Mon Apr 10, 2006 8:34 pm
... there is only justice, law is merely the guidlines of cowards and the weak.
"Ya sure aboot dis?"
"No."
"Err, bad odds, aye?"
"Yeah."
"Chances we na be comin' out alive?"
"Most likely."
"Fookin' great! Jes me partah!."
Two lone figures stood before the large doors of the run-down manor that seemed as if it was long ago abandoned and forgotten, the only sign of occupancy was the dim light of candle flickers in the broken windows and the muffled sounds that came within that seemed more the rapture of sin then anything else, a revelation of another side of existence, a darker side. Mikhail stood before the large oaken door with the small dwarven warrior aside him grinning a a mismatched smile of tooth and gold in something mocking morbid amusement of the situation the man had dragged him into, but then again knowing the pair they were completely trashed and so the idea might have merely been drunken stupidity. Borgan as nodding once as if to say he was ready before the creep of the door slowly opened at Mikhail's press inward, and instead of a mass of horde meaning to rip them apart there was .... Elegance. The floor was red-velvet, the candles fresh and barely melted upon their holders on the freshly painted walls and the only resistance to greet them was an -overly- charming smile from a rather handsome and flush colored man and asked just as politely; "Can I help you gentlemen?"
Surprising? Perhaps to the dwarf atleast, he had expected some kind of typical bloodbath with bodies and ravenous creatures, only to blink those mismatched eyes at the man blankly. Mikhail on the other hand seemed less then so, his cool countenance only reflected the casual of his demeanor, for he knew something that Borgan didn't and that was the horror will come, soon enough. "I'm here to see Varguss. I have business with him." He muttered in his usual drone of monotony, turning that large, barbarically build frame towards the smaller man behind the counter. Courteous atleast, of course until the poor excuse for a man uttered a blatant lie only a moment after; "Ah, but Lord Varguss is not taking callers this eve, can I take a message?" Again that pristine smile, that mocking of iridescent blue eyes which with as soon as it came was crashing against the counter's surface, polished wood splattering with blood and teeth from the 'hopeful' ... perhaps when his Master finally favors him the dark kiss will make him pretty again and if not? Well the speed of Mikhail's hand reaching for his hair and slamming his face down just ruined the man getting a picnic with an innocent farmgirl anytime soon, but then again perhaps he did someone a favor in the long run. "Wrong answer." Violence? Definitely in this case, for as the host gargled something incoherent, choking on his own blood his hand was already in position to ring the bell, the 'emergency' bell so to speak and that was -what- he was hoping to avoid, though in a way he knew it wouldn't be that easy, it -never- was.
" ... one day we be needin' ta learn tha word the asian'n be trying to learn me... obfuckashun or somtin ... it meaning like NOT fookin' alarmin' da whole place and bein' quiet!" Borgan snapped at Mikhail's action and the jingle of the bell sounding out in the lobby. Who knew how far it went, past the two large bouncers busting in through the main doors within past the proper, slowly closing the twin doors behind them as if to not alarm the occupants from where they came. Dressed in long, hooded cloaks, they were like the cliche of most tales about vampires are demons, only in this case they were about ten feet, the tips of cowls brushing against the ceiling and their advancing was awkward down the small hallway just before there was a flicker of fabric and the scrap of nails across wood, the animalistic humanoids were nothing that would even prove to have once been pretty, they were like deformed wolves, if the legions and pussed boils that only left patches of grayish hair that could have -once- been a coat of fur wasn't sickening enough, the stench was horrid as well with the black sludge of ichor that pooled from their mouth in copious amounts. The first thought would to think they were werewolves, but that would be an insult to any self respecting one and Mikhail -- and even Borgan -- knew better. "Den again I live fer dis shite, yaaaaaaaaaaaaa!" The little dwarf let out such a warcry as he charged after the one heading towards him, not even bothering to draw one of the twin axes across his back as his plate-armor clanked in reverie as he dashed forward, little arm swinging out and sending a small gauntleted fist towards the snout of the thing, which with his strength and momentum landed square on, sending the large creature twice his size barreling back like it had just trained head-first into a stonewall.
As for Mikhail in this case, he was above playing any games today, -not- today. The reason why he was here was not to do a "shift" so he could get home, it was to get information for himself and fulfill a promise and make good on his word. Not for the sake he feared his life for it was obvious he had no fear of losing such a thing as his own large creature throttled towards him with conviction, the look in the dead crimson eyes showed that it was hungry for his flesh, that it would tear him limb from limb and feast! The fatal mistake it made as leaping at him, it should have just kept charging and bit, though in reality the only reason why the man had a chance was -that- alone. Gravity tended to not help when it came battle most of the time, moreso when such a large mass was falling downward. Games? No, not -today- and when his right, gauntleted hand reached for the hilt of the long sword at his side, the flicker of steel glinted before the sound even echoed in the hallway as his blade arc'd inward then out in a clean slice, leaving the silent shatter of a thousand ashes to poof in the air as the creature was cleaved in half, leaving the mock of snow to flutter in the room, coating over him like a morbid winter's fall. The sound of metal and hardened leather sounded even before his first heavy footfall forward creaked against the ancient floorboards of the manor, the trock of a hilt setting firmly back into place in finality. He moved, down the hall, looking forward as he did, not bothering to watch Borgan, -little- as he was have his own 'prey' in a firm headlock, gleeing the entire time.
"Sa right! Say Uncy Borgan! SAY I'!" Borgan scoffed at the thing as it twitched violently behind the dwarf, trying to get free, trying to whip it's head about in a flailing manner as if to toss him about like a rag doll. It might have been the hold, or the fact he was dressed in full platemail that kept it from doing so fully, only to be like a poor animal stuck in a trap. Mikhail finally stepped up and snorted in discontent, ash fluttered out of his nostrils as he spoke firmly; "Quit fooling around..." He stated before he was reaching for the main doors to the proper and pushing in, which only heralded the sickening sound of bone snapped and Borgan finally twisted the neck of the creature and let it fall limp to the ground under him. " ... always bein' ruinin' me fun!" He exclaimed in something of a pout before he trotted after the man in the wake of ash himself as the slain creature slowly started to dematerialize into a pile of lost existance.
Mikhail lead the way, pushing past the large oaken door, heavy enough that it almost scraped like the opening of a mausoleum into the large proper. In the two dragoons stepped into the pugnant smell of ... sex and blood. The balcony overlooked something of a pit with a main support strutting up to the curvature of the manor's roof, something of a bar encircling it in the mundane of a tender cleaning glasses ... only to be flushed royally by the monstrosity that spread around it like a growing plague. It was nothing tame, the raping of men and women was evident, wanted or not, either sexually or in other ways. Vampires feasting over a catch in anyway they could, the moans of pain or pleasure all mixed into one vomititous sound.
"Woah." Borgan spoke, almost in shock, glancing up at the larger man almost child-like in his cant of overly seasoned features, questioning him for the next move to make. This was obviously something they would normally deal with.
"You can stay..." He was curt, he was deadpan ... there was -nothing- in his voice anymore, but intent. Intent on getting information on a few things, and the man he sought had his greedy little fingers in everything of this place, for he was the man to -see- when it came to otherworldly matter and names. Looking below .... he -must-- have names. Mikhail was stepped for a new set of stairs in this, even as his companion seemed torn of what to do, how to act. The sharp edge of a simple long sword dragged behind him, making treaded thuds behind as he moved upwards towards the third level, his boots just as heavy, as if announcing himself. Calling more guards. Bring them. They will all see the same fate that those he sought soon will.
-- To be continued...... --