Defiance of Death Prolouge

“So the newest Death Marshals have been tetermined?”

“Yes, though what my concern is the fact they all have been decided at the same time, on top of that they all are from the same place its never been done in such a manner.”

“Nonzense Caenum. Its nothing to worry over it merely makes the yob ve ‘ave ahead of uz much zimpler”

Though at the moment only two people were presently speaking, the small dark room was inhabited by four sets of eyes, which seemed to float in the darkness against the silhouette of the four people who sat around a small circular table. The only source of light in the room was coming from the very center of said table- a single thin red candle lit and glowing, its illumination cutting off just short of showing the faces of the four surrounding it.

The person who seemed to be at the ‘head’ of the table, possibly due to the fact that all eyes were turned to him or possibly due to the clear leadership the male’s voice held, sat further back away then the others from the candle. By the shadows that fell over him, he seemed to have his arms crossed across his chest in an inpatient manner. His mismatched eyes (the only real visible trait of him) gave the person something of a mystic and devilish look about them. His left eye the most pure of golden color imaginable, the right eye however had no cornea, only the pupil surrounded by blood vessels.

The man’s gaze rested straight across the table looking straight to the other speaker who was sat straight across from him. This person was less easily defined. The voice of this person seemed too masculine to be a female, but still a bit too feminine to defiantly say it was a man. This person’s silhouette was only visible around the face, which was framed by soft silver hair that came down to their shoulders delicately framing their face, as one would imagine in a painting. Their eyes were that of someone tired, in both body and spirit, someone who was mentally exhausted. The eyes of a wise old owl, watching the world go by beneath his watchful gaze.

Slowly the man with mismatched eyes turned their gaze without turning his head to the person seated on his right. This silhouette was far different and very near visible though so strange it was hard to tell what one was seeing it seemed that something came up behind blending with the person’s shadow. Harsh glaring yellow-green eyes were placed upon this shadow. Strange large, long lizard like eyes that held no white in them. Even this person's pupils seemed to be malformed into tall thin lines rather then small marbles of black, making it look as if someone had cut the color open and revealed an empty void. Those strange unique eyes were slanted into an angry scowl, a glare that could melt ices of Antarctica.

Unfazed by the harshness of the eyes with the same slow and meaningful turn of gaze his eyes came to rest on those of the person seated to his left. This person’s eyes however were the exact opposite of those belonging to the person sitting across from them.


Pure ebony eyes looked towards the apparent leader. Those eyes filled with what seemed to be a motherly worry before turning away feeling his gaze rest upon her. Soft female eyes filled with doubt, The person behind them very near visible, long soft white hair came down to her mid back framing her rounded face. She was a woman who was not yet old enough to be called an adult but still not young enough to call a teenager. In her hair however, were her ears. Large silver fur covered dog-ears pricking up from atop her head.

“Iz zomething vrong Gemma?” The head of the table asked her, his voice despite, being dominated mostly by a German accent, held faint traces of a hiss that seemed stereotypical to that of a vampire that was all but over come by his natural tongue. The young lady’s eyes looked back to the voice as she tried to hide the pain in her expression and voice.

“Acanthus I know the importance of what you mean, heaven knows I’ve trusted you many a century but I-I just have this feeling this is wrong. I think-I think we should just quit while we can before we-”

She was cut off as the vicious eyed person slammed their fists down on the table, rattling it, the flame of the candle dancing violently at the sudden jolt of motion. The hands of the person were as malformed as their eyes. Instead of hands with fingers and nails they were long dragon like claws with long, sharp, bone thick tan razor tipped talons upon each. The owner of these claws leaned forward revealing the person to be a dark skinned woman with a face to go with her claws. Her cheeks were covered in patches of scales that faded into skin; her entire face elongated making her rather lizard like in appearance. Dark matted brunette hair flew out from her head like crazed wildfire, sprouting from the untamed locks were two large demonic horns of the same tan shaded bone of her claws. Huge dragon like wings fanned out stretched to their full width at her sides, nearly going touching the walls to each of her sides with both wings, as she fanned herself out making her look still more menacing then before.

“You gettin weak, bebette!?” She snarled in a harsh growl coming from the back of her throat. Her voice heavily slathered in a Cajun accent.

“Labrusca calm yourself und zit bahk down.” The head of the table sighed waving his pale hand in the candlelight in a dismissing manner, short but sharp black claws ending his digits rather then fingernails.

The enraged girl who, although when standing stood easily at nearly six feet, without counting her wings or horns, was clearly the youngest one there, unable to be much more then eighteen or nineteen, turned towards the man with miss-matched eyes. “And you, Bon rien- high and mighty thinkin’ you are? Lock away your self in that tower you do. Never see your face ceptin when-”

“Labrusca please. There is no call for-” The dragon girl let out a snarling roar snapping around, her powerful tail crushing into the chest of the person Acanthus had previously been speaking with, sending them into the wall behind him leaving the man barely clinging to consciousness when the back of his head met with the wall.

“Of all people you ought agree Fae! Gettin weak as the dog y’are!”

The person she had knocked against the wall dizzily staggered to his feet with aid of his staff that had clattered to the ground beside him, still wheezing slightly, his grey hair and glassy grey-green eyes defied  his age, making him look 73 rather then 37. This was only made worse by long elegant burns that seemed to have been placed under his eyes by an artist using a flaming paintbrush. These burns looped and coiled like vines of a plant. The same vine like burns in his skin was seen all across his exposed chest where the pale lavender blouse he wore hung open.

“Labrusca, as I was saying calm yourself, this isn’t necessary.” He sighed heavily after he was once more able to speak.

Her eyes only grew harsher. After that little ‘love tap’ Caenum still was foolish enough to try to tell her to calm down!? She would make sure *personally* that he would regret it in the worse way possible she decided, snarling angrily revealing her fangs that seemed orange from bloodstain. She viciously began storming towards the man claws stretched out.

~BANG~

Everyone leapt, freezing where they stood. Acanthus remained calmly seated at his place at head of the table, a single-shot rifle held up with one hand. His eyes closed as dust and debris fell from the ceiling, and light poured down in a thin beam where the bullet had gone through the roof.

“Dat’s enough. Labrusca one more outburst like dat und dere VILL be consequences.” In the light, little about the man's alabaster face was hidden. The square wireframe glasses placed halfway down his nose, the sharpness of his features, the wilted rose held behind his left ear, the scar along his right cheekbone, most noticeable however was the cause of the hiss in his voice. Indeed as the vampire-like tone that added to his accent would imply, he had long vampiric fangs. In the hand opposite his gun, rested an elegant glass filled with blood wine.

The gunshot seemed to bring Labrusca’s rage to a halt. Even so, her glare never faded as she snarled quietly grumbling something in her native tongue to herself as she sharply turned her back to Caenum taking her seat, soon followed reluctantly by the other two.

As if the entire affair had not just occurred Acanthus glanced back across the table at Caenum “Now vhat vas your concern over the matter of the new Marshals?” he sighed bringing the glass to his lips but not drinking from it, seemingly embracing the mere scent.

The other man closed his eyes going into a deep meditative thought, as if in need to recollect his thoughts and remember what it was exactly Acanthus was talking about. Finally, he let out a heavy sigh, “Ablocare praeter mori-“

“I don’t speak Latin Caenum” The miss-match eyed one sighed irritably, but in a tone that stated it was a rather common occurrence. Caenum opened his eyes blinking a bit, seeming to have not even noticed the fact he had changed the language he had been speaking in.

“What I mean…” he murmured softly, like a man who had been reminded that he was no longer in his prime before slowly and carefully restarting. “Is one of them- the vampirc, she may be a problem for you to deal with Acanthus” Everyone’s eyes lay intently on the grey haired man. The table seemed to have suddenly spun to the delicate and wise looking man suddenly placing him at the head. “The question not if Gemma or I are weak hearted. No longer is it a question of how or why the four new marshals are of the same time and place. The question is rather if YOU Acanthus, can separate your past from your title as Vampiric Death Marshal.”

All eyes turned back to Acanthus. Caenum's tired eyes looking to him with a look of concern and doubt. Gemma’s expression that of sorrow, someone obviously only going along with the other three out of devotion to them, not her own willingness. Even Labrusca’s gaze seemed to change from her typical vicious glare to a suspicious look towards him. A long silence fell over them only broken when Acanthus finally took a drink from his wineglass.

“I mean no ovense Caenum but I veel you saying I may be distracted by such matters iz making you seem rather…hypocritical.” His voice became pointblank and rather matter-of-factly. His eyes closed not looking to Caenum, already having predicted the others reaction down to a pinpoint. The word was, more then likely, made up but it had made the Vampiric man’s point very well.

Caenum blinked closing his eyes trying to force himself to look as calm as the other male, unable to hide the fact that the comment had ruffled his feathers so to speak. “I’d like to think that, such matters are behind me.” His voice void of emotion yet somehow a tone of utter forced calmness that sat like acid. “So if you think you can set the matter of YOUR life behind you then we shall proceed and deal with these marshals as we have previous ones”

Acanthus nodded standing holding his rifle, a bayonet attached to it, over the table. The light from the bullet hole coming across his face making the vampiric man look like a cracked porcelain doll, and spoke words that neither erosion of time nor Acanthus’s accent could touch. “Acanthus the thorn protector of strife, preserving the rest with eternal life”

Gemma followed, unlike the other not smiling, looking down at the ground as she placed the blade of her samurai sword she held with her paw like hand to cross over the other’s weapon. Her voice was shaky though she tried to hide the regret in her eyes. “Gemma the flower catching the sight, drawing unready away from the light.”


Labrusca stood next, raising her clawed hand that grasped the hilt of a long black bullwhip letting it rest over the blade on the rifle and sword. A vicious and wicked grin across her lizard lips. Her own part possibly the most fluent thing the girl could speak. “Labrusca the vine, vicious and strong. Chokes out all evil and destroys all the wrong.”

Caenum was the last to stand, finishing the cross of their four weapons with his staff. His eyes remained closed as if in pain, but still his face held an expression of stubborn determination, weather it was honest or a reaction to what Acanthus had said it was impossible to say. “And Caenum the earth who lives to strive, and dies to keep the others alive.”

There was no pause or hesitation among any of them. The four finishing reciting what they clearly knew by heart from the ages together. Despite their differences in that moment, their voices spoke, and their hearts beat as one.


“The Death Marshals Unite as one,
Under the rising and setting sun.
So long, as The Briar between death and life grows,
We all will stand strong as the form of a rose.”