Ruins of Sorrows Keep

THE RUINS OF SORROW'S KEEP

DESCRIPTION - LOCATION - MYTH/LORE

Located east of the Mithral Mountain Range in the continent of Gaia, the forsaken Sorrow's Keep Ruins emanate an aura of unease and foreboding. Today Sorrow's Keep is just an empty place where you can hear the winds soughing over the remnants of decayed buildings and withered stone. But millenia ago, these fragments were part of a citadel, home of a powerful devil-mage, who eventually met his fate through the hands of a group of dadventurers who set out together to defeat the evil nestled in this place. Sorrow's Keep is still a condemned area today, avoided by many and said to bear the curse of Draeger, the horror, who had reigned in these halls.

• Description

What you can see today of Sorrow's Keep is only a small glimpse of its former magnificence - but somehow what is still left hasn't lost its menacing aura. Seperated through a wooden fence from the rest of the landscape behind some warning signs, you can still see one of the citadel's towers from afar, where supposedly the summoning procedures of the devil-man, the "Beast" Draeger, took place a long time ago.

The fence by the way was only recently erected to prevent further tragic incidents like the one that happened a few years ago: A small girl of the nearby fishing village of Nepris got lost in the woods and obviously ended up in Sorrow's Keep. What was still found of her days later was a scarf near the so-called "Demon's Chasm", and the story goes that an evil presence lured her into this pit. She was never found again.

This Demon's Chasm is one of the few other man-made items, which can still be identified from afar when looking down from a viewpoint high up in the Mithral like the Toran Falls. It is easy to spot due to its awe-inspiring shape, an enormous well-like hole located at the former center of the citadel, surrounded with claw-like stones. At this place rumour has it that Draeger sacrificed people's bodies and feasted on the souls of the innocent, to strengthen his magical and spiritual links with the horrible demons of the Netherworlds. And as you can see from the story mentioned above, people still think that this chasm is an unholy source of evil one should avoid at any cost.

The rest of the citadel, along with other adjacent buildings, today stands in ruins. Most of them are covered with vines and creepers and are barely recognizable as stone structures, only a few grey columns here and there indicate the place's terrible history. There are various entrances to the citadel's still existing dungeons still accessible, though, leading deep into the underworld under the Mithral Mountains, much further down than any Mitharim ever carved his tunnels into the moutain (or so it is said), but what awaits down there should better be kept a secret. Even daring adventurers, who - against better advice - ventured into the ruins to prove themselves only reluctantly hint at the horrors contained therein.

If you're already uneasy when glancing at the ruins from afar, then stay away! At nightime you might even see unexplainable shapes when passing the former citadels, watchers they are, so the locals say, but why they appear or what they'd like to convey to anyone noticing them, no one can say. It is said that people who dare to find out are never seen again. But at daytime often looking at Sorrow's Keep isn't any better: In the morning when the crumbled buildings are surrounded with heavy mist the ruins are an eerie sight to behold - often you can only see wilted trees emerging from the grey mass as if gigantic hands are reaching out... If the shudder you get from these impressions is just a personal sensation or an indicator of an ancient presence still lingering down there in the well known as the "Chasm", is something you have to judge for yourself...

Location:

Sorrow's Keep lies on the east coast of the continent of Gaia. It can be found between the Mithral Mountain Range to the west and the fishing village of Nepris to the east.

Myth/Lore:

Rumour has it that millenia ago when the violent confrontation of two ancient kingdoms, reigned the then called continent of Zelandria, a man of unspeakable power had settled in a proud citadel on the coast of the sea, which was known as Sorrow's Keep. The lands were without kings back then, magic meant dominance and fear. The people had to obey those who had enough power to oppress them, and in Sorrow's Keep lived one of those men. The fortress was sheltered on the west side by the Mithral and to the east had a great swamp, which should become home to many a dark creature, bred there to spread terror over the lands and to challenge would-be adventurers. Draeger Fah, this was the man's name, was not a God, but he endeavoured to match them in power eventually. He was described as a rigorous Lord already before he fell victim to an uncurable deadly illness, which caused him to go on a quest for immortality. Finally with the help of alchemists, magi and an artifact they produced together, Draeger enslaved the great beast known as Efreet, and literally merged with it. He turned to a half man and half devil creature. Draeger became endowed with the lust for power characteristic to the race of men and at the same time he also bore the brutal and unforgiving force of the netherworldly creature he had raised, in him - the latter he summoned in a place known today simply as the "Pit". Everyone who had helped him to become what he was, had to pay with his life, while Draeger himself became stronger and stronger and even more unpredicatable. People called him also the "Beast", and there are many tales where the gruesome details are revealed on how he preyed upon the life force of unfortunate people, who couldn't escape his hunger for the flesh and the souls of the innocent.

With him Draeger had demons hailing from the depths of the abyss below Sorrow's Keep, the undead and corrupted magi, emerging from the Pit, and he also bred monsters in the swamps around his citadel. Filled with hatred and anger on everything alive these creatures spread their master's infamy in all directions. Commanding his dark minions, Draeger did not only feast on people, he drained energy from the world around him, making the lands withered and dead while he himself grew in power and strength, transforming more and more into a devil. Sorrow's Keep became a place of evil, a black hole in the once thriving landscape of the now dead Zelandria Kingdom, sucking all life into its gorge of darkness.

While the lands drowned in the chaos he had caused, Draeger thought that his dominion over the region east of the Mithral would go unnoticed for a long time - until he had gained enough supporters to challenge other powerful rulers. However, even though many were embroiled in their own affairs, Draeger was in the end confronted by: A knight, a High Priestess, a Thief, and the leader of a band of elves; and his dark machinations were put to an end when his spiritual magical connection to the beings of the Netherworlds was skewered. The portal from where he had summoned his horrific helpers was destroyed in a desperate joint effort and the citadel crumbled to dust. But what the attackers did see when storming Sorrow's Keep was unlike anything they could have anticipated in their wildest dreams: undead, necromancers and numerous beasts of the Netherworlds defended their master. Actually he was barely recognizeable as a human being - people say that he had grown to the size of a tower and that he had six arms, moving like a spider, constantly consuming the auras of the fallen. When the hordes of the dark minions charged, so tell the tales, the knight began to charge straight into their flanks, hacking and slashing vigorously, supported by his female companion, the preistess, while the elves opened fire with their bows. Finally the preistess rose in to the sky unleashing water funnels of devastation upon the black hordes. Drager seeing this screamed, calling his brother, the deadly Gamosh-Ra, Demon of Lightning, who pushed the grey back to the ground with its might. Yet the battle raged on for days, night and day, unceasingly, until just two of the attackers remained. Standing fast against the hordes, knowing they had no chance unless they'd unite their powers, and so they did. A huge funnel, miles upon miles wide, ripped through the heavens, chunks of the earth itself were torn from the ground, magical energies encased the typhoon as the Leviathan was called upon. Beholding this spectacle, one would have thought the gods themselves had intervened, and maybe they even did, as for a moment this raw power was heard vibrating acrossall the world, then it was gone all of a sudden, as were most of the defenders and also the citadel.

The remaining demons, irritated and guideless, ripped their former, now barely living master to pieces, but then found their end when most of the once gigantic citadel was swallowed by the earth as if it had never existed.

Some say that Draeger's spirit still lurks in the shadows of his ancient fortress somewhere, others say he cursed the place when he died, and even others claim that there are tomes and artifacts of unimaginable power still down there in the cold and damp dungeons below Sorrow's Keep, only awaiting to bring havoc to the world again. - How about it? Want to take a look?

Tap... tap tap... tap... tap tap...

In the dimly lit room, heavily veiled with shadows, one thing could be seen: A crippled bandaged hand drumming its fingers on the wooden armrest of an ebony chair. What thoughts did the owner of the hand have running through his head that deemed such an action prominent? It didnt matter, as it seemed to stop abruptly, an untold question being answered by an unknown man.

"Everything is ready, my lord. We await your order to begin." The darkly clad man stated, his voice rough like sandpaper as he made a bow, standing in his place by the entrance of the door, never daring to step deeper into the inner sanctum of the master.

No words were ever spoken by the owner of the bandaged hand who's body was lost in the deep shadows of the rest of the room. The hand moved up off the surface of the armrest and gracefully stroke upwards in a light snap of the wrist to order commencement. The darkly clad man saw the motion and instantly understood the command, and from his position he backed out, closing the door after him as he did so.

He moved through the corridoors swiftly and silently, blending in with the shadows of his surroundings as he moved to the closest body of water. Quickly casting a spell over it to transform it to something resembling a screen. And on the other side of the water's surface, there stood a many undead and men and women dressed in similar dark garb.

"Sweep across the land and do what you will. It is time that the world see its nightmares into reality." he spoke to the surface of water and the images beyond its liquid wavering form. And as the image began to diminish and fade away to the quaint ripples of the water, the many units of undead and people began to move.

Within the master's room, the limited illumination only began to dim as the crippled hand began to drum along the armrest again.

Tap... tap tap... tap... tap tap...

((STAFF MEETING!))

Darkness. Emptyness. Devoid of light, devoid of sound, devoid of heat, devoid of life, there was nothing.

And with a bright flare, the emptyness was swept away, replaced by the gentle glow of a a violet flame in the center of the room. And one by one, crude torches which lines the walls also began to flare to life with the eerie glow. Filled with luminous glow which gave no heat, the room contained few pieces of furniture.

In the very center of the room was a gigantic round table carved from ebony and obsidian, decoratively etched with small symbols and scenes of horror. The center of the table itself was hollow, sporting a giant wickedly spiked brazier suspended on chains. The main illumination of the room, the violet tongues of flame, came from this.

And forming a ring around the table were many heavy chairs, each richly cushioned, with a high backing, and made of the same materials as the table, they were decorated and carved in the same manner as well. Circling the round table, it can only mean that this was some sort of a meeting place, and by the flare of lighting, a meeting was about to begin.

One by one, the masters of the cult began to file into the room; Necromancers, liches, greater vampires, death knights.

Through the shadowy hallway and through the door, Decruda stepped into the place of meeting. Not exactly considered one of the masters of the cult, he came to the meetings in place for his lord, the Shattered Hand. The lich was one of many secrets, and did not appear in public much, not even to the others of the cult, and as usual, Decruda was sent in his stead to take place in the meeting.

Sssss....

The lithe figure was but a sliver, a quick flash of movement that was there and then no longer. Her forked tounge pierced the air as she came to a stop at the legs of one chair. Head craned upward, and she then began to wrap her body around the leg of the chair, ascending until she was in the seat itself.

Shaaa...

A deep sigh, and the silver and green serpent's body filled out to that of a young? lady, the Descant they knew and loved. Or at least tolerated.

At the far end of the table sat Gavin Bayle. Still clad in that, what appeared to be, blood-stained armor; his mussed, brown hair matted down against his head, even as he hunched over an object that he was toying with upon the table.

A rat... or a bird... in fact it was a white mouse that had had a pidgeon's wings grafted onto it, and using necromancy, connected to the creature's nervous system. The mouse could feel them, it could move them- Well, it might have been able to move them, if the wings weren't pinned to the table with two iron nails driven straight through them.

"Take heart, little one..." Gavin mused, grinning as he worked, and displaying a missing canine on the left side; his right hand pressed a finger down onto the back of the creature's neck, while his left inserted a scalpel over its spine and drew it down the length of the creature, to the tail. With another tug, both the tail and the spinal collumn came free, severed from everything that had been holding them.

"Hector, toad."

An enormous, stone figure stood behind Gavin holding a steel tray in both hands; upon which were placed various medical instruments and tiny creatures in cages. At the command, it set the tray upon the table, and moved a toad in a glass jar in front of Gavin, before taking the rat/bird and standing back silently and motionlessly where it had been for so long.

Yes... Gavin knew that there was little point in rearranging animals. But he was passing the time until this 'meeting' got underway. A much more occupying diversion than what he had been tempted the last time; staring at the other representatives, wondering if Descant's neck would look good on his new doll.

Kraun Wrote:

"Test subjects are becoming scarce. Either we are going through them too fast, or that we just dont have a steady supply coming in. I belive the latter, so what should we do? Organize a raid on one of the cities above ground, or should we each just continue operating independantly?"

Gavin looked up from his diversions; the toad's own spine already half replaced with the mouse's.

Yes, it was certainly true that he had been running low on parts lately. And there were very few good parts among the ones that were left, anyways. All the others were so greedy, taking the exceptional subjects to be made ghouls or worse. Ghastly things, animating a corpse... it was just a mockery of what the things were in life.

'Though...' Gavin grinned to himself, laying down his forceps on the table. He'd have given one of his right arms for just one of that Kyonuske fellow's... perhaps maybe a kidney or a lung...

A shiver of excitement ran down his spine as Gavin drudged up memories of the last time he had tried to graft halves of fire and ice salamanders together. It was quite... what word would work best? Gruesome... yet educational. He learned much from that experience, and fewer of his subjects after that were quite so... explosively opposed to furthering science.

"I need more eyes."

He picked up a needle and thread, then turned back to his toad.

Quote:** Wrote:

"Test subjects are becoming scarce. Either we are going through them too fast, or that we just dont have a steady supply coming in. I belive the latter, so what should we do? Organize a raid on one of the cities above ground, or should we each just continue operating independantly?"

Darshendros took a seat and glanced over at the spellsword, listening to his words as he folded his hands on the table in front of him. True, he hadn't had any new subjects in quite a while, but he hadn't actually been looking, either. He had a few ideas of how to solve this problem though.

"A tavern raid. There's always plenty of fools holed up in them, and it would take less effort than attacking an entire city," he suggested. "The latter would be a waste of resources, and have some royal army or some sort hounding us."

The tubes and bottles clanged together while the body bags rumbled in back of the old hearse. The bodies weren't dead, merely paraylized by poisons that kept them in a state close to suspended animation. They were two formerly strong men, from the criminal element of Durem, but certainly no one that would be missed. The tubes were long preserved human remains deep from within the temple. Nothing like a little gift for good neighbors.

Yarneth drove the old hearse himself, no one living had to know what he was up to, and if his offer was rejected he could incinerate the bodies with a mere touch and return the other items to his personal collection. It had been a little while since he had taken over the Yaits insurance agency. Court setlements, stock manipulation, silent assasinations, the reorganization of experiments, and driving the expansion of a mid-sized company had kept him so busy for the past month that it was actually nice to take a little drive through the countryside. If the information he had received was correct, he might even make some new friends here.

A rented hearse pulled up to the gates of Sorrow's Keep. In this desolate area nothing else would do. The dead branches of the dried tree snapped as a heavy gale blew across the lawn. Yarneth walked calmly up the walk, and knocked on the door politely. The dark energy was delectable, just being here made him feel alive.

"I'm Edward Yaits," Yarneth said, "But my true name is Yarneth, I am an incarnation possesed by the spirit of Ymir. I bear gifts, noting fancy, but I wish to participate if you'll let me. If not, I must respect that, this is afterall, a diplomatic visit."

Yarneth waited as the wind howled and black aura seemed to seep from the lifeless soil of the Keep's yard. He lifted up his right hand and extended its fingers. From the pointer finger came a tall wisp of flame, from his middles finger a long buble of liquid air, from his ring finger a wisp of darkness, and from his little finger a swirling tornado. He put each out with his thumb and repeated the process while he waited.

They were letting him in, not a bad sign to start, not a bad sign at all. He walked in the first room. Layers of dust climbing from where his black Armani shoes hit the creaky floor. It was dark, so he lit a fire to light his way, the flames extending in great plumes from his fingertips. He breathed the structures aura, this place had it's own wonderful life, like the catacombs of his temple. Now to explore, to get where he intended to go, he needed to only follow the aura to it's source. The stronger the aura, the closer he was to his destination, he supposed.

Menos retracted his hand accross the table, leaving a faint blood smear accross the surface. He spoke to no one in particular, addressing everyone as he released his words.

"...Homeless individuals are too easy of a target. A single member of this council would easily obtain the desired specimans from this area. If we are indeed going to raid together...I suggest we go for something a bit more...worthwhile..."

He tapped his finger's irritably on the table.

"...Unless of course somenone's frightened..."

Darshendros Wrote:

"Fear is something only mortals feel. The dead fear nothing. There is nothing left to fear."

Gavin looked up once more, a toad with a rat tail now sitting upon the table in front of him. The mouse had been dismembered, and he was beginning to graft one of the wings onto the toad out of boredom.

"Only an imbecile moves without caution. I need more parts for my experiments, but I could steal children from their beds for that little. Any of us could, that is the point."

Gavin cut a slit down the back of the toad, looking away from the rest of the table again as he began stitching the muscles together with those of the pidgeon wing.

"My master requires speciments for test subjects and energy to fuel the production of new spells," Decruda answered, where the 'energy' most commonly associated with creating new spells by necromancers involved blood or souls, "I, on the other hand, need body parts, healthy ones preferably, or better yet, from strong speciments." he added, not adding the reason to this, as many would know, he did quite a bit of grafting himself, only it was on his own maimed body rather than others.

"That and with the constant feeding of the ghoul hordes, carrion and fresh meat, whether from live subjects or dead ones, isnt a benefit to the situation." he noted in addition.

"Hobos and drunkards could certainly serve as feed for the hordes, low quality, easy prey. However, I believe it best if we took something of at least average quality for test subjects and parts, civilians, merchants, guards, or even better yet, those with power in their bodies."

Descant went back to watching Gavin, with all of her concentration actually on the toad that he was working with.

"I think all of this answers the question then: we're going to launch a planned attack together. Now, the question is where we should appear that would have enough strong bodies show up."

After a moment's thought, she held her hand out to Gavin. "Are you done with that yet?"

The Knight just kept quiet. He wasn't one of the scientests, and nor did he care enough about his stock of unholy beasts to voice his concerns about them being fed. If anything they could eat each other, the flesh of your own made you stronger, and the Knight felt much more comfortable with a small group of things he knew could perform, rather then your basic mindless horde of wavering zombies.

None of these opinions were voiced though, he wasn't in the mood for discussion. Whatever decision the group arrived upon, he would go with. If there was a vote, he'd side with the majority. Well, as long as the majority were looking for a city raid. He hadn't had one of those since the disaster in Latent. They just couldn't stop that count.

All in all, his blade thirsted for blood, and that was the will he would be following.

04 Spriggan Wrote:

After a moment's thought, she held her hand out to Gavin. "Are you done with that yet?"

"Are you planning on eating it, my pretty?"

Gavin laughed... that statement might have been true for any number of the attendees here.

"Lament would be an ideal choice than"

He nodded in Decruda's direction.

"It would appear that if strategically calculated, a raid on Lament would be beneficial to the needs of everyone in this council. We would gain parts for experiments, food for the ghouls...as well as bone and other such objects..."

He drummed his fingers on the table again.

"...A visitor?"

Yarneth waited outside the door, killing rats in with his various odd powers to pass the time. He yawned, but he wasn't bored, he could hear some of the conversation. Bits and pieces, and put it together. A big glutonous rat crept down the hall, Yarneth swooped upon it and wrapped its hand around the little beast's belly. It tried to bite him, but its body became stiff and gray, wisps of cold evaporated from its fur. Then he threw the deeply frozen rat at the wall, shattering it to millions of pieces.

Quote:** Wrote:

Enter

About time, Yarneth thought, entering the dimly lit room and scanning the grim assembly.

"Forgive my impertinence," he said, shaking the dust of his suit as he excuded his dark aura to make the room dimmer yet, "But I thought I might be able to help with your experiments. Not, as a subject, mind you. If you want to go further, I think we can enhance each others plans greatly. In the spirit of a good neighbor, I bought some gifts, if you want them."

Plans were already formulating in his mind for his part of the raid as they were discussing successful strategies previously used against the city. Then the stranger entered their little meeting, and Darsh was quite curious as to what benefits this person thinks he might gain from helping out a group such as theirs - other than a merciful death or life spent in a not-so demeaning form. He let the amusement show on his face, sitting back and watching the encounter.

Menos grunted at him. So he had produced some material for them to use...but at what cost? He decided he would speak instead of remaining silent. He did not smile.

"So, you have provided your 'gifts' so to speak...more importantly though...what do you gain from this...what is it that you want?"

He drummed his fingers on the table again, waiting.

"Cynical, are we not?" Yarneth smiled, "Simply put, I'm requesting your cooperation in exchange for resourses. You see, I've found that the living are dependant upon their little records for everything. You wipe clear the records of a person, event, or entity and they go about their lives as if it never existed. It works in reverse as well, put something in the records that doesn't exist, and the mortals simply beleive it without question. They are such gullible creatures, after all. I can provide you with better material, good strong healthy vibrant material that would be missed if the records could be found. Instead of incinerating those I wish to dispose of, I will send the greater portion your way. In return, any information you could deliver me would be appreciated, wether recon or experimental. I'm also in need of a few good biological researchers, if anyone here who thinks they have such skills are interested."

"I'm only getting started, but if things go smoothly," Yarneth smiled, rubbing his fingers against his eyepatch, the wound was still a few days off from healing. "We could make Gaia our little playground."

The ******** is a Velban?

Decruda puzzled as he listened to the conversation going back and forth between the intruder and the rest of the council, and then it was his turn to speak.

"Gaia already is our playground." he simply stated, "Everyone runs and we do as we please. Nobody stands up against us." and it was the truth. Nobody has ever stood against the cult, ever confronted it, and they all just run away. What made this man so special to have the cult work under him? Like employees under an employer, only paid in bodies instead of money. The cult of the dead, necromancers and powerful undead, feared nothing; being masters of life and death themselves.

"You are asking assistance from us in exchange for bodies? Bodies which we can each acquire ourselves and the reason for the meeting in the first place. Also, you are asking for scientists? Which we certainly are not." He returned, "So what's in it for you?"

Distrust. It came naturally to the spellsword, and he wanted to know why this all of a sudden.

Quote:** Wrote:

"Who the hell're you?"

"I believe I already uttered my name for the watchers," Yarneth said, "I have no desire to repeat myself."

Kraun Wrote:

The f**k is a Velban?

"An ancient race of human that has been exterminated some time ago," Yarneth explained, "My followers killed them off, but they were quite capable warriors, very agile and adaptive."

Kraun Wrote:

"Gaia already is our playground."

"Feh," Yarneth said, grinding his right fist into his left hand with a resounding smack. "If Gaia was your playground you could trod the cities openly and demand your quota of supplies as tribute. If Gaia was your playground, every last mortal would be a puppet to your whim. If Gaia was your playground you wouldn't need to raid a backwater town for supplies, you could garner your suplies as a tax. If Gaia was your playground you'd have your own rendering facilities where you could experiment and work on spells without fear of being attacked or shut down. If Gaia was your playground, you wouldn't be driven into the darkest corners to plan and plot and scheme. Barton, Durum, Latent, and every other town in Gaia would be administered by the undead, and armies of biogenetically super-zombies would roam freely through the open terrain, fearing nothing! You would always be the hunters, and never the hunted. Call me a dreamer, but that is what I visualize when I see Gaia as your little playground."

Kraun Wrote:

"So what's in it for you?"

"To be honest," Yarneth smiled, "A measure of control over the mortal realm. I include myself when I say our playground. All I ask for is a seat at the table, a vote, and we can all relate to the spirit of friendship that fills this room."

Darsh Wrote:

"We can question his gifts too, since they're still alive. Who sent you to us?"

Yarneth laughed, "Question them until your hearts content, I'll doubt they'll do much besides piss themselves. Probing the mind is best, you'll find that they refused to bring their counterfitting ring under my domain, and the last thing they saw before entering the bags was my smiling mug."

After Darsh's show, he turned his head slowly, narrowing upon the man.

"Let me get this straight...you simply wish us to do work for you while you ride the coatails of our deeds. Do you believe you are higher than us?"

The shadow of Menos, that had remained quiet and unwavering began to stir. Menos stood, keeping his hands on the table. His voice never raised to a yell, but kept at his normal, calm, cold voice.

"You are not one to walk in here without so much as a name. We cannot be simply hired for personal gain..."

"For a guest," Decruda began, adding in a small though to himself, an uninvited guest at that, "you certainly lack manners." And he didnt particularily like ill mannered people.

"I dont believe there is much benefit to either of our parties with your proposition." he said simply. A human was a human, and whether it be some sort of modern day man or neanderthal, made little difference. With the voiced opinions of the others, negative opinions at that, he simply said a dismissal statement. "You may leave now."

"Yeah, definately a spy," Darsh commented a moment after Yarneth left - if that was his real name. "Shall I send the hounds to track him? He knows more than is good for him."

Darshendros nodded his head in agreement. "It should provide a tasty appetizer for the hordes."

He still wanted to track Yarneth though, and find out where he came from, where he lived. Foolish as he may have been, there was no doubt in his mind that this Yarneth person has items of power in his possession. Darsh, always the collector, would definately be interested in seeing what sorts the man had. He sent out his request. The shadows watched.

themightyjello Wrote:

> 04 Spriggan Wrote: > > themightyjello Wrote: > > "Are you planning on eating it, my pretty?" > "Yes, actually." Twice, she curled her fingers in quickly for another "gimme" motion. > > "Are you planning on eating it, my pretty?"

Gavin simply tossed the frog across the table; in the air it siezed, grasped by an invisible hand which carried it to her on the breeze, as the necromancer himself leaned back in his seat with his hands folded upon the table in front of him.

He said nothing as the 'visitor' entered, making such a spectacle of himself. It was a miracle that he actually managed to make it out of the room alive... though there wasn't much faith left that this 'Yarneth' would survive another fortnight with these harriers watching over.

'Wallace.' It was no more than a thought. 'I trust that you'll take care of things?'

--

Outside - A small red imp bounced up and down upon the hood of the black hearse. It had no objectives, it had no purpose for being there... it simply ran the length of the vehicle over and over, upon the roof.

"Sticks and stones!

Sticks and stones!

Breaking bones!

Breaking bones!

Words will never hurt!

No, words will never hurt!

But the wolves on your heels, yes!

Wolves on your heels!

They follow the sounds of voice!

Yes, yes!"

> themightyjello Wrote: > "Are you planning on eating it, my pretty?" "Yes, actually." Twice, she curled her fingers in quickly for another "gimme" motion.

"Are you planning on eating it, my pretty?"

As for the Hearse, it was a rental, from Durem, but rented under a false identity, and driven only for the purpose of not having to direct the cargo through the air for miles upon miles, always a pain. Any trace of Yarneth had been eliminated from it after he had left it, and now that he had no need further need of it, it was left to sit unattended. Good luck to rental company in ever trying to retreive it.

Anyway, for Yarneth, he had another way home. If anyone was watching, in a grove far south of the condemned territory, a series of four tornados formed into a square, then those tornados were lit by fir, next the fire was mixed, and partly quenched, by darkness. Yarneth sensed the tag on his shadow, but had not the desire or the ability to remove it completely, yet. As the darkness, wind, and fire mixed, a glass formed in the center, like a mirror, and soon it showed a back alley in Durem. Yarneth slipped through the portal of his own creation, back to Durem. Only a spot of blackened grass was left behind.

"Lets toss them in the spawning pools!" Decruda piped up about taking care of the bodies. It was always fun to see what would crawl out of those abominable pits after spending time in there. Maybe a spine with a head, two arms, and a sagging stomach, connected to nothing. It was a spectacle!

Darsh shrugged, not caring what was done with the "gifts" anymore. He just wanted this soon-to-be corpse out of his sight. Since nobody was doing anything, other than debating what to do with the trash, Darsh took it upon himself to dispose of at least the body. He stood and grabbed the (plastic or whatever its wrapped in), lifting the body and tossing it over his shoulder into the shadows behind him.

"Now then," he said after he sat back down, "How soon will we launch this attack? I can have my forces mustered and gated over by tomorrow evening."

"Actually, you know, The Heaven or Hell tournament is underway... Say we crash the party when it ends in Latent? I'm sure there'd be plenty of metas with fancy abilities and parts that go with them."

Decruda mused, some current events on mind. And just in the closing stages of the tournament while they were at it too. The town of Latent itself was right by the stadium, and a large number of Gaia's population was probably gathered there as well. It just could be an ideal location... that is, if anyone else thought the same thing.

Menos chuckled, for the first time in a long time he laughed, even if his laugh was dark. He kept his voice normal, not really raising it.

"I raid on Latent!? Ha! After the tournament!? Oh my...."

He kept his chuckle.

"That...my dear friend Decruda...is brilliant..."

When his chuckle ceased he narrowed his eyes to the man.

"You have me intrigued much like Gavin here...give us your idea's...."

The planning had begun.

"Well it sounds fine with me..."

He paused for a moment and tapped the table.

"...When will the finals commence and when will we attack? Not to mention..what should we do until this time..."

"Pointless."

Finally the Knight spoke. He did not raise to his feet with this humble protest, nor even change his positioning in his seat. In fact, for those who weren't familiar with the Knight's nature, they wouldn't even know it was him speaking. It was a strange thing, talking when one possessed no mouth, and as such, his cold voice seemed to come from all directions, echoing hauntingly off its own vibrations to produce a single, strangely infinite kind of sound. It was almost like seeing a canvas of vocalizations painted across in front of your eyes and ears. Beautiful, yet frightening, and all that jazz.

Too bad he didn't talk more often.

"To predict the denizens of Gaia, is to fall victim to their ever-changing natures. We cannot possibly know what we will encounter, aside from the most obvious things, and trying to organize ourselves according to such predictions would easily be our end. The gathering of intelligence wouldn't further our cause, but simply delay things longer than need be." For once the Knight's head moved, taking in the man he was addressing wholy. Pale blue eyes still shone in this dull setting, and the Knight's grip on his swordhilt seemed to tighten just somewhat.

"Would you have us falter and be destroyed without warning, trying to predict the unpredictable? Or are we to rot waiting on unreliable agents attempting to collect useless information?" His gaze shifted to look at the center of this circle, but truthfully the Knight now looked inwards, trying to gauge himself and what would come next. "It is not the strength of the enemy we must question, but our own, for that is the only thing we can fully rely on. The only mistakes that can be made are the mistakes you make by yourself, and a mind clouded by assumptions will easily fall victim to error." The Knight got to his feet, working out the kinks in his ancient joints.

"Someone inform me of when we depart. The only 'strength' I need, is this blade."

And he left, not even giving the other fellow a chance to respond.

Gavin simply watched both of them, undoubtably too set in their ways to be convinced by any debate. At most they would be subverted, and that would mean nothing... Arrogance was a weakness for some. For others it was a useful tool.

The Death Knight could continue to believe what he had said; that no measure of preparation could ever circumvent the unpredicatable nature of the Gaian populace. That would simply mean that the Knight would have no fear when the time came... Darshendros, the undead fool, no doubt thought that those hordes he always spoke of were what would win the day. His arrogance was equal, yet opposite, of the Knight's.

"...would anyone else like to leave?"

"Chaos is my playing field, so I dont care much for what will happen and what wont happen. What happens happens, and what doesnt, doesnt." Decruda said, as he lifted himself up out of the black chair, "I will keep an eye on Latent and the tournament for now. I bid you farewell lady and gentlemen. See you when the time comes."

And with a bow, the spellsword left the room the same way he entered, through the door and through the halls, moving down the labyrinth-like tunnels. He had two things to do: Report to the Shattered Hand and occupy a body as a spy. And into the shadows he disappeared, all but echoing footsteps remaining to mark his passings.

The tiny neko-jin was quite obviously agitated. Her eyes were large and darted across the horizon while her ears were pricked, flickering at every sound as she sat by the small camp fire, huddled up in the thick coat Mere had provided for her. Even the gentle soothing of the Senshi within thr small girls mind couldn't calm her as she jumped at the sound of Mere returning, turning to face him with her eyes swirling dangerously, lip drawn up into a startled snarl. Upon seeing Henry her eyes stilled and growl cut short before turning back to the fire and staring into it deeply.

It's been a long time since I felt such a concentration of necromancy in such a small space... Urgh... I hate the undead...

Juuni closed her eyes and flattened her ears with a short but soft purr as John stroked her hair before she let out a sigh and rested her face in her hands, elbows leant on her knees which were drawn up against her chest, tail tip twitching as she snuffled slightly.

"Juunis doesn't like it here..." she finally said quietly.

Come here little one... You will be safe.

The comfort that Juunikyuu's presence bought the young girl overwhelmed her as in a shower of sparkles the neko-jin's form melted away to that of the Senshi. Juunikyuu did not look impressed.

"I hate the undead." she repeated for clarity before standin and stretching, her tunic billowing in the wind though the cold did not seem to effect her.

Turning to face Mere she spoke again.

"Am I to assume, that you would like to make use of my Holy abilites?" she questioned, "Because if that is your intention I will need time to gather the energy and prepare a spell to prevent any further spread of the undead plague that has been cast upon these ruins."

Tomorrow didn't seem to be listening as he pushed a new clip into the large handgun he weilded and pulled the slide back, checking and rechecking it before placing it down. He did the same for his other hand-cannon, before placing it down and dumping all the prepared ammo around the both of them.

"Can you bless these?" He asked Juuni, pushing the large stack over to her. "If not, thats alright."

He sniffed before turning his head to look at Mere. He hadn't liked the way Mere had talked to him before...but then, that was then, and this is now.

"Juuni can fly you up to the roof or window or wherever. Either that, or i can toss you up there. I'll handle the freaks on the bottom."

He'd wiped out an army of Orcs. Some rotting undead zombies shouldn't be a real problem.

"Anything valuable they'll try to keep in the main keep, or the guard house. We're looking for a sheild, right? That might mean they would keep it in an armoury as well. Hiding in plain sight. Not to mention the numerous sheild standards that might adorn the hallways of this castle...looks like that type of place. I hope you know what you're looking for. I dont want to destroy it accidentally if i have to go through some walls."

Tomorrow sucked in air through his teeth as he thought for a moment. "I'd keep an eye out too, if you want to go in through the top of the place. Necromancers like to keep to the dirt, close to fresh resources, but some also like to set up shop in their occupied fortresses. Especially if they're still human. Creature comforts, like a bed, or a fire. If you do find someone like that, well...i think you know what that means."

It means that a necromancer powerful enough to not have to keep close to a graveyard shouldn't be trifled with.

Tomorrow sniffed then, before leaning back, stretching his legs. "I suggest going in at daytime, but if you want to leave now thats fine. I'm ready whenever."

Hogosha No Juunikyuu Wrote:

"I can endow the gun with holy properties of the stars, that should be enough to give you some sort of advantage, and this way, any ammo used within them will become blessed with the same properties. I can remove the blessing later if needed."

"Cheers." John said as he retrieved his weapons, taking a look at the runes on the handles before slipping them into holsters.

Hogosha No Juunikyuu Wrote:

"We also have the problem of the grounds surrounding this castle. No doubt full of surprises... But might I propose a way to limit the movement of the undead to stop them at least springing from beneath us?"

"Lay it on me, beautiful."] John said with a smirk. If the Senshi could stop the zomibes from coming up, then all the better for him - but if not, he had a few tricks of his own tucked away...

Sunstrike Wrote:

"That would be magnificant, Juuni. And just what we need, the only thing we'd have to worry about then, is if they have solid traps as opposed to undead ones. If you'd like, we can get some rest, and then set out during the day as Tomorrow suggested."

Henry's cloak gathered around him.

"I'm expecting a guest as well, I imagine if we ask polite enough, he'll manage to help, though its not really his job...I imagine the demons aren't too happy about the invasion force setting up shop in their hidey hole...s'like a badger coming home to find an undead weasle in his den..."

Tomorrow sighed as he lay back, closing his eyes and placing his hands behind his head.

Sleep came swiftly. Although he'd become accustomed to city life, going back to nature was like slipping into a old, comfortable pair of pants. It fit snug, didn't give him any real hassels, and there was little to ride up into his giblets.

Although, for some reason, he kept feeling like something was missing...and every now and then he'd open and close his right hand, as if it wished to be filled by something...

Nevertheless, he slept peacefully. Both hands on weapons. One eye open.

2 AND now, O ye priests, this commandment is for you.

2 If ye will not hear, and if ye will not lay it to heart, to give glory unto my name, saith the Lord of hosts, I will even send a curse upon you, and I will curse your blessings: yea, I have cursed them already, because ye do not lay it too heart.

MALACHI 1,2

The clouds roiled through the sky, slowly passing by as time wore on.

Without warning, a seam seemed to tear itself along one cloud in particular, widening into a slit with nothing but pitch black within. Something fluttered out, sending black feathers to waft along the wind, before they dissipated into nothing.

The fluttering sound continued, even as a soft cawing was heard. The thing circled around the skies for a good bit, at very high altitudes, before turning off.

It seemed to be searching for something as it went to and fro.

Beady eyes settled on something before finally banking sharply and returning in the direction it had come from.

Sitting there, on nothing but solid air, was a prone figure. The rip in the atmosphere sealed up behind it, even as the strange bird approched the stranger, alighting upon his left shoulder.

"That so...? That's good, real good."

A grin spread across the figure's face, even as it lifted it's head up.

"Saves me a lot of time..."

John's gun lowered slowly as he shifted in his seat, soft snores emitting from deep in his belly as his sunglasses lowered a little, showing that he was in fact asleep.

Henry's eyelids drooped and a lazy smile wore it's way around his face. Now the resemblence to his son was uncanny. Especially when he shrugged.

"I'm not being coy, you're a demon, grief is you by definition. And he does that way too often to be considered simple play...you and I both realize he's obsessed with "himself." The only differance is that you are bound to him, I however, have shirked that little roll.

Blunt words sliced through the half remarks and smart attitude of the one above him. Some would say he was risking quite a lot by doing so. Technically, Malachi might outrank Henry, but it was really hard to tell, considering how loose the affiliation was with Victor.

"Regardless, you've come for an update, and what I'm asking you, is for your help. You get to help me finish my mission, meaning Victor might just look upon you with more favour...it's up to you. Otherwise I'll give you the report and you may leave. You're master may have bit off more then he can chew with his brother at this time...might be alot more trouble then he thinks...considering he's made no apparent headway in Babel..."

How Henry knew that no progress was made...was anyones guess. But know he did. And he waited patiently for a reply, fire crackling.

blinku blinku

The Senshi continued to stare at Mere who apparently didn't realise she was still awake. Following his gze she tried to make out just who or what he was talking too but could see no one. She shrugged and rolled her shoulders before sitting back down beside the fire in a meditative position. There would be no sleep for her tonight, she needed to spent the night gathering energy from the stars in order for tomorrow to proceed as planned. Besides, its not like the conversation involved her and so long as whoever Mere was talking to wasn't a threat, why should Juunikyuu care?

"Hah!"

Malachi leaned back, stretching his legs a bit as he remained seated in the air.

"Open your eyes old man." He cupped a hand underneath his chin, staring down into the distance, where the ruins were themselves. "There is no more tower. You know as well as I do that what your looking for is underground."

He closed his eyes as he smiled.

"Just... how much longer are you going to carry this charade on for? I want to kill them already."

The bird on his shoulder began to stir, ruffling up it's wings a bit.

The smile on his face seemed to be replaced with an ugly scowl, his face contorted into something beyond human.

But like before, it only lasted a moment, before Malachi stood up.

"... Whatever you say."

Freefalling now, as gravity seemed to regain it's hold over him, he shot straight downwards, nearly impacting with the ground before he seemed to slow his rate of fall.

Grinding to a halt, he was barely 5 inches off the ground now as he stood before Mere.

"Sir."

The bird on his shoulder cawed loudly, looking too large to be a normal avian.

Though the lands of Sorrow's Keep is an unholy place due to the fiends which had once inhabited the area, and very well still did in the darkest recesses of the dark pits of 'Demon Chasm', the grounds which made up the legendary place were very much desecrated and reeked of negative energy, so much that it was simply unsalvagable.

Ever since the Master of the keep had been overthrown and the necromantic cults had taken up residence in the area, the land had slowly deteriorated and corrupted until it was as the abyss itself; there was no better place in the world than here for the stufy of demonology. Additionally, the amount of negative energy which poured into the land, changing it into something which can never be as it was at one time, attracted mass amounts of undead, from the lowliest to the greatest. It was close to being a conduit to the plane of negative energy itself.

But travelers would never have to fear, for though the surface of the land clearly showed this corruption, it did little but scare off the weak hearted. The real dangers were entering the dungeons, vaults, and crypts of the desecrated land, stepping below the earth. Quite simply, the travelers' assumptions, preparations, and cautions were for naught, for on the surface of the land, no zombies roamed around freely; no vampires came out at night to stalk prey; no necromancers came to perform unholy rituals beneath the full moon. It was but a tainted and deserted land.

However, underground would be a different story altogether; as when one steps into the dank pits of their own grave, rarely do they escape unscathed, in more ways than one.

((does the same Cheers Kraun! ))

((Alright guys, I turn thee loose. I'm uninspired and both of you are really too busy to be time wasting here, you've done what you need to do, Henry's gotten what he needs due to overwhelming whatever, and you both have the shield.

Henry dissappears with Malachi and you guys are led back to the village by Red. Sorry bout all the hassle towards the end, and the pause, shoulda probably let you go ages ago, but I really had to think about what should happen first.

In honest truth I'm in no mood or inclination to honestly go up against Kraun No offence boyo, s'just not an overly convieniant time to do so, and you are very well established here.

Not to mention that I'm split three differant ways at the moment, and it'd be easier for all of us if we can get back to our loved ones IC, so on and so forth.

So yes, go free and try not to let it happen again, else I shall be forced to figure out some other similar fantasy movie to force upon thee all! ^w^ I like Labrynth as another choice <3 So let it be a warning! XD))

He stood at the edge of a luminescent pool of water, casting heavy shadows across his uncharacteristicly stoic face, outlining his sunken cheeks and brow clearly with dark spots void of light. He stood with his hands clasped at his lower back, inverted eyes staring down over the bridge of his nose into the murky swirling pool at his feet.

The thoughts which were crossing his mind at this moment would be if this was a good idea, if the time and resources used were wasted or not? Would the end product be as he predicts it to be? Yet, after all the time in thought, staring at the slowly developing form in the pool which seemed to grow steadily every day, he really could only know when it was completed.

He spun around on his heels and strode out of the chamber. For the time being, he had other matters to attend to.

Decruda stalked through the dark tunnels, barely illuminated by the sconces filled with burning torches spaced out every one hundred feet or so. As he moved, many disembodied hands moved around his feet, following him as he weaved through the maze of tunnels. The crawling claws did not follow and swarm him without a purpose though, as many were moving together, carrying gear towards him as he strode by, picking them up and equipping himself.

Finally, be the time he had everything, the claws were gone, and he moved through a part of the enclave which would take him outside. There were no torches here, no source of light, and even though it was dark, it wasnt quiet.

Faint growls and moans echoed through the tunnels as well as an occasional crunch of bone and tearing of flesh, carrying the sounds quite a distance before it was drowned out by other similar sounds. He didnt need light, for he knew where he was, and sure enough, there would be those which were the source of the odd sounds that would follow him out into the world of the surface.

He returned to the pool for a third time as he produced several tiny needles from the palms of his hands and dropped them in. He did not know the name of the individual whose this sample belonged to, but that was not a big issue, as the spy network would easily deal with that. What did concern him was he did not know what exactly the woman was capable of other than a seemingly supernatural intuitive ability, which of course, revealed his true nature of the encounter. However, even in such a situation, the woman had bit off more than she could chew, and Decruda had aquired an unwilling slave.

As he stepped away from the pool, he let his thoughts wander about aquiring other samples and tormenting the poor woman, because quite frankly, he is a rather cruel individual and would like nothing more than breaking her will and to pervert her soul. He did not return to the surface to look for such samples, no, his more useful prepared spells had been cast, and he needed time to recuperate and rememorize them.

Whatever was in the pool appeared to begin to form into a definate shape of a bipedal creature, possibly human, though still lacking fine features which would define it as an individual.

As he heard two knocks on his door, Decruda lifted his head from the book on his desk and turned to look over his shoulder. Seeing the woman enter, he would look her up and down with a look of disgust crossing over the muscle structure of his skinless face.

"Do you really have to dress like that?" he simply said as he turned back to whatever was on his desk and went on reading.

"Hmm?" he raised... what would have been an eyebrow if he had his face on at the moment as he looked up from his work.

He wondered what was so great about the weapon until he noticed its slight liquid glisten in the dim lighting. He quickly picked it up and put it in a vial already filled with some sort of lightly blue tinged liquid, wasting no time to keep the sample as fresh as possible as the liquid would fillt the hollow cavities of the weapon and preserve anything in them, that being the speciment's blood.

As he turned around, he asked the woman who did this sample belong to. Mainly he wanted to know if it was worth keeping.

Right. Well then, this was an interesting turn of events. He slipped the vial into one of his packets as he made a note to visit the pool after he finished with his current work.

Perhaps he'd go take a look at the boy while he was at it... later though.

The door opened to a dimly lit study with a noisy creak, revealing a line of shelves and books with a desk at the far end. The desk was occupied.

Decruda turned his head to look over his shoulder at the visitor, wondering who it was this time.

"Ah, what a pleasant surprise," he began once he had a good look at the woman, "I assume you have it?"

He took the rings from the woman with a pleased grin on his face in his left hand. Instantly, he could feel the heat from one of the rings; that one must have been Vahn's. He didnt know about this Roland character, so he'd have to look into it before he decided whether he was worthy or not.

"Excellent work." he commented before adding, "And I've already aquired the wolfman's sample while you were away. How was it by the way, did the fighters give a good show?"

"When someone as infamous as us, goes into the world, it attracts too much attention. I have an agent infiltrating the world of the living." It was his answer, though he could easily do it himself with all the disguises he could create.

"That tournament... perhaps I shall have to talk to the sponsor and hold another one. Would make harvesting much easier." Plans for the future perhaps?

Before he could say more, a disembodies hand crawled into the room. Between two of the fingers, was a simple little note. It was known in the cult that there was a large spy network at work on the world above, and as such, Decruda was well provided with information on potential targets, and the abilities of others by eyewitness sightings. Another had just come in. He unfolded the little scrap of paper...

There was a photo, and well known abilities of the individual. Also, there was a list of locations this particular person appeared most often. Decruda showed the sheet of paper to Descant. He didnt need to say anything, just grin, meaning that ever unsaid question; 'Shall we?'

He didnt take his usual equipment with him. These jobs required finesse, not brute force. And if all else failed, he had his spells to rely on. All he did was grit his teeth as he slid his hand into a small case in one of the drawers. He pulled it back out and flexed his fingers, moving them a bit before he did the same with his left hand.

After the ordeal, he let his face drop off and found a nice replacement as he dropped a little bit of water into his eyes. In mere moments, he appeared as a completely different person altogether. His eyes were pale blue, his hair was slicked back, and his face was weathered.

"Let's go."

((Continuation from the Dead Forest...))

Was he dead? Was he alive? He'd sustained many injuries; violent, bloody, crippling. Siat was in one of the many chambers underground, bound to a table by black silk cords with small runes stitched into them. His body was covered in bandages... no, funerary wrappings.

The man was alive all right, but being blinded, as the encounter with the ghouls had taken his eyeballs, and in a weakened state, as he had passed out due to blood-loss, he would be in little condition to do much. His wounds had been minimally healed, only to the point where he'd be alive; his major organs functioning, while the damage to his eyes, arms, and gut, would remain.

Even if he could somehow recover his strength in mere moments, the magic laced bindings which held him in lace would prevent him from moving.

By now, he should be awake, and at the moment he would awaken, he'd hear one voice croak out, echoing through the oddly quiet chamber.

"It seems that you are in quite the predicament."

So there was someone else in the room, maybe even more than one person, who knows. Now it was time to see if the man was worth the effort.

"Right, well then..." The man stepped over to the table, and in his hands he had a large needle. Actually, it was something more along the lines of a realy long nail with the diameter of half a centimeter.

And he'd jab it into the man's gut. Like a bullet wound, damage in such an area was not instantly fatal, however, it hurt. Really hurt.

And after such, came the interogation. "Your name?"

"Alright Susie," the torturer began, "this might hurt a little." he said as he stepped to the table at the side and picked up an intricately decorated pair of scissors. However, they werent just for looks, as the blades were extremely sharp.

Apparently he was not amused by the lack of co-operation. So then he'd go and snip off the man's pinky on his left hand, using the leverage the two blades going in either direction to cut through the first joint from the knuckle. He'd put it in a little jar as he'd put both the now bloody scissors and the jar down onto the table.

"What supernatural abilities do you possess?" Another question, asked without any hint of pleasure nor displeasure in his voice, that of a cold professional.

"Well, theres the danger factor to all that, so I'd rather not." the torturer answered as he picked up a syringe. He'd go up to the man and inject it into his body. There was nothing special about it, it was just a pain killing drug. However, just because the pain would be dulled, it didnt mean that Siat wouldnt know if the man was cutting him up some more.

He simply tossed the used syringe away. "So, whats the answer to that question?" the man asked again as he began poking at the other tools on the table.

"What supernatural abilities do you possess?" the man repeated the question.

"Amazing. Tell me more." he said as he turned about, a bladed item similar to a scalpel in his hands. He'd go over and begin to cut a slit open in the man's belly, in his upper right side. What he wanted was a sample of the man's liver, wherein when he had access to it, he'd take a chunk out.

A regular human can survive with only 15% of their liver, though thats not counting how messed up they would be in such a state, but alive none-the-less. The man would only take a chunk roughly one cubic inch.

A matter similar to bile would spill out onto the mans hands as he sliced him open and he would promptly notice that it was scalding hot. Specifically, it was 200 degrees celcius so the man would have a nasty burn.

Siat didn't even wince, but his ragged breathing continued.

"What the ******** do you want?"

Again, Decruda was standing by the pool. It has seemed that as of late, he had been acquiring many samples, as he once again found himself standing by the pool, introducing yet another sample into the stagnant substance which pulsated life.

Obtaining the eighth sample was clearly visible on his being, as the effects of doing so still marked his body; his right shin was in a splint, his chest was wrapped up tight in dirty black stained bandages, and the skin on his arms slowly peeled off from electrical burns.

When he finished, he hobbled out of the chamber. He had lost the glass dagger during the encounter, but that was not oo large of a problem, fo he could have another made easily. It wasnt some one of a kind specially forged weapon. No, it was just a dagger made of glass, he didnt care how simple or it looked as long as it did its job.

So apparently the stuff didnt come off. A minor inconvenience.

"Someone, fetch the grafter." as all he said as something hit the floor; his hands fell off, still burning as flesh was slowly being cooked. Such was the same reason the man did not wear any gloves, or any other normally protective equipment, he could always change his tools accordingly, however he preferred not to, as it was a major waste of time to wait for one of the flesh grafters.

Apparently tehre were others in the chamber, but they remained silent, simply watching, for why else would he make such a request out loud.

Several moments passed before someone came in, and a small discussion later, the interogator was ready to get back to work. He only had one hand replaced, while the other had the scalpel grafted directly into the fleshy stump of his wrist. But when he tried to cut at the man, it just seemed to not work.

"It just keeps moving around..." he commented, watching the blade simply slide over tissue, pushing it down but not cutting.

Wasnt it sort of obvious already? Because he was not co-operating, he was only making things harder for himself.

"I wanted an answer to a question. And I got it." he explained his initial actions, "Now I'm looking for the answer to another question; how, and what are the specifics of your supernatural abilities."

To do this, he could have just asked in the beginning, but considering the lack of co-operation he was given, he didnt bother. Instead, he was just planning on taking na piece of the man's body for analysis. Of course, that part of him was suppose to be the liver, a major gland in the body.

"Maybe if I freeze it and then chip a piece off..." he muttered to himself in thought, trying to decide if that would even work considering the heated material in the man's body.

The man moved back a step while the stuff bubled and spat, popping into the air.

"Ah, well then, do you have an asnwer for that?" he aked as he picked up another syringe and began filling it with some clear substance from some unmarked bottle.

He fired off some basic questions, "How does it work? What can it do? What can't it do? Where does it come from? Is it only internal affecting or external, or both?"

He withdrew the needle from the bottle and tapped it a few times, getting rid of any air bubbles before he pushed what little extra air and some of the substance out of the syringe.

It wasnt specific enough, but that was alright.

"Is it based around a large concentration of heat, or is it fueled by flames and fire?" This was one of the important questions. There were many people running around in the world that can create fire, but if this man was based solely on the creation of heat, generated inside the body to an extremely high degree, than that would be different.

The interogator would be walking towards the man as he asnwered the question. "Ah, I see." he would say as he jabbed the needle into the back of the man'd head and injected the substance into him.

Basically, it was exactly the same tonix in the needles used to capture him, however, with the great concentration injected directly into the target area, he should be affected near instantaneously.

Because the toxin did not knock someone out, but rather paralyze them, they had to wait until he began suffocating. And after he would pass out, the man would inject the antidote into him, preventing him from dying, as well as an additional sedative to keep him out for a while.

Now, after that process, he'd have his finger sewn back own rather sloppily, and as for his eyes? If they were cauterized by Siats own ability, they'd cut it open, exposing the nerve endings as they would graft new eyes into the sockets.

After the process, they'd get rid of him, simply transporting his unconscious body and dumping him back in the dead forest where they had initially got him from. As for spilled blood during the entire interogation process, well, that would be used as a genetic sample for Decruda's project.

Circling the tower, a single raven slowly decended from the air; tied to it's leg was a message intended for the only inhabitants of this barren, lifeless land.

Alofting upon a windowsill, the raven tapped on the glass.

Caw! Caw!

At the open window, the bird took flight again; quickly circling the open room several times befores swooping through a low doorway and into the Keep. It decended through the hallways and, soon, the tunnels of the ruins making perfect turns as if it knew perfectly where it was going already.

It's path ended when it reached a barred door, however; and the raven was left to perch upon it and wait.

As the door opened, the Raven alofted again with a "caw" that echoed through the twisting labrynth. It circled once in the tunnel, passing near to an open torch flame, and then entered through the freshly opened door to find itself a place to perch upon the edge of an ancient alchemist's desk.

"Caw!"

The bird turned its head to the side abruptly, then set to work pruning its feathers.

The Message Wrote:

The underground of Lament is a den of filth, full of crime, poverty, and death. From here we can move at our own pace, within easy reach of fresh meat. With the gates closed, the walled city becomes a prison. This city is a perfect place to harvest. We have only to take it for ourselves.

- Gavin Bayle

The raven, its task completed, faded into nothingness as it was released from its binding to this plane.

</summon>

"Bloody hell, I'm lost," the death knight grumbled as he brought his nightmare to a halt, gazing up at unfamiliar mountains, and an unfamiliar coast. He had started off in the right direction, riding away from Yaits City, but had somehow gotten turned around in the desert, and ended up looping around to the east, rather than staying west. Unfortunately, the Black General didn't realize that until a couple days later, when he noticed that he was still in the desert.

"Where am I?" the Black General asked himself as he gazed up at the mountains again. The death knight sensed a high concentration of death magic nearby. Another necropolis? Bringing his shadowy steed about, the Black General rode toward the Keep.

The Black General came upon the Ruins of Sorrow's Keep, pulling his steed to a halt. He put a hand on the pommel of his sword, gazing around and looking for any signs of life or activity. "This must be a crypt. I wonder if anyone's home."

The Black General wasn't just another somebody. He was a death knight, a creature of undeath and corruption - perfect for this type of setting. His helmed head turned upward at the figure that appeared on the balcony. Eyes glowing like embers stared at her for a moment, but there would be no hostile action. Other than the chill aura of dread that always surrounded him, the death knight would make no moves. Instead, he would ask a simple question.

"What is this place?"

Decruda was busy at the moment. He wouldnt recieve the message. However, if the man would approach the ruins, he would be greeted by the wraiths, which of course, would question his presence, and his business.

"This is Sorrow's Keep. Lair of the Damned. What is your business here?"

"Directions," the death knight replied. "How do I reach the Northernlands from here?" The General didn't feel very welcomed here. Well, he didn't really feel welcomed anywhere, except his own Keep, but that no longer existed. Such is the fate of one such as himself.

"Bloody hell..." he grumbled as he looked in the direction the wraith pointed, off to the horizon and beyond. A good week of hard riding, he guessed. Good thing nightmares didn't tire.

The death knight looked over to the woman again, this time not answering back. Pulling the reins of his nightmare, he kicked it's flanks and began riding off toward the direction he had been pointed to, beginning what would proabbly be a week-long ride across the entire land.

Ba-bump...

Its eyelids unfolded as bubbles of air escaped from its open mouth.

Ba-bump...

Its mouth closed, splitting into a wicked grin.

Ba-bump...

A hand reached out of the luminescent pool, clawing for a handhold in the rocky ground before finding purchase. A second hand would reach out, fingers curling around the edge of the pool before the arms attached to both pulled, dragging the rest of the naked body out of the liquid.

Decruda crept out of the pool with a mad smile on his lips, his body dripping the viscous liquid of the spawning pools as he pushed himself to his feet.

His memory was clear as a cloudless sky, and he was well aware of what he did, why he did it, and what had happened as a result of it. He saw the opposing forces' organization. He saw weapons - guns specifically - armed with various magical rounds which fired at him and witnessed the effects. He heard the magic alarms which rang everytime magic was used in the area. He experienced firsthand some sort of antimagic device. He remembered an object ripping into his back and out thorugh his chest; high velocity, soundless, long distance - snipers. He knew very well what they would be dealing with.

The body was easily expendable for such information, and anyone that thought Decruda was actually trying to walk out of the city is a fool; he was a genuis. He moved around in plain view, looking for trouble, in fact, he was clearly inviting it. Kill a few guards here, get the attention of some guards there; he more or less learned everything they had to throw at him, maybe give or take a few things. The city guards of Lament were played like pawns in a game of chess, so easily manipulated in the high alert situation.

He stepped forward with his right leg before his left followed. And one step at a time, he walked out of the large chamber of pools and into the dark halls as he chuckled quietly to himself.

"I am..." he paused for a moment as he turned back to gaze at the woman, answering her question "Definately okay."

And off again, he'd head towards his chambers. He was walking around naked and all, having just crawled out of the spawning pool.

He'd tell her now as he walked off down the tunnel, it wasnt going to take long anyways. "It was an invitation to something going down in Lament. Not important anymore though." And then the sound of a door closing would scho down the hall.

Decruda would sit down at his desk, sweeping his right arm across it to brush away a few items, namely his tools and a little tiny chest. How they got there would be a complete mystery, but that wasnt important. He'd pick up the glass knife, as it really wasnt a dagger anymore, and slowly began to cut at his face, following the outsides as he looked into a mirror. No pain. So the taint followed him to this body too.

When he was finished, he wiped some of the black blood from his head into a vial before pouring some sort of liquid over the large flap of skin as well as his raw face before he would go and get dressed and headed back out, backtracking to the irridescent pools. In one such pool, which appeared completely empty, if not a bit murky, he poured his recently collected blood. And for now, he was done.

He was back, staring down at the murky goop. So it seemed this clone would be grown quicker than the other one; they all had a variable growth time of somewhere between two to eight months. It just appeared that this one would be grown in the smaller timeframe.

Well, how about he help speed up the process a litthe bit? He would cast a simple haste spell. Haste was a very effective spell as it would increase the recipient's speed, allowing them to move twice as fast as normal for a small duration of time, however, the backlash was an extremely high metabolism which ages the body equivalent to a year. In this case, the speed increase was not the desired end, but rather, the backlash, as the body would begin to grow at an accelerated rate. He'd walk off and come back to check on it later.

And for the time being, he would occasionally return to accelerate the growth a little more with another haste spell here and there.

Huh... so there were weird growths starting to coming out of the child's back now? Of course, several days had passed, and each day which did, Decruda came back to cast another haste spell, aging the clone yet another year to accelerate its growth and development. So now there appeared to be a strange mutation which began jutting out of its back. He didn't do anything about it however, but he would cast another haste spell and see what comes about it when he checkes back on it the next day.

Meanwhile, he'd go back to reading that book of his. Something about the dark road and all.

"Growing clones take time," he began, and though he was normally a very patient person, willing to spend years on a scheme if need be, he was rather interested in the individual development of this clone, "I'm just speeding up the process." he finished with a grin. And into the chamber he went, and back out a moment later after casting a spell.

He remembered a large sword swinging through the air, ripping apart bodies as his legs moved, but that was more or less all he could remember, it was all just so chaotic, his body moved on its own, and his mind only seemed to watch everything in slow motion.

Bursting out of the tunnel, he broke into the dimness of night in the shadowy ruins of Sorrow's Keep, gasping for breath, the large weapon still in his hands. He didnt know why, but for its massive size, it sure seemed light. He even took the time to peer at it has he hunched over to draw breath, anf for some strange reason, the slab of metal actually looked like a presentable weapon in the moonlight. Until something blocked out the moon.

He automatically looked up, seeing something large. It was not a cloud which blocked out the moonlight, but something else, something solid, an... island?

But before he had a really good chance to just stand there and take a look at it, he heard the moans of the dead echoing out of the tunnel. He certainly did not have any further desire to stay here any longer, so he dismissed the thought of a giant floating island in the sky from his mind and ran. Where? Away, thats for sure, he just got out, he wasnt going back to such a dreaded place.

Decruda? He was out.

Why? Because he had to go hunt down an escaped experiment.

Because thats what happens when you tamper with s**t instead of leaving it on its own.

((Sorry to cut into your timeline, but I just got a brilliant idea. If you need me to, I'll delete this post.))

A Few Months Previous

A figure clad in a black trenchcoat with the collar up to conceal his face stood on the outskirts of the ruins and looked over their construction with a critical eye. One large hand removed itself from the pockets of said trenchcoat to adjust the brim of the hat that sat awkwardly on his head, then returned like a watchdog who sees that all is well. He leaned on the rickety fence that was erected by the townsfolk--which had failed, as the stranger was within the boundaries it fenced off--letting the horrible chill from the aura of negative energy wash over him as he ignored it entirely.

???: The wraiths will be coming any second now...

Yes...this stranger was familiar with the lore of this place. Who was he, and what did he want?

The stranger had been standing near the fence for some time, and his patience was growing thin as his puzzlement grew.

???: There are supposed to be wraiths here...aren't there? Bah, no matter.

He made a small disgruntled noise before lumbering further into the fenced-off area, shivering slightly as the bite of negative energy-induced cold grew stronger.

???: All I care about is this place...and if I can avoid a few negotiations to use this site, so much the better.

He drew from the sleeve of his trenchcoat what appeared to be a divining rod...but near the handle an ornate knot was tied around it with a thin cord of golden hue. He held it before himself as he walked, turning slowly to and fro as he did...

The stranger grimaced in disgust as he returned the divining rod to the sleeve of his trenchcoat.

???: Had I only a few minutes more, I might have found what I was seeking without any interruption...

He gestured expansively, as he did not know the source of the voice.

???: "I am here because many have died here. So many souls were guided to the Underworld from here that the separation between it and our world is thin. I wish to conduct a ceremony that requires such a thin divide between life and death. Once I have finished, I will put this place to my back."

The stranger grimaced yet again.

???: Well, I expected as much...and yet I am loathe to give them information.

He turned, seeking the source of the voice as his voice rang out in the negative energy-induced silence.

???: "The purpose is to communicate with Anubis, guide of souls..." And, if I'm lucky, Osiris himself.

The stranger then waited, tapping one foot as he continued to look for what spoke to him.

The stranger almost sighed in relief when he heard the verdict of the wraiths.

???: "Yes, thank you. You may observe...but I don't know if you will be able to understand it all."

He reached back into his trenchcoat for the divining rod, which he then began to explain as he walked, sweeping it back and forth.

???: "First I must find the place where the Underworld touches our world with the least resistance. Then the odds that the ceremony will succeed increase."

Without warning, the divining rod quivers and dips to point at a spot near the Demon's Chasm. The stranger smiled and walked with the pull of the divining rod until it pointed straight at the ground.

???: "Excellent. This is the strongest response I've gotten from it."

He then reached inside his trenchcoat and pulled out a flask and a small bag of what appeared to be grain. Then he began to chant in a strange tongue, sketching a jackal's head over the spot the divining rod was drawn to, then pouring out the flask and the bag of grain over the jackal's head. Finally, he lit a match and dropped it onto the moistened grain...which burst into flames. In the flickering light of the flames, it almost appeared that the mouth of the jackal was...moving? The stranger stared at the flames, entranced, and his lips moved soundlessly as though carrying on a conversation with some force invisible to most observers. Finally:

???: "How can I be sure it will work?! ...Yes. I trust your judgement, my lord. My faith is lacking...I have seen little to help it grow...my thanks, my lord. I shall follow the steps as you described them. Thanks to your aid, the warrior will be brought back."

Shaking his head as though to clear it, the stranger swept the smouldering pile of grain and the hieroglyph into oblivion as he stood. He looked around aimlessly, attempting to catch a glimpse of a wraith to speak towards.

???: "My task is complete...however, I may need to return to conduct it again."

???: "Then I pray I need not return."

As promised, the stranger put the ruins to his back, making his way into warmer and warmer air as the concentration of negative energy decreased. With a relieved sigh, the stranger unbuttoned his trenchcoat and let the wind carry it once he hopped the badly-constructed fence. The wind parted its front to reveal a sundisc of Ra hanging about his neck.

???: And for your protection in dark places, Ra, I thank thee.

The stranger strode to a waiting SUV parked nearby. Within, an anxious face peered out an opened window as the wind whipped the trenchcoat that hung loosely on the stranger's frame.

Driver: "Well, sir? Did it work?"

???: "Yes, it worked. Let us leave this dark place."

Driver: "Yes sir, Mr. Ra."

With a great amount of relief, the driver started the engine of the SUV and tore away from the dark remains of the keep. In the back, Amon puzzled over the meaning of the words of Anubis.

Amon: Make the mark of Horus upon the eye Osiris lost...next make the mark of eternity on his back...then make the mark of the scarab over his heart. Hmm...and he said this would aid what I have already accomplished.

The mind of Amon Ra was occupied by how to accomplish the word of Anubis for the duration of the travel home...

Life. It drew them in. Shadows and shades, a glimpse of shape, a whisps of air, illusions abound. But this wasnt just another life, oh no, this was a weak life, that of a dying man, that of the damned. Were it not for this, the wraiths wouldnt be so attracted to something which would be one of them in such a heavily desecrated place.

One of us...

One of us...

One of us...

Like whispers in the wind or maybe a hallucination, Moonblade might even begin hearing the silent chanting, standing before the door of death. Metaphorically and figuratively. How much time did he have? Hours? Minutes?

"Speak your business." a chill hollow voice echoed out to the man who had come to this damned land.

Join us...

Become one of us...

One of us...

Of us...

Join us...

There was a dark form in front of the man, almost human in shape except that it seemed to only be a torso, the space where the legs should be nothing more than whisps of blackness. Nothing but darkness, no defined features, only a shape. And two white pits where the eyes in the head would have been, burned brightly in the darkness. It did not speak, for it had no mouth. It simply held out an open hand.

And the echoes and whispers continued, louder, stronger.

JOIN US.

Live...

Join us...

One of us...

The figure didnt move, it simply would stare at the man, hand open, still inviting as the other voices chimed in over one another.

Cheat...

Live or die, it was the man's choice to do as his free will will dictate, the decision his to make. But that was why he came was it not? To cheat that one thing which loomed so close to the man, and which saturated the surrounding land.

DEATH.

But what of morals? Would he give them up so easily for the chance to remain? To fulfil that which is unfulfilled? Can he throw such things away so that he may live and regret it later, or will he just simply die and be forgotten?

Cold black fingers clamped around the man's hand when he took it. The dark figure's eyes flaring a bright white in the process, and as Moonblade would grasp on, forsaking morals and 'goodness', his hand would feel like it was being burned by a flame so hot that it would feel ice cold.

It would last for but a split second, and then they were gone, whisked away by the darkness. Taken to who knows where. It all just disappeared into the night without a trace; the dark form, Moonblade, and the voices would die out quietly.

One of us...

--- A dangerous past.

His body, incapable to move. He was still conscious. He didn't know what to do, he couldn't move his eyes. Just to look up to the skies is what he was able to do.

He didn't know what was going to happen next, but his body just laid in the arms of the four demon-like creatures... ghouls... whatever the hell they were. He felt like he was really screwed.

NO EARTH?! Never mind, he's screwed.

"Well... what do we have here?" Decruda stepped into the scene with a curious question.

Sure there was earth. Earth everywhere. Earth surrounding them. They were underground and all. The only problem was that the holding area of the caverns was just a giant chasm. Up top, the ceiling would be lost in darkness, below, the same, and once again, across from the rather large ledge which housed the adamantine doorway, it ended in empty darkness.

The holding cells of course, were held around fifty meters out from the edge of the ledge on the scarcely lit wall, out from bridges made of adamantine. Each one was as odd and different as each individual would be, none were the same; this only attributed to the appearance that the cells were crudely made or even scavenged from existing ones.

And the truth was something like that.

Adamantine was a heavily used metal in this area for two simple reasons; one, it was an extremely strong alloy, so it made sense to be used for holding cells; and two, being in diplomatic relations with the drow, the metal was easily accessable.

Anyway, back to the situation at hand.

"Another test subject perhaps?"

Meanwhile...

Silver Moonblade was dumped across a cold metal table rather unceremoniously in a dimly lit room illuminated only by an equally cold unnatural sourceless light.

"You..." the examiner, a rather gaunt looking man with pale sunken eyes and who appeared to have a habit of folding up his dirty hands close to his chest began, "Are dying."

Something it didnt take a genius to discover. Such an obvious and dumb statement would probably put the examiner's ability in question. Until of course, he continued.

"Your body is rapidly breaking down." he went on, "Not to mention the fact that your body is overfilled with arcane energy. This body of yours, though it can produce energy like this, is useless, because it cant metabolise and break it down." speaking with a cold mechanical tone that reflected a professional doctor's analysis of something. The only difference here was that the examiner clearly didnt have a medical degree or a even certification as a real doctor.

"This thing that you want; to live even when you know you are doomed, is bold. By doing so, you will be one of us, the world will forsake you, you will be forever cursed, forever damned." he continued, finishing with a question "Is it truly what you want?"

This was a very important question. Here, in the cursed lands, this organization, unlike those on the surface which paraded around in public, dd not measure wealth in money. It measured resources in bodies. Currency in souls. And one thing was definate; a freely given soul was the most valuable of commodities.

But it didnt matter if Moonblade understood that what he wanted was a binding contract to hand over his soul on his own free will in order to remain on this world but live a cursed life. He was going to die if he didnt, and a corpse was just another resource to be had.

"Ah yes, thank you." Decruda said as he looked the man over.

"You may go if you wish." he answered her question before he began to cross over the bridge to where the man would be located, his mouth twisting into a smile.

Another earth guy, he might not need, but a living subject was excellent. Especially so that he was in need of parts of a person at the moment.

He couldnt really just go and drag a body without restraints through the caverns, as the holding cells were not moveable, so he'd have to sedate the man to make sure.

Unable to get too close because of the pit, he'd simply take out his blowgun, load it with one of the needles, and shoot it at the man's body. Preferably the neck. And then just for good measure, he'd shoot another one on the other side.

Let the toxin sedate him while he got to work on the bindings before he would drag the body over the bridge and dump it on one of the metal tables.

And then out the door, through the dark halls, they would head towards the other room, where one dying Silver Moonblade would be located. Ready to sell his soul to the devil.

"Yes." There was someone else here.

A man who had stumbled into the area of course, come to cheat death. And of course, resources would be needed to do something about it. It just happened that it was quite fortunate for the two people to show up at once.

She paused, then moved her eyes in an arc. It was a contemplative gesture.

"I'll watch."

As if right on cue, the other man was rolled into the room as well, Decruda pushing the metal table on wheels with Descant in tow, as she decided to follow and watch.

As for Moonblade, his cursed body now would be little of comparison to what would he become in the very near future. By accepting the deal, he signed a contract with his spirit. The hand he had grasped the shadow form's hand with when he entered the grounds of the keep would feel as if it was burning once again as the flesh on the palm of his hand would blister and turn to scar tissue; a brand, marked in the shape of a circle with a crescent moon covering half of a crude skull in the backdrop. And then the brand would disappear, sinking into the flesh, marking the soul.

Now, during that short amount of time Moonblade would be branded, the table which carried Joran's body would be rolled right up next to the dying man's, crashing into it with a metallic jar as Decruda held it in place to keep it from rolling any further before he walked off towards the far wall. A wall whose many shelves were lined with many bottles, potions, and jars of scrolls; typical tools of a magical workshop.

"See what you can do to keep him alive while I search for that potion..." Decruda directed the examiner, "His blood is unclean, correct? Clean it."

The gaunt examiner began to edge towards the two bodies.

"Dont move." he began as his dirty hands reached out at the two, "Have you ever heard of spiritual surgery? Where the practitioner needs no tools such as a scalpel?"

Yeah... he was going to use nothing but his hands. Those dirty, mangled, leathery hands, whose thin fingers ended in fingernails whose tips were black, filth having accumilated beneath them without proper hygenic practices over long periods of time.

One arm outstretched towards each man, he placed his fingers against each man's chest before he pressed down, feeling a second's resistance before it disappeared and his hands sunk into flesh.

Now, Moonblade was not suppose to move as having a hand inside one's body, moving around doing who knows what could be potentially fatal. And likewise for Joran. The only difference was that Joran would be unconscious, or at least paralyzed, so he shouldnt have to worry about it.

The 'surgeon' worked quickly though, for what he was going to do was pick out either man's circulatory system, pulling their arteries and veins sticking out of the skin out of their bodies to tie and fuse them together. The point of this was very simple. Moonblade didnt have the ability to metabolise the arcane energy produced in his own body, so it would be directed to flow directly into the other man's to be broken down, cleaned through the other man's system.

As for the risk that the other man also wouldnt be able to metabolise the arcana, that was extremely unlikely. As noted by Descant, the man Joran had some sort of power with elemental earth. The elements of course, part of the inner planes, were arcane energies to begin with, so it shouldnt be a problem at all. However, the risk of improper blood transfusion such as different blood types did run a very serious risk, as well as any diseases which were spread though blood. But that didnt really matter anyway, because this process was only to prolong Moonblade's life expectancy for a short period of time, and then he wouldnt really need his body much afterwards anyway. The only one who really had to worry about such a thing would be Joran.

Also, now that their bodies were directly connected, it would be hard for one or the other to move very far away from one another without severing major blood vessels and causing both to bleed to death as their systems went through one another. For the moment, if one died, the other would die as well.

"It is done, sir." the examiner would say as he moved towards the wall, looking to help Decruda scour the area for the needed 'tools'.

Joran's body was truly still, besides the shallow breathing. The sedation has done its job. And the operation, so to speak, was commencing.

The mind of Joran would be feeling as if in a dark cave, not having the ability to move at all. But that's like how he's being now. Laying on a table, in an unknown place... nowhere to run, and nowhere to hide.

For some reason, with the said operation, Joran just laid.

What was the operation about... and what are these contracts being made?

Well, Moonblade would need to be conscious for the next part of the procedure. However, the next part would take some time, as the two men began work on a potion of sorts off to the back of the room. Several moments would pass before Decruda would speak, turning from the table over at the two bodies, giving a simple instruction to the woman who watched.

"Wake him up."

Hopefully, she would know that he was referring to Moonblade. And as for how she would do it? Well, it really didnt matter all that much, as long as he was conscious.

~Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Twack.

"Hey, wake up."

Silver's emerald eyes creped open. He first turned his head slowly towards the woman who had smacked him upside the head, and then towards the the man who he was now connected to. Moonblade was quite groggy, but he was awake and wasn't really going anywhere. Especially with someone else's life flowing through his veins and the arm that held him still.

"....what?"

Silver blinked twice, staring at the putrid looking substance. He didn't exactly have a lot of confidence in what he was being handed, but his thought process wasn't exactly on par right now. Without giving it more thought, he downed the potion in one hearty gulp. The liquid chilled so thoroughly that it actually burned as it went down, but he'd do it without fuss.

Oh, right... the other guy. Wouldnt want him to die as well, now do we? Needed to question him and all that.

"You may begin." Decruda spoke to the 'surgeon' as he turned around to grab something off of the shelf. Something relatively large and rock-like, a little larger than his closed hand.

The examiner of course, would be moving relatively quickly, severing the blood vessels shared between the two men and putting them back into their bodies, and hopefully back into place properly with those dirty hands.

Now then, back to the... operation? Ritual? Whatever.

The potion Moonblade would injest was very similar to that of a mage's 'ascension' to lichdom, though its purpose was somewhat different. The spells cast upon it slightly altered; curse, false life, chill blood, enervation, permanency. The negative energy would spread, corrupting his body in a massive wave, even transferring to charge his loosely strewn about red clothes, tainting them a deep purplish colour. He should be dead, but he wasnt.

The potent negative energy which would be in the potion itself would indeed be enough to kill the body like that of a lich's brew. However, instead of animation of dead, a curse and false life placed upon it would give Moonblade a cursed life. He would be living a half life. And just as his body and soul would be weakened, body as if it was dying, Decruda would come back from the back of the laboratory, stone in hand as he would cast a spell, or rather, two.

Normally, a phylactery is crafted to house the spirit of a lich with the use of a magic jar and permanency spell placed upon it. However, magic jar worked for a caster. Instead, Moonblade's soul would be the one placed into the makeshift phylactery.

Soul bind, false life, permanency; Even as his body would die and be given a false life, the weakened state would draw his soul out and into the 'stone', trapping it within. Meanwhile, the surgeon of course, would be opening up Moonblade's chest. As in splitting his rib cage open. Not like he could really feel it or anything.

Decruda handed the stone to the surgeon as it slowly began to change colour. Going from a dry and dusty grey colour to a light pink, slowly getting redder and redder.

The surgeon of course, took it in his hands and did something quite odd with it. Removing the heart out of Moonblade's body, he would replace it with the red stone before closing the body back up. A stone which wasnt so hard anymore. A stone which moved on its own, beating slowly. A stone which actually looked more like a heart than a stone at the moment.

A demon's heart is quite a powerful magic item. Given time, removed from the body, it transforms, turning into a rock-like state. Silver Moonblade would have his heart changed for that of a demon's.

Blood would be pumped in the cursed body as Moonblade would once again find himself in control of it. As for the real heart, having been removed, the surgeon gave it to the man in charge. Who in turn handed it off to the woman.

"I'll leave that for you to keep." he told her. Essentially, she was entrusted with Silver Moonblade's life and soul, which he had signed off to live. The heart wouldnt die; even without being attached to the body, even without blood moving through it, it still beat, and when the remaining electrical memory signals in it dies, it would continue to beat.

So what the hell did that make Silver Moonblade? A creature which lived a cursed life.

His body would inherit some undead traits. His pain tolerance would increase dramatically, most of the nerves dying, he would still be able to feel pain, but it wouldnt bother him so much. However, at the same time, his sense of taste and smell would be dulled. Something one takes for granted wouldnt seem so bad of a pay-off, but imagine where everything you eat tastes like cardboard unless it was smothered in a layer of salt.

His false life would also make him relatively unaffected to negative energy, though positive energy would still affect him normally like a living being, healing him if exposed to it. Also, his body would grow extremely resistant to diseases, though toxins and poisons would still affect him normally.

However, there was one catch; that which would make him forever seperated from the world, something which drove him to do evil. The demon's heart.

Moonblade's body, though inhabited by himself, was also home for the demon's heart. Every day, to retain his 'humanity', that being his ability to think and control the body properly, he would have to ingest a pint, or five hundred milliletres of living blood. Similar to that of a Vampire. A recently deceased body will not suffice, it would have to be provided by a living host.

If he did not abide by this 'hunger', every hour after twenty four hours, he would begin to feel the craving, stronger every time. For every hour afterwards, he would have to consume double the amount, growing exponentially. One hour afterwards, he would need to consume one litre of blood. Two hours, two litres, three hours, four litres, and so on.

However, if he did not ingest blood for thirty hours, the demon would awaken. His body would be taken over, and he would not be the one in control of it. All he would be able to do was watch as the mindless beast of his body would go wild in a feeding frenzy, unsatiated until it would have consumed one hundred litres of blood. Only at such a time would he be back in control. One hundred litres of blood was a lot. Over twenty people's worth of liquid life.

The fact that many diseases were carried though the blood would be of little consequence, for his high resistance to disease would keep him from getting sick or contracting such deseases. Also, his magically charged blood would once again be metabolized, as the demon's heart would feed off of it naturally, demons being creatures naturally heavily involved with the arcane.

And Decruda would tell Moonblade of the stipulations very simply. This was what he wanted, to live; but this was the price to pay. He could never truely die.

((Author's note: For the sake of RPing purposes, I dont give a s**t whether or not this twisted DnD referenced combination would even actually work. It does, because I say so.))

Was that fear she just shown? Maybe it wasn't, but for some reason, his body just laid there with Moonblade. His mind was trying to find itself in the duration of the operation. Moonblade having consciousness is sort of giving him some consciousness as well, but there's nothing he could do at this point and time.

Another groan comes from his body, this time, it was more of a slight chortle than a groan. The element of earth, he couldn't reach, but for some reason... it felt as if the ground was shifting in his mind.

04 Spriggan Wrote:

"That... thing--" Descant waved a finger in Joran's general direction. "--needs to be strapped down. If he wakes up as fast as... what's his name?" Moonblade. "...Whatever. I believe you understand my meaning." What with his elemental alignment and all. She was exaggerating the time a bit, considering Moonblade's being groggy and unable to feel or function during the procedure.

And while she was speaking, the surgeon, being in such close proximity to both me, would have simply stuck his hands into the man once again, taking initiative to the situation. Performing two motions. The first one, shifting one of his C4 vertabrae so that it would paralyze his body from the shoulders down, and the second one to tie a knot in his intestines. The second one was just because the author thinks it would be funny. And then the surgeon would take his dirty hands back out of the man's body as he recieved an order from Decruda.

"Take him to the interogator." the mastermind said as he pressed one of the drugged needles into the back of the man's head to inject the neurotoxins directly into the affected areas to keep him under.

And so, as he examiner and surgeon would begin to push the metal cart carrying Joran's body to some other dark place, where supposedly someone known as the interogator would be found, Decruda would go in a different direction.

"Walk." He instructed Moonblade as his fingers would curl to tell him to follow.

And so begins the brainwashing.

"Do you know why you are here?" Moonblade didnt need to answer that, it was a rhetorical question, "Because you are weak. And the weak will always strive to change that, to overthrow the strong, to replace the strong. What you were, was nothing. What you are now, is just a little more than nothing."

"This is your second chance in life, but even then, you are of little improvement." Sure, Moonblade may have been made tougher, but in the end, all he really still had were his old skills and abilities.

"Do you know why you are weak? It is because of those things you call 'friends', those you call 'family'. Those people close to you who hold you back, who keep you down; people like your former teammates. They are fakes, false pretenders. People who see the potential in you, but for their own sake, keep you down. Why? Because they are also weak.

"Your existence to them serves little more than as a cover, a way for them to look at you and tell themselves that they are better than you. A way for them to assert themselves as being someone not on the bottom of the food chain. That is what you mean to them. They dont care about you, they only care about themselves."

They went through the dark corridors and into a large open room as Decruda shuffed off to the side to grab something, turning around and tossing a polearm of sorts to the man. It resembled a spear with a wicked curved blade sprouting from the base of the original blade, perpendicular to the haft and main blade of the weapon. The weapon itself was oddly lightweight, and the blades shone with a razor keeness. Obviously, it was somewhat magical or enchaned in a way.

"Crush these people, bring me their heads, and you will become strong."

The task itself shouldnt be too hard for Moonblade to accomplish. He should know the people he was to go after; know their strengths, their weaknesses, their personalities. And what then when he destroyed them?

"These people exist to keep you down. They are the shackles that bind you. They personify your weakness. Remove them, and you remove your weaknesses."

So, it begins... For some reason or another, Joran's body has been taken away from the original operating room. The Interrogator would have to ask Joran questions or whatever the case it was to the man, woman, boy, girl... it's thought the picture is given.

So, now, he's incapable of moving his body below his neck, but still... his body will continue its involuntary passages of a beating heart, and breathing lungs... well, what seems to be a beating heart and breathing lungs at this point and time.

What's the real situation Decruda has with Joran? He did nothing to her... least, not to the author's knowledge. Maybe another male in the area was just a bit too much, and possibly there was a report to how he has gotten there, but to any case. Joran was taken away... and placed into another dark place. For some reason, Joran couldn't wake up.

And now, with the said chemicals were placed in Joran's neck. The signals begin to recooperate with each other giving off a delicate reaction to the syringe. A light flicker of the lids over the eyes, but a slight groan escapes once more.

But now, his mind being slightly more received by his consciousness, he begins to feel himself waking up. There's a problem, however, when moving only his head does the moving. Apparently, the body was still paralyzed, and felt even more numb. Not a good feeling. It feels more painful than before, but he had to take use to this for now.

A voice was heard... Who is that? His eyes open slightly looking more confused than cautious, "And who..." He coughs, feeling as if his body was out cold for more than a day, then clearing his throat, "are you?"

Lo' and behold-- an endless shadow would encroach upon the lands, as something massive blocked out the sun, seemingly appearing from out of nowhere.

It was a floating island... and definitely not a cloud.

(Posted in Eden as well)

Leonard had a gut wrenching cough, he hated winter, the cold weather really pissed him off. A stump of a cigarette, fell into the unkempt field. The box in his pocket was empty except for the leftover shreds of tobacco so he crumpled it up forcefully and tossed it next to the smoking stump. At least it was sunny outside.

WTF!!!! :domo:

It got colder, shady, and a bit windy. Clarabelle cuddled closer inside his coat as he raised his fist at the big floating island.

"Damn you Victor!! I needed that F*&#ing sunlight!! Clarabelle is cold, you stop blocking Insect Master's sun or you'll F$#&ing regret it!!"

As he was looking up, shaking his fist...... SLAM!

He banged into the side of Sorrow's Keep and fell unconscious for a minute.

"Oh st, shadowy figures!" Leo said, "That can't be ****** good."

Quote:** Wrote:

"State your business."

His posture became defensive, his legs a foot apart, his claws held in front of his chest, and his left hand ready to draw his weapon of choice.

"The insects told me to go see Victor, do you have a F^%$ing problem with that. I don't have a F$%&ing problem with you. I never had F$%&ing problem in my life. Cept that I never wear any F$%&ing shoes and my feet get blisters. But they're not cold, I've never gotten frostbite yet."

He examined the shadowy figures as he spoke, too damn many of them in his opinion. His insect control would be limited here, but he was feeling rather badass right now.

"I'm the insect master, I'm not a F*#$ing joke, and their are plenty of bugs around, despite the cold. I can sense more coming, they always follow."

That next move... she still didn't know what it was. Right now, she was under no orders so could move around freely, who whatever it was she wanted. Right now, she wanted to play the reed. Maybe, work on the magics behind another song, changing notes and whole bars that she could spend less time playing and more time enchanting. Excusing herself from Decruda (lest he actually need her-- and then again, he knew how to contact her), she sat astride the shoulders of one of her four bulky assistants. All were draped in black with stripes along the cloth, giving the appearance of uniformity within a troupe.

She was wetting her lips to play an unseen flute when she and her entourage were made aware of the reason the foul-mouthed visitors were there. Descant rested her chin on her "horse." She effectively echoed the words of the ghostly beings. "There exists here none by the name of Victor. If there be no other business, then take your leaves."

The only problem with even the toughest cockroaches were that they were alive. Sorrow's Keep was a place so full of negative energy that life would literally be sucked right out of a living creature. The larger creatures of course, would be drained at a much slower rate than that of a smaller creature. That was why there were no animals, no grass, and the trees were dead husks.

As for the insects which left the man's body, they'd be dead within a matter of seconds from leaving a source of larger life. No matter how many there were, if they could combine their mass into that of a man, they were still each individual tiny creatures, dead within seconds. It was not how inhospitable the environment might be for a creature's natural toughness that was in question, it was a simple fact that they were alive, and would have their life sucked out. However, staying close to the man, they would have had place to find cover, hiding their own meager life force in the much larger one available to be drained.

The only residents of the keep who were living were those allowed to remain. And most free living matter was always suspended in pools of embalming fluid or spawning pools to preserve and protect them from the negative energy. There were no insects here. As such, there would be no cockroaches to come swarming out from rock ruins, no matter how foul the place was... underground that is. Above ground, Sorrow's Keep was just a ruined landscape of cold stone of chill blowing winds. Anything of importance was kept deep below ground. And the deeper one got to the heart of darkness, the more powerful the negative energy in the area was.

If the man could be connected with the tiny critters, if he could feel their pain, he'd probably be experiencing death again and again as they would die off away from his proximity. But that wasnt the shadows' and wraiths' concern at all.

The man refused to leave.

They advanced, swarming him in order to feast upon the life of the living..

The problem with trying to attack a a magical creature with a mundane weapon was that it wouldnt work. Such as a shadow or a wraith, which required magical or enchaned weapons to actual damage, for they were incorporeal. The cleaver would seemingly pass right through the dark figure. And even as the man would be swinging away, the shadow would be raking its dark fingers across the man's belly in return, never making a move to defend itself but rather attack at the same time. And just like everything else, the shadow's fingers seemed to pass through the man, into his flesh and then back out without even leaving a mark.

However, it would do damage, not any physical damage as one may think, as evident that it left no wounds, but instead, it would pull out the man's life, rip it away as if claws would rip apart flesh physically; draining his strength, making the pain receptors in that specific area of the body fire signals to the brain.

And the same would happen if the man tried to jump through its body or the swinging limbs of the others as they closed any gaps available to trap the man. Only to do so was only damaging to oneself; to move directly through a creature who's touch alone drains one's life.

They were going to suck the man's life out. And when the gloomy grey sky of day receeded and turned to night, the ghouls would wander out of the underground and feast on the withered flesh.

However, in the case that the cleaver was enchanted, the shadow would be split into, cleaver digging into its neck even as its claws were still in motion to rip into the man while the others did the same.

Quote:** Wrote:

The problem with trying to attack a a magical creature with a mundane weapon was that it wouldnt work. Such as a shadow or a wraith, which required magical or enchaned weapons to actual damage, for they were incorporeal. The cleaver would seemingly pass right through the dark figure. And even as the man would be swinging away, the shadow would be raking its dark fingers across the man's belly in return, never making a move to defend itself but rather attack at the same time. And just like everything else, the shadow's fingers seemed to pass through the man, into his flesh and then back out without even leaving a mark.

However, it would do damage, not any physical damage as one may think, as evident that it left no wounds, but instead, it would pull out the man's life, rip it away as if claws would rip apart flesh physically; draining his strength, making the pain receptors in that specific area of the body fire signals to the brain.

Unfortunately, to be painfully hinest, the cleaver had no enchantment.

And it would hurt, Leo would feel it, he would cough blood, and moments before it felt as they had completely severed his life from his body, they would feel the nature of that single life force change into hundreds of multiple ones.

Leo managed to get out of the encirclement alive, blood was dripping from his mouth, but he was still full of life and vigor. He almost knelt as hundreds of dried roaches fell from his body. They had killed his travelling companions, his eyes narrowed, he felt the blood lust. His remaining insects would be more resistant to having their life sucked away now, they would have to be acted upon as long as they were in the range of Leo's control.

"Death Masters!? Why!?"

It was a good defense, but Leo needed an offense if he were to survive. The same psyhic powers he used to communicate with insects filled his cleaver. It would act as a temperory 'enchantment' dispersing the negative forces that held the shadows together. It might allow him to rend and stave off the attackers, but each one would most likely meld back minutes later. It wasn't much, but it was the best he could do.

He needed flies, he need to get to that island floating above them, but the flies were dying before they could get to his blood.

He had a thought, maybe if he retreated slowly, leaving a blood trail, then advanced again, the flies could follow him. He retreated a step, hacking at an advancing shadow in hopes that his powers would have some affect. on the 'Death Masters'

"I would destroy this F&%^ing place if I could," he snarled at them, unafraid.

"Well..." the interogator replied as he worked, "I dont think so. Either you're genuinely interested, which in that case, it wouldnt matter anyway because I wouldnt have the time to run my mouth as I work, since that would take too long, or you're trying to stall for time, which isnt important anway because of the same reason that theres just too much work to be done in the amount of time I have with you."

He cut out a piece of the man's liver and dropped it into a tray before he began closing up the wound, sewing it together rather sloppily.

As for his implications about the arm, well, that didnt matter much anyway. People had one chance to cooperate, to answer the question properly. if they didnt, then the interogator would just go to work doing things his way. So did that mean Joran wanted the man to cut off his arm or something? He just said something about following his vision as he looked at his arm, not explaining anything.

Anyways, they'd be done with him for the moment. Samples had to be examined, and that took time. The man would once again be sedated, and when he was out, he'd be carried away from the ruins and dumped out in the wilderness somewhere. Oh right, and when the man was disposed of, probably in the forest far east close to Latent, the surgeon would be there as well. He had to re-align the man's spine and untie that knot in his intestines... Well, maybe not untie that knot. Who knows? Hilarity would probably ensue from it. But he wouldnt be watching. Which means he'd probably untie that knot.

If the man was going to run, he should have done that rather than stop. When he escaped the circle, the shadows would give chase right after him, they would not let him so so easily. And how fast did they move? Well, safe to say, they werent like some shambling zombie. If anything, they moved as quickly as a normal man.

As the man slowed down, almost kneeling down, that being an indication of the slowed movement as kneeling was essentially a stationary action, they would fall upon him, shadowy claws raking down his back from the shadow directly behind him as others moved around to get to his sides and circle around him once again, in hopes that the attack to the man's back would slow him down even more.

They would stop either when they finished the man off or when instructed to do so. But the latter didnt seem likely at the moment since the only one which could do that in the area at the moment was Descant, and it didnt appear as if she was going to stop them.

The roaches in air had no chance of touching her. Her hands were spinning, a whirling motion that was like waxing an airborne surface. When the bugs were in range, her right hand pushed forward against the invisible surface and the boom of a drumming leigon sounded. With the many feet of distance between them, Leo was likely to hear absolutely nothing but he could see the round distortion of air. To those critters in the air before her, they'd hit the wall long enough to be killed off by the darkness in the area. To those that were actually in the AoE of distorted air and sound, their small bodies were likely to explode.

Of course, one couldn't expect that all of the roaches would attack in one wave. The rest would probably touch down on her black cloth, which itself was covering her body completely without actually touching her. Again, that would only be until they died on their own.

[2/2]

They were too close, and so they merely caught hold of his weapon hand as he spun around, stopping his movement.

"Get the F^%$ off me!"

They could affect him physically now, but the principle worked in reverse, he could affect them. Now he couldn't cause them pain or death, as they weren't living, and he nothing enchanted to dispel shadows. But he could disperse their energy with his own mental powers. The spin stopped, he would avoid the shados going for his left arm and punch the shadow through the gut, a burst of mental energy would follow the punch, exploding the shadow's energy so that it would have to reform. The shadow's that grabbed at his left leg would get a kick with the same pulse of psychic energy as he tried to keep from being entrapped.

"How bothersome...~"

Her hands were in no rotation, but her hand thrust forward to create another area of intense dissonance. Unlike the other that remained stationary before her, this version had forward momentum. When it met the man's body... the sound could be compared to a choir of women all screaming an octave above their range. The effect of what amounted to sound shoving the man over, was up to him in his post-spinning and dodging state.

Maybe he'd feel the shove and jump back with it, then run the heck away. Maybe he'd trip over himself and slow enough that the shadows all pounced and finished him. Maybe he'd just see the distorted air and move out of the way, placing himself deeper in the fray.

Ask her if she cared.

Only he had spun around as soon as he felt the first shadow raking at his back, so his right arm had been caught while he was spinning and facing the shadow that was once behind him, and he could attempt an attack with his left. Unfortunately he found that his legs were bound before kick at them. It was still yet to be determined if the psychic pulses had any effect.

If he had been caught from behind before he spun, then he was completely SOL.

He would hear the high pitched sound pulse. There was no escaping it, as he was entrapped and it hit him. Pushing him along with shadows, possibly helping him work free of their grasp. He grimaced as ears rang, a little bit of blood draining from his right ear.

Even if his first attack had done something, he would still be entrapped, with seemingly no way to get free. He snarled, baring his fangs at Descant, his eyes narrow like a rabid beast caught in a trap.

Then the only hope in that punch would be that when the fist hit, the burst of psychic energy emanating from his attack would hit the shadow and ring through like a wave, exciting the negative energy this creature was composed of, pushing it outward, and causing the shadow to 'burst'.

Granted, such a burst would have a backlash on Leo's on psychic protection field if it happened. And even so, only one fist would remain free, only one shadow would be dispelled, he would still be entrapped.

04 Spriggan Wrote:

(You made no mention of the sound force coming your way, so if you'd kindly edit to make mention of it somewhere... hit, miss, what you actually do or don't do about it...)

((^^^look three posts above. No mater what happens with Leo's psychic punch, this would still be in effect.))

Quote:** Wrote:

He would hear the high pitched sound pulse. There was....