The Cave of Khore

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Lesser God Version

Shadows fall around you, like hunters stalking prey. The vastness of this
chamber is indescribable. In all directions, the limits of your vision are
met before the physical boundaries of the cave. Eerie glowing shapes flitter
about the chamber: spheres of white in the dense fog, providing the only light
in this otherwise inky blackness. The floor is sand, and your raspy breathing
is dulled against it... but the resultant echo takes on an unworldly essence...

The murmur and chitter of a thousand voices wafts gently down from overhead.
Twin alabaster pillars loom and tower above you into the vast darkness above.
You feel a sense of insignificance and smallness in comparison. The flittering
lights move toward the far north wall and the semblance of tapestries can be
seen billowing in an unholy wind. To the east and west, the lights illuminate
similar decorations. Somewhere, high above, the sound of screeching is
suddenly stilled. You feel watched... and protected.

A tapestry hangs suspended in the air against the northern wall. Threads run
through it, several colors...

Blood red etchings on the eastern wall pulsate dimly with energy that seems
far removed. The words are in the old tongue, a language you cannot
comprehend, and yet, before your widening eyes, they twist until the shapes
are discernable common.

The cave entrance seems impossibly far removed, a dim doorway at the end of a
tunnel you do not remember traversing. Above the door, an iron plaque hangs
with the words 'The House of Kindred Nosferatu.'

The western wall depicts a mural embossed on smooth onyx-like rock. A faint
ancient energy pulsates through the wall, and as you watch in bewildered
fascination, the shapes take form and tell a tale.

Up above you, swirling amidst the dancing lights, red flickers glare balefully
through the darkness. Eyes as old as time itself bore through your soul like
so much ethereal mist. It sees something more ancient that inside of you
still beats... the struggle of darkness and light, order and chaos.

A million red eyes blink and move... mobile pinpricks in the cloak of darkness
above you.

The sand blows, grain by grain, back and forth, pushed by a supernatural wind.
Mist creeps about your feet like serpents through grass...

LOOK fangs pillar pillars
Rising high into the darkness, the alabaster pillars seem strangely out of
place in this most black and dark of places. And yet, as your eyes adjust,
the massive pillars seem to be curving inward... and they come to a sharp
point... like... huge fangs... from the maw of the earth.

LOOK tapestries tapestry
At first, it seems to be nothing more than a finely crafted tapestry
depicting an intricate spider's web. But, in looking more closely, you
begin to discern Patterns within the Web, and realize this is much, much
more than a simple decoration. Involuntarily, you reach out to trace the
path of a strong, scarlet thread, integral to the Weaving before you.
Examining the core and foundation of the Web, it is difficult to make out
the exact pattern at its heart, for the threads there are dark and shrouded
with a swirling chaos of shadows. Moving outward, following the scarlet
passage, you note strands of ebon black, forest green, deepest sapphire and
glinting silver which support, entwine, and strengthen the central scarlet
Then a realization comes to you; just as a simple arachnid's web is the
interweaving of many threads, just so is each individual woven together
with many others. Kin, prey, foes, friends, all are part of the Pattern of

LOOK ebon black thread
There is a sense of movement. For the briefest moment, you 'feel' Something
become aware of you, Something that has always been watching and tending and
guiding in silence... a voice from the past whispers, 'Wyld, Wyrm... and
Myself.' An old power, transcended from this realm whispers a name unknown to
you... faint in your memory... 'Thay... gar...'

LOOK forest green thread
The cool scent of a glade washes over you, and even here in the darkness of the
Cave, you feel the warm caress of the sun. A jade leaf appears in your
mind... and as quickly... vanishes.

LOOK sapphire blue thread
A velvet caress strongly tinged with sorrow and loss dances over your senses,
leaving you disoriented and bereft. And yet, there is a sense of vibrance and
energy... fealty and loyalty... comfort and safety... and overpowering love
and devotion.

LOOK glinting silver thread
It almost feels as if a supportive, faithful presence has joined you.
Turning, you expect to see a watchful paxman or guard protecting you, but no
one is there... just a faint scent of fire and sulfur... and a touch of elder
evil. Two pairs of demon-chyld eyes glare at you from the corners of your
vision... yet their glare is not maligned, but rather benevolent. You feel

LOOK etchings parables parable etching
'All things teach lessons...
... Dark and Death ...
Light and Life ...
... Nature and Elements ...
As wanderers in a world foreign...
... Learn ... The signs surround you. '

Your mind blazes with overpowering messages... the etchings flare a brilliant
ruby hue... and four parables appear before you on the wall. 'Vacuous Air',
'Engulfing Flame', 'Steady Earth', 'Yielding Water'

LOOK Steady Earth Solidarity
The etchings flare and the words melt into one another until the following
words in your native tongue are formed on the wall:

'Behold the earth. Each rock in its place, holding up another rock. Each
stone, in its place, resting on another stone. Each mountain in its place,
supported by the earth as a whole. Where does the mountain begin? Where does
the earth end? Where is the mountain, without the earth? Where is the stone
precipice, without the bedrock on which it rests? If the earth were not each
piece on another dependant, then into oblivion, and into void it would tumble.
We are nothing... one stone says... without each other. Solidarity.'

LOOK Yielding Water Respect
The etchings flare and the words melt into one another until the following
words in your native tongue are formed on the wall:

'Behold the water. The spray that washes up upon sands. In anger, the
torrents of rain... and yet, they do not destroy. Because the ocean knows an
ancient wisdom. As waves throw themselves on beaches and crash against the
cliffs, water gently, slowly, falls back upon itself. Its place is with the
ocean. Harsh words, drowned out by the peace of a still sea, like glass on a
calm day. For words are temporal in nature... and time sees their demise.
Water cuts great canyons, and while water will one day fade to nothing...
canyons remain. Simple, humble water... creating rifts that never can be
healed. With that power comes great responsibility... and the requirement of
care for water unleashed in anger. Respect.'

LOOK Engulfing Flame Hunt
The etchings flare and the words melt into one another until the following
words in your native tongue are formed on the wall:

'Behold the flame. Coursing through fields, ashing and charring and
engulfing. He who holds the power to burn and unleashes the beast knows the
beast somewhere waits for him. Fire burns a grove, oak, and maple, and pine.
No tree is safe, no animal immune, no man above. A torch bearer must be
prepared to die. He walks into a forest and sets it ablaze, and thrills in
the power to destroy and to rend and to feed from the energy of fire and
flame. And yet, the beast knows no master... he who wields the torch must be
prepared to face the fire. And smiled upon are those who walk into a burning
forest and carry not a torch. And blessed are those who have quelled the need
to burn in a world when death by fire is imminent and close. The fire and the
flame... and the torchbearer... Hunt'.

LOOK Vacuous Air Freedom
The etchings flare and the words melt into one another until the following
words in your native tongue are formed on the wall:

'Behold the air. Nothing exists that is not somehow touched by it. It goes
where it pleases... befriends as it sees fit. There are no boundaries for
something that does not bind itself. Air breathes life into man. Air
extinguishes fire. Air begins to set the blaze. Through Air falls water.
Through air, earth lives. Air... Freedom.'

LOOK mural
The images twist and a face of exquisite beauty forms, eyes of sapphire blue,
hair of flame... a smile ... and it fades; a tree in a grove, untouched, and
perhaps, untouchable... leaf of green and smile of gold ... a wink ... and it
fades; a hand in a pocket, deftly removing things ... a muffled cackle...
and it fades; a father, three sons, an old ogre, a guardian... and a mother...
a struggle... and it fades; a poky little puppy whose eyes glance from behind
a tree in a wood surrounded by bats ... a giggle and a bounce ... and it
fades; a girl of petite beauty... incredible power... and a misleading
innocence... a bright smile ... and it fades.

You feel drained... and awed.... and the pictures form to show you... a
friend... an ally... Khore smiles at you from the mural. A bow. And it fades.

Khore’s Office

Warm and comforting, and apparently well lived in, this office exudes a sense
of security. High above the chamber below, someone has carved this office
into the stone of the cave. Torches hang in even intervals around the
perimeter of this circular chamber. It too is mind boggling in size. The
torches directly opposite are barely flickers in the dark. Leather chairs and
oaken bookcases appear to be randomly strewn about. Worn leather-bound books
on every thinkable subject populate the shelves.

A massive desk of ironwood dominates the center of the office.

A section of the office is inexplicably decorated in bright pastels and flowery
trimmings and is obviously inhabited by someone other than Khore.

(Red Aura)Rhiannyon smiles brightly at you and says, 'Hi!!'

Sitting amidst cushions of rose-pastel, Rhiannyon smiles daintily up at you.
She is small, no taller than 5' in height, and quite shapely. Slightly
pointed ears peeking from behind luscious honey colored hair betray her
somewhat elven heritage. Small fang tips overhang her ruby lips as she smiles
at you with warm golden topaz colored eyes. Her excessive energy veritably
streams from her petite frame as she bounces up and welcomes you to her corner
of the office. She looks no older than a sixteen year old human... and yet,
behind that wide innocent smile, you sense both power unbridled... and immense

She's clad in a tight fitting black leather vest which manages to quite
nicely accentuate her... neckline. Her slender arms taper to small gloves
which, though somewhat out of place, seem to give her a slightly rebellious
look. Her feet, clad in black leather boots connect with quite shapely legs
which disappear underneath a black leather miniskirt. She looks at you with
obvious mischief in her eyes and winks. She then proceeds to giggle.

She is listening to an old Fleetwood Mac song that faintly reminds you of
her name.

Books tightly packed together on bookshelves surround the room in all

Books tightly packed together on bookshelves surround the room in all

Books tightly packed together on bookshelves surround the room in all

Books tightly packed together on bookshelves surround the room in all

A stone ceiling. You were expecting Michaelangelo's handiwork, perhaps?

A carpetted floor, complete with trapdoor.

LOOK ironwood desk
Massive, and well-worn, the desk is cluttered with papers and notes of all
sorts. Several books as well have been left, some half-opened, on the desk.
A typewriter sits, dusty and obviously seldom used next to a massive computer.

A few portraits adorned by silver frames stand on the desk... another picture
has been left propped up next to the computer monitor.

LOOK portraits
Some beautiful lady with red hair and blue eyes smiles serenely from one of
the portraits. Another shows a lady in a drift of snow, hair flopped over her
face, a dumb Canadian stupor all about her. Yet another shows a lady with a
silver dagger clutched to her chest. The last portrait is of a strange lady
pointing to her tragus, dutifully pronouncing impossibly pronounced words. On
all of their faces, a look of toleration and exasperation is easily visible.
You surmise this look is aimed at the photographer of these portraits.

LOOK picture A green haired dryad, compromisingly clad in a tight-fitting leather vampire's
dress appears absolutely furious at whoever was holding the camera. She's
kinda cute when she's furious.

LOOK book1 book
A large medical tome entitled 'Blood Diseases and Their Treatments.'

LOOK book2 book
A beautifully printed soft-cover edition of 'The Complete Works of Robert Frost.'

LOOK book3 book
A worn, well-loved hardcover book, 'The Complete Works of Billy Shakespeare.'

LOOK book4 book
'An Analysis of Follower-Leader Relationships.'

'... usually, the followers are after something ...'

You ponder.

LOOK book5 book
'An Analysis of Why People Lead'

'... usually, the Leader wants something from his Followers ...'

You ponder. A lot.

LOOK book6 book
'How to Keep a Harem'

'... certain followers may object to being made a eunuch, but this objection
is usually quite temporary ...'

LOOK book7 book
'How to Be A Thief'

Several pages are missing from this book.

LOOK book8 book
'1001 Recipes for Dargons and Sharks'

It appears that this is a well read, well loved, well used book. Someone has
maniacally scribbled 'BLUTO!!!' all over some of the shark recipes.

LOOK book9 book
'The Complete Poetry of Khore'

You hastily put this book down.

LOOK book10 book
'How to Drive a BMW'

'... if the blurs are discernable shapes and objects, the problem is usually
due to a lack of pressure applied by the right foot. Correct as necessary ...'

LOOK typewriter
It doesn't appear to be much used, but a plaque is mounted on it.

'We forgot what this was supposed to say... but watch what you're typewriting!'
A gift from us! -Kyarmentaris'

LOOK chair chairs
Large, comfortable looking leather chairs dot the room at random intervals.
Some are reclined and books are left on them, opened and face down.

The Cave of Khore: DEMI GOD VERSION

You have entered what appears to be a subterranean cave.  All around, the
sounds of dripping water echo and reecho.  The bounds of the cave are not
readily visible; the walls disappear into the darkness.  Flames, barely
visible amidst the almost tangible darkness, hang suspended in the air
flanking a wide sandy walkway to the apparent center of the cave. There you
see rock formations jutting from wall and floor and ceiling at impossible
angles, all crackling with a red lightning that leaps back and forth. The
rocks form a circular enclosure around a raised section on the floor.
Five great stone pillars of the gothic style melt into the floor and ceiling
encircling the raised section.  Each pillar has a black plaque embedded in it,
glowing with blood red letters.  In the center of all this, an eerie red light
emanates from an ornate wooden coffin.

Fear grips you as doubts about your self worth begin to tear at your soul.
Internal conflict rages nearly suffocating you... and then, there is only a
dark flooding peace which overwhelms you.  A voice intones, 'The Lord of this
cave is the Lord of Fear.  He who shall enter his chamber shall fear nothing
but him.'  The presence of the Vampyre Lord Khore is overwhelming here...
strangely terrifying yet calming you with a foreboding and silent stillness.
High above you, the ceiling seems to writhe and move...

The northern face of the cave glows dimly with the light of torches hovering
in the air.  Tapestries adorn this northern wall.  Depictions of people, of
events, and even abstract depictions of emotions flow to you from these
tapestries that invite a closer look.

Look EAST:
The floor melts into darkness and the walls are beyond sight.

There is a metal plaque embedded in the wall of the cave atop the massive
iron door.

           : Vivo et morior pro gloria ordinus nosferatus. :

Look WEST:
The floor melts into darkness and the walls are beyond sight.

Look UP:
Blinking and shifting, milling about slowly, arrayed like a starfilled sky,
a million glaring red eyes bore through you.

Look DOWN:
While the sounds of water ring around you, you notice that the floor is
immaculately dry and free of debris.


Khore rests herein, Heir of the ancient Pure Darkness.
Who in life sought life in mischief, and in life eternal, life in blood.
Who in his quest for darkness, never forgot the taint of light.
Nor the Red Goddess that brought happiness,
Nor the brevity of Mortal Happiness with Risa,
That for a time stalled the call of aeons and the churning wheels of heaven.
And for Love, lost.  And Forgotten, yet lives in fleeting memory.
Nothing is that will be forever.
Nothing was that was for always.
Nothing will be that will not shatter.

The pillars appear as if they have been moved from the structure of a gothic
castle and somehow melded into this cave.  There are five of them, and they
soar off, melting into the ceiling, barely visible amidst the darkness.

Each plaque appears to be constructed of some metal that is darker than the
darkness.  It is only due to this darkness that the words in blood appear to
leap out and glow.  Plaque1 contains the vow of the order nosferatu.
Plaques 2-5 relate the history of the kindred.

:  Ordinus Nosferatus: Vows of the Kindred  :
:    The kindred of Khore know but this,    :      
: They know nothing but laws of their kind, :
:      And these laws unspoken remain,      : 
:     But never lie far from their mind.    : 
:                                           : 
:     A brother shall be father to each,    : 
:     And sister will be mother to call,    : 
:       Life is the gift of the lost,       : 
:     And Khore is the Lord of us All.      : 

In the beginning there was the pure darkness.  And light came, bled into
it, diminished its purity.  And born was Chaos.  Darkness grew
conciousness, and named himself Vlad, Protector of the Purity and Order.
And aeons passed while darkness and light struggled to conquer the
other... and this maelstrom was Chaos.  Vlad guarded and upheld the purity
of Darkness.  He sought to uphold the ancient values.  And so, created for
himself a companion and named her Ybarra.  They wed in the ancient way.
No vows, no words, they simply were one.  One made for the other.  And
neither knew that in the creation of Ybarra, the Maelstrom had affected...
and Ybarra was tainted with a touch of the light, and a part of the chaos.
And so, when their first son was born whom they named Lestat, they did not
know he too was tainted.  Chaos boiled in his soul, and he was forced to
take life to sustain his own.  Vlad saw this and mourned.  And realized
the taint of the Ybarra.  And in the ancient way, continued to love her.
Ybarra knew, and mourned.  And in the ancient way, continued to love.
Lestat saw what he had become and mourned.  And in his own way, those of
chaos, sought vengeance.

Lestat raised an army of darkness and brought it forth, seeking to once
and for all destroy the light, and the taint that it harbored.  And came
close to victory before he realized that he and Ybarra must both die
before the darkness perished.  And so close to victory, Lestat knew a
moral defeat.  The Chaos conquered and Lestat slew himself at the brink of
returning purity to the land.  Vlad saw this, mourned, and kept his place
as the protector of the purity, knowing the Maelstrom to exist still, and
Chaos and the taint of Light to roam yet.  Ybarra saw the passing of her
son and mourned, and in sadness, bore a second son to Vlad.  The
resurgence of the Maelstrom swept him away in the chaos.  Ybarra, weakened
by ordeal and effort passed away bringing the third son of Vlad into this
world.  Vlad knew great sadness and great joy.  Ybarra was lost.  He was
only half himself again.  And yet, the third son lived.  Untainted. Pure
in the darkness as was his father.  And this son he named Dracul.

Dracul was truly the son of his father.  Pure and strong in the ways of
Darkness, Dracul raised an army and rode out to face the light and chaos.
Leading the army, Vlad at his side, they clashed in the great battle.
Their victory was to reclaim a portion of the darkness and returned it to
purity.  Vlad was mortally wounded in this battle, and Dracul carried his
body back to the darkness.  Looking into his son's eyes, Vlad knew
happiness and joy and victory... and passed away in his arms.  Dracul
entombed Vlad in the land they had won together and this land he named
Sanguinna, which in the ancient tongue means "Land of Blood."  Dracul
ruled this sanctuary of purity for many ages, while the Maelstrom of chaos
raged unchecked without.  And on the day of his passing, for nothing is
eternal, Dracul laid a spell on Sanguinna.  None but the heirs of Darkness
shall ever walk there.  And knowing himself to be the last, he died in
peace feeling that the darkness would seal itself away and be pure
eternally.  But no wards stopped the first son's spirit from returning.
Crippled, chaotic and torn apart, the spirit of Lestat came to Sanguinna.
Lestat was conquered by the chaos and became its instrument, and so Lestat
claimed Sanguinna for himself.  And Sanguinna knew chaos.

From far across the planes, hearing the cry of an ancient forgotten
darkness, Khore made his way to Sanguinna.  Tempered and taught by the
goddess of Mischief, Khore gained entrance to Sanguinna.  He found and
fought Lestat on top of the hill of Lost Souls and defeated him.  Then,
by his ancient father, Lestat's spirit was shut and sealed away for
eternity by wards Khore set to make sure they would there remain always.
Khore knew the taint of light, and knew too the need to take life to
sustain it.  And yet, he knew the honor and law of his father.  And
pledged himself to that end for all time.  The second son had returned to
Sanguinna.  And Khore was the name of the Second Son.

They appear shifting and noncorporeal.  Shades of color more than actual
cloth define them.  Their pictures are dynamic and changing...

Red - Of Mischief and the Goddess
Blue - The Lost Gem
Orange - The Children of Nosferatu
Black - Of Purity and Darkness
White - Solace on the Road
Purple - Faded But Remembered

The tapestries shift and an image of a goddess glows on the walls.  A
voice somewhere whispers 'Syla' and emotions of gratitude and faith fill
you.  What follows can not be remembered when the tapestries finally cease
their shifting, but there is a deep contentedness and peace... tempered
with the desire to cause mischief.

A gem floats in the void.  The tapestries glow with a deep blue.  A voice
somewhere whispers 'Saphyre'.  A face appears, then dissapears... a sudden
bright flash and then the tapestries glow red.  A voice whispers 'First
Chosen'. The tapestries flare bright red then black then back to red,
pulsating.  Emotions of strength and change flood over you.  Then peace.

Four lost souls dance on the tapestries.  They are large, yet cry.  A dark
shadow of immense power passes over them.  Liberation.  Relief.
Friendship. Obedience.  A voice whispers, 'Einstein... Newton... Edison...
Snort...'  Babies, rescued from death and winter.  Orphanned.  Gained a
home.  The Sigil of the Hunters, a Fang glows brilliantly before you. It
fades.  Then nothing.

There is only a darkness.  A voice whispers 'Risa'.  The tapestries shift
and pulse in turmoil.  Then there is an explosion of light.  You feel
love.  And then a great emptiness.  And then an understanding.  A dark
peace floods you.  The touch of Khore surrounds you.

There is a noise.  You see a dark road.  Long, winding.  Lonely.  And then
the lights appear.  White.  Brilliant.  Guiding.  You feel a sense of
belonging.  Of friendship.  Names appear on the Tapestries, and faces with
them... and fade as the next one appears... 'Pyros'... 'Shushila'...
'Emaleth'... 'Kestler'... 'Crysania'... 'Dove'... 'Tfar'... 'Clue'...
'Ozmo'... 'Celine'... 'Marisa'... 'Crazyhorse'... the names go on... 

there is a peace.

There is turmoil.  The tapestries glow red, then blue then melt to purple.
A face appears shrouded by darkness.  You feel a sense of regret.  Of
something lost.  Then a name...  a voice... softly, almost inaudibly
whispers. 'K......'  You feel a deep emptiness.  And regret.  And
acceptance.  And buried almost... love... then there is nothing.