Fantasy Hunter's Moon [IC] [CLOSED]

[Emperor Sagan]

With Velin gone, Aleister was silent. He no words he cared to speak, for he did not wish to rend his heart any more. He ached - not physically - but spiritually. It was as if his own soul had been beaten bloody. He could only offer a tired sigh in response to Camille as she spoke to him, his eyes also lingering on the Duke's body as she turned away to leave.

He did so as well... yet that venomous flame flared up within him again at the sight of Francis, and he leveled one last withering look at the man.

"If you harm innocent people... I will come for you, and I will kill you. If there is even a modicum of honor in that black pit you call a soul, then think, for a simple moment, on what is is you are even fighting for. This world doesn't need demons. It needs protectors. I will wage an endless holy war in the name of those that require protection from the horrors of this world if that is what it must take. Don't stand on the wrong side. You already wear the mask of a thirsting devil. Don't make this world any worse than it already is."

Aleister glanced at the other members of the inquiry, nodded imperceptibly, and turned to leave as well. He wanted - needed - to go home. To get his family away from this place first and foremost, and then to rally his friends.

There was work to be done.

 

[joshuadim]

Ethraeil did not care for what Velin had to say, especially trying to order him to go back into servitude and bondage under the church. It might as well have been an insult of the worst kind, for it was enough to snap Ethraeil out of his trance as Velin left. He shivered with rage as he silently got up and did the exact opposite of what Velin said... he began to walk away. He silently walked away without so much as saying any words to the inquiry and descended down the keep, through its halls and eventually made his way outside. And... and now he didn't know what to do. Aimlessly he walked away from the keep without so much as a thought towards anyone else. He looked down at his feet, seeing the dead soil part under his feet as he walked forwards.

But then something peculiar happened. The ground changed. No longer was is dead, but now brimming with life. He quickly darted his head up and noticed that he wasn't in Black Hollow anymore... nor even on Grimtham Isle. How... what? Ethraeil thought to himself in shock. And then he heard a familiar voice from behind.

"Obviously, things did not go according to plan did they monsieur?"

Ethraeil quickly turned around and saw the same man from before, the man in raven black. Ethraeil took a defensive posture as he stared at the man for a bit before speaking up. "YOU. What do you want?" he asked with a hostile tone.

"Perhaps the question you should be asking is... what do you want, oui?" he said with a gentle smile under his cowl.

Ethraeil stilled for a moment before speaking. "I... I want Sazak dead for all the crimes he has committed. I want him judged for all the atrocities he has planned. I want him strewn out like the dog he is. Yet... none of that matters now." he said as he looked away. "He now wields the weapons of two gods. Accursed weapons... there is nothing that can be done. The Inquiry has failed to do what it was sent out to do... I failed Va-"

Ethraeil choked up for a moment with genuine grief in his voice. "I f-failed Valeria..." he said as he looked to his hands. "What good am I... IF I CAN'T KEEP A GODDAMN PROMISE!"

Ethraeil slammed his fist into a nearby tree, shattering it and causing it to fall over, much to the man's displeasure. He shook his hood as Ethraeil fumed and raged in silence. The lich could barely hold himself together at this point, as he was a mess of grief, rage, and confusion.

The figure only walked over solemnly, as if it lamented the tree's sudden demise before turning to Ethraeil once more. "What if, I told you that what you most desire is still yet attainable?"

Ethraeil slowly turned his head towards the man, with a look laced with anger and suspicion. "How? "

"You must return to Kere'nuile, and reclaim what you once had forsaken. To become once more the very thing you hate, but rather than live up to its name you use it for your new crusade against darkness. Take up your mantle of Lich King-"

"No." Ethraeil quickly spat out. "I refuse to be anything but that ever again."

"Monsieur," the figure said as he shook his head in disapproval "I can assure you that if you do not, you will only be hunted down like a dog by Velin. She ordered you to return did she not? And now you're here. Far, FAR away from any Church. In other sense, this is your only good move in a losing hand."

Ethraeil could hardly believe what he was hearing, he was being coerced. But in a sense, it was true. Velin would have him hunted and executed for not returning to slavery, and would not be safe no matter where he went. This was his only move he had left indeed.

"...so I head there... and then what?" he asked cautiously.

The man only smiled in response. "You'll know then."

And then he vanished in a vortex of feathers as a raven flew away into the distance.

 

[Breadman]

Thedorore looked at his inquisitor's badge after Velin disapeared as she left. He just threw it away. "Deliver that message yourself, you divine bitch." He was done with the order. If it was going to follow Valin blindly, the goddess who refused to acknowledge those who sacrificed for her and welcomes men like Francis in open arms he did not want to have a part of it. This is not what he signed up for. "I'm going to deliver a final report and then hand in my resignation. I'm afraid that Valeria's fate might not be as anonymous as I initially planned it to be." He said to whoever would listen. Which looked to be just about nobody as the remainder of the inquiry dispersed.

"Wesley, Galina I hope you'd accompany me on the trip back. It would help if there was someone to talk to on the way back." He said as he was walking past the boy, passing by Francis he would just say in a dry tone "Congratulations Francis. Men like you won. Enjoy the future."

 

[K0mori]

Francis took the threat from Aleister without responding aside from an unhappy sneer on his face. It wasn't because he had nothing left to say, but rather because he could tell that the creature was on the brink of violence at that very moment and, aside from his currently unloaded shotgun, Francis was unarmed. Moreover, he had abandoned his armor, and didn't intend to reuse it after the terrible dent it suffered at the Duke's hand.

Plainly, Francis was keen to accept Aleister's threat as it was, because it was convenient as well. The reality was that, in Francis's eyes, there were no innocent parasites. He killed vampiric children once, when he burned their family's makeshift tent home in the woods outside Westerly - one of the "kills" he had so openly bragged about to Valeria once - and they weren't even strangers to him.

He had taught those kids before their parents were turned, and turned their kids in kind. He didn't stop to ask, but assumed that they had done so in an effort to preserve their family. They didn't want to send their children into the arms of an adoptive family, or to live a nocturnal life which rendered them inadequate as parents to children they would watch grow up, age, and die before their very eyes, and so they turned them... It created an "eternal" family. Francis knew those children had done nothing wrong, but he didn't feel ashamed for ending them. He was proud, as their lives were forfeit the moment they became monsters, and he would gladly do it again.

Aleister's threat, deep down, was actually a promise. Francis would inevitably kill "innocents," which meant Aleister would someday attack him. And Francis wanted this, as it would give him an excuse to finally kill the fraudulent, blood-sipping priest.

To Theodore, who somehow blamed the Inquiry's failure on "men like him," rather than the weak-willed Orders which allowed a pureblood to attain a duchy and seek godly artifacts of power in the first place, Francis cocked a smirk and replied darkly, "maybe someday, but not today, monsieur."

He then departed for Westerly.

 

[Infab]

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EPILOGUE

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As Winchester said he would, he sent a letter to the Church officials on the mainland. It soon reached the Church in Eternis. It wouldn't be long before several representatives from the Divine Church would arrive on Grimtham Isle, with two battalions of Atracan forces. Peltragow was secured, and any remaining members of Archer and Wallace's forces were rounded up and imprisoned. Porthcrawl was requarantined, until the numerous undead corpses could be cleaned out of the burning city. Survivors were located inside the city as well, and were promptly taken care of.

Airedale was turned into a sort of operations post for forces arriving from the mainland to deal with things. The church in Airedale was quite active during the day and night, as Church officials and members of the Order attempted to cover the events that had occurred on the island as well as the extent of the Duke's plans. The Duke had murdered countless aristocrats during the events at the manor in Tresomin. Several vampires had been slain, which alarmed members of the Church as to how high up the vampires had managed to place themselves in modern society without being noticed. The officials had been from all over: Atraca, Escaria, Tsavania, Daristein, Eshax...the list went on and on. The Duke really had been planning a total takeover once he had mastered the ring.

In the days following the Church intervention, numerous members of the local population began to notice strange occurances. There was a rise in 'deja vu' moments, where people would see something they had already seen happen previously. Small things like seeing the same cat cross the street twice in the same direction. A bird flying out of a nest in a tree, only to somehow fly away again out of an empty nest. A tree that had been cut down days prior was being recut as it had somehow stood itself back up. The oddities were scattered and varied, but still certainly strange.

 

[Viper Actual]

Galina just shook her head. She didn't even acknowledge Velin's words beyond a sigh followed by a scoff. "I'll go with you," she said to Theodore.

"I must warn my House as well. I have a strong feeling that things are far from over."

Om her way out from the room she nodded towards Ethraeil, Aleister and Camille. No words were spoken.

 

[EdwardDewey98]

The doctor looked at Jakob, as he slowly walked along with the help of a wooden railing next to him. His recovery progress was outstanding to the doctors watching over him. Of course, they were completely unaware of his true nature, and of the slow but important regenerating factor his body has. He's still incredibly blessed. Aleister's holy magics managed to prevent any serious and irreparable damages to his spine. "H-How am I doing, doc?" asked Jakob, while halfway along the bar. "Incredible, simply incredible, constable. A week more of exercise, and you'll be able to get back on duty, if you so desire."

Jakob let out a little chuckle. "N-Nah...I'm retiring after this. I have...a few projects in mind. Go back to my homeland down south." The doctor nodded as Jakob reached the end of the wooden railing. "Alright, Mr. Phillomon, just a few exercises more and you'll be ready to go! Now, where are the crut-" The Doctor looked to his side, and noticed something odd. "Uh...Nancy, didn't you put the crutches here?" A young swampfolk nurse came into the room, looking to the doctor slightly confused. "I did, doctor...Huh, where are they?" She looked into the cabinet, where they stored the walking crutches. She was shocked to see that they were in there. "This...is weird. I swore I placed them there for mister Phillomon." The doctor looked just as puzzled, as Jakob made a slightly uncomfortable face as he continued to hold the railing. "Well! Nevermind. Get me the crutches...and we'll continue with your treatment Mr. Phillomon."

Meanwhile...

Cecil Phillomon was cooking some of her husband's favorite stew, and was currently preparing some radishes. Lucy, Jakob and Cecil's daughter, was sitting at the dinner table. Working on some of her drawings of knights and dragons. Stories that Jakob always loved to tell their little daughter. Cecil looked at Lucy for a moment, and gently patted her head while looking at her drawing. "Who's that knight, darling?" she asked, looking at the tiny knight. A swampfolk like them. "Abraham!" claimed Lucy, which made Cecil look at her daughter with concern. "Abraham?" she asked. "Yeah! Because Abraham is in heaven, so he's an angel! And angels are like...knights of heaven!" Cecil looked at Lucy for a few moments, before giving her little girl a kiss on her forehead.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the front door. Cecil quickly moved to open the door. She thought it must be one of Jakob's colleagues. But it wasn't...It was a woman, with vibrant red hair and striking blue eyes. She stood there with a big smile on her face, wearing an inquisitor's uniform.

 

[joshuadim]

3 Months After

The Far North


Ethraeil walked alone in the endless scene of ice and mountains, slowly making his way towards his destination. For months now he had traveled without reprieve nor rest, always on the lookout for anyone searching for him. But at this point, it seemed as if this was unwarranted paranoia as this was further north than most humans could ever bear to travel to. Ethraeil of course didn't feel it, but the winds would have felt as if ice was forming in one's lungs and their blood freeze over within minutes. For most, it seemed as if he was wandering aimlessly into the white oblivion, yet Ethraeil knew exactly where he was going.


As he approached a cliffside, he then saw it.


Built upon a foundation of what used to be a mountain was an ancient fortress, build into the very rock itself. Once long ago, it was the very place where Ethraeil descended on his path. And now, it held an aura of regret and horror. Yet Ethraeil did not waver as he silently made his way there.





Only a few hours later did Ethraeil step inside. The wind was but a distant noise within the walls of this accursed keep, and his footsteps were echoed and magnified by the sheer scale of the fortress itself. As he moved through it, all seemed still as he moved through towards his goal, the main chamber of the fortress itself.


Whispers began to echo as the souls of the dead began to coalesce and take form within the halls of the keep, staring at the lich with judging, dead eyes as he continued on his path. Ethraeil felt a pang of guilt as he knew these were his victims from the past, yet he marched on until he opened a grand door and at last found it.


Encased within ice was the very things that contained the power he needed for his quest, as well as the very thing he hated most. Armor as black as night with runic inscriptions, along with a matching helm-crown and an inscribed sword. Before his imprisonment, he had taken extraordinary measures to ensure that his power, with how terrifying it was, would be stored away for eternity from all mortal eyes. For most, the spell that encased what he came for would have killed them as soon as they approached, but for Ethraeil it simply dissipated and the ice began to crack and fall off. The crown was revealed and Ethraeil took it within his hands, staring at it for a moment.


"In the name of the lost, those who perished under the heel of evil and those who suffered eternally because of the Abyss... I must wear this once more." he spoke to himself, his voice echoing through the empty fortress. "So long as as I have the strength and will to fight... my fate... IS MY OWN."


And so, he placed it over his head. And within moments, a surge of power flowed through his very being, causing him to wrack over with excruciating agony. It was almost so overwhelming, and yet Ethraeil mustered the strength to fight it. And soon, Ethraeil let out a roar as the power coalesced and began to reform him into his true form. His form grew taller, his body reforging with flesh and sinew from seemingly nothing as his armor moved from its encasement over to his body, encasing him. Soon after, it was all over. Ethraeil stood there, panting and aching. And as he opened his eyes, they were a pure blue color throughout with wisps of energy trailing from them and out from his helm.


And just as quickly, he sent out a message to all those who would follow him.

The Lich King has returned.

 

[Infab]

Valeria nodded towards Cecil, politely removing her hat as she looked past Cecil into the home. "Good afternoon, Mrs. Phillomon. My name is Valeria Witlock. Senior Inquisitor of the Vigilant Order. I was wondering if Mr. Phillomon was home?" she said, looking around the inside of Jakob's home before looking back to Cecil. "He assisted me on an inquiry here on Grimtham Isle, and I wished to stop by and thank him before departing back for the mainland."

 

[EdwardDewey98]

Cecil looked at Valeria for a moment. Jakob had told her numerous tales of the Inquiry despite the fact that he had been away for nearly a month. Yet there was something weird about this lady. She decided not to judge, however, and allowed her in. "Please, come in Valeria! I'm afraid Jakob isn't here at the moment, but he should be here in a few minutes or so...Do you want some tea?" She didn't wait for an answer, as she immediately went to the kitchen and put on a tea pot. "Jakob talked a lot about you. I assume you are the reason why there are so many soldiers around here?" She asked jokingly. "If you are here, it means you guys succeeded against that Duke. I am very glad to hear that, if that's the case!"

 

[Infab]

"I can't stay very long, sadly! Still, I believe he would want me to meet the family." said Valeria, as she stepped through the door and looked about. "You have a lovely home, Mrs. Phillomon. And yes, the Duke has been dealt with. Now its just a matter of cleaning up the mess he made." she then said, as she strolled slowly through the house before entering the kitchen. Then, Valeria's gaze drifted to the little girl sitting at the kitchen table. "And you must be Lucy! I've heard much about you from Jakob." said Valeria, as she walked over to get a better look at the young girl. Her gaze shifted to the table, where Lucy's drawings were scattered about. Pictures of knights and dragons. Valeria smiled. "Adorable! We have a young artist blooming here."

 

[Dmaster]

Several Months Later...



When word spread of Camille's assistance in stopping the Duke's plan, the Raven of Giguere House became a title of reverence and fear among Escaria. Already considered a hero by many, creatures of the night both evil and innocent were all but forced into hiding. Those that chose not to and fell under her gaze for their own unique atrocities were swiftly hunted, cornered in the streets or their very own homes and openly challenged by the brazen marquess. The building blocks for her legacy were in place - and she would make certain that her dream would be realized.

Much to her family's chagrin, it seemed that she was finally earning the reputation and wealth befitting a standalone hunter. They had always hoped that this whole thing was some hobby their fiery daughter or sibling threw herself at, a rebellious streak that would fade once she truly hurt herself. Of course their pleas with her to live a proper noble lifestyle were cast aside as always, their messages only getting more frequent with recent events. True to her word she never did investigate La Cygne, and as a result many more vampires flocked to it in fear of being pursued or chased out by the Raven. To her knowledge nothing truly awful was taking place there, otherwise she would have felt the need to intervene. With permits from the country she had a degree of independence that allowed her to conduct her work without interruption or much in the way of boundaries. It was her hope to keep improving, to slay whatever terrible monster emerged despite the odds or her own personal limitations.

Yet even the best and brightest are known to misstep.

It was a chilly night, cobblestone streets still slick and shimmering with moisture from a previous downpour. The square of an Escarian village was deserted, save for two combatants fighting for their lives. To Camille, it was just a standard hunt, some vampire having been rumored to assault those who were too foolish to wander the streets alone. Unfortunately it was not quite so simple. When engaged, the rather pallid man shifted and morphed into something otherworldly: ashen skin, a withered husk-like appearance with elongated limbs and terrifyingly sharp claws, and stone-like craggy spines all over its form. Its eyes glowed red and pierced her very soul as it attacked with such speed and ferocity that it had her struggling to fight it as she normally did.

Both parties had managed to land blow after blow on the other, her blades crossing with his sharp claws as they clanged loudly against one another and echoed throughout the small village's streets. Yet no matter how much the huntress slashed or stabbed the beast, it would not slow its assault. Silver was proving ineffective. Just what was she fighting? How could she kill it? Sidestepping to avoid a visceral slash, she drove her rapier into the beast's chest as it gave a bone-chilling shriek. It simply shrugged of whatever little pain it had suffered, and pushed her onto the ground forcefully. Pinned to the stone, Camille kicked and screamed as the monster was upon her - a gaping maw slowly opening as it poured drool onto her, pulling itself back to tear her head from her shoulders. Wincing, thousands of thoughts and fears pounded and shrieked in her mind, all at once in a single second before -

A deep, metallic thwack struck the monster, its body beginning to glow a bright orange within its chest before it burst violently into flames. The huntress was sprayed with hot ash, and she sputtered and coughed as she grabbed her nearby rapier and scrambled to her feet. She may have been saved but she had no idea if her savior was terribly altruistic. The weapon responsible for ending that monster was nearby still, some kind of flame contained in a cage of metal, hooked up to a chain that was pulling closer to a figure in the distance. Riding spurs jingled as he advanced with a slow, purposeful pace, a single tug on the chain sending the mace on the end toward him before he caught it expertly.

The figure looked upon her, and simply nodded.

 

[EdwardDewey98]

Lucy gave Valeria a big smile, as she complimented her drawing skills. "That's my brother! Abraham!" she explained, excitedly pointing at the knight. Cecil looked down for a moment as her little girl remembered her big brother so fondly. "I am glad you've dealt with that devil. Who knows what he could have done! But its too bad you can't stay here a little longer, Miss Witlock. Jakob would have loved to see you! He speaks so fondly of you and the Inquiry. Oh! Might ask, where's the rest of the Inquiry?"

 

[Infab]

Valeria continued to smile as Lucy pointed out the knight in the drawings. "Ahhh..." she said with a nod, before looking back to Cecil. "Indeed. We were fortunate enough to defeat him before he could cause further damage. And yes, I do apologize. I wish I could stay and greet him in person." she responded, as she stepped back over to where Cecil was standing. "The rest of the inquiry is currently speaking with the representatives of the Church. After all, this was a rather dire matter, and the Church wishes to gather every detail they can to produce a full picture. I'm sure they will be by soon enough, as they loved Jakob's company as much as I did."

Valeria removed her right glove, holding it in her other hand as she reached out to Cecil. "It was a pleasure to meet you as well as your daughter! I see why Jakob spoke so fondly of you both, as well as dear Abraham."

 

[EdwardDewey98]

Lucy continued to draw as Cecil payed close attention to Valeria's words. She was glad to hear more people from the Inquiry would soon visit her husband. Then, Valeria moved back over, and offered her hand. A rather unlady like way to say goodbye, but Cecil offered her hand in return. "A pleasure to meet you, Miss Witlock. My husband will send you lots of letters!"

 

[Infab]

Valeria's hand met Cecil's, and they shook. "I'm sure he will! Also, please remind Jakob that he shouldn't go touching strange creatures without their consent. He'll know what it means." said Valeria, with a slight chuckle. "Its a funny story. You should get him to tell you all about it when he gets back." She released Cecil's hand, and slipped her glove back on. "Farewell for now, Mrs. Phillomon! Goodbye, little Lucy!" she then said, nodding to Cecil before turning and giving Lucy a little wave. Then, Valeria quietly turned and strolled out of the kitchen. Soon enough, Cecil heard the front door shut.

 

[EdwardDewey98]

Cecil felt something strange as she shook hands with Valeria, and a cryptic message she told her didn't help make it any less awkward. Soon, Valeria left and Cecil politely waved at her as she departed. She looked at her hand afterwards, for a moment, noticing nothing. But she felt weird. A sensation she had never felt before in her life. She decided not to pay too much attention to it, and went back to her cooking. Soon after, she could hear the jolly voice of her husband as well as his friend, the husky constable that had welcomed Valeria and the Inquiry at the start of their journey.

She opened the door, and let them both in. "Hello, my love! How was your treatment?" Cecil gave her husband a lovely kiss, while the constable sat down near the dinner table. Jakob then gave her a few kisses on the cheek in return before joining him. "It went fantastic! Soon we'll be able to leave Airedale for Redgorge!" The constable looked sad for a moment. "Do you really have to go, Jakob? You'll be missed dearly here. A month in, and everyone already appreciates you." Jakob let out a chuckle. "Ten years of constable service is more than enough...Besides, been thinking of starting something back in Redgorge." "What's that?" asked the constable, but the conversation was interrupted by Cecil.

"You won't guess who was here a few minutes ago." Jakob looked to his wife, a bit confused. "Hm? Who? Father Bartley?" Cecil shook her head, while placing the dinner plates on the table. "Not at all! Your inquisitor friend! Miss Valeria Witlock!" Jakob looked surprised. "VAL!? Where is she?! And the others! I want to see 'em!" Cecil shook her head. "Sorry, honey. Valeria had to leave. She told me that the others might show up later, though!" Jakob looked down for a moment, sad. "Well...I hope I can see them! Oh, man. I'd love to have everyone here! Have some dinner, talk with Rose, Mariette, Aleister, Theodore...everyone! It'd be lovely...and also get that picture Valeria promised me near Peltragow!"

Cecil then added "She also said...'Please remind Jakob that he shouldn't go touching strange creatures without their consent.' ...what does that mean?" Jakob looked up to his wife, a bit confused. Cecil smiled a bit, crossing her arms. "...Okay, be honest here, Jakob. Did you become a werewolf by bedding some werewolf wench out there?!" The constable let out a hearty laugh, as Jakob looked at Cecil surprised. "Woman, what the hell!?" Lucy then shouted "NO SWEARING!" while pointing at her dad. "I m-mean...what...the frick?" Jakob said nervously. Cecil leaned in and simply petted her husband's head. While she went to get soup, she noticed something on her hand. A tiny dark spot on her palm. She looked at it for a few seconds, as Lucy, Jakob, and the constable began to chant. "We want soup! We want soup! We want soup!" Cecil just shook her head and smiled. It must be nothing.

 

[K0mori]

A Few Days After The Duke's Demise

It had been a rough return trip. Out of money once again and having to take a long route and a ferry due to the destroyed bridge, Francis eventually resorted to selling his beloved shotgun, whereupon he purchased an aging gray horse on which he could rely to carry him the remainder of the distance. The weather was gloomy but manageable, and despite the terrible thing which had happened, the world certainly didn't feel as threatened by demons as he assumed it would immediately after Sazak's disappearance.

Regardless, it wouldn't be long before he would need to report back to the church for his new employment. The Goddess of Judgement herself had called upon him to the new crusade, and he would answer, surely, just as soon as Dorothy could gather her things and accompany him to the mainland.

As he emerged from a dingy wooded dirt road to the paved route near Westerly, he sighed with relief, knowing he had finally returned to the normal route. There, he paused a moment as a carriage rolled down the road, not wanting to cross it's oncoming path, and as he waited, a strange thing happened. A crow which had been perched in a nearby walnut tree fell suddenly and hit the ground with a lifeless thud. Francis was still staring at its body when the carriage rolled by, and just as he took his eyes off it to catch a glimpse of some unknown face in the carriage window, it happened again.

He was certain he wasn't just seeing things. A chill ran down his spine as he gently kicked the horse's side and continued on toward town.

---

Miles Away, In Westerly

Dorothy Adams was filling in at the old schoolhouse, just as she would any time her husband was away. It was always strange, teaching kids the same lessons in the same room that she herself had been educated in. Mr. Adams, as she has known him at first, was tall, dark-haired and relatively well-spoken, and young, shy Dorothy Cooper was utterly infatuated with him within days of his arrival as the new teacher.

She was only 16 when she admitted her feelings for him, and he was completely taken aback. He initially refused her, but two years later, when she tried again as an adult, he made clear to her his opinions on the role of a woman in a relationship. He was stern and extremely traditional: he expected obedience from a wife more exacting than that of a student, and that if they dated, he would expect her to prove herself able to fill the role.

At first, Dorothy was happy with the relationship. Francis, as she now had the right to call him, was not very wealthy, but used his modest income well and impressed her with his self-restraint. She immitated him, enthusiastically at first, before the lustre of being a school teacher's wife began to fade, and she began to realize that Francis would not live up to the fantasy she had once constructed around him. She grew distant from him and felt they would soon separate, but then, things took a dark turn.

Francis returned one day to a dirty house, with chores undone. His anger was palpable, but Dorothy was certain that it was finally the day she would inform the man that their relationship was over. As she opened her mouth to speak, however, Francis struck her hard with an open palm, and the words disappeared completely under a flood of tears. The sorry was accompanied with shame, as Francis berated her, asking what he had done to deserve her ire, why her neglect had forced him to raise his hand against her.

Dorothy soon returned to her housework, fearful that Francis might lash out again, and, at the same time, feeling selfish as her hardworking boyfriend expressed his regret at having harmed her. His anger was quickly replaced by gushing declarations of love. He told her "Dorothy, I can't imagine myself without you, don't ever leave me," and so on.

The relationship dragged on, and Dorothy found herself trapped by the fear, the shame, and the dependency. Francis ruled over her life more and more with each passing day until she found herself cut off from the community, unable to form new friendships or maintain old ones without his approval.

Of course, they eventually married. It was, like all other things in her life now, an absolutely modest ceremony without joy or romance. And while she knew that Francis loved her, she also knew that he did so the way a teamster loves his strongest draft animal. She was a slave to him, and although she felt deeply guilt-ridden for thinking it, she hoped he wouldn't return from his adventure with the church inquisitors.

A storm was brewing outside, and the wind was causing the shutters to hammer against the side of the schoolhouse. As the children studied dutifully, Dorothy circled the room and batoned the storm shutters closed. The room was rather dark after this, and so the children each took out a candle to place on their desks, and lit the wicks using the flame of the small oil lamp kept on the teacher's desk.

A small hand tugged at Dorothy's skirt for attention, and the woman turned to find one of her younger students pointing at her other hand, which was tangled messily in her blond hair with some gooey yellow substance. "What is that?" Dorothy asked as she tried to help untangle the girl's fingers from the tightly-matted locks. "Is this honey?" She continued, but she was answered only with crying from the little girl, the pain of having her hair pulled proving to be too much of a distraction.

Experimentally, Dorothy smelled the substance on her fingers and froze, a sense of overwhelming dread washing over her. It was the same smell she had found on her husband many nights after his long hours in the shed. It was honey, alright, but it was the kind Francis refined from tree resins. Hell's Honey had somehow gotten into the little girl's hair.

"Um, Missus Adams?" A boy nervously spoke. Dorothy turned, but was now accutely aware of the soft plips and plops of liquid dripping inside the old schoolhouse, glistening droplets of her husband's morbid hobby falling from the planks of the roof above their heads I'm greater and greater amounts. There was no time to contemplate how it got there; Dorothy could only think of the lives endangered around her.

"Children-" she had just begun to say when the first splatter of flame erupted from a child's candle, splashed with Hell's Honey from above. A shrill shriek of horror and agony followed as the fire snaked up a child's sleeve, following the resins which had soaked into the cloth and wicked their way upwards.

Within an instant, the panic was impossible to contain as hair, clothing, flesh, and old, creaking and dry wood burst into inextinguishable flames, eating away at anything and everything they touched. Dorothy reached the door of the schoolhouse and tried to push against it, but the gap under the door was drawing in so much air to feed the flames that she couldn't overcome it. Her fingernails clawed at the door as she succumbed to a horrible fate.

---

That Evening

Francis finally arrived after dinner time at the edge of town where his house stood off to the side of the road and immediately sensed something amiss in the trees. He rode around to where he could get a better look and found his shed nothing more than a charred pile of wood, apparently hit by lightening. Nearby, the trees were still smoldering from the apparent path of the fire which originated there and spread, miraculously, away from the Adams' home. At first he was relieved, but he could see smoke over the treeline and feared that the fire might have gone all the way to the town center.

Minutes later, he was rounding the corner toward the main thoroughfare when he saw the scene, the horror overtaking him completely at the sight: a dozen ambulances gathered around a small cluster of hellishly burned buildings, their blackened skeletons glowing red from the inside. In a trance he rode past one blanket-covered, child-sized body after another on his way towards the doors of the old schoolhouse, his mind in a state of perfect silence as the deep knowledge that the children must look like the buildings beneath those blankets tugged at his psyche.

"D-Dorothy! Dorothy!" he began to scream hysterically as he dismounted the horse and ran into the smoking aftermath. A constable on scene stopped him and restrained him.

"Stop it man, get a hold of yerself!" He ordered. "Are you Francis Adams?"

"Yes! Yes! My wife was in there!" He pleaded.

The constable gripped him tighter. "We know. She's been badly burned. Sir, you need to come with me."

"She's alive, then?" Francis begged, overcome with emotion.

The officer nodded repeatedly. "That's what I said, she's badly burned and fighting for life as we speak."

"Well then where is she, you bastard? Why are you keeping me from her?"

"Because I have to arrest you," the constable replied. "The fire started in your shed, Mr. Adams. Just look at the path it cut-" he said holding out his arm over Francis's shoulder. The latter turned and saw how, from down in the town, there was an almost perfectly straight line of burned trees heading directly toward the schoolhouse. The constable continued, explaining what was now abundantly obvious, which was that the fire was being treated as no accident.

And Francis knew that it wasn't, but it also wasn't his own arson. It must have been Sazak's doing, revenge for his meddling in the demons affairs. He let out an incoherent scream of despair, as the truth was far too strange to be believed by any courtroom.

 

[Breadman]

A few months later...

Deep within the catacombs of the archive the flames stirred as air was let in from the doorway. A few pair of boots were heard as they made their way through the corridors. 'Must be that time of the day again.' He thought initially 'Wait, no. It's still the morning hours. Rather early too. Perhaps there's an inspection? Or...' A grin formed on his face as he sniffed the air 'Oh it's nice to see a familiar face. And what a face it is.' The sound of the boots got closer and closer and would eventually stop at his door. He chose to stay in his bed, pretending to be too asleep to notice them. It is too early in the morn for this after all.

"Henderson. Wake up!" The one in the middle spoke up. Rather irritated by the sound of it. "I know you can hear me. So lets save us the trouble this time." Oh he was angry this time.

"Just a second. Let me make myself decent at least." He got up from the bed. If they didn't know any better they would have thought he was standing tall on it due to his massive size. "You really should have warned me that I'd be having guests." The mass of muscle and hair chastised the guards as he got up and stretched. "I am terribly sorry about being a poor host my friend." He continued as he opened the closet and started to dress himself. A tailor made shirt, suit and pants. "But with help like this...well you can see" Finally he slipped on a pair of shoes. Turning around to face his guest, Henderson smiled "I'll skip the shave as I've made you wait long enough." With a swagger he walked to his old friend and got close..as close as the silver and gold bars would let him. "What can I do for you, Theodore?"

"Tying up loose ends before I depart for good." The scholar looked at the brute through his goggles. A new mask had replaced the old one. This new one was outfitted with experimental lenses in order to be tested. Were it any other time, he would go into detail as to what went into making them. Not now. He had other thoughts going through his head. Henderson could smell the anger. "I've handed my last report on what happened during the events months ago. I'm also hanging in my resignation from the order in the afternoon." The short man began, he was really angry "The reason I'm here is that I'm giving my own authorization for you to be let loose before I depart."

"Oh? What could possibly make you of all people do this?" Now he was interested. Henderson leaned closer to hear this explanation.

"Velin is returning and the demon prince Sazzak is loose on the world."

"Ahhhh. That's what it is. You need me to kill the wretched beast before her majestic divinity barges in here with her armored tits and kills me." Henderson laughed at his own joke "Would make sense that the church would beg her to do it. Nothing so far has worked, not for your lack of trying of course. But I interrupted you. Please go on."

"As you so...eloquently put it. Velin would rather destroy you than use you as an asset against Sazzak. I've already recommended you being used and I'm giving my own approval. Even if I'm no longer a member of the order, my word will carry enough weight to get things moving."

"And I'll have you to thank for the much needed exercise and fresh air." Henderson wondered for a few moments. "I've never had demon before. I'm sure you know. Closest I've had was purelood. She was..." He made an exaggerated motion with his fingers next to his lips. Like a chef, that was proud of his latest creation "simply scrumptious. But even with a meal like that in my future, I have to wonder. Why you of all people are this ready, no EAGER, for me to be let loose on the world in the hopes that I will be used against a demon prince. Aren't you worried what will happen once that is done and I'm still out there?" The grin grew wider, exposing a row of teeth.

"I want that bastard to suffer!" Theodore let it out. He didn't want to say out loud what that creature had done. About the package that was delivered to his home. About the gruesome contents inside. About the painful screams of his wife's head screeching from inside the box. Reanimated and unable to die until he burned the damn thing. He didn't want to say any of that, but the anger, indignation and frustration were in the air around him for Henderson to smell and to enjoy along with the faint tingle of sorrow. That was enough for the large brute. His sadistic smile never leaving his face. "As for what happens after, we'll cross over that bridge when we get to it."

"I can't wait." Henderson laughed "It will be an adventure of a lifetime."

 

[Emperor Sagan]

Some weeks later....
Whitecliffe, Atraca

The ashes had long since gone cold, but to Aleister as he lay upon them, they still held the warmth of the family he loved. He had gone numb the moment he first stepped foot on the carriage path, able to see from the base of the small hill, flanked by ancient and well-manicured hedgerows, the looming and blackened shell of what had once been the Saville Estate manor in the moonlight. It was an old and venerable home. When he entered the main foyer, he was amazed that it was still standing, for the pastel wallpapers had been burned away, and the shined wooden floor looked as if it had been dragged from a campfire. The overturned furniture - and those items thrown outside - indicated to him that this was not a fire of pure accident. There had been people here, and they ransacked the place. He came across discarded weapons, also charred, but dropped in whatever struggle may have occurred here. Paintings which were one of a kind and older than even the house were little more than crisps on the floor now, along with those painted by himself and the family. He searched for a letter left out afterwards to indicate where his sisters and night-mother had gone, for surely they had left word of where they had escaped to....

When he ascended the main stairs to the second floor, he saw something out the window. He stumbled towards the balcony which overlooked the Saville garden, the most beautiful place of cultivation he had ever seen, tended to by the delicate hands of his sisters who lived a secluded but peaceful life. In the center of the garden was the remains of a pyre. Collapsed stakes for which to lash a person to stood crooked and collapsed, with long burned firewood surrounding this macabre monument. He could see what little remained of five fitful, nearly non-existent shapes in the pillar of ash.

He had lost all strength and he tumbled from the balcony, falling nearly headfirst into the cobbled path below and earning all the damage it rewarded to him. His fingers scraped across the stone as he scrambled through the silent, watching roses, coated in ash as if there had been a snowfall, until he found himself on his hands and knees in the remains of the pyre, among his family. For the first night, and day, he had lain there. His traveling suit barely protected his flesh as he lay unmoving, with his jacket hoisted up over his head. Still, his skin burned and blistered in the places protected by the thinnest fabric, and he endured it in silence for he knew it was not even a minuscule fraction of what had once burned here. Each hour he considered simply pulling the jacket away from his body so that he could lay eyes upon the sun. His hands clutched at jagged, burned stakes from the pyre and he wondered how it would feel to drag one towards his chest.

When the first night fell after his arrival, a compulsion encouraged him to finally crawl away. His throat felt raw from the crying, his eyes dry as if they were forever empty of tears. His grief would never cease so long as he lived, yet there was one light within him that burned far brighter than any passion he had once had in his existence. Hate. What had happened here was not the actions of a single soul. He did not know if this was the doing of Sazak, or if Velin's return had spurred action into the minds of the wicked. Perhaps it had simply been both. There was more than enough abhorrent contempt within him to burn a million pyres, each one brighter than the morning sun and baring bodies of the so-called faithful.

There was an old salt cellar nearby, used to house all manner of goods needed to be kept dry, and occasionally used as a grotto when the mood had struck him when he was young. He pulled himself along the grass and flowers towards it, and tumbled down the ladder once he had forced open the entrance. A small writing desk had been tucked into the back of the cellar with old, dusty stationary. He hadn't touched the desk in years, and to his knowledge, neither had anyone else. Yet sat in the middle of it was a small vase, nearly the size of a shot glass with a single white rose in it. He eyed it in silence, almost afraid to touch it until he had to judge for himself if it was real or not. His fingers felt the glass, and the prickly stem, and the velvet buds. It was real.

The last white rose of the estate had withered nearly three decades ago. Elisabeth had given the last one to him and left it here for him in the cellar so that he could have inspiration for his poems, and that one, as most things did, eventually withered and died many, many years ago. Uncertain of his own mental state at this point, he found ink, and a quill, and put the device to the paper he had at hand, pausing at moments to observe the rose. There were many things he wanted - needed - to put down. Yet there were letters which needed to be penned first. Letters which would set forth a chain of events to hopefully bring an end to this madness once and for all.

 

[Infab]

A day after the events at Castle Ellisgate...in Purgatory...

A faint mist hung in the air, stretching on for miles in every direction just like the bare trees around them. There wasn't a sound to be heard. No birds chirping, or animals moving about. Not even the call of a distant wolf. There was no river or stream. Only an empty forest. Well, it wasn't quite empty. Purgatory always bore souls here and there, gathered up in groups as they repented for the sins they had committed in life or to await judgement. And now, it was time to judge.

A bolt of lightning struck the ground at the center of the forest, creating a thunderous boom which echoed for miles in every direction. Standing at the center of the crater created in the dirt was Velin, the Goddess of Judgement. Electricity crackled and jumped from her armor, scorching the ground as she stepped. She looked about, before moving towards the only visible boulders in the area. Though they weren't quite boulders. It was a set of three stone thrones, with the largest in the middle. Her throne. She stepped over to it, planting the tip of her bastard sword in the dirt next to it, before brushing dust off the seat. Then, she sat down. The electricity darting off her armor calmed, almost to a point of non-existence.

Then, two figures appeared before her. Angels, clad in armor similar to that of Velin herself. Theirs, however, were made of gold. "Greetings, my lady." they said, as they both bowed deeply before her. "Shall we begin?" she replied simply, without looking to either of the two. They straightened back up, before moving over to their own chairs and seating themselves.

 

[K0mori]

For a long while after her arrival, Mariette was lying on her back in a secluded, shady bowl in the forest. She had been frightened upon her arrival here, having first assumed it was the Abyss, but the total peace of her surroundings and lack of demons quickly informed her of the truth. Soon, she realized that she wasn't alone, but was among many lost souls in this eerie place. Purgatory was where souls could rest in reflection of a sinful, but not altogether unforgivable life. It was not where she had expected to go after her near-deal with Sazak, but she was far from complaining. After some time had passed, some unknown length, her soul would be purified, and she would pass on to Heaven. At least, that was how she had been told it worked. Only recently did she even believe wholeheartedly in the afterlife, after meeting Undite, and she wasn't quite sure of her scripture. A pang of regret struck her as she remembered that goddess's pleas which might have spared her such an ignoble end, but as she lay on her back, she knew that this would pass in time if she simply continued to meditate and reflect.

She then remembered Velin, the Goddess of Judgement, and wondered how she factored into this process. Had she already been judged? Was Purgatory where she had been sent, or had she been carried here by some natural current, and her true fate was yet to be decided? Again, hours and then days passed without an answer, and so she simply waited, choosing not to become overwhelmed by uncertainty. She focused instead on her choices in life, wondering at length what the true consequences of each decision were. After weeks of this silent reflection, having not been bothered by tiredness or thirst, there was a loud boom which brought her back to alertness. Somewhere nearby in misty forest, something had arrived and made quite an entrance, and Mariette couldn't help but investigate. She walked out of the bowl in the forest and after a few minutes of aimless wandering, came upon a clearing where a glorious-looking armored figure sat on a stone throne, flanked on either side by angels.

There was no point in being shy, and so Mariette approached them plainly. The figure in the middle could only be the goddess herself, she imagined, and so, upon arriving, she knelt before her. "Bonjour, Madame Velin," she greeted humbly.

 

[Infab]

One of the angels spoke, instead of Velin. "Please, stand." they said politely, while the other stood and unfurled what appeared to be a rolled up piece of parchment. They started to speak, but Velin waved her hand. The angel then sat back down. "Mariette Desrosiers." said Velin, as she gazed upon the woman before her. "You are here because you committed suicide by sunlight. Commendable, but several decades too late. The taint of vampirism is still etched on your soul. It would have been far better for you to have died of the plague that had killed the others in your former husband's family." She sat forward, continuing to look upon the woman. "Over your lifetime, you have practiced the dark arts of witchcraft, which you used to twist the mind of your husband, driving him into madness. Your actions also resulted in the deaths of others. Then, you proceeded to try and find a way to create a...kingdom for the creatures of the night." Velin sounded as though she was wholly disgusted by the idea.

 

[joshuadim]

3 Months After
Peltragow



A peasant child sat in an alleyway within the port city of Peltragow eating a stolen load of broad from the marketplace. He had to resort to such petty crimes in order to stay alive, since he was an orphan and shit out of luck in life. He often had to run from the city guard, and it was especially harder nowadays since there was an increased military presence on Grimtham Isle after what had transpired. Nonetheless, the boy savored his prize in secrecy within the filthy alley... that is until he saw the air nearby begin to shammer and spark. This eventually turned into a small maelstrom of seemingly impossible power, resulting in a what appeared to be a hole through the very fabric of existence itself. And from there stepped out the man in raven black.

As soon as he exited, the portal behind him quickly closed as if it had never existed in the first place. He noticed the boy staring at him and tossed him a few gold pieces and put a finger to his mouth with a soft smile. The boy only nodded, understanding that he should keep quiet as the mysterious person walked off into the main streets. He looked only semi-conspicuous, as his regalia was more... refine when compared to most of what people wore here. He got a few odd stares here and there, a few ladies complimenting his attire, but he paid them no mind as he moved towards his destination: the Obsidian Lighthouse Inn and Tavern.

He quickly entered and locked the door behind him, as he didn't want any intrusive ears entering the establishment for he had an important matter to speak of with the owner. He gave a simple gesture to the kobale at the counter before sitting at a table near a dark corner and awaited for Tariun.

It wasn't long before she arrived, strolling over and sitting down in the chair opposite of the man in raven black. "It has been a while, Venextos. I trust things are going well with the Raven Court?" she said, setting her fancy cane on the table before her. Another woman soon appeared in the corner of his eye, sitting across from them at another table. This woman was dressed in a formal black suit, which usually men wore, and had short blonde hair which was cut into a bob. If she were out on the streets of Peltragow, she would certainly look quite out of place. But here, she fit in rather well. Tariun glanced to the woman, then back to Venextos. "Don't mind her. That's my lieutenant, Xager. She's...cautious, to say the least."

"It is always a pleasure to speak with you, Tariun." Venextos replied with a courteous tone and a respectful head nod. "Xager is right to be cautious for these are... strange times." He then pulled out a pipe to smoke, but did not light it immediately.

"Do you mind if I light myself a smoke?" he asked. "I have grown exceptionally fond of dwarvish pipe-weed over the past few centuries."

"Go right ahead." she said, with a smile. After a few moments of silence, Tariun spoke once again. "I assume you're here regarding the recent events? Sazak now has the Ring of Adona, as well as the Sword of Velin. And Lady Velin herself has awakened from her slumber to return to the mortal realm." Sazak claiming both of the divine objects was a dire situation for the people of the mortal realm, but a blessing for those that wished to be released from their cage down in the Abyss. "Perhaps he'll soon break the binding...and I don't think Velin will be able to stop the chaos set in motion after that."

"Dire tidings indeed... I had considered it a possibility that the binding can be broken. Implausible at first, but with both the ring and the sword at Sazak's disposal, it has now become alarmingly probable." he said before taking a puff from his pipe. As soon as he opened his mouth to speak however, he *felt it*. He turned his head northwards, for in the far, FAR north there was an extremely powerful disturbance to which Venextos could only give a smile at. Ethraeil had done the deed.

Right on schedule. he thought to himself before turning back to Tariun.

"Of course, I have planned for this eventuality as you probably can guess madame."

"Of course. You and the rest of the Court always seem to be two steps ahead. It is as if you have Adona whispering events in your ear." she said, with a smirk. "...I have also been planning. Though my plans are for a different sort of event. One that I hope our Lady Velin would be open to...but it will take some time for her to warm up to the idea. Plus, certain pieces need to fall into place before I bring it up to her." She smiled fully. "Hopefully our plans will work flawlessly with one another."

"Lady Velin is not known for always having the... best... judgment, hm? But I do love a good scheme! Tell me, what does it entail madame?" he asked as he took another puff from his pipe. "What would bring about such discomfort to the Goddess of Justice?"

Tariun chuckled. "It involves a change of power in the Abyss. Removing the crown from Taranoch's head." She placed her hand on the cane before her, letting it roll beneath her palm across the table a few times. "Now, Lady Velin, of course, wouldn't care much for plays for power in the Abyss. She sees us demons as all evil in some form or another. Even us ascended demons." she continued, "But...if there were something to gain for her, then perhaps she would be more inclined to work with me. Something beneficial to both parties could be worked out and agreed upon." She then sat back in her chair once more, letting her hands rest in her lap. "I'm sure something will come along that Velin will want...and I'll be right there to offer my assistance."

"Ah... the King of the Abyss himself. A feat many have tried before and all have failed. A daunting task, to be sure... and without the right resources it could not end well." he remarked before leaning in closer. "But I can help with that problem." He then smiled and gave off a small chuckle. "What if, one were to travel there with the sole purpose of destabilizing the current order? A rumbling of the status quo, or say a matchstick put into a haystack so to speak."

"Well now..." said Tariun, tilting her head and smiling at Venextos, "...That would be most helpful. After all, its better to wage war against a weakened or preoccupied enemy than it is to wage war against one at full strength and attention." She glanced over to Xager, whom hadn't moved from her spot. Still staring a hole through Venextos. "...Do you have someone in mind? I know that you members of the Court tend not to dirty your hands with things unless absolutely necessary."

The sorcerer paid no mind to Xager, as the lieutenant was only doing their job.

"For a considerable amount of time now I have been building connections that we will most certainly need. Hayley has helped me with affairs on the Abyss, while I have been busy here. After all, one needs the right kind of warrior to fight a war. For starters, I believe you are familiar with Ethraeil, oui?"

"Indeed, I am. I met him during the Witlock Inquiry." responded Tariun. "He has quite the chip on his shoulder regarding Sazak. A perfect choice for a warrior." She nodded slightly. "Hayley Payne has been a wonderful guest in the Abyss. She seems to enjoy her studies there."

"So I've heard. The Abyss is a fascinating subject to study, as are its inhabitants. She also helped me find yet another ally, Azathor." he said. "But it's too early to reveal him on the board for now, for he would be vulnerable in his disposition."

"Ahhh...the rebellious son of Sazak. Well...the most rebellious one, compared to the others. Yes, he'd be quite vulnerable at this stage of things." said Tariun, with a nod. "Best to leave him be for now. Otherwise, he could share a similar fate to that of his sister."

"Indeed. It's best for me to focus on what can be used now." he said before noticing a fly buzzing through the air and leave through a window only for the exact same fly to repeat its own action as if it had never occurred before. This caused the sorcerer to frown and his tone to change. "Though I'm afraid the time we have might be growing shorter. The anomalies are getting more frequent and more powerful with each passing day."

"Sazak continues to use the ring to try and locate the other artifacts. It is less time growing shorter, and more...time malfunctioning." stated Tariun, "He continues to search under Taranoch's direct order, of course." The staff of Undite, the charm of Gyasis, and the gauntlets of Thiasis. All were still hidden somewhere on the continent. "He will eventually locate them all...its just a matter of time."

"So long as we are able to put a wrench in that plan, we might be able to delay it long enough. But then again, that depends on those that meet the call when the time comes." he replied before sighing. "With so much at stake... perhaps its time for me and my colleagues to step out of the shadows to prevent such an outcome."

"Now that they possess two of the artifacts, I fear a new Age of Darkness is on the horizon...regardless of what we do." replied Tariun.

Venextos stayed quiet and took a puff from his pipe, unsure of how to respond.

Tariun was quiet for a few moments afterwards, before sighing. "I'm sorry...that was awful pessimistic of me." she said, before glancing over to Xager. "I'm sure things will turn out for the better. After all, its always darkest before the dawn." She then looked back to Venextos and smiled.

 

[K0mori]

Mariette didn't flinch at the accusations, which of course we're all true. "I don't deny any of it," she replied. "I tormented my husband for forcing this affliction on me, when I could have left his reckoning to you. I could have died anonymously when his family sought to destroy me, but I chose instead to turn the tables, removing the ones who wished me dead."

Mariette could sense that no amount of explanation would render Velin favorable to the cause of a vampiric homeland, but she did not shy away from that part of her life. "I was like so many others with my affliction, we wanted sanctuary- not just from persecution, but from ourselves. As you must be aware, my friends and I detested the life of a parasite and sought to reinvent it. For seventy years, my lips didn't touch the skin of any human or animal. I offered payment for the blood which sustained me and others offered it willingly.

"We built legitimate businesses and fortunes. I myself was a vintner. At my estate, vampires work side by side with humans and we spread merriment to the world together. My fellow nobles and I detained other vampires who couldn't follow our example and turned them over to the authorities.

"It was in this sanctuary that I was able to delude myself into thinking I could be satisfied by such simple things. It was the huntress Camille Giguere who opened my eyes to my true nature. I had sought her out in hopes of discouraging violence against my people, but the poison that immortal curse has on the mind is potent, as you are doubtlessly aware, and I soon found that I had no honor when power or prestige was offered instead. While I traveled with Giguere and the inquisitors, I had an insatiable lust for advancement, and sought excuses for it at every opportunity.

"I was easy prey for Sazak, who offered me the kingdom I desired, and more, in exchange for conspiracy against the Inquisitors I had originally sought to help. Worse yet, I accepted his deal, only to realize shortly thereafter how monstrous I was becoming. Undite personally came to warn me of this road I travelled, and there I was seeing Duke Ashwood in myself and it horrified me like nothing else.

"They were my friends," she said, and for the first time she seemed genuinely ashamed, and moved to tears. "...and I would have killed them for power? I couldn't bear such a thought. And while I could have turned away from that path, and told myself I could be better, in my heart I knew that I couldn't delude myself any further.

"I had originally expected to plummit into the Abyss, not for my actions, but for that unforgivable betrayal in my heart. But if I may remain here and repent, then I assume it will be a long and... worthwhile reflection."