Navick
29-03-2006, 06:38
Draskovic’s Blood Tower, Planet Brimstone: Red Eye Nebula
Warlock Draskovic sat atop his black throne - rimming his golden chalice with his index finger, bored it seemed. This would be considered usual with someone who had been alive – if one could call someone who no longer possesses a heartbeat alive, for the past thousand years. He sat there, staring into the void with his lifeless, obsidian eyes.
“Sometimes I wonder if you are not just lifelike statues for which my ‘life’ is entrusted.” Draskovic said sarcastically, staring at the Vampire Guards standing, motionless at the foot of the Dais that supported his throne.
The guards remained still, just as they had been trained to do; some time long, long ago.
Draskovic sighed, “After so many years I should have learned by now that you’re all not much for casual conversation, but alas; what is one to do while they wait for a meal?”
All was quiet again. Even the winds remained silent around the blood-red iron tower.
It was only a few minutes later that something down the hall could be heard, a muffled moaning of sorts and the rattling of chains that echoed throughout the tower’s narrow archways.
“Ahh, it appears that my meal has arrived.” The Warlock said, as a sick vibrancy replaced his once listless eyes as he rose from his throne.
Two guards, clad in ruby red Armour, dragged a young girl towards the Dais, unimpeded by the pale girls fierce struggle and muffled screams. “Mighty lively aren’t we?” Draskovic said as he stared her down, a depraved smile suddenly appearing from his pale-purple lips. “Your struggle will soon be over, young one.” He said as he raised the chalice in the air.
The once calm air around the Warlock turned into a violent cyclone, kicking up dust and any debris lying on the ground. A sickly green miasma began to flow forth from the massive black stone set in a shimmering gold ring on his middle finger. The Miasma became imbued with unholy necromantic energies that Draskovic commanded, illuminating the normally dark room.
Draskovic cackled like a madman as the energized miasma bolted towards the now crying girl, stopping just short of her trembling body, “Now, now, don’t fret young one; it is almost over!” he said as he extended his arm to its utmost length as the illuminating green light reached its apex. His increasingly haunting laughter permeated throughout the tower, reaching as far as the distant countryside surrounding the massive fortress city. Then there was nothing but an eerie tranquility.
Though only briefly, time itself had stopped. The jade coloured miasma appeared to solidify, no longer resembling the necromantically-excited gas, but again, only briefly.
Her body decayed quickly; her life force drained into the Draskovic’s chalice through the miasma that quickly consumed her.
From a pale, but beautiful girl – young even by human standards, to a body whose age went beyond what was thought capable for a Vampire, till finally dust; nothing but worthless dust quickly carried off by the wind to be scattered throughout the barren country-side.
Everything was then as it was before: The miasma faded, the winds calmed, and the energies within the ring subsided.
“The sweet, sweet aroma.” Draskovic said as he drank from the chalice, drinking it all in one mighty swig. “Ahh…” he moaned, “… It is so… invigorating!”
His once wrinkled, pale, and pocked skin suddenly became smooth and vivid, free of any blemishes or signs of aging. His hair once frayed and gray nigh beyond recognition was now sleek and golden in hue. “My strength has returned to me once again!” He roared from lungs no longer weary, “And here I thought my day would be boring.” He continued, returning to his throne with a sigh, “I say within an hour or so we may have to do this again.”
All was silent again in Draskovic’s throne room.
Blood Tower Armory
Captain Ivan Jovic stood in front of a three-way mirror, inspecting his Imperial Cult Armour, making sure everything was in its proper place. “Lord Navick, be with us.” Ivan sighed as he swiftly placed his Gladius within its scabbard. Ivan looked about his room one final time before he turned quickly and left down the cobblestone halls towards the Blood Gate, a portal within all fortresses powered by the souls of the living to transport one wherever they desire within its range.
As Ivan moved down the halls his usual escort of two increased steadily as the distance between him and the Blood Gate lessened – From the many small archways and troop quarters more and more Knights began to follow Ivan in a tight formation - Vampire Knights armed with rapiers, massive blunderbusses, and various other weapons that made a Vampire Knight a fierce foe indeed…
Warlock Draskovic sat atop his black throne - rimming his golden chalice with his index finger, bored it seemed. This would be considered usual with someone who had been alive – if one could call someone who no longer possesses a heartbeat alive, for the past thousand years. He sat there, staring into the void with his lifeless, obsidian eyes.
“Sometimes I wonder if you are not just lifelike statues for which my ‘life’ is entrusted.” Draskovic said sarcastically, staring at the Vampire Guards standing, motionless at the foot of the Dais that supported his throne.
The guards remained still, just as they had been trained to do; some time long, long ago.
Draskovic sighed, “After so many years I should have learned by now that you’re all not much for casual conversation, but alas; what is one to do while they wait for a meal?”
All was quiet again. Even the winds remained silent around the blood-red iron tower.
It was only a few minutes later that something down the hall could be heard, a muffled moaning of sorts and the rattling of chains that echoed throughout the tower’s narrow archways.
“Ahh, it appears that my meal has arrived.” The Warlock said, as a sick vibrancy replaced his once listless eyes as he rose from his throne.
Two guards, clad in ruby red Armour, dragged a young girl towards the Dais, unimpeded by the pale girls fierce struggle and muffled screams. “Mighty lively aren’t we?” Draskovic said as he stared her down, a depraved smile suddenly appearing from his pale-purple lips. “Your struggle will soon be over, young one.” He said as he raised the chalice in the air.
The once calm air around the Warlock turned into a violent cyclone, kicking up dust and any debris lying on the ground. A sickly green miasma began to flow forth from the massive black stone set in a shimmering gold ring on his middle finger. The Miasma became imbued with unholy necromantic energies that Draskovic commanded, illuminating the normally dark room.
Draskovic cackled like a madman as the energized miasma bolted towards the now crying girl, stopping just short of her trembling body, “Now, now, don’t fret young one; it is almost over!” he said as he extended his arm to its utmost length as the illuminating green light reached its apex. His increasingly haunting laughter permeated throughout the tower, reaching as far as the distant countryside surrounding the massive fortress city. Then there was nothing but an eerie tranquility.
Though only briefly, time itself had stopped. The jade coloured miasma appeared to solidify, no longer resembling the necromantically-excited gas, but again, only briefly.
Her body decayed quickly; her life force drained into the Draskovic’s chalice through the miasma that quickly consumed her.
From a pale, but beautiful girl – young even by human standards, to a body whose age went beyond what was thought capable for a Vampire, till finally dust; nothing but worthless dust quickly carried off by the wind to be scattered throughout the barren country-side.
Everything was then as it was before: The miasma faded, the winds calmed, and the energies within the ring subsided.
“The sweet, sweet aroma.” Draskovic said as he drank from the chalice, drinking it all in one mighty swig. “Ahh…” he moaned, “… It is so… invigorating!”
His once wrinkled, pale, and pocked skin suddenly became smooth and vivid, free of any blemishes or signs of aging. His hair once frayed and gray nigh beyond recognition was now sleek and golden in hue. “My strength has returned to me once again!” He roared from lungs no longer weary, “And here I thought my day would be boring.” He continued, returning to his throne with a sigh, “I say within an hour or so we may have to do this again.”
All was silent again in Draskovic’s throne room.
Blood Tower Armory
Captain Ivan Jovic stood in front of a three-way mirror, inspecting his Imperial Cult Armour, making sure everything was in its proper place. “Lord Navick, be with us.” Ivan sighed as he swiftly placed his Gladius within its scabbard. Ivan looked about his room one final time before he turned quickly and left down the cobblestone halls towards the Blood Gate, a portal within all fortresses powered by the souls of the living to transport one wherever they desire within its range.
As Ivan moved down the halls his usual escort of two increased steadily as the distance between him and the Blood Gate lessened – From the many small archways and troop quarters more and more Knights began to follow Ivan in a tight formation - Vampire Knights armed with rapiers, massive blunderbusses, and various other weapons that made a Vampire Knight a fierce foe indeed…