Fantasy Hunter's Moon: The Sin & Sentence [IC] [CLOSED]

[Infab]

October 9th, 1880
The Grand Cathedral of the Divine
Eternis, Atraca

"It has been two weeks, my lady. It is time to proceed." stated the well dressed man, clad in a silky black suit. He brushed a few strands of his almost white hair out of his face, his silver eyes locked onto the tall armored goddess whom was currently peering down at a sheet of paper in her hands. Faint traces of electricity surged across her metal armor, briefly crackling before darting down her legs into the tile floor of the room. She had been using this large room for some time now as her primary headquarters, after taking it from the former Grand Inquisitor. The embellishments and paintings that he had hung up in the office had been removed, replaced with art from the goddess's native country of Volusia. The mahogany desk was replaced with a simpler one, made of stone that matched the tile. She had made it her own, expecting to be here for a long time. As long as it took to fix things.

She looked back to the man, before tossing the paper onto the desk. "Good. Send everyone out of the grand hall, and gather them there. Have their equipment retrieved from the armory as well." stated the goddess, as she soon turned around to completely face the man. "Yes, lady Velin." responded Cassiel. And a moment later, the man in black disappeared. As if he simply vanished in the blink of an eye.

He would reappear below, inside the grand cathedral itself near the altar where a priest was currently in the middle of a sermon. "Father, I believe we need to cut today's gathering short. Our lady has work that needs doing." said Cassiel politely. The priest nodded, before turning to his flock in the hall. The sermon was concluded quite quickly, and he promptly instructed the men, women, and children inside to depart quickly and quietly. Once the grand, extravagant hall was empty a few minutes later, Cassiel motioned for the priest to return to him. "Gather a few priests and Order members. The equipment in the armory that we have gathered needs to be brought here. Task a few of the Order to also descend down to the dungeon, and bring our guests up. Seek out the others as well, and bring them here"

The priest nodded again, before departing to do as instructed. It was time for them to begin their mission. As he patiently waited in the grand hall, standing now just in front of the alter, the various members of the Beaumont Mission were gathered in the hall. A group of remarkable, yet terrible, individuals. Most of them, anyway. The members of the Vigilant Order soon arrived with the group's gear from the armory. A variety of weapons and armor for them to use during their incursion into the depths of the Abyss. As things and people were gathered, Velin descended from her tower and stood next to Cassiel at the altar.

"Do you think this will work, my lady? Sazak is not one to be trifled with...and neither is the dark lord Taranoch." whispered Cassiel, glancing up to his goddess. Velin grunted. "Not really, no." responded Velin, without looking. "But nothing of value will be lost. Except for three of my children." Cassiel eyed the goddess for a moment, before looking back to the group. She had no faith in them. Not even in Vincent or Hudson.

---
​

Days prior...
Red Gorge, Atraca
Phillomon Detective & Hunting Agency

"'ey, boss! There's another letter here for you!" said one of the detectives, strolling through the building towards the office of Jakob Phillomon. "It says its from a...Weston guy." It had been a few weeks since Jakob had received any letters from Weston, likely due to the nature of his duties. As both a priest and a high inquisitor in the Vigilant Order, Weston had a lot on his plate. But now it seemed that he finally had the chance to send him something. Hopefully more information on the situation with Sazak.

As Jakob received the letter from his employee, he quickly opened it and began to read over it.

Jakob,

They found her! They found Valeria! It turns out that Sazak has been keeping her imprisoned in the Abyss. Velin is launching a mission into the Abyss soon to retrieve her, as well as attempt to retrieve the two artifacts that Sazak has taken. They will be going into the Abyss through a hidden door in northern Daristein. Enclosed within this letter is a snippet of a Daristeinian map. Marked on it is the location of the door. Do not share this location with anyone else. If word got out of a door to the Abyss existing, there will likely be people attempting to venture through it or get people OUT of the Abyss. Hurry and get there if you want to help save my daughter.

High Inquisitor Nathaniel Weston
​

---​

Back in Eternis...

As soon as the group had gathered their things and were ready to go, Velin stepped forward. "Now, as you know, you will be venturing into the Abyss. I shouldn't have to warn you about what you will encounter down there. I am not sending you directly into the Abyss, as that will drop each of you into random locations. That isn't helpful. Instead, you will be venturing through a door into the Abyss, located in Northern Daristein." said the goddess. She looked back to Cassiel, whom stepped over next to her. A moment later, he snapped her fingers, and a portal appeared in front of the altar. On the other side, visible through the portal, was a lush green forest. "Proceed through." she said simply, motioning for the group to go.

The first one through was Vincent Beaumont, leader of the mission. He quietly walked over and through the portal, emerging into a dense forest. Up ahead as a small clearing, as well as the face of a mountain side. It was oddly quiet here. There were still birds chirping and animals moving about around them, but it was quieter than one would expect from a forest like this. As the rest of the group came through the portal, they moved ahead. Velin and Cassiel soon emerged, following behind the group.

They proceeded into the clearing and soon found themselves face to face with a large stone door, embedded into the side of the mountain.

​

 

[Infab]

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CHAPTER ONE: THE HOLLOWLANDS

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​

As the group ventured across the straight, taking turns rowing with the large oars, they learned what they needed to from one another. Which was really just each other's names. Perhaps that would be all they learned from one another in this hellish place. Perhaps not. Time would tell. Soon enough, they hit the shore line of the mainland with a thunk, as they couldn't see all that far due to the mist. Everyone climbed off the front of the boat onto the shore, instead of hopping over the side into the sludge water.

The sand was cold and white, and to those without shoes, moist. There was more grass here, which actually stretched on for quite a distance, and there were a few trees nearby. All were alive, somehow. As the others looked about, Vincent pulled out the map once more that Tariun had given them. As he unrolled it, he found that their position had been marked, with a tiny arrow that turned and pointed in the direction he was facing. Likely by Tariun's magic. Sheol was a ways away from them, so it was likely best if they got moving. He turned to face Sheol using the arrow, then rolled the map up and looked to the others. "Lets get going, shall we?"

 

[Emperor Sagan]

Nocturne Islands
Capital St. Gwyndolin, formerly Nocturne Bay
Fall, 1880

He had gotten used to the noises. No matter the time of day - which this far north, under cover of a near perpetual foggy, overcast sky that yielded precious little sunlight - there was always construction. It was the unenviable yet necessary task of raising a nation from cold loamy fields, mossy stone, and harsh rocky outcroppings. Three years ago the city had been little more than thin clapboard houses nestled together for warmth and protection against a somber bay of black water. There hadn't even been a dock at first, and the first few ships had to row parties of exhausted, terrified refugees to shore to camp out under canvas tents. A feat that would have been impossible in most places in the world given the simple presence of sunlight. These islands here were truly a place of salvation in more ways than one. From his balcony at the Lunar Cathedral, he could see most of the bay-side portion of the growing city, along with the nearly finished Saville Square Clocktower. Gone away was the clapboard, replaced now by muted grey stone and brick buildings of three or four floors in height. Large canvas sheets - or even boards - closed over the tops of many streets so that the nighttime denizens faced a minimum of sunlight. While the days were dim and the worst lethal aspect of the sun a rare occurrence here, most days could still yield a fair burn to any vampires caught out beneath the protective blanket of misty clouds. Additional artificial cover was an absolute necessity, and in some places streets were entirely inside of buildings.

Nearly thirty thousand people called this place their home now. Predominantly vampires, werewolves, and other supernaturals fleeing Velin's pogroms on the continent. Around a third were human. Sympathizers and allies, mostly, though a few extraordinarily brave pioneers, always seeking another frontier to push. Even some dark skinned elves had appeared in number, ancient natives to this place returning by magical means. A smaller, unsavory portion had also attached themselves to Nocturne - pirates, smugglers, and outlaws - but these elements were under strict watch. The Night Choir Militia, and the more official policing actions by the nuns of the Order of the Rapturous Heart, maintained exceptional law and order. An eternal vigil was required to ensure agents of the enemy church and of Velin were not among them, and for the bad apples among their own kind to be put under heel. While everyday was a hopeful one, there was still the fear that Velin's forces would find them and launch their invasion. Their first line of defense were privateers and pirates under the guise of an official navy, but they were small in number, leaving the real prospect of defense to the people themselves. Alongside tools and goods, rifles and ammunition were pressed daily. Raising a nation was a task that required enormous capital, willpower, and effort, with thousands working together in tandem. With the need for an army and navy, the expenditure was incredible. Food, for example, had been a problem since day one - only half the population being vampires saved them all from starving, given their simple diet. Cattle, sheep predominantly, were bled to feed the vampires, along with humans who offered blood in exchange for other benefits. A custom taken from the proudest vampire settlement in Escaria, or whatever was left of it these days.

A shape moved about in the chamber behind him. It was his home now, and a fine one at that. The Lunar Cathedral had been under perpetual construction since Nocturne was founded. It dominated the center of the city and was something between a place of worship, seat of government, and fortress. Even his most optimistic foreman and architects were uncertain when it would be finished. Not that anyone complained. It provided work to many and was easily the pride of the entire fledgling nation.

He finally looked back into the gloom of the large chamber. Bookshelves dominated much of the walls, and a stout, ornately carved desk that weighed far too much took up a spot in the distant corner. His private office space, though he had an official one elsewhere in the building. Regardless, both were stacked with an immense amount of stationary - letters, missives, and documents. Most days he wrote more letters than he felt like he could count. Even with his delegates and an entire host of allies, he was recognized by all as the ruler of Nocturne.

"You're up early," Abbess Charlene Duvaulle said, wrapping her arms around his waist and hugging him from behind. "Feeling anxious again?"

Archbishop Aleister Germain smiled softly. "I often do, these days. There is so much work to be done. I dare not say things have been going well enough... but I suppose they have been. Here, at least. Over the sea on the continent...." His voice trailed off and Abbess Duvaulle hugged him a little tighter. They had grown closer over these past three years. She had been with him since the very beginning of it all, being one of the first to receive his letters after the incident at the Saville Estate when he returned from Grimtham. "We're doing all we can," she said soothingly, head resting on his shoulder. "You have done so much... given so much. You're the savior of these people, Aleister. Without you we'd all be scattered and lost, or dead. You brought us all together to survive this. Everyone here supports you. Don't doubt yourself, dear, and especially don't ever think you are alone...."

A third shape moved in the chamber behind them, another set of red eyes appearing from the wide canopied bed, nearly swallowed up in a bundle of silk blankets and pillows, curtained in by the velvet draperies hanging from the canopy. Like the abbess, they were dressed only in the growing moonlight as night rose up. "Hard to feel alone in a bed as full as this," they laughed. Aleister laughed too, but Duvaulle gave a tiny glare back. "Oh, shush Carlio. You'll spoil the moment." Carlio Silvatori remained on the bed, watching them with a little grin. It had been two years ago since Aleister turned the energetic, fiery young man from Stiusil into a vampire. Carlio had adored Aleister as a human, and his reverence had only grown since then.

"You two are always so kind to keep my spirits up," Aleister said. "I'm sorry to have roused you both a little earlier than usual with my pensive mood."

"Oh, don't be like that," Duvaulle grinned. "Today's supposed to be a day of celebration, anyways."

"That's today?" Carlio said, barely moving from his spot on the bed. "I had nearly forgotten! I wonder if we'll see the blast from here," he laughed.

Aleister allowed himself another thin smile. His often delighted smirk was a thing of the past, as the corners of his lips no longer curved naturally up in mirth, but downwards into a resting frown. The shade beneath his eyes had gotten a little better, but remained all the same. His hair had grown lighter and he allowed it to grow out past his shoulders. That day three years ago had stolen far more than his family from him.

"We may not see it with our eyes, but we'll feel it in our hearts. And more importantly... they'll feel it with every fiber of their being."

--

Port of Devontown, Atraca

It was a little before midnight when the Sea Herald, an unassuming cargo freighter, sighted the coastline and sparkling lights of Devontown. The port was a bustling seaside town built around a natural bay in northwest Atraca, nearly at the very tip of the furthermost corner of the country. Right on several major shipping lanes, access to the great open ocean for fishing, bountiful shallows for clamming and crabbing, a full rail network, and a massive protected bay, it was no wonder that Devontown had prospered since its inception. At any given moment there were dozens of large vessels moored in the peaceful waters, either for rest or for mercantile practice, and even the Atracan Royal Navy maintained a station here, in which military ships were often docked at their own private section of the bay. An old brick fort guarded the outer approach, but these days it was mostly empty. The armory had been moved down towards the bay at a guarded post by the naval lodging.

For the past ten minutes using a narrow gauge lantern, the freighter signaled a spot up the coast near a cliffside rise with the simple message Queen. Shortly, a return light flashed across the ocean - Hearts. The handshake had been completed. On a lonely dirt turnpike with cottages dotting the rolling hills, two men hurried away from the cliff with a surveyor's lantern and boarded a large coach carriage. They snapped the reigns and urged the four warhorse stallions forwards towards the city. Back out to sea, the Sea Herald eased its way into the harbor. As expected, the nightwatch of the Port Authority signaled them to take any open berth and await inspection in the morning. The freighter drifted towards the nearest open spot by the military pier, in which several screwships were stationed. Their crews were more than likely on board and tucked in for the night. Just off the dock where the freighter came to a stop at was a large cannery and several other industrial mills. Further up the bay there were shops and the city proper, all crowded around the bay like a horseshoe. The slope of the hills sent each street that stretched away from the coast higher and higher in elevation. This was the lowest point in the area where the land met the coast with beaches, not cliffs, which dominated either side of the city in both directions.

The Sea Herald waited for forty-six minutes before a carriage came bounding to a stop outside the pier. The driver and his passenger were both dressed in black overcoats and stovepipe tophats, the latter armed with a coachgun resting beside him. From the freighter, several sailors in grey smocks hurried down the gangway.

"Captain, that's all of us," the bosun said in a low voice. They had been on a skeleton crew and it wasn't easy to lose someone. Only one person remained behind - a vampire named Louis Bernot. He was deep within the cargo hold of the vessel nurturing the slow burn fire they had set to ensure that it would properly take, and once it did, that it wouldn't go out. The entirety of the hold was stocked with crates of ammonium nitrate and picric acid, gathered from over a year of piracy on the high seas. Worthwhile cargo to be sold, but they weren't here for the marketplace. "How long do you think we have? They said we'd have an hour to get away...."

"I don't know and I'm not waiting around to find out. Load up! We're getting the hell out of here. We can appreciate our handiwork from a safe distance." The half dozen men stuffed themselves into the carriage, with two clambering onto the backboard and holding on tightly. The gangway had been kicked into the water so that anyone passing by would think the crew were sleeping on board, and that if they, for whatever reason tried to get their attention, it could be assumed their nightwatchman had fallen asleep. "Let's move it!"

Back through the city they went, the carriage galloping away through darkened industrial streets. It was a clear night and they'd be able to watch the bay from the cliffs. Every minute nervously ate away at the captain's mind, his eyes locked to his pocketwatch. Really, there was no idea how long this could taken. Fifteen minutes? Two hours? These sort of things had always happened as accidents before. Every once in a while a fertilizer mill would go up with a big boom. Just a few years ago a train loaded with blasting jelly had baked in the sunlight for too long. When it finally went off, it left a crater large enough to fit an entire estate mansion in.

Finally, they reached the bleak cliffs overlooking the city, and the men gathered around to stretch their legs. A few lanterns were lit and three sauntered off to the nearby turnpike inn to rouse the keeper there for some food.

"Its been fifty-two minutes... it should be soon now that the thing will go off," the captain explained. "Are we far enough away?" Someone asked. The captain shrugged. "I sure hope so. We didn't pack that bitch with munitions. It can't be any worse than a munitions store going up." There was silence for a moment before someone pointed out, "Those can get pretty bad, though."

Thirteen minutes later, the Sea Herald, docked alongside other freighters and several warships in the quiet nighttime bay, detonated with the power of nearly 2.5 kilotons of TNT. Night turned into day for a second as the entirety of the vessel and everything around it was utterly obliterated, vaporized as if they had never existed in the first place.

The crew of the freighter, a safe enough distance away from the city on the cliffs, were knocked squarely off their feet and into the dirt. None could hear anything except the ringing left in their ears from the earth shattering roar. Atop the carriage, the pressure wave was intense enough to have knocked the driver off the frontboard, and he fell cursing into the mud while the horses went wild and launched themselves forwards, pulling a now empty carriage along into the dark. Something heavy landed in the dirt near them as debris fell from the sky, prompting all to scatter up the road and past the turnpike in a frenzy.

It seemed they had misjudged the power of their makeshift bomb. Not that it mattered. Ears ringing or not, with or without a carriage, they'd run all the way to the village of Chillwell if they had to. A schooner was waiting for them there and they'd be gone by morning.

 

[Infab]

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CHAPTER TWO
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The truck slid to a stop, skidding across rocks and dirt at the center of the village. Out of it climbed Hudson, Riberta, Jakob, and Venextos, looking about as they emerged from inside the vehicle. This was the place that they were supposed to find the sorceress that Azathor spoke of. The friend of Venextos.

The village was in ruins, apparently haven't been lived in for several centuries. There was a massive dead tree at the center, which stood several stories tall. The lone tree in a barren landscape stretching for miles around them. Riberta sniffed the air, before glancing to Jakob. "Smell that? Blood. And a lot of it." she said, her red eyes darting about. Jakob could smell it too, with his lycan senses. They'd have to do some searching. Carefully and quietly, the four dispersed. Looking about the camp in search anyone or anything that might be there.

The closest shacks to them were crumbling inward, the bits of stone and wood that had formerly formed their structure now simple rubble inside. There was a well which Hudson peered into. He didn't see anything at the bottom, and dropping a rock into it only earned him a thud. No water. This place really was dead. Soon, though, Riberta called out. "FOUND SOME BODIES." she said, gazing down at the corpse of a stone fleshed demon. He had been killed recently, along with a cluster of others that lay scattered around the inside of a dilapidated shop.

"Your sorceress friend seems talented." said Riberta, glancing back to Venextos as they arrived to find the corpses themselves. As she finished however, her head snapped up and she looked about. "Got an aura nearby....several. They were in hiding. Get ready, because they're coming."

And, just as Riberta said, a group of demons rounded the shack at the end of the short street. Heading towards them. They seemed to be armored, carrying large iron weapons. Blades, axes, maces, warhammers. There was even one with what appeared to be a mallet. Probably snatched it up somewhere. They were all wrath demons, it seemed, from the angry expressions and blood caked over most of their bodies, but they were organized. They had a leader, somewhere. The question was where?

 

[Breadman]

Somewhere in the lands of Wrath

The train slowed down as it neared the next station. Colette could feel the machine begin it's halt as the car slowly stopped moving. As soon as the door opened she climbed down to the platform, suitcase in hand and a chest full of uncertainty. The past few days have been...emotional. The meeting with Jacob gave her a sliver of hope, but the one with Edward made her question if there was even anything worth if she succeeded and broke her curse. If the man she loved had become a monster as his former friend described him, would they even meet again? But what if Jacob was right? What if the fire in him was lit to redeem himself before it was too late? Or maybe he was also wrong? She shook her head from her thoughts about that subject. As of right now, it was irrelevant. If she was to remain in this half-wraith half-hollow form for eternity it wouldn't matter one bit. She needed to focus on her survival in the Abyss.

Her appearance over the years had changed, giving her some leverage over other hollows, giving way to her as if she was one of their betters. She despised that. Why was she better than them? Because she was locked here due to a desire for revenge instead of sin? In the end of the day she was just another soul trapped here. The demons didn't seem to care for her status either. There was no doubt in her mind they'd make a move for the kill if they thought there would be some fun in it. Especially the wrath demons. So why was she going to meet one of the worst ones she's met? The one who gave her the curse that grips her hand and twists it. She didn't know. All she knew is that after her conversation with Jacob she felt a pull to his lair. The comment about needing more grapes of wrath was just an excuse to go. As potent of an alchemical ingredient they were, they were not worth a visit to that place.

The platform led her to a small town nearby. The idea that there is civilization in the Abyss was a novelty that wore off long ago, but it was still interesting to see how even here people still found things to do that resembled their past lives. What made her stop however was the sight of a building, more specifically, what was in front of it. A horse. Or the closest thing the Abyss had to one. It had the nasty habit of taking familiar animals and twisting them into uncanny parodies. It was owned of course and on the saddle she noticed a familiar symbol. The mark of Lozon's blessing. She raised an eyebrow at the sight of it. Could it be? Colette decided investigating was worth it with zero hesitation. If anyone could explain the pull, it was going to be one of his servants.

​

The building itself looked like an inn one would find on the surface. A difference being the batwing doors at the entrance. Atracan design probably. The sign if front spelled out 'Always open' in a crude scribble. Made sense. They were right next to a train platform that was seeing more and more use as the war effort against the undead continued. The music could be heard from inside as the piano played. With a bit of care Colette pushed the doors and entered the 'fine' establishment. Inside, wrath demons of various size and looks had lined up the chairs and seats at the bar, drinking their boredom away or psyching themselves up for what was to come. A few were crowded around one of the tables. Probably gambling and likely who she thought of was sitting there.

Slowly she crept up towards the gambler's table to get a better look. A few horned and bulky demons were counting their money and giving each other dangerous looks as a man in a fancy suit and hat was cutting the card deck. Observing the hands being drawn from the deck and the subsequent plays had her attention as well as that of the other onlookers. One by one, the wrath demons folded and lost their money. Some bashed and raged as they left the table. Expected, but she could do without the need to duck under a flying table chair. Eventually, it was down to the last two. The man and the wrath demon standing opposite of him. By his attire, this demon looked like he was a rank above the rest. The pauldrons had a few more spikes and the mace hanging at his waist was covered in runes. Their game was long and drawn out. It came down to the bone as they both traded victories. The tension was already high enough as the demon cut the deck and gave out the round of hands. Then suddenly:

"Aight stop!" The man called out "What is that you have there?" He pointed towards the demon's arm. The creature looked perplexed. "Show me your sleeve."

"No." The demon replied almost sounding indignant "I wont."

"You cheating sunbitch! You think I didn't notice that card you have there?" his voice became more agitated and more familiar tone of anger to Colette

"You're calling me a cheater?"

"Did you go deaf? Yes you horned fucker, I'm calling you and your stupid family tree a bunch of no good cheating losers." Colette raised an eyebrow from that comment. Why bring his family into it? "Your pop was too busy fucking random succibi to raise you with any dignity and your mom was too busy getting railed like the cheap whore she was to knock some sense into you, so you followed the tradition of being a lying and cheating sack of shit." That was the last straw. The demon grabbed his mace and with a furious cry tried to crush the man's skull. As soon as it had the mace raised a shot rang out making him drop the weapon as he gripped his hand from the pain. The gambler was holding a gun, his eyes ablaze and the cards in his hand turning to ash. Colette was right with her hunch, this was no ordinary sinner. This was one of Lozon's servants. This was a wraith.

The other demons were ready to spring into action, but the wraith was quicker on the draw. Two more shots rang out and they dropped their weapons. The others looked over their shoulders, hoping for a potential fight to break out. The gambler stood up from his seat, but kept the gun pointed towards his opponent, his burning eyes staring a hole through him.

"Sergeant Kerr here is a no good cheating son of a bitch!" The wraith proclaimed "And a piss poor fighter if I managed to disarm him in a second. Now I don't know about you deadbeats, but it sounds like the company is in need of some cleanup if he gets to call the shots among you." The wrath demons started to give each other confused looks. Some however were already brandishing weapons others seemed to nod in agreement with the stranger that just managed to take down their superior.

"The fuck are you doing?" The sergeant asked "How do you know my name?"

"I know a lot, Kerr." The wraith tilted his head slightly towards the demon "I know that you cheated a certain greed demon out of his share with the same trick you tried to pull on me just now." Kerr tried to shake his head and blurt out something about the gambler lying but couldn't get anything out as the barrel of the gun was pointed towards his head "Show me your damn sleeve or I swear I'll ventilate that head of yours!" Hesitant, the demon complied and pulled back his sleeve to reveal an extra pair of cards under it.

"Do you want the money, is that it?"

"Oh no. I don't have use for it." The wraith glanced around the bar "He just wanted me to humiliate you in front of your men. Seeing your ready to shit yourself is pay enough." While never tearing his eyes away from his target, the wraith started to walk towards the exit, gun still pointed towards Kerr "I would stay and chat, but duty calls to somewhere more important. But I do wonder what you boys will be doing now with your impotent leader." He walked out the doors. Colette looked around and noticed the demons looking at each other with their weapons drawn. She had enough sense to get out of there before someone decided they want a promotion.

As soon as she was out the door she could hear the sound of blades clashing, furniture being crushed from under someone's weight and audible screams followed by death rattles. She hurried after the gambler, who was already saddling up to leave.

"Monsieur...monsieur." She tried to get his attention "Monsieur Constantine!" He stopped what he was doing and turned towards her. The fire from his eyes was gone, but the shadows still lingered to give him an unsettling look to his face

"Now...how do you know my name, ma'am?" His voice was rather...soft "Because I don't recall saying it in the past several weeks."

"We all know the names of the active wraiths, monsieur Constantine." Colette replied as calmly as she could "After all, we are bound to your wills as much as we are to father Lozon."

"Ah, I see now." Constantine relaxed himself and let his guard down "You're one of his shades." He slightly lifted his head up to give her a better look at his face or what was left of it. Colette's glasses hid her eyes, but his visage was still disturbing. Half the face was gone, burned away or the flesh had melted together. His lower jaw was just bare bone. The parts that were still intact were covered in scars. Yet, something about it all seemed...friendly. "Well, had I known you were nearby, I still wouldn't have called for yer help. No offense, but you shades tend to get in the way more than you actually help."

"I'm afraid I need yours, monsieur." It looked like she got his attention "I've been feeling a pull towards Lozon's dwelling. Like there's a call to me."

"Yep, I hear it too." He gave a short reply. Almost disappointingly short. "I was on my way there when I saw who was in town. Decided to knock off some business here before I see what the old man wants." He paused for a second to consider what that could be "Seeing as I'm a gambling man, I'll say it has something to do with the undead army making fools of nearly every wrath demon down here." He took a quick look at her "Say, how about you and me go there together? Since you're looking to help me, I could use the company. This jackass is a poor conversation partner" The wraith pointed to his horse "That suitcase looks heavy anyway."

"Oh! I don't see how you can fit it on the horse."

"Leave it to me." He turned around to face his horse and started murmuring something a few seconds later the creature was engulfed in flame. Despite the inferno, it didn't seem to mind it. Colette on the other hand had to cover her eyes from the sudden flash. When her sight refocused, she couldn't believe it. The beast was there, but there was another one just the same right next to it and behind them was a stage coach. "Neat trick, huh?" The wraith boasted "Working for the old man is draining, but the travel perks are pretty nice." He motioned for her to climb on "Come on now. Let's see what the old boy has in store."

 

[Infab]

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CHAPTER THREE

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The Train
Moving into the Heartlands
The Abyss


It had been a day since the group reboarded the train leading out of the Land of Dead Kings, having road through the northern portion of Keggoth's domain before turning east and heading into the western half of the Heartlands. The Heartlands were surprisingly well taken care of. Grasslands and trees as far as the eye could see. There were settlements here, brimming with activity. Demons, mortals, a variety of creatures and beings dotted the landscape. It was a little surprising to see, really.

The group themselves, at least those that weren't looking out the window, were tending to themselves. Putting food in their bellies, getting baths to wash away the dirt and blood, and simply trying to rest before they reached Dis. The heart of Taranoch's Abyss. They would need to be quick. Get inside, get the artifacts, and leave. Otherwise, turn into a demon and remain here for eternity...or perish to any demons that may engage them inside the palace.

Vincent sat quiet in his cabin, gazing down at the sword in his hand. The wretched thing he was forced to use in order to survive this mess. He had yet to meet his shadow copy...but he knew he would face him soon enough. Just a matter of time, really. Valeria, on the other hand, found herself quietly enjoying the comfort of a hot bath. It had been literally thirty Abyssal years since she had a decent one...one that didn't consist of a bucket with cold water and soap. She also had fresh clothes, brought to her by Kat. A succubus she was warry of, but...whom was actually nice like that tall thin one they had left behind in the Land of Dead kings. And like that demon travelling with them. Leakhana. She was alright.

Eventually, she got out and dried off, before dressing herself and heading to where Jakob was. She hoped the Abyss hadn't dragged him down...She missed his optimism and spirit. She'd visit Cassandra and Mariette afterwards. She had to ask them as to how they ended up together, after being such bitter enemies while in the Mortal Realm.

 

[joshuadim]

"Then you can speak of it to me now." Ethraeil spoke from behind Tariun as he weakly walked in to where they were. He simply to one another for a moment before grunting: "I assume the mission from the inquisitors failed from what I hear... Taranoch still wields the artifacts, does he not?" he then asked, although he already suspected what the answer would be and was more rhetorical than anything. He sat down nearby onto a table and looked at Tariun. "The Runeforger. If he lives still, where is he?"