Those Who Hunt Monsters

Iceheart · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Iceheart** on Sat Sep 27, 2008 11:03 pm

Hargrove reached down, shook his hand briskly, and said in his iciest voice "Charmed."

He set spurs to his gelding's flanks and went off at a trot, deeper into the village, looking for the Mayor's home. Instead of finding larger, grander buildings, the houses seemed to dwindle until they were little more than shacks. He knew he had taken a wrong direction, but something compelled him to keep on his present course. He told himself "perhaps the mayor lives off to himself, in a manor house, like," but he saw no manor house. But ahead, rising from the fog, was a cemetary. Row after row of wooden crosses and roughhewn gravestones, like a forest of dead things. Off to the side was a small cottage, a gravekeeper's house, most likely.

Hargrove, as if a man possesed, dismounted and hobled his gelding's legs. He drew his wheellock, praying the damp had not got to the powder. On slow, but steady legs, he started towards the gravekeeper's cottage, though all his mind told him he was a fool for doing so.

Rooster · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Rooster** on Sat Sep 27, 2008 11:11 pm

((Im out of the rp))

Irish Wolf · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Irish Wolf** on Mon Sep 29, 2008 12:33 am

Conlon watched as his hunters went about their perpetration's for the night's fun. He and two others remained in the The Mermaid. A pair of German Landsknechte turned hunters and how happened to be brothers. Nether spoke a lick of English but they understood orders and signed their names to the charter. They sat close, looking over the pile of junk and speaking softly in German, glancing over at their leader and then back at the pile. No doubt they were wondering how much they were going to get paid.

"Here" said Conlon, tossing them a few gold coins and pointing to himself, "I pay." With quick hands, the bothers snatched up the coins and nodded. Chuckling, the Irishmen stood up and pulled a few cloves of garlic from the Inn's doorway. Tossing two at the Landsknechte, he broke up a third and drew his side sword. Rubbing the oil from the fresh garlic on the blade, he added a deadly poison (to vampires) to the lethal weapon.

The three hunters look up and towards the door, as the sound of a musket being fired echoed through out the village. Wordlessly, all three rushed out into the deepening night, the Landsknechte flanking the hunter captain, three blades catching moonlight. Each of the Germans was armed with the two handed Zweihänder, a large blade used to cut through pike formations. Conlon suddenly halted, staring at Shelia and a distressed looking cow.

"What is going on?" He asked, puzzled.

tigerz-peace · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **tigerz-peace** on Mon Sep 29, 2008 6:16 am

Rosaliese giggled softly as she tugged on Elsie's hand, pulling her on. In the darkness they were able to move more freely, and as the half-moon rose an eerie white path was created. Upon a spur of the moment, Rosaliese allowed her steps to traverse the silver way.

As they approached the village, Rosaliese's grip tightened on Elsie's hand. The girls hunger was strong, but Rosaliese had to keep a tight grip on her - hastiness was not something she needed, especially with hunters about.

As she stepped into the looming disguise of the village houses, Rosaliese's head whipped around in the direction of the cemetery. With narrowed eyes Rosaliese's remained frozen in such a position while Elsie watched on in confusion. Of course, she was too young, too knew to smell what Rosaliese smelt.

Vampire.

How tempting it was for Rosaliese to go after that scent, but a tug of her hand reminded her of her charge. Elsie was hungry, and she had to feed. Shaking her head subtly, Rosaliese brought her fierce gaze to Elsie's, and as she looked upon the girl, one could say her expression almost softened.

They continued through the town, approached the home that Rosaliese happened to glance into on her way to collect Elsie. Upon reaching it, Rosaliese paused and turned to Elsie, lifting the young Vampire's chin to gaze down at her.

"One, two, buckle my shoe
Three, four, knock on her door
Five, six, ensure she's not sick
Seven, eight - never leave feeding too late."

Rosaliese's voice tilted and rose, swirled and danced upon ears. Eerie and frightening, it slipped through cracks and floated over the twins. One of them tossed, mumbling in their sleep and rolled over, hugging the other tighter.

Rosaliese smirked as she released Elsie's hand. With a slight confirmation from her elder, Elsie approached the window. Hanging from it was garlic and crossed, but she brushed them away as she pulled open the shutters. A soft breeze tossed the victims hair, and her scent wafted back towards Elsie. The newborns mouth watered, and with the silence and agility of a cat, she lifted herself through the window, only to land on the floor at the end of the cot with an almost inaudible thud.

Elsie wasted no time, she approached the closest of the twins, relishing the smell of young, supple living flesh. She struggled not to sink her teeth into the youngin's neck immediately, as her instinct began to kick in, telling her to wake the child first.

Rosaliese watched as Elsie did just that. The young Vampire reached out, shaking the closest twin on the shoulder. She woke up with a rough started and muffled cry due to the thumb still in her mouth. Upon seeing Elsie, the twin would have released a blood curdling scream had her gaze not been caught by Elsie's mesmerizing blue one.

The 'younger' of the twins woke just as Elsie's lips brushed across her sisters neck. Alice, the twin who watched on, was too frozen with fear to utter a sound.
Upon finishing with the twin, Elsie turned to Alice, as if to feed from her next, but a hissed order from Rosaliese had to jumping from the bed and out the window quickly, taking Rosaliese's hand.
The elder vampire and the newborn stood at the window, bathed in moonlight, and stared at Alice for a short time before Rosaliese tugged Elsie along, and they fled the village.

Alice's scream finally met the ears of the village as the vampires fled.

Now that they were free of the need to feed, Rosaliese was free to explore the scent. The Vampires' approach to the cemetery was silent.

Iceheart · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Iceheart** on Mon Sep 29, 2008 10:45 am

Hargrove heard his heartbeat in his ears,fast and thunder-loud. He had heard it like this before - when he was with Gustavus Adolphus at the battle of Lutzen and his horse was shot from under him and the big German was coming for him with a long pike and berserker eyes and when he pulled the trigger of his wheellock at the last minute it had spouted smoke and flame and the German fell with a hole in his breastbone and did not get up.

Yet, it was also different. Hargrove felt no great rush of excitement, giving him energy and strength. Rather, he felt as though his bones had been turned to lead, and his muscles wasted away like a bedridden man. There was something about that was uncanny, carrying like a foul scent on the wind, and it unnerved him, despite all he might do to pretend otherwise. He undid the top buttons of his shirt and fumbled for the little gold cross he had taken off the German officer later that day. It had been itching him, lately, but now he was glad of its presence. He said a prayer that the damp might not have got to the powder in his pistol, shifted it to his left hand and then drew his sword.

With a thunderous kick Hargrove threw the door open, and went forward into the darkened cottage. The sparse furnishings - a small wooden bed with a rotten moth-eaten mattress, a nightstand, and a large chest, like a sailor's sea chest - were covered by a thick layer of dust that took more than a few days to develop. Surely they had to have a gravekeeper, he thought, and then regretted the question when a sinister answer popped into his head: maybe they have one, but he's too scared to sleep here. What does that to a man who is around corpses every day?

True_Grave · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **True_Grave** on Wed Oct 01, 2008 4:18 pm

The skies were overcast and rain poured down. This was the regular climate of North Yorkshire, or at least that was what he had been told. Rain a couple days, take a couple days off, then rain again. Eric Campbell sat by himself in a chair in the back section of The Haven, a small tavern he had happened upon when he first came to Berske-by-the Sea not ten minutes ago. However, he wasn't in the mood for drinking, and would have chosen a better place to make temporary rest if the rain hadn't been beating down like iron hammers. He still recalled the letter he had received from the Mayor of this small, sea-side village. It was a letter hiring him to come down from Cumbria and deal with a werewolf problem they were having. Three men had been found mutilated on the side of country roads, and the wounds suggested savagery and wild hunger. Eric had never had to deal with such beasts in his home village and was both chilled and delighted by this assignment. Included in the letter were fifty gold coins, half the payment of the job. The other half of the payment would be given to him upon completion of his assignment. After a few more minutes of staring out the window and watching the rain hit the cobblestones, he got up from his seat, pulled his cloak over him to prevent being drenched, and headed into the stables. His trusty horse, Delilah, whinnied when she saw him. He smiled, rubbed her nose a few times, then untethered her. Eric led Delilah out of the stable, mounted her, then continued on to the main part of the village to alert the Mayor of his arrival.

Those Who Hunt Monsters

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