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Count Darvaleth

I <3 marmite
True Blood
Apr 26, 2010
3,407
Darkness loomed over the Blood Bastion as the majority of is occupants prepared for the voyage. From the tower, Count Bloodfang swept his eyes across the assembled forces. The entirety of the household knights, bar only the newest and least experienced and a handful of mentors to teach them in his absence, stood proudly, bedecked in gleaming crimson armour and bearing the insignia of the Bloodfang family: the symbol of a great, slavering jaw, dripping with spilt blood. Already some of them began moving off towards the small fleet, their boots crunching across the shingles as they marched the short distance to their ships, the steeds having been taken already. The fleet was compact, but strong. Kraskor only hoped it would be enough.

A sinister, hissing sound emerged from behind the Count. Without turning, Kraskor spoke:

"Do not worry. We will be on our way soon. The fleet leaves within the hour," prompting a satisfied purr from the hidden voice. The Count had only a few matters to attend to now, and turned back into the tower, descending the stairs to the dungeon, where the elite were gathered. He had almost reached the chamber, when a trumpeting fanfare sounded from the castle gate. Irritated, Count Bloodfang hurried up the steps, fingering the Blood Ring as he did so.

A small coterie of warriors had entered the courtyard, headed by the trumpeters who had annoyed the Count so. Snarling at the intrusion, Kraskor was about to hurl his sword at the men before they bowed low. The small group of warriors stood aside, revealing a proud man who strode towards the Count. He was clad in leather armour, coloured both black and red, his left arm encased in plate armour and bearing two wicked-looking blades.

Count Azazrel approached Kraskor Bloodfang, bowing before offering his support in the endeavour to Naggarond. Bloodfang nodded curtly, before gesturing for him to follow Kraskor back into the castle and down towards the dungeon.

"I hope you do not mind, Count," said Bloodfang, "But I do hate trumpeters. Well, living ones anyway. You will not be needing your escort." Simultaneously, the men above were silently killed by the Skeletal Guard, Bloodfang's elite grave guard. [Respond to this how you will: you can either not care at all, or just acknowledge it and move on; they're only humans after all, and music players at that. Not much help in the Land of Chill. You may also speak to Kraskor, but he will reply abruptly and simply. You have a measure of control here.]

As the two Counts descended the stairs, a shadow swept out. Startled, Kraskor drew the Bloodfang, before the dark-leather clad figure bowed. Dietrich Mueller explained that he would not enter a prison room quite as willingly as the others until he saw Kraskor himself enter. Laughing, Count Bloodfang slapped the man's back, pushing the door open and entering the chamber.

In the centre was bound Raksha Ripclaw, held in place by chains. Behind him stood Draza Afanovich, watching his prize vigilantly. Around the room stood the rest of the assembled group. It was a small chamber, with a low ceiling, bare stone walls, but a strong oaken door with large bolts which could be pulled across from the outside, and a small viewing slit which could also be shut. Ripclaw was held in place by chains from his arms and legs to the walls of the chamber, where they were attached by sturdy metal rings. Finally, a small fire burnt in a grate built into the ceiling of the chamber; laced with sorcerous incense, the fire prevented the use of magic inside the chamber. It was the perfect prison, but certainly agitated Cedrick Hyrden as Frank turned a little poorly due to the balefire.

Count Bloodfang slammed the door shut behind him as the final members entered the chamber. Much to everyone's alarm, he drew the Bloodfang, slashing it downwards. The powerful chains binding Ripclaw fell away, the blade making short work of them. Draza seemed worried, but remained still when the freed vampire made no aggressive movement.

"You," spoke Kraskor, to the assembled vampires, "Are my personal vanguard. You have all come here to partake in a dangerous mission, which may see many of you fully dead." Bloodfang eyed each vampire one by one, looking for weakness. He found none.

"You may already have your reasons for accompanying me in this venture. Some of you, however," spoke Kraskor, eyeing Ripclaw in particular, "Do not. Yet." Kraskor grinned, turning back to the group.

"There is a prize beyond all imagining in the Land of Chill. Deep within Naggaroth, there is something we can only dream of acquiring. For the Blood Dragons," said Kraskor, eyeing Sir Gavin, Dietrich Mueller, and his eyes also temporarily lingering upon Mal'caor and Draza, "We will find the ultimate prize, something so... wonderful that we will never be the same again."

"For Ripclaw, the blessed power of utter self-control, and power also. Power which will no doubt appeal to Cedrick also." Kraskor turned to the remaining vampires: the von Carsteins.

"And as for you all," said Kraskor, "A gift beyond imagination."


Kraskor pulled back the door, and marched swiftly up the stairs. His voice echoed back down the stunned vampires:

"We leave today! Ready yourselves! Follow me to glory!"

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------



All: Even if you have not been addressed individually (and even then, this applies to you) there was plenty in that little speech to think about. There is also each other! You can speak to one another before Count Bloodfang arrives with Count Azazrel and Draza, and also remark on their appearance, as well as the other vampires in there already. Also, you have a chained-up Strigoi in the middle of you; surely that must mean something? I want feelings, thoughts, and then afterwards any action towards the stairs, following Bloodfang into the courtyard and towards the fleet, speak to him if you want.

Raksha Ripclaw: You have been captured previously, and have awaited the Count for two days now. The other vampires entered about fifteen minutes before the Count and the two other arrivals. You can see them as they enter; an interesting position. You can show your thoughts about each if you want, or just ignore them. However, please when you are freed, no sudden killing. Something in Bloodfang's speech appeals to you, whether it is the control you desperately seek, or, if you don't mind the blood-rages, more power to unleash once you enter the rage. Either way, something compels you to aid him.

Von Carsteins: You are all intrigued by what Bloodfang says to you specifically. You can also note what he says to others to appeal to them, but give you main focus to what he says to you. It is very mysterious, and has sent your imaginations into a spin; what could it be? It would be nice to see you all imagining different possibilities, and of course, wondering what it is that Bloodfang seeks so desperately.

Blood Dragons: Something so wonderful... ultimate. These words spiral through your heads. What could it be that demands such reverence from Count Bloodfang? Your thoughts, please.

Cedrick Hyrden: Power? Sounds good? And spoken with such reverence, it must be something big. Perhaps imagine what the source of such power could be? Or imagine what you could do with it?

Mal'caor and Draza: Do you wonder why Kraskor's eyes lingered on you two? Is it perhaps that neither are truly certain that you are Blood Dragons? (one maybe von Carstein, other truly a Necrarch) How do you feel about this? Do the other Blood Dragons know you aren't truly Blood Dragons? Do you wonder how Count Bloodfang knows? Perhaps ask him, and maybe ensure he keeps it secret? Thoughts please.



If I got any of the colours wrong, I'm sorry. It was bloody hard. xD Hope you like the first update, and enjoy the roleplay.
 

Malochai

Moderator
Staff member
True Blood
Aug 4, 2010
3,072
England
Bartram looked around, gazing upon the others in the assembled group. The first to catch his attention was the one who had been chained to the floor, Raksha Ripclaw. He looked unkempt, earning him disdain instantly. It was a ragtag group; nothing alike to the disciplined formations of knights that he kept drilled in the du Coudray Suggero. He continued to look over the others, and his eyes locked on another whom he gathered was from his homeland. He snarled, unhappy to be near another Bretonnian, and his canines cut into his lip, creating a jagged tear through it.

Another caught his attention, dark skin putting him apart from the rest. He seemed to wear a layer of chains over leather armour and this drew a derisive stare from the Bretonnian vampire, who was quite open with his condescending attitude. And then there was the Necrach, whom he had heard called Cedrick. He interested and disgusted Bartram at once, his eyes growing hard at the mere sight of him.

After eyeing up each of his 'companions', he left his mind drift to the prize that Kraskor had spoken of. Considering himself a mixture of Abhorash's line and the bastard line of von Carstein, he knew that this prize could mean wonders for him, but what it was, he'd have to find out. He set his mind loose with the possibilities. First, there he was, doing battle with hordes of the living, the undead, and creatures beyond imagining, tearing them down, both axe and sword carving swathes through them, and a second later he was sat on a throne, carved from the bones of his rivals, looking out over the old du Coudray lands in Parravon.

Shaking his head he brought himself back to reality, and started to make his way towards the stairs that Bloodfang had just climbed, with the intention of making his way to the fleet, but stopped. Something about the way that one of the vampires, the one Kraskor had entered with, whom he understood went by the name Azazrel, held himself grabbed the Bretonnian, and wouldn't let go. Bringing himself up to his full height, which still brought him shorter than Azazrel, he walked over and stuck out his hand. "I'm Bartram du Coudray, head of the du Coudray family, ruler of du Coudray Suggero. You have an air about you; more so than these others," he began before feeling something else. A faint burning on his skin. He recognised the sensation quickly enough, and hissed, revealing his fangs again. "You bring silver? Fool!"



OOC: Count Darvaleth, I hope that's OK, not used to RPing, or such a format. Hopefully, it's fine!
 

Sanai

Stylish Deviant
True Blood
Oct 30, 2009
5,193
Behind Darvy
Raksha waited uncomfortably, but silently, bound by his chains, as he glared at the others as they arrived. He tried a few times to twist his head around to see his captor, Draza, but could not turn enough in his bonds. The hairs at the back of his neck stood on end, feeling his captor's gaze upon him.
I thought this hunter would be prey in the end...... but he lived up to his goal.... perhaps in the end I will hunt him again

After what seemed an agitated eternity, more vampires arrived in the room, causing tension to flare up even more throughout Ripclaw's body.
Dangerous.... predators all of them, hunters...... hunters in the dark. Must run.... find dark place..... stalk them.... hide..... lure them away and kill them one by one

Ripclaw's fingernails grew and elongated, and his fingers and forearms bulked up, twisting into terrible claws, as he snarled, his teeth becoming longer and his eyes twisting into bitter, hateful orbs as he looked at the other vampires. He clenched his fists and pulled at his chains uselessly, before settling back into a still position, glaring at everyone in the room.

Later, three more vampires entered the room. Ripclaw roared in defiance as the count drew near and slashed his chains, but something stayed Ripclaw's hand as he turned to leap at the count. So Raksha Ripclaw warily stood, glancing around as the count spoke to them all. He narrowed his eyes as the count made great promises, and though he did not believe the count's claim, he decided to play along, to await a better opportunity to escape.
 

Capt Rubber Ducky

Vampire Count
True Blood
Jun 9, 2009
1,547
Azazrel turned as his men fell to the floor dead, before turning back to the Count "So hasty Blood dragon, those men would have made for an excellent small meal before we departed, wasted now" he remarked distastefully before descending the stairs behind him. Azazrel surveyed the room as he entered, a rag-tag selection of vampires he thought to himself. The creature just standing in the centre of the room intrigued him but before he could inspect it further one of the Blood dragons approached him.

"Bartram du Coudray" Count Azazrel took the vampires hand "Count Azazrel" he replied before continuing "I would not regard it foolish to bring silver when entering a Blood dragons stronghold, too meet with a court of vampires. I am not arrogant enough simply to think, should it come to it, I can escape by standard means so precautions must be taken." Azazrel turned away from Bartram "If you have no reason to cross me, then you have no need with worry".
 

Malochai

Moderator
Staff member
True Blood
Aug 4, 2010
3,072
England
"Do not turn your back to me, Azazrel," Bartram breathed, just loud enough to be heard. "It appears you have little honour. I was wrong; the air I spoke about has faded. Farewell for now." he said snidely, before bowing slightly, as was his way. Brusquely, he walked over to the stairs and climbed them quickly.

Walking into the courtyard, he gestured to Viktor and Elijah, his subordinates and stray vampires he'd adopted years ago. The fools were, as usual, not paying attention. His father had always been able to command the respect of his subjects, his will being done with just a gesture on his behalf. "Do not think of him, Bartram", he growled to himself.

Annoyed at how Elijah and Viktor were acting, he strode over to them and cuffed Viktor's ear, sending him sprawling. With an animal shout, the vampire jumped to his feet and drew his sword, swinging it around, only to have his Lord's longsword parry it, before, with a flick of his wrist, the younger vampire's weapon was sent spinning. As the Bretonnian's bloodlust and anger rose, his blade began to pulse with a blood-red glow.

"Do not raise your weapon against me again, cur," he spat. "Go, fetch me my lance, shield and helm, before I change my mind and skin you!" With that, Viktor scurried to where he had been ordered to deposit his master's belongings.

"Elijah, bring Abastor to me. I shall be taking my leave of this place. The fleet will be leaving soon," he ordered, the anger still in his voice, but ebbing. Bowing deeply, Elijah scurried off to the Blood Bastion's stables.

Now that his underlings had gone to do his will, he turned and walked to Kraskor. "Bloodfang," he began, bowing his head respectfully. "I have been summoned here, and came of my own will. However, I would know how you came about the information of this ... Item. I wish to go, for I am sure there will be much glory and honour and blood to be reaped; the Druchii hold no love in my heart, but it seems to be too perfect an opportunity. You are holding something back from us, and I resent that!"

Just then, Abastor could be heard, hooves echoing ominously on the ground of the courtyard. A nudge to his elbow reassured Bartram it was his steed, and he put a reassuring hand on Abastor's neck, before he launched himself onto the undead pegasus' jet black back.
Finally, Viktor returned, striding across the courtyard with his master's equipment. Elijah took the shield and passed it to Bartram, who slung it over his back, the red and white of his heraldry blocking the ornate blade of the axe also slung over his shoulder. Next, his lance was held up to him, the leaf-shaped blade glinting redly in the light of Mannslieb. Finally, his helmet was given to him, and he held it in the crook of his arm. "Viktor, Elijah," he said, voice commanding their instant respect. "You are dismissed, and are to return to du Coudray Suggero. The defence of the land is Orlando's duty. Until I return, the defence of Giselle is your responsibility. If anything happens to her, I will track you from Cathay to the New World. Understood?" he growled. They knelt before him, heads bowed, before rising and turning to the stables, mounting their own steeds and setting off out of Blood Bastion's gates, into the night.

Finally, satisfied they were gone, he expectantly looked down at Kraskor, awaiting his answer.

"And would you object to me scouting out ahead of the fleet?"
 

Dreadgrass

Necromancer
Dec 20, 2009
846
Mal'caor leant against a wall, apparently at ease with his surroundings, but those who were sharp of eye would note his eyes were always watching and his hand never far from a weapon.

He could not fail to notice the outright scorn evident in the eyes of the supposedly 'Noble' lords amongst the assembled party, and in the depths of his mind he began to doubt his purpose here.

"If blood and nobility are the cardinal virtues of these lords, then all I've heard of the mighty Blood Dragon order is a farce..." he quietly mused to himself, "Still, this Kraskor's promises of power are intriguing, plus he offers free passage to the lands of the Druchii, so I can tolerate the scorn of the ignorant... for now..."

Resolving to be the last to leave the dank cell, Mal'caor waits and observes his remaining 'companions,' taking in the panopoly of weapons and armour that hint at their chosen fighting forms.
 

Zanos

Vampire Count
True Blood
Jul 23, 2009
1,387
Gavin stood still with his arms crossed. This was very intriguing, the promises by Kraskor. There was also a beast, a Strigoi as he had learnt in his travels.

He walked over to a dark figure, leaning against a wall, (Mal'caor) and held out his hand. "I am Sir Gavin, the Bistre Noir. There's something odd about you. I can see the discipline of the Blood Dragon in you, yet there is something about you, I can't quite put my finger on. Worry not about the others, it seems that with age our kind get far more arrogant."
 

Samiel

Zombie
Mar 22, 2011
37
Dietrich looks around the room curiously at his fellow questers. The beast that had been chained seemed potentially dangerous and would need to be watched. His eyes followed Kraskor out of the room. He had heard of his exploits for many years. He was a worthy wariior to follow to Naggarond.

His cold blue eyes settled on Cedrik for a moment wondering what he had done to be worthy of an invitation to go on this expedition. He suppressed a laugh... Most of these in the room would be helpful in a fight anyways.

Dietrich pondered what they could be looking for.. ultimate. Coming from a vampire of Kraskor's reputation that meant a lot. The Druchii had masterful assasins amonst them. He hoped to test his skill against one. He took one last look at the group and walked in a slow gait up the stairs.

When he crested the stairs he saw Bartram cuffing his apparant servant and disarming him. A bemused smile slighlty creased his face as he watched this interaction. Looking past this scene he noticed the fleet drawn up. For the first time in years he felt excitement as a great challenge seemed to await. He walked towards Bartram as he heard him questiong Kraskor, wondering how he would react to this.
 

count kill alot

Vargheist
May 16, 2010
610
As Cedrick Hyrden entered the room he felt the balefires influence, seeing the disruption in the winds he hisses then mutters “blasted no use for my skills in here” he laughs then adds “I suppose I shall have to use my charms” while flicking his three hair strands to the side.

Scheming thru the room he notes the brutes in the room thinking to him self I doubt they’ll be of any intellectual stimulants, his pet climes out of his sleeve and runs up towards his ear “squeak, squeak”, he starts to laugh “yes Frank I suppose, but still the Von Carstain’s should be good for a laugh or two” but in the middle of the room now that’s an interesting specimen “how terribly intriguing” he says as he takes out his note book and starts to scribble down every detail noted.

Just then Count Kraskor Bloodfang and his companion entered the room yet more brutes he thinks to him self, but still this character speaks with some poise and his promises are far to tempting to resist, yet Cedrick knows the chances of having so many gifts that would appeal to each individual is impossible as he calculates the probabilities in his head.

As Count Kraskor Bloodfang walks out Cedrick looks at his pet and sighs “Dear Nagash you’re looking poorly Frank” he puts the creature down and say’s “run along and make shore not to talk to any strangers”.

“now where was I, oh yes,yes,………., the possibility’s” he mutters, well either he has great connections or he is making up story’s in which case that would make him mad, scratching his head he laughs “that position is already taken” he carry’s on laughing for awhile then comes to a holt, but still the mere fact that we will land on Druchii the birth place of the dark arts, think of what you can learn! and it would be nice to experiment on the pointy ears for a change the humans or so passé, he thinks to him self while a grin forms on his face, he sniffs for a bit then identifies something reminiscent of him self another Necarach, oh goodie, goodie an intellectual amongst us, but where could he be and how could I have missed him, he finally spots the guy with the chains and looks oddly at him, he starts to burst into laughter then says while trying to keep his composer “I shall see you all on the ship” then bursts into laughter again “A CROS DREASSING NEC,THIS I HAVE TO TELL FRANK, WHAT A HOOT” he walks up the stairs still laughing.
 

Dreadgrass

Necromancer
Dec 20, 2009
846
Mal'caor clasped the wrist of the proffered hand in the universal greeting between warriors. A faint flicker around the eyes is the only sign of his relief in finding at least one warrior amongst their party who wouldn't be arduous company.

"Well met Sir Gavin, I'm afraid I have no title to offer you in turn, but my name is Mal'caor. It means 'the spider' in the tongue of some Indish tribes."

His eyes flick about the remaining vampires, "It seems the esteemed count's recruitment officer can at least see past appearances, though I'm not certain the Count himself or many of our apparent allies have the same virtue. I have probably fought more battles then the majority of these gathered, looking back I have trouble remembering a time were I did not fight and kill, however, the vampire who granted me the gift of undeath was of a more... studious persuasion."

Pausing once again, Mal'caor pulled a hip flask with a kislevite insignia on it from his pocket and took a swig.

"Many vampires of more... noble bearing have ridiculed me for my origins, they're tongues have been silenced, one way or another. Still, I can tolerate much for a trip to the lands of the dark elves, not to mention this alleged 'reward."

It was then that Cedrick's comments reached his ears, the corners of his mouth turned up and he ignored the Necrach until he left the room.

With a conspirational wink to Sir Gavin he added, "That one however, might not see the shores of Naggaroth..."

He offered the flask to Gavin with a grin, "100% Kislevite maiden, I find they keep better, maybe it's the vodka..."
 

Zanos

Vampire Count
True Blood
Jul 23, 2009
1,387
Gavin politely waved the flask away. "Never been much of a drinker, my friend. And I wouldn't worry about that Cedrick fellow, he seems to have....issues of the mind. Something not very helpful in the land of the Druchii."

Gavin raised his hand to his chin thoughtfully, pausing for a moment, then continued, "What of this power the count promises? Is it truly all he makes it out to be, or simply a trap? The way he talks of it, it has something different for all bloodlines...so how would it affect you, or any other here of...'mixed blood'? Food for thought, I suppose..."
 

count kill alot

Vargheist
May 16, 2010
610
As Cidrek walks up the stairs he thinks to him self I doubt that it will be a separate gift for each, that would take ages to gather not to mention that their will be mutiny on the way if it takes too long, the brutes are not known for their patience and some are already making enemies with each other, that room was absolutely reeking of testosterone.

So what would be mutually beneficial for all hmmmm…., the books!!! Or the Liber Mortis! Now that would defiantly be something worth dieing for, baaahhhgggg impossible the books of Nagash have disappeared ages ago, and what of this Count Kraskor Bloodfang why would he shower us with gifts what is his gain in all of this I wonder?
Yes,yes,………, the answer must be laying with him so what is he after?
What was it they call them blood dragons, and who founded the order, think think what was his name “Abhorash” he says loudly yes that it, it was Abhorash who famously defeated the vampiric curse by drinking the blood of a dragon releasing himself from the blood lust, after conquering the dragon he told his brothers to go out and hone their combat skills until they are strong enough to defeat a dragon and his favorite was Walach Harkon, Count Kraskor Bloodfang must be on of the Ordo Draconis from The Empire how intriguing.

It makes sense drinking blood of a dragon will infact yield great power, Bloodfang and the other blood dragons will fulfill Abhorash’s will, the Strigio will release him self of the blood lust thus gaining control of his urges, the Von Carstain’s will gain the same as well as wealth from the dragons lair in which they can carry on with their high society life style, but I will gain great wisdom not to mention my arcane capabilities would enhance ten fouled, he grins the excitement apparent on his face as he inters the courtyard.

The winds of magic are flowing freely here “that’s much better” he say’s, his pet climbs sitting it self on his shoulder “Frank your looking spectacularly well, I see the fresh air has don you well, I had something to tell you but what was it” he pauses for a second “ohh yes,yes,……, you are not going to believe what I saw in their, wait for it, wait for it, a confused cross dressing Nec” and he bursts into laughter.

He spots the winged nightmare intrigued by it, then he thinks to him self there are more pressing matters at hand he walks up to Bloodfang bowing politly then says “forgive the intrusion but may I ask of this source of power you are referring to, it wouldn’t happen to be something scaly per chance?”
 

Chorus

Skeleton
Sep 29, 2010
70
Hans was led by a skeletal guard into the deepest part of the castle.Descending deeper , the doors the pair are passing were getting heavier and sturdier.
If you think i will be tricked this easy you are wrong my dear count.Having no use for his bow or sword in these narrow passages.He slowly reaches for his throwingaxe and dagger,ready to dispatch the guard.
The Sounds of chains and bestial growls was getting bigger.A sound he did hear but bearly paid any attention to was starting to getting interesting.Why would a person like count Kraskor keep a animal alive down here?
They stopped just in front of the door where all this noise came from.The guard opened the heavy wooden to it's full reach.Something that sounds like a scream a cougar would make when it was in pain and outraged at the same time Greeted them trough the just opened door.The guard then backed away three passes.Not of fear but of courtesy.Leaving a respecting distance between Hans,the door and himself.So that Hans could enter the room at his own terms and without the guard blocking his way.Still aware of a possible trap or betrayal Hans positioned himself before the door, so he could have a look inside the prison before entering it.
A muscular beast was chained with arms and legs to the walls.Behind it against the wall, was a person.Unmistakable a hunter like himself.It even seems to him that when the hunter looks at the chained creature, that looks more men then beast now, there is a prominent curl on his lips.To Hans this makes clear that the hunter is feeling justice , having pleasure in seeing this being chained, or had something to do with it.Now he looks closer, this chained being could be one of the legendary Strigoi.How could one feel pride in hurting one that is so similar then yourself?
Convinced that there is no trap, Hans stepped inside the cell and choose a nice place out of sight of the thing chained to wait for his host.Not long after he entered the room more came in.A dark skinned outlandish warrior stepped in.His chains wrapped around him where clearly weapons.While wondering how they would be used, his thoughts were disturbed by a crazy smelling figure.He mumbled some words to himself,start laughing and drew a notebook and started sketching.A knight entered the room blackened armor.This was a vampire story's would made be from.A dark presence with dark armor,sending fear straight trough a mens spine.
It couldn't be any more contrast when a flamboyant looking boy knight entered the room.
When the boy strode to his place, the host off the castle count Kroskar Bloodfang and two others entered the room.As soon as the door closed behind them,The count drew his sword and broke the chains on the strigoi.
After the speach Hans had a moment to let himself fully understand every word the count had spoken to them.he has to be sure no word has been lost.Only then he allowed himself to ponder on the words: "And as for you all,A gift beyond imagination."
What is it that i want?What is it that could benifit me?
Without an answer for himself, his attention was drawn , when the boy presented himself to one of the two who entered with count Kraskor.
When he heard Bartram got upset by a little something like wearing silver and the taking of.He couldn't help himself to judge Bartram as naive.Like Azazrel was the only one in the room that was using silver.
Hans finaly passes the strigoi on his way out and started wondering again.
What is it that makes count Kraskor make such promises?What makes him so sure he is going to find what He is looking for?
 

Amun Sengir

Ghoul
Apr 14, 2008
110
With a patience coming from years of hunting experience, Draza had been waiting silently along with the captured Raksha. When others entered the room, Draza offered little more than a nod by way of greeting. For him, the hunt was not over until his prize had been delivered to the count himself. He seemed to be uninterested, idly cleaning his fingernails with the tip of a dagger, but in truth his every muscle was tensed and ready to spring. The beast had been no easy catch, Draza knew full well that the chains would not hold forever should it try to escape, and the cramped room, with no space to maneuver was not the place he wanted to be with a rampaging varghulf.

Draza still did not relax when the count finally arrived, bringing with him more vampires. He was growing increasingly uncomfortable in the crowded room. His hands instantly went for his blades as the count's sword shattered the chains holding Raksha and he was about to protest when he reminded himself that the beast was not his prize, he had only been hired to capture it. If the count wished to take a foolish risk in freeing such a creature... well, it was none of his concern. Or so he thought, until the count revealed that the beast would be joining them on this campaign. Draza had been reluctant at first, the battlefield was not his hunting ground of choice, but the prey, the fabled druchii, was too interesting to pass up. His gaze flicked across the other vampires assembled, noting important features, names, and bloodlines. His eyes met the count's as he spoke of the bloodlines. Curious... he made a mental note to speak to Bloodfang further when he had the chance.

He noticed that Mal'caor held himself in a similar manner, remaining vigilant and ready. His comments about nobility lead Draza to take an instant liking to the dark skinned vampire, and a small smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. Few people held the same disdain for nobility as the Kislevite peasantry, with whom Draza shared his blood. He stared for a moment at Hans as well. There was no mistaking another hunter, which could mean either competition or camaraderie, sometimes both. There would be time later to get to know the others though, he supposed he would have to seeing that they would be together for the foreseeable future. Right now though, he kept most of his attention focused on Raksha. He walked around to face the Strigoi. He stood his ground calmy in front of the other vampire even though he was forced to tilt his head back to meet him eye to eye. "Seems it is your lucky day, yes? I will not be turning my back on you, I think." He tilted his head. "Do you have a name? ...can you even speak?"
 

Sanai

Stylish Deviant
True Blood
Oct 30, 2009
5,193
Behind Darvy
Raksha looked down at the one who had hunted him, tracked him for so long, the one who was responsible for the shackles which still hung around his wrists.
It speaks to me? None have asked for my name in so long....

"My name was Raksha..... the ghouls who hunted with me called me Ripclaw..... you hunted me for so far, for so long. Why?" Raksha said with some difficulty.
 

Amun Sengir

Ghoul
Apr 14, 2008
110
Draza was a bit surprised when the Strigoi actually spoke to him. He'd half expected the beast to simply attack him. "Raksha, eh?" The question caught him off guard. "Why? It... is what I do. What we do. We are predators, yes? The count wanted you here. If it is any consolation though, you were the most challenging prey I have ever tracked."
 

Capt Rubber Ducky

Vampire Count
True Blood
Jun 9, 2009
1,547
"So Raksha, what do you plan to do now? Will you be staying out this endeavour to the lands of the Druchii or leaving at the first opportunity. I want to make sure I'm not going to have my limbs removed from behind while I'm fighting the Druchii" Azazrel said, waiting for Raksha's response before turning for the door that lead to the open.

"I will see you all outside, this fire is nagging at my mind" Azazrel indicated the balefire "I'm sure there will be plenty of time to become acquainted on the long voyage across the sea" Azazrel walked towards the door before quickly turning to Sir Gavin "I would be careful, unlike humans, a vampires hearing doesn't get worse with age" with that he left the room and ascended the stairs.
 

Sanai

Stylish Deviant
True Blood
Oct 30, 2009
5,193
Behind Darvy
Raksha stared at the nobleman for a moment, his claws sliding out for a moment, then withdrawing back into fingernails as he considered the journey ahead.
"For now, I will stay with this pack, I must be sure that when I do leave it, I will not be hunted again. The best way to do ensure that is to hunt with it, for a while. Do not threaten me, and your limbs will stay attached." He said, before stalking out of the room to head in the general direction of the ships, obviously uncomfortable with all of the vampiric company.
 

Dreadgrass

Necromancer
Dec 20, 2009
846
Chuckling quietly as Azazrel disappeared up the stairwell, Mal'caor stoppered his flask and returned it to his pocket.

"My apologies friend, It seems I may of cost you some esteem with our lordly ally there. If it's any consolation, I think his posterior already had scratchmarks from his fangs, so you weren't the cause for where his head is inserted."

At the sound of Raksha's voice, Mal'caor turns and watches him leave the room. "Of all our companions, that one concerns me the greatest. I'd hazard my odds against our venerable Count Bloodfang before I tangled with that one... I wonder what I could learn from one such as he..."

With a companionable nod, he acknowledges Draza and invites him to join the conversation. "Come friend, let's let the insufferably noble lords cool their insufferably noble heels for a while whilst us more earthly warriors converse, I was just saying to master Gavin here that it's good to have some clear-minded warriors along to converse with, the thought of a long sea voyage with only the good count and his lordlings for company makes my fangs ache."
 

Count Darvaleth

I <3 marmite
True Blood
Apr 26, 2010
3,407
As Kraskor and his group of vampires slowly made their way towards the fleet, the Count's thoughts were interrupted by Bartram.

"I am inclined to deny your scouting request. You will see once we get sailing quite why you do not want to be flying above the sea at the moment..." replied the Count, moving on before another vampire scurried in front of him, bowing. The Necrarch. His skills better be worth the smell, thought Bloodfang. He was impressed, however, by his knowledge of the Blood Dragons.

"You are most perceptive, Cedrick, to think that the prize I seek is a dragon. You must know a lot of our bloodline. No, the prize we set out for is far greater than any dragon. It's power will have dragons crumbling before us in submission. You'll see." replied Kraskor, cryptically. He couldn't tell them what he searched for, only the Saint could understand it properly. Kraskor had barely been able to grasp the power he could understand, but he knew there was so much more he was ignorant of. Not for long, anyway.



Eventually, you all make your way to the fleet:

It is a grand sight: three swift-moving fastships, a convoy ship laden with servants and supplies, as well as any mounts, a ghostly ethereal ship crewed by spirits, and the great warship itself: the Bloodtalon. It was massive, with cannons lining its sides, mortar-stations hidden on the deck, layers of tattered red sails, and a great black skull fixed to the front of the vessel. The dead marched across each ship, skeleton-crews keeping the ship in order whilst magic powered the sails. The swift-ships were manned by only a few of the Count's vampires; the majority of his knights remained aboard the Bloodtalon.

You are lead aboard the mighty warship, and are each granted separate quarters. Describe them: are they low down in the ship? Near the top? Secreted away in a corner? Do they have a window? They will all be quite small, but not tiny; what is inside them? Slaves bring you food and drink, and each receive one human thrall to feed on should your hunger take you.


The fleet eventually sets away, the sight of the Blood Bastion fading as the ships slip quietly away into the night...




You are woken by a great roar. It is Count Bloodfang, demanding everyone on deck and battle-ready. Mere seconds later, the report of booming cannonfire is heard, and a great spray of water erupts around the ship. You scramble up to the deck to a scene of bitter naval warfare.

"We've been spotted by an Imperial patrol!" roared Bloodfang, bedecked in his crimson armour, his will-force driving the crew to man the cannons. "They sent for reinforcements faster than we could out-sail them. Three blasted Imperial warships!"

You all can see the enemy fleet, even in the darkness. Rain lashes the deck, and lightning strikes occasionally, lighting up the cloud-swathed sky. The three main warships, all slightly smaller than the Bloodtalon, are advancing in a wedge formation to the flank of the vampire fleet. The supply ship has circled behind the Bloodtalon, and the three fast-ships have swung around to get amongst the enemy fleet.

"Ready yourselves!" roared Bloodfang as the fleets ran into each other. Furious cannon-fire erupted as broadsides smashed into each other. The Bloodtalon rammed one enemy vessel amid-ships, and soon hooks were swung across.

"Cross the gap! Take the warship!" roared Bloodfang. The Blood Ring flashed an evil crimson just as lightning flashed overhead. The thunderbolt was manipulated by the fowl magicks, hitting the stricken Imperial ship dead on. Fire erupted along the vessel, as their crew desperately prepared to repel the vampiric attackers. "Charge!"


---------------------------------------------------------------------

All: Finish up anything you had to do beforehand first, then respond to this (in one post preferably). You must cross onto the other warship and finish off its crew. Battle flares all around, cannonballs flying through the air, lightning streaking the sky, rain pouring down onto the two ships locked together. This is your first taste of battle under Bloodfang, and already he has bent the thunder to his will. Perhaps reflect on this as you butcher the enemy warriors...? Remember to post your initial reactions to the fleet, and your quarters. Essentially everything that applies to you (ie: most of it) from the above post as well as any further details below.

Batram: Your undead mount flies through the air from the supply ship. As you mount it, you see another shape flit into the sky: a Brettonian noble, sitting astride a great white pegasus, has taken to the air to fight you. He is fully clad in strong armour, which will be hard to break through. He is also armed with a glowing blade, which sizzles as the rain burns around it. This is not a one-post kill. You will fight him and the next update will then direct you.

Ripclaw: The smell of blood is ripe in the air, and you soon transform into a full varghulf. Your powerful haunches could easily propel you onto the top-deck of the other ship, where the captain struggles at the wheel. He is armed with a blade that moves as quick as lightning, and quickly six elite warriors wielding great-swords form up around him. This will be a tough fight.

Dietrich: You can easily leap across the gap between the ships. However as you land a group of soldiers, armed with pistols and blades, gather around you. There are four of them: how will you defeat them?

Mal'caor: As you spin through the air to the other side, your chains catch on the ropes. However, you can use this to get up higher, and possibly do severe damage to the ship's mast and sails. It is an opportunity nobody could miss. However, as you scale the rigging, you see a man in the crow's nest, armed with a rifle, and shooting at you! How will you avoid being shot down, kill the man, and cut the mast's weak point?

Cedrick: You cannot make the jump as easily as the others, however, you may not need to. You can use your magic from afar, or perhaps try something a little more experimental... take Kraskor's example with the lightning, for example. A plentiful supply of energy just being wasted, and so easily re-directed... should you choose to control some of the lightning, you can use it to strike at the opposing ship's cannons, hoping to strike the magazine. I will determine whether or not you manage to blow big stuff up.

Azazrel: As you cross the gap, you catch your foot and fall. You almost fall straight into the raging water, but manage to hold on to an open window. Climbing in, you find yourself in the bottom of the ship, and notice water filling it fast. You need to get up, but crew block your path as you ascend; how many and of what nature is up to you. You will not reach the main deck in this update.

Hans: You manage to cross the gap, and are confronted by a group of pikemen. There are six of them, but they are poorly arrayed, an easy target for a hunter of your skill.

Draza and Sir Gavin: You make it across to the other ship, and stumble across a mortar team trying to shoot straight at the Bloodtalon. You cannot allow them to succeed. There is also a group of guards, so your team-work will be required. Perhaps it is time for Draza to release the inner wolf?



As I said, this update would be a little more...stressful. xD Enjoy.
 

Malochai

Moderator
Staff member
True Blood
Aug 4, 2010
3,072
England
Bartram bowed his head respectfully at Kraskor's response, but snarled as soon as he turned away and pulled his helmet on.

"Blasted fool! You turn away a valuable asset!" he murmured to himself, before guiding Abastor to turn and leap into the air, towards the fleet that Bloodfang had gathered. If you could call it a fleet, he thought silently. I've seen more impressive Bretonnian convoys!

Still disgusted, he let Abastor decide on the course, and flew over the ships before wheeling back tightly. They gained altitude steadily, until they were a good two hundred feet above the largest warship. Plunging steeply towards the water, the air buffeted his cloak, drawing it out behind him like a comet's tail. Levelling out with the ship, he saw the true scale of the beast. Cannons lined the deck, eerily seeming to glow in the light of Mannslieb. Sails, tattered by years of unkeep, were a deep ruby red, clear in the silver light and fluttered despite the lack of wind.

"Cannons?" he asked himself, shaking his head in veiled anger. Looking to the other ships, he saw a number of Kraskor's underlings manning the decks, but in none of the numbers that seemed to swarm on the Bloodtalon's surface. The crews were mainly skeletons, efficiently maintaining the ships as they prepared to set sail.

Averse to the sight of the cannons, he angled Abastor towards the deck of the Bloodtalon, and dismounted quickly, handing his lance and shield to a servant who scurried forwards as the undead pegasus' hooves clattered on the sodden wood as they tried to grip it, shattering several of the crew.

"Be careful with those," he snarled, revealing his fangs to the cowering human, whose face was hidden by locks of matted black hair. Turning back to his steed, he commanded the jet pegasus to take to the supply ship, along with the other mounts. As Abastor leapt to the air, he turned his gaze back to the servant. "Take me to my quarters! I cannot stand the sight of these dishonourable weapons any longer!" The tone his father used to use, condescending and yet demanding respect, entered his voice. Bowing deeply, the peasant-born mongrel turned and scampered back into the bowels of the ship, leading the vampiric Bretonnian noble.

"These ... Are my quarters?" he asked with distaste.
"My Lord... ?" the foul-smelling man asked, fear of a new level entering his voice.
"Yes, I am ... Now, are you entirely sure these are my quarters? I saw many more ... Comfortable rooms on my way to this hole," he uttered, a sinister snarl on his face.
"I ... I ..."
"Oh, for the love of Giselle! Move, cur!" he stormed, as he pushed past him back into the corridor, and made his way back up the passageway. He opened the doors as he went, searching for a room more to his liking. It made for an odd sight, the vampire who looked in his mid-teen years ordering the man of at least fourty around. "This!" he finally declared, as he stepped into the room. "Go, tell the occupant he has been moved, on Count Kraskor's orders! Leave my things, there," he ordered, waving his hand to the corner where a weapon stand was positioned. He turned his back as the man placed his shield and lance reverently in the corner, and then removed his axe and sword and placed them on the stand.

A knock disrupted his thoughts on Naggarond, and the prize that awaited. "Enter!" he called imperiously, and turned as the door was opened. A woman of about twenty entered and curtseyed, head bowed. Her blonde hair rolled off the back of her shoulders, and the dress she wore was old, of the fashions of Bretonnia in the past, before he had moved his family into the Border Princes, but she wore it well. Rising, she lifted her head to reveal a face that could rival many of the Imperial beauties, natural grace and elegance combined with unearthly good looks. Emerald eyes shone out of her face, giving her a look of nobility that many of those born into it struggled to attain.

"My Lord," she said, her voice light and lilting, "I am yours for this journey,"
"Your name?"
"Clarisse, Lord," she replied, bowing her head slightly.
"A good name, Clarisse. Come," he ordered, beckoning her with his hand.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

An animalistic roar disturbed Bartram's sleep, slowly permeating his slumbering mind. Eventually, he sat up, and the pure rage in it focussed his mind suddenly. Racing to the window, he peered out and saw three ships that he didn't recognise through the fogged glass. He turned and saw Clarisse in the bed, and the tattered remnants of her dress on the floor. Smiling lasciviously, he remembered the day before, before turning his mind to the current issue.

"Servant!" he roared above the other noise, and a man entered warily. "Fool, hurry! Armour me!" he ordered menacingly, and stood there as the man fumbled with his mail and plate armour. It took twice as long as it normally would, and Clarisse had stirred, a look on her face that he could barely resist as his fangs lengthened, breaking the skin of his lips. Eventually, he had to send her away. As he was being armoured, he looked around his commandeered quarters. They weren't what he was used to; more sparse than they had any right to be, with but a bed and a chest of draws, a seat and a circular window on the starboard side of the mighty ship. Candles were dotted everywhere about the room, throwing an orange light on everything. The sheets of the bed were ripped and torn after the day he'd had.

Finally bursting through the door, strapping his sheath around his waist, axe already slung over his back and shield on his wrist, he battled through the press of Bloodfang's knights and propelled himself onto the deck. The others were already there, and Kraskor was speaking. The Bretonnian only caught the end of his speech, "faster than we could out-sail them. Three blasted Imperial warships!" Snarling, Bartram turned to the enemy ships and braced himself as the Bloodtalon smashed into a ship. Already, he could see Abastor in the air, streaking towards him. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw a white streak fly through the air. He cast his concentration upon it, and what he saw made him grin wolfishly - a Bretonnian noble on a pegasus of purest white. As he heard the black pegasus' hooves come into the contact with the deck, he swung around and mounted him, before urging him forwards and over the side of the deck, towards his chosen opponent, fangs fully exposed and eyes slits like a cats, glowing slightly crimson. His blades, the axe and sword, both pulsed red in his hands, eager for blood to be spilt...
 

Sanai

Stylish Deviant
True Blood
Oct 30, 2009
5,193
Behind Darvy
Raksha approached the largest of the ships, and seeing the forest of masts, spars and ropes, he smiled. Crouching low, Raksha stared towards the mainmast, then leapt into the air. Flying through the air at an unnatural speed and height, he impacted the mast, grasping it with all four limbs and scurrying upwards to the very top, before letting out a guttural roar.

Later, as Raksha stalked towards the room assigned to him. Then, he saw a mortal entering the room assigned to another vampire. Sniffing the air, Raksha smiled.... that is Draza's food... smiling, raksha entered the room behind the mortal, and screams and tearing sounds echoed from the room behind him. Then, he left the room, his teeth and claws lengthened and covered in blood.
That will send a message....
Reaching his own room, Raksha noticed that his room was in the deepest part of the ships hold, more of a large, reinforced cell, complete with chains attached to the floor and ceilling, much like those of the room he had been held in by the Count. The fact that he would have been brought along whether he chose to or not was perfectly clear.

Later, Raksha was disturbed by a roar not of his own. Climbing quickly towards the deck of the ship, he discarded the broken corpse of the mortal that had been given to him as he began to climb the mast. Seeing hostile sails, he rapidly changed and grew in size as he clambered atop the crows nest, dislodging the skeletal sentry that occupied the nest. His nails lengthened and grew into wicked claws, his muscles and limbs grew bulkier and lengthened, his face quickly lengthened and mutated until it was that of a great bats. Leaping from the crows nest, Ripclaw the varghulf spread his great wings and glides onto the nearby ship. Landing with a cracking and splintering of wood behind the captain, he roared, causing all of the occupants of the enemy fleet to pause for a moment. As the captain turned to face him, he lashed towards the captain with a swipe of his great claw, the captain quickly dodging his attack. Then, he was soon surrounded by soldiers with greatswords. Ripclaw leapt up into the air, dodging a pair of greatswords before landing back down amidst the soldiers, crushing one beneath his great bulk. Growling, Raksha stared at the guards as they formed up nervously around their captain to face him.
 

Capt Rubber Ducky

Vampire Count
True Blood
Jun 9, 2009
1,547
Azazrel sat in a wing backed chair in his room, he had insisted that one was provided for him on the voyage, he wasn't going to sit on some uncomfortable bit of wood. His room was pretty basic, not how he would choose to travel but he had expected nothing more of a Blood dragon. In the corner of the room a Human thrall was slumped against the wall eyes wide open in a vampiric trance. He was still alive but there was a small amount of blood dripping from his neck. Azazrel stood an picked up 2 phials from the table he had filled them with blood earlier, just in case. Usually tastes foul he thought to himself but if no alternative is available this will be better then nothing, he thought before placing the phials safely away.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Azazrel was disturbed by a roar from the Count and with the sound of cannons this meant only on thing, he strapped the metal claw and plate onto his left arm and his sword onto his back, he always carried his pistol. He had no need for full heavy armour and his leathers where designed well enough to be worn at most times on the voyage.

Azazrel emerged onto the the upper deck as The Count Ordered them across to the enemy ship, Azazrel ran ready to jump the gap, as he was about to jump the amulet around his neck glowed red, he spun round, his eyes glowed red and shot out two red bolts that collided with a cannon ball flying for him shattering it. The force pushed him backwards and his heel caught a rope lying on the floor tipping him backwards over the side of the ship. As he fell Azazrel his left hand out, the metal claw caught the ledge of a window and he was able to pull himself up. He kicked open the window and swung inside, he was in the bowels of the ship and water was already seeping in.

Azazrel Started to make his way up a nearby set of wooden stairs, two soldiers stood half way up, both where dressed in heavy armour with shields and swords in there hands. "Shouldn't you be up on the upper decks fighting" Azazrel shouted before putting a bullet in his skull of one of them. The other charged at him, Azazrel swatted the the swing from the man's sword arm trapping it against the wall with his armoured left arm before twisting the man's shield with the other breaking his arm. The man fell back in pain and without hesitation Azazrel rammed the metal claws into the man's face, one going into each of the man's eyes.

He reloaded his pistol quickly before climbing the stairs into the next room, water following him up the stairs at a worryingly fast place. Azarel emerged into a large space either side large numbers of men manned cannons, blasting at anything they could. The small guard in the centre of the room turned towards Azazrel drawing there blades, the rest hadn't noticed over the roar of cannon fire.
 

Malochai

Moderator
Staff member
True Blood
Aug 4, 2010
3,072
England
Bartram and Abastor dropped over the side of the Bloodtalon, diving towards the murky waters of the ocean. Pulling up, they seemed to skim just over the water, Abastor's hoof dipped just into it, creating a ripple behind him.

Suddenly, they wheeled steeply and turned to face the enemy pegasus and it's rider, who seemed to glow with an internal holy light that repulsed Bartram. Snarling, he closed his eyes to slits, and a crazed, feral look appeared on his face. Foul avatar of the Lady!, he thought to himself viciously, before, His blood will be all the sweeter for it...

Rising steadily, Abastor's wing's beating regularly, the vampire began to make out details of his chosen enemy - almost the complete opposite of the undead Lord, he looked magnificent to the human onlooker. Tall, at maybe six foot three, with jet black hair, cut to hang down to just above his brow. He looked in his mid forties, and yet ageless, like he could live forever and not change at all, with scars marring his otherwise handsome features, proof of his dedication and passion to eradication 'evil' in the name of the Lady and King. However, the most striking feature was the fire that was lit in this man's eyes; they were lit with an inner fire, a gleaming sapphire blue that flickered.

This is what I used to dream of being, he thought in disgust, shaking his head. And then snapped back to reality when he was nearly impaled on the gleaming lance of the knight as they passed. Only his preternatural speed saved his undeath. Abastor circled of his own accord and Bartram readied his axe, hefting it into a more natural and comfortable position in his hand. As the pegasi came together in a swirling maelstrom of wings and kicking legs, he eyed an opening and swung, the axe swinging towards the neck of his opponent, only to find a shield raised just at the last second. The jarring impact shocked the vampire, and then he snarled again, revealing his fangs that ripped open his lips even as a roar of primordial rage tore it's way up his throat and seemed to cast the rest of the world into a temporary oblivion, from Bartram's point of view. He saw the crew of at least one Imperial warship look up, terror filling their eyes.

The Grail Knight urged his steed away from the vampire, and the pure force of the silvery, majestic beast pulled the axe from his hands, and it was lodged in the paladin's shield. Narrowing his eyes, Bartram found himself congratulating his opponent in his mind. Well done... You fight well for a dead man..., he thought before viciously kicking Abastor forward. The air rushed around him, but time seemed to slow, as he looked at the man and looked for an opening. None appeared, but he allowed himself to stay perfectly still, only his ruby eyes moving. The lance was aimed at his still, un-beating heart, and started glowing intensely as it drew closer. Still he was still, a statue hurtling through the sky.

And then he pulled Abastor to the right, and slashed to the left with his sword. The blade, kept relentlessly sharp and perfect by ancient enchantments, laid on the blades by the hands of his wife. A blinding light that burned Bartram's skin appeared, seemed to diminish, as if imploding, and then a blast of heroic proportions pounded him, and almost knocked him from his saddle.

His pegasus rolled, and Bartram almsot plummeted to the ocean, only keeping his place two hundred feet above the fleets by gripping Abastor's mane. Even the other knight seemed astonished at the sudden explosion, but was already regaining his composure, drawing his sword and urging his silver steed forward. He was drawing closer, and still, Bartram was struggling to regain his saddle.
 

Zanos

Vampire Count
True Blood
Jul 23, 2009
1,387
Gavin, having refreshed himself with the human servant in his quarters, had now started his practice. He was a blur, striking at targets only he could see. He did this for quite a while, not resting, always seeking to keep his skills sharp. He did this for what could have been hours. He only stopped when he heard a roar, and the sound of cannon fire.

Rushing to the ship's deck, he unsheathed his sword, and quickly observed what was happening. Noting the obvious target ship, Sir Gavin sprinted and leaped over to the other ship. Catching on to the side, he quickly hopped on to the deck. He looked to the side, and saw one of his fellow vampires, Draza. They both saw a mortar team attempting to fire on the Bloodtalon. Knowing the damage that a mortar could do, Gavin knew they had to destroy it before it could fire, but there were guards. Motioning to Draza, he shouted over the sounds of battle, "You rush to the mortar and destroy it! I will deal with the guards!" With that, he rushed headstrong into the guards, stabbing his sword through the throat of one before he could even raise his weapon, before crushing the windpipe of another with his armored fist. Gavin turned into a whirlwind of destruction, slashing and parrying. His tinted hair seemed to shine in the rain as he carved mercilessly through the mortar guards.
 
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