TVC - Chapter 49 - Geheimnisnacht

[Gree]

Purple-black wolves made of dhar lanced out, created by the vampire in a barrage of magical energy. The fire and the wolves clashed in a pyrotechnic display of fire winds and the power of dark magic. When the smoke cleared Mircea’s runesword shot out of the smoke to impale the Verdict through the shoulder. The Dreadlord snarled and reformed his blade of fire, striking at Mircea.

The vampire lord blocked the blade with his right gauntlet, but only so slightly. The blade began to cut into the burned metal when Mircea leapt away, cloak whipping out, it caught the Verdict in the gut, sending him staggering back. Mircea fell back, the blade of fire whipping out. He tried to move back, but the top of the blade cut through his chest armor to score a deep wound across his chest. The vampire lord snarled in annoyance, but found he could not access the energy to heal. The Verdict was blocking him.

‘’This staff was given to me by Lord Nagash himself, It cannot be cut, netheir your magic nor your blade can save-’’

The Dreadlord looked like he was about to continue, but Mircea did not give him the chance to say anything more, instead rushing forward, before suddenly sliding down and kicking the Dreadlord in the face, breaking his nose with a satisfying crunch. The Verdict launched back and Mircea shoulder tackled him into a stone wall.

Hairline cracks were raised along the wall as Mircea raised his runesword to drive it home into the Verdict’s body, but the Dreadlord punched him in the stomach….hard, causing him to stagger back.

The Verdict caught Mircea in the way with the staff, sending him flying back. The Vampire lord recovered and blocked another blow from a blade of fire before taking stock of the situation.

The Verdict himself was concerned. He had already suffered a deep slash, a shoulder wound and a broken nose, among other things. At this point it was clearly time to stop playing around.

Then came the word from his lord.

STOP THEM NOW

And then the Sentence.

‘’Verdict we must finish this now, the count is little effort, can you make it to the ritual and stop the resurrection?’’ the message came.

It was time to stop playing around.

He reached out with his powers and sent a spike of mental thought into his opponent.

So worthless

Mircea gasped and fell back.

So weak, you will die, here, alone and broken your empire will die, your bloodline extinguished forever. The Dark voice hissed in Mircea’s head as images of humiliation and despair clouding his mind.

He saw his own broken body, smeared in filth and dismembered. He saw the legions of Nagash triumphant, that disgusting strigoi leaping around, so smug, he saw his entire family, gone his armies obiliberated everything lost……….

The Verdict healed himself, flames flickering over his body, healing what he could. He sighed, creating a blade of fire around his staff head, creating a halberd-axe of fire and flames.

This vampire lord had proved to be a fierce opponent, but secretly weak like all of it’s brethren before Lord Nagash’s gloriously eternal power. The Albino raised his staff-fire-halberd over Mircea’s form to end it.

A blade shot out and black blood hit the floor as the Verdict staggered back, a massive slash ripping apart his flesh from shoulder to hip. The Dreadlord coughed up black blood.

‘’H-how?’’ he gasped out.

Mircea gave him an arrogant smirk.

‘’You forget! A deity stands before you, you and I-‘’ he rushed forward, runesword ringing off the Verdict’s staff in a collision of sparks and flames.

‘’-Are are different levels!’’




The Verdict fell back, Mircea’s runseword flashing blazing silver arcs, purple-black energy collecting around the flaring runes of the blade. The Dreadlord was being forced back.

‘’How-’’ he gasped.

‘’My mind cannot accept such base lies from a inferior like you with fetid blood in his veins, therefore my mind rejected such a ridiculous story you conjured up!’’ Mircea proclaimed, slamming the Verdict back.

The Dreadlord cursed and sent out a burst of fire that divided itself into three flaring dragon’s heads. The flaming heads quickly came towards Mircea, closing around him and closing around to entrap him in a fiery prison.

A sudden blaze erupted on the Verdict’s back as Mircea leapt high in the air to avoid the flames landing right behind the Verdict. The Carstien lord was suddenly hit by this new blaze. He stumbled back, cloak and form smoking with the sudden heat. His skin started to blacked. Mircea leapt to the side, near a pillar, away form the sudden magical blaze that was formed.

‘’I did not leave my back unprotected, I have already placed wards to save it.’’ the Verdict said. However those wards are a one-use only. He thought.

The Carstein lord came in again, blade flashing as the Verdict blocked it with his staff. The Dreadlord twisted, causing a brief explosion to form. Fires circled around his right arm as he plunged it into Mircea’s gut.

Pain and heat spread through Mircea’s stomach, like a fire consuming him. The von Carstein gritted his fangs and brought his heat back, before slamming his skull into the Dreadlord. With a gasp of pain the Verdict fell back, blood falling from his forehead. The vampire freed himself from the Dreadlord’s impaling hand and brought his swords around, the tip of the runesword cutting through his chest.

It was a thin wound, nothing that would bother the Dreadlord much, but it stung his pride. Snarling the Verdict sent a blast of fire at Mircea.

The von Carstein leapt behind a pillar. The Verdict twisted his fingers and the fire sniped around, like a living snake, to attack the vampire lord behind the pillar. Mircea raised his cloak up, countered the flames.

Then the Verdict came in close, staff covered with flames as he grasped it two handed in an attempt to impale the Carstein lord. Mircea ducked under the overhand thrust and brought his blade up to counter.

It was blocked.

The vampire lord’s face was a bestial mask, his eyes a blazing red as the two traded blows, runesword ands staff flashing into aetheric blurs of energy. Mircea leapt back in the air, recovering his fall on a nearby stone pillar and launching himself forward, using the moment to push the Verdict back. The sheer force of the blow send chips flying in the floor as the Verdict tried to stand his ground, but was forced to the floor on his back. Mircea reversed his blade bringing it down to impale the Verdict.

The Dreadlord twisted and turned with amazing agility away from the descending runeblade. With one hand be branched himself and backflipped into the air, catching the vampire lord in the jaw. A blaze of fire covered one fist as he punched forward, hitting Mircea in the side of his jaw, burning and blackening skin there, the vampire lord twisted, and hit the Verdict in the throat with the hilt of his sword, before trying to impale him again.

The Verdict leapt back, a ring of fire formed around his waist and began to push out rapidly in all directions. Mircea leapt high in the air, blade raised in a two-handed chop, the ring of flames missing barely in inch under him. The fire launched past him as he landed, bringing his swordlbade down as he did so. The Verdict quickly brought his staff into a defensive guard position across his chest, flames rippling along the length.

There was a flash and black blood fell to the floor.

The Verdict fell back, holding the two halves of his staff, a massive black wound coming from his right shoulder to his right hip. Blood came to the ground as the retreated unsteadily.

Mircea remained, both hands on his swordblade.

‘’Your defense cannot stand up to me when I bring the full force of my blade down, It’s been so long using Vlad’s blade, I forgot about the kind of enhancements this blade held.’’ the Marshal mused

‘’You boasted about your staff earlier! It is broken! Take that as a measure of your inferiority.’’ Mircea sneered.

‘’You-you’’ the Verdict huffed, not out of a need to take breath, but out of anger. ‘’You v-vampire…..!’’ fires sounded him like an immense aura, completely shrouding his form.

‘’DIE! PERISH BEFORE THE MIGHT OF LORD NAGASH! PERISH YOU! YOUR ARROGANCE AND YOUR MISRIBLE FETID BLOODLINE!’’ the Verdict roared as a massive wall of flame covered the entire room.

Fire exploded out of the Northern Tower windows, orange-red flames falling out into the battleground below. Ash and fire billowed out from the tower in a pyro-spectacle that lit up the night for miles.

 

[Knightofni]

Another skeleton crumbled to dust under the weight of Saul’s attacks; he’d lost count of the number of the mindless constructs he’d hacked down, and none had yet managed to present him with a challenge. Pathetic, Saul beheaded another in contempt, he wasn’t usually arrogant enough to think himself superior to any opponent but the lack of any fight presented by the Dreadlord’s hordes was frankly insulting.

A new skeleton lunged at him with a spear... pitiful... Saul dodged the lunge, trapping the spear between his side and his arm and drew the undead soldier towards him; any living soldier would have let go of the spear to evade Saul’s retaliation but the mindless enemy lacked anything other than the necromantic drive to fight. Saul crushed the undead soldier’s skull in his hand, the shards of bone turned to dust as they hit the ground; and Saul could feel the necromantic life-force of the skeleton extinguish as the rest of it crumbled.

Sometimes he wondered what the point of necromancy was... these skeletons fought worse than goblins.

Then something on the edge of his peripheral vision piqued his interest.

Another skeletal figure; except this one stood nearly a head taller than the others and was clad in heavy armour, styled in some forgotten archaic way; and it wielded two sizable ancient weapons. Saul grinned; finally it seemed that this battle was going to get interesting. He watched with apathy as two of the sycophantic von Carsteins from earlier surged forward to fight the skeletal figure and were casually executed, the Wight barely broke its stride as it dispatched the first and then the second vampire with minimal effort.

Saul snorted, both amused and disgusted by the deaths of the two von Carsteins... it surprised and entertained him that the pair of them were capable of holding a sword the right way, let alone that they would be arrogant enough to think that they could challenge the Wight... He briefly wondered what Mircea would say if he could have seen such a pitiable performance; something positively scornful no doubt.

As if sensing Saul’s scrutiny, the Wight looked straight at him; its merciless eyes filled with green balefire and an unconcealed malice.

Saul grinned back at it; finally he’d found an enemy worth killing.

 

[Gree]

Fire and smoke swirled around the wrecked room, the roof had fallen down, blasted to bits be the sheer force of the Verdict’s magical fire blast. A blast radius blackened and burnt the stones all around him. The albino form of the Dreadlord was revealed, wisps of fire coming off from his wound covered body, the flames turned into wisps of smoke and floated away in the sudden wind breeze.

The night sky was open, the eerie green moons shining down upon the Dreadlord. The Verdict cast his eyes over the heaps of blackened rubble around him. He spotted the form of Mircea’s runesword lying, half-buried.The Verdict limped over to the pile. It was clear he had to finish off the vampire soon, he could feel the tendrils of his master’s power urging him on, like the feelers of a leech sucking at his soul.

‘’There you are.’’ he rasped, forming another blade of fire. He raised it.

Then there was a rustling sound. The Verdict turned around only to be confronted by a large black shape. For a moment he was confused, then something stabbed him deep in his chest. Mircea appeared behind his thrown cloak, the Carstein’s hand piercing the Dreadlord’s chest deeply, right below the sternum. The Verdict looked on in shock at the blackened and brunt form of Mircea.

Most of the Vampire lord’s hair was gone, burnt off, his formerly pale white skin was now crisped and burnt, with whole sections of skin gone. His fanged gums showed cleanly through one side of his face were his cheek had been brunt off. His cape was gone, thrown as a distraction.

‘’You fell for it!’’ Mircea cackled. ‘’The most basic trick in the book!’’ he crowed triumphantly.

He slammed his other fist into the Verdict, throwing the Dreadlord back with the sudden force. The Verdict hit a nearby pillar, crushing it to bits with the sheer force of his impact. A burst of fire radiated out at Mircea. The vampire lord dodged and came lunging forward, transforming in mid-leap as he did so. He was now a burnt and blackened wolf, with its fur burnt off and sections of muscle showing through. He looked less like an alpha predator and more like one of the raised zombie dire wolves.

He came upon the Verdict, leaping forward, fanged jaws closing around the area between the Dreadlord’s shoulders and throat, tearing a chunk of muscle away, blood blood came spurting from the wound. The Verdict snarled and struggled one arm gathering the winds of magic. He pressed it into the side of the dire wolf, punching Mircea in the side, tearing out a chunk of flesh as he did so. The wolf leapt back, transforming back into human shape in midlfight as he did so. Part of Mircea’s armor and clothing was torn away by the fire-enhanced punch, while other patches smoked from the earlier huge explosion.

The vampire lord steadied himself on his heels and drew his remaining sword at his belt, the blade flashing in the moonlight as aetheric power gathered along the blade lining it with purple electricity. The Verdict snarled lunging forward, a fire blast hurling forth in the shape of as screaming skull. Mircea sent out a burst of purple electricity in response, the two spells colliding other with enough force to send both combatants staggering back.

The Verdict skidded back on his feet, as did Mircea, the Vampire lord lunged forward, sword pointing front, the Verdict snarled and did the same, a blade of fire appeared in one hand. They both angled their blades and……..

…impaled each other through their chests, colliding with a thud.

The Verdict looked up at Mircea’s burnt and wrecked face. He felt the white hot pain tear thorough his body. Normally the Dreadlord’s undead form would have taken impalement with ease, but the blade was enchanted with dark curses. He would be severely damaged.

‘’You……..might….have……stopped…..me……but……you…will die alongside Vashanash.’’ Verdict said slowly.

‘’-An meanwhile my lord will resurrect me you are doomed….v-von Carstein.’’ the Verdict hacked up a bit of black blood.

Then Mricea began to laugh, it was a cold, cruel, mocking sound. The sound of someone who held the trump card.

The Verdict’s blade of fire disappeared.

Purple-black energy began to swirl around the Vampire Lord’s wound, closing it and repairing the damage. The Verdict’s eyes widened in sudden shock at the new healing affect.

‘’W-what? H-how?’’’ he stammered out.

‘’This blade-‘’ Mircea rasped out in an amused tone. ‘’-Is Mannfred von Carstein’s blade, the Sword of Unholy power, it draws power from the blood of who it cuts, in effect it eats magical energy.’’ he explained.

Slowly realization dawned in the Verdict’s flaming eyes. The fire left his features.

‘’And this power, can be channeled to repair and heal my body, even more so with the moons above. From the light of these moons no foe can stand against the carsteins and live.’’ Mircea nodded upwards.

‘’You bastard heathen.’’ the Verdict grunted, but could not move with the dark blade lunged through his torso.

‘’You should show more respect to your god.’’ Mircea replied, withdrawing the sword. Black blood spilled from the wound as the Verdict staggered back weakly. Mircea drew back his hand, flattening it straight out.

He lunged forward, impaling the Dreadlord with his arm right through the gaping sword wound in the Verdict’s torso. Mircea’s arm burst from the back of the Verdict as Mircea shoulder slammed the Dreadlord forward.

The Verdict flew through another pillar, then a table and then the stone wall. He and Mircea shot from the tower, propelled by the sheer momentum of the Carstein lord’s charge.

‘’This fight was never in question you insect! Your god lays judgment on you!’’

The Dreadlord’s mouth opened, but no words came out , only black blood.

‘’ -And that judgment is Death!’’ Mircea laughed as they both plunged down six stories from the ruined North tower into the battle below.

 

[Knightofni]

Naked steel clashed as Saul and his skeletal adversary traded blows back and forth. The Wight attacked in a cumbersome but powerful manner, whilst Saul sought to out-manoeuvre his opponent using his speed and agility. The blades wielded by his undead adversary were marked with malevolent runes, which glowed balefully and the air around them thrummed with sinister energy; to Saul it was like the blades themselves were actively seeking to harm him.

With lethal intent the Wight swung low. Saul stepped back and deflected. The Wight swung a backhanded attack hard towards his head. Saul ducked. The Wight brought a blade crashing down in an overhead attack. Saul dodged sideways and rolled way; and the dance of death began again.

It stared at him as he closed in, its eyes alight with cruelty and invidious intentions.

Saul feinted one way, then another; and lunged towards the Wight’s shoulder. It was too slow to avoid the attack, but Saul’s blade was turned aside by its thick shoulder plates. The failed attack left Saul exposed to reprisal and he barely managed to bring his other sword up in time to divert the ancient blade that was arrowing in towards his heart. The blade’s cold steel bit into his shoulder as it slid from his own blade; tearing flesh and muscle as it went.

Merde. Saul swore loudly, and leapt back. A thin trickle of blood ran down to his elbow and dripped onto the lifeless earth as he gritted his teeth and forcibly channelled some of his, albeit limited, necromantic power into closing the wound... yet another scar. The knowledge that his opponent had drawn first blood galled him; ok, he himself couldn’t actually draw blood from his opponent since the Wight didn’t have any but the symbolism still applied.

He glared at the Wight with seething eyes. No more would he underestimate his foe; clearly it still retained some of its former skill. 1-0.

As Saul closed in again, the dance of death became more frenetic this time; Saul stepped up the speed of his attacks, trying to exploit the Wight’s lack of agility and slower reactions. Saul’s twin blades glittered in the light of Morrslieb as they moved in diagonal arcs towards his foe, but they were met by the Wight’s own glowing blades. He swung low to attack the Wight’s vulnerable legs. The Wight blocked with one blade and its second passed over Saul’s head as he ducked under the effort to decapitate him.

Saul dropped to one knee in response to the attack and lashed out towards the Wight’s midriff; it was quick enough to parry; but wasn’t able to block Saul’s other blade as it speared through the Wight’s left knee. Like any other foe, it stumbled and fell back; allowing Saul the time to get to his feet and press home his advantage. 1-1.

Lesser undead constructs usually collapsed if the necromantic field holding them together was penetrated but such a powerful opponent required more powerful magic and as such was unlikely to be seriously damaged by Saul’s attack. All the better.

Steel clashed again. And again. And again; as Saul rained blows down upon his enemy as the fight’s momentum swung back in his favour. The Wight, though not severely damaged by Saul’s attack on its knee, was pressed onto the back foot for a moment as Saul continued his furious assault. Relentlessly, Saul’s blades sought to end the Wight’s unlife, and for every second the fight wore on, the more of Saul’s attacks got through the Wight’s defences; time and time again his swords would pass the Wight’s own blades and yet be turned aside by its armour.

Saul growled in frustration.

He spun one his blades in the air, a basic trick; one that any seasoned, living swordsman wouldn’t give a second glance to... but the Wight reacted, one of its blades came up to block Saul’s spinning blade and left a gaping hole in its defence... a chance which Saul was not about to pass up. He drove his other blade downwards as hard as he could; it punched clean through the Wight’s chestplate, and cleaved through the space where a living soldier’s heart would have been before forcing its way out the back of the Wight’s armour.

The Wight staggered back, Saul’s sword still embedded in its vacant chest cavity; it glowered at him with malicious eyes, and Saul resisted the urge to gloat a little... that sort of behaviour was for Mircea not for him... striding forward, he raised his other blade to finish the Wight off...

And then it all went to hell.

Something behind him exploded. Really exploded. Not like a cannon might explode if its loaders buggered up, but like the Gunnery School in Nuln might explode if someone lit its entire powder reserve. A really, really big explosion.

What the f*ck.

Saul spun around on his heel, just in time to see a rather large chunk of what used to be one of the Abbey’s towers strike in him in the face... Oh bugger.

Then everything went a little bit black.

 

[Simon von Carstein]

As the Wights attacked Simon spun on the spot drawing Animessor as he did so before nimbly leaping into the heart of the horde striking off heads with surgical precision. He was too fast for any of the wight blades to touch him and Animessor gave him a formidable advantage against them. As he eliminated his foes one by one he moved closer and closer towards Sentence.

Suddenly there was a massive explosion from the north tower of the Abbey raining ash and shapnel down upon the combatants. Sentence looked alarmed for a second "that fool Verdict will destroy us all!" he cried out. "Speak for yourself old man!" Simon sneered.

 

[Knightofni]

He groaned. Something hurt. In fact, everything hurt. A lot. The side of his face was unusually numb, which didn’t particularly bother him at this point because if he had groaned then he was alive... which, in the grand scheme of things, was infinitely more important.

So he wasn’t dead... well, more dead than he already was to start with... which was good.

With the discovery that he wasn’t dead came the discovery that he was laying flat on his back, on something rather uncomfortable. He tried to move his head to have a look at what it was, but it hurt. It hurt a lot. He would have just left it but the discomfort had now developed into another pain, and when he considered that he had enough pains already he decided that he would have to endure more pain in order to relieve some of the other pain... in short, it was going to hurt either way. Oh joy.

He gritted his teeth and turned his head to see what he was lying on; another skeleton. In all honesty, he’d had enough of bloody skeletons but something had to be done. He reached underneath himself with his left arm... which hurt, a lot. More, in fact, than his legs did; but not quite as much as his neck did, or his back... and immediately discovered why his back hurt so much.

He had crushed the skeleton he was led on, and its splintered ribs had pierced his back and he was currently wearing the skeletons ribcage like some sort of grotesque corset piercing. Lovely. He tried to swear but a sickeningly sharp pain shot up the side of his face; the side that had previously been numb... it wasn’t numb anymore, of all the pain that he felt right now, this was definitely the worst.

And just when he thought that things couldn’t possibly get any worse... they did. A whole lot worse.

A heavy, booted foot slammed down onto his sternum and resulted in a nauseating crack. He didn’t really have the words to describe this kind of pain and he wondered briefly whether he wouldn’t be better off dead. Forcing his head up, he looked skywards... straight into the baleful eyes of a horribly familiar Wight.

A Wight which looked rather angry. Well in his opinion it looked rather angry; sometimes it was hard to tell with skulls because they lacked the necessary muscles to be able to contort their faces and show emotions, but there was definitely something about the way it was glaring at him that suggested it was angry. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that his sword was still stuck in its chest cavity. Or maybe it just had one of those faces that just looked angry all of the time... either way, he decided, it was very definitely angry.

When things weren’t going his way... they really weren’t going his way.

The Wight glared at him, and he glared back; only difference being that the Wight had a rather nasty-looking sword in his hand and its tip was closer to his neck then he would like it to be. Ahh hell. Sparing him one last malevolent glare, the Wight thrust the blade downwards in a decapitating motion; that was bad, very bad; he grabbed the nearest thing he could reach and his hand closed around a smaller chuck of the Abbey’s former tower. Sweeping his arm over, he thrust his hand and the chuck of stone under the tip of the Wight’s blade.. Halting it’s downwards movement inches from his neck.

The Wight just looked at him.

Then it raised its blade slightly, and thrust downwards again; this time the blade glanced off the side of the chunk of stone that he held and buried itself in the earth, barely six inches from his face; He had to admire the Wight’s persistence, even if it wasn’t a particularly convenient time to do so. However, it probably wouldn’t miss a third time so he had to do something... and do it rather quickly.

Remembering that he had possessed a knife, he was relieved to find that he was still in possession of that knife; it was belted at his waist and hadn’t been thrown clear during his intimate moment with a large chunk of the Abbey’s northern tower. Wincing in pain from the movements, he drew the knife from its scabbard and thrust it as hard as he could manage into the back of the Wight’s knee joint.

The Wight staggered, lost its footing and then stumbled backwards; allowing him the chance to roll away from it, the agony of the movement was almost unbearable... there wasn’t a part of his body which didn’t hurt more than the last time he registered that they hurt. He got gingerly to his feet, his face now felt like it was on fire so he ran a finger down the side that hurt to establish why.

Big mistake.

Half his face was missing.

Not entirely half, but still a large part of it definitely wasn’t there; a whole chunk of his cheek had been scraped off by the collision with the chunk of stone, in places it had been torn off right down to the bone. There was a gaping hole in the side of his mouth where the skin had been shorn off and at least two, if not three of his teeth were missing; he also noted that his jaw-cheek joint was stripped to the bone and he was missing half of his left ear.

Oh the love of all that was unholy... was there nothing that wouldn’t go wrong today?

Not that he had a lot of time to worry about it. The ominous sounds of movement from behind him told him that the Wight had regained its footing and was probably angrier than ever. He gazed around for his remaining weapon, and found it under a small pile of stony rubble; it felt good in his hand... like all the pain that he felt was suddenly distant; it was still there and he certainly still felt it, but now he felt more complete.

Turning, sword in hand, Saul faced the oncoming Wight with a renewed determination. He tried to grin at it but with half his mouth missing and the other half hurting too much it was more like a really ugly grimace.

Round two... and this time it's personal.

 

[Disciple of Nagash]

As something rocked the ground Lesa gritted her teeth. The lapse in concentration had nearly cost her control, and at this point that would be very bad indeed. Somewhere on the ground below, through the crackling energy a faint voice floated up.

"Mum! Mum! The battle doesn't seem to be going well. There are Dreadlords and undead everywhere!"

"Get Simon!" Lesa cried back, "drag him here by his blasted curls if needs be. If this magic doesn't get used shortly we will all die!"

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

Running through the battle faster than the eyes could follow, Requrah searched frantically for Simon. Whatever the real reasons she was here for, she did not want to die, and if her mother was unable to control the magic then there was no one here that could.

As she ran past Saul she saw in shock his damaged face and the monstrous wight that faced him. With a quick side step she kissed Saul on his remaining cheek, whispering a quick good luck, before she had gone again, faster than even he could see.

 

[Lord of Ravens]

"CARSSSSSSSTEIN!"

A howl rang out across the battlefield, causing many of the combatants to lower their weapons for a few seconds.

Over the Eastern hills, silhouetted against the green moon, a bestial form apeared. The darkness around his feet seemed to writhe, as if alive.

Graveclaw loped towards the battling undead. His clan of ghouls swarmed behnd him. He smashed into the rear of the Dreadlords' lines like a charging bull, barely slowing as he tore through the stinking mass of Zombies.

The ghouls hacked and slashed, their claws and fangs rending their opponants putrid flesh.

Graveclaw continued through Nagash's forces, and did not stop as he barreled through the Carstein line, knocking the thralls flying. He ripped open the doors to the Abbey's central chamber, where he saw the straining form of Lesa. The magic in the air crackled across his rippling muscles.

"Missssstressss!" he hissed, "What issss happening here?"

 

[Gree]

‘’This is the end!’’ Mircea cackled as he and the Verdict hit the ground with a massive cloud of dust kicking up. Skeletons were crushed underneath the two rapidly falling bodies.

Mircea’s fangs extended out to tear at the throat of the Verdict, ripping through to drink the thin black blood that served as the Dreadlord’s vitae. It was not much, but the remaining power filled the vampire lord with incredible strength. He ripped his arm out in triumph, the nails lengthening into talons. Over the battle his triumphant laughter could he heard. Underneath the corpse of the Verdict began to combust and burn into ash. The death of the Verdict vibrated through the winds of magic, making it present to every sentient undead on the battlefield.

Eventually there was only a blackened skeleton.

''In the end, you were beneath me'' Mircea wishpered to the skull.

Mircea crushed the skull beneath his feet casually as he got up. All around him the skeletons stopped, as if shocked by his sudden entrance. Mircea stretched, felling pain consume his skin. The vampire lord then noticed his severe wounds and massive burns that covered his form. He healed himself with excess energies from the blade, the Verdict’s blood helping to close the wounds and turn the skin back to normal.

But he lost his cloak, he would have to retrieve that later.

Rapidly he turned into a cloud of bats that fluttered over the battlefield and reformed into Mircea again. He breathed deeply in, more out of confront than anything at all, the battle had drained much from him.

He then felt something reach at his soul as he jerked around suddenly.

‘’You.’’ he hissed out of the side of his vision.

The Shade simply stared at him.

‘’Who did you expect? Your mother?’’ he said sarcastically, before Mircea could reply to the insult the Shade rammed on hand into his chest. With one tug the Shade seemed to flow into the Vampire.

Yes

Mircea’s eyes blazed quickly into a jet black before returning to red. Quickly the Shade examined his new body, ignoring the pain that filled it. It was good to have a physical form again after all this time.

He extended his arms, calling upon the winds of magic. Only Morrslieb had allowed him to make this kind of posses possible, helping return him to a more complete form. It allowed him use of his old magics, added to Mircea’s own, but not all of what he once had. He swept Mannfred’s blade through several skeletons, absorbing their energy into him. Arcs of green lighting sprayed from his fingers, incinerating nearby skeletons as he continued on.

 

[Get of W'soran]

Panic filled the mind of the Sentence as he saw Simon advance.

”Verdict! VERDICT?” he bellowed across the winds of magic but he was unable to find the mind of the other Nagashi which meant...

No he couldn't be dead, these von Carsteins, these CHILDREN couldn't possibly defeat the Dreadlords of Nagash....it was inconceivable.
And yet here stood the leader of the Kings line grinning in the face of an ancient Necrarch.

That was when the realisation hit him.

I can't win

The thought struck him and sent his mind reeling, how could he lose? How? They where only younglings and thin-bloods!
Then he remembered something.

V'azrin stood before him, his form slightly ethereal, an expression of annoyance on his face as he stared at the younger vampire.
”Do not underestimate them Sentence...aside from the get of Abhorash they are all far younger than you and yet most would deal great destruction upon you.” the other vampire said his voice sounding faint, this was due to how they spoke.

Despite being able to see V'azrin before him the other Necrarch was actually many miles away communicating via mental projection.

Sentence merely smirked in return.
”Come now master” he said his voice dropping with contempt “they can't really stop Nagash.”

V'azrin ignored the others tone and looked away.
“Perhaps Rahotep” he said using Sentences real name. “Be careful...if I fail in my plans to control the von Carsteins then you must kill the young count, I sense he could be the ruin of us...of Nagash”

“Whatever happens Nagash will triumph Scribe” Sentence sneered back

V'azrin shook his head.
”I am not so sure.” he said sounding distracted.

Sentence snarled realising what was on his masters mind.
“Do not allow that Lahmian to manipulate you!”

The Projection of the Elder Necrarch faded away for a moment before returning
”I'll deal with her as I wish and beware the count, he carries the strength of Vashanesh” he said sternly before allowing his form to fade away completely.

Sentence had of course dismissed such things, even after V'azrin died he had known it was due to Lesa and even if she was young compared to he she at least had been from a time before Sigmar.

Yet now he understood what V'azrin had been trying to say...that age didn't necessarily matter or perhaps that these Council Members where special and he had specifically mentioned the Count afterall.

The Necrarch knew he had to work quickly, he couldn't flee or Nagash would destroy him but neither could he allow himself to waste too much time against this other vampire.

Sentence stood back summoning shadows to him as he began to teleport away, to travel towards the ritual and disrupt it.

”I don't think so!” Simon shouted, the retinue of spirits that surrounded him roared forward to wrap themselves around the Necrarch seizing him.
Sentence let out a cry of dismay as he blasted the spirits off him only to see Simon charge him.

Reaching into his robes the withered vampire threw his magical dagger at the count, the blade punching into the von Carsteins shoulder and throwing him off balance.

In that moment the Necrarch hurled his hands forward dark lightning smashing into the Spirits around the count, but the power was too great to absorb and instead was deflected.

The Dark Lightning caged the two vampires, blasts striking both but the Necrarch poured more power into the spell through desperation burning himself even as he seared the Count.

Simon however moved forward slowly, ignoring the pain as his eyes blazed with Balefire, Animessor being slowly raised.

”DIE!” Sentence Screamed losing all rationality as he saw the other vampire was still capable of movement.

Impossible! The Agony should be too great!

 

[Simon von Carstein]

Calling on the last of his reserves the Dreadlord threw everything he had at the struggling Simon.

Simon saw the increased power heading straight for him as he felt his skin starting to melt off his face. With a howl of rage and pain his face changed taking on the more bestial traits of his race, and then the onslaught hit him.

Sentence smiled with relief as heard the young Count's scream fade into nothing. He visibly relaxed his shoulders sagging.

When suddenly! Something caught his eye. He looked up in horror at Simon falling from the air sword raised above his head let out a primal roar "UHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!" paralysed with shock the Dreadlord did nothing as the vampire landed right in front of him and brought his sword down.

The two vampires stared at each other with differing expressions. Simon's was cold and emotionless. Sentence's was a mixture of shock and puzzled. Sentence felt blood dripping down his face and noticed his vision seemed to be fading. Simon watched as slowly Sentence's head slowly split open closely followed by his neck and then the trunk of his emaciated form.

Before the Sentence's body could split into two down the middle Simon raised Animessor and spinning round brought it across.

Silently Sentence fell to the ground in quarters. Simon resheathed Animessor "I reckon I've done you mate." he said to the corpse raising a hand and launching a ball of crackling dark energy into the remains. The ashes floated into the air as a cloud and were scattered by a gust of wind.

 

[Get of W'soran]

Karl snarled as he commanded a few of the lesser thralls to fall back under the carnage, despite the magical and skill advantage the vampires held the mindless undead where too numerous to hold forever.

Suddenly he heard shouts of shock and the elder von Carstien leant forward over the wall to gaze at the von Carsteins below.

They all stood gazing at each other, some with looks of surprise and confusion others with grins.

A soft voice spoke behind Karl.

"Baron." it greeted.

Karl turned feeling uneasy at Akarin's arrival, never had he been able to sense the other approach, however he kept such feelings hidden.

"Yes Akarin?"

Akarin bowed deeply, the perfect image of the dignified servant, behind him stood the grinning silver haired fool Silibar.

"The army has became lifeless with many of the weaker constructs collapsing, it seems the Dreadlords hold has failed."

Karl nodded but held back any feeling of joy until he knew the situation was under control.

"Akarin go find Simon, Silibar find the Marshal." he commanded.

Akarin bowed once again.
"As you command." he mumured before vanishing his usual way.

Silibar nodded.
"Yes sir!" Silibar said happily before disappearing like his master.

Karl nodded and turned to a third Assassin, he didn't know the vampires name.
"And you, take a few men and find Emilie and Sariah."

The Assassin bowed and vanished as Akarin and Silibar had done before him.

Turning he saw the form of Ademus standing a short distance away.
"Ademus! Round up everyone capable of the slightest spell and attempt to assist Lesa, if she loses control we all die. Akarin will bring Simon straight to you. Go!" he commanded and the other vampire walked off silently.

Karl spun on the spot and strode off to search for Saul.

 

[Knightofni]

Agony tore through his body as he ducked under another vicious swing; the Wight’s heavy armour protected it as Saul lashed out with his own blade. All sense of skill and grace had leeched from the fight, only rage and destructive desire drove Saul to continue. Every movement hurt; every thrust, every parry and every riposte were battles in themselves as Saul struggled to force himself through the pain.

The Wight attacked again; this time a diagonal slash that aimed to cut Saul from shoulder to hip. Saul reversed his grip on his sword and allowed the Wight’s blade to slide harmlessly off his own before he planted his foot on the Wight’s midriff and sent it stumbling backwards. And in that second he realised that he wasn’t alone.

Requarah? What the hell are you doing here?

He saw the fleeting look of shock and distaste in her eyes at the sight of his battered face.. Is it really that bad?.. She moved swiftly and, begrudgingly, gracefully to his side to whisper a quick good luck in his remaining undamaged ear and then she was gone. Saul blinked stupidly, momentarily confused by her sudden disappearance and the momentary distraction nearly cost him the rest of his head as the Wight’s blade slashed across his vision and only Saul’s vampiric reflexes saved him as he jerked his head backwards.

Sh*t.

A thin trickle of blood ran down to his collarbone as he stepped back; a fresh new wound ran almost parallel to the ground across his neck but it was only a scratch in comparison to his fate had his reflexes been slower. Saul grimaced and strained for a moment, forcing his limited necromantic powers to close up the latest wound, all the while the Wight was moving in to attack again; the fire in its eyes ablaze with fury.

The Wight lunged, two-handed, towards Saul’s heart; but in its over-eagerness to kill him it overstretched itself, and left itself vulnerable; a chance that Saul was not about to miss. Saul dropped his shoulder to avoid the attack and then stepped inside the Wight’s reach, grabbed its wrist, and smashed his elbow into the Wight’s jaw; his grip prevented it from falling back.

He dropped to his knee and swept low, knocking the Wight off of its feet and then lifted the Wight up across his shoulders; still holding the wrist of its sword-arm Saul spun around and threw the Wight as hard as his pain-wracked body could muster.

Saul grunted in pain and slumped for a moment, his hands on his knees as he forced himself to continue, to finish the job, to defy the pain and achieve victory.

The Wight smashed into a few of its skeletal cohorts, their bony frames splintered by the force of the impact and the Wight itself crashed into the sodden earth; its legs shattered under the weight of its own fall.

Saul dragged himself forward until he stood over the fallen Wight; it stared icily up at him, though the balefire in its eyes was dimmed as the necromantic magic that held it together faltered, the malice in its gaze was fading and it spasmed pathetically in an effort to continue the fight. Its sword-arm moved limply and Saul stamped down on its elbow joint, crushing the Wight’s arm.

He spun his sword in his hand, so that the tip pointed downwards directly over the Wight’s chest, placed his other hand over its pommel and, in one fluid movement, plunged down.

The Wight’s eyes flickered for a moment; in fury and in pain, and then they dimmed further as the necromancy that held the Wight together began to leech from its frame and seep away into the blackened soil. Feebly, it raised its unbroken arm and its bony fingers closed around Saul’s throat, but they had no strength left in them and it was nothing but a contemptible last attempt to harm Saul before the magic that held the Wight together faded completely.

Saul reached down; his own fingers closed around the base of the Wight’s skull and they lingered for a moment as Saul watched the last vestiges of (un)life haemorrhage from his skeletal foe before he wrenched them upwards, tearing the Wight’s skull from its neck.

He stared, a painful grin across his face; into the Wight’s empty eye sockets for a while, savouring the moment of victory, before casually tossing the skull away and unleashing a feral roar towards the skies. Victory had come at a price though; he was battered, bruised and bloodied and was fortunate to be able to walk away from this.

Exhausted, both physically and mentally, Saul retrieved his swords from the lifeless body of the Wight and got to his feet; albeit a little unsteadily. He flexed his hands and, with but a murmur, drew the winds of Ulgu in around him until they coalesced into a hooded cloak; tapping into the winds was the easiest it had ever been and even in his fatigued state Saul had little trouble manipulating them.

He drew the hood up over his head to hide his ruined face, and then began to pick his way through the rubble of the Abbey’s tower.

 

[Simon von Carstein]

Nar-Zuul looked up from his incantation as Graveclaw burst in "THE RITUAL HE'S HERE TO STOP THE RITUAL!" He thought alarmed "NOT NOW!!!!!!!!! WE'LL NOT ALL PERISH BECAUSE OF AN IGNORANT BEAST!"

He shouted out "KILL THAT MONSTROSITY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" pointing at Graveclaw with ethereal finger. A figure leapt at Graveclaw and barreled into him slamming him into a wall. Jerek roared at Graveclaw pummeling him and then hurling him away from the vessal and Lesa.

Graveclaw leapt up and roared back at Jerek in defiance as the huge hulking monster that Jerek was picked up his huge war hammer and began moving towards the huge hulking monster that was Graveclaw with a new sense of purpose.

 

[Get of W'soran]

Akarin appeared next to Simon silently, he grimaced slightly seeing the injured form of the Count and glancing around at the smoking hilltop he realised the battle must have been only just finished.

He coughed politely alerting Simon to his presence.

"Count, The Baron believes that Lesa is losing control of the ritual, all free vampiric and mortal mages under Ademus are attempting to assist the Mistress but we must go now. I can bring you directly there via Shadow-Travelling." he explained his voice carrying tones of urgency.

____

Silibar found Micrea a short time after Akarin had found the Count.

Wearing his usual grin he waved at Micrea.

"Hey Marshal! The Baron wants me to bring you back to him quickly, the Ritual is going crazy." he said happily.

____

Karl frowned seeing Saul wrapped iin a hood of magic, shrugging he ignored the curiousity at the sight and walked over the rubble with ease.

"Ah young Saul, I trust you are well?" he asked although it was clear the other vampire wasn't in prime condition. "We must hurry back to the Abbey, even with our victory against the Dreadlords all may be lost...It seems Lady Lesa is having trouble with the Ritual." he said glancing back at the Abbey.

 

[Knightofni]

Ah young Saul, I trust you are well?

Saul glanced up at the approaching vampire; his hood shrouding his face and it took all of his self-restraint to fight back a sardonic laugh... well? yeah I'm well; well battered... instead he nodded a respectful greeting.

It seems Lady Lesa is having trouble with the Ritual.

That would explain Requarah's sudden appearance earlier, if she was looking for Simon. The urgency in Karl's voice was not lost on Saul, it was clear that things were not going particularly smoothly and if Mistress Cromwell was having difficulties then it could be potentially disastrous for Simon's plans.

Saul nodded in understanding and made to follow Karl back to the abbey; in truth he was more interested in having a moment to sit down and recuperate than he was in these new developments but part of him wanted to make sure that he had not been battered for nothing.

 

[Ghouly]

Graveclaw growled as Jerek boar down on him hammer raised, dropping to all fours the Strigori ducked underneath Jereks savage swing. with a savage roar Graveclaw lunged forwards with all of his strength, smashing his forehead into Jereks jaw, With a pitiful groan the Varghulf tipped over onto its back unconscious. "Who'ssss Next!" Graveclaw roared thick ichoric blood running from the gash in his face.

 

[Get of W'soran]

Karl and Saul arrived in the Abbey a few moments later his eyes catching on Graveclaw he glanced at Saul and whispered.

"Stay back, if he tries anything flee."

Stepping forward he held out his arms and glanced at Nar-zuul

"I think you may be overreacting." he told the Wraith a tone of warning his voice although he shook his head slightly.

Truthly he would have done the same in different circumstances but a fight in the Abbey was too dangerous at the moment.

"Strigoi, Lady Lesa is busy and I would ask you to step away...there is no reason to fight at this moment." he said calmly wearing a friendly smile on his face as he watched the degenerated vampire.

 

[Simon von Carstein]

Simon looked over to Akarin as his flesh healed "Yes........ take me there now Akarin. This is the beginning!" he gestured to the damaged area around them. "I suspect Nagash is down two dreadlords." he commented.

 

[Get of W'soran]

Akarin bowed.
"Then our position is only the more secure my lord." he said softly taking a step forward to place a hand on the Counts shoulder.

Then the two vanished in a swirl of darkness.

____

They rematerialised in the shadowy corner of the Abbey, their arrival silent, the Assassin kept a hand on Simon's shoulder for an extra few moments incase he had not overcome the dizziness of Shadow-Traveling for the inexperienced before released him.

The scene before them was obvious, Jerek lay still severly injured whilst Graveclaw bled slightly a few feet away.

Karl stood with his arms held out trying to difuse the situation.

Akarin whispered quietly to Simon.

"The Strigoi seems to be interfering my lord."

 

[Ghouly]

Graveclaws turned on Karl "Sssssstupide Carsssssstine thinkssssss he can trick Graveclaw!" he growled "Thissss time Graveclaw not fooled!" both hands shot out and seized Karl by the front of his shirt "Ssssssstart talking or Graveclaw will eat your face".

 

[Get of W'soran]

Karl raised an eyebrow and shook his head slightly.

"That was foolish my friend." he said sadly.

Akarin strode forward from the shadows as he saw Karl being siezed, he closed his eyes and sent a quick mental message to those he was connected to.

A few moments later more than a dozen vampires in black materialised from the shadows in the room, each unsheathing their blades as they circled Karl and Graveclaw.

Akarin himself unsheathed both the Blade of Day and Night.

"Release the Baron!" Akarin snapped angrily at the beast.

 

[Gree]

The Shade turned to spot the vampire coming up. Quickly he accessed Mircea’s memories.

Silber, one of Akarin’s lackeys, and a foreign Nipponesse who apparently always shut his eyes. He had the most annoying tone of voice and seemed to take nothing seriously. Regardless he mattered little.

‘’Very well, I shall come’’ Shade/Mircea said, copying down Mircea’s customary arrogant tone perfectly.

 

[Get of W'soran]

"We got to go for a little jog through the Shadows first!" he exclaimed happily siezing Micrea by the shoulder and traveling as is custom for the Assassin Order.

Silibar's smile faded for a second as the shadow traveling seemed odd...silently he cursed the stupid moon and its affects on the winds of magic.

They rematerialised just outside the circle of Assassins around Karl and Graveclaw, Silibar chuckled slightly unsheathing his sword.

"Hmm seems we arrived just in time for the opening act." he said glancing at the Marshal.

 

[Ghouly]

Graveclaw's eyes narrowed "Fine you want.....CATCH!" snarling Graveclaw hurled Karl into Akarin and Simon, dropping before turning and charging towards Silibar and Mercia, both of whom dodged to the side as graveclaw Lept up ontto the Wall and made for the opening in the roof. "Kill the Bastard!"Akarin shouted.