Dark Jack

The Prophecy

Angora and Jaelnec should totally have to share a horse. Make it happen Jack! XD

@Legion X51

Now you're actually trying to kill him. This is a guy that was very recently kicked pretty hard in the groin... I suspect riding - even without sharing a mount with Angora - would be fairly uncomfortable on its own.

Anyway, with the last exam of the semester out of the way I can finally get to do the fast-forward I was supposed to do a week ago. How many horses does the group have by now, though? I think I lost track somewhere along the way...

The Prophecy

Also @Dark Jack, could we get The Viper and his apprentice on the front OOC page with the rest of the characters? It'd be helpful so I don't have to keep going back in the pages to read the character sheet every time I have a question. (For your convenience: Viper's CS)

@Rhaevnn Xeno

Done.

Should probably also have fast-forwarded the scene by the road (which is part of why it took so long to write such a short post), but wanted to make sure everyone agreed that it was time first, and figure out how far ahead I'll be skipping.

The Prophecy

The Duchy of Zerul, by a road in the southwest

“Thanks,” Jaelnec issued a blanket-statement for everything Angora did and said just then as he accepted the hat she was trying to hand him. Rocks in the mud? What a hilariously practical concern, given the absurdity of the situation... but of course, simply getting dressed immediately rather than isolating oneself first was also the practical decision, and evidence in his mind that the practical approach was not always the best one.
He had not even finished brushing the dirt off his hat before it started raining, and the squire closed his eyes, heaving yet another sigh as he wondered whether it was too late to decide to drown in the mud.
“Yeah, let’s go.”

“Spirits, what happened to you? How did you get this bad without even drawing your sword?”
Surprised, Jaelnec quickly looked down and realized that his left hand had seized the opportunity to grab the hilt of his sword while he had been distracted, and that his thumb was once more caressing the pommel.
It’s nothing, he thought, turning his face skyward and closing his eyes to let the rain wash away as much mud as possible and cool his still-hot face. I didn’t mean to let you in.
“I’m sorry, but... are you sure you don’t need me? Last time it was this much of a mess in here was back while you were still traveling with Annabelle. I can barely even make sense of your feelings right now, only... they’re directed at the girl with the sword? Angora.”
I’m fine. He clenched his jaw angrily, contemplating simply letting go of his sword and cutting the connection to Roct instantly.
“So confusing... You’re angry with her, but also don’t care about her... and... oh! You want to mate with –”
His hand abruptly jolted away from the handle of his sword as he made a grimace, suddenly more desperate to remove Roct from his thoughts than ever before.

Zerul City, I’onriyi’s estate

It was an immense relief to Nimbus and Male’dai when Ion’riyi seemed to change the subject rather than dismiss them over their limited abilities, less because of their desire to join him on his – apparently impending – next adventure, and more because neither of them wanted Nimbus to offer the last real ace in her sleeve as an option. The angel did not like keeping secrets from good people and would probably mention it eventually, but she just did not want the penin to base her value or his plans on an ability that she desperately wanted to avoid overusing but technically remained intact even without her own body.
It was fortunate that Ion’riyi was not more familiar with the lore on archangels than he was, or he might have realized that they all possessed the ability to seize a second soul... to absorb magical energy around them and reuse it for themselves. That and her divine hand had been the primary means by which she had been able to hold off True Purity for as long as she had, but she also knew that each time she used that power, there was a chance that she would expend Male’dai – her feeble mote of a soul – as well. That was how she was sustaining her, after all: by keeping her soul inside herself. It was a bizarre situation, really; Male’dai’s body outside Nimbus’ soul, Nimbus’ soul outside Male’dai’s soul. Layers of identity and vulnerability.

She did not know what to comment on his mention of the two “unsavory” characters Ion’riyi was apparently considering the companionship of, but she was sure that if he was willing to accept them, she would have no reason to object. The prospect of allowing Male’dai to sleep, however, was one that brought an expression of concern to the deigan’s face.
“Sleeping isn’t Male’dai’s issue,” Nimbus told him gravely, hesitantly accepting the cup of tea he had just prepared for her. “She knows of at least several sedatives that could probably force her body to fall asleep if I simply refrained from negating them, none of which would be too difficult to obtain the ingredients for. The problem is that even if she slept, immortals can’t enter your Spirit Realm... in other words, she can only enter the Spirit Realm if I release her, and if I release her she will dissipate and become a specter. Even if she, against all odds, managed to find her way to the Spirit Realm, there would be no way of guaranteeing that she would be able to find her way back. She could die or...” She paused, trying to remember what Male’dai had theorized.
The deigan reminded her, and Nimbus nodded grimly. “Or worse, end up trapped in a perpetual nightmare.”

Nimbus did not drink her tea immediately – something she supposed was a wise decision, given how even the comparatively durable penin winced from drinking his magically cooled cupful – but simply held it in her hands for the time being, relishing the warmth of the brew seeping into her hands and enjoyed the fragrance. After a moment she noticed that the cubes of sugar had not completely dissolved yet and casually stuck a finger from her divine hand into the tea and started stirring it. It would be a rather odd sight for Ion’riyi – as Male’dai pointed out – not only that the tea started stirring itself, but that there formed a finger-shaped hole into the liquid where the invisible extremity displaced the tea.
I swear, I’ll never get used to that third hand of yours... it feels really weird.

“Male’dai’s abilities?” Nimbus mused, taking a moment to filter through her host’s thoughts before actually attempting to answer the question. She smiled warmly, her expression speaking of a kindness of such purity that it seemed to contrast with her red eyes and black feathers. “She describes herself as ‘barely adequate’, but she has studied and practiced magic for nearly twenty years, so I suspect that she’s being modest. She could reliably memorize over a dozen spells at once, depending on the complexity of the spells, and had a remarkably steady hand. Her magical reserves were great enough that she could single-handedly summon a greater immortal, which in itself is fairly impressive, I think, even if doing so would have drained her completely. She also has some practice with alchemy and had just started studying enchanting, but she regards both of those fields as little more than pastimes.”
She shrugged. “I suppose that her knowledge and pronunciation of the arcane language was also passable, mostly, though it’s hard for me to judge that fairly given that I’m fluent in it.”

The Prophecy

Ah. Well, not quite; they can all be considered instances of the entire curse - that is, the "curse" is the same in all of them - but with varying levels of potency.

And just because I realized I hadn't actually commented on it, feeding doesn't produce a high as such. It's instinctively soothing to a vampire to do so, but beyond sating their hunger and temporarily dulling the troubles of their minds (and replenish their power) it doesn't particularly do much. It doesn't induce a state of ecstasy or anything. It's more about instinctual and physical need than psychological addiction.
I can imagine Morgan needing to feed more frequently than most vampires, though, what with him opting to be active during the day and such. Even if he's protecting himself from sunlight as much as possible, it's impossible to block it out completely and still be able to see. Given how extremely lethal sunlight is to Prophecy-vampires, the drain of sustaining himself through days like that would probably quicken his hunger.

The Prophecy

And now I'm wondering if eating, say, the hearts of two dozen unrelated twelfth-generation vampires would be somewhat cumulative, and make one closer to eleventh or lower generation vampire, or just comparable to the most powerful one of the two dozen.

@Shienvien

Sadly it would not be cumulative, no. The vampiric curse isn't something tangible wherein adding more curse results in a stronger curse (otherwise two vampires could just sit down and start drinking each others' blood to create infinite reinforcement of the curse). Rather than look at the vampiric curse as many separate entities each existing in different individuals, it would be more correct to view it as a singular entity that manifests in many individuals to a different degree. The curse can't add itself on top of itself, but a more powerful instance of the curse will replace a weaker instance of it.

The Prophecy

Ah, so you've used him before... that's why the name felt mildly familiar. Hmm... can't say that I remember, exactly, but the name does evoke some kind of response in me, so he must have made an impression.

There isn't really a lot about the history of vampires in the Compendium at the moment, mainly (if we're being honest) because there's still a ton of things I haven't written entries on for there, but also because it's just not very well-known. The original vampires and the first several generations of derivatives suffered from a crazy need for blood, but were also ridiculously powerful... although due to the way the curse dilutes, the power diminished quickly. (The dilution of the vampiric curse, to recap, causes a portion of the power of the curse to fail to transfer equal to one divided by the vampire's generation. The originals had the full power of the curse; the second generation lost 1/2 of the originals power; the third generation lost 1/3 of the second generation's power; the fourth generation lost 1/4 of the third generation's power, and so on) The original vampires were insanely powerful, to the point of near-invincibility. Barely anyone remembers because they've been gone for millennia, but in their time there were those among the original vampires that were worshiped as deities.
It may be worth noting, too, that just because someone belongs to one generation of vampires, one doesn't have to stay in that generation. Even if one was turned by someone of the twelfth generation and as such become a thirteenth generation vampire, if that vampire was to obtain the blood of a second generation vampire, they'd become a third generation one instead.
Somewhat more obscurely (and grotesquely), it's possible to avoid the dilution entirely. The dilution happens because the vampiric curse is rooted in the vampire's heart and only a portion of it permeates their blood; thus, eating another vampire's heart would make one the same generation of vampire as the one you ate.

The Prophecy

Brow's Rest. It's a rural little place with a population of around two hundred and a fairly average prosperity. Each property is generally surrounded by a short fence of either wood or stone, but they have no common fortifications for the settlement as a whole. They mostly deal in hunting, but also have a few orchards of apples and drakehorn, some fields of barley and a few herds of livestock, mainly pigs and cattle. The place is well-irrigated and surrounding areas are mostly deforested.
EDIT: Might also do to mention that the guards there are mostly militia, simply overseen by a couple of actual guardsmen. As such, most of their equipment is somewhat sub-par, and only the guardsmen would wear uniforms (tabards).
EDIT 2: It is also the fief of one middling noble named Baron Luxin, if that's important.

The Prophecy

Oh right, you did ask about that. Hmm... the only village I recall being placed on the map (in current time) that meets that criteria would be Borstown, really... and one in Wenal that has significantly more guards than that, though it's also more of a town than village. I suppose Borstown is, too. Eh. Time to get out the map.
(It's always hard to just pick one when you're told you can put it anywhere...) Seclyr, a few miles west of the Sloth's River and couple of dozen miles from the coast, there's a village called Brow's Rest that should have about the right amount of guards. Is that adequate?

There's a lot of circumstance and subjectivity when it comes to when vampires need to feed. On one hand, they start to feel hungry long before it even starts to weaken them, and this hunger only grows as their weakness progresses. It also depends on how one even defines "need" in the first place, since while yes, vampires weaken the longer they go without blood and eventually cease functioning altogether, but they will never truly starve to death. Even a vampire that has starved for a long time - or been bled dry, for that matter - doesn't die from it, but rather is reduced to a dormant, shriveled state in which they might as well be dead, but can still be revived if someone was to siphon blood into them somehow (not nightwalker blood, obviously; dormant or not, that's still toxic to them).
And even beyond that, it depends on how well they feed (that is, how much blood they actually drink each time), how active they are and if they've lost any blood (it also depends to a lesser degree on the vampire's physical size, but this is a minor factor and usually be ignored). Though it's hardly important with modern vampires like Morgan, it also depends somewhat on which generation of vampire one is from, in proportion to the power of the curse. As with their powers, the curse is so diluted in modern vampires that the difference is negligible, but in the first few generations the difference was quite noticeable, and the original vampires needed many times what their lesser kin needed, to the point where they would need to drain several people fully each day just to stave off their hunger... which is a major reason that they're gone now.
But... a typical vampire that refrained from strenuous activity (which is to say any activity that would require their vampirically enhanced properties) can probably go a couple of weeks from draining one victim, and at least several days from a mere few mouthfuls. If they use their vampiric powers heavily, they'll start to get hungry in but several days from a full feeding, and likely just a day's time for a partial one. And if one has been wounded... well, depending on the severity of the wound that might cut one or more days off that time, and can even bring them to the brink of starvation in mere moments.
(Partial feedings are rare due to vampire's instinctual desire to keep feeding once they've started, but it's technically possible with enough discipline. The way it's usually accomplished is by draining blood into a container than the vampire can feed from, since it puts a step between "feeding" and "continue feeding" that gives them a chance to stop themselves.)

The Prophecy

The Duchy of Zerul, by a road in the southwest

It was somehow kind of funny, contemplating how a different perspective could make a person reevaluate their plans for their future, and how just a single event could make someone question their own existence. Jaelnec found that lying flat on his stomach with his face buried in gooey mud was educational in and by itself. In the mud the sun did not shine in his eyes, no one expected anything from him and girls did not simply disrobe right in front of him. It was cold, clingy and suffocating, but the mud accepted him unconditionally.
Outside he could hear Angora, asking whether he was “all right”. Both from the question and her tone he surmised that she was not, in fact, angry at him. He could not reply, of course, since his lips were currently squeezed shut by the thicker, harder layer of mud beneath the malleable upper layer... and even if they had not been, it was not as though he could actually draw a breath to form into words. On the other hand, he did not want to remove his face from the mud and show himself to the others. What he wanted was to wiggle further into it, nestle his face in it, burrow into it and disappear underground forever, never having to face this woman again.
But as much as he would have preferred to disappear off the face of Reniam and found a new race of worm-people in the dark underground, he really was suffocating, literally drowning in mud. He contemplated letting it happen for a moment, weighing survival against oblivion, and reluctantly decided that avoiding Angora probably was not worth dying over.

Planting each of his hands into the ground on either side of him, the squire raised himself out of the muck, which released him with a wet, sucking noise. He was positively covered in mud on the front, his otherwise nice, blond hair dripping with the stuff. His hat had fallen off during the maneuver and was lying nearby. His white shirt, the brilliant ghiril cuirass... caked in mud.
He ran his right hand over his face, scraping as much of the stuff off him as possible, exhaled through his nose to clear his nostrils, and opened his eyes. Angora was smiling at him. Yeah. Hilarious.
“I’m fine,” he squeaked, his voice breaking and prompting him to cough and clear his throat. “Turns out mud doesn’t care who you are, either. I...” He faltered. What in the planes could he possibly say that would improve the situation in the slightest?
Rising to his feet, Jaelnec allowed himself a sigh. This was going to be exhausting, he could tell.

Zerul City, I’onriyi’s estate

When I’onriyi prompted Nimbus to sit she made to do so immediately and eagerly, although probably not exactly the way her host would have expected her to. Without even giving the action a single thought she simply reached out for the chair he had indicated and dragged it behind her to sit in... without actually touching it, that is. Male’dai’s hands did not make the slightest movement to manipulate the chair, but Nimbus’ own hand – her invisible divine hand – instinctively went to retrieve the piece of furniture.

“That’s mostly right, yeah,” she replied when I’onriyi seemed to live up to Male’dai’s expectations and figure out their circumstances on his own. “But Male’dai isn’t just the body; she’s in here, too.” She tapped the side of her head with a finger. “She is my host, and I am... I suppose I’m technically possessing her.”
I guess that’s true; “possession” simply means that you are controlling a foreign body. That doesn’t mean that you have to have taken control by force. Still... feels odd to describe our situation like that. I hope he doesn’t get the wrong idea.

She sat through him preparing his herbal solution in silence, eating much more slowly now, and stared at him with wide eyes once he spoke again, explaining his own current plans and what he needed from her. She nodded eagerly at it all, already trying to formulate an explanation for their situation in her mind, with a little help from her host.
“That’s fine. I expected as much,” she told him with a smile. “I don’t know how well I can really explain myself to let you ‘know’ me, but I’ll try to clarify the situation a bit, at least.
It all started when Cahl’nai’sulooth’iel – the city Male’dai is from – came under siege. From what we’ve been told the attackers were a group called something along the lines of ‘True Purity’, a faction of ascended deigan that persecute true deigan even more aggressively than most of their kind do. They outnumbered the defenders and had brought their own mages, so the city was being razed one building at a time. Hundreds died, and it was only really a matter of time before every single citizen there would have been executed.”
Nimbus’ smile had faded by this point, her posture turning more deflated by the second. “In a desperate effort to save the city, the true deigan turned to the Nameless – practitioners of forbidden magic – and begged them for a solution, their idea of which was apparently to sacrifice several people in order to summon an archangel, which the Nameless would then enslave and command to destroy the enemy. Male’dai, being one of the more... expendable survivors, volunteered as one of these sacrifices. But before the Nameless could complete the spell, their tower was breached. Everyone retreated before their escape was cut off to try again elsewhere, but Male’dai stayed behind, working frantically on the summoning despite having no experience with summoning magic in the first place.”
She sighed. “She performed the spell and called me, but... well, obviously it didn’t work as the Nameless had intended. It was a spell that normally took at least several casters, and a few living sacrifices, to allow me to manifest fully in Reniam, body and soul. Alone, all Male’dai could do was to pull my soul here, and with no other suitable vessel nearby the only place I could go was in her.
Good thing I did, too; casting the spell required every morsel of magical energy Male’dai had in her, so her soul was actually already fading away when I found her. I instinctively reached out to help her, to sustain her with my power, and drew her back. Then the attackers broke into the summoning chamber, and I had no choice but to defend myself against them.” She hung her head regretfully. “None of them survived, and Male’dai was badly wounded. I healed her, and then more came. Rinse and repeat, until True Purity had suffered so many losses that they called the retreat.
Once things had settled down a little and Male’dai and I had had some time to adjust to our new circumstances, we used an Orb of Zhakos to leave Cahl’nai’sulooth’iel, which brought us to a cave on the coast. From there we found our way to Zerul City, where we’ve been for seven days.”

“As to what we can do...” Nimbus shrugged. “Male’dai has some knowledge of arcane magic, that is true, but we can’t actually make use of any of that. Arcane magic requires magical energy – that is, mortal energy – and Male’dai drained herself completely to summon me. I can sustain her with my power to keep her from becoming a specter, but due to my being attached to her soul she can’t actually recharge herself.
As for me... Had I had my own body I would have been very powerful, probably more so than any mage in this city, but I don’t. While Male’dai is more tolerant to divine energy than most mortals and makes an acceptable vessel, she’s far from fit to serve as an avatar. I have to continuously use some of my power to sustain her soul, some on healing the damage my own presence inflicts on her body and some on compensating for the fact that we can’t sleep. If I didn’t do those things, we’d die.
That said, I still have much power left over. I can summon my divine hand as normal -” saying this she summoned her invisible hand again, lightly tapping I’onriyi’s left shoulder with an unseen finger, “- and I can heal people, but doing so takes a lot out of me; it strains Male’dai’s body a lot when I use my powers, which means I have to heal her even more. Of course I can also heal Male’dai’s injuries, so there’s that; despite her situation being somewhat precarious, as long as I’m here she’s actually pretty hard to kill.
Finally,” she sighed, “I’m also trained as a warrior. I’m quite skilled with bladed weapons, especially falchions and cutlasses. Male’dai’s body is not very well-suited for fighting, though, and while I can lend her some of my strength, I can’t make her any heavier than she is. I haven’t had the chance to get used to fighting in this body yet, so I can’t guarantee how well I would do, but I do have the necessary skills to do so.”
She smiled at him apologetically. “It’s not much, I realize, but in time we hope that Male’dai’s body will grow accustomed to divine energy and allow me to use more of my power.” Her expression suddenly turned worried. “Please tell me that’s enough! We won’t be in your way, I promise!”

The Prophecy

He saw a naked girl, stared at said naked girl, realized that he shouldn't see or stare at naked girls and, in an act of desperation, made a clumsy attempt to escape (whether he meant simply to stand up and run away, perform an impressive acrobatic maneuver before making his exit or simply kicked out his legs randomly with no plan of action in mind is up for debate) and ended up lying face-down in the mud behind the log he was sitting on.

Quite simple, really. He's... a bit odd like that.