The gladius was thrust out to defend. The Marquis had been a well known swordsman in his day. Here, now, in the eternal night of oblivion he had all the time in the world to practice. If the turn of his head had been terrifyingly grinding, his arms showed no such issue. They moved with all the ease of a man well acquainted with his weapon.
He employed no fancy footwork or embellishments such as the snuffing of the shadows his enemy used. To the Marquis Raevarin stood in the way of his next meal; a meal he intended to consume. The empty eye sockets focused on Marlena during the next thrust of his sword.
"Do not despair, sweet thing. I will dispatch this pretender."
Arid earth, desiccated bones and shriveled flesh spilled from the ceiling. Somehow the mausoleum itself appeared smaller as if the walls were swallowing the floor and spitting out nothing but death.
Eternity
“Put some clothes on, you weird, yellow-eyed, table-dancing, werewolf-training, cryptic, stare-me-right-in-the-eyes-and-don't-even-blink wench.”
Her brow rose at the smile the 'man' gave her, as elegant and polite as he seemed, she knew that he was probably no better an option than being left to the skeletal thing that he'd interrupted. Whilst his appearance and manner were intriguing, she'd ignored her gut feeling enough already for one day to willingly stay where she was. She kept moving, her back pressed to the wall, the smallest of steps taking her along it.
Marlena continued to move, inching her way towards the chamber, though she began to feel like some sort of prize with the way they talked to and about her; almost as if they expected her to stay where she was. Holding back a laugh at the thought of remaining, her eyes caught the glint of steel, her chest rising as she took in a sharp breath as they lunged to each other, willing herself to move a little faster though she stopped when the monster spoke to her, cringing with it’s words.
She felt the wall change beneath her palms before she took notice of what was happening around her, stepping from it and turning, wishing to know what it was she touched, but in the end wishing that she didn't. Her stomach churned and her throat felt dry as she gave up the idea of being rather sneaky about her escape, electing to run as fast as she could, grabbing at her dress before she tripped and fell. She could hear their weapons clashing behind her, each time causing her chest to tighten, the experience was suffocating her, and every detail was etched into her mind, waiting in the recesses. It would all be played back in her nightmares, a vivid retelling when she slept, driving her to be scared of her own bed. That is, if she made it out.
He let out a soft laugh. It was strange, for the eerie echo it emanated reverberated in the room.
"Pretender....Who does this feeble plebeian of an undead think he is?"
The man thought to himself. Inside the rage was building inside. He began berating this fool asking him questions that were not audible. This pathetic excuse of false life was an ignorant child. He shall die just as an ignominious death as he was. It was all he deserved.
Raevarin's hands gripped the hilts of his weapons with more fervor, the aura around those wicked edges growing more vibrant. If one word could describe the pulsing aura and the tightening grip it would most definitely have to be enraged.
"How dare you. How dare you, worthless insect, insult my integrity. I will destroy you, and eradicate everything that is your existence. I will wipe your name from the annals of history, your memory will evaporate from the minds of those who knew you...
You insolent wretch....Die"
His voice was calm, his tone even but the hate, the discontent filled every word until it was oozing it. You could almost taste the vile hatred on every word that fell from Raevarin's mouth
Raevarin was soon awash in the same aura as his blades, his amber eyes flooding with black radiating the same crimson glow. On sight one would place this man as not a man but some demon that crawled it's way out of whatever abyss it came from. Twas no man but a demon. Alas he was no such thing.
He was timeless, he was power, he was a destroyer. Many memories of the past surged in his mind, the countless slaughters and armies laid waste by his hands and those of his compatriots.
He let that fury out.
The man seemed to fade from existence, the image of him splitting and blurring in the same spot. He seemed to be a focal point of some rift. Then he was gone. Streaks of red filled the air as he slashed, thrust, and sliced. It was all a blur of motion and light. It seemed to stem from everywhere with no clear pattern. Just a chaotic dance of energy surrounding this undead worm.
But he would be reduced to nothing, the very fabric of this thing's existence would be eradicated from time. Every particle of his being would be forgotten. That was Raevarin's goal.
If you sought to live you had naught but run and hide yourself away, but when the weak court death.....they find it. If you wish to challenge me, I will allow it. The choice falls not unto me or to the whims of fate, Tis your alone.
She caught glimpses and flashes of red and steel whenever she turned her head, looking back over her shoulder as she ran for the room ahead. It briefly dawned on Marlena that she was running straight for the room that the skeletal monster had come from, but there was no way back and the battle that went on would block her path even if there was. There was a pain in her chest, sharp and stabbing with each breath from her panic forcing her to stop a moment to compose herself as she made it to the chamber.
The crypt was massive and intimidating, the remains of the Marquis' lineage filling the walls, most almost turned to dust from age. Cobwebs covered what seemed like everything and spiders, insects and other horrible little creatures crawled amongst the bones and made her shudder, tearing her hand from the cold stone she rested against when something tickled her shaking fingers. The Marquis' sarcophagus had lain under her fingertips and she hastily wiped them across her dress as if afraid some sort of infection would spread and have her re-made into something as foul as he.
Why would such a crypt only be accessible from within the house? Marlena had never heard of such a thing, the dead were kept well away from houses and homes, you must show respect for the dead, yes, but keep them out of sight. Would there not be an exit to the outside? Some tunnel that would take her out into the grounds of the manor? It had been raining before she stepped through that opening, was it still raining, or had the sun come out again? Had night come during her adventure into the depths? How she longed for the fresh air and out of this hell, and it spurred her to search the vast room.
(Well, you're on two months of no movement with that story and your GM has retired. If you'd like me to post elsewhere still, let me know )
It was a terribly rainy day, the clouds stealing the sun from the sky and never letting up, causing gutters to overflow and drop water in sheets that crashed loudly on the ground beneath. It was cold too, not terribly so but a splendid day to spend in bed, if you were inclined to do so on such an occasion. The town was quiet and the market's were canceled today, with little interest and less bother shown among the locals. The tavern was warm and busy, but a little somber as well as it's patrons were all suffering water logged footwear and drenched clothing.
But a knock came upon Marlena's door on this day and standing under her eave, barely inside the barrage of rain, was a stranger. She might have noticed him before but most likely had not, as Ramir had kept a relatively low profile in town since his arrival. He was of course drenched, with his coat holding out much of the moisture, save his arms which were always bare. He wasn't concerned, he was familiar with the western wind that hammered such port towns as this and enjoyed the smell of brine that lingered in the rain.
The knock echoed through the nearly empty manor, a welcome break in the monotony of Marlena's day so far. Holed up inside, away from the rain, she'd been forced to busy herself with the books and accounts of the Tryst, almost falling asleep in the pages from boredom. Pushing herself away from the desk, she gathered the books in her arms and placed them on the dark wood shelves as she walked from the library to the hall, pleased with herself that she'd had the presence of mind to light the few candles, the lack of light from outside made the place feel stifling small at times.
Running her fingers through the lengths of black hair, pushing the strands back from her face, she considered who might be on her doorstep and prayed to the gods that it was nothing to do with the Tryst or suspicious churches. Marlena's fingers curled around the polished bronze handle, opening the door slowly though she immediately felt sorry for the half drowned stranger on her doorstep, yet having to fight the laughter at the image. Brief recollections of seeing his face in the Tavern crossed her mind, but nothing substantial, a new friend maybe? She smiled, leaning against the door, her arms folded in front of her.
You would have had a better time borrowing one of the ships from the harbour, coming up Main Street in this weather. What can I do for you?
Ramir tugged the sopping cowl back from his head and smiled in response, if a little cautiously. He offered an informal bow, nothing spectacular but simply polite instead.
"Miss... Marlena. I'm sorry, but I haven't the pleasure of your full name. My name is Vandal and we have a mutual acquaintance. I do hope you can forgive my being so forward, but might we talk somewhere less.... wet?"
Ramir was having a hard time fighting the wind and rain at his back and even now, it splashed water over his shoulders and down his front when the wind blew.