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 The Death of The Baroness

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TheLadyAcacia
Oracle of Shub-Niggurath
TheLadyAcacia


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Age : 67
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PostSubject: The Death of The Baroness   The Death of The Baroness I_icon_minitimeSat Apr 25, 2009 12:51 am



The main hall at Tower Crag was full of celebration... the Raider who had joined the war against MARVEL were congratulating each other for whipping the Vampires and sending them back to their dingy caves to lick their wounds and wonder what hit them. Howls of Victory rang throughout the valley below the tower, and not one soul stirred in fear of drawing attention this night.

Suddenly the heavy front door slammed open ... all eyes turned to see the Master, Gloomfang, stride in carrying a woman . At first glance the clan thinks her a captive vampire brought to be played with before dying amongst the Werewolves, but one look at Gloomfang's face tells a different story. Another look and the clan gasps, crystal blue eyes gaze about the room, lying in his arms is the Baroness Acacia. Too weak to hold her werewolf form she has turned in to a stunningly beautiful woman, but one glace tells them she is dying.

As the master lies her gently on the hearth, she weakly smiles at him and reaches up to caress his blood smeared fur, the Baroness shows no fear this is the one she loves above all others, she looks about the hall and weakly speaks "Why are you not celebrating this victory?" as a spasm of pain cause her to close her eyes, a small tear slowly tracks down her ivory white cheek she turns to Gloomfang and whispers "remember with the first new moon after my death, I must be at Cromwell Manor for my return, you must perform the ritual of my return". Gloomfang closes his eyes and wails, wondering if he truly has the power to bring his lady back from Hell!

The Baroness looks about the hall, "I charge each and everyone of you with the protection of my body till the next new moon", then she smiles at her beloved Gloomfang touches his cheek and her hand falls to the hearth, The Baroness Acacia is gone...

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Gloomfang
Son of Azathoth
Gloomfang


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PostSubject: Re: The Death of The Baroness   The Death of The Baroness I_icon_minitimeSat Apr 25, 2009 10:13 am

Along the Shunned Road, deep in the Heart of the Wolf Lands, the werewolves of the clan crouched and howled their outrage and consternation before the haunted and accursed pile known as Cromwell Manor. In the east, the distant peak of Tower Crag seemed to frown down upon the scene as the night birds and bats cowered in their caves before the unearthly cries from the throats of the massed lycanthropes.

And within a moldy and worm-eaten boudoir, the master of Lycan at War stood brooding over the majestic body of his lady, the Baroness Cromwell. In the blood-crazed savagery of his mind, there reigned no ordinary passion; his love, the mistress of the clan, was gone. Taken by the dark powers.

And now, by fire and thunder he would take her back.

His fur bristled as his ears swiveled to take in more clearly the music of the night's children; and a sympathetic growl, a basso vibration, came from his lupine muzzle while the joints in his hands popped from excessive flexing.

"Now that she is here," an accented yet equally bestial voice said from behind and to his left, "what remains, my Lord?"

Gloomfang the Devourer, the grand-spawn wolf-son of Vale's most nightmarish killer, said nothing at first. He did not need to indulge in facetious banter to his number two. Shargrailar knew his place.

The knight of the Red Wyrm justly kept to his master's side, his own wolfish senses afire with anticipation. Cold he was, a grim quiet predator who had seen centuries of bloodshed in the name of his now extinct bloodline. Now in sworn fealty to Gloomfang and the Baroness, he knew that to push his lord meant death. Merely to ask questions was more fitting.

When at last the master spoke, his monstrous voice was laden with menace. "My hideout. My sanctum. I will return there. You will wait here for a day and a night. If any human, demon or vampire dares to approach within a league of Cromwell Manor, you and the clan will hang the raw meat of its corpse from the walls! None save werewolf-kind are welcome in this place. Do not fail me, Shargrailar."

"I will not," Shargrailar said, every word emphasized with a snarling passion, the dark honor that drove him giving vent to his burning craving to bring death to the enemies of the clan. "Do you wish us to make any preparations for the ritual?"

Gloomfang took one last longing look at the body of his dark love as his saliva dripped in foul puddles on the rotting planks of the floor. "Yes. Find me a platter.”

“A platter, my lord?”

“Yes. I may return with a head suitable for it.”

====================

The bones told her he was coming. And no power in Heaven, Earth, or Hell would stop him. He was too powerful. And if she killed him, his clan would see that it took her three months to die. Thus she waited. And she cast the bones again.

Always the same. There was no stopping the wheel of destiny. A skirmish of wills loomed large in the future. But perhaps she could amuse herself in the midst of inevitable fate. Yes, perhaps…

====================

“It’s been too long, my lord Gloomfang,” the thin papery voice croaked.

The answer was like the omen of distant thunder. “Not long enough, Vladimira. I may taste your flesh yet, so take care how you defy me in my own house.”

The witch tried and failed to straighten her bowed backbone. Yet she managed to stare upwards with contempt before the looming predator that now confronted her in the hall of the ornate hideout. “It seems like only yesterday that we first crossed paths in the grotto. Ah, the memories…”

Gloomfang began to circle his guest, his eyes glowing crimson in the half-light. “You know why I summoned you here. Do not dissemble the issue.”

“Of course I know. The howls coming from Lycanwood are not the only means of bringing news to the curious. My master enjoys the soul of your beloved Baroness even now.

“However,” she said as she saw the flaming hatred flare up in the werewolf’s eyes, “he is willing to part with her. For a price.”

Gloomfang began to claw at the air, his taloned hands longing to seek the throat of the evil crone. “A price! He hides behind the likes of you and he dares speak of a price! I care not if your master is the lord of the Abyss himself. He is a coward!”

The witch hissed but when she saw her sibilance did not move the werewolf lord, she grew quiet again. “Do not forget, my lord, that I know your secret. You may be a descendant of the great Alban LeVay, but your doom reaches out from beyond the glory days of Vale. Your bloodline is far more venerable. Do not forget who the sire of the LeVay line was.”

“I haven’t forgotten. And that is why you are still alive.”

The witch cackled mirthlessly, the dry laughs wracking her ancient body. “And as you are the direct descendant of Feronius the Ferocious, your line is forever bound to me and my sisters. And we will exact payment for our help. Your Baroness will live again, but we will expect a reward.”

“I despise you!” Gloomfang growled. “By Shub-Niggurath, if it were not for the ancient pact, I would have long since picked my teeth with your miserable bones and given your entrails to the feeder beasts in the dungeons of Tower Crag.”

“Perhaps. But you will not do so today. Do not fear. You will find what you need when you return to Cromwell Manor. My sisters have… connections… in that part of the world. The vampires will not hinder us. Baroness Cromwell will live again. You have my word.”

The gigantic werewolf bared his teeth in a wordless snarl of pure rage. “Your word?” he hissed, the saliva dripping from his hungry maw. “Your word!!!”

And before Vladimira could react, Gloomfang the Devourer had seized her by the throat in one massive hand. He held her above his head, the muscles, veins, and tendons of his monstrous body standing forth like steel cables. His eyes flashed fire and his fur bristled.

“Know this, hag!” he roared. “I will have Lady Cromwell by my side at all costs. If you dare to betray me, if you blast me again with your treachery, then the Inquisition will be the least of your worries.”

The crone began to turn blue as the shrieks of her nemesis flung spittle and old blood into her wrinkled face.

But Gloomfang continue to crush her throat. “You believe me to be merely your enemy. But should you turn from your pact, you will find me…


“TEN… THOUSAND… TIMES MORE TERRIBLE!!!!”

Gloomfang flung the hag from him and bellowed a challenge to shake the walls as her body slid across the floor to crash into an old credenza, upsetting the glass goblets that lay there, sending them crashing down to shatter loudly into millions of blade-like fragments. She clutched her throat, gasping and retching.

“Get out of my sight!”

As the witch fled, the master of Tower Crag took great satisfaction in the terror he saw in her eyes.

Perhaps Shargrailar would not need the platter after all.
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TheLadyAcacia
Oracle of Shub-Niggurath
TheLadyAcacia


Posts : 178
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PostSubject: Re: The Death of The Baroness   The Death of The Baroness I_icon_minitimeSat Apr 25, 2009 12:51 pm

Her beauty in death was unrivaled, dark auburn hair that surrounded her body like a shroud, Ivory skin that seemed to glow from within, uncommon stature for a woman and slender almost to a fault yet there are no mistakes that she is woman in every sense of the word. Lying in state at Cromwell Manor, among the filth and decay of the once grand home of Sir Roderick Cromwell, she looks like she could be peacefully sleeping.

Should an unwary traveler stumble upon this sight their death would be swift and merciless. For this is no ordinary woman, this is the once venerated Mistress of the clan Lycan At War!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Although she looks to be dead, Acacia screams from the depths of Hell! "I Will Rise Again!" She can feel the new moon approaching, and waits for her one love to bring her back to life. Gloomfang the Devourer, Master of Tower Crag and Slave to the wiles of the Baroness Acacia.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
In the last war with the vampires the Baroness Acacia went into battle knowing she would die that day, for not only was she a Werewolf but she also had the SIGHT, a rare gift handed down from her mothers side of the family and not known by her beloved until the day of the battle. As they took a stand waiting for the vampire's attack she turned to Gloomfang and said, "I will die this day, I've seen it". Stunned Gloomfang asked "What are you saying? How do you know this?" Acacia turned from the look of horror on her beloveds face "I have been gifted with The Sight, I've known for a while I would not survive this battle." "Then for all that is unholy do not go into this war!" he begged her. "This I cannot do, I'm weak and need to be reborn." With a stunned look Gloomfang grabs her shoulders, "What say you reborn? Is not Dead, Dead?" Crystal blue eyes look into glowing red eyes and see the anguish, "I will rise with the new moon, but you must perform the ritual or I will spend the rest of my eternity in Hell!" Hugging Acacia to his chest, "I vow on this day to do everything in my power to bring you back to me!"


His howl of anger was bone chilling , the Vampires approaching paused, but not heeding the warning approached the battle field.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
From the deepest corner of Hell Acacia could feel the new moon approaching, "Please my love, Bring Me To Life!"
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Gloomfang
Son of Azathoth
Gloomfang


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PostSubject: Re: The Death of The Baroness   The Death of The Baroness I_icon_minitimeSun Apr 26, 2009 8:52 pm

The moon shone pale and cold through the rotunda in the great throne room of Tower Crag, casting demoniac shadows through the baroque iron lattice far overhead. The wind whistled through the broken casements and rattled the bones that lay strewn in ghoulish heaps. Meanwhile, the screams arose from the ventilator grates, echoes of agony and horror from slaves kept as pets or food.

And some came from the final cries of those who would cease to be human and join the army of Lycan at War.

Amidst the shadows, Gloomfang sprawled on his throne of black granite and regarded his crouching servants. A long tongue lapped at the air as Soulreaper slowly swayed back and forth, his cobalt eyes flitting to every flicker of movement in the dank chamber. And next to him, sliding sinuously along the floor with easy grace, the newly-turned Sugarbaby bared her fangs and gazed on her lord with expectation.

To any human the two werewolves would have been the objects of sheer terror, but for the lord of Tower Crag, they were subject only to his fierce scrutiny. One of Gloomfang’s claws scraped idly on the arm of his stony station. “Hear my commands, my minions.”

“We hear,” the two werewolves said in unison as they returned their master’s gaze.

The two orbs of fire that shone from above the black throne never wavered, hovering in the air like two bloody will-o-the-wisps. “My love… your mistress… awakes. Soon.”

Soulreaper and Sugarbaby growled in anticipation. “Glorious news, master,” the former said.

“And she will awaken in glory. No one will stand in our way to bring this magnificent object to pass.”

Then Gloomfang arose and glided towards his followers. “Soon, denizens of the grotto will arrive at Cromwell Manor. You know why they come.”

“Yes, Master Gloomfang,” Sugarbaby said.

“You are my stealthy servants. You are my finest sneaks, my quiet ones. You will not be noticed during the ritual.”

“No one will see us, Master,” Soulreaper growled. “What are your commands?”

===============

The servants had left and Gloomfang ran free through Lycanwood towards the old manor along the Shunned Road. His muscles propelled him forward at breakneck speed, and as the moon rose high, he forced himself to run even faster.

For he heard the call.

Please my love…

He leaped forward over rock and rift, leaping in and out of trees both twisted and tall. Faster. Faster!

Please…

He hurled aside boulder and branch. Desire, burning desire. Restoration and revenge. Faster. Faster.

Bring Me To Life.

The deer was easily brought down. The frenzy was on him. Claws and teeth sank into flesh, cracked bone and burst organs. His fur was soaked. The hunger. The Power.

Bring Me To Life!!

Under the mocking moon, the lord of the clan screamed out his oath. “You… will… live!!!”

It was assured. No obstacle, no resistance, no betrayal would prevent the return of the Lady Cromwell.

Gloomfang’s blood-drenched muzzle drizzled crimson on the unholy ground of Lycanwood as his gore-encrusted claws effortlessly tore the hapless animal in half.

“I swear it, my love. I swear it!”
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Gloomfang
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Gloomfang


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PostSubject: Re: The Death of The Baroness   The Death of The Baroness I_icon_minitimeMon Apr 27, 2009 11:41 am



“I see you are prepared,” Vladimira croaked from beneath her ritual hood.

The enormous blood-soaked figure behind her rumbled deep in his throat, causing the black candles to rattle in their silver casings. Gloomfang only had eyes for the picturesque and prostrate form upon the bed in Cromwell Manor. The ichor of the animal he had slaughtered on his way here had given him strength and to spare: strength he would soon pass on to she who lay in state.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” thewitch said, chuckling in her aged throat. “Prepare the blue flame. We begin, my sisters.” Then, motioning to the other hooded figures who stood in a circle round the bed, she began to chant.

Imhirkhoost lach-tamask. Iswa noshwuth…

The howls from outside began almost immediately. The members of the clan knew what was happening as did Gloomfang, on an instinctual, spiritual level. He hated the crones and their ways, the dangerous pact that had been made centuries ago. He longed to be free on his own recognizace, to hunt beside his lady and clan mates free of debts and the foolish bargains of his ancestors. But for now he waited. For now, the result was all.

Ackha ackharium, khar kharchorth. Huuiehah!

Slowly the soul flame began to build above the corpse. A ball of brilliant blue that shone like a newly-born sun, it hovered over the body of Baroness Acacia Cromwell, bathing her in its unholy light as the coven’s chanting grew louder.

Ia! Shub-Niggurath! Dho-hna, dho-hna kharchorth.

Gloomfang began to salivate uncontrollably as the baying from his servants on the manor house grounds formed a cacophonous chorus of fantastic nightmare. He could smell their longing, the same fervent, overriding ache to stabilize the clan and regain their lady.

The flame was now an inferno, a blaze that began to scorch the sheets of the bed without touching the body that lay upon them. Now was the moment.

Gloomfang the Devourer, lord of Tower Crag, stepped forth and lifted the arm of his love. A fierce motion and his teeth sank into the dead flesh, the blood of the animal mingling with the cold veins.

Imparting life.

Gloomfang moved back lest he be scorched by the soulfire. He snarled as the chanting grew to a horrid crescendo, the boudoir filling with a nightmarish presence from forbidden spheres of horror.

Ia! Ia! Cthulhu fhtagn! Dho-hna R’lyeh Cromwell! Ia, Ia, Ia!!

The flame burst forth and drew itself back, preparing to impact the body and refuse the soul. Any moment… any moment…

And before Gloomfang could react, Vladimira had produced a silver dagger from beneath her cloak and plunged it toward the heart of his love!

He roared in outrage, but in a split second, he understood that he was too late. This was the price the witches wanted. The Baroness would live, but forever bodiless, trapped in the soul fire, a slave to the will of the grotto hags. He had been cheated, used.

He saw the blade descend toward the heart of his love and howled in despair. He could not save her. He was too late!
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TheLadyAcacia
Oracle of Shub-Niggurath
TheLadyAcacia


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PostSubject: Re: The Death of The Baroness   The Death of The Baroness I_icon_minitimeMon Apr 27, 2009 1:11 pm

She could feel the pull of the flame, it was a cold flame drawing her from the depths of Hell. She sensed her love Gloomfang, The Devourer, she had seen this moment before her death and knew of the deceit of the Witch Vladimira, she was prepared.

As the flame pulled her soul closer to the body that lay waiting for her rebirth, she heard the anguished howls of her love, the time was drawing nigh. She heard the chanting, ah yes there were the sisters also, but she had seen their destruction by Gloomfang.

HURRY!!! HURRY!!! I must reach her before the foul deed is done!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
She felt the bite of her love, YES! Give me your strength! As she drew closer to the flame she again heard his howl of outrage, the hag had shown herself too soon, the Baroness was closer than she had judged.

In an instant crystal blue eyes opened, as the silver dagger began it's decent toward her heart, a deep savage growl was heard. She had turned on the instant of awakening, her clawed hand shot out form the flame knocking the blade out of Vladimira's hand, the witch had no warning as her throat was ripped open by the she wolf that now howled her rebirth. With the blood of her beloved Gloomfang and the fresh kill of the witch, she felt the fire burning through her, strengthening her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Crystal blue eyes scanned the room, she was back and ravenous. Outside the howls of the clan raised a chorus in triumph! The Mistress was once again whole.

Looking about the room, her senses aware of the towering beast that watched her every move, "Am I not pleasing to you My Lord?" Turning his full gaze upon her, Gloomfang snarled, "you could have warned me of the Hag's deceit" lowering her head knowing she had caused him pain, "No, I saw this moments before my death, had I known I would have warned you, but part of my rebirth had to be the mingling of your blood with the witches. She knew that, and chose to try and stop it."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
As they walked through the manor door, the clan and many a raider stood and raised their voices in triumph! Casting her eyes about the ruins of the Cromwell courtyard, she was impressed by the turnout. She raised her blood soaked muzzle to the New Moon and rejoiced with the clan.

"The Baroness lives no more,!" Gasps of shock echo through the clan as she continues, "The Lady Acacia has come back from Hell. I will stay at Cromwell Manor to gain my strength and bring into the clan new blood." Turning to her beloved, "With your permission, My Lord, I would start a training clan for Lycan At War."
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Gloomfang
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PostSubject: Re: The Death of The Baroness   The Death of The Baroness I_icon_minitimeMon Apr 27, 2009 8:39 pm

Gloomfang gazed into Acacia's eyes, the hellfire in them reflected in her azure depths. "You asked me if you pleased me, my lady," he said.

Gloomfang snarled in satisfaction as the fierce lady of Cromwell manor raked a claw over his arm, drawing a crimson bead. "And are you?" she said, a tone in her voice, menacing yet darkly playful.

"I am indeed pleased," the clan master replied as he bared his teeth. "And as long you continue to be as magnificent in the kill as you were tonight, I shall remain pleased."

A fierce roar escaped his throat as he flung his monstrous face to the sky. Acacia and the clan members howled in antiphonal response. "You have my permission and my blessing," he growled lustily. "Seek and turn those who would shed their weak mortal frames and hunt with us!"

The twin growls came from behind. Gloomfang and Acacia turned to see Soulreaper and Sugarbaby dragging two forms in robes. Behind them came Shargrailar, bearing himself like the dark knight he was. "My master and mistress," he said, "your servants bring you these wretched hags as an offering."

"They're still alive," Sugarbaby said as she licked her muzzle in hunger. "But not for long, master?"

For a long moment, Gloomfang stared at the two battered witches, his breath coming in sterterous heaves of red-hot ire. But he then took a step back. "You have done well, my minions, to capture them as I commanded. How I long to feed on their miserable frames. But they are not mine to kill."

Then he turned to the newly resurrected lady of the manor. "Their lives are yours, my love."

Then he gazed at the two crones who huddled miserably below. "But know this, betrayers of Tower Crag. Your heads will be returned to the grotto as a token. Know that we will hunt your kind until you fill our bellies. Know that we will blot you out from the face of history. And not even your abysmal master will save you from our wrath.

"For we are Lycan at War! In that knowledge, despair and die."

Gloomfang turned and strode forth from the scene, his inhuman senses easily taking in the screams of the witches as his dark mistress and his minions fell upon them.
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