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post #41 of 52 (permalink) Old 08-12-12, 06:30 PM
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I dropped into a fighting crouch with my swords held low, ready to pounce and drive my swords through Yakov's chest.

Just as I was tensing my leg muscles, beginning to propel myself forward I felt a hand on my shoulder. My fangs bared in a silent snarl but as I turned my head I made out a silver gauntlet fashioned like a claw resting upon my collarbone. Heinrick. I knew instantly that with a simple twist he could snap the bone and so I relaxed, rising and turning in one smooth movement. My eyes, blood red from the adrenaline coursing through my body met his and instantly quietened, returning to their normal dark green. “Peace, little brother. Now is not the time to test your skills against an old-blood such as Yakov and you let your anger get the better of you. Refocus and calm yourself Gaelan or will you let your anger boil to the surface and become like Ulric and Tyreal?” He said quietly and calmly.

He let go of my shoulder and moved over to Yakov, speaking in the same quiet tone he had used for me. I heard only a murmur even with my enhanced senses. I raised my blades, contemplating Blood Gold for a moment. The blade would need blood next time I drew it, much blood. I slid the swords into their sheaths and murmured so softly that Heinrick could not hear me. "But I am already more like them than you think brother."

The swords came to a halt against the lips of the scabbards and I snapped out of my contemplative mood.

I walked to Heinrick and spoke quietly so that only he could hear me. "Forgive me brother. People speak of the von Drakenblood fury and say that I do not possess it. I wonder if they are wrong. I look at these creatures infesting the halls of our father, these animals grovelling to our father and yet acting so high and mighty when speaking with the likes of me and I shudder with rage. I am a warrior Heinrick. Nothing more and nothing less. All this politicking and boot licking does not suit me."

"Each one of us sired by our father possesses some of his rage and hatred though it manifests its self differently in the five of us. Like myself I am able to keep it fully under control, You and Khalidel are relatively in control save for your violet out bursts. Ulric's rage always boils close to the surface but only truly manifests in battle...as for Tyreal....His rage will consume him. He has already gone too far and will eventually become one of the feared Vargulfs unless Father chains him within a coffin."

I smiled grimly at that. It was only the truth.

Heinrick's gaze wandered until it halted looking out of one of the huge stained glass windows. It was a masterpiece, older even than Ulric. After I scanned the hall, seeing Khalidel and Klaus clash in a deafening ring of sword on shield, sword on armour and the faint thud of sword in flesh. I cocked my head slightly, regarding Khalidel's and Klaus' fighting styles calmly. Klaus appeared relied on his weight and strength to drive his opponents down where he could hammer them into the ground. Khalidel seemed to be trying to do the same, curious indeed that he had drawn first blood for Klaus was far stronger.

Then as my eyes fixed on a shape coming for the window I began to move, tensing my leg muscles and drawing my swords.

The glass shattered and the winged vampire that had earlier been tossed from the battlements by Ulric slammed into the ground. Ulric himself was there, approaching the prone vampire with a snarl when it yelled "We are attacked! The Elves move against us! We are attacked!"

I bared my fangs in a snarl as Ulric roared, summoning the vampires to arms. "At last, a foe worthy of my blades!" I hissed

We stand upon the precipice of change. The world fears the inevitable plummet into the abyss. Watch for that moment - and when it comes, do not hesitate to leap. It is only when you fall that you learn whether you can fly.
— Flemeth

The greatest trick the Devil ever pulled was convincing the world he didn't exist.
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post #42 of 52 (permalink) Old 08-12-12, 08:58 PM
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Even as the echoes of his bellowed pronouncement started to fade from the hall, Markus was transformed back into his human form. He cracked his neck, the vertebrae clicking satisfactorily. Loose chain-mail strips fluttered about his arms, and as he knelt, giving the skin and muscle in his side a chance to finish knitting together, leaving a fresh pink scar, loud and vibrant amongst the puckered remnants of previous fights and the confrontation with his sire that led to his Blood Kiss, he heard the whispered threat of Ulrich, the vampire seemingly unable to keep his bestial side in check. Markus took an unnecessary breath, as a human would to gain some composure, before pushing himself off the cold stone floor and faced Ulrich down. He didn’t flinch when the von Drakenblood roared, less than two feet from his face, "To arms! It is time for you to fulfill the call you have come to answer. Defend this castle! To Arms! We feast on the blood of the Asrai!"

“Fool. I could have left you to be attacked, unprepared and all but defenceless. I could have soared above, whilst you were peppered with arrows and stuck with swords, laughing as you crumbled into little more significance than ash. Had I left, I could have returned here in a hundred years to find ruins, all traces of your family extinguished and scoured from the face of the Old World!” The vampire paused in berating Ulrich, spitting at his feet. “You should be thanking me,” he growled, before turning his back on the Von Drakenblood get and striding casually from the hall, face aglow with anger and contorted with bitter rage.

Once out of sight, he picked up the pace, determined now that he had to reach the equipment he’d left in the tower before he’d taken flight for his hunt. Bursting out of a door he found himself on a rampart to the west of the castle, and immediately he spotted the tower. Instead of transforming once more, he preserved his energy and forced open the tower door, running up the stairs and taking them three at a time, his long legs granting him extra speed. He almost exploded onto the roof, thankful that his armour had been untouched. With a skill born from decades of practice, he removed his sword belt and put his armour back on, tightening straps and ensuring buckles were fastened properly.

With a grin, he finally put his sword belt around his waist again, slung his shield over his back and placed his helmet over his head, finally ready to wage war. A sudden cramping sensation tore through his stomach, and he almost doubled over with the unnatural pain. Another growl, this one unintentional, ripped out of his throat, and then the pain receded as quickly as it had appeared, leaving only a dull ache and a heaviness in his limbs, a thickness in his thoughts. Only one thing rang true and clear within his mind, ‘Blood’. Almost without knowing it, he quickly made his way down to the dungeons and ripped open the throat of two cowering, pathetic slaves, who begged him for the euphoric pain of death. The blood slid off his chest plate, and pooled on the floor, whilst congealing around his mouth. Without wiping it off, he made his way back to the Great Hall, stalking through the corridors akin to the spectre of a long-dead soldier, looking for vengeance. He emerged once more in the huge, open space, completely different in form from when he had entered.

“Are they not here yet?” he murmured; voice low and rumbling, able to be heard by all.

Malochai von Carstein; Terror of Hunger Wood, Lord of Lichenhof Tower

Roleplay Characters
The Darkness - Conquest: Kerin-Curan
Darkness - Traditional: Glaïmbar Bokkadsson
Age of Dragons: Endras Amlugon

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post #43 of 52 (permalink) Old 08-13-12, 04:15 PM
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Walking silently down the corridors passing witch-light torches that Elizabeth Von Drakenblood had left down Nuso starts questioning why an Old Blood of the Lahmian line would be here with a Blood Dragon. I can not see why except maybe for protection against a massed attack but if that has happened then she has let her enemies discover her. I wouldn't enjoy being around someone who must prove his supeiority against everyone instead of changing the course of events to ensure that never has to happen. It could be they are in love but that would be a bit unusual for a Lahmian in that it would cloud her judgement. Coming out of her thoughts Nuso sees a staircase leading to a tower in front of her. Inhaling deepy through her nose Nuso picks up perfume in the air and surmising that it belongs to Elzabeth ascends the stairs.

Reaching a door at the height Nuso knocks quitely before entering after a moments pause. Stepping into the room Nuso immediately bowed to Elizabeth but made no other move except to close the door behind her. Looking at Elizabeth Nuso sees she is talking to a child, though this "child" reeks of undeath and magical prowess suggesting he icrarchs one of the Necarch bloodline. To turn one so young though is another matter entirely. What was his master thinking when they turned him? That could not be very healthy for his psyche but then again Necarchs have never been widely known for stable psyche's. Nuso thinks to hjerself before looking over the room seeing Natasha sit on massive king-sized bed with two sisters who are watching Elizabeth while Natasha watches her very carefully. Bowing to Elizabeth again Nuso also curtsies to those on the bed while maintaining her silence.

So we have fellow Lahmians here as well as Blood Dragons and Necarchs. This has suddenly turned into a very interesting series of events provided that the Blood Dragons do not make stupid moves just for the sake of slighted honor before or during the battles ahead and the Necrarch keeps his mind on the task at hand and not his next test or experiment. Though from what I've seen these Blood Dragons have an almost unsaitaible appetite for combat and the more we sit here the more aggresive they become and the les restrained as well.Though this is my first time seeing a Nerarch they have an unsavory reputation as insane creators and delvers of magic. Though his creations will surely help in battles is it worth having him as an ally for now only to find out that he wishes to resurect Nagash and punish those who had fled?

Focusing on movement Nuso sees that Natasha has gotten off the bed and is approaching her with a smile playing over her face before saying, “Well cousin, you seem to have found my lady’s chambers by yourself with little difficulty. Please tell me, what do you think of my lady’s chamber and what brings you here? The entertainment I set up in the great hall not enough for you?”

Quickly thinking about her answer Nuso quitely responds so as to not distract Elizabeth, "These furninshings are very tasteful though not excatly to my liking. The plainer the designs are commonly more refreshing to me than the more artistic and flowery though this is possibly due to my time as a mortal and in time I think I will enjoy these more. But as to the entertainement you arranged, well I find one can stomach only so much posturing and chest thrusting before it becomes boring. Though you'r own display was one of particular interest those between Blood Dragons often end in one or the other bleeding profusely and long lines of hatred.

"Loyalty is its own reward."
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post #44 of 52 (permalink) Old 08-25-12, 09:23 AM
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Hienrick was.....odd, Yakov decided. He seemed dedicated to his fathers cause, and yet still took the time to prevent his brothers arrogance leading him into a fight which would only get him injured.

Yakov was irritated when Hienrick turned from besting his younger brother, and proceeded to act as though he was Yakov’s better, making out that he had to make excuses of the actions he had taken. Yakov spoke up, when Hienrick spoke of being a guest, “This was the reason I took so much offence to Gaelen’s insults and demands. Had I just walked in from the forest without an invite, his actions would have been perfectly reasonable. However I was at the invitation of your father, and so his actions were unjustified.”

His expectations of Hienrick rose when he showed the respect that was due to someone as old as he, however he understood the barley hidden threat, that he would be “revoked” of his guest status if he stepped out of line again.
As Hienrick walked away, Yakov remembered something he had said, “kept our bloodlines from uniting as one”. This made him hopeful that Mordred was sympathetic towards the outcast bloodlines, and wished to join them together against the prey. “maybe one day”, Yakov murmured, however it would be and uphill battle, as the hate for the Stigoi bloodlines, that ran through most of the other bloodlines.

Yakov reached down and picked up the bone he had previously been gnawing on, and broke it with a loud crack, then he crouched back onto his haunches and began to eat the marrow that was left inside the bone.

Suddenly a winged vampire crashed through one of the more ornate windows of the hall and crashed to the ground. Within a second Ulrich was by his side and his sword was drawn. However before he would strike the other shouted “We are attacked! The elves move against us! We are attacked!”
And threw an arrow, that Yakov guessed was of elvish origin across the floor. In a daze Yakov started to stand, stunned that the Elves would dare to attack a gathering of vampries.
"To arms!" Ulrich roared, "It is time for you to fulfill the call you have come to answer. Defend this castle! To Arms! We feast on the blood of the Asrai!"

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post #45 of 52 (permalink) Old 09-08-12, 02:40 PM Thread Starter
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Markus: Upon entering the great hall and giving voice to your question you blink several times before looking around to see that the great hall is completely empty and that the two great doors of the main entrance have been pushed open which leads you to assume all the others are already gathering upon the walls. Striding outside you see that the Von Drakenblood gets have gathered together in a group and are looking south as the Strigoi perch high up on towers looking south towards where the elves will be coming from. Standing apart from the Von Drakenblood’s are two Lahmians who seem to watch the others with mild interest as the Von Carstien’s pace back and forth waiting to show off their skills to all those around. Though while there are brother Von Carstien’s here you decide to stand apart from them closer to the Blood Dragons as while you are formidable in combat it can’t help to be near some truly brutal fighters should you find yourself in the unlikely situation of being overwhelmed by the army of elves on the way.

Yakov: Dropping the bone onto the ground you swiftly move from the great hall out of the great doors and off towards the southern ramparts which face towards the great forest which is home to the wood elves. Ascending the stairs to the gate house you see that some of the other vampires have already gathered ontop of the walls as from deep within the dungeons, catacombs and other wings of the castle the undead minions of Mordred also make their way onto the walls and start to form up ready to defend the castle from intruders. Climbing up onto one of the gate house towers you look out towards the forest and see the elven host making its way towards the castle and can see the forms of lithe dryads, lumbering tree-men and tree-kin along with the soaring forms of great eagles. This truly will be an interesting battle as not only will it allow you to feast on the blood of a dying race but also will give you a chance to observe your fellow vampires in battle to pick out any weakness’s incase you need to fight them later on.

Ezekiel: Sat in the library reading over books and tomes almost as old as you your thoughts drift to the past thinking over your hundreds of years unlife and wonder if you should set yourself some greater goal that you can achieve but before you can think too deeply on the matter you are rudely interrupted by one of the castle’s human thralls who runs into the room breathless and panting before sketching a quick bow to you. “My Lord, you are required on the walls as the elves of the forest have come to attack the castle. Other servants have already prepared your armour within a chamber joined to the great hall and will aid you in putting it on if you require.” With that the thrall bows before taking his leave before he see’s a fang filled smile flash across your aristocratic features at the prospect of drawing and feasting on the blood of the elves as you have heard it is as fine as wine. Sweeping from the library to the great hall and your arming room you see large groups of heavily armoured skeleton warriors appearing from other passages around the castle and making their way towards the wall. Truly this battle will be very interesting and give you a chance to see Mordred in battle.

Ulric: and Gaelan: While the two of you are barely unable to stand each others presence you find yourself walking together as you leave the great hall and are joined by Hienrick is matches your speed and stride lengths giving the other vampires and impressive display of the three oldest and strongest of Mordred’s ‘Sons’ as you head to the southern rampart where you can clearly see the skeleton warriors already gather and Mordred and Radu make their way from the eastern rampart to the southern one. As you walk together it is Hienrick who breaks the uneasy silence between the three of you, “The elves once again seek to test their strength against our father and remove him from his own castle. Did you both know they tried this once before over three hundred years ago before out father turned Ulric? Back then Father stood infront of the gate house with his sword planted in the ground before him daring them to come and kill him. Naturally they were repulsed and their corpses used to rebuild fathers army, im pretty sure some of these skeletons were once some of the Asrai.” Hienrick shrugs his shoulders then looks up at the sky. “We have just over nine hours before the sun rises and we are forced back inside the confines of the castle’s keep, we will need to make this battle bloody and short, will you stand with me brothers?”

Natasha: and Nuso: As the two of you converse with each other Lady Elizabeth talks with her Necrach guest in tones that both of you two are barely able to hear even with your enhanced hearing, moving to take a seat at the side of the room you both notice Elizabeth’s back straighten and tense as she stares directly ahead and into seemingly nothingness before speaking for all in the room to hear. “Powerful magic gathers to the south and those of the forest seek to oust us from this castle like they tried to three hundred years ago. The elves moves against us Natasha, Nuso, make your way to the southern rampart where my husband and his sons, and the others gather to prepare to defend the castle. I shall be with you shortly as I have some surprises to prepare for the elves.” With that prompt dismissal you both make your way to the southern ramparts in relative silence and while you make your way through the great hall you see that it is completely empty before stepping out of the great doors that make up the main entrance and see the might of the Von Drakenblood’s gathered.

Radu: OOC: you still need to post from the previous update, I would suggest doing so while also including the Everyone part from this update aswell.

Alexander: Before Tyreal continues his onslaught something draws your attention and his to the sky as you see a massive misshapen vampire crash through one of the stain class windows of the great hall which elects an annoyed grunt from Tyreal. While you both wonder what is doing on you hear the vampire roar that the elves are attacking and you see that with great restraint Tyreal sheaths his blade and makes his way over to the edge of the wall and peers off towards the forest before his growling voice reaches your eyes. “The tainted one is right Strigoi-Dog the elves are on their way and in great numbers for their dying race. We will postpone our fight for a later time.” With that and the swirl of his black cape Tyreal turns away and heads off along the rampart towards where Mordred Von Drakenblood is walking with one of the Von Carstien whelps. Annoyance flares through your mind in that Tyreal can just so casually dismiss your fight in favor of a greater battle and that he will not be punished for his aggressiveness towards you just yet but not the promise of Elf Blood races through your mind and decide that dealing with Tyreal can wait until later as accidents do happen in battle.

Klaus: OOC: you still need to post from the previous update, I would suggest doing so while also including the Everyone part from this update aswell.

Khalidel: Before you and Klaus can continue your spar the Von Drakenblood called Markus comes crashing for a very old stain glass window before bellowing that the castle is under attack by the wood elves that dwell in the forest near the castle before producing evidence to support his claim by pulling an elven arrow from his lower ribs and throwing it onto the ground which then provokes Gaelen and Ulric bellowing that all the vampires gathered should head to the walls and prepare to feast on the blood of the Asrai which in turn elects a smile from you as now you have opponents who you can truly test your skill against without having to hold back like you do when you spar with other vampires. Following your three older brothers (Gaelen, Ulric and Hienrick) from the hall you make your way onto the southern rampart and see that your ‘father’ is still walking along the wall with the Von Carstien which makes you bristle with anger that Mordred favors one not of his blood line over you, perhaps at some point you should teach Radu his place in the pecking order?

Everyone: Having made your wall to the castles walls you now look out across the plains between the castle and the forest to its south taking in the entire elven army that has come to try and put a stop to the Crusade of Blood before it has even begun. From your vantage point you can pick out the forms of Treeman, Dryads, Great Eagles, Great Stags and other forms of woodland creatures but the majority of the host is made up of elven warriors carrying bows and blades though you wonder how exactly they plan on getting into the castle which now has its ‘defenders’ upon its walls. Looking around you see that the Lord and Lady Von Drakenblood have called forth the undead warriors from the catacombs beneath the castle and they stand in unmoving ranks upon the walls and in the courtyard awaiting orders from their undead masters.

As you observe the elven host before their attack you have some time to reflect on bloodshed that will soon begin and give you a chance to gorge yourself on as much elven blood as you wish before the corpses of the elves are raised to fight alongside the hordes of heavily armoured skeletons. In this time you have a chance to converse with your fellow vampires or even shout insults and challenges at the assembled elves who now stand perfectly still as the lumbering Treemen make their way to the fore carrying gigantic boulders in their wood fists before they start to hurl the boulders towards the walls and the castle’s gate as they try to make an entrance for their elven allies.

As the Treemen pelt the castle with their stony projectiles you and the other vampires stand as still as statues watching the elven army and tense ready for a fight as you will them to come within the reach of your blades so you may shed their blood, should you look around you will notice that a heavily and ornately armoured skeleton has come forward to stand by Mordred with a banner in his hand and those of you within ten strides of the banner(it is up to you where you are stood) sense the flow of magic coming from this banner and you find your senses have become keener than they usually arm. Those of you who are of the Von Drakenblood line or have served with Mordred before know that this is the Von Drakenblood standard, the black cloth has on its front a snarling red dragon coiled around a silver sword with its blood running down the blade and to be caught in a golden goblet. It is said the banner was soaked in the blood of a hundred virgins and sorcerer’s to give many potent enchantments.

With a deafening doom that irritates your Vampiric heading you see that the massive metallic gate house doors have been broken open by a bolder several feet taller than the monstrous Ulric Von Drakenblood and now that there is a way into the castle the elven host charge forward giving voice to their elven war cries. It is up to you if you remain ontop of the walls as more boulders crash onto the ramparts crushing skeletons and ghouls before bouncing off into the courtyard or if you make your way down to the gate and prepare to meet the elves within the courtyard.

Those of you that remain on the walls find that the Great Eagles are now swooping down towards the battlements allowing elven warriors upon their backs to nimbly jumps off and onto the ramparts where they loose already notched arrows or draw their blades and charge into groups of skeletons while their flying mounts pick up the undead warriors and carry them off back towards the main host to drop them from the sky and then pick up even more warriors. Now that the battle has finally begun you charge towards the nearest group of elven warriors with your weapon draw ready to slaughter those who seek to challenge the rule of the Arisen.

Those of you now in the courtyard Having left the ramparts to head down into the main courtyard you look back up to see that the elven warriors mounted upon Great Eagles have finally begun their assault but before you can turn around and make your way back up the stairs and onto the walls you hearing the screeching cries of Dryads as they come running through the gate house in their war aspect, looking vaguely female in appearance but made of rotting wooden branches and logs as they charge towards you and the skeletons at your back before the Dryads are then followed by mounted elven warriors upon elven steeds and Great Stags, it seems those upon the walls will not be having all the fun.

OOC: Now that the battle has begun you can kill those opponents who are close to you, as I said it is your choice if you are now upon the walls or are in the courtyard so pick where you are and what you are fighting, remember you can kill as many people as you have attacks as at the moment these are all one wound opponents so you can 1 shot them though I suggest you make your attacks, wounds and deaths descriptive. Once I know where you are in the castle I will then be bringing in multi-wound opponents for you to fight, then the battle will begin in Earnest, If you plan on casting spell pm me before you post so I can tell you if you pass, fail, are dispelled etc. Below is the list of characters and how many attacks you have:

Markus: 5 Attacks
Yakov: 8 Attacks
Ezekiel: 7 Attacks
Ulric: 8 Attacks
Gaelan: 7 Attacks
Natasha: 6 Attacks
Nuso: 5 Attacks
Radu: 7 Attacks
Alexander: 9 Attacks
Klaus: 6 Attacks
Khalidel: 6(7) Attacks (7=if using 2 hand weapons).
Vardask: 6 Attacks.

Any questions then feel free to post in recruitment or pm me.

Last edited by revan4559; 09-08-12 at 02:48 PM.
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post #46 of 52 (permalink) Old 09-08-12, 03:45 PM
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An unearthly roar echoed across the battlefield, causing the briefest quell in the sound of battle. Huge, leathery wings made great rushing sounds as a massive shape crested the treeline, approaching the castle at speed. It came from the rear, the single flying black shape in antithesis to the multiple Eagles assaulting the fortress. Except this being was far more dangerous than an Eagle.

Vardask, the almighty Strigoi Oldblood, thundered over the walls, giving a second roar as he swooped into the courtyard. The blood-hungry vampire snatched an elven trooper from the floor, turning sharply upwards before wrenching the elf's heart from its body, Vardask's massive arm tearing flesh from the warrior's chest in the blink of an eye. Coiled muscles bulged all over the vampire, his pallid-white flesh sickening to look upon. The vampire's bestial face opened as he consumed the still-beating heart, red blood spattering onto his naked chest.

The Strigoi dived again, plummeting to the ground with an earth-shaking warcry. Elven warriors tried to surround the vampire, but he moved like lightning, his powerful arms slashing out as his talons tore through armour, flesh, and bone alike. Vardask dimly registered arrows impacting onto his unarmoured body, ripping them out as his flesh healed instantly, dark energy playing across his skin as he regenerated. Vardask noticed the smallest lull in the fighting, before realising that five dismembered corpses lay around him, the sixth having fallen on the ramparts when he dropped it to dive into the courtyard. The Oldblood chuckled, the laugh turning into a deep, grating rumble.

"Hear me, allies of House Von Drakenblood!" roared Vardask, making use of the moment of respite. "I am Vardask, Strigoi Oldblood, and I pledge myself to your Crusade of Blood!"
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post #47 of 52 (permalink) Old 09-08-12, 07:06 PM
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Markus was making last minute adjustments to his armour, ensuring it was tight and yet comfortable, when he voiced his question, and it took him a few seconds to realise he was alone in the great hall. A low growl emanated from his throat, and he shook his head. ‘Damned Ulrich wanting to take all the glory,’ he thought to himself. He saw the night sky streaming in through the open double doors of the great hall, and he grinned; the smile of a predator breaking through onto an otherwise human face. Once again striding outside, the smells of life assaulting his nose, he snorted slightly, determined soon that it would be the charnel stench of death, blood and gore that would be impossible to ignore.

He looked up, and saw the von Drakenbloods gathered on the walls, ranks of long-dead, skeletal soldiers with them, and the Strigoi on towers high above, all southward-facing. The two figures that really interested the vampire were the Lahmians, who, with a look of interest that was bordering on clinical detachment in his mind. The ones he had been in the library with earlier were also present, pacing fruitlessly. ‘It does not do to waste energy,’ he told himself sarcastically, the energy from the two slaves he had just drained flowing easily through his veins. He climbed slowly to the rampart level, taking in the atmosphere and feeling a thrill of excitement. The undead son of Altdorf never felt more alive than when he was fighting and and awaiting it. He stood on his own, between those he felt a primal bind with and the pups of Lord von Drakenblood. ‘Not that I shall require the aid of any,’ he told himself sternly. ‘Especially Ulrich. I just want to see how he fights.’ Even thinking the name caused a growl to rumble in his throat, and he twitched his neck to cut it off, as if he was fighting an internal daemon.

Finally facing forwards he saw the army of Asrai that had gathered, determined to sweep away the lords of night, and it caused him to raise an eye. ‘They must have planned this long ago,’ he thought, reasoning that so many elves couldn’t have gathered in a short time. He focussed his enhanced eyesight on the more incredible creatures that marched alongside the Asrai; the huge, gnarled trunks of treemen; one with a patch of bark missing from one of it’s legs, and smaller, humanoid-treelike forms, vicious-looking and adorned with skulls and rib cages. He heard a screech above, the sound piercing to his ears. A scowl crossed his face as he looked up and saw the eagles wheeling. He longed again for the feel of wind flowing under his wings, to ride the thermals, and his arms began to morph, pain lancing up them as the armour restricted their growth. Only just able to control it, he turned his attention back to the approaching army.

The bloodlust was rising, and he was becoming more and more restless, determined to get into the fight as quickly as possible, and he found his sword was in his hand, despite not remembering drawing it. Markus rested the tip of the blade on the floor of the battlement, wrapping his hands around the hilt, and looked out over the approaching army with a look of superiority and smugness. ‘Oh, if they only knew what it felt like to be us,’ he told himself with a sigh, and then closed his eyes. An imagined taste filled his mouth, the sweet tang of elven blood a memory that he couldn’t wait to renew. Eyes opening, he saw how much distance the enemy had closed, and he appreciated their speed and the fluidity of the elven movements, ‘Still, they are but cattle.’ Almost uniformly, the elves stopped, and boulders, launched from the immensely powerful arms of treemen, collided with the stone, but the ancient architecture seemed to be up to the challenge. “Or so we can but hope,” he muttered, casting suspicious eyes over the battlements around his feet, almost convinced it would collapse beneath him.

Movement further along the line, where Mordred himself, the only male von Drakenblood that Markus felt cowed by, drew his eyes, and he twisted his head slightly to observe the approach of the ornately-armoured skeleton, and the intricately sewn banner it carried. He shook his head and focussed once more on the approaching army, thinking it was foolish to replace a blade with a banner. “Brilliant as a weapon,” he muttered sourly, before giving one of the skeletons beside him a glance, seeing the thin veins of magic holding them together, “Not much better with a blade ...” The huge stones continued to crash against the wall, and as one impacted under where Markus stood, it drew his attention back to the army before him. Another boulder hit, shattered on the castle wall, and a chip flew up and scratched his armour. He frowned at the damage, before tracking the trajectory back to the bark-encased spirit who’d thrown it, and murmured, “You’re mine,” his voice slow and malevolent, thick with anger. His vision seemed to tunnel, and only the terrible, ear-piercing scream of metal contorting under the immense force of a truly huge boulder brought him back to his senses.

In less than a second, he decided to move, to position himself before the hole in von Drakenblood’s defences, and he spun about, roughly pushing past skeletons and then leaping down the stairs, landing lightly despite the weight of his armour, fist still clenched around the hilt of his sword, which he brandished like a child does a stick. He took an unnecessary breath, a throw-back to his days as fighting as a human, and swung his shield off of his back to his left arm, adjusting the weight slightly so it sat more comfortably, and held his blade ready, awaiting the first enemies that dared try his wrath. He gazed out of the broken gates, and it was akin to looking through a portal to another world - the elves moved behind dryads; a wall of living wood, devoid of the sweet nectar Markus desired, obscuring the true prize. “Cowards.”

Another screech drew his gaze skywards, and he saw the eagles diving and delivering elves directly onto the walls, elves seemingly effortlessly stepping from their winged mounts onto the ramparts, or executing perfect leaping backflips, bows drawn, and firing as they landed. He growled, about to run back up the stairs, and then the dryads began their own assault. “Finally.” The word was almost spat at the oncoming wave of bark, and he spied eyes that hinted at a hint of madness in the soul within.

He stepped forward, spinning his sword once to gain some momentum, and then started to close the distance between himself and the spirits that aided the Asrai. Markus started to gather the winds of magic to himself, smiling grimly as he felt it wrap around him like a burial shroud, the dark pulse of necromantic magic yielding to his indomitable will, but, when he started muttering in the language of the Great Necromancer himself, ancient Nehekharan, to bring down the gaze of Nagash himself on his enemies, the control slipped away, like water through cupped fingers, and he found himself scrabbling to retain control of it even as felt, somewhere deep in the enemy ranks, a wizard defy his grasp on the magic, countering with his own spells and drawing the magic to himself.

Angered even beyond what Ulrich had managed to achieve, Markus howled, the sound animalistic, and his eyes looked crazed below the rim of his helmet; his fangs sliced into the soft flesh of his lips, and rivulets of blood started to trickle down his chin. Despite it looking like he’d lost control of his senses, the vampire was evaluating everything and, when he struck the line of dryads, Markus blocked the scrabbling, wooden claws of a dryad and countered with his blade, driving the black metal through it’s chest, and twisting his wrist sharply, the creature had deep tears through it’s body, running from the central wound, and it screeched as the life left it. Before it’s body was on the floor, he was moving again, spinning around and blocking more attacks. The feel of an arrow slamming into his shoulder spun him a bit further, and he snapped it off using the side of his shield, the point still buried within his armour, and allowed the momentum to feed through into his sword, the blade whistling with speed as it travelled, and sliced easily through the dryad’s neck. Life left the wood and the head hit the stone floor with a hollow thud. Eyes moving quickly, he saw he was through the thin dryad lines and he now faced elves, fighting with short blades and tracing movements with drawn bows. He danced to the side and an arrow sang past him, sinking deep into the skull of a skeletal warrior behind him, before he launched himself forward and grabbed a female elf, pulling her to his chest and tearing her throat out, blocking a sword blow as he did so, before he dropped the twitching body, whose clothes were even then so saturated with the crimson life-blood that it was starting to pool and slide slowly, almost malevolently, down her neck to the ground. A skeletal warrior moved between him and his next target, and struck, knocking the elven form to the ground, before a blade was driven through it’s sternum, severing vital strands of magic, and it collapsed, the brittle, hollow bones tinkling and shattering as they impacted on the stone-covered ground. Reversing his grip on the hilt of his sword, and grasping it with both hands, drove it down hard, puncturing armour, skin and organs, blood oozing from the wound and dripping from his sword mesmerically when he withdrew it.

Malochai von Carstein; Terror of Hunger Wood, Lord of Lichenhof Tower

Roleplay Characters
The Darkness - Conquest: Kerin-Curan
Darkness - Traditional: Glaïmbar Bokkadsson
Age of Dragons: Endras Amlugon

Last edited by Malochai; 09-09-12 at 01:24 PM.
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post #48 of 52 (permalink) Old 09-10-12, 09:50 PM
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Before Tyreal could come at Alexander again a shape caught the pair’s attention. Flying through the sky towards the castle Alexander could make out the shape of a massive misshapen vampire. Tyreal grunted in annoyance as, with a mighty crash, the vampire smashed its way through a large stain-glass window. Although Alexander was unsure of what was going on within the room the vampire had entered he heard a voice drift through the night air to his sensitive hearing.

"We are attacked! The Elves move against us! We are attacked!"

Alexander tensed as he watched Tyreal sheath his blades and turn his back to look over the battlements and into the forest below. Alexander paused; his fist raised and watched carefully as Tyreal spoke in that high and mighty voice of his.

“The tainted one is right Strigoi-Dog the elves are on their way and in great numbers for their dying race. We will postpone our fight for a later time.”

With that and the swirl of his black cape Tyreal turned away and headed off along the rampart towards where Mordred Von Drakenblood is walking with one of the Von Carstien whelps. Alexander clenched his fists and bared his teeth, his fangs elongating as rage coursed through his mind. Who did this vampire think he was? Alexander didn’t care who his father was, no-one had the right to dismiss a fight with him so easily. Alexander tilted his head back and roared in anger before shouting after Tyreal.

“This isn’t over Tyreal. I will take your head. Be it in single combat or the heat of battle my blades will take your life!”

The only thing that prevented Alexander from charging Tyreal there and then was the promise of Asrai blood being spilled. With a final glare after the vampire Tyreal turned and launched himself over the battlements. Catching himself on a parapet Alexander paused and looked around him. Seeing that the others were gathering around Mordred upon the walls of the castle Alexander moved to join them.

Climbing quickly up the castle wall Alexander soon reached the roofs where he made quick progress till he arrived above Mordred. Dropping down Alexander caught himself on a drainpipe and hung there, watching the other vampires arrive. Raising his eyes to look across the plains before the castle Alexander couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face as he saw the entire Elf host spread before him. Treemen, Dryads, Great Eagles and all manner of other woodland creatures fighting alongside Elf warriors. This is turning into a good night.

Alexander could see the ranks of undead soldiers, summoned by Lord and Lady Von Drakenblood, standing in perfect order to defend the castle. But Alexander knew that the skeletons could not be allowed all the fun, his blades craved blood almost as much as he and they both must be satisfied tonight.
Alexander watched carefully as the Treemen lumbered past their Elven allies and moved to the front of the army. The Treemen all hold huge boulders in their wooden, gnarled hands and before long they draw back their arms and hurl their missiles towards the castle. Alexander watched, relaxed, as the boulders sailed through the air. One by one they crash against the mighty stone of the walls and the age-old timber of the castle gates.

Alexander licked his lips and flexed his muscles, anticipating the rivers of blood he would spill that night. Sparing a brief glance around the other assembled vampires Alexander saw that, like him, they were standing still, their eyes turned towards the Elf army. He smiled. They would all take a terrible toll on the already dying race.

Alexander’s eyes were drawn to an ornately armoured skeleton that had arrived to stand beside Mordred. In his bony hands was held an impressive standard, the black cloth has on its front a snarling red dragon coiled around a silver sword with its blood running down the blade and to be caught in a golden goblet. Alexander knew this to be, from legend, the Von Drakenblood standard. It is said the banner was soaked in the blood of a hundred virgins and sorcerer’s to give many potent enchantments. But Alexander has never had any interest in the magical arts that others of his kind practiced. He had no time for spells and magic.

A deafening crash shot like a lance of pain through Alexander’s supernatural hearing. Turning quickly, his teeth bared and eyes glowing Alexander growled as he saw the wreckage of the castle gates strewn across the courtyard. A huge boulder lies in the twisted metal and shattered wood.

Alexander’s keen hearing was drawn again, this time by the cries of the Elven army as, now with a way into the castle, surged forward across the plains. Alexander smiled and dropped from his hanging place. Landing heavily on the ground Alexander looked upwards as a high pitched screech drew his attention to the waves of Great Eagles swooping down towards the castle.

More boulders crashed into the walls, scattering undead warrior’s aside, as Alexander rose to his frightening full height. He raised his eyes to the Great Eagles and could make out the figures of Elf Warriors riding upon the backs of their trusted bird allies. Even as he watched them arrows flew through the air, each claiming an undead life. Alexander had to admit that, prey they may be, they were damn good shots.

It was then that the first Elf warrior leapt from his bird and landed upon the walls. Seeing Alexander standing tall the Elf loosed an arrow towards the Strigoi. The arrow embedded itself into Alexander’s armour. With a roar of rage Alexander turned to his assailant, his fangs bared. Wrenching the arrow from his armour Alexander charged towards the Elf even as they notched another arrow. But before he could fire Alexander’s blades where out and with a powerful thrust the Elf could only look in disbelief at the blades piercing his chest. The Elf looked up into Alexander’s face in time to see him lean forward and sink his fangs into the Elf’s flesh.

Pulling back from his meal, blood dribbling down his chin Alexander smiled. Now that his thirst was less sharp he could really concentrate on killing. Dropping the body to the floor Alexander withdrew his blades with a flourish and turned towards the battle raging upon the walls. Tilting back his head and roaring Alexander paused for a second, his eyes flicking left and right, before charging towards the ramparts. Without even pausing Alexander swung his blades and the head of an Elf fell to the floor. With a final roar Alexander threw himself of the edge of the walls.

Just as he had judged Alexander landed heavily upon the back of a Great Eagle, which fell for a few seconds with the new weight before climbing slowly again. His first strike drove one of his blades deep into the chest of an Elf. His second slit the throat of the second. And his third strike sliced the chest of the third and final Elf. Turning once more he drove his sword into the neck of the Great Eagle before leaping once more into the air. Landing upon another Eagle Alexander paused only to cut the wing of the Eagle before somersaulting backwards off the plummeting bird and landing once more upon the castle walls.

Not even a second after landing upon the walls Alexander turned and threw his blade across the battle. With a sickening thud the sword impaled an Elf with his bow drawn who fell to the floor. Charging towards his sword a solo elf stepped into his path, his spear levelled at the charging vampire. Not stopping his run
Alexander grasped the shaft of the spear and drove it forward into the stomach of the Elf. As the Elf doubled over in pain Alexander broke his neck before reaching his embedded blade and pulling it free. Turning back to the battle Alexander smiled and ran his tongue along the blade of his bloody sword.



The Silent Lions Chapter

Winter Falls

Darkness

Give a man a match and he will be warm for a day.
Set a man on fire and he will be warm for the rest of his life.

Last edited by Romero's Own; 09-11-12 at 04:00 PM.
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post #49 of 52 (permalink) Old 10-24-12, 09:07 PM
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Khalidel saluted Klaus as the call to arms sounded. "It seems that we are attacked sir knight, I highly enjoyed this bout but for now it seems we must see to these foolish attackers" He turned and ran for the battlements racing ahead of his 'brothers' but was brought up short when he saw that Radu was walking beside Mordred, more at ease in each other’s presence than Khalidel had ever been with Mordred. Disgust curled Khalidels face into a sneer but he quickly turned it into an arrogant grin as he went and stood on Mordreds opposite side.
"What forces assail us?" Khalidel deliberately left out any title but looked out over the walls to see the army arranged before the castle and shivered with the anticipated bloodshed. He turned to see Mordreds banner as he realised that he was not the only one visibly relishing the approaching battle, Khalidel looked away from the banner as the first boulder impacted the gate. Drawing his sword Khalidel stepped up onto the ramparts and bared his fangs.
"Come on then you fools!" He roared as he held his sword above his head "My blade and I thirst for your blood!" as the gates crashed down and the eagles swooped in Khalidel turned back to the assembled vampires and bowed mockingly “Well brothers there seems to be someone at the gates, shall we go and greet them?” without waiting for an answer Khalidel leapt from the battlements. As he fell he raised his sword above his head in a two-handed grip. He smashed down onto the back of a great eagle as his sword plunged vertically down through the spine of the elf rider, the eagle struggled under the weight of Khalidels armoured form and began to fall. Khalidel waited until it was nearly at ground level before leaping into the courtyard, crashing down onto the shoulders of a dryad splintering it into a thousand pieces. He snarled and threw himself forwards through the ranks of dryads whirling and slashing as he went with his sword and dagger lashing out with bloody mayhem, one dryad he decapitated with a flourish while another impaled itself on his outstretched dagger, Khalidel parried an outstretched claw and then kicked his foot into the offending creature shattering it to kindling. As he looked around him he noticed that he had been joined by some of the other vampires and smiled at the destruction they were wreaking. He span around to face an oncoming elven rider as he bore down on Khalidel who dropped into a crouch. Just as the spear was about to impale his heart he grabbed it in his left hand and wrenched it forwards dragging the unfortunate elf off of his mount and onto Khalidels outstretched sword, as the elf died Khalidel drew him closer until they were only inches apart. “You have failed here little elf” He hissed “The Crusade shall wipe this pitiful army from the face of the world!” with that he lunged forwards with his fangs and tore out the elf’s throat.
Finding himself at a lull in the combat Khalidel raised the still twitching corpse above his head and cried “This is the fate that awaits each and every one of you!” He threw the corpse at the other elf riders and looked around for more challenging foes.

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chill out?...CHILL OUT!!!!!!!, THIS IS WARHAMMER, THERE IS NO TIME FOR "CHILLING OUT", WHAT DO YOU THINK THIS IS?, SOME KIND OF GAME?, THIS ARE SERIOUS BUSINESS!!!!
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post #50 of 52 (permalink) Old 10-27-12, 01:46 PM
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Despite my loathing of him I found myself walking besides Ulric’s towering form as we left the great hall. The silence was palpable, the loathing between us so obvious to those with the eyes to see us and the intelligence to process our stances that one would be surprised that one of us was not already dead. But alas, the blood called. And when my father played, even kings danced to his tune.

Hienrick joined us as we stepped through the doors, matching our stride and speed. It must have been an impressive sight. Alone, we would fail. But when the Sons of Mordred stood as one even Emperor’s need feel fear. Then though, standing together would be folly for my hatred of Ulric and his of me could only spell death for one or both of us. After all, in battles accidents happen all too frequently. I had been the victim of attempted ‘accidents’ before, particularly when a single Blood Dragon decided he deserved to stand in my place. Having a small talent with illusions he thought the best way to do this would be to kill me and then literally taking my place. He used other vampires to attempt it and thought me dead after a roof collapsed on me.

He learned that von Drakenblood’s are not so easily killed facing the blade of Blood Gold which I then proceeded to drive through the back of his skull.

But enough of the memories, for we had a battle to win.

It was Hienrick who broke the awkward silence between the three of us. “The elves once again seek to test their strength against our father and remove him from his own castle. Did you both know they tried this once before over three hundred years ago before out father turned Ulric? Back then Father stood in front of the gate house with his sword planted in the ground before him daring them to come and kill him. Naturally they were repulsed and their corpses used to rebuild fathers army, I’m pretty sure some of these skeletons were once some of the Asrai.” Hienrick shrugged and looked at the sky. “We have just over nine hours before the sun rises and we are forced back inside the confines of the castle’s keep, we will need to make this battle bloody and short, will you stand with me brothers?”

“I will be with you brother,” I said, my voice clear and strong. Ulric also grunted assent. And so we strode to see the enemy who dared strike against Mordred...
__________________________________________________ ________

The Elves truly were determined to wipe us off the face of the Old World I reflected as I gazed over the swarm that covered the land. Skeletons manned the walls as well as others of my kind and all stared unwaveringly at the Elves. Several Vampires chose that time to hurl insults at the enemy and some spoke with their fellows. I simply stood, taking it all in. I had learnt long before that a warrior has to study every detail, has to be ready for every eventuality. As my gaze switched from the Asrai to the Woodland spirits that had accompanied them my eyes were taking in weaknesses of both the massive lumbering Tree-men and the Dryads. I was utterly still, not even a finger twitched.

Elves had always been arrogant but to attack the very same castle from which they had been repulsed when it was much more crowded with the Aristocracy of the Night, it was foolishness that bards try to hide behind words of heroic sacrifices. I had watched far too many so called ‘heroic’ sacrifices to believe those tales. But still, the Elves were numerous. There would be blood enough for all in the castle to drink of it.

Rocks flew from the hands of Woodland spirits to crash against the ancient walls of my home. The battle it seemed, had begun. A huge stone crashed through the main gates and several Vampires jumped down into the courtyard to fight those who came rushing for the gaping hole in the defences. Eagles landed Asrai warriors on the ramparts and other Vampires ran to greet them. Blood sprayed. I walked calmly to stand atop the gate, drew both swords from my back and howled at the moon.

Then I leapt over the battlements.

My boots hit the dirt just as an Elf warrior was sprinting for the gate. My swords impaled him, one on either side of his spine. I lifted the struggling, screaming Elf and tossed him down. His lifeblood vanished into the soil around his body. Now the dance could begin. It was Wardancers who came for me. Of course it was Wardancers. I would have been insulted had it not been.

I watched the glittering spinning of their blades as they leapt for me. I did not move as they surrounded me. Then one lunged.

It was the last mistake he would ever make.

I swayed aside from the lunge, moving with a speed that made the Wardancers look like old men. They didn’t even have time to blink before the Elf that had lunged was dead, his head rolling on the floor. Another Wardancer cursed in amazement, and then looked down to see Blood Gold reddened tip jutting from his chest. I ripped the blade free and was moving again, just a flicker in the moonlight.

Another Wardancer fell, both blades thrust clean through his torso. I jumped and thrust both feet into his chest, using it as a springboard to leap off and spin in the air.

A female Wardancer took the opportunity to lunge at my belly and my flickering right hand hit her blade and snapped it. I gripped the shard and as I landed turned and threw it at another Wardancer. Now there was a truly skilled warrior that knocked the spinning shard of metal out of the air. He attacked, all ferocity and speed so that he too was a blur. I dodged most of the blows and blocked the rest with my vambraces. Then I sprang into a backwards flip, kicking him in the chest to give myself extra speed. As I flipped I reached down and grasped the hilts of my swords that were still embedded in the chest of a dead Wardancer.

As I came up one of my swords was already rising, held loosely in my left hand.

The Elf brought his blade down, expecting resistance that he could use to propel himself round into a gut opening slash but instead the sword slipped freely from my hand and his sword over swung. He was already recovering, already beginning to twist away but he was far too slow. Blood Gold took him clean in the chest. It was a merciful death, a mark of respect from one warrior to another.

Evidently the female Elf whose sword I had broken didn’t think of it as such. She ran to the falling Elf screaming that he was her father. As she caught him another Wardancer came at me. His swords flashed furiously in the moon light, a dazzling combination of moves that nonetheless proved pointless as Blood Gold half severed his head.

The Elf crying over her father’s corpse rose and charged me. I threw Blood Gold down, the point sinking into the dirt and knocked aside her swords. My touch as I cradled her head was almost gentle before I pulled her into an embrace and sank my fangs into her neck. I drank deep of Elven blood and felt its strength permeate my veins.

I dropped her lifeless body to the floor and retrieved my swords before plunging back into the chaos...

We stand upon the precipice of change. The world fears the inevitable plummet into the abyss. Watch for that moment - and when it comes, do not hesitate to leap. It is only when you fall that you learn whether you can fly.
— Flemeth

The greatest trick the Devil ever pulled was convincing the world he didn't exist.

Last edited by Santaire; 10-28-12 at 07:48 PM.
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