Grimoire Gaming — Roleplayer Guild

Béatrix lay quietly on the ground, feeling surprisingly secure enough to fall in to and out of consciousness. Perhaps it wasn’t as much security as it was her injuries. A hit to the heart was enough to incompacitate a vampire at worst,  and slow to heal at best. One thing was for sure, and that was that she needed blood – badly. She hoped the mug she had before bed would be enough to heal her now, or she might end up doing something reckless.

Tholo sat up before Trixy, as wolves were notoriously fast healers. Not wanting to seem weak, Béatrix pushed herself to sit upright as well, despite the fact that her heart was still healing. Trixy took a deep breath, in doing so she noticed that Bartholomew smelled like he had drank a whole bar, she vainly wondered if she was the reason for his drinking.

”Want a cig?” he asked, breaking the silence between them. Trixy laughed quietly at his choice of thanks, the motion causing pain to throb in her chest. ”Or a cup of coffee? Don’t have blood.?” Just the mention of the last word was enough to quiet her laughter and awaken her inner vampire. The veins around her eyes darkened with desire, constrasting her skin like tiny fractures in porcelain. Had he been human, he would have been in trouble, but werewolf blood was a big turn off to vampires.

”I-I have some. It’s in the pack on my bike out front  - but, I can’t go out there looking like this,” Trixy pulled the light grey tank away from her body, the blood left a huge gruesome stain and caused it to cling to her Kevlar vest. She may be used to being covered in blood, but the innocent NYC passerbys would not be. ”Would you get it for me? I’d call it even for saving your ass.” she said snarkily, injured or not, she’d never miss the change to poke the wolf.

~~~Several hours later~~~


Beams of moonlight streamed in from the open window, glinting in her ethereal blue eyes - the only two sources of light in the room. Trixy was awake, but it wasn’t yet dawn… darkness, the hour of vampire. Casting the covers aside, panic started to rise up in the ancient woman. Something was wrong, very wrong. Someone was here while she slept, yet she lived? Instinct brought her cautiously to the front room, the gun from under her mattress in her hand. After peering around the doorframe, Trixy was assured the perpetrator was gone, for now at least, but a flash of white caught her eye. She stepped forward carefully and picked up the note to read.

 Little Madame,
Kindred soul, 
oft I think 
of the look you stole
 
Find me once,
shame on me - 
but find me twice?
we’ll wait and see

A villain’s redemption?
What a trivial tale…
In the face of a hero’s choice,
I know you’ll fail…
- B


The cryptic note was writ in blood, his blood. “Crazy rogue bastard!” she hissed, her voice sounding distorted with rage. Pale fingers tightened around the paper, crumpling it into her fist. She had his scent, and she wasn’t going to lose him this time. Trixy flitted to her room and threw on the first outfit she saw: skinny jeans and a gray tank worn over her Kevlar vest. She also wore a leather jacket to mask the fact that she couldn’t feel the morning chill. It’s best not to go around flaunting the fact that you are an armored, gun-toting vampire loose on the streets of NY. 

Béatrix took to the road on her Ninja, it was better to have her nose in the open air when following a scent trail . The clouds hung pretty heavy in the dark, early morning sky, but she hoped the rain would hold out long enough to finish the job. This was the closest she’d been to the perp since that night in the alleyway with Bartholomew. The rogue’s scent was stronger than ever as she turned the corner, but the name on the street sign almost caused her to hit the brakes. She knew that name… her near photographic memory brought up the image of her soul mate’s address on the police computer screen. Of course, the rogue was eliminating eyewitnesses… but the note? Why not kill her first, when he had the perfect opportunity? He must like games.

“Well, I’ll play.” Trixy said aloud to no one in particular as she hastily parked the biked and retrieved the dagger from her belt, holding it so the blade faced downward. The front door was closed but unlocked, so Trixy crept in quietly. The room she entered looked much like a living room with nothing notable to see, so she snuck forward. In doing so, she stepped on a piece of glass, a sound inaudible to human ears, but the vampire upstairs heard it. A commotion took place. She looked left, the glass was from some sort of display case that was broken into, it had fittings that looked appropriate to hold a pair of blades. This didn’t look hopeful, and for some reason, her dead heart metaphorically hammered in her chest as she practically took flight up the stairs. The first thing she saw was the wolf’s back as he squatted close to the ground, a blade sticking out while blood soaked his shirt. The image was too jarring, the feeling too familiar, it was enough to distract the ever-poised huntress.

“Tog dig længe nok , fransk hore” the rogue spoke with a tongue like a serpent. Trixy turned her burning gaze to him and lifted the right corner of her lips. ”Jaloux?” she said before dashing forward and taking a swipe at him. The Danish vampire was quick to parry her, and slammed her back with unexpected force. He was strong, but she had fury on her side. It was his turn to initiate, but when it came to her parry, she was just a few milliseconds to late, and he slashed the silver blade across her torso. Thankfully, the Kevlar protected her, but it also gave away that she was weak to a stabbing attack, and if he was a worthy opponent, he would capitalize on that knowledge. They traded blows for a few seconds, all the while the fact that Tholo was bleeding out behind them sat uncomfortably in her mind. This was her fault that he was involved... but why should she care? He was just another wolf, a killer who deserved death.

”In the face of a hero’s choice,
I know you’ll fail...”


The final lines of the rogue’s note taunted her. She’d kill him just to prove him wrong, now. Trixy growled, baring elongated fangs, and lunged at him one last time. The rogue rose his blade, but instead of parrying, he plunged it deep into her chest, using her own force against her. The breath left her in a hiss as the recoil sent her torso back and her head down. The silver sent wildfire blazing in her veins, but he had made one fatal error.

”You missed.” she whispered, peering up at him through the strands of ebony hair clinging to the blood on her face. Trixy punctuated the sentence by burying her own blade directly in his heart. ”I never miss,” were the last words he heard before his pale skin cracked, shattered, and then fell to the ground in a pile of ash. Truth is, he didn’t quite miss... the silver blade had nicked her heart, and her whole body felt ablaze. Trixy gripped the knife portruding from her chest, pulled it out, and sent it clattering to the wood floor. She looked over to Tholo, wolves were the supernatural race most incapacitated by silver. For a moment, the old version of herself told her to turn and leave him there to die. That’s when it hit her, killing the rogue was never the 'hero’s choice'. This was. Dead or not, she couldn’t let him win the game, and surely that is the only reason Trixy used the last of her strength to walk over and pull the knife from Tholo’s back before collapsing on the ground beside him.

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