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Formaroth Part 2: Throne of Lies

THREE MONTHS AGO

Akaibas Chosen Daughter

He had only visited Formaroth once in his life, when he was a teenager, just entering manhood, when his own father had sent him with a trade delegation. It had been an eye opening experience. He had found the people to be rude, the "palaces" small and dark, the castles dark and sinister. Formaroth had none of the beauty, none of the grace or patience, that could be found so widely in Seikatsu. When he had returned he had shared his experience with his father who had just nodded and reminded his son that the western barbarians might not be much to look upon, but they were dangerous. It was the reason, to this very day, that the Gaijin were kept confined to a small island off the coast of the capital. It was the only place their ships might land and they themselves were not permitted to enter the Land of the Gods.

And yet, I am about to send my daughter into their den. Ayeka stared up at the imposing bulk of Sadatake Castle. There was no other fortress like it in the world but he feared that even with the impressive battlements, formidable location, and massive garrison, it might now be enough to defeat the Imperium. If they are battering down those walls, it means the rest of my country already lies in ruin.

The thought caused a knot to form in his stomach as he imagined the beautiful cherry orchards burning, the neat little white and black homes smashed beneath an invaders boot. The feeling was quickly replaced by a savage anger. No such thing would happen while he was Shogun. We will make them bleed for every inch. Oh yes, a blood letting like the world has never seen.

Already the Shogunate was filled with a purposeful buzz of energy as the people prepared for war. This was no campaign to expand the Shoguns borders, no trade dispute, no ordinary war. No indeed, this was a war for the survival of their species and no one knew better than the Iba how to prepare for war. It was in their blood. It was their nation. It was in their very soul.

They will come, and they will die in their thousands. Ayeka curled a fist behind his back as he made the silent promise to the city that lay before him. It was home. The greatest human city the world had ever known and he would give his own life before he let a single elf call himself King of such a place.

"Father." Kanna appeared on the deck behind him. He had been oblivious to the hurried movements of the crew, all of whom had given him a respectful distance as they prepared for sea. The Storm Reaver, his fastest ship, would carry his only daughter to Formaroth.

He turned to look at her and smiled, as he always did. I have been so fortunate in my children. But she is special. She will be Shogun someday. It was written into law that the first born child would become Shogun and she had arrived a minute before her brother. It is just as well. There is an anger in my son that would destroy this land to achieve the revenge he seeks. He extended a hand to her and she came willingly to him for a hug.

"Our home depends on you. Do not fail." He whispered the words into her ear. Simply said, carried the weight of a continent with them. He had no doubt his people would make the Imperium regret ever sailing but, in his heart of hearts, he knew survival was unlikely.

Kanna took his words to heart as she embraced her father, relishing in the warmth of his embrace. "Of course father." She whispered back. The shogun's daughter was still processing what her father had discussed with her just a few days prior after her meeting with Daichi. He was sending her overseas to plead for help on behalf of the country. She had never left home before. In fact, Kanna was hesitant on leaving given what atrocities happened to her brother, but she knew she was their best chance if they were to receive help from the westerners. "Would you like me to bring you back a souvenir?" She tried to bring some humor to the situation, attempting to hide her own uneasiness.

The Shoguns smile grew broader and he stepped back, holding her shoulders with his scarred hands. She was as beautiful as she was clever and he had no doubt that she would make them all proud. "Bring me back a stone for my garden. We will name it together."

"Do you think they will have stones worthy enough of your garden? I think from your stories of this Formaroth, I will be hard pressed." She clasped her hands in front of her, her long kimono sleeves completely covered her hands with its black cotton fabric. She was dressed casually for travel. Her silken robes would be soiled by the voyage.

"Then bring nothing back but yourself, and an army." Ayeka replied, dropping his hands to the swords at his waist. "I have asked Captain Yasuda to escort you, along with his men."

He waved a hand toward the side of the ship and a dozen samurai, all dressed in the same black as her dress, lopped onto the deck of the ship. Each was heavily armed and she knew all of them from their long service in her fathers court. They bowed as one. Both Kanna and Ayeka nodded in response.

"They will keep you safe. Trust no one." He stepped forward and kissed her gently on the forehead. "The Gods protect and guide you."

He turned and strode from the ship, down onto the stone quay where his own bodyguard was spread out, eyes ever watchful. The Captain of the ship, forewarned that this allowed him to make sail, began to shout orders and men ran for the big square sail as the lines were dragged inboard.

Ayeka raised his hand in farewell.

"And you" she said in return as she watched him leave the ship. The wind that now pulled at her clothes and hair smelled heavily of salt water. Kanna turned her face to the force that would carry them westward to an unknown future. Will these people help us, or will I be wasting my time? Fear gripped her stomach at the thought. She did not fear death, but she was afraid of not being there for her people when it came to their shores. Her slender hands gripped her katana tightly as she calmed her emotions. The shogun's daughter couldn't afford to loose her nerve, the fate of her country depended on it.

Kanna brought her attention back to shore when she felt the vessel lurch towards the sea, no longer bound to the land. She found her father's raised hand and returned the gesture with a heavy heart. This was the first time she ever left the country and she wished it were under more favorable circumstances. All hands were on deck, maneuvering the sea faring vessel into open waters and Kanna stayed topside until she could no longer see her father standing at the dock. Once he was out of view, she made her way to her cabin. She had a lot of preparation to do before she faced foreign monarchs.

Tanaka Castle

Impressive. Most impressive. No end of stairs though, of that I am sure. Daichi stared up at the imposing bulk of Tanaka Castle. The structure had none of the beauty Sadatake Castle was famous for; rather it squatted like some monstrous toad astride the Great Silk Road as it ran north from Karaam into Noiba. The walls were built of black volcanic stone; the roof neatly tiled with red ceramic and trimmed at the edges with white. I suppose it is beautiful in its own way.

The wagon creaked beneath him and he glanced down at the driver who had shifted his weight. The mans gaze was straight ahead but Daichi could sense the man waiting for the word to move. It was almost embarrassing to be carted around in such a manner. He could still remember the motion of a horse beneath him and the power that it gave a mounted man over his foot slogging rival. A short shake of his head and he sucked on his gums, tongue playing along his broken teeth, before he grunted and the driver cracked the reins.

A small port had been built the service the massive fortress, large enough to allow small supply ships. A road had been hacked through the broken ground and thick brush up onto the low plain. The castle was situated atop a large rocky outcropping directly in the middle of a gap between the two mountains that served as natures gateway into Noiba. The ground around the castle had been cleared right up to the mountains, leaving a massive killing ground that any enemy would have to cross in order to attack the battlements. As an added touch, the river that ran from the north had been diverted so that it formed a lake around the base of the fortress before spilling over a small waterfall and running south into Karaam.

The cavalry escort closed in around Daichi as thee castle loomed above them. He had come with a token force, enough to protect himself from bandits but hardly enough to do much else. The fortress itself was still manned by Noiban troops, only recently educated as to their reintegration into the Shogunate. It was yet to be seen just how happy they would be about that. I hope for a parade and open arms, but I think I'll be lucky not to just end up a pincushion. He could see spearpoints twinkling on the ramparts as they drew closer and noted that the Noiban flag still flew from the keep. Not a great start.

It took the better part of thirty minutes to cross the killing field and he felt, rather than saw, the siege weapons tracking him from up above. He made no effort to hide his face, nor his robe, and the four black masked Kempeitai certainly gave away who he was. Hopefully they didn't just decide to slaughter him and be done with it.

A single bridge crossed from the castle and into the killing ground. It was hauntingly beautiful, a work of art done in red wood, a total of four long arches spanning the nearly still surface of the lake so that it reflected almost perfectly. Even here, in this valley designed for death, man has made something beautiful. The sound of hooves on the wooden deck was suddenly loud and Daichi cast his gaze to the north where a thick mist clung to the mountaintops and lush green forests spread down to carpet the valley bottom. A waterfall fell dramatically over one mountain spur, tumbling away until it vanished into the forest below. A land of perfection.

"Halt! Papers!" The bark of the Samurai guard who stood in the middle of the bridge brought the wagon to a halt. The cavalry escort had closed in behind Daichi and only his Kempeitai stood in front of him, Mamiko among them. She stood forward to present the papers issued to him by his father. The Noiba Samurai held them between thumb and forefinger as if they might contaminate him by their very touch.

"Today." Mamiko hissed the word and the samurai bristled at the tone. Daichi's eyes narrowed he flashed his broken grin. The man recoiled instinctively. "You know who I am. Stop wasting my time with your bad manners."

The samurai met Daichis gaze for a moment but then quickly bowed with mumbled apologies and handed back the papers to Mamiko who strode past him without a glance. Daichi spared the man a short nod and saw relief in the dark eyes. Never insult a man unless you intend to fight him, and I can't fight anyone.

Ahead of them the castle gates, massive steel affairs set into the volcanic stone, stood open with another samurai guard barring the way. Again the formal reading of papers and ritual bows occurred before they were waved on with greater ceremony than the bridge. The gatehouse here was actually a water filled courtyard spanned by a pair of drawbridges, one narrow enough for men to walk single file, the other large enough for a cart. Both were down but Daichi could see shadows moving behind the arrow slits above him.

Still more gates, more inspection of papers, and more bows, as the cart climbed a long ramp that ran around the base of the fortress; climbing slowly toward the summit. Bless them, I could almost walk this myself. The easy climb was misleading however, at every angle he could see firing platforms that would allow defenders to pour arrows into an attacking force; more than a few runes glowed faintly on the stone. This was a fortress designed to break any army that crashed against its walls. It was no wonder that Karaam had never made an effort.

They reached level ground at last and a final gatehouse, as thick and intimidating as the last half dozen, loomed over them. A sharp left turn, followed by a sharp right, and two more gates, brought them at last into the courtyard of the keep. A small unit of samurai was drawn up as an honour guard behind a tall thin officer dressed in light green tunic and white armour. General Shizuo Yokoyama I presume. Daichi had read everything he had available on the garrison commander and the livid white scar that bisected Yokoyamas face was all the more impressive when seen in person.

Mamiko stepped forward to fold down a set of stairs from the cart and Daichi descended carefully to the courtyard. His hip clicked and pain shot up his spine every time his right foot touched a stair. He forced himself not to grimace. Only when he was safely on the ground did he note that it was finely cut flagstones or brick but rather the polished stone of the mount itself. An impressive feat and he found himself wondering just how miserable had been to make it just so.

Click. Tap. Drag.

The sound echoed in the courtyard and Daichi forced himself not to flinch at the noise. The rhythm of my life and yet it still bothers me. Will I ever get used to it? The Kempeitai had closed in around him as the cavalry dismounted and held their station behind his wagon. He could see the General assessing him. And what does he see? A cripple with no teeth, duck feet, and a lame limp. This ought to inspire all sorts of confidence in my taking command here.

Click. Tap. Drag.

"General Yokoyama-san." Daichi spoke first. He had come to realize that most military men needed to be addressed quickly before they could speak down to him; using their rank tended to make them somewhat more cooperative.

"Crown Prince Daichi-sama. Welcome to Tanaka Castle." The general bowed bowed low. The movement was echoed by the honour guard behind him and it caught Daichi off guard. He quickly bowed himself, not as low as the General but more than enough to be polite. The military man straightened and glanced at Daichis escort. "Perhaps your men might like to make themselves comfortable?"

"I am sure they would, thank you." Daichi nodded to Mamiko who relayed the order. "After you, General."

"No, please. I insist." Came the calm reply. No expression crossed the scarred face and Daichi found himself warming to the man as he made his way into the keep.

Click. Tap. Drag.

Nar Shaddaa

The Origin - Kade Ritgar

---

Kade sat at the lounge window, watching as the whirling beauty of hyperspace tumbled away while the Origin hurtled toward Nar Shadda. He was alone on this trip, or as alone as any man in his position could be. Just him, the ships captain, twenty crew, his bodyguards Ogint and Hishembi, and Cinna Ovarug, the Togruta who oversaw his vast business portfolio.

"A credit for your thoughts?" Cinna was sitting across from him on another lounger. She wasn't even looking at him but they had worked together long enough for her to know when he was being pensive.

"You ever feel like having to do business on Nar Shadda is... How do I say it, dirty?" He glanced over at Cinna who looked over her shoulder at him. Both literally and figuratively. The planet is a polluters paradise. He shuddered at the thought.

"All the time. The first thing I do when we get back onboard is hop in the refresher. Unfortunately..." She tapped a datapad sitting next to her. "The credits are excellent. I suppose we could pull up stakes but that mean quite a financial loss."

"Yes, yes, and Hutt space allows us to do business in the Sith Empire as well." Kade waved his hand through the air. They had had this discussion multiple times and it always ended the same way. He hated Nar Shadda, but he loved the credits that could be found there.

This particular trip included a tremendous business opportunity. Nar Shadda was famous for a number of things, casinos, loose morals, discounts on anything and everything. Basically, if you wanted it, it could be found in Nar Shadda. Even Kades luxury clothing line, Scarifs Styles, could be found in several boutique stores. The only real cost to the business were taxes levied by the Hutts.

As a result, Kade had been intrigued when Khulbe the Hutt had contacted him and offered a deal. The Hutt wanted the latest launch of Scarifs Styles for his slave girls. Not the day of the launch, but a month early. In return the Hutt had offered Kade the opportunity to import further product for a significant decrease in the taxes usually levied against them.

He had been on the fence until Cinna had crunched some numbers and showed him the profit that was to be made on the deal. That had decided it for him. He had agreed to attend Nar Shadda, though he would not meet with the Hutt directly. The crime lord indicated that he would be sending several representatives to meet with Kade in order to finalize the deal.

He shrugged. Credits were credits.

The Vampire princes

I always expected the death of a city to have more grey clouds, screaming wind and even lightening. Kane stood atop of on the citadels outer towers, eyes roving over the shattered stone and gaping chasms that had swallowed a thousand years of history. Instead it's sunny and not a single cloud or errant lighting bolt to be seen. Well, a white cloud anyway...

Indeed the whole countryside was burning. Black plumes of smoke rose into the motionless sky as far as he could see in every direction. It seemed as though Edwards much vaunted allies had not been as loyal as he thought. The death of the King, and the knowledge that a civil war had broken out, was enough for any land hungry regent to launch his own campaign against the weakened kingdom.

Only to the East, toward the ocean, was the sky clear of any signs of war. It would not last however. Kane could already see small black dots swarming across the landscape as they made for the Vampire port used to supply the capital. There would be precious little time for anyone to escape.

The Land Under Shadow is dying. I have done my work well though there is plenty more to do. Ah, and there are survivors! Unbelievably, combatants from both sides staggered from the smoke and dust below, weapons forgotten, all making their way toward the edge of the city. Peasant, foot soldier, knight, even dwarf, all of them seeking only to preserve their own lives as the city burned. Go east, you might stand a chance! It was a minimal chance. But something was better than nothing.

Kane turned his back on the city and stared down into the ruins of the citadel. Even here the bloodlust began to fade as guardsmen and mercenaries alike realized that their leaders were either dead or gone. The violent clash of blades and war cries died away almost like a quick breeze, petering out to nothing until a strange silence fell across the broken grey stone and shattered timbers. Some collapsed into the ruins as the adrenaline wore away and their wounds caught up with them. Others leaned against each other in exhaustion. Some even just sat and wept into their hands.

Hesitant at first, and then in ones and twos, men began to sheath their blades and back slowly away toward the broken gatehouse. A groan from inside the citadel and the resulting alarming shudder of another tower turned the small trickle of fleeing men into a rout. Friend and foe alike fled the confines of the citadel, their only goal survival. The mad scramble up the inside of the breach only paused briefly as they took in the streets that had once been so wide and clean. The moat itself had vanished, the water draining away into the empty maw that had once been the city centre. Only a muddy ditch filled with rotting wooden stakes and dozens of bodies remained.

It looks like a quarry. The interior of the courtyard, once paved with gleaming black stone and edged with red sandstone, was nothing more than a mass of shattered chunks now. Bodies lay twisted everywhere and Kane could make out the broken forms of the Ogres in a couple of places. Smart choice on Ulreks part, but they died as much as everything else did. He was wasted as a Vampire.

The number of dead and the extent of the suffering that had occurred beneath his gaze moved Kane not at all. There is a price that must be paid by all men to be free. Now at least their souls can be saved. How many were wasted before I came. A thousand years to many. He would gladly have paid it again. But only if it meant the end of the Vampire line.

Ulrek. Where are you? Kane stepped from the edge of the tower and began to glide toward the courtyard. A silver glint in the corner of his eye led him to the walltop where, wedged beside the body of a dead dust coated guardsmen, he found the Barons discarded mask. Interesting. Managed to work on your weakness to silver I see. Fire it is.

He tossed the mask into the muddy ditch below and watched with detached interest as it landed with a wet smack before sinking into the ooze. Perhaps someone would find it in a hundred years or more and wonder what it had been for. More than likely they'll melt it down if they have any sense. Some good silver in that. Only when it was gone completely did he continue down the walltop.

No living men remained in the fortress that he could see. Bodies were draped thickly all along the ramparts. Some slain by crossbows, others hacked to death, and more than a few had been boiled alive. A horrible way to die. Still, at least they were dead and not screaming for their mothers. Maybe they had been, but it appeared as though most of the wounded had choked to death on the dust that billowed across the city following the explosion.

Ahead of Kane, torn from its hinges, was a door that led into the interior of the keep. Only one type of being could do such damage and he felt a grin spread across his handsome features. Ulrek. No need to hide. You cannot escape what is coming for you. He strode swiftly across the rampart, his wings vanishing as he ducked his head into the corridor. It was well lit by several gaping holes in one wall that allowed daylight to stream in. He could see footprints in the dust, keeping close to the shadows. He was not invulnerable to sun, yet.

Kane took another pace and then stopped in his tracks. Father in Heaven, what is that? He felt a tremor run through him, and through the fabric of the world. It was the type of thing he had come to associate with great evil and in an instant he knew that something had changed within either Ulrek or Edward. I have not felt this since... Since... The Saundering.

Before his time on earth, Kane had served his father in The Saundering, the great civil war that wrecked Heaven. Lucifer had lost his gamble for the throne and been cast from Heaven into Hell. A broken and tortured land that Lucifer had been doomed to rule for all eternity. I wondered when his power might make itself known. Perhaps it is now. He felt his fingers tighten around the pommel of his sword and, for the first time, something akin to fear fluttered in his chest. It is likely I go to my death, but what a death it shall be. A death worthy of song.

The Vampire princes

Recommended Listening

Kane saw the sparks, the dwarf frantically trying to shield the load from the wagon, other dwarves scurrying without purpose around the wheels, nearby horsemen kicking mounts forward in an effort to escape what they knew to becoming. It was with an almost detached interest that Kane saw the two boys, ingenious boys, stand to hurl their burning mason jars, so recently filled with mothers jam, down upon the dwarf and his wagon.

The bright orange flash easily lit the face of the dwarf, the terror, the knowledge of his impending death stamped firmly across the rugged features. A roll of leather, still clutched in one gnarled hand, served to protect his face for a millisecond as the rising flame turned his clothes into ash. His beard, then his eyebrows went next, vanishing with the heat until his skin literally melted in an instant as the fire consumed him.

Then the fireball began to grow and expand, swallowing panicking dwarves and men, vengeful peasants who ran toward it with no regard for their own safety. A crow, flying low through the streets, simply burst into flames as the heat struck it, the flaming, screaming, bird sailing through the air to vanish into the streets beyond. Men in armour were crushed as the concussion bent and twisted metal armour. The dwarves long hair, so glorious and well oiled, ignited almost immediately to turn them into short shrieking torches with nowhere to run.

Unarmoured peasants disintegrated as the fireball swept down the streets like some monstrous beast that devoured all in its path. Windows shattered to spray glass in every direction. Stone buildings literally shattered in the intense heat to add flying stone to the shrapnel now filling the streets. Flesh was shredded, clothes torn, bodies literally ripped to bloody ribbons, as the blast expanded outward strike the second and third wagons.

These two were much closer together and exploded within seconds. Their explosions fused into one, so much larger than the first, simply wiping entire buildings off the face of the earth in an instant. Beneath them the earth moved.

The capital had stood for a thousand years. Beneath its streets ran unknown kilometres of long abandoned quarries, ancient tunnels, catacombs, and sewers. As fickle fate would have it, the second explosion occurred over largest of these works and the roof began to collapse. It was not just the explosion of course, a thousand years of digging, building, and progressively larger buildings, had done their part to weaken the ceiling of the ancient quarry and now thousands would pay with their lives.

The fourth wagon, partially shielded from the blasts, tettered and vanished into the rapidly expanding hole in the cobblestone. Only Kane, who saw it all, had the time to notice and an instant to wonder just how bad things were about to get. The fourth wagon, when it hit bottom, exploded much as its fellows had, but this time the blast was hurled deep into the tunnels, shattering ancient support columns and carefully built arches. More streets began to buckle, buildings lurched drunkenly, and the city began to die.

The two initial fireballs rolled into one as their awesome power drove outward, the concussion wave racing ahead of the flame to scatter struggling combatants before it as a great wind might blow leaves. Clothes melted to skin an instant before the skin was turned to ash. Not even skeletons remained of those closest to the blast. Naught but shadows and ash.

In the castle, Yorrek lived long enough to see the huge gatehouse, weakened by the ogres attack, sway alarmingly before giving a mighty groan and crashing down to bury guardsmen and ogres alike beneath hundreds of tonnes of stone. The few spires that had survived the Barons assault were smashed like wooden bowling pins, tumbling down into the citadel below. Everything stopped as men, dwarves, vampires, ogres, and angels alike, turned to stare in dumb fascination at the climbing fireball.

Dust billowed through the streets to blind those who did not turn away in time. The black cloud advanced like an angry shadow, consuming all before it. Behind it, as buildings collapsed and vanished one by one, a great chasm grew across the very centre of the city. It swallowed all, sparing no one or anything it touched.

Kane watched it all, drifting upon the winds, the fire and smoke swirling around him but not touching him. The force of the explosion snapped at his cloak and buffeted his wings but otherwise it was though he was made of stone. Where a people had struggled to be free, nothing remained but charred corpses, or nothing at all. He could see the shadows of some victims, their only legacy, burnt into walls an instant before the ground beneath gave way and everything vanished into the growing dust cloud.

For those who had made it beyond the walls, it looked as though the end had truly come. The fireball still climbed into the sky. Smoke was everywhere as was the choking dust. The concussion tore flags from their brackets on the mighty gatehouses and entire sections of the city wall ceased to exist as they were shaken to their core. Entire lines of buildings, once the pride of the city, just simply slipped from view one by one.

The old quarter, once home to the vampire overlords, gave its own shudder and then, incredibly, another explosion ripped through the earth and the hill, great houses, and palaces, all of it, heaved upward, outward, and then hurled itself across the city. No one could have known that that ancient builders had hidden their own store of firedust, used for blasting the sewers and catacombs, beneath that hill.

The debris rained down across the city, crushing friend and foe alike. More buildings were smashed by blocks of stone the size of a horse and countless of lives were lost as bricks dropped from the sky like rain from a cloud to kill those unlucky enough to be beneath them.

Then the fireball was gone, leaving only smoke, dust, and ruin in its wake. The shaking of the city continued a few more moments but then it too quieted. The streets, torn up and broken as they were, settled once again and a strange silence settled over the city. It was a silence of screams and moans, but anything was better than the crushing, pounding noise of the explosion. Gone with the explosion was the will of many to fight, friend or foe. Men and women who, moments before, had been trying to kill each other, simply staggered away into the dust cloud. No none knew where they were going, only that they needed to get far away that place.

For Kane it was a sign. Enough was enough. He was floating above the massive crater, unable to tear his eyes from the destruction that had been wrought, when the anger hit him. Ulrek. He had planned for such an eventuality and so doomed the entire city. He would die, and now was not soon enough.

The silver sword flashed in Kanes hand and flames rippled along the blade, shield materializing on his left arm. He kissed the sword blade, the flames touching him not at all. Then hee charged toward the citadel and its shattered gateway. The reckoning was coming for Ulrek, and his judgement with it.

Before the Shadow: Rise of the Vampire Prince

Prince Rolf: Eldest brother. Heir to the Kingdom

Princess Ariana: Only daughter of the King. Rolfs on and off again lover.

Before the Shadow: Rise of the Vampire Prince

The burning need to take a piss saved his life. He had been lying in a tangle of sheets and limbs, sweat beading his brow, the smell of sex strong in the room, when his bladder had decided now was a good time to demand relief. It took him a moment to free himself from the tangle, his sister giving a small groan as she rolled away from him and muttering about how rude it was to interrupt someone so soon after climax. I'll show you just how rude I can be when I come back... It's about time we explored that lovely bum of yours.

He grinned to himself at the thought and padded across the carpet that covered the cold stone of his chamber floor to push aside the curtain hiding the small privy. A cold draft whipped into the room as soon as he removed the wooden lid and he shivered, but he gave a small sigh of relief as his piss splattered away down the walls to patter across the moat like rain. He waited a moment or two longer, gave himself a shake and turned back to the curtain.

At that very moment, just as the church bell tolled midnight, his door burst open. Two men, clad entirely in black, rushed toward the bed. Ariana, still in bed, screamed as they rushed toward her and scrambled swiftly over the side of the bed, her bare buttocks causing the two men to pause for a moment. It was long enough.

No one could accuse Prince Rolf of being a coward and in that instant he burst from the privy roaring his battlecry. Swords, some basic armour, soldiers then. He wasted no further thought as he cannoned into the man nearest him. The Prince was a big man and his shoulder slammed into the soldiers face, causing the head to snap around and he heard the heavy clack of the mans jaw slamming shut. Rolf kept moving, driving the first attacker straight into the second man.

Yes, swing! He almost smiled as the second soldier lashed out in panic, hacking his blade into the first mans arm. The injured soldier gave a scream and dropped his own sword even as Rolf ripped a dagger from the mans belt and buried it in his throat. One down.

He heaved the dying man into his partner, the two of them crashing into a chair, over a table and onto the floor. Rolf stooped swiftly and took up the dying mans sword, noting the well made blade and dragons head pommel. Some of our own soldiers then. Why?

The second attacker managed to stagger to his feet, his eyes flashing between Ariana and Rolf, realization dawning on his face. The realization, right there, was going to get you killed if trying to murder me in my sleep wasn't already going to. Blood was staining the carpet at his feet and could feel the wet stickiness on his bare skin.

"Why?" Rolf asked simply as he stepped toward the soldier who was now looking panicked.

"Your brother, he paid us. He paid us." The man repeated the last phrase as if it might save him.

"But why me?" Rolf knew his younger brother wasn't his biggest fan. But murder? By guards? That was a strange step for him.

"Not just you, the whole family."

Now that makes more sense. Rolf finished the thought as he stepped over the dead man, deftly knocked aside the other mans blade and drove his sword into the open mouth. He was dimly aware of shouting elsewhere in the castle and the sound of the church bell now tolling widely in alarm. He dropped the attackers sword and hurried toward his wardrobe.

"Stay here." He ordered Ariana as he hastily pulled on his light armour and drew his sword. "I must go see to the others. Hide in here." He pushed her into the wardrobe and closed it behind her. Taking his shield from the stand nearby he hurried out onto the landing and began to descend the stairs as quickly as he could.

He feared he might already be to late.

Before the Shadow: Rise of the Vampire Prince

Before the Shadow: Rise of the Vampire Prince

[A private RP between @The Wyrm and @RisingSun]

Before the Shadow: Rise of the Vampire Prince

Before the Shadow

The Vampire princes

Ser Vinicus tried to move his hand. He could see it, just in front of his face, and he screamed at his fingers to move but they ignored him. Nor did his scream make any noise. He was dimly aware of a tremendous ache throughout his body. Even blinking seemed hurt. He couldn't even feel the blood that was trickling into his left eye. He was dying.

Still, he supposed, it could have been worse. The battle raged on around him and he watched, unmoving, as a young boy attacked a swordsman, jumping onto the mans back and tugging on his helmet. It would not move, though the boy succeeded in blinding the swordsman long enough for another child to drive a sharpened stake into the mans thigh. He gave a roar of anger and hammered his sword down, the pommel destroying the childs eye. A second blow, to the base of the childs skull, killed the boy as neatly as a butcher killing a steer.

The other boy, still clinging to the swordsmans back managed to haul himself further up the armoured back, and with a snarl that reminded Vinicus of his small terrier back home, sank his teeth into the mans ear. The two of them staggered out of Vinicus's view. He blinked once more. His eyes were so heavy. He just wanted to sleep.

His eyes closed for a final time and the sounds of battle faded to nothing. So this was death. A black, soundless, nothingness. It didn't seem so bad. He had time to think of his family, his wife and four children, all of them still standing on the stoop of his manor house, waving as he rode away. All but his wife. She had not waved. She had only cried. She had know how this would end.

"You will see them again, Vinicus." The words startled him so badly that he dragged his eyes open again. In that instant he realized that he was looking down at himself. His body was twisted in the middle of the street, surrounded on all sides by shapeless figures that struggled with each other. He could see the great wound on the back of his head where the stone had struck him, the jagged and torn metal of his helmet, the red blood and the grey brain matter that oozed out onto the street.

"Strange, is it not?" The voice again and Vinicus quite suddenly found himself facing a man all in white. It was not Kane. No, the man was smaller, thinner somehow. The two huge wings that sprouted from his back left no doubt as to what he was.

"You're an... Angel..." Vinicus was surprised to find he could speak. The angel nodded and walked slowly among the shapes that reeled and twisted, almost like shadows in a fog.

"I am Eremiel." The voice was so soothing, almost musical, that Vinicus could not help but smile at the angel. It never occurred to him just how strange that might be as he stood next to his own corpse. "I am charged with guiding the holy deceased when they fall in battle."

"The Holy... But I served Ulrek." Vinicus spoke without thinking and instantly regretted it. The ancient stories of God, of heaven and hell, were coming back to him, and he knew he had just consigned himself to eternal damnation.

"You, and many others. But the real question, my friend, will you repent your service to him?" The angel was standing directly in front of Vinicus who suddenly realized just how much taller Eremiel was.

"I did what I had to. For myself, for my family." He stated flatly. That was no lie. One could not survive and prosper in the Lands Under Shadow without serving the Vampire lords in some manner.

"And now? With Gods wrath unleashed upon this world and the victory of his chosen son nigh at hand?"

"I would still do whatever I had to do to protect my family. I have been a kind man, and I have always treated those around me as I would wish to be treated."

Eremiels face split into a small smile that seemed to light up everything around him and Vinicus felt his own heart surge with a joy he had never known before. He was suddenly aware that he was rising, rising toward a bright light that shone down from above. Emeriel watched him go and then gave a small bow before turning away.

"Welcome home, my son." The voice came from above and Vinicus raised his face toward the light.

* * * * *

Kane walked among the dead and dying, his footfalls making no sound, his wings casting no shadows. Here and there a man or woman wept while others screamed for their mothers, their wives, for the pain to end. There was no glory in war. There was only peace in death.

He could see them all, the souls of the dead, as they stared down in confusion at their own bodies, unable to leave, unable to do anything other than wait. Wait for the children of God. Kanes brother and sisters. They moved among the dead, speaking with them, judging them, sentencing them. Some, like the knight who had spoken with Emeriel were found to be pure of spirit and ascended to their father in heaven.

Others, however, were judged for their past actions and the thoughts that could be read like an open book by an angel. These souls were left tethered to their bodies, doomed to remain on the mortal plain for all of eternity, until the ends of days. They would watch the world around them wither and die. This city would be their tomb.

Descriptive Male and Female Rpers Needed

I would be interested in either option one, or option four.