Post by Kay~ on Aug 7, 2011 13:27:23 GMT -5
(( I MAY HAVE MISSED A FEW SWEARS!!!! PLEASE TELL ME IF I DID!!!! ))
Reginald Walters (known as Reggie to most people) had just decided that he hated his job so much that he’d kill himself when he got home, when a man fell through the ceiling and quite ruined his desk. It was flattened and once he managed to stop screaming like a hysterical little girl rather than the rotund thirty year old that he actually was, he became quite indignant about that… though the emotion faded into shock, realising that the man laying groaning on the floor was not only unharmed but also sporting a pair of folded white wings. Had God finally answered Reggie’s pleas and sent him a guardian angel?
“Hello? Sir? Are you alright down there? Nothing broken?”
The man – or creature, whichever – swore quite fluently at him in about seven different languages, before settling for a British accent and calling him an ---. Well, thought Reggie, that certainly didn’t sound like an angel, unless they were rather less peaceful than he was lead to believe.
“I’m not a --- angel, smartass. Not any more, anyway. ---, that’s one fine strong roof you’ve got there… I’d say that I’m regretful for breaking it, but I ain’t.”
Reggie backed away as he dragged himself to his feet, flexing those questionable wings (which the man could now see were not pure white, having black flight feathers) and checking himself over. Save for being covered head to toe in plaster dust, the stranger was completely unharmed; in fact he had no scars at all, no cuts, bruises… not even a navel, indicating that he’d been created, rather than born. Even more strangely, the man refused to open his eyes, even as he wobbled on his feet.
“So what are you… a demon? Are you a demon?!” Reginald’s voice rose by a few octaves in fear, only to be soothed by the half-hearted snort from the direction of the stranger. It was an oddly human noise coming from something so alien.
“I’m not a demon, I’m… I’m not really very sure. I was an angel and I was kicked out. Apparently that hasn’t made me human, so I suppose I’m a Fallen.”
This did not sound very reassuring to Reggie, who started to back away towards the door of his office. It showed how much the people of this d**n building cared about him; they shoved him on the top floor in a tiny office and didn’t even come to find out what was happening when someone fell through his ceiling to flatten his desk. Surely someone must have heard the crash?
“Nobody heard anything, save for Sally the receptionist, who is currently thinking very hard about shoes. She thinks you just slammed your window; but mostly she’s just concentrating on the shoes. Pink ones with little white diamante sparkles on the strappy bit.” The fallen angel held his head in his wide hands tiredly, screwing up his already closed eyes and sighing. “Humans think far too loudly.”
Reggie felt the strange urge to apologise for his species, but he didn’t think it would do much good in the long term, since it probably wouldn’t be appreciated. He also inexplicably rummaged through the drawers of his desk, producing a spindle of black thread and a needle that he was definitely sure weren’t there before. The stranger took them from his hand without thanking him, sat down amongst the wreckage of the expensive desk without a care for the splinters on his naked body and started to sew his eyes closed.
“W-w-what are y-you doing?!” Reginald squeaked, careful not to raise his voice too much, in case Sally decided to come and investigate after all.
“You don’t have to speak at all, you know. I can hear your surface thoughts… they’re not very interesting, are they? You’re a boring person, Reggie,” He crossed his legs Indian fashion and brushed his lengthy brown hair out of his regal face, “I’m sewing my eyes closed so that I don’t burn your eyeballs from their sockets by accidentally opening them, since I still have my angelic powers. And yes, Reginald, it does hurt.”
This was the point where Reggie’s mind seemed to come back to him and he decided that running screaming from the office was the best course of action. He proceeded to do so, the shrillness of his voice equalling not just that of a little girl, but possibly a note only audible by bats, dogs and angels.
The angel very slowly finished sewing his eyelids shut, stood up, wandered over to the window while relying on his other senses and climbed out. His wings unfolded carefully as he clambered up the wall to the roof, where he sat to await darkness, when he could fly without being seen.
Scanning the surface thoughts of the humans in the building below, he found a name that he liked. He could no longer be known by his angelic name, assuming that would be offensive to the Lord that cast him down. He’d always thought Nero was an interesting one character and with the addition of an ironic clue, Nero Angelus would suit him perfectly. Satisfied with this decision, the fallen angel closed his wings around himself (for the first time, he could feel the cold!) and waited for the sun to set.
-------
Nero woke with a start as sirens wailed in the street below, the sun having just sunk below the horizon; it was the first time he’d ever slept and he did not have time to savour the strangeness of it. There was an unusual pain in his belly – his ancient brain informed him that this would be hunger – and someone was bound to come climbing onto the roof, now that they’d undoubtedly discovered the giant hole.
Firstly he needed clothes, because it was cold and his hairless body had started to shiver in response to it. He marvelled at the simple brilliance of the human form and drew himself a black woollen robe from the air itself, using magic from times long gone; pulling it over his head, he ripped two holes in the back for his wings. It was warm and he wrapped his arms around his chest instinctively, keeping the heat of the air inside; though he wasn’t sure where the instinct itself came from, Nero was grateful for it.
There were movements in the building below… he spread his wings to the evening sky and leapt from the rooftop just in time, since his delicate senses informed him of someone climbing out of the giant hole just a moment later. By then he was already cloaked in the low hanging mist of the strange city, not entirely sure where he was; Reggie had sounded like he was from nowhere the angel had visited. The poor man, Nero mused, he must think he was insane for seeing angels that fell through his roof and then disappeared. Though his wings were quite short, a breeze sprang up at his command and followed him, buoying him up through the air. Where should he go? The world was his to explore now that he had no job, no commands to follow.
It was not the correct world, he realised with a jolt. The continents were all wrong (though his eyes were sewn shut, an angel did not need them to see) and as he swooped lower in the sky, a two legged dog with wings and a t-shirt that proclaimed ‘woof you!’ flew past him, narrowly missing his right wing-tip. That was not on par for Earth at all, a planet inhabited by the most boring humans in the universe. So where on Earth – or rather, not on Earth at all – had the Lord dropped him in punishment for his crimes?
Flaring his weeks to pull himself to a halt, he dropped like a stone from the sky and landed down amongst the creatures there; he spotted humans, walking dogs, cats, horses and many other things he’d never have believed back on Earth. He’d only ever been in Heaven and on that singularly boring planet… this one looked so much more interesting. So what was he doing here? Wasn’t he meant to be being punished for his questioning nature, so unlike a normal angel? Perhaps he was being sent here for a reason and was supposed to save someone in return for redemption… however; first, he was going to have some fun.
He liked the fact that nobody gave him a second look, even when he pulled his hood over his head to hide the sewn eyes; there were many other cloaked figures sticking to the sides of the road and speaking to nobody. Someone stroked one of his wings as he passed, but he saw the dreamy looking anthro wolf do the same to three other creatures with wings as they passed. Perhaps on this world, angels were more common? Or they’d simply evolved wings for whatever reason – this seemed more likely, as he saw a dog wearing a magician’s hat throw a fireball up into the air and then catch it in his mouth, swallowing it.
Obviously the magic of this world wasn’t suppressed, as Earth’s was… it was very rare to find a human with the talent there and here, it seemed to be bubbling over into overuse! He waved away a street vendor with a smile and then wandered off down a back alley, to find the nearest bar and get absolutely wankered. He wasn’t an angel anymore, so for the first time, he could imbibe alcohol without automatically throwing it back up afterwards – those this could still apparently be an effect if too much was consumed. Regardless, he was going to drink himself silly, punch someone and see what sex felt like.
Punishment? This was going to be Heaven on whatever this planet was.
-- Fin --
A black hood drawn over milky skin hides the disfigured face of the silhouette sat at the bar, hunched over aggressively. There are two gashes cut into the back of the robe to let out a pair of sleek dove-like wings, the fledge feathers of which are pure black in contrast to the ivory above. When the garment’s removed, the creature is naked beneath and the body can cause people to gasp – every angle is sculpted to perfection down to the last muscle, as if not born, but cast from a mould. Dark brown hair falls over the man’s eyes and hide them completely from sight, though the rest of his face is handsome, pale and above all, dour. It seems a smile rarely passes those pink lips. Eventually the reason for this might become clear; his eyes are sown shut from corner to corner, preventing even a tiny movement of the lids. Surely there must be a reason for this?
Name: Nero Angelus
Sex: Male
Sexuality:
Species: Fallen Angel
- Cast from the Lord’s presence when he started to question his Father’s plan for the world, he was placed in the mortal body of a grown man. Unlike angels who chose to fall and take their Grace, he retains it.
Abilities: A powerful and vengeful creature, he contains all the unfulfilled love of creation that an angel does but has no need to use it. The scent of his pinions can cause water to become wine or even blood, depending on his mood. His senses are so strong that he can tell colours or movements without his eyes – useful, since if he opened his eyes, his Grace would burn out the eyes of the ‘mortals’ surrounding him. He has a mild control over the weather, able to produce gentle winds, small amounts of water from the air (which he can also purify of poisons; he has a tendency to do this to all his drinks due to paranoia) and grow flowers or thorns from the ground. He can instinctively speak all languages but may have a strange pronunciation of certain words. While he usually keeps his mind heavily shielded behind layers of magical protection, if caught off guard, he may accidentally ‘hear’ the surface thoughts of mortals with no magical blood.
Description: 6’4 tall with a strong build, muscular arms and a tapering slim waist. He apparently has no body hair save for the thick brown atop his head, even down his legs. Both eyes are sewn shut with black thread. If they ever opened, they would be pure white and glow with a burning light, so strong that it would burn the eyes of mortals from their skulls. He generally wears a thick woollen black robe with an overly large hood to shadow his face; it contains two rips in the back to allow space for his wings. His wings reach a full twenty feet of wingspan (he can fly due to his abilities with weather/air) and are pure white above the flight feathers. The flight feathers themselves are black and dove-like. There’s an anti-detection ward in an ancient language tattooed across the back of his right shoulder blade; it keeps him hidden from all that wish him ill, including demons and other angels. He also wears an anti-possession ward on a silver necklace to repel demons from trying to take him over and learn the secrets of angels.
Personality: Mostly sour towards those who are faithful to the Lord. He enjoys the company of furres or humans, but seems to be a little adverse to elves for some reason. While he understands jokes and can laugh, it is rare that this happens. He prefers to keep to himself, but can be brought out of his shell by the temptation of sin. Realistically a Fallen Angel is the ancestor of the demon race and this is believable, considering the way he acts. Every chance he gets, he loves to experiment with new experiences – usually a new flavour of alcohol to help him forget his woes and doubts. Despite his ‘sinful’ attitude, he will instantly come to the defence of an innocent who is threatened, revealing that the angel within him still lives.
----
The beast threw itself at the bars, shaking them and roaring in Sylver’s face, though he unflinchingly stared back at it. Eventually the werewolf seemed to realise that it could not intimidate him, retreating to the back of the cage with a clinking of heavy metal chains and a grumbling growl. The blond boy leant forward and risked placing a hand on the bars, pitying the feral creature inside them, though he would never admit this out loud. It was creatures like this that had cost him his brother, driven him to this all time low and taken his eye, after all.
He looked to be about seventeen, under the savaged skin of his face; his left eye was missing, leaving a hole covered by a red eye patch. On the same side, he lacked an ear and his cheek was pitted with numerous scars as if something had tried to part his skin from the skull beneath. The eye that remained was aged beyond his years, emerald green and clouded by anger and grief.
“Shoot it with the booster.” Sylver gave the order, stepping back as one of the many servants moved forward with a dart gun. The serum inside would return the creature’s mind to it, effectively taming it during the full moon; the werewolf would then be given a choice to join their army of tamed wolves, take the cure or be killed. Usually tamed wolves joined them and fought for the cause, taming or curing all the werewolves in the world.
“It’s ready, sir, we collected the venom you required.” One of the servants approached, the three small scars across his cheek and red eyes marking him as one of the slave-vampires that Cloud had sent to help with the movement.
Sylver’s plan would be dangerous… Scythe, his deceased brother, had been a werewolf and it required one such as this to lead an army of wolves. They wouldn’t listen to a human’s orders, considering themselves too strong to hear the voices of the weak. So he’d decided to harvest the venom from a werewolf and change himself in a secure environment, before being shot with the booster, having his mind returned to him. Despite his regular fights against fully grown supernatural beasts, this was the most terrifying plan by far – because sometimes, for unknown reasons, there were werewolves that would not respond to the taming liquid or even the cure. They had to be put down immediately for their own good; otherwise the disease took them over, twisting them beyond even the usual heights of their kind.
Regardless of the risks, Sylver rolled up his sleeve and looked away, allowing the needle to slip under his skin.
“Make sure the chains are tight and administer the chemicals as soon as the change is complete.” He could already feel an itching beginning, pain gathering behind his eyes. Heavy silver chains were dragged across the floor by four human slaves and lifted easily by the vampire, who affixed them in place; he felt the urge to shy away from them. The door clanged shut as the slaves left him alone to transform, knowing it would be hours before he was ready for them to return… leaving him alone with only the whimpering creature, who was clutching the arm that it was shot in and realising exactly what it had become.
It was a female. His sense of smell seemed to be the first thing that was changing, because he could tell that she was around the same age as him and scared. She began crying out as the pain ripped through his body, placing herself against the bars of the cage and reaching out to him, understanding the hurt that he was feeling. Now that her mind had been returned to her, her yellow eyes had softened and her furred fingers were clumsy but gentle as they closed around his arm, drawing him closer to her cage.
Though the chains clinking around his ankles and wrists were too heavy for him to move freely, she was strong enough to assist him and he trustingly leant against her. A few minutes previously he wouldn’t have even dreamed of coming too close to her for fear of being disemboweled. Now as spasms gripped his body, lengthening his legs and stretching his teeth, the smooth rub of fur against his skin was soothing to the growing infection inside of him.
-----
It was impossible to think. His mind had always been the strongest part of him and now it was fragmented, making it difficult to fully form any thoughts. The pain had subsided over the past hour and now he whimpered, chains jingling as his body adjusted into a new position and the female werewolf nuzzling her muzzle underneath his chin. At first he had turned on her in his rage and she had flinched away but as the change completed, he found that there was nothing about her that angered him. She was of his kind and female, so there was a rather strong instinct to clump together with her and try to form a pack, even if she had her human mind once more.
One sharp green eye slowly looked down at his new shape; muscles rippled under ash blond fur and each finger ended in a wicked black claw. Though he was in no fit state to currently consider it, he was the only blond werewolf that he’d seen, as other blond people seemed to become a mangy yellow-grey when transformed. His fur was pure ash blond, except in the places where scars marred the skin into patches of silvery, tightly knotted skin. The female werewolf seemed interested in these and pushed her wet nose against one of the said patches with a soft whine – though he didn’t know how to respond to her.
He wanted more than anything to test his body, run freely and hunt something. The chains prevented him from approaching the sides of the cage that the slaves would walk past and their itching, weakening power made it difficult to move a great deal. The female’s wrists had red burns around them where the fur had been rubbed away by her movements and the silver had touched skin. Pushing his maw through the bars, he licked at the skin to soothe it, though she winced away when his tongue first touched the rawness.
Suddenly the door to the chamber was pushed open and the scent of humans – and vampires! – hit his nose so strongly that the haze around his mind, having diminished in the female’s calming presence, returned full force. He could not think of anything more pleasurable than ripping, tearing and biting the humans until their blood sated his grumbling hunger pains. Throwing himself at the door, he howled as the silver dug bloody furrows into his limbs but found he could not care for more than a split second, more interested in shoving his head through the bars and roaring.
They shot him immediately, the dart going deep into his chest and another wave of pain spreading throughout his body – as he shrunk away, the female werewolf reached out to him and stroked his arm, crooning. Since she was now ‘tamed’, the slave-vampire slipped between the wide set bars to gently unlock her chains, avoiding the casual swing that she aimed at him when he first approached. He had been the one to draw the venom from her fangs, having to hold her head down against a vial; it seemed she had not forgiven him yet.
His mind was clearing and he realised that the change had been successful, blinking that one sharp green eye at the cowering human slaves. The vampire stared boldly back at him, until he growled softly; he bowed his head then, respectfully.
“What are your orders, sir?”
He didn’t know how to respond; his vocal chords were all wrong. Instead of trying to verbally communicate, he rattled the chains around his wrists and snarled at them, then dragged himself over to the side of the female’s cage, pointing into it. Apparently he made himself clear enough, as the slave raised the gate between their two cages and then slipped in to unlock his chains.
“There are fifteen hours of the full moon remaining sir. Will sir be staying here for the remainder and would sir like some food?”
At least Sylver could nod in answer to both of those questions, leaning exhaustedly against the poor female’s side as they were brought great platters of steaming raw meat. Usually he would have been disgusted by the bloody offering; right now he was too hungry to care and the steak barely even touched the sides of his throat. It seemed the female felt the same way, devouring her meat with a feral hunger and warily watching him, as if afraid that he might steal it. He licked at her shoulder, reassuring her that he wouldn’t take her food and she nestled close to him again; he knew that all over the base, the tamed werewolves and the captured ferals would be spending the night in their rooms or in cages, huddling close to feel their escaped humanity.
The morning would bring his human body back, but nothing would change the sacrifice he’d made… if only his brother were still alive. He settled against the female and sighed deeply. Morning would come and everything would look better in the light.
---
Name: Toby Noir (though his show name is Amor L’Noir)
Sex: Male
Sexuality: Bi with male preference
Species: Trickster or ‘kitsune’.
Abilities: Able to create complex illusions surrounding him, he can usually fool even the most experienced of magicians, though he rarely uses the ability for more than making himself look more attractive. He is impossible to trick with illusions himself, seeing through even the deepest and well thought out spells to confuse others. He can perform basic spells also, such as changing his clothes or hair with magic. While a trickster technically takes the form of a fox, he does not like to do so, claiming that “eet is eentirely too much furr!”
Description: 5’6 tall with a very slim, feminine build. His hair is cropped reasonably short and dyed bubblegum pink in a messy style; he pays little attention to it, other than making sure that it is regularly washed. His eyes are a bright, curious orange and blink frequently, almost as if he is nervous about something, despite his laid back attitude and spunky persona. There are small scars on his lower lip, ears and eyebrows where he used to have piercings and removed them, though he usually hides these with illusions. On his left inner thigh there is a circular tattoo of a black fox eating the sun and a red fox eating the moon, similar to ying-yang symbols; the entirety of his right calf is dedicated to a tattoo of swirling evil souls reaching up his leg with twisted hands. Again, he usually hides these with illusions when on the job at the bar, since they are intimidating images to some. He normally dresses in sultry, feminine and pink clothing that reveals a lot of his body, though when he’s off work, he may be found in pink button down shirts, glasses and black slacks, chosen for their comfort. He wears thick-rimmed nerdy glasses when required to read and will yell at anyone who chooses to point this out.
Personality: Very much a sourpuss, though a few lucky souls get to see his caring, careful inner personality once they win him over. He not brilliant at speaking English and generally gets by with broken phrases, strongly accented grumpiness and fluent French swearwords when provoked. He loves to dance more than anything and has been known to drive himself ruthlessly to work for that extra few hours; sometimes not sleeping for days at a time and concealing his tiredness with meticulous illusions. The reason for this flurry of activity is probably that it means he doesn’t have to talk to anyone or become close to them; he pushes people away rather than interact. This is due to his ex-boyfriend’s cheating ways and the fear of having his heart broken again if he lets people into it once more. He doesn’t have the easiest life but he will defend his right to live it to the end; so what if he gets bruises from the clients at the strip club? If he wants to dance there, then he will bloody well dance there, in his opinion. Others would complain about the hard work, the poor pay and his crappy living conditions, but he’s very satisfied with the way he lives, even if his horrible attitude might not show it.
---
(unfinished)
The blood dribbled down the side of his face, unrecogniseable even in the reflection of a murky puddle which gathered towards the back of the cave. It was dark and he couldn’t see very well, china blue eyes opening wide in an attempt to scan his surroundings – he thought he was alone but he knew better than to try to escape. Even the slightest hint of shadow could be an aggressor, just waiting for him to put a toe out of line.
The young wolf sighed and rearranged himself, staunching the flow of blood with one unnaturally coloured paw; he was an elemental crossbreed, taking after his mother in purple and dark green colouring. The blood itself, oozing slowly from his ripped ears, was a blue-black colour and incredibly thick, like a kind of glue… lucky for him, since it wasn’t just his ears that were injured. His stomach was covered in criss-crossing slashes, as if something with wicked claws had tried to disembowel him; close enough to what had actually happened. Both ears had been parted from his head, leaving him with torn stumps compared with his previous rounded ears.
His crime had been trying to leave the cave to find something to eat, a grumbling in his stomach having started over two days before the desperate escape. Thankfully he’d eaten a single rat before being dragged back and beaten… but he’d thrown it up during the punishment, so he didn’t think it’d done much good.
Suddenly he tried to perk his ears up and regretted it, whining as he dragged himself further into the corner – ignoring the freezing dampness of the puddle – recognising the silhouette in the cave’s entrance. It was that of a massive hulking wolf, not a delicate fox-wolf hybrid like the elemental himself; even larger than the average timber wolf, the shape approached with the click-clack of nails on stone. Dekaan was as white as the skin of a corpse but his fur was covered in lengthy, tiger-like red stripes in contrast to his icy, emotionless eyes.
---
Timeline of the three.
- 13 years BCW (before the Cloud War) Halflings Ashanshi Cond**ne and Eleice Cond**ne are born.
- 1BCW Ashanshi Cond**ne receives the prophecy; “the love of your father will bring forth blood from your sister’s heart”.
- 0BCW Ashanshi Cond**ne refuses to join his father’s campaign and is almost murdered. He becomes a vampire under High Lord Alan Bloodsong’s command.
- The Cloud War begins; Dekaan Cond**ne (Cloud’s sire) forms one side, the High Lord’s troops another and finally, the rebelling humans. The war lasts one hundred years, ending with the near extinction of Type B vampires and the complete enslavement of humankind in Ra-Vale. During the war, Ashanshi becomes “Prince Cloud Bloodsong” and commands Alan’s troops to a bloody victory.
- The war costs Alan his wife and leaves him with a single biological son, Lee Bloodsong. He marries one of the rare Type B Vampires left, Reine Cond**ne (Dekaan’s younger sibling), who is searching desperately for power. They produce many children; Xetel, Xanthe, Joyce, Taipa, Evande and Rhaja.
- 379ACW (After the Cloud War) Thomas Moonroe is born in Ra-Divide.
- 383ACW Winter Salutations-Fleetfoot is born in Ra-Reale.
- 384ACW Nicholas Moonroe is born.
- 386ACW Winter Salutations-Fleetfoot accidentally kills his brother, Fragments Fleetfoot. He is disowned by his father (Kukulcan Fleetfoot) and joins the Dragon Mafia, run by his half-brother (Zaphir Salutations-Fleetfoot).
- 389ACW Thomas Moonroe is bitten by a werewolf. He runs away and is assumed dead by his family.
- 394ACW Thomas Moonroe returns to kidnap his brother, now known as “Scythe” and as the commanded of the Werewolf Extermination Movement. The movement consists of “tamed” werewolves and cured werewolves working to either cure or kill others, until the species exists no more. Nicholas Moonroe is trained in the way of the slayer.
- 399ACW Nicholas Moonroe becomes “Sylver” and takes his place within the ranks of the WEM. He refuses to become a full tame werewolf and instead is injected with booster genes.
- 399ACW Winter Salutations-Fleetfoot brutally slaughters his way to the second in command position of the Dragon Mafia.
- 403ACW Reine Cond**ne-Bloodsong and Dekaan Cond**ne are killed in self defence by Kruko and Kukulcan Fleetfoot. As Kukulcan Fleetfoot is Dekaan’s childe, this makes him the heir to Ra-Vale by technicality. Due to his relationship with David Bloodsong, Alan’s adopted son, Alan allows him to become constitutional monarchy with little power.
- 404ACW The three (Cloud, Winter and Sylver) meet for the first time. Cloud is assigned to assist the WEM as Alan backs the movement; the Dragon Mafia find werewolves on their territory and Winter is given as added muscle to the trio.
- 405ACW Cloud marries Valentine (unknown last name) and produces heirs.
- 405ACW Alan Bloodsong re-marries to Lysander Hawkfrost, another Type B vampire but they truly fall in love – foiling a plan to have him assassinated. Lysander abandons his upstanding family name and becomes a Bloodsong.
- 405ACW Scythe dies painfully as the werewolf curse finally overtakes body. His body has been failing due to adverse reaction for over three years and he has hidden the pain.
- 405ACW Sylver becomes a full blooded werewolf to take the place of his brother. His friendships and relationships take the back seat and he loses himself to his work.
- 406ACW Scythe is reincarnated sans some memories and genetically modified thanks to Cloud’s science, becoming Thomas Moonroe once more. His brother refuses to acknowledge his being alive until forced.
Important notes:
Type A Vampires;
Very magically inclined, these vampires see the world mostly in black and white. They see pulse points as red and lay lines of magic as green. They can walk in the sunlight with no adverse consequences. They can typically control one element better than the others, but are adept at most conjurations. Their eyes are usually red. They gain sexual pleasure from feeding from a victim and don’t usually kill their prey.
Type B Vampires;
Unable to use most magic; they instead master completely one element and use this to fight. They’re better at transformation and disguise than their counterparts. Most also have an animal or creature form. They see the world in full colour and cannot walk in the sunlight for more than an hour at the most. Their eyes are usually red, orange or purple. They don’t have sexual relations with their prey and usually drain the victim completely.
Dekaan Cond**ne;
One of two heirs left to the true throne of Ra-Vale. Since the last king’s mysterious disappearance (and indeed, some say, murder) Ra-Vale has been under the command of the High Lord Bloodsong. Dekaan is desperate to return his bloodline to the throne. Since he fathered a son and sired a younger vampire, he has produced two heirs of his own.
Reine Cond**ne-Bloodsong;
The younger sibling of Dekaan Cond**ne with no claim to the throne, since the elder has a son and a childe.
Alan Bloodsong;
The ruthless and yet fatherly old vampire who has ruled Ra-Vale since the King’s disappearance; he keeps the true heirs under a tight control. Of the surviving heirs, one is life-mated to his adopted son and the other is one of his adopted sons.
Childe;
A ‘childe’ is a human turned into a vampire by an elder vampire. Depending on the species, this can produce different relationships. Generally a Type A vampire’s venom causes no pain and they adopt the childe as their son/daughter. Type B vampires endure a painful change and are usually considered servants of the vampire that changed them. E.g. David Bloodsong is the childe and adopted son of Alan Bloodsong. Kukulcan Fleetfoot is the childe of Dekaan Cond**ne and was considered his slave until the death of his sire.
Halfling;
The son or daughter of a human and a vampire; they usually become vampires on their sixteenth birthday and until then, exist as a normal human being. Occasionally a Halfling may not become a vampire at all and live a perfectly ordinary life amongst their human kin. If a Halfling is changed by another vampire – not their parent – before their sixteenth birthday, they may become a ‘mongrel’; neither Type A nor Type B, but a little of the both. Usually they take more strongly after the species of the parent vampire.
Crossbloods;
The product of a Type A and a Type B having a child together; usually they take the species of the father and have few traits of the mother. Very rarely they may take after the mother, but usually still carry traits of the father if this is so.
The Cloud War;
Triggered by the changing of previously thought to be human, Ashanshi Cond**ne, into a vampire; the oppressed (but free) humans rose up against their vampire overlords in rebellion. Dekaan Cond**ne took advantage of their distraction and formed a Type B vampire attack force in the hope of regaining his rightful thrown. The war lasted exactly one hundred years and ended with the near extinction of Type B vampires and the complete enslavement of the human race. During the war, Ashanshi Cond**ne took upon himself the name Cloud Bloodsong, abandoning the remainder of his humanity to lead Alan’s troops. The war created at least three new species (Blood Stags, Nyadd Dogs and Wraithkin); each of which are explained below in detail for those who are interested.
Ra-Reale;
Ruled by dragons and inhabited by feral creatures, it is a mostly mountainous land. Towards the south it mellows out into grassland.
Ra-Divide;
The narrow strip of land connecting Ra-Vale and Ra-Rael. It is completely covered by the Dark Forest and inhabited solely by outlaws; there is literally no law here and the people come in all shapes and sizes.
Ra-Vale;
Ruled by vampires and mostly low-lying hilly grassland; the Dark Forest covers a quarter of the land in the north.
Notes for me:
Nyadd dogs:
Nyadd dogs resemble muscular lurcher dogs, usually either black or dark brown in colouring; depending on the sex, they either have minimal purple or blue markings around the face and sometimes down the back. Their toes are webbed, their fur short and sleekly waterproof; a purebred Nyadd dog can breathe underwater. They also have the uncanny ability to know when a human is within a mile of them; they can’t resist hunting them down, though they rarely kill the quarry. This is due to their being bred by Type B vampires – they’re designed to bring down the prey but keep it alive until the master vampire arrives to feed. They also hate Type A vampires and were used as dogs of war during the Cloud War. Nyadd dogs are rare and usually found in close company of their masters, not surviving well on their own.
Blood Stags:
So-called for their six-foot wide sharpened antlers, these stags are in actual fact, genderless; they reproduce by fighting violently and where two stags’ blood mingles, a fawn is produced. They are omnivorous and eat anything that gets in their path; most creatures avoid them like the plague, especially when they travel in small groups. The Blood Stag’s strangest quality is if they are killed in a way which spills any of their blood, they will reform from the blood unharmed after a varying period of time. Usually the older the stag, the less time it takes for them to ‘reincarnate’; their lifespan is also undetermined, as very few studies of the species have been made without the researcher being eaten. They grow between six to seven feet tall at the shoulder and usually resemble a large red deer stag; though their eyes are red and contain the reflection of hell fire. The only way to control a Blood Stag is to collar it with copper as a young fawn and raise it under strict command; even then, they will usually only listen to Type A Vampires, due to being bred as steeds during the Cloud War. Blood Stags have been driven across Ra-Divide into Ra-Real and are now very common, taking over from native deer owing to their cannibalistic tendencies.
Wraithkin:
There are only three of these creatures known to exist in the whole of the three lands; Paradox, Charoné and Alesis. Two great conjurers of the Type B rebellion journeyed to the corners of their land to consult with three of the most terrifying creatures of all time; the Wraiths of Ice, Fire and Shadow. Usually these creatures inhabit their respective elemental homes and only appear to travellers to bargain for souls; the magicians sold their souls for three presents… children from pairings of the Wraiths. Interested in the future they could dimly sense, the creatures agreed, even allowing the magicians to keep their souls until their death, when they would be collected. The Shadow Wraith only agreed to one child with the Fire Wraith; Paradox, who as per the request of the magicians, took the mortal form of a lioness. Charoné and Alesis were born to the more generous Fire and Ice Wraiths, who were more inclined to play in the lives of mortals and far more meddlesome. Charoné took the shape of another lioness and Alesis, a kitsune. The cubs were each born a year apart and taken immediately to a research centre.
Paradox grew to the size of slim male lion and born red and black markings, mimicking the colours of her powers. Initially she seemed mostly normal; then the horns atop her head sprouted (two black straight horns with a smaller, backwards curved horn between them) and her powers suddenly shone through. She could teleport between shadows, possess shadows to move and set fire to her entire body without coming to harm; this fire clung to living flesh and burnt it beyond repair within seconds. She was fitted with leather thongs wrapped around her forelegs which supported artificial giant steel claws as her war training began.
Charoné also grew to the size of a male lion, but stockier than her sister and with powerful forelegs, able to tip over a jeep without exerting herself. She was mostly red and white coloured, save for light green eyes; eventually she sprouted curled silver ram horns with a ridged surface. If surprised from behind, she would disappear into mist for a fraction of a second and then become insane with rage upon reappearing; like her sister, she possessed the ability to set herself on fire without harm, but also to freeze herself in ice as well. She was fitted with three interlocking leather rings around her tail, each studded with four deadly silver spikes as her war training began.
Little is known about Alesis, other than that he could speak the language of the vampires and possessed a very malicious, manipulative personality which would eventually be their downfall. He twisted his sisters against the magicians and tricked them constantly, leading to the conjurers writing much in their research of their hatred for him. It is known that he would randomly set fire to objects or cause the floor to become slippery with ice as a vampire walked past. He was not fitted with any kind of weapon nor trained in the art of war. His powers manifested long before his horns sprouted; seven twisted spikes down the line of his spine, each with a wicked point and two straight smooth horns with a double pronged tip between his ears. Nothing is mentioned of his size, colouring or shape, other than that he was a kitsune; only the horns are known about in detail, thanks to a scientist speculating on their twisted and double pronged nature, wondering if it was a reflection of his personality.
From this point onwards, the research and history of the three is somewhat clouded and befuddled; after much time spent by later generations, it was pieced together that somehow, Alesis’ powers increased tenfold upon the appearance of his horns. It seemed that he developed some kind of possessive power which could turn vampires against one another. Eventually the entire research facility became insane and the three broke free, murdering the scientists, magicians and the population of three nearby towns. Here they disappear from history, only to appear as vague references or sightings in folklore; none of these sightings can be proved. It is said that the loss of the three Wraithkin cost the Type B revolution the war’s victory, as they had invested so much time and effort into the project.
EXTRA NOTES ON RA-REALE/RA-VALE/RA-DIVIDE AND THEIR VARYING GOVERNANCE, SPECIES AND RELIGIONS.
Mreetha;
A Mreeth (plural Mreetha) is a medium sized member of the felidae family, more commonly known as feline or cats. As a general rule, the females are around the size of a small Labrador dog; males can be up to five inches taller to the shoulder, though are generally of a slimmer, less stocky build. The Mreetha possess perhaps the largest ear to body ratio of any mammal, each ear being up to two feet in length and ridged on the inside; they stay in constant contact with one another due to being able to make and hear sounds which other animals cannot. Their eyes are quite large in comparison to their faces but while they are exceptional at spotting movement, they are not brilliant at recognising detail; in fact they are quite short sighted.
As a general rule the eyes are bi-coloured, the inner iris being a darker shade than the outer sclera; usually brown and green, or yellow and orange. During the summer months they are muted brown, reddish and black colours; mating season falls between autumn and winter depending on the climate of the environ. Mating season sees their pelt spontaneously change colour and markings morph to become brighter colours and more distinctive shapes; yellows, dark greens, brighter reds, oranges and light purples are common at this time.
Each individual Mreeth have a wingspan sufficient to get them off the ground, these wings sprouting as a third pair of limbs behind the shoulders; in males the wings are up to a foot wider and longer, allowing them to sustain easier flight. Females are more likely to stick to gliding between branches rather than actually taking to the air regularly… females are also far less likely to live in co-existing groups. They are more violent, inclined to attack anything that has the misfortune to mildly irritate them; even so, they will work together to bring down large prey… then squabble horribly over the prize. The Mreeth do not cultivate a territory or mark borders. Instead they may settle down in an area populated by many of their kind, or none at all! Females may drive away others if they encounter one another and each Mreetha does compete viciously for prey.
The tail of a Mreetha is designed entirely to aide in climbing – it can support the full weight of the owner for hours, is prehensile and generally acts as another limb. This is not the most remarkable of their features, however – the most shocking is that they can produce a sound which causes unease and nervousness in other animals, even in humans. It produces the strange urge to leave a certain place without exactly knowing why, confusing suspicious or paranoid creatures to the point of them running away scared.
Longsin:
The Longsin are considered the elite of the draconic world and there are no greater species at aerial manoeuvring. While other drakes have evolved to their surroundings, the Longsin are the only race to be artificially created and bred by their peers; there are a limited number allowed to be in existence at one time. Each Longsin must meet a perfection standard – perfect black scales, with bright red, blue and/or white colouring and strong silver horns, metallic eyes, wide wings, a certain size, magical potency and temperament – or by the time that they are sexually mature, they will become sterile naturally. Occasionally an imperfect dragon manages to breed just before sterility kicks in, though the young are born sterile from such a coupling. The Longsin possess a mane that runs from between their two horns, to the tip of their tail and can be bristled up into steel-hard spikes that defend the back. They are also unbeatable at turning quickly in the air, have longer than average legs and can spit ice at an aggressor; despite this, they have a built in urge to obey authority (in this case, the Emperor). They live in a medium sized clan atop a cliff and fish in the ocean, using their wonderful flying ability to fly even in the most changeable ocean gale. Every fifty years, the two strongest Longsin are selected to guard the Emperor. This is a great honour and they are usually promoted to high ranking clan-members when they return.
Emperor:
The Emperor is the ruler of Ra-Reale. He is a dragon over two hundred feet in length, six hundred years of age and pure white in colouring, from his scales to the leathery wing membranes that support him in flight (though he rarely takes to the skies, or indeed, moves from his clearing). His eyes are a pure sky blue and seem to be filled with a kind of wisdom. He lives in a small clearing in one of the only forests in Ra-Reale and rarely leaves it; here a small harem of dragonesses also dwell, and his young amongst them. The Emperor’s true name is unknown, shrouded in mystery, as he insists on only being called ‘your grace’ by his subjects, mates and even his kin. He is protected by two Longsin dragons at all times, though he is more than capable of fighting his own battles. He has over two hundred heirs, though Debiru is the oldest surviving male of the broods he has produced.
Sir Alan Bloodsong, HL, AD:
Advisor and High Lord Alan Bloodsong (age 1002) is a Type A vampire who has ruled Ra-Vale since the true King mysteriously disappeared. The King’s son had been cut out of his will and prevented from taking the throne. There are those that suggest that Alan had something to do with this strange change of rule; indeed, he has gained massively from it. He is well known for taking in lost or abandoned children, either of human or vampiric species and offering them a new life as vampires of his court. As such, he has numerous adopted children in addition to his own plentiful biological heirs. Again, some state that this might be an attempt to keep the true heir off of the throne, though this may only be true in one case (Alan’s adopted son, Cloud, being the actual son of the heir himself). He is six feet four inches in height, with curly short black hair, bright red eyes and a body that appears to be around 30 years of age. He has had numerous failed relationships, but of these, he has been married three times and produced children with two of his spouses. Deanna Spiritmist-Bloodsong gave him his first biological heir, Lee Bloodsong; Reine Cond**ne-Bloodsong gave him Xetel, Xanthe, Joyce, Taipa, Evande and Rhaja Bloodsong; finally, he has adopted Cloud, Eleice (originally Cond**nes), David (prior last name unknown) and Ezra Crow (a distant descendant of Cloud’s youngest sister, apparently). Of these children, Xetel and Xanthe are Type B vampires; Cloud and Eleice are Halflings and Rhaja is a crossblood, taking more after Type A vampires. He has no children with his current spouse, Lysander Bloodsong.
Kahlkest:
Kahlkest is the Goddess of Ra-Reale; she takes the shape of her patron animal, a dragon and is usually depicted as a three headed black dragoness with six wings. Supposedly if you look into the burning golden eyes of Kahlkest, you can see all of creation and how she is the mother of it. She favours feral animals and the typical prayer to her usually involves a blood sacrifice, though normally only a few drops of blood are required.
Talkin:
Talkin is the God of Ra-Vale; he takes the shape of his patron creature, a handsome black haired vampire with magnificent ruby-coloured eyes. Supposedly he can take the form of a hulking black lion and often roams the mortal world in this shape, tricking those who do not worship him correctly, while rewarding those who do. He favours supernatural creatures and a prayer to him requires a sacrifice of human blood; usually enough to fill a small goblet, so normally not fatal to the human involved and preserving the rest of the precious resource.
SO MUCH WRITING.
Anyone who read all of that not only gets a cookie, but a pineapple and a hug. Anyone who understood more than 80% of it gets like, the world and ten thousand internets.
Love,
Ze Kanairu <3
Reginald Walters (known as Reggie to most people) had just decided that he hated his job so much that he’d kill himself when he got home, when a man fell through the ceiling and quite ruined his desk. It was flattened and once he managed to stop screaming like a hysterical little girl rather than the rotund thirty year old that he actually was, he became quite indignant about that… though the emotion faded into shock, realising that the man laying groaning on the floor was not only unharmed but also sporting a pair of folded white wings. Had God finally answered Reggie’s pleas and sent him a guardian angel?
“Hello? Sir? Are you alright down there? Nothing broken?”
The man – or creature, whichever – swore quite fluently at him in about seven different languages, before settling for a British accent and calling him an ---. Well, thought Reggie, that certainly didn’t sound like an angel, unless they were rather less peaceful than he was lead to believe.
“I’m not a --- angel, smartass. Not any more, anyway. ---, that’s one fine strong roof you’ve got there… I’d say that I’m regretful for breaking it, but I ain’t.”
Reggie backed away as he dragged himself to his feet, flexing those questionable wings (which the man could now see were not pure white, having black flight feathers) and checking himself over. Save for being covered head to toe in plaster dust, the stranger was completely unharmed; in fact he had no scars at all, no cuts, bruises… not even a navel, indicating that he’d been created, rather than born. Even more strangely, the man refused to open his eyes, even as he wobbled on his feet.
“So what are you… a demon? Are you a demon?!” Reginald’s voice rose by a few octaves in fear, only to be soothed by the half-hearted snort from the direction of the stranger. It was an oddly human noise coming from something so alien.
“I’m not a demon, I’m… I’m not really very sure. I was an angel and I was kicked out. Apparently that hasn’t made me human, so I suppose I’m a Fallen.”
This did not sound very reassuring to Reggie, who started to back away towards the door of his office. It showed how much the people of this d**n building cared about him; they shoved him on the top floor in a tiny office and didn’t even come to find out what was happening when someone fell through his ceiling to flatten his desk. Surely someone must have heard the crash?
“Nobody heard anything, save for Sally the receptionist, who is currently thinking very hard about shoes. She thinks you just slammed your window; but mostly she’s just concentrating on the shoes. Pink ones with little white diamante sparkles on the strappy bit.” The fallen angel held his head in his wide hands tiredly, screwing up his already closed eyes and sighing. “Humans think far too loudly.”
Reggie felt the strange urge to apologise for his species, but he didn’t think it would do much good in the long term, since it probably wouldn’t be appreciated. He also inexplicably rummaged through the drawers of his desk, producing a spindle of black thread and a needle that he was definitely sure weren’t there before. The stranger took them from his hand without thanking him, sat down amongst the wreckage of the expensive desk without a care for the splinters on his naked body and started to sew his eyes closed.
“W-w-what are y-you doing?!” Reginald squeaked, careful not to raise his voice too much, in case Sally decided to come and investigate after all.
“You don’t have to speak at all, you know. I can hear your surface thoughts… they’re not very interesting, are they? You’re a boring person, Reggie,” He crossed his legs Indian fashion and brushed his lengthy brown hair out of his regal face, “I’m sewing my eyes closed so that I don’t burn your eyeballs from their sockets by accidentally opening them, since I still have my angelic powers. And yes, Reginald, it does hurt.”
This was the point where Reggie’s mind seemed to come back to him and he decided that running screaming from the office was the best course of action. He proceeded to do so, the shrillness of his voice equalling not just that of a little girl, but possibly a note only audible by bats, dogs and angels.
The angel very slowly finished sewing his eyelids shut, stood up, wandered over to the window while relying on his other senses and climbed out. His wings unfolded carefully as he clambered up the wall to the roof, where he sat to await darkness, when he could fly without being seen.
Scanning the surface thoughts of the humans in the building below, he found a name that he liked. He could no longer be known by his angelic name, assuming that would be offensive to the Lord that cast him down. He’d always thought Nero was an interesting one character and with the addition of an ironic clue, Nero Angelus would suit him perfectly. Satisfied with this decision, the fallen angel closed his wings around himself (for the first time, he could feel the cold!) and waited for the sun to set.
-------
Nero woke with a start as sirens wailed in the street below, the sun having just sunk below the horizon; it was the first time he’d ever slept and he did not have time to savour the strangeness of it. There was an unusual pain in his belly – his ancient brain informed him that this would be hunger – and someone was bound to come climbing onto the roof, now that they’d undoubtedly discovered the giant hole.
Firstly he needed clothes, because it was cold and his hairless body had started to shiver in response to it. He marvelled at the simple brilliance of the human form and drew himself a black woollen robe from the air itself, using magic from times long gone; pulling it over his head, he ripped two holes in the back for his wings. It was warm and he wrapped his arms around his chest instinctively, keeping the heat of the air inside; though he wasn’t sure where the instinct itself came from, Nero was grateful for it.
There were movements in the building below… he spread his wings to the evening sky and leapt from the rooftop just in time, since his delicate senses informed him of someone climbing out of the giant hole just a moment later. By then he was already cloaked in the low hanging mist of the strange city, not entirely sure where he was; Reggie had sounded like he was from nowhere the angel had visited. The poor man, Nero mused, he must think he was insane for seeing angels that fell through his roof and then disappeared. Though his wings were quite short, a breeze sprang up at his command and followed him, buoying him up through the air. Where should he go? The world was his to explore now that he had no job, no commands to follow.
It was not the correct world, he realised with a jolt. The continents were all wrong (though his eyes were sewn shut, an angel did not need them to see) and as he swooped lower in the sky, a two legged dog with wings and a t-shirt that proclaimed ‘woof you!’ flew past him, narrowly missing his right wing-tip. That was not on par for Earth at all, a planet inhabited by the most boring humans in the universe. So where on Earth – or rather, not on Earth at all – had the Lord dropped him in punishment for his crimes?
Flaring his weeks to pull himself to a halt, he dropped like a stone from the sky and landed down amongst the creatures there; he spotted humans, walking dogs, cats, horses and many other things he’d never have believed back on Earth. He’d only ever been in Heaven and on that singularly boring planet… this one looked so much more interesting. So what was he doing here? Wasn’t he meant to be being punished for his questioning nature, so unlike a normal angel? Perhaps he was being sent here for a reason and was supposed to save someone in return for redemption… however; first, he was going to have some fun.
He liked the fact that nobody gave him a second look, even when he pulled his hood over his head to hide the sewn eyes; there were many other cloaked figures sticking to the sides of the road and speaking to nobody. Someone stroked one of his wings as he passed, but he saw the dreamy looking anthro wolf do the same to three other creatures with wings as they passed. Perhaps on this world, angels were more common? Or they’d simply evolved wings for whatever reason – this seemed more likely, as he saw a dog wearing a magician’s hat throw a fireball up into the air and then catch it in his mouth, swallowing it.
Obviously the magic of this world wasn’t suppressed, as Earth’s was… it was very rare to find a human with the talent there and here, it seemed to be bubbling over into overuse! He waved away a street vendor with a smile and then wandered off down a back alley, to find the nearest bar and get absolutely wankered. He wasn’t an angel anymore, so for the first time, he could imbibe alcohol without automatically throwing it back up afterwards – those this could still apparently be an effect if too much was consumed. Regardless, he was going to drink himself silly, punch someone and see what sex felt like.
Punishment? This was going to be Heaven on whatever this planet was.
-- Fin --
A black hood drawn over milky skin hides the disfigured face of the silhouette sat at the bar, hunched over aggressively. There are two gashes cut into the back of the robe to let out a pair of sleek dove-like wings, the fledge feathers of which are pure black in contrast to the ivory above. When the garment’s removed, the creature is naked beneath and the body can cause people to gasp – every angle is sculpted to perfection down to the last muscle, as if not born, but cast from a mould. Dark brown hair falls over the man’s eyes and hide them completely from sight, though the rest of his face is handsome, pale and above all, dour. It seems a smile rarely passes those pink lips. Eventually the reason for this might become clear; his eyes are sown shut from corner to corner, preventing even a tiny movement of the lids. Surely there must be a reason for this?
Name: Nero Angelus
Sex: Male
Sexuality:
Species: Fallen Angel
- Cast from the Lord’s presence when he started to question his Father’s plan for the world, he was placed in the mortal body of a grown man. Unlike angels who chose to fall and take their Grace, he retains it.
Abilities: A powerful and vengeful creature, he contains all the unfulfilled love of creation that an angel does but has no need to use it. The scent of his pinions can cause water to become wine or even blood, depending on his mood. His senses are so strong that he can tell colours or movements without his eyes – useful, since if he opened his eyes, his Grace would burn out the eyes of the ‘mortals’ surrounding him. He has a mild control over the weather, able to produce gentle winds, small amounts of water from the air (which he can also purify of poisons; he has a tendency to do this to all his drinks due to paranoia) and grow flowers or thorns from the ground. He can instinctively speak all languages but may have a strange pronunciation of certain words. While he usually keeps his mind heavily shielded behind layers of magical protection, if caught off guard, he may accidentally ‘hear’ the surface thoughts of mortals with no magical blood.
Description: 6’4 tall with a strong build, muscular arms and a tapering slim waist. He apparently has no body hair save for the thick brown atop his head, even down his legs. Both eyes are sewn shut with black thread. If they ever opened, they would be pure white and glow with a burning light, so strong that it would burn the eyes of mortals from their skulls. He generally wears a thick woollen black robe with an overly large hood to shadow his face; it contains two rips in the back to allow space for his wings. His wings reach a full twenty feet of wingspan (he can fly due to his abilities with weather/air) and are pure white above the flight feathers. The flight feathers themselves are black and dove-like. There’s an anti-detection ward in an ancient language tattooed across the back of his right shoulder blade; it keeps him hidden from all that wish him ill, including demons and other angels. He also wears an anti-possession ward on a silver necklace to repel demons from trying to take him over and learn the secrets of angels.
Personality: Mostly sour towards those who are faithful to the Lord. He enjoys the company of furres or humans, but seems to be a little adverse to elves for some reason. While he understands jokes and can laugh, it is rare that this happens. He prefers to keep to himself, but can be brought out of his shell by the temptation of sin. Realistically a Fallen Angel is the ancestor of the demon race and this is believable, considering the way he acts. Every chance he gets, he loves to experiment with new experiences – usually a new flavour of alcohol to help him forget his woes and doubts. Despite his ‘sinful’ attitude, he will instantly come to the defence of an innocent who is threatened, revealing that the angel within him still lives.
----
The beast threw itself at the bars, shaking them and roaring in Sylver’s face, though he unflinchingly stared back at it. Eventually the werewolf seemed to realise that it could not intimidate him, retreating to the back of the cage with a clinking of heavy metal chains and a grumbling growl. The blond boy leant forward and risked placing a hand on the bars, pitying the feral creature inside them, though he would never admit this out loud. It was creatures like this that had cost him his brother, driven him to this all time low and taken his eye, after all.
He looked to be about seventeen, under the savaged skin of his face; his left eye was missing, leaving a hole covered by a red eye patch. On the same side, he lacked an ear and his cheek was pitted with numerous scars as if something had tried to part his skin from the skull beneath. The eye that remained was aged beyond his years, emerald green and clouded by anger and grief.
“Shoot it with the booster.” Sylver gave the order, stepping back as one of the many servants moved forward with a dart gun. The serum inside would return the creature’s mind to it, effectively taming it during the full moon; the werewolf would then be given a choice to join their army of tamed wolves, take the cure or be killed. Usually tamed wolves joined them and fought for the cause, taming or curing all the werewolves in the world.
“It’s ready, sir, we collected the venom you required.” One of the servants approached, the three small scars across his cheek and red eyes marking him as one of the slave-vampires that Cloud had sent to help with the movement.
Sylver’s plan would be dangerous… Scythe, his deceased brother, had been a werewolf and it required one such as this to lead an army of wolves. They wouldn’t listen to a human’s orders, considering themselves too strong to hear the voices of the weak. So he’d decided to harvest the venom from a werewolf and change himself in a secure environment, before being shot with the booster, having his mind returned to him. Despite his regular fights against fully grown supernatural beasts, this was the most terrifying plan by far – because sometimes, for unknown reasons, there were werewolves that would not respond to the taming liquid or even the cure. They had to be put down immediately for their own good; otherwise the disease took them over, twisting them beyond even the usual heights of their kind.
Regardless of the risks, Sylver rolled up his sleeve and looked away, allowing the needle to slip under his skin.
“Make sure the chains are tight and administer the chemicals as soon as the change is complete.” He could already feel an itching beginning, pain gathering behind his eyes. Heavy silver chains were dragged across the floor by four human slaves and lifted easily by the vampire, who affixed them in place; he felt the urge to shy away from them. The door clanged shut as the slaves left him alone to transform, knowing it would be hours before he was ready for them to return… leaving him alone with only the whimpering creature, who was clutching the arm that it was shot in and realising exactly what it had become.
It was a female. His sense of smell seemed to be the first thing that was changing, because he could tell that she was around the same age as him and scared. She began crying out as the pain ripped through his body, placing herself against the bars of the cage and reaching out to him, understanding the hurt that he was feeling. Now that her mind had been returned to her, her yellow eyes had softened and her furred fingers were clumsy but gentle as they closed around his arm, drawing him closer to her cage.
Though the chains clinking around his ankles and wrists were too heavy for him to move freely, she was strong enough to assist him and he trustingly leant against her. A few minutes previously he wouldn’t have even dreamed of coming too close to her for fear of being disemboweled. Now as spasms gripped his body, lengthening his legs and stretching his teeth, the smooth rub of fur against his skin was soothing to the growing infection inside of him.
-----
It was impossible to think. His mind had always been the strongest part of him and now it was fragmented, making it difficult to fully form any thoughts. The pain had subsided over the past hour and now he whimpered, chains jingling as his body adjusted into a new position and the female werewolf nuzzling her muzzle underneath his chin. At first he had turned on her in his rage and she had flinched away but as the change completed, he found that there was nothing about her that angered him. She was of his kind and female, so there was a rather strong instinct to clump together with her and try to form a pack, even if she had her human mind once more.
One sharp green eye slowly looked down at his new shape; muscles rippled under ash blond fur and each finger ended in a wicked black claw. Though he was in no fit state to currently consider it, he was the only blond werewolf that he’d seen, as other blond people seemed to become a mangy yellow-grey when transformed. His fur was pure ash blond, except in the places where scars marred the skin into patches of silvery, tightly knotted skin. The female werewolf seemed interested in these and pushed her wet nose against one of the said patches with a soft whine – though he didn’t know how to respond to her.
He wanted more than anything to test his body, run freely and hunt something. The chains prevented him from approaching the sides of the cage that the slaves would walk past and their itching, weakening power made it difficult to move a great deal. The female’s wrists had red burns around them where the fur had been rubbed away by her movements and the silver had touched skin. Pushing his maw through the bars, he licked at the skin to soothe it, though she winced away when his tongue first touched the rawness.
Suddenly the door to the chamber was pushed open and the scent of humans – and vampires! – hit his nose so strongly that the haze around his mind, having diminished in the female’s calming presence, returned full force. He could not think of anything more pleasurable than ripping, tearing and biting the humans until their blood sated his grumbling hunger pains. Throwing himself at the door, he howled as the silver dug bloody furrows into his limbs but found he could not care for more than a split second, more interested in shoving his head through the bars and roaring.
They shot him immediately, the dart going deep into his chest and another wave of pain spreading throughout his body – as he shrunk away, the female werewolf reached out to him and stroked his arm, crooning. Since she was now ‘tamed’, the slave-vampire slipped between the wide set bars to gently unlock her chains, avoiding the casual swing that she aimed at him when he first approached. He had been the one to draw the venom from her fangs, having to hold her head down against a vial; it seemed she had not forgiven him yet.
His mind was clearing and he realised that the change had been successful, blinking that one sharp green eye at the cowering human slaves. The vampire stared boldly back at him, until he growled softly; he bowed his head then, respectfully.
“What are your orders, sir?”
He didn’t know how to respond; his vocal chords were all wrong. Instead of trying to verbally communicate, he rattled the chains around his wrists and snarled at them, then dragged himself over to the side of the female’s cage, pointing into it. Apparently he made himself clear enough, as the slave raised the gate between their two cages and then slipped in to unlock his chains.
“There are fifteen hours of the full moon remaining sir. Will sir be staying here for the remainder and would sir like some food?”
At least Sylver could nod in answer to both of those questions, leaning exhaustedly against the poor female’s side as they were brought great platters of steaming raw meat. Usually he would have been disgusted by the bloody offering; right now he was too hungry to care and the steak barely even touched the sides of his throat. It seemed the female felt the same way, devouring her meat with a feral hunger and warily watching him, as if afraid that he might steal it. He licked at her shoulder, reassuring her that he wouldn’t take her food and she nestled close to him again; he knew that all over the base, the tamed werewolves and the captured ferals would be spending the night in their rooms or in cages, huddling close to feel their escaped humanity.
The morning would bring his human body back, but nothing would change the sacrifice he’d made… if only his brother were still alive. He settled against the female and sighed deeply. Morning would come and everything would look better in the light.
---
Name: Toby Noir (though his show name is Amor L’Noir)
Sex: Male
Sexuality: Bi with male preference
Species: Trickster or ‘kitsune’.
Abilities: Able to create complex illusions surrounding him, he can usually fool even the most experienced of magicians, though he rarely uses the ability for more than making himself look more attractive. He is impossible to trick with illusions himself, seeing through even the deepest and well thought out spells to confuse others. He can perform basic spells also, such as changing his clothes or hair with magic. While a trickster technically takes the form of a fox, he does not like to do so, claiming that “eet is eentirely too much furr!”
Description: 5’6 tall with a very slim, feminine build. His hair is cropped reasonably short and dyed bubblegum pink in a messy style; he pays little attention to it, other than making sure that it is regularly washed. His eyes are a bright, curious orange and blink frequently, almost as if he is nervous about something, despite his laid back attitude and spunky persona. There are small scars on his lower lip, ears and eyebrows where he used to have piercings and removed them, though he usually hides these with illusions. On his left inner thigh there is a circular tattoo of a black fox eating the sun and a red fox eating the moon, similar to ying-yang symbols; the entirety of his right calf is dedicated to a tattoo of swirling evil souls reaching up his leg with twisted hands. Again, he usually hides these with illusions when on the job at the bar, since they are intimidating images to some. He normally dresses in sultry, feminine and pink clothing that reveals a lot of his body, though when he’s off work, he may be found in pink button down shirts, glasses and black slacks, chosen for their comfort. He wears thick-rimmed nerdy glasses when required to read and will yell at anyone who chooses to point this out.
Personality: Very much a sourpuss, though a few lucky souls get to see his caring, careful inner personality once they win him over. He not brilliant at speaking English and generally gets by with broken phrases, strongly accented grumpiness and fluent French swearwords when provoked. He loves to dance more than anything and has been known to drive himself ruthlessly to work for that extra few hours; sometimes not sleeping for days at a time and concealing his tiredness with meticulous illusions. The reason for this flurry of activity is probably that it means he doesn’t have to talk to anyone or become close to them; he pushes people away rather than interact. This is due to his ex-boyfriend’s cheating ways and the fear of having his heart broken again if he lets people into it once more. He doesn’t have the easiest life but he will defend his right to live it to the end; so what if he gets bruises from the clients at the strip club? If he wants to dance there, then he will bloody well dance there, in his opinion. Others would complain about the hard work, the poor pay and his crappy living conditions, but he’s very satisfied with the way he lives, even if his horrible attitude might not show it.
---
(unfinished)
The blood dribbled down the side of his face, unrecogniseable even in the reflection of a murky puddle which gathered towards the back of the cave. It was dark and he couldn’t see very well, china blue eyes opening wide in an attempt to scan his surroundings – he thought he was alone but he knew better than to try to escape. Even the slightest hint of shadow could be an aggressor, just waiting for him to put a toe out of line.
The young wolf sighed and rearranged himself, staunching the flow of blood with one unnaturally coloured paw; he was an elemental crossbreed, taking after his mother in purple and dark green colouring. The blood itself, oozing slowly from his ripped ears, was a blue-black colour and incredibly thick, like a kind of glue… lucky for him, since it wasn’t just his ears that were injured. His stomach was covered in criss-crossing slashes, as if something with wicked claws had tried to disembowel him; close enough to what had actually happened. Both ears had been parted from his head, leaving him with torn stumps compared with his previous rounded ears.
His crime had been trying to leave the cave to find something to eat, a grumbling in his stomach having started over two days before the desperate escape. Thankfully he’d eaten a single rat before being dragged back and beaten… but he’d thrown it up during the punishment, so he didn’t think it’d done much good.
Suddenly he tried to perk his ears up and regretted it, whining as he dragged himself further into the corner – ignoring the freezing dampness of the puddle – recognising the silhouette in the cave’s entrance. It was that of a massive hulking wolf, not a delicate fox-wolf hybrid like the elemental himself; even larger than the average timber wolf, the shape approached with the click-clack of nails on stone. Dekaan was as white as the skin of a corpse but his fur was covered in lengthy, tiger-like red stripes in contrast to his icy, emotionless eyes.
---
Timeline of the three.
- 13 years BCW (before the Cloud War) Halflings Ashanshi Cond**ne and Eleice Cond**ne are born.
- 1BCW Ashanshi Cond**ne receives the prophecy; “the love of your father will bring forth blood from your sister’s heart”.
- 0BCW Ashanshi Cond**ne refuses to join his father’s campaign and is almost murdered. He becomes a vampire under High Lord Alan Bloodsong’s command.
- The Cloud War begins; Dekaan Cond**ne (Cloud’s sire) forms one side, the High Lord’s troops another and finally, the rebelling humans. The war lasts one hundred years, ending with the near extinction of Type B vampires and the complete enslavement of humankind in Ra-Vale. During the war, Ashanshi becomes “Prince Cloud Bloodsong” and commands Alan’s troops to a bloody victory.
- The war costs Alan his wife and leaves him with a single biological son, Lee Bloodsong. He marries one of the rare Type B Vampires left, Reine Cond**ne (Dekaan’s younger sibling), who is searching desperately for power. They produce many children; Xetel, Xanthe, Joyce, Taipa, Evande and Rhaja.
- 379ACW (After the Cloud War) Thomas Moonroe is born in Ra-Divide.
- 383ACW Winter Salutations-Fleetfoot is born in Ra-Reale.
- 384ACW Nicholas Moonroe is born.
- 386ACW Winter Salutations-Fleetfoot accidentally kills his brother, Fragments Fleetfoot. He is disowned by his father (Kukulcan Fleetfoot) and joins the Dragon Mafia, run by his half-brother (Zaphir Salutations-Fleetfoot).
- 389ACW Thomas Moonroe is bitten by a werewolf. He runs away and is assumed dead by his family.
- 394ACW Thomas Moonroe returns to kidnap his brother, now known as “Scythe” and as the commanded of the Werewolf Extermination Movement. The movement consists of “tamed” werewolves and cured werewolves working to either cure or kill others, until the species exists no more. Nicholas Moonroe is trained in the way of the slayer.
- 399ACW Nicholas Moonroe becomes “Sylver” and takes his place within the ranks of the WEM. He refuses to become a full tame werewolf and instead is injected with booster genes.
- 399ACW Winter Salutations-Fleetfoot brutally slaughters his way to the second in command position of the Dragon Mafia.
- 403ACW Reine Cond**ne-Bloodsong and Dekaan Cond**ne are killed in self defence by Kruko and Kukulcan Fleetfoot. As Kukulcan Fleetfoot is Dekaan’s childe, this makes him the heir to Ra-Vale by technicality. Due to his relationship with David Bloodsong, Alan’s adopted son, Alan allows him to become constitutional monarchy with little power.
- 404ACW The three (Cloud, Winter and Sylver) meet for the first time. Cloud is assigned to assist the WEM as Alan backs the movement; the Dragon Mafia find werewolves on their territory and Winter is given as added muscle to the trio.
- 405ACW Cloud marries Valentine (unknown last name) and produces heirs.
- 405ACW Alan Bloodsong re-marries to Lysander Hawkfrost, another Type B vampire but they truly fall in love – foiling a plan to have him assassinated. Lysander abandons his upstanding family name and becomes a Bloodsong.
- 405ACW Scythe dies painfully as the werewolf curse finally overtakes body. His body has been failing due to adverse reaction for over three years and he has hidden the pain.
- 405ACW Sylver becomes a full blooded werewolf to take the place of his brother. His friendships and relationships take the back seat and he loses himself to his work.
- 406ACW Scythe is reincarnated sans some memories and genetically modified thanks to Cloud’s science, becoming Thomas Moonroe once more. His brother refuses to acknowledge his being alive until forced.
Important notes:
Type A Vampires;
Very magically inclined, these vampires see the world mostly in black and white. They see pulse points as red and lay lines of magic as green. They can walk in the sunlight with no adverse consequences. They can typically control one element better than the others, but are adept at most conjurations. Their eyes are usually red. They gain sexual pleasure from feeding from a victim and don’t usually kill their prey.
Type B Vampires;
Unable to use most magic; they instead master completely one element and use this to fight. They’re better at transformation and disguise than their counterparts. Most also have an animal or creature form. They see the world in full colour and cannot walk in the sunlight for more than an hour at the most. Their eyes are usually red, orange or purple. They don’t have sexual relations with their prey and usually drain the victim completely.
Dekaan Cond**ne;
One of two heirs left to the true throne of Ra-Vale. Since the last king’s mysterious disappearance (and indeed, some say, murder) Ra-Vale has been under the command of the High Lord Bloodsong. Dekaan is desperate to return his bloodline to the throne. Since he fathered a son and sired a younger vampire, he has produced two heirs of his own.
Reine Cond**ne-Bloodsong;
The younger sibling of Dekaan Cond**ne with no claim to the throne, since the elder has a son and a childe.
Alan Bloodsong;
The ruthless and yet fatherly old vampire who has ruled Ra-Vale since the King’s disappearance; he keeps the true heirs under a tight control. Of the surviving heirs, one is life-mated to his adopted son and the other is one of his adopted sons.
Childe;
A ‘childe’ is a human turned into a vampire by an elder vampire. Depending on the species, this can produce different relationships. Generally a Type A vampire’s venom causes no pain and they adopt the childe as their son/daughter. Type B vampires endure a painful change and are usually considered servants of the vampire that changed them. E.g. David Bloodsong is the childe and adopted son of Alan Bloodsong. Kukulcan Fleetfoot is the childe of Dekaan Cond**ne and was considered his slave until the death of his sire.
Halfling;
The son or daughter of a human and a vampire; they usually become vampires on their sixteenth birthday and until then, exist as a normal human being. Occasionally a Halfling may not become a vampire at all and live a perfectly ordinary life amongst their human kin. If a Halfling is changed by another vampire – not their parent – before their sixteenth birthday, they may become a ‘mongrel’; neither Type A nor Type B, but a little of the both. Usually they take more strongly after the species of the parent vampire.
Crossbloods;
The product of a Type A and a Type B having a child together; usually they take the species of the father and have few traits of the mother. Very rarely they may take after the mother, but usually still carry traits of the father if this is so.
The Cloud War;
Triggered by the changing of previously thought to be human, Ashanshi Cond**ne, into a vampire; the oppressed (but free) humans rose up against their vampire overlords in rebellion. Dekaan Cond**ne took advantage of their distraction and formed a Type B vampire attack force in the hope of regaining his rightful thrown. The war lasted exactly one hundred years and ended with the near extinction of Type B vampires and the complete enslavement of the human race. During the war, Ashanshi Cond**ne took upon himself the name Cloud Bloodsong, abandoning the remainder of his humanity to lead Alan’s troops. The war created at least three new species (Blood Stags, Nyadd Dogs and Wraithkin); each of which are explained below in detail for those who are interested.
Ra-Reale;
Ruled by dragons and inhabited by feral creatures, it is a mostly mountainous land. Towards the south it mellows out into grassland.
Ra-Divide;
The narrow strip of land connecting Ra-Vale and Ra-Rael. It is completely covered by the Dark Forest and inhabited solely by outlaws; there is literally no law here and the people come in all shapes and sizes.
Ra-Vale;
Ruled by vampires and mostly low-lying hilly grassland; the Dark Forest covers a quarter of the land in the north.
Notes for me:
Nyadd dogs:
Nyadd dogs resemble muscular lurcher dogs, usually either black or dark brown in colouring; depending on the sex, they either have minimal purple or blue markings around the face and sometimes down the back. Their toes are webbed, their fur short and sleekly waterproof; a purebred Nyadd dog can breathe underwater. They also have the uncanny ability to know when a human is within a mile of them; they can’t resist hunting them down, though they rarely kill the quarry. This is due to their being bred by Type B vampires – they’re designed to bring down the prey but keep it alive until the master vampire arrives to feed. They also hate Type A vampires and were used as dogs of war during the Cloud War. Nyadd dogs are rare and usually found in close company of their masters, not surviving well on their own.
Blood Stags:
So-called for their six-foot wide sharpened antlers, these stags are in actual fact, genderless; they reproduce by fighting violently and where two stags’ blood mingles, a fawn is produced. They are omnivorous and eat anything that gets in their path; most creatures avoid them like the plague, especially when they travel in small groups. The Blood Stag’s strangest quality is if they are killed in a way which spills any of their blood, they will reform from the blood unharmed after a varying period of time. Usually the older the stag, the less time it takes for them to ‘reincarnate’; their lifespan is also undetermined, as very few studies of the species have been made without the researcher being eaten. They grow between six to seven feet tall at the shoulder and usually resemble a large red deer stag; though their eyes are red and contain the reflection of hell fire. The only way to control a Blood Stag is to collar it with copper as a young fawn and raise it under strict command; even then, they will usually only listen to Type A Vampires, due to being bred as steeds during the Cloud War. Blood Stags have been driven across Ra-Divide into Ra-Real and are now very common, taking over from native deer owing to their cannibalistic tendencies.
Wraithkin:
There are only three of these creatures known to exist in the whole of the three lands; Paradox, Charoné and Alesis. Two great conjurers of the Type B rebellion journeyed to the corners of their land to consult with three of the most terrifying creatures of all time; the Wraiths of Ice, Fire and Shadow. Usually these creatures inhabit their respective elemental homes and only appear to travellers to bargain for souls; the magicians sold their souls for three presents… children from pairings of the Wraiths. Interested in the future they could dimly sense, the creatures agreed, even allowing the magicians to keep their souls until their death, when they would be collected. The Shadow Wraith only agreed to one child with the Fire Wraith; Paradox, who as per the request of the magicians, took the mortal form of a lioness. Charoné and Alesis were born to the more generous Fire and Ice Wraiths, who were more inclined to play in the lives of mortals and far more meddlesome. Charoné took the shape of another lioness and Alesis, a kitsune. The cubs were each born a year apart and taken immediately to a research centre.
Paradox grew to the size of slim male lion and born red and black markings, mimicking the colours of her powers. Initially she seemed mostly normal; then the horns atop her head sprouted (two black straight horns with a smaller, backwards curved horn between them) and her powers suddenly shone through. She could teleport between shadows, possess shadows to move and set fire to her entire body without coming to harm; this fire clung to living flesh and burnt it beyond repair within seconds. She was fitted with leather thongs wrapped around her forelegs which supported artificial giant steel claws as her war training began.
Charoné also grew to the size of a male lion, but stockier than her sister and with powerful forelegs, able to tip over a jeep without exerting herself. She was mostly red and white coloured, save for light green eyes; eventually she sprouted curled silver ram horns with a ridged surface. If surprised from behind, she would disappear into mist for a fraction of a second and then become insane with rage upon reappearing; like her sister, she possessed the ability to set herself on fire without harm, but also to freeze herself in ice as well. She was fitted with three interlocking leather rings around her tail, each studded with four deadly silver spikes as her war training began.
Little is known about Alesis, other than that he could speak the language of the vampires and possessed a very malicious, manipulative personality which would eventually be their downfall. He twisted his sisters against the magicians and tricked them constantly, leading to the conjurers writing much in their research of their hatred for him. It is known that he would randomly set fire to objects or cause the floor to become slippery with ice as a vampire walked past. He was not fitted with any kind of weapon nor trained in the art of war. His powers manifested long before his horns sprouted; seven twisted spikes down the line of his spine, each with a wicked point and two straight smooth horns with a double pronged tip between his ears. Nothing is mentioned of his size, colouring or shape, other than that he was a kitsune; only the horns are known about in detail, thanks to a scientist speculating on their twisted and double pronged nature, wondering if it was a reflection of his personality.
From this point onwards, the research and history of the three is somewhat clouded and befuddled; after much time spent by later generations, it was pieced together that somehow, Alesis’ powers increased tenfold upon the appearance of his horns. It seemed that he developed some kind of possessive power which could turn vampires against one another. Eventually the entire research facility became insane and the three broke free, murdering the scientists, magicians and the population of three nearby towns. Here they disappear from history, only to appear as vague references or sightings in folklore; none of these sightings can be proved. It is said that the loss of the three Wraithkin cost the Type B revolution the war’s victory, as they had invested so much time and effort into the project.
EXTRA NOTES ON RA-REALE/RA-VALE/RA-DIVIDE AND THEIR VARYING GOVERNANCE, SPECIES AND RELIGIONS.
Mreetha;
A Mreeth (plural Mreetha) is a medium sized member of the felidae family, more commonly known as feline or cats. As a general rule, the females are around the size of a small Labrador dog; males can be up to five inches taller to the shoulder, though are generally of a slimmer, less stocky build. The Mreetha possess perhaps the largest ear to body ratio of any mammal, each ear being up to two feet in length and ridged on the inside; they stay in constant contact with one another due to being able to make and hear sounds which other animals cannot. Their eyes are quite large in comparison to their faces but while they are exceptional at spotting movement, they are not brilliant at recognising detail; in fact they are quite short sighted.
As a general rule the eyes are bi-coloured, the inner iris being a darker shade than the outer sclera; usually brown and green, or yellow and orange. During the summer months they are muted brown, reddish and black colours; mating season falls between autumn and winter depending on the climate of the environ. Mating season sees their pelt spontaneously change colour and markings morph to become brighter colours and more distinctive shapes; yellows, dark greens, brighter reds, oranges and light purples are common at this time.
Each individual Mreeth have a wingspan sufficient to get them off the ground, these wings sprouting as a third pair of limbs behind the shoulders; in males the wings are up to a foot wider and longer, allowing them to sustain easier flight. Females are more likely to stick to gliding between branches rather than actually taking to the air regularly… females are also far less likely to live in co-existing groups. They are more violent, inclined to attack anything that has the misfortune to mildly irritate them; even so, they will work together to bring down large prey… then squabble horribly over the prize. The Mreeth do not cultivate a territory or mark borders. Instead they may settle down in an area populated by many of their kind, or none at all! Females may drive away others if they encounter one another and each Mreetha does compete viciously for prey.
The tail of a Mreetha is designed entirely to aide in climbing – it can support the full weight of the owner for hours, is prehensile and generally acts as another limb. This is not the most remarkable of their features, however – the most shocking is that they can produce a sound which causes unease and nervousness in other animals, even in humans. It produces the strange urge to leave a certain place without exactly knowing why, confusing suspicious or paranoid creatures to the point of them running away scared.
Longsin:
The Longsin are considered the elite of the draconic world and there are no greater species at aerial manoeuvring. While other drakes have evolved to their surroundings, the Longsin are the only race to be artificially created and bred by their peers; there are a limited number allowed to be in existence at one time. Each Longsin must meet a perfection standard – perfect black scales, with bright red, blue and/or white colouring and strong silver horns, metallic eyes, wide wings, a certain size, magical potency and temperament – or by the time that they are sexually mature, they will become sterile naturally. Occasionally an imperfect dragon manages to breed just before sterility kicks in, though the young are born sterile from such a coupling. The Longsin possess a mane that runs from between their two horns, to the tip of their tail and can be bristled up into steel-hard spikes that defend the back. They are also unbeatable at turning quickly in the air, have longer than average legs and can spit ice at an aggressor; despite this, they have a built in urge to obey authority (in this case, the Emperor). They live in a medium sized clan atop a cliff and fish in the ocean, using their wonderful flying ability to fly even in the most changeable ocean gale. Every fifty years, the two strongest Longsin are selected to guard the Emperor. This is a great honour and they are usually promoted to high ranking clan-members when they return.
Emperor:
The Emperor is the ruler of Ra-Reale. He is a dragon over two hundred feet in length, six hundred years of age and pure white in colouring, from his scales to the leathery wing membranes that support him in flight (though he rarely takes to the skies, or indeed, moves from his clearing). His eyes are a pure sky blue and seem to be filled with a kind of wisdom. He lives in a small clearing in one of the only forests in Ra-Reale and rarely leaves it; here a small harem of dragonesses also dwell, and his young amongst them. The Emperor’s true name is unknown, shrouded in mystery, as he insists on only being called ‘your grace’ by his subjects, mates and even his kin. He is protected by two Longsin dragons at all times, though he is more than capable of fighting his own battles. He has over two hundred heirs, though Debiru is the oldest surviving male of the broods he has produced.
Sir Alan Bloodsong, HL, AD:
Advisor and High Lord Alan Bloodsong (age 1002) is a Type A vampire who has ruled Ra-Vale since the true King mysteriously disappeared. The King’s son had been cut out of his will and prevented from taking the throne. There are those that suggest that Alan had something to do with this strange change of rule; indeed, he has gained massively from it. He is well known for taking in lost or abandoned children, either of human or vampiric species and offering them a new life as vampires of his court. As such, he has numerous adopted children in addition to his own plentiful biological heirs. Again, some state that this might be an attempt to keep the true heir off of the throne, though this may only be true in one case (Alan’s adopted son, Cloud, being the actual son of the heir himself). He is six feet four inches in height, with curly short black hair, bright red eyes and a body that appears to be around 30 years of age. He has had numerous failed relationships, but of these, he has been married three times and produced children with two of his spouses. Deanna Spiritmist-Bloodsong gave him his first biological heir, Lee Bloodsong; Reine Cond**ne-Bloodsong gave him Xetel, Xanthe, Joyce, Taipa, Evande and Rhaja Bloodsong; finally, he has adopted Cloud, Eleice (originally Cond**nes), David (prior last name unknown) and Ezra Crow (a distant descendant of Cloud’s youngest sister, apparently). Of these children, Xetel and Xanthe are Type B vampires; Cloud and Eleice are Halflings and Rhaja is a crossblood, taking more after Type A vampires. He has no children with his current spouse, Lysander Bloodsong.
Kahlkest:
Kahlkest is the Goddess of Ra-Reale; she takes the shape of her patron animal, a dragon and is usually depicted as a three headed black dragoness with six wings. Supposedly if you look into the burning golden eyes of Kahlkest, you can see all of creation and how she is the mother of it. She favours feral animals and the typical prayer to her usually involves a blood sacrifice, though normally only a few drops of blood are required.
Talkin:
Talkin is the God of Ra-Vale; he takes the shape of his patron creature, a handsome black haired vampire with magnificent ruby-coloured eyes. Supposedly he can take the form of a hulking black lion and often roams the mortal world in this shape, tricking those who do not worship him correctly, while rewarding those who do. He favours supernatural creatures and a prayer to him requires a sacrifice of human blood; usually enough to fill a small goblet, so normally not fatal to the human involved and preserving the rest of the precious resource.
SO MUCH WRITING.
Anyone who read all of that not only gets a cookie, but a pineapple and a hug. Anyone who understood more than 80% of it gets like, the world and ten thousand internets.
Love,
Ze Kanairu <3