Throwing Down the Gauntlet (Rhapsody in D. - Blood Hunt Pt II)

[Kobra]

Above the tavern where so much had come to pass, upon the very roof that scaled above the inn, there is set a macabre tableau; a violence unmatched even in the horrors of recent times.

Nine iron spikes are hefted in a semicircle, ten feet each, some of them segmented so that they could be extended and locked in place with heavy screws. Each is bolted to the tiles, set firmly so that it will doubtless take a great force and many men to remove them.

But the spectacle that greets the eyes - and the noses - of the taverngoers is so savagely bizarre that it will likely be the talk of Myrken-town for some ages to come.

Upon each spike a humanoid body is impaled, the greased iron pole driven between the buttocks - on all but one - and slid into the body cavity, upon most then to emerge from the victim's mouth; from the contortion of their limbs it is plain that all were alive at the time of this brutal act.

All of the corpses are horribly burned, almost beyond recognition. By what, given there has been no sign of a fire upon the roof of the tavern, such may have been a mystery, were it not for signs of fangs within their mouths; explanation, then.

They are, or were, all vampires.

The arms of one corpse have been wrenched from their sockets prior to death; the eyes stitched shut. A blind and crippled lord.

The Ventrue, Mikaen.

The arms are found inexplicably fused to the sides of the second corpse, a female, set out as though she were four-armed eastern goddess splayed upon the impaling spear; a spear driven through her in a more violating manner even than the others.

The Toreador, Karissa.

The third corpse is so badly charred as to be nigh unrecognisable.

The Tremere, Jahrvek.

These three head the circle of nine; the others arc behind them, squashed into almost foetal postures upon their spikes; the entrails of all of them have been removed and threaded between the corpses to create an obscene tapestry; the fiery kiss of dawn, however, has disintegrated much of this blighted spiderweb, leaving it to hang a sizzling spiderweb from the remains.

The Neonates.

And foremost, set to loom over the figure of a monstrous, snarling stone gargoyle set at the very front of the tavern, is a figure impaled apart from the rest; and so horribly mutilated as to be considered an artwork unto itself.

The beautiful golden hair stretched back and woven about a steel frame inserted into the back; a frame that supports the butchery. For this body's ribcage has been split open from behind, and his lungs pulled out his back in the manner of a classic spreadeagling. These now-shrivelled organs are set upon the framework, splayed out and pinned in a manner suggesting wings.

That his muscle has been stripped from his bones, separated delicately into individual fibres, and folded back to resemble feathers along his arms and legs was also indicative of the pose he has been set into; a martyr, a savior.

Here was the fate of the Angel of the Night.

The Toreador, Shamiel.

And dead, but not burned, their throats simply slashed, four human corpses are set at the foot of each Impalement; the kine the coven had been feeding off in their lair are not spared D's malignance. Here, they are set out in an obscene Nativity; forced into penitent postures, their eyes bloodily plucked forth and their hands sewn together into stiff gestures of prayer. Worshiping their charred eidolons, their murdered, futile gods.

Here was the gauntlet thrown. Here was the challenge promised, to the authority of Myrken's vampire lords; into the faces of Varian and Lucian was the insult spat, by their nameless and mysterious new rival.

Could they protect their own, from this? Could they even protect themselves?

An iron plaque is set at the foot of the diorama of profanity; a biblical quote to add blasphemy to horror.

And he said unto him, all of these things I will give unto thee, if thou wilt fall down and worship me.

[Kobra]

(( This post applies DIRECTLY to the events in the post, "Rhapsody in D - Blood Hunt" on the Myrkentown board. Viewer discretion applies; may contain scenes of high level violence to vampires.

Looking forward to continuing the chaos ))

[Rattrap]

Thomas stood off to the side, in the grass, bent over and retching. Robert gave him the occasional helpful pat, shaking his head at the scene. Through squinted eyes he looked, having fortified himself to avoid Thomas' fate. Thomas continued retching for several minutes.

Finally, he stopped - waited a moment, and then stood up straight again. Alas, he looked again, and he started all over again, despite having simply nothing left to lose.

"Weh gotta clean that up, Thomas."

Between wretches, Thomas' answer was quite distinguishable: "Hell no! I'm not going anywhere near the damned things!"

The corporal nodded at his partner's hesitation and grimaced himself. They were both in agreement, then.

"C'mon, then...let's go talk teh the Cap'n."

Thomas nodded, trying to compose himself - there was a good pause of the retching, and the corporal decided if he was going to ever stand up again, he might as well try now. It had left him feeling a little cold, shaky, and clammy, but Robert helped him down the cobblestone road away from the Broken Dagger.

[Mongrel]

Brother Thebbidus’s forehead wrinkled with curiousity as he walked quietly down one of the smaller roads of Myrkentown. The silence was abnormal, almost unsettling. The ferris’s hammer did not chime in the morning air. There was not the sound of the fletcher’s cocks, complaining as feathers were plucked from their wings, to be used to make his arrows fly straight and true. Where were the merchants and the craftsmen?

The monk turned the corner, moving toward the town center. His movement ceased. His eyes widening as they fell upon the monument of violence. His mouth gaped. Blood. A silent crowd stared at the display. Dead eyes staring toward the heavens. The ferris, the fletcher, the merchants, the crafsmen...they were all gathered, staring. The corpses forced to piety. None spoke. It was as if he were deaf. Mouths open for silent screams.

Brother Thebbidus took some quick steps to the nearest building. He planted a smooth palm against the wall and bent forward, emptying his stomach upon the cool morning earth. His thick rejection splattering the front of his habit and his sandaled feet. He squeezed his eyes shut and hovered there for a moment, hesitant to move were he to be sick anew. He wiped his chin. He needed to get back to the priory. Prior Hivarin needed to be notified.

There were just too many signs. Far too many signs.

[Alex Knight]

Azakael frowned as he examined the corpses on the roof. All of them seem to be mangled a little more than needs be. However, one of them caught his eyes- the four armed corpse with the spear in a cruel location. Who ever created this display of morbidity was certainly sicker than the necromancer who came to remove one of the bodies.

Carefully he took hold of the spike for balance as he began to push the body off with his scythe. It slid slowly, requiring him to push all of his strength into it. The body slipped a little faster as the rain provided some lubrication for the removal of the corpse.
'Yes,' he nodded, smiling to himself, 'This body will work nicely. Hopefully the arms are fused in a useable condition, otherwise I'll just have to discard them.'

The body toppled off the pole and landed on the roof with a thud. The necromancer stumbled slightly as he attemped to avoid falling off the roof himself. The body began to slide down the side of the rain slicked roof, gaining speed as the creature that would be his bane grabbed hold of an arm. Azakael frowned, not wanting his prize corpse to be taken from his that quickly. He looked about and noticed a second corpse had its body chopped in half.

In order to save his work, he carefully crawled over to it, and began to drag it back, so that he could toss it at the creature. In order to do so, he released his scythe, which skittered to the ground below. Azakael tossed the half corpse towards the creature and announced in his whisper, "That one is mine. Take this one instead."

The creature took this as a hostile gesture as it knocked him from the roof.

After climbing down, Azakel came around to collect his weapon and the corpse. What he found was the creature simply known as the Mandlor waiting for him. A brief scuffle ensued, the creature having the upper hand. Only a mere trick of fate saved him from possible death. Something called the creature away. With a wry grin, the necromancer went to collect his prize. Overhead, the lightning lit the sky, only seven of the corpses remained.

[Rattrap]

The two men had scaled to the roof of the Broken Dagger, where the horrific mess still stood, cut down in numbers but still there nonetheless. The sheriff Tyralor and Doctor David D'Rael scaled the slippery roof as the darkness and rain blanketed them and started cleaning up the disgusting mess of death.

The spike were placed down much to strong to simply push away, so the two had to wrench away each body, one at a time, and simply toss it off the roof. Tarek had found himself helping the duo on the ground, shoveling the bodies in a wheel barrow and dumping them off to a nearby barn where they could be buried.

It was a distinctively disturbing job, but the two carried it out without much more than the occasional slip of the feet on the slicked rooftop. Tyralor left promptly after, and Tarek offered David help in getting down, at least.

Then he stalked off into the night, among the bodies with a shovel, and begun the long traditional process that the seven had prolonged from so long ago.

Hours afterwards, there would be nothing left of the gruesome display but the spikes on the roof that the night had washed, and seven soft beds of dirt in the grass near a barn not so far away from the Broken Dagger, leaving no other clue to their work, or the further damage the Doctor had done to the vampires to prevent the bodies from ever rising again under the twisted forces that had kept them moving for far past their time.