Setting
INK
Lines formed along the outskirts of the large building, the only building in sight for miles. It rose for a mile into a darkened sky, without window or door other than the ones located on the bottom floor. Some called it the ‘Dagger’, as its symbol implied, while others called it home. From its upper levels craft could be seen coming and going, though the hows and whys of their entrance or departure was unknown to all but the pilots and ones lucky enough to be on the upper floors.
The lines though, and the people within them, had all come on large cargo ships. Each one nervously looked up toward the clouds that towered above, always swirling, always hiding the sun that shown just beyond its reach. To many, that sun would mean death, for every man, woman, and child below the eternal clouds, were vampires.
The building they crowded around was known as the Vampire Registry Sanctum, or simply, the VRS. As a leading corporation in the Multiverse, catering mainly to the undead, or their victims, the company had grown to weild within its grasp a might power over those which sought to feed on blood. For years they simply guided the soulless, but as of late, more and more light had began to shine on their exploits, until the VRS had to as well come from the shadows.
In so doing, they have begun requiring every known vampire, turned and born, to register and become known to the Company. Any that did not after the allotted time, were to be hunted down and destroyed as unlawful practitioners of ancient crimes.
The next couple in line made their way into the building, tugging a small, pale boy in their wake. They made their way to the only object within the first floor of the Sanctuary, and smiled at the old woman sitting behind the large obsidian desk.
“Name?” The elder woman asked politely.
“Jenson Junas, wife Sarah Junas, and son Artaris Junas,” the man said, his accent thick and almost un-discernable. Still, the elderly lady smiled and wrote down the names into a large book. At once each of the vampires felt a burning sensation within their heads, a sensation that lasted until the ink began to dry on their names.
“Now then,” the lady said. “You may return home, or you may take resedince in the caves below, which are quite nice I must say. If you return home, you will find tickets waiting. The tickets shall be your limit of humans upon which you may hunt. Exceed those numbers, and you will be labeled hostile, and your entire family or coven destroyed. Remain here, and you will be furnished with synthetic blood, which holds all the nutrients and taste of human.” The woman smiled, her ruby-red lipstick showing bright against stark white teeth.
“We will return home, thank you,” the father replied.
“Very well, enjoy your trip! NEXT!”
As the couple made their way from the room, they couldn’t help but notice the only other person in the room; a man standing in a corner, almost drenched in shadows, wearing the suit that caused many of their kind to shiver and seek shelter. A Hunter, a Slayer.
The lines though, and the people within them, had all come on large cargo ships. Each one nervously looked up toward the clouds that towered above, always swirling, always hiding the sun that shown just beyond its reach. To many, that sun would mean death, for every man, woman, and child below the eternal clouds, were vampires.
The building they crowded around was known as the Vampire Registry Sanctum, or simply, the VRS. As a leading corporation in the Multiverse, catering mainly to the undead, or their victims, the company had grown to weild within its grasp a might power over those which sought to feed on blood. For years they simply guided the soulless, but as of late, more and more light had began to shine on their exploits, until the VRS had to as well come from the shadows.
In so doing, they have begun requiring every known vampire, turned and born, to register and become known to the Company. Any that did not after the allotted time, were to be hunted down and destroyed as unlawful practitioners of ancient crimes.
The next couple in line made their way into the building, tugging a small, pale boy in their wake. They made their way to the only object within the first floor of the Sanctuary, and smiled at the old woman sitting behind the large obsidian desk.
“Name?” The elder woman asked politely.
“Jenson Junas, wife Sarah Junas, and son Artaris Junas,” the man said, his accent thick and almost un-discernable. Still, the elderly lady smiled and wrote down the names into a large book. At once each of the vampires felt a burning sensation within their heads, a sensation that lasted until the ink began to dry on their names.
“Now then,” the lady said. “You may return home, or you may take resedince in the caves below, which are quite nice I must say. If you return home, you will find tickets waiting. The tickets shall be your limit of humans upon which you may hunt. Exceed those numbers, and you will be labeled hostile, and your entire family or coven destroyed. Remain here, and you will be furnished with synthetic blood, which holds all the nutrients and taste of human.” The woman smiled, her ruby-red lipstick showing bright against stark white teeth.
“We will return home, thank you,” the father replied.
“Very well, enjoy your trip! NEXT!”
As the couple made their way from the room, they couldn’t help but notice the only other person in the room; a man standing in a corner, almost drenched in shadows, wearing the suit that caused many of their kind to shiver and seek shelter. A Hunter, a Slayer.