A Mercenary Among Merchants

[Mama Z]

Down two of them went, chasing after the girl much like Alice did while chasing the white rabbit. They even went as far as to follow the damned thing into the hole (and in his brothers case calling out some horrid cliche). Green eyes watched the darkness through the open way of the trap door, Jolene and Fortune were too far below for him to really spot. He shook his head, such fools for doing something so wreckless! Though at one time, he guessed he would have done the same, but that was long past and this was now. He was no fool, yet they were. A side glance was given to the only one left within the upstairs corridor. Seemed at least another had some sense.

A short laugh was given at her own annoyance. A sure nod was given and he couldnt help but let the tiniest of smiles grace his visable side of the face. Finally! Someone understood this was his home. 'Come,' He stated starting moving over the trap door and out another door, heading for the stage which held another trap door with at least a part of a group of stairs. Once again, his feet tred carefully. He counted footsteps in his head, knowing which floorboard squeezed and which ones were burnt away.

If anything could be seen, one would see him pause, a hand resting upon something rather low. 'Be careful your head here, this beam has long since fallen.' Making sure she didnt bang her head against it, he would proceed to move towards stage right, heading towards the center. 'The trap door they had fallen in connects to several of these.' He bent over one and with ease lifted it up. And since the henges were slightly rusted, lifted it off its marks. He growled as he looked at the burnt piece of door in his hands. 'Cursed place.'

[Aveilthé]

Almost forgetting that he could see through even perfect
darkness, his eyes immediately accustomed to it, and in
the back of his thick brain, he thought, "Oh!"

It didn't take too long for the vampire to hit the bottom.
His body met cold, hard, moist ground, but just as he
kerrsplutted, he was knocked out cold.

Thus, he lay upon the ground, looking as if he was fast
asleep, but in truth his head hit the ground, rather hard.
Being an immortal however, death was not a choice in this
matter, so he lived. A huge bump was created on the left
part of his head, however. His arms were strewn outward
in an odd manner, and his mouth hung open. His vampirish
fangs were partially exposed. Soon, drool began to rivulette
from the side of his mouth. He was definitely knocked out.

Five minutes from being knocked out cold, his throat soon
began to vibrate from a loud, obnoxious snore. It filled
the entire area and seem to ricochet off the many chamber
walls.

He indeed fell asleep.

[Felypsa]

December sighed in relief when Zayn ascertained that he knew his way around. We’ll go down and resolve this problem like normal, sensible people, she thought as she followed the vampire. Of course she was still wary of him. True, he was Fortuné’s brother, and had so far shown no harmful intent to any of them, but she knew Fortuné’s tendencies to change so suddenly. Even though Fortuné had assured her that she was seraphic enough to prevent a vampire-attack, she could not be sure the same standards applied to his older brother. So she followed, swiftly but cautiously, Imi ever by her side.

Zayn led her to a stage, where she ducked her head to avoid getting beaned by the lowered beam. Her eyes widened slightly when she saw the auditorium: she never suspected this house was an old performing center. Questions arose in her mind: what kind of theatre had this been? And why was only Zayn in charge of it now? She shook the questions out of her mind and concentrated on what the vampire was telling her.

“There seem to be quite a few trap doors and secret passageways,” she remarked. She said nothing behind that, though of course her mind was spinning with inquiries and speculations. She watched as Zayn lifted the old door on the stage, eyeing at the door’s rusted hinges and partly burnt wood. Burnt wood? Had there been a fire here? Just another query to her already buzzing mind.

December lowered Seraphim so the sword could shed light on the stairway below the stage. She grimaced, seeing nothing but dust, cobwebs, and darkness. “Would you mind going first?” she asked Zayn. “You can see far better than I, and I like to know where I’m going.” In the back of her mind, she was reminded of a phrase that her fellow mercenaries would jokingly say to one another: Age before beauty. It made her smile very faintly in reminiscence, but she snapped back to the present. “Plus, you know these passages well, I’m assuming.” She did a little bow, flourishing Seraphim. There was no irony in her respectful salute. “Please, lead the way.”

[Mama Z]

He listened to her, making sure she did not fall far behind or that she would fall and prehaps hurt herself. 'Every house has its secrets.' He commented shortly after her own observation. 'I just happen to know all of them.' After letting her inspect the the corridor and back off, he couldn't help but be slightly amused. A woman was a woman no matter how strong they appeared. As bowed, he too ducked his head, 'As the lady wishes.'

Here, the vampire moved down to the stairwell. There was a sound of his footsteps then a loud thud. The steps had abruptly ended, having since broken apart half way down. He paused and turned, 'Would you like some help?' He questioned, the jump wasnt too far down, but in the dark it tended to be a bit deeper. Even with him, after traveling up and down this very passageway many times, he still got unsure of himself on how far he would fall.

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[Aveilthé]

OOC: Ooookay, so I thought about this for a while, and I hope you don't mind if I "control" Zayn through Fortuné's dreams, Z. ^-^; I'm sure you wouldn't, but ne... just read. Hehe. If you are bothered by it, just tell me and I can change this, I don't want to break any rules, let alone 'step' into your boundaries so to speak. ^^;

A kind of caliginous dream swept over Fortuné, as he lay
sprawled like an eagle. He was taken back many moons ago,
back when he was a much younger lad, but looked pretty much
the same as he looked now.

There was the young fellow, human in every way, and as happy
as can be. Fortuné had been leading three horses
back to their stalls from his father's orders, and usually never
too keen upon taking orders from most people, this lad was
way too delighted about something to be angry. Just then,
a woman stepped into Fortuné's midst.

She was a pretty lady, comely in her elegant emerald satin
dress, with her hair tied back in many rich green ribbons. She
had chestnut brown hair, that curled gracefully about her
shoulders. She looked just like Fortuné.

"Mother," said the lad, grinning as he patted one of the horse's
sweaty necks.

"Fortuné," said she, smiling at her son, "when you are done with
that, come inside and wash up." And with that, she stepped over
to her son and planted a kiss upon his cheek before turning
about and sweeping across the broad green yard to the great
manor. As Fortuné simply stood there rather stupidly, a figure
from beneath a shadowed tree stepped out.

"Mama's boy," said the deep voice, and Fortuné rolled his eyes
as he continued walking over to the barn where the stalls lay.

"Get out of it, Zayn," he retorted, not even bothering to glance
at his brother. Once he stepped into the barn, he already
proceeding undressing the three horses, then put them into
their solitary abode. Fortuné, completely dirty from roughing
it up during the day, felt that a good wash would be nice. He
was not one to stay completely dirty for long; it bothered him
a great deal. Zayn however, would not be hindered. He stepped
up by his brother and steadied his pace with him, and did not
let his eyes stray from the Fortuné.

"They say there is something that attacks people during the
night," Zayn began, sheilding his eyes from the sun as the two
stepped up a small hill that led to the house.

"Oh?" said Fortuné, his interest piqued. He'd swivel his head
around to look at Zayn, the better to listen.

"Mmm, yes. Have you not heard the news? Word has been
going around... the ole taylor that use to live down the lane...
Not a trace of him found, poor fellow; save for the blood that
lined the walls of his shack. Alas, they say that the creature
that killed it is not an animal, but is not human, either."

"Interesting," Fortuné mused, placing his fingers to his chin,
doing 'The Thinker'.

"Of course, he left behind three daughters and a son that is
on the way," said Zayn, finding this information very heavy
indeed.

"Ahh! You mean that one daughter that is finishing school like
I am?" replied Fortuné, a dreamy look filming over his eyes
along with a stupid grin flitting across his handsome features.

"You dodo-brain," growled Zayn, hitting his brother across the
head. "Pay attention!" Fortuné rubbed his head, going 'owe,
owe' as they neared the great white house that was their home.
"As I was saying," he began once more, praying for patience as
Fortuné started nudging him playfully, "the government of our
state is holding a bounty on the creature's head. Whoever kills
it and brings it back, will get more than what this house is worth,
because this creature did not just kill the ole taylor. Many were
found dead... at least every other night."

Fortuné, now dumbstruck, simply gaped at his brother. "Why,
that could help save our family from bankruptcy, with that
money!"

"Indeed," said Zayn, "which is why I want to track the creature
down myself."

"Are you mad?" Fortuné yelled, stopping in his tracks as they
stepped upon the threshold of the strong chestnut wooden
door. "You want to go after something that is potentially
dangerous--"

"--is already dangerous," said Zayn, leering at Fortuné.
They both stood rooted for a few moments. "And like you said,
dear brother, that money can help save our home, and allow
you to finish school so you can live happily like every other
cursed human being on this planet."

"If that's the case, I won't finish school," moaned Fortuné.

"Fool," said Zayn, wanting to laugh in his brother's face. "Don't
even worry about it. You forget how awesome my abilities are
with weaponry. I can hit a target quicker than you can, and
trap anything or anyone that stands in my way." With that, Zayn
stepped back a few paces. "Go inside, I will be away, but do not
pressure our family of where I have gone - simply say I am out,
to perhaps scrounge a few coins, which is almost completely
true." And with that, Zayn gave a rich, whistling call, and from
the trees galloped a pure white stallion, already packed with
saddle, bridle, and all of which was needed to go on a journey.
As the great horse stepped up to Zayn, nuzzling his shoulder,
he stepped onto the stirrup and easily mounted the beautiful
creature.

"I won't be too long. Farewell." And like lightning, Zayn and his
horse rode off into the horizon, where the sun had already
started to set.

Fortuné breathed a farewell before turning around to walk inside.
His heart felt like lead, but as the night continued on, the lad
told his mother and father what Zayn wished him to tell.

"Oh, that's lovely of him," said his mother, a soft smile spreading
about her face.

"He does so much for this family... he sacrifices time..." said
his father, scratching his beard as he was reading the evening
paper.

Fortuné simply stood there, unclean, staring at his parents
with doubt and despair.

"What ails you, my son?" said Mother, as she stood up and
hugged him.

"Nothing... nothing..."

"Why did you not go with your older brother?" said his father's
booming voice after a while. "You could help him, you know."

Fortuné looked wounded as his father lashed out at him, but he
didn't say anything. Instead, he turned around and left, heading
up a grand winding staircase to the baths above, quietly
reflecting the past events.

[Felypsa]

December smirked when Zayn mentioned he knew all the secrets of this house. He must have lived here for an awfully long time to have learned them all…“Thank you,” she said sincerely when he took the lead. Oh, the darkness made her feel so hatefully helpless. She followed him cautiously, with Imi had her side, preparing to hoot in warning in case she made a misstep.

She stopped when Zayn stopped. He offered to help her down, and while she couldn’t see what the problem was, it was surely something she didn’t want to handle alone. It seemed as if the stairs ended…meaning they would have to jump. December was not afraid, but she was relieved that Zayn had made the effort to help her. “Yes, I think that would be a good idea,” she said. “Thank you.” Unsure if he could see it, she gave him a grateful look.

Unfortunately, if she was about to jump, she would have to sheathe Seraphim. That made her uneasy, for it was the only light she had, not to mention the only defense. But she had to trust Zayn. He’d given her no reason not to so far. She closed her eyes and slowly slid the sword into its sheath on her back. Imi would help her and warn her if need be. December didn’t like having to totally rely on others, but at least they were both trustworthy…

“Let’s do this and get it over with,” she said, stepping towards where she thought Zayn was. “Though, I’m sure we don’t have to worry. Fortuné probably knocked himself out somehow, but I’ll bet he’s fine.” And with luck, that blonde has hit her head on a rock and gotten amnesia and forgotten everything, she added silently. Dunno about Jolene though…stars, that girl is worth more trouble…but I should have expected that from a street urchin…

[Mama Z]

That night was the night everything had changed for the worst. Zayn of course was over confident, but with good reason. A child born with a deformed face always had to strive to be better, to have people overlook the horror which plagued him night and day. He worked hard, for his honor and for his parents honor, but not just for his parents or those around him. He strived to be number one in the eyes of his grandparents. Though he was indeed the oldest sibling and more responsible for carrying the bloodline, his Grandfather and Grandmother always treated Fortune as the goldenchild, he didnt have to try and always reassured Zayn that they were nothing. But for Zayn, their own opinion meant the world, they were family; they were blood.

That night as Zayn departed, he thought that this was finally his time. His time to shine above to rest. Deformaities aside, he would no be an equal. Equal with his brother, among other men, and along with musicians. Oh it was his time alright, his time to die and be reborn as a completely different being.

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He waited for her patiently, as he did with most (haha almost said moth) in the past. Green eyes watched as the holy sword disappeared into his resting place. A fast breath moved past his lips, finally, he could relax fully without that the light weighing down upon his spirit. Sonn, the darkness was no longer a mystery to his blind eyes and he reached up and forward with gloved hands.

So as not to startle her too much, he allowed her hand to tap his. Once assured that if she touched and was safe with it, he would gently clutch both of her hands within his. 'Place your hands on my shoulders,' He would instruct, once that was done his hands would grab her waist, assuring that she wont fall and that no matter what he would catch her. 'Whenever you are ready.' He stated quietly.

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[Aveilthé]

OOC: Okie, I take over silly Rosaline now.

Rosaline was weeping uncontrollably in the still, silent dark.
The dark frightened her, because she could not see through
it. She could, however, feel. The walls felt incredibly damp
against her frail fingers. She simply had to find a way
out of here, out of all this mess, to reach her handsome
lover. The thought of being in his arms calmed her some,
thus her tears soon ebbed. She'd part her lips some and
call for him softly, though she did not know his name;
she repeated the same word he spoke from the broken
trapdoor she fell through somewhere high above.

The vampire was still lying upon the damp, hard floor, undoubtedly
knocked out. His snores still yet filled the halls as loud as a
chainsaw, or perhaps a fat lion's purr, or maybe even a drunk
human consuming one-too-many of December's whiskey. Yet
we are taken to another one of his dream-journeys - and yes,
vampires do dream! And though Rosaline's cry for him became
much louder, he was as vague as the distant nebula billions
of miles away in the far heavens.

Thus we begin, where we have left off from the last scene,
when Zayn left his family to pursue that of greater things,
that indeed ended up being his greatest downfall.

Fortuné was sleeping upon a beautiful bed, seemingly sprawled
like he is presently in the dank chambers. Quite
suddenly, a shattering wail was heard downstairs. Fortuné
woke up in an instant, snapping up in a sitting position and
looking around vigorously, his long wavy locks bouncing about
his young, handsome face.

"Wazz...urg?" he mumbled, rubbing his eyes. Tearing the
white sheets off his being, he slid off his bed. He wore
a nightshirt and simple white pants. Scratching his head,
he stumbled towards the door, where he opened it quietly.
Another wail filled the house, thus making Fortuné alive
completely. He covered his ears some, and slowly crept
his way towards the grand wooden railing of the staircase.
He peered downwards, his hands holding on to the rails,
and saw his mother clutching the chair with two men at her
side.

At first Fortuné thought these men were attacking her,
but they simply stood there, solemnly bowing their heads
in her direction. Fortuné looked around; his father was
sitting at a desk, his face burried in his hands.

"I am sorry," said one of the men, dressed in dark clothing.

"My son! My son is DEAD!" she screamed, beating the floor
pitifully, shouting at the top of her lungs.

The men bent down and consoled her, picking her sopping figure
up and sitting her down with her husband.

Fortuné, hearing all this, felt his heart tear into many pieces.
His facial features became hardened, and he immediately felt
his tonsils burning. He slid down and fell to his knees.

My brother...? he thought, hardly believing this. I must be
dreaming. Please, tell me this is a dream!

"Zayn has died while attempting to pursue what was known
as a vampire," said one of the men gently, finding it hard to say
these words. "We are almost sure he has died while trying to
kill it. His body was not found."

Fortuné staggered back violently. The noise caused everyone
below to look up, but Fortuné did not stop. He ran straight to
his room. He dressed immediately. From his closet, he took a
sword - a silver one, and magnificent, for it was a family
heirloom. It was supposed to belong to Zayn, but Fortuné
stole it from his brother; not out of spite, but more so a childish
game.

Tying the hilt at his belt, he took the many sheets from his bed
and began making a rope. He then tied it to his bed post, and
flung it down the window. It did not reach all the way down.
Alas, he would not let that hinder him! Thus, he took the rope
in his hands, and began climbing down, though with clumsiness
and difficulty. He was, after all, human.

Once he reached the end of the rope, he looked down with
large eyes. "Oh my, oh my," he breathed softly, and closing
his eyes tight, he released himself from the rope. Down he fell,
but it wasn't a long fall. Once he was down, he stood up and
moaned quietly, taking his left boot off and clutching his toes
saying, "Ow, ow!" With that (and of course he put his boot
on), he went straight for the barn with a serious air and
took one of the horses that he had rode earlier during the day.
Mounting his russet steed, he rode off, in the direction that his
brother went.

He spoke silently to himself as he rode in the moonlight, following
a semi-lit path through the wilderness. "I'll avenge you, Zayn,"
he growled, tightening his grip on the reigns from his horse
he called 'Meadow-flower'.

[Felypsa]

oOc| I love how no one wants to take over Rosaline, and she keeps getting passed around to someone else...lmao! December's whiskey...or was it vodka? xD can't remember, lol.



December closed her eyes and took a deep breath as her hand quested to find Zayn’s. Once she did, her eyes flew open, for Zayn had taken both her hands into his own. December had to fight her defensive instinct and follow his instuctions. She put her hand on his shoulders, hesitantly at first, then more firmly once she realized how this was going to preserve her safety. She tensed as he wrapped his arms around her waist, but forced herself to relax. Don’t be stupid, December, she told herself. He’s not trying to take advantage of you or anything ridiculous like that. He may be a vampire, but he’s Fortuné’s brother, and we’re in this together. He won’t suck your blood. Besides, he wouldn’t like the taste of seraphic blood. Just be calm, and do what he’s doing.

Still, December couldn’t help but notice how close they were. If he meant harm, he would’ve done something already, she said to herself. Be calm. Imi’s here. Nothing is going to happen. “Right,” she said softly. “I am ready. Let’s go.” She tried to keep her voice at its usual gruffness, to hide the uncertainty she was feeling. I really think I’d rather be with Fortuné…at least I can handle him, keep him from trying anything. But his brother…I hardly know him. He’s completely different. He’s unknown. I don’t like the way he makes me so unsure, the way he erodes my confidence. But December shoved all these thoughts out of her mind.

Once they made the inevitable jump, December would close her eyes, even though it made no difference; she couldn’t see whether her eyes were open or closed. She would only think, midair, I cannot wait till I feel the solid ground beneath my feet. Behind her, keeping watch as always, the ever-observant Imi-owl flew silently behind the two jumpers. No harm would come to her mistress as long as she was around.

[Mama Z]

The Phantom waited briefly, letting her gather her own courage. Once he felt she was prepared, he counted to three. On three he kept a hold of her and pretty much let her fall to the floor safely. Making sure she was settled on the ground properly, he released his hold on her. 'This way.' He instructed, starting to walk, though he would pause just briefly if she wished to draw her sword out so she could see.

'Fortune!' He called ahead in the tunnel, listening to his echoing voice then the sound of some wood creaking from the sudden excitement. He then thought briefly and glanced over his shoulder. 'Who were the other two?' He asked, not sure he had recieved any names. ANd if he had, must have already forgotten.

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[Aveilthé]

OOC: Longass post, man. Sorry. But enjoy it anyway or I'll have Zayn *copyright* Punjab lasso you. *copyright*

A voice was heard, and a strong one at that, through the tunnel, and saying 'Fortuné!'

She called out in sweet tones as a reply. "Help me! I've no clue
as to where I am. I cannot see, and I'm very filthy; perhaps there
is a mass of water nearby, for my clothes are quite damp!"
Contrary to belief, the damsel was not too picky of her clothes.
'Be greatful of the things you have on your back,' her
grandfather once said to her when she was a wee lass. Thus,
the idea had always been her attitude, but as a lady she loved
to lavish herself in pretty gowns for special occassions.

Rosaline steadily took off her crimson heels and tossed them
aside. They hurt her delicate feet terribly, and they would be no
more of use in this place. She felt tears brim her eyes again.
Now, she was really frightened. She had been sitting here, clearing
her head, and wondered what ill news may soon ring in her ears
of her lover. Questions encircled her head as to why that
astoundingly intimidating pirate-looking lass with the pet bird
was hounding him. Was this lady an assassine, working plans to
kill him?

Yet that deep, rich voice she heard, was very much astoundingly
alluring, much like her love's violin from 'The Knight Pup'.

Rosaline also wondered why the man was calling for Fortuné. He
didn't call her name. Perhaps... yes... Fortuné had fallen
for her! But to be back with her, no doubt! Excitement coursed
through her veins as she scrambled up to her feet, not minding
the party dress she was wearing. She felt inclined to take the
rich ruby-red overcoat dress off of her shoulders. With that,
she layed that aside, revealing a simple white dress that displayed
cleavage. She removed the red ribon from her hair, thus allowing
her thick golden locks to be free and bounce about as they so
pleased her, yet they fell long at least, dangling from her shoulders
to her lower back. She shook her head a bit; now she felt quite
comfortable.

Briefly wiping her unblemished forehead with her head, she stood
up once more, and began to clumsily creep through the tunnels
until she was once more back to where the broken trapdoor
hung, mocking all below. And lying sprawled, rightly snoring,
was Fortuné.

"Oh, heavens!" Bursting into tears, Rosaline picked up her white
dress as so it would not drag, and scurried her petite feet to
Fortuné's side. Fortuné looked straight up at her, though with his
eyes closed, and a constant comical snore vibrated through his
teeth. Rosaline did not know whether to laugh or cry, for her
musician was certainly a comical sight, but she found herself
wanting to just cry. She placed her fingers about his head, and
found a pretty good sized bump on the top of his head.

"Darling," she called, taking Fortuné's broad shoulders and shaking
him slightly, though Fortuné continued to sleep soundly as if
nothing hindered him at all.

"Please wake up?" She gently laid him down, gingerly taking
the many peices of damp hair from his face and lying the strands
with the rest of his wavy hair. Crying silently to herself, she
placed her golden head on his stomach, and rested there.

Fortuné was still quite fast asleep. That bump must've hit the
poor vampire pretty hard, but it looks like he will not awaken
until dawn makes it's farewell and dusk makes it's hello, for those
were the hours that a vampire must sleep then awaken, or be
cursed to have unremitting fire eat away at the skin once displayed
by even the tiniest of raylight. In Fortuné's vampire experiences,
he had to endure the sun on his face for many months until he
gruellingly found places to sleep and be forced to sleep by day
and walk alive at night.

Yet Fortuné still dreams, for it's still a long dream indeed, and
perhaps one of which will climax soon, regardless of how much
a reader has enjoyed reading the pointless visions in the
silly vampire's head.

Honestly, nobody wants to ever know what goes on in such
dusty, creaking compartments belonging to that of this fine,
strapping young-looking vampire.

Thus, Fortuné rode, and quite fast too, on his russet horse
Meadow-flower.

He would come to pass through cities, where he would heavily
inquire about this creature that stalks in the dark and sleeps in
the day, and of course it was already learned to him from much
earlier that it was known as a 'Vampire', and a creature to be
feared above all else, for if bitten by one, that individual would
pass on to be as such. The thought terrified Fortuné to no end,
but he simply refused to back down.

It happened when Fortuné was sleeping once more, snoring
rather obnoxiously, in one of the many inns of this city that was
far inland of Escavas, that a raging cry sprouted from the cobbled
dark streets from outside his window. Fortuné's eyes flashed
open, and he thrashed the covers from his being, and tumbled
out of bed. He dashed bare-foot to the window and opened it,
receiving a wave of furling cold snow and bitterly frigid winter's air,
and the shouting coming from various people grouped together
at the alley below. A street gaslamp was near, towering above the
agitated, crying citizens. Fortuné shielded his eyes from the bright
light, for it stood right next to his window, and he called down.

"Oy, may it be too bold for me to ask what all this shouting is
about? Tis 3:55 in the morning!"

Fortuné had to shout a bit, for he was getting angry that
the people below were too flustered and gibbering about
something. Finally one of the men, a hunched fellow with a
monocle, turned and looked up at Fortuné.

"The Night-Stalker has just killed six young girls, their bodies
are gone yet their blood remains," he said cryptically.

Fortuné gasped from this shock and closed his window. He
once again took all that was needed for a warm attire, took
a heavy coat, and dashed from the inn for the stables. With that,
he took Meadow-flower, and clopped up to the man.

"Can anybody tell me where this Night-Stalker is?" he growled,
pulling the reigns of his horse to a halt.

"None know," said one of the sobbing women. Looking around,
more people had come and inquired as to what happened;
it seemed as if the whole town was waking up to the sudden
commotion occuring outside.

"The vampire," said another elderly lady, "aye, heard of him, I did,
and that demon is taking what he can--"

"--but to know where the creature dwells, that tis out of the
question," said a strapping middle-aged man that held a person
who looked like his wife. "Some say he dwells in his estate upon
a great mountain miles from here, where his halls are dark and
where greater hellish magicks thrive."

"You should not know this young lad," said another man,
walking up to the boy. "Unless you wish to find it and kill it..."

"That is precisely what I want to do," said Fortuné sadly,
clutching his heart. "The damned beast killed my brother,
and now he's killed six girls, and not only that... He will come
for more, and I will stop him from killing any more people, and
'tis not for the money!"

"Oh my son, you are barking mad!" said the strapping middle-aged
fellow. "The best we all should do is to avoid it..."

Fortuné had heard enough. "I will find this estate of the vampire
and kill him," he shouted, unsheathing his sword. "I won't rest
until I have my revenge."

"The six girls, were my daughters," said the middle-aged man,
attempting hard to control his tears but to no avail. "I would so
kill him myself--"

"Then come with me, and let us avenge those we love," Fortuné
said rather roughly.

And without another word said, the middle-aged man, that called
himself Ron, took up another horse, that was grey, and rode off
with Fortuné.

"Mad, am I?" called Fortuné roughly through the flurry of snow
to his companion.

"Nay, simply more ideal," Ron replied, yet quite glad to partake
in this perilous journey to find the vampire's estate and to destroy
him.

Thus, days went by, as they escaped the cooler part of Escavas
and reached a rainy city that was very much farther inland from
the coast. The two men were quiet, contemplating their own
thoughts of what was to happen. Fortuné held Zayn's sword,
admiring it's glistening white steel and rune-shaped markings.
The hilt was of fine leather, and extremely heavy to wield.

Indeed, the two men were quiet. They were two strangers
wanting to avenge those they both loved most, and would both
die to save them - even if it was false hope, or too late. Through
the rain, they trumped their horses on a fairly muddy pathway
through very thinning trees.

"Lets say we stop elsewhere," said the very worn-out Fortuné.

"You say this! Alas, I say we kip up here, as there is not an inn
for many miles more."

With that, the two men camped, but hardly spoke to one another.
Fortuné burnt himself three times while trying to start a fire. The
older man took pity and helped the lad. Pretty soon a roaring fire
came to life. They added shelter quite quickly, too. In no time,
the two men fell asleep, of course with Fortuné's terribly
obnoxious snoring.

[Felypsa]

December opened her eyes when they landed, letting out all the breath she’d been holding during the jump. Behind her, she heard a soft hooting, almost of amusement, and Imi caught up with her. She glared at the tiny owl. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” she muttered. Imi merely blinked her large eyes innocently.

The mercenary looked at Zayn and realized how dark it was. She immediately drew forth Seraphim, letting its holy glow slice through the darkness. She followed him, recalling how he had easily released her once they’d landed. Not the gentlest with women, she thought, but what difference does it make? Despite his obvious affection for Fortuné, she felt she could not trust him beyond their joint effort to find the hapless vampire. If it weren’t for Fortuné…would we be enemies? She could not be sure.

“Jolene was the urchin-girl,” December responded. “But I never learned the name of that foolish blonde whom Fortuné is so taken with. I don’t even think he knows, the fop.” But she, too, raised her voice and called out through the darkness and uneasy silence, “Jolene! Fortuné! It’s us, December and Zayn!” At Imi’s indignant hoot, December added, “And Imi! If you are there, please respond!”

She deliberately moved Seraphim around so she could better see their surroundings. There wasn’t much to see. Just dust and cobwebs and the occasional rat, which December ignored but which Imi would dive at, despite the fact that some of them were as big as her or even bigger. Suddenly Seraphim’s light caught off some glimmering object. December, puzzled, bent down to pick it up. It was a jagged shard of a…“Mirror?” she asked, forehead creased in perplexity.

She set it down and moved forward, sweeping her sword out in front of her. This revealed more and more mirror shards, so many that there had to have been more than one single mirror down here. “Why are there all these mirrors down here, and why are they all shattered into pieces?” December asked out loud, though she was speaking mostly to herself.

[Mama Z]

The urchin that December must have been refering to was probably the first one to dive deep into the darkness. But he was slightly curious as to what she had said next. He glanced behind him, a brow arched slightly. But what she said sounded like his brother, one to fall for something so pretty without thinking. He remembered a certain school boy crush Fortune had on a girl who could barely say his name, let alone spell it. To further answer the vampires question, he had aquired the one who was currently traveling with him. GOod, would save him the grief of asking for it later.

He continued to walk on, only bothering to slow down slightly as she fell behind. Indeed, the light of her sword reflected off the various shards of glass. He meerly glanced down and frowned at the still fresh memories of what had happened here. 'Some stories are better left untold, my dear.' He said quietly as he walked on, ignoring the occasional crunch of burnt would and broken mirrors.

He was growing slightly frustrated with the prolonged silence, but then a womans voice answered theres in return and Zayn once again picked up the pace. Faintly he could see there outlines. Finally. He thought witha sigh of relief and happy they decided not to travel further into the depths of this old theater.

[/color][/center]

[Aveilthé]

After a few minutes, Rosaline picked up her pretty head and looked
down at Fortuné's face. Oh, he was so handsome, with his fair
skin and chestnut wavy hair; thick lips, perfectly straight nose,
and a chin that will make any girl swoon. She looked to the left,
then looked to the right; nobody was around. Well, of course not!

Rosaline's heart began to flutter as she looked upon her lover.
Slowly, she began to pucker her lips and descend to his sleeping,
still face.

The call of which December had made was very loud. It
reverberated throughout half of the chambers. Thus, the name
'Fortuné!' successfully reached the pair of dunderheads that were
about to kiss. At least, one of them was making an attempt.

Fortuné's eyes snapped wide open at his name. He jerked up
so suddenly, squabbling like a maniac; and in the process, he
hit his head on Rosaline's forehead. Fortuné fell back upon the
floor and fell asleep immediately; or, perhaps, he was simply
knocked out again. Rosaline, on the other hand, coiled
back and proceeded nursing her forehead, sputtering various
'ow, ow!'s. Later on, a large bruise procurred there, but she
forgave Fortuné instantly. It wasn't his fault. She loved him so.

After a few moments of slumber, Fortuné's mind once again drifted
back to his memories of his early life. Yes, sorry, but the reader
must again endure the painfulness of reading long post. But
Fortuné says, "Get over it!"

Thus we fall back again to Fortuné and his companion, Ron, both
of whom began to wake up in the early morning. They both
packed up, and mounted their horses, and rode off once more.

Their journey remained long still, for they were trying to find the
fabled estate of which the vampire supposedly lived in.

"This vampire may live anywhere," groaned the very exhausted
Fortuné as nightfall started to approach.

"Aye," sighed the irritated Ron, for he had to endure a whole day
of Fortuné's complaining and endless questions which obviously
started to become very irksome.

"Do you suppose that the vampire really does live in the dark?"
wondered Fortuné out loud.

"Aye," sighed Ron again.

Fortuné put his fingers to his chin as he did 'The Thinker'.
"Do you suppose this vampire only comes out at night?"

"Aye," growled Ron, praying for peace.

"D'you suppose--"

"Look, lad," began the tired middle-aged man, "I have many
questions too, but for the love of all that is good, please keep
quiet."

"Forgive me," Fortuné moaned, embarassed.

"There's nothin' to forgive," Ron said, giving Fortuné a small smile.
The lad was only still young, perhaps in his early twenties, and
still possessed the childlike youth that even his eldest daughter
possessed. Ron began to think quietly to himself, particularly
since the image of all six daughters came into his mind, and he
felt himself shed a few tears, that thankfully, Fortuné missed.

It was about an hour or so of traveling that soon Fortuné started
nodding in his sleep, as he was trying to stay awake, but to no
avail - his snoring filled the woods of which they were riding
through. Ron stepped up by Fortuné and nudged him impatiently.
Fortuné ceased snoring some.

Ron took out a small flask and drank deeply from it. It helped keep
him awake. He took Meadow-flower's reigns and tied it to a part
of his own grey's saddle, so Meadow-flower wouldn't drift off
elsewhere with her rider asleep.

It was at that moment that a faint noise met his ears. He looked
up instantly, his brows furrowed some. A kind of melodic voice
sang in his ears. It sounded so... so... There was absolutely no
word for it!

Somewhere in the distance through the wintry trees, an owl
hooted softly. The half-moon in the sky shone down through the
bare branches of every tree. An eerie wind whistled through
the barks, and teased Ron's semi-whiskery face.

He slowed to a halt, straining to listen for the voice in the distance.
Both horses pawed the earth nervously; they absolutely hated
the voice!

Fortuné's eyes fluttered open, and he slowly rose himself up, then
yawned. In mid-yawn, he heard the voice.

Both men were quiet. The voice belonged to a woman. After a
moment, Fortuné spoke. "My word, that voice is--"

"Hush," Ron snapped. "Let's ride forth a bit. Leave your horse;
they seem to not want to move..."

With that, they both left their horses tied to a tree, but the poor
animals were softly nickering for their masters to come back.
Both were absolutely terrified. Fortuné, being a huge softie,
came back and patted both the horse's necks and cooed into their
ears. Both relaxed some, but Meadow-flower bit at Fortuné's
sleeve. She didn't want him to go. "Ahh, easy," said Fortuné,
rubbing the mare's forehead. "We won't be long."

"Fortuné!" hissed Ron. "Are you coming or not?"

"Aye, wait for me!" replied the idiot boy.

They both trudged easily through the woods, straining their
eyes in the darkness to find the source of the voice. The voice
seemed to surround them. Both Fortuné and Ron were enraptured
by the song that their phantom-woman was creating, but where
was she?

[Felypsa]

December then noticed the pieces of burnt wood, and remembered the similarly burnt trapdoor they had entered in. She frowned, accepting his response for now but still terribly curious. Something happened…something burned this place and also shattered these mirrors. I hope to find out soon. I dislike unsolved mysteries. But she said no more on the subject, respecting Zayn’s evident feelings on the matter.

She paused when he called her “my dear,” but let it go. He is acting like a gentleman of old, she thought. They were so much more courteous and polite than today’s men. She briefly recalled her early mercenary days, and the males she had to deal with then. Raucous and ribald, the lot of them. She actually grinned at the memory; though they had been obnoxious, they nevertheless had a certain kind of charm. And at least they weren’t clueless like Fortuné nor darkly distant like Zayn. And they weren’t vampires.

December thought she heard something in addition to the initial response that Zayn had heard. She heard a very soft clunk, and then murmured gasps of pain. She quickly oriented on the sound, pointing Seraphim in the general direction. “Imi,” she said softly. Her companion flew past her and changed into a tiny bat. Sound would be even more effective in finding Fortuné and his ingénue than sight, since Zayn wasn’t having too much luck.

With a soft whoosh, the mockingbird-changed-bat vanished into the darkness. She used her echolocation to pick up the vibrations of Rosaline’s quiet agonized grumbles, and even the soft snores of the sleeping vampire. Typical. Once Imi found them, she fluttered back to where December stood with Zayn. She squeaked to let them know of her success, and began to lead them both to where she’d found them. Imi did not know where Jolene was; but once she led December and Zayn to the others, she herself would go off looking for the urchin girl.