All characters belong to Crystal Dynamics and Eidos (C) 1995- 2006
Chapter Two: Faust of the Damned
Faustus lamented over his current predicament, sales were deminishing. Despite an ongoing patronage from the circle, his family business which remained from the days of the ancients to that of the human circle, was suffering. Like everyone else, the best candidate to blame was King Ottomar, however this had to be done with a grudging respect. Otherwise he might receive an egging from the village folk, just like Marcus, whom sadly to this day is incapable of growing a forrest of rich model grade hair. Faustus was very thankful for his bushy set of follicles, yet always wondered if there was more to life.
He stared out into the distant street as peasants continued about their day, he noticed that arrogant young upstart Sebastian heading towards the store. This greatly displeased Faustus who found the man slightly irritable, mostly due the fact he ran a rival fashion house in Stahlberg. On the other hand in many ways this really beats a visit from the Kings army commander, that raving lunatic Magnus. Who seemed to have an affinity for Faustus's fine china tea set with the matching blue glaze. Sadly it disappeared a few weeks ago, Faustus shrugged it off thankful that Magnus hadn't raided his house like the others, just for a lousy set of porcelain and the bloody kettle. The man would probably strip down and strap one to his back if given half a chance. Sebastian burst in rather rudely interrupting the shop owners abstract train of thought.
Sebastian: Faustus, how are things?
Faustus: Quite well, by your extravagant entrance I'm going to work under the theory you are in need of something?
Sebastian: Your powers of observation are exceptional, I've just taken a moment out of my busy schedule to pay homage to the neighbors.
Faustus: Oh great...excuse me?
Sebastian: Well, with the advancing legion of The Nemesis, setting fire to everything in my quaint little town, I decided to relocate. Remembering how we two were such buddies, I decided this would be the perfect location. Seeing as Coorhagen is now a corpse ridden hole and Avernus is in flames.
Faustus now quite plainly grinding his teeth and attempting to summon up a degree of strength for a half hearted smile, managed a mere smirk. Faustus then came to a realization, a brilliant idea.
Faustus: My dear Sebastian have you found a place yet?
Sebastian: Sadly no, everyone's all booked up at the moment.
Faustus: Well there's this nice large wood cabin down the road on Hyde Avenue right next to the barber shop. The owner is a little excentric, he might have a spare room and be mindful of his tea set collection. He hates to see them in one piece.
Sebastian: Why thank you Faustus, isn't it nice to put our rivalry aside for a moment to embrace intelligent conversation. Goodbye.
Faustus: Enjoy.
At this point Faustus was whole heartedly patting himself on the back and trying to suppress an increasing desire to laugh outwardly. That was until this creepy looking fellow with what seemed like an army of socks walked through the modest shopkeepers door.
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Truth be told the real reason Hash ak gik wanted out of the demon dimension was due to his dislike of being everyones butt monkey. The other Hylden enjoyed the demon dimension, even though they had suffered the indignity of having their asses kicked by the vampire scourge twice. Despite this fact things had really picked up since Janos Audron was accidentally cast into their realm. Minus Hash's continued whining regarding the Ancients presence, the others were growing quite fond of the middle aged winged blue creature. They spent their days retelling old war stories and inventing new ways to spruce up the dimensional rift.
Janos: I remember you, unbelievable, so your one of the few people I was ordered to ram through with a giant pike during the great war?
Simon: If anyone was to force me into this hell hole, I'm glad it was you. Oh and the personal touch, a few tears here plus the little prayer- classic.
Janos: I really do abhor violence. sniff
When one explored the heart of the matter, the Hylden were in fact greatly jealous of the Ancients last names. This was what fed their destructive rage during the great war. They felt there was a slight degree of favoritism from the wheel of fate, allowing the Ancients to create the concept of surnames first. If the Hylden followed they would of been accused of ripping off their rivals. So they decided to embrace three little names to form a grander whole. However despite this grand creation, the concept still didn't have the desired surname with the fun two big words as apposed to three little ones. On the upside for Janos, times were changing, some Hylden decided to adopt one big impressive name like the humans or undead Nosgothians. For instance Jack or even Larry were popular amongst these beings.
Whilst the single Ancient and many Hylden prattled on endlessly, Mortanius glided amongst the firery flames in the background searching for an appropriate dimensional rift.
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Vorador was glad to be home, the slaughter of so called innocents was starting to get a bit hum-drum for his liking. Sadly the red sustenance that poured from his victims veins remained a tiresome affair when it came to removing the stuff from his finely tailored robes. As he entered the main foyer of his mansion, he began to contemplate the wisdom of placing his visage on the welcome matt, allowing any Tom, Dick or Harry to trample all over his noble features. Thankfully, the decadent vampires who went by the same names were restricted to gardening duties and banned from entering his household. Only one gender was allowed in this elaborate glorified pleasure temple and they were definitely not his band of unholy husbands. As Vorador continued down this lengthy stretched version of himself he felt something underfoot. Leaning down he discovered a crumpled piece of paper containing a cryptic message.
Vorador: Hmmm, big fishes Kains fault- Raz
Unluckily for Raziel certain parts of the note had been blotched out, sadly Vorador wasn't big on housekeeping. The ceiling leaked during the latest storm, which also explained why three of his brides were lying on the ground moaning in the time honored foetal position. Vorador rolled his eyes and began to ponder what could be transpiring and the most convenient excuse was that Raziel had finally decided to take the official plunge. The vampires unholy wretched excuse for a savior finally lost what remained of his tortured little mind. Despite the fact she received absolutely no aid or recognition, one of the brides managed to capture Voradors attention by clinging to his ankle.
Bride: Master I managed to read the note before the hellfire, it said something about a big blue babes demise and it being Kain's fault.
Vorador: Janos is in trouble! Why didn't you gasp out something earlier?
With this startling revelation Vorador burst out of the main entrance and made a direct line towards Audrons retreat. By then the bride slumped back onto the ground and started to pout.
Bride (to no one in particular): You didn't ask.
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