Blood of The Father

[Tacitus]

Tor had no use for sleep these days. Unlike others sleep didn't bring such cliche things as faded memories and nightmares, but a true pain. Whenever he slept his hand ached and bled well into the next morning. It was a simple choice. Forfeit sleep to forfeit the pain. The streams of mana and the strength of his very soul could sustain him for weeks at a time without so much as a single night's sleep, even under the most exhausting of circumstances.

He had paid little heed to the matters at hand, dealing more with the matter upon his hand. He seemed rather...fixated upon the missing digits that had been replaced by a construct of mithral. One would suppose anyone would be, especially when not even a cleric of considerable power could not rectify it. As he usually did he took his hand into his own hand, rebuilding with his knowledge and strength. Even then, it still bled and still ached under the confines of the mounting plate.

He was standing high above, perfectly balanced upon the roof of the Inn as he awaited the others. Given his talents his handicap would slow him down in the channeling of mana, such was inevitable. He would remain seperate from the ground. A mysterious stranger to lend aid when possible. To reinforce such a perception his appearance seemed to shift and alter to a mere shadow. He was little more than a man accented in green with sharp features, skin, coat, and hat all of the deepest black. He wouldn't be blending in anywhere, but he wouldn't be recognized worth a damn, either. Even his aura seemed to be hidden away, the man he had been cast off as if sent to some far away land.

[Kitty]

Fully prepared and decked out in her armour, she headed downstairs, stretching her slim limbs as she walked down the stairs. The deep sleep left her refreshed, so she saw no need to disguise how chipper she was feeling.

She arrived on the first floor of the tavern, whisper-singing a bouncy melody in a strange language, oblivious to any strange looks this might have been earning her. She bowed to each member of the group, and stood still singing, tapping her foot to the rhythm of the song. It was very obvious she was ready for whatever the world would decide to throw at her.

[VoxEladrin]

"Good, we are all prepared now. We are marching towards Dragon Fang Mountains." He said in a commanding voice too awake for his body. He started out the Blessing door, after paying the Innkeeper more than what was needed and the others followed him to the main road.

As they traveled the Caravan Road, a memory sparked in Vox's mind. When he, Raphael, Ainar, Wolfz and the others had set out on this very same road thousands of years ago. They were off to find the location of a missing caravan...

Vox snapped back into reality. He showed no sign of being in turmoil since his memories here were not good ones. He stared at the road and then turned back to his companions. "Today, we are just simple hunters on an adventure, but a week from now, we are warriors out to seek vengence on the demonic populace. I know the Halls of Death like the back of my hand, from fighting many battles there. You all follow my lead when we get to the base of the mountains. Understand?" He asked in a sharp tone, though more of a command than a request. The group all nodded, some of them feeling a frightening aura comming from this man; an aura of pure hatred.

The group continued north-north-west untill dusk where Vox spotted a plataeu where the group could rest. He told everyone to set up tents and he started to create a barrier around the camp, a barrier of purple flames and sleek ice. He then covered that with a light-bending spell which then made the camp invisible to outside eyes.

Powerful was this tragic hero.


OOC: Comments on my Uther Fan art? (See avatar)

[Vadriel]

V'kleta watched as Vox laid his defenses and snorted. Amusing that he thought such things would deceive demons. Any demon sensing the camp would easily step through the fabrics of the Realms and bypass the barriers. This false security was irritating, the sign of one who had never before faced demons of any caliber. V'kleta sighed. He had not wanted to expend much energy until battle was found, but this was a worthy pursuit.

Careful to keep his expression careless and typical to his attitude, he reached out into the fabrics of the Realms and began his work. Using the energy given to him by his demonic heritage, coupled with the power fed to him by the charged scythe, he laid his own barriers across the paths that would be necessary to bypass the physical obstacles. Such an energy signature would be vaguely detectable to anyone with extreme sensory abilities, and would likely be more visible to demons than the physical defenses, but it would take an incredibly powerful demon to breach them, and doing so would weaken it considerably, making it no more than an entertaining challenge to dispatch it.

His work done, he withdrew himself from the fabrics, and smiled minutely to himself. Now, the sense of security from the physical barriers will be made substantiated by the spectral ones he laid. His companions were souls of great power, and he would not allow them to come to harm as long as they were in his company.

[VoxEladrin]

Vox felt his barriers being reinforced by something even more powerful than he and he looked at J'kar with those soul-piercing blue eyes of his. His glare was half threatening, half grateful. He had been out of practice in the spell department and could only remember some of his more basic spells and the weakest form of Magitto. He muttered his thanks to V'klea and put a stone slab on the ground big enough to fit someone's head and ignited it with purple flame. Heat started to fill the camp space and to be on the safe side, Vox added an anti-heat barrier to the defences, further safeguarding them from demons.

He stared at the Draconian and his eye twitched slightly. He had definatly branded him a rival. Vox knew that in his current state, he wouldn't be able to perform those flashy spells that V'klea used and grumbled in jelousy. If only I had at least half of the power I used to... Vox thought, suddenly feeling very old.

[Vadriel]

His work reinforcing the barriers done, V'kleta surveyed his surroundings. The plateau was rather barren...not many places for a creature of the air such as he to be comfortable...this just would not do. If he was to rest properly, he would need a proper aerie.

V'kleta walked around, searching for an adequate place, before he found a nice little corner inside the barrier away from the others. He coiled Kir'halla around himself, then rubbed his hands together, building up some energy. He extended his fists into the corner, and an ancient Daemonaic symbol etched itself in flame in a circular area roughly ten feet in diameter. He opened his hands, and the character began to smoke and boil, the ground it covered melting. V'kleta raised his hands, and a geyser of magma erupted over 30 feet into the air, a perfect column that never strayed from its tight circle confines. He closed his hands back into fists, and the column of lava rapidly cooled, hardening into a black obsidian pillar, flat at the top.

Grunting approval, V'kleta flew up to top of his new roost and settled into a crouch, sweeping his massive wings around himself like a protective shield. Kir'halla uncoiled itself and embedded its pointed pommel into the rock beside him, standing straight and proud beside its puppet. V'kleta's hand unconsciously raised to lightly grasp the handle, and he entered his Vicht'na state, resting dormantly yet fully aware of his surroundings, ready to leap into action from his guard tower/aerie at any sign of danger. And so did he sleep.

[Final Warrior]

OOC: I'm definitely joining. (BTW, the story sounds a lot like Oblivion...) I'll use the Final Warrior, just because I'm too lazy to create someone new. Intro me in, Vox.

-- Griffinhart

[VoxEladrin]

OOC: Roger

BoT

Vox stared off into the horizon, watching the last breath of sunlight leave the hills and he swore he saw a familiar shape in the rolling fog. The spikey black armor...the long hair...the silhouette sparked in his memory.

No, it couldn't be...could it? Vox wondered as the figure walked up to the plateau and easily passed the barriers. The man brushed the long red hair from his eyes and grinned. "Hello, brother."

[Final Warrior]

The figure did not acknowledge Vox's words. Instead, he leapt forward, rushing the Dark Flame Warrior. A single blade came out, slicing downwards at Vox. Vox, with amazing reflexes, brings out his blade, blocking, the two weapons meeting in a loud clamor. The armored warrior spins, pushing off Vox's blade with his own, drawing out a second, bringing it down against Vox again. Vox blocks, jumping backwards. The armored warrior holds both blades forwards, one above the other, in a strage stance, for a second. The wind, blowing lightly, flutters out the figure's menacing black cloak. No words are exchanged. Both the warrior and Vox rush each other, in a fury of blows, warrior to warrior. Minutes later, in a deathly mistake, Vox leaves himself open for attack. The figure takes the opening, prepared to tear the Dark Flame Warrior into pieces. However, Vox pushes the blade aside, rushing forward, into the warrior. The two stand entwined, the warrior's left arm below Vox's left armpit, their blades at each other's throats. In Vox's eye burns a deadly firelight. From beneath the menacing helmet of Vox's brother, a voice like a choir of Fallen Angels and Exiled Demons flows forth.

"Well fought, dear Brother."

[VoxEladrin]

Vox grinned again and opened his hand, Ilya morphing into his back again. He hugged the armor clad warrior quickly then stepped back. "Well fought indeed, brother. It has been three thousand years." He smirked and stared at the face under the helmet. "And you haven't aged a day." He cracked his neck and laughed. "Seems I haven't forgotten how to fight after all."

[Final Warrior]

The armored warrior took a step back, looking his brother over.

"Alive again, I see. Death was quite unbecoming of you."

The warrior sheathed his two blades at his waist. The warrior nodded his head down slightly, removing the fearsome helmet. Underneath, cold, silver-gold eyes stared out from beneath a shroudn of shoulder-length, sliver, gold-streaked hair. The smooth, unwrinkled, unsmiling face seemed, to Vox, the same as it was three thousand years ago. But the eyes had a different, haunted look to them.

[VoxEladrin]

Vox shrugged. "Father doesn't want my unworthy soul it seems. If I had my way, I'd be in the afterlife with my wife and daughter. But I'm not, and so I must make the most of it. Wolffang is somehow still living and thus, I must kill him once and for all." Vox said, his tone of voice suddenly changing to a cold violence. His hatred for demons was not quelled at all.

[Final Warrior]

"Father... Father has been quiet for too long... but you are hunting Wolffang?"

The Final Warrior looked at Vox curiously. His Brother-Of-The-Soul always had despised demons, but his hatred for Wolfang seemed peculiar.

[VoxEladrin]

Vox nodded grimly. His personality seemed to have lost it's cheerfulness and had been replaced with cold disdain. Wolffang, the werewolf whom murdered his caravan and parents when he was a young teenager. The werewolf who burned the wagons to cinders, and dismembered innocent lives with Vox's old blade, Wolfsbane's twin, Wolfshowl.

"Ilya will taste Wolffang's blood. I can assure you. His hide will be the rug on my room floor."

[Final Warrior]

The Final Warrior looked into the distance, mulling over Vox's words, his... vow. Death took a long look into what was to be. Finally, the Final Warrior spoke, his tone as cold and unnerving as Vox's.

"Then why are we standing around?"

[VoxEladrin]

"The others need their rest, brother. They are mortals after all-With the exception of one, whom is a Draconian. They are to help me get to our destination, the Krih shi Tama-The Halls of Doom. I am not as strong as I used to be, I need to get used to my body and remember my old techniques and spells."

Vox sighed while explaining. He looked so tired on the outside, but he could never be more awake inside. Fatigue held no factor over this Bloodlusting, Demonslaying madman that was once a Hero of the land far back in history.

"I would appreciate your aid, brother. It has been a very long time since both of our blades fought demons in unison. May the Spawn of Lord Death; The Children of Lady Life; destroy their foes once again." He added a grin that would never leave his memory. The grin of the young red haired man whom boldly fought against demons then eventually losing his life, sacrifising himself for his comrades. He was planning something.

[Final Warrior]

A park of light shined in the eyes of the Child of Life and Death.

"It has been so long since I''ve had something to do... but then, the Halls of Doom?... We could use more help, more blades. The Children of Life and Death have never stood together for a single cause, excluding the salvation of Evers'ilance."

"What do you mean?"

"Razael and Tyravael still wander the Multiverse."

[VoxEladrin]

"Indeed...your brothers are stuck in that dreadful place still?" He smirked, glad he wasn't stuck there anymore. Since his death, his alter egos have remained as silent as his corpse. Perhaps now he was in control of his actions for once and not the God-rotten Angel and Devil on his shoulders. The Minotaur, in between was Vox's instinct. His father's essance he had stolen back from Wolffang. He had the might of his father now, added on to his own collossal strength.

"I wish I could sleep...but my dreams are haunted by that one moment in time, that moment I lost my life."

[Final Warrior]

The Final Warrior nodded, understanding.

"Death can be an unpleasant experience... but let me call the two Brothers. Tyravael has probably become a paladin or some such. And Razael is most likely causing Chaos everywhere he goes."

The Final Warrior closed his eyes, calling to his Brothers across the planes of existence.

"Razael, Tyravael, come unto me... the Dark Flame Warrior would greatly appreciate our expertise."

"On my way, Brother."

"Coming, Dear Brother."

[Venice_native]

And then everything exploded and died.

The end.