There are times when you must make the hard decision. When the satanists of Ninth Circle raided OTS, Sammael and Kacus made that decision. Outnumbered, they bravely defended the Hall. Facing certain death, the two soldiers of the shade raced into the room in which the satanic hoard was fighting a brave guardian. Overwhelmed at first, the brave Tainted Knights, had to reconsider their tactics. And several minutes later, they returned to the fray. Springing a magical web over the heathens, Kacus immobilized them. Panic ensued. The fanatics organization fell apart. One by one, the samurai, Sammael, stalked his prey. Marked by Kacus, they were easy to pick off. Little attempt was made to fight the Shade off. Although they had the greater numbers, they had no courage. The evening was filled with the deathcries of these fools. The gusts from Kacus' manipulation of the wind could be felt all throughout the castle. Sammael's daggers dripped with blood and gore. More than defense happened this night. More than war. Annhilation. A message was sent to all who do not serve Ahriman's cause. "Your end is near."
The night was unusual this evening. He could feel it in the very air he breathed. Nobody talked about it, nobody had to. The tactician moved silently along the shadowed walls overlooking the castle and its surrounding areas. Each step fell soundless along the stones. Even the torchlight that gave a dance of orange glow seemed to shrink slightly as he passed.
The gates werent holding, their incomplete construction was being pummeled by the enemy every chance that they could muster the troops to storm. Twice now the Samurai had fallen in battle. Nimbis was caught in the halls. Kacus had been killed and he had fell as well. Things were looking rough.
The knights worked onward, ever vigilant and trusting in their Kings and diety. Faith never faulters in the true. This caused a twitch of a smile to soothe itself over the features of the creature as it watched the men working on the drawbridge. For now Indrrecor had his hands full, and it was alot for the man to handle.
The amber fire that burned in Armanon's eyes cooled abit as a talon ran along his maw. The creature turned and headed toward the east tower. Ahriman's Chamber sat atop the tower shrouded by the Shade.
Even as Armanon entered a silent prayer went through him as he passed through the Skrying chamber, please Ahriman, hear us. We need your help.
After many deaths of the Infernal and a few other deaths that got in the way.
Nimbis died many times but before his soul hit the mainland, he struggled to stay alive until he could complete his task and bring darkstars head to his loves grave. Darkstar conducted a Ritual with Dew and Orin and produced 4 powerfull stones that would help them on the battkefield. Nimbis noticed this change in power which made the urge to slaughter them grow ever more. But today no infernal were out, the land was peacefull and quite. The sizzle and crackling could be heard from fires from recent battles. Nimbis scowered the city and still nothing, Nimbis went to his hall and sat down on the floor and a racing thought flew through his head that Darkstar's way of living would be nice, kill anyone you want with no concenquence. Nimbis shook his head and assumed Darkstar was trying to sway him inot Joining him, or he got so mad that he just wanted to kill, but Nimbis didn't like either of those ideas and slammed his fist in the ground.
"I know my chief raised me better then this, no one in Benedier would ever go evil, it was forbidden by the gods and was considered treason"
Instantly Nimbis got a surge of energy as he felt someone closing in. Nimbis turnedaround as the red aura grew large around him, no one was there, Nimbis turned back around to Darkstar, Nimbis instantly launched a telekinetic storm at him and through him onto the walls. Darkstar got up with no trouble and rushed toward Nimbis launching his blade into Nimbis's gut, then threw him in the healing spring. "Ha, just like you week wife lea, your just as pathetic as her" As Darkstar shimmered away. Nimbis ranged with anger took out his sword swung it at the air and hit something. Nimbis opened his eyes to Demerol. Demerol grabed the blade of his from his armor and let it hit the floor, starring at Nimbis. Nimbis then busted in tears and sat down.
"Whats wrong Nimbis?"
"I failed my wife, I had a chance to kill Dakrstar and i wasn't strong enough, Demerol laughed
"Our whole clan isn't even strong enough to kill a god mabey if our clan and Spark's clan with Dulthail and Ahriman had joined we could kill Darkstar"
Nimbis smiled then fainted on Demerols shoulder. Demerol looked at the big hobbit and noticed his wound. Demerol picked Nimbis up and put him in the healing spring.
"heal up my friend we have plenty of work to do"
Demerol watched over Nimbis while heal properly.
Perhaps it is too early to look upon recent events with such dread. We have been victorious more than not lately. It is hard to overlook the additions to crusaders. Tassel, Pergle, and Havoc are not men to trifle with. Their change of faith is unexpected. It has rattled a few of the men, im sure. The courage of the shade is beyond question, but to look at men like these over the battle line is task for the hardest of men. My faith in our mission and my men has not waivered. But our victory will come at a higher cost. I will not voice this. I cannot tell them that more of us must die to overcome these forces. Ahriman help us. It will be a bloody and harsh engagement.
Focus is the key Sammael.
It spoke to him as a mere whisper of thought in his mind, so cold, so unrelenting. He had damned himself the day he took the swords from their cave deep in the realm.
Focus!
His body twisted in a deadly dance of swords and manuevers. The art of the Dragon stance was almost mastered but there was still so far to go in his mind that it blocked his forward progress.
Release your mind.
Both of the twin katanas shined with clarity, the blades as brilliant as the day they were first sharpened. They sliced the air with such clarity it was said they could even cleave a dragons head in two. It was a constant battle to release the focus of the voices that never stopped pushing him, constantly forcing him further in his quest to master the stance he had, for so long, practiced night and day.
The dust on the ground didnt stir as his padded feet touched and released from the earthy presence into the air while his arms twisted the swords in an intricate pattern against an invisible enemy. The depthless eyes of the skeleton stared out into the black walls of the Castle and again he focused on the motions.
Now, prove your worth Sammael!
The Samurai was faced with a mirror image, a warrior exactly like him, brought into being by the pair of spirits trapped in the Murasame and Masamune. It fought him inch for inch along the grounds, swords clashing in mid air as both combatents mirrored the moves of the other to the point where one would lose track of which was which.
The robes of the true Samurai was ripped asunder and black ooze crept onto the fabric as he sneered and released a torrent of counter-attacks. It wasnt until one flaw, the one he saw in himself, was opened before his eyes that he made his move. The mirror image thrusted the katana too far out and Sammael reacted with instinct instead of mind. The katana was enveloped along the smooth edge of the Masamune's edge while the Murasame was brought around and under the arm of the Mirror's blade-hand. With a quick upward draw, the body of Sammael flipping back as it happened, the arm was cut at the wrist and the mirror image screamed in pain.
Then he landed, no dust, no sound, no nothing as he turned to see his opponent still forced to stare ahead from the damage done. Sammael drew back and with a final stroke felled the enemy with a precised attack to his enemies back. A gutteral cry echoed across the empty courtyard as the image flickered and faded into black mists leaving Sammael alone again in the quiet night.
Thats when the voice echoed in his head, the sounds of the two spirits which haunted and helped him daily.
You are now a Grand Master of the Dragon Stance.
He had finally succeeded. Sammael had finally ascended to his rank and was ready to join the ranks of his brethren in true battle. The Samurai of the Tainted Shade was ready to be unleashed.
Nimbis was yet a Young boy growing up in a small village knows as Benedier with a man who took him off the streets and watched over him, Chief yaltar was his name. Nimbis had always dreamed of exploring the world instead of the outlands of his village, Nimbis had fun times with this women he had met from one of the other villages. As time went on this fun that Nimbis and the Women felt became affectionate. With the blessings of her chief and parents Nimbis had a mate. On there wedding day Lea had to bathe in the well of eternal lust but when she left, she did not return, thought it was not custom that a man go to that well when his bride was there, he set aside these customs in search for his beautiful lea. Through the thick grass Nimbis felt a thousand needles pierce his heart as lea lied on the edge of the well dead. A shadow fled the scene Nimbis jolted toward this shadow and chased him through the thick grass. Finally coming to a river the shadow turned around and he got a glimpse of his face before he sprout his wings and flew off. Nimbis went to his wife and brought her back to his chief and as the hatred and sorrow boiled up in nimbis he kept his sanity for lea to see her funeral. He promised to come back with her killers head. Nimbis went to there healer since he was very wise and described who this being was, a startled look came across the healers face,
"I know who this being is he is a commander of a rather powerfull army knows as the Infernal Order of D'Sar they are the ones you'll want to hunt, but this Darkstar will be very difficult to slay, a god will not be easy" the healer said "Then I will kill his minions to make his army and life miserable, I will make the altar fall." Nimbis said with a grin.
Nimbis then left without saying goodbye. He then went to a Bar in a City of Kjeldoran to cast his trouble off temporarily. He stumbled upon a bench at Market Square. A Large Man came and sat next to him,
"you look like you had a bit to drink my good man" Nimbis ignored that comment
"Do you happen to know anyone by the name"....Nimbis paused "Darkstar"
this large man said "oh yes, my clan are rivals with him and his guild." "oh by the way I'm Farg Leader of Order of the Tainted Shade"
"Well in that case i'm Nimbis" After many minutes flew by Farg and Nimbis got lost in conversation and Nimbis slipped up and asked if he would be able to seek revenge if he were to join his clan, Farg laughed and agreed that he wouldn't mind someone wiht such determination as Nimbis had. Nimbis told Farg about his village Benedier and about his wife Lea, Farg said he will get his revenge with Darkstar's Minions. Nimbis got his wish and was then a Member of the shade and served Ahriman till his task was complete. Ever Since Nimbis strived to survive and when he had the chance he would slay Darkstar's Minions. And Bring there head to Lea's grave as a offering to ease her soul.
"I must go away for some time," Demerol said out of nowhere.
"To do what, where?" Farg asked, astounded at this.
"I can't say right now. Trust that it is nessecary and ill be back."
"The throne will be solitary without you," Farg said glumly, accepting Demerols explanation.
"I have decided to bring to the world a new king."
"Eh? Ah Armanon? I guess he has the experience and is much an asset."
"No," the other King said.
"THen...." Farg began
"Yes, Silthe. He has the experience too, and I think this will step him up. It was close between them, but I think Silthe needs this chance."
Farg nodded solemnly.
"Also, he shows improvement and new strength every day, such as this will show his real potential."
Again, Farg agreed quietly.
then..
"Summon Silthe," Farg cried.
moments later...Silthe entered escorted by Armanon, the other High ranking Knight. And Demerol began explaining his decision. When he was finished, Armanon backed up and knelt before Silthe.
"My King."
Silthe, overwhelmed with pride, said nothing.
"And NOW," boomed Farg "we commence the departure ceremonies and celebrations for Demerol."
(...the beginning)
It had happened finally. He had forseen with the help of the Absolute Night that his reign with the sword would soon be finished and it had come to pass. The curse, ever present, beckoned and called for a new owner and soon it's will won out over the Tacticians careful planning and he was doomed.
Four of them, three seperate clans, all unified under the purpose that the sword had to go and that the Tacticians power had become a threat. His armor was taken by the Church's demonic priest Kaiko and while the most key parts to the Incubus's armor were stripped and given to the other members that participated in the slaughter, the sword remained with the Demon.
While in an act of kindness the majority of the unused equipment was given back, the part that mattered most was missing. His weapon. The weapon that fueled his powers through the collected souls of fallen enemies, the testament to Ahrimans power, slipped out of his grasp and into the hands of his enemy.
The blood moon was high in the sky the night he opened the crest. Silthe had joined him, per his request, in the War Room while the others slept.
"What are we doing here?"
"I must re-obtain the sword."
Silthe was now beside him, a comforting hand resting along the creatures shoulder. "We will get it back, one day. Full circle remember?" Armanon nodded quietly as the ruby colored eyes flickered in anger but stared at a black wood chest. It was long, about seven feet in length and bound in runes that were scorched into the un-earthly black wood. It glowed softly as Armanon approached and his talons ran along the Crest which bound the spells.
"What are you doing Arm?" A brow perked quietly as Silthe stared on. "Getting help." He replied quietly. The taloned drew across the imprinted crest, a large tower that held its omnious presence. It was the crest of the Tower of High Sorcery. All around the tome Darkforce radiated off of the runes which reacted to the touch of the Incubus Knight.
"What is that?" Silthe blinked and shuddered slightly at the icy wave that gripped the room. "Darkness..." Came from the Assassins lips as the welcomed invasion of the sudden evil washed over him and was gone.
"This? Its a piece of my family history. One I thought to be best left forgotten. But now, it appears, in the darkest of wars that it just may be the only thing left that can still protect our kings." For a moment, a brief moment, the ruby eyes of the tactician shimmered and turned black. Traces of violet swirled in the pools of blackness before his head shook away the lingering powers and refocused into their normal ruby hue.
"Its dangerous to play with ancient magiks Armanon, let us call Tirus or Balfour. Heck Cornell knows alot about ancient magiks let us consult him first, please." He could feel it in his brothers being, some masked presence that hung about him like an invisible aura.
Armanon didnt listen to Silthes protest. In a swift jerk the talons of the incubus ripped clear through the crest shattering the runes of magik that held the case together. The wood convulsed as flames ignited off of the shattering runes and a moment after, exploded into shards of wood and spellfire.
There, floating only inches off the ground, surrounded by bones marked with arcane symbols, was the sword. Its blade a deep crimson red, the blade carved like a demons maw, jagged and brutal. The hilt was made of bone, inscribings that were carved into it glew with an un-holy power. A soft wave was sent off from the weapon as it was released from its cage, it resonated across the lands to the far ends of Armageddon and past the deepest parts of the Underdark. Silthes eyes grew big as recognition plastered itself over his face. "No.." was uttered softly in protest.
Beside the sword was a dagger, a lone dagger whos crystal blade held a mysterious and undefinable liquid inside. Its hilt was also made of bone, with the same inscribings as its larger counter-part. Armanon reached down and plucked the dagger from its floating position and offered it to Silthe. "This is the Ambrosia Dagger, use it to steal the soul of the creature who holds the Absolute Night. "
As Silthe wrapped his boney whisps of fingers along the hilt the power flooded through the blade and into its wearer. The dagger joined with its kin and instantly the soul and weapon were connected. "But that... thats Po-" he was cut off by a simple yet stern shake from Armanon. "Dont speak his name.." But the Incubus thought it, he thought it over and over again as for a moment he weighed the measure of his actions against the outcomes it could produce. Yet nothing in the worlds had ever been worth getting if it didnt involve risk, danger, the possiblity of something going wrong. It was what he lived for, the thrill of battle and the adventure of not knowing what was next.
The sword was lifted, runes flared to life as a blood kin to its original owner awoken the blade from its slumber. The broadsword flared to life and beckoned Armanons being to give into its will. The Darkforce, it radiated off the blade like a living concious, its will strong enough to bend nearly any who touched it. It had been concealed after its owner was demolished by the powers above, yet now it had been unleashed again. A word whispered through his mind, a simple word that echoed coldly along his sub-concious 'D'Sar..'
As the blood moon shone its amber light down along the Courtyard of the Castle of Ahriman, high above in the Tacticians War Room, The D'Sari Warlords Broadsword was unlocked from its cages and the Ambrosia Dagger freed of its confines. Two old weapons brought back in a new time, a new age. Now with a single purpose, till the Sword was reclaimed by Silthe, the Broadsword would protect the Kings. Two warriors, two paths, two goals. One destiny.
(( We always write such serious rp blogs about what is happening like war and all in the realms. This time, I took the time to write up one that isn’t serious or dark. Now it is a pretty long one, so I will be putting the entire thing on the Extended Entry, hope you all like it.))
“Its your shot.”
“Again?”
“Hahahaha what’s the matter can’t hang?”
A mutter of protest fell free from his lips before the fingers wrapped around the large shot-glass that sat between the three friends. “I hate you all.” Then the liquor was downed and the glass slammed back onto the table. “Okay, next?”
The King muttered as Demerol reached across the table of the local bar in Kjeldoran and poured a glass of a Draconian liquor for his brother. The liquid slid out as smooth as silk and filled it with an amber color that was warm the instant that it touched your lips. Farg smiled as he looked at the others at the table and nodded before downing the shot and grinning broadly as the shot-glass was replaced for Silthes round to begin.
They had been there for the entire night, a night off from the War. It had been so long since the group of friends and brothers in arms had taken a night to themselves, no worry of the D’Sari Brood and the war brewing between them. No defending the Altar of their God Ahriman from enemy attacks, tonight that would be left to the younger knights and soldiers. The patrons that moved in and out left no mark of their presence behind and the waitress worked the entire room on enchanted feet. Every now and then other heros of the realm would appear to ask for quests to better their fame and get extra gold.
Armanon had shed his scales so to speak, conforming the demon within to shroud his form in the Titans flesh he had shed so long ago. It took deep meditation and concentration on the forces around him, but he managed to regain his mortal flesh at least for the evening. The Kings Farg and Demerol had came as well, it was amazing the change and difference between them when they weren’t confined in the Castles walls. Silthe was also there, Cornell and Nimbis. The three of them made up the finest and most elite of Ahrimans warriors.
As the shots continued to go, one by one, down each of the companions throat, the night passed by in a sort of haze. Demerol had gone to the Drug Dealer in a hidden room of the Bar to buy some goodies for the group and Silthe had ran to get some biscuits from a shop further in town. To put it lightly, the Knights of Ahriman were trashed and it was still early in their worlds because, after all, they couldn’t see the sun even if it did come up.
“Oh no..” Came the voice of Nimbis as the shot glass levitated in front of his mouth waiting to get taken in at the simplest of thoughts.
The others glanced and snickered as the small demonic pixie priest fluttered into the room. It was amazing such a small creature was so powerful, but none the less, he was just so little. “Pixie Splat!” Cornell yelled out from the table and rose his glass in toast. When Kaiko looked over, a knife sailed across the room and imbedded itself in the wooden post beside him. Kaikos little demon lips spread back and he hissed at the members of the group. Who, at the sight of seeing a demon pixie hiss, fell into fits of hysterics and laughter. A glare was given from Kaiko who flipped them the bird and floated off to get a quest muttering darkly about pig food and buckets with their names on it.
The night continued, laughter and arguments breaking out over more and more shots and a healthy tab running at the bar and with the drug dealer. They had forgotten about all the more ruthless happenings that consumed the day-to-day life for the moment and released their aggressions with alcohol and just a little drow-cooked heroin. At one point Sparky had fizzled out of the shadows after he passed beneath the ancient runes and wardings that had been placed along the foundation by ancient spell-casters. The Sorcerer even sat with them for awhile and shared some drinks over light conversation about the Stygian’s attempts at rebuilding and dealings with the Infernal Orders brood. It was amazing the little things that can be learned by sitting back and listening instead of interjecting every few seconds.
When they finally stumbled out of the bar it was well into mid-day. Each of them hid their eyes from the invading sun as they glanced around the hustling streets of the city and took turns trying to pin-point the right direction to go.
“I’m done..” Armanon muttered quietly.
Farg chuckled softly and shook his head, his brother Dem was the one who spoke the thoughts, “Hail to the Kings baby.” A sure nod was given.
Nimbis was walking into random objects, “Damnit!” He screamed as he nearly fell over a group of pottery jars setting next to a shop entrance.
“What’s the matter, cast confuse on yourself?” It was Cornell, floating nearby wrapped in his shadows. Unfortunately Nimbis thought Silthe had said it as the tricky spell-caster used ventriloquism to imitate the poor assassin and Nimbis turned with a mock scowl and casted confuse on him. This caused Silthe’s feet to immediately spin on the poor drunken Knight and he fell face first onto the pavement with a quick and sound thud. To which Cornell soon followed in another fit of laughter.
“So, what do ya’ll want to do tonight?” It came from a thoughtful Armanon who was watching with mild amusement at them.
“Nurse a hangover.” Offered Silthe as he stumbled to his feet and began trying to navigate while confused, like watching a man get his sea-legs, it was funny.
“Bah, lets raid Stygian later and knock over their altar.” Farg snickered in reply.
“We should kidnap their altar and hold it for ransom.” Demerol chimed in.
“Lets just kill someone.” Silthe muttered as he weaved past Armanon and toward the Square. “That’s always fun.”
They all shrugged in basic unison. “Alright!” Farg exclaimed, “To the castle then, we’ll nurse our hangovers, get our training done with early and we’ll have a night of hunting.” Demerol nodded in approval and they were off to the Castle Grounds. Every now and then they needed a night off, it was good for morale and a good chance to see who could drink who under the table.