Nosgothian Tales Chapter 7: The Price Associated With Being Turel, a legacy of kain fanfic

Chapter Seven: The Price Associated With Being Turel

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It was time, Turel could feel the sneering machinations of fate taking heed. Sadly such a moment sorely lasted long enough. Their breath lingered down the back of that proud warriors neck and those eyes coldly betrayed its true intentions.

Raziel thrust himself through the steel gates after discarding the two dead Sarafans note. Shocked, the wraith realized truly how cruelly destiny regarded his insignificant path. For he had been too late, a small crowd lingered staring at the limp form of the once so righteous Turel. A few were in shock, whilst the rest cackled at the minuscule droplets of blood rinsing down their manicured nails. Raziel felt a clear combination of disgust and awe at what these luminous vixens orchestrated seconds before his arrival.

Poor Turel, for every campaign the Sarafan embarked upon, there was a parallel number of irked femme fatale. Zephon often joked, that the green tart probably kept a woman per village they passed. Sadly this estimate was not far off. For indeed there were women and each hamlet sported quite a few more than a mere one. Eventually through a grape vine of gossip and close relations, these lovers realized the extent of connections Turel coolly held. Soon a singular platoon, carrying women of all shapes and sizes, wracked with incredible rage, decided that their humiliation deserved a price. They embarked towards the Sarafan Stronghold, intent on displaying the true wrath of a woman scorned.

Too bad for Turel, the only person capable of stopping them was out buying a new pair of socks. The lifeless vessels of Dumah and Rahab were slightly less threatening than the Necromancer, however death was something any loyal Sarafan should of been able to overcome. Then again those two were never that dedicated to the 'cause'.

Raziel still aghast, decided to choose his words carefully, in case the mob decided to direct their wrath towards his general direction.

Raziel: Cruel harpies, do you not know the extent of suffering this poor individual, I, have been through? Each, deserve the full force of the underworld resting upon your lifeless carcasses, as the fires of hell, embrace your very souls. Trudging through the glim metaphors of a demented creatures love hate relationship involving a coin, a senile geriatrics idiotic facade and the bitter choice to commit a spiritual suicide. The one joy of placing this bastard into the ground has escaped my grasp thanks to your selfish tantrums! Oh bitter fate, why me?

As the walking figure of tattered blue flesh barely hugging a framework of bone, continued to prattle on, a few women decided savoring their short decomposing visage amongst all this whine, was simply not worth it. With a quaint nod of acknowledgment from the head scorned female, the rest quickly departed the blood splattered hall.

Raziel: Woe is me...wait but a second wenches, this conversation is yet to diminish!

With an annoyed sigh, Raziel looked down at Turels corpse, inspecting the damage. There was a slight spasm as the body twitched for a moment. Elated, the wraith rushed forward, ready to pounce.

Raziel: Ha! You vile fiend, thought you could escape your fate, like the others?

The body failed to respond a second time and with this, Raziel thought it best to check for a pulse. After fumbling under the humans turtle neck attached to what appeared to be an elaborate muscle suit, it was revealed the knight seemed clearly dead. Raziel responded to the situation in the only way he knew how, beginning a ridged course of distinct cursing and elaborate whined up metaphors.

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The highly evolved Kain was distinctly irritated by the possessed Mortanius's desire to remove the single most important item in his entourage. Not the Soul Reaver, but a small trinket that was said to turn three ways, after being tossed against the full force of gravity. The warlord had tracked the Necromancer to strange red dimension filled with unspeakable horrors.

Hylden 1 aka Bob: Is this not the place, you have long feared, vampire?

For Kain, beneath what seemed to be Avernus (as there was a large archaic sign with the Nosgothian symbol for the cathedral nearby), lay an intricate network of catacombs. They held a dimension carrying an unspeakable hub, with an evil beyond all imagination.

Kain: (uttering a throaty wheeze) No. It can not be...

For it was, the very axis of evil, Morty's bingo group. A decrepit gathering of like minded souls, that entertained the Guardian as he waited for the youthful Kain to reach the pillars. The mob consisted mainly of elderly overbearing Hylden and strange demonic entities constantly swapping war stories.

Suddenly, behind the vampire came a hearty and cheerful cry. The kind reserved for a long lost friend or even family members. Kain turned around a little too quickly, almost slicing the chirpy attacker into a well defined half.

The creature: Oh Kain, it has been so long. How fairs your empire?

With a skeptical look, the former Lord of Nosgoth approached this being, collecting his senses.

Kain: Janos, what manner of bitter trickery is this?

Janos Audron: None my friend, when the Sarafan Lord and I, had our little scuffle, I fell into the demon dimension...

Kain recollected his thoughts of that embarrassing moment when the pair did battle. In many ways their squabble resembled a pair of surly tarts enacting a shamefully inept cat fight. The anti-hero really expected more from the founder of the modern day vampire race, for he had always known the Sarafan Lord to be a sissy. Maybe Janos's heart wasn't in the right place?

Janos Audron:...and then, well, I spent the last few millenia here. The chamber is quite strange every few centuries the captive entities inside are beamed back in time. This was to ensure the Hylden never escaped. However, then a few cycles down the line, the captives are forced forwards and vice versa. So I've been stuck in a never ending cycle. According to the Hylden it'll last another century and we'll be free, thanks to Raziel, so my former self can be repossessed. Ah, how is the boy? Blah, blah, blah...

By then Kain had clearly lost interest, realizing the drivel of time had surely taken its toll on the Ancients mind. With an indigent shudder, he decided to explore the chamber, leaving the big blue fairy to chat up a statue in the far east corner.

Escaping the demon dimension and entering the material realm had not been hard for Kain. The Nosgothian desire to place important things behind large shiny and elaborately protected puzzles rang true. After lighting a few things on fire, pulling some switches and jumping over strange creatures screaming vampiri, he had arrived.

Hiding behind an over sized boulder, Kain leered at the spectacle before him. Several of Azimuths friars were worshiping that loathsome entity known as Hash'ak'gik or Hashy to its friends. Though offended by the mention of the damned creatures name, his quarry was near and presenting the 'deity' a sacrificial lamb. The gift was in the form of a human child, clearly not exactly thrilled with her predicament. After a few more chants, a slice of the child's throat, some splattering of blood and the corpse falling into the pit, the ceremony was over. Casually the friars disembarked from the cavern, leaving the pair alone.

Mortanius, entered into a small room and slumped down upon an over the top skeletal chair. Kain followed turning into mist form, to create an elaborate entrance. As the Scion of Balance floated dramatically around the corner into the Guardians chamber, his heart fell.

Mortanius: (looking absent mindedly into Kain's direction) Honestly, one would believe the great Kain, might think these things through.

Kain returned to a more solid, handsomer version of himself.

Kain: No tricks, Necromancer, give me, the coin!

Hash/Mortanius: This one grows weak and slightly annoyed- urk.

Kain: Suppress that infernal demon, hand over the damned farthing.

Mortanius: (Ahhh-urk/eep cough cough, wheeze) It's no longer in my capable hands, vampire.

Kain: Oh this is getting tedious, surely I need not remind you, that in this time line, Raziel shall be along soon. My former self requires your throat and I have more important matters to attend to, such as redeeming Nosgoth.

The important matters, Kain referred to lay near the pillars on his human selfs birth 30 years ago. Not only was this a pristine moment to celebrate, but a perfect opportunity to drone on endlessly towards an estranged 'relative'. The downside lay in his lack of props, this was the only time traveling coin on hand, all the others disappeared. As though a certain Time Streamer liked to rob his chronoplast chamber travelers through unknown sorcery.

Mortanius: (Now quite clearly writhing in agony) That insufferable Ancient, Janos won it in a bingo match...satisfied.

Kain: Hopefully you speak true, otherwise I'll simply extract it from your corpses possessions once my younger self is finished.

With that, Kain quickly sky dived into the pit, just as Raziel popped his head up, ready to interrogate the Necromancer. Unfortunately for the vampire lord, he fell upon his second eldest sons, rigor mortis stricken corpse. On the up side, he had finally found Turel and he was not scouring the land for 'booty' as Zephon inferred.

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