"You must understand, Jedii," Safira tries to explain, as if giving good reason for her trickery would soften its blow. "I never intended to harm any of you, but I needed help. Defeating an army is no simple task, and I could not be denied such vital assistance. You see, I played a part -albeit unknowingly -in the Orik'baar's release from their eternal rest. As such it is my duty to push them back into their graves. My duty as Sur'haai to protect my people... by any means..."
She bows slightly, crossing her right arm over her chest so that her fist rests just above her heart. "But you have my word, Jedii. Keep your end of our deal, and I won't hinder your search any longer. You shall have your key," she promises.
A promise. A Mandalorian promise... as sturdy and unbreakable a compact as could ever be forged. It would certainly suffice. No matter, it did not change the fact that Safira had tricked them into all this from the beginning. It would be near impossible to trust her with anything now, especially when there was so much they stand to lose. A faint trimmer through the Force pulls George away from his thoughts, but he quickly ignores it. It was just Kain...
Slade, however, appears more interested in the insignificant trimmer, his hand sliding from his Mandalorian captive's mouth as his gaze wanders to the horizon for a mere second before he turns his attention to Safira, fire lurking in the depths of his icy eyes. "That's big talk, woman," the vampire criticizes. "Don't make a promise ya don't have the means to keep. And don't f***in' waste our damn time with your excuses either," he snaps. "Ya think you can justify your actions? Claimin' somethin' was done for the right reasons doesn't make it right."
Safira cocks her head to the side as if studying Slade. While her eyes did not permit her sight, it was possible for the Sur'haai to see far more than just outward appearances. "Spoken like a man who once held great power..." she concludes rather quickly, her voice holding more knowledge than the blonde vampire was comfortable with.
His eyes narrow. Piros baka, he curses to himself. "My past isn't relevant, and shouldn't ya have learned your lesson by now about diggin' up what's best left buried, eh, dala?" he scolds, throwing her own misfortune back into her face.
Instead of lashing out at the vampire like she more than wanted to, the Sur'haai simple ignores him. She didn't need him to lecture her. He was far from holy. All she needed was his demon, that insatiable bloodlust which drove his constant urge to kill. Combined with the sheer, raw power of the noble's brother, it would be more than enough to combat the entire Orik'baar army. She would end this. Once and for all.
She turns to George. "We need to head to the San Ancient's Temple," she instructs. "We uncovered it somewhere along the A'den B'abesh, but it's possible the dunes have swallowed it again so we'll need to search carefully for it. The Orik'baar sleep within its tombs when they don't wander the desert like mad dogs. And there... we will find their god."
"What?!" the Mandalorian butts in abruptly. "You can't be serious!"
"You seek a deicide," Riordan simplifies, suddenly jumping back into the conversation as his vibrant green eyes moves from Slade's rowdy Mandalorian captive to George and Safira.
Safira nods in agreement. "Once they are released it's the only way to stop them." She notices Slade's scrutinizing gaze and continues: "Even if there was another way to stop the Orik'baar, it is still necessary you kill their god. He guards the very thing you seek."
...Ilum, Valley of Glass; before the entrance to the Crystal Temple...
A dark red streak tarnishes the colorless snow, the frozen earth sizzling beneath the stain as if it were acid. Blue fires continue to rage relentlessly, occasionally molded into whips of blazing flames as the harsh wind of Ilum's icy wasteland bends them to its iron will. Sigur, that ancient beast, waits still for his opponents to move against him again, and thusly roars in challenge, scrapping his head along the face of a large rock in order to sharpen his horns.
A heavy unsteady step is followed by a dragging movement which merely succeeds in adding to the trail of blood behind him. Daisuke falls to his knees rather successfully, completely oblivious to the excruciating pain of his horribly mauled, nearly severed leg. Bloodied fingers reach out, brushing aside dirtied blue strands matted down with blood to reveal a now paling face. Greenish gold eyes held open only by his brother's last bit of strength greet him.
"Daisuke," Sabien's strained voice whispers in his mind.
Cruel blue eyes immediately soften as Daisuke does his best to ignore the sharp, repugnant smell of both Sabien's blood and his own clinging to the air around them. Blood. So damn much of it. Here. There. Everywhere. Was this it then? Was this their 'beautiful ending'? Sabien was dangerously close, on the verge of falling into a bottomless abyss he would never again emerge from. Even if Daisuke were to offer the vampire his blood, his own body was so drained it wouldn't save his brother.
Hell, the only thing keeping Sabien alive at the moment was his bond to Daisuke, and even that was a fragile string offering little hope. It couldn't last much longer. Eventually their bond would snap, and death would finally claim the remains of Sabien's soul. It would come for Daisuke not long afterwards.
"At least... we die together... brother..." Sabien attempts to comfort both their fear of death.
Daisuke leans forward, his head resting lightly on Sabien's shoulder. "Together," he confirms.
...Naitsu Inner Sanctum; unknown location...
Silence. Emptiness. Nothing. It had not always been this way. Naitsu had been built to house thousands upon thousands, an immortal army with which to crush the universe in one mighty blow. Such an army had existed once, a hungering pack of wolves which remained hidden and silent for six thousand years, watching their gluttonous prey crumble in upon itself without end.
But when then time came for them to bare their fangs at its throat, to strike mercilessly and rip out its blackened heart, they were unprepared, met with resistance from a foe who knew all too well how to slaughter their 'immortal' brethren. But he knew they were unprepared, knew they would all die one way or another. And still he sent them like lambs to the slaughter...
Because it had all been a necessary sacrifice for a far greater cause than their continued pathetic existence.
. . .
"Death and slaughter and betrayal."
. . .
Heavy footsteps echo within the empty corridors leading towards the Throne Room. For millenia, he'd waited and watched silently as the universe grew and changed in its limited perspective of life and time. He'd ignited countless wars, sent thousands to their deaths... all in preparation for the perfect moment to strike. Now that dark wars raged and alliances were shattered in corrupt conquests for power, that moment was upon him. And he would be merciless.
Well... so would they.
. . .
"All of this has happened before and it will happen again."
. . .
The colossal white doors of the Throne Room burst apart, and a figure adorned in golden armor strides in, boots clanking against the marble floors as the intruder makes his way towards the large throne at the end of the massive room. Mortis appears oblivious to this new arrival despite his blatant entry, or rather doesn't care, his legs crossed in a kingly manner, gaze focused intently on the disorganized chessboard balanced so effortlessly atop one knee.
"Tyrael," the vampire's soft-spoken voice stops the figure in his tracks, "what a pleasant surprise." Mortis carefully picks up the black knight piece, knocking one of the seven red pawns off the board. "It's not often I get visitors here. With everyone gone it does get quite lonely though." The Vampire King looks up suddenly, subtle power lurking deep in the depths of golden brown eyes. "You're welcome to stay as long as you like," he adds with a charming smile.
. . .
"The cycle repeats. Eternal. Relentless. Unstoppable."
. . .
Beneath the white hood which veils his face in darkness, Tyrael's eyes narrow. Mir'athorin was never an opponent to be taken lightly, he was as much a crafty fox as he was a poisonous viper. Even Tyrael's name upon his lips could be the swift end of the valsai'ium. Naitsu was the lion's den, and Tyrael reduced to naught but an innocent lamb. He would have to guard himself carefully within these walls...
"I've come here only by order of Central 49," Tyrael replies, his thunderous voice booming within the confines of the Throne Room.
A devious gleam emerges in Mortis's eyes. "Is that so?"
Tyrael barely catches the shimmer in those dark pools, and his heart skips a beat. Ekam. He knew. He always knew! "You will abandon your search for the valsai'ium keys immediately!" he demands as if his words held some power over Mortis, anger clinging to the fringes of his voice. "Attempts to contaminate Drihten will not be tolerated!"
Mortis's face remains a mask of relative indifference, but his eyes dance with amusement. They sought to stop him? "And if I refuse?" the vampire ponders.
"Then I will be forced to seal you within Kurohitsugi," the valsai'ium answers threateningly, "and bring you before the members of Central 49 where you shall stand trial for your horrendous crimes against the Holy City, and suffer whatever punishment they deem equivalent to your sins."
Mortis chuckles softly, mocking not only Tyrael's threat but also his accusations. "Crimes? I have committed no crimes against your Holy City, valsai'ium."
"Your actions argue otherwise, Mir'athorin," Tyrael retorts. "For twenty thousand years we've watched as you've plotted, setting events into motion that would bring about the perfect opportunity for you to overthrow Drihten, and become some omnipotent version of the god you already believe yourself to be. In truth," Tyrael corrects, "you are nothing but a Dark One, a dweller of shadows and dark spaces, waging war against far greater powers for the right to rule the universe and claim it for yourself."
The valsai'ium draws his sword from its sheath, the mighty blade singing through the Force. "You have not the right, nor the will, nor the ability to bear the burden you seek," Tyrael continues, pointing the tip of his sword at Mortis. "You are but a pale reflection of what you think yourself to be, and what you aspire to be. You speak of yourself as if you were an unstoppable force or some immovable object. But everything moves if its pushed hard enough."
Mortis remains emotionless, not daring to give Tyrael the satisfaction of such a small victory. He waves his hand above the chessboard in his lap as he closes his eyes on a small sigh, the game dispersing and fading into the air like particles of dust. The Vampire King rises to his feet in a graceful movement, the white robes he dons somehow adding to his already intimidating presence. He suddenly opens his eyes with a cocky grin, brown pools igniting to become completely consumed by golden fires which land on Tyrael as if he were nothing but insignificant trash.
"You think to define me?" Mortis wonders, his voice remaining smooth and soft despite his annoyance. It was unnerving. "Greater ones than you have tried and failed to understand what I am. They named me 'monster' -my gift to them they vulgarly called a 'curse'. You seek to understand what is beyond your comprehension; to delay the inevitable. You seek to stop me..." Mortis almost laughs at the mere thought of such an impossible feat.
"Trillions before you failed, and all their efforts were in vain -my laughter echoed still in their mortal ears as their life was robbed of them. It is an eternal cycle," he explains, "looping back upon itself without end. I survive. I endure. I consume. And I conquer."
Mortis vanishes suddenly, instantly reappearing a few inches away from Tyrael. The valsai'ium instinctively musters his strength, and begins to raise his blade, preparing to strike down the vampire. His massive swing, however, is stopped so effortlessly, cracks beginning to split Tyrael's blade where Mortis's finger now rests.
"The cycle shall repeat."
The blade shatters, but within that fraction of a second Tyrael's gauntleted hand lands on Mortis's chest, black electricity crackling around his fingers. The vampire's eyes narrow dangerously, and beneath his hood Tyrael smiles.
"Not if I can help it."
. . .
"Take comfort in knowing that I can wait. Eventually, your wretched existence shall be relieved of you. You will learn suffering. You will learn eternity. And you will learn what it is like to be the unstoppable force. A war shall commence. But it will not end the way you intend it..."
-------------------------------------------------
Done! Well that was certainly fun to write. I'm really getting into Mortis and everything now. We'll be seeing more of him from now on because there's a good bit that has to happen before our big final battle with the vampires verses the humans and the... uh... 'good' vampires I guess. Anyway, speaking of vampires...
Daisuke and Sabien... so sad. Bet ya didn't think they hearts, but eh, there ya go. Even Mortis has a heart... wait, no that's a lie. He's a heartless, manipulative bastard. But he's still bad ass. 
Now speaking of Mortis there's a lot of things to delve into regarding all that just happened up there with Tyrael. Let's see... I'll try my best to organize all this...
First things first I suppose: the pictures of Mortis are simply for better reference since we may have all forgotten how freaking bad ass he looks! 
On a side note his hair in the full body pic is the correct color. It's like a light brown. Not almost black as seen in the close up.
Okay, now when Mortis's 'army' is mentioned it's actually a reference to the entire vampire species. They all served as Mortis's army. Well, Mortis ends up igniting a war with the Elders and whatnot and the vampires are all basically eradicated right? Apparently Mortis planned that and it was supposed to happen. All part of the 'Master Plan'... whatever that 'Master Plan' is...
Hmm... surprise! Tyrael returns! I told ya when he came into the RPG he was an important guy... angel... eh, Guardian thingie. But he's not just an ordinary valsai'ium. His roles will be further expanded on later though.
Ah, and here we have Mortis playing some more chess. If we remember from way back then the black knight is George. Since then Mortis has added 7 red pawns to the board, each of which represents one of the 7 valsai'ium which guard the keys. Now, while George and them didn't kill Tyrael (obviously) they did claim the key he guarded, thus he's no longer a factor in that regard.
Also anything included in formation such as this:
. . .
Text
. . .
Is just another Mortis speech thing. In his last line he's actually addressing George, and where he says "And you will learn what it is like to be the unstoppable force" he's actually referring to George becoming a vampire.
And then at the end where Tyrael's fingers crackle with black electricity he's actually summoned Kurohitsugi. Hope this all helps!
Central 49: An organization which serves as the judiciary authority of the afterlife. Composed of 49 valsai'ium [seven for each of the seven deadly sins] and one supreme overruling judge. These members are in charge of trying all souls for their crimes, and passing judgement for sins. They possess very limited power over immortal souls [such as vampires] though Central 49 can possibly exile them to the Bore for 20,000 years if they commit the crime of high treason [plotting to overthrow the Holy City].
Kurohitsugi: Black Coffin
A power bestowed upon only the highest ranking member of Central 49, Kurohitsugi is a binding spell which envelops its victims in a black box of negation energy adorned with spear-like protrusions. Once trapped inside Kurohitsugi, its victims can no longer use any sort of Force related powers or even communicate telepathically.
Vampire Vocabulary:
piros baka: sneaky b**ch
Mando'a Vocabulary:
A'den B'abesh: Wrath of the East - a river running through Ordo's eastern desert. Kinda like the Nile.
Well... I think that about does it. If you have any questions, just ask. ^_^
Last edited by Beautiful Chaos (2011-10-30 23:45:23)
Oh, that was a good one! He wouldn't be much of a bad guy if he went and got himself killed before the final confrontation now would he? I mean it's certainly possible for someone to kill him [impossibly difficult... but technically still possible] since vampires are generally only immortal in terms of age. But I won't reveal any of my plans for Mortis just yet. You'll just have to wait and see where my imagination takes the notorious Vampire King. 
