Rahab and his officers stole through the shadows just outside of the Sarafan keep, weapons ready to draw blood. Coming up to one of the main sewage lines and holding his breath as best as he could, the vampire lord and his officers made quick work of the grating and entered. Filth that Rahab did not even wish to think about flowed around his feet; thankfully he and the rest of his officers were wearing their boots but still the stink in itself was overpowering. The tunnels were as dark as the night outside but for a vampire that was no problem. Eyes narrowed from behind his visor Rahab stopped as he came to the end of the sewage line, motioning his children to keep silent and remain still. He peered out through the grating at the room in front of him; the refining chamber as Zephon had told him. The chamber was immense and nearly dark, the only light coming from torches and oil lamps set into the walls. A horrible racket was coming from one of the three generators that refined the human waste; Rahab decided that even if the plan did not call for it, he would see those massive machines destroyed and in their destruction watch more of the Sarafan fortress come down.
From here the vampires could enter into the basements and begin their work. Rahab saw three guards walking along the room, completely at ease, thinking themselves safe inside their massive fortress. Fools, the Clan lord thought. Little do you know that your death is looking at you on the other side of this grating. He turned back to his children and clenched his fist, then brought it down quickly. The signal for them to strike was given and the Rahabim vampires leapt forwards from the sewage lines, battle cries ringing through the air.
The Sarafan did not know what attacked them. By the time the one nearest to Rahab had managed to pull his sword, the Lieutenant had already finished cutting of his head with one powerful sweep from his battleaxe. The second Sarafan guard charged the Clan lord but a Rahabim vampire leapt at the human, bringing him to the ground and tearing out the human's throat with his fangs. The third guard, and the one closest to the door, decided that fleeing would be a good idea. Unfortunately he did not remember that during training that one should never leave their back open to the foe; he collapsed to the ground with two arrows protruding from his back, a gauntleted hand sliding away from the door's handle.
"All right, let us move quickly and silently," Rahab said. He pointed to his youngest officer, Tyran. "Destroy those machines and guard the way here just in case we have to fall back. Dispose of the bodies and take care of any more Sarafan that come this way." From higher up in the fortress, a sound of an explosion came down to the basements, followed by a slight shuddering in the walls. Rahab smiled; Turel was already beginning his attack. He looked at the rest of his children. "Now the challenge begins."
* * *
"Hmm, perhaps we overdid that last spell," Turel mused to himself as he and his officers quickly crossed over from the darkness outside into the interior of the Sarafan keep, thanks to the massive hole they had created because of a lightning spell. Bodies of Sarafan littered the ground as well as body parts. Blood and intestines slicked the ground as well as dust, a disgusting combination for anyone to look at, but the vampires did not concern themselves with such things. They had seen and done far worse.
"Has the Rahabim already started their approach," one of Turel's mages asked, sliding up to his father. Turel fixed his sword at his waist, ready to draw it out at any moment should there be any survivors from the explosion, and looked at his officer.
"Knowing Lord Rahab he has already carried out his attack with ease. We make our way to the center chambers and we do so quickly." Turel looked at his mages who carried with them arcane staffs carved from the bones of ancient dragons now long dead. "Weapons out; prepare your most powerful spells." Swords hissed as they were pulled from their scabbards; a charged energy filled the air as magic was summoned and waited to be unleashed at a moment's notice. Turel motioned for his officers to follow closely behind him as they hurried down the long and dimly lit corridors. Their shadows stalked against the walls, sinister, twisting and frightening. Turel once remembered Zarina telling him of a human saying, that shadows were but a reflection of a person's soul deep inside; like gazing into a one-way mirror. But, the Clan Leader thought, all humans would call the deed they were about to perform sinister so the vampires' shadows aptly reflected what was in their souls. Turel shook his head.
This was no time for some inner spiritual debate.
It was this inner debate that nearly got Turel killed.
As the vampire lord rounded a corner to his right a glaive cut the air in front of him, moving so fast the wind whistled around the deadly blade. Turel instinctively raised his own sword and blocked the attack that would have cut deep into his shoulder, at the same moment dropping down and rolling forwards. The Sarafan knight, a heavily armoured brute, backed up quickly at the unexpected move and for a few moments was left unbalanced with his cumbersome armour. In that time the youngest of Turel's officers, and an aspiring mage named Kotori, charged forwards to protect her father.
The young fledgling slashed out with her sharpened claws, raking her left hand over the human's face then slashing out with her enchanted dagger. The blade bit into the Sarafan's left shoulder, between the plates, and Kotori drove her weapon into the flesh as far as it would go. The knight howled out in pain, the enchantments from the vampire's blade working their way into his flesh. Agony wracked his massive form and blood frothed from his mouth. He dropped his weapon and fell to his knees, blood streaming from his face and clouding his vision. Kotori wretched her dagger out and raised it above her head to deliver the killing blow and that was when the Sarafan knight, weakened and near death, played his last card.
Raising himself painfully to his feet, the knight bowled Kotori over, and then picked the young vampire fledgling up, at the same time breaking the window beside him with a gauntleted hand. Turel and his other mages could not do anything for fear of hitting Kotori, and Turel could only cry out in anguish as the knight held the fledgling and threw him and her out the shattered window, locked in a grim parody of an embrace. The Clan Lord did not have to look out the keep's shattered window to know that his youngest mage had died. Even a Turelim vampire, for all their strength and lore, could not stop death from such a height.
"My Lord," one of the elder mages spoke hesitantly, "we must keep going. Lord Zephon is counting upon us."
Turel tore his gaze away from the shattered window, where a wind was coming through, creating a low howl and looked slowly at his officers. "Yes, we must continue. Kotori will not have gone to her death in vain."
The Turelim vampires moved on.
* * *
Zephon dug his claws easily into the fortress walls, hauling himself up easily, full armour and all. Zarina clung onto his back, her head resting against his left shoulder, listening to the wind howl around them. Behind them came Siglar and Natarek, followed by Kilik, Mecant, Fecour and Daurgon. The walls of the fortress were hewn from rough granite and provided enough niches that Zephon did not have to overwork himself in making new ones. Moss grew in a couple of places as well as vines; these provided better support for the non-Zephonim vampires.
"Lord Zephon," Fecour called out, "please slow down. The pace you're setting is too-" The young Melchiahim vampire did not finish his sentence. His left hand had dug deeply into a cleft, thinking that is was a sure support for his weight. He had been wrong; the rock crumbled quickly under his claw and unbalanced as he was, Fecour had lost his hold completely on the Sarafan fortress walls and plummeted to his death. Kilik had made a half-hearted lunge for the vampire but had missed, his claw just brushing the tips of Fecour. Fecour's screaming had filled the air, and then had been cut short, as his body had impacted on the rocky ground below.
Zarina turned her face away from the scene below her and drew in shuddering breaths. Zephon looked coldly at the Melchiahim vampire's shattered corpse and then turned to his head to look at the others. "I hope you all will be more careful. Not everyone is expendable in this mission." His black hair whipped out behind him as Zephon turned his hard gaze upwards, to the top of the fortress. He could just make out the fluttering pendants of the supposedly Holy Order.
"Are we almost there," Zarina whispered in his ear.
"Yes," Zephon grunted as he climbed up a few more feet. "Once we get there, would you be able to cast a warding barrier of sorts to protect us?"
"I will see what I can do," his wife answered, squeezing her hands reassuringly around his shoulders.
"Thank the Dark Gods," Natarek huffed as he climbed alongside his sire. "The roof is right there. No more climbing." Zephon gave his sub-commander a look. "Not that I am all that tired, but all the same."
Zephon's claws drove deep into the granite as he pulled himself and Zarina up and over the edge of the fortress onto the roof. Zarina climbed off of her husband, then turned around and helped the other vampires up and over. The roof itself was littered with marble and stone statues of dragons and unicorns, as well as saints whose names had been long forgotten over the course of time. Siglar hauled Kilik up beside his quickly, and in doing so unwittingly saved his own life. The crossbow bolt that had been meant for Siglar's neck instead pierced Kilik in the chest. Zarina screamed as Kilik looked down at the arrow in his chest, an expression of stupidity written across his face. He wondered dimly for a moment why he did not feel any pain; he brushed his claw across the feathered shaft of the arrow. Then two more streaked through the air, knocking the Razielim vampire back as the arrows pierced his neck.
With a choked scream, vainly clutching at the arrows in his neck, Kilik toppled to the ground as the Final Death overtook him. Zephon's sword was already drawn as he looked for the threat. He did not have to search for it presented itself to the Clan Lord.
"And here I was thinking that you things would never come. But it shows that once again human thinking is vastly superior to vampiric thoughts," the Sarafan commander stepped out from behind a massive statue of a dragon whose wings were unfurled and maw opened in a silent hiss. The human was dressed completely in silver armour, his face hidden by an elaborate helm. Along the shoulder plates, engraved in gold, was the symbol of the Sarafan. "Allow me to introduce myself properly. I am the Sarafan Commander Malus. You might have defeated my elder over a year ago, Lord Zephon, but you will find that I am superior to him in every way. I am your death, vampire."
More Sarafan appeared from behind the other statues, crossbows and pikes raised towards the small strike team. Somehow Zephon knew Malus' words rang true. The Clan Lord raised his sword and bared his fangs. "Then let my supposed death come, but I assure you that today I will not be vanquished from this world."
From here the vampires could enter into the basements and begin their work. Rahab saw three guards walking along the room, completely at ease, thinking themselves safe inside their massive fortress. Fools, the Clan lord thought. Little do you know that your death is looking at you on the other side of this grating. He turned back to his children and clenched his fist, then brought it down quickly. The signal for them to strike was given and the Rahabim vampires leapt forwards from the sewage lines, battle cries ringing through the air.
The Sarafan did not know what attacked them. By the time the one nearest to Rahab had managed to pull his sword, the Lieutenant had already finished cutting of his head with one powerful sweep from his battleaxe. The second Sarafan guard charged the Clan lord but a Rahabim vampire leapt at the human, bringing him to the ground and tearing out the human's throat with his fangs. The third guard, and the one closest to the door, decided that fleeing would be a good idea. Unfortunately he did not remember that during training that one should never leave their back open to the foe; he collapsed to the ground with two arrows protruding from his back, a gauntleted hand sliding away from the door's handle.
"All right, let us move quickly and silently," Rahab said. He pointed to his youngest officer, Tyran. "Destroy those machines and guard the way here just in case we have to fall back. Dispose of the bodies and take care of any more Sarafan that come this way." From higher up in the fortress, a sound of an explosion came down to the basements, followed by a slight shuddering in the walls. Rahab smiled; Turel was already beginning his attack. He looked at the rest of his children. "Now the challenge begins."
* * *
"Hmm, perhaps we overdid that last spell," Turel mused to himself as he and his officers quickly crossed over from the darkness outside into the interior of the Sarafan keep, thanks to the massive hole they had created because of a lightning spell. Bodies of Sarafan littered the ground as well as body parts. Blood and intestines slicked the ground as well as dust, a disgusting combination for anyone to look at, but the vampires did not concern themselves with such things. They had seen and done far worse.
"Has the Rahabim already started their approach," one of Turel's mages asked, sliding up to his father. Turel fixed his sword at his waist, ready to draw it out at any moment should there be any survivors from the explosion, and looked at his officer.
"Knowing Lord Rahab he has already carried out his attack with ease. We make our way to the center chambers and we do so quickly." Turel looked at his mages who carried with them arcane staffs carved from the bones of ancient dragons now long dead. "Weapons out; prepare your most powerful spells." Swords hissed as they were pulled from their scabbards; a charged energy filled the air as magic was summoned and waited to be unleashed at a moment's notice. Turel motioned for his officers to follow closely behind him as they hurried down the long and dimly lit corridors. Their shadows stalked against the walls, sinister, twisting and frightening. Turel once remembered Zarina telling him of a human saying, that shadows were but a reflection of a person's soul deep inside; like gazing into a one-way mirror. But, the Clan Leader thought, all humans would call the deed they were about to perform sinister so the vampires' shadows aptly reflected what was in their souls. Turel shook his head.
This was no time for some inner spiritual debate.
It was this inner debate that nearly got Turel killed.
As the vampire lord rounded a corner to his right a glaive cut the air in front of him, moving so fast the wind whistled around the deadly blade. Turel instinctively raised his own sword and blocked the attack that would have cut deep into his shoulder, at the same moment dropping down and rolling forwards. The Sarafan knight, a heavily armoured brute, backed up quickly at the unexpected move and for a few moments was left unbalanced with his cumbersome armour. In that time the youngest of Turel's officers, and an aspiring mage named Kotori, charged forwards to protect her father.
The young fledgling slashed out with her sharpened claws, raking her left hand over the human's face then slashing out with her enchanted dagger. The blade bit into the Sarafan's left shoulder, between the plates, and Kotori drove her weapon into the flesh as far as it would go. The knight howled out in pain, the enchantments from the vampire's blade working their way into his flesh. Agony wracked his massive form and blood frothed from his mouth. He dropped his weapon and fell to his knees, blood streaming from his face and clouding his vision. Kotori wretched her dagger out and raised it above her head to deliver the killing blow and that was when the Sarafan knight, weakened and near death, played his last card.
Raising himself painfully to his feet, the knight bowled Kotori over, and then picked the young vampire fledgling up, at the same time breaking the window beside him with a gauntleted hand. Turel and his other mages could not do anything for fear of hitting Kotori, and Turel could only cry out in anguish as the knight held the fledgling and threw him and her out the shattered window, locked in a grim parody of an embrace. The Clan Lord did not have to look out the keep's shattered window to know that his youngest mage had died. Even a Turelim vampire, for all their strength and lore, could not stop death from such a height.
"My Lord," one of the elder mages spoke hesitantly, "we must keep going. Lord Zephon is counting upon us."
Turel tore his gaze away from the shattered window, where a wind was coming through, creating a low howl and looked slowly at his officers. "Yes, we must continue. Kotori will not have gone to her death in vain."
The Turelim vampires moved on.
* * *
Zephon dug his claws easily into the fortress walls, hauling himself up easily, full armour and all. Zarina clung onto his back, her head resting against his left shoulder, listening to the wind howl around them. Behind them came Siglar and Natarek, followed by Kilik, Mecant, Fecour and Daurgon. The walls of the fortress were hewn from rough granite and provided enough niches that Zephon did not have to overwork himself in making new ones. Moss grew in a couple of places as well as vines; these provided better support for the non-Zephonim vampires.
"Lord Zephon," Fecour called out, "please slow down. The pace you're setting is too-" The young Melchiahim vampire did not finish his sentence. His left hand had dug deeply into a cleft, thinking that is was a sure support for his weight. He had been wrong; the rock crumbled quickly under his claw and unbalanced as he was, Fecour had lost his hold completely on the Sarafan fortress walls and plummeted to his death. Kilik had made a half-hearted lunge for the vampire but had missed, his claw just brushing the tips of Fecour. Fecour's screaming had filled the air, and then had been cut short, as his body had impacted on the rocky ground below.
Zarina turned her face away from the scene below her and drew in shuddering breaths. Zephon looked coldly at the Melchiahim vampire's shattered corpse and then turned to his head to look at the others. "I hope you all will be more careful. Not everyone is expendable in this mission." His black hair whipped out behind him as Zephon turned his hard gaze upwards, to the top of the fortress. He could just make out the fluttering pendants of the supposedly Holy Order.
"Are we almost there," Zarina whispered in his ear.
"Yes," Zephon grunted as he climbed up a few more feet. "Once we get there, would you be able to cast a warding barrier of sorts to protect us?"
"I will see what I can do," his wife answered, squeezing her hands reassuringly around his shoulders.
"Thank the Dark Gods," Natarek huffed as he climbed alongside his sire. "The roof is right there. No more climbing." Zephon gave his sub-commander a look. "Not that I am all that tired, but all the same."
Zephon's claws drove deep into the granite as he pulled himself and Zarina up and over the edge of the fortress onto the roof. Zarina climbed off of her husband, then turned around and helped the other vampires up and over. The roof itself was littered with marble and stone statues of dragons and unicorns, as well as saints whose names had been long forgotten over the course of time. Siglar hauled Kilik up beside his quickly, and in doing so unwittingly saved his own life. The crossbow bolt that had been meant for Siglar's neck instead pierced Kilik in the chest. Zarina screamed as Kilik looked down at the arrow in his chest, an expression of stupidity written across his face. He wondered dimly for a moment why he did not feel any pain; he brushed his claw across the feathered shaft of the arrow. Then two more streaked through the air, knocking the Razielim vampire back as the arrows pierced his neck.
With a choked scream, vainly clutching at the arrows in his neck, Kilik toppled to the ground as the Final Death overtook him. Zephon's sword was already drawn as he looked for the threat. He did not have to search for it presented itself to the Clan Lord.
"And here I was thinking that you things would never come. But it shows that once again human thinking is vastly superior to vampiric thoughts," the Sarafan commander stepped out from behind a massive statue of a dragon whose wings were unfurled and maw opened in a silent hiss. The human was dressed completely in silver armour, his face hidden by an elaborate helm. Along the shoulder plates, engraved in gold, was the symbol of the Sarafan. "Allow me to introduce myself properly. I am the Sarafan Commander Malus. You might have defeated my elder over a year ago, Lord Zephon, but you will find that I am superior to him in every way. I am your death, vampire."
More Sarafan appeared from behind the other statues, crossbows and pikes raised towards the small strike team. Somehow Zephon knew Malus' words rang true. The Clan Lord raised his sword and bared his fangs. "Then let my supposed death come, but I assure you that today I will not be vanquished from this world."