No more heroes. I'm all you've got...
Upon the Island in the Mists, his power waned further still.
The Mists acted as a deterrent to those who would bring misery to her shores, and he found himself even further separated from the great power he had amassed over the centuries. That mattered less then one would think. Although a creature such as he grows accustomed to the significant advantages granted by said powers, he had spent as much time over the centuries of existence strengthening his innate potential.
In short order, he found the familiar castle he sought. It was not essential to his journey, but he counted centuries as mortals count the hours, and sometimes the happy memories were all he had. He strolled leisurely into the place, which was obviously uninhabited by the condition of the outside perimeter This served to astonished as he found the interior courtyard had been remarkably conserved by some kind souls. He stood in appreciation of the magnificent botanical gardens, lovingly crafted and maintained.
Then, he saw her.
The statue stood as proudly as ever, assumedly kept up and polished by the same kind souls who took care of the rose garden. Standing among the plot of rare blue roses was the monument to the Lady of the Lake as he had known her. He approached the statue hesitantly, eyes never leaving the countenance of beauty, though ever-vigilant of his milieu. She had been but a maiden when first they met in that tavern in Tenaria, he wondered what she was like now? He took to a knee and carefully plucked a blue rose.
As he walked out of the castle, the blue rose laid at the feet of the Lady; a testament that true love is never forgotten...no matter how tainted it may have become.
His journey took him next north. There, at the base of the Crescent Moon Mountains, stood the great stone Monastery. About the grounds, even in the dead of night, monks toiled in their labors. Maintenance and upkeep of such an imposing structure required meticulous and dedicated effort. He quietly passed by, offering a respectful nod to each monk that turned to do the same.
As he came upon the great entrance, a familiar face greeted him. ”Most Revered Elder." Shas gave a polite and formal bow, hands clasped before him. "You return here for shelter once again, Master Shas?" The old man's eyes smiled though his face remained as unreadable as ever. He stood just above five feet tall, but he carried himself in a manner so much larger then his person.
"No, Elder, I'm afraid not. I come seeking counsel." The eyes of Shas were weary, despite that the evening was still very much young. The Elder nodded, "We will speak further...come inside, Master Shas." He followed the Elder into the monastery and through the labyrinthine passage ways to the former chambers of Shas. Upon entering, he looked around. "Still looks the same..." said Shas, softly.
"We do not molest your quarters...you may return to us, some day, in need of them." The Elder smiled sadly, "May I get you anything? Perhaps some tea?" Shas gave a soft chuckle, "I see you haven't lost your sense of humor. No, thank you. I refreshed myself before I began this journey." The Elder nodded, "We are forever in your debt for bringing us to this Island. The Avalonians are so polite and helpful."
It was Shas' turn to nod, non-committal, "They are a good people." The Elder looked as if he was about to continue, but thought better of it. "So, what troubles you, Master Shas?" He sat on the floor in a lotus position and invited Shas to join him. Shas assumed the same posture and stated "I have done a grievous misdeed. I allowed a power-hungry lich to unleash a great darkness upon Ayenee."
"A darkness greater than yourself?" questioned the Elder before he gasped an inquired, "The Hidden Lord?" Shas met eyes with the Elder and nodded. "I was so foolish! So caught up in my own games that I underestimated the lich. I never thought he would succeed." The calmness and focus was very obviously gone from Shas, and the Elder nodded again, quietly.
"I do not know how to stop him, Elder. I do not know how to make this right." Shas closed his eyes and quietly listened to the soft, even breathing of the Elder. There was much quiet before the Elder finally sighed. "You never could accept your place, Master Shas." He placed a hand on Shas' shoulder. The Elder was one of the few that could touch him, unbidden.
"Once, you were a man, but that was a long time ago. That was taken from you and you accepted damnation in it's place. You spent countless centuries feeding on the life of others, until it was no longer enough. Then, again eschewing all that is light and life, you embraced your damnation and became something worse. You became the creature you are now, no longer content to feed upon the life of others as necessary, or to feed upon souls when you must. You are no longer simply corrupted, you are a force of corruption. Because of that, because you are the very evil that threatens all you know, you can not fight against it. I'm uncertain if you can do more than join those whom you despise. However, I know this: As long as you hold on to that power you so cherish, as long as you remain more than the vampire you were, nothing you do will truly harm that force that threatens Capital City."
Shas opened his eyes and met the peaceful stare of the Elder. "I didn't ask to become more than I was. I don't know that what you propose is even possible." The Elder looked to the floor. "It is possible...you need only will it to be so." The Elder rose to his feet. "I must return to my meditations, Master Shas. You are welcomed to remain here as long as you desire."
As the Elder left him behind, Shas sneered at himself. "Simply give up the power I earned? Why should I? What does that old fool know? I'm certain I could defeat the Hidden Lord and Scorn's forces with my power. I may even supplant them both! With their powers added to mine, I could rule the Multiverse!"
The words of the Elder rang in his mind just as he thought that.
He looked to his hands. Tears of blood welled up in his eyes and trailed down his cheek. He took to his knees from the lotus position and rose slowly. "Get thee behind me..." He said it internally, with all of the will he could muster...and something changed. Something within flowed out, like the pus of a lanced boil. It brought with it a sense of relief, but left an oddly gnawing ache.
It was in this moment, when he felt his weakest, that he almost gave in. e almost called out to that force not to leave him. He felt...empty. Maybe incomplete, like he had just lost something so precious to him. He was hungry...for blood. Not for souls or for the power within them...simple blood. That's when he knew that he, once again, was simply a vampire.
He had not lost his knowledge of the arcana, nor any of the other things he had learned before or since...but much of his power was gone. He was...limited. But he felt a sense of peace. Well, at least, more-so then when he craved power and souls constantly. The dull ache of the blood hunger was still there, and the emptiness of ever-present damnation had returned, but he felt...good.
He left the monastery quietly in the hours before dawn. When he was on the other side of the Mists, he had no entrance. Now that he was here, he could leave anytime he was ready He took the pocket spell book out and flipped through the pages. It would be a bother acclimating to using this thing for some of his works, but that was the price of fighting the darkness: sacrificing the power it offered.
At his behest, the dimensional door rippled into existence, yawning like some invisible giant's mouth. He stepped through and found himself back at his residence in Capital City. Walking over the closet, he reached in and withdrew a belted holster with the well-maintained Peacemaker it held, and checked the cylinder.
Fully loaded. Snapping it back into place, he holstered the weapon and retrieved a Bag of Holding from within the same closet. He threw several boxes of ammunition in, along with his flute crafted of obsidian. He stepped out into the streets, where panicked people still darted along. There were looters breaking into the buildings that looked like they were owned and maintained by humans. He calmly proceeded in the direction everyone else was running from.
As he passed an alleyway, he heard a woman scream from within and followed the noise, drawing his sword-cane from it's shaft. He expected to see some demon ravaging her, but it was simply some foolish man trying to force himself on her. He was rambling about how he was going to "get lucky as much as he could before the end of the world..." Shas sheathed the blade quietly and walked up on the man in silent grace. He grasped him from behind, single-handedly, and held him aloft.
Flashing a fang-filled maw at the would-be violator, he spoke harshly "Looks like it's my turn to get lucky..." With that, Shas tore into the man's throat. His screams sounded like the woman, until he had lost the resolve to continue as Shas drank him dry. The man was flung him into a wall with a sickening thud just before Shas approached the blubbering, quivering lass. She looked to be in her early 20s. Her make-up was ruined and she was half-naked, her clothes torn in haste. She was clearly terrified.
Upon his approached, she started flailing and screaming. Shas began shushing her, calmingly, and placing his ice-cold hands on her in a gentle way. Then she met his eyes and he crushed her will. No mucking about...simple as that. She was in his thrall. She stood and came the rest of the way to him, seemingly unbidden, and brushed the hair from over her shoulder. She tilted her head side-ways and offered her neck. The fang-filled maw reverted to the more traditional elongated incisors, and Shas took her. He drained her softly, carefully, almost lovingly. She probably never noticed her death coming and crossed over, peacefully.
Exiting the alleyway, he proceeded along in the direction of the Kellindil Monument. At this distance it seemed to be nothing more then a plume of dark smoke and airborne vrocks, along with a kaleidoscope of vile energies.
[Edit: To be continued in the new, active Calling post, "Astaroth's March".]