A Night to Die For (Mok and Rayage)

[Kale]

WarningDisclaimer: It is suggested that weak-minded fools read no further before they displace their food on their keyboard. This writer takes no responsibility for dirty keyboards. Date:To be decided after a discussion with the participants Cries of anguish and pain filled the cool night air like a melody. Sunberth was singular in the fact that it, unlike almost any other city on the face of Mizahar, was full of those that would ignore such cries. In Sunberth there was an unwritten rule; Live and let live. It was not a surprise therefore that the majority of dangerous and nefarious deeds were committed behind the veil of night. It was only the dangerous or the foolish that dared to brave the streets of Sunberth after darkness had fallen. The dangers that filled the city in its twilight hours, however did not always keep to its self. The remains of a broken door littered the floor of the scantly furnished lodging. The splinters of the wooden door were bleached white, the color and state of the wood brought about from years of disuse. The strong scent of filth and waste drifted into the hut through the shattered door. The home was located in one of the less wealthy portions of the city. Normally living in such squalor would have saved its occupants from most of the things that went bump in the night. Unfortunately, it was that very reason they were caught in such a dire circumstance. The man gazed at the cloaked figure in terror. The man had backed his way into the furthest corner of the single room house. The fear stricken man held his hands in front of him in an attempt to ward off his attacker. Cowering behind the man was a woman well into her third decade of life. Even in the darkness it was clear that she was plain faced. That coupled with the lack of a tooth on her bottom row of teeth had likely not made life for her easy. In the woman's arms sobbed a child. It could not have been more than a few summers old judging from the pitch of its voice. The cloaked figure took a step closer to the trio. The action caused the child's sobbing to escalate into a low pitched wail. The sound was the bolstering that man needed to break from the irrational terror gripping him and charge the cloaked shadow. Hands appeared from beneath the many folds of the cloak in response to the man's mad dash. The hands fended off the assault with inhuman quickness. The pale appendages kept a tight hold on the man's wrists. His defiant look was once again replaced with terror as he realized the grip was too tight to break loose from. The man struggles increased as he caught a glimpse of teeth beneath the dark figure's hood. It was no use. No matter how much the man struggled he could not pry himself loose from whatever it was that held him. Struggles turned to pleading as the mysterious hands finally began to pull him closer. The pleading became shrieking as the creature's intent became clear. It was no use. The man was held fast. The shrieking became a gurgle as the thing's teeth sank into the man's throat. Thick liquid spilled from the wound as the man's jugular was ripped from his neck. The cloaked figure kept continued to clutch the dying man and took another bite from the gaping wound. A strangled cry caused the thing to pause and turn its attention to the woman and child in the corner. A grin swept the thing's blood drenched chin. It tossed aside the lifeless body of the man and began to advance on its two remaining victims. Kale carefully stepped from the doorway of the hut. The remains of the three inhabitants of the shack were piled in the corner they had been found. There was very little left of the bodies, the contents being a few organs and various other body parts that had not been ingested. The undead creature's eyes peered into the darkness for a sign of any possible threats. Satisfied that he was in no immediate danger, he brought the child sized arm up to his lips and tore off a modest piece of meat. The taste and consumption of other sentient creatures was the only type of pleasure that Uldr had allowed Kale's undead body to be able to experience.

[Rayage]

When night fell there would be a shift in the city, yes, Ray observed it every night the subtle shift in mentality, the shift in thinking, the fear… Sunberth became even more dangerous as darkness fell into that sea of black that we call night. The shadows now filled the hearts of everyone who dared to walk the streets, and frankly Ray was lucky to have survived this many nights. Thugs were common, rapes, murders, but they all were turned a blind eye in a place like this, the lawless Sunberth. It was, for the nuit, one of the many advantages of being here. He could continue his work in relative peace, as soon as night fell. The nuit dared not expose his magical side to the public, hundreds of years of… experience told him it was wise to keep his work and his deeds to himself.

Children, how they are the future of us all, indeed, and Ray agreed. They fueled his research into life nowadays. They were his future, and although he was sure that is not what the scholars meant by the saying, he was sure that he would take from it what he will. The children were the easiest thing to just take, especially with so many just in the streets now after the Djed Storm. It was a shame for them to be put into such a situation, but that drives another saying to come to mind: One man’s trash is another’s treasure. That couldn’t be truer in a case like this, and so with the preparations all complete the nuit turned to the loaded alchemy circle and smiled seeing the child placed in the center of the circle, out cold from fright. On the Fount side of the circle stood two heavy rocks, it took the nuit all day to move them into their proper places, but now that he had succeeded there was nothing stopping him. He needed something to measure his half-life with. Over his time working with alchemy he found that the more transmutations he did, the better and more understanding in the art he got, the longer his half-lives would be. He also figured out that, through controlling how fast the djed spins around the circle, he could control how long the half-lives would be and how fine a transmutation would occur. All interesting variables controlled by the Alchemist.

Taking a moment he looked over the setup, the night was young, and the nuit had time. It was something that he always had, yet never seemed to have enough of, oddly. Is that why he still lives? Shaking his head, removing such thoughts from his mind, he needed to concentrate now. Having chosen a spot on the outskirts of Sunberth he was sure that he would not be disturbed here, which was perfect. Dagger in hand, with a quick flash of steel in the faint firelight, ichor was exposed to the land. Standing over the keystone the soiled hand dropped to his side as, the white substance dripping from his hand to the makeshift alchemy circle, and onto the keystone. This would be an easy enough transmutation, and if nothing more it will be better than last time.

Barefoot he felt the connection to the circle immediately when the ichor hit the keystone. It was almost instinct by now. He had been practicing Alchemy for over six centuries and never before has it felt more powerful, felt more real, never before has a transmutation made him feel more alive than when he was experimenting, playing with, someone else’s life. Yes, it was that thought that sent shivers down his spine and made him cringe a grin when he started to concentrate, forcing the Djed from the rocks to slowly start accelerating.

Even though he was advanced in the art he had come this far by working with the basics and expanding upon the ideas. He did one step at a time, every time. It was this that allowed him to be so successful. He cut no corners; he did the entire process, every time without fail. He did not care about speed, no, for he had all the time in the world. All the time in the world. So, slowly, he would allow himself to slip into the state of mind where he could do proper alchemy. Slowly, he would take this reaction and naturally he allowed things to flow. It wasn’t hard, you just commanded the Djed to go around the circle, it was the speed at which the alchemist can get the Djed streams going that dictated how good the reaction would be. It also takes great concentration to control alchemy streams at high speeds, and he was in no rush to get to that state quite yet. Others would rush the process, force things into action, but Ray, well he liked to think that he did things better and more thoroughly, and that will set him apart from the alchemists before him, and make him legend to those who come after. Yes, he will be more renown than Rupert Pycon himself!

As time ticked on the flow of the circle was steady, controlled, and moving at an already impressive speed. Again, he was in no rush, but this change in speed came naturally. He willed it faster, faster, faster, faster, and faster still. The Djed had no say in this matter, within and around the circle Ray was king, Ray was god, and he would command this change to happen, and there was nothing to stop him. No one at all. It was all too grand. Then, at its apex, at the very top speeds Ray could muster he stepped away, stepping off the keystone and at the same time he forced the energy to the center of the circle and at the child. A small flash would happen, a result of the energy being forced to such a small place, and then nothing.

Too bad there was no filter, and then perhaps the child would have had a chance. The result of the experiment was the same child, but he had the properties of stone. Basically a statue. He doubted that the child would survive the reaction, and now… all he had to do was watch to measure the half-life value of his new statue. He bothered not dowsing it with water as he went off into the distance, he needed to walk and think.

…

Sunberth had always been a dangerous place, but the shrill sound of screams caught the nuits attention. Barely inside the city again, he moved to investigate the source of the sound. Things like this were always interesting. Always, this place never failed to amuse him in some way. He had a sword and he looked scary enough, perhaps he could have some fun too. Yes, that is what it sounded like to Ray. Humans were so, interesting…

Following the sounds he soon found himself at a rather poor looking place. Of course it would happen here. Who would miss the poor? They have made nothing of themselves. The darkness made it hard to see, but it was easy to hear the fight which was going on. How they screamed. The nuit peered into the doorway, wood splintered over the place, he observed as he saw a man rush at a cloaked figure, but then was stopped. This was going to be interesting. What he saw, well, it wasn’t exactly human, but he couldn’t turn away. How fascinating, how wonderfully amazing, how, how great. What power! He thought as he watched the thing slay and eat the family, the nuit staying silent hidden by the shadows, the darkness of night.

Ray waited, yes he waited for the other to finish his meal, and when the creature went to come out Ray stuck to the shadows and was unnoticed by the man who walked right by him. The dark, isurian steel plated cloak he wore blended him more with the shadows. Taking some time to analyze the situation the nuit clapped a loud clap, and walked out of the shadows clapping ”You know how to put on a show.” he said, ”Pity there is little left.” he said glancing over his shoulder into the houses darkness before bake at the man once more, ”Im Ray…”

His words were cut off by the sound of feet and a yelling down an alleyway that drew the nuits attention. It wasn’t long before there were men at all sides of them apparently they had heard the screams too, and perhaps knew the people, who knows, it is a small world after all. One of them seeing the childs arm in Kales grasp stepped forward ”Stop monsters.” sword was drawn, it looked like the cloaked man was going to have some trouble… wait. He said monsters, as in more than one. Ray grinned; this was going to be more interesting than he thought. This is what he gets for snooping into something that he really had no business in.

Ray put a hand on his blade hilt, and summoned the power of hypnotism within him. He thought of doubt and what it meant and how it made him feel, eyes glued on the vigilante who dared step forward from the group. Playing along, Ray shot that emotion out, giving it life, projecting it with Djed, and forcing doubt into him as the nuit spoke up, ”You cannot win this fight.” He was confident in this others combat skills. He had a little of his own as he drew his blade with his left hand, the sword and arm falling to his side as if he did not know how to use a blade, but he was making as big an opening as possible, he wanted them to strike at his body, stab him, for that gave him an opening too…

[Mok]

Thick, black war paint sat at the bottom of the fire pit. In lonesome silence Mok made the last preparations for his mask. Tonight, none would see his face. Closing his eyes, the warrior dipped four fingers into the powdered charcoal and slowly applied it to his face, ears, neck and hair. He lathered himself in a thick, greasy layer. Only the white of his eyes and his teeth would be showing.

Now he meditated. The world diminished into nothing but nothingness. The only thing on his mind right now was breathing. His mind was blank; not even money crossed his thoughts.

He called upon darkness now. Deep within his heart was a brewing evil. Something that was found in the soul of every man, but very rarely found. Mok was different though. He had figured out how to harness this energy. How to bend it and shape it, using it as fuel for his work. The shadows of darkness swirled around his heart and soul, making its way throughout his body. It was slow at first, but as it spread, it picked up speed. Soon enough hatred was coursing through his veins. It filled every single part of his body; arms, legs, core, fingers, toes, everything. It was the fuel of his life. Survival drenched in the blood of his enemies. He embraced the moral terror. He became one with it.

THIS was the life of the blade. It was very different than the life of magic and sorcery. Logic did not govern him. Reasoning did not guide his action. Instead instinct was his leader. Horror was his governor. And he EMBRACED it. Mok kicked reason to the curb, convincing himself he could do the impossible. He was a true OG: no retreat, no surrender, death before dishonor. Intimacy was reserved for murder, not love. Blood was his nourishment. This was not a glorious life, but it was a life of pain and suffering. Not many people could understand it, but those who did would agree with these words; he was pure evil. Insanity in its simplest form.

Could you live the life of the blade? Would you pay the price without counting the cost? Do you have what it takes to roll the dice?

~~~

The night was black and without a moon. Mok moved through the city streets without a sound. He didn't even breathe. His goal was simple: make some money as fast as possible. There was no patience in his heart for a job. He would murder for a living. No in the arena though, but in the streets itself. Mok was not a man to be told what to do. He was his own boss.

Moving through the back allies and winding streets, the myrian would seek out whispers, words in the night that would lead him to his fortune. This process could take hours or it could take minutes. But the myrian was quick and he knew the right places to look: gambling halls, pulp dens, prostitution houses, taverns, the docks, etc. Tonight he was lucky though...Several streets down him heard a wailing cry. Pivoting on one foot the myrian made his way towards the screaming, sticking close to the alley walls and deep within the shadows. Now he was grinning. There was a high likelihood that he would be able to make some easy money off those terrifying yells.

Within minutes he was within view of the source of the noise. Watching from the other side of the alley, the gangster crouched low and hard, remaining the shadows. IT would be nearly impossible to see the myrian now, as he was cloaked in shadow silk and his face was painted. Drawing his weapon, he waited patiently for the opportune moment to present itself.

First, the screams halted. There was no noise at all now. Next, a man appeared cloaked in similar fashion to the warrior. Mok could not really make him out, but he was queerly snooping near the door of the place. What the hell was he doing? That man was either insane or he was part of some sort of scheme. Mok waited.

A minute later the noise of armor could be heard coming from the opposite direction, down the main street. Mok knew exactly what it was when he was the torches light up the street. Pale face armed with a variety of weapons appeared: vigilantes. "One, two, three, four, five," Mok counted. This didn't look good, but maybe the myrian could pick off a few of them and sell their weapons. He watched and waited as the so called "monster" appeared from the shack. It was a tall, pale man. He was lean, yet athletic and strong. His face was covered in dark blood and in his hand was the arm of a child. Now THIS was interesting. The man was definitely not from the Faylndar, Mok could tell. This was the first time he had seen a human cannibal. Being a flesh eater himself, Mok already liked this guy. The gangster was in the right place, at the right time and he would capitalize on the moment.

Eyeing the queer guy, Mok studied him too. Strangely the man looked familiar. Mok couldn’t place his thumb on it though. The man then spoke out loud to the vigilantes, claiming that they could not win the fight. The half-blood almost burst into laughter. Was he serious? The guy was a madman. Just looking at the man's disposition, Mok could tell he was out of his mind...

For now Mok sat and waited. He wouldn't be the first one to react.

Red = Myrian
Bold = Common

[Kale]

Kale took another bite from the fresh limb. The meat came away from the bone easily. Younger meat such as this was much more tender then its aged counterpart. He chewed the meat slowly, not caring about the crimson juices that rolled down his chin. In his time being a monster Kale had come to realize that, while each species tasted different, so too did the genders belonging to each of those species. Unfortunately, humans were not solitary creatures. They tended to not venture out alone, especially not females. Kale had come to view eating a female as somewhat of a treat. Consuming such a young female and her mother hand been a meal he would not soon forget. A soft voice cut through the darkness like a finely honed blade, causing the former gladiator to freeze in his tracks. His instincts told him to fight or at least flee. It was his years of training that kept him locked in place. His mind was so focused on finding the source of the voice that it took a few moments for the words to sink in. He had expected words in the form of a challenge or something else extremely hostile. It was then that he realized the words had been accompanied by the sound of clapping. Then the words made sense. He was not being challenged. He was being congratulated. Kale prided himself on his self-control when it came to anything but the hunger. Despite this, Kale found himself cocking his head sideways in confusion at the new arrival. Whoever it was revealed itself and began to move towards him in a disarming manner. Beneath the cowl of his cloak his eyes narrowed in suspicion. This made no sense. He had never before been applauded for such monstrous actions. It had to be a trap. What else could it be? Yet if it was a trap, why had the newcomer simply taken him by surprise? In that case, why reveal his self? Whoever this person was he was careful to keep his hands in plain view, clearly a way of showing Kale that he did not wish a physical confrontation. There was something off about the way the person moved. He couldn't quite put his finger on what it was though. Before he could figure out the puzzle he was presented with a name. Ray was the name this man was giving him. "Kale", he responded. The words came out thin, his voice cracking from lack of regular use. It had been days since he had taken a breath, and much longer since he had actually spoken. Noise of another nature halted the conversation before it could progress any further. The noise was a sound that was all too familiar. He had heard such a sound before. It was only moments before the two were confronted by a small group of angry Sunberthians. There were only a few of them now, but Kale did not doubt that that number would begin to swell as more people were drawn to the promise spilling another's blood. Anger filled Kale's long dried up veins with fire. His lips pulled back in a snarl. Why did humans always feel the need to stick their noses where it did not belong? The audacity of these humans was beginning to get to him. These foolish humans had no idea that they had just sealed their own fates. His eyes never left those of the human that had spoken. It seemed to feel safe with its fellows at its back. The humans seemed to be pulling courage from their leader's words. They did not so much as flinch when he took a step towards them. The humans had foolishly gotten too close to the monster. He moved closer but the humans still did not retreat. The obviously did not think he would try anything with so many of them before him. The moment he was in reach his arm snaked up. The movement was quick, much too quick for the human to evade. Kale's pale fingers wrapped around the man's neck with a vice like grip. The man opened his mouth in an attempt to get more oxygen into his restricted throat. He wasn't done with the obnoxious human. Kale brought the remains of the child's arm up to the man's mouth and forced it in. He continued to push the flesh further into the man's mouth even as he felt it enter the man's throat through his other hand. The human's face was turning violet as its air flow was completely cut off. That is when one of the man's fellows decided to try to intervene. The man rushed forward, burying a dagger in Kale's exposed ribs. The undead man grimaced at the pain the dagger caused but did not loosen his grip on the dying man. "You will have your turn. Be patient," he breathed venomously.