Lions and Tigers and Bears, oh my! (Acheron + invites)

[Aaron Hunter]

Story for Acheron members

[Ambrose Acheron]

Ambrose had been spending some time in the wilderness lately. He had only one goal when venturing from the safety of the city, the hustle and bustle of the prey offered by millions of people packed into the concrete jungle, ingredients. Totems for his rituals. The Fae had been problematic for his kind since time immemorial and that hadn't changed while he had withered in the shadow realm the past two centuries. Ambrose had lost much of his power to the fade over that time, eaten away, scourged by the muted realm. He was beginning to think he had lost more than just powers ... he was feeling like he had lost his mind. Since awakening he had sired, something he swore he would not do again, yet he had felt like crawling out of hi skin without others of his blood around him. It hadn't been that way before. He had been spending more an more time in the wilds and less and less around his Brood. Even his time with Adelita had been sporadic at best though he had plans to change that.

Plans. That was what had a jaguar prowling through the trees of the woods surrounding Harper Rock carrying a bag in it's mouth as though dragging prey away from the kill spot to stow it out of reach of other predators. Instead of fresh killed game it was full of herbs and plants though.

The creature stops and paws at a plant with white berries, pulling it from the earth by the roots and batting it into the bag as it hold it open with it's mouth. This form, while far from convenient for gardening was a safe one in the wilderness. The Fae never attacked animals or people... only vampires it seemed. Ambrose had pondered this extensively. Why was it the Fae could tell them from mortal men, but not mortal animals? Would they attack a blood thief because of the vampiric blood? Ambrose had never met one to ask.

He had read that the Fae had attacked some of his Brood and undoubtedly the Siren that had affected both he and his wife had been Faeish in nature. They seemed active in Harper Rock more than the vampire could remember them being anywhere else he had lived. Perhaps this last bastion of the vampire drew them here. Maybe they were drawn to the weakness between the realms. Ambrose would have loved to be able to have a discourse with one of them to find out.

Breaking away from that line of thinking the jaguar stops and crouches, listening to the sounds around him in the woods. He had been out here for only just over an hour and had encountered only wolves, and a rabbit. None of them had seemed interested in tangling with a jaguar on this night. Still, though his animal form had always protected him from the Fae in the past he had no proof that that was still the case and the increased activity of the creatures in modern times reminded the elder that caution was the side to err on. He waits quietly, un-moving in the darkness and listens, bag hanging out of his mouth once more.

[Aaron Hunter]

Story deleted due to lack of interest

[Jedediah]

Jedediah sat quietly in the lair he shared with sugahplum, nimble fingers running a stone over the already razor sharp edge of his sword. His sugahplum had gone out collecting flowers, and one of them had attacked her. Jedediah had sworn his protection to her and he had failed. Sugahplum wasn't a fighter, she loved most everything. The painted telepath had given herself into his care, and he had failed. Ths soft grinding of the Arkansas stone over Damascused steel was usually calming to the gaunt necromancer, but tonight every grating stroke of the stone raised his ire even more. Tonight every *skriiiiiiit* of the stone was the sound of a fae's claws tearing through his sugahplum's neck. Only the strength of the titanium collar she had accepted from him had prevent her decapitation. The fae's claws had torn through her flesh, but the titanium collar had stopped them before those claws could finish the job. She had lived. He had failed.

Slowly, almost reverently Jedediah laid down the sword beside his chair and rose to his full six foot two. Shedding the restrictive clothes he had to wear in the city, he leapt and grasped the exposed beam crossing his living room. Slow and controlled, he executed twenty pull- ups before jackknifing up to lock his knees around the beam. Hanging down with his long tresses almost caressing the floor Jedediah crossed his chest with arms ending in clenched fists as he began twenty inverted sit- ups. Each was slow, a controlled ten count as he came up, then ten more seconds till he once more hung free. Dropping down he landed on his hands, bent elbows absorbing his energy then flexing to spring him upright. A graceful landing preceded a feral stalk. He had failed to protect her, he would not fail to avenge her. Stalking about the lair with the grace of a hunting wolf the naked male strove to achieve a semblance of calm as his mind whirled, plotting and planning. Long fingers curled into his tangled locks as he finally came to a stop. Jedediah mouth opened as his head came back. Lips curled savagely around his fangs as an inarticulate roar of savage helplessness ripped from deep in his tortured soul. Spinning towards their sleeping quarters he now moved with fluid speed.

Those nimble fingers now positioned and tied, as he pulled on the buckskin hunting gear he had painstakingly made himself. The term buckskin was loosely applied, as these pants and shirt were made from much tougher material. It had taken two bears to provide the hides that fashioned the clothes he now tied on with leather laces, much thicker and more durable than the hides of a whitetail. Hopefully they would provide the protection needed to get up close and personal. There would be no guns on this outing, even though he was a crack shot. No, this time he wanted to see into his enemy's eyes, feel its breath, and revel in the mist of its blood splashing his face as he drove his sword deep into the fae. From all he had learned he was not capable of killing one, but he would bleed one, and he would bleed it hard. Picking up his sword he ran a lightly oiled cloth over the newly stoned surfaces before slipping it in to its home over his right shoulder.

Turning slowly around, his eyes searched the apartment for a trace of her. The had not yet gone shopping and mostly she had worn his old flannels tied beneath her full bosom. The roaming eyes finished the search fruitlessly, and Jedediah lowered his head with grim determination as he headed for the door. A slight tug at his foot caused him to glance down, and the first smile of the night crossed his stoic features as he bend down. Rising up he brought his clenched fist to his face inhaling deeply. Resolve fortified as he inhaled the peculiar light musk that was unique to his loved he reached for the door with one hand as the other lightly tossed the tiny scrap of black lace that had graced her hips that first night to his chair. He would let her keep those he thought as he stepped from the apartment, then rapidly made it outside for the short drive to the city limits