A Light Dies, Darkness Reborn
Amateur
gender: Male
status: offline
Alias: Black Hood
Race: Arisalonian
Gender: Male
Age: Appears to be in his early to mid twenties, and maintains peak physical youth as if he remains in his prime.
Clan/Family: House Kaliba
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Post by Trent Kaliba on Jun 12, 2017 21:27:27 GMT -8
Talos had not faired well in the chaos of cataclysm. Word of Arc Kaliba's death had spread, and while the 'heroes' had returned home safe, his absence had made New Arisalon a powder keg Rosewyn found herself seated upon. Her son Trent, had other trouble. Talos had been fighting barbarian's bolstered by their superstitious faith in newly availiable demonic rites. Sure, with Hell closed those rites were little more than rubbish, but the citizens of Talos didn't know that.
The did know that Lord Kaliba, their Lord Kaliba, the Magician- was cavorting with an elven enchantress and -it-. It being the polite thing said when not using the full title of Lady LeNoir. Demons at their door, and in their newly constructed Lord's keep did little to alleviate the fear of people who had very little understanding of magic. In fact, some were so frightened they had started listening to their own demonic voices- voices that did not often come from hell, but from the fear, greed, and cowardice in every human heart.
It was this that set the trio to tragedy. Trent could not consider the feelings of those who lived beneath his grand tower- not now. Not when he was so close to finding out just where his Father must've went. Trent had a complicated relationship with his legacy, but a loving relationship with his Father. His death had ravaged him, devastated him. So while the world threatened to burn around him in the aftermath, he held to some dim hypothesis- that Arc wasn't dead- who really was when the right spell was used?
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Apprentice
gender: Female
status: offline
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Post by Sylvanna on Jun 13, 2017 6:38:10 GMT -8
Fear. Greed. Cowardice. Jealousy. It is what poisoned the heart of one particular resident of Talos. With a determined expression upon
her somewhat plain face, Megan Thistle carried a wicker basket covered with a
cloth towards the chalet where Lady Sylvanna, The Lord's Enchantress...whore in
Megan's eyes...lavished upon the seat of power in Talos. It wasn't enough that
the golden haired beauty had the eye of Lord Kaliba...nearly every male eye in
Talos gazed upon Lady Sylvanna with veiled desire. And the Enchantress, while
never indulging physically with those who offered such lust-filled gazes, knew
how to artfully manipulate those around her to do as she pleased. It wasn't
until the eye of her own husband turned towards the enchantress, when Megan's
husband began to stare longingly at Lady Sylvanna when she would visit the town
itself, that Megan felt the surge of jealousy fill her. Surely it was magic.
The witch was seducing every man in Talos and Megan would be damned if she
would allow it to happen to her husband.
Of course it was magic. By nature the
Enchantress attracted people to her. Like a passive aura that surrounded the
area about her. There were times when even Trent himself wasn't certain that
Sylvie hadn't weaved some sort of enchantment over him. But truly, Trent knew
better. It was not magic that had forged their affection for each other. Megan
was immune, or at least she told herself so as she marched up to the door of the
chalet and raised her hand to rap at the door. The door was opened by some sort
of golem, crafted of emerald. The massive creature stared down at her passively
before stepping aside with eerie silence and allowed Megan to enter. The
golem's massive arm extended down the hallway to indicate the next room where
Sylvanna was waiting. Sylvie often saw
citizens of Talos in the chalet. She had furnished the building with lavish
decor, indulging in modern and elegant trends. Trent had been content to allow
her to decorate as she willed. When Megan entered the sitting room, Sylvie was
languishing upon a chaise. The Enchantress wore an inviting smile, which if
Megan had paused to think, would have realized was a smile she offered to
everyone.
Megan's resolve faltered briefly. What if it didn't work? But
possessiveness filled her heart and she forced a smile. "My Lady Sylvanna,
I've brought a half dozen of those raspberry scones you enjoyed so much at the
spring festival. First of the raspberries, I thought you would just love
them."
Eyes of gold observed Megan, filling with pleasure at the offer of
the gift. "I adore those scones." Sylvie said, pushing to her feet.
"How thoughtful of you. Will you sit with me? I have some delightful
cider."
Megan shook her head quickly. "Oh, no, My Lady. Thank you,
but I've got to get back to finish up dinner. I just wanted to bring these by
while they were still warm." Sylvie laughed and smiled warmly. Megan felt
a flutter of guilt before pushing it aside. It was all false! Everything about
her was false! As soon as she was dead, all of Talos would awaken and see her
for the whore she was! And so as Sylvie placed a warm kiss on the woman's
cheek, Megan handed the scones wrapped in cloth to her.
"Thank you, Megan.
I will truly enjoy them. Please come see me again." Sylvie invited.
"Goodnight, My Lady." And with a small curtsy, Megan left with her
basket in hand, making her way back to the town-proper.
Now alone, Sylvie
set the bundle down and pulled the cloth away. "I really should wait.
Milhin adores sweets." And surely Trent would find them enjoyable? He had
taken the death of his father hard, and Sylvie was constantly trying to find
ways to bring joy back into his life. A soft sigh parted her lips briefly. And
then a mischievous curve of her mouth revealed the adorable dimple in her
cheek. "There are six. I can have one now." She giggled, throwing
restraint to the wind before indulging in a bite of the raspberry scone. |
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Amateur
gender: Male
status: offline
Alias: Black Hood
Race: Arisalonian
Gender: Male
Age: Appears to be in his early to mid twenties, and maintains peak physical youth as if he remains in his prime.
Clan/Family: House Kaliba
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Post by Trent Kaliba on Jun 13, 2017 6:42:59 GMT -8
Trent was not accustomed to being wrong. It simply wasn't something the Dreams of the Emperor, the Yggradsil enchantments allowed. Trent had the benefit of thousands of years of combined knowledge all collected, filed, and improved upon by countless Imperial Magisters. He had the instincts of a tried and true philosopher king- literally being selected out of what few Arisalonians the cosmos provided to be his Father's true heir, no... not heir, an improvement.
Hence, when Trent could not find a solution to a problem as vexing as this, he nearly wept at his own ineptitude. If he could not prove his hypothesis, then he could not reach Arc. A Kaliba man did not weep. That was something he figured his father would say, not knowing of his own father's many shed tears. So he steeled himself, and realizing he did need to eat, to rest, he descended the tower to reach the interior of the elegant chalet that Sylvie had wrought. She had provided a home for Trent and Milhin. In fact...until Mordred's folly, the three of them spent time having meals...laughing, singing, dancing. Milhin LeNoir had found some measure of joy. Some measure of silence from her own voices. Trent had in his seemingly infinite compassion had with his lover found peace in the midst of chaos. Sanity in the midst of madness. But these days, that compassion was replaced with sorrow.
The scent of raspberries lured him to her, along with the magic of her presence that he could rightly feel. "Sylvie... I'm no closer than I was my love... But you've been after me to rest...So I'll rest." He announced.
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Apprentice
gender: Female
status: offline
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Post by Sylvanna on Jun 13, 2017 21:26:54 GMT -8
The scone was half finished by the time Trent entered the
chalet. She heard him coming and quickly licked the crumbs from her fingertips
before smoothing her hair to ensure that she was, as always, a lovely vision
awaiting him. She would ply him with sweets momentarily, but first she would greet
him properly. As he entered the room, his Enchantress swept towards him, a
vision in white silk that hugged every curve with deliberate attention. Yet
again, Trent was dejected, feeling the failure, and unfortunately what he was
attempting to accomplish was an area of magic Sylvie just had no skill or
aptitude with. Hell and death were aspects far better suited to a necromancer.
"I may not know much about what you're trying to do, but I do know you
can't think if you're exhausted." Sylvie smiled warmly, golden eyes gazing
at him as though he were the most important person in her world. And truly, he
was.
Her hands came to rest upon his forearms as she leaned up to
capture his mouth in a languid kiss. "You've been working so hard. You
both have." She knew Milhin had not been pleased when Arc Kaliba had died.
Their motives were different, of course, but Trent and Milhin had been
combining their knowledge and talents to attempt, thus far unsuccessfully, to
reach their goal. Sylvie smoothed his hair away from his face. "Let me get
you a drink, Lover." Said with all of the allure of his lover, and all of
the care and empathy of his best friend. That adorable dimple at the corner of
her mouth revealed itself when she smiled, and she turned towards the table.
She gathered a bottle and a goblet, back turned as she poured. |
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Amateur
gender: Male
status: offline
Alias: Black Hood
Race: Arisalonian
Gender: Male
Age: Appears to be in his early to mid twenties, and maintains peak physical youth as if he remains in his prime.
Clan/Family: House Kaliba
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Post by Trent Kaliba on Jun 14, 2017 5:33:17 GMT -8
c=As long as he had the Golden Enchantress herself- or rather her daughter, he'd be fine. In the moments where he looked down from his tower disgusted at what his father had "saved', when the logic and rationale spoke to him of just how fruitless this life of altruism could be.. she was there. She lit the way through darkness, and to such a way he reached out after her, fingertips nearly reaching her wrist to stop her but falling short as he fell back into the chaise she had been lounding on. " It's as if when Hell shut, something else shut. I can't find him. Can't find where the power he carried into hell went. Energy can't be destroyed, Love... it would've returned to Dreanna, or it would of created something else. Dissipation, something, anything. It's the most frustrating thing I"ve seen. All the numbers point to it. He didn't die. His consciousness wouldn't die in this situation. His body perhaps obliterated... but what's a body? " He shook his head.
"Meanwhile, I leave you here to do our work alone." He sighed at his own insensitivity. He rose from the chaise and followed him, less interested in complaining, and more interested in holding the woman he intended to make his wife. They'd assuredly make pretty children. His arms slipped around her delicate waist, his lips brushing against her ear in adoration. He cherished her, even in these dark moods. Not unlike his mother had chased Arc's darkness away, Sylvanna was light enough for him. And her sister for that matter. " I couldn't live this life without you, Sylvie.
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Apprentice
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status: offline
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Post by Sylvanna on Jun 14, 2017 6:31:49 GMT -8
Sylvie shook her head vehemently. "I'm happy to do it,
Trent. I know this is important to you." Trent's projects had always been
important to him. She always admired how driven he was, how completely focused.
Her fingers nearly slipped on the glass. Clumsy, she silently scolded herself.
Feeling his arms circle her, she left the goblet on the table and reached back
and over her head, arms snaking about his neck while her head canted to grant
him better access to her slightly pointed ear.
"I wouldn't want to live this life without you,
Trent." She sighed with contentment. There had been a time when she had
been willing to relegate herself to being his mistress if only it meant she
could remain by his side. She thanked the universe, and his heart, every day
that he had chosen her instead. "You are my
brilliant...strong...sexy..." Her voice dipped suggestively. "Magic
Man. And I love you." Her head dipped back against his shoulder, chin
tilting upwards to capture his mouth. |
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Amateur
gender: Male
status: offline
Alias: Black Hood
Race: Arisalonian
Gender: Male
Age: Appears to be in his early to mid twenties, and maintains peak physical youth as if he remains in his prime.
Clan/Family: House Kaliba
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Post by Trent Kaliba on Jun 14, 2017 17:45:49 GMT -8
He met her kiss with the abandon of the man he knew his father's could've never been. He could throw this all away, right now. The projects too- if it meant a life with her. However quiet. Her kisses better than wine, he drank deeply and for a moment forgot the warmth that had splattered over his cheeks just earlier, moments he denied even from himself. The rage in him subsided, the wrath set aside. He could of never agreed to it. His father had asked too much then. As much as he admired Saphire, or any of the other women he had been instructed to court, his heart needed Sylvie. He squeezed her, pressing against her back as he held her, the kind of embrace that two people can have once all pretense is gone. A desperate embrace.
Added so quietly to the moment was a taunt. "Magic man? That's the corniest thing ever... You know that right?" For the first time in several day he smiled. If he could come home to this... everything would be alright.
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Apprentice
gender: Female
status: offline
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Post by Sylvanna on Jun 14, 2017 17:47:49 GMT -8
She giggled against his mouth, golden eyes dancing
as they met his, so close, so intimate. "Of course I do." Sylvie
replied teasingly with complete confidence. "But it made you smile. And
for that, it was worth it." She remained there in silence. Every moment
that passed, her body slowly sagged back against him. Head lolling on his
shoulder. Eventually her arms dropped from behind his neck.
"Trent?"
Her voice was so quiet. Barely a whisper. A direct contrast from the teasing
velvet of her previous words. Sylvie found it suddenly difficult to swallow.
"I can't...I can't move." A sudden hitch to her breath that hadn't
been there before. |
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Amateur
gender: Male
status: offline
Alias: Black Hood
Race: Arisalonian
Gender: Male
Age: Appears to be in his early to mid twenties, and maintains peak physical youth as if he remains in his prime.
Clan/Family: House Kaliba
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Post by Trent Kaliba on Jun 14, 2017 17:48:32 GMT -8
"What?" came the incredulous sound, without a moment's hesitation he said the invocation of spells, trying to divine what malady had struck her- a swirling orb of blue hued light encased them working various charms and counter charms to protect them both. "What is it?" he said as he turned her deftly to face him, putting her on the chaise within the protective spell, as soon as it was fully cast he set to divination to see what it could tell him of her condition.
Trent was not one to fall to pieces in such a challenging time. Crisis brought out the best in him...usually. But this was different. While he worked to see what had struck his love, something in him began to strain against the many lashes that had bound it. Somewhere the Weave itself strained against his will. "Stay with me, Sylvie...stay with me." Though he whispered spells and incantations, his hands held her own, they reached and framed her face.
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Apprentice
gender: Female
status: offline
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Post by Sylvanna on Jun 14, 2017 17:51:30 GMT -8
Megan's poison had done its work. The Enchantress's body was steadily being overcome by a sort of paralysis, becoming dead weight in his arms. It had started with her limbs, which despite her greatest efforts, she could not lift. "I don't..." She gasped. She didn't know what had happened. She had felt wonderful, in the arms of her lover until only moments ago. Sylvie wanted to lift her head, to extend her hand to Trent and tell him it would be alright. But words failed her. He touched her face and tears sprang to her eyes when she realized she couldn't feel his hands. Her vision clouded.
"Trent?" She could barely utter his name, confusion and fear lacing her tone as her lungs struggled to expand. They refused.
Stay with me, Sylvie...The sound muffled.
I'm trying...I'm trying...
Sylvanna Escalinenia's eyes closed. Her lungs did not rise. And Trent's name would be the last word she ever spoke. |
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Amateur
gender: Male
status: offline
Alias: Black Hood
Race: Arisalonian
Gender: Male
Age: Appears to be in his early to mid twenties, and maintains peak physical youth as if he remains in his prime.
Clan/Family: House Kaliba
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Post by Trent Kaliba on Jun 14, 2017 17:55:13 GMT -8
The spells failed. All at once. The wards, the blue orb of magic trying desperately to cleanse, to protect. And while he had detected the poison, he had done so too late. He muttered something, no...murmured..."Don't leave me." Whispered, not even heard by Sylvanna- for she was gone. His hands grasped at her, trying to pull her from the slumber he could not end. Trent frowned for moment, lost in the moment, pensive of what had just happened... he didn't notice that his face was wet with tears. That his heart had figured out what his head could not.
There was no bringing back Sylvanna. There was no reason to continue fawning at her corpse. There was no reason to keep those wards active. His focus on them lost, thoughts scattered he turned the one spell still in effect to the tray of treats she had hidden, crumbs discarded and wiped away. Trent did not hesitate. With a whisper came the casting of a diviniation to find just whom had held the tray before... "Milhin." He said to the wind, and the wind listened- carried his words and spoke them farther than his throat could allow. Once more that which had been buried by his mother's exmple lurched to life in the dark. The weave, the web, that which bound magic together, suffusing it's practitioners trembled. A grave disturbance as one of it's practitioners shifted.
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Adventurer
gender: Female
status: offline
Race: Half demon-half drow
Gender: Female
Age: ageless
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Post by Milhin LeNoir on Jun 14, 2017 18:00:34 GMT -8
As always, Trent could feel the oppressive presence of the Necromancer before he could see her. It was as though lights struggled to remain lit, warmth seeped from the air and time ground to a standstill in the wake of her slow wraith-like fluidity. The hem of her ebon gown dusted against
the floor as she entered the room, hands clasped demurely at her waist.
Violet eyes peered through a curtain of raven black hair, staring at the lifeless body of her sister. The Dark Child's expression was blank. "What happened, Trent?" She asked quietly, and to a casual observer it may seem as though Milhin were completely uncaring. But Trent knew. He could hear the oh-so subtle catch in her voice. It was utterly dangerous and terrifying in it's quiet. |
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Amateur
gender: Male
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Alias: Black Hood
Race: Arisalonian
Gender: Male
Age: Appears to be in his early to mid twenties, and maintains peak physical youth as if he remains in his prime.
Clan/Family: House Kaliba
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Post by Trent Kaliba on Jun 14, 2017 18:02:47 GMT -8
Prophecy was always so foggy. And none of them seemed to say anything about this. In a hall of mirrors, clouded in that prophecy, Trent seemed to be the one that would end Reign, end his bouts of terror against the family. And perhaps he did- and Reign continued on his merry way even in the company of the one dissenting voice among oracles and prophets. Trent Kaliba was to be the brightest light standing in opposition to a vast blanket of darkness. But suddenly the perspective of those visions had by those with the sight to see it- realized that Trent had been the darkness. Trent was far too stirred by grief to realize this. Perhaps if he had, it all could of been avoided. Perhaps if his father had been there. Or his mother, or even his Sister.
But the person close at hand was someone else. Someone far more damaged than him, whose hope had been tied up in the beauty of Sylvanna and Trent's love for each other, and for her. While a woman stood in the grip of fear, her consort off trying to defend a Tyran in the throes of rebirth, Trent stood alone save for the approach of Milhin. " Our light, has been murdered. Those below....they harbor her killer. " The spell of divination was complete. "Megan is her name. " He said the words, for the moment in the valley of decision.
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Adventurer
gender: Female
status: offline
Race: Half demon-half drow
Gender: Female
Age: ageless
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Post by Milhin LeNoir on Jun 14, 2017 18:11:04 GMT -8
The Necromancer was eerily silent for as long moment as she slowly approached the body of her beautiful half-sister. The trio had formed a tiny, very odd, but tight-knit family. And as she stared into the face of the sister she had done so much to try to protect and be close to...she for the first time felt uneasy around a corpse. She had spent her life surrounded by death and suddenly it filled her with an ache she'd never before felt. And Milhin hated it. The tiny butterfly perched upon the choker circling her throat thrummed its wings violently, as though it were an outlet of emotion her expression refused to betray.
She slowly sank to her knees beside the body of the Enchantress and lifted small fingers to thread through Sylvie's hair. Soft murmurs suddenly filled the quiet and a soft shimmer surrounded Sylvie's body and then seemed to be absorbed into her skin. "She will remain ever-beautiful." She whispered. "Even in death."
And then another spell. The dead men tell no tales. Unless it was to a necromancer. And while Milhin was resolved to never toy with Sylvanna's spirit, she could gather a snap-shot, a glimpse of a body's final moments. "I see her." Milhin crooned. "Megan." She tested on her lips.
"Meeegaaaaan." It was sing-song, taunting. "Sylvie kissed her cheek. Was kind to her. And she killed our Poor Sylvie. We need to hurt her Trent." |
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gender: Male
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Alias: Black Hood
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Age: Appears to be in his early to mid twenties, and maintains peak physical youth as if he remains in his prime.
Clan/Family: House Kaliba
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Post by Trent Kaliba on Jun 14, 2017 18:12:54 GMT -8
Yes...her." he said with a simple kind of consideration. "And all of the rest. I'll take from her, what she took from me. And then we will find out what our Megan will say to us. She will not die quickly." His words were cold, an unfeeling kind of wrath that portended a kind of philosophical bent. What had worth with Sylvanna's light, had nothing without it. " Come." The words came uttered from his lips, and with a wave of his hand the air lifted him high, responding to him like a servant as he warped reality to his whim. He was a wizard of no small talent, and suddenly did not care where the power came from. He did not care how it was wielded, and while Milhin's influence could be blamed in retrospect, it would be very much a lie. He was heading to the center of town, and he landed not with fanfare, but with the lightest of steps upon the ground. The golems responded to their master, grinding stone and iron encircled the town, each sentry still- waiting for their creatore to speak.. While those beautiful gem cast golems, did no such thing yet... but stood in vigil for their creator. Trent spoke, and while his voice was like a cool whisper, thunder acompnied, it rattled windows, boomed through dens and extinguished torches and lanterns both. It was prestidigitation in epic scope. "Talos! Attend your Lord. Exit your homes...and bring me the Family Thistle."
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Adventurer
gender: Female
status: offline
Race: Half demon-half drow
Gender: Female
Age: ageless
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Post by Milhin LeNoir on Jun 14, 2017 18:17:37 GMT -8
Milhin's eyes glittered like hard amethyst, her mouth curving into a smile that spoke of madness whirling about her mind. A simple nod was the response to his agreement and a flurry of tiny black
butterflies followed on the breeze into the town, swirling and congealing to take the form of the necromancer once more. Murmurs and uneasy glances passed her way. It was never good if 'it' was involved. Confusion was present, but soon their Lord's demand was followed. Megan Thistle along with her husband Brennan, their three children - all sons- and Brennan's elderly parents. Brennan was concerned and confused, he had no knowledge of what his wife had done in her jealousy.
The Dark Child eyed each of them with a growing need for predation, feeling on the verge of relapse into her previous ways standing right in front of her in the form of Megan Thistle. Milhin's head fell back and she inhaled deeply, inhaling the scent of fear on the air. But she showed restraint. Waiting to be unleashed.
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Amateur
gender: Male
status: offline
Alias: Black Hood
Race: Arisalonian
Gender: Male
Age: Appears to be in his early to mid twenties, and maintains peak physical youth as if he remains in his prime.
Clan/Family: House Kaliba
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Post by Trent Kaliba on Jun 14, 2017 18:19:35 GMT -8
"This family, commited treason. They harbor a murderer in their midst-" he didn't pause in his words to wave a hand and rob nerves and sensation from Megan, holding her fast- paralyzed in place save for above her neck. "And each of them will suffer for it, in their own way....They took from me, My Sylvanna. They took my protection. They took my food. They took shelter, they take and they take...and in their foolishness, in their insignificance- they reach out....and they strike Olympus. They strike at the heavens, and they look surprised....Bewildered..."
He outstretched his left hand and with a arcane gesture pointed at the two elderly members of the family. " When the lightning comes." It happened with a crack and the sudden flash of blue lightning striking the ground and in that flash, instantly killing the two of them and no one else- the only evidence of it's occurrence was the sudden overpowering smell of ozone and burnt flesh.
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Adventurer
gender: Female
status: offline
Race: Half demon-half drow
Gender: Female
Age: ageless
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Post by Milhin LeNoir on Jun 14, 2017 18:46:32 GMT -8
The murmurs continued as Trent made his accusations. "What does he mean? Did something happen to Lady Sylvanna? Why is 'it' here? What has Lord Kaliba so vexed?" The unease continued with each uttered and unanswered inquiry. They could not have expected what happened next.
Screams erupted from the gathered crowd as lightning struck, leaving two of the family dead. The death of the two elderly parents was perhaps the most kind. It was instant, consuming, with little time for terror or pain.
"My Lord?!" Brennan, Megan's husband, blinked rapidly with disbelief and sank to his knees. "Why? We have done nothing wrong!" The man began to weep, pacing about and looking with anguish between his paralyzed wife and his murdered parents.
A smirk curved the necromancer's mouth as she waited patiently for her turn. Since knowing Trent, she had learned to share. Her time to unleash her wrath would come soon enough.
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Amateur
gender: Male
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Alias: Black Hood
Race: Arisalonian
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Age: Appears to be in his early to mid twenties, and maintains peak physical youth as if he remains in his prime.
Clan/Family: House Kaliba
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Post by Trent Kaliba on Jun 14, 2017 18:55:15 GMT -8
"SILENCE!" Came the booming thunder of his magically amplified voice, bringing golems to approach. Then the glamor of his voice faded, the magic inert. He spoke to Megan directly.
"Megan, do not act like you cannot speak. I allow it." he said squeezing the spell, the application of energy setting her nerves aflame in a pain indescribable, as if phantom pain drilled through her entire body- all of her limbs no doubt feeling like Sylvanna's had felt. Then it stopped...the seize of her body relaxed, perhaps giving her freedom to her tongue.
"Tell this town what you have done, and I will be merciful to Him." he said as his feet scorned earth and he lifted five feet above the ground prepared if any of the villagers became too brave. The golems lumbered forward encircling the crowd, creating a perimeter. A fenced yard in which Milhin would soon play.
"Tell them what has happened to Lady Sylvanna." His voice never raised. Simply cold, unfeeling save the eyes. As icy as their stare, they showed an intense sorrow...tears which were held back.
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Adventurer
gender: Female
status: offline
Race: Half demon-half drow
Gender: Female
Age: ageless
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Post by Milhin LeNoir on Jun 14, 2017 19:24:23 GMT -8
Megan's lips parted in a silent scream as her body was wracked with indescribable agony. Her eyes darted back and forth between her husband and children in fear, cursing the fact that she had somehow been caught. How had they known that she was the one? Had she been seen? Everything inside of her cursed magic and wizards and demons. There could be no other way she had been discovered.
She felt the pain ease and her muscles felt liquefied. A groan of relief signaled her ability to form sounds again, though she seemed reluctant at first to confess and implicate herself in the crime. That reluctance turned to bone chilling fear as she watched 'it', the demon necromancer, meander ever so casually behind her three young boys.
Milhin smiled sweetly, mouth curving to reveal tiny pointed fangs. Her small hands lifted to splay atop two of the boy's heads. Slender fingers delved with deliberate care into their hair, petting the same way one might do with a new pet. Her eyes however, that unnerving violet stare, never once left Megan and made it utterly clear what was at stake with her silence.
"I killed her!" Megan cried, eyes squinting shut. "That golden slut! I did you all a favour! I saw the way the eyes of our menfolk strayed to her! How she had you all wrapped around her finger! Brennan too!" She sobbed. "It was only a matter of time before she stole you away from me! Please don't hurt them..."
Brennan stared at his wife as though she, and not Milhin, was the true demon amongst them.
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Amateur
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Clan/Family: House Kaliba
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Post by Trent Kaliba on Jun 14, 2017 19:35:19 GMT -8
"So this is what you've done... To repay me." he said not unfeeling but with a sudden sorrow. "You miserable wretch." he said as he decended to Megan, his hand brushing against her cheek, pads of fingers running over warm and salty tears. "You have wounded me, more than you know. You have killed...so, so, many. "
They had seen him as savior, the cunning wizard who arrived on the back of drake- whipping spells to defeat the orcs who threatened them, who broke the slavers- who brought with him a golden haired enchantress whose love for the people had fed them, sheltered them. It was in that moment, underneath the dark blanket of night- the moon brilliant in the sky.
"People of Talos, you hear her confession... What would you have me do?" he said without amplification, the quiet of those gathered was accommodating to such speech. "I ask you, that we return the favor... She took from me, my love- Lady LeNoir's sister. Will you not take from her, her love?"
The murmurs spread across the crowd, wondering what he was asking. Trent spoke one more line and waited.
"I offer one thousand gold pieces to those who bring me the body of Brennan Thistle. Do not bother, if he is still breathing."
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Adventurer
gender: Female
status: offline
Race: Half demon-half drow
Gender: Female
Age: ageless
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Post by Milhin LeNoir on Jun 14, 2017 19:46:13 GMT -8
Megan's eyes widened then. "No! You said you would be merciful!"
"Shut your mouth!" Milhin screamed suddenly, causing the boys just in front of her to start and Megan to quickly close her mouth and cower. Her next words were preceded by a slow breath and the tilt of her chin. "He is." She said darkly, tone soft and foreboding as she stroked the hair of Megan's whimpering sons. "Trent didn't hand Brennan to me."
Greed once again reared its ugly head. Several men clamoured forward raising knives and torches, one carried a shovel. As they all made for Brennan with the intention of striking the killing blow, they realized there was competition for the prize. After a brief, but violent skirmish, three men lay on the ground injured. The fourth, the one with the shovel, wound up and swung, striking Brennan in the back of the head. Brennan sprawled to the dirt, the shovel caving in his skull with a few more blows.
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Amateur
gender: Male
status: offline
Alias: Black Hood
Race: Arisalonian
Gender: Male
Age: Appears to be in his early to mid twenties, and maintains peak physical youth as if he remains in his prime.
Clan/Family: House Kaliba
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Post by Trent Kaliba on Jun 14, 2017 19:53:45 GMT -8
A maniac, a truly depraved individual would of laughed. Would of gleaned pleasure from the moment. He would of looked like a monster. Trent still looked like a shining savior. He looked almost placid there, his eyes shifting to Megan. "She did not lie. I was merciful. That was painless. Quick. Efficient. For that...this man, he is my newest warrior in employ. " He gestured to the man to come.
"You...you have shown yourself to understand your place. Kneel and know that while some die tonight, you will be reborn in the morning." When and if the man knelt, Trent simply banished him to another location, whatever to happen to him saved for the morning indeed.
The wizard knew such magic would be fleeting. This show had to end. "People of Talos...I spare you. I extend to you my every mercy. But you have allowed one of your own to strike at that which I love..." his voice grew hard- angry. And he lifted Megan from the ground and held her up to see the villager's amassed, all of which hungry for her blood- or gripped in horrible fear.
"For that, Talos- I will no longer protect you from that which seeks to devour." And with one flippant gesture of his hand, he turned his back. Trent was merciful. Lady LeNoir wouldn't be.
"Watch, Megan...See what you have wrought..."
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Adventurer
gender: Female
status: offline
Race: Half demon-half drow
Gender: Female
Age: ageless
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Post by Milhin LeNoir on Jun 15, 2017 17:12:43 GMT -8
Trent had turned his back on the people of Talos. He had made it plain that he would not protect them from what was about to happen. Trent's mercy was perhaps not so merciful after all.
He had just released 'it'. And 'it' was very pleased.
Black butterflies surrounded Megan's sons, clinging to them in a swarming cluster. The butterflies glowed as they drained life force from the boys until the three of them had collapsed to the ground in a limp heap. "Goodnight, little boys." Milhin's sing-song voice crooned to them. Megan screamed until her voice was raw, begging Milhin to stop. 'It' did not heed her.
Large violet eyes then observed the rest of the terrified crowd with unnerving predatory intent. Malice, hate, and glee mingled into one stare. Her head canted as the butterfly resting at her throat thrummed its wings violently.
"Let's play."
There were screams as Milhin erupted like wildfire, a blatant contrast to her typical slow and meticulous movements. It was all a facade. The delicate porcelain of her features, seeming so breakable, so doll-like was all a deception. Lurking inside Milhin LeNoir was a monster, and that monster had just been given free reign.
She lunged forward, hand raising to grasp the nearest man by the throat and with a strength that defied her tiny stature, the half-demon lifted the fully grown man from his feet. He gasped, struggling to breathe as Milhin's nails dug mercilessly into his trachea. Milhin then slammed his body into the ground with enough force to snap his spine, and the crowd surged against the containment of the golems. The golems, made of stone and steel, did not give way.
It was rather like shooting fish in a barrel. Milhin almost would have preferred that the citizens of Talos were given leave to flee screaming. It would have been a challenge, something to hunt. But this would do, and Milhin would slake her bloodlust to her satisfaction. Her nails elongated into claws several inches long, diamond hard and dagger sharp. She fluttered amongst them, and those claws slashed throats, pierced lungs and opened bowels to spill upon the ground.
More butterflies swarmed others, stealing the life force from their bodies until they were nothing but dried husks of skin and bone desiccated on the ground. Black tendrils of shadow and filth sprang up from the ground, snaking around limbs and pulling people apart in a sickening display of depravity.
All the while the Dark Child giggled madly, but eventually glee gave way to grief as tears spilled down her cheeks and her laughter was interrupted by the occasional sob. The slaughter was cathartic, and each scream she elicited from these penned cattle was symbolic of the screams she wanted to shriek to the cosmos, but couldn't.
In the end, blood soaked the ground, leaving only Milhin, Trent, Megan and the surrounding golems. Milhin slowly approached the woman who murdered her sister. Megan had ceased to scream some time ago, unable to do anything but stare in horrified silence. The necromancer raised blood-stained hands and trailed lines of blood down Megan's face, then took her hands.
"Their blood is on your hands." She said in eerie lilting tones. "You did this. You removed the one thing that kept Trent Kaliba in check...that kept Milhin LeNoir in check." She murmured almost lovingly to the woman she smeared with the blood of the people who had just been killed on her account. "And so when the people of Tyran cry out in despair at the destruction left in our wake, they will have one person to thank. A woman by the name of Megan Thistle."
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Amateur
gender: Male
status: offline
Alias: Black Hood
Race: Arisalonian
Gender: Male
Age: Appears to be in his early to mid twenties, and maintains peak physical youth as if he remains in his prime.
Clan/Family: House Kaliba
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Post by Trent Kaliba on Jun 15, 2017 18:16:00 GMT -8
"You will never leave this place. " Came the single sentence. "You will bear witness for all eternity, bound in your screaming." He said in quiet tones, uncaring to be 'frightening'. "Your life will stretch in mockery...and your voice... will rob innocence of their very lives."
Trent did not strike her, nor did he consume her in wizard fire. Instead, he'd leave it to the necromancer. She would make this one what he intended.
He, however stripped the chalet of it's enchantments and turned his sorrow to his inspiration. The city by the end of the night was destroyed, nothing left- nothing standing, just blasted ash and the dead. The very soil forgot his presence, epic ritual magic employed to sever from him all connection with the place to any sense. He bound the most powerful of magics to his very identity...severing the intrinsic connection between himself and family, familiar- all but the recognition of his wards. It was as if Trent had ceased to draw breath, his position warped and erased form the weave. A ripple of sensation to spread representing his very death.
But he would change the foundations of it, creating in the depths of the mine of Aether, a final resting place. Gemstone golems setting eternal vigils- bound magic and curses layered against those who dare enter, surging energy causing spells of sight to fail. In that tomb he buried his heart and her who held it- leaving Milhin to bind banshee to it, and leaving hell in his wake.
His final words to Milhin and her newest pet came without pretense, without the cold distance. It was the sound of a man exhausted- his magic depleted. "Seek me out when you have finished, and be careful." he said in warning. "Today, my old life ended...and my family will feel my sudden absence. To them, it will feel as if I have surely died. I imagine they will blame you."
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Adventurer
gender: Female
status: offline
Race: Half demon-half drow
Gender: Female
Age: ageless
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Post by Milhin LeNoir on Jun 16, 2017 21:40:14 GMT -8
"Of course they will blame me. When have they done anything else, Trent?" She crooned, leaning up to brush a kiss upon his cheek.
Trent saw to his own tasks, preparing the tomb where their beloved Sylvie would rest, as beautiful as the day she had died, seemingly untouched by age or decay. Meanwhile Milhin saw to her own. Calling upon magics and abilities most foul, the Necromancer reached out her fingers to grasp Megan's chin. Diamond hard nails dug into the other woman's skin and she forced the whimpering Megan backwards to the blood-stained dirt.
The air around them grew thick, oppressive as though the darkness became palpable. A sickly green glow began to consume Megan, and the wail that echoed from her lungs shook the very earth. If anyone alive other than the Necromancer had been present, they would have found themselves soon afflicted by the banshee's scream.
They remained this way for a long time until Megan's body gradually became incorporeal beneath Milhin's grasping hands. The shape of the woman grew less and less defined, a misty form that only magic could touch. A wreath of tangled hair hung about the banshee's face, clothing reduced to rags. Facial features became twisted and asymmetrical
With a smirk at her handiwork, Milhin cast the banshee a scathing look as she rose from the ground. "And now, you have a scream that shall bring men to their knees at the very sound. Not exactly what you had been hoping for, I know. You shall wander the ruins of Talos in your wretched despair for the rest of eternity. And your subjects shall be the people you killed."
With that, Milhin turned to observe the corpses littered upon the ground. With a deep breath and the slow raising of her dainty hands, the bodies began to slowly raise to their feet, mindless and unseeing. The moans of the undead filled the air.
Talos was no longer a place for the living. It was a place now utterly devoted to the dead.
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welcome
Tyrannights is a free-form play by post RPG with a medieval fantasy setting. It was formed in 1997 by Shawn and Doreen with many different owners and versions over the years. Its current version is Tyran: Tales of Legends owned by Sinead and Laelia.
Tales of Legends is world and character building focused with and original setting. There are no forced character aps or registration, so come stay in Wendy's Tavern for a drink. Have you character serve one of two Tyran gods. Rule a city of your own, or serve Tyran's Queen. There are limitless possibilities for your character's story... so what are you waiting for?
Tyran is PG 13 and LGBT friendly.
site updates (dd/mm/yy)
13/11/18 - THERE ARE NEW GODS! please check out the temple folders for more details!
29/11/18 - Both temples have staff positions open for those interested in joining the temples
29/11/18 - We are currently editing our achievements and adding more! Please be patient as we fix this.
current events
TBA
Time: Ongoing
Where: TBA
Host: TBA
staff
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Amika
x_Tempest_D
SW_Hotaru_SD
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(Username may varry)
Joshua
Shelzi
Storyteller/Trent
Wulv
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credits
Tyrannights/VampPub was originally created by Shawn and Doreen. Tyran: Tales of Legends remake is currently owned by Sinead and Laelia Content is copyrighted to Tyran unless otherwise stated. The skin is created by Wolf of Gangnam Style. The board and thread remodel is by Kagney.
Banner Image was created by Karnage82.
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