- Apr 26, 2010
- 3,407
Darkness loomed over the Blood Bastion as the majority of is occupants prepared for the voyage. From the tower, Count Bloodfang swept his eyes across the assembled forces. The entirety of the household knights, bar only the newest and least experienced and a handful of mentors to teach them in his absence, stood proudly, bedecked in gleaming crimson armour and bearing the insignia of the Bloodfang family: the symbol of a great, slavering jaw, dripping with spilt blood. Already some of them began moving off towards the small fleet, their boots crunching across the shingles as they marched the short distance to their ships, the steeds having been taken already. The fleet was compact, but strong. Kraskor only hoped it would be enough.
A sinister, hissing sound emerged from behind the Count. Without turning, Kraskor spoke:
"Do not worry. We will be on our way soon. The fleet leaves within the hour," prompting a satisfied purr from the hidden voice. The Count had only a few matters to attend to now, and turned back into the tower, descending the stairs to the dungeon, where the elite were gathered. He had almost reached the chamber, when a trumpeting fanfare sounded from the castle gate. Irritated, Count Bloodfang hurried up the steps, fingering the Blood Ring as he did so.
A small coterie of warriors had entered the courtyard, headed by the trumpeters who had annoyed the Count so. Snarling at the intrusion, Kraskor was about to hurl his sword at the men before they bowed low. The small group of warriors stood aside, revealing a proud man who strode towards the Count. He was clad in leather armour, coloured both black and red, his left arm encased in plate armour and bearing two wicked-looking blades.
Count Azazrel approached Kraskor Bloodfang, bowing before offering his support in the endeavour to Naggarond. Bloodfang nodded curtly, before gesturing for him to follow Kraskor back into the castle and down towards the dungeon.
"I hope you do not mind, Count," said Bloodfang, "But I do hate trumpeters. Well, living ones anyway. You will not be needing your escort." Simultaneously, the men above were silently killed by the Skeletal Guard, Bloodfang's elite grave guard. [Respond to this how you will: you can either not care at all, or just acknowledge it and move on; they're only humans after all, and music players at that. Not much help in the Land of Chill. You may also speak to Kraskor, but he will reply abruptly and simply. You have a measure of control here.]
As the two Counts descended the stairs, a shadow swept out. Startled, Kraskor drew the Bloodfang, before the dark-leather clad figure bowed. Dietrich Mueller explained that he would not enter a prison room quite as willingly as the others until he saw Kraskor himself enter. Laughing, Count Bloodfang slapped the man's back, pushing the door open and entering the chamber.
In the centre was bound Raksha Ripclaw, held in place by chains. Behind him stood Draza Afanovich, watching his prize vigilantly. Around the room stood the rest of the assembled group. It was a small chamber, with a low ceiling, bare stone walls, but a strong oaken door with large bolts which could be pulled across from the outside, and a small viewing slit which could also be shut. Ripclaw was held in place by chains from his arms and legs to the walls of the chamber, where they were attached by sturdy metal rings. Finally, a small fire burnt in a grate built into the ceiling of the chamber; laced with sorcerous incense, the fire prevented the use of magic inside the chamber. It was the perfect prison, but certainly agitated Cedrick Hyrden as Frank turned a little poorly due to the balefire.
Count Bloodfang slammed the door shut behind him as the final members entered the chamber. Much to everyone's alarm, he drew the Bloodfang, slashing it downwards. The powerful chains binding Ripclaw fell away, the blade making short work of them. Draza seemed worried, but remained still when the freed vampire made no aggressive movement.
"You," spoke Kraskor, to the assembled vampires, "Are my personal vanguard. You have all come here to partake in a dangerous mission, which may see many of you fully dead." Bloodfang eyed each vampire one by one, looking for weakness. He found none.
"You may already have your reasons for accompanying me in this venture. Some of you, however," spoke Kraskor, eyeing Ripclaw in particular, "Do not. Yet." Kraskor grinned, turning back to the group.
"There is a prize beyond all imagining in the Land of Chill. Deep within Naggaroth, there is something we can only dream of acquiring. For the Blood Dragons," said Kraskor, eyeing Sir Gavin, Dietrich Mueller, and his eyes also temporarily lingering upon Mal'caor and Draza, "We will find the ultimate prize, something so... wonderful that we will never be the same again."
"For Ripclaw, the blessed power of utter self-control, and power also. Power which will no doubt appeal to Cedrick also." Kraskor turned to the remaining vampires: the von Carsteins.
"And as for you all," said Kraskor, "A gift beyond imagination."
Kraskor pulled back the door, and marched swiftly up the stairs. His voice echoed back down the stunned vampires:
"We leave today! Ready yourselves! Follow me to glory!"
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All: Even if you have not been addressed individually (and even then, this applies to you) there was plenty in that little speech to think about. There is also each other! You can speak to one another before Count Bloodfang arrives with Count Azazrel and Draza, and also remark on their appearance, as well as the other vampires in there already. Also, you have a chained-up Strigoi in the middle of you; surely that must mean something? I want feelings, thoughts, and then afterwards any action towards the stairs, following Bloodfang into the courtyard and towards the fleet, speak to him if you want.
Raksha Ripclaw: You have been captured previously, and have awaited the Count for two days now. The other vampires entered about fifteen minutes before the Count and the two other arrivals. You can see them as they enter; an interesting position. You can show your thoughts about each if you want, or just ignore them. However, please when you are freed, no sudden killing. Something in Bloodfang's speech appeals to you, whether it is the control you desperately seek, or, if you don't mind the blood-rages, more power to unleash once you enter the rage. Either way, something compels you to aid him.
Von Carsteins: You are all intrigued by what Bloodfang says to you specifically. You can also note what he says to others to appeal to them, but give you main focus to what he says to you. It is very mysterious, and has sent your imaginations into a spin; what could it be? It would be nice to see you all imagining different possibilities, and of course, wondering what it is that Bloodfang seeks so desperately.
Blood Dragons: Something so wonderful... ultimate. These words spiral through your heads. What could it be that demands such reverence from Count Bloodfang? Your thoughts, please.
Cedrick Hyrden: Power? Sounds good? And spoken with such reverence, it must be something big. Perhaps imagine what the source of such power could be? Or imagine what you could do with it?
Mal'caor and Draza: Do you wonder why Kraskor's eyes lingered on you two? Is it perhaps that neither are truly certain that you are Blood Dragons? (one maybe von Carstein, other truly a Necrarch) How do you feel about this? Do the other Blood Dragons know you aren't truly Blood Dragons? Do you wonder how Count Bloodfang knows? Perhaps ask him, and maybe ensure he keeps it secret? Thoughts please.
If I got any of the colours wrong, I'm sorry. It was bloody hard. xD Hope you like the first update, and enjoy the roleplay.
A sinister, hissing sound emerged from behind the Count. Without turning, Kraskor spoke:
"Do not worry. We will be on our way soon. The fleet leaves within the hour," prompting a satisfied purr from the hidden voice. The Count had only a few matters to attend to now, and turned back into the tower, descending the stairs to the dungeon, where the elite were gathered. He had almost reached the chamber, when a trumpeting fanfare sounded from the castle gate. Irritated, Count Bloodfang hurried up the steps, fingering the Blood Ring as he did so.
A small coterie of warriors had entered the courtyard, headed by the trumpeters who had annoyed the Count so. Snarling at the intrusion, Kraskor was about to hurl his sword at the men before they bowed low. The small group of warriors stood aside, revealing a proud man who strode towards the Count. He was clad in leather armour, coloured both black and red, his left arm encased in plate armour and bearing two wicked-looking blades.
Count Azazrel approached Kraskor Bloodfang, bowing before offering his support in the endeavour to Naggarond. Bloodfang nodded curtly, before gesturing for him to follow Kraskor back into the castle and down towards the dungeon.
"I hope you do not mind, Count," said Bloodfang, "But I do hate trumpeters. Well, living ones anyway. You will not be needing your escort." Simultaneously, the men above were silently killed by the Skeletal Guard, Bloodfang's elite grave guard. [Respond to this how you will: you can either not care at all, or just acknowledge it and move on; they're only humans after all, and music players at that. Not much help in the Land of Chill. You may also speak to Kraskor, but he will reply abruptly and simply. You have a measure of control here.]
As the two Counts descended the stairs, a shadow swept out. Startled, Kraskor drew the Bloodfang, before the dark-leather clad figure bowed. Dietrich Mueller explained that he would not enter a prison room quite as willingly as the others until he saw Kraskor himself enter. Laughing, Count Bloodfang slapped the man's back, pushing the door open and entering the chamber.
In the centre was bound Raksha Ripclaw, held in place by chains. Behind him stood Draza Afanovich, watching his prize vigilantly. Around the room stood the rest of the assembled group. It was a small chamber, with a low ceiling, bare stone walls, but a strong oaken door with large bolts which could be pulled across from the outside, and a small viewing slit which could also be shut. Ripclaw was held in place by chains from his arms and legs to the walls of the chamber, where they were attached by sturdy metal rings. Finally, a small fire burnt in a grate built into the ceiling of the chamber; laced with sorcerous incense, the fire prevented the use of magic inside the chamber. It was the perfect prison, but certainly agitated Cedrick Hyrden as Frank turned a little poorly due to the balefire.
Count Bloodfang slammed the door shut behind him as the final members entered the chamber. Much to everyone's alarm, he drew the Bloodfang, slashing it downwards. The powerful chains binding Ripclaw fell away, the blade making short work of them. Draza seemed worried, but remained still when the freed vampire made no aggressive movement.
"You," spoke Kraskor, to the assembled vampires, "Are my personal vanguard. You have all come here to partake in a dangerous mission, which may see many of you fully dead." Bloodfang eyed each vampire one by one, looking for weakness. He found none.
"You may already have your reasons for accompanying me in this venture. Some of you, however," spoke Kraskor, eyeing Ripclaw in particular, "Do not. Yet." Kraskor grinned, turning back to the group.
"There is a prize beyond all imagining in the Land of Chill. Deep within Naggaroth, there is something we can only dream of acquiring. For the Blood Dragons," said Kraskor, eyeing Sir Gavin, Dietrich Mueller, and his eyes also temporarily lingering upon Mal'caor and Draza, "We will find the ultimate prize, something so... wonderful that we will never be the same again."
"For Ripclaw, the blessed power of utter self-control, and power also. Power which will no doubt appeal to Cedrick also." Kraskor turned to the remaining vampires: the von Carsteins.
"And as for you all," said Kraskor, "A gift beyond imagination."
Kraskor pulled back the door, and marched swiftly up the stairs. His voice echoed back down the stunned vampires:
"We leave today! Ready yourselves! Follow me to glory!"
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
All: Even if you have not been addressed individually (and even then, this applies to you) there was plenty in that little speech to think about. There is also each other! You can speak to one another before Count Bloodfang arrives with Count Azazrel and Draza, and also remark on their appearance, as well as the other vampires in there already. Also, you have a chained-up Strigoi in the middle of you; surely that must mean something? I want feelings, thoughts, and then afterwards any action towards the stairs, following Bloodfang into the courtyard and towards the fleet, speak to him if you want.
Raksha Ripclaw: You have been captured previously, and have awaited the Count for two days now. The other vampires entered about fifteen minutes before the Count and the two other arrivals. You can see them as they enter; an interesting position. You can show your thoughts about each if you want, or just ignore them. However, please when you are freed, no sudden killing. Something in Bloodfang's speech appeals to you, whether it is the control you desperately seek, or, if you don't mind the blood-rages, more power to unleash once you enter the rage. Either way, something compels you to aid him.
Von Carsteins: You are all intrigued by what Bloodfang says to you specifically. You can also note what he says to others to appeal to them, but give you main focus to what he says to you. It is very mysterious, and has sent your imaginations into a spin; what could it be? It would be nice to see you all imagining different possibilities, and of course, wondering what it is that Bloodfang seeks so desperately.
Blood Dragons: Something so wonderful... ultimate. These words spiral through your heads. What could it be that demands such reverence from Count Bloodfang? Your thoughts, please.
Cedrick Hyrden: Power? Sounds good? And spoken with such reverence, it must be something big. Perhaps imagine what the source of such power could be? Or imagine what you could do with it?
Mal'caor and Draza: Do you wonder why Kraskor's eyes lingered on you two? Is it perhaps that neither are truly certain that you are Blood Dragons? (one maybe von Carstein, other truly a Necrarch) How do you feel about this? Do the other Blood Dragons know you aren't truly Blood Dragons? Do you wonder how Count Bloodfang knows? Perhaps ask him, and maybe ensure he keeps it secret? Thoughts please.
If I got any of the colours wrong, I'm sorry. It was bloody hard. xD Hope you like the first update, and enjoy the roleplay.