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| Midnight Encounters; [P] [PM for entry.] | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Fri Apr 8, 2011 8:39 am (565 Views) | |
| Mordikai S. Darkfall | Fri Apr 8, 2011 8:39 am Post #1 |
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It was a dark, unsettling night. Thick, endless clouds blanketed the night sky. Rain pouring down from the black sky in what seemed like sheets, moderately impairing vision. Even in all the darkness the silhouette of the Cathedral loomed over most like a giant, although crumbled and heavily worn. Somewhat overgrown, the skeleton of the once proud structure seemed ready to be taken back by nature. Small vines and pockets of foliage clung to the wood and stonework of the architecture. Small shards of glass from the once glorified stained-glass windows can still be found strewn across the ground and amongst the piles of rubble. Two large, thick wooden doors still depicted the main entrance, although rotten and heavily decayed. It is said that there are still artifacts and precious collectives still about the area, but nobody has taken claim to them yet. Everyone who has come in search for the artifacts has returned... Changed.. And never seem to be the same person again. Some never returned at all. The large, wooden door creaked open, almost disintegrating by the touch. The soft patter of footsteps lightly resonated through the air, silenced by the violent storm outside. It was dark, and almost impossible to see, even for a pair of Lycan eyes. A tall, robed figure crouched in the darkness. The holes in the roof allowed a moderate amount of rainfall in, soaking and puddling the floor. Hood up, he waited behind a pillar on top of a pile of rubble. Orange kanine pearls scanned the room, searching for the slightest bit of movement. The Nazarian creature welcomed darkness, it was his friend, his advantage, but still a worthy adversary not to be underestimated. Mordikai was about to creep forward when a lightning bolt struck the roof, and large pieces of the ceiling came crashing down. The Lycan went to leap out of the way, but was struck by a large brick and was knocked unconscious. His body rolled across the ground a few feet and stopped, lying limp in a small puddle of rainwater, up against a rotting pew. Eventually Mordikai's senses came about. It was still raining in torents. Almost heavier than earlier. He still couldn't see very well, especially being as dazed as he was from being knocked unconscious. Something caught his eye as the lightning lit up the room momentarily. He went to move and a sharp pain went through his left leg and up his spine. He wimpered lowly, and quickly quieted himself sharply, trying not to be noticed by whatever presence was nearby. Apparently he hurt more than just his head, as he looked down at his legs for the source of the pain, he saw that he was pinned down by a large, hefty piece of wood from the roof. He didn't have the strength to move right now. The Lycan froze, hoping to himself that he wasn't in any danger. He lied in wait.. Waiting for time to decide his fate. |
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| Graham Sideas | Fri Apr 8, 2011 9:11 am Post #2 |
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The rain always brought a smile to the young-looking Phantom's face. It was so depressing, the weeping of the skies and the torture of those that walked under them. It was poetic, in it's own way as well. And in the larger scale, he half-wished the storm would make itself out to sea and claim a few sailors. Another dot that would spark on the Phantom's dreary days. "Are you so sure about this, Sir? I can't smell a thing." The phantom looked up at his caretaker, Lucius. It was a perfect undead, and looked to be quite alive if you didn't look too close. His attitude was usually rather pessimistic, and sometimes confrontational when situations didn't call for it. It often reminded the phantom of himself, and brought a smile to his spectral cheeks. The blue spectral flames of his second sight danced across his face as he stepped through the wall of the cathedral, feeling a burning in his little chest as he entered the hallowed ground. The church had fallen into disrepair for many years but it stood for something holy once, something pure. Something that brought great pains to the incorporeal limbs of the young boy. He gazed over the room, his eyes falling on the dancing white of the lycan's aura. He wished he could smell right now, even if the scent was horrid he so wished he had the sense to be disgusted at the scent of wet fur. He crept over, hands behind his back, and hummed a soft tune under his breath. He could hear the words of the rhyme in his head, the three voices that controlled all his actions feeding him the words of the children's song. "You cannot run, you cannot hide... the reaper's coming home tonight." He smiled, putting a foot on the beam that pinned the lycan, lifting his phantom form up and floated over it slightly. He continued to hum for a moment, the words playing over and over in his head before he finally looked down on the pinned creature. He could hear Lucius shuffling into the church, finally. He had taken to the roof, jumping down into the rain soaked pews and setting himself down on one of the dry ones. Graham sighed, then turned back to the lycan before leaning down and playing his arms on his knees. He rocked back and forth on the air as he considered what to do. "I always thought that your kind were smart creatures, with heightened senses. How is it you found yourself in such a predicament?" He smiled, white teeth seeming to almost blend in with his ghost white complexion. His purple eyes bored into the creature, looking past his corporeal form and gazing into his living soul beneath. He could see the writhing white mass, struggling to get free. The struggles of the living were always an amusing thing to him, knowing he'd never feel such fear-or determination-ever again. If he ever thought about such things, it might just have brought a smile to the 'young' lad's face. |
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| Mordikai S. Darkfall | Fri Apr 8, 2011 10:45 am Post #3 |
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Mordikai's auds perked as he lay silent and motionless for a moment. Trying to listen for any signs of movement. He thought he heard talking. But he figured in all reality that his mind was just playing tricks on him since he has been whacked on the head. He winced in pain as he tried to get up once more, and he laid flat to the ground. Breathing heavily, he lay still, trying to regain his strength. He lay there for awhile, jerking occasionally to try and free himself from the debris. The storm had lessened a bit. Although the wind kept blowing rapidly. His auds perked again as he thought he heard talking once again. "Please don't be something I'm going to regret..." He whispered to himself. Mordikai glanced down at the ground as a worm wriggled over his finger. His hands were lying in a pool of blood. His own blood. This perturbed the Lycan. He cringed as he once again tried to stand, and sighed as he failed once again. He had had enough. "To hell with this.." The Lycan closed his eyes, and muttered beneath his breath.. "Anuk minot Ku-rhaugh lomaek Ti nonawe sinowhil.." He spoke in Nazarian tongue, reciting a minor healing spell. Mordikai's body began to glow with a light blue aura. His wounds seemingly sealed themselves as his condition was restored and his flesh looked to grow shut. The Lycan growled in pain as his healing powers took effect. He may have taken care of the blood and his wounds, but the process was a painful price to pay for such an ability. Mordikai felt a light pressure on the beam that pinned him down. His adrenaline kicked in, and he flexed tensely. The Lycan grunted and heaved, lifting himself up and knocking the beam aside. A loud thud resonated throughout the Cathedral. The Nazarian creature arose, slowly, grunting sorely. "What was.... Who was that?" The Lycan took a defensive stance and rest hit paw on the hilt of his longsword. He froze at the sight he saw. He had never seen such a being before. "We are. I did try to get away, but the debris pinned me and knocked me unconscious." The Lycan stepped backward, and stumbled into a pillar. He grunted as he cracked his back, but sighed with relief as he did. "Who are you anyways? Who wants to know?.." |
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| Graham Sideas | Fri Apr 8, 2011 5:52 pm Post #4 |
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A frown passed the Phantom's lips as the board passed through his spectral form. He always felt like a heavy wind passed over him whenever something like that happened, an uncomfortable and sometimes painful experience. He put on a fake smile, scoffing at how rude the creature was. Though, he couldn't say he was surprised. The white of his aura seemed wrong, and somewhat corrupt. That could just be his view of healing magic in general, however. "It's polite to give ones name before you ask the same of another, you know?" He shook his head, circling the specimen with interest in his purple eyes. He could hear the impatient tapping of his caretaker's foot, the undead not having the patience for the phantom's curiosity in this dreary weather. Good, he was getting a bit annoying lately and he could use the discomfort. The phantom floated up so he was looking eye-to-eye with the lycan, looking down into him. He was hoping to see some sort of change, some sort of rage or fear inside of it. Those two emotions were something that no living creature could hide well, and told much of them. The spectral flames that ringed his eyes died down slowly, making his spectral form float carelessly like a sheet in the wind. "What is it that drives you, mutt?" The only tone in his voice was curiosity, the necromancer starting to float in a circle again. His body was in the form of a child, and there were times when that childishness would leak through. He could hear the voices in his head groaning and yelling angrily into his mind, telling him a mass of things for him to say instead of the idiocy they thought he was spewing now. The "child" merely snorted, ignoring their blabbering for now. The sound of feet pounding on the roof of the cathedral could be heard, a shadowy figure showing in one of the holes in the roof. Angry red eyes shone down for a moment before the strange figure squeezed himself inside, a massive bats wind with a hand at it's peak holding him to the ceiling for a moment. As the hook at the end of his spear grabbed onto a lower ledge, the decaying figure dropped down and landed behind the necromancer with a pounding noise. The figure stood almost seven feet, and much of it's body was jutting, bones pushing through the skin or collapsing deep into it. Many of it's body parts were spliced with those of a bat, including most of his face. From the wheezing noises the creature made, it was in quite a bit of pain as well. "There's no sign of pursuit, we're clear for now.. Mi'lord." The last word seemed to bring great disgust to the creature. Graham simply nodded, a wave of his head seeming to let a weight off of the winged undead. It crouched down behind it's master, hiding in the shadows as best as it's large form could. It's blood red eyes locked in on the lycan, a mixture of emotions within them. A measure of hate burned in like many of the other undead under Graham's control, but there was a hope. Graham knew very well that hope was that someone would finally kill him, and it just brought a cruel smile to the spectral child's face. "Ahem, as I was saying... I suppose a better thing to ask would be what are you, exactly? There are so many different things in this world it's hard to keep track." |
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| Mordikai S. Darkfall | Fri Apr 8, 2011 7:44 pm Post #5 |
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The black furred Lycan stared blankly at the figure. He stood tall, eye level with this ghost that floated in front of him. He grinned lightly as the Phantom smirked with a fake reality. "Mordikai." He stated in a mocking, monotone manor. His grin only got more menacing, baring all of Mordikai's white, razor sharp teeth. His long, seven inch fangs were displayed blatantly whether his maw was open or shut, it was quite intimidating to most. He looked as if he had something evil on his mind, but nobody ever knew for sure what the Lycan was thinking. This Lycan was strange, maniacal and evil thoughts running wild amongst the Nazarian's emotions. This minion was sinister, careless to the t, and normally it showed. "SOO, since you seem to be so much of the polite sort," Mordikai said rather mockingly. "I wish to know the name of whom I speak to." He had noticed this.. Caretaker.. and couldn't help but wonder just what this creature was. He saw how the Phantom ignored the creature without disdain but rather enjoyment, and laughed under his breath. Mordikai's eyes never left direct contact with the fiery pupils of the floating phantom. "What am I?" The Lycan's expression changed to disdain at this question. "Hahahaha. I am, well, I supposed you could say a Vampiric Lycan. I hail from the lands of Nazarus, though you probably have no idea where that is." As Mordikai finished speaking a weird looking creature landed behind the Phantom. This startled him, and he leapt back a little, whisking his sword from it's sheath. He had assumed an unknown fighting stance, but definitely appeared battle-ready. The Lycan looked slightly puzzled as the creature spoke, and referred to the ghostly figure as Mi'Lord. "This.. Thing.. Is your follower?" Mordikai spoke, sounding confused but unsure. The Lycan lowered his weapon, but still clutched it tightly, ready for anything. He had hoped he wouldn't have to fight, as he still didn't know who, or what he was dealing with. Nor what these creatures were capable of, but he would if he had to. The Lycan's auds perked as a loud thunderclap resonated through the air, drowning everything out for a few moments. He looked to the skies as a large, bright flash of lightning lit the area. It was as he looked back down at the Phantom that he realized he could see right through this ghostly aquaintance. "What ARE you, anyways?" He asked, rather procuriously. "I have to ask.. You are nothing like anything I've seen or stumbled upon before. And just what brings you here, in such a desolate place of grandeur?" Mordikai finished speaking and stood tall, looking to be full of pride. "And how come you didn't just kill me like most others try to?" This question only made him hold his sword closer, tighter than ever. He still didn't know what this beasts intentions were, however blatant they may have been. There was only one way to be sure. |
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| Graham Sideas | Sat Apr 9, 2011 7:58 pm Post #6 |
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"Graham. That should do for introductions, I'm sure. Anyone else here will be irrelevant to you, for now." He put a fake smile on his face to accent his distaste of telling his name to this.. thing. How he hated the living, and their silly questions and queries and even the way that they breathed. It was one of the things that made the little phantom wish he could become corporeal at times, and just wrap his fingers around someones throat... He shook his head, listening to the man's explanation of what exactly he was. He could hear some of the voices in the back of his head explaining minor details about whatever the beast was talking about, mostly about the origins of the lycans, and some minor additions about vampirism. Somewhat interesting, but altogether meaningless. He could be an ogre, with the way his aura was dancing it was quite an interesting sight to behold. As far as where he was from, Graham had little worry or care about that. He was here now, which meant he could be used for the greater good. He turned his head at Hector when the lycan called him a thing, not seeing anything unusual in his precious lieutenant. Of course, the way his body was rebuilt was a little strange, sure, but he was still him. A voice in his said never thought that was a good thing, but the painful wheeze of his breath was a comforting thing to Graham, making him feel safe and even, sometimes, vindicated. The young-looking necromancer put on a smile that almost made him seem like he was actually a six year old, giggling, "Of course he's my follower! He can't animate himself after all." He noticed him clutching his weapon and a small wave of dark energy passed across the room, compelling Lucius to stand from his lazy resting to move over to his master. The caretaker was almost perfectly human, a stark contrast to Hector, but on many levels he was much more. Most of that lied in a dormant power that Graham was still unsure of how to summon. One of the voices tried to tell him once, but the sound of his voice was hollow, and felt numb. Something that the Necromancer was none too happy about, and neither were the living creatures he used to vent that frustration on. The question about what he was made him wonder himself, not being quite so sure. The Necromancer's mind was shattered in many pieces, and the one personality that had been able to take control was not the strongest by any means. He could easily weave the most complicated of spells, but he wasn't quite sure how or why he had become what he was. One word jumped out at him, being screamed by one of the three voices in his mind. "A Phantom, from what I can tell..." He seemed forlorn at that, the young lad always being sad that he couldn't interact with his own world. He didn't understand exactly how he felt about it, but he knew something in him felt broken because of it. It was... disturbing. Feeling so human wasn't something that pleased him in the slightest. "I'm here because some annoying fools decided to destroy their salvation..." The words slipped out before he realized what he said, wondering who exactly had said it. The boy didn't know what he had even said, never thinking a single thing about salvation. All he knew was he was running some sort of research, something that a voice in his head was spurring on... had it taken control just now? If so, he was slightly disturbed, not wanting to be taken over by a voice in his own head. "And as far as killing you, or rather the lack there-of of the action... You glow in an interesting way. Most creatures of the night do, but yours is more-so. I suppose it says.. you're useful?" He wasn't quite sure how his own sight worked either, never truly understanding how his mind worked beyond when it became instinctual. He knew that this man wasn't perfectly alive, or at least something was dark inside of him. Such things were always a happy state of affairs to the Phantom. With a smile, he looked to hector, who rose to his full height again. The spear he wielded reached just above his head when he placed it next to him, the hand that was on the end of his wing subconsciously grabbing for the tip of it. "I'll go do a perimeter sweep... the smell of wet dog is making me sick." The lieutenant undead moved to a nearby support pillar, climbing it using the tip of his spear and one of his clawed hands. He was a skilled fighter, and his abilities at surviving in the wild were just as refined. Hector himself wasn't so sure if that was from his living life, or from the 'gift' that his 'master had given him. Either choice was a source of distaste for him, knowing that he could never have the former again, and the latter was something that made him sick to his deepest core. |
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2:51 PM Jul 11

