The Grey Dust

The Blood Compact

Hmmm...guys I think I'm gonna drop this one. I'm just not feeling it anymore and I've kinda been out of touch with it for a while. Plus my posts are kinda suck, so I'm relinquishing control over my characters to anyone who wishes to usurp them. Sorry if I disappointed anyone, for that wasn't my intention, but...I guess I'll see you guys later.

@Rusalka

Why. What is the meaning of this? Explain yourself for abandoning us mid coit- er... Roleplay. Either way, the choice is ultimately yours, however I do not think your posts suck, tis a matter of character interactions of which no one was able to do so until recently.

The Blood Compact

Man proposes. God disposes.

The Blood Compact

Darkness ever flowing darkness. What light was snuffed, what mortal eyes dared try to search for the light. No flames burned, no light broke as the darkness consumed the very essence of it all. There in the perfect dark the blood of dozens called out to the vampires. Like wolves in the night to lambs to the slaughter. While the children played however, as Lady Mo had done away with the fog and mist obscuring, the darkness lingered on unnaturally sapping the light away as if to extinguish all hope of surviving. Yet through it all, the mist and fog, and battle scenes it was evident to the old knight where the warriors were. While the rest were merely unworthy blood, three came into the interest of Lord Bedivere. One was a young human, who had seemed to direct the modern archers. The wave of covering fire against the Purge knights was interesting as metal plates met bullet rounds. This one seemed to be the leader in terms of ranged warfare, able to call in the shots as the SOLIDER began to assault the battle tanks, though such explosions would be shortly suppressed in the unnatural darkness. But as any archer knows, arrows are not without end and soon perhaps his forces would be unable to deal with the surge of both Purge and Vampires. Another was the figure in the metal jacket, who emerged from the mist victorious as it seems. Strange that in the such a fog which lingered so, the warrior managed to find his prey. Though given the actions and the stake it appeared it was a Purge member who had staked a vampire operative of the SOLIDER. This one had bested a vampire in the fog, something rather of interest to Lord Bedivere for such details were important in a battle. Without sight, the metal being had managed to not only find a vampire but defeat it. To know one's enemy is to know one's weaknesses, and as such, it would be ill-advised to engage in such a worthy adversary until all the cards were accounted for. However, to know one's allies is to know their weaknesses and as such, this fallen vampire was also of interest to the former knight. Swooping in like a hawk did the Raven land upon the silvered stake claws wrapt around the handle. The work of Gabriel no doubt, the only presence which could be so fickle as to let such a rogue vampire live in shame of being defeated by a tin man. Unless of course the hand had miraculously slipped and the cyborg was not the adversary he had expected. Nevertheless, a pocketsquare-shrouded hand griped around the stake and removed it from the body of the fallen vampire which appeared far younger than he himself, but far older than the new blood. Speaking of blood, as the elaborate stake was removed, a bit of the vampire's blood was collected on Lord Bedivere's pocketsquare as he took his humanoid form once again. They said the raven was an omen of death. But this vampire was different than the rest of the SOLIDER scum. Yes, while he was a traitor to his own kin, the knight could not help to empathize with the vampire as he laid there dying in the shame of being swiftly bested before even drawing blood. Such retribution was necessary, and as Gabriel in his twisted humor decided to let this one off with but a nearly fatal wound, perhaps the Ancient had foreseen a critical role for this vampire and thus allowed him to live. Or maybe it was merely a jest to mock the power of the Purge? Either way, it was best to use this puppet as a means to an end. Perhaps he could be swayed to join them and abandon humanity all together. "Balm of Gilead, Azoth of Paracelsus, and Essence of the Stone..." Whispered the knight as his other hand administered a single drop of colourless liquid from a small vial retrieved from his briefcase. It was never wise to travel without such a small quantity in such cases, even as a vampire could regenerate most wounds, the critical ones were difficult and the silver blade would be far more dangerous to recover from at such a wound. A single drop would be all which was needed to restore the moderate wound and blood lost, as regeneration accelerated, blood flowed and flesh sealed, the what pain of silver and holiness would be washed away with a cool warmth like that of a sun-basked sand against the cool ocean tide. Soon, unlife returned to Mithias reaching into his being and pulling him back slowly into the form of flesh. "You fight for the wrong side, child of night. For this reason you have been knell by a lesser foe." With those words to reflect on did Bedivere leave the awakening Mithias, in the form of the raven once again as he recovered the stake and blood away in his briefcase of things (amongst which was an old hatchet to be brought before Lady Mo later.) and back into the darkest night did the Raven fly back to observe perching itself upon a high tree with the eyes of a demon dreaming.

The Black Band [Mercenary Works]

Waiting on Dynamo to post before finishing.

The Blood Compact

There we go. A perfect setting for vampires to come out and join the fray. If you wonder what the darkness is like, first turn off all the lights within 500 feet from you. Next, close your eyes. Then, stab your eyes repeatedly with a black ink fountain pen until the pen runs out of ink or your eyes run out of blood.

The Blood Compact

Darkness. Far older than the first vampire. As infinite as the void of space, existing far beyond the measure of time. But all too well banished by even the smallest candlelight. What power was the light which dared to face its elder? The raven flew high in to the night sky. It may have been strange for those attuned to the natural world, to observe such a bird active at such hours. Lady Mo perhaps would have found it assuming that Lord Bedivere chose this form, although it was not without thought nor reason. The raven was a symbolic bird, and perhaps those with some insight into the legends of the isle would smile as the Last Knight of Camelot took the form of a Raven as he had always throughout the history of Britannia. Put back against the black, his feathers of midnight were but faintly separate against the sky, only the rising moon and emerging stars dared revealed him from above. What accursed cosmic light from the heavens dare serenade this night of the vampire? Even still, far greater than the dim glimmers of the pale stella-luna, were the great flames of battle and flash of powder. Chaos began, unfolding by the burning lights of flaming crucifixes and flambéed flesh. The screams of human suffering and torment woke the dead and undead the same, as by the evening the quiet earth stirred with the violence of man. There it was, man killing man for the sake of mankind, as another group had beaten the vampires to the honor of first blood. What was it now? Lord Bedivere took in the sight, his eyes sharpening at every figure and falling body. Dressed in armor, like the knights of yore, were one side, the fanatics he recalled, who perhaps were a splinter of the original SOLIDER. The Purge was it? A biblical cult of vampire hunters who thought themselves as humanity's last hope? By order of the Crown, Parliament and the Prime Minister, the Purge had been outlawed in the UK under the official ruling of being a militant religious extremist group. And what underground sect remained were offed by the werewolves. After all, it would be a terrible mistake to let such a group gain power in a vampire-run country. What mockery of true knights. They were like the crusaders who split blood over their beliefs, while each sin would be stitched into their holier-than-thou souls. Who amongst men of their faith could absolve the wrongs of man? While man forgives his insolent dogs, will their Gods forgive them? They have killed each other over petty differences, while vampires kill them for substance as one species preys upon the other. They would never understand unless their cows begin to gore each other. And as he flew, with every flapping flutter of dark and feathered wings, a darkness fell upon the battlefield. It lingered and twisted around, seeping down upon the earth as the lights of the flames began to die and they soon smolder away like burnt matchsticks. Unnatural lights provided by means of electricity too flicked and dimmed slowly until they became no more as the darkness spread slowly across like plague. Even the moon and stars became darkened, their lights no longer piercing the void as it crept along to swallow the light. Nevermore, Nevermore. The victory of light is but scant few hours. While Darkness shall reign eternal at the end of time.

The Blood Compact

I was reading poetry.

The Blood Compact

apologies for the short post. I'll post a little more later after everyone has made their next rounds of posts, Bedivere will observe the battle as a Raven. Although perhaps he may just be tempted to spill some blood of those silly purge knights. Mostly for the fun of watching those pretenders play dress up.

The Blood Compact

"Ah most excellent then," The old vampire then turned to his enthralled human, "Unfortunately for you, it appears your services are no longer required." At those words the human seemed to have paled slightly, though unable to resist the voice of the vampire, the blood ran cold from his veins. Well, perhaps rather it ran out, as he found himself attacked by younger vampires who had scarcely held self-control over their own hunger the very moment the human walked in the room. Perhaps it was fear which gripped their desires to sink into the museum curator's flesh, or perhaps it was resect. Either way, it was shortly after Lord Bedivere suggested his disinterest at the human servant did they take the hint to freely feast upon it as the screams of the thrall echoed deep below. Like wolves to a lamb, they descended upon him, a frenzy of flailing limbs and desecration. Feral children of the night. "Now Lord Shane, in company of such uncouth, expendable younglings, is a proper strategy even required? I hardly believe this outpost is equipped to handle our current numbers, let alone an elder such as yourself. Henceforth, I move to make a notion to begin the attack, as night has fallen upon us." The knight's shape changed form as he finished, his clothing twisting itself to match as cloth became broke and became down which turned into blackened feathers, and his leather oxfords elongated and became tipped with claws before splitting. The coattails of his suit extended itself and fanned out, the briefcase and umbrella merged into his sleeves as they became wings and soon Bedivere took the form of a raven which perched itself upon the horrified face of the exsanguinated body of the curator. With the flutter of black wings, the vampire took to the skies and the night.

The Blood Compact

You have a cyborg Death-ninja. We have a Hulk.

@The Grey Dust

First off, nice reference Second, you don't have the Hulk

@thewizardguy

You have seemingly misinterpreted my article. We have a Hulk. Be it The Hulk or not, we have A Hulk.