01 December 2013
Merlin 3:34 “Pyre & Procession”
Outside the town, two riders approach a wall between the rocks from a trampled dry road among the dry landscape, wearing hoods and lying sick as they ride thrown on their horses, large leather cloaks mask them from the daylight. One of them lowers his leather gauntlet-glove along the side of the horse within shadow, to crumble a large crystalline salt stone, moments later the rolling clouds become a tolling thunder in the distance, the sky begins becoming evening and the men of bellum reveal themselves as Lord Scarlet and Malachi.
As the clouds solidify darkness they remove their hoods and dismount, antebellum magic stirs new thunder, inferred attack becomes when the evening scouts of the vampire encampment see Scarlet. He stands in the road checking his straps and passing his hands over his vestments counting his knives, they each cut their horses in the throats and cup a handful of blood and drink, a vampire rite of war, the horses seem almost calm and prepared for internecine.
Scarlet and Malachi dip clean fingers in bloody palm and adorn themselves with stripes of blood as war paint, they walk to the doors to hear them lock. Nickolas runs along the spines of rooftops, the growing shadows and coming storm begin to afford vampiric predators ever closer to him, his fortune runs short as he is struck by an arrow and eventually three more as others pass by him while he falls on pointed rooftop, pulling the arrows from his body while he falls. The hour of twilight is upon him as the sunset enraged burns a deeply acrimonious red submitting to the storm hour.
Scarlet: “Make me violence soon and loud, deferent parson, haste worth making, we’ve been made for the causes by these, our hopeful lost.”
Scarlet steps and Malachi approaches the doors of the wall between rocks, placing a diamond of jade on a lattice, waving his hand it begins to glow as he too removes, Scarlet shields only his eyes as the doors explode, the shrapnel wounds several within. They enter prepared, the crest divided still poises to fight until the end of time or the end of life divested.
Matteus: “Conquer them or die!”
A bow draws heavy and unleashes at Scarlet who grabs a makeshift shield to catch it, lowering to throw a blade into the archer’s throat with strong pitch, without pause, grabbing the sword from his back and begins to hack and hew and haw his insubordinates.
Pertinacity they see unequal combat from a great cold distance, the dark felons larger and arduously wit, Malachi seems to like the arrows piercing his armor, an explosive alchemy rune flies at the blood warlock, yet explosion bothers him little as he waves the nearing fire into subsiding. He approaches one of his brethren who attempts to summon black magic into a short sword, it burns rife with green fire, but before metal turns the black of ages, he must wield it against Malachi. He is unmatched as the warlock breaks weapons and arms to cut the vampiric throat, reaching around him to tear open the neck, with the other arm reaches into his ribs, and grabs his blackened dying heart to squeeze its final beats and blood, to drink from the fountain of its life.
Malachi: “Admonish a better introduction to death.”
Scarlet: “Look behind you!”
Malachi tosses the body with bloody hands and face and front, with such malice even Scarlet is set aback.
Eyes of whiteness darkened brightness higher sight of lower light ensorcell double visions for Merlin sensing proximity to Troy, and Ana, forthwith wit to the noise and the first fires in the fog, move closely toward the town as it begins to rain.
Merlin: “Ah, a city for these hills, as it rains it needs and I not. Lest are you partial to the rain, ought we to continue?”
Ana: “Better to be wet than wounded, but food for two of me and news from two of you.” (Looks at sky)
Merlin: “Can you make a battle in your midterm?”
Ana: “I will wait for greater fires or stay beyond the mist of war.”
Ana looks to the sky at Troy encircling, causing Merlin to notice, and phoenix-rider duo to land aside the forthcoming battle. Nickolas interned is giving into reincarnation, the lightning strikes and rain weakens as vampires hurry to climb slippery roof and breaking shingles beneath their clumsy haste. Between nearing thunders Nickolas flips to his back in some style of instinct, seeing phoenix above about to rescue him only to turn away as the arrows proliferate the free air space, so the newly resurrected slams a sword onto clay roof tiles and slides the other side of the roof away from his struggling pursuers.
After falling to the ground from roof edge, Nickolas wastes no time escaping the battle, sword in hand hiding behind shadows and slipping thru alleys, leaving many a foe to choose their fates, and when they cross him haste drives hate thrives waste to foe with blade thru major organs and throats to off again be.
Nick’s only way forward is to leave an alley and cross the open street, pausing and waiting and considering the noise, he runs into the lane only to be caught by Matteus in front of him and one lieutenant behind himself. Chaos anarchies twixt combined struggle and anent latched and grasping to kill each other, two against one, for at all times his blade is maim and striking foe one or both the other. Nick puts his sword thru the palm of the lieutenant and stabs it to Matteus’ chest, kicking the hilt into the first thus toppling both, yet they are without fail until Matteus, the rebel king, beheads the lieutenant with a misjudged swing.
An emasculated swathe and the latter become former, unfortunately thrown aside-upon his own blade, Matteus on knees with sword run-thru himself, staring at the blood and shoulders of his decapitated subordinate, as Nick continues to escape again. Fearing the result admixture of vampires and his own blood, Merlin also sneaks thru the blood war, as Matteus extracts the sword and rises again.
Malachi stalks the streets with fiery eyes until surrounded by several enemy kin, the blood of his blades burns until a magical red fog begins to fill the air as he ravages his pseudo betrayers, knifing seven one by one, the spell lifts as they fall poisoned by the red mist. Their open wounds, black edged and unsealing, only further contributing to their poisoning.
Malachi: “I grant thee disgust ye knew not in existence.”
The warlock Malachi walks into black smoke, of dire hatred contempt of joy and peace of these his brethren enemies.
Merlin finds Malachi in the street, Merlin puts a finger to his own lips to signify silence, he points to himself then to the left, he points to Malachi and to the right, and they nod their heads and follow those most separate paths.
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