marduk_caradoc

Turning of the Wheel...

Tue, 05 Jan 2010 19:14:39 GMT

How long has it been since I last touched quill to this journal? How long since I've turned my gaze inward? Every time I close my eyes I see the Wheel of Ages slowly turning. I see cycles of pain and loss. I see it manifest in the people of love. Young lovers separated by death. Hopeless souls spiraling deeper into the abyss of their own despair because they know not how to reach out for help.

And I see these things. And I speak. Who listens?

I've have become adept at seeing patterns unfold before me, clear as the purest crystal. I need not call upon the power Eld Magnil doth bless me with, I can simply make the leaps of faith and logic. But it is the curse of you to not heed the words of experience. And it is the curse of experience to crawl cautious, than run free.

My younger siblings do me proud. They will be my greatest legacy when my time is done. They are wonderful souls, each determined in their own way, each masterful in turn. They are the best part of me. The worst part, I keep locked within. It is the part that buries dreams and selfish desires. It is the part that longs to be free of impossible duty. It is the part rages against a destiny that was never chosen but inherited. It is sad to say that I know Death, better than any lover I've ever had.

I go out into the snowy maze of trees of the Wilderlands. I don't remember when I stopped bothering with stealth. I walk into Strigoi nests and stand there as they react to my presence. And when they leap at me, I take them down. No finesse, no deception, brute strength and will against theirs. When a blow lands, if one even does, I relish the pain. And then quickly, it is over.

Why do I do this? Why do I go against all the rules I've set for my students and Rangers? Why am I so numb?

Perhaps its not such a mystery. Perhaps the heavy snows remind me of my nightmare nights in the Dark Realm. Perhaps the real pain comes from seeing the faces of Companions I've had to bring down. For even if they were dark incarnations of my true friends, one never forgets the feeling of their blood on one's hands. The look in their eyes as the sudden understanding that you ended them, takes root. I have never been able to move on from death like others seem to be able to.

Strange then it is, that other aspects of my existence prosper. Without a doubt, I am the richest man in Warwick. And that was before discovering a massive silver deposit literally below my feet. I give to charity. I provide for the needy. I have started funds for veterans of Warwick's wars, and am contemplating the funding a hospice for those old warriors in need care and comfort in their twilight years. I've even incorporated. After losing a small legal battle for the name "Flying Squid-Monster Inc." (who knew it was such a popular name), I finally settled on "Deadman Inc."

Fitting I think...

Lazarine Distilleries continues to be the lynch-pin of my portfolio. While the construction and resource gathering business is good, booze sells the best. I do believe Lazarus is the wealthiest incorporial in existence, at the very least Warwick. And with distribution now established in Caledonia and Cathar, demand for our spectral spirits will only increase.

I think I shall buy myself an island to someday retire to. One that reminds me of my birthplace. And those will be days filled with the light of the Undying Sun, and the Eternal Night will fade into nothing more than a bad dream.

--Lord Marduk Caradoc

Transition.

Wed, 22 Apr 2009 18:03:19 GMT

The past weeks have been a whirlwind. I find it hard to keep everything straight in my head.

I have traveled twice to the Obsidian Realm to find some solace for Mitternacht through knowledge and mentorship. I keep trying to remind her of her center, so that she does not forget the kind, sweet girl she is. That she does not forget she is a Companion and has shown the Light within her not just to us, but to the eyes of Avalon as well.

But I know the look in her eyes now. I have seen it before. Her power is blossoming and she is beginning to revel in them. Her spectrum of right and wrong is starting to shift.

It was inevitable.

This is the natural continuation of the path she walks. She has to reconcile who she is and what she is and find equilibrium; and enforce it through will. All I can do is be vigilant. Watch things unfold. There is a small window here. I have faith, but I'm also practical.

Casimir is another worry. I understand his concerns, and if it were any other time, I would trust him to keep himself in check. But he is stressed. His younger sibling, whom I have perhaps greater concern for than Mitternacht at this point, is... as harsh as it is to say... unraveling. When I look into Eomod's eyes, I see churning storm clouds. Her gaze seems to be looking past this world and into another. She is not all here with us. Where has the rest gone?

I don't know how much people worry about these things. Perhaps its the nature of a Companion to be somewhat jaded when things are constantly happening around you. But I worry about these things on a personal level. These are my friends and I would protect them from what troubles them if I could.

In the meantime, I am starting an improptu training cycle. I have asked Mitternacht to come with me on a hunt and Reginald and my brother Antonesque have asked to be trained as well. I don't know how much they'll think me their friend when the cycle is finished. But at least they will understand that this is not a game, and that the monsters in the night are real.

--Lord Marduk Caradoc

Pain. (Part III)

Wed, 08 Apr 2009 18:34:41 GMT

OOC NOTE: Due to some technical issues with LJ eating my posts (and I'm still pissed about it, The original "Pain III" was still the best in my mind), I'm a bit behind with regards to real time. The goal is to lag behind only about a week or so... clearly I have some catching up to do. Thanks for reading though, and your patience.

No. Even as reality fluxes in and out of focus I can tell. The long blonde hair and smooth pale skin are so similar, but those icy blue eyes are those of a predator, not the loving, caring Inanna I remember.

“Say that name again” she demands, and I am compelled to respond.
“Inanna...”
“You love her, don’t you?”
“Yes…”
“Yes, I can feel it. I haven’t felt such love in centuries. It’s intoxicating. I can’t even remember if ever I was the object of such love; it has been so long.”

She gracefully descends onto all fours and crawling methodically, hungrily, towards me. She locks her eyes on mine.

“Do you know what the real curse of immortality is? Everything you love dies. You live forever, but it’s an eternity of cold and loneliness. Imagine this longing you feel, stretching out for centuries. Imagine the absence of love for so long that one night, you simply forget what it's like at all."

Her eyes look almost pleading.

“I can be her for you. I can love you like she did. Just… let me bask in yours. Let me feel love again...”

She kisses me. Despite the icy lips, it sends fire through me. I try to resist but it’s overwhelming. I wrap my arms around her pressing her against me, imagining that she is Inanna—fooling myself.

She rips my coat open, exposing my chest and neck. I close my eyes and rest my head against the tree. Her kisses come faster and more forcefully. Every gliding touch of her lips brings the gentle graze of a razor-sharp fang. She pulls herself away with a feral, guttural growl. She is panting with excitement despite not having to draw breath for centuries. Her fangs extend.

“You will be mine forever.”

Perhaps this is how it should end. There would be no coming back this time. I am haunted by my memories and deeds. I don’t recall the last time I truly felt like I belonged. Even amongst my clanmates I often feel like a blight on their good cheer.

I turn my head and expose my neck. She wastes no time.

I can feel my life being siphoned away, strangely painless. In my mind’s eye I see my mother's face. I see her getting devoured by the first vampires I ever destroyed. I see the tears on Inanna’s face as I kissed her goodbye and left for the Aquatanian front. I see again the fear in the eyes of her Dark Realm doppelganger, as I ran her through with my poisoned blade. I can see the look of hope in Faedra's eyes, when her ring poured out my soul into my dead body. Suddenly, the pain is there. It cuts through the fugue and everything appears perfectly clear for the first time since...

I push her off with as much force as I can muster--she goes flying, colliding with a distant tree. I leap to my feet ready for the counterattack, my ankle feeling quite stable and strong. But it would never come. Her veins swell, burning a deep red under her translucent skin. Her eyes bulge with fear as she gasps and gags, clawing at her throat. I unsheathe my khopesh, savoring the grinding of metal against metal; now I am the predator.

“My blood is poison to your kind” I calmly explain. “You will die a slow, painful, final death. It would be a fitting demise for a monster like you. But you’ve reminded me of an important lesson I’d forgotten. You’ve given me back purpose and clarity. And for that, I’ll grant you the small mercy of a quick ending…”

She pulls herself up to her knees gathering her remaining strength, fear turning to defiance.

“One night…” she rasps, “…one of my kind… will come for you… and you will die…”

From deep within me came an eruption of manic, uncontrollable laughter. Her words are absurd, utterly ridiculous to my ears. As my laughter subsides I look into her eyes one last time for any trace of humanity. There is none.

“You threaten me with death? Been there. Done that.”

One quick glint of steel and it was over, her body crumbling into two neat mounds of dust in the snow. I feel shame for letting despair get the better of me. I would have turned my back on all that I love and everyone that cares for me. And why? Because all I do is dwell on the past. Because I don't know how to embrace this new chance at life. Because I refuse to opening my heart to something worthy, for fear that it will be taken away.

I kick over the mound that was once her head.

“The world doesn’t need another martyr” I say to heaven, and start back towards the darkness of the forest.

--Lord Marduk Caradoc

Pain. (Part II)

Wed, 25 Mar 2009 23:06:36 GMT

The nest was big.

Bigger than I'd imagined. I'd known about the cabin for days; I even planned to use it as a team exercise for the ranger trainees. But tonight, I needed this. The ambient cold numbs the sensation in my ankle but it still feels unstable. It doesn't really matter, grace and stealth are not on my mind.

With my good leg I kick the door in. It shatters into hundreds of flying shards. One miraculously--or rather comically: pierces the heart of an unsuspecting vampire. The others, nine by my count: jump-up at once and charge. Everything slows down to near stillness. I can feel the ripples of their reactions and intent in the ether. I can sense their line of attack, their strategy, how to counter it. But I don't want a chess match and I don't have patience for the macabre dance tonight. I want resistance; I want them to struggle. I want them to know what it feels like to be at the mercy of a more powerful being. I want them to know fear one last time before final-death.

I focus my will and utter a single word of power. My voice reverberates throughout the cabin and all are frozen in place. I can feel their muscles tensing, pushing against my will. and I relish it. I whisper another ancient word and their flesh begins to spark and boil. I unison they cry out in agony as blisters erupt in flame. And I too cry out, pummeled by the strain.

Not since I was High Druin have I exerted myself magically like this. That nearly infinite well of power I had then was noticeably lacking now. I can feel myself draining down to nothing. My knees want to buckle as my head head pounds, but I persist. Like lingering kernels in a hot kettle, their heads burst with the heat; each marking their final passing with a fluttering shower of ash.

I fall to my knees, panting, sweating despite the cold. All I can hear is the sound of my thundering heart and yet. But... something else stirs in the night. I'm not...

Pain and darkness.

I felt the presence only a moment before the impact on my skull. I couldn't have blacked out for more than a few seconds but that was enough to leave me prone and disoriented on the snowy ground. I felt the presence again and instantly I understand. The master of the brood was not part of the ash-cloud still smoldering in the cabin. I pick myself up, using a tree to steady myself. I touched my hand to the epicenter of pain at the back of my head; it is covered in hot, sticky moisture.

"Mmmm..." a sultry, feminine voice swoons with infinite hunger. "Your blood, it smells spicy and sweet all in the same breath."

My eyes instinctively follow the sound. The source: long blonde hair, the fairest skin, cold--ancient eyes of blue. My fingers dig into bark. I cannot believe my eyes. It's impossible! And even as I disbelieve, a single word, a name, escapes my lips...

"Inanna..."

(To be continued...)

Pain. (Part I)

Tue, 17 Mar 2009 23:08:19 GMT

Pain.

We run from it. We hide from it. Sometimes we give-in to it. We spend our lives reacting to it.

Painful, a conversation can be, but how could Dorian know? They were innocent enough questions; just trying to get to know her host; just trying to learn about his past. Words that penetrate a decade’s façade, they pierce me where I am most vulnerable, where I have no armor.

I walk down the darkened hallway, trying not to grimace as I do so. My thoughts shift from my ankle to darker things. I can still feel the cold of Mitternacht’s dead flesh. I can still hear the agony of Eomod’s wailing. I can still see… the parallels with my own tragic loss.

Mercifully, the villa is quiet. The Rangers are on their best behavior for our guest. On any given night, I house a number of them. They come and go with the fortunes of life, and I don’t mind it. Actually, I enjoy the company. They serve as my guards and couriers, but really, their youthful presence is recompense enough.

I make my way to the outside deck. The stinging cold feels good. Sometimes pain can be pleasant. Without even turning I can sense Isabel watching. She is my best student, my lieutenant. She has been with me for years, and stayed here since I first found her amongst the ashes of her parents. They were turned you see, and she had to… defend herself. So filled with pain, but nothing compared to that which she would unleash upon the world had I not found her in time. Monsters: I’ve learned - are not born, they are made. It hasn’t always been easy with her. It took time for her to trust in anyone or anything. It took longer still for any sun to reach the depths of her soul. And when she fell in love with… when she had to learn the painful life-lesson that "some things are just not meant to be", she was nearly lost again.

I turn my head and acknowledge her with a slight (if forced) smile. As always, she sees right through it.

“I know that look.” she declares, breaking the silence. “You know you shouldn’t go hunting on that ankle.”
“You’ll make a great mother someday” I say with a chuckle.

“I mean it! I will crack you in the head with your own staff if I have to!”

“A bit counter-productive don’t you think?

Her look, flustered with concern and stubbornness said it all. She was ready to back up her threats. Such an irony of the heart that you can care for someone so much that you’re willing to hurt them.

I step towards her and envelop her in my arms. She tenses ever so briefly as I pull her close, as if she had forgotten what to make of a simple hug. The tension shifts into something else. She presses herself against me. Her heart pounding, her breath quickening greedily taking in my scent; a tiny sigh escapes her lips and I know I’ve stoked the fire too much.

I close my eyes and resonate calm. It is just enough to bring her back into the moment. I can sense her search for words, for some way to apologize or explain but instead, I kiss her gently on her forehead.

“Don’t wait up.” I whisper, as reality bends and shifts around me, whisking me away to some other place.

(To be continued...)

Irony.

Tue, 10 Mar 2009 20:25:38 GMT

Dame Dorian is a playful soul. She is a dervish of sunshine and good intentions. She is also quite accident prone. So it was mild horror that gripped me when she asked for a tree-top villa of her own. Of course, she is a Companion, she can live where she pleases but...

Obviously, I can make this happen. As a member of Clan Caradoc, and Wilderlands being a Caradoc land, there is literally no red tape. And through the companies and subsidiaries I own, it would literally be "wham-bam-thank you-ma'am". A Loan via Bank of the Bat. Construction materials via Rape & Pillage Industries (I know unfortunate name, it's a new acquisition). And of course, the actual building by Flying Cthulu Construction.

Instead of refusing, I challenged her to go a week without getting injured. I also asked her to stay with me that week in my villa as... an experiment.

While she has remained fairly unharmed, how ironic is it that it was I who got injured. No heroic tales of battling monsters of ancient lore, or insurmountable odds. No... I stepped in a mudhole and rolled my ankle.

I always knew Eld Magnil had a sense of humor. And not just because I've heard some of his jokes...

* * *

How strange it is to be a hunter protecting that which is commonly your prey. It is still too early to tell how Mitternacht or the other Companions will take to her new condition. The fear that one way or another I will have to intervene is always close to the forefront of my mind. She has my talisman however, she can call to me if she is in danger or endangering others. But it is still her choice to use it.

This is a critical time for her. She MUST exercise her free will. She MUST choose for herself to follow the light. It is in these weak, frail stages that her conviction will be tempered. I can only hope that she will choose the light. And likewise, that my fellow Companions will see the light within her.

--Lord Marduk Caradoc

Instinct.

Tue, 10 Mar 2009 19:19:16 GMT

Alone, I sit in my sanctum, staring at a single candle-light. The dancing flame casts a theatre of shadow playing through the events of the night. The shadow curtain opens and I stand before the assembled court. There is an alter beside the High Druin, beside which he waits at attention. Each of the players is in-place and all that is left is for beautiful brides to emerge. The Companions grow restless, and in that same moment, my heart begins to sink. Deep down, I feel it. I feel the twisting of fate.

Instinct guides me. I make my way down the darkened corridor hastily, but not enough to cause alarm. I look for Eomod and catch a glimpse of her silent form-- a barely contained jumble of anxiety, hope, and joy. Instinct, however, compels me to keep going and I obey. I make it to the waiting room and knock. Once, twice, three times without an answer. Even before I open the door, I know Mitternacht would not be there.

Panic strikes but I force it down. I focus my will and force my mind's eye to picture her personal chambers... and take me there. The air around me grows hot and reality becomes liquid, with a crack of thunder, I am there. She lies on the ground, motionless, not breathing. I cannot focus my senses enough to search for lingering danger. I take her in my arms and will us back to the waiting room.

I take a moment to breathe and steady myself. I shake her, gently at first then more violently. I call out desperately to her "Wake up, Little Midnight, today's your wedding day!", but to no avail.

I lift up her in my arms. The High Druin's connection to Eld Magnil is the only thing that can help her now. Though I do not sense life, somewhere deep down, I still feel her spirit stir.

I power through stunned Companions and I lay her on the alter. She looks like a sacrifice. Everyone converges, trying to call to her, to wake her. I am already losing to despair as Eomod's sorrow hits me like a tidal wave before she even rounds the corner, rushing to her bride's side, already bleeding hope.

The rest comes in flashes and blurs. Casimir pulls back her lips. Fangs. Her body convulses as she gasps for air. She lunges. Instinct again pushes me to act and I grab ahold of her. I speak quickly, trying to calm her, and eventually everything falls still and silent.

She is a vampire, that much I can sense, even as she explains the strange happenings that led to this revelation. And yet, something is different beyond her new condition. Now I defy instinct, I refuse to give in to the compulsion to kill her. I notice Ambassador Rayesha then for the first time, lurking in the shadows, and my conviction strengthens. This does not have to be the end. This does not mean she is no longer our Mitternacht.

I sense Casimir's concern, his fear. I try to ease him and project calm to the assembled guests. I ask the brides if they need a moment alone, and Casimir begins to protest. He, too, is following instinct, wanting to protect his Younger Sibling Eomod as any Older Sibling would. I remind him, gently, that Mitternacht is still a Companion, and still holds the Light within her. Whether he took my words to heart, or did so out of respect for his Younger, he relents. I ask the guests to depart to the courtroom and join them soon after.

The shadow-play brings tears to my eyes. All these harsh memories once again invoked, fragments of my past intermingled with the events of the evening. Again, I am made to see my loved ones die, and to return as something unnatural. I don't want to bloody my hands this time. But I could not ask anyone to do so in my stead. Would that Eld Magnil then, grant me respite from such deeds. Would that this time, the dark path was not the only one to tread.

I gaze again into the candle-light and the final act closes. Casimir, does not hesitate to reach for his bottle, and the others scurry to-and-fro for something positive to cling to. The brides return and say their vows. They are bound now, in darkness and light. And that bond will be tested. The great crucible that awaits Mitternacht, is also Eomod's now, to endure. Instinct tells me I should expect the worst.

I stand up and blow out the candle.

What use are the instincts of a lonely ol' hunter in matters of the heart, anyway?

--Lord Marduk Caradoc

Snowflakes.

Wed, 04 Mar 2009 00:00:53 GMT

The winter snow in the Wilderlands is a singular, glorious sight. Each flake seems colder, crisper, cleaner than anywhere else. Each one, an immaculate, ephemeral masterpiece.

Watching from the towering heights of my tree-top villa, it undoubtedly looks like the ashen rain of a Summer fire-storm. But here, close to the moist earth, surrounded by these wooded giants, one can appreciate the experience with every mortal sense.

I pull my coat tighter around me, but there is no need. I do not feel the cold, I feel the loneliness of the night. How long has it been since Inanna and I held each other on this very spot? How long since I've felt anything but fractured?

Too many distractions.

I would be risking my life with such distraction, had the Strigoi not already gone into hibernation. Those feral, mindless vampires of the forest, gorge themselves with the blood of animals, travelers, anything they can find to sustain themselves through the winter months. And every year, I go forth and thin their ranks.

The hunt was good this year.

Too good? Since my return I have not allowed myself a single idle moment. I have jumped head-long into everything. I cannot bare to give myself a moment to... remember. I cannot blame them. How could they know?

And there is that feeling. That creeping, ominous feeling that is prelude to the twisting of fate. The "Sight" might not be as strong as when I was Eld Magnil's conduit on Earth, but it is there, gnawing away. I sense it coming, like a dream you can't remember in the harsh light of morning. I admit, it unnerves me.

Perhaps this pause is a good thing. Perhaps I will bring Daelen and Takezu, to this spot and have them ponder the snowflakes. After all, things will not be this quiet for long. A wedding beckons (what does an usher even do?) and soon enough the Black Spiral Dancers will awaken from their slumber and need to be dealt with.

Not yet. Give me this moment. Let me find my center again. Allow the cold purifying air to fill my lungs. I may be fractured, but I am as stalwart as ever.

--Lord Marduk Caradoc

The First Page...

Tue, 03 Mar 2009 21:37:40 GMT

I am Lord Marduk Caradoc: knight, druin, and peer of Warwick.

For over a decade I have served the Sovereign and the Light, have even been Sovereign myself, and have given my life more than once for them. It is only by the grace of Eld Magnil and the abundant magicks of our world that allow me to pen these words to you now.

I am, at heart, a poet and a bard. And when I must, a warrior and hunter.

I am the last of my family, it's legacy falling to me. Born to protect my fellow man from those things that stalk the night. It didn't always have a choice in it, but I have embraced it as my calling.

Beyond that which I have shared in these words, and what is common record, I am a man of many contradictions. To many to sort through here. But I love my fellow Companions and I love this Land. There is no confusion or contradiction in that.

Here I will leave my story. Here I will speak with my inner voice. I have cheated death on two occasions, and defied it on many more. I do not dare presume I can do it again. So here, are whatever words of wisdom I have to offer. And may they continue to serve and inspire the Light, even when I have come to dust.

--Lord Marduk Caradoc

    Younger to Sir Palpatine Gantoris Bragonier
      Younger to Lady Merenia Shae Caerna
      Younger to Dame Medea Persephone Shanco McQuillion
      Younger to Dom Colin Hercule Shanco Caerna
            Younger to Lady Pandora Mianche Kylie Zandofar
      Younger to Lord Garthan Kylie Zandofar
      Younger to Dame Arianna Kylie Ia Gondol
      Younger to Sir J'mel Caradoc
                    Younger to Lord Morphael Caerna