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TVC - Chapter 39 - The Scribe

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Simon von Carstein

The Poetic Fiend
True Blood
Stormclouds were gathering over Sylvania when Simon and Peter arrived at Drakenhof. Vast legions of undead were already beginning to form up around it. Simon had summoned forty legions to the Keep if he added those to the twenty five he had at Nexeternus and the Border Princes he was confident he would be able to defend the region from anything Nagash's Dreadlords could throw at him.

Get of W'soran

CN's Lord of Masks
True Blood
Near Simon the shadows rippled and Akarin Von Carstein stepped out soundlessly a black cloak flowing around him seemingly making all it wrapped around blend in with the surroundings. As he neared the count he dipped his head although his stance was much less formal than it had been previously around the Council,
"All is in preparation Count" he stated.
His eyes darted slightly towards Peter his expression blank and his hands clasped behind his hands before looking back at his master.
Suddenly and silently another figure emerged from the darkness behind Akarin, a silver haired grinning man, Silibar.
"Heya Count" he said happily causing Akarin to grimace slightly in annoyance.

Simon von Carstein

The Poetic Fiend
True Blood
Simon calmly stepped forward slamming his fist into Silibar's grinning face knocking the impudent vampire down. Without even acknowledging what had taken place he said "Good work Akarin. Have Jerek put in his cage and bring him up to the throne room. He'll be coming with me."


Vampire Lord
True Blood
Niklaus stalks beside Peter von Krahe's mount, his talons digging furrows in the earth with his massive bulk. The walls of Drakenhoff rise before him in a monolithic display of might; legions of the Dead and Damned stride about the countryisde, kept alive through the Black Arts which resonate in his very soul. Or, what's left of it in any case.

Blinking his red eyes, he looks to the left and right, not feeling comfortable in this place; too much power, and its aspirations uncertain. It's too much like giving yourself to a Trap, a place where you cannot escape from if things turn sour. Shaking his head as if to clear it, one claw idly scratches at his horribly scarred face, the right side of his body pocked and marked from grapeshot fire in the battle of Swartzhafen. The gates are near, and soon they're through, and without a word Niklaus would follow Peter, and none but Peter.

When the Vampire step out of the shadows, his hackles rise; indeed he has hackles now! Upon the trip back to Drakenhoff, subtle changes were still transposing themselves upon his physiology. He has grown a layer of fur, which is presumably getting thicker by the day, and he looks even more wolf like than before. His legs are more muscled than before, his breeches in tatters about his thighs, soon to be forgotten in the wayside.

Human speech is now impossible, as his fangs and snout are simply too long, too canine in feature to harbor the sounds that the human tongue requires. Also, along with his wolfish nature is a certain sense of loyalty to Peter, for whatever reason has been called his 'Patron', for even in this animal state Niklaus cannot bring himself to speak the term 'Master'.

Drakenhoff, it is.

Disciple of Nagash

The Perverted One
Staff member
"I am glad to see that Simon has already started making preparations." At Lesa's comments both Rayla and Vekarin look towards where she gestured. In the land surrounding Drakenhof legions of the dead were slowly arriving and forming up, waiting with the patience that only the dead have for further commands. Their numbers were impressive but a sour shake of Vekarin's head showed that it would not be enough.

"We will have to march to meet the legion's of Nagash then," Lesa mused, "we can increase our number from the dead that stil lie in those lands, but whether even that will be enough......." The question hung in the air has Lesa's head darted to one side, her green eyes narrowing as she sensed something.

"I sense it too Mistress," Rayla said, searching in the same direction of the Mistress, "it seems familiar though."
"It should be, it's V'azrin," Lesa replied, "he is casting something very powerful." A thought from the Lahmian caused the massive dragon to turn in the air, streaking across the sky in the direction of the magical surge.

Moments later they found what they were looking for, as they were greeted by the sight of the ancient Necrach assaulting a pair of sealed doors with what looked like the full support of his coven. As the dragon slowed overhead, his massive rotten wings beating powerfully, they look up in astonishment as it's bulk eclipsed the sun.

"Need any help down there?" the amused voice of Lesa drifted down.
Peter looked and the walls of Drakenhof. They were almost completely repaired. Peter hoped that Simon would let him borrow some of his undead masons to repair Swartzhafen. If he ever went back there.

Simon's legions were impressive, but Peter feared that in the face of the hordes of the great Necromancer, they would be swept aside. In the distant sky, Peter saw a great dragon soaring on the thermals. Maybe that beast wold help to turn the tide. Peter doubted it.

Peter approaced Simon and bowed his head.

"My lord von Carstein, I may speak out of place, but I fear our combined forces are not enough to break the back of Nagash's great army. Where are the rest of the Council? Surely we need their forces as well?"

Simon von Carstein

The Poetic Fiend
True Blood
"You worry too much Peter this is only a fraction of my military strength. Forty legions here or on they're way twenty others spread out across Sylvania and another twenty five in the Border Princes. Which I might add has been somewhat fortified since the last time you ventured down there." said Simon calmly.
Simon's final sentence was interrupted by a great horn blast from the west, then the sound of a loud, clear voice calling:
"On behalf of my master; the Vampire Malakhar, I would seek an audience with the master of the castle Drakenhof to discuss a conjoining of forces and the downfall of Nagash."

Get of W'soran

CN's Lord of Masks
True Blood
Akarin glanced towards the west and frowned before turning back to Simon and bowing
"I'll fetch the wolf at once master" the Assassin said before stepping back
Turning he looked at Silibar who had picked himself of the ground the grin still plastered across his stupid face
Oh I hate you thought Akarin to himself, however outloud he said
"Silibar stay with the count incase he needs anything...don't do anything stupid"
"Alrighty Boss" he said grinning although there was an undercurrent of annoyance in his voice.
With a nod Akarin turned and in a few steps vanished into the shadows.


V'azrin looked away from Lesa to see all of this necromancers where still staring upwards
"Keep chanting!" snapped the Necrarch angrily.
The Pale Order bowed their head as one and began chanting once more
V'azrin felt the wards buckle but he needed a final push and he was unwilling to tire himself or his servants too much...he was also unwilling to accept Lesa's assistance.
Suddenly a stroke of genius struck him, reaching out with his magical senses he grasped at the winds that flowed around Lesa's dragon, draining a slight string of power from it
Hope she doesn't mind me borrowing her pets strength he mused as he threw the gathered spell at the doors.
Suddenly the wards flared to an intensity that caused all present to shield their eyes, V'azrin hissed stumbling back in the light more sensitive than the humans...apart from Damek.
The Arch-Necromancer screamed in pain and collapsed to the ground.

When the light had subsided the doors were once again mere doors, all magical protection gone.
V'azrin glanced up at Lesa and smiled
"Me? V'azrin the Eternal need help? I think not!" he shouted although his voice was light and joking
Turning he saw Damek pushing himself to his feet slowly causing V'azrin's expression to take one of disgust
"All of you return to the tower...Damek you stay!"
Damek nodded rubbing his eyes as if they pained him and the other Necromancers bowed before vanishing in an explosion of shadow.

The Necrarch frowned and then looked at the Strigoi
"Now what?"
A Skeletal knight riding glossy, black steed trotted forth from the thick forest. He was clad in heavy laquered plate inscribed upon which were what appeared to be corrupted forms of Dwarfish runes. In one bony hand, he clutched the haft of a tall banner which depicted a cloud of bats tearing the spirit from the body of a man. In the other, he held a large bag, stitched from what appeared to be human skin.
"I am Toraghat," The knight said, hellish fires flickering from his fleshless jaw, " I am the champion and retainer of the great Malakhar and commander of his legions. My master has traveled from the heart of the city of Mordheim, nad as a token of his good will would like to offer you this." He planted the shaft of the great banner into the dirt, and opened the bag. Within were fist-sized chunks of green, slightly glowing stone. All present felt the winds of magic suddenely thrash with a sudden influx of power, and sorcerous energy visibly poured from the bag.
"The finest Wyrdstone from the heart of the cursed city." Toraghat said, his sorcerous voice wavering and distorting under the tides of magical energy. "Should you elect to allow us to join your cause, it will be yours to do with it what you wish."
Peter drew his sword, distrustful of the new comer. The vampire had some experience of wyrd stone, and knew that no good would come of it. And Peter had never heard of the Wight’s master.

Simon von Carstein

The Poetic Fiend
True Blood
"Now now Peter. Stand down." said Simon reaching out and taking one of the wyrdstone chunks in his hand. Its perfectly harmless to us." he looked at the wight "Inform your master that he is welcome to join our enterprise but he must come himself now. The others will be arriving soon and they will want to meet him themselves." He took the bag from Toraghat.
"Very well. I shall fetch my master." Toraghat nodded and spurred his horse back into the trees. Within moments, they saw him again, on foot this time, striding behind a tall, black-armored figure at the head of a regiment of armored skeletons. Another regiment followed behind, then another, until a veritable army was striding in ordered ranks from the dense trees. It was staggering that such a large force coujld have been moved without the knowledge of the council. What stood out most was the figure at the front of this army. To the magesight of all those present, he was fairly wreathed with thesouls of the departed. They clung to every part o of his body, distorting his features and and following his every movement.
"I am Malakhar" The figure said, "Which among you is Simon von Carstein?"
Jason walked out towards the others, grinning He looked towards Simon and peter bowing slightly examining Nikalus his grin widened.

"You took your time"
Jason said glancing at the army approaching emerging from the woods and assembling around the castle the leader striding towards them a turning to Simon he spoke.

"My army has arrived on schedule, Simon and are with in the depths of the castle there are five legions of wrights, clad in my finest enchanted armour making them almost indestructible. Ten thousand spirits and one thousand cairn wrights, they haunt the catacombs of the castle and are ready when needed, more shall arrive soon with more supplys. Thus, I will also need a list of items you would like me to create for the other council members.”

Simon von Carstein

The Poetic Fiend
True Blood
"We'll have to wait until the others arrive." said Simon "But I will require a new hauberk a better one." Moving away from them he approached Malakhar the souls of all he had killed appearing around him wailing horribly. "I am Simon von Carstein the Scourge of Morr." he said calmly.

Disciple of Nagash

The Perverted One
Staff member
As he limped down the dank corridor the Innocence flexed his arm, trying to relieve the pain in his shoulder. The wrath of Nagash had been horrific at Vekarin’s escape, and it had been he who had borne the brunt of the punishment. The Innocence’s rebounded attack had been the reason the Blood Dragon had managed to escape, and what it was not intentional the Dark Lord did not accept mistakes. At least he was still alive, he supposed for that he should be thankful.

Stepping out onto the battlements the Dreadlord was greeted by what to most would be an intimidating size. He stood on the walls of the great gate of Nagashizzar, and before him the Legion’s of Nagash was mustering. Thousands upon thousands of troops stood waiting, the skeletons of men, orcs, dwarves and many other races all arrayed as one force. Around this skeletal core were hordes of ghouls, summoned from around the Sour Sea by their terrible god. Other twisted creatures were also present, spectral horsemen, armoured wights and other creatures of death. To one side he could see three massive armoured warriors, their keepers casting the last enchantments that would bring them to life and turn them into engineers of destruction. It was truly a humbling site, especially when one considered it was no where near the full amount of warriors Nagash could bring to bear.

Sighting some of the other Dreadlords atop one of the watch towers, the Innocence burst into a cloud of mist that streamed up towards them, before coalescing at their side. The Executioner was stood there, watching over the forces that he would command. Next to him stood the Judge, Verdict and Guilt discussing the plans for the approaching attack. As they Innocence appeared the regarded him warily,

”The Dark Lord has instructed we move out,” the Innocence coughed, his voice rough from his damaged neck. At the message the Executioner turned in surprise, a questioning look on his face.
”He has received news that the Blood Dragon has warned them. If we do not march now they may decide move against us and use the dead in their path. We are ordered to take the force we have ready and attack.”


Vampire Lord
True Blood
"It would not be wise to suffer his wrath again, so quickly and so soon. A preemptive strike has its uses, and there is no crime worse than treason. We will march, however an ambush would be more effective than an offensive seige. Let them come to a staging point, we will be there. I would ask that we capture the vampires, or atleast the blood dragon."
Jason sheared at Simon's cheek and walked back towards the castle, his cloak wrapping around his fine form. He entered his room, the floors were covered in black ash which danced in the wind as he entered. The place had a stale silence about it as he entered, Removing his large robe he hung it at the door. His scared body was pale and some of the scars were much deeper than simple flesh and bone, these were glowing, and cut into his spirit and still burnt to this day, almost two thousand years since he was incarcerated in the silver pinnacle. He did not not like being summoned back here simply to wait, when vengeance would have soon been his.

He pulled up the hauberk designs from his tomb and examined them his eyes lit up as deep beneath the castle within the storage chamber Jason had set up 30 skeletons sprung into life and gathered the crates of precious metals and stones, there bones were burnt and there eyes glowed with the intensity of Jason's own, as they headed there masters call.

Thus the forge began, the black smoke spitting into the air as wails of death and dismemberment, echoed throughout the castle, the screams were unnatural and sing out into the cold wind, like an evil orchestra. the clang of metal and the hum of energy sung through the air and chills went up and down the spines of the lesser vampires. Simon smiled deviously and glanced up towards the towers, as hammer throws cracked and smashed in unison through the night air. This would be a master piece of the darkest sort and Simon, was looking forward to Jason's final product.


Master Vampire
True Blood
''Then I don't see the problem, but moving out so soon, makes me wonder'' the Exeuctioner muttered the last part, hefting his great axe. ''You should prepare to go right now then''.


True Blood
Graveclaw turned away from staring at the Dragon back to V'azrin,
“Now we go into the hole and sssssee what sssssskeletonssss Carsssstine hassss buried in hissss domain,” Graveclaw growled. With a terrifying snarl Graveclaw jumped into the hole. Turning back to V'azrin the Strigoi grunted a single sentence.
“Necrarch coming?” before disappearing into the darkness.

Get of W'soran

CN's Lord of Masks
True Blood
V'azrins curiousity was peaked and he couldn't help but wonder what lay beneath them
Glancing up at Lesa he felt a pang of regret having not worked more closely with the vampiress...after all with this war against Nagash drawing to a climax who knew how much longer the council would last.
"Very well...." he muttered to himself before glancing up at the Lahmian once more
"Care to join us Lesa!?" he called out and with a smirk descended into the shadow after to find the Strigoi
"The Scourge of Morr?" Malakhar chuckled. "There must be a fine tale of the earning ofthat title." The Vampire's quaint manner of speech and antiquated style of armor spoke of long decades of isolation amongst his work as time and trend rushed ahead.
"Let us continue into the castle, there, you can tell me how you plan to affect the destruction of Nagash."

Simon von Carstein

The Poetic Fiend
True Blood
"Its just a title bestowed upon me by the mortals of the Empire. Possibly as a sign of affection." said Simon "Before you are permitted to enter perhaps you would care to explain what you stand to gain from joining us. I'm not in the habit of divulging my plans to strangers."

Disciple of Nagash

The Perverted One
Staff member
There was a small thud as Lesa dropped to the ground, her enhanced vampiric body keeping her bones from being shattered as any mortals would have been.

"Very interesting," she murmured as she ran he hands over the the doors. She could sense the lingering effects of the magic that had been there, and it was plain it had been done by someone with a high level of skill. With the door she could sense something magically powerful, and to say her curiosity peaked was an understatement. Willing the dragon to remain where it was she gestured to V'azrin,

"Lead the way."
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