The Pheraxis Saga: Lichdom

"Sounds wonderful."Orrib smirked as he took a few steps towards her and looked up and down her near-naked form. From her naked feet over her soft, rounded calves, to her crossed, thick thighs, continuing onto her thin waist and flat stomach - not even bothering to cast a glance at what was between her legs - then staying at the mounds of her breasts for a moment before finally looking at her face, where her golden eyes met his. A prime example of a woman, along with the touch of exoticism her ears and tattoos brought. Had she been around during his mortal days, she would indeed have been very welcome at his court.

Without another word, the man plunged down on her, grabbing one of her breasts with his right hand - not because he enjoyed it anymore than he would enjoy grabbing any other part of her, but because he could, because he had the power to do it freely - and quickly sunk his long fangs into the side of her neck. Hearing the woman holding back a yelp at the sudden touch and sting in her shoulder made him want to grin, but he was fully occupied draining the Kitsune's vitae directly from her veins. Such a taste - not even the healthiest of humans could compare to the sweet flavour of this Kitsune. Drinking from her, he felt an intoxicating feeling spread through his entire body, weighing down his head and making him want more. As he continued drinking, he kneaded her breast - again, because he could - while he made sure to breath in her smell of Kitsune flesh and blood, as well as a sweet scent of...mainly lavender and...lemon grass. A most excellent perfume, certainly not cheap.

Orrib had started with taking small amounts of her blood at a time, little by little, so he could enjoy her longer, but soon lost that self control and started gorging himself, even going so far as to manipulate the woman's blood to gush faster out of the wounds in her neck. But suddenly, he froze, realizing that if he went too far, he would kill her. He had not taken enough blood from her to cause any severe discomfort to her, but she was sure to feel dizzy and lightheaded by now, and he had taken enough. But his mouth was reluctant to leave her neck, and so he tore himself away from her, gasping loudly and with a few drops of blood following him into the air, landing on the wooden floor. The blood started running from Vixen's neck, but using his powers, Orrib quickly clotted it and sucked the remaining blood around the wound into himself. It all happened within a moment, and within the next, Orrib hit the floor hard, his breathing heavy from the ecstacy of her exotic taste. He propped himself up with his left hand and rested his right arm on his knee as he looked at the Madam, searching for any signs that he had gone too far.
 
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He was on her so quickly, her only reaction was the holding back a soft cry of pain at the initial bite. Once she was sure he was settled and drinking, she relaxed a bit, moaning softly and enjoying the attentions of his hand against her breast, even if he himself was not getting any pleasure from the act. She shifted slightly, though she was sure he wouldn't notice, and slowly trailed her long nails up and down his clothed back as soft encouraging sounds slipped from between her parted lips. She took this time to study the parts of him that she could see and feel, and she must admit that she was a little saddened by the fact that he no longer cared for the joys of the flesh. She was sure, by the feel of him that he would have made a most enjoyable bed partner. A thought absently crossed her mind that caused her to chuckle softly as she dragged her nails absently across the back of his neck. This must be what it felt like to suckle a child, or at least close to it. It was a feeling she would never feel as long as she was the Madam of The Fox Den. Though she loved her Dolls, in her own way, and enjoyed her work, she did not want to raise a child in this type of environment.

She felt when his feeding turned a bit frenzied, but she did not panic. She wasn't human, and she was a Witch, both her nature and her magic would work to replace the blood he was taking and heal any damage he might cause. She did close her eyes as a slight wave a dizziness over came her, but she knew that all she needed was a few moments of him not drinking from her for that to pass. She gasped softly as his fangs ripped from her neck and the tingling of his power across her skin made her shiver. When she heard him hit the floor, she could not keep the smile from her lips as her eyes fluttered open, the golden hued orbs seeking him out, first meeting his eyes, then moving to his rapidly expanding and contracting chest as sounds of his heavy breathing filled the room. "I must say Sir, that was more enjoyable than I thought it would be. A little pain at the beginning and end, but I have found a little pain here and there adds spice to things." She rolled to her side so that she could better see him, giving her body the time it needed to replenish what had been taken before she sat up or stood, completely uncaring of the nakedness of various parts of her body. She noticed the look he was giving her and her smile became a bit gentler, more genuine. "Do not worry yourself Sir, I am perfectly fine. We Kitsune are a hardy bunch, and my magics will help to restore what has been freely offered and taken."

Once she was sure she could rise without ill effect she did so and came to stand before him, her small, delicate looking hand extended to him in an offer to help him stand. She may look the small and fragile 18 year old human, but she was actually quite strong, much strong then a human woman of similar age anyway. "I will be loathe to send a Doll in my place on the morrow, but I'm afraid that it must be so, though I do hope to be able to offer myself for your use again before you depart. But the night grows short and the day is nearly upon us and I still have some matters to attend to before I take to my bed. If you have no more need of me, I will bid you a restful sleep and take my leave."
 
Orrib returned the woman's smile as he took her hand and got onto his feet. "Thank you kindly, Madam."he said as he brushed off his suit. She had noticed his concern, it seems. Did she think it was her he cared about, rather than her usefulness? No matter, he decided, as that would only be beneficial. He took her hand, and gently bent down and kissed her ring finger. "I bid you a good day, then."
 
She nodded her head at the dismissal, and made her way towards the hidden door. Once she exited and shut it behind her, she made her way down the hidden hallway, recasting the glamours that hid her ears and tattoos. She didn't do this for the benefit of her next client, but rather in case any of her other customers saw her. She didn't need anyone running to the Ivory Inquisition about her, though she was already known to them. She had been told that to be of any use to them she had to hide her nature, and hide it well, and so she has. When she reached the turn that would take her back to her rooms, she instead continued to walk straight and after a few feet began descending a narrow staircase that followed the shape of the building, till she reached the bottom floor. She was running a bit late for her next appointment, but she was sure Cal would forgive her. The thought of him brought a small smile to her lips as she made her to where she knew she would find him. He was a pleasant sort, at least to her and her Dolls, and that was always something she appreciated. It didn't hurt that he was a master thief and always brought her the most interesting wares to pass on to his fences, some of which she bought herself. The enchanted cuffs she wore on her wrist and around her ankle had been two such trinkets.

When she found the hidden door she was looking for, she ran her finger along the line between door and wall and it opened with a soft click. She paused before walking through, debating on whether or not she should re-tie her dress, though it would never look as good as when she had the help of her Dolls to do it for her. Her smile slowly changed into a smirk and she laughed softly to herself. She had never actually taken Callawyn to her bed, though he was well acquainted with many, if not all of her Dolls, but she delighted in teasing him, so no, she decided, she would leave her dress as it was. She stepped through the door into one of the curtained alcoves that flanked the main room and slowly made her way towards the occupied chair in the corner.

"My dear Callawyn, I am so very sorry that I am late. I do hope you have not been waiting long?" the sound of her voice was low and sensual as she spoke before coming to a stop in front of his chair, one delicate hand coming to rest on her raised hip, her dress barely covering her below the waist and her breasts all but completely exposed.
 
Callawyn
The thief's eyes snapped open at the sound of Madam V's voice, well-trained vision rapidly examining the details before his mind could even register them on more than a base level. As facts became realizations became thoughts, Callawyn's eyes slowed down, taking the time to appreciate all of the Madam's well-displayed curves. "Not at all, time seems to fly while I'm in here. There's just something about the atmosphere of the place that both excites and relaxes me." he said as he stood, barely concealing a slight bulge in his dark grey, many-pocketed pants.
"But enough sentimentality. Time for business. Your room, as usual?" he asked, arching an eyebrow. There really was no need to ask, it's where they conducted all their business. Well, personally, at any rate. It was good for privacy and comfort.

Entering the room, Callawyn almost immediately began unloading, setting down several small bags of various pieces of jewelry, weaponry, rare seeds and herbs, as well as a few precious stones. Many of the items present were of critical use in certain witchcrafts, disguised as mere decorative or culinary items. "Certainly some of these must be items of particular interest to yourself," remarked Callawyn, sitting down at the desk, across from his business partner.
 
"I am glad to hear such talk from such a valued and loyal customer as yourself Callawyn. I do strive to keep the place to the liking of those who gift me with their money." Lorna graced him with a heated smile as she led him to her chambers on the third flood. His 'condition' had not escaped her attention, but she was the Madam of a very successful brothel, it was her job to notice such things and it was always nice to be shown that your beauty was appreciated. She allowed him to enter the room first so that she could close the enchanted door behind them, and then made her way towards the chair on the opposite side of the desk from him, making sure to teasingly brush against him as she passed.

Once she reached her side of the desk, she leaned forward over the things he had spread across it's white surface, her golden eyes scanning for anything that she might want to snatch up before passing the rest to the fences she knew. "You have brought me quite the selection this time my friend." she gently moved the weapons to one side of the desk "The weapons are of no interest to me. I have no need of such things, the jewelry, gems and herbs however...." she leaned over further, her ample breasts nearly slipping free of the fabric that confined them. "You have some very rare things indeed." she started to separate out some of the gems first, sliding a matching pair of cabochon topaz, a rather large blood opal and a beautifully formed amethyst towards her side of the desk before moving on to the jewelry. She laughed softly when she saw quite a few pieces from the local jewelers shop. It was a wonder poor Demrick hadn't noticed that things went missing whenever Callawyn was in his shop. She hooked a nail under the silver chain of a necklace and lifted it higher so that she could get a good look at the long tear shaped stone that hung from it.

Her golden eyes sparkled as the candle light struck the aquamarine stone at just the right angle as to show small wave like imperfections within it. A Siren's Tear. Very rare indeed. It was said that they were formed from the tears of Sirens who died far from their watery homes, which was why they were so rare. Siren's themselves were of a rare nature, and most did not make a habit of venturing very from from their homes. It was also said that the stones always smelt like the sea, and she didn't have to bring the stone to her nose to know that it was true. Instead of placing the necklace with the gems she had sorted out, she instead placed the necklace around her neck so that the stone rested comfortably between her breasts. She admired it for a moment before moving onto the herbs "Why Callawyn, where ever did you find witchblood, hawkweed and dragonsbane?" she placed the three herbs she mentioned in her growing pile and then smiled as she picked up the only flowering plant in the whole bunch and brought it to her nose and inhaled deeply, then tapped her cheek with the colorful blooms. "Foxglove? If I didn't know that you knew foxglove was a staple potions ingredient Callawyn, I'd say that you put those flowers in with the rest of your haul to win favor with me. And it's premium foxglove at that" she gave him a sultry look and winked, the glamours she had put in place lifting to expose her ears and tattoos. Once she had finished taking her pick, which included the foxglove, there was still plenty of merchandise to hand off to the fencers and would make Callawyn plenty of coin.

"Given the rarity of the things I have selected, they equal more then my usual 20% cut. As such, I will make a deal with you. Make a gift of the Siren's Tear, and I will give you 1000 gold for the other things I have picked and the use of a Doll of your choosing free of charge for the night." as she made her offer, she took her seat, pulling out a small bag of cherry and cinnamon flavored tobacco and placed some into the bowl of her pipe, snapping her fingers to light it. After taking a long drag and blowing the smoke out slowly, she turned her golden eyes to him once again. "As for the rest of your spoils, I will start contacting parties that I think might be interested in purchasing the rest on the morrow. Does that suit you?" she crossed her slowly, smooth pale skin sliding over smooth pale skin, her thigh completely on display for his enjoyment.
 
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Callawyn
Callawyn watched silently with a smug grin as the Madam examined the items placed on the desk. "A good haul, no?" he remarks, leaning back and... enjoying the sights. As she pushes aside the weaponry, he notices a rather well-crafted obsidian knife, and takes it for himself. Perfect for cutting the common rawhide strings and coin purses used by the rich and hunters. And the best part was it fit comfortably into the spare sheath he had.

He slightly lifted an eyebrow when, instead of placing it in her pile, she placed the Siren's Tear necklace on her person, the tear-shaped gem seeming a perfect fit between her ample breasts. "The herbs were out of a fresh shipment from the local culinary shop. If you didn't already know, they sell backdoor to practitioners. As for the foxglove," he added with a wink, "perhaps."

He considered her offer for a few moments. It was a fairly good trade, well worth the price of the items selected. "We have a deal. I think I'll take one I haven't yet. In case you haven't noticed, I've made a goal of bedding all of your Dolls," he stated, a foreshadowing smirk spreading across his lips, "And then you, my lovely Lorna." A shadeshifter and racial competitor of vampires he may be, Callawyn was still mortal in many ways. He had mortal goals. And one of those goals was making all of The Fox Den's occupants moan his name.

"I hope you enjoy the new necklace," he said, eyes enchanted by both the sparkling jewel and the jiggly mounds of flesh, "It was by far the hardest thing to conceal my... liberation of."
 
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"Owww!"

"Why are you such an ass Dyamier"

"Well if you would just keep your damned footing."

Dyamier held out his hand and yanked the young red head from the ground. The two had been traveling together for far too long now, they were entirely comfortable with each other. She was sultry, and her dress and robes were torn at just the right points to make herself stand out more. She had luscious curves that made her hard to ignore and her face was over all petite and almost mouse like, which also held a certain appeal.

"Alright look, whenever you take a blow, step into it. You don't have strength to overcome someone bigger than you ina lock up but you can change the direction of your attack this way and gain an advantage. Of course if versing anyone with half a mind at swordsmanship, you might have quite the issue on your hands."

Dyamier bared down upon the woman with light grey blue eyes. he was a gruff looking man, and a giant of one as well. They both had furs to keep them warm against the cold air. The two had been traveling for far too long now, and they were both hungry. The last village even worthy of coming into had been low on food and Dyamier had opted to leave his portion with the woman instead of eating for himself. He surely regretted that decision now.

"Anyways we need to continue. We can do a bit more practice later but for now if I don't get something to eat I might fall over and gods above forbid you actually have to protect yourself."

Dyamier chuckled under his breath, though his comment earned him a stern glare. The two started into the little village. Food first then then the meeting.

Every structure within the city was much like the rest, only three in total stood out to the two of them. One was a place that seemed to accommodate the male populace of the city. The Fox's Den. it wasn't a bad idea to visit their first, he'd heard rumors about the mistress of course. The next was obviously the great hall to this place, where a Jarl of mayor would sit and eat hardy as his people starved. Dyamier was no fool to the ways of nobles after all. The final building that stood out was a large tower like structure, and to his surprise he didn't know anything about this one.

A little more observation and the two of them stumbled into an old tavern. The smell of fresh honey mead and good scorched pork filled the air and he was probably drooling. Dyamier took a spot at the counter and dropped two coins on the counter. "A mead and Your special. For both of us."

Any place that served food felt honored when a guest would order their special, and Dyamier wasn't too worried about spending some of his gold, not when a new job was right around the corner.
 
"I had heard such a thing, but had not sent someone to check it out. I suppose I will have to go myself, to show them that I am more then just a humble brothel owner, but if the quality of their herbs and such is consistently as good as the ones I see before me, it will be well worth the risk."

A delicate blonde brow arched in amusement as she played with the necklace that now hung from her neck, and laughed softly at his flirtatious words. "What a lofty goal you have set for yourself my dear friend, though I do believe you have nearly accomplished it." the smile she gave him before wrapping her lips around her pipe with a deliberate slowness was sensual and coy, challenging to succeed.

She let the jewel, which had been lifted absently as she spoke, fall from her fingers to bounce against her chest. "Oh I have no doubt what so ever that it will prove of use to me. It's said that by wearing one, you gain some of the powers of a Siren. Granted it is only a very small fraction of their real power, but what brothel own and secrets dealer wouldn't want to own something that would make their job easier." her eyes flickered to the clock on the opposite wall then back to her guest. "It has gotten rather late, only a couple more hours till dawn. As such, if you more interested in sleep then other things at this point" she sifted slightly, uncrossing and recrossing her legs, "Then I will mark a voucher in the books that can be claimed at any time in the future. However, if you feel yourself up to the task, I will call the Doll of your choosing and have them escort you to a room, unless you have set your sight on more rare, harder to catch prey..."
 
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A clap of thunder sent Silvaria across the street into the tavern where she removed the small basket from beneath her cloak, and quickly took a seat in an inconspicuous spot. She'd been told that Ergonia was a place that embraced practitioners, but she wasn't entirely positive that such information wouldn't be a lie. The Skinwalker took out one of the nine inch apricot dahlias then safely placed the basket in her lap, examining the faces inside the little pub while beginning to pick apart the lengthy pink petals. She let them fall from betwixt her long nails to the tabletop and as time went by, her hood began to fall back from her thin face then eventually fell to expose it along with her hazel hair. Her skin looked paler than what it really was in the lighting and her eyes seemed darker, almost brown as she listened to the loud, drunken conversations without real interest.

Hoping to see the woman enter, her eyes would occasionally glance towards the door, but there was no such luck. Silvaria sat the container on the table between herself and the wall, readjusting her cloak so it hung back off her shoulders where a freckle or two colored her skin. It was beginning to become unbearably hot the longer she waited for Lucille to show. When the abundance of pink petals were all plucked from the stem, she glanced down at her mess, her thoughts returning to the three men she saw earlier. When she could, she'd have to use her scrying stone to make a better guess at what happened between them. She tilted her head, staring at the suddenly wilting petals with more intent than before.

Some of them were browning, others were becoming more vibrant in color to a shade close to red. She narrowed her eyes, attempting to figure out what was being shown to her as the darker petals formed figures on the table. A human and a... a beast of some sort? Her lips briefly pursed. It was a canine on its hind legs that had a clawed paw raised above a victim, a copious amount of crimson petals clumped beneath the human and sporadically placed between the two. Blood. Someone opened the door, and a gust of wind blew most of the petals into a new position. The canine was now another being on two legs surrounded by the vivid red. Was it a warning?

Not wanting to risk another person seeing the picture, Silvaria swiftly brushed it off the table. Orange ember lines disintegrated each individual petal before they reached the ground, their remains nothing more than dust at her feet. Her eyes searched the crowd once more as she leaned back in her chair, her uneasiness flaming back to life in the pit of her stomach. She thought about waiting a while longer, but in the depths of her soul she knew the old woman had met her demise at the hands of another.
 
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Callawyn
Callawyn stifled a yawn. "Afraid I'll have to pass tonight. It's late. I've had a long day of making a living off of other people's stuff. I think I'll retire for the night. Put the voucher in the books, and take me to a room I can sleep undisturbed in, if you would be so kind." He stood, the chair scraping across the floor behind him. The little moonight what could be seen in the room was low in the sky, not of a rising moon, but of a setting one. Morning was approaching quickly, and, while he could go a few days withought sleep before it wore him down to much to properly function, he had spent the last three days and nights staking out some of the items present on the Madam's desk. It would be worth it, though- by the next cash in date a lot of the loot was sure to have been sold, adding quite a weight to Callawyn's purse.

He followed Madam Vixen to the room, still interested in her curvaceous physique, despite being quickly consumed by the need to sleep. A room with really dark, sun blocking curtains, or with no windows, even, was his choice. While not as effected by the sun as vampires (in fact, shadeshifters can walk naked in sunlight and be fine, though most don't because of public nudity laws), it still hurt their light sensitive eyes, and made it difficult and rather painful to shift. A swift goodnight and a moment's hesitation as the door locked behind him before he disrobed and flopped onto the bed for a long period of sleep.
 
Madam Vixen
Lorna smiled and nodded her understanding and stood as well, following him out of her rooms, which she locked behind her, before leading him to a room he used often for the privacy and heavy curtains it sported. She lead him into the room and went about checking to make sure the curtains would keep out as much light as possible and then turned to face him. She could read the weariness on his face and decided that she would be merciful and not continue to tease him this visit. She played with the necklace that hung between her breasts as she made her way back to the door, but stopped when she had reached him. She gave one of his cheeks a gentle pat and the other she brushed her lips across. She was very fond of this shadeshifter, his wit and charm never ceased to amuse her and he was always kind to her Dolls so showing a bit of emotion for him was alright. "Sleep well Cal. Once I'm out I'll lock the door from the inside so you'll be able to get out when you wake up. Please take as long as you'd like." with that said she closed the door then ran her palm over the keyhole and smiled at the sound of the lock engaging.

Now that that was done, she made her way downstairs towards the front door and the doorman that waited there. The large man smiled down at her, as she only reached to about the middle of his chest, and she returned the smile, giving his arm a pat. "I do believe, Felix, that it is time to close up shop for the day. Why don't you go home and warm the bed of that beautiful wife of yours." Felix laughed and nodded his thanks before grabbing his hat and coat and left. Once Felix was gone, Lorna walked out the door to face the candle over the door that had been enchanted to burn red and never burn out. With a wave of her hand, the flame slowly subsided till it went out in a small poof of smoke and then went back inside, locking the door behind her. Once the door was locked, she pricked her pointer finger with the nail of her thumb and placed the small drop of blood against a small gem set in the door frame. As soon as the blood touched the gem, her wards sprang into place. These wards would make sure that no one entered the brothel proper, nor would any of the customers who had paid for the entire night be able to exit their rooms and wander.

Lorna yawned softly and stretched, her dress having come completely undone some time ago. As if she had summoned them, two of her Dolls, a girl of about 20 and a boy of 18 where by her side, and she took the arm of the boy when the girl had finished slipping the dress of her body. Once the ward had been in place she had let the glamour hiding her ears fall, and now that she was completely naked, her tail was visible, moving back and forth lazily over her tight round buttock. Lorna yawned again as she was guided to a room decorated to mimic a forest glen, with trees and skyline and other flora painted on the walls and the furniture all heavy, but lightly colored wood.

"I think I just wish to sleep tonight my lovelies...." she spoke as she brushed out her long wheat colored hair as the two Doll's prepared the bed for her. She saw the looks of disappointment on both of their faces and couldn't help but smile. "but who knows what sort of mood I will be in in the morning. Best if you both stay for the night." the boy and girl shared a smile causing Lorna to laugh softly. She loved her Dolls. Not in any real romantic way, though she did have some maternal type feelings for them, but they made her money, which made her happy. She had spent nearly half her life in their shoes, and was glad to be the one running things now and taking those she wish to her bed instead of not having a choice. Madam Rose had not treated her girls badly, but their clientele had usually been of the rougher sort, and there had been a couple of insistence where Lorna and some of the others had been beaten pretty badly. She shook her head to clear the memories as she slid under the expensive cotton sheets and the Doll's followed her, one on each side. She turned to lay on her side, resting her head on the chest of the boy, as the girl curled against her back. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, her fluttering shut as she fell asleep.
 
Crimson Square as some of Santos' inhabitants dubbed the very core of the city, was crowded shoulder to shoulder with many dressed in anything from red to white. Unexplained is the white marble slab that has been there since the city was first pitched as a shanty with a tin roof. There are hushed whispers reeking of an anxious urgency, each heartbeat pounding furiously as more red and white clothed bodies flood to the center. The common ground with each new soul, a small golden pin of a flaming equal armed cross. The Inquisition. A symbol of fear and the holy faith that, like a parasite, spread slowly at first then all at once. The Faith of Ymius is one that has been around for centuries, and like a spark of hope it has blazed in the hearts of many terrified mortals. The inquisition has kept their followers safe. But a blackness has begun to take its roots in the ranks of the Holy Power, one not even the mother could foresee. "Ymiusans of Santos, though you are few you have a voice." A bleak eyed man adorned in blood red raised his grey hands in the air, the crowd silenced their whispers and the quiet was the loudest din for miles into the city. Though the crowd was vast, it was but a minority of the Santos population. After all Santos of the home to the Syndicate.

"You have been wronged for much too long, and Ymius praise on high, is furious. His people living side by side, Breath to breath, with black magick using demons from the hellish purgatory below our feet. It is disgusting that we of the superior knowledge and faith should be disgraced so much as to break even a crumb of bread with the dust that cover our shoes." The voice of the man, Vance Vetore rang out over the crowd, every eye and ear trained on each of his syllables. The man had a charisma unmatched in all of the Inquisition, and a heart of black. "It has gone on long enough, and here we stay surrounded by the filth of the old gods. Our own alleged mother stays locked away dancing in her high tower garden while we suffer in the fumes of destruction and the abuse and physical pain it causes those pure of heart to be near to black magic." He spits the words. Most of the crowd is pale, such words are blasphemy and every single mind is reeling. To speak with such anger against the Merciful Mother is an Inquisition crime, punishable by true death. Some however, murmured softly with agreement. Eyes wide and paranoid as they released their true feelings to the missing face of their mother. "I will no longer stand for it, and each and everyone of you should stand with me." With a brave breath, Vance narrowed his eyes and drew on something unseen before he spoke once more. "Let us deliver mercy to our dear Mother of Mercy. She deserves to rest, her times are far beyond the New god."

Silence. The true absence of noise settled uncomfortably into the square, many stumbled away from the traitor of the Inquisition. The true. The loyal. the faithful.

Then there were those that circled in on those who wore the loyalty of their mother on their faces.

Pale and dark hands caught them. The next event followed in hot pursuit, but in slow succession and horrible noise. With cries of protest and angry words demanding the traitors to face their sins, however the traitors quietly brought forth those they had caught. The man. The cardinal. The first man swore to server Ymius and his Ivory Inquisition. He lined each loyal soul and demanded them to their knees. "Yes, your souls are black. Look my children, at these lost souls. Mother Mercy once said we must eradicate every user of black magic, but it begins with a black soul does it not?" Suddenly roars of approval erupted in the square. The weak minded. The scared. The truly mortal. The inhumane. The criminal. The traitors. Each one cried with acceptance of this shift of power. "They deserve mercy, but not the mercy of forgiveness. We aim to teach, not to forgive. Ymius is compassionate only to the most loyal and pure. His children are his hands, and with an iron fist we will punish. Now my children, you will recieve what you escaped with that whore you call your mother."

Finally the name of the square found its identity, in sync the men of the inquisition ripped those loyal to the mother limb from limb. Scream of both horror and praise raised up to the sky. The cardinal smiled to himself as he whispered back to a beckoning voice unheard in the din of bloodlust and murder. This was not the only night of what would soon be known was the purge. Each week the crimson square would fill with no longer red dress, but with blue. This new faction, The Puritans. On each purge seven lost and five black users would be lined up and slaughtered unceremoniously. Santos was in an uproar, and Yria was flooded with fearful eyes and terrified souls. But still the mother did not surface, and suddenly the island went dark. The great temple shut its doors, and the great mother of The Ivory Inquisition mourned and wept for her lost children. But just as sweet as her tears were, they were bitter with revenge.

A mother could not forgive the killer of her children.
 
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It was largely makeshift, Sitis' throne. Hardly ordinary, though. It had taken many years to find a craftsmen for the job. A Hemomancer, if memory served. More likely a Diabolist. Regardless, the work was much appreciated. While Sites had power in abundance, fear made the blood run quicker and hotter than normal. Tastier. And this monstrous piece of flesh weaving did make even the most sadistic mind quiver with anxiety and discomfort. Blackened leathery hides that had belonged to demons and kings alike made the seat, back, and armrests comfortable, while malformed bones made up and supported the structure. Muscle strands and sinew were used to sew and tie bone and skin together, as well as cover up the bone chair legs (which were still connected to their feet), trailing down to the carpet below, where it was discreetly sewn together, giving an appearance of the throne growing from the ground itself. To the common man, a cobbled abomination. To Sites, a comfortable chair where he took his tea. "And of our spies in Santos?" This meeting was boring him. On and on about the news of the world, boring details of Inquisition movements, complaints of undead seen in the north, radicals within Sites' own borders trying to take matters of defense into their own hands. Admittedly, Romulus was painfully thorough. Effective, but cripplingly dull. They had just finished settling with the petty rebels who had attacked his wolves a few nights before. The Pack loved live meat for dinner.

"Nothing of value or meaning reported, sire. The note said something about zealots in the square and riots targeting Inquisitioners. Nothing new. I sent the raven back without pay and a note reminding him to only bother your lordship when he has something of value to report. Moving on..."

Riots, eh? And against the Inquisition? Interesting. "Our accounts can wait for another day, couldn't they Romulus?" Santos. It wasn't too far off. Teleportation was off the table, but the mounts that were stabled were meant for rapid movement. Romulus looked up from his reports. "Sire?" Romulus understood that the reports gathered periodically were not particularly interesting, but rarely were they flaunted entirely.

"Ready a Felsteed. I must leave for Santos immediately. You are in charge of the estate while I am away. Keep everything in order." Pulling on his cloak, Sites stormed out of the throne room. The castle was getting boring anyway. Romulus watched his master go, preparing to take a much needed rest when he heard and grinned at the already distant cry of "Don't you dare touch my throne, mutt!"
 
Psykano finally arrived at the gates of the Ivory City, this time not flocked by tourists and pilgrims but instead by a panicking crowd of immigrants from the mainland. The streets were in a frenzy, people stepping over each other to reserve rooms in the inns and hotels. All the stalls had their entire stock bought, or worse, stolen. Psykano hadn't kept up to date with the news. Brother Marc did that for him, but Marc wasn't here anymore. He needed to get another assistant.

He decided to go to his favorite inn, the Hunter's Tusk, down the street. As with the other inns and taverns, the Hunter's Tusk was packed with the panicked citizens of the mainland. Shoving them aside, Psykano made his way to the barkeep, Husk. He was a giant of a man, even taller than Psykano and twice his breadth. He was busy bad-mouthing his customers, which was why the Hunter's Tusk never got much business.

"We're outta rooms, ya bums! Take yer bloody asses outta here and sleep out back!" he shouted to a group of ragged men. Fuming, they went to the back of the inn, where Husk kept his horse and dogs. Husk turned and caught Psykano's gaze. "Well, if it isn't me boy, Psykano. Have fun, whelp?"

"You bet, you troll," he taunted. "What's going on?"

"Ya hadn't heard, boy? Ta puritans are killin' the Mother's Children. All started in Santos, I hear. Cardinal Vance Vetore, the bloody frog."

"All these sorry bastards runnin' from them?"

Husk nodded, then turned to shout some more at the visitors. The Mother of Mercy was being targeted? Psykano had to hurry to the Tower. He'd never been allowed to actually enter when they trained him, but Brother Vici would be there as usual. Of course they'd call him sooner or later, but Psykano was an impatient man, so he preferred sooner. Shoving through the crowds, he finally made his way to the Tower. He called out to the servants to summon Brother Vici. He was probably already planning something. Maybe they'd call Eden Light as well.

Psykano grabbed a passing acolyte. "Summon Brother Vici. Psykano is here."
 
Callawyn
Cal had slept through the start of the Puritan Rebellion. He left the Fox's Den to find the nearby Crimson square true to it's name, and stained with blood. Word traveled quickly in Santos, with plenty of mouths eager to spread gossip and rumor at every corner. After a time of sneaking about and listening carefully, Callawyn had gathered that the blood was of the Inquisition, spilled by a group that called themselves the Puritans, which were not only proving to be more ruthless than the Inquisition, but also less tolerant. This New sect would be even harder to take down than the Inquisition- but that was not Callawyn's business. His business was to profit off of others. And so, he would do just that. The more known members of the Syndicate were not out and about today, and much of the city was still. A fear of the Puritans had gripped the whole of the place, once a haven for practitioners and the "Unholy" alike, now the starting point of what was to be a violent and bloody purge. Over the next few days, he had managed to avoid being noticed, and watch a few of the so-called Purges, in which loyal member of the Inquisition and careless practitioners were slain like stay dogs.

Most certainly, once the people of Santos got over the shock of these occurrences, they would grow angry. And where a militia would fail to do good and draw attention to the true inhabitants of Santos, a skilled assassin would not. Callawyn sensed the coming times to be filled with work for his ilk, and plenty of blood for him to drink. Puritan blood...
 
Admittedly, there was some discomfort in riding a Felsteed. No, it wasn't the faster-than-should-be-possible speeds, causing winds to whip past Sitis at gale force. No, not the primal fury of the beast beneath him. Not even the blue flames that poured out of the beast's maw, singing the ground where the tendrils fell. No, no. It was the image that comes to mind when you think about a demon and a horse... Producing such a glorious creature. And demons came in all shapes and sizes. Sadly, these magnificent beasts needed to be kept in a stable, mellowed for their whole lives. Once released, their rage burns so hot that, despite their vastly increased speed and stamina, the creatures die soon after the ride. Pity. Sitis saw the city, and the fires that were licking up at the horizon. "I thought I recalled those people as being absolutely delightful. I do enjoy being right!"

Sites dumped the body about a mile outside the city, tucking the ashen corpse into some brush. He continued on foot, ecstatic as the sun began to set. "The lights with will be so much clearer now!" He casually mused to himself. The city itself looked good as new, really. Decently cleaned paths and streets, glorious architecture for even the common man's home, a brothel on every block, a whore on every corner, and taverns in between to give the drunks options. Oh, yes. Perfectly normal here. Waste of my bloody ti- Oh my. It was only upon entering the Crimson Square (aptly named for this occasion) that one noticed the bodies. Sites had known crusades. He knew ethnic cleansing. In fact, he'd participated in one and instigated another. But this... This was schism. And a failed one at that. The puritans had failed to separate themselves from those they deemed ungodly. He dipped a finger in the pools of red. "Oh the blood's gone cold." At that most inconvenient second, a gaggle of haggard looking fellows marched into the square, likely in search of any survivors who hadn't gone into hiding. Poor them.

"Oi, look at 'im! He's drinkin' the blood off the ground!"

"Ymius, protect us! Vampire!"

"Kill it, kill it!" Sitis rose in indignity. A proper vampire never drinks blood off the ground. But then again, proper vampires always seemed to be the ones that died. Again. "About time. I was getting hungry."
 
What was all this? These men, with their dark blue robes, grimy faces and eyes filled with equal bloodlust and zeal, who were they? Separatists?They had struck down those loyal to that hag they called Mother Temperance, so they were clearly not on their side. Yet they had also struck down those loyal to the Syndicate, with even more superstition, ignorance and hate than the group from which they sprang. As he walked down one of the many Santos streets, each more deserted than the last, he hoped he could exit the city without having to drain some fool of his blood and draw the rest of them after him. As the news of this unexpected massacre reached him, Orrib had quickly excused himself to Madam Vixen and left the Fox Den at the coming of the dusk without drinking as much as a pint of whore blood. The man cursed himself under his breath for not bringing his iron mask that he usually wore while out of his armour and among mortals - black, and formed after the face of a long dead king. The mask was a well-known face in Santos, but none knew whom had been behind it.

"Kill it, kill it!" A man shouted not far from him. Orrib turned his head and saw that he had reached the Crimson Square, where this massacre seemingly had taken place. Curse this maze of a city - he must have taken a wrong turn; this was not where he wished to go. In the middle of the plaza he saw a group of people as fearful and ignorant as you would expect from peasants, walking towards a strange fellow standing in the pool of blood. Why did they call him "it"? Without a sound, Orrib sunk into the shadows, viewing the scene from afar. Normally, this would be of no interest to him, but the man they were approaching was...off. His smell was not...right...not human. What was all this?
 
A lunge here, sever the tendons, strike down on the jugular. Sweep up, kick, pierce chest, expand fingers, pull back, release. Drain bold, shape blood, harden blood, impale vertically. Drag excess blood into an arc, sharpen edge, harden, lash, decapitate. Common, lazy motions mastered in youth. Hardly worth his time. Three corpses he drank from, serving as a light snack.
The last, impaled on a pole of solidified plasma. Fear. Fear, while not his greatest, was a terrifying weapon all the same. These fools who had dared attack him would learn a lesson. They would know Sitis had come. He sniffed briefly, but took in everything. The throngs of bodies crowded in bars, brothels, and private domiciles. Some huddling in fear of the butchers roaming the streets, others roaring with laughter and enjoying a night with friends they'd never met before, and some safely buried between the legs of tonight's lady of the evening. Speaking of whom, he'd heard of someone who could tell him more of this recent event. Perhaps more useful than his own spies. He would take the long way to the Fox Den, bypass the two inhumans sneaking about. Sitis had no interest in fighting the assassin (called themselves shadeshifters. In reality, just blood-thieves trying to infringe upon the territory of the vampire. No real danger, but no real point. Sitis was full and had other plans in mind). But the other... So the prodigal has found the father. Come little bat. Meet your destiny. He cleared the roof of a building in a single leap, loping across rooftops and cobbled streets alike, turning ever so slightly to make a roundabout to the Fox Den. "Yesss. Come meet destiny. I'm dying to meet you after all these years, my child."
 
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Sorrow. An emotion that can fill a soul with enough darkness to tear the soul to ruins from the inside out. Every bloom in the tower's garden that once flourished now fell to the white marble floor and turned to ash. Five days had passed since the beginning of the Puritan's purge of loyal Inquistors, five days since the doors of the temple had been closed and the gates of Yria slammed shut to the terrified faces of both Ymiusans and otherwise. Outstretched palms reaching for the mercy of the Mother hidden away from the horror and darkness of the death that suddenly seemed to spread so quickly. Was this the darkness she saw on the horizon? Was this the destruction the sea had foretold? Never would Temperance have been able to imagine how close the blood would flow, or how many honorable men and women would fall. "Ymius, why. Why do you bring upon this destruction. This blood that is spilled is in your name, but how do you let your children suffer." Temperance's skin rippled as anger took over her, once beautiful pale flesh became hideous and scaled. Claws tore themselves free of the humane skin and feathers grotesque and crimson fell from horrid wings that broke away from their mortal shell. Falling to her knees, the harpie cried out and thrashed at wall leaving horrible claw marks. "This... isn't... supposed to... happen... again!" The words were garbled and broken as she spoke them. A cry from a mother slowly losing control.

Alone. The sea breeze rustled the feathers that she let free, and in the distance she could smell the smoke of fire and the hear the cries of the terrified. In that moment when she felt the cold touch of loneliness and sorrow. She accepted it. The feeling of being hopeless, was truly human and for once she did not feel hollow. Taking slow deep breaths, she brought back the masquerade she felt so oddly connected to. Black oily hair shined blonde once more, fair skin, and sparkling blue eyes returned. "It seems as though I have a made a mistake, a mother can choose to leave her children but how can she be so naive to believe they will not become lost with her guidance." Pulling herself together, she walked out onto the balcony that reached out over the sea. The sky was starless but her city was alight with candle and fire. Naked to the night air, she spread her arms wide. "My children, you will be avenged. Each of you were brought into this world screaming and covered in the blood of another. Now, those same hands who took away your breath will go out the same way. So mote it be. So mote is shall."

The first to hear of the mother's resurfacing was Brother Vici. The general only smiled to himself before he sent out his most recent commands to be taken care of before he turned to a startled young priest. "Granted, send in four of the sisters and call on the chef to prepare a light meal." The mousy man nodded and scuttled off to the General's bidding. Brother Vici made some final arrangements for his beloved High Priestess before he himself was called upon to her chambers. He arrived at the open doors of Temperance's chambers promptly, this made her smile of course but when he reacted to the armor she now wore she laughed. "Brother Vici my child, why you look as though you've seen a ghost." The general recovered, straightening himself and bowing. "My priestess, may I ask why you are adorned in the armor of the Inquisition?" Temperance held up her hand and turned to her desk in which sat a scribe. "There is no time, this paper I give you is the blessed pardon for the Cardinals. It clearly states what will happen to them after they step down from the chambers and take their leave, my trust has been betrayed and I am ashamed that my trusted advisers treat me as they do." Vici Cavanet in all his years was never so shocked, yet at the same time he was brimming with pride. "I as the founder, true and single leader of the Ivory Inquisition no longer need their services, and if so the people of the Inquisition have quarrel with this decision they too will be excused from the Island of Yria and exiled until the end of time. They have a fortnight to make all necessary arrangements. Also, the remaining cardinals will have a public exiling.

Suddenly an acolyte entered the room, Temperance looked up from her general and couldn't hide her annoyance. "Could it not wait my child?" She purred, however the venom was unmasked. "G-general Vici, Brother Psykano is in the city limits." The general looked confused momentarily until the name finally registered. "Alright, send Havad and Rene to gather him." Temperance walked past her general and looked at the messenger. "Psykano... is this the young man you spoke of so... fondly?"
 
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