Legacy of Vanstrom

by Shadow-Cipher

Vanstrom Klause is at it again, trying to ruin young Vampyric Lady Shadow's existence. Read on as he tries his hardest to ruin any existence she has within the Vampyric land of Morytania and pull any of her friends into his circle of chaos.

7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7: Skryté Deti
The Hidden Children

Now that Shadow was out of the way, Vanstrom could focus on the important tasks at hand. He completely ignored the helpless Vampyre as she struggled valiantly in her binds, trying to fight against the potion which drained her energy and snap the rope to free herself. Usually, snapping a rope would be no difficulty, be it made of even the toughest yak's hair. Unfortunately, every second the lethal potion rubbed against her skin was every second she could feel her energy draining from her; that, combined with the garlic juice trickling down her throat every time she bit down hatefully on the gag, weakened her, and made her physically weaker then even a mere human.
Vanstrom had to wonder if his other guard had any success with the Skryté Deti and their representative. Had he cracked out of his shell just enough to get him their leader's attention? Vanstrom wanted to say he would wring his neck if he failed, but he knew to calm his anger, for the Skryté Deti were a difficult group for anyone to get the attention of, even Vampyre nobility.
The guard that remained wandered past Shadow, ignoring her in her entirety, and sauntered near Vanstrom. Upon reaching Vanstrom, and falling into an awkward state of absolutely stillness, he inquired, "Is something on your mind, Lord Vanstrom?"
When Shadow heard the guard referring to Vanstrom as a Lord, a title which was only deemed worthy for Lord Drakan under his say so, she began to scream boisterously from under her gag, breaking into a childish fit in a failed attempt to tell off Vanstrom for daring to be dubbed with such a title, for she knew he had told his guard to refer to him as so. She also ranted at the guard, despite her words being muffled by her gag, for he was ignorant enough to submit to Vanstrom's demand. The two of them turned head upon Shadow's fitful figure, curiosity and uncertainty flickering in both of their eyes. "What's she throwing a tantrum over?" Vanstrom finally asked, motioning to Shadow thrashing about below him.
At first, the guard was unsure of how to reply, for he did not know what would bother her so much that she would be willing to waste her energy and time attempting to scream over her gag to get her point across. Initially shrugging, the guard eventually turned to Vanstrom, looking away from Shadow, and guessing, "Perhaps she doesn't like me calling you Lord Vanstrom."
Shadow huffed loudly, which was about the only verbal cue she could get across to the two of them. Vanstrom must have accepted that as her agreement, which was true anyways, for he looked down upon her and yelled, "Get over it!" Without warning or reason to do so, Vanstrom suddenly kicked Shadow harshly, and the guard could see the minor pain and slight fear flickering in her eyes. The guard, however, made absolutely no reaction, simply observing, as Vanstrom abused Shadow. "I'll tell my bodyguard to call me whatever I so please. You're in no position to be arguing that." Once more did he strike her, this time slashing across her eyes. Shadow shuddered from the discomforting feeling of being struck and mistreated, but it had worked as Vanstrom had planned for, a slight tear in her eye, Shadow calmed down, afraid of being chastised by Vanstrom once more.
For a moment, there was an awkward silence shared between Vanstrom and his guard, for the two had completely forgotten what exactly it was they were speaking of previously. Vanstrom had been so interested in the verbal and physical abuse he had been delivering to Shadow that he hadn't even entirely recalled the guard asking him what was on his mind. Eventually, he did recall it.
"Oh, yes…" Vanstrom muttered as the thought returned to his mind, though he tilted his head a little. Despite how much easier he found it to think without Shadow throwing a muffled fit below them, Vanstrom still found train of thought wasn't quite running on track tonight. "I was just wondering how my other bodyguard was doing getting us a meeting with the Skryté Deti, that is all. I figured that they of all people would know exactly how I should proceed with ridding myself of that little monster, and I also figured they wouldn't mind what I had to offer them, as I'm sure they would be quite interested in a stone that summons an ancient dragon."
Anger washed through Shadow as Vanstrom brought into clear view a dark looking stone, appearing almost crystalline. She instantly recognized it, for that was her Dusk Stone. Shadow knew something felt out of place, and it occurred to her that Vanstrom must have raised her room and stole the Dusk Stone while she was drinking blood downstairs.
Once more did Shadow break into a fit, this time attempting to yell at Vanstrom for stealing her stone. She struggled against her binds once more, though feeling like she was making even less progress then the previous time, for the potion and garlic juice were both doing their job of weakening her quite well. Nonetheless, she kept trying, digging her pointed teeth into the handkerchief in hopes of tearing it, only to find she was unable of doing so. She refused to quit.
Vanstrom glared down upon Shadow, certain that he had shown her well enough the first time what happened when she threw these nonsensical little fits of hers. Nonchalantly did Vanstrom walk around Shadow's backside, and Shadow attempted to observe, her neck craning to follow his movements. She gasped inwardly as Vanstrom abruptly kicked her in the back, knocking her flat on the ground on her stomach. Shadow whimpered pathetically, a sound which was actually able to escape past her gag. She could feel pain rushing through her body as Vanstrom dug his shoe into her back, deeper, and deeper, tormenting her every second. "Why don't you shut up?" Vanstrom bent over, positioning his face very near her own, which was absolutely ridden with terror. "You know, I'm pretty sure we already went through this a minute ago. I'm the captor, you're the capture; you're supposed to keep quiet and obey me. Unless you'd like to feel what it's like to have your bones snapped one by one." Tears rushed from Shadow's eyes as Vanstrom pushed his foot deeper into her back. Usually, her wings would've barred the damage, but he was pushing past them, making certain they could not act as a barrier for the damage which he was inflicting upon her. "I could start by crushing your ribs… or your spine. You're a spineless little cretin anyways, so it would be fitting, don't you think?"
Shadow fearfully shook her head, for she had no desire to have her bones broken, even if they would heal. In fact, them healing was probably the worst thing they could do, for she would not put it past Vanstrom to simply re-break them every time they healed themselves. She attempted to tell him no, to stop, anything to cease his torture, but the words would not break past her gag.
"Hmm?" Vanstrom smirked, tilting his head as if attempting to make out her words. "I can't hear a word you're saying, darling. You'll have to speak up!" He laughed cruelly, now verbally tormenting her once more. His joy quickly faded, and once more returned that chilling pitiless tone he was previously using on her. "Now, are you going to be good?"
As much as Shadow wanted to fight back, to tell him where he could put his 'I'm superior to you' attitude, she inwardly realized that she was in no position to be doing so, for Vanstrom had her trapped in a never ending loop. Every time she fought back, he retorted with vengeance, and Shadow found her powers diminishing, and she was unable to endure his torment much longer. Noting this, Shadow timidly nodded at Vanstrom.
Vanstrom lowered himself a little more, placing his hand upon Shadow's head. His head shifted a little bit more to the side, and, feeling like it was his job to torment Shadow, to make her act like his obedient little pet, Vanstrom asked, "Are you going to defy me anymore? For if you do, I'll have to get rough with you, just as I did before."
Reluctantly, Shadow shook her head at Vanstrom, as much as it tormented her to submit to him so easily. However, she realized what little she could do, for she was already bound and gagged, nothing more then a squirming punch bag for Vanstrom to thrash upon at will. Though she was uncertain if showing fealty towards Vanstrom was really going to stop the abuse, it was the only road she could think to take for now, and thus she was forced to take it with whatever honor she had left.
"Good girl." Vanstrom said with a smile, raising his head up a little so he wasn't so close to her face. Shadow struggled to sit up once more, feeling uncomfortable sprawled out on the floor like some sort of animal pelt. She grew tense as she could feel Vanstrom's fingers gentle stroking her head, the very tips softly passing over her as if she were some sort of pet, a puppy to be stroked. She was unsure how to react, what she was supposed to make of Vanstrom caressing her head like so. "Keep that up, and we'll get along wonderfully… until I can be-rid of you for good."
Shadow turned her head away as Vanstrom rose, wandering past her as if she didn't even exist any longer. She didn't want him to see her cry, for she knew her tears would only serve as another incentive for Vanstrom to provoke her, another format in which he could torture her more then he already had. Her head already turned away, she also lowered it, trying to hide the wetness under her eyes, and the way it trickled finely down her face, portraying the sense of hopelessness which washed over her like a sweeping, yet passive, wave at sea. She just didn't know what to do, and as she sat upon the ground, no longer having the energy to struggle against the ropes that bound her, she wondered if she would ever be able to combat Vanstrom properly. She had given it her all tonight, and she really thought she had a chance at taking him down, but even as it appeared she wasn't doing half bad, Vanstrom turned the tables on her, taking advantage of a pathetic weakness she had and taking her down with it.
"I wish to return to Canifis to see if he has made any progress. If not, maybe the Banshee will listen to me instead." Vanstrom abruptly stated towards his guard, taking no notice, nor care, of Shadow sobbing soundlessly in the background. "You shall deal with Shadow. Just make certain she doesn't try anything." He sneered in her direction and coyly added, "Though I doubt she would."
The guard, who was already standing somewhat near Shadow in the first place, nudged her, though not as harshly as Vanstrom probably would have. Shadow glanced up dejectedly upon him, taking a minute to realize he wanted her to move. Without even saying a word to her, Shadow quickly got the hint, tiredly rising to her feet.
The group of three passed back through the Haunted Woods, returning the way from which Shadow had initially came. Shadow wasn't quite sure, she thought that perhaps the guard was being gentle with her, more then Vanstrom would've liked him too, for perhaps, somewhere deep within, he felt bad for her. Vanstrom hardly even noticed what those two were doing. He would occasionally throw a glance over his shoulder to make certain Shadow was obediently following, but otherwise appeared to care less what was occurring behind him. Save for being bound and gagged by Vanstrom, Shadow actually found this journey more comforting then the first time, for as the rain had almost entirely let up since her departure, there weren't as many puddles of mud, nor leeches wallowing in the mud. This time around, Shadow's foot only fell into the mud once, and she was able to lurch it out before Vanstrom glanced back upon them, for she doubted he would be as understanding as the guard was. Shadow hadn't a clue who in the name of Zamorak the Skryté Deti were, or what exactly they had to do with her, but she figured they couldn't be good news if Vanstrom was getting involved with them. Shadow noticed the way Vanstrom scoured the outside of Canifis, not only avoiding the main square, but even making certain not to pass by Mazchna, or anyone else that could breathe and think for themselves.
Eventually, Vanstrom came to a stop, gazing into the main square of the little village of Canifis, where the Werewolves were a trifle more active then when he had last been in town. Naturally, for it was only a natural reaction that they be happier believing Vanstrom had left their town. He realized instantly the displeasure he brought the Werewolves… he brought many people, actually. He liked it that way, though. He liked knowing that people were afraid of him, for those who feared someone usually made a habit of keeping their grubby nose out of said person's business.
Vanstrom's ears flicked as he could hear approaching footsteps, someone who had spotted him and was approaching him. For a fraction of a moment, panic washed through Vanstrom, for he had preferred to remain unspotted as he scoured back to Canifis, not wishing to raise any suspicions on why he arrived so quickly after just having left. He was able to calm himself, though, for he eventually realized the someone who had spotted him was only his guard-the one he left in Canifis, not the one guiding Shadow-coming to meet up with him. Vanstrom smiled to himself as he saw who was trailing his guard, a rather gentle looking Banshee.
The two stopped in front of Vanstrom, neither speaking at first. The guard, who still refused to talk to either of the Vampyre due to his status, remained as silent as ever. See, Vanstrom enjoyed life on the highest tier; the guard currently traveling with him, the only who always spoke, was on the high tier, below Vanstrom, but not by much; his other guard, however, was only on the middle tier, and being one tier below his fellow guard and two below his master, that guard always felt as if it was his place to be quiet, and never to speak to or when around Vanstrom and his other guard. Even when Vanstrom spoke directly to his silent little guard, he still refused to reply. That awkward silence he created made the relationship between Vanstrom's guards rather strained, for they never spoke with one another, always staring silently, hopefully awaiting something more desirable to occur.
"Are you Vanstrom Klause?" the Banshee finally spoke up, holding her hands nervously behind her partially transparent back as she spoke, appearing a little timid in his presence. She looked straight at Vanstrom when she spoke, despite how quietly and nervously she had spoken.
Vanstrom, realizing he was being spoken to, responded to the Banshee by saying, "Yes, that would be I." He said nothing more to her, for he was unsure whether she was meeting with him because the Skryté Deti had decided to speak with him or just to inform him they were unable and he didn't want to speak under the incorrect assumption.
The Banshee attempted to smile in a friendly fashion towards Vanstrom, but was obviously thrown off by him, unnerved by the dark aura which always surrounded him, thus her smile quickly faded into monotone. "Your friend here told me about your situation. He also told me about that stone, though he refused to tell me what kind of stone it was. Regardless, I spoke with Lucien about your interesting circumstances and he said he was willing to meet with you, though he mentioned that he preferred you made sure you had the captive spoken of before arriving, as it will make his deduction easier." Before Vanstrom could respond, she quickly added, "I'm Marcy, by the way, representative of the Skryté Deti and a scout for possible clients, but I guess you already knew that." She bowed, and though a handshake would've been more proper, Vanstrom was intelligent enough to see that would not be possible. "If you'll come with me, I'll take you to Lucien."
Vanstrom simply nodded at Marcy, not speaking a single word. She understood, however, and smiled slightly to him, turning around to guide him. When she moved, she floated higher in the air then usual, although not much higher then she was already hovering. Vanstrom subtly nodded upon his guard, who was idly standing next to Shadow, awaiting for something to happen. His other guard was still standing near Marcy, and almost followed her before suddenly dashing back beside Vanstrom. When Vanstrom signaled his guard to follow him, they did so without any arguments whatsoever. The group walked in a near single file line, Marcy in the front guiding the group, Vanstrom directly behind her, Shadow being forced to follow behind him, and the two guard walking side by side in the back, making certain Shadow walked where she was supposed to and nowhere else.
Marcy lead them to a very tall and mysterious tower, who's shadow lurked over the group of four with a deep sense of foreboding. Vanstrom tilted his head upwards, attempting to see over the top of the building, but to no avail, the tower was like a skyscraper, and it danced with pride into the sky, blackening the view of anything behind it. Just looking up and seeing the top of the tower looming above you was already quite the sight to behold. Vanstrom lowered his head, keeping quietly to himself. This was a building known as the Slayer Tower. Vanstrom knew that, Shadow knew that… who hadn't heard of this astounding building? However, what made no sense to Vanstrom was why Marcy led them here; even less sense was found in the fact that she wandered around the back of the tower, for no back entrance existed.
"I'm supposed to hide this from you." Marcy admitted timidly, suddenly turning back to face the group following her. "Lucien doesn't want anyone knowing where we're keeping base at just in case something goes wrong… but I can trust you not to say anything, can't I? You won't return to this base without a good reason…"
Vanstrom smiled upon her, a smile that, though utterly creepy, was supposed to be comforting to the anxious little Banshee. "Why, of course." Vanstrom politely replied. "You have my word. I shall not return to your base unless there is an absolutely perfect reason to do so." He shot a glare upon Shadow, who had returning to struggling in her binds a little, upon adding, "I always keep my promises."
Marcy's tail swung slightly, as if it were a lolling pendulum. "I hope so." she muttered, seemingly to shrink a few sizes as timidity took over her. "Well, since a lot of us come from an area in or near the Slayer Tower, Lucien thought we'd feel most at home around here. However, he didn't want to be surrounded by the infernal monsters inside, so he instead dug underneath the tower. Our base exists under here. I ask that you be careful, for the pillars in our base are actually the foundation of the Slayer Tower. Snap the wrong one and we could all pay."
As Marcy explained that, Vanstrom played a real of such an event in his head. First, he played it as if he were being crushed. He would survive, no doubt, but it would not be a fun experience, and he grimaced imagining such a thing. His mind, thereupon, swayed to picture Shadow, still struggling to free herself, being crushed under the foundation of the Slayer Tower. Alas, she would probably live too, but she would be stuck under there, and it would hurt her for months to come. His grimace faded, being replaced with a cheerful smile as he imagined such an event occurring.
Meanwhile, Marcy was sweeping away a little dirt with her tail, revealing a trap door which had even managed to escape Vanstrom's powerful eyes. Dirt settled quickly in Morytania, and it settled in large clumps and dusty piles too. It shouldn't come as a surprise that dust was able to mask the trap door to their base. Her tail wrapped around the handle, and Vanstrom had to admit he was a bit shocked that she was able to physically touch the door. Her tail curled up, and with it, came the door, squealing loudly as it opened. "This way, if you will." Marcy motioned.
Vanstrom wasted no time in departing down the murky entrance into the unknown. Shadow froze dead in her tracks, for even though Marcy seemed nice enough, she was terrified to meet whatever was down there, especially if it had voluntarily accepted a meeting with Vanstrom. If it… whatever it was exactly… was able to willingly stand in Vanstrom's presence and not feel some sense of mortal terror, it had to be something horrifying, something Shadow had no fancy in meeting. Unfortunately for her, she could tell she was being given no choice. One of the guards took his axe and pushed it lightly against the back of her head. She tripped forward a little, startled by the feeling of a blade against her head, but hastened her pace as he pushed the bladed weapon against her more violently, clearly ready to dig through her skull if he had to. Timidly, she proceeded down the stairs. The guards then followed, and Marcy, in the back, made certain to shut the door tightly before floating down the stairs.
Vanstrom jumped for a moment as Marcy appeared in front of him abruptly, despite clearly having been at the back of the group on a stairwell too narrow for anything other then single file. It soon occurred to him that she was a Banshee, though, and that her somewhat ghostly nature gave her the power to pass through solid objects, this one being the wall-or possibly the roof or floor, is she was feeling different-of the Slayer Tower. Thereupon, she appeared to be in front of him. As the rest of the group reached the bottom of the stairwell, the group spread out ever so slightly, the guards returning to the position that they held earlier side by side, directly behind Shadow, axe-like weapons brandished.

"Ah come in… I see you have brought our guests…"

Everyone save for Marcy glanced up curiously as a voice rode like an echo on the wind through the room, reverberating off the cave walls. Vanstrom found he was unable to pinpoint where the voice was coming from. Even Shadow ceased her useless struggles, astonished by the eerie, yet strangely soothing voice speaking to them.
"If I'm going to be speaking with you, you're going to make yourself clear." Vanstrom yelled, pushing his stark white hair back a little as it rushed into his eye. "I prefer to see who I am speaking to when having such a meeting."

"Oh how foolish of me… I forgot… you cannot see me. You should not ask who you are speaking to… but what, per say."

Vanstrom hatefully argued against the voice, not presenting himself in the mature and noble fashion a Vampyre of his standing should have presented himself in. "Who, what, when, where, why… I don't particularly care! I cannot see you and you are speaking." His teeth clenched, and he attempted to stop himself from doing anything foolish. "Show yourself, or I will take my business elsewhere. I find that to be a reasonable enough thing for me to ask of you."

"Hmm… alright…. If you say so. Only because you have caught my interest."

With a very hard to distinguish verbal cue, lights flickered on. Though very dim, the candles which were lit almost instantaneously, as if by magic, provided just enough light for the rest of the chamber to be see. The chamber was nothing different from a dimly lit dungeon, a cave of sorts. The room was not very much decorated, which made it difficult for anyone to believe that there were… people… living down here. There were a few tapestries hung on the wall, most of them adorning either a dragon's head sigil or the marking of Zamorak. Red and gold seemed to be their favorite colors, for those colors were most prominent on the tapestries. There was a desk at the end of the room, directly across from Vanstrom. Three people lurked near the desk, though only one sat at it. They were all quite special.
Actually sitting at the desk was a rather interesting looking creature. Upon first glance, the creature had anatomy that was somewhat human enough, but further investigation revealed nothing of the sort. The creature was dressed in dull black robes. The top half, where the hood was, was instead a deep red, perhaps better described as burgundy. There was also a secondary color to the primary colors of red and black, which formed curvy stripes through and would be best described at a shimmering gold, which sort of stood out. The creature had pale green skin, which definitely wasn't normal. The creature's legs were awkwardly skinny, save for the knees, which stood out as if someone had infected them and they grew too large. The creature had clawed hands as well, and after watching for a while, Vanstrom noted that one of the arms occasionally snapped out of place, being held together by some sort of orange substance, which allowed the arm to stretch in and out at well. The creepiest part of this creature was that it had no face. Something Vanstrom swore he could see a red glint in the shadow of the hood, but far as Vanstrom could see, there wasn't a nose, eyes, or a mouth, within that hood. In fact, Vanstrom strained to see if there was even a head, which he was beginning to feel convinced there wasn't.
Standing next to this interesting creature was someone that looked and smelled to be fully human, which was awkward since nobody else in this room held that scent. He was clearly a mage, for he was dressed in robes, though Vanstrom failed to comprehend which robes exactly. The top half of the robes looked like an old version of the dark mystic robes, with a very large red piece on the shoulder, crossing over the chest and meeting in the middle. Where that piece met, was not only a brooch which appeared to be shaped like snakes head, but also had two skull-like charms hanging from it, though where they connected was beyond anyone. The bottom of his robe was very thick, just like his long sleeve, with awkward black pieces hanging off, starting at the waist and traveling down to about the knee. At the bottom of each piece was a blood red triangular mark, a red which went well with the red coloring of the material underneath his robe, which appeared where the top half did not reach. He wore a very large dark red had, which curled at the top like the branches of a curry tree.
Laying on the floor, appearing very unaware of what was going on, was a very pale and hairless creature with faded red eyes, which did not have an iris or a pupil… nothing but a strange red glow, which dimly lit the area around him. The only thing on the creature's torso was a belt-like object wrapped over his left shoulder, meeting at his right waist, then traveling up his back to meet once more. The creature also wore black pants, but they were torn and ratty and didn't look like they served much more of a purpose then to cover up parts nobody wanted to see from a creature of his species… or much any creature. The creature wore nothing on his feet, and he seemed rather comfortable with the horrible shape his clothes were in, for he laid there on the floor quite peacefully, half awake and half asleep, oblivious.
Unable to contain his sarcastic commentary, Vanstrom finally had the audacity to ask, "What kind of circus are you people running here? This isn't the big top, I would hope." Marcy sped past Vanstrom, isolating herself in the far corner of the room, as he spoke.
"We're just a group of Morytanians with the same general views. Nothing more and nothing less." the creature sitting at the desk answered calmly, and though his voice no longer echoed off the walls, it was still clear that he was the one initially speaking. "We are the Skryté Deti, the hidden children of Morytania, so to say. I am Lucien." He motioned to the mage standing next to him. "This is my assistant Alastor. He is one of the Infernal Mages of the Slayer Tower." He then motioned to the creature half asleep below him. "This is Graveleaper and he is a Ghoul. Don't mind him, he just fed and is rather tired." He gazed next into the corner. "Marcy is our timid little Banshee and I'm sure you already know her." Finally turning back to Vanstrom, he finished, "Our last member is Byron, but he's still scouting Canifis for me. He should be back soon, though. I fear you may not fancy him."
Vanstrom examined the interesting group. From what he noted, Marcy was correct. Most of the members of the group lived either in or near the Slayer Tower of Morytania, or… rather they had. "I'm sure I'll get over it." Vanstrom noted, sort of hoping inwardly that this Byron-whoever and whatever he was-did not return until Vanstrom was finished with his business. "I'd hate to kill your joy, but there are a few things I prefer getting out right now. Firstly, there can't be anyone I hate more then a human, except maybe Shadow, and that's it. For another, I understand the human is a mage and that he could be of us, but of what use is a Ghoul?"
Before Vanstrom could get out his third statement, the Ghoul pushed himself up, straining with all his effort to get himself up even halfway to speak. "You aren't too amazing yourself… I've torn apart countless humans and creatures alike… Very few can combat me…"
"Graveleaper is a combat specialist, and a very good one at that, though he sometimes can get over his head." Lucien interrupted, flicking his wrist so that his arm fitted back into place. "He isn't bothered with meetings such as these. He's more the one for the plan after the meeting. He also doesn't prefer talking very much, so try to keep speaking to him limited."
Vanstrom threw the uninterested Ghoul a questionable glance, but Graveleaper either failed to see it or simply didn't care, for he plopped back down on the dirty ground below with a huff, attempting to return to his rest he was previously having. Vanstrom, ignoring the Ghoul's actions, since he no longer cared, turned to Lucien and rudely inquired, "If this is a group of Morytanian creatures, why are you the head of it? Better question, why are you even here. Though I fail to recognize your species, I am intelligent enough to realize it is not native to Morytania, and far as I am aware, other the you, doesn't even exist in these lands."
Alastor shot a worried expression in Lucien's direction. Even Graveleaper, as uninterested as he was, appeared to be interested in the way of which Lucien would respond to such a comment. "Oh, but I know that's true." Lucien lowered his head a little, resting his chin in the palms of his clawed hands. "I was not born in Morytania, nor even anywhere near this place." He straightened his posture, no longer leaning over. "I am called an Otherworldly Being, so called because no one is quite sure where I came from, not even I quite understand my existence. My kind usually exists in Zanaris, quite happy to lurk in the wretched little field, surrounded by flowers, faeries, and the sparkling water of an everlasting pond."
"You did not fancy such a place?" Vanstrom inquired, though caring very little, he wanted to appear as if he did, so Lucien would feel closer to him and be more willing to assist and assist well. He knew of Zanaris, a world who's location was never properly documented in which faeries supposedly frolicked and pranced. Vanstrom had always questioned if it was real, but Lucien seemed to be proving it perhaps was.
Lucien shuddered, ignoring his arm when it once more fell out of place from where it was being held in. "That place was a nightmare. I'm not sure what the other beings were thinking, but all I know is all that twinkling sunshine, bright flowers, and faerie nonsense was driving me insane. I can't imagine why anyone other then a faerie would desire to live in such conditions." Vanstrom could feel a sense of comfort washing over the strange creature in front of him. Lucien liked being able to divulge himself to someone, to tell someone of his past who actually seemed interested… Vanstrom was going to continue to feed upon this weakness. "So I 'smuggled' my way out. Many a times had I seen humans entering and exiting the city while carrying long, mangled wooden poles. I began to assume those were involved in the process of escaping that place. So I killed a weaker human who was not expecting an Otherworldly Being to leave it's pool, stole the wooden staff, and fled. Well, here I am."
Vanstrom, attempting to continue to feed from Lucien's weakness of speaking about his past, innocently asked, "You have fled far, I am to assume?"
Lucien nodded. "Very far." He replied. "Very much worth it, too. I feel much more at home around this place then at Zanaris. Zanaris was too bright for me. I required gloom, darkness, and a foreboding sense of evil. This place served that desire well. As for the group… that is a story too long to tell. Skryté Deti has a very complex history. We, however, have business to attend to."
"Mayhap another time, then." Vanstrom amiably said, inwardly thinking how glad he was that Lucien no longer wished to speak of his past, for his past was very dull to Vanstrom's ears. Literally, he could feel that lifeless sensation weighing against his brain, a weight which would not be easily lifted. He had come here for business, and business he was going to get.
Lucien was almost like Vanstrom; when business needed to be attended to, he didn't waste any time getting straight to it. It was like the old saying 'time is money', except Vanstrom had no care for money, but perhaps Lucien desired what Vanstrom didn't. "Before you begin," Lucien started, "I must ask, did you bring the Vampyre Marcy mentioned? I explicitly asked that you already had the target contained before meeting up with me."
"I brought her, just as you requested." Vanstrom replied, turning back to his guards. He hissed upon them, causing them to back away from Shadow. Terror washed through Shadow's mind like a rogue tidal wave as Vanstrom reached under her wings, grabbed her by the back of her clothing, and drug her across the room as if she hardly even mattered. Shadow attempted to yell, to cry for someone to release her, but her voice was as always, muffled into nothing. Even if she could be heard, who would help her? No one in this room, certainly. Nonetheless, that thrashing anger and agonizing fear returned to her, and she struggled valiantly, finding her powers barred by the precautions Vanstrom had taken against her escape. He threw her down on the floor in front of Lucien, and she found she was unable to get to her feet, for she could not push herself up with her hands, as they were bound not only at the wrists, but against her body as well. Shadow wept inwardly, small tears forming like crystals in her eyes. She quickly turned her head, not wishing to look upon Lucien and his horrifying visage.
Lucien rose to his feet, glancing over his desk at the creature that lay bound in front of him. He observed silently for a minute, absolutely no emotion passing through him, then, feeling satisfied, glanced up at Vanstrom and said, "Good, she is just what you promised, and perhaps even more." Satisfaction swept over his mind. "A Vampyre noble… What do you want to be done… and furthermore, what are you promising for our intervention?"
"I would like t-" Vanstrom began, unable to get any further into his sentence as the hurried footsteps of an approaching being skittered quickly in his direction. Lucien glanced up, Vanstrom back, as a little hunch backed creature rushed out of the staircase, into the main room of the base.
"Hey Lucien!" the creature called in a rather excited voice, barreling past Vanstrom's guards as if they never even existed. "I watch Canifis like ask. Not much happen. There be a big Vampyre go through swamp, but not watch her much. Werewolves hide during storm, but they outside and play ball of skull now."
A confused expression replaced the one of anger on Vanstrom's face towards the newcomer, for his way of speaking was very interesting, almost as if he hadn't a clue what exactly he was even saying. Vanstrom recognized the species instantly, though, and if this were the last member of Skryté Deti, then he could see why Lucien mentioned he wouldn't be well liked. The creature was clothed in the ripped rags of what appeared to be a Vampyre Juvinate's clothing. It had tall pointed ears, long arms with clawed fingers, and a thin leather under its arms sort of like wings. This was definitely one of the feral Vampyres, and Vanstrom absolutely loathed feral Vampyres.
Lucien glared upon the hyperactive Vampyric creature, who appeared to not only be annoying Vanstrom, but also disturbing Graveleaper's rest as well. "Be quiet!" Lucien snarled forcefully upon the young Vampyre, speaking in a tone of voice as if he were scolding a very bad dog. "Can't you see we are in the middle of a meeting? How very rude to interrupt."
"I is sorry, Lucien." the creature answered, scuttling past Vanstrom's feet, not even noticing Shadow initially, and sitting down near Alastor, who seemed completely indifferent towards the little creature's presence below him.
"I AM sorry." corrected Lucien kindly, twiddling his fingers within each other. "Is would only be proper if you were referring to a single person other then yourself, as in 'He is sorry' or 'She is sorry'. Do you understand?"
The Vampyric creature fell into silence for a minute, contemplating what he was just told within his head. "So… they is sorry too?" he finally inquired, seeming to wish to know if that were proper grammar or not. He appeared hopeful, as he seemed so very certain that this had to be correct. However, everyone who heard that sentence knew it was wrong, and they were all probably already expecting Lucien to correct the little creature once more.
Lucien shook his head at the creature, who frowned when he learned that he was wrong once more. "They ARE sorry, Byron. When referring to multiple people such as they or we, the word are replaces the word is. Am is a word only used when referring to yourself; nobody else but you." Byron, who was apparently the Vampyric creature, appeared dejected at first, but then grew happier, gallivanting across the room cheerfully announcing sentences in the contest of someone being sorry, this time, for the most part, using proper grammar. "Do excuse Byron." Lucien suddenly said to Vanstrom, who he could tell was unimpressed. "I know how your kind don't like your feral cousins, but Byron is a very good scout and as I am teaching him English, he has become slightly less feral." When Vanstom appeared to be still unimpressed and unconvinced by Lucien's previous statement, he quickly proceeded to add, "And all interactions with him will be at a minimum. You'll hardly ever have to deal with him."
"Good." Vanstrom responded boldly, his mutual dislike for Byron completely evident in his tone of voice. "Now, as I was saying before he so rudely interrupted, I would like to be rid of this one. Killing a Vampyre is no simple task, and nonetheless, a death would be too honorable for her. I want her name to be shunned for the rest of him, not looked upon in glory, which it surely will if she were to be flat out murdered. Besides, killing a Vampyre noble is a hard task, even for another noble, and I hardly have the time to waste with something difficult as such. Not worth it."
Lucien, who no longer was on the topic of Byron, twiddled his thumbs aimlessly for a while, contemplating what he had been told. "We could get it done, have her name dishonored, but it would be no small task. The resources would be many, the risk would be great… but I'm not saying it isn't possible. However…" At this moment in time, Byron spotted Shadow, and appeared shocked to behold her, "a task of such grand proportion would be no simplicity and thus you would have to give me a pretty good reason to bother getting involved in something as such."
Vanstrom was swift about yanking out the Dusk Stone and throwing it in the direction of Lucien's desk. The stone was tough, and it didn't so much as chip when it slammed against the hard surface of Lucien's desk, rolling a couple inches before coming to a stop in front of him. "Is this a good enough reason?" Vanstrom inquired. When Shadow spotted that he was offering up her Dusk Stone as payment, she struggled wildly in her binds, attempting to scream and howl to tell this infernal monster not to touch her Dusk Stone. Her efforts were, as always, in vain.
Her screams were evidently ignored, as Lucien picked up the stone and overlooked it, a deep interest flickering through him. He tossed it in his hands, tilting his head one way to the side, then another, observing it from all different angles. "This is a very interesting gem you've got here. I've never seen anything like it. What's it worth?"
"This is more then just a mere gem stone." Vanstrom bragged, as if he himself had created to thing. Shadow continued to attempt to get them to focus on her, to listen to her and not to bargain the stone. However, as Vanstrom sauntered past Shadow to approach Lucien, he subtly, but violently, pushed his foot into the back of Shadow's ankle. Tears rushed down her eyes and she whimpered as crack echoed across the room, signaling that the bone in her ankle had been snapped to some degree. "This beauty is called a Dusk Stone." Vanstrom rested his hands on Lucien's desk, something he didn't prefer, but made no effort to stop Vanstrom from doing. "It's a very ancient artifact, something that Lord Drakan had been holding on to for years. He eventually passed it on, though, to the little monster down there. Far as I'm concerned, it's mine. However, if you fancy it, we can call it the payment."
Lucien still seemed interested, but held a questionable sense behind the interest. Sure, it was rare, and Lucien didn't find it difficult to believe it was ancient, for it surely looked the part. Nothing stopped Lucien from wanting to know more and he was left so as he, still grasping the darkly stone, peered up at Vanstrom and asked, "What makes it so special, then?"
"Perhaps the fact that it can summon an ancient blood dragon to do the bidding of whoever wields the stone, a creature which Shadow here has taken a fancy to making timid and quiet." Vanstrom explained, and smirked as he added, "The stone is in your control, though, and even if the dragon is still associated with her, it listens to you. You could order it to do whatever you want."
Though Lucien neither a physical nor a verbal cue that he was pleased, Vanstrom could sense it. Shadow glanced up at the horrifying creature, worried what he would do with that stone in his control. "Hmm… I can't believe I'm going to take your word for this without proof, but I'll accept your stone in return for my services. In fact… if this stone really does summon a dragon, I think we may already have a hole of our plan filled wonderfully so."
While fear rushed down Shadow's spine at Lucien's comment, Vanstrom felt the complete opposite emotion, a sense of bliss dancing down his. Lucien, however, remained tenacious, not submitting to any emotion which dared to enter him. He threw them all aware, his mind deep in the course of plotting, thinking, and conceiving…