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[ Ravenspire ] The Coldest Embrace

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Treachery and treason were t he only words to describe the assassination attempt on the Black Queen.. His Queen!! Marichi was furious when the information had reached his ears from the darkness. It paid to have allies but even still that did not atone for his lack of presence. Mission orders or not Marichi should have been present. 

Now here he was strolling the Kadia halls; his fangs and lethal intent on striking down the said man who orchestrated the assault. Corvin would soon come to know if the Red Marshals wraith and yet, Marichi couldn't shake the feeling of dread.. Odd as it may be for the vampyre to feel a thing, yet this emotion stuck like ice within ones veins. This empire was not one to trifle with due to their technology. Their suits were something beyond comparison and even he admitted that they seemed to be versatile adversaries. 

Clutching his battle axe in hand, he seemed to vanish into the nearest of shadows evading the guards that strolled through the halls. Shifting through the shadows he bounced through the darkest corners of the Castle till he found himself in Corvin's room. Spacious and somewhat amusing to look at no doubt. 

Marichi remained silent as his gazed through the darkness at the interior bed room. Clutching the Battle Axe in hand the vampyre guardian stepped forth from the darkness. "Corvin you have committed treason upon the Black Queen, your punishment is death!!" Hissing out loud he dashed towards the man at a inhuman speed being several paces faster than an average humans running pace. 

He gripped the axe in both hands holding it to his left side the man planted his right foot forward before pivoting at his hips. Swinging the axe swiftly it blurred through the air leaving a crimson streak. Marichi aimed to cleave the man in half at the waist. He waisted no time in making the first move. The force behind the swing would shatter compacted stone.  @Alexei

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The vampire’s presence had been known to him the moment the foul undead set foot on his nation. The very soil of Ravenspire, of every city that had been built or rebuilt after the Purge and Progression, was suffused with his influence. The Corvinite Obelisks, built in his name so that the Faithful may forever feel his presence, the protection of the Lord Patriarch, the God-Emperor of Mankind with every breath they took, every move they made, and every exaltation of his name during their prayers. They knew that he listened to them, guided them on the long road to the ascension of all mankind, and their manifest destiny of supremacy over not just the world, but the stars beyond it.

So when Marichi snuck his way into his stronghold, he knew. He could feel the seething hatred of the abomination, his intent to lay low a man who so easily carried the false blame of the assassination attempt. In truth he knew not why the creature had come, in truth he cared little. Heathens, heretics, non-humans and dæmons have all made attempts to end his life. They had all ended in failure. Now their tombstones line the floor of his hall, on which he danced with his wife, or made passionate love to her, bringing her to the heights of ecstasy no other man could ever hope to dream.

He allowed the man to use his abilities to shadow walk, to slip quickly and quietly by his TEMPLARs. There was no reason to get them involved, the leech was so single minded in his focus. He came to challenge him directly, then so be it. When Marichi entered the room he would find the God-Emperor standing before him in full regalia. Black power armor of the latest design, though his head was bare. He was a handsome man, his black hair, like spun night; fell in luxurious waves down his broad back and shoulders, framing a stern and handsome face. A face in which sat eyes darker than any void, with a depth of wisdom that spanned the many millennia of Mankind’s existence. He was a tall man, imposing, the ideal example of humankind’s potential.

What was shocking was his youthfulness. No doubt the Red Marshal had heard of Corvinus’ advanced years, his failing health. What stood before him was a reality that made such descriptions false. He looked no older than a man in his early twenties, vibrant, strong, full of life. Corvinus exuded strength and authority, his Area of Influence bore down on the vampire with tyrannical authority. It stated that his kind had no right to exist, that he was an affront to nature, a disgusting affront to the purity of Man. Marichi did not merely stand before a man, he stood before the one true God of Man. Rivaled only by the Lord of Veins.

The next most notable feature of Corvinus was the weapons he held ready. Nightbringer sat in his right hand, the hand-and-a-half blade that had led the righteous genocide that cleansed Kadia. It was a slightly longer and thicker than those of its ilk. It's black blade seemed to contain the very universe within it. Stars, nebula, even galaxies seemed to have been hammered into the blade upon forging. A prophecy. That Mankind would one day conquer the stars themselves. He held it easily, as if it were but an extension of himself.

In his left hand was a dueling dagger of peerless beauty. Its long blade designed to kill as much as parry. Orphan-Maker it was named, a blade he had carried with him since he was thirteen. It had been the blade of a foreign knight, the man who raped and murdered his mother before his eyes, leaving the blade in her throat as some kind of twisted joke. He had tracked the man down, carrying the dagger with him. He had came upon him in the night, one by one slitting the throats of his men. Then it was his turn, he ended him slowly, made him suffer and look into the eyes of his killer. A boy no less. That had been his blooding.

He said nothing as the man shouted his condemnation, claimed him a traitor. He simply looked down on him with contempt, black eyes viewing him as an inferior corpse that should not be walking around and speaking as though he had authority over him. Then suddenly the vampire lashed out with his battle axe. Corvin’s stance had long since been set in anticipation, his sword held forward in the relaxed manner of the Kadian low guard for dueling, the tip angled slightly towards the ground. Orphan-maker was equally relaxed, yet gave the distinct impression it was ready to strike. His legs were spread evenly apart, so that he could not be knocked off balance, yet was ready to move any direction at a moment's notice. He presented his right side, making him a smaller target.

Suddenly the Red Marshal lashed out with a great and cleaving stroke, aiming to end him rightly by cutting him from left to right. He had seen the attack coming, such a large weapon was easy to predict. He stepped back half a pace as the tip of his sword slid between the beard of the great axe and the upper portion of the haft. Corvinus directed the axe to the right, his body cleanly away from his half pace retreat, and then upwards, as he then lunged forward with a great blitz of speed. His strength was no doubt surprising, as was his speed, far beyond what a normal human was capable of, indeed even greater than that of a vampire. Orphan-Maker lashed out sinuously as the distance suddenly closed between them. The edge sliced his belly cleanly, his innards slithering out like wet eels. His black eyes bored into Marichi, cold and pragmatic. No pity. No mercy. He lunged his left arm into the wound, all the way to the elbow as the blade of his dagger found the foul undead’s heart.

With one final lunge he ended his unlife, granted him the mercy of true death as his influence pierced directly into his body. He pulled away, freeing his arm as the vampire slumped limply to the ground. He shook the blood free from his dagger and sheathed it at his thigh. He kept his sword in hand, offering only one small symbol of respect for a fallen enemy. He raised Nightbringer before him, staring into the flat of the blade. He turned his wrist so that the fine killing edge was presented before flourishing it. He sheathed it cleanly and stooped to pick up the axe as he ordered for the guards to come and clean the mess up.

Edited by Alexei

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Was this reality? Was this really it? It was and rightfully so, sadly it was before a foe who frowned upon his existence. The pivoting of his blade brought him to instant demise. 

The cutting of his flesh brought no pain.. it was comfortable and almost welcoming to feel the blade. A subtle cough could be heard before a groan as the arm plunged to his heart. Pathetic really, was he wrong? Perhaps he was wrong and had the wrong target.. He would never know, however it did not matter.. 

He could no longer run from the past. He was meant to perish and yet he had spent time trying to regain some semblance of it..

Nay.. His walk was done.. The coldest embrace clutched his soul and carried him hence.. Marichi was no more..

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