Welcome world!! The Stromkirk family welcome to all the merchants of the wide worlds from beyond.
Officialy, we are the happy owner of the famous Krothus` Gate, an omenpath that is connected to Ixalan. Allowing for the picturesque crew of the Brazen Coalition to visit our beautifully cities and create strong partnership that will endure ages
I am Braras Stromkirk, the (un)oficial accoutant of the Stromkirk treasury and representing of the family to the world.
A whispered voice, familiar, distant, travels across the planes. It is happy, elated, even, as it speaks.
The time has come. The hour is at hand. Your vengeance shall be yours.
Come to me. Come, and take your fill. Tonight, we shall begin our reign.
He does know how to give an theatrical entrace, tought an lonely and bearded vagrant, who was on his way to the Vazante`s domains.
He alongside more refugees, were escapin from the ravenous hunger of the vampires. An widowed pair, were tending their wounds with the remaining bandages of the medical chariot. The rider eager her horsed to continue running whitout rest, as the nigth engulfed the world.
An familiar feeling. The despair, the fear of the prey. Running, running as mouses, towards our ratholes. Tought the lonely vagrant.
His eyes meet the eyes of an elderly men, an merchant perchance. He was holding tight, as his own soul, an pendant with names. Praying in whisper, for the safety of his family.
The vagrant sighed.
Why do you dare to unburrow such painfull memories, stranger?
Lisuarte continued to retreat, giving whistled commands to Hugo as he went. The dog snarled and charged and bit, but something was... off. The retired paladin didn't have time to investigate.
Cantaso needed to be defended, and he'd do his job as its lord to defend it.
As he saw Braras moving towards the estate, he quickly reached for the bunched chains at his hip, swinging his hammer at the impending tendrils of one thing and gaining some momentum with an overhead swing of a meteor hammer before he threw it right for the perceived neck of the great horror seeking to attack his home.
"Blessed Saint and all Venerables," he was muttering. "If I am to die here, let me-"
"BRARAS!" a voice bellowed. Lisuarte paused, distracted as he heard hoofbeats and, somehow, emerging from the shadowed darkness, silvered spear in one hand, came Arturo. One of the horrors capitalized on the opening the distraction had left, wrapping a tendril around one of his arms. The lord growled and did his best to fight it off, whistling for Hugo, but his hound was no longer listening.
The paladin pulls his arm back, throwing the moonsilver spear at the great beast, drawing out a blade sheathed at his hip and jumping from the saddle to follow the spear.
"Remember me, you bastard?" he shouted. "Hm? I'm the one you're after! Come and get me! But this time, I won't throw your corpse to the abyss, I'll make it a proper Vazante family heirloom!"
He points the ancestral katana at Braras.
"Remember this as the difference between my house and yours, you sniveling wretch," he spat. "We are warriors of courage and honor. Two words you have never known. Two words you will learn well the meaning of before your unmaking."
Braras stopped on his walk, as soon he heard the hated voice.
"You haven`t changed one bit. The same proud and self-righteous paladin." Braras meet Arturo. His golden armour was blemished by the turmoil of the war. The katana, distilling a clear power. One akin to the weapons blessed by geists.
"Gift from Koda?" He asked, without hate or love for the reckoner. An annoying hint of shame and guilt tried to weigh him down. The same kamigawan who offered help when Braras was nobody. The same kamigawan, who helped Ulappa many tim-- This wasn`t about thems!!
Another consciousness was revealed to him. A creature of four limbs. Now far away from senior Vazante. Could it be?
"Tell me, did you really leave your poor parent alone, or the rest of your family is present in your lands?" He smiled, with that cruelty of an eel.
A whispered voice, familiar, distant, travels across the planes. It is happy, elated, even, as it speaks.
The time has come. The hour is at hand. Your vengeance shall be yours.
Come to me. Come, and take your fill. Tonight, we shall begin our reign.
He does know how to give an theatrical entrace, tought an lonely and bearded vagrant, who was on his way to the Vazante`s domains.
He alongside more refugees, were escapin from the ravenous hunger of the vampires. An widowed pair, were tending their wounds with the remaining bandages of the medical chariot. The rider eager her horsed to continue running whitout rest, as the nigth engulfed the world.
An familiar feeling. The despair, the fear of the prey. Running, running as mouses, towards our ratholes. Tought the lonely vagrant.
His eyes meet the eyes of an elderly men, an merchant perchance. He was holding tight, as his own soul, an pendant with names. Praying in whisper, for the safety of his family.
The vagrant sighed.
Why do you dare to unburrow such painfull memories, stranger?
Lisuarte was armed and ready to face whatever the night brought. He kept his hammer in one hand, his other resting on the chain on his belt. All of the humans of Cantaso had been ordered to either remain in their homes or to flee to the more fortified cities ahead of the solstice. It felt... strange to see the village beneath the estate so empty. No laughter, no light.
But the retired Marshal was not alone. He was a Master of Hounds, after all, and so he did have a hound with him. Hugo was dressed in leather barding and fitted with a spiked collar, remaining steadfastly at his master's side.
All they could do was wait. The demons would find them sooner or later.
He looked back to the strange, small lens he had also kept on him. During Arturo's incredibly brief visit, he had asked his father to put it on his gauntlet. For protection, he said, and just in case he needed to shout for backup.
Lisuarte wondered if Arturo would get to him in time should he be required. He hadn't said much about where he was going.
But still, he was ready. As ready as he could be. He sent Hugo on to see if he could sniff out anything that might be hiding from them, finding the lack of anything a little unsettling. A scowl was on his face as he stalked through the village streets. Something felt wrong.
Hugo growled, at the next corner. The animal was smeling ; an lack of the familiar smells, the sweats of the farmers, the burning wood`s crisp, the sent of the clothes. Nothing.
Even, with the improverished man, of uncared beard and partched clothes. Hugo smell nothing.
Milked eyes, meet Lisuartes gaze. "Excuse me, but do you know where the Vazante`s home is found? I have an urgent message to share." Spoke the poor man.
Lisuarte hushed Hugo, looking at the strange man. He must've been blind from the eyes.
"I am Lord Vazante. What message do you have for me?" he asked. "Are you being sent from Alta Torrezon? You look hardly like a conventional messenger to me."
Something was wrong. He gripped his hammer, brows knitted, dark eyes narrowed. He had the lens if Arturo needed him. Could the demons take on the forms of humans? Perhaps. It was said that some had hallucinated visions of the dead thanks to his influence. But this man was unrecognizable to him.
"Vazante? Arturo?" The starnger smiled widely, as the milked eyes obtained livid colour of green.
He stood up. " Do you remember my last advice? That you shouldn`t provoke the fragile politics of the dynasties? That you would make an dangerous enemy?" He rambled, in a maddened tone. From within the house, sounds platters and woods breaking can be heard.
"I warned you Arturo. Today, I shall pay, in kind, of your visit" Concluded the stranger, as his illusion burned away, revealing an foreign vampire, of long hair and maddened eyes.
Soon, the walls of the nearby house gave away.
An mass of flesh and screams, fell upon the lord Vazante and his animals, as the vampire stood aside. He desired to witness his dead.
Lisuarte's face became a deep scowl. "You have me mistaken. Arturo is my son, what do-"
He stopped as he noticed the deep, unnatural change in his surroundings. Every part of him screamed to run and flee, but his discipline as a man of war won out. He knew he would have to stay and fight, but...
Saint and Venerables above and below, what was he even looking at?
His jaw worked and he quickly fumbled for the lens he had been given, speaking into it and doing his best to keep the fear from his voice.
"Arturo!"
A pause. The Lord Vazante readied his hammer, ready to swing as tendrils and madness descended on him.
"Father?"
"Beast in Cantaso!" He swung his warhammer in an arc, the familiarity of the motion helping to combat the madness and fear threatening to overwhelm him. "I can't fight it alone!"
"What kind of-"
"You befouled thing! Back!" he shouted, retreating a half-step and giving a whistled command to Hugo. "It has tentacles and claws, boy. It is too much for me to handle alone. I need you!"
There was another pause. Lisuarte kept retreating, kept swinging, kept doing what he could to buy time.
"Braras... I'm coming, father, hold on!"
---
Miles away, Arturo Vazante breaks away from the escort to Alta Torrezon. The mist surrounding the feet of the horses soon begins to ebb and fade the longer he breaks from them. Exhaustion drags at him. He fears that if he pauses, he might drop dead from it alone.
But he cannot pause. He cannot stop. Braras is back, and he's come for his father. He made this far too personal now.
He snarls as he feels his anger building. He should've stayed dead. He would've done everyone a greater favor that way. But now he will correct the error he and his son had made.
This time, this beast would be killed, and he would be protecting those trophies.
The legs of the steed went from only the hooves being surrounded to the entirety of its legs, and then --
Horse and rider vanished into the night. It was an act that was seen as borderline suicidal and insane, but perhaps that was how the paladin was feeling considering he was running headlong into battle with an Eldrazi from a distant plane.
He navigates through the infinite blackness this night has caused, guided only by memories and instinct. It was all to easy to get lost in a place such as this. Too easy to hear one whisper to drag you astray.
He wouldn't. Not when his family was threatened.
I'm coming, father. Hold on. I'll be there in minutes, if that. I'll tear my soul apart to be there.
But he was no stranger to warfare and battles. Some of them could be decided in less.
Braras stood still. This Vazante, was too carefull, pragmatical, even cowardly. Seing how the paladin retreated far away from his horror.
"It seem.. . . Indeed I have mistook you. Oh well. I am afraid that you will have to pay, for the crime of sharing his house name, Vazante" Concluded Braras, as he went towards the mansion.
"One destroyed inheritance for another, that is part of the prize that I will take Sir Vazante. I expect than Arturo is at least present inside alongside his thralls" Continued monologuing, Braras transmitted an order to three more horrors, as they broke outside their hiding spots. They would hear to the vampire and the dog.
"I would have expected, to have an welcome of an full army tought. . ."
Any of your representant would be acceptable. Tought, we need an brief description of their appearance and name. I wouldn`t want my falkenarth accuaintances, to accidentally hurt your people.
And I advise to be more carefull around wich words you share with the Voldarens. . . .
I lament the lost of your progenitor.
...Thank you for your sympathies, kind friend.
We will be in touch again once the task is assigned, but I wouldn't worry yourself too much about my agents' safety. My team is very capable of defending themselves, should the need arise.
A whispered voice, familiar, distant, travels across the planes. It is happy, elated, even, as it speaks.
The time has come. The hour is at hand. Your vengeance shall be yours.
Come to me. Come, and take your fill. Tonight, we shall begin our reign.
He does know how to give an theatrical entrace, tought an lonely and bearded vagrant, who was on his way to the Vazante`s domains.
He alongside more refugees, were escapin from the ravenous hunger of the vampires. An widowed pair, were tending their wounds with the remaining bandages of the medical chariot. The rider eager her horsed to continue running whitout rest, as the nigth engulfed the world.
An familiar feeling. The despair, the fear of the prey. Running, running as mouses, towards our ratholes. Tought the lonely vagrant.
His eyes meet the eyes of an elderly men, an merchant perchance. He was holding tight, as his own soul, an pendant with names. Praying in whisper, for the safety of his family.
The vagrant sighed.
Why do you dare to unburrow such painfull memories, stranger?
Lisuarte was armed and ready to face whatever the night brought. He kept his hammer in one hand, his other resting on the chain on his belt. All of the humans of Cantaso had been ordered to either remain in their homes or to flee to the more fortified cities ahead of the solstice. It felt... strange to see the village beneath the estate so empty. No laughter, no light.
But the retired Marshal was not alone. He was a Master of Hounds, after all, and so he did have a hound with him. Hugo was dressed in leather barding and fitted with a spiked collar, remaining steadfastly at his master's side.
All they could do was wait. The demons would find them sooner or later.
He looked back to the strange, small lens he had also kept on him. During Arturo's incredibly brief visit, he had asked his father to put it on his gauntlet. For protection, he said, and just in case he needed to shout for backup.
Lisuarte wondered if Arturo would get to him in time should he be required. He hadn't said much about where he was going.
But still, he was ready. As ready as he could be. He sent Hugo on to see if he could sniff out anything that might be hiding from them, finding the lack of anything a little unsettling. A scowl was on his face as he stalked through the village streets. Something felt wrong.
Hugo growled, at the next corner. The animal was smeling ; an lack of the familiar smells, the sweats of the farmers, the burning wood`s crisp, the sent of the clothes. Nothing.
Even, with the improverished man, of uncared beard and partched clothes. Hugo smell nothing.
Milked eyes, meet Lisuartes gaze. "Excuse me, but do you know where the Vazante`s home is found? I have an urgent message to share." Spoke the poor man.
Lisuarte hushed Hugo, looking at the strange man. He must've been blind from the eyes.
"I am Lord Vazante. What message do you have for me?" he asked. "Are you being sent from Alta Torrezon? You look hardly like a conventional messenger to me."
Something was wrong. He gripped his hammer, brows knitted, dark eyes narrowed. He had the lens if Arturo needed him. Could the demons take on the forms of humans? Perhaps. It was said that some had hallucinated visions of the dead thanks to his influence. But this man was unrecognizable to him.
"Vazante? Arturo?" The starnger smiled widely, as the milked eyes obtained livid colour of green.
He stood up. " Do you remember my last advice? That you shouldn`t provoke the fragile politics of the dynasties? That you would make an dangerous enemy?" He rambled, in a maddened tone. From within the house, sounds platters and woods breaking can be heard.
"I warned you Arturo. Today, I shall pay, in kind, of your visit" Concluded the stranger, as his illusion burned away, revealing an foreign vampire, of long hair and maddened eyes.
Soon, the walls of the nearby house gave away.
An mass of flesh and screams, fell upon the lord Vazante and his animals, as the vampire stood aside. He desired to witness his dead.
Report on Current Extraplanar Outposts of the Maestro Family
MEMO: For Approved Eyes Only
FOREWARD:
All but one of the outposts in this report have been fully established within the last year by our family's ambassador. Each operational outpost is semi-independent and self-sustaining, focused on blending in with the plane on which it exists and avoiding unwanted attention from locals.
Each operational outpost is currently staffed by a mix of tenured family members and lower-ranking agents, numbering around 15 per team at time of report. At least two agents on each team are capable of contacting the family across planar boundaries in case of emergency. Ambassador has set up private instant-communication networks with each outpost as well, and is on standby to help defend them at a moment's notice.
The goals of these outposts are as follows:
1) To establish and maintain working relations with powerful groups native to the planes they are stationed on.
2) To keep tabs on the activity of any other Capennan interests working in the area, officially or unofficially.
3) To gather and catalogue the histories of other planes relating to the first Phyrexian invasion, with all such findings sent back to the family on New Capenna for further study.
The contents of this report were written by the ambassador themself, and have been read and approved by both myself and the lady Parnesse. I place my full trust in our ambassador and their capabilities, as well as all members of the teams they have assembled.
Here signed,
Lady Errant of the Maestros, First of Her Name
THUNDER JUNCTION
OVERVIEW: The first of the outposts to be established, due to easy transportation via omenpath and relative ease of maintaining anonymity. Nobody asks too many questions there, and many Capennans on the team find it easy to adapt to life in this lawless desert, once they get used to the sand and the heat. Many of the newer recruits in my employ are stationed here, as I believe it provides a good baseline experience for their work going forward.
LOCATION: A small homestead to the west of Omenport. All groups coming and going are under strict orders to magically remove their own tracks from the sand, to reduce the risk of anyone being followed. Attached farm is mostly maintained by constructs, with help from volunteers within the ranks of the team. I don't understand the appeal myself, but I've heard some agents say they find it improves morale, so I'm inclined to allow it. Food production levels are a far cry from Capenna's factories, but it's sufficient enough to provide for all mortal members of staff with minimal external supply runs needed.
STATUS: We have successfully established connections with the Sterling Company, and though allying with the group is proving to be a slow process, negotiations seem to be going smoothly. Thunder Junction's status as semi-neutral ground also allows for us to conduct meetings there that might be too dangerous to host on other planes.
- - -
INNISTRAD
OVERVIEW: The easiest outpost to establish, so far. House Voldaren was all too kind in welcoming us into their court, though I suspect the lady Olivia might simply be eager to introduce new pieces to her game. I have elected to only assign vampiric agents to this team, as I'm sure any mortals would have targets painted on their backs at all times in a place like this.
LOCATION: A castle in the Stensia region, loaned to us by the Voldaren family. Described by them as "modest", but the interior is as large and sprawling as two apartment blocks welded together. Blending in is fairly easy, as most locals already know to keep their heads down around vampires. When feeding, agents have been instructed to only kill when necessary, as increased body counts could quickly lead to backlash from nearby villages.
STATUS: Negotiations with the Voldaren family have been going well. We've exchanged much information about our planes' histories, and the subtle differences between the gifts of our bloodlines. The intricacies of courtly politics are still a bit alien to me, but there are enough similarities to Capennan family politics that I trust we'll be able to manage in the long term. As an aside, due to certain conflicts of interest, we will not be seeking alliances of any kind with the Stromkirk family.
- - -
RAVNICA
OVERVIEW: A puzzle of a plane to establish connections with, but a worthwhile one. Due to complications relating to local guild politics, we've had to lay low and scatter our forces - our family is not included under the protections of the Guildpact, and therefore has no recourse if the Azorius or any other guild discovers our operations and decides to chase us out. Therefore, our work there has been conducted with the highest degree of caution that we can manage.
LOCATION: Team is currently split between multiple different safehouses, which are all owned by either the Rakdos or Dimir guilds. Both groups have been vitally important to our operations on the plane, their agents helping ours learn to navigate the city, both physically and socially.
STATUS: So far, we have formed alliances with two of the ten guilds on the plane, both of which share many goals and ideals with the family. We are in good standing with both Rakdosi and Dimiri leadership, and plan on opening negotiations with the Orzhov guild in the near future as well.
- - -
KAMIGAWA
OVERVIEW: Establishment of this outpost is still in the planning stages, but I have reason to believe it will soon become an important focal point for our study of extraplanar histories. Due to a fortunate twist of fate, we have come into contact with a group known as the Living Historians, and they have agreed to help us restore some of the knowledge we lost during the Invasion of New Phyrexia.
LOCATION: Agents will be stationed within libraries operated by the Living Historians, living and working amongst them under the code of neutrality that the group enforces. I will be selecting a group of scholars, artists, and historians for this team, to attempt to minimize the amount of trouble we might cause while under their protection.
STATUS: Despite no physical outpost as of yet, our alliance with the Living Historians already rivals the strength of the others. Restoration work is already well underway, focusing mostly on writings and artifacts recovered from the wreckage of the Museum of Old Capenna. The group has also agreed to allow us access to their own vast stores of knowledge, which I hope might help us finally piece together the true story of the First Phyrexian Invasion.
A whispered voice, familiar, distant, travels across the planes. It is happy, elated, even, as it speaks.
The time has come. The hour is at hand. Your vengeance shall be yours.
Come to me. Come, and take your fill. Tonight, we shall begin our reign.
He does know how to give an theatrical entrace, tought an lonely and bearded vagrant, who was on his way to the Vazante`s domains.
He alongside more refugees, were escapin from the ravenous hunger of the vampires. An widowed pair, were tending their wounds with the remaining bandages of the medical chariot. The rider eager her horsed to continue running whitout rest, as the nigth engulfed the world.
An familiar feeling. The despair, the fear of the prey. Running, running as mouses, towards our ratholes. Tought the lonely vagrant.
His eyes meet the eyes of an elderly men, an merchant perchance. He was holding tight, as his own soul, an pendant with names. Praying in whisper, for the safety of his family.
The vagrant sighed.
Why do you dare to unburrow such painfull memories, stranger?
Lisuarte was armed and ready to face whatever the night brought. He kept his hammer in one hand, his other resting on the chain on his belt. All of the humans of Cantaso had been ordered to either remain in their homes or to flee to the more fortified cities ahead of the solstice. It felt... strange to see the village beneath the estate so empty. No laughter, no light.
But the retired Marshal was not alone. He was a Master of Hounds, after all, and so he did have a hound with him. Hugo was dressed in leather barding and fitted with a spiked collar, remaining steadfastly at his master's side.
All they could do was wait. The demons would find them sooner or later.
He looked back to the strange, small lens he had also kept on him. During Arturo's incredibly brief visit, he had asked his father to put it on his gauntlet. For protection, he said, and just in case he needed to shout for backup.
Lisuarte wondered if Arturo would get to him in time should he be required. He hadn't said much about where he was going.
But still, he was ready. As ready as he could be. He sent Hugo on to see if he could sniff out anything that might be hiding from them, finding the lack of anything a little unsettling. A scowl was on his face as he stalked through the village streets. Something felt wrong.
Hugo growled, at the next corner. The animal was smeling ; an lack of the familiar smells, the sweats of the farmers, the burning wood`s crisp, the sent of the clothes. Nothing.
Even, with the improverished man, of uncared beard and partched clothes. Hugo smell nothing.
Milked eyes, meet Lisuartes gaze. "Excuse me, but do you know where the Vazante`s home is found? I have an urgent message to share." Spoke the poor man.
A whispered voice, familiar, distant, travels across the planes. It is happy, elated, even, as it speaks.
The time has come. The hour is at hand. Your vengeance shall be yours.
Come to me. Come, and take your fill. Tonight, we shall begin our reign.
He does know how to give an theatrical entrace, tought an lonely and bearded vagrant, who was on his way to the Vazante`s domains.
He alongside more refugees, were escapin from the ravenous hunger of the vampires. An widowed pair, were tending their wounds with the remaining bandages of the medical chariot. The rider eager her horsed to continue running whitout rest, as the nigth engulfed the world.
An familiar feeling. The despair, the fear of the prey. Running, running as mouses, towards our ratholes. Tought the lonely vagrant.
His eyes meet the eyes of an elderly men, an merchant perchance. He was holding tight, as his own soul, an pendant with names. Praying in whisper, for the safety of his family.
The vagrant sighed.
Why do you dare to unburrow such painfull memories, stranger?
beloved Nephalian. I , the voice of the Stromkirk, announce that you have our permission to perdón the animistic ritual to your survival.
Be proud, you survived another year. And your exit Is our sucess.
Tought , if anyone is willing to surrender their donations to the forces of the abyss, consult any of your local Stromkirk representative or ship captains. Enjoy your party!!
There was a commonality that allowed for a whispered voice to reach out to a shattered remnant of a man. A scion hunted by another of a different plane, slain like a beast, and boasted about like a prized trophy. There was a madness, something else's siren song, reaching outward into the mind of another on a different plane entirely. But something quickly realized that this could be utilized both ways.
And so, reach it did, across stars and depthless black. A whisper that spoke with three voices, in three reflections of the soul. For it was his own voice -- their own voice -- echoing back to them, asking them what it was they were chasing, what it was they longed for the most. What was keeping them going? Their great and glorious pursuit?
Enguillert?
Within the halls of the mind palace, an Braras with the colours of the livings and humbler clothes, was checking among the destroyed cards, books and documents of the libraries. An mess of his years as livings, the huge gasp of the decades as Stromkirk, many consumned by the Mother. He was dusting off one of the newest memories, one of happyness and who bringed calm to the palace, placing it among the stands titled as "Ulappa".
The fellow vampire, was a smart woman, she would find the cure to this madness eventually. He desired, to return back to normalcy. His normalcy. No longer hunting as a animals, buying an land among the myriads of planes, created an new name, to lived as. . . as. . .
. . . .
Stromkirk?
Spite, resentment, anger. For many years, he survived among the games of his elders. He had finally found the freedom from his scion, trought years of deceits and politing. For thousand times, he had escaped from the scythe of dead, both from the angels and from his family. He brought back the soverignity of his house.
Only for all to be taken away by meddling intruders!!! Vasro, an meddlesome squid, who declared as his goal to ruin his life. Hummiliating him among his peers, attempting to murder him in the safety of his own home.
An Arturo!!! He could have made his visit bearable for the both. If he lowered his head, if he pleaded forgivness for the murder. But no, no! To him, his cause was noble. To him, he was a monster to be slain, an demon!!
Stromkirk imperative pursuit, was the "fair" exchange from those two evildoers; the destruction of their lifes!!.
.. . . . . .
The third, was sleep, for now unconcious. Deep in the waters of the mind, aimlessly swimming. It perceived no threat on the plane and it`s nest at the moment.
This intruding voice? It wasn`t from the mother, thus, insingnificat to it.
The god's smile widened, accompanied by the sound of dry flesh being peeled away.
So long as you remain subservient and remember who your betters are, I shall make you my vassal of Innistrad when the time comes. Ixalan shall fall soon. Their time is running out. All it will take is one singular night before all of my children will rest beneath my wings, willing or unwilling.
The bones rattled softly as he moved again.
I shall have you meet my Champion once all has been settled. She will help you conquer your homelands. I have given her my blessings and she has used them wonderfully. I shall remain to ensure my own domain is settled.
Stromkirk gritted his teeth. Subservient to his better, of course he will. Whether is Aclazotz or the mother, he will witness it.
All is settled then, I will answer when you call me. I will grow my thralls, to serve in your army. Stromkirk scratched his chin. I do advise, that you came with the same promises with the progenitors. Torrezon did such a good job in earning their ennemity. They don`t need to know of our deals after all.
Good. Prepare for the Darkest Night. I shall ensure that the sun does not rise again. Chimil's light will be extinguished once I have my children in their rightful place. That malevolent grin did not falter or disappear.
I will seek them once all is settled. I know better than to spread my wings too far, too fast. My success is all but guaranteed. The Church is failing. There are more of my faithful than there are of theirs. I will call for you when the time is nigh.
And with that, the god disappeared with the sound of massive wings spreading, lifting, then flying away.
There was a commonality that allowed for a whispered voice to reach out to a shattered remnant of a man. A scion hunted by another of a different plane, slain like a beast, and boasted about like a prized trophy. There was a madness, something else's siren song, reaching outward into the mind of another on a different plane entirely. But something quickly realized that this could be utilized both ways.
And so, reach it did, across stars and depthless black. A whisper that spoke with three voices, in three reflections of the soul. For it was his own voice -- their own voice -- echoing back to them, asking them what it was they were chasing, what it was they longed for the most. What was keeping them going? Their great and glorious pursuit?
Enguillert?
Within the halls of the mind palace, an Braras with the colours of the livings and humbler clothes, was checking among the destroyed cards, books and documents of the libraries. An mess of his years as livings, the huge gasp of the decades as Stromkirk, many consumned by the Mother. He was dusting off one of the newest memories, one of happyness and who bringed calm to the palace, placing it among the stands titled as "Ulappa".
The fellow vampire, was a smart woman, she would find the cure to this madness eventually. He desired, to return back to normalcy. His normalcy. No longer hunting as a animals, buying an land among the myriads of planes, created an new name, to lived as. . . as. . .
. . . .
Stromkirk?
Spite, resentment, anger. For many years, he survived among the games of his elders. He had finally found the freedom from his scion, trought years of deceits and politing. For thousand times, he had escaped from the scythe of dead, both from the angels and from his family. He brought back the soverignity of his house.
Only for all to be taken away by meddling intruders!!! Vasro, an meddlesome squid, who declared as his goal to ruin his life. Hummiliating him among his peers, attempting to murder him in the safety of his own home.
An Arturo!!! He could have made his visit bearable for the both. If he lowered his head, if he pleaded forgivness for the murder. But no, no! To him, his cause was noble. To him, he was a monster to be slain, an demon!!
Stromkirk imperative pursuit, was the "fair" exchange from those two evildoers; the destruction of their lifes!!.
.. . . . . .
The third, was sleep, for now unconcious. Deep in the waters of the mind, aimlessly swimming. It perceived no threat on the plane and it`s nest at the moment.
This intruding voice? It wasn`t from the mother, thus, insingnificat to it.
The god's smile widened, accompanied by the sound of dry flesh being peeled away.
So long as you remain subservient and remember who your betters are, I shall make you my vassal of Innistrad when the time comes. Ixalan shall fall soon. Their time is running out. All it will take is one singular night before all of my children will rest beneath my wings, willing or unwilling.
The bones rattled softly as he moved again.
I shall have you meet my Champion once all has been settled. She will help you conquer your homelands. I have given her my blessings and she has used them wonderfully. I shall remain to ensure my own domain is settled.
Stromkirk gritted his teeth. Subservient to his better, of course he will. Whether is Aclazotz or the mother, he will witness it.
All is settled then, I will answer when you call me. I will grow my thralls, to serve in your army. Stromkirk scratched his chin. I do advise, that you came with the same promises with the progenitors. Torrezon did such a good job in earning their ennemity. They don`t need to know of our deals after all.
There was a commonality that allowed for a whispered voice to reach out to a shattered remnant of a man. A scion hunted by another of a different plane, slain like a beast, and boasted about like a prized trophy. There was a madness, something else's siren song, reaching outward into the mind of another on a different plane entirely. But something quickly realized that this could be utilized both ways.
And so, reach it did, across stars and depthless black. A whisper that spoke with three voices, in three reflections of the soul. For it was his own voice -- their own voice -- echoing back to them, asking them what it was they were chasing, what it was they longed for the most. What was keeping them going? Their great and glorious pursuit?
Enguillert?
Within the halls of the mind palace, an Braras with the colours of the livings and humbler clothes, was checking among the destroyed cards, books and documents of the libraries. An mess of his years as livings, the huge gasp of the decades as Stromkirk, many consumned by the Mother. He was dusting off one of the newest memories, one of happyness and who bringed calm to the palace, placing it among the stands titled as "Ulappa".
The fellow vampire, was a smart woman, she would find the cure to this madness eventually. He desired, to return back to normalcy. His normalcy. No longer hunting as a animals, buying an land among the myriads of planes, created an new name, to lived as. . . as. . .
. . . .
Stromkirk?
Spite, resentment, anger. For many years, he survived among the games of his elders. He had finally found the freedom from his scion, trought years of deceits and politing. For thousand times, he had escaped from the scythe of dead, both from the angels and from his family. He brought back the soverignity of his house.
Only for all to be taken away by meddling intruders!!! Vasro, an meddlesome squid, who declared as his goal to ruin his life. Hummiliating him among his peers, attempting to murder him in the safety of his own home.
An Arturo!!! He could have made his visit bearable for the both. If he lowered his head, if he pleaded forgivness for the murder. But no, no! To him, his cause was noble. To him, he was a monster to be slain, an demon!!
Stromkirk imperative pursuit, was the "fair" exchange from those two evildoers; the destruction of their lifes!!.
.. . . . . .
The third, was sleep, for now unconcious. Deep in the waters of the mind, aimlessly swimming. It perceived no threat on the plane and it`s nest at the moment.
This intruding voice? It wasn`t from the mother, thus, insingnificat to it.
I only bring pain to those who reject me. Those among my children who accept me find exultation, not pain. They are happier. They are unbound and unbowed before the false tenets of my most wayward daughter and her deceitful preaching. To those beneath my wings, I do not bring pain. I bring freedom. Absolution. Greatness. All they have denied themselves.
The rustling grows louder. A subtle red glow is cast about everything. There is another dry laugh.
You do not remember well your faith. That display will not avail you. For I am not a demon. I myself am forged from the divine.
But I come bearing an offer. Consider it a gift. You seek vengeance upon one of my children. I know well the importance and necessity of sacrifice. I will give him to you. I will allow you to bring him to ruin. All I ask for in exchange is that you focus upon him. In his ruination shall I be able to continue my work, and shall my children be finally brought to rest beneath me.
Freedom, repeated Stromkirk. The flags of those legionare, was their soldiers invaded his mansion. Their false tenets, the very same, wich lead to my dead. Wich deemed me, an criminal, trought Stromkirk. Indeed, the god was speaking facts. Torrezon seeked to subjugate all the vampires, under the yokes of thier suffocating rules. Would be wrong to believe, that his most ferven oponent, would be his ally?
Enguillert cowered to the words taunts. Indeed, his memory of his human's years, were the weakest, alongside those of his faith. Yet, he couldn`t surrender now. It wasa evident to the most sensate part of the three, that Stromkirk was going to accept the deal. The human, needed to dissuade him from that horrible mistake.
He is literally, promising his own child to you Stromkirk, an complete stranger. If he , who claim to be their father, easyli discard their lifes as such, or can we guarantee our survival under his guidance. Doesn`t this, ring any ill memories to you, Stromkirk? He took the opportunity, snatching up one of chained books, wich distilled of seaweed and bilis.
Stromkirk wrinkled at the book, yet he couldn`t deny it. All these useless parables, were disturbingly familiar.
Very well Aclazotz, he announced, if you aim for my fealty, then answer me. Why you are seeking me, what made me more worthy of life, than your own child? The god, yet could smell the interest of this will. The poor child, was trained to distrust any promises of frienship, to seek any double meaning behind any compliment. Such, was the damague of the Stromkirk to their own child. Would the god, be kinder to him?
Because, as I said, I know the importance of sacrifice. As do you.
The sound of lips being peeled back into a smile. The crackling of dried bone.
His downfall will bring others into my fold. It will allow for the veil and shackles their false faith has wrought and bound them in to fade. It will deliver unto me greater prizes, and it will mean that I can spread my wings further and wider. That I may find other kindred souls who are being bound by such trivial mortal frailties, that must be uplifted.
If the god hoped, to finally enthrall the demented mind, then it seem that it had long ignored the other needs of the vampires, beyond plain freedom.
There was now fear, from both wills. From Enguillert, cause it was clear as water what the Shackled one desired. To purge the humanity of Braras, his demise.
For Stormkirk. . .
You want to. . . You dare. . . You dare to make from us, plain animals? Sallivating dogs, too busy licking our own rears, as we bark at each other, for the latest morself of the humans? An nervous laugh, emergued from the vampire. Oh sir, you must consider me an fool, and ignorant buffon. But I know, I know what an vampire free of shackles, becomes into.
Your world, the one wich you promises, is nothing else, but another cruel forest, in wich the strong will devour the weak. One world, wich we could die once again. Fear and cowardice, now distilled from this will. An fearfull dog, too accustomed to be punished, when he bit the hand on his leash. He lost the bites and teeths, that were the divine right of his kind.
Is that not the way of things? The strong are meant to rule the weak. The weak serve the strong. Such is life. Such is death. All of my children rejoice and feel exulted by the gifts I have given them.
Cold. Bitter, freezing. The cold of the grave. Anger. More rattling of long-dried bones, the snapping of dried flesh.
My children are more than animals. They are conquerors. Rulers. The true rulers over the mewling mortal masses. They are mighty, not bound by the frailties of those who are meant to sustain them. They are powerful. Strong. They understand what this gift is meant for.
I offer you power. Vengeance. Justice for how you had been wronged. A place within a people that would not balk, a chance to be mighty and your own again.
An place to be my own and mighty. . . Repeated Stromkirk, dreamlingly. Even with Enguillert effort, to attain humanity, the natural wishes of the vampire for power and control, were strongers.
At least, the beast was still sleeping.
You can guarantee, that I will not face dead? Challenges, hostilities and betrayal from your loyal childrens? Asked Stromkirk, sallivating at those promises, ignorant of the god anger.
No, no, no! We can`t accept such horrible proposition, what would Ullapa even think of us? Even more, once we reveal our hostile intent, Vasro Menacari will ruin us once again!! Warned Enguillert, more desperate, fearing what will they lost, once again.
A laugh, like dry branches caught in the wind. I guarantee you only that you may have your vengeance. I do not guarantee such things for my own children. The strong rule, Stromkirk. I will extend a wing to you and give you opportunity and strength. What you do with it afterwards is for your own doing. I doubt you will face many challenges once you have proven yourself mighty.
A glint of fangs, overlong and sharp. Do not listen to the braying of your sheep. You transcended such mortal frailties ages ago. Why should the opinion of one stop you from getting what you so rightfully deserve?
and continue this ridicoucicle of self-destruction. Stromkirk, I know how you enjoyed those luxuries of your life, but they were always dirtied with blood. Think what will you lost, everything that you had bately built, think of father, remember of S....... The parasistic will continued bambling.
The nonsensical bellows of the sheep. How did he returned in the first place? As a desperate attempt, to keep their sanity. But hand't abuses his time, Enguillert? He was provee with straight stonesz that his life was gone. Their past life. Why was Stromkirk, allowing him to remain here? To continue pecking his ears, as if they were equals.
"The strong rule", it wasn't a saying, but reality. He became stronger, beyong his brethrens. Why should he hide? Why should he cower? At imaginary threats?
You stay, have expired, Enguillert.
............
Enguillert was silenced. By an small peeking of Mother. That should keep him quiet.
Aclazotz. . . . . I became an being, major to your childrens. I shall claim, what Is rightfully mine. In exchange of mine service I expect an contract. . . . Stromkirk took a time to reflect once again. What would be the closest goal, that would give him satisfaction.
Once you fangs bleed into Innistrad, I will execute Runo Stromkirk, Olivia Voldaren and Edgar Markove. I will claim the plane, as my serf. Agree?
