Mere weeks into his servitude of Dennac, Vitellus had explored the gifts the black, unholy tome held thoroughly. There was merely one incantation still untested. The virulent breath of the dark lord could be unleashed by the faithful. He shivered, hands trembling slightly as he held the tome and memorized the power words. The great demons watched from the dark corners of the temple, massive suggestive shapes with blood-red hides and glowing eyes. The tension was thick in the air. Perhaps the dark lord himself watched over him. Perhaps this was a test to determine the true stength of his devotion. Vitellus' mercenary ways would not be enough for the Cult of Tekstone. He must lose himself in the tenets of faith.
The runic language itself seemed prophetic, the promise of doom suggested in every symbol. Divine will carried him away across the lands, to the mountain plateau outside Despise. Well there, watching the herds of undomesticated sheep move purposelessly back and forth across the lush plain, he hesitated. Although Vitellus had never been a particularly good man, the wanton destruction of life, the birth of abominations, had not been within the limits of his will or capacity. He watched the animals for a time, fingers nervously drumming on the cover of the black tome. Strong memories passed before his inner vision, and as they did, they became more and more infected by hate. The betrayal was too great. No price was too high for vengance. And so, he wielded Dennac's power to the fullest, ultimate extent. He spoke the long inctantation.
Insects and flies died instantly as the nauseous cloud covered the ground around him as far as he could see. The sheep paniced, stumbled, charged at each other furiously or simply lost control over their limbs, collapsing in pathetic heaps of wool and flesh. Eventually they all perished, and for one perfect moment, all was still. This is vengance, Vitellus thought, a cruel smirk on his face. Then the world exploded in toxic green around him. Repulsive, soulless beasts burst forth from the diseased carcasses. He watched their twisted, unnatural life begin before he took his leave. It was the first summoning of the plague. Many more would come, spreading the taint across the lands of Britain and even the city of Luna, his old home. All bonds that separated Alus Vitellus from an entirely cynical instrument of destruction had been ripped to pieces.
The Plague
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Re: The Plague
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Re: The Plague
Days later, a new quest fell upon Vitellus. He rode north, towards the lair of an ancient and hated race of creatures, the vampires. Their origin was a mystery. Vitellus would endevour to search the scriptures at a later time. At this time, his priority was different. Upon arriving at the entrance of the fortified dungeon where they made their home, he called upon the power of his deity. The prayer was answered in the form of a shadowy web, floating in twisted patterns across the surface of his silvery weapon, giving it an odd resemblance to marble. It was very different from the powerful radiance of Esuna, but much more suited to his newfound faith. Spurring his nightmarish steed, a being of Dennac's will, he charged into the vampiric horde, shattering their resistance quickly.
Instead of entering the lair as a conqueror, he paused. His new master demanded guile where his old ways dictated brute, terrifying force. After a time of silent contemplation, noting the moans of starvation from within the dungeon fortress with indifference, an idea came to him. He would convert the rebellious undead into loyal servants of Dennac. Reading aloud from his tome he summoned a wraith from the black gulf beyond. Vitellus carefully instructed the wraith, then dismounted. The wraith floated towards the lair, and its guardians, ivory pale vampires in midnight black shrouds, came to meet it. The wraith halted them, and the vampiric guardians obeyed, not instantly tearing it to pieces.
"I bring word from Dennac, the Lord of Destruction", it hailed them. Hissing and growling was exchanged as the wraith presented the offer to join Dennac's crusade against creation. Meanwhile, Vitellus moved in the shadows, his back against the cold stone wall. The hooded robe concealed him from sight, and he suppressed the fear that the vampires would immediatly recognize one of the living among them. The conversation continued, and he had slipped past the guards successfully. It seemed the guess that the vampires would be hesitant to attack a bloodless, lifeless spirit was correct. The chatter dissapeared behind him as he carefully made his way into the dungeon.
After following a tunnel a short distance he noticed activity again. Inactive portals bristled with energy ahead of him. To the left, re-animated wolves growled, but seemed restful. Perhaps acting upon the memory of sleep as the dogs they had once been. To his right he noticed another robed figure. A cloud dispersed around its head. Breath in cold air, Vitellus realized. The highly decorated garments, the arroganct pose and the staff in his hand were all signs of a mage. Beyond the mage were cages filled with the undead. Vampires and their slaves. The cages intrigued him. They were appearently locked. All signs pointed to the unknown mage being the proprietor of the monstrosities, or at least their appointed keeper. His feet moved across the coarse ground of the dungeon, ever closer to the mage. His lack of skill and abundance of luck would not last, however. The mage turned to face him, his diabolical expression twisting into a frown, his eyes flaring with rage. With a sweeping gesture the mage released powder from his hand, a spell component for whatever would come next. The power words were leaving his mouth with frightening proficiency and Vitellus felt the air heat up quickly around him. His paralyzation broke however, and desperation brought his scepter to bear. Still blessed by the hatred of Dennac, and powered by his own desperation, it crashed down upon the face of the mage. Silver met bone and the arrogant features exploded in a cloud of blood and flesh. The mage took a staggering step backwards. One of his eyes had been smashed out of its socket, but the other glared hatefully. The grotesque mockery that remained of his face twitched as he continued the spell with a guttural, inhuman speech. Splinters of bone and teeth fell off it as he chanted, but he seemed indifferent. Vitellus struck again. This time the skull cracked and his limbs were lost beyond the control of his diabolical will, and the mage sunk to the floor, dying or already dead. The undead turned wild in their cages. Vampiric strength clashed against steel bars with a thundering clamor as the entire force of undead locked in those large, numerous cages tired to launch themselves at him in murderous rage.
Vitellus did not shrug back this time. Once the silence and tension had broken and open chaos ensued, his insecurity melted away. He quickly consulted his tome and started his incantation. The noise was simply filtered out as the power of Dennac built up to be released. The cloud of pestilence shot out from his tome and infiltrated the cages indiscriminatly. Confused gurles and growls were heard among the undead. The divine pestilence infiltrated them slowly. They did not breathe, so it took some time before the plague reached into their bodies. Eventually it became clear that Dennac's gifts would consume the living and the dead. A paniced rage broke out as the beasts tore into each other with claws and fangs, some launching themselves so desperatly against the cage doors to escape that their animated bones were broken. Ultimatly, they perished. The plaguebearers grew from within, and exploded out of their remains. Vitellus quickly picked up a key from the mage, used it to unlock a switch, and pulled it. A quick glance over his shoulder revealed the plaguebearer abominations slithering towards the undead wolves with deceptive alacrity. He did not stay to witness the infestation of the dungeon, for plague truly knew no allies.
Instead of entering the lair as a conqueror, he paused. His new master demanded guile where his old ways dictated brute, terrifying force. After a time of silent contemplation, noting the moans of starvation from within the dungeon fortress with indifference, an idea came to him. He would convert the rebellious undead into loyal servants of Dennac. Reading aloud from his tome he summoned a wraith from the black gulf beyond. Vitellus carefully instructed the wraith, then dismounted. The wraith floated towards the lair, and its guardians, ivory pale vampires in midnight black shrouds, came to meet it. The wraith halted them, and the vampiric guardians obeyed, not instantly tearing it to pieces.
"I bring word from Dennac, the Lord of Destruction", it hailed them. Hissing and growling was exchanged as the wraith presented the offer to join Dennac's crusade against creation. Meanwhile, Vitellus moved in the shadows, his back against the cold stone wall. The hooded robe concealed him from sight, and he suppressed the fear that the vampires would immediatly recognize one of the living among them. The conversation continued, and he had slipped past the guards successfully. It seemed the guess that the vampires would be hesitant to attack a bloodless, lifeless spirit was correct. The chatter dissapeared behind him as he carefully made his way into the dungeon.
After following a tunnel a short distance he noticed activity again. Inactive portals bristled with energy ahead of him. To the left, re-animated wolves growled, but seemed restful. Perhaps acting upon the memory of sleep as the dogs they had once been. To his right he noticed another robed figure. A cloud dispersed around its head. Breath in cold air, Vitellus realized. The highly decorated garments, the arroganct pose and the staff in his hand were all signs of a mage. Beyond the mage were cages filled with the undead. Vampires and their slaves. The cages intrigued him. They were appearently locked. All signs pointed to the unknown mage being the proprietor of the monstrosities, or at least their appointed keeper. His feet moved across the coarse ground of the dungeon, ever closer to the mage. His lack of skill and abundance of luck would not last, however. The mage turned to face him, his diabolical expression twisting into a frown, his eyes flaring with rage. With a sweeping gesture the mage released powder from his hand, a spell component for whatever would come next. The power words were leaving his mouth with frightening proficiency and Vitellus felt the air heat up quickly around him. His paralyzation broke however, and desperation brought his scepter to bear. Still blessed by the hatred of Dennac, and powered by his own desperation, it crashed down upon the face of the mage. Silver met bone and the arrogant features exploded in a cloud of blood and flesh. The mage took a staggering step backwards. One of his eyes had been smashed out of its socket, but the other glared hatefully. The grotesque mockery that remained of his face twitched as he continued the spell with a guttural, inhuman speech. Splinters of bone and teeth fell off it as he chanted, but he seemed indifferent. Vitellus struck again. This time the skull cracked and his limbs were lost beyond the control of his diabolical will, and the mage sunk to the floor, dying or already dead. The undead turned wild in their cages. Vampiric strength clashed against steel bars with a thundering clamor as the entire force of undead locked in those large, numerous cages tired to launch themselves at him in murderous rage.
Vitellus did not shrug back this time. Once the silence and tension had broken and open chaos ensued, his insecurity melted away. He quickly consulted his tome and started his incantation. The noise was simply filtered out as the power of Dennac built up to be released. The cloud of pestilence shot out from his tome and infiltrated the cages indiscriminatly. Confused gurles and growls were heard among the undead. The divine pestilence infiltrated them slowly. They did not breathe, so it took some time before the plague reached into their bodies. Eventually it became clear that Dennac's gifts would consume the living and the dead. A paniced rage broke out as the beasts tore into each other with claws and fangs, some launching themselves so desperatly against the cage doors to escape that their animated bones were broken. Ultimatly, they perished. The plaguebearers grew from within, and exploded out of their remains. Vitellus quickly picked up a key from the mage, used it to unlock a switch, and pulled it. A quick glance over his shoulder revealed the plaguebearer abominations slithering towards the undead wolves with deceptive alacrity. He did not stay to witness the infestation of the dungeon, for plague truly knew no allies.