NationStates Jolt Archive

OOC: For any who read my Chronosia Fantasy History thread a while ago, you'll know the significance of Markus; last and greatest Vampire count of Chronosia. His return will certainly cause a bit of a shake up, and some new....blood for my MT equivalent.

The Guardsmen had thought it would be their ticket to fame and fortune; the old Keep. Inside it, they assumed; there would be money, riches beyond their wildest dreams and imagination. Freedom from the boredom and monotony of the stationing amongst the Kronos Mountain Range. Long ago; their nation had been great; then the Emperor and many of his acolytes had left them, going beyond the stars where they could not follow. Now they were a nation without leader; wihtout true soul. For all intensive purpose....The Modern Chronosia was dead. A lifeless husk.

Rifle buts thudded against the seals of the stone door; ancient writing and strange sigils carved upon the black stone. But they cared not; as unwittingly they shattered that which held it in place; and the stone tumbled forwards, a thud as it plunged into darkness. A light flickered on as they slowly moved to the door; a bridge before them; leading through the blackness; and they advanced....

Something seemed to move; the room seemed to spin and whirl. Lights came on as though from no where; braziers burning now as they advanced. The room was an immense sphere; ridged with spikes. Upon each was impaled a dessicated and dried corpse; ancient and dusty. In the centre; upon a pillar of black stone, there lay a great golden sarcophagus. They eagerly moved to it; greedy fingers playing across its surface; and then retreating at the audible 'click'.

They backed away. "What the hell?"

Mist billowed from the sarcophagus; the lid flying open as something rose; its black cloak wrapped around it; hair lank and white against its shrivelled and wrinkled brow; its eyes were swimming pools of blood as it turned; and they could not move.

"You dare..." It hissed, drawing the memories from their minds, taking language.. "You dare to trespass in my domain! I who commanded legions of darkness before your grandsires birth!" He plunged his fangs into the first ones neck; draining him, stealing that precious life. He felt the flesh strengthen, form on bone; felt his hair fuelled by the blood, filled with its former lustre. He tossed the empty body aside and grasped the other guardsmen by the throat; lifting him. The man gurgled as the blood began to flow from his body; spraying in all directions as some terrible force ruptured him from within; the blood going everywhere; the impaled corpses about the room seeming to twitch.

"I will need more....But soon, my family shall live again; my empire shall be reborn." He dropped the corpse; savoring the crunch as he advanced.

"Yes; the Von Carstein line shall live again. I, Markus Von Carstein; shall take my rightful place..." His tongue carressed his fangs. "As Count of Chronosia once more...."

Bump for Interest

Hands, ancient and pale, caressed runes throughout the tomb complex; running fingers across the ancient symbols and sigils; energy crackling across them as he intoned the ancient words; long memorised; engraved upon his decadent mind.

"Come forth dark host; come forth, black army; rise; servants of the damned, slaves of my power! Rise! Come forth!"

The walls crackled, gleaming, shimmering; the countless bodies that lay behind them stirred; moved; rising in unnatural life. Darkness fuelled them, blind servitude. They moved forth; tearing aside the dark walls; standing ready; as he made his way through into the main room. The entombed bodies upon the spikes were stirring, readying.

"Wait, my brothers; soon I shall bring the blood of men to complete our rebirth. Soon we shall rise across this earth as a black tide, sweep aside what has risen while we slumbered. We shall reign again; in blood and shadow."

TaG

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They marched forth; darkness shrouding actions and intentions; the nearest outpost a barely guarded border station. The soldiers surged forth, bony and blade and armor sharp and hungry for blood; tearing through the enemy lines; bullets shredding decrepit flesh or breaking bone; but still they came; the dead a relentless tide.

The Commisar, was blessed; taken and sired by the great Count himself; led back as a new general; a new lord in the black domain that rose amongst the shadowed peaks and dark crags of the terrible mountains.

"You shall know an eternity of service and war; leader of mighty armies. You shall be bound forever in hunger and turmoil, as my servant."

"Yes, my Master."

"Bring them!" Markus' voice echoed. "Bring the slaves...We have my court to ressurect..."

Blood flowed along the walls of the chamber, seeding the ancient bodies with life as they forced themselves free of the spikes; his great Vampiric Court; Lahmians, Necrarchs, Blood Dragons; even a chain covered Stirgoi, squirmed free from their eternal bondage; the hunger of countless centuries whetted upon their lips by the feast they had partaken of.

"Yes, my brothers; my sisters. Rise! By Nagash we shall have our revenge; we shall become rulers of our own land once more; we shall accomplish more than ever before. We shall forge an empire of Blood..."

OOC: Wait, is this open?

OOC: Yup

OOC: Then I’ll join…huzzah…
IC:

Cold, dazzling, clear as the midnight sky in the frothing heat of summer, as smooth as the glass pane of the ocean, so soft and deft in the waves, were the walls, standing still as blood still dripped from their fabled halls. Inside, the windows barely kept the creeping light out, as the candles flickered with rays of thought onto his mind, his eyes closed and his soul in a deep, sleepy trance. Long hair, hung over his face, his strands dark and void of colour. Black markings lined all along his body, his arms flexing in pain, as he kept still, and quiet, listening to the candles flicker, their light only dancing his shadows around. For he sat there still, quiet and faint, until he felt a great urge pulse through his soul, and with that, the water broke, the candles glazed over in a thicket of smoke. Vira stood up, his eyes still tearing, drops of tears dripping down like blood. Something, was terribly wrong. Something, that should not have been. Something, he knew that could be the undoing of many, many things, including the lives of many, many people. But what could it be? He wondered. Such a great threat? Such foes of power? He thought, his mind racing with concern and curiosity. Can there be a way to stop them? Or should things become one? Can it’s presence be justified? As like ours before? He thought even more, and the ideas that came to his mind hurt his head.

It was not a typical enemy, or ally, that he knew his lords would face. It was not a typical threat or asset they could, and most likely, would, meet. But what would their perceptions of his breed, be? For Vira had always obsessed with this, and now his obsession has brought him full circle to this new being, a slumbering entity that had always had a presence of thought lurking in the dark shadowy corners of his mind. He had to do something quick, and effective.

In a moment’s notice, he drew out his blade, his long twisting sword of steel, and extinguished the flames, in a single glorious sweep. The wind from the sword rushed through his body, and he opened the door, allowing the light to enter into the dark room. Exiting it, without even closing the door, he turned left and headed towards the upper sanctums of his castle, the marble walls still faintly showing the bloody remains of his victims. Vira, in his long black robes, and his gaunt black mask, was in a burning a fuse, the sun beating down upon him tenaciously, even when he tried his best to keep going, to keep his pace. I must tell, Arcarum. He said. Arcarum was his lord, the only one he had respect for, a man who had nearly died, and then actually did, but had the chance to come back, his life returned before his soul burned in hell for an infinite time.

Up the stairs, he went. His gloved hands grabbing the railing, pulling him along, as if he was burdened down by a heavy stressful concern. Finally, past the giant halls of Torment, the spiked walls and the gruesome blood that still etched it’s way across the brilliant marble surface, and he finally entered the large room. He had entered the throne room, where stood his friend, Nahk Territurari, the tall, robot-like man, his eyes peering out through the machicolations, as the wind blew in furiously from such a high place. “Nahk.” Vira motioned, his voice high and expressive. “Where is Arcarum?”

Nahk did not move, nor speak a single word for a while, but only lick his lips in a frenzy hunger. Who knew what went on in his apathetic head. It could be anything. Finally, he turned his head, his arms still clinging to the stone supports. “He is at the top of the tower, in the sanctums of Zarazego.” He said, before turning his head back, and stayed still like a statue. Vira nodded.

Arcarum often went to Zarazego, the tallest structure possible in Jenrak, hewn of metal and stone, to seek solace and knowledge. Walking up the stairs, and prying the wooden trapdoor open, Vira finally had crawled his way unto the top of the tower, the metal cage keeping them from flying out into the wind, as the valleys and the dunes stretched as far as they could see, the massive body of water laid before them; the Golden Sea. The Lord of province of Haasdra, greatest of the five Jenrakian sectors, was King. The Lord of Haasdra, was Arcarum Dreskisk, the emissary of Judgement. He had not a great strength that inhuman, nor a great mind that could warp the realms of reality, but he was blessed with a cunning. He was blessed with a trait that made him leave his friends and family to die, to only have him become stronger and greater than before. He had a trait that would cause the destruction of many of his people time and time again, only to have him bring more up from the scolding ashes. That cunning, would prove useful to Vira’s concern of this new mysterious threat. “There is something beyond the horizon that seeks power, when it has great strength already.” Arcarum did not reply.

“We must be wary, and get ready for if this comes to us.” Vira explained, his hands sweating with anticipation.

“What makes you so sure, Viraranar?” Arcarum asked. His voice was not a strong, imperial voice, not a great booming sound that gave morale to others. It was a deathly voice, a demonic echoing of souls, like a scream of torment from many people when he spoke. It was most unnatural, but many people have gotten used to it. “Is this another of your superstitious ideals? I thought I said no more.”

“Lord, this is something beyond our scope.”

“The breaching of the laws of Arochness, the resurrection of the God Nuir Enkur unto our plane, is that not something beyond our own scope? Or is that merely a nuisance of the greater powers?”

“Is truly is something beyond our scope, but we - ”

“Then why do you worry? It is not a threat.”

“It is! The Gods unleashed during those times were imprisoned by their own kind, by our help. This is a threat that our gods have no right to intervene in. If this being strikes us, we must fight; alone.”

“Why fight? There could be an alliance formed. Blood will be shed, dear Viraranar. But the true question is, whose blood will it be?”

OOC: I'd like to join if I could.

An old haggard lady, clothes torn and dirty, proceeded to march up and down the streets with signs of the impending apocalypse, spouting bible passages and messages of doom. Nothing new, she always did it.

Today however, she was particularly feverent, spouting that a great power has arisen and that those who do not join her will die at the hands of another to feed his pleasure. Her screeching voice attracted no onlookers, save for two very annoyed police officers.

"Okay lady! Calm down or we'll have to book you again." One of the police officers reasoned.

"His power is great! Very strong. You must join me! We must save the world! He's coming! He's coming! Just you wait!"

"Didn't they already explain to you at the institution that you're psycho? I mean, how'd you get out early spouting crap like this."

The old lady's head turned suddenly, her eyes gazing down into the officer's soul, giving him a most uncomfortable chill.

The other officer stepped foward.

The old lady froze him too with her gaze, forcing them both to be transfixed in their places.

"Your last moments of life you pathetic mortals will be watching your own blood stream from your miserable necks and color the earth a crimson red," she snarled.

One of the police officers regained his stature and proceeded to get out his handcuffs. "Alright lady! You've said enough you freak. You're under arrest."

The lady grabbed the man by the neck, choking the officer with superhuman strength. The other officer pulled out his gun, shooting the old lady, apparently wounding her. She threw the police officer she was chocking in the middle of the street and punched the other officer through a glass window before bolting done a narrow alley. The officers, after realizing they were okay, chased after the old lady.

However when the ran down the alley, there was no one there, except for a rather charming a pretty woman.

"Did you see an old lady run down here?"

"I wasn't paying attention officer. I'se just taking out the garbage officer, honest. I don't know," the woman said innocently.

"Shit. She musta continued down the street. Let's go." The two fficers exited the alley and ran down a street.

A hobo appeared out from the shadows. "That was a nice deception Rose. Or is it Marge? Or how 'bout Jacklyn? I don't know what name you go by right now."

"Shut it, asshole."

"Or is it Esperanza? Oh, I remember Spain. How's your Spanish holding up?"

"I said-"

The hobo, now miraculously a clean shaven, handsome man in a crisp suit interupted. "That's no way to speak to a master now, is it?"

"He's alive. I can feel it."

"Take these," the man said throwing a ammo box at her.

"Silver bullets, anything better? You know silver bullets can't kill."

"Yeah well, it knocks 'em out. Temporary death. Gives you enough time to escape. Or lock him in a box."

"Nothing to kill him with?"

"Don't know of any."

"See ya around then." She spontaneously disappeared, leaving only the man in the alley.

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