Author's Note:
From this point on, it kind of gets a bit confusing- by the end of the story there will be at least three different versions of each character (eg. Time of the Ancients Morty, Sarafan period Morty and Kain's era Morty). For those who have finished all five games, it shouldn't be too bad. Anyway most chapters are really warped plays on Nosgothian 'history' related situations, whilst others are guess work/ really out there. THX for the great reviews. As per usual- if you have a character request, do tell ;) For Vorador and the Sarafan Lord, I need to replay a few game segments, don't worry more material soon...There are a few brief Vorry moments in this chap.
,NCA
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Chapter Four: Death is Only the Beginning
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Aerial despised the bitter irony associated with her former position. The young Kains visits were constantly heralded with a reminder that her physique was missing a fine pair of stilts. It greatly amused this fledgling that the Balance Guardian herself, was incapable of supporting her own weight. Despite the ghosts protests, that death had released her from such frivolous appendages, the vampire continued to laugh. Nupraptor, her love, once told her that even if her body was tainted through mutilation or misdeed, his desire would never faulter. This of course was a lie, Aerials death failed to drive Nupraptor insane, it was her visage as a legless spirit. You see, the ever loyal Nuprator, had always been a leg man.
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Back in the day, Raziel was regarded as quite the diva. Amongst Kains children, the raven haired child sported a radiant beauty and was not afraid to show it. The Razielims possessed their masters keen fashion sense and love of all things shinney. This grated on the nerves of many of the other clans warriors and their lord sensed this. The Rahabims were growing restless and showing an utter dismay towards their cousins. For they were fashioned with a unique and cruel burden. Unlike the other clans the Razielims had three times the number of exquisite outfits and the laundry load was frustrating at best.
As a warrior class, Kain feared the example his first born was portraying, as this implied to the remaining humans that his empire was 'girly'. This displeased the mighty Kain, who considered himself quite the buxom masculine sort. The embarrassment of Raziels raiding parties, stealing this years fashions from the human cattle and leaving naked villagers running throughout the countryside, burned. Sadly Raziel, a victim of clothing trends, was completely unaware that his reign contained non-butch elements.
Another concern lay in those ridiculous outfits, once Raziel graced the sanctuary sporting a pink pimp hat regurgitating a large peacock feather, something called bling-bling resembling a golden necklace holding a gigantic R, brown ugg boots with leather pants and god forbid a gigantic furry coat with an undershirt. Suspiciously, these garments resembled those Vorador used to keep tucked away in his mansions many closets. At this moment, Kain swore if his son ever entered the thrownroom wearing anything so mind numbingly stupid, well, the consequences would be harsh. The jealous in fighting had to be stopped and in famous Nosgothian tradition the main anti heroes were to embrace a 75 percent, nude policy. That was that and a momentary happiness fell throughout his children for the next few days. Until Raziel called a meeting amongst the clans for a final time.
Kain sat restlessly at the base of the pillar representing balance, locked in an eternal struggle. The exists were well guarded and the chamber had barely any ventilation. The rather persistent aroma that wafted off the lieutenants was starting to take its toll on the old vampires smell receptors. If Raziel failed to arrive in hast, heads would roll faster than Moebius's loyalty. Finally the glorious show off entered the chamber in a modest fashion that mocked Raziels usual masquerade. Slowly the vampire approached the centre of the circle, kneeling down, revealing a finely tailored pair of wings.
Despair gradually crept over Kains features revealing a strong combination of disgust and annoyance. That little bastard, the entire empire was surely going to collapse into a state of civil war over this inconsiderate action. Most likely all the Razielisms would be copying this latest fashion trend, the washing alone would tipple once more. The Rahabims might rebel, throwing down their rubber gloves and embracing a state of anarchy. This would never occur under Kains rule, there was only one sensible response to this insubordination. His wayward child was to suffer the fate of traitors, shirt wearers and weaklings, by embracing the soothing waters of the Abyss.
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The journey had been taxing on the archaic and infamously lazy Vorador. Despite this his destination was near, the main entrance to Audrons retreat remained blocked off by a gigantic boulder. So Vorador in his infinite wisdom used a back door that the Sarafan were strangely unaware of. This was largely Maleks fault, who was required to patrol that particular area. However the conflict gaurdian came up with a convenient excuse which failed to impress Mortanius later down the line. Honestly, that 'pleasures of the flesh' crack was a totally inappropriate comment. Malek merely visited Voradors mansion to find the decadent old fool not to heroically rescue the dozens of prostitutes round back that the fiend was planning to converte.
Whilst Malek was away from his post, Turel inherited said duties, however also being a legs man, this individual tended to skip down to a certain house of ill repute in Uschteheim. Janos Audron heavily relied on the increasing incompetence within the Sarafan ranks and installed the door out of a growing belief in mankinds inherent kindness. Vorador had on many an occasion told his sire that the door was taking this whole fatalistic thing too far. Yet Janos believed the neighborhood cats would find it easier to accept his handouts on the ground as opposed to the main entrance designed to infuriate Raziel.
In the present, thankfully the majority of the retreat was still in tact, whilst a convenient section of the balcony's roof had fallen down in the main library. Vorador using his great deductive skills, concluded that the universe was out to twist his fate and majorly destroy his moral. Therefore the hardest location to enter, most likely contained his creators corpse. Luckily this was true, as a large three fingered blue hand sticking out from under a pile of boulders revealed. Vorador sighed, the old man always seemed to enjoy giving his son a challenge, sadly this was ridiculous.
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500 years later:
When the vampire woke, he couldn't help but wonder what insane philosophy had possessed his former apprentices decision, to place these candles in the traditional fire hazard position around his body. For Raziel his concern lay with Audrons amazing ability to remove the blood from his claws, face, cheast and robes in the full five seconds the wraith glanced away. Raziel stared at the ancient for a moment then launched into a series of explanations.
Raziel: Your teachings are devoid of my true nature and by the way Voradors dead!
Janos Audron: Raziel, my child, there is no time for explanations.
Raziel: But, I haven't asked for any!
With this sentiment expressed, Janos grabbed Raziel by his loin cloth and dragged the poor dumbfounded creature quickly to the nearest exist. Janos's lack of compassion for the last of his bloodline, lay in a growing resentment over the positioning of his tomb. The past few centuries in the spectral realm revealed more than he cared to admit. From Necromancers casually passing by to two Sluagh playing hackey sack with what appeared to be a jawbone, these things were tolerable. However spending five hundred years trapped within a chamber, whilst his heart pranced around the globe did not sit well. For one thing the chamber was quite distantly placed away from the mansion. Vorador was clearly executing the time honored practice (there are many) of distinct emancipation from the parent. Simply by allowing the old man a place round back, Janos likened this to burying a pet in the backyard. Voradors sire believed that a place in doors would of been more fitting, at least his spectral self would of felt more involved with each eras affairs. Sadly a corpse lying amongst the houses vast stunning artifacts was not exactly an awe inspiring conversation piece. Janos resented this, after all weren't they all corpse's?
Having rushed the pair to the vampire citadel, Janos quickly threw Raziel out of the main chamber into the hallway. Raziel promptly landed face first into pile of rubble. Behind him a large door closed concealing the room he had previously inhabited.
Raziel: (Tapping on the newly formed barrier) Janos, wait, I have questions!
Janos: (Pretending to be wise and dignified staring out towards the pillars in the mist). Go my child, you shall find the answers you seek in an underground chamber, somewhere.
With a lengthy silence separating the pair, Raziel began to wonder if his existence merely echoed a series of cruel misdirections. Were intriguing personalities forever bent on moving his person forcefully into unkind positions and places? First Moebius in the past, who hinted his machinations in a subtle way and now Janos Audron. The disenchanted creature composed himself, brushed away a few specs of dirt, then began his quest to find whatever it was, happened to be in that very nameless direction.
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