A magnificent return....?

[Darkness Incarnate]

On the eve of the new moon, in the realm of Naethryn, there is a stirring in the shadows as Cyan begins to make his appearance after so many years in the dark abyss that is his sleep, and now he has come to this fresh, twisted world with a desire different from any in his past; to remain hidden. And so, on this night of deepest natural darkness, save for the light cast down from the distant stars themselves, Cyan has come, and from the Plane of Darkness he brings a wave of the essence of pure darkness up from the ground, as it takes a jagged, liquid shape before becoming a grotesque, spike covered black fortress, the New Castle Nightbane, sitting in a desolate field that is covered in the thick fog common in Naethryn.

      Immediately after the castles complete formation on the material plane there are changes in the environment around it, one such change being that the fog is replaced by a smokey black ink that seems alive, writhing and flowing all around the castle. There is also a very malevolent, unique and inherently evil aura that emanates from the walls of the shadow building itself, as if a cry to the world that there is a great power waiting to be found. Cyan, though planning to use the castle now and again, intends for it to be used mostly as a diversion, something to draw the attention of all that can sense such auras that are interested in the curiosity that has formed.

       Thus Cyan can move freely through the world, hiding his power from the world as best as he can, though he doesn’t really need to because the castle itself emanates with the same violent and destructive power that Cyan himself would be sensed as, though the castle, in its massive form, casts a very wide area of influence around it’s walls, stretching for dozens of miles in all directions. Finally, he begins to take shape in his newest, and first true body in ages, though he remains cloaked behind a living cloth of shadow. His eyes open, and though the darkness around the castle is thick and impenetrable by all light, he sees through the darkness with a multitude of visions (Infrared and Nightvision, as it were), and thus he is able to detect even that which would otherwise be invisible to normal night sight, though his ability to sense life forces would make up for that.
 
        Cyan takes in his first breath with his newly formed body, and takes his first step into the world of Naethryn, seeking out those that can provide him with a position of power in the hierarchy of the land, or perhaps those with a power that can rival his, if such beings exist here. As he gets further and further away from his castle of darkness, he stops and takes a look back atop a hill, knowing he would return now and again, and perhaps permanently at some point, before he turns and walks down the hill and out of sight.

[Darkness Incarnate]

He hadn’t even been walking for a full day before he came across a small, deserted village, with the doors to most of the buildings wide open and blowing in the dry wind. As he entered the town’s edge, he reached out briefly with his mind, searching for any sign of life, but finding nothing. Cyan detected a strange odor with his superior sense of smell, something akin to rotting flesh that he couldn’t locate the source of, though the towns air was filled with the stench. He had been walking deeper and deeper into the village, with the smell of rotten flesh growing stronger with every step he took, when finally he came around a corner and saw a mangled human corpse.

It didn’t surprise him, and in fact he reacted with nothing more than indifference to it, though he did notice it was a females body and that it had been torn apart by some vicious beast, with wounds all over what remained of the torso. The land of Naethryn is a peculiar one indeed. I suppose I will find similar areas of death through the rest of this town, but probably no sign of the cause. Still, I may as well wait here until night, when I will have better sight and senses… Cyan thought to himself, as he turned and continued walking down the main street through the village, spotting more corpses as he walked along, all with the same marks and more or less the same damage done to the bodies. Though some remain recognizable to some extent, others are hardly more then a pool of blood, the flesh is so shredded and mostly eaten, apparently by the same unknown beast.

Perhaps it is the creature I detected before I arrived at the village, though I thought that was nothing more than a wolf, or something similar. Perhaps the creatures of this land are far more terrible and malicious than I thought. he thought as he finally came to a stop in front of a building that didn’t seem to have been damaged by the creature, for whatever reason that may be. Cyan takes hold of the door handle and enters, and the sight he sees within this time does indeed surprise him, as he had assumed the building had not been attacked by whatever had slain the entire village, though upon entering he sees how foolish he was to assume such a thing.

Just across from where he stands, in what appears to be a kitchen, is a room covered so completely in blood and human body parts, pieces of skulls with flesh still attached, and clumps of hair here and there in the horrid mess. A smile spreads across his face as he looks deeper into the building, moving up the stairs of the small house before coming to a stop once more at the top, more blood and body parts laying everywhere, though they all seem to be the body parts of a child. Again, his smile widened as he observed the carnage, Whatever creature did this would be quite a pet to bring under my control. I should sleep in one of these places of death so that I may dream see that which has killed everything here, and perhaps find it.. he thought to himself, as he walked back down the stairs and made his way to the kitchen.

He stopped in the middle of the room to look at the table, covered in countless small and randomly sized and shaped pieces of flesh, possibly the internal organs. The mess all over the table looked as if it was something that had been chewed with very sharp fangs and then spit out. It desecrates it’s victims bodies, interesting… Cyan thought to himself as he stepped away from the table and then lay down in the thick of the macabre area of slaughter, and closed his eyes to let his body sleep.

[The End of All Light.]

[align=justify:c79a50b443]Should one seek, they would surely find… did this creature truly wish to ‘see’ the Goddess? His mind would have to reach out to tap upon her ever-watchful perceptions; lingering to strike or stroke, caress or curse. Most of the tender embraces were for preparation of slaughter, painfully leisured to strip an entity down to its bare essentials. By fate alone, or even destiny- whatever he held onto for hope or perverse belief; perhaps soon day soon it would crumble only to reveal the secret that all above or below were they are the true masters of their own kismet not some sublime presence of godlike divinity or a trio of foreboding old crones bringing the scissors to sever that golden thread. The keepers of the eye, watching over crucified corpses aligning the black-charred horizon; these fools mattered not… nothing mattered of life or death, both embraced the other ever so endearingly. Achromatic mirrors reflecting the carnage, drinking in the horror with a sanguine smirk of satisfaction, slyly highlighting the Caucasoid ambiance of her complexion, albescent… shading in from black to white, monochromatic. Black leather like spinel taut to the composure, proud and erect on her Wamphyric Warhorse- a beast forged and crafted from the vats of her empire, crafted into that of an obsidian juggernaut. Black on black, midnight rivulets billowing in the tempest in unison with stallion’s mane caught and tussled in each talon of wintry spite. Forelock adorned with spiked Chamfron (head), crafted and sculptured from silver with stylish fluting and embellishments, fully plated to conceal the mounts head. Shaffron, chainmail crinet (neck defense) jet mail neck guard, articulated peytral (chest defense) and crupper (rump defense). Impressive and elaborate to behold.

Left fetlock rising at the knee only to plow down viciously against the dry earth, frosty arabesques of breath pluming from temperate nostrils only to collide against the blizzards raking along the cadaver littered scenery. Sequenced nickering soon to follow, patience faltering for remaining stationary for too long a period of time- never seeing or causing enough bloodshed for sport, destruction was plentiful so why not indulge to perfume the senses. A brisk snap of the reins and spur to stifles, digging into the soft ebony pelt with a flash of argentated precious metal inspiring the animal to rise upon back quarters and powerfully lunge forth in vigorous pace, galloping. Mithril pinnacles pounding… tearing up the earth, robust gait ripping chunks from the mother, allowing the terra firma to spill forth its sustaining essence only to be stabbed, punctured and hatefully raped. Again and again by those weapons of careless adoration- scimitars revolving into evolutionary spirals with blades grinning heinously in the gloom of moonlight and darkness enshrouded. Finding their solace in the sheaths to her adjacent hips, lifted and poised beneath the thunderous stead with head bowed, slicing through the blizzard infused elements with defiance. Calamity resounding, ricocheting the ground beneath each hoof as if collided… compelling speed and swiftness, not even a silhouette of an image in the night. The only indication that something loomed was the sound of galloping annihilation.  Pestilence had been unleashed, and death biting at its heels in the form of cruel beauty.

Poignant, stirring the enflamed loins of midnight, woe and suffering: action was needed not the stagnant conversations of great men doing nothing, not on the verge of battles and wars. Atra had returned from Sharvani, but now it was time to extract the information required. The need of her little ‘pets’ worked the trick as overhead thick surges of black smothered the melancholic moonlight, like a giant hand choking life in a stranglehold. Bats… scores in the hundreds, leathery wings beating to sift them through the looming storm, razor-wings slicing through the clouds and howling squalls- aerial surveillance was all that Atra required, she cared not of numbers for the bigger the giant the harder it shall fall; nothing tantalized her more than the thought of an empire crumbling at her feet. Snapping at the reins to bring her champion at a sudden halt, the dark recesses leading into the world of Sharvani, chin tilting to witness the beauty above. Stygian smugness etching over seductive alizarine-crimson lips as they parted to release the only command she’d give unto them ”Exibeo cunctus nex apud mei oculus!! Exibeo mei suus orbis ex suus orbis!!” None would know of their purpose save for Atra, perhaps she had an agenda all of her own in secret, away from the eyes of her peers or lovers? Remaining on the summit of the threshold between these two worlds, conjured and fumigated by the wafts of death filtering twixt the gaps of the barriers... [/align:c79a50b443]

[Darkness Incarnate]

His eyes opened, and Cyan saw that the day had come to its end, that night had fallen in all of its dangerously perfect beauty, and he parted his lips in a smirk. I will be able to find this creature with ease now. The beast has no escape, it will submit or be destroyed. he to himself for a moment, before again cherishing the beautiful gore in the room he had slept in that told volumes of the horrors that had befallen whatever mortal once lived here, and then he began walking, making his way back down the stairs and out of the building. All the while, he is searching through the darkness, in essence through himself, that has fallen over the realm with nothing more then a thought.

As he slept, he had been dream seeing, so to speak, and he had been traveling through the plane of shadows, searching not only for the creature, but also for the source of the strange presence he had detected in the area, the foreboding sense of destruction and death, in physical form nearby but still somehow hidden from his ever prying eyes. As he made his way out of the house now though, with darkness covering the land and only a crescent moon to light the sky, he took in a deep breath and smiled, for Cyan knew it would not be long now. He would find both of the things he sought, and he would gain himself a servant beast or have a fun time slaying an abomination, it didn’t matter to him.

The second thing he sought was all that truly mattered, for it was a strange, terrible power that he felt, though he could not place where or what it was or why it was familiar to him, perhaps something or someone from his past. It was only a matter of time, but as he is searching through the darkness around him, seeing clearly as the near absolute darkness of the forest around the village illuminated everything, making it so he could see more completely then if it were a cloudless day. Within a few moments, his wide spread sight comes across several different human body parts lying at the entrance of a small cave on the mountain to the south of the village, and he knows immediately that this is the lair of the creature he seeks.

In the next instant, he is viewing the cave from the darkness inside it, and he sees the source of his curiosity, tearing into the belly of a human that is still alive, with blue skin from cyanosis that is apparently being caused by the beasts tail, which is wrapped tightly around the mans throat. Just then Cyan came to an eye opening revelation, and his sight into the cave as well as the entire forest ended as he realized where it was that he detected this presence before, and not only that but also who it is; Atra‘Lamia. He had finally found the woman that had originally informed him of his true purpose, of the Prophecy of Eternal Darkness that foretold his existence, and even many events of his life. He had only had the pleasure of speaking with the beautiful Atra on a few occasions, but what he learned from her as well as what knowledge she may still have to share with him made her a very important ally to Cyan, at least in his own eyes.

Upon discovering the truth behind what he had felt, he closed his eyes once more and focused only a little harder then he had before, and he again searches through the entire forest around him, witnessing many creatures, both predator and prey. As his vision comes to a clearing in the trees and then across a barren wasteland filled with jagged rocks and deep crevices torn into the earths flesh, he finally sees the beautiful form of Atra’Lamia, standing in all of her deadly beauty at the edge of the forest and the wasteland, only a mile away. Once he sees her, it’s as if he is there since he is the darkness he is viewing her from, and so with a thought he is there. He takes a step forward and his body dissolves into a black cloud at the village, and instantly his body forms from the shadows cast by the trees from the moonlight, appearing to merely step forward from thin air.

He looks to her form and smiles, eying her over for a moment as he drops to a knee, offering her the greatest sign of respect he has ever offered anyone. Infact he has never knelt before another being, though as he kneels it is for a reason other then to show servitude, or lower standing, but to instead show that he does indeed respect her and that he is thankful for what she showed him, for she has great knowledge and power and she once aided him greatly in a trying time. Cyan rises, his hands come up to the hood of his cloak as he draws it back. As the hood comes off of his head, the moonlight glistens somewhat brightly off of his hair, and his lips part, “It is an honor to bear witness to your form once more, Atra’Lamia. I have long sought you out, and at last I have again found you. Perhaps you can aid me, though, for I do not know these lands. Do you? Or are you like myself, a newcomer here?” he asks, closing his mouth as he falls silent and awaits her reply.

[The End of All Light.]

[align=justify:8d6b711fe3]It wouldn’t take much to step from one stone to the next and much could be said for the barriers separating these two volatile worlds. Attention had not swayed from the focus set before her, however, Atra still was aware that some figure approached, whether by darkness or some elemental form of ‘walking’… it was just one transgression to another, residue was always left even by the most careful of weavers. There was no need for immediate concern, or thoughts relating to ambush or trap; there would none that could touch her let alone force her to remain any creatures prisoner… she was untouchable to most save for that of her Dark Lord. Maintaining her stance, mount becoming restless…seeking for that dark malignant rush to gather mane and breeze in the tragedy of screams and agony, basking in the fear released from pleas of mercy that would go snickered and overlooked. There was nothing of pity and certainly nothing of sorrow. These cattle deserved to die by the hands of mercenaries, engorged on the addiction of slaughter, murder… every weak and plagued race should be culled and mortal kind was no different.

Atra’s head remained looking out over the breathing forest, a tapestry of shadows and darkness, bidding to the veneration of am unseen mistress- bowing heavy heads as if worshipping her very feet or the loins which had brought forth the abundance they now diseased- torn through the seismic breach only to birth another bastard to slay. Wintry mirrors of frosted night narrowing with a gaze of heinous revelation as sanguine apertures tensed into a nefarious simper highlighting the arches of chiseled exquisiteness. Beauty monochromatically silhouetted by melancholy silvery moonlight and the scant arabesque of miasma fornicating with the darkness only to create shadowy limbs that merged and augmented in orgies of squamous plethoric caresses. A silent taken forth, a figure finally merging out from the blanketed gloom, illuminated by the same cruel portent of the death-masked moon shining down in argentated radiance… chromed by the swirling elements which seemed to adorn both liberally.

By first glance, Atra did not recognize the cloaked figure, svelte physique casually poised on the roman war saddle, waist twisting slightly in the straddled position while reins rested in her hold, slacking them just a little to allow the beast to lower its head and examine the figure in close scrutiny, snorting and inhaling his scent. There was no indication as to why this figure bowed respectfully or submissively… whatever the case may have been it was overlooked with mild amusement. Slender ravenesque brow arching in a questioning manner while watching his tall figure rise to full composure before her, though still above and not below- remaining on her juggernaut, elegant and grandiose. Waiting for the clandestine face behind the mantle of night, taking notice as that fabric was pushed back to reveal one that still immediately she did not recognize until finally the sound of silver bells resounded in her mind… familiarity.

Attentively listening to his speech how he had sought to find her and whether she could aid him in his travels or endeavor’s. Chin dipping in a brief nod of acknowledgement before her own cerise lips of blood would retort in kind with honeyed haunted soliloquy. ”Excuse my lack of reminiscence, but it seems you have evaded my memory. Be a sweetie and refresh it!” Sinister intentions bloomed over her picturesque features as moonlight reflected down over porcelain ivory hues of flesh and the spinel gleam of taut leather and chains. Was she just playing to see what he would declare himself to be or did she truly not place his face? Dulcet timbre edged with cynical seductions followed with yet another response to his questions, indicating she was indeed playing, but what she was playing at would be coveted behind the fogs within her psyche. ”I may be able to assist you… it just depends on how you wish to be…assisted!” A more sassy smirk transformed through the demure boldness of her façade… it would be his answers that would give him the key to that which he sought to find above all else.[/align:8d6b711fe3]

[Darkness Incarnate]

It was a dangerous place to be for anyone, though neither of the two had reason to fear, or be on edge. He did not consider her an enemy, though that does not mean he would not fight to get what he desires and seeks, though such thoughts were far back in his mind, not even true options. The scene couldn't be more in his favor though, for though the moon shined through the trees at his back a little, the sky was black with storm clouds, thunder rumbling regularly across the heavens as bolts of lightning struck the ground around them, sometimes only a few hundred feet away. Darkness is prevalent for miles around them, giving way only for the brief moments that the jagged claws of electrical rage tear through the sky and light the faces of both Atra and Cyan, standing between oblivion and life, forest and wasteland. It seemed that their presence in the realms’ edge so close to one another was the cause of the storms sudden formation as it rolled further across the sky, blocking the crescent moon out completely, making it so that the frequent bolts of lightning would be the only source of light, flashing like a strobe and mirroring the plethora of possibilities that this scene could turn out, the chaos that could come from their meeting.

And so order is gone, as the first drops of rain begin to fall, first there is a slight drizzle, but it is soon a steady downpour  that crashed down  on both of them, and the areas nearby as well. He paid no attention to her intentional slack in the reigns to her steed, allowing it to gain better view of him , or perhaps bite him, who knows. It did not matter, for such a beast was nothing, of lower intellect and thereby useless. However, when Atra spoke, his eyes held even with hers as he listened carefully and respectively to what she said, and he thought for a moment over her words. “I’ve evaded your memory? Hmmm. Then I will be a “sweetie” and refresh it. I am Cyan Nightbane,  Lord of many and none.  You once sought me out, with a scroll that prophesied much about myself and my eventual reign over the world. The scroll was titled “The Reign of Eternal Darkness,” Cyan says, holding his left hand out to her, ignoring the horse as it eyes his movement. A black, inky substance seeps out from the palm of his hand, forming into a black cylinder that would seem to be the scroll he just spoke of.





I am the High Priest Daruk Nour, and I serve under the Lord Tarsias of Eden as an advisor. Of late I have been visited by what I can only describe as an Angel. When this holy being first appeared before me he said his name was Yoshito, but when I looked to where the words came from I could only see brilliant light. I tried to speak but the angelic form silenced me with its true, mighty voice as it spoke thus:



"By my saying this, I set in motion what must be."


"Long after your life ends, deep in the abysmal underworld blood will flow, and a demon lord will fall. His counterpart will plot his revenge and rebirth and she will build a temple to do this. Her greed and malicious intent will taint the energies around the resurrection chamber, and below in the darkness a consciousness will form over time."

"Still, it will take many more lifetimes of men before the abomination is formed. When it is, is will rise up from the darkness in place of the demon lord and even take a form similar to the demons own."

"As the beast takes its first steps into the world as it leaves the temple, it will be filled with a lust for destruction. Its entry into the human world fulfills the first part of what I now prophesy. Without pause, like a moth to the flame, it will be drawn to where there is the most life, and it will tear asunder the lives of men."

"This path of death and destruction will inevitably gain the attention of those who protect the weak and innocent, and they will band together and destroy the beasts' body; this act will fulfill yet another part of the Prophecy of Darkness I now tell you."

"With the creatures physical destruction, its soul will return to that from whence it came, and in darkness it will grow strong and more pure in its essence."

"After some time, it will form anew once again, and with its first rebirth it will return in a form less beastly then its first, though still by no means human."

"Again, it will bring terror and death to the world of men, this time with the intent of drawing out its enemies. Many powerful heroes will fall to the creature in this time, until finally the Guardians that had defeated him before reappear to send him back to the dark abyss."

"Once more the creature of darkness will fall before them, though this second death will fulfil another part of this prophecy. This time, however, they will not destroy his body and will instead banish him to the darkness, and this act will force the creature to again undergo a time of transformation and awakening."

"As a result of the banishment the creature will remain in the dark abyss for far longer than before, this time for a quarter of a lifetime of man before it's bestowed with new abilities and greater knowledge of itself."

"One of the things it will learn is the ability to form an empty body from darkness itself and transfer its entire consciousness into the new body. Once it does this it will be reborn for a second time and it will be able to bypass the banishment placed on it."

"He will return to the world for a third time, this time in a human body, and he will aid the rise of a demon empire over the human nations before he will fight against it after he is possessed by a powerful entity from places unimagineably far away. The possession by this entity will force his consciousness from his body as the entity controls it and forces it to act out various attacks against the empire it helped create. After time, because the entity haf forced him to the dark abyss in such a fashion, he will finally grow to his purest form, and thereby become Darkness Incarnate. With this ascension he will far surpass the power of the creature controlling him and easily overpower its will and break free."

"However, once he returns to his body with his newfound power, his body will begin to dissolve into nothingness as a result, though this is another fulfillment of the prophecy as he returns to the darkness to be reborn into the world once more, though with all of his power intact."

"When finally he is reborn for the third and final time, after sacrificing his own blood for personal gain, he will begin to destabilize the world as the final act of the prophecy comes true and eternal night is unleashed on the world."


"By my saying this, you have been chosen by a power higher and more mighty than I, and I have set in motion what must be, though I have also set in motion that which has the ability to prevent all of this..."


"You know what must be done."




Thus I was told, and as suddenly as the angelic being had appeared it was gone before my eyes. With it went the sense of peace it brought over me, as I began to ponder over the words  and images that have beened burned into my mind. I have written this as it transpired, for I can never forget that glorious presence and the feeling of peace and contentment, nor can I forget the message I have been charged with delivering.
~Daruk Nour




“Perhaps you should read that again, if I have still not come to your memory. Do not take me wrong. I come to you seeking aid, aid in achieving my purpose. I know you have vast knowledge, and power, as well. I have returned to this world, for the third time I have been reborn. I do not know what I have to offer in return to one such as yourself, but perhaps I could be of some service to you in achieving your own schemes, or other things... What say you?” he asks, falling silent just as another bolt of lightning cuts it’s way through the air above them, followed almost immediately by a roaring, reverberating clap of thunder. Yes, the setting was perfect. Now he only had to wait for her reply, and so he did.

[The End of All Light.]

[align=justify:0c15b0f1f5]Leaning forth, elbows coming to rest against the taut leather constricting over her knees- looking down directly upon his visage as eyebrow peeked curiosity even further over her chromatically paled features. Listening to his little story about past associations before shrugging nonchalantly, shoulders lifting with the carefree elegance of body language partially aggressive and the other casual to the acquaintance illuminated by the silvery tridents piercing the ebon-firmament above, celestial lances disemboweling the heavens swirling above them with fury and agitation. Every movement made, leather protested over limbs, becoming more comfortable in her posture as the delicate icy rain began to fall. Crystalline beads of moisture captured upon the midnight mantle and within delta rivulets, gleaming now as if small jewels were woven into the darkness of iridescent cascades, dampening to plaster over tourniquet of exposed bodice. Diamonds decorating her supple flesh, giving it that gleaming wet look appeal… beads breaking only to trickle over opulent pert landscapes.

Psilomelaine mirrors briefly glanced upwards, chin tilting with the motion to adorn her in the benediction of tender caress, angelic tears plummeting down to earth only to land softly over her exquisite features and tongue. Perceptions listening as he spoke, eyes closing only for a brief moment behind dew-lidded eyes as if drifting back to the time he spoke of. ”Ah… my past always seems to come back to haunt me. How delectable! You speak of a time when I served the Overlord Varsinax as the Sorceress of Aoyn, later when I ruled Eden and later Tenaria. Correct? Time means nothing to me, each century only bleeds into the next. I am not so now like I was then.” Cadence sounded far, drifting on the waters of Lethe, distant and detached… though only for a moment before bringing herself back to this evening beneath the hallowed moon. The scroll in mention being held out to her for offering though she would not take it, only smirk coldly. ”I am familiar with it as well as you!”

Atra’s words falling into vocal silence only for a moment to permit her to bask in the rapid flashes of lightening before the reverberation of sonorous thunder. Pondering just how he could possibly help her, only to have a very nefarious thought percolate into the treacherous demeanor of her characteristics. There was nothing anyone could do for her that Atra couldn’t achieve for herself and even though she was a member of the clan known and feared as Darkbane, she preferred to do her own thing in solitude all the while plotting and planning certain deaths. How she could be the very nemesis they would never suspect. No one could betray as sweet as her, she had the cunningness and manipulation to have anyone in the palm of her hand or wrapped around her tiny little finger. ”I do not see how we could aid each other Cyan… I have moved my way in the cross-dimension of worlds in my own solitude and from my own perfidious heart. Do you seek conquest or universal condemnation? What is it you seek?”

Elegantly waving her hand towards the scroll in gesture of not wishing to see it, or that she cared not to see it… each prophesy written could be thwarted all it took was an action not predetermined. Words can be twisted and prophecies were never so straight forth when their hexes or blessings- both were possible and could be changed simply by error of definition to see through the tricks and mirrors. Considering his offer, only to shake her head to decline the offer with an expression of absolute amusement ”I have no use of mouth-blown scriptures written by feeble old men, delusional angels or even demons trying to establish their throne over a world of fools born to die… that is our gift to them, a slow and painful death, what other destiny can there be that I cannot simply change, should it suit me?” Another dark smirk eclipsed her features… while eyes gleamed with burning misanthropy. [/align:0c15b0f1f5]

[Darkness Incarnate]

He listens to her as she speaks of how her past always comes to haunt her, and reminisce for a moment, and as he listens his eyes never stray from hers. At her gesture, he turns his left hand over and drops the scroll, letting it fall to the ground only for it to become a black cloud of dust and blow away.  As she begins speaking again, he listens once more to what she has to say, attentive to her every word as she goes on about feeble old men, delusional angels and demons, as well as one thing Cyan agrees completely with Atra on; the humans are a race born to die, and as superior beings it is their purpose to purge the plague that is mankind. As she speaks, his smile only widens, and when she at last finished saying what she has to say, he opens his mouth to reply, “I seek to bring the world under my will. I seek to condemn all of the weak humans to a slow, torturous death. I seek this so that I may bring the mortal world to be like hell, but worse and filled with far more suffering and damned souls. I seek to bring a thunderous dirge of lamenting cries across the land for all to hear, for I, like you, relish in the exquisiteness of the slaughter and death of those that are less than myself. Certainly, there is something I can aid you with in exchange for your services and knowledge, for I believe our final aspirations are very similar, and I would not mind ruling a damned world with a terrible, vicious Queen such as yourself at my side.  What say you, Atra’Lamia?” he asks, falling silent.

Just as he finishes speaking, there is another, brilliant flash of lightning that comes flaring down from the sky, this time striking the ground only a few dozen feet away, and thus the boom of thunder that follows is almost instant, and much louder and more reverberating than any of the thunderclaps from afar. The rain continues to pour down from above all around them, already starting to form pools in many areas and making a muddy mess in others. For a moment, as he waits for her response, he lets his eyes wonder, observing the chaos of the storm in its full fury, but after that moment ends he brings his gaze once more to meet hers, above him as she sits “safe” on her mighty steed. “Perhaps I am mistaken, though, so since I have been a sweetie and been honest with you about what it is I seek, I ask that you share your own desires with me. After all, out here in this empty wasteland, what else do we have to do but talk, or fight...?” he asks, eying her physical reactions carefully to ascertain what it is she might be thinking. Personally, Cyan has no desire to fight her, though it has long been a belief of his that combat can show the truest character of a being, whether malevolent or not, and should he need to act, he has no restraints against one that strikes first.

[The End of All Light.]

[align=justify:3a908a4e3a]Atra listened reasonably attentively to speeches and wills of annihilation and destruction; having heard the same stories for millennia unfolded and it had already long lost its past fervor. Usually not one for talking these days, just words no longer held the zeal and passion she once had or desire to partake in intellectual conversations; these days Atra simply wanted to extract their souls and really give the world something to scream about. Pain had been long thwarted by peace, suffering and agonies of death and war had long been replaced by the happiness and tea party effect of living, existing… if of course they could call it living; one never knew when to appreciate life when they knew Death would come knocking on their chamber doors to bequeath his frozen kiss upon temperate vistas. Only then could life be truly appreciated, the scales had been tipped and evil seemed to have crawled away back to the abyss to sulk in its own musky satin draped tomb, holding rare flowers.

Why should Atra be the one to shatter this ones mind, taking away his aspirations and dreams? That would be only end his suffering, why not manipulate this exposed desire and use it for her own advantage; why put the beast out of its misery when it still had many years left of hard labor? It was certainly something to consider even though she had lovers but not betrothed by faithfulness- this would be the perfect fly in the ointment to have someone killed or do the job herself in the heat of the moment within the blackened Elysium of her chambers? The question was, would this be the triangle she herself wanted to get involved with and would it jeopardize the resurrection of Darkbane? And how to separate one from the three? What a lovely little mess it could create what a chaotic instance of calamity it could bring upon all their heads and to be honest enough Atra was just random and insane enough to jump at the chance… after all lust only increased her own dominancy for worship came in many forms.

Smirking mischievously to herself with all these hidden thoughts surfacing from the deviousness of her mind, should their union occur, it would more than likely get Cyan dead? There was certainly much to consider. Chuckling darkly to herself, another crash of thunder rolling across the sky, erratic flashes following the booming resonation to highlight the valley in a toxic radiance of silvery static. Claret lips beguiling behind the shadows as the fogs crept in scant wreathes only to wrap and coalesce with her every curvaceous limb and leather clad stature only to accentuate those curves beyond event he most scrupulous of virtues and control. ”How forward are we?” Atra eventually responded, the rhetorical question not intending to be answered but more of a statement in regards to them ruling… together? ”What makes you think I am woman who likes to share?” Voice purring with seductive allure, deceitful and machiavellian; illuminated by the flashes of lightening, shimmering bursts lightening the area around them not to mention her saturated lengths of sleek midnight and diamond adorned leather.

Another grin manifesting as sultry and sassy words emerged suggesting numerous possibilities though how Cyan defined them would be purely viable his own interpretations ”Oh? I can think of plenty of things to do on a dark eve such as this and neither involves talking or fighting… but dying is certainly a pleasure either could endure.” Again that cold smirk emerged, mind racing with all the possibilities though knowing not even she could lower standards already set no matter what mayhem could become of it. [/align:3a908a4e3a]

[Darkness Incarnate]

As he spoke, he watched her facial expression as it changed now and again, and he too smiled when she did, as he gazed into her eyes all the while. Her eyes were so like his own, yet a little different. And her blood red lips, carved exquisitely on her perfectly shaped faced, framed by long, jet black hair that all drew out the desire of his fleshly body, a new sensation since his ascension into godhood in the past. Certainly, she was a deadly jewel, to be cherished and simultaneously kept at a safe distance, for she was as crazy of a bitch as she was beautiful. He snapped back to the here and now when she spoke, speaking of how forward he is, and as a result Cyan just grins, acknowledging what she says with a slight nod. When she speaks next, asking about why he thinks she is a woman that likes sharing, his smile only widens. “Come now, Atra. I’m sure you’re already plotting my demise, like any good Queen, so we probably wouldn‘t share much of anything, but our bodies tonight..“ he says after she finishes speaking for the third time, of how dying is a pleasure either could endure.

He doesn‘t quite understand her meaning, but takes it as if she meant killing others is something they could do, since death is enjoyable for the two of them. When she finishes speaking, he waits for a moment, caught in his thoughts, pondering what he should do next in his attempts to entice her. After a moment, he smiles again, and takes a step forward towards her, moving around the right side of the horse, staring it in the eye briefly as if to challenge it to bite him or snort at him. In the next instant, he is again looking up into Atra’s eyes as he moves closer to her before finally stopping. He raises both of his hand up to his neck and draws the knot loose, letting the cloak on him fall to the ground, leaving his extremely ripped, bare torso exposed to both sight and the onslaught of the rain.  He then moves his left hand up and places it on her right thigh, and on her ass a little, while he also brings his right hand up and holds it out open to her, so that she will take hold of it and he may help her down from her horse, “What I offer is not so much that we rule together, but that we kill and destroy together, if only for a while. Perhaps even enjoy the time. You yourself said there are plenty of things to do aside from talk or fight, and I agree.“ he says, before pausing for a moment to watch her face.

“We can go now, together, and find the nearest village of mortals and bring them to feel pain they have previously never known, and then when they realize how good their life was, as they lay dying, kill them before they find their sense of peace. By nights end, I would like to lay with you on this perfect, moonlit stormy night, in the blood of innocent children. I want to begin our reign of terror in the blood of innocence, for someday I am sure it is bound to end in blood, whether mine or another’s. Or we can do something else entirely, if such is your palette, you need only speak your desire, and we shall fulfil them together. What say you, Atra’Lamia?” Cyan asks her, looking into her eyes the entire time as he stands there, exposed and seemingly vulnerable as another mighty flash of lightning illuminates the sky, as always followed by the mighty thunder that has become common over the time the storm has raged around them.

[The End of All Light.]

[align=justify:aa50105300]Oh he was a brave one indeed… either that or insanely foolish; shadows merging across her features from the mitigation of vapor and moonlight now dispersing to grant her features in albescent splendor. Whether by some dark miracle Cyan had managed to understand how she thoughts better than those around her or he was simply clutching at straws and losing his interest at a rather rapid pace; who knew, not even that would summit upon the psyche of her wicked vices ”At least you haven’t insulted me with roses and pretty words!” Diabolical refulgence beaming with a swarming malignance, monochromatic exquisiteness only emphasized by those rubiescent symmetrical arches of her lips blossoming into that ever unfurling nefarious sneer… the ‘bodies’ suggestion only inspired a burst of raspy laughter, just when her attention was faltering, he had managed to provide an instance of burlesqued caricature ”You flatter yourself!” Words spoken at the instance his step advanced closer, though he would have to take care not to approach too close for the spikes of armor to flanks would effortlessly pierce his limbs should her mount suddenly bound and shove against his form.

Crimson eyes through mithril Chamfron, glowing with bright intensity, burning deep into his essence, muzzle nudging the air with violent protest as hellish hot breath snorted from black velvet nostrils… maws peeling back to reveal the many rows of jagged obsidian mithril canines, head twisting around to follow Cyan’s movement towards its Mistress… snapping from behind towards the mid-point of his back, fangs prepped to grant a nasty and deep infliction. This was just no ordinary horse, taken from the genetics of War Horse, Bloodthirster, Wamphyri and Manticora, to think otherwise is indefinitely deluded. Disrobed to exhibit the stature from beneath, causing Atra’s eyes to look upon him with a single mellifluous swooping glance, flambeau’s igniting with opiate resplendence. Drifting down to follow the tone of rippling muscle only to return her focus back to his façade, his speech of death and the suffering they could cause while his hand grazed against her leather tourniquet thigh, slick with rain. ”Would you have me neglect my post just for romp in the rain or bask in the blood of innocence? As tempting as it may sound…?”

Mirrors of wickedness rolled, his hand curving around to smoothly rub against the taut firmness of her buttocks, eyes following the motion of his hand with arched brow then following the gesture of his hand to aid her from her ebon-juggernaut- right hand sweeping across her left side in one fluid elegant motion to furl around the hilt of scimitar, extracting it upwards while silver gleamed like a macabre smile only to instantly swing across with a backhand rapid strike, force against his right, swifter than the eye could perceive- applying the strength from Atra’s shoulder and spine. Atra’s position straddled… permitting the eloquence of prompt and forced blow following through with a slight twist from her slender waist into the swing. Slashing abhorrence... hacking towards and between the extension of his arm, between the joining of elbow and upper appendage, easily severing it should contact be met since he was positioned at her right side… if he already knew she would more than likely attempt to kill him; they may as well skip the foreplay and get right down to business; she didn’t just bed anyone who came unto her speaking of destruction in the rain… her ‘affections’ weren’t so readily given and if he wanted them? Cyan would have to be prepared to work for them.[/align:aa50105300]

[Darkness Incarnate]

The downpour of chaotic rain drops on them and all around them had long since become a monotone in the background, almost forgotten if it weren’t for the endless barrage of the rain against their bodies, or the lightning and thunder which flared and resounded frequently. When first she speaks, of how he has at least not insulted her, he smiled, and simply remained silent with his gaze locked on her own obsidian eyes, never faltering. And after she speaks again, the smile on his face widens a little more, “I wasn’t aware you were here on business..” is all he says in reply, all the while watching her face and body language as he has been. With each step he took, his focus never once strayed from her beauty, nor did his eyes stray from hers. Even as her terrible mount snorted at his passing, and even snapped at his back, he did not look away or flinch, instead he continued forward, for nothing would keep him from his goal; Atra’Lamia.

The clouds had parted above them, if only for a moment, and allowed the moon to shine through and interrupt the darkness enshrouding them, lighting both of their forms more then the lightning could on it’s own, and thus her perfect features are even more radiant, illuminated in the cold, faint light of the crescent moon. As he caresses her thigh, and then her buttocks, gripping firmly for a moment, he still does not lose his focus on her eyes or her face, seemingly entranced by Atra, though he takes note of her eyes as they dart over his movements. When her right arm twitches with her brains signal to act, he sees her movement. Swift, and fluent indeed, but his eyes are like that of an owl, for though the field mouse is quick, the owl sees at night. Such was his vision, even as he stood in her shadow cast by the moon, he was already beginning to move his arms back and stepping to the left and away as her scimitar curved upward and glistened with silvery brilliance for the briefest of moments in the moonlight, before cutting swiftly down through nothing but air. Her mount had been close to taking a chunk out of his side, too, for he felt the warmth of it’s breath on his back as he stepped away from Atra’s sword attack. With a slight effort, the muscles in his legs tighten and Cyan jumps backwards away from Atra’ Lamia, landing some fifteen feet away.

Completing his little hop back, Cyan smiles, now more visible to her sight as he stands in the moonlight himself, unblocked by Atra and her large mount. His right hand moved from his side, to the hilt of his sword on his left hip, “So we are to play mating games, then? I will partake, then. For at nights end, I will have my Queen and we will return to your home together. I seek not an enemy, Atra’Lamia. Only a womb…” he says, and the look in his eyes is priceless, if she can read it, filled with a menacing desire and insane thoughts, and a focus that is perhaps the most frightening of all, if Atra’Lamia is one to scare easily, though Cyan doubts that. As he draws the long sword with his right hand, his left hand takes hold of the sheathe and he removes it from beneath his belt, and holds it with the tip facing Atra. He stands there for a moment, holding the sheathe out towards her rather than his sword, allowing her time to make her own judgments of what he is doing as he stands there. After the moment passes, he looks up to her once more, and his mouth opens to speak, “Come down from your mount, my dear. Lest I knock you from it and slay the beast, dearest lover to be.” he says, his words of love and affection are filled with sarcasm and desire, but also a sense of hatred as well.

She struck first, and that was all he had been waiting for; true, he had grabbed her ass, but she did not warn him not to, so in his eyes her attack is unprovoked. He lets his smile fade, as a strange, murky substance begins to take shape and flow out of the darkness from within the sheathe, but instead of dripping to the ground, the seemingly liquid darkness flows out and remains in a cylindrical shape, continuing to grow in length until it is at last fifty-four inches long. The sheathe itself is dull, and without a sharp point, not even adorned with any ceremonial carvings, only a fairly large round ball at the end. With a simple lift of his arm and a twist of his wrist he releases his grip on the sheathe itself, moving his hand down to take hold of the newly formed, ebony handle, where he then takes hold. Thus it came to be that he held a spear in his left hand, ready to be thrown if he only moved his arm into place, and a long sword in his right. Biceps, and triceps tighten in turn as he brings his arm up and back, and as his arm snaps forward, the muscles and tendons in his wrist tighten at the perfect moment and he releases his grip on the handle, sending the spear forth, speeding towards the form of Atra’Lamia.

Should the spear hit where it is aimed, it will slam into Atra’Lamia’s chest with enough force to knock her from her mount, and perhaps break a few ribs in the process. Alas, her pleasure in pain is going to be tested; how will she react when the pain inflicted is her own, and not another's? This is what he wants to see, and thus he waits, standing there with sword in hand and without a shirt in the rain as the clouds begin to roll over and block the moon out once more, as the storm again begins to rage on in it’s fury.

[The End of All Light.]

Um about you post.

1. She isn't wearing amour.
2. If her hopped back, her mount was biting towards his bite, so he just backed into the bite?
3. He didn't dodge her attack before preparing his; she had lashed out prior to him withdrawing his sword or using his sheath for whatever purpose.


Just giving you the heads up with the 3 obvious discrepancies in your post hun.

I will try and post but will have to work around these 3 things otherwise I will post tomorrow and give you time to look this over.

[The End of All Light.]

[align=justify:8fc261fef1]Even the glistening mantle of her nightmare was slick with rain and bloody residue, massive body shifting, its weight rising to ripple every tendon tensing into the maneuver. For as Cyan moved forwards another bite was administered, though those one far more decisive and less prone to feral clumsiness.  Her scimitar flow had somehow been diverted would be by sheer luck? No… his speed wouldn’t have been quite quick enough regardless of his skill which was obviously far less than hers. It was obvious in his stance and method of movement; a warrior would have gone for his sword and not leapt away to throw a spear? His ability to see in the dark had nothing to do with the swiftness of her speed, for darkness has nothing to do with motion and movement, it is only an element that any fool could use. Her attack had been prompted and had been provoked simply by the fact, Atra hates to be touched, that wasn’t a irk for the moment, in fact it had existed right throughout her existence. There was another fact to determine that he couldn’t have noticed her body movement into her attack was because the whole time, he had been focused on her face; therefore not her body.

If he was focused on her face, and any signs of body language… there was no signs of body language for him to detect her intention of action, because her motion was fluid, instant and not thought about to exhibit expression or decision to act on thought. To have any signs of movement, one must have to ignite the thought into reality- Atra was too unpredictable to read, and she never thought… only acted. There was a difference in method and activation. The fact, he was at her right, right hand extended to her as blade did a back action slash/swipe against his mid arm, a blow to easily disengage it from his persona, with a cleaving motion. Her mount coming from his left, around to lunge his back biting not to mention pushing against him from the flanks as he had leaned forwards and profaned her body with his touch. Scimitar being drawn from her left and hammered down upon that section of his right arm; all in the same flow of action all the while him staring at her face. The attack alone wouldn’t permit Cyan to simply be able to step away, at all to the left… and to follow through with his intention to the right would have stepped straight into the brunt of her attack and instead of running the risk of a single limb… would run the risk of being totally decapitated. If he stepped to the left he would run the risk of being impaled in the spikes of her mounts Chamfron or the spikes jutting out from its armor to the flanks.

Macabre smirk rolling into that of a sadistic smile, nigrescent gyrating eyes not moving from his eyes, though her perceptions wound around him in oracular weavings; to discern his actions physically and not mentally... for a well trained mind can easily place false thoughts to be extracted while those hidden lashed out into play. The next move had been his to make, and one would think he'd make it wisely. Cyan would have to be extremely precise, extremely intellectual and wise in choice of tactic when in compliance with her, for any slip and misjudgment of his error would show him for anything but worthy to be called an opponent, he was already losing her attention fast; though not fast enough to spare his life.  Atra wouldn’t retort to his comments, she was done with what little speaking she had already returned. It seemed that was the way of too many, they talked too much and did little to prove the merit of their words… [/align:8fc261fef1]


[align=center]IN ADDITION (from my post earlier today)[/align]

[align=justify:8fc261fef1] Miraculously Cyan had managed to simply step out of an attack from both left and right, leapt backwards, produced a spear and now hurled it towards Atra. The events had somewhat happened quick, but not quick enough… in all comparison he moved rather sluggishly languid. He couldn’t compare his speed to that of hers or even that of Malice’s- he was a creature who held no significant power in Naethyrn, here he was a nobody... could not even be a formidable enemy even if the will and words were there to instigate attention... he had just lost hers with infantile gestures, words and this enervated attack? Easily his motion and agenda was easily read simply by the fact he had already, taking time to twist his sheath, taking hold of the ebony handle, pulling arm back and taking time so that the tendon’s in his arms stood out before throwing… any fathomable warrior would have already had his aim targeted without hesitation unlike what his own stamina had produced. Why did little boys always play with their flaccid little sticks? Of all the weapons chosen, taking particular care to notice the gathering storm, rain and elements already in conflictive prose about their forms… why use a weapon that could easily be taken of its mark simply by nature’s intent? A spear, of all things, how endearing and obviously making allowances for inadequacies elsewhere below the belt, attempting to compensating for smaller and lesser interesting of things… so fickle.

Precision and throw had been weak, barely even making its target only to be plucked from the air by her accelerated and prompt speed of left hand, unfastening from leather reigns only to meet it by mid-staff, fingers clenching around the ebony substance only to snap it like a feeble little twig in the hands of a playful child. His ‘force’ nothing but the breeze bidding the leaves in gentle caress, barely even propelling Atra’s elbow and arm backwards into the snatch before crumbling it into non-existence just as easily as she could pluck his pathetic little flame of life, snuff it into the oblivion of a nightmare that even he would cringe at… but he wasn’t even worth her time, nor worthy of an opponent and certainly not that of a mate; and she would have rather eviscerated her own womb, fed it to the wolves before allowing a cretin to pollinate it with his weak seed. There were far more worthy cohorts to be had, real men, not docile entities attempting to proclaim themselves as worthy in another Lords realm and territory. Here, he would have not power and the only reason he could manipulate his infantile darkness was because she permitted it so.

The darkness here was not of his accustomed element, it was filtered and diluted warped essence of the void, chaos warping everything about them to constantly change for Naethyrn only existed because she commanded it to be. So, if Atra wanted, she could pick to pieces the very fabrics of this world and send it hurling into the vacuum of the void, or better yet allow her quintessence and epitome to truly blossom and suck everything in existence here deep into the black hole of nothingness, ceasing to exist. Cyan’s existence here was on borrowed time, what a shame he was too pompous to actually recognize what he was standing upon and what he felt upon his skin as rain… was nothing but an illusion cast from the psyche of whom they thought was Atra. What a pity none of them really knew her to query. From behind those mirrors of darkness, another burning luminosity arose, asphodel and crushed rubies… mocking laughter as the remnants of his broke trinket fell to the mud at her mounts feet. Left hand moving back to ensnare reigns while leaning forwards for a moment to look upon him with disgusted condescendence…

 â€You are not worthy any further of my time boy… CHILD! I have tainted my presence long enough with your wretched ranting and insane drivel to the point you have served your purpose of a seconds entertainment.” Right hand swiftly placing scimitar to scabbard then moving over to cup her left in a jovial round of applause ”The entertainment was feasible however the service was deplorable… and to your offer of possessing my womb or borrowing it, as you proclaimed… I decline… you see I would have rather had used that broken spear of yours to fuck your mouth through your ass than have to yawn in your face when you were done, would save you the shame I know you already live in…” Grinning fiendishly and not spending another moment to contribute to his insane fetish that he even had what it took to capture her eye, what a shame that part of his prophesy would never come true, seemed like fate was working against him after all. Boot urged to the rump of her mount, jerking reins to the right viciously and not giving Cyan one last glance of recognition, he was nothing in her eyes, not even the mud now being churned by the powerful stride of her mount as it left Cyan with his bare chest in the rain until he was far less than a speck on a bleak horizon… ushering herself back to Mortuus Lacrimae, and to the one whom was her cohort and lover… Malice.[/align:8fc261fef1]


[align=center]

Atra has left, I am done with this role-play. Thank you. Edited twice at 12.07am and 12.10am Aust.

[/align]

[Kain]

This topic is locked... Cyan, Not by Dy's decision or anyones except mine. You have a beef, speak to me via either PM or YIM.