IC: From the Depths

[Shawn]

Hmph. This place hasn't changed. Dull and dreary as ever.

A few moments pause.

Don't look at me like that! I know I said I have never been here before. It does not mean that my child wasn't. I thought I explained this to you!

The silence picks up again, only to be broken.

Okay, okay. Let's just do this and get it over-with. This Darkbane land drives me nuts.

A man moves along the darkened, decayed path with little to show for his hasty words save for a companion that seems to be restless. A large, hulking mass of black fir hunched over with teeth that glimmer even in a realm of total pitch seems irritated, moving with obvious displeasure at the man clad in the darkest of red beside him. A sigh escapes pursed lips as heavy eyes fall closed, an appearance of sleep deprivation apparent upon the man's face. Oh, the tales he could tell. A gauntlet reaches down and caresses the black armor, two fingers lightly stroking it almost apologetically. It was true, the man hated bringing the beast to places like this. Hell, even He hated coming to places like this, but there was unfinished business here.

A child. The man spoke of a child. One would wonder, who would let a child into the lands of the Darkbane? What sick, twisted, vile creature of madness would allow the purity of youth to fall into the dark and abysmal home of those who were enwreathed in the wicked and darkest of arts? The truth was, this child was no real child. It was merely a fragment of the man who walked here, now, in search of something the child supposedly left behind in this place in it's great haste to leave. An artifact. A piece of itself was left there, though there was truly no hint to it's existence other than rumor and speculation. Needing to see just what the child may have left behind, the man pursued further into the depths of this land. The child was one of immense power, levels that dwarfed almost all the other children the man had at any given time.

Tongra Bloodbourne. A creature. An entity that went by many names. It represented the dark, brooding, lust-filled desires of a man who had never truly grown until it was separated from him. A creature that commanded power over shadow and blood alike, a demon and a God in many of his own ways. A man who called himself the Black Tiger God. So needless to say, an artifact to the caliber of the one who wielded it - or perhaps, even created it - would prove beneficial and nothing less. There were rumors that Tongra had left a necklace here. One with a black diamond situated in the center. Some said it was meant for the only woman he truly loved with all his wicked, non-existent heart.

But since the man in red seemed to care little for the lore other than the power, it was where he was headed. Right into the nest of the Darkbane. Knowing that since times had long since passed and the clan was virtually desolate, Shawn feared little for any and all who would dare cross his path. Whether it was arrogance or Shawn knew more than he let on would remain to be seen, as for now he would continue deeper into the womb of this land.

[~*Haunted Beauty*~]

[align=center]"Who is this?"
"I do not know. Ask?"
"They have returned. Our souls are damned."
"They have come to steal away what little of us is left"
"ssssssh, they will here the tongues of the hapless ones."
"They will not mourn for us, but rob us of our peace."
"No good can come of this"
"No good."[/align]

[align=justify:abfb6da3d8]..... cries faintly heard upon the chilly winds as unfurled hatreds bloom and unfold. Whimpers, moans and anguishes merging from every wipsy shadows. Every crevice of sorrow these lands have bleed from every single living thing that had been tainted by its harsh, mericless hands. [/align:abfb6da3d8]

[align=center]"Silence!!! We are but the wind, nothing more"
"yes! We are nothing more."
"Nothing...."
"....no more....[/align]

[align=justify:abfb6da3d8]Then the sounds faded but the lingering essence of sorrow and pain seemed to grow and more with each passing moment. Every footstep and every breath. For all the death and blood, for all the broken bones and skulls. All the bodies and souls this land had taken a spirit emerged from the burning coals of the burning wood and blackened ash. The fiends that had been Darkbane, the extinguishers of all life, the bringers of death. This is what they were but long gone all that was now left were the miserable souls of ghosts mourning for the light or the means of passage from this barren wasteland of purgatory, of hell. It was these wraiths that whispered, mourned in sufferance unable to break free from the chains of wicked spells.

Wandering amorphous figures danced in ebony wreathes behind the travelers, lost were they in their paths and any life form they leeched onto with as much vigor as a parasite. Ethereal tatters flagging about in the rancid frozen winds like fog gathering to smother all warmth and existence. Spiraling around limbs,  grayish ribbons to decorate in death shrouds. Again the voices softly emerged through the ash imbued winds.[/align:abfb6da3d8]

[align=center] ”Why are you here?”
”No, turn back”
”Leave!!”
”No, death is here.”
”DEATH IS HERE!!!”[/align]

[align=justify:abfb6da3d8]Variations of muted voices merging into louder and disharmonious notes of doom. Whether these spirits intended to warn or throw the travelers off from whatever they sought here, only the travelers could assume. Physically they could not harm, elementally their powers were limited to that of air and earth. But no doubt the travelers would detect they were the souls of those who had died here, slaughtered in battles, sacrifices or personal amusement from torture and rituals. There was nothing of life here, whatever artifact these strangers were questing for was nothing of their knowledge but who knows within the maelstrom of uselessness there could easily be a shade of one who once possessed the name. For not all the victims who had died here, had been brought here. Some were of its very blood. All they had to do was find it or the place this item had been very well hidden.

It was then that the voices turned into screams. A change in the energy around the place, having detected the awakening of one so old she had been forgotten. Pandora. The winds turned from mild to violent, outraged. Clouds rolling over the sky in blackness as lightening inflicted the skies with radiance of red. The heavens were bleeding. Ghost-like arms reaching out through the smoke, grapping at the travelers garments and limbs only to pass through them. Nothing of substance, Nothing but air. But they pointed towards the ruins of a temple.[/align:abfb6da3d8]

[align=center]”she’s awake”
”SHE’S AWAKE”
”There in the darkness.”
”STAY AWAY!!!”[/align]

[align=justify:abfb6da3d8]It may have meant nothing to those walking the path of the dead. But the screams would certainly cause attention enough towards the temple. Maybe their voices wouldn’t perturb the strangers, then again maybe they would. There was no means to influence their mission. Maybe their words would do more to aid than hinder. Who could guess? Certainly not the spirits, but maybe the outsiders crossing over from life into a realm of death. What was this item of importance? Only these outsiders obviously knew. [/align:abfb6da3d8]

[The Howling]

All dark places had dark creatures, it came with the territory. Another creature lurked in the sable shelters of the shadows. Obsidian maws dripping with ancient vemons as its body remained crouched, just watching. It had been what seemed to be years, maybe even centuries that life walked these plains of soot and earth. Parts of the land black, ravaged by fire and the chalky residue of crushed bones, eroded by the weather. Sniffing at the air, muzzle grimacing into a sneer while nostrils flared in and out, drawing in the precious scents. The creature didn't smell the ravishing scent of fear in these dwellers, for now it was the only reason it remained back in the shadows. Watching.

From above, just upon a cragg on the edge of a cliff it remained watching, leaping from ridge to ridge so that its interest didn't vanish off into the blackened yonder. Curious to see what had brought them here? No one came here for no reason, often to bring back their wretched dead loved ones back to life, curses or other dark reasons for magic. It was never for no reason and the temple spires had long been empty of power. Like a monster cursed to eternal sleep. All this creature knew was no longer did it recive its sraps from the mistresses hands, long had it not felt slender fingers through its mantle of thick black fur. Hunger plagued the ancient sumerian beast. Hunger plagued its sleep and dreams. No longer was its fur soft, now it was matted, thick with the gore of kills and having to pick the scraps from the flesh left to rot from the bones of those dead to battle. Or those too curious for their own good.

Crimson eyes shifting to study these foreigners, squinting to further the distance of sight. Again sniffing at the air, ears shifting to listen in closely to any words spoken that were of familiarity. Even if they became aware of its presence, for now it wasn't hostile. The hunger for fresh blood was being controlled by what little of its will it had left. It wasn't a beast without reason, just one that remembered its punishments well in the past. Like any animal you punish it hard enough, it begins to obey. Unfortunately the severe hand of its mistress had not been too stern and old habits were beginning to return fast. It did not smell its mistress on these creatures, just in case she was trying to trick it. She was a clever mistress, it made no mistake about that. Then again maybe these before it were just as clever and just as cruel.

[Shawn]

A gauntlet hand would rise from beneath the cowl and cloth of his large cloak, coming to the man's forehead and brushing the hair back. He laughed. Laughed. The whispers that had come had fallen upon deaf ears, for he cared not of who dwelled in this land. He who was soulless could gorge himself upon these spectral essences, rendering them null and void. But such would be the way of arrogance in his mind, therefore he would not attempt to sully his hands upon souls too weak to protect themselves. A man of honor, he was.

The lone creature at his side snarled but made no move to alter it's path, keeping to the side of it's master. Even as the ghastly hands reached forth only to trail through the armor-clad figure, perhaps even they would sense the raw essence emanating from that which composed this man. As the temple came into view, the cries and screams in fact caught the man off guard. The skies trembled and roared, foretelling the truth of what should come forth. Where there should have been fear, there was a glimmering anticipation in the wild-eyed man. Gaze fixated upon the temple, he seemed almost animalistic with excitement to discover what may lay dormant here. Perhaps, even, a soul worth sating his hunger?!

SHE'S AWAKE

"Who?"

The stranger asked, finally composing himself once more. The orb that would normally float above his shoulder instead came from beneath his cloak, moving before the specters that followed step by step. A red sphere shifted back and forth, studying the specimens that were lost in translation. The man would never turn back, never drop his gaze for now his goal was well within his sights. Without giving more than a brief second to answer him, a more vicious voice arose.

"WHO?!"

 The orb spazzed. Spikes jutted out in all directions as it shook vigorously, quivering with what seemed to be a mix between anticipation and fear.

Make no mistake about it, the man was intrigued. The moment they said "She's Awake" he took to the recesses of his mind, shifting files to a specific directory: Tongra Bloodbourne. Again he searched, sifting through the names of women related to Darkbane that he knew. Atra, was it? Perhaps yes, perhaps no. Cycles of information from millenia would pass through his mind in but a brief moment, retelling the history Tongra had here. The Temple was precisely where he was headed.

The creature that followed him caught the attention of his companion, but Shawn feared nothing of a lowly beast. His manipulation of the various elements were but a trifling beginning to the arts possessed within him, now. There was nothing this place had that he hadn't seen, including it's spires that could supposedly suppress power. They had most likely never encountered a creature like this man before, but who knows? He was not here to fight, after all, but if they brought one to him - oh yes, there would be blood.

[Ladislas]

In the dimmest darkest corner, hidden away and covered in dust and strung with the webs of countless generations of spiders, stood what appeared to all glances a statue carved from the darkest obsidian... A statue of essentially humanoid form but with a semblance of serpentine effulgance. A forked tongue extending twixt the stone cast lips, a subtle indicator of the sculptors art. Miniscule particles fragrancing the atmosphere, tantilising and dancing on the motes of dust bequeathed zephyr.

The motion indicative of presence, the presence causing ripples far beyond anticipation for they reached within the standing form, tweaking potentials, firing synapses amidst the slow molecular depths. A shuddering deep within the stone as electro magnetic impulses stimulated a mutation on a deep near atomic level, speeding the motion of electrons and protons, particles once slow moving and stable, twisting in paradoxical distortion, vibrating in rapid stimuli as the mass of the statue altered in near magical fashion to draw life into the shadow of lifelessness.

The tips of what once was stone tongue, vibrating in extreme rapidity seeking to taste the stranger moving in this place, stone become flesh, the rest of the body quick to follow as the momentum of change spread with venomous rapidity, skin, hard and scaled enfleshing the form, pallid greyness of stone taking the deep rich mottle of serpentine sheen, lips blackening to midnights apparations, the eyes, the eyes taking on a silvered embullience gleaming, glowing in the depths of darkness surrounding his form. The mouth now open revealing razor sharp fangs amidst gleaming obsidian teeth, tongue lashing out again and again deciphering the undercurrants of scent, so delectable on the palate. Course, reptilian appendages, heavy mithral claws extended outwards then flexing, droplets of dark potence forming on their tips as the last hint of stony respite left his form, shaking himself to clear the webs binding upon him, head facing upards in the truth of his serpentine vagarity Ladislas took a step out from the gloom surrounding him.

The air held the scent of multiple presences, that of a male, a warrior perhaps, for the smell of battle clung to this presence, steel, blood and pain travelled with this one. An ectoplasmic variance flittering across the forks of his tongue, giving rise that the undead spirits moved and swayed as always they had and would, yet there seemed an excitement in their flavour, perhaps due to the mans presence. Another presence, smelling of ancient and perverse hungers, a creature of the mistress for only her whim made such hungers and Ladislas accepted this as ally for such creatures protected that which should not be revealed and lastly a presence to which Ladislas had no memory execpt for a passion in his blood recognising elsewhere in her own formal awakening, one whom held them power of blood and agonies... But she would be for later, for now his desire was to seek and investigate the newcomer, the male whom he recognised not, perhaps seeking power, perhaps seeking an artifact of some descript.

It made no matter to Ladislas, until otherwise instructed, by she that forged his presence, he would go forth in all his venomous semblance, his breath chilling forth from his body surrounding him in a glowing miasma, his eyes cutting through the inked penetrance with their toxic mercuric glimmer to seek this newcomer,  the gaze of Ladislas held far more then courage could possibly permit... and its indiscrimination knew no restrictions... Striding forth he would seek this newcomer, discover what he sought and what right he believed he held to stand in this unholiest of places.

[Shawn]

Shawn continued onward for what seemed an eternity of boredom, conversation all but dwindling between his beastly companion and the spectral anomalies behind him. The orb that gazed upon them slipped back beneath his cloak, though this time it would burrow deep underground beneath the guise of his shadowed figure. The only one who would know it's whereabouts was him, the one who controlled it. Otherwise it was the equivalent of the earth itself - taken, established and invisible.

If one inspected his form closely, no breath would escape his lips despite his exasperated sighs and inhales. He did not breathe for the purpose of survival, but for the purpose of communication through physical or verbal means. Time pressed on and he did as well, yet still with no answer from the haunts that pursued a hopeless endeavor. They would find no excitement from the man anymore, for his goal was now more focused than ever and set in stone before his very eyes. The Temple. A wreckage, a smile crept upon his lips as the devastation found way into a clearer view. In this, he would feel no remorse rummaging through the aftermath in search of his prize.

The beast beside him hissed and gazed from side to side, sockets as pitch as the void would scan the area as it sensed more and more awakening around them. It took only a moment of this attention for a hand to move to it's mane, patting it on the armor as the man stopped to crouch beside the beast. Empty sockets softened as the head moved and nuzzled against the man, clearly responding to his calming actions without hesitance. The man would once more rise to his feet and resume walking, the creature fixating gaze upon him for a little while longer before making way to his side. It seemed less restless now than it had earlier; less anxious and fearful, more serene and peaceful.

Shawn approached now, moving beyond what was once a mighty gate that now lay in debris. The stairs had crumbled in various places, tired and worn stone so weak and lifeless that it could give way at any moment. Feather-like footsteps would take the heavy, armor-clad man up to the door. Amazingly, it was still standing.

It was true and within good reason the Burgeus could sense apparitions aplenty in this place, as Shawn could sense them very well. Synapse would release in distorted resonant waves, reverberating through sub-atomic particles at such an accelerated rate that there was no inhibiting force applied to the structural integrity of the existent reality about him. This ultra-sensory was a concentrated one, partitioning half his enhanced abilities into sensory alone. This, however, gave him a wicked perception of time to the point where it seemed like an eternity had passed since he started walking up until the door. He was well aware that something - no, several things had awoken from the very moment a sabaton fell upon this tainted land. He now knew just where it was.

This being said, the warrior's focus digressed and his natural form found itself within a high speed vertigo of perception - a second was finally a second once more. The lumbering creature moved itself to steady it's master as he stumbled, using it's powerful body and well fitting armor as a brace. A few moments to regain his composure and he would look down once more to his concerned brethren, nodding to affirm his condition had righted itself. True, this man was once a Keeper of Time and Knowledge. An eternity was something he'd spent alone many times over, watching and recording events all throughout history - events that had not even happened yet. This perception was still potent enough, however, to jaunt even his most steadfast of senses.

A gauntlet rose from beneath the cowl and rapped against the door, awaiting a response before he may attempt to enter. If they were awake and he truly wanted to avoid a fight, they would not exactly like him breaking the door down. Then again, he cared not to answer their questions either. Why he was here was of his own business - if they did not allow for him to accomplish his task, he would see to it they would not stand in his way.

[Shawn]

Hnn...how interesting, Burgeus. It seems they want us to make ourselves at home.

With a mediocre partition of power, the mighty warrior would knock upon the door with vigor and force. The result was loud, obnoxious and violent. The door flying from it's hinges and slamming into the wall across the way, impacting and compacting itself within it. It would most likely draw the attention of others, now that he thought about it. But perhaps, in his vain attempts at remaining civil, not answering the door to his likings was almost insulting. Especially if they knew he was here.

Walking inside, Shawn would gaze around at the architecture, observing whether it was by some great folly that the door would move so easily or if he had just become that powerful. The structural integrity of this place was - for the most part - still solid enough to hold, even with this place in shambles.

From an artistic standpoint, it was disastrously beautiful. Even the crumbling walls gave this place an eerie yet serene feeling, like it housed many over the years whom could fill such decadent halls. This place carried with it a sense of familiarity, as if some point in the warrior's life this place had been an adventure for him. A flashback would force itself into his mind, enough to jar him for the moment. Twice already he suffered an episode to assault his senses. This place was not good for him.

Ugh...no hospitality and twice already I've been dizzied from coming here. Let's get this overwith quick.

Slamming the palm of his hand onto the floor, a glyph would form and glow brilliantly before sizzling out of existence. From there, Shawn would plop onto the floor with feet on the ground and knees up. Placing his elbows on his knees, Shawn would sit and lean back against the implanted door either waiting for it to show up or waiting for someone to respond to his actions.

In truth, Shawn would soon be lost in his own little world with the Burgeus at his feet. Partitioning all his power into his perceptions, time would dilate for him and soon all things would begin to slow. This was how he kept time to himself, for himself. Allow the whole of existence to slow to a crawl.

[DeMolay Darkbane]

[align=justify:6808f6bc62]Kadasha did not know why she bothered checking on the haunts of old. Haunts that had gone from sour to rotten during her course of having to stain herself with the ghosts of broken victims. Kadasha had never been one to involve herself in the pitiful squabbles that had long suffocated her will to even allow the blood to flourish. Still, there had been some fond memories through the misery. Darkbane, yes it had once been a name of fear and oblivion, now, nothing but dust and bones. It deserved to stay dead and buried at least from a follwers prospective. Kadasha had no delusions about her place within the clan, unlike some who thought themselves Gods and Goddesses, or placed upon high to be revered when in actual fact they all had been gravely forgotten. Ske never spent a second thinking of their names or faces, for the best bit they all remained in the darkness, buried beneath the earth.

Kadasha was just a vampire, bitten by the Arch Priest of Darkbane,Ballathor. She played her par well to bring the death of innocents but never anything on a grand scale unlike the likes of Atra'Lamia Darkbane, Blissul or Malice. Still the role she played was still a role, she revered in death even bathed in it. Slaughtered virgins and the young, there was little else to do in order to place her name up there amongst the true greats. There wasn't even a time Kadasha even remembered Atra'Lamia let alone Pandora, maybe she wasn't good enough to enrapture in their presences? Did she have bitterness in her blood in regards to this? Yes. But bitterness made it all the more sweeter to bless oneself in more bloodshed and souls.

She didn't know what it was that caused her to rise from the fruitless soul like a corpse animated from its bed of silk and wiltered roses. Nothing came directly to mind other than the activity which stirred her curiousity. Such a curious creature Kadasha was. Then again the sounds that stirred her from the womb of darkness, meant nothing compared to the pulsation of the black stone about her throat. The stone once of Colvin that had been ever so deviously changed to that of the true avatar of Darkbane, the Dimmu. It was its blood that now coursed through the veins of every Darkbane member, not Colvin's and not Pandora's.

A plume of shadow, spiralling uncontrollably from the heart of the temple. Swirling upwards, forming the slender sleek shape of her womanly figure. Long limbs and the swaying of long tresses flowing over light armoured shoulders. There would be no mistake of her hertitage to the clan of Darkbane, by the emblem she wore around her neck unable to remove it. It was not within her power to renounce the name she swore her unlife to. Moving to the direction of the motion, the sound of movement or words spoken. Maybe she could help with their inquiry? Then again maybe she wouldn't be the gracious hostess anticipated. Through the murkiness of the temple she called out, demanding a reply of some form "Who goes there?".[/align:6808f6bc62]

[Shawn]

Rising up from his sitting position, Shawn would place his left palm upon the embedded door in action that seemed to boost him into position. In reality, as Shawn began to walk away, a piece of the door splintered into the palm of his hand in the form of a giant obsidian spike. As he walked with the spike in hand, roughly a foot taller than he, tribal markings found their way etched into steel-like structure.

It took but a moment before he made way to the very spot he once stood, where his palm had also been placed to the ground. There, in that very spot, one handed he would take the spike and slam it with one tip into the ground and the other pointing straight up - the perfect placement in the immediate center. Turning to Burgeus, Shawn would speak again.

"It's time...ignite the flames of vision and let's be on with it."

In but a moment, the creature would roar and a green flame would light itself just above the tip of the spike and cast a shadow in a cone underneath itself. It would then blink three times, then remain idle in it's spot - hovering in a majestic glory. However, this reaction clearly did not please the man who now stood in rage, infuriated by this.

"What is the meaning of this?! It says what I am looking for is right here! Yet I see nothing! It did not summon itself in my presence, nothing! Burgeus, what went wrong?!"

The beast growled at him, taking Shawn back a moment - enough to even provoke a literal step backwards. Or at least, so he had thought, at first. Then, a woman's voice. "Who goes there?"

Within the recesses of Shawn's mind, a maniacal laugh escaped as his rage turned into delight. Glee. He was giddy, and it showed through his companion as it almost appeared to have smiled with it's razor-like teeth bared completely. Shawn would whisper, then, to his creature in a language no other could understand. It would make way behind his back and dissipate, absorbed by ebony tendrils and sucked into the ground.

"Who wants to know?"

[DeMolay Darkbane]

Kadasha heard the voice replying to through through the energetic vibes that were buzzing all around the temple vibrantly. She didn't need to be a high class magic user to detect such things when for long this temple showed nothing of power and none had entered it. Until now. She cared not of flamboyant styles, voices or the way a person/thing appeared, it was all too trivial for Kadasha. Her understanding of things saw beyond that of image and into that of whatever darkness they held inside the empty pits of their souls and hearts. Kadasha didn't pretend to know how to read this event, she simple didn't care enought to wrap herself in grandeur all of the sake of appearing menacingly only to be mocked. People just didn't scare as easily these days. Her attempts would merely be in vain.

One hand patted a yawn, it wasn't in due to the company she was sure but rather being so inactive, her senses were still not quite intune with the current surroundings. She knew enough that he was no Darkbane, most of them were so infant in their usage of powers it was purely laughable even embarrassing in comparison to the likes of Atra and Ballathor. She was sure they all attempted to make themselves all sound important when they were no better off than her, grunts, those inducted simply to shovel shit. Kadasha had accepted the true, maybe it was because she actually had brains that weren't situated between her legs? Remaining statue-like in expression, she moved forward to the travelers. Crossing the area circumferance where they were, doing whatever it was they were doing. She tried to figure it out, but then again, she was no magic or power user.

Eyebrow arch shifting upwards while attempting to study them but falling short and deciding to answer the question which seemed the most important element for the moment, though her reply wouldn't be a glorious one with title and all the typical Darkbane waffle that came with it, that was nothing but boring to her. Then again, talk was never a strong point of Kadasha's. "Ah, no one of any importance. But, perhaps I can assist you in whatever inquiry you within these dead halls? Looking for something, perhaps?" A slim smirk formed over dark red lips, there was no purpose behind it other than the anticipation for what their reply would be and if any name accompanied it.

[Ladislas]

Ensanguined depravations of molecular dissention carressing his senses as he strode from his place of solitude, the knock on the archaic doors echoing through the midnights sobriety, the silence of generations shattered. Serpentilian senses suddebnly ajar at teh formation of some glyph, for what purpose, beyond his awareness, but in doing so, making a claim on the place that in reality, they had no right to. Another presence, one of those bearing the right to be here moving to intercept and question the newcomer. Ladislas reacting in forebearance as his creator had designed. Tounge lashing forth as he strode, tasting, analysing, absorbing all he could regarding the newcomer.

It seemed the 'visitor' wanted something, none ventured into these chill darkened halls unless motivated by desire for something, imagined riches, lustful deire for death, the chance to claim status, everyone wanted something, everyone had their price excepting perhaps... So what trinket did this guest suppose he could waltz in and claim, for anything within these halls was of the clan per se and as such came under the goddess's whim. Foolish indeed to ponder removing osmething of a goddess's treasure, from the very stronghold wherein the goddess made her centre. Such issues however were not Ladislas's to decide, his nature was what it was, no more, no less. If they dared look upon him in his zenith, they would see for but a moment what the creator intended, then that same handiwork would run its own befoulments.

Rounding a corner and percieving Kadasha and the stranger, not attempting to shield his presence as he moved with reptilian fortitude towards them, the atmosphere surrounding his body swirling with the sufferance of potencies ecstacy, his eyes still looking upwards due to the physical alterations this form imbued. Ladislas spoke, a voice filled with mischevious resonances, sibilant huskings emerging in whispered hallowings... "what is this? who is this? does it profane the unholiness or does it offer the sacrificial virgin in hope of favour?" Rhetoric emerging, eyes averted, standing back a ways to allow Kadasha to continue her offering. Ladislas for now would wait, offering nothing, expressing nothing, locked in his miasma of mephitical malignancy...

[Shawn]

[align=right:bc69ceef6c][/align:bc69ceef6c]

The image both would come to, would indeed be something far different than had once remained within these halls. The man who was here moments earlier now looked strange, like a devil or a demon of sorts. Ram horns protruded from his skull, leathery wings expanding from his back and a scarlet hue to his skin. This was none other than Tongra Bloodbourne, known as the Black Tiger Demon God of Lust by many, Death by those who crossed him. His powers held sway over Shadow, Darkness, HellFire and Negative Energy. However, those who knew him best, knew him from his days in Bloodrain and his presence in Darkbane.

To be any of men...why choose this one? hissed a voice from the back of his mind, causing only the briefest of smiles to form upon the corner of his lips at the very same moment the woman would have come into view. Your mouth...silence it. was his mental response, taken in an extremely harsh tone from a voice akin to Shawn's own. The voice he would speak with now, however, carried a much different tone. It was slow and sensuous, dangerously so. It was not that there was an attempt to entice the female - he could care less about her or the man on his way, but rather it was only natural for him to speak as such.

"Why, I come here seeking--" and without time to finish, a man charged in abruptly causing Tongra to look his way even for the briefest of moments. As the man spoke, however, he would be politely ignored. Second to arrive though first to appear, who he was and what he was in this clan were after Tongra's time and thus beyond his caring. Instead, Tongra would continue to watch the woman as he spoke unto her and her alone.

"As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted; I come here if only to see what is left of this place I once swore to protect, and it does appear the throes of time did a number to her form." and with that, fingers would crease gently along the walls as raw power permeated from his very touch - colliding smoothly with the power this place still held, if only somewhat. It was clear that though beings of power remained, this place was all but weak.

[Feral Hungers]

An arousal of motion within the halls of a place bound under the darkest of motives, the tread of beings some of might, and others of dark servitude penetrating the obscure mythology of the lingering curse in which Adaghar wrapped himself in. Eyes snapping open a smirk crystallising his features in amused contemplation at the ways others perceived the realities they existed within. A hand reaching out to caress the energies of the glyph created for Adaghar's realm roiled with corruptive disingenuousness in reaction to any magic and although once outside of his realm he could not use it for his own disturbed graces, he could touch, twist and ponder its existence in his confinement.

Should he or shouldn't he now though was the question of perplexity, but he need not rush his decision, for in the world where such actions took place, mere moments would pass as he spent days contemplating what mischief he could create. Sitting, seemingly frozen in the streams of times irresistible momentum, he thought on just what could be gained by placing himself in the tangible realms again. Eventually deciding that hunger alone was a good enough reason, for while the scraps of agonised immortality flittered past, it wasn't the same as being present for the disillusionment of another’s being.

Rising to his feet, mind reaching out to caress his only servant that he would be gone, he strode to where his perceptions of the echo of the glyph still trembled and gently probed it, opened a doorway that would allow his shadowed essence to flow across the continuum and enter the realm in which all this took place. His form would only be noticed as no more then a decaying zephyr until he chose otherwise, his survival for so long a simple fact of only existing, once he crossed the boundary into flesh. Ancient antagonists were of far greater mettle then the current multi generational prospective, excepting of course one whom he had but briefly met.

A subtle manipulation, his form fading into gaseous non existence, allowing himself to flow via the glyph into the grey limbos, where creatures of legend even to the great evils still swam in ravenous degradation, Yet they would avoid Adaghar, simply for the fact they perceived his hungers greater then their own. The raw agonies of translation wrenching his senses into jubilant ecstasy for this was the very meat and bread of his existence, his pain, another’s pain all offered satisfaction. He loved the smell and taste of those whom used powers to fight for all power was food, be it a psychic attack, a fireball thrown or any form of energy, even the raw emotions of hand to hand combat were devoured although even he would admit, to eat and fight were much more difficult, then to simply devour raw energies of light or darkness.

Flowing through the lingering essence of the glyph, polymorphic semblance remaining undetectable, possibly one being may do so but she was not present, however the instant he flowed into the cavernous spaces, he felt something hinting of her very essence, and knew that perhaps another creature could sense the undetectable. The poisoned one held her flavour, how curious he found himself pondering, the delicate hint of her design resting upon his minds focus as he flowed, carefully for the toxins present could destroy him even in this state unless he was very careful... Poising to study those present, spirits, a a warrior of the clan that held this place, Something with the manner of a godling whom has not discovered that the climb into godhood gave more limitations then freedoms, amusing him greatly. He had little time for those of godly natures,

For now the feral hungers, insatiable depths would have to wait, as he poised himself to snack upon any possibilities and gave consideration to what possible point the situation attempted to prove in such demented fashion.

[DeMolay Darkbane]

Kadasha didn't know who any of these people were, and she didn't care. She knew the snake guy had essence of the Darkbane blood but didn't know the extent to his claim. His seemed stronger in a more condensed way which caused her to take a second thought into who he was. Maybe he was just another in a different form? That idea could not be ignored. As for the other presences, from what seemed slightly normal, now turned into someone completely different but she sure as hell could not stop herself from taking another look. A smile formed over her scarlet lips, only brief but long enough to be seen. His voice, sensuous, seductive, sultry causing even her to swoon for a moment before having to force her standing back to its cold, uncaring one. But she wouldn't appear rude, but what he said did interest her. A protector of this temple, Darkbane itself. Now that was interesting to her.

"As you can see, nothing is left. I guess this is a result of someone who turns her back, and makes sure nothing and no one is left to revive it. Clever and cruel I say. But if you are who you say you are, then you would know the cruel hand is that of a mistress." Kadasha smiled, this time a more compassionless. "They were punished because of their own treachery and greed. What better way to punish than to take the only thing of beauty here and turn it to stone?" Whether this man would understand her words or not was another thing, but she knew he wasn’t an idiot who just stumbled upon here for no reason. No one came here without a reason. Kadasha never had been one to associate herself with other creatures, a recluse by any standard and preferred to keep to herself, it was a good way to remain in one piece and not several. Her role was to be a servant of the temple, to bring sacrifices and newborn souls, her role was not a political one unlike the others, and she liked to keep it this way and it was the only reason she addressed these travelers. It was her duty in an odd kind of way.

Forcing her eyes to look down towards the ground, if she looked at this new figure longer than what she had to, it may been seen as inappropriate, and she didn’t think he would want a drooling fool in audience. "Nothing of time did a number to her form, just the refusal of blood and acceptance. Darkbane is motherless. Dead. I remain because it is all I know and I am not one to abandon my duty. I would not dare." It was no lie, Kadasha was scared of Atra’Lamia she would be crazy not to be. To abandon her duty would be a sign of weakness and betrayal, she knew the Queen herself had seen enough of it from this ungrateful disgrace of greatness, she would not be one to take up the fashion. "The last that were in these lands was Malice and Atrox. They too left, leaving their duty. But who are you people?" It was the last thing Kadasha would say unless she was asked a direct question and he replied to hers.

She felt another presence make itself known within the temple, it was another she did not know. Why had they come? Were they like crows, here to take whatever flesh was left to be offered. She would not be an easy target for them should that be the case. She may not know magic but she was good enough to live this long purely by the skill of sword and metal. Kadasha sisn't need fancy effects to get her point across. Turning to look at the shadows directly speaking to everyone (every essence) within the temple. "Who are all you people?"

[The Howling]

[align=justify:2bf9f1f9d5]Sniffing at the air, something smelled off, incredibly off and it wasn't its rancid fetid breath or the reoccurance of what it had to endure of a feast the night before. The wolf didn't like how the travelers smelled, was it of magic or something else? It couldn't determine what exactly it was, just that it didn't like it. Snorting once again at the air before turning back around, haunches keeping low while front paws scrapped at the dirt following the path of the strangers as best it could, creeping along the ground and keeping to the shadows of the cliff's peaks. Not by any means was this a brave creature, more like a dog that had been kicked a hundred times too many and left abandoned to the elements, left to starve. It didn't even crave to devour meat or tasty morsels of meat that traveled across the deserted plains.

Back in the days when it had a craving to hunt, to maim and kill this creature was a mighty beast to behold, but now it was nothing but skin and bones. Barely even skin, worn away to the bone and muscle. Mucas oozing from obsidian maws, pus, tatters of skin and sinew from all its dead carnage. Nothing but bones remained here and even then you would have to be lucky enough to find even that. Growling low to itself, barely even being able to find the strength to carry on, let alone find the curiosity to follow and see what this quest was. Where would it end? The creature could only wish for a death that would end its suffering, maybe it would find one with empathy in the temple, give it some meat in exchange for its loyalty?

The wolf knew all the underground passages beneath the temple, crawling its way up through the dusty, muddy earth to bring itself back into the heart of evil. Back arching as a grow manifested to all the strangers gathering in its centre. The only one who smelled remotely familiar was the serpent tongued male by the name of Ladislas. The name drifted into his mind from an unseen source, the distant sound of a woman's voice. Was it his mistress? It couldn't be, she left these plains along time ago and had never been felt again since. [/align:2bf9f1f9d5]