Rebirth of Destruction Chapter I: The Seeds are Sown
 

One Week Ago

It had been three weeks since Ranzif had located the 'Tomb of Destruction,' as the ancient magi had dubbed the vault where Alucard's Amulet was kept. He smirked as he walked along a lonely path through the mountains. 'With this, I can tap into the power of the very ESSENCE of destruction... I'll be unstoppable. I AM unstoppable.'
The mage couldn't help but laugh out loud as he palmed the amulet lovingly. 'Oh yes... I can already feel the power,' he thought as he continued the path to his home. That, however, would be his last thought.
A moment later a large troll leaped down upon him and ripped out the man's windpipe within seconds. The man was killed, but as the troll started to walk away he thought he heard something, inside his primitive mind.
I'm forgetting something.
It looked backward, mistaking the voice for it's own thoughts and moved over to the corpse inspecting it carefully.
The amulet. I'd be strong if I had that amulet.
Again, the troll thought it was his own voice, for he was too stupid to recognize the differences, and so he reached down and picked up the amulet, but the moment he touched it, the voice faded away... or perhaps it combined with his own mind. Either way, he felt compelled to wear the amulet, and so he slipped it about his neck and then wandered away, not thinking a thing of it.
-----
Elsewhere, the chieftans of three Ogre Tribes were meeting:
"Bonecrusher lose..." The ogre stopped to count on his claws. "Bonecrusher lose FIVE to hu-mon!"
Another ogre nodded toward the being calling itself Bonecrusher. "Me lose many. Me not count that high... hogolin me ask say is tweety. Dey Slaves!"
The third looked at the other two and punched the dirt in front of him with all his strength, crushing a few rocks to dust. "Who-mans bad! Skullbreaker kill! Bonecrusher and Hearteater help!"
The other two nodded vigorously toward the one calling himself Skullbreaker, and the one dubbed Hearteater spoke up. "Me get friend help. Me know orc!" He nodded vigorously once more.
Bonecrusher then let out a primal scream, and then shouted. "WE CRUSH HU-MONS! WE GET ALL OGRE!"

The three continued like this well into the night, until they all returned to their respective tribes to prepare for war, unaware of the man hiding in the brush at the edge of their vision.
-----
Today

The forest beside the mountain was rather quiet. Actually, on closer inspection, it was too quiet. The birds weren't chirping. The insects weren't making their noises or at least, most of them weren't. All that could be heard was the low moan of the wind... and a horrid rasping as the troll dragged itself towards a tree which ahd been badly bent to one side.
The tree's trunk was viciously scored, as though some giant had taken an impossibly sharp axe and swiped it twice, enough to gouge out huge chunks of wood.

Near the tree lay the torn corpse of a young doe. Its eyes were closed, a strangely serene expression on its face... until you considered the fact that the head was about fifteen feet away from the rest of its body. As for the body proper... well, vivisecting it with a rusty sword would probably have left less of a mess. Blood was sprayed all around, almost reaching the head of the decapitated corpse.

Eat it. It's food. I killed it for you, didn't I?

"...Durg..."

Narg bent over the little deer. Or at least, what was left of it. His own memories of the event were incomplete. All he knew was that he had been hungry after eating that human in the grey wrappings, and that he had come down to the forest to forage for food like he had always done. But his usual game - bears - were gone, and in desperation he had swiped at a nearby deer, hardly expecting to grab it They were rather fast, after all.

Then, to his surprise, the doe had erupted in a series of slashes, spattering him and the surroundings with its hot, sweet blood. Narg looked at the deer, then down at his huge, clawed hands. Had he been possessed of greater intelligence, he might have noticed that they seemed slightly... smaller than before. But of course, Narg was only a troll, and he did what a troll would do.

"...Garg..."

He shambled closer to the remains, then picked up a choice haunch and shoved it into his maw, blood still dripping from the exposed flesh.

You worthless animal... I will kill you once I find a better host...

And as Narg ate, his body slowly, but inexorably, began shrinking.

----

"Of course I am sure, I saw them with my own eyes! The tribes move to attack," the stalker responded to the emperor, his leather armor still covered in mud and twigs from trek, and his eyes sunken into his head from exhaustion.

The emperor stood from his throne his face grim as he turned to one of the members of the imperial legion standing by his throne: "Call as many soldiers as possible back to the capital and begin a draft. We have little time to raise an army to put those heathen creatures back where they belong."

Then, almost as an afterthought, the emperor added, "And close the city once the runners are dispatched. None are to leave until this threat is dealt with. It is far too dangerous for any travelers with war on the march... we will, of course, still accept... human refugees."


(OOC: You are somewhere in the imperial city, whether you are drafted or not is up to you, but you'll end up caught up in the defenses anyway)

Deep within the Assassin's Guild, the leader had begun a role call. Tharex stood in the front covered from head to toe in brown and tan cloth, its haunting white eyes being the only visible part of its head. "News from the Imperial Palace states that the Emperor has called for a draft. I of course do not intend to join in this bloodshed and neither should you. Our place is not on the battlefield but within the shadows. May I warn each and every one of you that if you decide to join, you shall be marked for death. The only place we shall fight is here, to protect our home. You are dismissed!"

The crowd started to disappear as the leader called one specific person out. "I'm watching you doppleganger. Don't forget the guild watches your every step." Tharex knew the guild leader was the only one with the power to reveal his true form. 'Though you forget I am always one step ahead of all of you. What you see is merely a facade, much like the forms I take. The power of Alucard shall be mine and when it comes into my possession I shall show you all. I shall become the avatar of Alucard.'

Tharex left for its quarters. Its current form was that of a human soldier it was sent to assassinate over a year ago. But what was strange about this form was a scar on its chest all the way across. Tharex thought nothing of it but at first it was a curiosity.

Only the coming day could tell whether or not it had to fight once more.

Asidhara's mind was awash with the largest sense of absolute irony that she had ever felt since... Quite honestly, she could not remember. Glamoured in the form of a young, athletic maiden possessed of lithe and beautiful figure, the human-seeming fae stood amongst a crowd of foul-smelling, addled draftees. Peasants all, she inwardly laughed at herself for falling in with a human draft by her own mischevious carelessness.

After all, how was she to know that the ogre tribes were to launch an assault during one of her routine self-amusement escapades? Bitterly ironic. Still, nothing were keeping her. If she wanted, Asidhara could simply make herself invisible, fly away, glamour herself a cripple, seduce the captain, or any other manner of tricks that she were like to do. Today however, she abstained from this, for there would be no fun and no story to come from running away.

Her armor was made to look like gold-leafed half-plate, and her blade a glimmering silver longsword. Over this, she wore a tabard with the insignia of the state's military, the suprising cleanliness of which made her appear to stand out of the crowd, perhaps as if she were of nobility. (Of which, quite rightly she were.) Asidhara tried to keep away from the various ragtag armaments of her human 'fellows', of which looked more akin to a young woman trying to keep away from their hideous appearances and the overall poor state of their equiptment. Even past this illusion however, it amplified and exuded a sense of terrible doom, which combined with the already palpable sense of unease from the draftees...

Suffice to say, Asidhara was bathing in the feeling of ambient dread in an almost too-exuberant manner. Ah, the simple pleasures of life...

Among the mobilized was, to no ones suprise, the bulk of the samurai guilds. Those in the field were being called in, and among them astranged Icarus. He entered the guild hall, showing his papers to those that requested it. As usual he was given his assignment in silence. "You will join the imperial forces as they prepare for the assult. However I am sure you understand that unlike most of our number you will not be given a field command. Your rank will give you immunity to the orders of others but I suggest you follow them anyways. You shall be positioned on the front lines as per usual. At the very least you can be good motivation for the drafted." The commander then gave his appearance a once over. "But get some new clothes. For Moloch's sake your a noble. Least you can do is look like one." Icarus bowed and then did as he was commanded.

After changing his clothing he proceeded to where the draftees were preparing themselves. Like the others of his guild he stood with there clad in fine clothing. He hated it, putting on these fancy clothing was a waste of time and resources, one good battle and they would be reduced to rags.

Most of the others were merely poor citizens. However there were a few that were well armed with atleast some combat experience. The lovely young lady which seems to have seperated her self from the others. She was even dressed in fine clothing like his own. Indeed suprising, he smirked thinking to himself 'wonder how long before she and the others flee the battlefield, leaving only myself and the enemy horde'

OOC: Just thought I'd mention "He" in this case is gender neutral. Just to let you know

Anim sighed. This day was not turning out well. It was bad enough that he had to spend most of his time shuffling around the countryside looking for work and finding not so much as a once-off task, but when he finally gave up after one month of searching and went back to the city, their was a draft going on. Had he stayed put for the one month like he was planning to, instead of boredom getting the better of him, he could have avoided the whole rigmarole.

He looked around him. Human human human, all humans! Where were the other races? Probably at some other draft station; I mean this is one of the more humanized parts of town. he thought.

"Lets just get this over with." he muttered under his breath.

"What do you mean, draft?" Grum used the same inflection most humans used for things relating to necrophilial pedophiles. "This is my champion, I don't want him running around, risking my future over some stupid ogres!"

"Ma'am, the 'stupid ogres' threaten the safety of the very city, every able bodied warrior is being called up. The other handlers are helping. They understand that their assistance breeds our assistance." The guard's subtle insinuation was mostly lost on Grum.

"If I die in battle, you would of course compensate my handler for the loss of her charge." Grum looked back at Dagan, her glare thrown off its usual mix of seething contempt into a realm of confusion. Dagan pressed onward, in case the drafters would offer a less satisfying answer. "And if I did die, it would cast no shadow over my handler's record. She would be free of conscience to move forward with a new champion."

Grum darted back and forth between the imperials and Dagan. Her utter spite for one side eventually overpowered the other. "Fine, take the stray."

Dagan gathered up his spears and went with the soldiers, a small stream of gladiators in similar situations exiting the arena area. The soldiers kept their weapons at the ready. "Your registration says that you were a Weaponsmaster four years ago?"

"Four years and one hundred and eight days ago, yes. My chosen proficiency was the spear."

The guards risked a glance between them. "And how long have have you been afflicted?"

"Four years and one hundred and eight days." Dagan continued his stride. "My handler used a silver tipped whip. I've been in control for about three years, but I can understand the need for heightened tension on your end. In the unlikely event that I lost control, the arena kept an archer equipped with a silver arrow in wait. But, to the best of my ability, I promise I will not be a problem."

“It’s Done. After Twenty volumes of complete and utter BullShit; It’s done.” Kay looked down at her own ink blurred hands, sore from the long session. Tried and thirsty, Kay dropped to the low drawer and picked up an number wine, her former “teacher”. He was less of a teacher and more of dirty, glory stealing, slave driving bastard who wouldn’t know the crystallization of fire from freezing flames. He did have a good library though, and the work kept her mind as sharp as any of the swords those samurai used.

Kay sighed and took a gulp, ignoring tasting requirements; not unlike the teacher. Now that he was gone Kay did not know what to do. She had spent so much time trying to learn all these disciplines she didn’t have time to look down the road. Her head fell to the desk. She kept it there until her forehead got well acquainted with the pale oak. She turned her head to the left. Through her dirt hair she saw the broken pistol. She smiled; that’s what she needed, she’d go out to the archery range and let out of few shots.

Kay grabbed her belt and tossed her cloak about her shoulders. The sun was high in the air. One of the advantages of working for the state was accesses to some of the most premium equipment. All across the field some of the most well made arrows whizzed and hit the brightly painted circles. Kay was near the end of the line inspecting her firearm. One of the archer’s took the station next to her. He began showing off his superior aim. Using unless than ten shots he drew a heart on the target.

Kay smiled at the man, level her pistol down the field with her right arm and let lose a fire spell. The target was incinerated in no more than a blink of the eye. The archer stunned in surprise and shock. Kay shooed the cock away with a gesture of her pistol. People shunned away from Kay’s end of the line.
((I'll have more after Dinner))

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EDIT:
“There’s a war clause in your contract.”
“What?” The last retort was said in a high pitch squeal almost a scream really.
The man in white robes unrolled a parchment not quite yellowed with age. There are quite a few things that age well. Wine ages beautifully like the fae. Contracts don’t. They just become crueler and crueler and ugly and spiteful, but most importantly it gives birth to despicable clauses with vile intentions. The only way to neuter a contract is before they are born in the ink, through long drawn out meetings that before mentioned bastard, could not be bothered to attend.

“I didn’t sign anything”
“Yes, but in some of the preamble,” The man in the white robes set his glasses snug on his face, “you are listed as items, animals, or subjects that can be confiscated until completion of acts to be named at a later date.” White readjusted his seat. “And according to the war article any military defensive in origin, in which the first party or substitute is within twenty miles of may be called in to do the duty of state.” He took a sip of wine from the jar. “If it makes you feel any better, you probable would have been drafted anyways. We have all you records on archive.” The man with the perfectly spotless robes jumped out of his seat, and left to the door. “It wouldn’t have been long before we were exhausting our graves for draftees”

“Oh god someone please kill.”
“That’s the spirit!” The door slammed behind him, leaving a lump on the desk moaning and yelling curses at the ghosts.

Unlike those making a fuss of the draft, Aetheor was quite delighted to say the least. A defender of justice, a defender of human justice, the warrior-priest was quite content being drafted to fight alongside humans to defend humans. As it so turned out, he would be part of the frontline unit, the very first to see battle. This was no bother; though young, he had seen his fair share of battle, death, and glory. He did not argue, he did not complain. So long as he was protecting the righteous humans, the proud race and rightful heirs to the world's treasures and riches, he was content.

Quietly, he got down on both knees, folded his hands, and bowed his head in prayer. This image, battle rites being said amongst a sea of ruckus, disarray, and chaos, could bring tears to the eyes of the faithful.

"Heaven, give unto me the strength of many, so that I may defend many; guide my hand to slay the unjust and guard the weak; fill me with your power, your light, and let my Hammer of Justice sunder those who would sully your people. So I beg of you, Heaven, lend me strength." His voice was quiet, quiet enough so that none could truly hear him.

Hefting his iron warhammer over his shoulder, clad in gold-gilt silver full plate, he was an inspiring sight to all; in the right gleam of light, he was likened as a divine being, descended from the Heavens to shield the weak from harm.

He pushed his rounded spectacles further up his nose bridge; tonight, he knew, would be a glorious one for those who stand for justice.

"Come on Thri-Kreen, we need all the help we can get with the city's defense. You are needed just as much as us." One of the two guards in the allyway said. The other one nodded, agreeing with his partner. Kecrik looked at both of them from under his hood. He had found a secluded alleyway in the city, and had used it to get out from under the sun too cool down a bit. But now he had humans asking him to take up the fight again.

"You will not have my help." Kecrik said, clicking the k's in his speech. Being what he was, it was a hard matter to drop such a habit in his speech. It made little difference however, since most understood him anyway. "Too long have I been fighting whatever can draw a breathe under you humans. I have finally freed myself of such chains, I will not be drawn into them again." Kecrik answered. Being just getting out of that arena, he really wasn't wanting to fight again.

"But this isn't for us, its for the city. Will you stand idly by while those Ogres destroy our work?" The guard replied to Kecrik, in a hope it will get Kecrik to at least help defend the city.

"Our work? You speak as if I have had a hand in helping this town. This town is like many others, built off the back of anyone you can chain down. Your people have no honor amongst themselves, they no nothing of tribesmanship." Kecrik replied coldly. He was still in no mood to deal with them.

"Then perhaps you could show us?" The other guard spoke up, a little more timidly.

Now there was a thought. Perhaps showing these mortals how one would defend a tribe, handle themselves amongst a group. Showing them the true meaning of selflessness, putting the tribe in front of oneself. Maybe they wouldn't all see the lessons he would teach in the defense. But then again, if he could teach a few, then maybe.

"I will accept showing you what selflessness is." Kecrik finally answered.

"Good, now if you will just fill out the paperwork." The first guard perked up, then reached inside a pouch, and pulled out a few peices of paper.

"Hmm? What kind of mockery is this? You have my word I will help? Why do you need this? I said I would help defend your city, not join your army if that is your aim. If you still want me to defend, you will leave immediately, for you disgrace your defense with such trivial details." Kecrik anwsered in anger, taking the guards by surprise. The first one was about to open his mouth, when the second one stopped him, and shook his head to signal not to do it. And with that, they left Kecrik to himself again.

Kecrik sighed. Well, he sighed as well as a giant bug-like being could. He needed to focus again for battle, for he did not escape death in the arena to have death in this city.

While most of the city was in chaos, one section of the city was calm. Soldiers weren't running through the exquisite gardens to barge through elaborate hand-crafted doors to find able-bodied men for drafting. Those who didn't want to fight simply hid under their silk sheets while they napped in their feathery beds. This was the upper class section of the city, filled with nothing but wealthy, well connected humans. Well, almost filled with humans.

The Claudes, a long time rich merchant family controlling various trade routes, were having honored guest. An attractive young nobleman who was traveling the world to experience life. He had wished to resupply and rest for a few days, and the Claudes were happy to provide for him. Currently he was having an afternoon nap in the master guest room. However, a few knocks would quickly ruin that.

"Master Gram," the aged butler spoke through the doors, "Lord Claude wishes to speak with you in the library." The old man waited outside the door for a response.

Reluctantly, the young noble lifted himself from the bed. "Tell him I'll be there shortly." He could hear the butler quickly walk away to inform his master.

Slowly he rose out of bed and headed towards the window. He pulled away the curtains, illuminating the previously dark room. Though almost impossible to detect, one could notice that the light actually bent around the young man. If it were to actually touch him, nothing but a pile of ashes would be left on the floor. This young nobleman was in truth a vampire.

His true name was Vlad Frost, a recently 'orphaned' vampire with psionic powers. Cecil Gram was merely one of the names he used when intruding human households. A few days ago he had decided to relax for a bit. He simply walked up to the mansion, then twisted the minds of the household into believing he was a young nobleman and soon to be honored guest.

Vlad turned his head to look back at the bed. Still under the covers was his mid morning snack, one of the young maids the Claudes employed. He pulled back the covers, allowing the light to directly touch her face. She simply stirred a bit and turned away from the light. This is what Vlad wanted to see, as opposed to her burning up in flames. He needed to ensure that he had not accidentally turned the girl. Vlad left her to rest before dressing to meet with the head of the house.

In the library, Mr. Claude was quick to meet Vlad. He was an old, balding chubby man who had clearly never worked a day in his life. "Oh, Mr. Gram, please, take a seat." Both took a seat as the city's situation was explained to 'Cecil'. "It appears that some local ogres are being ungrateful for the gracious conditions we give for their kind. Soon those barbaric creatures plan to attack our civilized lives, so a force is being raised to... show them the perks to accepting human rule."

Vlad grew tired of this disgusting man's dribble. "Be gone." Suddenly, Mr. Claude had a change of mind, and decided that he did not need to bother his guest with such unimportant details. Silently and quickly he got up and left the room. Vlad simply couldn't listen to some pathetic human boast about his fellow pathetic humans. Though this ogre attack was of actual importance. Vlad was unsure if he should leave the city. He was still relaxing, and didn't want to leave yet, but an ogre attack could ruin his little vacation. He decided to venture into the city and see what sort of masses were being formed to deal with these ogres. If it appeared to be enough to crush them, he would stay for a few more days.