Daubeny Family/Elizabeth/Burning Mordok

Roleplay from Yxevarii Auru'in

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Deep in the Jedinchel mountains of Pomatim - where once the Overlord was defeated - now lies a ruined temple. Those who worship the callous death-god Mordok flee for their lives as their cult is burned from within. Screaming, Yxevarii pulls her blade from yet another Mordokian fool, the essence gushing from blasphemous throat. Another fool who thought to challenge a grizzled old royal priestess. "For those you burned alive, you too shall burn! For those you murdered, you shall suffer thrice! For all that which you have defiled, so too shall the seat of your cult lie sundered! DEATH TO THE DEVOURER OF SOULS!" Avenging flames scourge the very foundations of Geg's personal temple; from which he likely planned his countless magickal attacks against Ossmat in trying months-past. "Flee, blasphemers, and bring word to your murderous Elder! His crimes against Mankind shall not go unheeded! The stain you have wrought upon once-great Thalmarkin shall be cleansed!" Without pause, the retired Inquisitor backhand swings Porcupine into a towering effigy; shattering it with explosive power - electricity arcing between fragments that shotgun through cultist and structure alike. As the arc splits in every direction, tapestries and bits of wood spark alight clear across the hall. Her rage all but spent, Yxevarii intones, "You wrought your own doom... DEVOUR THIS, YOU UNHOLY MOTHERF-"

Yxevarii Auru'in

Roleplay from Vahanian Blint

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A Dance of Fire and Death: Vahanian had been hunting his quarry for the better part of a week, he'd barely spoken since his departure from Ossmat. His hazel eyes burned with the grim resolve of a man prepared to die. He'd seen Yxivearii enter the Mordok temple not long ago, he scouted the perimeter with his men before kicking in a back-entrance; torch in one hand, blade in the other. He strode through the halls of the unholy sanctuary, disgusted by its adornment and existence. Of those who remained within the Temple, Vahanian slaughtered all he encountered. He was like a scythe of the harvest as he cut his way through the temple, those who fell before him were merely stalks of grain buffeted by the winds of his fury. He dodged left, parried, and riposted as he stabbed his blade into the sternum of a Mordokian priest and drove him backwards, the man’s shoes scuffling against the stone while his whimpers and gasps echoed across the stone walls. Vahanian drove the man backwards, eventually, slamming him into a wall at the end of a corridor, withdrawing his blade, causing the dying man to gasp one final, pitiful, wheeze as he slumped to the ground. He looked to his left, blood spattered his face and torso, none of it was his own. His hazel eyes flickered with fury and bloodlust, and there in the main chamber, stood Yxivarii and Kethan. Vahanian was a fearsome sight to behold. He wore his armor of old, from his time fighting during the Daimon invasion. A mixture of boiled leather and woven mail. Light enough for him to move, but strong enough to blunt the strikes of most blades. During his rampage across Daimon infested Beluterra he had adorned his armor with trophies of his kills and victories. Some of that was fur woven into the pauldrons, some of that was skulls of creatures he’d slain adorning his shoulder and chest harness. He’d sharpened steel spikes and fastened them to his gauntlets and bracers. His hood was drawn. The old inquisitor stepped forward, coming between Vahanian and his prey, he said in a low, level tone. "Vahanian, don't do this." Vahanian said nothing, he just stared straight ahead at his quarry. He made to move past Kethan, Kethan placed a hand on Vahanian's shoulder saying "Please, my friend. She wouldn't want this." Vahanian turned his gaze on Kethan, a gaze that had wilted lesser men, a gaze filled with sorrow, fury, regret, pain, anger, and weariness. "Step aside." Vahanian said. His voice as cold as ice, as rough as gravel. Kethan stared into the eyes of his friend for a long time before he realized. He wasn't looking at Vahanian the duke, or Vahanian the general, or Vahanian the Templar. He was looking at the eerily battle calm Vahanian; a man that he'd seen all those years ago, just after Stheno's... disappearance. The fury, pain, anger, and resolve in Vahanian's eyes sent a shiver down Kethan's spine as he recalled a sparring match that ended as painfully as it had abruptly for him. Kethan took a deep sigh as he stepped aside, knowing there was nothing that could stop Vahanian now. Vahanian stepped forward and tossed his torch to the side, it bounced off the stone wall and fell onto some discarded drapery, the sparks caught and spread. Rapidly the flames swirled around the room and licked at the air around him and warmed his face. He took a deep breath in through his nose and slowly exhaled. He looked up at the sky through the broken windows and patchy roof, his hood fell back revealing his face as he whispered under his breath "Should you see fit, Dóse mou eiríni sto thánato.". He slammed his blade in between the stones on the floor, embedding it into the growing ash, dirt, and dust. He knelt and scooped a handful of ash, dirt, and dust into the palm of his hand. He breathed in the scent of the filth before letting it fall between his hands. He stood and clapped once to remove the excess and pulled his blade from the ground. The gaze that fell on Yxivarii was that of a man who'd become an artist in his craft. Vahanian's art was death, and he was about to paint his masterpiece.

Vahanian Blint

Roleplay from Yxevarii Auru'in

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A Dance of Fire and Death: The Die is Cast "Is that it then, Brother?! Am I but a tool of your deathwish? A stone to whet your suicidal blade upon?" Porcupine spirals with a flick of the wrist, while her mother's dagger twitches off-hand. "Pride blinds you; rage engulfs you - your blade speaks where sense is denied." Eyes fall upon Kethan, who pulls away from Vahanian. "Is he truly a lost cause?" As Vahanian kneels in prayer, Yxevarii sighs - bowing deep to her countrymen. She screams, "Is this to be Her legacy?"

Yxevarii Auru'in

Roleplay from Vahanian Blint

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A Dance of Fire and Death - pt. 2 The words Yxevarii threw at Vahanian were lost on him. He rolled his shoulders and settled into his stance as he readied himself. "You border on heresy claiming to know the legacy of the Goddess, but soon you shall have the chance to ask Her yourself." He could only hear the thumping of his heart beat as it sounded out the rhythm of battle. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and exhaled. A crackle of the spreading fire echoed through the chamber and Vahanian launched himself like a poised wolf striking at prey. He moved fast, much faster than one might think a man of his age could move. Yxevarii had seen Vahanian fight of course, they had fought alongside one another many times before, but fighting alongside someone and fighting against them were two entirely different experiences. His strikes were technically perfect, and filled with such power, Yxevarri did her best to block and parry. She fought defensively, fending off his flurry of strikes. Vahanian, a skilled swordsmen in his own right, used tricks of the blade and deft movements to overwhelm his opponent. The sounds of leather scuffling against stone, steel hitting steel, and the spreading flames cracking echoed through the chamber. Vahanian had the clear advantage, he was the better swordsmen and he'd chosen a style that dealt with defensive fighting quite well. Vahanian fought internally as well, he wrestled with the desire to let emotion rule him, to forgo technique or skill, and just batter Yxevarii into submission before killing her. His rage burned as hot as the flames and threatened to consume him all the same. After a few moments of the duel warring back and forth, Vahanian saw his opening. He dodged to the right, parrying her wild blow and stabbed her in the stomach, he knew he should retreat and regroup, let the loss of blood weaken her and slow her down, but he seized the moment instead. He kicked her knee out as he pulled his blade free, he turned and slashed down cutting her shoulder to opposite hip. Yxevarii threw her weight behind a strike at the same time, Vahanian felt his ribs cracking and his shoulder dislocating as her mace slammed into his side. It drove the air from his lungs and sent him hurtling into a beam. The weight of his body crashing into it, coupled with the weakened state of the beam from the fire, caused it to splinter and snap. Vahanian fell beneath a pile of burning timber and rubble while Yxevarii lay in a pool of her own blood, unconsciousness fast approaching them both. Vahanian gripped the hilt of his sword, and started to smile, he was at peace, he could see his family at last. Vahanian wasn't sure how long it had been, or that he was really alive yet, he could still smell smoke and blood, but he felt a dragging sensation. His senses faded once more and everything went black and quiet. A gentle voiced echoed all around and through Vahanian. "How many times, my mighty Templar?" "What?" Vahanian croaked "How many times, must you try to embrace me before your time?" "My oath is done." "Not yet, my mighty Templar, not yet." He felt a snapping sensation followed by a wave of pain as his cracked ribs were rapidly healed, his dislocated shoulder snapped itself back into place, and it felt like his blood pooled back inside his veins. He gasped for air through the pain, and the portal shards in his arm seared in response to magic. He rolled over and vomited before passing out again. When he awoke he heard a crackle of a fire and smelled roasting meat. He opened his eyes and was greeted to a small campsite, across the fire sat Kethan and Baldwin. Vahanian sat up and rubbed his face and eyes, clearing the weariness from them. "Welcome back." Kethan said. "Is she..?" Vahanian asked as he stood. Kethan shook his head "No, she lives, barely. She is gravely wounded. I left her with some healers." Vahanian grabbed his sword. "Vahanian, Don't." The command in Kethan's voice was powerful and absolute. It stunned Vahanian for a moment, and then served to stoke his fury even further. All of which was quenched like a torch thrown into the sea with Kethan's next words. "There is no honor in her death now. It would be murder, nothing more." Vahanian stopped. Yxevarii deserved death, she deserved his wrath and justice, but Kethan was right, she did not deserve dishonorable murder. He turned, returned to the fire and looked over at his friend as he said "I will kill her, Kethan." Kethan nodded as he returned to his seat. "I know, old friend, but this isn't the way. Let her recover, fight her with honor." Vahanian nodded his agreement.

Vahanian Blint

Roleplay from Mulki Laraak

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Of Shadows Cast [OOC: For those who aren't aware of her roots, Mulki's full name is roughshod Sumerian for, vaguely: the celestial body, once cleaved apart, whose bright glow shines from the heavens. She is the antithesis of Masalu; the Sumerian death cultist.] "Frand... Yxi, no! Please, wake up..." As she stood before the battered, bleeding husk of the noblewoman who in youth had saved her, a lifetime's worth of tears poured forth with ceaseless abandon. Decades of watching the suffering of Mankind breed violence and hate at every turn had finally begun to wear her down. Where the blissful naivete of untainted innocence once stood, a seed of bitterness had been sown. From the wellsprings of sorrow now bubbled a desire to make right countless wrongs. In the distance rose a phantom; as shadow crept across the burning hall. Silently, Mulki skittered opposite Yxevarii's body and into shadows herself. Blinking away tears, she felt a familiar lump of metal within a clenched fist: a Riombaran amulet that adorned Yxevarii's throat the first time they met. How many years had it been since she'd found Mulki languishing in a cage deep within the blight-stained catacombs of a daemon worshipper cult? How many lifetimes had come and gone since she'd risked her own life to come back for that quiet, stunted child who didn't know any better... How many nights had Yxevarii screamed at her torturers, invoking Goddess' to spite those vile beasts? How often had Mulki wished for death until that redhaired madwoman had broken free, slain them all, then carried Mulki to a quiet fishing village on the banks of the river Eno... Too many. Too. damn. many.

Mulki Laraak