Clash of the Titans

[Mircea]

--The following transcript was a live chat roleplay-- Transcript posted in full with permission

Mircea: Mircea frowned, pacing back and forth and trying to ignore Emilian's alternating demands for release and his panicked pleas while he tried to think of what to do. Finally, he rummaged in his pocket and withdrew his phone, pleasantly surprised to find that, even here, he had a signal, albeit a weak one and probably not enough to hold a phone call, but, happily, that wasn't what he was looking for. Instead, he tapped out a quick message and hit send. My love? I need to talk to you, but do not trust the phone.

Habren: Habren's phone buzzed, almost too loudly where she had decided to rest against a wall to regain some energy before she jumped back in the fray. A smile crossed her lips as she read the message; followed by a slight frown - she hated the raids and enjoyed them all at once, for various reasons - as this message was reinforcing, the many nights spent apart while they fought their ways through various beasts and unheard-of creatures. He didn't trust the phone, but clearly he was far off already if they couldn't speak in person... what do you suggest, then, my love? She typed back, thinking an innocuous message was safe enough.

Mircea: It came as something of a relief to discover that his signal was strong enough to receive her reply, but still he didn't trust it to manage a call clearly. Telepathy? Can you hear me that way? He sent back, not quite certain of the true extent of such powers

Habren: She gave a smile; clearly she hadn't understood - blast those phones and all text-based communications! With a sigh, and preparing to overextend herself with the yet-unused ability, she concentrated on his mind. She'd never tried this aspect of her abilities before, not in these moden nights. But, whisper-soft, she transmitted the simple confirmation to his mind. I can try, my love…

Mircea: He grinned and bounced up slightly onto the balls of his feet when she spoke to him. He'd been too long without the sound of her voice and it came as the sweetest of reliefs. Thank the gods. I miss you, my love. And Emilian is... Ah, stuck…

Habren: She smiled at his words, happy she could hear his voice, as well. Ah, it works! I miss you, too... so much. She paused, confused. What do you mean by stuck, my darling? She frowned. The little beast was a hindrance but he had his uses...

Mircea: Stuck, he began, letting his irritation with the wraith show even in his thoughts. Just as he had been proving useful and relatively co-operative, too. He was scouting ahead for me - there are more of the spike traps down here - when he stumbled into a wraith trap. Like the one we have at home, I think…

Habren: Ahh, I see… she spoke softly to his mind, feeling the irritation threading his thoughts. How long ago, love? She asked, wondering if it was worth keeping the wraithchilde around any longer in the first place. Habren had long been itching for a reason to banish him back to the darkness...

Mircea: He paused to think, unable to judge the passage of time by the moon as he usually did. Last night, I should think. He became trapped shortly before I rested to heal for the night and the trap seems no weaker since I woke, he explained, having unknowingly had the same thoughts about simply banishing Emilian, but, for once, their current predicament was not of the wraith's doing. He has been helpful in here until now…

Habren: She sat thinking for a moment, letting him in on her thought process, or trying to anyway. What are your thoughts, love? These traps are not permanent. ..mayhaps wait it out, or, even though it is not his fault this time. ..banish him anyway. Mayhaps he can be summoned back to you?

Mircea: He will not like that, he grunted, albeit with a slight smirk. It might well serve him right for all the trouble he'd been since his arrival in their lives. That may be reason enough to do it... A taste of what our kindness keeps him from. A reminder? Do you think he could be recalled so, my love?

Habren: She had to smile at this; she couldn't care less if Emilian enjoyed any aspect of any of it; it served him right for being the wicked little snipe he usually was. Irritating beyond belief at the best of times, he’d crossed one too many lines for her tastes even if he had quieted down a bit of late. I believe it can be done, my love. I have heard others having to do so. And if not, well. ..

Mircea: He laughed quietly at her thoughts, following almost directly in line with his own and glanced towards the wraith who seemed to have taken to short, jerky periods of pacing in his cage. Then Max shall be all the happier for the name of his kind being restored to good, he thought with a smile. He and Habren were not alone in their distaste for Emilian. We will try and see…

Habren: She smiled quietly, playing with her phone so as not to draw undue attention to herself or the fact she was on the verge of laughter at the voice ringing quietly in her mind, lest someone think to question her sanity. Tell me how it turns out, my love... gods what I would not give to be at your side right now…

Mircea: Well, love, I am only two floors down if you care to join me… He murmured to her with a smile. His fingers had itched to touch her since the moment they had first parted for their hunt and they hadn't stopped since. As it was, he turned his attention to Emilian and explained the plan he and Habren had come up with, fully prepared for the onslaught of refusals, denials and accusations that followed (including more than a few about the nature of his parentage). "Enough!" He hissed and the command was all it took for the wraith to be forced to silence, however petulant he may have looked about it. From there, it was a relatively simple, if uncomfortable, process to banish him back from whence he came...

Habren: You do far better in these sorts of things than I could ever hope to, my darling...I could not get past the hideous things of the next floor, she said ruefully, flicking at a bit of detritus clinging to her jeans with a sour face. She listened quietly for a long moment, awaiting his confirmation that the deed had been done.

Mircea: He's gone… He breathed once he'd lost all sense of Emilian's presence, either in the vicinity or through the strange link that connected the two as master and servant. It was only then that he could begin drawing on power in the same way as he had when first pulling Emilian from the depths of the shadows. He hesitated for a moment or two, tempted to leave the wraith to his fate in the shadows, but, finally, he let his focus drift towards the form of the man he had once thought he knew well, releasing the spell only when he was certain it was powerful enough to summon even such an old soul as Emilian's. They are ugly, are they not? He said to his wife while he waited to see what would come to him from beyond

Habren: Mmm. Now to see if this works, she murmured softly to his mind, waiting with a mix of curiosity and dread; just what sort of obligation Mircea had to the wraith she did not know, but she had always left anything to do with Emilian to him, knowing well that it was not for her to act or even say, without his request for her input. He was Mircea’s and that was the extent of it, even if the little beast was the bane of Habren’s existence some nights. So, love... what happened? And yes, they are rather...gruesome.

Mircea: I cannot decide if they are worse of the monsters down here. I think they were bears once… He mused, taking a moment to destroy one such creature that had begun to take note of the strange scent in its territory and looking down in distaste at the ash that coated his clothes more and more thickly with each kill. As he fought, he could feel the pull of his magic taking hold and bringing forth a spirit from the shadows, but it wasn't until the creature was defeated that he could spare himself to look and find Emilian, looking equally disgruntled and petrified, hovering neatly a few inches from the ground. Ah... He returns. Perhaps it will have taught him some humility? He asked, not at all sounding too hopeful of the miracle actually occurring

Habren: I take it there was much whining and pleading on his part. Silly git. He still lacks trust even now. Hopefully he has learned some today, she said with a wry smile and a soft sigh. She truly did hate being away from her husband though this means of communication helped ease some of the fierce longing, she was finding... but it still pained her some to stay put while he went through even that small bout of uncertainty.

Mircea: He laughed warmly, in thought and voice alike and nodded, even knowing she couldn't see it. He thought it some ploy to be rid of him. I told him I needed not a ploy, only to deem it so... He does seem willing to continue his scouting for me, at least, so perhaps some good will come of this… They could at the very least hope and, after the number of traps Emilian had helped him avoid in this place, he could give at least a little credit where it was due.

Habren: She smiled, sinking down against the wall with a sigh. Good. Mayhaps it scared some sense into him for once, she said softly, pulling out and working a cloth over her blade, wondering just how many traps Mircea had not managed to avoid while the wraith had been trapped.

Mircea: We can only hope he is suitably terrified, love… He agreed with a grin, checking over his weapons out of sheer habit, despite knowing that everything he carried was in near pristine condition and perfectly adjusted to his preferences. I love you, my darling… He breathed, leaning against the wall to enjoy simply chatting with his wife for a time before the fight with the dead resumed.

Habren: She laughed softly, giving a shake of her head at the wraith's ridiculous behavior. Mircea could have banished him ages ago but had not. Why now? And I love you, Mircea. I pray for a short raid...and your victory.

[Mircea]

Mircea had finally freed Emilian from his captivity and gotten the wretched little man to shut up his complaints about being forced back into the shadows by pointing out that he was lucky he hadn’t just left him there to wither and rot and that, should he not silence himself on the topic, he may well find that Mircea did exactly that in the not too distant future. And so the routine had begun again, with Emilian scouting ahead unseen and without scent, picking out a safe path through the stone passages to find the next shambling, rotting foe. The bears themselves posed little problem and, in truth, Mircea considered the stench of rotting flesh and soured meat to be by far the worst experience as he moved through in search of some means of continuing on and seeing what had caused such a place and such abominations to exist. Occasionally, one would latch its maw around his leg and worry at the flesh, but only long enough for Mircea to drive his blade through the beast’s head or body and force it away from him once more and even those wounds healed within minutes and allowed him to continue on unhindered.

The tiredness beginning to creep into him was caused not by injury or blood loss, but by simple exertion; he had been battling the creatures since he woke, more than a dozen so far by his count and, though the injuries he suffered were minor, the sheer amount of damage he needed to deal in return to bring it down was extraordinary and, all by itself, exhausting.

He was just considering settling down to rest for a short time when he saw it: The small, almost innocuous trinket, easily missed and now coated in a dusting of ash, that would allow him to progress deeper into the area to see what lay beyond. Snatching it up and threading it onto the necklace he wore, he sent Emilian ahead as usual to find him a safe route… Only to find that there was no such thing. He could reach the passageway safely enough, if he followed in the wraith’s footsteps, but once there he would be faced with difficulties however he stepped. Emilian showed him where the pressure plate was that would have released some kind of unfortunate fate upon him and he stepped carefully over and around it, into the larger cavern that awaited him beyond. Even warned of its presence, though, the gargantuan occupant stopped him in his tracks as he looked up… and up… and still further up to where the beast’s head perched above monstrously broad shoulders. Even Emilian was quiet in the face of such a beast, such a… Titan, Mircea decided to term it, in lieu of a better name. A mooncalf titan that had silenced the most vocal of wraiths and stayed the old soldier’s blade in serious consideration of whether or not he could succeed in battle against such a foe.

Ultimately, however, there was simply no choice in the matter. This titan stood between Mircea and what he sought, it kept him from his wife’s side and his bed back at home while they dealt with the danger this place posed and the exhilaration such hunts could offer them. “Well…” He said to himself, “You are big.”

For its part, the titan seemed to be paying him little attention, though, Mircea thought to himself, it was perfectly possible that he simply couldn’t be seen from the beast’s vantage. Like spotting an ant from the roof of a building in the middle of the night. Excellent, he decided. It would give him some element of surprise when he launched his attack. Taking advantage of the situation, Mircea took a few minutes to ready his weapons, checking and rechecking the placement of his knives on his belt, ensuring his quiver of arrows was comfortably settled and within easy, instinctive reach. And then there was his sword, his beloved Ileana, found after being lost to him for so long and blessed by his very own wife for strength, accuracy and the ability to keep her husband safe from harm.

With the preparations made, Mircea said a short, quiet prayer to his gods for their blessing and protection in what was to come and, finally, finally it was time. With one last brush of his fingers against the hilt of his blade, he drew an arrow from his quiver and drew his bow, taking aim at the titan’s head to try and make the most of this free shot, hoping to pierce the eye he could barely see in the cavern’s almost complete darkness and blind the beast to one side, giving him a weakness he may find himself in great need of once the battle began in earnest.The bow string thrummed as he released it and the titan twitched as if hearing it, letting the arrow miss its head and clatter harmlessly off the stone behind. Buying time in case the twitch became the beginning of an attack, Mircea drew the shadows to himself, shaping them as he did before thrusting them forwards at the creature, but again, there was a twitch at the last moment and it was left unharmed. It had given him the time he needed, though, to draw a second arrow and release a shot, anticipating the movement and adjusting his aim accordingly, watching the arrow fly straight and true… Straight through the side of the titan as if it had been air, but finally the thing seemed to take notice and, letting out a rumbling grunt that shook the ground beneath Mircea’s feet, it began forwards towards him.

Mircea let out a battle cry of his own, the sound echoing off the stone walls around them and released the power he had been building within himself. It came with a deeper roar as his body shifted, growing taller and broader, more muscular and yet, despite the added bulk, he felt swifter, lighter on his feet. At the same time, a second spell took hold, lending him still more speed for, though the beast seemed almost ponderous in its movements, its sheer size meant it covered a lot of space with even the slightest shift of weight or position. A third and then a forth arrow followed swiftly into the air, the first aimed to send the titan in one direction to allow the second to pierce its centre mass, just about where Mircea judged the beast’s heart to be.

Still the beast came, though, ever closing the distance and Mircea forced it back with another spike of shadows, these aimed at its legs in the hope to unbalance it, either with actual damage or with the titan’s need to avoid the blow. It did indeed shift its weight onto one leg, moving sideways instead of forwards and Mircea brought that area into complete darkness, wrapping the shadows tightly around the titan’s head to blind it and send it stumbling into the cavern wall with an almighty thud, but the damned thing rebounded and Mircea barely had time to whip his sword from its scabbard before it was upon him and he was forced to defend himself, letting himself fall down and onto his back as the great head descended towards him, his sword whipping out in front of him and parting dead flesh that seemed to give and give before it finally opened and spilled blood over him.

It jerked back from the blade, seeming somehow to convey surprise at the damage and Mircea followed up, thrusting forwards as he found his feet again, but though the sword pierced flesh, it did not seem to reach deeply enough into the monster’s abdomen to do any notable damage. It gave him a moment or two to release yet another spell, his pupils dilating in an effort to grab every bit of available light, letting him see more details of the beast and its movements and from a greater distance, buying precious time for coming attacks to be avoided or countered. Before it could begin to close in again, Mircea dashed forwards, finding himself inside the monstrous reach and worried at it, doing no more damage than flesh wounds, but it forced the beast onto the back foot, shifting its enormous weight back for a few steps and allowing Mircea to create some distance, snatching up his bow once more. He didn’t stop, though, moving in a circle around the beast and letting off shot after shot. Most missed or deflected off the creature’s thick hide, but one or two buried themselves deeply either side of the first he had hit it with, bringing forth more blood to spatter on the ground, making a number of the stones slick.

With another roar, the titan put on a surprising burst of speed, charging at Mircea and sending him scrambling back in search of much needed distance, only to lose his footing on a particularly slick pool of blood and crash down to the ground, followed by the beast that seemed to hone in on the weakness like few other predators the vampire had previously encountered. The two grappled there on the rough, wet stones and the gulf in weight and strength became terrifyingly apparent. It was taking Mircea all he had to hold the titan at bay and could find no opening to do any damage of his own or to escape his current predicament.

By some stroke of luck, he managed to wriggle beneath one of the giant limbs the titan was using to balance, covering himself from damage for long enough to draw his knife, switch his hold on it and drive it into the beast’s neck from where lay on his right side, bringing his left arm up and back behind him to make the hit. He had to release it, leaving it in place as he rolled back beneath the limb, but, as he reached up to retrieve the weapon, so too did the titan reach for him, its hand folding around the vampire’s neck and squeezing slowly, as methodical as a boa constrictor that knew its prey was done for. If he thought the creature capable of such feelings, Mircea would have thought the animal to be enjoying the crunching, grinding feeling of delicate bones being forced against one another. Mircea was no ordinary prey, though and, even as his body buckled and broke, he managed to grasp the knife’s hilt and drag it out of the titan’s neck, opening the wound wider still and eliciting a sound of pain and forcing the beast to release its hold in surprise.

As soon as he was able, Mircea scrambled to his feet and sprinted for his sword that had skidded off to the side when he fell, rolling as he dipped his weight to snatch it up from the stones to help keep his balance. He could sense the titan behind him, closing the distance even as Mircea turned to face it once more. He lunged forwards, hoping to get inside the beast’s reach again, but even as he buried his sword in the thing’s head, so too did it once again find a grip about the vampire’s neck and, this time, it didn’t let go. Perhaps the latest injury had rendered it incapable of feeling pain any longer, perhaps it was simply in the throes of death or, terrifyingly, perhaps it had learned from its previous mistake. Whatever the reason, it simply tightened its grip and stood, lifting Mircea clear from the ground and holding him, dangling and barely able to grip his sword, much less make any use of it. The hand around him twitched, almost pulsing, and there was a sickening crack of bones breaking before Mircea was airborne, flying back along the passage from whence he had come and rising… Rising… Rising. He crashed through one floor after another, seeming not to slow down at all until, finally, battered and broken, he rebounded off a wall and came to a most painful stop, his fingers finally loosening his hold on his sword and letting it roll free of his grasp.

Opening his eyes with a groan, Mircea looked up, trying to regain his bearings and there, above him, was a face, peering down curiously at the man who had made so graceless an entrance into their personal space.

“Hello, love,” he slurred, his eyes glazed and unfocused and his voice seeming almost drunk. “I didn’t expect to see you so soon…”

[Mircea]

--The following transcript was a live chat roleplay-- Transcript posted in full with permission.

Habren: Some time later, Habren stood smoothly, sheathing her blade once more. It was time to rest, to relax as much as she could in this place, before it was time to hunt and attack once more. She leaned against the wall, just about to shut her eyes for a time when a loud crash sounded suddenly from above and before she knew it, Mircea had unceremoniously landed just before her. She raised a brow as she let the hand unclench from her blade’s hilt and released a shaky breath, pleased, amused and worried all at once. "Well well well. Ask and ye shall receive, my love..."

Mircea: Mircea stared up from the heap he made on the ground, blinking dazed eyes slowly while he tried to piece together quite how he had found himself with his wife. Had she made it through all that lay beyond to reach his side? Ah... No, he remembered as the feeling began to return in his body and he could slowly, slowly began moving his limbs again. "Ah... Hello, love. I was wrong. The mooncalves beyond the bears are by far the most gruesome..."

Habren: She laughed and stooped to help him up, giving a shake of her head once she realized he was alright. "Truly, love? I pray you bring me back a souvenir next time. ... I doubt I shall ever see them up close," she laughed, her fingers wrapping around his own as he steadied himself.

Mircea: "Be glad, love, for they are hideous," he murmured, still somewhat dizzy after his unanticipated flight through three floors and as many ceilings (or floors, depending upon how one looked at it). "However, I shall return at the earliest convenience and return to you with a present. It was thoughtless of me not to do so first time," he teased, squeezing his fingers and leaning slightly against her. In truth, the grip the beast had managed about his throat had frightened him a little. "They are huge too... Truly, they make me feel... Ah, dainty."

Habren: Her eyes widened slightly at his description of the creatures. "Dainty? Good gods, love, they must be terrifying to behold!" Her tone was incredulous, though it held a note of desire - so very few things truly terrified her any longer, or him for that matter; those would be a sight to behold indeed.

Mircea: He simply nodded and buried his nose against her hair for a moment, ridding himself of the cloying scent of death that surrounded them and drawing in instead the sweet wildflowers she always reminded him of. "I must have carved its chest open half a dozen times or more, and removed half its head from its shoulders and still it fought on... Barely even slowed, it seemed..."

Habren: At this, Habren let out a soft gasp, pleased to remain still for a time and wrapped in his arms. "It took that much damage and still continued?!" She was appalled; beyond the worry that this thing had almost done him in lay the bothersome, niggling concern over how this creature had come to be in the first place...

Mircea: "It took that much damage and still defeated me," he corrected her, his voice graver than it usually was as he thought back to the creature he had faced, still unsure how such a thing could exist. Even mooncalves and their elder cousins disturbed him in the power that needed to be tapped to create such a thing, but these were beyond his comprehension, beyond imagining if he hadn't seen it with his own eyes. "Twice it laid hands upon me, love. Only twice."

Habren: The implications of this were not lost on the woman as she slid her fingers into his hair and kissed him softly. "Does anyone have any idea as to from whence they came?" Her brows drew together; every other creature, her Mircea could withstand for several more rounds than that, many times over, and almost always win the day. But to be defeated after but two times in its grips? His prowess was irrefutable; had always been, which could only mean this ... thing ... was something even they had never come across before. "That is rather troubling. ..on several counts. .."

Mircea: He shook his head and let out a slow breath, the reality of what lay deeper into the complex creeping in more and more as the rush of battle left his system. "I have heard nothing about where they may have come from, love, though it gets worse... I saw, as we fought, yet another passage, deeper into this place. I can only imagine that there is something greater still beyond..." He mused, his thoughts as troubled as his wife's. There was nothing in or beneath the city that had bested him and nothing in centuries that had done so so easily. Only the demi-fae had previously drawn such caution from him as this monstrosity now demanded. "I could defeat it, I think, on another night, but it would take all I have to do so..."

Habren: She raised a brow as he spoke, incredulous. "So there could easily be worse...my gods," she murmured softly, her fingers delving deeper into his dark locks, wanting to soothe away the tension, no matter that they were equally worried over what all of this meant. "Everything you have?"

Mircea: "I cannot help but think that it was... Ah, guarding something, love. It rested between me and the passage beyond. What could something like this need to guard?" He asked, drawing her close against him. "Or who could control such a beast to force it to do so? I fear that what lays beyond is whatever creature of madness created these beasts in the first place and that may be a fight truly beyond me..."

Habren: The woman's brows drew tight together at this; her nigh-on unstoppable husband, worried? Worse, worried that this threat may even be beyond him? No. She could not even fathom such a thing. "My darling. ..surely there is a way? I can think of no other but you being capable of destroying that which has come for us... there must be something. ..some spell or ritual, perhaps. .."

Mircea: "There is always a way, love," he murmured with a small nod, leaning down to press a kiss to her brow. He hated to see her worry so, but he couldn't be anything less than entirely honest with her, however distasteful the truth may be to admit. "These... Ah, titans, I have called the beast... They are strong, but fairly slow and they bleed the same as you and I. If they can bleed, they can die and if they can die, I can kill them," he said, resolute in this new decision. The titans could die and he could kill them and it was quite suddenly as simple as that. "And, of course, I was... Ah, without your inspiration," he added with a wink.

Habren: She nodded quietly, the worries remaining clear in her eyes as she curled against his chest. "I know, love. But it is strange to think there is a creature that we have never seen and worse, that can do you harm... it is... not easy to swallow," she said softly. "And certainly unsettling...but... if you are able to best them, we shall do all we can to make it so, my love..." She eyed him as he continued. "Ah, damnit! I knew I forgot to do something upon rising this evening!" She gritted her teeth, far and away annoyed with herself by this failure as she was suddenly reminded.

Mircea: He simply smiled warmly at her and shook his head. "With so much blood on the air, love, it is hardly a surprise. It was not until I was on my way back here that I even realised it for myself," he said gently, brushing a piece of hair away from her face and pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "Peace now, love. What say you we hunt together a while and reaffirm my sense of masculinity?" He suggested with a grin, beginning to come to terms with what had happened and set himself to ensure it wasn't repeated.

Habren: She laughed softly and brushed a kiss to his throat before giving a slight nod. "Alright, my darling. A hunt. You can protect me from all the wretched beasts who insist upon besting me," she teased, giving him a light nudge.

Mircea: He grinned, laughing as he pushed away from the wall and gave her a low, regal bow, his lips barely brushing against her knuckles before he rose again. "It will be my great honour, m'lady, though I think perhaps you were simply distracted by thoughts of my absence and they will best you no more."

Habren: She gave him a flourished, exaggerated curtsy, like in their old days, but with a laugh at the level of played-up chivalry before she moved back against his chest. "Well, my lord. You may be right...but I think I shall find the reality of you here beside me far more distracting than your absence. You will have your work cut out for you this eve..."

Mircea: "When do I not with you, love?" He teased, leaning down to retrieve his sword and check it over briefly for any damage, pleased to find his Ileana still intact and willing to return to battle. "Come, let us see what blood there is to be spilled. It has been too long since I saw you fight so..."

Habren: "Ohhh, but you are asking for it, Mircea," she said, feigning outrage over the dig though her smile and laugh gave her away quite quickly. "Mmm.. well. I do like to make life interesting for you..." She leaned up for a soft kiss before her smile grew more coy and she looked at him from beneath her lashes. "And now you tempt me..."

Mircea: He smiled against her kiss, nipping gently at her lower lip as they drew apart. "I live to tempt you, love, and to see you give into temptation, so come. Let us put this worry to good use and kill something."

Habren: "Mmmm.. you do know just what I love... yes. Let us go..." She murmured, a thrill racing through her at the sharp nip before she threaded her fingers through his own and gave an impatient tug.

[Mircea]

--The following transcript was a live chat roleplay-- Transcript posted in full with permission.

Mircea: It had been a long, at times exhuasting return to the titan guardian, but finally Mircea had made it and decided to opt for a different tactic, keeping himself to the shadows of the passageway and sending Emilian on ahead to see what might lay beyond the monstrosity that still waited in the same place he had found it on his first unfortunate arrival in this place. It seemed an age that Emilian was gone and there was something... Strange about him when he return. He seemed almost eager to convey his findings rather than the unconcealed resistance the pair usually shared with one another. "There is something ahead, Grigore. Something interesting being guarded by these things," he said, twitching his head and glancing nervously at the titan. Ah! So there was something here, but what remained the question. Emilian seemed uncertain, only that it looked similar to some of the items of interest that he had Habren kept stored only in their most secret and sacred places about the city. Places they were sure they would remain safe from curious eyes or thieving hands and that was more than enough for Mircea to pull the shadows tightly around him and set off, skirting the edge of the cavern to squeeze past the gargantuan monster, following Emilian's guidance to what he had seen and where it was safe to place his feet so as not to trigger the traps that were littered throughout even that short walk. There it was, exactly as had been promised, sitting upon a stone pedestal and proudly displayed. He only looked at it for a few moments before hurrying a text to his wife with a picture of the tome's early pages attached. Habren. I think I have found something extraordinary

Habren: She had, as anticipated, lost miserably to one of the large, stinking beasts of the second floor. However, since deciding to rely more heavily on her firearm, it had taken the twelfth or thirteenth of them to send her hurtling back to the start. Clutching her broken ribs that were mostly healed already, she slid her phone from her pocket and read. As she did, her eyes widened slightly. What treasure had her male found in this dank, wretched place? She rapidly texted back. What have you picked up, love?

Mircea: Taking a chance, Mircea slipped the tome from its resting spot and dipped back into the passageway he had come from, as confident as he could be that the titan wouldn't bother him there while he struggled to decipher the ancient text and faeish instructions, his brow creasing as he became certain he must have mistranslated something along the way. If I read it right, it is what the wraiths speak of. A ritual to return flesh to the spirits.

Habren: Habren nearly dropped her phone in shock when she got his reply, fumbling for a moment and wincing as she jolted still-cracked bones while catching the small device. She re-read the text, then again before she let it slowly sink in. Gods, love...that tome... in the wrong hands...anyone could rise. Cobb... Broussard... you'll need to conceal it, and well…

Mircea: I will, love. I can only hope this is the only copy. He sent back with a sigh; it was a considerable concern: What if there were other copies, hidden throughout the caverns yet unexplored, or buried elsewhere? Who knew what might be done with it if certain groups or individuals got their hands on it... I love you, Habren. May the gods be wise in their gifts.

[Mircea]

It had become abundantly clear what secrets required such creatures as the titans to protect them and it was a secret Mircea found himself in possession of, but neither he nor Habren seemed quite sure what to do about it now that they had it. It was terrifyingly powerful and the repercussions of it ever finding its way into the wrong hands didn’t bear thinking about. He had faith in himself and Habren to be responsible with such a thing, but had no such belief in most of the rest of his kind and what the mortals would do with such a thing he could already well imagine. Lost parents brought back, lost children returned to their mother’s bosom. Friends and even enemies pulled from death and back into life and… For what? For the peace of a mourner that wouldn’t last any longer than it took to remember the pain and suffering the deceased had finally escaped and been unwillingly returned to.

After talking with his wife, Mircea had decided that his path ahead was clear: He had to know if there were more tomes like the one he had found, either copies of the same or instructions for other rituals that could be just as dangerous to society. If there were… He wasn’t certain yet what he would do if there were, supposing it would depend upon what they did. He would like to be able to say with surety that he would destroy them, but the ability to bind the fae in such ways had been lost to them for so long that he may not resist the temptation simply to know how to do it. There was an inherent magic in the tomes themselves, some spell imbued on the binding or pages that allowed such rituals to occur and, without them, practitioners in this particular brand of magic were simply laying down flowers and chanting a series of nonsense words and phrases. Destroying such knowledge would be… Difficult, but he could perhaps hide it. Hide is somewhere people didn’t know existed. Hide it somewhere vampires couldn’t simply walk in and pick it up as he had done.

He couldn’t skulk about in the shadows forever, though. Sooner or later they would fail him and the titan ahead (and its brother guardians, should it have them) would become aware of his presence. The better to have that happen on his own terms rather than be caught unawares by something so gargantuan and monstrously strong.

Before he had begun the long trek back, his Habren had worked her own magic, layering still more blessings on the wedding band he wore and swaying it towards protection and awareness so he might buy himself precious moments in a struggle to avoid such damage as he had previously suffered. It was a warm sort of enchantment, gently pulling at his attention and guiding him in just how to move to avoid the most catastrophic of injuries but otherwise remaining happily quiet upon his left hand. It felt comfortable, even so early in their experience of one another, Mircea and the magic; it felt like… Well, in truth, it felt like Habren. He could almost hear her whispering in his ear encouragement or warning when the ring pulled at his attention and coaxed him away from potential disaster. This titan, Mircea thought, would be a true test of the ring’s abilities, but, as ever, he had faith in his wife’s abilities, so advanced even before they met and now only more so and was sure that it would keep him from the worst of harms.

Remembering what had happened the last time he tried to get a surprise shot on his foe, Mircea opted for a different tactic this time around, drawing shadows even more thickly about his form from all corners of the cavern and then sending them flying away and up to form a thick coating across the titan’s eyes, the sudden darkness startling it into motion, only to find itself forced to stillness with Mircea’s second casting, grabbing hold of every single joint in the beast and making it seize up as only the dead could do. It looked almost comical, teetering on the precipice of toppling to the ground as it tried desperately to shift its weight quickly enough to catch the significant momentum it would carry should gravity snatch hold.

Rather than enjoy the show, though, Mircea was still moving, drawing a pair of arrows and sending them flying, one after the other at the great thing’s torso (or what he had determined was the torso, at least). The first skittered off a particularly thick patch of protective hide, but the second barbed tip embedded itself deeply in the titan’s chest just as the rigormortis spell was released and the creature’s movements were freed once more, allowing it to turn and begin a ponderous, terrifying charge that shook the entire cavern around them.

Mircea had seen this already and it no longer surprised him, instead only serving to warn him to get out of the way of all that mass and, dropping his bow in favour of unsheathing his sword, he ran towards the titan, his path angled slightly to take him past the beast. He jumped, reaching up high and slashing, two handed at the thing’s neck to find himself rewarded with a liberal coating of stinking, sticky blood that spurted from the wide gash.

Still struggling to quite gauge the thing’s speed (for it looked all at once slow and clumsy, but covered the length of the cavern in seconds), Mircea brought the shadows to bear once more, binding them again across the titan’s eyes so he could afford himself the time needed to bespell himself with greater speed and strength, feeling the early wear on his muscles disappear and finding himself refreshed even as his pupils again dilated to draw more light into his eyes and allow him to see in finer detail. Perhaps there would be something within the cavern itself – some stalagmite or other – he could use to aid him still further, but only if he could see it to put it to purpose. It was almost as an after-thought that he made one final alteration to his physical capabilities, flexing his fingers as the bones shifted and cracked beneath his skin until his off hand resembled more of an animal’s claw than a human limb, giving him an extra set of knives should he have need of them.

They were ready almost simultaneously, man and beast, with the titan shaking loose of the shadows and locking its gaze upon Mircea just as his bones and muscles finished settling into their new configuration. There was silence and stillness for a beat and then, as one, as if rehearsed, both charged at one another. The vampire was, by far, the more graceful of the two, lean and muscular while the other relied largely on brute force and momentum to power through any that came before it, as it had succeeded in doing to the man himself not so very long ago. It was a different version of the vampire the beast now met, though; he had spoken to his wife and promised her his victory and so victory would be had.

Making use of every inch of grace and power he possessed, Mircea launched himself upwards twisting as he flew through the air and driving his sword into the titan’s throat to anchor himself to it even as it struggled to halt its charge, its momentum suddenly a severe disadvantage when it came to out-manoeuvring the much smaller, more lithe vampire. He held on, twisting his sword when the jarring, jolting run finally came to an end and ripping it out to leave a gaping wound in the side of the thing’s neck. He wasn’t done there, though, twisting his sword around until the tip faced his own body and driving it deep through the eye of the titan. Were it almost any other creature, the blow would have incapacitated it, but in the case of the beast it seemed only to infuriate, its body bucking and slamming into the cavern walls in an attempt to dislodge its rider.

Deciding it best to avoid being caught between a rock and a truly enormous mass, Mircea jumped from the creature’s shoulders, dragging a bloody line down its neck with the tip of his sword as he did and rolling away from the growing puddle of ichor and blood, dragging the shadows behind him to conceal himself from sight and deaden sound until he could regain his balance and bearings.

It took but a single roll for the vampire to spring back to his feet and face the blinded titan, keeping to the side with the bloodied eye to make the task of capturing him ever more difficult for the undeniably weakened thing. It stumbled forwards, blindly swinging for the prey it could hear but never quite see, but, over-extending itself, it met only the bite of Mircea’s sword again as he spun beneath one groping arm, turned a pirouette and slashed his blade across its one remaining eye, blinding it completely to him and buying him a precious advantage.

Again and again it tried to follow the sound of his footsteps on the stone beneath them, but the echoes distorted the sound, making it difficult to track and Mircea was always just an inch or two quicker, dancing almost merrily out of harm’s way while he awaited the perfect moment to strike. It came quickly and he knew the instant it presented itself, dodging aside an open handed swipe and burying his sword to the hilt in the back of the beast’s throat before applying all of his weight and strength to open the thing from neck to navel and spill whatever kept it alive, be it magic or blood, upon the cavern floor. It was disgusting, putrid stuff, but it was finally, and forever more, still, the remains of what had once been living flesh crumbling away to ashes before his very eyes until naught but a comparatively small knuckle bone remained to be snatched up for his wife’s later perusal and investigation.

[Mircea]

Once the first had been felled, Mircea seemed to find it easier and easier to bring down the gargantuan titans that patrolled the caverns deep below the catacombs. Their strength couldn’t be denied and they had an unexpected speed, even if it was neither grateful nor easily manoeuvred, but they were not the most intelligent of creatures and the vampire had speed and strength of his own to lend to the cause of toppling the great beasts and once he was filled with the knowledge of how to best them and with the comfort of Habren’s magic thrumming through his sword and body alike, there would be no stopping him. Indeed, after the first few fights, the things barely ever got close enough for him to need to jump out the way of their swiping claws or gnashing teeth, only coming within reach of the man for long enough to bleed and grow ever weaker.

Emilian was still proving that he could be useful when his mind was set upon it, scouting ahead and warning Mircea of where pitfalls lay. There were a surprising number of the titans roaming the twisting passageways, some stooped over into low-ceilinged tunnels while still others roamed freely in great, domed rooms of rough hewn stone. The sheer numbers of titans only served to make their destruction all the more vital in Mircea’s thoughts, for surely so many were guarding something more than the tome he had taken into his possession, but what that might be he couldn’t quite begin to imagine. So, it was with a curious sort of dread that he progressed more deeply still into the underground complex once he finally discovered the secret to progressing beyond the barrier that separated the various levels from one another, though… Whether that was to keep people like him out or to keep whatever lay below in he couldn’t be sure, but he was drawn downwards deeper into the earth all the same, the air noticeably colder than it was even in the catacombs, much less on the surface in the fresh air.

Emilian paced silently beside his master, his feet inches above the stone floor and making no sound; he could simply float along, propelling himself along with nothing more than the will to move, but he seemed for some reason to prefer making the motions of walking. It perhaps felt more natural, more human to him. Something about the place had quietened the wraith. Whether it was his time trapped within the spirit cage or the brief return to the shadow realm, even if only for a few moments, the sheer… Unnaturalness of the creatures there, especially so far down, or the suspected nature of the tome they had found, he was quiet and contemplative, agreeable and co-operative and, most surprisingly of all, he provided genuine, even eager assistance in helping Mircea to navigate the maze of passages and caves as safely as possible without the request having to become an order. If only he could be so more of the time, Mircea and Habren might less frequently question whether his insolence outweighed his usefulness most of the time and if they might not all be happier (and possibly safer) were he to be banished from whence he came. Still… He had been of help to him in this place, even before the instructions to gift flesh were discovered.

”Thank you for your help here, Emilian. Go on ahead and see what lies before us,” Mircea said quietly, even the whisper rebounding off the stone in a series of gentle echoes. The wraith simply nodded without a word and turned away to follow his chosen direction while Mircea settled down against the cavern wall to catch his breath and wait for news, turning the small collection of titan bones he had scooped up over and over in curiosity and contemplation. They were not unlike the mooncalves of the Quarantine, nor their larger cousins found above and in the lairs of some rogue necromancers. Indeed, Mircea knew the theory of how to create such a creature, binding together multiple zombies to create a sort of Frankenstein effect, but the time and power that would have been needed to create even one of the titans he had faced was enormous, much less the army of them that seemed to reside in the caves beneath the city. Perhaps Habren would be able to glean some understanding from it, he thought, and it had been with her in mind that he had collected them together. She would better be able to sense and interpret any residual magic than he and they might learn something about their origin or how long they had lived beneath the city beyond all knowledge. Cobb might possess the power to create such beasts, after all, and though he had been dead for two years, he had roamed and ruled the city freely for as many centuries before their return. There was no telling what he might have done in all that time and such creatures would no be beyond the man’s moral preferences… Or his lack thereof.

It was perhaps an hour or more before Emilian finally returned, though time was difficult to judge in such an environment for the man who wore no watch and, since the day of his mortal birth, had relied upon the position of sun and moon to tell him of such things. When he did, it was with a fraught, panicked air about him that seemed not to befit the wraith at all. It was true, Emilian had always been something of a coward, but he was usually more contained in his fear. ”Grigore, we should not stay here. There is nothing good to come of this place; take your tome and let us go,” he whispered, bobbing up and down restlessly. It was the wraith’s equivalent to nervous pacing and his repeated glances towards the passage they had entered the cavern from told of his reluctance to remain for any longer than he had to.

”What troubled you so, Emilian? It cannot be any worse than the titans before,” Mircea answered with only a faint note of impatience. Every time, without fail, that Emilian encountered some new creature in the city, from the greater mooncalves on, he had bid Mircea leave and never return, mistaking his lack of fighting prowess for his master’s and, every time, he had been proven foolish in his judgement. Yet, even so, the wraith seemed particularly disturbed by what he had seen, rising and falling time and again where he floated a few inches above the ground. ”It is not natural, Grigore, the creature those titans guard. It is… It is cursed. Your mother would weep were she here to learn of such a thing existing and she would bid you as I do: Leave. Quickly.” The two spoke, as always, in Romanian and the particular phrasing Emilian had chosen gave Mircea cause for pause; it was rare indeed that the wraith braved discussion of Mircea’s mortal family, their human lives having caused so much of the angst that existed between them and to talk of his mother in the same breath as the magic of the dead held weight indeed. The gypsy woman had always held very firm beliefs on what magic should and should not be used for and had expressed them vocally whenever the occasion arose, whether anybody was listening or not.

Mircea hesitated, truly considering Emilian’s advice for the first time; it was more than possible that he was exaggerating and, usually, that would be Mircea’s immediate assumption, but there was just something different about him this time. He was more agitated and restless than usual, more insistent and taking significant risks with his master’s patience in mentioning his mother so. It all leant his words a certain credibility that they often lacked in these situations. Even so, it all served to heighten Mircea’s curiosity even more. He had always been interested in things that posed him a threat or challenge, determined to best them in one way or another, whether it was taming the stallion he own who, when he had acquired him, could barely stand to be sat upon, or the likes of the titans that posed a more primal challenge, Mircea had always had to know he could rise above such difficulties. Perhaps it was a hangover from his difficult early days as a baby and the worry that he wouldn’t survive them. Whatever it was, his mother had often claimed that such recklessness would be the death of him, and had even more often been proven wrong in her prophecy. Emilian was watching him studiously, eyes narrowed slightly and probably coming to the same conclusion about Mircea’s decision just an instant before it was announced. ”We will just take a look, and if it is as cursed as you say, we can find a way to leave. There is bound to be some way out of here somewhere,” he grinned, knowing as well as his wraith did that, having entered the deep passages, the only way back up would be to find yet another trinket to grant him access back through the barrier that had kept him from coming below any sooner than he had. ”Come. Show me the way.”

Emilian, perhaps wisely, thought that his master seemed far too happy to be heading towards the threat, but kept his thoughts to himself as he guided him safely along the passages and around the various traps that littered the caves. There seemed to be more in this part of the complex and strategically placed in narrow portions so that even the slightest misstep would see them triggered and the unlucky wanderer skewered upon spikes. So, it was with a certain amount of satisfaction that Emilian floated to a stop when he heard Grigore’s footsteps falter within the cavernous ‘room’ housing the final guardian of this place. He had told him not to come, he had warned him again and again that it wasn’t for them to be involved with such unnatural things, but had he listened? No, of course not, because Grigore always knew better than Emilian and there was simply nothing that he couldn’t best in combat… Except that titan Emilian had tried to warn him about, of course… And the demi-fae that had wandered the woods the previous winter… And who knew what else besides. ”You see, Grigore. It is wrong here. You have seen. Now, let us return the way we came before it becomes aware of us,” he hissed, urging his sire to turn and already moving back the way they had come himself, but the vampire wasn’t moving. Why wasn’t he moving, the fool? No, he was just staring at the damned creature with that look he got when he was sizing up an opponent… Or a meal. Gods grant him patience, the idiot was going to fight it, he just knew it. And then where would he be? Grigore would be dead and Emilian’s tether tot he mortal realm would be snapped, leaving him to the existence he had had before the arrogant *** had summoned and bound him. It was hard to say which was worse: Dealing with Grigore and his witch of a wife for the rest of eternity or wandering in the darkness with only the cries of the damned to keep him warm. Still… Perhaps they would get lucky and the creature – whatever it was – would only cripple Grigore. It might do him some good to take a sound beating; the gods knew he could use a lesson in humility every now and again.

What is it? Mircea wondered to himself taking in the sight before him. It had been difficult to make out at first, in the darkness of such deep caverns, but the longer he looked at the spot where it waited, the clearer it seemed to become to him. Whatever it was, it was like nothing he had ever seen before: More than Emilian, but less than himself at the same time, the darkness seemed to coalesce into the shape of a man, but not the shape of a man at the same time. It seemed stretched somehow, impossibly tall and lithe with no truly discernable features. Like the wraith accompanying him, it seemed to hover just above the ground beneath it, the edges of its cloak of shadows trailing against the stones when it turned this way or that and there was a sound coming from it that could only be likened to the death rattle of a thousand mortal men all dying at once. There were no legs that he could see, but the drape of the creature’s cloak could easily be hiding them from view… Or they could simply not exist; if the creature did not touch upon solid ground, it had no need for legs to propel it and, though the wraiths often chose to at least mimic the act of walking, perhaps this… Thing, whatever it was, had simply decided that having legs was superfluous and merely adopted the long cloak instead. Perhaps he would find out shortly… There were arms, though, longer than a man’s but in proportion to the length of the darkness given shape and form and, extending from beyond the end of one, was yet more darkness, more densely concentrated in what looked to be… Yes! When the thing turned slightly, Mircea could see that it carried a sword. Lifting his gaze away from the weapon and higher still, he came the the being’s head, its face hidden once again by a covering of billowing darkness that seemed almost to pulse around the shape beneath them. It was impossible to see its face, between the distance, the darkness and the disguise… assuming that it had one at all, of course.

”Grigore… Don’t,” Emilian warned in a hushed whisper, but Mircea’s sword was already in hand and he was stepping tentatively towards the strange being, holding the shadows tightly around himself to keep from sight. He stepped carefully, keeping to the same mindset he had when hunting deer in the woods, filled with the knowledge that one missed step, one snapped twig – or disturbed pebble in this case – would give his prey foreknowledge of his presence and whereabouts and rob him of the element of surprise, such as it was. When he was just a few feet away, tucked in against the wall of the cavern, Mircea made his move. grasping the shadows that wrapped comfortably around him and concealed him from sight and twisted their purpose, sending them to the dark creature to rob it of whatever vision it had beneath that hood it wore. It seemed to work, as the creature let out a piercing cry, but then… Then the shadows rushed away from it, exploding outwards in all directions and, when they hit Mircea, bringing with them an unnatural heat. Suddenly it was as though his body was on fire from the inside out, his very blood boiling in his veins until he could barely see beyond the pain to know that the… Thing was rushing towards him. Acting on pure instinct, Mircea brought his sword around, slashing horizontally and holding it with both hands, but, though it cut through the darkness and disappeared from sight within the creature’s body before re-emerging on the other side, it gave no sign that it had actually suffered any kind of damage or even discomfort and Mircea had to use every bit of speed afforded to him to dodge out of the way, the hot shadows still clinging to his flesh.

With a grunt, he took his left hand from the hilt of Ileana and delved into the darkness around him, putting his will into the touch and shaping it to his desires, stealing control of the shadows away from the being. When he was finished dragging them from their cloying hold on his body, Mircea found himself armed with not one but two swords, one fashioned of steel and the other of shadow, physical prowess and magical skill lending him their aid in equal measure. A growl rose of its own accord from between Mircea’s lips, his teeth bared as he closed the distance and struck out with the darkness, battle rage taking him early and turning the creature’s own damnable weapon back against it, this time with greater success. It reeled backwards away from the blade and the shadows around it seemed to quiver uncertainly for a moment while the being righted itself and thrust out one long arm towards its attacker. Suddenly the heat was back, the burning sensation beginning at Mircea’s left hand where it wrapped around the shadow blade and then shooting up his arm to the rest of his body.

It went on like that, the vampire and the darkness battling with each other for control of the shadows that saw both as their master. Whenever the blackness won the battle, Mircea’s body would explode with heat and pain, while his own victories were quieter, dragging pieces of the darkness out of the thing’s body and adding its mass to his blackened sword. And all the while, their swords clashed in eerie silence, Ileana’s steel able to stop the sword of shadows Mircea’s opponent bore, but unable to do any damage besides.

It seemed to stretch on forever, the violent dance across the cavern’s floor, the creature’s thrusts and slashes missing by inches or else being intercepted at the last moment by a barrier or steel or shadow and Mircea only occasionally managing to lick at the shadows with his own darkness, but with each touch the being seemed to shrink in on itself, little by little until, with his next attack, Mircea was able to reach what should have been the creature’s face. The shadows around its held fell away in wisps almost apologetically to reveal the horror beneath. Where there should have been a face there simply… Wasn’t. A ridge of concentrated darkness suggested what should have been eyebrows, but there were no eyes beneath, simply a deeper indent in the darkness to recommend their position and split by a protrusion in the vague shape of a nose. There was no mouth at all, begging the question of how the creature’s screams and cries had been formed. It was as if the thing had been sculpted from the darkest clay but never quite finished, only begun and left to its hideous fate and horrendous wrath.

Robbed of concentration for a moment, Mircea had to call to still more shadows, quickly building a clumsy wall between himself and the faceless thing to hide him from sight and hold it back while the vampire found his bearings once again, taking several panting breaths to steady himself. He was exhausted, the fight having dragged on for so long and he wasn’t sure how much longer he would be able to keep up such a pace, but the darkness had slowed too and shrunk down to a head or so shorter than Mircea himself. Even so, it was just as determined as ever to put Mircea to the sword, attacking with bursts of speed and strength instead of the relentless onslaught of earlier in their battle, but the heedless attacks left it vulnerable and, blocking one such wide, heavy handed swing with his blade, Mircea pivoted inside the creature’s reach and brought his sword to bear, repeating his first stroke with a horizontal slash, this time with one hand and going straight through the shadows that formed the being’s neck. There was a moment of stillness, of breathless silence when the being seemed to be unsure of what had happened and then an explosion without fire or heat or sound. A rush of air sent Mircea stumbling backwards into a painful roll to fetch up hard against a column of stone with an unfortunate crunch that he couldn’t decide whether it had come from his bones or from the stone against his back.

The shadows were gone, leaving no sign that there had ever been a man-shaped creature formed of them. Indeed, the only evidence that there had been anything in the cave with Mircea at all was a small pile of ash on the ground where the fight had reached its conclusion.

”Grigore? Is it…” Came Emilian’s voice, hesitant and afraid. The wraith had lurked to watch the entire, terrifying event and finally crept forward from his hiding place slowly, head pivoting left and right to assure himself that the coast was clear. He came to stop before Grigore’s crumpled form on the ground, bobbing restless up and down on the spot while he looked down to see if his master was alive, able to move, still out of his mind. Grudgingly, he admitted to himself that Grigore was a fine swordsman, perhaps the finest Emilian had seen (though that said little, as he hadn’t seen many), but it had still be a foolish, reckless, suicidal thing to do to engage himself in such a fight! And he knew, he knew that he would be blamed if the damn idiot emerged injured or didn’t emerge at all. Somehow Grigore’s stupidity would become his fault and he’d be hearing about it for the rest of eternity… If he wasn’t banished first, of course, as was the constant Sword of Damocles swinging precariously over his head.

Slowly, carefully, and with more than one grunt of discomfort and cracking of joints, Mircea found his feet and stood unsteadily, leaning against the column he had crashed into for several minutes before he eased his way across to the mounded pile of ash. ”I think it is gone, or dead, if it can die…” He said finally in answer to Emilian’s question, stooping down to get a closer look at all that seemed to remain. It looked like normal ashes, as remained when they cleared out the fires at home or, more sinisterly, were left behind when most vampires were killed. With that same curiosity stirring again, Mircea reached into a pocket and withdrew a small vial, usually used to hold the blood of feral vampires or those strange bears that seemed disturbingly similar in make up and behaviour. Checking that it was clean and dry, he filled it with a sample of the ashes and secured it safely back in his pocket, resolutely ignoring Emilian’s panicked jabbering until he was good and ready to turn around and see what was the matter this time, his eyes widening when he saw precisely what was so urgent.

It seemed that he had hit the column harder than even his bones had thought and it was beginning to buckle, stones crumbling away in rapidly increasing succession. Soon, the entire thing would collapse and he didn’t want to be around to find out whether or not it supported the roof of the cave he stood in. ”Go,”" was all he said, his feet already moving at a sprint towards the opening of the passage they had entered from and just as well too, for just a few strides along it there came the grinding of stone on stone, getting louder until it came crashing down and a cloud of dust chased them along the passages winding back towards the surface. Emilian, to his credit, kept pace with his master rather than zipping on ahead and guided him admirably through the dark caves with the sound of crashing rocks uncomfortably close behind as the caves fell in on themselves. The air was getting fresher and the light brighter as Mircea pushed himself, exhausted and battered, ever onwards, climbing steep slopes and moving endlessly uphill until he reached what he recognised as the highest caves and passages and looked hurriedly about for a sign of Habren, his head turning this way and that as he ran until… There! He saw her and skidded to a halt in front of her, breathing heavily and grasping her hand with his left, Ileana still clutched tightly in his right. ”Habren… We must go. Quickly. Now. I… Ah, gods, The caves are collapsing. I will explain when we are out. Go… Hurry.” He urged, already moving and keeping a tight hold on her hand. It was rare, very rare, that Mircea was so insistent and urgent about getting out of somewhere where there were fights to be had, but on this occasion there was simply no choice about the matter and he trusted his wife to know and understand the seriousness of the situation.

This was going to take some explaining once they were home, of course…