The Grey Dust

Blood Compact: Vampire Genocide

Lower and lower did she set.
Streaked across the red sky,
Into the field of endless blue.
The couple enjoyed the view,
And in their romance exchanged a kiss.
Within each other's arms they lie,
to watch the last lights of day.
The tides came in and lovers met,
The knight from the deepest abyss.

So this was Hawaii. Pleasant enough, thought Bedivere as he wiped the corners of his mouth with an unsoiled silk. Two lifeless bodies remained behind him in the sand. The tides would carry them far from this place, and the denizens of the deep should mangle the rest. A fine evening snack to whet his appetite as the years seemed to peel away from his body yet again, now appearing as he would have so many years ago. The old knight was far less obvious in this sort of age, looking somewhere in his early to mid twenties, save for the red eyes and slightly long hair like white threads. The pair of sunglasses, not usual for the young lads to use as a fashion statement per the suggestion of his agents would conceal the eyes as he casually wore them across his face. The umbrella was still there, but the suitcase was replaced with a messenger bag in an attempt to look more his supposed age. As such, the archaic knight should pass for a human, if not for perhaps his well-articulated, and posh-accented speech suggesting his nationality. Although maybe these pseudo-rebellious-Colonists would simply assume he was some British bloke on travel, and probably thought all Englishmen were pale and spoke with an RP. Nevertheless, passing by the few tourists and locals who gave a bit of a few stares, but hesitated to ask the fedora'd Bedivere if he was enjoying his evening stroll.

Crimson Drop Hotel

"Good evening Gentlemen, Please send Mr. O’Neal of Yamada my regards and kindly ask him if I may reclaim the bottle once he has finished his drink." Bedivere simply stated to the rather confused front desk. Then again, unless they were informed of Bedivere's invitation or were superbly incompetent, they had every right to be confused. Bedivere may have been described to them as an older Englishmen, and yet here was a boy, perhaps his errand boy?. "Now then, perhaps a spot of tea for your guest hrm? Black Ceylon, loose tea, no sugar, or milk. Lemon, thinly sliced and slightly candied. Served in a cup and saucer proper. Within Five minutes from the kitchen if possible. If not, well then I shall be gravely disappointed in your ability to provide service."

This was Bedivere alright, a true Englishman never starts the day off without a proper cup. Something was needed to wash down the fatty blood of those Americans.

Blood Compact: Vampire Genocide

I'll post probably tomorrow. Is it nighttime yet? Or even remotely close to evening?

The Silent Watch [Ebonfort]

The forge was hot. Her flames a harsh mistress, an inexorable heat from the radiant embers which she spewed. To withstand her was a test, a labour to work her ferocity in the unrelenting pyre. She was a virgin, her pure flames the essence to be stolen with steel. She was a mistress who kissed your blade and licked the edges by her tongues. She was a mother, for in the heat of her heart a weapon shall be made. The blacksmith, a midwife pulling the glowing metal from the womb, as he examined the newborn for any birth defects. And that is where the similarities end, for now the smith takes up the anvil, to beat upon the brand with a hammer. To tinker out the wrinkles, the thrice-dozen-fold steel grunted in return, spewing out the sparks of life with the rhythmic tapping of metal. The first dozen stroke, the second, and third, like brutal brushstrokes upon a canvas forcing the will of the artist upon the crying blade as it began to die into a deadened grey. Thrust once more into the hells it was cast.

"Master Gregory! Master Gregory!" A boy of around nineteen years of age rushed into the open-air shop, or rather the forge as the shop was an different area altogether. He looked only marginally competent, wearing a smith's apron and a sleeveless tunic with small belt around his right thigh. This boy was Kenneth, a straw-haired apprentice who could barely smith a set of straight nails without the shadow of the senior overlooking him, and he was supposed to be minding the shop and organize today's jobs between what was completed and what is to be done. Of which, several piles of hatchets, axes, and blades were set in a crate for pickup after being sharpened at the whetstone, their owners would have to claim them back from Kenneth who admittedly did have difficulty in keeping their original owners attached to their effects. It was during this sorting that an Ebonknight swung by and the stupid boy thought he was picking up a sword. It was only after a few awkward minutes of the lad telling the knight to wait a moment while he figured out which blade was it. Did he realize the knight not here for the wrong blade he was given.

"There's an Ebon, here to see you, doesn't want blades though, maybe some plates? We haven't had any armor orders in awhile, maybe some light chain? I'm pretty good with chain right Master? I think last week I did an okay job in repairing that iron mail right? I mean sure you had to step in and finish the patch after I didn't follow the original pattern but I-" The Gargoyle in returned barely seemed to register his young apprentice yapping away like an annoying gnat and in turn Kenneth got the hint as he watched the Smith pull the blade out from the flames and turned to submerge the red blade in cold water. Quenched and finished as he struck the tang against his metal gauntlets around his large forearms. Pleased with how it turned out, evidently as the man placed the blade down on the anvil and began to walk towards the knight. Kenneth knew better than to follow, after all some of the Jacks should come back to pick up their gear, and there was a load of chain for the loggers too. "Okay, I'll um just mind the shop then. Can you fetch dinner for us? Hugo's been barking at me for the last hour, think he needs some food or something." Stupid boy, Hugo barked because of them.

Gargoyles. Like statues perched upon the rooftops. And with a look of bemusement, or rather only the faintest suggestion of a light-hearted chuckle, Gregory followed the Knight to his commanding officer, wearing his gauntlets and apron as his tail made a trail from his shop on the ground. It would be rude, and useless to fly when being escorted by the grounded knight. Although the presence of his brethren perhaps distant cousins was interesting, something must have had happened back in Stonecrest, else why else would there be so many of his kin here in a town of wood?

"Miss." Gregory arrived and addressed the female Lieutenant, keeping one eye on her and the other on the large Gargoyle before her.

The Silent Watch [Ebonfort]

Most excellent.

Blood Compact: Vampire Genocide

Vampires bled as well as any human.
Though clung to their claims of immortality,
They seemed to fear the possibility of being wrong.
So they feared not death, but being Mortal.
Weak, disposable, a waste of blood.
Who dares awaken the Red Dragon?

But to contact Bedivere was foolish. Dangerous even given his current activity in eliminating the world of lesser vampires. A human had tried to play with him once, and with a spectacular display of just how insignificant the human was in the grand scheme of his game, Bedivere brushed him off. Alive, having entered the Lion's Den, and left it unscathed. Though perhaps not without the knowledge of just who it was he dealt with as Bedivere's patsy committed suicide with a spoon, repeated stabbing himself without question or hesitation until the young vampire died. The old blood commanded obedience, for those who would not kneel shall die, those who fail to serve after they knelt, shall die. A small mercy to let a human live, but after the show it appeared the human never bothered to try to contact Bedivere again.

And this, message from a vampire. One which was routed to the remains of Bedivere's agents, and from there passed on to his superior, and finally passed on to the sire himself. Did these young bloodlings think that someone as old and archaic as Bedivere would have a cellphone on his person? No, this was done by the old ways. Not quite carrier pigeon, but a formal report by the standing agent as Bedivere returned to the Whispering Oak Tavern to converse with an Old Friend.

"And what do you think Merlin? I have waited long enough for Arthur, and so have you. We must learn to move on, and I have begun the process of removing the competition. The throne would suit me and I would uproot you to act as my advisor. Soon the world shall be as we envisioned. Eternal. Avalon. What is a few humans and vampires killed for the benefit of the future at stake? And though I have not seen Mithias for long, it pains me to keep him in the dark from these activities. He shall remain blameless of it all, innocent as the future songs shall tell of our tale. They had made you and I into legends, so too will they..." An interruption from his dialogue. Or rather perhaps monologue as he spoke to a giant Oak Tree in the middle of the Tavern. "What is it? Speak quickly."

"M'Lord, An Adam o’Neal is seeking your audience. His dossier sir- An Old blood, about two centuries your junior, CEO of the Yamada Corporation. Medical supplies Mogul. Sent a list of Recent events in his involvement, if I may sir, someone has been a naughty boy. Should we devote resources towards counter measures?"

"No, With my grip on the Isle loosening, we must maintain the efforts to regain lost sectors. Once Greater Britannia is ours, we can turn our attention to the lesser goals of other vampires. I shall deal with him personally, send a courtesy message in reply, with bottle of George. Now, do you not have more important work to do than to bother me with trivial affairs not related to the recapturing of the nation?"

Hawaii. For an old blood, he seemed to be rather lax. Perhaps later that evening they will have a little tete-a-tete. There was much work to be done, and it was only dusk in Wales. Meaning still noon in Hawaii. There was the loophole after all of night and day. For as long as Bedivere kept travelling with the nightfall, his powers could only grow...

Blood Compact: Vampire Genocide

How many plots do we even have :I

Blood Compact: Vampire Genocide

Hrm... what to do...

Blood Compact: Vampire Genocide

Why are all of my family members going on psychotic rampages? o.o

@Wraithblade6

Not sure. Maybe because all Vampires go insane after some time?

Blood Compact: Vampire Genocide

He's Back.

Blood Compact: Vampire Genocide

The First World Drowned.
The Second World Burns.
The Third shall Quake.
And Tremble at his heels.

Like the twitching maggot groveling beneath him. A pale body, dressed in an oriental robe, twitching like a decapitated snake. She was certainly an impressive sorceress in her life, but over the years, certainly mellowed out. Her golden yellow robes faded to tatters, her ceremonial hat crumpled above her faceless head. The Taoist scroll blocked her snarling visage, but not her hissing fury as she shrieked in the presence of her captor. A jiangshi, a vampire of a different nature from the East, who feasted upon the mystical "chi" of mankind. And this pathetic creature not just any jiangshi but the Queen of them, and a disgrace to her kind and kin. Her faded beauty wrapt in a dress of Qing, a Manchurian gown to which her screaming body was dressed in. One of the last of the Old bloods in the East, their influence in the east would die with her. As true with all vampires, cut the head and the rest would follow.

In the dark tunnels of the Imperial Palace, within the city of Beijing, the world above and world below were vastly different. The traditions beneath them, the world of spirits and ghosts, of old magic and superstition, still reflected above despite the modern hustle and bustle of the city streets. Triple overpasses running in concentric rings to mimic the layout of the ancient city. History abound in the corners within the confines of the high-rises. A mix of old and new, something which had vexed the Oldest of bloodkin. They were indeed relics, confined to their dark spaces, no longer feared but forgotten, powerful but meaningless. The results of the last war proved it to be so, and now in ten year's time, the humans had ended up miraculously on top once more. What was this world coming to? The vampires were clearly the superior beings, immortality within their grasp. Imagine if the chickens being butchered in the street market above suddenly began a rebellion. They had no right to and here in the land of KongFuzi, everything knew it's place.

"Save what honor you have left Dowager Empress and I shall grant you a swift death." His voice was calm and oddly soothing. Commanding authority with his lettered flags. They had cast him out, he broke their covenants and rules, yet he cared not for the regulations which he once respected and enforced. There was no need for fools to be protected by such amends, no reason for him not to cull the weak vampires who failed in the uprising. Failed him and his vision for a new world. They had resources and ambition, but in being put down by the humans, they proved themselves weak. Unfit to retain their unlives, and should be killed. He started with Magnus as the first, and certainly this Empress now before him would no be the last. Over the ten years of living in the shadows, falling out of contact with the rest, he had not simply bided his time. No the knight was busy, taking the lives of his former associates, all council members who were quite surprised to find that the staunchest of their group to be hunting them like dogs. Yet in secret he committed his actions, like a shadow to the vampires, far more effective than the best of vampire hunters. A kill count to top that of the Metal Man himself, for it was more effective to know where one's former allies were sleeping. Many more would fall in his path, those standing in his way, those unworthy of experiencing his wake, and those who simply failed to escape his ire. Yes, Bedivere now sought what he had long deserved but never claimed. The Throne.

"Goodbye Cixi." The blade came down and the pyre lit. The last echoing screams of the ancient matron gone up in a foul black smoke. When the fires died and smoke cleared, there stood the Lone Knight, clad not in his armor, but a business suit, crisp and clean. His cuffs certainly linked with gold and ruby crowns and his skinny black tie knotted with an intricate Fishbone. His white shoulder-length hair combed back straight behind him, as he appeared to be much younger than his previous appearance, far too young to be an imposing vampire lord. Yet his eyes would tell the story of a hardened warrior, a man of old traditions, of morality based on ability. A business man who plucked from the ashes of the queen, a large pearl to add to his collection before scratching out her name from his list and buttoning up his suit to leave.

"Now then. Who shall I find next?"