Insert clever author's note here.
It's a lonely world in a lonely solar system in a Galaxy that, as it turns out, isn't lonely at all. Invaders from another Galaxy have arrived, they are the followers of the Ori. Merciless and uncompromising theirs is a fleet of unstoppable Juggernauts fueled by the will of their power hungry gods. As shadow falls upon the Milky Way as world after world, race after race, is converted or destroyed, a wave of death and corruption heading right towards Earth and it's billions of inhabitants ignorant of the mortal peril they are in. Between them and the Ori forces is Nosgoth, a small planet with merely two continents, only one inhabited by intelligent life. It was a dying, corrupt world long before the Ori even dreamed of a dark dominion in the Milky Way, caught in the grip of an ancient force of destruction and chaos, the final battlefield in a war that waged long before the Ancient Alterans ever fled their Ori brethren.
It is where a lock that holds back a dimension of infinite horrors resides, one planet to save an entire Galaxy from the ravening terrors trapped for so long they dream only of their terrible hungers and revenge against a race long dead. It is a lock is slowly rusting away, and the prisoners it restrains grow restless as they sense their freedom drawing near. The Ori forces crawl across all corners of the planet like a swarm of locusts. They seek to liberate the world from ignorance and damnation, not knowing that the brighter they shine their light the deeper they cast the planet into shadow. Not knowing that in their efforts to heal a broken world and it's broken people that they only marshal the forces of evil bubbling beneath it's surface. No one could have ever believed how much rests on this tiny backwards world cut off from the rest of the Galaxy. No one would ever want to believe the ancient nightmares this planet hides, the dark secret that slithers and burrows and writhes beneath the crust, intertwined with both the ethereal and the physical.
The flame of the Ori grows ever brighter on Nosgoth.
And the shadow it casts grows ever darker.
Sangraal. Orici. Mothership. Priors. Ascended beings.
Kain sifted through all the files relevant to the Ori, ignoring the headache the tiny black font was giving him. His eyes roved over line after line of information, technical reports on the Ori soldier's weapons and tactics, the composition of their armor. Scattered around him were field reports from those who had encountered them in battle. Conquered them. Or been defeated by them. Kain tapped a button on the remote that controlled the screen in front of him and the image changed. It was SGC's file on Adria. She was the biggest threat, and yet there was so little documented information. Kain tapped his black claws against the desk he sat at as the wheels in his head slowly spun. Adria was presumably even more powerful than the Priors who now served under her, and judging from what he had read about them it was quite possible that she could wield power rivaling the Circle of Nine. Certainly placing her above his magical abilities. He read all the way through the file once, then again, then a third time.
He really should confer with SG-1.
Kain leaned back in his chair, pulling himself away from his research for a moment and considering his current position. His temper had gotten away with him, something that seemed to be happening with considerable frequency as of late. While there could be doubt that being trapped in Cheyenne Mountain was not wearing thin on him, he had to ask himself if there were not…other factors influencing his behavior. Kain's mind wandered despite his best efforts to keep it from doing such. He remembered his time hunting vampires, remembered the carnage and destruction they left in their wake. Men hanging from trees, their skins removed only to be sewn back on inside out. Women and children gutted, their guts smeared all over the walls of their simple houses. Limbs removed and shoved down throats, so much blood congealing on the ground that it was possible to step up to one's ankles in some areas. And that was merely what he alone had witnessed. The marauding creatures had been led by a vampire named Clavo, his disciples were all young but well trained in the art of torture and slaughter.
The Clavo incident had been one of the most brutal vampire rampages in recent Nosgothic history. A pack of ten vampires descending from the northern mountains, cutting a bloody swath through the human population. Clavo's brood had split up into three groups, each one intending to in turn to create seven new vampires. At least that was what Clavo had been reported as confessing to the Witch Hunter's who finally defeated and cleansed him in Provance. By then his splinter pack had been twelve members strong and almost forty men died in the ensuing battle. A testament to the dreadful might of the vampire master and his children. Word had not yet reached Kain of the vampiric rampage by the time he ran into the vampire pack near his home. At the time he considered them nothing more than another deadly variety of dark creature and a way to vent his anger. He was unaware of the destruction they had caused throughout the land. It had been a…difficult time to say the least, he had not accepted visitors nor paid much attention to any gossip amongst his servants. His grief had been overwhelming, and only news of a vampire attack on a nearby village had shaken him out of his isolation.
He had taken the head of the first in single combat on the night of the full moon, when her powers would have been at their strongest. While her brothers gorged themselves on the blood of innocents in the village below, he had taken out his anger, guilt, and self loathing on the vampiress as she greedily sucked at the neck stump of a young man she had decapitated. Her death had been slow, messy and loud enough to alert the others to his presence and they fled to the south. He caught up to the other the day before the undead was set to descend upon Vasserbunde. He crept into the beast's lair midday, when the sun was at it's highest point in the sky, and then cut off the vampire's arms and legs, cut open his blood bloated belly and then poured oil into his abdominal cavity before setting the oil alight to watch the hell spawn burn from the inside out. Torturing the inhuman bastard even as he cleansed his filth from the world had been cathartic to say the least. The third was run down by angry peasants on the northern shore of the Lake of Dead and was lowered feet first into the water for his crimes. A fitting end. His heroic destruction of the two vampires had brought him great prestige and swelled his coffers. The ensuing celebration had been enough the ease his pain, or at least numb him with alcohol and sex. The satisfaction of retribution had been eased his grief and allowed him to come to terms with the loss that had plagued him for many months before the hunt had begun.
And now the dark curse tainted his very flesh. He was now one of them. Would he eventfully slid into depravity and evil as they had? How long then, before the curse claimed his soul and devoured what was left of his humanity? Years? Months?
Days?
The Asgard had made no headway, he was sure they would find nothing that could be of any use to him. The Tau'ri doctors and scientists could provide no more answers than the diminutive aliens. If there was any chance he might yet be saved, he knew that it lay on his home planet.
Behind him, Vala snorted loudly in her sleep, startling the vampire. He swung around in the chair to peer down at her in the gloom. Certain she was not yet aware of his presence he turned back to the files. He did not necessarily regret his words to her earlier that day, to him his prodding at her affection for her daughter had been a sensible way to toughen her up for the battle yet to come, but things had…escalated. He knew it was cruel but felt it was necessary, yet he also knew that he had made himself look a fool in front of his allies. He was not yet quite sure where he stood with Vala, having retreated to his room soon after the incident.
His frequent visits to Vala's quarters were a personal weakness he had at first been reluctant to indulge. Kain held no illusions that he had a particular affection for Vala Mal Doran, nor did he find her particularly palatable compared to the other personnel at the base and yet… She had made these simple quarters into her home, they felt distinctly lived in and felt human somehow. They were a reflection of Vala's mortal soul in a way that he appreciated more than he ever could as a living human. In comparison his assigned quarters felt barren and lifeless, cold and mechanical and lacking in any warmth or comfort. Staying there only added to his alienation and anger. Standing idle for two weeks left Kain prone to certain weaknesses he would not have allowed to fester otherwise. He pinched the bridge of his nose as if to dare the oncoming headache he felt to grow stronger, as though it was an enemy he could rebuff with a threat of violence. He had slept a full day's rest four times in two weeks not counting the occasionally dozing every few days. Legend had it that vampires required to sleep in a bed of earth to replenish their supernatural vitality during the day, and he had not swallowed his bride down enough to ask to test that theory. His new state of undeath allowed him to go days without rest but his energy was waning fast. He had not bathed much either, as water was now as acid to his undead flesh. Kain was no dandy, he had gone far longer than a paltry three weeks without bathing before especially while on a campaign but somehow he felt gamy and unclean.
Old pains shot through his mind as he sat in the dark. Scars not physical but mental. Emotional. Yet he remembered to the good times as well as the bad, but they somehow offered no more comfort to him in his sullen state. Thirty long years full of misery and joy and triumph and defeats. Love and hate, disappointments and pride, all these dichotomous things mixed together into the heady potion of his past that was at once painful and intoxicating. Old ghost he thought long ago laid to rest rose up in the darkness, and he almost yearned for Vala's incessant yammering to drown out the static silence. At that thought he grimaced. Perhaps he [I]was[/I] going insane…
"BWAH!" Vala's surprised yap alerted Kain. "Kain!"
"Vala." He said quietly. "Go back to sleep."
"Why are you in my room?" She sounded more alarmed than angry, that at least was a good sign.
"I am researching our enemy. There is so much to learn." He gestured to the files scattered around on the desk. 'Much that was not shared with me when I joined them in battle at the Pillars.' He added mentally, unable to keep the bitterness from souring his expression.
"Yes but why are you in my room? Why aren't you in your room?" Vala asked.
Kain tensed for a moment, ignoring the question before turning back to the papers scattered on her work desk. Although when he found it she had been using it to display various pilfered baubles from across the galaxy and not for actual work.
"You spent time in the Ori galaxy, correct?" He asked, he didn't wait for her answer. "Tell me, what are they like? These followers of Origin?"
Vala shifted her weight and climbed out of bed.
"Not that much different from any other planet full of peasants really. Until you get them started on this Ori stuff though…" Vala shrugged helplessly. "Not much else for me to say really."
"Are they good people?" He asked, flipping through a report that recounted the disastrous battle at the Supergate.
"What?" Vala asked. "No…what part of 'trying to take over the Galaxy' didn't you understand?"
Kain cast the report on the desk, not bothering to read it to it's end. He had read it two times before, not to mention the time he had heard it from the mouth of General Landry himself. Disaster. Death. Defeat. All the things he now embodied as a vampire.
"Would you say that Tomin is a good man?" He asked, unable to keep an edge of impatience out of his voice.
"What?"
"Vala you heard the question. Do you think your husband is a good man?" Kain asked.
"I think…he's confused. I think he's been mislead." She insisted. "I think he's heart broken." She finally added.
"That's not an answer. Is he a good man?" Kain asked coolly.
"He wants to be." Vala said defiantly. "He thinks he is."
"Damn it woman, enough!" He pounded his fist against the table as he rose to his full height. "I don't care what he thinks. I want to know what you think."
"Yes!" She finally shouted. "I think, that despite all the terrible things he's doing, he's a good man with a good heart."
Kain stood and whirled on her.
"And your daughter? What about her?" He insisted.
"She's not my daughter! She's an Ori who hijacked one of my ovaries to hitch a free ride into the Galaxy." Vala shouted.
"You lie!" Kain pointed an accusatory finger into her face. "Your blood flows in her veins and hers in yours! You forget I was once a parent as well, Vala! I know that such bonds are not so easily broken! No matter what the bottom line is your instincts betray you! I saw as much earlier today!"
"What's the point of this Kain? Do you like reminding me of all I've done for the Ori cause?" Vala screamed in his face.
"We're going to kill your family, Vala." Kain said quietly, but his eyes blazed with silvery light and his face was a rictus of aggression. "Your husband. Your daughter. They will die before this war is done. One way or another. Does this fact not bother you? Does it not eat away at your heart of hearts in the dead of night when you have nothing to comfort you but hollow lies?"
"Yes!" She screeched. "Yes you idiot, of course it does! You know it does! Why do you even have to ask? But this is a war and I've chosen my side and I'll stick to it until the end!"
Kain took a step back from her in uncharacteristic retreat but his gaze seemed to soften and his eyes widened from accusatory slits.
"Good. I would have thought you a madwoman otherwise." Kain said flippantly as he sank back down into his chair. "You know what needs to be done. No matter the personal cost." Vala opened her mouth to scream at him again but he held up a silencing hand. "I needed to know for myself, Vala."
Vala plopped back down onto her bed, mouth agape in stunned silence for a moment.
"You still don't trust me do you?" She finally asked.
"I barely even know you." Kain hissed.
"We had sex!" She shouted.
"Come now, Vala. I knew you were a simpleton but I had no idea you were so dense." He said with a snort. "I've made love with many women, it doesn't mean I'm eager to stand alongside them in battle against the Ori."
"Yeah you have a point there." Vala admitted, any residual anger diffusing as her mind hoped from one track to another. "Wait…so I take this to mean that you will be helping us look for the Sangraal?"
Kain chuckled darkly for a moment, but said nothing more.
"For to long, this world had lingered in bosom of darkness. We come bringing a chance for you step out into the light of Their Holy Flame. So that it may burn away all sin and corruption and protect you from all that is evil." The young Prior announced to the gathered people, he had little need to demonstrate his powers here. Already a gifted orator, he had found the people of this city cowering under the yoke of a cruel being. Drawing them into the fold had been so pathetically easy he might pray to forgiveness to the Ori for his sloth. "This city has labored under a lie, drawn under the spell of a sorceress who commands dark forces to bewitch you into serving false gods." He possessed a charisma and power that most Priors took years to cultivate. His voice rumbled with authority as he stood before Avernus Cathedral.
"She had blinded you with petty shows of flashy powers designed to hide the truth of her message! The gods she would have you bow before are false, they bless lower beings with great power so that they may be worshipped for their own selfish gain. But the Ori are benevolent! They give as they receive! Theirs is a message of hope! They give knowledge as freely as they receive worship! And they offer to any who will submit to their teachings that greatest of prizes! Ascension! A chance to join with them in greater enlightenment!"
All at once, the people of Avernus cheered at the words of the Prior as he spun his tale of ascension and enlightenment and glory. They were the newest additions to the Ori's worshippers, ready to fight and die for gods they yet had little understanding of for no other reason than they couldn't be much worse than the gods they served now. They could not be worse than Azimuth. So they cheered, a chorus of joy that lifted up into the sky, burning into the core of heaven. Avernus belonged to the Ori.
Until the massive wooden doors of the Cathedral opened.
The cheering stopped.
The Prior whirled around and motioned to the Ori troops to move to support him should the need arise, but he puffed out his chest and his staff crystal glowed with the power of his righteous fury. Smoke and red light poured from within the titanic building, obscuring whoever-or whatever- was inside.
"So! The Demon Bitch of Avernus finally comes from hiding to face the glory of Their Warriors!" The Prior shouted pompously. "Come then, Heathen Whore of Darkness! Come and-"
"Silence fool." The male voice rumbled from within the Cathedral. "You have spoken enough for one day." Cloaked in red and black robes Mortanius the Necromancer emerged into the daylight, his face sheathed in a bone mask. His eyes black as the void of space.
"How dare you speak to me in such a manner?" The Prior demanded. "I am a Prior of-"
"I know who and what you are little man." The Master of Death growled. "But you are clearly ignorant of me." The Prior opened his mouth to hurl another threat at the Pillar Guardian but the Necromancer cut him off. "I care not for your ignorant prattle, Pawn of False Gods. I have come to deliver a message to every man woman and child of Avernus. Stand aside, or know the wrath of Death himself."
"Death? Death? You speak to me of death, Heretical Scum? There is no death for those who follow the Ori! Only the next stage in enlightenment! We who serve the true gods are immortal, Heathen! But you? You will burn for all time in the Fires of Eternal Torment!" The Prior shouted.
Mortanius was not listening, he was reaching through time and space, coaxing that which he needed from their long slumbers. He whispered, gently, in the way of his profession.
"Kill the warriors. Leave their sorcerer alive. I wish for him to see the folly of his gods before this city burns."
The Prior was furious now, youthful arrogance running away with him. Most other Priors would have long ago engaged the Necromancer in combat, but his rage drowned his reasoning. He fell silent however, when the air around him grew stagnant and chill. He could feel…something beyond his comprehension.
A shrill shriek between a laugh and a scream tore the air between him and his warriors and even he flinched at the piercing noise. A spark of blue energy arced before him and he could see a glimmer of something that was there and yet was not.
"What is this?" He demanded.
"Retribution. The souls of all those you have killed in the futile quest in the name of divine parasites return now from the depths of what you would call the Fire of Eternal Torment." He pointed a withered finger at the Ori Forces in attendance. "They come to take you back with them."
"Lies!" The Prior shouted hysterically, even as something that was there and yet was not wailed and screamed. "Lies! Lies! LIES!" He thrust his staff forward, pointing it towards Mortanius and gathering every ounce of power into the staff's tip, preparing to cast the ball of monumental energy at the Necromancer.
"Prior!" Something hideously screeched as a gray figure swooped down and wrenched the staff from his hands, casting it aside before fading back into intangibility.
"This is a trick!" The Prior shouted, but his previous bravado failed him as his fear and horror crept into his voice. He backed away from Mortanius. "A flimsy illusion."
"Perhaps." The Necromancer mused. "But you will never know the truth."
A death rattle alerted the Prior to his warriors, and he spun around only to see the impossible. Grey and white figures, barely recognizable as humanoid swept down through the air, tearing at the Ori Soldiers. Their weapon's fire went wild, even when they struck home the blue energy bolt fizzled against the spectral creatures, doing not more harm than a splash of water. The warriors were tossed about, dashed against the walls and floor, limbs ripped off as they were dragged along. Ghosts. Spirits. Wraiths. Drawn back into the mortal realm by the Guardian of Death to do his biding and avenge themselves against their murderers.
The crowd was screaming in horror and fear as they realized to late their mistake in accepting Origin into their hearts. They knew instinctively that the blood bath they were witnessing was not but a taste of their fate yet to come. The Prior reached out, trying to channel his powers without his staff, but as he did so one of the figures swooped down upon him and slammed both clawed hands into his chest. A feeling of icy cold spread through his torso, radiating out from where the unfettered soul touched him as the spirit shoved him along and tossed him to the ground. It loomed above him as he lay on his back for a moment, hovering in midair.
"Prior!" It howled as it hovered over him, one claw-like hand raised up, it's face veiled by silver mist and long flowing locks of white hair. Abruptly it paused however, looking to gaze up at the towering figure above it.
Mortanius shook his head, and with a cry of frustration the spirit withdrew, retreating back into the slaughter as it's cries were lost in the cacophony of vengeful spirits. Maortanius regarded the Prior for a moment before walking past him, he moved easily through the melee not flinching for a moment as death reigned around him. He was not just a necromancer, but the necromancer. He had seen it all before, and he would see it many times again before his end came. Mortanius stood before the assembled people as they fell to their knees and begged him for mercy. No mercy would be shown, as much as it pained him to admit it. He may have been a master of death, but the pointless slaughter that would soon follow pained his heart and gave him pause.
He looked out at the screaming masses, see women and children. Innocents. Stupid innocents drawn in by the preening of a pompous ass but they had slaved under the madness of Azimuth for so long he could hardly blame them for leaping at the first offer of freedom. Cruel though the Ori were they far less insane and fickle than the Lady of Avernus. Still, he had to appear to be loyal to the current Circle for as long as possible. But their madness was deepening, the arrival of the Ori had unhinged many of the members completely. He had not heard anything from Bane and Dejule, and their absence unnerved him, and Moebius thought they could ally themselves with the Ori forces by paying lip service to the teachings of their religion. Mortanius repressed the urge to sigh in disgust. He had made many sacrifices in his long quest to redeem the Circle and himself, both personal and spiritual and of course literal. He had done terrible things…all in the name of a better future.
But he had never condemned an entire city to a ugly death however.
"People of Avernus. You have betrayed your mistress and your gods with this heresy! For this you must suffer!" He announced, spreading his arms wide. "You will watch as all you love crumbles around you!" He continued on for some time, all fire and brimstone. Promising death, destruction, terrible fates all while hiding his disgust for Azimuth and the Circle. That had been the way of it for many years, pretending to slip with the others into debauchery and evil while engineering the downfall of the Circle. Fighting Nupraptor's madness…and the corruption of the Hylden.
"The end comes soon!" He shouted, his voice rising into hysteria. "For all of you! Soon this world will be cleansed of your taint!"
He was not speaking to the assembled wretches.
Above them, the sky seemed to crack and wither revealing a shroud of red and orange mist. Behind him he felt the electrical surge of power that was the demon dimension bleeding into the mortal world. The humans below wailed in fear and desperation as they crawled over each other to beg for forgiveness that would not be granted by the insane bitch and should not have to be asked for in the first place. Sickness clawed in Moebius' gut as he watched the panic unfold but he turned and walked away knowing there was nothing else to do. Azimuth was not his to end, her fate was to die at Kain's hand.
He did not notice the Prior until he was cast off his feet by an invisible force.
"Undue whatever foul magics you have cast over this city, or feel the wrath of the Ori!" He screamed in rage as his staff shuddered in his hands.
Mortanius chuckled to himself as he rose to his feet, brushing dust off his robes.
"It is not my doing. I am but a messenger." He stood straight, towering over the Prior as he turned to face him. "Killing me will solve nothing. Nor will I kill you. I want you to watch. Watch what happens to these people, these followers of Origin…because of you. Watch as the Ori do nothing to help their followers. As hell itself claims this city as it's own."
"This city belongs to the Ori!" The Prior screamed again in fury as he focused his anger into power and fired a blast of energy towards the Necromancer. Mortanius raised a hand and tendrils of inky black shadow burst forth from the ground at his feet and wrapped him in a protective embrace moments before the red ray of energy stuck home. The beam was nullified by his protective aegis. The fiery red blast washed around the shield of darkness, flowing over it like water, seeking any way through to it's wearer but it could not penetrate Mortanius' magic. He was the oldest member of The Circle besides Moebius, and had existed for thousands of years. Many considered him the most powerful Sorcerer in all of Nosgoth and in his thousands of years of existence he had been in more than one battle with more than one kind of enemy. The Prior before him was an untested youth compared to him, and his inexperience shined through as his attack faded.
"No." Mortanius intoned as his shield evaporated. "It belongs to them." He gestured towards the open doors of the Cathedral as something huge emerged, smashing through the stone archway as it squeezed it's bulk through.
Snorting flame as it stretched to it's full twenty foot height. It swung it's horned head to the left, then to the right. Watching the horrified humans as it's brothers and lesser cousins emerged from the place they had been summoned. It licked it's chops it considered the feast before it. Suddenly it roared in pain and surprise as a blast of red energy struck it in the gut, doubling it over and driving it back a step. It rose to it's full height once more as the pain subsided, shaking itself like a dog as the smoldering wound on it's belly closed up. It's eyes, twin orbs of molten lava that wept fiery tears, found the one who had struck it.
The demon roared.
The Prior screamed.
Kain stood in the gate room beside SG-1, watching the Stargate activate, the unstable vortex erupting and subsiding.
"You ready?" Mitchell asked him.
The vampire turned to him, raising a single eyebrow.
"Are you?"
Turning away, he lead the team from their world into his.
Now here's a chapter I'm actually kind of happy with. Right now I'm playing through Blood Omen again to familiarize myself with the storyline and I just bought the tenth season of SG-1. Always open to thoughts, especially regarding characterization.