Fate - First Reply On Ancient Crimes and Modern Consequences

[Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr]

The way she momentarily paused, it wasn't trepidation or disgust. She was listening to that thing again. In a rare moment of self awareness, he wondered if that was how he appeared on the rare occasions the Warfather's whispers graced his ear. If not for his vissagless helm, could everyone tell he was in communion? In the future he would ensure such communication is not as obvious.

He began to make his way down the hall with a determined march, his mission strongest on his mind, his conviction bolstered by regaining his lost appendage. Even so something about his companion bothered him, what was going to happen when they neared the wound's heart again? Samara could be trusted, sure, but her goddess? That was a different story, would she simply rest control again before attempting to do whatever it was it wanted to do to the source?

Such questions loomed like uneasy boulders over his head. He decided to break the silence and ask Samara a question about her goddess not breaking his stride, "Samara, when we near the wound, what will happen to you? I know you struggle against her, can she be trusted to see this through?"

Samara Asenta​

 

[Samara Asenta]

The Dark Elf followed Cauldwin not out of deference, but so she could keep both eyes on him. Difficult to attack someone from behind if you were already in front. Not impossible, of course; there was magic for that.

Color had yet to resurface since the tendrils of dark energy had appeared earlier. Her white rings fixed on the behemoth of a warrior as he asked his question. A very... sensitive question at that. Prudent, of course, but it could have precipitated what he likely feared later. Best now than when it mattered, Samara expected.

"Nothing will happen to me," she responded in short order. "Provided the Heart of this Wound doesn't cross the Veil. Dshara cannot enter this realm of her own accord, the Pantheon saw to that long ago." Samara described matter of record with a scholarly, almost clinical, detachment. She could feel resentment that did not belong to her bubbling just beneath the surface that she did not wish coloring her words.

More to the point, the Elven woman added, "It is not Her way to help darkness grow and fester in this world. Only Her own, and that which allows it to flourish. I doubt She will complicate ending the threat this realm poses. In fact, She might very well help us -- if it benefits Her to do so." Samara unknowingly echoed what the entity herself had offered earlier. All of which was true, though not always in the manner in which anyone might expect.

Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr

 

[Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr]

That was discouraging. Cauldwin was not in the business of trading one destabilizing force for another. Despite Samara's assurances (if it was indeed Samara he was currently in the company of) he had serious doubts about her goddesses aid. Especially as he had known many a god to be exceptionally petty and fickle, even if he was willing to play kiss ass: it was a little late for that.

He responded dryly, "It took control of you before, it will likely do so again." Even now something was very clearly off with Samara. She was paler, colder, almost resentful in her words. Something that in his excitement in retaining his arm, he likely failed to notice prior. It was a wonderful omen, now Cauldwin was closely paying attention to her and her movements as much as she was to him. Truly, a healthy professional relationship, like a pair of mantises together on the hunt.

As they neared the wound the beasts sadism would likely color his approach and his actions. If he wanted any clear answers it was best he ask them now, even if her answers were outright lies or doublespeak. At least it would give him a good idea what kind of viper he had trailing him, "How petty is your goddess Samara, will she compromise this quest out of spite? I'm not an idiot, she knows I will not tolerate her ways, and she may try to see me disposed of."

Samara Asenta​

 

[Samara Asenta]

Samara looked over at the massive warrior. "She is not petty. She is an alchemist of a sort. Before the gods banished themselves from our realm Dshara enjoyed creating life, not taking it." There was a brief pause. "Although She is not altruistic. Creating life is a end unto itself, Cauldwin. Whether that life then went on the raze an entire city was not Her concern. If anything, the longer it tore through the realm the more successful She believed its creation. There were, after all many smaller creatures whose lives were easily dispatched -- amusing as they might be at times, they were largely failures."

"If it were not for the viscous depravity so many of the creatures exhibited, people might think better of Her as they do Astra." The longer Samara spoke, the warmer her tone became. "She has not walked the realm in Ages, but if She were to again... the marvels of the new land discovered across the great waters would pale in comparison to what Dshara would create." A small smile graced Samara's darkened lips. "And those fortunate enough to see Her before them..." With a quiet, heated sigh one of her pale hands lifted to caress the side of her face with the tips of her fingers.

Then she blinked and the dark glow about her faded. Samara's gaze had wandered, but now snapped back to Cauldwin. "I will not strike you, Cauldwin. But that does not mean She may not show herself in the Heart -- if the Veil is truly that thin here." The longer Samara spoke about the Dark One, the more her disposition turned from revulsion to adoration. Fortunately, the Dark Elf could pull herself out of it -- or, rather, she had yet to fail at recovering her senses so far.

Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr

 

[Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr]

Wasn't that wonderful, she was beginning to loose herself. Unfortunate, of the two Cauldwin greatly preferred the company of Samara over her goddess. More than that, that zealous statement, the whole creation bit. That sounded like utter chaos. Something that mires, raises, destroys, consumes, dies, and repeats. Everything that was against Cauldwin's quest and that of his lord.

Still, the power of a god, even a doubtless weakened one could be of use. The Warfather would forgive some chaos if it brought lasting order, besides, it wasn't like his lord was against allying himself with evil forces to succeed. Such was the nature of an eternal struggle he supposed: it makes for strange allies. He wondered if he could keep Samara present if he spoke of things that ran closer to her and her nature than her goddesses, if doing the opposite seemed to bring out the fiend within her.

His metal boots clanked against the floor, as the base of the halls began to turn back to cobble and the wood became progressively more new-ish, frozen in time more like. He took in a deep breath before speaking to Samara, "So, you were a scholar in your homeland? I assume your were some sort of archivist, or knife-ear equivalent?"

Samara Asenta​

 

[Samara Asenta]

Samara laughed. "Archivist?" The Dark Elf smirked for a moment. "The time I spent in the Library was to learn how to cast an increasing array of spells, and how best to empower them. I was a Seraph of my people -- a monster hunter to outsiders. We patrolled the surroundings regions and ensured they remain safe for people to explore, harvest, and build in." The man must have been deliberately pulling her chain. "If I had been a cloistered inside the library I wouldn't have been abducted and turned into this." A quick swipe at the length of her body followed.

"Likely I would have been slain by my own, or fallen to some beast on the road after I fled even if I had still be abducted." A drawn out sigh passed over her lips. "Even experienced as I was in battle, I was still a powerless mage. I had more false starts than I'll admit aloud. Eventually I took to doing what I was familiar with -- hunting monsters, just with different weapons."

"This is the most you and I have spoken since we met." Samara regarded the man openly. "I wish I could say it was because we respected one another." Though it seemed apparent the man had ulterior -- if not malicious -- motives. "Nothing says that cannot still happen, but my attempt at keeping my demons hidden has failed spectacularly." Usually she had far more success, but then Samara didn't jump into a Veil-thin pit of darkness in most cases either.

Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr

 

[Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr]

So she was akin to some kind of knife-ear ranger, that was to say effectively policing the wilds for her kind. It was of note to him that she had a background in some form of intense combat, but she also said she was 'abducted' and turned? So not a willing transformation, granted he had heard enough sob stories from enough sun-fearing mosquitos not to care so much about their past, they tended to be... rather uncaring about the blood they spilled in order to feed. The only exception he had seen yet being Sando. Suffice to say, he had his doubts Samara would prove another exception.

She gestured to her body with a flourish, to which he gave a slight nod. She continued, expressing that her magical capabilities were apparently limited, at least in her time. Which in all fairness, this was a knife-ear vampire. Their was no telling how old she could be, though she acted as one who was relatively young.

Eventually I took to doing what I was familiar with -- hunting monsters, just with different weapons."

He lifted his new arm and waggled the clawed fingers, the metal sliding against each other like sharpening blades, "To that I can relate." He joked, though his dead-pan tone would make it hard to tell.

"This is the most you and I have spoken since we met." Samara regarded the man openly. "I wish I could say it was because we respected one another."

He couldn't care less if he did or did not have her respect, if he was to be honest. He however bit his tongue, their was no sense in stirring up spite with the already untrustworthy creature he had watching his back.

"Nothing says that cannot still happen, but my attempt at keeping my demons hidden has failed spectacularly."

As had he, the beast always proverbially writhed under his skin, but typically it's affects weren't so influential on his personality. "Yeah, but there was an attempt at least. It's easy for many to just give in to these... er... *unique afflictions*. Despite what you said earlier, about being a monster, the struggle against our wicked nature is what makes a man virtuous. Keeps us noble. Not the shite royal blood kind. Fuck'n hate those gold shitt'n snobs... I mean the good kind of noble, you know, raging against the dying of the light and what not." With a muddled delivery like that Cauldwin didn't really believe she understood what he was rambling about. Even if she did, the mention of noble men often served as a joke to elves. It was none-the-less an honest, un-compelled insight from Cauldwin, which is a bit more than she had gotten before.

Samara Asenta​

 

[Samara Asenta]

"I could stand to struggle with my own vices rather than those of a goddess," Samara replied with a low-key mirth. It was a bit more than a fight against dark urges. The full extent was difficult for the Dark Elf to know lacking her own magical abilities; and asking any one else thus far had proven a disaster every time. Today was scarcely much better though Cauldwin was at least speaking to her again.

"I haven't had many dealings with nobles. Not since my home, anyway. What is it about them you don't like?" The man seemed to have some thoughts on the matter. Something that wasn't about the darkness around them or in her. Cauldwin seemed to open up a bit when it was on a topic of personal importance; it'd even go so far as to have the man dance and sing.

So far it seemed one part of Cauldwin in particular really didn't like authority figures. That or he had the misfortune of meeting one bad, arrogant prick after another -- both in an academic and political setting. Looking back on her own home, Samara wondered if she'd ever felt that visceral about people that lead from the comfort of their fortress? At times it was difficult to remember some of the details about her previously 'normal' life.

Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr

 

[Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr]

"I could stand to struggle with my own vices rather than those of a goddess," Samara replied with a low-key mirth.

He gave a small nod at that. He more-or-less agreed. Even if her tone gave away that she may have had more to say on that. Probably for the best, if she next told him she was some form of child-eating wraith, soul sucking demon, or some other such dark abomination he wouldn't be surprised, but he also would no longer tolerate her existence. Evil is evil, learned or by nature. If it provides nothing of worth or good there only one cure.

"I haven't had many dealings with nobles. Not since my home, anyway. What is it about them you don't like?"

Speaking of evils with only one cure, nobles were one of the kinds of people besides priestly classes and other such things he regarded as subversive thieves. Cauldwin's pace remained steady, a low growl emanated from his helm. He spoke with a disgusted, almost murderous inflection, the kind one expects when exterminating vermine, "Nobles... They never work a day in their life, to command idealistic virtues from their people and soldiers but indulge in depravity, embezzle, steal, lie, and murder from their protected positions. They are often no better than the scum I used to be tasked with bringing to justice. Rats wearing gold..."

He recomposed his tone, realizing his mood was starting to take a dark tone, "Anyway, I don't like nobles. They can't be trusted, and hold no virtue. A final word of advise on that thought: if you ever seek a leader look to one who rose from the abyss, rather than one that lived in the heavens. They'll get things done, and they'll make less miscalculations on morality." The floor had become more like smooth dark stone than cobble, and it seemed the wooden walls were bending outwards, widening the halls in an unnatural way. The air was no longer damp, and the scent of rotting wood was no longer so heavy.

Samara Asenta​

 

[Samara Asenta]

Samara laughed as their environment began to change once more. "Not just anyone from the Abyss." The Dark Elven woman chuckled to herself. "I've met a few that hailed from those reaches. A few would make great leaders, but most of them would lead you down dark paths. If you find the right one, however, they certainly won't be the type to quibble."

As for Cauldwin's disposition, well Samara didn't hold it against him. If nobles were more often than not so parted from the reality of the world around them she could see feeling the same way. It'd just stoke her envy of a 'normal' life of an average citizen; not only could she live in peace, but in lavish comfort without a need in the world? Wouldn't that be nice.

"So, once you cross this void, what's next?" They were coming up on the next leg of the journey, so time to see if Cauldwin was in a sharing mood about that too. The sooner they closed this Wound the better Samara would feel about her chances. If nothing else, she only had to put up with Dshara's commentary and not the goddess somehow exerting control over her body -- worse, without Samara herself even realizing it.

Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr

 

[Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr]

When he said '...one who rose from the abyss...', he was being metaphorical. He got the feeling Samara, if it was wholly Samara he was speaking to, was being quite literal. He didn't care enough to correct her, the void tugged on him. They were entering the wound. His posture shifted, becoming more aggressive and leaning. His breathing became harder and harsher.

"So, once you cross this void, what's next?"

That same wave of force came roaring towards them from the abyssal dark ahead, the source of the wound once again attempting to expel the foreign threat to it's little helscape. The wave crashed against Cauldwin spitting and dissipating. The realm shook a moment, as if shaking with rage or terror before going still and silent. A sadistic laugh escaped Cauldwin,

"Judgement time."
​

With out another word, the rusted warrior began bounding forward at a frightening speed, the loud clashing of his iron boots hitting the ground like a maul on a castles' walls. He crashed, slammed, and tore apart whatever immediate attempts at protecting itself the wound called. The odd constructs, walls, he ripped though them all. Tearing them apart with the claws of limb. The remains began to disintegrate into a white ash and float upwards. Whatever the show of force, one could only wonder what kind of reaction Samara or Deshra depending, would have if they chose to follow...

Samara Asenta​

 

[Samara Asenta]

A lone brow of the pale woman's arched as she stood aside and watched Cauldwin meet the rebuke head-on. It wasn't quite how she imagined this binding spell would work, but it was still effective. The quaking of the realm made her naturally wary though the danger passed relatively quickly. That was when the man decided to answer her verbally.

Mm, endearing if he weren't such a prude, don't you think?

As someone that enjoyed creating ever more dangerous monsters and setting them loose on the world, Samara imagined Dshara did think highly of Cauldwin when he was in his more violent mindset. Obviously he didn't feel the same. Rather, the part of him in control more often than not was set against them.

I did warn you about telling others.

As Samara took off after the charging bull of a man, she sighed to herself. Yes, her current predicament had nothing to do with the fiend marionetting her favorite toy.

Even a tainted soul like his hasn't figured out how to enjoy life a little. You mortals don't understand what it's like being an entity like myself in your world. I enjoy our time together, my Sweet.

That made one of them.

Her eyes slid over the remains of what Cauldwin left behind. Hopefully he didn't do that to something important. Whether that was an innocent soul or some sort of central pillar that kept this very existence anchored to their world... Of course the man intended to seal, close, or otherwise end the Wound; but there were ways to do that without being trapped inside of it when it happened. Hopefully this one just gracefully unraveled if the thing keeping it there was ended.

"Don't just butcher the heart," Samara tried to call out to the rampaging suit of armor. For whatever good it would do. He just ripped and tore every magical tome he got his hands on, it wasn't terribly surprising that hand was sending him to do the same to just about everything else in this place.

Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr

 

[Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr]

The beast savored the momentum. Charging further into the void. In response the wound created bottomless chasms and walls. Attempting to maze him in. He dug his heels to stop his momentum, placing his arm behind him, having his claws dig into the stone to stop himself from plummeting into the chasm below. He slowed enough that he released his grip and returned to his standing posture. He gazed pout into the walled routes just beyond. He growled, "Afraid to close with me?"

It could never be that easy, but the wound had to leave some path open less it be severed. He turned back to his companion, an almost swooning undertone to his aggravated tone, "How's your navigating, dark one?"

Samara Asenta​

 

[Samara Asenta]

Samara hissed quietly to herself as the man flew forth. At that pace-- Well, fortunately his reflexes and strength were up to par to deal with the consequences she'd feared. Of course the Dark Elf had been forced to arrest her own attempt to keep up, but had enough space to skid to a halt short of the pit.

With no point responding to the rhetorical question poised to a hitherto silent void, Samara took the moment to examine their current predicament. A walled maze with no floor or ground to stand on?

Her white eyes flicked over toward the brazen warrior in response to his pointed question. The Elf in her wanted to ever so politely remind him she wasn't a Dark One. However, the corruption in her soul felt elated at being acknowledged -- whether the man meant anything by it or not. The flattery was welcome whatever the reason. "Exceptional," she replied calmly, but with a soft reverberation to her voice. "Think you can move fast enough?" Sounded like the two of them would work together to adapt to their host's game in order to get a step ahead.

Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr

 

[Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr]

(Sorry this post is a bit later than usual, I was REALLY busy last weekend.)

Cauldwin grinned behind his helm, "Fast enough to run down my prey." He turned and pointed forward at the maze, "I'll be right behind you."

Samara Asenta​

 

[Samara Asenta]

A low hiss preceded Samara's white figure lunging forward toward the chasm. With the last step on solid 'ground' she leaped toward one of the 'walls' that still formed the reality before them. As something Cauldwin had seen before under Dshara's influence and briefly in the First Expulsion, the Dark Elf defied 'gravity' (if one could say that existed in such a place) and raced along the sides of the route through which they would pierce the Heart.

Even when the maze sought to change which of the surfaces it chose to make up reality -- left and right, top and bottom, or any combination thereof -- Samara just leaped from one to the next. Spatial orientation didn't slow her progress down even a fraction of a second. The entire maze might as well have been a straight corridor where it was easy to see where one's footing would be from one moment to the next.

As they charged forth, Samara could feel a strange sensation swelling up from within. One that had her lips slowly peel back and lift up at the corners. The elongated canines were bared as their prey so desperately sought to led them afield or cast them into the void. Perhaps Cauldwin and she had something truly in common after all in this moment -- the desire to hunt down their quarry and sink their teeth into it. Figuratively or otherwise. The longer the thing drew the chase on, the more the flame of bloodlust grew and it seemed the faster Samara's feet carried her forth.

Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr

 

[Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr]

Cauldwin followed suit with a leap into the wooden surface with a deep reverberating grunt, bracing into the fracturing wood giving himself a foothold. The center of gravity, at least for him did not change, he began to scampering and leaping forward, clawing and clambering deep into the platforms as he went after Samara. Only breaking back into a charging sprint when gravity seemed to readjust, allowing him to make up for lost distance. He couldn't deny it was hard to keep up when she could sprint where he had to climb, but he would be damned (again) before he was found wanting. The fact he was behind Samara assisted in this, as he had something less abstract to chase after.

As he traversed deeper into the realm his armor seemed to darken, gradually becoming closer to the color of his new arm. He could hear Samara as well, those subtle hisses under her breath. The way her jaw shifted... he knew that sound from when his jaw unhinged, she was making room for her teeth. Suffice to say the beast in both of them was coming out, and Cauldwin was savoring every moment.

Samara Asenta​

 

[Samara Asenta]

The deeper they dove, the darker it became. Blood pounded in their ears, or a desperate and consuming ache grew in their souls. Sunder every obstacle that sought to impede their way to the Heart of Darkness -- nothing else mattered.

And yet, the Wound's defenses persisted. However fast they ran, however many turns and absent dimensions were overcome, the maze wore on. Would it end? Could it end? These thoughts never graced the Dark Elf's mind as her very soul hungered for the abyss in which they dwelt; how it grew ever deeper and without end.

Soon, the flurry of motion began to slow. Cauldwin's thoughts were unaffected, but the effect had hold over the physical and both living and darkness came to a crawl. Soon the vestiges of walls and floors that made up the maze even began to fade. Samara herself lost definition.

Then the ear-piercing shrieks began. A lone source. One that warbled under a barrage of mind-rending pain. A single cell of a dungeon faded in. Well lit by candlelight, the stones seemed to devour what light existed in the confines of the cell. A lone occupant -- a woman with dark skin -- hung by chains affixed to the ceiling; the tips of her toes were all that could touch the floor. Black hair whipped back as the Elven woman's head snapped back, blue eyes wide open stared accusing up at the heavens with streaks of dried tears upon her cheeks, and the howl of the damned torn from her lips.

With her clothes tattered and terror contorting her features it might have been difficult to see at first. With how the Elf thrashed futilely in her bonds as an invisible instrument instilled pain in its victim, it might take a moment to make out Samara's features.

A bone-white hand suddenly lay atop one of Cauldwin's shoulders despite his imposing stature. Its owner leaned in close to whisper just between the two of them, "Isn't it beautiful, Cauldwin? Listen to the melody. Listen to her soul." A feminine voice with an otherworldly reverberation to it commanded his attention to the scene. If he sought to turn around an invisible hold would force him to face forward once more. "How I had her singing symphonies for me before the end. Before she was taken," the voice turned rancid with a venomous edge to it for just a second. "But now you're here, Cauldwin. Now you can bring her back to me. Back home. Do this, and I will tell you the location of every Wound in the realm. All of them, Cauldwin. All. Of. Them."

Samara bucked in her binds once more before suddenly the chains snapped and her form crumpled to the ground. Only another figure suddenly appeared, and the Elf's body was cradled in their arms. Samara's lidless eyes stared upward with her mouth agape even as the figure stroked her hair. A faceless creature had turned its head toward Samara as though its eyeless visage could see the woman in her tortured state.

"Will you bring her back for me, Cauldwin?" the voice whispered in his ear once more.

Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr

 

[Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr]

As Cauldwin land on another platform, his movement slowed. This was wrong, the realm shifted before him and the darkness went on into infinite blackness. Suddenly he became aware of the dark stone bricks he tread on, vaguely lit by a bright blue flame of a candle held inside a small metal lantern on the walls made of the same stone bricks. He was cautious, he immediately reached for the hilt of his sword. Then he remembered where he was: the Allirian Hellward: the deepest floor of the dungeon where only the most dangerous of criminals were held darkness and isolation.

He relaxed for a moment, then he immediately became overwhelmed with fear as he remembered what he was now to Alliria. He looked down at his gauntlets, seeing not only had the iron returned to its flat black color, not only had his gauntlets once again become symmetrical, not only was his plates undented or rended, but he was perceiving more visual information than should be possible. His eye... HIS LEFT EYE! This only happened when he shed his corporeal form... had he died again? Was he in the rusted realms? Was he in that cursed limbo he enters in rest? Then were was the beast? Why were they not shackled? Hundreds of dreaded questions werred through his mind, but no so dreaded as the sensation he was about to feel...

A bone-white hand suddenly lay atop one of Cauldwin's shoulders despite his imposing stature. Its owner leaned in close to whisper just between the two of them, "Isn't it beautiful, Cauldwin? Listen to the melody. Listen to her soul."

He drew his greatblade, turned on his heel causing the green linen cloak embossed with the symbol of the watch to twirl around him, and took a vicious swing with the gleaming blue steel behind him. Only to see nothing behind him, and his blade sparked against the black stone bricks of the wall. He felt the hands on his shoulders again. He turned with a thrust of his blade again catching nothing.

"How I had her singing symphonies for me before the end. Before she was taken," the voice turned rancid with a venomous edge to it for just a second.

The voice boomed from down the long corridors of the Hellward. He quickly grabbed the lantern in his left hand to light his path, then he began charging into the dark, his iron boots clapping like thrunder on the black stone he let out a shout, "HALT! IN THE NAME OF THE ALLIRIAN WATCH!" The voice continued, indifferent...

"But now you're here, Cauldwin. Now you can bring her back to me. Back home. Do this, and I will tell you the location of every Wound in the realm. All of them, Cauldwin. All. Of. Them."

He didn't break his sprint, he didn't dare, even with what he was, even if this wasn't real: he was still one of Alliria's Law-dogs. He had to skid to a halt as he neared the end of the corridor, almost crashing into a wall at full charge. The lantern he carried smashing against the stone leaving him in darkness. A small dim pale light peaked out from one of the black iron cell doors' window shutters. The door was doubtless locked, then he realized the steel keys and keyring was on his belt. He knew what he was being manipulated into doing.

He opened the shudder to see a dark haired woman with dark skin, well lit by candles that he knew all to well were never left in cells down here. He watched her writhe and struggle against the iron binds as so many prisoners do, she looked up revealing her blue eyes and tear streaks as she let out an anguished shreik. Instinctively he closed the shudder, not wanting to give a prisoner any reason to act out. Then he remembered that what ever this was, it was just a manipulation. This wasn't the Hellward, that wasn't a prisoner from the past (he memories their faces).

He grabbed the key an inserted it into the four locks, as he had so many times before. He then swapped the key for the single small black key on the ring, inserting it into a unique lock that caused gears to shift inside the iron door. He opened it with a loud metallic creak as the woman fell from the shackles. She looked through him through her long unkempt hair, her body only covered now by the rags that lay loosely across her back and her hair.

"Will you bring her back for me, Cauldwin?" the voice whispered in his ear once more.

No, but he would take her from this place none-the-less. He knealt down and removed the green cloak from his back. He looked at the symbol of the watch for a moment with grief in his eyes, before he wrapped it around Samara's mostly naked body. He said a few soft words, "I'm not leaving you here, come on." He put his right arm around her torso and under her arms, and his left under her thighs to pick her up, cardling her in his plated arms. Assuming she would let him...

Samara Asenta​

 

[Samara Asenta]

Samara offered no resistance as Cauldwin collected her in his arms. With her in his embrace she was close enough to hear mumbled words over her broken lips. "I love you. I love you. Please..." When her head rolled against the man's shoulder, her unblinking gaze shifted slowly toward him. The placating words stopped as Cauldwin's face came into focus.

Instead, her right hand slowly rose to press against his shoulder in vain as if to escape. "No... Danger... Leave me."

A translucent man appeared in the doorway to the cell dressed in armor the likes of which Cauldwin had likely never seen. That of a Seraph of Samara's reclusive community. When he crossed the threshold the specter faded, and instead the corridor outside fell away if two points in space were stitched together. A giant hall at the opposite end of which stood a eight-foot tall, faceless form with her arms held open wide as a group of five and another Samara faced it. The second Samara seemed to break free of the rest, hands extended out toward the stark-white creature; but once she entered its reach, the Elven woman was swatted aside to crumble to the floor off to the side. The scene froze with the five bracing to charge the demon that stood before them.

"Can't... leave..." Samara breathed as her back suddenly arched in Cauldwin's hands, her mouth parted wide with the elongated canines in plain view. A soft choking sound from deep within shook free of her throat.

"You expect us to trust you?" a male voice asked from behind Cauldwin as the back of the cell had fallen away to reveal a luxurious study of some kind. "The demon's influence has not diminished since your return, Samara. You are a danger to everyone around you. Including yourself. That we are even having this conversation--"

Perched overhead, attached to the wall, was a dark, indistinct figure of some kind. Almost a shadow. Its purpose was unclear until a silver blade emerged in what was probably its hand. Neither Elf below seemed to have notice it poised to strike.

Suddenly her teeth snapped shut as a sliver of strength and color returned to Samara's eyes. "Help... me."

Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr

 

[Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr]

He gazed down at her, his green eyes piercing through the tunnel like burrows in the blackened, vissageless helm. It was clear that she was far from all there.

"I love you. I love you. Please..." When her head rolled against the man's shoulder, her unblinking gaze shifted slowly toward him.

Love? She was clearly mad, or delirious. Likely she presumed he was someone she once had great feelings for, seems he wasn't the first iron clad warrior she has been in the company of. He spoke reassuredly given the trauma she was in, "Shh shh shh, it's alright. We're getting out of here..." Her words ceased, and her expression changed as it seemed she was able to see more clearly who she was in the arms of, he began to stand...

her right hand slowly rose to press against his shoulder in vain as if to escape. "No... Danger... Leave me."

Was she warning him of danger and telling her to leave her behind? Was she saying it was safer for her here? Or was she worried he was going to bring her to some grand execution? He supposed he did look a bit like an executioner, but leaving her here was out of the question. Suddenly he heard footsteps behind him. He quickly turned to see nothing but the darkness of the cell entrance. That was disconcerting to him.

He carried her out with him into the halls of the Hellward. He couldn't see a damn thing in either direction, the only light came from the candles in Samara's cell. He noticed she seemed to be looking at something in the distanced, almost reaching for it in her weak state. Then he heard a snap, an oh so familiar snap as a ball of fire launched down from the previously walled off side of the hall. Briefly illuminating a siluette as it flew at him. He only had time to turn and cover samara as the hellish red flame engulfed him.

"Can't... leave..." Samara breathed as her back suddenly arched in Cauldwin's hands, her mouth parted wide with the elongated canines in plain view. A soft choking sound from deep within shook free of her throat.

He opened his eye to see his armor was now smoldering and charred. His hand was now missing once gain, and yet despite this he felt no pain, and the heat did no harm upon Samara. This was a manipulation, he had to remember. He stood up with Samara in his arms, himself now giving off a red glow as he turned to walk in the other direction.

"You expect us to trust you?" a male voice asked from behind Cauldwin

He took this as the wound trying to toy with him, mimicking one of his fellow watchman. He replied, at first ashamedly then more defiantly, "Forgive me, forgive me not... It changes nothing." He wasn't going to stop, the wound must be sealed, and this attack on his and his companions' psyche was not doing it any favors.

The demon's influence has not diminished since your return, Samara. You are a danger to everyone around you. Including yourself. That we are even having this conversation--"

Whatever this was, it seemed to be pulling all its efforts into weighing down on Samara. He mused it was cowardice, can't break the warriors' Iron will so it focuses all its might on the wom- she-el- VAMPIRE. He caught himself in his thoughts, Samara was no human, he had to remember that.

Suddenly her teeth snapped shut as a sliver of strength and color returned to Samara's eyes. "Help... me."

He looked down into her eyes, and she (if she was perceiving what he was) looked into the red flame inside the helm. He immediately looked ahead and picked up the pace. He spoke to her, his voice now deep and guttural, "Work'n on it, las. Stay wid me. We're gettin' ou' ah 'ere."

Samara Asenta​

 

[Samara Asenta]

Samara's eyes slowly closed before they popped back open again. Pools dark as the abyss they walked filled the sockets of her skull without even the rings of white blazing in them. "Hurry. It's a trap," her voice had a breezy quality to it, like it floated on the wind rather than rippled through it. "It builds walls of the past. Walls of pleasure. Walls of pain. You never want to leave. Can't leave. You'll stay with them forever. Forever," she sighed the last word.

"The door." Her voice regained more of its strength when she spoke again. "Find it. The way out. Make it if you have to. It's there. You'll know it when you see it -- it won't be just any door. Take it and we'll be free of this. Free of the maze. Hurry."

The color of the Dark Elf's skin was started to grow more pale by the minute in Cauldwin's arms.

Yes, Samara remembered this place. One like it. She saw it when her eyes closed mid-day to escape the reproachful, burning gaze of the sun. It punished her for giving in. Punished her. As though the celestials had deign lift a finger. As though they cared. Toys meant to dance on a world they abandoned because some manifestations didn't play by their rules.

"Free to rip the Heart apart. Free to leave this gods forsaken place," Samara suddenly growled. "The gods want us trapped here. Trapped in darkness, forced to destroy these beasts because they cannot lift a finger to correct their wrongs." The fangs were bared to the air once more as the Elven woman shifted in Cauldwin's arms. Restlessness crawled through every fiber of her being. "So let's do it then. You, me, those like us. Clean up their mess." And then they would make the world see the gods weren't worth worshiping -- that they never provided anything.

Dshara was not whispering in Samara's ear, but she knew the Dark One's thoughts. Knew how she felt. The anger. The rage, The outrage of having been imprisoned within sight of everything she loved, but powerless to touch it. They wanted to destroy the Old World so that a New One could be born! It made sense... As the horrors from the past revisited Samara, everything seemed so clear as she clung to the anger to keep her wits about her.

Tag: Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr

 

[Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr]

She told him it was trap, at this point he had surmised that aspect of the event.

"It builds walls of the past. Walls of pleasure. Walls of pain. You never want to leave. Can't leave. You'll stay with them forever. Forever," she sighed the last word.

"The door." Her voice regained more of its strength when she spoke again. "Find it. The way out. Make it if you have to. It's there. You'll know it when you see it -- it won't be just any door. Take it and we'll be free of this. Free of the maze. Hurry."

He sprint didn't stop or slow, he looked down at her. Her eyes filled with shadow and her skin paled. Her flesh resembled his in a rage, where shadow and smoke seemed to pour into the air from orifices'. Her eyes drew him in, the shadowy strands of black smoke, they danced in his mind like sultry shapes. He managed to pull his gaze away, everything here was a manipulation: even the woman he was currently trying to save.

He had doubts this was the wounds influence, it was doubtless her goddess. Trying... he didn't know what. He was either a toy, or perhaps this was some bizarre ritual. Maybe Samara was worth more than just a vessel to her, a pawn in her own right that he was moving. Even so the method seemed very counter intuitive, though he couldn't be surprised when dealing with mad, self proclaimed "gods".

"Free to rip the Heart apart. Free to leave this gods forsaken place," Samara suddenly growled. "The gods want us trapped here. Trapped in darkness, forced to destroy these beasts because they cannot lift a finger to correct their wrongs." The fangs were bared to the air once more as the Elven woman shifted in Cauldwin's arms. Restlessness crawled through every fiber of her being. "So let's do it then. You, me, those like us. Clean up their mess."

It was clear to Cauldwin, Samara was becoming affected by D'shra. If only his god was so attached. In her mad rant, he could relate to some small part. "If we don', who will?" He kept running, a wave of miasmic black liquid rushed from the darkness towards them. He didn't falter, he charged into the wave, his grip on Samara tightened as he braced for the impact. The wave of pitch black liquid crashed over them, leaving Cauldwin blind a deaf for a few moments before emerging from the other side.

It spilled away from them, the liquid now swamped the floor up to Cauldwins ankles, the dark stone brick walls and ceiling now changed to rusted iron bars. Whatever behind them was shrouded by dark. The green Cloak he wrapped Samara in had become his worn battered fur cloak, and his armor returned to its rusted state. He kept moving, cautiously now however. The firmness in how he now held Samara was more akin to how one holds another when terrified.

Samara Asenta​

 

[Samara Asenta]

Samara turned her eyes toward Cauldwin's head at the sound of his voice. His acceptance of their calling. Yes, of course he agreed. A soldier like him? One sent back to purge the darkness from the realm..! Then the crash of that cold, consuming black washed over there.

The moment where the world went away. Everything gone. Just Samara in the void. Alone. Why was she always alone? What had she done to deserve to be banished? All she wanted was to make the world better for her kin.

Then life returned, such as it was. Only now a fur cloak was wrapped about her body. Samara's hand slowly closed about a clutch of that fur before she drew it tighter against her. The lids of her eyes drooped as she remain bundled in another's arms. She turned her gaze up at the man that carried her then. She could feel his arms about her; feel the way he held her close while his eyes were fixed ahead at whatever awaited them.

"There's a part of me that wishes to bite you," she breathed, "to feed. A part of me desires to bite you to turn you. And a part of me... that wishes I could rip these fangs out so I could just lay in your arms." Of course Cauldwin as she knew him outside of the Wound wouldn't be victim to either of the first two. Yet the yearning was still there. Something to prey upon. Something to keep and control. And then there was the Samara that really had wanted nothing more than to do what was right.

"It could be worse," the Elf's voice grew quieter. "Each of us could be here alone... with no one to remember us." Samara's eyes fluttered for a moment before she forced them open again. It was strange but the overwhelming rage from earlier had completely vanished. It was almost comfortable in the fur cloak in Cauldwin's arms. Samara was only vaguely away of their surroundings and how they'd changed.

"Do you think that's what they felt?"

Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr

 

[Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr]

"There's a part of me that wishes to bite you," she breathed, "to feed. A part of me desires to bite you to turn you. And a part of me... that wishes I could rip these fangs out so I could just lay in your arms."

That was the last thing he needed right now. He's somewhere in hell, and now the crazy vampire elf-lady simultaneously wants to sire him and is telling him sweet nothings. It would be flattering if he wasn't facing down an enemy unknown. "Stupid sexy vampires...", he was too focused on the hellish nightmare realm trap about spring around him to care about what he had just said. He took steps forward, the loud splashing echoing through this ominous place.

"It could be worse," the Elf's voice grew quieter. "Each of us could be here alone... with no one to remember us." "Do you think that's what they felt?"

As soon as she asked this, skeletal and ash-covered arms sprung out from the darkness and through the rusted and blood colored bars. They groped at him from all directions, and the unending screams. Hundreds, thousands, maybe millions of intangible words roared at him. Where he still corporeal, he would have become mercifully deaf from the shear decibel of the noise, but in this state there was no such mercy. He hunched over hard, recoiling from the pain and trying to cover Samara from the hands above.

He sprinted forward, pulling out from the grasp of the unnaturally elongated arms. As he ran, blackened armor-clad arms reached out of the black tar beneath them. He kept charging forward, pulling his legs out of the grasp of the blackened arms as well as the ones from behind the bars. He kept running, and dodging, and pulling away from the arms that tried to grab onto him and Samara. Even after almost a mile of struggling, this hall of horrors seemed to have no end...

Blinding green light poured from somewhere in the dark in front of him, the hands became more relentless in response, attempting to tear at him and Samara. He kept charging. As he neared the green light a wall of the dark ichor rose behind them, and quickly began to close upon them. Long inky hands emerged from the liquid grasping at their direction. The dark liquid at his feet now bogged him down like mud, rising to his knees. He pushed hard trying to reach the green light, just as the wall of ichor covered hands would reach them he barreled forward, entering the light which was so brilliant it would blind both of them for a moment.

The realm remained still.​

He turned that his back would hit the ground first, but he did not feel the hard impact of a solid wall, nor did he feel the wetness of a liquid. Through his plates the pressure was shifted, it was soft. Soft and cool, with crisp fresh air. The ear ripping cacophony ceased. His eyes began to slowly adjust to the light, he still clung to Samara. He got to his knees and looked around, he saw light grey, ash-looking snow of the rusted realms lit by the soft dim blue light of the cosmos above. This piece of the realm was small, its ends were visible to him, as the land simply stopped after a mile or two. In the center before them was a large twisted, leafless, black oak that raised upwards.

Cualdwin removed his helmet, realizing what had happened, it revealed the silvery-mail of his chainmail hood. Looking at his hands still wrapped around Samara he saw his clawed grafted arm. He looked up at the tree and spoke reverently in wiir, "Þakka þér Stríðsföður (Thank you Warfather)..." He sighed exasperated, holding samara close to his breastplate.

Samara Asenta​