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[h2][color=lightblue]Gibbou[/color] and [color=Maroon]Fe’ris[/color][/h2]
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	The paper screen slid aside with ease as Tskauchi snuck his way into the darkened room, careful to keep his robes from snagging on the damp wood paneling. During the day, Daimyo Praeka’s throne room would’ve been bustling, full of groveling Reshut trying to curry favor with the powerful warlord. But now, the paper lanterns were extinguished, the warm sunlight replaced with nothing but cold stars. Indeed, all those who could see him were but the distant pinpricks of light and the chirping insects in the nearby marshes. He was safe.

	Quieter than a snake, he slid across the wood grain, making his way on silent, bare feet to the mound of pillows his father sat on during waking hours. He would have to be extremely careful now, as even the slightest skin-to-skin contact with the hemlock hidden in his robes would be fatal. The hemlock alone would never be able to penetrate the daimyo’s long, flowing robes. But the sharp pin, doused in the plant’s fatal toxin? That would do splendidly. He extracted a small bronze pin, long but thin, and coated it in the poison— carefully, carefully. Satisfied with its deadliness, Tsukauchi arranged the pin in the pillows, so that it would be unnoticed until sat upon and by then, it would be too late. Yes, it was nearly invisible amidst the colorful cushions and fabrics. 

	As quietly as he had entered, Tsukauchi left. He knew he would need a good night’s sleep to be properly prepared for the chaos that the next day would bring.


~~~


	Daimyo Praeka leapt to his feet, clutching his thigh and howling. Tsukauchi turned his head, doing his best to appear concerned as his father hopped around, knocking over expensive ornamental vases, crashing into servants holding platters of exotic fruits, screaming and wailing before eventually collapsing onto the floorboards. From his position, he could just barely glimpse the long, broken spire poking out of the daimyo’s lower thigh, swathed in miles of expensive fabric. The warlord struggled to one leg and pointed viciously at the pile of pillows, his snarl apparent even under the mask.

	“Snake! Snake! Something bit me!”

	Tsukauchi’s other siblings all jumped to their feet as well, climbing over one another to get away from the danger. The servants held the wide platters up as shields, looking around for the serpent. The eldest Reshut prince even joined in on the search, sweeping his arms out to protect the younger ones from the animal he knew wasn’t there, if only to play the part. He was very grateful for his own mask, as it made it that much easier to hide the massive grin stretching across his face.

	“My lord,” proposed one brave servant, as they fruitlessly searched the pillow pile, “are you sure it was a snake? We cannot seem to locate any such creature.”

	“It’s there,” spat the daimyo, his breathing labored. “My leg burns like fire.”

	“Father,” crooned Tsukauchi, slowly approaching the wounded Reshut, “allow me to examine your leg. It must be hurting fiercely.”

	“Fine,” hissed Praeka. “The rest of you will continue to look for it. I will not be satisfied until its severed head is brought to me!”

	“As you wish,” chorused the servants, one of whom had already whisked the remaining heirs and heiresses to something safer. Tsukauchi allowed his father to lean on him as the two hobbled to a different part of the royal palace. They quickly found an empty room, secluded by screens of rushes from the noises of royal negotiations and proceedings. Tsukauchi laid his father prone on the tatami mat. Already, the prince could tell that his father’s breathing was labored, his muscles tensing up. He was that much closer to the title of daimyo, and the prospect had all eight feet of his body bubbling with glee.

	Tsukauchi grabbed swathes of robes in his fists, sweeping aside coil after coil of silk, cotton, and linen. His movements were rushed, but the fabric just kept falling back into place. Finally, having felt he had stalled long enough, he exposed bare black skin, swollen and sour from where the pin had entered it.

	“Well? What do the bite marks look like? It was a snake, it must’ve been.” Tsukauchi’s smile faded as he realized that, though the toxins had successfully entered his father’s bloodstream, it would take far too long to do any lasting damage. The dosage was not nearly enough. When the nurses finally arrived and removed the pin, they’d find a way to purge it from his body entirely. The prince had failed.

	“Yes, father, it was a snake. I can see the wound now.” He pinched the thin, needle-like blade and slowly drew it out, spurting forth navy blue blood. He quickly wiped it on his father’s robe, then slipped it within his own. Anyone looking at the wound would think it was some sort of single-fanged creature. That didn’t make sense. Mind racing, Tsukauchi came up with a new plan. A shoddy plan. But one that should hopefully work anyway, before they were intruded upon. “Oh, oh no.” He allowed his voice to fall, taking on a note of horror. “I’ve seen a bite like this before.”

	“You have? Where?” The elder Reshut tried to roll his head around, stomach pressed to the floor, to see what Tsukauchi was looking at. But the prince simply pressed down on the small of his back, keeping his face in the mat.

	“It was during my training as an envoy. We were in the field, practicing navigating across the swamps. One of my fellow trainees slipped, and his leg went into the mire. When he came out, he had a bite just like this. He only survived because he ate something green.” A weak lie, but a good enough one.

	“Green?” His voice was alarmed. “Then get me something green! Hurry, there’s no time to waste!” Tsukauchi rolled his eyes, but did as asked… to a degree. He ran up to the paper door, slid it open, slid it shut, then pretended to run it off. Thirty seconds later, he did the same process in reverse, running up and kneeling by his father’s head.

	“I got the first thing I could find.” He presented the hemlock, hoping the old fool would cram it down his throat without a second thought. Sure enough, Praeka snatched it with one hand, lifted the intricate mask adorning his face with another, and horked it down, not even pausing to smell it or taste it. Instantly, the Reshut went into convulsions, white foam dripping down his neck. Disgusted, Tsukauchi stood, rolling his father onto his back with one foot. Gurgling noises arose from his throat as the froth pooled and bubbled in his mouth, blocking air and drowning him in his own reaction to the poison. Wheezing noises issued from the long, lanky chest as the hemlock shut down his respiratory system. The flailing grew feebler and feebler as the great warlord Daimyo Praeka drowned in his own spit.

	Carefully, carefully, making sure to not touch any of the saliva, Tsukauchi hooked a finger under the white mask and lifted it up to get a glimpse of the face that had sired him. Bulging blue eyes looked back up at him with glazed malice, set deeply into a wrinkled, misshapen, and sallow face, pores dilated and weeping the fluids of death. Disgusted, Tsukauchi lowered it back down. He would take the memory to his grave.

	He rose back to his full height, the lantern light flickering ominously around him. The prince took a deep breath, stealing himself for the performance he was about to give.

	“Help, help! There’s something wrong with the daimyo! He’s dying! Help!” His cries of desperation were met by a dozen sets of running feet, shaking the delicate palace walls. But perhaps, it was the excited beating of Tsukauchi’s heart that really shook them.

[hr]

	Gibbou had been spending her time since leaving Cadien’s realm on a bench in the Antiquity, sufficiently hidden from most sources of light. She had been observing mortality below through a mirage of moon dust, observing life in the night as she had promised her sister she’d do. It wasn’t a pretty sight, but millennia of this had taught her to ignore certain natural processes - the tigers in the night had to eat, too, after all.

	However, a certain event taking place in the Kylsar Isles had her blood boiling - intentional murder, of one’s own father no less, all to usurp his position. She felt her form flicker between its human shape and the wickedness of the night, her skin seeming to blacken and her eyes turning blood red. She coalesced the moon dust mirage into a stone and, taking aim, sent it flying into the cosmos with a mighty rage. 

	As if he had simply materialized from her bad thoughts, Fe’ris was by her side, watching the stone soar away into infinity. [color=Maroon]“Oh, Lady of the Night, what troubles you so, if you don’t mind my asking?”[/color]

	Gibbou barely even reacted, though the darkness in her skin retracted somewhat. When she turned to Fe’ris, the redness in her eyes had reduced to a mere case of bloodshot veins. [colour=lightblue]”Oh, Fe’ris, you magnificent bat… Sorry, I was just… Ugh… There’s this mortal - this utter-- ugh! He killed his father in the night - MY night - all so he could snatch his title and lands. I mean-- who does that?! What happened to patience? To, to, to waiting for your due inheritance, huh?”[/colour]

	He nodded apologetically. [color=Maroon]“Ambition can do that to some, who feel they have a right to power and prestige before their time is due. It is an unfortunate reality. I would do something to curb such heinous acts, but I feel it would infringe on free will to ban such things outright. If only there existed some discouragement, some cosmic retribution to keep the greedy better in line…”[/color] The bat god sighed, torn between the ideals of morality and freedom. [color=Maroon]“You wouldn’t happen to have such an idea, would you?”[/color]

	The moon goddess drummed her right fingers impatiently on her opposite arm. [colour=lightblue]”As a matter of fact, I might… But I hope my sister never finds out about it.”[/colour] She turned to Fe’ris with a frown. [colour=lightblue]”Mortals this one want power, huh? Fine. We’ll give them power - in fact, we’ll give them so much power that they won’t be satisfied by a normal life anymore. No, they shall regret ever even thinking about killing for ambition![/colour] She snapped her fingers and a ball of shadow appeared between them. Gibbou started twisting and turning both her hands in a circular motion above the orb, slowly spinning it outwards into a disk. [colour=lightblue]”Those whose hearts are as black as the night sky and think their ambitions to be above the lives of those they kill for them - know forever that the night will be your prison for your crimes. You wanted power? Oh, you shall have power. May your curse make you strong, fast, immortal even! But the second you think you are above the night and walk into the day, you will perish to dust at the dawn of the very first ray.”[/colour] She eyed Fe’ris. [colour=lightblue]”What you think? Needs more?”[/colour]

	[color=Maroon]“Umm…”[/color] Fe’ris scratched at his pseudo-beard, thinking it over. [color=Maroon]“It’s definitely, erm, creative. But I feel it would only affect a few, select people. Would they not die too soon, crumbling to dust before they could learn the horrors of what they’ve done to themselves in their hunger for power? And I feel there could be more bats involved. Maybe they can turn into bats, or turn other people into bats. Clouds of bats!” He clasped his claws together in glee. “Yes. Bats. Everywhere, descending from above to dole out justice! Tiny harbingers of death, emissaries of the night! Muahahahaha!”[/color] He got a little caught up in the fantasy, rambling on about bats for a weird amount of time. 

	[colour=lightblue]”B-but… Bats are kind and sweet! They eat fruit and insects for the most part!”[/colour] moped Gibbou with a frown. [colour=lightblue]”I don’t want them anywhere near these, these monsters!”[/colour]

	[color=Maroon]“Okay,”[/color] he conceded, trying not to pout. But his questions about the curse remained. [color=Maroon]“How will they survive? It should be a great challenge, to not go in the sunlight. A temptation, even. Like their sustenance is diurnal, but to witness Oraelia directly would mean death. Perhaps they must pick fruit that only comes out in daylight?”[/color]

	[colour=lightblue]”No, they’d definitely die… Do we even want these kinds of people to live? Like, sure, they have to stand as a symbol - show mortalkind what you’re -not- supposed to do in this world, but…”[/colour] She hummed thoughtfully. [colour=lightblue]”No, you’re right - they should be able to sustain themselves. But on what? Something… Something thematic for the fact that they draw blood for their ambitions...[/colour]

	Fe’ris grinned. [color=Maroon]“The perfect punishment. Extracting from others what they cannot make themselves. An insatiable lust for blood, haunting them the rest of their immortal lives. I could never come up with something so apt myself. What shall we call the monsters?”[/color]

	[colour=lightblue]”Wait, we’re actually going with haemophagia?”[/colour] The moon goddess gagged a little. [colour=lightblue]”Ugh, I hate them already. They’re perfect. Turning into these nasty, blood-drinking monsters shall be the fate of all who murder for their ambitions! And they shall be called… Vampires![/colour]

[hr]

	Tsukauchi struggled to sit upright as the commemorative platinum crown was placed atop his head, balancing atop his robe precariously. The light filtering in the paper screens, illuminating the huge crowd of Reshut that had gathered below for the coronation, only made him more uncomfortable. He didn’t know why he felt so terrible. First, there had been the photosensitivity. Then, he’d begun to sweat blood, the same clear color as his eyes. His appetite for swamp fruits left him, replaced with a yearning for raw meat. His stomach rumbled and sweat dropped into his eyes. The young prince squirmed, hoping nobody would notice, but knowing deep down that all eyes were on him. 

	“Congratulations, your lordship,” crowed Admiral Akihito, a longtime friend and partner of his father’s, “on your rise to power. Your father was a great leader. He shall be sorely missed.”

	“Sorely,” whined Tsukauchi, eager for the ceremony to be over with. The admiral bowed before him, as was customary, and a patch of exposed skin appeared at the intersection of his robes and mask. It wasn’t much, merely an inch or so of night-dark flesh. But it was enough.

	Something evil roared within Tsukauchi, something massive and uncontrollable, and before he knew what he was doing, he had thrown aside his mask, plunging his teeth into the naps of the admiral’s neck. Blood gushed in fountainous spurts from the wound, filling the now-daimyo’s mouth faster than he could greedily suck it down. He was too invested to hear the horrified gasps, or the screams, or the pounding of feet belonging to Reshut that tried to pry him away. He just kept drinking, belly distending beyond the confines of his robes, until the poor admiral had nothing left to offer. Finally, horribly, he let his jaws unclamp. Power, delicious power, surged through his body, bordering on divine. When he scanned the hall, he saw not friends, family, and subjects, but sacks of meat, ripe for the harvesting. 

	Realization slowly crept upon Tsukauchi, as furious arms hauled him to the ground, lashing him still. Shocked voices shouted obscenities and questions at him, but they couldn’t be further away. They had seen his face. They had seen him kill a man. He had to flee.

	With his newfound strength, Tsukauchi threw them aside like he would’ve a bothersome clump of cobwebs, and, robes billowing around him, fled into the safety of the gloomy swamps of Kyslar.

[hider=Summary]
Some ambitious jerkwad Reshut in the Kyslar Isles decides to kill his pops so that he can become the new daimyo. He successfully poisons his old man in the dark of night, making Gibbou super upset. She wails about it to Fe’ris, and they hatch a plan that will curse anyone who commits a no-no for ambition by turning them into horrible, bloodsucking vampires! The Reshut, Tsukauchi, finds this out during his coronation, and flees into the swamp after ripping out a navy dude’s throat.
[/hider]

[hider=Em-Pee-Sum-Arr-Ee!]
Gibbou 4MP/3DP
-1DP (out of 2DP) Curse a group: Curse all of Galbar with [b]Vampirism[/b]. Vampirism is a curse that affects those who murder for their ambitions (killing your superior to assume their position; killing your sibling so you’ll be next in line instead of them; killing someone to acquire their inheritance, farmstead, kingdom, etc.) Those affected by vampirism exhibit the following traits: Immense strength, speed and immortality, as well as improved senses. However, they are also deathly allergic to the sun, to the point that being touched by a single ray will instantly vaporise them, and in order to stay alive, they have to consume at least one adult human (or their race equivalent)’s worth of blood every day.
Gibbou end: 4MP/2DP

Fe’ris 5MP/5DP
-1DP (out of 2DP) covers the rest of the curse cost.
End 5MP/4DP
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