The 100 Layers of Hell

[khanna]

((So, I got an idea that hopefully will help the creativity of people and maybe allow others to dabble in ideas they can't using their own RP characters.

What I am going to do is have stories based in L2 but with each story the tone will grow darker as we approach 100. they don't have to continue a previous story and you're free to write about whatever you want. Let's see how chilling we can get on our journey through hell!))


1) The Material

A cloaked figure sits in a pub in Giran waiting for the arrival of one who has asked through a letter from a servant, to come meet him. The figure is well known in the city for all kinds of dirty work, such as murder, thievery, and other things--most of which carry high prices to carry out. The figure sips his ale while watching the door for anyone new to walk in.

The door of the tavern opens and for a moment the people crowding it turn to see who it is briefly and the noise resumes. the man who walked inside looks of noble descent, wearing fine armor and carrying a well crafted sword. He approaches the counter and asks a few questions to the bartender. the bartender motions to the corner where the figure is seated and the nobleman goes to that table.

"So, you got my message?" He asks as he approaches. The man seated there nods his head, he does not speak. The nobleman sits at the table and begins to explain his plan.

"There is a man who is known to have an Item I would like. He has no plan to sell it but i would like to acquire it."

"That is all? You summon me to steal a mere trinket!?" the figure responds with a caustic laugh.

"No, I shall take care of the trinket, you need to take care of a wizard whom guards it." he says sternly.

"Fine tell me where to find him and some things about where to meet him."

The nobleman and the figure talk through the night of this wizard and his routines through the day. And the price named for the services rendered.

***
The figure waits in an alley as the sky grows dark, waiting for this wizard to appear. He makes himself into one of the homeless in the alley, drinking heavy spirits with them in the cold air. Finally the wizard makes his appearance. The figure waits for the wizard to pass studying him then following briefly. Once they are alone the figure makes his move.

He throws caution to the wind and runs at the wizard full charge, while a blade slips from the sleeve of his robes. The figure lashes out at the wizard to strike, but the strike skips off the wizard’s skin. The wizard turns to face the attacker while his face twists in outrage.

“You miserable wretch!” he continues to bellow. “Of all the people to attack you dare attack me?”

The wizard starts his chanting of a spell and the figure looks on in astonishment. Never before has he been utterly defeated. His dagger should have been strong enough to cut through wards and pierce flesh, however it didn’t. Cursing he throws the weapon down, just as the wizard’s spell hits him and he falls sprawled on his back.

The wizard approaches while raising his ring and spits at the figure on the ground.

“For your act against me, you will serve me.” The wizard says coldly.

The wizard says but a word and the gem on his ring flairs to life and the figure reels in agony. The figure understands then that this is no mere wizard, but a Necromancer. He can feel his soul being wrenched from his body by the powerful magic. He twists and squirms, his body explodes into nothing but intense pain as his life is drained and his senses overwhelmed.

As the last few moments of life flee the figure’s soul is torn free of its mortal coil to forever be tossed in limbo, between realms.

The deed done, Necromancer turns and walks into the darkness, followed by his new servant.

On a distant rooftop, the nobleman who set it all up watches in pleasure as, to what he sees as a menace, dies horribly.

[Aurelia]

The halls seemed colder than normal today. Their smooth polished stone offered no refuge for the sounds made by her footfalls, which seemed to echo down the corridor indefinitely, the only sound battling against the silence. Aurelia barely noticed the chill air though, she made no move to adjust the silken shawl which hung loosely draped over her shoulders. Deep within her, there stirred a chill far colder than the air in the hallway. A bonfire of ice, it crackled and snapped, she stoked it with anger and rage, and it roared with life. Yes, it was certainly cold enough to rival anything even in this land of Elmore.

She felt her fingers light upon the brass handle of the door, and the slight vibration of the small key as it slid into the lock, passing the tumblers within. It was time. She had been dreading this moment. She closed her eyes, taking a breath. For that fraction of a moment there was no hallway, no door, even that inferno of ice within her seemed gone. But then it all came back as she opened her eyes in a rush it cascaded over her, a frigid mountain waterfall. Her fingertips still rested on the cool metal of the door handle. There was no turning back now.

The mechanism inside the door clicked ominously, another sound to echo through the vastness of the hallway. The well oiled hinges offered little resistance as she swung open the door. The room it opened up into was unfurnished, with the exception of a small table set in the center of the room and a pair of chairs. A fireplace sat against the far wall, its belly vacant of any sign of flame, it gave no warmth. None of it interested her though, she saw none of it. From the moment the door had opened she had been unable to look away from the other pair of eyes.

They were younger than hers, a touch rounder perhaps, innocent eyes. They bored into her now though, full of hatred and hurt. The woman they belonged to sat haughtily in one of the two chairs by the small table. She was beautiful, elegant, even regal with long straight black hair, and faint blue skin, the very portrait of her mother in her youth. Her face was expressionless, stoic as stone, but her eyes, those were another matter. "How long am I to remain here, Mother?" Her question splintered the silence into jagged barbs aimed at the woman in the doorway.

The older woman offered a cruel empty smile, her eyes still locked on the younger woman's. "You disappoint me." The smile faded into a frown. "You had such promise. Why would you do this? You throw it all away." Crossing the room she approached the table with the chairs, but did not seat herself. The icy fire within her raged but she fought it back, the flames licked at her heart. It cried for retribution.

"You. Always you." Her tone was flat, with a measure of patience of someone reciting something for the hundredth or so time. "I love Aresan of Jess and I have accepted his proposal. Can you not at least meet him? You will see." Those words were pleasing and her anger faltered as thoughts of the young Dark Elven man replaced her anger with her mother.

The empty chair went flying, flung aside by a blow of the senior woman. It careened into the wall with a solid crash and the sound of splintering wood as one leg separated itself from the rest of the chair. The leg landed less than a foot away, and then for a moment the silence returned. Deep breaths, she told herself as she fought back the icy rage within. Deep breaths. Her words were measured and slow, each syllable sounded out at length for someone who was clearly to daft to understand them otherwise. "He... is.. common." Her words quickened and she placed her palms flat on the table to stare into her daughter's eyes. "Jess, such a filthy low born name. You know how long it has taken us to raise our lineage from what we were? So many sacrifices, I have made, for this House. You are the heir to House Vlasta! Keep him as a pet, as a slave, let him please you in bed, but you must not marry him!"

"We will marry whether you wish it or not. You won't stop me." She folded her arms beneath her chest, sulkily.

Turning away from her daughter the patron of House Vlasta sighed. "I cannot allow you to do that." She walked slowly, gracefully over to the empty hearth, making a slow observation of the empty mantle. Despite the disuse it had fallen into it was crafted by gifted artisans, amid the carved stone were images of various creatures and snow covered pine trees all native to this region of Elmore. "I must preserve the honor of this house. I cannot allow its heir to become the laughing stock of the nobility."

The younger woman gave a sniff of derision. "You will leave me locked in this room until I decide otherwise then? This is the great honor of our house." She rose from the chair to face her mother who remained examining the cold hearth. "I am sorry you cannot accept this. I love him, and we will be wed. Let them laugh, I care not!"

The frozen fire rose. It consumed her, with each wave it crashed over her as molten fire. Aurelia turned to face her daughter, icy fury burning in her teary eyes. "I'm sorry daughter." She managed. "You leave me no choice." Her words filled with grief hid the metalic sound of the thin crystaline blade being drawn.

The girl stepped back, confused and surprised by the sudden change. She opened her mouth, to speak but there was no time. The older woman jabbed, a quick thrust, and the girl felt her strength disappearing. There was no pain. Her hand reached out painted blue nails pining for mercy from her attacker. As she lost consciousness she caught a glimpse of one of the necklaces her mother wore around her neck. How had she not noticed that sooner? The iron heart was so tiny amid all the mithril and gold.

As the winter gale receded the older woman slumped to the ground, over the corpse of her daughter. Her tears mixed with the pooling blood on the floor. The honor of House Vlasta was saved yet again. Quietly, she prayed to Shilen that this was the last of the sacrifices that would be required.

[Sadori]

((Wow... the Mysterious Aurelia is cold!! Very Nice!))

[Sadori]

A smile of satisfaction curled across her dark pink lips as she rose from the bed. Behind her, the lifeless form of a sturdy Bounty Hunter grew rapidly cold without the fluid of life to warm it. The scent of his sweat and their combined lust still filled the air, along with her own signature of jasmine. Her pale skin shone golden in the firelight from the hearth as she moved to a nearby basin. Adding a handful of crushed jasmine blossoms to the tepid water she proceeded to cleanse her last victims scent from her body.

Clean and dressed, she rummaged through her deceased escort's pockets, pack, and few chests that lined the walls. Only a handful of adena and few odd trinkets were to be her gifts tonight. She had not had nearly as much fun as she had wanted to, but under the circumstances it would be better to keep a low profile. As the fire finally died, she moved to the door and quietly closed it behind her as she left the small cabin. The shadows seemed to wrap around her protectively as she moved along the stone and plaster structures to the road. All was silent save the usual wildlife. Stepping into the lamp light, she made her way down the road, laughing silently to herself. It was always entertaining how every man was a "mighty and feared warrior" with a couple of pints to make him bolder. It also never ceased to amuse her when they would fall all over themselves for her attentions when they were sober, and proclaim their undying love in her arms. How short lived that love was. Amusing, but somehow not enough. They were often clumsy or unskilled. Sometimes they were just disgustingly insensitive boors in bed. Those were the ones who rarely lasted long enough to realize their own pleasure fulfilled.

She slowed her pace as she reached Aden. The sleeping town stirred slightly as a guard made their rounds and a couple's laughter and pleasure wafted from an open window, oblivious to danger.

Danger? The so called "vampires" of her homeland disgusted her. Bottom feeders. Allowing their true nature to be diluted and squandered by acts of benevolence and self sacrifice. What was the point of having such a gift if one could not enjoy it? Her own life was one of deriving pleasure from others, giving pleasure, pain, and often release from worldly ties in return. Wasting the gift on filthy brigands and guileless animals was deplorable. Wretchedly disgusting.

Growing more hesitant as she drew near the En'Eveil residence, she struggled with herself and thought again about how she had been slighted. By all rights the Blade Dancer should have been her's all along. Who was this Olorae to receive a gift such as her from this impotent goddess? Climbing the three broad stone steps she leaned against the doors, listening. She could hear them. Hear her. The Vampyress pressed herself against the door softly, whimpering ever so slightly as she recalled the smell, sight, and touch of the dark skinned dancer. With a growl of annoyance at her own weakness, she tore herself away, cursing at the building as she made her way back to the road.

She needed a new distraction.

[zethrodraithius]

A sudden male shriek pierced the Gludio night silence, killing it with absolute authority as a brief scuffle ensued. Then the sound of something heavy being dragged further tortured the silent air.

First impressions were very important, Polyndra reflected as she looked at her bound captive with disgust. It had been so obvious to her that this so-called captain was a pig of a human male when she first met him. So she thought it was long past time that someone taught him a lesson about Kamaels and women in general.

The Gludio captain at first wondered what was going on. Judging from the sensations he was recieving, he seemed to be bound and slowly opened his eyes to confirm the fact. What he saw frightened him, for only a few inches away were the cold pink eyes of a Kamael. He gulped nervously, "What did I ever do to you?" He asked groggily, wishing he'd stayed silent a few seconds later.

Screams rent the night around Gludio, creatures were restless as the screams increased in pitch. The crescendo of female like shrieking sent children into their parents beds crying at the noises. The town guards shivered at the tone of the screaming, and dare not investigate, for fear of what they would find.

The Gludio captain stared listlessly at the wall in front of him, his ideas of manliness gone, replaced with nothing but fear and loathing. He had gone into shock before the kamael female had left him where he was.

"Captain," The voice spoke with contempt, "Your first mistake was to think you could get away with attempting to harrass a Kamael. We don't take that sort of thing lightly, as I'm sure you've found tonight." A small titter of amusement crept into the Kamael's voice as she bid farewell to the humbled captain. "Enjoy your... gender, Captain." A giggle was heard that faded away as the lightly crimson skinned Kamael disappeared into the early hours of the morning.

((short, dark.. Considering that I first went thru the first transfer quest on a kamael and the impression the captain left on me, well I dislike that npc a bit. I apologize for the shortness, but I hope it served the purpose.))

[khanna]

5) The Execution

The sun gazes down from a calm sky at the city of Aden. The late spring is approaching and the temperature is quite comfortable. The city is busy with the common routines of folk that have lived there all their lives. Regular exports and imports of caravans from neighboring cities and territories, weapon smiths working the furnaces crafting fine materials, and even the lowly thief finds his own form of business this day.

Deep in the heart of the city square people are starting to gather. If one were to glance quickly, they would surly think a celebration is to take place, but on this day this is not exactly the case. In the very center stands a wooden gallows and enough ropes hanging for four people.

Once there are enough people gathered to witness this event, the Lord of the town motions for his most trusted General to bring the prisoners from the dungeons to the square. The general departs and the Lord speaks to the people so all can hear.

"Good people of Aden! As you no doubt are aware our new king has thought fit to grant this execution ceremony to show that unlawfulness and villainy will not be tolerated in our fair streets!"

The general comes into view of the gallows as the lord speaks. He is leading four people all in chains with a black hooded man walking behind. He is known to all as the executioner. The men lead the prisoners onto the gallows and puts them in place. First a woman is put into place, a rope fitted tightly around her neck, with a black hood fitted over her head. Next an elderly man, then a younger man, and a child barely old enough to grow a beard. The lord speaks.

"These vile filth seen before you have been sentenced by our King and condemned to death! The charges range from murder, to petty thievery, and anything else between them! Our Lord hath judged and now the law will see justice! Watch closely, people of Aden, at the fate of these poor souls, so that one day you yourselves won't share a similar fate!"

With that the Lord steps aside and gives the executioner a nod to start. The executioner walks to the woman first. the crowd is so quiet that you can hear his heavy boots clack against the wooden planks. With a swift kick at the board beneath where she stands it gives way, and the woman drops the noose tightening around her throat. With a sickening CRACK her neck snaps and she no longer moves. The crows cheers.

the executioner moves the the child next. The crowd hushes as they watch. He breaks the plank holding the child up, his noose tightens but instead of a crack, the child dangles. He tries to scream but his windpipe is clamped shut by the rope and his own weight. He swings feebly to get loose, but he is unable to see. His lungs burn and cry for air, but her cannot get any. As time passes on he stops his attempt to free himself and allows death to take him. By this time the executioner has moved on.

Next is the stong young man. The boards are broken under him and he plumets. A sickening CRACK is heard and instad of hanging there like the woman the weight of his body causes his head to separate. his head still in the noose and his body now lay on the ground. Still going through the death throes, the crowd watching it all. Wet blood splatters the ground and the execution plank.

The crowd, now whipped into a frenzy and into blood lust watches the event and takes it all in. Everyone cheering at the brutality of the event.

The executioner goes to the old man last. He kicks the boards out from under his feet and his neck breaks with a CRACK as well.

The Lord, General, and Executioner start to leave, leaving the gallows up so that the people of Aden may look upon it and remember this day, and so that those who come to this city see this example.

The crowd dies down from it's blood lust and starts to dissipate. The wind no longer blows, the birds no longer sing their grand songs, and the forest beasts doesn't stir. The lands of Aden take note of the lives that are lost on this mournful day.

((C'mon guys! we have 98 more stories to go! hop to it!))

[zethrodraithius]

A Kamael's Wing


It has been a long road to this point,
A journey that I am still in the begining of.
I fear that sometimes the Elders are deceived,
Not hearing of the remarks unintentionally received.


Polyndra sighed and rubbed her eyes before continuing to write in the flickering candle light that lit the part of the room from the night.


I hear all sorts of words to characterize us differently,
"Flapper" is one of the more heard ones.
Most of the races it seems are pointy eared,
So what to call the humans? "Round ears"?


Polyndra eyed what had been a part of her since ever. The wing that once had been on her back was now draped on the bed of her room at the Inn. She frowned and focused on the paper.


Today some idiot thought he could get top dollar for a Kamael wing,
What an idiot he was for thinking that Kamael wings stay a pristine white after being cut from a Kamael.
Apparently there are rumors he has been executed today,
I can only hope those sayings are true.

That man killed a Kamael earlier when he hacked off my wing,
Tonight I will become no more.
My sister will have to carry on without me,
Which I'm sure she'll be able to do.

I'm leaving instructions for my wing to be delivered to my sister,
For no longer am I Kamael without my wing.
I'm sorry Sister Lafyel, but this is the last you will from me.
I love you and uncle Zethy always.

Goodbye.
Polyndra Dy' Xarajon


Wordlessly amidst her silent weeping, Polyndra sealed the letter and placed the parchment beside the instructions for the wing, then softly blew out the candle.

---------------------------------------

The innkeeper stared at the stained Kamaelian wing as the dwarves very carefully packaged the fragile appendage for shipment. He remembered the beautifully winged near-angel who had suffered at a greedy person's hand. It had been quiet shocking to step into that room and see nothing but charred flesh and ashes.

It had been the wing on the bed that had captured his attention however. What once had looked vibrant and full of life now was a pale shadow of its former glory and shine. The deceased had been kind enough to leave enough gold to cover the costs of shipping and cleaning.

Deciding he needed to get back to work, he watched as the dwarfs carried the remains to a delivery carriage before he turned to his books.

------------------------------------------

Lafyel Dy' Xarajon stood beside her uncle watching as the dwarves placed the oddly shaped package on the table and then left quickly. Curiousity quickly turned to shock as the aged feathers were revealed.

The wing of a Kamael is what defines a Kamael. To see a Wing without the body attatched is near blasphemy to the light crimson skinned.

Zethro quietly slipped the sealed letter into Lafyel's trembling fingers and excused himself from the room, Respecting her shock and needing to recover himself.

As the door closed, trembling fearing fingers broke the seal and nervous scared eyes began to read....

------------------------------------------------

The elder Dy' Xarajon realized that an upset Kamael is a Very Bad Thing. Seeing Lafyel on the bring of literally shooting fire out of her eyes was Beyond Bad into the Worst Possible Realm of circumstances.

That night Lafyel hugged her sister's wing to her in grief, tears long having been exhausted by early hours and hours of weeping.

After Lafyel had cried herself to sleep, Zethrodraithius pondered the words of his niece's last letter, never having imagined the scene or the possibility of having his wing cut off. His eyes caressed the aged wing visually, frowning internally.

Who would pay for wings of the Kamael, and why? Unable to sleep, he started a letter to the High Elder about the issue of Kamael and their wings. Granted he was exiled from the Isle of Souls, but this was something that absolutely needed the Elder council's attention.

((might continue this arc.. It has potential to remain dark as it is.))