Path of the Vampire forum

Eachann was still reeling in shock from what he'd found out that morning, that his Mouse and his baby were both dead. He didn't think he had anything to live for really, and was feeling completely numb and reckless. She had been his whole world and his everything, and if he were honest - his quest against the vampires had turned from revenge for his family into protection for her and his unborn child. However he'd failed again. His family were dead. She was dead. His child was dead. Everything was gone and he was lost, completely lost. He wandered through the sewers and the catacombs, striking out at anyone he saw and didn't care about being careful and stealthy as normal. He was walking through the park in Bullwood, thinking about heading home and taking no joy from the frost that sparkled on the grass under the moonlight, or any of the little things he normally did. And that's when he saw her.

He didn't care what she was doing, he didn't care why she was here. She was a vampire, the first one he'd ever seen feeding, and it was him she was feeding on at the time! His eyes narrowed as that age old rage built within him - simply at her gall for walking the earth like she belonged here. She and the rest of her kind were a plague upon the earth and they needed to be removed. Just as they had removed everything he loved from the earth. Without thinking, his hand lifted up and his palm pointed at her. He channelled that rage towards her in a focussed effort and with a cry of an angry, broken man that spoke of all he had lost that night and all the pain and anger he felt - a blue wave of his power shot from his hand, aimed directly at her. As soon as it was out and away, he had his sword in his hand, running towards her with complete hatred upon his face. Tonight, either he or she would be ended!

There was a party that Zelda had heard about, in one of those mansions up at the North East edge of the city. She rarely went into the snooty areas of Harper Rock, preferring instead to stick to the Hipsters and the ‘low lifes’. They were the ones who had more fun, in the end. This party, however, was toted to be one of the biggest and best, and you could always trust the rich kids to throw an absolute corker. Zelda had been at the pub near the University when she’d heard about it. Someone she happened to strike up a conversation with had told her, drunkenly, that it was open slather. Anyone and everyone could go. It didn’t take much to persuade Zelda.

She’d caught the transit from Wickbridge to Bullwood, and was taking a shortcut through the park when he came at her. That ******* Paladin who had a habit of showing up when she least expected it, of attacking her, of wounding her, and then running off again like a coward in the night. Sick of it, she’d finally contacted him, wanting to end it, once and for all. She couldn’t stand the way that she never got the chance to get him back. It ate her up inside, a poison to her pride that she couldn’t abide. They hadn’t yet got around to organizing a place and time.

And as he attacked, again without warning, Zelda finally decided that come hell or high weather, she wouldn’t let him get away this time.

A force, heavy as bricks, fell over her, knocked the unneeded wind out of her lungs. Whatever it was, whatever he’d done to her, she felt a little less like herself. A little less steady. A little less sure of herself. But she didn’t care—she did her best to ignore it, and forged on anyway; she pulled the gun from the holster at her thigh, hidden beneath the voluminous skirts of her dress. She aimed at his groin, somewhat vindictively. She pulled the trigger.

The ****** acted like he didn’t have any balls, so she may as well try and remove them for him.

He saw the power hit and sneered. ******* good! However, she didn't seem like she was in the mood to just let him do as he pleased this time. ******* good! So lost in his rage and intentions, he missed where in the hell she'd pulled the gun from, but he was sure she'd not had it in her hand before that moment, had she? Well, it didn't matter much, and he didn't even bother to try and dodge the bullet as it flew towards him. However, if he was actually honest with himself, there wasn't a hope in hell he was going to dodge that bullet. He was too bloody minded and too committed to the run to be able to get out of the way. However he'd never admit that to himself.

He felt the bullet as it connected and went straight through his jeans and into his upper thigh, her aim being true and hitting his groin. He was only lucky that he wore his jeans low and baggy, and probably that he was moving too, because just an inch more to the right, and there'd be no kids for him. The problem was, that thought went through his mind and reminded him of Mouse and all he'd lost. An animalistic snarl came from his throat as he leapt towards the woman, no, the VAMPIRE.

His sword lifted up over his head and came down in an arc towards her. He was aiming for her head, but she seemed to move at the last minute and his blade skimmed her head and cut a lock of hair from her. However, he kept it swinging and as it finished it's arc, it found a home in her leg and dug in deeply. He didn't stop to see how she reacted, he simply ducked and rolled, catching up the lock of hair he'd cut from her and tucked it into his pocket, before trying to jump to his feet to ready himself for her retal.

Stepping out of the shadows, you sweep your sword at Zelda in a downward arc.
Zelda leans back slightly, and the blade skims their head and bites deeply into their leg.

Maybe she’s a little bit insane. She should have been a little bit more prepared that the hunter wouldn’t be deterred by a bullet to the groin. The blade sung as it sliced through the air; she could hear it, as it sluiced past her ear. Could hear it, as the blade snicked at her hair. Could feel it, moments later, as the blade sliced through the flesh of her leg. She screamed, as was her habit. She does like to scream, and she does it well. Like a Banshee. Maybe she’s a little bit insane, however, due to the fact that she’s more pissed off about the missing lock of hair than she is about the gouging gash in her leg. That’s gonna mess up her hair style. She’s gonna have to find a stylist, to cut it all into proper shape, now, to cover up the missing locks.

She drops to her knee, her teeth grinding and her green eyes flashing with all the fury of a wronged demi-goddess. The hand not holding the gun dug into the grass and the dirt. With a forced growl she focused not physically wounding the guy, but on summoning help from the underworld. Or, well, she assumed they came from the underworld. Some kind of freakish spirit, anyway, whose wail equals—or exceeds—her own Banshee-like scream. A whirling sidhe, all magical energy and wrath, pulls itself together in front of her, a sizzling pool of energy between herself and her foe. Perhaps the sidhe shielded her from any further attacks he may have made as she dropped to the ground.

Whatever the case, the spirit doesn’t stay still for long. Still wailing, it hurtled toward her enemy, full force, fearing nothing. It slams into him with an almighty thud, smashing him to the ground.

You summon a sidhe spirit, which blurs and charges into your target, wailing as it smashes them into the ground.

The scream his attack had illicited was like music to his ears. However, he wrongly thought that it was because he'd landed a hit on her and not because he'd sliced up her 'do'. He was back on his feet and turning to meet her as she came at him, but she wasn't coming at him at all as he'd thought she would be. She was down on her knee, focussing on something that was shimering there between them, something else that was screaming, and something that was..... ****, it was coming for him! He tried to jump out of the way, tried to run from it - he didn't know what it was and he had no idea what it was planning on doing to him. There was no escape however and it wasn't long before it was upon him.

It was like a brick wall had come at him and crashed into him. All the wind was knocked from his lungs as he and it went tumbling to the ground. It crashed into his chest and it was like it went through him, back into the ground it had risen from to vanish as if it had never been. However, the crash into him had created an audible crack or three, and the pain washed over him like a sickness. His throat closed and he gagged a number of times, choking on that nausea that rose and of course, sod's law, made the pain worseas his chest heaved.

He tried to look away from her, to crawl away from her, back away from her - he wanted her dead, but without having to get too close so he didn't have to feel anything. One hand reached out to grasp the sword he'd lost in the tumbling crash, while the other hand lifted and pointed at her, palm out once more. he reached for the anger he felt, that rage that boiled inside of him at the thought of vampires walking the planet. He used his hand to focus on her head, lining it up and aiming at her as he forced that rage towards her and into her mind. He wanted her to feel that rage and anger that he felt. He wanted her to understand how he felt at the fact she and her species existed. He wanted her so distracted by her rage that she'd **** up, so he could ******* kill the *****.

That done, he got back to his feet once more, and readied himself for whatever came next - all while trying to clear his mind of the pain and sickness he felt from his wounds and her proximity to him.

You incite Zelda with your paladin power, causing them to enter an uncontrollable rage.

Rage is not something that Zelda is accustomed to. She’s a happy soul, always the optimist, forever leaning on the silver linings rather than focusing on the darkness. Even after being turned, having her whole life turned upside down without asking for it, she does not complain. She takes what she’s given and makes the best of it. Regardless of the fact that she can never see the sun again—and that is a burden that she does not like, as she realised that she’d always taken the sun for granted—that she must soon give up her human family, that she cannot do everything as she once did, she instead focuses on the fact that she will live forever. That she will be young forever. That she was turned at the peak of her physical condition, and it will never change (aside from the scars that don’t go away, of course). There are plenty of things that she can do that she loves, that make this life worthwhile. She refuses to ever become a morose, depressed lump like her sire.

She knows, then, that the rage isn’t her own. It’s not natural to her, the way it curls and claws from her mind rather than from her heart, or from her soul. It belongs only to the man in front of her, and it is so true, so real to him—it’s like a window right into his own soul.

The man regains his balance, and reaches for his sword. Zelda clenches her teeth and fires her gun, aiming for that soul that she can now see. The heart, the head, whatever it will take to kill him. But every single shot that she fires, misses. She does feel a bit of her own fury, then. Fury because she missed. And she can’t abide it. Can’t stand the thought of losing. She cannot lose. She has to win this fight, no matter what it takes.

”Why the **** do you hate me so much, huh?! I didn’t choose this!” she screams at him. Sure, yes, she did try to bite him, once. He isn’t so bad to look at, in the grand scheme of things. She would have left him nice and cosy and out of harm’s way. Just like every other being in existence, she has to feed. Can he really deny her that?

You fire at Eachann Christie from cover, but all of your shots miss.

He was barely ready when her gun went off again, that might have been what had saved him from more bullets riddling his body. He hadn't been ready for her attack, not quite, and so had stood still as the bullets flew around him. His guess was that she'd been firing at where he would have been had he dodged, but his own exhaustion and nausea had saved him - this time. He was panting hard, which was killing his broken ribs, and it felt like there were lead weights in his legs and feet as he refound his balance and heard her speaking to him. He tried to work out if it was the first time he'd heard her talk, but he wasn't sure and the blood pounding in his ears wasn't helping him think. Her voice wasn't what he'd expected - just as the goth freak hadn't talked as he'd expected. He was expecting monstrous voices that would make children quake with fear, but both of them sounded.... normal. It wasn't right, none of it was right and his eyes narrowed at her pathetic questions, who's answers should have seemed so obvious. Before he spoke, a snarl of disgust escaped from his lips, making him spit in her general direction.

"Ye might nae hae chosen tae be whit ye er, but ye shure ae shite chose tae stay tha' way likes. Di'in't ye!"

He took a step closer, swallowing hard to keep his stomach contents in place.

"Ah didnae ask fer mah family tae be slaugh'ered. Ah didnae ask tae be yer fuud. Ye certainly didnae ask if'n ye cud feed aff av me. Yer a feckin parasite ond a disease. And ahm the cure!"

With that, he was close enough to lunge at her - again trying for her head, and again being denied as his sword found her arm and bit in and dragged along it's length. However it was good enough for him and he smirked with glee and lunged for a cheeky kiss.

You slash at Zelda, and they raise their arm to defend themselves.
Your sword slices deeply along the edge of their forearm.

It was all a bit too much. Too much information and too much action. Zelda’s brain went into overdrive as her metaphorical hackles stood on end; the things that he said in response to her question were so damned far off base, a dickhead making wrong assumptions and failing to step into the shoes of another. Her rebuttal got stuck in her throat as he lunged, and as she lifted her arm in defence. The blade cut deep into her arm and she let loose a yelp – a yelp that was cut short as the hunter’s mouth closed over her own.

******!

The absolute disgust she felt caused her trigger finger to go a little wild. Again, the shots ring out, this time she manages to hook him in the leg. With shoulder and elbow, and the heel of her own palm she shoved him off, her own feet taking her stumbling backward a few steps. He deserved a shot in the groin for that asshole move, but she won’t waste a bullet trying to make the aim.

”What’s your solution then, fucktard? I kill myself? **** off! I’m the same ******* girl I always was, not some evil ******* demon! I just had to make a few goddamned lifestyle choices!” she shrieked. But she was nowhere near finished.

”Sure, yes, I could have asked but I wasn’t going to ******* hurt you! Was going to leave you all dazed and confused in a safe place. No harm no ******* foul,” she continues. It was all completely justified in her own mind.

You fire wildly at Eachann Christie, but your aim is poor.
You do, however, hit them once in the leg, tripping them up.

It seemed she didn't appreciate the kiss, because she fired her gun again and shot him through the thigh. He broke the kiss as she pushed him off, and he stumbled backwards, chuckling away to himself as if mad. In a way, he was. He'd totally lost his mind with the loss of his child and his partner, and he'd become slightly hysterical. Her justification for what she was and what she'd tried just pissed him off further, because apparently she thought that taking his blood was fine, so long as she left him dazed and confused.

"Aye, weel, sleep wi whan eye open hen. Cuz whan ae they times ye feed, ahll hae spiked it. Ye'll be ahll dazed 'n confused, 'n theyn, ahll shtoop ye. But it's ah-right aye? Cuz ye'll be dazed 'n confused. Nae hairm nae foul aye?"

Basically, she wanted to date rape him and take his blood - and that was fine. So surely, in her twisted little mind, actually being date raped was fine too. Right? The stupidity of these vampires astounded him with their reasonings for things. But if she thought it fine to take from him, he'd be fine taking from her. And he had every intention of carrying through his threat so she'd know how it felt and possibly think again. To accentuate his point, he once again tapped into his powers and incited her into a rage, hoping she'd make a stupid mistake so he could finish her off!

You incite Zelda with your paladin power, causing them to enter an uncontrollable rage.

This time, when he throws the power at her, Zelda knows it. She knows there’s a foreign emotion in her body; she knows that he’s doing something to her, just like he had before. It might have worked, except her own anger was a force to be reckoned with. His anger and hers were like warring entities inside of one body; stars clouted the edge of her vision and she shouted, an inhuman yell that she hoped might deafen him, though she knew such a thing wasn’t possible. Maybe a few extra gunshots could deafen him—her finger clenched against the trigger, firing madly until she heard the dull thwack, the squelch of the high-velocity bullet thudding against flesh and blood.

Blood. The smell of it permeated the air, thick and fast, coming at her like a tidal wave. She blinked; she’d hit him, alright. One of her bullets had torn right through the ******’s throat. Surely, surely he could not survive much longer after this. A sadistic smile curled at the corners of Zelda’s lips; Zelda, who was normally so happy and optimistic, normally so bright and happy—the sadism was as foreign upon her lips as the hunter’s anger was to her system.

All she had heard was sleep with one eye open. All she could respond with was:

”I’m not going to sleep with one eye open because I’m going to KILL you, and then you won’t be a threat anymore, now will you?!” she shouted, her voice harsh. She waited to watch him bleed out, hoping that he would bleed out, that his death would be slow. And she wouldn’t be merciful.

[OOC: You take a couple of shots at Eachann Christie, and one of them rips through their throat!]