(Glad to see a lot of people like the fic, things start taking a part in the Lok events from here.)

"An entire nest of the fiends." Summer had past autumn following soon after and already flakes of snow were beginning to fall down from the grey overcast sky overhead.

"But we had swept that area already." Nestled comfortably in it's cliffs, the stronghold was impervious to outside attack, and so those of night duty simply strode along the top of the walls, talking to each other, exchanging rumours and other pieces of gossip.

"Not well enough, but no matter." Ewoden had told no one what he had seen and felt when he spied on their Master, the time streamer. He wasn't sure if any one would believe him, besides, he wasn't sure if it believed what he saw himself. "We purged every last one of that group with fire." Clad entirely in Sarafan armour, made from silver and steal, one would never have guessed that he had been slave. As his side was a golden long bow, moulded into the shape of a pair of angels wings. He was also one of the few to carry a large axe, magically bless by the Sarafan sorcerers to inflicted more damage when it struck an opponent, especially if it's target was a vampire. "May their souls now rest." He looked to his companion a large, broad shouldered man called Darikoth as they crossed a bridge overhanging a small courtyard in the eastern wing of the stronghold. Snow falling all around them. A lot of the Sarafan army were away, doing various raids. One regiment had been dispatched to Azimuth Cathedral and probably wouldn't be coming back still next summer.

"Lord Moebius will be pleased." He said absently, detached from the other's devotion to the cause. In truth, while he had been encapsulated by the entire ambition the Sarafan had for a time, he had lost whatever motivation propelled the others. He paused as they reached the large gates refusing access to the stone building in front and indulged himself in moment of soul searching. It was getting harder and harder to maintain his service. He was grateful to the Sarafan for liberating him, but he didn't want them to serve them until his dying years. He considered trying to leave more than once but he could find no way to leave the stronghold undetected and permission was never, exactly, given.

His thoughts drifted again to Moebius and the strange stone he kept inside his chambers, through which he conversed with some…thing. What could he have been speaking with, and what exactly did he say, he couldn't remember now. But those horrible visions, they'd shaken him. He began to wonder, could Lord Moebius be one of the infamous demon worshippers of popular rumour? But to think of it, his knowledge of such things was that of a layman.

"Say, what do you know of demon worship?" He suddenly blurted out to his companion without thinking about it, who stood stock still and stared at him, his wide, stunned eyes clearly visible through the visor. They'd stopped on the battlements overlooked a courtyard just outside a pitted arena were Sarafan knights duelled each other for practise. The impaled victims of their crusade lining the abyss beyond the stronghold walls. It stood completely empty, snow lightly gathering on it's cold stone floor.

"Did I hear you correctly?"

"Yes, I said what do you know of demon…." The companion pushed him against the side of the wall. Ewoden was so caught of guard he exclaimed out loud. "Silence. Or I'll cut your throat!" Ewoden suddenly grew very silent, his hands pressed against the back of the wall. "You seek demon worship?" Ewoden was about to answer but his fellow Sarafan cut him off. "An unusual hobby for a Sarafan warrior, but I'll indulge you just the same." he paused to give the surrounding walkways a glance to ensure himself that they were alone. "There are those of use in the army who are loyal to the god, the one true god, the one good whose name remains unspoken in the church and the Circle." Ewoden began to wonder what it was that managed to land him in these ridiculous and dangerous situations. "If you're interested…" Darikoth reached into his bag, withdrawing a red book from a concealed pouch hidden under the leather. "The real holy scriptures." Ewoden looked slightly scared as he was passed the book, the pages open. Written in italic letters on the right hand page were words, that from the very first line sent a shiver down his spine. "Hash, ak, Gik spoke to the world and all who heard trembled. Bring me your first born and shed their blood upon the alter of the world so that I may take nourishment from them." Ewoden's mouth fell open in astonishment as Darikoth chanted the words. "Do this without question or suffer my wrath for eternity." He lifted the steal mask from over his face so Ewoden could see him probably. There was a large smile on his face. Ewoden realized with horror, he thought himself a missionary. "And it's will was done."

A loud scream ripped through the air, quickly silenced.

"What was that?!" His companion demanded, snapping his head up, quickly pushing the book back into it's hiding place.

Pushing past Ewoden, he began running back the way he came, making some presumption that the source of the sudden disturbance. Ewoden remained steadfast, rotted to the spot. His mind numb from terror. Not only Moebius, now the Sarafan soldiers themselves were conversing with strange gods…even worshiping them….shedding the blood of their first born, doing it willingly? How far into the army had this corruption spread?

"Vae Victus!" The words pounded out of oblivion, followed by another, quickly silenced masculine scream. Suddenly, a pair of doors on the far side of the battlements that lead into the interior of the stronghold burst open. Ewoden looked up. He'd expected to see more Sarafan soldiers, but instead was greeted by a solitary figure.

At first he was filled with intense fear, mistaking the figure for the infamous vampire Vorador. But as it stepped into the winter light, it's features were observed far better. Indeed it hard green skin like Vorador, but it's physically appearance was far more muscular. It's hair was long and snow white, tied back behind it by a golden band. Several horns, covered it's what appeared to be it's segmented green skin, lined it's forehead in neat rows. It wore nothing apart from a red drape over it's right shoulder and a leather belt around it's chest waist upward. A strange, highly uncommon pair of black trousers, bound at the waist by a steal belt. In it's right hand it brandished the strangest blade Ewoden had ever seen. An ivory skull hilt with two pairs of horns leading off at either side. The blade itself was mint green and curved, almost like the waves on the surface of water. Fresh blood was dripping from it's tip. But what gave itself away were the cloven feet and hands, each protected by bone marrow gauntlets and greaves.

"An elder vampire." Ewoden hissed to himself, reaching for his long bow and arrows. Before he could move however the vampire stretched out it's left hand and instantly Ewoden found himself restricted. Whatever happened had stripped him of mobility, no matter now hard he tried, he could not budge an inch. The vampire drew it's hand close to itself, and Ewoden found himself following it like a loyal dog, flung through the air toward the vampire's waiting arms.

"Whatever gave you the idea was simply going to let you assault me?" It asking, holding him in place for a moment, before flinging him across the battlements, slamming him into the wall. The shock passed through his body, weakening him significantly. His strength failing. Ewoden collapsed to the floor, barely supporting his weight on his hands. He tore off his helm, hardly able to breath with it on.

He felt the tip of the vampire's sword rest gently on the back of his neck, the blood running down his skin, Goosebumps appearing all over his skin. "Where is your master?" Ewoden managed to pull his head up to look the vampire in the eyes. They were bright yellow, the pupils silted like those of a felines. A long scar stood out on his chest. "Before I loose my patience." He reached down and picked the Sarafan up by the head, his large palms covering his face. "Moebius is…" Ewoden could fell the vampire's grip tightening. He knew that if he didn't answer, he would crush his head.

"In the tower…" He replied in the muffled voice.

"Good. You may go now." The vampire replied, before tossing Ewoden over his head and back through the open doorway though which he'd just come. Sliding across the marble floor once he landed, before coming to a stop at the stone wall. It took him a few moments to regain himself, but eventually when he did look up the vampire was gone. The one evidence that he had been there at all were the strange tracks left in the snow.

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(Working up to something. Bear with the unbearable short chapters)