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Dark of the Night

Dark of the Night

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A story between Amarkov x Nemesis.

813 readers have visited Dark of the Night since -=Nemesis=- created it.

Introduction

Finally, after days of voyaging, Esme crested the hill that lay before her destination: St. Gabriel's Mission. The old church, once a mission that housed and helped the poor and down-trodden, had gone into disrepair for the last century or so. Recently, a coven of vampires had decided that it would make one hell of a nice set-up. Below it lay catacombs, oddly laid out in maze-like patterns, allowing the creatures reprieve from sunlight. During the day, they hid themselves deep within the church's bowels, nearly a handful of hunters had been slain trying to go after them, half-cocked. Esme didn't want to join that club.

Nearby was the town of Brookhollow, a small village like many others, simply trying to live in harmony. Recently, the poor town had been haunted by the creatures, many of its citizens found dead, and a few children missing. A few hunters had come to help, hearing the town's messengers, sent to find help. Unfortunately, thus far the majority of those coming to help were utter twits. Esme had decided to come lend a hand, hoping to do her part to help rid the town of its infestation.

Heading down the hill, she walked passed the crumbling building, towards the town. She would go check out the building after a while, for now, she needed sustenance. For the last few days, she had journeyed mostly by foot, and she was ready for a rest. So, at a nearby inn, she settled down for a bit of ale and some food, as well as a rest in one of the rooms.

As afternoon settled upon the city, a well rested Esme left the inn, strapped to the nines, before heading across the meadow separating the town from the old church. The building itself was practically non-existent. Once a two-story church of maybe 2000 square feet, it was now crumbling stones and wood. The facade had fallen off, leaving the gutted interior completely opened. The second story slumped, the front of it leaning almost to the first floor, yet somehow not breaking off.

After a few hours of scoping out the crumbling dwelling, she found herself a place to lay in wait, hidden fairly well, but with a decent view of the exit to the caverns below ground. Opening her quiver, she loaded the small crossbow that was locked onto her forearm, clicking a silver-tipped arrow into place before wrapping her fingers around the release. In her other hand, she grasped her Cross of Xavier, fingers clenching tightly around it as the sun settled beyond the horizon. And, it seemed the instant the sun was gone, the creatures were unleashed.

Two crawled out of their hole, focused on the nearby town. Pausing, the female of the two sniffed the air, a slight hiss leaving her lips. And, with her existence given away, it was time for action. Esme's fingers pulled the trigger, the bolt flying from her arm, plunging into the creature's stomach. She let out a scream, signaling the others of the attack. Quick as possible, Esme re-loaded the bow for future use, before reaching down to grasp a throwing knife. Three more of the creatures emerged, raising their numbers to five. Somehow, it still didn't cross her mind that she could possibly be outnumbered.

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Character Portrait: Markus Harrington
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#, as written by Amarkov
Two bullets zipped through the air, one slamming into a male vampire's stomach and the other following suit quickly into its head. The creature was thrown back from the impact, its howl cut short, and the vampire closest to the girl whipped its head in the direction of the new figure. Pulling pale, bluish lips back from monstrous fangs, the third vampire shrieked and leapt forward for the second attacker and was met with a shotgun blast through its abdomen.

Chucking aside the sometimes useful but often cumbersome weapon, Mark whipped out the knife at his thigh and, in a moment of bravado, threw it straight at a fourth vampire. He missed by an embarrassing margin and the knife embedded itself in a nearby tree. He was no good with any range weapon besides a gun, and wasn't sure what had possessed him to suddenly play darts with the damned. With the last two bullets from his first pistol laying in the corpse of one vamp and his shotgun too slow to reload, it was time to go for his final pistol.

The fourth creature whipped its head to look over at the knife, then turn back to Mark, cold rage on its face. Mark had only managed to lift his gun when it was suddenly in his face. He put a wooden bullet into its larynx, but the momentum carried the creature ever forward and Mark was soon slammed under a tangle of dead vampire limbs. The two rolled a little ways backwards, Mark grunting and struggling to disengage. He shoved the corpse aside just in time to spot two more creatures emerging from the hole to serve as snarling, nightmarish backup. Mark laughed quietly under his breath and swore. This was going to be an interesting night.

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Character Portrait: Esmeralda "Esme" Lanier
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Before Esme could do anything further, the vampire horse was attached once more from a different angle. A gun blast send one reeling, and moments later a shotgun to the stomach sent another down. This distraction allowed Esme to get herself out of the corner, careful to avoid the new hunter. After all, in this light, it would be hard to see the difference between her and one of the damned. She didn't want to be shot.

She watched as a blade whizzed by on of the beasts. She looked out, seeing as the man was tackled, a pile of vampire limbs landing atop the man. He was able to shove the beast away, as two more emerged from the crypts. Well, they just kept on coming. they would have to hit bottom eventually, right?

Jumping from the foundation to the grass surrounding the old church, she ran towards the tree where the blade was now planted. Ripping it out, she threw it, the blade slicing through the air. Knives being her specialty, the blade hit mark, knocking one of the new beasts back, the demon spawn falling into the crypt. His friend looked down, to where the beast had fallen, before hissing and charging towards the girl. Her throwing knife was produced, the silver blade smacking the target, the beast howling as it pierced the orb. Esme smirked, something about that sort of hit always being satisfying.

She moved towards him with a quick gait, legs dancing across the grass, back up to the foundation of the church. The beast was too distracted by his eye to notice the approaching hunter. One boot moving outwards, she tripped the beast, it handing on his back at her feet. Reaching to her belt, she grasped a stake, and planted it home with a strong smack.

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#, as written by Amarkov
Markus laughed to himself at the display the other hunter put on. As he dispatched one more emerging creature with his pistol he nodded to himself, rather pleased with her skills. He’d been concerned that he’d be coming to the aid of someone who didn’t know what they were doing, perhaps a young hopeful trying to break into the business by diving in headfirst. He’d seen it enough times before to recognize a seasoned killer at once, though, and differentiate her from the stumbling, terrified fools who thought this sort of thing was easy.

Now that he had a clear path to the tree, Markus swooped down to sling his rifle back across his back and darted forward and pried his knife free from where it was wedged in the wood with a grunt. He slid it back in place and cocked his gun, watching for any other signs of the damned oozing forward from their damp, earthy homes. When nothing seemed to be immediately offering itself up, he edged a bit closer to the woman, gun still raised as precaution.

β€œOi there, nice shooting… you taking this place on solo?”

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Esme waited, tense, for more suckers to ascend from the hole. Her stance rigid, she waited, listening intently for any hints of more beasts. Once she was sure nothing more was coming, her body relaxed the slightest hint. Leaning forward, she yanked the stake from the beast's chest. Sneering at the dark blood that coated it, she wasted no time rubbing the wood against the vampire's clothing, cleaning it as best she could. "Waste not, want not." She muttered, before slipping the weapon back into her holster. The throwing knives were soon fetched as well.

She paused as she heard the voice. Turning, her honey eyes fell against the man, sizing him up. In the dark, she couldn't quite make out his face right away. "Who wants to know," She called back, a hand moving to flick her long blond braid back over her shoulder. She frowned as her eyes settled on the gun, pointed at her. A sneer fell over her lips, ready to tell the other hunter to shove it up his arse. She wasn't exactly one to attack another hunter for no reason. Though, she would have the share the reward money the town had put up...

When the man got close enough for her eyes to trace his features, a slight smile fell over her lips. "Well, well." She muttered, moving closer, tall black boots thudding on the wooden floor of the church. "Markus Harrington. It's been a long time." She spoke, eyeing the man. She had known Mark off-and-on through the years, the two crossing paths. Before he could reply, her rather one-track mind got the best of her. "Oh, one moment." She offered, before heading over to a bag she had placed near the church steps. Reaching in, she tugged out a tin of lamp oil, a small bag of gun powder and a match. She slung the bag over her back, then headed to the entrance to the crypts. Well, this would help to ensure there weren't any hiding down below.

She dropped the bag into the hole, holding the attached fuse. Then, she began dumping the oil, down into the hole some, then in a path to the stone steps of the church. "Better watch out," she smiled, looking over at Mark. "There's gonna be a boom..." Excitement danced in her eyes. It was so rare she got to use gunpowder, she simply couldn't pass it up! And so, the match was struck and dropped, flames soon zipping down the oil line and igniting the fuse. Esme rushed back a safe distance, taking cover in some of the nearby trees. Once the fuse was gone, the gunpowder ignited, a loud pop sounding as it went off. The oil went up in flames, and began to consume the skeleton of the once-hollowed building. Fire was no doubt eating into the crypts, taking care of any late-comers.

"How have you been, Mark?" She questioned, though her eyes did not move from the building.

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#, as written by Amarkov
Mark had thought there was something vaguely familiar about the stance and gait of the female hunter, but when she correctly identified him it clicked. A broad, bright smile broke across his face as he lowered his weapon at once. "Well, well!" was all he managed to say before Esme got busy with her final display.

In the burst of flames that followed Mark whooped and clapped, not concerned with being quiet anymore. His noise certainly wasn't going to be the first thing on the minds of the undead who were now roasting to crisps in the arid, apparently very flammable building.

"Been keepin' quite well, better now I've run into you," he said, grinning at the back of Esme's head. He'd always liked the hunter and had wondered just the other day where she'd been and what she'd been up to. Not seeing a fellow hunter for many months always brought forth the question of whether or not they were still alive. Mark had learned that one of the regulars he'd crossed paths with a few times, Randall, had met such a fate just the past week. It brought a spot of warmth to the cool night that Esme was still alive, kickin', and stakin' vamps.

Her roaring fire of roasting vamps did a good job warming up the night, too. Mark told her as much as he sidled up to her and put his hands out as if warming them by the light of the burning structure.

"Quite a cozy end to the evening. You rooming around here?" he asked, casting her a sideways glance and grinning. "Though, I'll cut right to the chase and ask the question I'm really getting at: will you be drinking with me tonight?"

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A smile flickered on Esme's face for the briefest of moments, eyes cutting to the man standing caddy-corner from her, before returning to the burning display before her. "It's always good to see a friendly face," She remarked, though her voice remained fairly monotone. Though the girl didn't display her pleasure at seeing someone she considered a friend, her mind and body still in 'hunt' mode and far from the sometime jovial being she could be, she was glad to see the man. Unfortunately, hunters had a short shelf life. Often, when you did not see a friend for a while, you likely never would. It was one of the tragedies of their way of life.

As the man moved up, remarking that the vampires a-roasting did a good job warming the cool evening, she let out a slight chuckle. "Aye, shame they're inedible. The town could eat for a week." She joked, eyes settling back to the man as he held his palms out, warming them against the flames. She smiled, head shaking a bit, the feral glaze over her eyes dissipating the slightest. The man invited her to drink with him. "If you can keep up," She responded simply, before adjusting the pack on her back. "It really is nice to see you again, Mark." She then offered, voice as tender as the girl's could get - granted, that was not much. A hand patted his arm somewhat roughly before she turned, and began the trek back towards the town, the church still a blazing behind her.

Not much later, the two arrived back at the pub and boarding house she was staying in. After a quick detour to her room, to ditch her hunting toys and offer to store the man's as well, Esme led him back down to the pub. As she seated herself at one of the empty stools, she glanced over at him. "So, any amusing adventures since we last parted?" She questioned, before ordering two mugs of ale for them.

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#, as written by Amarkov
Mark smiled a thanks to Esme for the first round of drinks and stretched his legs out the best he could from his own stool. "The usual... life is always amusing when you're me," he commented in a simultaneously self-depreciating and jokingly egotistical way. "There've been a few false alarms... you wouldn't believe how many people out there are convinced that their neighbors are vampires or the strays around their town are weres. It got so bad I was finding about 8 bogus jobs for every legitimate one." He chuckled to himself as their ales arrived, and lifted his glass to Esme for a toast. "To little old ladies who think one of the hallmarks of vampirism is 'looking at my property too much.'"

((Quick question: I was thinking of introducing a patron of the bar who wants to hire hunters for a bigger job, but doesn't want to send solo hunters anymore as most of them have been killed... he'd overhear the two talking and trading stories and assume they're already a team. Sound like a good way to get them to go on a mission together? Let me know if you had something else in mind :) I'll post much longer replies after this.))

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((That sounds good. Sorry for the delay on response, had a busy weekend! I'll let you control the bar patron. :) So, fairly short post.))

As Mark sat beside her, Esme slouched back. Her feet kicked out, beer in hand, and covered in a tinge of vampire blood... well, it was easy to say Esme was a far cry from a refined and gentile lady. A few wary glances were sent her way. But, she seemed to ignore them, taking a sip from her mug, smirking at Mark's comment. "Well, I do have a tendency to make things... exciting." She bragged. With her "attack first, ask questions later" style of hunting, it was quite surprising the woman wasn't dead yet.

"That's why I don't go do the bidding of crazy old bats," She laughed as the boy complained about wasting time on nothing. She took a swig back off her glass, shaking her head at the boy. "I wait for proof before I attack," She shrugged. The woman did not fancy chasing shadows of nothing.

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#, as written by Amarkov
Mark smiled at that and offered a "here, here" toast to her discretion, then drained half his ale in one go. Before he had much time to enjoy more than a few pints with Esme, a patron sitting beside them at the bar cleared his throat.

Mark glanced over at the man and lifted an eyebrow, his attention caught, and the man, looking shifty and nervous, darted his gaze between the two of them before speaking.

"I couldn't help but overhear you two trading your hunting stories. I take it you consider yourselves rather talented hunters?"

Mark exchanged a look with Esme, then smirked to the jittery man. "I think all hunters consider themselves talented until they get slashed to ribbons." He was tempted to ask the man why he was curious, but decided to wait for Esme's input.

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Character Portrait: Esmeralda "Esme" Lanier
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Character Portrait: Markus Harrington
Markus Harrington

Devil-may-care Vampire/Werewolf hunter

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Esmeralda "Esme" Lanier

Crude Vampire Huntress

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Character Portrait: Esmeralda "Esme" Lanier
Esmeralda "Esme" Lanier

Crude Vampire Huntress

Character Portrait: Markus Harrington
Markus Harrington

Devil-may-care Vampire/Werewolf hunter

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Character Portrait: Esmeralda "Esme" Lanier
Esmeralda "Esme" Lanier

Crude Vampire Huntress

Character Portrait: Markus Harrington
Markus Harrington

Devil-may-care Vampire/Werewolf hunter


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Dark of the Night

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