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Post by Gabriel on Jun 18, 2017 8:31:55 GMT
This is a journal to record backstory and events outside of the roleplays Gabriel is in, and in greater depth than what is contained in his profile. None of these entries are actually written anywhere (due to Gabriel being intensely private about many aspects of his past) however, some things he may share in story form with other characters if asked.
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Post by Gabriel on Jun 18, 2017 8:35:18 GMT
History
Name: Damian Os Vis
Blood: Bardic Golem
Status: Sadistic Murderer
Name: Kǟterina Os Vis
Blood: Fire Elemental
Status: Daemon Nobility
Gabriel was the first of four children of the Bardic Golem Damian and the Fire Elemental Kǟterina. They had fallen into a destructive relationship of sorts, but perhaps they loved each other in their own way. Damian, for his part, never murdered Kǟterina. And Kǟterina recognised Damian consistently, something that she failed to do for even her own children. They were not good for each other, and it wasn't a healthy partnership, but it provided a start for Gabriel if not for his brothers and sister. Kǟterina was in no state to care for children and Damian only ever wanted one son to mold and corrupt. After Gabriel fulfilled those requirements his later children were not valued and perished early in their lives.
Childhood
The price that Gabriel payed for his survival was to follow in his father's footsteps. Torture and murder without purpose isn't much of a career but it was what Damian did, and therefore what Gabriel was expected to do. He didn't have a choice in the matter. A murmur of dissent, a hint of reluctance, and he would have been the next victim. He was only eight when Damian began taking him with him each night, hunting. The Bardic Golem was a purist - he didn't believe in using weapons. He preferred to lure his prey into danger or perhaps bed before killing them, using his powerful Bardic magic to do so. Gabriel had inherited the same magic and, as such, was taught to hunt the same way his father did. He never dared to question Damian but something always seemed a little off - the Daemons of Dream Land were powerful, immortal, beautiful, chaotic. Wasn't their torture and senseless murder a waste?
Adolescence
"Do better. You're not a fucking savage. Haven't I taught you to use your magic?" Damian's cold disapproval cut through the still night. Gabriel snarled at his father, his eyes dark with anger and his silver skin splattered with the blood of his latest victim. The young Fire Elemental lay twisted on the ground, his spine cracked in three places and blood still pouring from a huge wound in his throat. His wind pipe, by the looks of it, had been torn clean out. Despite the fact that he was male and despite the fact that Kǟterina hadn't checked in for more than twenty years, he still reminded Gabriel vaguely of his mother.
"I lost my temper. Sorry." The words were clipped, laced with simmering fury. He was angry at Damian for making him do this day after day for no apparent purpose. He was angry at himself, for failing to do it properly. He was angry at the dead Elemental for not putting up a decent fight. He was angry at this whole damn chaotic world for making this his life.
"Do it again, and do it right unless you want to end up like him." Damian's bright sapphire eyes flicked disdainfully to the broken body of Gabriel's latest victim before the Bardic Golem turned and headed into the brothel. Gabriel knew that whichever woman he chose wouldn't live out the night. Growling, he flicked his darkened teal gaze over the crowds.
Young Adulthood
She was fascinated, drawn in by sensuously bright teal eyes, silver skin, whispered velvet words. He smelled like dark honey in the sun and pine, a potent combination that worked like a drug. Her mind was filled with images of wild abandon and climatic release. She followed him willingly into the room, a darkly sensuous succubus enticed by this bardic half-breed.
He fulfilled the promises he'd made but that was just the prelude to his real intent. She never tried to defend herself as his claws and fangs lengthened, blood lust darkening his eyes. The familiar rush of adrenaline was addictive and empowering; this, he'd decided, was the reason his father was like he was. She caught his intent too late; back up against a wall, faster but not as powerful as the Daemon who'd seduced her, she could do nothing to stop Gabriel from forcing his clawed hands through her rib cage to tear out the heart beating frantically inside. He didn't look back as she dropped to the ground, dead before she hit the floor.
"There." Gabriel dropped the heart at Damian's feet, not bothering to meet his father's eyes. This was the daily payment that Damian now demanded in return for letting his son live. Gabriel had been paying it for years; decades, maybe? He couldn't remember. He didn't even bother coming up with new methods to kill them these days; he was bored and disillusioned with the whole affair. But what choice did he have? Disobeying Damian came with the consequence of death, and Gabriel knew better than anyone just what kind of death awaited such a transgression.
"Same again tomorrow."
The Battle
Damian was breathing heavily, balanced on his haunches in a defensive crouch, his hypnotic sapphire eyes trained furiously on his son. Blood dripped from wounds on his chest and arms; he couldn't feel them, but the blood loss was clouding his thoughts. Gabriel was injured too, the bones in his shoulder exposed through a mess of twisted muscle and skin. It throbbed but the Bardic Golem blood he'd inherited from the same man he faced now prevented the pain from disabling him.
"You can't beat me." Gabriel knew better than to engage his father in conversation. He was too charming, too hypnotic, much much too convincing. He kept his eyes lowered and his thoughts on Kǟterina. She'd come back after her latest foray into insanity and fire and Damian had, for the first time, lost his temper with her. She was so badly injured he didn't know if she would survive. Gabriel had stopped Damian and had ended up here. A fight to the death with the very Daemon who trained him.
Gabriel was far from sure he could win this but that didn't stop him trying. It was too late to stop now anyway; unless he killed Damian he would be killed himself. The two Daemons clashed again and again until, as shadowy day gave way to ink-black night, Gabriel backed Damian into a corner. As his claws broke past his father's ribs to clutch his heart, Gabriel smiled with true chaotic violence that he hadn't felt for any of his other victims.
This one, he was going to enjoy.
He didn't stay long in Dream Land after that. It was not this world that he hated but even though Damian was dead, here he still dominated Gabriel's thoughts. He never said goodbye to Kǟterina. She didn't recognise him anyway, as anyone but the person who had taken away the thing she loved most. When he walked through the portal to Litharia he didn't bother looking back. It had made him who he was but it wasn't home.
Not anymore. |
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Post by Gabriel on Jun 18, 2017 8:44:43 GMT
A Fight to the Death
His name was Rah Lyren Frezléh Jhaedaes Os Tar. He was an aquatic Daemon with a pike fish influence; striking, unforgettable, but also frightening. His skin was pearlescent grey-blue, scaled, and always damp and cold. He had webbed feet and fingers that ended in two-inch black claws, serrated like a kitchen blade, that were not able to be retracted. As such when he walked they clacked against the ground, screeching uncomfortably when they caught on stone and leaving deep gouges wherever he went. He had fangs, like all of his kind, but these too could not be retracted and he had no variation in the teeth – all were inch long, thin and tapered to a lethal point. They interlocked when he closed his mouth but his grey lips did not cover them; he seemed to be perpetually snarling as a result and fittingly Rah was known to be easily angered and unpredictable. There was something strangely beautiful about the Daemon, perhaps in the luminescence of his scales or his sinuous way of moving – like a predatory fish he was graceful, exceptionally fast, and powerful. It was hard to forget his eyes if he turned them upon you though. Jet black, with no whites or distinguishable iris, they seemed to bleed into the translucent skin around them. Dark veins crept from the inky orbs and spread in a delicate web across his face, for Rah’s blood was deep onyx in colour. And they were colder than the depths of the seas, utterly emotionless, merciless.
He had been the Daemon Lord for close to eighty years after wrestling the title away from his aging mother in a fight that had killed her, as was Daemon custom. He was certainly not a bad leader. Because he was naturally given to violence Rah ruled through fear and intimidation but the Daemons had no qualms about this. They were a powerful, intimidating race, after all. If he had a fault it was his impulsivity; when angered he never paused to think rationally, instead lashing out to vent his easily provoked frustrations. It caused problems with the more cautious Fae at times and, though their alliance held, it was not as strong as it might have been. It was probably not surprising then that Rah declined to offer the whimsical natives any practical help in the war with the Humans. He instructed his Daemons to live on the edges of the fray, to enjoy the chaos and the violence, but not to openly support their allies. He had no special bond with them, after all. Whether they lived or died was not his concern and nor would he allow it to become a concern of the Daemons as a whole.
It was nothing that Rah did that provoked the half-breed Gabriel to challenge him. He had led them well enough; Gabriel did not necessarily assume he could do better. He simply desired power, desired the position that would allow him to make the decisions; most likely he was tired of feeling under another’s control after a century of unreasonable demands from his sadistic father. Rah had already held off numerous challenges in his eighty year reign and he bore the younger Daemon no personal grudge for the challenge. It was the way Daemons had always done things and it ensured the race remained strong, although naturally he was angered by any threat to his power. Gabriel did not go into the challenge certain he could win. He had killed many times in his life before coming to Litharia, but only Damian was comparable to Rah in skill. Furthermore, he was unfamiliar with Rah’s magic, but then Rah had never encountered a powerful bardic practitioner before.
“I challenge, you, Jhaedaes. If you kill me you keep the title. If I kill you, I take it.” There was no formal statement to announce Gabriel’s attention; he simply selected words that spoke the basic truth. Rah had whirled on him, instantly aroused to fury, but he had accepted. Of course he had. They Daemon Lord could not choose to walk away.
“Very well. I will enjoy the taste of your blood.”
The central cavern of the Daemon Tunnels had made a dramatic setting for the fight. It was so large the ceiling could not be seen far above, lost somewhere in the shadows, and was dominated by the crystal mountain reaching somewhere into those heights. Every step, every snarl, would echo and reverberate, sending those few Daemons who happened to be there to watch into a frenzy of excitement. The clear, cool air would carry the scent of blood around the Tunnels, announcing the progress of the clash to any who cared to know.
Gabriel was three hundred and sixty six years old. He had only his first name to give Rah, after abandoning his family name when he’d left the Dream Land. He was taller than the aquatic demon and, though not bulky, heavier too. His silver moonstone skin caught the eerie mushroom-light of the Tunnels and reflected it back in a subtle sheen; dusky gold, soft rose, muted jade. With his bright teal eyes and bardic charm he was hypnotic, mesmerising, but Rah was old and experienced. There was no moment of silence or contemplation and no sign he was affected by the other Daemon’s magic; angered by the challenge, his bloodlust up, Rah descended into the snarling beast without hesitation, and Gabriel responded instinctively. Saliva dripped from the interlocking fangs of the Daemon Lord as he scented his enemy and memorised the smell of his blood. He could see it thrumming at Gabriel’s throat, enticing and delicious. Hissing, he lunged for the exposed windpipe.
When Rah attacked he was like the predatory fish he embodied. Misleadingly slow and unhurried most of the time, he strove to be unobtrusive and silent, an ambush hunter drifting patiently. But the lunge was lightening fast; darting in, his claws tore at Gabriel’s throat and left four deep gashes that only missed the jugular because he managed to jerk his head up. Before Gabriel had a chance to react Rah was gone, retreating to the shadows to lurk and plan his next impossibly fast strike.
Gabriel brushed the blood from his throat impatiently, his eyes abruptly darkening and an enraged snarl ripping from his throat to echo around the cavern. Instinctively he dropped into a crouch, balancing on his haunches, his chin dropped to protect his throat and his arms held in front of him to protect his vulnerable stomach area. He’d learnt enough from Damian to know Rah would seek to disembowel him or slice the major arteries in his neck or thigh so he protected those areas warily, though holding back felt unnatural. This is where Gabriel differed markedly from Rah. The older Daemon fought on instinct and fury, allowing everything that made him a Daemon to control his movements. Gabriel was more cerebral; he oscillated between forcing his instincts into submission and allowing them control. Perhaps this meant he was slower at times, in responding to an attack, but it also made him more flexible. Control was not something that came naturally to most Daemons and Rah was unfamiliar with it.
The Daemon Lord was not patient. The Daemon crouched immobile in the cavern frustrated him because his next taste of blood was delayed. He’d already licked his first prize from his claws, grinning cruelly as the warm saltiness invigorated him, excited his bloodlust. He wanted to tear and claw, watch the life ebb from the impertinent challenger. He wanted to see those brilliant eyes dull and fade so he could taste victory again. So why wasn’t he following, angered at the hit? What kind of weakling was he?
“Coward...” Rah’s voice floated from the shadows of the crystal spire, a taunting edge to the whispered word. Gabriel had good vision in the dark like all Daemons and could see his silhouette moving from place to place, sometimes drifting, other times disappearing too fast for the eye to follow before reappearing metres away. Rah was trying to enrage his opponent, lure him into making mistakes. Gabriel, though, had lived one hundred years with the taunts of his father. He was not so easily drawn out.
When the aquatic demon attacked again Gabriel was ready. He felt the claws sink into his thigh, seeking the artery that, if cut, would lead him to bleed to death in minutes. Instead of pulling away he sunk his own claws into Rah’s wrist until he felt them hit bone. Unlike Gabriel, Rah felt pain at a usual intensity. He screeched and tried to pull away, black blood spilling freely onto his opponents silver skin and mingling with the dark red trickling from Gabriel’s wounded thigh and throat. He was not strong enough. Gabriel’s claws were lodged in the head of his radius, shearing excruciatingly at tendon and muscle with every movement the Daemon Lord made.
Furious, Rah sank his fangs into Gabriel’s arm and the claws of his other hand into his shoulder. The old scars were split open and it was Gabriel’s turn to growl. Rah’s fangs held a poison that weakened muscle, designed to quickly subdue struggling prey, and he no longer had the strength to stop the older Daemon from pulling his claws from his wrist. Rah darted away again although slower than before. Fighting in close quarters was not his strength; he preferred ambushing an enemy over and over, utilising his stealth and magically enhanced speed, until the foe was too exhausted and had accumulated too many injuries to fight back. Then, yes then, he could drink the sweet blood.
Feeling his own blood spill infuriated him. Gabriel followed the hissing and cursing as Rah made his way in erratic spurts to the crystal spire and began to climb. He was still fast, still lethal, but it was simple to follow the trail of inky blood and climb after him. His own injuries were little more than a dull throb in the back of his mind – annoying but not disabling, he ignored the sluggish creep of blood down his chest from the shoulder wound and fixed his gaze on the shadow of the Daemon Lord creeping ever higher.
Rah’s claws, though, were thick and broke easily into the crystal, and he sported them on his feet as well as his hands. Gabriel couldn’t climb so high and certainly not so quickly, so he paused on a wide ledge and located Rah again. Ten metres up and crawling over the face of the spire like a cockroach, he was regrouping and devising his next attack.
“What’s the matter, Daemon Lord? Not faring as well as you hoped?” It was Gabriel’s turn to taunt, to throw a snide comment at his opponent and try to draw him out. Rah had never accepted an insult, after all.
“You’ve left your blood all over the cavern, fish. Are you going to keep crawling away from your duty?”
His words didn’t even have time to fade before Rah landed unexpectedly on his shoulders, having reacted with instinctive fury to the insult and dropped like a silent stone to attack again. He was not silent any longer. Hissing and snarling reverberated around the cavern, echoing and magnifying as the watching Daemons below added their own snarls of excitement. His claws were around Gabriel’s neck, the claws on his feet digging into the muscles of his upper back, tearing and twisting as he sought the spine or windpipe. There was no time to think anymore. Roaring savagely, Gabriel let the instincts of a Daemon take over.
Reaching behind, his own claws sunk into Rah’s side moments before the Daemon Lord managed to dig deep enough into his throat to do some fatal damage. A sharp hiss in Gabriel’s ear let him know he’d hit his mark and he jerked his arm forward, dislodging Rah from his back to fling him on the crystal ledge. He landed with a dull thump on his knees and elbows and immediately scrambled to get away but the blood loss made him slightly sluggish; just enough for Gabriel to have time to sink his claws deep into the Daemon Lord’s back. He found his mark. The thin, dagger-like lengths were long and sharply tapered so they slipped between the interlocking vertebrae of Rah’s spine, damaging the spinal cord and becoming lodged with Gabriel’s whole hand buried in a mess of torn, twisted muscle and scaled flesh.
Rah’s legs immediately went limp. The damage to his spinal cord paralysed everything below the site of injury, with the only upside being he felt no pain from Gabriel’s last, devastating attack. He didn’t give up. Twisting his torso he raked his claws over Gabriel’s forearm, hissing and spitting angrily as he did; the half-breed couldn’t move away as his claws were lodged immovably in Rah’s spine. White bone could soon be seen beneath an ever-increasing flow of crimson blood; the serrated claws were effective for tearing and Rah made the most of that. Fighting down the instinct to jerk away, considering that wasn’t possible, a measure of consciousness returned to Gabriel’s teal eyes and he grinned, a feral expression, cruel and triumphant.
Slowly, deliberately, the younger Daemon jammed his claws deeper and more securely into Rah’s spine, adding the shorter, thicker claw on his thumb for extra leverage. Rah didn’t seem to notice; there was no pain due to his ruined spinal cord. But it only took Gabriel a few seconds to feel his hold on the interlocking bones was secure and, with a cold snarl, he began to pull.
Beneath him Rah started to thrash uncontrollably as nerves were ripped forcibly from their proper places, sending the muscles through his torso and limbs into involuntary spasms. His screaming echoed through the cavern; this part was not painless. Slowly but surely Gabriel pulled his hand free, a large section of the Daemon Lord’s spine coming with it, a torn mess of tendons and muscle hanging from the bones and dripping thick onyx blood. Finally, one last powerful jerk snapped Rah’s spinal cord at the level of his brainstem and his body twitched, shivering like a dying fish, before he fell still. Dead.
Gabriel stood still for a long moment, heedless of the noise from the Daemons below. It had not been an easy fight and his own blood mingling freely with that of the dead Daemon Lord proved that. Or rather, ex-Daemon Lord. He would survive despite the injuries looking bad. The muscle and flesh at his throat and wrist were shredded and deep gouges ran the length of his upper back but nothing vital had been damaged.
He used his other hand to free himself of the vertebra lodged on his claws and carelessly threw the broken length of spine, muscle and tendons to lie with the rest of Rah’s body. He would be buried in the Maze of the Dead, his grave marked with his name; Rah Lyren Frezléh, but not with the title. That now belonged to the half-breed successor who would no longer go by his old name, Gabriel Os Vis, nor even the simple name he’d chosen to keep on coming to Litharia, Gabriel. He would now be known by the title gifted to the Daemon Lord by the Fae to acknowledge their alliance.
Gabriel Jhaedaes os Tar, leader of chaos. |
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Post by Gabriel on Jun 18, 2017 8:50:05 GMT
Drowning
The trees in the Dream Land, if you could call them trees, were twisted and warped by the influence of chaotic magic. Leafless and bleached bone white, their petrified branches clawed ineffectually at the thin mist that lingered perpetually about six feet off the ground and moved in constant eddies despite the lack of wind. It might not have seemed a peaceful place but for Gabriel the small clearing amongst the skeletal trees was quiet and relaxing. His eyes followed the progress of a strange cat-like creature, no larger than a mouse, as it hunted venomous wasps through the alabaster branches. The harsh trilling it made whenever it succeeded was the only noise breaking a silence so oppressive it was almost a physical presence, resting tangibly on the shoulders of the watching Daemon below.
He lay spread-eagled on the stone ground, breathing slowly, trying to forget the fact that he hadn't killed anyone yet - not today. At first the daily murders had been thrilling, inciting his natural blood lust and providing an interesting opportunity to practice his growing magical skills. Then the task had become stale, repetitive. Now it was a chore. Gabriel deeply resented the control that his father lauded over him and this sadistic daily ritual was just another shackle - and it was heavy, getting heavier every day.
Teal eyes flicked to the cat-creature as it suddenly froze and then, in the time it took him to blink, disappeared as if it had never been there. The wasps it was hunting were gone too and now the clearing was truly silent, so much so that Gabriel hardly dared breathe. The reason for this change appeared moments later though, shattering the peace and destroying the silence without any regard for Gabriel's desire to be alone.
"You're late, kisama. Useless fucking saitei." When Damian was angry he often slipped back into garbling the native tongue with the common one, a habit Gabriel detested.
"I've had enough. Go get your own hearts, Damian."
Gabriel's father was not someone you argued with. Quite apart from being six foot seven and powerfully muscular, his mind and his magic were just too dangerous. He could tear you to shreds physically or mentally with no apparent effort. And he'd enjoy it.
"Why are you arguing with me, Gabriel?" Damian's voice was quiet and silky, causing the younger Daemon to flinch internally. When Damian yelled you knew you were in for hell. When he used that velvety tone, dripping with false sugar, you were in for so much worse.
"I just...don't see the point." Gabriel knew he sounded sullen and childish but Damian didn't exactly cultivate his maturity.
"There doesn't have to be a point," Damian hissed, his eyes narrowing angrily. He'd always had a temper. Gabriel had always managed to provoke it.
"You do it because I fucking told you to. Go. Now."
Gabriel glared furiously at Damian - he'd inherited the same quick temper - and climbed stiffly to his feet.
"No."
"No?" Damian's voice was so quiet Gabriel could barely hear him.
"No."
Gabriel should have seen it coming - the brightness in Damian's brilliant teal eyes, the predatory smile playing at the corner of his lips. He'd hated his father almost as long as he could remember - it had taken a remarkably short time for childlike curiosity to curdle into fear and contempt - and the way he used his magic was a major reason for this. Damian was sadistic, he loved torture - not just physical but mental. And when Gabriel had been eight years old Damian had perfected an ability that he'd been torturing his son with ever since.
Jerked out of his contemplations of a childhood ruined by his father's sadism, Gabriel snarled at Damian and sank into a crouch reflexively as water began to trickle out of the ground and pool around his feet. But Damian was gone, slipping somewhere into the mist and shadows, just to make sure the torture was complete. After all, dying was always scarier when you were alone. This was a new one but Gabriel was sure it wasn't real, positive it was just another torture session.
Wasn't it?
It's not real. It's all in my head.
But it felt real. He could hear the water bubbling out of the ground, gurgling as it swilled around his feet. He could feel it, cold against his skin, immediately making him feel drained and uncomfortable. Damian knew he hated water thanks to Katerina's influence - when it came to torture he was a master - but still, even knowing this, Gabriel couldn't quite shake off the feeling that he really was standing in water now up to his waist.
Finally, when it reached his chin, he broke.
"I'll do it! Damian, stop!" There was no answer. Gabriel shivered, the chilling water stripping his energy and stiffening his joints. And still it was getting deeper. Before long Gabriel was swimming above the tops of the petrified trees, now submerged somewhere below him, and water was all he could see in any direction.
"Fuck you Damian," he hissed, treading water, his limbs as heavy as stones. The other Daemon was nowhere to be seen but as Gabriel glanced around wildly for some sign of his tormentor he noticed the water was beginning to move. Swirl, actually. A whirlpool that he was getting sucked into.
Gabriel swore at Damian one last time before being sucked under the cold water. He could feel it; helpless, weightless, at the mercy of the currents. Wet hair clinging to his clammy skin, bone numbing cold. Clothing made heavy by the weight of the water. Exhaustion, from fighting gravity. And the lack of air, of course. Gabriel held his breath until his lungs screamed for air, burning, causing him to wretch and clutch his chest. Wildly he reached for something, anything to cling to, and felt his hand contact something hard and unyielding. He clung to it desperately but it couldn't do any good - he had to breathe.
So he opened his mouth, and the water flowed in.
***
Few things are worse than surviving your own death. When Gabriel opened his eyes he was standing in the clearing, exactly where he had been before Damian disappeared, though he immediately sank to his knees as his legs gave way. He was bone dry - his clothes, his hair, his skin. He could breathe - great, life-giving breaths that had never tasted so sweet. And, most importantly, he was alive.
Fuck Damian.
With a frustrated snarl that echoed through the petrified trees Gabriel turned on his heel and stormed out of the clearing, stirring up dust under his heel as he did. The message was clear; get the heart. Keep getting the fucking heart, or die - over and over and over again. Damian was creative, clever. Gabriel didn't want to see what torture he dreamed up next. |
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Post by Gabriel on Jun 18, 2017 8:53:03 GMT
You Were My Brother
But you turned your back, And you went away, It's making me crazy, I feel so alone Why did you turn your back, Why did go away, Cos you were my brother, And you should have stayed
Ngar'li was a city of contradictions. Beautiful but foreboding, inviting but dark, intriguing but dangerous, she wore a gown of deep-indigo light. The cobblestone streets were shadowed, mysterious labyrinths hiding desperate fear and whispered pleasure. The buildings towered above the tallest residents, their imperious heights lost somewhere in eternal twilight except when sapphire lightning crowned them, briefly, with deadly halos that revealed their secrets. Ngar'li was a city of contradictions, built to perfectly reflect the souls of the creatures who lived there, endless contradictions in themselves. Dangerous, immortal predators; the Daemons were misleadingly beautiful beings and the only sentient race of this land. Ngar'li - along with every other civilisation in the Dream Land - was just for them.
Ngar'li promised death, cruel and merciless, laughing and torturous, for those who did not respect her twisted darkness. Even the children here were streetwise; they prowled the alleys as lean, lithe predators-in-miniature, bare feet silent on the stones and fangs bared in adult snarls. The two that haunted Ngar'li's industrial district were as pale as moonlight, their skin lavender beneath the city's purple cloak, their eyes an unnatural shade of blue-green as they flashed over the windows of empty warehouses looking for an entrance. The buildings out here were neglected, the streets quiet and still as death, so they came to explore and to play. Small killers they might be but they were still boys, drawn naturally to the curiosities of childhood - empty buildings, abandoned and echoing, the shadows within them so deep that you could get lost and never find your way out - yes, these were lures that curious boys could not resist. It was easy to select a particular target; you chose one where the glass was already broken so the shattering would not draw attention and you slipped in, wraith-children with whispers for voices, small feral ghosts in the perpetual night.
"Quietly. The gicbəsər come here sometimes." The younger, distinguished by his scrawnier shorter frame, had more caution than his brother - though that brother was only a year or two older, and as scrawny as an alley cat himself.
"They won't come tonight." The elder's tone was confident, though he whispered nonetheless.
"The gicbəsər are cowards. They won't come while the moon is waning." Light saved your life in Ngar'li. Though the city was never safe, it was measurably less lethal when silver moonlight lit the streets, adding an ethereal beauty to the deep purple shadows. The children chose this night carefully, though, as the moon ebbed towards nothingness. Darkness was dangerous, but darkness was also secret.
It did seem as though they were alone. The broken window that had given them entrance was the only small square of light visible - the others, shuttered and fastened, had heavy black glass that shut out the wan moon. Blackness so thick it was almost tangible stretched ahead of them and every movement echoed, a whisper of feet on stone rolling from their forms and gathering strength in the huge, empty warehouse until it bounced off walls endlessly far away and came back, almost having gained a voice of its own. This building might have been used to store things once; stone, glass, food even. Now it is empty and abandoned but dignified still and they are inside its cavernous mouth, and it is too late to go back without at least reaching the other side just to say they had.
Small hands searched for each other in the darkness, that the brothers might take comfort in each other's unspoken nervousness. Their skin is cold and papery when they grasp hands and they meet each others eyes, the elder's the green blue of the eastern sea and the younger's cerulean. They can't see each other but they feel the connection with a predator's finely tuned senses and a brother's innate connection. This gives them courage, marked by shaky childish smiles, to strike out into the darkness. The cloak of absolute lack of light falls heavy on small shoulders, too thin to bear an adult's courage, but the cool paper skin of their brother's hand in their own is enough. Step by step they venture into the warehouse, wraiths in here as much as they are on the streets, and filled with the boyish need to prove they are brave enough to prevail in a self-imposed dare.
Their journey is endless, and they grow inestimably older for the adventure. They are explorers now, braver than the other gang of boys they call the 'gicbəsər', or night-rats, who would never dare venture into this part of the city like they have. Or so they tell themselves, because as soon as they hear that Gabriel and Sebastian have done it they will have to do something even better, but the important thing is the gicbəsər didn't do it first, they did, and that's a win for them in the ongoing wars of children. They are already giddy and exultant with their victory when shaky fingers brush the wall of the warehouse, the far side from where they entered. The elder hisses under his breath; they are powerful, immortal, fearless, free. No-one will take this from them. He turns to Sebastian, an unseen warmth in the dark next to him, and they give each other invisible grins.
Until a growl in the warehouse drains their courage and leaves them frozen, alone, gripping each others hand so tightly they lose all feeling.
It doesn't matter if it is imagined or real, because the fear is certainly real and it sends them scattering back to the small square of light that is their only hope of salvation. It is leagues away, another city, another world, another dimension, but they run anyway and they never let go of each other's hands. They fancy they hear the scrape of claws on stone behind them and they run faster, the older child tugging his brother along desperately, their lungs screaming for oxygen. The sounds of childish panic fill the cavernous room and they mistake it for the heavy breath of a monster on the back of their necks. They are terrified, no longer immortal and powerful but almost alone, almost dead, and it almost wasn't worth that win after all. But then they are climbing out of the window, Gabriel boosting Sebastian before him and scrambling after his younger brother like a frightened cat, until they collapse onto the street with their arms around each other and their eyes as wide as the full moon.
Their breath comes in deep gasps, hitching and faltering, but they are out and the dim indigo light of Ngar'li is practically blinding after the endless black they just escaped. Fortunately, children forget terror quickly when triumph is the outcome and soon they are laughing, dark hair falling into eyes bright with mirth and success, brotherly bonds strengthened by a near-miss that might or might not have been real. It doesn't matter; they have won, and the gicbəsər will hear about it soon enough. The boys are recovered soon enough and slink back onto the streets towards the more populated regions of the city. Ngar'li is a city of contradictions; deadly but fun, and tonight like most nights it is their playground, and they are the kings. |
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Post by Gabriel on Jun 18, 2017 9:01:25 GMT
Silver and Cold
He whispered something in her ear that made her laugh, throwing her head back prettily and touching his arm in an unconscious display of approval. Her reaction made him grin, though the expression was no simple indication of delight. It was the smile of the supremely confident. It was a smile that said “this is too easy”.
It had always been too easy.
The child watched from an unobtrusive corner, his bright teal gaze fixed on a man who was so strikingly similar in appearance that none could doubt their relation. This performance unfolding in front of him was so familiar he could have predicted every move. Damian would enter and choose someone who interested him. She was always female, always beautiful, always very different from Katerina. Blonde or dark-haired, usually; this one had hair like molten gold, falling in loose curls to the small of her back where his clawed hand stroked absentmindedly, raising goose-bumps on milky skin. He would then charm her, whispering honeyed words to her ears only, and she would never realize a hundred women before her had heard the same. She would laugh and blush and drink with him. She would be dazzled, delighted, mesmerized. She would agree to leave and go somewhere more private.
At that point the child, thin with the awkward boniness of youth, would slip out of his corner and follow Damian outside. He would watch as his father trailed searing kisses along the woman’s throat, see her extend her own claws and leave bright red trails along his silver skin that he never even felt. While Gabriel was there Damian never lingered over a victim too long. While she flushed, heated and enchanted under his careless touch, he would look her over with a cold sapphire gaze – a surgeon, analyzing, looking for the thrum of a pulse, contemplating destruction.
Then he would kill her.
Sometimes he ripped out the woman’s throat. She was a Daemon too, invariably, but despite her own reputation as a dangerous predator she was helpless to Damian’s whispered, poisonous words. By the time his claws sunk into her windpipe she was ensnared, a mouse for the cat to play with and torture before he finally allowed her the mercy of death. Other times he’d sink his claws into her back, sending blood pouring into punctured lungs and watching with detached interest as crimson death bubbled from her mouth. She’d be pressed to his body, flush with burning stone, trapped. His favourite method, though, was to rip out her heart. She’d be in undulating ecstasy right up to the moment that his hand delved beneath her ribs, pushing aside useless flesh and organs to find the beating centre of her. There was always a moment of realization on their faces then – horror, pain, fear, disbelief. Then he’d close his claws over the most vital of organs and pull until the light went out in their eyes.
Gabriel had watched this happen a thousand times. He’d seen all the various murders and had stopped fearing the sight of death a long time ago. Even as a child he had the Daemon bloodlust but this was far beyond anything normal and it had taken some desensitization. He was desensitized now. He watched Damian seduce the latest victim with passive indifference; his father didn’t kill only women, but they were the only ones who had it dragged out like this.
“Come here.”
His father’s command, issued in a harsh growl so startlingly different to his velvety seduction, alarmed the current victim enough for her to shrink back against the wall. Damian had obviously done something to ensure she wouldn’t run, though, because his attention was now on his son.
“Kill her.”
Gabriel stared at Damian. He knew by now that his father expected control so his expression was carefully blank, youthful innocence set in stone. Perhaps his eyes widened a fraction, though, because displeasure flickered over Damian’s visage. Or perhaps he simply expected Gabriel to move at once by now, a well-oiled machine sensitive to every command. Well, the young half-breed wasn’t that yet, and Damian’s claws wrapped around one childish upper arm, drawing blood as he yanked his son closer.
“You heard me. Be quick about it, I don’t have all night.”
Lies. Damian didn’t have anything else to do except kill, hunt, and kill again. Gabriel didn’t say this though; he’d watched three siblings submit to cold indifference and negligence, beautiful silver-skinned children left to starve or wither or be torn to shreds. He both hated Damian’s unique attention being showered on him and depended on it. A slave to survival…it was this, not Damian’s pointed glare, which made him draw closer to the cowering female Daemon. She didn’t move as the child approached her although he thought he caught a flicker of relief, hope even, in her eyes; he remained indifferent to this eternal optimism. Plainly she thought she had a better chance of getting away from the eight year old child approaching her cautiously, head tilted slightly to one side and dark hair spilling into eyes only a shade or two lighter than his fathers’. She was wrong. Gabriel would obey because he had no choice – in his own childish mind, he was as much a victim as she was.
She still couldn’t move and this gave Gabriel time to think. It was imperative he impressed Damian or he risked his father’s wrath turning onto himself. By the time he was close enough to touch her, entirely ignoring the way her expression oscillated between pleading and threatening, he knew what the sadistic Golem would expect him to do.
It was easy to pretend he was somewhere else when Damian did it, but as the thin, quiet child pushed his claws into the hollow beneath her rib cage, he couldn’t ignore the way blood drenched his hand and ran down the length of his forearm. He couldn’t pretend that he wasn’t causing her screams of agony, her frantic pleas for mercy, her stifled thrashing against the wall. Somewhere beneath the sickness of it all, though, a new feeling flickered into life and started to burn somewhere in the essence of him; a feeling like this was good, this was needed, this was right. It was the Daemon’s natural bloodlust kicking in; until now it remained dormant beneath the veneer of childhood.
No longer.
It was harder than Damian made it look, to find her heart. His claws delved deeper, sometimes finding nothing but muscle and fat, other times thwarted by hard bone that he didn’t yet have the strength to crush. He damaged her lungs long before the erratic beating guided his fingers to the right place and she probably drowned in her own blood before he managed to pull the organ free, but when he turned to Damian – blood-splattered, breathing hard, with a damaged heart clutched triumphantly in one hand – the older Daemon seemed satisfied. He nodded once and nudged the body of the woman derisively; now dead, released from his spell, she folded and crumpled to the ground with a dull thump.
At eight years old Gabriel Os Vis killed for the first time. |
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Post by Gabriel on Jun 18, 2017 9:04:06 GMT
We Die Young
Gabriel trailed sullenly after his father through the near-deserted streets of the town, his gaze fixed on the dusty path and his mind focused on his own misery. It was obvious the seven year old didn't want to be here but he didn't complain as he shadowed the older Bardic Golem past quiet bars and shuttered houses made of cold white marble. Their relationship was easy to see; the child was the spitting image of the older Daemon, a near-perfect miniature except for faint red streaks in his dark hair, now so long is was obscuring his vision, and eyes of iridescent teal rather than bright sapphire.
Gabriel didn't really know why Damian had brought him here, to a small town inhabited by perhaps one hundred and fifty Daemons at most, a few days travel out of the major city of Ngar'li that was his more frequented haunt. Damian often hunted for victims in Ngar'li, where he was simply one nightmare among many - the city was known to be dangerous, home to the more unbalanced and maniacally homicidal Daemons of Dream Land. This town, though, was too small and too open - no large walls protected it from the biting winds of the plains, no clustered buildings deterred the hunting monsters from visiting far too often. Gabriel could see their claw marks on the marble, proof the small houses weren't enough of a defense from Dream Land's dangers. These people were poor, non-nomadic types; slim pickings for Damian. Unbeknownst to Gabriel his father was too impatient to wait until their next visit to Ngar'li to find another victim. Katerina had left again several weeks ago, pregnant but leaving Damian with the three other children and sending him into a darkly black mood. Gabriel wasn't good at reading this yet though; as far as he was concerned Damian was just as moody and nasty as he usually was.
What he really wanted was to find his brother and escape with him for a while, maybe go and explore the stand of deadwoods not far from the cave on the Olpham plains where Damian had deposited Sebastian and Liliya before dragging him to the stupid town. He scuffed a bare foot in the dirt, drawing crooked lines as he walked until Damian glared at him, a warning to shut up. Gabriel was used to being the only one taken on these forays to find victims; Damian seemed more or less indifferent to his younger siblings, and although he'd never been outright violent towards them he often ignored them and left them alone for long stretches of time. Gabriel resented being the only one forced to watch his father seduce and murder, or simply destroy, the people who were unfortunate or stupid enough to cross his path when he'd have rather been amusing himself, probably with Sebastian's company. At seven years old he was unmoved by death, had seen his father kill hundreds of times, but he didn't really understand Damian's murderous patterns. They were in excess of most Daemons, the mark of a truly unhinged maniac, and despite a healthy natural bloodlust common to all Daemons Gabriel would have preferred to be doing other things.
Damian insisted he watch each and every kill these days and so Gabriel did, standing quietly and unobtrusively alongside a marble building while Damian splattered it with a Vampire's blood. If the other Daemon noticed the silent, sullen child watching his death he never showed it, too focused on his impending doom to make any remark of the strangeness. There was no slow seduction, no games, today. Damian was in a bad mood, worse than usual, and had just wanted to destroy. That done some of his black, boiling anger seemed to simmer away and Gabriel followed him back out of the town, avoiding stepping in the dark red blood now dripping from his father's hands and marking the trail back out to the plains. It was drying black on Damian's silver moonstone skin already, dark and sticky, causing Gabriel to wrinkle his nose and avert his eyes. The flies would come soon enough, and Damian never seemed to be in a hurry to rinse it off.
Gabriel remained sullen and distracted while they headed back to the plains, safe to ignore possible dangers in the presence of his father. Damian, for all his many and terrible faults, was possessively protective of his oldest son. This was not a service extended to his other children, however, and Gabriel frowned and peered around Damian's blood-splattered back as they approached the cave. It was quiet and he didn't know why; Sebastian and Liliya, though they had very little attachment to Damian, should have at least been coming out to see him by now. A subtle chill ran the length of Gabriel's spine. They could have just been sleeping but something instinctive told him everything had gone terribly wrong while they were away.
Without warning, Damian shoved Gabriel so hard that he stumbled and fell to the ground, smacking his head against the rocky ground hard enough that he blacked out for a few seconds. When he came around blood was trickling down his forehead and his vision was blurry. There was no pain - none of the family could feel it except Liliya, and her experience was blunted - but he felt violently sick and dizzy, and wasn't able to stand. Through dazed vision and a screen of burning hot blood dripping into his eyes Gabriel watched, uncomprehending, as Damian taunted a large animal and drew it slowly from the cave. He couldn't make out what it was but it had too many legs and moved faster than its bulk suggested it should be able to. He was scared but the dizziness was overwhelming, so Gabriel rolled onto his side and curled into a ball with his eyes squeezed shut until the ringing in his head faded and stopped.
He was shaken out of this position by Damian, his father's hand rough on his shoulder as he hauled Gabriel to his feet. Confused and still feeling sick he looked around slowly, trying to understand what he was seeing. In front of the cave a pile of tangled legs and sparse black fur still twitched, dying and leaking bright purple blood onto the plains. Liliya sat alongside it, just outside the entrance of the cave. The two year old was covered in cobwebs although they'd been torn away from her face and limbs. She was pale and silent with shock, and there was no sign of his brother.
"Where's Sebastian?"
"Gone." Damian's tone was sharp and Gabriel knew that meant he wasn't supposed to ask any more questions. He abruptly fell silent though inside he was screaming.
Gone where?
"We're going, get Liliya. I want to be in Ngar'li within three days." Gabriel stared at Damian, uncomprehending, disbelieving. Damian seemed impassive to his son's shock, though; impassive to everything. He seemed to be in exactly the same mood as he had been before finding the creature in the cave where he'd left his children.
"Now." As Gabriel watched Damian started to stride off in the direction of the large city, and it looked like he was going with or without his children. Shakily, Gabriel made his way over to Liliya and set her on her feet, skirting the now-dead monster carefully.
"Come on, time to go." Liliya, who at two years old had yet to speak a single word, didn't resist. She followed Damian, with Gabriel ushering her from behind, silently and instinctively, numb with fear. Gabriel was still trying to understand what happened as they passed the mouth of the cave, where he spotted Sebastian's body suspended from the ceiling and shrouded in spider silk, recognizable only from the one small hand hanging free. Only then did he get it.
Sebastian was gone. |
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Post by Gabriel on Jun 18, 2017 9:07:50 GMT
Let Me Go
Out here, Gabriel knew, he had never been more alone.
The silence was deafening. Mercury waves were too thick to make any noise as they broke on a marble shore, a gentle ebb and flow of shiny liquid silver. Across a stretch of metallic ocean, in the distance but imperious nonetheless, a line of statuesque pyramids stretched as far as the eye could see. Most of them were white, bleached like old bones, but a few were shot with brilliant colour more intense than almost anywhere else in ovçular veyillənmək və toran qaydaları olduğu xaos və qaranlıq torpaq; rich jade, burnt ochre, resplendent sapphire. It was not the first time that Gabriel had visited Mərmərləmək but it would be the last. This time, Damian wasn't with him, because Damian was dead and long since in the ground.
A small boat carved from a light pale grey wood lay abandoned on the shores of the mercury sea and he climbed into it and pushed off, careful not to touch the poisonous waves. Last time Damian had taunted him with images of drowning in that poisonous sea, but Gabriel had ripped out his heart and left the Golem dead on the streets, so there was no way his father could accompany him here now. Gabriel didn't want him to anyway; he never wanted to see or even think about his father again. He was visiting the most important parts of the Dream Land for the last time now; alone, exactly has he wanted to be.
The pyramids were smooth and hard to climb, but it wasn't impossible. He searched for footholds and ascended towards the sky, high enough that the air became thin and breathing difficult. He knew enough to avoid the occasional cave carved into the pyramid's side by some animal; always dangerous, it was unwise to enter one for a rest. Only when he found a ledge just wide enough for him to sit cross-legged, and near the top, did Gabriel stop. It seemed important to say goodbye to the places that featured as memories of childhood before he left them forever.
Overhead Xəyalları, the moon, hung heavy and silver in the sky, paler than the iron seas below and flanked by the sisters Xaos, Idi and Qan. The three planets were more colourful than the Dream Land, especially Idi, and Gabriel had wondered as a child if other people lived there. He still wondered now; despite the bitter cold of the air and the marble pyramid at his back the skies were brilliantly clear, and it seemed like he could almost see into the heart of those other planets, linked inexorably with the one he called home.
Not for much longer, though. Gabriel had decided to leave the Dream Land almost as soon as Damian's body had cooled with his mother curled over it, lost and grieving and furious with her son, though it had taken years to say goodbye to all the places he wanted to remember. There was a portal close to the castle of the Fənalıq'şah, which was said to lead to another world, an entirely different dimension. The rumours said you became weaker over there, and wouldn't live forever, but Gabriel no longer wanted to live forever if it meant living here. He couldn't blame the Dream Land for feeling disconnected now, but every single place he visited now seemed to hold memories he didn't want to be constantly confronted with. The new place was called Litharia, and after he'd said goodbye he intended to set out on that new adventure.
It was too cold to stay at Mərmərləmək for long. Gabriel watched as Xəyalları waned and faded before climbing back down the pyramid and rowing across the mercury sea. Perhaps this Litharia would be like Ida, which from the Dream Land looked bright green and blue. Alive, compared to Dream Land's subtle cloak of grey. The pyramids were his final destination so as he set out on the long walk south he stopped calling this place home. Katerina could have it; the last member of his family, it suited her better and he didn't want it anymore.
Still, it felt strange to think he was never coming back. |
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Post by Gabriel on Jun 18, 2017 9:13:57 GMT
Somewhere Only We Know
Gabriel stood at the edge of the treeline, watching the branches of the nearest - a young sycamore with a dense cloak of bright green leaves - warily. Disbelievingly. They'd told him not long after he came to Litharia that there was a Forest here - the heart and soul of this land - which was as alive as the Fae that wandered beneath the branches. A Forest that whispered and spoke, full of trees that moved without the aid of wind or guidance of the sun, that bent their lofty heads merely for curiosity, that attacked those who it considered to be the enemy of the Forest or the Fae. It was this last point that made Gabriel pause at the edge, moonlight filtering through the trees ahead of him and turning his moonstone skin an ethereal shade of blue, the trees so silent and still he couldn't tell if it was merely stories of whimsy that had brought him here or if the trees had fallen silent and watchful when he approached, sensing a newcomer.
His guide didn't pause. He walked fearlessly into the trees and a pine dropped a branch across his shoulders affectionately. Gabriel stared, amazed; if someone had told him a month ago he would describe a tree as affectionate he would have written them off as insane. Tentatively Gabriel followed the Wood Elf into the Forest, far tenser than the old Fae who looked so at home here that Gabriel could scarcely imagine him anywhere else. He was as much a part of this place as Litharia was a part of him and the trees knew him, greeted him like an old friend. Gabriel on the other hand experienced immediately the sensation of being watched, and a feeling that the trees were wary of him. They barely moved as he passed, keeping his steps light and his shoulders tense, gaze on the branches silhouetted by moonlight above him. The magic was so strong in here that Gabriel could feel it as a tangible substance, like air currents eddying around him and brushing lightly over his skin.
And it was only growing stronger.
The silent Elf ahead of him showed the way, undeterred by darkness. He knew the Forest so well that he could have navigated any stretch of it blind - he'd lived here for nearly a thousand years, though he could have been a teenager to the casual observer, for how youthful he appeared. Gabriel had not been fooled, not even in the first instant the Elf had come to him and mentioned a celebration at their fortress known as the Mound, offered an invitation, provided himself as a guide. He had seen the wisdom in the ever-young jade green eyes at once, found the experience of years that was ever so subtly hinted at in the sombre, self-assured expression. He was so different to what Gabriel had expected of the Fae - he did not laugh, or dance, and his clothing was simple - and yet he radiated such powerful wild magic that Gabriel had felt it coming off him in waves. The Daemon, having arrived in Litharia only a couple of months previously, accepted the invitation at once. It was not in his nature to be cautious.
The magic grew steadily stronger as they approached the Mound and by the time they reached the entrance Gabriel felt immersed in the Fae's world, on some wavelength he'd never accessed before. Fairies and Elves, Changelings and Muses came and went from the Mound, so colourful, so carefree. They gazed curiously at the silver-skinned Daemon as they passed him, as intrigued by the dark chaotic magic aura he gave off as he was by their colourful wild. The ancient Elf beckoned him inside and as Gabriel entered the Mound and passed into the world of Faery, he surrendered himself to their chaos without question, without hesitation, without limitation.
He remembered little of the following days. His memory was nothing but bright flashes of colour, more intense than he'd ever seen before; swirling overhead, brushing his skin and leaving behind fluorescent patterns, rippling beneath his feet as he walked - where? He couldn't have said. He knew there was great beauty in the place he'd been, both in his surroundings and his company. He remembered dancing fairies with azure butterfly wings, shades of purple and green he'd never thought could exist. He remembered the Elves singing, their voices high and fluted, accompanied by some music with an origin he couldn't pinpoint. Mostly, though, he remembered the magic - so intense it was actually visible, sinuous threads in the air that could be touched, tasted, smelt. Fae magic smelt like roses and silver, was the colour at the very centre of the sun, tasted like spun sugar. It changed time and warped memory. By the time he emerged, blinking, into a dark forest that had accepted him as a friend, the moon was gone. Had he really been in Faery for half a month?
Gabriel made his first connections to the Fae that night and it would be one that would only strengthen over time. This, perhaps, was what the ancient Elf had intended. Perhaps he'd seen a little of Gabriel's future, or guessed at the latent power that would one day be unlocked by this bardic Daemon. Maybe he just liked to introduce this new species to their world - the Daemons, wild and dark and chaotic, the only ones able to walk into Faery and come out later with their sanity intact. Years later, when Gabriel became the Daemon Lord, he would remember that first time in Faery. He would return there often, revelling in their wild magic, drunk on their colour and whimsy. And he would consider them allies, long before any formal agreement was reached, long before he established his own power in Litharia. They were the heart of this land, its soul and its life, and Faery was his escape. He would protect that, if he could. |
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Post by Gabriel on Jul 2, 2017 4:04:29 GMT
War
The battle line had been drawn by the Humans, in the end - by the burning of a great swathe of the Forest where it curled around to the West and drew closest to the city of Spirit. Where once trees older than time had lived and breathed now lay a burning wasteland of cracked, blackened stumps and the charred bodies of animals too slow to escape the flames. In doing so, the Human army had created a channel between the Savannah where their lines had been formed after the destruction and the Northern Tangle, so reinforcements from the Human settlements in the far North could meet the main army without having to avoid the enchanted Forest by going miles to the east, through the dangerous cliffs, or even further to the far west and through the equally dangerous marshes. It was a calculated, clever move, carried out by an armoured unit of Fire Mages now concealed behind the front line but ready to re-emerge and continue the devastation of the Forest that provided sanctuary for their foes.
It had succeeded, too, in drawing the Fae out to protect their ancestral home from further destruction. Line upon line of foot soldiers, in front of further lines of cavalry, all in the gold armour of the royal army, faced the more ragged lines of the Fae. They amassed amongst the charred remains of the Forest - a mismatched, much smaller group of such varying sizes and shapes that the neat units of the Humans could not be replicated by them. The archers on the left, and the melee warriors in the centre backed up by their mounted force - all manners of beasts, and few horses, were used by the Fae as cavalry. And on the right their allies, the Daemons, made up the final force - Gabriel Jhaedaes Os Tar at their head.
He wore a very light but ornate armour made for him personally by skilled Fae crafters. Crafted from platinum and intricately inlaid with moonstone, it featured complex and beautiful pauldrons, gauntlets and greaves, and a simpler light chainmail for his torso. He wore no helmet, preferring to have his vision unobstructed, and carried no visible weapons. Behind him, arrayed in a vee-shaped phalanx, spread all manner of armed and armored Daemons - nearly one hundred in all. Calandra was almost equally resplendent on his immediate left, and heavily armed to go with it. Her hair rippled in the smoke-stained wind as they waited for the call. Below them, behind the Fae's front line and mounted upon a dappled grey Legacy, the Fae's current leader in war - a Battle Muse called Rodi - would be the one to give the signal. They were waiting for the Humans to move first, though. This particular battle was to prevent more of the Forest from falling to the fires of the Humans, and to repel their threat in the Fae's homeland. They were defending, not attacking...for now, at least.
Across the smoking field before them a single horn rang out, clear and melodic. The Fae and Daemon units did not move when, as one, the Human foot soldiers broke into a jog, their front line perfectly even during their march through the devastated trees. Unit after unit surged forwards, not fast but inexorable - the Humans outnumbered their foes 5 to 1, at least, and further warriors were expected to arrive from the North within hours to bolster the existing force. They needed to survive that long, and draw the Fae into battle so the new troops could travel unharried now the Forest's threat had been removed. Gabriel remained perfectly still as he watched the enemy draw closer, expression cold and blank. To an outside observer this looked to go bad for the Fae - they were overwhelmed in numbers. What the Humans did not know, though, was how to fight Daemons en masse. This was the very first time the Daemons had provided a significant force to the Fae. Their alliance waxed and waned but Gabriel had been Lord for some forty years now, and had found enough Daemons willing to test the waters of battle to openly support the Fae as a unit, rather than just scattered individuals here and there, for the very first time in Litharia's history.
The Fae were the best archers in Litharia, and as the foot soldiers marched and came into range, the white-feathered arrows began to fly. Hole formed in the lines, men screaming as they fell with arrows puncturing their armour or finding the weaknesses at the throat, eyes, or joints. Still they came though, and only when they met the Fae's frontline, where gleaming Faery weaponry caught the failing sunlight as the day moved towards dusk, did Rodi sound his own horn. Gabriel caught Calandra's eye and the two Daemons grinned at each other with lengthened fangs turning the expression feral.
"Take no prisoners."
"Leave none alive."
They were at war.
The Daemons surged down the smouldering hillside, and it was only then that the first wave of soldiers realised that Gabriel - who had fought in several battles already - had his own contingent to lead. Far back on the Human encampment they still thought only Fae and a scattering of Daemons, the usual troublemakers like Gabriel and Calandra, were their foe. There was no way for the front line to get any message back to the strategists, to the cossetted King in his war tent who would direct his troops like chess pieces but take no role in the battle himself. And even if there was the most effective strategy - to fight during the day, under the brightest possible sunlight - was lost to them by now. As sunset came the Daemons would only be strengthened and into this new unknown battle situation, the King released his cavalry.
Soldiers fled in terror at Gabriel's approach, before he even lifted a finger to kill. He poured desperation and fear into the hearts and minds of the Humans before him, flashing teal eyes sweeping over the soldiers and marking them out one by one. They already knew of the silver-skinned Daemon Lord by reputation - many already feared him before any of his magic touched their minds, though some young warriors dreamed and boasted of the glory that would come from defeating the Daemon Lord. Their minds were quickly changed when he approached them, strolling casually. He cleaved holes in the lines without touching a single person, when they were overcome by their fear and turned to run from him. This was all the welcome his Daemons needed as they surged around him to pick off the fleeing men with their claws, teeth, and dark weapons. The lines broke before Gabriel reached out to crush the throat of his first victim for the day, tossing aside the man's limp body like a ragdoll seconds later.
The approach of the cavalry was like thunder, the ground shaking beneath the hooves of the armoured horses that now approached. The Humans trained their warhorses for the strange magic of the Fae, so although their eyes rolled and their nostrils flared at the Daemons they found on their right flank, they kept coming. Gabriel could not touch the mind of horses like he could Humans, but it was the Fae that undermined the cavalry. The archers tore new holes in the lines as they thundered closer, and when they were close enough the Fae cavalry engaged the Humans with a great, echoing crash of beast meeting beast. The difference was, while the Humans rode only horses, many of the Fae rode fey beasts - great carnivorous dire wolves, strange oversized cats, armoured bears. The cavalry lines quickly descended into chaos, some of the riders managing to cut down their Fae foes, while others struggled with their panicked horses as the Frost bears approached, jaws dripping icy water.
Gabriel and Calandra soon fought back to back, as they were used to. Once his ability to strike magical fear into the hearts of the soldiers was spent, Gabriel took to individual thought plants - grotesque images of the men's own bodies being rent to pieces by his claws, left dead and rotting on the field with flies laying eggs in their jellied eyeballs, their heads mounted on Fae spears and paraded through a cruel and twisted parade in the Forest. Almost every time they wavered, even if only slightly, as these thoughts flashed into their minds. It was all Gabriel needed - a moment's hesitation and he could slip past their swords and drive his claws in through their eyes to their brains, rip out their windpipes, cut their hamstrings. If they survived his ambush it would be seconds before a great sweep of Calandra's sword would take off their heads. As the Human units thinned, driven mad by terror and fleeing back to the encampment or added to the growing dead at Gabriel and Calandra's feet, Gabriel paused and turned to his friend.
"Take over here, and once you've cleared this line check on Rodi. Take Ferris and Odran with you if you can find them."
Calandra nodded, her golden hair turned red from blood. "Is it time?"
"I think so."
Gabriel made his way up the hill, away from the fighting. Through the smoking remains of the trees, and over countless dead Humans interspersed with bodies of the Fae and Daemons. The Human losses were significant but his side would not come out of this battle unscathed, far from it. So went times of war. Gabriel made for the passage the Humans had burned through the Forest of the Fae, a path created for their reinforcements. It was to the rear of most of the fighting though he still had to fight his way through the melee, dispensing with magic to rip and tear with a Daemon's most base weapons. He needed to reserve the rest of his magical strength for a very large and important task.
Once he was through Gabriel stood alone at the top of the hill, resplendent in blood-stained armour that still glowed blue in the waxing moonlight. He faced away from the main battle, darkened gaze on the rear flank, where they expected a large contingent of newly blooded warriors to arrive from the North. These would not be castle-trained soldiers, led by the noble sons of proud families. These would be farmers, fishers, foragers and crafters from small villages, shackled into the war effort by necessity, told it was required. Daemons had no concept of a draft, but Humans often required fit young men - sometimes, also, women - to fight when told they must. Their minds, Gabriel thought, would be particularly vulnerable to breaking. These people would not have signed up for this war. These people would be scared to die.
As the first of them appeared in the distance, their features murky in the gloom, they caught sight of the Daemon Lord waiting for them. They hesitated, but needled by the mounted warriors who had been sent to fetch and arm them, they marched onwards towards the battle. As they drew closer more shapes emerged from the nighttime mist - a crowd of Daemons behind Gabriel, perfectly still, waiting. They wore twisted, beautiful armour and carried exotic weapons full of dark symbolism, the exact antithesis to the perfectly matched identical castle-forged swords given to each Human warrior. Their faces were angular, beautiful, unearthly, and feral. They snarled silently, their eyes reflecting the moonlight like cat's eyes, open bloodlust in their expressions. As one they drew their weapons when the Northmen approached. A slow, eerie chanting took up across the assembled Daemons. Amongst the Humans came a whispering in response:
"The Daemon Lord. The Daemon Lord has come, and brought his army."
They broke. As Gabriel's Daemons charged forwards the Northerners ignored the shouts of their captains, turned tail, and ran. Gabriel did not move as his warriors surged around him, teeth bared, weapons raised, snarling like wild animals. Not a single man remained behind - even the Captains on their horses turned and ran, ostensibly to try and retrieve their frightened soldiers, though perhaps they were relieved to turn their back on the silver Daemon Lord too, waiting for them with a cold smile. And when they were gone the Daemons that had chased them dissolved to dust - magic, a great complex illusion wrought by the Daemon Lord to break an army, and send the reinforcements the Humans had counted on back to their villages without a single loss. His real army remained below, occupied by the Humans from the city - no less frightening, but they hadn't had the numbers to pull them out of the battle for this task.
They defeated the Humans within hours after that. The fighting dragged on for some time, the King sending soldiers turned almost mad with fear back in a few half-hearted waves, only to meet Gabriel and Calandra just as they had feared, backed up by the grimly determined Fae. The moon was high in the sky when they stopped coming and the surviving force on the hill turned and ran for the safety of their city. The Fae and the Daemons lacked the numbers to chase them down, and although Gabriel would have dearly liked to personally tear out the heart of the King who had ordered the destruction of the trees, he knew it was a reckless and pointless move - the King's son had already been born and was safely back in the Ice Castle, ready to take over after his father's death. So he watched, breathing hard and blood-soaked, as the Humans retreated. The Fae were not exultant - they were grieving the loss of a large swathe of the Forest, and many trees with whom they had been personally acquainted. For them this battle was about preventing further loss; they took no joy in it taking place on the graveyard of their home.
So it was the Daemons that did the final sweep of the battlefield, killing any injured Humans who had not been able to flee when the lines were finally pulled back while the Fae retrieved their own injured and dead to return to the Forest. Gabriel and Calandra went with them; some of the dead were Daemons, and after being honoured by the Fae their bodies would be returned to the Tunnels for burial or cremation. As they walked into the surviving trees Rodi placed a hand on Gabriel's shoulder, finding him amongst his surviving Daemons on the journey towards the Mound. He was leading his Legacy, the huge stallion still sweat-soaked from the battle.
"Thank you, my friend. For your support, for your force, and for your solution to the Northerners. We could have survived them, I think, but losses would have been much heavier."
"You are welcome as ever, Rodi. They burned a place that I loved, too."
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Post by Gabriel on Jul 16, 2017 6:55:00 GMT
Gabriel had been drunk the night he met her, drunk and miserable and trying to forget it. She was golden, laughing, the centre of attention in the small dark bar he was drinking in. She wore gilded armour, so intricately carved it told a story, and carried a sword nearly as tall as she was. Honey-and-sunlight hair tumbled down her back in loose waves, pinned back from an elegant face, but most striking of all were the white-feathered wings arching over her back, flaring when she threw her head back in mirth, expressive and gestural. She looked like the Angels that Gabriel would meet centuries later, though not as tall, more avian, angular and Daemonic with a harshness to her expression no Angel could ever carry off. A feral beauty, bright sunshine to his silver moonlight.
Calandra was beautiful in a way that men loved and even though Gabriel hadn't intended to do anything but drink until oblivion released him, he found herself in her bed before the end of the night. What started as a distraction - hours exploring each other, a shared night of indulgence - turned into a connection. Gabriel still didn't know why or how but when they untangled themselves from each other, they started to talk. Snippets of their lives - he spoke a little of Damian, of the trail of destruction they left behind them wherever they went. She spoke of being a mercenary, a hired soldier, some of the wars she had fought for causes she didn't care about or even understand. It wasn't much, at first, and when they went their separate ways Gabriel never expected to see her again. Yet, a few months later when they found each other in a crush of bodies dancing and swaying to a heavy, electronic beat, he wasn't surprised.
At first it was just fleeting connections, sometimes sex, a few days here and there. They shared more slowly, over time; her lack of purpose and meaning, his feeling of being trapped and controlled. They began meeting on purpose eventually, arranging places in Ngar'li or Aestrylis or the Dead Woods. Gabriel was careful that she never meet Damian and Calandra never introduced him to her family, if she had one. Their friendship deepened but it was for them, only. Gabriel preferred this and they grew closer over a period of years, then decades. Eventually, Calandra was the only living person to know how much Gabriel was breaking under Damian's overwhelming fury. And it was Calandra who found him, numb and badly injured and nearly broken, after he killed his father. Calandra who saved his life, probably, getting treatment for the shoulder wound that left untreated would have turned septic.
When Gabriel decided to leave the Dream Land, to cross the portal that had changed from a story to a chance for escape, Calandra had railed against his choice. She had been angry, he remembered that very vividly. She accused him of abandoning her, of not caring. They had spent a last night together in Aestrylis, the silver city, in a room above the water falls overlooking the endless moonrise. Gabriel wondered if she would ever forgive him, then. She promised she wouldn't.
But he'd gone, and she'd followed not long after.
So he would wait for her. When she'd gone missing Gabriel had been numb, unable to believe it. The anger followed and anyone remotely connected to it, even only in his mind, felt his wrath. And yet she was still gone. It was a constant source of pain, subtle but ever-present. Gabriel didn't think it would ever go away, but he did not lose hope, not entirely. Not ever. She'd come across the portal for him, and now he would wait for her to come back. He wasn't going to abandon her again.
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