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TVC - Chapter 41 - The Point of No Return

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"As my Master commands." said Müller, bowing again to V'azrin.
He ordered five of the oldest Werewolves to stand guard over the Necrarch before he lead the rest of his cadre away.

For the first time in centuries, the Werewolves of the Old World hunted together. As one they ran through the forested mountains, tracking the Undead through scent.
Their adrenalin built, as the pace of the Hunt increased. A howl was sounded, and the call was picked up by entire pack.

As one the Werewolves transformed, giving in to their wild aspects. Clothes where torn and snarls echoed through the mountains.
The vast majority of the Werewolves where only a century old or younger, and their forms where much more human~esque. Only a handful of them could transform into a titanic monstrosity like Müller. This beastly brood ran at the fore, Müller leading the pack.

The monsters moved at a terrific speed on all fours, devouring the distance between them and Mircea's force.
The beasts emerged from the treeline beside the undead host, snapping their jaws hungrily at the dead flesh.
Müller loped through the force towards Mircea, eager to deliver his message.
"The lord V'azrin commands that you lead the assault. Show the enemy no mercy, even if they offer parley."
Said the Werewolf in his resonating growl-voice to the Von Carsetin.
 

Ghouly

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The smell of blood filled the room as Graveclaw entered behind Vekarin. Lesa gasped and covered her mouth as she saw the state that the Strigori was in, The flesh on Graveclaws face and chest were slashed to ribbons and bone showed through in many places "Graveclaw Ssssssshleepy" the beast rumbled before collapsing in a heap on the floor "Graveclaw Sssssleep now".
 

Sweeney Todd

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Todd gestured Graveclaw to Mrs. Lovette with a slight shake of his head. He watched his fellow Strigoi thoughtfully even as Graveclaw's flesh began to reknit itself together and his wounds healed themselves under the arcane urging of Mrs. Lovette.

It took a few moments before Todd turned back to the Council again, speaking slowly as he did

"I assume, that as the only other Strigoi in the Council, I will be the one to, ah, guide Graveclaw's actions on the battlefield. Any other volunteers?"
 

Gree

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''I already am doing that'' Mircea answered, as he directed legions of skeletons, zombies and wights into position. ''I am attacking with two lines, with the first centered around three great line-breaking wedges to fit into the valley, I am taking the Center wedge, you can go to the front lines then''

In the center came the infantry, skeletons and zombies, flanked by wights and wraiths, ghouls trailed behind. In the reserves where ranks of Black Knights and Mircea's own personal Grave Guard units. Vast clouds of bats circled overhead, and packs of Dire Wolves prowled in the vanguard.
 
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Müller nodded in understanding.
"Where would you prefer to deploy my kin?"
He gestured with his head at the Werewolves.
"You command the battle, and the decision is yours, but if my council can avail you, I might suggest the flanks or vanguard."
 

Get of W'soran

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Karl sighed as he wondered towards where his comrade Micrea would be, surrounded by a skeletal guard he was rather lost in thought as he strode past a treeline.
Suddenly he caught a flash of movement to his left, and in moments had unsheathed his wailing blade, a weaker counterpart to the weapon the Marshal of Sylanvia wielded.
As soon as he turned he saw a shadow standing over two of his guard, with a his the Baron ordered the remaining eight of his guard to attack the shadow, however the noble himself stood back unwilling to attack an unidentified opponent of unknown skill.
As soon as the skeletons attacked they where destroyed, the shadow had been a blur of destructive power however it took a few steps forward into the light and Karl felt his eyes widen in shock.
"Hello my Lord" the blood dragon Marc murmered
Karl's expression of shock turned to one of dark hatred
"Marc! You dare assault your liege lord!" spat the von Carstein
The warrior vampire merely shook his head, smiling sadly
"No my lord, I came to inform you...I shall not be joining the council...however you and your brethern are not yourselfs and I will not follow the Dark Necromancer's orders...if you survive this I will find you"
As he finished the blood Dragon stepped back into the treeline and before Karl could respond his warrior was gone.
Karl cursed angrily under his breath and held a hand before him, for a few moments nothing happened and then a Raven landed on his hand
"Go to my castle of Tuefhof and bring Ademus this message "Assemble the armies, bring yourself and the countess...bring -everyone- to my location, use a scrying and find me my childe! Our master needs us!"
The raven let off a cry and flew into the night.
With that Karl turned and moving at double speed marched towards his brethern.
_________________________________

V'azrin stood in the shadows of his Command Tent (if it could be called that) muttering to himself
"Yes, yes I shall command the whole blood, call all the von Carsteins oh yes...the enemies of the Dark Lord shall fall, weep, cry, yes yes! I can not be stopped I can not be..." V'azrin cut of as he senses the swirling of magic.
The magic build up grew, which should be impossible his wards should stop all the magic of but one being...
Which meant it was that one being...
It was nagash!
With an open mouth V'azrin stared as the shadows took form...and shut it tight again as he realised who it was
"Sentence" he hissed with annoyance.
The shadowy image of the Necrarch bowed its head stiffly
"Master...and I use that word in its losest sense." hissed the shadow
V'azrin stiffened angrily
"Remember your place little brother...what do you want!" growled the elder vampire
The shadow of the Sentence tilted its head before speaking
"You assault the council...perhaps you should call the rest of us for help? Only yourself and that whelp Innocence? Surely with the rest of us the odds would be greater?" it asked
V'azrin snarled angrily
"My orders where not to wait! If you had not already failed then the council would be dead! I am the greatest of the Dark Lords and that includes that fool Judge...and do not underestimate the Kings children!"
The sentence snickered faintly
"Very well...I would wish you luck but surely there is no need then" it mocked before the spell dissapaited.
V'azrin glared angrily at the stop the image had been for a moment before turning around and stomping over to a spellbook to flick through furiously
"How to block that idiots magic" he muttered angrily

Behind the great Scribe Akarin shared a look with Silibar looking less than impressed at their new master.
At the entrance of the tent the elder werewolves snickered at the corpse-vampire's incompetence.
______________________________________________________________________________________

Karl reached Micrea in a mood that was less than his best
"Well honourable Marshal how goes the ordering!" he asked in a poor attempt of casting of his dark mood.
 

Disciple of Nagash

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"So who do you speak of then, brother," the Duke said, his anger barely in check, "or you still playing your silly games. Regardless of what you are doing, it seems you still manage to surprise me though. I had thought you devoted to your wife, yet you sorely lack in protecting her. You do not even greet her now when you enter a room." Seeing Peter's glare the Duke half turned his face,"you are still a whelp and would not even prove a challenge. If you insist on being destroyed that can be done once this situation has been dealt with."

"Yes, there is enough for us to be dealing with, without fighting amongst ourselves as usual," Lesa snapped. Nodding her head at Vekarin she accepted his offer,
"I am glad to see you escaped safely. The Duke is correct, it would make more sense for you to accompany me with your magical plate. I will ensure V'azrin cannot negate it's power, thus you should be protected from most of his spells. With you and Helena it should be adequate to kill his bodyguards and allow me to destroy him." She noticed her daughter and slinked into the shadows and looked at her quizzically,
"Is there a reason daughter of mine why you hide from Vekarin? I trust you will be making yourself useful in the upcoming battle?" As she waited for a response she noticed Zaak was still waiting,
"I will follow you in a moment, it will take some time to explain."
 

Gree

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''It goes fine Karl'' Mircea said. ''Simon has alot of troops to properly position'' he commented. He then turned to Muller. ''Go at the vanguard, their you will be best placed'' he commented as rank after rank of undead shuffled past.
 

Trevy the Great

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"Ah, young Peter. I remember your face from the fortress of blood. Knowing your eagerness to join the Knights of the Rose you will be pained to hear of their destruction at the hands of the Dreadlords during the fall of the Violet Citadel. But do not be so eager to throw your life away on my account, it wil take a far greater warrior to defeat the fabled Red Duke."
"They were not all destroyed," Victarias offered quietly, "a handful still remain in my service. They pledged myself to me after your... death."
Victarias looked up, locking eyes with Vekarin. It was not a look of love or commitment, but almost cold acknowledgment. Vekarin drew close to her.
"Ah, Victarias, handmaid of Lahmia. How things have changed since you were in the service of the just queen Neferata, since you walked upon this earth last?" Within Vekarin's deep, echoing voice there almost seemed to be the hint of a sneer.
"It is most unfortunate that we must conduct ourselves and display our undying love for one another in front of our friends and allies. However, I must insist; you have something most precious to me in your possession, and I require it back before this battle is joined."
Victarias hesitated for a second, her brow furrowed, calculating.
"I have no such object." She said finally.
"Perhaps you should treat your wife with more respect, brother." The Duke interrupted, drawing the gaze of Vekarin's baleful eyes and the blank, evil stare of the Mask of Skulls.
"You would know a great deal on that subject, wouldn't you, brother." He hissed.
"And that brings me to the dealings of your daughter, Lesa, the who one of whom I spoke earlier, impetuous Duke." He turned his stare onto the near-cowering form of Requaurah.
"Perhaps she would like to tell you now of her dealings in your absence, before we consider her usefulness in the upcoming battle."
 
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Peter was once again humbled before the the ancient Vampire Lord.

"Lord Banespike, perhaps, if you will pardon my forwardness, it was fated that I did not join your Order and fall during the Siege of the Violet Citadel. Wish to fight alongside you in the future, and will be the first pedge my bladeto the second founding of the knights of the Rose. Many of my friends joined when you visited the Blood Keep. It would be an honour to fight to avenge them."

Pter as nole, but no fool he knew when he was out classed in combat.

"And Duke, I meant no offence to your person. I wished only to defend Lord Banespike's honour. Please excuse my rudeness."
 
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Quezalat, standing a good distance from the Council's meeting place, delved deeply into his mount's mind. Assessing any and every smell the giant lizard had taken in for the past tenday, he selected the scent of that damnable Archmage. Hunt, Larekoth. The Cold One stalked off, muzzle sniffing cautiously, with the Oldblood following warily behind it.
 
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Zaak nodded at Lesa's words, but remained a few moments more. He did note care to wait for a response from Sweeney (and assuming it would be in the affirmative anyway) and turned once more to leave. Once more in the doorframe, he turned around and spat back the comment, "They will not wait until we finish our discussion to attack, friends. I would suggest you put aside your differences just while we muster for the upcoming battle, as it draws upon us faster than we can tell. I will take my leave, and whether or not you postpone your inquisitions I hope you will be ready when the time comes."

Looking to Jason, he said, "You may accompany me shortly, if you would like. No doubt extra hands would help equip us for the upcoming fight. Small cells would greatly benefit from magically enhanced armor and weaponry. Either way, be there when Lesa comes; she did ask for the both of us." Turning around again, he jogged to the workshop.

When he arrived, five of the wraiths were there. The table was still clear, bar one large mound of the black material. He walked around the table once or twice, re-examining the pile, before getting to work. As his attendants prepared the room's bountiful equipment for smelting, he began lacing spell after spell through the material. His intricate hand motions and vocal inflections bound the winds to his will, and a chill breeze of pure magic picked up in the room. Taking on Zaak's signature violet luster, the material shimmered and shook. It was ascertainable as of yet what Zaak was supposed to be doing, as his enchantments seemed to be all out of order and random. He was, however, a masterful smith despite his insanity, and he knew exactly what he was doing.

Suddenly, with a forceful gesture, the pile hurtled from the table into one of the just-prepared smelters. As it began to smoke, he changed the tone of his incantation. The glass-like material warped and melted, taking on a liquid form. Calling over a wraith with two fingers, he commanded the phantom to hold the material still. It magically pulled it into the air, keeping it liquid, spherical and static. Chanting all the while, Zaak accessed it piece by piece, heated it with the winds of Chamon and Aqshy in tandem, and hammered it out on an anvil into vague armor-like shapes. Not yet caring for the intricacies as they would be dealt with later, he used all of the molten material and formed it into a full suit of armor, including gauntlets and a helmet.

With intrigue, he noticed how well it took to being soft and malleable. Inspired, his magic took a different angle. He infused it with many, many properties in this rough unshaped form, more than he would normally dare. As it became saturated in magic, it began to warp, growing out of shape. With a quipping stanza of the elongated spell, he bound it tight once more. Then, with a lilting refrain, he laced an intricate network of magic throughout the armor. It began to warp and wiggle, almost gelatin-like. He marveled at how much magic this material could absorb, and laughed with glee. As he worked, the Coven of wraiths gathered and supplied their own wealth of magical energies to speed the enchantment along. Crackles of violet lightning ricocheted from the armor to the walls and floor, enunciating Zaak's incantation.

As he crescendoed, the armor gave completely under the manipulation of the spell. Collapsing into a pool, it seeped towards the edge of the table. Undeterred, Zaak made a sweeping gesture with his hand and the spreading film of liquid swashed up from the table. Once more shaping it into a hollow, vaguely humanoid form, he allowed it to retain its liquidity as he neared the climax of the incantation. Now speaking words of power so strong they burned his tongue, lips and the air before them, the liquid armor seemed to coalesce into a sturdier form. As he uttered the penultimate syllables, ripples criss-crossed the surface like a lake in a rainstorm.
\
The final vowel sound flew from his mouth and plummeted into the ersatz breastplate, causing the greatest ripple yet to fly across the surface of the armor and a shockwave to blast through the entire room. Sent flying back against the wall, Zaak's ears did not hear the punctual clatter of the armor falling, but rather a splashing sound. Staring at his creation, he laughed as he saw the puddle spreading across the floor. It did indeed appear to be a failure, but appearances were not everything. Extending one arm, a spike suddenly stabbed up from the center of the pool. Arcing towards his outstretched hand, the semi-liquid armor slicked upwards from the ground and smoothly coated his body. As Zaak's erratic mind flicked between many ideas for motifs, the armor similarly warped. As eventually it formed into a more recognizable shape, Zaak decided the smooth effect would suit best. With a sharp command within his mind, the armor fused solid. Staring at his blank, rounded, colorless armor, he nodded.

He needed to test it out. Twisting his mind, the armor reacted to his will. He withdrew the arm-plates and gauntlets into the breastplate, only to have them erupt again as a pair of new arms. Retracting these also, he manipulated it again, and a huge axe protruded from his torso. Grasping it in both hands, he swung it around, watching its magically rich wake leave visible traces in the air. He contorted the axe into a sword, then a dagger, then once more into arm and hand protection.

Another thought occurred to him. He did not know how much more magic the armor could hold, but it seemed to have a boundless reservoir. Enchanting it once again, he bound it to his mind and his mind only. In that same act, he anchored the magic to his mind so that it could not meet the same untimely demise as his last suit.

Contented with it, he awaited the arrival of someone who could help him test it out properly.
 

Ghouly

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"Sssstupide Sssstrigori" Graveclaw growled as he rose from the Ground, Mrs Lovette's spell renewing his strength. "Graveclaw issssss not a beast of war that you can sssssssimpily guide into battle". Graveclaw Cracked his neck, "Wheresssss the Carssssstinesssssss Graveclaw wantssss to eat their heartssssss"
 

Get of W'soran

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V’azrin frowned as he flicked through his spell book; he had come to a section on enchantments which stirred something in his memory, casting aside the book he swooped around on Milosh…or Innocence as he had been renamed.
“Give me your blade Kings get!” spat the Necrarch his eyes alight with the coming of a new idea…or an old one, it was difficult to guess in such a fractured mind.
Milosh nodded and in a single smooth action had unsheathed his sword and held it out to the Necrarch.
V’azrin smiled, the Kings Brood may be an arrogant sort but Milosh’s personality had undergone correction…Sentence had did his job well and soon the younger vampires of Sylvania would undergo the same treatment.
Allow his mind to refocus on the present the Scribe gazed at the blade, slowly he murmured a spell and ran his finger along the bared edge, for a moment nothing occurred, then runes along the bared metal flared brightly caused the withered mage to hiss and stumble away from it.
As the light dimmed it became evident that bright runes glowed along most of the sword’s blade, apart from the end where it was merely unmarked metal.
V’azrin shuffled over to the sword again and this time grasping the hilt and took it from the other vampire’s hand
“Listen closely kings childe…this is dwarf forged…look see the runes that glow so bright?” the Necrarch asked, excitement making his voice rasp louder than usual
“Forged by the living to destroy the dead oh yes, no doubt you have noticed that the…what do you name it…oh yes the banishment blade...is quite destructive against our fellow blood suckers!”
V’azrin moved a small distance off over to one of his work tables knocking all its contents onto the floor, before laying the blade carefully on the smooth surface.
“Yes, yes at the moment this sword destroys the dead…but it does not end them, not our kind for we shall return again and again with the correct preparations and knowledge!”
Spinning around in an almost maddened form of energetic movement the Necrarch seized a book off the floor, one he had been previously browsing through, flicking to the correct section he held a small picture towards Milosh
“On the blade there are runes, these runes work in concert to achieve their goal however if not all are working together then their goal can not be completed yes? As it is the bottom of your blade does not flare…not glow…no rune is shown no enchantment rules this section of metal and as such one of the collection of magic’s that inhabits the blade is not active and so does not assist with the overall task…the overall reason” hissed V’azrin, half rambling as his excitement took hold.
“But I…oh yes me the greatest of W’sorans disciples can reactive such crude dwarven tricks and the effect shall be extreme for those short mortals are so good at making weapons if at nothing else! I shall make this blade so that no Vampire shall arise from its blow ever again…it shall destroy them completely and totally!”
Glancing over his should he looked at Akarin, Silibar and the werewolves
“Go outside and keep watch for those idiot council members, no doubt the Lahmian slut will be assaulting our position soon with a guard of mediocre vampiric scum” he spat
Then turning he looked at Milosh and smiled coldly
“But we shall be waiting”

Turning back to the blade he began his work, the winds of magic gathering around his frail form as the Dark Lord Sentence began the rebuilding of the Dark Lord Innocence’s blade’s rune.
Without a backward glance the von Carstein assassins and werewolves alike fled from the tent, distancing themselves from the Necrarch’s madness.
 

Sweeney Todd

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"And now you finally acknowledge me as your brother-in-darkness." Todd replied to Graveclaw with a very rare half-smile of mirth that was as fleeting as it was slight.

"Don't worry about the Carsteins. They are coming to us even as we speak, so you should save your strength for when the time comes." He said with a relish. The shadow of the beast that passed across his visage banished all doubt that the fairly civilised(in comparison) Todd was truly a Strigoi. Turning away, he next spoke to the armored form of the Red Duke.

"My good Duke, whether you wish to duel Peter or not is your choice, but if you do I suggest you wait till the battle is over and done, for now is not the right time."
 

Disciple of Nagash

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Despite Vekarin's words and her own curiosity into what her daughter had been doing, Lesa knew that Zaak was right,

"We have not the time to go into what or what not my daughter has been doing. It will not be long before they march upon us and there are still some preparations to make. However," she continued, fixing her daughter with a glare, "if afterwards I find out she has been doing certain things which I warned specifically against, then I will personally deal with it.
Vekarin, Helena, I will be back shortly. As soon as I return we will set off in pursuit of V'azrin so make ready."

Walking out of the room she followed her magical senses to where she could sense Zaak hard at work. Watching as the amour moulded itself to its creators will she spoke,
"An impressive piece indeed. Hopefully what I require of you will not be beyond your talents then. Did you perhaps notice during our last battle with the Dreadlords that a certain few of the commanders had upon their hands an artefact? It looked akin to a glove made of silver, but when placed upon an enemy and activated it force raw magical power into the unfortunate. One of them nearly destroyed the Duke.
I require something similar. However without wishing to boast, they will have to be much more durable to be able to sustain my powers. I want an artefact that I can feasibly force my raw power through, that I can use to grasp that bastard Necrarch with an effectively dissolve his body to less that dust. Can you do this?"

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

"It seems we have overlooked one very important thing," the Duke suddenly interrupted, "If we are all to go off in small groups to assassinate the Necromancers of the Carstein horde, who is to control the remaining forces we have? There are still a good many dead under our control that will need to be supported whilst they hold of the enemy forces until our tasks are complete.
I can lead such a force, but I am no necromancer. Some of magical talent will need to sustain the army."

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

"Indeed we shall be waiting," Milosh replied, a cold look on his face, "I have no doubt the upcoming battle will be the final for many..........
 
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Zaak's piecemeal brain was far too fixated on his own interests to take note of Lesa. He had been busying himself at throwing fireball after fireball at the wall, allowing them to ricochet into him. As he watched, the armor absorbed the spell without so much as a smolder. Not only that, but as they fizzled out, their power was not lost. Rather, it filled the armor, fueling its other enchantments.

It was resilient, rubbery, magic resistant, flame and cold retardant, emanated a fearful aura and bound the undead to his side stronger yet. Of course, not all of these enchantments could be active at once. He had managed to entwine them so carefully that he could, at a whim, pull any one of these to the surface. It was just as clever as he thought, and he thought it was quite clever indeed.

However, his attention could only temporarily be distracted, even by something with unending possibilities. He was needed elsewhere. The lady Lesa had spoken, and Zaak had missed it. Thankfully, one of his attendants had indeed been listening. He moved over, touched Zaak's arm and relayed the message instantaneously. He nodded and muttered vague affirmations, before mulling over possibilities. Straight away he wanted to use this wonderful new material again, but that would not do at all - it was a magical insulator and absorber, not conductor. He needed something that wouldn't hold anything back, and indeed would amplify Lesa's already immense powers.

He also needed to act quickly. Clapping twice, the Coven disappeared through the walls and floor, seeking out some magical staples. He began to talk very quickly, without a thought whether or not Lesa could keep up. "What we really need is something to let you not only funnel your own power through the glove, but to funnel power from all around. Indeed, if some kind of vacuum could be created by your own initial blast, we could potentially create a constant suction, drawing winds from the whole battlefield into and thus out of the glove. The dark magic alone generated by bloodshed would be enough to decimate any normal man, but with the entire spectrum we could no doubt decimate any creature. We would need some fulcrum to activate all eight colors, or perhaps only seven, yes light could be too dangerous. Of course, if you felt like you could handle it..." He paused briefly, leaving the tantalizing comment handling on the air. He did expect a response, but he didn't wait for one.

"Nevertheless, we will need Warpstone, and..." From here his speed became so unintelligible, not one word could be gleaned. However, he slowed down at one point, where he picked up saying, "too much power would be bad, very bad. I couldn't have that to my name. I will make it, surely, but it will need to be laced thoroughly with Warpstone. I could likely do it without such a high quantity but I could never leave it mundane. To wear it for too long will corrode you. There must be some incentive to reduce use..." Once more his speed increased beyond understanding.

The wraiths began to return, carrying bits and pieces. He began to work quickly, magic flying from his fingertips. So great was the flow of his magic that violet light shone blindingly brightly from between his fingertips. The wraiths brought forth piece after piece of various unknown materials, all of which fell into the blinding light between his fingers.

As he went, he called out, "Have you any other requirements? I need to know whether you want that Light part of the spectrum, and if there are any other needs it should serve I'll be happy to oblige. So far this will be an instrument of destruction alone, but if you would like I could make it something more... I can see it working to amplify every spell you cast, although there would be side-effects... What will you have of it?"
 

Trevy the Great

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"Perhaps I could assist in the upkeep of such a force, son of Abhorash. I have some proficiency in the necromantic arts and I am... not as vital to this council as some here." Zosz rasped from the shadowy corner of the room. he had entered behind Vekarin.
 

Sweeney Todd

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Todd stared silently at Zosz for a while before speaking again

"I have no objections to such an arrangement. However I will be keeping the Patisserie itself and some of my forces for when, not if, the Carsteins attack from the rear. I trust you know what to do in that situation?"
 
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"I too will keep command of some of my forces. My remaining mounted forces will fight with me. However Zosz may take command of my infantry," consented Peter.
 

MasterSpark

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Following the general concensus to let Zosz handle the majority of the Council's remaining forces, Helena added:

-"My own forces have unfortunately been forced into a withdrawal due to the current state I'm in. I won't be able to provide you with anything outside of Ashlotte and myself."
 

Trevy the Great

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"I believe that the situation would merit a defensive strategy. We cannot hope to assault the traitor forces on their own terms and hope to win, however our position is perfect for a stand. If we go into battle with this plan, we have a much greater chance of breaking their attack." Vekarin counciled.
 

Disciple of Nagash

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"He is right," the Dike agreed, "our army must remain on the defensive or risk over stretching what little forces we have. Once you all succeed in your tasks, the hold on their army should be enough for the combined dead and elven forces to counter attack." Looking over at Zosz he dipped his head in agreement,
"It has been a long time Zosz since I fought in the same side as you. It will be interesting to do so again. Well I believe we should make ready for no doubt they will be on us before long. Good luck to you all." So saying the Duke exited to prepare himself and his army for what would now doubt be a gruelling battle.

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

"Handle the Lore of Light?" Lesa's cold tone was noticeable, "I mastered that Lore many years before you even existed. I can "handle" it, as you so eloquently put it. But you are far underestimating my strength. My full power unleashed all at once would annihilate everything near by, and I have not yet discovered a substance that would be capable of conducting such power all at once.
As for warpstone.....no. I have encountered it's taste once before, and with its malevolent energies I nearly destroyed everyone on the Council.
I want only what I asked for, which is an artefact that I can focus my power through, but is as durable as you can make it."
 

Get of W'soran

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Magic danced around the Necrarch as he stood over his worktable, the odd spark of condensed arcane magic flashed through the air of the room, one of which crashed into a stack of books setting it aflame.
V’azrin murmured words of power to summon a flood of energy from the winds of magic, and then he swiftly switched from Nehekharan to a less dark tongue for his incantations. This was in no way true rune crafting, it would renew the old magics rather than create a new enchantment entirely; in this case a reactivation was required not complete creation.
Which is a shame, I can quite the artificer V’azrin thought to himself
The words that tumbled from his rasping throat now where a slightly twisted form of Khazalid, deformed in a way that would allow the Nagashi Dark Lord to use the Dark Magic he wielded so easily as a source of power to empower the Dwarven work.
Milosh glanced warily at the Necrarch as the magic took place, whilst he trusted the immortal mage it was another thing to have absolute trust in the power he wielded.
After a few more moments the Necrarch grasped a dagger from within his robes and ran his blade quickly across his palm, allowing his vampiric dark blood to drip onto the blade, as it did the runes flared once more but this time the whole blade became alight with enchanted flame.
V’azrin smiled; the runes along the length of the sword where now complete, where one had been previously blank a Dwarven rune now shone with a brilliant glow.
The blade will never be the same again, the layman may see no difference in the original enchantments and this renewed version…but that rune was not meant to be manipulated by that which it was created to destroy. It shall never be the same and who knows…perhaps over time it shall become something greater…something containing a touch of what Nagash created all those millennia ago. he thought to himself idly.
Grasping the hilt he turned and strode over to Milosh,
“Here Innocence…this weapon shall serve you well…the council will know fear against this ancient blade” Sentence purred.
Almost with reverence the Necrarch handed the von Carstein the sword.
As Milosh took the blade V’azrin stepped back, dark balefire burning in his dead eyes
“You will remain here Innocence! When the Lahmian slut comes you shall be here destruction, you shall show your old lover her death when she comes hoping to kill Lahmia’s greatest scholar! I can not afford to die! This world needs my memories, if I die then so does a peace of our past, our kinds heritage! I shall live and that replaceable bitch can pass into the history books.” spat the elder vampire.
 
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"I may be able to assist you with that, mistress Lesa" the shadowy form of Jason crept through the room as Lesa turned to him. " the Fabric within this cloak of mine could handle your raw power. I could create you something a glove a pair perhaps? I must as why the secrecy form the rest of the council?"
 
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