"Yes….Yes….", a frigid air hissed within the church.
It was dark, the lanterns outside giving no more than a few inches of light. Not even their anointed weapons offered much, and it was almost difficult to see beyond the blinding blessing.
The Dark Lord was taunting them, he knew it, looking at those bastard windows.
'Easy,' he told himself.
The voice believed otherwise, speaking into the husk his soul should've been.
"Think again, poor lifeless one. It's not so easy to walk the shadow of the lord, when one has little to offer for eternal life…"
"Enough with the riddles," Arthur said, raising his ignited spear. "Reveal yourself, and fight for your black god!"
Torches span ablaze, along the walls of the church.
They didn't flinch, though the doors to the church slammed shut.
Along each wall were, white as the First Sword's throne room, there decorations of sorts. Crowns of fallen kings, skulls of long forgotten beasts, and a painting on either side of Quarrath herself. Both were as though she were human, not a fang, nor claw, and she wore a silk black dress trimmed with a white cloak, clasped by Cerebus' star.
Benches lined the church on either side, a black velvet carpet beneath the party's feet, leading to the altar itself.
An old shadow leaking fountain, much like the one of the four sworded knight.
From the shadows came the paladin's voice, ever-growing, powerful enough to shake the walls.
"You were doomed the moment you set foot in the Graves," the dark priest growled. "You, ye' of no soul, and a love for the fallen lord!"
From the shadows rose the vampyre, high as the statue of Drav.
Garbed in long black robes, thick as a normal man's mail would be, the priest wore nothing beneath it. Just pale skin, yet muscled like a bull, centuries of feeding from poor folk forced to rejuvenate their blood.
Cramped as it was to face him inside, yet he lashed his flail forward.
Smiling, the vampyre slid away, dispersing into blackness, and his flail bounced off a wall.
It reappeared, and Al loosed an arrow, then it burst into smoke once more.
"What will you do, soulless vermin!" The vampyre hissed, torches blowing out. "I am one who has danced with angels!"
Fiery white eyes, bright as their weapons, flickered.
Blades, how many he couldn't tell, slammed against his breastplate. He tucked himself behind his shield and shoved forward, but stayed close to everyone.
The vampyre snarled, its eyes fading black. "Very good, you've the armor old, though I wonder how well your allies will fare!"
In near silent darkness he caught his breath.
Dany was on one side of him, Arthur on the other, and Al was in the middle, scimitar drawn.
The spearman thrusted, light roaring on the mithril tip. A long graze on the vampyre's belly, black blood running free, and it roared.
Torches ignited.
The vampyre, a hand over its belly, leaned over the altar. It spat, blood creeping between its fingers, scowling them with flickering eyes.
He span his flail, bashed the vampyre into the back wall, then it burst into black smoke. Torches blew away, and it was dark, yet the air felt thicker.
In old elvish, the vampyre cursed their names.
"Impudent swine! You dare lay a hand on the Cerebus' chosen speaker!"
There was a beast, growls instead of cursing and spit.
What sounded like wings opened, and two pairs of eyes opened, both red, one on top of the other. Walls trembled, windows shattered, and the church's door flung open.
"Outside!" Dany shouted. "Hur-."
The roof erupted in black fiery explosions.
Fire, so black yet bright as their own weapons, razed on all sides of the church. Walls crumbled, the fountain burst into dust, and the priest's robes were a sway of dark cinders.
It was taller than before, dark greatswords in both its hands, and a crown of horns sat atop its head. Its fangs were beneath its chin, its skin was more dark than pale. Long black hair flowed down to its waist, smokey as its cursed robes.
Al loosed.
He stayed close in front, spinning his flail above.
Arthur and Dany broke off, sprinting faster than any steed.
The vampyre swung, fire lashing from the ends of its blades, missing the spearman by inches. Dany parried with her greatsword, then leaped swinging at its belly. She was met by both blades, parried one, but was cut across the belly by the other. Over the wall she sailed, rolling to recover on her feet with a hand over her stomach.
Al's arrows landed, but the vampyre's robes covered itself. She kept loosing, only managing to keep it on its toes.
Arthur was swatted away, and the vampyre soared his way.
"Dammit!" Al cursed.
They ran over the shattered walls, but it was too late.
Arthur on the ends of the vampyre's blades, lifted overhead, light on his spear going out.
Light shined, William's hands raised, the young father chanting in the old tongue.
The vampyre hissed, then whined, letting go of Arthur.
When the spearman hit the ground, blood burst from his mouth, his heart completely carved out on the vampyre's blades.
The vampyre itself wailed, blinded by William's ongoing commands.
"Return to the shadows, creature of the Fallen Lord!"
The vampyre howled, "It's you lot who serve the Fallen! I am a servant of true pow-."
He swung his flail, knocking the vampyre clean off its feet.
While it was down, Al hurried to Arthur's spear, scooping it up as the vampyre squirmed. It rose again, wings spread, and before she could leap, spear in hand, it leaped into the sky.
It couldn't fly for long, though it circled them, its blades ignited in roaring black-fire.
"Get behind me!" He shouted, rushing to Larosa and William.
He covered the lass and young father, and a hurrying Al.
She got behind him in time, though Dany was still too far. Fire shook the sky, the vampyre slamming into the ground. All round itself in all directions, flames raced like rapid thunder, stumbling him back a bit.
Though his ironite held firm, he was getting hot, especially his shield arm.
Peaking above his shield, he saw the vampyre to be breathing hard.
Al took her shots, loosing right between its breasts. Though her arrows were no longer ignited.
His flail, hammer and sword, all were without light.
Dany was scorched, skin charred on half her face. She appeared as a walking corpse, but ran with a limp past them. He joined her, swinging his flail to the left. She kept going forward, and as the vampyre dove to avoid the spiked head, she burst out fast as she could.
Right between through the vampyre's eyes, she drove her greatword. She twisted, spitting in its face as it wailed. William raised a palm, the young father exhausted with a rapid beating heart.
He rained down his flail, slamming the vampyres skull to pieces.
Yet it even as it twitched and squirmed, blood was still flowing in its veins. Al, spear in hand, took to its breast, staked it, then bright fire engulfed them all.
They stood firm, yet the vampyre cursed, damning them all the death god's doorstep.
"You will never know peace! Curse you filthy fucking dogs! Curse you, Lord of the Fallen…"
White smoke towered to the sky.
The remains of the church crumbled to ash, and only the fountain remained.
Larosa cursed.
She was burnt, all along her right forearm. William helped her to the fountain, the young father without a scratch.
With Al, he and Dany gathered Arthur's remains, and kept them outside the rubble of the church. Al thrusted his spear into the ground, promising to thank him by morning.
At least she had hoped.
William was silent, tending to Larosa for the better part of the evening.
At dawn they waited, yet Arthur's spear remained. The spearman himself didn't arrive, and the three warriors left didn't want to believe it, but there was no choice.
That dark priest, chosen by the gods, wielded weapons built for slaying their kind.
Soulless kind, and Arthur wasn't to reawaken in the mainlands for some time.
Dany wept, cursing to herself. Al kept a hand on her, promising Arthur would find a way back.
He knew what it meant.
There was little hope for a safe return from this place, a land of the dark god's chosen soulless killing reapers.