Calistan Nightsbane
Human / Twilight Cleric / Vampire Hunter
Sitting by a fire-less campsite and mumbling prayers to the Raven Queen, the man began to drift. As he often does, he began to recall the horrible time when his town was besieged by a monstrosity so bad that no man could destroy it. A man that would collect children, young & innocent, charming them to come to him. They would come to him for days. He paid them handsomely and their families ignored the fact that their children slept all day and stayed up all night with the man and his fancy dress and expensive tastes. Then the children began disappearing, one by one. They just next came home. Then young woman, especially young virgins and pregnant women just vanished. It was only luck the man we now see, caught in his own horrible memories, happened to see the visitor embrace a young tavern girl for a long moment. He dares not move. He watched as the tavern girl fell limp in the man's arms, lifeless. The man took her in his arms and climbed up the wall like a spider and deposited her body on the roof. Twitching as his self-imposed trance deepens, the man recalled seeing her lifeless hands dangling over the side of the root and then vanish from view as her body was pulled away. He raised the alarm and then 1 day later, the town's warriors were all defeated and the only priest in town, a drunken coward who preferred the company of diseased whores over any of the gods, was in his cups and wouldn't come out of his bed chambers.
Recalling with perfect clarity Calistan Nightsbane went to the priest and tried to sober him up, did his best by slapping him around, pouring cold water down his throat and splashing hot chickaree on his face. While gathering the priest's supplies the sun fell and night had gathered. The door to the priests small cottage exploded inwards and in the door way stood the visitor, dressed in fancy clothes, lace and velvet, all dripping with fresh blood, bits of skin and hair falling in soft noises as his fell in the doorway.
"Would you like me to come in and face you priest?" the man growled.
Half drunk, the priest replied, "You come in and I'll show you the power of the Gods!" and in a flash the man was there, his two fingers on his right hand embedded in the priest's eye sockets to the second knuckle.
"You will see no more of me or any Gods, false priest. You reek of rot, decay and morale indecency. You have no connections to anything but depravity. You don't know what's pure so how can you even think about showing me any 'powers of the Gods'." he mocked.
The visitor looked over at Calistan. "And you! I was fine until you witnessed my business." he went to point at Calistan but still had the dead priest on his fingers and then realizing it, let the priest slide down the floor and off his fingers. Staring at Calistan he brings his fingers up and sucks the blood from them, immediately spitting it to the floor.
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Njord Sturla
Human / Viking / Northern Fjords
Looking overhead, a young Viking raider sees a sign that the All Father is surely watching. 2 ravens circle the sky high above. He feels the salt spray, smells the fragrant smell of land near by. He knows they will be beaching very soon, he can see it from his position at the rear of the boat. Just as they crest a wave, his oar skipping out of the water, he struggles get it back down and get a purchase so he can help propel the boat forward, he sees them. The English!
"English!!!" He and his oarmate, Bjorn, yell to their boatmates. They are running out from behind a large cleft of rock, they were hiding and waiting for the boat to get closer. But why? That's when he saw they were carrying their long bows. Not good. "Njord! We will feast on English liver and ale tonight! I will save you one or two of their women. Odin and Thor will be proud of us fo" *CRACK* and a large wooden shaft suddenly appears where Bjorn's right eye was. Bjorn's mouth continues to work as if he wanted to finish his sentence. "Bjorn! Bjorn!" Njord yells. He then turns his gaze to see arrows raining down all around. Acting quickly Njord jumps to his right and out of the boat, trying to use it for safety from the incoming rain of death.
The boat is still propelling forward with the momentum they have built up and with the surf helping now, Njord runs along the bottom of the surf, head barely above water, as he reaches the shore. Many other Viking brothers and shield maidens are with him, some floating, some running, even more slumped over the side of the boat, their life's blood painting the sea red. As one the Viking run into battle, axes, hammers and swords at the ready, gleaming edges sharpened to cut into the meat of the English.
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