A Religious Exercise (Closed)

[Rehtul Orlouge]

(Closed to Gemstone)

Rehtul slammed the door shut behind him as he entered the entry hall of the “Cursed Cathedral” room of the Citadel. A smooth marble floor reached out nearly infinitely in front of him, ending at a door so far away he could barely make out the gargantuan thing.

“I really need to stop letting that monk pick my rooms for me, if only just to avoid the bad puns. ‘This will be a religious experience.’ I really ought to freeze his mouth shut and teach him a few things about the meaning of humor,” Rehtul muttered under his breath as he reached out behind himself and gripped one of the door handles with his gloved hand. Frost began to creep into the metal, even into the springs of the locking mechanism on the door.

If there was someone in here, he was going to ensure that, at least for the time being, that it wouldn’t go out into the courtyard. He smiled slightly and continued to walk through the dimly lit corridor. He looked to both sides, keeping an eye out for the area his opponent would have appeared in. The Monks were always smart about that, making the two combatants involved in a Citadel match appear in different locations within an arena.

Pale blue light flicked off of the cracked and broken floor. Wrought iron braziers held pale blue flames within them, casting an eerie glow over everything in sight, creating shadows that might have or might not have been something moving in the background.

“Gotta hand it to them, they definitely know how to create an atmosphere. I really hope I’m not supposed to be fighting some kind of monster here. I’m terrible at dealing with things like that jumping out to scare me,” he muttered under his breath. He could already hear his father’s voice in his head.

There’s nothing to fear in this world. Nothing is beyond the ability of the practiced mage to comprehend, understand, and counteract.

“Yep, right on cue, the ghost of my dad’s lessons jumps right into my head just as I’m beginning to feel the most stressed out. Thanks a lot,” he said as he finally came up to the door on the other side of the hallway. He looked out at the giant wooden doors, more like gates than actual doors, and cupped his chin with two fingers.

He traced the dark cherry wood with a single finger. It seemed to be relatively in shape, compared to the rest of the building. He hadn’t expected the giant stone doors on the face of the building to be in disrepair, as those took decades to deteriorate, but these wooden ones seemed almost too pristine.

“Is this a part of the appeal?” he wondered aloud as he pushed the doors open. Great creaking and groaning responded to his touch as he grunted and pushed the doors as hard as he can, just barely getting them open enough to squeeze through.

“Oh, for the love of the Thaynes!” he wheezed as he leaned against one of the doors for support. “You things are too damn heavy.”

He looked into the room beyond the door cautiously, using the door to hide himself in case a projectile attack was incoming. Some people in the Citadel thrived off of sneak attacks, and he wasn’t about to make himself an easy target.

Blue light, similar to that in the foyer filled the room. Dozens of pews filled the room, some overturned, others cracked and broken beyond all usefulness, all atop a gigantic ripped and torn blood red rug. Overall, the aesthetic of the room was perfect. A strange brazier, easily twenty times the size of any others that he had seen up until that point, sat behind the pulpit, blazing brightly with a violet flame that looked to be radiating darkness out in every direction.

“Definitely the most interesting arena I’ve ever been in,” Rehtul said as he came out from behind the door. He looked around for the person he was supposed to fight, assuming they’d even showed up yet.

[Gemstone]

The flames of depravity burned wildly in her irrational gaze. And beyond the smoldering cinders of her hungry souless eyes was the revelation of a vexing haunt that exists as a hellishly sinister torment within us all.

The beckoning call of morbid immorality incessantly squawking a shrill cacophony of lecherous vices to free itself from the shackles of the dank sepulture it had been cast in one's deepest animal mind. Always whispering of forbidden fruit most foul and darker still temptation of carnal delight of the ruination of another.

This parasitic being exists to assault ones every waking moment like wriggling and writhing worms gnawing upon the savory meat of one's sanity as they burrow deeper and deeper still to the pulp of the core. This proverbial beast lurking within the pit locked away in the unfathomable depths in the chamber of one's subconsciousness .

That devilish primordial you that you try desperatly to claw out of your mortal coil only to tear and claw upon your putrid flesh and strip it from the bone instead.

Only then does the realization come to fruition that this magnificent macabre horror is in fact the real you. Your pure unadulterated essence.

A monstrosity foreign yet strangely familiar somehow. A pity all this potential sedated into silence with petty notions of law morality and rational thought.

Only when you let go do the chains that bind you release there hold.

This was the very fabric of Merlot the mindset of a nocturnal raptor, as she stepped forward into the abandoned church.

In each hand she clenched upon an iron short sword. Surgically sharp as they both gleamed in blue torchlight. She wore a two piece Silk dress, tassels tied in a quaint ribbon as spare length fluttered and bounced with her stride.

As lashes opened lifting the veil over emerald eyes they glistened with a starry glaze. Merlot was oozing this lovely serendipitous little afterglow that cast shadows upon her true intentions.

~Why hello there! ~

She chirped as she proceeded forward.

[Rehtul Orlouge]

Rehtul was walking down the middle of the cathedral’s pews toward the pulpit in the middle of the room when he heard someone speaking behind him. He turned around and was greeted by a woman with skin paler than freshly fallen snow. Rehtul started to jump back, but then reminded himself that ghosts were not a part of the Monks’ usual repertoire of tricks. He placed his right hand over his heart and bowed to the woman with a smile.

“A good evening to you. My apologies for jumping like that. This place is just rather...” he cleared his throat. “Creepy,” he finished, red-cheeked from embarrassment. He coughed and brought his hand up to the back of his head and scratched for a moment before catching himself. He raised a single eyebrow and looked at the woman with a strange mix of morbid curiosity and disbelief.

The air between the two of them remained stagnant with silence for a moment as he thought about how to word his confusion.

“Are... you supposed to be my opponent?” he asked simply, at long last.

The air in the cathedral hung still for a few moments after he asked the question, even the ghostly flames burning in their braziers seemed to silence themselves as though the young man had just asked the Thaynes to strike him down.

[Gemstone]

Each passing step stirred empty echoes as bare feet pitter pattered across lacquered hardwood floors in the once grandiose sacred chamber. And for every foot stroke the noose would tighten as crucial distance was covered upon the vampires leisurely trek towards her victim.

A flawless cold hearted rendition ochestrated by calculated manipulation. Eloquent grace in the dancers poise as she curtly responded to his formal gesture in obeisance which took the form of a bobbing curtsy.

As he spoke Merlot's egocentric nature grasped her senses as eyes soaked in the room savoring the ruinous ambiance like a connoisseur of fine wine.

Once again the nosferatu proceeded forward as she retorted with her own rhetoric.

~My'~

A pause before continuing

~It seems beautiful, proud.
Only guilty of submitting to the passage of time.~

Soft green eyes swept off the architectual structure and locked on his visage in gazing defiance. While the tip of her nose held high in supercilous I told you so fashion.

~After all the only guarantee in life is death, even gods can fall.~

Her hands were down low, loose and relaxed. No tension as conversation seemed to take precidents in the matter in there verbal exchange. Using cunning and guile she imposed a different question relevant to the first topic to change the path of the conversation in a casual way. By using his embarrassment as a mechanism to put that last bit on the back burner, as his flushed cheeks betrayed him. After all Rehtul must have offended Merlot with the word Creepy some women take there age rather seriously .

~That sounds very hypocritical to say Creepy, won't you also wilt and whither as time passes you by?~

[Rehtul Orlouge]

Rehtul beheld the woman before him with a combination of curiosity and caution. There was something about her demeanor, something about the way she spoke, as though she lived in her own world. He could feel the venom dripping from her every word as she spoke to him like a small child, though she looked no older than he himself did. It was definitely interesting to be condescended to by someone his own age.

A deep sigh issued between his teeth as he thought of the best way to respond to the woman standing in front of him, who had spoken of both death and old age with such ease. It was something that not a lot of people in their twenties, much less a Mystic in his twenties, would even consider. It wasn’t something easy to wrap one’s head around, but the Orlouge of Frost was willing to at least give it a try.

“Honestly, I hope I’d age a bit more gracefully than this,” he said, brushing a stray lock of white hair out of his eye. “However, you seem to misunderstand my meaning. When I said this place as creepy, I was referring more to the preternatural darkness, pale blue flames, and that large purple one in the back of the room that seems to be eating light.”

A small smile crossed his lips as he said those words. He looked the woman up and down. She definitely had good taste in clothing. The dress she wore was very elegant, something that wouldn’t have been out of place at a ball room in Corone. However, it did not seem to be something that one would normally wear into a battle arena unless one was sure that they would be untouched during the entire fight.

Alright, so she’s either really agile or fights from a distance, the young Mystic concluded. The woman seemed to be far too confident in herself to be new to fighting another person, so this choice of clothing was obviously one that would not impede her ability to fight in the slightest. Though Rehtul had been wrong many times in the past concerning his opponents, he did not see himself being proven wrong on this particular account. Even if he was wrong, it merely meant that he had overestimated his opponent instead of making the mistake of underestimating them.

“I apologize if I insulted you. Allow me to introduce myself, and start fresh,” he said. He rolled up both of his sleeves to just above his elbows and easily buckled them into place, so that they would not impede the motion of his arms. He held out a single gloved hand to one side and concentrated. His eyes seemed to glow blue for just a flash of a second as moisture in the air began to concentrate around the young man’s hand.

He gripped his hand into a fist around the water, and it solidified instantly into the shape of a cavalry sword. The thing, curved blade rose into the air from around the arching hand guard. It seemed slightly ornate, but anyone who knew the young Orlouge would know that was his style.

“My name is Rehtul Orlouge,” he said. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance. If I might have the pleasure of your name, we can get underway as true opponents in this grand Citadel should.”