Old Beastby TorgaddonChaptersThe End and the BeginningHair of CrimsonSweet NostalgiaThe End and the Beginning"GAAA-HA-HA-HAA" The laughter came in as something in between an ululating howl and a semblance of human speech and it echoed through the dark woods of Sylvania like a thing of form and life, rendering even the blood-maddened Northmen silent by virtue of the underlining insanity that permeated it. The barbarian Norscan and Kurgan tribesmen, so used to the screaming, terrified masses of the Empire, so enamored with the scent of fear and the terror brimming in the eyes of any Empire army they faced, stopped dead and could do nothing short of stare at the creature that howled with a joy that would have dwarfed even the most zealotic devotee of the Blood God Khorne himself. Fear. Fear of death. Fear of pain. Fear, that emotion which was such an integral weapon in the arsenal of the Lost Ones, the followers of the Chaos Gods, found no purchase upon the soul of the creature they faced. Creator and former Grand Master of the Drakenhof Templars, the Reaper of Sylvania, the beast made manifest, Alberacht Nictus had lost the ability to feel fear centuries ago. All that could give him solace these days was the sweet thundering joy of battle, as sweet upon his tongue as the coppery tang of blood he so readily partook in. Although distorted by his devolution into a Varghulf, his features still held a semblance of the once handsome twenty-seven year old noble he had been all those many years ago, before he had been turned into a vampire. For the first few centuries, he had still been handsome, frozen in time as a young noble, but he had enjoyed the hunt too much and had glutted himself too readily on the lifeblood of his prey. It was the fate of those children of the night who took to the beast and the blood too much to devolve into a Varghulf, their mind lost to the baser instincts and desires, barely more than oversized bats. Where other vampires had become Varghulf, losing their minds as their bodies engorged and turned monstrous, Alberacht had ever been to willful, too determined, too loyal, to allow himself to fall to such depths. His body had grown, his muscles had swelled and his features had somewhat disfigured under the tender mercies of the beast within all vampires, but his mind was still his own. Addled, insane and greatly prone to the manic frenzy of the beast, but his own, nonetheless. The great pinions of leathery flesh, rivaling the wingspan of a royal griffon, that made the wings upon his back beat at the chill night air, keeping both his muscle-bloated bulk in the air as he surveyed the battlefield. His body alone, a horrific amalgam between that of a bat, human and wolf, a third of a ton of pure, steel-chord like muscle flexed as he mentally chose the next to die spitted upon his talons. The archaic armor he wore, a gift from his father-in-death, Vlad von Carstein himself, sharpened interlocking plates the color of dried blood, gleamed sisterly in the moon's pale light. His heavy two handed Kriegsmesser, a weapon of such size and weight even the elite greatsword-wielders of the Empire would have been hard pressed in using, lay in a relaxed one handed grip in Alberacht Nictus's right hand. A first generation vampire, over a millennium old, Alberacht had seen the world. In his time he had faced everything from trolls, orcs and Giants to even Bloodthirsters of Khorne, so famed for their killing prowess. A veteran of such magnitude could only look upon the seemingly endless army of Northmen arrayed beneath him with contempt. Behind silvery strands of hair, his long mane caught in a single braid resting on his shoulder and reaching his midsection, white eyes without irises regarded the Northmen with the scrutiny of an apex predator. With a collective roar, goaded by their chieftains, the army of Northmen charged anew the narrow cliff side of the Ebony Stairs, their howling oaths and curses cut short as they spit themselves upon the eerily silent guardians of Drakenhof Castle. Dressed in tattered and freshly ripped finery, the dead-eyed and slack-faced risen dead did not break nor scream as the Northmen collided with their pikes and shields. Like a well-oiled machine, the dead pushed as one, throwing the undisciplined mass of marauders and raiders back, their spears thrusting and "palos" long swords falling. The part of Alberacht's brain that could still appreciate irony chuckled darkly as he looked at the scene unfolding beneath him. For so many years, the corrupt nobility of Sylvania had bled the province dry of resources and harassed the peasantry, it was only fitting for them to die defending it. Whether they wanted to or not. He had educated the current day nobility In his day, nobles had standards and responsibilities. He had butchered them all and risen them as mindless automata to defend the Castle. Alberacht had never been fond of necromancy, had barely ever used such magics in his thousand year long unlife. It was too impersonal, too cowardly. However that did not mean he was not good at it. Raising and maintaining an army of over six hundred nobles and petty barons was child's play to him. Indeed, it was something he had already relegated to his subconscious mind as he readied himself to surge into the barbarians once more and break them on discipline's altar. None could reason what fresh madness had possessed Alberacht's mind, but as feared as he was for his fighting prowess and vicious abandon, the Reaper of Sylvania was known also for his unpredictability and rabid loyalty for his province and the von Carstein bloodline. When all other vampires had fled, driven away by the encroaching horde of Chaos worshippers, Alberacht had stayed. In an act of apparent insanity he had slaughtered the entirety of Sylvania's nobility and opened the gates of Drakenhof Castle to the peasants and common folk of the province. He had even openly defied and challenged Neferata herself, the progenitor of the Lahmian bloodline knowing better than to dare the lunatic mind of the Reaper of Sylvania. Now that very same peasentry and common folk stood on the ramparts hurling sling, arrow and musket shot at the Chaos horde, determined to defend their families to the bitter end. The ancient vampire smiled to himself. Finally, the valor and unyielding nature Sylvania had been famed for in his day had emerged anew. If the current nobility was incapable of it, the common folk were more than capable. With a mental effort he plucked at the strands of Shysh from the aethyr and channeled the Wind of Death into the Corpse Geometries, raising the freshly fallen northmen to add their strength to his dead nobility. Barbarians howled in rage as they were forced to fight against their own warriors, now nothing more than thralls to the Reaper of Sylvania's will. Sending the maintenance of the Corpse Geometries to his subconscious mind, Alberacht plummeted to his chosen target. A horn-helmed giant of a man, his long beard braided with charms and fetishes, a Jarl or chieftain by his posture, pointed and ordered his three equally large bodyguards to the Reaper. Alberacht smashed into the first bodyguard like a falcon, his foot caving in the fool's breastplate like tin. The other two came howling, their axes whirling in their hands. They were obviously veterans, worthy warriors in their own right, but to Alberacht they looked as slow and weak as children. His Kriegsmesser licked out like a viper's tongue beheading one only to slice to the ax haft and throat of the second. He flourished the heavy weapon with the speed and grace a veteran duelist would flourish a rapier, muscles the size of boulders and cultivated over a thousand battlefields, making the weapon feel as light as a feather in his hand. Throughout the encounter his face never lost it's regal stoicism and practiced indifference. The bearded northman stood before him and with a challenging roar he charged the gigantic Varghulf. As big as the chieftain was, he barely reached Alberacht's lower chest and was just shy of being half as wide as the shoulders as the vampire was. The mask fell instantly and Alberacht's regal poise and noble features twisted into a berserk grimace and twisted grin, fangs the size of dirks splaying to form a horrific death's head smile. Vampires naturally tried to hide the beast from the features but Alberacht had become too much of a Varghulf and waltzed with the beast far too often to be bothered by such masquerading anymore. A good and brave opponent always made him smile and he saw no reason to deny himself that. Enormous biceps powered his thick wristed hand into the chieftain's banded iron shield. Iron hard fingers tipped with long talons pierced through the ill-forged metal and, with a short tug, the leather straps of the shield split apart and the northman lost his shallow defense. Laughing wildly, Alberacht brought his Kriegsmesser in a blurring arc and chopped through the blade of the northman's ax. His weapon broken and shieldless, the northman could only scream as the Reaper's mouth opened and caught his throat. Alberacht drank deeply of the northman's blood while shaking the warrior with the ease and viciousness that a hunting hound would shake a rabbit. Another cry shook him out of his blood induced reverie and he dropped into a crouch, dodging a shrieking ax while, in the same fluid motion, slicing the feet from the disease bloated champion of Nurgle that had wielded said ax. Without wasting another moment he brought his heavy boot down upon the screaming barbarian and ended his struggles. His armor groaned with strain as Alberacht's frame grew and already massive muscles swelled even more. His features grew more lupine, his fang filled maw slowly extending until it started to resemble a wolf's muzzle. The ecstasy-inducing change made Alberacht howl to the sky as he appreciated the sublime beauty of battle. His Varghulf nature came out more and more, what paltry mask of humanity had been left in the ancient vampire becoming more superficial by the second. The beastly vampire charged the mass of chaos warriors again, froth spewing from his mouth, bellicose laughter thundering from his chest. He bulled through a shield wall, his talons and blade turning all around him to ruin. Northmen and Kurgan died clasping ravaged throats or trying to hold spewing guts from their bellies. Mutated ogres of the Wastes howled their last as their heads and bodies crumpled around the Reaper's strikes. Chosen champions of the Chaos Gods, both those whose names had just begun to rise in their masters eyes and veterans bloated with the gifts of their unholy lords died as chattel to the slaughter house. Alberacht tossed and pivoted, jumped and charged, his style changing from step to step. He struck out with the precise strokes of the Nippon samurai, charged with the stoicism and unbreakable poise of the Zhufbaraki dwarfs and pounced with the sheer bloodlust that would have made the savage Ulfwerenar quiver in their pelts. Sanity and insanity warred for the dominion of his mind and the vampire enjoyed the clash, the constant tug-of-war. With a mental strain, Alberacht beat the beast back into submission. Not yet, first he had to find worthy prey. Then he would fully rampage. His taloned hand shot out, shattering a wooden shield and grabbed the northman behind it by his bone braided beard. With a swift tug, he lifted the howling barbarian of his feet and pulled him in, while simultaneously smashing his forehead forwards. The barbarian fell back, his head split like a rotten egg. A horned giant, thirty foot tall, moaned idiotically as it made to grab for the vampire. Alberacht sliced it's fingers off with indifference and the giant's jaw soon followed suit as the Reaper swept pass it, his wings unfurled, and eyed a proper source of information. Targeting another chieftain, clad in black iron plate, Alberacht surged forward. His two housecarls died within moments, yelling as the Reaper's sword sliced them to ribbons and the chieftain could only howl as the vampire's taloned hand engulfed his head. With resounding cracks, his great wings unfurled and Alberacht took once more to the sky, his prey struggling futily in his massive fist. The creature brought the struggling northman close to his face. Eyes that up to that point had belonged to a veteran regarded the vampire with the fear of a child even as his gauntleted fists scratched futily at Alberacht gravestone colored flesh. With a cry of despair, the chieftain slashed at Alberacht with his hand ax only to drop it in utter shock as it barely scored the stone hard muscles of the Reaper's forearm. Alberacht sighed. It was only common courtesy for a defeated warrior to stop their useless struggles, but it would have been too much to expect from the base barbarians of the far North. His muscles flexed as he slowly, methodically began crushing the warlord's skull. A single word, more growled than spoken, escaped the vampire's lips. "Where is your strongest?" The chieftain stammered and yelled but offered no answer. His famed temper already running on embers, Alberacht dug his talons deeper into the man's face and asked again. "Where... is... your strongest?" he asked, punctuating every word with a bone shattering squeeze. The warrior raised his shaking arm to a spot roughly six hundred feet from where they hovered in the air, in the middle of the main fighting force of the northmen. A round no-man's land where no northman dared to pass stood out, the air around it seeming to shimmer and twist. With the chieftain being of no more interest or use, Alberacht shattered his skull with a lazy squeeze of his massive fist and let the body fall into the mass of Chaos worshipers. Grasping at the wind of Ulgu, the Shadow Wind, Alberacht looked again at the spot, this time seeing through the magical glamour that had rendered the spot all but invisible to the naked eye. He could see three shapes, magic coalescing around them, and a fourth one, a creature so enshrouded and bloated with power that it dwarfed the three put together. Like the whisper of the wind, the name came to him, born upon the winds of the aethyr. "Kholek Suneater" Alberacht's face split into a wolfish grin so complete, it would have been excusable for any that gazed upon him to mistake him with the avatar of Ulric, the wolf-god himself. With a massive beat of his wings, Alberacht plummeted like a hunting falcon into the no-man's land. A thousand years of battle had made his flesh as tough as gravestone and his bones as strong as iron, and as such his impact with the unfortunate souls that stood before the illusionary wall came with the force that would have equaled even one of the famed Empire great cannons. Laughing and frothing at the mouth, all pretense of civility and nobility forgotten, Alberacht Nictus became a whirlwind of destruction as he advanced upon the aethyric wall. His Kriegsmesser licked out to behead and disembowel even as his talons tore heads from necks and shattered spines and chests. In but a few heartbeats, almost a dozen northmen had become mewling, broken flesh upon the ground. The Reaper pivoted a final time, his hand grasping at the wind of Ulgu and wielding it like a thing of shape and form, forming upon his clenched fist like a ball of darkness. He smashed the spell into the aethyric wall, breaking both the illusion and the shield with such force that the backlash tore at the mind of one of the three sorcerers maintaining it, shattering his skull to nothing more than shards of bone and brain matter. The other two reeled back, the first, a Kurgan witch-doctor, her face a mass of piercings and tribal tattoos and the second, a hunchbacked and horribly mutated Norscan war-shaman, his ten eyes rolling with confusion. Even before the shaman could think of a spell to launch at the monstrous apparition before them, Alberacht covered the space between them in the blink of an eye and his blade fell, splitting the man from crest to groin in a single perfect stroke. The Kurgan woman fared little better, the shadowy creatures that launched from her staff, all mouth and fangs, striking nothing than air as Alberacht evaded each one with a the speed and fluidity of a dire wolf, something that should have not been possible for one with a body so massive. Her spell-shrieking turned into a dying gurgle, her throat torn cleanly out by the vampire's fangs. He pivoted once more and beheaded the falling corpse, stopping perfectly to face the creature Alberacht had chosen as his prey. A five ton monstrosity, it's mammoth body a gruesome amalgam between the lower quarters of a dragon and the upper body of a humanoid, the Dragon Ogre Shaggoth whose name had been whispered in fear since the dawn of time, Kholek Suneater gazed at the vampire with open disdain. Second only to Krakanrok the Black, Sire of the Dragon Ogres, Kholek Suneater, the Mountain Lord was one of the oldest and most feared creatures that had ever walked the world. The skull-rune of Khorne, the Blood God, emblazoned his chest marking him as one of the Mad God's favored scions. A bone rattling bellow was the only challenge Kholek offered and the monster hefted it's great hammer, the earth underneath it cracking and sizzling with discharged lightning as it charged Alberacht. Grinning wildly, Alberacht took to the skies, his bestial mind, possessed by animal cunning, making choices instinctively rather than rationally. Shaggoth or no, all the dragon ogres had the same strategy. They hurled the lightning that empowered them through the earth before trampling their enemies to the ground. How of little use it was against an enemy that could fly. Plummeting once more, Alberacht launched a blizzard of blows with his Kriegsmesser against the monster. It retaliated with it's own human sized hammer, sparks flying where the weapons met as the two monsters became a blur of motion and the sound of steel, their bodies moving impossibly fast for creatures of such size. The monster strength and size of Kholek clashed with the raw brutality of Alberacht and they found one another evenly matched. The part of Alberacht's mind that could still reason appreciated the challenge Kholek was offering him. For all his twelve feet of height, he barely reached the middle of Kholek's prodigious belly. A lesser vampire would have been dominated immediately but for Alberacht it was nothing more than a larger mass of flesh to cut and rip. Kholek trampled the ground even as he swung, arcs of lightning coursing through the ground and his hammer, flowing through Alberacht's muscle swollen body. The vampire bit through the pain and used it only to fuel his growing anger, his body growing ever larger and more lupine with every surge of agonizing electricity. Slowly Kholek was pushed back, as the strikes he had to defend against grew faster and harder, the blade thrusting under or over his guard to scrape against his flesh or glance against his armor. The mammoth creature roared it's disbelief and, in a surge of bestial fury that rivaled Alberacht's, charged forward. His shoulder was split open by a taloned hand but Kholek surged onward and plunged the haft of his great hammer into the vampire chest. Archaic armor crumpled and flesh was crushed but the Reaper of Sylvania stood unbowed. A massive fist connected with the side of Kholek's face, shattering the oversized helmet it wore and sending shards of black iron deep into the meat and bone of the Dragon Ogre's face. Howling, Kholek spun, bringing it's scaly tail about to hamstring the vampire. Alberacht jumped while simultaneously launching with his greatsword and talons for the Dragon Ogre's back. Iron armor split under the strength of the attack and warm draconic blood spilled. But the bulk of the creature was enough to sustain the damage it had been dealt and Kholek ended it's spin with an overhead swipe of his hammer. It connected with Alberacht's side in a explosion of blunt force and lightning that would have crumpled a giant's bones. But Alberacht was one of the oldest vampires, whose only profession over the past millennia had been warfare. He pivoted with the force of the blow and took the hit, spinning in a mimic of Kholek's own attack and slicing a deep gash into the dragon ogre's chest. The Dragon Ogre reeled from the force of the blow and Alberacht, grinning maniacally, grabbed the haft of his Kriegsmesser with both hands and the heavy blade bit deep into Kholek's thick bally plate, striking into the muscled flesh beneath. A howling roar split the heavens as Kholek, blazing lightning shrouding his form, cried out and brought it's hammer to bear. The front of Alberacht's armor broke into shrapnel that tore into his flesh and his neck gorget shattered into metallic splinters. Even as the vampire was lifted off his feet, his bloodshot eye caught the glint of his locket as it snapped from the thin chain around his neck and opened to reveal the two thumb sized paintings hidden within it. The beast whinnied and slunk back as time seemed to slow around Alberacht and the pain of flesh dissipated only to make way for the pain of the heart. The image of the ebony haired, pale beauty of the right painting reminded him of his beloved wife of so long ago. The Nipponian princess, Etsuko, he had fought for in the grand Kumite in Nippon. He had defeated all opponents and won the right to ask for her hand in marriage. He remembered how he had loved her and how she had loved him. They had been two opposites, she, a petite saint of incredible kindness and possessed of a heart so warm it could melt the ice of Kislev and he, a bear sized man, rugged and unbending, a general of Empire armies famed and respected at the tender age of twenty. He recalled her grief when they had realized that she could bear him no children. He remembered his rage as he had beheaded the Sylvanian advisers and nobles that had dared imply that he should find another wife or concubine that could bear him children. He had killed them all for daring to assume that he would ever betray the love of his world. Even now, one thousand years later, Etsuko long passed on, he had never betrayed her. As much as the first image filled his mind with memories and his black heart with love, the second did just as much. A scarlet haired child graced the second painting, the artist having gone so far as to paint the missing tooth the five year old child had had when she had posed for the portrait. Little Mishka. The red headed angel had appeared upon the doorstep of Drakenhof Castle like a gift from the gods. Orphaned, crying and swaddled in grey blankets, the baby had been abandoned by her mother in the Castle's Servant Quarters when only a few months old. Etsuko and Alberacht had taken to the child immediately and raised her as their own. Alberacht had even named her as Mishka Nictus, a name of his Kislevite heritage and his own family line. Any who had dared refer to the girl as a bastard child had faced the bulwark of Alberacht's overprotective anger. How he had loved those two. How they had been the light of his life. His wife and daughter. How he had raged as he had returned from the war campaign only to find his beloved girls dead, killed at the hands of Chaos worshipers. How he had cursed the Chaos Gods and harried their cultists. How he had tortured those few he had captured alive, his mind slowly falling to madness with each passing day. How he had howled with joy when he had been turned unto the path of eternity by Vlad von Carstein. How he had pledged his eternal loyalty when Vlad had given him the means and the eternal life to forever slake his thirst against those that followed Chaos Gods. Rage and grief as fresh as the day he had found his beloved wife and daughter cold and dead filled him and remorse faded to make way for the beast that returned howling and claimed once again dominion over his mind. Feral instinct and cultured hatred grabbed hold of his heart and the world snapped back into reality. Kholek thundered towards him in a rabid charge even as Alberacht still flew, propelled by the impact of the Dragon Ogre's hammer. The Reaper of Sylvania threw out a hand and loped the locket around his massive wrist. He twisted in on himself, his wings closed flatly against his back and landed on his feet. The Kriegsmesser still stuck in the monster's gut, Kholek charged into Alberacht's shoulders, with the sound of a cannon ball slamming against a fortress wall. Alberacht moved not an inch, his clawed feet digging into the cold stone for purchase as inertia and the immovable object the vampire had become forced the greatsword to it's hilt into the monster's gut, coming out his back in a spray of gore. With and audible snap, the vampire's shoulder disconnected. Kholek's pain shriek was cut short by Alberacht's fist, as iron hard knuckles crumpled it's overgrown face into mush, cartilage and bone breaking along with dagger sized tusks. Using the momentum of his counter, Alberacht looped his arm around the Shaggoth's neck and, muscles bulging like slabs of steel and veins standing out like ropes, in a supreme show of force lifted the five ton creature of it's draconic feet and crushed it to the ground in a spray of stone and dust. Muscles bulged once more and his shoulder audibly popped back into it's socket as Alberacht tilted his head and grabbed the haft of the Shaggoth's hammer. He lifted the massive weapon over his head and grinned evilly. "Your Gods are weak" he rasped. Pain turned to hatred in the Dragon Ogre's beady eyes and the prone creature howled to the skies in a final act of defiance. The Chaos Gods answered the plea in the form of a shard of jade lightning that struck Alberacht with a thunderclap. His teeth bared, his flesh charred and his muscles twitching, Alberacht opened his mouth and laughed. "GAHAHAHA, SO VERY WEAK" and he struck down with the hammer. The hammer connected with the screaming Dragon Ogre's skull, shattering it to grime and gristle, ending the legacy of one of the most feared and primal creatures of the world, in one fell swoop. The heavy weapon slowly slid from his hands and Alberacht slowly began falling on his back. "Etsuko, Mishka, I am coming home... my sweet ones". But even as he fell, Alberacht knew it would not be so. The Chaos Gods did not accept to be cheated of their victories and like a sheath of skin over a gangrenous wound, the faint outline of an entity so horrific it could not be described, faded in and out of the sky. An infinite number of mouths smiled hatefully and whispered the thousand names of the Grand Architect, Tzeentch. Final rest would not be allowed to the warrior who had seen fit to end one of Chaos's favored sons. The world opened up like a maw beneath him. A thousand times a thousand worlds lay in wait, their gates opened wide, in a thousand times a thousand possibilities and realities as the wheel of destiny made it's turns. Albericht howled as he fell through. Applebloom ran through the Everfree forest, her small hands cut by thorns, her tiny feet struggling to give her as much speed as possible How could she have been so stupid. Of any day or night she could have chosen to enter the Everfree Forest, she had made the mistake of entering it on the Moonless Night. Old things. Malevolent things. Things older than Celestia, Luna and even Equestria herself lay in the Everfree Forest and it was upon such nights that they emerged, hungry and unforgiving. Apllebloom's scarlet hair flailed around her terrified eyes, as the trees screamed behind her. "Stupid, stupid girl" she yelled to herself, every step sending white hot knives of pain through her exhausted muscles, every gasp of breath like boiling steam in her tired lungs, her yellow pelt of fur and clothes slick and heavy with cold sweat. She would die here, she knew it, and the last thing her family would remember her by would be her stupid little sister's quarrel she had had with Applejack. Instead of a fond farewell, a heart warming "Thank now", all they would remember would be Applebloom yelling "Stop tryin' ta act like mother, yah'll never be her", and the sight of her back as she had ran away from home. Even as she ran, another apparition sauntered at the very edge of her sight, coalescing as if from the very shadows of the Forest themselves. It's glowing white form was such a contrast with the dark gloom of the woods, it's white flowing mane so alight it would have made stars weep tears of jealousy, it's face so motherly and beautiful it would have made Celestia herself seem blanched and haggard, it's slender form shrouded in a dress so thin it looked more like mist quilted into shape. Applebloom darted to her right, her frame racked with crying hiccups, her eyes screwed shut, refusing to look at the change she knew was coming. She did not want to have to see again the angelic mare's ivory hair fall into clumps and harden, her beautiful face shrivel and rot into a leering skull, eye-holes blazing with corpse-light and shimmering dress rip apart to reveal a hideous and malformed bony construct with far too many skeletal limbs to be natural. She could not however, blot out the sound of it's shrieks as it joined the other apparitions hounding her, howling a call somewhere between a cackling, sepulchral laugh and the hunger growls of starving wolves. All she could do was run, knowing more and more that with every step the apparitions were gaining on her, eager to feast and devour, to rend and tear, to rip the very life out of her. A scream of utter pain escaped her mouth as one of the apparitions pounced, barely missing the back of her head, only for it's fleshless teeth to rip a deep wound into her thigh. Flesh ripped and bone fractured under the abomination's bite, shock and pain making the little filly crash to the moss covered ground of the Forest, momentum rolling her from the monstrosities grasping, skeletal hands into a deep ravine. She rolled down the large hillock, her tiny frame bruising heavily as it impacted wayward branches and boulders and landed in a heap, colliding with a large dark-red mound that stank of old blood and rang with the sound of metal against her body. Applebloom reluctantly opened an eye, the other swollen shut, and looked towards the top of the hillock, where the apparition had begun descending it with deliberate slowness, the first among them, it's leering skull glistening with the filly's blood. This was it, then? A slow rasping cry burgeoned into Applebloom's throat as the creatures closed in further and further. Alberacht Nictus lay in the same spot he had lay for the past three days now, at the very bottom of a ravine. His wounds had already healed, his unnatural constitution refusing to allow him to die, even though he had been sent into the skies of this world by the spiteful Chaos Gods instead of being allowed to die and finally meet his wife and daughter again, in the afterlife. He had fallen through the sky and plummeted to the embrace of this world unforgiving ground. Tzeentch had opened the gates of eternity underneath him and had sentenced Alberacht Nictus to the continuation of his unending life in another world, another time, another existence. He had roared his hatred for Chaos for the first few hours, his broken flesh and bones slowly re knitting. He had cursed the Chaos Gods in a dozen different languages and had alternated between the cultured spoken word of the most read tongue to the intelligible howls and growls of a base beast. But he had not moved. Even now, three days later, he simply lay there, remembering only the days he had spent as a family, Etsuko and Mishka ever by his side. In the distance he could hear the shrieks and howls of creatures he recognized as "Moroi". He had spent enough of his "unlife" amongst the denizens of death to know of such hungering entities, the dammed souls of the spiteful that clung to their withered husks, becoming disgusting physical manifestations of hatred and spite, driven only by the desire to see the life snuffed out of those that had the temerity to live while they had died. He could even hear the shouts and gasping breath of their prey. By sound and pitch it was a little girl. It had no chance. "Moroi" fed on fear as much as on flesh and the only reason it was still alive now was because they enjoyed the hunt. The Varghulf side of him whispered of the hunt. It whispered of the blood it would entail and enticed him to claim that prey as it's own. But he still did not move. Nor would he have even if he were on the verge of starvation. Over the thousand years he had been a vampire, he had slaughtered and butchered untold thousand upon thousands, but never a child. No, never a child. As such, Alberacht merely stood there, hoping that at the very least the child would die quickly and with relatively little pain. The sounds drew closer and closer until, with a shriek of pain and the sound of tumbling down, the child had fallen into the same ravine where he now lay. With a small crump to his side he realized that the girl had collided with his own body. His eyes slowly turned to gaze at the child. In the confines of his mind he could hear the last remnants of his forgotten humanity screaming for him to rise and save the girl, but his black heart was dead and it had been dead for a thousand years. He could feel no pity or sadness, all he could offer her was a witness for her final moments. His eyes widened as he found himself gazing at a child that must have been no more than five, her small body draped in torn and scratched clothes, her tiny head, crowned in a mane of... scarlet... hair. "... Mishka... " Applebloom tried to back away from the encroaching creatures, her wounded thigh gushing with blood, her battered and bruised body thrumming with pain, but the unyielding mound behind her brokered no passage. Corpse-lights blazed from empty eye sockets as the "Moroi" made ready to feast and she wanted to cover her eyes, shock and fear making her unable to do even that. With a rasping parody of an intake of breath the first of the "Moroi" pounced, three skeletal hands aimed at her face, it's fleshless jaws opened for the bounty of flesh it was to receive. The mound behind her suddenly shifted and a massive clawed hand shot out engulfing the "Moroi's" head and snapping it to powder and bony chunks. With the speed and alacrity of quicksilver, the dark-red shape that had been the mound pounced from behind the little filly in a blurring maelstrom of bludgeoning fists, ripping talons and bared teeth. An ululating howl accompanied the gigantic beast, like the bellow of a hundred angered bulls. The creature was massive, the "Moroi's" buckling forms barely reaching his midsection, and he shot out and charged into them, sending ancient stone hardened bone and rotting flesh hurtling onto the ground with reckless, brutal strikes, all the while howling in hatred. "NOT MY MISHKA" Within moments the pack of twelve "Moroi" had been reduced to broken heaps and bone dust in the wind and the creature turned to the shivering form of Applebloom. It moved faster than the eye could follow and it's all encompassing hands engulfed the little filly's shoulders and back. A face, the color and texture of dark gravestone glared at her with white iris-less eyes and a grin filled with dagger fangs. Slowly the grin faded and eyes became downcast. "Not... my... Mishka..." The hands let go and the creature rose only to set itself leaning against a tree. Applebloom lay on the cold ground, to terrified to speak or move, as moments stretched into minutes, her battered body aching and her thigh still bleeding profusely from it's wound. Summoning up the last remnants of her courage, she slowly crawled to the unmoving form of her horrifying savior and said in a small, quivering voice. "P..Please mister... ah need... ah need to get home". Alberacht Nictus Applebloom Hair of CrimsonApplebloom shivered, her tiny form drumming with cold, it's epicenter seeming to stem from the wound that even now throbbed at her thigh. She had bandaged as best as she had been able to, an impromptu first aid made with use of a patch of her frayed shirt. Moreover, as if the wound had not been enough, the speed with which she now moved added even more to the cold. Cradled in the massive arm of the creature that had saved her, it moved through the woods with a speed that would have easily compared to Rainbow Dash, it's massive body tearing through any obstacle that barred it's way. Trees smashed into splinters and grasping bushes of thorns tore apart with almost sad sounding rips as the creature made no effort to avoid them, rather regarded the obstacles as minor inconveniences. Her eyes watering from the biting wind, the little filly dared another look at the creature that now held her. It's face was an amalgam between that of a young man, with the sharp features of a noble-born and the unmistakable trademarks of a wolf. The long fang filled mouth covered with knife-thin lips, the elongated ears that came to points, the way it's eyes glowed in the night. It bordered between irrefutably handsome and horrifically bestial. It's body was no different. A massive creature the color of darkened gravestone, easily twice the height and four times the width of Big Macintosh, nothing but corded muscle. Arms with biceps as boulders ended in long fingered hands tipped with wicked black talons. His hands, arms and head were bare while the rest of his body was encased in a dark red armor that was all spikes and cutting edges, two small openings at the back that allowed two leathery wings. They were furled across his back, wrapping around him and meeting at the base of his neck to form something almost like a cape. By the way a bone stuck out from the joint of the left one, it was clearly broken and the only reason he had not taken flight. The two glowing eyes suddenly snapped to her and she tore her gaze from him quickly, a fresh jolt of shivers racking her tiny frame, the cold being of no blame this time. Slowly his other massive hand rose and interposed itself between the filly and the biting wind. Even though the creature had not spoken a single word to her, even when she had asked for his help, it seemed to want to help her. The air suddenly grew warmer and the atmosphere less oppressive as they came clear of the forest. In the distance Applebloom could see the street lanterns of Ponyville and she smiled widely, already thinking of her family, proper medical care and her warm, ever-cozy bed. "All right. Is everyone ready?" Applejack asked the group that stood assembled near the farm house. Big Mac, Granny Smith, Twilight, Pinkie Pie, Rarity, Rainbow Dash, Spike, even Fluttershy and the other two member of the CMC, Sweetie Belle and Scotaloo, had set faces, determined eyes and they all nodded briskly, each holding a lantern in their hands. Big Mac even hefted his lumber ax in his free hand, his normally calm, collected features racked with concern and eagerness to begin. Twilight had been the one to organize this search party, the moment AJ had ran to her home and told her Applebloom had ran away from home. On a Moonless Night no less. She had quickly called the others and organized this search effort, making sure everyone knew not to stray from each other or make mistakes that could endanger their lives on such a night. "Comon already. Ah'll comb the entire forest 'till i know mah granddaughter's safe in her home where she belongs" muttered Granny Smith passing the other ponies, her bad hip and old age all but forgotten in characteristic Apple family protective nature for their own, her old blunderbuss cradled comfortably in her hands. The entire group began moving at a brisk pace, not wanting to waste a second more, each and every one worried about the little missing filly. Twilight looked to Applejack. The orange pony's pupils were dilated and she was chewing on her bottom lip. The Princess of Friendship could only guess at how worried she was about her little sister. In truth, going into the woods on a Moonless Night was insanely dangerous, even for a group this large, let alone a defenseless little filly. She wanted to say something, to comfort her friend, but she could find no words. "Don't worry Applejack, she's probably at Zecora's. I'm sure she's fine" Spike said, perched on Twilight's shoulders as always. Twilight closed her eyes, a tiny smile at the edge of her mouth. Trust in Spike to always say the right thing at the right time. Applejack turned, a little more relaxed, but still on edge. "Thank ye, little guy. Ah'm sure she is as you sa..." "HEEEY" cried Rainbow Dash suddenly from her vantage point as she flew above the group. They all looked up at her, as she gesticulated for them look back the way they came, and she shot out at top speed back towards the farm. Twilight looked back and her heart rose as she saw the unmistakable shape of a little filly with red hair waving at them. Like a single being, the entire group broke into a run back the way they came, Granny Smith racing past all and dropping the blunderbuss to jump at her granddaughter. The next few minutes were a mishmash of hugs, kisses and tears of relief, as hands came down to pet the little filly's head, and the entire Apple family hugged Applebloom until the sound of bones popping forced them to stop. Then, as it was inevitable to happen, tears of joy became tears of anger and fear as they look closer at her, the fog of relief lifting to reveal the sight of a horribly wounded filly, her body covered in bruises and scratches, one eye swollen shut, a missing front tooth and, worst of all, a deep wound on her thigh. "... and if ya ever pull something like that gain, ah'll personally chain ya to the plow" ended Big Mac in a massively uncharacteristic, and quite explicit, display of verbal castigation that left a Rarity and Fluttershy , busy helping Nurse Redheart to bind and clean Applebloom's wounds, red behind the ears, not used to hearing vulgarity. "I'm... I'm... sure she's awfully sorry... " began Fluttershy, too kind-hearted to bear the sight of the downcast little filly. "I'm sorry sugarcube but Big Mac is right. The silly filly's lucky she escaped, she could've gone an' gotten herself killed" Applejack cut Fluttershy short and then slowly at the edge of the sofa where they had put Applebloom for nurse Redheart to apply first aid. "What in the hay were ya thinkin' girl? It was nothin' but a little scuffle. Yah didn't have ta go on an' do something foolish like that" she added to her little sister, her voice suddenly softer, her eyes moistening with every word. "For a moment there I actually thought I'd lost ya too, like ma' and pa' and it damn near made me keel over. Yah' can't do things like that Applebloom". "THAT WAS IT. AH WASN'T THINKIN'" shouted the little filly "Ah was stupid. Ah said those awful, mean things to you, an' then ah ran like an idiot in the Forest. Ah'm sorry. Ah'm so sorry". Warm tears fell down her face and nose as she cried. The other five girls and the CMC looked at Applejack, their eyes telling her what she already knew. Let it go for now, the girl's been through enough as it is. Applejack sighed and scooped her little sister in a hug. "Ah know sweet filly. Ah know. Just promise ya' ain't gonna do somethin' like that ever again alright? Ah don't know what we'd ever do if somethin' were to happen to ya'" Applebloom looked up at her sister and a tearful smile. "Ah promise, sis. Ah'm sorry". "Darn' tootin she ain't never gonna do somethin' like that ever again" came Granny Smith's voice from her rocking chair by the fire. ""Cause fer the next three months her chore list has just tripled". A few of the girls laughed at the sight of the stunned filly, her mouth agape, clearly wanting to protest but knowing better than to chance the punishment to four months instead of just three. "Ooooh... sorry kiddo" said Rainbow Dash, unable to help herself. "Be that as it may, how in Celestia's name did you escape? Even the Royal Guards don't patrol the woods on a Moonless Night" asked Twilight, her curiosity greater than her mirth. Applebloom quickly snapped her attention to Twilight. "Well... ah was runnin'... was being chased by some awful, skeleton lookin' things and one bit me... and... and when it bit me... ah got so scared ah ran faster than ah've ever had in mah life". Applebloom lied. She couldn't tell them about the thing that had saved her. The way they were now, they were more likely to attack first and ask questions later and from what Applebloom had seen she doubted that even the Elements of Harmony could handle that thing. Twilight nodded her head, eyes closed. "Fear and shock induced adrenaline surge. I've read about it before". Applebloom nodded quickly and sneaked a glance at the window. She could see the barn and the large creature that stood at the top alcove. It retread slowly into the shadows as the sun began to rise. Alberacht lay motionless in the shadows of the alcove, gazing at the procession of creatures that left the farm. They were so similar to humans, yet so different. Their faces were almost muzzled, their bodies were covered with short brightly colored fur and they sported animal-like ears and tails. It was of no matter, in his long unlife Alberacht had seen things that would have broken the minds of lesser vampires, dawi or humans. A world of anthropomorphic animals was the least odd situation he had ever seen. None approached the barn. Good. He did not want to kill any of them, they were clearly close to the scarlet-haired girl, but he did not want to be discovered on anyone's terms but his own, even more. The vampire looked to the red sky of early morning. He had long passed the point where the sun's rays did any real damage to him. Nonetheless, the sun drained him slightly of his powers. Shrugging slightly, the giant warrior drew his wings around him and slowly became one with the shadow, as Ulgu engulfed him and hid him from plain sight. He would sleep for this day and, with the coming of night, would leave the barn and this family well enough alone. The pitter-patter of tiny feet, a sound so slight even a feline would have had trouble distinguishing it, awoke Alberacht. His eyes were drawn to the window and he gazed upon a tiny sneaking, and slightly limping, shape. The scarlet-haired girl. What was she doing? The sun had barely begun setting. Was she planning to go somewhere at night again. His queries were answered as he saw her draw closer to the barn, a small object clutched in her hands. The vampire smirked slightly. It seems even this world was not devoid of treachery. However if this was an attempt to catch him by surprise, it was feeble at best. "Jalnic" he said in native Kislevite as he soundlessly drew to his full twelve foot height, his head almost touching the roof, and walked upon the roof beams, his massive bulk moving with the litheness and grace of a prowling cat. The barn door squawked noisily as the girl entered the darkening structure and started towards the stairs that led to the alcove. Alberacht let himself glide down, precise and quiet as a night owl and landed behind her, only the slight sound of shifting hay announcing his arrival. The girl had not heard it however, and Alberacht simply walked a few more steps in tandem with her. "If you planned to kill me as I slept, might i suggest the mid-day as a better chance for you, albeit slightly" his deep basso voice rumbled. "Eeek" the tiny thing squeaked, taken by surprise and turned to him. Alberacht was curious what tool she was holding. A knife, a hammer or maybe even a flintlock gun. He was not ready, however, to see the small plate of bread, boiled rice and vegetables that the little thing cradled in her arms. His nostrils flared as he caught the scent of the overripe vegetables and the overly boiled mushy rice. It was a shoddy attempt at cooking at best, clearly done by one who had no idea what they were doing. Most likely the girl herself had done the cooking. "O... Oh... sorry... mister... ah didn' mean to wake ya'... Ah just th... thought ya'll would want somethin' to eat". Alberacht grimaced inwardly. He had lost the need or want for any sustenance save fresh blood a long time ago. At this point even the Emperor's own supper with have tasted foul to him. What was worse than that however was that this arrogant little thing had attempted to offer him food. He was Alberacht Nictus, not some hungry, lost pup. He could hunt down his own prey, he did not need it delivered by a weak, little runt. He opened his mouth, a chastising retort ready on his lips. The words stuck in his throat however, as the girl let a sheepish little smile lighten her face. For a moment Alberacht could not see the little pony. He saw only his dearly beloved Mishka. The same light brown eyes, the same missing front tooth, the same fiery scarlet hair, even the same sheepish smile and kind, open attitude. Alberacht snapped out of his reverie with a start and looked once again at the little pony. His white eyes glazed with fresh sorrow as he realized once again that Mishka would never again look up at him with those same light brown eyes. Before he realized it his hand hand slowly grasped the plate and he muttered slowly. "Thank you... for your hospitality". Her tiny face lightened up even more as the ancient vampire accepted her food. He pulled a slice of cucumber from the mass of food and began chewing with his sharpened serrated fangs. His deadened tang had no palette to speak of, but mortal food tasted horrific nonetheless and with great efforts he swallowed the vegetable, if nothing else than to just be able to see this little girl smile like his precious Mishka for few moments longer. "I will abuse of your hospitality for only a few moments longer. I should leave once night completely falls" Her face fell. "Do yah have ta'? Where do ya' live... ah could come visit yah... ah visit Zecora in the forest so ah could visit ya' too". Alberacht smiled. "I am a stranger in these lands little one. I have yet to claim a home". "Than ya can live here 'till ya find one. Ahm sure mah sister wouldn't mind. Ya' did save me after all"she added, the gap-toothed smile once again plastered on her face. How quickly children could turn fear to affection never ceased to impress Alberacht. "It would be best if you did not speak of me to anyone little one. I am not a pleasant sight as you can see and as for your family... I do not believe they would wish their youngest to associate themselves with a monster such as myself. I tank you little one for the offer little one however..." "Applebloom, call me Applebloom mister..." she said quickly extending a tiny hand. Alberacht stifled a chuckle and slowly knelt extending his massive hand. He caught Applebloom hand between two fingers and gently kissed the back of her hand, in the same fashion he had always done for his little Mishka. It had never failed to make his little daughter giggle. "Alberacht" he said and Applebloom giggled at the overly formal salute. Just like little Mishka. "Just think about it, yah could use the barn for as much time as yah need mister Alberacht. Ah'll come tomorrow with another plate, hope ta see yah then too" Applebloom said as she waved him goodbye from the barn doors after an hour's worth of conversation. She closed the large door and sprinted back to the farm house. Alberacht watched the little pony go from the alcove, not wanting to admit to himself that the only reason he did so was to make sure she got there safe. He had always been a bit overprotective of Mishk... no... he mustn't get confused... Applebloom... not Mishka. Applebloom. Alberacht slowly walked the length of the barn and deposited the food he had hidden in the folds of his wings when Applebloom was not looking, in a small hole he made in the soft, hay-covered ground. It did not do to disappoint a young lady, as such he had pretended to eat and enjoy her cooked meal. Alberacht gazed at the moon that shone it's face from the window. It seemed somehow bigger and brighter in this world. Like a thing alive. "Perhaps a few more days here" he muttered to himself and looked around fondly at his temporary home. "Good night little one" he added, to no one in particular. Sweet NostalgiaThe diamond dog howled in a pitiful conglomeration of yelps and cries, the serrated tipped spear it had been wielding now firmly lodged in the dying creature's chest. It grasped futily at the blood slicked haft, making a last attempt at tearing it out only to die drowning in his own blood filled lungs, and joined the dozen other dead, carpeting the grass with their savaged carcasses. The creature responsible for the deaths tore the spear out with a brutal twist and licked it clean of it's gory remains. The pungent aroma of the blood tasted so very interesting, so much like that of man, yet also bearing the unmistakable tang of beastly rawness. It was quite filling. As it savored the sickly-sweet crimson liquid it looked at those seven diamond dogs that still stood before him, their weapons at the ready, shaking like leaves. He could taste their terror almost as much as the blood he was drinking. His gaze hovered especially over the massive, red-furred body of their obvious leader, an almost ten foot gnoll, bloated with muscle, donning the patchwork job of steel and iron plating that made his armor, the pieces themselves as grime and dried blood encrusted as the gnoll's muzzle. The only piece that stood out was the particularly large and sturdy claymore in it's paws, a long hafted, cross-guard two handed weapon that was as much pole-arm as it was sword and shone as clean in the moonlight as if fresh-forged. It had most likely been only recently pilfered from the body of some unfortunate knight or some isolated blacksmith's coffers. Nonetheless, Alberacht had found himself in want of a proper weapon since coming to this world, his massive size making most feel like daggers in comparison. The gnoll saw Alberacht stare at the weapon and immediately lifted it to him. For all it's size and muscle, when it spoke it came as a meek almost pitiful whine. "T-Take it... it's your's... take i-it as... as tribute... and go..." the gnoll said, presenting the claymore, handle first, as he noticed the beast gazing intently at it. "T-take it a-and just go, leave us be". Alberacht's face contorted in a disgusted grimace. He would have taken the blade anyway but what sport and satisfaction was there in simply being offered something. The vampire had always fought for everything he owned and, as his father had told when he had been but a lad, anything gained without effort is not worth gaining. "Do you know why it is that i hunt you?" He asked as he slowly walked towards them. The gnoll froze, mouth ajar, weapon still outstretched. "Your band, the Canine Marauders, have committed murders, theft, arson, and other, worse things. So much so that there is now a substantial bounty on your heads" The smell of sweat from the shivering gnoll was so pungent as to be almost palpable. "So that is it.. ha... you may disguise your actions under a pretense of justice but bounty hunters are as bad as us. You kill for money just like we do. S-So is that it?... you'll kill us for a few gold coins and justify it as killing us for our crimes?" Alberacht rested his hand on the greatsword's pommel and smiled warmly to the gnoll. "That would be hypocritical of me, since the crimes i have done in my long life are far more numerous and abhorrent than yours. I make no attempt to mask why i will kill you. Not for justice. I will butcher you for a few gold coins. I will slaughter you for a few petty trinkets. But, more importantly..." Veins began swelling on his forehead and temples as Alberacht's eyes blazed with manic fury and his jaw widened horrifically to make room for growing dagger teeth. From a warm smiling, noble featured gentleman to a barbaric mix between man, wolf and raven, the nightmarish visage that looked upon the remaining brigands proclaimed. "More importantly, i will kill you because you have kidnapped and ended the lives of children. And that is something even a monster like myself, will not tolerate". With that, Alberacht pushed on the pommel, the claymore's edge slicing through the paralyzed groll's paw and throat. He regarded the remaining diamond dogs with hungry eyes and began towards them, all the while humming an ancient Kislevite dirge from the days of his human life. Alberacht stroked the raven's head with a clawed finger as it fed on the remains of this night's victims. He had always left something for the crows and ravens and this night was no different. The gnoll's paw had flesh enough to satiate a flock of the familiar creatures. The ancient vampire smiled warmly as he locked eyes with the Raven's black orbs, and he whispered. "No matter what you eat or hunt, always leave something for Father Raven and Mother Crow. For when Old Man Winter comes, they always remain". An old saying of ancient Kislev, spoken from generation to generation since the days of the very first Ungol tribes themselves. No matter the centuries of unlife, Alberacht would always remain a Kislevite at heart. The raven cawed happily and resumed worrying on it's bounty of fresh meat while Alberacht's eyes strayed from side to side on the all to familiar alley he now sat waiting in. It was a secluded place, yet Alberacht knew it's every nook and cranny, for it had served as his hiding spot within the town these... creatures... called Ponyville, whenever Alberacht had needed to await that day's chosen thrall to take the bounty's heads to the sheriff's office and bring him back the reward. It was both annoying and time-consuming but the preferable variant to being seen. In the month he had been in this strange world, only little Applebloom had been made privy to his existence and lived, and Alberacht intended to keep it that way for a while longer. For all his animalistic ferocity and varghulf blood hunger, he still had a veteran's mind and a warlord's tactical prowess, and was not arrogant enough to simply make his presence public before understanding this new world completely. He caught the thrall's scent before hearing her steps and rose from the shelter of the night's dark alcove. Barely a timid sliver of moonlight shone into the alleyway, but it was more than enough for the vampire, and he could see every fold on the clothes and every intake of air as the thrall entered the isolated alleyway. She was a thin little thing, tall and lanky, dressed head to toe in heavy furs, her face kept in darkness by a large barrow hat, her pelt, a light grey and her eyes yellow. They had been facing different sides even before Alberacht had dominated her will. He had mistaken her for a fool by her eyes and had believed the girl would be easy to dominate and put under his control. Instead he had found himself in a battle of wills, the petite girl's sheer determination and self control exceeding that of some veteran generals of his own world. Derpy Hooves put the bag of bounty money on the ground before Alberacht and looked at him with the glassy, hollow gaze of a "Dominate" victim. He made a small signal and she returned the disguise of pelts, furs and hat. Alberacht had given this disguise to every pony he had dominated. After all, this was a small hamlet and they all seemed to know each other. It waould have roused supicion to see their baker, innkeep or mail... mare... suddenly take up bounty hunting. The girl was once again clothed only in the shirt and pants she had worn when he had dominated her, earlier that night. Like all her kind, she was an odd creature, humanoid, yet bearing a pelt of short fur, a slightly elongated muzzle, pony ears and tail, reminding greatly of the beastmen of his world. Yet these creatures held none of the reek of Chaos and mutation that permeated the beastmen. Quite the contrary, the air around them seemed purer by virtue of their mere presence, glowing with the gentle light of innocence, so antithetical to his own. He would have even gone as far as to characterize the females of this race as fairly attractive. The girl before him, a slender yet still shapely figure, well worked muscles moving fluidly beneath her grey pelt, ample chest and two large, beautiful eyes, exquisite enough that any man would have been hard pressed not to be somewhat enamored with such a beauteous visage. But Alberacht had forsworn the touch of another woman since the death of his beloved Etsuko, and he had decided long ago to be as faithful to her in death as he had been in life. A slight weight on his left shoulder broke him from the burgeoning memories of the earth-bound angel Etsuko had been and brought him back to reality. He locked eyes with the Raven's black orbs and whispered Father Raven's wisdom. "Drink in honor of the past but do not let it be your present" Gold coins jingled as Alberacht took a handful and put them in a satchel. As he leaned in close to loop it around the hypnotized girl's shoulder he caught the scent of the blood coursing through her veins. It held the same draw a perfectly aged wine would hold for a gourmand and it was all the vampire could do to give the satchel and quickly retreat. "You will return to your home. You shall remember nothing of this night, nor shall you question this gold now in your possession. It is by right of name and deed that I, Alberacht of the Nictus Rota, command you and it is by that right that I release you.. Go with the Raven, willful one". Derpy Hooves turned and began walking back to her house, giving not another glance to the gigantic warrior in the depths of the alley. Alberacht grabbed the boulder-sized sack of gold bits and unfurled his great leathery pinions, taking to the sky in soundless flight. The varghulf side of him chastised Alberacht, condemning him for a weakling, roaring that it was unbecoming for the Reaper of Sylvania to forego such a bounty of lifeblood. It was beaten to submission by the remaining strands of his humanity. He would not risk gaining a taste of pony-kin blood and lose control around Applebloom. The little filly who reminded him so much of Mishka, was to never see his "mask" fall and behold the monster he truly was. Speaking of Applebloom, he had to hurry. The moon was reaching it's zenith and it would not do to keep a young lady waiting. Twilight walked alongside Applejack through the well-lit main road of Ponyville. Even though their little town had always been a fairly safe little place to live in, they would have never thought to simply walk alone at almost midnight without a single iota of concern. Diamond-dog brigands, pony thieves, Kelpie kidnappers and Griffon crime barons, like any country, Equestria had it's own issues, and sometimes said issues would be felt even in the small town of Ponyville. A peace-loving, rich country, Equestria would draw in alchemists, magic users and medics from other countries, but also the dregs of other societies. As such, while it had grown in power and wealth, the forests and mountains of Equestria had become more and more unsafe. Yet in the past few weeks a dramatic change had taken place. The Bloodfeather Griffon Band, Xin-Hua's kelpies, Halan Gata's Hell Hounds and many other bands of brigands and criminals had been completely ended, for lack of a better word. "Amazing" Twilight thought aloud. "Wha' was that sugarcube?" asked Applejack, busily chewing on the business end of a strand of hay. "Oh sorry. Just talking out loud" she answered only to continue, prodded by her friend's quizzical look. "I said it was amazing. A month ago we wouldn't have been walking so casually this late at night. Crime's virtually gone in Ponyville and the amount of bandits in the Everfree Forest and Blue Stone Hills are at an all time low. We really ought to get Pinkie to throw whoever's been doing this a party". Applejack chewed a bit more forcefully on her strand of hay, an almost disgusted grimace on her face. "Ah dunno 'bout that Twi. Granny Smith's been talkin' to the sheriff an' he told her it's always the same pony comin' in to claim the bounties. Someone always covered by furs an' a large hat, never speakin', never showin' their face, jus' arrives at night, brings in the baddies and holds out their hand for the reward bits". "Brings in the baddies? How can only one pony bring a whole band without incident?" "Well, honestly that's the worst part 'bout this pony. The sheriff said that this... bounty hunter... always brings the baddies in a burlap sack. And never in one piece". She added and drew her finger across her neck. Twilight went white as she understood the not so subtly hidden meaning behind AJ's words and gulped audibly. "... Well... guess we should be glad that pony's on our side then... right"? AJ shrugged slightly, and shivered unconsciously. Twilight couldn't blame the tall mare. She hadn't described a bounty hunter, but a head hunter. "Ah'm guessin' he or she's the type who doesn't really read the - Dead or Alive - part in the wanted posters" she added with finality. "Gos-po-da-ri-ni" "nyi" "...nie..." "... close. Now try it, little one" "...oisha gospodarinie..." said the red haired little filly and thrust a tiny fist into the air. Alberacht chuckled and clapped his massive hands twice. "Very good copila, we'll make a proper Kislevite out of you yet" "Mister Alberacht say it again... correctly... i really want to learn it" she asked and looked at him with a pair of heart melting eyes. So much like Mishka. Alberacht chuckled again and stroked her mane like a weary grandfather. "Oysia Gispodarinyi" his deep basso voice carrying the battle chant to every corner of the barn. Ballots of hay muffled the sound and prevented any outside from hearing them. "What does it mean?" Alberacht thought for a few moments, then answered. "It has no literary meaning copila, it's an old Kislevite saying that symbolizes - nock another arrow, strike another blow, kill another foe. And before Old Man Winter claims you, have another drink. For the Oblast. - it is a saying as old as the Ungol tribes zimushka, but it rings in the heart of every Kislevite". Applebloom nodded fervently her eyes hungry for more stories. "And copila"? "It means - little one - " The little filly puffed her cheeks in indignation. She mumbled to herself "Not that little" and turned her head. Alberacht laughed uproariously. Mishka had used to do the same. He picked her small hand in between two taloned fingets and kissed it. "But of course, how inconsiderate of me. You are already five winters old, why i daresay you are but a few more away from being a full grown woma... mare" Applebloom crossed her arms and puffed up her chest in pride, oblivious to the gentle sarcasm in the vampire's voice. "That's right" she added, nodding her head in a paroxism of maturity, only to immediately revert to her childish wonderment. "Now tell me more of Kislev and the Ungols". Alberacht ruffled her mane gently, his young, handsome features belying the ancient wisdom in his eyes and the kind of affection only a father can offer. "I believe that is enough for the night copila, you have been here for the past three hours, devouring story after story. I can smell your elder sister approaching your home and we would not want her to not find you in your bed". Appleblooms eyes fell and her shoulders slumped. Such a child. Alberacht knelt and lowered his head heavily to bring his eyes level with her's. "Be good and patient copila, the Raven tells us - tomorrow always comes - and when it does, i shall tell you the legends of Tzarina Mishka and Tzar Alexei". Her eyes lit up with juvenile happiness and she made to leave. Before going however, she turned quickly and gave the giant warrior a peck on the cheek. She ran to the barn door, waving goodbye and disappeared from sight. Alberacht sat there for a few moments more. Mishka had used to do the same thing. The same mannerisms, the same curious and innocent nature, the same look of genuine affection from those same light brown eyes. Had he not known better he could have sworn that the filly was his beloved daughter's doppelganger. Alberacht Nictus dug his talons into the palm of his hand until brackish blood spurted from the wound. No. They were different. His daughter had died a long time ago. He had buried her and Etsuko's bodies into the frozen earth of the oblast with his own hands and had cried and howled at their gravestones for a month. He must not get confused. His mind had partially devolved into that of a varghulf a long time ago and it was easy for him to get confused. Even so, it was hard sometimes to truly see Applebloom as her own person. Far too often he could see only Mishka looking back at him. Alberacht walked the steps into the barn's roof and looked through the window. His vampiric sight easily found the small shape of the tiny filly, sneaking back to her home. "It is impolite to intrude upon one's seclusion unannounced. I trust even this world has a grasp upon the concept of manners" he said as two scents ended his introspection. A trapdoor in the roof opened and two shapes glided in. Alberacht turned slowly and stood, silent and waiting as the shapes that had entered his "sanctuary" examined him from head to toe. They were beautiful by any stretch of the word, even though they bore the trademarks of their race, the slightly elongated muzzles, the short fur covering their bodies, the pony ears and tails. These apparitions specifically bore both wings and each sported a long horn protruding from their mane obstructed foreheads. Yet for all those "alien" elements, they still had bodies akin to those of human women and their poise and elegance set them apart as royalty, giving them both an aura of beauty that would have easily put them on par with the fabled Aladrielle of Ulthuan or Morathi of Naggaroth. One was covered in pearlescent white fur and her long, multi-hued mane flowed around her voluptuous curves like a thing alive. She held the gorgeous enticement of a mature, experienced woman, the kind that could be found only in greatest of queens. The second was the midnight blue of the night's sky, her mane a lighter shade of azure, bearing the nubile beauty of a young adult, her shapes somewhat petite when compared to her companion but boasting a different, yet equal, kind of beauty. She was the visage of a warrior princess, an amazon woman, functionality and prowess given beauteous form. These two held foremost the poise and practiced composure of born royalty and, when adding their physical aspect into consideration, it would have made the greatest of kings or the most blood hungry of warlords lose their breaths and minds in awe of such manifestations of aesthetic perfection. When the white furred one spoke, her voice came as sweet as the finest honeyed wine of Brettonia but also holding the experience of centuries and the rawness of power and authority. "You were expecting us?" Alberacht disliked being discovered on terms other than his own, but was not arrogant enough to see it as impossible. He simply pointed to the moon. The parlescent shape shone like an eye in the night sky. "Than thou hast noticed the moon look back whenever thou gazes upon it" said the blue one in heavily archaic speech. Alberacht nodded once. They remained in silence until the white one spoke again. "We know you have killed the roving bands and criminals around Ponyville and Equestria. We have seen you do it and ensorcel our subjects into collecting the bounties. May I ask what need would one as strong as yourself have of currency"? "You may not" he said with a tone of calculated indifference, meant to neither offend nor show deference. It was the kind of tone nobility and royalty in particular, hated, for it ground on their over inflated sense of self worth. The pony simply smiled, a warm, geniuine smile. She knew this game well, and would not be the first to attack. "You could simply take what you need. You have more than the necessary strength and savagery". She added and, when no response came, she looked to a seemingly inconspicuous pile of old, rusted, farming utensils and mold eaten sacks of sand. "Or is it that you are collecting it for a certain someone... or rather... somepony". Alberacht's face did not move, nor did his eyes show any hostility. In the space it took for a heart to beat, the vampire drew the gnoll's claymore from it's hiding place within his folded wings and balanced it easily in his hand. Even though his face did not change, nor did he even whisper a sound, the air suddenly clogged with threat. Her assumption had been correct. Beneath the clutter, buried underneath the dirt lay a large bag containing a king's ransom in bounty rewards. He had initially intended to use it for himself but over this past month he had come to the decision that it would be a gift to Applebloom as payment for her kindness. It was enough gold to purchase land ten times the amount the Apple family already owned and a sizable manor in what the ponies called "Canterlot". Yet Alberacht would not miss a single coin of it. As the white furred one had said, he could simply take what he needed. "Will this charade trudge until we are but dust? Let us end the games and begin the battle"he rumbled. The white furred one shook her head slowly and looked to her blue furred companion. "A man of few words, but when he speaks it always holds good purpose" the younger of the two said. "I do not know for certain if we would be able to subdue him if it comes to blows, sister". "It will come to no such thing" the white alicorn said and lifted her hands in gesture of peace. "We are not here to seek conflict, warrior. We are here simply to ascertain your purpose and your intent. You have shown no ill will to our own, on the contrary, you have taken an almost guardian role towards one of our littlest. For a man of such few words, you speak at great lengths to Applebloom". She ended her statement with a grateful, almost motherly grin. "It is usually common courtesy to introduce oneself before asking such questions" the vampire rumbled in his deep basso, changing the subject. He did not want to admit his weakness towards the little filly. He could not hide it from himself but there was no need for these srangers to know more than they already did. The white alicorn took a deep bow. "I am Princess Celestia of the Sun. Pleased to make your acquaintance". The blue one approaced and did the same. "Princess Luna of the Moon. Pleased to make your acquaintance". Alberacht looked at them for a few moments longer and took a small bow, his hand on his chest, in archaic Kislevite tradition. "Alberacht of the Nictus Rota. Reaper of Sylvania and Grand Master of the Drakenhof Templars. Father Raven guide you. I have been sent here when i should have died. It was neither my choice nor my desire. I bear no ill will towards you and yours, nor do i have dreams of conquest. My way is simple. Do not stand before me and live. Challenge me and die". Celestia nodded. "Simple, succinct and concise. Thank you for speaking with us. If what you say is true, there is no need for us to be enemies". Alberacht raised an eyebrow. "What reason would i have to lie? If my desire was to kill you, i would have made no attempt to hide it". She took a few steps and began circling the massive vampire. Although she was tall for a pony, Celestia barely reached his lower chest and his bicep was almost as wide as her midsection. "Direct. For a man as articulate as yourself to be so stoic, it is a shame". "Words are wind, deeds are stone" he rumbled. "Well said" Celestia nodded. Now that he had been confirmed as not an immediate enemy she examined him from head to toe, not with the wary, calculated precision she had done so mere moments before. But instead, with an almost hungry interest. Alberacht had seen that same look upon many a woman's face, including Tzarina Katarin. Queen or no, a woman still had a woman's needs and Celestia was the same. Alberacht had no doubt that this immortal princess had bedded multiple partners over her long life and had now set her sights on him. She had forgone paltry flirting or annoying banter, and had made her intent clear and unmistakable. A woman who knew what she wanted and was determined to get it, a woman accustomed to being in control. He could almost smile. This pony royalty reminded him so much of the women of Kislev. Direct, fiercely independent and passionate to a fault, one could nowhere in the world find a more loyal wife and a more capable companion at arms than the women of Kislev. Alberacht found himself gaining a new found respect for this Celestia. But, respect or no, queen or goddess, Alberacht had forsaken the pleasures of the flesh since the death of his precious Etsuko, and he was not about to rescind on his vows now. As such he did not stop Celestia from looking but neither did he reciprocate her attentions. Celestia looked him up and down once more and took a step back. There was no hostility or disappointment over her unreciprocated intentions, just a resigned acceptance that this was a battle she had lost. On the other hand, the war was not done, and she seemed like the kind who would try again and again. "Of course you must understand that we shall be keeping an eye on you for the time being" she began, pointing to the moon. "I will be watching especially close" she added with a wink and the double meaning was not lost on Alberacht. "It is your kingdom, do as you wish" he rumbled, replacing the claymore in the folds of his wings and crossing his arms. Both the subtle warnings and the not so subtle innuendos were beginning to chafe at his nerves. A month before he would have ripped their throats for simply daring to approach his "sanctum", but now he abstained from such action for the simple reasoning of "Applebloom would not approve of it". He took a short bow and turned his back, signalling his unwillingness to continue any further discussion. A flutter of wings told him of their departure. Alberacht gazed at the moon, unconsciously running his finger along the razor edge of the claymore. He had openly threatened the diarchs of this strange land and yet there had been no conflict, no presumption of guilt, quite the opposite, an acceptance of the different and, in Celestia's case, an "appreciation" of the different. He was beginning to understand why little Applebloom had warmed to him so quickly. She had grown up in an environment that could foster only kindness and acceptance. This world was not an utopia, far from it. Monsters, bandits and undead roamed the forests and deepest crags of this world, much like in his own. But these... ponies... dealt with such problems without letting themselves be corrupted by hate and savagery in turn. The veteran in him scoffed in contempt at their innocence, the varghulf snarled at the perceived weakness of it all. But the remaining human in him respected them for it. "Sometimes there is need for a greater monster to end the smaller ones" he muttered to himself and smiled as he saw the moon gaze back at him. This was a statement that did not seem to apply to these little ponies.
The End and the Beginning"GAAA-HA-HA-HAA" The laughter came in as something in between an ululating howl and a semblance of human speech and it echoed through the dark woods of Sylvania like a thing of form and life, rendering even the blood-maddened Northmen silent by virtue of the underlining insanity that permeated it. The barbarian Norscan and Kurgan tribesmen, so used to the screaming, terrified masses of the Empire, so enamored with the scent of fear and the terror brimming in the eyes of any Empire army they faced, stopped dead and could do nothing short of stare at the creature that howled with a joy that would have dwarfed even the most zealotic devotee of the Blood God Khorne himself. Fear. Fear of death. Fear of pain. Fear, that emotion which was such an integral weapon in the arsenal of the Lost Ones, the followers of the Chaos Gods, found no purchase upon the soul of the creature they faced. Creator and former Grand Master of the Drakenhof Templars, the Reaper of Sylvania, the beast made manifest, Alberacht Nictus had lost the ability to feel fear centuries ago. All that could give him solace these days was the sweet thundering joy of battle, as sweet upon his tongue as the coppery tang of blood he so readily partook in. Although distorted by his devolution into a Varghulf, his features still held a semblance of the once handsome twenty-seven year old noble he had been all those many years ago, before he had been turned into a vampire. For the first few centuries, he had still been handsome, frozen in time as a young noble, but he had enjoyed the hunt too much and had glutted himself too readily on the lifeblood of his prey. It was the fate of those children of the night who took to the beast and the blood too much to devolve into a Varghulf, their mind lost to the baser instincts and desires, barely more than oversized bats. Where other vampires had become Varghulf, losing their minds as their bodies engorged and turned monstrous, Alberacht had ever been to willful, too determined, too loyal, to allow himself to fall to such depths. His body had grown, his muscles had swelled and his features had somewhat disfigured under the tender mercies of the beast within all vampires, but his mind was still his own. Addled, insane and greatly prone to the manic frenzy of the beast, but his own, nonetheless. The great pinions of leathery flesh, rivaling the wingspan of a royal griffon, that made the wings upon his back beat at the chill night air, keeping both his muscle-bloated bulk in the air as he surveyed the battlefield. His body alone, a horrific amalgam between that of a bat, human and wolf, a third of a ton of pure, steel-chord like muscle flexed as he mentally chose the next to die spitted upon his talons. The archaic armor he wore, a gift from his father-in-death, Vlad von Carstein himself, sharpened interlocking plates the color of dried blood, gleamed sisterly in the moon's pale light. His heavy two handed Kriegsmesser, a weapon of such size and weight even the elite greatsword-wielders of the Empire would have been hard pressed in using, lay in a relaxed one handed grip in Alberacht Nictus's right hand. A first generation vampire, over a millennium old, Alberacht had seen the world. In his time he had faced everything from trolls, orcs and Giants to even Bloodthirsters of Khorne, so famed for their killing prowess. A veteran of such magnitude could only look upon the seemingly endless army of Northmen arrayed beneath him with contempt. Behind silvery strands of hair, his long mane caught in a single braid resting on his shoulder and reaching his midsection, white eyes without irises regarded the Northmen with the scrutiny of an apex predator. With a collective roar, goaded by their chieftains, the army of Northmen charged anew the narrow cliff side of the Ebony Stairs, their howling oaths and curses cut short as they spit themselves upon the eerily silent guardians of Drakenhof Castle. Dressed in tattered and freshly ripped finery, the dead-eyed and slack-faced risen dead did not break nor scream as the Northmen collided with their pikes and shields. Like a well-oiled machine, the dead pushed as one, throwing the undisciplined mass of marauders and raiders back, their spears thrusting and "palos" long swords falling. The part of Alberacht's brain that could still appreciate irony chuckled darkly as he looked at the scene unfolding beneath him. For so many years, the corrupt nobility of Sylvania had bled the province dry of resources and harassed the peasantry, it was only fitting for them to die defending it. Whether they wanted to or not. He had educated the current day nobility In his day, nobles had standards and responsibilities. He had butchered them all and risen them as mindless automata to defend the Castle. Alberacht had never been fond of necromancy, had barely ever used such magics in his thousand year long unlife. It was too impersonal, too cowardly. However that did not mean he was not good at it. Raising and maintaining an army of over six hundred nobles and petty barons was child's play to him. Indeed, it was something he had already relegated to his subconscious mind as he readied himself to surge into the barbarians once more and break them on discipline's altar. None could reason what fresh madness had possessed Alberacht's mind, but as feared as he was for his fighting prowess and vicious abandon, the Reaper of Sylvania was known also for his unpredictability and rabid loyalty for his province and the von Carstein bloodline. When all other vampires had fled, driven away by the encroaching horde of Chaos worshippers, Alberacht had stayed. In an act of apparent insanity he had slaughtered the entirety of Sylvania's nobility and opened the gates of Drakenhof Castle to the peasants and common folk of the province. He had even openly defied and challenged Neferata herself, the progenitor of the Lahmian bloodline knowing better than to dare the lunatic mind of the Reaper of Sylvania. Now that very same peasentry and common folk stood on the ramparts hurling sling, arrow and musket shot at the Chaos horde, determined to defend their families to the bitter end. The ancient vampire smiled to himself. Finally, the valor and unyielding nature Sylvania had been famed for in his day had emerged anew. If the current nobility was incapable of it, the common folk were more than capable. With a mental effort he plucked at the strands of Shysh from the aethyr and channeled the Wind of Death into the Corpse Geometries, raising the freshly fallen northmen to add their strength to his dead nobility. Barbarians howled in rage as they were forced to fight against their own warriors, now nothing more than thralls to the Reaper of Sylvania's will. Sending the maintenance of the Corpse Geometries to his subconscious mind, Alberacht plummeted to his chosen target. A horn-helmed giant of a man, his long beard braided with charms and fetishes, a Jarl or chieftain by his posture, pointed and ordered his three equally large bodyguards to the Reaper. Alberacht smashed into the first bodyguard like a falcon, his foot caving in the fool's breastplate like tin. The other two came howling, their axes whirling in their hands. They were obviously veterans, worthy warriors in their own right, but to Alberacht they looked as slow and weak as children. His Kriegsmesser licked out like a viper's tongue beheading one only to slice to the ax haft and throat of the second. He flourished the heavy weapon with the speed and grace a veteran duelist would flourish a rapier, muscles the size of boulders and cultivated over a thousand battlefields, making the weapon feel as light as a feather in his hand. Throughout the encounter his face never lost it's regal stoicism and practiced indifference. The bearded northman stood before him and with a challenging roar he charged the gigantic Varghulf. As big as the chieftain was, he barely reached Alberacht's lower chest and was just shy of being half as wide as the shoulders as the vampire was. The mask fell instantly and Alberacht's regal poise and noble features twisted into a berserk grimace and twisted grin, fangs the size of dirks splaying to form a horrific death's head smile. Vampires naturally tried to hide the beast from the features but Alberacht had become too much of a Varghulf and waltzed with the beast far too often to be bothered by such masquerading anymore. A good and brave opponent always made him smile and he saw no reason to deny himself that. Enormous biceps powered his thick wristed hand into the chieftain's banded iron shield. Iron hard fingers tipped with long talons pierced through the ill-forged metal and, with a short tug, the leather straps of the shield split apart and the northman lost his shallow defense. Laughing wildly, Alberacht brought his Kriegsmesser in a blurring arc and chopped through the blade of the northman's ax. His weapon broken and shieldless, the northman could only scream as the Reaper's mouth opened and caught his throat. Alberacht drank deeply of the northman's blood while shaking the warrior with the ease and viciousness that a hunting hound would shake a rabbit. Another cry shook him out of his blood induced reverie and he dropped into a crouch, dodging a shrieking ax while, in the same fluid motion, slicing the feet from the disease bloated champion of Nurgle that had wielded said ax. Without wasting another moment he brought his heavy boot down upon the screaming barbarian and ended his struggles. His armor groaned with strain as Alberacht's frame grew and already massive muscles swelled even more. His features grew more lupine, his fang filled maw slowly extending until it started to resemble a wolf's muzzle. The ecstasy-inducing change made Alberacht howl to the sky as he appreciated the sublime beauty of battle. His Varghulf nature came out more and more, what paltry mask of humanity had been left in the ancient vampire becoming more superficial by the second. The beastly vampire charged the mass of chaos warriors again, froth spewing from his mouth, bellicose laughter thundering from his chest. He bulled through a shield wall, his talons and blade turning all around him to ruin. Northmen and Kurgan died clasping ravaged throats or trying to hold spewing guts from their bellies. Mutated ogres of the Wastes howled their last as their heads and bodies crumpled around the Reaper's strikes. Chosen champions of the Chaos Gods, both those whose names had just begun to rise in their masters eyes and veterans bloated with the gifts of their unholy lords died as chattel to the slaughter house. Alberacht tossed and pivoted, jumped and charged, his style changing from step to step. He struck out with the precise strokes of the Nippon samurai, charged with the stoicism and unbreakable poise of the Zhufbaraki dwarfs and pounced with the sheer bloodlust that would have made the savage Ulfwerenar quiver in their pelts. Sanity and insanity warred for the dominion of his mind and the vampire enjoyed the clash, the constant tug-of-war. With a mental strain, Alberacht beat the beast back into submission. Not yet, first he had to find worthy prey. Then he would fully rampage. His taloned hand shot out, shattering a wooden shield and grabbed the northman behind it by his bone braided beard. With a swift tug, he lifted the howling barbarian of his feet and pulled him in, while simultaneously smashing his forehead forwards. The barbarian fell back, his head split like a rotten egg. A horned giant, thirty foot tall, moaned idiotically as it made to grab for the vampire. Alberacht sliced it's fingers off with indifference and the giant's jaw soon followed suit as the Reaper swept pass it, his wings unfurled, and eyed a proper source of information. Targeting another chieftain, clad in black iron plate, Alberacht surged forward. His two housecarls died within moments, yelling as the Reaper's sword sliced them to ribbons and the chieftain could only howl as the vampire's taloned hand engulfed his head. With resounding cracks, his great wings unfurled and Alberacht took once more to the sky, his prey struggling futily in his massive fist. The creature brought the struggling northman close to his face. Eyes that up to that point had belonged to a veteran regarded the vampire with the fear of a child even as his gauntleted fists scratched futily at Alberacht gravestone colored flesh. With a cry of despair, the chieftain slashed at Alberacht with his hand ax only to drop it in utter shock as it barely scored the stone hard muscles of the Reaper's forearm. Alberacht sighed. It was only common courtesy for a defeated warrior to stop their useless struggles, but it would have been too much to expect from the base barbarians of the far North. His muscles flexed as he slowly, methodically began crushing the warlord's skull. A single word, more growled than spoken, escaped the vampire's lips. "Where is your strongest?" The chieftain stammered and yelled but offered no answer. His famed temper already running on embers, Alberacht dug his talons deeper into the man's face and asked again. "Where... is... your strongest?" he asked, punctuating every word with a bone shattering squeeze. The warrior raised his shaking arm to a spot roughly six hundred feet from where they hovered in the air, in the middle of the main fighting force of the northmen. A round no-man's land where no northman dared to pass stood out, the air around it seeming to shimmer and twist. With the chieftain being of no more interest or use, Alberacht shattered his skull with a lazy squeeze of his massive fist and let the body fall into the mass of Chaos worshipers. Grasping at the wind of Ulgu, the Shadow Wind, Alberacht looked again at the spot, this time seeing through the magical glamour that had rendered the spot all but invisible to the naked eye. He could see three shapes, magic coalescing around them, and a fourth one, a creature so enshrouded and bloated with power that it dwarfed the three put together. Like the whisper of the wind, the name came to him, born upon the winds of the aethyr. "Kholek Suneater" Alberacht's face split into a wolfish grin so complete, it would have been excusable for any that gazed upon him to mistake him with the avatar of Ulric, the wolf-god himself. With a massive beat of his wings, Alberacht plummeted like a hunting falcon into the no-man's land. A thousand years of battle had made his flesh as tough as gravestone and his bones as strong as iron, and as such his impact with the unfortunate souls that stood before the illusionary wall came with the force that would have equaled even one of the famed Empire great cannons. Laughing and frothing at the mouth, all pretense of civility and nobility forgotten, Alberacht Nictus became a whirlwind of destruction as he advanced upon the aethyric wall. His Kriegsmesser licked out to behead and disembowel even as his talons tore heads from necks and shattered spines and chests. In but a few heartbeats, almost a dozen northmen had become mewling, broken flesh upon the ground. The Reaper pivoted a final time, his hand grasping at the wind of Ulgu and wielding it like a thing of shape and form, forming upon his clenched fist like a ball of darkness. He smashed the spell into the aethyric wall, breaking both the illusion and the shield with such force that the backlash tore at the mind of one of the three sorcerers maintaining it, shattering his skull to nothing more than shards of bone and brain matter. The other two reeled back, the first, a Kurgan witch-doctor, her face a mass of piercings and tribal tattoos and the second, a hunchbacked and horribly mutated Norscan war-shaman, his ten eyes rolling with confusion. Even before the shaman could think of a spell to launch at the monstrous apparition before them, Alberacht covered the space between them in the blink of an eye and his blade fell, splitting the man from crest to groin in a single perfect stroke. The Kurgan woman fared little better, the shadowy creatures that launched from her staff, all mouth and fangs, striking nothing than air as Alberacht evaded each one with a the speed and fluidity of a dire wolf, something that should have not been possible for one with a body so massive. Her spell-shrieking turned into a dying gurgle, her throat torn cleanly out by the vampire's fangs. He pivoted once more and beheaded the falling corpse, stopping perfectly to face the creature Alberacht had chosen as his prey. A five ton monstrosity, it's mammoth body a gruesome amalgam between the lower quarters of a dragon and the upper body of a humanoid, the Dragon Ogre Shaggoth whose name had been whispered in fear since the dawn of time, Kholek Suneater gazed at the vampire with open disdain. Second only to Krakanrok the Black, Sire of the Dragon Ogres, Kholek Suneater, the Mountain Lord was one of the oldest and most feared creatures that had ever walked the world. The skull-rune of Khorne, the Blood God, emblazoned his chest marking him as one of the Mad God's favored scions. A bone rattling bellow was the only challenge Kholek offered and the monster hefted it's great hammer, the earth underneath it cracking and sizzling with discharged lightning as it charged Alberacht. Grinning wildly, Alberacht took to the skies, his bestial mind, possessed by animal cunning, making choices instinctively rather than rationally. Shaggoth or no, all the dragon ogres had the same strategy. They hurled the lightning that empowered them through the earth before trampling their enemies to the ground. How of little use it was against an enemy that could fly. Plummeting once more, Alberacht launched a blizzard of blows with his Kriegsmesser against the monster. It retaliated with it's own human sized hammer, sparks flying where the weapons met as the two monsters became a blur of motion and the sound of steel, their bodies moving impossibly fast for creatures of such size. The monster strength and size of Kholek clashed with the raw brutality of Alberacht and they found one another evenly matched. The part of Alberacht's mind that could still reason appreciated the challenge Kholek was offering him. For all his twelve feet of height, he barely reached the middle of Kholek's prodigious belly. A lesser vampire would have been dominated immediately but for Alberacht it was nothing more than a larger mass of flesh to cut and rip. Kholek trampled the ground even as he swung, arcs of lightning coursing through the ground and his hammer, flowing through Alberacht's muscle swollen body. The vampire bit through the pain and used it only to fuel his growing anger, his body growing ever larger and more lupine with every surge of agonizing electricity. Slowly Kholek was pushed back, as the strikes he had to defend against grew faster and harder, the blade thrusting under or over his guard to scrape against his flesh or glance against his armor. The mammoth creature roared it's disbelief and, in a surge of bestial fury that rivaled Alberacht's, charged forward. His shoulder was split open by a taloned hand but Kholek surged onward and plunged the haft of his great hammer into the vampire chest. Archaic armor crumpled and flesh was crushed but the Reaper of Sylvania stood unbowed. A massive fist connected with the side of Kholek's face, shattering the oversized helmet it wore and sending shards of black iron deep into the meat and bone of the Dragon Ogre's face. Howling, Kholek spun, bringing it's scaly tail about to hamstring the vampire. Alberacht jumped while simultaneously launching with his greatsword and talons for the Dragon Ogre's back. Iron armor split under the strength of the attack and warm draconic blood spilled. But the bulk of the creature was enough to sustain the damage it had been dealt and Kholek ended it's spin with an overhead swipe of his hammer. It connected with Alberacht's side in a explosion of blunt force and lightning that would have crumpled a giant's bones. But Alberacht was one of the oldest vampires, whose only profession over the past millennia had been warfare. He pivoted with the force of the blow and took the hit, spinning in a mimic of Kholek's own attack and slicing a deep gash into the dragon ogre's chest. The Dragon Ogre reeled from the force of the blow and Alberacht, grinning maniacally, grabbed the haft of his Kriegsmesser with both hands and the heavy blade bit deep into Kholek's thick bally plate, striking into the muscled flesh beneath. A howling roar split the heavens as Kholek, blazing lightning shrouding his form, cried out and brought it's hammer to bear. The front of Alberacht's armor broke into shrapnel that tore into his flesh and his neck gorget shattered into metallic splinters. Even as the vampire was lifted off his feet, his bloodshot eye caught the glint of his locket as it snapped from the thin chain around his neck and opened to reveal the two thumb sized paintings hidden within it. The beast whinnied and slunk back as time seemed to slow around Alberacht and the pain of flesh dissipated only to make way for the pain of the heart. The image of the ebony haired, pale beauty of the right painting reminded him of his beloved wife of so long ago. The Nipponian princess, Etsuko, he had fought for in the grand Kumite in Nippon. He had defeated all opponents and won the right to ask for her hand in marriage. He remembered how he had loved her and how she had loved him. They had been two opposites, she, a petite saint of incredible kindness and possessed of a heart so warm it could melt the ice of Kislev and he, a bear sized man, rugged and unbending, a general of Empire armies famed and respected at the tender age of twenty. He recalled her grief when they had realized that she could bear him no children. He remembered his rage as he had beheaded the Sylvanian advisers and nobles that had dared imply that he should find another wife or concubine that could bear him children. He had killed them all for daring to assume that he would ever betray the love of his world. Even now, one thousand years later, Etsuko long passed on, he had never betrayed her. As much as the first image filled his mind with memories and his black heart with love, the second did just as much. A scarlet haired child graced the second painting, the artist having gone so far as to paint the missing tooth the five year old child had had when she had posed for the portrait. Little Mishka. The red headed angel had appeared upon the doorstep of Drakenhof Castle like a gift from the gods. Orphaned, crying and swaddled in grey blankets, the baby had been abandoned by her mother in the Castle's Servant Quarters when only a few months old. Etsuko and Alberacht had taken to the child immediately and raised her as their own. Alberacht had even named her as Mishka Nictus, a name of his Kislevite heritage and his own family line. Any who had dared refer to the girl as a bastard child had faced the bulwark of Alberacht's overprotective anger. How he had loved those two. How they had been the light of his life. His wife and daughter. How he had raged as he had returned from the war campaign only to find his beloved girls dead, killed at the hands of Chaos worshipers. How he had cursed the Chaos Gods and harried their cultists. How he had tortured those few he had captured alive, his mind slowly falling to madness with each passing day. How he had howled with joy when he had been turned unto the path of eternity by Vlad von Carstein. How he had pledged his eternal loyalty when Vlad had given him the means and the eternal life to forever slake his thirst against those that followed Chaos Gods. Rage and grief as fresh as the day he had found his beloved wife and daughter cold and dead filled him and remorse faded to make way for the beast that returned howling and claimed once again dominion over his mind. Feral instinct and cultured hatred grabbed hold of his heart and the world snapped back into reality. Kholek thundered towards him in a rabid charge even as Alberacht still flew, propelled by the impact of the Dragon Ogre's hammer. The Reaper of Sylvania threw out a hand and loped the locket around his massive wrist. He twisted in on himself, his wings closed flatly against his back and landed on his feet. The Kriegsmesser still stuck in the monster's gut, Kholek charged into Alberacht's shoulders, with the sound of a cannon ball slamming against a fortress wall. Alberacht moved not an inch, his clawed feet digging into the cold stone for purchase as inertia and the immovable object the vampire had become forced the greatsword to it's hilt into the monster's gut, coming out his back in a spray of gore. With and audible snap, the vampire's shoulder disconnected. Kholek's pain shriek was cut short by Alberacht's fist, as iron hard knuckles crumpled it's overgrown face into mush, cartilage and bone breaking along with dagger sized tusks. Using the momentum of his counter, Alberacht looped his arm around the Shaggoth's neck and, muscles bulging like slabs of steel and veins standing out like ropes, in a supreme show of force lifted the five ton creature of it's draconic feet and crushed it to the ground in a spray of stone and dust. Muscles bulged once more and his shoulder audibly popped back into it's socket as Alberacht tilted his head and grabbed the haft of the Shaggoth's hammer. He lifted the massive weapon over his head and grinned evilly. "Your Gods are weak" he rasped. Pain turned to hatred in the Dragon Ogre's beady eyes and the prone creature howled to the skies in a final act of defiance. The Chaos Gods answered the plea in the form of a shard of jade lightning that struck Alberacht with a thunderclap. His teeth bared, his flesh charred and his muscles twitching, Alberacht opened his mouth and laughed. "GAHAHAHA, SO VERY WEAK" and he struck down with the hammer. The hammer connected with the screaming Dragon Ogre's skull, shattering it to grime and gristle, ending the legacy of one of the most feared and primal creatures of the world, in one fell swoop. The heavy weapon slowly slid from his hands and Alberacht slowly began falling on his back. "Etsuko, Mishka, I am coming home... my sweet ones". But even as he fell, Alberacht knew it would not be so. The Chaos Gods did not accept to be cheated of their victories and like a sheath of skin over a gangrenous wound, the faint outline of an entity so horrific it could not be described, faded in and out of the sky. An infinite number of mouths smiled hatefully and whispered the thousand names of the Grand Architect, Tzeentch. Final rest would not be allowed to the warrior who had seen fit to end one of Chaos's favored sons. The world opened up like a maw beneath him. A thousand times a thousand worlds lay in wait, their gates opened wide, in a thousand times a thousand possibilities and realities as the wheel of destiny made it's turns. Albericht howled as he fell through. Applebloom ran through the Everfree forest, her small hands cut by thorns, her tiny feet struggling to give her as much speed as possible How could she have been so stupid. Of any day or night she could have chosen to enter the Everfree Forest, she had made the mistake of entering it on the Moonless Night. Old things. Malevolent things. Things older than Celestia, Luna and even Equestria herself lay in the Everfree Forest and it was upon such nights that they emerged, hungry and unforgiving. Apllebloom's scarlet hair flailed around her terrified eyes, as the trees screamed behind her. "Stupid, stupid girl" she yelled to herself, every step sending white hot knives of pain through her exhausted muscles, every gasp of breath like boiling steam in her tired lungs, her yellow pelt of fur and clothes slick and heavy with cold sweat. She would die here, she knew it, and the last thing her family would remember her by would be her stupid little sister's quarrel she had had with Applejack. Instead of a fond farewell, a heart warming "Thank now", all they would remember would be Applebloom yelling "Stop tryin' ta act like mother, yah'll never be her", and the sight of her back as she had ran away from home. Even as she ran, another apparition sauntered at the very edge of her sight, coalescing as if from the very shadows of the Forest themselves. It's glowing white form was such a contrast with the dark gloom of the woods, it's white flowing mane so alight it would have made stars weep tears of jealousy, it's face so motherly and beautiful it would have made Celestia herself seem blanched and haggard, it's slender form shrouded in a dress so thin it looked more like mist quilted into shape. Applebloom darted to her right, her frame racked with crying hiccups, her eyes screwed shut, refusing to look at the change she knew was coming. She did not want to have to see again the angelic mare's ivory hair fall into clumps and harden, her beautiful face shrivel and rot into a leering skull, eye-holes blazing with corpse-light and shimmering dress rip apart to reveal a hideous and malformed bony construct with far too many skeletal limbs to be natural. She could not however, blot out the sound of it's shrieks as it joined the other apparitions hounding her, howling a call somewhere between a cackling, sepulchral laugh and the hunger growls of starving wolves. All she could do was run, knowing more and more that with every step the apparitions were gaining on her, eager to feast and devour, to rend and tear, to rip the very life out of her. A scream of utter pain escaped her mouth as one of the apparitions pounced, barely missing the back of her head, only for it's fleshless teeth to rip a deep wound into her thigh. Flesh ripped and bone fractured under the abomination's bite, shock and pain making the little filly crash to the moss covered ground of the Forest, momentum rolling her from the monstrosities grasping, skeletal hands into a deep ravine. She rolled down the large hillock, her tiny frame bruising heavily as it impacted wayward branches and boulders and landed in a heap, colliding with a large dark-red mound that stank of old blood and rang with the sound of metal against her body. Applebloom reluctantly opened an eye, the other swollen shut, and looked towards the top of the hillock, where the apparition had begun descending it with deliberate slowness, the first among them, it's leering skull glistening with the filly's blood. This was it, then? A slow rasping cry burgeoned into Applebloom's throat as the creatures closed in further and further. Alberacht Nictus lay in the same spot he had lay for the past three days now, at the very bottom of a ravine. His wounds had already healed, his unnatural constitution refusing to allow him to die, even though he had been sent into the skies of this world by the spiteful Chaos Gods instead of being allowed to die and finally meet his wife and daughter again, in the afterlife. He had fallen through the sky and plummeted to the embrace of this world unforgiving ground. Tzeentch had opened the gates of eternity underneath him and had sentenced Alberacht Nictus to the continuation of his unending life in another world, another time, another existence. He had roared his hatred for Chaos for the first few hours, his broken flesh and bones slowly re knitting. He had cursed the Chaos Gods in a dozen different languages and had alternated between the cultured spoken word of the most read tongue to the intelligible howls and growls of a base beast. But he had not moved. Even now, three days later, he simply lay there, remembering only the days he had spent as a family, Etsuko and Mishka ever by his side. In the distance he could hear the shrieks and howls of creatures he recognized as "Moroi". He had spent enough of his "unlife" amongst the denizens of death to know of such hungering entities, the dammed souls of the spiteful that clung to their withered husks, becoming disgusting physical manifestations of hatred and spite, driven only by the desire to see the life snuffed out of those that had the temerity to live while they had died. He could even hear the shouts and gasping breath of their prey. By sound and pitch it was a little girl. It had no chance. "Moroi" fed on fear as much as on flesh and the only reason it was still alive now was because they enjoyed the hunt. The Varghulf side of him whispered of the hunt. It whispered of the blood it would entail and enticed him to claim that prey as it's own. But he still did not move. Nor would he have even if he were on the verge of starvation. Over the thousand years he had been a vampire, he had slaughtered and butchered untold thousand upon thousands, but never a child. No, never a child. As such, Alberacht merely stood there, hoping that at the very least the child would die quickly and with relatively little pain. The sounds drew closer and closer until, with a shriek of pain and the sound of tumbling down, the child had fallen into the same ravine where he now lay. With a small crump to his side he realized that the girl had collided with his own body. His eyes slowly turned to gaze at the child. In the confines of his mind he could hear the last remnants of his forgotten humanity screaming for him to rise and save the girl, but his black heart was dead and it had been dead for a thousand years. He could feel no pity or sadness, all he could offer her was a witness for her final moments. His eyes widened as he found himself gazing at a child that must have been no more than five, her small body draped in torn and scratched clothes, her tiny head, crowned in a mane of... scarlet... hair. "... Mishka... " Applebloom tried to back away from the encroaching creatures, her wounded thigh gushing with blood, her battered and bruised body thrumming with pain, but the unyielding mound behind her brokered no passage. Corpse-lights blazed from empty eye sockets as the "Moroi" made ready to feast and she wanted to cover her eyes, shock and fear making her unable to do even that. With a rasping parody of an intake of breath the first of the "Moroi" pounced, three skeletal hands aimed at her face, it's fleshless jaws opened for the bounty of flesh it was to receive. The mound behind her suddenly shifted and a massive clawed hand shot out engulfing the "Moroi's" head and snapping it to powder and bony chunks. With the speed and alacrity of quicksilver, the dark-red shape that had been the mound pounced from behind the little filly in a blurring maelstrom of bludgeoning fists, ripping talons and bared teeth. An ululating howl accompanied the gigantic beast, like the bellow of a hundred angered bulls. The creature was massive, the "Moroi's" buckling forms barely reaching his midsection, and he shot out and charged into them, sending ancient stone hardened bone and rotting flesh hurtling onto the ground with reckless, brutal strikes, all the while howling in hatred. "NOT MY MISHKA" Within moments the pack of twelve "Moroi" had been reduced to broken heaps and bone dust in the wind and the creature turned to the shivering form of Applebloom. It moved faster than the eye could follow and it's all encompassing hands engulfed the little filly's shoulders and back. A face, the color and texture of dark gravestone glared at her with white iris-less eyes and a grin filled with dagger fangs. Slowly the grin faded and eyes became downcast. "Not... my... Mishka..." The hands let go and the creature rose only to set itself leaning against a tree. Applebloom lay on the cold ground, to terrified to speak or move, as moments stretched into minutes, her battered body aching and her thigh still bleeding profusely from it's wound. Summoning up the last remnants of her courage, she slowly crawled to the unmoving form of her horrifying savior and said in a small, quivering voice. "P..Please mister... ah need... ah need to get home". Alberacht Nictus Applebloom
Hair of CrimsonApplebloom shivered, her tiny form drumming with cold, it's epicenter seeming to stem from the wound that even now throbbed at her thigh. She had bandaged as best as she had been able to, an impromptu first aid made with use of a patch of her frayed shirt. Moreover, as if the wound had not been enough, the speed with which she now moved added even more to the cold. Cradled in the massive arm of the creature that had saved her, it moved through the woods with a speed that would have easily compared to Rainbow Dash, it's massive body tearing through any obstacle that barred it's way. Trees smashed into splinters and grasping bushes of thorns tore apart with almost sad sounding rips as the creature made no effort to avoid them, rather regarded the obstacles as minor inconveniences. Her eyes watering from the biting wind, the little filly dared another look at the creature that now held her. It's face was an amalgam between that of a young man, with the sharp features of a noble-born and the unmistakable trademarks of a wolf. The long fang filled mouth covered with knife-thin lips, the elongated ears that came to points, the way it's eyes glowed in the night. It bordered between irrefutably handsome and horrifically bestial. It's body was no different. A massive creature the color of darkened gravestone, easily twice the height and four times the width of Big Macintosh, nothing but corded muscle. Arms with biceps as boulders ended in long fingered hands tipped with wicked black talons. His hands, arms and head were bare while the rest of his body was encased in a dark red armor that was all spikes and cutting edges, two small openings at the back that allowed two leathery wings. They were furled across his back, wrapping around him and meeting at the base of his neck to form something almost like a cape. By the way a bone stuck out from the joint of the left one, it was clearly broken and the only reason he had not taken flight. The two glowing eyes suddenly snapped to her and she tore her gaze from him quickly, a fresh jolt of shivers racking her tiny frame, the cold being of no blame this time. Slowly his other massive hand rose and interposed itself between the filly and the biting wind. Even though the creature had not spoken a single word to her, even when she had asked for his help, it seemed to want to help her. The air suddenly grew warmer and the atmosphere less oppressive as they came clear of the forest. In the distance Applebloom could see the street lanterns of Ponyville and she smiled widely, already thinking of her family, proper medical care and her warm, ever-cozy bed. "All right. Is everyone ready?" Applejack asked the group that stood assembled near the farm house. Big Mac, Granny Smith, Twilight, Pinkie Pie, Rarity, Rainbow Dash, Spike, even Fluttershy and the other two member of the CMC, Sweetie Belle and Scotaloo, had set faces, determined eyes and they all nodded briskly, each holding a lantern in their hands. Big Mac even hefted his lumber ax in his free hand, his normally calm, collected features racked with concern and eagerness to begin. Twilight had been the one to organize this search party, the moment AJ had ran to her home and told her Applebloom had ran away from home. On a Moonless Night no less. She had quickly called the others and organized this search effort, making sure everyone knew not to stray from each other or make mistakes that could endanger their lives on such a night. "Comon already. Ah'll comb the entire forest 'till i know mah granddaughter's safe in her home where she belongs" muttered Granny Smith passing the other ponies, her bad hip and old age all but forgotten in characteristic Apple family protective nature for their own, her old blunderbuss cradled comfortably in her hands. The entire group began moving at a brisk pace, not wanting to waste a second more, each and every one worried about the little missing filly. Twilight looked to Applejack. The orange pony's pupils were dilated and she was chewing on her bottom lip. The Princess of Friendship could only guess at how worried she was about her little sister. In truth, going into the woods on a Moonless Night was insanely dangerous, even for a group this large, let alone a defenseless little filly. She wanted to say something, to comfort her friend, but she could find no words. "Don't worry Applejack, she's probably at Zecora's. I'm sure she's fine" Spike said, perched on Twilight's shoulders as always. Twilight closed her eyes, a tiny smile at the edge of her mouth. Trust in Spike to always say the right thing at the right time. Applejack turned, a little more relaxed, but still on edge. "Thank ye, little guy. Ah'm sure she is as you sa..." "HEEEY" cried Rainbow Dash suddenly from her vantage point as she flew above the group. They all looked up at her, as she gesticulated for them look back the way they came, and she shot out at top speed back towards the farm. Twilight looked back and her heart rose as she saw the unmistakable shape of a little filly with red hair waving at them. Like a single being, the entire group broke into a run back the way they came, Granny Smith racing past all and dropping the blunderbuss to jump at her granddaughter. The next few minutes were a mishmash of hugs, kisses and tears of relief, as hands came down to pet the little filly's head, and the entire Apple family hugged Applebloom until the sound of bones popping forced them to stop. Then, as it was inevitable to happen, tears of joy became tears of anger and fear as they look closer at her, the fog of relief lifting to reveal the sight of a horribly wounded filly, her body covered in bruises and scratches, one eye swollen shut, a missing front tooth and, worst of all, a deep wound on her thigh. "... and if ya ever pull something like that gain, ah'll personally chain ya to the plow" ended Big Mac in a massively uncharacteristic, and quite explicit, display of verbal castigation that left a Rarity and Fluttershy , busy helping Nurse Redheart to bind and clean Applebloom's wounds, red behind the ears, not used to hearing vulgarity. "I'm... I'm... sure she's awfully sorry... " began Fluttershy, too kind-hearted to bear the sight of the downcast little filly. "I'm sorry sugarcube but Big Mac is right. The silly filly's lucky she escaped, she could've gone an' gotten herself killed" Applejack cut Fluttershy short and then slowly at the edge of the sofa where they had put Applebloom for nurse Redheart to apply first aid. "What in the hay were ya thinkin' girl? It was nothin' but a little scuffle. Yah didn't have ta go on an' do something foolish like that" she added to her little sister, her voice suddenly softer, her eyes moistening with every word. "For a moment there I actually thought I'd lost ya too, like ma' and pa' and it damn near made me keel over. Yah' can't do things like that Applebloom". "THAT WAS IT. AH WASN'T THINKIN'" shouted the little filly "Ah was stupid. Ah said those awful, mean things to you, an' then ah ran like an idiot in the Forest. Ah'm sorry. Ah'm so sorry". Warm tears fell down her face and nose as she cried. The other five girls and the CMC looked at Applejack, their eyes telling her what she already knew. Let it go for now, the girl's been through enough as it is. Applejack sighed and scooped her little sister in a hug. "Ah know sweet filly. Ah know. Just promise ya' ain't gonna do somethin' like that ever again alright? Ah don't know what we'd ever do if somethin' were to happen to ya'" Applebloom looked up at her sister and a tearful smile. "Ah promise, sis. Ah'm sorry". "Darn' tootin she ain't never gonna do somethin' like that ever again" came Granny Smith's voice from her rocking chair by the fire. ""Cause fer the next three months her chore list has just tripled". A few of the girls laughed at the sight of the stunned filly, her mouth agape, clearly wanting to protest but knowing better than to chance the punishment to four months instead of just three. "Ooooh... sorry kiddo" said Rainbow Dash, unable to help herself. "Be that as it may, how in Celestia's name did you escape? Even the Royal Guards don't patrol the woods on a Moonless Night" asked Twilight, her curiosity greater than her mirth. Applebloom quickly snapped her attention to Twilight. "Well... ah was runnin'... was being chased by some awful, skeleton lookin' things and one bit me... and... and when it bit me... ah got so scared ah ran faster than ah've ever had in mah life". Applebloom lied. She couldn't tell them about the thing that had saved her. The way they were now, they were more likely to attack first and ask questions later and from what Applebloom had seen she doubted that even the Elements of Harmony could handle that thing. Twilight nodded her head, eyes closed. "Fear and shock induced adrenaline surge. I've read about it before". Applebloom nodded quickly and sneaked a glance at the window. She could see the barn and the large creature that stood at the top alcove. It retread slowly into the shadows as the sun began to rise. Alberacht lay motionless in the shadows of the alcove, gazing at the procession of creatures that left the farm. They were so similar to humans, yet so different. Their faces were almost muzzled, their bodies were covered with short brightly colored fur and they sported animal-like ears and tails. It was of no matter, in his long unlife Alberacht had seen things that would have broken the minds of lesser vampires, dawi or humans. A world of anthropomorphic animals was the least odd situation he had ever seen. None approached the barn. Good. He did not want to kill any of them, they were clearly close to the scarlet-haired girl, but he did not want to be discovered on anyone's terms but his own, even more. The vampire looked to the red sky of early morning. He had long passed the point where the sun's rays did any real damage to him. Nonetheless, the sun drained him slightly of his powers. Shrugging slightly, the giant warrior drew his wings around him and slowly became one with the shadow, as Ulgu engulfed him and hid him from plain sight. He would sleep for this day and, with the coming of night, would leave the barn and this family well enough alone. The pitter-patter of tiny feet, a sound so slight even a feline would have had trouble distinguishing it, awoke Alberacht. His eyes were drawn to the window and he gazed upon a tiny sneaking, and slightly limping, shape. The scarlet-haired girl. What was she doing? The sun had barely begun setting. Was she planning to go somewhere at night again. His queries were answered as he saw her draw closer to the barn, a small object clutched in her hands. The vampire smirked slightly. It seems even this world was not devoid of treachery. However if this was an attempt to catch him by surprise, it was feeble at best. "Jalnic" he said in native Kislevite as he soundlessly drew to his full twelve foot height, his head almost touching the roof, and walked upon the roof beams, his massive bulk moving with the litheness and grace of a prowling cat. The barn door squawked noisily as the girl entered the darkening structure and started towards the stairs that led to the alcove. Alberacht let himself glide down, precise and quiet as a night owl and landed behind her, only the slight sound of shifting hay announcing his arrival. The girl had not heard it however, and Alberacht simply walked a few more steps in tandem with her. "If you planned to kill me as I slept, might i suggest the mid-day as a better chance for you, albeit slightly" his deep basso voice rumbled. "Eeek" the tiny thing squeaked, taken by surprise and turned to him. Alberacht was curious what tool she was holding. A knife, a hammer or maybe even a flintlock gun. He was not ready, however, to see the small plate of bread, boiled rice and vegetables that the little thing cradled in her arms. His nostrils flared as he caught the scent of the overripe vegetables and the overly boiled mushy rice. It was a shoddy attempt at cooking at best, clearly done by one who had no idea what they were doing. Most likely the girl herself had done the cooking. "O... Oh... sorry... mister... ah didn' mean to wake ya'... Ah just th... thought ya'll would want somethin' to eat". Alberacht grimaced inwardly. He had lost the need or want for any sustenance save fresh blood a long time ago. At this point even the Emperor's own supper with have tasted foul to him. What was worse than that however was that this arrogant little thing had attempted to offer him food. He was Alberacht Nictus, not some hungry, lost pup. He could hunt down his own prey, he did not need it delivered by a weak, little runt. He opened his mouth, a chastising retort ready on his lips. The words stuck in his throat however, as the girl let a sheepish little smile lighten her face. For a moment Alberacht could not see the little pony. He saw only his dearly beloved Mishka. The same light brown eyes, the same missing front tooth, the same fiery scarlet hair, even the same sheepish smile and kind, open attitude. Alberacht snapped out of his reverie with a start and looked once again at the little pony. His white eyes glazed with fresh sorrow as he realized once again that Mishka would never again look up at him with those same light brown eyes. Before he realized it his hand hand slowly grasped the plate and he muttered slowly. "Thank you... for your hospitality". Her tiny face lightened up even more as the ancient vampire accepted her food. He pulled a slice of cucumber from the mass of food and began chewing with his sharpened serrated fangs. His deadened tang had no palette to speak of, but mortal food tasted horrific nonetheless and with great efforts he swallowed the vegetable, if nothing else than to just be able to see this little girl smile like his precious Mishka for few moments longer. "I will abuse of your hospitality for only a few moments longer. I should leave once night completely falls" Her face fell. "Do yah have ta'? Where do ya' live... ah could come visit yah... ah visit Zecora in the forest so ah could visit ya' too". Alberacht smiled. "I am a stranger in these lands little one. I have yet to claim a home". "Than ya can live here 'till ya find one. Ahm sure mah sister wouldn't mind. Ya' did save me after all"she added, the gap-toothed smile once again plastered on her face. How quickly children could turn fear to affection never ceased to impress Alberacht. "It would be best if you did not speak of me to anyone little one. I am not a pleasant sight as you can see and as for your family... I do not believe they would wish their youngest to associate themselves with a monster such as myself. I tank you little one for the offer little one however..." "Applebloom, call me Applebloom mister..." she said quickly extending a tiny hand. Alberacht stifled a chuckle and slowly knelt extending his massive hand. He caught Applebloom hand between two fingers and gently kissed the back of her hand, in the same fashion he had always done for his little Mishka. It had never failed to make his little daughter giggle. "Alberacht" he said and Applebloom giggled at the overly formal salute. Just like little Mishka. "Just think about it, yah could use the barn for as much time as yah need mister Alberacht. Ah'll come tomorrow with another plate, hope ta see yah then too" Applebloom said as she waved him goodbye from the barn doors after an hour's worth of conversation. She closed the large door and sprinted back to the farm house. Alberacht watched the little pony go from the alcove, not wanting to admit to himself that the only reason he did so was to make sure she got there safe. He had always been a bit overprotective of Mishk... no... he mustn't get confused... Applebloom... not Mishka. Applebloom. Alberacht slowly walked the length of the barn and deposited the food he had hidden in the folds of his wings when Applebloom was not looking, in a small hole he made in the soft, hay-covered ground. It did not do to disappoint a young lady, as such he had pretended to eat and enjoy her cooked meal. Alberacht gazed at the moon that shone it's face from the window. It seemed somehow bigger and brighter in this world. Like a thing alive. "Perhaps a few more days here" he muttered to himself and looked around fondly at his temporary home. "Good night little one" he added, to no one in particular.
Sweet NostalgiaThe diamond dog howled in a pitiful conglomeration of yelps and cries, the serrated tipped spear it had been wielding now firmly lodged in the dying creature's chest. It grasped futily at the blood slicked haft, making a last attempt at tearing it out only to die drowning in his own blood filled lungs, and joined the dozen other dead, carpeting the grass with their savaged carcasses. The creature responsible for the deaths tore the spear out with a brutal twist and licked it clean of it's gory remains. The pungent aroma of the blood tasted so very interesting, so much like that of man, yet also bearing the unmistakable tang of beastly rawness. It was quite filling. As it savored the sickly-sweet crimson liquid it looked at those seven diamond dogs that still stood before him, their weapons at the ready, shaking like leaves. He could taste their terror almost as much as the blood he was drinking. His gaze hovered especially over the massive, red-furred body of their obvious leader, an almost ten foot gnoll, bloated with muscle, donning the patchwork job of steel and iron plating that made his armor, the pieces themselves as grime and dried blood encrusted as the gnoll's muzzle. The only piece that stood out was the particularly large and sturdy claymore in it's paws, a long hafted, cross-guard two handed weapon that was as much pole-arm as it was sword and shone as clean in the moonlight as if fresh-forged. It had most likely been only recently pilfered from the body of some unfortunate knight or some isolated blacksmith's coffers. Nonetheless, Alberacht had found himself in want of a proper weapon since coming to this world, his massive size making most feel like daggers in comparison. The gnoll saw Alberacht stare at the weapon and immediately lifted it to him. For all it's size and muscle, when it spoke it came as a meek almost pitiful whine. "T-Take it... it's your's... take i-it as... as tribute... and go..." the gnoll said, presenting the claymore, handle first, as he noticed the beast gazing intently at it. "T-take it a-and just go, leave us be". Alberacht's face contorted in a disgusted grimace. He would have taken the blade anyway but what sport and satisfaction was there in simply being offered something. The vampire had always fought for everything he owned and, as his father had told when he had been but a lad, anything gained without effort is not worth gaining. "Do you know why it is that i hunt you?" He asked as he slowly walked towards them. The gnoll froze, mouth ajar, weapon still outstretched. "Your band, the Canine Marauders, have committed murders, theft, arson, and other, worse things. So much so that there is now a substantial bounty on your heads" The smell of sweat from the shivering gnoll was so pungent as to be almost palpable. "So that is it.. ha... you may disguise your actions under a pretense of justice but bounty hunters are as bad as us. You kill for money just like we do. S-So is that it?... you'll kill us for a few gold coins and justify it as killing us for our crimes?" Alberacht rested his hand on the greatsword's pommel and smiled warmly to the gnoll. "That would be hypocritical of me, since the crimes i have done in my long life are far more numerous and abhorrent than yours. I make no attempt to mask why i will kill you. Not for justice. I will butcher you for a few gold coins. I will slaughter you for a few petty trinkets. But, more importantly..." Veins began swelling on his forehead and temples as Alberacht's eyes blazed with manic fury and his jaw widened horrifically to make room for growing dagger teeth. From a warm smiling, noble featured gentleman to a barbaric mix between man, wolf and raven, the nightmarish visage that looked upon the remaining brigands proclaimed. "More importantly, i will kill you because you have kidnapped and ended the lives of children. And that is something even a monster like myself, will not tolerate". With that, Alberacht pushed on the pommel, the claymore's edge slicing through the paralyzed groll's paw and throat. He regarded the remaining diamond dogs with hungry eyes and began towards them, all the while humming an ancient Kislevite dirge from the days of his human life. Alberacht stroked the raven's head with a clawed finger as it fed on the remains of this night's victims. He had always left something for the crows and ravens and this night was no different. The gnoll's paw had flesh enough to satiate a flock of the familiar creatures. The ancient vampire smiled warmly as he locked eyes with the Raven's black orbs, and he whispered. "No matter what you eat or hunt, always leave something for Father Raven and Mother Crow. For when Old Man Winter comes, they always remain". An old saying of ancient Kislev, spoken from generation to generation since the days of the very first Ungol tribes themselves. No matter the centuries of unlife, Alberacht would always remain a Kislevite at heart. The raven cawed happily and resumed worrying on it's bounty of fresh meat while Alberacht's eyes strayed from side to side on the all to familiar alley he now sat waiting in. It was a secluded place, yet Alberacht knew it's every nook and cranny, for it had served as his hiding spot within the town these... creatures... called Ponyville, whenever Alberacht had needed to await that day's chosen thrall to take the bounty's heads to the sheriff's office and bring him back the reward. It was both annoying and time-consuming but the preferable variant to being seen. In the month he had been in this strange world, only little Applebloom had been made privy to his existence and lived, and Alberacht intended to keep it that way for a while longer. For all his animalistic ferocity and varghulf blood hunger, he still had a veteran's mind and a warlord's tactical prowess, and was not arrogant enough to simply make his presence public before understanding this new world completely. He caught the thrall's scent before hearing her steps and rose from the shelter of the night's dark alcove. Barely a timid sliver of moonlight shone into the alleyway, but it was more than enough for the vampire, and he could see every fold on the clothes and every intake of air as the thrall entered the isolated alleyway. She was a thin little thing, tall and lanky, dressed head to toe in heavy furs, her face kept in darkness by a large barrow hat, her pelt, a light grey and her eyes yellow. They had been facing different sides even before Alberacht had dominated her will. He had mistaken her for a fool by her eyes and had believed the girl would be easy to dominate and put under his control. Instead he had found himself in a battle of wills, the petite girl's sheer determination and self control exceeding that of some veteran generals of his own world. Derpy Hooves put the bag of bounty money on the ground before Alberacht and looked at him with the glassy, hollow gaze of a "Dominate" victim. He made a small signal and she returned the disguise of pelts, furs and hat. Alberacht had given this disguise to every pony he had dominated. After all, this was a small hamlet and they all seemed to know each other. It waould have roused supicion to see their baker, innkeep or mail... mare... suddenly take up bounty hunting. The girl was once again clothed only in the shirt and pants she had worn when he had dominated her, earlier that night. Like all her kind, she was an odd creature, humanoid, yet bearing a pelt of short fur, a slightly elongated muzzle, pony ears and tail, reminding greatly of the beastmen of his world. Yet these creatures held none of the reek of Chaos and mutation that permeated the beastmen. Quite the contrary, the air around them seemed purer by virtue of their mere presence, glowing with the gentle light of innocence, so antithetical to his own. He would have even gone as far as to characterize the females of this race as fairly attractive. The girl before him, a slender yet still shapely figure, well worked muscles moving fluidly beneath her grey pelt, ample chest and two large, beautiful eyes, exquisite enough that any man would have been hard pressed not to be somewhat enamored with such a beauteous visage. But Alberacht had forsworn the touch of another woman since the death of his beloved Etsuko, and he had decided long ago to be as faithful to her in death as he had been in life. A slight weight on his left shoulder broke him from the burgeoning memories of the earth-bound angel Etsuko had been and brought him back to reality. He locked eyes with the Raven's black orbs and whispered Father Raven's wisdom. "Drink in honor of the past but do not let it be your present" Gold coins jingled as Alberacht took a handful and put them in a satchel. As he leaned in close to loop it around the hypnotized girl's shoulder he caught the scent of the blood coursing through her veins. It held the same draw a perfectly aged wine would hold for a gourmand and it was all the vampire could do to give the satchel and quickly retreat. "You will return to your home. You shall remember nothing of this night, nor shall you question this gold now in your possession. It is by right of name and deed that I, Alberacht of the Nictus Rota, command you and it is by that right that I release you.. Go with the Raven, willful one". Derpy Hooves turned and began walking back to her house, giving not another glance to the gigantic warrior in the depths of the alley. Alberacht grabbed the boulder-sized sack of gold bits and unfurled his great leathery pinions, taking to the sky in soundless flight. The varghulf side of him chastised Alberacht, condemning him for a weakling, roaring that it was unbecoming for the Reaper of Sylvania to forego such a bounty of lifeblood. It was beaten to submission by the remaining strands of his humanity. He would not risk gaining a taste of pony-kin blood and lose control around Applebloom. The little filly who reminded him so much of Mishka, was to never see his "mask" fall and behold the monster he truly was. Speaking of Applebloom, he had to hurry. The moon was reaching it's zenith and it would not do to keep a young lady waiting. Twilight walked alongside Applejack through the well-lit main road of Ponyville. Even though their little town had always been a fairly safe little place to live in, they would have never thought to simply walk alone at almost midnight without a single iota of concern. Diamond-dog brigands, pony thieves, Kelpie kidnappers and Griffon crime barons, like any country, Equestria had it's own issues, and sometimes said issues would be felt even in the small town of Ponyville. A peace-loving, rich country, Equestria would draw in alchemists, magic users and medics from other countries, but also the dregs of other societies. As such, while it had grown in power and wealth, the forests and mountains of Equestria had become more and more unsafe. Yet in the past few weeks a dramatic change had taken place. The Bloodfeather Griffon Band, Xin-Hua's kelpies, Halan Gata's Hell Hounds and many other bands of brigands and criminals had been completely ended, for lack of a better word. "Amazing" Twilight thought aloud. "Wha' was that sugarcube?" asked Applejack, busily chewing on the business end of a strand of hay. "Oh sorry. Just talking out loud" she answered only to continue, prodded by her friend's quizzical look. "I said it was amazing. A month ago we wouldn't have been walking so casually this late at night. Crime's virtually gone in Ponyville and the amount of bandits in the Everfree Forest and Blue Stone Hills are at an all time low. We really ought to get Pinkie to throw whoever's been doing this a party". Applejack chewed a bit more forcefully on her strand of hay, an almost disgusted grimace on her face. "Ah dunno 'bout that Twi. Granny Smith's been talkin' to the sheriff an' he told her it's always the same pony comin' in to claim the bounties. Someone always covered by furs an' a large hat, never speakin', never showin' their face, jus' arrives at night, brings in the baddies and holds out their hand for the reward bits". "Brings in the baddies? How can only one pony bring a whole band without incident?" "Well, honestly that's the worst part 'bout this pony. The sheriff said that this... bounty hunter... always brings the baddies in a burlap sack. And never in one piece". She added and drew her finger across her neck. Twilight went white as she understood the not so subtly hidden meaning behind AJ's words and gulped audibly. "... Well... guess we should be glad that pony's on our side then... right"? AJ shrugged slightly, and shivered unconsciously. Twilight couldn't blame the tall mare. She hadn't described a bounty hunter, but a head hunter. "Ah'm guessin' he or she's the type who doesn't really read the - Dead or Alive - part in the wanted posters" she added with finality. "Gos-po-da-ri-ni" "nyi" "...nie..." "... close. Now try it, little one" "...oisha gospodarinie..." said the red haired little filly and thrust a tiny fist into the air. Alberacht chuckled and clapped his massive hands twice. "Very good copila, we'll make a proper Kislevite out of you yet" "Mister Alberacht say it again... correctly... i really want to learn it" she asked and looked at him with a pair of heart melting eyes. So much like Mishka. Alberacht chuckled again and stroked her mane like a weary grandfather. "Oysia Gispodarinyi" his deep basso voice carrying the battle chant to every corner of the barn. Ballots of hay muffled the sound and prevented any outside from hearing them. "What does it mean?" Alberacht thought for a few moments, then answered. "It has no literary meaning copila, it's an old Kislevite saying that symbolizes - nock another arrow, strike another blow, kill another foe. And before Old Man Winter claims you, have another drink. For the Oblast. - it is a saying as old as the Ungol tribes zimushka, but it rings in the heart of every Kislevite". Applebloom nodded fervently her eyes hungry for more stories. "And copila"? "It means - little one - " The little filly puffed her cheeks in indignation. She mumbled to herself "Not that little" and turned her head. Alberacht laughed uproariously. Mishka had used to do the same. He picked her small hand in between two taloned fingets and kissed it. "But of course, how inconsiderate of me. You are already five winters old, why i daresay you are but a few more away from being a full grown woma... mare" Applebloom crossed her arms and puffed up her chest in pride, oblivious to the gentle sarcasm in the vampire's voice. "That's right" she added, nodding her head in a paroxism of maturity, only to immediately revert to her childish wonderment. "Now tell me more of Kislev and the Ungols". Alberacht ruffled her mane gently, his young, handsome features belying the ancient wisdom in his eyes and the kind of affection only a father can offer. "I believe that is enough for the night copila, you have been here for the past three hours, devouring story after story. I can smell your elder sister approaching your home and we would not want her to not find you in your bed". Appleblooms eyes fell and her shoulders slumped. Such a child. Alberacht knelt and lowered his head heavily to bring his eyes level with her's. "Be good and patient copila, the Raven tells us - tomorrow always comes - and when it does, i shall tell you the legends of Tzarina Mishka and Tzar Alexei". Her eyes lit up with juvenile happiness and she made to leave. Before going however, she turned quickly and gave the giant warrior a peck on the cheek. She ran to the barn door, waving goodbye and disappeared from sight. Alberacht sat there for a few moments more. Mishka had used to do the same thing. The same mannerisms, the same curious and innocent nature, the same look of genuine affection from those same light brown eyes. Had he not known better he could have sworn that the filly was his beloved daughter's doppelganger. Alberacht Nictus dug his talons into the palm of his hand until brackish blood spurted from the wound. No. They were different. His daughter had died a long time ago. He had buried her and Etsuko's bodies into the frozen earth of the oblast with his own hands and had cried and howled at their gravestones for a month. He must not get confused. His mind had partially devolved into that of a varghulf a long time ago and it was easy for him to get confused. Even so, it was hard sometimes to truly see Applebloom as her own person. Far too often he could see only Mishka looking back at him. Alberacht walked the steps into the barn's roof and looked through the window. His vampiric sight easily found the small shape of the tiny filly, sneaking back to her home. "It is impolite to intrude upon one's seclusion unannounced. I trust even this world has a grasp upon the concept of manners" he said as two scents ended his introspection. A trapdoor in the roof opened and two shapes glided in. Alberacht turned slowly and stood, silent and waiting as the shapes that had entered his "sanctuary" examined him from head to toe. They were beautiful by any stretch of the word, even though they bore the trademarks of their race, the slightly elongated muzzles, the short fur covering their bodies, the pony ears and tails. These apparitions specifically bore both wings and each sported a long horn protruding from their mane obstructed foreheads. Yet for all those "alien" elements, they still had bodies akin to those of human women and their poise and elegance set them apart as royalty, giving them both an aura of beauty that would have easily put them on par with the fabled Aladrielle of Ulthuan or Morathi of Naggaroth. One was covered in pearlescent white fur and her long, multi-hued mane flowed around her voluptuous curves like a thing alive. She held the gorgeous enticement of a mature, experienced woman, the kind that could be found only in greatest of queens. The second was the midnight blue of the night's sky, her mane a lighter shade of azure, bearing the nubile beauty of a young adult, her shapes somewhat petite when compared to her companion but boasting a different, yet equal, kind of beauty. She was the visage of a warrior princess, an amazon woman, functionality and prowess given beauteous form. These two held foremost the poise and practiced composure of born royalty and, when adding their physical aspect into consideration, it would have made the greatest of kings or the most blood hungry of warlords lose their breaths and minds in awe of such manifestations of aesthetic perfection. When the white furred one spoke, her voice came as sweet as the finest honeyed wine of Brettonia but also holding the experience of centuries and the rawness of power and authority. "You were expecting us?" Alberacht disliked being discovered on terms other than his own, but was not arrogant enough to see it as impossible. He simply pointed to the moon. The parlescent shape shone like an eye in the night sky. "Than thou hast noticed the moon look back whenever thou gazes upon it" said the blue one in heavily archaic speech. Alberacht nodded once. They remained in silence until the white one spoke again. "We know you have killed the roving bands and criminals around Ponyville and Equestria. We have seen you do it and ensorcel our subjects into collecting the bounties. May I ask what need would one as strong as yourself have of currency"? "You may not" he said with a tone of calculated indifference, meant to neither offend nor show deference. It was the kind of tone nobility and royalty in particular, hated, for it ground on their over inflated sense of self worth. The pony simply smiled, a warm, geniuine smile. She knew this game well, and would not be the first to attack. "You could simply take what you need. You have more than the necessary strength and savagery". She added and, when no response came, she looked to a seemingly inconspicuous pile of old, rusted, farming utensils and mold eaten sacks of sand. "Or is it that you are collecting it for a certain someone... or rather... somepony". Alberacht's face did not move, nor did his eyes show any hostility. In the space it took for a heart to beat, the vampire drew the gnoll's claymore from it's hiding place within his folded wings and balanced it easily in his hand. Even though his face did not change, nor did he even whisper a sound, the air suddenly clogged with threat. Her assumption had been correct. Beneath the clutter, buried underneath the dirt lay a large bag containing a king's ransom in bounty rewards. He had initially intended to use it for himself but over this past month he had come to the decision that it would be a gift to Applebloom as payment for her kindness. It was enough gold to purchase land ten times the amount the Apple family already owned and a sizable manor in what the ponies called "Canterlot". Yet Alberacht would not miss a single coin of it. As the white furred one had said, he could simply take what he needed. "Will this charade trudge until we are but dust? Let us end the games and begin the battle"he rumbled. The white furred one shook her head slowly and looked to her blue furred companion. "A man of few words, but when he speaks it always holds good purpose" the younger of the two said. "I do not know for certain if we would be able to subdue him if it comes to blows, sister". "It will come to no such thing" the white alicorn said and lifted her hands in gesture of peace. "We are not here to seek conflict, warrior. We are here simply to ascertain your purpose and your intent. You have shown no ill will to our own, on the contrary, you have taken an almost guardian role towards one of our littlest. For a man of such few words, you speak at great lengths to Applebloom". She ended her statement with a grateful, almost motherly grin. "It is usually common courtesy to introduce oneself before asking such questions" the vampire rumbled in his deep basso, changing the subject. He did not want to admit his weakness towards the little filly. He could not hide it from himself but there was no need for these srangers to know more than they already did. The white alicorn took a deep bow. "I am Princess Celestia of the Sun. Pleased to make your acquaintance". The blue one approaced and did the same. "Princess Luna of the Moon. Pleased to make your acquaintance". Alberacht looked at them for a few moments longer and took a small bow, his hand on his chest, in archaic Kislevite tradition. "Alberacht of the Nictus Rota. Reaper of Sylvania and Grand Master of the Drakenhof Templars. Father Raven guide you. I have been sent here when i should have died. It was neither my choice nor my desire. I bear no ill will towards you and yours, nor do i have dreams of conquest. My way is simple. Do not stand before me and live. Challenge me and die". Celestia nodded. "Simple, succinct and concise. Thank you for speaking with us. If what you say is true, there is no need for us to be enemies". Alberacht raised an eyebrow. "What reason would i have to lie? If my desire was to kill you, i would have made no attempt to hide it". She took a few steps and began circling the massive vampire. Although she was tall for a pony, Celestia barely reached his lower chest and his bicep was almost as wide as her midsection. "Direct. For a man as articulate as yourself to be so stoic, it is a shame". "Words are wind, deeds are stone" he rumbled. "Well said" Celestia nodded. Now that he had been confirmed as not an immediate enemy she examined him from head to toe, not with the wary, calculated precision she had done so mere moments before. But instead, with an almost hungry interest. Alberacht had seen that same look upon many a woman's face, including Tzarina Katarin. Queen or no, a woman still had a woman's needs and Celestia was the same. Alberacht had no doubt that this immortal princess had bedded multiple partners over her long life and had now set her sights on him. She had forgone paltry flirting or annoying banter, and had made her intent clear and unmistakable. A woman who knew what she wanted and was determined to get it, a woman accustomed to being in control. He could almost smile. This pony royalty reminded him so much of the women of Kislev. Direct, fiercely independent and passionate to a fault, one could nowhere in the world find a more loyal wife and a more capable companion at arms than the women of Kislev. Alberacht found himself gaining a new found respect for this Celestia. But, respect or no, queen or goddess, Alberacht had forsaken the pleasures of the flesh since the death of his precious Etsuko, and he was not about to rescind on his vows now. As such he did not stop Celestia from looking but neither did he reciprocate her attentions. Celestia looked him up and down once more and took a step back. There was no hostility or disappointment over her unreciprocated intentions, just a resigned acceptance that this was a battle she had lost. On the other hand, the war was not done, and she seemed like the kind who would try again and again. "Of course you must understand that we shall be keeping an eye on you for the time being" she began, pointing to the moon. "I will be watching especially close" she added with a wink and the double meaning was not lost on Alberacht. "It is your kingdom, do as you wish" he rumbled, replacing the claymore in the folds of his wings and crossing his arms. Both the subtle warnings and the not so subtle innuendos were beginning to chafe at his nerves. A month before he would have ripped their throats for simply daring to approach his "sanctum", but now he abstained from such action for the simple reasoning of "Applebloom would not approve of it". He took a short bow and turned his back, signalling his unwillingness to continue any further discussion. A flutter of wings told him of their departure. Alberacht gazed at the moon, unconsciously running his finger along the razor edge of the claymore. He had openly threatened the diarchs of this strange land and yet there had been no conflict, no presumption of guilt, quite the opposite, an acceptance of the different and, in Celestia's case, an "appreciation" of the different. He was beginning to understand why little Applebloom had warmed to him so quickly. She had grown up in an environment that could foster only kindness and acceptance. This world was not an utopia, far from it. Monsters, bandits and undead roamed the forests and deepest crags of this world, much like in his own. But these... ponies... dealt with such problems without letting themselves be corrupted by hate and savagery in turn. The veteran in him scoffed in contempt at their innocence, the varghulf snarled at the perceived weakness of it all. But the remaining human in him respected them for it. "Sometimes there is need for a greater monster to end the smaller ones" he muttered to himself and smiled as he saw the moon gaze back at him. This was a statement that did not seem to apply to these little ponies.
