The night was dark & cold, the wind whistles between the buildings, and the moss huddled the walls, but men did not sleep. It was the night of the return of the Crimson Inquisition, and celebrations were being thrown in every Bar, Inn & Tavern in this fair city. Men, yelled and screamed on the top of their lungs, Ale spilling from their hands, boasting about their recent kills & skills in arms. Women were made to sit on their laps and play the ever sexist role of the Lady, in comforting the man as he drank his way to his bed.
A man fair-welled his friends, as him and his roommate made their way through the streets to their nearby estate. He continued to express how much he enjoyed the night, and spat words of dying vampires. It was a era that should of ended in the purity of the Human race, a town swept of the curse, but mankind did not take into account the numerous amounts of those cursed among them, so apon his menacing of their existence, his roommate stood still.
His eyes were red, bursting with the flame of anger, his arms kept tight, flexed to extremes, and as quick as the wind the roommate had made contact with the man.
Teeth fell to his neck, his eyes fixed on his chin, his hands capturing that of the mans arms removing him from the thoughts of escape. The adrenaline and shock had removed the man of all rational responses to call out or even yell.
He had put his faith in that of a figure of the night, of the plague, cursed to the evil thoughts of slaughtering, but who was to blame? The vampire for acting as his kind, or the man's stupidity for talking openly of such events?
(Basically, I just thought of this when learning that the Crimson was back and decided to add to the role-play of the Server by having a realistic story based on the responses of Humans & vampires to the Crimson.)
A man fair-welled his friends, as him and his roommate made their way through the streets to their nearby estate. He continued to express how much he enjoyed the night, and spat words of dying vampires. It was a era that should of ended in the purity of the Human race, a town swept of the curse, but mankind did not take into account the numerous amounts of those cursed among them, so apon his menacing of their existence, his roommate stood still.
His eyes were red, bursting with the flame of anger, his arms kept tight, flexed to extremes, and as quick as the wind the roommate had made contact with the man.
Teeth fell to his neck, his eyes fixed on his chin, his hands capturing that of the mans arms removing him from the thoughts of escape. The adrenaline and shock had removed the man of all rational responses to call out or even yell.
He had put his faith in that of a figure of the night, of the plague, cursed to the evil thoughts of slaughtering, but who was to blame? The vampire for acting as his kind, or the man's stupidity for talking openly of such events?
(Basically, I just thought of this when learning that the Crimson was back and decided to add to the role-play of the Server by having a realistic story based on the responses of Humans & vampires to the Crimson.)
