TVC II Chapter 5 - The Wastes

[Malochai]

Shah cursed as the ground shattered about his feet, thrown off of his feet by the blast of magic. As he pulled himself to his feet, the vampire cursed once more, and automatically assumed a ready pose despite the pain coursing up his right leg and a deep ache in his left shoulder. His fangs started to ache as they extended, growing to an inch and a half, the razor sharp teeth tearing gouges in his lips once more. The pain was now no more than a dull twinge.

Noting that all the daemons had dissipated the vampire growled slightly and let his hands fall to his sides until he realised he still hadn’t collected his sword. Skillfully he unhooked the right hand Claw and clipped it onto his belt before scouring the ground with his eyes for the Nehekharan-styled weapon. Spotting it, he strode over quickly and reclaimed it, running a critical eye over it before scowling and sheathing it. ‘Not as if it’s truly Nehekharan,’ he thought. ‘Worthless fake.’

Finally ready, although still feeling the pain in his leg and a cold, bone-deep sensation in his shoulder, Markus raised an eyebrow as he stared at the vast nothingness around them. “So. Where do we go from here, Champion?” he asked, turning to look at Rowhaine, expecting him to have risen and be ready to proceed as he was, only to find him still on the floor. “Champion? Champion!” he called, slowly striding over. He had seen how he had combated the creature outside Drakenhof; getting mistaken for an enemy would be bad for his health. He noted the unconscious Ushabti around the Champion and shivered; they were far too alive for him to be comfortable around them, as was their leader.

Kneeling, the vampire placed the back of his hand against Rowhaine’s forehead and drew it back at the warmth. “Champion! Get up; you’re needed!” When he didn’t reply, the Lion stood and looked around at the others. “Can anybody help? Get up of your rumps and do something!”

 

[Sweeney Todd]

Rising from one knee, Kenshiro strode out of the dust clouds kicked up by the magical explosion like some traveling hero of folklore. Though his subconscious incantations had protected him from the brunt of the blast, he was far from unscathed with large burn marks adorning his torso and arms. If those injuries pained him, it did not show as Kenshiro cautiously stepped forth in a defensive posture, ready to strike should any foe emerge from the debris.

Kenshiro continued to scan the distance, but not for long. Upon hearing the Lion's cry, he took a quick glance sideways to ensure the coast was clear before quickly running over to Shah's position. Kenshiro found himself staring at the surprising sight of an unconscious Rowhaine, with the Ushabti around him likewise incapacitated. He had thought them much more resilient, or perhaps here was revealed a hitherto unknown weakness, Kenshiro did not know for sure. The vampire wordlessly moved beside Shah and knelt over the Champion. Raising Rowhaine's head with one hand, he extended two fingers of the other hand and took a quick breath before jabbing the back of the Champion's neck, right on one of his major acupoints...or so he hoped. Living avatars of the gods were rare specimens, and the Far Easterner had no idea if acutherapy would work on them.

Belatedly, Kenshiro realized that the Lion beside him, being of the Old World, likely had no conception of ki or acupoints and could easily mistake what he was doing as attempted murder. This forced him into speech

"I hope this works." Kenshiro lamely added.

 

[Get of W'soran]

Nekhlior lay on the ground as he tried to piece together what had exactly happened.

Feeling his staff still in hand he used the arcane artefact to help push himself back onto his feet.

The Necrarch stared around at all the fallen forms, seeing only Shah and Kenshiro appearing to have recovered so far.

They seemed to be standing over someone.

Rowhaine!

Everything clicked into place as he realised that the Champion had endangered himself to protect him.

"Oh look you got Lesa's son killed...such a shame."

Nekhlior spun to see V'azrin smirking at him.

"You're not real...go away." he whispered quietly, glancing over his shoulder at the others, afraid they might hear his madness.

The apparition ignored him.

"Dead, dead, dead. So very very dead." it sang madly.

"NO! Nekhlior screamed a powerful pulse of Necromantic energy bursting outwards from the vampire.

The imagined shade was blown apart by the magic.

Swiftly Nekhlior made his way over to the two vampires and fallen Champion.

He stood silently for a moment before speaking.

"I can not heal the living." he muttered bitterly.


An idea suddenly struck the Necrarch and he spread his conciousness along the magical link that attached him to his servants.

"Rowhaine, the items from V'azrin's fault...item number 1054...sent it to me. he said telepathically to the Necrarch Apprentice.

A swift of confirmation was the only reply.

Nekhlior stood silently for a moment before a box materialised next to him.

Kneeling the Necrarch lifted it and froze for a moment with reluctance before opening the box.

Cringing from the contents he upended the container so the single item within fell on top of Rowhaine's chest.

The Golden Talisman of Asaph, an ancient holy icon in the shape of an poisonous asp, a trophy V'azrin had won whilst serving under Nagash.

Nekhlior stood up and stepped away from the amulet, the image of the Goddess he had betrayed many millennia ago.

"I'll see to the others." he muttered.

Setting of Nekhlior began chanting Necromantic healing spells as he set out to heal the fallen Council Members.

 

[Disciple of Nagash]

In the aftermath of the explosion those Council members still remained concious had failed to notice the drumming of hooves, and over the nearby ridge five armoured riders appeared. Both rider and beast were massive, covered in sheets of black steel that were covered in the dark runes of the Chaos gods. They gave no war cry, only drawing out dark blades that rippled with malign energy.

Before any below could react they charged. The speed of their beasts was horrific, but something else was faster. With an ear ringing roar Graveclaw ploughed into the knight's flank like a cannonball. His bulk landed on top of the first knight, smashing down with enough force crumple armour, snap the warrior's spine and drive his body down and into the horse beneath. The resulting mess splattered gore all around but the Strigoi was already moving forward, both arms swinging together in a bone crunching blow that split the second warriors head like an overripe melon.

In mere moments Graveclaw had utterly destroyed two of the famed warriors of chaos, and the other three peeled off out of his rampaging grasp. Two carried on to Council members whilst the third, a champion of some kind turned to face this new thread.

Graveclaw stood on the ground, hunched over on all fours, eyes glaring at his foe. The urge to charge and finish him off was almost overpowering but he stood his ground, claws gouging into the earth. He knew of the chaos warriors, of their skill, and he also knew the warrior was sizing him up, wondering what type of beast he truly was.

With a roar Graveclaw reared on his back legs, fists hammering his chest in primal fury. His eyes shone with bloodlust, spittle flying from his disfigured maw. With a snort of derision the knight charged. Faster and faster he urged the daemonic steed towards the insane animal, blade held at the perfect angle to strike a decapitating blow.

As always time started to slow as he drew near, arm slowly starting to move through its killing strike. Yet as he did he saw the eyes of the beast on him, and in that look he saw not a mindless animal, but ancient cunning. Graveclaw unfolded like the wrath of a vengeful god, one massive hand hammering into the oncoming horse's head whilst another grabbed the warrior's striking arm by the wrist and used the momentum to throw the knight up and over.

With a crash the knight hit the ground and he knew that his back had been broken. A heavy thud sounded next to him and looking up he saw Graveclaw's monstrous form lifting his dead steed over his head. Words failed at the power shown, to lift the already heavily mutated beast with the thick barding as well. Now the roar that came from the Strigoi's mouth was no feint, only one of victory as he smashed the horse down onto the struggling knight once, twice and then a third time leaving only a messy ruin of blood and metal on the ground.

***

Red eyes staring the darkness, full of hunger, full of rage. Always watching, always waiting for an opportunity. Rowhaine could feel it drawing near, sensing a moment of weakness.

Suddenly a light shone in the darkness and from it came voice.

There you are!

Rowhaine awoke with a start, eyes looking around in shock as he saw the surrounding vampires. On his chest something glowed hot and he saw an amulet on this chest.

Where were you?

Asaph's voice sounded almost concerned, moreso than he had ever heard and with a groan Rowhaine rubbed his aching head.

'I think I was unconscious,' he thought back, 'the explosion must have been more powerful than I realised.' Even as he said it the fact that the vampires were already up made him pause. His gifts should in theory make him even more resilient than them.......like a fading dream the image of the eyes flickered into his mind before they disappeared, leaving him with a cold shudder that ran down his back.

You have been unconscious before. Your mind does not normally disappear from my sight like it did this time

'Most likely something to do with the wastes,' Rowhaine thought as he stood up, thanking Kenshiro and Shah as they assisted him. In moments he felt the strength flowing back through his body, but still the lapse greatly concerned him. Before any more could be said however the drumming of hooves caught his attention and he watched the massacre unfold between the chaos warriors and the surprise appearance of Graveclaw.

Preparing as the remaining two drew near, the attackers seemed to have a change of heart as they realised the vampiric nature of some of their foes, and the holy aura around some of the others. As the Ushabti slowly stirred and the victorious roars of Graveclaw rang in their eyes they once again changed direction and fled.

"It seems our presence here will not be as secret as we had hopped," Rowhaine spoke, "we will have to move quickly."

 

[Malochai]

“You are welcome, Champion,” Shah returned with a nod when Rowhaine stood. Markus looked out towards the two Knights who looked intent on riding them down, and scowled. A low growl reverberated deep in his and he took a fighting stance which he hoped would negate the advantage inferred by the enemy being mounted. And then he heard Graveclaw’s bestial roar. ‘Truly is he a beast ...’ he told himself, slightly chilled, but then he saw the other two riders turn their mounts and flee. Anger filled him, and he spat in disgust.

“Cowards. I was under the impression that the Knights of Chaos were amongst the most fearsome warriors we could face. Clearly, the tales are nought but lies.” He shook his head, and anger faded, fangs retreating into his gums. The Baron looked out at the assembled vampires and raised an eyebrow under his mask. With a snort, he turned to survey the Wastes, listening to the others.

When he heard what Rowhaine said, the blood of Abhorash nodded sternly. “You are right, Lord Rowhaine. But my question is, why were they out here by themselves? Either we need that answer, or the truth as to where the rest of their warband is ... I know enough to know they use the tribes as outriders. Why were fully fledged Knights here?
“And we need to know whether they are truly under the thrall of Vekarin.”

 

[Sweeney Todd]

Kenshiro simply nodded in acknowledgement of Rowhaine when he stood, before turning to the three knights retreating in a small cloud of dust that rapidly grew more and more distant. Only when it looked certain that the knights would not be returning did Kenshiro turn a contemplative gaze upon Graveclaw. The Far Easterner realized that despite all his outward displays of bestiality and aggression, Graveclaw had trekked all the way from Drakenhof to here to aid the Council. Kenshiro looked unperturbed as he turned back to the rest of the Council.

"It is indeed remarkable that such heavy cavalry would be the first to respond. Either our skirmish with the daemons took longer than it seemed, or our arrival here was expected. Besides what the Lion has already mentioned, we need to move quickly, and we need a way to be able to outpace enemy horsemen."

 

[Disciple of Nagash]

“It is difficult to ascertain the reasons why such warriors would be here, but then we do not know where here truly is. All we know is that we are in the wastes, and there could be enemy forces moving all around us. That explosion was big enough to catch attention for miles around, and it is likely that they arrived first due to their speed.” Rowhaine looked over at the Ushabti who seemed to have recovered somewhat from the blast, although they all sported cuts and bruises. Phahotep noticed the inquiring look and nodded in response instinctively, they were ready to move.

“Myself and the Ushabti can move at a speed to match vampires due to our blessings,” Rowhaine said to the others, withholding the fact that in truth he was likely much faster, “without mortals to limit us I would suggest we simply run as fast as possible.” He watched as Graveclaw approached, eyes flickering from one member of the Council to the other. From their last meeting something had changed in the beast and he seemed more like the vampire that had delivered the news of his mother-in-darkness death than the mindless creature he had seen at the Council meeting.

“Well met,” Rowhaine said, dipping his head in greeting, “and thanks. I think your actions has as much to do with changing those warriors mind than when they realised what they faced.”

Graveclaw snorted dismissively,

“Warriorssss wassss weak, no challenge,” he snarled, spitting into the dust, “more might comessss, bigger fight.” As in the past, Rowhaine was struck by how savage Graveclaw appeared to be when compared to the intelligence that was clearly there if someone bothered to look deep enough. One of the Carsteins would just assume he was an idiotic animal looking to get into a bigger fight and blow whatever left of their secrecy. For those that knew him however, the statement was clearly said with thought and warning that they needed to move.

“If we are ready then,” Rowhaine asked the others, pushing back the question about Graveclaw’s sudden appearance until they were in a safer position.

 

[the hidden one]

Igor, who was still hiding under his cloak, reappeared, a few meters from Rowhaine, spoke. "I agree. Running is probably our safest bet, as this is the land of chaos, and they know we are here obviously."

 

[Get of W'soran]

Nekhlior returned to Rowhaine's side.

"I have cast Necromantic healing spells over the area, it should passively heal any wounds the council has sustained." he rasped as the vampire eyed the mounted enemy "It may make your men feel a bit ill but it shouldn't have any lasting negative effects."

Tuning his gaze to Graveclaw Nekhlior dipped his head slightly.
"Graveclaw." he said in welcome, the Strigoi was more beast than true vampire but he was certainly a welcome and powerful ally.

"And not one to be underestimated. Trust me on that point." V'azrin's voice noted sincerely although the shade was currently no where in sight.

The Necrarch smirked faintly and turned to face Rowhaine.

"Retreat? A tactic I can certainly get behind."

 

[Ghouly]

A low growl rumbled deep in Graveclaw’s chest “If puny vampiressss run away they besssst keep running, becaussssssse the next time Graveclaw ssssee them, he’ll eat their dammed heartsssss!” he snarled, his one good eye flicking back and forth between the Necrarch and Blood Dragon before turning back to Rowhaine “Graveclaw caressss not at all for the Undead, and he remembersssss sssstill the monsssster that you where, he doesssn’t care what Deamon you found that letsss you pretend to be human, and Graveclaw will sssssee the Carsssstinessss fall, let undead and Chaosssss kill each other Graveclaw doessssn’t care, he fightssss to protect the mortalssss who will be caught in between, Graveclaw will tolerate the council for now, DON’T…….RATTLE……. HISSSSS……..CAGE boy!” he growled punctuating each word with a jab to Rowhaine’s chest, before turning away with a snort.
Standing to his full height the Strigoi sniffed the air, and pointed northwards, “Chaossss that way Graveclaw can ssssssmell their ssssstench from here”.

 

[The Sanguine Prince]

Darkness shrouded her senses, or at least until light finally managed to pierce it. Blighted Daemon! She thought to herself. As the light finally unraveled the darkness, Esmerelda smiled. She was in a pleasure den, filled with many beautiful men and women. They laid eyes upon her and began to approach, reverance etched on their features. The Queen sighed with joy, if this was the true death then she would gladly welcome it. As the beautiful people began to embrace her, a green light began to appear in the distance. It rapidly drew near, and Esmerelda recognised it to be a skeletal hand. Before she could begin to run, the hand grabbed her by the boots, dragging her away from her radiant concubine. Gods Dammit!! Was all she thought until even brighter light manifested.out

Awakening from her dream, Esmerelda felt invigorated. Someone was using Necromancy to heal her cold dead flesh. In immense feral roar that held many centuries of fury and hatred had been unleashed, awakening her from what little grogginess remained. Afterwards, the sound of hooves grew distant and the Strigany Queen leapt to, whirling Feysilver as she spun. The dark magic within found no release as it bisected nothing but air. She quickly cursed herself for missing the action, after realising that some very juicy targets had fled to the eight winds.

After this she turned Nekhlior. "I thank you Necrarch, for saving my unlife .... But could you not have waited till I finished dreaming?"

Esmerelda then directed her next words to Graveclaw.

"That was quite the roar Strigoi, reminds me of one of your disintegrated kinsman under my banner ...Except old Ellimalech lacks the passionate hatred you have of all undead, not that it matters to me at all."

 

[Get of W'soran]

Nekhlior was standing with his hand's clasped behind his back, he was not actively engaging the enemy. Instead the Necrarch had summoned a protective aura taking the shape of unholy black fire dancing across his flesh.

The rest of Nekhlior's arcane strength was going into maintaining the Necromantic wards he had placed over the area to heal the injured members of the council.

Hearing the Lahmian speak to him Nekhlior give a horrific grin.

"I shall endeavour to leave you unconscious next time." he rasped. "Never the less you are welcome."

"Oh and please address me as Master Nekhlior." he added indignantly.

 

[Ghouly]

Graveclaw snorted at Esmerelda dismissively “Graveclaw doesssssn’t care what Lahmian thinkssssss” he grunted before marching of northwards “Graveclaw came to cruss chaosssss, nothing elsssse!” he snarled.

 

[Disciple of Nagash]

Following the attack the group had recovered quickly. The Ushabti had shrugged off their wounds, relying on their gifts to mend and heal them, although Phahotep looked notably disgruntled at awakening after the vampires.

'How strong is the spoor?' Rowhaine thought as they crested the ridge, revealing a dusty plain in front of them. The desolation of the wastes was as far as they eye could see, grey and dry dirt with massive boulders and rocks randomly strewn across the landscape. Twisted and withered trees appeared here and there, cracked bones piled disturbingly around the roots. As Rowhaine watched he saw one not fifty foot away shiver, and with painful slowness twist in their direction as if wanting to look at them. It happened so slowly that he had no doubt that most creatures, men or otherwise, would have not even noticed the slow change. Yet the overall impression was not one of limitation, but of patience and stealth, of a hunter stalking its prey.

The most uncanny element however was the sky. At first glance it seemed like any other, if dark and overcast with grey clouds. Yet the more one watched, the more it seemed to shimmer as if caught in a heatwave, the fluctuating lines forming shapes and faces that disappeared as fast they appeared. Even with the mental fortitude of the vampires or the blessings of the gods, it was still a site that could drive them mad.

It is strong. The vampire you know as Vekarin is north east, but be warned. As you draw nearer we can sense the corruption more. Much is still blocked from our sight but be wary. The enemies forces are extremely potent, even with the power of your gathering you would still be swiftly overwhelmed.

In the far distance Rowhaine could see the stain on the horizon that marked an encampment with numbers into the thousand. With so many black armoured bodies it looked like a cancer on the land, yet it was one they would have to brave.

"In there is our target," Rowhaine pointed, hunched down as to avoid unwanted attention, "As we get closer I will be able to provide a more definite location, however our problem is to how to infiltrate such a foe? A head on assault would be suicidal. Suggestions?"

 

[The Sanguine Prince]

Esmerelda evaluated the Champion of Asaph's words. She looked over at the assembled Warriors of Chaos, numbering in their thousands. It would not bode well if they antagonised the hornet's nest, especially if the typical hornet was a 7ft tall armoured giant who could tear a man's head off and play atiiball with it. At least not without a plan. If there was thing the Lahmian knew, it was that the Norse loved battle; whether or not it is with the south-bound people or their own it was an opportunity to prove themselves in the eyes of their foul gods.

"The warriors of the north love battle do they not? Well I say indulge them."

Expecting the others to call her a mad strumpet, she continued.

"The Norse fight each other more than they do with the south. There will be many corpses left over from these struggles; a ripe fruit for a brave...or insane Necromancer. The battle I propose is a distraction, whilst some of us remain to command these raised underlings, a force will steal into the camp and achieve our objective. Once they are done, we can retreat...unless fortune smiles upon us and this raised force actually defeats this warband then it will be a bonus. Don't make victory the goal, lest our rouse crumbles. Of course this army should be raised far from our objective as possible."

Esmerelda smiled.

"See? I'm not just a pretty face?"

 

[Malochai]

"An interesting idea, Esmerelda, but from what I have heard of Vekarin, we would have to have a force many times the size of that camped down there. I doubt he would let any weakness infect the heart of his army, and thus that army is strong ... Beyond strong, despite not being the size of, say, Tamurkhan's invasion force. I have my doubts any force would be able to keep them distracted for long.
"As much as I hate to suggest it, my mind immediately went to drawing Vekarin from the heart of his force, rather than drawing the heart from Vekarin.
"No doubt those outriders are already winging their way back to their lord with tales of a bestial creature who can swat them like a peasant can flies. Surely, when a description is given, his mind must immediately go to Graveclaw? After all, the ... Good Strigoi is hardly likely to be confused with any other, is he?" Shah paused for a moment, considering, Claws clicking against each other rhythmically as he thought.

"If I were Vekarin - or indeed, any leader worthy of the name - I wouldn't let such an insult stand. No, I would ride out to meet the threat. And one such as Vekarin would not feel the need to come with a large armed escort, surely? Obviously, I don't know him, but ... I could see a squad of Knights accompanying him, no more. We," he continued, gesturing at the vampires present, "Could kill his guards, whilst yourself, Champion, and your humans do what you must with Vekarin."

He then shrugged. "Or Vekarin will recognise the threat and decamp his entire army to attack us, by which time we could easily have disappeared. He wields a great hammer. But a great hammer is little use against a fly."

His part said, Markus lapsed into a studious silence as he observed the sky, the haze starting to entrance him as it wound throughout the air. It was with great effort that he pulled himself away from the hypnotising, maddening shapes and instead looked to the ground, comparing it to his own lands and definitely preferring the latter. There was an eerie quality to the Wastes beyond what the vampire had expected; the mental fortitude of humans was doubtful and so he had always wondered about the few reports he had gotten his hands on, but now he saw it was so much more than he ever thought.

 

[Ghouly]

Graveclaw glared at the gathered horde, a low growl rumbling at the back of his throat, the only sign that he was listening to the council where his large bat-like ears tilting back towards them. “There many thingssss in the wasssstessss that could do assssss Graveclaw did” the Strigoi grunted his one good eye never leaving the horde “they probably think Graveclaw wasssss ssssimply a chaosssss ssssssspawn, who went to eat you after he finised with them” a ferial red glow entered the Strigois eye “no Graveclaw wouldn’t even crosssss Banessssspikesssss mind, he rightly think of Graveclaw asssssss a beasssst, Graveclaw will wait till nightfall to sssssstalk into the campssssite and devour Banesssspikessss damn heart!” the Strigoi finished with a snarl foam and saliva began to spill from the Strigoi’s mouth.

 

[Get of W'soran]

Nekhlior watched the sky with great interest, only barely registering the conversation of the others.

"It is quite pretty really." Nekhlior thought to himself as he giggled though he hadn't the faintest idea what was amusing.

Without looking at the others the Necrarch spoke.

"I'm no strategist but why not send the Assassin to find the easiest route into the camp, eliminating lone guards as he goes, whilst we follow through a combination of stealth ability and magical cover?"

 

[Sweeney Todd]

Kenshiro gazed for a moment into the unnatural skyscape and the encampment blotting out the horizon. A chorus of half-heard whispers in the wind found no purchase on his mind as he turned his attention back to the discussion at hand.

"I see a problem with attempting to bait Vekarin out. A personal challenge of this sort usually implies one on one combat. At the present moment I do not think any of us, not even the Champion or Graveclaw, can stand toe to toe with him alone. And if our appointed challenger is not alone, Vekarin would be under no obligation to come out himself. He could simply hit us with anything and everything at his disposal. That might not be undesirable though, if we wish to observe his forces' true capabilities." He paused for a moment, before continuing.

"As for infiltration, we would need to choose who to dispatch on such an endeavor carefully. That group will only be as strong as its weakest link."

 

[Malochai]

"Like I said, he could do that. But we would see the threat long before it arrived and as such we could avoid it - thus, my hammer metaphor," Markus said with a shrug. "I am much more familiar with tactics which involve myself and maybe my guards against less potent forces, like lone monsters and creatures. Large-scale tactics are not my forté. And my idea was based on his hubris drawing him out with only a select force. I will readily admit there is the chance it would not happen."

Markus then frowned beneath his mask and looked askance at Graveclaw. "I wouldn't be so sure of what he does and doesn't think. From what I understand, Banespike is not stupid. Surely he would recognise a description of you, and a group as bizarre as this ... Surely that alone would raise his interest?"

 

[Count Darvaleth]

Kraskor glowered. Yet again his sire seemed to have been tried, found guilty, and sentenced in his own absence.

"I will forgive your assumptions that Lord Vekarin is indeed our foe," began Kraskor, "As the proof of his innocence will be more than enough to satisfy me, when we reach the camp."

Kraskor saw to the restrapping of his pauldron and some of the armour plates, after the blast had knocked him clear. "You cannot plan for what Vekarin might do, as our foe is not Vekarin. And I shall not sully his honour by telling you what he might do if he were in these circumstances, because the fact is he isn't."

Kraskor checked his von Carstein-made sword; it wasn't broken yet. The Blood Dragon was faintly surprised.

 

[Malochai]

Markus growled low in his throat and turned on Kraskor. "Your refusal to acknowledge a potential truth dishonours us all," he said, almost spitting the words out, eyes alight with disgust. "I am sure that you are not the only one who will be hurt if it turns out that Vekarin is indeed our enemy, but you need to stop wallowing in denial. Accept the possibility!"

 

[Get of W'soran]

Nekhlior stepped between Kraskor and Markus with a smile.

"Friends, it is not like the warriors of Abhorash to argue when there work to be done." he said swiftly.

"Worry about honour later my apprentice, for now we must find this Chaos Lord and see a way into his camp." he added over the link to Kraskor.

Lowering his hands he pointed at Igor "I still say send him now, he is perfectly silent and invisible even to our vampiric eyes. Let the assassin scout the edge of our enemy's camp whilst we decide on a plan. He will return with information and we will have wasted no time coming up with what to do next."

He looked around "Infiltration makes the most sense. We can not battle the enemy nor depend on him being drawn from his men. Most of us are extremely skilled in moving silently when hunting mortals for prey, whether with arcane or mundane abilities."

 

[Count Darvaleth]

Kraskor bit back a snarl. "I cannot expect you to understand, so perhaps it is foolish of me. Perhaps I can try to help you see why I know it is false," said Kraskor, somewhat calmer.

"If I told you the sun was made of water, would you believe me? If I told you your heart was beating, would you even think to check the lie? When you say that my sire is... a traitor," Kraskor spat the word, clogging like dirt in his mouth, "You say something that to me is so inconceivably untrue, that I cannot entertain the possibility." Kraskor paused, before chuckling, "And then there is honour and hubris on top of that, which all makes for quite the cocktail."

Kraskor inclined his head towards Nehklior, acknowledging his message with respect. "I of course agree with Master Nehklior. Our first priority is reaching the camp, not the identity of our foe."

 

[Ghouly]

Graveclaw gaze snapped away from the foes campsite at Kenshiro’s words, his eye narrowing as he glared at the Cathayin “Graveclaw the only one here who can kill Banessssspike little man, not dog-boy not Dragonssss, or puny Necrarch, Graveclaw bigger than Banessssssspike, Graveclaw tougher than Banessssssspike, Graveclaw ssssstronger than Banessssspike, he isssss jussst a man, Graveclaw a monsssster, he jusssst need some tenderizing that all” he snapped “ Banesssspike not dumb no he jussssst blind, he won’t notice Graveclaw until Graveclaw ssssssmaing him in the face, council can jusssst go away, you jusssst get under Graveclawssss feet, he not need your help”.