Rahab stepped heavily through the passageway into his personal citadel. The blue-skinned vampire passing his sons and daughters as he walked with purpose. Most of them bowed either in full, or at least briefly in his passing. The clear intent he carried made them all show respect, lest he be angry and feel the need to spare his frustration with them. Fortunately, this was not the case, and he was, rather, looking for one of his best champions to grace his lands. He knew where he would be found. This citadel was wrought with waterways, both necessary and frivolous. Stretches of water half flooding certain pathways made it such that a Rahabim could step through as if it were air, but any other vampire would burn and shed it's earthly body.
He traversed his home and halls in search of his champion "Zuriel". One of his first-born and closest sons, Zuriel was trusted by his master, both with personal knowledge, and in skill. Rahab had shown Zuriel the vampiric ropes, so to speak, when a younger Zuriel was but a fledgling, and Rahab's clan was just on the rise. The stone and marble structure directed water every way possible, and blue banners hung with the mark of Rahab at most, if not every major checkpoint. If Zuriel was not in his chambers, he would be nearby. The vampiric lord of water passed the door which entered into his champion's lair, but no one was within. He did not stop, but kept on his search. Turning around, he found a figure in the slightly hidden room behind Zuriel's own chamber room. A darkened area, devoid of light, even more than the rest of the citadel, housing a deep and circular pit of water, a short marble stairset leading into the depths. From behind he could tell that the semi-submerged figure was naked and washing itself, though it was most likely nearing the end of it's cycle. Rahabim rarely needed to wash, unless a heated battle had provided much bloodshed, or filth.
"Zuriel, you are within, correct?" Rahab called into the darkness without proceeding inside. The figure stopped and turned it's head without turning around.
"Yes, father. It is I." He replied.
"Finish you cleansing, and come here." Rahab instructed. The figure did not answer, but turned and stepped out of the water, the long black hair plastered to it's back, water dripping from it's drenched skin. Clawed hands reached behind and wrung out the hair, which it tied into a tail using a strip of blue cloth. Bending forward it retrieved it's black leather pants, which were near identical to the ones worn by Rahab and his brethren. After dressing his lower half, he strapped the foot straps on, and tightened the wrist grips common of Nosgothic vampires. No longer exposed, and out of the bathing pit, Zuriel emerged from the room. In the better lighting of the hall, one could see that he too had blue skin, though not as pronounced as Rahab's, and he too held the gill like slits on the sides of his neck. The last remaining water dripped down his bare chest and back, the still wet hair dripped as well, causing a tiny puddle behind him. He looked to his master with orange-gold eyes, waiting to hear why he had been summoned. Zuriel was not unnaturally attractive, but his features were above even some of the Melchahim and Razielim vampires, who prided themselves on their appearance.
"Zuriel. You are my best champion. You serve well, are loyal, and worthy of my trust." He spoke. Zuriel's expression did not change, he listened quietly. "Our Lord Kain has given me the task of finding an agent to send on a dangerous mission."
"What would you have me do?" He asked Rahab in response, twisting his hair again, so that it was no longer dripping, but still damp.
"You are to go west, and find a solitary wharf. There will be a spy waiting for you from the clan of Melchiah. He or she will assist you in entering a mighty Sarafan stronghold. You have been chosen, and because my clan alone can perform this feat. Their fortress sits within an empty lake, entering from the front will not be possible... BUT there is another way."
"The water." Zuriel spoke.
"Yes, my son. The lake alone will grant us entry where the Sarafan are not expecting it. You are to slip through the lake undetected, and to enter through one of the underwater gates. These giant pipes and waterworks are the heart of their resources and the ONLY way they can get water in and out en masse."
"So, Father... what is my goal?" He inquired with a low tone. Rahab smiled. "Our Lord wishes you to slay the Warlord Jericho, and his would be apprentice Ignatius. The apprentice is a mighty sorcerer, but physically inept. They seek to make him a War Sorcerer. See to it, that Ingnatius never reaches his teacher, and make certain that his teacher Jericho will never teach anything again."
Zuriel bowed in respect. "Yes, sire." He replied. "I will silence the egotistical fools, and return to you with their hearts." His dark voice let slide out, almost melodically. His clever smile widened, as Rahab grinned and nodded in approval. "Go my Son." He spoke to Zuriel finally, turning and heading back down the path he had come. His smirk dropped, though a sliver of his amusement remained behind. Entering back into his room, he stepped beside a tall wooden stand, holding a form fitting, thin leather chest piece, a deep blueish-green gem set in the center, thin gold lines surrounded where the gem was set, as well as a line running from the bottom of the chest-plate to the neckline, where the gold ran from shoulder to shoulder and around the neck. Zuriel lifted it off of the stand and slid it over his head, before pulling his long hair out from under it. He began buckling a few belts attached to the mid section, on this thin chest piece. He didn't typically enjoy wearing it, as it added weight and slowed him marginally, but in his mind, truthful or not, even a small fraction could make the difference.