Thread: Daggers of the Mind [Darkangel76 & Slairlayh]

As Riddick left the Necropolis, stretching his legs on slowly extending steps, the Lord Vaako immediately left to fill out his orders. Orders? From an outsider who had taken the place that he had risked his discipline and reputation for, it was humiliating. Even without the fair wife's naggings in his ear he could feel that tiny spark of heat burning inside his chest. It threatened to melt the ice that held the rest of his body in captivity. Riddick... He had swallowed every ounce of will it had taken him to resist a coup, and the consequence was failure. Even worse, it was not failure that led to a death he could at least find relief in, it was a failure that he was now required to endure in life. As soon as he reached the cargo bay his fist met with a nearby object. Whatever it was, it made quite the noise as it broke to pieces. Riddick could just as well have done the same to his crown, the faces of the Quasi-Dead. What pains Vaako had to endure as he aimed to take those faces for himself, and yet there stood the Furyan with his ghastly eyes, never even laying them on the head he was to wear as Lord Marshall. Vaako's Lord Marshall. But the deed had been done. If anything, Vaako had aided Riddick in the previous Marshall's demise. He wasn't sure what shamed him more the fact that he had attempted to usurp the throne, or that his actions had led to another usurper. Both accounts left him at a loss for what his role was in all this. He was Commander Vaako Lord Vaako he was supposed to help bring the Necromongers to the Underverse he was supposed to see the Underverse and transcend into something even greater he was supposed to transcend into a being of equal power to his faith. What was his faith now? Even if he reached the Underverse under Riddick, what sort of being would he become then? Nothing. Vaako pulled himself away from his deteriorating mind. A Necromonger did not need to think. Thinking was for the weak of heart and the weak of body. He needed to act. Even if it meant enduring this seemingly seething hatred of his Lord, acting was much better than thinking. Wasn't it true, anyway, that one pain's life allows another to die? He would live with that for now... For now... Hm? Something caught his attention. Those heavy soles in his boots contemplated against the metal surface of the floor, singing almost like screams of a bat pinpointing the disturbance of death in the bay. Something here...--He rushed some steps forward to lash his armored arm out at the back of a scout ship as he emerged from beside it.--...was alive. Prep this ship! The Lord Vaako's voice bellowed throughout the echoing chambers, gathering the attention of any nearby men on standby. If there was a stowaway here, the men would eventually find it. In the meantime, Aereon quite suddenly appeared beside the Riddick who sat on the very last step, his boots looking to have a certain unmovable weight about them. Has it been so long that you find your home gravity too heavy? She mused at the returned Furyan whose eyes were unreadable beneath the cover of his shades. Or is it, perhaps, that you are only now uncovering the rest of your past? She felt a burst of air move through her leg and then a pull of fabric in the opposite direction, her vision finding Riddick's hand wrapped around a corner of her cloak. He released her soon afterwards, however, and stood only to retreat back into the Necropolis and head to the cargo bay. Aereon did not follow him there, but as she reentered the ship herself and watched the Furyan walk away, she looked up to catch a glimpse of the Dame Vaako. Ah, that hot-blooded vixen whose contempt could not be held even by the death bars of Necro conversion. Indeed, not contempt nor fascination could be held back, for she was a passionate breed. It was perhaps, the Elemental mused, not surprising to see an attraction to a Furyan.