Aftermath

[grim137]

((closed, takes place after Escape From Radasanth (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?t=2063&page=2)))

The forest of Concordia usually provided solace for the vampire’s troubled mind. He used to enjoy hunting its creatures and living on its land, away from the rest of the mortals of Corone. In fact when the blind bloodsucker got deep enough into the forest, into areas where cowardly mortals feared to venture, things often became surreal for him and the unending darkness that had shrouded his mind for so long ceased to give him fear and insanity and instead brought him peace.

Yet in the past few days following the incidents in Radasanth, when he murdered several guards and civilians and wounded a countless number more, the forest had failed to bring him the same kind of peace it once did. In fact, lately it seemed that even in the deepest reaches of the forest, where only the beasts roamed, it only made Tarry restless and agitated.

He didn’t feel bad about killing those people, not by a long shot. After all he accepted the fact that he was no longer human and that they were no more than cattle to him. Yet something bothered him, stressed him to a point that he found himself constantly frustrated and angry. What made things worse for him was the fact that no matter what he did he couldn’t seem to get the feelings to leave him alone.

To make matters worse, Tarry had discovered that, much to his chagrin, the spirits in his sword had abandoned him. Though it pained him the vampire knew exactly why this had happened. By becoming a monster, and by murdering those he was supposed to protect, he had effectively abandoned the ancient ways of those spirits and thus they deserted him, likely never to return until somebody who didn’t kill whoever the hell they felt like killing possessed the ancient blade.

Such a thought hurt the vampire, causing an untold amount of shame and regret; feelings Tarry had long since thought he was above, especially when dealing with murdering such an expendable race as humans. It turned out there was still more of the human him left than he thought. He considered it lucky that a near lifetime of horrid acts and vile deeds had trained him to suppress such foolish thoughts and feelings. That way he wouldn’t be bothered with them, at least not when he could help it.

Following the events in Radasanth, after he had fled the city and its guards, Tarry had attempted to find the portal to Haidia so that he could leave Corone and go back to the his fellow bloodsuckers. Yet like his attempts to find peace in the forest so to had his attempts at finding the portal been in vain. Instead the blind predator merely got lost in the depth of the forest and lived by hunting the creatures that lived in it. It seemed the forest cared less about him than he had initially thought.

At least the guards had stopped coming, though such a fact surprised Tarry very little. He hadn’t really hurt anybody of major importance aside from perhaps a few low level guards. Most of the people who had been hurt or killed during Tarry’s little incident in Radasanth had been lower or middle class people, the kind with little money and even less power.

The upper class of Radasanth didn’t really give a rat’s ass about those people as long as they continued to work and make them rich. Tarry figured there were a few extra measures taken to make people feel safe and good about wasting their pathetic lives and money on over priced goods so that the rich could become richer and afford their second homes in Raiaera. A few extra guards on the streets and some slightly better equipment for the CAF and the masses would be happy and that little incident where a crazed vampire killed a few citizens would soon be forgotten.

[grim137]

When Tarry thought the Corone government had forgotten about him and that no more people would pursue him, he had been dead wrong. The people of Radasanth must have been very vengeful, either that or Tarry must have killed somebody that people actually cared about. He had been right in assuming not too many more guards would come, instead the nation of Corone did something else that was far more effective, they placed a bounty on the vampire’s head.

The bloodsucker had to admit it was a smart move on the part of whoever ran the place and it must have insured that plenty of citizens would kiss his or her ass for years to come. Bounty hunters were far more expendable than soldiers since the government invested virtually no money in them aside from the occasional bounty. They were also plentiful since every moron kid and their mother wanted to be some great and powerful hero that not only vanquished the bad guys but also made fortune doing it. Combined with the fact that people wanted vengeance for what was being dubbed as the Radasanth massacre, there was certainly no shortage in supplyof people with varying levels of equipment and ineptitude trying to slay the bloodsucker.

At first the vampire was contempt to merely kill them as they came along. The thick foliage of the forest made it easy to dispose of the pale, blood-drained corpses his pursers often left behind. What little chance there was of anybody really finding mutilated bodies that Tarry left deep in the forest among the thick underbrush was nullified usually in a day or two by the bugs and the beasts that liked to feed on the sweet flesh and meat before the bodies ever became too decomposed.

Yet as the days wore on, such a plan was quickly proving to be quite futile. They just kept coming at all manner of times of day and night. They ranged from morons who thought they could vanquish the deadly vampire with nothing more than a garlic necklace and a silver cross to people who actually new a little bit about fighting. Tarry was growing tired and fatigued thanks to the lack of sleep he was getting from the attacks and having to constantly look over his shoulder. Even with his vampiric regeneration he had still been hurt a bit and he was a little bit sore.

“This has to end. Come hell or high water this shit has to come to an end,” thought the vampire as he walked through the thick forest towards the same place he had fled not to long ago, the city of Radasanth.

[grim137]

A little over half a day a go, when Tarry had first started venturing fourth out from the depths of Concorida back to the city of Radasanth, it hadn’t occurred to him that he didn’t really know how to get the bounty removed from his head. As he walked through the forest at night, when the only light provided was by that of the few stars whose light penetrated the thick canopy up above, he continued to muse on these thoughts. It was a bit of an eye opener to realize that despite how long he’d been living on Althanas that he still didn’t know who ran things on one of the planet’s largest nations.

“Hello, what have we here?”

Tarry stopped as his spirit sense picked up several life forces, several human life forces. The blind vampire couldn’t help but chuckle a bit with amusement. He knew that the reasons mortals almost never traveled through the forest at night was because they feared what could happen to them with they did. To the twisted blood sucker the funny thing now was that they were about to suffer a horrible fate because they had chosen to set up camp at night instead of traveling. Oh well, at least now he was going to get some answers to a few of his more nagging questions.

“They should know better than to leave their guard down at night. Haven’t they heard the stories? There are monsters out in the forest this time of night,” thought the twisted vampire as he slowly drew his daggers and approached the camp.

As he approached the camp, the vampire took note of several things. The smell of ash from a burnt out campfire, the few metallic items (mostly mundane things though there were few pieces of weaponry and armor) that he could sense with his sixth sense, and of course the number of humans, their age and their gender.

“Three guys and two girls. The guys are likely vampire hunters. Two of them are in their early twenties, the other one in his mid thirties. The young ones are probably new at this; the older one is likely their mentor or something. The girls are probably maids, or nurses, or lovers or some other equally useless job. One is young not much older than seventeen, the other is in her early forties, probably her mother. I’ll leave the young girl alive the longest, she’ll be the least resistant to my questioning. The guys will have to die first since they’re the ones most likely to put up a fight. The older one will be the most experienced; he’ll be my first victim,” thought the crafty vampire as he laid out in his mind his plan of attack.

With the silence of a practiced predator Tarry snuck into the tarp where all five bodies slept. Wrapped tightly in their sleeping bags and with their minds firmly occupied by the sandman, the five mortals never noticed as the vampire stood over them with a dagger in each hand.

Tarry’s attack was ruthless, bloody, but most importantly, it was efficient. Quickly his daggers rained down into the throats of their victims. As soon as one dagger stabbed somebody, it was quickly and violently torn out of the victim’s neck and thrust into another one’s. It was in this method that Tarry killed four of the five people before any of them were able to scramble out of their sleeping bags, leaving only the scarred female left. The young teenage girl was left alive for only one reason, so that Tarry could interrogate her.

With an audible chuckle the vampire advanced towards the hysteric teenager. Tarry allowed the girl to scramble out of her sleeping bag, but that was as far as he intending on letting her go. As she tried to get up on her wobbly legs the bloodsucker’s foot pinned her back down. Tarry then leaned very closely to the girls face, he wanted to make sure she heard what she said.

“Listen, I have a few questions to ask you and you’re going to answer every single one of them. Do you understand?” As Tarry spoke he ran his dagger between her legs. He knew the humans on Althanas tended to be particularly stupid so he wanted to make sure she knew exactly what he meant.

[grim137]

By the time the sun rose up that morning the blind vampire exited the forest having gotten all the information he cared for out of the girl, and leaving her murdered and desecrated body behind for the vultures. Tarry actually felt a little bit guilty about torturing the girl the way he had, especially since the memory of her screams and agony were still fresh in his head and the subtle smell of blood was still on his hands. The bloodsucker simply did his best to ignore such feelings, reminding himself that she was simply cattle to him and that it had all been necessary anyways.

With one last effort to push those thoughts out of his mind Tarry made his was out of the edge of the forest and on to dirt road that lead to city of Radasanth. He estimated that he was about a day’s trek away from the edge of Radasanth, perhaps a bit less if he really hurried. Taking a moment to enjoy the feeling of direct sunlight on his skin, a feeling that was hard to get in the depths of the forest, the blind vampire head along the South Road.

Tarry had changed his appearance before leaving the forest. He had cut of most of his shaggy hair with his dagger, creating a crappy looking but nonetheless new haircut for himself. After disposing of the girl he had rummaged through the campsite and to see if he could find something to alter his appearance a bit. What he found that he liked was an oversized, filthy wool cloak that was baggy enough on him that it draped over his weapons and armor, hiding those things well when he wore it. For final measures he had removed the bandages from his eyes and kept his fangs retracted inside his skull. Most people who had witnessed the massacre would likely only recall the major details of his appearance anyways so he figured as long as he changed those he would be okay. Thus he didn’t worry about changing the more minute characteristics of his appearance.

The vampire moved a quickly though it was more of a fast walk than a jog. While the day was young the sun and the air felt good. However he knew that as the day approached noon it would become hot, very hot. Being particularly flammable, the intense heat often made the vampire uncomfortable so he wanted to do as much traveling as he could before it became overly hot out. Besides he wanted to avoid travelers even though most of them would likely be merchant vessels or adventurers traveling through or to the forest of Concordia with no threat to him, but still it paid to be a bit careful.

As he walked along the dirt road, he thought about the answers the girl had given him, going over the facts in his head. The bounty was disappointingly low, only 45 hundred gold pieces (he thought for sure it would be more). Had it not been for the fact that the bounty hunters probably wouldn’t stop coming, he wouldn’t have even bothered to waste his time trying to get it removed. Tarry had learned that the minister of justice, some female by the name of Marion Kereness was in charge of the bounty. The way the vampire figured it, the sooner she died the sooner the bounty would go away. It didn’t really cross his mind that killing her would actually raise the bounty on his head. Unfortunately the girl had been unable to tell him where the minister lived and even after torturing her a good bit the only tidbit of information he could get on that matter was that the minister probably lived in a high class neighborhood somewhere in the northern part of Radasanth. It didn’t really matter though, once he got to Radasanth Tarry was pretty sure that it wouldn’t be too much trouble finding his target.

[grim137]

The trek had taken longer than Tarry had thought, partially because he had actually stopped to sleep having not been able to get a good rest in some time. However the countryside of Radasanthia had been quite pleasant and the vampire actually felt kind of relaxed along the way, especially since he had not encountered a single living mortal (unless he were to count the sheep and cattle that he occasionally found roaming country side, likely not too far from some farmer).

The quick journey had been beneficial to the bloodsucker in numerous ways, most of which were miniscule at best and unimportant. The best thing that Tarry got out of the journey was a calmer more calculating mind than he had of late. The journey through the flat country side had allowed him some much needed time with perhaps the only part of him that was still slightly human, his thoughts. In addition to his usual musing about what Althanas looked like, what he would of imagined if he had been born blind instead of losing his sight in his early teens, and other random thoughts, he had also thought about what he was about to do and how he planned on doing it as well. He managed to remember things that he had forgotten about; most of which was from when he used to work for the necromancer Do’negh had often had to work in the black market, dealing with various crime organizations and criminals.

By the time Tarry had actually arrived at Radasanth some 28 hours after he had left the forest, the blind vampire actually had a plan in mind for the way he was going to go about things with a few back up options in case some of the various parts of it didn’t go over like he hoped. Of course that was why he generally kept his plans simple because the simpler they were the easier they were to pull off with out screwing up.

The blind killer stopped at the large steel gates of Radasanth briefly observing the structure. They were still open despite the fact that he was at large. He figured they would be though in the back of his mind he kind of hoped they would be closed. That would really boasted his ego had he been able to strike that kind of fear in the city’s people. However he did notice there were perhaps a few more guards than normal. Of course being cloaked as he was and having changed his appearance, the armed soldiers guarding the entrance to the great city merely gave him a passing glance before assuming he was just one of many wondering vagrants that inhabited Corone.

As Tarry entered the gates and started making his way through Radasanth, he could detect a slight increase in the number of guards. From what he could sense the guards seemed to have slightly better quality equipment though barely, likely just enough to make the citizens feel safe.

As the blind killer moved mostly unnoticed through the wide streets of the city, he could tell that he hadn’t had much of an effect on the city as he had really hoped. It was kind of a shame since to him causing such fear and panic had been kind of a turn on. Yet everything seemed normal aside from the better security on the streets. The citizens still moved through the hot, still air going to where ever it was they needed to be. He noticed the various familiar sights smells and sounds, both pleasant and unpleasant, of the city still filled the air.

“They probably just feel safe because Storm’s rotting in jail and they think I’m off in the forest somewhere. I wonder how these roaches would react if they realized I was walking among them right now,” thought the vampire laughing inwardly to himself.

Still he had a job he needed to do, and he figured it was best not draw attention to himself unless necessary. He was never much of an attention hog (in fact most of the time he liked to avoid it), and he hadn’t yet gone insane enough to turn stupid. So for now he restrained the urge to stroke his ego and cause some panic among the crowd. For now he just had to complete his mission.

[grim137]

It didn’t take long for Tarry to figure out where the minister lived because there were surprisingly few suitable places in Radasanth fit for somebody of that status. The one major place the vampire decided to check out was a well-known rich, high-class neighborhood, one of the most expensive places to live on Althanas. It was known as Elfin Garden’s because the place was originally founded a couple hundred years ago by an aristocratic high elf from Raiaera that had a penchant for botany. Rather or not this story was true or if it was just a story made up by the real estate agents to sell the over priced, multimillion gold pieced mansions that made up the place.

As Tarry walked along the fine gravel street, among the rows and rows of elegantly designed mansions, he got more than a few stares from the guards and any of the rich aristocrats that saw him. A place of such nobility was different from the rest of Radasanth in the fact that it wasn’t common to see a bum wondering the streets. Most of the time when such a person was wondering the streets of Elfin Gardens it meant that they were a thief or occasionally something much worse. Still, though the guards may have kept there eyes on him, as long as the vampire did nothing to make them see him as a threat then they would do nothing to him.

The blind vampire moved along the streets slowly, carefully observing each house with his various senses. Unfortunately he really had know idea where the minister lived and Tarry highly doubted that the guards would be willing to give that kind of information out to him. The bloodsucker thought briefly about kidnapping one of the guards and committing another interrogation but such a thing was likely more trouble than it was worth. Besides he had no way of knowing which of the numerous guards guarding the mansions had such information.

“Damnit,” muttered Tarry under his breath with a sigh as it dawned on him that he really had no way of figuring out exactly where Mrs. Kereness lived.

Feeling defeated for the moment, Tarry turned and walked away. He had no intention of returning to Elfin Gardens until there was a good reason to. However as he moved along the street along rows heavily guarded mansions the blind vampire couldn’t help but feel like he was missing some important detail, such as a mansion that’s somehow dramatically different from the others. The deadly bloodsucker stopped at the silver gates of what was both the entrance and the exit to place. For a moment he pondered rather or not he should act on those feelings and examine the place a few more times. Ultimately he decided against it. After all, he had other places he needed to go.

[grim137]

That night found Tarry in a very sour mood. The blind vampire sat bathed in the moonlight coming through the window of a dank and dirty tavern called Barrel of Monkeys. A filthy place filled to the brim with the worst kinds of human scum that could be found in Radasanth, making even the rest of the slums that surrounded the tavern seem like a safe place to be at night. The whole damned place absolutely reeked with filth and grime. The place was hardly well kept with numerous rats, roaches, and vomit, blood and urine stains on the floor, not to mention the mold and bacteria growing in the nooks and crannies of the walls and floors. Of course the worse than anything else in the god-forsaken tavern were the inhabitants who smelled worse than most of the vermin and seemed to be particularly stupid. The bloodsucker kept hearing such orders as beer on the rocks, and other such nonsense.

“Fucking primitives can’t even remember what’s in the very poison the pour down their throats. I could have sworn the RCS operated here but so far the only people here are a bunch of dip shits who are too drunk and too stupid to know what it is they’re drinking.”

The vampire was thinking back to his days when he worked for the necromancer Do’negh and often had to deal with underground activities (mostly trivial things such as collecting money from those who owed it to Tarry’s former master). Tarry remembered that the syndicate liked to operate in the slums because the guards were almost never present. Unfortunately his memory was a little too hazy in that area to remember any specifics such as how to get in contact with the RCS (Radasanth Crime Syndicate).

“Fuck it,” thought the frustrated vampire angrily.

He was tired of simply waiting. Tired of simply sitting in a filthy, rundown bar surrounded by a bunch of inferior morons who didn’t know the meaning of the word bath. Tarry had simply had enough. He simply couldn’t stand being around such filth so far beneath him. The filthy, moronic drunkards were making it far too tempting for the killer to cause another massacre.

With out even bothering to pay for his drink, a pint of watered down piss the bar tender called beer, the still-cloaked swordsman got up. The gruff old bartender seemed far to busy dealing with another customer that had didn’t know what was in his drink (Tarry heard the man order a mimosa with extra rum) to care that he was being cheated out of 5 gold pieces. Yet from the bartender's mouth came two words that stopped the murderer just as he was about to leave.

“…Marion Kereness…”

The words quickly caught Tarry’s ear causing the bloodsucker to stop in his tracks. Immediately the killer’s sharp ears seemed to perk up and he started to listen to what the bartender and his ‘customer’ had been pretty much finished with their conversation by the time the blind one had started eavesdropping on it so the only additional things the vampire heard was what sounded like the ruffling of paper and the bartender saying “this will take you to the meeting area”.

“Now I think I remember how it works.”

It was all starting to come back to him. Tarry remembered back to his days working for Do’negh and dealing with the RCS. There were contacts through out Corone that worked for the Radasanth Crime Syndicate. To do business with one of those contacts somebody had to say the proper phrase or word around them and the said contact would divulge the information accordingly. The calculating killer couldn’t help but chuckle a bit at his own ignorance. Most of those non-existing drinks he kept hearing the bar goers order were actually pass phrases.

“Mimosa, extra rum,” said the vampire as he made his way back to the bartender.

“Sorry, just sold out of those. Limited supply you know,” replied to the bartender coolly as they were actually talking about drinks.

The man’s response irked the vampire, making numerous violent ideas run through his mind, all of them involving the bartender who dared try to deny him. Still as tempting as it was Tarry resisted the urge to hurt the scrawny little bastard. “What if for some reason somebody didn’t want their drink? Would I be able to take it,” said Tarry with a slight smirk as he motioned towards the bartender’s previous ‘costumer’ with his head.

“I guess so,” responded the bartender. Clearly the man had dealt with enough psychopaths in his day to understand such business methods.

The vampire didn’t say another word instead he immediately went on the attack. Immediately the thick and heavy air of the bar was broken up as a ki blast from the back of Tarry’s hand smashed into the bartender’s old customer just a few feet behind the malicious monster. Laughing, the crazed killer got up and moved over to his now injured and confused but considerably more sober target. This was the kind of atmosphere he liked, the kind where nearly meat bag in the room was scared shitless of him. With every eye in that room on him, the vampire quickly finished the job. In one swift movement Tarry drew his sword and thrust down into the chest of his nearly dead victim, effectively finishing the job.

“Luckily the guards will never believe anything these drunken monkeys tell them, otherwise that little show might have put me in jeapordy, oh well,”

With his mood considerably lightened the psychotic bloodsucker made his way back over to the bar. “Now give me my mimosa, and don’t skimp on the rum.”

[grim137]

The next morning the sun rose to the beat of footsteps walking through a desolate hallway of an old grain mill. The sounds of the vampire’s boots echoed off the rusted metal walls and ceiling as he made his way slowly towards the end of the long hallway at the entrance. The entire placed smelled of cobweb and dust. The hot morning air seemed to stiffen in the area, mainly due to the fact that there were no vents, windows or any other way for the breeze to enter the building. It was actually quite uncomfortable for a creature like Tarry whose flesh and blood were particularly flammable.

Flanking the blind vampire on either side were two large guards. Examining them with his spirit sense, Tarry could tell they weren’t much of a threat. They were simply the stereotypical oversized meatheads that were strong as an ox but often about as smart as a tree. A quick scan with his sixth sense also revealed that they were armed with nothing more than a simple steel chest plate and a steel battle axe each. They were there for one reason, if Tarry or anybody else currently in the mill (except their boss) did anything funny, they were kill them and get rid of the body.

After only a few moments of walking Tarry and his company made their way through a small door at the end of the hallway that lead to a much larger room. The room was several stories high and contained numerous tools and machines that had long since stopped working. In addition to the smells of cobweb and dust there were also other smells here, strong ones of old flower, rock dust, and a bit of saw dust. More important of than those smells was one particular smell the permeated strongly through out the room, the smell of human.

Just a few feet to Tarry’s left there were about half a dozen other peopled gathered, one of which was clearly the center of attention. Most of the other people were nothing special; a bunch of ruffians, murderers and muscles for hire who had ordered a mimosa with extra rum at the same bar as Tarry. They ranged in size and stature and had a variety of shoddily made weapons from long swords and axes to poorly made crossbows. The blind vampire figured these were exactly the kind of people the syndicate liked to attract, a bunch of morally ambiguous morons who could very easily be manipulated.

Of course not all of them were like that, or more specifically one of them wasn’t like that. No, the man at the center of all the attention seemed to stand out from the miscreants that surrounded him. He was dressed in nice cloths, actually smelled like he had taken a bath sometime in the last month and carried with him a flint lock musket, a weapon nobody that lived in the slums would ever be able to afford in their wildest dreams.

“That must be a guy from the RCS. Must be a high ranking member to be able to get his hands on a weapon like that.”

“You there, get over here and take off that damn cloak. I need to see the face of the people helping on this mission to know I can trust them!” commanded the rich man before Tarry could even make another thought, confirming the process that he was the one working for the RCS directly and therefore leading the whole ordeal.

As much as it hurt his pride to take orders from somebody of an inferior race, the blind vampire forced himself to obey, reminding himself that he had to keep these guys on his side (at least temporarily) to get at the minister. With out a word Tarry obeyed the man’s command, first walking over the to the rest of the group and then removing his cloak.

Apparently Tarry’s appearance was recognizable because as soon as the cloak was off one of the illiterate neanderthals beside him immediately said “Hey, your that vampire everybody wants, the one on the wanted posters. Boy what I could do with that kind of money.”

The comments immediately sent the vampire’s hand to the hilt of his weapon as a few of the men became caught in the sudden moment and drew there own. Yet the impending fight was quickly halted with the sound of a musket cocking. The unnamed leader had quickly drawn his weapon and aimed it in the direction of the vampire and the ruffians who had drawn their weapons.

“Enough, all of you holster you weapons! I don’t give a fuck whose got what kind of bounty on his head! I’ve got a mission and its my job to make sure all you idiots complete it!” commanded the leader. The other men then proceeded to prove that Tarry had under estimated their intelligence by making the connection in their minds between not obeying the command and getting shot in the face. Even the vampire himself was a bit startled by the outburst and thus took his hand off his weapon.

Once everybody had their weapons holstered, the leader of the whole thing continued talking. “Now that that’s settled lets get down to business. As some of you may know, slave trading is a very lucrative business for us but it seems that lately the government has been trying to eliminate this business by enforcing laws and carefully monitoring well-known trade routes. Up until now this has never been a big issue as there efforts have been a little futile but recently one of our men working in the higher levels of the government has learned of some very disturbing news. It seems that the minister of justice, Marion Kereness, is on her way to Akashima to meet with delegates there. The purpose of her business is to pass an act that will cause a large amount of troops from both Radasanth and Akashima to patrol the various paths through the Comb Mountains to stop transportation of any illegal goods through those routes including slaves. This act has already been written up and the only thing that needs to happen for the act to be put into action is the delegates from Akashima need to sign it. We simply cannot let this happen. What we’re going to do is intercept the minister on her way to Akashima. Resources tell us that she will be traveling in a horse drawn carriage escorted by numerous armed soldiers on horses, including at least one ranger. What we need to do is destroy that act. However we are not to harm the minister under any circumstances, we can’t risk having that kind of heat coming down one us. None of you need to know my name so during this mission simply reefer to me as Leader. We will in leave in about an hour so be sure you're ready.”

And with that the meeting was dispersed, leaving Tarry with a big smile on his face. A few guards and a bit of time were all that stood between him and his target now. Things were finally starting to go his way.

[grim137]

As the day hit high noon in Corone, the cool breeze had long since died. The sun’s heat, no longer hindered by the breeze, scorched the dry rocky land of the Comb Mountains with an unrelenting fury. The dry air posed no threat to it, nor did any of the figures below, waiting and hiding in the various crevices and slender paths along either side of the one large pathway through the mountains to Akashima. The hot, dry air sapped moisture out of everything. It made the ground to hot to walk on with bare feet, and it caused metal armor to heat up uncomfortably.

As the heat waves rose up from the ground, visibly shimmering along the flat road, the increasingly impatient men below began to become frustrated and angry. They were sick of waiting. They were sick of standing around in uncomfortable positions being cooked alive by their own armor. They wanted to leave, to find shade, to get a cool drink. Above all they wanted to get away from the unrelenting heat that was barring down on them with a force that would make any demon in Haidia sweat.

“Where the hell is that bitch, you said she would be here over an hour ago!” barked Tarry to the self proclaimed ‘leader’. The vampire was growing increasingly agitated, he hated the heat because it burned his flesh and reminded him that his immortality had some very strict limits. To ease his discomfort he had discarded his cloak figuring that it didn’t matter that he stayed hidden any longer (it didn’t help).

“She was supposed to, and she will be here soon! Now shut up and wait you lousy bloodsucker!” responded the leader who was just as agitated as his disgruntled men. In fact he was probably losing his patients the fastest of all since Tarry hadn’t been the first to complain, not by a long shot.

The heavy sound of horses and carriage wheels on the rocky, uneven ground in the distance stopped further bickering and a potential mutiny. As the sounds grew louder the every member of the illicit group, including Tarry and the leader, quickly scrambled for cover to stay out of the guard’s sight. Large boulders, natural ditches, shallow caves, the men scrambled for anything they could hide in or behind. Some were able to find effective hiding spots, others not so much but it didn’t matter much. In someway or another all six men and Tarry were hidden in some form or fashion.

Of course the minister’s guards had an advantage that the leader obviously hadn’t counted on. They were much better trained, and far more disciplined and observant than the majority of the ragtag bunch of criminals that the leader had assembled. As the horse drawn carriage, flanked by two armed guards on horse back on the sides, one in the back and the ranger out in front, came into view the ranger said something to on of his guards and pointed to the side of the mountain opposite of the side Tarry was on. It didn’t take long to figure out exactly what the ranger had said because the guard immediately responded by firing a crossbow bolt where the ranger had pointed to and Tarry felt the life force of one the leader’s men fade out of existence. Immediately after that all guards drew there weapons and moved as close to the carriage as they could while facing the mountain. It seemed they had been spotted before they could even start the ambush.

“They’ve spotted us! Move!” yelled the vampire to the rest of his companions.

The men acted quickly, jumping out from their hiding spots and moving quickly down the side of the mountain towards the carriage, drawing their weapons as they surged forward. The guards themselves readied their shields and swords as the ranger road out ahead a bit so as to see the action more clearly and give commands more effectively. Most of the men rushed towards the guards, hoping to take them by surprise apparently. It was a stupid plan and one Tarry didn’t exactly plan to follow.

Two loud musket shots rang through the air, echoing off the mountainsides and one of the guards fell dead with two large holes in his chest and armor. It was those two shots that marked the official beginning of the battle.

[grim137]

Unlike his more violent and far more stupid companions Tarry wasn’t interested in fighting the guards. While he loved a little bloodshed here and there he had a job to do that he was very intent on doing. Once he finished with his job there would be time for pleasantries such as murdering the guards and possibly his ‘companions’.

The blind vampire moved quickly, doing his best to ignore the intense, strength sapping heat. While all the other morons he was working with attacked the front and the sides, he moved in towards the back hopping to get a shot at the minister before anybody really noticed.

The soldier ridding on horseback that stood between Tarry and his target stood little chance against the more powerful vampire. The bloodsucker’s attack was swift and brutal. A quick blast from Tarry’s hands well before the killer ever came with in range of the guard’s halberd and one of the horse’s legs exploded at that knee causing the beast to fall with its rider. With the guard down and injured the blind vampire rushed in upon him, quickly removing his helmet to expose the tender flesh and bone of his throat and skull. A quick stab through the side of the face later and the guard was dead with his blood dripping on his murderer’s sword.

There was now nothing standing between the blood lusted vampire and his target. Quickly he tore open the velvet covering on the wagon entering it to the wonderfully terrified scream of the minister. The vampire moved quickly towards her, holstering his sword and drawing a dagger instead. Unfortunately Tarry forgot to count on one thing, the fact that his allies were poorly armed, and had little training where as the guards were well armed, armored and trained. This fact became clear as the minister’s terrorized scream alerted the ranger who preceded to burry a steel throwing knife into the vampire’s leg.

The pain from the attack was enough to halt Tarry’s attack long enough for his target to stumble out of the carriage and into the protection of the ranger and the two surviving guards (Tarry’s allies had actually managed to take down one more guard). Cussing loudly, the vampire pulled the knife out of his leg as he rolled out of the cramped space of the carriage. He had been hoping to simply kill the women and get away with out having to deal with many of the guards but it didn’t look like that was going to happen.

“Shit, this isn’t good.”

Like most wounds, the one caused by the knife wasn’t fatal to the bloodsucking immortal by any stretch of the imagination. However, it would be several minutes at least before his regeneration healed the knife wound and until then it hurt like hell to simply move the leg. Plus it wasn’t like the guards were about to show him any mercy, not after how many he had murdered. For Tarry things definitely weren’t looking good.

The guards and the ranger were staying close to the minister instead of taking the initiative and attacking the vampire. Tarry figured this was simply because they didn’t want to risk him getting away from them to attack her. Either that or they were waiting a moment to see if the bloodsucker was wounded enough that they could safely capture him alive for capture, torture and interrogation (after being attacked by him and people working for RCS, the blind vampire figured the guards were bound to have a few questions). Of course the remorseless killer had no plans to allow any of that to happen.

The familiar spirit energy once again began to flow through Tarry’s body. It would only be a few seconds before it began to gather in the vampire’s hands. From there it was easy to turn the beautiful blue energy into a devastating force of destruction. The powerful beam ripped through the air with great force smashing into the nearest guard. The resulting explosion sent him flying off his horse, which had also been seriously injured by the explosion. The hard fall combined with the damaging blast easily spelled the end of the guard’s life.

“Two left.”

Slowly Tarry rose from his knees into a standing position. That last move, combined with the heat of the day and the injury in his leg were all beginning to take a large toll on him, even with his enhanced physical abilities. If it wasn’t for the vulnerable minister both of her remaining protectors could have attacked the blind vampire and ended the fight right then but they didn’t for precisely the same reason they had let him gain the initiative. They knew that if the bloodsucker slipped by them, then he would have an open shot right at the very person they had sworn to protect. It was such as misplaced sense of honor and duty that would become their downfall.

Once again only one person attacked Tarry at a time and predictably it was the guard, not the ranger. The guard remained on horseback again, charging at the vampire with full speed. Tarry once again tried to take out the guard with a blast but the armor clad law enforcer seemed to have learned from the mistakes of his fallen companion. The guard quickly brought up his shield for defense and tightened his grip on the reigns of his horse to avoid getting knocked down by the force of the blast. Still the blast was not completely hopeless, as it had startled the horse and rider enough that the soldier actually veered the animal a bit to the left preventing the injured vampire from getting completely trampled by the animal.

As the horse passed by the vampire once again went on the attack. Drawing one his daggers, he quickly turned as the horse passed by him, slicing one of the animal’s rear legs just above the foot. This caused the animal to scream in pain in that odd way that horses do before tumbling over rider and all. On the way down the rider landed in a weird way, breaking his neck. The man wasn’t dead but close enough to it as far as Tarry was concerned.

“One left.”

All that remained was the ranger who now had the daunting task of protecting both himself and the minister from the vicious monster that had murdered three of his men. For Tarry this was perfect. The soldiers were trained to defend their targets at all costs, including their lives and since the ranger’s death would mean there was no hope of the minister surviving, it was a win-win situation for the devious bloodsucker.

Unfortunately for the murderer the Ranger seemed to realize this and wasted no time in attacking the fanged creature. The blind vampire’s enhanced reflexes gave him an advantage as did his speed enabling him to quickly block the powerful attack from the ranger’s damascus long sword. There was a definite sense of desperation in the ranger’s attacks. Unfortunately he was still only human, so as well trained and well honed as his body was he could simply could not over power the stronger vampire, no matter how much force he had managed to put into such an attack.

The powerful bloodsucker quickly parried the attack and kicked the law enforcer with a powerful sweeping kick, effectively causing the armored man to lose his balance long for Tarry to get back to his feet. Tarry wasn’t nearly as strong as he had been when things had started. The blood loss and the pain from the large wound in his leg was taking its toll and making him tired. This thing with the ranger would have to end quickly if the vampire wanted to survive.

By the time Tarry had gotten up (his speed in doing so had been greatly hindered by his injured leg). Once again the desperate ranger rushed forward hoping to finish the fanged murderer quickly but unfortunately for him his desperation did something very bad for him. With such desperation the ranger’s skill was hindered, and his technique was sloppy making his attacks easier to counter and more importantly it made him easier to kill.

The armed protector of the law charged again this time launching a quick, hard sword thrust at Tarry’s throat. The quicker vampire easily countered the fairly predictable attack with his double-edged tungsten blade. Following the parry the merciless killer quickly moved in with a sword thrust of his own which sent his blade into the ranger’s throat.

“That’s all of them. Now the bitch finally dies.”

With out her guards to defend her, the terrified minister of justice did make one last attempt to save her life. She ran, as fast and as hard as her elegant, expensive and slightly over sized dress would allow her. Of course her attempts were quickly thwarted with a quick ki blast to the legs. The limping bloodsucker made his way over to his injured and fear stricken target with a devious laugh. As he sank his fangs into her throat her horrified screams echoed throughout the Comb Mountains, unheard by any living creature that could possibly help.

About thirty seconds later, the deed was done and the pale, drained body of the minister of justice, Marion Kereness, laid motionless in her killer’s hands, a look of horror forever engraved on her face. Tarry threw the body to the ground like it was nothing more than a rag doll before slowly walking away back towards Radasanth. He failed to realize that one of the guards was still alive.

[grim137]

Later that day, as the sun began to dip into the dawn causing the heat to slowly give way to the air and causing the sky to become painted in numerous shades of yellow and orange, several figures descended upon the former battlefield. Of course of these figures only three (who were all on horseback) of them were important. Adorned in fancy, oriental looking robes were two males and one female. The two males, Donovan Menarche and Zulus Damien, carried two silver katanas at their side. Both blades were strictly ornamental, hence their fancy designs, and hardly fit for actually combat. The female, Ashrima Veranache, had a white painted face and wore several pieces of fine gold and silver jewelry, the most defining pieces being to large earrings and an ornate, ruby study necklace. These three were the delegates of Akashima.

The other figures were guards. Most of them wore full suits steel plate armor that had the symbol of Akashima engraved in it. All of the guards were well armed with a fully loaded autobow, a weapon Akashima was known for, and all of them carried a steel long sword. The one exception was the guard captain who wore a more extravagant looking suit of damascus and a finely crafted delyn halberd.

They had received a message via carrier pigeon earlier that day saying that Marion Kereness was going to about an hour or so late due to unexpected difficulties that had not been elaborated on in the message. Yet when several hours had passed and still no word from Radasanth’s minister of justice the delegates of Akashima had grown worried and decided to go see what was wrong, after obtaining the properly armed escorts of course.

The sight that greeted them after they had found the minister’s chariot was a ghastly one to say the least. Bodies of both man and horse were strewn across the area. The men belonged both to the Radasanth guard and the Radasanth Crime Syndicate. The thick smell of blood and death was thick in the air, making it hard for the delegates to keep their last meal down in their stomachs. For the pampered Akashiman who had never seen the grisly sight of a battle field first hand such a gruesome scene was a lot more than they could handle.

Immediately, with but a hand signal from the captain, the guards readied their weapons and began to search the area. They were checking for survivors as well as making sure that whatever had caused the carnage wasn’t still around. The guard captain stayed behind for precisely the latter reason. He couldn’t risk the chance of the three delegates being attacked, incase the murderer of those dead was still around.

It didn’t take long for the soldiers to finish their search, and soon one of them walked over to the captain. “Sir, the area has been fully searched,” said the young soldier with a salute to his superior officer.

“Report.”

“There are twelve dead in all sir, though only about half of those are from the Radasanth guard, we don’t know who the other half is sir. It is sad to report but the minister of justice was among those dead. We found this on her person,” responded the guard as he handed his captain a sheet of paper.

The captain looked over the sheet of paper briefly before turning and handing it to Mrs. Veranache who again looked over it briefly. The paper was torn, the ink was slightly smudged and the whole thing was covered in dirt. The female delegate could tell that it was the declaration Marion was supposed to bring but it was now unreadable. There was no way the delegates could sign it. As Ashrima looked over that paper the guard and his captain continued their conversation.

“Very good, any survivors?”

“Only one sir; one of the soldiers from Radasanth. He is unconscious and from what we could tell he has a broken neck, but he is alive nonetheless.”

“And what of the monster that did all this.”

“No sign of it sir. What ever did this has vanished.”

“Very well. You and the rest of the men grab the survivor, be careful not to agitate any of his wounds any further. We shall take him back to Akashima. Our healers should be able to fix him up and hopefully he can tell us what happened here.”

“Yes sir,” saluted the soldier before relaying the captain’s orders the rest of the group. Before long every man in the company was carefully carrying the unconscious soldier.

“We should go, once we get our information, I’ll have one of my messengers give word to the government of Radasanth about what happened.”

The delegates, though technically in charge, knew that the guard captain was far more knowledgeable in such a situation. Thus they obeyed him with out a word of protest and slowly the group, which now had an unconscious Radasanth guard with it made its way back through the Comb Mountains to Akashima.

[grim137]

The early the next morning the sun rose to the beat of horse hooves against the gravel roads of Radasanth. Clad in light armor; nothing more than a steel studded leather vest with the emblem of Akashima on it and a steel chain mail helm that didn’t cover his face, and armed with nothing more than a short sword the messenger from Akashima rode quickly through the streets on his slender white horse. With great speed he charged on towards the capital building of Radasanth where all the high-ranking government officials did business. His message was urgent and would undoubtedly cause a lot of attention.

When he arrived, the young messenger was stopped at the door by the guards. This was unsurprising. It wasn’t often that an armed messenger from Akashima came riding full speed straight for the capital building of Radasanth. In fact the swift rider was a little surprised the city’s guards had not stopped him sooner.

“State your business!” commanded one of the guards as both of them put their hands on the long swords at their waists.

“There is no need to draw your weapons,” responded the messenger “I come bearing an urgent message from the Akashiman Royal Guard and I wish to speak with your city’s ministers right away.”

There was some hesitation from the guards as they thought about what had just been said to them. After a brief silence one of the guards responded. “Alright, follow me, but leave your weapon with my companion here.”

The Akashiman messenger was happy to oblige. He handed his weapon to one guard before following the other one into the marble building. As he was led down a long hallway adorned with fancy paintings and occasionally a small brass statue of old government officials. The messenger couldn’t help but admire the fine architecture of the city. The elves, humans and dwarves who had originally helped build the city had certainly outdone themselves with this particular building.

Before long the hallway came to an end with a set of large, redwood, double doors. The guard quickly opened the doors and led the messenger into a large, well furnished room that had a large finely made table that was surrounded with exquisitely made leather chairs. Inside the room were two more guards at the doorway and the seven ministers of Radasanth who were all sitting around the table. It was apparent from the looks that some of them were giving the messenger and his armed escort that some sort of meeting or other such business had just been interrupted.

“Pardon me but this messenger from Akashima says that he has an urgent message for you all from the Akashiman royal guard.”

With the guards apology the messenger stepped forward a bit. He quickly bowed politely to the ministers before giving his message. “My sincerest apologies for interrupting your business but I have a message that simply cannot wait. It seems your minister of justice along with most of her escorts and were all found dead yesterday on the trail through the Comb Mountains to Akashima. It was apparent that it was the result of a very brutal murder,” ignoring the shocked gasps that filled the room the messenger continued, “one of the ministers guards survived though he was in very critical condition. Our healers managed to restore him to health and we managed to convince him to tell us what he could about what exactly happened. Apparently several members of the RCS as well as a blind vampire attacked the minister and her escort, though their reasons for doing so were never discovered. The guards had been able to handle the RCS but the vampire was too much. It was the monster that ended the minister’s life.”

There was a solemn silence before one of the ministers, the minister of defense and security, spoke up. “This is grave news in deed. Thank you for the message, now please leave. Me and my fellow ministers have much to discuss.”

Once the messenger was gone the ministers began discussing what to do about Marion’s untimely demise. “We can’t let this information get out to the rest of the city. It would cause a panic.”

“Agreed, but this thing with Tarry Whealer has become a matter that we can’t trust with regular bounty hunters anymore.”

“What should we do then?”

“We should probably remove the bounty on Tarry’s head.”

“What!? You can’t be serious.”

“If we remove the bounty it will allow us to deal with the situation with out getting any civilians involved and it will allow our government to deal with the situation accordingly.”

“Agreed, but then we would have to explain why the bounty was removed.”

“Simple, we’ll simply say somebody claimed it and that will be that. Now who should we have deal with the vampire, it has to be somebody who can do the job and make sure the details stay secret.”

“Step.”

“Do you think this has gotten to the point that they need to get involved?”

“Yes I do. This monster has already proven to be far more dangerous than anything our regular armed forces can handle and besides Step agents are very good at keeping secrets.”

There was a loud sigh, “so be it, we’ll contact Step.”

[Izvilvin]

Corone was supposed to be a vacation, but only a day into his visit was Izvilvin contacted and delivered a letter. The writing, the emblem on the envelope, the to-the-point language were all unmistakable.

He abandoned his plans to sail along the coast and strapped his weapons on. The letter gave the bare minimum of details, but since finding out about the mission a few hours ago, Izvilvin had learned quite a bit about Tarry Whealer. The vampire had a bit of a reputation in Radasanth, especially over these last few days, so learning about him hadn't been all too difficult. Izvilvin only needed the simplest details, so the language barrier was not a huge issue.

The more he learned, the more worried he became. A vampire, as far as he knew, was a formidable foe, and Izvilvin knew just how much one needed to turn up his game when a sense was missing. A blind vampire was likely so attuned to his surroundings that he was impossible to sneak up on.

Not only that, but the killer had drained at least one victim of blood. The thought made Izvilvin cringe, which was a rare feat. As far as he'd always known, vampires were things of myth and had never been proven to be true. He wasn't looking forward to meeting this Tarry, but he was looking forward to killing him.

The Drow was at the apex of a hill just off the city's western wall, gazing out toward Concordia, which seemed to stretch eternally over the horizon. He didn't know which direction Tarry lay in, whether it was across the forest or over the Comb mountains, but Izvilvin intended to find out before the day was up.

His horse blew a tired wheeze, so he ran his ebony fingers through it's equally black mane, then directed the creature down the hill again. There was work to be done.

[Izvilvin]

Izvilvin was never fond of Radasanth. As much as he enjoyed the contrast of the city to Irrakam, where the streets were quieter and most people looked alike, Radasanth was a bit too loud and a bit too open to whom was allowed within. Everywhere he looked, Izvilvin spotted a thief or a murderer, as obvious to his eyes as was the color of a man’s skin. Why this land was so lenient, he didn’t know, but it made him rather uneasy.

And if things weren’t this way, would Tarry Whealer have gone on the rampage he had? Surely such a thing couldn’t have happened on Irrakam, where the leaders were more concerned with what folk were allowed into their land. Then again, Izvilvin had never legally entered the Keep until he was made a permanent resident there.

He and his horse made their way through waves of folk, many of which stopped to openly stare at him. Some made an effort to disguise their interest, but Izvilvin saw through them easily. Beyond the bazaar and the leagues of people, there was a lone house that he could see, where within there dwelled a fortuneless man who seemed to know was known to know each shady character who passed through. Izvilvin set it as his goal.

The home was a shack more than a house, with dilapidated wooden shutters and broken glass windows. The appearance told him it was abandoned, but Izvilvin could hear faint sounds from within, his sharp ears picking up shuffling steps and something else he couldn’t distinguish.

He dismounted his horse and left it there to wait for him. The shack was down a small dirt road which displayed similar buildings on either side. He mounted a pair of wide wooden steps and crossed the porch, his hand gripping the doorknob, a dull brass sphere that was oily to his touch, and turning it.

Izvilvin’s ears didn’t detect the shuffle anymore. The human knew he’d arrived.

He shuffled slowly down the main hall, eyes glowing in the dark shadows of the home. The wood looked black as charcoal, as if the shack had been burned some time ago. Izvilvin could almost taste the old smell of rotting meat.

The Drow heard the man coming long before he saw him. It was impossible for one to sneak up on the battle-forged warrior in a place with such a hard floor. He spun and caught the miser’s iron knuckled fist before it could slam into his white crowned hair. Swiftly, Izvilvin’s foot flew out and caught the human square in the chest, driving him to the floor and across the room.

He was upon the human before he could even flinch, a heavy boot pressed under the wrinkled chin of the miser. “Tarry Whealer,” Izvilvin said, doing his best to pronounce the name properly.

The human was old and frail, with iron sheets over his knuckles that he was able to slide off if he wished. It amazed Izvilvin to think that the man felt protected by such simple weapons.

The thrashing man couldn’t answer, so the Drow took his boot off of his throat. They looked at each other for a moment before the human struggled to his feet, clearing his throat awkwardly.

It was time for a brief chat.

[Izvilvin]

It was midday by the time Izvilvin’s black steed carried him into a clearing deep in Concordia. The road had twisted and turned the whole way. Toward the end of the journey he’d begun to think the old man had misled him. Eventually, though, the Drow’s powerful eyes saw through the trees and picked out a small shack through the foliage.

The midnight mount trotted slowly through the treeline and into a shallow stream that ran through the clearing. The water was slow and ran around the horse’s hooves, then Izvilvin’s feet. His belt felt unusually heavy at the moment he landed, but he tried not to think about it. He could hear the water as if it was roaring by, though it was just his nerves ruining his focus. It had been a long time since he’d been ordered to kill something, monster or not.

Sunlight blasted from above, coating the brown shack, the trees, the short grass and the dirt. Izvilvin focused on everything around him. Suddenly the water seemed quieter, and everything else much louder. He could hear the birds above, the subtle shifting of dirt as his feet moved, the flaps of his shirt in the breeze. The clearing was small, with boulders that had broken off from the face of a short cliff strewn about the place. More importantly, Tarry was supposed to be there.

He strolled toward the door of the shack, but stopped a few feet short. Izvilvin had made no attempt to conceal the sounds of his movement, unsure of Tarry’s hearing capabilities. If his hearing was anything like Izvilvin’s own, he’d have heard him long ago.

“Dos inbal xunor z'lonzic!” he called aloud, his voice sharp and demanding, like the boom of a thundercloud. Izvilvin drew Icicle and held it confidently, a diamond dagger finding home in his other hand. “No more!”

He heard his horse trot out of the stream and onto dry land, but didn’t turn to watch. Icicle’s handle felt cold in his hand, strange considering it was unaffected by the blade’s icy enchantment. It was his nerves, he knew.

Izvilvin gripped his weapons hard. His palms were sweating.

((Your turn!))

[grim137]

Tarry’s plan had only half worked. Killing the minister had gotten rid of the bounty on his head and the bounty hunters had stopped coming, allowing him to get a moment of piece yet he could easily tell something was up. Not only had the news of the minister’s death not reached the people but the government had started telling people that somebody had actually managed to kill him and thus claimed the bounty on his head. Of course the professional killer knew exactly what that meant, he had worked as an agent for the government before he came to Althanas, it meant the government was covering up the minister’s death and they likely had somebody much worse than some common bounty hunter after him.

At first the murderous vampire didn’t care. He didn’t exactly start prancing around the streets but he didn’t try to hard to hide either. Of course his paranoia eventually started to get to him. Eventually his paranoia got the point where every time somebody walked by him his deadly body tensed up because he expected a sudden attack. Soon every conversation between strangers in every shady bar became a potential plan about how those involved were going to assassinate the bloodsucker in the name of Corone. More than a few bums on the streets had died because the paranoid murderer had thought they were an assassin.

Eventually Tarry got sick of being constantly nervous and jumpy not to mention not being able to sleep at night for fear of receiving a dagger through his heart while he did so. Thus he decided to seek out solace, and he found it in the form of a shady old innkeeper who happened to own a nice little shed in the middle of Concordia. Given the rumors and myths about vampires among humans, it wasn’t hard for the crazed bloodsucker to convince the moronic little man to give him the shed as well as a promise to keep his whereabouts a secret. All Tarry had to do was promise him immortal life in return (of course the blind killer had no intention of keeping it).

It helped, though barely. Even deep in the forest the vampire could not completely contain his paranoia. Sure he was no longer drawing his weapon every time he heard a squirrel or a rabit ruffle the leaves, yet he was still constantly uneasy, constantly vigilant, and constantly armed.

It got to the point that when the slimy little bastard of a man finally sold him out that it was a relief. It was a relief when the vampire’s extra senses picked up a heavily armed drow on horseback coming straight towards his home. It was all a relief because now the remorseless killer knew who was coming for him.

That day there was no wind, nor animals anywhere near the vampire’s new home. Mother nature knew what was about to happen, after she knew a thing or two about life and death, predator and prey. She wanted to protect her creatures from the carnage that was about to unfold in that quite little area of the forest.

As the blind vampire moved directly behind his door as his hands cupped together. A deadly energy began to flow through the body parts and the calm, still air around his hands burst to life as a the flow of ki energy increased. Soon his hands began to glow blue, then they began to cackle, sizzle and pop, until finally the energy burst to life, gathering itself in his palms.

With a slight laugh the crazed psychopath put his cupped hands against his door. When it became apparent that Corone’s little errand boy, the dark skinned assassin, wasn’t going to come any closer the vampire simply released his energy. The flimsy ply wood door stood no chance as the powerful beam of energy ripped through it like paper and sped onwards towards the drow.

The battle had begun, and in the field that hot still day, a battle had begun and either drow or vampire was going to die.

[Izvilvin]

Izvilvin’s eyes went from the door to a nearby window, a dirty pane that revealed nothing of the room beyond it. He could hear a crackling like sizzling meat, but wasn’t sure if it was coming from beyond the door or beyond the cabin itself. He quickly found out.

The door buckled before his eyes, exploding into a million splinters as something blue and powerful struck him. He felt Icicle and his diamond dagger leave his hands, felt the breath rush from his body, and felt himself hit the ground a few feet away from where the stairs that led up the porch ended. He skidded for a half second and stopped, feeling a hollow burn in his chest.

It seemed very quiet then, but Izvilvin knew that he was alright. The Drow rose slowly, his black shirt ripped away from his chest. He could small baked flesh as the smell wafted upward, but it didn’t harm him enough to be very dangerous.

The vampire met the description, Izvilvin saw, his eyes darting over the creature’s being. He looked like death, like a specter, yet he was as humanoid as Izvilvin himself. The Drow reached to the small of his back and produced a sai in each hand. He said nothing.

It was odd to be facing off with a creature whose eyes were covered, but Izvilvin knew the beast had some transcendral powers. He’d need to watch himself, to not leave any openings – not that he ever did.

He wound up and threw one of the pronged weapons, somewhat of a test, and another was in his empty hand to replace it. The weapon soared true, set to bury itself deep in Tarry’s chest. The agile Drow was behind it, rushing to meet the creature in melee combat before it could throw another beam.

[grim137]

“He survived, not overly surprising, though that blast should have done a bit more damage. Guess those idiots running the government finally decided to take me seriously.”

Tarry probably should have taken the fact that the drow had survived a near direct hit from his most powerful attack as a sign of the assassin's power. Still the combination of semi-insanity and his own natural arrogance prevented him from making such a wise decision. Instead he simply assumed the assassin had a mild magical resistance and that the flimsy ply wood door had softened the majority of the blast (both of which were actually true to a point).

Still cocky as he was, and even though he had mostly lost his mind, the predator had not lost all those well honed, harshly seasoned killer instincts of his. He still remembered his battles with Storm Veritas, among others, enough not to immediately rush at the pointy eared warrior, incase the dark elf had some sort of sinister little trick or some devastating spell hidden up his sleeve.

So instead of making a move to take advantage of the temporarily fallen dark elf and taking the risk of being greeted with a nasty, painful surprise the vampire simply stood there examining the dark elf with all his sixth sense as well as his spirit sense. A damascus sword, and a few iron sai were the only things Tarry could detect. This meant that the dark elf was either under armed or that he liked to travel light with only the things he was skilled with. The devious vampire figured it was most likely the latter of the two options.

“Remember, not all weapons and armor are metal,” the psychotic killer reminded himself.

When Tarry’s would be killer hurled a sai at him, the vampire made no move to avoid it, choosing to concentrate on the drow that was rushing behind it. After all the sai would simply bounce off the delyn chest plate worn by the bloodsucker. Whatever attack the drow had in mind, likely wouldn't be so easily deflected.

The predator’s movements were quick but subtle. His left hand rested loosely on the hilt of his large sword and the muscles in his powerful body tensed. When the approaching dark elf was just in range, the vampire tore the five-foot, double-edged tungsten blade from its sheath in a wide, horizontal sweeping motion. The attack was easily double the speed that any human was capable of and it was aimed so that the tip of the blade was rip a shallow slit into the dark skinned assassin’s throat.

If the attack was successful, the wound would not be immediately fatal. No, the drow would slowly begin to choke and bleed to death. This was intentional since the sadistic vampire didn’t want to kill his opponent right away. Instead he wanted to make the government’s little lap dog suffer and bleed a bit first because as far as Tarry was concerned, all those delirious bouts of intense paranoia, those panic filled, sleepless nights, they were entirely the fault of the assassin. Of course, to a nut job like Tarry, the only suitable punishment for such mental anguish was physical anguish, and lots of it.

[Izvilvin]

The scrape of iron told Izvilvin that Tarry was wearing armor beneath his shirt, especially frustrating because the Drow was most skilled when he could find openings in armor that he could strike through. He didn’t have time to dwell on it, though, as when he got close enough, Tarry struck with inhuman speed.

Quick as it was, the warrior managed to be quicker. The blade whizzed overhead as Izvilvin ducked low, bolting up the porch stairs without slowing. He rushed past Tarry, dragging a sai in an attempt to cut just below where Izvilvin guessed the armor ended, just below the vampire’s hip level.

The creature was fast, so the Drow decided he wouldn’t stay in close range, despite the fact that it was beneficial to his fighting style with his sai. The only way to go was forward into the shack, so he did just that, spinning fluidly as he entered the doorway to throw one of the heavy weapons straight at Tarry’s bandaged face.

Without waiting to see the result of the attack, Izvilvin spun and ran deeper into the structure. He wanted to get back to Icicle without crossing in front of the incredibly quick vampire. His sai were not heavy enough to parry that Tungsten blade, nor was his remaining dagger.

If there was a back door, he would burst from it and make his way around again. Tarry was incredibly fast, Izvilvin knew, but perhaps the Drow’s agility would make him the better fighter if they were constantly in motion.

[grim137]

“Agile little fucker,” thought Tarry with a bit of frustration as his blade cleaved nothing but air.

Unfortunately the momentum from the vampire’s last attack meant that he wasn’t able to avoid the drow’s next attack. The most Tarry was able to do as the iron sai ripped through his shirt and deep into the flesh of his waist was shift slightly to the side, which served merely to keep the injury from being quite as deep. The injury wasn't painful nor deep enough to be debilitating to the creature of the night, yet it was painful nonetheless. Aside from that, the length of the wound combined with the fact that the vampire’s heart was now pumping quickly caused it to bleed profusely and it wouldn’t be long until Tarry’s blue jeans turned a dark crimson red from the flowing liquid.

The vampire turned quickly to face the agile drow just as the dark elf’s dagger was thrown. The was a stomach churning plop as the diamond blade buried itself into the pure white eye ball of Tarry’s left eye. Luckily as the dagger pierced the puss filled, useless white ball in Tarry’s eye socket, its speed was slowed enough for the quick vampire to grab it and keep it from fatally going into his brain.

Despite the violence of the attack, there was actually very little pain. The nerves and organs in Tarry’s eyes and most of the surrounding eye sockets and skin had long ago been burned and rotted into nothing. Truth be told the crazed vampire barely felt the attack. Instead he merely ripped the dagger out of his eye, taking a good chunk of his useless eyeball with it and allowing the pungent, nostril-offending mixture of blood, puss and various other fluids to run down the side of his face.

The vampire examined the dagger with his hands for a second. He couldn’t sense the blade, which meant it wasn’t metal but he could tell it wasn’t wood from its feel. Foolishly he assumed it was some sort of worthless stone and tossed it behind him into the foliage of the forest. He had better things to think about than what the weapon that had nearly killed him was made of.

The now thoroughly pissed off bloodsucker had a very annoying little assassin to get rid of. The agile, dark skinned assassin was now trapped in a tiny wooden shack that was barely bigger than most large tool shacks. With no back doors and only one window that was barely big enough for a man to squeeze through if they really tried. The only easy way out was through the main door, which Tarry guarded. The only things that could possibly used for cover were an old bed, a table and a couple chairs all of which were made out of cheap, mostly rotten wood. As far as the blind killer knew, there were very few things the drow could do to avoid the next attack.

With a sinister chuckle the vampire aimed the palm of his right hand in the drow’s general direction. Before long a blast of energy erupted from his hand and flew straight towards the pointy-eared assassin. The blast was quickly followed by another and another, and another. The fanged murderer knew he had eight shots and he would keep firing them all until he either ran out until he blasted the drow to death, which ever came first.

[Izvilvin]

Izvilvin grimaced as he entered the shack. As attentive as he’d been to the front of the structure, he hadn’t spared a glance at the length of it. It was a single room, though rather big, with a dirt floor and some basic furniture. No escape.

As bad a choice as it’d been to enter the shack, he couldn’t dwell on it. Pulling one of his Cillu kukris from his hip, Izvilvin twirled it into a reverse grip as he backed against the shack wall. Tarry was inside quickly, a hole in his bandage where his eye would have been. He showed no signs of having slowed down.

The vampire wasted no time in firing an orb of blue light at the Drow. Not ready for it, Izvilvin could only throw up an arm to block. It hit with the force of an arrow, but he grunted away the pain. The next came high, and he ducked it, though it pierced straight through the wall of the shack. Two more came, and those were dodged in similar fashion.

As the fourth passed him, Izvilvin had the opportunity to reach Tarry’s bed. With a burst of adrenaline, he reached under the mattress and threw the entire thing over toward Tarry, more of an attempt to buy a moment than anything else.

That done, he turned. The back of the shack was made of a thin, old wood, coated with a thin layer of dust. Tarry’s three orbs had pierced it easily, so Izvilvin followed suit, charging into the wall with his shoulder. The wood buckled and broke. Another charge tore a big enough rift for him to step to, so he did so and found himself outside once more.

He disliked the way the battle was going, his arm was tingling in angry pain. The shack was a bad place to standoff, but now they were outside. Izvilvin felt his chances were better.

He rounded the building and streaked for Icicle, putting the sai away and plucking the icy blade from the grass. As he did so, he looked toward the shack’s front door for Tarry. Icicle could parry the vampire’s sword if need be, and his Cillu kukri could do the damage. But he needed to be fast.

[grim137]

“Did that fool really think something as simple as a crappy mattress was going to slow me down?” thought Tarry as chicken feathers, cheap padding and bits of wood from the frame rained down upon him following the detonation of the mattress when it collided with two of the malicious vampire’s ki blasts.

However, after the mattress exploded the wounded killer stopped firing his blasts since he noticed that the drow had left the shack. Tarry may have been crazy but he wasn’t stupid, he knew there was no point in wasting his remaining few shots. Besides between the pain he was feeling in his side and the blood loss from both the wound in his side and his eye, the usually minor amount of energy it took to use his blasts was actually considerably tiring. So despite his enhanced stamina the fanged predator was starting to breathe pretty heavily as his body struggled to get the oxygen needed to fuel his powerful muscles.

Slowly the blind vampire drew his deadly tungsten blade out once again before moving slowly through the room, keeping his spirit sense firmly planted on Corone’s assassin. Upon setting foot out side of the stuffy shack that now stank heavily of sawdust and smoke Tarry turned and faced his dark skinned assailant. As far as the bloodsucker could tell, the drow had drawn a sword and nothing else, making Tarry (given his natural cockiness) think he now had a decent advantage.

With out warning the vampire launched a blast of ki energy from mouth aimed at the feet of the agile drow, hoping to catch the dark elf off guard and hopefully remove some of his balance and agility in the process. Yet this was only the first part of Tarry’s attack. With out even waiting for his first shot to hit the ground the relentless bloodsucker shot forward with all the speed he could muster and thrust his large blade forward at the drow in a lightning quick stabbing motion with his right hand on the base of the sword’s hilt. From the palm of Tarry’s right hand, he let loose another blast of ki energy on to the wooden hilt of his sword. The resulting explosion shot the blade forward even more with a surprising amount of speed, a bit less than that of an arrow shot from a short bow.

[Izvilvin]

If Izvilvin had known that Tarry’s sense of weaponry was limited to metals, he’d have acted on it. Given that the Cillu kukri he carried was not metal, but purple glass, Tarry might not have had any sense of it. As it was, Izvilvin was on the defensive and couldn’t attack anyhow.

Tarry’s explosive blast struck near Izvilvin’s feet, but he was moving quickly to avoid it. It set him off balance, but he was square again in a moment to meet the vampire’s charge. The blade shot forward and the Drow thought to parry, but suddenly drifted to the side instead. It proved to be a good decision.

The forceful throw caught Izvilvin off guard. Luckily, the Tungsten blade did not hit him full-on, but flew past and tore a gash in his side. The Drow winced and sucked a pained breath through his teeth, but refused to drop his guard as Tarry came onward.

Icicle whipped across the air between them, trailing a thick, opaque wall of mist that blinded each fighter for a moment. The Drow knew where Tarry had been, through, so rather than retreat, he plunged forward with his kukri, driving the curved dagger through the mist and hopefully into the neck of Tarry Whealer.

[grim137]

It wasn’t overly surprising to Tarry that his attack hadn’t hit dead on. The dark skinned drow had long since proven to be a quick, witty and agile opponent capable of avoiding attacks even from a physically faster attacker like Tarry. Still the faint smell of blood that Marion’s murderer could smell coming from the drow caused a mild sense of joy within the vampire, even if the smell of the drow’s blood was highly over powered by that of his own.

Tarry foolishly believed that the dark elf was aiming at his head when the damascus sword was swung, causing him to step back a bit to avoid the blade. Yet since he couldn’t seen the trail of mist that the elf’s blade left behind the slightly insane vampire wrongfully assumed that the assassin was preparing some sort of magical attack when the air around the two fighters suddenly became very cold. The predator instinctively drew both of his delyn daggers and summoned his ki shield to his right hand before taking a defensive stance and bracing him self for the magical attack that would never come.

No matter how many times it happened to him, it always seemed to surprise Tarry when his opponent used a weapon that wasn’t made of metal on him. This time was no different, leading to one of the first truly successful attacks of the battle, unfortunately Tarry was on the receiving, not the giving, end of it.

Needless to say when that Tarry was just a little surprised when the glass blade of his assailant's weapon cut deeply into his throat causing blood to flow like crimson wine poured from a bottomless pitcher down the drow’s arm and dagger and down Tarry’s chest. The wound was not fatal, it took far more than a slit throat to kill a creature of the night, yet it was still very painful and left the bloodsucker stunned in surprise for a brief moment as his mind scrambled to realize what had happened.

“Son of a bitch…”

Still the surprise didn’t last too long, after all it wasn’t the first time Tarry had gotten his throat slit, it was actually the second time to be precise. Ironically the first time had also been from a dark elf, an assassin by the name of Praenuntio. Still the familiarity with the situation meant the blood-sucking killer already had a plan in mind for retaliation.

From the newly opened wound in his neck the vampire fired his eighth remaining ki blast, hoping the unusual place the attack was being fired from would be enough to catch the dark skinned elf off guard and do enough damage to give the crazed bloodsucker the upper hand.

[Izvilvin]

Victory seemed at hand when Izvilvin broke through the mist, slashing his deadly dagger across the throat of the vampire. A furious look of satisfaction came upon him, but when Tarry did not fall, he was left confused. If only he’d learned a thing or two about the undead or the vampiric, he would have an idea of how to approach the battle better.

Needless to say, when Tarry’s ki blast shot forth from this new orifice, Izvilvin wasn’t expecting it. The projectile struck him straight in the face, knocking his head back and sending him stumbling backward to the ground.

The strike was concussive, but he was still conscious. It was like being hit in the face with a mallet, then having the breath squeezed out of him by a vice. Despite this, he still held both of his weapons.

He tried to rise immediately, but his body felt inable. The blast had done more damage that he'd thought, imbalancing the Drow and ruining whatever chance he had to go on the offensive. Carefully, he leveled his eyes at Tarry, trying to straighten his vision.

[grim137]

((All bunnies approved.))

Success.

Tarry’s blast was far more effective than he had hoped, not only had it connected with the drow but it had clearly injured the dark skinned assailant. Though he may not have been able to see the damage he had done, there were numerous other tale tell signs that made everything clear as day to the blind vampire. The drows breath now sounded a bit pained, his life force felt weaker and of course there had been that ever so wonderful sound that only came when Tarry’s energy met flesh and blood.

“It seems Corone’s little attack dog wasn’t as vicious as they thought,” thought the demented blood sucker with a bit of ecstasy despite the considerable amount of pain he was in.

The slit throat, though not fatal was causing a lot of problems. Because of it he could barely get any oxygen to his body, having to struggle painfully and violently in order to breathe in even the minutest amounts of air. Though he was immortal his body was still subject to many of the same biological laws that a regular human was. That included the fact that his muscles needed air in order to move at full strength. He also needed air to run through his vocal chords in order to speak, but speaking was hardly one his priorities at the moment.

“Fucking drow, I need to feed, that will give me enough strength to live until my body can fully heal itself. Looks like I’m not going to be able to torture that dark skinned little prick after all. Damn shame.

With a slow and dilberate pace that made the pain and the weakness in Tarry’s body obvious, he moved towards the injured drow. With out a word the bloodsucker wrapped his hand around the dark elf’s throat, hoisting him to his feet. With his mouth open and fangs showing the bloodsucker's intentions were clear. Too bad he was never going to get a chance to go through with them. Corone’s assassin had not been as injured as he had thought and in a last ditch effort to avoid becoming a meal he thrust his glass dagger through Tarry’s eye socket and into his brain.

Though the squishing sound that followed the attack was sickening, it paled in comparison to what followed next. From every orifice in Tarry’s body smoke so black that it immediately fell to the ground began to spew, enveloping the two. Smoke coming from holes covered by cloths or armor spew out Tarry’s sleeves, pants legs and filling up his boots until it overflowed from the rims.

Blood too, began to flow quickly from the vampire’s bleeding wounds. Red at first it slowly and gradually began to turn black as it continued to fall to the ground, turning the dirt into mud. It sizzled a bit when it touched the air, bubbling and steaming despite the fact that in reality it was actually as cold as ice water. As the blood flowed it caught the skin that turned to ash and fell from Tarry’s body.

This spectacle lasted only a few minutes until there was nothing left of Tarry except his blackened skeleton, which hung from the surprised drow like a macabre puppet. His armor and his cloths were still attached, dangling limply on the bones.

That day, in the solitude of the forest, Tarry died. Away from his home planet and having scorned almost all those he encountered on Althanas, there was nobody to mourn him, nobody to burry him, and only the drow to even know he was dead to begin with. He died a monster, an animal devoid of all humanity he once possessed. How fitting it was that he did so the forest that he had so loved to hunt in.

((Spoils:

Tarry loses all equipment that he currently owns.

Tarry loses the following abilities: The sword has a mind of its own, 6th sense, and Ki shield.

Tarry gains the following equipment: one mythril cuirass, one double edged prevalida long sword, one double edged plynt combat knife and various cloths of numerous shapes colors, silks and cottons. None of the cloths can be sold nor are they particularly valuable. The also have no special properties of any sort. The only point in the cloths is so that my character doesn’t have to wear the same thing in every thread.

Note: The spoils will be explained in my level 5 update and in an up coming solo after this thread. I am simply requesting them now so that I don’t have to wait too long in order to start using the new version of my character.))

[Izvilvin]

Izvilvin tried to focus his sight, tried to raise arms as Tarry closed in. Try as he might, the force of the vampire’s ki blast had severed the Drow’s connection to his motor skills, at least for the moment. The warrior could only grunt as he was lifted by the throat, piercing nails puncturing the skin at his neck.

The vampire’s fangs promised pain. Izvilvin, who had survived a sea serpent the size of a great boat, a wizard who was able to summon the most fearsome dragon to ever roam the lands, and a legion of harpies atop a mountain – where Rheawien had first pricked at his heart – was about to die at the hands of a murderous vampire.

Somewhere, some force must have thought it the wrong fate for the warrior. With newfound strength and determination, Izvilvin met Tarry’s coming face with his Cillu kukri, the vampire unable to sense the glass weapon. The lavender weapon tore through what remained of Tarry’s damaged eye and pierced the creature’s brain. Undead, unloving or anything of the sort, he could not survive.

Tarry’s sudden convulsion had him releasing Izvilvin, who fell to his hands and knees with empty hands that could no longer hold his weapons. Smoke rose and ash fell, meeting Izvilvin’s downward gaze. It seemed that only moments later, Tarry was gone, the blackened skeleton having fallen and draped over the Drow. With an unaffectionate shrug, he pushed the thing off of his back.

It was silent then once more, save for the slow click of the horse’s hooves as it waited and the tiny stream. Izvilvin tried to rise but could not. Determinedly he dragged himself to the water, and with an exhausted sigh, dropped his face into the water, shaking away the pain. After a moment he turned and lay, back against the smooth rocks, staring into the sky.

Finally, he sat up, hair sopping wet and stuck to his neck and back. Tarry’s skeleton was still lifeless on the ground, a thankful reminder to Izvilvin that all he had to do was rise and ride away. With great determination, he stood and walked crookedly toward his weapons, picking each and every one of them up one at a time – including the sai he had thrown so haphazardly, earlier.

That done, he examined Tarry’s items. A pair of daggers, black and made of a heavy, seemingly dense material, were his reward, along with the vampire’s chestplate, which Izvilvin ripped from the corpse. Izvilvin had little knowledge of materials, but realized that these were Delyn. A friend at the Keep could let him in on what, precisely, that would mean.

His horse, black as midnight still, handled the extra weight well. With his chest pressed firmly against the saddle, Izvilvin spurred the horse into a comfortable trot, wheeling it around and back into the forest. Radasanth was not far, thankfully for the Drow.

((Spoils: Tarry’s Delyn daggers (2) and Delyn Chestplate. In lieu of a reward of gold from Step (which would have been large for this bounty, mind you!), I request that I get a free enchantment (as they are Delyn, and stuff) upon level up for each of those daggers. The enchantments won’t be any more powerful than that of Icicle, and will have to be approved by the RoG moderator at my level update. I’ll spend my gold enchanting the chestplate at the bazaar, likely.

Thanks for the fun, Grim :D Good luck with the rebirth and such!))

[Letho]

General Notes: I’d just like to say that it takes guts to kill off your character. I understand that you’re going to revive him or something, but death of a PC is still a rather rare find on Althanas. Whether or not it was a good death thread, find out below.


CONTINUITY – 7/10

I found Izvilvin’s reasons for being in this quest somewhat lacking. Step shouldn’t be a trump card that you pull out every time you want to make your character be somewhere. There are more ingenious to do that. Grim did better, but then again, this was his character and his story. Even though I read the prequel, I appreciate the info you gave on what happened before. Some things made less sense then others (like the whole visit to the Elfin’s Garden), but all in all, not too bad.

SETTING – 5/10

The first thing that caught my eye was the fact that it was introduced too late at the very beginning of the thread. For two posts you basically wrote about Tarry and his feelings and thoughts, Grim, but you failed to provide me with a setting. Try to integrate the setting more in your posts. Other that that detail, I can’t say that I was especially impressed by the setting in this quest. It was rather basic with locations that weren’t too unique.

PACING – 8/10

I have to admit that the entire thread was rather well paced, mostly because there were basically three separate action scenes. However, it was a pretty straightforward quest with few twist and turns, so while I managed to read it in one go, it didn’t really keep me at the edge of my seat. Then again, few stories have that specific ability.

DIALOGUE – 6/10

There was oddly little dialogue in the entire thread. The fact that Izvilvin isn’t the most verbal person only further established this fact. However, this isn’t necessarily a bad thing since you managed to convey the story without it. But where there was dialogue, I found several things that I didn’t particularly like. Most notable one was the big fat paragraphs of dialogue that were, on places, over 10 lines long. Too long. Even if the character is giving some sort of a speech, keep in mind that a person doesn’t move only his mouth when he/she is speaking. There are posture changes, hand gestures, facial expressions. Use these to cut the dialogue in shorter paragraphs.

ACTION – 7/10

The fight at the end was good. Often times, when people are trying to write something as important as the death of a character, they overdo it, drawing the climax for longer then it ought to be. I was glad to see that you two didn’t fall into that trap. However, there were some other actions that just seemed a bit off, like the aforementioned pointless visit to the rich part of Radasanth or the whole thing about the act. I mean, why would the Syndicate take such a risk to attack the convoy just to tear a piece of paper apart? Is there no more paper in Corone for them to write another? At best, such action would delay the whole agreement for a month or less before those in charge made another. However, this is just a minor detail. Most of the other things were done fairly.

PERSONA – 4/10

I’m sad to say that this was the worst aspect of the thread. For a thread in which a PC is to die, there was very little persona from both of you. Grim, you started off with Tarry feeling a bit upset, even deliberating on some of his misdeeds, but somewhere along the way, that not only got lost, but it failed to evolve into anything. In the end, Tarry was just a vampire who fought yet another merc and died in the process. Izvilvin, there is something that seems to draw through all your writing on this account and it is the lack of depth when it comes to Izvilvin. He just goes around, doing whatever he’s doing with very little significant thought or attachment to anything. This perhaps makes a character easier to write, but it also makes him a bit shallow. Even if your characters are just killers, they too have thoughts and emotions.

MECHANICS – 7/10

Both of you – but especially Grim – have a bad habit of simply dropping out words somewhere in the sentence. This doesn’t happen to often, once or twice per post, but it’s enough to break the flow, just as the occasional typos are. Other then that, I have no objections.

TECHNIQUE – 5/10

I won’t draw this comment any longer then I should, so I’ll just say that I haven’t found anything worth mentioning when it comes to technique.

CLARITY – 7/10

There were times when you try to say too much in one sentence, Grim. These sentences aren’t necessarily long, but they deal with like three separate things, and if you don’t use the correct punctuation, the entire thing makes the reader read the same thing twice or even thrice. Try not to do that.

WILD CARD – 7/10

If Tarry wasn’t to be reborn or revived or resurrected or resomething-else, this kind of a story would’ve been even more gutsy and I would have to score higher here. As it is, 7 will suffice.




TOTAL SCORE – 63/100

Congratulations!!!


SPOILS:
Grim137 receives 2900 EXP, 350 GP and gains/loses all the items/skills he requested
Izvilvin receives 2300 EXP, 200 and all the items/enchantment he requested, under stipulation that both daggers are enchanted with the same enchantment.


EXP/GP added! Both of you level up.