Rizardo - The Blackest Night

[mccabethemerciless]

The freezing night air seemed to surge around Rizardo, as Cosimo rowed their little boat towards the foreboding little island. Not that Rizardo minded. It had been a long time since the biting chill of winter or the oppressive heat of summer had meant anything to him, though he perhaps preferred the cold if he thought about it. Cosimo wasn't so inured to winter's sting, and it was only his fevered rowing of the boat that had stopped his shivering. Rizardo marveled for just a moment at how frail his mortal bodyguards could be at times.

His reverie was broken by the momentary dimming of their latern and the whipping of the wind. The sign from Donata's ghostly servant that they were on the right track. To his credit Cosimo didn't even flinch as in the distance the spectral figure coalesced from the mist and beckoned the pair forward. Rizardo was an obsessive Necromancer and after decades of service his armsmen had become inured to all but the most wicked of horrors he inflicted and performed in pursuit of knowledge and power.

The pair alighted from their modest vessel in haste, an odd pair to outside observers, an unnervingly thin monk in a filthy, deeply stained cassock and a giant of a man dressed in the garb of a landsknecht. Rizardo led the way, his torch born aloft, a ward against the darkness as they ventured deeper into the island.

The island itself was little more than an unclaimed patch of dirt floating off the south of Venice proper, at least to the masses. In reality it was one of Lady Donata's prized territories, for underneath the ground lay the ancient and unused haven of the Cappadocian Ochanda "of Dust". She claimed it was a gift from the Padrone nearly two hundred years past, though the veracity of that was beyond the power hungry Capo. Not that he cared particularly. Acess to the information, and more importantly the shades bound to it's walls was a gift, one that he Rizardo knew full well that he hadn't earned, this trip would cost him dear when Nonna came to collect but that was tomorrow's problem, and not something the preeminent necromancer of Clan Palladio needed to worry about.

The air gew colder as they closed in on the entrance, Cosimo was wrapped tightly in gaudy red cloak though it provided little protection from the unnatural chill, his breath rattled like his teeth with every step, and even Rizardo had to admit he could feel this cold more keenly than any mundane cold. In the distance they could see the entrance, a half collapsed house of stone and wood, just Donata said it would be. The entrance to the haven proper would be somewhere in there. The wind was picking up, seeming almost as though it was moaning in anguish, as the torch light dimmed further with every step. Rizardo new this trick. Before the feast robbed him of his stable of slaves, he had employed wraiths to do exactly the same thing to frighten off inquisitive mortals and less learned Cainites. The Guardian would need to be subdued.

By the time they had crossed the threshold of the house the torchlight had gone and even Rizardo was shiverring, movement flickered on the periphery of his vision and the howls of the truly damned reverberated around his skull. Cosimo struggled to stay on his feet, his teeth clenched as he wept in pain and anguish, his posture hunched as he tried not to give in to the wraithly assault. There was more than one guardian. Of course there was.

Rizardo steeled his mind as he stepped forward, removing his cassock so that he stood naked but for the oversized and gore spattered roasary he draped over his shoulders, his tumescence an unnatural obscenity when compared to his emaciated and scarred frame. His eyes were intense and lusty as he chewed his lip ragged. With haste he began his ritual working.

The guardians of the haven would just scatter any salt he threw, so he would need to resort to vitae. Gripping his manhood he worked on himself, chanting the Anima Christi, vitae gushing from him in a torrent as he formed the warding circle.Cosimo stood back to back with Rizardo having stripped off. His fierce musculature and handsome young face was a stark contrast to Rizardo's emaciated and scarred form. Where Rizardo looked a wretch, Cosimo was an adonis. The onanistic ritual gave the pair a comedic air, even as they desecrated the haven with their fluids.

With the warding circle complete, the spirits of the dead howled in rage, the walls had started bleeding and Rizardo's concentration was sorely tested by the ravenous howls of his beast as he continued with his workings as Cosimo desperately tried to shield the necromancer from the debris that was hurled at the pair. Cosimo was forced to use his bare arm to deflect jagged pieces of wood from piercing Rizardo's heart and the smell of the ghoul's blood only intensified the risk of frenzy.

Rizardo had to think fast, there could be no negotiation like this. She would have to be bound. From the folds of his abandoned cassock Rizardo hastily retrieved the ancient shards of a femur Donata had claimed belong to the guardian here. He hoped it could be bargained with, and could stop the assault from the rest of it's brethren but as the injuries accrued and the rich smell of precious vitae filled the air, Rizardo began to think that survival was a more realistic goal. Never-the-less he placed the shards before him, chanting the Litany of Augustus as he lit incense, wafting the smoke of the shards and placing blessings upon them, in the darkest corner of the room a figure began to manifest.

The woman was terrifying, her skeletal form manifesting the shadows was topped by a grinning skull for a head though it's eyes were still present, eyes that leered at the necromancer with hatred and amusement. Was this the shade of Ochanda herself? Was this why the Giovanni hadn't plundered this haven yet? Was Donata trying to have Rizardo killed? In an instant his mind swam with possibilities. It is likely that Donata had made a final choice on her favoured champion and that Rizardo's rivalry with Ezra had become bothersome. All too likely. It was also likely that this excursion was designed to have multiple benefits. If he died so be it. If he didn't though, if he returned having removed the demented shade, then Donata gains much acclaim from the Padrone and so too does Rizardo, the status quo with ezra merely preserved. It all bore thinking about. He couldn't escape the feeling, however, that his time was running out. He would have to be more on guard with Donata in future.

Rizardo placed his Rosary amongst the shards and worked his magic, even as his body was lacerated by the wind of razor sharp debris, incense born aloft in one hand, his manhood in the other he chanted the hail mary over and over again as he worked on himself, weeping vitae as ejaculated his power onto the bones and the rosary. The shade howled in bitter defiance, though she couldn't enter the warding circle, she could hurl chunks of masonry at the pair. Cosimo's scream became a whimper as he used his back to shield his master from the shower of stone, barely able to stay on his feet. He was pale, shiverring and sweaty. The Ghould had burned the last of his gifted vitae on keeping himself upright. Rizardo would need to feed later, he would be surprised if he didn't require two vessels.

Rizardo continued undeterred, rising to his feet even as a thin stream of vitae gushed from him, his eyes were almost black in the gloom as the house reverberated with his frenzied hail marys. The shade howled in rage as his voice boomed with power of divine authority, the incence was almost gone and Rizardo could feel his strength leaving him but it was working, the shade was distorting and deforming, being pulled into the rosary even as it hurled curses at him in perfect Latin, she was being pulled through the ward now, the damage it wrought upon her corpus only aided the ritual by keeping her distracted and sapping her resolve.

With a flourish Rizardo wiped the last drops of vitae from the end of his cock and flicked it at the wraith as he worked his will upon her, the gesture of defiant disrespect, the desecration all working together to bind her into the rosary. For how long though he could not say. As the last of her corpus was absorbed the wind died, a normal temperature resumed and their torch once more spluttered to life. Even the whispering and howls had subsided, though Rizardo new from experience that this was as much a product of wraithly self preservation as anything else.

The Necromancer and his bodyguard slumped, relieved that this particular part of their ordeal was for now at least, over. Still, the light of frenzy shone behind Cosimo's eyes, Rizardo would need to feed him and his own hunger was growing. Still, he offered Cosimo a lacerated wrist to drink from. Just a drop now, to keep him going.

Cosimo fell upon the wrist hungrily suckling on it like a baby at a tit, only to pull away in bitter disappointment as only the merest drop was released to him. He would have no time to voice his complaint, however as a faint rumbling, grinding sound from beneath them reached their ears.

With a roar the floor of the old house fell a way, releasing a gust of old stagnant air and plunging the pair into the haven below...

To be continued.