Omen Eclispe- a world of fantasy, horror, and intrigue. A place set in the Dark Ages a time of death, struggle and riches. A place where not everything is what it seems and the night takes on a life of its own.
 
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 Night Terrors

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Knightstar
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PostSubject: Night Terrors   Sat Dec 17, 2011 2:33 pm

The shadows though seem to be watching those of Omen. The ones who whisper and ramble of dark things eye every shadow as if it could strike at any moment. Many of them jumping at the slightest sound.

The young man in the grave yard sees the man near him. His eyes going wide in terror and fear leaving him locked to his place on the ground. Soon he is over taken the male near him whispering into his ear.

“Shhh, Speak not a word… For the Shadowed ones watch you and will take you. The city will bleed red this month… for I am bored.”

The man soils himself in the unbridled terror, as the man walks away leaving him alone.
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PostSubject: Re: Night Terrors   Sat Dec 17, 2011 11:01 pm

The dark haired man tied back his hair into a pony tale. “This is going to be fun indeed.”

Through the city he looked he could not find anyone interesting enough. So bore he headed to the general merchants the tailor would be good for a bit of fun. He walked into the shop looking about hmming slightly as he looked and what to his wondering eyes seemed to be there but a pretty red head.

His mind grinned and so did his face. Yule had come early this year it would seem. They spoke she was pretty and very sweet. Talked a little fast… Inwardly he growls. Uh what was that…. Riely uh. Very well. He barely managed to pick it up.

Then he kissed her forcible and crude. He grinned wider at her struggles. Good this would be a good start to my fun he thought. Shoving her off his hands turning to claws in the process the action pulling apart the flesh gashing the woman.

The tailor looked horrified moving about franticly. So leaping over to her he tore her asunder moving back to Riely grinning at the girl his feral features showing plainly for her to see. She looked more delightful with her flesh ripped open.

Before he took action to his cardinal desires he turn leaving the girl with her torn open neck and side.

Creeping through the town his claws slicing through the guards leaving them to bleed out and die to his horrid claws. The smell of blood was in the air and it was intoxicating. One of the guard captians walked near him yelling drunkin words to threaten him. He did not last long. With a quick snap his neck was broken with a further twist the head came clean off.

“Prefect adornment for the fountain I think.” With that he took his new prize and dropped it into the fountain. It was perfect after all… It floated and tinged the water red.

Males are so predictable he thinks, as three move in and start checking for where the scream came from. Challenging him though was a stupid, very stupid move on his part.

Chuckling as he looks down at the city. Blood splatters upon the ground the smell of blood in the air. The sound of footsteps approach him.

“You have sent the city into terror. But what of the rest of the island.” This dark haired man was much more lean and smaller in stature, yet his voice demanded respect.

“That is simple I shall go cause others to be in terror. Perhaps you wish to help hmm?” The pale man turned to face the new comer, looking into his green eyes.

A grin spread across the lean mans face. “I think I shall. I have heard rumors as of late which I wish to affirm. Causing a bit of terror along the way well that would be fun.”

The two nodded to one another their forms growing in size long sharp claw replacing fingers, fur covering their whole body. Leaping deftly off the wall they sprang into action.

The pale one had turned into a hideous beast. He had long tusks, and dark oily fur which patches where missing. He ran first into the graveyard. Sniffing a bit he found a human’s scent. Moving to it he walked up on the man as he was looting the place of the dead. The young blond haired boy (Roman Smithson) passed out. The delirium was doing its job today. Looking down at the boy he knew this would be no fun but raked his claws across his back anyways leaving him for dead.

The lean man took to the forest looking for prey. He smelled something interesting near the corrupted spiders moving to it he came across a delightful sight, a silver fang (Snow). His fur gleamed brightly in the slight light its color was black as night, his form equally menacing, and every inch of him regal and poised.

He challenged the fang. Insulted her right to lead and even that she was a disgrace to her tribe. She took nothing to it. Finally his rage getting the better of him he swung down two klaives nearly slicing off her arms, the spirits in them doing their jobs and leaving her paralyzed.

Taking up her form in his hands he walked with her out. It would do little good to nearly kill a fang and let no one see it. Dropping her into the graveyard he slashed open her back from hips to head leaving her for dead. Howling out his victory.

The pale one came to the graves to see what victory had been one. Only to see two gleaming white silver fangs one of which had three deep klaive marks across her body, and one other young by the look of him.
After announcing how poorly they were following the litany. He left to enjoy himself.

He crept upon the father as he prayed slashing through his armor and robes easily. Snickering one would have thought a man with that sword would have been harder to wound but he left him as he was poor sport. Into the umbra he went.

The lean wolf continued on his way there is where he saw one. THE one…. The one that escaped from the ritual 3 years ago. She was older now her hair was pure white instead of black, but she bore the same family resemblance. He moved up on her certain she would die easily, but she turned at the right moment and saw him. Her breath locked in her throat as she saw the form.

He edged towards her speaking in the language of Garou. He watched as her eyes did not change to that of utter terror as they should. Instead they changed to one of complete hate and anger.

“NO. I will not allow you any more to do this!” She began muttering words of some strange and ancient language or a language that is only known to herself. Her body began to glow a green hue. The plants and animals around her seeming to respond in kind.

Large vines thorny began to burrow into his fur and skin. Such things normally would not bother him but these hurt and caused pain of the like he had never felt. Next came a crow it peaking at his eye, leaving him nearly blind. He howled out in anger and rage. When he could see again the girl was gone.

The pale one in the umbra walked slowly. This had been a fun time. It did indeed break his boredom. He stopped eyeing the figure ahead. The girl was sitting near a water fall, another fang. He was being to HATE fangs. They lacked any sense of what it meant to be Garou, and thought they were better off to be dead than alive.

Even in his large form he was stealthy, but he moved quietly anyways. He moved up to the girl sniffing at her. No not exactly Garou… Kin Folk…. This would leave a mark then… On both her and her silver sword wielding asses.

The girl moved just as she felt her hair move though, the blond locks whipping about, blue eyes met with his grey. She went to move back and quickly found herself grabbed by the arm of the large Crinos form.

The girls eyes went livid. Angry would not even begin to stress her outrage at being man handled. The Crinos chuckled and kept his grip on her right arm pulling her tighter moving his maw near to her mouth licking up her face. The spittle leaving a read trail at its corrosive touch.

She yelled out instead of screaming her hand went to her neck grabbing a cross there. Faith… They always turned to faith to combat them. In a swift moment there was a burning pain in the beasts neck.

SILVER! Looking down at her hand which held a small silver spike. His claw dug into her as he jerked her about trying to rip out the annoyance which hurt and burned. So distracted was he that he did not see her hand reach for a white ash leather wrapped blade.

The blond girl did not care if she could not use her sword well with her left hand, she was damn well going to try. She swung her blade down in an arch. The blade having been inflamed not long before, its enchanted silver gleaming in the light of the umbra. The blade bit deep into the flesh of the monster of a Garou’s arm which held her. She could feel the blade hit bone as it sliced through.

When the beast finally released its hold she gazed into the blade using all her will to force herself into the normal realm. When her body stopped its tingling and the forest was about her she looked at her arm. It was had long claw marks down it from upper arm to wrist. She felt hot and dizzy her mind swooned, she ran.

He roared in pain, she would pay he would make sure she would. He slipped though the umbra and gave chase. The girl ran through the water fall and into a cave. Good he thought, this will make it easier. Blood dripped down his arm it was half useless, but enough to kill the girl.

He saw her crossing the bridge and moved faster she was so close he would have her soon. He reached for her grabbing a lock of her hair ripping it out as she drove off the bridge and into the circle of stones.

He crashed into something. What he could not see. But the spirits that where there saw fit to burn his flesh. A barrier of sorts. The girl was smarter than she looked. A howl of rage and pain. He utter his own in turn half blinded by running face first into the barrier before turning and leaving the girl to the poison in her system.
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PostSubject: Re: Night Terrors   Sun Dec 18, 2011 12:00 pm

Riely (Lillith):

How strange it one when she went to the general store, just to buy some firewood, she would come across a strange face, somehow familiar, but the strangeness came not from any distinguishing feature, but a grin showing on his face, a rare sight in the town of omen, a happy face. Surely, Riely was already a bit enthralled and decided to chat the stranger up, smiling cheerfully back at him in her bright colors, she learned his name was Marcus and they shared short words, before he did something most unseemly.

A bit nervous at the new stranger, she would fall into one of her odd habits, clasping her hands back behind her and swaying side to side. Most likely cause of most of her troubles to come as her back would arch and her chest would become ever so much prominent.

All the sudden he pulled forward.. held her in his arms.. grabbing her by the back of the neck... and at her side pushing her back into a kiss she most certainly did not ask for or escaped. "No Marcus look but don't touch" She would squirm trying to fend the 'gentlemen' off only to be thrown to the ground... feeling a bit numb along her neck and side.. looking down to see blood seeping into her outfit, she was already out of sorts - she understood at once, she had been poisoned somehow her gaze already blurring there was a scream. Fiona, poor Fiona was dead.

As quickly as he left... he moved on.. the only words further offered was that... someone somewhere.. wanted her alive.

~~~

Screams could be heard outside, still on the floor she would stumble outside with all the effort she could muster, perhaps Riely could save yet another person, a thus far unwavering drive to do good. But a small Eirish girl poisoned as she was could not move fast enough to save much of anyone, especially herself, by the time she came out there were bodies everywhere guards screaming, the dead everywhere.

The people would gather, sickly gathering bewildered unknowing becoming pray, still out of sorts she could do little but offer her words as truthfully as she could finding making them sensible another matter entirely. Stumbling down by the fountain she would gaze at it.. something difficult to describe, twisted and bloodied bobbed in it... only after a moment her gaze shifting trying to push back the veil she would realize, that as it bobbed around gored though it, that it was a mans severed head.

The men of the town played hacky-sack with the head. Splattering gore everywhere. For this Riely could offer no explainable, inwardly swearing off men, never could she imagine after this last horrific action that any man on this isle was worth any sort of romantic interest. Always burning, always playing with dead bodies, always hitting her.

...Marcus returned... from behind a man in armor she could not see clearly, her eyes all too focused behind him. More guards slaughtered, more people toyed with... she could not recall what more transpired... a single action in all of it rang clearly. The man who called himself Marcus took forth a shining gem, one Riely had seen before, in her travels there were many such things; he took this gem and he crushed it in his hand, a scream released. The only way to explain this, was if those shining gems were in fact human in some manner perhaps essence? Perhaps souls themselves? Or even tormented bodies brought beyond the lengths of sanity... the only truth was obvious, was that they knew pain.. knew suffering... and Riely had been carrying them around like some sort of bauble... the poison made her take ill, in time she lost consciousness the thoughts the regrets, the horrible horrible reality far too much for innocence to bare so easily.


It was hours later, she would awaken in the hypothecary, being prepared to be buried. The only explanation offered was 'that her vitals became so low that she appeared to be dead'. Hazily ... even a bit maddened she'd make her way to the tavern to serve drinks once more. Mistaking the hypothecary's counter as the tavern, before trailing on. A few moments of standing respite there again, and a voice would enter her mind, directing her to the graveyard. Making an unusually unsound idea, she would head off to the graveyard heading the voice, her mind still not quite together. There she would join with a wolfish companion, only to find a man at the brink of death.

...what happened next should not be recounted... things with wolves, things with breaking of pacts, the masquerade shattered and perhaps restored... uncertainties lie here... the fault of the wolves.... the shadow man Marcus cometh, he taketh... he was only bored.
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