Nazca Requiem (Open)

[MetalDrago]

(See recruitment thread (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?t=19989) for details.)



The smell of death and wondrous decay filled the air. The darkness shrouding the fallen city of Valinatal was palpable. The Narenhad, or burned lands, was forsaken by Raiaera. No one wished to live there. Yet now there arose a great dark citadel, a temple of a great and evil power that once was though lost. The taint of N’Jal had fallen across the Narenhad, perpetuated by Her two Dark Paladins, MetalDrago Scorpio and Lorenor V'halkulus.

A small village had sprung up around the obidian temple to the Dark Thayne. It was here that the pride of the Paladins, their army of Darkness, the Forsaken, had their base. MetalDrago, the more reptilian of the two Paladins, stood on a balcony overlooking the entire Narenhad. He was enjoying the scenery and thinking about the future of the world. After everything he’d been through, he was still so very far away from his goal. A world dominated by the Will of N’Jal was still but a fleeting dream.

The Paladin was brought from deep within his reverie by approaching footsteps. Considering the long strides, it was most unlikely to be his somewhat shorter commander, Lorenor. He turned on his heel, and came face to face with someone he thought was dead. “Maera…”

Age old green eyes met his own. “Quite a change of heart you’ve had, turning on everything you’ve ever believed in within the last year. I’m truly shocked at your ability to turn on everything and everyone you knew.”

“Demoness… no… Nightmare Thief. I thought I might see you again one day, but never in this world.” The Dark Paladin hissed under his breath. He’d never been a friend of Maera’s, but he’d never had reason to hunt her down, either. “So, what is it you want from me?”

“Truth be told, I’m only hear to check up on my adopted daughter, the stand-in leader of the Silent Hand. Makira was such a sweet, dear child, after all.” Maera stretched out languidly before pointing the fingers of her right hand at MetalDrago, less than an inch from his neck. For a moment her entire arm seemed to shimmer, and suddenly MetalDrago had a Prevalida sword at his neck, more than close enough to draw blood. “And if you somehow cause her death, I’ll make sure you regret it.”

With that, the Nightmare Thief vanished. “She’s gotten better… since last I saw her.” He clutched his neck with one hand, the warning sinking in. He snapped his fingers, and his two personal bodyguards came from the shadows, sheathing their own weapons. He waved his hand, and they disappeared. At least she’d had the sense not to kill his bodyguards.

Her warning meant little to him. He had never done anything to directly cause her daughter harm. On the other hand, Lorenor had teken the girl on a number of missions in which she had risked her life. It was not inconceivable that the woman had been referring to them as a pair. It was during this particular line of thought that everything began to change.

A great gaping hole in reality opened up in front of the Dark Paladin. It was like a mirror into another world. Grassy plains, deep rainforests, and something most peculiar… One the ground, surrounded by miles of wasteland, was a design not unlike some of the murals he’d found in Concordia, back when he was living there. It was the design of a giant spider, spread out over miles of land on a continent in the Southern Hemisphere of that world. “N’Jal!” MetalDrago couldn’t help but yell, jumping into the portal.

The doorway closed immediately behind him, leaving his bodyguards behind on Althanas. They could do nothing but watch. They looked at one another, silently agreeing to stand watch until their master returned.

[Duffy]

Duffy dawdled on the corner of Market Square and Cavendish Avenue, one of his favourite haunts in Scara Brae. From his vantage point, a convenient wooden crate filled with some long forgotten contents and discarded to the firmament, he could see the stream of people coming into the densely populated and bustling flea stalls and the guards and pickpockets skipping between them. The sun shone, as it always chose to when rigorous exercise was required, and the pungent smell of a thousand busy bodies rose into the air and hung like a dense, somewhat erotic musk.

Distracted by the myriad faces and entertaining snippets of gossip caught over the heads, the young troupe master had long forgotten the intent behind his being here, perhaps he had to meet someone, or had come on some small errand for the infamous Ruby and her early morning temper, or perhaps he’d simply headed out into the busy day to clear his head and ‘connect with the people’. He half supposed he should care, but idly sighed and shuffled from leaning on his left elbow to his right. What an awesome day, the statement rattled about his halcyon touched mind, not knowing the foreshadowing sense of adventure that began to brew in the atmosphere, churning the clouds and breaking boundaries.

“Roll up, roll up! Gatchis quagmire pie right ‘ere! Freshly baked, fressssshly baked, roll up roll up me lovelies!” The boisterous cries of someone altogether too familiar to the youth echoed past, and as he settled his eyes on her he smiled, the Akashiman twang in her voice adding gall and premise to her sales pitch. Lilith looked up at him from under her bonnet and winked, before waving one of the aforementioned ‘delicacies’ about in the air like a domesticated flail. Chuckling to himself, Duffy was promptly reminded just what exactly went into the pies, and was thankful he would not be foolishly buying on.

It all came back slowly, his purpose, his intent, and his motivation for being out in such laminable heat. Being a child of the streets, naturally he was out to earn a living in a more lucrative and exciting fashion than cleaning linen or waiting on gluttonous nobles in pompous houses. The rest of the troupe finally faded into view, he noticed them now he knew what was what. Pete whistled innocently on the opposite corner, juggling a copper coin and trying to blend with the rest of the ‘street urchins’, all unknown to them, but most likely thinking and doing exactly the same thing. Blank stood on a balcony overlooking the square in the distance, the window the same level as the statue at the square’s centre. His red visor glinted in the sun’s rays, and the sword catching the heat as it rose let Duffy knew that all the pieces of this grand game of chess were in place.

Somewhere in the hustle and bustle there would be a very angry red head, clad in a tight fitting suit of leather mail and hopelessly brandishing a sword which was blunt as her wit and half as forgiving. Someone had come up with the brilliant idea of a fake heist, whereby Ruby, temporarily known as Mad Eye Ginger would threaten a merchant. Duffy and Blank would swoop in, chase her off, and be rewarded handsomely for their ‘good deed.’ At the back of his mind, spinning around in the luminescence of The Aria, a little voice was singing of irony, mistakes and ‘no chance in hell.’ He whistled under his breath as he leapt of the crate and vanished into the liquid movements of the citizens of his beloved home. He was inclined to agree with himself this time, but the practice would be worthwhile. They were certainly slippery enough to get away quick enough.

The aromas of the spice stand, cake stand and tanner swooned him as he walked towards the meeting point. Luscious aromas mixed with the raw nausea of a true man’s craft, if he couldn’t handle it, he was sure Ruby would be most uncomfortable in the busy environment. Serves her right for coming up with such a hair brained scheme! He passed a rotund man waving a fish about and proclaiming the coming of a Fourth Messiah, he wore nothing more than a loin cloth and spatula tucked into a rather convenient nook; the thief smiled, shook his head and turned the corner to face the tall statue of an Arl he didn’t care to care about.

Ruby smiled back at him, leaning preciously on the edge of the fountain’s width. The stone was as old as the market itself, covered in vines, cracks and various etchings placed by bored children and brash adults. He’d spent an afternoon not so long ago reading them all out rather loudly, too much tuts of disgust and bemusement. “Well well, look what we ‘ave ‘ere!” He flew his arms wide in a welcoming warble and advanced towards his matriarch, his ironic queen. “Lookin’ fine Miss Rubeh!”

“Shut it!” She snapped, rasping through her teeth with a fake accent he couldn’t place. No doubt it was part of her ‘persona.’ He rolled his eyes, making a passing comment about method actors and their ilk. “Are ya ready ya scum? Did ya get the goods?”

Duffy deadpanned his expression and waved his hands with a hesitating stare. “Enough, enough, no need to ‘blend in’. Go over to the stall and do your bit, Blank and the others are ready, we can get this escapade underway!”

She wobbled off, blatantly uncomfortable in her chaffing leather plates and bandolier. In all his years he’d never seen something so amusing, his laughter lifted up over the roar of voices and ‘democratic’ exchanges between customer and merchant. For a moment, the city smiled, and then she was gone into the firmament. “Right,” Duffy began, limbering up with a hop, skip and a jump and a carefully balanced clicking of fingers, knees and toes. Adventure rested on its laurels and the world turned.

The Aria chose its moment, and from the ocean of song and barded tales that sloshed about in his heart it plucked a tale of an ancient mariner. The lyrics haunted Duffy, his spine tingled beneath their weight, and he fell to one knee as if a cudgel had decided rather rudely to fall onto the back of his head. Thump went his heart, thump went his knee onto the damp cobble, thump went the world in a spiraling melee.

The waters receded and revealed the ocean floor beneath the magical image in his mind. It did not remain a blank sand canvas for long, as towers rose from it, solidifying into crystal illusions. The architecture was…unfamiliar, strange somehow, but altogether familiar in a strange and disconnected way. A foreign tongue slipped into the song, similar to common spoken in a distant dialect, linguistically garbled but reticent of having heard it before. It spoke vaguely of a country Duffy had never heard of in his few short years. His vision went blurred, just as he heard a cry in the distance, distorted but clearly Ruby had found her mark and the plan had been set into motion.

“I…” he croaked, clutching at his forehead with both hands and screaming. The Aria shifted once more, and the crystal city flashed and suddenly he saw a vivid picture of a strange and wondrous land. The shadows cleared, and he knew then what he saw. It was a distant land, an alien city, an adventure. “I…” He brought his hand up and feebly tried to grasp in the direction of the heated discussion between a merchant and a soon to be arrested spell singer. “Oh…shit.” Duffy’s last word on this mortal plane crashed through the crowd like a wave, little sparks of magical energy spluttering out like wildfire and gaining momentum quickly.

Thud went the thief, his limbered limbs flopping haphazardly onto the floor with an amusing crunch. Silent went the Aria, its prophetic vision erased by a great tidal wave, once more it sang in unfamiliar words, rhythmic notions carried them, as if it were a poem with a strange and undecipherable structure. In the dark that was heaven, the realm of the Thayne, Tantalus clicked his fingers and drove his staff into the ground, his magic and power over his Avatar snapping the thief from one realm and sending him once more through a vast vortex of crackling hubris and power.

Spiraling through the ether lifeless and subconscious, as if dreaming, Duffy was pursued through the eternal dark of his silent mind by a swarm of spiders, each jet black and chitinous, horrifying and taunting him with an eternal advance. He ran, his limbs twitched slightly as his illusion became increasingly real. Something knew he was coming, something stronger than any Thayne Duffy knew of. Their maws snapped, metallic fangs clapping like a death knell amidst the scuttling. Poison dripped and singed the invisible floor beneath his futile feet.

The poem grew louder, it’s hope distilled into speed and endurance to carry one of the few hopes that could stop the Spidress to his new adventure, a new Act in the eternal play that life acted out. Duffy screamed, and ran on towards a world he would come to know as ‘Earth.’



This royal throne of kings, this sceptred isle,
This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars,
This other Eden, demi-paradise,
This fortress built by Nature for herself
Against infection and the hand of war,
This happy breed of men, this little world,
This precious stone set in the silver sea,
Which serves it in the office of a wall
Or as a moat defensive to a house,
Against the envy of less happier lands,--
This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England.

--Shakespeare, Richard II

[Mutant_Lorenor]

Incense coursed through the air, N'Jal's favorite scent. It was Dragon's Blood combined with the heart of virgins. Lurking within the Eye of Fate was the mutant, Lorenor. Having obtained the rank of High Priest of N'Jal, the mutant was now one of the Spider Magi of legend. Several cloaked individuals in robes filled the chamber. It was built within an asteroid that fell upon Valinatal many moons ago. Legend foretold that one of Xem'Zund's Death Lords had ravaged Valinatal with the coming of N'Jal.

The angry star fell upon Valinatal with the explosive force of an apocalypse. Many perished during the fallout. The call of N'Jal was heard by many, but most importantly, it was heard by the one known as Lorenor. Lorenor answered the call of N'Jal many moons prior and worked alongside his fellow Paladin, MetalDrago to build a new legacy where Valinatal once stood. A makeshift town now stood there, aptly named Mosil-Z'sarug. As wisps of incense filled the air, so too, was there a fanatical chanting.

The congregation chanted in an ancient tongue no longer known by mainstream Althanas. Only scholars and Priests of the Order studied that tongue, for it was the language of the Spider Magi. Spider Magi were the followers and direct servants of N'Jal. Lorenor served as a High Priest of N'Jal and as a consequence spent much of his time in the Eye of Fate. That chamber was a makeshift cathedral built in the name of N'Jal.

Dressed in Vlince robes that were embroidered handsomely, Lorenor lead the chanting. He was reading from three sacred books which was the chaos engine known only as the Necronomicon. Sacred teachings of N'Jal were written within the pages of those books visible only to fully fledged Spider Magi or the Forsaken. Placed on three pedestals that stood in front of an elegant altar, the books glowed with dark energies. The entire chamber was filled with dark energy that clung to the walls. Several members of the Forsaken's Elite guarded the congress as they preyed in the name of the Dark Lady.

Each of the servants of N'Jal wore the robes fashioned in similar craft by the tailors in service of the Forsaken.

He stood up with arms spread, his entire body glowing in a dark-purple hue.

The short High Priest stood at a mere five feet in height and was amongst the shortest of the gathered members in the congress. On the altar awaited a young woman not shy her nineteenth birthday, who was to be a ritual sacrifice for the Dark Lady's hunger. A wicked ritual dagger made of Mythril, and part of a pair, rested nearby to Lorenor's position. The man spoke in a high tone that echoed through the chamber.

"O Dark Lady. May thou find that this humble sacrifice is pleasing to thy palette. May she survive the Embrace and become one of the Forsaken. As it was written in the beginning, so must it be in the end. The second Age of Darkness has begun." Lorenor called out to the congress.

"Praise be to N'Jal!" The gathered flock called.

"In the beginning, there was the All-Thayne. Then, the All-Thayne split becoming many portions of its once glorious self. The Darkness within the All-Thayne became a Thayne superior to the rest of the Thayne Collective." Lorenor continued the sermon. "In the darkness, the Dark Lady manifested her power enough to challenge the congress of the rest of the Thayne." Lorenor's voice rose. "And now, the Dark Lady walks amongst us within the Eye of Fate! Behold her beauty!"

From within a natural deposit of liquid within the asteroid, and in the same chamber, there was a tremendous glow of potent energy. The glow was the will of N'Jal manifesting in the air as several pulses of light and energy anointed the room with dark power. Dark power manifested in the room filled the evil hearts of those that were gathered. A girl cried in the chamber, it was the sacrifice as she was slain by the mutant's own hands.

Pulling her still beating heart from the cavity in her chest, Lorenor offered up her heart to the N'Jal Protocol. The heart was quickly consumed by a billion metallic spiders that were microscopic in nature. The water was green in the well and bubbles boiled up quickly when Lorenor offered N'Jal the heart. Then, upon the body, several of the gathered members of the Forsaken were allowed to consume the flesh. With the ritual sacrifice complete, the sermon was now over.

"Offer a sacrifice to N'Jal and ye shall be rewarded. Praise be to the Dark Lady. Go with the Dark Lady my children." Lorenor said in a trance himself, as he addressed the flock. The girl was being eaten by flesh-eaters as Lorenor concluded the sermon. Some of the gathered followers could be heard crying in the chamber quietly to themselves. After whispering their final prayers, some of the members of the gathered flock departed to attend duties in Mosil-Z'sarug proper. The ones that stayed behind awaited an opportunity to seek audience with Lorenor himself.

An older gentleman walked over to the mutant and whispered something in the priest's ear.

"What!? How long ago?" Lorenor demanded.

Upon hearing that his Captain, MetalDrago, has gone missing, the mutant became furious.

"Mi'lord, we're not entirely certain. His personal body guards say that it was no more than an hour past. Whilst you were giving the sermon it happened. It is an event that has to do with the Dark Lady. The guards did not pursue MetalDrago."

Lorenor put a hand to his chin and rubbed it thoughtfully.

"Summon them, immediately." The mutant said, anger in his voice. "I wish to seek audience with them."

***

A short time later, several of MetalDrago's hand-chosen personnel were speaking with Lorenor in excited voices. The mutant allowed them to speak one at a time to make his own conclusions about what happened. Once the mutant had heard all of their accounts, Lorenor looked up with a dangerously calm expression on his face. When they saw this, the gathered Forsaken were taken aback. Lorenor's fury was well known.

"Due to the nature of the event, I will assume personal responsibility." The mutant began. "Such events, I understand, are beyond the control of anyone and are matters to be consulted with the Thaynehood or one of their Priests. Which means me." Lorenor continued. "None of you are certain where this Gate has lead to or why. None of you know how to reopen it, but there is one I know of who can. If anybody can do it, it is the Dark Lady and I will consult her about this matter."

"Understood Mi'lord." One of the ranking members of the Forsaken said. "What would you have us do in the meantime?"

"Stay frosty. Xem'Zund's Death Lords are out in full force. There shall be no reprimand or pulling of rank. Instead, I want all of you to perform your duties with more vigilance if we are to survive. I will investigate MetalDrago's room myself and see if there was any wrong doing. May the Dark Lady guide your fates." Lorenor said and parted ways with them except for several of the Forsaken that were Lorenor's personal bodyguards.

A short time later, he was in MetalDrago's personal quarters. Feeling like he was invading his Captain's privacy, Lorenor felt hesitation before entering the lad's room. However, this was a dire matter and he wanted to get to the bottom of MetalDrago's vanishing. Residual energy still crawled all over the room, and N'Jal's voice sang to the mutant of chaos and confrontation. When Lorenor entered the room there was a brilliant flash of energy and a doorway opened up for a moment. The mutant saw that the gate was connected to the realm of Phantaria. Did I call this door? Lorenor thought to himself. Seeing the door, Lorenor saw a world he had never gazed upon before. His eyes were filled with wonder and mystery, but he also saw that MetalDrago's energy had passed through the gate. Nodding to himself Lorenor turned to Forsaken gathered in the room with him.

"Do not follow me under any circumstances. I shall return with MetalDrago, continue our plans and protect the Eye of Fate. Tell Father Gaines that he is in charged."

Lorenor had taken the sacred books and all his objects with him.

"I will keep the Sacred Texts with me." Lorenor bowed to his companions. "Go with the Dark Lady." He said to them and entered the Gate.

Who knew what that world on the other side was, or where MetalDrago had gone and vanished to.