[OOC: Let the games begin. ;)]

Fear, or the lesser emotion of unease, are never absent even among the powerful; perhaps even more so among the powerful, for those individuals have the most to lose. The peoples of Kurayo, the city of artificial darkness, consisted of some of the most fearsome races – Drow, vampires and werewolves – yet that power did not prevent them from having unease toward certain locations near their homes. One such place was an abandoned mansion on the edge of town. It was a run-down building of greater age than its nearest counterparts. A stone wall had been built around the entire property, showing clear signs of having been extended upward after its completion. It was shabby, a mere husk of what magnificence it must have held in a former life. The only decoration remaining to suggest against an otherwise humble origin was a dilapidated nameplate at the front gate filled with nail holes, an allusion to the many family names that had once graced the estate.
 
Superstition abounded from tales about this mysterious structure even among the vampire aristocracy. Rumor had it the ancient abode was cursed, and, even though the origin of the curse was always speculated upon, the stories were enough to keep even the strong away in the absence of a clear threat. This decision was not without good reason, either, for every mortal soul that had entered that place in the last decade, no matter how powerful or undead, was never seen again.
 
As always, though, there are those who do not heed warnings, no matter how earnest. A man with nothing to lose is especially susceptible to the temptations of treasure left behind by former inhabitants. One, Aaron White, fell into this category of vagabond. A middle-aged scholar who had studied magical artifacts for most of his life, Mr. White had travelled into the land of darkness in search of a single item: the Sirn d'Seke L'forn - or Mirror of True Reflection as it is called in the common tongue.
 
According to White's research, the Sirn d'Seke L'forn was actually part of a collection of Drow artifacts that were said to reflect one's true self – hence the name – and thereby allow the user to, potentially, correct weaknesses they might otherwise not have seen. This ability would be particularly useful in a society that prized strength, so these artifacts were jealously guarded by their owners during the era in which they were used. Until a certain event led to most of them being zealously destroyed, the Seke L'forn artifacts were some of the most luxurious and desirable items one could possess in Drow society.  What destructive event led to the complete reversal of the status of these symbols is anyone's guess, for much of the material on the Seke L'forn artifacts had been destroyed by the same happenings. The Drow went to great lengths to cover up the nature of the artifacts, and only through smuggling had some information and items managed to escape the mass culling.
 
Professor White had acquired that information, and it was what led him to the knowledge of the mirror. The Sirn d'Seke L'forn, also known as the centerpiece of the entire Seke L'forn collection, was very likely to have been owned by the Whicker family: a once powerful vampire clan that possessed the unique ability to create wax through the use of magic.  Aaron had spent the last five years tracking down any potential locations this family might have resided at, and that search eventually coalesced on one, particular home: Sepulcher Manor – one of the former names of the cursed mansion. Paying no heed to the rumors about the place, White had sped off to Kurayo not a moment after he was fully prepared. In truth, he had little choice but to do that in the first place. Aaron White was, after all, dying.
 
The diagnosis had come from a shaman he visited monthly in order to maintain his health. Professor White had always been sickly as a child, and was lucky to have lived as long as he had; but his luck ran out when he discovered that disease was finally consuming him. His heart had been getting weaker, and he was even starting to cough up blood recently. White's physician predicted the scholar had no more than a few years to live; and, although evidence to that specific figure was lacking, Aaron was inclined to agree.
 
"I will gladly accept death at this point in my life," White had said not more than three months ago, "But I would have my wish fulfilled before I go." Like many humans, the man had always struggled with the question of "Who am I?" He always had doubts that he was truly meant for the scholar's life, always wishing to know what his true self really represented. The mirror was an opportunity to grant that wish, and so he had begun searching for it even before he knew he was dying. That was why he didn't care about the danger of the manor. If he was going to die anyway, he might as well get his final wish.
 
With this conviction held high, White arrived at the front entrance of the abandoned mansion. His backpack full of supplies was slung firmly over his shoulders, and the mundane, fur cap on his head was blowing slightly in the wind.
 
"A storm is coming," he thought whilst guarding the light of his lantern – the sole guardian standing between him and the eternal darkness covering the land. For some time, he had just been standing in front of Sepulcher Manor, taking in every last detail of its ancient structure. Even a fool could easily discern the unsettling aura coming from the place and know that rushing in could mean death before success. A thick atmosphere encapsulated the edifice, feeding off the area around it. The sheer leech of despair was enough to dim the fire of hope in the professor, if only for a moment.
 
"This place," he said gravely just before working up the courage to step closer to the front gate, "It has the stench of death about it."
 
 

Fear in of itself was a delightful thing in his eyes. From the mightiest of knights, to the most revered kings and queens, to the ones with the blackest of hearts, they all had something that wedged terror in them. It was a savory dish that Nemesis could ever have; wherever he went, as long as it had some sort of beings, fear was sure to follow. Even in this neck of the woods city known as Kurayo, its residents were filled to the brim of doubt and fright. Many of them weren't accepted by the society composed of the majority and even among themselves, there was always the matters of being the most powerful, the swiftest, the most alluring for mates, etc. As he calmly strolled on through the streets that that combed the city's perimeter, they passed by him. The freaks of nature, the misfits that were cursed because of what they were. They had all gathered with the hope that they wouldn't be judged as they were outside the island. Werewolves and shapeshifters, vampires, the drow, and all others with ill reputations carried the same hope. But he knew the truth that beneath their cheery or territorial demeanor were those that were bothered by constant thoughts and beliefs of feeling inadequate, alone and lost, even in small dosages. He could see it in their eyes as they walked on or were conducting their own business. He himself was not an exception to the ruling, however he was willing enough to admit his shortcomings and what it was that spooked him at night. It made him better than all those that denied themselves and continued to struggle and bat away their demons. It was a fight that would be won by them, and it was just so much easier to give in to it, to let themselves be drowned by it rather than living in such denial.

In this place, not even their beloved moon would be enough to protect them.

To them, Nemesis was but a strange fellow as he walked with a grin and a rushed pace as if he was going to some predesignated place. But there was none specifically that he had in mind and they knew what sort of abomination he was so most of them left him alone, aside from a few careful glances. He needed no reason other than to find some lost sheep so that he could herd and feast upon them. At least in a figurative sense, but he wouldn't mind dining on them at the dinner table. With the crafty smile widening, he nearly skipped his way out from the city for there was a scent that caught his nose just briefly ago. Someone was out beyond Kurayo's limits and golden eyes laid onto the silhouette of what looked to be an adult's, more likely a man's as it melded into the darkened surroundings up ahead. "A little sheep lost its way from the its herd." The thought sent a shiver of excitement down his spine, leaving him with a tingling sensation all over his body. It was pure ecstasy. His pace quickened even more as he escaped the busy city to hunt down an unfortunate prey. But there was a question that couldn't stop poking at him with each step carrying him forward- just what was this person doing out here? So many twists and turns could play out from this and it merely feed his interest in this all the more. Perhaps it was just another person who was trying to outrun their problems or was about to bring forth new ones. Either way, it would make no difference until he learned their purpose and dealt with it accordingly. Long, wildly black locks flew against the cold breeze brushing by; Venti was already settling in but the chill hardly did a thing for him. To be so far from even the confides of this society, this individual must have been on a mission of their own. If not, then why else would they be so willing to come out here? He could barely tell that anything was out here save for a mansion that had seen better years. It was quite old as he walked on, letting his fingers slide across the stonewall. It was anyone's guest as to how long it had been since it saw visitors and perhaps that was what this stranger was here for. From a distance, he could see the faint signs of light ahead and slowly made his approach. Like a moth to the fire, he descended towards it, his footsteps becoming more audible the closer he got. By the time he stopped, his appearance could be seen outside the light and warmth produced by the lantern. "Death is all around us my friend", he spoke calmly as he stood casually. "This place is no different honestly. Although from the looks of this place, it hasn't seen much of life in its walls, well aside from us now. For what purpose that might we be out here on this night?"

A senior official from the Wyllmochvar University, White was rarely caught off guard during his career. Especially as a hunter of magical artifacts, he had often been called to confront dangerous traps, mechanisms, monsters and even people. Yet age and illness had already begun to addle his senses as he stood in front of Sepulcher Manor. The professor was barely aware that he was being watched when the man known only as "Nemesis" began his approach. Too preoccupied by the manor's aura and unable to multi-task as well as he used to in the past, White did not notice the stranger until he heard a voice devoid of fear.
 
It was only then that he felt the evil within. The strange interloper possessed some remnant of vampirism unique to the surrounding landscape. For all intents and purposes, Nemesis appeared marginally human, but not completely. Only by observing those yellow eyes gleaming in his lantern's light and the generally, bloodthirsty aura being given off was White able to recognize the difference in Nemesis.
 
"Death is abundant in this world in general," the professor said in a raspy voice while turning to face his likely agent of destruction, "but it is certainly best to be cautious when it becomes palpable like it is here – even for those who know their inevitable fate.  Sepulcher Manor has a history that does not bode well on its own in the first place." His tone was surprisingly calm, despite the fear that this creature was likely accustomed to invoking. Professor White knew very well that fighting Nemesis would either hasten his death or cause it, but this knowledge did not raise concern like it normally would have had the two met in the years prior. The artifact hunter had already accepted his fate months ago; so, rather than be afraid, he simply offered his free hand in gesture of truce: something to appease the reaper. "Professor Aaron White: Department of Magical Artifacts at the Wyllmochvar University. I'm here investigating the possibility that one of the fabled True Reflection Artifacts may be lying here in Sepulcher Manor."
 
Giving proper time for the handshake and an introduction, White quickly turned back toward the manor and walked forward anew. He was anxious to get started, but that eagerness combined with action would be his undoing. His fate had already been sealed.
 
Foolishly ignoring the subtle breathing down his neck that such an advance wrought, the Professor sprung the trap.  He believed it was just his imagination or his new "friend" attempting to make him feel uncomfortable. In truth, he would soon discover that those who entered Sepulcher Manor could not so easily leave. Indeed, so oblivious was this "pawn" that all he could think about as the intangible rope tightened around his neck was his ultimate request to the creature standing behind him.
 
"If you're here to kill me, I'll ask that you refrain from attempting to do so until my search is complete."

"Take the words and spin them around before one just pass them on…", Nemesis replied subtly, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet, his arms folded behind his back. Whether the man was confirming his words or was simply trying to out do him for the sake of whatever, he didn't give it too much thought. His presence hadn't spooked the man, but given the atmosphere around them, it wasn't completely surprising to see how much of a stonewall he was. It did take a healthy amount of bravery to not only make it through the city but also to this isolated place. Bravery or false bravado that was. Oh how he had hoped it was the latter; he wanted to see how long he would last before the grasp of fear would take a tight hold around him. Continuing with the motion, his eyes scaled over to the mansion. Was it cursed? Was it merely wild stories and tall tales that kept the residents at bay. Being monsters and those of more sinister intent, he'd imagine whatever laid upon these grounds to be something of complete terror. His body came to a halt and with a long step forward, he came into the light.


A small smile revealed not a single sign of the sharp canines that one would find common in these parts. His sight lowered to the extended hand and brought his own from behind to return the gesture, as absurd as the idea seemed. But then again, Nemesis' whole existence was simply that- absurd. "A pleasure. Jace Silverstone of Egjora." Truthfully that was who he was, or more so had once been known as before his awakening. Back when he was just an average man of humble beginnings, ignorant of the world and the truths it kept secret from the rest of them all this time.
And so when Aaron decided to press forward, he followed behind from a distance.


"Ah, a man of Wyllmochar. I'd imagine that you kept from the general public here, which is good for you, my friend. Being not only a mortal man, but also one from there is reason enough for the wolves to want to rip into you. Either them or the drow anyway." This Aaron White, something was quite off about him. Him and the reason why he was here. He couldn't quite put a finger on why, but it was. Nothing nothing done in the dark would stay there forever. Sooner or later his hungry mind would learn all that he needed to know. That and of what secrets this manor housed as well. An ominous feeling grasped him, all the way down to his bones. There was something malicious here and he took it all in in stride instead of filling himself with false courage. Fear was rational and instinctive, yet many wouldn't admit and give into it. That was where he differed from other humans; he let it wash against him and from it, it made him stronger. More honest than the rest. What wasn't prepared for was White's request which made him freeze in place and look onto him with a tilted head the way a child looked curiously at something unexplainable in their eyes. The confusion didn't last for long and a smirk replaced his bewildered look.


“Kill? What's the fun in that? Unlike the abnormalities here, I have no reason to want for something so barbaric. Perhaps in another life that would have been the case, but I hungry for something grander. I seek out something far more abstract. But as bizarre as the request is, I suppose that I can wait until after you're done then, Sir.” The smile secretly widened; although blood and gore was far from what he desired, it was taking a peek, a small peek into White's mind that he wanted. Well, that and to swim around in it and seek how much it could take before it breaks.

A man of riches garbed in drab clothing: a living oxymoron. The professor found such a reality hard to accept. Even in Parvpora, Egjora was known for its financial kings and rather brutal fashion of class warfare. Jace, as he called himself, carried on with the poise of an upper class family member, yet he dressed like an indentured servant. The whole ensemble seemed to be incompatible excluding an instance of sheer arrogance.
 
'Perhaps he was a runaway?'
 
Aaron thought intently on the issue for a moment, but quickly dropped it in favor of moving on with his search. His lack of trust for Jace may not have shown upfront, but it was very deeply rooted in his mind already. The man's aura oozed deceit, and, for all Professor White knew,"Jace Silverstone of Egjora" could very well have been an alias made up on the spot. At the very least, the yellow-eyed did show a general knack for comprehending social constraints. That was something the academic could work with.
 
"That was one reason I avoided them, at least," White began when Jace mentioned the distaste of Koschei inhabitants toward Wyllmochvar citizens. "I desire knowledge, not combat. I've especially no use of past grudges or any interest in hunting wolves like my ancestors did. "
 
White could say no more on the matter, due largely to his mistrust of the outsider. If he had been completely honest, the main reason he had avoided the city was that he didn't want to get mired in the bureaucratic squabbling of the official route. There was no truly official course when it came to the Kurayo council, yes, but the professor still could have requisitioned protection and funding from the university along with a diplomatic envoy to the council had he wanted it. Such things took time, unfortunately: time he did not have. Because of this, Aaron had risked the trip to Sepulcher Manor with barely a word to university administration. He had bypassed so many security protocols that, if anyone had found out where he was going, they would have stopped him and brought down the hammer.
 
Yet that was how much the mirror meant to him. The Professor's looming death put the rules into perspective, and rules never survive such tests. Even as he finally reached the main doors of the mansion, he willingly admitted to himself that he was breaking several academic regulations in the university code of conduct. He didn't care, and went straight into examining the structure as if it were the only thing that mattered – all while ignoring Jace's feeble denial of intended violence.
 
"These symbols are old," he said after wiping away the top layer of dust on the door with his dirty, overcoat sleeve. Beneath lay glyphs of pictographic language, so old that one had to be a researcher of dead languages to even recognize where they came from. "They come from before the Godslayer war. Let me see here." White set down his backpack, took out a dusty tome, and opened it to page fifty as one would had they completely memorized the layout of a book but not the data within. "Yes, here it is. A rough translation would be, 'The place where the eyes of Gods cannot see is also the place where Monsters be.' Cryptic, as usual. I doubt I'll be able to decipher it further without finding more evidence."
 
Ghastly wind whipped up after the artifact hunter finished speaking. It blew out from underneath the door like a miasma, and assailed the two men standing nearby. Professor White managed to shield himself with an air bubble around his face before the mist rose too high, but he did not realize that the gas was simply a diversionary tactic. Without any time to react or counterattack, he had been ported inside the house. Only when the professor suddenly found himself in a hallway of portraits did he realize that the miasma was really a gate. The house had swallowed him like the predatory plant swallows the curious fly, and, in the process, it took away both his entrance and exit.
 
"That explains why people didn't simply escape from the house if they had even an inkling of being in danger," White remarked whilst maintaining his air shield. "Sepulcher Manor is a trap for some form of predator." Taking care not to let his guard down, the professor began looking around to see if Jace had been caught too. Even if he didn't trust the man, Aaron knew working together with Silverstone provided the best probability for escape. They needed each other if they had both been trapped. "Mr. Silverstone, are you still with me?"
 
 

Nemesis was an enigma to many that crossed his path. His methods and even his motives were entirely shrouded by mystery to all save for him. Some may believe that the blade of a sword and the most powerful of spells were the greatest weapons to wield, but he preferred to use trust and treachery in  tandem to ensnare those of his choosing in a web of ever shifting truths and lies to keep them guessing. People generally feared what they had no understanding of, and such things entertained him when he had to not even lift a finger to get that ball rolling. For this professor, he had not spoken a single lie to him yet- perhaps a sidestep or two were taken, but a blunt lie never escaped his lips. There was no need for such a thing.

His appearance also spoke volumes for those that found it bizarre that a man born in poverty and didn't even have two coins to rub together could make a travel out of his homeland. And especially if he came from a city like Egjora, which worked to his advantage at times due to the masses' single minded belief into the stereotypes of only the most wealthy and aggressive living there. While it was known of how the ruling class was ruthless and cutthroat, there was little attention paid towards those beneath their boots, like his family. Those that had to labor and work just to barely survive due to the the high merchants' tariffs and other taxes apposed upon them, along with the strong-arming behind the scenes. People truly could never see anything beyond what laid right in front of them as far as he was concerned.

"While that is you reason to avoid them, they likely would hate you any for being human and setting foot here", he said plainly. "Such bad blood coarse through their veins for our kind for centuries. Being cast from the mainland and having to come here only to be invaded by the very beings that uprooted them in the first place could do that for some", he spoke, stroking at his chin smoothly. Though he himself was supposedly still human, there was some noticeable changes in him that was enough to separate him from the rest of the flock. That alone was what had kept him at bay with the wolves from having them rip and tear his flesh apart. For the rest of its people, Nemesis had no interesting in dealing with them on the matters of offered protection or even an alliance of sorts. He needed not for little angry pups and those that cower from the outside world. They aspired to uphold their rule through carnage and hatred; while he considered himself more civilized in his methods.

Coming across to the entrance, Nemesis nonchalantly glanced at the message, unable to translate it himself but fortunately White was able to for some of it. "Suppose it makes sense. It's a common tale that back when the continents were one, the side that eventually became Parvpora were without Gods of it own for some time before the Tree gave life to its child." Although, the rest of it made little since to him, well at least until he felt the strong wind blow against them from within the house. It was something that he hadn't planned for and was genuinely appalled as it consumed him. His arm went to shield his face as it brought his body inside. Escaping it seemed fruitless and being his arm down, he could see just where they resided now.

"Unfortunately so, Mr. White." He hadn't planned on being kept a hostage by the house, or by whatever had brought them inside. "Whatever force has done this will likely keep us here, for whatever unholy desires it has in stored. If there is any possible ways for escaping, I doubt it will be obvious. The windows and doors seemed useless and whatever dangers resided here were surely lurking in the shadows deep within the manor. But the area would have to be searched regardless as he took the initiate and looked around the front hall. Time itself has seemed to stop in these parts and little evidence showed of others that had been here before them. Perhaps there were some more clues left behind to tell what had happened here or at least offer some assistance to get them out. 

'And yet I care not for their petty racism.' The Professor was tired of the conversation about him being out of place - even though his guest seemed intent on pursuing it - and so he merely thought his response rather than vocalize it. He was old, and running out of time. He didn't have the luxury or patience of entertaining other people's bigotry; especially not when the mirror's potential proximity concerned him so. The pawn didn't even realize how obsessed he was becoming over the object. The mirror was, slowly but surely, becoming his sole focus. Even so, he wasn't quite far gone enough to ignore Silverstone's attempt at academia.
 
"Which would make sense," he began after clearing his throat in front of the door, "if this manor were constructed during those times. The records I found indicated otherwise. Besides, these don't look like they were part of the original architect's plans. The glyphs have been carved by a knife." For what little time he and his guest had left outside, the Professor managed to point out the barely visible, jagged edges that lined the figures in question. Age had worn most of them away, but careful inspection revealed that the pictographs had not been written by someone with a careful hand. The scribe had been terrified, and the smoke that dragged the two men inside the mansion mere moments later was a good enough answer as to why.
 
Jace's accompaniment inside the manor was a bittersweet addition to Professor White's day after that point. An extra pair of hands, even unwilling ones in the presence of proper motivation, were always useful when caught in a trap. There was no mistaking that Mr. Silverstone would have much preferred not getting ensnared at all, but his self-esteem was at an appreciable level for proper application. The only drawback was that White didn't care for him or his arrogance. Thankfully, those attributes were ignorable for a time.
 
"I suppose that, since you've become a part of my 'Dig' against your will, you should know more about the artifacts and manor in question." Aaron placed the book he had used to translate the door back into his backpack and, in its place, took his journal up from the hip. Opening to the final few pages, he reviewed the material within. "This manor is not actually called Sepulcher Manor. It was a long time ago, and that simply remained as the most infamous name because it housed the Whicker vampire clan at the time. I suspect that the cause of this trap wiped out their entire clan because vague scouting reports indicate they simply vanished one day. As for the artifact I'm hunting, it's part of a former set of Drow artifacts whose names were commonly translated to 'True Reflection.' These artifacts were intended as high society items, used by powerful individuals to show them their own weaknesses that they might correct before opponents exploited them. Unfortunately, most of these artifacts, along with their methods of production, were purged during some sort of culling in history. Details are sketchy, because the dark elves are thorough, but the Drow apparently discovered something about the artifacts that frightened them enough to destroy as many as they could. It just so happens that at least one mirror escaped that fate, and my research leads me to believe that it ended up here."
 
Suddenly, he heard it. In tandem with the closing of White's journal, a shrill, unearthly sound echoed down the hall. It was not of human, monster, or any discernible racial origin from Revaliir. Instead, the sound was like rain during a particularly heavy storm. It continued for several seconds until giving way to an actual quartet of men.
 
"The old time Religion. The old time Religion. The old time Religion is good enough for me!" The voices were faint, muddled by the ever present background noise; and a loud beep denoted the ending of their lyric. Quiet, feminine chuckling from the far end of the hallway followed that tone, and, while Aaron's eyes were quick, he only caught a glimpse of the source before she vanished. A raven haired woman of ethereal beauty had been standing next to a flower pot, looking straight at the professor with piercing blue eyes and a grin of satisfaction. Her visage shook him worse than he anticipated, and a cold sweat broke out on his forehead just after she disappeared. Little did he realize he had just fallen as the first victim of a curse that would plague the people of Revaliir for many years to come. Even the paintings on the hallway wall knew it, having turned the gazes of all their subjects toward the marked professor.