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Shadows fell thick along the alleys and by-ways of Caldwell, New York. A tall figure moved through the blackness, all steel and leather. Hair black as night spilling down his back. Pale green eyes behind thick wrap-arounds.
Fangs exposed in a merciless grin as he scented the air and caught thick, cloying baby powder. A lesser was in the area.
Wrath, the vampire king, moved like a storm in the direction of the scent. For millenia his kind had been at war with the creatures, once human but now bloodless, heartless and soulless. Members of an organization called the Lessening Society, lessers existed for one reason, and one reason only---to hunt vampires. Wrath and his brothers, members of the secret order called the Black Dagger Brotherhood, were tasked with killing as many lessers as possible, and collecting the ceramic jar in which their withered blackened heart was kept. Thousands of such jars---trophies all---lined shelves in the Brotherhood's inner sanctum.
The war had taken a new turn lately, however. Vampire scientists had got hold of a heavily-sedated lesser for study and it turned out he was as fertile as a female vampire in her breeding time---the idea was that such captive matings could be used to produce the ultimate soldiers. Ruthless killers who were as disciplined as Brothers but with the fanatical drive of a lesser and who could walk in the sunlight. Benefits of both and drawbacks of neither, one hoped. But first they needed some breeding stock. So here Wrath was now, out for the first time not to kill a lesser, but to capture it.
Smirking, he tested the weight of the chain looped round his upper arm. Heavy-gauge steel; lessers were strong but they couldn't break this shit. It would be the ideal lasso; he'd be hoping to catch the lesser by surprise and bind its limbs together before it could even react.
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The dark liquid within the flask ran empty as the figure downed the beverage with an intense thirst for more. It was but a prelude to what he truly wanted however. There was a thirst he wanted that was always filling and promising, one that never exhausted itself. One day it would, but for now it wouldn't, causing something like him to be created in the first place. Vampires were a menace and him and many more like him were the solution.
There were not actual emotions that pumped from the black heart inside of him. If there was, maybe there was sympathy he would have for his would be victims, but there was not. Vampires were terrible creatures that needed to be dealt with and he would be their salvation in any for necessary.
The buff and tall figure stared into the alleyways, the shotgun he carried hidden now fully revealed. Chances were nothing was there, but not bothering was all it took for those creatures of the night to surprise and attack someone.
(Made a Lesser if it helps)
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((It does! Lessers don't actually drink since technically they're dead but whatever, I'm so happy!))
Wrath managed to hide his bulk behind some trashcans as he scoped out his prize---a real beauty of a creature, tall and strong. Likely dumb as a sack of bricks in life, but exactly the kind of mean motherfucker the Society drew its membership from. He'd make a fine bitch---probably a fun ride, a real game to overpower. Rhage would love that; he liked when the fuckers fought him and he loved to rip them up.
His sensitive hearing caught the cocking of a weapon some yards off--rifle, it sounded like; maybe shotgun. Interesting choice; he wondered if any of the shells were steel. If so, it'd be so easy to turn the weapon on the lesser and send it screaming back to the Omega, the vile deity that created it. Only steel could kill them for sure---Wrath had even seen lessers chopped in half before, and the pieces still moving with some unholy life. Smirking, he adjusted his shades, his eyes glowing behind the smoked lenses like sodium-arc lights.
"Here, lesser-lesser-lesser!," he taunted the creature in a leonine snarl, "come on out and get brought in like a good little slut or I'll have to cut your legs off and make you eat 'em."
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(Okay!)
His ears twitched at the sound of the figure's voice and he turned his attention to the direction in which he heard it. The figure that otherwise revealed the complexion of a young but strong male, began to load the bullets up, but instead of the regular lead filled bullets, this one was covered in a strange bright fluorescent blue color. His firm hands pumped the gun as the hammers were pulled back. In an instant, the bullets were soaring through the air, making their way to the numerous forms of trash. Some bags blew open and metal cans began to fall over. The tall figure began to fire off again without hesitation. If he had failed, he intended to grab whoever it was and perhaps crush it to death with his now unnatural might.
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Wrath snickered at the sound of the shots---he waited until it sounded like the other had spent his clip and then leaped out of cover, chain swinging, trying to truss up the lesser and get it harmlessly bound. If nothing else he could at least count on it not screaming for help; attracting the attention of the human police was bad for both their species.
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Reed saw his chance. It wasn't every night that the vampire king showed his face. If he pulled this off, the war could end. He never thought about what it might mean for him and the other lessers once the war ended. They only existed to kill vampires. Once the vampires were gone, what then...? But Reed didn't think about that. He only had one purpose and that was to kill.
In a former life, what he could remember anyway, Reed had been a runner. A track star. He had the lean, svelte figure of someone who could tackle long distances without tiring. Bronze eyes gleamed when he witnessed Wrath leap out from his hiding place among the garbage. Reed jumped down from the fire escape up above, long red braid trailing behind him. His hands gripped the metal bat and then he swung it with all his might at the back of Wrath's knees.
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As the chain swung, the figure formerly known as Tyson, rose his hand upward to defend, the other dropping the gun as time would be wasted in attempting to reload. As the chain made contact, Tyson countered it with his lowered hand, pushing Wrath back with incredible force as his other hand rose to try and strangle him. He was not alone in the matter as another Lesser had joined in the fray. Together, they could hopefully get rid of the vampire King.
((Happy New Years in case I don't see you all until after lol))
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((Do you both want the same vampire or are you okay with me bringing in another? And happy New Year to you!))
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((I'm fine with you bringing in another. I know I was the second to come in, so I'll gladly go along with whatever you think is best.))
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(A second one works as well)
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((Duly noted!))
The one think Wrath hadn't been counting on, was there being not one lesser, but two. The one pushed his chain aside even as the other whacked him in the knee with a metal bat. He howled, and fell into a roll, trying to drag the one with the chain along with him. Hopefully to get the upper hand again and choke it out. This was one moment he'd give anything for some of Vishous' mental gifts, the telepathy thing---he was going to need help with these two----
His silent prayer was answered by a deep laugh from the mouth of the alley. Rhage appeared behind the one with the bat, having teleported from the street. He grabbed the neck of the reedy-looking one with the bat and whipped it around to face him--then immediately his fists started flying. Rhage was truly a marvel to watch; not an ounce of wasted effort or unnecessary flash. And also, if it came right down to it, he had a monstrous ally lurking in the skin across his shoulders and back. The tatoo of a green-and-purple dragon wasn't just there for decoration. Piss him off, and he'd become the thing, a horror-show of ripping skin. It loved eating lessers, sometimes whole, sometimes chunk by chunk. Not ideal here, granted, but really, all they needed was one slut.
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Reed felt a slimy shiver run up his spine at the sound of that laugh. For a split second, he'd gotten his hopes up that he and Tyson would be able to finish off Wrath together, but he should have known better. A king never left his castle without his trusted knight. Reed choked as two icy cold hands gripped his throat and then snapped it around. He could feel the bone crack apart, but unless his body was officially dismembered, his lifeless body would continue its existence.
Being dead didn't stop the pain, though.
Reed barely had time to make a pained noise and snap his neck back together before Rhage release a flurry of punches. Reed felt every single one of them land on his body somewhere. He could feel his ribs break, collarbone shatter, organs bruise... The bat dropped from his hand when both his radius and ulna snapped in twain. Shit, that arm was useless now. The red-haired lesser stumbled and fell to the ground littered with garbage. He coughed, sending up the black goop that now occupied his veins.
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Tyson may have lacked the strength to tear the chains loose, but his unnatural strength was enough to keep him from being dragged along, if not leaving Wrath in a contest of strength and might alone. He tugged back on the chains fiercely, intending to counter the vampire's attempt with that of his own. If he succeeded, he would send him hurling towards him, gripping the undead's neck with his slightly massive hands. If he could kill him then and there, there would be only one remaining. As the other Lesser had done, another vampire had shown up out the shadows. Because Tyson was not technically living however, he had no emotion that bade him to run. Instead, his sole instinct was to kill or be killed, his blue eyes that once had some beauty to them now ice cold.
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((Sure if you like! We could use more vampires! Also Red, I love that you've apparently read the books! ))
Tyson had plenty of strength---the Omega tended to select for that, that and pure sociopathy---but what he lacked was fangs. Wrath's could extend longer than a tiger's, and he bit into and through that cold clammy hand as it tried to lock around his throat. Yes, he'd pay for it with a mouthful of toxic ichor leaking from Tyson's wound, but it should be enough to at least break his concentration enough that he could flip him, and get him chained up and possibly gagged. Then it would be a fairly simple matter of getting Butch to come by with the Land Rover and hustle him in, get him shuttled off to the underground compound that would be his new home. The tunnels underneath the Brotherhood's compound were even getting new additions put in by a fleet of laborer-doggen---a minor warren of holding cells specially lined with steel spikes so the sluts inside wouldn't risk throwing themselves at the walls and potentially losing their babies, a guarded nursery and maternity clinic, even special rooms just for fucking. All to house this slut and whatever future bretherin they were able to catch for him.
Crowing delightedly, Rhage followed Reed down, flipping him expertly over and snapping the restraints in place. Zipties and steel at wrists and ankles; no sense risking them breaking out. He paused a moment and whipped off his shirt beneath his leather jacket and stuffed it in Reed's mouth. "Stay," he told him, as one might a misbehaving dog. Then he lunged into the fight against Tyson.
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((Haha yup, he hasn't gone all the way blind yet. Still has vision enough to kick (and rape) ass!))
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((XD, I was using the wiki. I think I remember having this conversation before about this roleplay and I kind of just thought to see if this was the same one by going to research it a bit. I wasn't too sure on how to play Lessers out effectively however, but decided to attempt it when joining. Sorry for the short post though, but hopefully it's enough to proceed with.)
Tyson withdrew his hand back, forcing him to push the vampire off with his boots, hopefully with enough force to at least send Wrath back. As he examined his wound a bit, black liquid rushing out his partially pale colored wrist, he gave a look of disgust a bit before planning to attack the vampire again.
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((Oh yeah, now I remember! And yeah, if you play a lesser, please do the research!))
Wrath was pushed back, his wraparounds nearly dislodged. He had to shove them back in place with a curse, though he smirked when he realized Rhage had joined him---grabbing Tyson from behind and attempting to slam his head into the alley's brick wall, hopefully hard enough to stun him long enough to get him tied up.
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(Do you have room for one more vampire?)