Post by vastrix on Jul 12, 2023 21:23:30 GMT -5
We find Armand von Krauss in his lavish bedroom in the airship he now shares with Victoria DiScorpio, though she is nowhere in sight. The room is set for extravagant tastes with half the room set up for Esmeralda’s clothing and half of it set up for Armand’s. He sits on the side of a four-post bed with a chain in his hands that each end has a collar on the end. He glides the chain links across his hands, slipping each link through his fingers. They will use the same dog collar for his match with Psychotic Goth to earn a shot at the World title.
Armand von Krauss: It has been a long time since I had to deal with a collar around my neck, Psychotic Goth. The Krimson Kharnival has faced destruction many times over the centuries. Never quite so devastating as when we were raided by Vikings in Scotland. It was many, many years ago and we were on the Northern Coast at an old castle that my location scout assured me was abandoned long before, but with wet bloodstains on the walls and floors…I knew better. Still, it was a lovely location with several villages nearby that would be interested in the fair.
So very long ago…
Armand von Krauss flinches as the lash strikes his bare back. He is chained to a rowing station along with many villagers and the survivors of his Krimson Kharnival. Vikings sacked his Kharnival and the surrounding villages, taking everyone they could as slaves to row their boats for them. All except for Esmeralda von Krauss, whom the Viking leader took as a lover. Armand grips his oar tight, nearly crushing it, as he thinks of his Esmeralda in the arms of another man.
He was wounded during the fighting, taking wounds that would have normally killed ten men. His wounds have healed as they always do, but the foul energies that keep him immortal are running low. If they run out, he becomes mortal and thus vulnerable to being slain like any other mortal.
Leiknir Gestsson, the Viking commander, stands at the prow of the boat with one arm around the waist of Esmeralda von Krauss. She giggles as he speaks obscenities about what he plans to do to her once they get to their home base in Norway.
This causes him to slow in his rowing, which causes the slavemaster to whip him some more. Armand slumps over the wooden plank that he is chained to. This cannot, will no, go on.
The slavemaster walks over to pull Armand upright and does so. Armand’s shape changes. His form shriveled into a blackened husk, his feet turning into a needle-sharp maw, his eyes glowing red, and his strength transformed into that of a demon. He wrenches his chain free of the wood, shattering the wooden beam that the chain was looped around. He brings the chain around the back of the neck of the frightened slavemaster and draws him in to be face-to-face with him. Armand’s mouth opens impossibly wide and a roar comes out. The slavemaster goes pale, his energies being torn from his body and given over to the ravenous hunger of Armand. Once the flow of energy stops, Armand uses his foul teeth of his to rip out the slavemaster’s throat. He stands up and steps into the center of the galley, easily snapping the chains holding his feet like tissue paper. He looks to Leiknir Gestsson and smiles an impossibly wide smile.
Armand von Krauss: Your end has come! RELEASE! MY! WIFE!
Leiknir does as commanded and draws his battleaxe, but his expression is pale as fright seems to overcome him, and his sanity bleeds out into the universe for Esmeralda and Armand to sup upon.
Leiknir Gestsson: What…what are you?
Armand smiles and picks up the slavemaster with a single hand, getting the keys from his corpse and tossing his body into the sea. He tosses the keys to the nearest slave and walks up to Leiknir.
Armand von Krauss: I am the master of the Kharnival. I am the master of chaos. No Viking will ever control my fate!
Armand charges Leiknir, who brings up his battleaxe to strike. Esmeralda glides a thin-edged silver dagger into his armpit and into his heart. Armand stops in his tracks and Leiknir drops the battleaxe behind him, looking to her in betrayal.
Esmeralda giggles, but her expression is predatory.
Esmeralda von Krauss: You thought that I was going to let your filthy Viking cock inside me, dahling? Pity this is a lesson that you take to a watery grave…
Armand walks over and pushes the mortally wounded Viking commander into the sea. He looks around to see that in addition to this boat, the slaves have risen up and overtaken their Viking masters on the other ships as well. Armand watches as the colors of the Krimson Kharnival rise high and Vikings are chained to their own oars. He looks at Esmeralda, stunned.
Armand von Krauss: How?
Esmeralda just hugs Armand tight.
Esmeralda von Krauss: My reach even goes to the Nordic bastards, dahling. Justice cannot be stopped.
Armand smiles. The Assassination Guild that Esmeralda has built has a vast influence on the known world. It warms and chills Armand that his wife should have so much power. At least she always comes back to him in the end.
Today.
Armand holds the chains in his hands with a sadistic smile.
Armand von Krauss: Expect to bleed, Goth. Expect to beg for mercy. Expect to find no quarter from me. I will have that title shot. I will have that title.
Armand von Krauss: It has been a long time since I had to deal with a collar around my neck, Psychotic Goth. The Krimson Kharnival has faced destruction many times over the centuries. Never quite so devastating as when we were raided by Vikings in Scotland. It was many, many years ago and we were on the Northern Coast at an old castle that my location scout assured me was abandoned long before, but with wet bloodstains on the walls and floors…I knew better. Still, it was a lovely location with several villages nearby that would be interested in the fair.
So very long ago…
Armand von Krauss flinches as the lash strikes his bare back. He is chained to a rowing station along with many villagers and the survivors of his Krimson Kharnival. Vikings sacked his Kharnival and the surrounding villages, taking everyone they could as slaves to row their boats for them. All except for Esmeralda von Krauss, whom the Viking leader took as a lover. Armand grips his oar tight, nearly crushing it, as he thinks of his Esmeralda in the arms of another man.
He was wounded during the fighting, taking wounds that would have normally killed ten men. His wounds have healed as they always do, but the foul energies that keep him immortal are running low. If they run out, he becomes mortal and thus vulnerable to being slain like any other mortal.
Leiknir Gestsson, the Viking commander, stands at the prow of the boat with one arm around the waist of Esmeralda von Krauss. She giggles as he speaks obscenities about what he plans to do to her once they get to their home base in Norway.
This causes him to slow in his rowing, which causes the slavemaster to whip him some more. Armand slumps over the wooden plank that he is chained to. This cannot, will no, go on.
The slavemaster walks over to pull Armand upright and does so. Armand’s shape changes. His form shriveled into a blackened husk, his feet turning into a needle-sharp maw, his eyes glowing red, and his strength transformed into that of a demon. He wrenches his chain free of the wood, shattering the wooden beam that the chain was looped around. He brings the chain around the back of the neck of the frightened slavemaster and draws him in to be face-to-face with him. Armand’s mouth opens impossibly wide and a roar comes out. The slavemaster goes pale, his energies being torn from his body and given over to the ravenous hunger of Armand. Once the flow of energy stops, Armand uses his foul teeth of his to rip out the slavemaster’s throat. He stands up and steps into the center of the galley, easily snapping the chains holding his feet like tissue paper. He looks to Leiknir Gestsson and smiles an impossibly wide smile.
Armand von Krauss: Your end has come! RELEASE! MY! WIFE!
Leiknir does as commanded and draws his battleaxe, but his expression is pale as fright seems to overcome him, and his sanity bleeds out into the universe for Esmeralda and Armand to sup upon.
Leiknir Gestsson: What…what are you?
Armand smiles and picks up the slavemaster with a single hand, getting the keys from his corpse and tossing his body into the sea. He tosses the keys to the nearest slave and walks up to Leiknir.
Armand von Krauss: I am the master of the Kharnival. I am the master of chaos. No Viking will ever control my fate!
Armand charges Leiknir, who brings up his battleaxe to strike. Esmeralda glides a thin-edged silver dagger into his armpit and into his heart. Armand stops in his tracks and Leiknir drops the battleaxe behind him, looking to her in betrayal.
Esmeralda giggles, but her expression is predatory.
Esmeralda von Krauss: You thought that I was going to let your filthy Viking cock inside me, dahling? Pity this is a lesson that you take to a watery grave…
Armand walks over and pushes the mortally wounded Viking commander into the sea. He looks around to see that in addition to this boat, the slaves have risen up and overtaken their Viking masters on the other ships as well. Armand watches as the colors of the Krimson Kharnival rise high and Vikings are chained to their own oars. He looks at Esmeralda, stunned.
Armand von Krauss: How?
Esmeralda just hugs Armand tight.
Esmeralda von Krauss: My reach even goes to the Nordic bastards, dahling. Justice cannot be stopped.
Armand smiles. The Assassination Guild that Esmeralda has built has a vast influence on the known world. It warms and chills Armand that his wife should have so much power. At least she always comes back to him in the end.
Today.
Armand holds the chains in his hands with a sadistic smile.
Armand von Krauss: Expect to bleed, Goth. Expect to beg for mercy. Expect to find no quarter from me. I will have that title shot. I will have that title.
