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Memories of the Nighthaunt

Disciple of Nagash

The Perverted One
Staff member
Joined
Feb 12, 2008
Messages
27,916
#1
There should have been a warning. Screams, roars, footsteps... something.

But there was nothing as the flurry of rampaging spirits tore through the hamlet, so small it had no name. Only as the screams of the living echoed through the night did an answering cry sound, and all those who heard wished for the silence to return as it grew in pitch and fury, bursting blood vessels until many simply collapsed, faces twisted in agony.

Milena backed up against the wall of her hovel as a stalking horror raised its scythe. Weeping in terror she covered her eyes, jet black hair as was common with the inhabitants of Shyish flowing over her face, contrasting sharply with her pale skin.

Moments passed and yet the killing blow she was expecting never came. Frozen with fear, she didn't dare to look until she felt a gentle tug on her hair. Hesitantly, looking through her fingers, the sight of the wraith slowly pulling a lock of her hair towards its dark hood greeted her. A shudder ran through her as she focused on the skeletal hand twisting the black strands back and forth as if inspecting it. The hood shifted slightly, and whilst she couldn't see anything inside the inky depths, she could feel it's gaze on her face.

Images flickered, images from so long ago...or were they? The passage of time required thought to notice it, and for many of the Nighthaunt, thought was subsumed beneath the animalistic urge to rend and kill, driven mercilessly by those of the dead with a will stronger than they. Even now he could feel those commands trying to cloud what little thought he had.

He....that was remembered as well. Ever since his spirit had risen to kill, again and again, there had been no concept of a sexuality, just the tireless work of the damned.

A laugh, full of life, alluring and most definitely female seemed to echo from far away, triggered by the hair twisting in his grip. He had held hair like this before, albeit in a grip of strong flesh, not bone. The pale skin was another trigger, causing a cascade of memories to flash by...too fast..he couldn't see them but the impression left behind was enough. Of something that was important to him, that he needed, that at one time had made him feel joy.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"

The words were not spoken but instead felt as a towering apparition flowed through the wall. This creature was one of those who maintained its thoughts and desires beyond the grave, and though its skeletal face displayed no emotion, waves of displeasure emanated forth as it finally noticed its underling fighting back against commands instilled in it.

Milena whimpered, urinating in terror, the deathly words hitting her mind like hammer blows. As the Wraith slowly turned to the new horror she collapsed to her knees, wanting to curl into a ball but unable to take her face off the scene in front of her.

"KILL HER!"

The command ended in a rising screech that set Milena's ears ringing, and provided no doubt to the exasperation of the Banshee. The Wraith simply floated there, paused as if considering what do next.

Who was this creature to command him? A flickered image was held onto long enough to remind him of times when he commanded such as she, with an iron will that none of their kind could deny, a lauded master of the wraiths. Feelings surged stronger pushing away more of the mist that was trying to suffocate his mind, feelings of strength, control, arrogance...and anger.

"No"

The reply was barely whispered, but in a way that was worse than the stone-cutting tone of the Banshee. It was colder than the grave, with a clear underlying threat and it infuriated the other spirit beyond measure. The last thing that Milena saw was the blur of a scythe before the Banshee's enraged scream cause her head to erupt in a shower of brain matter and bone.

***

The Wraith looked down upon the lands of Shyish, experiencing more slivers of long forgotten memories as he contemplated what to do next. The Banshee had proved to be surprisingly easy to dispatch considering he was unaffected by her scream, and as for the woman, well he had no feelings, either way, considering she had fulfilled her purpose. He still wasn't sure why, but something about her had triggered dormant memories of someone, and all he knew was they he needed to find her, whoever she was.

Instinctively he knew his task to do with the great pull from deep within this realm, a pull that seemed to somehow have a grasp on all things of the dead. The stronger his mind became, the less it affected him. Yet, even with that thought, came a greater certainty that there was a power down there that was dangerous beyond reckoning, a power he knew from long ago and did not want to experience again.

Bone rattled against stone as he drummed his fingers as he had done in life, considering the risk of what he would be attempting. Unbidden another giggle echoed from his memories, teasing and taunting

Surely you're not scared?

It had been spoken at another time in jest, drawn from the depths of his mind in sympathy of his current predicament. The mocking tones should have driven him to anger, he could feel enough of his own arrogance to know that. Yet, he also knew that he would forgive anything of the one that had spoken this. The words crystallised his resolve into action, and his form rose into the air, hefting his rusty scythe in readiness. it was time to bring back what he had lost.


To be continued...
 

Count Vashra

Lord of Shadows
True Blood
Joined
Sep 29, 2013
Messages
1,559
#2
A...different choice for a POV character. It'll be interesting to see where this goes, and if he rebuilds himself to some measure.
 
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