Bloodlines: Sundergotte

[Marius Sundergotte]

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Schwartzweld
10,000 Years BBY

* * *








The Great Hall of House Sundergotte had been bathed in the blood of its' inhabitants. Once magnificient statues and intricately carved edifices now crumbled beneath the weight of the destruction wrought upon them. Delicate craftsmanship lay in shattered piles, and what had not been laid to waste was simply left to stand in lone solitude. Like ghosts of time, these scars that had once been such grand testaments to their builder's skilled hands now stood as painful reminders.


And I, one of the few survivors of my House and the tragedy that had befallen it.


Just like the remnants of my home, I too was scarred, bearing the brunt of our enemies' fury. We had fought like creatures possessed, my kin and I. My mate, Anatalia. I watched her fall, driven through by a pike and held aloft in the hands of the Loveloxx that'd slain her. My children as well; they were slain without quarter and dragged through the grand outer courtyards like trophies before their heads were cut away and placed high upon the spiked ramparts for all to see.


And yet I survived.


I was a beast possessed, the Blood in my veins boiling over as my family was slain and paraded before all who could - and would - see. It had been almost too much, and those I could lay hand upon bore the terrible brunt of my wrath. House Eidelbrendt lost as many to my blade as Sundergotte lost to it. But it was still not enough. Not enough to bring my beloved Anatalia and my children back from damnation.


My House, my Blood. All had been placed upon the Blade of Judgement and their souls now ran down the length of that unforgiving steel.


My Rei'dulf had foretold this day, but in my vanity I had dismissed their tellings. And for that I paid the ultimate price. I paid with the lives of those that meant everything to me.


The Black Waters called to me even as my body slipped away from the banks of the Urne'hga River and into the cold embrace of what I had hoped was the Eternal Hunt - Nri'atra'kehn. To be felled in battle, to be cut down in the heat of that primal and raw moment... it was the key to such honor. I was glad to go, and as the cool waters rushed over me I knew that my time had come. I was to join Melkiah Losstarot in his Great Unseen Crusade that transcended all things living.


And yet...


It was not my time.

[Marius Sundergotte]

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The face that met his eyes was certainly not that of Melkhiah Losstarot.

Rather, it was the bespectacled features of a man who'd spent his life among books. A life within walls that protected him from the outside terrors of constant conflict. A conflict of Blood that transcended so much. He felt hands upon him. Hands that sought to pull bandages and gauze around his wounds.

There was another, in the background of his awareness. It flickered in his mind's eye, yet remained intangible.

When Marius Sundergotte opened his eyes, he was most assuredly not among those in the Nri'atra'kehn.

It was his first conscious thought. The next was a welling up of pain and despair. He had been denied his rightful place with those of the Histories, and instead given agonizing torment among the living once more.

He screamed. He raged against the injustice of it all. He pushed against his mortal bindings to beg in the most primal of languages to be allowed his right. And each utterance was met with denial. No, he'd not be granted a dying wish. His reward had been taken from him.

The Change began to overtake him, his eyes flashing in a brilliance of tawny yellow even as the jet black pelt of his second form blossomed forth from bare skin.

All of his rage coalesced in dramatic fashion, hands that were once hands thickening into massive paws even as his features twisted in grotesque display. He had earned the right to the Eternal Hunt. He had paid for it with not only his own blood, but that of his mate's. His offspring, his young... they had paved the way for him. They awaited him! To be denied was the gravest of transgressions.

"Marius Sundergotte."

His name. His pride. It was spoken by a voice that held so much weight. It stilled his desperate struggles. He knew that voice.

"K... Klavius... "

There was no mistaking the level tones of Klavius Losstarot's even timbre. Even now as it held the harsh overtones of command.

Marius Sundergotte grew still, feeling as hands passed over his broken body. His eyes remained closed, clenched shut lest he see the stern visage of the Apex and the eyes that now looked upon his own broken body.

"My Sire," he began again. His voice shook, trembling as each wave of pain crashed over him.

"My House... "

There was finality in the words that finished his sentence.

"Your House has fallen, Marius Sundergotte."

[Marius Sundergotte]

He was a man broken. A man bent against the blade of injustice and cut in two... and yet he still lived. While those closest to him... those who held his heart... they had been slaughtered and placed as grotesque trophies for all to see. And yet he had been spared. He had gone to the Black Waters, and been denied. Rather than being given the right to Nri'atra'kehn, he had been pulled from the brink and given new life. His body was a broken shell of what it had once been. His features were distorted, scars running rampant across his once proud and noble face. He had been the pinnacle of his Bloodline. And now he was a misshapen creature allowed to live and breath once more. His House would be forever cursed with his new form.

There would be no redemption.

But there would be retribution.

And truly, what was the line that separated those two? In the mind of a man pulled from all that he knew was owed to him, what difference was there between that, and what was owed to those that wronged him?

Marius Sundergotte sat. His features were like stone. Like scarred, yellowed, angry stone.

In a simple wooden chair he reclined in darkness. His form leaned back, yet hunched partially forward in a strange display of expectant relaxation. The inky black around him was alive, he knew that much. And yet it remained hidden. It existed beyond his immediate awareness. There were beings that watched him, and he allowed their scents to fill his nostrils. He knew their smell. Knew the telltale colors of the Losstarot.

It was they who'd pulled him from the brink. They who had 'rescued' him.

Marius Sundergotte huffed a breath out through his nose, the beginnings of a sneer forming on thin lips.

"I can smell you, Masters."

[Marius Sundergotte]

Silence met him, but he knew they were there all the same. Klavius Losstarot and his own Council. Marius could pick apart the scent of their flesh from that of their clothing and goldstone and leather adornments. All of their finery. His eyes remained lidded as he stared ahead into the bottomless shadows. They were silent, and he knew that they watched him closely. He, who had lost his House. He, who had been pulled once more into the land of the living.

"Why. Why have you saved me."

His voice snaked out into the darkness around him like an angry serpent, seeking to bring pain to any who would answer him.

It was Klavius who spoke up then, his own towering form materializing out of seemingly nothing.

"Because it is my will."

Marius looked up to the Apex. Klavius Losstarot was like a monolith; undaunted by the bitter resentment in Marius' own eyes. The Losstarot Lupine did not flinch. Rather, features that seemed as though they'd been carved in stone set themselves in a frown.

"Your 'will'?" There was scorn in his tone now, and he leaned forward slightly, fingers gripping the armrests of his chair until the knuckles grew white. His next words lashed out like an unforgiving whip. "Your 'will' is that I should witness my House fall into the depths ruination?!"

"Not ruination, Marius. Never that. Losstarot would never let any House, Greater or Lesser, fall completely. We are stewards of you all."

Klavius stood like a sentinel, glaring down at the wreck of a man that the Mastersire of House Sundergotte had become. His soul was in turmoil, ruled by anger and despair. His body was a shadow of its' former glory.

"No. We would never allow House Sundergotte to fall completely."

The growl began in his chest, rolling up to coat his next words with a low, creeping thunder. He gripped the armrests only a moment longer before rising to stand. He faced Klavius unflinchingly, and with accusation in his eyes.

"It was your pride that nearly struck your House down. We merely prevented that from happening."

[Marius Sundergotte]

They were words that cut deep. They wounded him just as much as the myriad of fresh scars that laced his body. And yet they were words that fired something in his soul. An unspoken resentment that radiated from him in intangible waves.

Pride.

His pride.

To be accused of the devastation that had befallen his House was worse than being cast into the burning pain of the Silver Lakes. Marius Sundergotte had broken the gaze he held with Klavius, sending his eyes downward in shock. His chest swelled with an inhaled breath, and he bared his teeth out of instinct.

"My pride- "

"Yes. Your pride."

Marius stood, unable to meet the angry, ice-blue eyes of his accuser. And yet, was that what Klavius truly was? Even if he had wished to ask, he knew that he would receive no answer. Only that unflinching stare.

Klavius stepped past him then, long strides taking the Apex across the stone floor and to the pair of massive Wehlwood doors. One hand passed before him, and they opened without resistance.

It was then that Marius lifted his eyes, whirling about on his heel to stare after the Losstarot.

"And am I to suffer, then? Am I to exist outside of my House?"

Pausing in the threshold, Klavius seemed to consider the question. But it was only for a short moment, as without word he continued on.

The doors ground shut behind him, leaving Marius Sundergotte alone with the Rei'dulf of the Losstarot.

[Marius Sundergotte]

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The vultures.

They picked me clean. They rendered the last remaining shreds of my tattered psyche into flayed strips of nothingness. They showed no mercy, and they gave no quarter. The Rei'dulf was without pity in their examinations, and I felt time slip away into a meaningless intangible. It eluded me. For how long I was sequestered with the old Losstarot mage council I would never be able to say. It could have been a day... it could have been one hundred years. It all felt the same, and in the end I suppose that it mattered little. What had remained of my body had been bypassed to the remnants of my innermost essence. They stripped me beyond bare, and laid me upon their sacrificial alter.

And when they had finished, I felt myself reborn.

I was a new creature. A new Lupine. A new being.

And while my physical self still held the marks of the blades of House Eidelbrendt, my soul had become a singular light, burning for not only the one true Bloodline, but for the hope to redeem myself.

But, the old spark still remained, dim though it'd become. My pride. It flickered in the lowest depths of my awareness and licked hungry tendrils upward. Tempered though I had become, I was the last Scion of House Sundergotte. I was determined to lift my House back up from the ashes.

The Greater and Lesser Houses of the Losstarot Bloodline would watch in wonderment at the return of House Sundergotte.

[Marius Sundergotte]

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Two days later he awoke. He had been brought to a small room, no more than mere servant's quarters. To pass from the grand trappings of his now-crumbling citadel to this... an afterthought. He stared at the stone ceiling above, but made no move to rise. Someone was with him, their scent almost overpowering. Still though it was not enough to cause him to get up. His awareness began to slip once more, as despondency overtook him, and his eyes closed, a sigh escaping his lips as he fell back into the tortured embrace of a fitful slumber.



"Wake yourself, Mastersire."

The words pried into his mind with softness at first, and he resisted the call. His nightmares had finally given way to a blissful rest, devoid of anything his subconscious might have wished to show him.

Again the whispered voice. A woman's voice that now held a measure of iron.

"Pull yourself back, Sundergotte."

Marius groaned, pushing against the invader of his thoughts.

"I can see your mind, and I can see your will. Your color has begun to wash away and fade into nothingness..."

He gave a hrmph, finally allowing his eyes to open and take in the speaker. She was young... perhaps only just having reached her first century of life. The blue of her eyes seemed to nearly glow, her delicate features held in serene calm.

"He knew her face. He had seen her many times during those times that the Houses gathered in governance of their lands.

"Tarath Losstarot," came the low rumble from his chest. "Go and haunt your mate."

"And why should I do such a thing? He is the one who sent me here."

"Klavius sent his witch wife... to me?"

"Klavius believes that you will rise above the treachery of House Eidelbrendt."

She stepped away from him then, watching as he pulled himself up, legs going over the side of his bed so that he could sit.

"This is his will?"

Tarath Losstarot seemed to mull over the question put to her, digesting each word. One hand came out, a thin chain of goldstone wrapped around her fingers. Affixed to the slender links was a small pendant of polished red starheart. This she held out to him in offering that he would take it.

The meaning was clear.

"He gives you his blessing."

[Marius Sundergotte]

Marius Sundergotte stared at the pendant. His body froze for only a moment, but it wasn't long before he was standing. Bare feet on a thin yet vibrantly colored rug shifted as his weight rested fully upon them. His body was like a map of lines, scars intersecting each other and populating his once unmarred skin. A hand reached up, feeling across the myriad of healed wounds over his chest. There was still a trace of heat, but his metabolism had mostly finished its' work. Another deep breath, and Marius wordlessly accepted the gift from Tarath.

"Your mate and children are to be interred on Weit-Fällt in a week's time."

His gaze never left the starheart, but his voice at least could still be found.

"Where are they," it was spoken in a low tone, and he finally looked up to her.

"The Pre'jehna Cathedral."

The thin chain was wound around two fingers as he palmed the pendant.

"Will I be able to see them... before they are sent to the Gate of Souls?"

Tarath bowed her head, her own hands coming together in a show of respect.

"But of course. Klavius wishes that you perform the rites when they are laid to rest."

She paused in thought, then went on.

"It is only right."

Marius nodded at that. He knew well enough the significance of what she spoke of. His mate, his everything. Anatalia Sundergotte had been his only. She had been the one woman that he would do anything for. He could still see her radiant smile in his mind's eye, and it pained him.

The starheart was clutched in a trembling fist.

"Tell me, with your Sight. Could I have stopped what happened? Could I have done anything different?"

Tarath Losstarot considered this request, her eyes still downcast. The turn of her features did not lift, and he knew her answer even as she took a single step back in respect for him and his loss.

"No."

[Marius Sundergotte]

* * *

Pre'jehna Cathedral




Your color has begun to wash away and fade into nothingness...

They were words that stung, yet the truth they held drove like a spike into his mind. Even he knew that Tarath Losstarot was right in her assessment. She had the Gift, the De'v'eni Szena. She and Klavius both had been blessed with the talent, and to some had, become like deities. Their powers afforded them a status that only fit their House. There were others, scattered through the other Houses both Greater and Lesser, but those were less common. Even the Losstarot young belonging to Klavius and Tarath showed signs of it. House Sundergotte held a few such Lupines, but Marius - though the head of his House - had not. His prowess lay in sheer power and strength.

Which made his defeat so much more humbling. For all of his strength, he had fallen. His House had fallen. His kin and all those that held true to him had been destroyed. All but him.

Stepping through the massive, arching doorway of the Pre'jehna Cathedral and into the front courtyard, Marius felt his pace slow. His eyes passed upwards to graze over the carved statues lining the walkway he now stood upon. He had ascended the entry staircase with relative ease and a steady gait, but now...


... now he could not help but pause. The great depictions of stone, of Lupines long before him...

The towering forms of Kantür Losstarot. Of Marco Van-Derveld. Of Gregor Su'beate. Even those of Lesser Houses stood just as tall. Sa'ul Aulflendte. Kida Tene'schonne. All were given their due and all were shown respect in stone. Their unseeing eyes cast downward at him, seemingly scrutinizing every small step he took. Every small step that brought him to the carved doors that would admit him entrance into the cathedral itself.

Pillars framed rows of banners, each with the mark of every House belonging to the Losstarot Bloodline.

And just before the doors, he stopped. To his right, like a mandate, hung the banner of his House. Of House Sundergotte. He looked past the statue of Dietre Sundergotte, letting his eyes travel those familiar crescent-moon lines and the downward spikes that sprouted from the bottom. It was a mark that was his. It was his birthright.

Marius let his features harden then. He let his resolve begin to rebuild itself.

And as the great doors to the Pre'jehna Cathedral began to open, the Sundergotte Lupine turned from the sight of his House Brand. His eyes remained ahead as he stepped forward and through the cathedral's threshold.

[Marius Sundergotte]

"My dearest, I have failed you."

Marius knelt at the coffin of his mate. His head bowed, and each hand had been placed along the top edge in reverence. All around him stood candles, their flames casting dancing shadows all about.

Inside of the cathedral was silent, except for his own whispered words of sorrow. None but him inhabited this holy place, as he had been allowed privacy to mourn. Privacy to give his regrets over to the dead. It was a small consolation in the face of such a tragedy, yet it was appreciated regardless.

"I would join you, on Weit-fällt, but the Bloodline wills that I do not... " his words were so quiet as only the dead could hear.

He knelt in silence then, broad shoulders trembling in a moment of uncontrolled weeping. One hand retreated from the stone sarcophagus to wipe away the offending tears. His features screwed into an expression of resolve to try and battle against the grief he felt.

"Our House will rise again, I promise to you that much."

Finally he looked up, his eyes passing to the smaller coffins that held his children.

And despite his efforts to drive away the pain, it crashed upon him in fresh waves. His young ones had been no more than ten cycles... so young, so innocent...

His weight seemed to collapse into itself, and Marius hung his head once more, unable to look upon his family.

[Marius Sundergotte]

His awareness was so focused. It was so taken by the grief consuming him. It was engulfed by the knowledge that the dead he had come to pay respect to now would never be looked upon again. They would be given to the beasts on Weit-Fällt.

The first indication that his solitary vigil was being intruded upon was the scent. Of soot and fur; of incense and earth. It was unmistakable. Raw and primal. And yet, it was repulsive all the same. He knew what those smells meant, and that he detected them here, now... in the midst of his family's remains... it was as though the finality of his loss had finally been realized. It had finally permeated enough into his being that he could no longer hope for all of this to simply be a nightmare.

They were the Sestre Khi'ss'tileh. The Sisters of Purgatory. They slowly drew closer to him, their wide paws padding along the stone floor silently. Their black fur was coated in colored mud, dried in clumps to create the crude illusion of some astral being. Tattered strips of red-stained cloth wound around and through shaggy, unkempt fur. There was no escaping them. No escaping the meaning of their presence here.

Marius Gave one last sigh, and his hands fell to clasp together at his chest.

"I will be with you when my work is complete, Love... "

Ponderously, his body obeyed the commands of his mind, and he rose. His eyes passed over the rest of family.

"... I will be with all of you."

The hurf of a snorted breath caused his eyes to turn, his gaze falling on the Sister to his right. She and her coven of banshees lined the walkway that led to the raised dias of the Cathedral and its' unfortunate collection of dead. Each one sat, their tails wound around their paws.

"Watch them," his voice was low, and pallid yellow eyes looked up to meet his own before the head dipped in silent reverence.

He knew that they would. They would sing to the souls of his slaughtered loved ones, calming their souls before their passage through the Gate of Souls.

[Marius Sundergotte]

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And what could I truly do, but to avenge my mate? To avenge my children? We were all slowly dying away, our Bloodline fading into the aether. We were being cast adrift into the realm of Anu'kur. The world of the void, and of darkness, and of nothing. The Houses were slowly becoming shadows of what they once were. But at the very least, it was not only the Losstarot that was suffering this cruel happenstance.

The Loveloxx were in their own identical dilemma.

Perhaps that was what drove them to take from me that which I cherished the most?

Anatalia had defied all and given me a boy and a girl. And now they all had been wrenched from me.

I would have my revenge.

[Marius Sundergotte]

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It had been two passings since he'd said his farewells in the Pre'jhena Cathedral. Two passings since his family had been given to the Hallesmütt. They had been laid out beside the great torch, for the beasts of Weit-fällt to descend upon. No one knew how long it took for those monstrous night creatures to do what they did, but it was always the same result when the sun rose for its' few hours - the bodies were gone. They always were.

Two passings had turned Marius Sundergotte into a much different man than he had once been. Before, he was aloof; prideful, arrogant. Now, he was a quiet vessel of waiting retribution. All that had once been dear to him had been wrenched from his grasp to be cast away and scattered to the Seven Winds. All that had once been so precious, gone. Stolen. Never to be returned.

Marius Sundergotte was a man of seething retribution, hidden beneath an exterior of pious patience and silence.