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| Thread: World of Darkness (RP) |  This thread is pages long: 1 2 3 4 5 6 · NEXT» |
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baklava
Honorable
Legendary Hero
Mostly harmless
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posted March 06, 2009 04:55 PM |
bonus applied by Mytical on 04 Apr 2009. |
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World of Darkness (RP)
Prologue
Visegrad castle, Hungary, 15th century
Misty clouds gathered around the citadel as if dancing to the inscrutable music of the night. It was far past midnight, and most of the sleepy guards pulled back to their quarters, confident there will be no incursions within this part of the kingdom tonight. The meager light of several torches scattered around the fortifications only served to underline the shadows engulfing the looming fortifications; it seemed as if the entire castle was drowned in an eerie yet mind-numbing obscurity.
A tall, shady figure clad in an elegant cape as black as charcoal walked slowly and graciously across the Lower Castle. It passed the gate leading to a large, hexagonal building called the Solomon Tower, and stood in the place for a second, as if thinking. Then it opened the door with a light movement of the thin, pale hand adorned with a single, ruby ring.
The torches burned in the base of the tower. It was still not too pleasant to see the flames swirling so wildly and chaotically at their surroundings, even after all these years. Like raging, little... suns. But there were more important matters at hand, the figure thought as she pulled down her cape, leaving her in a tight, onyx-black corset, a gray, silken shirt and an elegant skirt also dyed in black and gray. Her dense, dark hair fell to the middle of her back as she smiled, not too sincerely, at the four menacing men sitting around a large, wooden table in the middle of the chamber.
"Greetings. May my sanctuary feel as your own," she said, the careful smile still hanging upon her young, beautiful face. Her eyes, however, did not seem to smile at all; and they had a much more ancient look upon them.
"Lady Catharina. So noble of you to grace us with your presence," said one of the men around the table; a gray-haired man, seemingly in his forties, wearing a dark green tunic adorned with precious stones. The others nodded, except for the person sitting at the top of the table, his face sunken into the surrounding shadows.
"I am honoured that you have chosen my humble citadel as your refuge, lord Alexandru."
The second man, hairless but well-built and definitely good-looking, struck the table with his hand.
"We have not gone into refuge, lady Catharina, nor we ever shall" he said. "We do not abandon our land to save our skin. Unlike some."
"Unlike some, lord Radu" the third figure - a thin, dry, pale gentleman in a brown cape and an elegant, dark robe, with long, blond hair tied in a tail - interrupted him sharply, "we as Tzimisce have always respected the hospitality and authority of our hosts, and shall certainly forgive lady Catharina for her unfortunate choice of words."
Lord Radu sat back in his chair grumpily, under the dagger-like gaze of the brown-cloaked man. "I have gone ahead of myself, lord Ilias," he murmured. "I apologize."
"It is I who need to apologize. I assure you, lord Radu, that I have never had any intention of insulting you or your kin," lady Catharina said carefully. "And I am grateful that you have forgiven me."
"As much as it pains me to admit so, I understand lord Radu's... impatience," the first man, lord Alexandru, said. "The recent events in our homeland have, as you may know, been less than acceptable."
"Ah yes, the mystery figure we've been hearing so much about," Catharina answered. "But he is a mere human noble, surely he does not pose much of a threat?"
"You have not yet met this man, lady Catharina," Alexandru replied. "He may have had the blood and flesh of a human, but he more than makes up for it in his mind and soul."
"And an army," Radu added. "No matter how superior we are to humans, humans have enough numbers to be able to seek us out and take us down, one by one. Which is exactly what he did to some of our... slower brethren. I know not how he found out about us, but we too know about him. And it is only a matter of time when I shall rip out his..."
"You mentioned that he had the blood and flesh of a human?" lady Catharina interfered. Though Lasombra aren't known to be weak-stomached, she never did like to hear about the things Tzimisce would do to their enemies.
"Indeed," Ilias replied. "However, in his search for power, he has managed to capture two of ours and..." He paused for a moment, before continuing slowly. "...coerce them into embracing him."
"What?" Catharina yelled. It was not wise to yell at a Tzimisce, especially if they outnumber you, no matter what their traditions say. But this was just too sudden.
"He caught them off-guard, and tortured them until one of them made him a Tzimisce," Alexandru said. "But without all the blood bonds we have put in place to control our members. He is a renegade Kindred now, and he continues to fight us with an even greater vigor than he ever had. That's the reason we came here, to seek help from your clan," Alexandru said.
And to save yourselves, Catharina thought. After all, no matter what they say, that is what this is about. The eyes of the silent fourth Tzimisce in the shades seemed to gleam for a second. Voivod Mihnea; the Sabbat ruler over all of Wallachia. A powerful kindred, as unpredictable as he is cunning. Could he hear her? Could he read what she thought? Impossible. Those tricks are reserved for beings weaker than she is.
"I will be sure to inform my superiors," she said. "Something must be done. There is, alas, few of us in this part of the continent, but you have done a good thing to have come to me. I shall summon everyone I can, and they should be here in a few days' time."
"Do hurry," Alexandru said. "The Camarilla may find out about this. They shall probably send someone to coerce this newborn threat to join them. And even if he doesn't, we shall still be attacked on two fronts; by both the Camarilla and this bloodthirsty madman."
"Eastern Europe is our ancestral ground," Ilias added. "If only one part of it, such as Wallachia, should fall, the entire Sabbat might be endangered."
"I shall certainly take that into account," Catharina replied. "Now if you will excuse me, I need to send some urgent messages..."
"Lady Catharina," a dusty voice said, filling the room with its presence. The shaded figure, voivod Mihnea, arose from his chair, leaning over and exposing himself to candlelight. He was a menacing, yet awe-inspiring sight; the crimson robes he was clad in were adorned by dozens of runes and signs comprehensible to none by himself, the high, blood red collar surrounding his neck like a wall surrounds a fortress, his long, white hair graciously sprawling down his spine. His middle-aged face, though otherwise perfect in every way, bore a large scar from forehead to cheek, right over the eye; he could have removed it through the dark Tzimisce art of fleshcrafting, but no doubt he savoured it for the right moment. She'd heard he earned that scar when he fought this rebel prince himself, and the only thing Tzimisce enjoy more than sheer cruelty is vengeance.
"Yes, my lord?" she said, glancing into his eyes again. They seemed able to send fear down the spine of any being, mortal or not. She wasn't comfortable with him; but she was grateful that he was on her side. Or at least not against her. Yet.
"Let your forces know that I will be there to lead, organize and... discipline them. I shall not remain here to rot in hiding and feeding on peasantry like a carrion. I am the Sabbat voivod of Wallachia, and it is only fitting that I act that way."
He stopped and closed his eyes, but Catharina had a feeling he wasn't finished yet. And indeed, he opened his eyes and continued, in an even colder and eerier voice than before.
"And finally... Vlad Dracula is to suffer final death by no one's hand but mine."
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Lith-Maethor
Honorable
Legendary Hero
paid in Coin and Cleavage
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posted March 07, 2009 06:58 PM |
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Burg Lockenhaus, SouthWest of Pressburg
For nearly two months now, the surrounding area has been overrun with caravans, most of them Roma, gypsies. Several closed wagons made it in at slow but steady rate since the first caravans appeared. When the Roma left the caravans remained.. hidden under the canopy of trees, waiting for something, someone, a sign.
As often when important events take place, it was raining when the three black horses appeared, their riders cloaked and clearly guiding their steeds towards the castle, completely ignoring the mud and fallen trees along the way. One could almost feel that the land itself did not want the riders on it, they were not welcome and they knew it, but that would soon change, soon the land would succumb to their wishes.
About a hundred metres from the castle the riders stop, the one in the middle nodded slightly at the other two, his face hidden by the hood for the most part, except for his chin... smooth skin marked only with a strip of hair, black and silver, pale under the light of a gibbous moon. The other two riders spurred their horses and started for the castle again, coming to a stop only when the two armed guards prompted them to.
The rider that stayed behind watched in a rather detatched manner as the others impaled the two guards on the castle gates with their own halberds, they never stood a chance really, not against those two,. As the two cloaked figures slipped inside the rider smirked slightly, he could smell what was ahead... blood... life... vitae. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, smiling slowly, times like these he could almost understand the lesser ones.
The horses started getting restless after a few moments, the chilling screams coming from the castle only added to the chaos of the raging storm outside. The rider lowered his head a bit, then dismounted, landing on a crouch. He took a handful of mud and let it coat his gloved fingers then looked up at the castle gates, moving to stand slowly.
Two women and a man came running out of the castle a few seconds later, covered in blood from head to toe and clearly in panic. The man was a guard, still in armour and heavily wounded but with sword in hand and glancing over his shoulder, making sure nothing followed. The two women, at the ripe old age of 20 were of similar built, with long dark hair, but that is where the similarities ended.
One of the women was dressed in the finest of dresses, clearly of wealth, if not noble blood, while the other one was wearing a servant's outfit, only marginally better than what one might expect from a peasant girl. With blood and mud all over them it was hard to tell if either of them was ever what a civilised man would call clean.
As they moved closer, the cloaked man whispered something, an ancient command, causing the guard to scream in pain - and the women in horror - as he burst into flames. Unphased by the screams, the cloaked man simply moved towards the women, grabbing one of them by the throat and holding her a foot or so above ground, tilting his head slightly.
When he spoke, his voice was smooth, soothing, warm even, the accent hinted at eastern origins, perhaps the lands that were once Byzantium, now under Ottoman rule. He sounded young, but age was a very relative thing with creatures such as he. None of the above was very comforting to the two young women, who were too terrified to even try and escape, as futile as that would have been
"Nice castle, I'll take it"
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You are suffering from delusions of adequacy.
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Geny
Responsible
Undefeatable Hero
What if Elvin was female?
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posted March 07, 2009 10:11 PM |
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Edited by Geny at 09:40, 16 Mar 2009.
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Kracow, Poland
Despite the dark clouds slowly moving from the west, the town was filled with the silvery light of the moon. The silent streets would have been empty if not for a middle aged man who silently made his way across town. He wore the clothes of a commoner and a long, worn out brown cape with a hood that hid his eyes in the shadows.
He was walking for quite some time, submerged in thought, until something made him stop in the middle of a street. His hood turned slightly to the right. After a moment of hesitation, the man continued his journey and didn't seem to notice three figures coming out of the shadows behind him.
Silently, the figures followed the lonely man, gaining on him with every passing second. When their target entered a small, shaded alley they knew it was the time to make their move. The three ran into the alley and to their surprise found the man standing right in front of them.
"We wanted to have a talk with you, Jew." said the leader of the group, spitting out the last word as if it was poison, "If we kill you, not only will we get richer, but we will be one step closer to heaven as well for ridding the world of a bloodsucking fiend like you. That's quite a bargain, you know."
The thug clearly had more to say, but right then the hooded man raised his head and looked straight into his eyes. The thug was mesmerized by those old, tired eyes that seemed to pierce his soul. The man whispered a few words and suddenly the leader of this unfortunate group turned around and plunged his knife right into the belly of his comrade. The third thief shouted as his friend fell on the ground, but his cry was put to an abrupt stop by a knife that stuck out of his throat.
As the last of the thugs tried to understand what just happened, the mysterious man approached him, held him by the shoulders and looked deep into his eyes, whispering something to his would-be dispatcher. As the man finished his sentence, the thug turned around and ran in an unknown direction.
The man knelled down before his attackers and spoke softly as he removed their purses:
"Silly morhtals, I have been prhosecuted most of my life... which lasted much longerh than all of yourhs combined. You did not honestly think that you could brhing down Joseph Steinman? Yourh frhiend had no idea how close he was to the trhhuth when he called me a bloodsucking fiend. Howeverh, have no fearh, I will not drhink yourhs. Someone in my position can not afforhd angerhing the Camarhilla. Yourh bodies will be found by the local guarhds and yourh now half-crhazed frhiend will be blamed forh rhobbing you." The man stood up and looked again at the lifeless bodies before him, "And yet, it is best forh me not to rhemain herhe any longerh. It is time forh me to leave... yet again."
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DON'T BE A NOOB, JOIN A.D.V.E.N.T.U.R.E.
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Mytical
Responsible
Undefeatable Hero
Chaos seeking Harmony
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posted March 08, 2009 06:52 AM |
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Edited by Mytical at 10:01, 08 Mar 2009.
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Somewhere in Spain.
The shadows carressed the lone figure almost like lovers. He heard the rustling of the two figures tossing and turning under the expensive silk sheets, as if caught in fevered dreams. They would not wake for some time, and by then he would be long gone. For such as he, it was best to snack and run, but he still enjoyed some of the mortal sensations.
Ensuring that they would forget about his presence, he strode through his house until he reached one of his servants rooms. He did not even have to knock, as soon as he reached the door it opened revealing a woman wearing a silk robe. "See to it our guests are taken care of, and Lilah..I don't mean killed. I had a lot of explaining to do the last time."
"Yes sir." Lilah looked sheepish. She knew he knew that she was very jealous of his .. sport. Unlike the others, however, he didn't have her 'taken care of'.
"Dear Lilah, you know you will always come first. You have nothing to fear from such as them. They are snacks, nothing more." he chided.
"I know. I just hate seeing you with them.." she hung her head. She knew what he was, she was his ghoul after all, but she didn't have to like it.
"Get some rest, they can wait till the morning. Give them a good story, some money, and send them away. I have a meeting come first dark, make sure I am awake." he kissed her softly on the lips, then strode toward his 'other' room.
The next night he was the first to arrive at the meeting. He was also one of the 'lesser' important people there, so he watched only. "So it is true?" He could never keep names straight, but since the person was starting the meeting it would have to be a prince or other important person.
"Yes. We have lost a few recently. Somebody is hunting us, and they know who and what we are." this caused a large stir in the crowd.
"How is that possible?!"
"We don't know. They know us, but we do not know them."
"We must find out. We must act, and we must act now!" the sentiment was echoed vigourously by the crowd.
Fools thought Sabastian. They will only expose themselves and get themselves killed. He knew working in the shadows was the only way to keep alive. Perhaps he and a few of his..allies could ferret out the information before some of these idiots alerted the world to their exsistance. The meeting went back and forth most of the night, with nothing being settled. But tomorrow was a new day...
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Message received.
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Father
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posted March 09, 2009 03:58 PM |
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Edited by Father at 21:28, 19 Mar 2009.
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Unknown Location
Burnt pitch, the smell of sulfur permeate the air. It's dark here, the floor and walls are wet. Two torches burn bright and close, set into sconces driven into the rock.
A lone figure, half broken and beat lay strewn on his back. All but naked, save for a primal cloth draped over his loins. Bulging well defined muscles ripple over his well toned body. Iron shackles, cold and unforgiving clamped around his ankles, wrists and neck. Chains lead from each shackle to opposing points in the rock walls around him, clearly lit by the torches. There is little play or slack in the chains, just enough to allow him to sit if he were able.
--Hushed voices, at first two, no, no there are more, perhaps a dozen. The man's eyes blink open to a blurry stupor. Caked in ichor, he needs to wipe them clean but dares not move. A bright yellow glow, and that smell. Torches, of course and he is in a cave, he could recognize the feel and scent anywhere, but how?--
--A quick nervous voice breaks the hushed tones of the others--
"Look, he wakes!"
--Several feet shuffle closer to the prone and shackled figure. This time it is a different voice that speaks. Deeper, darker, heavier...--
"Boy."
--The prisoner lay motionless, trying in vain to bring the ceiling of the cave into focus. Eyes stinging, chest rising and falling. & then he thinks to himself, "why am I pretending to breath, indeed why do I feel the need to?" The prisoner continues to lay motionless, after all, the pain was real enough.--
"I said, Boy!" --the heavy set voice shattered the still quiet--
"I will ask you one more time before I set my men on you again. Who are you and what clan do you belong to!?"
The words registered well enough in the prisoner's mind. A simple set of questions really. Why hadn't he answered them already? He thought to himself. Silly really, to go through all this abuse if he was only asking the most basic of queries.
--He turns his head toward the speaker ever so slowly under the unforgiving mass of the very wide neck shackle. The grind and crunch of the chains echoed in the cave as his body convulsed in objection to the movement.--
"I am known by...." --his voice rough and raspy. A look of shock and confusion dominates is countenance-- He could not clearly see the figure before him, although he could surmise that he was massive.
'Wait, I...., I have no idea who I am, who you are or what it is I'm doing here."
It was then that the dark feelings rose within him. Not fear, but rage. He felt as though his insides would burst. He strained against the shackles in vain. The cold iron cutting deeper into his flesh.
"Very well boy, play your games" --the voice continued-- "I'm quite certain given more time you will eventually come around. All pups eventually tuck tail!"
The lonely prisoner slumped under the combined weight of shackles, chains and pain. His skin felt cold and pickled, laying in the damp cave. He continued to breath heavily, though he didn't know why. The foot steps walked away, carrying with them more hurried whispers.
Vicious words such as Kindred, Masquerade and Gangrels hung heavily in the air, and stuck in his mind. One thing was certain however, he better come up with a good story for the large dark man. Because in fact, he was playing no games....
He had no idea who or what he was, only that he was hungry....no, it was thirst. Very, very thirsty....
His eyes popped open wide then as he howled with rage! The hushed whispers and foot steps grew silent. The torches flickered and whipped as though a gust of wind blew through the cave. Soon, the footsteps trailed off. A quiet drip could be counted from somewhere in a dark corner of the cave. Cold iron chains would grind under the slightest of movements. A lone prisoner, of both mind and body lay bound and fuming in his rage....
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Once Bitten,
Twice shy,
Be careful,
This one has sharp teeth.
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baklava
Honorable
Legendary Hero
Mostly harmless
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posted March 16, 2009 12:03 AM |
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The halls of time echoed with screams of the dying. Christians and Muslims; heroes and villains; men and horses… With a thirsty blade leading your hand and forced bloodlust clouding your mind, you can see no difference. He could see it now as clearly as any other night… His Turkish overlords yelling and roaring, his heart beating wildly in a whirlwind of rage and hate, his men slaughtering and dying for the bonds of loyalty and ambitions of their conquerors. To think he was forced to enter this vassalage to protect his people… how ironic. How hypocritical. How painful.
Ah… the pain. The pain he felt, as he was knocked off his horse, stomped upon and stabbed through the chest with cold steel; not by an infidel, not by a true enemy, but by a fellow Christian, a Wallachian, merely battling for freedom from the Turkish invaders… The invaders he served…
The memories, in that final moment, just seemed to fly back into his mind, all at once. Excruciating thoughts of courage, valour, liberty… The image of his father falling in battle against the Turks, years ago, just like he now fell fighting on their side… It seemed so horrifying and eternal, that moment – that single moment of agony and fiery truth…
And the bite that pulled him back to life.
These cursed, undead creatures, these… vampires. They had embraced him, made him one of their own. They knew him; even in his life, they traced his every move, these officials of the… “Camarilla”. They had waited for a perfect moment, and then “saved” him – if it can be called that way. Pulled him back to this hideous masquerade they call “immortality”, offered him a chance for revenge, a neverending, undying vengeance against all those that enslaved his people, and who now thought him dead.
It was an offer he could not refuse.
His courage, honour and zeal made him one of the more respected of this clan that embraced him… The Brujah. And not only among them; but among all the children of the night – both of the Camarilla and the Sabbat. Even the common humans, mortal peasants of the conquered Slavic peoples, started singing songs and telling stories of his deeds and bravery, although he did his best to hide himself from the curious eyes of the people – Prince Marko, the bane of the Turks. Luckily, the nobles and those in power dismissed these as nothing but ramblings among the peasantry. In this world of darkness, Marko tirelessly carved his destiny; his influence and respect among other Kindred kept him protected as he slew countless Turks and their minions, in his vigilante quest for justice. After all, that is why they embraced him. The Camarilla didn’t want the Turks pushing further into Europe; and so they took measures to weaken them as much as they can. Sometimes subtly, and sometimes… in more direct ways.
And this Sabbat… The plague that turned the already pitiful lives of his people dwelling in the countryside into a living nightmare. He couldn’t stand them. The Camarilla at least had some restraints, but these raging bloodsuckers caused contempt and hatred within him that rivaled his feelings toward the Turks. And they had the nerve to claim the Balkans as their own!
He was a pawn yet again, just like when he was alive - he was aware of that. The Camarilla used him for its own goals, and he harboured no illusions of liberty and freedom of any kind. But that didn’t stop him from fighting for it. That seemed one of the reasons why it was the Brujah clan that embraced him.
“You are lost in your thoughts again, Marko.”
A tall, elegant young woman, dressed in a long, white robe, with hair the colour of chestnut elegantly covering her back like a cape, approached him. She seemingly snapped him out of his thinking, and he was again aware that he was standing on a grassy clearing in a forest, patting his faithful blood-bound steed Sharats and awaiting her.
Her. All his bravery and valour aside, she was one of the main reasons he did so well as a combatant and a survivor in these nights. The forests of Bulgaria, Macedonia and Serbia were always home to mystical beings; many of whom died out in time, but some of which, such as the Fae, still remaining. Only several nights after he was embraced, he gained that knowledge – for this Changeling woman, Ravioila, suddenly showed herself to him while he was prowling the woods one unusually bright evening. He could still hear her whispers that night, when she admitted that she had been following him closely throughout his life, and that she had felt something about him ever since she first saw him during one of his travels. ‘You are a child of the darkness now,’ she said, ‘but so are we all, in a way. I am grateful that you have become what you are; otherwise you would never have understood what I truly am.’ Ever since, he traveled through the forests as much as he could, in hopes of meeting her – and she was always there, he knew it. The single dot of light and peace in his unlife brimming with bloodshed… She watched over him and protected him, even though she rarely allowed herself to leave the woods.
Most vampires claimed that the undead can not feel love. But, Marko thought, they could at least remember it.
“Is it the past again?” she asked.
“It is always the past,” Marko answered.
She approached him and put her arms around his neck.
“Eternity knows no past, Marko.”
“But death does.”
They leaned one towards another, when Sharats raised his head and hissed slightly. Ravioila suddenly stopped and turned her head to the border of the clearing.
“Someone is approaching. One of… yours.”
Having said that, she let him go and ran toward the trees.
“Ravioila, wait!” Marko whispered, but he was too late – she was already gone among the lush forests in the night. There was nothing left to do, then, but wait.
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Mytical
Responsible
Undefeatable Hero
Chaos seeking Harmony
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posted March 16, 2009 06:02 AM |
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Sabastian walked unseen through the streets of the city. Even were somebody to look directly at him, they would see nothing. The shadows embraced and protected him, as they always had and always would. Besides his own home, the shadows were the only place he felt like he belonged. Even the one who had turned him had long since turned his back on Sabastian. People feared him, even his own kind, because he had a sense of madness about him. Why else would he talk to the shadows as if they were alive?
What nobody knew was the shadows whispered back. A destination. Someplace in Hungry that he had never even heard of. He knew he would be going there after making preparations. The shadows would not tell him why. They had their reasons, they always did.
Ever since he had recieved that odd bottle of blood. He never knew who sent it, and he knew he should have never drank strange blood, but the smell had compelled him. Whatever it was, he had never felt so powerful, so vigorous, so ALIVE. It was a small price to pay to be thought mad, and to hear voices in the shadows.
Though he was not really paying attention to the world around him, something stopped him in his tracks. He was in an ally, and he smelled fear. Ahead two men stalked a third, blades glinting in the light. Muggers most likely, or assassins. Sabastian was rather hungry, so it mattered little. Though he preferred to feed off of the fairer sex, these would do.
They never really knew what hit them. One minute they were enjoying the panic on their targets face, the next their throat was being ripped out by teeth. It wasn't even a struggle, they died with a whimper. Shocked the man they had cornered was only able to mutter a "Thank you." as he skittered around Sabastian. Just as he reached the street he felt ice cold hands drag him back, he actually managed a scream before Sabastian drained him also of blood.
Sated he headed toward his abode, not an ounce of remorse or pity in his body.
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Message received.
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Lith-Maethor
Honorable
Legendary Hero
paid in Coin and Cleavage
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posted March 16, 2009 05:04 PM |
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Burg Lockenhaus, a week later
It took the two girls a few days and lots of hard work but finally the castle was clean of blood and there were no signs of the massacre that took place when the new owner showed up. That was on the surface though, the two girls knew well the horrors that took place in the castle on a nightly basis, they could hear the screams, the moans, the incantations to ancient gods, they were forced to do things no proper Christian should ever do... and worst of all, they secretly enjoyed every second of depravity.
Their Master, whom they had come to love as much as they feared, would be up soon and with him his consorts, the two fiendish women that put every man woman and child in the castle to the blade. They were not like him, that much was obvious, but they were not entirely human either. Their bodies altered, twisted and warped to suit the needs of their Master, their will bound to his, his every wish their goal in life. The girls had seen them a few times, slipping out of the castle just before dawn to do whatever was asked of them.
The girl sighed as she glanced up to the sky, she could see the gibbous moon shinning down on her, the only light she could get other than the small candle on her desk. Her gaze turned to the parchment in front of her, she narrowed her eyes trying to see better, the letters different from the ones she was taught, the language not the one her people used or any of the ones she was forced to learn as the daughter of a lord. She glanced at her trusted maid, now a fellow slave, who couldn't cry any more.. not after what their Master did to her, her lips were now fused together.
The maid was asleep on the bed, her bared back still showing the signs of last night's endeavours, one of the fiend women asked her to go to her chambers, she could not share what happened, but the girl knew, she had been there a couple of times already. She sighed again as she tried to remember happier times, when she could still answer to her name, when she was not punished for speaking a "barbaric" language, when she did not love and fear her Master. She stood after a while, starting for the door, she had to make preparations for when he would rise, lest she is punished again.
A few minutes later she would step into the master bedroom, she had heard the legends regarding such creatures, but this was nothing like it. Instead of a cold sarcophagus or rotting old coffin, her Maser preferred the large bed of her parents, with the finest sheets and covers. Only the thick layer of dirt over the floor gave any hint as to his true nature, indeed.. as he slept he looked almost like an angel - a fallen angel, she reminded herself - serene and regal, with the two fiendish women on either side of his torpid form.
"M--Master.. it is t-time"
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You are suffering from delusions of adequacy.
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baklava
Honorable
Legendary Hero
Mostly harmless
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posted March 17, 2009 12:14 PM |
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Edited by baklava at 15:33, 17 Mar 2009.
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The surroundings suddenly became as silent as an empty grave. Sharats went completely still, as he always did, out of caution - but Marko did not react. Whenever those on the top needed to contact him, this would happen. They knew he spent most of his time in or at least around a forest, and there were Kindred who knew the woods as if they were a part of their own bodies.
A treetop behind him moved quietly, and a gray figure leaped from it and onto the ground. A pair of wolf eyes glowed in the shadows of the surrounding trees, and as the figure stepped forward, moonbeams bathed his young, curly-haired face in the silver light. The man’s arms and chest were rather hairy, and his clothes worn and somewhat primitive. But, though seemingly unremarkable – aside from the eyes - there was something primal in this man, something wild and untamed.
Marko turned around slowly and, barely glancing at the being, murmurred:
“What is it now, Dragomir?”
The figure smiled. “You should have been embraced by Gangrels, Marko. The amount of time you spend in the wilderness surpasses even some of us, at times.”
“I don’t think the eyes would suit me too well… And besides, the only animal I talk to is Sharats.” Marko grinned. “But I doubt you sneaked your hide all the way here just to tell me that.”
Dragomir suddenly turned more serious. “The elders wish to see you. It is important.”
“A task?”
“You could say that.”
“Again? Bah, those ancient wretches should indeed learn to wash their dishes themselves…” Marko looked across his shoulder in the direction Ravioila vanished and sighed in a mixture of annoyance and melancholy. “Well, at least there is always some fiend to bash while doing their chores.”
Dragomir waited patiently as Marko mounted Sharats. The huge, muscular white animal indeed seemed mighty and majestic in the glowing moonlight – originally an Arabian horse, given to Marko by the Turks as a gift for his loyalty. Marko always said that Sharats became his only friend in time... Some vampires created dozens of ghouls to serve them, but Marko detested that; he needed only one, and it was his mount.
“Sharats can take us both if you want,” he said, though already knowing the answer.
“I thank you, but no,” Dragomir replied. “I think I shall walk.” Having said that, he turned around and leaped into the air, changing his body into a wolf’s in a single motion, while still above the ground. Without a moment of pause, he started to move through the woods ahead.
“Some things you can never get used to,” Marko whispered to himself and, with a goodbye thought to Ravioila, ordered Sharats to follow the wolf.
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kipshasz
Undefeatable Hero
Elvin's Darkside
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posted March 17, 2009 05:58 PM |
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Zhecpospolita, somewhere in the woods of Labanor
"You fools were giving me quite a deal of trouble lately"- Said Wulfstan to a few dying robbers.- "Attacking me at midnight is incredibly brave or incredibly foolish. Or perhaps both."
One of the robbers tried to stand up, but failed to do so, because she was almost sliced open.
"What a lovely voice you have to moan with. To bad it won't save you."
Wulfstan cleaned his blade with a silken handkerchief. His sensei Motsumoro used to say:
"Remember that a blade isn't supossed to be touched by your hand. Only the soft touch of silk may land upon this gracefull weapon"
He looked at the blade. It was shining as the moonlight deflected on it. The glow was pleasant, much more pleasant than the sun. Wulfstan put the blade back in its holder and walked away. He hated to kill when he didn't need to feed. Although he killed countless people when he lived in Japan. But those times were different. He was a mere human back then. A puppet of a selfish retard. He was amazed when Kasagiri allowed him to return home. But when he came back a terrible surprise awaited. He saw the execution of his family. The entire Von Corphen family and servants were burned as heretics. The inquisition didn't spared anyone except Mark, his butler. Even his son Ulrich, a four year old boy was devoured by the "cleansing" flame. Wulfstan still sees him screaming when he closes his eyes. That sight ignited his anger and fueled his hatred. Shortly after those events he became a Caitiff. After he dealt with his assassins, he tracked down Mark. Blinded by vengeance Wulfstan slaughtered his family and fested on their blood with Mark seeing the whole thing. After he wounded his traitor servant, he set his shack on fire and fled east to the Great Duchery of Lithuania. For the last century he was dealing with highwaymen gangs and tried to make peace with that he has become.
Wulfstan looked at the moon and chased off the bad memories.
"What a beautifull night indeed. Hope there aren't anymore pesky humans around to ruin it."- He thought -"I wouldn't want to clean my blade again. That group of idiots was quite annoying."
His thoughts carried him away for a while. A howling of a wolf brought him back.
"There is a Camarilla town nearby... Too bad i won't reach it untill sunrise. This sucks. I need to find a shelter and rest up a bit..."- He went off the road hoping to find a deep cave or at least an abandoned house with a cellar. The fight has really worn him out. And the hunger was returning to his body.
"What joy is here in this so called 'life'? To feast on blood and walk only at night..."- These melancholic thoughts sometimes attacked Wulfstan, but somehow he didn't want to walk right into a sunrise. He felt that he will take part in great events. The thrill of battle and adventure was the only two things that kept him a Nightborn as Wulfstal liked to call himself. Drowned in his thoughts he walked around the woods. Finnally he stumbled upon a cave.
"Lets hope that this cave i bear free"- Ironically thought Wulfstan as he entered the cave. A soothing chill surounded him as he wentured deeper and deeper into the cave. After an hour of walking he entered a small 'hall' full of stalagmites.
"This should be deep enough"- thought Wulfstan as he layed down to sleep.
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"Kip is the Gavin McInnes of HC" - Salamandre
"Ashan to the Trashcan", "I got PTSD from H7. " - LizardWarrior
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Father
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posted March 19, 2009 07:36 PM |
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Darkness, beautiful and cold. Wind, biting in flight. Mist, low and light, it's tendrils winding and dancing through the undergrowth. Running, at first slow then fast. Not fast enough, must go faster! The others, where are the others!? Thud, thud, thud, thud, what is this beating? Trees flash by in blurs of gray and brown. --The scent, I can smell it! The rage, the hunger, the thirst, I must... The scene slowly starts to dissipate. The trees draw back, the mist lifts and begins to swirl. "No, I must know!" -- "just found out what?" Wait, what? --slowly stirs in a confused stupor--
The bound figure struggles against the chains. His eyes peel back in a scowl as they squint against the light. He then realizes he is just waking up. Two figures stand just beyond the light. "Why can I see and hear them so clearly?" he thinks to himself.. and listens.. The small man was dressed in nothing more than a peasants garb. Drab clothing for a drab and nervous man. The larger man, however, looked quite another site. Black flowing robes hemmed in intricate silver patterns. A hood pulled over his head and hung slightly forward, hiding most of his face. Well worked leather huntsman boots could be seen from time to time and his hands were the size of dinner plates. Pale, his skin was too pale but blood pumped through them for sure. He could smell it. His height was another matter all together. He must have stood over eight feet high!
"How long has he been like this?" --I listen to the big man ask the small one--
"The fits and sweats have been happening all week." The smaller man pipes up in a nervous squeak. "But this (he gestures towards me & I quickly shut my eyes) just happened. I requested your presence immediately after I found out."
"Oh look!, he changes even now as we speak". The small voice excitedly fills the cave. & it was at that exact moment that I was just stretching, trying to feign nothing more than moving around in one's sleep. I opened my eyes just slightly but my sight was not as clear as it was just a moment ago. However the larger man stepped closer and into the light of the torches just about ten feet away.
"Amazing. Our Patron had said it would be like this, and it appears she was correct. It also appears that I was correct as well. Leave me now. This one and I must talk." The larger man concluded as he gestured for the other to leave. With a quick jump the other fled out of sight quickly leaving the other two alone.
Laying naked, prone and shackled I slowly worked my eyes until all came into better focus. But the light was so bright & it forced me to squint more than I cared. I go to rub them with my hands but one of the chains is caught around my leg. Their cold unforgiving reminder of my captivity is once again ground into my mind.
"It appears you got yourself a bit tangled my brother. & lost your cloth with the transformation" The larger man stepped closer and said with a cold love as he pulled back his hood. "Care for some help?"
For being so big I was surprised to see a rather clean, handsome and kind face behind the hood. Big features yes, But all carried the countenance of compassion. I didn't care...
"You would bind me and then offer your hand? No thank you, keep your distance if you value your life!" I roughly speak through clinched teeth. "Just tell me who you are, and for that matter who I am. Why am I being held here and what is the meaning of this!?"
"Yes of course you are correct, my apologies to you. I know you are very confused and disoriented but that will all pass with time we hope." The large man spoke with an extremely deep but kind voice. "I am known as Leopold. You on the other hand are not yet named. Memory has escaped you it would seem, much to your benefit or perhaps demise."
"You mean for me to believe that you don't know who I am either?" I reply in obvious anger as I try to sit up and move forward. The shackles moan in resistance.
"Your identity remains a mystery. But as to your nature, you have just confirmed my suspicions. You have been cursed with the blood of the Gangrel, but with my help we may purge you of this vile onset or at least teach you to walk in the light Brother."
"A Gangrel? What is that? Why am I bound against my will!?
Leopold gestures with his saucer sized hands. "Please Brother, keep calm. All your questions will be answered in time. I'm afraid you already met my blood brother some time last week. But don't fear, your safe now and we are here to help you. We are Hunters. Both my brother and I have been Imbued by our Patron to help your kind. More will come in time. For now just know that he and I are a balance to one another and you are under my personal care. The chains are for your personal safety as well as ours. You are sick it would seem and suffering from terrible hallucinations & dreams. We will provide for your need in the mean time, I hope it will be enough."
Leopold trailed off in thought, then turned to walk off once again pulling his hood up. "We will speak again brother, you and I"
"Wait! I have more I would ask of you! WAIT! But to no avail, Leopold walked back out of sight, his heavy foot falls thudding down the cave.
Deep within the forested mountains a pair of dark red glowing eyes glinted out from beneath the thick canopy. Fixated at the mouth of a cave, high up the mountain side. A few men stood guard, standing at the ready, fully armored and armed with long pikes. Massive dual fires roared several paces in front of the entrance. Saliva drooled out the corner of a gaping maw as the wolf growled with hatred.
After Leopold had disappeared, a lone prisoner slumped back down on his back. Holding his fists over his eyes, not caring about his discomfort or nakedness. For that matter the only thing that bothered him was being chained here. That and his incredible thirst. He needed to be away from here, and soon. Then he heard it. A lamenting howl that pierced the walls of the cave. He sat up quickly and opened his eyes wide to look around but knew he would find nothing. But the message was received. Leopold had kept calling him his "brother" but he knew that he was not his brother. His brother was out their & now he knew it. He would never let go of this one precious thought.
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Once Bitten,
Twice shy,
Be careful,
This one has sharp teeth.
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Lith-Maethor
Honorable
Legendary Hero
paid in Coin and Cleavage
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posted March 19, 2009 11:24 PM |
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Burg Lockenhaus, moments later
The two women were first to rise, silently slipping out of bed and walking towards the young girl, not bothering to hide their lithe bodies. She had seen then naked quite a few times already but her mind could still not wrap itself around the fact they were so casual about it, that was perhaps more unsettling to her by the apparent predisposition the two women had towards bloodshed and murder. One thing was certain, they were nothing like the women she knew growing up.
The two women were quite similar, both of small stature and shapely, with flawless smooth skin and well toned muscles. One of them had bright green eyes and dark red hair, cut very short with two long braids on either side reaching down to her waist, the other had black eyes and raven hair, currently loose over her form and reaching her ankles. The way they move reminded the girl of a rather exotic large cat she had seen one, predatory and graceful, deadly in a seductive way.
About as impressive to the girl, were the strange markings on the two women, tattoos a more knowledgeable person would say. The readhead had tribal markings over her left arm and shoulder, as well as a stylised raven in flight over her back. The other one had similar markings over her right arm and a phoenix in flight on her back. The ouroboros of Clan Tzimisce over each woman's heart, making their allegiance clear for anyone in the know.
The girl swallowed as she watched the women, glancing at their Master, secretly hoping he would wake up soon, they scared her on a far more basic level, she was afraid of becoming like them. It wasn't long before he stirred, opening his eyes and glancing around, unlike the two women he took his time getting out of bed. He glanced at the girl and smirked, moving towards the door as the redhead carried his robe to him, helping him dress on the way out with the raven haired woman.
"yes... it is time, the clouds are gathering, the storm is coming"
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You are suffering from delusions of adequacy.
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Berny-Mac
Promising
Legendary Hero
Lord Vader
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posted March 20, 2009 01:26 AM |
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Agrelius Montressi: part one
Agrelius Montressi was born to a wealthy merchant family, but when he was only 12, all of his family were brutally murdered by Sabbat vampires. Everyone knew it was them by their bloody trademark stained upon the walls of the Montressi Manor. Since then, Agrelius was sent to live with one of his father's friends, Valero Comorratti.
After 8 long years of working in Comorratti's winefields, Agrelius ran away from the forceful master and found work as a sailor. However, on one of his voyages to Greece, the ship was destroyed by a storm. All of the people on board died, except for Agrelius. His barely living body floated to the shores of Sparta where Theofilos Begamos, a poor fisherman, found him and took care of him. Agrelius lived with him, knowing he no where else to go, for 5 years. Then suddenly, while he was out, Theo's hut was destroyed along with the poor fisherman. When Agrelius came back, there was nothing left for him, just the trademark of the Sabbat clan. He found some food and coins in the rubble and proceeded to go look for another life, and vengeance against the Sabbat clan...
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Somewhere in the Peloponnese Peninsula, Greece.
Agrelius was walking down the road towards the city of Sparta where he hoped to find another life. However, he can't shake the feeling that he was being hunted, but yet surviving throughout all attempts to take his sad life. He heard stories of the creatures of the night and their bloody rituals from other sailors back in the days when he worked on sea vessels. He never believed them, but after the incident at the ravaged hut, these superstitions seem to be coming to life.
Agrelius noticed that nighttime was coming and decided that he needed to find shelter as soon as possible lest he suffer at the hands of the wild brigands roaming the hills he wandered. Soon enough, he saw a sign along the road pointing to a hostel nearby. Agrelius thought that perhaps while he was there he could try to see if another chance at another life was possible there.
Once Agrelius arrived at the inn, night had already fallen. After Agrelius knocked upon the wooden door, it opened revealing a charming young girl with a bright smile.
"Come right in, sir" said the dark haired girl in a sweet voice. "I am Sevasti, my father, who is the owner, is right there"
Agrelius did as she said and walked over to a rather rotund man with a glass of wine. Having learned Greek from the sailors and Theo talking to him would be little problem.
"Hello, is there any room for me here?", spoke Agrelius with his rather well pronounced Greek.
The man smiled and said, "Yes, of course there is. In fact, you are the only customer we have today. It will cost a little bit of money, but my policy is that customers pay only after they have stayed, if they have enjoyed the night here of course. Anyways, yeah, Sevasti will show you to your room. For an extra bit of money, you can have dinner with us."
He took a long look at Agrelius and then said, "Nevermind, you look like you've been in a famine, were you've come from. In fact, you may have dinner with us for free. I insist it. I will not have my customers in this condition! Sevasti, see if you can get him cleaned up, then have him down here for dinner in an hour or so."
"Yes, papa." said Sevasti as she took Agrelius's hand and led him up a staircase towards a big metal tub.
"Undress, I'll get the water and have the furnaces going." said Sevasti as she went downstairs.
Agrelius stood there, stunned at his great fortune, for about five seconds until he started undressing. A little bit later, Sevasti came up the stairs with two big pails of water.
"AHHH!" went Agrelius, trying to hide his private parts with some clothes.
"Oh! Sorry!" apologized Sevasti, "Sorry, I'm just so used to guests not caring much about their nudity. I'll just go this way..."
Sevasti turned around and walked sideways towards the tub and poured the water inside.
"No, It is I who should be sorry." admitted Agrelius,"I was raised in Italy, so I am accustomed with the sort o behavior I exemplified. Uhhh...it's okay...you can...look..."
Agrelius removed the clothing covering his privates and grimaced slightly while Sevasti laughed and went downstairs to feed the furnaces that heat the tub.
About a minute later, Sevasti came back upstairs with some soap and a towel.
"I'm sure it's warm enough, you can go in now." said Sevasti as Agrelius tested the water with his hand. Then Agrelius entered the tub and slouched within and rested.
Sevasti smiled and then let an "Oh!". She picked up the soap and went towards Agrelius saying, "I'm going to have to wash you now. Papa doesn't like grime at the dinner table. Besides, we don't have that much time to clean you up."
Within the next 20 minutes Sevasti cleaned Agrelius all over with her delicate hands with many "Ow!"'s and "Not here!"'s issuing from Agrelius as the dirt was scrubbed away.
10 minutes later, Sevasti pulled Agrelius out from the tub and gave him a towel to dry himself with. Sevasti let him dry himself with the towel as she proceeded to place his belongings in his room.
A couple minutes later she came out with fresh new clothes for Agrelius and placed them next to him. He finished drying himself and quickly donned the clothes. Then, he followed Sevasti downstairs to the dinner table where four other people were assembled.
Sevasti's father rose from his chair and said, "Welcome, friend! Sit down here next to me. I do like to hear tales from people of their travels. I'm sure yours would be a delight to us all."
"No, it wouldn't." said Agrelius as he sat next to the man.
"What is wrong? Is it of such boring material that we would all fall asleep where we sit or is it so horrible that we would gag on our food and vomit all over the table?" asked the man.
"Dion! Don't talk of such things as we eat!" said a stern looking woman which Agrelius presumed to be Sevasti's mother. "Sorry about that." said the woman to Agrelius, "My husband, Dion, is a sweet man, but he speaks without thinking many times. I am Sevasti's mother, Fotini. Now you've already met our daughter, Sevasti." said Fotini as she motioned her hand towards Sevasti.
"But these two, Agape and Alcander, you have not met them before. Be glad that you haven't. These are two rascals to fear." said Fotini as she pointed at two young grinning children.
"Ahem!" went Dion and he said, "Now that we are done with the lecture, let us start the prayer. Agrelius, you believe in God, do you not?"
Agrelius nodded as everybody clasped their hands together.
"Okay, then you may say the prayer." said Dion.
"Alighty then..." murmured Agrelius as he put his hands together and said, "Our father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name, thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven, give us, this day, our daily bread, and forgive us of our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us, and lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. Amen..."
The Greek family stared at him. Then Dion broke the silence by saying, "Are you Catholic?"
"Yes" replied Agrelius.
"Ah, that explains it. Well, we are Greek Orthodox, and well... our customs are different than that of our Italian cousins..." said Fotini.
"Sorry." apologized Agrelius.
"No, no, no! There's no need to be sorry! It's quite alright. After all, we all worship the same god." exclaimed Dion.
"Well, my faith has been shaken quite a bit these last few years..." said Agrelius.
"What happened?" asked Sevasti.
Agrelius sighed and said, "There's no need to ruin a dinner."
"Alright then, if it is that bad, then perhaps we shouldn't intrude upon your history." said Fotini understandingly.
"Ahem! Well...lets eat..." said Dion hungrily.
The dinner prepared by Fotini was delicious to Agrelius's taste buds. Much friendly talk was shared by all people at the table. According to Fotini, her children, save for Sevasti, were usually more raucous a these times, but they were quiet to Agrelius's ears.
When they have finished eating the main meal, Fotini went into the back while the others chattered. Soon enough, she came out with a plate of hot, very delicious looking desserts.
"Have you ever tried baklava, Agrelius?" asked Sevasti.
Agrelius shook his head and helped himself to a piece. Everyone else ate the Greek dessert with gusto as well.
Soon after, everyone's bellies were full and they slumped around the table talking of many things. However, Dion said, "We all should get to bed quite soon." So everyone followed his ordain and cleaned the table then got ready for bed.
Sevasti, however, led Agrelius to his room and said goodnight to him.
As Agrelius was lying in the comfortable bed, he was thinking of how he hasn't been treated this well in many years and that he wished to stay here instead of searching for the answer he so desperately sought: Why was he being hunted?
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Skyrim RP? YES!
Here it is!
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kipshasz
Undefeatable Hero
Elvin's Darkside
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posted March 20, 2009 04:03 PM |
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Wulfstan entered the town. To keep his head clear and sober he had to kill a tauros and suck it dry of blood. Although it tasted awfull, but atleast it sustained his hunger for a while.
The Camarilla have recently took control of this town, so it's still full of humans. Two townsfolk passed by Wulfstan. A sweaty stench of unwashed bodies reached his nose. Fools. The church says that staying filthy keeps you away from sin. And when an epidemy errupts they're saying that its the people's fault for being sinfull. Or blames it on jews. Europeans bathed very rarely, twice or trice a year. Wulfstan despised the priests for saying such nonsense. His eyes were opened when he was released from prison. He realised that the church and the inquisition are wrong. Those shortsighted lapdogs of the pope had no honor nor clear minds. He was sick of the filth in Europe's towns. He often dreamed about getting back to Japan. Away from the church and this pestilent mess in every single town.
- Lord Wulfstan?- a calm voice asked and pulled away Wulfstan from his thoughts.
- I don't know if I'm much of a lord, Andrew.
- Prince Herkus wants to see you now. He said it's urgent.
- What is it now?
- I don't know sir.
- Fine then. Lead on.
He followed the boy. Andrew was recently embraced teenager by the local Brujah prince Herkus. Full of determination and youthfull energy. He reminds Wulfstan when he was his age.
" I wander why does the prince needs my assistance. Again. It looks like that he doesn't have, or better yet doesn't want to send his people right into the jaws of danger"- thought Wulfstan as he aproached the town hall. As he climbed to the prince's chambers he was wondering what awaited him. He kick opened the door. Wulfstan wasn't a very patient person.
- Aaah... Lord Wulfstan. Always entering with a blast. Vine?
- Yes please. And drop that 'lord' bull$%&#. I've relinquished that title long ago.
- Living with the devils of the east wasn't a vise choice my friend- said a cloaked figure with a shiftly look in his eyes. Wulfstan sat down and took the glass.
- Count Vaishvilk. Why am i not surprised?
- We haven't invited you just for you amusement Nomad.- said a young looking woman. Her figure was slim and tempting, but her eyes burned with wisdom.
- Baroness Ruth. A pleasure to see you again.
- Right. Let's get back to business. Wulfstan, you've been invited here to perform a special task.
- For the first time...- sarcasticly said Wulfstan. Ruth's lips remained serious, but her eyes laughed. Vaishvilk gigled.
- Please skip your jokes Wulfstan. This is a serious matter.
- Continue.
- There's a priest vampire hunter in Trakai. We want you to take him out.
- A vampire hunter? Here?
- Yes. He's giving us some trouble lately.
- And you cannot deal with him because..?
- Our resources are small, and you are the only one whom we can count on.
- Sure... Ok, I'll do this. Till we meet again.- Wulfstan walked out.
" This is... Disturbing. I need to get away from here. Krakow will do. For now"
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"Kip is the Gavin McInnes of HC" - Salamandre
"Ashan to the Trashcan", "I got PTSD from H7. " - LizardWarrior
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baklava
Honorable
Legendary Hero
Mostly harmless
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posted March 20, 2009 06:05 PM |
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Edited by baklava at 18:10, 20 Mar 2009.
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***
Wolves howled in the hills surrounding the road, somewhat covering the sounds of ripping skin and agonizing moaning emanating from within the carriage passing by. The carriage was pulled by four identical, black horses, and the man driving it was clad in chainmail crimson with rust, his hands covered with spiked gauntlets and his skinless remains of a face half-hidden beneath a heavy hood. Mihnea would not allow his servants to have faces; they were mere figures, puppets moving to his strings, and he wanted to make sure that is clear enough.
A rider, his back covered with a dark, gray cape, caught up with the carriage and knocked on its window, its insides covered with an eerily green curtain.
Suddenly, the carriage slowed down, and the curtains opened, revealing its contents. Screams got appropriately louder as the rider gazed inside; and rapidly turned his head away from the sight. No one, immortal or not, no one should ever be forced to see such scenes. A quick, sharp word was heard – “Silence!”. And the screaming indeed stopped.
Voivod Mihnea, blood dripping from his fangs, leaned forward, making himself visible to the person outside.
“Voice strings… the most melodic of all the instruments, they say. Would you not agree?”
He made a short pause to glance at the horseman, and then said:
“Look at me, rider.”
The cloaked man turned its eyes toward the voivod. His majesty was not in the least tarnished by the gruesomeness behind him; in fact, it just seemed to enhance it, in a sickening, mind-flaying manner.
“There is no remorse to be had toward lesser creatures. They are but tools of our ambition and pleasure. Such is the way of the Sabbat, and such is the true way of our Kin. If you can not cope with our path, newborn, perhaps you are unworthy of your memberhood in our society. And perhaps you are to return to the Camarilla... what’s left of you, of course.”
“I… I apologize, lord Mihnea,” the rider replied. “I had no intention to offend or break our code.” It was increasingly hard to bear the look of the voivod’s flesh-carved minstrel, silently creeping around the insides of the carriage.
“I will not lose any more time by engaging in excessive conversation with a messenger. Speak, what news do you carry?”
“Word has been sent. Very soon, available Sabbat will flock to our strongholds in Wallachia. Some are already on their way.”
“Thankfully. I grow tired of the company of messengers and mute drivers. And the bishops?”
“They… have, after some thought, expressed desire of remaining in Hungary for the time being, before returning to the homeland,” the messenger answered slowly.
Mihnea frowned.
“Cowards. Or schemers… Or both. Dangerous, whatever the case. As they sit around in their comfy chairs, feeding on their servants, Dracula keeps on spreading his dominion over our lands.”
The messenger could not hold back his curiosity.
“I have heard of this Dracula, sire… And also that you have encountered him yourself...” he said, avoiding to stare at Mihnea’s scar. “Is he… indeed as dangerous as the stories portray him?”
Mihnea pushed his hand through the window of the moving carriage and pointed at the horizon.
“Do you see that forest ahead, neonate?”
The gray-cloaked man glanced at it from the misty distance.
“Yes, my lord?”
“That is not a forest.”
The vampire rider looked closer and felt his jaws were numb. Thousands of figures – from Turkish soldiers to Tzimisce ghouls – lay impaled upon countless sharpened, wooden stakes. Ravens made their nests in the rotting chests of decaying corpses, flies were massing in clouds, the road leading through the forest of spikes was surrounded by the shadows of the slaughtered, and covered with the perpetual stench of death.
Mihnea grinned at the stunned messenger.
“Welcome to Wallachia.”
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Mytical
Responsible
Undefeatable Hero
Chaos seeking Harmony
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posted March 22, 2009 06:51 AM |
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The carriage had been specially made. It was a rather long trip to where he was going, and there was no guarantee of finding shelter every sunup. "Lilah dear, I will be gone for some time. Please make sure that all my affairs are kept in order. I am not exactly sure where I am going, or when I will return."
"Yes Sire." she hated to see him depart, and feared for his safety. Though things like knives and swords held little danger for him, a stray shaft of sunlight would be his undoing.
He had spent a week prepairing the journey, the path laid down to the smallest detail. Though he didn't know where in Hungary he was going, he was confident the voices would tell him once there. Of course he also questioned the sanity of listening to voices in his head, but he could no more deny them then his snaks could deny him.
On last kiss for Lilah, then he departed. He wanted to get as far as he could before daybreak. His personal guards and driver would take over just before that, but he preferred to rely on himself whenever possible. They would ride in the coach until he needed the shelter. Along with his..emergency provisions. That thought made him smile a toothy grin.
It was a long boring ride, absolutely nothing happened. He reached the outskirts of Hungary without incident. Just a few hours before nightfall, then he could explore and find out what he could.
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Message received.
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kipshasz
Undefeatable Hero
Elvin's Darkside
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posted March 22, 2009 12:25 PM |
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Outskirts of the town of Kernava, few days later
A wolf howled nearby, and Wulfstan lifted up his head. The night was clear, without a cloud in the sky and the sicle of the moon was shining brightly. The moonlight landed on three castles surounding the town. A chilly breeze roamed the empty streets. The only alive place seemed to be the tavern, from where laughter and pervy songs were heard. Wulfstan cared little for the local drunkards, as his goal was to remain silent and unknown. Herkus was a fool to think that Wulfstan would rush right into his trap. This so called 'prince' still needed to learn a lot. He wandered what roles Vaishvilk and Ruth played in this. With the head full of doubts again, he stalked the woods. Near the road he saw a carriage with Malinausk family crest. So they were searching for him. Wulfstan drew out his blade and sneaked up to the carriage. A cloaked figure was standing near it.
- Wulfstan..?- she whispered.- Wulfstan, I'm not here to fight. We need to talk.
- Why should i believe you, Ruth?- he gripped his blade harder as he aproached her.
- He forced me. Herkus has gone mad. He killed Vaishvilk right after you left. He's with... Sabbat.
Wulfstan noticed tears on her face. This Toreador woman always ignited passion within him, and now she was pleading for his help.
- Allright Ruth. So, our Herkus joined forces with Sabbat? I know that Brujah were headstrong anarchists, but THIS? This is more disturbing than i thought... Where are you heading to now?
- I don't know. Somewhere where is safe i guess- her voice was a bit shaky.- I can help you get where you need.
- Allright. Let's get going.
They entered the carriage. It was built for luxury and comfort. Ruth sat down right next to Wulfstan and put her head on his shoulder. Her deep blue eyes were full of sorrow. Things must be bad if she fled with nothing but clothes on her back.
"Whatever the reason, Herkus will pay. Betraying the Camarilla is more than stupid. I wonder how many he killed by now..."- Thought Wulfstan as the carriage took the road to the west.
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"Kip is the Gavin McInnes of HC" - Salamandre
"Ashan to the Trashcan", "I got PTSD from H7. " - LizardWarrior
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Geny
Responsible
Undefeatable Hero
What if Elvin was female?
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posted March 24, 2009 09:31 PM |
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Sound of pounding hooves echoed in the night as a lonely rider made his way across the country. His steed ran as fast as he could, he could not wait to get rid of that unnatural creature on his back and the only way to do it was to get him to his destination. Little did he know that at the end of this trip he would become a much awaited lunch for his rider.
Joseph Steinman sunk deep into his thoughts. It was improbable that the authorities in Krakow paid to much attention to a couple of dead thieves, but he did not stick around to find out. And so he was making his way south for two nights now. It wasn't easy finding shelter before the day breaks, but Joseph was used to living on the run and knew exactly how to survive out there.
Joseph looked at his steed - a living creature made of flesh and blood, it was surely afraid of him, but dared not defy his will. Most kindred had ghouls to carry them and help in any way, but not Joseph, he was different... as usual, as he had been from the moment he was born. A Jew, hated and hunted by his own townsfolk he could not find peace even as a child. As the years passed by he became alienated, surviving only thanks to his sharp wit. He got used to his strange, twisted life and was sure that life holds no more surprises for him, until one day...
A feeling of hostility interrupted his train of thought. He looked around looking for the source of the hostile aura. There it was: a feline predator lying in ambush for its lonely target. A sarcastic grin arose on Joseph's face, even animals wanted to kill him, but at least animals were smart enough not to try it when they felt who he really is. Joseph looked at the sky, the moon was setting, it was time to find shelter. He checked his surroundings and remembering that there should be a cave not far from here lead his steed in the right directions.
Soon he was already safe inside the darkness of a deep cave. His steed was tied some to a tree some distance from it, so it wouldn't draw attention to his resting place. Joseph lay down and relaxed. As he was waiting for the torpor to come and embrace him he remembered that day, the day that changed him forever.
He just got away from an angry mob that came to his house yet again, to find him gone yet again. He could not longer stay in this town as well, but he did not mind: at least he managed to get some profit from those simpletons. As he was sneaking out of town under the cover of the night a figure stood before him. A noble, judging by his dressing. He said something about Joseph proving useful and then... the memories blurred. Even after all he's been through, Joseph was certain that he did not want to remember that moment of his life - the last moment of his life.
When he came back to it, he was alone again. New sensations filled his body, strange and unnatural. He felt a sharp pain and found two tiny punctures on his neck. Luckily for him, he heard some rumors about vampires before and understood what happened to him and what he should be afraid of. He learned to avoid open flames and sunlight, for some time he even avoided garlic just to be safe. He learned later that even as a kindred he was an outcast - a clanless vampire, unwanted and despised by others.
But he continued his bleak existence that lasted for more than one century and all the trials he had to endure did not break him, on the contrary they made him stronger, and he would get stronger still. Every step he made, every turn of the road that was his life only made him tougher and wiser. And now that road was leading him to Hungary.
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DON'T BE A NOOB, JOIN A.D.V.E.N.T.U.R.E.
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Berny-Mac
Promising
Legendary Hero
Lord Vader
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posted March 26, 2009 12:22 AM |
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Agrelius woke to the sounds of the chirping of birds. He got out of his comfortable bed and donned his clothes. He walked downstairs to find the entire family already down there doing various activities and chores. Sevasti then walked up to him with a plate of food.
"You missed breakfast, Agrelius. So I saved some food for you." she said.
"Thank you, Sevasti." said Agrelius gratefully as he took the food to a nearby table and started eating it.
After finishing it, he walked over to Fotini who was reading a book in a chair.
"Excuse me?" said Agrelius humbly.
"Yes, Agrelius, how may I help you?" replied Fotini kindly.
"Could you please tell me where Dion is?"
"Ah, yes. He is outside with Alcander doing...well...I don't know. But he is outside, I know that."
"Okay, thank you, Fotini" said Agrelius thankfully as Fotini replied with a "It is no problem dear."
Once Agrelius went outside he was greeted by Dion's and Alcander's voices. He tracked the voices to an outside clearing where Dion and Alcander were cheering over a fallen deer that apparently has been shot with an arrow.
"Good shot, Alcander! This ought to feed us for at least another couple of months!" shouted Dion happily scaring all of the birds away.
"Thanks, dad!" replied Alcander excitedly as he pulled out his skinning knife.
Agrelius stepped into the clearing and Dion quickly noticed him.
"Agrelius! How was your night with us?" asked Dion cheerfully.
"It was splendid, sir." replied Agrelius politely.
"Enough of the 'sir' stuff. I'm just Dion. Now I'm sure you have something to say."
"Yes, I do, sir-I mean Dion. Well, Dion...I am lost in this world."
"What do you mean?" asked Dion as he furrowed his brow.
"I don't have a home and was just wondering... well, I don't want to force you, but-" replied Agrelius nervously.
"You wish to stay with us?"
"Well... yes. This is the first place in a long time that I have ever been treated so well and I was searching for a home and well..."
"I don't know, my boy..Our purpose is to treat people this well, but to let them live here...I don't really think we can do that, Agrelius."
Agrelius looked crestfallen. A small bit of tears came out from both eyes, then he said, "I understand, how much do I have to pay you?"
Dion looked very sorry, but he hardened himself up and said, "Only three bronze coins. Look lad, I'm really sorry for this...perhaps we can give you some for the road or something. Don't think we don't care. Because, we do care about you."
Agrelius wiped the tears off his face and said, "It's alright, I may have endangered you all anyways."
"What do you mean?"
"I...I seem to have been hunted by someone, or something...It's hard to explain..."
Dion's eyes grew wide and he said, "If that is so, then you must go quickly. I already fear for the survival of my family. For the Ottoman Empire is not kind with us and will take us all if we are found."
"No, these are not Ottomans, they are something more...savage. I have not seen them, but I have seen their mark. A bloody symbol, nothing the Ottomans would do."
"My sense of reasoning doesn't make this story to be...believable.
Yet...I do believe you. My brother, Dmitri, died a couple of years ago. When we got his body, there was a cruel looking, bloody symbol on his pale chest. I believe you, we must go soon" said Dion worryingly.
Suddenly, there was a loud screech sounding across the land as a man's dying voice echoed throughout the forest.
Dion then said,"What was that?!", as Alcander, Agrelius, and Dion ran towards the house.
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lucky_dwarf
Promising
Supreme Hero
Visiting
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posted April 03, 2009 05:02 AM |
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Angelito trudged up the hill the moon high in the sky its rays of white light shining through the leaves of trees.
It was just too much to take in.
The hill sloped and leveled out a bit to make a wide ledge. He walked until he saw the cave that was hidden by the rushing water.
It was his favorite spot. He had no idea why he liked this place more than the warm comfortable fireside it was just simply like that.
He passed through the water into the cave ,sat down and crossed his legs. He listened to the sound of rushing water and felt calm.
It was scary. To live for ten years thinking that you are something and suddenly find out that your something else.
His "parents" had not said those precise words but he knew it was true.
The moon shined brighter now and it gave a comfort that he had never felt when with his adoptive parents.
It was the feeling that he truly belonged.
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So much has changed in my absence.
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