Chapter Text
I can still remember that night…
The sounds of night dwelling creatures surrounded me as I walked a well-traveled, yet lonely path. Along with those sounds came a breeze that stung my hands and bit at my ears, the sensation sending pins and needles deep into my bones, making it difficult to keep a grip on what little I had taken with me. The snow crunched softly under my feet like cracking eggshell, each step breaking through the thin layer of ice that had now formed from the ever-dropping temperatures.
After walking for hours in the freezing embrace of night, I felt great relief when I could see light ahead, soft shimmers peeking through the trees, urging me to move more quickly as my body begged to be warm again.
I’d come to the edge of the city limits, not hesitating to walk through the old wooden door and into the tavern that dwindled just within the outskirts, quickly making my way over to the fire that burned fiercely in the corner of the otherwise empty room.
Immediately I dropped the bag on my shoulder to the ground and crouched down, outstretching my hands to the edge of the flames and moving my fingers as they licked at my palms, beginning to feel the feeling in my hands returning, and the brisk biting of my cold steel armor subsiding.
It was quiet, soothing, and at this point I realized the cold may have been the only thing keeping me awake, as with the warmth came a weight in my eyes that only grew heavier with every passing moment.
Reluctantly, I got up and walked away from the fireplace, making my way over to the bar where I sat heavily down on one of the wooden stools, hoping to drench what cold remained in my core with strong drink before I made my way back outside.
Behind the counter was a thick barkeep who didn’t even acknowledge my existence as he was busy cleaning, a half damp rag clutched tightly between bulky fingers as he whisked it quickly over any visible surface. With it being so late, and I being the only customer in his establishment, it was clear he was preparing to close for the night, however I spoke up nonetheless. “Excuse me, sir? Could you please pour me a mug of Ale, I won’t be long.”
The once sultry silence was pierced by my words, and the mood shattered by his in turn. “Beat it, outlander, we’re closed.”
“Come now, no drink for a weary traveler from distant Coorhagen? I understand the circumstances; however, I am of Noble blood, and I’d be more than willing to pay well for your services.”
“Ya’ not hearing me, boy? I said we’re closed. Only a mad man would stay open knowing what roams when the wary dark sets in, so off with ya’.”
I sighed out of annoyance, watching as the man still didn’t even give me a glance. I held my tongue and got back up, walking over and grabbing my bag, slinging it back over my shoulder as I made my way back out the door. The moment the door shut behind me I could hear the barkeep lock it, muttering something strewn with profanity before his heavy footsteps walked away.
I couldn’t help but feel bitter, wanting nothing more than to tell him to kiss the King’s backside for the rude introduction to the town of Ziegsturhl. However, at the moment, I was more concerned with getting to an inn, and putting the entirety of the day behind me, trading the stress and aggravation for a warm bed and a good night’s rest.
So, at once I was turned away to the cold, bitter night.
I began my walk again as I saw the lights that once guided me beginning to go out, the town itself resting, and turning silent. The stone paved path below me was glossed with frost and ice, the moon shining from high above reflecting off its surface, turning the street into a crystal-lined image of an otherwise dreary and uninteresting settlement.
The night may not have given me much comfort; however, I had no fear for it. Most people would rather retreat behind doors once the sun went down for fear of creatures and robbers, but I wasn’t one to bend to the threat of a fight. In those days I could not care less of the consequences from my own choices, or the crimes of opportunity that loomed from a young nobleman traveling the dark alone.
Before I could even make it halfway to the nearest inn, I could hear footsteps behind me, no doubt emerging from one of the many alleyways that lined the cracking cobblestone structures. I stopped in my tracks, turning to meet my stalker. “Can I help you?”
He didn’t respond, or at least, not at first. His steely gaze looked me up and down, scanning me in detail before his eyes finally met mine. “You Kain?”
“Who’s asking?” I snapped, my hand drifting down to the hilt of my sword, grasping the cold steel tightly. He seemed to almost enjoy seeing me put my guard up and made no attempt to move away from me after I had.
“That crest on your hilt is telling enough. Dark hair, green eyes, dressed in royal armor, and the Nine can only imagine how much coin you’ve got on you.” He spoke with a tone that seemed to reflect his ill intentions, and as he did, others emerged from the dark.
Slowly they approached, five in number, and all armed with blades of their own; drawn and hungry for blood.
I looked around me and quickly withdrew my sword as I was surrounded in the narrow street, readying myself for the inevitable outcome to this encounter. “If it’s money you seek then you can have it, I do not wish to fight over mere coin.”
“Oh, no, that is only our tip once all this is done. We’ve already been paid, and bringing back your head should let our buyer know he spent his generous amounts of coin well.” He said as he withdrew a blade of his own, taking a step in my direction as I glanced around once more, seeing his men follow suit.
I couldn’t help but feel some sense of pride knowing they sent so many just to dispose of me, but that didn’t stop my heart from racing for the same reasons. “Fine, you want my head? Then come and take it before I’m given the chance to mount yours on my blade!”
He grinned at that, and as soon as the words left my mouth, he, along with his men, made their move.
All charged in at once, however the one on my left made it first, raising his blade with the intent of cutting me down before his nose met the hard butt of my sword, staggering him back. The next came from my flank, and I swung my sword high with spinning precision to come crashing down on him at an angle, watching the spray of sparks and blood as my blade cut down over his face, and grazed his armor.
The one I’d previously hit, with blood now spewing from his nose and into his mouth like the maw of an open river, had recovered quicker than I expected and moved in, grabbing my sword arm as another from my other side grabbed me as well. I abruptly stomped my boot heel into his ankle, hearing him scream as he loosened his grip, giving me just enough room to connect my elbow with his face before getting my sword arm free and slashing the other across his throat.
The spray of blood temporarily blinded me as I struggled to regain my bearings but had no time to do even that as the man who’d originally confronted me charged, wrapping his arms around my waist and driving me to the ground. My sword flew from my hand as the wind was knocked out of me, and I struggled to get him off as he threw a blow to my jaw. I could already taste my own blood pooling in my mouth as my tooth cracked, but I quickly returned the favor and kneed him hard in the stomach.
The moment he was stunned I flipped onto my stomach, scrambling for my sword, but was once again beaten down hard to the ground as I was kicked in my ribs.
Once more I felt something break, a stream of shooting pain erupting from my side as the man whose face was now mangled from both the hilt of my sword, and the elbow of my armor swung back and kicked me again. I had nothing more than fabric between the sections of my armor plating, and he seemed to have noticed that as he kicked in once more, again and again, making me spit blood and gasp for air as I wheezed upon the cold ground.
I made one final attempt to grab my blade, however it proved useless as it was kicked away from me, and I had not the strength to reach it.
I lay there on the ground, broken and bloody as the two stood over me, the presumed leader, and his bleeding lackey struggling to catch their breath as mine was all but leaving me.
“Finish this, now, before a guard comes looking.” The leader spoke through winded gasps, and I glanced up to see the other reach down and take my sword in hand. The leader walked away from me, growing smaller down the street as the other walked behind me and out of view. It wasn’t long before I felt a knee pressed against my back, and the cold sting of my own steel as my sword was driven through my armor, and down into my chest, slicing and obliterating any flesh or organ in its path.
So much blood came from my mouth that I could hardly breathe, the warm, viscus substance flooding my throat and filling my nose; however, in that one moment, I let out a scream that no man nor God could ignore, my last mortal cry of pain…
The cold, followed by blackness came, however in that blackness someone, or rather, something, heard my cry. When I finally opened my eyes again, I had no idea how I’d gotten there but had a pretty good idea of where I was.
I was greeted with an endless pit below me, and from down in that pit spewed hot red flames that licked at my skin as though they were just itching to grab ahold and pull me down into its depths. I stood upright facing the fiery abyss as my hands were tightly chained to two iron posts at either side of me, firmly holding me in my servitude. As I looked down, I was met with my own bloody reflection in the very blade that had taken my life, my blade, the blade that was now firmly lodged in my chest, and all its pain still there with it.
This was “Hell:” this was my eternal torment for the wrongs I had committed, wrongs I had been seeking to right, but failed as the time to do so was stolen from me. No matter how hard I tried, no matter how hard I pulled and thrashed, I could not free from the bonds that bound me; I could not free myself from this place, and knew no mortal man ever would as until now the prospect, or more rather the threat of its existence, was nothing more than words in a book, written long before any man’s time.
I don’t know how long I was there; it could have been years for all I knew, but after a time, I felt someone place their hand on my shoulder. I quickly looked up, but to not see anyone before me, however, as I looked over to see who had approached from behind, I was only met with shadow; deep and menacing.
“Fear not, Kain, I mean you no harm.” A deep, wisp-like voice spoke, and I could feel this thing grab the sword in my chest, quickly pulling it out as my back arched from the pain and I once more cried out, the shock only serving to make me throw up blood, blood that boiled on contact with the stone floor at my feet. Oddly, I didn’t seem to be bleeding out, no clouding of the mind came from such a wound, only an eternal stream of deep red pouring from my body in an endless, and painful reminder of my fall.
Next, my wrists were unshackled, and I would have fallen into the pit below if it weren’t for whomever it was wrapping his arms under my shoulders and gently dragging me back. Once I was set down on the ground away from the abyss and the man came to face me, I then realized that this was not a man at all, but a fowl looking creature, it’s chest nothing more than a maw of curled ribs that were strung together like sharp teeth, his face holding the fracturing remnants of a cracked and long bleached skull, black cloth draping over the rest of its body, hiding itself.
He crouched down and extended his decaying hand, at which I quickly brushed it away from me. “Relax, child, I am nothing like those that sent you to this place.” He spoke in calm and sultry words.
“No, you’re not. You’re a demon that dwells in the shadows of death, and I shall have no council with the likes of you.” Distrusting anger bled through my words as I turned my gaze from him. As my anger may not have been directly for this entity, the hate and pain for my cast from the living world was still fresh on the tip of my tongue.
He tilted his head slightly, his hood falling gently to the side of his regal face. “Truly? Even one that would offer you a chance at that which you seek?”
“And how would you know what I seek?!” I snapped back, now starring straight into his darkened eyes that sat deep within shadowed sockets.
The creature stood, his gaze now transfixed over the fiery fissure, trained into the void. “I have seen the fire burn in the eyes of many men, a flame that is sparked by the cruelty of the unjust. They are the same flames that now dance in your eyes.” He spoke calmly, extending his hand to me once more as he looked down over me with his withered form. “They are the flames of revenge.”
His words struck truth, the anger I felt had now grown into a raging inferno, flickering impulses fueled by emotional embers, a blaze I wanted to turn my enemies to ash with.
After a brief moment of contemplation, I reached out to take his hand, accepting his aid in getting me to my feet. “You seem to know me, but what should I call you?”
“I am known as Mortanius.” He spoke, giving a slight bow. “Member of the Circle of Nine, and Guardian to the Pillar of Death. If you accept my offer, I will gladly return you to the land of the living to act out whatever judgment you see fit.”
“And what would this offer be?” I asked, truly wondering what use I could be to a being such as one of the Nine.
“In return I would require your assistance with a matter in the living world, a simple... Well, ‘favor,’ if you will. One you will be more than capable of handling.”
Sometimes your life comes down to a series of desperate and horrible decisions. At that moment I did not care if I were in Heaven nor Hell, all I wanted was to get back at my assassins… and sometimes, you get your wish.
The necromancer Mortanius had offered me the chance to seek out the revenge I so craved, and like a fool I jumped on his offer without considering the cost. Nothing is free, nothing is so simple, not even a choice, everything has a price, and within that burning abyss, standing before the Guardian, I was about to pay my heavy toll.
With my blade still in hand, Mortanius turned it in his grasp before grazing the length of the steel with the tips of his fingers, soft streams of light emanating from his touch to cascade down the sharpened edge before sinking into the very tang of the sword like a twisting river succumbing to drought.
He then turned the handle to me, offering it back, and as I gripped it I could feel an energy unlike any other I had known. It swelled inside of me; I could feel it coursing through my veins like a rapture of lightning. The deal was struck, and the last thing I remember is walking over the chasm of flames, their heat never touching me, and my body never falling to the ground below. It's as though the flames themselves were fueling my intentions, a living being that now breathed with the same breath as my own: guiding me, empowering me, driving me on the straight path forward.
The next thing I knew was I was waking up in the dark, awakening to the pain of a new existence.
I went to sit up, only to strike my head on something above me. I winced and groaned but barely had enough room to even reach my forehead, my movement completely restricted. I could feel my sword laying over my chest, and I was still dressed in armor, but couldn’t get more details than that.
It was becoming difficult to breathe as I placed my hands on the wood above me and began to push. I strained, feeling like I was trying to move a boulder as the wood groaned and protested to my attempts to break free.
With what little room I had, I coiled back and punched upwards, feeling the wood beginning to give as debris fell on my face. I repeatedly slammed my fist into it, over and over again until I heard the wood split and crack, chunks of dirt falling into my mouth, small stones battering my body. I quickly realized I was underground as I pulled away at the wood, struggling to make a space large enough for me to fit through and begin digging my way upwards through the unsettled soil, holding my breath so as not to get the debris in my lungs.
As my hand finally broke the surface I clambered out of the hole, throwing my sword aside as I rolled onto my back, taking in large breaths of air. The air itself though was offensive, stale and earthy, with hints of moisture and death coming in wafts that made my stomach lurch.
I wiped the dirt from my face and looked around, seeing long dead wall sconces that were hinged to the unfinished stone, along with coffins that lined the walls, and offerings left by the feet of epitaphs. It became apparent that I was in the city mausoleum, and even more apparent that I had just dug my way out of my own fresh grave.
I slowly sat up, feeling over my chest where my sword once lay, and it was at this time I realized something was very, very, wrong.
The sound of my hand touching over my chest brought soft clinks of metal, my fingertips not even reaching the armor. I held my hands in front of me, studying them, seeing the sharp claws that now tipped my fingers, and the pale color of my skin. I felt along my face, then up to my hair, feeling things I no longer recognized as my own. The hair trailing down over my shoulders fell in white and silver strands, and with that I quickly grabbed my blade to look into its reflection.
What I saw wasn’t me, it couldn’t be, I looked so starkly different from what I knew, and yet I also knew that the reflection before me was my own as similarities remained vaguely behind this parody of my visage. A pair of paradoxically orange eyes stared back at me, flecks of shimmer swimming in my gaze like smoldering embers that ignited at the first hint of light, my face and body now lupine, and with that wolf-like appearance came a craving I’d never known.
I let my blade fall by my side and held my stomach, a harsh burning sensation radiating from my core that made me feel weak. I stuck my blade in the ground and used it to help me stand, staggering over to the nearest archway and bracing myself on it, still clutching my stomach tightly. I could see light up ahead, and began slowly making my way towards it, exiting this dreary place, rising again like that of the sun.
The sun no longer gave me any comfort, having to quickly shield my eyes as I stepped out into it. It was hard to see, my eyes completely blinded by rays of unfathomable brightness, a slight ringing in my head following it as a once uncomfortable tingle slowly grew to a more painful itching over my skin.
I could hear something, a voice, someone coming towards me, however I was so disoriented that I couldn’t tell from where. “Sir? Good sir, are you alright?!” I could hear the panic in his words, the worry for me, and I tried to make my way closer to the sound, however I only managed to stumble down the stone steps and into this person’s arms, at the very least grateful that he caught me. “Whoa now, take it easy there, son. You look like death!”
“Pain…” I mumbled; my voice hoarse as I clung to his shoulder.
“Hey, it’s alright now, I have you. Come, let’s sit you down.” His words spoke kindly, but I had to wonder what he thought of me? Perhaps that I was a drunk who’d stumbled into the cemetery, or a degenerate who’d lost his way. I suppose in a way he would be right about that.
I kept my eyes closed as he guided me over to the shade, setting me down by the side of his carriage. “There you are. Just wait a moment, I’ll get you something to drink.”
“Thank you…” I muttered, slowly regaining myself now that the light was off me, rubbing my eyes, trying to focus. After a moment the gentleman came back, handing me a water bag. I took it, feeling the dryness in my throat and being desperate to quench it. However, as I opened it, something stopped me from bringing it to my lips. Something didn’t feel right, a strange aversion and fear taking hold, something screaming at me as though I were about to drink poison. I sighed and handed it back to him. “I’m not thirsty.”
“Are you sure? You genuinely look like you could use it.”
“no.” I said, closing the bag tightly before now casting it away from me, that fear only building.
“Sir, please, I only mean to help.”
“You can help by getting that thing the Hells away from me.”
“Don’t be stubborn now, son, it’s only water-” He spoke as he picked up the bag and extended it to me again, at which I quickly slapped it away.
“I said, NO!” I yelled as I swatted at it, however my claws extended through my anger and cut the bag wide open. The water sprayed over my hand and up my arm, simple water acting like acid as I recoiled and screamed, grabbing my burning flesh.
The man quickly grabbed my shoulders, confused and blinded to what I had become as he tried to calm me down, but through the pain, a new sensation took over me.
I smelled the air and looked to see the man’s hand bleeding from my outburst, the smell of his blood saturating my senses with primal instinct.
His previous concern and care for me flashed to fear as his eyes met mine, my vision ringed in red as his emotion had no effect on my own. Quicker than I even knew I could move, I reached out and clasped my hand tightly around his neck, opening my mouth and feeling my canines extend as I plunged them deep into the base of his throat. He thrashed and fought back against me, his screams for help falling on deaf ears as I forced him to the ground, letting the animalistic urges take over as I drained him. A split second, a blink of the eye and I had him, another flash and he was on the ground, and now before I even had a rational thought of what had taken over me within body, mind and soul, I was feeling his pulse falter under my tongue.
His blood brought an instant relief and pleasure from the moment it touched my lips, and I found it impossible to stop once this had started. I fed from him long after his heart had given out, time slowing, but not being able to pull away until the blood flow itself stagnated.
I sat back, wiping my mouth as I took in the sense of relaxation and euphoria, any and all pain leaving my body, the haze in my mind now gone. However, as I looked down, seeing the man on the ground, realization hit as my actions now caught up to reality. “I… by the Gods, what have I done?” I asked myself, regret sinking in as I reached up and felt over my fangs, seeing the fresh blood on my hands.
“Seems as though you’re already getting the hang of this.” The voice came with an amused chuckle that made me jump, and I looked up to see Mortanius standing next to me, appearing like a looming storm on the wind.
“You... You bastard, what have you done to me?!”
“I have simply given you that which you have asked for, the strength to take your revenge.” He spoke calmly again before looking down at me. “You were right to avoid the water, a shame really that Vampires have such an aversion to it.”
“So that’s what you’ve done, made me this creature of the night, a God damned parasite.”
“You are alive, are you not?”
“And you call this living? Prowling the night, stalking the innocent, forced to hide from the Order?!”
He chuckled at that, looking back out over the horizon. “The Order of the Ironguard will not know you, in fact most still believe you dead, and thus you are free to walk the streets… for now.”
I got back up, brushing myself off and staying within the shadow of the carriage, wanting to speak, but not before the necromancer spoke first. “You should seek out the tavern you first visited when you came to this place, I believe you will find what you are looking for there. And I would hurry; I can smell rain on the wind.”
I looked up, and sure enough he was speaking the truth, dark clouds beginning to swirl in the North. “And what of you?” I asked, but once I turned back, he was already gone.
I looked around for a moment, then down to the corpse at my feet. He was an older man, more than likely a farmer who’d been on his way into town to sell his goods. I narrowed my eyes and knelt down, using my claws to rip the red shirt from his torso, not exactly happy with myself for the defiling act, but not having much choice. I wrapped the fabric over my head and around my mouth, shielding myself from the light as I made my way to the front of the carriage, unhooking the horse from it and climbing onto its bear back. Reins in hand, I pulled my makeshift cloak further over my eyes, seeing the road before me.
I took a moment to admire the Pillars of Fate in the distance. Even now in death, I still found them to be magnificent, a beautiful landmark that doted Nosgoth with inspiring elegance as it reached up to the sky like a hand that stretched through the clouds to graze the stars within the deep blue. Few sights have moved me such as this… a shame that Nosgoth itself was akin to the rot back in the mausoleum comparatively. Such beauty to grace our dying world.
I wondered if I would ever see them through the same eyes again.
With a call to move and a crack of the reins, I was off, heading back into town, and back to my place of death.