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[Merriweather [i "Hearken to the echoes of the abyss, for the story they tell is one of rebirth and retribution. Release the Archons, entombed in the darkest reaches of Nath-Goron; only they are powerful enough to break the seals of imprisonment."]
[b "Do you remember, my brethren, the oath you swore upon your spilt blood-the soul you sold in servitude to our Lord? What has become of us now, prithee tell, do you remember our glorious war cut short by that wretch's intervention? We had pushed Man to the brink of annihilation, the burning of their cities turned night to day and clouded the skies with ash and cinder. Our Lord came up from his throne to smite the armies against us and give the final blow that would destroy their pitiful defenses."]
[b "Yet it was our loss that day, that horrible day that enchained our Lord of Death and sealed him in darkness. The years that followed saw prosperity and peace come over these lands, but I say unto thee, no more. I grow torpid under the weight of Peace, always in hiding from our defeat. These Champions of Light have grown fat and incompetent, resting on their laurels as they celebrate the years away. Now is the time to strike and sow chaos among them, watch them writhe beneath your destruction and break the sigils that has trapped our Sovereign for all these years...]
[b It has taken me too long to find you, O' Archons of Death, it is you, and only you who has the power to free our Sovereign Lord. I invoke your Oaths of Power. The world has gone on long enough without your influence, and it will remember to fear."]
[Merriweather [https://imgur.com/JEwzJah.jpg The Oracle:] A celestial woman of vast magical prowess, with the gift of clarity and foresight; it is her vision that foresees the final end of the world, and the release of your Lord of Darkness. She is an immortal entity that has phased through time itself, and serves neither Death nor Archon. [b ]]
[Merriweather [https://imgur.com/9dYQIoO.jpg The Harbinger:] A demonic entity that freed you from your dark tomb, the Herald of Death itself. Though he is both ageless and impervious to harm, he is subservient to the Archons and the Chained Lord. He is both your guide and your informant, detailing the state of the world since your entrapment, and though he is powerful he is not strong enough to break the magical seals that cage the Lord of Death. [b ]]
[Merriweather [b Archon of Slaughter:] Ruling over the domain of War and Conquest is the Archon of Slaughter, the most ruthless of the Archons who cares not for victory but death itself. Vicious in their destruction of Mankind, Slaughter is only controlled by the Lord of Death and will bend knee to no one else. When Slaughter walks the earth it does not stop killing at surrender, but will ride over the waves of humans killing thousands without abandon. [+red (Taken)]]
[Merriweather [b Archon of Plague:] Ruling over the domain of Pestilence and Disease is the Archon of Plague, perhaps the most deadliest of the Archons, Plague does not care for any soul besides their own. Every manner of contagion is passed from their domain, sweeping kingdoms right to Death's door and was the last of the Archons to swear fealty to the Sovereign. When Plague walks the earth it claims millions of innocent lives, infecting all that come across their path, both of man and beast. [+red (Taken)]]
[Merriweather [b Archon of Deceit:] Ruling over the domain of Lies and Trickery is the Archon of Deceit, Deceit is a twin with Desire and was the catalyst in enslaving the other Archons to the Lord of Darkness, becoming the first Archon to swear their allegiance. Deceit never appears as they should and will erode alliances with a single word. When Deceit walks the earth they destroy bonds and starts chaos in their wake, turning siblings against one another and relishing the destruction they cause. [+red (Taken)]]
[Merriweather [b Archon of Poverty:] Ruling over the domain of Drought and Famine is the Archon of Poverty, empowered by greed this Archon flaunts the different types of wealth they take from others. Lands and nations die underneath the heavy hand of Poverty, suffocating the life out of everyone in their grasp. When Poverty walks the earth all natural life around them withers and dies, and they can reduce kings to beggars with a touch of their hand. [+red (Taken)]]
[Merriweather [b Archon of Desire:] Ruling over the domain of Want and Lechery is the Archon of Desire, Desire is a twin with Deceit and was the second Archon to serve the Sovereign. Desire feeds ambitions, lust and covets the destruction of mortal souls through all they come across; Desire is said to be the most alluring of all the Archons, even surpassing the illusions cast by Deceit. When Desire walks the earth, souls are tested by the thousands and devours all hearts found to be impure. [+red (Taken)]]
[Merriweather [size10 *Please note that your 'Avatar', or your character, does not have to physically embody their domain. Example: Plague does not have to look like they are covered in sores and pustules, Poverty does not have to look starved and poor, etc.]]
All ES rules and regulations apply.
[b [+blue Please post all required fields in PMs and send me a [i sample post of your writing] through PMs.]]
Literacy required: [Proper spelling, grammar, punctuation, and capitalization], minimum of three paragraphs please. Give us something to work with.
Swearing, Violence, and Romance are allowed.
Text-talk, Cybering, and GMing are not allowed.
[+red [i Anyone caught stealing, duplicating, or hinting to any plot, story-line or characters without permission with probably be berated and humiliated.]]
You can have as many characters as you like active, but if you cannot keep up with posts due to multiple characters I will ask you to remove one or more to free up time.
No over-sized pictures, if you need one re-sized or need a picture found just let me know and I will fix/look for one.
I reserve the right to decline any skeleton if I feel the writer did not follow directions or could not uphold all the directions. If I decline your skeleton you can revise or improve the fields required or simply move on.
Make it creative, make it fun.
Personality: Short tempered, loyal to a fault, and idealistic, always striving to become the greatest warrior the world has ever seen.
History: Ganetrius lived as a powerful warlord in ancient times, who sold his soul for immense power to slay all in his path as he carved his empire across several kingdoms and became the Archon of Slaughter. His lust for bloodshed bound him to the Lord of Death, encouraged by both Deceit and Desire they pushed him to become greater, to give in to the urge to kill. Ganetrius became the third to bend knee to the Lord of Death, followed after by Poverty and then Plague. Now he is the embodiment of War, conquering the masses that fall before his flaming sword. Like nearly all mortal souls, he does share a small, tiny soft spot for Desire and likes to leave them 'gifts' of the most morbid, bloody and screaming kind.
Personality: Cunning, silver-tongued, persuasive.
History: Kain is the twin of Orlaralei, born mere seconds apart, in a time not recalled by most the twins existed as petty urchins among the dirt slums of the world. He was always getting into trouble, either causing it or adding to it he felt truly alive when he could instigate a conflict. If he was caught, he honed his ability to guile and dissuade any repercussions; he spent too much time getting into trouble and easily getting out of it the Lord of Death saw his potential. The offer to cause so much disdain and chaos was too good to say no to, who would? Kain did not need much persuasion, though the cost to such power meant he would lose his life-but considering the Lord came to him the night before his public beheading Kain readily agreed-he would be dead anyways. Typically he could weasel his way out of any trouble, but his luck ran out, now no one could kill the Trickster.
History: Orlaralei and Kain were practically joined to the hip from birth. They didn't exactly look alike, but their minds worked in very similar ways. When they were old enough to figure it out, they became a duo of sorts. Since they lived in the slums, they were very poor and they found that, together, they were excellent thieves. Whilst one did the distracting, in let's say a bar or a marketplace, the other would pick pocket. As they grew up, they found that Kain was a very talented liar, able to talk his way out of anything. Where as Orlaralei grew into an attractive young woman. She had always been a pretty sight for sore eyes, but this developed into something more when her body became more shapely. She used this to her advantage, flirting her way through men, and even women, whilst her twin stole. If they were attractive enough, she'd even sleep with them and then stole from them whilst they slumbered. One night, she went home with a rich lord and when that night turned to morning, she rifled through his possessions. Looking for anything of value and even money. However, she was caught sneaking out by the Lord's wife who had just returned home from a holiday. She was to be hanged, alongside her twin for her crimes, and it was together that they pledged to the Lord of Death.
History: All of Rowan's life, he had cared for the sick. As a boy, it was his frail grandmother whilst his parents worked. His family just managed to get by and so couldn't afford to look after her. As an adolescent, it was his mother. As an adult, he became a doctor. Daily life had become mundane, predictable and boring. He longed for more. That was when the twins appeared in all their glorious chaos. They offered him greatness in the form of becoming an Archon, serving under a lord. Deceit spun pretty lies, filling his head with images. Desire tapped into a part of him that he never knew and drove his motivations. Slaughter showed him just what destruction he could cause and finally, Poverty showed him all that he could gain. They all told him that to become an Archon, he'd need to complete a truly terrible, despicable act. So, he gathered a group of people, men, women, children; babies who were all healthy. Then, he took one struck with plague and locked them in a room with no food, no water, no light. Just the darkness and each other. It wasn't long until their screams and cries turned to coughing, hacking and vomiting. After two weeks, they were all dead. Unfortunately, he'd never be able to see his masterpiece as authorities found him and he was hanged for his crimes. But, what they didn't know, was that they were granting him an even greater power.
History: Aisha, named for wealth and beauty, hated the memories of her human past. She'd been naive and stupid. Born with beauty into a wealthy family of an old name that she could no longer remember, she had been a young maiden ready for love and happiness. She met a man, a Lord, that swept her away in the rosy glow of romance and gave promises of a life of happiness and spoils and love everlasting. She'd given him everything, and he'd taken it all without a second glance. Left her nothing, not even her family name. She's been made a fool and instead of living on with the embarrassment of her foolishness she tried to end her life by carving out her heart, the only thing she had left in the world to give. She had been about to plunge the dagger into her chest when two voices came to her from the dark. One spoke of the desires she held to make him pay, to make them all pay for the things they took from her. The other spoke of how if she ended her life, she'd be made a fool of once again in the afterlife. They told her of a Dark Lord that could promise her the power to make the very Earth wither and give its life to her as she walked by. She could have all that the man took from her and more for all eternity. She was given two days to consider the offer, or, she could end her life like the fool she was. When the Twins returned for her, her loving heart had been turned black and the innocence in her eyes was gone. That night she pledged herself to the Lord of Death without hesitation, and he granted her the power she sought in trade for her loyalty and obedience. A small price to pay for the splendors she would gain in this new life. The first thing she did was make the man pay for what he did to her. She took his wealth, she took his lands, she took the lives of his family as they watched, and then took his. It had given her such a rush to take back all that was hers and more, and so she continued on. Taking life from fields and causing many to starve. Riches were lost and replaced with dust, even souls were taken as payments when little lives couldn't keep their deals. She could easily steal all of this away, but it was even sweeter when they bargained away their lives to her for her collection.
Each of them, for their own reasons, believed themself the better Archon. Whether it was based on strength, cunning or how much havoc they could wreak. But, there was something in Orlaralei that knew she was the best. Except for her brother Kain, she had played a part in the others' fall to darkness. Rowan did not need much convincing, his chaotic desires had always been in the back of his mind, tempting him to sin, he had simply just needed a nudge to give in. Ganetrius had been the easiest, a mere mortal, warlord or other, could not resist her charm for their minds were too weak.
Aisha had been more difficult, turning them away the first time they approached her… But Orlaralei took the necessary steps to ensure that the woman would pledge… It had been a shame, for the man that Aisha loved truly did return the feeling. He had been smitten with her, until Desire made an appearance in his life. Like many others, he wanted her and Orla used that want to convince him to leave Aisha, take everything from her. She promised that if he completed her wishes, he could have her. That was all he wanted and happily complied. He took all of Aisha's riches without so much as a goodbye and he returned to Orlaralei in hopeful longing. However, he would find her gone for she had returned to the mortal woman who had lost her human innocence, the light from her eyes was gone and her heart was now black.
Of course, the Archon of Desire kept this little secret to herself. Poverty grew to hate her over the years for having something that she couldn't take and Orlaralei knew that the years of pent up anger and resentment would come in the form of revenge if she were to tell. Not that it mattered, their abilities did not work on eachother and they were immune to death. That didn't mean that Aisha couldn't make her life a hell. But, maybe one day, she would hint and tease Aisha about it until the woman caught on… It would make things more interesting…
At first, Orlaralei thought they could be friends of sorts. Both were beautiful, powerful and the only women amongst the Archons. It had been clear rather early that that would not happen and she really didn't understand why. It wasn't her fault that Mortals, and a particular Archon, wanted her. It was simply her ability, it was who she was, what she represented. It would be like her detesting Aisha for being able to take away the riches of the wealthiest king or be able to suck the life from the lands they walked upon. She had pointed this out, but Poverty was blinded by rage. Now, Orlaralei relished in flirting and playing around, pushing her buttons and observing just how riled up the other could become.
She had laughed at the snarled insult of 'slutty seconds'. It was most definite that she was still hated both by her and Rowan, though she didn't care too much for the Archon of Plague. He mostly kept to himself and his little experiments, whenever he did join them he stood off to the side slightly and simply snarled at you if you looked his way. If one of them finally did talk to him, conversations were quick and brief, as if the last thing that he wanted was to be in their presence. She didn't find him fun as he didn't bite back to her jabs and insults. He'd usually threaten her with some weapon, as he had done in the hallway, he'd tell her to keep her business before leaving her. With him, just as the excitement began, it ended.
Orlaralei also didn't find the man appealing. He was stick thin with sickly, pasty skin. He had crooked teeth and a wicked smile. The only thing that she found appealing was his mop of fiery red hair.
Ronan, on the other hand, stood away from the rest of them but still in sight. He had his arms crossed in a closed off stance and his thin, chapped lips showed his aggravation. He'd still be able to use the human he had locked up, but he knew the pathetic mortal would be pining after Desire. It would be calling her name and desperately trying to get back to her as if his life depended on it. No matter what Ronan infected or plagued the human with, it would want her and would prove difficult to handle. He supposed that he could kill the thing, save it from its heart ache. But then, he wouldn't be able to see the fear or the pain in his eyes as he tortured him. He glared at the Archon responsible through his mask, before his attention was caught by the Harbinger entering the room.
He stepped forward to hear the demon better, but he was obviously uncomfortable joining the group. Rowan listened carefully, brows furrowed under the mask before his grin returned at the news of the chance to free their Sovereign and to slay those who had trapped them. He could already imagine what he would do to this… Alyssa… He could imagine that the bodies of the Saints worked differently to protect them from illnesses and he was curious. He wondered what they could withstand, how they would cope with being infected. Before anyone could say any more, after Kain had claimed the head, he spoke up. "I want the body." His tone was firm here, it being clear that he would stand his ground on this and fight those who opposed him. Though, to try and persuade the others further, he added on. "I can try and find their weak spots and it'll make it easier to kill the rest.
Orlaralei had a reaction much like everybody else, she was visibly excited and after Rowan spoke he heard her say. "Fine, then I want to go in and… Ease her up a bit, just to make her drop her guard a little and to let us strike without much resistance."
[Right [pic https://i.imgur.com/aVED6hJ.png]]
Kain was awake all night, locked in a manic trance as he babbled and talked to himself, bent over trinkets and items in his room. He scratched his madness along the walls, tearing flakes off the wall with his nails; the room distorted in his eyes, the golden gaze saw things that were not really there as his insanity came back in full swing. Objects were moving on their own, disfigured trinkets clawed at him with chattering maw ready to bite. Things were flung against the opposite wall, away from Kain as he crouched on his knees; scratching, writing, digging, clawing...
The voices clamored in his head, the constant barrage of thoughts that were his but somehow not his, being told what to do from a voice in his head. Would that still make it his idea? Soon the one wall was [b filled] with psychotic ramblings, yet seemed to follow a dark pattern concerning the Oracle. The Oracle kept popping up every few seconds, clearly telling him to speak with the Oracle but Kain could not. His mind was fractured beyond repair, wounds suffered through time still ached with phantom pains. By the time the morning came Kain had sufficiently covered his [i entire] room with trance scribbles, littered with lunacy. The knock at the door saved his mind from wandering, switching to clean clothes, some days dark colors were always a good choice for Deceit, other days he felt the need to be dressed with a flurry of vibrant colors.
Since he was already awake he was there early smiling at Poverty about their recent talk, but the smile did not last long, frowning in disappointment that the Harbinger was not around even though he asked for them to come. A touch rude, isn't it? Kain watched and listened greedily to the spat his twin had with the quack, [i 'Ooo, girl.'] Kain mentally snapped his fingers as he eavesdropped a bit more, enticed by the gossip. Slaughter arrived looking just as stupidly serious as ever-did this man [i ever] smile? Should he tell him some jokes? [i 'Oh, jokes are so much fun, let us have some fun with some jokes.'] His mind went off about jokes and Slaughter was completely forgotten.
The argument between Orlaralei and Rowan was a nice little bit of entertainment and then his attention was brought back to Aisha, ah so fair a maiden yet so deadly a touch. Death followed poverty like a blanket of misfortune, wells dry up with a single touch, harvests wither and die from her path, all the gold a king could own stripped away with naught but a kiss from lips so tempting. Abruptly his thoughts and musings were interrupted by an unfamiliar sensation of a hug, arms wrapped around him by his sister. Immediately Kain started squirming and flailing his arms dramatically and over-the-top theatrics, as if she had contracted the plague itself.
[+blue "Unhand me, heathen! Knave! Vagrant! I've never met this woman before in my life! Desist!"] Kain writhed and wriggled in performance agony, howling at the sky with a fear-inducing radius of audial terror. [+blue "Help! I'm being abducted! Stolen! Deceit-napped!"] The hug was like torture, he tried to even push his sister away but she clung tight. When she kissed his cheek he pretended to gag as if he was going to vomit, she taunted him about his appearance and form, how she hated it.
[+blue "That's more reason to keep this form around-hate it all you like."] He was much more calmer and quieter when the hug ended, sticking his tongue out at Orla again before she moved on the Aisha.
It was several minutes of just standing around being bored before the Harbinger finally made his appearance, he gave many apologies to them before he began to tell them what the Oracle had explained. Their first [i real] target was named Alyssia, a 'Saint' who guarded the sigils to the Lord of Death's cage. The Harbinger omitted the true name of their lord, the power of a name still warranted some caution. Finally! They could kill one of the saints, these forlorn heroes who once were celebrated at taking down the Archons and the Lord of Death; now become lost and soulless shells of their former selves, relics of a bygone era that cling to anything that would remind them of their glory days.
Ah, nostalgia-one of the greatest and easiest exploits Deceit could have, he had [b so] many ways to twist, tease and taunt them with memories. From what the Harbinger explained Alyssia had become a bitter woman, scorned by the test of time, and relishing in what once was, and cursing what has become of them.
[b "Saints are not like villagers, my Lords and Ladies, they are holy warriors but their favor from their God is waning-every corruption causes them to slip even deeper in the darkness. The time to strike is upon us, you must use everything to make sure this saint falls."] The Harbinger brought out an empty chest, small yet spacious. [b "The Oracle has directed that we behead Saint Alyssia, and place the severed head in this chest, locked and sealed in the depths of our keep. We need to do this to every saint, with each death our Sovereign is freed little by little. Glory shall rain upon us once more."]
[+blue "Finally! Some assassinations! I thought I was going to go crazy if I don't chop somebody's head off."] Kain [i loved] beheadings, sometimes if you were lucky and in the front row you could pick up the head and mess with it. It was a favorite pastime, making the dead head talk to people, grossing them out as he'd pull all the nasty bits from the inside of the head-like gutting a pumpkin-as he laughed. He wanted to do that again, he laid claim on it, effectively calling 'dibs'. [+blue "I call for keeping the head!"]
[b "If you are all ready, Lords, we can head out now-it is not far and we shall take one of the wagons for transport. Everyone climb in and let us set forth to breaking the first sigil."]
Aisha had spent most of the night in one of her moods, going over the plans and thoughts that Kain had mentioned of his plan to take over the realms. She wondered if all this could be done, but still manage to set free their Lord of Death. Kain didn't want to free him, but if Aisha did, surely she'd be rewarded for her loyalty? Orla and Gane were too busy in one another's pants, and they were only aiming to free their Lord because the Harbinger had been giving them the information to do so. Kain was insane, he wanted all the Realms of Hell for himself. She was sure that he only came to her about it because she could would understand the emotion of greed. Rowan just wanted to experiment and make people suffer. She didn't fault him that, so she held nothing to him.
So many hours she had spent that she had fallen asleep along her bed without getting under the covers and sleeping properly. Though sleeping in a bed was much better than sleeping in those stone imprisonments of torture they had been sealed in before. She had slept without any dreams, such was natural for her since she became an Archon. When there came a knocking on her door, she awoke to grab one of the other treasures she'd collected, and threw it at the door where it shattered against the strong wood.
[#e6aa00 [b "This had better be good, if you are waking me this early..... or else I shall drain you dry to break my fast of the night."]] she growled sitting up on her bed. It was then that she heard the Harbinger's name, they were being summoned back downstairs. [#e6aa00 [b "If that little pest had not taken such grand care of my darling Staff in my absence, he'd be a dead man...."]] she snarled then sighed.
She stretched her neck side to side, causing it to make a cracking snap here and there before rolling her shoulders and along her back, almost feline like, to stretch out and pull herself more from sleep. Another knocking and she threw another treasure. This one was was made of metal and hit the door with a loud and ringing [i CLANG!] The little demon imps on the other side could be heard skittering away with whimpers. That at least brought a smile to her face a moment before she stood from her bed, and wandered to her closet to pick out something to wear. Dressed and pleased with her appearance, she made her way downstairs to meet with the others.
She was one of the first to come down, Kain was giving her knowing smiles, and she simply rolled her eyes and shifted her weight to her other hip, placing one hand to her hip in wait of the "Lovelings" to finally come down. Though once they did, she wished they had stayed in bed. Something sounded at the doorway leading into this main hall, and she turned her silvery eyes in that direction. Rowan came stalking into the room, a dagger in his hand, and his mouth beneath his mask was in a growling sneer. Orla entered in behind him, and Aisha could understand why he was upset. Once again, Orla did something she wanted to, and it pissed off someone else. Rolling her eyes she turned away from her as she walked in and spoke to her twin.
It wasn't until she felt eyes on her, did she look up again. Orla was eyeing her over and she frowned. She was wearing an emerald green peasant blouse that bared her shoulders, and was held tight to her curves with a golden corset that was decorated in hand woven lace. Her breeches were a golden chocolate, laced up from ankle to hip, baring her pale skin beneath and knee high heeled boots laced to accentuate her calves. It showed off her curves while still keeping her looking classy, a Lady of power. Humans had once described her attires as looking at fantastical paintings, and she rather liked the thought.
But seeing the look on Orla's face now had her reconsidering. Her words only rankled her hide even more. Compliments were always wanted and accepted, but from Orla? She was up to something. She kept her back to her as she passed behind her, a sign of showing she didn't think her a threat. But at the touch at the small of her back, she snapped her fangs in a warning growl. She was at Ganetrius' side now, and watching her lean into his side made her sick. She knew what she was doing, and it caused Aisha some annoyance. Continuing to speak up, she tried to goad her, offering to meet her in her bedchambers and let Aisha take out her hatred on her. The thought was tempting, but she knew Orla would enjoy the pain, not cower from it. There would be no joy in such an act for Aisha if there was no fear or cowing to the pain she caused.
She turned to fully face Orla and fluttered her eyes sweetly, accentuating the pout in her full lips. [#e6aa00 [b "Perhaps there is something that you were unaware of, Orla, darling...."]] Her tone went from honey sweet, to hissingly sharp then. [#e6aa00 [b "....slutty seconds isn't my style...."]] She sneered at her with a curled lip and then turned away from her once more. [#e6aa00 [b "Where the hell is the Harbinger..... I tire of waiting around aimlessly."]]
Orlaralei's relationship with Ganetrius was a strange one indeed. They were not bound together for all eternity, yet they stayed loyal. But then, they always seemed to be on thin ice with each, just on the verge of tipping into their destructive arguments. All it would take was one wrong word or move and they'd ascend chaos… However, no matter how toxic, petty or bloody their fights were, they were certain to crawl back to one another.
After he had pledged himself, and her hold on his mind, heart and soul dissipated, he found out that she had no intention of being with him. As she was persuading him, she had promised that she would always be by his side. That they would be together as he conquered the world's beyond… But this had been a mere lie, a part in her plan to bring him to the dark. By the time she was done with him, he did not sacrifice his mortal life for the one of an Archon because of his ambitions and greed. No, it was to be with her, he could not live in a world where she did not exist in it. Of course, his mad infatuation with her disappeared as soon as he was given his new title. Their powers did not work on one another but, he still expected her to stay true to her promises just as he had done.
However, she had laughed in his face as he reminded her. She told him that he was foolish to think that she would be with him forever. He wasn't pleased, to say the least, with the news and this would be the first of many temper tantrums to come. It took centuries and many attempts to kill her, that all failed due to Archons being immortal, for him to calm down. Of course, Orlaralei found it all rather entertaining and she'd even taunt him, most likely worsening the situation. But then, one day he gave her a gift of the very bloodied kind. It was a monk's head, she could still see the terror and fear in the dead man's lifeless eyes as blood had seeped out onto the floor. Ganetrius had gone before she could respond, but the gifts continued over the weeks until she had finally managed to catch him alone and repay him for his deeds.
At first, she just used the arrangement that they had as a stress reliever. As much as she loved being the Archon of Desire and having mankind at her feet begging, she enjoyed time away from that. But, that damned part of her that was still human grew attached to him, very attached and she developed her own infatuation that would stick with her even till now. After, potential, years of separation, there was a slight flutter in her heart. She felt weak because of it and even disgusted at herself, for allowing this to happen. It wasn't supposed to happen. Yet, as her slumber was disturbed by the audible knock at her door, tired lips formed a small smile at the sound of his voice. However, she groaned quietly as their beings were requested by the Harbinger.
She stretched out her arms, back arching slightly, before she rubbed at her eyes to get rid of the sleep. She opened them and golden iris peered up at the other. "We don't have to go just yet, we could always continue from where we left off…" Her suggestion was playful and, despite it not being serious, she crawled on top of him. She looked down at him and moved a black strand of hair away from his face as her other hand was pressed to the bed to support herself.
"Do you remember when we first laid? I gave you the idea that I had slept with that enemy of yours from the East… Well, that may have been a lie…" She paused for a moment to see his reaction. "I've actually never been in the same room as him. I just wanted to see you try and squeeze the life out of me like you had threatened, you were starting to become all sweet and it was sickening." She added on, swiftly getting off of him to stand on the floor before he could do anything. "You're not allowed to get mad at me for it now." She said teasingly, beginning to change into clothes. "It was too long ago and if I remember rightly, you left some dark, lasting marks." She commented, adjusting her hair so that it wasn't spilling over the pale skin on her shoulders.
Once she was ready, she approached Ganetrius once more. "I'm going to explore the castle, I'm sure those little, fat creatures have made some progress and I'm curious." She lied, not wanting to reveal her true intentions. In the middle of the night, she had heard a man's screams of help and she quickly deduced that a fellow Archon had brought a guest. She wanted to take a look without anybody else being there, maybe even play around with him for a moment or two. If she told Ganetrius what she was really going to do, he would grow jealous and they would most likely argue. "I'll meet you with the others." She stated, pulling him closer and leaning in for a short, passionate, lip biting kiss before she left him and the room.
She gently closed the door behind her and the echoes of her footsteps on the stone, cold floor followed her to the dungeons. Her pace was quick and she was there within no time. Stood in front of the cell were two imps, they straightened up from their slouched position and took on a defensive stance. "Cute." She said, before kicking them away. They made their disgruntled noises as they scrambled to their feet and scurried away.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the castle, Rowan had just finished getting ready when he heard another knock at his door. He sighed in annoyance and pulled the door open. "What is it?" He snapped, only to find no one there. He was beginning to frown until he heard a squeak. He looked down and saw the little creatures he told to guard the cell, he was about to demand what they were doing there until he remembered his request. Rowan thought he had been discreet in bringing his experiment to the castle, unless the human had been wailing too loudly. He slammed the door shut before the imps could enter. Then, he fixed on his black mask before he allowed the dark to swallow him. He appeared in the dungeons to find Orlaralei talking to the human. The weak man couldn't take his eyes away from her, even as Desire's gaze shifted.
"You weren't going to keep this young man for yourself now, were you?" She asked innocently, as the human desperately tried to reach out to her and squeeze himself through the bars. "He was supposed to be [i my] new test subject. Now you've ruined him." He glared at the woman who was now smirking at him. "I was only playing with him." She replied with a pout. He rolled his eyes before grabbing her wrist, dragging her away from the prisoner who was calling out to her.
"He wasn't yours to play with."
"But, sharing is caring, Rowan. Were you not taught any better?"
He rolled his eyes at that and didn't let go until they were close to the others. Suddenly, he roughly slammed her against a nearby wall and held a dagger to her throat. "Stay away from him, whore." He threatened her before walking into the room where their fellow Archons were.
Orlaralei was unfazed, that same smirk still present as she walked into the room. They were now all there, but seeing as the Harbinger yet to make his appearance, she decided to look to the others. She started with her sibling. Once close enough, she wrapped her arms around him in a tight embrace and, platonically, kissed his cheek. "Brother! You changed your form!" She said finally letting him go. "I hate it, darling, I preferred it when I couldn't see your ugly face. Change back." She tapped his nose and she turned to the Archon of Poverty. Golden eyes looked Aisha up and down, but not in judgement. No, she was enjoying the view and it was very clearly shown.
"Aisha, you are looking as gorgeous as always." She said as she walked behind the woman, she was close to her and she even touched the small of her back whilst passing by. She then ended up by Ganetrius' side but was not quite done with her. "Now, I really do hope you've stopped hating me. I mean at first, it was adorable and cute… But, it very quickly just became painfully pathetic and boring." Her eyes glinted teasingly in the light as she pressed herself against slaughter. "Though, if you do still hate me then I'd be more than happy to come by your room and let you take all that anger out on me." Her tone was now flirty and sultry, and she winked at Aisha towards the end.
[Right [pic https://i.imgur.com/aVED6hJ.png]]
The Archon of Slaughter, in life, was a cruel man who delighted in the torture and death of those he captured or those who resisted his tyranny throughout the expanse of his empire. Ganetrius held no kindness nor compassion for his fellow man, so it was both odd and uncharacteristic for him to develop any manner of feelings for Desire. Yet as a mortal man he could not resist her charms as she twisted his ambition and desire for world conquest against him.
Deceit laid the seeds of his destruction with placating words to soothe his fiery temper, but Deceit lacked certain [i qualities] that were needed to sway the warlord into the Lord of Death's service. Once he got what he wanted from Orlaralei, he agreed to become the next Archon after many protests. Ganetrius ended up dying in the war he waged with an enemy to the East, blinded by anger and ambition. An Archon could not exist in a mortal form, only through death could they descend into the bowels of Hell, chained to the Sovereign for all eternity. Slaughter did not have an attachment to the Lord of Death, save for his enjoyment in killing others.
After Ganetrius wrecked havoc on the village with the rest of his [i companions] he went back to the keep, their home away from home while they were stuck on the mortal plane. Slaughter's domain in hell was pure torment for damned souls, a frozen wasteland that encased demons and victims alike, forcing them to tear the skin off their bodies to pry themselves free from the clinging ice. Surrounded by a heavy blizzard Slaughter's castle was a treacherous destination for those who tried to reach his hall.
He went to his room, trailing blood and guts on his way until he was able to properly wash and cleanse himself of the carnage. Ganetrius could feel his power returning, the chain marks were practically all gone, a brief ignition at his hand allowed the trademark flames to envelope his hand. It wasn't as powerful as he was used to, the holy drain of imprisonment lingering; it was progress at least. He could not know when they'd be at full strength but the demon assured them they would regenerate as they worked on freeing Death.
Ganetrius went to Orla's room, a heavy hand knocking upon her door granted him access, she smiled to him as he entered. At her beckon he closed the door behind him without looking back, after so long being trapped in the sarcophagi, it was hardly a surprise how quickly Slaughter and Desire would come together. Their toxic relationship had many ups and downs, woe be the soul that chose to get between them. During good times the victim would be tortured for amusement, during the bad times they would be torn apart in the middle of the Archons' deadly arguments. The man practically pounced on Orla as she was so inviting, yet his touch was surprisingly softer than what one would expect, savoring the night filled with passion. Ganetrius was not able to be a 'gentle' lover, but he did mellow over the centuries with Orla, as best as he was able-some habits were just a lot harder to break.
In a darkened room along the east wing the Harbinger was performing a heinous and dark ritual, from the chest of virgins he ripped out their hearts. Cutting into them with the same wicked dagger he used to free the Archons, pouring the gushing blood into a large ornate bowl engraved with images of death. From the corner the demonic entity dragged a young child, bound and gagged they gave muffled screams and struggled feebly against the creature's grasp.
He held the young human in place, chanting in a foreign tongue, a fiendish language that caused the blood to bubble and churn. The Harbinger then killed the child by dragging the blade across their frail neck, the blood of the innocent causing the crimson fluid to darken and deepen into a rich violet. Draining the life from the small body the demon then tossed the corpse aside to puddle the remaining essence to the floor. The blood reacted heavily to the incantations until it stilled like glass and the face of the oracle appeared, the gaunt deathly face stared with milk-white eyes unseeing the physical realm.
[+blue "Speak, demon, for I have little patience for idle chatter."] The Harbinger nodded with a strange air of respect, as the Oracle was neither of humanity nor hell. A fallen Goddess blinded as her sacrifice for her gift of foresight, the Oracle was a celestial entity untouched by Death. If it suited her she could destroy the entire world and all in it without blinking, her power was without limit and demanded the utmost respect-even from a demon from hell.
[b "The Archons have been freed, as you have decreed, Mistress, yet they are weak and wounded. I have led them to regain some of their powers, but we will need more if we are to free the Lord of Death. What is thy next task?"]
[+blue "To the North, the first key to Raum's cage resides, a Saint fallen from favor her heart turned to ice. She guards the sigil with a bitterness, remove her head and the sigil will fail, then the first gate shall open. The name is Alyssia, place her head in a chest and seal it within the keep lest Kaidos tries to resurrect the Saints, this you must do with every guardian or your task [b will] fail..."]
[center [b ~*~*~]]
The morning light brought a chill to the air and frost dusted the grounds, a cold bite that gnawed at the grief-stricken village and the surrounding grounds. Yet beneath the covers Ganetrius slumbered undisturbed, the twinge of cold taking his subconscious mind back to his homeland. The tundra of the North beckoned to a forgotten soul, a young child left to die in the woods, blood soaked clothes freezing solid with the snow. The boy had nothing left but the cold, his family slaughtered by raiders, his house burned and all possessions lost.
From the pit of despair this boy refused to die, in the coming night he would venture through stealth into the raiders' camp and with stolen dagger return in kind the deaths they gave his family. Again and again he would plunge the blade into their bodies, consumed in tear-filled rage he left no survivors. Beset by death and hardship the boy would learn to take what he wanted to survive, the strong ruled and the weak served-that was the first lesson Death taught him...
A loud knock at the door awoke Slaughter, bringing his mind back from a lost memory, letting it fade back into obscurity as he slowly opened his eyes. Death had been by his side his entire life, watching from the shadows, intrigued by the would-be warlord's progress. Yet the Lord of Death had help in finding his Archons, celestial help that formed a debt to the Oracle-and it was time to collect. Ganetrius rubbed the sleep from his eyes as the knock became more persistent, loudly growling that if they didn't stop knocking he was going to chop their hands off, forgetting for a moment what room he was in.
[i "The Harbinger... your presence..."] The heavy wooden door muffled the voice on the other side, but Ganetrius knew what they wanted as soon as they mentioned the demon. They had more information, and hopefully, they would get closer to freeing their Sovereign. [right [pic https://imgur.com/T5dfQki.jpg]]
Rowan used the metal like claws of his beast form to tear and rip at the black skin suit. Mortals watched him in horror and he cackled as they tried to wrap their small, stupid brains around what was happening. This wasn't his true form, it was armour to protect himself whilst he was weak. But, as he gained power through the spread of his beautiful creations, he was able to live in his original self. With each strip taken away, revealed a tall, skinny man with spindly, bony fingers, thin lips that twisted in a sadistic grin, pasty skin and fiery, red hair. He was finally able to kick away his former self as he adjusted and brushed down his clothes. He then adjusted the mask that covered his eyes, nose and forehead before letting out a cackle. "It's good to be back!" He shouted out and snapped his head to look at the mortals, the black glass on the mask glinted under the lighter, only adding to his menacing look.
He had dreamed of this day during their entrapment, the day he could once again spread his germs and diseases. He watched as the mortals emptied their insides on the dirty floor, coughing copious amounts of blood, as their skin became riddled with mysterious lumps, bumps, boils and rashes that they would furiously scratch at. Then, after what seemed like endless torture, their life would leave their bodies and they would drop limply to the ground. Their screams of mine and cries was music to his ears.
There was no doubt in Rowan's mind that he wasn't the deadliest Archon. After all, he always killed the most, his plagues affecting the strongest of men and newest of babies. He may have been the last to pledge himself, but none of the others compared to him. Kain spread pathetic, petty lies, Aisha stole meaningless possessions and Orlaralei seduced the weak minded to do her bidding. The closest that came close to him, and the one he respected the most was Ganetrius. The bloodbaths that Slaughter created was a masterpiece, however, he threw temper tantrums like a child and he had his predictable romance with Desire. This was why he tended to keep to himself, he socialised with the others from time to time but it was always the same and the only drama that occured was Aisha's jealousy and whether or not Ganetrius and Orlaralei were together. Even that grew tiresome and he had not missed hearing them got at each other.
Once he was finally done with the humans, he turned and looked at the other Archons. Desire was going back to causing chaos, her hips swaying and tempting Slaughter. Then, her twin pestered Poverty. She looked very thrilled to have Deceit madly rambling on in her ear. Then that left him. He ran a gloved hand through hair and spotted a human trying to escape. He grinned and in a whirl of black smoke, he appeared in front of the human. "Going somewhere?" He cackled before punching the human in the face, causing him to lose consciousness and drop to the floor. Rowan decided that this human was going to be his new Lab Rat. He'd use this human to experiment his new genius ideas. He reached down, grabbed the collar of the human and began to drag it back to the castle.
Once there, he demanded for a cell to be prepared for their new guest and as soon as he entered the dungeons the Imps scurried away from him, allowing him to get to the prison. He threw the human inside and locked the door. Then, he promptly tucked the key into his pocket and instructed that the Imps guard the door and alert him if anyone tried to free the human. They eagerly nodded their tiny, fat heads and with a chuckle he retired to his room.
Aisha had followed the others down to the village, just the thought of what all she could claim and take away made her excitement rise. She decided to give her powers a little exercise and as she wandered through the streets, she would drag her ebony claws along buildings, people, gardens, even animals. People begged and pleaded with her to stop, offering her gifts and promises if she would stop. She smirked and asked for their money, their valuables, their men to dote upon her while she watched the women be forced to fight one another to try and earn their men back. Affairs were brought to light whether business or pleasure.
She would feed on their desperations, on their greed, and how they turned on each other. Some offered her services, and some doted on her beauty. She turned to one man, young and full of life. Just becoming an adult, barely have been able to even taste love yet. She asked him who the most beautiful woman he had ever seen had been. He claimed her over and over again. That was until his young eyes spotted Desire across the way having her own fun. He then began speaking as if in a trance of the beauty of Orlaralei and this angered Aisha. She glared at the woman as she stood abruptly and growled deeply, grabbing the man by his throat, her claws digging deeply into his flesh as she pulled him close and fed from him. As she did all of those around her began to wither and die around her as well, all turning to dust. As she fed on them all, her horns slowly began to spiral and grow form her hair where they had been broken, and soon she was back to her beautiful self once again.
She waved a hand over her newly obtained treasures and sent them back to her room. She'd been having such fun with them all until Desire had to ruin it all. She was no longer in a playful mood. She didn't even keep a couple of the men to feed on later, she had simply ended them. In her usual haughty attitude, she made her way back to the castle, leaving a trail of lifeless husks and ash in her wake, an outward sign that she was obviously irritated once again. On her way back she noted Orla and Gane had met up with a few passing words, no doubt going to spend the night with one another like it was some secret. She had wondered how long it would be before they coupled again. She waited to let them go into the castle, ignoring the manic wails from the roof where Kain had decided to perch. She would tend to avoid the others when she was in one of her enviously pissed moods. This was usually when Kain liked to bother her the most.
True to his nature, she had started for the castle when Kain dropped beside her, having taken his masculine form, and began to speak with her. He cracked a joke and Aisha could only roll her silvery eyes in annoyance. He then made mention of his looks and she shrugged away from him with a warning hiss. And they said [i SHE] was full of herself. If anyone could match her love for herself, it was Kain for himself. [#e6aa00 [b "Do not test my patience tonight, Kain... I am in no mood for your games...."]] she warned. She flexed her fingers and all one had to hear was the cracking of her joints to understand how angry and jealously enraged she was. He spoke of needing to talk about freeing their Lord of Death, but she continued to walk on, though this did not stop him from speaking to her as they headed on.
He stopped her as he moved in front of her and she placed her hands to her hips as she shifted her weight to one hip. [#e6aa00 [b "Surely, you are not serious... you've tried this before, Kain... your punishments had been lenient, but if you continue to try and overthrow our Dark Lord then eventually you will be punished much, much worse. And don't try acting like I'm the only one you're going to try and bring into this.... last time you did this, you had us all against one another - not like it takes much to do so - and then you were left in pieces for several years to slowly heal over in solitary...Besides.... you claim 'Lord' of Death.... there is in fact a Lady in our group."]] Obviously, she meant herself, she didn't consider Orla to be much of a Lady in her own opinion. Kain just prattled on in his overly energized fashion, she had learned to never watch his hands, only his face when he spoke, otherwise he'd lead you to your own doom if you let him.
He went on about how their Lord was captured, and if they could find a way of taking over the Realms of Hell together, they'd be able to take over the Lord of Death's reign in his absence. She had heard this all before, but then again he did have a point in the fact that this time things were different with their Lord being trapped. The only difference between her and Kain was she wanted to free the Lord, but if she and Kain could manage to round up all the realms of Hell in His absence, then maybe their Lord would finally see how much better she was than the rest of them. Or would He simply consider her a fool for listening to the insane ramblings of a Deceitful Imp? One had to be very careful when listening to Kain and his lies and twisted words. [#e6aa00 [b "If you believe this can work again, you've truly become more insane than you already are...."]]
If she was as crazy as Kain, she just might think that this could work, but it would take a lot of planning, and Kain would have to be able to keep the plans quiet. His twin would try and stop them if she found out, and she was done with Orla always getting things that [i SHE] wanted. Perhaps it might be time that Aisha got what she thought she deserved. HE asked her to think about it, and then soon he was off on his own errands once again. She stood there a moment before continuing her way back to the Castle. Kain's words on her mind. Reaching the castle and up the stairs, through the corridors, she stopped and hid around the corner when she spied Gane at Orla's door. She grit her teeth and her silvery eyes flashed a greenish-gold as he stepped into the room and closed the door.
She stomped to her room in her refueled anger, pacing around her room and lifting treasures here and there until her anger became too much and she began throwing things, uncaring if they shattered on the walls. She never understood why Orlaralei caught the eye of every man, be them of Earth or Hell. Aisha believed herself to be far more gifted in her looks and figure, she was just as powerful, maybe even more. She could bring riches to anyone, or she could ruin them with a single touch. So why did everyone like Orlaralei better than her? Kain's words came back to her. If they found a way back into Hell and brought all the Realms together, she could take Orla's realm from her, use it against her, prove to her that Aisha was the better woman in all ways, and then finally they would all see they had been pining for the wrong woman all this time.
But Gane was protective of her when they were in their "lovey" state. He wouldn't let harm come to Orla if he could help it. Plague hated everyone so would be easy to single out, but those two... Love. Could the Archons even truly love one another? Or anyone? The only one Aisha thought to be able to even possibly love with her darkened heart was their Lord. Another treasure, an ornate vase, was thrown once again with a snarling growl as it shattered against the wall. These tantrums were usual for her, especially when she was in one of her moods. Sighing she stripped down and bathed, grabbing a gown for the night and a robe while she let her mind wander the ups and downs to the Deceitful Lunatics plans.
The personification of Deceit changed once more, the overwhelming power surge allowed the Archon to mold themselves anew, shedding the manic jester with a flurry of dark consuming shadows upon the roof. This was his traditional form, the flesh he was born with-he lived through illusions, manipulation to what people perceived him to look like. Kain was the King of Lies, yet the Fool of Souls, there was nothing in his life he did not fabricate in some way. [i 'People are easy to persuade, bluff or intimidate-it was all in the tone, you know.'] Some parts of his personality was deeply ingrained with him no matter what persona he took. Running a gloved hand through his stark white hair he gave it a tousle before jumping off the building, right as Aisha passed him.
[+blue "Aisha, glad to see you here, I just wanted to [i drop in]."] There was a pause as he stopped to laugh at his own silly comedy before continuing, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and got [i way] too far in the Archon of Poverty's space, leaning in he acted like he was going to whisper something. [+blue "Now, before you pass out from how attractive I am... I need to talk to you about this whole 'freeing the Lord' and all that."] Kain kind of took over as he talked rather quickly, like the words could not wait to get out of his mouth, and he constantly talked while on the move.
[+blue "What's to stop one of us becoming the Lord of Death, hm? I cannot be the only one thinking this, right? Check this..."] He removed himself from Poverty's side, to stand in front of her; Kain talked and gestured with hands, kept them moving as an underlying distraction out of habit he learned from all those centuries ago. This was an idea that he expressed before-a long while back before their imprisonment. It was in his nature to scheme and plot, their Lord could not fault him for thinking this way. Typically nothing would ever come of this ploy but the playing field was different now...
[+blue "He's trapped, probably in a hole somewhere-the entire realms of Hell are running crazy, like Great-Uncle Theodoric when he was locked in the brewery by himself over night..."] He trailed off lost in a memory, before he snapped back and continued as if the moment never happened, [+blue "What if we break into Hell, regain control of the five realms?"] Kain moved around Aisha, to her other side still talking with his hands and looking around shadily. [+blue "-With the force of two realms or more, we could easily knock the quack and the man-child out of the competition."] The quack he mentioned was the Archon of Plague, Kain had witnessed them using the power just as he did to regain themselves. The man-child, he didn't think he'd need to explain, everyone [i knew] how badly Slaughter took any negative emotions. Very much like a child who never learned to use their words when angry, Kain kept moving and walking with Aisha every so often turning to look around with a crazed paranoia while plotting.
[+blue "You'd have to leave Orla to me, I know her better, she'd be hard-pressed with the idea as it is now..."] Orlaralei was disgustingly attached to the man-child, the way they hung off each other when they were 'in love' was enough to make him vomit. He made his opinion on Ganetrius very clear, he'll always break her heart repeatedly but constantly Orla takes him back, like a drug they could not abstain. She'd never allow him to take over Slaughter's territory unless she was really pissed at him, which meant Kain had his work cut out for him if he did go through with this. If it backfired he jeopardizes his relationship with his twin, and a scolding from the goat-demon, the Harbinger. He was far too important to kill or lock away, he was the First Archon and he was far too valuable to their Sovereign to get rid of. Kain held up both hands in a shrug as he stepped a little bit away from Poverty, his gold eyes flickered among the blazing fires from the villagers' raids on their own buildings.
[+blue "Just give it a think, right?"] Then he left, as just as quickly as he jumped down he scrambled up another building that was partially on fire Deceit cackled maniacally when he got close to the burning roof. He caused the villagers to gasp, cry out and shriek as he frightened them by screwing around with the flames and throwing firebrands into their small crowds aiming for their heads. He spent hours into the night before finally returning to the keep, going up the stairs he caught Orla's bid to have a horrible night. Kain stuck his tongue out at his twin childishly and hissed that he wished her hair would fall out as she slept; this was their way, certainly there is some modicum of familial bonding in there somewhere. Outside his room he found the fattest imp outside his bedroom door, it got up from sitting on the floor and looked at him confused. It knew him...
[+blue "Mister Impy! Were you waiting for me?"] At his voice the imp gave a snuffling grunt, wiping its grossly slimy nose with its forearm. The imp recognized him at least, stepping out the way as if Impy was strong enough to take Kain on but choosing not to. Kain took off a small boot-dagger, the blade barely three inches long and handed it over to the imp. [+blue "Keep this on you, Mister Impy, I will teach you how to use it and you can protect my belongings with far greater chance than with..."] Kain looked down to what Impy had in his hand, a hand brush for sweeping the floor. [+blue "-A cleaning brush."]
[+blue "Stand guard, ol' chap, I'm hitting the hay."] Kain yawned halfway through his sentence, patting the worshiping Imp on the head as he entered his bedchamber. Deceit would sleep the rest of the night without a single disturbance from his inner insanity, showing just how exhausting the entire ordeal had been. The morning would certainly be better...
Orlaralei's powers grew with every mortal that crumbled under their need to fulfill their desire, she forgot how painfully pathetic they were. But, she loved it, she had missed it and never wanted this to end. She wanted to make the humans burn their village and eachother to a fine ash. However, she refrained from doing so, no matter how easy it could have been. All she would have to do was whisper her wishes into their ears and they'd scramble over themselves to get the task done.
Instead, she turned their hearts black and fed from them. She made lovers tear eachother apart, fighting to be with her, friends and family turning on one another. Then, there were the ones that took what they wanted and when they wanted it. Houses, shops, taverns were destroyed and looted. When they were done, they came crawling back to her, boasting about what they had done, seeking for her approval. It was these ones that she killed.
She would plunge her long sword into their stomachs, slice along their throats, hack limbs off of their bodies. The blood coated her skin and seeped into her clothes, leaving a pile of lifeless bodies behind her. She had just finished cleaning the blood off of her skin with a cloth when a man approached her. He was tall with broad shoulders and strong arms. Yet, as she locked eyes with, he visibly weakened and fell to his knees. He looked up at her devotion, brown eyes staring up at her and his lips parted. As if he were breath taken. A smirk of amusement twisted at her lips. She ran a hand through his brown hair before gripping a handful tightly. The man winced, but never looked away. [#800000 "Am I pretty?"] She asked him, curiosity filling her words. He eagerly nodded his head. [#800000 "Say it."] Her voice was demanding yet soft.
[#6A5ACD "Yes, I have not met a woman as pretty as you and I don't think I ever will. There is no other like you."] She hummed approvingly and the man smiled, happy to know he was doing what she wanted. She let go of his hair before slowly moving around him, much like how a predator circles their prey. Her hands massaged at her jaw, awakening muscles that had not been moved in quite some time. Her mouth began to open and stretch, revealing slits in her skin. A click came from her jaw and it opened much wider than any human should be able stretch. She was finally stood in front of him again and she repeated her question. He took a moment to answer, but his expression never changed. He was in complete awe of her. His hands reached up and grabbed at her clothes, brining her closer to him. [#6A5ACD "Yes, Orlaralei. Yes. There can be never be another that's as pretty as you. Words cannot describe."] She gave another him of approval and nodded her head. Suddenly, she wrapped her hand around his throat, squeezed and began to dig her sharp nails into his skin. He let out a strangled gasp, but he did not stop her, his own hands dropping to his side's. She then slipped a small a dagger and it's blade glinted under the moon. Then, with careful precision, she she slashed two slights from the corners of his mouth and along his cheeks. Her grip around his throat tightened to quieten his strained cries of pain and she began to laugh. Despite all of this, he looked at her the same way as blood spilled down his jaw and mouth.
She slid the dagger back into its holding place and she let his throat go so that she could retrieve her rapier. She ran her finger over it's blade and licked the blood that had gathered on her finger tips. She looked to the man and gave a small scoff before walking past him and out of the tavern. She looked around and took a moment to appreciate the artwork they had all made of the village, she turned to each Archon before eyes finally landed on Ganetrius.
For the first time since their release, they were looking at eachother. She sheathed her sword and waited for him to say something, anything. She knew he wouldn't, she was very much aware of those who were watching. Instead, she followed those piercing eyes of his and her own pale, yellow ones landed on a woman. She then smiled, rather genuinely as she studied the lifeless woman's hanging jaw, skin and muscle torn apart. She flicked her attention back to Ganetrius and made her way over to him. Once close enough, she spoke up. [#800000 "When we get back to the castle, and after you've cleaned up... Come by my room tonight and I'll show you just how much I've missed you."] Her voice returned to its sultry, silky tone. She took her time in looking him and down and even bit her bottom lip before she began to slowly back away from him, and then she disappeared off into the village without waiting for a response.
Her relationship with Ganetrius was complicated to say the least. When they were both on good terms with one another, they never seemed to be apart. Clinging to each other and taking every opportunity to be alone. When they were together, nobody else really mattered and they spurred each other on. However, things always seemed to turn messy and hostile between them. Their relationship was a constant battle of winning and losing. It was toxic, they both knew that, yet it was highly addictive and no matter what one did, the other would come right back. It was a never ending circle that Orlaralei never wanted to end. As she wandered through the village and then finally back to the castle, she passed the time by thinking back on their times together and her fondest memory was their first meeting...
After Ganetrius had caught the attention of her Lord, it was Caen that had been sent down first to convince the warlord to join them. Her twin had been close, so very close with the sweet, promising lies that they had told. Deceit came back empty handed and so, it was Orlaralei that was sent next. She learned what she could from her twin and her Lord before going to earth to bring him in. She had been informed that he was a greedy, bloodthirsty warlord who took what he wanted, when he wanted it. No man, woman or child could stand in his way. She was surprised that Caen could not persuade him, they had filled his thoughts with the possibilities of conquering more than just pathetic kingdoms, that instead he could expand his empire by ruling the entire world.
She already knew it would be an easy task, once she had him trapped under her charm, he'd do anything that she wanted. No mortal had been able to deny her, and she was sure that he would be no different. She planned on continuing with Caen's lies, however she would coat them with her honeyed words and use her charms to manipulate his mind to join them. So, dressed in her finest clothes, she travelled to his city.
At first, she had just been a disappearing face in the crowds for him. Whenever he was outside in public, she'd catch his gaze and send an amorous smile or a flirty wave in his direction. When he would follow her, she led him through markets and homes. But, before he could get too close to her, she would vanish. She would do this for two weeks, enough for him to know that she was not a figment of his imagination and to keep his interest.
Then one day, whilst he was busy torturing the poor, innocent souls of war victims, she snuck into his palace. Of course, she had been able to surpass his guards and servants. If someone tried to stop her, she simply looked at them and they left her alone. She had even convinced a feeble servant to direct him to his throne room. Once outside the sturdy, oak doors she told the servant to retrieve his master before pushing the doors and walking into the room.
The place was grand, with tall stone walls, paintings of previous rulers were hung proudly, strained glass windows allowed streams of light in. A long, plush, red rug led up to the throne that stood at the top of the room. She had walked over and lounged across it as if it were her own. Though, she preferred her throne. She had just been tracing her fingers over the fine metal work when Ganetrius came storming into the room, the crashing of doors being his entrance. He had stood in front of her, handsome face scrunched into a glare, his hand gripping his sword and his booming voice had demanded who she was and to get off of his throne. She had mocked him for his temper before delving into why she was there.
The warlord was an open book and their conversation had turned from glares and threatening, to her sitting on his lap. Then, as they engaged in a rough, lip bruising kiss, Orlaralei knew that he belonged to her and that he would now pledge himself with the ideas that he could rule the world with her by his side. What happened that night turned into history, a history that would repeat itself again and again...
Orlaralei had returned to the castle and after bidding her sibling a horrible night, she retired to her room. She had slipped out of her bloodied clothes and scrubbed the crimson red from her pale skin and black hair. Once dried, she slipped into a dress that hugged at her body and allowed her hair to hang over her exposed shoulders. She had just settled down onto her bed when she heard a knock to her door. She told them to enter and she smiled as she saw Ganetrius come in. She then reached her hand out to him and made a 'grabby' motion at him.
Ganetrius was brutal to those he deemed worthy to die by his sword, hacking and slicing them open, spilling out steaming piles of their organs as he cut them down or beheading screaming villagers as they ran. Of these he only targeted a few, enough to get the belligerent villagers riled up. A few innocents to bring out the those who'd fight back, there were those peasants who tried to stop him or block his path in defense of their loved ones. Those were the ones he killed with his hands. His sword was drenched in blood and the spikes upon its guard and pommel were coated and draped in strips of flesh, pierced pieces of muscle and organs, the shine of red flashed in stark moonlight.
Ganetrius was savage to those he killed with his hands, he tore, crushed and broke several bodies. Those who stood in his way he ripped through with his bare hands, pulling apart their chests and abdomens, yanking out their organs as they screamed and writhed on the ground. Slaughter maniacally dug his nails into tanned flesh, gouging out handfuls of greasy organs still warm with cascading blood. Ganetrius pulled out still beating hearts as they pumped the last bit of blood onto the dirt. He crushed ribs, snapped necks, broke arms and legs by either splitting the bone to break the skin or shoving it into vital organs.
Upon families and businesses did death descend in the forms of five, Ganetrius grabbed his last victim without a preference, a woman shrieking and striking back at him. He landed a vice grip on her jaw, pulling her mouth apart until the skin of her cheeks ripped and tore, splitting open as he broke her jaw at the hinge with a sickening, wet crack that wasn't even drowned out by her screams turning into a gargled bloody mess. Ganetrius was covered head to toe in red, gripping the woman's lifeless body like a macabre rag doll. Her lower jaw moved loosely, the skin that broke under the pressure split uneven and jagged, the broken jaw bones beneath her heavily bruised skin clicked and ground against one another in distressing ways as he tossed the body to the ground.
Then Slaughter did what war did best, he turned family against one another, neighbor fought neighbor over the victims' belongings, land and money. Driving a rift between survivors splitting the village community with the other Archons. Every Archon had the innate ability to make those of weak wills or lack of morals forget reason and logic, further bending them to the temptation of Death's generals. Ganetrius' shoulder length black hair was matted dark red to his face, in tangles covered bits of brain and organ matter. His gray eyes were like lightning against a backdrop of red, flickering firelight and moonlight in defiance and disdain. Already he watched the seared marks of burnt flesh receding beneath the rain of blood from where the holy binds of his capture once rested.
The Harbinger watched the Archons descend on the unsuspecting village with pride, hastily rubbing his clawed hands together in anticipation of the screams. The creature could not tarry long, after the first half a dozen screams of panic he was delighted enough to return to the keep. He would not stop the Archons in their reckoning, they knew the cost if they removed their closest power source. Power they'd claim from the fear of others. The Harbinger would convene with the Oracle to understand the next portion of their insurmountable task. Soon, Sovereign, soon...
They were left to their devices for the rest of the night, a night of danger and death, covered the streets in red, several houses were put to the flame in the urging of the Archons' mayhem. Ganetrius saw the brawls in the dens from Deceit, heard the bickering of twisted hearts from Desire, the twins taking several pieces from the village which descended into pits of madness. The very grass and ferns withered beneath Poverty, famine and drought stole what tiny surplus the village would have, wood rotted at their touch that soon festered with Plague's sickly additions. Several houses became contaminated by blood and disease, dozens of peasants screamed at the burning sores that consumed their bodies and caused a wave of pestilent rats to come feast upon the bodies left in the streets by Slaughter.
The very terrain was molded by the reach of their hands, spoiling and splitting, breaking and blistering by their onslaught. The night would be especially long, the sky grim with graven starlight, as the wailing heartbreak split the serenity of the night. Ganetrius was finished with those he let live, let them gather their dead and turn the treeline to ash with burning funeral pyres. As they were the new Lords and Ladies of the village, by domination and subjugation the peasants now belonged to them as serfs under the rule of Archon tyranny. They would use the village's labor and supplies to finish reconstructing the castle, or at least as much as possible.
As the new rulers of the village each Archon was free to go back and forth to village in the next few days as much as they desired, keeping a repeating threat of imminent danger like a heavy hand weighing them down. Ganetrius hated it but he was exhausted, a feeling that reminded him of being trapped in darkness, yet the regeneration from all the carnage could not be denied, already his wrists were healing from the burns and chain welts.
As the night lengthened and would grow older the Archon of Slaughter retired towards the castle, he paused for a moment, looking up towards the roof where Deceit shouted to the sky. Ganetrius crossed paths with the other Archons on his way out of the village, a giant covered in gore stopping a few feet from Orlaralei, his eyes contrasted against the red of his rampage. There were people watching, the rabble they crushed under heel watched all the Archons with terror. A slight turn of his head and the small flicker of gray drew the attention to the woman he broke the jaw of, they had a saying about imitation...
Overnight the Harbinger's imps worked tirelessly, clearing out the crumbled and collapsed lower levels, namely the dungeon and torture chamber. The demon had disappeared somewhere on the castle grounds but Slaughter did not care to find the old thing, there was one imp in particular that seemed to hang out on the second floor frequently, it was more squat than the others, with cheeks that seemed stuffed with sweet rolls. [i Mister Impy.] The tiny, fat thing cleaned the upper halls and the stairs but seemed to always return right outside Caen's door, often sitting beside the door in waiting when it was clear the jovial jester was not inside.
[center [pic https://i.imgur.com/GFTowUk.jpg]
[size11 [Kurale So, they were finally paying this quaint little village a 'visit' to do as they please and wreak havoc, this was something Caen could finally get behind in mere seconds. It was nice to be given such gifts as an entire room within quite the elaborate castle, but being given the chance of running free with pure chaos and strife in their mind was so much more fulfilling that they couldn't contain their childish laughter at the meager thought, hopping from one foot to the other as they imagined the confusion, fear, and terror in their victim's eyes.
That would all come soon, very soon, but for now, they settled for happily conversing with their sibling whilst sadistically, but playfully, messing around with Mister Impy, who in-turn appeared to be almost getting used to the torment, just sat there stone-faced and wishing they were somewhere else entirely. It was a routine that was destined to remain the same once all was said and done, Mister Impy would just have to learn to get used to Caen's erratic nature.
It was soon time to leave and tend to business, or really, wreak havoc on those that didn't really deserve the torment. Caen was more than thankful for this opportunity, after all, all the pent of energy from laying stagnant inside a dusty old coffin for centuries wasn't good for their mushed up mental state. They couldn't just stand around all day waiting for sanity to catch up to them. Caen turned to Mister Impy and lifted him in their arms for the thousandth times, but slightly gentler this time, almost cradling him like a small, fragile puppy. They faked their sadness behind their mask, sobbing their goodbyes through a shaky, unsteady voice supposedly rife with tears. Of course, all fake, but they knew deep inside they'd probably miss Mister Impy if something were to happen, they weren't completely heartless after all.
When they were all traveling to the village it wasn't long until Caen had completely deviated from the group to do as they very well pleased, without much thought for their fellow comrades traversing to the same tranquil settlement. They ignored most obstacles and distractions, mostly hellbent on causing as much discord as they possibly could within their power until their time ceased within the village, and the mayhem they caused was nothing short of traumatic and disastrous.
They began in the gambling dens disguised as the dealer where they purposely sabotaged each and every game until all the players turned on one another, knives and daggers in-hand ready to slash at each other's throats in this event of trickery. And then they came the happy little families that were quite quaint and cushy with their life, all soon to come to a heartbreaking end once Caen had pulled them all apart from each other, yanking at all their strings like some puppetmaster as their relationships were broken and destroyed, reduced to mere dust. Throughout everything that they did, Caen felt no remorse or sadness for their poor victims, nothing at all but joy, happiness, and amusement at their predicaments, even those who were being tormented and brutalized by the other archons. There was slight competition in their mind, purposely trying to cause as much havoc as possible before the others, but it was all really the same to them in the end, they were just enjoying the view and adding to the mayhem.
Whatever you could really imagine the supposed embodiment of chaos could do, Caen very much did and most likely worse, all these silly little humans were the same in their mind and they were all just little puppets and toys they could mess with on a whim. They sat upon the crumbling roof off one of the once humble homes of a villager, crossed legged in the same fashion of some perky child, and outstretched their arms to the sky with happiness and merriment.
[#cf0722 [b "I haven't had this much in years!"]] They joyously shouted, tipping themselves back onto the roof until they were laid out flat, arms spayed out, and their face staring towards the sky. Even without their powers and full potential, they still found fun in the little power that they had. Unlike the others, there was no sense of vulnerability or shame at the idea of being this powerless, they were ecstatic either way, nothing could truly stop the chaos, even after they were gone.
She sat at the vanity that was now lit with random sized candles for a glowing, gleaming light along her features. She was brushing out her hair after a pouting session over her horns and fangs. She looked human minus the few other ticks that gave her away as an Archon. She hated this look. She hated being reminded of her human life, even if she couldn't remember all of it anymore, she remembered enough that she wished she didn't. Pulling the brush through her hair roughly as her mind wandered through the battle once again, wondering where they had been so careless to allow such a trap to happen.
Each Archon was careful, working together in battle like perfect pieces to a set. The battlefield was the only place they ever truly would see eye to eye, working together, and was probably the only place that Aisha would give the others any slack. Though once the battle was over, they were back to their ways, untrusting of the others, and bickering. She usually just kept to herself and her treasures. They never betrayed her, then again they couldn't talk or get up and leave on their own. She knew the others hated her, and in turn, she hated them, each for a different reason.
Kras hated them all, they trusted no one but themselves, not even their Dark Lord of Death. They simply wanted all of the world to suffer as they had, which she, of course, didn't blame. But to think themselves better than even their Lord of Death was even too far for herself.
The twins Orlaralei and Caen were the ones that had tricked her into giving up her wants on suicide and to give her soul over to their Lord of Death instead. Caen was an insane child, that much was obvious. She pretty much took everything out of their mouth as a lie and brushed it aside. Orlaralie was the embodiment of desire, anyone under her spells would run to her like a puppy after a treat. It didn't matter what she looked like, what she wore, what she had, she could pull anyone to love her with a mere glance. This made her competition if she was to keep her own thralls in place. She would never understand Aisha's hatred for her.
And Ganetrius. There were times one would think he would be like the leader of the Archons - only in title as they were all supposed to be equals and no one would truly listen if he decided to actually order them around. He was one for war and destruction, everything was a battle or a weapon or something to conquer. And yet such a being of chaos went chasing after the tart, even though their powers didn't work on one another.
Whatever Desire had that was so special was lost to her. She knew that Caen stayed close because the two were twins, even if they didn't always seem like it. Kras hated everyone, so he paid no mind to anyone. That left Ganetrius. She thought she had seen a chance to have someone for her side since the Twins had one another. But instead, he went chasing after the Orlaralei. Giving her little gifts from battle when he thought no one else was watching. It only went to prove that none of them would ever be trusted. The only one she would and could ever trust was the Dark Lord himself. Only he would understand.
Aisha was pulling her long hair up high so it wasn't bunched along the high collar of her gown when the Harbinger came to claim all of the Archons. She sighed and finished pinning up her hair before she reached for her weapon and headed from her room to join the others back downstairs. The Harbinger spoke up of the village they would be going after, and she wondered what good this little village would be. He then spoke up about not wiping every human there out and she gave a low hiss. She hated leaving people behind. He spoke of using those left over and a thought struck her.
[#e6aa00 [b "I could always use a few for a good blood bath..... I'm still missing a few pieces, and the blood would help them to regrow them faster..... not to mention we could always put one or two back for meals in between villages..... at least until we are all at full strength once again...."]] she purred in thought as she shifted her weight to her hip. She looked around to the others to see if they agreed, though she didn't rightfully care either way as she boredly flicked a bit of dried blood from beneath one of her talons.
If one were to look at the twins, it seemed like Orlaralei was older than Caen and in a way, she was. Her sibling had joined the Lord of Death when they were in the early years of adolescence. They never gave themselves the chance to grow up properly and mature, unlike Orlaralei who pledged herself as young woman of twenty one. Though, she often doubted that, as a human, her sibling would have ever learned to mature and she was certain that they would have maintained their childish charm.
She was taller than them, her voice was sultry and clearly belonging to that of a woman and she had long since developed out of a child's body. Orlaralei often felt like she was the older sibling with how Caen followed her around like an insane, little duckling who was lost. Sometimes, it was endearing, other times it was annoying and the Archon of Deceit would most likely do it on purpose sometimes. However, due to not seeing her twin in so long, she did not mind being followed around and clung onto. For now.
She gazed upon the poor creature that was being held against its will with a sympathetic look and she was even about tell Caen to let ‘Mr. Impy’ go, until it was dropped carelessly to the solid, cold stone. She sighed softly and loosley crossed her arms she leaned against the old wood of the door frame.
“[#800000 I love chaos as much as you do, dear sibling, but I prefer the destruction of the mind. Watching the mortals lose their sanity to their desires is much more satisfying and fulfilling than physical destruction].”
She explained, a smile settling on her lips as she thought back to the good days of when hell was on earth. She hated with every fibre in her being that in their absence, the Archons and their powers had been forgotten. It made her feel sick to think of such peace that had settled on this world. Her eyebrow quirked upon hearing what Caen said next.
“[#800000 Why are you surprised? I don’t always go after him when he has temper tantrum… Or at least I didn’t… As for Aisha, well, all I have to do is stand near her and it gets her going].”
She said with an amused hum. She couldn’t quite understand why Aisha disliked her so. She understood that most of the Archons didn’t get along with one another unless they were all on the battlefield. But, Poverty always seemed to look at her with disgust and she wondered if the Archon was jealous of her because she had something that she didn’t. She rolled her eyes at Caens statement of them loving all of the Archon’s, another sign of their lack of maturity.
When the Harbinger had come to collect them all, she had gone back into her room and grabbed her rapier to then join the others. At first, she was going to protest against the Demons suggestion that they not completely take the village as they wanted. But, before she could even frown, the reason was explained and she kept quiet. She looked and studied the other Archons in their new garments before they departed, her eyes slightly lingering on Slaughter a moment longer.
She was only starting to realise how weak, powerless and vulnerable she truly was. But they were nearing the peaceful village and she could already feel the desires of the mortals. It made her smirk, Mortals may have been truly and incandescently happy with their serene lives, but, they were the same destructive little creatures that they had always been. It filled her senses and she could feel it coursing through her veins.
Orlaralei targeted the intoxicated first, their minds were the easiest to manipulate and were serve as an appetiser to her hunger. She whispered sweet nothings into their ears, her hands roaming their bodies, persuading them to give in and give themselves to their wants and ambitions. They did the dirty work for her as they argued, fought and killed meanwhile she fed on their emotions and behaviours as well as their lust for her. She soon had wide smile on her face as she grew stronger and she could see the others doing their own piece to destroy this once perfect village. She danced her way through homes, pubs and shops leaving a trail of desolation behind her. She left no man or woman untouched.
However, she did leave the young children alone. A part of her mortal soul had somehow survived her death and was now her weakness. One of her only weaknesses and as much as she wanted to manipulate their tiny minds, she just couldn’t. So, she ignored their innocent faces and carried on as if they did not exist.
Deceit followed Ganetrius for a while with their constant pestering how he loathed to hear their voice seep from behind that mask. They babbled and ranted like any asylum patient, striking chords of dissent with each syllable. Ganetrius ignored them when he was venting his anger upon the thicket of trees near the broken castle. When he did not give Deceit the rise they were looking for they left him be, chasing after their sibling like an estranged whelp.
Deceit was the reason for all of them pledging their service to the lord of shadow but that did not mean they ruled over the other Archons. Who would want to serve a lunatic in the first place? Slaughter knew what it took to rule and the soul that used to be Caen lacked much, it was enough of a struggle for their division of Hell to be kept afloat as it was. How many times did he have to send back a few heads because Deceit could not keep her minions under control? Or maybe that was the point, chaos was bred from calamity, so perhaps Deceit left their realm that way on purpose.
The Harbinger was delighted to show the Archons the estate-what was still standing, anyways-giving them free reign on picking out their rooms of varying styles. He bowed and scraped before their praises and told them they would be leaving shortly for the village, he knew they would be starved and did not want to make them wait much longer. Ganetrius gave no praise or kindness, the Harbinger's duties were outlined clearly as taking care of things for them that they could not be bothered with. Why would you praise someone for doing what they're supposed to?
The Archon then decided on a room, or the room molded itself to fit Slaughter, it was difficult to tell. The room's walls were adorned with shields and weaponry, suits of armor stood vigilant in corners and the only wardrobe boasted scars and carved with runes dating back to ancient times. The large bed was covered with heavy furs and long pillows laid along the headboard, the large frame was decorated with intricate interwoven cords and knots carved into the heavy wood. The room had quite a few furnishings, nightstand and desk with corresponding chair, it was rustic, lit by candles and had a lone fireplace for cold nights.
There was a single large chest at the foot of the bed, allowing him to stash anything and everything. A drinking horn rested upon the fireplace's mantle also showcasing twin spears fastened behind yet another shield above the fireplace. Slaughter's realm oft reflected the frozen tundra of his homeland, it came as no surprise that his room reflected it as well.
Ganetrius was brought clothes and small scraps of armor, they were nowhere near the armor set he used to wear but by the imps struggling to lift them he knew they would be the best he was going to get. Before imprisonment he use to wear a full set of accursed armor that burned with the same intensity as his hell blade. However, he would have to struggle to make do with what these whelps managed to bring. They were short and chubby beings, imps, squatting down with wings too tiny to actually let them fly. The Harbinger said he'd get them once everything was ready; how he longed for carnage, the sadistic urge to spill blood made him impatiently pace around the room.
The imps only managed to bring him a single spiked spaulder, both vambraces and spiked gauntlets, along with a protective gambeson underneath. It appeared he'd have to build up his armor as well, could they not be any less prepared? The Harbinger had left them to their own devices for a short while and now that Slaughter had let out the centuries of rage he could wander the grounds freely. He mentally noted where everyone would be staying, some were easier to find than others, if he was a talkative man he would have struck a conversation while they waited...
Plague seemed to have the most out-of-the-way room, but Ganetrius could hardly expect any different, the man was an outcast even before ascension. The man that became the beast they saw now. Twisted and malformed by the sickness of his undoing, Plague did not socialize with the others hardly ever. Had Ganetrius knew the soul of Kras before death, he might have had a different outlook on life; Ganetrius' people were from the far north and learned many alchemical advances throughout Slaughter's mortal reign. It was a far stretch to say that his people could heal Kras, yet they probably would have made his suffering easier, yet where would that leave Plague later?
Of Poverty, Deceit and Desire they took rooms in the upper levels, elevating themselves in the estate and the rooms seemed to adjust themselves to each inhabitant's wants. Ganetrius knew very little of Caen and Orlaralei's mortal lives, they were brought into the Lord's service before he was but he knew what they became after death. The same could be said for Aisha, Poverty, of famine and drought the land was beset by her touch. Ganetrius knew bits and pieces of Poverty's life, as both she and Plague pledge their souls after Ganetrius already died.
The Harbinger came to get them within the hour, the demonic entity had gathered them as quickly as possible, explaining the little village near the fallen castle. It was a small hamlet that produced a variety of wool, linen and sheep; the Harbinger cautioned the Archons against wiping out the village's entirety.
[b "Mayhap you might leave a handful of survivors to carry on and become your thralls over time, dear Archons."] Ganetrius did not mind subjugating masses of people by way of war and bloodshed, content to leave the survivors wailing to the skies in anguish and heartache. -Yet it was not only his decision. The Archons would ride over this world as black clouds of destruction, they would take the long-standing peace that enveloped the world and break it under Death's banner. Ganetrius still felt weak as the five would make their way to the village outskirts with the Harbinger in tow.
The village was quaintly nestled in a forest's clearing, the trees encircling little wooden homes with lazy smoke floating above the houses. They had a small lake at one end of the village with winding dirt paths worn by decades of use. This village and the lands surrounding it had at one time been owned by the lord in the castle, but as time had forgotten the keep no doubt the villagers forgot it as well. As they drew closer Ganetrius could see a few people already milling about, they seemed to be intoxicated as they swayed haphazardly in the roads, their uncultured voices slurring even from this distance.
The Archon of Slaughter once found humans quite interesting, even before his death, although they were all worthless, greedy and pathetic lots. How annoying the sounds of their voices were, droning on with their whining; Ganetrius had learned long ago that people were of no value, more were born every day, so who cared how many he killed?
The world had been without strife and chaos for so long that people had become complacent, they reveled in their happiness, and it was time to put an end to it all. The Harbinger held open a hand motioning to the village, enticing the Archons to let loose on the unsuspecting hamlet. These people would be the first to fall, and then they would make their ways throughout the land as much as they pleased. Slaughter would go through this village, unbiased as he would reduce families to piles of corpses-they would abuse, maim and kill enough to regain themselves.
[h3 [center Krasnovaarunslaad]]
Kras moved his arms, one crossing in front of his chest, the other the elbow lightly resting on the other, clawed hand resting just under his muzzle. The Archon of Plague seemed in thought as the Harbinger explained a bit more of the reason they had survived, the oaths they had all taken tying them to their Lord.
Instead, each and every one of them had been ensnared and thrown into the darkest depths of the region called 'Nath-Goron'. Then to just keep adding fuel to the fire so to speak, without their presence in their domains in the hells, the areas have gone rampant. Not too surprising, considering most of the denizens were either demons or other nightmarish creatures. Still though, to know once loyal subjects have been reduced to nothing more than bickering children was frustrating. Would there be anything left of their realms when they returned...well, [b IF] they were ever able to return.
So, they were stuck in this mortal realm for the time being. A world with no chaos, fear, disease, how boring. The world had become overripe with all the cheer and 'happy' things in their absence. A feast it would be indeed, for the Archons of the Lord of Death have once again been released into the world.
The creature's head tilted slightly to the side, hidden eyes glancing over the crumbling spires of the fortress the Harbinger had brought them. He took note as a few imps were skittering about around the rubble, doing what they could to clean and make things livable for them. Kras continued to watch for several moments, then looked back to the Harbinger when he mentioned [I 'mirroring their old fortresses'].
The line was received with a soft snort from the Archon of Plague. He hadn't been sharing a castle with the rest of the Archons, so that was a joke. No, it would never be the same, not as long as he was forced to be under the same roof with the others.
A sudden, sadistic smirk crossed the creature's muzzle as the Harbinger mentioned a village nearby, a nice appetizer to start off the main dish of revenge. His tongue once again slunk out, sliding along his lips. Kras clacked his powerful jaws a few times, imagining tender flesh between those fangs, rending it from bone.
He glanced towards the Lady of Poverty. Hmph, a pity she didn't receive a seal around her mouth to keep her lips shut. Would be one less thing to annoy Kras, but alas he was stuck for the time being. Heavy footsteps, seemed the Lord of Slaughter was off to take his pent up rage out on the foliage near the castle grounds while the rest headed inside to find a room.
Kras' choice of room would most likely be plain, taking a preference for a dank, dark, and musty cellar setting. The room was actually a floor above, right outside the hall which led down into the darkness. Most likely the rest of the Archons had chosen rooms higher up in the castle.
A simple bed was settled against the wall in the corner of the room, a bed stand nearby. A single wardrobe and a few drawers lined the walls, an old rug in the middle of the floor. The only thing that would've completed it would be a mixing set. Course, Kras would have to improvise while here in the mortal realm. He didn't have the normal poisons and other concoctions he preferred creating when in his own realm. Well, what was considered 'normal' in his realm was most likely something absurd for a simple, human mind.
He ran a claw along the table, mumbling to himself. Now to just try and remember what could be used for poisons and the such. Herbs, and certain creatures would certainly be the choice to find. Kras paused in his muttering, glancing towards the door. A few of the imps had come skittering inside, moving things back and forth, removing left over rubble. One of the creatures approached, holding clothes.
Kras looked at the clothing, then snorted. The only thing he grabbed was a belt which he could wrap around himself to hold his weapon and perhaps a few other things. Clothes were not needed for the creature. All he needed was a belt and a satchel to hold things at times when he went gathering for materials.
The creature pulled up an old chair towards the table, sitting down. He lightly tapped a claw against the surface, letting his thoughts go wherever they pleased. Kras had to admit, it was nice to be out of that stone casket and to once again be able to move.
It would be a welcome change to get out and about again than the same stone walls that had once encased them.
Until the time which they could go out and create some havoc, the Archon of Plague would be content to stay in his room away from the rest until forced to interact with them.
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