Chapter 1: 'The Red City'

[Chibi-Teddo]

Falacia, the Red City lies in the foothills, and has been the center of major conflict. It’s the home base for coal mining and logging expeditions. The railway between the City and the farthest lying camp(mine?) is one of the most dangerous segments of the whole railway system. The residents are hardy, and eager to defend their supply lines. In general they think of the Lycans as stupid beasts that are in their way. They see this “war” as extermination, with the Lycan as the pest.
Humans in this city are treated more like soldiers. The vampires are in command, and supremely more powerful, and the humans know it. But in return for utter obedience the vampires never send an expedition out without at least one vampire to protect it. And they make certain that those who risk everything for their masters have a nice soft bed to return to, and a warm meal waiting back at the City.

Outside of the public eye, the vampires are on edge. Recent expeditions into the woodlands have revealed a startlingly large population of Lycans. Believed to have been eliminated centuries ago, the population seems to have rebounded, and is now larger than ever. So large, in fact, that their habitat has reached out of the woods and into the desert. Reports of woodsmen and hunters being brutally mauled and devoured by giant, bear-like creatures have begun to stack up on the desks of the governors. Secretly formed vampire attacks meant to subdue the lycans have met with little success. In fact, it seems to only serve to further aggravate lycan attacks. Furthermore, the aristocracy seems to have taken a despondent interest in their ‘cleanliness’. Humans are often turned, and unable to control their new vampiric forms, turn to lives of murder and madness.

Falacia has recently come to a problem. The city, originally built over a massive store of coal and mineral wealth, has been falling back on production. Mine shafts must bore deeper and deeper into the earth, and countless men die in cave-ins. The leaders of Falacia have decidedly chosen to find a new location for their industry to harvest.

There was one solution to the problem. To the south is a forest, and it was found that the forest has a great deal of coal, more than was under the city before steam came around. The only issue is it is a sacred ground for the werewolves. The human population believes the forest haunted, even though they won't say it, and are reluctant to go in without proof otherwise. Other villages surround the forest, but none touch foot in it due to the same fears. The city has strip mined the outskirts of the forest, but the vast deposits in the nearby hills are yet untouched. The vampires, however, need that coal to keep their safety. On the other hand, it was thought another form of power could be found. Several great vampire and mortal scientists work day, and a lot of nights, looking for this mythical source of power.

The lycans have lived lives of peace and harmony within the foggy, dark woodlands for almost a century now. However, in recent years, life has taken a turn back to the old hardships. The population, unable to maintain itself on the limited land remaining to them, has begun to encounter numerous problems. Lycans are losing habitat to the humans. Exhausted for resources, some clans have even turned to attacking each other… or humans. Much to the dismay of the lycans, these rebellious factions have brought them back under the scrutiny of the vampires. Seeing them as beasts that prey on their subjects, the vampires are once again about to renew their feud with the werewolves... indeed, it seems like the entire world could be devoured in a frenzy of clockwork chaos and elemental wrath.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Steam and smoke rose in great vaporous clouds over the huddled mass of buildings etched into the side of the great sandy dune. Though it was deep in the night, the hiss and roar of locomotives permeated the air. Indeed, the stream of coal, ore, and lumber flowing into the city seemed to be carried on a constant river of steam and steel, tributaries in the southern forests meeting at the main junction and flowing en mass into the great lake which was Falacia. From there the tide of supplies was carried across the land, trickling out to the neighboring cities and towns.

Over the hiss of steam engines, however, something more human could be heard. A formation of men, armed to the teeth, marched in perfect step, their boots clicking against the ground in dull unison. Their faces were obscured, but for their eyes, by the thick turbans which kept the sand out. As quickly as they had come, they disappeared around a street corner, leaving nothing but the distant clicking echo in their wake. As the street grew quiet once again, the shadows themselves seemed to relax, releasing their grip on the small street lamp that marked the corner that the men had disappeared around.

In the woods beyond the city, nothing moved but for the ever constant river of steam and steel. The forest seemed to hold its breathe, as if in anticipation of some long-expected storm...  

[Ellenoir]

-BANG BANG BANG- “Sir?!” –BANG- “Master Montresor! Sir, please unlock this door! I know the plans for the new rail-line are important, but you haven’t been out in nights!” Clover sighed and leaned her forehead against the oaken doorframe; this was not the first time she’d had to do this. She spoke loudly into the crack between the door and wall. “Look, there’s a gathering tonight. Why don’t you go? Rest, take your mind off your projects, that way you can look at them with fresh eyes later…” Silence. She thought she heard movement beyond the door, but it was hard to tell. “…I heard that Lady Laurent was going to be in attendance tonight.” She had heard no such thing, she had however heard that her former mistress was in the City, and unless there was something more glamorous going on she probably would be there.

She leaned there waiting for the vampire to open the door. He would, eventually, he always did. It's so difficult, making sure he goes out and stays fed. Sometimes I wonder if it wouldn't be easier to just feed him myself, but no, that's how servants die. If there were more of us maybe... I wonder if he'll let me hire a few to help out, by the time I've cleaned to one end of the house the other needs to be cleaned again, and no on lives here!  

[Ikken Isshu]

((Hehehehehe. This post was fuuuuuun. Not for the squeamish or homophobic. xd ))

A darkened apartment, middle class Falacia

In the recesses of the apartment, which had once again grown dusty over the weeks since its sole inhabitant had moved so much as a muscle, there was not a sound. Dully glittering objects lined shelves and shelves that filled the apartment; thuribles, crucifixes, reliquaries, tablets with exotic heiroglyphics, and more filled the lavish apartment.

There was something vaguely resembling a human in one corner, nestled comfortably in an overstuffed armchair, but it was so swathed in dark fabrics that only the lower half of its marble-white face, and its stony fingers, could be seen. But, after nearly a month of inert thought, the statuesque figure stirred. First the head turned to the left, and a subtle pop-pop-pop-pop could be heard. The head went to the right, and the same pop-pop-pop-pop sounded throughout the silent apartment. The figure leaned forward, slowly pushed itself out of the chair. It took a slow step forward, then another. Very slowly, as if afraid it might injure itself, the figure reached up with both hands - the sleeves of the black cloth fell back to reveal arms as smooth and white as the hands - and pulled a hood back. The face thus revealed would have instantly evoked images of Michelangelo's David to anyone old enough to have seen the artwork before it was destroyed. The figure's hair, though, far from being curly and white, was short, dark, and crisply cut. Of course, he hadn't had to cut it in ages.

Sometimes he wished he had been given a chance to grow his hair out before being bitten... But only sometimes. He had long since lost the vanity that would have made him truly lament his appearance like that.

He was more concerned with his ultimate fate - and with the reasons for his confinement in his cursed flesh. He didn't hate himself or his fate, per se - no, he was nearing the beginning of his third century of a vampire, and he had long since gotten over his burning anger at the fate given to him. Sometimes he still raged against destiny, because sometimes he wondered if that anger had been doused by the fate itself - the curse of the Lasombra.

He gazed around at the interior of the apartment.

"God," he muttered, and he could have been praying or simply grumbling, "I hate this place."

Moving slowly all the while, as if the lethargy of inertia for nearly a month had seeped into his very bones, the vampire traversed the floor to the entrance.

This was just another reason why his kind disdained him: While they indulged themselves in manors and suites, he contented himself with this modest abode. Of course, he needed extra space for all of his treasures, but beyond that, he had very little. His chair. A small library with the collection of books he had decided that he could not part with - which was rather small, considering that he had had almost 200 years to build such a collection. But beyond that, all he possessed were his treasures. Religious, cultural, and philosophically significant artifacts from all over the world, wherever he had been able to procure them.

Just another reason for vampires to dislike him: They didn't understand his interest in religion and philosophy, or perhaps they refused to understand it. Did it frighten them? Disgust them? Confuse them? He didn't know. He wasn't inclined to try to find out, either, because other vampires were as distasteful to him as he was to them. Stupid, simple creatures... They lusted after power, and the gratification of their perverse lusts... The indulging of an unholy hunger...

He stopped, shook his head. He was beginning to fall into the familiar patterns of thought which could go on for weeks. He needed to feed - it was the sharp pangs of blood thirst that had drawn him from his thoughts in the first place. He didn't have the luxury of falling back into those patterns of thought until after he had fed.

He exited the apartment and moved down into the streets, slipping among the people with nary a glance in his direction from the stupid sheep. Who to take - who to take?

The last two times he'd risen, he'd taken women - before the last time, it had been an aged woman with wiry grey hair and dilated eyes that saw only vague shapes of the world. He still didn't know what had made him choose her. It could well have been pity, but he didn't think that was it. The woman, while her body would have repelled most, had attracted him as he had not been attracted in years. She had been old, of course, possibly old enough to have witnessed the beginnings of society's rebirth. She'd not been the 'wise old woman' who had come to terms with her age and the nearness of death, but rather, a bitter, sad woman who had endured much and come to terms with very little of it. But when he'd taken her... When he'd swept that old crone into his arms, and she had looked up and seen his face... His smooth, white, angelic face...

She had smiled, and a tear had slipped from her eye. He hadn't realized how moved he had been until a blood tear had fallen from his own eye and marred her peaceful expression of death with the tiny splatter of red.

And the last one he'd taken... She had been a simple thing, a beautiful girl who did not belong in this day and age. If only she had been born two hundred years earlier... Her flesh was fair and smooth, her hair lush and blonde, her expression innocent. But when he'd taken her, she'd shown her true colors. He hadn't expected her to throw her arms around him, to cleave so firmly to him... And when he'd knelt to give her his kiss of death, she'd instead given him a different kind of kiss, one which had captivated him for nearly a minute before he finally parted their lips and stared into her lonely eyes. Was she really so desperate for a companion? He could give her that companion... But it was his own arbitrary judgment that denied her that chance at friendship. He had wondered, at the time, if he might regret it later. Looking back, he did not.

Now he scanned the streets.

I think I will find a man this evening, he thought to himself as he walked. It has been too long since I've felt a man's flesh beneath my fingertips.

Making the decision abruptly, he maneuvered himself next to his mark, and took advantage of the press of the crowd to take the young man's arm, pull him deftly into an alley as they passed, and cover the young man's mouth before a sound escaped it. He pulled the man into the shadows and had him up against the brick wall in a moment.

"You already know what I am," the vampire murmured. The young man hesitated, then nodded. His eyes widened slightly with recognition. "Do you want to die?"

The youth's eyes widened further, and the vampire could see the thoughts behind his eyes, but he neither nodded nor shook his head.

"Good. You know better than to make a rash decision. But no decision is a decision." His half-lidded eyes searched the youth's, trying to find something, but he didn't know what. Then, succumbing to impulse, he leaned forward, inhaling deeply the youth's scent.

"Don't scream," he growled into the youth's neck, and removed his hand. "What's your name?"

"Th - Therol," the young man said softly. The vampire heard the question in Therol's voice, and would have answered it anyway.

"Caecus," he growled, still bare inches from the boy's throat. He could smell the blood pumping beneath the young flesh. "What do you know about vampires, Therol?"

"Wh - what do I know? Um... Th - they need blood to survive. Can't go in the... in the sunlight."

"Textbook answers," Caecus muttered, and nicked at Therol's collarbone with a fang. Blood trickled out of the tiny wound, staining Therol's white shirt. Caecus touched the wound lightly with his tongue, felt the lightning bolt of sensation arc through his entire body at that small taste. It had been a while.

He heard a small whimper from Therol, and allowed himself a smile. He pushed himself away a foot or so.

"You're not going to beg for your life, are you?" Caecus asked, once again searching Therol's face for his thoughts, and finding only fear.

"N - no," Therol whispered.

"Why not?"

"W - wouldn't do any - any good."

Caecus grinned. "Do you think I'll kill you?"

Therol's brow furrowed slightly. "You - you're not going to?"

He leaned forward and once again licked the blood away from the wound. It had already stopped bleeding. He slowly, sensuously licked it clean. "I didn't say that. You know, your blood is delicious... I'm sorely tempted to drink every last drop that I can squeeze out of you."

The boy went very pale, but Caecus just laughed softly. "Tilt your head back, Therol."

Shaking visibly, the young man obeyed. His pale throat seemed to gleam in the moonlight. Caecus wasted no time in sinking his fangs deep into the flesh, and just like the vampires from the old, forgotten Anne Rice books, he didn't let a single drop spill from his lips. After some time, he bit his own tongue, let a few drops of his own blood fall on the wounds. They closed, and he kissed the blood away as if Therol were a lover.

"There," he murmured seductively, "now you can be one of us. All I need to do is drink a little more... and then give a little back. Would you like that, Therol? Would you like the power that comes with our blood?"

Slowly, Therol shook his head. His movements were slow, uneven. He was having trouble keeping himself awake. Caecus had taken a lot of blood.

"Would you like to die, Therol? Only a few more minutes of my attention, and you can slip quietly, gently down into oblivion, and whatever awaits you there."

Therol shook his head again. "Not... death," he murmured, almost pleading.

"Then what about being my slave? I'd be a kind master. I may require a few drops of your blood now and then, but..." He licked away a stray droplet. "...that wouldn't be so bad, now, would it?"

Therol didn't respond for a few moments, but then, "Please..."

"Please what?" Caecus said suddenly. "Don't beg me for things, Therol. You won't get them."

Therol shrank back from the outburst, and Caecus leaned forward. His cheek pressed against Therol's, and with one hand, the vampire reached down to press his palm against the front of Therol's trousers. "I told you, I'm a kind master..."

"No."

Caecus could feel anger welling up inside him, but before it could break, it was overcome by his damned curse - Apathy. Sloth.

"Get away from me," he murmured, stepping back away from Therol. "Just go. The effect of that bite won't leave you... Kill yourself if you must. Just get out of my sight."

The youth didn't need to be told twice. Caecus heard his footsteps carrying him away, but he saw nothing but the wall, his hands, newly flesh-toned, the filthy ground.

This filthy place. "I hate this place so much," he whispered, and leaned back against a garbage container. Tilting his head back, Caecus stared up at the night sky, and closed his eyes.

 

[Chibi-Teddo]

[[ I have maps of Falacia drawn up, just need to scan them over. 2 notes I'd like to emphasize: Put your location like we do in Alvirad. Also, Falacia is a desert city strongly controlled by the Baali. The culture is middle eastern. ...and El, why did she have to be a red-head? I'm crazy about red-heads. xD ]]

Manor Montresor, Vampire Ward, Falacia

The room was dark but for the faint rays of moonlight and sulphur sparks shining through the long, oddly shaped windows. Barren but for a long, arching table that followed the path of the windows, the room lay silent. Ticking along quietly on it's automated track, the workstation covered in books and papers lay untouched, dusty. The clockwork chair which worked in similar fashion to the station held a pale, statuesque figure. Pale as marble, he sat motionless, staring into space. The only sign of life were the eyes which seemed to glow red in the darkness. Suddenly, the room was disturbed by a series of BANGs on the door.

The statue trembled, making a sharp crackling sound as if the stone it was made out of was breaking apart. With a snap, one anemic hand broke free of the chair arm, as if it had been bolted down all it's life. Dust sprang up from the spot. The crackles persisted for a few moments, until the statue at last seemed fully alive. Tuluth vi Montresor slowly rose from his seat, trembling as if this walking statue had been given life for the first time. Apprehension slowly crept into the glowing red eyes.

Tuluth yawned dully, mulling over what Clover was saying. He didn't care for what she was saying so much as the underlying meaning: she wanted him to get up and move around. He closed his eyes for a moment, considering the physical labours of doing so. Clover mentioned a name, and his eyes opened ever-so-slightly. So that was why she wanted him to go... He was aware of her fondness for her previous master, despite his own reservations about Laurent.

Begrudgingly, Tuluth walked slowly to the door, his bones cracking arthritically as he went. The awkward sound would go away once he fed. He opened the door a crack, and peered out. All he could see was Clover's orange mess of hair and white maid's hat. He wasn't really sure why she wore the uniform still... he could have sworn he'd told her he didn't care much what she did or how she dressed, just as long as she kept the estate in order. Or had he? So often he lived reality in his own mind sitting in that chair, he forgot what was real and what was daydream.

He cleared his dry throat, and spoke a bit hoarsely, whispering out the crack. "I'm taking you with me, put on something nice." he muttered. He kept the door ever-so-slightly open, hanging back in the shadows of the dark room.
 

[chelpi]

On the Streets, Falacia

The young succubus' lips molded tightly to his mouth, silencing him. It was hard being child-sized that she had to press herself so tightly to this body, grappling for anything to hold her down to the man. He struggled against her fierce grip. She pried his mouth open and began to drain him of his life force. A humans last exhale of breath was like sweet music to her that it sent shivers down and then all the way back up her spine. His grip released on her and his empty body slid across the building that supported him in his final moments.

“Mr. Faust.”

Anastacia dusted her frilly pink dress off, as if she would ever allow herself to get a stain on her dress. Her hands began going to work, tightening the twin black bows in her hair. Hands combed through her hair, an odd habit that had no needing to be performed, never was a hair out of place for the past ninety-eight years of her life. Her pair of ashen eyes flickered over at the body thrown in a heap to the side. This corpse was worthless to her now, perhaps it was always the fleeting feelings she held for her victims that drew her to them. He had struggled against her too much that he had to be quickly done away with.

The man had fought back rather nicely, but she liked the easy ones. The ones who pleaded for life made her all the more excited to devour their souls. Some even liked the pleasure of it all, before Anastacia bestowed upon them a lethal kiss. But this one, this one spoiled her show. She only had the chance to feed on his soul and nothing else. It angered her beyond words, he was beautiful too, such a shame. She would not permit herself to sketch any part of this retched man.

"Come now, you can't be too mad with me." Anastacia persisted, as she lithely bent down to snatch up her gray rabbit doll. "After all, he was making too much noise."

Quietly, she held him out in front of her face, immersing in the wise words of Mr. Faust. She gave a cheeky grin to Mr. Faust and left the beautiful corpse where it was. Anastacia was forgiven as she held Mr. Faust close to her chest in a tight embrace. When someone would discover the man, there would be absolutely no physical damage done, so what had happened to him?

"Where to now?" Anastacia spoke aloud in a musical voice. She was fluid in her movements, so much so, that it seemed to everyone around her that her feet barely grazed the ground. Anastacia's vision dusted across the city before her. There was no place to go in a town after seeing it all after five years. She idly played with the idea of going to a new town soon. To passer byers it may have seemed as though she had gone mad and started speaking to a ghost. "Well, that's not a very specific location, Mr. Faust."

She still hungered for a body underneath her.  

[Ellenoir]

(( Ooh, maps! I lurves maps.. Yeah, at some point once I get into the groove of my schoolwork, I'll start making maps again. And I had no idea Teddo. However, I find it highly amusing that Clover ended up as your character's servant in light of that fact.. So I guess you really liked that nurse in The Dark Knight then?))

Manor Montresor, Vampire Ward, Falacia

Clover twitched in surprise as a hoarse cough sounded not far from her head.
"I'm taking you with me, put on something nice." She looked up surprised, going with? Something Nice? She opened her mouth to ask a question, but changed her mind. Instead she curtsied to the doorway, “Right away, Sir… And, please don’t forget to turn down the burners, if you had any experiments running. A repeat of last time would be most unfortunate, Sir.” She took off at a calm pace down the corridor to her cubby of a room, but once she was out of earshot she broke into a run. When she got there she was only slightly out of breath. Unlocking the door she entered into a small, but cozy space filled with the ticking of clocks.

She squeezed past her workbench, pausing to light the lamp there; then down the narrow walkway between her bed and the wall to open her chest of drawers. “Cogs’n’bloody’bolts. Something nice? Nice by the standards of a lord’n’lady’s outing? Do I have anything like that?” She began systematically going through her drawers. Most of them were full of old and worn clothing, oversized, soft, and comforting. “No, that’s the work drawer.” She shut a drawer that had various stained garments and half-finnished gizmos on one side, and neatly stacked notebooks on the other. “I must have something left over from Lady Laurent. I can’t have used it all for scraps.” When she finally got to the bottom drawer she pulled something out, “… Maybe.”  

[Chibi-Teddo]

Manor Montresor, Vampire Ward, Falacia

Tuluth looked after the girl patiently as she walked away. He heard the rapid taps ring through the silent house as she ran downstairs. Slowly, deliberately, he opened the door and headed for his own room. He creaked like a rusty door hinge as he walked down the stairs to his chambers, which he rarely used.

The room was spotless and pristine. Clover had done her job well. Montresor strolled over to his walk-in closet and pushed the door open. The musty air smelled like a crypt. Eyes glowing in the darkness, he drifted to the back of the closet and reached his hand knowingly in between a winter cloak and some hideous fur suit. From the crevice, he pulled a very rustic, antiquated suit. The aged corduroy had a charming appearance, like the surface of a comfortable old armchair. It was one of the only things in the closet he'd worn since he moved to Falacia 30 years ago. Quietly, he donned the suit in the darkness.

Several minutes later, he stood patiently on the second floor landing, looking patiently down at the foyer below him as he waited for Clover to appear. The image of a statue-like man in the antiquated suit made him look like something on display in a museum. He stood, hunched forward, hands behind his back, stock still. His eyes stared absently into space.

He recalled Clover had hesitated when he told her she was coming. Though he'd lived for a long time, Tuluth had less experience with people than a child. He could only assume she had some odd feeling about going.
 

[Ellenoir]

Manor Montresor, Vampire Ward, Falacia
I don’t know. I haven’t worn anything like this before… Never got a chance to before Lady Laurent sent me to this place.. She ran her hands up and down her forearms, a nervous gesture, she felt naked without any sleeves covering her pale, freckled arms. The dress was satiny to the touch, plain and simple in cut. No buttons, it just slid on over her head, and though it wasn’t meant to it looked just fine with her corset cinched over it. But it was sleeveless, with a v-neck that exposed her collar bone. It felt like she was about to go greet the world in nothing but her bloomers.

“I need a jacket. Why wouldn’t she have given me a jacket to go with this?” Clover muttered, but she knew why. Servants were as much for convenient snacks as they were for menial tasks. Of course, a vampire would have to have permission from the servant’s master, but if Lady Laurent had given her garments so inviting to such things… Did I really anger her, or did she just not care, or was it for herself? Clover sighed, trying to understand the motives of vampires was far too confusing.

She blew out the lamp and locked her door, and placed the key back on its hook, dangling like jewelry from her corset’s hem. The corridor was dark, but she was used to that; After four years she knew where most of the furniture was, and had no fear of running into it in the dark. She passed a parlor, filled with moonlight, and then doubled back. There was a lacy thing draped over the back of a chair. She picked it up and shook the dust off. It was about the right size for a shawl. Folded in half and resting on her shoulders, the black lace felt cool against her skin. It wasn’t much protection, but it made her feel a lot less naked; self conscious, by far, but not so bare.

She stepped into the moonlit foyer, looked around. Well at least he isn’t waiting for me, perhaps he forgot. Her gaze swept upward and lit on the figure whose glowing eyes had surely caught sight of her by now. She clutched the lace tighter about her, bloodydamncogs. Swallowing her nervousness she walked to the foot of the stair. “If we could stop by the post office, I have not picked up tonight’s telegrams as yet, Sir.”  

[Chibi-Teddo]

Manor Montresor, Vampire Ward, Falacia

Tuluth's eyes remained fixed on the spot he had been staring at for a moment. When Clover spoke, they slowly moved back into focus. "Hmm? Yes... of course, of course. Take the horseless carriage, meet me at the Gathering Hall when you're done. I'm afraid I'm in rather dire need of some nourishment... I'll be there directly."

With that he hobbled down the stairs, appearing like a puppet from the jerking, unnatural movement of his body. It had been ages since he'd drunk. He was parched. His eyes lingered confusedly over Clover for a moment. She was dressed very oddly. Come to think of it, he couldn't recall any other occasion on which he hadn't seen her in anything but her maid's uniform, or when he occasionally saw her returning from the lower wards in her plainclothes. It was strikingly peculiar, to say the least, to see the girl looking any different.

He walked past her to the front door, opening the massive wooden structure with ease. In an instant he was through, the door closing with an audible shudder behind him. Stepping into the early night air, the desert draft chilled him to the bones. He'd forgotten how cold the... outdoors... could be. Absently, he held his hands up to his chin, and the shadows around him danced for a moment before stretching to his will. A wispy cloak of shadow came around over his back and arms. Despite the fact that it was no warmer than the air, he felt a prickling reassurance from the familiar Abyss.
 

[Ronyo Storm]

Forest outside Falacia

A lone leaf falls from a tree lit by the moon’s rays, the only hint that something is stirring in the forest canopy. A clawed foot plants down on a nearby branch while its twin leans heavily on the base trunk. Slowly but decisively a long bow comes slightly into view, but leaves and branches come out of it in such a way that anyone passing by would think it just an odd branch. An odd branch now notched with an arrow and being pulled back. A breeze pushes the branches away and a pair of eyes can be seen sighting down the shaft of the arrow. As the breeze stops and the branches swing back into place the arrow is released and sent sorrowing threw the forest to slam into the side of a large elk, the creature dropped almost as soon as the arrow hit.

The same clawed feet that planted on the branch now hit the ground with a silent thud. The Lycan through his long green cloak over his shoulders and slung his bow. With silence befitting a hunter he approached the fallen animal and knelt by it. In one solid motion the Lycan’s hand pulled the arrow out and whipped it on the elk’s fur. The hunter hung his said and said a small prayer for the fallen creature and thanking it for providing food for his people. Then the elk was over the Lycan’s shoulders in an instant and being carried back to the main camp to be prepared.

Coming into a clearing the Lycan peered out into the night at the city below. Only a few low fire lights dotted the city this night but the Lycan sensed something amiss. His nose twitched and his ears flicked. He looked closer to see a form running out of the city like the devil himself was behind him. After moments the running figure tripped and fell to the ground in a rolling mess. The Lycan sniffed the air and could smell the human’s fear, the man’s fear. Something else though too, something mixed in with that fear, with a deeper inhale the hunter caught the stench. It was vampire blood mixed with human, a smell that all Lycan’s understood. The human was on its knees now looking at its hands covered in small amounts of blood from its neck. The elk hit the ground as the hunter’s bow came around and notched an arrow. As soon as the shaft was pulled back it was released without hesitation and slammed through the man’s heart with the same force that had downed the elk. The form slumped back to the ground it had fallen to and laid very still.

The elk was hoisted back up and the Lycan hunter continued on his way. To him wither the man was going to turn or just bitten would have made little difference. If he was about to turn then he did the man a favor and a service to the world, if he had just simply been bitten then the man would surely have died or contemplated killing himself with the horrible thought of ‘what if he turned’ looming in his head. If that be the case then the hunter had helped the poor creature out of its misery. Without another thought on the matter Uurfu picked up his pace back to his pack. The smell of the city was starting to bother him and the elk needed to be prepared.

((OOC: hope you don’t mind me cleaning up after you Ikken ))  

[Ikken Isshu]

((Not a problem, Ronyo. My post was more for angsty introspection on Caecus' part than anything to do with that guy. xd ))

Near Manor Montresor, Vampire Ward, Falacia

Caecus wandered the streets languidly. He'd attained a certain level of control over his curse, but sometimes it was nice to slip back into old patterns; to slip back into the slow, sleepy movements of one only half-present in the waking world. His thoughts slowed to a crawl, his motions to a snail's pace. The word almost seemed to speed up around him as he began to relapse into his thought patterns, his idle and slow musings on the things that none of his blood would countenance. Truth. Loyalty. Time.

God.

He eventually passed a point where, left to his own devices, he would not have moved a muscle for at least a month. He hadn't intended to lapse into such a state in the middle of the street, but obviously, he had ceased to care by the time he realized he had done so. However, he was not to be left to his own devices, because not long after he reached that point, a figure crossed his line of sight which sparked a memory of recognition in the recesses of his mind.

Montresor... b*****d.

Caecus came spiraling up out of the trance as if falling in reverse, his mind catapulting itself back into awareness like a volcanic bubble rising from the depths of the sea.

"Tuluth," he said, approaching the vampire with a slow and steady gait. "I don't suppose you would remember me, by any chance?" He spread his arms, displaying himself. His clothing was dusty, but of an eloquent cut that showed he was no man of ordinary means. He only half-expected Tuluth to recognize him, but even the possibility...

 

[Ellenoir]

(ooc: So I'm going to make shtuff up and assume that the post office is in a completely different direction from you two, Ikken and Teddo.
And here's an opportunity for Elvyre to hop into some interaction if she so desires! But you don't have to, could just be some random urchin, but oh, I'm spoiling things!)

Manor Montresor, Vampire Ward, Falacia
"Hmm? Yes... of course, of course. Take the horseless carriage, meet me at the Gathering Hall when you're done. I'm afraid I'm in rather dire need of some nourishment... I'll be there directly."

“Of course, Sir.” Clover looked on, trying to keep the pity out of her expression as her master hobbled down the stairs. She could only imagine how uncomfortable he must be. Poor thing… I really shouldn’t let him get to this point, but it’s so difficult to keep track of him, his contacts, and the house. She watched him leave, flinching as the door slammed under its own weight behind him. After waiting a moment to see if he forgot anything, she went and locked it behind him. He should have a key, and if he didn’t, well there were other ways in that he surely knew about that a common burglar wouldn’t.

With a sigh she strolled to the back entrance of the manor, picking up a lantern along the way, and out into the cold night air. I haven’t taken the carriage anywhere in weeks… I’m tempted to just take my uni-wheel, but on the off-chance that Master Montresor wants to drive home that would be a bad idea. She opened up the shed that housed the horseless carriage, a strange contraption driven by a steam engine. Personally, Clover preferred clockwork, but it was very difficult to get clockwork to run large objects at higher speeds.

It took her a minute but she soon had the carriage pulled out of the shed, engine fired with coal and the guide lantern lit at its front. And after adjusting the seat so that she could reach all the pedals and levers with ease, she went and locked up the shed and servant’s entrance. All in all, it took her five minutes to get out onto the roads of Falacia, and would take her another five to get to the post office. Clover relished the night breeze, bitter cold though it may be, as she bounced along down the road. Wait, is that a little girl? What is she doing in this part of town? At this hour? It was hard to see, the child was at the far edge of the carriage’s lantern light.  

[Chibi-Teddo]

Near Manor Montresor, Vampire Ward, Falacia

Tuluth crept through the shadowy streets. He walked in silence for several minutes, not a soul crossing his path. As he rounded a corner, he caught a glimpse of a strange statue standing on the opposite end of the road. He thought nothing of it... until it called his name. Not even his surname, but his given name. Few had ever bothered to call him by it. He paused, turned.

The vampire before him spread his arms as if in presentation. The only aspect that he recognized was the obvious pallor of a fellow Lasombra. He blinked disinterestedly. "Not to my recollection, no. I'm on my way to a prior engagement, so if you don't mind..." Tuluth honestly didn't much care who it was. It wasn't a relative, and they were the only members of his clan he really ever bothered with. Of course, it had been a while since he'd even spoken to them. Decades, in fact...

He gave a somewhat dismissive wave to the vampire, and hobbled along on his way. Distractions were such a nuisance. He really didn't care much for anything that didn't involve him. Or, rather, that didn't involve his work. The only reason he was even out of the house was, in fact, to keep himself from starving. More out of his servant's insistence than his own.
 

[Ikken Isshu]

Near Manor Montresor, Vampire Ward, Falacia

Ignore it. Shrug it off. Go on my way. Leave him alone. It doesn't matter. Nothing does. It isn't important. He's forgotten. I should forget too.

Fuel that anger, he thought suddenly. It was one of the few ways he knew to stave off his curse. He had to work at the anger to sustain it, when indolence constantly chipped away at it, but he'd had a long time to learn to circumvent his curse.

And, curse aside, Tuluth did piss him off.

"Ungrateful b*****d," he growled, reaching out with his control over shadows. He knew Tuluth could manipulate the shadows in the same fashion, but it didn't matter; he would make his point regardless.

The shadows reached out to Tuluth's back and grabbed him by the shoulders, spinning him around.

"You've really forgotten me, haven't you? I suppose people like you only pay much attention to others when it's convenient, eh? Well, though it's been a while, I think I'll walk with you. Maybe I can jog your memory." He spoke a little scathingly, still trying to maintain the anger that was tapering off quickly. As he walked forward, he touched the shadows once more. Minuscule cilia reached into the fabric of his clothing and extracted the dust, cleaning his clothes very effectively in a matter of seconds. By the time he reached the Montresor vampire, he looked as if he'd been dressed for a night out all along.

 

[Chibi-Teddo]

[[ Note: Elvyre is taking a leave of absence... indefinitely. You'll have to just pass her character by, El. ]]

The streets, Vampire Ward, Falacia

Tuluth raised an eyebrow as the man brought him wheeling about with a strong apparition of shadows. He could smell the unbeguiled anger in his voice as he called him a b*****d. Very unrefined... even for a Lasombra. He dusted off his shoulders with a dry look of mild disdain, and turned back up the street. "Do what you wish." he muttered, suppressing a yawn. The lethargy was dragging him down ever-so-slowly. If he didn't find a meal soon, he felt like he was going to collapse.

He carried on up the road, yawning once again. His mouth was dry with hunger, and the creak of his limbs reminded him of how long he'd been wasting away with every step. He didn't bother to look back at the other vampire, not even considering the fact that he seemed to know Tuluth quite well, and yet he didn't even know the man's name. Despite the vaguely aggressive tone he'd taken, Tuluth didn't really consider him harmless in any regard. Rude, yes. But a harmless madman.