Blood Omen: Equestrian Blood Bath

1. The New Dominion Arrives

The graveyard was silent. The sighs of the dead were all but inaudible. The full moon shone over head. A light fog rested low, embracing the ground in its cold, wet being. In the center of the main courtyard, stood a lonely, old mausoleum. No words were inscribed to indicate any vacancy or lack there of. Slowly, a crack began to form along the door frame. As though being chipped away by hand, it grew unevenly, jumping several inches in seconds, then slowing to an immediate crawl. Once the fissure reached the bottom of the sturdy frame, it took a jagged turn, and began growing along the bottom of the mausoleum front. This pattern continued, until the crack met back where it started, creating a sort of rectangular gape.

As though it happened in the blink of seconds, the front of the mausoleum shattered into several large chunks and many smaller shards of varying size. The event caused an earth-rattling rumble that echoed throughout the graveyard. The patrons of this place gave no evidence of care; they simply slumbered on, listlessly, for eternity. Along with the crumbling of the stone wall came an ominous glowing, green light of pure, venomous malice. As the partition fell, a figure came into view, standing between the source of light and the opening. He slowly stepped out of the crypt and into view.

Now out of the shadows, anyone could see this silhouette was not entirely man, but far from beast. His skin was as white as the marrow of bone, his long hair an even whiter, almost silver. His eyes were cold and soulless, yet shone a brilliant topaz. He stood almost six and half feet tall, and was outfitted with shoulder pads, the right one larger than the left, black leather leggings, steel boots, a red waist guard, and his blade, The Soul Reaver, sheathed at his side. His fangs shined in the moonlight. He hunched over slightly, then quickly brought his head up, throwing his shoulder length hair behind him. He took in a deep breath, savoring every detail in the lingering air. The smell of the equestrian, the friendly, the mortal, the feeble, the weak: all of this met his flared nostrils and he smiled. It wasn't a smile of rejoice or happiness. It was cold and heartless. It shown of hunger, lust, pride and pleasure. Pure, sick pleasure.

He caught something else in the air that smelled sour against his senses. His smile quickly faded, and his visage turned far darker than his previous countenance. The odor was foul, but not unfamiliar. The figure of a large armored man flashed in his mind. No, not a man. This was the scent of a Hylden. More specifically, that of the Sarafan Lord.

The ominous figure standing in front of the looming crypt simply spat in disgust. While his old foe was exceedingly powerful, he had also fallen at the Hylden Gate: a portal leading to the home realm of the Sarafan Lord. He did not take the prospect that his old enemy had been here lightly, however he did chuckle. This may be more of a challenge than first anticipated.

He began walking away from the mausoleum, taking slow strides towards the exit. As he did so, the grand sight of the mausoleum began to fade, until it completely vanished. A fountain loomed in its place, the water's steady flow unbroken, for the mausoleum was never truly there.

The man who had walked out of the phantom crypt stood at the exit of the graveyard, the tall gate staring down at him. Locked from the outside he had no means of a physical escape. He began walking towards the gate, the fog slowly rising up and wrapping around his legs, slowly engulfing him. When his body touched the cold, dark bars of confinement, the mist had completely swallowed him. He grew translucent, and passed through the gate with ease, becoming one with the mist.

He did not break his stride, as he continued his walk out of the graveyard. He made his way up a nearby hill, until he was looking out over a small sleeping village. Cottages, homes, and businesses dotted the country side. A farm stood to the side. He looked at a nearby sign.

Now Entering Ponyville

Population: 413

Ponyville, eh? Well he would soon make it his. For he was the Savior of Nosgoth, the Scion of Balance, the Leader of the Council, the Scourge of the Circle, the Disrupter, the Pebble in the Pond. He ruled over his own Empire, his own armies. He was the de facto Emperor of Nosgoth. He was Lord Kain, King of Vampires, and this realm would soon be his.