On Hallowed Ground

[Akaru Vega]

As a common addition to any stronghold, since the beginning of religion, there have been churches of all sorts built to serve as an accommodation the patrons of a city or kingdom or even that of a Keep. Subsequently, Akaru found himself visiting that of the cemetery located behind the Cathedral. Five fresh graves and all are unmarked. Pleased at the sight of this he returns to the Cathedral. Once inside Akaru stands at the altar.

With his hands raised high and his head bowed, Akaru begins a chant. At first he spoke low, but then louder and louder until it were as if he was announcing a speech to thousands. The words that rolled from his tongue were fluid and enchanting. The very air around him stirred with a sort of blackness. The earth trembled and the walls of the Cathedral shook. Stained glass windows shattered, shards crashing to the floor as it too began to break up and splinter.

Outside in the cemetery, the dirt rolled and moved in ways only describable as unworldly or demonic. The five fresh graves burst open with flames as bright and white as the purist of snows. Ashes bellowed out of each hole, complimenting the flames from within.

"Rise like the Phoenix, reborn from the ashes. Stronger and a new. Rise and serve me, my fallen souls from realms long forgotten!!!"

His final words sealed the deal. If any of the underworld wished to rise to this world and live once more, they would do so here and serve their new Lord. Though this was like all else and would soon pass. So he hoped for the best possible outcome. Akaru could only step back out to the cemetery and wait while watching.

"This ground will have to serve as the start of new birthing grounds for my kin."

He spoke as a blade was ran across his left wrist. Walking past each burial hole, he held out the bleeding arm to allow the blood a reason to be spilled. His blood, to bring them life.

[Modulation]

"I am...complete." Rising up, the man climbed out of the grave, rubbing the dirt out of his hair. It was pure white. Brushing himself off, he pulled his glasses out of the pocket of his labcoat and put them on. Dressed in slacks, a business shirt, and a tie besides that, he looked...cultured. Was this man warlord material? It certainly didn't seem like he was a fighter, and he was only about five-foot-nine. His tie was adorned with the design of a skull and bones at the end, and he looked...young. But his plans had paid off. Feeling his face, and looking at his hands, he smirked. "And the transformation has yielded excellent results."

Looking at the man who had revived him, he bowed, putting his hands back in the pockets of his labcoat. Yes, all of his possessions were still on him, it seems. "Good night to you, sir." It was night, yes. The person was a warrior, in any case. And a practitioner of demonology, much as himself. A faint black aura began to surround him as he gathered energy from the ground. "I'm much obliged for your timely revival. It has helped further my research tremendously." He adjusted his glasses.

"I am Dr. C. It's my pleasure to make your acquaintance."

[Aleksei]

Beneath awning branches his words stroked their fingers through autumn branches so tangible. They shook, not out of fear, but more out of annoyance as his words broke the once easy cavity. Buried minds were far too busy living in cosmic lands and burning them as they walked through heavy dreams of might; far to occupied to quickly come to attention. These dreams came to a sudden halt as an over exaggerated voice hit their usually deaf ears. If he had whispered the incantation would have worked the same way, there was no need for the dramatics or the heavy bravado in his chest to fly like a free bird. His sentences drifted into the rose-inked sky, to be ate up by whatever angels remain.

They stretched to those syllables like a snaked lost within a trance by the work of a magician. The first to rise from the grave was the obvious Doctor who gave his thanks with the mention of his research, and then gave his common name. Next to his own grave was her own, but she continued to simply lay in her spot to listen for any interesting conversation. It was very dark; the sky simply a lithe veil, hiding the secrets they wanted and for a moment she thought if she stared at it long enough it would yield. Nothing. It cared not for her hard green hues or the fire in her hair, instead it welcomed the many pale stars to it's bosom in a motherly hug. It had become slightly silent above her head, making it very apparent that their summoner was waiting to see who else would rise from their earthly grave. It had been the end of the road for so long she had grown comfortable with the worms and dirt, only to now rise to the cool night air.

Swan fingers grabbed the edge of the ragged grave, groping for some constitution of some sort while pulling a fluid body forth. She had lived with deft words and small means, dying in assonance, atonal thirds pushed together as one empty vowled song. The woman wiped away small pieces of dirt from her person, strands of bright red hair flashing across her smooth face and slender shoulders.

"I'm assuming there is a reason for this."

She spoke directly to the man whose blood flowed through her veins. She didn't need to look at his face to know who it was and his intentions were clear as a bell from earlier. There was so much need and heavy hope in their awakening it was hard to ignore such strong emotions. Those simple thought tinkered about the flaming mind as she continued her preening for a few more moments until she was fully satisfied. Black pants hugged slender legs as they dipped themselves into riding boots of the same color; jacket white with sleeves rolled up to her elbows, the inside fabric a sensuous purple; a blouse matching the same purple and hugging the right proportions of her body.

Just because they had been 'dead' didn't mean they couldn't go with style.

[Catalyst.]

As the Doctor rose up out of his grave, Akaru sensed something about the man's spirit and smirked ever so slightly. "And what a good evening this is...." His words, although cut off in mid sentence, were filled with malice and coated with with evil that dripped from his tone. The moon hung high in the sky now, casting a shadow abroad his left side and onto the ground. If one was to have a look at the ground, a deviant form mustered itself from the very shape of Akaru himself within the darkness. "For killing" His gaze shifted up and to the right, falling upon that giant blue/grey wonder ball dimly illuminating the sky. Did the moon truly possess such strange powers, the kind to drive a man mad and bring out the creatures of the night? Or was it all just... Lunacy?

Peering at the moon with a heavy gaze, memories flood in of those he wasn't even sure still existed. Destiny, Scarlett, Jaden, Vash, and his mother; his Queen, Justice Darkfire. A blink broke the stare as the flood washed away in his head, carrying the memories with it. In that moment a breeze blew by with a faint scent upon it. A familiar smell to his senses, a flower that he once seen far far away from here. Could it be? The Blue Rose stood tall and proud next to the dead oak tree nearer the gate. A smile crept along his lips then faded away just as fast as it had appeared. He turned the tide of attention to the second grave now as a rustling sound escaped from there.

A female, clad in stylish clothing and the attitude to boot, Akaru was pleased. She climbed out of the whole and dusted herself off with a sharp question aimed at Akaru. "Yes... I got.. hungry" His sarcasm manifested itself perfectly as it rolled from his silver tongue, figuratively speaking. For a moment his crimson eyes scanned the woman up and down her body. As lustrous and deviantly sexy as she was, for some reason Akaru couldn't find the taste for desire or lust. As a matter of fact, he hasn't felt the need to be sated in quite a few decades. Especially after the vanishing of Scarlet and Destiny, his beautiful sisters. See something not many know about the Darkfire's is that since none of them are 'born' and cannot conceive a child, they are all incest. Quite frankly, all Devils were incest for the same reason. They cannot bare child so no one was truly related. Beautifully ironic and disgusting isn't it? Well 'tis the life of a Devil after all.

[Modulation]

"Killing..." Something was etched into his mind for the moment. A goal. An appointment to keep. This man's blood now ran through his veins, however, which meant he'd have to follow, for the time being. Looking over at the other graves, and at the woman, he observed that there were five of them total. What would one man need five dead souls for, though? And why this graveyard - these graves? It didn't make much logical sense, other than the man was obviously not from this realm. The actions of his shadow spoke for that. Still, the Doctor was intrigued by the entire thing. And, fiddling around, he noted that most of his medical tools were still on his person.

One such tool was his long scalpel. The blade itself was three-and-a-half inches long. The handle was fitted to his hand, and had a small ring at the bottom. Dr. C currently had his index finger in the hole, and was spinning the scalpel absentmindedly. "I hate to be the negative one, here, but what exactly is your intent on bringing us back to this mortal coil?" His aura was still flared up as the spare bits of grass in the graveyard died. Worms and moles in the earth had their life sucked right from them. The dirt itself became blackened. An embodiment of death, the Doctor was now feeling all of the energy around him. It...invigorated him. Made him stronger.

This is why he'd drank the poison now flowing through his veins as if it was always there. Only through death could he achieve this perfection of form. He could alter the flows of life. He was a Demigod.

[Aleksei]

She lulled his response over while eyeing the Doctor and his lame question - did she just not state something similar to that and did the man not answer? His tongue did not paint passion, sunset colors, just simple metaphors dotting the hallows of his once dead bones. This once carcass of a creature didn't fit her protocol of intelligence, even with him just rising from the grave with death still on his breath. They were creatures of great power so his mind should be in its rightful place. This man called upon them and it was only proper to wait for his full response before shoving your foot in his mouth.


Wrinkling her nose in annoyance she moved her pond of attention to the remaining graves freckling the ground. She didn't necessarily remember the cause and reasoning behind her death; surely it had to do something about power or the lack of. Perhaps her last moment of death was spent kissing a poet long and hard, soft and short as they tried to exchange a code word. Logic wars her heart and she knew that her last sunrise wasn't set with such a romantic tone.


Dancing thoughts lingered, twisting, turning her around and around. After some time of dancing with herself she took a seat on the ground, crossing her legs, and started to draw a few pictures in the dirt. This stranger had a taste for something, a very large hunger that needed to be sated with the obvious help from her and the good Doctor. Was there something big brewing?


"I hope whatever you have planned for us is worth going to. If not, I'll happily move back to my grave."