A Promise Fulfilled {Lady Nef x Shinyka}

[Lady Nefrodiel]

It was horrendous. This ability she had to see the future, it was like a curse. Not only could she see the many paths of the future, but had also hidden it away from her parents... even herself, really. It wasn't until the royal oracle had approached her and informed her that she would be her successor. But she had to keep it a secret from her parents, the king and queen of the land. She did love her parents, she really did but both she and oracle knew what would happen if they were to find out about their youngest child's talent. She would be nothing more than a pawn for expansionism and nothing more. Her parents would have her misuse the gift she was born with and that was something that just didn't sit well with her.

The downside? When she had a truly horrific vision, she could tell no one- not even her beloved older brothers. Especially of this specific vision that she just seen. It truly was the worst vision she had ever the displeasure of viewing. So much blood, so much death. It was too much to bear for her gentle soul. This was the future and the beginnings of it would ravel soon- within the week. It all began with the unexpected death of her father. As far as she could see, there was no way to overt it. If she came out with her vision now, he would still die. She would also be worse off because both sides of the impending civil war that was to come would want her. Better to be silent about her gifts than to be dragged into Yaren and Acerbus's fight for the throne after their father's death. But she also couldn't sit still and do nothing. No matter what she did, that vision could not come true.

So Princess Elbereth Arel did the only thing she could do when she had a most disturbing vision- to discuss it with her mentor in these things, the royal oracle herself. And so she did. The royal oracle had seen the vision too, but like Elbereth saw slim amount of options. "The only way to prevent the war is to give your brother's time to reconcile with each other... but that's not going to happen in a scant week, not with the amount of pent up frustration they have with each other and the amount of followers they have. And to do that, we must prevent your father's death. But try as we might, we cannot stop it alone. I have seen that too, all attempts will be futile," stated the oracle.

"But what can we do?" inquired Elbereth, her voice shaking with fear upon seeing the dark future take place, "Is it truly hopeless then? Must all that blood be shed? Must so many die? Our kingdom will be destroyed by this... as princess of this land, I can't let that happen."

"Peace my child," the oracle said to the much younger princess, "I did not say it was completely hopeless, I just said we would need help. I have foreseen one and only one way to overt this disaster. We must summon death and bargain with him to give the king more time to live. Time sufficient enough for your brothers to stop their quarreling over the throne." The grey eyes of the oracle met the princess's innocent blue ones, "But that too will not be an easy path." She couldn't see past the act of summoning death himself, so she didn't know what he would exactly want. But one did not bargain with the higher beings without paying a large price.

"To summon death?" asked Elbereth, sounding almost incredulous, "But how is that possible?"

Those wise grey eyes twinkled almost mischievously, "My child, you forget. Us Ar-Feiniels are known for our skills in magic. While I, myself do not have experience with the dark arts," her tone almost took a tone of disdain, "My sister does."

"You mean Moranna?" the princess questioned, "The very same sister that you do not get along with?"

"Yes, Moranna, that sister. I will summon her to this place and she will aid us in summoning death. I have foreseen that too," sighed the oracle, obviously not too happy that she would have to rely on her errant sister for something so important.

"Are you sure she will come?"

"That she will, I am the head of the Ar-Feiniel clan. She will obey my summons whether she likes it or not," answered the oracle, her tone becoming more sharp, "I will summon her now. The sooner we bargain with death, the soon this dark future indeed will not occur."

Apparently Calanna Ar-Feiniel, oracle to the royal family, was correct that Moranna would answer her summons immediately. The preparations were complex and everything had to be perfect. But then again they were summoning death not just any entity. It wasn't supposed to be easy. Finally, the trio of females were done and it was time for the ritual to began. As they began to concentrate on their power, they waited for the entity of death to answer their call.

 

[shinyka]

It was beautiful. The sun setting low on the horizon bathed the plains in a luminescent orange glow, one that washed over the rocks and grass patches in a way akin to a torrent, consuming all in it's path. The dying daylights were not dim enough to conceal the aftermath of the scene that had since unfolded in this now-since stained land. Blood was awash over the plains and grass, gore soaking the ground that was not already tarnished by bodies and small oil fires, soon to extinguish on their own when their time ran out. And amongst this raven's feast, He stood. He cared little for the apparent outcome of the battle, as the victory of either side did very little to change the current scene. He took a few seconds to ease his mind, allowing himself to breathe in the bloody and cursed air. To him, the scent of blood, the sight of gore stained fields, the sound steel made when piercing flesh all carried near orgasmic qualities. It reminded him that He still existed, it reminded him that He still had meaning left to fulfill.

He no longer had a name, nor a true identity. It seemed that in one long past era, He was somebody, a being with a name and identity, present although invisible, respected and commended although also feared. Yet, it seemed these old ways had passed, and He was no longer a silent man to be the object of songs or a friend, always in possession of an unused seat around the nightly fire. No, He was forgotten, He no longer was real in the eyes of the people. This displeased him, being forgotten and cast aside. Now, whenever the people spoke of him, they used his new name only as a curse, as something to avoid, denying his very existence in this day and age. However, there were a few that still knew of him, the select few who still followed the mostly lost ways of the world, opting to refer to him and his brethren as beings, rather then consequences and fears.

Yet here He stood, a lone survivor of a battle he had taken to spectating, and opting to decline involvement in, despite the fact He could simply kill several hundred scores of men with the wave of his hand, or the sweep of his wicked mounted blade, which lay sheathed behind his bare back. He took a few more minutes to inspect the not scarred paradise, his eyes darting and seeing from beneath his simple black blindfold. The sight appealed to him, the way the crows picked at the bodies, feasting on a meal that was not there. And then, there came the most beautiful part of it all. The souls.

He had always loved slaughter for this part and this part alone. It was indeed this part of every gruesome scene that somehow justified the wait. Compared to the events that were about to unfold, all the other atheistic beauty of this scene only cast a slight and tiny influence, an experience that could be cast aside with the sweep of a hand or the blink of an eye. He felt his fingers, or representation thereof twitch with excitement as He saw a black mist begin to form. With a nervous, excited twitch, He watched with complete attention as it began to condense, forming a black veil around the scene of the slaughter. From inside it, death cries could be heard endlessly, souls stuck in limbo re-experiencing their moment of death many times over, all in the course of several seconds. He could feel his lips turn upward, as he felt all the pain, suffering, sorrow and hate rise from this cloud, penetrating a corrupting the air around it, rendering the very landscape forever unclean. He soon became aware that his lips were pulled into a thin, twisted smile.

With a single hand movement, He drew his sickle, the object very much as sentient as He was. Cracking his neck slightly, causing his jet-black blindfold to drop down to his neck, He bathed in the new found wave of opiate that he felt from his blood-red orbs finally peering onto the area devoid of life. He couldn't help but gasp, watching his drawn weapon above his head begin to pulse, also affected by the macabre atmosphere. He tightened his grip when it let out a scream, indicating his job was about to take place. The blade on the cruel instrument began to glow, a bright hue almost putting the now setting sun to shame, yet one unable to penetrate the mist of pure malice and discontent.

"My men", he called out in a voice that echoed with thousands of years worth of identity, each words carefully pronounced thousands of times over and over in the same sentence. "It is time for you to move on", He bellowed, the light now concentrating to one area and the cursed sounds beginning to die down.

The glowing began to concentrate, forming a single beam of light. Then, with a bright flash, it vanished, leaving only a single door, one that lay bounded with hundreds of chains, each barred with many locks. With a swing of his blade, He severed the chains, causing the door to swing open, revealing the pulsing blue abyss of his domain inside. Twirling his blade, He ordered the now dead and abandoned men into the gate, and was pleased with the surprising ease in which they entered.

It was only a few seconds after He had finished ushering in the last of the dammed through the gate that He felt a slight tug. He ignored it, opting to ensure the task at hand would not be neglected in any way, but soon found another tug, pulling at him, daring him to submit himself to it and be whisked away. With slight reluctance, He once again cut the gate with his instrument, this swing binding it back up to the way it was before, then finally banishing it.

Waiting with slight anticipation, He felt another tug take hold of him, and this time followed it, aware of his leave of the slaughter and exit into thin air. He floated in nothingness for a few seconds, before opening his eyes to once again find himself blinded by his blindfold, this time standing in the center of a building He could not recognize. He could feel a few traces of the battle lingering in the air around him, doing little more then testifying to his immense presence and power.

After all, he was Death.

 

[Lady Nefrodiel]

The trio of women waited patiently for the entity known as Death to reply to their summons. They waited a while, apparently Death was a very busy entity. But that was only to be expected with the countless deaths happening throughout the world. But while they waited, they did make a pretty sight... a trio of women whose aura's were physical manifested around their figures. They were a group of considerable power, the older females skilled mages in their respective fields. Calanna Ar-Feiniel was dressed simply in a white robe, white light engulfing her tall and lithe form. Grey optics were closed as golden hair hair flowed elegantly down to her midback. While Calanna was light, Moranna Ar-Feiniel was like a dark twin to her sister in every way. With raven black hair and the dark aura she radiated, it was clear that Moranna's soul identified with the dark arts as much as her sister's soul identified with the ways of the light. And as fate would have it, the two sisters were indeed twins.

As for Princess Elbereth Arel herself her aura was a rosy pink color that suited her gentle nature all too well. There was a certain aura of innocence that followed the princess mercilessly that was sometimes quite irritating for her. In this world where corruption roamed rampantly about, what did someone with her personality know about the world? In some ways, informing her family about her gift to view the future would be much better for her. They would take her more seriously and not be so quick to dismiss her perspective on things. But could she submit the world to tyranny simply because she wanted to be acknowledged more than the princess who needed protecting? No, she couldn't. That would be selfish and ridiculous of her to want something like that.

Finally, Moranna, the person who had lead the ritual and the circle that they had formed, opened her grey optics suddenly. "He is here," she proclaimed, her voice radiating as much power as her sister the royal oracle. Privately Elbereth wondered how the dark-haired woman could assume Death would take the persona of a male... or a gender at all. But the princess didn't have to wait to long to see that Moranna was correct. A male being had appeared in the middle of their circle, his eyes covered by a simple black blindfold and a monstrous weapon was carried on his back side. He radiated of power, darkness, and well... death itself. It was truly an awe inspiring sight, but also made the young princess shiver with remembrance. He was everything she was trying to prevent for her kingdom, he perfectly symbolized it and that was not an easy thing for her to deal with.

Although Moranna had lead the ritual (her mastery in the dark arts was something Calanna could never try to outshine), Calanna was the first to speak. After all, she was the one who had said that death must be bargained with. The silk white bell sleeves of her robe were crossed as the blonde woman bowed deeply to the entity. He was greater than any ruler in the living world, because everybody in this room would eventually come face to face with him. And although she and her twin sister had lived much longer lives than the average human being- or even aged liked normal human beings- she knew that would not last another century. Elbereth was fated to take over for her as the royal oracle, although with this unexpected twist in fate she was no longer sure. "We apologize for summoning you, Great One," Calanna stated, her voice filled with wisdom of the years she lived (although she knew she had nothing compared to the being who was standing in front of her), "But we have a most urgent matter." She raised her head, grey eyes meeting the blind fold, "We have come to bargain for more time for one of the charges you are about to take."

Moranna met her sister's gaze, privately communicating to her that this would be folly. One did not bargain with Death. He took what he wanted, when he wanted. And why would he listen to her sister's appeal? After all, they were preventing more deaths if the king was given more time to live. What was there to possibly bargain about? They could all lose their souls for this. But as much as she disliked it, an Ar-Feiniel could not disobey the leader of the clan. As for Elbereth, she held her breath. She was curious as to how this would play out.

 

[shinyka]

Death remained silent during the entirety of the strange woman's speech. There was something odd about her aura. In a sense, she reminded him very much of himself, one that boomed with power externally, but was also empty, hollowed and void by the ages past. He tilted his head slightly, trying even more to identify her. It was obvious she was powerful. He could tell that much by looking at her aura alone. In a way, she resembled himself, as did the one who looked very much like her, a twin or clone perhaps. The idea of clones and twins made him think of having a copy of himself, which he pondered the idea of while the strange women continued talking. He chuckled under his breath and cursed at the same time, at the thought of having to share his near orgasmic reaping with another, and finally mentally concluded that he was to forever be alone, for the better or for the worse. With a nod and a silent grunt, he finished listening to the odd women talk.

Upon listening to her finish, he shook his head slightly, pondering what it was that she was referring to when she talked about "The charges he was about to take". He thought for a second, before reaching into the endless billowing depths of his black robe that covered his lower torso. With a grunt, he pulled out a scroll from an unknown pocket and unfolded it, grimacing slightly as a few drops of blood slid off of it an onto the floor, a later testament to the macabre feel of the scroll being made of a strange, pulsing, fleshy substance. For a few minutes, he poured over it, looking for a possible identity of one he was to soon reap that would cause enough trouble for beings such as these to risk themselves to summon him, a move deemed folly by even the most powerful beings there were.

A few minutes into reading his fleshy doctrine, sifting through the soon-to-die peasants and warriors, one name caught his attention. With a smile, he began to roll his scroll up, before placing it back into the billowing abyss that was his clothing, woven of a substance unknown to the mortal world. He did not a dress the women just yet, but found himself laughing, a sense of impending bliss overpowering him, consuming him. He was aware that tears now flowed freely down his face, exiting from beneath his blindfold. He regained his composure a few minutes later, unaware of how agonizing the wait for the beings inspecting him must have been. It mattered little to him, he had all the time in the world.

When his laughter finally subsided, he regained his composure, and resumed facing the trio. He opened his mouth, and spoke to them for the first time since they had summoned him, this time, he voice calm and confident, only echoing with the voice of one man. His words were well strung, giving the impression of someone who thought what they said carefully, yet at the same time, there was something chaotic and unpredictable about it. It was indeed this ambivalent guise that shed truth on the paradox of what he really was, a being of both the light and the darkness, the sorrow and the joy.

"In exactly eight days, four hours, sixteen minutes and twenty-seven seconds, your king will die", he said, calm and composed, despite the news he was breaking. "His cause of death will be massive bleeding in his lungs, a curse that still haunts him from his days as a war hero, fighting for the 'betterment' of this country", he recited, feeling himself grow slightly joyous as he progressed his description, unaware of the turmoil and sorrow he must no doubt have been subjecting his audience to. "It'll be beautiful", he said, his composure beginning to unfold again, this time, giving way to his slightly more sadistic side. "There's going to be blood everywhere, turmoil and chaos. I'll be sleepless for many a fortnight to follow, basking in the untold joy his sons will be bringing me", he began to laugh, telling of the many, many deaths that would follow the untimely end of the king.

"And yet, you wish to deny me this pleasure?", he asked, attempting to intimidate.

 

[Lady Nefrodiel]

Elbereth flinched as she watched a few drops of blood meet the floor. To her, the sound of it meeting the ground was like a large shout that rang throughout her entire being. Despite the blood and the pillaging and the corruption she saw in her visions, somehow she had not grown immune to the chill it sent through her petite form. Furthermore the scroll he had pulled out was pulsing. How... disgusting and not her first choice in writing material. But then again, she wasn't a powerful deity was she? Part of her wondered why the sisters had included her in this summoning, it was obvious she was very much out of her league here. But she was Calanna's apprentice and this was her father's impending death that she was trying to stop. A family member needed to be here, out of the three of them she had the closest ties to him.

Calanna held a stony face, while her twin sister looked somewhat fascinated by the scroll Death held. Of course leave it to the young princess to freak out while Calanna couldn't care less. Apparently she, Moranna, was the only one to know the true significance of what he held in his hand. Didn't they understand that was the list? The one that held all the names of who was to die next? That scroll with its pulsing flesh represented true power. But leave it to her silly light-obsessed sister to not really care about that. Even in her long years of life, she had never expected to be in a situation desperate enough to summon Death itself.

When he broke out into laughter, Moranna couldn't help but smirk quietly to herself. She knew he had realized why they had summoned him in the first place and the reason for his laughter. After all, who truly was folly enough to keep death not only from one of his charges, but thousands of his charges? But Moranna could understand why this was so important to Calanna. The Ar-Feiniels could easily escape the situation, they could easily return to their previous isolation from the normal humans, but when Calanna had taken the job of royal oracle she had also sworn fealty to this kingdom. And even if the Ar-Feiniels could escape, it was still somewhat irritating to have to find a new home kingdom. As for Calanna she patiently waited for him to be through with his amusement. He after all had all the time in the world and as long as he was here, there was no immediate danger to her king. Not to mention she supposed it would be amusing to the ancient being. Who bargained with Death?

The young princess didn't take the laughter too well, a slight frown on her lips. She failed to see how this was funny or amusing or even entertaining in anyway. And he hadn't even spoken a word yet! This was frustrating beyond belief... she wanted an answer, needed an answer in how to prevent her father's death. She didn't want to hear laughter! Elbereth's unease in the situation only grew when he finally did speak. His voice reflected the power that he had, but that mattered little to Elbereth as he spoke of the details of her father's death. Her body started trembling as the words brought about the images she had seen earlier prominently to her mind. She didn't want to think about it! It was disorienting to see one's father's death! "No," she protested softly, Elbereth's voice barely above a whisper, "It's not beautiful. It's horrible. It's the beginning of the end of everything I've ever known and I refuse to let it take place. My father's death... my mother's sorrow, my brothers' hatred for each other as they battle for what they think is theirs. I refuse to let it happen! I don't care what I have to do, but I'll do anything to prevent that from happening!" As her little speech continued on, her voice was no longer soft but grew louder and louder to show her passion and determination in her cause.

Moranna looked genuinely surprised that the Arel's naive little princess would have the guts to disagree with death face to face, but Calanna was not. She knew the strength that was hidden behind her princess. Comfortingly she laid an arm on her young apprentice's shoulder, trying to calm the trembling that had engulfed the small princess. "Hush child," she said softly, "That is enough." The Royal Oracle was the epitome of calm and soothing, but soon turned the power of her grey gaze back to the dark being before her. "Forgive Elbereth, Great One. As you can probably tell, the king is her father. I understand if you do not care for the relationships us mortals have with each other, but they are. She's young too. So altogether, she's more passionate out of three of us about this and more likely to outburst like that," she apologized.

Nodding her head, Calanna was respectful but did not fall in the trap of being intimidated by his question. Which was a somewhat rare thing, even her own king would quiver in fear upon hearing death's inquiry. But she was no normal human being. She was an Ar-Feiniel who had lived several centuries who had dealt with her fare share of beings throughout her life. Of course, she had never met Death face to face, but she stood her ground. "My sincerest apologies," she started off, "But yes, I would deny you your pleasure. Like Elbereth, I, too have ties to this kingdom and to this royal family that to see this kingdom be destroyed by this matter... is disheartening. And all four of us know that this will not only affect this kingdom, but others as well. As I said, we are here to bargain for the extension of the king's death so as to avert this bloody civil war. What may we offer you?"

Moranna honestly hoped he didn't ask for their three souls in payment, she'd rather not die just yet- she wasn't that self sacrificing. Let her sister and her naive apprentice be the sacrifices. Actually it would be rather nice if Calanna was wiped out from protecting her foolish kingdom, that meant she would inherit the title of clan leader. Calanna's chosen successor was not done growing up just yet. Still, it was out of her hands.

 

[shinyka]

Death paused for a second before breaking into laughter again, this time it was much more intense and intimidating. He was not aware how long he laughed, only that it was a bit of a while by human standards, and by the end of his obsessive indulgence of humor, tears had developed in his eyes. Mind you, not normal tears by any definition, but instead tears of blood. It only took a few seconds for said tears to perforate his black blindfold, leaving it soaked and bloodied as the macabre tears of blood ran down his face, and eventually forming a small puddle on the ground. He paid no attention to this, as if it were something that happened frequently, yet it was obvious that the humans were at least slightly unnerved by it. The young girl in particular, the apparent daughter of the king, seemed to be the one most affected by his outbreaks. It was obvious she didn't have much contact with the spiritual world. The other two, however, seemed less affected by his unusual behavior. Additionally, they seemed almost used to it, something that slightly frustrated Death. He resolved to see them quaking in his presence before his time in this strange building came to an end.

At long last, Death's laughter stopped, a good while later. At this point, there was a mid sized puddle of blood caking the floor beneath him. Oddly enough, however, the blood only circulated around his feet. It never actually touched them, as it the blood itself was afraid of him. Death took a few steps forward, closing the distance between him and the women by several feet. In addition to giving them more of a feel to his massive power, it also allowed him to see them more clearly, as his blindfold forced him to rely on sense, and the blood caking his face made it slightly more difficult to judge things using his mind. He vowed to wipe it off and devour it as soon as he could, and he soon founds his lips slightly wet at the idea of doing so. With a slight chuckle, he began to consider their requests.

Death found himself wondering for a second if the humans were brave, or merely stupid. They seemed to deem fit to challenge him, and now they wished to deny him not only one of his soon to be favorite charges, but change the very future of this soon to be bloody country as well? Death could feel himself quaking at the very notion of not collecting the tortured souls of so many, perhaps a large amount of them innocent, mere victims of circumstance. Death could feel the rage of this idea welling up inside him, before he finally expressed his discontent in the idea with a mighty howl, one that echoed across the chamber, perhaps even to the outside where it frighted the consciousness out of two acolytes who happened to be tending to the outside garden. He couldn't help but chuckle when he felt their minds drop remotely, and made a mental note to visit the two of them later, if serving no reason aside from tormenting them again, if to accomplish nothing more then reminding the then perhaps doomed palace of his undeniable place in this world. Not that they would forget either way of course, even if he chose to let the king live, whatever it was he would ask in return would no doubt carve him a place in this world again.

Finally allowing his inner soliloquy to resolve itself, Death finally turned and began pondering the matter at hand. It occurred to him that he must have kept his audience there for a while, something that bothered him not, as being immortal, he was used to taking his time in everything he did, and saw no need to hurry a choice as important as this one. Finally, he let out a sigh and looked at his options. To him, there was little sense in giving up one of his most promising charges for anything less then what he would have gained normally. However, just what could satisfy such space puzzled him, and left him wondering if this would indeed be his greatest charge since the massive flood that had drowned an entire continent in one single day. He pondered it for a few more seconds before an idea struck him. His cold black lips curled into a smile as he thought of this wonderful idea, and the more he thought of it, the more he liked it. If he were not going to collect his large deposit of life on the battlefield, he would indeed need to find it somewhere else. However, since the numbers he gained from that could never reasonably resemble a war, he needed to get the most for his deaths.

With a smile, Death crouched to the ground and stared reflectively into the pool of blood around his feet. He muttered a few words to it, before it turned pitch black, no longer blood, but some unknown substance, very much like the miasma like cloth that made up his pitch black robe. With a grunt, Death ascended to his feet again before once again reaching into the inky black abyss that was his cloak. He fumbled around for a second before he finally secured his cold hand around the object he was looking for. With a smile, he withdrew his hand from his cloak, with it coming a gilded hourglass, full of sand on one side, and completely empty on the other. What was most unusual about this hourglass was that despite what direction it was pointed in, the sand always remained on the same side, as if being held by some unknown force of will. As Death was almost sure that the darker lady knew, judging by her reaction when he first brought out the list, this hourglass contained the very sands of passing themselves, which allowed him to drag a mortal into the land of the dead, or vice-verse.

Wordlessly, Death pulled the cap off of the top of the guided masterpiece of art and allowed the sand to drop into the puddle of blood below him. When the sand hit the blood, it became a rather wispy substance. Death waited about a minute for all of the fine powder to trickle out before kneeling to the ground and examine this strange fog. With another collection of strange words, the fog solidified and turned to dirt, caking the floor of the temple. Death wasted no time in kneading it with his hands. He spent a great many minutes shaping it into the likeness of a little village. He had no particular model in mind, and instead opted to work from what he had seen in the many villages he had visited. Soon, little houses began to take shape, only to be followed by tiny little people to inhabit them. Although the scene was made of the very essence of the ground, the resemblance to the real world was striking, and by the time he was done, it almost seemed like the villagers could move around at a second's notice, ready to resume milling their dirt like grain and tending to their dirt animals.

Death stood again, this time addressing the strange women again. "I want you to give me a village", he said, before kneeling to his knees again. With a single gasp, he blew out a strange blue smoke, which encased the small village, encompassing it and obscuring it from view. He waited a few minutes for the smoke to clear, before the tiny dirt village was finally visible again. This time, however, it seemed alive, the peasants now filled with color and life, the animals now moving around and making sounds realistically. It seemed as if the angel of destruction had actually created a town, only very very small. "I want it to be full of honest people", Death said as he rose to his feet again and looked down at his work. "Hard working people who fear god and embrace all that they think if good". Death looked down at his creation and smiled before waving his hand above it, a small trickle of blood coming from an unknown cut on his arm. The drop hit the center of the village and faded into the ground, unnoticed. "Make them have families, futures and fortunes", he said, obviously enjoying himself and looking anxious at what he was about to say.

Suddenly, one of the many jointures peasants in the center of the tiny creation dropped his knees, making sounds very similar to that of an animal being slaughtered of the like. A few seconds passed before he fell to the ground, his body growing pale and gaunt at an alarming rate. A second villager noticed him before she too, fell to the ground, rasping for breath and becoming a rather cadaverous set of remains in a mater of seconds. Black smoke began to rise from the bodies, causing rot and decay to follow in its path as it ascended towards the heavens. Not an hour had passed before the entire village was not more then a fest of rot and a pile of bodies.

"Give me the pleasure of taking everything away"

((Sorry for the delay))

 

[Lady Nefrodiel]

When Death broke out into laughter once more, this time showcasing the dark and intimidating being he was, Elbereth trembled, Moranna seemed troubled, but Calanna still seemed to hold a quiet patience for his indulgence in humor. Moranna failed to see why he would laugh again, he all ready realized the extent of what Calanna was asking of him. Perhaps he was amused with the little princess's outburst? Or was it her own sister's attitude regarding him. If he wanted their apparent leader trembling in fear, the dark-haired woman could see why he would be amused. That was one of Calanna's trademarks- total calmness in the face of stressful situations. Moranna supposed it came with the ability for being able to see the future ever since she had been born. And her own life's experiences from the last couple of centuries. As blood pooled around the dark entity's feet from the tears he had shed, Elbereth looked extremely uncomfortable. Instincts cried for her to turn tail and go back to her innocent world where things were simple (not like she could do that, dratted visions), but duty to her father and kingdom held her place.

Here Calanna's calmness broke through a little bit as small look of irritation passed through her features upon seeing the size of the blood puddle. Wonderful. She would have to have someone clean that up after they were done. Couldn't have puddles of blood in her precious temple, now could she? He was now taking steps closer to them, where they really see the full majesty of Death himself. Elbereth was once more thinking she was out of her league her and really wanted to put some distance between him and her. Calanna didn't look too troubled, after all she knew he was powerful. Why should she be afraid of the inevitable? Eventually they would all die. That was just the facts. He deserved the greatest of respect, but refused to give him her fear. Although Calanna imagined poor Elbereth had to be terrified out of her wits upon the dark being coming closer to them, blood soaking through his black blindfold.

Death's laughter stopped, as he seemed to ponder the royal oracle's request. It appeared he did not like the idea of losing so many potential charges all because of a mere mortal being, judging by the loud howl that suddenly rang throughout the room. Elbereth clutched herself, but she knew she had to stand strong. She refused to let that bloody civil war happen and would do anything. However Moranna was not amused as she pursed her lips. "Wonderful sister, you just pissed off Death with your folly request," she scowled in sarcasm, "Just wonderful."

Calanna decided to stoop herself to the level of her twin and comment on that. What good would it possibly do to bicker like children? Although she really hadn't expected him to howl like that. How... unprofessional.

Three pair of eyes watched the being create the village before their eyes... and it's down fall. Moranna did recognize the hourglass and looked just as fascinated with that as well as the list, but didn't comment on it. Upon seeing the village utterly destroyed, Elbereth softly gasped as she turned her gaze away from the gruesome sight. She didn't want to see that. Not at all. Then came Death's price for the extension of the king's life and Calanna sighed. Really, she wasn't expecting that. Moranna herself had no problem with that... destroying the lives of a few hundred normal humans to save the lives of thousands? No problem. But Calanna would not stoop down for murder. "I'm afraid, that's not possible," replied the blonde oracle, "I follow the ways of the light... to take the lives of innocent people goes against every principle I follow. If you asked my sister of that, she would gladly comply... but I'm afraid I couldn't let her do that. Is there anything else?"

That's when Elbereth thought of something. Her idea terrified her to death... but to take the lives of innocent people, she couldn't allow that either. And even though she was the youngest and would never inherit, she too was a princess. Thinking for the good of the kingdom was ingrained into her way of thinking. "Technically this is a life for a life... disregarding the future. There will be more wars to come, maybe even greater than the one we're trying to avert... but one can never avoid death completely," she started softly, her gaze concentrating on the ground. Then she raised her gaze up, taking on a regal presence although she did meet Death's blindfold, "If you must take Arel royal blood, would mine be sufficient? There will be grieving and sorrow if I were to pass on before my time... perhaps even anger if the truth were the let loose. Maybe it will snap my brothers back to their senses, could my life possibly be good enough to take the place of my father's?"

Calanna looked genuinely shocked at Elbereth's idea and she couldn't tell how this would go. Whether Death would laugh at her, or take her seriously... she wasn't sure which one she wanted. Moranna arched an eyebrow, shocked once again by the little princess. What a strange girl.

 

[shinyka]

He turned his gaze at long last from his piece of apparent art. When he looked away from it, it crumbled, as if representing its creator's loss of interest. He tilted his head to the side to listen to the girl speak. The girl. Yes, the girl. She was the odd one. She was terrified of him. Who wouldn't be? He was what people feared, the watchman who none escaped. Yet, at the same time, she was trying to reason with him, attempting to sway him, to move him to dropping his charge. At the same time, it was like there was something commanding about her request, like he would have to be daft to pass up such an offer.

He pondered it for a second. one of his seconds anyway. It did not occur to him that the humans did not have the same time that he did, and that they probably had been kept here a while by his slow and eventual pace. He mused on that for another second, before once again, a thought occurred to him. He labeled the previous notion, prepared to spend years thinking about how much time he took to do things at a later time, preferably one when when he had the years available to muse on it. No, he couldn't be taking years to decide the outcome of this, he had not years in this situation.

He finally regained his composure and addressed the group in the same way as he had addressed them earlier, taking care to show that he was indeed speaking to them, but at the same time, not singling out a single on to talk to in general. He took a few steps closer to them, aware that he was getting uncomfortable close to the humans. They were now standing closer to Death than many ever would. Yet, they were alive, another paradox indeed.

After moving up to the strange procession, He raised his hands in the commanding way, the way he often did to usher things like souls and spirits. This was his stance of intimidation and control, his position of power. From around him, the air itself seemed to bend to his will, moving as he commanded it silently to. He thought for a second before weaving another piece of art, this one of the air and sky rather than the dirt and ground.

Shadowy shapes began to take form around him, first forming outlines, then forming shadows and finally forming distorted images of men, men in all sorts of positions. There were those on horses, some wearing armor and some not. Some men carried bows, while others swords and lances. Some men were old, close to their natural time, and others young, sent to march to their early deaths. Some married with homes, while others, shades, expendables that would not be missed.

The silent procession broke all at once, as the figures started butchering each other, the dead reverting to the air that spawned them. More followed, more men off to die after their comrades, ready to fill the niche, in hopes that less would die on one side. Yet, at the end of the day, so many would be dead that it wouldn't matter, yet so many left to follow. It was near orgasmic for him, the sight of this brutality and the knowledge of the eventuality.

"It would be splendid though, the many of them charging, the carvery breaking the line and the pikemen and archers mowing down the frontline. So many would die, so many would take their places, off to die in lei of their brothers, sons and fathers. It would be bliss, my heaven amongst the carnage", He said, completing his dramatic speech with several erratic hand gestures that had little meaning. "Why must you take my pleasure away?"