|Title(s)||The Will of Nihilistic Zeal|
|Nickname(s)||The Blind Blade|
|Build||Slim & Muscular|
|Eyes||Left White / Right Blue|
Notable Features - Blind left eye with mirror like color. Right eye is ice blue. Onyx piercings in his lower lip each halfway to the middle of his lip. Onyx rings line up his ears in full sleeves in various rings and barbels. Onyx rings decorate each eyebrow with two on the left and four on the right.
Typical Clothing - Black dyed scarf wrapped around his head and neck, typically covering his mouth and nose. Tattered black cloak with hood. Midnight colored leather armor covering his forearms, chest and legs. Leather wrapped boots. Leather and cloth hand wraps on each hand. A leather waist wrap which holds several pouches, two bone handled daggers in sheaths at his back and a deck of black backed cards.
Cold and distant in general. Naren has been known to be randomly social at points, but usually just to entertain with card tricks and illusions.
Strengths - Dexterous. Extensive assassin training. Dark magic capabilities.
Weaknesses - Lack of brute strength. Odd social mannerisms. Self mutilation.
Likes - Illusions, hidden weaponry, card tricks, pain, death, piercings, tattoo, red wine, Stygian perfumes, women, scars.
Dislikes - Set, religion in general, heavy armor, Cimmerians, serpents.
A dark clad figure slid his back along the rough stone wall as he heard the sound of armored feet slamming against such stone. Naren's heart beat slowly and his breath was lighter then the air itself as he waited. Naren's dark face was illuminated for just a moment as the patrol ran by him.
"If only he hadn't screamed," Naren said under his breath as he slipped away from the wall.
Naren's foot steps made no sound as he moved swiftly through the dark hall ways of the manor. It was near impossible to spot the Stygian cloaked completely in midnight leather. A long black cloak cascaded behind the figure as he stalked the patrol that passed. Naren's very hair was raven colored down to the root. Steady hands grasped the handles of the twin wyrm bone daggers on his lower back. He was like a serpent as he slithered across another wall. He paused and held his breath as his back met the stone wall again. Naren seemed to mold his form to the shadows as an unmoving shadow himself.
Another patrol passed through the adjacent hall way and he was on the move again. Naren noted that the Cimmerian guards here had weaknesses at the kidney and at the base of the neck. Striking down another would not be a problem and perhaps this one will not die so loudly. Naren looked about him and sprinted towards the opposite wall. His feet left the ground and he pressed both firmly against the wall. Naren pushed off and grasped the arm of a marble statue. Naren lifted himself up quickly; inhaling arduously.
"Stop breathing so hard, idiot, you'll get yourself killed," Naren's right hand shook violently as his dim eyes scanned the darkness around him. The only light that presented itself were the patrols of men carrying torches; for no reason other than to spot him and kill him.
"HERE HE-" A voice sounded out above Naren, but was quickly silenced by the sound of Naren's arrow releasing itself. The next sounds were a blur of shouts and armor clacking against rock.
Naren's feet carried him quickly through the hall way that he needed to be in. Move. Faster. Naren felt the harsh sting of an arrow slam into his left shoulder. A shout of pain, but he did not slow. Naren turned hard and leapt; which caused foot to meet armored face. The guard fell and Naren bound off the helmet moving with renewed speed as he saw the Lord's Chamber door. Naren drew his bow and it burned as the arrow in his shoulder was aggravated from such quick movement. Pay it no mind. The first arrow slammed into the first guard's throat and he dropped. The second guard rose his sword as Naren approached. Draw the arrow now! Naren's arm was moving slower due to the wound and he knew it. He was in range of the guard's blade now. A flash of steel. A great fountain of blood rose into the air as the guard fell. Naren left the arrow he rammed into the guard's eye there as the guard struggled. Naren's own left eye was wounded badly and he felt blood rush down his face. He discarded the bow, which was cut in half by the sword that bastard carried.
Naren grabbed the handle of the door and nothing happened. It was locked. Think fast, they're almost to you. Naren's left hand reached into a pouch and he pulled out a small sliver of steel, which he dexterously slid into the door lock and twisted about skillfully. Naren's hands had never worked faster as he heard the click of the door unlocking. Naren slid in and disappeared from the vision. Seconds later, the door burst open and arrows flew into the room. They hit flesh, but only the body of their fallen Lord who bore two gaping dagger wounds in his chest. The wounds looked as if a serpent had dug two fangs into his body and the flesh around them decayed from the venom of the blades. In between the two wounds was a small piece of paper and all it bore was the emblem of Set.
Naren slowly allowed himself to slide down the wall of the castle. He had maneuvered himself around the corner and the guards seeking their assassin found only blackness below and above them. Naren's shoulder burned, yet he knew it was over and he could rest. Naren exhaled once his feet hit the cool sod of Cimmerian soil. Naren's left hand pressed down against his face while his right hand reached around his back to pluck the arrow from it as he faded into the darkness of the forest surrounding the manor.
Naren knelt down with his pale face in the dirt of Set's Temple. Naren didn't look up at the great servants to Set as he was not worthy in their eyes. The Grand Priests of Set stood over him on the cool marble of their temple floor. Great scepters sounded as they moved against the floor. Click, Click, were the sounds they made as Naren's hands burned against the hot sand. Finally, one of the Grand Priests sounded out as he stood at the top stair of the temple.
"Your mission was a great success, worm. We are pleased with your efforts as is the Great Serpent Lord himself," the old man's dry voice echoed through the sacred halls.
"I live to serve, My Lord," Naren responded in an icy, rigid tone. The voice was dead of true devotion and feeling.
"Your wages, worm," the old man reached into his great robes and the sounds of jewelry on jewelry clacked. The other priests snickered to themselves as he stepped down from one great marble step to the next. Naren could hear the Priest approaching before the priest drove his staff into the top of Naren's hand. Naren did not move, but a long grin formed across his face. Naren's face was invisible to the priests under his hood as bones snapped and cracked. The sound of coins began hitting the sand as the staff was lifted. Naren's slender digits slid through the rough sand to gather the coins. The Grand Priests turned their backs and made their way into their Sanctum of Set.
Naren walked calmly through the streets of Stygia's great capital city. The sound of city clatter was muted out by Naren's ears. He had no eye for silks or silvers either. Naren's black leather stood out here and his long flowing cloak covered him from the harsh sun. Hands worked quickly as Naren shuffled a black deck of cards.
"Assassin for Set, aren't you?" Called out a voice which had never penetrated Naren's ears.
Naren turned towards the voice and saw a cloaked figure in the alley. The man held a staff in his hand, however, it was plain and made of wood; unlike the great scepters of the priests. The man was clad in a sand scattered ebony robe and his eyes were cloaked in shadow.
"Yes, you are. I can tell by the cards. Hm, with a new scar too," the man's mouth twisted into a sickly smirk as he spoke.
Naren's completely white, dead eye with a great scar across his face quickly found disguise under the shade of Naren's hood. Naren tucked his deck away as he spoke, "What of it?"
"Ah, I meant no offense, Naren."
"How do you know my true name?" Naren's voice drew real emotion of surprise at the mention of his name.
"You can learn many things by torturing a Grand Priest of Set." The shadowy figure's face twisted, grinned and smirked at Naren.
"Hurry with your business, beggar. I have no time for this," Naren said point blank.
"Set is no God worthy of recognition and nor are the other Gods. For none are worthy of life. They are all sinners. The only way to find peace in this day and age is to destroy all who live. To make a monument to nonexistence and that is why I sought you out, The Blade Which Is Never Seen. If anyone can destroy life, it is one of your great skills." The man said plainly and then slid into the alley amongst the beggars and the poor. Naren watched him move into nothingness from which he came.
“Brace for impact!” Marcello, a Stygian general, called out as the shields of Stygia met with the spears, shields and swords of Cimmerians. Screams and battle shouts were nearly muffled by the clashing of shields and swords. My own mind and voice was calm. I say nothing and nor do I move as I hear the Cimmerian generals speaking. They knew that this was no force to be reckoned with and they also knew that it would not cause for a great war as the ones of the past. This was simply one minor skirmish of many in the border kingdoms.
“The Stygians are weak! We will crush them beneath our great hands!” One of the Cimmerian generals claimed as the flames of their camp fire illuminated all three of their faces.
“You overestimate our chances. We may outnumber them, but only according to what our scouts have gathered. If you recall only one re-” But this general was interrupted by the loud one. They all looked the same as well, except for the loud one. He wore great armor that shone in the illumination of the camp fire.
One leader and two lesser leaders. Armed with swords and shields. Two will die, but by that time, one will have weapons ready.
“The scout who returned said that we outnumbered them three to one at least and we will use that intelligence to our best interest,” the loud one crossed his arms as Naren crossed his arms behind his back gripping the handles of his daggers.
“As you command, my lord,” the left most general took to his feet and moved into the wood.
I inhale the perfume scent on my scarf. Easy kill.
“What was that?” The loud one snapped his head in my direction, but by that time the weak one was dead. One of the perimeter’s guardsman rushed to the body. Before he could report he was silenced.
The loud one and the lesser one drew their weapons, ‘Guards! Come to us! We are under attack!”
My job is nearly done, hopefully, Marcello has done his.
“Guards! Hurry!” Naren’s dagger pierced the throat of the quiet one as he was the nearest and the job must be done faster before it could be done efficiently. The loud one has seen me. Battle will begin and it is not in my condition. I do not like this.
The loud one swings his sword downward and I parry the blow, but he is very strong. I hear the foot steps of guards coming in the tall grass. I have at most twenty seconds to kill him. The general looked at me with intense eyes of red. I can only look back with one ice blue eye and one dead white orb. He grins as he sees my scarf falls away from my eye to expose it. He knows I am mortal.
My off hand dagger slams into his kidney, but he does not have the gap in armor that the others do. My dagger shatters as I am knocked back several feet by a heavy shield. I fall onto my back and slid a few more feet. I leap to my feet gripping my daggers with fourteen seconds to kill. He approaches as I do as well. I leap into the air and my feet meet his shield with enough force to knock him back. His back slams against a tree with eleven seconds to kill. I throw my dagger and it reaches it’s mark under his left arm which was only risen due to my blow. He screams and charges with his sword in the air. I can only parry the blow again and my free hand throws dirt into his eyes. I am not perfect and his blade slips away from my own and my bicep is cut slightly. He staggers and my blade meets his exposed throat. I could tell that he tried to move his shield in front of him, but my dagger was lodged in between the bones. He could not defend himself and died with only five seconds to spare. I am gone and they are without guidance. We have won the battle on my end.
Marcello and I shook hands briefly after the battle. I rarely spoke to the man, but it was my duty to kill for him as a scout at times. I moved into the darkness of the forest and only looked back for a moment to watch the bodies burn. A familiar scent and sight which I take great delight in.
They say that my eye reflects what I see into the eyes of those who look upon it. With that in mind, I bear at all times that those I murder not only see my eye; but their own face as they breathe their last. I take great satisfaction in that. Great satisfaction as I build a monument to nothingness. I turn towards the flame again and see nothingness in it. I do not see Set.
With a small smirk on my lips, I turn towards the Stygian camp and grip a hold of the hilt of my dagger. I inhale the sweet scent of my scarf that she left to me. My fingers tighten around the leather hilt as the blade drives into Marcello’s spine. I am the Traitor.
Sybil's little hands reached out and she dabbed her fingers in her mothers perfume. Sybil dabbed the perfume all over her little face. The eight year old Stygian girl stood on top of a lavish ottoman as she played with the oils, perfumes and fragrances. Sunlight rained through the massive window across the room which made her complexion glow. The girl's pale face was accented by the charcoal make-ups that she learned to apply nearly after she could walk. Such was the life of an upper class Stygian girl.
"Young lady," her personal guard, Marcello, bowed as he opened the door to her grand chamber.
"Yes, Marcello?" Sybil said looking to Marcello via the reflection in the mirror.
"Your father will be in shortly," he bowed and closed the door.
The young girl was dressed in a red silk which was trimmed in a golden hem. A silken waist wrap held her dress together with long tassels dancing around her waist. The door opened slowly and Sybil turned to hop off of the ottoman.
"Daddy!" Sybil ran to her father with open arms as she saw him enter the room.
Her father was a tall man with a great booming voice. His skin was pale and his hair was as black as the midnight sky of Stygian. The man was balding, but his hair was braided in long locks that reached past his shoulders. He was dressed in a night robe of lavender as he had just awoken. In is right hand, he held an adult size crimson cloak with black trim. Sybil wrapped her arms around her father's legs and embraced them. Her father scooped her up into his left arm and they kissed.
"Good morning, my little Sybil," he smiled softly at her, causing more wrinkles on his aged face.
"Good morning, Daddy," she hugged his head and kissed his nose with a giggle.
"This is for you, my little Sybil, it was your mother's," he added.
"Mommy's?" Sybil said as she curiously reached out and ran her tiny fingers over the cloak.
"Yes, I want you to wear it today while you go to the market with Nana," he put the cloak on top of her head and then set her down.
Sybil tossed the cloak over her shoulders and clasped the cloak around her neck with the golden family seal on it. Sybil giggled as she grabbed her pouch of coins and prepared herself for the day of shopping. Her father made his way over to her bed to sit at the edge of it.
"Your mother was wearing that cloak the day we met. I had the clasp replaced with our family's seal, little Sybil." He said clasping his hands together.
"I love it, Daddy," Sybil said as her fingers moved over the seal once again. Sybil fastened the coin purse to her belt as she moved to her father.
The two embraced and Sybil then made her way to the servant's quarters. Sybil's small eyes wandered around the great halls of her family's manor. Servants were hanging new tapestries and moving about to prepare meals among other daily activities. Sybil stopped at the servant's quarters and knocked on the door of her Nana's room. A woman of leathery dark skin smiled as she slid out from around the slightly opened door. The woman wore clothing of linen and had nothing very noteable about her at all. Sybil's great green eyes widened as her Nana took her hand.
"Nana, how are you?" Sybil smiled happily as she began to skip.
"Oh, I'm well, Young Lady," the elderly Stygian said softly as she took the young noble's hand into hers.
The two made their way out of the manor and spoke of woman things. They spoke of silks, perfumes, horses and things of beauty that Sybil may buy with her grand purse of coins. Amongst the commoners, Sybil stuck out. She received bows from many as she browsed such goods. Nana looked about at things as well as she rarely was allowed to leave the manor and it was as much a trip for Sybil as it was for Nana. Sybil stopped as she saw her friend and ran to him.
"Naren!" She called out and ran to him.
The little Stygian boy raised his head from the bench that he was laying on. He smiled softly and waved to her as she made her way to him. He was clad in black and brown dirty rags of linen and cloth. Long dirty black hair draped beyond his shoulders as he stood up. Nana followed closely behind Sybil and stopped as she greeted the little street vagabond. Nana looked at the two with a faint smile across her leathery lips. She knew that she shouldn't allow Sybil to fraternize with commoners, but he made her smile.
"Hello, Sybil, I got this for you," Naren held out an apple that had several dents on it and was slightly beyond it's eating days.
Sybil smiled widely and took the apple with a nod, "Thank you, Naren. How have you been?"
"I'm all right. Do you want to play?" Naren smiled wide.
"I would love to," Sybil pulled out a small pouch of glass marbles.
The two children played for about an hour before Nana gave Sybil a tap on the shoulder, "It's time to go, Young Lady."
Sybil began to pick up her marbles and Naren helped her pick up.
"I'm glad that you came today, Sybil," Naren smiled at her and gave her a tiny kiss on her cheek.
"You have a good heart, Naren," Sybil stood up and embraced Naren.
The two separated as Nana escorted the young noble back to her manor. The day continued as normal that day between bathing and meals. Sybil took to her studies and did some art work as she normally would. Night fell as it usually would and the young Lady fell asleep easily that night.
Havoc called out as guards armored feet was heard through the halls. Sybil sat up in bed and looked at the light from under her door. She held the warm blanket up to her face as she heard screams of battle outside her door. She heard Marcello screaming orders, but it faded as did the sounds of battle. It sounded like they were moving towards her father's chamber. The door burst open and the little girl reached towards her night stand for her cloak. She pulled the cloak to her body as she wept. She was yanked from her bed and a black clad man with no face threw her over his shoulder. The girl's marbles fell from her night stand and the bag fell. A shattering sound was audible, but only she heard it. She could only cry and hold her cloak against her body as she was carried out from the manor. As she was helplessly carried, she saw the servants dying and being raped. There were many of the black clad men here and Sybil didn't know who they were.
Sybil was bound and gagged before leaving the manor. The men moved quickly through the abandoned streets. Sybil still held the cloak close to her, but it snagged on a loose nail on one of the near by door ways. A long piece of the cloth ripped down the length of the cloak and Sybil never saw it again. She didn't see many things. She didn't see herself age as she thought she would have. She matured as a slave, a play thing, a work horse. The cloak with her all the while to keep her company and to remind her of a happier time. The woman knew that she would never reach her old status again, but more painful then anything...she knew that everything she held dear was gone.
It had been a long while since Naren had walked the roads of Stygia during the day. Naren's armor and clothing remained much the same as it always had. Midnight leather armor and clothing donned as the sun beat down on him. No weapons were visible as usual, but he did have a medium sized sack slung over his shoulder.
"Hm, beautiful day...", Naren thought.
Naren did perk a brow though as a traveler came his way. This was no ordinary traveler as he quickly noticed. It was a Cimmerian with an escort of undead. Naren allowed his lips to twist into a small smirk as he looked about.
"A path....nothing on either side of me....desert.....Hm, this does not bode well.", Naren thought.
They approached each other with nothing else in sight. Airuz, the warrior, stood in the path and he moved his hand back to his sword. Naren paused at that moment. They were fifteen feet apart....A good distance.
Airuz grinned widely, "Traveler, I offer you a chance at redemption. You may become a producer or remain a parasite....Give me your answer."
Naren remained standing though he dropped the sack and set his hands behind his back; slightly crouching......
"This is your last chance. Silence only confirms your guilt, worm! Heresy will not be accepted." Airuz drew his massive claymore from his back with a snarl and charged. Airuz thrust forward with his sword and lunged at a near unimaginable speed.
"Too fast!", Naren thought.
Airuz's blade cut directly through Naren's hood; ripping away the leather. Naren stumbled back, but the assault continued. Airuz laughed heartily as his claymore cut away a large chunk of Naren's long raven hair with his second cut. Wide eyed, Naren watched as the claymore slammed into the ground right next to his head. Naren was able to roll away and regain his poise for a mere moment. In that small moment, Naren threw his cloak towards Airuz and that gave him the small suprise he needed. Cloth hit Airuz in the face and blinded him for a moment. Airuz's immediate instinct was to swing in front of himself, yet he hit nothing. Naren was far too clever to attack from the front; Naren's off hand struck its mark right under Airuz's right arm.
"Parasitic scum!" Airuz shouted with hellish fury as his weapon sunk into the ground. With teeth clenched, Airuz gripped the hilt with his left hand and began to swing at Naren with near equally accurate and bull-like strokes.
"Amazing....He wields the sword with equal ease in both hands.....or in one.", Naren thought. Naren's dexterous body dodging the next blow by simply raising his leg into the air. The second swing was lower this time...Much lower....Naren sliding under the next blow as he saw his reflection in the glimmering sword. Naren's foot hit a stone hidden by sand and twisted his right ankle as he stumbled.
"Not good.", Naren thought.
Steel hit Naren in the back as he stumbled forward and fell head over heels. The beast of a Cimmerian had planted a perfect shoulder into the spine of the Stygian. Naren slowly rose up to his feet, obviously favoring his right ankle as he looked back with narrowed eyes at Airuz.
"Powerful...Fast...Hardy.... I'm still smarter....I hope...", Naren thought.
"Slay him now! Minions!" Airuz shrieked as his sword slammed into the sand and rose with god-like and near unstoppable attacks. Both skeletons cackled as they marched towards the fight with swords raised. They were slow approaching, which gave Naren a few moments to study them. Naren's attention needed to be spread, though it didn't work to his advantage as Airuz crushed Naren's rib cage with another relentless shoulder rush. Blood spat from Naren's mouth right onto the Cimmerian's face.
"This is it.", Naren thought.
The swords of the skeletons rose and fell in simple motions. Nothing as complex as Airuz was able to accomplish and this was Naren's advantage. Naren followed the Skeletons' motions and with a quick roll to the right side; both skeletons' swords slammed into Airuz's shoulders. Both blades stuck in his shoulders as blood trickled from the gauntlets.
Naren's eye shifting slightly to the side as he saw the same cloaked man applauding the scene....
Airuz growling as he raised up to his feet. The Cimmerian still standing despite two blades lodged in his shoulders. With a small grunt, the Cimmerian and removed both of the swords from his shoulders.
"This man is far wiser then you, Airuz and was able to use it well beyond normal comprehension. He studied the attack patterns and was able to judge the path of each of their blades.....Though, you may be stronger physically and have more knowledge of battle tactics.....I am Kyzal...you will get to know me more here in the next couple of days. And you have just met Airuz...my Might. However, you Naren...you will become My Will. The Will of Zeal."
"Only now, at the end, do you understand," Naren spoke softly from under his scarf with a sick sly smirk across pale lips.
Flesh ripped as the dagger was violently retracted. A large string of blood flew from the Scion of Set's neck as he fell on to is back. The only sound he could make was gagging and choking as his lungs filled with his blood. The shadow clad figure stood there for a long moment, like a statue, just watching.
"You have been judged, swiftly and justly."
Soft foot steps, nearly inaudible, caused Naren to turn around.
"Master Naren," Endus Sul replied as he knelt to the floor with bloodied daggers in his hands.
"You have completed your task, no doubt," Naren spoke out in dull tones.
The youth rose to his feet, "I dare not return with failure to speak of, My Master."
Two shadows, ever vigilant, stalked along great pillars and raven colored walls. Each shadow moved to compliment the other. Never did they leave each other's sight and never were they unaided. If a guard saw one, he did not get the opportunity to alert the others. If a wall was too high, the other would lower rope. Like a finely tuned machine, Endus Sul and Naren, The Blind Blade had become the beginning of the Vigilant.
Heavy breath fell from Naren’s lips as his gaze slowly slid towards Kyzal and Dordrius. Time had slowed its pace as warm blood flowed freely down Naren’s brow. Kyzal donning his heavy chain mail with spiked mace and shield as he zealously battled the cannibals that surrounded them. Dordrius did not stop his onslaught, despite his evident wounds.
Stalagmites hung over shadowing the torchlight that barely kept the cavern of cannibals illuminated. The three zealots were heavily out numbered, despite already having killed over a dozen of the savages. One of the cannibals stood out amongst the others. He towered above all others and donned full Mammoth bone armor. He was grotesque and missing his left arm from the elbow down. In place of an arm was a battle-axe, which seems to have just been shoved into the wound and made to seal around it. Blood and puss dripped from the unsealing wound, yet it seemed to not even affect this behemoth.
“Why have you come?” The mammoth snarled from under the shadows of his bone crown.
“We are here….Completing a goal.” Kyzal near shouted as usual. Naren remained quiet and on guard with daggers held in front of his chest. Dordrius’ great sword began to weigh on his muscles, but he dare not show it as he held it high and proud.
“What goal do you claim to complete, outsider?”
“You will address me as Lord Kyzal, worm and before this is over…You will kneel before me,” Kyzal screamed zealously as he brandished his mace.
Naren’s blue hue snapped to Kyzal’s back as he dove with his dagger outward. Steel met flesh as Naren’s dagger stuck directly through the cannibal’s neck. Steel slid out from his throat as the cannibal fell to his knees and gargled the blood filling his lungs. Naren looked over his shoulder slowly as he slid his other dagger across the cannibal’s neck again.
Kyzal looked over his shoulder as he heard the gargling with a sneer, “Your cheap tactics will not catch us off guard.”
Dordrius gave a hard nod as he scowled and without a word began to swing his sword at the nearest cannibals. Kyzal charged towards the leader as he began to beat his way to the leader. Blood began splattering on Kyzal’s armor as he bludgeoned head after head.
Dordrius’ portion of the fight was brutal and intense. Dordrius’ first swing cut two of the cannibals clean in half. The blade took the first’s head off clean and the second one was cut from ear to ear. A spear from one of the cannibal’s jutted forward and speared Dordius right through the upper left chest. Dordius grunted at first, but then grabbed the spear as the cannibal struggled to pull it out. The large Cimmerian snapped the spear at the point in which it entered which caused the cannibal to fall back. Dordius’ rose his hand holding the splintered end of the spear and slammed it into the heart of the cannibal.
“Not good….” Naren thought as the blood from his forehead began to drip into his good eye. Naren had no choice but to close his eye and truly fight as the Blind Blade. Naren’s ears twitched as he slid his hood down with ears twitching. Two cannibals approached him quickly one from behind and the other from his left. Naren tucked and rolled as he dare not try to jump above the blade given his lack of vision. Naren rolled forward and heard the two cannibals run into each other.
Naren stood up quickly and arched his back swinging behind him with both blades. Naren hit flesh and the right dagger came back easily as he sliced through an arm. The left dagger refused to budge as it jammed itself between elbow joint and the chain mail the cannibal wore. Naren felt the snag and opened his eye for an instant. Naren closed it again as he still held the dagger and spun behind the cannibal with the dagger jammed in his elbow. Naren used all the strength he had to move the arm where he had been and the cannibal took the other’s arm clean off at the joint. With a loud clink, the arm fell to the ground and flipping through the air went the chain mail. Naren’s recently freed dagger moved across the neck of the one armed cannibal.
Kyzal had finally cleared a path to the leader and without a word battle began. The leader swung down hard with his axe-arm and with his incredible strength destroyed the shield, which was made to protect Kyzal. A moment later, Dordrius swung his sword downward on the cannibal champion’s arm-axe and cut it clean away at the shoulder. The champion screamed out furiously as he reached to his side to draw his bastard sword. Kyzal beat furiously at the stomach of the beast with his mace as the bone armor began to crack and splinter. Pieces of bone cut into the champion’s stomach, yet he only grins as he swings his powerful sword at Dordrius’ neck. Dordius would have lost his head had the blade not hit his own sword. Half of the sword spun into the air while the champion’s sword hit Dordius in the head. Dordius staggered and fell to his back as he seemed to lose consciousness for a moment.
Kyzal continued to beat at the beast’s gut as he was far too tall to even be hit in the head. A bloody set of abs stared back at Kyzal as the leader grinned down at him. The beast swung down as Kyzal rose his mace up gripping the head of the mace with his other hand. The beast hit the mace with his sword, which caused the steel to bend. Kyzal fell to a knee and scowled at the motion, though the beasts attacks continued. Steel bent, yet Kyzal’s will would not; each swing downward only inspired Kyzal to stand again.
Naren leapt out from the shadows and slammed a dagger directly into the knee joint of each leg. If pure force of will, could have kept the monster standing; he would not have knelt. Naren quickly retracted his daggers as he prepared to slit the throat of the monster.
“Beast, I told you that you would kneel before me!” Kyzal chanted our triumphantly.
Before Naren was able to finish the job, he was forced to leap backwards as Dordrius smashed the skull of the champion with a massive boulder. Dordrius in pure blood rage beat the champion’s skull into pieces with the several hundred pound rock. Naren simply stood back and sheathed his daggers as he watched the blood bath. Kyzal began to cackle manically as he tossed his mace aside and raised his hands into the air. Dordius slowly stood with fragments of rock in his hands and blood running down his face.
“We should leave this place….” Naren spoke out calmly.
“I agree,” Dordius said between heavy breaths.
“Come, we will conquer the rest of these hills…” Kyzal spoke out after his long fit of laughter.
“So….boring…..,” Naren thought as he watched his target inhale a lotus mixture.
Naren slid back slightly as he lay down upon a several story statue of Set. Naren leaning back and laying down with a small sigh. He had been awake for around thirty hours now.
“Quite a bit of stamina for an old man,” Naren thought as he peeked over the edge of the serpent’s head again. The corrupt official had two servants of Derketo with him. They were beautiful girls, yet unwilling for the snake’s touch.
“Foolish man…..Sleep….” Naren grimaced as he watch the three fornicate for a moment before returning to his perch. He shifted at the top of the serpent statue while staring into a dark spot in the ceiling.
“….If I still had my eye…I could have just shot him….” Naren muttered under his breath with a wandering mind. Naren’s mind shifting to soft sun stained skin and vibrant golden eyes.
“….Finally, the beast rests…” Naren thought with a small sickening smirk across his lips. The priest stood up with his wenches and made his way towards his chambers. Naren slunk along the ceiling; crawling from rafter to rafter.
Naren sat perched on a rafter as the priest and his harem climbed the staircase. The predator watched his prey stumble up the stairs accompanied by nervous giggles. Naren’s blind eye reflected the man’s face with every step he took.
“You have been marked for death…..” Naren thought as the priest’s door closed. Naren took flight from the rafter and rolled across the floor to cushion his landing. Slowly, Naren made his way to the door and paused in front of it. He looked from side to side and saw no one.
Naren looked about the priest’s room and smirked faintly. He saw three sleeping bodies and knew that no guards aware of his presence.
“I will enjoy this…..Take your time…” Naren grinning as he took a few silent steps toward the priest’s bed. The room smelt of sweet oils and perfumes. Naren’s eye taking in everything, especially the open window for his escape. He stood over the bed for a moment before leaping high into the air with a thick needle in hand. Naren landed right on his lungs with both knees and forced that needle through his voice box. The priest tried to scream, but, was unable to utter more then a near inaudible sound.
Both women leapt from their places at his sides. Naren instantly drew both daggers from his back and held them at his sides. They were far enough that one of them could scream and Naren could not kill both fast enough. Mercy paid off as both women shook their heads and just slowly backed away. The priest lay wide-eyed while still trying to catch his breath. A small smirk formed under the mask Naren wore.
Naren slipped his daggers into the sheaths resting on his lower back. Deft digits reached into his pouch to reveal a steel case. A shining steel needle was held between Naren’s fingers.
“Before this is over priest, know you serve a false god. Know that I usher in a new age and your sacrifice will go by unnoticed. You will only be a body on the path I walk that I must step over. Only at the end, do you understand, you die for Tasirath.” Naren said in his cold, monotone voice as he slid the needle into the priest’s under arm. All the while, the priest was unable to take his gaze away from that glassy eye
Both women watched the torture of their former master with glowing eyes. Naren felt their eyes on him as they inaudibly begged him to continue. Needles each about six inches in length pierced this pervert all over his body. Small red dots decorated his most sensitive areas; under his arms, on the bottom of his thighs, in between his fingers and toes and on his under carriage.
Naren’s finger’s held two more needles and his face held a sick smirk. He slipped both needles from the bottom of the eyelid to the top in a diagonal; only piercing the eye across, not in. The priest only was able to moan barely from such torture.
The final testament to this man’s sins would be what sealed his fate. Castration was what this man deserved and it was what he received for his years of torture and perversion. After removing his tongue, Naren forced his genitals in his throat and watched him choke to death. The last thing the priest saw was the ghastly reflection of his death; a comforting thought as he was sent to Hell. Naren removed his head and placed it in a sack over his shoulder. Within a near instant he was gone from the room, leaping from the balcony and into the darkness from which he had come.
Dark rains pounded on Naren’s quarters of the great city that had been built in the name of the ideal. Naren’s off color hues looked over various vials of all shapes and sizes. A small sigh escaped his lips as deft fingers twirled a vial of Black Lotus extract.
“How interesting….” Naren slowly began to tilt his head as his eye watched the mixture of Black Lotus extract and Chill Crawler Bile bubble in each other’s company.
“…..” Naren simply remained silent as he watched his experiments reacting. The extremely rare black lotus pieces being a pivotal piece as Naren rose his finger over the vial. Dextrous digits slowly wrapped around the end of a needle which Naren pierced his finger with. Red droplets slowly began to splash into the mixture causing a red mist to rise into the air. A small smirk slowly slid across his face, “….Excellent…And, now for the final…..piece.”
Naren’s bloodied hand took a small black pouch from his waist and extracted a single purple glowing shard. The shard lamented loudly as a ghastly skeletal figure faded in and out of view.
“What most fail to ever obtain…..The Essence of Soul….” Naren’s hand crushed the frail shard in his hand as the shard emitted a dying shriek. Naren dropped the purple powder into the vial as the misty essence rose above him. Truly unholy powers were at work as Naren leaned back and drank down the mixture. Tasirath’s gentle fingertips slowly took the base of her wine glass and took a small sip of her red wine. Kyzal sat at the end of the booth with his normal commanding presence. Zahla sat quietly across from Tasirath and seemed more occupied by her bow then anything. I watched them for quite a while before I joined them…
I am intrigued by my friend, Kyzal. First, he is the only man that I could call a friend. He is the most interesting man I have ever met in my lifetime. He hates deity so much that I dare say it rivals my own. I admire him for being so commanding aura and his great strength, however, he lacks my superior intellect and finesse.
Zahla, she is a part of The Vigilant. We are the ever watching and the never resting. Her skills with a bow far surpass my own; I admire those skills. The accuracy and finesse that a bow takes is impossible for me to have due to my depth perception, however, she lacks my experience and my intellect.
Tasirath, how amusing this woman is. I have experienced first hand the woman’s desire to slay Set. She has something that I believe is more precious then anything anyone else has and that is great beauty.
I shouldn’t be here anymore. I have something to do…..Another priest must pay tribute to the ideal.
Naren slowly stood up and looked at all three of the zealots, “I must be off….Until later.”
I will only kill this weakling. This tiny maggot that dare calls himself a Scion of the Divine. I must destroy him.
I stood in the shadows and simply watched him for a long while. As I thought, this mixture of souls and blood has made me…..An Avatar….And Avatar of Death…
I walked slowly towards this Priest who was knelt down and praying to his Set. As I stepped, torches in his room extinguished themselves. He rose his head back and looked about the room. The shadows moved towards him and began to envelope him. He would scream, but none would hear such pleas for mercy. For once, in my life, my eyes were the same color….I was aware of the light purple-black mist that rose from them.
My claw reached out and grabbed the Priest by the collar as my face pressed through the shadows. He screamed like a mad man as my eyes reverted to their normal state. He could do nothing as he would stare into my glassy eye. It was then that he saw his own death. At that moment, his heart exploded in his own chest and his body fell lifeless in my hand…I released him and the shadows moved with me as the man blooded in his own blood.
The next sound that I truly heard; that I truly listened to was the sweet sound of Tasirath’s voice as she turned around. She stood there in her evening wear as I perched on her inn room. She smirked at me, “And will I have to start locking my windows as well?”