The Herald

[The Storyteller]

Theme​

Somewhere on Vjun, a woman screamed. It was a wailing, blood-curdling shriek, something from the very bowels of her being; something so primeval and powerful that, if one were to hear it, they might even feel inclined to join in on the chorus. A man did so, his baritone shouts pairing with hers in a sickening, disconcerting harmony. The screams lasted for hours, well beyond how long they should have lasted from any ordinary fright. This, however, was no mere fright. No, this was something far, far more insidious than the innocent people of Vjun had ever known.

Hundreds – thousands, even – of people had gone missing from Vjun and its neighboring worlds. It started on Maridun, but that was merely a taste of what was to come; the appetizer, if one was feeling particularly… thematic. Each time, the people of these worlds justified the kidnappings and plagues with folklore and superstition. On Maridun, he was the Black Beast, for example. The farmers of that agri-world, and there were hundreds abducted, were morsels. Scraps, unfit for even a garnish, but they had proved useful in their own way. The trails from each of those impacted worlds all led here to Chateau Moreaux and its occupants cared not a whit. They knew guests would be coming, which is why they had the palace prepared. It would be hard for people to simply ignore abductions on such a scale that took only a rudimentary search to find the source.

There were many landing pads constructed in the past few months, fit to hold even the largest of freighters. After all, they needed to herd their cattle into the chateau somehow, and the master of this estate knew no better way than to have it accommodate many ships. There were no defenses around the place; it was, after all, the residence of a well-known and respected family. With these disturbing reports flooding into most known channels, the arrival of interlopers was certain. In fact, the hosts hoped that they would be joined by outsiders. The chateau was ever-so-dull sometimes.

Deep, deep beneath the imposing great hall that visitors would arrive in, a profane and foul ritual was taking place. Buried beneath those cyclopean halls above, a corrupt sorcerer would attempt to usher in an antediluvian horror the likes of which this planet has never seen. If it could come to fruition, a new era of darkness would be ushered in and the galaxy would never be the same. Overseeing this operation was a simple man dressed in simple clothes. He had no discernible accent, nor was he outstanding in any way – at least, not in any way the average person could tell. The people had taken to calling him The Herald, and he quite liked the title. He liked it so much that he had forgotten his true name in the centuries he had been alive after the fact.

There were final preparations to make, and so the man sauntered upstairs to retrieve a few things that the ritual needed. Behind him trudged his faithful servants, flesh-bonded and soul-snared to his will. They were nothing more than corrupted, botched attempts at previous rituals who served even in failure. Where many would discard these miscarriages of maleficarum, The Herald found a sort of joy in keeping them around for labor. They were foul, tormented things, and he enjoyed watching their suffering from simply being alive.

The rains were going to come soon, and that meant that outside travel was going to be difficult. The dusky planet was known for its acid rain, and its denizens knew better than to expose their bare skin against it. Often, those unfortunate enough to be caught out in the downpour sported red, blistered and peeling skin, the flesh damaged from even a brief exposure to the elements. Paint jobs were redundant, for often the gunmetal grey beneath forced its way to the top after spending time outside long enough. For the denizens of Chateau Moreaux, however, the rain was hardly a threat. In fact, it served the purposes of their new master quite well.

To those coming to visit The Herald and his bloody court at Chateau Moreaux, they would arrive at a set of towering, ornate doors that would open once knocked upon by the great brass ring in the front or by simply pushing the doors open themselves. The knocker still bore the mark of the last visitor – a severed hand, stained with blood and black ichor gripping the metal tightly. The doors would open up to a massive, vaulted hall enshrouded in darkness. By now, the screaming had lessened to nothing more than a mournful moan echoing throughout the building, its source indeterminable. The Herald needed to quiet that before any guests arrived.

Yes, some guests would do nicely to change up the scenery of this dreadful place.

Spoiler: OOC Notes

PvP between participants is prohibited - but death is enabled. Please keep in mind that since this is an event, posting time tables will be enforced. Participants will have 36 hours to post before they timeout and are skipped. Delays or lack of opposition, intentional or otherwise, will result in a higher difficulty thread.

 

[Magnus Hammerhand]

Magnus Hammerhand had always been an optimist.

It came with the territory of a gladiator, especially one who had never actually won any fights. But hey, the money was good, and the costumes - to die for. It was in the pursuit of such otherworldly delights as the fleeting fame the arena was known to bring, that Magnus had arrived here today, with his intern, Pete.

Pete was holding a camera, and a looking scared.

Magnus was holding a hammer, adorned in a sweeping black cape and pants, brushed Bantha hide boots, and nothing else.

He was not looking scared.

"Creepy mansion. Check." he sauntered toward the large doors that, at the slightest touch of his hand, opened into the vast entrance hall of the building "Camera rolling," Pete nodded at him. "Check." he smirked to himself, and puffed out his chest.

It was time to make some of that streaming money he had heard so much about.

Stepping into the hall, he through out his voice shouting "Show yourself wicked one, for it is I, Magnus Hammerhand, hero of..." he paused, forgotting the script "...Makeb, slayer of Krayt Dragons and despoiler of Banthas. Face me!" his voice echoed unsatisfactorily about the hall. Gesturing for 'Pete' to keep filming, he walked further into the mansion...

 

[Eva 'Skuld' Stark]

The castle seemed just a little bit dark. But that was nothing new. Considering the climate, Skuld Stark was hardly surprised. But with the disappearances of a few thousand people had filtered into public report, naturally, some people were drafted to check on the problem at hand.

All they needed to add to the atmosphere were some abominations and a cackling madman, and Skuld might declare that it was something out of a holovid she had seen as a small child.

It certainly was impressive. Acid rain had ceased falling, but the skies still roiled above with ominous intent.

From within the depths of the galleon, Skuld gave a savage smile.

Naturally, it had to be a trap.

She glanced sideways at Tagal, giving a raised black brow with a smile, unseen from within her helmet. "Should be interesting... what do you think? Needs a few more lurking servants, ja?"

She came fully armed this time, and as they strode through towards the door, she heard another voice booming from the darkened hall.

...Interesting. Despoiler of Banthas though? Sounded like a difficult job, to her own mind. They stank, were shaggy, and could be foul to... what in the Gods did despoil mean? It didn't sound very fun.

Well, she wasn't going to bother introducing herself. People disappeared; labeling yourself just made yourself a bigger target. She just shrugged and began to step towards the entrance, head held high.

Just in case, she kept her hand on her hip. Creepy things she could handle.

It was the living beings of the galaxy that were savage and capable of cruelty she was wary of. She was ready for a new challenge ahead.

@Nefieslab

 

[Tagal Saxon]

Tagal hated places like this on principle.

He detested the practice of the Dark Side and this place stank of it.

He detested places where things that should not be stalked around every corner and this place? This place looked to be PRIME corner stalking territory. This place was hitting all of his triggers so far and he hadn't even stepped foot inside of it yet. Some of the locals had made it worth their time... or was it the survivors of some raids on a different planet?

Tagal hadn't really paid attention and had instead just flown the ship when Skuld said that she had found something for the two of them to do that would be interesting. Interesting it would be but he wasn't going to pretend this was going to be anything even remotely close to fun.

"I think we would be better served blasting this place to the bedrock from orbit." he declared bluntly as he pushed his way into the main hall with his rifle in hand, "I think you take me to the arse-end of the Galaxy because you're convinced that nothing can ever be interesting without also being something akin to a horror vid."

He scowled from behind his helmet.

"And conan the starbarian shite-kicker?" he glanced at the other man, "If you could soak up some blaster bolts that would be great."

The hell else use was a guy using a freaking warhammer?

@Killa Ree @Nor'baal @Painus

 

[Uhtred Wardruna]

So this was Vjun... Uhtred didn't like Vjun. The rain was acidic, the locals were disturbing, and their castles, even more so.

Castles... Uhtred didn't like castles. Bulky and overbearing, oversized holds that seemed to, far more often than not, be the sites of arcane and blasphemous practices of the Dark Side of the Force. And one didn't even have to be sensitive to the Force to know this particular castle was sending all the wrong signals.

"Stupid people, stupid people always die around these things... because only stupid people go to these things", Uhtred grumbled to himself. Ever since he'd arrived, he'd been keeping a tight grip on the hilt of his axe. "What the kark am I doing here?"

Walking in through the doors, Uhtred's eyes scanned the room with the other patrons. The screams that had echoed so loudly just moments ago had stopped, albeit only to be interrupted by someone saying something about banthas. Staring in confusion about what he'd just walked into, he'd opted to simply act like he hadn't noticed and walked on in. The castle was dark, even if well-occupied, and he hadn't missed the fact that a severed, bloody hand was still hanging onto the door. All of this, there was the matter of the keeper of this place; the Herald.

...Uhtred didn't like heralds...

 

[Zarya]

"Exaltly, what are you people doing here?", she replied to the man's question, standing in the doorway of the main entrance."Vjun's a sith world, so this whole affair is Sith business."

She stared at those in the hall, three Deucalians, a cameraman and a... Mandalorian.

Seeing his armour she looked at her cybernetic arm, it's fist clenched, the moments she lost her arm replayed in her head, anger and fury swelled inside of her, she pulled the camera out of the man's hands and smashing it into a wall. "Everyone, leave, now" she snarled behind gritted teeth, her eyes glowing a bright yellow. "Execpt the Mandalorian."

She took a step in from the doorway, dropping her cloak to reveal her combat armour, her saberstaff and her other equipment. she pulled her lightsaber to her hand activating a single blade with the crossguard.

The cameraman obliged Zarya and sent himself packing, the whole horror movie vibes of this castle and a angry Sith destroying his camera was about enough for an average civilian to figuire out it was about time to GTFO. The others she didn't care about as long they stay out the way.

Spoiler: OOC Note

not attempting to pvp per rules stated, just reacting as my character on seeing a mando, when the spooky bad guys arrive she'll focus on them

 

[Eithni Vala Stark]

Eithni had never actually been to a haunted mansion before, but all the scary stories, made the young girl curious and for some reason, convinced a pilot to actually fly her to the place. She neither knew what to expect or not to expect from a haunted place.

The pilot looked from the cockpit at the huge creepy mansion in front of his ship and gave Eithni a raised eyebrow. "And you want to go in there?" He asked in disbelief. Eithni just shrugs and left the ship, pulling her hood over her head, hiding her platinum hair a bit more. The moment the young Nightsister descended the ship's ramp, the pilot took off and left Eithni on the empty platform. The pilot told Eithni, that he wouldn't wait and after actually seeing the place, he was definitely not waiting around.

The first thing that Eithni notice, was the multiple ships just sitting there, many different kinds. She made her way to the mansion, she already heard voices behind the towering ornate doors. The voices only got louder as she neared the door and opened it. For a haunted house, there were really many people...

Eithni wore the same ragged clothes she always had on, though no warpaint on her face. As soon as she entered the massive, vaulted hall, the darkness that enshrouded the hall, was lit up by one of those lightblady thingies all the Sith run around using, noted Eithni. Eithni looked around the place, it was crazy big, who would even want to live in a place like this? She wouldn't, way too much room and no nature. The creepy moans creeping from the mansion's interior was definitely a no-no in her mind as it creeped her out a bit.

 

[The Storyteller]

The guests had arrived.

One by one, the foolish and the foolhardy crossed the threshold into darkness, unaware of that which lurked beyond. Like so many before them, they knew not what they did, nor would they realize it until it was far, far too late. Deucalian, Sith, Mandalorian, witch – it did not matter. All held the same value to the master of this accursed estate and his profane rites. With the six having entered the building fully for their own reasons – whether it be hubris, curiosity, greed, or some other carnal desire – the great doors slammed shut behind them. With a great shudder and clank, the heavy bolts of that portcullis to damnation sealed itself shut – and its visitors inside.

The poor cameraman was caught outside just as the acid rain picked up. Above him, storm clouds roiled and thundered violently, signaling one of the worst storms to date. It started off slowly at first; a few drops, nothing more, that landed on Pete’s bare skin and burned it lightly. The man recoiled in surprise at the sudden sting and looked towards the castle he was so rudely forced out of. More drops came and splattered against his clothing, against his pale and supple flesh. What were a few stings soon became a hail of needles, and then a tidal wave of torment as the rain increased in power. Second by second, the poor, innocent cameraman Pete was being burned alive by acid rain. His skin scalded and blistered, turning blood red as he hammered his fists futilely against the locked door. His screams lasted for ten, maybe fifteen seconds once the storm had truly picked up, but they, too, died out and became nothing more than pitiful wails. His hammering became less intense and soon he fell to the ground before the door, hand desperately clutching at the brass knocker that was just out of reach. His flesh sizzled and bubbled, and his clothing fused to his skin, but by then, Pete the cameraman was nothing more than a melting corpse.

Within the confines of Chateau Malreaux, the first thing that the newcomers would notice – or fail to notice – would be that their footing was unsteady and sticky. While they quarreled, challenged, and mused, the sconces along the massive support pillars burst alight with flame, scattering the darkness and ushering in the light. Though dim, any lighting was better than none, and it would allow these outsiders to see what surrounded them.

The ground beneath them was slick with a crimson ichor staining the cobblestone and fine rugs. Even despite its age – for it was quite old – it remained fresh and wet, a testament to the corruption suffusing the entire estate. The source of the blood was near, should the newcomers inspect the trails of it leading away from the door. Along several columns, human bodies were pinned against the stone by great nails, their skin carved apart and off, displaying the flesh and bone beneath. Their faces were frozen in expressions of agonized screaming that nobody had heard. Several appeared to be rotting already, for a hive of maggots had begun to nest within their bodies and were eating away at the putrid flesh that comprised their homes. Perhaps the most peculiar part of the entire scene, though, were their eyes.

For every corpse was staring directly at the newcomers.

From a side passage hobbled a grotesque being. Its skin was fused together in places it should not be and cancerous growths sprouted from it like great boils. Its glassy eyes drooped lazily below its mismatched face but remained focused on the guests as it limped towards them. One of its hands was melded with the rest of its abdomen and the other sported an odd number of taloned fingers. It wore frayed, tattered rags that betrayed its age. It stood a few meters from the six guests and inhaled agonizingly slowly, the noise sounding like a damaged vacuum – or a dying creature.

”The H-Herald…” it wheezed painfully, its eyes looking independently at two different guests simultaneously, ”Invitesssss… the guessstsss… to d-dinner.” With that said, it turned, its bones cracking and flesh tearing with each tortured movement, and began to lead the way towards the dining chamber.

The Herald sat at the end of a great table, perhaps thirty meters in length, and idly drummed his fingers atop the human skull in his lap. He awaited his visitors, for he had prepared a fantastic feast for them. When the guests entered – if they accepted his offer – they would be greeted with another gruesome scene. In each seat of the table was a body of varying age and damage numbering perhaps twenty, if not more. Some had their hands nailed to the table by cutlery, while others simply sat limp in their chairs, heads drooped and lolling to a side. Men, women, children – all were present at this bloody feast. On the table was a great porcine creature that, at one point, might have been a delicacy. Now, it sat in the center rotting, its flesh eaten away by maggots and flies. The smell was overbearing and the shadow of death permeated this entire room.

The Herald continued to drum along the skull, his lips curling into a gentle smile.

Spoiler: OOC Notes

THIS THREAD IS NOW CLOSED AAAAA

@Nor'baal @Killa Ree @Nefieslab @Korvo @christhebarker @Raven_41

 

[Tagal Saxon]

So.

Many.

Questions.

Who the hell was this Sith shite who was calling him out? Did he know her? Should he actually try and fight her now considering their situation?

When had Uthred gotten here?

Why the hell was there a Dathomiri witch here?

And, more pressing questions, such as;

WHY WERE THERE CRUCIFIED CORPSES ON THE WALLS?!

WHY WAS THERE A LAYER OF BLOOD ON THE FLOOR THICK ENOUGH TO PASS FOR SHAG CARPETING?!

AND WHAT, IN THE NAME OF EVERY GOD TO HAVE EVER THOUGHT TO HAVE EXISTED, THE HELL WAS THE THING THAT HAD... INVITED THEM TO FREAKING DINNER?!

Tagal was confused and he was unhappy with the general state of affairs it was safe to say. He slowly lowered his rifle from it's aimed position before looking around the assembled group. Well if they were all so dead set on playing their roles as part of a freaking horror vid then who was he to stop them?

"... it's rude to turn down an invitation to dinner." he remarked bluntly before leading the way after the twisted... thing that had bade them to follow, "And we might get answers if we continue."

Reaching the dining area... Tagal regretted no longer having filters in his helmet it had to be said. Coughing a little bit against the aggressively terrible smell, he did his level best to ignore the 'guests' at the feast table to address the only 'normal' person in the entire castle/manor so far.

"Are you the one this... manservant... called the Herald?"

@Killa Ree @Nor'baal @Painus @christhebarker @Korvo @Raven_41

 

[Eva 'Skuld' Stark]

Yeah...

When she was promised an interesting adventure from secondhand ears, she should have checked first. But Tagal was correct... however the Sith witch that tried ordering her around was already labeled on her list to have a massive ax buried in her back if she kept up that salty tongue.

Kark, she hated those Force-using witches. All salt, hardly any strength. She stepped in next to Tagal, her voice low and harsh from her helmet.

"Keep your slimy hands off him, little girl," she hissed, icy eyes narrowing at the Sith. If she dared tried to touch him, she would ravage this woman to mere kindling with her own karking light sword.

Not going to lie, she was severely tempted to let this witch woman have the castle all to herself and take Tagal with her back to the ship... when the acid rain began. And the poor photographer was caught in the storm.

...But even by her standards, it was somewhat like being caught in a holovid. And not necessarily in the best sense. Creepy corpses? Check. Creepier abomination? Check.

...Spooky dinner?

It was seeing children that made her pause.

Suck in a deep breath.

And clench her jaw.

"...I'm sorry," she murmured low to Tagal before taking her usual place beside him, also regretting being able to smell... all of it.

She only then realized their company. She knew them both. Eithni and Uhtred.

...Kark. It was only the third Deuc, and the sharp-tongued wench she had no idea about, and really cared little. She wasn't fond of the décor, either, but... she had a gut feeling this night was going to end on an interesting note.

One way or the other.

@Nefieslab @Nor'baal @Painus s @christhebarker @Korvo @Raven_41

​

 

[Magnus Hammerhand]

"God-damnit Pete! Get back here!" Magnus shouted at the slowly dissolving pool of intern through the crack in the front door. "You ain't getting paid for this." he snarled, slamming the door and shaking his head. "Just cannot get the staff these days." he walked through the murky room and over to the table, ignoring the macarbe offerings on display. Wandering up to 'The Herald', he slapped the the thing on the back, and shouted "Great place you have here, not sure about the decore - but you know, each to their own."

With that, he leaned on a nearby wall, ignoring the blooding seeping down it, and rested his hand on his hammer. "So, he looked around the room and unhitched the hammer "...I'm not a fan of the whole, mystery castle filled with corpses vibe." he wandered around behind the Heralds chair "...just not feelin' it you know?" and slammed his hammer into the top of the Heralds head.

Should his execution have worked, he looked around to his erstwhile compatriots and said bluntly "Well, we all knew where this was heading. Weapons out, pew pews shootin' and let's get this over with." he climbed on the table, for a better vantage point, and waiting for whatever was coming.

 

[Eithni Vala Stark]

The sudden loud "bang" sound from the great doors when they slammed shut behind Eithni, made her released a loud shriek and jumped a little. Eithni gaped a bit as she stared in fascination on all the blood and macabre around them all. She quickly made it over to the only person she knew, Skuld, as the woman made her relax a bit more. Eithni was a bit odd girl as what others might see as macabre, she found fascinating, or horrific things made her curious. It, of course, was due to being raised as a Dathomiri that she was very familiar with using magick and death.

Eithni looked up at Skuld with her hands folded together behind her back and smiled sweetly, "Hi!" greeted Eithni, the most awesome and cool person she knew. Her joyous mood when greeting Skuld did not match the setting or her ragged look. The large loud man hammering on the door, yelling at the dead boy outside, made Eithni look from Skuld and follow Magnus with her eyes. He seemed very obnoxious, and then there was the red-skinned angry Sith who just felt like a mean lady. Eithni's eyes felt on the man who was a Mandalorian, he did not like the situation... And then the last one, he reminded her a bit about Skuld, the same kind of warrior filled eyes.

Eithni's eyes got big when another set of doors open and a monstrosity of a man appeared in front of them all. It was not Darthomiri ichor magick, so much knew Eithni, this looked like a much more gruesome operation of some kind. His eyes, however, freaked Eithni out a bit. The young Nightsister looked up at Skuld, almost as in, "should we go?" Kind of questioning look.

@Killa Ree @Nor'baal @Painus @christhebarker @Korvo @Nefieslab

 

[Uhtred Wardruna]

When faced with the absurd, some people clamored. Some people retreated. Others still wracked their brain to make rational the irrational. Uhtred, though, he simply stared in perplexed disbelief, wondering to himself what the living kark is happening?

A sassy Sith barking orders at everyone, whom he didn't even bother to acknowledge, blood stains, flayed corpses, all the while the acidic raid was literally dissolving a poor bastard outside. Uhtred has had hallucinatory mushrooms that gave him more plausible scenarios.

Uhtred recognized more people now; there was Skuld Stark and Tagal Saxon, and while he didn't know the identity of the... 'performer', his weapon suggested he was a fellow Deucalian.

"Assuming we-are not 'dinner', yes?", Uhtred asked cynically, albeit not seriously. At least, not at first.

As the group was led to a dining area, Uhtred stared in disgust of the so-called banquet that had been prepared for them. It was grotesque in all the wrong ways... were there right ways?

"I've seen some karked up osik-before, but this...", Uhtred said, his sneering at the display interrupted by Magnus' actions, who seemed to think things were about to descend into a shootout of one sort or another. "...what in death's name is all this?"

@Painus @Nefieslab @christhebarker @Killa Ree @Nor'baal @Raven_41

 

[Zarya]

Zarya's eyes were purely focused on the Mandalorian, not flinching at the closure of the door behind her nor noticing the decor that was pinned to pillars until the female Deucalian spoke in reply to Zarya. Immediately her eyes switch to the women, she was protective of this Mandalorian so at very least they were friends, some she would keep in mind.

so it was a 2v1, the odds were stacked againest her but she still wanted the Mandalorian dead. she shifted her feet to gain a more stable footing only to find that there was a slight stickiness to them breaking her focus on the mando and Deucalian, looking to investigate what was causing it she saw the red ichor that covered ground.

"What the..." she whispered to herself as began to take in her surrounding in full, seeing bodies strew across the pillars, she had seen cruel sith do horrible things but this, this was something entirely different, a whole new level of malevolence she hadn't seen before she turned off her lightsaber, her new focus was killing who or whatever was behind this, the Mandalorian could wait.

Then came the creature, she stared at, she knew exactly what it was a dark side abomination and grotesque one that, It was like the ones used by exiles during the years of darkness that she had read about, they were little more than cannon fodder during that time, it couldn't possibly be a surviving one from then most were killed on ilium or went rabid there, whoever was commanding that things were a dark side user and powerful one at aswell, she would have to play things cautiously until she knew the extent of power it held.

"A Mandalorian with manners, how quaint." she spoke, her voice thick with sarcasm, her eyes like daggers on him. She followed after the creature after it gave its master message. Staying behind the Mandalorian and his female companion.

she stood at the end of the dining table, looking at the man. This 'Herald' looked human but Zarya new looks can be deceiving epically when the force is involved, he certainly seemed confident or at least he was pleased with himself with that smile he had his face. whatever was going to happen tonight it wasn't going to be pleasant for anyone involved, she could feel it.

she watched the man, Mangus, approach him, she had worked with him before so she thought of warning not to do whatever he was planning to do but if she let do it she might learn something about the Herald with his reaction, Mangus may die because of it but it's was a Sacrifice she is willing to make.

@Painus @Nor'baal @Killa Ree @Nefieslab @Korvo @Raven_41

 

[The Storyteller]

The Herald waited and waited at the end of that grisly dining table, listening in on the confusions and bickering of his guests. The miserable wretch which extended the invitation to dine hobbled through the doorway second, trailing behind the foolhardy man wielding a hammer. Every group of adventurous vagrants needed a man stupid enough to put the rest of the group at risk, and it appeared that all clichés about this one were true; large hammer, oblivious nature, irritating demeanor – The Herald found little amusement in this man and his little games. He set the skull on the table gently, not once taking his eyes off of the Deucalian marching towards him with murderous intent.

With only the slightest of movements from the man at the end of the thirty-meter-long table, Magnus would be lifted off of his feet by an invisible, malicious power and slammed head first into the wooden table hard enough to crack the bones in his face with a sickening crunch. The noise, for the slam would surely rattle the plates and cutlery, awoke the things not quite dead in their chairs. Though horribly mutilated and tortured, the people at this macabre and bloody feast were kept alive by ancient and twisted magic, and their slumber was simply a result of inactivity. Finally spurred to life by this intrusion, the ghastly things began to weep and moan, their voices long since lost from abuse. While Magnus was pinned to the table, the men to either flank of the Deucalian awoke with a start, blood seeping out of their eye sockets as they desperately gripped the knives and forks in front of them.

With jerking, unnatural motions, the half-dead dinner guests beside Magnus slammed their cutlery into the flesh of the intruder, who was kept pinned to the table by the unnatural might of The Herald, who coiled the Force around his other hand, prepared to dole out additional punishment or defend himself. Once, twice, thrice they stabbed into the supple and warm flesh of his neck and head, digging deep into the veins and arteries, all the while screaming and moaning in tortured pain of their own. All around the dinner table, half-dead nobles of all ages writhed in their chairs and banged against the furniture in a cacophony of chaos. After stabbing into Magnus several times, the corpse-men would leave the cutlery inside him and turn their gaping maws towards the newcomers in unsettling unison with the other dinner guests, their screams dying out and giving way to uncomfortable silence.

Should Magnus have somehow survived the mutilation, The Herald would simply flick his hand upward and snap Magnus’ head backwards well over ninety degrees to emphasize the point. He had made it perhaps ten meters towards his target.

Not once throughout the horrifying ordeal did The Herald smile, and that was a dangerous turn of events if the other newcomers were anything like their sacrificial lamb. He slowly panned his gaze towards the rest of the group, looking at the Mandalorian first. ”A man it is no longer, though serve it does. Do not pretend it is anything more than a horrid wretch,” he replied in answer to his question. His voice was measured and even, a mellifluous tenor that seemed to contradict the sinister aura he radiated. ”Aye, I am The Herald,” he continued, ”And your friend has ruined what would have otherwise been an enjoyable meeting. Minds are easy to read, you know. I can taste the fear you all hold.” He raised his hands and gestured to a set of empty chairs near Magnus’ corpse, a smile creeping back on his face once again, ”Sit,” he commanded, though it came quite politely, ”And we will talk.”

For the Force-sensitive in the room, The Herald radiated a level of chaotic power matched by only a few in the galaxy, though his was far more insidious. Even now he drew the Force in towards himself idly, his eyes scanning the faces of the remaining guests and his mind sifting through their surface thoughts and emotions. For those without the gift of the Force, he was simply an ordinary-looking man with extraordinary power.

Elsewhere in the castle, something screamed, but it was no noise any normal being could make in a rational galaxy.

Rationality, however, had long since fled Chateau Malreaux.

@Nefieslab @Killa Ree @Nor'baal @Raven_41 @Korvo @christhebarker

 

[Eva 'Skuld' Stark]

What the.

What in the name of all Gods had just happened?

So all these people... they were not dead. Not exactly. Some sort of witch's trick? She glanced sideways at the only actual witch present... and a prickle of awareness shivered down her spine. She had seen things like this in a holovid before. To not dine when invited was rude... and one of the two unknown members in their midst seemed effectively eliminated in such a regard she had to then glance at the being that called himself... itself... the Herald.

Stranger things, she had witnessed in the galaxy. But an aberration like this seemed odd in the extreme.

...It would be rude to not sit, but she could do without mutilated bodies gaping at her openly like she was on the menu.

She strongly doubted talk was the only thing for this dinner date. If, and only if, the rest of them would sit, so would she, no easy feat to do when fully armed and armored.

And even more difficult with all the smells wafting in her direction.

She gave a sideways glance again to Tagal; there was plenty of open space between living corpses, but it still didn't ease the questions that stirred in her mind.

No, the Herald never suffered any to live it seemed like, if they interfered with their plans.

At the moment, she wasn't the keenest to find out what precisely those were.

It was only then she realized that Eithni was in their midst; and a frission of horror and shock clicked into place. She was just a little girl-woman; what would a witch like her, sweet and innocent as she was, be doing in a place like this? She only nodded numbly at the girl, then glanced back at her companion.

She might not even be one of those witches with the magics and the light or dark... but even she had a terrible feeling in this place. And it had nothing to do with the interior decoration.

@Painus @christhebarker @Raven_41 @Korvo @Nefieslab

 

[Tagal Saxon]

...

Well that guy was dead.

Well nothing of value was lost but Tagal was beginning to wish he had never shown up. He raised an eyebrow underneath his helmet even as he sat down at the table. One of the undead creatures looked at him but Tagal just stared it down for a moment.

He was considering stabbing the thing when it looked away and just moaned something he couldn't understand. Frowning, he looked to the herald.

His rifle was resting atop the table but still in hand.

"So what do you actually want, Herald? The people of here and... other planets... they seem to think you're a menace. A beast." He tilted his head to the side slightly, "Any idea why?"

@Killa Ree @Nor'baal @Painus @christhebarker @Korvo @Raven_41

 

[Eithni Vala Stark]

Eithni had followed Skuld, as she made Eithni feel a bit braver and safe. The young witch smiled sheepishly to Skuld as they entered the room, though the moment that Magnus guy got gutted by what had appeared to be flayed corpses, awoke, made Eithni curious. She might be the only one among everyone, who found the corpses interesting, due to her Dathomirian upbringing. She sat down beside Skuld, or in the chair closest to the Deucalian as possible while examining the corpses from her seat.

She wondered how they were kept alive, what kind of magick The Herald used to keep them from the spirit realm. She really wanted to ask The Herald, but he creeped her out a bit, she wasn't sure what it was, but the way he just made the loud man die within seconds, made her uneasy. Eithni decided to focus on the dead corpses, which might make her look a bit unsettling, as the corpses didn't really scare her.

Someday Eithni would learn how to raise the dead, her mother knew how but had said it was only the strongest and most experienced witches that could do it. It had made her a bit disappointed and vowed to get stronger and better, so she too, could learn the power of raising the dead! Eithni looked over to The Herald and really wanted to ask him about the corpses, but was a bit scared to ask him as he seemed more than cable of killing whoever he wanted... and she didn't want to die. Eithni decided to just keep her question to herself, as she didn't want to freak out Skuld.

@Nefieslab @Killa Ree @Nor'baal @Painus @Korvo @christhebarker

 

[Magnus Hammerhand]

Magnus realised his mistake a little to late, and as his bones smattered into tiny pieces, he said nothing, felt little, and thought even less.

Magnus died as he had lived.

Dissappointingly.

 

[Zarya]

So it happened, Magnus was dead, though he didn't completely die in vain he gave them some measure information on the powers this 'man' possed and getting to admit he was reading their thoughts as such Zarya shielded her mind againest him, she knew it wouldn't hold againest a direct attack from the Herald but it was better than letting him have free access to her mind.

"I would prefer to stand" she spoke her words thick with disgust and contempt towards the Herald, as she stood at the end of the table, staring at the man silently, she didn't wish to understand The Herald like others.

The Herald was simply and purely evil she could feel it to her core and as one of her instructors as a child told her 'A warrior does not seek to understand evil or to compromise with evil. He seeks only to obliterate it.' and that's what she would do if given the chance but for now she had to wait until the others came to this conclusion also.

@Painus @Killa Ree @Nefieslab @Korvo @Raven_41