November 2003 - Mail Archives

Coordination and information for the various volunteers of BDI.
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Re: November 2003 - Mail Archives

Post by Jayne »

Around the Bend (Broken Vial)
Author: Jason
Date: 22 November 2003

"Menxvan!"

Karunee gave a startled jump as a rat scurried across her path, momentarily visible in light cast off by the sporadically placed street lamps, and her own lantern that danced about in her unsteady grip. By Menxvan she hated being out this late, even more so with rumored dissension among the Royal Guard. It may have just been her imagination, but she could swear that she saw fewer and fewer Guardsman patrolling their usual routes. She shivered inside her shawl as a chilling breeze crept its way over her.

She took a deep breath to recover a little bit of the composure the rat had inadvertently nibbled away at. It had been a long day, longer than she could have anticipated. Karunee would like to think of herself as a seamstress, but the reality of it was that she was nothing more than a sewing girl, stitching on beads and buttons at the real seamstress' behest. It rarely involved much effort or imagination on her part, it was tedious work at best. Especially when the requested piece is to be laden with so many beads it may well stand on its own, as was the current order. A hideous dress designed and crafted to the exacting specifications of a 'noble woman' from some foreign country, Neverheardofit, or something like that that. It had taken two long days to get as far as she had, and she still wasn't done.

She flexed the fingers of her free hand, trying to work out the sudden stiffness the frosty wind had brought to the already sore joints. Karunee stepped up her pace, walking now with a more determined stride. She'd run if not for the extreme bleakness of the night. Despite the low breeze, a thick layer of clouds clung steadfastly to the moon, obscuring its already meager glow.

She absently rakes her fingernails across the sudden flare of irritation on her cheek. The skin was slightly inflamed, a pinkish red from the attention she gave it with her nails, though the frigid night air put a ruddy color to both of her cheeks regardless. Karunee didn't know what it was, but it wasn't anything to get worried over in her opinion. Her mother was of the opinion that it came from eating too much of the spicy Xiunlan food. As a constant reminder of the turning of the seasons, another draft cut through her shawl, drawing another shiver from her.

Karunee rounded the bend in the street; this was not the most direct way home. It was not that she live far from the shop, it was just that the streets between there and her home were not always the safest, and confusing even during the day. To make matters worse, the seamstress had been chattering on all day about vampires--her sister had even seen one! Not that this stopped her from keeping Karunee working until this late hour. She wrapped her shawl tighter about her head and gave a sniff of indignation from behind it. She kept to her to circuitous route and to the comparatively well lit streets, rather than the darkened alleyways.

There was a quick gust that snapped at her bundled form. For a moment she could really feel the wind tugging at her shawl and the increasingly loud hiss of the wind as it beat against her, forcing her to take a tighter hold of the garment for fear that it might just be blown clear away. Without warning the wrapping is jerked violently back, snapping her head back, putting her off-balance in surprise and fear. Instinctively she brought both of her hands to the shawl to keep it from choking her, sending the lantern clattering to the ground. Its light is quickly snuffed out with a terrible crunch as an unseen foot smashes it and smothers the flame.

Stumbling backwards, Karunee can only helplessly watch as the street lamps wink out of existence, obscured by the buildings that form the alleyway she was now being pulled into. She felt the shawl go slack against her throat as the person that was wrenching it must have let go, but to her dismay that same person was all that had been keeping her on her feet. With the support suddenly withdrawn she trips backwards to the hard cobblestone, the air in her lungs driven away by the harsh landing.

Before Karunee had even the slimmest chance of recovery she could feel the weight of a man begin to straddle her stomach, practically sitting on her to keep her from getting up. A wave of revulsion washed over her as her thoughts raced. What is going to happen? Why me? What can I do? Did someone see? Is help coming? It was those last thoughts that she wanted the most, but they scattered as she felt her attacker's hands encircle her neck.

This sparked a visceral response in Karunee, however. Though she could not scream she began to thrash about wildly, beating her fisted hands against the man that was trying to choke her. But the man seemed to pay no mind to the flurry of blows landing on him, absorbing the woman's unpracticed and tired strikes with only a shifting of his weight to keep her from wriggling free. Then she heard a clink of glass as her foot came in contact with an object. Even though she could feel her senses starting to become fuzzy from the lack of air, she just knew that she had to somehow break that, to somehow make a noise someone else might hear. The man on top of her shifted again, almost as if he knew what she was trying to do.

Karunee didn't want to give the man a chance to stop her, and the grip around her neck assured that she would not get a second try. She lashed out with her foot, hoping to make contact with whatever that object was. But before she could bring her foot to bear against it, a hand took hold of her ankle. Another person was there. This revelation crumbled Karunee's last bit of resolve as she finally succumbed to the lack of oxygen.

-----

"About time," Saemus, the second man says, "I was afraid we were gonna have to kill her first to keep her still." He spoke with a rather disinterested voice, no real conviction in his words, just a matter-of-fact statement, almost bored.

The man who was holding Karunee down, Bor, at last released his hold on her throat, but busied himself with pulling the shawl from about her head. His only reply to the other man was a hiss. Soon he had the garment free from the tangle of Karunee's hair and pitched it away. Saemus move to kneel next to Karunee, taking her head in his hands he gently tilted it to the side to expose more of her neck, and to casually brush a stray strand of hair from her cheek.

Were anyone else to witness what was no happening, they would likely be running away as fast as they can, frightened to the core to suddenly be faced with the reality that the rumors about the vampires are true.

The man who had spoken bent down towards Karunee's neck, his mouth agape to allow him to puncture a vein with his fangs. Just as the unnaturally sharp tips of the vampire's fangs grazed the skin of her neck, drawing a minuscule bubble of blood to the surface, the vampire froze. His eyes went wide and his fingers curled up with some unseen strain.

I took only a moment for his partner to realize something was wrong, but this man for whatever reason could not find it in himself to form any words and only hissed with irritation.

Saemus suddenly jerked upright and started to rise, then promptly fell back to his knees. Saemus didn't know what was happening, he found that control of his own body was beginning to slip from his grasp. Everything just felt wrong, like his skin no longer fit. Then he began to cough, something he had not done in years since having been turned. Then the cough became dry heaves of terrible force. Had need he any use for his lungs, he would assuredly be gasping for breath by now.

Then equally without warning his lips felt slick and he realized he was no longer dry heaving, but was vomiting up volumes of a thick liquid that he knew right away to be blood. Now panic began to grip him as it had Karunee, he struggled to gain a measure of control over himself, but nothing could seem to stop the horrible retching. Though he felt things could not be worse, they quickly became so. Staring down into the darkening pool that was beginning to form around his knees he could see wet masses mingled in with the blood. Clumps too thick to be merely blood, even congealed. He clutched a hand to his throat that felt so acutely the pain of his heaving, and his fingers pressing against his own flesh revealed to him the nature of those dark bits. With each new series of coughs that wrack his body and wave of vomiting, he could feel the muscles of his throat protest against the abuse, and much to his horror, he could feel as slivers peel away in onslaught.

It was all happening too fast, he had only moments to absorb that before another disaster struck him. The texture of his skin against his fingers began to change in a way he didn't understand until he held his hand before his eyes. The skin appeared to have come loose from the bone and muscle, as if the tissue that bound it all together had dissolved. The arm he was supporting himself with nearly slid from under him as the skin on palm of his hand tore free against the rough stones.

It was just too much for Saemus to handle, his arm finally buckled and he collapsed face first against the unforgiving stone, sloughing off the skin on his cheek in the process. In the continuing chain of events, his vision become more blurry with each blink, each bat of the eyelid pulling away another thin layer of the eye. Until finally he lost all vision in his left eye that had finally given way and ruptured.

Bor fell backwards from Karunee, horrified by what he was seeing. It was inexplicable. They were vampires, this sort of thing just did not happen. The devastating deterioration of Saemus was a horrendous thing to see, and even though he retreated from it, he couldn't take his eyes from it.

Saemus bucked wildly with a convulsion, causing further damage to his already torn body. Whatever it was that struck him down had finally reached his brain. Had he the will to struggle against this anymore, he simply could not. It now twisted and contorted the vampire's body with violent efficiency, sending smatterings of blood into the air with each spasm.

Bor hid his face behind his arms as droplets of blood fell upon him, and when he lowered them again to look upon Saemus, his partner had finally become still. But his chest cavity had collapsed and it appeared as if everything inside had been liquefied, in some places bones sagged through the flimsy skin.

Bor had seen enough to know that Saemus had been destroyed, just by what he didn't know. He had also seen enough to convince him to finally run. But as he started to take off down the alleyway, he suddenly stumbled as his knee gave out, and he could tell he had torn something. With a hiss he tried to heal and rise again, but something just didn't feel right...
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Re: November 2003 - Mail Archives

Post by Jayne »

A surprisingly successful hunt.
Author: Darryl Hicks
Date: 22 November 2003


It had only been moments since the Slayer exited the BlkDragon before he heard it. Barely audible over the sound of wind whipping and cracking through the length of his greatcoat, voices reached him, muffled and unintelligible. It was obvious that there was some sort of struggle, however, and he moved toward the sounds.

As he approached, he was able to make out the words of one voice, female, crying out, "Help! Someone, help!" only to be muffled, and the grunt of the other. The sounds were coming from down an alley a little further away, and the Slayer, having identified as much, picked up his pace, footfalls carrying him ever more swiftly toward the opening between the buildings. As he neared he heard the female cry out again, a wordless shout, undertoned by an almost bestial growl from the other voice.

Boots grinding over a few loose stones, he turned the corner into the alley, and even in the darkness between buildings, it took only a moment to realize what he was seeing - exactly what he feared, a feeding.

"Unhand her, Kindred," he called toward the unfortunate girl's attacker, one hand raised to point accusatory.

This was followed by a weak moan from the girl, before the vampire dropped her unceremoniously to the ground, blood glistening on his face in what little light penetrated the alley, "And who are you to tell me what to do?"

"The name is Reiz," he answered simply, before pulling a blade forth from within the greatcoat, and surging forth. The vampire was quick, but having been caught largely by surprise, was unable to react in time, and the first blow from the Slayer severed its right arm, spraying blood onto the white coat.

With a hiss, the blood-sucker bounded backwards, its surviving arm grabbing hold of one of the walls as it attempted to scrabble upwards and away from him.

"Come now, it's not so bad. Think of it as a release from your curse," the hunter called up to his prey, fishing within his coat with his free hand. The vampire had made it some distance up the wall, but now, its speed had slowed, without the momentum of being able to leap off the alley floor, and gave him another hiss in response. Finding what he was looking for, the Slayer pulled forth a vial, and hurled it at the vampire. The sound of shattering glass was followed quickly by a bellow from the Kindred, which released its hold on the wall and plummeted toward Reiz. The Slayer raised his blade, and while he managed to spit the vampire with it, it did little to stop the descent, and he found himself pinned beneath the blood-sucker.

His breath was forced from him, but he wasn't injured, unlike the one-armed, skewered, and now-blind vampire, for the vial that had impacted on its face had held Holy Water, a wonderful liquid, in the Slayer's opinion, with numerous uses. He couldn't help but laugh at the Kindred's predicament, and pulling his legs up, he wrapped them around the waist of his quarry, "I really -am- doing you a favor, you know." And his hand struggled to once more find the grip of his blade, while the other attempted to come up to his face, so that he might ward off the blows of the vampire's taloned fingers.

"SHUT UP! SHUT UP YOU MORTAL FOOL!" the thing bellowed in his face, flecks of blood from what would be the vampire's last meal splashing onto his cheek as the claws on its remaining hand found the side of his neck.

"Augh!!!" The sound tore from the throats of both the Kindred and the Slayer, as the blade was yanked upward through the long-dead body. Reiz disentangled his legs from the vampire's body, and attempted to kick it off of him, while pulling the blade loose from the body that had been nearly cut in half.

Being cut into a pair of nearly identical, if incomplete vampires did little to stop the blood-sucking monster, which, while it rolled partially to the side of the Slayer, managed to swing it's still-connected arm at his face, the impact sounding a sickening crunch and nearly rendering Reiz unconscious.

He managed to roll a little with the punch, rather than having his neck snapped at the head, and stumbled back onto his feet. The vampire did the same, but the wound it had suffered left a good half of its upper body hanging from its waist at an extremely awkward angle.

"'Whoever shed last blood, by man shall his blood be shed," he mutters, even as the vampire charges toward him, both hands now grasping the hilt of his weapon, "Destroy all that which is evil, so that that which is good might flourish," and he swings the blade, the rampaging vampire cut clean in half just above his waist, blood splashing onto the white coat of the Slayer and the wall behind the vampire, "And you shall be counted amongst my favored sheep, and you shall have the protection of all my angels in heaven.'" The Slayer then moved to the upper of the two halves, stepping on the wrist of the doomed Kindred's still-functioning arm, so as to keep it from attempting to claw away. "This the Lord did say unto me, and by your destruction, I will continue on my path, His path."

While he'd never admit it, taking joy in such a holy quest, Reiz did feel some sort of satisfaction as he witnessed the fear, no, the terror in the doomed vampire's eyes, before his other foot swung toward its face, dislodging it's still-extended fangs from its jaw, before his sword removed its head from its already mangled body. At this, the thing stopped moving, but regardless, he covered it in lamp oil and lit it aflame. In the light of the vampire's burning body, he moved to pick up the teeth he had kicked free of its bloodied mouth, and then to tend to it's still-unconscious victim.

Within moments, he had treated the wound, a small amount of holy water to prevent the vampiric taint from spreading, and a bit of healing salve and a bandage to help the holes in the flesh close themselves. He didn't bother to wake the girl, though.

Finally, he exited the alley, and with a faintly contented smile on his face, he moved back toward the BlkDragon. One down, countless more to go, but now, something felt more right about the whole thing, perhaps he could help Drache, after all.
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Re: November 2003 - Mail Archives

Post by Jayne »

A Proclamation from the Lord Chancellor
Author: Dan
Date: 22 November 2003

By order of Arlok ul-Dorn, King of all Arangoth and Protector of Elvendeep, the Regency Council has officially been dissolved as of the 11th day of Sun's Dusk in the year 473. While the men and women who have served on the Regency Council have accomplished much good for the city of Drache and Southern Arangoth as a whole, it has been hampered from effective action by the cumbersome nature of decision making by committee. In those times in which the Council did respond quickly, it was often due to a single Councilor acting on his or her own authority, and receiving sanction from the rest of the Council after the fact. Though the Council has been a noble experiment in government, it has proven to be a failed experiment.

Therefore, it is the will of the His Majesty that Transdariania receive a more traditional form of government, that of a Sithire* advised by a Privy Council. A single Sithire with the authority to make critical decisions will help to avoid the inertia that plagued the Council, while the wise advice of the Privy Council will make sure that the interests of the people of Arangoth are represented and considered.

Until a new Sithire is appointed by the King, the Chancellery will temporarily administrate the province, and restore peace, order, and the rule of law after the recent turbulence.

We are the servants of the Crown and the people of Arangoth. An Menxvan aptentrix ai Arangoth.**

Me enxenimil,

Marcion ul-Fenduth Tagran Aldenbar
Lord Chancellor

The Honorable Ketara Lyon
Magistrate of the Crown

The Honorable Takani Goran
Magistrate of the Crown

The Honorable Finist Escadr
Magistrate of the Crown

The Honorable Segovax ul-Ambixus Eppilus
Magistrate of the Crown

Lucius von Stahl
Captain of the Royal Guard

22. XI. 473.

[seal of the Chancellery affixed]

[seal of the Royal Guard affixed]



Notes:
* - The original meaning of Sithire is Duke, though it can also mean
governor
** - May Menxvan watch over Arangoth
*** - By our hands
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Re: November 2003 - Mail Archives

Post by Jayne »

Solitude
Author: Karah Kerridwyn
Date: 22 November 2003

Mondas, Sun's Dusk 17 in the year 473



She had awoken at dawn, right when the sun was raising its head from the mountains. Her gold flecked, light brown eyes now looked ahead of her, watching the light spread over the lush green grass of the glade she sat in. She had removed her clothing, stripping herself of anything of materialistic value. She would show herself, naked to them when they took her.

The chill of the morning air prickled her lightly tanned, ashen under toned flesh. She rubbed at it slightly, even if the cold barely affected her. Her long, silver, curly hair was bound back, away from her face with pins. The length of it hung free, wisps of it blowing in the slight breeze. She looked away from the rising sun and to the ground before her, noting the tiny frost that clung to the blades of grass. Green and lively on the inside, cold and hard on the outside, so much like how she had become. She took in a deep breath, her eyes closing.

Her thoughts began to roam to the past, things that had occurred in her life. A life of eighty years. Barely enough time to do much of anything and normally, her kind lasted much, much longer. But that was the deal and the deal had to be fulfilled. She took in another deep breath.

She thought of her father, the man she barely knew. Her mother, the woman that had made the deal to bring her back and then told her what was to transpire. Rhiannan had gotten her knowledge from her mother. Much of what she had now was from her. Then there was Jorddyn, and Gael, and then Jessinda. Her daughter, the one that she thought she would never see again. What a tragedy that had turned to be. Then there was Mikal, Kain, Morddyn, Michael, Amadeus, Vaenalion and Laehana. It had been only the past five years that she had known them but they had done something in her life that she would not forget. Eprisioncells had become the son that she had lost when she returned to Cym Aiglos`nor. Lost in his own amnesia, looking for something. She took care of him until he was well again, until he was ready to leave her. Leave her to being alone again.

It seemed to be the story of her life, find happiness, have happiness destroyed, and live alone. Perhaps that what another reason behind her cold nature. The fear of once more becoming alone. She lifted her eyes from the ground, noticing that the day was drawing to a close. The day was ending and she was still there, in the glade, naked. She lifted her eyes to the skies. “What, are you not coming for me?” She asked softly. “Am I no longer worthy of your attentions?” Her almond shaped eyes searching the skies for some sort of sign. She shakes her head and then looks away. “You told me that I would be freed after eighty years. That I would not have to live this life any longer. Where are you now to fulfill your promises? Where are you to give me what I want?” She took in a deep breath and then slowly began to get to her feet. It was then that a shadowy figure began to step into the glade, right as the sun showed the last of itself over the treetops behind her.
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Re: November 2003 - Mail Archives

Post by Jayne »

Feransa's Meal
Author: Shyne Blake-Kurakolis
Date: 23 November 2003

Note: Blood, tragedy and vampires.

The night was her refuge, the shadows her home. She couldn't remember the glory of a sunset now, that memory had faded as the years passed in darkness though there was a beauty to be found in the heavy moon and a starry sky. She remembered more vividly the love she had watched the sunset with hundreds of years ago.

The vampire who had killed him had turned her. She couldn’t forget the sweetness of the love but it only increased her bitterness which drove her to wallow in the blood of others. She went mostly for lovers when she was feeding, young couples on moonlit strolls, those gazing at the stars during loving trysts. If she could not have it, then why should they?

Feransa was the name she used now, but it had not been the name of her life, only the name of this living death. She watched them now, the lovers hand in hand under the flickering torch of a street lamp. He caressed her cheek and she looked up at him with the light of love deep in the wells of her eyes.

“I have missed you,” he said.

“It has been but a day since I was last within your arms,” she responded.

She drew the cloak close about her and glanced furtively along the streets around her to ensure no vigilante watched her at her prey as she watched them. There had been some slaughtering of her kind in the city of late, the cattle seemed restless within their pens and were breaking free to kill that which sought to feed upon them. She was cautious but on finding herself certain she was alone with the lovers, she stepped into the stream of light that cast shadows over her features. The man fought bravely as she swooped upon him but his strength was no match for hers, the girl screamed and pissed herself, rooted to the spot as the fangs which protruded from Feransa’s gums pierced the throat of her love.

That first bubble of the hot blood, the throbbing of the pulse reminded her of the pleasure of her lost loves hands on her body; it was a memory of all she had lost and a way of grasping it for that short time. She was long done with sexual feeling otherwise, she was dead, cold, and it held nothing for her that the throb of hot blood could not give.

Feransa gained a filling pleasure from her feast of the man which was as well since the girl died of shock almost as soon as she took her first bite. Once the cattle were dead it no longer held any interest or nourishment for the vampire. She let her drop against him and the lovers lay, almost in one another’s arms as she turned and slipped away among the darkened streets of Drache.
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Re: November 2003 - Mail Archives

Post by Jayne »

A Mother's Thoughts
Author: S C
Date: 23 November 2003


It had been only days since Morrow had learned of her new state of being, compliments of her "daughter" Malynn. And she had spent pretty much all of that time deep in thought, for she had many things to consider now. She simply could not keep wandering about this city, bringing mayhem and death to any who would get in her way. Not now that she had much more important things to take into consideration, such as the life that grew inside of her even now. And how quickly that sweet life would come to fruition, having a much more swift term of pregnancy than most creatures, this new child would likely be born in about 5 months. How soon it seemed, how fleeting time would be from now till then.. yet it might also seem endless.

Morrow knew that her husband had already began many plans and actions in this city, within it's people, yet she also knew how much this coming child meant to him. She couldn't forget the look on his face when she'd told him of it, how he'd become so beautifully ecstatic over the future now.

Yet would they have a future in this place and time? Would their excitement and joy over this new life, be crushed by things to come?

She would never let anything harm a cell in her child's body, and she knew she also had the protection of her Kin and friends. Yet she knew that she could not be so certain of Aeren's safety, just as she had always been fearful for him. He was a strong and stubborn man, and when it came to this new war he was waging in their names, she knew he could not back down from what had already begun.

It scared her to think that this child might be born unto this world without her father to see her. To be there for her, and to bask in the glory of her being.

And Morrow didn't want to have to think about the possibility of going back to that life she'd known for years.. A life of solitude and loneliness, living in the shadow of a man she longed for every single day and night of her solitary existence. Not even the promise of the comfort and comapny of a child, could fully take the place of the need she held for her husband. She needed him to stay with her now, needed him more than anything she could imagine, yet she could never shake the fear and worry that came with his being alive. Perhaps it was a learned response, developed throughout their lives together, but she would always hold the doubt in her mind, and it was inescapable.

She wanted to live a life of freedom and peace, just leave everything and everyone behind, and enjoy a life of contentment with her family. Her husband and child.

She would give up all this death and destruction.. All the rage and hatred that lived within her.. If she could just live in peace with the ones she truly loved.

If only those that would destroy her and her husband, could see that all that was wanted was a life of peace and simplicity.. Maybe they would not hunt them so. Hate them so.

But perhaps it was only she who held such thoughts of life. She knew how much Aeren wished to exact his revenge on this world for what it had done to him, and wasn't so sure he could give all that up to actually settle down and live a proper life.

Maybe it was the path that had been chosen for him in this life... To bring war and revenge to those who would oppress him. The idea of such only made that possible future seem further and further from becoming a reality, and Morrow didn't know what to do about it.

She certainly couldn't and wouldn't leave her love to his fate, while she went off to live a life of solitude and peace with the child in her womb. Yet in the same regard, she could not stand idly by and watch the father of her unborn child run off into the middle of a war, only to fail to return to them once it was over.

So many thoughts raged in her mind these days and nights, and she knew she would have to sift through them all and decide what their future was going to be. Before this child was born, and before Aeren could commit to something that could never be undone.
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Re: November 2003 - Mail Archives

Post by Jayne »

To fear the darkness is only human, to destroy it is divine
Author: Ellis Atchison
Date: 23 November 2003


Cayel stepped quietly through the shadows. His form, clad solely in black, blended perfectly into the night. Perhaps it was an enchantment, perhaps it was simply force of will; but, whatever it was it allowed him a great mobility. A scream had attracted his attention, drawn him into the alley way, and set him to see the creature.

She had her lips locked upon the neck of the man. His back was arched in a way no man could logically do. Cay watched as his expression turned from pained horror to that of pure bliss. A shake of his head was given at the thought of this before he sighed softly and drew, from its sheath upon his back, a silver sword.

It was a blade covered in runes, though an alien type to this realm. Forty inches long and designed for a single hand. He moved then, within a moment, the vampire in its gluttonous handling of its 'prey' was only able to look up in time to see the weapon slam down upon its head.

She dropped the man she had been feasting on, and turned as if to do more. As she raised her dagger to thrust, his left hand had already drawn the steel weapon, covered much as the first with alien runes. It flashed in what little light was allowed before the vampires head came away from the body with a sickening gush of blood.

A thought, only momentary of trying to return the vampires to life, but that is quickly shaken away. 'Impossible,' he mused, 'well maybe not entirely.' Another shake of his head and he was levering the head off of his silver blade. Both swords, shaken free of the offending blood - which slid off like water, were replaced into their respective scabbards.

Cay unbuckled his overcoat and his right hand slid within the confines. >From there he drew a small vial of blue-white liquid. The cork he soon removed and poured the entirety of the mixture over the vampires heart. As he rose and walked away, catching up the head with a twist of his form, the vampires body burst into flames and within moments was nothing more than a memory.
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Re: November 2003 - Mail Archives

Post by Jayne »

Chronicles of Drache: The Blood-Sucker Books
Author: Eric Fisher
Date: 23 November 2003


( It's a bit long and there is possible gore, violence, nudity and everything that makes these posts worth reading. )

A Mother's Love Part I

There was a time, long before her arrival in Arangoth, that Elise had been a mother. She had given her all, her very soul, to her mortal instinct to raise a child, or so she thought. In those days she paid no mind to the myths and legends, despite the superstitions of a young world around her.

Now these memories were only that, a history all but forgotten, though there were those moments, just like all mortals have, when a single image sparks a fire in the mind and forces it to recall things they had neglected. At times, it can be an unwelcome recollection, but there are pleasant memories as well. Perhaps this was one of those times.

Elise was perched atop a ledge opposite the belfry of a neighboring church. With an almost awkward smile upon her thin and colorless lips, the once-human-woman stared down through the sparse plumage of wintered trees toward the small frame of a well-bundled female who cradled a smaller, less defined mass of fabric within her arms and to her chest. Draped delicately over the woman's chest was another, thinner length of fabric to hide the activity of the infant as it nursed at her ample breast.

A new mother, obviously, the girl was clumsy in the action that would certainly become a well-practiced habit eventually. It seemed Elise was content just to watch from her vantage point, staring like a curious raven, and resembling such a black bird as she was equally concealed by her cloak and cowl. It was an innocent observation, until Elise began to feel something she had thought impossible along her icy flesh. There was a warmth, a sensation so forgotten that it took the vampiress a moment to familiarize herself with it once more.

As the nipple of her own hidden breasts began to grow firm, her reflective, rust-red gaze was narrowed between their delicate lids and soot-covered lashes. She even made a pleasured sound as her thin lips pursed and her slender fingers curled against her wooden perch. Soon, Elise could watch no more. The vampiress descended like a shadow, through the branches of the trees that responded as if she were only a breath of cool air like so many others that made their limbs and leaves tremble throughout that evening.

She was quiet, but she cooed toward the mother and babe. Approaching as she did, the young mother was unaware until Elise was upon her. There was but a swift second of eye contact between the vampiress and the mortal that was hardly a woman before Elise took her into an embrace and buried her elongated canines in the throbbing artery just below the surface of the girl's own pallor flesh.

Against Elise however, the girl looked tanned and the contrast was strict until the mother's struggling hands went lax and her body accepted its fate. Elise was careful when she released the lifeless form of the girl and plucked away the child that one hand still encircled.

The vampiress held the noiseless toddler out before her, then cradled her, mocking as best she could the method in which its mother had employed. The babe cooed and gurgled fearlessly in the arms of its new surrogate-mother. The rust-red of Elise's eyes dulled significantly as she stared at the tiny mortal in her uncomfortably cool embrace. With her opposite hand, the vampiress worked free the fastenings of her dark tunic, opening it to reveal her bloodless breast whose nipple had turned a quickly fading pink from her recent feeding.

Anxiously the toddler took hold, though its response was tentative, consider the lacking warmth of Elise's flesh. The vampiress watched as the small, warm lips of her newly adopted babe curved about her nipple and began to nurse pointlessly at a breast that contained no nourishment.

It was a brief pleasure, and it served only to remind Elise of the life she'd lost and those she'd taken from the ones her mortal self once provided for selflessly. A snarl replaced the vampire's almost pleasant expression and the youngster was torn from its nursing and its neck brought swiftly to the predator's lips where it would soon join its mother in the afterlife. She was not without compassion still however, and when life had left the tiny figure, she lay it to rest against its true mother's open gown, covering them both with the excess cloth she'd used to conceal herself.

A Mother's Love Part II

"You are a wretched creature, aren't you?" A voice that rivaled her own in its monotonous quiet whispered from the shadows.

The vampiress turned quickly toward the sound of breath, even before her watcher had made his inquery. Her blood stained teeth were show, in the same way a cat might respond were it cornered.

"Who are you?" She hissed quickly, demandingly. It was only the first of a rampant flood of questions that had attacked her mind. She had no idea how long the man had been standing there. Had he witnessed her murders?

The man replied with laughter and remained within the darkness provided by both the trees she had peered through only moments before and the building that surrounded the private area. It was clear that he had no intention of answering.

The laughter seemed to echo inward, and for the first time in many years, Elise's skin crawled in answer to the noise. She refused to let her unease be knowledge of this creature. She could smell death on his words, but it was so unlike the smell of death that her own prey permeated the area with. "Show yourself, coward, or I will kill you where you stand!" The vampiress demanded again, more strictly, snarling in wake of her cry. She stepped toward the creature menacingly, though her procession was well-measured.

The watcher laughed again, louder still and as yellow irises surrounding unmistakably triangular pupils came alive with inner light, Elise retreated the step she'd taken. If such a thing could happen, what color her stolen blood had allowed her, it ran away from her cheeks and left her with an even more deathly pallor.

"No." Elise whispered as shivers ran along her curving spine. Her own eyes were raging in their color and her hands clasped before her as if she would pray to a God that condemned her. "Please." There was no prayer in her begging.

Those yellow eyes vanished into the depths of the darkness that swallowed their owner and the vampiress had no time to weep or wonder where the creature had gone to. From the shadows at her back, the beast erupted, taking Elise in arms too strong for her to struggle against. She screamed a mortal's scream which quickly turned into muffled sounds of animalistic ferocity in the night.

Those cries would echo into a night that would not listen; a night that offered no more solace to Elise, the vampire.
Jayne
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Re: November 2003 - Mail Archives

Post by Jayne »

Chronicles of Drache: The Blood-Sucker Books II
Author: Eric Fisher
Date: 23 November 2003


( Short post, some blood and all that other stuff is possible as always. This will be used mostly for background info. )


A Brief Encounter Part I (Background Information)

With the rise of the sun over the city of Drache, the troubles of the night before were often forgotten. In the case of the recent vampiric crimes, the coming of a new day was dreaded by more than a few, if only for the bodies of the victims they might find.

Fortunately for the new predator in Arangoth, the remains of its victims simply turned to ash with the light of day. Thus, in the cold of this new day, there lay the body of a young mother drained of blood and her equally lifeless babe clutched to her bosom, somewhere in the alleys of the city.

Unknown to the citizens of Drache however, was the ill-brought justice the occured that very same night at the hands of Vaenik, a Reaver. Though his intentions may not have been so honorable, the unlife of a leech he hated, perhaps just as much as the mortals of Arangoth, had been taken in turn for the one she'd stolen away from another nameless family of Drache.


A Brief Encounter Part II

"Nothing can move that quickly." Narrowed Kindred eyes sought to follow the blur that was their attacker as it moved swiftly about the shadows around their owner and his accomplice.

"Not Kindred." The other fledgling vampire whispered sharply into the night as his back met that of his companion's and he brought his blade up before him defensively. "Impossible." He spoke again, so quietly that his tone could have been mistaken for fearful. Frantically the two Kindred swept the vicinity with their eyes, searching for any signs of the unknown creature.

"It's gone." Goosebumps rittled the expanse of both bloodless bodies and clenched teeth were proof of just how much they both wanted that statement to be truth.

A wet choking sound came from behind and the smaller of the pair twisted around with preternatural speed to find his companion lifted from the ground by the hand of some shadowed monster.

Kindred eyes were wide as they watched in horror, the scene as it unfolded before him. Colorless lips began to tremble when another sound was heard, that of the esophagus of his partner being crushed under the power of the Reaver's grip.

Consumed by the terrific violence, his reverie would end as quickly as it was spawn. When Vaenik turned, with fierce, yellow eyes and snapped forward like a starving wolf. The beast's jaw closed completely over the throat of the frightened vampire.

There was no cry that accompanied the attack, and the still choking, still writhing Kindred in Vaenik's grip watched helplessly as his companion's torso was torn apart by the tooth and claw of their feral attacker, knowing his demise would come soon after the Reaver had finished his meal.
Jayne
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Posts: 359
Joined: Sun Mar 13, 2016 9:42 pm
Preferred Title: Nymphadora
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Re: November 2003 - Mail Archives

Post by Jayne »

The Consequence of Revenge
Author: Aeren Price
Date: 24 November 2003

It would not be so easy for him anymore. The night, the very air around him, would be a constant threat. At least, that’s how Aeren felt as he moved down the long and narrow forest path. So much was at stake now… not only his life, his love, and his reality… now there was a child, his child, to consider. It was another miracle; a vampire and an angel bearing a child for the second time. Only, this child would be unlike its sister, Malynn. This child would not have the eternal gift of godliness and omnipresence… this child would be a normal baby, one who was defenseless to their hate-filled world. Such a reality troubled Aeren greatly, in spite of his absolute joy.

When Morrow had told him of Malynn’s gift, he had been overcome with happiness, yet the hard truth of the matter was that he’d already set the plans in motion without thinking of the consequences. Now, there was potential for great pain, and great suffering, and it could all fall on the unborn life that waited in Morrow’s womb. He was truly scared, though he would never show it on his cold expression. Time would be their judge, their jury, and perhaps even their executioner, and there might be nothing he could do about it all. The helplessness was almost too real, despite the constant denial from Aeren. It was amazing how such a miracle could have the potential to bring with it such pain. Such uncertainty, such fear, resided in the heart of the dark vampire that night, and the feeling was oddly foreign.

He breathed a heavy sigh, letting the worry and fear melt away as he stepped into the camp he’d set up for all the mortals he fed from. It was strangely quiet… no fire burnt in the campfire pit, and no music could be heard on the breeze of the nearly empty night. As he emerged from the trees, he saw a few of the young people look his way, and an expression of surprise filtered onto his expression. They looked horrible, like zombies, and something akin to rage could be seen behind each pair of eyes. It had been nearly four days since he’d visited them, because the news of his new child, and the worry of the backlash from his actions had taken over his thoughts. He could see that they had been waiting for him, and that they’d thought he had abandoned them. Had he been human, he would have felt sorry for them… yet, now, he was only concerned about his child and his wife, and it was time to break the mortals’ hearts.

As one of them looked his way, he called out in a hoarse voice, “It’s Aeren. He’s returned at last.” The tone was far from joyous, sounding more than spiteful and sarcastic. The others looked his way and slowly, one by one, they began to rise to their feet, shuffling over to him like the walking dead. The hate was apparent on their faces, and Aeren’s muscles tightened instinctively. He had seen too much hate, lately, for him and his love. It was starting to get to him. As they moved closer to him, he held up a hand, looking over the growing throng with a look of disdain.

“You will disperse. Go back to your homes in the daylight, and forget the feeling that I’ve given you. I will no longer give you the gift.” The statement was simple, yet it brought forth such anger and outrage from the crowd. He heard comments of, “I knew it…” and “… he’s abandoning us…” Aeren’s teeth clenched at the growing rage within the mortals and he growled under his breath.

Almost instantly, they rushed forward, as if to mob him for the gift he’d promised them. The first of them was met with a swift blow to the face, crushing the young man’s skull and dropping him to his back. The action barely phased the others, so blinded were they in their need for the bite, and soon Aeren found himself ripping through the flesh of the others. It was a horrible sight… the once savior of these lost sheep now sending them to their eternal rest… in pain, in agony, and in the name of his child. They were all over him, uncaring of the pain he was inflicting. They fought futilely to bring him down, yet he merely threw each of them off. Blood stained the once lush grass, and screams filled the night air.

It was then that he felt the intense, burning pain in his ribs. He sucked in a quick breath and looked down to see a woman’s hand closed around the hilt of a dagger, which was imbedded in his side. The wound hissed loudly, and he felt his flesh being burned, seemingly from the inside out. The pain was nearly unbearable, and, with wide eyes, he followed the arm up to the face of the woman… Sephora. Her face was filled with nothing but hate and loathing, and as their eyes met, she gave the dagger a sharp twist, opening the wound in his side to the fullest. He couldn’t help the scream, and he couldn’t help but notice Sephora’s pleased expression at his pain. Obviously, the dagger was silver… the only metal that could inflict such pain on his vampire kind. The wound brought Aeren to his knees… the savior, the messiah, on his knees in front of his first victim. He shut his eyes tightly, trying not to scream once more… and that was when he felt the second stab from a second silver dagger.

This pain shot through his back, as the second dagger was plunged into him and turned, exactly like the first. Again, he screamed as the hiss from the second wound rose into the air. Looking behind him, Aeren saw the horribly twisted face of Devon, smiling crazily down on him through hate-filled eyes. How ironic it was… to be so badly wounded by those that, less than a week ago, had called him their salvation. He had never seen it coming.

The pain was almost as intense as the panic within him. He cried out pitifully in agony, not only because of the wounds that burned so badly, but because of that simple fact that he was helpless now… so soon after learning of the beautiful miracle of his child. Suddenly, he could see the horrible end coming too soon… and the pain made him useless to do anything. He fell softly to his side on the cool grass, his vision filled with nothing but the gnashing teeth and angry cries from those around him. He felt the second wave of pain rush through him as both Devon and Sephora withdrew their daggers. With a look of horror, Aeren realized that he knew those daggers… they were the knives he’d given to Shallara so long ago, and they held his symbol on their hilts… the crescent moon. Now, the feeling of utter betrayal joined the feelings of panic and pain. It was indescribable.

His blood was pooling beneath him as his vision began to blur; the sounds around him began to dull, as if he were underwater. He forced himself inward, hiding within his consciousness, as he’d trained himself to do all those years he was alone. The terrible feeling within was his only point in reality… his only rock in the ocean of the void. After a while, he could hear no sounds of anger and emotion… it was all a black silence, and Aeren could no longer tell if his eyes were still open or not. He had no concept of how much time had passed; the only sensation he could feel was the extreme pain, and the cold blood beneath him.

He felt the new pain almost a full second after the blow hand landed against his jaw. He heard the sickening sound of his jaw breaking, but could not actually feel the bones crumble. He felt the second blow more then the first, as it landed directly next to his left eye. He felt his skull snap back and onto something hard… like wood. Desperately, he fought to hold on… to remain somehow aware of the pain. He had to… he needed to, just to know that he was still alive. Another crushing blow landed on his jaw, and the pain was felt a hundred times greater than before. His jaw was definitely broken, and now completely mutilated as it took more and more abuse.

Again, as if underwater, he heard the sound of a male’s voice, floating in and out of his mind. “That’s it… put his hand here…” It was an odd statement to hear amidst the untold pain. Aeren fought to understand… though he did not feel his hand being slowly drawn farther away from his body. He did not feel it being pressed on the cold, hard wood, and he didn’t hear the slight grunt of the male as something was lifted into the air.

The terrible force and pain, however, filled Aeren with new agony, as something like a sledgehammer came down and completely crushed his right hand. As he screamed horribly once more, he could hear the sounds of laughter all around him… the sounds of satisfaction at his pain. His world was crumbling in on him as his body felt like it was failing him… and, though he tried so terribly hard not to, he began to weep softly. The tears fell from his eyes, and he could hear the laughter grow as his torturers watched him break.

“Cast the spell…” Aeren heard from somewhere in the void around him. It was the last he heard as he slowly lost his battle for consciousness.

An untold amount of time later, he was deposited on the doorstep of his own home. His right hand was completely shattered, and, though he had not known it, a spell had been cast on him to prevent the unnatural healing of his bones. He still bled from both holes in his body, and his jaw hung loosely from tissue in his face. Both pale green eyes were swollen shut, and he was nothing more than a heap on the porch of his own home. Yet, he still lived… though barely.

In a matter of minutes, his entire world had given in and collapsed on top of him. Every fear he’d had was nearly coming true, and, in a way, he was back in his Hell. He had put himself in that Hell, once again, because of the hatred and want for revenge. Now, he paid for it all… broken completely and helpless… the one known as Aeren was no more than a pile of flesh and bones. The night seemed to swallow him, and he lay in unconsciousness, silently waiting for his love to discover his gruesome form…
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