Cursed Wood

Palms on the ground, crap, where were his glasses? His heart was pounding in his ears when suddenly...

Holy shit! Phil! Kethyr! Holy aaaahhhhhh! Oh my gaaahhhhhhhhhhhh!

Pain seared through his leg. It had him! Shit! He could barely hear Bobby over the sound of his own blood. He clawed at the ground, his glasses were gone forever now, as the beast dragged him into the woods. He tried, with his other leg, to kick for a moment,

Booooobbbbouch!

and then collapsed with fear.

Oh my gaahhh ahhhh holawagahhh its a wolf ohmigahPhiiiiill

Bobby continued to freak out, attempting to drag the corpse of Phil away.

Releasing her hold over Kethyr's leg, the reek of Maria's heated breath washed across his face and thick gobs of bloody saliva dripped from her maw to spatter upon his chest. His death was imminent and for a moment, he would be be caught staring it straight in the eye. That is, before her head snapped around to follow the sounds and movements of Bobby. That look was all it took for the man to abandon his efforts to drag Phil free of the woods. Turning tail, he fled.

The man's shouting and flight triggered an almost primal predatory instinct within the beast and just like that, she was gone. In but a single bound she vanishing into the thick of the woods after Bobby. Only a few moments would pass before the distant sound of blood curdling shrieks filled the night air.

Oh god, oh god, he could vomit, and he did his best to not. He lay there, still, barely breathing, hearing Bobby scream behind him. So this was it, the end?

And it was gone, for a moment he lay crippled. For a moment he accepted his fate. Bobby's screams of death snapped him from that peace of mind, and he erupted to a stand. Falling, shit no! His leg was done, screwed, over with. I must crawl on, determined, he did not want to end up like Bobby. He crawled to a tree, pulling himself to a stand. He could make his way like this, maybe...

With a shudder, he turned his back on the sounds of death, the possible location of the wolf.

Bobby's tortured screams carried on for what seemed like an eternity, pursuing Kethyr in his flight from the woods. It was a sound that seeped deep into the soul to leave its mark. A sound that would forever haunt the nightmares of those to hear it.

And then just like that, the sound was mercifully silenced.

Rising from the motionless form of Bobby, Maria stood tall and threw her bloodied maw high. Belting out a bone chilling howl that rolled through the woods to echo for miles around she proclaimed her dominion over these lands for all to hear.

Yup!

A week has come and passed, and still the presence of the werebeast hangs over the lands of Castle Vankoryth. With the victim count on the rise, has the beast's reckoning come? Or will the Vankoryth Détente succumb to the ferocity of the beast that plagues their lands.

Post Order
Vankoryth Détente: NotAFlyingToy, SkullJester, Nikora, FizzGig, Lostamongtrees
Other: Tiko, Tide

Note: 48 hour time limit on posting.

Catching sight of Gabriella through the trees, Maria froze, her lips curling back into a silent snarl as she watched the human blundering her way through the forest. She would have been upon her then, if not for the guns Gabriella wielded. Guns were something Maria has long experienced, and they demanded caution. However, a moments hesitation was all she afforded the weaponry.

Coiling her muscles, she sprang into action with the loud splintering of wood, clearing the distance between herself and Gabriella in the span of a moment. However, in anticipation of Gabrielle turning to face the imminent danger, upon landing, Maria sprang high clearing the air to land behind Gabriella.

Skidding to a stop in a spray of wood splinters, she spun in place and with a bone rattling roar, swept her left leg across in a backhanded blow to knock the woman sprawling.

Catching sight of Gabriella through the trees, Maria froze, her lips curling back into a silent snarl as she watched the human blundering her way through the forest. She would have been upon her then, if not for the guns Gabriella wielded. Guns were something Maria had long experienced, and they demanded caution. However, a moments hesitation was all she afforded the weaponry.

Coiling her muscles, she sprang into action with the loud splintering of wood, clearing the distance between herself and Gabriella in the span of a moment. However, in anticipation of Gabriella turning to face the imminent danger, upon landing, Maria sprang high clearing the air to land behind Gabriella.

Skidding to a stop in a spray of wood splinters, she spun in place and with a bone rattling roar, swept her left leg across in a backhanded blow to knock the woman sprawling.

Gabriella was rather quick, after all you had to be when dealing with the vampires of Wing City, but she wasn't quite expecting the wolf to leap over her head. Well, rather she was, but she didn't have the speed to react to it in time, arms raising to aim for Maria, then spinning as she cleared Gabriella's head and landed on the other side.

The blow struck Gabriella, sending her tumbling backwards. While Gabriella was fit and even muscular compared to the 'normal' woman, she wasn't a very big person. However, as she fell, she raised her right arm, and with trained practice she fired the first bolt. It was a plain metal bolt, perhaps the size of a finger, and at this range it carried the force of a pistol. However, should she fire wide, she added enough force in the swing that the bayonet on the end of the bolt gun would slash dangerously through the air.

Gabriella's left hand jerked down for the ground, trying to catch herself as to not lose her entire footing.

The bolt snagged Maria's shoulder, jerking her around briefly with a flash of pain. However, at such close range, the bolt simply tore through – a clean exit wound as it embedded into a tree at her back. With a snarl of rage she turned upon Gabriella with a ferocity that burned deep to her core, leaving her blood boiling within her veins.

Lunging at the woman, a second sweeping blow of her claw was aimed to knock Gabrielle's extended arm wide while she barreled into her, jaws snapped closed for any exposed flesh she could get a hold of.

Gabriella moved her other hand away, landing on her back, which was about as bad a position as you could get really. Her right hand was knocked away, barely managing to hold onto the weapon as he hand slapped into the ground, and as she fell she brought her left arm down, so that her elbow was verticle to the side of her body with her boltgun was held above and aiming in the same direction as her head.

Maria's jaws snapped closed around air as Gabriella fell back to the ground, though the close proximity left the womans face blasted with the reak of Maria's heated breath. Stomping her right foreleg down, Maria pinned Gabriella's boltgun to the ground while leaning in close, hot saliva dripping from her maw, to spatter upon Gabriella's face.

Gabriella was quick to jerk her right hand up, aiming the weapon like a club in a haymaker for the side of Maria's snout. It was with the bottom of the weapon as due to the proximity aiming the blade would have Gabby pointing the blade almost inwards, which was entirely impractical. Meanwhile, she bent both knees of her legs so they were upright, planted her feet on the ground and shoved upwards with her hips, trying to through the wolf off of her like a bucking horse.

The blow struck Maria square on the snout and snapped her head to the side with a vicious snarl. However, given the massive size differences, Gabrielle's efforts to throw the werewolf off her, would be ultimately fruitless. And given the nature of Gabrielle's weapons, they were proving rather infective against the beast. Despite the blood stained fur, the open wound through her shoulder had already sealed closed.

Giving her head a shake, she snapped it back around to close her jaws over Gabrielle's right arm in a vice grip.

The bite would most likely easily pierce both the little protection Gabriella's clothing provided as well as her flesh, though she was not going to simply go down just like that. Letting out a pained yell, she turned her own head for the leg that pinned down her left arm and sunk her own damned teeth into it! Just because she wasn't a freak didn't mean she couldn't bite!

With jaws clamped over flesh, the metallic scent of fresh blood filled the air, and in a perhaps not so comical reenactment of a dog with a chew toy, Maria gave Gabriella a vicious shake. If the woman still managed to try and bite Maria amidst the mauling, as with the weaponry, the results would be largely ineffective, given the thick matted fur and leathery hide that covered much of her body.

Between Gabriella's one arm being pinned, and the other being rather brutally savaged, the jerking would cause further ligament damage to the shoulder itself. But after a few good shakes, she simply stepped back and with a whip of her head to the side, set Gabriella airborne to slam into a nearby tree.

The extent of the damage to the arm would likely have the woman facing shock soon, and even if she had managed to hold onto either of her weapons, Maria had already concluded that the items were ultimately, harmless. She didn't close in for the kill though, but instead simply stalked towards her with slow menacing steps.

As Gabriella slammed into the tree and collapsed to the ground in a crumpled heap she let out a pained groan, maybe even a tear or two trickling down her face from the pain. Shock, depite her extensive injuries, was likely not to come. She was sadly too experienced with vicious wounds to succumb to that sort of shock by now. However there was a determination beyond any other, a single mindedness that Gabby drove herself with deeper than anything else. She didn't live because she wanted to be alive. She lived because she wanted to kill every last damn wolf she could.

As such, the gun that now hung in her loose left grip, clicked, and out the bottom of it dropped its clip as she rolled over onto her back. Her right arm was completely useless by this point, fat and muscle openly visible beneath torn apart flesh, covered in soaking blood. The fact she had only dislocated her shoulder was merciful, though the same could not be said about her rib cage, which was suffering from at least one fracture.

Leaning in, Maria's nostrils flared at Gabriella's scent. The stench of human and of fresh blood urged her predatory instincts on, and she all but quivered with the urge to close in and silence the creature before her. But also, the fight in the woman, coupled with Maria's pack mentality urged on far different instincts. Prey was weak, it was afraid and it ran. This woman had all the ferocity of a wolf in her.

Flashes of battles from times long pasts filled her head. Memories of warriors clothed in the skins of wolves, fighting with all the ferocity of the wild animals they sought to embody. It had been long since she felt such compulsion to increase her numbers, but the presence of the Vankoryth Détente created a conflict that served to salvage at least some of what she once was.

Growling lowly, she stood towering over Gabriella, bloody saliva dripping from her maw to spatter at her feet.

Gabby swung her arm, not in an aggressive fashion, but in an effort to get her bolt gun to her belt, wherein she fumbled for several moments, and there was another clicking noise as she started to load the next clip. "Should've started with silver," she mumbled, not caring if the wolf heard her. Not like they'd let her get a shot off at this proximity. "Fuck I'm rusty." She let out a laugh with a few tears. She was going to die. Well, this was it. About time.

Finally the gun clicked once more as the clip finally slipped into the bottom of the weapon.

Dropping back to all fours, Maria simply turned and departed to meld back into the woods as abruptly as she had initiated her assault upon Gabriella. She wasn't hurried in her steps, but given Gabriella's state, the time it would take her to level the gun on her target after loading the clip, she likely wouldn't have a clear shot. Not in the dark of night anyways.

If the brisk wind that flew through the leaves, skittering them on the autumn floor of the forest bothered the figure, he didn't show it. The black cloak billowed and flowed around him as he walked, stepping over stray logs at the edge of the forest, pausing every few steps to listen with ancient ears, head tilted to one side, nothing but a shadow in the dark.

He was a gleaming phantom in the night, the silver of his weapons catching the stray beams of moonlight that managed to penetrate the wild branches that whipped in the wind. His teeth were the only thing visible to the human eye; his mocha skin and black attire making him all but an outline, an image that one quickly overlooked in the dark landscape. His dual pistols weren't hidden - he hadn't bothered. Tonight, he knew, his enemy would know he was coming long before he struck. It would not do to hide an asset.

Torrential's nature for being here was a simple one. He had been instructed by his charge to help his fellow blood find a beast that had been mauling members of their estate and put the beast down. A hunting party, a good old fashioned mob of vampires running after a terrifying enemy. He took a deep breath of the night air, his lips twisting into a malicious grin, eyes shining with a cold passion. The thrill of the hunt was on.

He started sniffing slightly, utilizing only his nose to get his air, looking for a hint of fear, a smell of sweat, anything that could lead off on the trail, the chase, the eventual deliciousness of backing an enemy into a corner and bearing down on it with full force. He had seen many a werewolf fall, but few by his hand. He welcomed the challenge.

Reluctance held him back, this night. He knew of those the beast had slain. Though none were exactly friends, he found a great disturbance in their deaths. He had long since thrown away the famed "vampire pride" that his blood had often boasted about. Living together or dying alone - it made him a little sick. No, he acknowledged that his race was a solitary one, that they would not work together so long as they had individual goals in mind. They were created for isolation, something he had embraced long before his 300th birthday. Still, for tonight, he was glad for the other warriors at his back, his fellow hunters to slay the beast.

He bent on one knee, placing a hand on a tree trunk that appeared to be sliced with claws of some sort. His gloves came away muddy, as if the animal who scratched it had been running through rain at one point. Above the claw marks was a clump of Russet fur, barely noticeable in the dim light.

He smiled. The hunt was on.

Kaiser had started his own hunt on the opposite side of the wood, coming from Wing City itself. The young man, abandoning his normal, formal attire had opted for a new 'toy' his money and connects had helped him acquire. A full body suit of light weight shark mesh, interwoven with hardened leather. Even if it did little to stop any attacks he might suffer, he at least knew it would reduce the damage. Or else he was going to have to get him money back. The young vampire, prideful as he was, did not like to be disappointed.

Of course, everyone knew his disagreement with the group on how to handle this beast. If he got the chance, he was going to kill it. Once and for all. For good. It didn't deserve to live after hurting his Blood and invading their territory. Who cared about the feelings of its master? It would teach them to actually keep a leash on their dumb, brute of any animal. The thought of leashes made him smile. Maybe he should put his own 'pet' on one, but that probably wouldn't go over well with the others. Damn them. They were soft, weak, they had lost their way. They angered Kaiser to an extent he never thought possible, from his own kind.

In truth, he did not take this night very seriously. It was one beast. They were a flock, a hunt, a murder of blood consuming crows and ravens; wise, deadly, and precise. He clenched his gloved hands and licked the caked blood from his lips and fangs. A feast before a fray. Such a wonderful night this would be. He would show all of them, especially Casren, what it meant to be a walker of the night. He would show them they still reigned supreme. That they could rule with the power of the vampire lords of old, if only they tried and put aside the notions of the common day.

The moon was high. The night was young yet deep. The stars were bright and shining softly. The birds were sleeping, except for the owls, and the animals were alive and active. Such a perfect night. The only thing it needed was a little sanguine pool and Kaiser's reflection there in. Almost singing, he strolled through the woods, alert, focused, and starving.

Within the darkness of the night, even the large undead dragon, Mortuus, was cloaked by shadow. Dark scaled and rotting, sinewy muscle covered her body, all but covering the bone beneath. The horns atop her head curved outwards, points extending past her snout. Since bloating herself upon the corpses of the Vankyroth’s massacre not weeks before, the flesh upon her body had begun to regenerate. As she spread her wings, the tender flesh that was stretched between each bone were not nearly as torn or filled with holes as when she had first met the vampires. A long flight would be impossible, but a long jump aided by a few wingbeats would not be a difficult feat.

Slowly, she crawled up next to Torriential, bony claws sinking into the soft earth below them. She looked upon the same tree, and did not take up sight, but smell. Even so long dead, the dragon was sensitive to smell. She rose her head up, trying to pinpoint where the scent might be at its freshest.

“I believe we should stay together. Strength in numbers. Might you agree?” she asked Torriential. She directed the tip of her snout toward him, dark wells for eyes staring at him. “I do not think this animal is a stupid beast. There is a mind somewhere within it. It must have intelligence for being alive this long.”

“I knew a man who lived in fear, it was huge it was angry it was drawing near…”

Dayo sat perched in the lowest limb of one of the sprawling oak trees, positioned just above Torrential and Mortuus. Remaining perfectly still, the female tilted her chin, her strange green-blue eyes shining like cat’s eyes as she drew a deep, slow breath through her nose. Her lids slipped closed, a small smile beginning to form at the corners of her mouth as her grip tightened on the tree branch. Her sharpened nails dug grooves in the wood, cutting through to the soft, green wood beneath, and releasing an earthy scent that helped to clear her head, to get her into the mentality of the predator she was created to be.

Her soft breathing was covered up by the sound of the leaves rustling in the wind, but her presence was not unknown to Mortuus and Torrential. They would be quite aware of her, in fact. She was one of their party.

Delicately, like the feline creature she was, the girl descended the oak, landing on the balls of her feet almost silently as she gazed into the darkness. The smell of animal, of mbwa, was carried toward her on the wind, the promise of blood causing her to salivate.

“It has already been proven that going alone would be disastrous,” she said quietly, glancing up to the undead dragon, and past her to Torrential. She licked her lips, pink tongue flecking out and in. Her pupils were wide, large to accommodate for the darkness, and when she moved forward, it was in a careful crouch. She almost walked on all fours.

Where she was from, there was no dignity in hunting. Only the task, and if the task wasn’t completed efficiently then it meant death. In this case that would also be true. If she didn’t help catch and kill this creature…then it would mean death for all of them too.

In the natural way of things, it wasn’t uncommon for the hunter to become the hunted.

"Behind his house, a secret place was a shadow of a demon he could never face..."