Tilorn walked onwards, heading for the largest hill in the area. He could feel the power here all around him. Artifacts burried beneat the earth that would yeald to him power he would use to cut swaiths through arda's population in the name of the dark god. He looked around him. He was being far from descreite and he knew that now in the dead on night it would not be long before the barrow wights caught up with him but they where by no means any problem to him.

He drew out a black blade that did not shine in the moonlight. It was matt black and as he held it in his hands it pullsed with a hatred all of its own. Forged by raku himself some said. It was his second step in his eyes on his path to the dark god. First was his betreyal of his vilage that he had sworn to protect. The act of desacraiting his own body with thier blood. He had slaughtered them and hacked off his wings. No longer and angel he left to stalk the world.

The sword had given him powers spells he could use, Bone breaker desacrate and blood of the hell fire. But it wasnt enough, he needed more power to prove to raku that he could follow him with enough power and twisted evil to be worthy of note. That was what he saught here and that was what he would get.

He aprothced a doorway, leeding to deeper catacombes. But its stone slab had been shattered. The remnance scattered about the tunnel. He shrugged. It made his life easyer. He began to make his way down, into the dark. HE growwled to himself. He couldnt see a damned thing in the gloom. He walked for several muinets or more. Always downwards on the same tunnel. Soon he came to a room but something was not quite right. There was something else in here. His grip tightend on his sword handel. He looked about. No one would get in his way he could gurantie that.

What Tilorn didnt know, however, was something had already come. Nothing was likely to enter if it could know, or at least detect, the frightening power inside. The Pariah, Destroyer, Nightmare. Some rumored him to be in league with death, a hitman to make up for lost souls. Others beleived it to be a force created by the Gods, whom were striking chosen towns for supposed displeasures found within. The true story, however, was much more sinister.

Much more diabolical, much more chaotic. And how this creation's life would intersect with another would permanently change both. It was night in the Barrows, a favorite place to avoid for many. Also, a wonderful hiding place if you were a hunted soul. Or souls. Did he qualify as a soul? It occasionally trifled over such philosophies, when it was taking a break from plotting or killing something. Anything bent to it's will, or died. Very few escaped it's twisting ways.

It was Tithdaeron, the Chaos Elemental. It blended into the shadows. Was a shadow. Lord over those shadows. It was everything. It was nothing. It was interested most of all in this newcomer, sword drawn, looking for trouble. What sort would the fallen angel find? He would soon find out. Slowly materializing out of the darkness, the silhoutte of a man cloaked in thick leather silently conquered the light filtering in from entrance. A hand, reached up, and grabbed with a strong grip at Tilorn's shoulder.

"What would a dark peson such as yourself want with me? How did you come to know my sanctuary? Or maybe it was by chance. I offer a chance, leave, provide me with something useful, or meet Death." The options were clear, if the intruder did not state his intentions soon, he would soon have all the time in the world to consider what should have been done. To accentuate the heat of the situation, his left hand created a spark which quickly gave birth to a flame. It was promptly held at the back of Tilorn's head, inches away.

((sorry just say im tilorn i cant be bothered to split this))

Tilorn wandered into the room a little further. Something grabbed his shoulder. He stopped and didnt move another step. The scared stumps of his wings shifted slightly under his clothes. The creature must have apeared from the shadows he desided. Something to take heed of. He listened to the voice that spoke. A scowl came to pass over his face. He really didnt like what he had to say. Such arogance will be punished. Egos to where on no consiquince, insignificant dots on the vastness of reality.

He whirled around in a quick moment, he failed to dislodge the hand that was clasped on his shoulder. His own hand rose up and made to encircle the mans neck. He scowled at the man. "I do not give" He could not even if he wanted to. His only posetions comprised of a daggar a bone handled knife a pot of oil and a sword that was as much a part of him as his own limbs.

He looked dead straight into the mans eyes, he would not waver. It was of no consiquence that this man was more powerfull than him. Tilorn had no care for this world or reality. Even his own body and soul ment nothing. He would fight though. It simply ment he didnt care if he won or lost. If he died he died. If that happend then he would be in no possition to notice anyway unless he found another body in which case... he would have another go.

"Now, who the hell are you and what can YOU provide me with." Tilorn the fallen angel. The dessacrated one, the one with no fear. The one who looked for power to release the human mind from all dogma. He was ready to fight, to lash out at anything. His twisted soul ran with enough hate to keep a corpse moving. It was more than enough to make him fight.

((LOL, thats ok. :) ))


Tilorn was unable to break Tithdaeron's grasp. So, he had himself a prisoner. Interesting. Prisoners were not a common occurence in it's life, as usually most who lived to see the horrors created by him went insane themselves, commited suicide, or simply disapeared. But then again, Tilorn had seen no horrors of the Chaos Elemental's creation. That he was aware of. Interesting also as that Tilorn had the guts and courage, or, at least stupidity, to demand someting of Tithdaeron. It actually made him want to give Tilorn something. But what?
Tilorn didnt seem, nor feel powerful enough to be able to handle any of the spells that Tithdaeron knew. So he couldnt teach those to him. What would it be?

"Your rather... squirrely. It amuses me. I shall give you something, but, what is it you desire? Keep in mind that even I am only a mortal. I cant very well grant you three wishes now. But I can make you more than what you are. Is this what you desire? More power? Can you handle immense power? Are you prepared to be swallowed up by it? Can you stomach the fact that it will be an obsession, it will control you, deceive you, nd in the end, destroy you?"
Tithdaeron's burning gaze fixated dead center upon Tilorn's eyes, as if ready to drill a hole through his skull. Most people would put it past him.

"I can make you a vampire. Or a werewolf. I like vampires better. Or, I could make you dead. Would you prefer that? I would. Ha ha ha ha!" it added mockingly. Of course it would find this all a rather amusing joke. The whole idea of trapping a person in your unbreakable grasp is to control them, not be controled. More mind games. Fabulous, wonderful, mind games. Practice. It would all be needed for the final goal. Her...

((I have three very good spells from rakus path you know :p))

Tilorns dull orange eyes caught the light in the room and they flashed slightly. He held this beings gaze. He had stared into his own fate and not blinked. He knew his fate. To be comsumed by the taint that he harboured till it was as much apart of him as his desacrated soul. "Am i prepaired to be? I already have been. A taint has consumed me and i acepted it willingly. Now my obsetion is to remove the dogma from the minds of men. Do you know the only way to remove all indesition and pain? Death. I will acept any power and all power to further my strengths. My body has no meaning to me."

Now came a choice, it was ironic that he saught a world with out dilema yet he was presented with one now that would effect his quest. His mind was already made up. "Make me a vampire, let its poisen spread though my veins and drive out my angelic life force. I have done all i can phisicly, now you can help me step away from my past." He was talking of his wings. Or the lack of them. He had cleaved them from his body and the stumps now stood in place.

This time when he pulled away he broke the creatures grasp. "The blood of the hell fire has already ravaged my body, now let this take a hold of me. Do what you must." He stepped back and exposed his neck, tearring away his cloths. His bare neck exposed. He had let blood before. More than a little. In a battle with another angel zenith he had lost almost all of his blood. He acepted his fate now. The pain would not be great. Not as great as he had felt before. The
battle with zenith had left him scarred and inches from death. HE still carried on and later that same day he faugth another battle with a differnt person. Such was the way he lived his life. He was prepaired for the out come of this. All it would meen to him was more power. More ways to.... help humanity. "Do it, but i warn you i will not be indebted to anyone,"

A vampire then. Interesting. Most of this kind wanted to be a werewolf or something worse, but, perhaps this person needed the skill and instinct a vampire had for a certain something. Then again, he did mention getting rid of any angel part of him possible. If you weren't a demon, and wanted to be as opposite a angel as possible, you were a vampire. Well, there wasn't much left to do here except comply. It would be fun too. It had been a long time since Tithdaeron had fed. Not that it needed to anymore, but still, it was a rather delightful thing to do. What with it's fondness towards bloodshed period. Taking control over his chaotic powers, the shape of Tithdaeron's form changed.

Slowly the shape of the silhouette lengthened and widened slightly. Red eyes betrayed the color scheme of the whole montage of figures, as each arm, leg, organ, and cell was changed to match the body of an older self. The cloak was soon replaced by a pair of wings, closed and pressed against the creature's back. Rune Mail twinkled slightly as the light entering the cave reflected from its hard metal surface. And most importantly of all, two, white lines seemed to grow out of the shadows as well a little below the two red pinpricks of blood color peering at its newest victim. It reached out with both hands, pulled its subject closer, and opened its mouth wide.

Clamping down on the side of Tilorn's exposed neck, Tithdaeron wasted no time getting to business. The fangs found purchase in the flesh, piercing through tissue and fat before they reached their target. The artery, of which were two, that ran along the neck and provided blood to the head. One of the greatest vulnerabilities of the humanoid structure, which was otherwise quite well defended. (The intracacies of which any vampire is familiar with.) Blood rushed into Tithdaeron's mouth, and it gulped it down as soon as it showed up. Soon, there was none left, and the infection of darkness took its place. Tithdaeron dropped the man, who fell to the hard rock unconscious. "Every owns a debt to someone. Even I. You will find what you owe me and pay it, even without your knowledge such is possible. Welcome to the brotherhood."

(did it agian)

Tilorn flashed a rare smile. He had no idea how much this was going to hurt and the idea apealed to him. He stopped himself from tensing his neck. It would be easyer for this creature to gain a purchase on his jugular if he was untenssed. He wondered how many people gave themselves willingly to be a vampire. He knew his quest would not end with being a vampire. It was merely a step to greater things.

He felt the creature draw closer even though his eyes searched else where. He could feel the breath on his neck. Almost feel the needle like teath in his neck. Almost. The last few seconds seem to draw on for an enternity. Then finaly he felt the two points begining to put pressure on his flesh.

Now was time for another step to the future. He let out a sigh of releafe as the teath sank into his warm flesh. The pain courced up his neck as his jugular vein tore. He felt his body warm as the blood flowed freely down him. He felt it being drawn from his body. Sucked from him as his life force ebbed away. All part of the plan he whispered to himself. All part of the plan.

Then at once he was dropped. Let to the floor. His body slumped. He was powerless for now. Not for long. The sight of the room and the floor blurred as the blood loss took its tole. Soon the taint would give him power, give him streaght. More than ever. He would have new skills all he needed to do was endure the hollowness he felt now.

The hollowness was replaced by a coldness that burned him, burning his incides. every vein arttery and capilary burned with the freazing cold of the unholy taint.He raised an arm limply and grabbed the edge of the creature clothes. "I owe you nothing." He said with all the streaght he could muster. He let his hand fall limply to the floor and curled up slightly as he forced himself to stay awake. He felt something growing from the top of his back above his scarred stumps. New wings... better he reminded himself. Better.