Ragenard relaxed his stance and the grip on his word with a sigh and a snort at Broch's shitty humor. He did not however, put it away yet. Something was tickling at the back of his brain, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it yet.
He looked around their lush surroundings, glancing up in time to see the afternoon sun slant through the trees and admired the play of pollen dancing in a shaft of sunlight. He drew in a deep breath, and inhaled both the scents of nature and the gore of Broch's and Daniel's violence.
A bird chirped in the distance, almost in time with a particularly loud squelch as Daniel's...whatever the fuck that was made it's way through a particularly juicy patch of viscera.
Everything seemed alright. There was something in that...
"I guess we let them finish their fun and then get moving kiddo," replied Ragenard absentmindedly to Aimée's question. What was he missing here?
Cobblestones. He was sure they weren't inside a forest. So why was the illusion still in place? A look of dawning comprehension suffused Ragenard's features, but too late to act upon it.
A wall of frost-fire suddenly blazed to life up and around Broch and Daniel in a ring, trapping the two men in. The air within shimmered as a translucent figured materialized before them. It was hard to really keep it in view, with features shifting in time with strangely languid rippling as if a soft breeze from another world blew through it.
"Poor poor vermin. Death of the flesh is only a problem for you," said the shade of the vampire mockingly. Before Broch and Daniel could hope to react, the shade raised it's hands in a threatening gesture. The magical fire they were both trapped within roared viciously and rose over their heads like a wave. It flared momentarily brighter before it began it's descent to consume the two fighters...
Then with a sudden whooshing sound, it vanished.
"That's quite enough playtime Mildred," said a disembodied voice.
It sounded like satin sliding over bone. Contempt masquerading as silky smoothness. Charm only pretending to hide disdain, and wholly unconcerned with the disingenuous charade.
Ragenard hated it immediately.
"My lord, I—" began the shade. Before she could continue, her form seized and floated ramrod straight with feet hovering inches above the ground.
As Ragenard watched, he suddenly became aware of the thing standing behind the shade. It didn't suddenly appear, nor did it slowly fade into view. It simply was there, now observable to Ragenard's awareness. His hackles rose in time with his sense of trepidation, and the gruff man's eyes began to bleed from hazel to electric blue as the beast within Ragenard roared to be let free.
He wasn't entirely sure if he'd fight if he let in. Part of him was certain instinct called out to him because he'd be able to flee all the faster if he were to shift. But that was only a small part. The raw and simpleminded animal he'd been born with. The other within Ragenard managed to slip the werewolf's mental boxing away just long enough to convey a mocking amusement. And a sense of kinship with the form behind the ghost.
"Nobody move a fucking muscle," barked Ragenard. His voice was ragged. Every hair upon his body stood on end.
Behind the ghost, stood a vaguely humanoid shape. It was of only average height, and aside from the fact that it stood on the air there wasn't much remarkable about it, aside from it's dress. It wore a simple and slightly ragged dark cloak, complete with stereotypical deep hood. As expected, only a dark void was visible within it.
It was so cliched it ought to have been funny. It was one of the scariest things Ragenard had been in the presence of in his life.
"Seriously Broch. Stay the fuck still...that's a literal embodiment of capital 'd', Death," he added in a harsh whisper pitched towards the bloodied grizzled man.
"Night has fallen, the ritual has commenced. Being dead doesn't excuse you, Mildred," chimed the disembodied voice. Ragenard felt a stab of gratitude. The voice was coming from behind him. It wasn't the specter of Death speaking.
The hooded figured placed an arm on the ghost's shoulder. A look of agonizing pain came upon the ghosts features, and their erstwhile antagonist's face became locked in a rictus of suffering. Thankfully, despite the clear and unhinged screams of agony they couldn't hear anything, the dead wailed somewhere else.
The two figures melted from view like a time-lapse of a candle, and the environment around the group of hunters melted along with them.
They found themselves standing on a broad cobblestoned square. Farther beyond the way they had come were the cliffs, with everything in between nothing but lifeless dirt and crooked headstones.
Ragenard slowly turned around, and laid eyes upon Castle Naraz. A path led out of the square, and up towards a large iron wrought gate. Behind stood the castle, but it was the figures before the gate that Ragenard focused on.
Six figures stood there, of varying heights and genders. It was a bit hard to notice their features, but not because of any direct magical interference. It took a second for Ragenard to notice that it was fully dark around the sky...and there were no visible stars. It was as if atop the bowl shaped depression that held the castle was another inverted bowl placed upon it. One of darkness, obscuring the skies.
Only the thin sliver of a sickly looking moon cast any light upon them all.
"It was foolish of you to come here interlopers. But no matter. The die is cast," said the leading figure among the group as it took a couple of steps closer.
"You're welcome in my home. Attempt to do as you will, events have begun to run their course. In six hours, dead or alive, you'll be part of the family forever," the figure said before contemptuously turning it's back on the group.
For a second Ragenard once again saw the specter of Death, walking a few polite steps behind the silhouette. Without fanfare, the vampires simply vanished and the castle gates began to slowly grind open of their own accord.
"Shit," muttered Ragenard. "I think we accidentally walked into actual work, Broch."
