#sirus falkenrath

[night-mtg]

Sirus’ Origin: Crimson Honour

Run. Just run.

Don’t stop for anything. Not for blood, not to rest. Nothing!

Can’t stop. Not now. If I do, they’ll take me... Like my home village did Mother and Father so long ago.

OW!

Crap! Got a cramp! Great timing that. Gotta hide... There!

Sirus ducked behind a tree, gasping for breath. He peered from behind, watching a group of well-armed cathars speed by on horseback. He sighed, rubbing his left leg. Despite the over 200 years of experience, he still wasn’t used to long distance running.

“Damned cathars... Can’t leave me alone for more than a week. Then again...” He smirked. “I wouldn’t either.”

A few more minutes passed. Once again, Sirus looked from behind his tree. He sighed with great relief. Nothing and no-one in sight. He could get away easily and get back to the hideout without the risk of being killed. At least, that would’ve been the case had one cathar, a recruit lagging behind, not strode up right in front of him. He cursed under his breath, wiping a strand of black hair from his eyes. The cathar glared at him, taking out a crossbow.

“You move, I shoot.”

Sirus rolled his eyes. “Well that’s not a very creative threat, now is it? You lot really need to change it up every now and again to keep me terrified. I mean, you’re the fifth one to say that today. and I was bored by the second time.” Wisps of red started to form around Sirus’ hands.

The cathar pulled back his crossbow, training it on the vampire. “I’m warning you!”

He had failed to notice the red cloud leaking from Sirus’ hands up until that point. “What the-?” His question was interrupted by the feeling of his very soul being sucked out. The cathar struggled, firing the crossbow bolt into a tree, before falling to the ground, dead. Sirus chuckled.

“Idiots... Tasty, though.”

He beckoned at the cloud. It shuddered before being sucked back into his hand. The cathar had little knowledge of the major detail of what made Sirus a threat: his sangromancy. A bit of blood and mana, he could create a deadly red mist that, should it be necessary, drain the life force from any unfortunate soul caught in it. The catch was if it wasn’t reabsorbed, then it would dissipate. Let alone the cumulative effect of using the mist at all Too much use, and he risked exsanguination...

“ Stupider than simply biting them, but it gives me access to more victims at once...”

The sound of hooves pounding against the ground snapped Sirus from his thoughts. He turned and ran like hell, not wanting to get caught. After a bit of running, he found it: an abandoned fortress, formerly under the control of the Voldarens. The Falkenraths had since taken over for their own purposes in order to plan for the reclamation of Castle Falkenrath from the ever annoying church. He knew what his task was: whenever these meetings took place, he was to help guard the fortress. He thought he heard the sound of a twig snapping, but calmed down when he saw nothing. The droning of the Falkenraths inside failed to drown out the new sounds of a few cultists praying to demons of old.

Madness. Unadulterated madness. Makes the Emrakul shit and what happened with Markov’s pet project look sane.

Sirus drew his weapon: Bloody Glory, an iron broadsword that he’d been using for a long time. He’d forgotten how long he had it, or when he’d last sharpened it, but it did its job well enough.

The sound of snapping twigs confirmed what he had brushed off: there was someone else here.

“WHO GOES THERE?!”

No one replied.

“I KNOW YOU’RE THERE! SHOW YOURSELF!”

A nearby bush rustled, as a young man and woman emerged from behind it. The man had short scruffy black hair and simple clothing, but not anything native to Innistrad. The woman seemed to sparkle with the moonlight, even in the shade. Sirus snarled.

“Who are you?”

The man was taken aback by the vampire’s anger. “Whoa! Hey now. No need to be angry. Just calm down.”

The woman, however, smirked. “You don’t look so tough.”

Sirus glared at her. The man elbowed the woman in the ribs. “Altea, we don’t need him going off at as. If he does...”

“If he does, I’ll kick his ass,” she interrupted.

Sirus growled, lunging at the woman, whose name he now knew was Altea. “For your insolence, I’ll have your head.”

The man intercepted Sirus’ blow with his own sword, his eyes ablaze. “We don’t want trouble. Just. Calm. Down. Or it won’t be her head being taken.”

Sirus’ eyes glowed a dull red. “Fine...”

A hiss echoed throughout the area. The man was surprised. “What in the multiverse?”

Sirus didn’t know what this newcomer was on about, but he knew that hiss. “Voldarens... A lot of them.”

Altea laughed. “Perfect. New training targets.”

The man muttered, his eyebrows furrowing. “Great... Hate those uppity bastards. And Altea, I don’t think you could take on an army’s worth of Voldarens. Know somewhere safe?” He turned to Sirus. The vampire, taken aback by the fact they wanted his help, thought about it.

“Yeah. I know a place. Shadowgrange. Not too far. Come on.”

For the second time that night, Sirus ran for his life. His heart was pounding, his legs were burning, but he couldn’t stop. Not if he wanted to see the next sunset. The man and his partner followed close behind, the latter taunting the Voldarens. The small group was joined by a second man, who seemed to pop in out of nowhere. Sirus’ jaw dropped.

“Where the hell did you come from?!”

The first man looked to the second. “Ah, Jorge. Good to see you again.”

Jorge looked at his friend. “Same with you, Lotran. What exactly are we running from?”

“A hefty number of Voldarens.”

Jorge scowled. “Them again?”

Lotran nodded. “They always seem to know where we are when we come here.���  Sirus was thoroughly baffled. He had no memory of seeing any of these people before, and yet they knew of the Voldarens and how much of a threat they posed.

Forget it, he thought. I’ll ask when we reach Shadowgrange.

When the quartet arrived in the village, they were all panting heavily. The townsfolk were, for the most part, able to ignore them. But what none of them knew was that one man was hiding. Watching. Waiting...

Sirus looked at the three strangers. “Ok. Now I want answers. Where did you-”

Lotran interrupted him. “Thank you for that. Hey, I never asked. Who are you?”

The vampire smirked. “I’m Sirus. Sirus Falkenrath.”

“Ah. Well, again. thank you, Sirus.”

Sirus was still curious about where these people came from. Altea looked at Jorge. “Do you think the Gods would be able to do anything here?”

Sirus looked at the woman. “Gods?”

“Altea, I don’t think the Gods have any influence outside of Theros.”

Altea frowned. Sirus had grown more confused.

“Theros? What are you on about?!”

Lotran smiled at the vampire. “You’ve never seen or heard of a planeswalker before?”

“Planes-what?!” Sirus’ curiosity was well and truly peaked. Lotran laughed at the confusion in his response.

“Planeswalker. You know, people who can traverse the empty space between worlds to go from one to another. All three of us are, in fact” The other two nodded, then went back on with their chat.

“I see. So you can go to other worlds. I don’t know whether to envy you for such a unique skill, or pity you as you can never really settle down into a normal life.”

Lotran chuckled. “I never said it was an easy life, did I?”

THUNK! THUD!

Screams echoed around the village as they watched a man on a balcony crash to the ground, a crossbow bolt sticking from his head. The four looked in the direction the bolt came from, Sirus locking eyes with the possible killer. The green eyes had a craziness about them. A familiar craziness...

“Lucius...”

Sirus only had time to say this as, with another THUNK!, a bolt found its mark in Sirus’ stomach. The others looked at him, each a little concerned. Sirus closed his eyes, thinking that he was about to embrace death as though it were a long lost lover. But, he had no such luck. Instead, it felt as though his entire being was pulled apart, atoms evaporating, cells vanishing into smoke, and a great burning sensation coursing through what remained of him. Sirus bellowed, but nothing heard his screams.

After what felt like hours, Sirus opened his eyes once more. He was somewhere he didn’t recognise. Great trees surrounded him, the ground thick with undergrowth. The only thing he knew was he was in a sort of forest. But... Where?

A pair of strange creatures, one male and one female, that looked like a mix of man and cat answered his question... Well, sort of.

“You trespass in the Anima’s land, strange one.”

“Anima? What are you on about?”

“Hazeer, he’s clearly not Nayan. He doesn’t know what you mean by the ‘Anima’.”

“All should know, Mair, whether they’re from Naya or Esper.”

“Esper? Naya? I’m... Very confused.”

The male scruffed Sirus. “Smart guy, eh? Let’s see you be smart when I throw you to a God!”

“Hey! Get off!”

The female looked concerned. “Hazeer... Leave him alone. The boy must be terrified.”

At least she makes sense, Sirus thought. Hazeer snarled, raising Sirus. The vampire thrashed about, frantically unleashing his sangromantic mist in the process. Hazeer laughed, then choked, then screamed, then went silent as he fell to the ground, releasing his grip on Sirus. The female panicked, then looked at Sirus. Judging by the frantic motions of his headand the look on his face, he was incredibly lost, scared, and confused. She took pity on him. Mair approached him. Sirus backed away.

“Please... Don’t hurt me.”

“Hurt you? Why would I?” She placed a paw on Sirus’ shoulder. “I won’t hurt you. Just trust me on this. My name, as you heard him say, is Mair. I’m a mystic. Who are you?”

“...” “Come on. Don’t be afraid.”

“... Sirus.”

“There. That wasn’t hard, was it?”

Sirus shook his head. He still didn’t know where he was, or what in the Heron’s name he was looking at, but it seemed logical to just shake his head.

“Good. Now, how about I take you to the tribe? The other leonin in particular will be most intrigued.” She started to walk away.

Leonin, eh? Probably what the species calls themselves, Sirus thought as he followed Mair deeper into the forest.