Vampire RPG
Over the years, The Covens have been increasing in power. They have infiltrated even the most unexpected aspects of mortal life. And they have slipped into creature comforts and apathy...until a threat arose. One, hidden amongst them, has started killing their kind. Mortals have banded together with were-wolves. The life that the vampires have become accustomed to is rapidly vanishing. They must take action...quickly.
She was resting, the pale skinned, black haired vixen of the night. She was the leader of the most powerful Coven in the world, but even leaders need rest. Elizabeth had sunken into a deep reverie. Last night was terrible, two more vampire murders. The count was now up to nine and the covens found no new clues as to who it was. She was tired, all she wanted to do was lay there and not think about it. Her thoughts drifted back to when she was younger, before she was turned. She had been 20 when she first met Lord Rancour. He had thrown a magnificant party on his estate. The entire society of London had been invited.
**Bang Bang Bang**
She sighed and tried to ignore it. She missed London at times, but not too much
**Bang Bang Bang**
"Curse you to the infernos, Louis" She muttered as she wrenched the coffin lid open. She sat up and nearly strangled her brother. "What, Louis? What, is so bisteringly important that it could not wait?" She asked, her icy blue eyes staring straight at Louis, the smiling poster boy of arrogance.
"Nothing, just didn't want my sister to be late for the gathering tonight!" He said walking out of her room and into his own. He was ten years younger than her but in every other way her equal. She got out of her coffin and pushed the lid back down. She hated him. Smarmy little pestilence. Looking at the large grandfather clock told her that she had a good half hour to get to The Tower, her nightclub. It was the perfect place for the covens to meet unnoticed. She grabbed the family ring off of the table and slipped it over her finger. It was a large garnet ring, been passed down for years. Elizabeth was at the door and slipped her leather coat on. She was wearing her red silk shirt and black leather pants.
"Louis, try to be on time!" She shouted from the door.
The night was perfect. Slightly warm but still a cool breeze was blowing through the city. Elizabeth decided to walk part of the way and told her driver to meet her at Main and 10th. It was a nice night, plenty of mortals would be out.
Louis brushed his black hair back off his face and slipped his svelte body into his finest Armani suit.
"I am one fine immortal" He said cooly into his full length mirror. "Very fine, and one day, ole boy, you'll take the coven away from that inferior sister of yours." He said, pushing a stray hair back into place. He usually was driven to the club as well, but the night was so ripe with victims, that Louis couldn't resist walking. He strolled down the streets looking for an out of the way place he could use. So many fine ladies, but all out in the open with the crowds. Then as though someone had read his thoughts, Louis found a secluded alley that already included his victim. It was only a street person, but, blood was blood. He slithered up behind the bum and was nearly upon him, when the bum ducked around behind and knocked him in the back. The movement was fast and Louis was spralled on the ground. He whipped around and made to attack the bum. Clearly this wasn't a bum, this was another vampire he was fighting, the movements were too quick and powerful to be a mortal. He moved toward the strange vampire with ferocity, but his attacker was too fast, side-stepped him and punched Louis hard in the face. Louis immediatly fell backward, he tasted his own blood. Quickly, Louis got to his feet.
“You don’t know who you’re messing with!” Louis shouted, swinging out a punch. The attacker grabbed his fist and began to twist it. Louis let out a groan as he was forced on a knee. The attacker drew a blade and thrust it into Louis’ heart.
"You ******d!" Louis groaned, "We'll get you for this!" Louis sputtered he fell backward to the ground and expired. The vampire laughed and left Louis dead in the alley.
Elizabeth was a block away from The Tower. She checked her visor's mirror and noticed a small bit of blood still on the side of her mouth. She chuckled a bit as she wiped it away. She was always in a better mood after her first one of the night. She had been lurking around the park. She preferred this place above other places. Perhaps because that was where she became an immortal. The woman hadn't suspected a thing, not until it was too late anyway. She had been a jogger, making her way through the park when Elizabeth made her move, it had been quick, nearly painless for the woman. Her car pulled in front of the club and her driver hurried around to open her door. Elizabeth stepped out and instanteously the line of people waiting to get in began yelling, as though she would notice them as someone and let them into the club. It had become New York's premier underground rock nightclub. The exterior resembled a tower built in gothic style. Constructed of black steel and granite, the for-boding structure was sharp and angular, with gargoyles sitting upon the top. Strains of progressive metal rock could be heard from within. The club had booked a new group tonight, The Human Fuse. She headed inside, ignoring the crowd. Screaming electric guitars and bombastic drums filled the nightclub. The interior was as forbbiding as the outside. Dark and otherworldly. Elizabeth walked over to the stairs, guarded by several of her men.
"Evening boys," She said heading up the stairs, clubbers tried following her, but were pushed back of the guards. Elizabeth opened one of the black metal double doors and into her private meeting room. It was a large black room. At the opposite end was a wall of windows and scattered around the edges of the room were couches and chairs and one the left wall was a large fireplace, which was roaring. The room was set for the meeting. One long table had been set up with the appropriate number of chairs set around it. Her chair, large and ornate was at one end. Elizabeth was quickly greeted by a small, bald headed man.
"Andrew, how is attendance tonight?"
"Splendid, my lady, the mortals seem to like the new band."
"good, anyone else arrived yet?"
"No, My lady, you are the first here."
"Like it should be" She smiled. Andrew went away, probably to the bar to get drinks ready for the guests. Elizabeth walked over the windows. The windows looked down on the club below, they were of course one-way. The place was booming with life and the mortals made an interesting spectacle. She was watching when she felt hands at her side and a pair of lips settling on her neck, a kiss, with a playful nip of fangs.
"James, when did you get back into town?" She asked. Only one vampire had the gall to sneak up behind her like that. James Carr, an older vampire at least 100 years her senior, Elizabeth's on again off again lover. His brown hair and deep brown eyes were what first caught her attention.
"Oh, I wouldn't miss this meeting for the world," He replied in her ear. He kissed her neck again, fangs sinking a little deeper this time.
"I don't think there's time for this," She said, pushing him back and walking around him back toward the table, "And you didn't answer my question..." She looked over her shoulder and then turned around toward him. "Where were you?"
"Out of town, what's it matter?" He said shrugging his shoulders, walking toward her. He was dressed quite sharply tonight in his black suit and long black leather trench-coat. James was stunning man who appeared ot be about 36 years old. His rougish goatee was always a little unkempt but not unattractively so. And his silver rimmed glasses always seemed to hide something from her. However, now, his blasé attitude was annoying her.
"Two more vampires were murdered last night, that's what's the matter." She said, taking a glass of wine from the tray that Andrew had carried in with impecable timing.
"And you think its me?" James said indigantly.
"C*****, no!" Elizabeth said, slamming the glass down on the table, "But it would help if I knew where you were!" He made her so angry at times.
"Listen," He said moving quickly around the table and right up to her, he grabbed her arms with his hands and looked right into her eyes. "I was upstate for awhile, ok? ok? There was a problem with some werewolves up there, I went to go take care of it." He left go of her and stepped back, "Is that satisfactory?"
"Yes," Elizabeth sighed, picking her glass back up and taking a drink."Werewolves? So their acting up again? We have problem growing with them here, too."
"My lady!" Andrew called, "Lord Greyburn has arrived, his son as well."
"Oh good," Elizabeth said to James, "The new white trash has arrived." She said rolling her eyes.
"Be nice." James warned, playfully.
“hmm, watch me.” She said, taking a long drink of her wine.
Greyburn and his son Westly had arrived at the club. Westly had been here multiple times before, having done assassian jobs for the Rancours. His father, however, this was his first time here. He followed his son to the stairs and up to the doors. At the doors, he took Westly aside.
"Remember your place here,"
"Don't I always..." Westly said spitefully as the door swung open.
"Welcome Lord Greyburn and Master Westly" A small man said as they walked in, "I am Andrew, is there anything you'd like to drink?" The two gave their requests to Andrew.
"Lord Greyburn, always a pleasure." Elizabeth said, walking over.
"Lady Rancour," Greyburn said, taking her hand and kissing it, "Thank you for inviting us here tonight."
"Please make yourselves comfortable, the rest of us haven't arrived yet." Elizabeth said. Lord grey spouted off some pleasantries before joining his son down at the far end of the table. Elizabeth walked back over to James, who had taken up a position on one of the couches.
Affected with lycanthropy, the curse of the werewolf, by his father involvement with an arcane book of forbidden evil knowledge, Adam Evin, has found refuge in the company of humans who wish to eradicate the world of vampires. Unknown to but a few of them, Adam is their most potent weapon in this struggle only if he can be controlled.
“Are you sure about this, Kent?” The young woman asked for the third time. Her white hands clasped together to her breast, Justine Saint-Jean, looked on anxiously as her mentor, Kent Bordel, fastened the last of the heavy leather belts that tied down the tall, muscular youth to the stone walled floor. The iron shackles and chains clinked as he tried to move his limbs.
“They’ll hold,” Kent assured his worried comrade in arms, “these chains have held an African Bull Elephant in check.”
“But he’s something else…” Justine whispered.
“Relax, Jus!” the dark haired youth smiled, flexing his bounded sinews, “Kent knows what he’s doing. I trust him!”
“But can we trust you?” Mace Marlon, the fourth presence in the small room grunted. He clearly hated all things that were different from normal and made no effort to hide his feelings.
“We shall soon see, wont we?” Adam quipped, grinning boyishly.
“Right then, all set.” Kent breathed a deep sigh, ”Now we wait for the transformation.”
“There’s a full moon tonight,” Justine whispered, “Monique’s rallying the troops. Let’s hope what Dale has found is something more substantial than the last time.”
“Indeed!” Mace grunted, twirling the UV-gun in his large hands.
“Give the boy more credit, you two,” Kent snapped, “without him we’d have had done nothing so far. All those of the undead we have rid the world of so far are all due to his findings.”
“Yes, Kent, I’m sorry!” The woman offered and Mace nodded grudgingly.
“Now Adam, are you ready?” Kent inquired. “Talk me through your previous… um... experiences.”
“Okay, Kent,” Adam replied, adjusting himself in his bonds. “Despite my best efforts, the werewolf has gotten loose and out of my control. It never is a pretty sight. There was a time that I thought I had it under control, but I was mistaken.
“Some time last year I ran with a group of wild party animals called the Night Breed… one of them, Rhea Kane, could control minds with some hypnotic spell. She’s a vampire, if you must know, and we shared a friendship then. For a while she kept the werewolf in line during the full moon. Unfortunately the Werewolf has very little mind to control. Lucky for her, she was one of the undead.
“I guess he built up a tolerance of something. So, after that I went back to locking myself up someplace where I could hide my dirty little secret from everyone… except myself.”
“And him, of course.” Justine added with a shiver.
“Yeah, I thought it was a lousy pretty deal, personally. As for the werewolf, well, who knows what he thought. I had more important things to deal with…”
“How does it feel… the transformation?” Kent urged Adam as he prepared the hypo gun filling the beaker to the brim with his special containment serum.
“I remember what it felt like the first time. Those first stirrings of the beast within myself, the dark thrill on the edge of change…” The young man continued, “I was revolted by the way my body responded so eagerly. The moon… she’s a cold and distant mistress and it seems that all I ever do is wait for her to show up. I tell myself I don’t enjoy this… I don’t… do I?”
“Of course not,” Justine replied softly, running her slender fingers through his dark hair.
“Like hell you don’t,” Mace muttered under his breath, “…freak!”
“It’s time,” Kent said quietly, motioning Mace to open the skylight window. “Stay back, Justine.”
Then as the moonlight slowly seeped through the yawning skylight, Adam began to groan softly. The two shots of tranquillizer that Kent had pumped into him began to take effect. His large form shuddered as the pale light of the moon’s ghostly caress brought his trembling body to its dark climax of transformation. And then the seething fury he had kept bottled up inside him for a whole month exploded from within in an eruption of release. The werewolf escaped from the dark secret depths of his soul.
Adam’s bulging muscles spasmed violently as his mind drowned in a thick haze of animal passion. Wildfire red thoughts flashed through his mind, burning away all reason, all control, leaving only the primal, ravenous beast within.
First sight. The werewolf opened his eyes for the first time in a month. He didn’t like what he saw. He remembered this grimy little room and the people in it. He remembered Kent and the pain he caused him, he remembered Mace. And he remembered Justine. All of them watched him suffer time and again. But not tonight. He snarled, straining at his confinement.
Justine gasped in utter horror. She has never seen him this violent, it was as if he harboured this great will of evil, an evil directed towards them. Kent stepped back, his hands shivering; he tried to steady the hypo-gun in his grip. Mace moved in behind his chief to steady him.
“He’s hideous!” Justine choked out a whisper.
“Yes, but once I inject this,” Kent whispered, “We’ll control him as we have done before.”
The werewolf growled menacingly. He knew he was trapped. His bonds were too strong for him to break this time. The tranquillizer had done its job, so far. The beast howled its frustration piteously; he knew he had gotten out of this room before. His response was that of any trapped animal – escape at any cost. He began to gnaw off his own arm, but before he could do any serious damage to himself, a 900-millimeter thorazine sledgehammer hit him right between the eyes.
“That should put those raging hormones in check,” Kent masked his relief with a chuckle as the werewolf slumped unconscious, “Now to work... with this newly developed serum we can control this ravenous beast against those god-awful vampires better that we ever could.”
“This beast is a man, Kent,” Justine whispered to herself, as she backed out of the room, “may God have mercy on us all.”
Maiden du Mystique
Posts: 109
(4/11/04 5:54 am) Reply
Re: Arrival of the English Rose...
Not a hundred metres from where Elizabeth Rancour prepares to entertain her guests, another young woman of London is present in the foreign city...
The young woman hurried through the dark streets quickly. Her hands tucked into the surprisingly old-fashioned cloak and the hood pulled up right over her hair and face, every available inch of the woman's skin is covered as she darts through the alleyways. Her breathing was steady, but as she came to the edge of the alleyway and looked up at the moon, thinly concealed behind a shroud of clouds, the aura of desperation she felt revealed itself.
Moll Damson drew back from the entrance of the alley quickly, flattening herself against the wall, glad of the darkness around her. The hood of the voluminous cloak fell down onto her shoulders to reveal her face, not a day over nineteen, as she rested her head back against the wall. Breathing more heavily, she uttered a few choice curses from her childhood in the slums and looked back down the alleyway again. A laughing couple moved past and Moll drew further back into the shadows, turning away so that the pale skin of her face wouldn't give her away.
"Dale, when I get my hands on you, you will get more than a slap..." she murmured under her breath.
"Glad to hear it, Moll," a female voice replied, followed by a quiet laugh. Moll whirled around, then looked up to see a strongly built, dark haired young woman sitting on the edge of the roof above her, framed against the moonlight. Moll pressed back against the wall with a barely suppressed growl as Monique shifted, letting a shaft of moonlight perilously close to the werewolf’s hands. The woman walked along the guttering of the rooftop for a few steps, grinning as she did a lithe pirouette, just for the thrill, then let herself down between Moll and the alley entrance. The werewolf pulled her hood back up before turning to face that way, her hands still firmly in her pockets. “The English Rose returns. 'Have a nice time in Ireland these past few weeks?” Monique asked.
“Monique, where the h...” Moll stopped, putting one gloved hand to her throat before continuing quietly. “Where is Dale?”
Monique shrugged. “Why?”
The werewolf shook her head bitterly. “I needed to give him something…Not a bit bloody reliable, is he? Feckless fool of a man…”
“’Feckless fool of a man’ – Downtown New York in this day and age and Moll Damsons still manages to speak like an uptown Londoner,” Moll replied in a singsong voice. Moll couldn’t help smiling, but when she did so Monique took an involuntary step backwards. Which is fair enough; two rows of sharp, beautifully white canine fangs is rarely a sight that most people want to get too closely acquainted with. The vampire hunter kept her distance as she continued, referring to Moll’s incoming transformation. She was one of the only ones who really knew about Moll. “You’re close as well?”
“No, I’m actually wearing a hallowe’en costume – surprise!” Came the snapped, sarcastic reply and Monique, strong and fierce though she was, took another step back. Moll tossed her heads irritably and her teeth glinted once again in the moonlight. “Sorry, it’s just…look, I’ll be able to control it for a while – I’ve exercised the other side already during this moon, it isn’t too pressing. I suppose they’re trying it out on Evin tonight?”
Monique rolled her eyes. “Ohhh yeah. I’m getting the troops together. You know about the vamps heyday I suppose?”
Moll raised a sardonic eyebrow. “Lady Rancour and Greyburn’s party of assorted miscreants? Aye, certainly. I don’t suppose….” She grinned wolfishly at Monique, revealing the rows of teeth again. “I don’t suppose I’d be allowed to give Lady Rancour a…present? From one Londoner to another?”
Monique laughed, her dark eyes glinting. “By all means, be my guest.” Having said so, she stepped out of the way of the alley entrance, mock-bowing…and the moonlight fell onto Moll’s face.
Moll joined in with her laughter, but the undertones of it seemed eerier than any human laughter, and it lasted longer, before a full-blown, eerie howl flowed from the werewolf’s now lupine throat.
The shaft of moonlight through the alley entrance revealed a being unrecognisable as Moll Damson’s, the cloaked young woman who had been there a few moments ago. Now in her place, with the dark mantle draped over its paws, stood a black wolf, its shoulders up to Monique’s waist, muscles rippling under its fluid skin as it shifted slightly to sit down. Shivering from tail to snout, the wolf then seemed to glance at Monique, and paused, apparently unconcernedly, to pick at something in it’s paw, as if to say ”see, I have control of this baby…”
Standing again, the wolf paused only to nudge her cloak further into the shadows before she glanced at Monique again. Ready?
“You bet, Moll,” grinned the adrenaline junkie. No sooner had she said it than the black predator loped with easy, dangerous speed down the alleyway: the power of Moll’s wolf side was out for the night…
The Hunt
The werewolf stood beside Kent calmly, its seven-foot frame towering over everyone in the room. A low growl, like the sound of sand and gravel rolling around deep within his broad chest, emanated from the beast continuously.
“He’s well and truly under control,” Kent enthused, smiling broadly but he could sense the usual uneasiness in his companions.
Dale Wintergreen, the twenty-year-old resident computer geek, stood up nervously. “I have a trace on at least sixteen vampires gathered in a nightclub near the east river. They’re moving among civilians.”
“I’m sure Kent’s wolfhound can take care of them,” Alice Kincaid offered, her voice innocent and without a hint of sarcasm. She was new to this group. At nineteen, she was still in college. Her sister had been brutally murdered by a vampire a year ago and Alice made up her mind to fight against the undead horrors right then. She met Kent and found a place in his hunting party.
“That’s his job, babe!’ Mace drawled, rolling his eyes at the nubile young girl.
“Right!” Alice grated, ignoring the man, “ Anyone seen Adam, I’d like to stay by his side when the fighting begins. That boy can sure kick some blood sucker behinds.”
“You can say that again,” Justine said quietly, fastening on her gun belt, UV guns in tow.
“Is everyone ready?” Monique called out from the vehicle shed. She was Justine’s twin, but in appearance if not in character. The scar running down the right side of her face differentiating her from her sister, and of course their fashion sense. This girl lived for the chase, the hunt and the kill. “Let’s get this show on the road. Dale, get here and get online.”
As the slim young man headed for the large van, where a set of his computers and tracking equipment had been set-up, the werewolf let out an ear-shattering howl.
Everyone froze.
“It works!” boomed a jubilant voice, “Holy Matrimony, it works indeed!”
“Martin!” Kent hollered, “What’s the meaning of this?” The leader of the group pointed at the small wooden projectile embedded in the werewolf’s left buttock. The beast howl dwindled down to a rumbling growl as its large, fur covered hand clawed at the source of its irritation.
Martin Zane, the middle-aged weapons master of the group ambled up, his portly frame quivering with his laughter. “My new stake-shooting gun, kind of like a cross-bow. See!” He held up the large metal bow, designed like a crossbow but with a few variations.
“Interesting,” Mace sauntered up.
“Yes! Yes!” Kent rasped, “But did you have to shoot the beast, as it is he’s rather a pain to control…”
“Aw, that’s nothing,” Martin laughed, “The furball heals up faster than anything we’ve seen, so why worry.”
“It’s not his healing factor, but his temperament I am worried about.”
Gingerly removing the stake, Justine backed away from the glowering man-animal. “Okay, you proved your point, pun intended, now let’s go and get this over with. Mace can test this new weapon tonight.”
“Why doesn’t Adam?” Alice asked, “He’s all big and strong to carry this thing.”
“Adam’s away for a while, girl,” Kent offered, ‘I’ve sent him on an errand. He’ll be here tomorrow.”
Alice nodded glumly, but looked skeptical. “If we live to see tomorrow.” She said softly.
“Into the Van, Alice,” Justine called, following Dale and Mace.
Kent and the werewolf jumped onto the wide roof of the vehicle as Monique hit the gas.
“Blood suckers beware,” The scar faced woman yelled, “Your time has come!”
The Prey
Gregore stood over the fresh kill of the night. He had drunk his fill and now his minions lapped up his leftovers. This was fun, he thought, a new land, ripe with easy pickings. He didn’t care much for the organized vampire covens and clans that existed through the ages. Where he came from, no such obligations were required. Here he was a leader of a group of vampires, refuges all like him from the cold European northeast, and they had made this alleyway, adjacent to a popular nightclub their stronghold for the past few weeks. It proved to be quite a profitable venture, with their meals coming in thick and fast every night. Gregore laughed aloud, licking the blood off his slim fingers.
He was young and strong; having been part of the undead for a good two score years now. Long white hair fell in wispy strands around his angular face, a high brow and arched eyebrows giving him an almost arrogant demeanor. His thin mouth, almost always curled in a mocking sneer, played off the malice in his dark eyes to perfection. The Siberian wasteland he called home, now a distant memory. A new life beckoned, here in the new world, a land of enormous opportunity. A decadent city of the night called New York.
“Yelena, Ilea…” he called. “Come we have to gather the troops… I believe there is a party we need to crash.”
“Mmmuh… a party,” Yelena moaned, her slender fingers caressing the blood soaked torso of their recent meal. She was blonde and beautiful. Tall, long legged and full figured. The dark leather outfit she wore that night, delineated every curve of her voluptuous form. Gregore had enjoyed introducing her to a life of undying pleasures. She has great respect for him, but no love.
Ilea on the other hand, a small, dark haired hellcat despised Gregore, but stayed with his group of sixteen vampires for her own protection. Rumours of merciless bands of vampire slayers were spreading all around and since they were new to this part of the world, strength in numbers was their only means of survival. She stood up, smoothing down her red dress, the colour of dark blood. It highlighted her ashen pallour perfectly, giving her the ominous appearance of the undead. The dark patches under her large green eyes helping as well.
“Gregore,” she hissed, “This mortal has merely served as an appetizer, and I need something more substantial to slake this burning thirst.”
“As do I, my love,” Yelena added huskily.
“Ladies, you…” Gregore began, but then a sudden explosion rocked the alley they were hiding in. The three fell to the dirt covered ground cursing.
“Nicolai, Andre, Yuri, Klaus… what is that?” The tall leader screamed as a dozen of his brethren came sailing through the air to land by his feet, the faces and torsos torn and smashed in.
As the remaining seven of his followers stepped up beside the awestruck Gregore and the two women, a large shadow loomed over the entrance of the alley. Slowly it moved toward them, a low rumbling growl emanating from its razor-fanged maw.
“Gregore… what is that?” Yelena squealed clutching at the gaping vampire leaders thin arm.
“Your deaths!” A voice boomed at them from behind the huge shadow.
Some News
**The shadowed figure leaned over Louis's dead body and wiped the knife on his suit. The rouge vampire stood, and kicked him. "Bloody stupid b******," was the thought that ran through the vampire's head. The creature of the night shrugged off the hideous human street clothes, and let them fall to the ground. It shuddered at the thought of what it may have looked like in those disgusting clothes.
An approaching group of chirpy teens caught the murderer's attention, and slid back into the shadows, and up the rusted fire-escape stairs, and onto the roof. The night was just beginning.
------------------------------------------------
More vampires began arriving. They were of Greyburn's and Langdon's clan. They were immediately attended to by Andrew and a few made they way over to the couch where Elizabeth and James sitting to pay respects.
"So did you invite any vampires of substance tonight?" James asked after one of Greyburn's cronies left.
"Lucian is coming."
"Lucian? What is he coming for? He's gotten so old that-"
Elizabeth cut him off
"He has been developing new weapons for fighting the werewolves,"
James fell silent, "Alright, who else?"
"My lady?" Elizabeth looked up, it was Andrew. He seemed terrified.
"What's wrong?" She asked standing up. Andrew looked around nervously and whispered something in her ear. "I'll be right back" She told James and walked off with Andrew. They went over to the main door, a little off to the side. James squinted behind his glasses, as though he was trying to hear what was being said.
"What's going on, Andrew? This isn't like you..." Elizabeth said, looking down at him.
"My Lady, it's young Louis..."
"What?" Elizabeth said. She wasn't surprised. It was always Louis. Most likely he wasn't going to come. Typical.
"He was found dead in the street, naught but a few hours ago." Andrew said, his voice dropping down to muted tones.
"Vampire hunters?" She asked, nearly at the same pitch. Her face didn't change. Andrew could have said that the sun is yellow and he would have elicited the same response.
Andrew shook his head. Elizabeth looked around quickly and then back to Andrew.
"The...place has been...taken care of?"
"Yes," Andrew said, "I am sorry, My lady."
"Yes, well save your sorries for someone more deserving." Elizabeth said, patting Andrew on the shoulder, before walking back over to the couch. Edited by: DayVampyre at: 4/14/04 6:05 am
Arrival
Osira smoothed down her corset and took a deep breath. She sauntered into the club, and winked at a few of the men looking at her. She titled her head, and looked toward the balcony to where the party was being held. She pushed her way through the throng of people, and up to the guards at the stairs.
"Excuse me, you can't go up there miss," One stuck his hand out.
"Of course I can," Osira said with a silky laugh, "I'm on the list. Osira Dikaios."
The other one checked his list, and nodded, "Go ahead, enjoy."
Osira walked up the steps, and surveyed the party.
'Impressive,' She thought, before making her way to Elizabeth.
------------------
Those who yeild are not always weak.
The rain-soaked street shone like silver under the three quarters moon. Rhea Kane strode down the city's backstreets, her arms jammed in her pockets, to all appearances trying to ward off the cold.
One street thug, apparently impervious to rain, looked at her expensive-looking coat and boots, as well as her lovely pale face and golden hair, and decided she would be an easy mark.
Clutching a sharp knife in his hand, he jumped out at her, wrapping an arm around her waist from behind and pressing his blade to her throat.
"Don't scream," he whispered thickly into her ear. "Be nice, and ye won't get hurt."
At first the thug thought Rhea was crying. Her whole body shook.
His last thought was the realization that she was laughing. The next second, two blades slashed through his abdomen. He dropped to the ground, screaming until he was choked with blood.
Smiling coldly, Rhea stepped over the body and continued her walk.
Massacre
The van had been parked just outside the alley and Kent and Mace detonated a fifteen-pound pulse-bomb of pure UV light. It was harmless to humans, but the deafening sound and blinding light had cleared the area of bystanders. Momentarily shaken and disoriented by the explosion, the vampires had been taken by surprise at the werewolf’s violent attack.
“There’s more than sixteen of them,” Dale cried from the safety of the vehicle.
“We can see that.” Mace mumbled, setting up the large metal crossbow and nocking two wooden stakes on either side. “The more the merrier, eh.”
Dale shivered in silence. Beside him, Alice Kincaid sat wide eyed as she watched the werewolf tear into the ragged group of vampires, the high powered UV sniper rifle long forgotten in he small hands.
“You think he’ll leave any for us,” Monique grinned at her twin. But Justine ignored her sister. She didn’t find any of this amusing or to her liking.
Kent on the other hand was enjoying himself. “Look at the boy go,” he laughed, “he’s a one man vampire wrecking machine.”
Nine vampires surrounded the werewolf, their steel knives bared. They hacked and slashed at the beast but its talons flashed among them and its great jaws tore at their flesh. Seven were down and at least four dead for sure and two vampires remained to fight the beast. One leapt upon the beast thrusting his short hunting blade, but searing talons ripped his head off at the neck. The second vampire turned and fled.
The werewolf rose up howling, blood coating its white fur, fangs gleaming in the moonlight, its eyes reflecting a rabid malevolence to match its deeds. Two more vampires of Gregore’s horde flew out of the darkness at its throat and went down, broken and bleeding, under massive sweeping claws. Another creature of the night watched with bulging eyes as the werewolf’s arm swept up, claws raking him open from groin to neck. Tossing broken and shattered bodies left and right, the beast that was Adam Evin a few hours gone, bore down on Gregore and his two female companions as they covered in the darkness of the alley. His four bodyguards, the ones he had named, formed a shield and faced the monster.
Gregore screamed incoherently as a dark shadow loomed over his brethren, pushing them back into a tight semi-circle, many of them nursing burns from the UV gun blasts. They kept backing as the great beast advanced, tongue lolling and red eyes burning. A massive hand grabbed one of the vampires by the neck and squeeze. A terrible howl came from the frightened vampire but was cut short as it was lifted it off the ground and its rib cage exploded, the werewolf’s other fist plowing through. Hurling the corpse ten feet into the shadows, the werewolf rounded on the remaining bloodsuckers. In a single bound he was upon them, tearing, rending and shredding. This razor claws disemboweling the creatures that were once the brothers Nicolai and Yuri Kraniev. Fangs fastened on the beasts shoulder as a huge vampire leapt at him, but he tore it loose, curling his huge hand around its neck and dangling I loosely before his blood mad eyes.
Yelena winced as she heard the neck creak and snap, then the lycanthrope tossed the corpse aside. Andre had fled, leaving Gregore and the two women at the werewolf’s mercy.
“At them, boy,” Kent bellowed, running in after the werewolf, followed by Mace and Monique. “Tear them to shreds.”
“Careful, chief!” Mace warned even as the werewolf reached out for the cornered vampires.
Gregore couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw the werewolf rushing at his ruffians. His eyes popped harder when he saw it tear through them like a hurricane. And now it loomed over his head, fangs bared and drooling, a wicked, feral bloodlust in its crimson eyes. He had to escape, his terrified mind screamed. Then, with explosive suddenness, he grabbed Ilea and hurled her into the werewolf’s arms. The beast reacted just as swiftly, grabbing the frenzied female in its massive hand and placing her gently on the floor.
That was all the time Gregore needed to break into a run. He cannoned into a startled Kent, bowling him over and ran for the entrance of the alley, the werewolf in hot pursuit. The suddenly Andre leapt down on the rampaging werewolf, brandishing a sword of gleaming steel. The vampire thrust out at the lycanthropes belly; the blade entered the fur-covered flesh just as the beast’s great fangs closed over Andre’s head and his face disappeared in a spray of crimson. Hurling the mangled body aside, th possessed Adma Evin loped after the fleeing vampire leader.
“The witches,” Monique yelled, “Kill the two witches.”
Yelena and Ilea were nowhere in sight.
“How’d that happen?” Mace growled, lifting Kent off the filthy ground.
“They got away. This sucks!”
“Well, we got about twenty of them.” Alice said, strolling up. “Or the werewolf did… and you didn’t even get to test that crossb…”
A dark shadow fell over the girl. Her large eyes grew larger as gleaming white fangs descended towards her face. Then suddenly, the pointed end of a wooden stake erupted through the vampire’s brow, right between its eyes, and it toppled to the ground.
“You were saying, princess…” Mace drawled, flipping the crossbow over, ready to fire the second stake.
Alice stood, stock-still and trembled as Justine put her arm around the girl. “That was well done, Marlon. But we could do with the wise cracking.”
”Our work here is down.” Kent said, dusting himself. “The werewolf will return to its lair soon. It’ll be sun-up in an hour, these bodies will all dissolve.”
“But what of the three that got away?” Dale asked. “Won’t they come after us.”
“I don’t think so.” Kent replied tersely, “I regret having asked Moll to stay behind. I think our giant werewolf has a weakness against female vampires. Did any of you notice his hesitation when he cornered the three in the alley and then the way he treated the small female vampire?”
“Yes, it’s as if he didn’t want to attack the women.” Justine said quietly.
“How chivalrous,” Monique sneered, “our knight if furry armour.”
“Hey, I didn’t see you use your UV guns.” Justine snapped.
“Neither did you, sister.”
“But you were closer. You had the shot…”
“Yeah, but you were all so busy watching wolf boy in action, you can’t really blame each other.” Mace laughed, glancing at Alice.
“And I suppose you were admiring that blonde bloodsucker’s big bo…” Monique screeched at the tall man.
“Enough of that,” Kent said harshly, “Let’s get going before the authorities arrive. We’ve all seen the werewolf’s capabilities and I think it’s time we went after some big game now.”
“The Rancours.” Mace smiled, hefting the crossbow. Edited by: Cimmerian at: 4/16/04 7:27 pm
Face Off
Gregore was panting hard. Never in his short life as an immortal had he stared death in the face this close. His heart pounding near to bursting, he streaked across the shadowed streets. He could hear the werewolf’s loping stride behind him, could almost feel its breath down his neck. His legs hurt, a sensation he had never felt for a long time, yet he ran on. All of his brother vampires, slain with such ease and malevolence. That was no ordinary werewolf, something had to be done. He had to get to the Greyburn estate and offer his services as a lowly. At least he’d be protected in a large group.
Yelena, what about her… was she safe? His frenzied mind screamed. He should have done better than leave her like that. Frantic thoughts raced around his head as he rounded the corner into another alley. He hoped that the werewolf would have lost his scent; he threw himself flat on the ground and crawled over the garbage-strewn pavement. Safe at last. His mind sighed in relief. And then he froze. The scent of wet fur and blood tickled his nostrils. Cursing inwardly he looked up and gasped. Before him stood a smaller werewolf, black fur and gleaming eyes. Snarling, he leapt to his feet. This one he could handle, he was sure. It appeared to be a female.
“Time to die, she dog!” He snarled, whipping out his twin, jewel hilted daggers, their curved blades gleaming wickedly in the moonlight. The last thing he saw was a clawed hand, dark and slender slashing out his throat.
“My sentiments exactly!” Moll rasped.
The slender female were beast rose up to her full height, licking the blood off her fingers. Her large eyes scanned the darkness and her nostrils flared. Any moment now, she thought. And true enough; a thrashing sound erupted from the entrance of the alley and a huge creature bounded into the filth littered pavement. He stopped just before Moll, towering over her. His red eyes briefly rolled over the decapitated Gregore and then locked back onto the female werewolf. His lolling tongue flicked over gleaming fangs.
“If you assume that I am here to clean up after you, you’re sadly mistaken,” Moll growled. “You may be Kent’s new pet, but you’re not taking over my beat.”
“Keennntt!” slurred the white werewolf.
“How quaint, a killing machine with a speech impediment.” Moll laughed, a deep rumbling echo.
“Keennntt… nnneed… vunnn… killll… errrr.” Adam growled with obvious difficulty, raising both hands over Moll’s head, claws ready to strike. Edited by: Cimmerian at: 4/20/04 3:34 pm
....
Westly had been idling by the fire place, the swirling flames were quite hypnotic. He hated being here, it reeked of hypocrisy. He looked over to his father, how could he be so unaware, Westly thought, how can he be so oblivious to it all? Didn't he see that they weren't accepted by these priggish fossils? Westly grabbed a drink from drink from the tray going by.
He had just taken a drink when she walked into the room. He smiled, but how could he not when Osira was around. One of the few vampires that he trusted, especially here. He watched as she seemed to float over to Elizabeth's couch.
He easily sped over and intercepted her before she could reach Elizabeth.
Cry Wolf!
David Evin stood alone in the deserted park somewhere in upstate New York. He was a tall man, and broad of shoulders. He stooped a little when he walked. The hair on his head and face was dark and flecked with silver. He looked like a normal middle-aged man going about his business but the feral gleam in his dark eyes spelt out the madness that raged in his soul. And his business was anything but normal.
Eleven years ago he witnessed first hand the mutilation and murder of his beloved wife and teenaged daughter at the hands of group of bloodthirsty vampires. The experience drove him to madness. He fled that night, taking his nine-year-old son with him, but his life was never the same. His sanity on edge, he gave up his job in the museum of Ancient Civilizations when he discovered a book of arcane knowledge in the storage section of the museum. He stole the book and it became his bible, his source of sustenance, and his weapon of war against the undead horde. The book also stole the last vestiges of sanity from the man. The book told of many secrets of dark and evil arts, and David, in his madness used his own son as his first test subject. His tests were failures, or so he thought and now he carried on his quest using other subjects. He has had no contact with his son for the last six years and believes him to be dead, blaming himself for the act and further driving himself to the nadir of insanity.
The week before his war against the undead brought defeat, all nine of his agents were easily dealt with by James Carr and his ilk. But not this night, this night the moon was full and the powers of the lycanthrope was at its peak.
Nine men knelt before the wild-eyed man - bums, winos and vagrants with shining eyes, men whom society had turned its back on, men whom no one would miss. It was easy to acquire such men, all he needed was to make a promise of free drink and they would follow him to the gates of hell. Precisely where he intended, he had laughed.
Now he walked among the men, his ankle length black overcoat flapping in the night breeze, and handed each man a drink of whisky, or at least they thought it was whisky. He watched their eyes as they drank, noting the swelling of the pupil and dawning of incomprehension.
“My children,” he said slowly, “You are the chosen. You whom life has robbed, you will be strong again. Sleek and strong. Power will flow in your veins. And then having tasting strength you will be free to do as you will. You have been chosen to fight the war against the undead minions of the night.”
They sat still, their eyes fixed on his. Not a movement came from them, not a blink, seemingly not a breath. Satisfied, David Evin reached for the leather bound tome that lay at his feet. Flipping open the book, he threw back his head to the nigh sky and howled.
Then in a voice that seemed from beyond he chanted the words written millennia ago. His eyes closed, he allowed his mind to flow into the night reaching out to the spirits of the wild, feeling the pulse of the land and tuning it to his own. He felt the vast bestial power of the savage rushing into his own, swelling within him, seeking to explode the frail man shell that held it. The graying man opened his eyes, stilling the adrenal surge within his veins.
“In these parts, the undead roamed. Their foul stench is upon the land. The image that you form from the scent, burn it into your minds, feel the searing hatred of their scent I your nostrils. They are strong, but not as strong as you all will be. They are fast and deadly, but not as fast and deadly as you, my children.
“Their flesh will be sweet, their blood like the wine of the mountains. No other flesh can sustain you. All other food will be poison to you. The vampires alone will give you life.”
David Evin took a deep breath and moved among the kneeling men to touch each at the base of his neck. As he touched them, they tensed and growled, their eyes fixed on the blank darkness before them. Suddenly, the crazed man screamed holding aloft the book and dark shadows leapt out from as if the earth itself. Shadowed forms of great wolves, their fangs gleaming lunged at the nine kneeling men. The great fangs fastened to the throats of the men. The men made no move as the fangs sliced through flesh and bone.
The shadows shuddered and shrank while the men swelled. Fingers swelled into fur covered raking claws, nails darkening and curling into talons. Rip cages expanded, bloated with new muscle, shoulders broadened and the creatures loomed upright, towering over the screaming madman. Fur covered their entire bodies as rotted and tattered clothing fell apart as did their human shells.
“Turn to me, my children,” David Evin screamed. The nine beasts obeyed him and he felt the power of their blood red eyes upon him, felt the full savagery of their stares.
“Go forth and kill!” He bellowed and the nine beasts padded into the night.
Maiden du Mystique
Posts: 125
(4/19/04 1:13 am) Reply
Moll
Moll watched the huge beast through her yellow eyes with something like amusement and absently ran her tongue over canine teeth. The beast in front of her seemed almost more human that wolf, and certainly seemed to have rather alot of bear in it. She sighed, recognising it. A sired werewolf rather than a natural. Sitting back, she tilted her nose slightly so as to look down it at the werewolf in front of her - a deliberately infuriating gesture.
"Are you lost?" she said slowly and patronisingly. This was enough for the beast. It leapt at the smaller werewolf. Moll gave a feral grin and leapt to the side, causing the monster to crash into a pile of bins behind her with a clatter and a surprising, muffled growl. It shook the bags and debris from it's giant head, growling at Moll with glowing eyes. The she-wolf narrowed her eyes at it and her back bristled slightly although she did not move. "Just you try it..." she growled quietly.
But it seemed the other werewolf was honestly trying to tell her something. Twisting his mouth with difficulty around words it was obviously unnaccustomed to, it began to try to speak again. Deciding to listen this time, Moll narrowed her eyes this time in concentration and tried to listen over the sense in her brain that was telling her of the blood and live prey, so near... She shook her head. You are not an animal...
"Kennt...needd....vun...killl-ar..." the huge wolf tried. Moll took a moment to try to decipher it, feelining like she was playing an odd parlour game of charades.
"Kent? Adam Kent?" she tried. The wolf nodded furiously. "O-kay...Adam needs…one killer?” she hazarded. The werewolf paused as if to think, then gave a single nod. Moll regarded him blankly for a second, then sighed, a strange thing from a wolf, and rolled her eyes, an even stranger thing.
“My fine friend, I shall be straight with you and tell you that I have not a clue what you are talking about,” she said, crystal-clear. The wolf snarled and looked like he was either going to lunge at her again or try to speak again and she held up a fore-pad. “No, please, don’t…strain yourself. Look, whatever it is that Kent wants, I’m sure he would agree with some right down to it vamp-clobbering, correct?”
The werewolf snarled and it’s lips broke apart to give a chilling grin. Moll couldn’t help shrinking back very slightly.
“Nice,” she said weakly, then turned towards the chaos of the fight nearby.
Edited by: mym at: 4/19/04 5:07 am
Re: Partay
Rhea Kane strolled through the door of the club, still spattered with the blood of her dead attacker. Heads turned as she entered, and several of the weaker vampires backed away. Rhea's temperament was infamously mercurial - one would never know whatshe was thinking, or when she might strike.
Lucian
Time had passed and her guests seemed to have had enough to drink. Elizabeth moved from the couch, James following her. She went to her chair at the head of the table and sat down. The rest got the point, they had not been invited here only to party. The Greyburn Clan took up the opposite end of table, Westly was muttering something inaudible into Osira's ear. The Langdons silently fought for prominent chairs as Elizabeth took a full glass from Andrew.
"I have called you all here for a reason," Elizabeth said, her accented voice reverberating off the walls, commanding the room's attention, "We have encountered a growing problem...you are all aware no doubt of the Vampire Murderer. The total had been at nine. Tonight, the butcher has rounded out his number to an even ten."
A surprised murmur ran about the table. Westly coughed on his laugh. He quickly tried to re-compose himself and then asked, "Who was it?"
"My brother," Elizabeth said, plainly, "He was the tenth. We are also having to now contend with lice ridden mongrels. Werewolves have resurged and have allied themselves with humans. They are...trying...to hunt us down and...kill us." She said, looking each vampire in the eye as she spoke, "We have been developing new ways of getting rid of these...creatures." Elizabeth paused to take in a breath when the black obsidian door slammed open. A man with rough brown hair, greying at the ends walked in. He wore a big black trench coat and black jeans, he had a wild look in his eyes, like a mad scientist. Over both of his arms were shoulder straps connected to two large bulging black canvas bags. He walked in as all eyes fell to him.
"couldn't wait?" He asked, his scraggy voice filling the dead air. He paused a moment to light a cigarette and then flumped the bags on the table. He unzipped them as Elizabeth spoke.
"Well, if you could be on time Lucian." Elizabeth said, "Lucian has some new toys for us." She said, addressing the group.
"Aye," he said, he seemed to alive with energy as he took out some guns, semi-automatics they seemed to be."These will put down the doggies in no time." He said cocking on and firing it. It went off with a blast and went through Andrew who had been standing near the wall. He didn't know what had hit him. He slid to the ground, leaving behind a trail of blood on the wall.
"What is your problem?" Westly shouted
"Ah, put a lid on it boy," Lucian growled, "You'll be wanting one of your soon enough. These are loaded with armor piercing silver bullets...should mow down anything in your path." He said, tossing it to Westly. "I only have three perfected, the bullets are time consuming to make, but I have brought a number of other weapons as well." He looked around for an empty chair. There wasn't one. Lucian looked down at a nervous Langdon. The blond haired boy didn't look up.
"You're in my chair."
"Is that a fact?" The boy squeaked.
"Mmm, that's a fact." Lucian replied,taking a drag on his cigarette and breathed out the white smoke, slamming his hand on the top of the chair, the boy speedily got up.
"So," Lucian said, "Don't be shy, I wouldn't recommend anyone leaving without one," He said gesturing at the bags.
Beasts feast!
The cold night air rustling back their gleaming fur and whistling by their pointed ears, the nine werewolves loped through the streets and alleys of New York City at mercurial speed. Always ignoring the people they frightened, the nine raced on, only one ambition in their savage minds, one desire in their savage hearts.
Lesardis lurked in the shadows cast by the overbearing trees in the deserted park. This was the best time to catch a meal. Young lovers often frequented this part of the city at precisely this time of night. The full moon instilling some notion of romanticism in the minds of the stupid humans. He couldn’t believe he was once like them, but that was fifty years ago, now he enjoyed his nocturnal life as an undead. The power, the lust and the prospect of an immortal life filled him with a sense of erotic thrill.
His victim tonight, he smiled would be the nubile young brunette nestling in her lover’s arms just behind the tree he lurked around. His fangs gleaming, he ran his tongue over thin lips. Young women ever so made a tasty tidbit. As he prepared to surprise the blissful couple, he felt the hairs on the back on his neck rising. Some else was here, someone evil and extremely malevolent, someone seeking his death. He grinned; he had heard of those foolish human hunters, he could handle them. First however, he would partake in the succulent repast that awaited him. Casually he strolled out before the couple, grinning widely, baring gleaming fangs. The girl screamed as the vampire reached for her, her boyfriend having fallen aside from a swat to the face. Lesardis grabbed at the girl’s golden hair, pushing the lustrous tresses back to reveal a slender neck. But then he froze; there were more than just one hunter, much closer than he had anticipated. No human could move that fast, not even on wheels, and that scent; no human bore that kind of odour either.
The lead werewolf surged into Lesardis, knocking him off his feet. The girl screamed at the sight of the giant wolf-beast, but it ignored her and the young man with her. Its blood mad eyes glued to the sprawled vampire, the werewolf howled as eight more of its kind loped out of the darkness beside him.
Annette watched in horror, forgetting to scream as her boyfriend slumped to the ground, unconscious with fear. The vampire tried to rise, mortal fear rattling his mind. His eyes wide in shock as the sharp gleaming fangs descended toward him, claws ripping and tearing. The predator had become prey. The werewolves ripped apart the vampire limb from limb, savagely gnawing and swallowing. Wide eyed and stunned, Annette watched in silence as the were-beasts feasted on vampire flesh.
Reflection
“A good night’s work,” Kent said, wiping his face with a towel. Mace and Justine sat opposite him in his private office. “What do you two think?”
“Well, he’s good… as long as you’re holding his leash.” Mace drawled.
“I agree,” the slim woman added, “Though I feel it would have been better had we tested him in tandem with Moll. To see how they worked together.”
“I know,” Kent sighed, “It was poor judgment on my part. I assumed that Adam would be unstable in her presence. Besides, has she returned already?”
“Yes, Monique met her earlier tonight.” Justine replied, ”My sister has somehow found out about Moll’s condition and I fear she may snoop out Adam’s as well.”
“As long as she doesn’t go blurting it out to the newbies, we’re all right.” Mace said, stretching his aching back. “On the whole we had a good night, twenty one of the bloodsuckers won’t lurk around the streets anymore.”
“Yes, we did well tonight,” Kent added, rubbing his chin, “We’ll run a test with Moll and Adam in tandem tomorrow, the effect of the full moon should linger for a few days now, though they may not be as powerful as tonight.”
“Well, who’s going to break the news to Moll that she’s got competition?” Mace inquired with a grin.
“Can’t put it that way, Mace,” Kent replied tersely, “They have to be a team and not try to one up each other. It’s hard enough to control them without having them out gunning each other.”
“Did you know Adam’s father, Kent?” Justine asked abruptly.
Kent looked at her irritated. “Yes, I did. Why do you ask?”
“We’ve got some reports of a madman a few miles outside the city limits, something to do with dark powers and werewolves. It is said that some shadow beasts protect him. Wasn’t that the last description we had of David Evin?”
“That’s correct, Justine.” Kent replied quietly, “I Knew him a long time ago, when we were younger men with hopes and dreams like every normal man. Like mine, the filthy vermin called vampires too had destroyed his family, but unlike me the whole incident unhinged him. While I choose to fight the undead logistically, David tended to use more unconventional methods, almost bordering on the occult. Thus driving him further down the dark recesses of insanity. I had hoped that he had perished. The last time I saw him, he was so drunk with the powers of that accursed tome he possesses, he and thrown him self down a dark mineshaft in Portugal. So now he’s back. I must say I had always feared that. I have to keep Adam close.”
“Where is Adam now?” Mace growled.
“He ran off after that vampire?” Justine offered.
“The effects of the lycanthrope will wear off in a few hours, then he’ll find his way back here.” Kent said matter of fact wise and returned to his studies.
“We’ll brief the others on tomorrow’s excursion. Dale says there’s some activity in that old park by the cemetery.” Mace intoned.
‘Good! Good!” The middle-aged leader of the vampire hunters grunted in reply as Justine and Mace slowly stepped out of his private chamber.
Afection
“Dale!” Alice Kincaid said sweetly, “Where did Kent send Adam?”
“I can’t say,” the slim youth replied, nervously replied. Close proximity to women made his uncomfortable and Alice sensed it.
The young woman eased up to him and leaned over his back to peer at the computer screens. “Can’t you find him with those gizmo’s you use,” she purred.
“Er, I… ah, it’s for locating vampires,” Dale stammered as Alice ruffled his blond hair playfully.
“Really, you must be a genius to work up such a program.”
“No, I... well… mostly,” Dale managed as Alice ran her hands over his hairless cheeks.
“Well, well!” Monique laughed, entering the van. “At work already, Daleyboy.”
“Yes, we need to pinpoint the location of the vampires for tomorrow…” The young man replied, blushing furiously.
“Get some rest, kid!” Monique replied, glancing coldly at Alice. “Tomorrow will be fine. Did you know Moll is back?”
“Re-really!”
“Who’s Moll?” Alice asked innocently.
“You’ll find out.” Monique replied without emotion as walked out of the van carrying two UV powered rifles.
“She’s a bitch!” Alice hissed quietly.
“Don’t say that,” Dale stammered, "She’s the best.”
‘What-Ever!” The young woman sighed, ”Oh, Adam, where could you be?”
Adam and Moll!
The giant white werewolf still stood pondering, perplexed at the she-werewolf’s words. A low rumble rolled across as if from deep within its massive breast. He threw back his huge, shaggy head and howled at the moon. His time would soon be over; he knew that and something within him prevented him from lashing out at the smaller were-creature before him. Was the something that Kent had sullied him with or was it something that stemmed from the reasoning that lay buried beneath his savage, animal mind? All this was too much for the confused creature and he howled again piteously, his great claws raking against his own massive chest, drawing blood, rich crimson blood. The deep gashes then immediately seemed to heal by themselves, the blood congealed and coagulated, the wounds closed upon themselves and dried into scars and the scars then faded and the wet fur gleamed whitely again.
Some of the humanity that remained in his savage mind tried to comprehend the logic. One killer, him, could kill ten vampires, then two killers, him and her, could together kill twenty vampires in the same time. Her words came back to him.
“My fine friend, it seems you know who I am, so I shall be straight with you and tell you that I have not a clue what you are talking about,” she had said, “No, please, don’t… strain yourself. Look, whatever it is that Kent wants, I’m sure he would agree with some right down to it vamp-clobbering, correct? And two of us… um… special breed of killers are better than one.”
“Hurrr… two… bettuurrr… annn…. vunnn…” He slurred at the female of his kind. “Rrrriite, mmauullll.”
Moll turned to face him again, “That’s right, friend! That is so right indeed!”
Adam stood still, his red eyes staring down at Moll as she stared back quizzically, her sharp mind wracking itself trying to figure out whom this werewolf might be. Was it Mace? No, she knew him… too straightforward. Someone she hadn’t known well in the group? Someone Kent brought in from outside, or was it that new guy, that big and tall fellow in the rocker outfit, Adam?
OOC - The last paragraph is Moll's thought's you can follow up on it if you like, Mym!
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