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lol OMG that's awesome!

Y'all are so entertaining.

Behave yourself.

And reappeared! He's magic!

lol I knew some of the aspects of you Origins RPG seemed familiar. See how I eased in some of my own? The ME series has got some great RPG gameplay and its expansive universe is on DA's scale. There were pros and cons to each, but if they're doing ME3 anywhere near the way they're doing DA3 you can expect the pros of both games [as well as a ton of new stuff] to be incorporated in this final installment.

It's gonna be epic. Seriously epic.

Slade follows George and the others down the narrow corridor, that shirokami barely illuminated amongst the retreating darkness, the Jedi's light forcing that silent foe to flee before them. The Force barrier surrounding the Temple was designed to target vampires, disrupting the flow of dark energy through their bodies to effectively limit their capabilities. Slade, however, doesn't seem to care. As if his fighting prowess alone could fell any army.

Cold air nips at the nape of his neck, and Slade expands his senses instinctively, blue eyes mingling with golden embers as powerful muscles tense with impatience, his inner demon thrashing against its ancient bars, demanding he satisfy that old hunger. This place was cursed. He can feel it with every step he takes, each breath he draws. In the depths of his very bones. Desperation forced even the most righteous of souls to resort to twisted power. But this... what horror had wrought such utter desolation? The last time he was here...

*Flickering light creeps across the dark floor, given brief life by the fires which sit atop the two rows of carved heads, each sculpted to resemble an armored horse. Slade walks in complete silence, a tangled mass of sandy cloth loosely layered over light armor. He'd secretly followed the boy to this place, the vampire a constant shadow to a man who knew nothing of his existence.

Slade suddenly emerges from the dimly lit hallway into a desert cavern, the walls fading away into ageless stone, golden light from magnificent chandeliers dancing along pillars of rock and hardened sand. A humanoid figure sits beneath the largest of the chandeliers, vibrant red hair trailing down over a tattered cloak, a large sword −whose white blade seems to sing −lodged deep into the stone at his side. The vampire approaches slowly, careful to avoid the large cracks etched into the stone.

"You reek of blood and death," a thunderous voice remarks, violent and deep, heavy with a tremendous burden, "of dark creatures cursed long ago."

Slade bows slightly out of respect if nothing else. "I'm nothing but a simple hunter," he argues the unstated accusation persuasively, gaze lingering on the figure's back. "It doesn't matter what creature may chose to test my skill, they all die the same."

The figure chuckles lightly. "Indeed?"  he wonders as he rises to his feet, pulling his sword from the stone in the process. He turns to face Slade, sliding his weapon into its sheath.

It was easy to understand why many cultures revered the valsai'ium as deities. Ancient tribal tattoos adorn godlike muscles while a strong jaw and chiseled features give off an air of unquestionable authority, brown eyes lit with unfathomable power. Mortals had followed lesser beings to certain death... but even the greatest mortal was no match for any of the valsai'ium.

He approaches Slade but abruptly stops a few feet away, his eyes narrowing sharply. "The tainted blood which stains you is fresh. Tell me, hunter," the valsai'ium demands coldly, "where did you encounter such a creature?"

Slade looks down at his chest, noticing the rather tiny holes in the exposed portion of his armor. The vampire's blood had burned nearly clean through. "He followed a man here, as did I," the blonde begins to explain, immediately dismissing the insignificant holes in his armor as nothing to be concerned about. "I couldn't allow harm to come to him, however, and so the creature chose to fight me. He chose poorly."

"You must be more than a simple hunter to escape such a battle with naught but a hole or two in your armor," he praises Slade passively.

"Experience's an unforgiving teacher," the vampire remarks. "You either learn quickly or you die."

The valsai'ium nods in compliance. "Indeed." He pauses for a moment, silence filling the cavern until he continues. "You followed a man here. Why?"

Slade sighs. "My oath is my own. Simply know my intentions are honorable. That should sate your appetite."

The valsai'ium seems to contemplate this, unsure whether to trust this stranger or kill him where he stands. One human could do little harm he supposed. And even were he by some chance a cursed soul, the Temple was more than prepared to handle the situation.

"We have but one human here. He is with Unun Bak-Khur at the moment. Would you have me send for him?"

"No," the vampire states abruptly, quickly collecting himself. "That won't be necessary," he tries again. "I ask instead that you don't mention my presence here nor report on the creature which followed him to this place. I'm nothing but a silent guardian to him, a shadow he shouldn't concern himself with. He has more important things to do."*

That day... how much time had passed between then and now? Years? Centuries? Milleniums? He supposed it mattered little. This place was nothing but a vast tomb now; the hollowed hopes of gods who thought they could prevent the inevitable. Slade's eyes jump to George. The war was not over yet, however. There was still time. Still hope. They could end it...

Dark whispers begin to slither through his thoughts, and Slade growls audibly, irritated. He was in no mood for petty mind games the dead wished to play with him. The sound of a woman's laughter echoes around them, Mat and Leina's hands jumping to the lightsabers dangling from their belts, a flash of impossibly long hair disappearing into the darkness ahead of them.

Slade comes to an abrupt halt, his legs refusing to move, his lungs struggling for air as his eyes widen in shock. It... it couldn't be. A woman's voice sings through the air, melodious and soft, her tone tender and full of love.

"Rule..."

Slade's heart skips a beat, maybe two. "Saki..." he whispers breathless, the faint sound drawing attention to him now, the Jedi all giving him a worried glance.

"Rule," the woman calls again. "Do you remember me?" she wonders sadly. "Do you remember your promise?"

All rational thought vanishes from the vampier's mind. He no longer cared if this was simply some trick this place chose to conjure up. As long as he could hear her voice, catch a glimpse of her within the shadows.

"I remember, Saki..." he answers submissively, his voice rich and smooth, matching her tender tone. His eyes soften drastically. "I'd never forget you. Never."

The surprisingly realistic form of a woman appears behind Slade, long, silky brown hair framing a beautiful face with pointed ears, a slender figure clad in Jedi-like robes which clings to her body perfectly. A delicate hand runs from his throat to his shoulder, the vampire shuddering from the cold touch, turning his head towards her. "Saki..."

He reaches for her hand and pulls, allowing her to slide around his body and into his arms. His eyes suddenly widen in horror, however, and a harsh gasp escapes his throat as the smell of blood poisons the air. "Saki?!"

"I'm sorry," she whispers weakly, her body going limp in his arms.

Slade crumbles to the ground, a shaking hand tangling in the hair at the nape of Saki's neck, a silent wish that his will alone could keep her alive forever. "Saki, don't..." he doesn't finish, burying his face in the crook of her neck to hide his own weakness.

A tender hand reaches up, fingers trailing through golden strands. "Promise me, Rule..." she pleads on her last breath, the last remnants of her strength gone as that hand slips from Slade's hair and falls to the ground. The vampire pulls Saki's lifeless body closer, clinging to her desperately. Safira takes a step towards the vampire.

Slade looks up suddenly, eyes utterly consumed by blazing fires of rage so intense they emit smoke, sharpened fangs glistening even in the darkness. "Leave me!" he demands in anger, his voice dangerous and unstable, giving off an echo effect as if two beings spoke at once.

Safira takes a few steps back, her eyes narrowing coldly as she turns and continues down the narrow passage. George is unsure whether to follow or stay but quickly decides against the latter. Eventually Slade disappears, fading into the darkness which returns without the Jedi's light to keep it at bay. Shortly afterwards a roar of rage echoes down the corridor, an intense Force shockwave shaking the very foundation of the Temple.

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Done. I haven't had much time to myself recently which is why its taking a bit of time with these posts. I'll add all the other character parts in the next post but feel free to go about doing whatever George has to do in the Temple. Slade will... ah, catch up later.

And yes, he followed George to Ordo all those centuries ago. That's kinda what he does, that stalker. Anyway, the Guardian of Rage sensed the presence of a vampire and had Slade captured and brought in. Slade of course didn't fight his Levantian captors 'cause well, that would just complicate stuff. Anyhoo, Slade with his awesome, powerful self, convinces Therion that he is not a vampire. 'Cause he's a badass like that.

And in case you haven't figured it out [which I know you have] Saki is the woman Slade promised whatever he promised to. That's not really how she died necessarily, but its just supposed to make Slade experience that pain again. Oh and if you're wondering why Saki has elfish ears... its 'cause she's a Human/Sephi hybrid. Whoo! ^_^

I think that about does it for what I wrote. I like the name you gave the indigenous population. I didn't have a name for them but I imagined them as pretty much humanoid [with a few minor differences i.e. four digit hands] with a war-centric culture. They have three different "appearances" I guess you could say and they don't really age like humans. Instead their skin darkens due to exposer to the sun.

Males are born with a grey tint to their skin and white eyes. They mature and their skin begins to darken to a black color and their eyes take on a golden hue at around 150 or so. Males who hold special ranks [such as clan leaders or assassins] receive special charmed tattoos to mark them.

Females do not change much in appearance at all. They are born with the same grey tinted skin as males and the same white eyes. When they mature at around 180 or so their eyes begin to take on a blue hue. All Levantian die at 300-350 years of age.

Allright, you're next on my post list Prince.

Jest, Prince and I are still at wherever the Horizon is docked.
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"It seems my reputation precedes me," Soren comments, cool gaze suddenly cutting to the side to catch the suspicious eyes of the engineers, both fumbling about as they quickly return to whatever it was they were supposed to be doing. "If you are wise, Mr. Antilles," the Samuac halfbreed continues, returning his attention to John, "you will make sure they do not interfere with our work. You are our only priority. As far as we are concerned everyone else on this ship is expendable."

The grated floor beneath them vibrates faintly, a sign the Horizon's exterior cargo door was closing. The Raiders must have finished loading their ordnance. "Come with me," Soren all but demands, that noble superiority nearly bending John to his will as he abruptly turns and heads towards the cargo hold without giving John any chance to oppose. "I believe it is time you came face to face with the 'most vicious animals known to galactic society', Major."

The door leading to the cargo hold opens with a hiss, the noise successfully drawing the attention of the individuals inside. Sarai stands closest to the door, icy blue eyes narrowing on John distrustfully, a delicate hand resting casually on one of her pistols. The Black Raider crates had been scanned for abnormalities as per standard regulation for all cargo. They were packing some serious heat for such a simple mission. No doubt they wanted to keep the Alliance from getting their hands on any of it. Sarai was acting as a guard, keeping out unwanted guests.

As they step into the hold, John's eyes lock with those of perhaps the most noticeable of the Raiders: an extremely well-built man who easily towers a few good inches above him if not more, naturally tanned skin enunciating the 'X' shaped scar across the upper portion of his chiseled face, authentic tribal tattoos curling around powerful arms. John's attention is drawn away from the daunting tank of a human by the sharp flick of a lighter, his gaze landing on the redhead sitting atop one of the crates they'd hauled in, elbows on his knees in a relaxed manner, a lit cigarette dangling loosely from his lips.

A black shirt clings loosely to his body, the long, open collar revealing a small portion of the tattoos covering his chest, the design mimicking the ones which decorate his forehead and travel down the sides of his neck. At the redhead's feet sits a young man not far beyond his twenties, the black cloth wrapped around his head completely veiling the right side of his face and neck, silver hair and light skin contrasting with the one vibrant red eye visible. A Samuac purebred.

In a dark corner at the far end of the room, John can just barely make out another male figure, haunting silver eyes cutting through the darkness to pin John beneath a predatory gaze. "Here we are, Mr. Antilles," Soren annouces, his eyes gleaming with something akin to pride. "The Black Raiders. The army of six. Your army."

He motions towards Sarai with a gentle hand. "I believe you have already met Sarai... though you were not officially introduced seeing as the encounter was so brief."

"Not brief enough," the Cathar halfbreed retorts in disapproval. It was more than obvious she was not very happy about working with the Alliance. However, her loyalty belonged to Soren. She refused to question his judgment.

Soren ignores Sarai's little protest. She had her reasons for hating the Alliance but Soren never allowed personal affairs to effect business opportunities. "We are all efficient killers, Mr. Antilles," the Raider Captain states darkly as if this fact were obvious, a chilling edge clinging to the fringes of his voice. "We would not be here today were that not the case. However, any man with a gun can potentially kill. The Black Raiders are successful because we each contribute skills beyond the ability to simply pull a trigger."

"On top of her combat involvement," the Samauc halfbreed continues, "Sarai shall also be operating as our technology specialist." His attention drifts towards the large man. "Scar is our heavy hitter and explosive expert while Rhys's exceptional skills with automatic weaponry," he nearly praises, that stormy gaze landing on the redhead, "has earned him his spot as our weapons specialist."

Soren's eyes soften significantly on the silver-haired man at Rhys's feet, his voice taking on a tender tone which betrays his affection for the younger man. "Zain tends to work best in situations where a more subtle touch is required and has mastered numerous sabotage techniques to further his ability to operate on his own."

Those kind eyes suddenly take on a dangerous gleam, however, as they find the figure lurking in the shadows at the far side of the room. "Ash... well... he is an engineered masterpiece. A born killer," the Raider Captain remarks absently, those silver and grey eyes locked in some silent duel, "designed to fell entire armies. The best of the Echani and the Clawdite entwined in one single being to create an infiltrator without match."

Soren sighs, closing his eyes briefly before he opens them again, cool gaze cutting to the side to steal a glance at John. "We are the true Black Raiders, Mr. Antilles," he adds on a small smile. "The kings of war."

I know. But it helps to hear it sometimes.

I feel like I just played KotOR again and earned lightside points.
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Planets exploding, sun crashing into the earth due to overactive gravitational pull... that sorta thing?

Sometimes the flow isn't that easy to just go with.
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Yes, the world would be a horrible place without me. 
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Slade follows the group though the vampire leaves some distance between them as he always seemed to do. Every now and then, however, George could feel those cold eyes on his back as if Slade were waiting for something. But then they were gone, the blonde returning his gaze to the never-ending sea of sand. George sighs. The Jedi had decided that Slade was a complex creature even he might never truly understand.

He wasn't even entirely sure if he wanted to understand him. Not yet at least. The vampire might have saved his life but that didn't change what he was. And it sure as hell didn't atone for what he'd done. Then again, that was what made Slade so... interesting. He didn't want to be understood, and he didn't want a few good actions  −no matter their weight  −to cleanse him of past wrongs. He had long ago accepted his damnation. Perhaps that was why the Sur'haai pitied him.

Kal stops suddenly, the Mandalorian bending down as bandaged fingers trace ancient symbols in the sand. "It's here," he whispers absently in Mando'a.

Safira nods, waving George towards them. "The Temple's directly beneath us. Kal can only open the passageway for a short amount of time so we should be quick about this. However, I will not fall for the same trick twice," she quickly adds.

"The Orik'baar will attempt to flank us and trap us inside the Temple. The Shade should be more than capable of handling any threat we face within, but I suggest leaving behind some men with Kal to fortify this position and deal with the Orik'baar reinforcements."

o.O.o

It was always a city, a massive metropolis filled to the brim with towering skyscrapers but not a single person other than the demon which always seemed the haunt his subconscious. Piercing eyes warily watch the figure before him, muscles tensing in anticipation as adrenaline-laced blood courses through his veins. The figure looks up abruptly, gold on black eyes burning into the remains of Kain's soul as Hakai rises to his feet, a menacing grin curling those cruel lips as he twirls a doubled-bladed lightsaber hilt in his fingers.

"Hiya King," he welcomes in that distorted baritone voice which somehow managed to send a sharp chill down Kain's spine. "Long time no see."

Kain immediately draws an identical lightsaber from his belt, red and black clashing in a blaze of dark colors as Kain blocks Hakai's mad attacks. The black-haired demon laughs psychotically, suddenly pushing against their locked blades with a tremendous amount of Force pressure which sends Kain flying back into a nearby building.

The redhead coughs, waving the cloud of dirt and smoke away from his face in an attempt to get a clear line of sight, pieces of rubble rolling off his shoulders. He roars with building rage, unleashing a burst of Force energy in a blind attempt to hit Hakai and rid himself of this nightmare. Hakai smirks, raising a quick arm, the appendage acting as a sword, slicing the beam of energy in half, effectively causing it to miss its intended target.

Kain emerges from the wrecked section of the building now, green eyes burning with golden fires.

"When will ya learn, King?" Hakai wonders, golden eyes gleaming with power as he continues to twirl his blackened lightsaber in his fingers. "The more ya try 'nd fight me, the easier it becomes for me to take over your body. The more ya struggle," he adds sinisterly, a devious tongue flicking out to lick his lips hungrily, "the deeper I sink my teeth into that delicious soul of yours."

Kain growls, eyes narrowing coldly. "Is that so? If that's tha case, then if I kick your ass in 'ere," the redhead concludes confidently, "I'll regain control of my body."

"You? Beat me?" Hakai's own eyes narrow in defiance. "That ain't happenin'."

"Ya sound so damn sure 'bout that," Kain remarks.

They move as one, Kain and Hakai, each drawing their own version of Mekura from her hidden sheath, the silver knife plunged deep into the raging heart of their lightsabers as their voices seem to merge to become one and the same.

"Enrage... Kyōbōna!"

...Ilum, Valley of Glass; Crystal Caverns...

Dmitri pulls his lightsaber from the chest of the great wolf, the weapon humming with dark hunger. The Guardian would not have left this creature's side willingly, and yet there were no signs of struggle or any great battle. Golden eyes mingled with traces of red linger on the hilt of Kurogitsune as he deactivates the blackened blade.

This would be interesting...

...Ilum, Valley of Glass; The Crystal Temple...

The giant ice door suddenly shatters into millions of tiny pieces, falling down around them like crystalline snow. Sangria takes a deep breath before turning to face the two vampires, motioning towards the large ice pillar in the center of the next room.

"There... there is your Key," she states cooly, disgusted with herself for even agreeing to this. But it was for Alaric... if she could protect nothing else she would protect him. No matter the cost. "Remember our deal, tappa. You will take the Key and leave Alaric and I in peace. You will never return."

Sabien bows slightly. "Of course, valsai'ium."

A feral grin curls Daisuke's lips. "But first..."

Sangria is suddenly thrown against the wall with such incredible force that she drops her axe, Daisuke and Sabien using the opportunity to drive their lightsabers into her shoulders, keeping her pinned against the cavern wall like some trophy.

"Te'ekam!" she shouts, struggling to get free. The souls trapped inside the vampire's cursed blades, however, were consuming her power. The more she tried to use it, the weaker she became. "Coett i'vekii!"

Sabien chuckles darkly. "Exactly valsai'ium," he explains with a small smile, his nails extending into vicious claws which torturously tear away at the flesh of Sangria's chest, "we had a deal..."

...Near the Gate of Mukem...

His eyes widen in shock, his lungs robbed of air in a sharp gasp as his gaze focuses on the tip of the white blade less than an inch away from his face. I-Impossible! It had to be...

"You seem rather surprised, Tyrael," a disturbingly calm voice observes, dark power slithering across his skin, leaving him utterly helpless. The tip of the sword suddenly pushes against his chin, the valsai'ium forced to raise his head and meet eyes which burn like the fires around them. "Did you truly believe your pathetic chains could hold me? You're more naive than I suspected."

"You... you escaped," Tyrael manages, dark blood leaking past the gauntleted hand pressed desperately against his abdomen. "H-how?"

Mortis chuckles softly. "And still you are blind, valsai'ium. It was never a matter of how but when. I allowed myself to be captured, allowed Central 49 to judge me as they pleased, and allowed you to bring me to this desolate hell... all that I might break the Eighth Gate's seal..."

Tyrael's heart skips a beat as Mortis fingers softly land on his exposed chest, the vampire wise enough to keep his blade at the valsai'ium's throat. "I... I don't understand. The... the Eighth Gate... you need..."

Mortis closes his eyes on a small smile. "Is it truly that difficult to understand?" the vampire ponders, his nails beginning to sharpen like claws as they trace a circle above his captive's frantic heart. Tyrael's eyes widen in sudden realization, Mortis's dark words sending unbearable power coursing through his veins.

"The cycle repeats..."

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Whoo! I did it! Another post. Hell yeah. ^_^ Okay... explaining time.

Vampire Vocabulary:

Te'ekam! Coett i'vekii!: You bastards! We had a deal!

You can have the group enter the Temple and wander about and stuff but there's something kinda significant I have planned so don't have them reach the Orik'baar god or anything yet. Now the whole ordeal with Kain and Hakai is actually inside Kain's mind [which is why it's not in italics]. It's real so if Kain dies he actually dies in reality and Hakai takes control of 'their' body or vice versa so it's a real struggle... just in Kain's mind.

Regarding Kain's weapons: I explained in another post that Kain has two remaining pieces of his soul. Thusly, as a Force vampire, he has a weapon to represent each. Mekura was introduced early on as a silver knife. Hakai is an incredibly powerful red doubled-bladed lightsaber [Hakai's version in Kain's mind is black].

Kain and Hakai are essentially identical beings so they can use the same power or abilities -which includes summoning Kyōbōna. Kyōbōna is Kain's first release [all fullbring have two releases while purebred vampires only have one]. Kyōbōna is a result of Kain merging Hakai and Mekura into a single devastating weapon [which we'll see in the next post hopefully].

A fullbring's first release is nowhere near the power of a purebred's release which is why I'm elaborating on it. Kain's final release [the equivalent of a purebred's release] will be revealed later. Hope all this is making sense.

Alaric and Sangria are dead? Had to be done...

Mortis never ceases to surprise ya does he? I'm so proud. ^_^ It's not over yet though. I mean sure he's escaped and all but there's still like 40-something valsai'ium who aren't going to be too happy that he's escaped. Plus Gaiden. Can't forget Gaiden. So this will be interesting to see how Central 49 reacts to Mortis's escapes and what exactly the Vampire King needs to break the Eighth Gate's seal... besides the seven keys of course.

Oh, and that sword up there Mortis is holding? Yeah that's Kodaiou. Mortis is pretty much a god so yeah, he can summon his sword no matter where he is. Cause he's bad ass like that.