"You honour us with your presence Lord!" The ragged savage Thrall said in surprise as Jokar entered the larger chamber which most Thralls had turned to a living area, piles of hay and poorly managed sleeprools littered the floor, and crates and barrels of various sizes substituted tables, piles of bad food and rusty weapons laid upon these "tables". Jokar counted nineteen Thralls inside, with the three killed earlier by Mercer, there was at least five more somewhere in the fort.
He looked to the astonished Thrall in front of him, as he managed a poor resemblance of a bow, his legs seemed to shake, in terror or respect, Jokar did not know, nor did he care.
"H-how may we serve such divine beings as you?" There were two different types of Thralls, the risen ones, dead corpses given life by vampires, but those acted with utter stupidity mostly, as the magic was not often strong enough to bring all of the person back functional. And then there were the worshippers, humans spellbound by vampires to act as slaves, they were utterly devoted to the vampires, and many began worshipping these as their gods, casting aside their religions, aedra and daedra alike, the ragged man stood in a trembling bow in front of Jokar was one of those madmen, his eyes wild and savage.
Jokar did not pity these men, they were no better than vampires.
"...What... can you do for me." He stepped up to the man, now sat on both knees, grasping for breath as Jokar leaned in towards him, setting his lips besides the man's right ear, and his Chitin clad hand gripped firmly around the Thralls neck, he moaned more in pleasure, to be touched by his "divine" outmatched the fear others would feel from this, other Thralls stopped their conversations, their labor, and some worryingly grasped their rusted blades discreetly, suspecting something sinister.
Jokar smiled. "Die." His fingers dug further into the throat, and ripped a massive hole straight through the now lifeless man's neck. Jokar let the carcass hit the ground, as he raised himself to face the eighteen other Thralls, some raising their axes, pikes and setting arrows to their bows, others still remaining seated, not sure what to do at all.
He raised his arms wide, pulled his head back, closed his eyes and let the whispers control him, they chanted within him, louder and louder, until the sound of charging Thralls ebbed out utterly, and the chants utterly cloaked him. He felt the souls gather to him, his body served as the gate, his final thought, before the voices took control, he thought of Jessara.
And he roared.
The lights were turned out, and his body was no longer his, he was an instrument, a weapon.
His ancestors flew through him, scorching, clawing, defiling everything, Jokar shook violently at this, this was the wrath of an entire race, an entire people, unleashed by their gods to bring destruction onto Nirn in the shape of fire.
All the Thralls had enough mind left to feel terror at this, as they were defiled utterly by the flames, Jokar could not hear the screams, but surely they must have echoed throughout the fort, screams in fear, and the sinister screams of the souls summoned to the chamber.
As the last Thrall died, impaled by the souls, they ebbed back through Jokar, back to their own plane of existence; the Afterlife, leaving Jokar collapsed in the center of the unrecognisable room, fainted from exhaustion.
The room was utterly destroyed, the once moss-covered stones were now scorched with flames. All furniture were thrown around the room, burning to ashes in different piles. And the bodies, the souls savoured all they could from the few chances they were granted to unleash their wrath upon mortals, the bodies were placed around the room, some attached to the stone walls, with their own weapons stuck through their chests, others were torn limb from limb, all were burnt past recognition, and their blood painted the room, poorly illuminated by nothing but the petty fires nutritioned by the burning wood of barrels and crates.
