(Forgive me for the Rise Against reference in the title. This is a continuation of the “Introducing, Alex braun!” Topic on the old forums. It can be found here, along with the previous topic “Hunter in the Dark”: http://www.vermillionworks.com/forum/viewforum.php?f=12

I chose to re-name the topic instead of just add "“ because Alex has already been introduced, and there seems to be another shift in the lot, mostly the approaching clan, which may be ”Drones" of a new, even more powerful villain.

Enjoy!)

LAST TIME ON VP RP:

“We have to sieze the moments we have, eh?”

————

“I hope that's agreeable to everyone, because we have just officially run out of time. If you have anything to say, now would be a really good time.”

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“I can be a distraction… I guess Drake would like that.”

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“Don't hide your mistakes, because they'll find you, burn you…”

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“Enough! It won't come to that.”

We both know it will

————

“John… I'm pregnant…”


AND NOW, THE STORY CONTINUES…

*posted my last post here for easy reference and to get the ball rolling*

Drake rubbed his forehead. Things were not going well. Every moment he spent here Memnoch would be that bit closer to finding him. He flexed his back, the muscles rippling.
“Honestly i don't care what you do Sarah. This whole thing is tiring. I want this resolved, thats the end it.”

Chains!

Echoing screams, pleading voices. Followed by the clinking of tightening chains and the sound of tearing flesh. Cries of pain and splashes of tears hit the ground.
“I won't suffer their screams”

Now or later, then? if Memnoch catches you he'll take us back and you'll have to do it over and over…

“Stop it” Drake said quietly.

…Over and over and over…

“Enough! It won't come to that.” His shadow grinned.

We both know it will…

Nick looks at Drake, growing more wary of him by the second. “Do we have a problem?” he asks in a low voice. “If not, I would suggest that we all take up our positions. We do have the small matter of some imminent violence approaching.”

“There is an old friend of mine, in the city” said Drake wistfully. “maybe we'll meet him soon.” Drake jumped away, getting into position. He was worried Memnoch had to be here for a reason, the clan would need him and the others to much to let them leave.

The same could be said for you. They never would have let us go voluntarily, and only someone of greater skill would have been able to track us

His shadow said with deathly seriousness. It had moved back to being a normal shadow, content to save energy.
“We have an advantage, Memnoch is too through, it will take him awhile reach us and approach us.”

Yes, but when he does it will be in his complete advantage.

Drake landed in a niche within a buildings ruined roof overlooking the street. He peeked his head over looking every where. There was a flash of black. A large glint.
“The chance of fighting him?”
A crumbling rock tumbled from a nearby cornice.

Nil…

Sarah looks off where Drake leaves, and shrugs. “Alex?” she turns to Alex, “I guess we should get started.”

“Of Course.” Alex nods curtly to Sarah, praying that the last of his vampire strength would last him the rest of the battle. He was going to save it for the final strike, a small sized earth quake, violent enough to knock a dozen or so more to the gorund, and swallow many of them up. “Good Luck, is that what we say nowaday?” Alex muses for a moment, wondering the correct phrase one would say on the eve of battle. His thoughts drifted to Shakespear for a moment. 'Once more into the breaches, once more if he remembered correctly.

***

Amila suddenly stands up, feeling at ill ease. She starts to pace, which could be rather amusing to Tor, watching a tiny human pace backwards and forwards pointlessly.
“I don't like this…” She says to herself. “Something doesn't feel right…” Her old fear of fleeing from danger started to pump in the back of her head, and she found it hard frighting the rising fear in her throat. “I hope Nick is going to be alright.” she says finally, sitting back down next to Tor.

Tor hides a chuckles as Amila paces. “They'll be fine…” Tor reassures her.
Although he thinks to himself, 'Right?'

————————

Sarah nods as Alex thinks. “Yeah, that's right,” She chuckles, “but ‘Try not to get killed,’ would also work.”

She begins to hover slightly above the ground, and salutes Nick, as she begins to drift off toward their destination.

Ziarre's absent mindedness had caused her to miss half of what was happening, but she wasn't that worried about it.
What she was worried about was Drake. He continued to… creep her out. The fact that his shadow nearly attacked her didn't help either.
Ziarre watched Sarah float away, an eyebrow raised. She blew at a strand of hair that was floating in her face.

(OOC: Sorry I dropped off the face of the Earth, again. But I'm back, for good I hope.)

Drake peered over the edge the tramping of boots echoed up the road. He had been right twenty-thirty of them. All coming this way…

We don't have time for this!

“We're doing it for the others, they'll need our help” argued Drake. He combed back his hair. Peering down the street he could see a few of them already.He checked his gauntlets then looked around for any signs of Nick.

Fine then. If you must do it. Then do it quick. Chain them and lets get out of here!

“No!” A bird flew away scared by a nearby presence. “I'm not that person anymore, i couldn't do it” The sounds of ripping flesh, cracking bones and harsh screaming, resonated from his memory, punishing him with guilt.

Then I'll do it! You'll always be that person! Because I'm always part of you. We are two in one and i will always help you.

"fine…

Nick steps out of the shadows next to Drake, crouching down to avoid being seen. He gives a low, quiet wistle as he sees how many clansmen are headed towards them. “Good thing you warned us, Drake,” he says quietly as he sizes up the clansmen. “I doubt any of us could have taken this many on our own. If they were nice and attacked one or two at a time, maybe, but as it is they'd just swarm over anyone who tried…”

He shifts his weight uncomfortably. “I thnk a slight revision of our role is in order… instead of jumping in and standing our ground, we keep shadow-jumping around their ranks. Jump in, strike someone, then jump out before they know what hit them. It won't be as distracting, but it'll keep us alive. What do you say?”

Drake hears Nick's quiet footsteps, followed by his dull whistle. He rubbed his eyes, he hadn't slept in days and maintaining two consciousness's was taking it's toll. He breathed in heavily, focusing his energy. Drake said monosyllabicly
“I don't have much time” He breathed in heavily again, his hair falling forwards over his face. Drake didn't bother to move it.
“God forgive me” He nodded and his shadow coiled round his arm winding its way up before worming it's way into his ear. He gasped, tilting his head up to the moon. Faint wiggling lines snaked under his skin, never once breaking the surface. Drake was grimacing,his eyes screwed shut. Suddenly shadow Chains burst from all over his body. flailing menacingly before sinking deep into the floor. The shadows all around them flickered and twisted. Drake opened his eyes, there cores glowing blood red…

(OOC sorry for taking so long)

A man sits in the distance, watching what's going on. He smiles. “Kids…” He wears a gray and red robe, long enough to cover his 8'7" height. he has a hairstyle which resembles Tor's, but it lacks the white patches, and the back falls down to where his legs begin. He flicks his wrist and a sword appears, the blade larger than himself. He looks down, and sees Sarah and Alex sneaking behind the clan. He smiles, and opens his eyes. The pupils are yellow, and the white of his eyes is replaced with a blood red. He bears four fangs on his upper jaw.

His sword disappears, and a hood forms on the back of his robe. He pulls it over his head, and drops to street level. He walks, slowly, knowing well that he cannot be sensed. He strangely bears no scent, and could very well be just a mirage in the distance.

After all, who would believe Caine still lived?

(OOC: This is the guy I was talking about in the OOC topic. For now, I'll introduce him as a character, but he currently will not battle, due to the fact that the character is supposed to be near invincible, and can only be killed a certain way.)
———————————-

Tor closes his eyes. He feels his hand burning once again, but it is faint. It doesn't hurt as much as before, but the mark still glows. He looks at Amila, “If it would make you feel alright, we could go out to the roof and see what's going on. I personally want to see how my sireling will do.”

He sighs, and scratches under his glove. He grunts, confused, looking at his hand. “Why is this happening?” he mumbles to himself.

Everything becomes discolored in the room for a moment, and then the door opens. Tor doesn't notice as the hooded man steps in and slowly walks behind him.

Amila runs a quick hand through her hair, noting that it was starting to feel greasy, and for a moment the blissful thought of taking a deep hot bath made her smile slightly. She shakes her head. “I-I don't want to see any more bloodshed for a while…” Her face has gone a pale, her hand resting on her stomach. “It would make me sick…”

She watches him carefully. “But you can go if you want…”

Amila sees Tor grunt as he looks down at his hand. She recahes out to touch his hand. “Are you hurt? If it was a cut or something I can wrap it up for you…” Amils looks up, and gives a blood curdling scream, scrambling back as she sees a tall, hoodedn man walk into the room on silent feet. He was huge, stooping in the small hallway.

The hooded man smiles, chuckling at her reaction. He takes a few steps forward, and completely phases through Tor. Tor seems as if he hasn't noticed anything, remaining calm.

“He can't hear you.” The man says. He speaks with an accent, one which sound very familiar. It sounds like a deeper and more demonic version of Tor's. “He can't even touch you…”

The man is suddenly behind Amila, holding her arms to her sides. His middle fingers touch around her waist, and he puts his face really close to her ear. “None of this is real…” he hisses. His tongue falls from his mouth to about Amila's shoulder length, and grazes her neck and cheek before zipping back into his mouth. He shoves her across the room toward Tor.

“Ha ha ha. I've so rarely revealed myself to a human… and not intended them to be killed…” He removes his hood, and it disappears from his cloak. His eyes pierce the darkness and look into her soul. “Allow me to introduce myself…”

He chuckles lightly, "My name is Aelfrick Fry. I believe you are a friend of my son."

Plunging, twisting, writhing, the chains spilled from Drake's body, rushing into the shadows. His skin undulated as the links passed underneath; rippling up and down. Down in the street, Tens of chains sprang from the shadows, coiling like a hydra's heads. Drake stretched out his hands; the nightmarish conductor ready to begin his symphony. Soaring his hands, the chains reacted instantly, reeling backwards. Before a driving crescendo; chains striking forwards tearing into flesh. Tears began to roll down drake's cheeks, his face a mask of guilt and inner betrayal.
With a twist of the hand, the chains dug in; either wrapping themselves around or biting with their tiny hooks. Crying screams and screaming cries. Terrible desperate cries choked with pain. Slowly with a powerful diminuendo; the chains started to retract. More screams, joints popped, bones cracked. With an explosive finish, Drake threw apart his arms. There was a shrieking chorus and a wet slap before the silence, deafening cold silence.
The chains rewound, rattling back into the shadows. They emerged from the shadows beside Drake's feet,a slight crimson smear along their length. Then sucking back into his body; the flesh closed around the exit wounds. He turned, walking away. As he walked past Nick, he placed a gauntlet on his shoulder; whispering the words.
“Don't look, it's not anything you'll want to see. I don't have much time; He'll be here soon and i have to rest.”

For a brief second a tall man could be seen amongst the remains before disappearing, he turned over few,until reaching down, with a cold pale hand, he picked up a silent heart…

Tor sits in the room. There is a silence between himself and Amila. He looks over to her. She seems entranced. She's breathing slowly, taking in deep breaths before releasing, and her blinking has completely stopped. She stares blankly forward. Tor cocks one eyebrow before waving a hand in front of her face. Nothing happens. He sighs, and falls back in the chair he sits in.

——————–
The Man, now identified as “Aelfric Fry” chuckles as his son looks at the girl. He nor Amila can see what he sees, and he cannot see them. To Tor, Amila is merely in a physical meditation. Amila, however sees Tor only examining the air.

“A fun trick isn't it. It's magic that vampires cannot preform. I seem to know quite a lot of it… Unfortunately that human mother of his watered down my powers, making him the equivalent of a normal vampire, with certain exceptions. Many of which are merely physical…” Aelfric pauses. He's hunched, but his head is almost at level with Amila's while standing. “Ah. I see you're still in a panic… don't worry. Unlike every other human he's ever cared for, I won't kill you.”

——————–
Sarah creeps along rubble, as the clan creeps in the streets beside her. She sighs, before nodding to Alex and then jumping out of her place, behind the vampires.

Amila feels her head racing. None of this should have happened, this was beyond what she was capable of understanding. She feels herself starting to sweat and shiver at the same time. Her mind then goes blank, and she is unable to move in the prescence of such evil. Her hand goes numbly to clutch the small cross around her neck, in some hopes of giving her comfort. It does little, nor does it send this apparation away. Amila crouches on the floor, wrapping her arms around her head, rocking backwards and forwards.

“This is a dream, this is a dream..” She mumbles quietly to herself, horrified at the intense, evil vision her mind had created. “He's not here, Tor will protect me..” she says feebly. She starts to sob quietly.

_________________

Alex nods to Sarah, summons his mana and pulls out his sword, he feels his mind reeling with the thought of killing, and for a moment, he thinks of running. But running before gave him etneral life. He wasn't running again. He bares his teeth, using a summoning spell to hide his back pack away safe. Unhindred, he's ready for battle. Then he hears the screams of men as their limbs are ribbed away from thier bodies, the moans as metal scraps against bone. The howls of blind instinct to run. Alex is nearly sick. But he holds it back, and leaps out with Sarah, and with out any hesitation, runs into the vampire, wielding his long sword with both hands, and starting fighting for his life.

Aelfric smiles. He seems to enjoy the pain she's in. “You're right. In a sense, this is a dream… But it's also a reality. Imagine the room inside of a bubble. Inside this bubble, the room is free from the rest of the world. Now, Imagine Tor outside the bubble, although in the vicinity of it… in his own little bubble so to speak. He cannot see what's going on in our bubble, and sees only what is outside of the bubble.”

Aelfric pauses. He begins to mumble to himself. “I lost my place… No matter.” He turns to Amila. He picks her up, grabbing her small arm between his large fingers. “I would like to inform you EVERYTHING. Why do I feel this way?” he drops her, and turns his back. He shrugs and closes his eyes smiling, “I even do not know. Consider it a…” he turns, and opens his eyes, “A game. Dungeons and Dragons. Ancient game. I used to watch people play before I ate them. The ‘dungeon master’ knows more than the players. Imagine I'm the dungeon master. You, a player, are sitting closer to me than anyone else… if I were to mumble my plan to myself, you may hear it… Understand?”

He stands up. His head comes near to hitting the ceiling. It becomes apparent that, although his height was apparent from the beginning, he was crouching slightly the whole time. “So go on. Ask me anything about myself or my son… I if were to, say, recite an answer to myself loudly, you would find out… right?”

It's apparent that he wants her to play his twisted little game.

“I have nothing to lose. Tor wouldn't believe anything. To him, and everyone who isn't in this metaphorical bubble, you're merely sitting there blankly.”

Amila is too stunned to give any reaction she listens to the demon. She truley feared she was going insane, and was aware of every moment. She whimpered and struggled feebly to get out of his grasp. She lands with a ‘thud’ on the floor and scampers away from him.

“Get out of my head! Please! I don't want anymore!” She sobbed. “Nick! Nick! SOMEONE!” She screams at the top of her lungs, then suddeny, drops her head and goes quiet.,

“Alright! I'll play your game, I'll play.” She whispers, but no doubt this man, no this monster can hear everything around him with ease. “Why appear now?”

Aelfric's ear twitches, as she speaks. His eyes are closed. He takes a seat, and opens his eyes. “Because I'm bored. I have lived so long… Tormented so many, killed… eaten… it's not too fun. I'm the second generation of humans. The human bible; the books; they never mention what happened to me after I killed Able. And what it said happened was wrong to an extent.”

He turns to his son, now staring at the door. “The only fun I've ever had recently was killing those important to my son. How strange was it that one person I killed… Something Hawk… His sister was the first sireling of my son… Now that she's reappeared, all the Retsnom but myself and Alexander are gathered in one group. It's the perfect time to strike.”

He stands up, and offers a hand to her. “Get up.”

Amila's eyes go wide. Was he truley old as that? If he was sick of killing people, why didn't he instead change his ways and help humanity, teach them lost secrets, do some good. She was too scared right now to even form an opinion about this man.

She looks away from the hand, shaking her head. Amila didn't want any contact with this man. She refuses to move. She is only worried about Aelfirc hurting Nick.

Aelfric looks down at her. “Get up,” he says again, “You look too much like Tor's mother and love before I killed them. I feel the same feeling of disgust for the weak.” He puls his hand back. “Hmmm… Maybe this will help.”

Aelfric puts his hand over his face, and begins to mold it. His face seems to become clay in his hands, and he pulls it away. His face now looks less sinister. His eyes are no longer red, but the same as Tor's. His face now seems a lot less evil. “This is the face that won over Tor's mother.” his face now resembles Tor's more, and Tor's uncontrolled hypnosis over woman can be seen in this face too, yet more controlled.

“Now,” he holds out his hand. His nails are smaller, and his hand is softer. He smiles, “Get up.”

Amila feels something side her snap, this utter sense of dispair. She wasn't going to get through this by being stubbon or smart or foolhardy. Hell she was barely even in any psyhical shape to fight, mentally she wasn't up for the challenge. Amila hates herself, but she forces her small shakey hand to take hold of Aelfrics. She is nearly sick with the contact, barely controlling the heaving motions.

Aelfric smirks. He steps back and turns. his hands are clasped behind his back, “Now, ask another question…”

(OOC: I'm kind of out of things to post…)

———————-

Tor looks at Amila. A bead of sweat falls down her head. He puts out his finger, and gently pushes the sweat off. He stands, and steps toward the door. He touches his hand. There is a faint burn, but it's otherwise fine.

Amila closes her eyes. This feels as if it is dragging on forever. She has to try and calm herself down. Amila clenches her hands into tight fists, digging her nails hard into her palms. The pain offers some releif.

Sweat is running down the side of her face, her throat is dry. She licks her dry lips, and plunges in with the next question.

“What is the Retsnom, and why do you know all this?”

Aelfric turns at the question. He smiles, and his face returns to normal. “I was hoping you would ask that…”

He lifts his right sleeve, and shows her the birthmark on his hand. “This, is the mark of Caine. The mark God himself put on me. It gave me immortality. Later, Lilith gave me a curse… the curse of early vampirism.”

He steps closer. “But, I am no normal vampire. I gained power beyond them. I am able to go in daylight, I cannot die of decapitation, I have access to magic no vampire can use, and I can spread normal vampirism and the abilities of Retsnom separately.”

He stands up straight, “What is a Retsnom? Retsnom is what word Tor's mother called him when he was young. Retsnom is Monster backwards. Retsnom is what Tor's primal instinct personified calls itself. The legend of the Retsnom is a legend I started a long time ago; a legend of a beast that attacks whole cities. It has an unquenchable thirst for blood, and is Caine, the first vampire. I was also the only person to survive the attack,but I disappeared before I was photographed. The beast, which anyone would refer to as the Legendary Retsnom is my true form. Did you happen to see me earlier? I looked like a giant bat?”

He steps forward, “Well, Tor is one too. He had that form Dromant in himself, but doesn't know. If he were to call out to Lilith, his arms in the sky, ‘I will make the deal,’ she shall appear. It happened to me. She gives the weak Retsnom new powers.”

He smiles, “The most useful is the lack of a need for blood… But that one comes with a price. It comes with an unquenchable thirst for blood, despite the lack of a need. Thus, the person is thrust into a blood lust for as long as they live. You metaphorically lose your soul in the process. That is why I am the way I am, and why my eyes are so red.”

“Tor, however, is weak. His mother diluted my powers. He cannot use all magic, and he needs blood. He also has ‘morals.’ He cannot transform either. BUT if he were to bite another vampire, the vampire would become a Retsnom at his level. They, however, can make the deal. I can turn vampires and turn humans to Retsnom. My saliva alone makes a normal vampire at the strength saliva and blood would make a vampire, but if my blood is given as well, they become a retsnom. They are easily identified by four fangs.”

He turns. Suddenly, he grows his skin turns a light gray, and spikes burst from all parts of his body. Wings burst from his shoulders. His clothes tear to shreds, and reveal a lack of genitalia. He turns. “THIS IS THE TRUE FORM…” He says, before returning to normal, fully clothed, and smiling.

“I can give you the power if you ever want… Just call to me, and you will be one of us in a second…” He pauses, “But there's a catch. Lilith's curse… There's only a .000000000007% chance of survival. There's a larger chance that Tor will defeat me as I we are now.”

He smiles, “Don't worry. At his current strength, he's just a normal vampire. He won't try to kill himself, so he won't find out on his own for a loooooong time. I mean, he just recently accepted he's a vampire. Around 120 years ago.

”I know all this because I watch your group, and because I am one. I know more about you than you know… Let's just say I've watched you before Tor had, and changed my goal after he met you…“

Aelfric looks around. ”Well… I think I must be off…“ He turns to Amila. ”Don't forget that offer… I may need a new birth mother if Alexander fails me…“

—————————

Suddenly, there's a flash. the room seems discolored for a second. The next thing Amila knows, she's sitting where she was before Aelfric entered. There is blood smeared on her palm in the shape of the Mark of Caine.

”Are you alright? You seemed out of it…" Tor says. He's half out the door, and closes it as he returns into the room.

If only he had looked out, he would see Aelfric slowly exiting through the staircase, humming a light tune.

Amila listens, barly accepting any of the information, but she can't keep her eyes off his face, until he suddenly changes into a monster. Amila falls back into a corner, cowering in fear. Suddenly, she back into the room. Amila now freaks, looking at the warm stain of blood on her palm. She stumbles up, ignoring the protest from her body. She starts to breath quickly, never letting her eyes off the blood staining her hand. Amila wipes her hands against the wall, removing the stain from her hand, but she can still feel it there. She looks to Tor with wide, fearful eyes and can't stop shaking.

“Cain…cain…he's back!” She says, her eyes reeling about the room in search of him. Amila collasps in a sobbing heap on the floor, crying uncontrollably.

Tor looks at her confused. “Caine? Caine from my story?” Tor looks at her as if she's insane. “You were just sitting here staring into space… I think you're letting you're imagination get the best of you…”

He sits back. “Just calm down.” He puts his hand on her shoulder. She's warm. He puts his hand on her forehead. “Do you have a fever? You're sweating.”

Drake gasped, his eyes sprang open. He dove forwards moments before a huge slab roared over his head. Drake tumbled forwards, turning swiftly to look at his aggressor.
“Memnoch!” Drake choked out, his voice soaked with pain. All his wounds had re-opened as he rolled, dripping black oil from the holes in his clothes. Memnoch effortlessly swung his zanbato onto his shoulder, barely straining despite the size of the huge sword.
“As wily as ever, Drake. Glad to see you remember all our games.” Smiled Memnoch. Memnoch's sword began to fall from his shoulder, before his body suddenly blurred. Drake dove flat. Menoch's zanbato flew overhead in a backwards sweep. “heh.” Drake started to crawl forwards, but Memnoch slammed his sword into the floor, sending sharps of stone everywhere and forcing Drake to roll to one side.
“I'm not going back, Memnoch!” Sheathing his sword on his back, Memnoch laughed.
“You couldn't stop me if i was taking you. No, Our clan has dissolved, Janus got whacked. Melchior sent me to check if your doing fine on your own” He pulled Drake up to his feet. Using his hand he ruffled Drake's dark hair. "Just you and me little brother…

(P.s nearly finished my comics preview page)

Amila cringes when Tor touches her, she pulls away from him quickly, crossing to the other side of the room, rummaging around in her backpack to find her small bible. She sits with her back to him, letting the page open randomly. She starts to read the words, but they fail to settle in her mind, dissolving away into nothingness. She searches for a while, until finding the passage of the death od Abel. Amila traces a few lines with a shaky hand, indeed finding the monster's story feasible, to a level. She manages to dry her eyes, choosing not to speak of what had just happened.

“I-I going to go upstairs for a while.” Amila suddenly says, closing her bible and leaving the room quickly. The rattle of her feet echo away from Tor, leaving him alone.

Amile breathes in the open air of the rooftop gratefully, gluping it in as if it were her last ever. She tries to make sesne of the demon. It must be a vampire messing with her mind or something, she finally decides. Amila then instantly regrets leaving Tor's company, the feeling of isolation setting in. And yet, she can't go back down to sit with him. Her hand goes to the small gun, and she contemplates s the idea of suicide. But it would be a sin, and that would send her straight to hell, not matter the reason for the suicide. Amila feels trapped by her faith which had once given her so much comfort. She suddenly rips the small golden cross from around her neck, holding it out in her hand. With a frustrated cry, she throws it out into the city, the small ‘chink’ of metal landing no so far from Drake's feet….