The Rise of the Serpent

[Vaticus]

His heart knew only hatred; infused with the powers of chaos itself, he was thrust into a state of dementia rivaled by none. It was this dangerous mixture that lead to his ultimate undoing. Time had lost it's sense of meaning long ago; it seemed like a millenia, but in reality he'd only been in exile for a few years - enslaved by the magics he once used to bring the entire kingdom of New Avalon to its knees. His unrelenting, insatiable thirst for both blood, and revenge, were all that sustained him - he'd long since evolved beyond the need for humanly proteins and nutrients; although even the thought of fresh brains teased his senses - his cannibalism becoming more of a hobby, than a means of survival.

Lord Darglore, it is time, the Faceless has collected the weapon, he waits for us in the ruins.

He struggled to his feet, his legs felt wobbly; akward even, like a child's first lumbering steps. "Oh, has he?" His voice trembled, and faltered. Hardly the harsh, commanding tone that once demanded the respect of even Kings. He stood naked, caked in dirt, and reeking of decayed flesh. Lifting a mud-caked hand, he swept tangled locks of greasey blackness away from his soiled visage. "And the other... where is Darren? An obvious degree of concern was apparent in his voice. Even though Darren Darglore had been indirectly responsible for his untimely downfall.

"He has proven rather elusive. Our numbers dwindle; our standing legion is but a shadow of its former glory. We haven't the manpower to persue these endeavors you've set upon us."


His jaw tightened as his teeth clenched. He felt weak, frail.. broken. He turned slowly, struggling to maintain his own weight, regardless of how slight it was. Facing the other, his eyes were lifeless, devoid even of anger. There was only blackness. You've failed me, conjurer. Ten years ago, I would have raped your wife and slaughtered your children as punishment. He staggered forward, moving closer to the robed figure he'd been conversing with, "You say we lack manpower? --We shall call upon the other three." He seemed almost reluctant to spew out that last bit; a look of concern washing over his dirty features.

"But my Lord... the Faceless alone is more than we are able to control, should we free the others, what's to stop them from destroying us? Certainly you realize what we've done - in freeing you, we've also freed them from their debt to us - such beasts cannot be trusted!

He coughed, and sputtered.. hissing forth a raspy chuckle from his diseased lungs. "Conjurer, we need not trust them.. and soon... soon, we need not fear them, either. They will serve their part, then kneel before me, or be dealt with accordingly." He turned then, setting his gaze upon what was left of his home - the tower of Golgotha; place of bones. This unholy land would serve as foothold for his invasion. He lifted weak arms, extended to either side; his head tilting back as his eyes rolled into his battered skull, "Today, my friend - the great day of our vengeance is upon us; we've a false God to destroy, and a civilization to enslave - no longer are we bound to obey this false deity. Vaticus Darglore has fallen, the true Hidden Lord has risen from his ashes ... contact the Faceless, tell him to proceed upon the Ruins of Pelevran; ravage any villages along the way - burn them until their soil is rendered dead and useless; their water sour and stagnant. Make their suffering of legendary status; enslave the children; drink from the elderly - impreginante their women - we shall build an "army", indeed.


The banner flapped atop his broken tower; visible to all of Ayenee from its mountaintop perch. Vaticus Darglore, the true Hidden Lord, is free. Gargauth, the false God felt a very unknown feeling - the chill that ran up his spine.


(Basically, Vaticus is back, he's gone crazy in exile, And he thinks he's the true Hidden Lord. Expect more about the "Faceless", as well as the "Three" in my next installment, which I plan to get out as soon as I can. Sorry for the sloppyness of the post, still getting used to the codes for the board.)

 

[Lord Scorn DarkTide]

Darren Darglore

He was on old man, aged beyond the mortal perception of a warrior, but he was a Darglore, the last remaining mortal of his bloodline, and after the slaying of his own brother the last remaining member of that great warrior family.

As horrid as the thought may be, his family being dead was welcomed, saddening but welcomed for Vaticus needed to be purged from the lands, that evil was a scourge to not only his lineage but the very balance of life itself. His brother no longer resided with in that shell. His brother was...dead.

And so he entasked himself with ensuring it stayed that way, a task he was doomed to fail from the beginning of it's set.

Gnarled locks of curled grey hair slapped the side of wrinkled flesh, his cheeks rosey and cold. The unseasonabley harsh climate of Southern Ayenee's provinces proved to be troublesome, even worrying. Something was not right, one event in a hundred that plagued him since that night, the night his family died, the night his brother came home.

Visions skewered his thoughts, naturally psychic this proved ten fold over. He woke in the night cold in sweats. He saw his brother standing over his bed, he saw his brother in the faces of the dead, in the faces of the children and man. But his brother was dead, killed by Darren himself, he saw...his brother die.

Troubled as well as irritated, not only by the visions and dreams, but the unreasonabley harsh climate of theese autumn months he tied those loose strands of hair back and continued on, sandaled feet digging into the dry clay-like dirt.

"We can hope for the best but in theese troubled times the best never comes. We can expect the worst but then we've already failed."

Those words were meant as a double edged knife, he used them often enough on others to give them hope, to help them think on a positive note with out fibbing in the manners of ensuring everything would be okay. Never did he expect to use them on himself, but now he did. Those words were issued with the un-easy feeling of his brother breathing down his neck. He felt him again, his brother much the same sensation as the night Vaticus returned home, the night Vaticus murdered his wife and children, the night Darren Darglore sent Vaticus to the other side.

In the distance Darren saw shelter, a small town with a big name. He's heard stories of a tavern here, where he might be able to drudge up information. The Forgotten Eclipse Tavern and Inn, where adventurer's from all across Ayenee make their pass through for a cot and ale. Perhapse the owner or a tender might have heard a story or two?

(Post continued here in the town http://newayenee.org/forum/showthread.php?p=7659#post7659 )