A Calling

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Buried deep beneath the ruins of a once pristine temple, the beast slept. Its body forced to kneel with its arms spread and chained to two opposing walls before being placed into a magically induced slumber that was never meant to end. The creature had the vague figure of a man, but he could hardly be called human, his skin seemed to be composed of a pure darkness that would consume all light it came into contact with. Rock hard ebon spikes jutted out from various points on his fit, yet battle scarred, body. The creature had no human name yet his title was known to many. He was the Plague of Darkness, named as such because the deaths left in his wake seemed more attributable to a plague rather than a single man. It had amused him to know that he was compared to a neigh unstoppable force, however, reality had different plans and now he slumbered, waiting for his chance to break free and have his Vengence upon those who placed him here.

With time, and the chaos of the current situation, the magical barriers protecting the decaying ruins from intrusion had been broken, and the temple that had been made to his prison was now open to the opportunistic tomb robbers who were always scouting abandoned temples for forgotten riches. As fate would have it, two such scavengers who had been picking the place clean of its remaining relics, had stumbled across the hidden entrance to the catacombs below, where the prisoner had been kept, and by now, forgotten. With each passing night they moved deeper and deeper into the darkness that would lead them to his chamber. While he was not physically awake, he could sense their presence, and knew that it was only a matter of time before they disrupted the carefully placed wards that kept him from breaking free. It had been so long since he had been placed in this pit that a few more nights mattered little to him.

As the two fortune seeking scavengers approached the final chamber of the maze buried beneath the temple ruins, they could make out the figure in the pale moonlight that filtered in from a hole in the floor above. Unaware of fate they were tempting, they continued to move closer, figuring it was some morbid statue that the priests kept hidden in the bowels of their temple. "What do you suppose it is?" the younger of the two men asked after observing Plagues motionless form for some time. "Perhaps a statue seized by the priests from some heretic cult." the older one said, scratching his bearded chin. "Go see what its made of, it could be worth something." After a moment or two of consideration, the younger one began to approach, his hand cautiously reaching out to poke at one of the spikes that lined Plagues shoulders. "Damnit" he yelled as he pulled his hand back, looking to his partner. "Still sharp." he said, holding his hand out to show the man the cut on his hand, a few drops of blood falling to the dirt floor with this gesture. As soon as the blood touched the earth, the wards were shattered and a sudden chill filled the men, a chill one would feel in the face of impending doom.

"It's been so long..." Came a voice from the darkness, shattering the silence between the men. The jingle of chains drew their, now frightened, attention to where the statue had been, but it had vanished into the surrounding shadows. "Where the hell did it go!?" the younger man yelled as he frantically looked around him. A dark laugh filled the chamber and echoed throughout the catacombs, a kind of response to the mans question. Before the other could answer, Plague had reappeared behind his younger cohort, his eyes glowing with an eerie bright light. Raising his hand, a blade made up of the same material as the spikes covering his body slid out from the top of his wrist, resembling a katar. Seeing this, the older mans eyes widened and he flailed his limbs trying to warn his partner.

It was too late, before the other could decipher the frantic warning Plague had buried the blade into the mans back, his hand sinking into the hole his weapon had made. Wrapping his fingers around the young mans spine. His victim looked at his partner in horror as he felt blade enter, coughing up a bit of blood in the process, shock setting in quickly afterwards. Looking to the other Plague flashed a wicked grin and viciously ripped his hand backwards bringing with it his victims spine, the now lifeless body falling into a heap before his feet. "Thank you for freeing me." He said as he licked a bit of blood off the tip of his blade before it disappeared back into his forearm. "Tell the witch who imprisoned me that i will return for her later." With that, his body shimmered as if a haze had grown around him, then vanished into the darkness.

He would have enjoyed torturing the old crone for her transgressions, but it would have to wait, he had business elsewhere. He could sense it shortly after his slumber had been interrupted by the pulse of magical power being unleashed throughout the realm, she was back and her presence called to him.
 
Sole stood in the forest, north of the Capital city, near the cave which once resided Lim-Dul. He glared in the direction in which The Lich stood, silently, listening, all observant of not only the energy his aura picked up on, but the body language of Lim-Dul. Yes, old friends this is true, but Sole not only knew the Lich's deepest secrets, but evidently his biggest ambition.

" Indeed... " Sole said, pausing as his gazed turn south.. " We have so much to discuss..." he smirked lightly, a glint of crimson breaking through the shadows and darkness which he concealed himself in. "Planning.. too.." he added. Sole knowing well that this awakening, this calling was no longer intended for him, but another source.Lim-Dul was eager to gain the power he urged for so long, and maybe this time he would achieve it, or perhaps succumb to that which he most desires.

" I will meet you at the center of Ayenee Capital City, next to the Kellindil monument." A explosion of energy burst into mid air, particles of reddish energy fading into nothingness. Just like that, Sole left the forest north of the city and began his slide to the city, where Syn awaited his appearance, just as Chaos, and where Scorn would finally meet Sole Rakkor.

With a quick thought, his form began to manifest, small reddish fragments of energy began to appear, swirling themselves together, conjoining to shape a form of a dark figure. Beside the man was an 8ft staff, shinny with a diamond edge 2ft blade made out of the metallic rod. Red eyes glimmering in the darkness of the hood, face barely visible from any distance unless standing with 5ft. His cloak, unlike any other, harmonious to the energy and mind of Sole, a living form who coacts with Sole.

His gazed locked upon the dueling, and the companions. " Well well well..." his voice slithered out, cold and dark.. " What have we here.." he added, feeling the presence of those near him, and those not to far distant, Scorn, Aphotic, Dezlynxiari, and farther away, Chaos, Skyler, Lim-Dul, Forge.. even a new, familiar foe from his war with Darkness, Plague Darkness. " Seems I leave this place, and everyone wants to start conquering." He smirked as he awaited the arrival of Chaos, Lim-Dul.. and Scorn, his aura consuming energy being released and used, gathering it to himself and preparing for his own use.
 
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With others having arrived, and the statue defaced, Gaorgch took breifly to the air, circled above the square in which the statue and then landed upon the ground. When the crow was at waist height, it transformed. For a second it was a ball of black dust and blacker feathers, then a moment later, as the cloud was blown away by the gentle breeze, Garogch then stood amongst them. Some he had heard of, but his arrival in Ayenee, and his rapid rise through the ranks of the servants of the four had come too recently for him to have encountered them before.

"Good day gentlemen. Do any of you happen to know who lacked the subtlety to wait before unleashing swarms of piddly little demons upon the city?"
 
The success of his counter attack catalyzed a series of events that infused this being with a natural high that was indescribable. It wasn't the simplicity of the death before him that tickled at his mind but the portentous arrival of those who had arisen to convene in this exact spot. His back continued to face Syn at this point, whatever remnants of Judgment remained fixated upon as the arm that had been used to expel that massive blast bulged out, veins expanded as energy still reigned supreme within that chaotic vessel. Crimson effulgence beamed outward, its radial light adding a certain glow to this deity that was simply a byproduct of the emotion he had just released. Anger....disappointment, and a burning desire for completion had ephemerally become his focus until now he was left with a quick victory in hand and the words of Syn to sweeten the rolling sensation along his form.

He too sensed several beings but their presences were not as familiar as they were to Syn. This ascended being had slipped in and out of the attentions of many for his machinations have become so widespread that any investigation as to their origin would lead them nowhere. Chaos was a plague of its own that lied deep within the souls of all that resided here whether they knew it or not, festering within and waiting for the opportune moment to shine in all its glory, seeking release or solace from their pitiful hosts. There were those who embraced it....and yet many more who simply let it govern them when they saw fit. Which category the beings who entered this area were placed under was none of this deity's concern. Continuous benefit made it easy for him to lose any sort of care as to how they implemented it all. Perhaps this was why Scorn had been received without even the slightest frown or look of anger once he arrived. Nothing but a blank stare was offered to him, yet Aphotic would receive another burning stare for a span of few seconds before he addressed Synful easily.

<I would never abandon you to this filth Synful. There are many things rising forth and we will stand in the midst of this chaos to enjoy what is to come> His voice was full of anticipation at this point, the arm he still held from the shadow creature quivering from the immense energy that began to surge through his form now. He was not done addressing Synful, however, as he finally turned around after the overweight individual continued to fiddle around with the monument. Chaos, Forge, Lim'Dul, and Sole, while not ignored were not acknowledged either wherever they were. He assumed they would all convene in this specific area and even the sight of Garogch provided a solidifying base for that assumption. It was all left to Ried now to voice the reason why he has placed so many volatile elements within this one well-known area.

A dulcet tone spilled out at Syn as he decided to speak yet again to her. "We will suffer these whelps for the time being and reap the rewards of their own creation...." He stared directly into the fullness of the woman's eyes, still just about a foot away from her. It was almost as if Syn's realization of things to come had failed to reach him until now but that was not the case. This newly revived focus seemed to arise out of nowhere as his comment was not meant to be directed at anyone within the near vicinity. He kept his ground before Syn but made sure to look at everyone else in the area. For the most part, this had become neutral ground, but with the constant addition of new individuals it could quickly change. The man who voiced the coming of another was noticed but ultimately discarded. The arrival of the voidal entity did not phase this being at all anyway. He would enjoy it all...no matter what.
 
Using the darkness within his tomb as a gateway, Plague slipped into a thin pocket of reality outside of the jurisdiction of the mortal plane. This other side was nothing more than an ever shifting web connecting one patch of darkness to the others. Using the unique impressions that Synful left on the world as a beacon, he made his way across countless miles of terrain, moving from one portion of the web of shadows to another at an inhuman pace. Each step he took closer to his destination made her presence call to him even more as if some part of her knew of his approach.

Coming upon the closest suitable area he emerged from the darkness within the shadows of a tree. Pulling the darkness around him once more, he concealed himself from the physical senses of the others who had gathered around his mistress. Though he knew his presence could not be masked against more sensitive perceptions. Watching the events as they unfolded he took mental notes of each in attendance, 'better to know your enemy before you act' he thought, knowing that these beings held more power than the countless others he had slaughtered, and that any tactical advantage would be needed should it come combat. Most of his focus went to Colvin, as he had placed himself closest to Synful and thus proved to be the most threatening. He could already feel the darkness around his hands calcifying over his knuckles creating smaller, one inch spikes, though he could not understand why instinct told him to do so. From his perch within the tree he called out to her, his voice nothing more than a whisper in her ear, "Your servant returns..."
 
(I am trying to make this post small and uneventful, delaying Scorn going to the monument, awaiting responses from other players I feel are needed to make this play out as best as it can.)

Attuned, unique, his surrounding were but an extension to his physicality. Nothing could surprise him, nothing could hide from him. The ant on the floor, the moth in the wind, the parasites in the air, and even hiding monstrousities. He was the perfect predator, the perfect hunter and yet the ultimate prey. Scorn DarkTide.

The Kellindil Monument, so close yet so far away. But did he really want to make his way to the monument, did he really want to join that crowd of monstrous entities whom he knew would one day bow to his surpemacy. Alas' he stopped, delaying the inevitable, the meeting he knew would come. But was it out of hesitation or was he concerned, concerned about the answer, the response Aphotic might partition unto his answer.

"Why would you ask a question when it is completely obvious I am the masochist in this wretched city?" As was meant for the ears of Lowthor and anyone else who truly cared, his words came as cold, heartless spits apon the air. Yet they held a certain ring of sympathy, as if something with in wanted to deny, or perhapse even apologize for what he had become, a monster.

That far away gaze giving away what lie beneath, that look of loss playing on instincts not meant for the chaotic tanar'ri and yet he was cursed, cursed with their lineage, their blood. The Lord General Cambion buried so far beneath layers of seathing hatred and unrelenting chaos, the hero that could stand against such a union as was destined to form scratching, fighting his way to a surface he may never see, the cursed, the plagued, the prisoner, Scorn DarkTide.
 
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"Coming! Coming! Coming!"

A man possessed, a man with out reason to continue on, touched by the darkness that was The Hidden Lord, gifted with insanity instead of power, left in the wake, the throes of what could have been greatness, reduced to nothing more than this...this graffitic preacher of madness.

There was no more room for his inscriptions, his defacement of The Kellindil Monument, every last inch of that once glorious statue was reduced to this likeness with a message from The Lord Who Watches, Gargauth.

'Watchful, hidden. A presence, years, centuries. Like a whisper in a thought, a delusion in a scream, a nightmare beyond your wildest dreams. '

'The impression in your mind, the after thought of your sin, the thought of that very same sin, and the word, the push, the strive to commit it. Murder, deception and theft. Ever watchful, ever hidden, Gargauth is here.'

Only now did the man slowly begin to turn, face the crowd, allow his likeness to be seen, his shadow cast across the ground, the whites of his eyes to be noticed, the scars on his face to play with ones memory. Twisting what they may remember and what they have forgotten.

This man, this chubby little man looked like someone close, yet lost. A runaway child, a dead grandparent, murdered husband. Someone, so dear to those nearby stood directly before them in this crazed, possessed man preaching the name of the god of deceit and lies.

"Iiiiii'mmmmm watchinnnnnggggg yyyyyoooooouuuuuuu!!!"
 
It had been hard, so hard, to keep himself hidden away, carefully wrapping the tides of the Warp around himself, straining to keep his presence in the ethereal realm concealed from beings with unspeakable power, beings that were the very Warp made flesh. Even here, concealed as he was, their power called to him, and seared against his hidden presence like the sun against closed eyes. He could feel the awesome gathering of power, spread throughout the embattled city, feel it as it condensed upon a single point at the corrupt Metropolis’ centre. There were others out there still, some beyond the boundaries of the capital, but the largest concentrations of strength and power were here, almost on top of him.

The power here staggered him. He could feel the fabric of reality contort under the pull of such strength – he assayed a quick prayer that it would no tear, and deliver Ayenee into the heart of a new Eye of Terror – But this was not the first time he had faced such power. He was a member of the Ordo Malleus. Facing such trials should be a matter of commonplace. He had personally despatched Daemons beyond count back to the Maelstrom. He had smelled the rot of the Father of Decay, felt the caress of the Lord of Pleasure, unwound plans laid by the Great Deceiver, and fought blade-to-blade with the blood-soaked servants of the Blood God.

But he knew this was no time for bravado. The powers focused upon Ayenee were substantial alone, inconceivable combined. And still others gathered in the twisting Warp, watching, waiting, biding their time. He had no idea what he could do against these beings that had descended upon this planet, but he knew that there was no escape for him. Live or die, he would have to emerge from hiding and face these beings. But, Emperor willing, it would be at a time of his choosing.

Those small, mindless creatures that swarmed all over the city killing and destroying without thought seemed to pass by his current sanctuary. As he twisted the currents of the Warp to hide his presence, so he used the same powers to shield himself from those mindless creatures. It was no real burden, even to shield the whole of the building in such a fashion. To those damned, mindless creatures, there was simply nothing there, like a blind spot that existed from every angle. The larger creatures, akin to the Greater Daemons of the Dark Gods would experience something similar, an inability to focus on this place, this building, even obliquely. Their master and the other beings gathered here would likely have no such trouble were they to look for him, but they would have to look. And right now, they all seemed rather too focused on one another to be pawing through the destruction they had wrought.

Drawing subtly through the Warp, the aged Inquisitor called upon one of his most powerful – and, some argued, most Heretical – weapons. The Daemonic entity know as m’Haelir. Bound millennia ago, the Daemon was unspeakably powerful, and none alive in the Imperium knew how a creature of such strength was ever bound to the will of men. As it was on a fragment of his ethereal being was caught, but it was enough. Though the beast was almost completely free to roam the Warp, a part of him was held by the Ordo Malleus. Inquisitor Decais was never officially granted the use of the Orb of M’Haelir, but it had nonetheless come to be in his possession, now encased within Decais’ ancient battle armour.

The Daemon never acknowledged the call, but answer it must, and answer it did as the Inquisitor used the Daemon to peer through the threads of fate and the Warp, into the gathering at the defaced monument. Even through this detached medium, Decais felt the bile and disgust rising in him. The smell of Chaos seemed to fill his nostrils, tainted and vile. All at this foul gathering were steeped in darkness, and the ancient Inquisitor felt the urge to lash out at them, futile as such an action may prove to be. But he resisted, and waited like those other shadowy predators lurking in the Immaterium. He would choose his moment to strike.
 
"Status Report, Bishop."

Saar'Tcheras hadn't even fully stepped onto the plane before his minions in the city, remnants of an attempt of his own to capture the Ayenee capital some time ago, began chattering away.

"A few of your old acquaintances set up shop here not too long ago, one of them, we're not sure who yet, decided it'd be a good idea to gate a small army of Tanar'Ri. Our count is at two Trues and a small number of Manes, Mr. Yakuvna." Bishop replied, addressing Saar'Tcheras by the human alias he'd taken for work in the city, complementing the business-suited human body he'd taken prior to arriving.

"Someone's trying to keep them under personal control. That won't last long, good. What have my friends been up to? Who has arrived?" Saar'Tcheras asked, his face impassive.

"From the Circle, Lim-Dul, Archsole, and Chaos, all of which have been speaking to each other. Prince wasn't able to evesdrop and stay undetected, but they're in close communication. They all came for Lim-Dul, who cast, or is casting, a summoning spell to bring someone named Gargauth to Ayenee."

"No wonder you were so insistant I come personally." Saar'Tcheras commented, suppressing the reflex to have his eyes bug out of his skull at the mere mention of that name. "Continue, who is opposing this?"

"We're... Not sure, Mr. Yakuvna, Ried Shas has been extremely active, sending messages to nearly everyone involved. Prince was able to determine he's inviting people to the Kellindil monument, some kind of talk."

"A Trap," Saar'Tcheras corrected Bishop,

"Yes sir, most likely. The other notable is Scorn Darktide, power-mad but suggestable. He's his own side. There are a few others, we caught wind of another demon summoning in the city, powerful, just below a Prince we think. We can't get a bead on the summoner, he's got some powerful magic concealing him, it works differently from anything you've shown us, we wouldn't have even known he was there if he hadn't summoned the Demon. That's all our intel so far." Mark Bishop, second-in-command of Saar'Tcheras' capital city operations, finished.

"Excellent work gentlemen." Saar'Tcheras began, falling into the old habits of working with humans, even though he needn't have bothered. Everyone in the room already had their minds opened through psychic surgery and made unwaveringly loyal to the fiend, "We're going to have to play catch-up here. Kras, I want you in Dis, find a contact we can sell the Tanari'Ri intel to. Two Trues barely guarded should be a fine prize. King and Bishop, you're with me. Prince, send word to the Circle, I need to talk with them. Then send a projection to the Kellindil monument. I want the rest of you to fall back to Cha'Tirit and get the troops ready. They might be needed in very short order." A gateway shimmered into view before Saar'Tcheras even finished speaking, beyond it the Daemonic fortress that Saar'Tcheras called home.

"I want everyone and everything of value we have here through this portal within half an hour. Move."

With that, Saar'Tcheras faded from view along with two of his lieutennants, in their wake, a flury of activity.
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Jacob Prince, Saar'Tcheras' telepath lieutennant sent out mental messages, revealing himself for the first time to Chaos, Sole Rakkor, and Lim-Dul; "My Master, Saar'Tcheras, sends his regards, and his interest in renewing old alliances. He hopes to speak with each of you personally in short order."

After sending that out, which took only a moment, and assuming none of the three smote him down for daring to speak with them, Prince then cast his mind through the city, an immaterail mental image which winked into existence near the Kellendil monument. He was just a young man, human, dressed as all of Saar'Tcheras lieutennants in a business suit and tie, ready to enter negotiations, if only the rest of the city would arrive so expediantly as he would.

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Saar'Tcheras himself, flanked by Mark Bishop and Alexander King, stepped from the Astral Plane and outside the building Inquisitor Decais kept hidden within the folds of the warp. He wasn't about to force his way in, put the Inquisitor on a possibly violent edge before they'd even had a chance to talk.

Though he WAS a Fiend, the hell Saar'Tcheras hailed from had nothing in common with the Warp, so it might be that this, combined with the human skin he wears, might conceal him from the inquisitor's righteous wrath... His mind calls out into the building, seeking a mind inside it, Decais' was the only one to find...

"Come now, Demoncaller, you didn't think you could call for so powerful a fiend in my city, and stay unnoticed, did you? Name yourself, and state your purposes here."
 
Synful Darkness

Suddenly her attentions were torn in all different directions. The awakening of Plague sent screams from Mother Darkness herself racing through Syn’s head. Her chin dropped and her eyes closed in a moment of sheer pain, the visions she held behind those fallen lids were of death, the thing Plague brought better then most. The moment her eyes fluttered open however she was yanked back in to the reality that was this city and the two before her. Colvin then came to face her fully and a smirk traced along her lips as she adjusted her gaze in the direction she knew Aphotic and Scorn were heading from.

It was then that Sole made his presence known. Quickly her light hearted smirk faded and emotion drained from her face. Her body tensed slightly and her shoulders rolled back just a bit, chin lifting in pride as she stared at him. She knew he was close, but for him to come so soon she was not exactly expecting such a move. Clearing her throat she nodded in respect to a man she owed a great debt to, yet she made no move to openly welcome him. Silence held her tongue, always watching..thats what she often did.

Pressing her lips together she sighed and glanced up towards the monument, listening only here and there to the cubby man that rambled on about nothing she really cared to hear. However she knew that The Hidden Lord was not far behind the beings that were now filtering in to the capital. Her weight shifted and she took a few steps closer towards Sole, her eyes now set on him. Again she offered the sly smirk of hers, attempting to keep things at a level ground between her and this once great Lord. It had been some time since they had seen each other, let alone came to Ayenee. Colvin was not forgotten, but with the coming of so many her attentions would of course be taken else where. Yet considering Colvin and she would stay neutral through it all, unless something great pushed them to either side.

In mid-stride however her attentions were once again directed to new beings making himself known. Pause half way between Sole and Colvin she turned her attentions, orbs of onyx raking through the Darkness that Plague kept curled around his form. Her arms folded within the sleeves of her cloak again and she sighed gently, she knew he was close, but with all that was going on she hadn’t expected him to come so soon, but then again she hadn’t really expected any of her kin to come forward at a time like this, there were so few left now. Clearing her throat she turned and faced the tree, her eyes piercing in to the darkness and staring directly at Plague as he toyed with the very thing her essence was created of. “Come here..†Finally words broke her silence, her tone demanding and cold, yet laced with a hint of affection for one such like her. She glanced towards Sole, allowing him to know he would be greeted sooner or later. Interesting how this all was unfolding before the statue of a man they all knew and perhaps respected..

Aphotic Sluice

Blinking in sheer shock she came to a full and complete stop, pulling Scorn to do the same unless he let go of her. Her arms swayed at her sides and it took all she had in order to keep her jaw from falling. Inside she was hysterical with laughter, but nothing short of wide eyes graced those lovely features. Clearing her throat she collected herself and sighed gently, reaching up and curling those slender digits around Scorns shoulder, it was here that Aphotic decided to make her move, to lure him in as few were able to do.

“You don’t have to be alone..†Her eyes turned towards the monument and the small group of overly powerful beings that rested ahead, her mind swimming with ideas before she turned her attentions back to Scorn. “I will be here for you, as well as your Daughter..†Nibbling lightly on her lower lip she attempted to keep her tone sweet and soft to his hard ears. Usually she was the furthest thing from a tender woman, however in order to sway Scorn as much as she could perhaps it would take all of this. He was a strong man, yet a woman could easily destroy a kingdom by putting the King on his knees. Some might say it was the same for a woman, but Aphotic would argue such things. Were her actions pure? Or perhaps she was in it for all she could get..time would reveal all in the end.

Her arms reached out then and collected his forearm between them, tenderly she lead him forward towards the monument and the others. The closer they got the more she felt him hesitate. Was he scared to coming before these people? Did he know something they perhaps did not? Glancing up at him in wonder she arched a brow, a slight look of worry crossing her gaze before she lowered it and continued the slow paced walk towards the small crowd, the chubby short man barely in hearing range. She said nothing then..simply walked with him, holding on to his one arm with both of hers.
 
"Then..." that word dwindled into silence, staring at the crowd forming before them, the amassing deities, entities, creatures of darkness. The light was gone today, not one virtue existed in the heart of those forming before him that spoke of anything less than destruction or their own ends. "Then, lets finish this."

Hesitant perhapse, but this move was playing out in his mind long before it's execution. Side by side with another, a woman whom stalked him for weeks, or perhapse even months. His two servants, Despise and Deceit so near, akin' to unleash their wrath apon this small crowd with the manes at their disposal.

He seemed perhapse susceptible to this woman's didgits, her fingers curling around his shoulder, her soft toned words playing perfectly with his mind, but his was a mass of chaos, a mind that truly did work in mysterious ways. A stretch of emotion went a long way, perhapse just enough for the buried Lord General Cambion to snake The DarkTide, to once again control this cursed vessel known as The DarkTide, or perhapse it was wishful thinking.

Never the less the monument was there, less than a city block away and getting closer, Colvin, Sole, Synful, Garogch, so many others met with that gaze, that steele grey narrowing of his orbs that reminisced of times past, times that did not contribute to what he knew was coming, one more great battle, but what role would The DarkTide truly play in this battle? That answer perhapse lied on the shoulders of another, a certain soft spoken woman.
 
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Furrowing his brow as Synful spoke, he could'nt help but wonder what her intentions were. To reveal himself to a group of potential enemies went against his nature, especially when said group held as much power as the ones before him. It mattered little now, she had gave him an order and he would follow it. With a quiet sigh, he loosened his grip on the darkness used to conceal himself, though it remained around him as a cloud of haze. With a mental signal the haze wrapped around his body, clothing his lower half in tangible shadows which took on the sembalence of the silky pants one would expect to see on an unarmored samurai. As the last of the haze congealed around his form he stepped from the branch and began his descent.

His bare feet soundlessly hit the ground with his landing, body dropping instantly into a crouch. He knew that even if they had not heard him land his presence was surely noticed by the others. Snapping his hate filled gaze from one person to the next he clenched his fists tightly a predatory instinct that was seared into his brain long ago. Rising to his feet, he cautiously moved towards Synful, eyes warily darting observing the others actions with each step. He did not fear them, but the thought of being caught off guard was inconcievable to him. Drawing closer to Synful, he relaxed somewhat, the stony protrusions on his fists sinking back into the darkness of his form. Focusing his gaze upon Synful he bowed his head in respect, stopping a few feet short of her. Though he questioned her intentions in having him reveal himself he remained silent.
 
Decais had to admit, he was a little surprised. Firstly that this newcomer should find him so quickly when the others had passed him by for so long. And secondly at this man's bold approach. Although even now he knew that to apply the name 'man' to the being calling him out was something of a misnomer. His wrinkled brow furrowed further as he studied the creature and it's companions. There was power there, as sure as there was in any of the others. But it was not a power Decais had faced before. Something not of the Warp.

This, of course, made the aged Inquisitor no less wary.

He considered his options for a moment before replying. It would be beyond foolish to attack this creature now, and risk revealing himself to the others gathered around the heretical Monument, at least, while he was unprepared. But there could be no question of ignoring this being. Were he ignored, he may try to force entry, and the ensuing confrontation would certainly draw the attention of unwanted parties. Besides, if this newcomer had sensed his use of the Daemon, then perhaps others had as well.

Though he disliked it, it seemed his hand was being forced.

Since the being had sent his 'greeting' - if such impertinence could be called so - via thought alone, Decais replied in kind. <My name is Julius Decais, Inquisitor of the Ordo Malleus. I am no 'demoncaller', and I will thank you to keep such heretical names to yourself.> There was no real malice in the thoughts. Irritation at what Decais saw as an insult, but nothing more <And as for my business here... at this time, it may be termed as survival. Now, since we are being civil, would you care to furnish me with your name and business?>

With a mental impulse, he warned the small cadre of men at his command to prepare themselves. They were 'blunt' humans, and likely of little or no use in what was shaping-up tp be a clash of godly powers, but each of them was unflinchingly loyal to the Emperor, and as such, to the Inquisitor who to them represented the right hand of their eternal lord and master. Their weapons were a mixture of off-world and local variants, likely to have little effect on most of the beings gathered here, but they were his. He was loath to use them, but they stood ready. As did he.

Should this newcomer prove to be a threat, then it would be Decais that would be called upon to neutralise it. His own weapons were far beyond those his warriors bore, many of them not physical at all. Once again, he was loath to use them.... yet.

This newcomer seemed unlike the other powers here. Perhaps there was some slim chance... "Ally" was too strong a word, but if their goals were akin, even if only for a time, Decais was not above using this newcomer. As the creature would no-doubt attempt to use him. But perhaps could be a very big word.
 
(( OOC: Rp with Axel Continued and posted for your viewing pleasure. ))

Satire Meresankh: Hooded eyes watched Axel as he took his drink. A small hiss of pleasure escaped through her pursed lips at the initial feel of his fangs gliding through her flesh. There was no pain, there never was for her and she smiled. He seemed to take such care with her, and that was admirable. Perhaps this wouldn't be such a bad deal after all.She could see his enjoyment and laughed lightly before she spoke softly. " Enough. " She had allowed him a few good swollows of her vitae before speaking, knowing he didn't even need that much. Now she would see if he would earn his trust and the next drink to come.

Axel Graves: Excitement saturated his sense of reality, his sense of the here and now. He wanted it, denied it until now. The euphoria of what he was offered, what he was given and what he had taken. The life giving blood of this mysterious walker of the night, of this pale piece of flesh, perfection personified. He wouldn't stop, he couldn't stop. Those eyes, narrowing orbs of raw yellow delving into the deapths of serial want. His grip tightened, fingers compressed against her flesh, her arms, holding it, holding her in place. The feast continued with every convulsion of his throat, her fingers so close perhapse even touched that lump in his throat, allowing Satire to feel her own life giving blood traveling into the pits of this addicted toy.

Satire Meresankh: Raising a brow, she reached out with her other hand slowly, methodically. She lightly stroked the side of his face before reaching behind his neck and entwining her fingers in his hair. She yanked, hard and pulled as she tilted her head looking down to him. " Enough Axel.. " she said again in a slightly more aggitated tone. " Prove yourself and release me or I will slay you where you kneel. " The warning came out a feral growl, for he was pressing his luck. She was growing more irritated by the moment. It wasn't the fact that he was taking her blood, but the fact that he hadn't listened. If he wanted another drink, he was certainly going about it the wrong way. This was his last chance, she would strike and strike hard if he refused to release her.

Axel Graves: Resentment, rejection filled his here and now. He didn't know, he didn't know what to do. His tongue played, toyed with her flesh before he finally, slowly began to release her flesh from his fangs but her own arm was not released, his tongue ceased to play with that limb but she was not released from his grip, his eyes allowed their violent structure to meet her features but she was not released, and in that time more of her vitae became the object of his saturation.

Satire Meresankh: Fingers relaxed slightly, still entwined in his hair as he removed himself and ceased drinking from her. Though, his continued hold on her arm caused her to narrow her gaze and tug at her arm. " Release me. " the tone spoken was soft, enchanting and with any luck would bend him to her will. She hid that anger that boiled deep inside, waiting, begging to surface. Satire watched him, a sparkling gleam in her eye, as if daring him to challange her further. She was not pleased, not at all. She said nothing else, simply waited. If he was smart, and she hoped he was, he would release her and step back. If not, the beast inside would claw it's way to the surface and that would not bode well for him. Not at all.

Axel Graves: But was he smart? Indeed, he spent centuries under the boot of his prior mistress, honed to her own vision of perfection. Hexavia Enthril, Hex Necrothornn to him was perfection, perfection until she disappeared leaving her pet to fend for himself, and fend for himself he did, in the death of hundreds of female vampires which satiated his thirst, but this was the first to actually awaken before he had his feasting, could he prove victorious in a fight, a quarrel against her? Typically no, but he was above all resourceful and finally, finally released her hand, her arm, her body. But he did not rise from betwixt her legs, her knees. Finally allowing his tongue to glean from betwixt those thin lips and remove any trace of this womans blood from them

Satire Meresankh: With a curt nod, she brought her wrist to her lips and suckled it for a moment, the small puncture wounds closing as she did so. Those vibrant eyes never left his as she did this, all the while wondering what he was thinking. Clearly, it was his intention to get to her before she woke, but he had faltered and assumed she would be in that dark sleep. Shaking her head, her knee bent, her right foot coming to rest against his chest for a moment. " Next time I ask you to stop, I suggest you obey me. Of course, that's if I allow you another drink. " With a violent push at his chest with her foot, she started to rise. Her intention was to knock him on his ass and move away from him before she gave him a sound throttle.

Axel Graves: Allowed that foot to meet his chest, still wallowing in the throes of that lust driven feeding, being allowed to feed. The ultimate form of submission for this or any other ghoul. On his knees, feeding from his captor at only their will or want. Slowly he'd allow his gaze to linger to this womans eyes, those narrowed beads of yellow twisting in a tyrade of what could only be called diluted green. He'd allow his fingers to rise, his hands, his didgits making that all to soft, even gentle touch amongst her foot, holding it, embracing it and even rubbing it against his chest and in the end using it as a form of altered balance from the shove he knew was coming. He would remain on his knees before this woman.

Satire Meresankh: As his hand brushed against her foot and he rubbed his chest against it she snarled and pulled her foot from his grasp pushed herself up. Standing on the pew, she took a few steps before dropping down and looking back to him. " That is just sick.. don't touch my feet. " She shivered, what was this guys problem? Rolling her eyes she moved away from him and leaned back against the opposite wall. " Tell me, what exactly is it you want from me? Because I have to be honest, I'm not impressed thus far with you or your actions. I think you need to get over what has scorned you and either learn to trust or be on your way with your sampling. "

Axel Graves: "Now you see.." he said still on his knees, looking up at this woman, no hate, no resentment apparent in this verbal lashing she implied apon him.. "I don't really think either of us want that." And finally, finally he allowed himself to find his feet beneath him and stand, delivering himself to those booted appendages staring at, advancing on, moving towards Satire. Something about him seemed almost ominous, drawn too, tempting of, he had her blood, he had his strength back and with it an all to unfaimiliar air of confidence was born.

Satire Meresankh: With a laugh she watched him come closer and shook her head. " Do not assume you know what I want. I was fine before you came and I'll be fine long after you are gone. So you see, I don't care either way. " The way he walked, the shift of his body caught her attention more than anything. She could see this renewed confidence and smiled. Good. At least he wasn't the simpering, begging sort anymore. That was rather annoying. This side of him she could handle, but certainly not the assumptive part. That would have to be curbed.

Axel Graves: And finally he greeted her with his own provocative gaze, his alluring presence standing over her, his shadow falling over her frame, outlining her in darkness. "Your right, I don't know what you want, but I can be.." His fingers came up if only to touch, carress her right cheek with the back of her fingers until they came down to the curvature of her neck. "Persuasive..." That last word fell from heated breaths, the sweet, almost exotic scent of his breath flowing not only against her face but impossibley around that frame, as if tempting her to submit.

Satire Meresankh: Well didn't that reaquainted confidence come forth in an alluring way? Reaching up, she pushed his hand away. Not harshly, but tenderly as if dismissing a child. " Keep your persuasive ways for the girls huh? I'm not interested now, nor will I be. I believe it is time for you to leave. You try to intimidate me, but it will not work. " Forcing a smile she scooted away from him and turned to look at him over her shoulder. " Why don't you run along and leave me be. When I have need of you, I will find you. "

Axel Graves: Crashed and burned, he took a hit to the ego there and it was fealt in every pore of his being, how she regarded him as insignificant, how she looked down apon him and dismissed his bold attempts at rekindling what it was that allowed him that drink, that oh-so seductive drink. He needed another! He would not be denied, he would not give up, not now not ever! And thusly he followed this woman, this woman that stole his heart with that drink, the effects of it still wearing on him, still taking their place, their hold. Infatuation slowly beginning to dwell, a masque of affection beginning to strangle his senses and sensibility. "Fealty isn't what you want, the seductor isn't what you want.. What do you want?" He would do..anything for another drink, for this woman.

Satire Meresankh: " Oh I want your fealty, but you go about giving it the wrong way. You over induldge yourself which tells me you can't control your lust and love of the blood. As for seducers.. I've had my share in the past and with that experience I've come to learn I don't need it. They only end up hurting you in the end and adoring your siblings more. You want me trust? Earn it. Plain and simple, to the point. You want another taste, earn that too, but it will not be tonight. You have had your first drink, I am sure that is enough to hold you for a few days. "

Axel Graves: Touched, scorned he felt it in his heart and more, his very soul burned with those words and for seconds he wondered if he made a mistake, he questioned if this is what he truly wanted and then...those questions, those thoughts became non existant as he was tempted with words of another drink, with words that hit him in places beyond the mortal mind, with words that etched the taste of this womans blood in the very core of his heart and soul, he wanted more, and the way his words came out assured her it was what he truly wanted. "How...how can I earn it....?"

Satire Meresankh: Satire could see the need, the desire in his eyes and smiled inwardly. Just how did he earn that trust? That second taste? Remaining silent for a moment she just studied him, ideas running through her mind. Finally she smiled. " If in a few days, you have proven you are loyal, I shall grant you another taste. If you refuse to release me when I say, that will be it. There will be no second chance for that final binding drink. The way you feel right now will lessen as time passes, and that will show me what to expect of you. Now, tell me... what exactly is it you want from me? "

Axel Graves: The blood rushed, warm, heated veins pumped the life giving essence of Satire through the very core of his being, her radiance, her power, her lust swelled with in him, another taste, a need for more yet he found himself incapable of forcing it from her, incapable of taking her with out her will. To a raise a hand to this monument of perfection would be sacreligious in his eyes and yet he desired, he wanted, he needed more. The pressure on his fingers turned knuckles red, red from the impression of the fists formed at his sides, flexing fingers jumping in and out of that closed hand expression. So close yet so far away, all he had to do...was reach out and take what he wanted. The first drink... the worst of all three, un-tamed, unable to control the flooding of emotions, yet unable to bring himself to take her, worse than the bond itself. Silence graced those lips, yet those eyes spoke volumes where words were lacking.

Satire Meresankh: Ah yes, she could see his iritation growing and chuckled. His reluctance to give an answer didn't surprise her, for she honestly hadn't expected one. He was fun to toy with, at any rate. With a soft nod, she laughed harder. " Very well, keep your desires to yourself. Someday you shall tell me. But know this, if we continue with the bonding, I will not be like the last mistress you had. I shall not abandon you. " She shrugged a bit and walked away from him yet again. " I'd simply kill you. " she threw at him as she moved back to the pew she had previously sat upon and once more settled herself upon it. Bringing her right leg up, she crossed it over her left and spread her arms over the back of the wooden seat and glanced to him. " We'll play your game for now. "

Axel Graves: Those ignited eyes stared volatiley at the woman before him, she claimed she would be his mistress, she decided to keep him, or did she? His heart beat, thumping in his rising and lowering chest. Unlike his vampiric relatives he needed to breath. Steps were taken to assure him that her words were bound and true, that she didn't toy with his mind, with his heart, with his life in those meandering moments. She would be joined on that church pew, so close to her exotic flesh. The cold touch of her body shivered beneath his flesh, the delicious scent of what lie beneath. He would feel it, taste it, touch it again. All he had to do was waite. Her warning, her promise of death seemed to have near to no effect on this creature, such was the mask of the forming bond.. one drink into slavery or love, torture or extasy... where would he be lead?

Satire Meresankh: Yet again, no words came forth from Axel and she wasn't entirely surprised. Though, some sort of retort or answer would be nice once in a while. Is this how their relationship would be? How dreadfully boring. As he sat near her, she merely watched him, wondering what went through that oh so intelligent mind of his. He wasn't stupid, she knew that. She knew what he wanted, yet was pondering if she could give it. What would it be like to have someone like him at her side? Whom she could talk with, and actually have an intelligent conversation. Deciding that she was bored already, she chose to try something new. Her leg undraped itself from her other and lay across his own, her right hand coming up to play against his chest. " Talk to me, tell me what it is you want. "

Axel Graves: What he wanted, and then it clicked. Was she asking him what he wanted, what he truly wanted instead of being told what he wanted, being told what was best for him, being told how to please his mistress. This woman was asking him what HE wanted. And at the same time he was wondering like she, if he could give her what she wanted, no he wasn't wondering if he could, he was deciding how he would, deciding what he would do. He felt the softness of her leg drape against his own, securing him in that pew next to her, he could feel the lightness of her weight holding him down and yet he relished this moment, cherished it when her fingers splayed against his exposed chest, crawling against that taut flesh. She would feel it before she saw it, his fingers touching, lying 'pon the smooth curvature of her inner thigh. Tensing against that soft, sensitive flesh. "I want to make you happy, I want to accompany you, be with you. I don't want to be abandoned again.. I want to live forever.."

Satire Meresankh: Her eyes closed for a moment as his small surrender to her actions pleased her. When his hand rested upon her thigh, they flew open and she looked to him in question. She made no motion to move his hand, none to push him away and as he spoke she sighed. " I asked what you wanted from me, what you wanted to do for me. Do you not have a mind of your own? Your own wishes for your life? Or do you simply live to please the mistress who commands you at any given time? Surely one such as yourself has something they desire more than pleasing another. Although, I'm not opposed to not being pleased, I do so like to be satisfied. " She gave him a small wink before she fell silent, falling into thought.

Axel Graves: What he wanted..? What did he want? He foregot his prior life, those memories stripped away by his former mistress, though he had no idea she had done such a thing, he just never thought about it, about what he at one time was. And now those thoughts were gone, gone for ever. He knew nothing, nothing but what his former captor wanted and what he did for her. And then his other hand came down to meet the upper portion of her inner thigh, where it too joined in the kneading od that delicate sensitive flesh. He had no answer, but he knew she wanted one, and he could sense in a way she was tiring of his jumping around her inquiries. "It was an experience being kept by her, and it was even fun being alone, being allowed to live my own life, but now... being here with you has opened my eyes to the possibility of...being an equal with someone I might one day call my lover."

Satire Meresankh: Well, that was certainly not the answer she had expected, and she hoped it was honest. At least that way, she could give him some credit for it. As his hands began to kneed her flesh she pulled her leg gently from him and dropped it to the ground before turning herself to face him. " I see. Being an equal is a good thing, at least in some people's eyes. Then there are those that completely disagree and always think they are better than everyone else. Perhaps this might work out after all. Then again, the fact that you evade my questions so easily is rather amusing. Maybe in time you will learn you can speak your mind without fear of rejection. I prefer honesty over deception. Althouh, every once in a while a good deceit is fun. " she laughed and just stared at him with a tender smile.

Axel Graves: "Do you think your better than everyone else?" He was sincere in asking that question, he wanted to know, perhapse for his own personal reasons, how much easier would it make him to work around what he was beginning to devise in his head, how to treat, react and manipulate this woman for his own future endeavors, the thought didn't even cross his mind of how incapable he would be of such a task once he tasted the second and third drink, just how hers he would be.

Satire Meresankh: With a soft shake of her head she answered his question. " Nay, I do not. For to think of ones self better than everyone else is to play the fool. " Never once, in her existance did she presume to be better than anyone. She might have been told she was, but it wasn't her way to think such a way. She was a laid back type, or at least she use to be. Besides, hadn't the past shown her that she was infact not better than anyone else? She would never be better than Atra, and that didn't bother her. For to think of yourself better than anyone at all was a downfall, a major one. To Satire, it made one appear weak and assuming.

Axel Graves: Sighed, those words were reassuring but at the same time they brought new emotions, mixtures of feelings to the surface, he expected, no he knew this woman would be better than him, better than everyone else, but those words rang through and through to what lie beneath the spectrum, what had been beaten into every ounce of his being, that he was below any female. Even the dead, the ones he killed he felt were better than him, and now he was being told otherwise. Silence, quiet assumed his position as he looked, almost longingly into this womans eyes, gauging her speach, was she being sincere?

Satire Meresankh: Holding his gaze for a moment she remained silent. Finally, she pulled her gaze from him and rose. She moved across the room towards the door where she pulled it open and leaned against the doorframe, her back to him. She stared out into the waning night, knew that sunrise was coming soon and sighed. She wondered what Colvin was doing, and if he was okay. Then she scolded herself mentally at why she even cared. But she did, he had called her and she had answered. Now she had Axel to think about. What was the reasoning to his question? It seemed sincere enough, yet was there an alterior motive to it's asking? Shaking her head softly she closed her eyes and rested her head against the wooden frame of the door.

Axel Graves: "You know.." He said quietly, allowing himself to rise from the pew in much the same manner as she. "The day will be coming soon, and unlike me you can not survive in it, but I'll be here when you awake. I'll be here through out it's harsh hours, waiting for you.." And with those words coming to a close Satire would find herself once more playing privy to his touch, his fingers tracing the curvature of her shoulders before he allowed his chin to rest amongst their frame, looking into the night much as she did.

Satire Meresankh: The closeness that he provided unsettled her a little, but she made no move away from him just yet. With a slow nod she looked to the sky for a moment and smiled. " I can walk in the light of day if I chose, I just don't do it. " Her voice was soft, relaxed and tender. No harshness, no more fight left in her. She was tired, and somehow, knowing he would be near made her feel a little better. Then again, he had tried to dig her up with intent to kill her while she rested. Satire had just been lucky to gain the element of surprise. Finally, moving away, she turned and faced him. " I shall meet you here when I rise. " With that she gave him a smile and stepped out of the church. He would not find her when she took her rest. After a few steps, the shadows claimed her and carried her away to her new sleeping place and as she settled into the earth and that dark rest finally took her, she had one thought on her mind. Just how much could she trust Axel?
 
So finally he had come to be here though he made no grand entrance. One minute he wasn't here, the next he was standing before a large likeness of Kellindil black pools studying it carefully, almost admiring it despite the lack of emotion painted on that snow white fleshed face. For those that knew whom he was, well then they knew who he was, however to those that didn't they would see a man of his late sixties perhaps a fraile man with long white locks flowing down to the middle of his back. Those that could sense his power would find it truly a joke if they did so now, he was nothing but a weak oldman.

Oh little did they know the powers that swelled within the Void, that endless oblivion that birthed him, fed him life, and so much more. His presence in the mortal realm alone threatened to tear the very fabric of reality, yet it did not and the pallid mortal husk that now turned it's back on the statue of Kellindil, directing attentions to more important things truly did look weak.

Bathed in the sweet bliss of nothingness the Void swirled about it's master content for now to be the material coverings of his living avatar. Tendrils lept this way and that snatching at the empty air as he moved over the pavestones with a soft click of his heels towards Sole Rakkor. Though Chaos showed no hint of his thoughts or feelings to betray him here and now in the public eye it was clear he was quite ready for a trap to spring, almost welcoming of it now as he set himself into the jaws of fate with little disregard for what would occur.

Even now as time passed his son Forge was readying his army, preparing his mortal gatherings for what was to come, but for now Chaos would go this game alone...he was not a man to step without knowing what he was stepping on.
 
Sole stood silently just after he appeared and Colvin turned to face Sole. Perhaps not facing him intentionally, but enough for Sole to cock a brow at him. Quickly his attention to Syn, acknowledging her nod, but not returning it. Watching as she continue to step closer, his eyes narrowing, but not aggressively. His eyes then turned to Colvin, this man, who's aura felted neutral, yet to Sole anyone he did not know, was a potential enemy.

He closely watched Colvin, not knowing the man, knowing if anyone would need more than reflex, it was him. Syn, owed him too much to strike, and the poor insane man, well, he was simply scribing on the monument. That's when he felt the tingling in his telepathic part of his mind. The message from a man, unknown to him, it was from Saar. Sole smirked.. indeed this calling was turning out to be interesting. Saar was calling as well, to meet with each of those old allies, Sole nodded to the request to meet, making a mental note and returning a message. "Where shall we meet?" he said telepathically to Prince. Eyes still locked on Colvin, his mind multi-functioning also reaching out to Treiya.. "Return to the Lost Souls Tavern & Inn, gather our forces, prepare them." he said.

He felt the presence of Scorn, not to far in the distance, Plague's presence now became one of sight. He awaited Chaos, he knew he was near, he felt his presence, just then, Chaos broke the void and appeared. Sole's eyes met with Chaos, a nod to a close friend, an old ally... war brothers. "Chaos," Sole paused "You finally arrive old friend.." Sole looking like a man in his early to mid 20's, fit, perfectly structured at a 6'2" height. It would seem hard to believe that Sole and Chaos were old friends, considering the age which Chaos form took.

Silently Sole stood again, his gaze turning back to Syn, eyes glinting at her, just before his gaze looked at Colvin and Plague. His aura still strong, gaining strength from all the energy being released by all these beings, his cloak fluttering with fierce madness, grasping at everything.

Fallen angel returns, Archangel Knight of Soth.

Far far in the lands of Dargaard Mountains, a small fire burned within the old Keep. Alone, silently Archangel, who failed to return the Knights to their glory, sat on the floor of the Great Hall, with the fire burning just in front of him. It was then he felt the presence of Scorn, he knew all to well that Gargauth was near. He was no magical man, not anymore. He had lost his source of power, which enabled him to use fire and earth to do his deeds.

This Archangel was a different man, he was a blade slinger now. He stood slowly, looking south toward the presence of Scorn, " I'm coming Scorn..." he said softly as he turned and headed toward the stairs that lead him to the seventh lair of the Keep, where the ritual room was, where he would try to rise death bringers, demons, trolls, goblins or any dark force that once served Lord Soth....
 
"A task has been set before us, incomplete from the days of old. It is time to end this procrastination, come to me, together we will bring this world to it's....knees..."

Thin lips never moved, his voice never broke the air, never boomed with the supremacy of The DarkTide but it was heard by all, by any who chose to open their minds, or let their thoughts wander. His message spanned the planes, the multiverse and the universe alike. An invitation to anyone and everyone. Those that stood before him, those that called to him from far off distances and those who never heard his name. The DarkTide began to draw his lines.

The Kellindil Monument was there, less than a hundred feet away, Sole had joined the fray, Chaos Rathma made his presence known and those that remained hidden never truly disguised theirself from The DarkTide, he saw all, he knew all. The environment was his biggest ally and it told him everytthing.
 
A ripple of magic would signal his arrival.

Appearing from the corridors of magic, a dark-robed figure steps forth from a tear in space and time. Judging on the appearance, torn dark robes and gaunt skeletal frame, it could only be the lich Lim-Dul...showing himself for the first time in a very, very long time.

However, something was about him. A strange blue tint about his person...and acompanying him, a chill not unlike that one would feel from a typical ice box.

As with his other detections, the actions and portents created by Gargauth's return had not gone unnoticed by the lich. Indeed, he eagerly sought to implement the next stage of his plan and acquire an audience with the god...yet all in good time.

"I have come Sole...let us depart this place quickly, return to some place more secure. Friends long past present themselves once more.... Truly, this is a great time.... But come-..."

Gesturing, the lich creates another gate off to places unknown.

"Accompany me if you will, old friend, and we will talk..."
 
Ripples from Beyond

A taint. There was a taint that swarmed through the crowded masses of Ayenee Capital City. It was present when a homeless man rose up unexpectedly from his home of rags and boxes and slaughtered a passing child, licked the blood of his hands, and then went back to sleep. It was there when a soldier tore the throat from his wife and then gave her jewels to his guard captain, and then embracied the other man in a disturbing kiss. It was there the hollows of abandoned buildings, looming quietly and strangely over dark lanes and forgotten alleyways.

The taint had always been there, brooding quietly in the dark. And the light. It saw no contrast, it was no sentient, but it was utterly blasphemous.

The taint was there in a small man, hooded in rags and tape and showing only two guant hands that scratched uncomfortably at strange bumps in its robe. This being stood nearby the Kellindil monument, not recognising the visage of the noble elf that had brought recognition to the land of Ayenee.

It stood there, unnoticed before now, in the square of madness and chaos, but it paid no heed that these creatures were any different from the ignorant peasants of the town, of the pristine fountains, of the dark homes. It could not comprehend.

The Void, the Warp, the Chaos. What did they know but a mere perception of themselves? Rathma was the child of the Void, but what could the Void be but his own perception of existance, or as he chose to know it, non-existance?

It could not now, did not wish to, and in reality, all of it was moot. The lower plains leaked here in the form of Scorn and the DarkTide, and something manifesting from the 'Mother Darkness' called itself Syn. Synful. It cared not for these things.

Yet in all of its ignorance, the thing in the rags turned a bit, as if in subtle recognition, when the Lich, Lim-Dul, made a brief appearence. Soemthing tugged at its repulsive folds for the Lich. Something called.

Within the rags, something bulged grotesquely, and the thing squatted forward and took a step. It became known in movement that the thing was horribly bent, far from the term 'humanoid', but it moved as if trying to impersonate something human. The thing begged notice, even if it cared or knew not of such things. It was here, maybe, for something. It could not know.

Its wretched twisted hands bent and twisted and clutched at its own 'chest', and the rags moved, and there for a moment radiated a soft reddish glow, and then it was gone.

From soemwhere on the wind, a small sound floated. A chant? A voice? It could not know. The thing joined in the chorus of the mad-man calling the song of Garguath.

"Ia...a...Az...toth...fh...agn...Cth...lu..."

It was hardly perceptible. Did it matter. It did not know. Could not know.
 
In the chambers of the eternal city of Dark Avalon a being existed of untold power, a terrible existence that scorned the very existence of man, a destroyer of faiths and treacheror of purity, his existence that of a hooded man, cloaked in darkness but radiating in red. Existing apon his form the symbol of Gargauth, The Hidden Lord, a broken animals horn glowing, radiating from his satin garbs. T'was in theese halls The Lord Who Watches watched, t'was in theese corridors The Hidden Lord hid, weaving his lies, his deceit, his ways unto those most unexpecting, biding his time, a time that would soon come to pass. The world would feel his web of treachery one more time.

The city of Dark Avalon had been reborn, risen from it's watery grave to a shambled ressurection, a ressurection that saw the entirity of The Hidden Lords focus on restoring it to it's former glory, a glory lost with the disappearance of powers such as he, but one individual remembered, one entity refused to forget, and one being would not let him rest, Lim-Dul.
Promised so much yet recieving so little, loyal even in the sagging of Gargauth's influence, calling him from the sanctuary of The Warp, peking his interest in the affairs of mortal man.

At the Kellindil Monument.

That chubby man, so old, so depressed, so insane, hallucinogenic. Power was something he could not grasp, not a lick of it's presence radiated from his persona yet he spoke, he preached, he praised The Hidden Lord. "He wants you..Lich..Go to...Dark Avalon..." He spoke, almost whisper-like extensions radiating from those sore encrusted lips.

There was no scream, no death on the air. just an extinguished life. Falling knee first before collapsing unto his face leaving a portal, not unlike the one Lim-Dul had created where he once stood preaching of things no mortal man should know. But the question was...what was on the other side?
 
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