FALL OF DUMAH 3
As Nosgoth had limped into its twilight, all of the empire had degenerated, mostly into mire and muck. Of all these lands, those belonging to Dumah had fared best. As Kain flitted through gaunt and sickly trees and over worn hills that had once been mountains, the land's soft movements, be they rippling grass or scuttling creature, ceased. Mist began to permeate the air, ice to coat the ground. Life withered away and was replaced by stoic and selfish rock, that stood in jutting solitude and dared any to try and find solace on their sharp-edged facade. As Kain flew deeper into the land, rain began to fall, freezing on its way to earth to land with all the grace of a rain of pebbles on the earth below and to pelt his bat-cloud with ceaseless yet futile fury.
Vampire-built structures were all that had withstood the ravages of this harsh land, and they only through maintenance from their builders, the only beings who now occupied the territory. Kain saw beneath him towers and temples, the latter all to him, of course, the former occasionally manned by hunched shapes which glared with red-eyed hunger at the world around, hoping no doubt for some scrap of fresh blood to foolishly wander their way.
Finally, Kain came upon the city of the Dumahim, a painstakingly built mass of defensible corridors and trapped courtyards, bridge upon bridge able to be raised to cut off a section of the city in case of attack. Or at least they would be, if anyone bothered to man the mechanisms anymore. The Dumahim had decided long ago that they had better things to see to, Kain had found, highest among them their own overinflated egos.
He flew down to coalesce before the gates, tall blocks of stone that could only be moved by hand, or more precisely by claw, for no mortal would ever enter Dumah's home through these doors. At either side the gate was framed by high pillars of stone that were topped by angular formations that resembled horned helms, these the lookout towers standing temporarily and invitingly unmanned. Purple flags bearing Dumah's symbol whipped in the wind which drove the hail down upon the earth and ripped at Kain's cloak and hair as bats melted together and formed into them, a darkened wing blurring into crimson fabric as the wind caught at him. His eyes looked about momentarily at the arching walls which spread out from the pillars to engulf him, as if they thought themselves master of all who stood before them. But he was now ruled by none, and intended that state to remain forever.
"What foolish creature goes there?" A hunched figure hissed, as one of the gate guards stomped onto its place at the top of one of the pillars, the horns atop them spreading out seemingly from its chest.
The Dumahim had changed. They had once been fair of form, resembling their great creator to some degree, as he had come to resemble his one-time mentor, Vorador. Now they were hunched creatures that nonetheless stood as tall as the tallest of men, their flesh hardened to the texture and colour of iron that screeched and sparked when struck with steel. Red points now blazed from their sockets, at the head of elongated heads which bore fang-filled maws. Once, the Dumahim had been the masters of all weapons. Now they bore only their claws, for those could cleave flesh and cut steel, while their fists would shatter the strongest stone before bearing the slightest dent. Kain was not impressed.
He reached out with a single claw and reached out with his blood, commanding the very forces of the world to obey and bending them effortlessly to his will. Bonds of telekenetic energy entrapped the vampire, paralyzing its limbs and plucking it from the stylised parapet, then drawing it inexorably and swiftly through the driving hail until its throat was held in Kain's claw, its maw mere inches from his face. Its pinprick eyes widened to fill its sockets with horror. "Your lord and master, child," Kain intoned. The vampire began to babble, its fangs clinking on each other as the words were caught, while its claws gestured frantically. Kain opened his claw, and the vampire was thrust away from him by a blast of such strength that when its back struck the stone doors, it seemed that they moved an inch. "And I have come to speak with my lieutenant," Kain went on in a casual tone that cut through the wind and hail with ease to reach the ears of those who had now gathered around the watchtowers.
An instant passed, perhaps a heartbeat, and then words which had not been spoken for an outsider in nearly a century rang out with haunting clarity. "Open the gate!"
Kain began to walk forward, wrenching the Dumahim to its feet as he approached its fallen form and depositing it at his side as the gates began to open before him, the process speeding up as those manning the mechanism realised they were going to impede their lord if they weren't quick about it. "You shall be my guide," Kain said with an ironic chuckle as he effortlessly outpaced the vampire, who staggered drunkenly after him, reaching to hold its back with one clawed hand and rubbing its head with the other.
"Y... yes, my lord!" The Dumahim hissed out with some difficulty. "My name is Yacar... I think."
The gate opened out onto a high-walled courtyard with arched alcoves, the roof deliberately left open to the elements, a flat statement that those within were not afraid of what Nosgoth might hold for them be it day or night. At the far end of the courtyard, a pair of oaken doors each twice Kain's size offered passage further into the structure. The ground before these doors was cut into square blocks, with interlocking circles engraved upon them and the diamond-shaped spaces thus created filled by crossed swords. From the very top of the walls which occupied Kain's flanks, the other three vampires that Dumah had placed in charge of the gate stared in open-mawed wonder at their lord and master, having not stood in his presence for their entire existence. Kain had not visited Dumah since the immediate aftermath of Raziel's demise, over three hundred years ago. Then, these walls had thronged with archers that stood to attention, ready at all times to strike down the enemies of the empire who might dare to deface the walls of Dumah's home with their presence, for this courtyard was designed with that intention in mind.
"I will open the doors for you," Yacar said, scurrying forward, hunching down onto hands and feet to bound like an enormous ape ahead of Kain, but as he reached for them Kain gestured with one claw and they were thrown open with such force as to crack them when they struck the walls within, and Kain walked past the stunned vampire without comment.
The next area was identical, but for the raised portcullis which stood at the other end, the secondary line of defense should any foe breach the main gate. The floor here was completely covered by ice, which crackled as Kain's clawed feet drove sticking points into it with unconscious ease, the Dumahim loping beside him with a similar gait. Finally, Kain thought, this loathsome creature has shown some small amount of the divinity which is its heritage.
Kain passed beneath the portcullis without pause or remark, Yacar now striding a little ahead of him, the grave injuries inflicted by being tossed so savagely against the gates already healed. A roof appeared over his head as he entered a corridor that ended in another portcullis, while a second corridor curved off to the right and led to the rooms of the gate guards, rooms now barely used, for they were fashioned centuries ago when the Dumahim still walked like men.
"This way, my lord," Yacar said, half turning as it passed beneath the portcullis and bowing as it turned away again, its head swishing around as if catching up with its body, "master Dumah will likely be in his throne room now."
They entered a wide and open courtyard, thronged with Dumahim shouting abuse at one another in their hissing voices and laughing at the fights which broke out among their number. Kain paused but a moment to survey the scene, looking solemnly over the mass of dark skinned creatures that bore no visible relation to him. They turned in drips and drabs to gaze with wonder upon their true master, and bowed their heads to him. The fledglings went to their knees, of course, their long heads scraping the icy stone and skin sticking to it. The elders, filled to bursting with pride and arrogance, thought of Kain as less than he once was, and would no more bow to him than they would to any of their kin. Kain smiled, finding the thought of these pompous creatures skewered and motionless on the cold stone of their own home to be an amusing one indeed. Once, when they were creatures worthy of his blood, there would never have been so many gathered in this place. Kain remembered passing this way and meeting no Dumahim in the halls at all, for they were manning the posts, ever-vigilantly watching for invaders. Now, like the rightly forgotten empires of millenia past, they left their walls barren, arrogantly sure that nobody would ever dare to take their offering.
Kain strode on, outpacing Yacar in moments as he walked down a short corridor that opened out onto a bridge of blue iron, a series of stone platforms erected above, at the top of which lay the now unmanned device which would raise or lower the bridge below. A hulking Dumahim that stood over a foot taller than Kain despite its hunch loped onto the bridge from the other end, and walked past him without a second glance. How easy it would have been for Kain to draw the soul reaver and annihilate the creature at that very moment, to deliver its rightful punishment. But in truth, that was coming with the Human invaders. If they failed, as Kain thought that perhaps they might with this warning, then he would speak with that creature and remind it of its place.
They moved from the bridge to a corridor which turned into another junction point, with an area of iron gating occupying the middle ground in which there was contained a tall obelisk of dark stone, and inlaid upon it there were hundreds of runes written in the classical Nosgothian blood script, runes which read out 'the litany of Kain'. These were the various sutras and prayers that should be said in His name each day and night by the devoted, and the doctrine by which he had lived his life and forged the empire. Now it stood abandoned and gathering dust, ignored by the very creatures who had once followed it most intently.
Kain paused, and folded his arms across his chest, turning his head momentarily to see the multiple engravings of Dumah's clan symbol upon the walls, each so meticulously attended to that it seemed as if it had been hewn only this morning by the finest of stonecutters.
"Is there something the matter, my lord?" Yacar asked.
"I find it curious that this obelisk gathers dust, fledgling. Have you an explanation for this oddity?" Kain asked darkly.
Yacar shrugged, glancing at it vaguely. "The obelisk is nothing more than a part of the city, my lord. Master Dumah believes we should pay more interest to those matters which benefit the clan than those which are merely curiousities of architecture."
"And do you find nothing about this particular 'curiousity' which is worthy of observation, fledgling?" He asked, expression becoming stormy and brow furrowing deeply. Yacar began to look ill at ease. "Is there nothing here that your master believes is worthy of notice or study?"
Yacar looked at the obelisk as if seeing it for the first time. It leant forwards, then walked to the nearest stretch of gate and peered between two of the bars as if looking into darkness, then looked at Kain, its pinprick eyes a little wider, but no other noticeable change upon its face. "I see nothing, my lord," Yacar hissed, the words scraping and sibilant, yet carrying a small hint of embarassment. "Just a four sided rock with squiggles on it."
And then, Kain understood. "Can you read those 'squiggles', fledgling?"
"Read them?" Yacar exclaimed as if Kain was suggesting he fly to the sun.
"Enough! Take me to your master, immediately," Kain snapped, already having strode past the fledgling and begun his path down the long corridor that led to Dumah's throne room. Yacar ran to catch up, rising up out of all fours as he drew up to Kain's side, and together they came to the heavy iron doors which stood fifteen feet high and bore in their centre, spread across the two to be split asunder when they were opened, a man-high engraving of the clan's symbol. As Yacar moved forward to open them, Kain pre-empted it with a contemptuous gesture and a curl of his lip, and the doors were pulled forward to slam against the walls of the corridor, nearly crushing Yacar as they did.
And there in the distance, sat upon his throne with the ease of one who sat there for long hours each day, was Dumah.
Had Kain not already witnessed how the coming days would play out, he would perhaps have been shocked to see his lieutenant today, for Dumah was unrecognisable from the vampire, and indeed the man, he had once been. Where once he had stood a little above Kain's height, now he towered over him by a number of feet. Where once his skin had been white like the other lieutenants', now it was hardened into a dark blue colour and visibly dissected into recognisable 'plates', making it appear that he was melded into a suit of armour. This impression was if anything magnified by the distortions of his head, which appeared now to be some unholy helm from which two deep points of crimson light glinted from above a fanged mouth. But unlike his spawn, Dumah still stood tall and strong, a walking pillar that defied any attempt to topple it, an embodiment of the empire's strength. It suddenly occurred to Kain, now, seeing Dumah with his own eyes after so long, how utterly appropriate it was for this fate to befall him over any of the others.
A step beyond the threshold of the doors took Kain onto a carpet of the deepest crimson, into which were woven stylised drops of dark blood, the angles sharpened to make them seem almost as diamonds. Beginning on the walls at either side of the door, a band of white ran dissected the glazed stone slabs and bore long lines of writing in old blood script, reading the words 'herein sits Dumah, Lord of War' over and over again, as if a mantra to be recited. Where the lines met, the throne itself began, its lines and curves designed to resemble a suit of armour for a creature of man size. The high back seemed as if a guard to protect against beheading strokes from the rear. The raised arms of the chair, with their subtle lower alcoves where the arms of the lord could rest more comfortably, seemed the beginning of shoulder pads which then curved out in stony wedges. These framed stained glass of whites and purples refracted the light which was given out by the four braziers, which were suspended from the roof by lengths of heavy chain. Immediately behind the throne and to either side were three vertically emphasised stained glass windows, the latter pair also blazing purple and white, the former individual bearing greens of varying hues which grandly offset the blazing yellow and red disc which reminded Kain of a powerful sunset, in which was suspended the darkness of the Dumahim clan symbol.
In the room's rounded corners, to the throne's far left and right, stood two gigantic statues, which dwarfed Dumah even in his exalted state, horned monsters which each bore a stave -- the weapon which was once the signature of clan Dumah. These two statues were carved centuries ago, when two creatures that resembled these statues exactly wandered from the mountains and pillaged the then-plentiful Human cattle that Dumah had called his own and shattered any vampires sent against them; until Dumah had slain them both with his bare claws. Those had been gentler times, Kain thought. Slightly.
Kain strode towards the throne, occupying the exact center of the carpet, his steps filling each drop of blood as he passed it. Yacar loped beside him, hanging back slightly, now, as it found itself in the presence of both of its masters, and began to truly realise its own insignificance in this meeting. Dumah's helm-like head tilted forward slightly as Kain approached, then his burning eyes flared slightly, and he leant forward with a sound like rattling chainmail. "So," he said, his voice loud and echoing unnaturally from his plated throat, "the Lord of Nosgoth comes before me once again. To what, pray tell, do I owe this unexpected pleasure?" He asked, his tone bordering that of a deep and thunderous sneer.
"I thought perhaps to invade," Kain said casually, "but upon seeing the defences of your walls I realised the task would be too easy, and so instead I deemed to parley with you."
Dumah's eyes widened slightly, then narrowed. He sat back in his throne again, then frowned, and let out a long, hollow laugh, throwing his head back and baring his throat as if daring Kain to strike for it. "Oh, my lord, your sense of humour is unchanged, I see! In a way it is pleasing to discover that there is something in our empire which remains so."
"My empire, Dumah," Kain said flatly, wondering inwardly if in his youth he had ever resembled this arrogant and pompous fool.
Dumah looked upon Kain again, a thin smile prickling the edges of his plate-armour lips. "Of course, master. What else could I have meant? Leave us, Yacar, there is a private reunion to be had today," Dumah said, gesturing with an arm as thick around as the fledgling's torso and, Kain noticed, shaking loose no small amount of dust from the surface of his skin. He could not help but smile at that. In the past, he himself had risen from meditation, only to discover the revolution of a week had passed, and that his body had become nearly obscured by dirt from the air. "Do not concern yourself with the doors," Dumah said, and gestured. There was the sound of groaning iron, and then a heavy booming noise as the doors closed.
"I see your powers have grown, Dumah," Kain observed quietly.
"And I see that yours have not, Kain," Dumah replied, barely containing the contempt in his voice. "How strange it is that while your children change and grow like the turning seasons, you remain static and turgid! After all these centuries, after feeling my true power, I begin to wonder about your true motives for casting my brother into the abyss. Is it because, truly, you looked upon him and realised that you were inferior?"
Kain did not react visibly, but internally he began to seeth. To hear his impudent offspring speak in such tones was enough to make his blood boil, and his claws to twitch in readiness of clasping the Soul Reaver's hilt. But he was older, now. And wiser. "And if a mountain remained the same after twenty thousand years, through thunder and calamity, would you look also upon its state as weakness? As for yourself, do not mistake my compliment. You are not my equal."
Dumah let out a rasping laugh. "Oh, no, Kain. No, I am not your equal," he laughed, and while the words went unsaid, Kain knew what Dumah would have said. "But surely," Dumah said, his laugh stopping suddenly, abruptly, without a hint of its ever existing, "you must look upon me and be proud? Have I not ascended far above what your other mewling brats are capable of? Am I not by far the greatest embodiment of those very values you instilled into us at our rebirths?" Dumah asked, gesturing at himself in quite the most narcissistic manner, and Kain found himself imagining, with a smile, Dumah standing before a mirror and polishing himself.
"In what manner do you embody those values, Dumah? Is it in the manner of your strength, which you pair so well with your stupidity and arrogance, or is it in your wordplay?" Kain asked with a cruel half-smile, born from the sure knowledge of Dumah's approaching fate. Suddenly, he wondered if his intended plan was worth carrying out.
"You dare!" Dumah roared, and slammed his hands against the arms of his throne, once over-sized but now so small in comparison to his bulk. The impact was such that it rose him to his feet to tower over his lord, his eyes blazing with infernal fury and mouth opened in a snarl... until he saw to where Kain's right hand had drifted.
There was no other change in Kain's posture, really. He still stood with his left arm folded into his crimson shawl. But his right now firmly gripped the hilt of the Soul Reaver, the skull-embossed hilt prominently visible over his left shoulder, the empty eyes carrying a promise to any who looked upon them. Dumah saw the blade. He straightened up, then shook his arms to a sound like that of a hundred suits of armour crashing into one another as his trunk-like muscles shook, and finally he sat back down in his throne, as regal and calm as he could ever be. "I see you still favour your toys over your own power, Kain," Dumah hissed contemptuously.
"I see no need to flaunt my powers, when I have a tool that more than adequately represents them," Kain replied softly, taking his hand from the blade and crossing it across his chest once more.
"And I wonder, is that the true story of The Raising of The Six?" Dumah mused, raising one hand to rest on his chin and his massive body turning to lean against one side of the throne. "Did the great lord Kain, in looking upon the lands of Nosgoth, see his own weakness and so create fitting tools with which to supplement his meagre power?" Dumah taunted.
"Your power comes from mine, Dumah," Kain pointed out. "Any insult you deliver to me is one you deliver to yourself."
"No!" Dumah stated, pointing accusatorily. "In the beginning, certainly, but look upon me now and tell me that I am your son! Tell me this, father," Dumah said, his voice rattling in his throat unpleasantly, as if a mighty sword being drawn from its sheath, "in what way do we resemble one another? By what manner would any observer look upon us and see that we are related in any way?" Kain smiled, and a laugh rocked his shoulders slightly. "Answer me!" Dumah roared, his tone absolutely expecting an answer and eyes blazing once again.
"How else, my son, but in temperament?" Kain said, making a casual gesture with his hand.
Dumah's red eyes suddenly softened, and his expression became thunderstruck. He reared back in his throne, and thought about it for a moment. Then he smiled. And then he laughed. He laughed long and loud, his twisted voice echoing off the stone walls of the room and drowning out his master and father's soft, ironic chuckle. Kain found, having spoken the words, that it was true. More so than any other of his lieutenants, Dumah's fiery temperament and perhaps misplaced self-confidence reminded him of himself. But unlike Dumah, Kain intended to live to learn from the mistakes of his life.
Finally, the mirth left Dumah, ending as suddenly as his earlier laugh, stopping as though the one issuing the noise had been decapitated. Dumah looked upon Kain again, and settled back into his throne. "So, master. What brings you out to the Northern Wastes to speak to your little Dumah?" He asked, then chuckled softly.
"I bear a warning, child," Kain said, feeling a slighty heaviness within as he finally reached the grim intention of his visit. "A warning against your rapidly approaching demise."
"Oh?" Dumah asked, his voice more curious than surprised. "And from what quarter does this demise come from, father?"
"From a group of Humans that have struck out from their isolated citadel," Kain said. He was not surprised by Dumah's reaction.
The great leader of clan Dumah first leant forwards as if straining to hear, then his eyes widened, and then another laugh echoed out through the room. "Humans?" Dumah exclaimed, incredulous. "And what are they to do, oh father? Beat upon my feet with pebbles? Or, or are they to knock politely on my gates of stone so that they can actually get inside in the first place? Or perhaps they bring with them the ancient weapon that the accursed Sarafan once used to aid their quest to slaughter our kind? Oh, no, even better! Each of them bears a Soul Reaver!" Dumah exclaimed, pointing with a shaking finger which was as wide as Kain's hand, at the Soul Reaver, then bursting out into laughter, his whole frame shaking with it, and it seemed that an entire company of armoured men were falling into a rocky crevice, as Dumah's steely skin scraped sparks off his stone throne. Finally, his mirth subsided, and Dumah rested back in his throne. "Oh, father, how terribly cutting is your sense of humour. Tell me, honestly, why did you come here? You have visited none of us for centuries, as I understand it."
Kain fixed his lieutenant with an even stare. "I speak the truth, Dumah, and I am not inclined to waste my breath on false warnings."
Dumah chuckled. "Oh, how sad it is, father. Finally I see things as they truly are," he said, leaning forward to regard his master with an amazed expression. "The centuries, Kain, have addled your mind and rendered you witless! Go! Walk among my clan and tell me then how any of the mortal scum might harm us! We, whose skin turns the blade and snaps the lance! We, who think nothing of snow and rain, who laugh at all but the gravest of threats to our being! I, who stands undefeated in battle for four hundred years, who has grown both in stature and commensurately in power!" Dumah shouted, gesticulating broadly and proudly as he spoke of his great clan, his mighty arms sweeping high, almost reaching the yellow and red engraving of his clan symbol that occupied the centre of the stained glass window behind him. "And then," Dumah hissed, "we have the humans. Rag-tag remnants of those fools who have turned away from the empire and fled from their lords to cower in that pathetic citadel to the west, who fight with swords upon which our sharp eyes can see the rust that was scraped from them merely hours before battle, who fight with weapons they stole from my incompetent brother Melchiah. They cower in terror from Rahab's raiders, who drag their men and women into the rivers and drink them dry to spit their worthless corpses out as a warning to them, and they flee at the mere mention of my name! They will harm me?" Dumah roared, his voice swelling with indignation and his fist striking his chest as if it were a gong, and letting out a grinding slither as his claws were raked across his chest.
There was silence then, for a few moments, as servant and master, son and father, looked into each other's eyes. One looked in challenge, one in the calm certainty of sure knowledge. One felt insulted merely to hear such a ludicrous suggestion, the other felt irritatingly certain that his coming here was, in the end, a waste of his precious time.
It was Dumah who finally broke the silence. "Leave this place, Kain. Go to your mountain sanctuary if you fear the pathetic remnants of the Human's resistance, and cower there with the broken relics of the past! If they come, they will die. Or have you some other decree for their fate?"
"No," Kain replied evenly, "but should they fail, Dumah, then we shall speak again, and you may not be well pleased by the outcome of our conversation. For now, take heed. Be wary of your revels, lest they usher in your demise." So saying, Kain raised his arms and disappeared in a glow of emerald energy.
Dumah lay back in his throne, his lips curling in a sneer as he considered how weak his one-time master had become. It was almost an insult to think that he had ever served that creature, and that he still had to pay lip service to his Soul Reaver. Dumah gestured at the double doors and they were opened by the hard push of his telekenetic powers. The fledgling Yacar was revealed, now wearing an expression of the utmost embarassment. Dumah smiled. "Bring me my goblet, and blood. And make double preparations for the festival! It seems we have more to celebrate than I had originally believed."
AUTHOR'S NOTES: I took a bit of creative licence on the Dumahim, as anyone who's played SR1 will know that they DON'T run like apes and they're not quite as large as I suggest they are. I think I might also have overplayed how big Dumah is, but then the last time I fought him I remember being Raziel and having endless fun trying to scratch my name into his shins so maybe not.
A question or two for my reviewers (no prizes for correct answers, unfortunately. Well, maybe zen hugs):
1. Does Dumah come across as impressive, and are his various rants colourful and/or amusing? (I personally love the comment about the vampire hunters all bearing Soul Reavers)
2. Do you believe that the hunters you know are coming after him have a chance?
3. Do you think I characterised Kain well?
4. For that matter, do you think I characterised Dumah well? (I suppose it's hard since he gets three spoken lines of dialogue in SR1, one of which is 'ARGH', but I thought they were very well chosen lines!)
5. Is the description of the Dumah clan home nice and vivid and other words which might sound like a character from a popular roleplaying series? (sub-question: Do any of you know what I'm talking about here?)
Thanks for reading, and any additional time you take out to review.
As Nosgoth had limped into its twilight, all of the empire had degenerated, mostly into mire and muck. Of all these lands, those belonging to Dumah had fared best. As Kain flitted through gaunt and sickly trees and over worn hills that had once been mountains, the land's soft movements, be they rippling grass or scuttling creature, ceased. Mist began to permeate the air, ice to coat the ground. Life withered away and was replaced by stoic and selfish rock, that stood in jutting solitude and dared any to try and find solace on their sharp-edged facade. As Kain flew deeper into the land, rain began to fall, freezing on its way to earth to land with all the grace of a rain of pebbles on the earth below and to pelt his bat-cloud with ceaseless yet futile fury.
Vampire-built structures were all that had withstood the ravages of this harsh land, and they only through maintenance from their builders, the only beings who now occupied the territory. Kain saw beneath him towers and temples, the latter all to him, of course, the former occasionally manned by hunched shapes which glared with red-eyed hunger at the world around, hoping no doubt for some scrap of fresh blood to foolishly wander their way.
Finally, Kain came upon the city of the Dumahim, a painstakingly built mass of defensible corridors and trapped courtyards, bridge upon bridge able to be raised to cut off a section of the city in case of attack. Or at least they would be, if anyone bothered to man the mechanisms anymore. The Dumahim had decided long ago that they had better things to see to, Kain had found, highest among them their own overinflated egos.
He flew down to coalesce before the gates, tall blocks of stone that could only be moved by hand, or more precisely by claw, for no mortal would ever enter Dumah's home through these doors. At either side the gate was framed by high pillars of stone that were topped by angular formations that resembled horned helms, these the lookout towers standing temporarily and invitingly unmanned. Purple flags bearing Dumah's symbol whipped in the wind which drove the hail down upon the earth and ripped at Kain's cloak and hair as bats melted together and formed into them, a darkened wing blurring into crimson fabric as the wind caught at him. His eyes looked about momentarily at the arching walls which spread out from the pillars to engulf him, as if they thought themselves master of all who stood before them. But he was now ruled by none, and intended that state to remain forever.
"What foolish creature goes there?" A hunched figure hissed, as one of the gate guards stomped onto its place at the top of one of the pillars, the horns atop them spreading out seemingly from its chest.
The Dumahim had changed. They had once been fair of form, resembling their great creator to some degree, as he had come to resemble his one-time mentor, Vorador. Now they were hunched creatures that nonetheless stood as tall as the tallest of men, their flesh hardened to the texture and colour of iron that screeched and sparked when struck with steel. Red points now blazed from their sockets, at the head of elongated heads which bore fang-filled maws. Once, the Dumahim had been the masters of all weapons. Now they bore only their claws, for those could cleave flesh and cut steel, while their fists would shatter the strongest stone before bearing the slightest dent. Kain was not impressed.
He reached out with a single claw and reached out with his blood, commanding the very forces of the world to obey and bending them effortlessly to his will. Bonds of telekenetic energy entrapped the vampire, paralyzing its limbs and plucking it from the stylised parapet, then drawing it inexorably and swiftly through the driving hail until its throat was held in Kain's claw, its maw mere inches from his face. Its pinprick eyes widened to fill its sockets with horror. "Your lord and master, child," Kain intoned. The vampire began to babble, its fangs clinking on each other as the words were caught, while its claws gestured frantically. Kain opened his claw, and the vampire was thrust away from him by a blast of such strength that when its back struck the stone doors, it seemed that they moved an inch. "And I have come to speak with my lieutenant," Kain went on in a casual tone that cut through the wind and hail with ease to reach the ears of those who had now gathered around the watchtowers.
An instant passed, perhaps a heartbeat, and then words which had not been spoken for an outsider in nearly a century rang out with haunting clarity. "Open the gate!"
Kain began to walk forward, wrenching the Dumahim to its feet as he approached its fallen form and depositing it at his side as the gates began to open before him, the process speeding up as those manning the mechanism realised they were going to impede their lord if they weren't quick about it. "You shall be my guide," Kain said with an ironic chuckle as he effortlessly outpaced the vampire, who staggered drunkenly after him, reaching to hold its back with one clawed hand and rubbing its head with the other.
"Y... yes, my lord!" The Dumahim hissed out with some difficulty. "My name is Yacar... I think."
The gate opened out onto a high-walled courtyard with arched alcoves, the roof deliberately left open to the elements, a flat statement that those within were not afraid of what Nosgoth might hold for them be it day or night. At the far end of the courtyard, a pair of oaken doors each twice Kain's size offered passage further into the structure. The ground before these doors was cut into square blocks, with interlocking circles engraved upon them and the diamond-shaped spaces thus created filled by crossed swords. From the very top of the walls which occupied Kain's flanks, the other three vampires that Dumah had placed in charge of the gate stared in open-mawed wonder at their lord and master, having not stood in his presence for their entire existence. Kain had not visited Dumah since the immediate aftermath of Raziel's demise, over three hundred years ago. Then, these walls had thronged with archers that stood to attention, ready at all times to strike down the enemies of the empire who might dare to deface the walls of Dumah's home with their presence, for this courtyard was designed with that intention in mind.
"I will open the doors for you," Yacar said, scurrying forward, hunching down onto hands and feet to bound like an enormous ape ahead of Kain, but as he reached for them Kain gestured with one claw and they were thrown open with such force as to crack them when they struck the walls within, and Kain walked past the stunned vampire without comment.
The next area was identical, but for the raised portcullis which stood at the other end, the secondary line of defense should any foe breach the main gate. The floor here was completely covered by ice, which crackled as Kain's clawed feet drove sticking points into it with unconscious ease, the Dumahim loping beside him with a similar gait. Finally, Kain thought, this loathsome creature has shown some small amount of the divinity which is its heritage.
Kain passed beneath the portcullis without pause or remark, Yacar now striding a little ahead of him, the grave injuries inflicted by being tossed so savagely against the gates already healed. A roof appeared over his head as he entered a corridor that ended in another portcullis, while a second corridor curved off to the right and led to the rooms of the gate guards, rooms now barely used, for they were fashioned centuries ago when the Dumahim still walked like men.
"This way, my lord," Yacar said, half turning as it passed beneath the portcullis and bowing as it turned away again, its head swishing around as if catching up with its body, "master Dumah will likely be in his throne room now."
They entered a wide and open courtyard, thronged with Dumahim shouting abuse at one another in their hissing voices and laughing at the fights which broke out among their number. Kain paused but a moment to survey the scene, looking solemnly over the mass of dark skinned creatures that bore no visible relation to him. They turned in drips and drabs to gaze with wonder upon their true master, and bowed their heads to him. The fledglings went to their knees, of course, their long heads scraping the icy stone and skin sticking to it. The elders, filled to bursting with pride and arrogance, thought of Kain as less than he once was, and would no more bow to him than they would to any of their kin. Kain smiled, finding the thought of these pompous creatures skewered and motionless on the cold stone of their own home to be an amusing one indeed. Once, when they were creatures worthy of his blood, there would never have been so many gathered in this place. Kain remembered passing this way and meeting no Dumahim in the halls at all, for they were manning the posts, ever-vigilantly watching for invaders. Now, like the rightly forgotten empires of millenia past, they left their walls barren, arrogantly sure that nobody would ever dare to take their offering.
Kain strode on, outpacing Yacar in moments as he walked down a short corridor that opened out onto a bridge of blue iron, a series of stone platforms erected above, at the top of which lay the now unmanned device which would raise or lower the bridge below. A hulking Dumahim that stood over a foot taller than Kain despite its hunch loped onto the bridge from the other end, and walked past him without a second glance. How easy it would have been for Kain to draw the soul reaver and annihilate the creature at that very moment, to deliver its rightful punishment. But in truth, that was coming with the Human invaders. If they failed, as Kain thought that perhaps they might with this warning, then he would speak with that creature and remind it of its place.
They moved from the bridge to a corridor which turned into another junction point, with an area of iron gating occupying the middle ground in which there was contained a tall obelisk of dark stone, and inlaid upon it there were hundreds of runes written in the classical Nosgothian blood script, runes which read out 'the litany of Kain'. These were the various sutras and prayers that should be said in His name each day and night by the devoted, and the doctrine by which he had lived his life and forged the empire. Now it stood abandoned and gathering dust, ignored by the very creatures who had once followed it most intently.
Kain paused, and folded his arms across his chest, turning his head momentarily to see the multiple engravings of Dumah's clan symbol upon the walls, each so meticulously attended to that it seemed as if it had been hewn only this morning by the finest of stonecutters.
"Is there something the matter, my lord?" Yacar asked.
"I find it curious that this obelisk gathers dust, fledgling. Have you an explanation for this oddity?" Kain asked darkly.
Yacar shrugged, glancing at it vaguely. "The obelisk is nothing more than a part of the city, my lord. Master Dumah believes we should pay more interest to those matters which benefit the clan than those which are merely curiousities of architecture."
"And do you find nothing about this particular 'curiousity' which is worthy of observation, fledgling?" He asked, expression becoming stormy and brow furrowing deeply. Yacar began to look ill at ease. "Is there nothing here that your master believes is worthy of notice or study?"
Yacar looked at the obelisk as if seeing it for the first time. It leant forwards, then walked to the nearest stretch of gate and peered between two of the bars as if looking into darkness, then looked at Kain, its pinprick eyes a little wider, but no other noticeable change upon its face. "I see nothing, my lord," Yacar hissed, the words scraping and sibilant, yet carrying a small hint of embarassment. "Just a four sided rock with squiggles on it."
And then, Kain understood. "Can you read those 'squiggles', fledgling?"
"Read them?" Yacar exclaimed as if Kain was suggesting he fly to the sun.
"Enough! Take me to your master, immediately," Kain snapped, already having strode past the fledgling and begun his path down the long corridor that led to Dumah's throne room. Yacar ran to catch up, rising up out of all fours as he drew up to Kain's side, and together they came to the heavy iron doors which stood fifteen feet high and bore in their centre, spread across the two to be split asunder when they were opened, a man-high engraving of the clan's symbol. As Yacar moved forward to open them, Kain pre-empted it with a contemptuous gesture and a curl of his lip, and the doors were pulled forward to slam against the walls of the corridor, nearly crushing Yacar as they did.
And there in the distance, sat upon his throne with the ease of one who sat there for long hours each day, was Dumah.
Had Kain not already witnessed how the coming days would play out, he would perhaps have been shocked to see his lieutenant today, for Dumah was unrecognisable from the vampire, and indeed the man, he had once been. Where once he had stood a little above Kain's height, now he towered over him by a number of feet. Where once his skin had been white like the other lieutenants', now it was hardened into a dark blue colour and visibly dissected into recognisable 'plates', making it appear that he was melded into a suit of armour. This impression was if anything magnified by the distortions of his head, which appeared now to be some unholy helm from which two deep points of crimson light glinted from above a fanged mouth. But unlike his spawn, Dumah still stood tall and strong, a walking pillar that defied any attempt to topple it, an embodiment of the empire's strength. It suddenly occurred to Kain, now, seeing Dumah with his own eyes after so long, how utterly appropriate it was for this fate to befall him over any of the others.
A step beyond the threshold of the doors took Kain onto a carpet of the deepest crimson, into which were woven stylised drops of dark blood, the angles sharpened to make them seem almost as diamonds. Beginning on the walls at either side of the door, a band of white ran dissected the glazed stone slabs and bore long lines of writing in old blood script, reading the words 'herein sits Dumah, Lord of War' over and over again, as if a mantra to be recited. Where the lines met, the throne itself began, its lines and curves designed to resemble a suit of armour for a creature of man size. The high back seemed as if a guard to protect against beheading strokes from the rear. The raised arms of the chair, with their subtle lower alcoves where the arms of the lord could rest more comfortably, seemed the beginning of shoulder pads which then curved out in stony wedges. These framed stained glass of whites and purples refracted the light which was given out by the four braziers, which were suspended from the roof by lengths of heavy chain. Immediately behind the throne and to either side were three vertically emphasised stained glass windows, the latter pair also blazing purple and white, the former individual bearing greens of varying hues which grandly offset the blazing yellow and red disc which reminded Kain of a powerful sunset, in which was suspended the darkness of the Dumahim clan symbol.
In the room's rounded corners, to the throne's far left and right, stood two gigantic statues, which dwarfed Dumah even in his exalted state, horned monsters which each bore a stave -- the weapon which was once the signature of clan Dumah. These two statues were carved centuries ago, when two creatures that resembled these statues exactly wandered from the mountains and pillaged the then-plentiful Human cattle that Dumah had called his own and shattered any vampires sent against them; until Dumah had slain them both with his bare claws. Those had been gentler times, Kain thought. Slightly.
Kain strode towards the throne, occupying the exact center of the carpet, his steps filling each drop of blood as he passed it. Yacar loped beside him, hanging back slightly, now, as it found itself in the presence of both of its masters, and began to truly realise its own insignificance in this meeting. Dumah's helm-like head tilted forward slightly as Kain approached, then his burning eyes flared slightly, and he leant forward with a sound like rattling chainmail. "So," he said, his voice loud and echoing unnaturally from his plated throat, "the Lord of Nosgoth comes before me once again. To what, pray tell, do I owe this unexpected pleasure?" He asked, his tone bordering that of a deep and thunderous sneer.
"I thought perhaps to invade," Kain said casually, "but upon seeing the defences of your walls I realised the task would be too easy, and so instead I deemed to parley with you."
Dumah's eyes widened slightly, then narrowed. He sat back in his throne again, then frowned, and let out a long, hollow laugh, throwing his head back and baring his throat as if daring Kain to strike for it. "Oh, my lord, your sense of humour is unchanged, I see! In a way it is pleasing to discover that there is something in our empire which remains so."
"My empire, Dumah," Kain said flatly, wondering inwardly if in his youth he had ever resembled this arrogant and pompous fool.
Dumah looked upon Kain again, a thin smile prickling the edges of his plate-armour lips. "Of course, master. What else could I have meant? Leave us, Yacar, there is a private reunion to be had today," Dumah said, gesturing with an arm as thick around as the fledgling's torso and, Kain noticed, shaking loose no small amount of dust from the surface of his skin. He could not help but smile at that. In the past, he himself had risen from meditation, only to discover the revolution of a week had passed, and that his body had become nearly obscured by dirt from the air. "Do not concern yourself with the doors," Dumah said, and gestured. There was the sound of groaning iron, and then a heavy booming noise as the doors closed.
"I see your powers have grown, Dumah," Kain observed quietly.
"And I see that yours have not, Kain," Dumah replied, barely containing the contempt in his voice. "How strange it is that while your children change and grow like the turning seasons, you remain static and turgid! After all these centuries, after feeling my true power, I begin to wonder about your true motives for casting my brother into the abyss. Is it because, truly, you looked upon him and realised that you were inferior?"
Kain did not react visibly, but internally he began to seeth. To hear his impudent offspring speak in such tones was enough to make his blood boil, and his claws to twitch in readiness of clasping the Soul Reaver's hilt. But he was older, now. And wiser. "And if a mountain remained the same after twenty thousand years, through thunder and calamity, would you look also upon its state as weakness? As for yourself, do not mistake my compliment. You are not my equal."
Dumah let out a rasping laugh. "Oh, no, Kain. No, I am not your equal," he laughed, and while the words went unsaid, Kain knew what Dumah would have said. "But surely," Dumah said, his laugh stopping suddenly, abruptly, without a hint of its ever existing, "you must look upon me and be proud? Have I not ascended far above what your other mewling brats are capable of? Am I not by far the greatest embodiment of those very values you instilled into us at our rebirths?" Dumah asked, gesturing at himself in quite the most narcissistic manner, and Kain found himself imagining, with a smile, Dumah standing before a mirror and polishing himself.
"In what manner do you embody those values, Dumah? Is it in the manner of your strength, which you pair so well with your stupidity and arrogance, or is it in your wordplay?" Kain asked with a cruel half-smile, born from the sure knowledge of Dumah's approaching fate. Suddenly, he wondered if his intended plan was worth carrying out.
"You dare!" Dumah roared, and slammed his hands against the arms of his throne, once over-sized but now so small in comparison to his bulk. The impact was such that it rose him to his feet to tower over his lord, his eyes blazing with infernal fury and mouth opened in a snarl... until he saw to where Kain's right hand had drifted.
There was no other change in Kain's posture, really. He still stood with his left arm folded into his crimson shawl. But his right now firmly gripped the hilt of the Soul Reaver, the skull-embossed hilt prominently visible over his left shoulder, the empty eyes carrying a promise to any who looked upon them. Dumah saw the blade. He straightened up, then shook his arms to a sound like that of a hundred suits of armour crashing into one another as his trunk-like muscles shook, and finally he sat back down in his throne, as regal and calm as he could ever be. "I see you still favour your toys over your own power, Kain," Dumah hissed contemptuously.
"I see no need to flaunt my powers, when I have a tool that more than adequately represents them," Kain replied softly, taking his hand from the blade and crossing it across his chest once more.
"And I wonder, is that the true story of The Raising of The Six?" Dumah mused, raising one hand to rest on his chin and his massive body turning to lean against one side of the throne. "Did the great lord Kain, in looking upon the lands of Nosgoth, see his own weakness and so create fitting tools with which to supplement his meagre power?" Dumah taunted.
"Your power comes from mine, Dumah," Kain pointed out. "Any insult you deliver to me is one you deliver to yourself."
"No!" Dumah stated, pointing accusatorily. "In the beginning, certainly, but look upon me now and tell me that I am your son! Tell me this, father," Dumah said, his voice rattling in his throat unpleasantly, as if a mighty sword being drawn from its sheath, "in what way do we resemble one another? By what manner would any observer look upon us and see that we are related in any way?" Kain smiled, and a laugh rocked his shoulders slightly. "Answer me!" Dumah roared, his tone absolutely expecting an answer and eyes blazing once again.
"How else, my son, but in temperament?" Kain said, making a casual gesture with his hand.
Dumah's red eyes suddenly softened, and his expression became thunderstruck. He reared back in his throne, and thought about it for a moment. Then he smiled. And then he laughed. He laughed long and loud, his twisted voice echoing off the stone walls of the room and drowning out his master and father's soft, ironic chuckle. Kain found, having spoken the words, that it was true. More so than any other of his lieutenants, Dumah's fiery temperament and perhaps misplaced self-confidence reminded him of himself. But unlike Dumah, Kain intended to live to learn from the mistakes of his life.
Finally, the mirth left Dumah, ending as suddenly as his earlier laugh, stopping as though the one issuing the noise had been decapitated. Dumah looked upon Kain again, and settled back into his throne. "So, master. What brings you out to the Northern Wastes to speak to your little Dumah?" He asked, then chuckled softly.
"I bear a warning, child," Kain said, feeling a slighty heaviness within as he finally reached the grim intention of his visit. "A warning against your rapidly approaching demise."
"Oh?" Dumah asked, his voice more curious than surprised. "And from what quarter does this demise come from, father?"
"From a group of Humans that have struck out from their isolated citadel," Kain said. He was not surprised by Dumah's reaction.
The great leader of clan Dumah first leant forwards as if straining to hear, then his eyes widened, and then another laugh echoed out through the room. "Humans?" Dumah exclaimed, incredulous. "And what are they to do, oh father? Beat upon my feet with pebbles? Or, or are they to knock politely on my gates of stone so that they can actually get inside in the first place? Or perhaps they bring with them the ancient weapon that the accursed Sarafan once used to aid their quest to slaughter our kind? Oh, no, even better! Each of them bears a Soul Reaver!" Dumah exclaimed, pointing with a shaking finger which was as wide as Kain's hand, at the Soul Reaver, then bursting out into laughter, his whole frame shaking with it, and it seemed that an entire company of armoured men were falling into a rocky crevice, as Dumah's steely skin scraped sparks off his stone throne. Finally, his mirth subsided, and Dumah rested back in his throne. "Oh, father, how terribly cutting is your sense of humour. Tell me, honestly, why did you come here? You have visited none of us for centuries, as I understand it."
Kain fixed his lieutenant with an even stare. "I speak the truth, Dumah, and I am not inclined to waste my breath on false warnings."
Dumah chuckled. "Oh, how sad it is, father. Finally I see things as they truly are," he said, leaning forward to regard his master with an amazed expression. "The centuries, Kain, have addled your mind and rendered you witless! Go! Walk among my clan and tell me then how any of the mortal scum might harm us! We, whose skin turns the blade and snaps the lance! We, who think nothing of snow and rain, who laugh at all but the gravest of threats to our being! I, who stands undefeated in battle for four hundred years, who has grown both in stature and commensurately in power!" Dumah shouted, gesticulating broadly and proudly as he spoke of his great clan, his mighty arms sweeping high, almost reaching the yellow and red engraving of his clan symbol that occupied the centre of the stained glass window behind him. "And then," Dumah hissed, "we have the humans. Rag-tag remnants of those fools who have turned away from the empire and fled from their lords to cower in that pathetic citadel to the west, who fight with swords upon which our sharp eyes can see the rust that was scraped from them merely hours before battle, who fight with weapons they stole from my incompetent brother Melchiah. They cower in terror from Rahab's raiders, who drag their men and women into the rivers and drink them dry to spit their worthless corpses out as a warning to them, and they flee at the mere mention of my name! They will harm me?" Dumah roared, his voice swelling with indignation and his fist striking his chest as if it were a gong, and letting out a grinding slither as his claws were raked across his chest.
There was silence then, for a few moments, as servant and master, son and father, looked into each other's eyes. One looked in challenge, one in the calm certainty of sure knowledge. One felt insulted merely to hear such a ludicrous suggestion, the other felt irritatingly certain that his coming here was, in the end, a waste of his precious time.
It was Dumah who finally broke the silence. "Leave this place, Kain. Go to your mountain sanctuary if you fear the pathetic remnants of the Human's resistance, and cower there with the broken relics of the past! If they come, they will die. Or have you some other decree for their fate?"
"No," Kain replied evenly, "but should they fail, Dumah, then we shall speak again, and you may not be well pleased by the outcome of our conversation. For now, take heed. Be wary of your revels, lest they usher in your demise." So saying, Kain raised his arms and disappeared in a glow of emerald energy.
Dumah lay back in his throne, his lips curling in a sneer as he considered how weak his one-time master had become. It was almost an insult to think that he had ever served that creature, and that he still had to pay lip service to his Soul Reaver. Dumah gestured at the double doors and they were opened by the hard push of his telekenetic powers. The fledgling Yacar was revealed, now wearing an expression of the utmost embarassment. Dumah smiled. "Bring me my goblet, and blood. And make double preparations for the festival! It seems we have more to celebrate than I had originally believed."
AUTHOR'S NOTES: I took a bit of creative licence on the Dumahim, as anyone who's played SR1 will know that they DON'T run like apes and they're not quite as large as I suggest they are. I think I might also have overplayed how big Dumah is, but then the last time I fought him I remember being Raziel and having endless fun trying to scratch my name into his shins so maybe not.
A question or two for my reviewers (no prizes for correct answers, unfortunately. Well, maybe zen hugs):
1. Does Dumah come across as impressive, and are his various rants colourful and/or amusing? (I personally love the comment about the vampire hunters all bearing Soul Reavers)
2. Do you believe that the hunters you know are coming after him have a chance?
3. Do you think I characterised Kain well?
4. For that matter, do you think I characterised Dumah well? (I suppose it's hard since he gets three spoken lines of dialogue in SR1, one of which is 'ARGH', but I thought they were very well chosen lines!)
5. Is the description of the Dumah clan home nice and vivid and other words which might sound like a character from a popular roleplaying series? (sub-question: Do any of you know what I'm talking about here?)
Thanks for reading, and any additional time you take out to review.