Board Thread:Talkplays/@comment-4211788-20161219065535/@comment-5255416-20161219105851

Within the dreary remains of an abandoned castle, the only things left to decorate the  coffin was dust and cobwebs. The coffin dwells in the throne room, where a king had once occupied so that he could enforce his rule upon a kingdom that has ceased to be. Time has passed since then, but how much is unknown.

It has been months since this fortress last received a visitor; their bones still tucked neatly away in the dungeons. No one else dares to attempt to reclaim it, for they would have to come face-to-face with the occupant of the coffin. She had neglected last night to close the dust-painted curtains, and now sunlight bathes upon her coffin lid. So the occupant remains confined in her slumber with nothing but her thoughts.

She knew that it was only a matter of time until she would have to find a more populated location to settle into. Her previous victims could no longer provide any sustenance and there was no doubt that she would receive no more guests here. So why was she still here? Sentiments. Yes, that was the issue. This castle filled her with too many sentimental thoughts and feelings. She would likely have to destroy this castle before she moved-

The coffin occupant suddenly senses a disturbance forming in the throne room, and before she can react at all, a hooded figure appears, standing over the casket. The defenseless occupant senses the intruder's power and realizes that even if the curtain was closed and she could break out, she was incapable of slaying this person. All the figure had to do was lift up her coffin's lid and expose her to the sunlight and then she would be helpless as he finished her off with a decisive blow to the heart. In just a mere second, she had been defeated, and the feeling of powerlessness overwhelmed her. And so she simply lie in wait for death to embrace her a second time.

But the monk known as Numen had no desire to slay her. He turned away from the coffin and slowly made his way to the window. He felt a brief wave of apprehensiveness as he approached the curtains, wondering if perhaps this one is a mistake. Knowing there was no turning back, however, he pulled the curtains over the window, blocking out the light and engulfing the room in darkness.

"You must wonder why I am here. Why don't you come out and we can talk face-to-face," Numen offered to the dweller in the coffin.

Now it was the coffin occupant's turn to be uncertain. She could not infer as to what the intruder's motives were or if he really had no intention to destroy her, but she was no fool and knew that she was not in a position to make objections. And so after a moment's pass, the coffin's lid slowly rose and fell to the side as a black-furred squirrel rose from the confines.

"You are quite bold to intrude upon the domain of a vampire," she challenged, making a point to display her fangs.

"You must be a royal one, at that, to live in such a grand estate. I pardon for intruding upon you, your Majesty," the Monk jests, though there is no real emotion behind what he says.

This takes the vampire aback. Mere moments ago, this mystery man had demonstrated that he could easily destroy her, and now he was making jokes at her expense.

"Why are you here?" she demanded.

"I have a proposition for you-"

"I don't do assassinations," she interrupted.

"It is nothing of that sort. I would never ask of a royal to dirty their own hands."

This routine of switching between seriousness and humor was quickly getting on her nerves. It reminded her of a time long ago. Judging from the way that the stranger was studying her, she was beginning to suspect that he somehow knew that she would be reacting this way. It was as if he knew her past.

"Stop wasting my time and tell me what you want."

Numen sighed, knowing that now was the time to get to business. "I need you to help retrieve a relic for me. The Voice of Spirits. The world is depending on you acquiring it." He did not bother presenting her the image he had shown the previous heroes, for he knew it would do no good.

"I don't give a care about the world. Let it rot," the vampire proclaimed, as the Monk had predicted.

"Perhaps it would be best if I show you why you will want to assist me, Taura the Terror," the Monk sighed. Before Taura could say anything, he placed a hand back on the curtain and slowly drew it a few inches. A small ray of sunshine poured back into the room and the vampire, shrieking, practically flew behind the coffin for cover. Numen quickly re-closed the curtains after his point was made.

"You see? Though you have gained great power through death, you still lack the strength to even survive a ray of sunlight. If you perform this task as I ask you, I assure you that you will gain what you seek. If you are unwilling to bring back the Voice of Spirits for the world, then do it for yourself."

There was a long silence, but eventually the vampire broke it. "You promise that I'll become powerful if I find your relic?"

"One way or another."

That was all she needed to hear.

"Very well, I shall find it for you. I just hope you do not come to regret asking for my help."

"We shall see." Numen rendered her unconscious as he did the others. With a great difficulty, he carried the vampire back into her coffin and returned the lid, then sent it away to the island using his powers. By the time he was finished, the Monk was panting. "Still two more to go..."