The city started to bleed.
At almost the behest of one man, the sky over the city turned a crimson-orange to make way for the afternoon sun; smoke stacks rising above the skyline to signify the burning of homes, shops and corpses alike. The blood of those who did not turn to dust sank into the ground and seeped through the stone, forever ingraining the event in the minds of everyone who tried to fight for the city, and everyone who tried to keep it. However, like many good points in history, chaos starts to run among. The paupers, the thieves and the thugs, the killers and heretics start to pour from their depths to unleash their anarchistic desires upon the mayhem that the city began to stink of.
Of course, as it has a penchant for worming it's way into others people's business, desolation and fear gripped at the hearts of those who threw themselves into the fray. They weren't all heroes looking to protect their city, though. The chaos was an opportunity to Erfaron Draylas and Groux Favreau; two marauders looking to fill up their pockets of their fair share and cure their idle hands while the city scrambled to it's feet in the throes of revolution. They always looked like they were in a hurry as they bustled about, swishing from street to street, using their vampiric abilities to the highest efficiency. They were like swathes of black smoke as they perused the carcass on offer. Broken stores, desolate stalls and abandoned shopfronts that were all but protected.
The burning streets were proving profitable at their most modest of times. The bags the vampires equipped themselves with were holding up to standard; coins and jewellery clanking against their backs as they weaved through the streets, causing terror to any passing Unionists who might be unfortunate enough to be a feeding target. Though, they seemed to desire more. They wanted a big score. Something to give them a house and kick their feet up. Comfort through turmoil was their main game. After turning onto a wide main street, their eyes set upon a building of high stature. A bank with three floors and what seemed to be no one around; completely open to the winds. So in a fit of ill-advised decisions and greed, they abandoned their duffle bags in order to maneuver the building properly.
After finding a clump of discarded, burnt lumber and stone, Groux tossed a hefty mixture of trash at the first story window. It shattered open, causing the lone occupant inside to scream and panic in fear. Erfaron tossed himself through the window, using his gloved left hand to lever himself over the edge. He bore his fangs at the wealthily dressed banker, hissing and screeching at him. Groux followed just behind, practically tossing the man aside and drinking from his neck like the reaver he was. Erfaron kept watch while Groux took his keys, giving the duo access to the second floor. With the man passed out from bloodloss and not a soul in sight, there wasn't much to stop them.They pried the iron bars on the cell-like counter open, forcing themselves inside. As the first floor was fairly devoid of funds, save for a few pouches of Regal coins, the duo made their way to the second floor.
The true prize was laid out in front of them. A stack of silver bars and a statuette figure of a woman with encrusted gemstones was enough to gain the attention and gaze of the marauding duo. Shoving whatever they could into a single bag, they neglected to acknowledge the heat that began to rise in the building. It was on fire to begin with; but it was just spreading by the second. The flame ate away at the buildings around them, choking the whole area for life as the inferno went up. It corroded the wood so much so that a building next to the one they were standing in, a tower, no less, dropped a cornerstone. The lumber supports creaked and groaned as the building began to topple, spelling disaster for the two. The stone roofing and heavy machinery within crashed into the second floor, causing their loot to spill from their hands and be lost to the chaos. The thing they had immersed themselves in so much was about to claim them.
Groux and Erfaron were shaken up and disoriented, oblivious to what was happening to them. Hot embers and flames spat from the infernal rage burning the city, leaving their clothes covered in black dust and soot. Erfaron let out a cry while Groux scrambled to the other side of the building, waiting for the dust to settle. The bank was leaning up against a terrace of houses, now; slanted at an angle and daring to fall at any moment. A window was leaned perfectly against the row of houses, connecting the perfect escape route. Just as the dust cleared, Groux dared to look back. A Deathling whistle rang out around the area, signaling the come of a brigade. Regardless of it, they were so close that they could hear the clanking of steel against the stone of the city. Erfaron was still crying out in pain. He hadn't moved yet, for his hand was clamped in between the stone of the tower and the burning lumber of the building below.
The gruff rogue cursed out loud and sent spittle flying and sizzling into the flames around him, eyes darting around like a trapped animal looking for escape. The usually stoic Sanguine was on the verge of panic as he tried to sort through his reactions. Groux snapped out of his daze to lay his wide eyes on Erfaron. Thoughts of leaving his looting companion behind were heavily considered, but he instead opted to swiftly make his way over. His heartbeat pounded in his ears as he quickly assessed the situation and make a quick call, mind racing for a perfect solution. A stable hand made it's way down to pull a recently looted long knife from his belt. Hesitation was nearly non-existent as the part-Ailor hacked away at the Shendar's hand, sawing through bone to free him as if he were a fox in a fur trap. It was nowhere near clean business. Blood started to pool on the floor as the Shendar's screams fell on deaf ears, his knees trembling and falling to the floor as he collapsed. The once burned, scarred and emancipated hand now lay disconnected from his body; blood pouring from his wrist like a fountain, seeping into the wood below. His marital ring went with it, though it was of little concern.
Groux pulled the grey-skin Nelfin to his feet and practically tossed him through the open window, causing him to roll onto a rooftop and away from the flames. Groux took one last surveillance check before he threw himself out of the window too, hands and mind still shaking from the experience. They hadn't actually gained anything in the process, aside from the coins in their pockets. The heaviest thing on their shoulders was guilt and regret, in equal part. The opportunity they had so readily sought burned behind their backs. Their potential wealth, the future of their lives and security was all once more thrown back onto the gambling table.
