Ravinter's Story

Of all the night creatures that had begun to stir, none were so silent or deadly as Ravinter. Hidden within the shadows of his deep black cloak, he stepped with a sure confidence through the brush beneath tall, foreboding trees that cast their shadows as if giving permission for the hunt.

The undergrowth faded from lush green to dead brown as it was touched by the booted feet of the last original Vampyr Lord. He writhed inside with hatred and loathing for what the world had become, for what his people had become, for the humans that now believed their place was other than on their knees in fear-induced worship.

The fading light had always brought death, for that was when the hunt began. Ravinter looked up to the darkening sky and revealed his fangs in what was almost a smile. Be it vampire or human, he would feast tonight and each of his feasts would strengthen him, help to restore the world to its former glory. Every feast brought rise to the glorious return of the true vampire race. His body burned with anticipation.

Ravinter's cloak did not stir as a slight breeze blew past. The monster's hunger stirred, however, as he caught the scent of a horse. The hunt was starting early than he expected.

With a hunger and thirst that burned through his long-dead veins, Ravinter rushed forward towards the horse's scent. After only a moment, he could hear the sounds of the horse's hooves. More importantly, he could hear the steady th-thump, th-thump, th-thumping of a human heart. A woman's heart.

It beat faster than it should have. The woman was clearly feeling the dark, dark presence of the ancient hunter. He revelled in this and allowed the darkness to grow, inviting night where there should yet be day left. The sky began to darken as a grey mist grew from underfoot.

The first stars should have been showing now, but the sky seemed to shift ever-quickeningly to the deep purple of night.

Ravinter took in the air's scent, the woman's scent, as he closed in on her. It had been a long time since he had fed on a human woman and the smell of her was intoxicating.

As the horse reared, Ravinter allowed himself to dissipate into the rising shadows and fog. As his presence merged with the darkness, the fog changed from dark grey to black and began to churn above the gravel path the woman had fallen on.

Ravinter's presence pervaded the woods and the blackness deepened. Silence had fallen on the woods, drowned by the thickness of the fog, and even the woman's call travelled no further than a few feet. As he smelled the blood pulse from her hand, it was tempting to devour her now. The modern day 'vampyrs' would have done, but that was part of their weakness, it made them pathetic, set them apart from the majesty of the Lords Ravinter was once ruler of. He waited, knowing the greatest taste came from the richest of fears.

The black fog danced about the woman's feet as she limped ever-so-slightly after her steed and a directionless voice spoke quietly, carressingly, "The darkness will devour you."

The voice both grated and rang smooth, a seductive tone that carried all the malice the hunter felt for this world he could no longer stand.

The voice chuckled, and the air filled with a sound like rusted metal brushed against stone. The woman's heart beat deafeningly to the ears of the vampyr, the panic was clearly settling in. But panic was not fear and the hunt was young.

The darkness had continued to grow, and now only blackness remained. Within that complete lack of light, an even darker blackness roiled and hatred thickened the air. Next to invisible, a small tendril extended from the surrounding fog and gently brushed against the woman's cheek. "So beautiful, so warm."

Ravinter's mist-like form retreated for the time being, unseen to the woman, and sat perched high above on a branch that had died the moment he returned to a solid form atop it. He silently watched the woman, heat rising throughout his body, and waited for the hunt to continue in the black of premature night.

Ravinter really did smile when he saw the woman run into the trees. He leaped forward, over the path and onto another tree. On and on he leaped as the woman tried to escape. From tree to tree he got ever closer to the prey, its blood pumped harder and harder as it ran and the hunter could smell it, almost taste the thick metallic life.

Stealth was not Ravinter's aim now and he broke branches as he passed every tree, letting the woman know her attempts were in vain. He salivated and licked his near-white lips in lustful hunger. He chuckled again, the sound somehow penetrating the thickness of the air, and it echoed against the trees as though more had joined the hunt. Soon.