Strife lingered behind solemnly for a moment, staring after both angels before taking some time to visit an empty old building far away from the sides of dark and light, here he could sit where he belonged, the lonely grey area that he alone seemed capable of arriving in. Zuu herself had already become an accepted member of the Dark and yet even in his time with Vampire kind, he sat in the brightening dawn of grey. He huffed and fiddled with his weapon fondly for a few minutes, running a slightly clawed finger across the various runes upon its surface as they breathed life into the weapons blade, creating glowing images and murals that he looked at with a sad smile. He wiped his hand slowly across one particular picture, closing his eyes and pressing a tight fist to the mural before letting it fade away, dusting himself off and leaping from the building to transport himself to the Fane. Finally deciding after as much delay as he possible, to go to the summit. The image of a young angel girl with long brown hair and kind eyes, and a brash young vampire smith with startling white hair, burning his vision to its usual unfulfilled grey.

He arrived quite awhile after the others, earning himself a few gazes and glances, he knew they weren't because he was late, but because he was here. So he made his way as best he could to find a familiar face, searching his way through to find Nakhti and settling in as close to her side as was appropriate, if he was going to stand in a hall of angels then he was at least going to look like he had a singular friend to accompany, and thus he took his place quietly and allowed himself to be lost in feverish dreams of the past, where he truly lived. As his eyes settled emptily upon those in charge of the summit.

Helig cleared he throat. "I'm sure you all are wondering why I've called you here, so let me just get on with it." Helig was the kind of soul that was always so chipper, and fun to be around. She didn't leave the Fane hardly at all, if ever, as it was her job to keep it in condition enough and tend to the comfortable needs of all the Guardians. One thing she enjoyed most, was the Ambrosian Feast. She hosted three annual feasts, based around the position of their own star that never left their sky.

Helig pulled her wrap tighter around her shoulders, "The Ambrosian Feast is has fallen upon us. I offer you, your feast." Within the Fane, there is no true sense of time. Helig chooses to put together small celebrations in honor of the Guardians and all of their efforts. Her hope was to give the Guardians opportunity to fellowship with each other.

With a clap of her hands, lines of robed angels floated out holding covered trays. Tables appeared around the edges of the courtyard, each dressed with off white colored table cloths, and vases of different sized and colored flowers. The dishes were of no less in comparison, in that they seemed to sparkle themselves. Each server sat a tray before a chair, followed by wine.

"Please, take your seats." A table had appeared for each Guardian, as more angels poured from within the Fane carrying different trays of fruits, vegetables, cakes, and puddings. Helig made it a point to know her Guardians well, so to serve them their ambrosian food that suited their tastes best made her happy.

Upon each gathering, the Guardian Council was expected to address their elite. "Perhaps first we should officially welcome Strife to his first Ambrosian Feast." She looked to Lezayen. Though she knew there were trying matters that needed to be discussed, Helig liked to start her gatherings out on lighter notes.

"Mm. Magic often has very unintended consequences. I felt a shift in time, my friend. It is concerning. But enough of that for now! Yes, you did hear something about a feast. A banquet in honour of our allies. Your kind will feast on the best of the harvested blood of well-fed prisoners. There is also...ehm...regular food, if you would be interested, but I do so doubt it. Oh, and we also have raw human flesh in reserve." says Ulfang, his gaze still not entirely reassured, but no longer is it so suspicious. He smiles and nods as he turns about and reignites the green flame in his hand, the torches all about them exploding into darkness as the energy returns to his palm. One might wonder how many souls he uses to light this flame.

He leads the two back out of the catacomb-like archives and through the halls, into the main hall, where there is a massive gathering of people and Guardians seated about two long, expertly-crafted Black Oak tables, the naturally diseased wood gleaming oddly, despite having no varnish or finish. Large goblets of crimson red and thick blood sits before vampires, while various meats and breads and wines and meads are placed before the rest. One or two vampires also feast on the human meat, but most keep to the blood. Most of the vampires conduct themselves with dignity, as usual. The Northerners, on the other hand, act with much merriment, violently clanging steel mugs together and generally making a mess and speaking in loud voices. Not surprising for the Northmen, really.

On the far wall there rests a fountain upon a raised dais, an angry-looking dragon spitting a gout of water from its mouth into a basin supported by the wall and two thin dog legs below, the water on a very high-tech and high-class pump system that is truly breaching the impossible by today's standards. Three chandeliers hang from the ceiling, beautiful red crystals casting a lovely crimson glow over the whole affair. To either side, the ceiling is supported by massive pillars sporting rectangular in-facing banners with the Von Haren house insignia: crossed bleeding broadswords upon a field of black and lined with sparkling gold filigree. Stained glass windows depicting awful acts of necromancy and famous battles of the Dreadhall forces line the walls, the gloomy light of the moon barely able to pierce them as it shines through the clouds. As most of the castle's interior, it appears to have been carved entirely from Black Onyx, the entire thing seeming to meld seamlessly, causing an odd, but beautiful sheen of the floors, pillars, and walls. The massive room is a testament to Von Haren power and patience, as this alone may have taken an entire human generation to construct fully.

"And here it is! Beautiful, is it not? Every noble, every vampire, every person of note from the Northlands has joined us here tonight to honour our alliance, my friend," states Ulfang grandly. "Enjoy yourself, of course. And don't forget to sample the highest quality Northern Mead. I had it imported from the beautiful little hamlet of Road's End." He grins and moves to the head of one of the tables, where a decadent-looking throne-like chair sits, another one mirrored on the other table, vacant and reserved for the King of the Night. He picks up the mug that waits for him and raises it into the air, calling out something in the harsh ancient Northern tongue, causing all of the men to fall silent. "We are gathered today," he begins, "to celebrate a long and bountiful alliance with our black brothers, the Guardians of the Night! They have taught us much, and through their alliance we have become more powerful than ever! We sit together now, as equals, ready to forge on into the future and fight the weakness of the Light and bring an era of power to this miserably over-kind world! Rejoice tonight, my followers, for we march for Lionsridge on the morrow! A bit of a sudden announcement, I know, but we are now able to deploy forces of a size unimaginable to any lesser man! For you see, we have gained the perfect fortification, thanks to our allies! We needn't leave but a single platoon to the castle. My soon-to-be general, Rittmeister Edvard, will command the vanguard, and I will lead the main force! Tomorrow, we take the world back from the light, and plunge the world into a new, glorious black age, where the strong prevail and the weak are culled. We humans will no longer be plagued by the weakness of Light!" He laughs a mad laugh and downs the massive mug in his hand in a matter of seconds, slamming it down upon the table.

The men all look quite startled at first, but as the news dawns on them, they begin to cheer one by one, raising their mugs to the air, and soon the noise is deafening, and the festivities continue with increased fervour, and a friendly fight or two might even break out. Ulfang grins at his people, knowing that tomorrow they will use this new zeal to crush his enemies. This was a wonderful day for the Darkness. Finally, the weakness of Light would be purged from this world. The dark would no longer have to hide. He had a special incantation held for just such a day, in fact. As the combined forces marched upon Lionsridge, he would chant, and a black cloud of pure darkness would envelop the sky, blocking out the sun, demoralising the enemy with a perceived bad omen, and shielding the vampires from the harmful effects of the sun. And tomorrow, he would break out his most powerful feat of engineering yet. The Light would forever fear the Von Haren name, and the crossed crimson blades would be the symbol of true strength for years to come.

(ooc: sorry for being gone so long guys things got super busy irl)

Adya sat down at the table and watched her sister as she spoke, she was glad to have such a sibling like Helig she was strong happy and always knew how to throw a party. Though something did not sit right with Adya, why would they be sitting down at a feast when they should be discussing important buisness, about Zuu terrorizing Earth below and unballancing life. She didnt feel like this was the time for a party. She let out a deep sigh and shook her head as the other angels brought out the food for them she thanked them graciously and nodded to them. She looked further down the table and saw Strife and gave him a warm loving smile. She cared for her siblings more than seemed possible and it was great to have a new one with them.

Meanwhile Aiyanna sat across from Strife with a huge smile on her face. She was so excited to be at a party all of her worries about Zuu Zuu melted away as the food was brought out. Aiyanna was like her sister Helig in disposition and in the fact that she rarely left the Fane. She enjoyed keeping hersister company in lots of the things that she did.

Adrastos was still spinning from the unlocked memories that were dancing around his head. His senses were stronger then they had been in decades. His thirst for death was clenching at his throat. He followed Ulfang into the Great Hall barely paying attention to his words. He was drunk on power, and the rejoice in the alliance only fed into it.

Beneath half closed eyes, a smokey grey clouded the vampire's black eyes. Standing beside Ulfang as he made his dinner announcement regarding the alliance and plans for the future, he scanned the crowd. His own brethren stood around the outer edge of the room. They weren't exactly happy about dining with the humans, they thought the idea of dining on them to be more appealing. However, as per Adrastos' order, they obeyed, and let the humans to their tasks.

Just as to be expected, the humans felt the same about the presence of such strong and powerful Dark Guardians within their realm. Who and how could a person trust a soul that stands for the very definition of betrayal. However, Adrastos' faith in Ulfang was not wasted. The man was truly a motivational speaker, of sorts. Adrastos could sense the tension levels dropping. They trusted their leader, and the Guardians trusted Adrastos. As long as the two leaders could keep their alliance in tact, there was no reason why they couldn't succeed. There was, however, the threat of Nakhti. The Dark Angel who refused to embrace her darkness. This brought Zuu to mind. He was curious whether or not she had succeeded in confronting the Light Guardians. Even more curious, if she had failed, and why.

The cheering of the men and women before him brought him out of his trance. Reaching for a goblet that sat before him, he raised his glass to Ulfang, then to the audience.

Ulfang nods to his friend of many years and leans back in his throne-like chair at the head of the table, looking pleased with himself. He takes a long swig of his Northern ale and then speaks to his ally. "There's nothing like a big battle to bring two peoples together, eh?" he asks with a grin. "It's time to end this weakness of theirs and bring unity to the land, under the shroud of darkness. I am more than tired of hiding all of the time, aren't you?"

He watches over the jubilation of his subjects with interest. He must admit to being quite excited himself. Not once has he faced a bigger challenge with more at stake than he will tomorrow. It will not put an end to the war, but capturing Lionsridge would mean opening the gates into the land of Light, for his legions to march into and capture. And if he wins, he will be spoken of in history books for ages to come. Not to mention the achievements he'll make once he rules over the land. With the vampires beside him the whole way, of course...

(oops...)

(Obviously that was not meant to be a triple post >.>)

(Wrong place >.>)

Captain Marcellus sits in the captain's quarters, running a whetstone down the length of his spear tip, lost in thought as he makes the weapon sharp enough to shave with. He thinks back to his time as a mercenary. The dishonorable things he had to do in the name of survival, in the name of money. He wonders if he's the best man to lead the city's defence in times like this. He certainly didn't have the most spotless past, and certainly wasn't the exemplary good guy. But perhaps that's what the lands of light needed. Someone who could get their hands dirty.

As he finally finishes, he looks up, breaking out of his trance. The stains of blood still mark the walls where she who calls herself "the Red Death" left a grizzly reminder of the discontent of vampires. This uneasy peace would not last much longer. The new Captain's already resting grim expression gets grimmer, and he decides to leave in search of a slightly less cursed place. He opens the shoddily repaired door into the corridor, moving toward the part of the Lion's Guard spire that bridges into the uppermost walls. He steps out into the crisp morning air, his armour shining in the rising sunlight, rays of light glinting off the golden spear tip strapped across his back. He looks off toward the Synagogue's mountains, the perpetual dark cloud that looms on the horizon perhaps symbolic of the state of things. The inner city walls are hundreds of miles into the air due to its being built into a mountain, giving him a good look at the waking city below. The first ambitious merchants enter the market square and begin setting up stalls. The first wave of miners lumber off toward the iron mines built under the city. Farmers lead their sellable animals through the shining golden lion's head gates to the north. By all rights it's just another morning in Lionsridge. But something feels...wrong...to the Captain.

"You alright?" asks a feminine voice to his left, "You seem grim...moreso than usual, I mean."
As he looks over, he sees a red-headed freckled mousey face looking over at him, a grin upon her thin lips. It's his second in command, Deirdre MacBaran, a spunky girl from the northmost of the Western Isles provinces -- the only province still resisting the Empire of Roma's control, thought to be filled with barbarians -- and the only one in his former company who supported him in his betrayal and didn't die as a result. He gives a small smile -- the only type he seems to be capable of -- and nods. "Perceptive as always, Deirdre. All-out war will come to Lionsridge soon. I can feel it in the air. I hope I am simply being paranoid," he says, focusing his steely gaze upon the darkness looming on the horizon.

"Well, I cannae say for sure, but I'm inclined tae trust your instinct. Whatever happens, we'll be ready," says the woman, shrugging. Though she doesn't seem extremely worried on the surface, the Captain can sense her tensing up.
"We'll call a military council on the morrow to discuss it," he assures her, "and I will personally make sure the defenses are ready in case of an attack. In the meantime, make sure the men stay alert."

He could swear he heard war horns in the distance, but he shakes it off and dismisses it as paranoia. They couldn't attack so soon, of course...
(This gonna be a few days after the feast, by the way.)

The feast goes exactly as planned, and everyone involved is revitalised, energised for the battles to come. The next morning, Ulfang rises at first light and, after bathing in a viscous black substance and cleansed by his dark servants, puts on his Raven armour, strapping his massive greatsword across his back and fitting the bladed gauntlet he's known for upon his right hand. His eyes glow green momentarily as he takes a sort of inventory of his collected soul energy and smiles. He is madly powerful, having gone to the dungeons and drained half his prisoners of their lifeforce the night before. The newly zombified prisoners would make a good vanguard. Little more than cannon fodder really, but a meat shield was better than none at all, and they were often able to take at least the first line of the enemy down before being decimated. He walks to Adrastos' quarters, knocking politely upon the door with a mailed fist.

"Are you ready to go, my friend?" he asks, "My Dread Knights wait to begin the march. I have gathered the armies of the North here, and with our combined strength we make quite the sight." The King of the North grins. He had been waiting for this day for decades. Now it was finally time. His patience would finally pay off.

Adrian rubbed his eyes groggily in a darkened room in a small hole-in-the-wall of an alleyway. Did I make this hole? Adrian looked around, it seemed night time, or at least cloudy enough to be obstructing the sun. He had hoped to find a way back to. . .Well he wasn't sure where. Maybe looking for assistance in the "locating where I belong" department would be a good start.

As Adrian stepped out of his niche in the cobblestone wall he felt a deep surge of pain course through him quickly, knocking the wind out of his lungs and causing him to kneel. Adrian remained there kneeling until he got his breath back once more. Standing carefully he pulled up a white hood that he had been wearing. Peculiar. . . How did I get here? Who gave me this cloak and more importantly why can I only recall my name? This is maddening! My head aches, my skin is crawling and now I'm stuck in this bright white hood that hurts my eyes! Adrian muttered angrily to himself as he walked down the roads of the small town he was in, he wanted to find someone, anyone that could help him.

After conversing with a few natives he discovered he was close by a town by the name of Lionsridge. Adrian decided if he could find good information anywhere it would probably be Lionsridge. Now all he needed was to get there.


Before Adrian could board the carriage he had hired a wave of nausea washed over him, his knees buckled, his stomach churned and twisted before everything went black.

A loud wailing of an infant reverberates around the small corridor of the little house in the woods. The sound grows in volume adding to the chaos around it. A smiling face looks down upon a babe, a woman's face. Porcelain skin, huge brown eyes, a warm smile that comforts, a round face, and reddish hair. . . The woman is cradling her new baby, her son. As she sighs happily, alone in this woodland cabin she whispers to the child. "You will do great things for me. . . For everyone someday, you have heroism in your soul . . . You will bring the world back into peace. My savior. . My Adrian. . ." With that the woman loosened her grip on the babe from her reclined pose on the bed as she smiles and closes her eyes. Drifting off into eternal sleep. . .

Adrian opened his eyes with a jolt, he was covered in a cold sweat, his heart was racing, but the driver had lifted him into the carriage.At least maybe now he might reach Lionsridge by dawn. Those images he was shown while he was unconscious . . . Was that his life? That woman. . . So familiar and yet. . . No matter Adrian had more important things to occupy his thoughts with. Mainly where he came from. Haunting memories wouldn't stop him from finding the truth no matter how disturbingly real they were.

(Ahah! Finally, we have someone :D)

(I'll do the carriage driver to help you along, if you don't mind. Btw sorry for being gone so long. I got into some financial trouble I had to dig myself out of >.<)
A few more hours pass as the splintered oaken carriage creaks and bumps and jolts over the road, its axels sounding to be barely held together. Certainly, it wasn't in the best condition, but the driver didn't ask as exorbitant a price as others, and so it was ideal for those who had little money and weren't in any hurry to get somewhere extremely fast. The seat that Adrian lays upon is soft enough, however, padded with linen stuffed with hay, and although it's not well-lit, Adrian will be able to see in this darkness better than the average human. A very dim lantern hangs on one wall, and some scant sunlight filters through the crack of the heavy crimson curtains upon the other side that serve as a shield to the world without, closing off the portal to the quickly-rising dawn.

The carriage driver, a gaunt, dark-haired dark-eyed man in his middle ages with a perpetually scowling, wrinkled face opens the carriage's curtain as they arrive at their destination, looking down at Adrian with a not-entirely-pleased expression as he holds the oil lamp he's lit over the nearly dead kid's face. By the light filtering in through the opening he's made, it would appear to be dawn, the sun just now rising slowly over the horizon "Ah, well, yer awake, then. Ye were jus' 'bout dead as a doornail when I lifted ye inta tha' thar seat. Yer lucky I don' charge ye extra, wut fer makin' me do all tha' 'eavy liftin'. I'm an old man, y'know!" he rants in a gravelly, gruff voice, although he doesn't seem to be particularly angry, as he doesn't, in fact, charge Adrian extra for the inconvenience. He beckons to the kid as he steps back down from the carriage, his walk hobbled slightly by a faint limp. "Aye, well, 'ere we are," he says, holding out his hand expectantly, "Tha'll be one gold denar, sir."

Adrian was startled momentarily by the gruff driver, but he managed a slight smile as he searched his pocket, realizing he had no money he shrugged and laughed shakily at the now angry driver.
"Look, uh, I apologize but it seems I have been robbed. I imagine I had been out a long time before I hired your carriage. Would you like to, allow me to get back to you on that payment good sir?"

Adrian turned swiftly on his heel and walked briskly away from the carriage and it's pilot. As he walked he felt the cobbles beneath his feet, every step was heavy, hard to bear. It was as if his legs had decided to revolt against his will. He wished to get to a place where he could discover about himself, he couldn't seem to recall anything. Nothing. Just a name. His own name, and the fact that he was sore all over, his head and entire body felt as if he had been torn apart numerous times then put back together. Whenever he tried to remember his past his brain felt like it would split in two. He clutched at his head and leaned against a cool stone wall, above him was a single flickering lamp. The flickering lights were messing with his eyesight, on and off, stars and blackness crept into his vision.

Suddenly he saw images again.

Faces, there were twelve or so. . . They were glowing brightly, chanting quietly in some language unknown. . . A dagger was held above Adrian's sight. A single word.
'Forget.'
Then once his eyes opened there was a sweet scent of decay and blood coagulating. He glanced down to see thousands of stitches covering his body, a single scream pierced the air. . . It was his own voice calling out in pain, although it was if he wasn't even there. It was if he was watching it all from afar. Then . . . Blackness. . . . Blackness.. . Blackness.

Adrian's eyes flung open as he struggled to stand again.
Where am I? My head. . . It, it hurts. . .