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DISCLAIMER:
I do not own anything related to Legacy of Kain apart from legally purchased copies of the games.
All names from the game series used herein are owned by Eidos/Crystal Dynamics/Silicon Knights and are ™ & © of the same.
Any similarity between persons or vampires living, dead or undead created by other writers is purely coincidental.
If you feel I have impinged on any copyrights with the content of this piece please do not hesitate to contact me.
Dulrayth Alabrion is my own creation…please ask before 'borrowing'.
~*LM*~
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Chapter Two: Vorador
Three hours I spent trudging through the dank swampland in an effort to find the master of Termogent House. Not an easy task, I can assure you. At dusk, I finally made the doors to his formidable gothic sanctuary, my legs burned and scarred through several falls into the murky waters that surrounded the house, my robes ruined and my patience worn dangerously thin. Flight was impossible in such dense woodland canopy as this; thus, I had been forced to traipse through this blasted quagmire hour after tedious hour in search of access, with the eyes of Vorador's eldritch Ravens firmly fixed upon me.
Standing before the massive oaken doors I did what I could to remedy the rather sorry state of my attire and then laid hand to the ornate brass gargoyle knocker giving three sharp raps with the ring and calling: "Vorador! I would speak with you!"
From deep within the hallway I heard the baritone reply of the vampire himself, "Who are you that dares enter the Termogent forest?!"
Biting back a curse at his pompous tone I returned venomously, " I am known to you as Dulrayth Alabrion, Janos Audron's ward and keeper of the Sanctuary. Open the door, this matter cannot wait!"
I heard the bolts slide back upon the other side and waited as the door creaked open before me. What I saw shadowed in the candle light within the hallway horrified me. The once noble vampire stood before me, a cruel parody of his former self. Gone was the chiselled face and moonlight pale skin, gone too the once abundant raven locks. What stood before me was a creature of human nightmare. Green skinned, cat eyed and savage. He bowed deeply at the waist; "I see my appearance gives cause for concern, old friend. Pay it no heed." He looked up at me; his cat like yellow irises held pain and mockery, "Enter. It is rare I see anyone of our kin from the Sanctuary now."
He stepped aside, permitting me entrance. His heavy scarlet velvet robes falling about him in a quiet sweep. I stepped within. "Have you traded your sword for artistry and decadence then, Vorador?" I remarked as my gaze travelled around the opulent décor of the hallway. Mahogany panelling adorned the walls; burgundy drapes hid the light from the windows and pictures in gilt frames - although bloodthirsty in subject matter - hung proudly along the length of the edifice. Beneath my feet the floor was of expensive black and white veined marble tiles, with strategically placed rugs.
Vorador smirked, showing the merest hint of his fangs, "Why should I not? I am lord and master of this house. I intend to live as comfortably as I may." He shut and once more bolted the oaken door, "Come."
He led me through a maze of extravagantly decorated candle lit rooms and hallways. Finally staying his steps at another doorway, throughout the journey I could not miss the harrowing screams that haunted the corridors nor the ever-present scent of spilled blood. As if noting my disquiet at the issue Vorador chuckled, "My children take great delight in avenging the wrongs done them by the Sarafan. I keep a small number of humans captive for their amusement."
My eyes narrowed as I returned darkly, "There is a fine line between revenge and sadism, Vorador. Ware which side of the divide you stand."
Turning sharply on his heel my host growled, brandishing an accusing finger at me, "I stand on the victorious side Dulrayth. These humans are no better than animals, a herd to be thinned that our kind may once more take our rightful place as gods!"
So, the curse had not only twisted his body, it had corrupted his mind. He saw himself as a god, ruler supreme over all he surveyed, "Your arrogance ill becomes you, Vorador. Be wary that it does not cause your downfall." I warned. I had seen others fall into this trap many times over. As Janos' first born I could not allow history to repeat itself in Vorador's case.
Vorador cast an angry glance in my direction as he opened the door and ushered me inside. Within stood a heavy, highly polished table littered with scrolls, maps and such alike. So, this was his study. I noted with some surprise the oil paintings that adorned this particular room. The previous subjects of bloody carnage I had seen were replaced by elegant murals depicting us. The centrepiece of this was a magnificent likeness of Janos wielding the Reaver before the Hylden Hordes. I was gratified to see that he had not truly disowned his heritage.
Standing before me Vorador took in the room with a deliberate sweep of his arm, inviting my comment on matters. I remained silent; I had not come here to discuss his taste in ornamentation. Nodding coolly at my mute state, he seated himself at the head of the table and beckoned me to follow suit, "So, old friend, what truly brings you to my door? Surely Janos has not merely sent you to chastise me as you so seemingly take great delight in." He frowned, steepling his talons before his face as he rested his elbows upon the table.
Taking a deep breath to steady myself I lowered my gaze and took a seat, spreading my wings behind me and over the back of the chair. "No, Vorador. He has not…although I am here in his stead…" how could I continue? It had been but a day at best since the bloody deed of his murder had taken place. Now, confronting this fact for the first time I found my words thickened with grief. I bit my lower lip, hoping the brief discomfort would take me past the emotional barrier.
Vorador seemed oblivious to my predicament and prompted me with a cursory nod, "Well then, what is your business here?" Conjuring a goblet of blood to his hand he supped at it and waited.
Very well then, I would pose no longer. My poetic tongue had abandoned me. The truth will out, I announced quietly: "Janos Audron has fallen to the Sarafan…"
To my surprise my hosts grasp upon his beverage faltered, he dropped the goblet heavily onto the tabletop its contents spilling over the edge to spread in a damning pool at its foot. "Then we are doomed." Vorador stated finally, "With the last true guardian dead this world is beyond redemption." His voice rose as rage consumed him, slamming the flat of his palm upon the table top with a deafening roar he announced, "I will have Blood for this deed! The Circle will pay! They will pay…damn them…" Vorador choked back tears and groaned as his rage subsided and gave way to grief, "Do you speak the truth, Dulrayth?" he asked quietly.
All I could do was nod, in mute comprehension at his torment. I reached out a tentative hand and laid it upon his shoulder in consolation, offering what little support I could. Despite my best intentions, I had given my fallen brother one more reason to hate humanity. He had lost his wives, his children and now his Sire to their blades.
That night the Termogent Forest rang with a different cry. The keen wail of anguish and grief.
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…To Be Continued…
~*Authors Note*~
Unfortunately, I'm off to sunny Canada for the next fortnight on my hols though, so there won't be much happening here as of Monday. *But* when I get back I'll make up for that…*snigger*
~*LM*~
( PS: Anyone have any idea on the names of the 6 Circle sorcerers Vorador killed prior to BO1 pls? *E me: xenith(at)blueyonder(dot)co(dot)uk or leave me a scribble in my review section *)
