Fate - First Reply On Ancient Crimes and Modern Consequences

[Samara Asenta]

Dog. Warhound. It hardly seemed to make sense. How would such a beast become what stood before her? Some part of his tale that came once he set on a new hunt? Or was this all allegory, perhaps? A fable as Dy'vus had said himself.

"I wonder what would have become of me if I'd never met Her. I am young. Dreadfully young if you ask some that have lived long enough to form roots in the ground," the Elf said in jest. "Hunting monsters -- creatures -- in the surrounding lands of my home. Lawbringing, as you put it. It seemed so simple then. So clear. Like the warhound put to task against a Lord's foes."

While her eyes hadn't changed, Samara could feel her heart was no longer threatening to burst from her chest. "A warhound taken from what it knew, then trained by its Master to become a killer." A slight nod followed as part of the tale could be used to describe her own condition. Though the...psychological damage had happened far faster, and by less natural means.

"So, why does such a steadfast champion of justice not tear this Nightwalker apart?" Samara inquired without scorn. "Few even learn as much about me as you have so far. Any regular Vampire would likely be put to the sword; while any like myself are all but guaranteed an entire kingdom's army to hunt them down and slaughter them without question or remorse." Or so she strongly believed, and so told none. Though few ever entered into an area of darkness like where they stood now -- a place where things from the other side might touch the living. Somewhere Her influence would be seen by others, and in the presence of someone that might understand.

The question could earn a violent response, but Samara was not afraid. After all, She had made sure Samara wouldn't deliberately end her own life even by another's sword. A Dark Queen must preserve their Puppet until it could be returned to their grasp. So if Dy'vus did strike, Samara would defend herself or escape. She hoped his restraint so far said she would require neither.

Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr

 

[Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr]

Samara inquired as to why Cauldwin didn't simply attempt to destroy her. Well, with this stunt she wasn't doing herself any favors. He considered the possibility that this was a fainting damsel routine, the cunning manipulation by her "goddess" of his better nature in order to extract information. He answered sarcastically, "Maybe I'm lonesome and enjoy your lovely company, maybe I'm saving you to eat when I'm hungry... In any case: can you walk?

Samara Asenta​

 

[Samara Asenta]

Samara chuckled to herself as she rolled her shoulders. "I can walk. And if, by some chance, you are saving me for a meal later, just remember my Goddess' hunger has no end. I'd like to avoid testing which of us is capable of devouring the other, if possible."

Slowly she stepped away from the beast of a man that had caught her and lingered nearby attentively. It would be nice if his restraint was from an appreciation of the company. There were so few people Samara would ever confide so much in without expecting to be hounded by every able body in the region as a result. Perhaps what the two of them shared stayed even the long arm of a Lawbringer -- for now. "Shall we delve deeper into this dark place knowing it could bring out the monsters within us? The source of this magic circle may still be here. It may have only been the sentinel designed to protect something greater."

Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr

 

[Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr]

He subsequently released his supporting grip, contining forward, "Good, I'm not carrying you through this twisted ruin on my back." There was a dirty joke in her previous threat, not testing which one could eat the other first. He was not in the mood for merrymaking or comradery however, this place was of serious concern. If was capable of allowing that part of himself to surface with ease, the tear must be strong. That or perhaps he was truly becoming less and less stable, possibly both.

He wondered how aware of the situation Samara really was, she might be far more devious than he first imagined. More informed than she lets on, or perhaps her possessive entity was at least. In any case, it couldn't hurt to ask the simple question, "How much do you know of this place and its history, Samara?" He said as he walked, kicking a crate out of the path.

Samara Asenta​

 

[Samara Asenta]

"This place? Not a great deal. I have seen places like it, and read about several others -- most of which were long hence violated and looted. That the sentinel remains and my Goddess is basking in the darkness as a mortal would the sun tells me enough -- danger lies ahead." Not the least of which might be the vile fiend taking control once more. She'd already managed it once and that was at the threshold of the sanctum. It was not a pleasant prospect to think what may happen further in, but the thought of departing could not be entertained; such was the unconscious influence the entity had over the Elf.

"I did hear a tale from a nearby village, however." Dy'vus seemed interested in their surroundings whether from a scholarly or strategic purpose in mind. Samara wouldn't mind discussing such things openly. Few average citizens cared to listen to a spellcaster 'prattling on' about such things. "There was an ancient kingdom led by a powerful dark sorcerer that once ruled over these lands. We may be standing in the dungeon of what remains of their Keep, but no one was certain where the center of the kingdom was in the forests. Nature has reclaimed the broken remains of their hunger for power, and hidden it from the world."

Samara turned to look over at her wary companion. "For the best. Magic like this should not be explored by the ignorant. Perhaps your god intended for you to bring the Law here and make sure looters -- like those above -- are no longer tempted by the whispers of shadows."

Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr

 

[Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr]

Entering the odd cave room the light from his flask illuminated the grey-green stone that blended surreally with the cobbles of the damp cellar tunnel they pair had just emerged from. The rough damp green stone sloped unevenly upward and downward creating a large chamber. Water flowed both upwards and down, visible corrosion could be seen on the stone. Many warped wooden hallways sprouted from the cave room in all different directions, though gravity seemed more or less intact as Cauldwin began descending into the middle of the room, taking care to avoid any pitfalls into the worn wooden halls that aimed straight down into a seeming abyss.

"I did hear a tale from a nearby village, however." Dy'vus seemed interested in their surroundings whether from a scholarly or strategic purpose in mind. Samara wouldn't mind discussing such things openly. Few average citizens cared to listen to a spellcaster 'prattling on' about such things. "There was an ancient kingdom led by a powerful dark sorcerer that once ruled over these lands. We may be standing in the dungeon of what remains of their Keep, but no one was certain where the center of the kingdom was in the forests. Nature has reclaimed the broken remains of their hunger for power, and hidden it from the world."

Cauldwin considered that tale a bunch of nonsense, small elven settlements and villages have risen in the Falwood but an entire kingdom? It must have been something especially old. Then again, these were elven kingdoms in question. Unlike men or dwarves who built their fortresses from stone, elves could build it from living trees and morphed earth. Using subterfuge and natural hazards for defense. Elbions excursions into the Falwood had taught him as much. More likely the old murderous and profaned toy maker's experiments were so black they opened a wound into the Rusted Realms.

He stopped and turned back to the cellar they had just lefts and raked the metal fingers on his rusted gauntlet down the damp wet wood, leaving a deep long claw mark across the right side of the entrance, "I scarcely believe that any such greatness ever existed in the elven lands, best just to ensure we are not lost to history like this 'ancient kingdom'." He wondered if he should inform Samara of what exactly they were heading into. It was best she know now, "Listen, you should know that what we are dealing with is no mere sorcery, as frustrating as it is on its own. We are dealing with a wound, a tear in the fabric of reality the horrors from other domains may spill out into ou- your world. My duty here is to see to its closure, I have no idea what waits for us in these twisted tunnels, and I cannot ensure the safety of you or even your soul. I would understand if you would much rather cut your losses."

Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr​

 

[Samara Asenta]

"Dy'vus," Samara turned to look at the armored specter, "my soul is already claimed by a Dark One. If some Deepling wishes to try stealing it from Her, let them."

That's the spirit, my Sweet. I might even corral a few of them and send them your way. I wouldn't want your adventure to be boring.

The white rings panned across the warped version of reality that lay before them. Many paths to unknown destinations and uncertain fates. Samara had to admit this was another one of those 'I have seen something like this, but it was far smaller in scope back home' moments. There'd been far older mages than herself among the Seraph that could bend reality, but none to such a degree as this. Being forced to flee from the comfort of home had certainly elevated her understanding of the world. Shame it had come at such cost.

"I know not how deep your connection to such Surreality extends, Dy'vus, but I am not unfamiliar with warped perspectives. One talent my Goddess gave me was the ability to talk on walls or ceilings as naturally as you and I are on the ground now. This wound will need to do more than dispense with a common frame of reference." The man seemed to know more of the encounter and had a self-proclaimed mission to deal with it; Samara thought it would help if he knew she was not going to go mad trying to comprehend the environment around her. She'd do far better than any ordinary hunter anyway.

You are so much closer to home here, aren't you, my Sweet?

Then the Elven woman asked the most pertinent of questions in her mind, "How is it such 'Wounds' are closed?" As a former mage she had many thoughts, but why speculate needlessly when Dy'vus was there to explain what he knew of the matter?

Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr

 

[Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr]

Was that truth, confidence in her abilities, or just bravado? If she so choose to assist in his hunt, "Then so be it." He responded curtly as he moved, back down the stone. He attempted to hone in on the direction of the wounds root.

So much closer to the edge, the vague whispers of the Warfather and the other souls in his dark halls where audible to him. Something he used to guide him to the source of these wounds. What somewhat unnerved him were the particularly audible, somewhat feminine whispers. He acted somewhat annoyed by its apparent taunts, such as "Thats --- Sp---t, my sssw---t." New experiences continued to be most unnerving for the steely Cualdwin.

Samra spoke about some of her abilities, in an attempt to reassure him of her capability. He almost honed unto the direction they would need to travel. The strength of the whispering that compelled him narrowed down to three passages. Then the voice spoke again, clearly this time as his concentration was on the whispers of the shades, "You are so much closer to home here, aren't you, my Sweet?" Sounding as if it came from directly behind him he instinctively turned and braced for a strike only to see his companion standing nonchalantly.

The green dot in the chasm of his helm once again narrowed on Samara, that shadowfiend, her "goddess" was making honing in on the wound difficult. He turned his back again and continued attempting to focus on a direction as she asked him a question as if nothing had happened, "How is it such wounds are closed?" Cauldwin answered coldly, "What's the one way to ensure something is eternally neutralized? Find its soul and eradicate it..." he finished with raising the pitch of his voice and threw on a mocking sweet womanly inflection to hint that he could hear her shadowfiend as well, "...my Sweet."

Samara Asenta​

 

[Samara Asenta]

Laughter echoed down and from the many corridors that surrounded them. It moved among them and at times came from more than one at a time filling the central chamber. It had a distinctly feminine quality to it.

Don't worry, my Trusty Bloodhound, what you do here won't cause me to turn on you like that short-sighted Lord. Actually, I look forward to you surviving. If you can.

The act of breathing that Samara indulged in -- from defiance, to retain a semblance of what she once was, or as a way to blend in -- stopped while the voice whispered from the dark. Whether Cauldwin noticed or not, the Elven woman surged forward in an effort to kick him in the back and send him reeling forward.

When he'd turn to face his assailant, all color in Samara's skin would have been erased. A living statue as white as snow or the bleached bones of the long departed. The only color was of the sea of darkness that swallowed her eyes and beckoned others into their depths, and of the deathly black of her lips curled into an unapologetic smile at his expense.

"You can't bring yourself to confess your own sins aloud, can you? Poor Elf all but tells you her darkness secrets and the most you do is spin a tale about Old Faithful and how they were betrayed just before the end. A sad tale, but far from the whole thing, no?" The white haired woman slowly tilted her head to one side as she regarded him. "I could see you being one of my own; or the one responsible for your creation someone that worshiped me in all the dark places. Does that make you hate me, or love me? Show. Don't tell."

More laughter skittered in the broken realm that surrounded them.

Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr

 

[Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr]

Once again the feminine voice intermingled with whispers of the shades as he tried to hone in on the source, "Don--- wo---y m- --ust- bloo- ---nd, wha- --- d- -ere w--'t ca-- -- t- -urn -- -ou --k- th-t sh----si--t ---d. Ac----ly - -ook fo--ard t- y-- sur--vin-. I- -ou ca-. This was becoming infuriating to the rusted warrior. This is the third time such an interruption came from Samara's shadowfiend. He was about to turn, to command that she muzzle her demon or leave his presence so that he may complete the task and move forward with the mission. Then he felt a slight shifting of pressure on the back his right thigh...

He didn't move a micrometer forward of course. It didn't change the fact that his "companion" had just attempted to kick him into a hole. Negligible though it was in the heat of the moment he did pick up that Samara's soft, forced breathing had ceased. His own became hard harsh and faster as he turned slowly. His posture upright but looming as he faced Samara. "Samara" had endured a visible change: her eyes had once again turned black, and her skin was now fairer than fair. It became deathly, in combination with her snow-white hair gave her an almost ethereal appearance. Her shadowfiend then spoke directly to Cauldwin,

"You can't bring yourself to confess your own sins aloud, can you? Poor Elf all but tells you her darkness secrets and the most you do is spin a tale about Old Faithful and how they were betrayed just before the end. A sad tale, but far from the whole thing, no?" The white haired woman slowly tilted her head to one side as she regarded him. "I could see you being one of my own; or the one responsible for your creation someone that worshiped me in all the dark places. Does that make you hate me, or love me? Show. Don't tell."

Cauldwin was split between two exceptionally powerful emotions at this accusation and ultimatum: pure undiluted fury and the most potent of lusts. Split between righteousness and dark indulgence. Between control and primal instinct. As to why? Rage surged forth from the accusation of this shadowfiend, he hated the dark and what he choose to become, but it was choice of pragmatism, existential dread, and pride. The Stríđsfaðir marked his split soul as his chosen in death and gave both the master and the beast a choice: die dishonored or endure horror and combat for the rest of whatever time they remain undestroyed to reclaim that honor and have their justice. The accusation that what he was was anything but suffering for what was right? That all the pain, all the loss, all the horror of his grim, bloody, short life had been filled with and the tenfold worse existence he now lived was anything but righteous? Unacceptable.

However, whatever this thing was inside Samara, the beast considered its own. More than that, it was enraptured by the dark lady. It sought release in her, though the lust was less like a stallion seeking a long-tailed black mare, and more like an exceptionally starving stray dog stalking the dark and alluring creature like prey. The beast rammed against its cage, whishing so thoroughly to be be released on the dark lady. To indulge in its sadistic pleasures. Cauldwin's rusted gauntlet moving with unnerving speed seized Samra by the throat with a cold vice-like, and lifted her to be eye level with him and then bringing her closer allowing ample means of preventing asphyxiation by either pulling herself up at the vambrace or stand/clinging unto his plates. He then spoke in Wiir, the tone or inflection being more of a desperate prayer than any venomous condemnation or sadistic taunt, "Stríđsfaðir, megi hugur minn standa virki. (Warfather, may my mind stand a fortress.)"

The Stríđsfaðir's whispers filled his mind, tangible to him, pulling Cauldwin away from the lust and instinct this shadowfiend could draw out form him. He then held her away from his body, like one would hold a spoiled fish, turned and dangled her over the edge of one of the downward warped wooden hallways before speaking with the same stern tone, the voice of control, "Hear me and know, shadowfiend. I am a Lögfķrandinn, a son of the Stríđsfaðir's undeniable will, I exist to endure and overwhelm any threat. I do not fear you or the dark, for I am what haunts the dark for your ilk so that none of the guiltless that live in the light may ever need fear its encroachment. I choose to spare you only for the guiltless you have taken as your vessel, but one more disruption of justice though hindering my duty and we shall see if you really can defy gravity in this twisted wound."

Samara Asenta​

 

[Samara Asenta]

Samara didn't bat an eye when the large man pivoted to claim her throat in his so possessive grasp. She didn't even grab at the suit of armor's vambrace, nor thrash wildly out of primal desperation to suck in air. The only thing the pale woman before him did do was smile.

Smile and fix her eyes on Cauldwin's helm where his eye lurked in the shadows. Oh, yes, a little prayer to his dear and grumpy Lord. Well done. Whether the battle-minded deity deigned to supply any actual aid in protecting their soldier was another matter. She, however, would. All Cauldwin had to do was gaze into her dark eyes.... feel the world fall away as he descended into the Abyss. Maybe even clutch to the burning white rings of her eyes as one might a life preserver. After all, what would a Dark Goddess be without sparing a worthy soul here or there to remember her?

"How utterly romantic. He took the time to give your kind a name," Her voice echoed from all around Cauldwin. "What would a God of War be without an army, and what was an army without Order. He thinks too highly of himself. As you do. As a son, what else should I expect? To think you could purge Me and Mine from this world. There's not enough of you to come close. It's a hopeless, endless battle. I love it. It gives me all the time in Creation to tinker and play with so many different ideas. So many kinds of life to give."

The darkness behind Samara seemed to solidify as impossible as it might seem. It coalesced into tendrils that waved and stretched out from the Elven woman's form. "Let me set you free of your burdens. I can even help you tend this dreadful Wound. After all, I do so enjoy your company and I wouldn't want anything... sordid to befall you here." Darkness itself began to slither about Cauldwin's wrist. So long as she was within his grasp, he was within her's.

Shrieks could be heard from deep within a few branches of the warped realm. A very sensitive ear might even pick up the sound of scraping of talons or claws as something had begun to approach from afar.

Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr

 

[Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr]

(OOC: This is a long one so bear with me...)

Cauldwin remained undaunted by her belittlement of the Warfather and her thinly veiled threat. After all, this was likely little more than a shadowfiend, a demon of dark and malevolence. The last thing he should be attempting to do if he chose this thing in his presence was rage at it, giving it a rise. He was also completely unshaken by the black tendrils and claws. Claws he had found was a fairly common mutation in nightwalker bloodlines, and claws like any blade were excellent for shredding flesh and fabric but poor at cutting metal.

As for the odd black tendrils that shifted outward from her back, he himself had shadow woven into the very fiber of his being since his resurrection, it was about as dangerous to him as elf in heavy armor (that is not at all). Were it radiance, celestial energy, some other form of light magic, or celestials forbid fire! He might have acted with much more caution. Additionally when in the rusted realms he had to fight his way through countless twisted and savage shadowy aberrations, this form of hers was nothing by comparison.

His thoughts on the matter were interrupted. Wooded, porcelain, and metallic mannequin-like creatures were crawling out from the many halls that led below. Crawling up with their misnumbered and mismatched limbs. One climbed up from beneath attempting to claw at his leg, he promptly stomped on its wooded vissagless head. It was crushed into splinters and the remainder of the from simply slumped and fell down the chasm taking two or three other of these creatures making their ascent with it.

Instinctively he yanked Samara forward so that her stomach would land over his shoulder, roughly as he intended to knock the wind out of the Shadowfiend. He then arched his armored arm around the back of her thighs, if she was going to be hindering his investigation she could at least be easy to carry. Now carrying her over his shoulder he turned to see the teeming horde of these unnatural spawn of the wound. Following preivious experience, their numbers may be endless. Sure he could go berserk and exhaust himself, but he'd just put him and his companion in the thick of it when his bodies' muscles were torn and rended to a point of inoperability. Or he could try methodical attrition and take a few hundred with him.

The best case then was to run, though he so distained the action. Actually, better to think of it as a tactical retreat. He looked towards the three hallways that he knew the source would be near the end of... whelp do or die. He charged forward crush ceramic, wood, and even metal beneath his iron boots. The force of his charge knocked the creatures out of his way. His stride was less of a run than a bounding, the strength of his legs causing every step to propel him forward rather than simple locomotion.

He charged down the dark, warped wooden halway. The light from his flask only illuminating a small portion of what was in front of him. He would round a corner only to be met with a dead end where the way back up to the surface. Instinctively he did a one-eighty and began to head back only to hear the clattering horde approaching. He tapped on the wall to his right with what remained of his left damaged appendage. The sound was indicative of being hollow. He took a step back then rushed the wall with his left shoulder causing it to splinter and send him though into an odd storage room with three connecting doors.

He picked one and slammed it behind him, bad choice, it was a dead end. Seeing a shelf and a few crates he threw Samara down on the cobbles like a sack of rice. He then quickly moved the shelf in front of the door and began barricading it with the other crates. Hoping to hold the abominations back if not hide from them.

Samara Asenta​

 

[Samara Asenta]

"You can't bear it, can you?" Samara said once they were barricaded in the little store room. "The mere thought of asking something as wicked and vile as myself to help. It must sicken you. Offend you. To say nothing of all the doubts -- how I would betray you, how this helps further my cause. Or maybe you're just a chauvinist, hm? The Alpha Male presented with a beautiful, alluring, if unnaturally strong Elven woman offering to help."

The pale figure had sat upright from where Cauldwin had summarily discarded her. She leaned back against the wall and peered up at the metal hulk that clamored about. "You think highly of your capabilities. I'm sure you'd tear through armies of foul beasts, if you had to. A brave and strong creature like yourself." A small moan of appeal trembled sweetly in the dark. Meanwhile, shadows moved in the lantern's light as though they were alive. "Haven't given me a second's thought as a threat, yes? You think you're safe in here from the monsters." Now quiet laughter danced within the confining space.

"You only need to ask. No spiritual contract required. After all, if it isn't done willingly it isn't worth consummating." With that Samara went quiet expecting the man to respond in some capacity. More than he had earlier when he'd hauled her off like a giant sack of spuds. In Her defense, the dark powers of the world were present and bolstering the door Cauldwin had barricaded to keep those nasty little hooks from tearing straight through it. They were, after a fashion, talking. Mindless beasts should show a little respect and not intrude upon their conversation yet again.

This Wound was an absolute delight, and the way Cauldwin refused to engage Her only made the pursuit all the more delicious. Was it likely he'd come to throw himself down before her in worship in just the span of an hour or two? Hardly. Such an easily domineered soul wouldn't be worth carrying Her luggage. That didn't mean She wouldn't start down the load road of persuading Cauldwin to embrace Her. If nothing else, it amused Her to observe Cauldwin's reactions and how he fought to survive in this deep, dark, broken plane of existence.

The Elf held her right palm facing up for the metal man to witness the display. A facsimile of the room outside of the door appeared made of crisp red lines of magical energy. The Horrors that followed them could be seen crawling about in the tunnel just outside once they arrived. A silent reminder of the many decisions and consequences that the man bore on his shoulders in that moment. Meanwhile, She continued to watch and observe his every moment or even the lack therein if he tried the stoic sentinel treatment.

Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr

 

[Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr]

He finished placing the crates before the door. Now Cauldwin was seriously considering tearing Samara limb from limb and stringing her mangled corpse up like so many others. She was proving far more trouble than was worth saving with that shadowfiend. Though be it the beasts influence or a refusal to end the life of the guiltless, he was not yet able to bring himself to put her- them was more accurate- down. His gaze remained firmly planted on the door, ready to rip and tear his way through the horde should they breach.

The shadowfiend prattled as one would stereotype a demon to prattle, though often a man with little time for nonsense their was no denning his disappointment in the lack of originality. Despite the seeming bind they were in, his thoughts drifted to something. Why did he allow Samara to aid him? Especially after that episode in the entrance. With most others he would have cleaved them or sent them away. Perhaps it was something subconscious? Perhaps he thought he saw a like-minded and like-situated person, though it would appear her self discipline and capability to hold back her own shadow was far inferior to his.

In this place at least, he had to face the fact that the guiltless known as Samara did not exist. Instead he was left with a medaling shadowfiend. This so called "goddess" of hers. However, he was not alone. The Warfather was closest to him in this place. The Warfather's will is what sparked him back to life and reforged his charred flesh and bone anew. The Warfather only chooses a select few to bring back into the fold, those with an unbreakable will, and more potent than any spell or power, one who's will can shape the world around them. In this place so close to the Rusted Realms he was order incarnate.

He could cleave her yes, but this demon prided itself on its ability to dominate, to possess. It was in the false pretense that he was trapped in here with it, that it was in control. How horrible a punishment to exist knowing, a lowly corrupted Nordenfiir was beyond that grasp. That discipline will always trump instinct.

Cauldwin's stance softened into a calm almost imperial upright posture. He folded his hand behind his back as if at attention. Then he turned on his heel an approached the pale elf, though it couldn't be seen behind his vissagless helm, Cauldwin had a toothy smug smile going ear to ear. He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her close, with his deep voice he spoke softly, seductively, and submissively luring the shadowfiend into a false sense of impending victory, "Come here my dark lady, I have an oath to pledge to you..." Cauldwin pressed his damaged arm against the wall and focused on the Warfathers whispers and managed to get a beat on the source of the wound before he continued, "...I shall see you and your vessel leave this place intact. With this unbreakable consummation, I vow to see you and your ambitions UTTERLY DEFEATED."

With that he slammed through the wall behind them, shattering his glowing flask revealing long plank walkways that stretched out over the void, in the direction of the wound. The dark seeming to bolster him, his rusted plates becoming a glassy obsidian like black even in the pitch blackness. He let out for the first time an honest to god laugh. A joyful, relieved, high pitched laugh. One that contrasted heavily to his otherwise deep and imposing voice. With a single twirl on his boot he faced the pale lady of the dark, wanting to get a good look at her face and saying with a playful, flirtatious, challenging inflection, "Beautiful? For an elf? Sure. Strong? For an elf, sure. That's what you got right about ye self, but me? All ye got right was that I do think highly of my prowess. Last one to the source owes a *trick* to the other...", And with that he began to race to the source, taking care to not take to much of a lead. After all, it was only sporting.

Samara Asenta​

 

[Samara Asenta]

Tendrils of living darkness batted away the debris from Cauldwin literally bursting through the wall with Samara in his grasp. While the smile was small, the man's challenge hadn't soured her mood. If anything, She was being abundantly tolerant and understanding of the creature. Nothing She had said had gotten through.

Suppose it was a minor miracle the great and powerful Warfather allowed his son to speak -- even if he didn't have much to say. Utterly defeated? The very sentiment ignored what she'd said earlier. There was no 'defeating' Her. One might as well claim they would bring light to all of Creation -- there would be no shadows, no darkness left anywhere a living being could see. Preposterous. Or did Cauldwin truly believe his dear and violent Lord had destroyed all the Dark Ones?

She might even explain how futile Cauldwin's boast was, if he stood still long enough to listen. Not that he'd heard a word She had said. Even the offer to help had gone ignored. No doubt he thought all his patience and mercy had gone toward not cleaving her in twain up until now. Typical Champion of 'Justice,' what could you do?

Then on the plank the man proposed to race her to the center of the Wound. The victor would receive a 'trick' from the vanquished. "Your word is your bond," She replied. Cauldwin proposed the challenge and the reward -- vague as either were. It would be interesting to seem the kind of 'trick' offered as a result.

Samara took off after Cauldwin, but if he thought his bulk would hinder her it was only because they had yet to face a true challenge together. Only a few steps into the chase the Elven woman leaped forward; one foot touched the side of the plank before she sprang forward again and landed on the underside of the plank where. Somewhere she was free to release her unnatural speed without Cauldwin standing in Her way.

Once She got ahead, Samara would pivot back around to Cauldwin's side of the plank. Spears of darkness shot out from the 'walls' that surrounded them to impede Cauldwin's progress -- or at least provide a nuisance. Mattered not whether they slowed him down. Just the thought it might gnaw at his patience was enough. It had been ages since She had been on such a race, and her progress wouldn't slow no matter how far ahead She might get.

There was a junction up ahead though. Two nasty little creatures prepared to jump onto the plank with them. Samara's hand flipped off to the side and had the living darkness impale the lifeless husks. A makeshift barrier to keep the rest behind them occupied until the pair was well past. Well, Her at least. Depended on how quickly Cauldwin could haul that enormous armor of his whether he got by before they were released.

Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr

 

[Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr]

(OOC: I like to add music when the tone fits, let me know what you think of my choice...)

It looks like he'd goaded her into playing along, good. He didn't trust this thing for second, and he found himself invested in knocking down her ego. Of course she hadn't yet seen everything Cauldwin was capable of, but he'd rather save what is unshown for when he may need it most. In an instant she was already starting to gain a lead, showing off her acrobatic prowess as she leaped to one of the planks. Her unnatural speed was nothing he hadn't had to deal with before. He'd run down other nightwalkers, but that was more due to out enduring them than outrunning them.

from the void tendrils of dark sprung at him in his path... figures, the race has only barely begun and she's playing dirty. Apparently she had learned little in his presence, he was a being of dark, and a juggernaut at that. Brute force of dark magics are of little hindrance to him, he simply crashed though the tendrils of the void like one would run into a wave. In fact, she may have inadvertently aided him. The annoyance was building further rage in him, were their any powerful light he would bet his right arm that a black miasma could be seen pouring down him from the cuts and crevices in his armor.

He could feel his sinews stretching, his muscle engorging from the overwhelming adrenaline. Further strength flowed through him, with that strength he could bound further with each moment, he was gaining on her, now neck and neck he shouted a taunt at her, "Aww, trying to bend the shadows against me? Is the self-proclaimed goddess scared to loose to a Lögfķrandinn?"

Samara Asenta​

 

[Samara Asenta]

Laughter filled the void down whose maw they ran. "As I said earlier, my handsome Lögfķrandinn, even when I lose, I win." Delightful he'd appeal to her ego. Deities did think highly of theirselves didn't they? She was not without pride either; but 'losing' wasn't a sore subject. It'd been an Age since She'd lost count how many times some venture had failed. What Great Inventor hadn't suffered the bitter taste of failure?

Shadowplay, however, was giving her delightful companion a bit too much of an edge though. Just because She didn't mind losing hardly meant she tried to. Time for something else, then.

With a snap of her fingers the walkway they traveled split down the center. The halves separated without the sensation of movement, and the very walls that formed the tunnel begun to spin around them. More accurately, the planks the two ran upon separately began to twist even if they couldn't see it with their eyes. The gap between them undulated as it grew wider and narrower. Soon the other fell out of sight as the world folded in on itself, each seeming to run on the underside without any change in gravity. Then it pivoted back around only to form hills and valleys, weaving together and far away. Even as the pair ran straight ahead they danced in the shadow of the abyss.

Soon Samara seemed to be running upside above Cauldwin, their heads on equal level as a smile graced her black lips. "Having fun? Or should I gave one of our garden-shod pursuers a boost so you can play with a worthy warrior? Imagine all the dreadful and sinful creatures I could point you toward. How much fun you'd have smiting them. Together we would be unstoppable." Of course there was a price. Deities didn't hand out gifts for free. Places of Worship run by mortals were in charge of handouts, and this Wound was not one of Her Templates. Though it had delightful decor.

Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr

(OOC: Was a nice song for a chase)

 

[Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr]

The paths they ran down twisted in gut churning, mind bending ways. It seemed almost though they were having some black waltz in the abyss. This thing he had challenged had a disturbing amount of sway with the darker powers of the world. What had it called him? Handsome? It had never even seen the face behind the helm, clearly it was sarcastic or just disingenuous. She smiled at him from above as the paths became twisted parallels, still they were neck and neck, and he wasn't letting her win so easily.

She spoke to him,

Having fun? Or should I gave one of our garden-shod pursuers a boost so you can play with a worthy warrior? Imagine all the dreadful and sinful creatures I could point you toward. How much fun you'd have smiting them. Together we would be unstoppable."

He shouted back sarcastically through his hard and harsh panting, "Presents? For me? Either your trying to get under my armor, or your bribing me to throw the race! Either way, I can't deny you've got me all hot and bothered!" Then he began to get a lead...


Samara Asenta

 

[Samara Asenta]

Were that She telepathic in this form, the dark creature that haunted him would have derided his pessimism. Beauty was not constrained to merely one's physical appearance. Especially to someone that believed theirself to be the Goddess of Monsters. Few such creatures could ever be truly called fair or alluring. Vampires were one. Though her sense of beauty did not end with the physical did not mean she couldn't enjoy the luxury and trappings of it with her chosen vessels.

The 'plank' on which Samara ran disappeared and reappeared along side the stretch Cauldwin occupied as though it had always been there. Her snow white arms light draped about the armored man's neck as she'd slowly fallen from the lofty perch until she seemed to be sailing through the air in his wake as a banner might. Little weight was actually put upon the man as she floated behind him. "If you're enjoying yourself, you should convince the Elf to return home with you. With how driven you are to end this 'Wound' we won't have much longer together." The tip of her index finger caressed the jawline of Cauldwin' helm.

A loud clang and crunch of stone echoed up from the abyss below. Spared a glance, the Lawbringer would find an unfathomably large version of the monsters that had plagued them thus far slowly making its ascent. One bang at a time as the claws sunk into the surrounding walls.

"He's not too large for you, is he?" The fiery white rings watched the side of Cauldwin's head for his reaction. Which seemed more likely to him, and what was he willing to chance? An optical illusion due to the reality warping nature of the realm they occupied, or a monster he'd sought to avoid in numbers being actually that larger and perhaps a minute or two at most away from destroying the walkway and everyone on it? A Goddess never unleashed hell and told. She hoped Cauldwin wasn't getting winded, or she might need to find a treat to eat while she watched him face such a beast.

Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr

 

[Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr]

The possessed elf floated downwards towards him like some kind of deranged banshee,

"If you're enjoying yourself, you should convince the Elf to return home with you. With how driven you are to end this 'Wound' we won't have much longer together." The tip of her index finger caressed the jawline of Cauldwin' helm.

Besides the elf being possessed by an unknown being of darkness, that was probably the other reason he didn't simply allow the beast to give in to its unnatural urges: the elf was not a singular being. He had to assume that much like his own splintered soul, whatever one half felt or experienced had no guarantee of being complementary to the other.

As for the wound, whatever influence she had here wasn't all powerful. Another force, be it intelligent or of pure emotion, it was never so easy to defy. Something else would come besides some brute, though he had a feeling the "goddess" had more to do with these creature's aggression than whatever was at the heart of this distortion of reality. All of that brought him to his current situation...

An apparent large creature crawled up from the void, a giant marionette of metal in his path. She taunted him, only adding to his mounting rage. Now the warrior was almost entirely using his sense of smell and hearing to perceive the world around him. He didn't say a word, his bloodrage was building, causing the planks beneath his feet to splinter as his speed increased into a dauntless berserking charge. He drew his sword and with an inhuman leap thrusted forward with his greatblade, burying the blade deep in the creature's neck and chest.

​

The weight and force of impact forced the giant metal creature off balance, teetering on the edge of the void. Cauldwin planted his feet on the chest of the creature and with a mighty pull freed his blade and kicked off the creature. Causing it to fall silently into the unfathomable depths. Cauldwin hit the ground with a grunt and quickly began to retake the distance he had lost with Samara. The man even in life had cut through armies of beings, one should never take his capabilities in mortal combat with a creature of any size lightly.

Samara Asenta​

 

[Samara Asenta]

When the Knight Errant leaped into the fray, the pale Elven woman released her 'hold' around his neck and fell back toward the plank as he flew toward the giant creation. Laughter echoed within the abyss in his wake. That the man had thrown himself into battling such a thing was more than She had expected. Not content to hurry to the Source and end his pursuit, the man sought to take his frustration out on something he wasn't familiar with -- something that would have likely crushed him, and so he crushed it first. Delightful.

After Cauldwin returned from his journey afield and made his gallant charge forward, he'd find the Elven woman moving forward at a slower pace than before. As he began to approach, Samara would turn with her blade drawn across her chest and a piercing gaze of white fire. Only for an instant before hardened features relaxed with the familiarity of the monstrous man moving to catch up to her at speed.

"Dy'vus," Samara snapped. "In Dshara's name, where are we?" And why was he charging at full bore toward her? Seemed reasonable to be armed under the circumstances.

Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr

 

[Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr]

His pace didn't slow, he had wasted too much time with the creature in the she-elf's game. I didn't matter was Samara lucid or still under possession, the closing of the wound was more important. At this point his speed was beginning to overtake the vampires. As he neared, he heard her shout,

"Dy'vus," Samara snapped. "In Dshara's name, where are we?"

He crashed into her throwing her over his shoulder and catching the tip of her sword in one of the crevices in his plates. He couldn't be sure if this was Samarra or not, and he was fed up with being another creatures' plaything. In the distance he could sense it, he could see it. The source... the toymakers abode. Impossibly suspended in the void and bathed in a warm golden glow, the multi-storied-manor-like wooden structure loomed with many paths of ancient wood leading into it.

As he neared however the warm glow flowed out as a wave, like a growing beacon. It washed over Cauldwin, first he ceased movement causing him to flip forward from his momentum, and flinging Samara forward. Then as he lay flattened his armor and flesh would dissipate revealing a large charred skeleton with serrated teeth on the floor. Inert in the realm but internally...

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​

Violent pain ripped through every fiber of his being, burning, the smell of singed hair and cooking flesh... of rage and blood...

Violent pain ripped though every fiber of his being, maddening, the last embrace of connected souls severed, the once warm and soft touch, now hard and cold, of warm wet streaming down... of grief and tears...

Images flashed in his mind of times long past, of the hero: of warm mead over his lips, of a sweet maid smitten, sitting on his lap, off the bravado of and laughter of the watchmen in the pub... of home and honor...

Images flashed in his mind of times long past, of the cherished: of his craft, of the creation of his trinkets and dolls, of his sweet wife humming her hymns over the stove, of the smiling children that had found new joy...

Images flashed in his mind of the times long past, of the tyrant: the screams of the dying and the clash of metal, the scent of blood and fire, of brothers and enemies, to tie the banner with the organs of the dead, to hear them begging, to ensure every man, woman, and child would pay for what was stolen...

Images flashed in his min of the times long past, of the monster: the screams of the innocent and young, of the black books containing profane knowledge, of flesh and porcelain, to bind into existence what should never be, to bring her back to him, to know her love, her touch, her sweet singing once again...

What is the point of this soliloquy? That because we both had pain I will spare you?
You think I pity you? You think I REGRET?
You are SENTENCED TO DESTRUCTION.
NOTHING WILL HALT THE LAW.
NOT WAR
NOT DEATH
NOT YOU.

*****************************************************************************
​

The charred husk though undeniably macabre, had on odd peace to it. As if the strife was readable on the sad cadaver that seemed to stare upward broken and tired. Such piece would not last however, abyssal dark grew over the eye sockets. Pale sinew and muscle began to pulse out from the char, and an intense green orb formed in the center of right socket. Its serrated teeth gnashed, and its face twisted into an abject expression of spite and fury. The creature flipped over on its stomach and began to rise, as its horrible scarred flesh began to repair. It began to stand as its hair regrew and the plates and cloth reformed over his naked body, as if the armor was made from the abyss itself.

Cauldwin was now completely reformed, but something would happen before the rusted warrior could act. The roads beneath them shattered into wooden splinters sending both he and Samara spiraling into the dark. They however would not find themselves falling endlessly into an abyss instead they would be falling towards the wall near the entrance of the wound, just parallel to the cobbles. Cauldwin would smack into the wooden planks before hitting the cobbles as gravity returned to normal, Samara may have more luck with her landing and perhaps an earful to give to the rusted goliath given what had just transpired...

Samara Asenta​

 

[Samara Asenta]

Air was a luxury, so despite an abrupt deflation of her lungs and the shock from being rammed, Samara was still conscious Cauldwin hauled her down the path of darkness. Admittedly, not the sort of situation she enjoyed. Samara was capable of moving of her own accord. To say nothing of the unexplained circumstances and why he'd just assaulted her. Damn armored-skeleton creation.

"Dy'vus. Dy'vus put me down," the Elf snapped. What lay ahead when unseen as she hung over the man's shoulder like some sort of prize.

Another grunt followed when she was just as abruptly thrown to the ground. Samara rolled once before she slammed her hand into the 'ground' to stop the momentum. The muscles in her jaw worked as she pushed her upper body up to shoot Cauldwin a glare. That had not been what she'd meant.

Only the skeleton lay bare on the platform with no sign of what had brought him down. The glower evaporated as Samara sprung into a crouch and pivoted to look in the direction they'd been headed for any sign of danger. That's when she saw the manor in the heart of the void with many pathways that led to it.

With no sign of an immediate threat, the Elf stood to her full height and turned to look back at the skeleton. In time to watch flesh begin to creep across its remains. Samara watched in silence as it unfolded. There was a twisted familiarity to it, and some sort of morbid curiosity as to the manor of its construction. Whether that was from her time as a Mage, or because of Her, Samara couldn't begin to guess.

Blue eyes widened as the 'ground' beneath then vanished. The weightlessness within of plunging in the abyss followed, but their direction took them in an unforeseen direction. Pain errupted from the impact with the consumate force of such a 'fall,' however, signaling its end. While Cauldwin then collapsed to the cobbles as expected direction of gravity returned, Samara did not. Rather, Samara pushed herself up on the wooden planks. Gravity's arrow didn't apply to her the same way it did others.

"Goddess dammit, Dy'vus. Where are we? And whose abode is that out there?" For some reason Samara found herself here with the metal man, so she presumed there was a reason for it. The environment felt... familiar somehow. Almost...

With a snort, Samara gave her head a shake. "At least I don't need to worry about you falling to pieces," the Elf quipped about Cauldwin's regenerative properties. It would be bad if the two of them got locked in battle. Such a thing could last hours... days... perhaps longer depending on the nature of where such a fight occurred. Not a pleasant thought.

Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr

 

[Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr]

Cauldwin slowly picked himself off the cobbles. As he did he noticed the bent blade and black tar that slowly leaked from where it had lodged. He pulled the bent sword from the gap and tossed it towards the elf with a clatter. He got to his feet with a frustrated groan.

The source of the wound had warded him out, then cast them both out. The direct route was rarely effective without proper planning, and with the beast tearing at his focus and Samara's shadowfiend mucking with the situation it was no surprise the initial encounter failed. Often to defeat warding he needed something that would be close the sources being. An object, remains, their craft...

The beast had less sway with his mind here, and he was more physical than incorporeal. However the warding from the wounds source left memories, not his own... a wife, a craft... black books. He focused hard on figuring out the location of at least one of these books. Going down the corridor he came across a familiar archway. Where a large cabinet now was. He clamped his hand around the edge of the cabinet and flung it aside revealing a miraculously intact door.

The door was painted with sleek dark-red paint on fine wood. It had a silver knob with a keyhole. Black runes were on the door, similar to the runes found at the entrance to this place. He kicked the door with all his might, despite his immense strength, it remained intact. He tried the same with the surrounding wall to no effect. If only he had the abilities to read and transcribe ancient elvish runes...

Samara Asenta​

 

[Samara Asenta]

Samara lowered herself down so she wasn't 'defying' gravity from Dy'vus' point of view any longer. The Elf then crossed her arms and frowned as the metal-bound skeleton completely ignored her. That habit was irksome. Why bother explaining anything when you could just strut around and 'do' something. Never mind that when something life-threatening occurred there wouldn't be time to explain the important, little details that she may or may not know. Just because Lawbringers worked alone didn't mean he had to ignore her unless Samara was of something immediate value.

Well, if he didn't want to talk, Samara wasn't going to waste her breath. Her blue eyes fell to the bend blade where it had been cast free of Dy'vus' body. Seemed like she went through weapons like Gnomes burnt leaves in pipes. Someday perhaps she'd find a magical, indestructible weapon. Nothing wrong with a little fantasizing.

As the man moved away, Samara reached down to retrieve the blade. Bending it back in shape wouldn't restore its true strength, but it was an edged weapon. No telling how it could still be useful wherever they were now.

Soon, Dy'vus cast a cabinet aside to reveal a red door. Before Samara could say anything the insular creature started kicking both the door and the wall around the door. All thought of finding something to bang the blade roughly straight again evaporated as Samara stared at the sight. But of course he'd try brute forcing his way inside. It wasn't as though the runes could possibly warn against attempting to intrude into someone's private chambers, or that there might be violent consequences for the attempt.

Obviously Dy'vus had been a creature of darkness far longer than herself; or perhaps his deity simply filled his head with all the bravado and lack of caution needed. Samara certainly hadn't gotten any such instructions from Her; but then the Elf had never been intended to escape Her clutches either.

"A lil' Quarval-sharess," (By the Goddess) Samara breathed after a short vigil of Dy'vus' goings on. A none too subtle clearing of the throat followed. "That door is warded against physical assault." There was a brief pause after her statement to give the man time to acknowledge what she said, or see if he kept trying to beat his way in because he was thick. For his silence she grumbled about the latter, but for their... quest she hoped for the former.

Slowly the Dark Elf strode toward the door until she stood alongside Dy'vus. Samara turned her head to peer up at him with one eye to make sure he wasn't caught up in the moment. A blow wouldn't crush her, but it wouldn't feel great either. "I may not be powerful in the Magic Art any longer, but a door such as this is best defeated through grace not brutality anyway. An Elven quirk." A little explanation in case Dy'vus ever came across something like this again. Meanwhile, Samara reached out with her hand to trace a large pattern in the air between herself and the portal. "One enters blind and comes out seeing." Magical energy flared into being and etched a rune for 'a place of learning' in midair in response to the riddle.

As other runes glowed in response, Samara spared Dy'vus a glance. "Though we pass through this portal, there may be other snares within." Given the nature of the place it seemed likely such snares would be mystical in nature. A dangerous proposition as they could come in any shape or form, and likely had grown no less potent in time. "Care to share why you sought this place out?" His steps had been sure of their direction earlier, so Samara expected there was something in particular he sought. Whether he shared was the question.

Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr