NSWRPF Archive The Realm of Darkness: Ultimate Fantasy

IC as Arjin

Ur-Karpathos, Ocklimar's Cave of Wonders, Item Shop

Arjin's supernatural hearing allowed him to hone in on the conversation effortlessly while he put up the pretense of examining Ocklimar's many goods.

"Think Azhmodin would try something Azhmodin could not purchase? Pay Azhmodin will, but Azhmodin thinks you have more important customers here at present." The beast's voice was in a ragged guttural series of grunts.

" ...But I haven't even told you the price plus, you did visist my shop first, good sir." Ocklimar interrupted, obviously attempting to steer the conversation with a wooden smile playing on his lips.

The effect was ruined by a wince on the part of the human. Though courageously he stood his ground. Arjin was impressed at the patience of the shopkeeper; if it had been him he'd have staked the ignorant beast from the get go.

"Go and deal with the... Blood Drinker, Azhomdin does not wish to be in its presence more than Azhmodin has to. Azhmodin also has more business than the cloak Azhmodin is wearing currently."

Though he maintained a veneer of outward apathy, inwardly Arjin felt his blood rush. If the shopkeeper chose to believe the impressive nostrils of the werewolf Arjin would be forced to take extreme acttions.

"M-more purchases? of course." Ocklimar said this in an obviously disbelieving voice. As the proprietor looked the strange beast up and down Arjin felt relief replace the tension that had been building within; still he maintained the stoic expression.

"Tombolinn!!" hollared the portly shop owner at the top of his lungs. Apparently he had some clerk or another in the back.

Immediately a wretched goblin appeared as if summoned by an encantation or some other magic. "Yes, Master?" he said, smiling nervously. He rubbed his hands incessantly as his dark eyes darted from Ocklimar to the werewolf and back. Typical goblin.

Ocklimar leaned down and gave the goblin a stern look. He whispered to him in harsh tones.

"Where have you been?" he demanded, but waved off the answer. "Listen, I want you to get an item for me. I'm not about losing any sales here." He cupped a large hand to the goblin's pointy ear then relegated the information. Tom's eyes widened, then he shook his head in understanding.

Arjin strained to hear the whipered words yet they danced at the end of his perception like a breeze fluttering through ones hair.

"Now git to fetchin'" Ocklimar rasped.

"Yikes! at once Master!"

With a quick dash, Tom was gone. Nimble.

Assuming that the Southern Merchant had been watching, Ocklimar turned in his direction and smiled.

"Be with you in a moment kind sir." He said to Arjin.

"Take your time worthy merchant." Arjin replied only half paying attention.

Holding fast to the same smile, he now turned to the beast. "Well then, the cloak is fifteen hundred negotiable gold pieces. Very potent magics, you understand. We also accept gems and or jewels as payment after they've been appraised, of course." After speaking thusly Ocklimar glanced at a statue. Hmmm...

"Is there anything else I can help you with?"

Oddly the shopkeeper seemed to visibly relax after thht remark. Perhaps the merchant was using magic.

Ocklimar squinted at the werewolf and said:

"With all due respect, but you did intimate that you possessed a rather capable purse."

He then gave a slight bow, indicating respect to the stranger for having such deep coffers.

Arjin happy that he had remained undiscovered awaited his item and, made ready his precious gem. Ocklimar would find it worth any item in his store.

Tag: Greyjedi, Trimaj

 

Viudos Estate, Main Gates

The Four Red Guards at the Gates saw a well dressed figure stepping out of the mist and moving in their direction. From the looks of him he appread to be a Nocturne, but everyone knew that appearances could be deceiving. A talented enough doppleganger could attempt to pass for another nocturne, but proving your identity, that was something entirely different. The intricate House Rings, Seals and Sigils were almost completely impossible to duplicate without magical assistance of some sort. In those cases where a fake was finaly discovered, the perpetrator deserved his fate, no doubts about that. The Dark Dungeons of Necrosgolgoth housed the bones of many a Master Forger who never did learn to put a cap on his greed and ambition until it was far too late.

The Red Guards kept cool and collected as the apparent vampire reach them. The one in charge stepped forward.

"Long Night m'lord, how may we serve?"

None present had ever laid eyes upon Ishmael in their lifetime as was often the case in human-vampire societies such as this. Such situations illustrated a few of the reasons why the established protocols existed.

The Red guard gave a slight bow and waited for the apparent vampire's response.

Tag: Exodus 411

*************************************************

Necrosgolgoth, Barrenlands, Euthanos Province

The Coven of Euthanos which was comprised of arcane vampire mages, was named after the Elder Lord who founded the order more than 500 years ago. Presently it was presided by Lord Gnos Raptor who was sired by Euthanos himself. The coven had it's own headquarters right outside of Gnos Raptor's estate. The Barrenlands were an ideal place for it, given the fact that the natural environment around it had been greatly twisted over the centuries from the use of dark magics. All was darkness and twisted shapes. All manner of foul creatures walked the barrenlands. Needless to say, the human population here was nearly non- existent, and those that did reside here were quite adept at 'dealing' with their surroundings.

But tonight there was a different focus. Word had reached the upper echelons that the Dark Lady had entered the Dark City of Ur-Karpathos. Tenebrikus was a proven vampire and a dark mage with a growing reputation within the ranks of the coven. It did not take him long to finally find Aeron Malisk within the dark cloister, the fledgeling and practicioner of 76 years was attending to his duties as he performed a small sacrificial ritual before the enormous statue of The Reaper. This was just one of several different dark entities represented within the cloister.

Like all members of the coven, Tenebrikus also wore a hooded black cloak that concealed his pale features, however, instead of the ubiquitous staff, he carried an elaborately decorated osseous wand neatly tucked inside his garments. He spoke in the usual dark tones common to teh order as he approached his younger charge.

"Long Nigt to you Aeron Malisk, the hierarchy has a very important task for you this night. Word that the Dark Lady has entered the dark city has reached us. It would seem she is attending a young Nocturne's undeath anniversary." Tenebrikus thought for a moment, then consulted a piece of parchement.

"Nocturne Matahari Viudos of the House of Ash." he announced with just a hint of distaste.

"The Dark Lady is a significant figure in Necrosgolgoth and our coven wishes to pay it's respects."

Tenebrikus reached into his black robes and produced two small boxes, indentical in design except for their colour. One was green and the other was black.

"The green box is a gift to the Nocturne Mistress Matahari, after all, it is due to her celebration that such an opportunity has presented itself. It would not do to show up without a gift. The Black box you must deliver to the Dark Lady herself along with these sealed parchements. The green and black seals corr

 

IC: Azhmodin

Ur-Karpathos, Ocklimar's Cave of Wonders, Item Shop

"M-more purchases? of course." Ocklimar shook his head. This werewolf was unlike any. The few that came in contact with the citizenry on rare occassions belonged to one of three groups. The Lykan Tribes, The Garou Shamans, or the Wild Lupines. This one bore no markings, no bone jewelry, or mystic brand, yet there was something about him Ocklimar couldn't quite figure out yet. As a merchant he knew things, that's why he was surprised he could put his finger on it...and to further complicate things, now the Beast was making outrageous claims.

His grin broadened at this. He knew he was driving the other crazy, but it was well worth it for the fun it afforded him. Fun he hadn't had in far too long. He also noticed that the other didn't respond to his comment at the vampire in their midst.

"Tombolinn!!" hollared the portly shop owner at the top of his lungs.

Immediately the goblin reappeared. "Yes, Master?" he said, smiling nervously. His rubbed his hands incessantly as his dark eyes darted from Ocklimar to the werewolf and back.


Azhomoding sighed with the return of the scrawny goblin. Oh how Azhmodin would love to gnash his bones, and chew his flesh. Azhmoding has not tasted flesh in far too long... Drool started to slip out the side of his mouth at the thought, but he quickly stopped it.

Ocklimar leaned down and gave the goblin a stern look. He whispered to him in harsh tones.

"Where have you been?" he demanded, but waved off the answer. "Listen, I want you to get an item for me. I'm not about losing any sales here." He cupped a large hand to the goblin's pointy ear then relegated the information. Tom's eyes widened, then he shook his head in understanding.

"Now git to fetchin'" Ocklimar rasped.

"Yikes! at once Master!"

With a quick dash, Tom was gone.

He was extremely amused at the shop keepers attempt at secrecy, with a werewolf and a blooddrinker in his shop what hope did he have of concealing his words? None. Azhmodin supposes it is the appearance of the thing though. He put his hand to his belt pouch and felt the many gems there, but there was one in particular that he thought would cover things here. A rare thing that he had taken out of a arch-mage's tower.

Assuming that the Southern Merchant had been watching, Ocklimar turned in his direction and smiled.

"Be with you in a moment kind sir." He said to Arjin.

Holding fast to the same smile, he now turned to the beast. "Well then, the cloak is fifteen hundred negotiable gold pieces. Very potent magics, you understand. We also accept gems and or jewels as payment after they've been appraised, of course." Ocklimar involuntarily looked at the large stone statue looming in a dark corner against the far wall.

"Is there anything else I can help you with?"

Ocklimar did not look directly at the werewolf, but past him and over his shoulder. He noticed one particular set of magical glyphs glowing softly over the main entrance to his shop. The effect lasted briefly. Ocklimar sighed in visible relief, however, he was no fool. There was still a very real and very mighty werewolf standing directly before him already wearing his merchandise.

He squinted his eyes and made everything fuzzy, then looked at the werewolf and said:

"With all due respect, but you did intimate that you possessed a rather capable purse."

He then gave a slight bow, indicating respect to the stranger for having such deep coffers.

Azhmodin glanced at the blooddrinker again, and sighed. Apparently he had given the merchant far too much credit. "Azhmodin said as much, yes Azhmodin did. Azhmodin wonders... does Ocklimar dare risk insulting one of the... Blooddrinkers by sending a lesser to deal with his business? Unless Ocklimar knows the Blooddrinker wants to be undiscovered..." He grinned maliciously. He had said this in one of the other languages of his kind, one he felt that the shopkeeper would know, and that any su

 

IC: Pzaroth
Location: Mercant Row, Followed by Ocklimar's Cave of Wonders, Ur-Karpathos

Pzaroth drifted down the night street, happy as an undead wraith could be. The Undead City was perfect, better even than he remembered it. The night air was perfectly cool, and the sky, darker than dark. By what magic made the sky so perfectly raven black, the Wraith would never know, but he loved it all the less. No stars. No moon. Nothing.

He looked at the people as he passed. Oh the living. They were a little more courageous here, seasoned merchants who had learned to deal with all sorts of dastardly beings. This was all well by the wraith. He was not one of those dark souls that desired fear... generally he found those types lacking in confidence. Those types of darklings needed fear in order for them to feel important. They desired a rise, anything to make them seem powerful.

Pzaroth knew he was powerful. He didn't need others to tell him that.

The wraith stopped, looking down the street. Hmm. There was just so many things to do and see. The choices were stunning. And all perfectly twisted. Shadowy hotels with creaky boards. Dusted stores with twisted metal hangings. Streetstands with hairy vendors, a bit deformed and pale for living in the city of the night. Their greed was amazing... like theives almost.

But then, a sign caught his eyes... Ocklimar's Cave of Wonders.

Hm. Something about the store urged him to enter. The wraith began walking to the store. He was looking for some magical impliments. A Cave of Wonders would serve as such a place he would think. And Ocklimar. Ocklimar. Ocklimar. The name sounded familiar. Where did he hear that name before? Commericals perhaps? Or some sort of unwritten fame?

He didn't worry about such things as he stepped through the door of the shop. It was perfectly dusty and old, and he could sense a vast variety of magical items in the place. The creeky floorboards of the shop barely sounded as the wraith, having little weight at all, moved through the store. There was what looked like a werewolf standing by the counter, looking quite fierce and bristly. The ghostly wraith simply watched the scene, the darkness from under his hood staring out at what must be Ocklimar and the werewolf.

Most interesting.

The wraith almost didn't see the Vampire standing nearby. Wait. Half Vampire. His life force was muttled and fuzzy. Intriguing. Pzaroth paid him little heed. There were Vampire breeds and associates all over the city. And they always tended to be quite uptight about those who stared.

Pzaroth would wait his turn, listening to what was said between the two as he turned to gaze upon Ocklimar's wares. He could imagine how it looked to the shopkeeper and Vampire, the ghostly wraith simply moving about his shop. It must have been quite...... disturbing.

TAG: GM, Hand, and Trimaj

 

Shadowmancer

Necrosgolgoth, Dominion of the Dark, Northern Callanthorith

There was no place like home. Whispers among the humans spoke of an event within the realm. Whispers among the other classes spoke of a party. And, talk among Vampires revealed Nocturne Matahari Viudos' fiftieth undeath Anniversary Celebration. Vandranok smiled. There was nothing quite like being undead.

He stalked the streets of the Dark City, Ur-Karpathos, moving with such elegant grace that he seemed an integral part of the darkness that plagued the shadowlands. Aware of the presence of so many curious eyes, there was no need for concern. Vandranok felt no fear of those that might be watching him, but that did not necessarily mean he would simply walk out into an open courtyard for all to stare at and observe.

A flash of motion and he was hidden from sight, a shadow in the dark. It was Vandranok's time to watch, and watch was what he did. His eyes narrowed slowly as he came to rest his dark gaze upon one such being, one that might have observed him had he remained idle.

Lilith Thornn was an attractive creature, wrapped in her thorny bodysuit. She was also a Nocturne. She had followed Vandranok into the courtyard, but he had not remained within the open. What would he gain from allowing her to sneak up behind him? Not any true measure of respect, certainly.

She just stood there, still. There was no doubt that she was extending her senses to encompass her immediate surroundings. Vandranok thought the sight interesting, and he admired the creature's shapely form as he moved and shifted within the shadows. A minute must have passed, him watching her all the while, before he stepped into the open, the beginning of his breaking free of the darkness.

To her credit, Lilith turned slowly as Vandranok approached her rear. His gaze was set and his expression composed as he observed the woman's hands, which had been shaped into monstrously lethal claws, only to be hidden behind her. Her eyes shifted in colour and Vandranok felt her catch sight of him as he breached his seclusion.

He looked upon her with pleasant curiosity. They had only met a handful of times, but Vandranok knew of her, and he admired both her skill and her allure. Was that surprise that he detected in her? Uncertainty? It was sad, really. So few were able to challenge him and tempt him. Perhaps he simply misread her. She was more than a pretty face, after all. She was the Mistress of Thorns from House Maraud.

Lilith offered him a respectful bow. "Long Night Master Vandranok. I am honored by your unexpected presence. What is your pleasure this night?" She graced him with a welcoming smile.

"Pleasure?" he asked, as if the word were a foreign concept. His expression remained passive, and he remained silent. His eyes weighed Lilith, however, and soon a polite smile formed upon his lips. "I am to attend a celebration. Will you come with me to see Matahari Viudos?"

 

Ishmael

Viudos Estate, Main Gates

As Ishmael emerged from the shadows before the Viudos Estate, he was met by a few of the Nocturne's guards, incompetent humans if ever he saw any. His long, deep green coat rippled behind him as he approached the guards, who had by this point bowed down.

"Long Night m'lord, how can we serve?" inquired one, apparently the leader of the pitiful group.

"You can start by allowing me entrance into the celebration," Ishmael retorted, shifting his hand so that his House Ring and Insignia were plainly visible. He loathed having to prove himself again and again, though he knew that it was not without cause. There were many who would go to great lengths to improve their standing within society, including him, and traitors could be found around every corner. His mind shuddered at the thought of the vampirical prison, Necrosgolgoth. How he pitited those stupid enough to be sent there! Failures, all of them. He hoped never to be caught.

"Is there anything else you need to see?" Ishmael impatiently asked the guards. "Lest I rip you to pieces!" he thought to himself, allowing a smirk to form on his lips despite his impatience. If the stupid, incompetent humans would not let him pass, then he would have to pass anyway. Pity for them if they didn't.

Tag: GJ

 

Lazarus Rose
A Campsite (around W-29)

Weapons of war? What weapons of war? How tiresome?well, how scary. Come to think of it, this was really rather frightening. Lazarus shook his head as if to lift himself from his daze, but it didn?t really work. He was always like this when he hadn?t had enough sleep. And now this old man was jabbering on about something or the other, someone who wouldn?t last much longer or something similar. Lazarus grabbed his staff. It was useless, mostly ceremonial in purpose, though he had hit a stubbornly slow horse with it once, and it had seemed to do the trick. Other than that, he had absolutely no combat experience with it whatsoever. And he didn?t particularly want that to change now. Why did it have to happen to him? All he wanted was a peaceful, uninterrupted journey to the Realm of Darkness. He could get his fill of danger and death once he was there. He wasn?t keen on it coming to him.

?Very well,? he said hesitantly to the old man. ?I?m ready. Do lead the way.?

He followed, yawning, and trying to keep his mind off whatever horrors they were currently dreaming up for him.

Tag: gj125

 

Quick Note: Thankfully, I'm not dead yet. ( Nor undead. Oh well.) Which means that your UPDATE should be coming up soon. Once again, I'd like to thank you all for your patience during this time, it is greatly appreciated and it shall be rewarded. Nuff' said.

 

~GM Approved~

Name: Ravana Ak'chazar
Species (Lifeform): Rakshasa
Gender: Male
Age: 137
Faction (Allegiance): Dark Realm
Home: Haunted Wood
Place of Birth: Haunted Wood

[image=http://www.wizards.com/dnd/images/MM35_gallery/MM35_PG212.jpg]

Ravana is a evil creature spawned in the Haunted Wood, he belongs to a vile and devious race known as the rakshasa. As with all of his kind he appears to be a cross of both man and tiger, and posses not only enhanced physical attributes but a natural magical aptitude. Ravana has dedicated his life to the study of dark magic, and almost all of his ambitions involve the aquisition of mystical knowledge or powerful artifacts.

---

[b]IC: Ravana Ak'chazar[/b]
[i]Location: Ocklimar's Cave of Wonders, Ur-Karpathos[/i]

In Ur-Karpathos many denizens of the unnatural world walked the streets openly, in fact it was commonplace to see at least a dozen varieties of undead. A traveller arrived earlier that day his path took him from the Haunted Wood, a place that he called home but one that had become a stranger to him in the past years, more and more often his unending quest for truly powerful magic kept him away from his home and this was something that he felt true regret for.

As he walked through the streets and alleyways he looked upon the buildings and people with contempt, even the thought of sharing the same air offended his sensibilities, next time he needed something from [b]Ocklimar[/b] he would send a carriage and have the merchant come to him. Finally after what seemed like an hour of trudging through muddy streets and smelly citizens [b]Ravana[/b] rounded a corner that brought him to the street that Ocklimar's shop was on. He could see a wraith enter the door he was headed for, as was to be expected, [b]Ocklimar[/b] was widely known for his rare and exotic treasures.

The Rakasha could barely suppress the excitement he felt when he heard the bell of the front door ring as it opened, he had come to the Cave of Wonders many times and was on friendly terms with [b]Ocklimar[/b], which really only meant that the merchant was happy with the amount of gold Ravana left behind. Sometimes he was even allowed to stay past closing hours and examine more obscure items that were kept off the shelves, but this trip was not merely to make a purchase.

The Rakasha, a rare and mystical creature whose very being was said by many to be only legend, walked from the streets and into the shop. His keen eyes quickly found [b]Ocklimar[/b] and as the door shut he nodded in greeting to the familiar purveyor of magical goods. He had noted a change in the merchants normal demeanor and that could only indicate something was amiss, so he decided to stay close to the door for now just in case.

[b]Tag: greyjedi125, IH, Trimaj, HoS[/b]

 

Ur-Karpathos, Ocklimar's Cave of Wonders, Item Shop

Azhmodin glanced at the blooddrinker again, and sighed. Apparently he had given the merchant far too much credit. "Azhmodin said as much, yes Azhmodin did. Azhmodin wonders... does Ocklimar dare risk insulting one of the... Blooddrinkers by sending a lesser to deal with his business? Unless Ocklimar knows the Blooddrinker wants to be undiscovered..." He grinned maliciously. He had said this in one of the other languages of his kind, one he felt that the shopkeeper would know, and that any supposed shopkeeper would know as well. However those that weren't wouldn't know it as werewolves reserved it for merchantkind only.

Ocklimar was momentarily surprised by the werewolves knowledge of 'merkantilli' and briefly wondered how he'd learned the secret language of merchants, however, his curiosity vanished as he shook his head slightly at the werewolves claims.

He kept insisting that there was a Vampire within his shop. Rather than to argue the point with the creature before him, Ocklimar sighed deeply.

"To the business at hand..." he suggested, affecting a genial nature.

Meanwhile,Tombolinn continued to search fo the object in question. There were so many locked boxes in the shop's store room. If he could only remember exactly which one it was.

Back on the 'sales floor', Azhmodin untied his bag and reached into it, pulling out the gem he had been feeling for. It was a Jaundice gem. It was a deep ruby red in the middle, but it flowed out into a bright green, almost emerald in color. They were exceptionally rare, and extremely useful to mages, and magical pracitioners. He could likely buy the shop itself for the gem, but he didn't care. He wanted what he wanted out of it, and it would leave the shopkeeper a very dear friend most likely, even if it were a friend he despised. Sadly, it was the only one he had heard tell of during his rampage tthose years ago or he'd have found more. This would likely leave him fairly poor, at least for the present time. However, he deemed the price worth it to get the needed supplies. "Azhmodin thinks this will suffice for whatever price we agree upon... for all Azhmodin's purchases. Azhmodin hopes it will give Azhmodin some credit too, but Azhmodin understands if Ocklimar simply cannot afford to do so." He grinned at the mind game he was playing, but he wondered... where had the more civil words come from?

Ocklimar had the gem in his hands as soon as it was offered and found himself scrutinizing it with great interest. Although he did not have his appraising equipment with him and was not looking directly at the werewolf, he was obviously still listening.

As it was, the gem did not appear to be flawed, but to determine that for certain Ocklimar would need his tools. As far as profit was concerned, he could only forsee making a substantial gain if the gem was sold chiefly to a Mage, or several mages for that matter. But this was Ur-Karpathos. There were plenty of dark mages, wizards and sorcerers that made the Dark City their home.

The Shopkeeper sighed deeply once again.

Ironically, just like the Jaundice gem in his hands, the Balaurian Cloak was just as rare. Though coveted by many, despite it's steep price tag, the item was not easy to sell due to the simple fact that it would be extremely difficult to repair should it suffer damage however unlikely that possibility seemed to be.

Never the less, there was a potential buyer, a fledgling who sought to become a proven and was currently working on improving his personal effects. Though it was true that Ocklimar and the fledgeling had not reached a final agreement on the cloak, but rather had entered a stage of extended negotiations, the cloak was technically still for sale.

Technically.

Now this overzealous werewolf probably could smell magic and had to go and pick the very cloak in question to purchase.This did not bode well at all. Ocklimar didn't need to wager any gold pieces to know bad luck when he 'fel

 

IC as Arjin

Ur-Karpathos, Ocklimar's Cave of Wonders, Item Shop

The werewolf spoke in a language that Arjin had never been exposed to. Probably some dialect or another from the barborous Lycan clans. Arjin shrugged it off.

"To the business at hand..." Ocklimar suggested, affecting a genial nature.

Somewhat impatiently Arjin awaited the arrival of the little goblin with his item. The sooner he got to Matahari Viudos' party the better.

The Werewolf pulled out a jewel that fairly reeked of magic. "Azhmodin thinks this will suffice for whatever price we agree upon... for all Azhmodin's purchases. Azhmodin hopes it will give Azhmodin some credit too, but Azhmodin understands if Ocklimar simply cannot afford to do so."

Ocklimar quickly examined the Jewel with obvious interest. Apparently the Jewel was special. If it was Arjin couldn't divine why.

The Shopkeeper sighed deeply once again. And paused for a moment deep in thought. Apparently this transaction entailed much more than was obvious.

"Unappraised as it is, your gem pays for the Cloak alone....in full." Ocklimar said carefully. "I could see about affording you some credit in a few days, say four or five?"

The bell above the door rang with startling clarity through the store... and Arjin glanced at the new arrival... then did a double take, a Wraith allowed to roam free in Ur-Kaarpathos? Usually their ilk were assassins and spellcasters of the worst sort. Arjin warded himself once more.

"Ravana? Ravana Ak'chazar?", The Shopkeeper said, obviously acquainted with the tiger-man.

"As usual, your presence as is uncanny as ever...." the shopkeepr said to his mystical friend with a level gaze, which he then turned towards the Werewolf and then the Wraith.

At long last, the wretched goblin returned from the back carrying his item. IWth this he would be able to keep from under the thumb of any mystical foe.

"The item you requested this is..." Tombolinn announced a bit excitedly, still catching his breath after looking in so many locked boxes, but before he could open the box, he froze. His eyes grew as wide as possible as they looked past Arjin.

Turning around to follow the goblin's line of sight. Arjin's eyes widened as well. An armed Talon, stood ominously in the store... even Arjin's keen senses had been bypassed by this one.

He almost went for the magical sword... but restrained himself. Talons were notorious for their martial skill, besides to attack one was to call down the wrath of the Nocturnes.

Deciding that discretion was the better part of valor Arjin. Stood quietly to the side. More calmly he rationalized that the Talon was far more likely to be after the unholy wraith or the psychotic werewolf, than after he himself. Still he remained close to the sword... just in case.

Tag: Trimaj, Greyjedi, IH, Despised1

 

IC: Azhmodin

Ur-Karpathos, Ocklimar's Cave of Wonders, Item Shop

Ocklimar was momentarily surprised by the werewolves knowledge of 'merkantilli' and briefly wondered how he'd learned the secret language of merchants, however, his curiosity vanished as he shook his head slightly at the werewolves claims.

Azhmodin nearly chuckled at the surprise in the merchants face when he spoke 'merkantilli.' Oh yes, many surprised does Azhmodin have, many, many indeed. His tongue started to hang out the side of his mouth, but he didn't notice.

He kept insisting that there was a Vampire within his shop. Rather than to argue the point with the creature before him, Ocklimar sighed deeply.

"To the business at hand..." he suggested, affecting a genial nature.

Azhmodin nodded, his tongue wagging a little as he did so.

Ocklimar had the gem in his hands as soon as it was offered and found himself scrutinizing it with great interest. Although he did not have his appraising equipment with him and was not looking directly at the werewolf, he was obviously still listening.

As it was, the gem did not appear to be flawed, but to determine that for certain Ocklimar would need his tools. As far as profit was concerned, he could only forsee making a substantial gain if the gem was sold chiefly to a Mage, or several mages for that matter. But this was Ur-Karpathos. There were plenty of dark mages, wizards and sorcerers that made the Dark City their home.

The Shopkeeper sighed deeply once again.

He stood there, waiting for whatever the Shopkeeper would say. Sigh does this merchant many times. Azhmodin wonders, does merchant a breathing problem have? His grin continued to stay in place, but somehow it seemed deeper and more heartfelt than it had before.

After another moment, the shopkeeper managed to speak.

"Unappraised as it is, your gem pays for the Cloak alone....in full." Ocklimar said carefully. "I could see about affording you some credit in a few days, say four or five?"

Now it was Azhmodins to sigh, the grin fading from his face. Too long! Azhmodin needs things now. Apparently there woudl be no swaying the merchant on this though. He would just have to see about shortening the number of days a little.

Awaiting a response befiting a werewolf, Ocklimar looked slowly away from the gem in his possession and regarded the new owner of the cloak, alas, but before anyone could answer, the door to the shop opened and admitted a new 'customer'. Ockilamr's eyes widened in surprise.

Pzaroth stepped through the door of the shop. It was perfectly dusty and old, and he could sense a vast variety of magical items in the place. The creeky floorboards of the shop barely sounded as the wraith, having little weight at all, moved through the store. There was what looked like a werewolf standing by the counter, looking quite fierce and bristly. The ghostly wraith simply watched the scene, the darkness from under his hood staring out at what must be Ocklimar and the werewolf.

Azhmodins eyes widened in surprise at the stench of death that entered with the door opening. A wraith had just entered the shop. One of the few beings Azhmodin had no desire to mess with at all he stood passively, trying to not attract attention to himself. One of the Insubstantials. Azhmodin does not likey them.

Another voice spoke from the back of his mind, No, Azhmodin, we do not like them. We want nothing to do with that one. Avoid it. Again Azhmodin didn't realize these thoughts were not his own as he shared the sentiments completely.

The expression upon the shopkeeper's face was beyond incredulous. There was a wraith roaming freely in his shop. The Cave of wonders was no place for such a being. Shaking off the initial shock, Ocklimar begins to move, intent on intercepting the Wraith, but to his surprise and unintentional annoyance, the door to his shop swings open once again. Ocklimar shot an exasperated look th

 

Ur-Karpathos, Ocklimar's Cave of Wonders, Item Shop

Between the Rakshasa, the Wraith and the Werewolf, it was the werewolf and his wonderous blade that finally commanded Ocklimar's attention. Doing business at death's door was business as usual, at least in this city.

"Azhmodin can not wait that long. Three days. Azhmodin returns in three days for his other needs." Looking around again he wondered if the other thing he wanted were even in the store. "Shopkeeper has a specific dagger? A mate for Azhmodins other blade?" He drew his scimitar and offered it to the shopkeeper. He knew the shopkeeper would have heard of this weapon, Kleinmacher, just as he would know the enchantments upon it. The never dulling blade was sharper than a razor and unbreakable.

Silently, the corpulent shopkeeper expertly took the bladed weapon in his hands and examined it. He looked over the runes inscribed upon it and recognized some elven characters, but they looked ancient, however, the written pattern seemed vaguely familiar to him. Inside Ocklimar's mind, a memory was triggered. He had studied a similar pattern among many others, long ago. It was likely that he learned of them when he studied how to recognize forged elven artifacts, but this....this was no forgery. The gem in his pinky ring glowed fiercely and Ocklimar drew in a breath.

Kleinmacher or no, this was a formidable elven weapon and it currently belonged to this Werewolf. Ocklimar allowed himself to shiver. The very concept was frightening. The cloak....the weapon, the monster himself. The shopkeeper felt that he was at the edge of a dream....no, not a dream. A nightmare. He had a very bad feeling about all this, a very bad feeling, but he also felt that there was little he could do to affect it.

After a slow exhale, Ocklimar found himself nodding in regards to the three days the werewolf had mentioned earlier. So absorbed by the magnificent weapon was he, that he missed the werewolf's change in facial expression. Whatever sounds he emitted were relegated as normal.

As the werewolf struggled to regain his composure his gravely voice came out almost as a squeak. It was an odd sound hearing a werewolf speak in that tone of voice. "Azhmodin... Azhmodin would like a blade... blade fitting to this swords companion to be reserved." The speech mode was going back and forth between two different types as he spoke. "I will pay... pay whatever Azhmodin can't he does not have from this...," With that he motioned to the Jaundice gem in the shopkeepers hands, "at a date which later is."

The blood drained from Ocklimar. Very slowly he turned his head to regard the beast. Had he just spoken in an odd voice? and was it refering to himself when it called out the name Azhmodin?

The Werewolf let the shopkeeper look over the sword for a few moments and took it back, not wanting it out of his possession for very long given his current circumstances. He didn't resheath it immediately, looking at it, captured by the runes that were engraved over the wavery metal.

Ocklimar kept himself from thinking too many big thoughts as he blew out a breath. He briefly looked at Ravana, before he addressed the werewolf.

"Then it's agreed. Three days. A long night to you sir, and....good hunting." he said, giving the Feral Beast a small bow.

Ocklimar banished any unpleasant implications the last part of his sentence may have had and set his eyes on the wraith. He wasn't looking forward to dealing with the wraith, but it was inevitable. One business transaction was concluded, though not as ideally as he would have liked, and now it was time for another. With only a hand gesture, he motioned for the Rakshasa to follow.

Nearby, Tombolinn regained his wits and moved a few paces away from the Talon's piercing gaze, not that it made any difference as far as the Talon was concerned. For a second, Tom cringed, as he tried not to think of what could happen if things got 'nasty' inside the 'cave'. Battles involving Talons were notorio

 

IC as Arjin

Ur-karpathos, Cave of Wonders

"This way.." said the diminutive Goblin to Arjin as he waved for the tall humanoid to follow. They moved to a nearby display of potions were they could speak without interruption. The wretched Goblin's excitement was clearly apparent as they strode away from the Talon.

The little goblin put his hand over the lid of the box, but did not open it. Instead he stood on a crate and looked up at Arjin, eyes glinting. The Goblin meant business, and his demeanor spoke to this loudly.

In the measured tones of savvy merchants, Tombolinn began to make his sales pitch. "Inside this box is an Amulet of Undetection. Powerful magics it contains. No mere mage would be able to detect you, nor any mind find you, nor scrying object reveal you. Even your aura would be hid, but from the most capable of eyes and magikers, so beware who you make as an enemy."

Arjin's years of examining features came in handy as he picked up the slight hitch in the disgusting creatures features. Something was off. The hell if Arjin knew what... but he would surely find out.

"Though it is worth far more, and you do seem like the likable sort, I'll make you a deal. For a mere 3000 gold pieces, this Amulet could be yours. It also makes a perfect gift."

After a moment of thought Arjin replied, "I may decide to make this a gift for the honored Lady Matahari Viudos at her party this night. In order to remain in her good graces it would be prudent to not displease her, is there any other information about this... Amulet of Undetection?"

In fact Arjin had no such intentions, as his gift would be his sword for as long as she should need it. But the annoying little creature didn't need to know that and, bringing the Nocturnes into any discussion usually compelled compliance.

Tag: Trimaj, GJ, IH, Despised1

 

Viudos Estate, Main Gates

It was during these festive occassions that protocol needed to be carefully observed, and it was for this reason that the red guards were hired. When it came to dealing with Nocturne society, these humans possessed the most experience and they had the best track record.

At least Nocturne Mistress Matahari Viudos could rest assured that her gold was well spent.

A Young Nocturne had appeared at the gates and was asked to identify himself, which he did, but not too happily.

"Is there anything else you need to see?" Ishmael impatiently asked the guards after he had produced the proper means of identification.

To their credit, none of the red guards reacted to the fledgeling's show of irritation. His reaction was one they actually expected and were quite used to.

"That will be all m'lord. Please, proceed this way."

The red guard moved without waiting for a response as he lead the young vampire to a nearby carriage house. There was already a horse-drawn carriage and it's coachman waiting for him. Walking to the manor proper was not an option, at least not tonight. Besides, walking up to the mansion after a quarter mile was ill-recommended.

The boarding process took but a few moments as the coachman kept the horse at ease while the vampire entered the carriage. The guard gave a formal salute, then turned. Immediately after, the carriage departed for the Viudos Mansion. Ishmael rode in luxurious comfort as the carriage transported him to his destination. Soon he would be deposited at the steps of the Viudos Mansion and greeted by many of her servants. Soon, he would be in the company of his peers.

Perhaps then he would see what mysteries the night held for him.

Tag: Exodus 411

************************************************


At the Estate of Nocturne Mistress Matahari Viudos

Both Mistress Matahari and the Dark Lady had their every comfort catered to. A handful of carefully chosen Vanity maids were offered to the Dark Lady should she feel the need for them, otherwise they stood in waiting. There was plenty of entretainment about them, but as expected, Nocturnes were particularly challenging to please. Castor and Pollux did all in their power to liven things up for their Mistress, lest she become irritable.

But at the moment all seemed to proceed well enough and without incident. Mistress Matahari was engaged in conversation with the alluring Dark Lady as several locals of varying degrees came to pay their respects. She barely noticed them as several of her female servants acted as proxy and accepted their gifts, well wishes and petitions.

As it was, the two nocturnes had a perfect view of the entire floor. Beyond the places of honor was the Ball Room. Next to it was a large ornate stage with closed drapes softly illuminated by Chandeliers. Before the stage, several rows of velvet upholstered seats were already in place and seemed to wait in eerie silence for their guests to take their place before the commencement of a grand spectacle. But none of that seemed to draw the attention of the Lady of the House.

Mistress Viudos smiled charmingly as she spoke with the Dark Lady, her tone relaxed and easy going.

"Well, I must admit that Ur-Karpathos has been a somewhat uneventful place for the past couple of years, I don't imagine that the same is true for the Haunted Woods."

Matahari gave a little wave of her hand, dismissing the ludicrous notion even as she leaned slightly.

"What I find interesting however..." she said in a conspirational tone, " Is that the human augurs and fortune-tellers have been talking of bad omens and ill-portents for sometime now."

Matahari allowed herself a musical, yet scornful little laugh.

"I have little confidence in the accuracy of their reports, however, if a being of your status and arcane knowledge had any opinion on the matter....that is to say, certainly you would know if something of interest was to befall U

 

IC: Azhmodin

Ur-Karpathos, Ocklimar's Cave of Wonders, Item Shop

He nodded his accordance with the shopkeeper. Having gotten everything he was going to during this excursion he looked around the store, noticing what everyone was doing. The cursed Blooddrinker was completing his business with the goblin. He also noticed that Ocklimar left the Insubstantial one on it's own, wanting no more to do with it than any other present. The Rakasha went with the shopkeeper towards the back of the store.

He considered leaving, but there was something that drew him to the Insubstantial one. He wasn't sure what he would do with the thing, but he would see what it's business was, and maybe... maybe get a job of his own. Azhmodin so longs for flesh. The succulent taste... the smooth feel... He tried to turn his mind from those thoughts yet again, not able to do anything about them at the moment.

Are you sure about that? the voice asked. We could harm the goblin... or maybe the Talon?

Azhmodin thinks harm you mean to him. Listen he will not. He shook his head and swept over to the Wraith, his new cloak billowing behind him.

Looking over the shadow he wondered what this being could possibly want here. What could it possibly need, or even handle at a place such as this? "Insubstantial killer, your name Azhmodin wonders what is. Tell him you will?" Waiting patiently he heard the voice again.

If he doesn't, you ought to kill him I think. Or at least harm him. No malice or anything similar was felt in the thought, just cold. Pure cold, as if it couldn't care less if the thing came to harm.

Azhmodin started to fear this voice, giving him more ideas that he already wanted to fulfill on his own. He really didn't need help from something bloodthirsty in his mind.

TAG I_H, HoS, GJ, DESPISED

---

[b]IC: The Voice[/b]


[blockquote][i]The fool, doesn't he know the evil he is walkign amongst? This Wraith needs to die, not be aided.[/i] The voice was mad, and it wished it could let Azhmodin know that. If he did though his hand would be tipped even more. He sighed mentally, and wished the other would make itself known. Having someone else to talk to might be useful at this point.

Looking threw the bodies eyes he saw the insubstantial shadow of the Wraith in front of him, waiting patiently. [i]These are the things I used to kill... Why must I now help them? Because I have no control...[/i] He 'screamed' to himself. He made sure Azhmodin wasn't able to hear his thoughts at the moment, or his scream. [i]Curse this corrupt moron. He can't even speak correctly. He shouldn't be the one in control![/i]

Out of nowhere another voice whispered in the back of his 'mind,' [i]I know brother dear. We will depose him soon enough.[/i] With that is was silent, as if it had never existed.

[i]Sister? Are you really here stil? Did he not seal you away?[/i] The voice was desperate for other contact. Contact that wasn't tainted with madness.

There was no response.
[/blockquote]

[b]TAG NO ONE/ MYSELF[/b]

 

Hmm....Trimaj, you have a PM.


******************************************************************************

Lazarus Rose

The old man was oblivious to the man's hesitations and only grew more excitable as Lazarus rose from his cot and got to his feet.

"Come! Gather your weapons! Save them from calamity you must! If you succeed, then your reward will be inmense! Had I your youthful vigor I'd done the deed myself, but these brittle bones are not what they used to be. Come and follow me."

The old man urged Lazarus to hurry. He even offered to share some treats to give him energy for the upcoming battle. He could have some as they went on their way.

"We must not delay, every moment we tarry...."the old man's voice trailed off suddenly, as abject fear seemed to penetrate his very soul. To his credit, the oldman summoned a busrt of courage and fought it off. He dared not think ill in his mind for fear that his thoughts might come to pass. The last thing he wanted was to exacerbate the situation.

"You are our LAST HOPE..." he said and almost choked on his emotions. Unshed tears welled up his tired eyes, but he managed one last air of defiance towards an evil Lazarus had yet to be informed about.

"This way!!" the old man beckoned, fully expecting Lazarus to follow.

Tag: Winged_Jedi

 

IC: Ravana Ak'chazar
Location: Ocklimar's Cave of Wonders, Ur-Karpathos

"Ravana? Ravana Ak'chazar?" The shopkeeper said, tentively at first, but with the increasingly more confidence. "As usual, your presence as is uncanny as ever...." the shopkeepr said to his mystical friend with a level gaze, which he then turned towards the Werewolf and then the Wraith.

The Rakshasa nodded with understanding, his initial instinct of something being wrong was correct and if the trouble was not too dire he would maybe give his assistance to his friend. Maybe. There were many potential drawbacks to involving oneself in a fight here, given the number of customers and the easy access to any number of potent magical item the situation could go downhill fast.

With but a brief glance he noted the lycanthrope, a wraith, and another who although appeared normal had the scent of death about him, ancient death. He could not place it, but he suspected that the well dressed man was more than he appeared. And the lycanthrope was enough to set his nerves on end as Rakshasa were often confused as being of that ilk, nothing could be further from the truth and even the mention of it sent most Rakshasa into a fury.

Now that he had an better understanding of his surroundings his mind began to unconciously wander through potential spells, and he had a few that surely would be useful if needed. But it was then that the atmosphere of the room changed, a underlying sense of unease was slowly spreading and at first Ravana could not fathom why, but upon looking toward Tom and the one smelling of ancient death he knew, a Talon.

Horrible beings, creatures of darkness and power, in their wake only despair and destruction was sown. Why was it here? For what purpose would a Talon come to this merchants shop? Ocklimar was either the seller of the most sought after items in the entire realm, or he was the unluckiest merchant ever to be born. With a look of amusement and pity he turned his bestial eyes back to the merchant, and a laugh almost escaped his mouth as he saw the man sweating under the stress of it all.

Tag: gj125, Hand, Trimaj, IH

 

OOC: umm... sorry GJ , guess i misread something. just have to wait and see how I_H responds.

 

The Dark Lady - At the Estate of Nocturne Mistress Matahari Viudos

Al'terla consumed the tasty items she had picked, as she watched the Tenepres Charmers performe with a guardian Naga. So far, the evenings events had gone well. Matahari Viudos was pleased with her gift. Al'terla, in her role as the Dark Lady, had been well received indeed, and so far, she was amused with the nights activities. But she knew that the evening was far from over, and more was to announce itself, before the night was done. Soon, Mistress Matahari joined her, and their every comfort catered to. A handful of carefully chosen Vanity maids were offered to the Dark Lady, otherwise they stood in waiting. Al'terla valued them a polite smile, but did not partake of their services, for truly, she had no need for them. Her magics made sure that things stayed as they should be. If she felt the need, invisible hands were there, to take care of her needs. There was plenty of entertainment about them, but it seemed as if Mistress Matahari had other plans, as she engaged in conversation with Al'terla. Several beings came forward, to offer well wishes, and petitions, and were quickly diverted by Matahari's servants. It seemed as if Mistress Matahari had much on her mind, and did not wish to brook interference from anyone, as she talked with Al'terla. Al'terla merely observed.

As it was, the two Nocturnes had a perfect view of the entire floor. Beyond the places of honor was the Ball Room. Next to it was a large ornate stage with closed drapes softly illuminated by Chandeliers. Before the stage, several rows of velvet upholstered seats were already in place and seemed to wait in eerie silence for their guests to take their place before the commencement of some grand spectacle. But for now, it was Matahari Viudos that held her attention. Mistress Viudos smiled charmingly as she spoke with the Dark Lady, her tone relaxed and easy going. "Well, I must admit that Ur-Karpathos has been a somewhat uneventful place for the past couple of years, I don't imagine that the same is true for the Haunted Woods." Al'terla smiled, as she listed to the young woman. It was obvious what she was attempting to do, so Al'terla endulged her by quietly listening. Matahari gave a little wave of her hand, as if dismissing the statement, even as she leaned towards Al'terla slightly.

"What I find interesting however..." she said in a conspirational tone, " Is that the human augurs and fortune-tellers have been talking of bad omens and ill-portents for sometime now." Matahari allowed herself a musical, yet scornful little laugh. "I have little confidence in the accuracy of their reports, however, if a being of your status and arcane knowledge had any opinion on the matter....that is to say, certainly you would know if something of interest was to befall Ur-Karpathos. In fact, any word from you would certainly hold sway in Nocturne Society." Mistress Matahari Viudos held the Dark Lady's gaze for a brief moment as she let her words hang between them. She waited for the Dark Lady's response, but frowned slightly as a servant approached. Matahari gracefully turned her head and gave the servant a hard look, which caused him to cringe, but not to retreat. Meanwhile, Al'terla's eyes twinkled in amusement, as Matahari turned to deal with the intrusion. It must be important indeed, if the servant was willing to risk his mistress's ill humor. With a gesture communicated through her expressive gaze, Matahari excused herself and bid the Dark Lady to stay her answer a moment longer. Al'terla watched the proceedings with calculated interest.

"You may approach me." Matahari said evenly to the servant who immediately did as he was told and fell down on one knee. He never looked up, but when he spoke, fear and adoration were evident in his voice. "Mistress, I've been commanded to inform you that two carriages are on approach. The first is a guest carriage, transporting a member of House Bellacroix. The second is the official coach of the City's Gran

 

OOC:*Snow of Paperwork*

Holy Hells...

Sorry I'm holding up the show here...

This RPG will be bumped to the top of the list...

Hopefully I can get a post up today or tomorrow...

I'm still here though!!!

-I_H

 

OOC: As promised...

---

[b]IC: Pzaroth [/b]
[i]Location: Mercant Row, Ocklimar's Cave of Wonders, Ur-Karpathos[/i]

Pzaroth stood, waiting his turn diligently as Ocklimar dealt with what struck him as a very tempermental werewolf. When their business was completed, the man seemed to move over to the Wrath, when suddenly, Pzaroth's attention was drawn elsewhere. The werewolf with the hot temper had dared to approach him. Pzaroth took a deep breath, the beings life presence shining brightly within him. It was like an aroma, sickeningly sweet.... entoxicatingly toxic. At least it was no vibrant hero. The light in their souls were the worst of all.

[i]"Insubstantial killer, your name Azhmodin wonders what is. Tell him you will?"[/i] the beast hissed.

Pzaroth simply stared back at him, as if it took him a minute to comprehend what just happened. Its soul-light was strong, but cold. Like a reverse sun, its rays spreading the chill of darkness over the land.

Ocklimar arrived at the conversation and opened his mouth to speak. But Pzaroth raised one of his armored hands up, signaling silence. He would deal with the shopkeeper after this one was finished.

"I am known as Pzaroth." the Wraith said simply. His voice rung of funeral bells, church organs, slamming of stone coffins, itself not especially deep, but distinctly dark and gloomy. The Wrath didn't feel the need to elaborate, as him name was all that was asked of him. The stare from the darkness from under his hood tended to deliever a very powerful message anyway.

As Wraiths generally were not the most chatty of creatures, it simply waited for the werewolf to leave or continue with its interrogation. Beings like Pzaroth tended to have an infinite supply of patience, as time had no meaning to the undead.

[b]TAG: Trimaj and GJ if he so wishes [/b]

 

IC: Aeron Malisk

Aeron was finishing off a sacrificial ritual when he rose to hear the familiar voice of Tenebrikus, he looked to the Vampire and nodded, as Tenebrikus explained about the assignment wich involved a small trip to Nocturne Matahari Viudos of the House of Ash, he would have to drop off two pacages to there corresponding recipients, it didn't seem too difficult "I accept this task", Aeron was about to take the parcels when a thought came to mind "May i ask what is in Nocturne Mistress Matahari's package" Aeron said curiously Aeron took the packages and placed them into his robes.

TAG: greyjedi125

 

Voide
Estate of Nocturne Mistress Matahari Viudos

From the deep and protecting shadows above the Viudos estate, a silent figure emerged. He moved as the darkness did, sweeping elegantly around and past the various statues and protrusions that dotted the roof of the sprawling mansion. A black cloak trailing behind him, the man's hooded head would reveal nothing save a stray strand of long blonde hair that would occasionally find itself slipping into what little ambient light remained. The figure moved quickly, sometimes seeming to vanish only to appear on the other side of an obstruction.

However, nobody would know this, as nobody would be seeing him. The chances of The House Mistress having guards on the roof was less than nil, and Voide was as his name suggested, appearing as though he didn't exist.

Perhaps that was the reason he had not received an invitation to such a prestigious event, then? Could it be that they had overlooked him simply because of the fact that he was a phantom; A whisper on people's lips and a brief thought in a Nocturne's mind?

Perhaps. But all the same, the Shadow Demon was more than a little intrigued. The turn-out would be spectacular. Beside the obvious appearance of Mistress Viudos, there was talk all around the dark lands of rather high profile guest. Including the likes of The Grand Magister, and the Nocturne known as The Dark Lady.

It was Voide's kind of party.

Stalking quickly and quietly across the roof, he could hear the party below. It sounded like everyone was having a wonderful time, which was odd considering their lifestyles. Reaching the end of the roof, Voide gripped the edge of it, swinging down to get a good look inside. He positioned himself in front of window that was, at the moment, un-occupied, and gazed within. He saw little other than a dimly lit hallway and light coming from further away.

A smile slipped up his face as his blue eyes gleamed in the minimal light.

Oh yes, I am glad I decided to invite myself...

Tag: Nobody really. Greyjedi if he wants to add anything.

OOC: Just wanted to let my presence be known. I have decided to not enter the scene, yet.

 

Introducing, as approved by greyjedi125, Caemlaria and Alintha.

---

Name: Lady Caemlaria of the House of Minnaleia.
Species (Lifeform): Nocturne Vampire.
Gender: Female.
Age: 342
Faction (Allegiance): Dominion of the Dark: Nocturne Society
Home: Necrosgolgoth
Place of Birth: Ur-Karpathos, the Dark City

Name: Alinthalliana Sacromania
Species (Lifeform): Vampire Fledgeling. (Recently been given the 'gift').
Gender: Female.
Age: 22
Faction (Allegiance): Dominion of the Dark: Nocturne Society
Home: Necrosgolgoth
Place of Birth: Ur-Karpathos, the Dark City

[hr]

Callanthorith was a vast region, spanning a great distance in each direction a compass could allow. It served as the home for the gigantic City of Men, and as the place to house the central Merchant City where trade flourished and villagers from the surrounds prospered. Far to the north, between the high peaked mountains from the west and those snowy protrusions from the east, was a land of darkness. Necrosgolgoth was a nightmarish place where evils lurked and reigned across the Shadowlands. What unfortunate few ever managed to venture within were usually not so fortunate as to ever again see the light of day.

Within that land, on the outskirts of a disreputable locale, was a small, modest estate, which boasted glimmering, blood red lanterns at the entry into its gates. Lady Caemlaria of the House of Minnaleia walked through those gates on her way to a promising party of interest. She had not been invited to attend the undeath celebration of Matahari Viudos, but since when had an invitation stopped Lady Caemlaria of doing anything she pleased?

"Come, child," she said, scolding her renfield. No, not a renfield anymore, the girl was a fledgeling. Caemlaria's violet lips spread into a warm, secretive smile. She turned and raised her hand and waited for her companion to reach her.

Alintha bowed her head low and did not raise her eyes to gaze upon her mistress as the woman touched her shoulder. The young fledgeling remained still as she felt the soft caress of her mistress' hand against her neck until it came to rest beneath her chin, where it pressed upward ever so gently. And, as Alintha brought her head to ascent at the gestured command, her eyes were caught in the gaze of the most beautiful creature she had ever seen.

Lady Caemlaria wore a long, deep purple gown. Her fingers were adored with amethyst rings, which sparkled in the faint moonlight, while her stunning gold necklace radiated sheen to rival that of the bright sun Alintha had never yet set eyes upon. Her stunning face, perfect and soft and loving, might have been motherly if it were not so alluring.

Seeming to know the younger woman's thoughts, Lady Caemlaria's lips parted and she smiled. Her canines lengthened into fangs as she stepped forward and stroked the pale cheek of her servant. She could feel the blood flowing through Alintha. It burned with hatred, and boiled with passion; the girl felt hatred toward her forsaken world, and passion to the attractive creature that offered her freedom.

Alinthalliana sighed softly and began to fall. Her eyes closed ever so slowly and her knees gave way. Yet she did not fall to the ground, but rather into the arms of Caemlaria, her mistress and protector. She felt herself passing into semi-darkness as her heart quickened its pace in anticipation of the ecstatic pleasure she soon felt course throughout her entire being.

Slowly at first, she heard the sound of horses trotting through the night. When she opened her eyes to the sound, Alintha met the striking gaze of Lady Caemlaria. The beautiful lady smiled at her. It was all Alintha could do to smile in return.

She could not explain what happened next or how she knew.

The young fledgeling raised her hand to her breast, and ever so gently brought it up toward her shoulder, touching her own exposed skin. She slid her pale hand across her collarbone toward her neck, and, there, she felt an indentation. Two incisions. She frowned.

How did she come to be in the