StarCraft® II

Dark and Light

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Sigh...

I miss Darkest Heart... kinda like PKA on a smaller scale and with monsters and demons... good times.

This is excellent. Can't wait to see where this goes next.
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Things moved swiftly. Perhaps a little too swiftly. Ravener’s about face had been surprisingly swift, and this indicated something was wrong with the Plan. The Master was very big on Plans, and Revenge knew what would happen to him if he screwed up this particular Plan. Of course, if he pulled it off he would be commended. Maybe he would get to feed off of some Prisoner’s soul. It had been some time since he took in sustenance that solid.

He had already done quite well. The Enemy had made a serious mistake here. If everything went according to Plan, Ravener would return to the fold and a Glutton would be created. Double whammy! Wouldn’t that shake the Enemy’s feeble heart!

It was quite odd, when Revenge thought about it. Ordinarily the Enemy was a believer in “absolute good,” meaning that you couldn’t do something evil to one person to prevent something evil from happening to someone else. So what had caused this aberration with Ravener?

Probably this confirmed what the Master had said all along: once you went just so far, the Enemy’s so called “mercy” no longer applied to you. He claimed to be all-forgiving, all-loving, but He was a fraud, of course. Revenge had always had a nagging suspicion, perhaps his conscience, telling him that this wasn’t true, but Ravener’s rejection seemed to prove it. Intriguing.

Hm, speaking of Ravener. Revenge crept out of a shadow to take a quick glance at his charge. Ravener was sleeping peacefully, or somewhat peacefully at any rate. Revenge swallowed. He’d been slacking again. Well, it was always fun to torment an old superior.

Who’s the big one now, little fool! ME! ME!

Revenge leapt onto the eater’s throat, clawing at the shining wound, the spark of horribly holy light trapped within reacting to him and igniting into a flame. Cackling with wicked delight, he slunk back into the shadows as Ravener was jolted rudely into wakefulness. He watched with bulging eyes, shaking with laughter and rolling on the ground, practically paralyzed by his evil glee.

Ravener had been dreaming of ‘home.’ In particular, he’d been dreaming of the few happy days before his final banishment, when the Starborns’ powerful magic had turned him into a human. He had contained the hunger within him, and had been allowed to live among humans, as one of them.

In his dream, he was walking along a cobblestone path. He saw someone up ahead. A female human. She looked familiar…

Ravener found himself running, trying to catch up to her. As he approached, he recognized her. It was a woman who had lived in his village. But hadn’t she died, along with all the others? When his brother revolted, he had destroyed most of the village and the rest… well, he preferred not to remember the rest. But this woman… her name leapt into his mind. Eloise. He had believed he loved her. When she died, he blotted out her memory, but now…

He grabbed her shoulder. “You’re alive?” He couldn’t believe his eyes.

She whirled on him, and he froze in horror. Her glowing blue eyes stabbed into his brain painfully, and a cruel smile spread across her face. “How could she be? You destroyed her.”

He backed away, nearly falling. “You are not here!” He willed the image to disappear, and found himself somewhere else. He was in a structure, a crude wooden hut. There was a fire crackling in the corner of the single room building, and several people were crowded into the small building, talking and laughing with one another. He sat and observed, a strange feeling coming into his heart. What was this? Happiness? It was difficult to tell; he had not felt anything like this in so long...

He began to see faces he didn’t recognize amongst the people in the room, which seemed larger and more heavily populated now. Who were these people? They fit right in; they seemed to be farmers. But he didn’t know them… did he?

Suddenly, the dream began to take a sour turn yet again. He felt an all too familiar pain begin to grow in his throat. He swallowed painfully, glancing around the room to see if anyone had noticed his discomfort. He realized that the people had a new topic of conversation.

“I heard that the monster attacked a farm near Westershire, and nobody survived.”

“Such a terrible creature. It ought to be cut to pieces!”

“Send him straight back to the pits of Hell!”

“Really, who can expect anyone to show mercy to something like that? What a monstrosity! Extermination is the best it can hope for.”

“Kill it!”

With a shock of terror, he realized that they were speaking about someone he knew. One of his… friends, perhaps? He knew he knew someone who had done something like that. But did he have any friends? He thought. He used to have friends. What happened to them?

The pain in his throat grew steadily worse, and was almost unbearable now. He clutched at it, feeling flame and lightning spreading through his neck and into the rest of his body. The conversation grew louder and louder, almost deafening, adding to his agony. He looked around. Didn’t these people see how much pain he was in?

As if a blindfold had been torn from his eyes, he suddenly recognized all these people. They… they were dead! Something had killed them! Something terrible had happened to them! But what?

Suddenly a terrible noise drowned out everything else. The conversation stopped and the people looked at each other in horror. With a crash, the wall burst open in a spray of wood and dust, and a horrible monster rushed through, seizing the people and devouring them. Its skin was an unnatural sort of dark, charred almost. Its teeth were not sharp, but were very long, and while its body seemed almost humand it mouth was large, incredibly large. It fixed its burning eyes on him, and stepped forward…

Ravener awoke with a strangled cry, barely audible as the pain in his throat made it nearly impossible to breath. He lay there for some time, feeling the pain flowing through his body as his own throat glowed with that foul light.

Curse them. They have done this to you! You must seek Revenge.

Yes. I must…

He arose, the flames in his eyes hot enough to burn worlds.

None can stand before you. You are Frytharm, terror of all! The Insatiable Hunger!

Yes…

Abruptly he sank to his knees. What was the point? Alone, he was helpless, and alone he was, alone with his memories of the past and of long-dead friends.

He wept.
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"It's a mental discipline?"

Amon rolled his eyes. "Of course it is a mental discipline. You think Hellhounds would be called by a mortal dog whistle? Of course not. This means you need to prepare your mind to give orders in a way that doesn't come across as weak."

Nathanial nodded. "What happens if the mental commands come across as weak?"

Amon sighed. "They eat you."

"WHAT?" Nathanial screamed as he stood. The chair he had been sitting in fell backward with a crash and slid another few feet across the floor.

Amon watched the outburst without moving. "These are Hellhounds boy! They don't pee on the furniture to show they don't respect the rules, they EAT things. And if they think you are the weakest link, they will eat you!"

Nathanial began to pace. "So I risk death to acquire the power of the hellhounds... I suppose that it isn't all that surprising. These things are never done without risk. Let's start."

Amon smiled and turned a tome to face Nathanial before sliding it across the table. "Start here."
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Amon stood well away from Nathanial as the boy read. He looked down at his wrinkled hand and began to loose himself in thought.

He had not been young when he had turned. He could not remember how old he had been exactly... but he knew he had still been human on his 83rd birthday, and perhaps a few more years after that. He had been the oldest looking vampire in the coven, though not the oldest in terms of existence. That said, he still had a few hundred years on Nathanial, though the boy was no newborn himself.

Like some vampires chose to do, Amon had decided to learn all he could from books and other reference material. It had given him much knowledge about both the Dark and Light aspects of creation. What was best left alone and what could be used safely.

Hellhounds were definitely closer to the 'best left alone' side of the balance. Yet... Nathanial was slightly different then when he had left. Darker.

Amon shook his head to clear his head of such ridiclous thoughts. That could not be the case. Yet... How had he come by Hellhounds?

The Fade.

That was right. He had said he was working for a Fade. The Fade had summoned the Hellhounds and then died... Leaving Nathanial the Hellhounds and no way to control them. But what had killed the Fade? "Nathanial?"

Nathanial looked up from the tome. "Yes Amon?"

"What killed the Fade?"

Nathanial shrugged. "I don't know, and I don't especially care. I have the hounds and the blade. I should be able to kill the Archangel now."

Amon lifted an eyebrow. "What blade?"

Nathanial thought for a moment. "It's given me more resistance to silver and wood than any vampire I know. Several hunters have met there doom at my hands because their weapons didn't work well enough.The fade called it the Black Blade."

Amon sat down heavily. "Child... You may just have a chance to kill the Archangel... Though I urge you to discard the blade immediately and forget it entirely! It shall be the end of you!"
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wait, we're back!? yay.
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Nope (despite how much I'd like to start it back up again). This is just Zanon and KO finishing up their char's stories.
Edited by Warhawk on 3/3/2013 3:23 PM PST
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Well...I suppose I can dig up everything...But, I need at least three people to agree to come back.
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Hell yes. (I'd have to drop something else though, and we should probably just restart, rather than try and pick up where we left off, and a direct recreation would be a bad idea as well.)
Edited by Warhawk on 3/3/2013 3:27 PM PST
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Hope we can come back! My char is still in my mind waiting to come out XD
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I know all this. But I'm not changing the formula I had. Proven fact it works, the story line just needed some work. Which I've done in preparation for summertime.
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Makes sense, we're probably better off waiting for summer anyway.

Heh, I was thinking of using a much younger Seraphim...
Edited by Warhawk on 3/3/2013 3:33 PM PST
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*begins thinking about modifying character to not seem so predictable*

*suddenly thinks of long-used but good plot twist*
Edited by Lumamaster on 3/3/2013 3:33 PM PST
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Makes sense, we're probably better of wait for summer anyway.


Nah, now's a good time. Nice and slow, so people won't miss it.
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Well, its on your call Zarkun.
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um... throw up a PRP shortly and start about a week after?
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now we wait for said PRP
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I'll throw up the PRP and determine the rest from there.
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This is a reminder to both myself and KnarledOne that this still exists.
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O_O

RAVENER! I'M SORRY LAD!

-----------------------------------------

Ravener was faintly amused, and simultaneously very angry. As he ate a brace of cows he brooded.

"I've survived an Angel's blade, fool."

"That's what they all say."

The man drew his sword... pure silver. Ravener eyed it warily. It wouldn't kill him... but it would probably hurt pretty badly if he was cut with it. In his other hand the man had a long wooden stake, the traditional weapon of slayers.

There was a reason it was traditional... it worked. Against vampires at least. Ravener wasn't so sure it would work against him.

"Perhaps. I have not encountered many of them. I have eaten a few, though, they were quite satisfying. Unfortunately I have difficulty finding them."

The man seemed confused, but unconvinced. He advanced, raising his sword slightly.

Ravener began to see some value in this man. He was a vampire hunter, right? He knew how to find them...

"I will make you a deal," Ravener said, smiling (a sight more frightening than most snarls). "Help me find food, and I will let you live. I do enjoy cursed flesh. Humans and livestock have begun to get boring."

The man was definitely confused now. He halted. "What?"

"I am not from this world. I was banished here. Of course, I'm content to merely sate my hunger on the dark creatures for now. Help me and I'll rid you of them. If you won't, I'll destroy this world."

"NOt if I destroy you first." He lunged, slashing Ravener in the arm and stabbing him in the stomach with the stake. The dark eater was taken by surprise, and was only able to block with his now injuered arm.

Now he was angry. He swung a fist and struck the man, dealing him a devastating blow to the chest. The man was lifted into the air by the blow, and Ravener hurled a bolt of dark energy at him.

The man's remains struck a tree several yards away, turning to ash as they did so.


Nobody would side with him, even if it was wise for them to do so. Angrily, Ravener hurled a cow's head at a passing crow, killing it. He immediately regretted wasting the food, but oh well. He still had another uneaten cow.

He thought intently, chewing on a leg. Just eating wasn't giving him strength, he was just consuming and not growing. He felt read to fight... but he needed a weapon. He couldn't just defeat an angel and an army of slayers with his claws and teeth... though either alone he might. He needed a weapon.

But where would he get a decent weapon on this planet? The people of this world were pathetically uneducated in magical crafting. He had hoped a vampire would have something useful, but they had gotten clever. THey knew something was after them and hid. Tracking had never been his specialty. He could smell power, taste it on the air, but anything more subtle was beyond him. He had hoped that the slayer could be of use to him, but the fool was too shortsighted to aid him. Well, it wasn't as if he was planning to actually keep his word.

He finished the second cow and prepared to hunt some more. Night was approaching. Eventually he would grow lucky... maybe in a year, maybe in a month... who knew, maybe tonight! He would find a tool worthy of drinking an angel's blood.
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Nathanial returned his attention to the tome. "No."

Amon took another step forward, slightly desperate. "Please Nathanial, I ask this out of concern for your welfare. I know it has given you power, but you must not keep it if you plan to face the angel!"

Nathanial sighed and looked back up. "I'll bite. Why is it so important that I do not take it into battle against the angel?"

Amon sighed in relief. At least Nathanial was listening. "Because it is fated to be cleansed by an Archangel. It is a necessary flaw in the blades design. It is kind of a balance of magic thing. More dark energy can be infused into it if you allow the light an easy way to neutralize it."

Nathanial nodded. "Ok, but what is to say that it is this Archangel that is fated to cleanse it?"

Amon opened his mouth to state how perfectly obvious it was, but paused. "Nothing I suppose, but consider this Nathanial: This Archangel is the first proper warrior of Him on High to set foot on Darkova since before this planet was settled. What is the chance that it is not him?"

Nathanial shook his head. "I'm going to use this blade Amon, but I will choose a different weapon if one presents itself."

Amon bowed his head. It was probably the best that Nathanial was willing to offer given the circumstances. He was broken from his thoughts by Nathanial's next words.

"COME HERE." The words seemed to vibrate through the air, shaking the dust of books and the floor. Nathanial turned to Amon. "I've called the hounds. We'll know if I did this right when they get here."

And they will eat us if I did it wrong.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Hellhounds stiffen at the call of their master. One raises its head to the sky and lets out a howl. Then another. Then another until they are all howling at the stars. The sound carries for miles upon miles, scaring creatures of all sorts back into their dens. Children pull their blankets over their heads, and adults lay with their eyes wide open, hoping that nothing will happen.

The sound even reaches Ravener, who knows they are best avoided.

But who has called these terrors from below? Who controls them? Then comes a thought even more terrifying... are they being controlled at all?
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