Path of the Vampire forum

--The following transcript was a live chat roleplay--

Valon: Harper Rock. He hadn't been here long, his face still an unknown on her streets. It was best, that way. He came and went as he pleased, learning the in and out of life as a vampire quickly. He grasped the very basic need first. Quench the thirst. He had found the busy, eastern River Rock district a humbling but accessible hunting ground near to this haunt in the Quarantine Zone. The Dragon Gate Inn was a personal favorite of his, the establishment usually had tables full of hungry people, the waiting staff briskly walking to and from the kitchen along lonely, dimly-lit corridors between tables, almost no one person paying the other much mind as they were mesmerized by their companions, or the plate of food in front of them. It made his job all the easier.

Tonight was typical. A new waitress moved along the dark path along the wall in the back of the restaurant, her black shoes clicking crisply against the tile floor as she rushed for the kitchen door. He moved behind her, matching her pace. He was silent; his heavy boots didn't so much as squeak against the polished floor. Something caught the tiny waitress's attention, her head turning quickly. The lengthy, raven strands of the tight tail at the back of her head swung with the motion, those almond-shaped eyes going wide with fright as his monstrous frame consumed the shadows. Pale lips parted to scream as a cold, pale hand clapped over her mouth, lifting her frame violently from the floor as she began to kick, fighting for her freedom as she squealed against his hand.

He yanked her head back, baring her throat as, with a sharp pop, his fangs appeared. Another breath and the ivory blades sank into her sun kissed skin. Instantly, she went limp in his arms as he drank. She twitched once, her heels brushing along his shins as her eyes stared blankly into the darkness. She wouldn't see the woman that had peered around the corner. He wouldn't see her either, his face buried in the curve of her neck. Slowly, his fangs slid from her throat, tongue gliding along the base of her neck, trailing along the twin wounds in her flesh as he set her on her feet, holding her steady as she wobbled on weak legs. He moved slowly, once she had gathered herself enough to stand on her own, her tiny hand lifting to her forehead as she groaned, those honey colored orbs blinking slowly as she glanced around. She didn't remember him, she only remembered stepping into the darkness, and now lightheadedness claimed her. A weakness coursed through her entire frame as she ran her hand along her neck and she shook her head, moving toward the kitchen, her original destination, as her attack was forgotten, the aggressor melting into the shadows as easily as he had appeared, his hunger satisfied.

Tarisyn: Uprooting her life had been the hardest choice she had made in her entire twenty-eight years of living. She had grown comfortable to the quiet bustle of Tennessee, the way everyone knew her name and she could always have someone to count on. It had been a dream come true for her, but one that had been shattered so easily. The memory of her husband’s death was still fresh in her mind, the betrayal and despair leaving a bitter taste in her mouth that seemed to dance over her tongue with every word she spoke. It hadn’t been that long since she had lost Jason and packed up her bags to start fresh. The cops had hounded her for weeks after his murder, demanding to know everything.

It hadn’t mattered what she said, they had made sure that she knew she was a suspect. In the blink of an eye, those that had been closest to her had turned their backs on her. The once quiet shopping trips had turned to loud whispers as she walked through the store. She hadn’t even been able to make her way out her door without feeling the accusing, pity-filled glances that were cast her way. One mistake her Jason had made had made her famous in their small town. When she had finally managed to escape the scrutiny of the federal agents, she had wasted no time packing her Audi with her red husky and minimal belongings and pulled out before the sun had even began to rise. She remembered the drive just as clear as she remembered his murder.

There had been tears and cursing. A few times, she had to pull over, just to calm herself down before putting the car back in gear and putting Tennessee’s lights in her rearview mirror. She had only planned to move a state over, but it hadn’t been far enough. The memory still haunted her, and even two states over, she felt as if she were condemned there as well. Her face was plastered all over the news with a variety of stories linked to her, but not a single one of them had spoken an inkling of truth. It wasn’t until she had passed over the border and into Canada that she began to relax. That had been three weeks ago.

Now, she set in the same table she always chose at Dragon Gate Inn, her water glass sitting on the table and the napkin twisting between her fingers. She had sold the Audi to afford a room for her and Samuel, as well as money for food and clothes, but she was still stressing. She needed a job; she needed an actual home and not just a room that was so small, she felt suffocated every time she went inside. The owners were nice and understanding, and though they didn’t look at her with judgment in their eyes, she knew they were curious as to what someone like her was doing in a place like this. Shaking her head, she ran her fingers through her hair and threw the torn napkin onto the table before standing.

It was getting late, and she knew Samuel was getting anxious. He couldn’t go more than a few hours without her, and she had already hit the three hour mark trying to find a decent job. Pulling her purse over her shoulder, she headed for the bathroom, thinking to fix her make-up before heading out. As she rounded the corner, she caught sight of the waitress that had been waiting on her, and dipped her hand into her purse to give her a tip, before the sight changed. One second, it was just the raven haired woman, and the next, she was lifted and pinned by a large man. Tarisyn parted her lips to call out for help, but something seemed to freeze her in place.

Time stood still as she watched the man rip into the soft, pale skin of the woman’s throat. Her mind couldn’t catch up with what was happening, but she knew she couldn’t stand there and watch. She had to get out of there. Forcing her muscles to unclench, she pulled back and hugged her purse to her chest, her eyes closing with a few deep, shaking breaths. “Oh, god,” she whispered, and she couldn’t resist the urge to peek once more. She should do something, at the very least! By the time she had found the inner strength to move, to look once again, the waitress was no-where to be seen and the man was coming towards her.

Had he seen her? Was she next? Before she had a chance to think her actions through, she threw her hands out, her fists connecting with his jaw, then his shoulder, and his chest. She watched in wonder as the deep, purple bruises faded just as quickly as they had appeared. It was then, when she moved her grey-blue eyes up to his that she knew she was in trouble. The rage on his face was enough to stop her heart, and her attacks paused in mid-air, fists frozen in place. “Oh, god,” she repeated, swallowing thickly. She knew she had messed up, and there was nothing she could do but try to run. Even as she thought it, her feet seemed cemented into the ground. “Oh…god…”

Valon: He had paid the attractive blonde no mind, assuming her to be just another patron. She was certainly no hunter that much he could see plainly in the way that she carried herself. She didn't have a clue what world she was shuffling through. He had moved to brush past her, stepping aside to sweep around her figure and around the dark corner of the restaurant and toward the front door across the narrow path surrounded by the tanks of fish. His plan, however, was altered when a small but lightning-quick fist slammed into his jaw. His fingers flexed as he cursed himself. He should have been more suspicious of the small woman. He turned to her as another blow landed to his shoulder, then to his chest, her fists most ineffective against his athletic build. His forearm flexed, fingers poised to swipe out and rip the pretty face from her skull before he paused, arm pulled back, and his body ready for the kill.

His face was placid as he watched her, how that bravery was finally losing to her intelligence. She knew what was coming and still her feet stood firm, even if her fists had frozen in space and an immense wave of fear entered her sparkling grey gaze. He admired her. He knew, when that paralyzing fear gripped her body, that she had seen him, and that he had been correct. She was no hunter. She was a human, sure, but she possessed no training. No weaponry adorned her body, her clothing too tight to leave room for any beneath the cloth of her top, or the denim of her jeans. She had seen a monster, and instead of running, or falling to the floor and pissing herself, she had advanced, and struck him in the jaw. She had a will stronger than any human he had ever seen, even before his turning.

Slowly, the lips that had been pressed into a thin line across that neutral expression twisted. A wry smirk replaced the flat grimace. This, he thought, is going to be fun. His hand lashed out, gripping her by the throat as he threw his weight into her. Her back connected with the oak paneling with a sharp snap as the planks gave way beneath the impact. Her heels had been swiped from the floor, banging against the wall as his grip hoisted her into the air. With his thumb against her jaw, he snapped her head to the side, her neck threatening to shatter with the force of its twist before he rushed forward.

Another sharp pop left his mouth as his fangs extended, sliding effortlessly into the flesh of her throat in a single fluid dance. His head jerked back, ripping the throat from her neck and sending her blood spraying in a thick fountain across the table next to them, her cheek pressed roughly to the wall, her face to the darkness as he stood just inside of her peripheral, her flesh hanging from his fangs as his tongue moved over his lips. The gesture was fruitless; so much crimson coated him again from the gushing wound that it had made no difference. He held her there, against that wall as the splashes of blood began to become less violent and less frequent, waiting for her thrashing to become gentle, faint twitches.

Tarisyn: What had she just been thinking, not even minutes ago? That uprooting her life had been the most difficult thing in her life? It had nothing on this. As she stared up at the man, her eyes widening as her fear increased, she could only think that she had made a major mistake in choosing this town over all of the others. Now that she thought about it, she couldn’t begin to tell herself what had called her to Harper Rock instead of Ontario or any of the other cities. Her heart began to beat in overtime, the soft thudding against her ribs as frantic as a rabbit when her gaze flicked to his lifted hand. She saw the strain, the veins tightening beneath the strong muscles as his fingers flexed. Though his expression was neutral, the cold, undiluted rage was still shimmering in his eyes.

He wanted to kill her. His first instinct had been to rip some part of her body away, but much like her frantic, frightened fist throwing, he had stopped. Something he saw gave him pause, and she wanted to use that hesitation to her advantage. She had years of self-defense training and the stamina to match, but she couldn’t seem to remember a lick of it as time seemed to freeze for just that second. By the time she had collected herself enough to part her lips, it was too late. She felt her feet lift from the floor and the wind brush through her hair as she was propelled backwards. Her skull connected with the oak, and the wood splintered, ripping through her shirt and embedding into her back as she thrashed.

There was absolutely nothing she could do. She had seen it in the way his lips quirked, his handsome, but deadly face contorting into something almost sadistic. She should have run when she had the chance, but now it was too late. Her head was snapped to the side, and even as she tried to scream, his curling fingers cut off any air from her lungs. She couldn’t have managed a squeak in that moment. Tears built in her eyes as she tried to kick, her legs pumping and heels slamming into the wood, but none of it mattered. He descended on her like a hungry beast, his razor-sharp teeth tearing through her porcelain skin like she was nothing more than paper.

The crimson stained her vision as her blood sprayed in an arc, the warmth causing her hands to slip as they carelessly, fruitlessly clawed at his biceps in her struggle. It sent her mind reeling and caused her stomach to churn. Through the pain, she felt bile rise up her throat, much like it had the night of her husband’s murder. How fitting, she thought bitterly as the memory weaseled its way into her mind as her heartbeat began to slow.

“Hide, Tari,” Jason demanded as he pulled their Glock from the top shelf. He didn’t even give her a chance to argue. He threw open the door, just as their front door was kicked in, leaving her huddled in their bedroom floor with Samuel held in her arms. The husky was trembling with the strength of his growls, but the blonde managed to keep him from barking. She barely heard the conversation, but she heard her husband’s last words loud and clear. “ My wife’s in the next room. She’s a hot piece, a hell cat in the sack. Take her to Rolando in place of my debt, and we can all live happily.” His voice was strong, sure, and it bounced around and around in her mind. She didn’t hear the response of the men before the gun shots began. It only lasted a few seconds, but to her, it felt like an entirety before she was able to crawl her way to the bedroom door and peek out. The living room was covered in blood, her husband’s bruised and battered corpse lying in the center, hand outstretched for his gun and his lifeless green eyes staring towards the bedroom door. A scream tore from her throat as she tried to crawl towards him, the siren’s echoing in the distance.

It was the last memory she had of him, and it was one that had left her angry and suicidal all in one. She had thought that was the hardest part in her life, but now, as she felt the last of her fight leave her, legs stomping their hopeless kicks and her hands falling to her sides, she knew it was nothing. He had betrayed her, he had taken everything from her over some stupid gambling debt, but all the anger she had harbored vanished as she felt her last breath fall from her lungs. Nothing would ever compare to her death in the hands of this brutal, dark demon.

The following post includes words of a third party. These words are posted with the third party's consent.

--The following transcript was a live chat roleplay--


Valon: Her dead weight felt like nothing in his grip. He watched as the blood became little more than a slow flow down her chest, her breathing slowing to a ragged drag as her breasts barely heaved with their fight for air. The bright, shimmering blue of her eye had faded to a pale grey as she watched from the corner of her vision, the face of the man that had so brutally murdered her. He could feel her pulse in her throat as he gripped it tighter, feeling her windpipe strain beneath the force as the idea of merely killing her entered his brain again. He had to repeat to himself that he intended a better purpose for her. He could hear her heart, once hammering against her chest with strength and speed in her fear, adrenaline pumping thickly through her veins, and now just a faint thump beneath her flesh. It was slow, labored, her blood pumping from her as it spread across the floor in a crimson pool.

As he felt her heart begin to fail, her eyes widening as her body began to relax, he lifted his left wrist, free of the burden of her body, and pressed it to his lips. Fangs tearing into the flesh, he opened a vein, his blood flowing from the clean puncture in a thick stream. Just as her final sigh passed through parted lips, her body shuddering once in his grip before falling limp, his wounded wrist found itself against her mouth. His thumb eased the pressure on her windpipe, letting the crimson ooze down her throat as she hung, feet twitching faintly as her body settled into death. A healthy amount of the fluid flowed from him, spilling over her parted lips, a thin stream flowing from the corner of her mouth and down her neck, her form twitching again before her lips closed, swallowing. She hung from his grip for a moment longer, before he pulled her from the wall and dropped her small frame over his shoulder. He shifted beneath her, hoisting her up before he turned and picked up her bag from the floor, his arm locked around her waist. He slid into the shadows a second time, moving through the restaurant carrying her over his back as he avoided lines of sight, lighted areas, and close proximities. Slipping out of the building undetected, he stepped into the streets.

A slow breath left him, his eyes moving over the near deserted sidewalk. He was fortunate. It was late, most people had gone home for the night. He turned, her limp legs swaying with the motion as he carried her quickly from the front door of the restaurant, the leather of her belt pressing into his cheek as he moved. Coming to the edge of the river, his eyes swept down one end of the bend, and across to the other. He saw no one, that faint smirk twisting his lips again before he shifted her weight higher on his shoulder, before tossing her lifeless form into the river, a loud splash in the darkness told him that he'd found his mark. He rolled his shoulder, realizing exactly how weightless she had really been, and shook his head, opening her bag. He took anything useful, I.D., wallet, money, and tossed what was left along with the bag after her, another much smaller splash echoing the first before the darkness swallowed her.

She would find him soon. He was sure she was at least good enough for such a small test. He flipped through the belongings he had retained as he turned his back to the riverbank. In the distant light of the streetlamp, he could make out the words on her license. Tarisyn. Unique. Tennessee? Interesting. So she was American. A strangely named, very brave, very beautiful American. Already, he was enjoying learning about her. That twisted smirk still pulled across his lips, he flipped the cards into his palm and stuffed them into the pocket of his jacket, strolling back toward the sewer. It was past time that he had headed back to the Quarantine Zone, to the hotel Lobby where he had set up shop. It was turning out to be a less than typical night afterall.

Saige: It was late. She turned the key in the lock and shifted her purse to her other shoulder, putting the keys away in it and zipping it shut. She smiled lightly to herself, waving the last and final customer off for the night. She truly loved her job, and it showed. She didn't mind helping Velia at both locations - she would do anything that the woman asked of her. She loved her.

Turning to head towards the station, a little added bounce to her step, she hummed a little tune to herself under her breath and bobbed her head to the soft beat. One hand clutched to the straps of her purse as her other played with the ruffled hem of her blouse, her dark curls bouncing with each bob to her head. She did her best not to dwell on the thoughts that loomed in the back of her mind. Thoughts of her missing her family. Three so far had left, and Saige couldn't help but wonder if anyone else would go to Mexico too. Roderic had told her thats where Juliet was, and that he was going to find her. She only wished he would have stopped and picked her up too - she would have gone with him if he had. But one day he was in Harper Rock, and the next, well, all she could see was the same place that Juliet was in. So she figured he had found her and they were enjoying themselves. Then a month later Saige had checked on Athena only to find her in the same place. It didn't look very glamorous; Mexico, but Saige was just happy they had all found each other. Family was what mattered above all.

She cross the street and tried to stay in the street lamp light that seeped onto the ground like smoke over the river. She came to it and was forced to walk along it, not having a power that allowed her to just navigate through it. She kept her tone soft and under her breath, not trying to attract attention to herself. She was as happy go lucky as ever, and her phone buzzed in her purse and she stopped to unzip it and dig around in it to find the small vibrating object. Tipping to the side and shifting her weight to the side, she expertly only let one strap slip from her shoulder as the rummaged in the giant bag that was her designer purse big enough to fit a small dog. She finally found it and returned the strap, not bothering to zip it closed again as she checked the message. She giggled then, and quickly typed one back to Velia to confirm that she was indeed glad that the woman had finally purchased ‘The Notebook’ on blu-ray and that they were all set to watch it together tonight.

Continuing along on her walk Saige stopped humming and started typing in another text to her childe Saki, making sure that the woman knew she was still thinking of her, when suddenly she heard a giant splash. Saige looked up, across the river, just in time to see a dark but obviously male figure dumping something into it. What was that, she wondered, warm blue hues trailing from him to the ice cold waters in front of her. At first she didn’t see anything, but then she saw the purse he had tossed. And then something else caught her eye, something that made her pale complexion pale even more. Was that a body?! Saige gasped, blinked, still staring, and gasped again as she put her free hand to her mouth. “Oh...my gosh!”


She didn’t waste any time, moving quickly to put her phone back into her purse and pull it from her shoulder, dropping it to the ground and in the same motion with her hands pulling her shoes off one at a time in mid stride to the rivers edge. She pushed into the ice cold water - even though she was naturally cold the water was still freezing - and just as the water came up to her neck and felt the drop off, she was able to reach out and grasp something of the persons, a piece of clothing as she pulled her to her and then shifted under her, hoisting her up with one arm around her side to pull her to the shore. “Hold on, I’ve got you…” She reassured quietly, eyes glancing around then trained on the female intently. She had to be okay. Saige wouldn’t be okay if the woman was dead.

Tarisyn: She had been drifting.
For a split second in the last few horrible months, she had been at peace.

The water, the roaring silence, the icy grip of the current as it pulled her further out - it had been peaceful, but it had been shattered. When she felt her savior pull her to the surface, she didn’t even try to fight her. She wanted to. She wanted to stay within the lake, end up like whatever other victim he had discarded, but that hadn’t been her option. As her body hit the ground, the blonde rolled over and began to cough, water spewing from her mouth as she emptied it from her lungs. The pain should have been horrible, but she found herself able to handle it as she lifted a soaked hand and ran it through her curls and over her neck. Panic began to fill her, but as her fingers brushed over the smooth skin, confusion calmed her.

“What happened?” she demanded, her voice hoarse. No thank you was given to the stranger with kind eyes filled with concern and fear for her. She was too caught up in trying to remember the night and how she had ended up in the water. It came back in quick, violent pieces, clicking together in her mind much like a puzzle. The murder of her husband, the bittersweet taste of his revenge, the accusing stares, the traveling, and finally, the murderous amusement in the eyes of a brutal killer. That was the last thing she saw before her memory was stained red. Jerking upright, Tarisyn tugged her fingers roughly through her hair as she began to frantically look around them. “Where is he?” she whispered, finally.

“Where did he go? What did he do to me?” she fired off question after question as she struggled to her feet. She wasn’t going to give this woman a chance to answer her. Patting down her jeans, she realized that not only did he attack her, he robbed her too. “I should go to the cops,” she said as she turned her wild, frantic gaze to the buildings around them. “He needs to be stopped!” she shouted, but even as she did, something inside of her told her that wasn’t a good idea. It seemed to twist into her chest, and she knew that she had to find him. Who would believe her, anyways? Running her hand over her face, the blonde turned her gaze back to the woman, still kneeling, and probably a bit frightened.

“I’m sorry, thanks. Of course, thank you,” she said, before she began to back away. Why was she thanking her? Maybe she had been in on it. It was a little too coincidental for her. Maybe it was a partnership, a plan they had brought up together. After all, he had fangs - and this woman, much smaller than her, had been able to drag her body out of the water. When she was certain her legs would work, she took a step back, and then another. She had to find him. She had to have answers. Giving the stranger one last look, committing her face to memory, Tarisyn turned on her heel and bolted up the sidewalk and into the shadows.

She was going to get her answers.

Valon: The shotgun’s barrel rammed firmly into the zombie’s breast, just over its heart and stopped it firmly in its tracks. The force of the impact jolted the shotgun in his hand, superhuman grip keeping its stock locked against his bicep as the decayed head snapped back with the stopping power of the blow. A low, haunted moan trailed from the damaged lungs as the rotted flesh of its arms lifted, filling the air with its foul stench once again as it tried to reach out for him. The glass lenses that protected his eyes were splashed with blood, his dark stare hidden behind the greasy smudge of dark ooze.

His lips twisted into that faint smirk, the one that usually crossed his features as he looked on his living opponent for the last time. It happened in a second, but in his mind it lasted for days. The trigger pulled, every nanometer an epic journey of itself as it glided flawlessly along the well-kept guide. The primer dropped, the charge in the shell flashing to life, exploding and causing the weapon to buck a second time as the shot rocketed down the barrel’s length, propelled by the explosion. The heavy slugs slammed into the rotted flesh, breaking the brittle bones in the chest as the heart nearly exploded out its back. Gore shot from the walking corpse, spraying across the lobby floor as the zombie was thrown from its feet and crashed against the hardwood, rolling until it came to a stop.

He rolled his tongue in his mouth, grazing along his teeth before spitting blood into the floor at the creature’s feet. They were filthy things, really. He could have thought of a thousand places he would rather be, a thousand faces he’d rather see with that vacant, glassy-eyed stare as its jaw went slack and its chest sighed a final breath. He pulled the black cloth from his coat pocket, running it along the barrel’s mouth, pulling away strips of rotted flesh and decayed skin, before he tossed the cloth back into his coat. He was nearly finished for the night. He slung the weapon over his shoulder, letting it slide easily into the bandolier holster strapped across his chest, its weight pressed against his back as he pulled the knife from the strap at his thigh.

He moved toward the creature, the blade hissing in the air as it slipped from the carbon fiber sheath, its razor sharp edge flashing in the flickering lights of the hotel lobby. He doubted the lights actually flickered as badly as they seemed, he was still adjusting to the way he could see such small details as the pulses of the fluorescent bulbs, flashing at fractions of a second while they appeared as a steady stream of light to the mortal eye. He knelt next to the corpse, looking down at its rotting face. He’d shot it several times in the fight, once nearly ripping that face clear off its head. He couldn’t even register if the thing had been man or woman before it had become… this. It didn’t matter.

The blade rested against its ear as he pulled the sharp edge across the loose flesh, the piece coming clean from the side of the head with next to no effort. He understood little of rituals, or why they would require something so unseemly, but it raked in the money, collecting such unsavory bits of odds and ends, and the ears were always in demand. He opened the pack on his belt and slid the ear into its place next to the others, clipping it shut as he ran the edge of his knife over the dead figure’s tattered clothing. ”Thanks.” he muttered to the dead, destroyed face as he stood, slipping the knife back into its place at his thigh. He turned, eyes moving over the lobby. Things had slowed down, fewer and fewer creatures found until he stood mostly alone in the room.

He took a slow breath and moved to one of the walls by the bar, his back pressing against the hard surface as he pulled the shotgun from around his form, letting it rest against his shoulder, barrel placed against the floor as he slid down, finally resting in a seated position as he let his head fall back against the wall. It had been a profitable evening, and he had given his charge quite the trail. All he had left to do for the night, was to wait and see exactly how well he had really chosen.