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TVC - Chapter 31 - Death Approaches

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Disciple of Nagash

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#26
"Subject now becomes hostile," the Sentence noted, but before he could ask anything the Executioner's patience, never the longest, finally ran out.

"Enough of your games," he snapped at the Necrach, his massive bulk pushing the Necrach to one side. Looking down at the bound Blood Dragon his eyes narowed, "unless you enjoy such games I suggest you curb your insolence. If you provide me the information I ask for your final death will be quick. If not I will leave you his tender attentions. Now tell me, why does you Council defy the Dark Lord, what is it they wish to gain?"
 

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#27
"The world, you fool." Vekarin spat at the Dreadlord, his words thick with froth and blood. "Without Nagash they will gain the ultimate power in the Old World, and your kind will be wiped from existence like the infestation of some pest, or are you too stupid to see that?"
 

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#28
Vekarin's words earned him a blow that knocked a couple of teeth flying form his mouth,
"We know more than you realise fool. Even your kind are not so stupid to think they yet have the power to overtake this world. Only the Dark Lord has the power, one he has united all the dead beneath him." Gripping hold of Vekarin by the throat he lifted him as far as his bonds would allow, black claws gouging into the soft skin.
"What are the sizes of your forces. Where are they deployed?"
 

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#29
Vekarin grimaced as the effects of Sentence's operation multiplied the pain on his blow tenfold. Spitting broken teeth and blood onto the vampire chuckled lowly.
"I have no forces. You killed them all..." Vekarin grinned, "Or maybe you are too stupid to remember? Is that it?"
 

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#30
Fury flickered over the Executioner's face before he stepped back.

"Do as you wish with him," he said to the Sentence, "maybe a few hours hours in your care will curb of his insolence." With almost a gleeful smile the Necrach stepped forward once more, this time two rods held in his hands.
"Now Blood Dragon, we will see what happens when twice the amount of pain is inflicted......"

************************

The face of the Dark Lord glared down upon Requarah, witchlights flckering from his eye sockets.
"Kemmler has engaged the other Council members. It is doubtful he will be able to hold them. None of the current members know of you. Join their cause and report back with their strength's. Go."
 

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#31
The battle had been short. Momus has not even attempted to fight the Innocence,but had fled as fast as his legs would carry him. The fool had not even realised he was being shepherded to the cells where the other Council members had been defeated by the Sentence and the Innocence. The scream he had made as he was thrust out of the same hole the other vampires had been was priceless.

Suddenly a summons sounded in his head, a summons that could not be ignored. Judging by the Dark Lord's tone he was far from pleased, and for a moment the Innocence felt a chill run down his back. All of the Dread Lord's had been summoned, so it must be of some importance. Bursting into a cloud of mist he sped through the dark tunnels, he did not wish to incur his Lord's wrath again.

******************************

With a jolt Vekarin awoke.
"Hurry," a familiar voice whispered. For a moment he was disorientated, before reailsing that at some point he must have been put to sleep, or passed out due to the torture. It took a few more minutes to realise he was no longer bound, yet he could not see anything. His vision was blurred, no doubt due to the horrific practices of the Sentence. Minutes passed before finally everything clicked back into focus.

Looking round he saw he was now on the floor, his body had either been dragged or had fallen off the bed. Of his mysterious saviour there was no sign, yet he knew that the voice was known to him, but as hard as he tried he could not place it. One thing did stand out though, the door to the room was unlocked and open and through it was the chance of his freedom.
 

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#32
Vekarin pushed himself off the floor of the chamber, looking around at the same moment for a weapon of some sort. Memories of his torture flooded back, but he pushed them aside. Now was not the time.
Spiying a small table of implements next to the bed, Vekarin stumbled towards it. Moving correctly was a difficulty after his treatment, but Vekarim managed to wrap his fingers around a long knife covered in blood, no doubt his own. Making his way to the door, Vekarin pushed his head out for a moment to check if the coast was clear. Seeing it was, he made his way out of the open portal.

Requarah looked up into the dark face of Nagash, and a glimmer of fear passed over her features.
"Uh, my lord... My own mother is among them. I'm fairly sure that she recognize me."
 

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#33
Nagash's eyes blazed, and for a moment it appeared he was going to strike down Requarah.
"You question my orders?" the ancient Liche hissed, "the Lahmian whore is not with them. Now do as I command, or I will make you regret your presumptuousness."
 

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#34
"Whatever you command, my lord." Requarah bowed deeply, turning from the hall and stepping out the great double-doors. As they closed behind her, Requarah let out a sigh and muttered something under her breath. It was fortunate that no one was near to hear it.
 

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#35
As the Executioner joined them, Nagash's baleful gaze looked over his captains. As well as the Executioner, the Innocence, Sentence, Verdict, Guilt and Judge knelt before the Dark Lord. Arkhan and the Jailer were still in Nehekhara, completing the mission assigned to them. They would not be needed anyway, for the powerful warriors arrayed before him would be more than enough.

"The Council are increasing their forces," the massive Liche hissed, "including two of the ancient dragons from the Plains of Bones." At this both the Verdict and the Guilt shuddered slightly, the marks of their punishment still plain to see.

"They cannot be allowed to increase their armies further. Executioner, take what forces are ready with the other Dread Lords. The Council is split. March to to the so-called Empire. The arrogance of the Carstein there will ensure he marches to meet you. Crush him."
 

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#36
"My lord, your wish is our command." The Excecutioner bowed deeply to the liche-lord. Hefting his axe, the massive Dreadlord made to leave.
"With your leave, master." he hissed.

Vekarin grinned ferrally as another Wight slid slowly to the ground, its skull crushed by Vekarin's massive strength. Within his armor, Vekarin was still faster than any mortal and blindingly fast compared to the undead and without the Plate of Kekarsarun's hinderance, he was a beast. Another Wight rounded on Vekarin, but before it could react and bring its cumbersome weapon to bear Vekarin had leaped over the fallen bones of his last victim, using the wall to propell him forward at his opponent. Vekarin was already running down the hall as the Wight's armored body fell to the ground with a clang.
Rounding a corner, Vekarin found what he was looking for; an ornate door guarded by two more skeletal warriors. Set into the wall and flanked by columns, Vekarin didn't need the Lahmian script engraved on the portal to tell him that this was what he needed. A fist crushed the first Wight's skull and Vekarin's pilfered knife cracked the face and baroque helm of the second. Both undead fell to the ground in heaps of bone and armor.
The knife had been forged to hack flesh and bone as easily as it did paper, yet as savagely and brutally as an axe. Putting his strength behind it, Vekarin thanked the Dreadlord's for leaving him such a sturdy tool as he drove it through the heavy bar on the other side of the door. Vekarin chuckled slightly to himself as he realized that Sentance was arrogant enough to leave the entrance to his most hoarded treasures unprotected by magic, and with a savage kick, broke through the remains of the bar. The door swung open with a thunderous clash.
Most of what Vekarin saw within the room held little interest to him. Dusty shelves of scrolls, urns, jars and tomes, racks of staffs, wands and scepters, jewels and gold with some properties of interest to the ancient Nechrarch sat gleaming in the light that now seemingly flooded the dark room, cast from lamps in the hall. Vekarin entered slowly, unsure that Sentance had not left any traps for would-be theives, but there were none. He looked around, and within moments found what he was looking for.
The Plate of Kekarsarun stood out from the rest of the room's contents quite well.
Centuries of practice allowed Vekarin to strap on the massive suit of armor within minutes, a task that would have taken a mortal much longer. Within the suit's confines, Vekarin felt at home, safe from a world that changed so much in so short a time. Now he was in control.
Faint footsteps in the stone hall behind him alterted him to the fact that his presence had been detected, and he began to look around the room quickly. A frantic search that left much of the room and it's priceless contents in ruins told Vekarin that his blade was not present, however his other weapons were. A sheild he found, and a long sword curving sword in the manner of Nehekharan weapons; too large for any normal man to wield comfortably with one hand, but Vekarin was trained in the use of such blades and he was anything but a normal man.
Vekarin turned to leave, but turned before passing through the door, striking his new weapon on the gauntlet of his armor. The Daemon within felt discomfort, but Vekarin cared not as the sparks it created lit the arcane scrolls that littered the floor of the chamber.
Vekarin grinned, Sentance would suffer greatly for his capture.
Framed by the light cast by the quickly-spreading inferno, Vekarin strode out the door to meet his enemies.
The Dreadlords would pay for their crimes.[hr]
OOC: Whoops, forgot to post this above. Oh well, the above post is too long anyway.

The great black iron gates of Nagashizzar swung open with a tortured groan, like the unearthly cries of some fell spirits. They did not do so to their full extent, not even a fraction of that width. They opened just enough to allow a single figure to speed out of them, riding on a dark Nightmare as full tilt, red cloak billowing out about her.
 

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#37
It was perhaps the only fear the crooked man had ever felt in his life, and it was not a simple apprension. His terror piqued and was cut off shortly as Vekarin callusly severed the Necromancer's head from his shoulders with a great sweep of his massive sword, the kopesh's blade slicing through bone, flesh and sinew like it would snap a piece of string. The body slumped in a spray fo arterial blood, and Vekarin tossed the leaking head from him quickly, terror etched upon the face's features.
Sorrounding the huge, armored vampire were the broken bones of dozens of Wights, their forms thrown about as if from massive impacts, their armor broken and their bones shattered and scattered around the dimly lit hallway.
Surveying the destruction about him, Vekarin grinned under his mask. Turning quickly, the massive vampire's boots resounded about the hall as he made his way deeper into the depths of Nagash's fell stronghold.
 

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#38
Vekarin pounded through the halls of Nagashizzar, his weapon raised and his shield at the ready. The fools thought they could stop him with their mindless Wight soldiers and their feeble Necromancers. He needed true enemies to hunt, enemies that would offer a true challenge.
Enemies that would pay for their transgressions with their own hearts.
Vekarin's weapon jumped, as if with a life of it's own in his hand, scything down undead before him faster than even Vekarin himself could manage. More poured in about the massive vampire, and Vekarin spun and swung, his huge sword dancing in his grasp. Wights fell about him, collapsing in on themselves as bones were crushed and cut, armor shattered and weapons hurled aside. Two, three even four undead were crushed by each scything swing that Vekarin made, their glowing weapons not a challenge to Vekarin's speed. A blast of magic was hurled from down the hall, a caster that Vekarin would not see trying to kill him as he was engaged. Instinctively, Vekarin threw out his shield, but knew it would do little to stop the oncoming blast of roiling purple energy. To his surprise, the violet lighting was rebounded off the surface of Vekarin's shield, sparking as it was reflected away from Vekarin and impacting the stone of the wall beside him. The ensuing explosion threw aside many more Wights, yet more shattered by the debris thrown about by it. Soon, the hallway was filled with dust and smoke and the flickering light of the insufficient torches. Even Vekarin's sharp eyes could not easily pick out the shapes of his attackers as they bore down on him, but their glowing blades betrayed them and they too fell beneath his blade. Another fork of purple lighting lanced toward Vekarin, again thrown off his shield. It was reflected down the hall, it's light illuminating the dust and flashing with a distant explosion as it impacted something far from him.
Vekarin hacked and slashed almost heedlessly. A mighty cry escaped his lips as he cut down more and more undead attackers. Some, the vampire noticed, were indeed alive, their faster death-cries and the sprays of their blood filling the dust-choked air. Vekarin reveled in it. All was chaos.
 

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#39
"Fool!!" The word hissed round the halls, echoing back and forth until it was impossible to tell which direction it came from. At the sound the assault stopped, the wights drawing slowly back as Vekarin look warily round to try and find the source of the voice. It seemed faintly familiar, and as the undead slowly parted he saw why.

"So you managed to escape?" the Innocence said, voice like a cold wind, "yet instead of escaping you thought you could destroy the Dark Lord and all his followers by yourself did you?

"Well nobody said the Blood Dragons ever had brains," an alluring voice said to Vekarin's left. Stepping back slightly so he could keep them both in view, he saw a slim form or the Guilt leaning casually against the wall, twirling her white hair with one finger. How she had got there without him noticing was inconceivable, yet as he heard another voice he knew they were not the only ones.

"Bow down His knowledge, for His is as endless as death," the Verdict rasped, flames flickering into life amongst his staff, "the rebel would have done well to study the teachings, and thus save himself from such a predicament that he has only himself to blame for. Then again, it is the same with all their damned kind."

"Consider your words carefully Verdict." A cold commanding voice, completely at odds with the other Dreadlords rang out. It was forceful, powerful, yet sterile. There was no nuance, so hint of personality behind the voice. It was completely devoid of emotion save one. A freezing hate that had passed so long ago rage or anger, it was not a promise of vengeance, it was a certainty.

From behind the Verdict another Dreadlord appeared, her stride and posture as strict and rigid as any generals. Garbed in armour only her head was uncovered, alabaster skin crowned with jet black hair. She could not be called beautiful or even pretty. She could have possibly been called handsome if it was not for the air of cruelty that surrounded her, the glare from her amber eyes judging with a glance.

"Present company accepted of course," Guilt interjected with a sly grin on her face.
"So what should we do with him?"the Innocence mused as he stepped forward, only to realise that Vekarin was staring at the armoured Dreadlord in shock, "you seem to have have all his attention Judge.

Ignoring the Innocence, the Judge walked slowly forward to Vekarin, eyes watchful.
"It has been a long time Blood Dragon. I hoped you dead along with your traitorous sire." Her words finally seemed to stir Vekarin's voice,
"Maatameses?"
 

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#40
"I don't you know how you survived the destruction of our fair city, ancient judge, but frankly I do not care. That you would side with Nagash astounds me, crone, although it gives me a reason to kill you along with your hellspawned brethren." Vekarin spat at the ancient figure of Lahmia's judge.
"And trust me, that was something I wished to do for a long time."
 

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#41
"Always so presumptuous," Maatameses replied as she slowly walked closed to Vekarin. He tensed, watching warily for an attack that was sure to come.

"Where is he?" The question was abrupt, giving no more information and Vekarin wondered what she meant. Before he could answer she carried on, a cold edge in her gaze, "Where is Abhorash the coward? I have not forgotten is failure, nor his part in Lahmia's downfall."

The next thing Vekarin knew he had crashed into the side of the tunnel with horrific force. His vision swan for a moment has he struggled to stand. Looking down he saw a tiny crack in his armour which rapidly disappeared as its bound daemon repaired it. Just that miniscule amount of damage spoke of tremendous power, yet looking up all he saw was the Judge stood where he had been, her fist at the same height as the crack had been on his armour.

Slowly she turned and walked forward, her faces turning all the more bestial as she did. Her gaping mouth revealed rows of razor sharp teeth and the nails a the end of her fingers looked as sharp and deadly as any blade.

"Where is he?" she hissed.
 

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#42
Vekarin stood slowly, cautiously. Provoking an attack from such an enemy would be unwise unless it was an attack on his terms.
"His failiure was no more than your own, Judge." Vekarin spat back at Maatmeses venemously. "Perhaps you should have enforced your beloved laws more frivilously, perhaps you should have stood alone at the steps of the Temple of Blood, mayhep your blade would have saved Lahmia from its iminent destruction. The strands of time are not set, but is not our part to change them."
Maatmeses sneered and leaped at the Blood Dragon, her fist raised. Both both Vekarin and the Cheif Judge's surprise, Vekarin's kopesh leaped in his hand, swinging his arm about as if by its own accord. Caught off balance by the unexpected attack, Maatmeses spun away from the massive sword, the blade simply nicking the former judge's body.
 

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#43
"The laws I laid would have protected us if the guard and your master had done as needed." The Judge's calm demeanor had gone now, the rage she felt for her beloved Lahmia showing clearly through. Stalking closer to Vekarin she swiftly avoided the blade that lashed out once more, catching his wrist in an iron had grip. The look in her eyes made it clear she intended to rip the Blood Dragon apart before a cough interrupted her.

"Surely your not going to take all the fun for yourself?" the Guilt smiled coyly as she sauntered up towards them, the Verdict and Innocence also close by.
"Yes Judge. The Dark Lord commanded this one not to be destroyed, but interrogated," the Innocence added, "though admittedly it seemed the Sentence was not faring particularly well. Perhaps I can make him speak though...." The Judge paused, clearly struggling against her anger before throwing Vekarin to the ground.
"If he doesn't speak he dies."
 

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#44
"Too late." Vekarin sneered as he pushed himself off the cold stone floor. "I've already died, judge. But then again, I've conquered it! I am not weakened as you and your weak brethren are, vampire. I am immortal but not vampiric, I hunger but do not eat, I move but am not living and never dead. How many times has oblivion embraced you, Maatmeses? How many times would you suffer Morr's grips for your beloved city yet let it fall to the hands of mortals, human, cattle? You feel rage at its destruction and yet join he who allowed for Lahmia's annihilation. You are a fool, Maatmeses, you always were, and that will make your death all the more sweet."
 

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#45
Vekarin’s words has the desired affect as Maatameses strode forward in rage, but suddenly they were interrupted by a roar of anger.
”Impudent whelp!” the Innocence bellowed, ”you speak of things you do not know, and think you have the right to lecture the Dread Lords of Nagash? Let us see how talkative you are with your body ripped apart!” From his raised hands twinned streams of mist blasted forth, ramming into Vekarin’s body and catapulting him down the tunnel. His fabled armour could do nothing to protect him as he was lifted and smashed into the tunnel wall, the force enough to crack bones. For a second there as calm, yet Vekarin knew it was a lull in the storm, that in a moment the attack would be upon him once more. Sure enough a roar filled his ears as dark mist surged towards him, and he could do nothing except instinctively raise his shield which was still strapped to his arm.

Nothing happened. For a minute he wondered whether he had died before screams of pain and anger filled his ears. Looking over the rim of his shield he saw that somehow it’s mirrored surface had repelled the attack, turning it back on the Dreadlords. Down the tunnel he could see nothing except twisting streams of mist, no doubt made all the worse by the Guilt’s innate ability. It would not be long however before they recovered and came at him once more, and glancing behind he could see the tunnel was clear. If there was ever a chance to escape it would be now.

(OOC: I hope you get the hint Vekarin xD)
 

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#46
"Tearing me apart would be difficult if you don't have me to tear at." Vekarin muttered to himself as he turned down the corridor. Sprinting steadily away from the Dreadlords, Vekarin felt a long forgotten memory arise within him.
Cowardice...
My, you have changed Vekarin.
 
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