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| The Lady and The Dark Knight | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Jun 29 2011, 11:49 AM (359 Views) | |
| The London Reaper | Jun 29 2011, 11:49 AM Post #1 |
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The man seemed to materialise silently from wisps of dark smoke, already walking forward through the gates. The wide, flat brim of his tattered hat cast a shadow upon his face, despite the fact he walked through the black, moonless night. The wrought iron of the gate rose up dozens of feet above him, forming horrid images of foul creatures in it's bends and bars, and coming to lethally sharp and plentiful points. The gravel ground about under his boots as he went. In the distance, the howl of what was clearly a werewolf echoed through the air. This deep in the woods, the creatures no longer needed the moon to bring on their affliction. They were no longer human at all. On all sides, the pines reach high into the sky. Here, in the heart of the wood, the trees are ancient and powerful. This is a wild place. However, there is no creature in these woods who can match the man's power or ability save one... and he knows it. The gates open of their own accord, creaking and whining, giving off loud, metallic cracks and dull snapping noises. The solid iron was so heavy even a muggle tank could not move them without the assistance of magic. Dark clouds writhe in the sky overhead. As he passes through, the gates close behind the man. His duster billows about around him. Ahead of him looms from the darkness a massive, twisted stone structure. It had the look of some evil beast about it. Statues of werewolves stand everywhere. Here and there, Dementors glide silently in the dark. They do not dare approach the man. He is a wizard of an order more than capable of utterly obliterating the lot of them without a second thought or the break of a sweat. But for their ability to control their urge to approach, they still can't resist the urge to stay near. They keep a perimeter around the man as he walks. They obviously hope they can take advantage of some moment of weakness that shall never happen. The man does not pause to consider them. He does not break stride. As he steps into the castle keep, the Dementors fall back. They are wary of him. However, there is one inside the keep they truly fear -- an emotion they are supposedly incapable of. They do not dare to invade the ominous monolith. The man's boots echo across the massive, vaulted entry-hall. He walks up a staircase to the left some thirty feet in, which curves up to an upper level in the same room. Blood red carpet covers the upper level's floor. It is threadbare and moth-eaten. He takes no notice of it though. He is similarly disinterested in the strange sort of twinkling coming from the shadows as light catches on some shiny thing in the dark. The man walks up to a massive, towering door. It lifts so far up toward the vaulted roof that it is lost in the shadows high above. It opens to reveal a massive, circular room beyond. The whole place seems to be carved from a rough, raw stone. A massive, jagged stone dais stands in the very centre of the room. Upon it stands a throne hewn from the same stone and inlaid with gold and silver, jewels of every description. A black velvet cushion sits upon it. It is currently vacant. He descends the levels into the flat, even circle of stone surrounding the dais. Above him, though he takes no notice, the ceiling climbs so high, it's impossible that the castle actually houses the room. If every tower of Hogwarts was stacked end on end, they would not come close to it's height. Thousands of narrowed red eyes peer down at him. He waits silently... Edited by The London Reaper, Jun 29 2011, 12:03 PM.
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| Lady Eris Agrona | Jun 29 2011, 04:38 PM Post #2 |
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The room flashed. A flash so black that all inhabitants within the room were undoubtedly blinded momentarily. A flash so cold that it would feel as if ice was gripping onto their very souls. A flash so strong that they would instantly be able to feel the power of the force which caused it. The strength. The control. The hatred. A flash so powerful that while it would only choke those who had chosen an evil, twisted path, it would immediately stop the hearts of the innocent, the good. There was only one flash like it and it could mean only one thing. She was close. Animalistic shrieks, howls, wails filled the room, the echoes bouncing endlessly around the only remotely human figure in the immediate vicinity. She was so very close they could taste her presence. A dull grey light began to filter through the blackness, which, as instantaneously as it had appeared, blinked away... replaced by a tall figure in black robes. She was there. In an instant the room became silent; a silence so deadly it felt like death itself. The silence was too immediate to be natural. The figure stood still in the centre of the room, her body a few inches away from the throne. Long, black robes covered her entire figure so that not a single inch of flesh could be seen. A thick hood was pulled over her head and face, which was tilted down towards the floor. There was a hushed trepidation in the room while they waited. For movement. For orders. The atmosphere was so tense that not a single sound could be heard. There was no talking, no movement, no breathing. Only silence. And the silence continued while they waited, each one too intimidated, too fearful to make the first move, each one knowing that if they were the first to break the silence that they would face bitter and cruel punishment. They did not have to wait long. "Vintus," the word was uttered quietly--almost whispered--with a mysterious, chilling tone, added to by the slight hiss of the 's'. There was an unmistakable power to the voice. A definite sense of authority, of control. And it was almost impossible to determine the mood of the speaker; the tone was kept so level that it could be interpreted as alluding to anything. It was only when the figure lifted her head and pulled back the hood of her cloak, revealing the pale face of Lady Eris, that one would find it marginally easier to estimate what their fate was. Whether they would be subjected to punishment--or be lavishly rewarded--and how severe this would be. Whether they would be able to leave the threshold with their life or be cruelly disciplined for their mistakes. However, the Lady always was a master of trickery and so her face would only show what she wanted people to see. And at that moment, her expression remained almost totally blank, apathetic. She would have almost appeared to be bored if it weren't for her pale blue-grey eyes, which appeared to be very alert. "You have done well, my child," the words were spoken in the same tone as before, albeit with a slightly 'lighter' undertone, "very well," a hint of fondness, of contentment, of satisfaction, creeped into the voice. A tiny trace of a smile tweaked on the edge of her lips. Bit by bit, the woman allowed the man to see that she was pleased with his actions. "But now I have a more demanding task for you, my love, because I know you are the most capable of performing it," she paused, "and if you succeed on this task, then I will know I can trust you to take the other role we discussed previously." |
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| The London Reaper | Jun 29 2011, 08:07 PM Post #3 |
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He sensed her presence long before he detected it with his cruelly yellow eyes. He alone of her servants did not cower as much as rejoice at her arrival. He alone remained calm and collected. He alone was her lieutenant, trusted absolutely, his loyalty unwavering. His was a life meant purely to be her right hand, and a mighty right hand he was. "Mors Elatus, My Queen." he said, bowing his head as he took to one knee. He placed the tips of his right hand's fingers upon the cold stone, keeping his palm elevated. His voice echoed in the chamber, though some eerie force made it dissipate after just a few feet. "Your wish is my only desire." As she spoke, he bowed more deeply, awaiting his next order. |
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| Lady Eris Agrona | Jul 2 2011, 04:07 PM Post #4 |
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As Vintus dropped to one knee - a gesture which always pleased her immensely, Eris turned her head to look in one of the dark corners of the room. She snapped her fingers sharply and a small ogre-like creature scurried over, head down, eyes averting the Dark Lady's gaze, knees trembling slightly, and took her black overcoat before hurrying back to the shadows. Eris dropped into her throne, her black dress swishing slightly as she did so. "Rise," she commanded, her piercing eyes staring at her lieutenant. Eris waited a few moments before continuing. "I need you to take care of this man," Eris flicked her left wrist so that her palm faced the ceiling and her forefinger pointed to her left. Her other fingers curled inwards slightly. For a few moments, nothing could be seen. But then, gradually, the image of a man's face began to materialise in the smoky light of the room. The image was hazy, but the face was detailed enough so that it would be recognisable. The man was Caucasian, with short dark-brown hair and what looked like deep blue eyes. He had a pointed nose, a square-chin and very prominent cheek-bones. He wasn't anyone famous; it was unlikely that the average citizen would recognise who he was or even know his name. He held no importance to the world as a whole. Except to Eris and the Death Raisers. "And I want you to do so immediately." |
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