IC: ~The Darkbane Temple of Evil

[Eternal Goddess Pandora]

~Pandora’s hand reached out to touch the cheek of her clan daughter Malayeka, she could smell the essence of Darkbane blood running through her veins even though her memory did not serve her in regards to how she became a member. It had been an age since she stood here beneath the spires with her children, some memories were in the shadows while others clear as the day they were borne. Her mood had not improved, the ignorance of Atrox amazed her, then again when the going gets tough the weaker always got going and if that was the way he wished to be then so be it. It was his choice and soon he would regret it for Darkbane would ever go to his call, and should he even call to his brother at arms again, it would be to his death he would travel. With one hand touching the chin of Malayeka the other reached out to strike the thin air, her fingers combing through the shadows as if weaving them to a dark shroud.

The blood of Darkbane in Atrox would be taken back, and in its place a dark, cold emptiness would be in its place, for all time. It was in her power to punish her children how she saw fit, whether he be a weaver or not his power was not in the capacity of a Goddess for he had accepted her gift of blood when he joined Darkbane and now as it was extracted he would feel every essence of it slip away as if he never existed to it. In Pandora’s eyes he never existed at all, just another ghostly voice always demanding but never having the force or might to take it upon will. He had been given Atra, handed to him on a silver platter and yet he was always too weak to claim her, instead he came to seduce Pandora with empty words and promises.

A sacrifice she had demanded and in that sacrifice he had killed himself for her, and yet she had never released his soul therefore his presence in the mortal world was redundant, a weaver cannot weave nothing. Perhaps he should have thought of that in the first place before acting so hastily. Fanning the image away, knowing that she could do with his soul as she pleased, she did not want it so back to the darkness of her abyss did she throw it, far away from his reach for it was only by her death that his soul would ever be free. Putting her attention back to Malayeka, fingers stroking along her cheek lovingly as a Mother should ”I know your name to be Malayeka. I did call to you through the shadows to come once again to my side. We have much to prepare for, a time of darkness comes upon us and we must be ready for it.”

Pandora hated to bring her children into her own battles, but even though they were her children they were also her servants and what would be a more perfect time for them to prove their worth to her eyes, than to see if they could take down the greatest female Darkbane to have ever existed, Atra’Lamia Darkbane. She left the magic barriers of Malice rise to protect those who still held the faith of the temple and its dark powers, it pleased her to see that he acted quickly to the situation even though Pandora also knew he held a sense of great love for the Arch Priestess and rightful Queen of Darkbane, other than her. A fool could see that was something Pandora could never touch, but it was her whom Malice ravished so maybe this could be used to the advantage of the Goddess.

It had not been the first time that another who claimed to love Atra had come to bed Pandora and it would not be the last. There had not been one male Darkbane whom Pandora had not tasted it was her right to sample the nectars of her servants, a right she had all intentions on abusing for her own needs. Another of the daughters of Darkbane entered, one of older blood the statue that came to life, breaking through only to reveal itself for the monster it was. It brought a smile over Pandora’s cold lips as her tongue licked across them in delight. The loyalty of Straeges to Atra Pandora had to chose careful words and so she did ”Daughter of the Blood, I bid you welcome!” Simple and short, she knew the Strigoi would relate to that being a beast of simple words.

Malice returning to the throne room, Pandora nodding her head to his words while a finger pointed towards the throne at her side, what a perfect thing to stir the pot should Atra decide to place those threats to physical form before her, in her temple. ”My Warlord and consort, we have more daughters before us. It seems to me that the only loyal Darkbane’s other than you and Ballathor are the women” She laughed for she thought it funny that all the males who gave their blood to the clan were yet to be seen. ”Cowards and fools” she muttered under her breath before continuing to Malice in the presence of Straeges and Malayeka. ”Daughters, this is your Warlord and Master, you do as he instructs when he instructs it, it is about time that we brought pride back to the name of Darkbane and it starts with you.” Another cold smile crossed her lips for she knew the appetites of the warlord and had no problem should he wish to sate them.

”I see none as worthy Malice other than those who stand here before me, should any chose to cross those barriers hindered or not hindered their lives will be lost and their blood will paint these walls.” A cold hand reached over to brace his beneath hers as they sat their together looking upon the daughters of the Darkbane blood. It was then that she heard a sneeze, angered eyes flashing over to the direction where it seemed to echo, a grate or secret tunnel. A finger pointing to the direction ”Malayeka, bring the intruder to me!” Commanding Malayeka to grab the brat and drag it before her and Malice. Kadasha entering silently, standing with her head bowed before speaking, what was this was Atra losing all her followers and returning to the Mother of Darkbane? Another laugh echoed throughout the temple, things were slowly falling into place and she enjoyed every moment of it. ~[/size]

Sorry about the delay I had to wait until Dy and myself cleared a few things up and discussed what possibly may happen after this post. Excuse if I left anything out so work with me here lol

[Malice]

Patience is a virtue few men possess, though its rewards are as bountiful as any fruit.

Despite its enemies, despite the long years of toil, Darkbane had endured where others would falter, kept alive by the dark fires left in Pandora’s wake, and nurtured in Malice’s heart. Monstrous though he was, the Warlord couldn’t help but feel a deep-seeded sense of pride then, when the clan’s Monarch directed him towards a throne with a gesture of welcome, as if the blood he had shed in her name had finally been recognised.

During those cold winters of her absence, where Malice had loyally born Darkbane’s standard on his own, he had stood against insurmountable odds, faced the baying hounds of Ayenee at every turn, but though he stood victorious in the end, it had always felt so hollow. Flocking to his banner like leeches to a wound, he had attracted many followers to their cause in the past, but no matter how many skulls he shattered beneath his heel, he harboured no illusions about who the true rulers of the infamous clan were. Skilled with blade, if not word, Malice had been little more than a steward in reality, tending their reputation with brutal and unrelenting savagery in a desperate bid to ensure that should Pandora return, there would be something left when the dust of numerous wars settled.

Genuine though his intentions may have been, however, they were undermined by the duplicitous actions of Kalicity, a memory that caused his gauntlets of black steel to clench in anger at the very thought. Had she but dared to show her face, once he had discovered her treachery, he would have torn her to pieces with his bare hands, but revenge could wait, for now, as he concentrated on matters more pertinent to Darkbane’s future instead. Heralded by the words of his Queen, the armoured bulk of the Warlord slowly advanced towards his rightful place at her side, measuring every step as if it held the weight of aeons, for this was what he had been waiting for, a chance to serve his leader’s will and demonstrate the strength he now boasted.

Lowering himself into the throne he was offered with a great deal of reverence, the pitch-black eyes of the Great Devourer swept hungrily across the room’s interior as Pandora’s next sentence washed over him, discerning the smallest details of her loyal children with his gaze. “ There are indeed few men worthy of your favour, my liege, but perhaps my loins will offer you soldiers for sons, rather than weak-minded cattle that dwell in shadow. “ A devilish smile etched its way across the fiend’s lips at the mention of her daughters serving him though, oh the possibilities! Considering what blasphemies could be wrought with his bestial tongue and their pliant young flesh, a deep and foreboding chuckle echoed forth from the depths of his throat as Pandora commanded that he should give no quarter to interlopers, for to hi,m slaughter was but the sweetest ecstasy.

Accepting the presence of her hand upon his own, his ebony-hued gauntlet seemed to radiate with infernal heat, hinting at the potent energies that lay bound behind the ancient plate armour, a glimpse of the oblivion that lurked just beyond his eyes and lay at her beck and call. His attention was snatched away suddenly though, by the faintest of sneezes erupting from an air vent, a thing that might have gone overlooked to a mortal’s ears, but to Malice’s sounded as clearly as crystal. Before he could rise from his new throne and investigate the matter, however, Pandora dispatched Malaeyka, one of her more competent daughters, to root out the intruder and bring the fool before them, for it was an addled mind indeed, that sought to trespass on the thrice blessed grounds of this Temple.

Whilst the intruder was being ferreted out, Malice realized that his other hand, the one not currently embracing Pandora’s own, had subconsciously slipped to the hilt of his longsword when the sound was first heard, a side effect of his warrior instinct that he allowed to remain for the moment. Stroking the bone-wrought handle of Fiendwrath affectionately, he was briefly greeted with a flash of images as the sentient weapon stirred, echoing some of its previous exploits in bloody detail and hoping that its unique ‘talents’ would be required before the night was done.
 

[Malayeka_Darkbane]

Malayeka's eyes flicked from Malice to the female that had entered next to her. But soon snapped back to Pandora when her slender finger grazed along her cheek bone, sending shivers down her spine. She queitly listened as the dark goddess spoke. Her gaze returning to Malice when Pandora commanding that they do as he instructs. She watched as a wicked grin formed on his face to which a single brow perked.

A single sneeze rang out thru the room drawing everyone's attention. Pandora finger seeking the source out like a compass and no sooner had the words left her lips she was off. Her eyes trained on the very spot from which the noise had come from. Her hand extending out into the shadows searching for the source. Her fingers snaked thru the little girls hair. With a sudden and violent jerk she freed her from her hiding spot.

Snapping her arm around she released the little one sending her flying across the room to Pandora's feet. She quickly retook her spot in front of her queen as she watched the intruder.

[Tainted Nightmares]

[align=justify:e134b217ed]Had it not been for the loyalty of the blood and her honor in the name of Darkbane she would have stricken the Goddess down with one mighty blow.  It was only because of this that she did not. Not because she had any loyalty pledged to Pandora herself, but she did pledge her honor to the blood of Darkbane and this was all she needed for her to make the next course of actions and things spoken. The Goddess had chosen her words carefully, being polite without actually being polite, few words and simple gestures were some things that a Strigoi could appreciate, even one day learn to respect in one not of her species.

 Let it be not mistaken however that this did not mean she turned from the one true mother, the only one she would ever call mother and that was Atra’Lamia. Her loyalty did not sway there either, it never would. Deep down she knew that Atra’Lamia would be able to sense this, not that she more than likely cared to acknowledge it or feel it, she would certainly know it should any false claims and accusations be made against her. For now all Strages did to accept and acknowledge Pandora’s words were a nod to the sharp pointed crux of her chin. It was not to be confused with being neither submissive nor obedient just the fact they were accepted for now and this was all that was needed of the situation.

The same solemn act of acknowledgment would be given also to Malice not that she knew him personally or has the honor to, but she knew this was the one whom Atra’Lamia had spoken of on a few occasions. To the others, nothing was given but that cold, hard crimson stare and the tight gripping around the staff of her scythe. Bones cracking to the knuckles with the subtle movement indicating that it had been quite some time that she had melded to the flesh from her stone sarcophagi, it was also plain and clear she would not hesitate in the slightest to remove them from the mortal coil of flesh they held sacred.  Grandiose creatures, monsters as they were should not appear all pretty and priss, but the real monsters lurking beneath that flimsy weak façade.

Here, there was only one she recognized at face value, DeMolay. In her dark gladness she was quite impressed with a fondness to her cruel heart, that at least another one of the old blood bothered to darken the doorstep of the temple instead of pretending to be someone else, like Atrox. Then again, he was of lesser importance and no doubt one that would sniffle the nose on the way up the skirts of Kalicity no quicker than the suggestion would be made to him. She never trusted that one always smelled the weakness of his blood fetid in her nostrils. Then again vampires were know for their cowardice and constant vices of being inconstant. Wretched creature that he was, she was pleased that he turned his nose up at a call to the blood.

So if it was all the same her first opinion was correct, he was weak blood one that even Darkbane abandoned without call from the Goddess. She could not help but ask, the questions forming in her mind causing that shiver of anticipation to ripple over her grayish dead skin. ”Does the blood hunt include that sniveling dog named Atrox? And what of Atra’Lamia?” Nothing could hold back that dagger-toothed grin from displaying past clenched black lips, sharp jagged rows of yellowish fangs beyond bruised and rotting gums. A bite alone from her would be dangerously infectious, bacteria to rot the flesh or render one dead from septicemia. Why hide such a grin blooming past that of rancid decay? Did Darkbane not pride itself on the evils of ones own deeds and characteristics?

Be the most evilest of the vices of evil capable in that soul, there was much suggestion in the question in regards to Atra’Lamia. Surely the Goddess did not want to come across as a hypocrite in her statement regarding that all Darkbane’s of the blood who did not heed her call were subject to being hunted. To Strages knowing, there was none of the blood more pure than Atra’Lamia. Unless she was just another dumb creature who had no conception of the meaning behind the statement, should not all Darkbane’s be subjected to the fury of the Goddess, Pandora. Dark chilly eyes looked over towards Malice before turning back to the Goddess awaiting a reply. The mention of that bumbling idiot Atrox did not really need an answer. Darkbane would be done a great service without his continuation.

A sneeze? That entertained the Strigoi. To her it seemed more like a forced sneeze, one to introduce itself to the presences that it had been watching and waiting all this time to be discovered. A sneeze of a child, no less. What child would find refuge in a place like this? That was a question that perhaps they all should have asked themselves before acting rather hastily. In Stages experience, some child were the most evil little fuckers of all, masters at it in fact beyond that of immortals and Gods alike. She would have voiced an opinion but instead the Goddess had spoken before her and who was she to question that of a Goddess, even if she was more knowing.

Already there was a dislike for this Malayeka, never seen, never heard and she smelled like a new blood. Did the Goddess recently turn her? But all she could say in the privacy of her own mind was ”Woe to the fool foolish enough to touch the marked!” No words were spoken aloud, bust she took a step back and slowly turned to watch the events more than apparent to follow. No intuitions were needed to know, no magic insight or oracular ability. It was what cards were now in the palm of Malayeka’s hand and she did not envy that girl one single bit. [/align:e134b217ed]

[Blood Roses Marionette]

[align=center]”Malayeka, bring the intruder to me!”[/align]

[align=justify:c2b56d3681]The sneaky tainted one waited in the darkness at those precious words, one thing momma always told her was to play ones size to the best advantage, so if they wanted to see a defenseless child? That was all they were going to see. Tiny fingers stroking the hair of the head while insects and larvae seeped out of its sunken hollows. It had been her only friend since she lost her darling Elise, the baby she had stolen from its crypt while the plague ravished its system, unable to fight the potent sickness eating away at its insides. It took a few days to croak, its shriveled body in the fetal position sticking to the side of its pillow in a puddle of puss and ooze. Blood Roses pampered it, dressed it how a dolly should be dressed. All pretty in white lace and a bonnet for its head once covered in blonde ringlets. She liked the girls the most, they squealed better and for much longer than the boys, especially when pins and needles were dug deep into those baby blues.

She adored skipping through the damned buildings all marked with a malicious dark red ’X’ marking the house condemned to death. Streets upon streets were all infected with a non-curable diseased that had every medical expert of the century baffled from herbalists, healers to witch doctors. It was all a part of her game, and she loved to play hopscotch with them all, as long as their rotting limbs were willing. All things die or dull, and so too did her precious Elise. No longer amusing her like she used to. Those stitched lips remained silent, no longer did she cry those tears of innocence, those arms reaching out to be cradled. Elise was nothing but dust, she blew away with the winter winds leaving Blood Roses alone, just like everything else did.

Luring other children to their doom had lost its appeal with the decapitation and torture of rats, cats and dogs. Like the usual sadistic killer, one has milestones to follow and bigger boots to step into even though Blood Roses would never age or know sickness other than what boiled and fermented in her own blood. Moving from street to street, city to city and kingdom to kingdom, each and every one wilting to rot and death behind her. Every man, woman and child inflicted with the sicknesses she was capable of giving, the seven deadly plagues to match those delicious little sins every creature, living or non-living had been marked with. Creatures, monsters, myths and placebo’s were all marked, some brighter than others, some dull to the verge of being unseen. The voices lured her like butterflies to a crypt, along with the insanity of laughter that forever echoed like chamber music to some old tune of morbid crescendos.

 It was only nature to return to a place considered as home, even a home as desolate as this left to rot and ruin. It was no wonder that she felt more than at home in her quiet small sewer above the rats squeaking below her trying to act formidable.  Perhaps one or two had something to admire, something for the voices in her head to want.  To the one perched on her mighty throne of bones and faded memories ordering some insignificant to seek her out, drag her before this, Queen of wilted importance. Did she think she scared this child, this monster of eons, this pathetic small creature barely a fraction to her size or vanity? A hand grabbing at her in the darkness of her hole, she would have been more than happy just to curl up in the dust and listen to their airs of pride and conceit. Until disturbed, grabbed at like a sexual transmitted disease to be brought before this, slipshod statue of a Goddess?

Filthy fingers sneaking through her hair? No, it was not her head that the sneaky dirty fingers discovered for it was the head of her trophy that caught the caress of the silly woman with the squeaky hackneyed servant. No sooner had those fingers entwined in the matted, blood stained hair that her own dainty hand was free of it.  Instead of the girl being thrown across the room at the feet of the Goddess, it was only but a head rolling with a queasy crunch and clatter. Ending with its hollow eyes staring blankly with all its hidden darkness and squalid stench while the shifty dupe took her place before an even bigger dupe. Didn’t anyone ever teach this con to watch her back for one cold, damned night the darkness would be chewing on it. As long as it did not mind the heartburn, she assumed to herself.

It was only then that the drain/grate where she crouched began to crawl with the multitudes of locusts, centipedes and venomous serpents. Every one crawling and slithering from beneath her small frame to spew out into the temple along with all the pungent stenches of the abyss itself, of death, darkness, decay and disease. Shadows swarming only to covet her frame while it skipped across the heart of the temple with a small letter opener in her hand that she had sharpened beyond surgical precision, pricked and preened neatly against her side. The thickness of those swarming insects and shadows protecting her from vision, mortal or immortal unless they had the senses of the plague given by Nurgle himself: God of Disease. Her blighted and cursed father.

Rapidly moving to the left side of Malayeka before the Goddess, using all the swiftness of celerity and stealth. Blade flexed outwards before being propelled outwards from right her side towards the right side of Malayeka’s lower back of (the one who dared try touch her). No sound instigated her attack, no sound of motion other than the crunching throng of rubbing, bustling wings of the insects. The attack, coming from the waist, through to the back and shoulder with the extension of her arm used as the striking focus, the blade small enough to pierce the lower region of the lumbar nerve in order to sever it and render the target incapacitated, paralyzed. With the attack came the equaled frenzy and maliciousness, it was more than clear in her eyes that she wanted this female dead and nothing would change her mind, not even one of those candies wrapped in gold foil that momma liked to toss her way.

This was just a warning attack to show that she meant business and would not be treated like a rodent caught in a trap by these morons. That there was more in her ability than just a weak attack. It was written in her eyes, the blackness swirling that she had an essence in her none here could match, not by a long shot. Other left hand swinging around to hit Malayeka right in the tit, lips peeling back viciously ”Don’t touch Mr.StinkyHead! You big, FAT shitbag pissknickers!” Blood Roses body kept just to the left side of Malayeka’s back in the attack, disabling her from grabbing at her without having to turn around and take the stab to the back, or receiving it in the side of where most of the vital organs rested in that little meat sack the woman thought desirable. How would she feel getting her ass kicked by a small child? A bit humiliating Blood Roses thought especially in front of her superiors. [/align:c2b56d3681]

I apologize and not offence intended.

But in future,

I do not accept auto's on my character especially in regards to being grabbed by the hair and thrown at some female's feet my character does not even know.

Basic rules of Melee I am sorry, but in an attack I get to post any defense then any counter attack before you assume your character would be successful.

Next time, in character I will rip your face off and feed it to Malice *insert pretty smile here*

[DeMolay Darkbane]

Moving out of the way of the commotion Kadasha resigned back to the shadows where she could watch the following events with a keen eye. Keeping to herself had always been a virtue, she was not a fighter for her talents were more of the clerical kind. Tending to the temple and the requests of those involved in the ritual side of the temple, sacrificial and magical. Kadasha had to place in order to speak her mind about the child intruder for Pandora had made her wishes quite clear and had ordered Malayeka to follow them. Unsuccessfully perhaps, but every one had a learning point where to start along with how far that line would go before crossing it.

Seemed the little beggar had a mind of her own however and thought differently on the treatment given. Any other child would have cried or even screamed when grabbed or threatened however this child must have been more gifted, not easily frightened. Surprising enough that the child not only managed to somehow trick Malayeka but came right out of that hole on her own, then launched into her own attack with all her little critters and creatures in tow. The temple filled with creepy crawlies and the warmth of her fury. Kadasha had to give it to the child that she had a blazing fire in her quite rare for one her size and age.

If of course she actually was a child and not some demon or shade cast into a human child’s form? From a distance she could not tell or read what the child actually was, it was a magic far from her reach and abilities even as an oracle she did not see no beginning or end for this child only that she was.  The child did not have the Darkbane blood that she could read but the temper and desire for death could have been decided as very much Darkbane indeed. All she could do was study the young one, trying to read or even see some essence in her that would give a clue away as to who she was, why she was here and where she got that sparkle of a temper of hers.

Her job was to tend to the temple and keep her opinions to her self because sometimes she did speak out of place without though or consideration to its source. She was never taught table manners therefore had no desire to have them or etiquette in behavior. The temple was her place of rank, to serve it as instructed without question or argument. In her silence she listened to the speech of Malice and Pandora discarded like an intruder, just tolerated because she was one of the very few who obviously showed any honor to the name and calling.

There was no malice to be read in her mind, only the silence of listening, drinking it all in with a contented belly or awaiting the hand to stroke it like one would a loyal dog. But was she so loyal? Kadasha questioned that loyalty with the principle of ownership. It had not been Pandora who pulled out from the grasp of the mother of shadows, the empress of shadows then embraced her as her own. It had been Atra’Lamia. And to her the majority of all who stood here seemed to be those much like herself, yet now standing before one who had never done anything for them, only slept greedily in her own desertion.

Did Pandora not desert and abandon her own children? If so what gave her the right to stand there so sanctimonious in that betrayal? With the name spoken by Strages all these questions birthed in the darkness of her thoughts. Did Pandora feel brave enough to place a bounty on the head of the one who could easily overthrow her and give her that rest Pandora sorely craved? Did Pandora actually have the gall to say it and mean it because surely it would mean all their deaths.

[Eternal Goddess Pandora]

The cold hardness of the throne upon which Pandora sat, a reminder of what was needed in this the darkest of times. She herself would have to be as the stone, cold, hard, ruthless the biggest bitch in Darkbane. An example to all within the clan, and if it came that Atra'Lamia came she would stand and face her nemesis, unlike others whose claim of courage was pathetic, making certain that if she the goddess died, so to would all who carried the blood within their veins. None would escape for the blood itself would destroy them, none would make the claim of Darkbane, none would make the claim of rulership. If Atra'Lamia took her life, Atra'Lamia would take the whole of Darkbane... That was how it would be, never again would the betrayals of the past arise. Never again would another sit upon this throne unless of course it was Atra herself and the chances of that were slim, very slim.

She sat studying Malice, allowing her eyes to drink his form in, pondering how in the final reckoning the discovery that his and the fate of all Darkbanes were bound so tightly to her own fate. The blood was the blood and by her affirmation, it was now a binding upon their lives. A smirk forming on her lips as silent amusement to Malice's words sank in. Only few men? Obviously Malice didn't know Pandora's appetites as well as he thought. Many had passed the portals of Pandora's Paradise, some had even been worth remembering, others, well they did perhaps leave something to be desired. His hopes of stirring her loins to produce offspring causing a single eyebrow to raise, only trouble was, if she bred, would the child survive after all, babies were quite the delicacy and knowing Malice, if he fathered a child, it would likely try and eat its way out rather then following more normal procedure. A worrying thought... but that wasn't to say the idea didn't have merit.

Pandora's eyes noticing how Malice's eyes swept across her daughters, it was simply so obvious she had to respond "Malice, my daughters will serve you, but... as soldiers, NOT as your personal harem... You are Warlord of Darkbane Malice, not prize cock, not the Darkbane stud, so withhold... That meat is mine, I may share if your good, unless of course you really don't love your Goddess" a pout would hint at humour, but was it, as her fingers dragged razor sharp nails across his gauntlet. If he allowed his lusts to run their course, he may discover her humour ran thin. Malayeka moving to intercept, reaching into a shadow and throwing a maggot infested skull to Pandora's feet. Before any further motion Strages put her and Malice on the spot, nothing unusual in that, if anyone was going to pop their bubble Pandora knew it would be Strages hard perception.

Pandora knew she would have to be very very careful in giving Strage a response, of all the blood kin gathered here, Strage was perhaps the most volatile, and Pandora had no doubt a wrong answer would not be good for anyones health. "Strages... you cut to heart of the matter, Atrox, he is dead to us, only his flesh awaits the bloodhunts call. His death shall be... satisfying. Atra'Lamia however, is a different story whom I shall personally handle, there are issues of betrayal of which she and I must deal with, and NOT a betrayal by Atra'Lamia, a betrayal by those who lied and cheated Darkbane itself." There, the words were now said, Pandora would face Atra'Lamia alone, and Darkbane would live or die with the result.

A swarm of insects, creeping, flying, the noise harsh, locusts, cockroaches, maggots, things that slithered and things that bit. Pandora sitting back in her throne as from within this power emerged... a child? But not just any child, one who carried deaths foul caress like a cloak upon her body, one who without fear promptly attacked Malayeka for even thinking to touch her person. Pandora smirking as the child showed raw guts, the madness of plague, here was the type she wished Darkbane was filled with. It was doubtful Malayeka would get out of this without a scratch, but... perhaps the child could further Darkbanes interests. If approached the right way, this plague carrier could open the way for Darkbane to achieve a greater evil. "Someone fetch the child food, fruits, sweets..." Pandora ordered, even though the fight was not yet over, when it was, Pandora wanted to be ready to appease this poisonous waif.

[Malice]

Dominant though one may be, no man is an island, for prudence paved the way to real power.

Far, far away, beyond the corners of this world the Temple called ‘home’, vast legions marched to ceaseless slaughter, drenching the depths of the Multiverse in a veritable tide of blood. Agony ran rampant through the long dark night, lifting suffering to the high heavens and producing a delicious symphony for any potent enough to listen, as kingdoms burned and were reduced to ash outside Darkbane’s hallowed walls. In the brief moments of silence between Pandora’s commands then, as Malayeka boldly stalked her ‘prey’, Malice focused upon the bigger picture and reflected upon the fact that those gathered here were but pieces on a far larger board of chess.

Despite the boasts of worthless whores like Kalicity though, not all claims made by those of Darkbane’s ilk were false, and any who had witnessed Malice’s past knew that this Great Devourer had clawed his way into the courts of the celestials themselves. For time innumerable his armies had fed the furnace of War, and whilst the decadent deity might be applying a personal touch to the resurrection of his clan, his minions were by no means abating their endless crusade against any who opposed him. Warming his throne of skulls with their battle-worn hands, Ankharu puppets dispensed His will throughout his territories in the Astral Plane and the Abyss itself, maintaining the empire he had forged in the fires of his Wrath, during Pandora’s absence.

Information trickled through his mind like a slow but persistent stream, conveying the events that were unfolding outside these walls and updating him on the strategic standing of his Barbed Legion, which allowed him to nurture machinations and contingencies that few save perhaps Pandora herself could contemplate. Rather than merely tracing the passage of his own force, however, his network of spies keenly pursued the movements of creatures powerful enough to pose a threat to their goals which, quite fortuitously, meant Atra as well. Swelling with pleasure, which he quickly disguised as lust for Pandora’s new daughters, Malice watched in delight as one of his daemons transmitted a play-by-play account of Kalicity’s fall, rendered in brutal and life-like detail. Licking his obsidian lips and savouring the horror etched upon the traitor's face, his mind then turned to Atra herself and her campaign to purge Eden of every last trace of Kalicity’s taint. And so Eden shall be reborn, moulded and shaped beneath your iron fist eh my Valkyrie?

Before he could consider these new developments, however, and how they factored in to his grand schemes, Pandora shot him a scornful retort which snapped his attention back to the situation inside the Temple itself. Amusement writhed its way across his visage as he digested the words, for he often had to be reminded to ignore his baser instincts, and with a nod of acquiescence, he retorted. “ But of course my Queen, I shall form them into credits to our name.”, or break them if they are too weak to bear it, he silently added, for he did not wish to repeat the mistakes of the past and welcome in unfit beasts, rather than actual warriors. Deep lines were scratched into the exterior of his gauntlet by Pandora’s disgruntled swipe, but once she turned to address Strages, the damage knitted itself back together in the blink of an eye, hastened exponentially by the regenerative properties of the Warlord's ancient armour.

Sudden though it may have been, the Strigoi maiden hit upon a subject Malice had been meaning to broach himself, regarding Darkbane’s official policy on Atra, and so he listened intently as Pandora spoke her mind and, to his relief, told them both that she would settle old scores personally. Caught between loyalty and something else he wasn’t sure he could put into words, Malice had always believed that Darkbane needed to be lead by strength, and so whoever emerged after the dust settled between those two titans, would have determined who should rule, once and for all. Regardless of whether Atra, should she triumph, would squander her birthright or not though, Malice was content in knowing he had guided events towards a form of resolution, one way or the other, and that Darkbane’s future would either be ensured or obliterated with a finality that even he could not refute.

Creeping from crack and crevice like some pestilent wave, a swarm of insects exploded forth from the vent Malayeka had gone to investigate, which Malice regarded with interest as his mind prepared the simple cantrip that would activate the wards which, even now, were noiselessly observing the intrusion. The deep wells of sorrow, resembling black opals that held no end and serving as the monstrous Warlord's eyes, studied the creatures thoughtfully then, detecting something familiar about their composition until something clicked and he reflected once more. Ah so one of Grandfather Nurgle’s children doth grace us with their presence. Capable of piercing the barriers between one realm and the next with ease, his divine sight gleaned the truth of the matter for themselves as they gazed through centipede and shadow and rooted out the intruder’s form, cunningly concealed in their swirling midst. He supposed he could have warned Malayeka of the danger this one posed, for despite appearances she was far more than a child, but he preferred to let Blood Roses test his new ‘soldier’ and give him an indication on what, if anything, he currently had to work with.

Apparently Pandora was likewise intrigued by this new ‘guest’, for she ordered a lesser acolyte to run and fetch some delicacies from the Temple kitchens, though somehow Malice knew one of Nurgle’s brood wouldn’t care for mere sweets alone. Instead of offering her something he thought she might enjoy more, however, he reclined in his new throne and prepared to witness this little bought in its entirety, for as long as it may last.  

[Malayeka_Darkbane]

Apparently Malayeka's body had moved faster than her mind as well as her eyes playing tricks on her. For when she retook her spot in front of Pandora all that laided there was a maggot filled head. Her eyes quickly shifted to to both sides the sound of bugs filled the air. She felt a small gust of air as the little girl plunged her blade towards her.

Quickly she shifted her body weight as she spun around, her feet sliding several inches outwards. Her body folding in on itself as she stared upwards at the blade soaring over head. The insects that enveloped the little girls body began crawling on her. Hundreds of small fangs piercing her flesh. The pain she felt but the venom the injected only added more venom to her blood.

One of her favorite past times, experimenting with poisons. Her blood more deadly than the bubonic plague. But also it was her down fall, for all the poison that mixed with her blood left her unable to make a childer of her own. As the girl passed over her she stretched her hand upwards thru the swarm of insects. Her nails searching for flesh.  Each one laced with a different type of poison. Ranging from neurotoxin to simple cyanide. It mattered not which leg or body part she found. With barely more than a whisper but loud enough to be heard she said. "Fool me once shame on you, fool me twice shame on me."

[The End of All Light.]

A type of extension from this post  http://thedarkrealmz.com/forum/viewtopic.php?t=1874

Since Atra'Lamia made a type of 'means towards physical contact' with Pandora-- I thought it only fair to bring the 'actual' move and motive to the table. So to speak.  This post only really refers to Pandora unless others can make the means to 'see' Atra'Lamia-- something not many are able to do unless they actually 'know' her.

~Dy

[align=center]"...Return”
“…Seduction”
“…Speak not of death, unless you wish to see death”
"...I bring you storms of discouragement”[/align]

[align=justify:63a222ebbc]The earth stood still upon the dunes of darkness. Dazzling sparks of diamonds stud the blackened horizon in a communal design of acrimony and loathing. No star more radiant than the next, no one brighter in radiance than another, an effigy of what was to come. The multiversity of worlds, planets and satellites shook and shuddered with the rectification of space and endless time, never-ending in it's quandary to rectify itself at the interference of balance and control.

Astronomers had said that space and time itself was a simple consciousness of all material matter spreading out and reaching to the ever-last that is oblivion, an affinity of chaos and the destruction of all that was past, and all that would be in the future. Heretics had been burned at the crooked stake, or beheaded by the blades before King’s for making such a suggestion that all life hung by a very frail thread. A thread that could easily be severed at any given moment without warning, cause or means of preventing it for the path was already chosen.

 Many things had brought it to pass. Death, decay, sin and corruption with all the curses mankind wrought on the world full of humanities sickness. The sky in its malignant swirling bespoke of the ending. Bespoke of the quandary life had become, cheap like a prostitutes perfume. Trading souls for possession, hearts for chains, it was no wonder a subjugate redeemer of sorts had been sent, to scourge the world of its disease. [/align:63a222ebbc]

[align=center].....extinction of evolution…life…eating…away…at itself.....[/b][/align]

[align=justify:63a222ebbc]Whispering words echoed through the reeds in the fields below. No wind had ever been as chilling as this, harshly raked in forked blades. Sounds whistling in the flurry shrill and piercing, some old haunted tune that bequeathed a sense of horror, dread, uncertainty. The blackness of the sky swallowing the moon and her potency, strangling the last light perhaps this world would ever see, except for the stars that now appeared more like eyes watching in the darkness.

Evaporation of oxygen weighing heavy on throat and lungs as humanity grabbed itself in a stranglehold. Pain and pleasure all a mechanism in the dying. All life struggles to live, but vanquishes its resources far quicker in the struggle, making it quicker… effortless. It would have been easier to just sit there, in the darkness, mouth gulping for air. Born into the world again, born to die. It was funny how when a mortal is born, they are not born to live but to die, the ticking clock passing through the numbers in mathematic palpitations. The fake heart striving to recapture time, already lost.

Darkness devouring, spreading black wings over the trembling land, enslaving it to a colder affection, a colder bliss. Sweeping in greedy strokes to gather the harvest, and then take them to a better place. At least it was an improvement, even to substandard levels, even if it was all a lie and the grass always being greener on the other side. Humanity had called to the heavens for a saviour, they should have been clearer on the prerequisites in request.[/align:63a222ebbc]

[align=center]“…Rains of denial and defeat”
“… Tainted wines of poison”
“… Fields of rotting roses”
“…Oceans…of…crimson”[/align]

[align=justify:63a222ebbc]Methodical winds forced the ramparts of the heavens to breach, blowing to form a cone-like axis, colliding in upon itself to form a cosmic implosion coiling into a singular accumulation, a cumulonimbus haze. The essence spreading outwards from the cone in a thick, bouillabaisse cloud. . Asphyxiating the heavens, engulfing the silhouetted horizon… one by the one the stars were distinguished, a snuffed libertine or rambled prophesy. Full moon embossed behind the thickening veil, hued now in a tincture of vermillion lustre as it bled through the miasma without veneration.

And why would it show such… veneration to those beneath it quivering in their temples while priests prayed their grovelling rites half in despair and half in awe. Frantic murmurings partially in curse and moderately in blessing, double-spoken in two-faced promises, where no man or beast was never too sure on what it was exactly soliciting in evocation ”Adore me! Adore me!” in lulled soft word whilst holding the dagger behind the back, lips forging a smile that could melt hearts or bring worlds to war. What a shame the price this time was far more than a few drops of blood.

Dialogue uttered, distinctly feminine- but held no real identity other than the cacophony of enchanted silver harps, brushing harpy-wings on stone. For some it would be, strange, unnoticeable while for an extreme select few, they would know who spoke them and whose presence was within the temple raking armoured fingernails down the granite of their tombs. A hint of manipulation here, a razor-adorned touches there, in the shadows as they raked along facial contours. For now the focus was on the woman sitting there basking in her inferiority. Thorny-kisses, darkened wishes and all would be revealed, in its due time. [/align:63a222ebbc]

[align=center]“…Worlds of pain”
“…Stones of graves, tombs and milestones”
“…Skies of crimson, rain of blood”
“…Ruins of the crumbled temple you once knew”[/align]

[align=justify:63a222ebbc]One should never speak of the Devil, for to the cause, her horns would always rise. Be careful what you wish for because in lack of choosing correct words, a wish can easily become an unholy blight. A bruise, a blemish on the perfection Pandora saw in her reflection, a mark of cinders to announce the shame hanging over her head like the swords of angels. None other would ‘see’ her form through the shadows, only the self-proclaimed Goddess would see that svelte figure in the shades of plethoric prisms. To see her, would be her choice, not the privilege of all sight, none were deemed worthy to marvel in her crimson splendour of old scores waiting to be settled.

A plague of locusts, serpents and spiders swarmed within the temple, yet none harmed her or scathed her flesh to nothing but ivory bone. Her children always had the precious gifts of damnation. That is why they had been chosen, selected to represent her and the magnificent darkness. A delicate stroke through those black cascades then over candied lips, to silence her from words, none were needed to be spoken, not to the likes of these. Wraith-like emanations billow around the tourniquet of black petals, pearlescent orbs searching through the ebony bandages that separated her from her place of dominancy and this infertile temple where only whores had ever seated.

Humility of course in her own respects for she had never rested on the throne, nor placed herself there in contempt- unlike so many. The sharp needle-point caress with the toxins of her own potency seeping from the fragments of scalpels, ”My little lamb… my pet… you shall wait your turn!” Such a phrase that could foretell all the collisions of the stars and planets, the universe eating itself to the inside out, leaving… nothing. Frozen in iced-scorn, if definition was studied, however in those words there was no emotion, just that cold reckoning being directed. Targeted on Pandora and only Pandora, something only she had the means to fight against, if she had the impudence and the skill.[/align:63a222ebbc]

[align=center]“…What happens when you roses turn to crosses?”
“…Blood weaker than piss and water”
“…A mark, a crest of shame”
“… Who will you turn to, when there is no one left to turn to?”
"...I won't be there!"[/align]

[align=justify:63a222ebbc]Choirs of verses extending from the mass, implanting their decay towards the mind willing to listen, willing to understand, willing to be silent. Scepticism rendered as the one true law in the hallow halls of Pandora’s mind, Goddess to Goddess, was it not? Would she accept this personal invitation or pretend to be brave in front of her slaves and consort? Questionable, but no longer her business, let them all dine on the scraps of another’s conquests… it mattered none to her. Let sleeping dogs lie for when they awaken, they always rise with fleas. A new motto perhaps, for now it suited her marvellously to the trick.

Let it be known that a true Goddess would never challenge another just on her grounds and terms. A true warrior would take the fight to where the fight was instigated. Not hide at the side of her lover, amongst the vermin proclaiming their ‘undying’ devotion. Empty words, fool Pandora for believing them. She herself had heard them time and times repeated. Now ‘feeling’ it around the temple only sickened her to the core and she spat on the mark that was Darkbane. Even saying it would feel like slime on the tongue, a bacterial infection of the throat, phlegm to be spat out, never savoured.

Only moments did she linger, giving only enough time to scathe the contours of Pandora’s face with shreds that would never heal, or have her empathic gesture thwarted. Maybe the sensation of blood on the fingers, tainting her armoury, sufficing all hatreds was all her desire? Then again to thwart it could bring a heavier penalty on her head, a bounty not prepaid to surrender? The choice would be Pandora’s, unlikely though she would chose it wisely… since she was not one known for brilliance of intelligence. Incorporeal here, corporeal in Eden, if Pandora had any real gall she would appear before Atra’Lamia and all her legions, to spit at her face… just like Atra was bestowing upon her now. Atra'Lamia was done running to her like the rest of the lost herd.[/align:63a222ebbc]

[align=center].....Silence.....[/align]

[align=justify:63a222ebbc]Back in Eden, before the ruined walls of the burning palace in rout - the skies open with an electric explosion of lightening as the thunder begins to rumble. Heaven’s gates in closing for God in all his perfection never did have the stomach for devastation or defeat. Ignorance for some was indeed bliss. An accolade of his denial, once again turning his back on mankind came with a price… the price and sacrifice of all the ages. Blood and the weeping of angels in the disguise of rain… crimson rain. The sound echoing from the thatches and wooden tiles of roofs, tarnishing the sandstone with splashes and splatters of that beautiful red.

Nigrescent eyes closed in her halt. Allowing the sensation of the cardinal salutations to sink in through the pores of her mocha-milky complexion, moisten the wayward strands of her hair. Wind-swept obsidian tussled in ringlets of iridescent black, slowly turning… a deep shade of garnet like blood swirling in a pond of midnight. Even the piceous hues of her leather seemed to fade out to a bright shade of crimson, glistening in the sleekness of downpour. ”I always loved thee in a shade of crimson” the husky voice spoke out from the depths of her mind. No longer the nemesis of darkness, instead now the saviour in crimson- a Goddess of blood; one they all had prayed for... in dreams and nightmares.[/align:63a222ebbc]

[align=center].....The change of times had commenced.....[/align]

[Tainted Nightmares]

[align=justify:fc3428fe5e]Strages remained perfectly still in the swarm of the ravaging insects. She listened to the brushing of their wings as they blanketed her in thick mass. There was no concern for her flesh being stripped away; it would be a blessing for all before her to see the hideous creatures beneath the mask of flesh. The elongated limbs more bat-like than any other beast, though also wolf-like in variable features depending on the definition of the beholder; whether strange, eerie, alien she would still be seen as a otherworldly beauty. Everything around her moved much slower than what they would have seen, their moments paused in time only to gradually pass by. However, she studied the peculiar conflict between the child and the other, unknown. Barely interested in the reason or purpose for it, but certainly interested in the methods of combat being used. Not to her personal taste, but amusing just the same.

The child had qualities that could be used for an advantage, children were the less likely to ever be suspected in their nefarious chores. She was swift, and showed a lot of credit in creativity, with her plague of bugs and creeping, slithering accomplices. Serpents wriggled over her talon-daggered feet, yet she did not pull back and move away. The Strigoi had no fear of these creatures, not when they all shared a common purpose. Sharp wings scratched the sides of her face as she turned to observe it more. Ribbons of crimson dripping over the sallow-grey skin, traveling along the sharp edge of her chin only to vanish into the sprawling mess congregating around her feet; the child had spunk, she would at least give her that praise. Skillful enough with the dagger, and knowing enough to use both arms in an attack. What a pity she did not use the insects in conjunction with this, if she had, then the one named Malayeka wasn’t in for a very joyful experience.

Ears twitching to listen to the conversation between Pandora and the Warlord of Darkbane, plus the words spoken directly to her in regards to Atra. Perhaps they were wise words chosen in her mind, but to the mind of the Strigoi, why would one be so foolish to ask for something she was more than clearly not ready for. Why provoke such temptations for response or visitation? Did Pandora actually think Atra’Lamia feared her? Strages cocked her head to the left, black eyes glancing over the fight then back to Pandora. ”Why do you allow such insubordination in one of your fellow clan members? Did she not hear your orders?” Strages gave a cold, calculating smirk ”Did you not say, bring the child to me, and not attack her?” A long gnarled fingernail twisted to tap on her chin ”I would act rather hostile myself, especially when the welcome was less satisfactory!”

Bony shoulders ascended upwards in a slow, mocking-like gesture. ”I would rule such behavior as an eye-sore, especially when those like us of the old blood have returned. Is this what Darkbane has been reduced to? The squabbles between children?” She cared not if she spoke out of place, she was going to say it whether it pissed Pandora off or not, not to mention anyone else. Atra’Lamia had always permitted her to speak her mind, and gladly Stages suffered any consequences in the aftermath. Darkbane had gone through many transitions, most hardly favorable in the eyes of the wise, and this gathering was turning out to be listed in the books of failure. They were all concerned with this child, and not the bigger picture. Whatever occurred, Strages would remain resolute, tenacious in her stand.

It was then that she felt another presence, one stronger and powerful, more than what she had felt in quite some time. Eyes looked around quickly in attempt to catch anything that may have moved to the same speed as she. Only the swarm of the insects and the gathering shadows, nothing more. Narrowing those black eyes as they turned gradually into glowing furnaces of radiant scarlet-reds, burning through those shadows as her blade could through flesh. Disappointed at seeing, nothing, though she knew something was certainly there but she did not speak to address it, rather ceased in her thought and movement to listen. So still as if she was that statue again. ”Something wicked this way comes!” was all that was said from gravel-shrieked tones lingering over blackened lips. Speech was not customary to her, but this inspired a response. [/align:fc3428fe5e]

[Blood Roses Marionette]

[align=justify:4395ae1891]It would not have been fangs that dug into the imbecile’s skin, it would have been the millions of wings brushing against the skin, using the many barbs to slice and eventually peel the flesh from the tendons and bone. They had not bitten her, yet for they are usually herbivores. (Schistocerca Gregaria) were these types, commonly know as the Desert Locust. The swarm had extended to a height of the temples ceiling and the length of its entire structure. Blood Roses had caused many plagues with her precious pests that had left lands in pure darkness for days on end. She had plenty of reserves that could be conjured from the drain she had been dragged out from. Eyes could have to be closed to dive, jump or fly up into the air to be able to withstand the inflictions of their wings and shanks (tibia’s barbs) on the back of the legs.

In order to attack, a single swarm moves into opponents’ spaces, which provokes an attack of opportunity. It can occupy the same space as a creature of any size, since it crawls all over its prey, but remains a creature with a 10-foot space. Swarms never make attacks of opportunity, but they can provoke attacks of opportunity. Unlike other creatures with a 10-foot space, a swarm is shapeable. It can occupy any four contiguous squares, and it can squeeze through any space large enough to contain one of its component creatures. Typically, they’ll devour anything organic in their path, so flesh was not high on its priority. The only concern was the wings and shanks. Malayeka was just fortunate it was the locusts, serpents and spiders and not her hellwasps. Spiders and serpents were merely the starters of what she could bring about.

To be immune to all poisons or the majority of poisons was near impossible for any creature unless they had access to the poisons of all things. Which would not make sense since those adept in toxicology constantly invent new and more potent poisons. Poisons cannot instantly mix with the blood and become a part of the genetic structure of that being. Mithridatism, as it is called. Gaining immunity to poison, can only be obtained by being exposed several times to that one poison, not once. The only way to achieve very high neutralizing antibodies to sustain this is only possible by this one process. Certain poisons can be administered in tiny doses and they can be increased gradually until a maintenance level has been reached.

Vitamins and Minerals have a toxic level hence the reason we have an RDA. lots of fruit and vegetables contain poison Potato and rhubarb are two good examples of this. Snake charmers are said to be immune to the snake venom and as they will have started creating a high level of resistance to the venom by self administering. But it is never an innate ability. Since Malayeka had performed some indistinguishable attack, her body folding in on itself, as Blood Roses motion somehow passed over her? She stretched out her arm to search for flesh? Making no means to attack any where or place with distinction. Weak words dribbling from the maws of a creature Blood Roses now held in strict contempt.

While the insects swarmed in a structured mass, like a thick impenetrable blanket. Thick enough to obscure any view. She would not know Blood Roses location by sight alone, she would have to rely on other senses. Moving away just out of Malayeka’s reach, a single step away or moving her body just slightly away from the searching of her arms looking for flesh. Using the same sweeping action, though this time in a back slash towards the section where Malayeka’s throat would be located. Since she must be lower that Blood Roses standing to be able to look up through the swarm using her eyes and hand. The blade would come across at the same level she had stricken before, straight from her side and across ways, left to right. Feet standing but a width apart in order for stability plus any need to quickly shift position.

[or]

Malayeka had gone for an ankle or leg. The child would retaliate with a violent kick to the face. Bending at the knee to the opposite leg to wherever Malayeka searched/reached. Using the knee to be the major pushing force of the kick and applying it with a kicked/stomped motion with the ball of her heel slamming down towards Malayeka’s head or face. The blade still held in her hand, waiting for the next opportunity to use it. Should the kick actually land its target, the strength behind it would be stronger than any normal child and quicker than what most could avoid. Especially when their sight was impaired by the flying obstacles thick like Guinness broth, with all the inflictions and wounds their wings will cause on her flesh. [/align:4395ae1891]

[align=center]Malayeka’s reach failed, now she would have to think quickly to get herself out of the mess she brought upon herself. By acting without thought and learning about her opponent and the new enemy she just created. [/align]

[align=justify:4395ae1891]Blood Roses ignored the words of Pandora. To be truthful this child had no love for the woman or the rodents that congregated to her like kittens. This child would never take food from that woman. She would rather starve than accept any hospitality from the bitch. All she wanted was the blood of this rash critter and would now settle for nothing else. [/align:4395ae1891]

Sorry for the post but I found it hard to reply to something that still lacked all the questions I asked in the ooc thread. No mention if she grabbed at an arm or leg. The locusts did not bite, or did I say they bit. I mentioned the result of a million sharp edged wings and legs brushing the skin. It is hard to reply to something that has no location or direction in her attack.

[DeMolay Darkbane]

Kadasha had long lost any interest in the quarrel, the nuisance locusts grazed her flesh but she moved behind the pillar closest to Pandora to get away from the main body of the plague. She hated insects, the way they crept on the skin and tangled in your hair. Tiny feelers poking into your mouth as it tried to force itself closed. The snakes and other things did not bother her as much as the swarm, that was just too much to tolerate for a vampire who was extremely sensitive to their personal territory being invaded. For the most part Kadasha remained quiet, impartial to what was being said and done even though she did not like what she saw.

Keeping her opinion to herself, silence was better than annoyance and from the things going around the temple at the moment there was enough annoyance. Hand waving around, swatting the pests away as best she can before grabbing one of the torches and swinging it in front of her, before the insects. It may not clear them all off but it would make things easier for her to move, at least drive some of them away from crawling all over her. Locusts hate fire, she remembered this much during her times in Egypt. This plague was nothing compared to that plague that threw Egypt into darkness for several days.

The situation could not get any worse with a new sense of plague entering the temple. Darkness that made her uneasy was not an easy thing to admit to herself. Especially not a proud creature like a Vampire who did not like to admit they feared anything but the elements that could destroy. This was certainly one of those elements which caused her to flinch away from it, getting as far away from the darkness as she could. Feet moving away from the shadows creeping across the floor, boots shuffling in backstep only to have her back land solid against the pillar she had found earlier. There was nothing in it that she could see, it being beyond her abilities and powers. She knew no spells that would work immediately to locate the source of its energy and power.

Muttering to herself while thinking of a solution. For a moment there she thought she heard another woman's voice speak out of the darkness but she shook her head to dismiss the madness speaking to her. She looked about as best she could through the swarm to see the reaction of any of the others, to see if they too heard the voice and thought it was in their imagination. That some old ghost had woken from the tombs below to haunt them with the memory of that fallen soldier to the Darkbane Clan. Had she been mistaken in hearing the voice? Kadasha didn't think so because she thought she heard it again, far back in the depths of her mind and it made her shiver. Shiver in horror.

[Eternal Goddess Pandora]

~ It had become to overwhelming to her senses. The conflict circling her mind was becoming confusing, clouded in the moment of this insubordination. Pandora could easily kill them all, erase them from her halls if she so chose. Instead, she slowly stood for there was another presence more intoxicating and captivating than the pathetic show going on before her. The child did not want food, then the child would starve, Pandora cared not for the little brat instead scowled towards her with an icy coldness while her hand slowly rose to chest level. Fingers moving, prompting something evil to grow through the marble floor of the temple and ensnare the little devil. Vines creeping bursting through the floor like darkness seeping into the soul. Black with barbed hooks jutting from the stalk and writhing vines that reached out to wind around the child's limbs, if successful.

Strages did have a point she supposed but Pandora did not care to hear it from one far beneath her status of power and history, she was nothing in Pandora's eyes, just another tool to use. Black eyes beaming with influence shot daggers over towards the Strigoi, lips snarling as they parted while the voice of the Goddess spoke with great fury "You believe that I care for a second what you think? Fool, you are nothing but an insect to me. Do you deem yourself that important that I would cower to the low rumble of your ideas? Greatly mistaken, and one fatal mistake!" Pandora's eyes narrowed, if they thought for a moment that they had any worth beneath these spires, they were terribly mistaken. Face lifted up with her infamous arrogance, Darkbane had once served her well, but now, it still stunk of the taint known as Kalicity. It no longer held its power, it no longer brought fear in the hearts of all creatures as they trembled to its name. Now they feared another creature, one far supreme than her or any under the crests of Darkbane.

A brief cold sneer was given to DeMolay, though Pandora had no reason to speak to her as yet, however the brat and Malayeka would learn much from this petty squabble. The child had the skill of the old Darkbane's, the cruelty and deadliness she could recognize in a blink. The child's essence was very similar to that of her nemesis, though of course not as strong and the essence that now coursed through the temple like poison in the veins could not be mistaken as Atra's. The gifted Arch-Priestess of Darkbane, and the only one who could ever claim true monarchy to Darkbane, yet instead chose to be its downfall. Perhaps Darkbane could go down in a blaze of glory, and not the filth of ill-repute Kalicity Darkbane had brought on its head like a diseased plague. That whore had a lot to answer for, and would atone for her lies and falseness by spoken word. Everyone already knew what a fraud she was, and laughed at the name of Kalicity Darkbane.

Pandora knew Malice would also be able to tell of Atra's presence and it would be interesting to see his reactions with her own eyes. The Goddess of Darkbane had no mistake that the Warlord had some sentiment towards the raven-haired beauty, but would he prove to be Atra's judas as he had done so before, or would he be hers? The anticipation was killing her, she wanted this farce over and done with. If Darkbane was going to survive, they would need Atra. And if it should fall, it would be by Atra's hands for no one else had the power or knowledge in how to destroy that which man's wickedness had created. There was one thing that could be certain, she did not understand the full extent of Atra's powers. It was Atra,but it was also like it was not Atra and this is what confused her tremendously. "WHAT IS THIS?" she spoke with a louder voice while hands pushed her upwards from the throne she sat on "YOU DARE SPEAK TO ME THROUGH THE VEILS OF MIST AND DARKNESS? FACE ME OR BEGONE!" Throwing her head up in the air as she spoke, bringing whatever challenge Atra had thrown at her to another level.

[Malice]

Only through great strife, is the strength of one’s character revealed.

Unfurling like the coils of a serpent, the scuffle between invader and initiated continued in predictable, yet none the less explosive, bursts of motion that, to the untrained eye, may have appeared naught but a chaotic dance of blade and nail. Malice, however, discerned the patterns in their posture, from the slightest shift to the faintest twitch and so actually anticipated the ebb and flow of the skirmish with an ease born from thousands of battles, fought from one side of the hells to the next. Driven into a frenzy by Blood Roses’s fury, the undulating wave of insects didn’t appear content with simply bombarding her adversary with their barbs though, for he noticed a stray pack disengage from the main host and hurtle towards Kadasha. Savouring the look of fear written upon her features, the Warlord offered the second swarm an amused smile as it faltered when she brandished a torch and, as if sensing his attention upon them, it suddenly whipped around and heading straight towards him, as their mandibles clicked angrily and they searched for fresh prey.

Regarding the creature’s efforts with interest, Malice allowed them to approach unhindered, remaining in his seat until they veritably smothered him in a flurry of beating wings and probing legs. Focusing upon the fight once more, he didn’t so much as flinch as the swarm broke upon him, like the sea upon a hungry shore, for not even their tiny claws could find a perch upon his handsome face, which was as resilient as marble, and so didn’t receive the slightest scratch, let alone an actual wound. Whilst he casually ignored the swarm, however, a presence stirred at the boundaries of reality and, like an angler reeling in their hook, gradually withdrew until it crept into the Temple itself, bypassing wall and ward with unearthly grace. Perceiving the swarm as a threat, even if Malice himself didn’t, his Abyssal Aura swept forth from him like an invisible hurricane, leaving physical objects unscathed as it honed in on the insects and embraced them with its ghastly touch. Unlike the pestilence of their mistress, or the bloated patron she served, this unique beast transcended mere flesh, boring into the very energy and soul of its victims and smothering them with incalculable levels of decay, reducing the flying terrors to dust as it dismantled their molecular structure.

If there had been an afterlife for those unfortunate bugs, they had been driven far beyond its reach now; for the aura’s insidious effect erased the smallest trace of their existence, as if a wind had suddenly snuffed out a candle’s flame. Malice of course, preferred more brutal pursuits, like watching his foes bleed, but it was perhaps gratifying to know that even after all these Millennia, old bonds still held and there was but another layer of protection beneath the grotesque armour he wore. Carelessly brushing a smouldering pile of the stuff off his shoulder, he continued his vigil on Malayeka for a moment, until the very air itself wept with power and something else slipped passed the Temple’s wards. Tracking the emanation’s progress, as it traversed the labyrinth-like corridors without so much as slowing, he listened to Strages’s words as they went from inquisitive, to outright insolent, while he slowly rose, though whether to address her manners, or merely greet whatever was coming, was anyone’s guess.

Descending the steps of their dais with measured footfalls, Malice stood halfway between the Strigori harpy and the newly formed apparition, cocking his head thoughtfully as he surveyed the situation and considered which of the two would prove a greater thorn in Pandora’s side. Before Malice could pass judgement though, the bottomless void of his gaze, which was still attuned to pierce far more than shadow, drank in the wraith-limbed figure before him with a mixture of delight, and trepidation. Peeling back her many veils like the skin of an onion, though it took his divinity to do so, the visage of Atra’lamia lay bare before his lidless eyes, clothed in the robes of the High Priestess from all those years ago, a sight that spoke of ill omen or, perhaps, the shape of things to come. Events were slowly winding towards a conclusion, he knew, without having to hear whatever words the spectral vision shared with Pandora, for much like prophesy, some things were inevitable, and these two titans from Darkbane’s history were headed on a collision course that even his might could not prevent.

There was a part of him, he supposed, that craved the oblivion Atra’s scorn promised them, if she did indeed dethrone Pandora, but he was reassured that his efforts at preserving the monarchy had not been in vain with Pandora’s next outburst. Expending a fraction of her potential in assaulting the enigmatic child, his Queen radiated a palpable sense of outrage as she leapt up and shouted a challenge in answer to, what Malice presumed, was something Atra had secretly communicated to her. Now this is the Pandora I remember, he thought, as with that one gesture an eternity of complacency gave way to something darker, something primordial and savage. Gauntleted fingers scraped against bone, as the Warlord gripped the hilt of his infamous weapon and, with one smooth tug, unleashed the ravenous longsword from its cage, sending a howl of ecstasy echoing through the room that resembled a banshee’s wail. Kingdoms had risen and fallen before the stroke of this sword and so when Malice chose to wield it into battle, he didn’t do so lightly, but as the pieces finally tumbled into place, he knew that the end of Darkbane’s struggle was near, one way or the other.

Extending one hand towards the heavens, as if he meant to tear the angels themselves from on high, the ceiling of the Temple visibly trembled and shook, as if it were expelling a rotten piece of meat before the maggots reached its belly. Blood and gore rained down upon them as weathered bone gradually began to protrude, like glistening teeth from wounded gums, as a circular construct burrowed its way through the masonry and emerged from its hiding place. Built from the skulls of a million different races and coursing with infernal energy, the strange construct hovered some twenty feet above them, still at first and then rapidly rotating round, round, round, spiralling so fast that it became hard to follow. Known simply as the Mouth of Gehenna, this damned device lead not only to the demi-plane where Malice’s army wintered, but also served as a gigantic portal that could transport anyone he wished across vast distances. Activating the fifty-foot wide ‘mouth’ with a silent command, Malice pinpointed its destination from his earlier observations as [Eden] and then, with a voice that resembled thunder, addressed Pandora. “ Come Pandora, lets settle this once and for all.” Further words were unnecessary, for Pandora would know where the portal lead, would know that in that final hour Malice had played his hand and would lead her to Atra, though whom he would side with when the two behemoths clashed, however, remained to be seen, as black wings sprouted from his back and bore him upwards into the event horizon.

-Notes-

1.  I tried to mention/include everyone's character in this latest post, since it has been a while, and I apologise if i've overlooked anyone while I juggled multiple screens and cross-referenced old posts to get this one to sound 'right'.

2. Kadasha described part of the swarm attacking her in her recent post and so I took the liberty of assuming Blood Roses had no problem with this, and attempted to etch out the details of this event a bit clearer, but if there are any problems feel free to contact me and i'll alter that bit of my post.

3. Just for clarity's sake here- I had Malice find Atra/her Army in an earlier post in preperation for this and that is how Malice is able to suddenly make a portal there, I in no way am attempting to God-mode anything there.

4. I obtained permission from Dy/Atra before mentioning that Malice could infact detect/see her projection, though i've tried to keep it as believable as possible and didn't let Malice listen in on what Atra says to Pandora.

5. Whilst the Mouth of Gehenna is generally intended to be used only by Malice and Pandora, if anyone else would like to come and bear witness to what follows in Eden, feel free to do so, it will admit anyone that was in the Temple when it was activated.

As ever if there are any other questions/comments about my post, feel free to pm me.

-Ej-

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