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.:: Nirlam, A Tale. ::.

 

I Stared at the creature who just joined us.

In all my years, I had never seen something so beautiful,

So… utterly Terrifying.

Me, who was groomed to be the vampire lorde since birth,

Me, who was to one day, lead my kind to cut a swathe of destruction through this land’s so called ‘Holy order’ who used their infernal light magic to drive us off our rightful fatherland.

ME, who was to one day Knock that incompetent, corrupt, EVIL, indulgent bloat of a Lorde off his stupid throne of lust and Corruption to lead my kind to glory once again,

Am now shivering.

Hoping.

Praying, to Noctis,

That the Monster beside me doesn’t notice.

But I knew.

I KNEW that IT knows.

After all, I felt the kinship between us just like it did.

It was not anywhere close to what I felt between others of my kind.

It was more akin to the kinship we felt between our thralls, or what we feel between those who failed in their awakenings.

But I knew, that this time, I was the inferior one.

It has been YEARS since I left to travel the lands of the Empire.

To see how things were.

After all, I was curious.

I was sheltered most of my life.

Even when I was but a mortal spawn.

I’ve always heard of tales of mortals and their folly, their ingenuity, their strength, their frailty.

Their betrayal.

Even from that tender age, I’ve still wanted to explore, Roam this world, even if it meant I had to don this accursed plate to shade me from the tyranny of the sun.

But I enjoyed it.

I enjoyed masquerading among the mortals, enjoyed feasting on strong prey, ones who fight back, ones who pose a challenge. Warriors, Ones who lost honourably, to be my nourishment.

Remembered.

And some still Alive to tell the tale nonetheless.

It was wonderful, and I loved it.

Being an adventurer suited me much more than being the Lorde, but I had to bear the responsibility.

For I was the only one capable of standing up to that PIG.

No… He was not even worth being the livestock of his livestock.

He was a wretched, depraved, ABOMINATION, ah yes, that’s the word.

Yes, he was an abomination among our kind that had to be dealt with.

And as the one who dealt with him, I also had to bear the responsibility of my actions.

I remind myself that despite everything.

He was strong.

After all, he needed strength to murder Narek the Shade.

Narek, the one who withdrew our forces from the land to prevent unnecessary bloodshed.

With all his mistakes, despite all his FLAWS,

He was a wonderful king, one loved by all.

Trusting and trusted.

Kind.

Kind to both mortals and Vampires alike.

And I admired him for that.

And I will avenge him.

My sire.

And to find and obtain that strength, I needed the mortal’s Help.

I needed to find the lost relics of the forgotten Lands, 

The accursed lands.

The Forsaken Graths.

To obtain the relics of the Dreaded King of the Raging Ones.

But even with the expedition, I needed more support for it, and to earn that recognition, I came here to the Eastern front, to destroy the abomination that reigned over the Blighted Dead.

To Talk to the Hero, man to man,

Whom I respect despite being a mortal,

And one who can understand me despite our differences.

To aid me in my quest to vanquish Irkath the Dreaded lord of Greed,

The hoarder of a thousand relics.

I was Drunk on dreams.

Ambitious.

Confident.

FOOLISH.

For I forgot that I the world doesn’t spin my way.

All my illusions was shattered when I saw her.

The day walker. No, that’s not it…

The creature. No.

The Monster… ah yes.

I was reminded of my own Frailty.

When I first felt her approach,

I was ecstatic.

I thought I was the only vampire to still roam these lands.

Be it one of inferior blood, I was prepared to welcome whoever they were freely.

But then I saw her.

At first, I was frozen with confused shock.

For she was wading through the blazing light!

I thought she was a mutated variant, a favourable one, oh, Such a sweet and favourable mutation.

But then she came closer.

That’s when I started to feel that something was amiss.

I noticed.

Her Blood.

Vampires were considered undead, debatable, since we awaken after leaving our mortal shells behind.

But still, we have a heart, one that beats very, VERY slowly, but one which beat nonetheless.

We had Blood.

The monster that approached?

Dead and alive at the same time. Paradoxical.

No. She gave off the same scent as vampires, but there was no blood within. At least no normal blood. It was immaterial.

Fire and ash. Blood that was to boil and steam.

But asleep. Like a dormant volcano.

That was what I felt.

She was a walking husk of mortal imitation.

A mockery of the human form.

A white doll of immortalized beauty.

For there was one thing she was denied and one thing all those who lived had the right to.

The eternal sleep.

She was Tireless.

Forever Deathless.

Cursed.

A curse of Unsurmountable viciousness.

I was curious.

And then I gazed into her eyes.

Where normally there should be the silent glow of the red circles of dark magic,

I saw something else, something intense, something terrifying.

I saw a sea of raging fire ready to be unleashed.

At a terrible price, but which could be unleashed nonetheless.

Reigned in by ancient magic,

Slapped with shackles and rules.

And then I knew, what was in front of me was no mere vampire.

It was something as terrible as a dragon.

Something akin to the dreadlord I aimed to vanquish.

And Then she slowly came next me.

I was frozen with terror.

But she was oblivious to it.

She flashed me a brilliant smile, like the young woman she imitated to be.

Then I noticed.

That she WAS Young.

Naïve even.

That the fire didn’t even consider me.

It had a mind of it’s own. It had a target, a goal.

And it imposed itself on my mind.

Weighed down on it.

I barely used any mind magic, a negligible amount, but still, it caught on.

Then i felt it as our minds connected.

EMOTION.

Love.

Desire.

Longing.

Guilt.

Sorrow.

Pain.

HATE.

Oh, it was pure, raging insanity.

But it was still dormant, detached, and sad.

It wept, and I knew not for what.

The girl asked me my name.

“Nirlam” I answered.

Not my alias, or my title, but my maiden Name.

And she held out her hand

“Rayola” she gave me hers.

And I took her hands with courtesy,

And we shook.

The monster was a monster no longer.

She was Rayola,

Rayola of the flame,

Rayola the deathless.

And I realized that she was lonely.

Alone.

Cold.

Despite the raging fire within.

A little girl,

Despite the weight that burdens her.

And so I decided to lend her my shoulder to help her learn to stand.

And she would aid me with my ambition as thanks.

For such was what was spoken through the language of old from the brief moment we shook.

We had already struck a deal.

A silent deal.

But one of mutual benefit.

We spoke as we parted.

And I watched as she polished her pure Elven Blade of the ancient ways,

Stolen from a Bear of all things.

She recounted tales of Bears and innocent mischief.

She told of a mortal pair who were kind.

And I listened.

Listened to the short beginning of an legendary tale.

And I smiled at her innocent wish, her Honest goal.

And I swore to be by her side,

As a friend, an ally,

A silent guardian.

And as the one who’ll stay, to tell her tale to those yet to come.

But that was not our purpose today.

We were to Move forward, towards a common goal,

And to meet that end, we needed a hero.

And so we will fight,

To draw the hero’s attention, along with that of the Mortal empire,

And be the first to slay a dreadlord in the Thirtysecond Millennium,

A feat none could stand up to, since the fall of the Dreaded Lord of Pain,

Slain by the Hero of The Dawn

And for that, We shall slay an abomination.

And as such we had to ride.

So we rode.

We rode together.

We rode through the marshes, the sands, the green.

We rode through storm and dust,

Through light and shade,

Through gale and Earth.

Till we stood in Front of the Lion's Gate. 

Where eight hundred turned a mere drop among thousands,

Where adventurers and explorers and soldiers met without friction for the first time in years,

Under the banner of the Hero of the Empire,

The Lance of the Morning sun’s glory,

Nathan, the liberator.

The bane of the blight.

The Hero of the Dragon’s Light.

We arrived at our camp on the last day of the Fifth month.

And on this day, he shall lead us forward, over the mountains and valleys.

Forward, to the ends of mortal lands, to the cursed realm, where the King of Undeath sleeps,

To rid him of his Minister of death so that we may move forward a Castle of our own.

To recover what was once lost,

So that one day, several generations in the future,

Be it, a century or Aeons ahead,

Our inheritors can have a foothold to liberate this continent of the Blighted Emperor’s accursed rule.

Let all Remember this day, for the Hero, with his thousands, shall slay an Abomination of the Darkest Depths.

Let none Regret, that today, we woke the Blighted Tyrant once again.

Let all Rejoice, That today, we won another battle in a war that has drawn out for Eighteen Thousand years.

Today we win once again, against the strongest of the dreaded Lords,

The Dreadlord of Grief,

The blighted Emperor,

And his Empire of Plague.

 

-x-

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About the author

Cloudless Night

Bio: Concept Artist, Camouflaged Cloud.

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