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Roleplay Boards => Archived Roleplays => Climax Control Archives => Topic started by: Brother Grimm on August 30, 2013, 09:39:18 PM
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Clan Dalca Journals
Act 2; Scene 1</color>
"Now I lay me down to sleep
I pray the Lord my soul to keep
And if I die before I wake
I pray the Lord my soul to take."</color>
"I am wondering if you are surprised to discover that the story of Clan Dalca did not yet come to an end with the defeat of the Beast. If you are as honest as I was at the time, you would admit to feeling such. The sad truth is that after the battle in which the Fell Beast had been defeated, I had sought only to bring a further end to my story, quite literally."</color>
The one remaining carriage, the only one left following the battle that cost many a gypsy hunter's life and destroyed what there had been to make their mark on the world, drew to a slow crawl as it rounded the level dirt path that would lead the only survivors to the cabin.
If they had just gazed skyward, they might have noticed that clouds of a dreary gray blotted out much of the heavens above for as far as the naked eye might see. There indeed was a light wind, but with the endless horizon above them coated in the unmoving, dismal clouds that just an hour ago, opened up and a mist of rain cascaded down, as if the Heavens themselves wept in mourning for the pain and loss experienced.
Mother Nature herself seemed as if she were gazing down at them and in deference to the tragedy that had just taken place, she had used the skies as her personal canvas to tell them she indeed felt their pain. On one side of the sky, the waning moon was still visible but descending to begin its cycle anew. The sun, also, was beginning to rise in the east, coloring the night sky in brighter colors of pinks, oranges and lighter shades of glorious blue. It would seem somehow appropriate, that on this eve where the light defeated the dark but suffered at great cost, that for this briefest of times, there was a night within a day. A proverbial battle in the heavens where the night itself had succumbed to defeat, yet still held the rising dawn at bay.
Yes, they were in fact victorious, but there would be no celebrations to commemorate this day, nor any day hence.
Andrei sat at the helm of the carriage, using what strength he had left within his body to guide the horses who were visibly spooked by what had occurred only mere hours ago. The very horses that would have bolted in stark terror had their leather restraints between their harnesses and the thick oak trees in the forest not prevented such an act. The remaining horses walked behind the carriage, tethered to the back with the forms of wrapped bodies draped over their backs with care and respect; the bodies of the fallen Romanovs. All save for the one. The one who had sacrificed himself to save Andrei himself, and the life of an innocent child.
Andrei had a haunted look cast within his eyes as he stared straight ahead at the road, unseeing of the horses before him, unknowing and uncaring of the two at his side. His body was strong. His mind even stronger, yet he had not been properly prepared for just what exactly was to come when the Clan had showed at his door with his friend and love to discuss plans to do battle with the enemy and end its threat once and for all.
He had not been as active a hunter as was his family before him. He met with and fought against random creatures of the shadows, and thus proved himself worthy of being his parents' son. Yet the previous night's battle was fought for vengeance within his heart than for anything else. He saw not an enemy of the world's young before him when he came face to face with the legendary 'bogey man' as it came to be known. He simply saw the killer of his family; his mother and father, uncles and aunts. Each last remaining member of his Clan gone because of the violent nature of this terror inducing beast.
And now it was gone. Locked away. Sealed against the void to prevent it from ever again making contact with the world around them and thereby threatening the many generations over the course of the following centuries.
As they neared his home, he cast a sidelong glance to his right and saw the only remaining member of the Romanov witches that set out by his side to do battle with the Pale One. The very elderly matriarch who performed the final exorcism that sealed 'it' away into the void and with it, spelled Nicolai's impending doom. He hated her for that. Oh he knew that deep down, there really was no other alternative. Nicolai had risked everything to save the babe and buy them time to defeat the shadow. Had Nadya not done what was needed, then the Beast would have escaped, and Nicolai's sacrifice would have been for nothing. the entire clan's sacrifice would have been for nothing.
He could not fault her for that, try as he might. They all knew the risks that came with that night before they had even set out to do battle. Andrei carefully looked, but Nadya's eyes remained solely ahead of her and she paid him little mind. He was angry at her. Yes, he hated her right now, but he also could not imagine the sheer magnitude of pain the older woman must be going through here and now. Her face was stoic, unyielding, yet the pain was there in her eyes. The eyes were the windows to the soul, and his heart ached to realize that with the exception of this child, this baby, all this elder knew was lost to her.
Yet, she was not the only survivor. Merely her clan's only remaining adult. Andrei's eyes shifted only slightly to the old woman's lap where the babe rested, curled up in her arms with his eyes closed. The very boy child that Nicolai kept from the demon's embrace, and whom Andrei himself dove into the burning ring of Holy Fire itself to save from its clutches and prevent him from suffering the same fate as he feared Nicolai had taken unto himself.
The wagon had crept to a slow stop, and after he himself had descended to the ground before his home, he walked around and assisted Nadya to her feet below while she still held the babe tightly against her bosom. He offered to take the boy, but she resisted. He could not fault her that, as she yet had the instinct of a mother in her heart and this boy was the only family she had left. It was only natural that she would cling to him as tightly as she may.
Knowing there was a tradition of their particular clan that she wished to uphold, Andrei had Nadya carry the boy into his home where she could set him down in his own bed to sleep his fears away. While she did this, he set himself to the grim task of removing the bodies of her family from the back of the wagon and off the backs of the few remaining horses, one at a time. It was hard work. Distressing, really, but it had to be done. They deserved this honor at least.
The honor of having their bodies greet the morning sun as it rose to its peak across the horizon.
The tip of the hill beyond his home was large, and he made certain to take the time to set each still form carefully down, each one beside their own. Laid out in a single row to mark their time spent on this earth as one, and now to accompany each other in the last leg of their final journey to the Pearly Gates.
Once this was done, he slowly unwrapped their bodies from the blankets and sheets they had been secured within so they could be seen by the angels above in all of their brave glory; man and woman alike. Young and old. Andrei almost choked back a sob as he looked at the face of the boy who was so close to becoming a man, the young Pesha who was as brave as any other.
Too young a loss.
It was then that the door to his homestead opened and Nadya calmly stepped outside, carrying a bucket of steaming water in one hand and a cloth with the other. Andrei had offered to do this last remaining task for her before the night came, but she would not hear of it. These were her family members, and she would be the one to bathe their bodies in preparation for their final rites. The only one to do so.
So he waited.
Night came soon enough. Andrei spent the time while Nadya went about her task by watching the boy child, and bringing out every bit of wood he had in storage that was dry and what he did not have, he went into the woods with a heavy heart and an axe in hand and collected what was needed yet. This was yet another manner in which his heart ached for Nicolai, as this was a task he had always gladly deferred to him.
The pyres had been built up off of the ground carefully, the wood soaked in oil and each body laid out atop their respective funeral arrangement. Andrei had suggested a change of clothes for each but Nadya resisted, wishing that each member rise to Heaven bearing the same attire they did their final battle in. So he stood back with the babe in his own strong, awkward arms as Nadya carried the torch to each pyre in turn, and lowered the dancing flames to the oil soaked wood. They then stood back as the flames grew higher and brighter, and the passing of this clan's members was made final.
They fought when they did not have to. They braved the darkest specter of fear itself to make the world a better place and to aid in his own quest for vengeance. They showed courage in their souls when this night, fear ruled their hearts.
Nicolai ...
Pesha ...
Tamas ...
Jaelle ...
Guaril ...
Mirela ...
Yoska ...
Drina ...
Only then did Nadya finally lose her composure and she wept bitter tears as the helpless Andrei could only watch and shift one arm around the old woman's shoulders to give her what little comforts he may. It was a testament to her inner pain that she accepted this. Even the babe seemed to sense her distress as his tiny fingers found themselves running through her thick, gray hair in a soothing gesture.
After many hours, the flames of the pyres finally died down and flickered out of existence. Only then did the two adults, and the single child, turn away and head back to the cabin. Despite her resistance, Andrei had insisted she remain with him, making his house her own. His gift of thanks, to give the matriarch a new family to love and cherish; a new grandson. Himself.
The rising sun would see their bodies once again, and only then could the remains be buried with due honor.
Nadya had her closure at the loss of her clan, her kin. Family and friends alike. She knew in her heart that their noble sacrifice would see them to the Gates of Saint Peter. they would be welcomed into the angelic fold with warm and open arms.
But Andrei? Not so much. He did not have the same beliefs as she, but more importantly, he did not have the same sense of closure that she did. No sense of satisfaction at the confident knowing of the fate of your loved one's soul. Andrei knew in his heart that he would spend the remainder of his existence wondering -- worrying -- for the fate of Nicolai's soul. When the Holy Fire had finally died down, the Pale One's shadow was gone, but so was Andrei.
So many times in years past when his family was yet still alive, would his mother and father draw comparisons between Andrei himself and Nicolai, with another famed pairing of brothers and warriors, lovers and dearest of friends, the Greek tragic pairing of Achilles and Patroclus.
He did not get to wash his dear friend's body. He was not allowed to set Nicolai's body before the rising of the sun in full honor so the angels and God Almighty could see him honoured above all others. All he could do, and would do, was fear and wonder. What then did Andrei have to show for all that had been stolen away yet freely given?
Andrei was seated at the table in his home's main living room where the clan's meeting had been held only two nights ago. He had been unable to sleep, plagued by nightmares where shadows crept from beneath his bed, and Nicolai's voice cried out to him in feat and pain.
Indeed, what did he have to show after this Hell on earth?
He flinched, surprised by the babe's fingers that touched his bare leg. He had not even known the child had roused himself up from the bed where Nadya held him and slept herself. The babe looked toward him with blind eyes and held out his tiny hands in an obvious desire, pleading. He worked his mouth but the only sound that came forth was a strained 'croaking' sound and the tears welled immediately up in Andrei's eyes as he reached down and picked the boy up into his arms to hold and to comfort him, or perhaps the boy was doing that for him.
What did he have? Apparently, a new family.</color>
His cold, amber gold eyes watched from the shadows of the island, unseen across the ocean's waters. There were legends of a lost track of land in the dark waters that might be seen only through a passing glance by the corner of your eye, yet if you turned to look and focused, it would no longer be there. It would be here that he would pass the time in Her company until his scheduled encounter against the ever-so-loving couple of Spike Staggs and Vixen would come to play. After that, who knew? He had come to expect the unexpected where Her power was concerned.
No, he was not on the actual location of Aruba, but somewhere else. Somewhere close enough to be able to gaze to the tropical location and witness the night life of the people along the shores as they celebrated the life they spent so freely and without a care. He had little doubt that many were the bleating lambs who called themselves fans of Sin City Wrestling, and the flock of wrestlers who they foolishly worshipped as false idols.
He toyed briefly with the fanciful thought of what those fools would do if he had arrived on that very same location and walked amongst them. The fear that would rise in their hearts. The panic that it might entail. The sheer curiosity of his presence by the few who could brave the sight and experience of his being. The idea was quickly cast aside and he set foot on the black sands of this haunted beach and he simply watched, a faux sense of annoyance on his cold facial features.
He knew She approached. Skilled and powerful though she might be, and tethered as he was, he was still a force of nature and could sense her by spirit alone. The scent of brimstone wafted through the air, the ragged cloak around her shoulders gently whipping in the warm, salty winds.
"Yes?" He asked without hesitation, knowing She wanted something. She always wanted something.
"This encounter will not be like any other you've been in." She observed. "To be paired with a male is one thing. A female, another thing entirely. It presents a unique situation when you find yourselves against the very same."
"Are you concerned for me?" The smile on his black lips could have spoiled milk, despite the charm of his pearl white teeth. "I am truly touched."
"You jest." She said calmly. "I was not referring to your opposition, but to your partner. The infidel." She turned to glance at him. "The betrayer."
"The Death Goddess is not of your concern." Grimm stated simply as he stared out into the dark nothingness. The wind whipped his waist length, white hair around and he shook his head. "She is mine. I admit I was sorely ... disappointed, in her defection to the other side. After all she and I had experienced, I had expected better of her. One way or another, she and I will have words."
"And you believe that will accomplish anything? She is quite strong willed."
"That she is." Grimm nodded. "Yet I am stronger. Never doubt that. I will bring her to her senses, whether she is open to the notion or not."
The two fell into silence as She looked out across the waters, following his own gaze toward the tropical paradise so near and yet so far away.
"Does he speak to you?" She finally asked him.
Grimm turned his head only slightly so that he could look down at Her. Most would have flinched by his haunting gaze, but not Her. This witch seemed to be unique in that regard. She returned his look with her own cool gaze from even colder gray eyes that had seen much sin, and was the source of far more.
"Does he cry out in sweet agony?" She reiterated. "The one you stole?"
"I am well aware of what you mean." Brother Grimm stated as he turned back away from her to look out over the brackish waters of the dim shore. And yes. From the moment he was taken, his soul has been mine."
Grimm smiled and looked out toward the beaches of Aruba, and if one might have sought to look, they might have seen the reflection of a screaming young man deep within his eyes.</color>
"I admit that even one such as I can enjoy a rare treat when I get to experience something unique. Something that I have never before been privileged to experience. Now you must understand that after so many eons, after being born of the Stygian shadows, there is very little that I can say that I have not experienced in one form or another. Yet this time I must admit, this upcoming encounter will be altogether new, even for one such as I."
"To be teamed with not just a female, but the very denizen of the unholy dead herself, Necra Octavian Kane. Oh my dearest Necra, how sorely disappointed I have been in you as of late. How much you disappoint those that have watched you over the years, flesh and blood and some not even of the mortal coil. God and demon, and those few that are above even that. Do not believe yourself capable of opposing me before, during or dare I infer, after we have our time. I am older than you, child -- by far. We will have words, dearest Necra, but first we have a small task before us. One in which I do not intend to fall aside against."
"Now while you oppose this Vixen, I have other matters to attend to; namely the former king of the proverbial mountain himself in Spike Staggs. Oh how glorious a career you have had over the years. How bitter sweet your very existence has been here within our own SCW. Your Heavyweight Championship reign in our own territory, and those two World heavyweight reigns you had elsewhere. It speaks much of you, Spike. It speaks that you are a fierce fighter. You brave the opposition and give it your all to walk away with mind and body intact and victory in your heart."
"What all of that means is that it makes me want to simply break you even more. To snap your fighting spirit like the most fragile of twigs off of a dead tree. to see that brave light that was kindled for so long in your heart flicker away and die, and watch in delight as you writhe in the sweetest agony of fear and despair."
"Your body will be ruined, as your spirit will be left to dust, to be simply blown away in the harsh winds. Your loved one, your partner, will have nothing left. And your children? Well, perhaps it is time you told them the truth. That the monster in their closets is not a figment of their youthful imaginations."</color></size>