Blood runs thicker than water. (substory of A Calling.)

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(Pulled from A Calling, posted by Vaticus)

The harsh, unforgiving weather outside seemed to rock the tinty candle-lit cabin; causing nervous children to huddle closer together, gazing up curiously at an eldery man seated in a rocking chair. The old man seemed at a loss for words, at the moment - still his story maintained the undivided attention of the youngsters. He often told scary stories on such nights, but none as terrifying as this tale of a beast that their grandfather claimed once stalked this very forest. Reaching towards a small table at the rocking chair's side; he placed a wrinkled hand upon a charred, ancient looking chest of some sort. Eventually, he opened the chest... withdrawing the sheet of black silk that encased the treasure within. Clenching the object, he lifted it with a sense of fear, rather than concern for its age. The object, apparently, was a large portion of a skull. It appeared human, for the most part - the children reacting with a chorus of gasps as the aged story teller held the cruel relict up. Strangely, the skull seemed to house a set of fangs which seemed to be forged of steel; highly polished and dangerously sharp. Steel fangs.. like the creature in the story.



There was only blackness; notions such as 'time' had no meaning. Long since succumbing to the powers that once surged through his blackened heart; he'd paid dearly for his sins against man - swallowed into a watery grave with the rest of his wicked oblivion. It was of no matter to him, for without the watchful eye of Gargauth, he was a beast uncaged; carving an ungoverned swath of destruction across the lands while succumbing to the downward spiral of madness that came hand-in-hand with the powers he once possessed, or possessed him, some might argue. It'd all begun with that blasted priestess that'd managed to seduce him into betraying his master - feeding his hungry imagination horrible lies of deceit and favortism cast to others over he. His betrayal had been forgiven, and redeemed just the same, having sworn himself to the task of obliterating the fabled Avalon, and drinking from the blood of Alysera herself. Such thoughts lead to a storm of hatred thrashing through his warped mind; burning stronger as the decades passed. He knew he would be summoned eventually. He heard the drums of war pounding in the distance. He could taste the power that damned him - oh, how he lusted for it.

Somewhere, in a darkened corner of a dirty Tavern; his piercing stare could be felt tearing asunder the otherwise peaceful state of mind of some random drunk. Soon, he would be powerful enough to step forth from the darkness that mothered him, and finish his task of bringing the realm of Ayenee to its knees; blanketing it beneath the wicked banner of the Hidden Lord. Fueled by his hatred, he felt stronger as each day passed, knowing the time would soon be at hand. Others would rise with him; the great day of his wrath would soon be at hand.
 
Darren Darglore

Head lowered, staring at the floorboards. Those memories haunted, they haunted his sleep, his moments awake, his meditations, they haunted his very core, Vaticus Darglore. Brother, family monster.

Aged in his years, an old man grey hair cascaded across his face yet never allowed to grow wild, wrinkled facial features served to only portray more how truly old he was, and yet in all theese years he never lost his single greatest treasure. The Luminex, a unique green stone faceted apon a rune enscribed adamantite staff, a weapon of good intent, and purity.

A mortal who saw sites not fit for the eyes of his kin, of his brethren race. Aged before his time from the hardships of his lineage, of his bloodline, of his own family. A family of wealth, heritage and beliefs, all but one. Vaticus Darglore. The hated, the loved Vaticus Darglore.

Through closed eyes he saw the rage, the insanity in that monsters eyes, the gleam of those metallic spikes, the loosing of his own blood beneath that beasts bite, scars still remained from that fateful night. The night his brother came home, the night his wife and children died, the night he lost his last remaining brother.

He still remembered the feel, the sting of his brothers touch, the sensation of that poisoned saliva coarsing through his veins, the asphyxiation of death taking him from this world of torment and pain. But as is human nature he refused, he refused to die. Wrapped in his brothers embrace, cold and waining, mortal shell crying something happened. To this very day he can not describe it, but something happened, something saved his life.

Perhapse it was a moment of compassion in that beasts eyes, his brothers dying breaths, the taste of his blood loosing itself into his gullet but the beast, that monster, his brother stopped, his brother stared just long enough for the Luminex to taste this demons flesh, to relish in this monsters blood, to pierce Vaticus Darglore's heart, just long enough to hear his screams, a chorus of the brothers pain. Darren Darglore and Vaticus Darglore the last of their kin, the end of that infamous bloodline.

Jaded green exploded from every pore of that monster, leaving him a shocked, predator hanging, nay falling with his own brothers limp physique to the wooden floor beneath. Vaticus was impaled, Darren was dying. Breaths becoming longer between. And yet Vaticus struggled, through the pain, through the cleansing of this beasts wickedness he struggled, inch long claws wrent the wood from it's nailed pasteur as he narrowed the distance created, the space between his defenseless brother and this genocidal monster. But the space would never be closed. Through insanity risen eyes Vaticus stared in homicidal determination, and through his own blurring vision Darren saw what could only be surmised as thanks. Vaticus was no more. All that remained was a bloodless, fleshless skull tipped with metallic incisors, the very same skull Darren Darglores father, Vaticus Darglores father displayed to theese children. The evil purged from this world by the Luminex.

Reminiscing of those moments brought him no closer to the justification of what he had done, he killed his own brother, and through nothing less than a nod to the children and silent recognition between himself and his father he was excused from the crowd of story time, from this mansion they called home, into the darkness that was the night.

In the deapths of the Darglore estates catacombs there lies a monument, a tomb fit for a king, where the departed of his family rest in peace, his daughter Alexis, his son Jared, his wife Alyssa and his brother Vaticus' bodiless grave, destroyed so viciously on the night his brother came home. It was there, with the Luminex lain before him that he fell to his knees, and through sobbing breaths began to pray.

"My wife, beautiful Alyssa I grow old and weak, my son Jared, my daughter Alexis...I am sorry you never got to see the pleasures this world can offer..I will join you soon, I promise."

Silence...

"My brother Vaticus, I grow old and want, I want to know I am forgiven.."
 
Amara Hellsend

“Kill them all..” That was the only word she spoke right before the door of this cozy cabin would be broken down and demons in armor would rush inside. The bloody screams and cries for help were enough to bring a smile to her face. A few locks of red hair fell in her face as she glanced down towards the mount she sat atop, waiting idly for her men to finish their duties and bring to her what she so desired. She had only been in town a few days before the stories had reached her. It was said that an old man had the skull of a demon, a name that they dare not speak, with steel fangs and a tale to be told. It took some, persuasion, but after a few hours she had gained the entire story and decided it was her duty to help this poor lost soul. Her attentions were brought back to the tasks at hand however as a child rushed towards her, screaming for help, blood covering her lovely little face.

“Please, please help me!” The girl was in tears, gasping for breath at the horrors she had witnessed. Curling her fingers around the reins that controlled her horse Amara simply looked at the girl with an empty gaze, emotion lacking upon her pretty features. Suddenly a smirk crossed her lips and all at once the girl beside her was scooped up and tossed over a hefty shoulder, sobbing and screaming. Amara chuckled to herself and leaned back in her saddle, watching as one of her five men carried the poor little girl back in font of the cabin. All at once the sobbing ended, the screams were silenced, and only the smell of death graced the once cozy little cabin.

Reaching up Amara slid back a few strands of red hair, bright green eyes swirled with a hint of crimson, showing her true nature beneath this mortal flesh. A beast of a man draped in metal armor approached her, holding out a small leather bound chest and lowering his head in submission. Giggling almost she reached out and snatched it from him, a grin gracing her alluring features as she flipped the lid open and reached inside. The steel fangs were the first thing to catch her attention, then the rest of the details were taken in at she glared in to the empty eye sockets. “Vaticus..so lovely to meet you..” Chuckling under her breath she carefully placed the skull back inside its protective case and placed it between her hips and the horn of her saddle. She had collected a rather important artifact, how important was not yet known, but nothing a little research wouldn’t help. She had no idea what terror lie ahead..
 
Darren Darglore

"What treachery is this?" spoken to noone but himself, notations to an aged mans voice, fingers grasping, touching stiffening against the shaft of his beacon of light, his guide in this land of darkness and doom. Luminex.

Clouded eyes grew distant, watching events unfold from the safety of this crypts haven, theese catacombs beneath the very mansion this mysterious woman hath invaded. He saw the destruction wrought by theese creatures, the torment of children and men, women slaughtered or taken to captivity. His heart grew heavy.

Clenching, the time for touching and grasping were done. Knuckles whitened beneath pressure, the pressure of that inhuman grip, wrought by disappointment and frustration, anger.

'This is not right! My days of battle are in the past! In my past! I can't...fight...' Those thoughts echoed in his head, his mind over and over

"Why..." whispered to himself, with words cut short, disturbances in the dark, in the shadows of his safe haven. A survivor? He watched, waited and hoped.

That hideous cry reverberated through out the catacombs, that scream of pain and anguish, he felt it in the very core of his soul, in the sinking of his heart. In this moment of impure torment he felt it rise, something he hoped he would never feel again, something he thought he had lost forever, the influence of his brother. "Vaticus..."

Twisted against reality, struck through space. The Luminex came from above, from the side and below. It's wielder the prophet psionist Darren Darglore. The harsh adaptation of it's shaft leveling this creatures head, caving in the side of it's skull and splitting it's rib cage if only to bring this minion of his estates attackers to it's knees, and finally it's stomach, a creature that had somehow discovered him. T'was only then that Darren truly rose from his knealt postion Luminex in hand, this warrior of light's projection fading from existance, skin slightly reddening as once hazel eyes took on a more sinister tone of pinkish red.

"But I must.." And one step was issued towards the tombs that held his family, fading from existence, from this plane of power to the next and back again. But his entry would not be welcomed, unlike the old man listening to the story of his brother he was unleashed. Fists ignited in dripping, licking inferno, steam rose from his very flesh as the blood beneath boiled, breath smelled of cinder and Luminex struck the ground where he stood, signalling to all the judgement he would deliver, to theese sinners their time of reckoning hath arrived.

He was to late, the children were gone, the men slaughtered, his father lie dying, dying at his feet. Silence exhausted the air, consumed by the flames of the pyrokinetic, the prophet psionist who stood bewildered over his fathers body, fell to his knees and through extinguishing flames pulled his father to his chest, embracing that man of warmth and compassion, a man who deserved better than this, a man who who was destine to die in his own sons arms.

Tears couldn't be formed, evaporated before they even felt flesh, his face, consumed behind the eyes they formed of. His father said nothing, breaths were non existant, his lungs pierced, wheezing sounds were the last vocal architects of that old mans lips before he died, but that time was all Darren needed, all the time he needed to experience his fathers last moments on this earth, see and feel what happened.

Quivering lips fell against his fathers shoulders, closed eyes mourning against theese last remaining moments. He said nothing, words failing to form. his father was dead, he was now alone, his attachment to this prime material plane deceased, the last remaining Darglore, Darren Darglore had nothing, his wife, his kids, his brother and now his father...are all dead..

He felt the fury, the rage, the hurt welling with in. He felt his father flesh sizzle, cooking beneath his embrace, he felt the floor moulding to his knees and feet before nearby curtains caught a flame, he witnessed the walls igniting in the sorrow he felt. The Darglore Mansion would burn, it would die as did the Darglore name, for the last remaining heir of that name ventured towards certain death. Her image, the picture of his fathers murderer engraved into his very soul, he would never forget, and he would never forgive.

The buning mansion, his memories, his life now lie in his past. An old man with nothing to lose, nothing to live for emerged from this inferno's door. Luminex acting as a cane, his guide in the land of misery and loss.
 
The Discarded Darglore
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Twilight fell upon the singed and blackened orchard outside the Darglore estate; stale silence had fallen over the grounds since the night of the fire months prior. This night was different. This night, something stirred in the shadows, or rather it seemed as though the shadows themselves were coming to life. They churned and shifted beneath an ancient oak, a figure emerging from within.

Moonlight revealed the image of a still somewhat youthful male. Onyx hair stood straight up on his head as he gazed around the orchard with emerald eyes.

"How long has it been since I walked this plane?" he whispered to himself.

The man strode through the orchard at a leisurely pace, seeming to reminisce, as the shadows which formed his portal, now shifted and flowed behind him like a trail of a cloak. His trip down memory lane was cut short, his gaze shifting to where the mansion should lie ahead. No lights shown through windows, no flames flickered. Emerging through the trees he saw why; the once great mansion lie in ashes consumed by a blistering inferno.

His face remained emotionless as he marched through the ruins; despite the lack of walls he knew the layout flawlessly. Occasionally he would crouch resting a hand bearing 6 fingers (seemingly a "birth defect"), on the stone floor, now grotesquely melted together instead of the once smooth tiles that existed when last he visited. As he did this, his eyes glittered with a malevolent green light; Images of the events that transpired flashed through his mind.

Images of the priestess who seduced his brother (though for a moment he stopped to admire and praise the success of her technique); His brothers fall from the grace of the Hidden Lord; The death of his brother Vaticus by his own brothers weapon; Images of his very 'father' displaying his son's skull to a group of trembling children; The red haired woman commanding a battalion of fiends ransacking the estate leaving carnage in their wake; Darren's grief consuming the remains of the slain along with their home; And last, Darren's deep-seeded fear that Vaticus hunts for him.

"So this is what has come to pass..." he muttered.

Rising back to his feet, he stalked towards what was once a rear room of the mansion. The animated shadows of his cloak reached forth as an extension of his being, retching loose a trapdoor made of stone leading to the catacombs below.

Descending below, his skin shifted from a pale, yet normal tone, to a shining black like polished obsidian, his eyes retained the glowing green light they had when he was gazing into the past.

He entered the burial chamber gazing about taking in the final resting place of Darren's wife and children, and the empty grave of Vaticus. Rage filled his heart, and mind. He stepped up upon the empty sarcophagus and down into Vaticus' grave.

"Dear brother... Derrik's home." The words escaped his lips as a mere whisper.

Playing on Darren's fear, and knowing full well that he can mask his identity from Darren's psionics, with the exception that it is a sibling, Derrik summoned the image of his departed brother to his mind and cast it forth to seek his surviving brother, Darren, the kin slayer. Yes, Darren would know it was a message from a sibling, but having long forgotten the 'Discarded Darglore', having thought him dead, and being an image of Vaticus, Derrik surmised Darren would be equally convinced and tormented.

Steel fangs clamped down as they spit forth a warning in Darren's mind.

"Forgiveness shall not be granted... your judgment comes."

A conniving smile played across Derrik's face as the shadows of his cloak wrapped themselves around him, submerging him once again into the shadow realm, his preferred method of travel.

"Now to find this red haired huntress and recover my brother's skull" he thought, as the shadows consumed him.

He disappeared into the darkness, only the glowing green of his eyes remained, and in an instant... they too were gone.
 
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