18+ Thy Flesh Consumed

[Kir the Silent]

The civil war has ended and Ulfric Stormcloak is now High King of Skyrim. Skyrim is free, for now. It seems both the Empire and the Thalmor are bidding their time and leave the Nordic homeland alone. But they no doubt will return one day. The Dragon Crisis, as it is now known, has ended thanks to the Dragonborn. Many of the dragons are dead but a scarce few remain and every so often one can hear news of an attack. As the Dragonborn has retired to High Hrothgar, many dragon slayer groups have been formed to try their hands at earning their own glory and gold. But for the most part, Skyrim is at peace.

However…a shadow is starting to descend over the land. Strange rumors of death and disease coming from isolated places in the area around Riften. Whole farms burnt down, people catching an unknown disease, or just vanishing from their homes with nothing else missing. The guards of Riften have recently been acting strange as well, making people pay fines to enter or just turning them away from the gates even if they have the coin. Many of these events started after reports of a mysterious figure in a hooded robe blacker than night and adorned with red runes was sighted in the Rift. There was only one person ever to see under the figure’s hood and saw only a black mask with no features. Like a face with no eyes, mouth, hair, or nose. Guards and Stormcloak soldiers turned up nothing when they searched to bring in the figure for questioning. Many of the searchers were never seen again…

However there was another person searching, a bosmer in strange clothing, who seemed determined to find the black robbed figure. When questioned by the guards why he simply said, “Dark things are stirring in the shadows and this…being is the source. And where there are shadows I will bring the light. Greed and Pride…is sinful…and we all pay for it.” The man’s words weren’t entirely understood and he vanished from his cell a few minutes later.

Now Shor’s Stone has been seemingly abandoned. Every man, woman, child, miner, and guard has vanished without a trace. The only clue is written in blood on the local blacksmith’s house;Until Our Flesh Is Consumed. The people of the Rift have grown even more frightened. An entire village hasn't been affected by the events until now. One can only wonder…what does this series of ill omens mean...?

Cast
Kir the Silent as: Kir Naylik/The Dark Wanderer
H'sikar as: H'sikar
Zhengi as: Lazarus
Therin as: Therin Guerre
Lucius Caecilius lucundus as: Jalvean
MabFaerie as: Katelle Viljorn
Andre Marek as: Andre Marek

 

[Kir the Silent]

Prologue: The Book

The world of Nirn, an amazing and vibrant place, is filled with legends; legends of men and women, wars and items of power, mortals and gods, good…and evil. Throughout the ages the stories have been passed down since the first storyteller spun a tale. But there is one tale…that the gods themselves decided should never be told. So, using their divine powers, they erased every shred of evidence related to this dark secret. That it would never again be known by those on Nirn. Though they even removed it from the memories of the mortals, darkness like that…is not easily destroyed.

The Divines sealed away the knowledge and secrets of the darkness in a book; a simple, black leather book. Shadows, darkness, and all manner of evil things were drawn to this accursed text. It radiated evil, seemingly possessing a will of its own. They knew this text must never fall into the hands of those below the heavens with darkness in their hearts. Hiding it in the land called Tamriel, where they hoped it would never be discovered. But as we all know…nothing every goes as planned…

For ages upon ages the book, from its prison, watched; watching empires rise and fall, wars rage, and good triumph. Eventually, despite the efforts of the Divines, the book was found…but hope was not yet lost as it was discovered by those with pure hearts. They realized what the book truly was and decided to try and destroy it, but when this failed they dedicated their lives to hide it. Especially from those that would unleash its dark power.

As the generations passed only one family remained to guard this terrible secret. They moved to the frozen land of Skyrim, to Falkreath, the most remote place they could think of. But the book’s dark call would not be silenced. That was when the Dark Stranger first appeared. The entire family was slaughtered, children and all. Only one escaped the massacre…now only he was left to protect a secret as old as Nirn and hunting the one who would unleash unholy terror upon the world if not stopped.

The gods above watched with apprehension, not able to directly interfere, hoping that this one man and those who rallied to him would be able to halt the flood of darkness before it consumed the world. Will they succeed against an enemy like no other, beyond the comprehension of mortals? Or is Tamriel and all of Nirn doomed to be consumed by the utter evil slowly emerging?

 

[Kir the Silent]

Chapter One: Vanish

The village of Shor’s Stone was as silent as the grave. Everyone, animals included, had seemingly vanished at the same time with no explanation why. The embers of the blacksmith’s forge still warm, tables still set with food, and a child’s doll left face down in the dirt. On a wall, written in blood, was the only clue. Even though the place seemed to have no signs of battle or struggle, it felt like despair hung over this place. The air had a slight metallic smell, like blood. But there was none to be found. The entire was a bit…too clean.

A shadow fell over the doll laying abandoned in the middle of the small village. Kir tilted his head and crouched down. He reached for the doll but hesitated, his fingers barely an inch away. For some reason an ominous feeling had come over him suddenly. He gingerly grabbed the doll and turned it over.

The doll fell to the ground as Kir quickly let go of the disturbing thing. The doll was normal except for two gruesome details. Where the buttons for eyes would normally be, there were two bloody eyes stitched instead. Then…there was the smile. It was now made of teeth with what he could only assume were bits of flesh and gore still clinging to them.

“Dammit, you sick bastard…” Kir ran his hand through his raven black hair. “Even the children...”

He stood slowly, his open robe billowing in the light breeze. He’s taunting me, he thought to himself. Kir knew there was something more going on here though. Hopefully he could find some clue; this was the best lead he had gotten in years. However, one thing didn't make sense. He has never moved so openly before. What had changed that he would allow his actions to become so public? Kir bit his thumbnail, as he often did when deep in thought, and debated with himself on what to do next. The sun would set in a few hours and he had been up for thirteen days, he figured it was about time he got some rest; at least a few hours’ worth. He decided he would look around a bit more and then call it a night. He looked to the mine, its dark entrance looking particularly sinister. He would have to remember to check that in the morning.

His stomach rumbled softly and he sighed at that. He didn't have much left, even polishing off the last of the Stros M’kia Rum a few days back. He looked down at the disturbing doll and flipped it over onto its face. Sighing once again he said, “I could really use a drink…”

 

[Zander Feredon]

No music played in The Bee and the Barb located in Riften, and indeed there was very little sound except for the discreet murmurs of the disappearances that had taken place as of late, and the light yet noticeable pad of the barmaids feet upon the wood. If anyone were less otherwise occupied, the sight of the Argonian entering the Inn wearing nothing but ragged furs may have aroused suspicion. As it were the Argonian remained unnoticed and took a seat at the furthermost table from the bar, and ordered an entire bottle of Firebrand Wine for himself. ''Will that be all sir?'' She asked quietly, the fear showing upon her delicate features.

''Yes, but if i may ask, what has someone as beautiful as you looking so frightened, fear does not suit you dear.'' Said H'sikar in his most charming voice.

''Well sir, have you not heard the rumors? Strange things have been happening around Shor's Stone as of late, some people are even saying the entire town was wiped clean of people. What if Riften is next?'' She replied, a look of utmost terror plastered upon her delicate face.

H'sikar sat quietly for a moment, contemplating the meaning and causes of such ''disappearances''.

''Sir?'' said the barmaid once again, still staring at the Argonian, as if waiting on him to reassure her.

''Listen dear, I'm sure it isn't anything as bad as your thinking.Maybe they just up and changed locations, who are we to guess at the motives of other people and their choices?'' Replied H'sikar cleverly, yet in the back of his mind he was still calculating and running through the scenarios over and over.

''I Suppose your right sir, maybe it isn't anything at all, i'm probably working myself up over nothing.'' The barmaid replied, laughing nervously.

She turned and went to fetch H'sikar his drink, meanwhile, he whispered to himself '' What if she's right, I mean yes I reassured her that it is more than likely just a rumor used to give the average townspeople something meaningful to talk about...but there is always the possibility that its something more...'' He was so deep in thought that he hadn't notice her return with his wine, and sit down across the table from him,until he heard the dull ''Thunk'' of the wine bottle hitting the table.

''Were you saying something sir?'' She asked,watching the Argonian intently.

''Please, don't call me sir, my name is H'sikar, and I was only wondering if i could get a room for the night?''
He replied quickly, perhaps to quickly, because she regarded him with a disdainful look, that contained a hint of suspicion.

''Well, H'sikar, my name is Ashiri Moonscar and as for the room, we have one avaliable, but it isn't in the best shape.'' She said, her suspicious look quickly shifting into a nervous smile.

''I'll take it, I guarantee it cant be worse than my previous living conditions.'' He replied, laughing a little at the joke only he understood.

As the barmaid departed his room for the night, leaving him with yet another two more bottles of the Firebrand he loved so much, he began to lay out his schedule for the next few days. Flipping to an empty page in his logbook he began to write.

''Day 1 : Float around Riften learning all he can about these ''disappearances'' and what could have caused them''
''Day 2: gather as many supplies as possible with my limited funds and see if i cannot construct a time frame for the disappearances, and any other ominous signs that may have occured''
''Day 3:Set out for Shor's Stone and see what clues I can find there, possibly giving me the whereabouts of the victims.''

He closed his book and propped himself up in the bed, taking a long draw from his bottle, '' I hope we are looking to far into this Ashiri, for everyone's sake.'' He said to himself, and then he fell into a drunken slumber.

 

[TheShadedOne]

Zah'Nivani awoke with a pleased sigh. She was in a bed, in the city of Riften, with a male laying beside her. It went without saying, that both of them were naked, and the furs were crumpled at the foot of the bed. The white furred Khajiit rolled onto the Nord, straddling him. Unfortunately for her, the man was still spent from their last coupling, much to her disappointment. Growling in annoyance, the white furred vampiress leaned forward, opening her mouth so that the tips of her long fangs rested against the mans' throat. 'It would be so easy' she thought, almost giddy with her power over the heavily muscled Nord.

Instead, she swung her other leg off of him, onto the wooden floor of the bed. Her tail twitched as she searched for her dress, which had been thrown across the room sometime last night. She ghosted across the room, picking up her belt and ax, which were thrown carelessly on the floor near the door. Her dress was flung over the table, and the Khajiit sighed. straightening the dress, and slipping into it. Standing in front of the floor length mirror, she examined her body that was visible. She scowled at several spots of blood between her breasts, wetted a cloth, scrubbing vigorously the fur until she'd eradicated the dark brown spots of dried blood.

As she moved to the door, buckling her belt, she glanced back and admired her handiwork. Puncture marks on his chest, arms, and inner thighs. He wouldn't turn, she hadn't shared any of her blood with him, plus, if every man, or woman for that matter, turned when she bit them, thousands of people across Tamriel would be vampires. That wasn't acceptable. Coming down the stairs, she took in the patrons of the inn. Those that weren't completely wasted, kept glancing at the door every time someone entered, almost as if they expected their death to storm in, and slaughter the lot of them. 'Now there's an idea' she thought dryly, as most of the men in the room turned to stare at her.

Or more specifically, her breasts. Giving the closest man a coy smile, she moved to a corner seat, and took a seat, noticing a rather unpleasant scent as she did so. "Argonian..." she growled softly, looking up to see said Argonian clad in furs, and snoring at his table. Rolling her eyes, which, despite her vampirism, were still a sapphire blue. It helped allay any suspicions that the mortals might have, although her dress was more than a little suspicious. Usually, one did not see Khajiit nobility running around frozen wastelands. She'd come to Skyrim to have a little fun before moving on...but with the tension in Riften, a city known for it's less than sterling reputation, Zah'Nivani found herself bored. People weren't any fun in bed if they were too tense and worried.

As much as she pretended to not care, the rumors of what had happened in Shor's Stone, every man, woman and child, just vanishing, had the Khajiit a little concerned as well. If her food source started disappearing, it would mean trouble for her, as well. "Ma'am? Can I get you anything?" The serving girl. Young, good looking, and painfully, oblivious to Zah'Nivani's nature. Making a point of licking her lips, she made eye contact and smiled. "Steak, and make it bloody, will you?" The girl hesitated, taking in the snow white fur of the woman, before nodding, smiling uncertainly and leaving for the kitchens. Now the vampiress had her second victim.

 

[The Phantom]

There was a man pacing up and down Mistveil Keep, a troubled look played across his stressful, ageing face. This man was the newly appointed Inspector of the Guard, although he had only been in charge in Riften for a few months he had already changed things for crime in the city. He had been working with the Vigilante, Mjoll the Lioness, to help clean up the streets and wipe out organised crime in the area; things were going great, for a time, but recently he had run into.... complications.

There was a strange sighting of a "Black Robed Figure" in the area and soon after many ominous things happened. Reports of death and disease in isolated places, unknown to all priests and holiness. Soon after a Bosmer was found searching for the mysterious figure, now known as the "Dark Stranger". Intrigued, the Inspector sent a few Guards to bring the man in for questioning. He came with seemingly no resistance and was placed in a cell in the prison for the time being.

The Inspector walked to the cell, unlocked it and entered.
"Evening sir. My name is Jalvean Javert and I am the Inspector of the Guards here. I need to ask you a few questions. We would like to know everything you know about these... Happenings and Dark Stranger, if you please. And why you are investigating." The Bosmer gave a cryptic response

"Dark things are stirring in the shadows and this…being is the source. And where there are shadows I will bring the light. Greed and Pride…is sinful…and we all pay for it." Jalvean pondered what he meant for a moment and after a long period of silence; thanked him for his help, exited the cell and locked it behind him. When he returned the Bosmer was gone without a trace.

Not too long later Mjoll fell ill with this mystery disease and was unable to continue her work, infuriating Jalvean. Not necessarily because he liked her (quite the opposite) but because she was playing a vital role in their work against crime. This meant that he had to take matters into his own hands and began his own, private investigation.

Jalvean, a month later after learning absolutely nothing and coming no closer to the source of allthe commotion, thought that the local tavern would be the next best place to search. As he made his way down to the inn, he carried himself with such cold confidence that nearly all who saw him looked at him with distain. He entered the Bee and Barb, taking in the atmosphere with disgust "Oh how the dregs of society flock to the local tavern" he thought.

Now that he was in the inn, he began to look around for anythings or anyone suspicious. However he was interrupted when the serving girl walked up to him and asked him if he wanted anything. Much to Jalvean's annoyance. He immediately dismissed the girl with a mild tone of anger to his voice, before noticing two people who seemed to stand out. One was an Argonian, unconscious with his face flat down on a table but something about him brought him to Jalvean's attention. The other was standing close by; a Khajiit with white fur, she seemed to carry herself with some form of un-earthly seductiveness which Jalvean seemed to recognise. However he could not quite place what she was "Illusory Mage? Daedra Worshipper? Vampire, Perhaps?" Nevertheless he approached the two.

When he was standing with them; he smacked the Argonian to wake him and then began to stand at-ease, with a dead seriousness to his voice, he spoke

"Good evening to you both! I am Jalvean Javert, Inspector of the Guard of Riften and if you two wouldn't mind, I would like to take you both to the Keep for questioning. Do not fear, you are not in trouble... Yet."

 

[Zander Feredon]

A searing pain across his right cheek awoke H'sikar with a start. As he looked around groggily, he noticed a man standing over him in what he regarded as a pompous and self serving manner, and a rather attractive Khajiit. Making a mental note to kill the man and get to ''know'' the Khajiit better later on, he stood up, mere inches from the stranger, making sure the man could see directly into his white hot eyes.''Might want to watch what your doing boy, you may lose that hand next time.'' Said H'sikar, smiling to himself. ''And as for your questions, ill answer them all, but we do it my way,i have a room upstairs. Feel free to join me and i'll tell you anything you want to know.'' H'sikar turned tail and motioned for the others to follow him up to his room, Not forgetting to pick up his last bottle of Firebrand Wine before heading upstairs.

 

[Therin]

Therin sat on the pew in the Benevolence of Mara, his head bowed and his eyes closed. It was nice to be off the road and in the relative safety of a city. Not that he would ever classify Riften as safe, even in the best of times the city had a reputation for corruption and robbery, and this was not the best of times for Riften. People were on edge over these rumors, and tempers were quick to flare. If there was ever a time and place for Mara’s love and mercy, it was here and now.

However, Therin still dwelled on his troubled dreams the night before. The Eight Divines didn’t touch this world like the Daedra did, and it was much harder to say—for certain—when they contact their loyal followers. Could his dreams last night be a message from the blessed Mara? They felt so different from any dreams he had before. They were vivid and evoked strong emotions of despair and hatred. These were not emotions that were connected to Mara, but perhaps she sent them as a warning. Or perhaps his mind was just playing tricks on him. His imagination could have augmented the rumors he had been hearing into nothing more than a nightmare. Even if the dream wasn’t real, the rumors were, and they still concerned Therin. He continued to meditate in front of the statue of Mara, hoping he could divine some answers, or be answered by the Divine.

His thoughts were interrupted by the slamming of the front door. He turned in time to see a Nord woman enter with a man leaning on her for support. After clearing the threshold the man’s legs crumpled and both collapsed to the floor.

“Please help him,” the Nord woman pleaded from the floor.

“Briehl,” Therin shouted to young Nord in the other room. He was the only other person in the temple until now, and Therin knew he would need him. He came rushing out of the room where he was studying and Therin motioned for him to come over. “Help me carry this man to a bed.”

Therin and Briehl picked the tall Nord up and half carried, half dragged him to a nearby bed. The woman followed on their heels, not letting her companion out of her sight.

“He’s been sick for a few days,” she explained as they gently laid the unconsciousness Nord on the bed. “Please, you’ve got to heal him.”

Her gaze was directed at Briehl. She assumed, since he was wearing his novice robes while Therin was wearing a green tunic, that he was the healer.

“I’m only an acolyte of Mara,” Briehl confessed. “Therin is the priest.”

“Make him comfortable,” Therin told Briehl and then turned his attention to the woman. “I need some information before I can try. What are his symptoms?”

The woman looked confused. “Why do you need to know that? Just wave your hands around him and heal him!”

Therin raised his hands and tried to placate the woman. It was obvious that it took her a great amount of strength to get the man here in the hopes that he’d be immediately healed, and she was getting upset that it wasn’t happening quick enough.

“Listen…” Therin trailed off, hoping the woman would fill the silence with her name.

“Holga.”

“…Holga,” Therin continued, “healing doesn’t work like that. We don’t just wave our hands around and heal someone.”

“A priest of Stendarr once healed a gash on my leg. All he did was hold his hands over it. You need to do the same thing to my husband!”

“Mending flesh is a relatively simple spell,” Therin explained, trying to remain patient. “It requires only one rune and enough energy to seal the skin.”

“Rune?” Holga asked, confused.

“Briehl, how far into your restoration training are you?” Therin asked the young acolyte, hoping he could explain the process to Holga, freeing Therin to concentrate on the sick man.

“Dinya was going to start my training this week; I don’t know anything about it, yet.”

Therin took a deep breath. The temple normally had two priests on hand. Maramal had gone to the Bee and Barb earlier, mentioning that he wanted to convert its patrons from their sinful ways, and Dinya Balu had left to tend to the Halls of the Dead. It seemed the onus of the situation was falling squarely on Therin, and he wasn’t going to get much help from these two.

“Then I guess you should both listen,” began Therin, splitting his attention between explaining and inspecting the unconscious man before him. “Healers draw runes in the air above their patients—or on the ground around their patients—so they can focus their energy through them and heal a specific injury. There are fifteen runes associated with the Restoration school, five for physical trauma and ten for ailments. Each corresponds with a specific symptom and does no good at healing the others.

“For instance, this rune is used for knitting flesh,” Therin said while using the fingers of his hand to draw a shape in the air that no one could see. When he was finished, he cupped his hands and focused his magicka. As the energy moved through the invisible rune, it started to grow faintly yellow. Within moments, the rune was fully charged with pulsating yellow light and visible to the two Nords watching him in awe. Therin stopped channeling, and the rune dissipated once again. "No one usually sees the rune because the healer cups his hands around it to direct the flow of magicka."

“I had no idea,” the woman exclaimed in awe.

“As I said, there are five runes for physical trauma: one to knit flesh, one to mend bone, one to reduce swelling, one to decrease pain, and one to heal bruises. For more complicated injuries, more than one rune is needed. If a man’s broken bone is sticking out of his leg, then the rune to mend the bone must be drawn before the one to knit flesh, but the magicka must be channeled through them both at once before it will heal.

“Disease is even more complicated than that. There are ten runes, each for a separate symptom, and each rune must be drawn in the order that the symptom presents itself within the disease. For example, rockjoint creates headaches, then attacks the muscles, and—if left untreated—fuses the bones together, hence the name. The three corresponding runes must be drawn in that order; if one is missing, or an extra one added, or if they are out of order, the spell will not work.

“So, it is very important, Holga. What were your husband’s symptoms, and when did they first appear?”

Therin could see the impatience on her face change to concern and worry as she tried to remember her husband’s sickness during the last few days. Therin waited patiently as she remembered and listened carefully when she began talking.

“At first he started coughing, a loud racking cough. He lost his strength shortly after, and then complained about a shooting pain in his stomach. The next day he said he felt nauseous and last night he began throwing up blood. This morning I could barely rouse him, so I strapped him to our horse and came to Riften.”

“You’re not from Riften?” Therin asked.

“No, we own a cabin near Autumnshade Clearing, about halfway between Riften and Shor’s Stone.”
Therin exchanged a look with Briehl. They had both heard of the rumors of Shor’s Stone and Therin didn’t have much hope in healing this man.

Holga must have been able to read the look on his face as she asked, “What are his chances?”

Therin did the quick calculation in his head. “Assuming you saw all of his symptoms, and none of them were from another ailment, there are one hundred and twenty different combinations. But you’ve given your husband the best shot he has.”

​

* * *​

A few hours later, Therin sat in front of the statue of Mara and held Holga in his arms as she silently wept. He prayed that Mara’s compassion help the new widow in the days and weeks ahead, and that she remain unaffected from the disease. He also prayed, most fervently, that this disease would not turn into a plague.

 

[TheShadedOne]

"Good evening to you both! I am Jalvean Javert, Inspector of the Guard of Riften and if you two wouldn't mind, I would like to take you both to the Keep for questioning. Do not fear, you are not in trouble... Yet." Zah'Nivani stared at the man. Clearly, he was some figure of authority, which was a joke in Riften, and clearly, he expected obedience, which was another joke. Still , he wasn't too ugly, and the Khajiit vampire was rather bored. Moving forward off of the wall, she flashed him a smile and a wink. "I wouldn't mind being questioned by you, inspector" she drawled, moving to follow him. Before the man could lead them outside, however, the now awake lizard spoke up.

''Might want to watch what your doing boy, you may lose that hand next time.'' The creature said. ''And as for your questions, ill answer them all, but we do it my way,i have a room upstairs. Feel free to join me and i'll tell you anything you want to know.'' With that, the Argonian headed back up the stairs, obviously expecting the pair to follow him. Pouting slightly, the Khajiit vampire sighed theatrically and followed, her soft Argonian skin boots creaking slightly as she climbed the stairs, letting her dress sway enticingly.

 

[Seanu Reaves]

A figure in black. Those were the rumors, yet deep down he knew it wasn't his quarry. It was strange, The Dawnguard thought. What was happening in the Rift, it was something new. Something beyond the simple superstitions, something rare and different, or more of the same but seen with more imagination. His gold eyes showed a flicker of pleasure, the question was: is it undead? His matron would of course bless his work if it was, but Lazarus was still what most would call a man. Like any man he always loved a mystery.

Lazarus chuckled when he realized he could be described as “a figure in black.” He got up from his little corner table in the Silver-Blood Inn, and left a few gold pieces. He flopped his black hat onto his mop of long black hair. Lazarus found himself stroking his small circle goatee of a beard. He ignored the bustling of the city of Markarth, and left the city for the stables. The Stableman brought up the fact he was selling a war hound. Lazarus sighed for he disliked traveling alone, and he did have a decent amount of gold left. Lazarus relented, and soon he had a lull tongued dog following his trotting horse.

“Well, Vigil... Yeah I like that Vigilance is far to long of a name.”

The dog barked happily, and trotted up next to Lazarus and his horse. The wide brimmed Dawnguard smiled at his new companion, and through the dog a piece of venison. Vigil tore into the venison with great relish. And so the strange man proceeded down the road with his newly acquired companion, both unaware of what horrors they would be subject to.

 

[The Phantom]

Jalvean was infuriated by the arrogance of this Argonian "Boy! How dare he call me boy! I am the law and the law is not mocked!" He thought to himself angrily and as the Argonian preceded to his room in the inn his opinion worsened. When the Khajiit began to follow the Argonian up the stairs as well, Jalvean decided to obige in silence, although it was clear he was not happy.

He was also not impressed with the Khajiit who was clearly trying to seduce him. It happened far too often in his line of work for him to be fooled that easily, and so he ignored her for the time being and followed the two upstairs. As he walked up the stairs behind the two dregs he began to put a hand around the hilt of his sword. There was something about these two that caused him to feel wary of them.

Upon entering the room he gestured to the seats "Take a seat, both of you." He said, a false kindness in his voice "I am here to enquire about the strange occurrences here in Riften. I have asked almost everyone else in the city and you two are all that remain to be questioned. I do not recognise you so my first question shall be, what are your names, occupation and place of residence. And secondly I would like to know everything you know about these... Happenings." The Inspector then began to wait for one of them to answer.

 

[Zander Feredon]

Slouching into one of the chairs and taking a long draw from his bottle, H'sikar began to speak.

''Well, my name may be the easiest of these questions to answer, I am H'sikar LightningBlood.''
Staring intently at the commander and gauging his reactions, he took another swig from his bottle.

''Now the next to questions may be a bit more difficult.'' Said H'sikar.

''My place of residence, well its quite obvious that since i invited you to MY room, i assume you would have figured out that this is my residence.'' He said smiling. ''But i suppose i gave your observation skills a bit to much credit.''

H'sikar stood and walked over to his table, fetching a book from within. ''As for my occupation, Your people would call me a ''Shaman''. Oh and heres everything i know on these ''Happenings'' as you called them.'' He said, tossing the flesh bound book to the ''Inspector''. ''Please, try to stick to pages one through five, we wouldn't want you to see anything that may warp your delicate little mind, now would we?'' Said H'sikar as he dropped back into his chair, and as always, taking another swig from his bottle. ''Now its your turn.'' He said staring at the khajiit.

 

[TheShadedOne]

Rolling her eyes at the careless attitude of the Argonian, slouching down in his chair and answering the questions in a tone that was almost insulting. Zah'Nivani remained standing, but she was no longer actively trying to seduce the inspector. It was clear he thought that she was some sort of scum...the dregs of society. That was infuriating, to say the least. Her scarlet dress, which had set her back a few thousand septims at least, was better than most nobility could hope to get their filthy hands on. Her snow white fur was extremely clean, not a spot of dirt on her. Her Argonian skin boots were polished to a shine. Any idiot that couldn't see that didn't deserve a night with her. In fact, she was debating just walking out, without answering any of the mans' questions. She deliberately remained standing, keeping herself on equal footing with the man.

However, she was cultured, and as insulting as the man was, she decided that when, not if she seduced him, she'd punish him for his foolish thinking. Or perhaps she'd just rip him apart and throw the pieces of his body into the canal that flowed through Riften. No one, except maybe the guards would care to look into his disappearance, and if that smelly Argonian was blamed for it, all the better. In the meantime, she decided to answer his questions, for now. "Well, inspector, since you're so interested in my life, I'll answer your questions" she replied, putting sarcastic emphasis on the mans' title. "My name, is Zah'Nivani, my occupation is whatever catches my fancy, and my place of residence, well-" she smiled widely. "- You'd love to know, but that's for me to know, and you to wonder about" she became slightly more serious about the last question. "All I know about that, is thet your people are tense, afraid, of something. Then, I suppose you should be, since whole populations of towns don't generally disappear for no reason." She wasn't trying to impress him with her limited knowledge of the situation, or anything like that.

She was simply answering his questions so she could leave. She had an eternity, but she certainly didn't want to stand around talking with men who fancied themselves important enough to detain her. With an exaggerated sigh, she said crossly, "Now, are you done eyeing me like I'm some cheap street whore, or do you have more pointless questions?" She said coldly, glancing once at the Argonian. She was beginning to grow bored, and she didn't want to have to murder the pair of them in the room. She preferred to kill quietly, in a dark alley, or in someone's bed. A playful bite taken to far, a kiss turned too passionate. Her victims very rarely saw her for what she truly was, until she had every advantage.

 

[Andre Marek]

(OOC: Is This color claimed or can I take it?)


Andre Marek sighed as he strode through Riftens main gate and rubbed his temples. He had a pounding headache at the moment and was in a particularly foul mood today. He remembered now why he didn’t often visit the Rift. Every time he came here he ended up with migraines for at least a few days, today being no different. He had his hood pulled up over his eyes and his mask was in place over the lower half of his face, leaving only his eyes uncovered as he gazed out at Riften with disdain. He hoped that his trip would not be wasted effort. He had heard about the peculiar ‘happenings’ occurring in the area while he was in Whiterun but hadn’t thought anything of it, believing it was simply a job for the Riften guards. It hadn’t been until he heard tell of the strange man associated with the events that he had deemed that the whole mess might be worth his time. The city guard were doing a piss poor job of tracking this dark, hooded man down and as of yet the only thing they had succeeded in was reducing their own ranks. While not exactly the circumstances Marek had been waiting for, it was still an excellent chance for him to offer his service to the beleaguered Jarl of Riften. No one else was getting the job done, so Marek could pretty well charge whatever he wished in exchange for bringing this person in for questioning.

Marek decided however that, for now, the search could wait. He was dead set on finding himself a steaming mug of coffee and a meal and then hopefully get some shut eye so that he would be well rested before evening and his work began. Riften was home to two inns, Healga’s Bunkhouse and the Bee and Barb, the latter of which was far preferable if you wanted a half decent meal and a clean room. The Bunkhouse was a better spot if you only wished not to be disturbed but for now Marek didn’t overly care who saw him in the city. If he ran into any trouble he could easily disappear into the ratway, which he had come to know almost as well as the thieves who called it home. He still had acquaintances in the Thieves guild whom he would undoubtedly end up dealing with during his stay in the city, if for no other reason than to speak with his banker. Marek rolled his neck and decided that the Bee and Barb would suit him fine. Walking up the street and across the bridge over the canal he arrived at the taverns doors and pushed his way inside.


To his great relief the common room was rather quiet and had relatively few patrons occupying the tables. For the most part everybody was nursing their drinks and brooding over their respective fears, and a few others were chatting amongst themselves in hushed tones. Marek could feel the tension in the room as though it were a physical barrier. After a quick glance around the room to make sure no one was going to trouble him, Marek walked over to the bar and ordered his beloved coffee along with a large breakfast. Walking over to a corner table he sat with his back to the wall and proceeded eat his meal while considering where he might begin his search for this mysterious, hooded man.

 

[MabFaerie]

The path to Riften Hold was far more winding, harsh and unforgiving than Katelle had ever imagined it would be. Perhaps it was because she was exhausted and hungry. Perhaps it was because she only had the robes on her back, the cloak fitting loosely around her delicate frame and a bag of very simple, meager supplies. Or perhaps it was because her thoughts were haunted with both the very reason she had fled her home in the first place as well as the very reason she was looking for a particular person in Riften, though both events shared their root cause.

Given the context of her journey, Katelle was amazed that she had managed to make it to the outskirts of Shors Stone, closer to Shors Watchtower, in one piece. She figured she could at least rest in Shors Stone for the night and continue on to Riften in the morning. It wasn't as if she was on a schedule, anyway. As far as she was concerned, she had all the time left in the world.

"Hail, Sister." A guard some ways up the path towards the tower raised an arm to flag her down.
She stopped short a few feet away from him and let him take the extra steps her way, she was tired damn it, and he'd probably eaten more today alone than she'd had all week. He could stand to walk the extra steps.
"You're a long ways from The Temple of Dibella, Sister. What brings a priestess out this way?" He gestured his chin sharply towards her robes, visible beneath the wide slit in the front of her cloak. "Times are troubled, even now. The war may have ended but the darkness in man spreads still. Have the gods sent you?"
"I am afraid not, my friend. I am merely passing through on my way to Riften. I should hope I can find a place to sleep in Shors Stone up ahead?"
"A place to sleep? In Shors Stone? Lotta places to sleep there, Sister. None of em you'd want to, though."
"I am afraid I don't understand, sir. Why wouldn't I want to sleep in Shors Stone?"
"I see the news hasn't traveled very far yet..." The guard then proceeded to go on about the disappearance of the people of Shors Stone, as if they'd simply up and left without a trace.
"As unfortunate as that may be, sir, I have come too far to turn back now. If a ghost town is all that stands between myself and Riften, then a ghost is exactly where I'm headed. Rest assured, I won't dally there. I'll pass through quick as I can and be on my way."
"With all due respect, Sister, you can risk your own neck if you wish, but I shant be surprised if it goes missing on you."
"If... my neck goes missing, wouldn't I... die?"
"Well... yeah, that was kind of the point. I... I was trying to be cryptic and then you gone and ruined it by pointing out the logic--"
"Or lack thereof in this case--"
"Ahem! What I'm trying to say is, if you have to go through Shors Stone, do it quickly and don't talk to strangers!"
"Don't... talk to strangers in... the abandoned ghost town? Got it."
"Sister, please!"
"Alright, as you wish, I'm headed off now." With a smile that bordered on a hint of a smirk, Katelle continued along her path, heading closer and closer to Shors Stone with every weary footfall.

By time she reached Shors Stone, night had nearly fallen. She was hungry, exhausted, cold, hungry, dizzy, hungry, grumpy, hungry and very, unmistakably hungry. Also, she was hungry.
Still, sticking true to her word, she didn't stop to linger, but pushed on through.

Even without the guards warning and her promise, she wouldn't have wanted to spend a moment longer than necessary in that place. Not only were the inhabitants missing, but even the animals seemed to avoid it. There was no sound of nature, no bird calls, no insects buzzing, no skittering game in the nearby land, it was as if every single living creature that had called this place home had abandoned it... or worse. How could a spot of earth be so dark and so black that even the insects fled away from its very ground in fear?

With a chill in her frame that she was certain couldn't just be the night air, Katelle picked up her pace, relaxing only at last a long while later when Riften was within her sight.
"You're a long ways from the Temple of Dibella, Sister." That was the first thing she heard upon entering Riftens walls. A dark and rough voice to her left said these words, drawing her attention to a man she otherwise would have entirely overlooked.
"I've heard that one before." She replied, holding back the words 'today' out of courtesy, and politely smiling at the man, who definitely didn't seem the type to smile back. Ever.
"You looking for something?"
"Someone, actually. But I can't say I'm sure where to begin." Katelle shifted her weight, nervously from foot to foot. It seemed that now, finally in Riften, she didn't actually know how to properly start her search for those that might remember her mother, or even her own person.
The man nodded, knowingly. Perhaps people like her stumbled into Riften all the time? Or perhaps he just made a very good show of knowing very little.
"Try the Bee and Barb. It's the tavern across the bridge there. The meads good and the barkeeps chatty. Maybe she can help you with whoever you're looking for. You got any other questions?" The rough-edged man inquired, although his stance seemed to imply that he wasn't interested in talking much. In fact he seemed more likely to all but dismiss the girl right away.
"Nothing that springs to mind but I'll try the tavern. You have my thanks." She replied, her words seeming to fall on deaf ears as the mans gaze shifted elsewhere, ignoring her entirely.
'No problem, you're welcome Sister. Have a wonderful time in Riften.' She murmured to herself, making her voice sound gruff and raspy, poorly imitating the man, as she walked off. It was silly but it made her feel better.

Making her way into The Bee and Barb, Katelle approached the counter. Instead of taking a seat like a normal, logical human being, she instead hovered awkwardly beside a vacant stool, waiting for the barkeep to look up and notice her.

"You're a long ways from the Temple of Dibella, Sister" The barkeep surmised, appraising the young girl a little too fondly once she'd caught her attention..
"So I've been told." She replied, doing her best to stay polite at the sound of the frustratingly overused phrase.
"What can I do ya for, Sister?" The barkeep asked, seeming to take note of the priestess' anxious, almost flighty persona.
"I'm looking for someone who might have lived here a few years ago. A woman."
"We get a lot of women here, Sister. How long ago are we talking?"
"About 15 years." Kasette replied sheepishly, biting her lip and feeling more foolish by the second.
"What was her name?"
"I... don't have that information."
"Alright, what did she look like?"
"I... can't fully recall, to be honest. Maybe blue eyes? Possibly blonde hair, like mine?"
"So... you're looking for a woman, who's name you don't know, and who's appearance you can't fully recall that might have had blue eyes and maybe lived in Riften 15 years ago. That narrows things down a bit, sure."

When put that way, it was clear that her coming here had to be nothing more than the gods idea of a joke. How would she ever find her mother, or anyone who knew her, for that matter, with so little to go on? This was beginning to feel like something she hadn't thought through.

"Listen, Sister. I can tell you're tired, why don't you take a seat and have a meal, on the house. Maybe after you've eaten and rested, we can wrack your brain for some information on this mystery woman, alright?" The barkeep, for one reason or another, seemed genuinely kind, and obviously wanted to help no matter how abysmal Katelles current situation looked. Katelle had no choice but to accept such small mercies, where possible.
"I... ah, thank you. I'd like that."

Finding a quiet seat at a table near the far end of the tavern, closest to a window, Katelle sat, awaiting her food and pouring over her old memories, trying to find something, anything, that would help her now.

 

[Kir the Silent]

Entering the cesspool of corruption and weakness, the Wanderer felt nothing but disgust. These creatures…are living in filth and opulence. They enjoy their meager existence acting as if they deserve to be alive. Their every breath was offensive to the Wanderer. Riften…that was what these worms called this place. The Wanderer didn’t care. It was just another place that deserved to wiped from the face of this pitiful world. He walked down the streets; everyone had quickly gone indoors after he had entered the gates. The skeletal remains of the gate guards lay just outside the city.

The air in Riften seemed to grow colder and the sky darker as he made his way towards his destination. The temple of Mara was yet another abomination in the Wanderer’s ‘eyes.’ He passed the small gardens, the flowers wilting as he moved by, and made his way up the stairs to the doors. He held up his hand, covered completely in filthy bandages, and the doors creaked open. There were only three dustlings in the darkened room, which only seemed to darken even more as he entered.

“Are all welcome…in the house of Mara…priest...?” The Wanderer’s voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once, yelling and whispering at the same time. The Wanderer’s black robe swirled around him despite the fact there was no wind. His ‘face’ hidden in the shadow of his hood as he walked down the aisle, candles extinguishing as he passed, towards the grieving widow.

She had moved away from the two priests, tears in her eyes as she whispered in utter fear. “It-It’s you…you killed my husband…Mara, protect me…”

The Dark Wanderer held his hands open towards the woman, as if beckoning her forward for a gentle embrace. As if they were two old friends who hadn’t seen each other in years. Against her will she was moving closer and closer. She finally reached the blacked robe being who then embraced her and whispered in her ear, yet it echoed to all in the temple. “Ohhhhh…poor dustling…I freed him…of the bonds of flesh…”

As Holga whimpered in his grimy, bandaged arms her skin started to turn very pale. Her hair started to grey, her skin becoming gaunt and shriveled, and skin started to turn to dust. He moved his featureless face close to her ear. “I am the only god…death…my servant…”

“Now I release you…from this pathetic existence…as…” The light from her eyes slowly faded as her face was filled with horror very few would every experience. “Thy flesh is consumed…”

Holga’s skin completely became dust, her skeleton dropping to the floor and crumbling away as well. The Dark Wanderer laughed; a dark and sinister sound that was without pity. A cold breeze blew in from the open doors as he turned his shadowed form to the priests. He stood taller as if her death had strengthened him.

“You pitiable dustlings…in this house of a false god…” The Dark Wanderer sounded as if speaking with many voices. “If this…Mara…indeed is a god…would she have not saved the widow and her husband…? Would she stand idly by while her temple is desecrated and her loyal priests slain..?”

Sinister laughter once again sounded from everywhere and nowhere as the Dark Wanderer raised his bandaged covered hands. Holding them out at his sides, fire suddenly erupted along the walls of the temple. He then turned his unholy gaze to the statue of Mara and with a simple clenching of his fist, made the statue explode into small splinters. “Behold true power…the power…of the one, true god…bow before me you pathetic dustlings...”

 

[Therin]

Therin stood in the priests' quarters fastening his armor on his body. Holga had mentioned that she left her horse tied to a tree outside of Riften before smuggling her husband into the city through the ratways. She had assumed--and correctly so--that the gate guards would never let a man as sick as her husband into the city for fear of spreading the disease. Therin had offered to retrieve her horse and bring it to the stables.

He was tightening the scabbard to his greaves when he heard a sinister voice. It sounded like the speaker was right next to him even though he was the only one in the room. Confused, disturbed, and a little fearful, Therin eased his sword out of its scabbard before slowly opening the door to the great room. Despite his training, the macabre tableau before him chilled him to his marrow.

A man cloaked in unearthly darkness stood before the statue of Mara, at his feet lay a pile of clothes that Therin vaguely recognized as Holga's. Standing in front of the monstrosity, Maramal--recently returned from the Bee and Barb--and Briehl cowered before the being. It spoke in a taunting voice, rhetorically asking why Mara would allow harm to her temple and followers if she were such a powerful god. Therin gripped the hilt of his sword tighter and was about to confront the intruder, but all of a sudden the walls of the temple erupted in a gout of hellish flame. The sudden, intense heat so close to Therin made him instinctually retreat further inside the room. A loud crack, like a massive tree splitting in the dead of winter, came from the great room, followed by a resounding crash. Steeling his resolve, Therin pushed forward past the burning walls and out into the great room.

He arrived just in time to see the thing in the black cloak reach its arms out to the two men before it. Therin shouted out to the being, trying to distract it from inflicting harm on his friends, but his voice was drowned by the tortured screams of the priests. Within an instant, the two men were reduced to ashes and Therin was powerless to stop it.

As their skeletons continued to disintegrate, the hood of the black cloak slowly turned to look in Therin's direction. Therin could see nothing of the attacker's visage, either by a trick of the shadows or a lack of corporeal form. Therin didn't let his fear stop him as he charged at the demon before him, sword raised for a devastating blow.

"Be gone from Mara's presence, demon!"

Before he reached his opponent, however, the thing's arm raised in his direction and Therin was assaulted by a wave of energy that knocked him against the burning wall, where he then crumpled to the floor.

Laying prone, his body screaming in pain from the collision and heat, Therin reached out and pawed at the floor in front of him. He tried to get up, but only collapsed on the floor again, seemingly scrabbling for purchase on the wooden boards. A dark and sinister laughter erupted in his ears, causing his flesh to break out in horripilation.

"Perhaps you can answer my question," the demon spoke to Therin, its tone sounding like a cat playing with a captured mouse. "If your god--Mara--" it spat the name with disgust "is so powerful, then why is she letting me kill you?"

Therin reached beside him, his hand spasming on the ground. The monster extended its bandaged hands in front of its body and Therin felt a force he had never felt before. It felt like his soul was being ripped from his body; pain lashed at every part of him, giving no quarter of respite. Therin felt like he was being ripped apart, like it did to the others, and knew it was only a matter of time before it happened to him. With the last of his physical energy, Therin reached behind him and drew the final sigil on the floor. With a quick mental prayer to Mara to lend him her strength, Therin began channeling his magicka into the four runes he had drawn around him and a yellow circle appeared enveloping him.

The creature before him hissed in displeasure, sounding like a hive of bees in Therin's skull. Therin continued channeling his magicka into the circle of protection around him.

"You only delay your demise," the demon taunted, its initial frustration disappearing in its voice.

Therin could feel the truth in its words. The soul-ripping force he had felt before was still there, only subdued by the circle of protection. But, with every passing moment, the force was growing stronger, breaking through the barrier Therin had set up. Therin used this small respite to regain his footing. He was about to make one last, foolhardy lunge towards his attacker--most likely dying well before reaching it--when an overhead beam, weakened by the fire, crashed to the floor between Therin and demon.

The force of the beam hitting the floor flung Therin's weak body into the priests' quarters from whence he came. The demon, too, seemed surprised by its falling, as Therin didn't feel the attack on his soul any longer. Hoping that the demon's power--like all magic--was line of sight, Therin kicked the door closed giving himself a chance to escape.

Coughing through the acrid smoke of the burning temple, Therin grabbed his bundle of belongings and tossed them at the window with his deminishing strength. The momentum of the haversack was enough to shatter the window and break the casings that held it. Stumbling towards fresh air, Therin leaned against the sill and gasped. With the last of his strength, Therin stood on his tiptoes and leaned out the window, allowing the weight of his armor to capsize his body and fall gracelessly to the ground outside. Spent, both physically and magically, Therin lost consciousness.

 

[The Phantom]

Jalvean was not amused by the duo's responses and was downright infuriated with the Argonian. How could they go as far as to disrespect the only one in the room who had the power to lock them up? He would see justice done to them, insulting a lawman was still a crime worthy of at least a fine or a day or two in prison. The Khajiit seemed to have adopted some sweet, sarcastic tone, obviously less than pleased at the Inspector's clear disinterest in her. They needed to be taught the meaning of respect!

Standing upright and at ease, a look of distain on his face he began to scold the two of them "Do you two have any respect?! I am Inspector of Riften! I have full authority over the Guards of Riften and can arrest you in a heartbeat. You two need to learn the meaning of the law. Oh and as for you" He turned to Zah'Nivani "Your place of residence is for me to know! I am, for one thing doing my job inspecting, and secondly-"

However at that moment a Guard burst in the room with a panicked expression on his face. The an began o regain his breath before speaking "Sir... You need to go outside.. Immediately. Things.. are happening. The sky is dark, fires are spreading and all nature and holiness seems to have just... Died. We saw... A.. A man go into the Temple. He was wearing a dark robe, long drawn over his face."
"Is this the man we are looking for?"
"I believe so.... Sir!"
"Well then. I shall head to the temple immediately!" Jalvean turned to Zah'Nivani and H'sikar "You two areexcused. Do not, cross me again or we will have trouble! Understood? Good." As Jalvean began to walk away he quickly shouted to the Guard "OH AND GET THOSE FIRES OUT!"

Proceeding quickly towards the Temple of Mara he swung the doors of the inn wide open but paused immediately after what he saw... And felt. The air was un-earthly cold and shivers were sent down his spine. But not because of the cold. The sky was dark and clouds were swirling overhead like a whirlpool in the sea. All over Riften the wildlife seemed to have just wilted and died. Fires were raging on buildings and even the marketplace was ablaze in a torrent of inferno. However the worst thing of all to behold. The Temple of Mara. It seemed.. Wrong somehow, it walls were black as the void and an eery darkness seemed to be seeping through the air around it.

As Jalvean began to approach the Temple he pulled his sword from it's sheath tentatively. Once at the door frame he felt a strange chill fly past and; peering into the temple, he noticed that it seemed to be unnaturally dark and that there were two figures in the hall. One he could tell by the robes, was obviously a priest of Mara and the other.... Jalvean shuddered as he saw the Black Robed Figure with his back turned to him and could tell this was the man he had been hunting, whether or not he was responsible for all this also seemed an obvious question. Beside the two lay a skeleton, the smell of death still lingering as Jalvean turned and signalled to the Guards to stay back and assist the citizens.

He entered just in time to see the Priest flung wide and the other being seemingly weakened. Ignoring the deathly flame that clung to the walls, Jalvean slowly approached the figure so as not to gain it's attention. Drawing closer and closer until he was barely inches from it, he raised his sword and yelled "Julianos take you, vile scum!" and impaled the Dark Wanderer through the heart! Pushing the sword in further; he pulled it up to cause more harm, before turning around at the nearest passerby he saw, and ordered unintentionally harshly "Go around to the back of the outside of the Temple! The Priest needs a healer! Bring help!"

Jalvean turned back to the figure of whom his sword was currently protruding through and mocked him one last time "I don't know what un-holy spirit you are. But you are in a holy place! What chance do you stand now in a Temple of Mara facing an agent of Julianos?!" Upon the last word he drew an Amulet of Julianos pinned to his uniform and silently prayed for the strength to defeat this demon!

 

[Zander Feredon]

Something about fires, and a temple being set ablaze,and a dark hooded figure? That is what the guards had said to the inspector. H'sikar walked over to his window, to see for himself what kind of havoc was being wreaked upon the city. What he saw didn't really bother him, flames, burning buildings, he was used to all of this and more. Yet the source of the fire came from within the temple itself, and that was enough to make H'sikar curious.

"Well then, i think ill have a closer look'' He said regarding the khajiit with nothing more than a glance. Walking toward the far end of the room he took a running leap out of his window, and landed instinctively on all fours.
Looking around the town, it seemed that the temple was the only place under attack, for now at least. Hearing the crashing of more glass, H'sikar turned his head just in time to see a silhouette fall from a window and land flat on his face. ''Well today just isn't your lucky day is it lad?'' he said to himself, as he strode at a leisurely pace toward the body.

Noticing it was a priest, he bent over to check the man for serious injuries. ''Oh just a few minor cuts and burns'' said H'sikar. ''Nothing i cant fix with a few potions and some good old healing.'' He said, hoisting the priest over his shoulders. ''Shame though, i was hoping to get in at least one good fight before the day was out, guess it'll have to wait.'' He carried the priest back to his room and got to work making a menagerie of potions to help the man heal. He was so busy making potions for burns, and potions to mend flesh, that he barely took any notice of the fact that the khajiit had already left. Hopefully no one came searching for him,H'sikar had a few questions that needed answering,and that is the only reason he even offered to stop for the stranger.

 

[Kir the Silent]

The Dark Wanderer lost sight of, and interest in, the weak priest as the flames started to weaken the building; causing a beam to fall. The Dark Wanderer could have killed the dustling of course, toying with him early on. But once he had managed a circle of protection, he had been saved; for the moment. The circle wouldn't hold forever but the Wanderer disliked that it had hindered him at all. His power was growing and yet that a pitiful dustling managed to fend of his attack, if even for an instant, was an insult to him.

The black robed being felt only, what was to him, a gust of wind as another dustling thought he was victorious. He twisted the sword for good measure, babbling some nonsense about the false gods as he did. The Dark Wanderer simply looked down at the crude weapon piercing him with a small amount of amusement. He straightened up and turned his head as far as he could to face the dustling. Then continued to turn his head in a sickening manner, the sounds of bones breaking and flesh tearing, as he slowly turned his dark gaze upon the pathetic creature. His head had now revolved all the way around and was facing this arrogant little dustling holding an amulet. The hood of the Dark Wanderer, now facing backwards, looked into the eyes of this mortal. Sending feelings of unholy terror and despair through his body while laughing evilly.

"Still think...your false gods can save you dustling..?" There was another sick sound as the figure's arm broke and twisted until it too was facing backwards. The Dark Wanderer reached down with a filthy, bandaged hand and stroked the blade of the sword. As his fingers moved along the blade, it began to rust. Within seconds the sword was no more than a pile of dust and the Dark Wanderer suffered no wound to speak of. "You...your kind...cannot comprehend what I am..."