The Blade of Phoee (Updated 12/08/08)
- Thread starter Funeris
- Start date
Funeris
First Post
Chapter 5: Nightfall
Yup...here comes another Interlude...I so do enjoy writing them (although I admit...I had some help for this one...eh hobbitkiller?)
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Chapter 5: Nightfall
Rhynos screeched silently. His lungs kicked uselessly against their bone prison, diaphragm trembling and heart roaring.
“Let it bleed, let it scar.” The warlock drew his legs underneath him, empty sounds ringing through his empty ears.
Vertigo clutched his mind, he felt as if he were falling eternally. Down, down an endless pit of black into the depths of night and darkness his body flew. His stomach lurched; vomit shot up his esophagus and burst against the back of his teeth. Rhynos’ lips parted—splatter and stink assaulted his blind senses.
He tried to open his eyes but they were somehow sealed shut. Clawing at his lids, Rhynos scratched dried blood, mucous, and phlegm. His jagged nails tore into his own soft flesh, fresh blood spilling into his opening eyes.
Everything was still perfectly black.
His eyelids flickered—he forced them to flicker open—closed—open—closed.
Still black.
The warlock screamed—raw anger, primal rage welled up through his throat. He crouched over against the damp earth, slave to a coughing fit. Blood from his eyes and parched throat dribbled into his stomach forcing him into a fit of gagging.
“Rhy—Rhynos?”
Rhynos stopped moving, forcing the fits to cease. He listened close to the dark but it was as silent as it was black in this hell. F*ck! Now I’m going mad, he thought.
“Rhy—Rhynos?”
“Who’s there?!” he hissed into the dark.
“It’s G-g-g-g-gardone,” sighed a weary voice. Rhynos’ face slid between his hands, pain boiling through his brain. The last few moments of memory flashed across his mind’s eye. Gardone turning on him. Gardone suffering his wrath. Pain and a hole through his chest. And something—no someone else—someone fluid and murky like his memories. He grasped harder, his nails opening fresh wounds along the sides of his face.
“It can’t be. I killed you.” Rhynos’ arms slipped down to his wound. There was no hole, nothing but his smooth flesh.
Gardone giggled a raspy laugh. “Killed me? Killed me did you? Well, my exalted Lieutenant, then it looks like you failed miserably.”
“I killed you—you godd@mned traitor!” The warlock leapt toward the voice, his head bashed into soft earth above. However, his momentum carried him through and he landed on his sergeant. His arms shot out, grasping a head. He wrenched and forced it into the damp earth behind—back and forth endlessly. Gardone laughed—loud and maniacally.
Rhynos’ felt fluid splash in his face but he kept moving. Gardone’s head forward—back—into the air—and into the dirt. But the laughing did not end.
Finally—frustrated and at a loss—the warlock fell away, curling again upon the moist earth. The peal of laughter continued. Rhynos tried to take stock of his surroundings: not so far he heard the drip…drip…dripping of water, the earth smelled of moisture—dank and old, he felt cold but the air seemed warm, hungry—he was so hungry.
“How long have we been here?” he demanded.
“Forever…and not so long. Time loses its meaning in darkness.”
“I am not going to play games with you.”
“Oh but you should, I do so love games.” Gardone’s voice had shifted, losing its deep tone as it slid upward; masculinity lost, femininity gained.
“G-gardone?” Rhynos slid back a bit. He felt a gentle breath on his shoulder. He tried to spin away but a talon caught him, unbending like a vice it held him in place.
“I brought you dinner, child.”
“W-who?”
“I am your mistress. I am your mother.” She paused—allowing the words to settle upon the muggy darkness. “I am your Goddess. To me you do owe a great debt.” A light flared not so far away, her talon receding. She set a thin, faint candle upon the damp earth. Before Rhynos, crouched upon the floor, a beauty—flawless, pale beauty sat. Her long hair was her only covering and even it seemed to despise the idea of modesty. No, the black hair danced away, luring Rhynos’ urges forward.
He turned away, gripped with uncertainty and the need to see Gardone. A body lied broken upon the floor. Despite the week or more of rot, Rhynos could recognize its features—even despite the pulpy skull he had recently smashed futilely against the earth.
Death clung to the warlock’s nostrils.
A wail brought his eyes to his Goddess again. She held a bundle of cloth in front of her body, mostly rags but something inside tossed and turned. A tiny hand lifted from the pure white—grasping for heaven. “I have brought you dinner.” She smiled, her lips sliding easily past jagged incisors. Her right hand reached around what must have been its throat. He saw again her talons and watched as the white began to stain red.
Hunger clawed at his stomach. His arms reached slowly—tentatively toward the offering. She tossed it callously. He snatched it from the air—the infant was still wailing albeit softly now, he remarked—and brought the warm flesh to his lips. He felt his lips part, felt the hunger claw outward, felt warmth spreading through his limbs.
“Eat, drink and be merry—” she whispered with an amused smile playing across her lips.
Rhynos brought the babe closer—its cries had ceased. He felt the bones break in his strong grasp. The body crushed in his grip, fluid spurting down his throat and into his stomach. The hunger wasn’t passing though…it just kept growing. Stronger, stronger…and stronger.
“For yesterday you died.”
Rhynos tossed the corpse to the ground. “More,” he demanded.
Lillith smiled.
Yup...here comes another Interlude...I so do enjoy writing them (although I admit...I had some help for this one...eh hobbitkiller?)
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Chapter 5: Nightfall
Rhynos screeched silently. His lungs kicked uselessly against their bone prison, diaphragm trembling and heart roaring.
“Let it bleed, let it scar.” The warlock drew his legs underneath him, empty sounds ringing through his empty ears.
Vertigo clutched his mind, he felt as if he were falling eternally. Down, down an endless pit of black into the depths of night and darkness his body flew. His stomach lurched; vomit shot up his esophagus and burst against the back of his teeth. Rhynos’ lips parted—splatter and stink assaulted his blind senses.
He tried to open his eyes but they were somehow sealed shut. Clawing at his lids, Rhynos scratched dried blood, mucous, and phlegm. His jagged nails tore into his own soft flesh, fresh blood spilling into his opening eyes.
Everything was still perfectly black.
His eyelids flickered—he forced them to flicker open—closed—open—closed.
Still black.
The warlock screamed—raw anger, primal rage welled up through his throat. He crouched over against the damp earth, slave to a coughing fit. Blood from his eyes and parched throat dribbled into his stomach forcing him into a fit of gagging.
“Rhy—Rhynos?”
Rhynos stopped moving, forcing the fits to cease. He listened close to the dark but it was as silent as it was black in this hell. F*ck! Now I’m going mad, he thought.
“Rhy—Rhynos?”
“Who’s there?!” he hissed into the dark.
“It’s G-g-g-g-gardone,” sighed a weary voice. Rhynos’ face slid between his hands, pain boiling through his brain. The last few moments of memory flashed across his mind’s eye. Gardone turning on him. Gardone suffering his wrath. Pain and a hole through his chest. And something—no someone else—someone fluid and murky like his memories. He grasped harder, his nails opening fresh wounds along the sides of his face.
“It can’t be. I killed you.” Rhynos’ arms slipped down to his wound. There was no hole, nothing but his smooth flesh.
Gardone giggled a raspy laugh. “Killed me? Killed me did you? Well, my exalted Lieutenant, then it looks like you failed miserably.”
“I killed you—you godd@mned traitor!” The warlock leapt toward the voice, his head bashed into soft earth above. However, his momentum carried him through and he landed on his sergeant. His arms shot out, grasping a head. He wrenched and forced it into the damp earth behind—back and forth endlessly. Gardone laughed—loud and maniacally.
Rhynos’ felt fluid splash in his face but he kept moving. Gardone’s head forward—back—into the air—and into the dirt. But the laughing did not end.
Finally—frustrated and at a loss—the warlock fell away, curling again upon the moist earth. The peal of laughter continued. Rhynos tried to take stock of his surroundings: not so far he heard the drip…drip…dripping of water, the earth smelled of moisture—dank and old, he felt cold but the air seemed warm, hungry—he was so hungry.
“How long have we been here?” he demanded.
“Forever…and not so long. Time loses its meaning in darkness.”
“I am not going to play games with you.”
“Oh but you should, I do so love games.” Gardone’s voice had shifted, losing its deep tone as it slid upward; masculinity lost, femininity gained.
“G-gardone?” Rhynos slid back a bit. He felt a gentle breath on his shoulder. He tried to spin away but a talon caught him, unbending like a vice it held him in place.
“I brought you dinner, child.”
“W-who?”
“I am your mistress. I am your mother.” She paused—allowing the words to settle upon the muggy darkness. “I am your Goddess. To me you do owe a great debt.” A light flared not so far away, her talon receding. She set a thin, faint candle upon the damp earth. Before Rhynos, crouched upon the floor, a beauty—flawless, pale beauty sat. Her long hair was her only covering and even it seemed to despise the idea of modesty. No, the black hair danced away, luring Rhynos’ urges forward.
He turned away, gripped with uncertainty and the need to see Gardone. A body lied broken upon the floor. Despite the week or more of rot, Rhynos could recognize its features—even despite the pulpy skull he had recently smashed futilely against the earth.
Death clung to the warlock’s nostrils.
A wail brought his eyes to his Goddess again. She held a bundle of cloth in front of her body, mostly rags but something inside tossed and turned. A tiny hand lifted from the pure white—grasping for heaven. “I have brought you dinner.” She smiled, her lips sliding easily past jagged incisors. Her right hand reached around what must have been its throat. He saw again her talons and watched as the white began to stain red.
Hunger clawed at his stomach. His arms reached slowly—tentatively toward the offering. She tossed it callously. He snatched it from the air—the infant was still wailing albeit softly now, he remarked—and brought the warm flesh to his lips. He felt his lips part, felt the hunger claw outward, felt warmth spreading through his limbs.
“Eat, drink and be merry—” she whispered with an amused smile playing across her lips.
Rhynos brought the babe closer—its cries had ceased. He felt the bones break in his strong grasp. The body crushed in his grip, fluid spurting down his throat and into his stomach. The hunger wasn’t passing though…it just kept growing. Stronger, stronger…and stronger.
“For yesterday you died.”
Rhynos tossed the corpse to the ground. “More,” he demanded.
Lillith smiled.
HalfOrc HalfBiscuit
Adventurer
Nice ...... in a twisted, perverted sort of way.
Funeris
First Post
Chapter 5: Nightfall Part II
Hmmm...anyone think I should call this an update rampage?
And Halforc Halfbiscuit, I couldn't agree more--but I think it makes for good writing/reading
~Fune
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The warlock smirked into the night. He shifted slightly for a better footing; the hill he stood upon was covered in a week’s worth of heavy rain. The grass had been forced down into the muck beneath, fornicating with the mud until it had become a slippery mass of gunk any human would’ve had problems traversing.
Rhynos was no human, though.
His scowl increased with the passing of minutes, with old memories long lost to the time-devouring darkness. Lillith had been correct about that at least: Time meant nothing in the darkness. Years had passed, was it five, ten or twenty? Rhynos couldn’t say for sure. Existence had become mindless and numb—as numb as his unnatural body. Of course, slavery must seem mindless to the slave, he thought.
He bent down, stretching the tips of his fingers out into the dark. The familiar pain tingled and danced through the tips just as the flesh parted to the ragged, bony daggers. The wounds quickly healed, another benefit of this damned body.
But then the hunger—the demonic, never sated hunger—clawed at his breast again. It was always there, always lurking beneath the false surface of human flesh and bone yearning to be unfettered. Yearning to devour the world whole. It awoke every time blood was near, living or dead, it did not discriminate. Now, it craved Rhynos’ own blood, the few droplets he had sprayed into the mud-cloaked earth.
He focused, pushing the craving down and away from the here and now, away from his task. A scent drifted upon the night air—a putrid, death-filled scent of rot and immortality—but it was a scent only an animal or Rhynos would notice from so far off. Another vampire. Another beast bold—or stupid—enough to tread upon Lillith’s demesne. Another notch on Rhynos’ near-infinite list of kills.
The warlock shot upward, his legs extended fluidly and launched his body higher than any possible mortal. Silently, his body passed through the tight branches above, each sliver of wood bent away momentarily as if afraid to catch plague. He pierced the prison-like crossing of branches and landed upon a sturdy limb without a single scratch upon his perfect body.
Waiting for the walking corpse to near, he dropped into a sitting position and continued to traverse his mind’s memories. Memories of being naught but Lillith’s servant and occasional lover. Memories of being a beast in the dark, death incarnate for so many. The memory of Lillith whipping him incessantly and her light, airy laughter mocking him as the many open wounds sealed closed again.
But there were memories of his life before; leading so many men in the King’s useless army. Not that there were that many men in his unit—mainly goblins, orcs and the halfbreed orcs.
“No, my life is better now,” he determined. “Or would be if…”. The idea was ludicrous—so insane it just might work. If he could be free of Lillith, yes this life would be worth living. But he would need to enlist the aide of a priest—no minor task for a creature with his proclivities.
Rhynos spun backward over the limb, an unconscious reaction, and plummeted again through the branches that avoided his form. The beast—the vampire was below now, a perfect target for his hate, rage and constant hunger. But, he wouldn’t let it take him from his thoughts.
There is a town not so far from here—his ragged bone claws pierced flesh, wrapping—along with his fingers—around the beast’s collarbones. His feet slammed into its back and with an immediate kick, he flipped forward. The vampire shrieked as Rhynos’ momentum shattered its bones and launched it easily into the air.
And there is a priest and priestess—husband and wife, if I recall correctly. The warlock closed the eighty-foot gap in less than two blinks of an eye, his target howling in fear, anger and agony. Rhynos’ claws flared green—channeling the energy he had always been connected to—as he launched into a flurry of blows to throw his opponent off its guard and push him back.
They could help—but the planning alone would take years. Rhynos’ left arm slammed through the sternum—piercing the bone, atrophied flesh, and black heart. The vampire screamed futilely as the warlock used his right arm to snap its neck. He leaned it, the beast’s healing slowed, and jabbed his fangs through its neck.
Cold—yet still invigorating—blood flooded his mouth. It, the vampire, twitched and tried to yelp. Rhynos just wrapped tighter around it, drinking in every potent drop of its unlife.
After a few moments, Rhynos detached himself. The body of his foe was quickly turning to a well-sculpted pile of ash, a monument that would blow away with the first kiss of a breeze. He stood, turning toward the small down and stalked forward—his path set.
Time means nothing in the darkness.
Hmmm...anyone think I should call this an update rampage?
And Halforc Halfbiscuit, I couldn't agree more--but I think it makes for good writing/reading
~Fune
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The warlock smirked into the night. He shifted slightly for a better footing; the hill he stood upon was covered in a week’s worth of heavy rain. The grass had been forced down into the muck beneath, fornicating with the mud until it had become a slippery mass of gunk any human would’ve had problems traversing.
Rhynos was no human, though.
His scowl increased with the passing of minutes, with old memories long lost to the time-devouring darkness. Lillith had been correct about that at least: Time meant nothing in the darkness. Years had passed, was it five, ten or twenty? Rhynos couldn’t say for sure. Existence had become mindless and numb—as numb as his unnatural body. Of course, slavery must seem mindless to the slave, he thought.
He bent down, stretching the tips of his fingers out into the dark. The familiar pain tingled and danced through the tips just as the flesh parted to the ragged, bony daggers. The wounds quickly healed, another benefit of this damned body.
But then the hunger—the demonic, never sated hunger—clawed at his breast again. It was always there, always lurking beneath the false surface of human flesh and bone yearning to be unfettered. Yearning to devour the world whole. It awoke every time blood was near, living or dead, it did not discriminate. Now, it craved Rhynos’ own blood, the few droplets he had sprayed into the mud-cloaked earth.
He focused, pushing the craving down and away from the here and now, away from his task. A scent drifted upon the night air—a putrid, death-filled scent of rot and immortality—but it was a scent only an animal or Rhynos would notice from so far off. Another vampire. Another beast bold—or stupid—enough to tread upon Lillith’s demesne. Another notch on Rhynos’ near-infinite list of kills.
The warlock shot upward, his legs extended fluidly and launched his body higher than any possible mortal. Silently, his body passed through the tight branches above, each sliver of wood bent away momentarily as if afraid to catch plague. He pierced the prison-like crossing of branches and landed upon a sturdy limb without a single scratch upon his perfect body.
Waiting for the walking corpse to near, he dropped into a sitting position and continued to traverse his mind’s memories. Memories of being naught but Lillith’s servant and occasional lover. Memories of being a beast in the dark, death incarnate for so many. The memory of Lillith whipping him incessantly and her light, airy laughter mocking him as the many open wounds sealed closed again.
But there were memories of his life before; leading so many men in the King’s useless army. Not that there were that many men in his unit—mainly goblins, orcs and the halfbreed orcs.
“No, my life is better now,” he determined. “Or would be if…”. The idea was ludicrous—so insane it just might work. If he could be free of Lillith, yes this life would be worth living. But he would need to enlist the aide of a priest—no minor task for a creature with his proclivities.
Rhynos spun backward over the limb, an unconscious reaction, and plummeted again through the branches that avoided his form. The beast—the vampire was below now, a perfect target for his hate, rage and constant hunger. But, he wouldn’t let it take him from his thoughts.
There is a town not so far from here—his ragged bone claws pierced flesh, wrapping—along with his fingers—around the beast’s collarbones. His feet slammed into its back and with an immediate kick, he flipped forward. The vampire shrieked as Rhynos’ momentum shattered its bones and launched it easily into the air.
And there is a priest and priestess—husband and wife, if I recall correctly. The warlock closed the eighty-foot gap in less than two blinks of an eye, his target howling in fear, anger and agony. Rhynos’ claws flared green—channeling the energy he had always been connected to—as he launched into a flurry of blows to throw his opponent off its guard and push him back.
They could help—but the planning alone would take years. Rhynos’ left arm slammed through the sternum—piercing the bone, atrophied flesh, and black heart. The vampire screamed futilely as the warlock used his right arm to snap its neck. He leaned it, the beast’s healing slowed, and jabbed his fangs through its neck.
Cold—yet still invigorating—blood flooded his mouth. It, the vampire, twitched and tried to yelp. Rhynos just wrapped tighter around it, drinking in every potent drop of its unlife.
After a few moments, Rhynos detached himself. The body of his foe was quickly turning to a well-sculpted pile of ash, a monument that would blow away with the first kiss of a breeze. He stood, turning toward the small down and stalked forward—his path set.
Time means nothing in the darkness.
HalfOrc HalfBiscuit
Adventurer
Funeris said:
Oh, I agree completely. My comments were intended entirely as a compliment.
Funeris
First Post
Chapter 5: Nightfall - Part III
Another quick update...I may get to one more before I leave on Thanksgiving break...but no guarantee.
~Fune
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The undead warlock clenched his fingers together. His grip was strong, almost unbreakable, but he held back from the force that would shatter the frail mortal’s windpipe. He waited patiently, just as any creature with an eternity of time to spare can. Slowly, the man’s face shaded; pale to pink, pink to red, and finally red to burgundy with a blue tint around the edges. Rhynos opened his grasp and the man slammed into the floor. He coughed and wheezed, rocking abjectly on the wooden strips of varnished wood. Before feeling and control could return to his lips, spittle spiked with a bit of blood slid down his chin, plopping with finality onto the floor.
“Why is it not done yet?” Rhynos demanded. He trembled, his closed fists seemingly white with rage. In truth, he was struggling against the demonic hunger again. Inside his chest it rose with a purely inhuman strength, despite having been quenched several times already that night.
“S—sir, it is a delicate process…”
“I DON’T NEED YOUR DAMN EXCUSES!! I NEED THE BLOODWINE!!!” [1]
“My G-g-g—god, Cael, has not spoken to me in some time. I am weak, I don’t know why. But that—that is why it is t-t-tt—taking so long.”
“ENOUGH EXCUSES!!!” Rhynos’ arm snapped out, closing tightly against the human’s throat again. He fought himself, he fought the beast. But the warlock watched as if a spectator; cast from his body by the hunger. The priest was raised again into the air with one extended arm. Cold fury was etched upon the false Rhynos’ face, upon the demon’s visage. The human kicked and flopped about like a dying fish pulled from a stream, his legs wobbling left, right, then circularly but his neck could not escape the grasp. A tingle of sensation caressed Rhynos’ consciousness where his fingers would be, where the talons of hardened bone would explode through his flesh and into that of his foes. Lines of blood trickled down the aged priest’s throat, staining his coarse and worn clothing.
“NO!!!” Rhynos screamed, banishing the beast and hunger. The priest flew across the room, smacking into the far wall heavily. With his will, the warlock retracted the claws and pulled at his own hair like a mad man.
He watched, waiting for a sign of life to stir within the priest. After several long moments, at least for the vampire, the cleric climbed to his knees, one hand grasping the shredded skin of his neck.
“What is your name?” the vampire hissed.
“M—M—Mo-” the priest stuttered.
Rhynos interrupted with a dismissing wave of his hand. “Never mind your name. It does not matter. I want the blood wine. All of it. You have until a few moments before sunrise. If it is not complete I will kill your wife. Even if Myr came down from the heavens to save this one priestess, I would drain every precious, delicious drop of life from her body before I too embraced the cold finality of true death. But I doubt her goddess would try to save her anyway. Mighty Cael doesn’t even help you to craft a poison!
“You will finish the poison. If you do not, the rape and torture I have subjected to her this past fortnight will mean nothing as to that which awaits her prior to eternal slumber. And if I am truly, truly upset with you, dear Priest,” sarcasm clung to the title as it slid out the warlock’s mouth. “Perhaps I will bless your wife with an existence eternal so that I may taste of her deliciousness for all of eternity.” Rhynos spun, swinging the door open. It slammed against the adjoining wall, rattling nearly off the hinges from his strength.
“But I will get her back?” whimpered the cleric, unsure.
“You have my word, priest.” The warlock slipped a hand into a pocket, withdrawing a small cloth. He tossed it carelessly onto the floor. “But don’t disappoint me.”
As Rhynos stepped into the dark forest outside the cottage, he heard a wail erupt from within its walls. No doubt he realized it was one of his wife’s fingers, he thought as his body slipped silently downward into the earth, swallowed whole by its natural embrace [2].
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[1] - Blood wine is from Libris Mortis (pg.74-75). It is a poison laced with garlic. In Norum da Salaex it is a bit more potent than the one described in the book though...
[2] - Vampires, vampires, vampires. I love variants. We (Rhynos' player and myself) crafted this variant based loosely against White Wolf's Gangrel clan. As such, they have extendable razor claws and can sink into the earth. They have some other abilities as well. Basically, I hate that all vampires are only of one "species" and all have the same faults. So, I've adjusted it a bit in my world...but haven't gotten very far in creating all the unique bloodlines.
Right...well...enough jibba jabba.
Another quick update...I may get to one more before I leave on Thanksgiving break...but no guarantee.
~Fune
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The undead warlock clenched his fingers together. His grip was strong, almost unbreakable, but he held back from the force that would shatter the frail mortal’s windpipe. He waited patiently, just as any creature with an eternity of time to spare can. Slowly, the man’s face shaded; pale to pink, pink to red, and finally red to burgundy with a blue tint around the edges. Rhynos opened his grasp and the man slammed into the floor. He coughed and wheezed, rocking abjectly on the wooden strips of varnished wood. Before feeling and control could return to his lips, spittle spiked with a bit of blood slid down his chin, plopping with finality onto the floor.
“Why is it not done yet?” Rhynos demanded. He trembled, his closed fists seemingly white with rage. In truth, he was struggling against the demonic hunger again. Inside his chest it rose with a purely inhuman strength, despite having been quenched several times already that night.
“S—sir, it is a delicate process…”
“I DON’T NEED YOUR DAMN EXCUSES!! I NEED THE BLOODWINE!!!” [1]
“My G-g-g—god, Cael, has not spoken to me in some time. I am weak, I don’t know why. But that—that is why it is t-t-tt—taking so long.”
“ENOUGH EXCUSES!!!” Rhynos’ arm snapped out, closing tightly against the human’s throat again. He fought himself, he fought the beast. But the warlock watched as if a spectator; cast from his body by the hunger. The priest was raised again into the air with one extended arm. Cold fury was etched upon the false Rhynos’ face, upon the demon’s visage. The human kicked and flopped about like a dying fish pulled from a stream, his legs wobbling left, right, then circularly but his neck could not escape the grasp. A tingle of sensation caressed Rhynos’ consciousness where his fingers would be, where the talons of hardened bone would explode through his flesh and into that of his foes. Lines of blood trickled down the aged priest’s throat, staining his coarse and worn clothing.
“NO!!!” Rhynos screamed, banishing the beast and hunger. The priest flew across the room, smacking into the far wall heavily. With his will, the warlock retracted the claws and pulled at his own hair like a mad man.
He watched, waiting for a sign of life to stir within the priest. After several long moments, at least for the vampire, the cleric climbed to his knees, one hand grasping the shredded skin of his neck.
“What is your name?” the vampire hissed.
“M—M—Mo-” the priest stuttered.
Rhynos interrupted with a dismissing wave of his hand. “Never mind your name. It does not matter. I want the blood wine. All of it. You have until a few moments before sunrise. If it is not complete I will kill your wife. Even if Myr came down from the heavens to save this one priestess, I would drain every precious, delicious drop of life from her body before I too embraced the cold finality of true death. But I doubt her goddess would try to save her anyway. Mighty Cael doesn’t even help you to craft a poison!
“You will finish the poison. If you do not, the rape and torture I have subjected to her this past fortnight will mean nothing as to that which awaits her prior to eternal slumber. And if I am truly, truly upset with you, dear Priest,” sarcasm clung to the title as it slid out the warlock’s mouth. “Perhaps I will bless your wife with an existence eternal so that I may taste of her deliciousness for all of eternity.” Rhynos spun, swinging the door open. It slammed against the adjoining wall, rattling nearly off the hinges from his strength.
“But I will get her back?” whimpered the cleric, unsure.
“You have my word, priest.” The warlock slipped a hand into a pocket, withdrawing a small cloth. He tossed it carelessly onto the floor. “But don’t disappoint me.”
As Rhynos stepped into the dark forest outside the cottage, he heard a wail erupt from within its walls. No doubt he realized it was one of his wife’s fingers, he thought as his body slipped silently downward into the earth, swallowed whole by its natural embrace [2].
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
[1] - Blood wine is from Libris Mortis (pg.74-75). It is a poison laced with garlic. In Norum da Salaex it is a bit more potent than the one described in the book though...
[2] - Vampires, vampires, vampires. I love variants. We (Rhynos' player and myself) crafted this variant based loosely against White Wolf's Gangrel clan. As such, they have extendable razor claws and can sink into the earth. They have some other abilities as well. Basically, I hate that all vampires are only of one "species" and all have the same faults. So, I've adjusted it a bit in my world...but haven't gotten very far in creating all the unique bloodlines.
Right...well...enough jibba jabba.
Spider_Jerusalem
Explorer
Funeris!
Hey, sorry for being a bit slow on showing my recent appreciation here! I have to say this SH keeps getting better and the gritty edge to the writing is really beginning to shine (?). Undead characters are tricky ones to handle! It'll be interesting to see how this progresses.
Anyway, have a good thanksgiving.
Spider J
Hey, sorry for being a bit slow on showing my recent appreciation here! I have to say this SH keeps getting better and the gritty edge to the writing is really beginning to shine (?). Undead characters are tricky ones to handle! It'll be interesting to see how this progresses.
Anyway, have a good thanksgiving.
Spider J
Funeris
First Post
Hey, no problem spidey. I do read your thread...so I know you've away a bit. And I had hoped that I had inserted my claws deep enough to lure you back eventually
I'm not sure "shine" is the correct word...but it'll do until we come up with a better one. Rhynos is a...fun character to say the least. For one, we had 50+ years of history to come up with...and that should just make any DM's day. Hobbitkiller, Rhynos' player, will probably de-lurk at some point. But I'm having fun with the vamp...and he's a crafty sort...running around with heroes...always seeming to agree with the "good" idea of what to do....he saves their asses on occasion....and all the while, he's pure, candy-flavored, arsenic-laced Evil. With a capital E.
I'll try to have a good thanksgiving. I'll probably be without internet...so I'll have to fall into my other vices. But I'll take the laptop with me...so I should have at least one update ready by Sunday night/Monday morning.
Until then....adieu.
~Fune
I'm not sure "shine" is the correct word...but it'll do until we come up with a better one. Rhynos is a...fun character to say the least. For one, we had 50+ years of history to come up with...and that should just make any DM's day. Hobbitkiller, Rhynos' player, will probably de-lurk at some point. But I'm having fun with the vamp...and he's a crafty sort...running around with heroes...always seeming to agree with the "good" idea of what to do....he saves their asses on occasion....and all the while, he's pure, candy-flavored, arsenic-laced Evil. With a capital E.
I'll try to have a good thanksgiving. I'll probably be without internet...so I'll have to fall into my other vices. But I'll take the laptop with me...so I should have at least one update ready by Sunday night/Monday morning.
Until then....adieu.
~Fune
hobbit_killer
First Post
De-lurking
Well I will take that as my cue.
I play Rhynos in this campaign and it has been a blast. I was a bit leery of playing an evil character and constantly ask Funeris if this or that is too much or if Rhynos should be "written out" and a more "party friendly" PC brought in. But we have decided to run with it and see what happens. And like I said, its been a blast for me.
A little history on our fanged friend:
I came into this campaign a little late and when I did enter, the rest of the group had undergone a bit of a transformation themselves. So the question was, do I want the same thing or should I go down a different route? Well, needless to say, I went a completely different direction. Funeris and I worked out the history and specifics and we rolled with it. A little while after this is when we started to spiral out of control as Funeris already mentioned. Funeris did an excellent job of fixing the situation (and I'll admit at first I was a bit worried it might turn out like the Dallas dream season) and got us into some intense RP heavy sessions that have been great.
But I'm getting ahead of myself and the SH. So sit back and enjoy, the campaign gets turned on its head in a bit...but that doesn't mean Rhynos loses his edge![:]](http://www.enworld.org/forum/images/smilies/devious.png "Devious :]")
And I don't mean to dissapoint Anti-Sean, but no one has yet given Rhynos the two things you have stated he needs most......although I did get some special attire from the waist up.
Well I will take that as my cue.
I play Rhynos in this campaign and it has been a blast. I was a bit leery of playing an evil character and constantly ask Funeris if this or that is too much or if Rhynos should be "written out" and a more "party friendly" PC brought in. But we have decided to run with it and see what happens. And like I said, its been a blast for me.
A little history on our fanged friend:
I came into this campaign a little late and when I did enter, the rest of the group had undergone a bit of a transformation themselves. So the question was, do I want the same thing or should I go down a different route? Well, needless to say, I went a completely different direction. Funeris and I worked out the history and specifics and we rolled with it. A little while after this is when we started to spiral out of control as Funeris already mentioned. Funeris did an excellent job of fixing the situation (and I'll admit at first I was a bit worried it might turn out like the Dallas dream season) and got us into some intense RP heavy sessions that have been great.
But I'm getting ahead of myself and the SH. So sit back and enjoy, the campaign gets turned on its head in a bit...but that doesn't mean Rhynos loses his edge
And I don't mean to dissapoint Anti-Sean, but no one has yet given Rhynos the two things you have stated he needs most......although I did get some special attire from the waist up.
Funeris
First Post
Chapter 5: Nightfall Part IV
Well, you all have Rhynos/hobbitkiller to thank this one--since he decided to de-lurk and share a few comments. So be nice folks and thank the wickedly evil vampire that just wants to devour your souls.
DISCLAIMER: THIS STORY HOUR IS STILL A GAME CRAFTED BY ADULTS FOR ADULTS. IF YOU ARE HERE...HAVE SOMEHOW MADE IT THIS FAR THROUGH THE GRITTINESS AND YET ARE OPPOSED TO SAID GRITTINESS, BLOOD LUST, NORMAL LUST, OTHER THINGS THAT GO BUMP IN THE NIGHT, AND THE TRUE DECREPIT NATURE OF SOME MORTALS' (AND IMMORTALS') SOULS...THEN BE GONE. I DON'T WANT TO GET WARNED/BANNED FOR THIS ONE. AND I DON'T WANT TO OFFEND (NOT MY INTENT--WHICH IS TO TELL THE TALE AS ACCURATELY AS POSSIBLE). CONSIDER YOURSELVES WARNED YET AGAIN.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“My dearest,” the warlock reached up and brushed a long golden strand of the priestess’ hair back behind one of her ears. She shriveled away from his touch, trying to force herself into the dank earth prison he had crafted. “No, no, no, that won’t do,” he had turned his attention to the stub of pinky which had managed to scab over during his nightly jaunt.
She continued to shrink back; becoming as small a target as possible. Her eyes darted around blind for the intense, pure darkness of the prison. Grinning, the vampire shifted downward, opening his mouth. The fangs elongated and he snapped his jaws shut. The scab as well as an eighth of an inch of flesh exploded into his mouth followed closely by a torrent of blood.
The priestess shrieked, slouching onto the damp floor. As the warlock released the finger—preferring to lap the life-giving fluid with the tip of his tongue—her body became rigid. Caution fell upon the vampire but too late. A burst of intense light flowed from the priestess, pushing the beast backward [1]. The tendrils of light trembled, mating, and became an orb of daylight.
Rhynos yelped as he dove back away into the shadows. Embarrassment now filled the walking corpse. He stood, as regally as possible—no hard feat for a creature cursed with immortality as well as an ego to match such a lifespan. Taking a pointless breath, the vampire stepped into the light. A slight tingling, the briefest memory of a summer breeze, warmed his flesh but did not increase into the realms of pain. The warlock laughed maniacally.
“You see, of course my dear, that this little blessing your goddess has given you has no effect upon me, a true god.” He soaked up the light and her fear, allowing both to invigorate him fully. The beast, the demon was in his gullet again, clawing to the surface of consciousness, of control. “No. And now you, a priestess of Myr, of light, are buried so deep within the earth that your goddess—even if she still lived—could not protect you.” The circle of light diminished, shuddering. “No one can protect you now. Not from me, not from the damnation I offer; you are cast out and broken.” The light failed and Rhynos was upon her.
The priestess’ scent filled every of his senses; her warm, delicious blood, the soft scent of her hair, and even the dankness of the earth seeping into her imprisoned flesh—he desired it all. He brushed the rebellious strand of hair behind her ear again, the warmth of her flesh tingling against his cold, dead hand. His hand slid down from ear to neck and over the rough rags she still wore.
A dagger slid from the edge of his finger—he couldn’t feel it; the beast was so close now—the cloth slipped around his talon and dropped limply to the floor. In the darkness, he noted the supple shape of her soft breasts with his eyes and then his hands. The monster dragged the edges of his fangs against her throat, two bubbles of blood formed into vivid lines along the flesh.
But he did not drink.
He moved lower, down, over the shapely body—feeling every soft curve, every shapely line. She sighed and leaned back, sinking to the floor completely—too weak for a fight. The slow, steady drip, drip, dripping of her wounded finger created a morbid rhythm for the beast upon her.
“I could give you life eternal,” he muttered from within the crease of her thigh. His hands caressed, the daggers elongating and shredding the first few layers of skin. She moaned; a sound equally filled with pleasure and pain. The light she had generated had vanished and it had taken the spark of light, the spark of life from her eyes.
“You could be my queen,” he stated in between his tongue’s gentle caresses and his fang’s greedy scrapes. “We could watch the world grow old, wither and die as all things but we do. We could rule, side by side, for eternity. All of this could be yours.” His claws wavered, yearning to dig through her skin and into her perfect, pure, holy body.
“No.”
Rhynos snapped up as if struck in the face. “What?!”
“No.” The small flame of life, of light had sparked again behind her blue iris.
“Your goddess is DEAD. And I will send your husband to meet her soon enough as well. You have nothing left in this world, NOTHING.”
“I will not damn myself. Take of me what you will, monster, beast born of blood, hate, and wickedness. When you meet your end, my goddess will still offer forgiveness. And do not be foolish, you will meet your end, true justice, long before this world withers.”
The vampire shrieked, his claws hungrily shredded into the small, juicy space between her nude ribs and hips, blood welled up over the talons.
“I forgive you,” she whispered. And then she thought, Myr forgive and protect me.
Rhynos screamed, rage fueling the beast, as his wickedness penetrated her again.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
[1] - As noted before, Clerics have spell like abilities gifted from their gods/goddesses. Followers of Myr can summon light, as the daylight spell. This of course ties back to the yin-yang concept of Myr and Cael being opposites that are forever attracted to each other--and produce the balance within the world. (Of course, I made the female aspect of the concept gentle and healing and good--whereas actually in modern myth the male aspect holds those qualities and females are granted roughness or hardness, evil, etc.)
And for real this time--I won't be updating again before I leave (in an hour or two). So, keep the thread warm for me until I return. Everyone (in America) enjoy your Thanksgiving! Those of you elsewhere...enjoy the rest of your week/weekend.
~Fune
Well, you all have Rhynos/hobbitkiller to thank this one--since he decided to de-lurk and share a few comments. So be nice folks and thank the wickedly evil vampire that just wants to devour your souls.
DISCLAIMER: THIS STORY HOUR IS STILL A GAME CRAFTED BY ADULTS FOR ADULTS. IF YOU ARE HERE...HAVE SOMEHOW MADE IT THIS FAR THROUGH THE GRITTINESS AND YET ARE OPPOSED TO SAID GRITTINESS, BLOOD LUST, NORMAL LUST, OTHER THINGS THAT GO BUMP IN THE NIGHT, AND THE TRUE DECREPIT NATURE OF SOME MORTALS' (AND IMMORTALS') SOULS...THEN BE GONE. I DON'T WANT TO GET WARNED/BANNED FOR THIS ONE. AND I DON'T WANT TO OFFEND (NOT MY INTENT--WHICH IS TO TELL THE TALE AS ACCURATELY AS POSSIBLE). CONSIDER YOURSELVES WARNED YET AGAIN.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“My dearest,” the warlock reached up and brushed a long golden strand of the priestess’ hair back behind one of her ears. She shriveled away from his touch, trying to force herself into the dank earth prison he had crafted. “No, no, no, that won’t do,” he had turned his attention to the stub of pinky which had managed to scab over during his nightly jaunt.
She continued to shrink back; becoming as small a target as possible. Her eyes darted around blind for the intense, pure darkness of the prison. Grinning, the vampire shifted downward, opening his mouth. The fangs elongated and he snapped his jaws shut. The scab as well as an eighth of an inch of flesh exploded into his mouth followed closely by a torrent of blood.
The priestess shrieked, slouching onto the damp floor. As the warlock released the finger—preferring to lap the life-giving fluid with the tip of his tongue—her body became rigid. Caution fell upon the vampire but too late. A burst of intense light flowed from the priestess, pushing the beast backward [1]. The tendrils of light trembled, mating, and became an orb of daylight.
Rhynos yelped as he dove back away into the shadows. Embarrassment now filled the walking corpse. He stood, as regally as possible—no hard feat for a creature cursed with immortality as well as an ego to match such a lifespan. Taking a pointless breath, the vampire stepped into the light. A slight tingling, the briefest memory of a summer breeze, warmed his flesh but did not increase into the realms of pain. The warlock laughed maniacally.
“You see, of course my dear, that this little blessing your goddess has given you has no effect upon me, a true god.” He soaked up the light and her fear, allowing both to invigorate him fully. The beast, the demon was in his gullet again, clawing to the surface of consciousness, of control. “No. And now you, a priestess of Myr, of light, are buried so deep within the earth that your goddess—even if she still lived—could not protect you.” The circle of light diminished, shuddering. “No one can protect you now. Not from me, not from the damnation I offer; you are cast out and broken.” The light failed and Rhynos was upon her.
The priestess’ scent filled every of his senses; her warm, delicious blood, the soft scent of her hair, and even the dankness of the earth seeping into her imprisoned flesh—he desired it all. He brushed the rebellious strand of hair behind her ear again, the warmth of her flesh tingling against his cold, dead hand. His hand slid down from ear to neck and over the rough rags she still wore.
A dagger slid from the edge of his finger—he couldn’t feel it; the beast was so close now—the cloth slipped around his talon and dropped limply to the floor. In the darkness, he noted the supple shape of her soft breasts with his eyes and then his hands. The monster dragged the edges of his fangs against her throat, two bubbles of blood formed into vivid lines along the flesh.
But he did not drink.
He moved lower, down, over the shapely body—feeling every soft curve, every shapely line. She sighed and leaned back, sinking to the floor completely—too weak for a fight. The slow, steady drip, drip, dripping of her wounded finger created a morbid rhythm for the beast upon her.
“I could give you life eternal,” he muttered from within the crease of her thigh. His hands caressed, the daggers elongating and shredding the first few layers of skin. She moaned; a sound equally filled with pleasure and pain. The light she had generated had vanished and it had taken the spark of light, the spark of life from her eyes.
“You could be my queen,” he stated in between his tongue’s gentle caresses and his fang’s greedy scrapes. “We could watch the world grow old, wither and die as all things but we do. We could rule, side by side, for eternity. All of this could be yours.” His claws wavered, yearning to dig through her skin and into her perfect, pure, holy body.
“No.”
Rhynos snapped up as if struck in the face. “What?!”
“No.” The small flame of life, of light had sparked again behind her blue iris.
“Your goddess is DEAD. And I will send your husband to meet her soon enough as well. You have nothing left in this world, NOTHING.”
“I will not damn myself. Take of me what you will, monster, beast born of blood, hate, and wickedness. When you meet your end, my goddess will still offer forgiveness. And do not be foolish, you will meet your end, true justice, long before this world withers.”
The vampire shrieked, his claws hungrily shredded into the small, juicy space between her nude ribs and hips, blood welled up over the talons.
“I forgive you,” she whispered. And then she thought, Myr forgive and protect me.
Rhynos screamed, rage fueling the beast, as his wickedness penetrated her again.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
[1] - As noted before, Clerics have spell like abilities gifted from their gods/goddesses. Followers of Myr can summon light, as the daylight spell. This of course ties back to the yin-yang concept of Myr and Cael being opposites that are forever attracted to each other--and produce the balance within the world. (Of course, I made the female aspect of the concept gentle and healing and good--whereas actually in modern myth the male aspect holds those qualities and females are granted roughness or hardness, evil, etc.)
And for real this time--I won't be updating again before I leave (in an hour or two). So, keep the thread warm for me until I return. Everyone (in America) enjoy your Thanksgiving! Those of you elsewhere...enjoy the rest of your week/weekend.
~Fune
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