Proclamations of Kain

I, Kain, ruler of all Nosgoth, do not need advice from mere mortals such as you. How dare you tell me what to do! I won't stand for it, you hear me?


((nah, kiddin'. ♥ IP = off, anon = on, unscreened atm but can be changed on request. How's My Drivin'? Be honest! Can't improve without feedback, right?))

The previous night had been long, and on getting back to Meridian, seventeen fully-armored human Glyph Knights had fallen at his sword in about half an hour, before he'd set about securing their outpost from the inside, so he could sleep for the day... after he'd decorated. Knights, their bodies broken and hung from the architecture's corners at the entrance, tended to ward off other humans, he noted with some amusement.

With the Hylden armies left dying as the Gate to their dimension closed, their offshore stronghold now little more than jetsam, there were but the humans working for them, and likely still a few vampires -- Damned traitors, he growled to himself -- left to deal with. Those, he could take on by himself... but like any ruler, he'd need someone under him to help him manage the masses, and ensure that resistance did not spring up with any hope of surviving. One man did not a kingdom make, even with the entirety of Nosgoth's human population as slaves. He considered seeking out what was left of Vorador's little cabal, but decided against it... now that the old fool had finally met his end, his whimpering lap dog fledgelings would likely be of no use, nor would they trust him even if they were.

He paused, reclining the wooden chair against the wall, giving himself a halfway horizontal place to rest for a few hours.

If only Magnus were still here with me.

The image came, unbidden, to his mind... Magnus, deformed by centuries in the Eternal Prison, his once ivory skin having paled to a sickly grayish white, the top of his head gone, brain exposed... also long gone, his sanity and attire, along with most of the skin and muscle across his abdomen, ribs, and neck. Had Kain known who the mad wretch was, who had been so tortured, experimented on... he'd have removed the stove's pipes from Magnus's chest, and impaled the Wardens themselves on them, made them carry that infernal contraption around, burning their back and putting pressure on their skeleton which they could hardly bear. The look on Magnus's face as he finally came back to himself... it had taken many a knock to the head further, and a great deal of physical trauma, to force his focus back to the present, to awareness of what was truly going on around him, and of his own actions. The look in his remaining eye, as he stared back up at Kain...

"Sire, wait..!"

This thing, this foul creature, had dared address him as though Kain had anything to do with him, as though he knew him, somehow. "What trickery is this?"

"No trickery, sire." Though missing the skin below his nose, to his mouth, he willed himself to speak. The lunatic frenzy had left him, and he struggled to lift his head, to meet Kain's suspicious gaze. "I am your servant once again, your champion..."

"Pathetic wretch. I have no--"

The other winced in pain as he tried to draw a breath, and looked back up again... the familiar yellow cat-eye, the way he focused on Kain, his expression of hope and relief, even after such suffering...

And then it fell into place, the set of his jaw and curve of his cheek bone, the way his ears swept back... No. "Magnus? Could it be?"

"It is I, sire." A hint of a smile, voice breaking with emotion, perhaps on the edge of stressed laughter.

Kain shifted in the chair, adjusting the straps across his ribs which held his armor tight. They were simply getting uncomfortable, he told himself.

There in the Eternal Prison, that place which defied Time itself, with the meddling sorcery of Moebius, the Time Streamer, was what had once been his finest warrior, his right hand and most dutiful soldier, the one person who had earned his trust, who held naught but honesty and unwavering, unquestioning loyalty in his heart toward him. They had mirrored each other's moves, guarded each other's backs, like none others were able, day and night, across Nosgoth, from Vasserbunde, through Steinchenchroe, Nachtholm, eventually even Provance and Freeport... and then, close to Meridian...

Kain winced, shifting againin the chair. Such poorly made straps... He slid a clawed finger up under one of them, tugging it down.

Heading to Meridian, just beyond the outskirts of the town, Kain's army had gathered. It was early twilight, and having stood shift for those who needed rest, the whole of his band were eager, ready to face the soldiers they had seen, the newly-revived Sarafan order. Heavily armored figures, carrying large blades didn't give them pause; it seemed their lust for battle only grew, with every new evidence of their enemy posessing strength. The greater the challenge they faced in conquering, the sweeter the taste of victory, of their foes' blood after the skirmish.

Two heads were unaccounted for that evening -- Sebastian and Magnus.

Sebastian, he hadn't actually noticed. He had assumed that the man was merely among others toward the outskirts of their camp....

Oh, how wrong he had been. He'd found Sebatian not long after his recovery, and dealt with him already...

Magnus, though. Magnus, he had noticed. Had looked for. The soldier had been conspicuous in his absense. Precious time was spent searching for him among the camp, among the buildings -- but try as Kain might, he couldn't distinguish where his scent led.

They moved camp without him, drawing closer to the heart of the city, to where the new Sarafan held their own base of operations, harassing the civillian populace and securing their stranglehold on the city. Scouts came back with reports of their movements, their numbers and locations, and after a week of taking down groups here and there, they were ready to strike at the heart of their enemies' organization. Just before they set out to attack, however...

The pale vampire growled to himself as he stood up from the chair again. He stalked to the window, reached out, grabbed the handle. The force with which he slammed it closed again left cracks in the glass, but the sounds of the breaking day were muted anyhow. He returned to the chair.

Their own location had been surrounded, the enemies' soldiers bearing down upon them with numbers they couldn't have suspected. At ten to one odds, caught off their guard in an ambush, they still might have won -- it would have made the fight interesting, but not necessarily unwinnable -- but these were not humans, he could recall that much. Their voices... now that his memory was coming back to him with greater clarity, details manifesting from the fog of long slumber, he could recall their cries, voices hoarse, hollow, almost, and uniformly detestable. They were the same creatures he had fought in the Device, and in their offshore City, just the other day. They were Hylden.

He made his way straight for their leader, the one with the greatest armor, who stood tallest, a strange green fire forming a halo behind his crested head, and burning in his eyes. Otherworldly. Ominous. Fear-inspiring.

A challenge Kain would not -- could not -- back down from.

It was the last battle he took part in for two centuries. Even now, he could not remember what happened after the final blow, save that the world went black around him as he fell, his grip on his prized, serpentine sword already lost...

He shifted again, taking a breath, willing himself to relax, to let his eyes close. Only just recovered from the comatose state the battle had left him in two days ago, he had yet to sleep. He needed-- no, he actually wanted to. A sort of clarity came with being on edge, with adrenaline and the vampires' already heightened senses on full alert, but a different sort was gained through having rest, a clear-headedness that lended itself well to planning and strategies. It was the latter he would need soon enough.

He had