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Etched In Stone

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Etched In Stone last won the day on May 20 2019

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    Depths of the Underworld
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  1. The moon-child stared into her gaze as she looked over her shoulder at him from the corner he stood, watching her and though the Dhampir had been unfortunate to been able to sift through her mind as did full-blood he thought of it to be be better as this. Her recent turning was something she still lacked in experience, but even more modestly did she not attempt to mask her true self from him. The hundred odd year male did however, sense confusion bellow from the guilt that burdened her lithe form, the pain that was supposed to been suppressed and no longer felt once she had been sired. The loss of love and cares for the only one person she ever spoke about, now ravaged by that of the race of whom Ira despised. As he slowly neared her form, hands yielding themselves upfront with opened palms in submission; just as he had promised her on the first day they'd met, his cautious stroll onward was one that hinted a conflict-free approach. His presence alone this night with her now, was reposeful and untroubled. Right there, this instant, he was in fact and had always been towards her, a man first .... Nevertheless, out of all whom resided at the Chateau, he could relate to her the most from his partial humanity. "I've been angry with myself, so much I thought I lost my humanness. The Master's departure has been way, longer than expected. Look at you .... Oh how much you changed since we've last spoke." His voice lightened even more, disinterested by the witnessing before him - in lack of better words the Cervantes Keeper had only let himself down for leaving her sight to begin. He stopped shortly infront, lifting her face by the chin to examine further her crimson eyes that bleed in fury yet also of fright. The contrasting warmth of his touch against her coldness, it was just as saddening as the truth that now lie before him face-side. His grope of fingers soon released her, shifting to face upstream that flowed down through the glen marvelously through the caligo of night. It was just he and her by the full-moon filled with sounds of chirping crickets, owls and other creatures that seemed to gather in a tranquil cacophony. The scent of Alistair bore deep into her veins, yet oddly enough she still held that collar around the neck. The sound of wind through the trees carried forth sweeping the area about their momentary space in silence. Perhaps this was her destiny, after all? And as he wondered of all the possible reasons why she'd became of this, he felt inutile to be her butler any longer. Drawing his lower lip between the teeth his mouth creeced lopsidedly as he beheld her with her icy blue eyes one, last time. Towering over her crouched form in a low, soft voice he mused to her a reply to her last statement indirectly. "You know, if only it was in your best interest. If only you were not forced, this undead life. I will spare you any more pity. But as for Alistair, it is my duty to see this through and he must answer for these actions against the Master. Come with me, back to the Chateau. However, just one last thing I must do." It was hard to even talk about, so he kept words to a minimal before moving onto the next thing in mind. From this night forth, she was no more the woman that reminded him of his mother. She was more the one that caused her sickly death. Martis couldn't blame her entirely, just now, nor was he going to react upon it until he knew for certain what exactly had took place. Still, in the eyes of the Dark Lord she was and continued to be, his responsibility. He failed three people, himself, her and the Choisel lord. Something that had to be dealt with another day. Reaching at the collar upon her neck with vampiric might, his right hand carefully tore the chasm free snapping it from the latch that constricted her in the most gentle way possible. However, he doubt much the force implied caused her any harm as a full-blood vampire now. Extending his hand for her to grab and lift from the ground, he hauled her to her feet and slowly began to head in the direction of the Castle as he'd cast away that hideous remembrance of her enslaved past into the passing water. @DarkHorse
  2. The duo of gays stood there a bit perplexed before answering Lady Phoenix She knew just as the Dark Lord that there was no true reason behind their accompaniment. For all intents and purposes, they'd had the slightest clue themselves as to why they were pre-meditatively selected. Perhaps it was their curiously wandering minds, the lack of giving a fuck about what those around them thought of their sexuality? The Vampire's indomitable will weighed heavy onto their shoulders just as they'd begin to feel as if they were regaining self-control - which was only momentary. Though they were allowed to think on their own, their actions and words that came following was that of the desired Nosferatu himself. "Salvation and refuge. A chance at servitude with the Master Kronos and his remarkable Matriarch, you." Leinhart clasped his hands together at the sounds of this, finding delight in his entertainment of the couple before returning to his lack of care for the human kind. Ironically, these were his own words and his betrothed knew well of their compulsion. From his seat between the two ladies he raised a single hand his palm flipped upwards as the guys each stuck their own out to be held at the wrist, one by one. A single talon from his freed hand curled itself into a hook. Once the first hand was held in place Leinhart traced the clawed finger across an artery, puncturing the flesh with effortless ease. This caused a flow of lifeforce to begin seeping from the open the wound. The first drops of actual bloodshed. Consciously, the spiky haired homosexual had no sensation of pain to feel, nor could he think about what was taking place. This was second nature. Almost willingly, he'd allow himself to be drained as he stared down at the gushing fluids now dribbling down his wrist unto the table, but there was nothing he could have willfully done to stop it. Not him, nor his boyfriend. As Tatia reeled herself closer to her brother she found himself pulling towards the held hand, placing his cold wet lips over the wound as he ran his tongue in an attempt to wipe it clean before setting his entire maw onto the wrist sucking the blood dry before it was offered to her secondly. The vampire's eyes shot wide at the near caffeinated beverage of life. Wiping his lips from the residue that remained he proceeded to follow up with the hand of the male's lover. This time, he didn't control how much he had drunk from the vital artery and left the man bone dry until his arm fell limp, smacking onto the table and his body rolled back into the booth where he'd fall unconscious and ultimately pass into the life. Dead as dry leaves. Tossing the lifeless arm back across the other side of the booth he'd remark to her in a single command. "Control yourself with that one darling. We need him, alive." @Eternity
  3. Blindsense was an ability that constantly enhanced itself, but one had to constantly train their senses in order to do so. It was true, Kenshi's sight was far incapable of actually viewing the woman before him through natural means. However, that did not indicate he couldn't make out the embodiment of her features or distinguish her from the two other voices that echoed from within the blacksmith. The spiritual warrior could in fact detect and discern energy - blacks and whites, to shades of grey separated living beings form material objects to the person's intents whether they were benevolent or malicious. His seasons of discipline under the ascetic mountain monks from his homeland taught him this, to rely on the heart's judgement and the mind's eye. Three hundred years of age was actually quite youthful considering he was a Ookami. An ordinary blind human would have taken half the lifetime to perfect such abilities, but all was possible in the world of supernatural. The door bells rung through his ears and the vibrations from the walls were enough to guide him through the entrance, his bare feet were utilized to feel the slightest of tremors and as he followed the lady to escort him he gazed around intently at the ornaments and hanging armors/weapons that were used as displays as if his dilated iridescent whites could actually see them. He did, just in the sense of only being able to recognize sizes and weights of such - but it was only when he came into contact with these tools did he actually understand what exactly he was up against, holding or feeling. The shop had been far more spacious than he depicted and judging by how not a single pebble stuck to his feet, he knew she either had enjoyed cleaning the place every day or that she barely had any visitors since her opening. The half canine Yokai lifted a hand to his straw hat and removed it gently placing it down to his side, tucking it under the arm pit as he transgressed further into the establishment. His midrift ash black tendrils parted down the center of his head free falling voluminously in it's groomed texture. Despite his actual age he appeared to be no more than his mid-twenties posing quite a feminine countenance about his oriental and youthful features. The ectomorphic male gave a gentle smirk to the one before him as he was greeted with her kind and warming words. However as she insisted on directing him to a chair, he'd known well enough that she was clearly underestimating his natural prowess and ability of which he'd make no apparent mention of at the moment, but instead returned to her an encouraging smile. The Swordslayer extended an arm to feel for the neck of the chair she mentioned and took a seat bestowing his hat onto his lap, folding the creases on the seams of his elongate summer robe and looked with tentative eyes for her location once again. Though, her voice quickly sweet sounding was soon relocated he assured her of that in his next remark. "It's Master Momoku. The city could use more gracious people such as yourself. It is more than a pleasure to have seen this place first hand. My men and I of the Imperial Army could use some of these fine wears you so passionately speak of." @Celina de la feytte
  4. Peculiarly enough, just - like - that ! Quin had vanished from the premise of the labyrinth. The Cervantes moon-child was a tad bit, too late upon his own arrival that she was now darting across the widespread Glen and with little notice of her existence capable of being traced. For once, just for once did he seem to buy himself the time to converse with her, just when she had been alone away from the others he thought that for maybe just once, he'd be able to tell her his wild feelings - his deep passion and why she had made the wrong choice of turning, being sired by the despicable Alistair Istrefi. Just as hopes clung to him as would lint to a dirtied garb, the blondie Dhampir noticed the further he transversed into the catacombs that the Doctor had fled. Something wasn't quite right - he sniffed at the air with his heightened sense of smell turning the corner he'd make his first round-about as he busted a sudden left, pivoting and shifting himself into another pathway. "You're a tough cookie to keep track on, I must say." Waltzing through the footpath Cervantes came to a realization that Quin had no longer been in the area she was just in. Then suddenly, an overwhelming whiff of freshly spilled lifeblood rushed through his nostrils that stopped him in his tracks. Judging by the short distance from where he just stood tracking down the Doctor, it only made sense to believe that it was her doing. No more than a quarter mile away from him somewhere off to the eastern edge of the glen, yet there was no telling just what organism was being spilled and drained of their blood. Martis prayed it was a human because feeding on anything else was bad for the nutrition. Not only did it mean she'd be experiencing some odd frenzied bloodlust, but drinking the blood of any organism other than a human said she lost all her humanity. That also meant there was no returning to her formal self, this panicked the dhampir - how long could she have been this way without his knowing? Did Alistair purposely allow this? Despite the blue-eyed vampire not being a full-blood, he still possessed higher than average physical capabilities than if he were just mere human. A disdainful grin formed upon his lips that blamed Alistair even more for all that had been caused to her. In a sheer display of his might pushing from the earth's crust to the sight of any onlookers, the half-blood leap into the starry night concomitantly vanishing into the air his material form zipping from the naked eye as he cleared the twenty-five foot labyrinth wall and landed back onto the dense glen grounds. In a burst of speed he took off running for the forest trail as would an Olympian track runner, zooming past the obstacles of trees and bushes turning a literal ten to fifteen minute run into a little over five or so minutes in his determination. Should Quin notice his approach and decide to take off yet once again, he'd have no choice this time but to apprehend her. He might not been a full-blood as she, but one thing was for certain he was bred to hunt her type down. Edging close to the river the sounds of rushing water soon become audible and before one knew it he arrived. In a slow stalk from behind her he observed as she washed her body, obviously attempting to rid herself from the pungent odor of her kill. Once he reached her he knew well from that point forward that she in fact had been sired - her blood no longer filled his nostrils of her tempting human scent. She now, smelled as he did and the others .... That, of an Undead. Stopping some meters between he gave himself the room that if she attacked him, he had enough time to react accordingly and if she wanted to flee, he could meet her somewhere in the middle of her retreat. His best choice of action was to try to speak with her, see where she stood at this point and that's what he did. A concerned voice called to her from the distance behind hoping she'd hadn't been too far gone in her transition she could in fact remember him. "Quin ... It is me. Martis. How are you, doctor?" @DarkHorse
  5. Word spread through the city of Jigoku in the Midlands quick that a new blacksmith had settled there and set up shop! As fast as wildfire could spread among a dense forest. It's people, not to mention the Rising Sun Dojo were ecstatic - this had been the city's first true and if not, only smithy in the region. This meant more weapons and armor of course to be produced and at a considerably lower charge or rate than having to import such goods to benefit the rising military there. While the Imperial General of the Datsuzoku Army was one of the first to be informed and intrigued his busy schedule of running the Martial Arts school, restoring his family clan of Ookami and overall strengthening the forces of the nation never seemed to be enough time in the day for the Headmaster to do as he pleased, whenever he desired. Though it had only been a short couple days since, on this bright sunny afternoon he'd sacrifice what he thought mattered more than his own personal satisfaction. Deciding to take it upon himself to give the place a visit, to introduce himself to the owner and show his gratitude by allowing them to work on a personalized request of his. One that may have seemed none that was fancy or far-fetched, but to also give back to the community rather. By now, the townsfolk had known well enough of the blind man accompanied by seven artic wolves from the forgotten city of Cobran. Kenshinobu Momoku was a legend and hero to these people, he had served the Empire long enough through a time of great prosperity and peace that the Swordslayer's renown and contributions was far than admired and respected. Wherever his barefeet carried him through the streets the people clung to him and embraced his presence with a heartfelt warmth that could sooth even the most agitated of bellies. He often influenced a crowd of followers to travel with him be it for any simple errand he did not desire a clansmen or Moon student to task. Kenshi welcomed the people with open arms as if he was the Emperor himself. He'd make a fine leader undoubtedly even without being called Master or sensei, his sagacious years of training with the Mountain Monks of the Village Hidden in the Rising Sun enlightened him greater than any other teachings one could receive. The 300 and some odd years hanyo proceeded from his Pagoda after finalizing and prepping his order for the Ookami clan to travel to the distant land of Crystallo where they would be ordered to establishment a temporary settlement, gather some of their natural metal resources and ultimately, form an alliance with the leaders there. The five foot six 145 lb half-demon entered the market district in his traditional suite of a plain silk-white yukata and straw kasa that shielded his bereft sight, brimming over long tresses of onyx cascading shoulder-length hair. He bore with him on this day only a single blade tucked into his pale obi upon the left side of the hip; the Katana-esque sword blessed unto him by the Heika himself contained no sheath as it protruded beneath his form shining a metallic icy blue at the tip it curved, but became darker in tint nigh-pearlescent in its stone blue reflection down at the hiltless side. One could wonder how his pupiless eyes granted him vision, or perhaps it was evident that the cobran wolves in his company was enough sight and clarity as service canine. One thing was certain, he arrived outside the apothecary pleased to hear some voices beyond the shop's doors that made it there before him. A gentle hand from the elongate right sleeve of his white yukata raised itself into view as it balled into a slight fist knocking at the door that rested ahead. The service lupis canine took to their hind limbs with obedience as their master awaited an answer and remained outdoors once he did upon entry. At the sight of whomever came to reply, he'd produce a deep bow one that shouldn't have came from a man of his status and that was always instead given to him upon greeting. A kind smile brandished itself from his thinned pinkish lips as they would part to speak slowly. "I am Kenshi, Master Momoku of this land. What brings you to Jigoku?" @Celina de la feytte
  6. Hey there  😉

    Thanks for follow. 

    1. Celina de la feytte

      Celina de la feytte

      You're welcome, thank you for the follow back. 

      Also hello ! -waves- 

  7. Eat or be eaten. These survivalistic natures were honored to the degree they were respected in the heirarchies of a food web. Vampires were at the top of the list deemed to be superior creatures of the supernatural second to none, but in a constant clash against many. As Martis trailed off for another desirable kill his already blood-hungered senses were roused by that of the familiar - it lured him closer and closer back through the corridors of the Glen he marched hounding relentlessly for that scent, her smell though it been quite different from the last time he recalled. Knowing that in fact it was her, certainly this reassurement had to be challenged. The stench of blood covered her undeniable guilt and Martis suddenly became overwhelmed by the truth of the matter that she was ..... No longer human. "Quin....." His tone spoke of subtle resent, one that which he had come to the realization that he had failed himself, the Dark lord and the Doctor. The closer he reached the more noticeable her potent taint became. His bloodlust was soon overthrown by a melange of feelings he long forgotten as a Dhampir. Discomposed and shamed. Madly enough, he'd have to admit his strange affections for her on another eve. The anomaly of his vampiric features no longer bore stretched and frightening oddities. They regressed as he felt himself come back to his prior natural-self, slowly reacquiring pieces of sanity again, his consciousness though his scarlet red orbs had yet to lighten and return to their intelligent deep blues. He could now remember, Alistair been left in charge of the Castle while the Master was away. Still he was infuriated with the Istrefi since that day nearly a month ago. Crushing at the leaves beneath his loafers, it wasn't long until the Chateau's labyrinth was in his line of sight. Thereafter, he stood at its entrance spiraling with pathways and overbrush in temporary rumination over Quin's freshly transition. He'd guilt himself accountable for such drastic measures taken of how the one command he was tasked with he didn't fulfill. Shaking his tresses of golden hair along with his head discontentedly at the truths he would soon become exposed to the moon child lifted himself to carry forth in a slowed pace to trail the doctor within the massive labyrinth. @DarkHorse
  8. The bartender would do as commanded with the flask in hand, he opened a bottle of vodka from the shelf behind him and hinted it with a splash of the viscous crimson fluid from it's reservoir. He'd go through the every bottle from Tequila, Congac, to Whiskey etc. carefully, tilting the flask upright as the fluids rolled into the concentrated alcohol. The guy had been in his early twenties with even, short brown hair black slacks and a button-up white collared shirt. His boyish almond eyes darted across the room up to the balcony lounge at Leinhart in a smirk that read across his lips the job had been completed. Safe to say a single drop of lifeforce was all that would be required to contaminate said beverages. Mr Choisel had yet to release his compulsion over the human male, but responded back to him via telepathic energies. ~Good job, my son. Now, continue running the bar and you will forget that any of this ever happened. Any surveillance footage for the day see to it that Ms. Yulie recieves it before the end of the night. The bass of the cyperbunk beat rocked the entire facility, so loud that one could hardly hear themself think. While partygoers seemed to rave and fist-pump rather than perform any actual real dancing, the crowd remained live and energetic in their movements. Several customers pulled up to the bar and ordered some drinks with the slightest clue that the alcohol was now contaminated. The Original retracted his attention at Yulie then to his bethrothed Lady Phoenix before parting lips to speak. "She's marvelous for a hive, don't you think? Our base of operations." Yulie quartered her phone into her purse whilst staring intently at the dark one with bulging eyes peering behind the plum aviators giveth her by Leinhart. As she still was coerced by his vampiric persuasions, brainwashed she had the faintest memories of her recent past now long in gone in her chambers of memory. The doll remained silent giving way for Tatia to speak first still she gazed into the pits of the primordial's golden orbs that reflected gloriously throughout the darkness of the room. The only thing that was really left to do now was sit and wait, whether that been a hour, three, or all night. But the moment the customers began indulging in their newest drinks their mutations were already beginning to change and alter there DNA. With his arms crossed over the other Leinhart sighed dully returning to his usual lack of enthusiasm. With the two gays now seated amongst them, it seemed as though the true party could now commence. @Eternity
  9. As he noticed there hadn't been a single trace of the travelers voyaging with him he only cursed himself for trusting the Cambion's to convince the dark one solely to tag along. Strange that his last recollection of the group was aboard the ship. The ship - had now been washed up and wrecked cast aside and torn asunder with bits and pieces of the Peregrine to float about the closeness of the shore. Lightly treading as if he wasn't ever treading atll gazing from the shoreline beyond the plum aviators on his face at the chaos that unfolded ahead. The Elder was without a clue as to what happened prior to his arrival upon the shore. Just roughly a few meters out in front, the hundreds of servant Sphex Pensylvanicus tormented the three rebels with their stingers, piercing the flesh beneath their robes injecting the victims with their Master's lifeblood concomitantly. As the bodies took time to react to the leeching antigens, it wasn't long before the toxins entered their bloodstream to soon induce effects of sweating, body pains and confusion before ultimately experiencing a close form of anaphylactic shock. Though these next few minutes of their passing etched to be horrendous, these robed natives were actually mutating into ghouls. Burning from the insides as the venom traveled their entire systems. The black horde's agitations and bellow of the harmonious murmuring was short-lived. As their victims were dosed even an ounce of the Master's blood killed them off, yet in that instant they'd collapse falling dead on their faces they were - resurrected. The Pendragon's words rum to his mind and is received, yet not responded. Something far death imposing had caused the waves and the crashing of the seas to halt or settle. A large flock of inhabitant birds overflew the crash site on the island soon and surely did pressure switch. The imbalance in air around him caused him to shift and proceed less reckless and devilish as hard it was to believe he along with the lot were in fact … Trespassing forewarned territory. By time the natives had fully grown their vampiric metamorphosis and adapted their bodies, the swarm returned to buzzing in formation enshrouding and concealing the dark one atleast from mortal human eyes. The sounds of energized weapons began to spin and charge that and the evident closeness was too risky once the airship sunk down from the sky and unveiled itself. Leinhart been given one of these pieces by Lord Xartia himself for a crew of passengers, but this magitech warship was something he'd had yet to experience firsthand. Rather, defeat at such a time. There wasn't any surrendering, not unless he intended on staying on the island longer than anticipated. Holding his face down as arms spread outwards each other he kneeled, the space beneath his form filled into a dark dimension that would literally pull him into a veil of the world that existed from two planes. The ghouls went out defending Choisel as in no time, were they obliterated with the rest of the litter scattered about. His Coffin. The horde of black wasps fused all into a single entity before erupting from the cannon fire and rounds coming from the ship in their contract of sacrifice for the Master's longevity. Leinhart only knew how to react and retreat as far as the shadow-walk take him from the massive airship into the jungle. @Twitterpated @Malintzin @Dolor Aeternum @Zashiii @The Hound @Voldemort
  10. "So tell me, what is it that attracts human specimen to these lime lights? And if you must do so, please be seated." Golden enigmatic swirls glared about the vicinity of the approaching queers. Leinhart studied the guys closely. Short haircuts in brightly dyed colors, dark jeans and pink shirts these gentlemen wore nearly the same attire; the slightly taller fellow out of the duo with soft grey eyes and a clean goatee, however was clearly the giver. Already intoxicated, having been lingering about the nightclub a few hours more than expected. Evident they sought to relax and acquaint themselves with the mysterious trio. Compelled to the Master's words they found themselves unable to resist a reply, coming just short of the booth before them they'd summon an answer. "Drugs, the lack of Po-po. The funky bright lights and architect. It's perfect for divas, don't you think?!" The male whom had no facial hair parted his lips to speak, the shorter, fe-male man, the girlfriend rather, ran a hand through his spikey black hair as he cocked the other at the hip and rested his body along one side of his loafered foot. More obvious than ever, the duo'd have no idea that the betrothed and her Count were vampires. They stood alongside the edge of the booth holding hands in love and matrimony while Kronos merely remained silent in his scrutiny until, a single hand lifted from the rectangular table reaching to pull a silver flask from his pant pocket. "Hmm... I see. You gays have a point. Now, I need a favor from you two." By time the bartender had come to serve Tatia her glass of Whiskey another notion was formulated in the depths of the vampire's mind. Less than a split second after, Leinhart's primal eyes blunk over once to reveal a pool of crimson hues he was still nonetheless, staring at the fruitful couple. Via telepathic sources, he communicated to His human mule as she'd reciprocate the information and act. The deathness coming from his stare was impinging and felt as if a hundred eyes intruded one's privacy beaming at onlookers, casting them into an unplumbed mesmerism that left those inflicted with a complete loss of voluntary action. They'd forget the rest of the world around them, the music, chatter, even the coming drama. All of it. Just as the bartender moved his hand from the booth from placing down the drink, the tainted Yulie snatched his arm up by the wrist and held it in place momentarily across the end of the table as directed by the Master in a fiendish glare. Mind oneself, the gay couple the minute they'd arrive at the booth before the Choisels were now undergoing hypnosis. Leinhart's unadulterated crimson eyes dropped onto the bartender concomitantly, he too should feel the barging force of the Master's compulsion wash him over, engulfing him into a being he was not able to command. "This flask. Mix every bottle you serve with a droplet. Then, may you continue with your customers here at my nightclub." The task seemed almost too easy to flunk, too simple to fail and damned impossible to resist. The bartender had no conscious idea of what was going on, nor would he realize in fact that Leinhart did not actually own the bar. Rather, he was impersonating the one whom did. However, he took the flask as ordered and carried himself from the scene to arrange what it was Kronos demanded of him. Heading back to the stairwell prior to doing so, he bowed himself kindly. This flask was not an ordinary drink. No. It contained the Master's lifeblood. Turning a half pleased grin towards Lady Phoenix, he remarked. "In due time, my lady. Due time." @Eternity
  11. "O say can you see, by the dawn's early light. What so proudly, we hailed at the twilight's last gleaming....." Riddling a tune monotonously words rolling over in minted breath, his unnatural maw extended gaping and wide unworldy in animation. On the outskirts of the Chateu a squealing vermin held betwixt the grip of pale bloodied digits. Squirming with all it's little effort to break from the hooded figure's constraint as Icy blues stared at the specimen inquisitively in awkward interest, squeezing the life away. A moment between prey and predator had come to be short lived. Cervantes feasted devilishly on any creature he'd find without a care, this was his Blood Rage and his second week of benging. All but a little of him remained, nigh deranged talking to himself as he held onto the little critter, yet in a state of contempt within he'd no longer seemed pressed by the worries of Quin. With a quick flick of the wrist he casted the rodent into the night littered sky, his eyes darted following. Dark cowhide shoes waited comfortably in stance, his chest poked forth towards the eternal sky. Mighty vampiric jaws adjusted themselves to swallow the Glen rat whole as it descended back down towards the earth. GULPPP! The Dhampir's eyes turned bloodshot in utter satisfaction for the pest as it transferred from his esophagus down to the gut. Venomous saliva easily acted as a synthesizer, breaking down protein without having them chewed to pieces. He'd felt no better since he refrained from artificial means of drinking. One of the most euphorias obtained this night. The once esteemed half-man undead no longer seemed to hold himself to such values, blarting a hideously loud belch over the land it seemed to echo from his tiny gain of a meal. With a smearing bloodied hand to pat his stomach he concomitantly wiped it clean across his tattered cloak, slowly dissipating back into abyss of the dark Glen he traversed in search of another delightful treat.
  12. The Master's return was a dreaded one, Martis had yet to be convicted by Council since the affair involving the Doctor. The first hand account of Alistair sipping into her limp body as he'd walk into the clinic doors. Flash backs haunted the vivid memory oh, how much more fxxx ups could the Dhampir afford? That night he saw her lifeless and overdosed! To keep her in condition, in wellbeing and health as she was prior the Count's sojourn. Meant make sure she was alive and still continuing the countless works for the Master. That was his troth to the Kronos before he rode off into the illuminated moonlight through the heavy gates of the Chateau into the Glen on nightmare chariot. Assigned to Keeping her safe as a Butler of personal, yet he guilted himself for failing horribly at doing the one job he was tasked. Come to find out, Ms. Nash was still human then, but only a short while longer. Perhaps she, the Doctor felt a similar feeling of disbandment from the Dhampir and Alistair was all she could find comfort in? And then, there was no telling of what occured to her distant prison lover. He'd beat himself to a pulp to the point mentally, his hunger for blood, his humanity and every inch of what comprised the blue-eyed Moon child faced the brink of breaking. Reverting to monstrous natures were much easier than resisting them. Martis's undenying infatuation for the wondrous Ms. Nash led him to suffer from great manic depressions as the days carried forth. Even though he couldn't save her from the horrid Black Lung as did Alistair. Ultimately, it caused the Istrefi to break the preponderance commandment of all. Quin was no longer free of Will, she too, sold herself to a Devil of lesser equal at that. All the while, Istrefi the favorable played his role well as the true savior, a hero only claiming to suck poison from her blood removing the narcotic and nothing more. When he actually sired the Doctor and severed the bond between her and Leinhart. Cursing himself for the mishap it's been nearly a week since his fleeing from the Chateau and when he did return, his cares for his self or others went disregarded and began to loathe the Coven even more so for allowing it. He had turned to feeding on live prey once again, from anything to rats passerbys in the Glen as he'd stalk the shadows and invoke his true vampiric ways. Blood-hungered and raged he'd retaliate soon enough.
  13. Long before the ship wrecked Leinhart had settled his quarter after briefly, acquainting with the other four from the crew. While all he had visibly on person was the leather briefcase carrying a pair of the same attire he was wearing today for the following day. The dapper Nosferatu could store irreplaceable and substantial items or artifacts of priceless value in a small pocket dimension, thus this method of transport required him to pack with him very little things even on his journeys to far places. By raising a single arm in the air and thrusting it down the the room itself rippled, then warped with distorting white light that followed the moment the arm waved once over. In the wake of the opening, a rather elongate and ageless carved wooden coffin lie against the room floor that harnessed an ancient energy of arborration from it's peculiar intricacy. Engraved on it's lid was a vampire bat and behind it a moon. 5,000 years seemed an impossible lifetime for a human, the condition the coffin remained in over such a great distance of age spoke for itself. Beyond normal comprehension and ordinary composite. Ancient texts ridden along the side ribs and ends of the trim foretelling a time before man, a curse, and a new world order. Of course this was all folklore and believed to only been myths. Running the obsidian nails on his fingers over the rim of the coffin's lid as the Master took to kneel he slid the heavy frame ajar ingesting it's stench of flowing lifeforce from his blessed victims, some of which he'd fed on while occupied in the casket. It reminded the dark lord of a time long from here, far from the troubles of this here day and age of man and their technological efforts. Where the world once seemed to fall under one sun, one moon, and a single Monarch. He'd slip himself into the toe end of the oak wood coffin, slowly sliding himself a leg after the other then, dipping the rest of his body into the head end, shutting the lid closed tight with his loose hand. He was off for a slumber until the ship had landed to be undisturbed by the waves, the tumbling and crashing of the Peregrine, nor the whereabouts of the rest of the crew once he awoke ... There was no telling how long he'd been asleep throughout the wreak. But only when the disturbance occur did he awake. A member from the resistance had been lucky to come across the floating unscathed coffin washed up by the coastline, he alerted the others and attempted to pry the lid from the box. To no avail another traveler walking with some type of metal crow-bar approached in which he latched to the sealed lid and with all the might he could afford, pried the son-of-a-stick 1/3rds open before unleashing a horde of Great Black wasps unto the frontier of what was assumed to finally be the Antigone Isles. While most of their bodies been protected by robes and shawls, it didn't guard them when the swarm shrouded at once from hundreds of angles, stinging these Natives not only, but infecting them with vampiric disease to decay and die instead of turn. Magic did not work as this was cleared specifically by Xartia, these wasps were in fact tangible once-living beings comparative to vampire in their current state. Hundreds of them were released into the air, attacking the island's resistance within the radius of the coffin and any whom continued to approach. While it was wise to assume Xartia had already been taken hostage by the time the coffin had washed up to the shore, the rest of the Antigone natives were looking out for extra stranglers and just so happened to come across the wrong box. The scent of fresh turning blood surfaced the area around Leinhart, that despite it's horrid dying state it was concentrated enough to alert and wake the Choisel vampire from his rough two hour or so nap. A firm pale hand slowly removed the rest of the wooden lid as the frenchman's visage of rich goldenrod eyes exposed from the casket, peaking out his ashen black tresses and fair feminely features from his angular face. The aromas of blood and death fascinated the primordial 's very senses, yet as he gazed further in bewilderment across the bright beachy shore to his surroundings, did he realize he was no longer on the Peregrine ship with the crew and Xartia. But, somewhere that seemed a very far ways from their destination. "Oh my. What has happened to everyone and where am I?" @Twitterpated
  14. The bafflement, confusion, concluded a brief torturing. There wasn't a harmonious response from the location of the Keeper's whereabouts this time, just the swaying and shifting of the anomalous world vexed in pitch black surrounding them. That not even the night creatures and scavengers of the Dark Forest were aware of the slight tremors cracking at the earth in a ten foot radius of the women beneath their feet. Sprinting from the umbra below four pairs of condensed materia tendrils formed, 3ft long and about 29 inches thick, two of them latching to their victims ankles while the other two concentrated on apprehending the arms, condemning them in place with their steel-esque constructs next. Now, questions arisen and that the tables in fact, did seem to turn in favor for the half-blood Cervantes Dhampir nearly slain from the presumptuous Orc. That even in the unnatural darkness the duo remained staunch and spirited, shameful he couldn't enjoy the thrill of entertaining their cat and mouse or scurrying rat theory. That, they were to be alive and reunited as the Conquistador guaranteed to the lost one Luna. From no more than five feet apart from both ladies the embodiment returned in it's curtain of absolute black, a siphon of menacing energy harnessed from the Nosferatu Choisel lord. As his form gracefully returned to visage so did the natural cold pink pigmentation of his flesh and the animation of his golden shoulder-length tresses of shirly curls. One hand sat cocked by the elbow hanging onto his right hip, while the other fiddled with a few strands from his chin inquisitively. Cold blue eyes glared unto Natasha the bashing one first, before winking at her delightfully with his left orb and turning on heels to fixate his scowl onto the talented Witch Alexandria opening his maw to another show of his words. At this time, the tentacles further constricted the women adding an extra twenty pounds of pressure to their ensnarement. It took about only five more pounds to break a single bone. "You've now become the prey should I boast that to you? Attack a man outright for spectating the Forest do you? Tsk, tsk. Shame on the both of you. Why I am Martis from the Choisel Coven in the Glen, answering to a beacon for aid when I was met by the spectral of a witch named Luna. She told me that there were others searching her out, that's when I ran into you's I suppose. But, now that I have your attention .... Do me well. Why should I let you lot return to your sister, when the Master could utilize both for his collection?"
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