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Chapter Three: The Curse of Superficiality
For the first time Kain realized the true reason why Nosgothian humanity despised his kind. It became clear in an instant over the course of his first few days living with his vampiric sons. Unlike Faustus, Sebastian, Marcus or even Magnus, his children were quite the gathering of putrescence. Well, except for Rahab, who proudly flaunted this fact as good old Dad allowed him a closer seat at the dinning table. Rahab smelled like a newly sprouted rose dripping with nectar, except this son also enjoyed his dripping acidic touch. Many refused to shake his soaked hands, sadly for the rest of his brethren this was a polite ritualistic curteousy at all clan functions.
Kain sighed, many a down wind village were readily abandoned a few hours before his lieutenants arrived. Which was one of the reasons Janos received such an infamous reputation in Uschteheim. Sure they would say he was a fierce brute, yet the truth, that he was a tear inducing stinker created a less entertaining feel for visitors. The town thrived on tourism in the centuries after Audrons demise, stalls were set up carting miniature hearts of darkness cards and even a few people were hired to roam the streets telling awe inspiring tales.
In the future, bathing was a sordid affair, often when the stench became unbearable a quick soak was attempted. This tactic quickly bore an insignificant fruit, singed flesh and charred skin revealed an odour far less compelling than the original. So Rahab remained the cleanest of them all and inherited the washing duties including laundry. Though Kain sported a happy disposition after the demise of his children, he discovered his gift of nasal freedom died prematurely. Now the suffering came with the forceful vengeance of a walking corpse, intent on hunting Kain down till the end of days. To this the old vampire wondered what he had done to deserve such a fate. Then another thought entered his mind, maybe dooming Nosgoth to eternal decadence was not such a good idea.
Kain being the uniquely positive sort, decided that seeing as Nosgoth had not been doomed yet in the current era he inhabited, he was in the clear for now. With nothing remotely better to engage his time with, Kain casually sat down beside the pillar of conflict. Thankfully Aerial was still alive, so no half rotted lamenting ninny would disturb his moment of solitude. His purpose for the moment remained clear, Raziel must come so the reality of his miserable existence could be revealed. Whilst waiting, Kain stood to full height and strode towards the pillar of balance. Staring at this form in its pristine uncorrupted state, Kain captured a whiff of something rotting and familiar.
Kain: I know your there, Raziel.
Mortanius: I would hope so (casually pulling his left leg out of a rather small red wormhole). Otherwise what kind of vampiric son would you be?
At this point Kain was distinctly bemused. Damn, Mortanius destroyed a perfectly dramatic moment that would of suited his ignorant vampiric offspring. The Gaurdian of Death was slightly more concerned with a shinney trinket in his fleshless hand to worry about Kains feelings.
Mortanius: behold! For I have found the very essence of your deluded metaphoric ramblings.
Clutched between his skinless fingers lay the infamous two-sided coin.
Mortanius: The precious essence of your empires fate hangs at this very point in time.
Kain: How so?
Mortanius: It's all dependent on where I place this for your younger self to find. Maybe I'll remove it altogether to cease that infernal symbolic speech.
Kain: My creator was also the one who awakened a yearning desire from within me to destroy Nosgoth?
Mortanius: Worse, I accidentally inspired your three sided coin argument! That firery walk from the demon dimension to Nosgoth you took was also the path I regularly take. One pay day I dropped a farthing whilst visiting Hash--er... never mind.
Casually, Kain felt into a pocket concealed beneath his flowing whitened hair, thankfully the original coin is safe.
Kain: Is there nothing your infernal, corrupted circle has touched?
Mortanius: It can be safely presumed that Moebius remains pure from our manhandling. Farewell Kain.
With a flash the guardian was gone leaving Kain slightly shocked and sickened. At this point he realized Mortanius must be stopped or his entire destiny would be reshapen. No longer would he be able to annoy Raziel with intelligent droning centred around his one other area of interest. Most of his existence orbited around thinking about that bloody coin. Obviously Mortanius was under a dark influence bent on destroying his livelihood. In other words he had to save his main conversation piece, for the time being Raziels quest would have to be postponed, Kain had to find his malefactor.
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A bemused Raziel was still reeling from the after effects of Moebius's little jest. The wraith hardly thought a Soul Reaver to the face was an appropriate end to their discussion. His disgust towards this moment was quickly replaced by a shocked awe as he came around the nearest bend to discover Melchiah casually brading Zephons hair. So, the time streamers snide comment regarding his brethrens hair care came to light, how unusual.
Melchiah: Tut, tut, Zephon, my these roots are awfully dry. I'm aghast to think what products have been forced upon these follicles.
Zephon: Dear brother, I only agreed to this due to Raziels insistence, not to mention your lack of hair, for crying out loud we're warrior priests not namby pamby stylists and another thing...-huh?
The two Sarafan, having noticed a certain blue visitor, quickly jumped into a combative stance, armed to the teeth. Sadly for Melchiah his arsenal included a tiny comb and what appeared to be a tube of gel. Zephon stood proudly displaying an arrogance capable of putting Kain to shame. This brave facade received a deminishment due to two small pigtails protruding from the warriors dome. Zephon slightly discouraged by Raziels attempts to hold back a strained giggle, quickly attached a helmet to his armour ensemble covering those hilarious clumps of hair. Melchiah stepped forward holding his implements menacingly, whilst accidentally squirting a blob of gel onto the slabbed pavement.
Melchiah: (putting on a very masculine tone) Come to face your doom demon?
Zephon: Prepare for your demise!
Quickly Melchiah rushed forward with Zephon in hot pursuit. A melancholy irony beheld this situation as the curse of personal Raziel enforced housekeeping took effect. Zephons right bootie made contact with the hair gel, as he lunged forward Melchiah was pinned down, through his chest with a large pointy staff. Raziel couldn't help but feel a tad sorry for how easy his two siblings were making this moment. Then again an angst was felt in relation to this display, as he realized who trained these two in such a shocking manner. The wraith was slightly annoyed with what his youngest brothers alluded to. In many a way they implied that his Sarafan reign was fleeting, superficial and lacked the nobility of a rambo style culture. Despite these grave realities, Raziel was more concerned with one of Moebius's previous comments, that the time streamer had known his Sarafan self quite well. Now this in itself was very disturbing.
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