An Uncomfortable Silence

Ashmer

The players:

Blanche:
She is a hardy Human that might have been considered pretty had she not been so uncaring about her appearance. Roughly about five feet and some in height with a thin, lithe figure, there is not much about her that would warrant a second glance. A double handful of freckles and scarring dot along the curve of her pale cheeks and continue to spread down the length of her neck to her shoulders. Her sandy blonde hair has grown in many fluffy, moppish layers, the long locks styled with no particular concern for presentation. Peering out beneath the wispy fringe of her bangs, her dark eyes typically lack any strong force of personality or confidence.
She is wearing:
a deck of Tarot cards, clipped to the belt of her robes
a voluminous, hooded robe, hanging open, with many drowning layers
high-waisted sand canvas shorts, rising high up on her thighs
a deeply-cowled, sleeveless sepia shirt, exposing her collarbone and ribs
a pair of opaque, open-toed stockings, moulded to her thin legs

Lin:
She is a stalwart Azudim vampire, tall and monstrous, a seamless fusion of human and demonic design. She must be seven feet tall, if not more, her height only partially diminished by the tight curve of her spine. Arms and legs alike are sheathed in a mismatching of chitinous plates, shattered bone, shells, and oily black fur. The ruinous scape emulates natural musculature, but exaggerates and weaponizes it, turning shoulders into curving spikes, hands into jagged dragon'sclaws, joints into marrow blades. From pelvis and shoulder to head, she resembles a human, one with sickly maroon skin. Her soft-featured face is torn, its beauty marred by jagged holes in her cheeks and lips, as if gnashed off by a wild dog. Her red, amber-flecked eyes and typically dour expression leave her looking haunted. Long, elfin ears, curling ram's horns, and a thick reptilian tail rob her of her humanity, the latter as long as she is tall, heavy enough for a bludgeon. Though the woman's midsection is lithe and strong, the ribs
protude, making her look slightly sunken. Exposed bands of bone race over her hips and across her collarbones, as if her body was gradually succumbing to a beast. Her hair is pulled back into a tight, spiky ponytail, long enough that its end dips into the small of her back.
She is wearing:
warped and twisted filigree horn ornamentations, twisted around her horns
a circular mark, half darkened, burnt into her forehead
a silver ring, pierced through what remains of her lip
a small spider-shaped silver trinket, tucked into her garments
a horned, bestial mask of scorched wood, hanging from her hip by a rope
a tattered black Tekura belt, long enough to drape the floor
voluminous monk's robes of black and orange, worn open and loose
a wristguard of thickly coiled rope, cinched around her wrist
a long, black hairtie, binding her hair back in a queue
a restrictive top of bandages, flattening her chest
a Mhun leather sash, festooned with skulls, worn ceremonially over one shoulder

Ashmer:
He is a powerful Azudim vampire and is a disturbing sight to behold. Wherever his translucent skin is visible, dark shapes slither across it as his coloring shifts from pale white to a drab, sickly grey. The workings of muscle and vein are faintly visible beneath, sinew working against jutting bone at his emaciated joints. Long limbs lend a sinuous grace to his otherwise gangly frame, despite the violent sclerotic curve of his back. His right eye is a heated, molten gold in hue, exotic in its almond shape, but his left is a scene of ruin. Cords of desiccated muscle stand out in stark contrast to his ripped-away skin, leaving the orb of his eye bare and lidless. It is a murky, ephemeral white in color, and its hues shift periodically, as if filled with a cloudy fluid. The exposed black bone of his eye socket frames it, standing in stark contrast to his milky flesh. Directly between his eyes, a bony crest begins. It rises in a towering fan of narrow spines of the same black bone as the rest of his skeleton, and is webbed with a thin membrane. It shifts in hue with the rest of him in inky blots that swim across the translucent flesh in fluid, darting motions. Glistening ebon teeth are concealed behind his pale lips, a thick mixture of blood and ichor oozing between their razor edges.
(pressed onto his thumb) : a thin black band
(draped from his hunched shoulders) : a heavy, fur-lined black longcoat
(tight around his forefinger) : an arcane black ring
(buckled to his narrow hips) : an ebony and crimson weaponbelt
(coiled around one thin wrist) : a length of corrupted prayer beads
(tight to his sinewy torso) : a cotton bandage shirt
(streaked with dried blood) : frayed leggings of bandages


The stage is set:
A crack in the mountainside.
The air flows shift from turbulent drafts to a steady flow along this length of the cave. A small crack in the back of the cave can be seen through the darkness, leading into a much larger space beyond. The opening is badly crumbled around the edges and has been braced with steel beams from the inside. Traces of black iron can be found littering the ground. A granite monument stands here, its surface polished to a shine. A sculpture of a little pony stands here. A pike with a shriveled head has been stuck here as warning to any intruder who would dare enter Bloodloch. Like sharp teeth, a few stalagmites reach up from the ground here. Inviting closer inspection, a monument of bone displays an informative plaque. A royal blue flag of House Nebre'seir flows defiantly here when the air stirs.

The curtain rises:
---


Lin returns, sans horse, practically stomping into the room. "You," she says, directed at you.

Draiman looks at Lin, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

Grunting, Na'ait Lin "Ambor" of Ve'kahi says, "What's this...?"

Lin opens a letter made of dark red paper.

Draiman Ilyra says, "Looks like a letter."

Draiman Ilyra says, "Might be more information written on it."

Lin takes a cluster of chakra blossoms from a letter made of dark red paper.

"Much information indeed," Lin says, handling a cluster of chakra blossoms in her hand.

Flecking the darkened sky with streaks of orange and magenta, rays of early
morning light streak upwards from a newly awakened sun.

You have emoted: A needle in hand and confused expression in place, Blanche slowly takes on a more placid appearance as she looks to Lin. Placing both hands against her exposed knees, she bends at the waist and issues out a monotone greeting. "Hello, mistress."

Lin tucks her thumbs into her belt, swiping her tongue over her teeth. "Morning, little friend. Perhaps you can help me with something."

"Within reason, mistress. I follow the commands of the Nihilus and those he allows." Blanche straightens up and draws her gaze up the front of Lin, her dark eyes stopping just short of her chin. Darting to the side, the only break she makes from that path is to stare at the chakra blossoms with a quiet fondness before she snaps back to attention. "How may I help you, mistress. I am a servant."

"I know you are. It's writ in the very way you carry yourself. It just so happens the Nihilus and I are acquainted. He... sends me gifts," Lin claims, glancing at her letter once more, before poking it away, and waving the flowers emphatically. "I would like the use of your eyes - I intend to hang a painting in the Alcazar."

You have emoted: Blanche's hands busy themselves in the overwhelming amount of fabric that makes up the chakra-embroidered hood of her robes, the velvet soon pulled up to cover her head with her braid hidden within its folds. "Yes, mistress." Within the shadows of the cave and offset by her own clothing, the mottled scarring and freckles of her cheeks jump out against the pasty coloring of her skin.

You begin to follow Lin.

Lin makes a growly, pleased-sounding 'hmm' as she appraises you with a glance. "Away with us, then."

Lin moves to the upper levels of the Alcazar, but Blanche is turned away for lack of Dominion membership card.

Na'ait Lin "Ambor" of Ve'kahi says to you, "Ah. They've wised to my methods. Not a problem, I know another suitable place."

You begin to follow Lin.

You follow Lin to the down.
At the foot of the eastern grand staircase.

You follow Lin to the northwest.
Weaving through igneous pillars.

You follow Lin to the northwest.
Above the Weaver's descent.

You follow Lin to the down.

You follow Lin to the north.
Rows of red velvet pews.

You follow Lin to the northeast.
Chapel of Her Malevolent Bloodshed.
At first glance, it appears this may have been a torture chamber, built into the church by some freak accident of planning, but the reek of burnt offerings and gigantic iron statue of Iosyne suggest otherwise. The latter piece, pocked and artfully allowed to rust, sprawls across the entire back wall of the chapel, as the Goddess in Her terrifying spider form seizes the entirety of the room in a sprawling nightmare of barbed legs. She is backlit by sconces - the room's only lighting - and consequently throws Her shadow over the chamber, the better to conceal the weapons of war arrayed on the walls. A heavy throne overlooks rows of understated chairs, all austere, decorated as mere afterthought. A sigil in the shape of a small, rectangular monolith is on the ground. Dripping black ichor, a heaping skeleton of bone creates a construct from the earth here. An arachnid Chiav strider is here, its body armored with overlapping plates. Scanning the surroundings with a cool expression, a domineering Carnifex knight stands on watch here.

Lin beats her breast with a fist, affecting a martial salute to an armored, arachnid Chiav strider. She steps aside to let you in, then promptly blocks the door, feet apart, her arms loose by her sides. Elevating her chin, she stares down her nose at you, an unsettling hungry look to her eyes.

Blanche does not match that gaze in any way or sense, the darkness of her eyes shaped into an obedient, near apathetic acceptance of whatever location she might end up in. As Lin stops and walls off her exit, the mortal simply clasps her hands before her and turns to gaze around the room passively without ever once looking at Lin.

An armored, arachnid Chiav strider rubs its pedipalps together, its four black eyes blinking at its surroundings.

"Lower your robe," Lin commands. "I thirst." She marches after you in just a few long strides, her shadow jittering in the flickering sconces. If any clarification was needed, her mouth hangs ajar, maw full of pointed teeth, the four canines especially pronounced.

You tell Nihilus Ashmer Ras'valyra, "Nihilus, if a Consanguine wished to feed and was not you, how would you like me to respond?"

Ashmer tells you, "What is their name?"

You tell Nihilus Ashmer Ras'valyra, "I do not know. She knows you and is covered in bones like an armored beetle."

Ashmer tells you, "Ah, yes. We can smell you each from here."

Ashmer tells you, "Her intent is to drink of you, then?"

You have emoted: Blanche pauses completely at the request and remains still for a countless number of moments, her attention torn elsewhere as if she was locked in a silent conversation.

You tell Nihilus Ashmer Ras'valyra, "Yes, Nihilus."

Ashmer tells you, "You will decline."

You tell Nihilus Ashmer Ras'valyra, "Yes, Nihilus."

Ashmer tells you, "Do inform me of her exact response."

Lin's face contorts, molding around the wide snarl that splits her mouth. "What did I just say, -servant-, lower your robe--!" She snatches at you, making to grab you by the neck.

You have emoted: "No, mistress. I must decline." Blanche makes a move to take a step back, those clasped hands unfurling to hold fast to her robes and sweep them behind her and, hopefully, out of your grasp.

Ashmer tells you, "Well?"

You tell Nihilus Ashmer Ras'valyra, "I will inform you, Nihilus, as soon as she responds."

"Not a... choice... fucking HUNGRY," Lin mutters, her voice coming out in
rumbles, speaking as if to herself, as if you were an inanimate object stymieing her. Her claws snag on a fistful of the robe, arm pumping backward to pull it back toward her, exhibiting all the strength of an ox.

You tell Nihilus Ashmer Ras'valyra, "She.. she has grabbed me, Nihilus. She will feed regardless."

Lin starts to wield an eye sigil in her left hand.

Lin throws a sigil at the ground which bursts in a flash of light.
Draiman is pulled back into phase with reality!

Lin says nothing at all in a very pointed way. Her silence is deafening.

The shadows solidify and Ashmer appears before you.

The ghost of a smirk passes fleetingly over Ashmer's lips as he glances at
Draiman.

As he steps lightly into the chapel, Nihilus Ashmer Ras'valyra says to Draiman Ilyra, "We will deal with this ourself, childe."

Draiman nods his head emphatically.

With a gesture of the slender blade in his hand, Nihilus Ashmer Ras'valyra says to Draiman Ilyra, "Do remain in the central hall, if you would. If the Ambor leaves without us..."

Favoring Draiman Ilyra with a black, indulgent smile, Nihilus Ashmer Ras'valyra says, "Well."

The ramifications of the situation dawn on Lin at once. With your clothing still in her fist, she whirls on Ashmer, wide-eyed but silent.

A glimmer of something unspoken shows in Blanche's eyes as Lin grabs at her robe and all but yanks her towards her. The momentum causes the mortal to stagger and nearly fall onto her knees within the gathered crowd.

Quietly, you say to Ashmer, "Nihilus."

Ashmer settles into a relaxed posture, a delicate, spiral-etched athame held lightly in one thin-fingered hand. He remains utterly silent as he considers Lin.

In a soft, rattling hiss, Nihilus Ashmer Ras'valyra says to you, "My mouse."

"Ni- Nihilus," Lin whispers.

With a slow tilt of his crested head, Nihilus Ashmer Ras'valyra says to Na'ait Lin "Ambor" of Ve'kahi, "Ambor."


Lin retains her hold on your robe, but only by virtue of her claws - her grip has gone slack. With thick tension in her neck and shoulders, she begins considering the door just over Ashmer's shoulder. "I told you... was... hungry. Very hungry."

Ashmer's crested head cants to one side, and his too-thin lips twist into the vague approximation of a smirk. He continues in his quiet study of Lin as a dark shape skitters across his face, beneath the surface of his milky skin.

You have emoted: Blanche stands back up and fixes her appearance to be much as it had before the scuffle had occurred, her hands brushing down the front of her robes and correcting the hang of it upon her thin frame. Standing small compared to Lin and Ashmer, she really does resemble something of a mouse in size, at the least. Taking a step back away from Lin, that fabric still being held slowly crawling out of her grasp.

Though his mismatched gaze remains settled on Lin, Nihilus Ashmer Ras'valyra says to you, "Your knees. Or has the Ambor shaken your training from you?"

As the cloth goes taut, it snaps, bit by bit, out of Lin's unkempt claws, her hand dropping to her side suddenly. Her nostrils flare wide, a surge of fearful anger in her eyes. "You intend to take it out of my hide, no doubt? Is that why your... thug blocks the way?"

A ravenous expression slashes across Ashmer's face, and a chorus of hissing
voices issues from his mouth in an otherworldly wail.

You see Ashmer yell, "Have some RESPECT, Ambor!"

Blanche finally has the decency to look stricken to the core as Ashmer reminds her. Without any further prompting, she falls to her knees much as if she was a puppet with its strings unexpectedly cut.

Lin's ears flatten back against her temples. She dances back, as if physically buffeted by Ashmer's voice. Her mouth hangs open but she gags on her words.

An arrow comes flying in towards Lin from the southwest.
The arrow strikes Lin, gouging a deep and bloody wound.

Ashmer's long-featured face remains contorted as the arrow whistles past the hole where his ear once might have been. "It seems you have insulted our blood," he utters in a quieter measure of the same layered hiss.

The arrow lodges in Lin's thigh, sticking right into the meat well above the beginning of her armoring. She makes no sound, bearing the wound stoically, but grits her teeth, clenching her fists so hard that bone dust scrapes off her palms. "T- tendered... my app- apology..."

Ashmer considers Lin for a moment, his expression edged. Without a word, he
beckons Lin with a slow curl of three black-nailed fingers.

Ashmer begins to exude a foul miasma which encompasses your body, protecting you from harm.

Lin approaches Ashmer with obvious reluctance. She limps, the arrow still
jutting from her leg, grunting in clear exertion every time she uses it. Her tail stuck in a tight coil, she stops perhaps two long strides away from him, finding it harder and harder to make eye contact.

Again, Ashmer makes the same beckoning motion with those too-long fingers.

You have emoted: Blanche has not budged this entire time, her cheek pressing flat against the flooring of chamber regardless of what gore or other collections might grace or stain the nightmarish room. Her breaths come out shallowly and eyes are sealed shut as her robes swallow her form and lend her some sense of comforting shelter.

Lin stares at Ashmer at length, her head lowering beneath the level of her shoulders. "Nihilus," she pleads, coming close enough that he could easily reach for her. One hand spreads around the arrow, the shaft protruding from between her fingers; the other hangs by her side, trembling considerably.

In a smooth, unceremonious motion, Ashmer reaches down, curls his bony hand
around the arrow's shaft, and drags it from the wound in a swift tug.

"Aahhg...!" Lin cries out, the painful sound devolving into swearing and bestial hissing. A flash of red anger is directed at Ashmer, an instinct too strong to suppress, but quickly it neutralizes. Her leg twitches continuously, the wound sluggishly weeping blood.

Ashmer's crested head tilts to one side, and he briefly considers the arrow. After a moment, the creature lifts it, and a sinuous grey tongue slithers from his slitted mouth to touch at the bloodied tip. He seems to savor the taste a moment, before the pale appendage kisses the air once more and he cleans the dark metal of Lin's blood.

"I'm... sssorry," Lin whispers, too angry to sound sincere, but undeniably passionate. She cups over the split hole in her thigh, watching every moment as Ashmer tastes at her bloodied arrow. Though unnerved by the display, her tongue lolls over her teeth, her hunger piqued.

In a musing hiss, Nihilus Ashmer Ras'valyra says to Na'ait Lin "Ambor" of
Ve'kahi, "Do you thirst, Ambor?"

There is no hesitation at all. Lin nods spastically, her fingers curling.
"Vvvery badly, Nihilus."

Ashmer's bony hand trails out. His grip has a strength beyond what that skeletal frame should possess, and the creature simply grasps one of Lin's horns firmly and drags her closer.

Something skitters between your feet unseen.

In the split second before Lin nearly collides with Ashmer, her eyes snap to you for a moment, then back again, too quickly to be meaningful. Instinctively she grabs hold of his coat, steadying herself as her balance is upset. If only one thing has sunken in, it's the grabbing of her horn: she fixates on the dilapidated man with a wide-eyed, subdued look that could almost rival your subservience.

A loud and angry moaning fills the halls.

Ashmer's face pauses a scant inch from Lin's own, and a neutral expression drowns the hungry edge to his long features. "Perhaps our lesson was not lost on you," he muses in a soft hiss, as if to himself. The last word trails into a rasping cough that expels a spat of black muck onto Lin's face, and he falls back into a silent study of the vampiress.

Hollow whispers echo from within the abysmal walls, their words trickling like sand against the stones.

Lin clenches her eyes shut, but only opens one when some of that foul spittle impacts her eyelids. "F- fuck," she whispers, before she can even remember her manners. Though she does not dare let any of her revulsion show on her face, her stomach quite visibly clenches, a brief tremble in her lip. "What lesson, Nihilus?"

His rasp barely above a whisper, Nihilus Ashmer Ras'valyra says to Na'ait Lin "Ambor" of Ve'kahi, "Tell us, Ambor, did you intend to drink of my slave without our permission?"

"Yes, I... I did," Lin answers. She matches Ashmer for volume, making the conversation difficult for you to hear. "It warned me, but I did not heed it... I was- am- thirsty, cannot think straight."

Blanche stirs the slightest from her position by both of your feet.

"She," comes Ashmer's razor-sharp hiss.

Lin gulps, trying in vain to wrest her head out of Ashmer's grip. This does not go on for very long. "She," she agrees hastily.

Crested head tilting curiously, Nihilus Ashmer Ras'valyra says to Na'ait Lin "Ambor" of Ve'kahi, "And what do you propose we do, hm?"

As he speaks, a swarm of tiny black shapes skitters across Ashmer's face, just beneath the surface of his translucent flesh.

Her dirtied eye twitching in its closed socket, Lin frowns heavily at Ashmer, trying to maintain eye contact, though continually her sight sweeps toward you or the opposing wall. "Assumed you are prolonging the moment where you tear me in half..."

Without pause, Nihilus Ashmer Ras'valyra says to Na'ait Lin "Ambor" of Ve'kahi, "A similar thought crossed our minds."

This gives Lin considerable pause. Her mouth opens and shuts uselessly, while no words come. So close to Ashmer, her scent is soured with sweat. "I do not... do not fear death, but I- I want no bad blood between... us..."

The smell of Ashmer's own proximity is a sweet intermingling of honey and
vanilla, made sharper by old blood. "Then perhaps you should have heeded our words more carefully," he replies in a slithering hiss.

With that, Ashmer simply releases Lin with a light shove.

An armored, arachnid Chiav strider rubs its pedipalps together, its four black eyes blinking at its surroundings.

The smell is not lost on Lin . The ruby flecks in her eyes seem to grow more pronounced, accentuated as the veins stand out, pupils contracted to the size of pinheads. Even as she stumbles back, protectively throwing her arms across her chest and shoulders, she gazes at Ashmer, almost salivating. "If there is anything I can do, Nihilus," she murmurs.

With a beckoning curl of two long fingers, Nihilus Ashmer Ras'valyra says to Na'ait Lin "Ambor" of Ve'kahi, "Come closer, Ambor."

And Lin does, even with what a generous person might call obedience. At a mild slouch, her height is somewhat diminished. A delta of rusty blood has run into the mess of fur and bone along her leg, the flow stifled in its intricacies.

In a flat hiss, Nihilus Ashmer Ras'valyra says to Na'ait Lin "Ambor" of Ve'kahi,"We will collect your service, Ambor. We do not think that your Sire will deny us this."

"I don't understand," Lin admits. She glances at you, not without a modicum of sympathy, as if registering you as a person for the first time.

With a gesture, Nihilus Ashmer Ras'valyra says to Na'ait Lin "Ambor" of Ve'kahi,"You will serve us for a time, until we deem the lesson learned."

You have emoted: Blanche is content from her position by the feet of Ashmer, having slowly moved closer to him and settling her forehead against the cold, clammy skin of his foot. Anything else she might have show is hidden away within the folds of her clothing.

The ghost of a smirk passes fleetingly over Ashmer's lips as he glances at Lin.

"He... would not object then, no," Lin admits. "Thank you, Nihilus. You show me mercy."

The back of Ashmer's fist rakes across Lin's face, and his long-featured face briefly shows its previous fury. After a moment, it returns to its serene neutrality.

In an edged hiss, Nihilus Ashmer Ras'valyra says to Na'ait Lin "Ambor" of
Ve'kahi, "Get out of our sight."

Lin's head jerks aside, some internal action of her bones eliciting a crunchy snap. Shocked at the speed of the blow, she gapes at Ashmer stupidly, a dribble of blood leaking from her mouth. "Y- yeh- yehh--" She gives up even trying to answer, scurrying out of the chamber as fast as possible, her footfalls cracking on the floor.

You follow Lin to the southwest.
Rows of red velvet pews.

You follow Lin to the northeast.
Chapel of Her Malevolent Bloodshed.

Na'ait Lin "Ambor" of Ve'kahi has lost you.

Lin leaves to the southwest.

You have emoted: Blanche did not move at all. It's a lie.

Ashmer didn't see a darn thing.

His voice a rasping hiss, Nihilus Ashmer Ras'valyra says to you, "Sleep."

You have emoted: "Yes, Nihilus." Blanche does not mind where she is, settled by Ashmer and his feet before catching up on a few moments of rest.

You close your eyes, curl up in a ball, and fall asleep.

Ashmer begins to exude a foul miasma which encompasses your body, protecting you from harm.

You open your eyes and stretch languidly, feeling deliciously well-rested.

Raising her face up a mere inch, you say to Ashmer, "Mmm."

The ghost of a smirk passes fleetingly over Ashmer's lips as he glances at you.

Ashmer settles into a low crouch and lightly strokes your scraped cheek with the back of one bony knuckle. "You have done well," he utters in a slithering hiss.

Crested head canted to one side, Nihilus Ashmer Ras'valyra says to you, "We do not intend to share your blood."

Blanche might have well been something of a pet for all the delight she expresses at that small touch, looking genuinely shocked and a bit touched at the gesture as well as the words. "Yes, Nihilus. However you will it,
I will uphold."

As he slips back to his clawed feet, Nihilus Ashmer Ras'valyra says, "Good."

Blanche backpedals with her palms until she is seated on the
curve of her heels, staring up at Ashmer with her gaze clearly focused on the ceiling. "I am sorry, Nihilus."

With a twist of his thin lips, Nihilus Ashmer Ras'valyra says to you, "Why, my mouse?"

Looking uncomfortable behind her passive facade, you say to Ashmer, "I wish.. you did not have to worry about me. It was more than just me, though, and I understand that. Still, I wish you did not have to."

The ghost of a smirk passes fleetingly over Ashmer's lips as he glances at you.

---
an uncomfortable silence

Lim

Good stuff.