The Dark Pentagram

[Zachariah Darmok]

The night had closed in quickly this eve,perhaps the woods knew who traveled in its bowels,no animal moved, no wind blew,the forest stood perfectly still. The rain was light and a small mist was forming around, it was a perfect night to meet. Whoever the figure was he moved in secrecy,his cloak covered his head and his feet was not visible, if any man saw him he looked like he was floating rather than walking, like a solid ghost.

The cottage, it was more eerie than the figure himself, It was an oldcorroked thing standing on its last leg of timber it looked awful, no wonder the village a few miles away feared these woods, they said it was haunted that a ghost or witch lived in these parts and killed whoever entered and there bodies never seen again...how right they were. The cottage had candles on the porch, lanterns in the grass around, the stench of death hung in the air it was his home alright, it had to be. The figure made no sound as he climbed the steps to the front door of the cottage, the only sight inside the curtain less building was yet more glowing candles and lamps and a pentagram of white chalk sketched perfectly within the candels.

The cloaked figure quickly rapped on the door to be answered, the creature inside whatever or whom it was,must be thinking who dared to disturb his ceremonies.......Zachariah never said a word.

[Warlock]

The gnarled wood that made the far from grandiose door rattled as it did so often when the wind picked up in the shadowy forests. By and large the inhabitant was fairly unaware of such noises, due to his concentration and focus of mind being highly fixed upon rites and the like; rites which required absorption of the highest degree. This day he stood, clad in robes and all, over a five-pointed star which had been scarred onto the uncovered wooden floor, on a spot where the carpet had been pulled away. The chalked symbol was accentuated with a fine powder of crimson and some form of ash which had been strewn about the ellipse that encircled the shape.

The dark shape took a step to the side, and motioned a hand towards the candles. The gesture appeared to show annoyance and a hurried attempt to quell the flames resulted in all but one dying away. Deciding against becoming flustered on the matter, the form turned and moved – though not so soundlessly as its guest, as heavy boots beat against the strained wooden floor in tempered pace. A moment of silence reigned, before a wily voice cut the air.

"You dare intrude upon my sanctuary? Can I not mourn in peace? Leave… leave and let my solitude be complete."

[Zachariah Darmok]

'Your lack of memory is disturbing Warlock..surely you would know your a voice of a Coven Brother?...let me in so i don't have to discuss our business in the presence of this listening woods.' He snapped through the wooded door.

[Warlock]

"I’m afraid in my old age my memory has become erratic, Brother."

In the upper portion of the door, a small slat slid away from the wood work, revealing a looking hole. For a moment it remained dark, though within a few seconds a pair of waxen eyes shifted into view, wreathed by wrinkled and somewhat yellowing skin.

"That hood of yours shrouds you well. Cast it away, and let me see your true visage."

[Zachariah Darmok]

Zachariah hesitated for a few moments, it had been a long time since his robes had exposed his true identity, but for his colliege he would. A long, pale spindily hand withdrew from the confines if the cloak and took hold of the hood, pulling it back slowly his face was revealed. His skin was as pale as pale could be,his shaoulder lengh black greasy hair was thrown all over his face as the hood withdrew showing little of his features only that he looked troubled and weather beaten. ' It is i...Zachariah'.

His dark blue glowing orbs for eyes surelyproved to the man who he was, not only that but he carried the staff with him that alone was proof of the pudding. ' Now let me in..we have something to discuss.'

[Warlock]

No word of explanation was given as the hole was once again covered, though intention was revealed as the sound of a latch behind slid away could be heard. Following this was the sound of a key turning and for some unexplainable reason a flash of light spread out from the gap beneath the door and step. The door then opened and in the space between the visitor and the room within stood the one known only as Warlock. Attired as ever in his custom tailored-cobalt robes, with their gold trim and intricate trappings and ruins on the cuff and hood edges.

"Why do you trouble me? Did I not make it clear on my departure from the brotherhood that I wished to never be visited by a member of the Subryn… ever again."

[Zachariah Darmok]

The flash of light was recognized almost immediatly as a threshhold barrier, Warlock was protecting himself form something, not many spells like that were used today. ' The Coven is regrouping Warlock...even Surpanakha isjoining with us once more, the rest i could not find but im sure we could if we searched...you are required to join us once more...' Zachariah said quietly. 'May i ask why you put a threshold spell on your door...is somone trying to hurt you?'

[Warlock]

The cane he held, known as the Epoch Staff, hummed with a vibrant energy, the colour of ocatrine; that only warlocks and witches could see. He offered Zachariah a glance of mistrust, though was intrigued at the mention of the reformation of the Coven, along with the return of Surpanakha, whom he recalled vaguely.

"My interested is piqued, though I will not be forced into this bind again. My previous departure was on the grounds of iniquitous regulations enforced upon me – I cannot tolerate the same happening again."

With a somewhat devious smirk, he continued.

"As for this spell, it is mere precaution. My studies are my own and should not be touched by the eyes of others… especially those who venture out here in hope of chancing upon some witch or ghoul," he sneered, his last words almost spat out.

[Zachariah Darmok]

'You left to venture on your own Warlock...the cold winter air does not lie' Darmok hissed flicking his black hair fromhis eyes. ' You knew this time would come somtime...surely youmust of predicted it?'

[Warlock]

"Aye, I have foreseen it," he declared, almost solemnly, "though I did not imagine it would be so soon."

Turning from his former comrade, he began to pace back into his home, one hand drawing the hem of his cloak more closely in around his body.

"Many things I have envisaged have not yet transpired, and thus your appearance here is notably unexpected, albeit welcome. I confess I do grieve for the days when we performed as a unit, and would be interested to see how we faired in these modern times."

[Zachariah Darmok]

'What happend to your plans Warlock, it seems by the look of your home you have been here some time and have not done what you had dreamed to do.' Zachariah said with a quiet purr as if in thought.

The place looked rank and worn, deffernetly long time lived in. ' You look worn too Warlock...' He said in a quiet tone.

[Surpanakha]

Garnet eyes peered down from the highest branches of the dark woods, following every minuscule movement of the cloaked one, Darmok. The news of his return had been regarded by the demon with much skepticism but now, as the curse on the decrepit hut was revoked, it left little doubt in her mind. Its inhabitant was perpetually wary of all who dared seek passage into his home and would not undo such precautions without reason. Yes, the Warlock too was alive.

The trees, shadowing over the cottage in quiet reverence, made no sound as Surpanakha climbed to the forest floor with serpentine fluidity. The brushwood crackled somewhat under her bare feet but other than that, her entrance was conducted in perfect silence. She crawled on all fours towards the doorway, kept slightly ajar since Darmok's arrival, and sniffed. The air smelt... deferential. Something truly great was written in their destinies for this night.

Sacrilegious! The emblem of the damned had been engraved on the ground of the Warlock's home; a similar symbol was carved into her back, the scapegoat suspended within the ellipse. Edging over the threshold, she ignored the others present and knelt before the point of the inverted pentagram facing the door. Her eyes snapped closed and she muttered softly under her dank breath, as if in prayer.

"Goat of a thousand young
Goat of Mendes divine
Under the sigil of bephomet
we pray of thee, we invoke thee
I orate with due clarity
our brutal philosophy
Curse the right of the altar
and drink of the chalice of ecstasy
Satan..."

Rising, she turned to Darmok and the Warlock. Surpanakha was but a lowly Rakshasi: a species of infernal, shape-shifting demon designed to serve creatures of superior orders, and with no knowledge of those who roamed the Middle Realms. But the sorcerer, Livyatan... he had once served the Subryn Coven, and it was his spirit who now spoke through its female host body.

"It has been too long, my Brothers," spoke a hoarse, grating voice.

<p align="center">http://sylntknyte.clanpages.com/livyatan.jpg</p>

[Warlock]

"Without the tomes of the Coven I have little material at hand to conduct my research from. Trial and error has become a process I have familiarised myself with, perhaps all too well. The paranoia of the elders cursed me; my endeavours are fruitless as I continue to age, the secret I strive for still eluding me…"

Her sharp tone faded as he watched a shadow weave its way past him, catching the edge of his robes as it scuttled over the hard wood floor. A murmur of a voice was heard, before something coursed upwards through the pentagram. Bringing the Epoch staff over his body in a stern guard, he caused the orb which rested upon its end to illuminate, revealing the second visitor.

"...Livyatan?"

Tone almost strained and in disbelief, a momentary glance to Darmok was afforded as if expectant of some explanation.

"What a joyous reunion we have here," he added in a quiet tone, voice laced with sarcasm.

[Zachariah Darmok]

'I knew you was watching, Livyatan' He said quietly lighting a larger candle to brighten the room to a low gloom. ' It seems our other brothers have passed on to our god over the last few centuries..it seems as if we need to find others with our traits and bring them into the Coven...' He continued with a growl.

Darmok turned to Warlock and a unimpressed look, above all anything Zachariah hated sarcasm but he would stick it out under the circumstances. 'It is time gentleman...time to bring back the world as we once knew it. To reinstate order and terror into the heart of the galaxy..and to taist blood once more!' He sang in a loud growl.

' And this time...'He continued 'Who is there to stop us?' A grin spread across his pale, thin lips.

[Surpanakha]

The air around Surpanakha's shriveled, unsightly form rippled and the creature was soon replaced by the illusion of a man: tall, powerfully built and with great sheets of silver hair cascading down his back. Several thorn-like appendages protruded from his shoulders and upper torso - evidences of Livyatan's demoniac manifestation. Hessian cloak and garments left his chest uncovered and the ornately carved hilt of a sorcerer's dagger could be seen, sheathed and attached to his belt.

He turned to the most aged member of the group. "Watch your tone, my dear Warlock," he drawled, "or you might find your overused tongue most unpleasantly displaced." There were no traces of enmity in his voice, also synthesized magickally, and a smile lazily worked its way across his face.

All the while, the dark energies summoned by his previous hex meandered throughout the cottage and encased it from outside, isolating it from worldly sight and honing its occupants' faculties for performing evil. Their quests would be guided by the Highers tonight.

As the Warlock digested the implication of his words, Livyatan grinned jovially at Darmok. "Aye, my friend. The Coven is reborn," he said, "and we are reborn as gods."

[Warlock]

The war-mongering proclamations of Darmok bore no interest to the Warlock, nor did the threats of the Sorcerer. He watched the two from beneath his hood, as ever, with a suspicious eye. Once he had been removed by them and the others, and he suspected that they would be all too willing to repeat this incident should they find others to re-man the covenant with whom they were on better terms.

Passing the Epoch staff from one hand into the other, he paced across the floor of his humble dwelling, echoes of his footsteps reverberating due to the high concentration of magic in the area. Now he stood with his back to the other two, though made sure their reflection could be seen in the orb of his stave.

“Sorcery and spells do not make a man a God, but a trickster, a cheap conjurer. The true power lies in my studies, of both time and space…”

[Surpanakha]

"Your studies achieved much when last you were with the Coven, did they not, Warlock?" he asked, the intonation on the name one of mockery and contempt. The very title suggested blasphemy; sacrilege, it was, how one could make proclamations and yet do so little to justify their claims.

"You were banished once in the past for your transgressions - or precisely, your lack of it, or anything else for that matter. You did nothing," he spat. Livyatan clasped his hands behind his back and strolled past the side of the pentagram to stand beside the aged man. "But you will do wonders. Your theories and conjectures, implemented by our manipulation of magick, can shape the multiverse to serve our personal doctrine."

[Warlock]

“Save your breath,” he snapped in reply, waving an apathetic hand.

“Words do not make a man, deeds do.”

[Surpanakha]

Both eyebrows arched, amused. "Perhaps then you may tell us more of these sacred deeds you speak so fondly of."

[Zachariah Darmok]

'Yes old friend, why dont you tell us what you have been up to all these years that is so grad..perhaps only then can we say thats deeds have made you....a man...if thats of course what you call yourself these days' Zachariah looked up and waited for a responce his eyes grim and dark.

[Warlock]

“If your presence here is warranted only to insult me then I suggest you take your leave and find another as skilled as I to complete your circle.”

The Warlock waved a hand at the two and turned away, pulling the epoch staff in close to its body, the pulse of light warming and reassuring him. He shook his head and muttered a hex of some manner, before beginning to pace off to the opposite side of the room.

[Zachariah Darmok]

' You know there is not another Warlock, and we do not insult you, we talk realisticly...' Darmok said turing to view Warlock.

[Warlock]

“Do not forget what a potent asset I am to you both,” the Warlock said, the Epoch staff passing from one hand to the other.

“I have only begun to tap into the power of time as an ally… pray tell, what has occupied your minds, brothers?”

[Surpanakha]

"Aye, there is not another as skilled as yourself, my friend. That is why we have come to seek you... full possession of this demoniac body I am caged within is not so simple a feat. I would not attempt it without just cause," he stated firmly.

"We have not come here to insult you, nor to shower you with praise beyond what you deserve. That which occupies our minds will be revealed to you in due time... but first, you must decide. Will the Warlock return to the Subryn Coven and serve beside us once more?"

[Zachariah Darmok]

Zachariah stood a little to the left of Warlock looking towards him, it was his decision and his decision only, if he wanted to spend eternity alone in a wooden shack then noone would stop him.....Darmok knew however, somehow that was not to be his thoughts.

[Warlock]

“… But of course, brother.”