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Aug. 31st, 2010 09:29 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
myriadbeautifulIn the dark lands of Morytania, the clouds part only at night. This is only done as a favor to the werewolves, or perhaps to taunt them. In Canifis they bay at the moon, thankful that their master has allowed them to see the sky.
Two pairs of great leathery wings beat in the moonlight, laboring to carry a third eastward.
In a sheet carried between two of the strongest vyrewatch patrol fliers that could be found on short notice was a third, his back, wings, and face burned as if he had been dragged out into the harsh, direct unfiltered sunlight of the southern desert. That such a thing could happen on a perfectly overcast day was disturbing. What's worse was the lack of psychic activity in the area, save for the ghouls, constantly hungry, and the confusing mental imagery coming off the injured vyrewatch. The images provided some clue why there was so much ozone in the air.
Eastward, eastward, they carried their load. The odd details of this vyrewatch's injuries reached Lord Drakan's attention, so eastward they flew, to the great gateless walls of Meiyerditch and Castle Drakan.
On the grounds of Castle Drakan awaited Vanstrom Klause and four vyrewatch Elites, watching the skies. But Vanstrom was not only using his eyes to watch. He felt two figures stalking outside the city walls, where they should not be. Out of place.
Typical.
Two pairs of wings joined the two vyrewatch patrollers carrying their injured comrade eastward.
"Lord Ranis, Lady Vanescula." The patrollers stopped short of a salute, not wanting to drop their cargo.
"What do we have here?" asked Ranis. "It is shaped funny."
"Yes it is," Vanescula said, a finger pressed to her lips. "Who is it?"
"One of our own, injured"
"And why bring him here?" Ranis asked, taking a peek at what the two patrollers where carrying.
The two carrying the injured vyrewatch glanced at each other, then at their fallen comrade. "Lord Klause requested it." Thoughts swam through the air. How much should we tell them?
So, that is what he is up to. That is what he is excited about. As the two carrying their comrade progressed east, Ranis and Vanescula Drakan flew about them like pestering mosquitos.
Do you see anything special?
Ranis, Vanescula, and the vyrewatch patrol landed in the castle's courtyard, coming in as softly the could and leaving the injured vyrewatch on the ground on the sheet he was carried in on. The Drakans were taking a closer look when Lord Klause approached with four elites.
Clearing his throat to get their attention, "So, what brings you two here?"
"Well, we just couldn't help sensing your excitement about this... delivery," Vanescula replied with a slight smile.
"I must be slipping."
"Why do you hide your thoughts from us?" Ranis demanded.
"You know why, it is in my job description. Why do you hide your thoughts from each other? These little games you play endanger the security of Morytania. There are those who would take advantage you, play you against each other, and turn your little sibling rivalry into something that will tear this kingdom apart," Vanstrom replied, voice calm, but with an edge sharpened with anger and concern.
As if on cue, the injured vyrewatch moaned and visions of red hair, red eyes, and fire lashed out at the gathered vampyres.
"Guards!" Vanstrom called out, "Hoods! All of them! Now!"
There was a brief struggle from Ranis and Vanescula before darkness in the form of sacks impregnated with psychic activity inhibiting minerals descended on their heads.
Silence.
Footsteps echoed as Vanstrom Klause and his four elites, now joined by two other guards, marched five hooded figures through the countless corridors, magical barriers, and portals of Castle Drakan. Or perhaps not. Even though Ranis and Vanescula's had centuries to become familiar with the the layout of the place they were unsure that they where even in the castle anymore. Portals complicated things.
All the while, the mumbling and moaning from the injured vyrewatch steadily increased. When the echoes seemed to fill a room much much larger than the corridors, the march stopped.
"Ranis? Vanescula? Klause! What are they doing here?" The voice of Lord Lowerniel Vergidiyad Drakan, Regent of the Sanguine Fields, thundered through the chamber, demanding an answer.
"My Lord," started Vanstrom, "they intercepted the delivery. I didn't want to take the risk of the disseminating rumo..."
"Brother!" interjected Vanescula. "Finally we hear your voice in person! Why do you hide from us? Why do you not show your face to your loyal subjects?" She struggled hard against the guard who was charged with keeping the hood over her head. The sounds of Ranis struggling with his guard only emboldened her. There was no way he would be the first to see Lowerniel's face.
They injured vyrewatch suddenly gained coherence and started shouting, "The Destroyer comes! The Destroyer comes! She brings the wrath of her father down upon us! Oh Lord, please hear me! She showed me the Light and it burned and blinded me! Oh Lord, spare us from her hunger!"
"The Destroyer? What is going on Lowerniel?!" Ranis increased his struggles.
"Would you please escort my siblings out of my chambers?"
"Yes, Lord Drakan," responded four of the guards as they began moving Vanescula and Ranis out.
"What is this Lowerniel? If she is training up another army of slayers to come after us, we deserve to know. We deserve to know!" Ranis shouted.
"Slayers..." Vanescula ceased struggling and allowed herself to be guided out, lost in though, all alone in that psychic suppression hood on her head. Sliske's toys and their army fought all the way to Castle Drakan and they had a large company of slayers with them, hardened by the final years of the God Wars. The Morytanian countryside has been lousy with slayers in the last few years. Unorganized and amateurish, yes, but still.
After Ranis and Vanescula were escorted out, Lord Drakan ordered the remaining guards and Vanstrom Klause to unhood the injured vyrewatch and the two that brought him in. They gasped at the combined psychic pressure of Lord Drakan's searching mind and the onslaught of jumbled confused vision and memories from their injured friend. Their friend stood there, his burned, useless wings drooping, mouth agape.
"This makes no sense. Since when does the Devourer bear the power of her father to bring light where there is only darkness?" Lord Drakan mused as he examined the burnt-in hand prints on the injured one's face. "Since when does she have the power to pull lightning from the sky? To cast Killerwatts out of the clouds and dash them to bits upon the earth?" He sorted though the memories of the injured one and of his companions, experienced the smell of ozone, felt the electricity trace a dendritic pattern across the skin. Saw the swamp gas burst into flames. Saw the red hair, the red eyes, the tanned skin. Felt the lack of a psychic presence, the lack of body heat, the lack of mass, the lack of life.
"The Destroyer is powerless! This isn't her! Only her father can bring the sun beneath the clouds, only Saradomin," Lord Drakan spits at the name, "has such power over the lightning. Nothing is as lifeless as what this one felt, save for golems and clockwork beasts."
"She was a death goddess, my lord," Vanstrom reminds him.
"Even gods of death have life within them. Tell me what does a god weigh, Vanstrom?"
"You tell me, you were there for the Empty One's death and Zamorack's ascension. You have personally known two gods."
"No. This was not an encounter with a god. This was a message, this one," Lord Drakan said pointing at the injured one, "was allowed to live. But what was the message, and why was it sent, Vanstrom?"
"The powers of heaven stand against us, my Lord."
"When has it ever been any different?"
The guards finally unhooded and turned loose Ranis and Vanescula deep inside Darkmeyer to the east of Castle Drakan, after which the guards dissipated like smoke, no conversation with the Drakans. Try as they might, they could not gleam even a single clue of how to arrive at their brother's chambers.
Ranis and Vanescula turned to eachother and stood in silence. Even though they were swapping thoughts, nothing of use came of it, they might as well have been wearing thosed damned hoods. Vanescula was the first to attempt speech.
"Slayers."
"Vanstrom is playing with us. After that speech about our games."
"What game?"
"Why would he even allow us to hear that? Why sneak us in to brother's chambers when dear old brother has been adamant that we have no direct contact with his high and mighty self?"
"Are you saying he let us feel his emotions?"
"He is the best at hiding his thoughts out of all of us, plus he has those damed hoods. Why didn't I see this?"
"You know, Ranis, I think that even if you did see this beforehand, you would have gone along anyway. In fact, how do I know that's not what you are doing right now?" Vanescula came up to Ranis and leaned her forehead against his. She twirled his hair and looked into his eyes, a wicked gleam in her own. He wants to play with us. You seem ready to play. She giggled. So, let us play.
Two pairs of great leathery wings beat in the moonlight, laboring to carry a third eastward.
In a sheet carried between two of the strongest vyrewatch patrol fliers that could be found on short notice was a third, his back, wings, and face burned as if he had been dragged out into the harsh, direct unfiltered sunlight of the southern desert. That such a thing could happen on a perfectly overcast day was disturbing. What's worse was the lack of psychic activity in the area, save for the ghouls, constantly hungry, and the confusing mental imagery coming off the injured vyrewatch. The images provided some clue why there was so much ozone in the air.
Eastward, eastward, they carried their load. The odd details of this vyrewatch's injuries reached Lord Drakan's attention, so eastward they flew, to the great gateless walls of Meiyerditch and Castle Drakan.
On the grounds of Castle Drakan awaited Vanstrom Klause and four vyrewatch Elites, watching the skies. But Vanstrom was not only using his eyes to watch. He felt two figures stalking outside the city walls, where they should not be. Out of place.
Typical.
Two pairs of wings joined the two vyrewatch patrollers carrying their injured comrade eastward.
"Lord Ranis, Lady Vanescula." The patrollers stopped short of a salute, not wanting to drop their cargo.
"What do we have here?" asked Ranis. "It is shaped funny."
"Yes it is," Vanescula said, a finger pressed to her lips. "Who is it?"
"One of our own, injured"
"And why bring him here?" Ranis asked, taking a peek at what the two patrollers where carrying.
The two carrying the injured vyrewatch glanced at each other, then at their fallen comrade. "Lord Klause requested it." Thoughts swam through the air. How much should we tell them?
So, that is what he is up to. That is what he is excited about. As the two carrying their comrade progressed east, Ranis and Vanescula Drakan flew about them like pestering mosquitos.
Do you see anything special?
Ranis, Vanescula, and the vyrewatch patrol landed in the castle's courtyard, coming in as softly the could and leaving the injured vyrewatch on the ground on the sheet he was carried in on. The Drakans were taking a closer look when Lord Klause approached with four elites.
Clearing his throat to get their attention, "So, what brings you two here?"
"Well, we just couldn't help sensing your excitement about this... delivery," Vanescula replied with a slight smile.
"I must be slipping."
"Why do you hide your thoughts from us?" Ranis demanded.
"You know why, it is in my job description. Why do you hide your thoughts from each other? These little games you play endanger the security of Morytania. There are those who would take advantage you, play you against each other, and turn your little sibling rivalry into something that will tear this kingdom apart," Vanstrom replied, voice calm, but with an edge sharpened with anger and concern.
As if on cue, the injured vyrewatch moaned and visions of red hair, red eyes, and fire lashed out at the gathered vampyres.
"Guards!" Vanstrom called out, "Hoods! All of them! Now!"
There was a brief struggle from Ranis and Vanescula before darkness in the form of sacks impregnated with psychic activity inhibiting minerals descended on their heads.
Silence.
Footsteps echoed as Vanstrom Klause and his four elites, now joined by two other guards, marched five hooded figures through the countless corridors, magical barriers, and portals of Castle Drakan. Or perhaps not. Even though Ranis and Vanescula's had centuries to become familiar with the the layout of the place they were unsure that they where even in the castle anymore. Portals complicated things.
All the while, the mumbling and moaning from the injured vyrewatch steadily increased. When the echoes seemed to fill a room much much larger than the corridors, the march stopped.
"Ranis? Vanescula? Klause! What are they doing here?" The voice of Lord Lowerniel Vergidiyad Drakan, Regent of the Sanguine Fields, thundered through the chamber, demanding an answer.
"My Lord," started Vanstrom, "they intercepted the delivery. I didn't want to take the risk of the disseminating rumo..."
"Brother!" interjected Vanescula. "Finally we hear your voice in person! Why do you hide from us? Why do you not show your face to your loyal subjects?" She struggled hard against the guard who was charged with keeping the hood over her head. The sounds of Ranis struggling with his guard only emboldened her. There was no way he would be the first to see Lowerniel's face.
They injured vyrewatch suddenly gained coherence and started shouting, "The Destroyer comes! The Destroyer comes! She brings the wrath of her father down upon us! Oh Lord, please hear me! She showed me the Light and it burned and blinded me! Oh Lord, spare us from her hunger!"
"The Destroyer? What is going on Lowerniel?!" Ranis increased his struggles.
"Would you please escort my siblings out of my chambers?"
"Yes, Lord Drakan," responded four of the guards as they began moving Vanescula and Ranis out.
"What is this Lowerniel? If she is training up another army of slayers to come after us, we deserve to know. We deserve to know!" Ranis shouted.
"Slayers..." Vanescula ceased struggling and allowed herself to be guided out, lost in though, all alone in that psychic suppression hood on her head. Sliske's toys and their army fought all the way to Castle Drakan and they had a large company of slayers with them, hardened by the final years of the God Wars. The Morytanian countryside has been lousy with slayers in the last few years. Unorganized and amateurish, yes, but still.
After Ranis and Vanescula were escorted out, Lord Drakan ordered the remaining guards and Vanstrom Klause to unhood the injured vyrewatch and the two that brought him in. They gasped at the combined psychic pressure of Lord Drakan's searching mind and the onslaught of jumbled confused vision and memories from their injured friend. Their friend stood there, his burned, useless wings drooping, mouth agape.
"This makes no sense. Since when does the Devourer bear the power of her father to bring light where there is only darkness?" Lord Drakan mused as he examined the burnt-in hand prints on the injured one's face. "Since when does she have the power to pull lightning from the sky? To cast Killerwatts out of the clouds and dash them to bits upon the earth?" He sorted though the memories of the injured one and of his companions, experienced the smell of ozone, felt the electricity trace a dendritic pattern across the skin. Saw the swamp gas burst into flames. Saw the red hair, the red eyes, the tanned skin. Felt the lack of a psychic presence, the lack of body heat, the lack of mass, the lack of life.
"The Destroyer is powerless! This isn't her! Only her father can bring the sun beneath the clouds, only Saradomin," Lord Drakan spits at the name, "has such power over the lightning. Nothing is as lifeless as what this one felt, save for golems and clockwork beasts."
"She was a death goddess, my lord," Vanstrom reminds him.
"Even gods of death have life within them. Tell me what does a god weigh, Vanstrom?"
"You tell me, you were there for the Empty One's death and Zamorack's ascension. You have personally known two gods."
"No. This was not an encounter with a god. This was a message, this one," Lord Drakan said pointing at the injured one, "was allowed to live. But what was the message, and why was it sent, Vanstrom?"
"The powers of heaven stand against us, my Lord."
"When has it ever been any different?"
The guards finally unhooded and turned loose Ranis and Vanescula deep inside Darkmeyer to the east of Castle Drakan, after which the guards dissipated like smoke, no conversation with the Drakans. Try as they might, they could not gleam even a single clue of how to arrive at their brother's chambers.
Ranis and Vanescula turned to eachother and stood in silence. Even though they were swapping thoughts, nothing of use came of it, they might as well have been wearing thosed damned hoods. Vanescula was the first to attempt speech.
"Slayers."
"Vanstrom is playing with us. After that speech about our games."
"What game?"
"Why would he even allow us to hear that? Why sneak us in to brother's chambers when dear old brother has been adamant that we have no direct contact with his high and mighty self?"
"Are you saying he let us feel his emotions?"
"He is the best at hiding his thoughts out of all of us, plus he has those damed hoods. Why didn't I see this?"
"You know, Ranis, I think that even if you did see this beforehand, you would have gone along anyway. In fact, how do I know that's not what you are doing right now?" Vanescula came up to Ranis and leaned her forehead against his. She twirled his hair and looked into his eyes, a wicked gleam in her own. He wants to play with us. You seem ready to play. She giggled. So, let us play.
