Forgotten Temptation (closed to Chosen of the Gods)

[Forbidden]

[ooc: we are using the dansdel rules but not the arenas, and upon my victory I will take the exp bonus as this is my first battle here.]

Waning sun woke Ellenora in her cavern beneath the crust of Althanas. When the planet's rotation turned Concordia's fair cheek away from the great God of fire and light, a change shook her leaves and branches down to the very trunks and roots. The oaks who stretched even further below ground than they did toward the heavens, rooting themselves in the Mother's warm moist core. The needled firs and slender cypers that stood together as a pack of wolves huddles against the cold. Uncurling from a deep slumber, Ellenora inhaled the emptiness and loneliness of the caves. Her kin called them the Deadlands, for the honeycomb of twisting tunnels and sudden drop-shafts had claimed many lives. Ellenora knew them as well as she knew the naked curves of her slender, pale body. The Vampyre combed a long-nailed hand through her blue tinted black hair, then scratched the end of her index finger between her breasts, over her ridged ribs, and off the end of her left thigh. The nail drew a line like blood on snow, and Ellenora remembered change.

Change as the snows of winter had melted to new spring, as they would each year. As each dusk the Sun God's great power could not quell the Moon's blessing. Concordia sought the moon's love as much as any child of the night. Her trees and bushes smelled different washed in silver. and sang sweeter by night wind than any breeze of day. The song and scent called Ellenora out through the rough rock tunnels, up jagged hewn stairs, trailing a hand on the wall as it became soil. Dark powder to rub on her skin. To remember. She missed the earth's embrace every time she left, missed the nurturing heat of Haidia far below. But the moon summoned her to work toward greatness, to a time when the fires would burn above as below.

Two young vampires, a male and a female, were guarding the mouth of the tunnel. It yawned toward a field of sweetgrass, and the moon made their pale skin glow. She was red of hair, he a platinum blond, and both wore the garb of Nightracers. Amongst all of her children, the leather-armored rangers with their deep brown hoods, dragonbone bows and long sickle swords were the most loyal and deadliest by far. True to their names, they had vowed beneath the eyes of the great Goddess, the clan elders and Ellenora herself, to face the very wrath of the Sun should it prove necessary for her salvation. They heard her, smelled the pheremone that poured from her every pore, and turned obsidian eyes to her, bowing and gazing in reverence. The female brought her a gown of might sifan cloth and draped it about her shoulders, while the male sank to his knees and waited upon her command.

After the female had settled the short, deep necked dress elegantly upon the Ancient Vampyre's frame, she folded her Nest Mother's hair up in a tight bun and pinned it with a long iron throwing spike. Joining her brother - for all Nightracers had sworn each other as siblings - on her knees, the female deigned to look upon Ellenora's face and speak words to her ears.

"Ellenora Sekuerba Pope, Mother of the Liberi Nocturna,
My blood is yours to save our spill
Command my body and my will
To please the Eldest of the Vampyre, and hasten the Great Rising!"

The Ancient Vampyre quirked a narrow, dark eyebrow for a moment, and then signaled for them to stand with a sweep of her smallest finger.

"The Rising will come to those who are patient and wise, my children." She kissed her delicate-seeming knuckles and pressed them to the male's lips, then the females. They shone with pride at her blessing as much as from the moon's glow. "Tonight I will walk and look upon the village of Underwood, where our scouts say the Slayers of our brethren dwell. We shall see how they fare at war with the might of Haidia awakened.

The younger vampires trembled at the grandeur of her statement. They had awaited this night far too long.

"We will guard your chambers, Great Mother." The female Liberi Nocturna Nightracer said. "The trees will tell us if you are in need." The pair settled back to comfortably camouflaged posts as Ellenora waded into the sweetgrass. It tickled her feet and wisped her on her way. Soon she was walking through the thick of Concordia forest, along a trail covered in evergreen needles that bumped with great roots every so often.

[Chosen of the Gods]

The sun’s brilliant rays illuminated off the bronze Khopesh that Ahk’ran Kopek held, its radiance blinding the man who stood before him as the bronzed warrior lifted his fist into the air, screaming a prayer to the gods of the heavens. The man opposite of him was a burly warrior, a life at sea strengthening him as he held two curved swords in both hands each the length of a short sword and weighted at the tip. He hunched forwards as if he was going to charge, but the light seemed to disturb his eyes, the sailor cursing as he lifted one sword to block out the glare.

Ahk’Ran lowered himself into a run, his weapon held tightly in both hands causing the leather to creak as his sandaled feet kicked dirt up into the air behind him, his purple sash around his hip dancing to the whims of the wind that blew ever so gently. He brought his weapon down in a fierce two handed blow aiming for the sailor’s face, but the sea dog had saw such a blatant attack coming and lifted his weapon upwards into a crossing pattern catching the weapon between the two. They struggled for a moment, and then broke off as the sailor kicked the Fallien native in the stomach away from him, slashing his swords to the left to force Ahk’Ran to lower his weapon.

“Stupid blade can’t keep up with me! You really expected such a slow weapon to be of any use in a fight?” The sailor jovially shouted as he darted forwards, his weapons held at the ready in his headlong charge. Ahk’Ran smiled to himself, his bald head dropping a bead of sweat as he turned and swung his blade upwards to the sailor’s chest. The three weapons collided again, but this time with a different result. The left blade in the sailor’s hand was slammed to the side, the right one barely able to block the impact as the sailor had to rotate to keep his balance. His boots slid in the grass, a few fallen leaves swishing upwards as the surrounding crowd of the Dansdel arena cheered for their favored warrior.

“My blade, friend, is not meant to go toe to toe with another,” Ahk’Ran said lightly. “It is meant to kill in a few brutal strikes.” To this proclamation the sailor merely let out a laugh, his blades moving forwards in stabbing motions forcing the bronze warrior backwards. The crowd could feel the end of a fight coming as they roared with approval. How often did one get to see a Fallien Desert warrior of Far Ka-lad go one on one against a Coronian Sailor? Most of the audience let out a call that the match was over, the Fallien warrior clearly out of his element, but still they watched with eager breaths for the true winner to be revealed.

Ahk’Ran watched each blade carefully extend itself forwards, each time he lunged the blades went a bit farther and farther. When he brought them back, he left them a bit further from his chest until he was almost stabbing outwards at his full reach. Ahk’Ran carefully deflected each blow he could, ducking and weaving around other strikes that could have ended a lesser man. Timing became everything as he narrowed his eyes and bid a silent prayer to D’jalf, the God of Trickery. He jumped to the side, lifting the Khopesh to his side as he rotated his hands in a clockwise motion. The sailor saw the attack coming and let out a foul curse word that made more than one woman blush as he watched weapon come down like a guillotine. With ease the heavy tipped weapon cleaved through the hands of the sailor straight to the floor where it cut a trench in the dirt, his wrists nothing more than a bloody stump as the two weapons he wielded fell to the ground with a clatter of noise. The Sailor screamed in pain as he looked to his stumpy appendages, eyes alight with terror as he bellowed a curse word that shook the trees themselves. He fell to the side in a fetal position, tears streaming his face as he kicked the dirt like a baby.

“Be lucky I did not aim for you head,” Ahk’Ran said lowering the Khopesh to his purple sash, tying the hilt to the belt and letting the bronze weapon rest at his side. He knelt next to the warrior as he placed a reassuring arm on his side, waiting for the druids to come and do their magic. It did not take very long for the cloaked mystics to arrive, immeadielty lifting his arms as they began to chant. Ahk’Ran left them to do their work, whispering his thanks to the sailor for the fight as he turned from the arena. Some people looked on mortified at the event, but for the majority of people who knew that the Dansdel was not always so innocent they offered the Fallien native a salute or a nod of respect before leaving to do their normal activities for the day.

Ahk’Ran looked to the sun and bowed his head low as he let out a soft prayer of thanks, before kneeling to the earth and lowering his head where he prayed to the earth god as well. When he rose he clasped his hands together gently and thanked, D’jalf the god of Trickery for his role in his battle, and finished with one final bow to the arena before lifting himself up and heading out of Underwood.

The desert native had been travelling Corone for nearly six months now, his journey morphing in strange ways as the gods saw fit. Where once he humbly sought warriors to learn and gain valuable experience, he now had a more nobler purpose. It was in the Citadel three months ago that the warrior of the gods had fought two very dark and sinister characters. One was a swordsman by the name Regal Burnsdwidth, who fought like a demon and spoke heresy to make the bronze warrior lose his faith. He had faltered from the path of the god because of that man, but also thanks to him he set his feet back upon the righteous way. This led him to fight another demon, a man possessed by one who morphed and tainted his image to that of a scraggly looking ghoul of legend. The wonders of the Citadel created a maelstrom upon a boat, apparently some memory of the man’s past, where they fought through storm and sea to get to grips with the other. He vanquished that demon, and learned his place.

The gods had chosen Ahk’Ran to eradicate the filth from the earth.

This led him to now scour the land not just to learn valuable skills in the art of war, battle, and general experiences, but to also find those dark, tainted individuals who threaten the order established by the gods. Every fight changed Ahk’Ran from a humble warrior to a noble fighter, his ideals his weapon, and his belief his armor. With such purposes he had pondered several times what fool would dare stand before him, for doing so was standing before the will of the gods.

It was always that ignorance that would lead Ahk’Ran to the path the damned walk, and as he looked to the sky he saw the omen of a black raven flying overhead, away from his position as it cawed. A sign that danger was on the horizon.

[Forbidden]

Ellenora slid through the thick of the forest, a well beaten path just visible between leafy boughs, ten paces north of her line of travel. The hum of winged insects filled the air, and swarm after swarm tangled in her midnight hair. They landed on her face, and the Vampyre trapped a mouthful and chewed their tartness as she bobbed beneath a fallen trakym and waded through a bed of ferns. Sharp rocks and rigid roots tore the soles of her feet, and blackthorn nettles left long red lines on her pale legs wherever they scratched. Ellenora hummed an ancient tune and skipped over a babbling brook. She left bloody footprints on three smooth step stones and landed gently on the far bank, a small gasp escaping her lips. Pain pleased her as well the wind in her hair or the intermittent hooting of lonely owls. It was all a matter of perspective after all, and Ellenora had survived long enough to forget any qualms with physical agony. A sensation like any other, she chose to enjoy it.

Everything changed, given enough time. Although Concordia still looked much the same from the heart of the woods, Corone as a nation was barely recognisable from just a few hundred year prior. Ellenora could remember stalking game and lawbreakers through dense trees and over rocky hillocks, the trill of adventure rising in her chest. She had been a Corone Ranger then, but that was before the laws the group encforced changed to serve the goals of Men. The old Rangers, the real Rangers, had fought for the forest and the land, not the people. Running her smooth palm along the callused bark of a mighty rywan, Ellenora felt the acid of ancient racism still burning in her veins. Those who walked in the day and lied above had no sympathy or friendship for Haidians of any kind. They'd called her a cave dweller and cast her out, and Ellenora had felt fortunate to escape with only a few of her ribs broken.

Sweetgrass stuck to her feet as she entered another meadow where moonlight blessed the night. A single cherry tree dominated the clearing, its trunk as thick as her hips, its branches like so many broken fingers reaching for the stars. White petalled blossoms with red stigmas rising from their cores hung heavy on the branches, and as many littered the long grass below. Soon the tree would bring fresh fruit to the world, and fallen fruit would bring the rodents owls preyed upon into the open. Ellenora smiled. Everything changed and yet stayed the same. Reaching up with both fine-fingered hands, she clasped the straps of her shimmering dress and peeled it off over head. She draped the garment over a low cherry cherry bough and sat down, back against the trunk, bathing in the moonlight.

Underwood had changed. Ellenora mused on the facts reported by her Sunracer scouts as she picked a handful of dewy sweetgrass and used it to cleanse her bleeding feet. The freshly plucked weed along wit her own scent, and the richness of the blood leaking out, made her sigh with contentment despite her unhappy thoughts. Underwood, once as sleepy town all but lot in a great forest, had expanded and become more warlike. Ellenora felt wrath building inside her, like a dark voice that brooded beneath the whistle and shake of the wind in the trees. The daywalkers could wage civil war amongst themselves however they pleased, but when they used their armies to massacre her brethren and any other Haidians who peeked above the crust... she would savour her anger, nourish it as it grew into a beast that would consume Underwood in a single bite.

A flurry of movement and noise, and a rabbit dashed out of the loam. It froze for an instant, eyes darting, tiny body hunched, and there it died. The iron spike from her hair whirred through the air and split the bunny's shoulder blades, destroying its spine. By the time her feet - still moist with dewdrops and shining clean by the light of the moon - arrived next to the twitching creature, its last breath had fled. Picking up her kill and snapping its neck to halt the death throes, Ellenora removed the throwing spike from its back with a wet schyup.

Dark hair falling luxuriously past her shoulders, the vampyre pressed ruby lips to the crimson flow and drank her first fresh meal in months. With the comfort of moonlight on her bare breasts and Concordia's music surrounding her, the rodent blood tasted almost as delectable as a human's.an by the light of the moon - arrived next to the twitching creature, its last breath had fled. Picking up her kill and snapping its neck to halt the death throes, Ellenora removed the throwing spike from its back with a wet shyup. Dark hair falling luxuriously past her shoulders, the vampyre pressed ruby lips to the crimson flow and drank her first fresh meal in months. With the comfort of moonlight on her bare breasts and Concordia's music surrounding her, the rodent blood tasted almost as delectable as a human's.

[Chosen of the Gods]

The darkness of the night brought no warmth to the tired and weary bones of the desert nomad. He was far more used to the colder, harsh nights of the sands of Fallien, but the forest offered itself a much more unique atmopshere. For one, the wildlife still stirred even when the sun had set. He could hear wolves moving outwards on the hunt, howling to the moon god for a bounty worthy of the pack. Chittering insects continued to call into the night endlessly as they shared their secrets over and over. Large denizens of the night fluttered from tree to tree, shrieking into the night causing the warrior to pause and catch himself again.

It seemed the forest was more alive int he night than in the day, and he was ever wary as he traveled the moonlit paths with careful steps. His sandaled feet creaked upon the dirt road, the tiny gravel kicking up as he walked keeping his arm ever ready at the hilt of his weapon. The raven omen was still fresh in his mind and he did not think for one second as anything else but the intended warning portent it was meant to be. Besides, a little paranoia never hurt anyone.

Ahk'Ran heard the shuffling the brush next to his side as the treeline cast several shadow blotches on the road before him. It seemed the tiny creature was spooked by something and it ran like the devil itself was chasing it. Ahk'Ran gave chase after the rabbit, rushing past a bush and scraping his flesh upon a few twigs. A host of gnats assaulted his face as he angrily swatted them aside, but all thoughts of what was going on had drifted from his mind when he heard the wet noise of flesh not just being lacerated, nor impaled, but ripped right from the bone. His eye's widened as he searched for the source, and he had fallen back two paces as he watched a pale woman calmly lower her naked form to the ground as she casually ripped a throwing weapon of some design he had never seen before. With her other hand she brought the dead rabbit to her mouth and began to slurp and gulp the bloody remains of the forest animal, blood dripping down her breasts as the desert warrior looked to her in disgust.

His hands went to his Khopesh as he quickly lifted the weapon upwards, the metal scrapping off the leather belt with a shring. He lifted the weapon to a ready state in both hands before his chest as he made sure to give the woman time to know he had drew his blade. This would be the last favor he would grant the devil of the night.

"<Foul demon, know that I shall crush those who offend the gods,>" Ahk'Ran spat with spite in heavy Fallien dialect. "<And those who are blood drinkers have no place in this world! I shall strike your head clean off and offer your spilt blood to the Jackal headed god of death, and you will know the meaning of true damnation! Prepare!>"

Ahk'Ran then lifted his hands up to hold the weapon to his right shoulder, charging forward as his feet pounded across the rocks in his way as he shouted for the blood of the blood drinker with weapon ready to strike in a two handed blow meant to cleave her in twain like a twig before an axe.

[Forbidden]

The man burst from the bushes. More beast than man, all brawn and brackish tongues. A boar could gore with its tusks but lef itself vulnerable to the side. Before he could start to charge Ellenora had grabbed her dress and clutched it to her bosom, as if struggling to hide her beauty. Her head turned aside, curtain of midnight hair drinking light and giving a blue glow, dress shimmering in the moonlight. She let herself gasp, frozen as the rabbit had frozen before death, and gasped again, though it sounded like a laugh.

When the sword struck she was not where the dress made her appear. The hilt of the great sword missed her milky collarbone by an inch as she slid by, bent like she was doing the limbo put smooth as cascading samite. She stabbed at the inside of his thigh as she slid by. Aiming where the armor would be weak, if there was any. Aiming for the thick artery just below the groin. She could smell the blood in him, oily and thick like pumping tar. Ordinarily she would have slain and devoured him on principal, but Ellenora Sekuerba did not feast on beast.

Beasts were for game.

Wrikling her nose as she sped into the forest, dodging limbs, Ellenora let herself scream, so the beast could follow. As she let out a second scream, trying to make the merriment sound like terror, she realised the throwing spike was no longer in her hand. Oh well, I either got him or dropped it, she thought. She would not need it.

She crossed a small stream and crested steep rise, sleek muscles churning beneath her creamy skin like the milkmaids finest efforts. She broke out of the tree line and ran towards the front gate of Underwood, a woman alone, naked as squalling babe, liquid in the moonlight. Sweat and tears on her face, terror in her eyes, she clutched the guardsman's arm.

"Please... for the love of the Mother above... I was attacked by a man with a great curved blade, nigh as long as me it were. He tore my dress and tried to kill me but I ran, let me pass good sir!" She could feel his pulse even through the thick leather gauntlet. The guard was almost as tall as the stranger in the forest but not as porkly, and gallantly averted his eyes as he swept off his cloak and covered her with it, one handed, even though it was a chilly night for soft pinklings. He was muscular and ripe and she wanted to bite him there and then, but he sginalled and the gate opened and she scurried into Underwood proper, a vampyre in town with the blerssing of the watch, simple as that.

[Chosen of the Gods]

“(Child of a Whore!)” Ahk’Ran bellowed loudly as the woman had plunged he knife into his inner thigh. He stumbled forwards, wrenching his blade downwards into the ground where the curved tip braced him splashing dirt around him. He turned his face to watch her flee, anger boiling as he lifted his weapon and stepped forwards. Pain seared through his lower body as the weapon slammed upon the dirt once more. He cursed in his tongue many times as his face flinched in pain, looking down to the wound and lowering his hand to remove the blade.

There was a wet sound, followed by more cursing as Ahk’Ran tossed the knife to the side. Blood pooled down his leg, dripping past the leather bindings to his shins and making a wet sound as his feet squished it against the sandal. He limped heavily, and his eye sight blurred for a fleeting moment. Expierence had taught him well that this injury was as serious as any other. He could not race after his quarry, but if she fled that meant he had time to tend to himself.

Quickly he fell onto his butt, more pain escaping his lips as he ripped his purple sash off his belt. He unraveled the sash and pulled it taught before wrapping it around his leg where he was wounded. It was difficult considering how close to his groin it was, but with a little effort he made it work. He pulled tightly on his knot, before nodding and lifting himself up with a lurch of agony. He grabbed his weapon and looked to where the she devil had last ran. She was long gone, but her screams were an easy indicator of where she was. With painful hobbles Ahk’Ran moved forwards in a step-hop-step fashion, muttering prayers to the goddess of life to ease his pains.

He moved through the brush, pushing aside low hanging limbs that scratched at his bronze flesh. He ignored the irritancies it caused, seething through his teeth as he made his way forward. He was about to hit his stride when he narrowed his eyes in concern. He had found the bitch on the inside of Underwood, and she was not alone. The town guard had listened to her siren song, and they assured her in common language that they would handle something.

“She speaks lies!” Ahk’Ran bellowed. He moved forwards, still half stepping, half hopping as he looked to his sash. It was doing a poor job of keeping the blood in as small droplets began to bleed through. He would need a real bandage which was in his bag, but at the moment he had not the time to grab it. He lifted his weapon towards her as he prepared to speak, but the guards narrowed their eyes and drew cold steel across the leather scabbards and lifted them levelly to the Fallien warrior.

“You are accused of being a killer! And from what I can see here it is clear she speaks no lies! Lower your weapon and be taken into custody!” Ahk’Ran Ko’pec was not a dumb man. He had prided himself on being the kind of person who could respect a fighter, no matter who they were, and obey laws when asked to. If Ahk’Ran did no wrong, the gods would see to it he was safe. This was true of him.

However, Ahk’Ran was also not as gifted at tongues as many people think most adventurers would be. When he was excited, or frightened, or in a state of battle, Ahk’Ran’s understanding of Common was poor at best. So the words he heard from the guard were not to pacify him, but to challenge him. The drawing of the weapons upon him also informed the warrior that they must have, by the trickery of the she devil, be under some spell.

So he lifted himself up, lifted his weapon, and lifted his head to look to her with a dark, baleful eye. “I will remove the dirt from their eyes! Devil Lady!” Ahk’Ran spat in common. A poor translation to lift the veil, but Ahk’Ran cared not. With a cry of battle he moved forwards, shifting his feet slowly as he advanced in a Fallien March. Each step was slow and purposeful, and the guards shook their heads as they moved forwards.

They fanned out around the desert native, eyes looking to him carefully as he kept marching forwards. The woman looked to him, keeping her feigned fright but he could see the poison of her soul in her mischievous eyes. She watched like an amused cat near a dying rat, her fingers tugging the fabric that covered her indecency. If he could strike her down they would be freed from her spell.

The first guard advanced on him, weapon coming down in a diagonal swing. His Khopesh moved in a dead swing, both hands shunting the blade aside, lifting the flat curved edge up and hooking the guardsman in the stomach and pushing him off balance. He collapsed, one hand weakly clutching the sword as Ahk’Ran turned to face the other…

…and stumbled. His groin screamed to him the torment he was pushing his body through as his weapon clumsily lifted upwards to defend a blow. But one stiff punch caught him in the jaw and he fell backwards, dragging the weapon in the dirt making a tiny trench as he teetered. He swung upwards, kicking all the dirt he accumulated upwards into the face of his foe who screamed a few choice words of surprise. The breathing room allowed Ahk’Ran to turn as he bit his tongue and fought through the pain. He hobbled in a run towards her, weapon coming to the side to claim her life like a scythe would claim wheat. He was only eight steps away, and if he pushed, he may be able to make it.

(Crafty sonovabi.....using the town guard! Tactics in a battle? Unheard of! Let me know if you need more to go off of.))