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"Shatter" Four days, six hours, and seven minutes. At least, that was what a stopwatch would have said had the vampire owned one. She probably should - eternal life tends to slow one's sense of time. As such, it didn't feel as if that much time had passed since they had parted with Pesmerga near the Wind Cave. Yet even despite such alleviation of impatience Sierra was nothing if not frustrated. Tired, so very tired...tired in body and soul. Tired of hunting, tired of watching, tired of lying in the darkness, tired of dealing with the mortals she could not want or hope to understand. And of course tired most of all of waiting. Four days, six hours, and seven minutes - no, eight. It wasn't that she minded travelling with Oulan. Somehow the bodyguard made her feel younger; innocent in a way that the albino had been stripped of long ago. The bond... no, the bond wasn't it. The bond was inconsequential,really. A novelty for the younger woman, to be certain, but nothing more than a shorthand to the soul which develops in the glances of the very closest of comerades anyway. Perhaps it was just the fact that she was there. Yes, that had to be it. A change of pace, a breath of fresh air, something to help her foprget her fatigued muscles and much more weary heart. It was so refreshing to be with someone who wasn't going to end up dead at your own hands within hours. A distraction, if you will, from the omnipresent ticking of a different sort of internal clock. Fifty years, four days, six hours, and nine minutes. Since her last true attempt, that is - though it might more acuurately be called the vampire's last faliure. Storm the battlements, defeat the monster, bring peace to the world and more importantly to her heart. She had been so close, that day. So close that she could taste it sharper than the tang of cooling blood, with other helpmates at her side if not other friends. Would it make a difference, having her fiery-haired sister there to fight where so many others had perished? It had to, it just had to... if she waited any longer, Sierra feared that madness might rob her of her victory, permanently this time. Four hundred years, four days, six hours, and ten minutes. The blood, the Hunger, the dreaming - too long in her personal hell. Enough to atone for her crimes? Not likely. Those were too many to count. But maybe, just maybe, after such a long wait the moonlight would shine down on her once more. The moon was full, you see - a good omen if there ever was one. Did it comfort him as well, lounging as he must be in the shattered remains of a once grand sandstone fortress? Did he mourn for his mock palace, for the dream shattered by a foolish little boy named McDohl. Sierra could but hope so. Maybe, for once, two wrong people really could produce something right. If so that must present her with a certain spark of hope concerning her own situation. Two-thousand four hundred and sixty-two years, four days, six hours, and ten minutes. Longing for the moonlight had been a passion for so long; more of an addiction even than crimson ambrosia. They had all left long before her, souls retreating to the pinprick starlight that her mother had told her took in the spirits of the dead. Nonsense, but comforting. Definitely more reassuring than the cold, dark night that threatened to swallow up Sierra and her sister like the proverbial abyss. Two thousand, four hundred and seventy-nine years, four days, six hours, and ten minutes. A long time to live. More than her share - and most definitely more than enough to put her in debt to whatever act of fate had left her this way. It was time to repay her debts, however - ignore the biting wind and make one more assault on the purveyor of her captivity in purgatory. "Oulan... Oulan, it's time." "You ready, Sier?" "As ready as I'll ever be." It was a good night to die. Again. Oulan nodded in agreement with the unspoken thought. Drawing forth the old man, she preceded her silver-haired spirit-sister up the hill into North Window.
Neclord looked down upon the courtyard as the battlecries began. Yes, there was Sierra - and there was an almost-new face, the woman who had embarrassed him before - now wielding the Star Dragon Sword. He wasn't worried, however. He now knew the redhead as Oulan, an expatriate from Rockaxe who fancied herself not only a bodyguard but a protector of women. He knew a good deal more about her as well, not all of it relevant - thanks to his new hireling. Turning to the man, Renillard Variev smiled. "They're here. Are you ready?" Standing in shadows with his face invisible - to mortals, at any rate - the man stretched his neck, making even his vampire paymaster wince at the crackling noise of joints popping. "Oh, I'm more than ready," he affirmed in a deadly quiet voice. He reached forward, popping his knuckles and revealing a set of weighted fighting gloves. "This has been coming for years."
{We're going to make it there,} Oulan thought, nearly exuberant in the rush of battle. She swung the Star Dragon Sword in a vicious arc, cleaving a Nightmare in two as she stormed up the stairs towards the rebuilt top level. {Nothing's going to stop us.} Two Zombies rose up on either side of the bodyguard, but Sierra took a casual step forwards and bisected each one with a slash of her mystic claws. Oulan stormed up a familiar landing to the top of the stairs. {We're ready for-} She kicked the doors open, and in the dim light of the cathedral level she saw *two* figures. One was the pale and wrinkled Renillard Variev, who Oulan first heard of as the Neclord: and the second- {No.. that *can't* be right,} Oulan thought, taking a second look at a set of features that were all too familiar. Greasy black hair, a long, lean build, a nose that might have been striking if not for the sharp sideways bend it took: a bend Oulan had known since childhood - she'd *put* it there. "Hello, Oulan," Dag greeted her quietly. {{Oh, shit,}} the redhead sent to Sierra. {{Renny recruited some help.}} {{Whoever it is, let me-}} {{No. He's mine. I let him live in Toran, but I think now I *should've* killed him,}} Oulan replied. As Sierra stepped into the room, Oulan pushed the double doors shut behind them- -and used the Star Dragon Sword to bar them shut. "What are you doing!?" chorused both sword and vampiress. Oulan turned her head to glance at Sierra, but never took her eyes off
Dag. "This way, none of his monsters can get in and make off with the old
man - and if I tried to use *him* against Dag, frankly, he'd only slow
me down. You think you can keep Renny entertained for five minutes or so?
This shouldn't take any longer than that..." the boduguard finished, turning
her head
"Oh, very well..." Sierra sighed, moving in for another round in her forever dance with her former lover.
"This shouldn't be much of a challenge.." the maggot grinned, no doubt savoring his former victory. It was embarassing, really.. the way that he laid claim upon the right to wear that smugly creased smile. Time and time and time again for centuries he'd won. And it would be so easy to sleep now, finally forget and lose herself in the embrace of darkness. No. The vampire had a duty to ignore her weary bones and rage against what seemed to be some kind of destined cycle. One more time, just one more time... "You cannot defeat me. You're nothing. I MADE you nothing." As his words echoed through the shattered chamber, it became apparent that these words were far from new. Yes, he was her lover. Yes, he had taken the Moon Rune... four hundred years and he was still singing the same tired warble of victory. Did he actually think that it was some effort on his part that vanquished the Lady instead of her own catastrophic flaw? Sierra did not care to listen this time. It was pointless, really, to put off the inevitable conflict manufactured not by destiny but reality. Was this the point where she was supposed to accuse him of dishonor, then? "No more words, " the Lady ordered, assaulting the Neclord with the same voice that had pushed him into Eternity. It was not, however, the Lady that leapt upon him with outstretched claws. Preternatural agility propelled the albino over relatively fresh rubble and into the arms of her mortal enemy. That she could hear the sounds of her friend's own stuggle through the dull thud of her own body hitting another walking corpse was unlikely. Perhaps he was expecting her to claw at him, slash at him, attempt to rend his flesh in that ever-so futile manner. The fact that she might not be making any overtly combatative movements did not even cross his half-mad mind. The Neclord had learned to expect it, you see.. attack and cruel rebuff ingrained in his reflexes. As such, it was rather more than a shock when his opponent grabbed his neck and enclosed pearl lip with pearl lip. It was time to try a new tactic. The gambit seemed quite clever at the time - use a differnt trick and hopefully at least get Oulan what she wanted. Yet a fatigue-addled intellect was never the best weapon against an opponent already underestimated. There was no love in their kiss; not even base lust. Maybe a shred of
understanding, or some unspoken struggle for dominance, or even the blind
desire to re-enact a faded memory - but not love. It had never been
love with them, and both resembled more literally their own dead flesh
when in contact. After a few minutes of calculated, remembered passion,
the Neclord
Dag gave Oulan a savage grin. "You won't find me such easy prey this- OOF!" Knowing her spirit-sister would need her to be there with the Star Dragon Sword, and quickly, Oulan wasted neither words nor time, instead lunging in with a devastating side kick that knocked Dag sprawling. He blocked the follow-up kick to the ribs, rolled away from a chop that left a web of cracks in the floor, and planted his hands to flip to his feet in a nip-up. Undaunted, Oulan charged again. {Speed and skill were always my edges against Dag - even in Toran,} she thought as she went into motion. Just as she arrived, though, Dag whipped one hand across in a *blurred* back-and-forth move that served both as parry - turning aside her rushing punch - and attack, smashing his glove across her face in a backfist. Staggering back, Oulan spat blood. "(pfeh) What the-" Dag gifted her with a cruel smirk. "Heh. Surprised?" Oulan took up a defensive stance, then frowned. {His hand seemed to glow just as he did that. That and the boost to his reflexes would indicate..} "..A Gale Rune, right?" Oulan stated as much as asked aloud. Dag's eyebrows made an effort to disappear beneath his greasy black hair. "My, my, Oulan... you *have* learned a lot since Rockaxe, haven't you?" he mocked. Lunging in turn, he attacked... ...but Oulan was waiting for him. Now expecting the speed of his attack, she backstepped as he arrived, leaving his hand swiping at air, and slid low, sweeping his feet out from under him. For thirty seconds or so, she pounded at him as he lay there, until a Gale-speed punch slipped through her defenses and addled her long enough for Dag to buck her off and get back to his feet. Now Oulan's mouth wasn't the only one leaking blood, and Dag spat as
well. "Oh, *very* good, Oulan - beating
"You should have gotten a Technique Rune too. You still waste a lot of motion," she criticized. He snarled at her, then got his savage grin back. "That's not my only Rune, bitch," he snarled at her, then roared. "LION RUNE, SHOW YOUR POWER!!" {Oh hell-} was all Oulan had time to think before Dag was on her, pounding away in one of his favorite *katas* - attack patterns learned in training. Right jab, left uppercut, right cross, left crescent kick, right side kick, and down Oulan went, favouring ribs that were at least cracked and possibly broken. As she tumbled back, the world seemd to go into slow motion as her mind kicked into high gear, running through her memories of the Lion Rune - a favoured attack Rune for barehand and claw fighters, like herself and Dag. {They're similar to the Angry Dragon, except that they draw on your magical abilities rather than your anger,} she thought. {They give you half again your usual speed and power, but I never kept one because-} As she recalled the reason why she shunned the Lion Runes, she rolled back up to her feet with a small, smug smile. Dag saw it, and was infuriated. Grabbing two sets of claws off his belt, he hooked them onto his gloves. "This time you're dead," he snarled, and held up his hand to use the Lion Rune again. Two fighting Runes triggered simultaneously as the Angry Dragon answered Oulan's call. At superhuman speed, the two fighters rushed each other- -Dag's Gale Rune seemed to give him the advantage as his jab snapped out first- -and Oulan slipped to one side, going *around* the jab and snaking her arms across Dag's flank to cup and cap his skull. With his pattern broken, his Lion Rune failed and he squirmed in Oulan's firey grip. Oulan looked at him grimly through the red haze of her Rune. "The problem with Lion Runes, Dag, is that they lock you into your attack pattern. You almost *have* to have a kata to use 'em well, that's why they're exclusive to martial artists. And you never did learn: vary your opening move, or *it* *will* *get* *you* *killed.*" She looked at him, his struggles weak from the burns inflicted by her Rune and by her hold upon him; and for one moment, felt a coldness rise in her that matched anything Sierra had to offer. "Good-bye, Dag." Her hands moved, the top one pushing while the bottom one pulled, and Dag's neck broke with an audible 'snap.' Turning as his limp body slumped to the floor, she sprinted for the front doors and snatched up the Star Dragon Sword, neatly shearing off the handles as she did so. "Sharper than anything, aren't you?" she murmured appreciatively, to which the old man replied, "Of course! Now quickly, servant! Kill the vampires!" "One vampire, at least," she replied smoothly. "And *don't* call me 'servant.'" As Oulan turned to regard Sierra's fight, she nearly retched as she realized Neclord was *kissing* her. {GODDAMNIT! This is *my* fault, I never should have let myself be goaded into fighting Dag, and Sier paid for it!!} Anger and self-loathing boiled over, and the Angry Dragon Rune ignited again, sending its flame and aura down the Star Dragon Sword as well. As Neclord gutted Sierra and kicked her away, Oulan charged. The flurry of sword cuts left Renillard Variev a sorry sight indeed, and he cursed briefly as his throat healed. "I *had* planned to be able to throw something else at you, miss Oulan, but that annoying Marley boy came in here and had the discourtesy to kill it. Therefore, I bid you adieu," he stated as he bowed - -and in the bowing, vanished in a column of blue and black. "COME BACK HERE!!!" Oulan roared in utter rage and frustration.
"Oulan..." Sierra rasped, kneeling on harsh cobblestones. There was blood everywhere; much more than should be held in such an insubstantial vessel. "Sier?? Sier, what did he do to you? Are you alright? I never should have..." the bodyguard rambled, forgetting about vengeance in the unrgency of the moment. Crouching beside the vampire, she was surprised to feel one clawlike hand push her away. "No... don't blame yourself. I... I can feel you... you always blame yourself. Always," Sierra ignored the faintly panicked attempts at ministering to a wound impossible to heal by natural means. Smiling wanly, the albino hacked up drops insignificant to the torrent flowing from her lower abdomen. Everywhere... everywhere blood. In her hands, in her cloak; filling her senses with a craving akin to madness. "Sier! He tried to ra..." Oulan trailed off, trying in vain to protest her sister's attempts to escape the callused hands now grapsing her shoulders instead of searching for the medicine Sierra would not accept. "I should have been there, dammit!" The vampire shook her head, almost laughing with the absurdity of it all. "You never needed to protect me Oulan... not ever. Besides it was my idea... I distracted him for you, didn't I?" the whisperings of a shattered voice were disrupted by anther torrent of hollow coughs. "I... I had to protect you. To give you peace..." "Oh, gods Sier. You didn't need to do that! I.." Putting a finger to the trembling bodyguard's lips, Sierra laughed once more. "Oh, but I did. I... I needed to be the Lady again. To protect someone... More of my selfish desires, eh?" "McDohl was a coward, you shouldn't have taken him so seriously. Now come on... we have to get some mega-medicine in you and..." Oulan, now half soaked in the undead woman's borrowed blood herself, was surprised to feel the vampire resist the attmpt to pull her to her feet. "Sier? What are you doing?" "Go," and suddenly there was a different Sierra speaking. The Sierra that Oulan had heard tell of, but never truly seen. This was the model tyrant; the vampire queen; the woman who commanded as if born to the role. This was the lady, in all her cold and heartless glory. White lady had been pure - that was true enough - but she had never been soft. "You know that I can't leave you. Why are..." "GO!" A whip's crack through the ruins, and the dark lady rose of her own accord. No longer weak, though shrouded in the shadows of a dead nation, something new was awakening once more. GLowing, blood-filled eyes and the gait of a killer - the hunter stalking the nightmares of those who paid enough heed to legend. And what the world did not know, what not even her sister cold know, was that she was so very tired.... Seeing Oulan start, the vampire attempted to soften her words and make herself understood before the inevitable bloodlust came. It had to be... blood, she'd lost too much... Oulan didn't undertand, but Sierra had to shout if only to hear herself through the veil... "I said GO!" Sierra snarled. Silver claws, steady once more, gave the
stale air a warning swipe. "Promise me... *promise* me that you'll
run... Run away and never return. For I did this to protect you,to
let you heal. Call it... call it the last act of a
And maybe, through some miracle working of the psyche, the woman who now backed away did understand on some level. "Alright Sier, but I don't promise 'never'. You need to go now, and I'm sad but I see why. Someday, though... someday I'll find you. Or you'll find me. Because we're sisters, you and I. Not of blood or even spirit but the heart, and nothing can keep us apart forever." Turning away, and heading towards a crack in the wall and the proverbial sunset, Oulan let one last remark drift back to the vampire. "Till next we meet... my sister." If only Sierra could believe it; grasp that naive faith in destiny. Mayhaps it might have rid her of a rapidly consuming weariness with life. It was unfortunate, really, that she could never be so young again.
All stories need an epilogue, and this one is no different. As soon as she could be sure Oulan was gone, Sierra made her own way out of the North Window tower, and headed for the mountains, taking care not to be found. Oulan made her way towards the Wind Cave with the Star Dragon Sword, not wanting to endure the old man's presence a moment longer than she had to. And Neclord?
Not more than an hour after the two dangerous women had left, there was a rush of air and blackness as the thief of the Moon Rune returned to his old haunts. He brought one other person with him. "This had better be important, Variev," the visitor demanded in a deep voice from within an equally deep Silver Moon Temple robe. "The traitor Genshu is somewhere in Jowston, and my efforts may be needed to find him before-" In reply, Neclord gestured to the young man lying on the floor, faintly breathing through a twisted neck. "Is *that* sufficient reason - 'old friend?'" The robed man looked over at the prone one, and murmured, "Dag. Well, well," as he stepped over to the side of the downed killer. "Healing wind," the robed man intoned, and Dag's neck returned to its normal alignment. Dag coughed. "M-master.." he croaked when he opened his eyes. "I.." "Quiet, baka-deshi,(idiot student)" the robed man replied, somewhat
harshly. "Evidently you *still* have not learned caution. Now I owe your
paymaster a favour thanks to you. You will help me repay it to him, and
then you will repay *me* for the effort I expend at this task," he growled,
harshly enough that Dag winced, his features taking on an expression Oulan
had never
"Oh, it's nothing you'll find disagreeable," Neclord replied. "I need you to bring one woman to me, and either dispose of a second, or make sure she won't bother me again. Both of them have caused me too much trouble to be allowed to run loose," he explained. "Fair enough. Who, and how?" the robed man inquired, and Neclord's grin grew wide as he described his two tormentors...
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