Outside, before the white steps of the Justice Hall, was one lone horse. She was breathing hard, nostrils flared, but otherwise appeared calm. After a few moments the mare turned and slowly clopped along the road, still wearing her saddle and bridle. A few people eyed her suspiciously, but didn't dare touch her: the mark of the government was burned into the saddle's leather. Where she was going was a mystery to them, but the horse knew what she was doing just fine. A nice drink and a bit of hay at the stables was in order.
Inside the stark entrance room of the Justice Hall, pounding footsteps echoed off the pillars and walls, coming back in deafening tones from the ceiling. Ryxa was striding along in her usual heavy-footed, ungraceful walk, but this time on high-speed. As soon as she had entered her eyes went directly to the Porter, who was standing stoically with a polite smile on his face.
"Where is Judge Moryldar?" she demanded as she approached.
"In his office," came the reply, his smile or gaze never wavering. She grunted, "Perfect," and brushed past him. The Porter never even flinched, or moved, or anything. She huffed through her nose in disdain and kept up the hurried pace to Moryldar's office. When she had almost reached her destination, she stopped right before the open doorway's view of the hall outside. There, her mirror came out, which she used as reference to smooth down her hair and wipe away stray particles of makeup. Satisfied, she put it in her pocket, and walked into view of the room.
Her fury was evident on her face as walked inside. The battlemage went right up to Moryldar's desk, where he sat, and leaned onto the rich wood with fisted knuckles. The leather of her gloves and armor creaked eerily in warning as she slowly bent forward, and then the barrage began.
"You have got to be absolutely crazy," she growled, adding a part threat-part sarcasm phrase, "Your Honor, if you thought I would work with that filthy beast. First you started thinking me a dog that would sniff out your prey for you, and I went along with it as a one-time deal, but I am not a fucking bloodhound like your whiny little scryers, and I am not doing that EVER AGAIN, you hear me?!" She began to shout, and pounded the desk with her fist. "Now you want me to run around with a fucking VAMPIRE who leers at me like I'm her goddamn lunch! You are a misguided old fool if you think you can treat me this way and get away with it." The last part was hissed, before she shouted again. "I am a pain-bringer, not a dog, and certainly not a pawn you can afford to throw away! I could burn this whole city to the ground with a thought and an inclination, if you press me, and you very well know it. So you had better call the other judges in here right now and decide on SOMEONE ELSE because I am not your errand-girl!"
The sudden silence was startling as Ryxa stood leaning over his desk, panting with the exertion of coming here as fast as possible and then shouting in Moryldar's face. Her eyes glared widely at the Judge, her muscles tense for one small, wrong word to come out of his lips, waiting for the trigger which would get her started again.
Fit
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Blood Ravenous
- Battlemage
- Posts: 385
- Joined: Sun Jun 05, 2005 9:23 pm
- Name: Ryxa
- Race: Human
Fit
"Everything I touch, I break."
Re: Fit
Ryxa is approaching your office, judge Moryldar. She is in a hostile mood and has come alone. Zhou and the vampire are close.
The porter's unnervingly calm voice spoke in Moryldar's head, warning him of Ryxa's arrival so that when she did appear in his room he was not at all surprised to see her or her furious expression. The desk of his stark white room was covered in papers of all kinds, legal and otherwise. Beside him, closed when Ryxa arrived, was a single book with a one word title: Sanguinae.
A mechanical pen in his hand, Moryldar sat back to give Ryxa the room she needed to lean forward without being too close for comfort. Apparently taking no offense to her posturing and threatening tone, he let her vent and listened to what she had to say. The judge was not someone to show fear under such circumstances. Ryxa couldn't touch him, but this was not the only reason for his calm.
When she was finished he held eye contact with her and gave her time to listen to the silence. Finally, he looked at his desk and slowly placed the pen down diagonally on a piece of paper on which he had apparently been writing with his flourished script. Once the pen was down he looked at her again for a good long second, letting her know that he was going to put up with her insolence by choice.
"The old one wanted it this way. I chose you because you are the only one who was able to capture Chrishton, and because he must die. That's all I'm going to tell you about why. If you are refusing his direct requests, I'll be sure to forward that to him." The old one was a clear reference to Belatucadrus.
He motioned with his hand to one of the two chairs behind Ryxa.
"You are not going to be alone, and you will not be working with Zhou. The porter will be sending for Von Trier the moment Jenica arrives."
The porter's unnervingly calm voice spoke in Moryldar's head, warning him of Ryxa's arrival so that when she did appear in his room he was not at all surprised to see her or her furious expression. The desk of his stark white room was covered in papers of all kinds, legal and otherwise. Beside him, closed when Ryxa arrived, was a single book with a one word title: Sanguinae.
A mechanical pen in his hand, Moryldar sat back to give Ryxa the room she needed to lean forward without being too close for comfort. Apparently taking no offense to her posturing and threatening tone, he let her vent and listened to what she had to say. The judge was not someone to show fear under such circumstances. Ryxa couldn't touch him, but this was not the only reason for his calm.
When she was finished he held eye contact with her and gave her time to listen to the silence. Finally, he looked at his desk and slowly placed the pen down diagonally on a piece of paper on which he had apparently been writing with his flourished script. Once the pen was down he looked at her again for a good long second, letting her know that he was going to put up with her insolence by choice.
"The old one wanted it this way. I chose you because you are the only one who was able to capture Chrishton, and because he must die. That's all I'm going to tell you about why. If you are refusing his direct requests, I'll be sure to forward that to him." The old one was a clear reference to Belatucadrus.
He motioned with his hand to one of the two chairs behind Ryxa.
"You are not going to be alone, and you will not be working with Zhou. The porter will be sending for Von Trier the moment Jenica arrives."
Let the tomes be your guide.
Re: Fit
Nichatus sat in a hard backed chair in the room that some jokingly called his home. It was probably said because his perfect sitting posture mirrored the rigid straightness of all the furniture in the room so effectively. The shelves of books, the books themselves brimming with arcane knowledge, and Nichatus all seemed constructed only to serve a purpose in that moment.
The unadorned, black leather bound book that sat open in front of the battlemage was one he had read many times before, Ellusas Do Ruenen. A gloveless hand raised from its place on his lap and flipped a few of the dry pages, and stopped on one baring an image of several symbols; A large and intricate glyph, identical to the one drawn on the red leather gloves by the book, surrounded by smaller depictions of the runes that were combined to make the glyph.
A familiar voice found its way into Nic's mind, and his hand froze in the middle of turning a page. "She draws near," the porter stated simply. The man had been told he would be summoned upon the vampire's arrival, and had asked for some prior warning so that he might be better prepared. He paused after the magical entity spoke, then stood, arriving at a decision.
He almost told the porter that he would wait near Moryldar's office, but stopped himself before committing the foolish act. The porter would know where to find him.
A bare hand slid along the cold stone walls of The Hall as Nichatus neared the place he would lie in wait. He stopped, slid on his gloves, and leaned back against the wall behind him. He was not close enough to the room to hear Ryxa's shouts, even if he had arrived before she was finished, but he was close enough to make contact with the minds inside.
His "tendrils" felt around inside Moryldar's office, and immediately withdrew from their first contact. All he had needed was a sense of the minds thought patterns to know he had found the old judge, one of the few minds he dared not enter, despite having the ability to do so. He mentally marked the man's position and continued to search the room, quickly finding the female.
He only searched the shallow waters of her mind, not wanting to test his boundaries with that one. She was angry, but that emotion abated some as she registered words spoken by Judge Moryldar. A slight smile crossed the battlemage's face; this might prove to be a fun conversation to view, even if only from one side.
The unadorned, black leather bound book that sat open in front of the battlemage was one he had read many times before, Ellusas Do Ruenen. A gloveless hand raised from its place on his lap and flipped a few of the dry pages, and stopped on one baring an image of several symbols; A large and intricate glyph, identical to the one drawn on the red leather gloves by the book, surrounded by smaller depictions of the runes that were combined to make the glyph.
A familiar voice found its way into Nic's mind, and his hand froze in the middle of turning a page. "She draws near," the porter stated simply. The man had been told he would be summoned upon the vampire's arrival, and had asked for some prior warning so that he might be better prepared. He paused after the magical entity spoke, then stood, arriving at a decision.
He almost told the porter that he would wait near Moryldar's office, but stopped himself before committing the foolish act. The porter would know where to find him.
A bare hand slid along the cold stone walls of The Hall as Nichatus neared the place he would lie in wait. He stopped, slid on his gloves, and leaned back against the wall behind him. He was not close enough to the room to hear Ryxa's shouts, even if he had arrived before she was finished, but he was close enough to make contact with the minds inside.
His "tendrils" felt around inside Moryldar's office, and immediately withdrew from their first contact. All he had needed was a sense of the minds thought patterns to know he had found the old judge, one of the few minds he dared not enter, despite having the ability to do so. He mentally marked the man's position and continued to search the room, quickly finding the female.
He only searched the shallow waters of her mind, not wanting to test his boundaries with that one. She was angry, but that emotion abated some as she registered words spoken by Judge Moryldar. A slight smile crossed the battlemage's face; this might prove to be a fun conversation to view, even if only from one side.
"I'm already corrupt, might as well live it up." -Battlemage Berne Merynir
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Blood Ravenous
- Battlemage
- Posts: 385
- Joined: Sun Jun 05, 2005 9:23 pm
- Name: Ryxa
- Race: Human
Re: Fit
By the time he finished talking, Ryxa's posture was noticeably more relaxed, and her eyes had lost their hard gleam. 'The old one' struck her mind like a hammer. That was unexpected. She knew who he was talking about, without the name. The person who ran everything from the shadows. Rarely was he mentioned, but he was behind it all, Ryxa knew. Or at least as far as a vampire could care, she surmised.The old one wanted it this way. I chose you because you are the only one who was able to capture Chrishton, and because he must die. That's all I'm going to tell you about why. If you are refusing his direct requests, I'll be sure to forward that to him.
Her mouth twisted in displeasure when she realized maybe there was no way out of this one. Unless she wanted to confront Belatucadrus. I don't have the power for that right now... she thought, and straightened her back.
As the Judge motioned to a chair, she obediently sat in it, crossing her arms with a huff to show she was still displeased. Though, it was tempting in itself to be given the chance to see that defiant light go out of Chrishton's eyes. Yes, maybe this wasn't so bad after all... And a piece of this new scheme she was involved in fell into place.
Her eye twitched when she heard the name. "Von Trier?" she grumbled, frowning further. That begging little puppy that pees on the carpet in excitement when a judge looks his way? "Do I really need anyone else with me?" she said, her voice strained with the flood-waters of her anger, mixed with defiance at who she was requested to work with. Her gritted teeth showed in a snarl. "If I have to, I'd rather work alone."
"Everything I touch, I break."
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Jenica Sabiny
- Citizen
- Posts: 768
- Joined: Sun Feb 05, 2006 2:29 am
- Race: Vampire
Re: Fit
While the female sped along the road at full gallop, the vampire and male moved along as a slower pace behind. Jenica trailed the second horse just enough so that the horse and rider led her way. The moment the large stone building came into sight she slowed herself further, just barely trailing behind and looking about the area with a blank expression. The quiet male dismounted and waited for her to come close enough, then led the way inside of the building. Once inside, she did not actually need his guidance any longer - she could follow the female's scent easily enough.
They had let her in immediately, keeping something of a distance from her - which meant they at lease knew what she was. It wasn't surprising. She did not try to hide her species, she simply did not broadcast it.
She moved at a leisurely pace, raising her eyes to look over the bare hallways which encased her. There was something oddly oppressive within the walls, and she shuttered her eyes as she moved ever deeper inside of the building. She did not fear being attacked; she hoped something interesting would happen to distract her from the monotony of daily life. If nothing else, this was the most exciting thing which had happened to her since being pinned in the road by the human female...
The vampire's hand dropped to the hilt of the woman's sword, belted around her waist. Her gaze remained blank, though she took internal amusement from the sensation. She vaguely remembered that the female had felt a connection to this weapon; being stripped of it would hurt her, in some ways worse than physical damage. There was a certain irony there, but the vampire dismissed these thoughts to refocus on her steps.
She froze in her pacing when she saw the man standing in the hallway. The female's scent was strongest in this area, and the vampire could hear rumblings from beyond the door as the female tried to assert dominance over yet another male. The vampire, however, focused on the man standing outside the room.
She tilted her head as she regarded his back, a slight red tinge seeping into her irises as her hands clawed. For one moment, she considered ending his life for the sole purpose of doing it.
The moment passed, and her hands dropped to their more relaxed droop as she merely gazed at him, waiting for him to turn and see her. She did nothing to indicate her own presence.
They had let her in immediately, keeping something of a distance from her - which meant they at lease knew what she was. It wasn't surprising. She did not try to hide her species, she simply did not broadcast it.
She moved at a leisurely pace, raising her eyes to look over the bare hallways which encased her. There was something oddly oppressive within the walls, and she shuttered her eyes as she moved ever deeper inside of the building. She did not fear being attacked; she hoped something interesting would happen to distract her from the monotony of daily life. If nothing else, this was the most exciting thing which had happened to her since being pinned in the road by the human female...
The vampire's hand dropped to the hilt of the woman's sword, belted around her waist. Her gaze remained blank, though she took internal amusement from the sensation. She vaguely remembered that the female had felt a connection to this weapon; being stripped of it would hurt her, in some ways worse than physical damage. There was a certain irony there, but the vampire dismissed these thoughts to refocus on her steps.
She froze in her pacing when she saw the man standing in the hallway. The female's scent was strongest in this area, and the vampire could hear rumblings from beyond the door as the female tried to assert dominance over yet another male. The vampire, however, focused on the man standing outside the room.
She tilted her head as she regarded his back, a slight red tinge seeping into her irises as her hands clawed. For one moment, she considered ending his life for the sole purpose of doing it.
The moment passed, and her hands dropped to their more relaxed droop as she merely gazed at him, waiting for him to turn and see her. She did nothing to indicate her own presence.
Fountain of blood in the shape of a girl.
Re: Fit
"Jenica has entered the building," the porter told him. Nichatus altered his position to one more comfortable and began searching the building for the unfamiliar mind. It didn't take long to find it, a mind so unlike a living human's that it practically called out to him.
Nichatus felt the connection with the female’s mind stronger than he’d felt the connection in a long time. It felt as though her mind was pulling at his the way she pulled at the lifeblood of her victims. He pulled away slightly, trying to keep from being plunged too deeply into the dark depths of her cranium, but words spoken by a familiar voice pulled him back in.
“I can cure your thirst and give you life.” A Tian Xian accent tainted the edge of the words, curling them slightly like a dry page held over a flame. Nichatus swooped in on the memory, craving to see the foolish devices Zhou Lei had used to lure the vampire in. “The one who created you left your veins full of cursed blood so that he can control you.” The foreign eyes and brown skinned face were now staring at Nichatus from the visual aspect of the memory. He curled his lip in a bit of disdain, the man didn’t seem to be trying to use any extremely foolish methods of coercion.
“Trick. Prove it.” The battlemage heard the vampire’s husky voice and felt it claw it’s way past his own vocal chords. A twitch of the eye was the only indication that he felt anything. “Drink it…and you will see.” The visual had shifted and he was now staring at a small vile held up to the moonlight. The vile was lowered to be opened and then the vision shifted again; this time, however, it did so in a harsh and jarring manner.
Now he could smell fresh dirt, and feel its moisture all around him. His mind was clouded with some strange hunger, a desire so strong it was purely and exquisitely maddening. He could feel the slight taint of fears faded away, a fear named claustrophobia, but it effected his mind none. This escape from sanity, the hunger that forced the hands of the creature’s mind to dig upward at such a frenzied pace, was haunting.
The memory plunged further back in time. He was still in the memory of the living burial, but now he was at a point before the desire had set in. Right now the fear and it’s personal friend madness were the rulers of the mind. Strange, unarrangable thoughts of home and singing mermaids bombarded him. He began to panic as his chest refused to pull in air.
Whether from the deranged nature of the mind’s owner or from Nic’s frenzy could not be decided, but the memories changed again. This time it wasn’t a memory, it was a current thought running through the consciousness of Jenica, a fantasy of unbridled horror. He was staring down at himself, a corpse with short black hair like Zhou’s visible out of the corner of the eye. A clawed hand gripped the lower part of his face, which appeared to be missing an eye, and the other was literally digging into his side in search of blood and vital organs. He could almost feel the muscles of Jenica’s lower body grinding her pelvis against his own body lewdly. He found something about the scene of carnage morbidly arousing, yet simultaneously sickening.
He saw his own hand reach up in a weak attempt at self-defense, but the hand perched on his jaw squeezed, cracking the bone underneath it. All protest on his part ended. His perspective moved, Jenica lowering her head in the fantasy. A slender tongue caressed the curve of his cheek, clearing a small trail of blood from that area, then the mouth snapped open and tore a chunk of flesh away from his face.
The vision shifted violently again. Some man moving toward Jenica with a hungry look in his eyes. Then it changed again. She seemed to be training to fight with an older man. Suddenly the man’s fist whipped out and slammed into Jenica’s face. She stared up from the ground as the man approached her and then started hitting her in the face with a large wooden staff. “I TOLD YOU TO…” the man’s shouting faded off as the memories moved again, shifting as if they were lava that was coming close to hardening. Now Jenica was standing over a lifeless corpse. A man with his cloths seemingly removed through force.
In another instant his vision swam. The thoughts and memories of the mind began to swirl and slam together at an extremely rapid pace. They moved so rapidly that he couldn’t grasp any detail of them. Voices assaulted his ears, some screaming and some whispering. A sea of faces and places unknown flashed before his eyes in blinding succession. Black and white, black and white. None of the previous visions had been in color, but with their relatively low speed of change it hadn’t bothered him. Now, however, the flurry of muted grays and stark whites stung his eyes.
He fought to release himself from the vampire’s mind, but couldn’t. He pushed away from her with all his mental might, but had no success whatsoever. Finally, the mental barrage ended. He opened his eyes, hoping to find himself standing in the hall once more, but no, he was somewhere else. A pitch black room with no light other than a small beam that fell upon a curled up naked child in the middle of the floor.
Nichatus tried to move, and realized that he was not reading Jenica’s mind. No, he was in control of the visions and movements of himself in this place. He looked down at his hands, and sure enough, he saw the red leather of his own gloves. The child in the middle of the floor whined as Nic began to panic. The bitch was turning his own power against him somehow. She was making him see what she wanted him to. A look of disdain crossed his face as the child whimpered again.
A surge of whispers kicked up from the shadows. “Who’s there?” He shouted into the lightless oblivion. “Show yourself or I’ll show you how much pain an illusion can cause.” Nothing. “Fine then. I’ll just find my way the hell out of this nightmare, and kill anyone I happen to run into.” He turned to walk away from the light, deeper into the darkness, and a whimpering voice stopped him.
“Please, don’t go.” A small girl’s voice begged from behind him. He turned around to find the girl and her light closer to him than before, disturbingly close. “Please, don’t leave me,” she whined as she reached up from her kneeling position and placed a grimy hand on his uppermost leg, “I’ll do anything if you’ll just stay with me.” The meaning of her words hit him, and he smacked her hand from his leg and took a hurried step back.
He could see her more clearly now. The girl couldn’t be more than six years old. Her nudity, he discovered, was not the most disturbing thing about her appearance, but the thick trail of blood that ran down her inner thigh from the fork in her legs.
She stood, making her wounding more evident, and walked to him, and as she did so the whispers from the shadows reached a fever pitch. “No,” she said as she wrapped her arm around his lower back and pulled her body tight against his. “I promise, I’ll make you real happy if you’ll stay with me.” The little girl slowly pushed her face against his side and slid her lower lip along his shirt meaningfully.
Nichatus pushed the child off of him and turned to leave, only to find her standing just as close on the other side. “Please,” she whined, attempting to move closer to him again. Nic backhanded the girl hard, sending her sprawling to the floor. He turned, again finding her on the other side.
This time she was on her knees again. She pressed her face against his thigh, hugging his leg, so that her nose was right in the most uncomfortable place of all. He backhanded her again, and turned. He ploughed straight into the waiting girl on the other side, trampling her underfoot. More and more of her popping up, and him batting her aside or simple running her down every time.
Nichatus hit something hard and fell to the floor. He held his eyes clinched closed until he felt a small trickling of blood below his nose. He opened his eyes. He was back in the Justice Hall, lying on the floor in the hallway he’d been inhabiting with a bloody nose from where he’d apparently ran smack dab into the wall opposite himelf. He wiped away the blood and glared angrily around the area, spotting the woman staring at him.
He knew in that instant that she was the owner of the mind he'd just invaded. The face was far to similar to that of the little girl for her not to be. He stood up, wiping at his nose some more, and stared at the vampire angrily. "Hello Jenica."
Nichatus felt the connection with the female’s mind stronger than he’d felt the connection in a long time. It felt as though her mind was pulling at his the way she pulled at the lifeblood of her victims. He pulled away slightly, trying to keep from being plunged too deeply into the dark depths of her cranium, but words spoken by a familiar voice pulled him back in.
“I can cure your thirst and give you life.” A Tian Xian accent tainted the edge of the words, curling them slightly like a dry page held over a flame. Nichatus swooped in on the memory, craving to see the foolish devices Zhou Lei had used to lure the vampire in. “The one who created you left your veins full of cursed blood so that he can control you.” The foreign eyes and brown skinned face were now staring at Nichatus from the visual aspect of the memory. He curled his lip in a bit of disdain, the man didn’t seem to be trying to use any extremely foolish methods of coercion.
“Trick. Prove it.” The battlemage heard the vampire’s husky voice and felt it claw it’s way past his own vocal chords. A twitch of the eye was the only indication that he felt anything. “Drink it…and you will see.” The visual had shifted and he was now staring at a small vile held up to the moonlight. The vile was lowered to be opened and then the vision shifted again; this time, however, it did so in a harsh and jarring manner.
Now he could smell fresh dirt, and feel its moisture all around him. His mind was clouded with some strange hunger, a desire so strong it was purely and exquisitely maddening. He could feel the slight taint of fears faded away, a fear named claustrophobia, but it effected his mind none. This escape from sanity, the hunger that forced the hands of the creature’s mind to dig upward at such a frenzied pace, was haunting.
The memory plunged further back in time. He was still in the memory of the living burial, but now he was at a point before the desire had set in. Right now the fear and it’s personal friend madness were the rulers of the mind. Strange, unarrangable thoughts of home and singing mermaids bombarded him. He began to panic as his chest refused to pull in air.
Whether from the deranged nature of the mind’s owner or from Nic’s frenzy could not be decided, but the memories changed again. This time it wasn’t a memory, it was a current thought running through the consciousness of Jenica, a fantasy of unbridled horror. He was staring down at himself, a corpse with short black hair like Zhou’s visible out of the corner of the eye. A clawed hand gripped the lower part of his face, which appeared to be missing an eye, and the other was literally digging into his side in search of blood and vital organs. He could almost feel the muscles of Jenica’s lower body grinding her pelvis against his own body lewdly. He found something about the scene of carnage morbidly arousing, yet simultaneously sickening.
He saw his own hand reach up in a weak attempt at self-defense, but the hand perched on his jaw squeezed, cracking the bone underneath it. All protest on his part ended. His perspective moved, Jenica lowering her head in the fantasy. A slender tongue caressed the curve of his cheek, clearing a small trail of blood from that area, then the mouth snapped open and tore a chunk of flesh away from his face.
The vision shifted violently again. Some man moving toward Jenica with a hungry look in his eyes. Then it changed again. She seemed to be training to fight with an older man. Suddenly the man’s fist whipped out and slammed into Jenica’s face. She stared up from the ground as the man approached her and then started hitting her in the face with a large wooden staff. “I TOLD YOU TO…” the man’s shouting faded off as the memories moved again, shifting as if they were lava that was coming close to hardening. Now Jenica was standing over a lifeless corpse. A man with his cloths seemingly removed through force.
In another instant his vision swam. The thoughts and memories of the mind began to swirl and slam together at an extremely rapid pace. They moved so rapidly that he couldn’t grasp any detail of them. Voices assaulted his ears, some screaming and some whispering. A sea of faces and places unknown flashed before his eyes in blinding succession. Black and white, black and white. None of the previous visions had been in color, but with their relatively low speed of change it hadn’t bothered him. Now, however, the flurry of muted grays and stark whites stung his eyes.
He fought to release himself from the vampire’s mind, but couldn’t. He pushed away from her with all his mental might, but had no success whatsoever. Finally, the mental barrage ended. He opened his eyes, hoping to find himself standing in the hall once more, but no, he was somewhere else. A pitch black room with no light other than a small beam that fell upon a curled up naked child in the middle of the floor.
Nichatus tried to move, and realized that he was not reading Jenica’s mind. No, he was in control of the visions and movements of himself in this place. He looked down at his hands, and sure enough, he saw the red leather of his own gloves. The child in the middle of the floor whined as Nic began to panic. The bitch was turning his own power against him somehow. She was making him see what she wanted him to. A look of disdain crossed his face as the child whimpered again.
A surge of whispers kicked up from the shadows. “Who’s there?” He shouted into the lightless oblivion. “Show yourself or I’ll show you how much pain an illusion can cause.” Nothing. “Fine then. I’ll just find my way the hell out of this nightmare, and kill anyone I happen to run into.” He turned to walk away from the light, deeper into the darkness, and a whimpering voice stopped him.
“Please, don’t go.” A small girl’s voice begged from behind him. He turned around to find the girl and her light closer to him than before, disturbingly close. “Please, don’t leave me,” she whined as she reached up from her kneeling position and placed a grimy hand on his uppermost leg, “I’ll do anything if you’ll just stay with me.” The meaning of her words hit him, and he smacked her hand from his leg and took a hurried step back.
He could see her more clearly now. The girl couldn’t be more than six years old. Her nudity, he discovered, was not the most disturbing thing about her appearance, but the thick trail of blood that ran down her inner thigh from the fork in her legs.
She stood, making her wounding more evident, and walked to him, and as she did so the whispers from the shadows reached a fever pitch. “No,” she said as she wrapped her arm around his lower back and pulled her body tight against his. “I promise, I’ll make you real happy if you’ll stay with me.” The little girl slowly pushed her face against his side and slid her lower lip along his shirt meaningfully.
Nichatus pushed the child off of him and turned to leave, only to find her standing just as close on the other side. “Please,” she whined, attempting to move closer to him again. Nic backhanded the girl hard, sending her sprawling to the floor. He turned, again finding her on the other side.
This time she was on her knees again. She pressed her face against his thigh, hugging his leg, so that her nose was right in the most uncomfortable place of all. He backhanded her again, and turned. He ploughed straight into the waiting girl on the other side, trampling her underfoot. More and more of her popping up, and him batting her aside or simple running her down every time.
Nichatus hit something hard and fell to the floor. He held his eyes clinched closed until he felt a small trickling of blood below his nose. He opened his eyes. He was back in the Justice Hall, lying on the floor in the hallway he’d been inhabiting with a bloody nose from where he’d apparently ran smack dab into the wall opposite himelf. He wiped away the blood and glared angrily around the area, spotting the woman staring at him.
He knew in that instant that she was the owner of the mind he'd just invaded. The face was far to similar to that of the little girl for her not to be. He stood up, wiping at his nose some more, and stared at the vampire angrily. "Hello Jenica."
"I'm already corrupt, might as well live it up." -Battlemage Berne Merynir
Re: Fit
"And you will be back to your solo operations once the man is dead. I doubt you want to try to do this assignment alone. If he isn't dead soon we will be accountable."
He locked his old, glassy eyes on hers in all seriousness. His career was on the line at the very least.
"I have been doing some research on the finer points of their... Species. She may act moonstruck but I don't believe her mind is gone. What she needs is someone like Von Trier to correct her thinking. His ability to..." the Judge kept pausing to choose the politically acceptable word, putting on a show for Ryxa or his own amusement, "enlighten the confused will be indispensable. Perhaps some of his loyalty will rub off on you."
And Von Trier would find out more about Jenica than her father was willing to divulge. Moryldar needed to know all he could about her, what she meant to Bela, and why a man of exquisite taste and nobility would let such vermin live in his city.
"Do you know the scryers cry when I tell them to find her? They wail like lost babies. Don't be mistaken Ryxa. This job is of more consequence than the last hundred..."
They await outside your office. The porter spoke to both Moryldar and Ryxa, simultaneously casting the same message with the relevant word 'your' replaced with 'Moryldar's' for her benefit.
The judge watched the door and folded his arms on top of his desk to wait. He eagerly awaited the opportunity to see Jenica in person. Something about the wavering two-dimensional images the scryers could project into a pool of mercury were never personal enough.
* * *
Zhou escorted Jenica into Justice Hall, but her dilatory pace meant that he was hardly leading her around. Indeed, she took the lead and somehow could find her own way around the magically restrictive building toward Moryldar's office. In an uncharacteristically craven move, he didn't have the nerve stop her.
He stood behind her when Nichatus snapped out of his dream and stood up, wiping blood from his nose. Zhou was not a personable man, but sometimes his complete lack of regard for others was a blessing. He didn't even acknowledge the compromising position Nichatus was in. His attention was on Jenica until the moment Von Trier spoke, at which point he exchanged a glance that could mean a million words with the man, turned, and walked away.
Zhou knew Von Trier too well. There was no point in putting on a show of bravado for a man who could look into your head. Zhou's solution to dealing with him was always to hide.
He locked his old, glassy eyes on hers in all seriousness. His career was on the line at the very least.
"I have been doing some research on the finer points of their... Species. She may act moonstruck but I don't believe her mind is gone. What she needs is someone like Von Trier to correct her thinking. His ability to..." the Judge kept pausing to choose the politically acceptable word, putting on a show for Ryxa or his own amusement, "enlighten the confused will be indispensable. Perhaps some of his loyalty will rub off on you."
And Von Trier would find out more about Jenica than her father was willing to divulge. Moryldar needed to know all he could about her, what she meant to Bela, and why a man of exquisite taste and nobility would let such vermin live in his city.
"Do you know the scryers cry when I tell them to find her? They wail like lost babies. Don't be mistaken Ryxa. This job is of more consequence than the last hundred..."
They await outside your office. The porter spoke to both Moryldar and Ryxa, simultaneously casting the same message with the relevant word 'your' replaced with 'Moryldar's' for her benefit.
The judge watched the door and folded his arms on top of his desk to wait. He eagerly awaited the opportunity to see Jenica in person. Something about the wavering two-dimensional images the scryers could project into a pool of mercury were never personal enough.
* * *
Zhou escorted Jenica into Justice Hall, but her dilatory pace meant that he was hardly leading her around. Indeed, she took the lead and somehow could find her own way around the magically restrictive building toward Moryldar's office. In an uncharacteristically craven move, he didn't have the nerve stop her.
He stood behind her when Nichatus snapped out of his dream and stood up, wiping blood from his nose. Zhou was not a personable man, but sometimes his complete lack of regard for others was a blessing. He didn't even acknowledge the compromising position Nichatus was in. His attention was on Jenica until the moment Von Trier spoke, at which point he exchanged a glance that could mean a million words with the man, turned, and walked away.
Zhou knew Von Trier too well. There was no point in putting on a show of bravado for a man who could look into your head. Zhou's solution to dealing with him was always to hide.
Let the tomes be your guide.
-
Blood Ravenous
- Battlemage
- Posts: 385
- Joined: Sun Jun 05, 2005 9:23 pm
- Name: Ryxa
- Race: Human
Re: Fit
"Very funny," Ryxa mumbled under her breath.Moryldar wrote:"And you will be back to your solo operations once the man is dead. I doubt you want to try to do this assignment alone. If he isn't dead soon we will be accountable.
"I have been doing some research on the finer points of their... Species. She may act moonstruck but I don't believe her mind is gone. What she needs is someone like Von Trier to correct her thinking. His ability to... enlighten the confused will be indispensable. Perhaps some of his loyalty will rub off on you."
The woman snorted derisively."Do you know the scryers cry when I tell them to find her? They wail like lost babies."
"Well then, I guess I can't complain then, can I?" she said, sounding a bit sarcastic and unconvinced. But really, she was. She was being given a chance to kill Chrishton, not just capture him or torture him."Don't be mistaken Ryxa. This job is of more consequence than the last hundred..."
Despite her job, the chance to kill people was rare; most of the time, they just died on their own, thinking her illusion had been real. Kill that brutish, strong will... Her arms unfolded and she put her elbows on the arms of the chair, steepling her fingers below her chin. Grind it into the dust and make it disappear forever...Kill the only person who holds the memory of manhandling me. Her face became more and more sinister as her thoughts twisted darker and darker, and an evil grin spread across her face. It was not a pretty sight.
That's when she heard a thump and, a moment later, a muffled voice that came through the open doorway barely strong enough to be heard. "Hello Jenica." It was a man, Ryxa noted.
They await outside Moryldar's office. Ryxa realized the expression on her face had left to be replaced by surprise, which she covered with a frown at being talked to by the Porter. She hated when he did that.
None-too-eagerly she twisted in her chair to look at the doorway, an arm draped leisurely on the back of the chair. Her body was relaxed, but her eyes glittered like black gems, and just as hard. The anger from before was still there, but it was difficult to spot on her straight face. Yet, somehow, she did not appear friendly or inviting.
"Everything I touch, I break."
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Jenica Sabiny
- Citizen
- Posts: 768
- Joined: Sun Feb 05, 2006 2:29 am
- Race: Vampire
Re: Fit
He seemed distressed. The vampire tilted her head as she watched him shift and twitch, flaring her nostrils as she sniffed in his direction for signs of disease. She smelled nothing, and so waited, watching in mute curiosity.
The red in her eyes steadily increased and she lowered her eyelids against the glow. Her normal visions of pain and mutilation began to swell and writhe, and she found herself starting to move forward to grasp the man from behind, images of his own death already flashing through her mind to grant her guidance. She could grab him now, while he remained locked in whatever odd seizure he might be having, and press him against the wall. Her teeth sunk into his throat as the fluid washed through, lending her body another length of time to live. Rip and tear - pull the muscles from her path to get straight into the vein, as a hand dipped down, past the armour, to pull him free, while the shadows lashed to keep him still...
She bared her teeth in a grimace, squinting her eyes nearly closed, and gave her head one powerful shake. The fantasy fled with the motion, and she was back within the hallway to stare at the male as he had his fit.
He slammed himself into the opposite wall and collapsed. She listened for weakness to show, some sign that he had become merely a corpse with this action, but he stood and glared at her instead. She snorted out in disappointment.
The greeting was met with the same blank stare she normally wore, though she did at least tilt her head in the other direction. Knowing her name did not surprise or jar her, though hearing it used did take several moments for her to realize he was addressing her. Her eyes lowered while her brain worked this out to the blood smeared underneath his nose and against his hand. Her nostrils flared again as she sniffed, and the red tint remained as strong as before.
Her mind clicked into place and a smile leered over her features. She realized that what she'd just seen was hilarious.
"Graceful."
Her voice cracked beyond her vocal chords as she stepped closer, eyes fixed on the blood dribbling from his nose. The fantasy from before rose in her mind as she advanced without further thought, and another moment she had his shoulders in her hands, pressing him back against the wall as her face dipped in to swipe her tongue just underneath his nostrils, where the blood pooled in a small puddle before sliding lower. Her tongue spread wide, enough to slither over his top lip, and one hand dropped from his shoulder to his groin. Though still somewhat armoured, the material was soft enough that he could certainly feel the pressure building as she pressed her own body forward to keep him braced against the wall behind him.
She moved her head back just enough to meet his gaze, her eyes glistening crimson deeply enough to glitter queerly against the lights of the hallway. Her lips remained drawn back enough for her fangs to show, elongated and slightly stained with his blood.
"Tastes wonderful, lover."
Another swipe of her tongue, as the hand between his legs applied more pressure, the fingers curling inward in a vague attempt to squeeze what lie beneath.
"Like poison."
The red in her eyes steadily increased and she lowered her eyelids against the glow. Her normal visions of pain and mutilation began to swell and writhe, and she found herself starting to move forward to grasp the man from behind, images of his own death already flashing through her mind to grant her guidance. She could grab him now, while he remained locked in whatever odd seizure he might be having, and press him against the wall. Her teeth sunk into his throat as the fluid washed through, lending her body another length of time to live. Rip and tear - pull the muscles from her path to get straight into the vein, as a hand dipped down, past the armour, to pull him free, while the shadows lashed to keep him still...
She bared her teeth in a grimace, squinting her eyes nearly closed, and gave her head one powerful shake. The fantasy fled with the motion, and she was back within the hallway to stare at the male as he had his fit.
He slammed himself into the opposite wall and collapsed. She listened for weakness to show, some sign that he had become merely a corpse with this action, but he stood and glared at her instead. She snorted out in disappointment.
The greeting was met with the same blank stare she normally wore, though she did at least tilt her head in the other direction. Knowing her name did not surprise or jar her, though hearing it used did take several moments for her to realize he was addressing her. Her eyes lowered while her brain worked this out to the blood smeared underneath his nose and against his hand. Her nostrils flared again as she sniffed, and the red tint remained as strong as before.
Her mind clicked into place and a smile leered over her features. She realized that what she'd just seen was hilarious.
"Graceful."
Her voice cracked beyond her vocal chords as she stepped closer, eyes fixed on the blood dribbling from his nose. The fantasy from before rose in her mind as she advanced without further thought, and another moment she had his shoulders in her hands, pressing him back against the wall as her face dipped in to swipe her tongue just underneath his nostrils, where the blood pooled in a small puddle before sliding lower. Her tongue spread wide, enough to slither over his top lip, and one hand dropped from his shoulder to his groin. Though still somewhat armoured, the material was soft enough that he could certainly feel the pressure building as she pressed her own body forward to keep him braced against the wall behind him.
She moved her head back just enough to meet his gaze, her eyes glistening crimson deeply enough to glitter queerly against the lights of the hallway. Her lips remained drawn back enough for her fangs to show, elongated and slightly stained with his blood.
"Tastes wonderful, lover."
Another swipe of her tongue, as the hand between his legs applied more pressure, the fingers curling inward in a vague attempt to squeeze what lie beneath.
"Like poison."
Fountain of blood in the shape of a girl.
Re: Fit
Nichatus snorted self deprecatingly at the vampire's comment. It probably had looked quite foolish, him slamming face first into a wall with no apparent reason. That would warrant some strict "meditation" later; he'd let himself lose control and got so deeply entrenched that he didn't realize he was moving his physical self as well as his mental. He started to retort, but he pulled up short as the vampire began to move towards him with an odd look about her.
A short rush off air pushed out of his lungs and through his mouth as his back hit the wall. She'd pinned him in a single movement, too fast for him to combat. His upper lip twitched as the dehydrated feeling tongue slid across it.
He leered at her with the stony face of anger despite the quickening of his heart. The face was more for his own peace of mind, wanting to convince himself that she wasn't causing his blood to burn in his veins. Doing so for any other reason would have been made ludicrous, both by the woman's nature and the spot-on aim of that clasping hand.
As she began to go at the blood along his lip again he parted his mouth a little and let his tongue graze the soft underside of hers. With a grunt and a roll of the eyes he realized what he was doing. More meditation would be in order.
"And you taste like death my sweet," he said as his gloved hands slid slowly up the outside of her thighs. Once they reached her waist he went wholly against his previous actions and shoved at her, trying to get the beast off of him.
A short rush off air pushed out of his lungs and through his mouth as his back hit the wall. She'd pinned him in a single movement, too fast for him to combat. His upper lip twitched as the dehydrated feeling tongue slid across it.
He leered at her with the stony face of anger despite the quickening of his heart. The face was more for his own peace of mind, wanting to convince himself that she wasn't causing his blood to burn in his veins. Doing so for any other reason would have been made ludicrous, both by the woman's nature and the spot-on aim of that clasping hand.
As she began to go at the blood along his lip again he parted his mouth a little and let his tongue graze the soft underside of hers. With a grunt and a roll of the eyes he realized what he was doing. More meditation would be in order.
"And you taste like death my sweet," he said as his gloved hands slid slowly up the outside of her thighs. Once they reached her waist he went wholly against his previous actions and shoved at her, trying to get the beast off of him.
"I'm already corrupt, might as well live it up." -Battlemage Berne Merynir
Re: Fit
The sound of Nichatus hitting the wall did not even come close to making it through the thick stone. It was like hitting a foot of marble with a leg of ham - Moryldar certainly didn't hear it on the other side. In his old age, dwindling hearing made it similarly hard for him to hear ordinary voices right outside his door. He could tell that someone was talking, but not what they were saying or who it was. The porter's warning was the only way he knew.
He kept glassy eyes on Ryxa knowingly. She could probably hear what they were saying, maybe even see their shadows on the floor.
The gleam in her eyes was pleasing to him. He recognized it well, and Chrishton had a way of making others hate him. He decided not to tell her that there was little chance of her laying a hand on him. Jenica would rip him to pieces first.
He kept glassy eyes on Ryxa knowingly. She could probably hear what they were saying, maybe even see their shadows on the floor.
The gleam in her eyes was pleasing to him. He recognized it well, and Chrishton had a way of making others hate him. He decided not to tell her that there was little chance of her laying a hand on him. Jenica would rip him to pieces first.
Let the tomes be your guide.
-
Jenica Sabiny
- Citizen
- Posts: 768
- Joined: Sun Feb 05, 2006 2:29 am
- Race: Vampire
Re: Fit
The leer and comment went unnoticed in the face of his heart's faster pace and his tongue's caress. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, this male wanted more from the body pressed against him. This was a game the vampire knew well enough.
Her hand slid lower to cup his groin, and the fingers and palms began pressing together. The armour was a damned nuisance and she resented its presence. Her gaze dropped to his shoulders where it rested, and she began a steady calculation of how long it might take to tear it off. She didn't think forever, but the stuff was sturdy enough that the sword at her side might come to use as she yanked and pulled until skin laid bare before her.
She didn't need the entire body bared.
With her legs braced as she pressed forward, his shove was enough to push her momentum back a moment, a disjointed pendulum that settled for middle ground with a lazy, amused grin. It was more interesting when they fought; the entertainment could last ages. And he was halfway primed where he stood.
Her hand hadn't moved before; now the grip tightened and jerked with purpose, a failed attempt to pull away the material barring her path. Her other hand settled on his shoulder, and she moved forward to swipe her tongue along his cheek. Again she kept the muscle wide and unfocused, a slathering motion that left no moisture behind. She spoke with her lips brushing his cheek.
"Harder."
Her hand slid lower to cup his groin, and the fingers and palms began pressing together. The armour was a damned nuisance and she resented its presence. Her gaze dropped to his shoulders where it rested, and she began a steady calculation of how long it might take to tear it off. She didn't think forever, but the stuff was sturdy enough that the sword at her side might come to use as she yanked and pulled until skin laid bare before her.
She didn't need the entire body bared.
With her legs braced as she pressed forward, his shove was enough to push her momentum back a moment, a disjointed pendulum that settled for middle ground with a lazy, amused grin. It was more interesting when they fought; the entertainment could last ages. And he was halfway primed where he stood.
Her hand hadn't moved before; now the grip tightened and jerked with purpose, a failed attempt to pull away the material barring her path. Her other hand settled on his shoulder, and she moved forward to swipe her tongue along his cheek. Again she kept the muscle wide and unfocused, a slathering motion that left no moisture behind. She spoke with her lips brushing his cheek.
"Harder."
Fountain of blood in the shape of a girl.
Re: Fit
Nic groaned a little as his shove barely impeded Jenica at all. He knew it probably wouldn't have actually moved a creature like her, but he thought she might at least snap out of this...blood lust. He prayed his thanks to whatever deities might be watching over him for the armor, despite the fact that the direction of her focus told him it may not be there to protect him much longer.
She pushed in again, eliciting a grunt from Nic as the elbows of his still extended arms pressed hard against the marble wall behind him. Her tongue slowly slid across his cheek, and she spoke, the soft flesh of her lips against the skin she'd just sanitized.
A light kiss and then he shoved again, harder this time, and whispered to her. "They'll be expecting us Jenica. No need to get carried away with what we could save for later." He pulled his head back again so he could see her face, wanting the ability to judge her reaction, should she give one.
She pushed in again, eliciting a grunt from Nic as the elbows of his still extended arms pressed hard against the marble wall behind him. Her tongue slowly slid across his cheek, and she spoke, the soft flesh of her lips against the skin she'd just sanitized.
For a brief moment he wondered how well she could feel through the treated leather bodysuit, but that quickly faded from his mind. His hands slid further up her side until they rested on her ribs, mere inches below her breasts. He twisted his neck and lowered his head so that his mouth was near Jenica's neck, and making it mildly more difficult for her to get at his."Harder."
A light kiss and then he shoved again, harder this time, and whispered to her. "They'll be expecting us Jenica. No need to get carried away with what we could save for later." He pulled his head back again so he could see her face, wanting the ability to judge her reaction, should she give one.
"I'm already corrupt, might as well live it up." -Battlemage Berne Merynir
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Jenica Sabiny
- Citizen
- Posts: 768
- Joined: Sun Feb 05, 2006 2:29 am
- Race: Vampire
Re: Fit
They? Who was they? His words generated a pause filled with stark confusion as she creased her brow, trying to think of who he might be speaking of and why she might care about them.
Some human thing, it whispered from her belly. The voice was alternately vicious and gentle, combined with the other whispers which flowed about her thoughts with the consistency that the human's heartbeat would have in his own body. The presence was always present and clawing, desperate to come free of its barrier represented in her own desire to lengthen any human encounter for the sole purpose of her amusement. The shadows spoke as well, whispering their own desires to writhe and play. But it was not the shadows speaking to her now.
Ignore it.
His shove had been enough to push her back and see his face. The lips continued moving. Something about later. Another human thing. Later was much too far away, and she was hungry now.
The hand on his shoulder lifted and swerved, the wrist twisting and the fingers pressing together to form a firm barrier which she clamped over his mouth. She bared her teeth as she snarled and shoved his head back into the wall. She shifted forward, her jaw stretching as she twisted his head to the side to bare the throat. The hunger roiled in anticipation of the upcoming meal.
Some human thing, it whispered from her belly. The voice was alternately vicious and gentle, combined with the other whispers which flowed about her thoughts with the consistency that the human's heartbeat would have in his own body. The presence was always present and clawing, desperate to come free of its barrier represented in her own desire to lengthen any human encounter for the sole purpose of her amusement. The shadows spoke as well, whispering their own desires to writhe and play. But it was not the shadows speaking to her now.
Ignore it.
His shove had been enough to push her back and see his face. The lips continued moving. Something about later. Another human thing. Later was much too far away, and she was hungry now.
The hand on his shoulder lifted and swerved, the wrist twisting and the fingers pressing together to form a firm barrier which she clamped over his mouth. She bared her teeth as she snarled and shoved his head back into the wall. She shifted forward, her jaw stretching as she twisted his head to the side to bare the throat. The hunger roiled in anticipation of the upcoming meal.
Fountain of blood in the shape of a girl.
Re: Fit
The force behind his arms succeeded in moving her a bit this time. He could see her face now, as his words wormed their way through her brain. A mixture of confusion and some type of anger glinted in her eyes and pulled at the musculature of her face. Her eyes narrowed after a second, her mind forming a decision.
It proved to be one that was none too beneficial for him. His nose flared a bit in outraged shock as she clamped the cool skin of her hand over over his mouth. Then stars and a flash of white danced his brain as his skull struck the stone behind him hard. A weak grunt.
When his eyes readjusted they immediately shot open in fear. Those fangs pushing forward after his neck, a look of pure hunger in those eyes. In a fit of panic he unleashed.
The images, sounds, tastes, sensations, and smells of Jenica's burial poured out of his mind. He could sense them all, like before, but much weaker this time. He could still see and feel the real world through them, but that was because he wasn't viewing them this time. No, this time he was pumping them back into the vampire's mind, forcing her to relive the memories in their every detail.
Then, on top of that, he added a slightly opaque image of the hungry man from her dreams. The one that he'd seen approaching her with the gleam of lust in his eyes. He then added in the screams of every one of her mentors that he could remember finding within her memory. He tried his damndest to present, for her viewing pleasure, a truly horrible cocktail of her past.
It proved to be one that was none too beneficial for him. His nose flared a bit in outraged shock as she clamped the cool skin of her hand over over his mouth. Then stars and a flash of white danced his brain as his skull struck the stone behind him hard. A weak grunt.
When his eyes readjusted they immediately shot open in fear. Those fangs pushing forward after his neck, a look of pure hunger in those eyes. In a fit of panic he unleashed.
The images, sounds, tastes, sensations, and smells of Jenica's burial poured out of his mind. He could sense them all, like before, but much weaker this time. He could still see and feel the real world through them, but that was because he wasn't viewing them this time. No, this time he was pumping them back into the vampire's mind, forcing her to relive the memories in their every detail.
Then, on top of that, he added a slightly opaque image of the hungry man from her dreams. The one that he'd seen approaching her with the gleam of lust in his eyes. He then added in the screams of every one of her mentors that he could remember finding within her memory. He tried his damndest to present, for her viewing pleasure, a truly horrible cocktail of her past.
"I'm already corrupt, might as well live it up." -Battlemage Berne Merynir