This guy never really went anywhere.. I powerranked too fast and couldn't stand the current crop of Forties other than a couple of people so never really got into the role, it got honorable mention in a role contest so I stuck around for a month waiting for a prize but ended up missing Marcatis and never got it, then just deleted out of boredom, heheheh. It would have been cool to stick it out though considering Eshval came back the same week I deleted.
A full moon watches over a keep that emanates a palpable aura of chilling darkness; a sense of wrongness and evil. Its high balconies overlook a desolate courtyard filled with the skeletons of once beautiful trees now laid bare by the rigors of time and foulness.
A young child dispassionately observes this scene with striking blue eyes from atop a high hill nearby. Beside him stands a hulking figure, radiating strength and deadly grace. A shift in the wind makes this man's black woolen cloak bell out, revealing a destructive arsenal of silver daggers, throwing knives, stakes, and even hatchets. This man raises one open hand with authoritative command, looking to the dark forest surrounding the keep that sits in ugly glory below them. The hunters are there, sensed more than felt, and they are ready. Knowing that now is the time, that witching hour when sun has gone and the night just come to full and this keep would be fully active but not yet aware, the raised hand is clenched into a fist, the signal of attack. Forces pour from the forest, black on black in a tide of grim purpose with silver weapons glinting in the moonlight as they are drawn from ancient sheaths.
From a window facing the main entrance a fireball screams down, catching a hunter who failed to roll away in time. The screams of man are soon drowned out by the shrieks of the damned undead. The attack has begun in earnest. From a high balcony, two hunters fly backwards through the curtained entrance. Crashing through the balcony, one meets death upon the cobbles of the courtyard; the other is dead already with his own stake through his throat. Despite the losses, the ring of unrelenting black hunters tightens around the entire keep and the screams of the vanquished dead become less frequent. Three vampires afraid of the imminent doom upon them attempt to escape from the same balcony the two hunters fell from, flying towards the forest. As if by magic, silver bolts sprout from them like quills on a hedgehog. As they crash to the ground in flaming heaps, the grim hunters surrounding the keep reload silently. As suddenly as it began, a last shriek of an executed immortal signals the end of the assault.
With a nod towards a nearby figure, the commander of this force flicks his cloak behind him as he turns towards the woods again. The order comes from over his shoulder,
'Burn it.'
Now, at last, as the hunters file out of the keep to regroup and melt back into the woods, the youth on the hill shows emotion. Kasar cannot hide his surprise and concern as he sees the reduced numbers returning. So few of those who went in returned!
***
Kasar sat restively in his seat, looking out the window of his room when he should have applied himself to the scroll that lay on the desk in front of him. However, his mind could not focus on such mundane things as vampire mating rituals. He had read a similar scroll last week! He already knew so much lore, philosophy, living habits, and theories. He was ready, and none to soon! Those of the Amon Khur, the 'hunters of the bloodless', already grew fewer too quickly, even he could see that. In his mind, he could hear Hughes, one older teacher who knew more than any other in their hold about the society of vampires.
"The vampire is most dangerous of all the unholy undead. For while the mummy and lich are powerful in their own right, most rarely are they found with others of their own type. Loners they are, and accompanied only by mindless thralls and minions. But!...vampires, while traveling alone at times also have the proclivity to establish larger groups, sometimes over twenty or thirty! Of course there are the weaker and the stronger, and the group is arrayed with the eldest and strongest as the leader. For let us not forget that vampires increase in power as they age, rather than become feeble, as do all normal living creatures. Yet each is an individual monster, capable of anything. To wipe out a nest of them the Amon Khur must destroy every last one, or else the nest will regrow in time, should a surviving abomination choose to do so."
Yes, Kasar had learned his lessons well. What he needed to do now was fight, not study even more. Not when even with all their knowledge it seemed that time and time again these children of the night seemed too knowing of the hunters' plans, while the Amon Khur learned nothing of theirs.
***
The black mare snorted and tossed its head as it stretched out under free reign to run as hard as it could. Kasar let the well-trained horse find its own path, worrying more about the amount of time it would take to return to the hold. Time had seemed to move more quickly recently, and when he was recognized as ready to take his place amongst the hunters proper, he had been given a task of utmost importance. The Commander had ordered him to ride with extreme stealth to the next closest Amon Khur hold to request reinforcements. No scout came back with news of undead activity, but all in the hold felt an oppressive presence gathering. As Kasar rode, he sensed the danger around him as well and a tightness on the back of his neck that screamed of someone or something that followed him. Secure in his own ability, he did not let that feeling deter him. He camped with no fire, and minimal shelter in the interest of speed. However, as he began to recognize by marks that he was drawing near to his destination his stomach lurched and sank, he smelled the acrid odor of charring wood, and the sickly sweet hint of spoiling meat. As he crested a hill and followed the path towards the stronghold, he could only stare in disbelief at the ruin that met his eyes. Though the hold had been built in an easily defendable location inside a large dead-end ravine with open land leading up to the entrance, it was reduced to a charred husk of smoking timber. Even an orchard near the fortress was burned, reduced to nothing more than charred twigs of a once bountiful harvest. Approaching the remains of the Fortress proper, Kasar’s senses were overwhelmed by the smell and feel of the rotting pile of carcasses still smoldering in the center of the rubble. A feeling of dread washed over him as he realized that there were no reinforcements to be had here, even if there were survivors. Swiftly turning his mount, he charged at a gallop back in the direction of his own hold, fearing the worst.
***
Blood frothed out of the nose of Kasar’s mare as they neared the Amon Khur stronghold. He knew she was on the brink of collapsing, but still he rode onward. The ominous red glow of a large fire lit the night far off in the distance, coming from what he knew to be the location of his home. As his horse collapsed under him, Kasar deftly rolled, coming up with twin daggers in his hands as he ran. The hold must have been burning since near to the time he had left, the stonework was crumbled in and there were no remaining large timbers of wood to be seen. At a distance he noticed what appeared to be crosses lining the road. As he got closer he recognized the crucifixes for what they were. All of the higher ranking Amon Khur officers lined the road. They had been skinned, they had no remaining nails or teeth, their eyes were empty sockets. Two of them still had their heads thrown back in a silent scream, making it obvious they had been in this condition for some time before they had finally succumbed to death. The last figure gave Kasar pause, he knew it to be his Commander and father. He took some satisfaction in the fact that his mouth was closed and he hadn’t died screaming. He did not feel the need to cry, but instead found a strong resolve deep within himself to strike back at the wicked that did this to his family, his people. He vowed then and there to die fighting the evil of the world, find out who betrayed the remaining members of the Amon Khur to these creatures of the night, and take his vengeance.
As he began to bow his head solemnly to the figure, he sensed movement behind him. Quickly throwing up his arm to ward off the coming blow, his forearm caught the teeth of the female vampire instead of his throat. She ripped the skin in a twin gash down his arm as he pulled away from her. Licking the blood of her lips, she studied him. She looked very young for a vampire, and was very attractive if one was looking for such things. Kasar however, was looking for something else. He launched himself at her, daggers in hand, but was easily thwarted as she grabbed his wrists, turned, and pinned him to the ground by his arms, straddling his waist. ‘Ah cookie, are you mad at us? Are we not allowed to strike back and defend ourselves from your constant attacks? You’re probably the last of your kind that are alive, your hunters are all dead. Don’t you want to come home with me? I could make you my shadow, it would be a delicious affair, I promise. You’ve already been bitten.’ She leaned in and deftly ran her tongue across his throat, drinking in the fear and anger radiating from him and instilling her aura of desire and lust into him. Screaming in rage, Kasar butted his head as hard as he could into the suddenly empty air. Her laughter echoed off the dark walls of the forest and into his soul, haunting him for quite some time. He sat up and began the search for survivors, knowing he would find none.
