@Zombehs
The tunnels, despite how dark they were, were clean and dry, the few torches that did light up the stone corridors casting a lukewarm flame on the path. Araki's shadow flickered erratically as the wind howled behind him. Illiserevan weather was acting up once more, signifying the advent of another blizzard. Cold drafts sapped away the strength of the torches, and as the Crystalla continued downwards, they were suddenly snuffed out.
The wind howled, a banshee that shrieked through the many stone hallways. Icy breezes blew from behind Araki, dampening his ability to hear down the path that he had chosen, and the frosty grasp of winter tugged at his cloak, pulling it one direction to another in a playful and malicious manner. Perhaps leaving the door open was a bad idea, or, at least, an unpleasant one. As he continued on down the now darkened passageway, however, Araki could feel a familiar heat rush through his body once more. The pearl was burning, an ice-hot bite felt through folds of clothing.
And yet, that was not what caught his attention the most.
For, before the Crystalla's eyes, in that fever-like state, he could see it.
A procession of spirits, bound by magical chains. Their eyes still sparked with the light of the living, but it was quickly fading away as the ghostly prisoners drifted past him slightly. For a moment, he caught a glimpse of one of them, one who did not look like the others, before she too drifted off.
The wind died for a moment, and then, only then, did the stench hit his monsterous senses, a stench that ignited his predatory instincts instead of his human revulsion.
The smell of a bloodbath.
@Click This @Skyswimsky @Asuras
It burned away his thoughts.
It burned away his being.
And, when everything was burned away, all that was left was destruction. There was no more need for hostages. With a twist and a snap, Erantus's head was removed from his body. It dropped down onto the ground heavily, before being kicked upwards into the crowd. The two remaining guards, upon seeing their employer's demise, attempted to flee, but there was only one exit in the room.
One exit, blocked by the seething behemoth.
Before they could react, their bodies were torn asunder, entrails spilling high into the air as Jacts roared out with feral savagery. In his bloodlusted eyes, another challenger was falling from the skies to meet him. Vibrant lavender hair and colorful clothing made for an easy target within the crowd, and the blood-drenched berserker rose up to meet her. The ground shook as he burst towards the young woman, swinging his Squareblade as its surface crackled with arcane lightning once more.
In that moment of vulnerability, however, the crowds rushed in as well. Like sharks after wounded prey, they dove into the hole hungrily, many dispersing into a cloud of bats or a blood mist. It was clear, after all, that they were vampires, and it was even clearer that, in that moment of thoughtlessness, Jacts may have targeted the wrong individual.
Only a few stayed behind after that initial rush of vampiric transformations. As Benedicta's holy sword cut lightly into the back of one of the men, the wound almost instantaneously stitched itself back together. Lurching around, the red eyes and elongated fangs made it clear what exactly she had struck. The tall, darkly handsome man's eyes stared into her own for a moment, before a cruel snarl formed on his features, ruining that beauty.
"Astopolian wench," he spat, his two other companions turning around,
"You're the one interfering with my procurement of livestock? In recompense, I shall dine on you then!"
And with that, a clawed right hand, glimmering with Talentium rings, flashed outwards, intent on skewering Benedicta's sword-arm. Two others briefly disappeared in the shadows, before reappearing behind, one grabbing at Benedicta's golden hair while the other aiming a bone-crunching kick to her knee.
@Psyker Landshark @Warm Regret @Izurich
The howls and the chittering and the laughter and the dampness and the screams all dogged the rag-tag group of freed slaves as they dashed down the winding staircase. It was too dangerous of a situation for them to stop and help out any of them who slipped and stumbled, and in this desperate scenario, Agatha, Alexa, and Tulian maintained a steady lead ahead of their peers.
But, at the end, when they finally reached the end of the staircase, what awaited them was an alien scene. The stone walls were painted red, the blood belonging both to the guards and the female slaves, their bodies shredded and carved, covered in gore. The weak-stomached ones hurled what scant contents their bodies still held, while others collapsed on their knees in shock. It wasn't merely murder. It was a sadistic…pleasure.
And in the center of that was a red-headed maid, lying face-down in her own blood. Raspy breathing could be heard from her half-torn mouth, but it was clear that she was still alive, if only barely.
