Copyright © 2002 by Syvia (Aka Rebecca K. Friedrick). All Rights Reserved.
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the stuff from LoK. Adojan the Hylden and all of the Ancients except Janos are my brain children. If you want the full list- check out the dictionary in the back. ^_^
I got help from these sources:
I used the Prima strategy guides for BO2 & SR2 for pics of the games and info.
Blincoln's site; http://www.peak.sfu.ca/~blincoln/lok/ for inspiration given by the cut scenes and dialogue from each of the games (which I also don't own, even though they were cut out *pouts*)
And SilverEnigma's site http://www.darkchronicle.co.uk/archive/bomap.html (she has kick-ass pictures of just about everything in her archive, which I looked at while writing.)
As well as my buddies from FF.net, who are still helping me gain new insight into the characters of LoK and giving me new things to think about. *huggles them*
Author's Notes: You'll notice that the title of this chapter is part of a quote from Bo2. *wide grin* I just love that quote.
Zofia- *trying to pull the chapter from Syvia's death-grip* Sweetie... let the chapter go. It's time to post.
Syvia- It still needs rewriting!
Zofia- It needs to be posted before you go on vacation!
*Zofia manages to pry the chapter from her creator's grip and flies away quickly*
Syvia- You come back here!
Zofia- *at a great distance* Fix it to your satisfaction after you've completed the fic!
Chapter 8
The Backwaters of Passing Time
Nosgoth ~ 254 A.C. ~ The Sickened World
Burning... he was burning. The sensations traveling from his skin had been narrowed down to a bundle of screaming nerves. He was in excruciating pain, debilitating agony... which never ended, or lessened, or even increased. He was in pain, and that was all.
The screaming... dimly he could hear a noise, a hollow sort of shouting that echoed in his ears. Somehow he knew it was coming from his own mouth; a mouth that burned with the same fierce pain as the rest of his body.
He heard the screaming, which was an uncontrolled admission that he felt the searing, acidic touch of the water that surrounded him, and the soft roar underlying that scream which was the sound of his flesh, hissing as it dissolved. But in the haze of pain, it didn't seem real.
Whether time flew or crawled, he did not know. At some later moment, he noticed the outside screaming had ceased. This was little comfort, however, as the screaming in his mind continued. The only thing to keep his tortured awareness company was a depthless anger, an endless rage against the one who had used him and cast him away with such ease, thrown him into this endless torment.
The fury burned in harmony with his pain, each fueling the other so both burned higher, hotter and greater than either had in the beginning. Suddenly it became too much- he was going mad.
He refused to fade; to be drawn into non-existence, but his mind was crumbling under the onslaught of pain. Then... it stopped. He pushed it away, dividing from it- driving the sensation into a small corner of his mind. He disconnected from it so completely that the physical pain disappeared.
He continued to scream, shouting his rage, the feelings of abandonment and betrayal, never noticing as another voice joined in the screaming. The other's shriek was combined in part with a laugh, neither of which sounded sane. His pain and deadly anger deepened, seeping into the core of his soul, until-
the Reaver released him.
Raziel lay on his side, remembering what silence sounded like. Had he possessed lungs, he might have been panting, listening to his breath as it moved in and out. He watched dazedly as the wraith blade uncoiled itself from his body and collected within his arm. It flared briefly before fading into his flesh.
The Abyss. It had shown him the Abyss. But why?
Now, as before, when he remembered the Lake of the Dead, he felt a sense of injury. Insulted and, though he seldom admitted it, hurt at having been executed so easily by Kain. Tossed away with no reasons given and seemingly no thought to the thousand years of loyal service he'd given his Lord.
Now he had sense enough to think beyond his own pain and indignation. He could imagine the plans Kain must have made, the centuries of plotting and endless scheming, but to what end? To somehow keep him from the Reaver blade and do- what? Kain had not told him anything- not really. The Soul Reaver found himself saved and damned again, and the Hylden, whoever they were, had laid a trap to be sprung in this specific situation. Raziel's eyes narrowed in amusement and he chuckled softly. What irony. To plan for so long, only to find that your enemy, once again, has prepared for your action.
Kain schemes and conspires and it changes, nothing. The thought only added to the mental fatigue that had overtaken his senses- leaving him broken down, exhausted. His magically constructed body was whole, powerful, in a state that was as close to perfection as it could attain, yet he still felt devoid of energy, defenseless.
The blade, again, had overcome him. That the wraith could manifest itself regularly in the Physical Realm, even take him over, was disconcerting. The blade's ability to come upon him so often was an indication of just how much control it had gained.
In the past he would have felt anger, perhaps fear that he could be controlled so easily. Now it only made him weary and a touch annoyed. He had no fear of what happened to his body, for the Reaver protected his body while he underwent the visions, that the stream of sensation might not be interrupted. Waking in an unknown location, however, was wearisome, as it hampered his search for the exit. In the past, he might have felt differently, but that was the past.
He had lived days... months... decades within the Prison. Raziel did not truly know how long it had been. The marking of time was a difficult puzzle. Had he been able to see outside, there wouldn't have been any signs of the passing of day or night. The Prison was covered by storm clouds that never moved, dissipated, or even released water. The outside was unchanging, and so too, was the inside. He made a point of asking the prisoners what year it was, but by the time they didn't shrink away from him in fear, or scream when he approached them, they were insane, and the information they offered about their world was unreliable at best.
Raziel had little taste for the human prisoners. For their company or their souls. They were wretched, pitiful creatures, with little to live for, and, those who were still sane enough to understand the horror of their existence, little taste for life.
There had been a time, during the early years of his imprisonment, that Raziel had killed the prisoners out of a misguided sense of mercy. They'd thanked him- those still possessing any sense- but many ran, calling for the Wardens, who berated him for disrupting their experiments and attempted to herd him into the laboratories. Before long Raziel had left them completely- retreating to the rooms where few ever ventured. There were many indoor pools and aqua ducts in the Prison, which Raziel supposed, powered something within the prison. What, he did not know. The aquatic tunnels, although they did not lead to freedom, were fine places to evade his captors, as the Wardens would command him to emerge from the depths, but not come in after him.
There were some places that he could not be touched by any, even in the Spectral Realm. He would fade, wait in Spectral until he had strength enough to return to the Physical Realm. Raziel imagined he'd spent decades in these nooks, having repeated this cycle many times. These places were useful, as the wraith blade sometimes drained him, deliberately, to pull him into the Spectral Realm, where it could impose its will more strongly upon his mind.
In this instance, the wraith blade had come upon him in the laboratory, drawing him away from the screaming of the prisoners and into the screams of his past victims as he, the wraith blade, tore through their flesh. From there they had moved from the blade's past, to his own, and the memory of his execution.
Screaming voices could be heard almost constantly in the Eternal Prison, yet it didn't bother him. A cacophony of screams had been present throughout the walls of every vampiric territory during the days of the empire. One became accustomed to it- leaning to ignore the noise completely. The near silence told Raziel he was not in the laboratory now.
The Soul Reaver assumed his jailers had transported him away in order to free the table for another prisoner, and put the matter out of his mind. Raziel moved his arms slowly, grunting softly as he maneuvered into a sitting position and acquired a better look at his surroundings.
Textured grey stone, uncut-looking yet smooth to the touch, met his sight. An arched doorway- and stairs which led down to the ground on which he sat. These things he saw without bothering to turn around. Around the room were iron sconces, holding pale white fire.
He turned and took in the scene at his back. Dark, violet-grey clouds moved silently above- and, as one would see if they looked over the edge of the stone pathways- beneath the landmass. Raziel wondered at times if Moebius had collaborated with another of the Guardians during the creation of this place. The strange locations and insane proportions of the rooms within the Prison suggested the power of some other Guardian than that of Time.
A mountainous mass of stone towered before him, staircases lining the near side. Raziel rose and moved forward. Looking up, he saw cages suspended above the stone, the chains that held them reaching up, and up, to finally disappear into the clouds that hung over them.
The Soul Reaver sighed. Another new place, another trail to blaze. Raziel turned calmly as a hand, small and frail, wrapped in white bandages, prodded him tentatively in the shoulder.
"Biscut? Have ya' got a biscut?"
"No," he answered, rising.
The woman, he could only identify the figure as such because of the high pitch of her voice, wrapped abused hands around his arm and followed as he paced away.
"He took it- he shouldn't have- we only get one a day and he took it-"
Raziel shook his head, partly in sympathy, partly in annoyance. He thought indignantly that the woman wouldn't have known day from night any better than he. But 'day' was only a figure of speech and Raziel could understand the woman's anxiety.
Begging for food was common among the prisoners. The bread wafers they called 'biscuits' were rationed. The humans could not die from lack of food, but the Wardens withheld it in an attempt to remove their gluttonous behavior. The prisoners were given food as reward for good behavior, and sometimes to stop their endless babbling.
Raziel gained sustenance about as often as the prisoners. He'd given up on devouring the prisoners that did not take their own lives, and between the soulless Wardens and the Demons who never gave him a moment to feed, he too was being starved.
"Just one- please! Biscuit... biscuit..."
"I haven't any biscuits," he murmured, gently extracting his arm from the woman's grasp. He walked away, leaving her there. The woman whimpered softly and shuffled away, arms out, feeling her way around the area.
Raziel watched her for a few moments, then turned, and without a backward glance, set his foot on the first step.
Raziel moved up the staircase, musing over the female prisoner, whose image had stayed in his mind.
The Soul Reaver did not know if the imprisoned deserved their place in this hell. If his case was any indication, a good number of the Eternal Prisoners were only victims of circumstance.
He sometimes caught glimpses of men and women dressed in glowing armor, bringing peasants and what he assumed were nobility into the prison. He searched for the door by which they entered, but never managed to find it. If the exit had gone undiscovered by him, he was certain that no prisoner had found it.
The prisoners came in unspoiled, but did not exist long in their unaltered state. The Wardens were quick to move them into the laboratories, and then came the experiments.
A glint of metal caught his eye. Propped against a wall, Raziel noticed a bronze axe. The Soul Reaver picked up the weapon and swung it once or twice, testing the balance. The blade had seen use- no telling how old it was, but it would serve in a fight or two. Raziel continued along the corridor, caught up once again in his thoughts.
He was amused once again by the irony of the Warden's opinions. After all the snide comments and taunts of his now deceased brothers and the various creatures he'd met on his journey- here were beings who thought his form to be perfect. His transformation was the result of a spiritual change, they said. His outer form perfectly matched his inner nature, they said.
Raziel's brows furrowed in annoyance. After Moebius had left him here, the Wardens had gleefully examined him- endlessly fascinated by this creature that existed with so recognizable eyes- no mouth, and practically no organs. They had attempted to discern the method by which Raziel had achieved 'the perfect balance between spirit and flesh'.
He fought down an acid feeling of disgust at the thought. He'd spent quite a bit of time, strapped to the examination tables, the Wardens looking at his body for inspiration on how to proceed with their human victims. The experiments were revolting to him, not for the sake of the human's pain, or his own small measure of discomfort; he had, after all, tortured a few humans in his time, and the tests were nothing compared to the torment of the Abyss. It was the lack of purpose and the waste of... things, that disgusted him.
The Warden's mad endeavor to discover perfect balance led them to create monstrosities that began life as human. Human torsos- detached from limbs, their lower jaws removed- hung on metal hooks and somehow remained alive. Their spinal cords hung, clean and white, beneath their chests. They had no entrails. At times, Raziel found himself looking up at these things from his prone position, almost snickering at the resemblance between these tortured souls and himself. Many times in these moments did he recall Mortanius' words. '-one either laughs, or goes mad.'
The more fortunate prisoners' bodies were mutilated, skin flayed from the fingers and toes and sutured together as a crude parody of cloven hands, but they were not dismembered. The eyes were removed and the lids stitched together, in imitation of his seemingly eye-less state.
Some of the prisoners had been rendered mute, their would-be raving of madness reduced to pathetic humming and muffled screams. The pitiful repetitions; begging for food or sometimes sleep, were almost preferable to the mumbling. Worse, perhaps, were the frantic babbling and tearful stories told by the newest prisoners.
He had seen the wasted wrecks of humans that came out of the laboratories long before he had gone in himself. Nevertheless, the Wardens had not waited long before summoning him to the cutting boards.
Raziel stilled abruptly, his thoughts interrupted by a familiar sound. He sank quickly into the shadows, and closing his eyes, he waited, listening. He had long ago begun to recognize the sound of mechanical whirring and the hissing of air as the Wardens' calling card. His jailers barely troubled him any longer, but one never knew. Perhaps one of the creatures had suddenly gotten bored with their human prisoners and longed for a repeat of the original experiments. It had happened before, and they had come looking for him.
Raziel had been uncooperative at first. As the Wardens could not overpower him; only keep him from escaping, he killed them with ease. It had been then that he discovered something unexpected. The creatures had blood, but no souls. However the Wardens were powered- he could not keep them from returning to life. Their bodies remained behind instead of falling to dust as Nosgoth's future vampires had. After some amount of time, the corpse reanimated and came back to torment him. He had attempted, once, to tear one of the bodies apart after 'killing' it, but as he attempted to do so, the demons had come upon him, proving that the Elder God would object to complete destruction of the Wardens.
After this discovery, Raziel had swallowed enough pride to run after having cut the Wardens down. In this way, he evaded them for long periods of time. Despite the wraith blade's lack of cooperation, they were easy enough for Raziel to defeat.
The demons were a different case entirely.
They would explode from their own dimension, spells in hand, growling his name and hungering for his magically constructed flesh. Raziel fought them as well as he was able, sometimes with a stray sword or spear he found lying about the prison, but the sting of those blades was no more than a pinprick upon the demons' hides.
Without the willing aid of the wraith blade, the demons were more difficult to kill. Once upon a time, three or four would have easily overpower him. But now, having spent endless battles killing them, watching their constant, unvarying fighting strategies, he could decimate the ranks of their fighters. The demons, although they marked him often enough, had trouble striking death blows.
He would fight as long as possible, but eventually he became too tired to sustain physical form. The demons seldom left him enough time to feed, and they came, wave after wave, exploding out of their dimension. He would fade into the Spectral Realm, where he was stronger- but where the demons were even larger in number. It was here that they would 'discipline' him.
In the Physical Realm, pain was marginal. In the Spectral, there was a broader range of the unwelcome sensation, and a greater amount of it.
In the past, it had been interesting to Raziel that the sluagh, among the weakest of the creatures he'd faced, caused him more pain with their attacks than the strongest creatures of the Physical Realm.
The only instances he could remember where he had felt great pain in the Physical world were when Kain or one of the Elder's demons had struck him with a spell. Magical attacks pained magical flesh.
He had been taught this in great detail by the demons. They fought him to the brink of exhaustion, allowed him to regain a minor amount of strength, and attacked him again. Different methods were used each time.
The Acid Demons made use of their toxin, the Gas Demons; their noxious fumes. The Lightning Demons would lift him into the air, magical energy coursing through his limbs. The Fire Demons would loft magic flame, and the Black would use their massive claws.
The pain was excruciating, but nothing he had not experienced before. The only new aspect of this punishment was the lack of purpose. It wasn't meant to teach him anything, or give him strength, although he was now more skilled a fighter than he had been. Kain, as a ruler, had punished his children quite harshly, but always for a reason. Raziel shook his head ironically at the thought. Even his execution had had a reason behind it. If Raziel had been given it, perhaps he would feel more understanding towards his creator.
In its way, this torture was much like the Abyss had been, if perhaps, less painful. Both torments had been inflicted upon him by the command of someone more powerful, and both seemed to serve no more purpose than to serve the whim of that powerful being.
The demons had only a moderate amount of intelligence, but their sheer strength and brutality was unmatched. Where Kain's corporal punishments had been coupled with insult upon cutting insult, there were few of those here. What Raziel did take notice of was the soft, malignant laughter in the back of his mind which sounded suspiciously like the Elder God. It was another vague indication of the time period that the voice of his otherworldly 'benefactor' could not yet reach him in the Physical Realm.
As far as Raziel was from the many-limbed horror's lair, the Elder was very present within the Spectral Realm.
Before long, Raziel had allowed the Wardens to inspect him with little resistance. They had pulled, prodded, sliced, smashed and dismembered his pitiful body. Raziel had endured it all with a kind of detached disgust. The pain was negligible throughout the procedures and detached limbs could be regained by time spent in the Spectral Realm. While he had still been weak against the demons, the tests were preferable, in their way, to being 'disciplined' by the Elder's minions. Time continued to move in the Physical Realm, and when he emerged from the laboratories, Raziel could once again search for a way out of the prison.
After his captors' curiosity had been satisfied, they allowed him to roam the prison, confined only by his inability to journey past the outer walls.
The sound finally moved on, growing softer, and Raziel opened his eyes. A pair of yellow globes hung an inch from his face. The Soul Reaver flinched in surprise.
"We require your presence in the examining rooms," the voice said, harsh imperiousness in its tone. The hissing of air sped up, and the Warden became visible, rising a few inches from the ground.
Raziel's eyes narrowed. He raised the axe, shifting into an offensive stance as he spoke, "You'll have to catch me first."
He ran through the corridor, throwing the axe handle back at the Wardens as he went. Raziel emerged in a larger room, caught sight of burning crosses that dotted the floor in the distance. He skidded to a halt as padded rods slammed down in front of him. Raziel glanced back at the approaching Wardens and with no further hesitation he faded into the Spectral Realm. Ignoring the sluagh, who hissed in surprise, he phased through the bars that surrounded him.
Raziel moved quickly through the enormous room, and after a few wrong turns, found the exit, where he pulled back into the Physical Realm. He turned, and jumped out of the way of a massive black arm.
"You are unwise to call attention to yourself, Raziel," the Black Demon growled, moving towards him. Raziel ducked under bowed shoulders as the creature rushed him and ran through the corridor, cursing his luck. Now, not only were the Wardens after him, but the demons as well.
Raziel raced through the doorway and into a circular room. Warden statues were spaced in regular intervals around the edge of a pool of water. Perfect. The Soul Reaver plunged into the pool and swam to the very bottom, hiding near a pedestal in the center. He watched as six demons moved into the room. There were three Gas Demons, two of Fire, and a Lightning Demon. They searched the walls, looking around. A moment before he thought they would leave, one pointed to the water.
Raziel had learned long ago that the demons were more intelligent than they looked- either that, or the Elder God held enough power over them to do their reasoning Itself. The Gas Demons faded, and with a flash of rippling electricity, they were replaced by a dozen Lightning Demons.
Raziel cursed silently as a demon moved into place between each of the statues. They raised their claws as one, charged the deadly power they commanded, and plunged their claws into the pool. The Soul Reaver launched upward like a fish jumping out of water, grabbing hold of the pedestal as pale lightning flared across the surface of the water.
"We meet again, little Raziel," the Fire Demon growled. The vampire wraith wasted no words on the creature, shot a telekinetic blast at one of the Lightning Demons. The shot was exactly on target, hitting the creature's foot. The blast was not charged, but powerful enough for the demon to lose its balance, momentarily tottering on one foot before it fell into the pool, electrocuted by its own lightning.
Raziel was halfway across the pool before the other demons reacted. A fireball screamed past him, peeling flesh from his leg. The pain pierced him, but Raziel made no noise, only held out his wings and coaxed the Reaver into manifesting. He landed on the stone walkway and leapt into battle. The Soul Reaver cut down two Lightning Demons and dodged out of the way as a demon showered four others with its fiery breath destroying them instantly. He took just enough time to pull in one of those wandering souls before running for the door he'd seen on the other side of the room. Raziel got to the doorway and took cover just inside. Silence.
He edged around the doorway and caught the sight of the Wardens moving about in the room, one caught sight of him and called to the others. His eyes narrowed. Raziel turned and jumped over the edge, the Wardens shouting after him as they clustered behind the banister. Raziel turned, quickly studying his surroundings.
It was then he realized where he was. This was the front entryway, the one Moebius used to bring him here. The statue chamber. Here was his exit, here were the enormous metal doors which had no handles, no visible means of being opened, and here, in the center of the chamber, still sneering, was the statue of Moebius.
His jailers were making their way in, so Raziel threw himself at the statue, scaled the stone likeness of the Time Streamer and jumped into one of the alcoves in the wall. He became a lighter shadow against the dark, peering at the ground for some sign of the Wardens. They moved in slowly, looking around. Deciding that he must be in some other part of the prison, they left.
The former Guardians must not have been that impressive if their creations cannot find me, when the demons can, Raziel thought amusedly. Safe for the moment, the Soul Reaver moved from his niche, gliding to the floor in front of the dais. He turned slowly, and took his second long look at the statue.
He stared, remembering his dealings with the Time Streamer as if the events had occurred in another life, and perhaps they had. Perhaps Raziel had dwelt within Moebius' slice of hell long enough for a lifetime, or even two... but a human lifetime, or vampire's?
Words from long ago formed in his mind, echoed in the statue's sneer.
'...Poor, deluded Raziel...
...I'm the Time-Streamer - I knew your every intention before you did, you imbecile...
...did you imagine I'd simply allow you to run lose, corrupting everything you encounter...?
...you never imagined someone could be following after you... into the creature's private chambers...
...you are the Circle's assassin, Raziel...
...I shall be the one holding the sword... and you shall be the one within it...'
Raziel's eyes narrowed. He raised a hand, slowly, steadily, and held it, palm out towards the statue. For a moment the very air held its breath. Then there was a clap of displaced air erupting through the stillness.
The rush of movement struck the stone likeness in the chest, shaking a cloud of dust from the structure. Otherwise, nothing happened.
He pulled projectile after projectile from the core of his being and hurled them at the stone facsimile of his hated enemy, growling in the back of his throat.
Raziel continued to fire at the statue, neglecting to control his aim, and a shot went wide of the center, hitting the Stone Moebius' staff. The dark stone cracked and eight feet of staff toppled to the ground with a thunderous clatter. Raziel whirled around as a growling voice began to make chiding noises at him. A Black Demon slunk out of the shadows beneath one of the Warden statues.
"Feeling your inadequacy once again?" it growled amusedly. The Soul Reaver was instantly on his guard. He heard the heavy tread of the creature's fellows behind him. Raziel's gaze flicked to the side of the room, a wall against which he could put his back, and he edged towards it, turning slowly, keeping the first demon in his sights while bringing the others into view.
One growled softly, cloven hands spread, teeth bared. It crept towards him at that familiar, ungainly pace, red eyes burning at him. Another growl came from his left, where two more demons had appeared, their spines glinting cruelly in the dim light. Raziel summoned the Reaver, which sluggishly answered his call. Sensing the demons, it suddenly became hungry for battle. Raziel stood with his back to the wall, the five demons arranged in a wide circle around him.
They faced off, the five of them, each seeming to be waiting for something. Then one of the demons growled, took two steps forward and hurled a fireball at Raziel's chest. He crouched down and fired a telekinetic blast in response before turning and slashing at the other demon who'd used that opportunity to close the distance between them. The Reaver caught the demon on its arm, was swept off his feet by another, who charged in from the front. As he slammed backward into the wall, Raziel felt his flesh beginning to go, becoming more dust and vapor than tissue. He looked up and lunged around to the back of the demon before him. Two quick passes with the Reaver and the demon disappeared, its soul flying free for a bare instant before the blade pulled it in. The wraith blade was thrumming upon his arm, distracting him and further loosening his already tenuous hold on the Physical Realm.
A fireball caught him on the shoulder and Raziel swung around to face another of the demonic group. The massive beast growled in pleasure and slammed its clenched fists down, intending to crush the Soul Reaver beneath them. Raziel dodged the massive hands and slashed at its back, pulled the reaver in and used telekinetic blasts to send it after its brother. Raziel ducked another blow and sprung to the dais, barely avoiding the third demon as it spewed fire at him. The vampire wraith took shelter beneath the Time Streamer's statue. He snatched at the demonic soul, only to leave off the pull in favor of ducking away from another fireball. He pulled again, this time taking the soul into his being, and was rewarded by the feel of energy returning, his flesh strengthening, solidifying.
He shuffled backwards, keeping his eye a demon behind him, which was slowly moving up the stairs. It rushed him and Raziel jumped off the dais, the demon continued its headlong rush at the vampire wraith, the massive horns on its shoulders biting into the statue, causing it to rock dangerously on its feet. Raziel and the last demon faced off before the dais, unaware. The demon beside the statue chuckled darkly and pounded his fists against the stone, rocking it once again. The third blow sounded against the statue and was noticed as Moebius' statue tilted forward slowly.
Raziel cast startled eyes up as the stone image came crashing down, crushing the Soul Reaver and his opponent into the Spectral Realm. Raziel came to himself after a moment, and was staring into the face of the Black Demon, leading nearly fifty of his brethren.
"Now is it our turn to play," it snarled.
Raziel manifested some unknown time later on a high ledge, unreachable from the Physical Realm. Staggering, even though he was at full strength, he jumped out, grasped his wings to glide around, and grabbed the wall beside him. Raziel climbed up, jumped from the highest point and glided to another alcove. He did this twice more before settling on a ledge. The Soul Reaver sank to the ground, as close to the iron bars covering the window as he could get.
Numbly he stared out at the room, taking note of the statue, broken across the ground in a dozen pieces. He looked at the six Warden statues, two guarding the doors- the other four taking up residence in a semi-circle around them. A soft, dark chuckle echoed from the Soul Reaver for a moment, directed at the Time Streamer's statue. After a moment, he leaned back, absorbing the calm.
A pair of Acid Demons exploded into the room, dropping from thin air in flashes of green light. They dropped to the ground and moved through the room below, looking around. Raziel curled into a ball, narrowed his eyes, watching them. They searched the walls for him for a few moments, specifically, the place he'd used to manifest into the Physical Realm, then turned suddenly, staring at something only they could see. They whirled around as one and ran a few steps before disappearing into the Spectral Realm.
Raziel remained in his curled position, suspecting a trap, or the possible arrival of something much worse. Suddenly a change of magic filled the air. A circle of power, formed of light, appeared on the floor a split second before two forms appeared in the room.
The Soul Reaver held perfectly still, waiting for a clear glimpse of the new arrivals. One was of a height with himself. A vampire fledgling who still possessed human fingers, clawed though they were. Raziel took in the grey garb which seemed to be some kind of uniform. There was a patch of bright red over the vampire's heart that, although small, bore an all too familiar insignia.
A servant of Kain's? he thought. Certainly not one that I remember.
Raziel's interest grew. Perhaps these two could give him a hint as to the era in which he currently resided.
The Soul Reaver turned his eyes to the other and looked in astonishment at what he saw.
The creature was humanoid, but muscled more heavily than most humans Raziel had seen. It was clothed in a grand suit of golden armor with a strange insignia on a drape of cloth hanging about his waist. It too, was oddly familiar, resembling an altered version of the Sarafan sigil. The gold face mask and glowing green eyes helped to mark the creature as not human.
The fledgling stared blankly into space for a few moments, long enough for Raziel to realized the vampire was under some sort of spell.
His companion chuckled, a malevolent rumble of sound that carried throughout the room. Raziel's eyes narrowed. Somehow the voice was eerily familiar. The being turned and two things happened simultaneously. Raziel caught sight of the spiral hilt of a familiar sword, a fanged skull that rippled with violet light, and the wraith within him quickened as it sensed the energy of its younger twin, writhing inside the Reaver blade.
A voice whispered to him of the sweet pain and hunger of souls- the rending of flesh, and he was tempted, oh so tempted, to rush the creature, seize the Reaver and bury up to the hilt in his chest.
The moment passed slowly. As the now broken statue reminded him, Moebius was owed quite a bit of pain and suffering, and Raziel wished to repay that debt personally.
The Reaver whispered to its twin, reveling in the contact with its past self, and, released, Raziel's mind reeled with the implications of the creature's presence. What time was this? Never in Raziel's memory had Kain let the Reaver out of his grasp. He was in the past, but how far?
The creature seemed unaware of the sword's peculiar behavior, was intent on the young vampire. He continued chuckling and snapped his fingers, deactivating the spell, pulling the vampire into sudden consciousness.
He blinked once, then turned and dropped into a defensive posture before the creature. "What did you do to me, Sarafan Lord?" he hissed angrily.
What? Raziel wondered, suddenly more interested.
"You needed a lesson in humility, Magnus. A little spell and a you fell to the ground before my feet."
"Bastard," the vampire snarled. That was all he said before launching himself at the creature. The move was graceful, controlled, despite the rage that fuelled it, but the green-eyed creature was faster, drawing the Soul Reaver. It brought the vampire to a halt, the tip of the blade at is pale throat.
"The battle is over, Magnus," the being said calmly, "and by my new blade, I assume you can guess the victor."
"What have you done to my Liege Lord?" Magnus cried.
The cruel voice laughed, sounding infinitely pleased, "Your Liege is dead by my hand."
The vampire screamed, enraged, and leapt at the Sarafan Lord, heedless of the blade at his throat. The being caught Magnus by the throat and flung him to the ground, casting an idle lightning bolt at the vampire.
Through it all, Raziel felt a wild urge to laugh. He dared not give away his presence, but felt greatly amused by the situation he now witnessed. All this melodrama... and Kain wasn't even dead. He would have smiled, had he been able.
"I ran him through with my magic and pushed him off a cliff, to his death," the creature snickered. "As his champion, it is your place to challenge me to a fight, to the death... but we both know you cannot best me. I would rather have the strongest of Kain's soldiers for my bodyguard." Magnus gritted his teeth in disgust. The Sarafan Lord continued, unconcerned. "Of course, if not, you could remain here... in the Eternal Prison."
"I would throw myself to a watery death before I even thought about serving you," the vampire hissed.
"How unfortunate," the other murmured blandly. "Enjoy the duration of your un-life then, Magnus... it will last far longer than you will come to wish." The Sarafan Lord disappeared, and with him went the insistent pull of the other Soul Reaver.
Raziel sighed and leaned back, watching as the fledgling ran at the doors, clawing madly at the enormous metal surfaces. He jumped slightly and turned as a familiar flash of light appeared and the Wardens arrived to take charge of their new prisoner.
Magnus whirled around, his expression alarm tinged with disgust at the sight of the Wardens. They moved forward, mechanical parts whirring softly.
"A vampire," one of the constructs noted, drifting forward.
"The experiments will have to be modified," the other said, as if making a mental note. Magnus backed away, finally bumping into the doors at his back. He held out his hands, fingers splayed, waiting for the moment to attack. They bore down on him, hefting their scythes. Magnus bared his fangs and crouched down, ready to spring.
Suddenly, behind him, there was a shout and the whistle of claws moving through the air. A pale blue arm was visible behind the Warden's body for only a second.
The construct went down easily, with a surprised shout. The other turned.
"What are you doing?" It shouted at its attacker like a parent scolding a naughty child. There was no response as the claws flashed again and the other fell to the ground. Magnus was crouched on the ground, still ready to attack. When the Wardens were gone, he looked up, at a being made of flesh and bone and glowing blue eyes.
It gestured to the fallen beings and spoke. "They will revive before long. I suggest you leave before that happens."
"Who are you?" Magnus asked, staring in amazement at the creature.
It gave a small laugh. "A prisoner. Like you." Then it turned, moving quickly up the ramp. After a moment, Magnus rose and followed.
==========================
*grins* And there are some peeps from BO2! *grins* Sowwy people, but that's all. No one but Magnus & the Sarafan Lord- except for possible flashbacks.
Mutilated Magnus- You gave me a part!!!!!! *grabs Syvia and crushes her to his... chest* Oh thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou! I'll get my requisitioned portions of meat and a new friend to play with!
*Pats Magnus on the head* Okay, okay. You're welcome.... Magnus... put me down please.