Topic: The coming winter...

Winter Brood Shocktrooper

Date: 2006-09-23 01:10 EST
The weather was changing. The wind was picking up in parts and the temperature was slowly but surely lowering. The summer was all but over; the small leap between it and autumn coming. And then winter would be here?

The two forms who traveled tonight did not feel this meteorological phenomenon. They did not feel the seasons change at all. Cold and heat were foreign concepts to them. All they felt was their mission. It drove them on; it was their mind, body and soul. And tonight, they had failed in their mission.

They had seen the view at the Red Dragon Inn two hours ago, they had seen their target so close they could have reached out and touched her. But the orders were clear; two enter and bring the Master back what he wanted and two stay out of site to watch and report back should anything go incorrectly.

Thus there they were, many miles out of any civilized city and moving to a vast field of nothing. The two figures cut a small silhouette in the blue, waning moonlight as they moved along the grass. Following the proper markers, they located one of the various entrances to the Master's base of operations.

One of the identically uniformed two kneeled and depressed a hidden switch. The earth itself rose up and over, revealing an orange glow beyond the portal's depths. Without a word, the kneeling one slipped over the side of the opening and slid down into the glow. Its companion followed suit and descended next. The portal cover and the earth that camouflaged it rose over and down; sealing the entry and the world was blue again.

Winter Brood Shocktrooper

Date: 2006-09-23 03:21 EST
The two made their way through both natural and man-made tunnels. The route through this underground maze to the main war room was etched into their brains, the Master had seen to that at their inception. Their eyes had shifted out of night vision by themselves, as the orange glow of the fueled torches made the serpentine tunnels easy to see in their normal vision.

Navigating the way, finally they came into the war room. It had been a junction between mineshafts where miners had taken the main elevator, centered in the large spacious hollow, to the surface. All but one entrance remained to this room, the others cut off by prearranged cave-ins and reinforced with iron bracings.

The elevator was no longer operational and was instead reconstructed as a central buttress to the cavern's ceiling. Those the Master birthed saw it as an altar. Various runes and runic jewelry adorned the thirty foot iron support. As well, a hundred battered skeletons the Master had hunted hung in chains, each in various positions according to rites the Master had learned from his Master.

At least two hundred identically dressed soldiers milled about the war room. Groups of them were practicing drills and others were praising their iron altar of their Master. All had shaved heads and bared a similar physique to the other, male and female alike.

The two moved into the war room and towards the one area there were fewer bodies. Erected in this corner of the cavern was a tarpaulin tent of a brown, muddy color. Within the inch, a thirty foot radius of the tent was hardly touched by the soles of feet save one. Heavy soles fell upon this mix of silt, dirt and rock. And only those soles. Those who were seen moving into this radius flinched back out of the touch and went quickly about their training.

Having an odd sense they would be expected, the two moved confidently through with their findings, within the barrier and continued to the tent.

Winter Brood Shocktrooper

Date: 2006-09-23 05:19 EST
"Come, soldier. And report."

The two stood outside of the tent, watching the flickers of candle light seep out and mix with the orange glow the fueled torches lent to the war room. "Our mission was a failure, Master. The two did not secure your prize."

There was a pause of breath from within the tent. "That is unfortunate."

The two identically clad soldiers bowed their heads. "We watched the elf and the two, as you ordered. She is friendly with a lot."

"As was to be expected. Name them off so I may have this information."

The soldier speaking slowed. "Name them off, my Master" One was a dragon, the other was a vampiress. I"we failed in more than one of our duties, Master." The soldier realized he had not completed his task at all.

Another paused breath was let out audibly.

"That was the order, was it not' You were ordered to watch and listen. To give me the information so I may capitalize on it. And I do not recall giving you the honor of addressing yourself singly. You are a tool. One of many I keep in this subterranean chest to use. Are you broken?"

Both soldiers panicked and then wept at that. Then there was movement heard from inside the tent. Warm, salty tears slipped down their newly created cheeks. There was little fight in their re-conditioned minds. They were tools and they were broken.

A clawed hand reached through the tent flap and grasped the speaker by its throat, nails digging into the white flesh of this broken tool, unheeding of the gurgles spouting up from its larynx as he crushed it. The Master continued, though, almost ashamed that he had created this thing; this broken instrument. He savagely removed his grip but did not release it, ripping the soldier's throat out with bloody gouts.

Winter Brood Shocktrooper

Date: 2006-09-23 15:44 EST
The flap was swept aside as the Master emerged from his tent. Head shaven and wearing the leathers every single one of his soldiers wore; he was a foot taller, if that. The build was similar; he looked as though he had just trained longer than most. He had a bearing about him, though. His bearing could not be mistaken for any other in the same leather armor.

The silent and still alive of the two moved, half jumping, half scrabbling out of the thirty foot radius of his Master's domain. Past instincts pulled him away from this being. The panic, the training, even the bite could not overcome this soldier's instinct to flee. If he was caught, it would be final, that much its mind registered.

The Master followed, walking. He kept the other in his view as the thing scrambled, dived and jumped. The silent soldier landed finally and turned into the Master's grasp. He had watched and was simply there when the being completed his landing, the preternatural speed of his blood slowing everything around him down. In an instance, the fleeing soldier was a pre-made dream the Master could watch all day, at his leisure.

The Master grabbed him and looked into his scared eyes with glowing red slits. "When tools are broken, they are destroyed."

The Master grabbed the soldier's throat with one hand and bending down, grabbed his shin with the other in a vise grip. The soldier was turned horizontal in the grip and ripped in half, his entrails splattering to the floor in a blood soaked mess. Many of the watching soldiers who had moved in for the spectacle took their reward of obedience, slurping up the vitae left from their fallen comrade.

The Master turned and moved off, motioning to a group who were still practicing drills. The Significants, he dubbed them. His finest bred creations. Psychically adept and magically attuned to the world, they were his information gatherers when he really needed information. He had personally ripped out all of their tongues and they would have thanked him for it if they could.

?The Red Dragon Inn will be watched and reported on. I want my quarry's acquaintances watched, cataloged and reported. And since we do not know names because of broken tools, you will watch them all. You will not engage any. You will watch and report daily. This quarry is a special breed. I demand your best. Or I will make you another feast for the willing."

The small group nodded in unison and set out.

Tasha Oberon

Date: 2007-02-12 13:26 EST
The first moment she had stepped back out into the realm of RhyDin, she knew. Call it instinct if you will, or a natural ability to sense those not of the living but she was keenly aware of those hidden watchers. Hungry mad eyes gazing from the shadows unseen, only felt. Perhaps that was really an over active imagination talking, but just on the edges of Tasha's necromantic energies, was that faint, indefinable thread of thirst. It carried the same echoes of ghostly forms, yearning for life, and yet, there was something tempering it. Muffling that craving they carried that left her at a loss to its source.

The small elf stood, just inside the wards of Shadowhold, looking outwards, searching for any sign to their location. She could detect nothing, just the cold moan of the winter wind that sent snow flurries dancing along the lane like fuzzy white devils. Sharp pointed ears listened intently, probing in vain hope to catch a snapping of a twig, or an ice crumbling step, but only found frosty silence.

It was unnerving. Those before that had followed her, mumbling insane, puzzling words about "Winter Brood" and their "Master" hadn't appeared to be so skilled with stalking. These she felt now, managed to avoid her eyes, cloud her senses and avoid true detection from skills born years before out of paranoia. Instantly the urge to flee broke lose inside of her and she spun, running back towards the large keep behind her. Steps faltering as boots fought to find purchase, battling with patches of slick ice that lay like patchwork traps under the snow crusted ground.

Half way to the door and the warmth within she stopped abruptly. "Oh hell no." Tasha muttered darkly, with violet eyes glowing under the skeins of the thick scarf covering her head. She was made of sterner stuff. She wasn't a coward, nor was she weak. Not like she used to be. Tasha had skills. Spells and chants that could call down horrors upon those that now stalked her. Her necro-mage powers while not nearly as honed, could also have some effect, though she was loath to use those within the township due to unpredictable and often deadly consequences.

She wasn't going to run. Not this time. With her spine stiffening she turned around stiffly and made her way back towards the gate. Let them watch her. Should they seek to attack, she would be prepared, with incantations designed to hurt their kind with maximum devastation. She would make every effort to keep the necromantic storm from triggering, knowing there wasn't much around that could be used to fuel the staggering amount of energy it seemed to require. Unfortunately, when that archaic urge for survival was triggered, Tasha often couldn't control it.

In Theory she might be able to direct it, but if the one attacking was already dead, it truly was useless as a weapon against them. The last time it had happened, she had killed hundreds of living things. True, nothing above the range of fish and rats, which had been in abundance on the docks of Tignus. Here, with everything in stasis due to a bitter cold artic winter, she didn't know where the energy would be found. In fact, she didn't really want to find out either.

It was a vain aspiration, but Tasha hoped she would be able to control the situation in the event of an attack. They didn't know what horrors she carried in her arsenal. Spells collected and memorized carefully. Weapons designed to inflict agony to undead flesh. The Emergency Portaling amulet Luc had given her, but she really wasn't thrilled with it. The bloody thing gave her a raging case of motion sickness. She had one last skill she could also use, but it meant putting herself into dangerous territory. It was a last resort type of thing, as the paths of the dead was in chaos currently. Even short hops had drawn problems, but if faced with her own death verses the annoyances of a few angry spectrals drawn to her light, Tasha would gladly deal with the ghostly visitors.

That too held risks. Her Step-Father roamed the Paths of the Dead now. Tainting it with his own madness and insanity, but Tasha was fairly sure she could avoid him. She stuck to the edges, using short hops when needed or what was far more normal these days, she just avoided it all together.

Tasha Oberon

Date: 2007-02-12 13:28 EST
That too held risks. Her Step-Father roamed the Paths of the Dead now. Tainting it with his own madness and insanity, but Tasha was fairly sure she could avoid him. She stuck to the edges, using short hops when needed or what was far more normal these days, she just avoided it all together.

Moving away from the safety of Shadowhold, she hugged the right side of the road with some caution. Few roamed about with the bone cutting cold,and the dense haze of snow and mist blanketing the realm. She was delighted at the enchantments she had placed on her duster and jacket was working, as she was staying warm for once, but she still missed her bike, just knew that trying to use it on the treacherous roads would result in either a painful crash, spinning out control or laying it down into an icy slide to keep from all the above. None of which held much appeal to the diminutive elf.

Passing the high walls of the Scathachian Sanctuary, Tasha twitched under her many layers of clothing. Feeling the itching rising up on her covered skin with huff and hurried past, rather like a child passing a scary old rumored haunted mansion. The sisters seemed nice enough really, but their wards were downright nasty. She couldn't even tell what they were protecting against, as her mage sight detected a wide net like array of tangled energies, but she apparently fell under one of the perceived dangers. It was understandable if even a little unsettling, but as this was RhyDin, it was required.

Tasha suspected those sisters would likely feel the same sort of revulsion if they tried to enter Shadowhold or Onyx compounds without invitation. She had heard for years how bright lightly types were more judgmental, prone to back stabbing and quick to attack anything they didn't understand without provocation, thus her own family guarded against that along many other dangers both seen and unseen.

For a moment though, the sensation of eyes boring into her back had ceased. Drawing back out of range that seemed to require some distance. It was something to remember. Apparently her shadowy followers didn't care for the wards either. That made her snicker faintly. She might break out in hives, but she could always use those wards in a pinch, should the need arise. She had been taught to utilize anything that what was available after all.

It was the only reason she was venturing out into this Gods Forsaken artic freeze. Tasha was in serious need of having some questions answered. It would require finding a sane vampire. Something she wasn't terribly sure existed. There were a few she knew and liked but she had doubts to their state of mind. Some in her family, some not, but there was always that question of just how much would they actually share. She loved Tara, but knew she wouldn't work for Tasha's current needs.

The tiny Countess was notorious for weaving fantastic tales, exaggerating the truth and in some instances outright fabrications. Had Smokey been around, it would have been him she would have hunted down. As it was, there wasn't a very long list she could use in regards to this. That left her now seeking, searching and hoping she could glean some answers to the question that baffled her now. It was a long shot, but considering she had little else to go on, it was better then nothing at all.