WG- Another Shadow Over Hackdirt Options

[Elisabeth Hollow]

I apologize for clogging the free-roaming Wobbly Goblet thread with our mission, as neither of us thought about making another thread(Until I did this morning.)

Once we get a hold of an Admin, we'll see abut putting the rest of the mission here. Until then our Hackdirt posts will be kept here.

[Darkness Eternal]

Kayla’s body responded all too well to his vampiric seduction. He could practically see the fresh rush of blood running throughout her veins. With just the correct pierce, he could sink his way into her neck and draw out the red nectar. His thirst would be wet with hunger just as she is with desire.

He didn’t waste anymore time. Draken bent over, his mouth wide, his large fangs exposed. The warmth of her skin felt so tempting that he wondered if he would be able to feed without orgiastic abandon. Right as his fangs touched the tender flesh without cutting into them, he heard something quite disturbing that took his attention away from the prey beneath him and toward the entrance to the room.

Footsteps. Many of them. Coming in all at once.

Draken’s face contorted into a deep, hateful snare. This wasn’t good.

The door creaked and he could hear and see half a dozen heartbeats through the thick wood. He could see the outline of the men standing outside with clubs in their hand!

Before he could even react to that sight the door had burst open and the intruders ran inside, screaming out as they invaded the chamber. Each of them were shirtless and each of them brandished wooden clubs with metals pikes etched on the top. But what was oddly disturbing about these men were the size of their eyes. They were large. Too large. These weren’t normal men at all. They were pale, as if they'd lived their entire lives below ground. But they weren't undead. They were living men.

“Outsider! Kill, kill!” they said in almost unison.

That was enough for Draken to leap off from top of Kayla’s sleeping body onto the side of the bed. His sword was just a few feet away but the men were in large numbers and they came in on all directions at once. There was no room for him to fight them all lest he scorch this entire place to the ground and he wasn’t willing to do that for the sole purpose that he needed to speak to the proprietor and preserve his station. But it was painfully obvious that the old buffoon was involved in this, too.

This moment Draken decided to offer these men a peak of what he was capable of. He hated when things went sour in his negotiations but savored that sweet moment when he would be allowed to properly defend himself. And the best defense is a great offense.

He gathered his arcane abilities of Blood Magic in a single indrawn breath that summoned power given by Molag Bal himself, child’s play compared to the real whirlwind of power that contained his other form; the slightest whip crack of that power, negligent as a flick of his wrist, sent one of the shirtless barbarians who nearly clubbed him in the air. Invisible hands choked at the man’s throat, cutting away all circulation of blood and air and his feet dangled in the air, large eyes appearing as if they would pop out from his skull at any moment.

Sad little creature, thought Draken as he guided the strangled man a few feet above the ground in front of his brethren.

I had enough of this!

Draken flung the man across the small room to where he crashed hard against the wall. But the vampire nobleman didn't have time to enjoy it. Sounded like he'd broken his neck. Wouldn't that be lovely?

There was no sense in taking chances, however. While the man’s bonelessly limp body was still dancing in spasms in the floor, he sent another surge of energy through Blood Magic. The man struck the floor this time at a steep angle, skidded along it, crashed into a handful of his brothers, and then slammed into the wall so hard the heavy furniture buckled and collapsed onto him. This Draken found exceedingly gratifying.

But all humor comes to an end, no? Like right this moment.

More of them spawned from the corridor into the room with clubs and Draken found that there would be too many to fight. Too many for a single man to slice them into shreds with a single blade. Draken wasn’t going to risk it. This was the folly of proud. He'd only recently re-awakened into the world. No sense in ruining his reputation with over-the-top displays of ancient dark power.

He glanced once more at Kayla and knew she was sure to wake up at any moment. If he killed them all he would have to take her life too, and the proprietor as well, and that Imperial woman and all of the townsfolk for that matter. That would be too problematic. How could a man profit if he slaughters all of his cattle before the appointed time?

There was only one way to win this. Draken raised his hand and shouted: "I surrender! I am your prisoner! I surrender!”

He would find the root of this problem, and what enabled these pests to crawl out of their hiding place. There was a bit of hope that they would lead them into wherever they hide themselves . . . where he would kill the pestilance in their cribs.

Kayla would wake up the sound of the crash, but surely she would only be aware of Draken standing there with his hands raised to the ceiling while eight murderous men stood there.

He knew they wouldn’t take them dead. He knew that they would want Kayla alive for whatever bloody desires they had, and if she was to be taken alive, he could too because he was worth something. And he couldn't help but notice that there was another shadow over Hackdirt.

These men never forget, do they?

This post has been edited by Darkness Eternal: Aug 12 2013, 06:57 PM