Cemetary Crypt

[Alalia Morrigan]

Alalia felt a surge of primal excitement as she knocked the man down to the ground, his skin offering no resistance to her claws. She could smell his blood in the air, feel it on her hands, warm from a still beating heart. Well, she could quickly remedy that, couldn’t she? Holding the man’s upper arms to the ground, a simple task as he was offering no resistance, she lowered her face and licked the puncture wounds her claws had left in his shoulder. The rich metallic taste of blood coated her tongue and further incited her predatory instincts.

However, just as she had lifted one hand to tear out his throat, she heard something. It was a strange noise, more lyrical than the snarl of a predator like herself, but lower than a bird’s call. Resting a hand on her prey’s chest to keep it from escaping, she sat up, her ears flicking about as she listened. There it was again, but more hostile this time, and one series of sounds sounded familiar. Alalia. Oh, she remembered now. That was her name.

Looking back down at the creature trembling beneath her claws, she was surprised to find not a deer or rabbit, but a human. A disgusted sneer twisted her lips as watched him shiver and stare up at her in obvious terror. Standing, she stepped away from the cemetery keeper so Darkheart could deal with him. Jumping onto a grave stone, she perched there and began to lick the blood off her claws.

[Morsereg Dindaedel]

Morsereg followed Darkheart as he ran towards Alalia, watching as she made her way to perch atop a tombstone. Swiftly he walked towards where the two were, to ensure she did not maul him into uselessness. He stopped before the keeper, keeping his eyes fixed on Alalia as he leaned to grasp a handful of cloth in his hand.

Forcefully he dragged the man to his feet, "Come on then," His hand quickly moved from his shirt to the back of his head, gripping a clump of hair. "I'd advise you against running again. There's still much to be done here," He snarled, baring his fangs in the man's face.

Almost instantaneously, Morsereg's demeanor switched, and he was once again a civilized noble, however never moving his hand from its grip on the back of the keeper's head. "But, where were we...?" His eyes looked to Darkheart as he asked the question.

[Mavarion]

((NPC Post))


The keeper lay under the cat creature, his ears barely registering that people were calling out. His breath misted in the cool evening air as his rapid breathing began to slow.

She, for he could tell it was a she for all that it looked like a feline, wasn't going to kill him. Even now, she was getting off him and moving away. He was unsettled to watch her lick blood, his blood!, from her paws, but that was immediately replaced by pain as he was wrenched upright by the gentleman. Pain coursed through him, and black dots filled his vision. He was released, and would have fallen back down had something not taken a painful hold of the back of what little hair he had left. His vision cleared to a horrid sight of bared fangs and pale, nearly translucent skin; a mockery of the gentleman he had seen by the crypt, this creature who looked the same, yet courser, more vile ... evil.

...still much to be done here.

His brain finally caught up to what his ears were hearing. He was near to sensory overload, and painwas throbbing from the claw holes in his shoulders, and beginning to start at the back of his head as small clumps of hair slowly parted from his scalp.

"I 'ave done more'n me fair share o' work today, Masters. Let ol' Jerem go, an' I wone tell no one tha' I saw ya tanigh'! I swears by me motha's grave, I will na!"

[Shadowsong]

Now for the really annoying part: begging.

Ramming his sword back in it's scabbard with a loud click, Darkheart reconsidered, unsheathed the weapon again and then passed it blade-down into his shield hand. Not much could be done with that arm while holding a shield in place, but he could shift his grip on the shield to hold his sword in place. With his now free hand he passed torches to the three others present.

As an unlit torch came the old man's way, so did a cheery 'Welcome aboard!'

More seriously, he addressed the two more willing companions. 'I know you both favour the shadows, but we'll need light down there. Darkness will be our enemy, so try to keep things well-lit.' A quick glance was cast Morsereg's way, although he seemed fine in the Red Chalice before it was unknown how well the vampire could handle light. 'I can't carry a light. I will either be handling traps or will have both my sword and shield ready.'

With that, he transferred his sword to his right hand before addressing the gravekeeper. 'Corpses are quite common in cemetaries. You are coming with us. While you do, you might want to think of ways you could benefit us that we wont gain just by killing you.'

Turning slightly to address Alalia, 'I have no problem calling off the hunt. If you are joining us though, you will need to convince me and my comrade here...' deliberately not using Morsereg's name in front of the hostage, '...that we can trust you. As far as I know, you would still quite happily kill us if you could get away with it.'

Giving the cat-girl chance to think on the subject, his voice took on pure menace as it addressed the graveskeeper. 'You would be best explaining everything you know about what wanted you to look down that hole, because you are the one going down there first.'

[Alalia Morrigan]

Alalia watched Morsereg pull the old man to his feet, holding him up by his hair. As she watched the exchange she continued to clean the blood from her claws, not only because she craved the metallic taste on her tongue, but also because her feline instincts wanted her hands clean. As the vampire threatened the man, she wondered if the scent of blood from the Keeper’s wounds was as appealing to him as it was to her.

When Darkheart held out an unlit torch, she looked at it for a moment, then reached out with her clean hand and took it. Thrusting it through her belt, she went back to her grooming. Once every drop of blood had been removed, she retracted her claws and put her gloves back on. She had to use her teeth to pull the skintight leather over her hands, but after a few tugs she had them in place.

When the guard spoke of trust, however, a smirk curved the feline’s lips, exposing a fanged eyetooth. “Darkheart, I know we’ve only been acquainted for a short time, but I should hope you know me better than that,” she replied in a patronizing tone. “I would still quite happily kill you, but first I need you to rescind your earlier orders. As for your ‘comrade’, what makes you think he’ll give you any more loyalty than I once you’ve found whatever it is that you want down in the tombs? Truthfully, you can trust me more than him. I need you alive, at least for now. However, it’s far easier to steal something from a corpse, which, like you said, is quite a common thing to find in a cemetery.”

[Mavarion]

((NPC Post))

The keeper shuddered as he listened to the exchange between the three. Had he only been on his way when darkness fell...

Why hadn't he left? he suddenly thought. What was it that kept him by the battlemage's crypt longer than any sane person would have wanted to stay?

He shook his head at something. It almost felt like something scrabbling along his skull, trying to get inside his head. He frowned, then looked up at the guardsman.

"I know naught what yer talkin' 'bout, Masta ... Darkheart." His eyes flickered over to the cat-woman, from whom he'd gotten the name of the guardsmen, before settling back on Krevster. "There wa' nothin' tha' wanted me ta go down thar, an' nothin' tha' could get me ta go down thar..." He paused, looking at the torch held his way. "I 'spose 'til now."

He slowly reached up and took the torch, a resigned expression appearing on his face, then started towards the crypt as Morsereg released his grip on the back of his head. He rubbed the puncture wounds on the shoulder holding the torch with his other hand, hissing once in pain.[/b]

[Shadowsong]

Attempting to sow dissention? That was interesting. Her patronizing tone did not impress the soldier either. If anything, all she was offering was more evidence that she could not be trusted. Her words against Morsereg implied that she wanted to sabotage their mission. Why would she be acting like this if her goal was to bargain for his aid?

Once again, the tapering long sword was passed into the shield hand, and some sort of stone was drawn from a pouch. Lifting the shield towards the torch in... Jerem's? hand, the stone was scraped across the shield-rim, lighting the torch with the spray of sparks. Now that he was holding a burning brand, he would find it harder to slip past unnoticed.

Staring directly at the feline, he spoke in a deadly whisper, 'My ally has greater foresight than you. This is not the only place I am searching. Have you ever wondered where I get my information from?'

Silence.

Pausing for thought, he passed his sword back into his weapon hand and pointed it at Alalia. 'You, give your sword belt to him.' The sword pointed towards Morsereg. 'We have a demonstration that your claws do not leave you defenceless.' A glance was cast towards the old man.

'Decide on your terms as well.' he informed the vampire. 'If she does not accept them all, she can stay well out of Shim.'

Donning and buckling his helm, he side-stepped towards the gravekeeper, sword and shield at the ready as the keeper reached the entryway to the crypt. Morsereg could handle Alalia, the crypt still needed dealing with.

[Morsereg Dindaedel]

Morsereg stood in silence until he took the torch from Darkheart that was offered to him, proceeding to hiss under his breath. He did not like light. He could stand it when he had to, in places such as bars and the houses of other nobles, but he despised it in every way imaginable. Fire even moreso, because it had the potential to consume his immortal body and completely destroy him.

He lit his from the gravekeeper's torch after his had been lit, and turned to Alalia to take her sword belt from her. "In more immediate requirements, anything you find down there in the crypt must be shown to myself and to our companion," He motioned to Darkheart, "You will be walking infront of me and will be within my eyesight at all times. If you must turn towards me, all motions must be slow. Any quick movements in an attempt to strike me down, and you will be joining every other body laying peacefully on these hallowed grounds." He paused, letting the sheer hatred in his voice settle before he continued.

"For more long-term requirements...you are never to come looking for me. If there is something we can do to aid each other in any cause, I will find you, not vice versa. You are never to speak my name, nor to reveal my identity and tear down my masquerade." He hissed the last part under his breath to her. "Understood?"

[Alalia Morrigan]

Alalia bared her teeth at Darkheart as he passed, but said nothing and made no move to attack. Looking to Morsereg, she slowly unbuckled her scabbard, rapier inside it. At no point did she lower her odd green gaze from his eyes, despite the fact that it slowed her task a bit. Once she had removed it, she handed it to him, sheathed point first in a silent threat.

Once her sword was out of her grasp, the catgirl removed her leather gloves and thrust them through her belt. If she could not have her blade, she was going to have her other weapons ready. Flexing her fingers slowly, she allowed her claws to slip out one at a time in an almost luxurious fashion.

“Don’t worry,” Alalia purred, her tone disarmingly light. “If I ever come find you, you won’t have to bother with the rest. You’ll be dead, properly, this time.” Pulling her unlit torch from its place in her belt, she leaned close to him. When their noses were almost touching, she smirked and touched the tip of her torch to his already blazing brand. As she leaned back, she turned to follow Darkheart, allowing her now-lit torch to swing perilously close to the vampire’s face.

[Mavarion]

((NPC Post))

Jerem the keeper hunched his shoulders as he walked through the group. He had fallen in with a wicked bunch of people, he had been attacked by a cat-woman, it was late, and he should have been in bed several hours ago. Now, with a lit torch, he was leading a group of miscreants towards the battlemage crypt, all intentions seeming to point towards entering it.

He led the way back to the crypt, his earlier run having taken them not a little ways away. Attempting to ignore the conversations behind him, he silently berated himself for violating his after dark rule.

But had he really violated it? Or had something kept him there this night? He remembered very little as to why he had been sitting on the ground outside the crypt, staring into a hole. And the guard, Darkheart, had asked about something that wanted him to go into that hole, but he couldn't recall what had made him stay there.

Abruptly Jerem was in front of the crypt again, his shuffling gait having turned into a quicker walk as he had neared. Lost in his own thoughts, he had inadvertently rushed to the crypt. However, this realization was lost on him. He moved to the door, pushing on it with all his might. It only moved an inch, then just an inch more, before stopping tight.

With a hiss of frustration, Jerem suddenly rushed towards the corner and the person sized hole he knew was in the side of the crypt.

[Shadowsong]

Once again the sheer mewling arrogance of that feline was like the tantrum of a spoilt child. It seemed she had a need to exert power over others and being powerless in this situation must have infuriated her, hence her consistant antagonism at every opportunity. So she disliked the situation? That thought entertained Darkheart.

A chuckle escaped when Alalia finished her boast, or her threat, however one chose to read into it. Nothing she had done so far suggested competance on her part. He wanted her to know as much.

Witnessing the failed attempt to force the crypt door, a theory was tested. Bunching his arm behind the shield, the warrior lunged forward and rammed the door... having given the gravekeeper chance to step aside.

Bounce.

Interesting. Apparantly brute force was not an answer. Useful to have that confirmed. With no further word, the mercenary followed Jerem around the tomb to the man-sized hole, sword and shield at the ready.

After seeing that stunt with the torch, a show of support was perhaps in order. 'If you want to kill her for that, be my guest. Just let me haul the carcass back to the Battlemages.' In theory, those words addressed Morsereg, in truth, they were a message to everyone present.

Some idle musing took place about how much of her blood he would like left in her body in that situation. It would be an interesting negotiation.

Confidence aside, Jerem was watched very carefully on his way into the side of the crypt. Whatever was going to happen, it would be best to happen within sight.

[Morsereg Dindaedel]

"It's fine," Morsereg responded with a hiss, holding his torch firmly. "She may be of use. Plus, if I were to kill her you might be questioned as to where exactly the bite marks came from." He waited for Alalia to begin walking and followed her, leaving his eyes on the cat-person at all times.

"I hope you know, Alalia, that another stunt like that will not be tolerated." He whispered to her, snarling. "You try it again and I won't be so merciful as I was just now."

He made sure to keep the torch in a firm grasp but also as far away from his body as possible so as to tolerate it a bit more. And to keep himself from being ignited.

[Alalia Morrigan]

Alalia hissed when Darkheart gave Morsereg permission to kill her. She hated the vampire and wanted to kill him, but she wanted to confrontation to occur on her terms. With the situation as it was, she would be the one to die.

Fortunately, the offer was declined, and the cat-girl's arrogance returned in full force. When the vampire snarled at her, she smirked. "That wasn't a 'stunt', as you put it," she replied, her voice almost casual. "That was a warning. Stay on your guard, vampire. I won't miss next time."

Before Morsereg had a chance to respond, Alalia followed the two humans around the side of the crypt. She was eager to get inside, if it was only to get back out again. She was not afraid of what might be inside of the tomb, quite the contrary, really. Ancient magics and booby traps bored her, as she had been created by the former and escaped the latter on several occasions. Her only worry was the Darkheart would be killed, and along with him would die her chance of escaping angry villagers.

[Mavarion]

((NPC Post))


Jerem ignored everything around him, from the casual threats between the three antagonists to Krevster bouncing off the door he had recently tried.

It was clear from the fevered way in which he acted, and the fact that he used his arms no matter how painful it must be to have puncture wounds in the shoulder joints, that Jerem was not himself. Gone was the deference and respect he had first shown a Marn City guardsman, even as he dug at the hole with his bare hands, scrabbling dirt into the air behind him. Something was calling to him, calling him to come down into the crypt and take it. It promised power and prestige ...

Jerem paused, looking back at Krevster in confusion. He had never been one to think of power and money. He was perfectly happy in his life as the gravekeeper of Shim, following the path his father and his father's father had followed before him.

Whatever was calling to him suddenly changed tactics. Bring them to me, it called to Jerem. You shall be rewarded. Show them the way.

Jerem turned again to Krevster. "It wishes ya ta go ta it. It asks me ta bring ya." He suddenly seemed excited and fearful at the same time. His eyes twitched to the shovel still lying on the ground next to his other tools, then to the small hole in the side of the crypt, then to the width of Krevster's shoulders.

"Nay, ya will na fit through there, as big as y'are." He picked up the shovel and deftly began to widen the hole until it seemed wide enough to admit Krevster.

With a cry of triumph, he ducked and scooted into the hole before anyone could stop him.

[Shadowsong]

Well, interesting. Progress.

Discovering that he was welcome came as a surprise, yet he felt that his situation was the same as it was a moment before. In all honesty, this was convenient.

As the shovel began widening the hole, a grin spread out from under the helm.

This new enthusiasm was strange, it was also convenient. Even if it was a sign of something gaining influence over the gravekeeper. Now there was little need to constantly push the gravekeeper every step of the way. Why the thing inside wanted him was a mystery to the warrior, a mystery that needed an answer.

'Torch!' barked the soldier as Jerem ducked into the hole.

Once again passing his sword into his shield hand, Darkheart took the torch softly burning on the ground and cast it into the hole after the gravekeeper, granting some mild illumination. Then he returned his sword to his right hand.

At the hole itself, he raised and braced his shield and held his sword in a defensive position. Jerem would presumably be allowed to enter inside, but the others might be considered valid targets. In truth, both the vampire and the unholy construct were more likely to be spared by anything inside, and Jerem was under this thing's power. Suddenly Krevster began feeling incredibly vulnerable.

Not that he was vulnerable in his armour. Between the gaps of his armour he was protected by a layer of chain, beneath that was padding. The only unprotected area was his face beneath the T-slit of his spired helmet.

Aware of the possibility of Jerem belting him with the shovel on the way in, and the near certainty that something was waiting for him, he followed the keeper inside. With his shield held to ward of sudden attacks.