Announcements: Universe of the Month! » Finding Universes to Join (and making yours more visible!) » Guide To Universes On RPG » Starter Locations & Prompts for Newbies » RPG Chat — the official app » USERNAME CHANGES » Suggestions & Requests: THE MASTER THREAD »

Latest Discussions: Impending Pursuit Q&A » Eudaimonia » Loot! » Natural Kinds » I have a funny idea » Life in the 21st century. » Song of the Runes » Plato’s Beard » Clues » Nihilism » Strange Tales From Hadean » Art Gulag [ Come get this Commish! ] » Visibility of Private Universes & Profile Customisation » Presuppositionalism » Aphantasia » Skill Trees - Good, Bad & Ugly » In-Game Gods & Gameplay Impact » Cunningham's Law » The Tribalism of Religion » Lost Library »

Players Wanted: Looking For A New Partner » Hellboy characters » 18+ Writing Partner [Fantasy, Romance, Etc.] » 18+, Multi-Para to Novella Writers please! » Looking for roleplayers » Fun tale full of angels, demons, and humans » Looking for roleplayers » A Fairytale World in Need of Heroes & Villains! » Are You a Crime Addict? » Wuxia RP » Looking for roleplayers » New Realistic Roleplay - Small World Life ٩( ´・ш・)و » Mentors Wanted » MV Recruiting Drive: sci-fi players wanted! » Veilbrand: The Revolution » Gonna do this anyway. » Looking for Kamen Rider Players » Elysium » Looking for roleplayers for a dystopian past! » Revamping Fantasy Adventure RPG, need new players »

0
followers
follow

Istzyr Baenval

Drow Vampire.

0 · 585 views · located in Necropolis Hollows

a character in “The Multiverse”, as played by Marcus

Description

Istzyr Baenval

Image

GENERAL INFO
Full name: – My name is Istzyr Baenval.
Alias/Nicknames: – The Pretender or Houseless One have been used many of times before as Aliases and even being called The Shroud has come up once or twice but when it comes down to nicknames one in particular has followed me to the grave and back, Emerald.
Gender: – I am very much a male.
Species/Race: – I am a Drow first and foremost and shall never forget my beginnings but to the surprise of my peers in the field of research I have chosen I now walk among the dead and drink from my victims’ blood like the vampire I truly am.
Age: - As to this day I am roughly 23 years within my undeath for the 159 I have lived while walking with the living.
Current Residence: - I travel, mostly, however I find that I spend most of my time resting in a small dimensional rift that a dear friend created for me when my plight and aversion to light became a bit extreme.
Job/Profession: – Some would say that I am a procurer of fine art but that would insinuate that I steal and pilfer what is not rightfully mine. I would more like to think of it as a constantly evolving business arrangement. In truth I only took up the ‘traders’ lifestyle so that I could see the world instead of staying down in a dark oppressive cavern were the only fresh air one can get is death itself.
Title: - Lord Istzyr of Silken Inn.
Allegiance/Alignment/Clan(s): – Whoever or whatever suits me I suppose. If someone asked me what my moral alignment was I would have to say that I am True Evil. I have no clan to call my own.

APPEARANCE
Height: – I am 5’7”
Weight: - 212 pounds
Build: - Light yet muscular.
Eye Color: - Emerald Green.
Hair Color: - Silver White.
Handedness: - Ambidextrous.
Skin Shade/Color: - Ebony.
Scars/Tattoos/Piercings: - I have several scars that run down my back from the days before my rebirth if that is what you want to know. I do not have any tattoos or piercings as lucky as I may be.

MENTALITY
Sexuality/Preference: - I am not one to turn away from love or affection but I am one to deny it to others or even completely ignore them if I see fit.
Sanity: - Sanity is only relevant for those who are asking. I am completely sane when it comes down to it.
Friends: - None at the moment.
Likes: - I am a being of fine and exceptional tastes and as such only the best of the best will do. What I do not know when it comes down to those nice things I take exceptional pride in it.
Dislikes: – Low quality items and poor company are my only dislikes. I assure you if you mix the two of those I would have to correct that little problem.
Hobbies: - Reading of course but what kind of man would I be if that was all I took up. I am a painter at heart and have commissioned many portraits over the years before I finished off my subjects in a bloody mess of heat and passion.
EQUIPMENT
Weapons:
– Lame De Mort- Not a simple tool used for farming for those who actually can claim that they have seen the dreaded scythe but a weapon of such fear that it was named for not only its versatility but its cutting edge. Lame De Mort when used in the hands of its owner at first appears to be nothing more than a pair of thin metallic wings that sit respectively on any creature of the nights back but this is only a ruse as they are as sharp as any weapon. Lame De Mort grants the ability to control all bladed weapons that its wielder throws allowing them to stay in the air and even stay in one place if it is willed. The wings that the scythe provides allows its master to fly.
-Valse sans effusion de sang- Not many can claim to have control of the power of their own blood as a weapon but Istzyr was blessed with this rather unique and deadly ability. Along with his minor manipulation of the shadows around him this drow can create real after images of himself and even use his blood like it was a deadly acid or to create portals or solid masses.
-Griffes du Démon- Istzyr normally does not show them but he does have razor sharp claws that have been known to extend up to three feet at the most. His nails are as sharp as diamonds and with his vampiric strength he has shattered many a thing in the past and present.
-Le charme morts- It is said that vampires have the ability to subtily manipulate the mind into believing something else. This is no different when a simple smile is given and those who it was directed towards have a sudden change of heart. This is a passive ability and is always active though not all are affected by the will of a vampire in the same manner as others.
Combat Attire: – The only form of Combat Attire I own is what I am wearing right at this bloody moment.
Accessories: – Besides all of my wealth I have acquired over the years there is not much to say that is noticeable. However if I find something I will be sure to let you know.
Miscellaneous: – Nothing at the moment of course.

So begins...

Istzyr Baenval's Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Terran Marine Command Character Portrait: Alucard Character Portrait: The National Police Agency Character Portrait: SOLCOM Character Portrait: Kristen Leon Character Portrait: Elisha Whitcomb Character Portrait: The Invictus Character Portrait: Arya Sloane Character Portrait: Paragon Character Portrait: Varden Expeditionary Fleet Character Portrait: Dyew Character Portrait: Istzyr Baenval Character Portrait: Mikha'el Character Portrait: Arden Maximoff Character Portrait: Zephaniel Character Portrait: Vicar
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

#, as written by Gasmask

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Terran Marine Command Character Portrait: Alucard Character Portrait: The National Police Agency Character Portrait: SOLCOM Character Portrait: Kristen Leon Character Portrait: Elisha Whitcomb Character Portrait: The Invictus Character Portrait: Arya Sloane Character Portrait: Paragon Character Portrait: Varden Expeditionary Fleet Character Portrait: Dyew Character Portrait: Istzyr Baenval Character Portrait: Mikha'el Character Portrait: Arden Maximoff Character Portrait: Zephaniel Character Portrait: Vicar
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

#, as written by Gasmask
A figure fumbled his way though the fighting, muttering to himself, looking to the skies with his crimson mask. Some of the undead had gotten in his way, the preacher's mouth formed a thin line and swung his electrified mace though the stinking creatures, booting others that had dodged him, treating them like a game of brutal hacky-sack.

One of the zombies grappled with him as he ran up a fire escape, it wrestled for his throat, settling for his a chunk of his lip and a spray of viscous red blood splattered the railing, Vicar screamed with fury and seized the thing by the ears and swung its head against the railing, slamming it repeatedly until the very foundations of the fire escape started to rattle dangerously.

The blood didn't stop the trail of words. "And come the fall of blessed sun." Vicar stormed up the fire escape, seeing his savior fighting with the vampire, he'd never have that kind of power, he was but a man. Vicar brought up his wrist to wipe the blood and spit off his torn face.

"They raved across the night." Vicar brought up his pace, skidding across the roof, ignoring the stinging pain in his face and pushing a battery into his mace and then took a blind leap of faith. "To torment, murder, steal, corrupt." The priest went flying down the gap, bringing his hand up to catch the edge of the roof haul himself up.

The preacher spat onto stony roof, seeing this attempt on his saviors life and charged forward with the zeal of a man with nothing left to lose, bringing his electrified mace in a crackling arc to smash the vampire lord's face in, confident in the Paragon's ability to avoid harm.

Vicar had no words, but to scream his rage. The violent priest wasn't going to survive this night anyway, that bite would ruin him.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Terran Marine Command Character Portrait: Alucard Character Portrait: The National Police Agency Character Portrait: SOLCOM Character Portrait: Kristen Leon Character Portrait: Elisha Whitcomb Character Portrait: The Invictus Character Portrait: Arya Sloane Character Portrait: Paragon Character Portrait: Varden Expeditionary Fleet Character Portrait: Dyew Character Portrait: Istzyr Baenval Character Portrait: Mikha'el Character Portrait: Arden Maximoff Character Portrait: Zephaniel Character Portrait: Vicar
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

#, as written by Gasmask
A figure fumbled his way though the fighting, muttering to himself, looking to the skies with his crimson mask. Some of the undead had gotten in his way, the preacher's mouth formed a thin line and swung his electrified mace though the stinking creatures, booting others that had dodged him, treating them like a game of brutal hacky-sack.

One of the zombies grappled with him as he ran up a fire escape, it wrestled for his throat, settling for his a chunk of his lip and a spray of viscous red blood splattered the railing, Vicar screamed with fury and seized the thing by the ears and swung its head against the railing, slamming it repeatedly until the very foundations of the fire escape started to rattle dangerously.

The blood didn't stop the trail of words. "And come the fall of blessed sun." Vicar stormed up the fire escape, seeing his savior fighting with the vampire, he'd never have that kind of power, he was but a man. Vicar brought up his wrist to wipe the blood and spit off his torn face.

"They raved across the night." Vicar brought up his pace, skidding across the roof, ignoring the stinging pain in his face and pushing a battery into his mace and then took a blind leap of faith. "To torment, murder, steal, corrupt." The priest went flying down the gap, bringing his hand up to catch the edge of the roof haul himself up.

The preacher spat onto stony roof, seeing this attempt on his saviors life and charged forward with the zeal of a man with nothing left to lose, bringing his electrified mace in a crackling arc to smash the vampire lord's face in, confident in the Paragon's ability to avoid harm.

Vicar had no words, but to scream his rage. The violent priest wasn't going to survive this night anyway, that bite would ruin him.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Terran Marine Command Character Portrait: Alucard Character Portrait: The National Police Agency Character Portrait: SOLCOM Character Portrait: Kristen Leon Character Portrait: Elisha Whitcomb Character Portrait: The Invictus Character Portrait: Arya Sloane Character Portrait: Paragon Character Portrait: Varden Expeditionary Fleet Character Portrait: Dyew Character Portrait: Istzyr Baenval Character Portrait: Mikha'el Character Portrait: Arden Maximoff Character Portrait: Zephaniel Character Portrait: Vicar
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

#, as written by Nemo
Just when it seemed Vladimar would decapitate Paragon before the fighting had even begun, the cloaked warrior swung his sword over his head, parrying the attack before it could reach his neck. Glaring white met black sanguine as the two blades collided.

Side-stepping gracefully, Paragon threw the Blood King's sword off his own with a light thrust at the hilt, weaving beneath the blade's edge and delivering a series of quick but accurate slices at the vampire's frame, mostly concentrated around his arms and legs. Curiously, Paragon seemed to be avoiding Vladimar's more vital areas. He seemed more intent on crippling the vampire than he did kill him.

His movements were fluid and wispy, like the shadow of an insect flitting nimbly from point to point. He never stood still enough to match Vladimar muscle-for-muscle, but seemed content to adopt a 'parry and evade' tactic. That said, he was quick. Very quick. As agile and dexterous as any skilled swordsman could be. His feet made strange patterns across the forming pentagram, moving between the triangular shapes with terrifying grace. The toes of his boots scraped between the folds of the red star...

---

Back on the ground, the NPA (and hopefully, the other allies) were taking advantage of the mysterious angel's brief stem of the tide. Enforcers scrambled to get the remaining civilians to safety, finish off the stragglers that still remained and re-fortify their position.

"Drop team, put the packages on target!" a sergeant roared, "energize those mids!"

A small squad of Paladin Fighters roared over the city, a dozen circular pods ejecting from their undersides and smashing into the asphalt below. They made a circular perimeter around the hell portal and lay still and quiet for a few moments... before flaring up in a wave of vibrant green. All at once, a plasma shield flared up around the conflict center, re-enforcing the Svalinn with another layer of protection. When Mikha'el's holy barrier fell, the plasma shield would incinerate whatever the Svalinn couldn't keep back.

"All allies, stay away from the green," the sergeant spoke into the comm, "we've got hot plasma contact. Quarantine is in effect."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Terran Marine Command Character Portrait: Alucard Character Portrait: The National Police Agency Character Portrait: Kristen Leon Character Portrait: The Invictus Character Portrait: Arya Sloane Character Portrait: Paragon Character Portrait: Istzyr Baenval Character Portrait: Mikha'el Character Portrait: Arden Maximoff Character Portrait: Zephaniel Character Portrait: Vicar
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

Vladimar's blade lashed at Paragon like a viper filled with uncanny agility and rage. He glanced to the side as Vicar's mace collided with his cheek. Bone splintered and blood poured from his mutilated eye. The vampire king retained his footing and assaulted Paragon with countless slashes and thrusts. Paragon's blows met their mark unanimously if not scathed the unholy knight's armor. Blood dripped from numerous gashes across Vladimar's body as the abominable legion flowed from the hellish darkness beneath his tattered cloak.

"Heh heh hah..." Vladimar snickered as he slid to the opposite side of the roof. He supported his massive frame with the girth of his blade. The vampire king looked up at the three figures before him. An eerie crimson glow resonated from his smashed hollow eye socket. "Heh heh hah... hehehehehah... HAHAHAHAHAHAH! Yes... Now things are getting a bit more fun."

Vladimar straightened himself to his full height, towering over the average man. Bones reshaped and snapped into place as senew and muscle tissue regenerated. New flesh filled in the deep wounds left by Paragon's blade. Skin stretched and smoothed over the healed wounds like a fresh coat of paint.

"You're fast... I'll give you that." he said as he glanced down to the battle field. "It appears the dogs have gotten some help... No matter. They have seen but a fraction of the armies at my command!"

"Ego vocare te..." his voice thundered across the winds. "... legiones inferni! Audient vocern Vladimar!"

His cloak snapped into the air as if cast by a violent gale. The tides of darkness that flowed from it intensified tenfold like a broken flood gate. As the Boiling Phlegethon channeled through the vampire king, so did the countless souls that were bound to his will. They spilled out by the thousands, flooding the streets, sidewalks, and lower floors of the buildings beneath them. The terror and chaos that drenched the city seemed to only fuel the unholy tide.

"Principatus noche bestia!" he cried as he stretched out his gauntlet towards the regrouping army. A low rumble resonated from below the streets. The manholes flipped. Rats swarmed from the nether regions of the city and casted confusions between the feet of the soldiers. Seconds passed before the air and ground filled with all manner of vile creatures - cockroaches, flies, bats, crickets, spiders, and scorpions.

Vladimar finally returned his attention to Paragon and his cultist. "Now..." the vampire king smirked as he gripped his runeblade in both hands. "Let us see how fast you are..."

He charged with a strike of crimson lightning as he brought his blade down with a wicked slash. Vladimar vanished again, reappearing on the opposite side of the roof, before charging again. This motion continued. Faster and faster. Charge. Slash. Evade. Charge. His speed quickened. Was he in two places at once, or was that a trick of the eye?

As his brutal assault intensified, the hellish rune glowed with a dark red glimmer. It was nearly complete. The rune drank the blood offering greedily, but its hunger could not be sated. In order for the ritual to complete, it required the blood of something more... immortal.

-----

When Mikha'el's barrier shattered, the Archangel ripped through the air. He scooped up a fleeing family just before the plasma fell. His wings folded tightly to protect them from the liquid fire.

"Magen!" his voice rung with divine authority as he stretched out a hand towards a soldier pinned beneath a toppled car. A radiance surrounded the man, shielding him from all harm.

Mikha'el rose to his feet when the ordeal passed. The rescued family thanked him before resuming their flight. He scanned the battlefield with his eagle-like vision. Though the familiars were destroyed from the plasma, the chaotic energy remained. Then, as the renewed and greater wave flowed from the skyscraper, he took to the sky. The Archangel's wings unfolded like a battle standard as the grip around his sword tightened.

"Stand fast, Sons of Adam and Daughters of Eve!" his voice boomed. "Stand fast and show no fear to this devil! Your fear will only weaken thyself and strengthen thy foe. Though we walk through the Valley of the Shadow of Death, we will fear no evil! Be as unto David slaying his tens of thousands in the name of righteousness! Feel neither fear nor weariness! For I, Mikha'el the Guardian, leader of the Archangels, bestow my blessing upon thee!"

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Terran Marine Command Character Portrait: Alucard Character Portrait: The National Police Agency Character Portrait: Kristen Leon Character Portrait: The Invictus Character Portrait: Arya Sloane Character Portrait: Paragon Character Portrait: Istzyr Baenval Character Portrait: Mikha'el Character Portrait: Arden Maximoff Character Portrait: Zephaniel Character Portrait: Vicar
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

#, as written by Nemo
Paragon retreated, his weapon a blurring frenzy as he desperately attempted to parry Vladimar's superhuman flurry of strikes. For a few brief moments, his form held, white sword meeting black blade blow for blow. The moon warrior leaped gracefully across the rooftop, matching Vladimar's brutish speed with dexterous agility.

Of course, he couldn't last. The Blood King, empowered by the chaotic energies reaped from the souls of countless innocents, was far too quick. The first slash landed across his back, slicing through his cloak and a layer of the thick fiber-armor beneath. Paragon fought on, unphased, delivering two quick counter-attacks at Vladimar's shoulder and waist. He was following through for a back-handed swing across the vampire's torso when he felt a hot burning over his calves. By the gods, HOW had he attacked there? He'd been right in his line of sight the whole time. It was almost as if he were fighting two or three opponents at once.

Back stepping, Paragon traced a pattern with his foot and the end of the pentagram, stepping forward to once again face his opponent. He didn't even parry a single strike. Two slashes across his pectorals. One over his hamstring. A burning swathe of hellfire crawled over his shoulder and into his back, welting the skin beneath. He staggered briefly beneath the pain before rising to his feet... only to have the armor on his torso ripped open by a mighty downward slice.

Paragon stumbled backwards, growling as he hit the floor. His bare chest, bruised and wilted, was exposed to Vladimar's view. He lay on the ground, struggling to rise, breathing heavily. His body was conveniently positioned in the direct center of the pentagram.

---

The Enforcers, meanwhile, were fighting harder than ever. Spurred on by Mikha'el's example and beset on all sides with a host of allies, they struggle to contain the new wave of madness unleashed by the Blood King. The plasma shield did its work, incinerating the grunts before they even reached the streets and damaging the stronger champions as they pooled out, hot plasma scathing their bodies with every step. Flaring white barrages of purging ether met the offenders at every turn, bringing them down in scores. The newly-killed bodies of the dead filled the streets.

Evil had upped the ante, but so had the defenders.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Terran Marine Command Character Portrait: Alucard Character Portrait: The National Police Agency Character Portrait: Kristen Leon Character Portrait: The Invictus Character Portrait: Arya Sloane Character Portrait: Paragon Character Portrait: Istzyr Baenval Character Portrait: Mikha'el Character Portrait: Arden Maximoff Character Portrait: Zephaniel Character Portrait: Vicar
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

#, as written by Nemo

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Terran Marine Command Character Portrait: Alucard Character Portrait: The National Police Agency Character Portrait: Kristen Leon Character Portrait: The Invictus Character Portrait: Arya Sloane Character Portrait: Paragon Character Portrait: Istzyr Baenval Character Portrait: Mikha'el Character Portrait: Arden Maximoff Character Portrait: Zephaniel Character Portrait: Vicar
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

Zephaniel looked with happiness as he managed to secure the building below him. Though he nearly fell off the rooftop when sensed a familiar aura. He turned to see the Leader of the Archangels. He who is like God, Saint Mikha'el. He never suspected he would appear. Though he was not upset that he did. Surely Mikha'el will turn the battle into God's favor. He has always done so in times of great duress. He unleashed a powerful ward to keep the chaos at bay. Zephaniel had great confidence in him, though he worried he may spot him. It is not his job to assist in major battles like these. His duty is to strike down those who hide in shadows. To silently fight for God in the Dark.

He worried Mikha'el may be upset with him being out in the open like this. Technically he isn't to make himself known. It is crucial to have secrecy and the element of surprise in his work. Which is why he was allowed to roam the mortal plane at any time. In fact they highly recommend he spends little time in Heaven. Still, he could not ignore what is occurring here. Besides any demons that may have been here must have left. Or at the very least well hidden. With the amount of evil energy the Blood King is emitting, he would have no luck sensing a demon in all this mess.

It was then the ward broke and the situation grew worse. A new wave of evil has risen, and more spawns from the Boiling River. To call upon such wicked power, is to be like a Demon Lord. He then harkened the Archangel's call. Just like in the days of yore, Mikha'el's speeches always rallied the troops of both Heaven and Man alike. He was glad they were empowered and hopefully they will charge with invigorated strength. That they may smite this evil that has flooded on the mortal plane. He had not payed much attention, but upon the rooftop of where this started, he could see a few individuals upon there. For the most part they seemed to fight The Blood King head on. But appear to be losing. He worried for them, but the warriors seem very skilled. Though it seems The Blood King is greater. He saw the other forces containing and saving more lives. He considered entering the fray, but direct assaults are not his specialty. Though the circumstances as they are, may make it difficult to approach covertly. Perhaps Mikha'el will try his hand? For now Zephaniel lept off the rooftops and entered the streets once again.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Terran Marine Command Character Portrait: Alucard Character Portrait: The National Police Agency Character Portrait: Kristen Leon Character Portrait: The Invictus Character Portrait: Arya Sloane Character Portrait: Paragon Character Portrait: Istzyr Baenval Character Portrait: Mikha'el Character Portrait: Arden Maximoff Character Portrait: Zephaniel Character Portrait: Vicar
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

#, as written by Gasmask
Vicar wasn't as speedy as the two freakishly powerful gods, his arms struggling to scamper across the roofs, lashing out with his legs until he caught up with them. The priest looked upon his savior with despair upon his permanent scowl. If the Paragon died, so would he, a man with nothing to lose.

The missionary frowned underneath his helmet, checking his chest for the only counter to the absurd amount of power this creature had, a pair of frag grenades strapped to his vest. "Though you, I found purpose." Vicar screamed, spittle and blood splattering the concrete roof, waving his mace into the air and charged forward.

Vicar dropped his mace, throwing it to the ground with a loud clatter, finger glancing across the pin of one of the grenades, careful not to pull the pin as he swung himself forward to grab Alucard by the chin with one hand and deposit the now live grenade into his mouth.

There was no phrase to scream, no religion to preach, no psalm that fit this matyrdom.

"DIE, DIE, DIE."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Terran Marine Command Character Portrait: Alucard Character Portrait: The National Police Agency Character Portrait: Kristen Leon Character Portrait: The Invictus Character Portrait: Arya Sloane Character Portrait: Paragon Character Portrait: Dyew Character Portrait: Varden Expeditionary Theater Character Portrait: Istzyr Baenval Character Portrait: Mikha'el Character Portrait: Arden Maximoff Character Portrait: Zephaniel Character Portrait: Vicar
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

#, as written by Varden
The stranger standing upon the roof top and watching the fight ensue between Vladimar, Paragon, and Vicar had not budged until this moment. He had not spoke or acted in any hostile way to anyone upon the roof or on the ground. The only warning of his impending action was the cracking of the reinforced cement slab upon which they stood. His rear right foot pivoted and his weight shifted.

The sound of the chain held in his right hand, crystal wind chimes, beauty amid the slaughter. His steely eyes traced Paragon's form and each point of the pentagram before returning to the servant of the moon, Vladimar, and then Vicar as the mortal man attempted to grapple with the Blood King and shove a grenade down his throat.

-------------------------


Five interceptor drones were the first of the Varden units to arrive. Heavy rail-gun fire started to turn the mass of flesh, chaos and blood into exploded refuse and craters as each drone fired on its initial pass and spun away. The air vibrated as windows burst and teeth chattered in skulls, both living and dead with the power of each automatic burst. It sounded more like terrible chainsaws and less like weapons' fire.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Terran Marine Command Character Portrait: Alucard Character Portrait: The National Police Agency Character Portrait: Kristen Leon Character Portrait: The Invictus Character Portrait: Arya Sloane Character Portrait: Paragon Character Portrait: Dyew Character Portrait: Varden Expeditionary Theater Character Portrait: Istzyr Baenval Character Portrait: Mikha'el Character Portrait: Arden Maximoff Character Portrait: Zephaniel Character Portrait: Vicar
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

Vladimar laughed cruelly as Paragon collapsed in the center of the pentagram. He slammed his boot onto his chest while he stretched out his hand. The vampire king attempted to catch Vicar by the throat as he lunged. He would then slam the human onto the broken body of Paragon before attempting to thrust his blade through both of their bellies. His runeblade, Sangentis the Blood Drinker, pierced flesh, soul, and the focal point of the rune. Vladimar twisted the sword like a great key in the enchanted stone. A cage of chaotic lightning surrounded the Blood King as the pentagram resonated with a hellish glow. It burned like a crimson spotlight stretching into the sky, heralding an ill omen. Each of the impaled human sacrifices screamed and writhed in agony as the energies multiplied. The blood drained from their bodies and filled the crevices of the massive rune.

"Your blood shall open the gate..." he said. "and your life essence will be clay to be molded like steel in the furnace of Hell!"

----

Meanwhile, Mikha'el flew at the helm of the Terran guard. His sword shined like the sun as it cleaved through the summoned spirits and demons by the hundreds with the full wrath of Heaven. Darkness fled from the tongues of golden flame that ignited across the ground in his presence. He lashed out with divine fury as he defended the humans.

"Arise, shine," he cried above the battle field, "for your light has come, and the glory of Adonai has risen upon you! For behold, darkness shall cover the earth, and thick darkness the peoples; but Adonai will arise and His glory will be seen! Be strong and courageous. Do not be frightened and do not be dismayed, for Adonai Elohim is with you wherever you go!"

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Terran Marine Command Character Portrait: Alucard Character Portrait: The National Police Agency Character Portrait: Kristen Leon Character Portrait: The Invictus Character Portrait: Arya Sloane Character Portrait: Paragon Character Portrait: Dyew Character Portrait: Varden Expeditionary Theater Character Portrait: Istzyr Baenval Character Portrait: Mikha'el Character Portrait: Arden Maximoff Character Portrait: Zephaniel Character Portrait: Vicar
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

#, as written by Nemo
Paragon groaned as he felt Vicar's body slam into his own. He smelled the musky scent of sweat mingled with flesh. Human flesh. A mortal man...

He saw the glaring red of the blade flash above them both; felt the hellish pulse of chaos resonate inside the unholy sword. In a few moments, it would impale them both, sending a shockwave of nefarious energy through both of their bodies. He might survive it. Perhaps. He had the tools, the medicine...

...but the man? No. Not a chance. He had no armor like his. No shields. No defensive mechanisms. Sangentis would tear through him with viscous glee and strip his very soul from his flesh... he would die in agony.. he would die undefended...

"NO!" he roared, mustering his strength and pouring the whole of his being into one last blurring movement. With incredible speed, Paragon would attempt to throw Vicar off of his body just as the blade was coming down. The sword would meet only one of its intended victims, slicing through Paragon's side and sticking him to the ground. Blood poured from the wound in rivers. Red blood. Warm blood.

And as Paragon lay beneath Vladimar's sword, bleeding, beaten and broken, he looked up at the vampire king from beneath the hem of his mask with mysterious intent. He might have been smiling.

"...now... you're mine..." he hushed, his fists clenching. Suddenly, the pentagram surrounding them began to glow; a soft lunar white above the glaring red of Vladimar's previous spell. Markings began to take shape around the triangles; strange shapes and symbols took form. The wilted rose. The evening star. The crescent moon.

Perhaps most interesting was the shape of the pentragram as a whole. Paragon had re-traced the entire spell circle in his fight with Vladimar, but he'd added another triangle to the end of the star. A hexegram. A summoning tool. A world-bridge. Paragon hadn't manipulated or stopped Vladimar's spell, but had simply built his own atop it, using the chaotic energies resonating from the roof as a foundation. Now the symbol glared with furious power, feeding off of Vladimar's darkness, empowering itself with the very sustenance of his own evil authority...

And then all at once, it activated. The spell finalized, the glowing energy spiraling around the four figures and trying to send them all away... attempting to whisk them to...

...someplace else...

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Terran Marine Command Character Portrait: Alucard Character Portrait: The National Police Agency Character Portrait: The Invictus Character Portrait: Arya Sloane Character Portrait: Paragon Character Portrait: Dyew Character Portrait: Istzyr Baenval Character Portrait: Mikha'el Character Portrait: Arden Maximoff Character Portrait: Zephaniel Character Portrait: Vicar
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

After the Blood King was whisked away, the forces of his corruption seemed to die off. With the source being uprooted, much of the chaos began to fade away. As if it was water going down a drain. The aftermath of that gruesome assault was apparent. Building ruined and the streets was littered with the corpses of those slain in battle. Still the efforts of the mortals managed to clean up this unsightly mess. It would seem for now, evil has been diverted.

He knew not where the fearsome Vladimar was spirited away too. But at this moment it's beyond his problems. He can only hope that maybe, the Blood King was defeated elsewhere. In the meantime, the city seemed to clear from it's demonic pollution. Zephaniel could now better sense evil forces on a much more individual level. Though the threat he sought to kill has fled the city during the Blood King's attack. For now Wing City is relatively safe, at least from demonic forces. Still there is much work to be done as the angelic assassin retreated into secrecy.

The setting changes from Wing City to Cursed Wood

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Risika Character Portrait: Maurana Character Portrait: Istzyr Baenval Character Portrait: Meghan Kinsington
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

A thumping of horse hooves sounded from a small section of the thick woods. The fog was thick enough, the woman who sat atop was barely visible. Her cloak concealed her entirely, perhaps from the eye.

Maurana had been sitting for a while. Contemplating whether or not she should venture into Verinotte again. The last time, hadn't exactly gone well. Though she couldn't stand the fact that her nemesis was so close in distance, yet so far out of reach. She couldn't, no, wouldn't let the laws of the locals from her keeping what was hers. While she crouched, hidden, in her panther form, at the base of a tree, her senses went into alarm. A tantalizing smell trickled her nostrils, once again, there were humans traveling into the supernatural city. 'How cute, she's comfortable with her surroundings. And alone...?'

Maurana took off alongside the horse, staying hidden well enough to go unnoticed by the girl. The horse, however, must have felt the vibrations of her padded feet atop the dead leaves. It came to a stop, rather abruptly. The woman had to hold on to its' mane in order to keep from flying over its' head. This caused her nerves to rattle, she looked to her left, and right, pulling a dagger from her satchel. "Whoever's out there... I'm armed, and also under the protection of.." She was cut off by the sight of yellow eyes leaping towards her. Over the horse's head, it's giant paw came into contact with her shoulder, knocking her down and off of the horse. Naturally, the horse went into a frenzy, and it didn't take but a growl from Maurana to send it running on into Verinotte.

The woman, however, was frightened past her limit. She was frozen, on the ground, with her dagger pointed toward the animal. Maurana grew excited by the sound of her heartbeat quickening. How thrilling a prey's reaction could be. As she got closer to the woman, she shifted her form. Standing on her feet now, she daunted the girl, "Afraid of the big black cat?" The woman trembled, but found her footing. Standing, she tried to reason with Maurana. "P-Please, I'm sorry to trespass, this was simply the quickest route into the Hollow... I-I.." Maurana cut her off, "Oh these aren't my grounds deary, but they aren't yours either? How nice, visitor. You must stop by the Piata, they have the best produce!" Before she even said the last word, she was behind the woman, with her hand wrapped around her neck, and her knifed hand within her clutch.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Risika Character Portrait: Maurana Character Portrait: Istzyr Baenval Character Portrait: Meghan Kinsington
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

#, as written by Marcus
"I would not imagine seeing a lovely hair harmed from that woman's scalp. A dreadful thing really, to worry over something like this, but it begins to wonder if you were so careless before." Those words seemed to escape from the shadows of the area that the small group came to sit only to become backed up by a lone figure who kept to the shadows with much ease. His emerald eyes gleamed out from the darkness as if they were two suns brightly illuminating all before them and never seeming to loose their flicker of life about them.

"I suggest you let the poor child leave and continue on her journey." This time the shadowy figures words were a bit more demanding as a dark skinned elf strode out past the darkness and stood before the two. His attire was almost strangely noble and yet foreign to this land and the cane he held clutched tightly found its home between his arm and body with easy. "My dear what name did your mother grace you with?" His question was soft and directed to the woman who was being clearly held captive by the brute of a beast who was about to learn a lesson or two in manners if she did not remove her hand from the hilt of that blade.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Risika Character Portrait: Maurana Character Portrait: Istzyr Baenval Character Portrait: Meghan Kinsington
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

The woman gasped for her breath, and was unable to speak. Maurana's hold was too tight. "Not much to your imagination, huh?" Maurana smiled to at the intruder. She lightened her grip, "He wants to know your name," She leaned her head down into her prey's face, "Let's give him a name, to remember you by."

"M-Meghan, Kinsington. Please, sir..." Meghan stuttered.

"Shut up!" Maurana snapped, jerking her head. "And what if I don't, elf? Are you going to offer up your blood to sate my thirst?" Her eyes danced with trouble.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Risika Character Portrait: Maurana Character Portrait: Istzyr Baenval Character Portrait: Meghan Kinsington
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

#, as written by Marcus
The Pretender as he was known to some simply smiled like the devil himself as the shadows around him began to shift and meld into something more dangerous. It had not occurred to the lovely woman making demands that this 'elf' had come in as silently as a mid summers breeze though what would be explained from that was two rather sharp metallic wings that seemed to be of a dull black color.

"My blood?" Istzyr chuckled a bit as he mauled over the question a bit more. "Non ma belle petite colombe. Mon sang serait trop forte pour les goûts de vous." His french was perfect as he took a single step forward allowing his wings to become touched by the moonlight above just to vanish in a trail of smoke as if he himself was being dissolved by the light. "No I think that such a thing would not bode well for any of us at this moment. I would hate to see Ms. Kinsington's blood be spilled and spoiled due to such an occasion." The Drow smiled softly and his appearance almost seemed contagious as he continued to move towards the two. His cane now lightly tapping against the ground beneath his feet with every step he took towards the two. "Can you imagine what those within the Hallow would say when they hear of what I came across? A reckoning I would imagine would occur and your head would easily come up and off from those delicate shoulders that you bare so willingly that it almost makes me want to shed a tear."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Risika Character Portrait: Maurana Character Portrait: Istzyr Baenval Character Portrait: Meghan Kinsington
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

"You, my friend, are getting on my last nerve!" Maurana cast the woman to the ground. With a grunt, Meghan scrambled to her feet, and ran. "Let's make this personal, shall we?!" Maurana shifted into her panther form, and bared her fangs, head low to the ground.

A yell from above them both sounded, as Risika, Maurana's immortal sister, landed with a graceful thud between the two of them. Holding up hands to both of them, she first nodded to the Elf, then addressed her sister. "It already is personal, Maurana. You know harming any creature within the Vankoryth's land is against the law, what are you doing here?"

Maurana simply growled and hissed, not showing any sign of backing down while the stranger stood a threat.

"I apologize for my sister if she has offended you in any way, sir." Risika spoke to the man, eying his wings. Perhaps the man didn't notice, but Risika was channeling her calmer nature, and casting it towards him to prevent... whatever it had been they were doing. "I'm not even sure I know what it is she's done, perhaps this can be resolved with words, instead?"

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Risika Character Portrait: Maurana Character Portrait: Istzyr Baenval Character Portrait: Meghan Kinsington
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

#, as written by Marcus
The drow was about to spin out of the way but found another force between them. One that was willing to use words no less and not act like a filthy savage. "So there is something that I can truly respect. The weight of ones words in any situation is worth more than the wealth of a thousand people. I would have you know that my ears are very receptive and willing to hear what it is you offer as a peaceful transaction." The elf simply allowed his glance to go in the direction of the young girl but for now he knew she was safe.

"Your sister here seemed like she needed a good meal but chose rather poorly as to the location and why portion of her thinking. I was luckily able to step in and see to it that the young girl was able to get away. Of course I did not raise my hand against either of them."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Risika Character Portrait: Maurana Character Portrait: Istzyr Baenval Character Portrait: Meghan Kinsington
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

Maurana had wanted Risika to come all along, she grew inpatient as the drow sought out reason to not turn her in for attempted murder. She crept behind Risika, ears and tail down, yet calm. 'However the situation appears, I wouldn't have killed her. She wasn't human, and I've no time for funny blood.' She crossed in front of Risika, speaking privately to her sister. With another look to the drow, she darted into the wood.

Risika smiled, "She's always been a spectacle, you see? It appears to have been a personal matter between the traveler and my sister. Bounty hunters, who knows?" She shrugged a shoulder, but reassured the man, "Thank you though, I'm sure the traveler is grateful for your inquiry. And of course, my sister apologizes for any disturbance or disrespect."

She took steps towards the direction in which the panther and ran, "If you'd like to discuss it further, you can seek me out within the Piata at the gift shop."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Risika Character Portrait: Maurana Character Portrait: Istzyr Baenval Character Portrait: Meghan Kinsington
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

#, as written by Marcus
The drow only could nod at the offer. However he simply turned towards the shadows from which he came and vanished.

The setting changes from Cursed Wood to Wing City Business District

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Istzyr Baenval Character Portrait: Curtis Bennett
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

#, as written by Marcus
The set of events that unfolded within the established building of business could not be described in great detail unless there was a bit of chaos going about it. However instead of the average man walking into the joint a dark skinned elf in refined finery and an even more eccentric looking cane at his side.

"What in the Seven Hells?" Istzyr grumbled something terrible while taking several more steps into the place only to find that he was outgunned and rather hungry.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Istzyr Baenval Character Portrait: Curtis Bennett
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

”Down on the floor now! Speak English! On your belly.” The armed goon that was at the door about to secure that particular door. He aimed his rifle right at the drow. The other three were moving about taking care of business. “Attention everyone, we are not here to harm you, we are not here to steal your money. Your money is federally insured by the government. We are here for the bank’s money. As long as you all cooperate everyone will walk out of here with just their time delayed.” 2 instructed while 3 and 4 were already herding bank tellers out of the counter like clockwork. The manager seemed to be collected.

The Leopard was left almost twiddling his thumbs. His focus returned to the gunman at the entrance and their arrival. Something… lurched for the other deep inside. His eyes glinted from their normal color to an amber feline iris pupils beneath his usual lens. He said… nothing just watching the scene unfold as he paced over.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Istzyr Baenval Character Portrait: Curtis Bennett
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

#, as written by Marcus
"You rude twit." The drow growled and brought his cane across the gunman's face with such speed and power that it would send the man flying if he did not duck or get the hell out of the way right at that instant. "I am a gentleman not some rapscallion you can just order about!" With great haste the drow suddenly created a glob of darkness with a flick of his wrist that encompassed the entire building only to then speed his way through placing well guided strikes with his cane against lackeys number 2, 3, and then finally 4. "Can't we all just relax and let me get what I require without any kind of distraction."

The Drow turned in his magical darkness he created only to then make his way over to the body of the nearest crook and lifted the mans neck just to bite down and begin feeding on the poor fellow. He planned on devouring every single robber in the bank before the people on the inside who could claim their innocence would suspect anything of the sort.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Istzyr Baenval Character Portrait: Curtis Bennett
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

The first thug was knocked off his feet the heavy weight of the gear dragging along the polished stone floors. Two to Four had been at work, three had been zip tying people secure while two and four were negotiating with the bank manager to punch in the code to open the vault. When the blur came at the assorted criminals the Leopard went immediately to work. Curtis felt his blood go hot and went inhumanely fast and fierce.

He lunged at the blur as it moved to collide with Three, steel blades retracting shot out from his finger tips to slice at the drow like hot butter.