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Akiza Sonshal
Crowne Garisi
Looking at it from afar, one wouldn't assume there to be much wrong with the city of Reikhurst, but the closer Afanas got to it, the more desolation he perceived unfurling before his eyes.
Reikhurst wasn't as much of a city as it was a skeleton of one, a rough outline that had the meat stripped off its bones and lifeblood sucked out of its veins. High-rising walls encircled the city, their wind-kissed sides ragged to the point where they practically blended into the overgrowth of foliage.
The very air permeating the outskirts smelled wrong, stagnant, carrying the aroma of sun-baked decomposing wood. It assailed his nostrils and made his face scrunch.
He wasn't the squeamish kind, but the reek of hopelessness got to him; a once prosperous city reduced to an above-ground mausoleum, only the cadavers were missing to complete the picture.He strode through the main gate, its dilapidated archway glaring down at him like a frowning ogre.
Afanas spilled into a wide, hungry street and let his eyes wander over the buildings; barely a window was whole, barely a roof unmarred by ravages of time. Even the echo of footfalls and laughter was long, long forgotten.
In fact, Afanas couldn't hear much of anything at the moment. His sensitive ears failed to pick up on the chirping of birds or the familiar buzz of insect wings. Even animals avoided the dead city, it seemed.
What remained of the pavement was like a dull grey puzzle with pieces missing. The missing sections were, at times, filled in with debris and dirt, and grass, weeds, and short shrubbery, mostly evergreens, dotted the once pristine street. Other times, there were gaping holes, with chunks as large as his head sitting nearby.
Beneath an age-bowed tree lay a skeleton, its bones bleached white from exposure. Carefully, Afanas detached its skull from the rest of its frame and inspected it for any signs of fangs and other unusual growths.
Having found none, he determined that the cadaver was of human, rather than vampiric, origin.What little he knew about Reikhurst he knew because of his father. The man had, under a mortal guise, visited the city twice, both prior to and after its desolation at the hands of vampiric cohorts.The vampires dwelling under the very pavement he was currently treading upon were no kin of his.
They were diseased, every single one of them, afflicted to exist in a state of not quite life and not quite death till the end of their days. Afanas felt a measure of pity for the lot of them. It was difficult enough being born as a creature of the night.
Transitioning from a human and into one ought to be ten times worse. Nonetheless, they had succeeded in laying waste to an entire city many generations ago.
It stood to reason that many of them were capable, if not seasoned, warriors. Warriors he needed, in spades, no less. There simply wasn't enough quality manpower in Alliria for Afanas to work with, and, besides, most mortals couldn't meet the standard he intended to set.
Crowne Garisi
Looking at it from afar, one wouldn't assume there to be much wrong with the city of Reikhurst, but the closer Afanas got to it, the more desolation he perceived unfurling before his eyes.
Reikhurst wasn't as much of a city as it was a skeleton of one, a rough outline that had the meat stripped off its bones and lifeblood sucked out of its veins. High-rising walls encircled the city, their wind-kissed sides ragged to the point where they practically blended into the overgrowth of foliage.
The very air permeating the outskirts smelled wrong, stagnant, carrying the aroma of sun-baked decomposing wood. It assailed his nostrils and made his face scrunch.
He wasn't the squeamish kind, but the reek of hopelessness got to him; a once prosperous city reduced to an above-ground mausoleum, only the cadavers were missing to complete the picture.He strode through the main gate, its dilapidated archway glaring down at him like a frowning ogre.
Afanas spilled into a wide, hungry street and let his eyes wander over the buildings; barely a window was whole, barely a roof unmarred by ravages of time. Even the echo of footfalls and laughter was long, long forgotten.
In fact, Afanas couldn't hear much of anything at the moment. His sensitive ears failed to pick up on the chirping of birds or the familiar buzz of insect wings. Even animals avoided the dead city, it seemed.
What remained of the pavement was like a dull grey puzzle with pieces missing. The missing sections were, at times, filled in with debris and dirt, and grass, weeds, and short shrubbery, mostly evergreens, dotted the once pristine street. Other times, there were gaping holes, with chunks as large as his head sitting nearby.
Beneath an age-bowed tree lay a skeleton, its bones bleached white from exposure. Carefully, Afanas detached its skull from the rest of its frame and inspected it for any signs of fangs and other unusual growths.
Having found none, he determined that the cadaver was of human, rather than vampiric, origin.What little he knew about Reikhurst he knew because of his father. The man had, under a mortal guise, visited the city twice, both prior to and after its desolation at the hands of vampiric cohorts.The vampires dwelling under the very pavement he was currently treading upon were no kin of his.
They were diseased, every single one of them, afflicted to exist in a state of not quite life and not quite death till the end of their days. Afanas felt a measure of pity for the lot of them. It was difficult enough being born as a creature of the night.
Transitioning from a human and into one ought to be ten times worse. Nonetheless, they had succeeded in laying waste to an entire city many generations ago.
It stood to reason that many of them were capable, if not seasoned, warriors. Warriors he needed, in spades, no less. There simply wasn't enough quality manpower in Alliria for Afanas to work with, and, besides, most mortals couldn't meet the standard he intended to set.
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