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Cradle of Gods - The Seventh Anarchy

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TheNohen roaming, lurking, arguing from Leipzig, Saxony Since: Feb, 2016 Relationship Status: Complex: I'm real, they are imaginary
roaming, lurking, arguing
#1: Aug 13th 2022 at 5:02:29 AM

Seven little orphans are running down the street
First gets lost and disappears
Second gets caught by what he fears
Third is bleeding, on the floor
Fourth is drinking, all the more
Fifth is crying, without sound
Sixth is lying, on the ground
One little orphan is standing in the street...
Selling you fresh Rousson-Meat..
Fresh Meat
Defiled Meat
Our Meat


Snow fell down on the old Cathedral des Invalides. It settled down on its broken roof. Coating the reliefs and statues that lined its decrepit walls, hiding their worn features under a blanket, like ones closed the eyes of a cold corpse. Their regal features long worn away, leaving behind only grey edifices of a piety long lost. The glorious saints and the accursed defiled now joined together, equally forgotten. Light and Dark creeping through the broken windows and crumbled walls in equal measure, drawing long shadows in the ruin.

No one came anymore to this abandoned place of worship. It stood here, forgotten, like it wanted to serve as a representation of the abandoned streets of Jesâule Ward. People in Rousson would say that it was the Great Fire's fault, when it burned through the houses and laid waste to nearly the entire ward in a single night, all those years ago.

But Jesâule Ward had been dying before that. Too isolated, too remote, too poor. When the fire came, it merely arrived as the sad end of a neighbourhood that already been decaying. The Night Guard torching it down had been perhaps a mercy, one might say.

Now, very few people lived here. The ruins were squeezed in between the rich Inner and the bustling Outer Wards. One couldn't reach it, unless they followed winding streets and dark alleyways, that curled in of themselves in this labyrinth of buildings torn down and build up over and over, until all sense of direction had been lost within the hands of literal Cycles of halfhearted attempts to retain this place. A pocket of isolation, in a city spilling over with bodies and blood.

There was little here, except for the old Cathedral, the cold light of the moon and the white snow.

One snowflake trailed down the open dome of this once holy ruin. It danced and jumped, as if trying to slow down its descent just for a few seconds more. Twinkling in the light of the eternal night that kept this city of Rousson in its grasp, it managed to slip by the scorched, wooden beams of the ceiling, missed the dusty chandelier, whose candles had never been lit, and avoided joining its many brothers and sisters on the cold floor.

It would not fall into the still wet blood on the stone, which drew wide in a perfect circle before crossing itself over and over into a manic pattern. It did not melt under the heat of the flickering candles, that were scattered on the floor, unmoored from their positions around the circle and now dying a slow death in the snow.

No, the snowflake instead fell upon an outstretched hand, which had seemingly waited for its arrival. It was cradled within the palm. For a brief moment, it rested there. Immaculate, cold and untouched by everything around it.

Then it melted and was no more.

...

The fingers twitched. A breath was drawn.

And the Bloodlords woke up.

Edited by TheNohen on Aug 13th 2022 at 2:03:17 PM

drearyArchon Divine Basement Dweller from Somewhere Beneath The World Since: Apr, 2022 Relationship Status: Is that a kind of food?
Divine Basement Dweller
#2: Aug 13th 2022 at 7:00:30 AM

Katherine

When Katherine woke up, she was in so much pain. Her everything hurt and ached and felt colder than when she spent a night under the snow. Even her throat felt-

Katherine's arm rose up and felt her throat. The smooth skin she was used to now feels leathery. It reminded her of those times she poked and prodded the scar tissue of whatever new bodyguard her Mother sent her to annoy them. She tried forcing out words or even just sounds, but her voice sounded pained and faint, and her throat stung whenever she tried to make so much as a peep.

Her voice was gone.

Shit shit shit shit shit.

Her voice was gone!

A feeling of dread overcame Katherine when she considered who might've wanted to steal her voice from her. The only person who came to mind was her Mother, who had finally tired of her dreams and impulsive nature and wanted to drag Katherine back into her grip.

Katherine got up and looked down at herself, forcing away the aches and pains to figure out what had happened to her. She was only wearing a tunic rather than her usual hunting attire, and her throat and upper torso were covered in scars. Katherine doubted she could've survived whatever had done all of this to her. If anything, she should be lying dead in a pool of her own entrails.

The realization was calming in a macabre way. After all, if Mother wanted her dead, then she'd just use poison or a knife to her heart. Mother always hated messes, especially when she's supposed to be 'cleaning them up,' as it were.

With that grim thought in mind, Katherine looked around and found herself lying in an old, ruined cathedral. While she was the first to wake, several others were passed out on the ground and beginning to stir.

Katherine briefly considered leaving everyone else to whatever Cursed had probably brought them to this place but decided against it. If whoever had done this wanted to kill them, they would've done so already.

Katherine approached one of the fallen figures, a girl. As she does so, Katherine becomes aware of an odd feeling in her mind. It felt... visceral. The rushing of blood, the beating of a heart, the rush of lightning beneath the skin. It was all of that and more. Somehow, she could tell that the feeling was coming from the girl, from everyone around her.

"What the hell?" Katherine said, the sound of her thoughts resounding in the heads of everyone around her.

Everyone's just doing the best that they can.
Taco Since: Jan, 2001
#3: Aug 13th 2022 at 5:58:44 PM

Dr. Robert Ward

It was maybe telling on himself that the first thing Robert did when he regained consciousness face-down was to scrabble forwards, assuming he needed to move. He slept on his back, waking up face-down was, always, a sign he'd... overindulged. Quite a disappointment that he'd allowed his dark passenger free reign. Surging up and forward, his fingers scraped against... stone? Cold stone. And then he came face-to-face with a wall of wood. In short order: scraping on stone, shifting fabric, and then a thunderous thunk as he smashed face-first into a... church pew? He'd fallen down under a church pew? Another one after that too. Robert saw stars, he groaned in pain, and he shifted up and back... lifting up a church pew as he stood, which then crashed to the floor.

"Aagh!" He cried out in frustration and confusion. His eyes had finally focused to confirm that yes, he was in a ruined church, so he must have gotten even more debauched than normal. What project had him this stressed? His mouth felt awful. Like his... teeth... he could see that at least his hair and clothes were fine, nice... but his mouth...

Robert reached up, touched his teeth, and screamed in terror. His teeth had lengthened into a pair of square, tombstone-shaped chompers, like a rat's. "My—my mouth! What—who—help! Someone help!" He turned around, hoping to sprint for the door, tripped over the pew he'd just sent falling to the floor, pitched forward, and cracked his head on the next pew. His head bounced off, he landed on his side, on the tipped pew, cracking it in half. He ended up curled up in a fetal position, groaning. "You... you don't want anything to do with me... please..."

Enirboreh AKA Nixer from the domain of infinite floof. Since: Jul, 2015 Relationship Status: Non-Canon
AKA Nixer
#4: Aug 13th 2022 at 6:26:21 PM

Priscilla the Grey

The maiden of the Moonlit Cross had been left in a restful position, laying with her back against the wall in something resembling a peaceful slouch. Though in her slumber and grogginess, there was nothing to hide the curved, ridged horns of a goat protruding out from her skull. Nor the patches of grey fur dotted around her body. Nor the contrastedly sharp teeth that hooked slightly past her lips, which dug into her flesh as she groaned and shifted from her unconsciousness.

On instinct, her hand went to her hip. But her mace was vacant from its usual position, and she wordlessly got up to search for it. The grey woman was quiet and drowsy as she shuffled about the neglected cathedral, ignorant to the others as she mechanically looked for where her beloved weapon could be. Her eyes were wide, but fogged with grey, and with pupils so small and black that she looked inhuman even without the goatlike protrusions on her body. Though her modesty was maintained, as the Conservator Maiden's armour was difficult to remove and as such stil clung to her form.

Perhaps she'd discarded her mace, and thrown it to one side. Or it had been taken. She hoped not. She felt naked without it. Less capable, too. Though...

"Oh Light, grant me forgiveness..." she muttered as she continued to look around, lifting a pew upright that was just in front of the one that Robert had broken as she moved to sit down on it. "Whatever this nightmare may be, so may it not condemn me in your eyes..."

She looked upwards, at the sky. She hummed, though winced as it hurt her; the notes sounding discordant. So she slowed them, and allowed them to hang in the air, so that it less resembled music even though it was a melody in her heart.

She clutched the cross amulet around her neck, gripping it tightly in her hand as she drew comfort from it. Yes, her geometric deity. She didn't search for the moon in the sky, instead she searched for a cross pattern in the shadows cast upon the sides of the open roof.

"Are you harmed?" she remembered to ask those that were there with her, though she didn't want to agitate them while they were in a state of shock. So she left it there instead of asking further questions, for the moment.

bork
kagescorpionakki Breath of the Sun from Long Ago Since: Apr, 2009 Relationship Status: Anime is my true love
Breath of the Sun
#5: Aug 13th 2022 at 6:55:28 PM

Godfrey

The eldest of the group awoke to the sound of cracking wood and panic. He grumbled from where he lay, his side stiff where it lay against the cold stone floor, before pushing himself to his feet. He seemed less shaken than the others, and remained quiet as his gaze swept across his fellows. Even the voice reverberating in his head didn't visibly startle him.

"I'm fine, madam." He replied to Priscilla. His voice was deep and gruff, though not particularly alarmed. "Those two, on the other hand, seem quite troubled."

He noted that someone had left him in a white tunic. He yanked it off in annoyance, exposing his rippling muscle. His skin looked redder than normal, though he didn't feel overheated - and were those fangs in his mouth? He ran his tongue across them curiously.

"I've an inkling as to what's befallen us." He said. "Though I can't remember how the devil it happened."

Striding over to the man curled on the floor, he knelt to put a firm hand on Robert's shoulder. "Oy. You're among friends, son. No one here will hurt you."

What is so amusing about this? Why do you take lives? How can you forget?
drearyArchon Divine Basement Dweller from Somewhere Beneath The World Since: Apr, 2022 Relationship Status: Is that a kind of food?
Divine Basement Dweller
#6: Aug 14th 2022 at 3:12:33 AM

Katherine

As the others start waking up one by one, Katherine's mind becomes assaulted by more and more sensations. At first, it was just the strange feeling of having multiple hearts in her chest, each beating to its own rhythm without regard to the others. But as the others became aware and began moving about, she started feeling everything they felt.

Katherine felt one of the others faceplanting into a few pews. She could feel the scream in his throat better than she could hear it. She winced in pain upon hearing the woman humming through ears that weren't her own. She could even feel the sharpened incisors- the fangs in the mouths of everyone here, including her own

"Fuck, we're all Bloodlords now."

Overwhelmed by the sheer amount of sensory information, Katherine laid down on the ground, closed her eyes, and covered her ears. She could still see through the eyes of the others, could hear and feel through their bodies even, but it reduced the burden. If only very slightly.

Perhaps she should focus on one of them at a time instead of trying to get a handle on everything.

With that in mind, Katherine focused on seeing and feeling through the woman's body to get a handle on... whatever this is.

Everyone's just doing the best that they can.
Taco Since: Jan, 2001
#7: Aug 15th 2022 at 9:52:06 PM

Robert rolled onto his back with a groan, holding his hands up defensively before the big red man. He seemed... strange, sure, but not dangerous! And who was he to complain. Two women were here too, that was a good sign. Not ones he immediately recognized, though that was probably more due to the distance and shock. He knew plenty of people in town. Not this shirtless man though. Was he red from sunburn?

"I'm not hurt, but I think I've been the victim of some sort of prank, sir." Robert struggled to his feet, grunting in pain the whole way, and extended a hand to the old man to shake. "Doctor Robert Ward, Professor of Rodentia Studies at Kejl University." He touched the massive chompers in his mouth again as way of illustration. "I suspect that my discipline of choice 'inspired' my colleagues to affix these... ridiculous..." He kept tugging on his teeth. "Damn false teeth to me. This adhesive is certainly impressive, I'll give them that."

TheNohen roaming, lurking, arguing from Leipzig, Saxony Since: Feb, 2016 Relationship Status: Complex: I'm real, they are imaginary
roaming, lurking, arguing
#8: Aug 16th 2022 at 11:29:51 AM

Cathedral des Invalides

They found themselves in grand hall of what had once been this gracious place of worship. The Cathedral des Invalides had long lost its splendor and, even before that, its faithful. All that remained were the worn images and reliefs of sinners and saints, who looked down upon them as if asking what had led to their sad fate. The dome had partially collapsed, with the traditional hole in the top now resembling more of a broken maw, trying hopelessly to swallow the full moon in the cloudy sky.

The ground was covered by a thin sheet of snow, casting everything in white and making everyone's breath fog up in the cold air. Breaking up this gleaming blanket was a circle, drawn in blood. The red ichor had long since frozen, but it still stood out and was impossible to miss. Its shape was erratic, frightening the senses with its intersecting lines and hinting at its unholy purpose. Its mere presence contrasting stark with the ethereal surroundings and long-lost glory.

Further up ahead was the altar. It was a grisly sight, covered in blood, which had spilled over the sides and pooled around it on the floor. There were tracks that lead to the circle, implying that, what had been bled out on the altar, had then been used to create this accursed design.

Ever more curiously though were the presence of clothes, tools and weaponry. All neatly organized and folded up, gathered in one lonely corner. Their belongings, practically untouched, including whatever money they had carried with them.

On top of the pile laid a single note, written by an elegant hand and using an intense black ink. It had on it a singular word.

"Run."

Edited by TheNohen on Aug 16th 2022 at 8:31:26 PM

Enirboreh AKA Nixer from the domain of infinite floof. Since: Jul, 2015 Relationship Status: Non-Canon
AKA Nixer
#9: Aug 16th 2022 at 11:48:16 AM

Priscilla the Grey

"It is relieving that none of you are severely hurt..." Priscilla acknowledged, before turning with slight surprise at Robert's introduction. "Ah- Dr. Robert Ward...? I'm unsure if you remember me. I donated some blood to your laboratory, as well as sending some letters regarding my own holistic haematology research..." Priscilla explained, giving him a polite smile and a short bow after she stood up straight from her seat. "My name is Priscilla Delacroix. I understand I might not be memorable, but I admire your work."

She was distracted from further praise, however, as she spotted the pile of belongings a short distance away. Quickly moving over to claim her own items, she sighed in audible relief as she found her mace within the pile, and checked it over briefly for damage before holstering it at her hip and collecting her blood vials. Hooking the latter onto her belt (she wondered why they seemed so appetising now) she turned towards the others after briefly glancing at the note atop the pile.

"We should move quickly. I don't know who wrote that, but I'm not interested in arguing while we're vulnerable. We should move as a group for now until we've figured out what's become of us..."

Her fingers instinctively went up to caress the horns atop her head, and her expression soured somewhat.

"...if we can even get outside without being set upon by a mob..."

Edited by Enirboreh on Aug 16th 2022 at 7:49:24 PM

bork
kagescorpionakki Breath of the Sun from Long Ago Since: Apr, 2009 Relationship Status: Anime is my true love
Breath of the Sun
#10: Aug 16th 2022 at 1:28:42 PM

Godfrey

"Godfrey Baudin. Butcher." Godfrey replied, loud enough to make sure the others heard as well. He reciprocated the handshake, his grip quite strong - unsurprising, given his calloused hands. "And I'm afraid this is no joke, young man. We've become Bloodlords."

He turned to nod his head towards the bloody altar. "Why we were chosen, I haven't a clue. But it's our lot, now, like it or not."

Forlornly, he strode past the altar to collect his own things. He pulled on his leather apron, stained from years of animal blood, and made sure his knives and cleavers were accounted for.

"As the Lady Priscilla says, we should heed this warning and leave this place." He stroked his beard. "I can handle myself in a fight, should it come to that, but I'd rather not carve anyone up if I can avoid it."

What is so amusing about this? Why do you take lives? How can you forget?
Taco Since: Jan, 2001
#11: Aug 16th 2022 at 4:13:05 PM

Robert's fear pushed against the feral survival instinct that he knew he had within him... and he decided to embrace the fear. A strangled sob escaped his throat as his mouth hung open. How could he be cursed like this?! After all he'd done, to be cursed to a death at a stake or a mob's justice, to be condemned to a life of predation. His eyes, he could practically feel how beady and ratlike they'd gotten in his skull, they flicked over to the woman who grabbed a fucking mace. She recognized him?! A phlebotomist. Another field he sometimes worked with when the 'disease theorists' came calling about the rats' connections to Rousson's many plagues.

"It's a pleasure ma'am. And sir. I couldn't ask for better, uh," he swallowed, chattered his teeth, trying to collect himself, "more unflappable allies. At this time. I'm no soldier. Excuse me, let me just—" Robert had that feeling, reaching for his money pouch in that corner, of wanting to go get something but feeling to paralyzed to actually do it. The anxiety spirals that led to procrastination during exams. He made the same strangled noise, again, feeling embarassed in front of three competent people, that he wasn't just crossing the room to get his things. He looked over at a rat crouched in the corner, a shred of familiarity. A Rousson Common Brown. It rubbed its face, and before his eyes it squeaked, froze up, and scuttled across the floor, then... delivered him his bag! Robert was frozen for the same period. He had to be having some sort of mental break or dissociative episode. It seemed to regain its sense after dropping his money at his feet, then scurried off. Robert regained his senses at the same time, and looked up at Godfrey, mouth agape. "r-rat..." he squeaked out weakly, and then picked up his money.

drearyArchon Divine Basement Dweller from Somewhere Beneath The World Since: Apr, 2022 Relationship Status: Is that a kind of food?
Divine Basement Dweller
#12: Aug 17th 2022 at 11:54:56 PM

Katherine

It took a few minutes, but gradually Katherine managed to get a handle on the phantom sensations assaulting her. She still hasn't found an off switch, if it even exists, but for now, she can ignore the sensations as background noise and focus on herself.

She did notice where her stuff was from the other's senses though, so that's nice.

Katherine got up from her prone position on the cathedral floor and slowly made her way to her belongings. Putting on her usual hunting clothes and checking to ensure she still has all her weapons helped her focus more on her own situation than on the others.

She still overhears their conversation through ears not her own, though. She didn't really care about who the others were, but a few of their names do ring a bell. Priscilla, in particular, brought to mind a girl she met in the church whenever her Mother dragged her to one of their sermons.

When everyone introduced themselves, Katherine thought she might as well do the same. Trying to speak was still painful, but she managed to write out her name on a patch of snow and pointed everyone to it.

"Name's Katherine de la Haine, pleasure to wake in the same ruined Cathedral as you lot." Katherine snarked in her own thoughts.

Everyone's just doing the best that they can.
TheNohen roaming, lurking, arguing from Leipzig, Saxony Since: Feb, 2016 Relationship Status: Complex: I'm real, they are imaginary
roaming, lurking, arguing
#13: Aug 23rd 2022 at 12:19:20 PM

Cathedral des Invalides

As the four puzzled over their strange circumstances or struggled with the unholy alterations to their flesh and mind, strange noises reached their ears. The cold sound of metal beating on metal and the scraping of claws on stone. Then the smell of wet fur reached them and their dreadful suspicions were proven right, when shortly after a light howl cut through the silent night.

A few seconds later, seven Lycanthropes stepped into sight. Like all of their kind, they were a strange and uncanny mixture of man and beast. Shaggy fur covering their limbs, while their skulls resembled large hounds. They put no effort into hiding their nature, given the isolation of this ruined place, and as such their coiling muscles and large pawed feet were on full display. They wore little more than badly-fitting tunics and simple pants, both big enough to fit their large frames.

None of them resembled wolves, instead their mutated bodies imitated black hounds, streetdogs and the like. They carried with them clubs and axes and one of them even carried a lantern, in which a single candle burned. Each and every one of them was close to a head taller than the newly born Bloodlords and although these hounds were evidently of lowly status, their shabby appearance belied a strength, all too natural to a beast.

They hadn't yet spotted the four Bloodlords, instead roaming around the place and taking their time. "Shit...why do we gotta go first? My shoulder still hurts from last time. Dumb bitch and her crossbow. Should have let me eat her in peace.", whined a stocky-built one, whose skull resembled that of a red butchers dog. His sagging jowls quivered in overly engaged anger.

"'Cause otherwise Renard tears us a new one.", snapped one in front, a tall blackhound. "We got lucky, that we got away from that Bloodfreak back there. He ain't gonna relax, until we cleared out and fortified this place."

"Yeah...still shudder from what that bastard did to Fuchard. Sucked him dry within seconds. Why did we have to go to Jesâule anyway. Everybody knows this place is cursed."

"Hey, its Renard who made the deal with that cloaked drifter, not me. Guess he couldn't resist getting his own territory, instead of having to live under the Seigneurs de la Lune. All we gotta do is clear out the Leeches, that are supposed to be here. That...and hope that Bloodfreak hasn't followed us."

"I still think we should go back. Let Renard deal with this and—"

Before he could continue, the Blackhound raised his hand. "Quiet! I smell something.", he growled. His nostrils flared and he audibly sniffed in the cold air. "Hmm..hm...yeah, they are here. Somewhere around. Find those Leeches. First to find one, gets first choice on the loot!"

Immediately the other six split from him and began to search around, noses sniffing and drool dripping from their greedy maws.

Enirboreh AKA Nixer from the domain of infinite floof. Since: Jul, 2015 Relationship Status: Non-Canon
AKA Nixer
#14: Aug 23rd 2022 at 12:48:46 PM

Priscilla the Grey

"We have company," Priscilla was quick to inform, perhaps redundantly, in a hushed tone towards her new allies as she hastily readied her mace and hid inside an alcove to the right of the Lycanthropes. They were conversing noisily, and the Grey One couldn't help but frown in disgust at their words, speaking of devouring others and similar horrors with no indication of remorse or higher thinking. Undoubtedly they had either grown to enjoy their cruel acts, or they had discarded their humanity in favour of some pitiful excuse. The likes of 'survival' or some other. Priscilla hoped that she herself wouldn't become ensnared under that manner of thought, for there was a special place that she believed those kinds of people deserved to reside.

Rot in the Grave, you disgusting beasts.

Priscilla was quiet as she unhooked a vial of blood from her belt, shook it briefly, and then threw it over to the other side of the cathedral hall. A distraction. The smell of preserved blood would likely draw the beasts away, but also turn their backs to her and the other Bloodlords in the room. While she had no intention of getting into a fight for the sake of it, these things were menaces. They deserved to be slaughtered.

So she sneakily trod out, hoping that the strong scent of blood from her thrown vial would overpower her own scent. Or at least, enough to give her time to sneak up behind the closest Lycan. Enough time for her to raise her mace, and with newly enhanced strength send it crashing down onto the spine of the mangy dog that would stand in her path.

She hoped this would go as intended, if only so that she wouldn't become a nuisance in the eyes of the other Bloodlords. Her mace was ready, and waiting. Eager to be bloodied by the ichor of these disgusting beasts.

bork
kagescorpionakki Breath of the Sun from Long Ago Since: Apr, 2009 Relationship Status: Anime is my true love
Breath of the Sun
#15: Aug 23rd 2022 at 1:01:08 PM

Godfrey

He eyed the rat with a curious interest. "Well, we've figured out what your blood magic is, I suppose. Rats for the man who studies them. Fitting."

Godfrey nodded in greeting to the lady Katherine, realizing that she must have been the voice he'd heard in his head before. Was she mute? Questions upon questions.

Before Godfrey could ponder any of them further, they were rudely interrupted by the arrival of lycanthropes. Seven, by his count, and from their conversation they were hunting the fledgling bloodlords.

He cursed. "Hide," He said to the others. "If you can fight, wait for an opening and strike. No other choice, it would seem. If you can't fight, and they spot you, try to run while I distract them."

So saying, he hid from sight as best he could, drawing a cleaver in one hand and a long knife in the other from his apron. When he saw Priscilla throw the blood vial as a distraction, he took it upon himself to leap into action, charging at the nearest lycan with a cleaver-swing that would tear the man-beast open from shoulder to hip if it struck true.

In his other hand, the massive knife remained ready to meet any counterattack.

What is so amusing about this? Why do you take lives? How can you forget?
drearyArchon Divine Basement Dweller from Somewhere Beneath The World Since: Apr, 2022 Relationship Status: Is that a kind of food?
Divine Basement Dweller
#16: Aug 24th 2022 at 2:31:56 AM

Katherine

The arrival of the Lycanthrope pack meant that the number of viewpoints Katherine had to juggle suddenly tripled. Seven additional pairs of eyes and ears to see and hear from. The noses were the worst part, as the Lycanthropes' sense of smell was far better than that of humans or Bloodlords.

"Bleh. How the hell do Lycanthropes bear with the constant wet dog smell? Do these mutts not know what soap is?"

Her inner monologue managed to somewhat help her focus, help her stay on her feet. A Lycan ambush was hardly the time to be caught lying down.

As Priscilla caused a distraction, Katherine slipped into the shadows of the Cathedral to set up an ambush. One good thing about her new Bloodblord abilities is that she knows where the Lycan Mutts are looking and, more importantly, where they aren't.

Hopefully, the others can handle themselves.

Everyone's just doing the best that they can.
AxionTheGhost Head of Ghostly, Ghastly, and Ghouly Science from The Afterlife Since: Feb, 2022 Relationship Status: Love is for the living, Sal
Head of Ghostly, Ghastly, and Ghouly Science
#17: Sep 12th 2022 at 9:06:35 PM

Lukas Riese

Lukas stood in the surrounding halls of the cathedral, right by a side exit and a staircase. The position let him listen in to what was going on in the main sermon room, while letting him quickly leave if he needed to. He was puzzled. Someone had knocked him out, for unknown reasons, turned his skin translucent, for unknown reasons, took his possessions and left them on the altar, for unknown reasons, and inscribed a frustratingly vauge warning on the wall, for unknown reasons. The conundrum kept him busy as he waited for whatever the inscription was talking about to happen.

He could hear the other people in the cathedral talking in the sermon room, but they were too quiet to hear distinctly. He'd had awaken before those four, and chose not to wake them up. Curious what they were saying, Lukas found himself walking back to the sermon room. He stopped himself. He still didn't know if they were friendly. But perhaps they could know something about... anything?

Suddenly, a howl pierced his ears. A pack of beasts broke into the sermon room, their wet stench finding it's way to Lukas's hiding spot.

He carefully peeked into the sermon room and saw a pack of Lycanthropes, seven in total. He did not see the other four, but he firgued that if they were dead, he would have heard it. Lukas quickly ducked back into cover and tried to come up with a plan.

This was probably what the warning was about, he thought to himself. He should leave as quickly as possible. However, judging by the Lycanthropes conversation, they were part of a group. He might be able to run from seven Lycanthropes, but running from an organization was much harder, especially in a city he had no experience in. Running didn't seem viable. Fighting seven solo was suicidal, and wouldn't take down the group either. Perhaps if he knew why he was being targeted, he might be able to get off the organization's hit list... but he didn't. Lukas began to sweat. If he had allies, anyone who knew the city, he would have a lot better chance of surviving, but he, of course, didn't. Well, the four who had been talking earlier might be viable teammates... but there's a chance they're in on it. That would easily explain why the Lycanthropes hadn't killed them yet. Normal civilians don't last this long. Which would mean that he was now dealing with eleven hostiles...

Suddenly, Lukas paused, noticing that his heartbeat had gone up. The Lycanthropes hadn't found him yet, thankfully, while he was thinking. He took another glance into the sermon hall. The Lycanthropes were still there, and the other four were nowhere to be seen. Lukas quickly assumed they were also hiding from the beasts; he couldn't think of any other explanation as to why they weren't dead yet. With the five of them together, they could probably take down the Lycanthropes. Once they were defeated, he'd now have four allies, who probably lived in Roussan, and he'd be well on his way to getting out of... whatever was happening. He breathed a sigh of relief. Coming up with that plan was exhausting.

Preparing for the upcoming battle, Lukas loaded a normal bolt into his crossbow. He then wondered why he was thinking of this bolt as normal, as if he used abnormal bolts, whatever those were. He knew the staircase to the left would lead him to a balcony that overlooked the sermon hall, giving him a clear shot with his crossbow below. Just as he began to sneakily climb the staircase, Lukas heard a glass vial shatter behind him. He wasn't sure what exactly it was, but he knew the battle would soon follow. He raced to the top of the balcony.

I assure you, this post was vital to the advancement of spooky science
Taco Since: Jan, 2001
#18: Sep 14th 2022 at 10:16:26 AM

"We run though. They have the advantage. There is no way our new power will even a numerical and skill advantage of this depth." Robert whispered, and dropped to the ground. He started crawling, going under the pews in a slow crawl headed for what he hoped would be a front door he could shift open. And... he would not leave them alone though. "Forgive me, friend. Your brothers will find a home with me, now."

He whispered, and reached out to that same brown rat that brought him his money. The rat froze for a moment, and Robert sent it scuttling across the church floor. With that vial of blood leading them one way the rat could circle around them silently, position itself at a point furthest away from the group of vampires, and then start squeaking and hissing its head off to try to keep drawing the Lycans' attention away as Robert kept fleeing under the pews.

TheNohen roaming, lurking, arguing from Leipzig, Saxony Since: Feb, 2016 Relationship Status: Complex: I'm real, they are imaginary
roaming, lurking, arguing
#19: Sep 14th 2022 at 10:47:42 AM

Cathedral des Invalides

The shatter of glass and the splatter of blood caused the Mutts heads to snap around. As Priscilla had expected, their instincts made them vulnerable to a distraction and their inexperience too slow to realize their mistake. Their beastly bodies, for whom they so willingly had defiled themselves, affecting their human minds. Priscilla's cold mace crashed into the red Mutts back with a satisfying crunch and brought the tall beast down with a pained yelp.

However, where a blow like this would have killed a grown man, shattering his back like dessicated branch, the Lycanthrope instead tumbled onto the ground and screamed in agony. His arms flailed, while his legs remained awfully still, as his spine had been shattered. "M-My legs! Bloody Dark, I can't feel my legs!", he cried out in panic.

The other six wolfmen whirled around and drew their weapons. Howls echoed through the ruined chapel, as they got ready for a fight and stormed towards Priscilla. Then Godfrey leapt into action, bringing down his cleaver on the Blackhound leading the pack. The edge of the blade clashed against hastily raised club, but the Mutt met the blow head-on. With a growl he pushed back, forcing Godfrey a step back, as the black hound showed surprising strength.

"Two of you? They said, there would be more..." He snorted. "No matter. Fresh meat is fresh meat!" He swung his club, but had to back off when Godfrey whipped out his long knife in his offhand.

Priscilla meanwhile was rushed by two Mutts at the same time, both equipped with crude axes. They flailed wildly at her, their strikes lacking any finesse or training. But their speed and innate strength nonetheless would prove fatal, should they land a clean hit.

A fourth Lycanthrope turned around, when his ears picked up a loud, attention-grabbing squeak. In the throes of confusion and battlelust, she didn't think about it being yet another diversion. Instead, raising her wodden mallet, she howled and dashed after the noise, smashing into upturned pews and away from the fight and the ruined gate. "I'mma find you, you dark-cursed leeches!", she roared.

The last two remaining Mutts proved to be of calmer disposition. One of them, a grey hound with scars varnishing his tortured hide, nodded at his companion, a mangy streetdog whose brown fur was clumped and filthy. "Get Renard. Be quick about it.", he told him.

The brown Mutt took off on all fours, his clawed hands and feet scraping over the stone-floor, as he raced towards the Gate. The scarred Lycanthrope then turned about and began sniffing in the cold night-air. "Someone's still here. I hear it...somewhere in my head..", he mumbled, as his nostrils flared. He pulled out two nasty knifes and stalked ever closer to Katherine's hiding spot.

"You better come out. Leech, Ghost...or whatever you are.", he growled. His eyes glaring into the shadows, yet unable to see her just yet.

Edited by TheNohen on Sep 14th 2022 at 7:49:23 PM

Enirboreh AKA Nixer from the domain of infinite floof. Since: Jul, 2015 Relationship Status: Non-Canon
AKA Nixer
#20: Sep 14th 2022 at 11:25:30 AM

Priscilla the Grey

The foul beast was more durable than a man, but Priscilla was hardly surprised by this. If anything, she was relieved to have successfully broken the lycanthrope's spine, and her stare was unwavering as she acknowledged his cry of agony. If she wasn't a composed woman, she might've found a grim schadenfreude in his despair. But she merely pursed her lips and flicked her eyes upwards, tactfully hopping backwards to let him writhe as two of his allies proceeded to gang up on her.

"All of you will be condemned by the metal of my cudgel," she said coolly to them, as she ducked the first one's swing and retaliated with a heavy strike of her own aimed against the lycan's jawbone. "May the Light find favour in your wretched little souls."

When it came to the second one, however, she only barely managed to parry aside his axe blade before she had to make some distance, and she felt a tension in her features. However, this tension soon began to increase into a spasm all across her face, and she grunted and grimaced with surprise as it only worsened.

Ugh...! What is this... sensation...?

She was in the middle of closing the distance again with an opening strike aimed at the second lycan's legs, but before she could hit him she felt a sheer agony enflaming all the nerves and muscles in her face. She gurgled out a shriek involuntarily, covered her coutenance with both of her hands, and then dropped the mace and staggered backwards as she felt the skin rending beneath her fingers. She would've screamed if she'd had the breath to, but the pain all too quickly faded as she brought her hands away and realised she could now feel nothing at all upon her face.

Not even the musty air brushing against her skin.

What was that, flicking about in her view? Small tendrils of... something. Was it phantom sights? Disorientation, affecting her vision? Was this the nature behind her lack of colouration? This... sudden facial agony, that quickly turned to numbness?

Priscilla, in her confusion and shock, hadn't fully realised what had happened to her. But to the lycanthropes, and the others around her, it was all too horrifically evident. All of the skin on Priscilla's face had split apart and torn away into thin, hairlike strands of flesh, leaving the muscles beneath exposed and on display for all to see, and her cold stare was still unflinching. As she quickly snatched up her mace again and resumed her attempts to strike at the two lycanthropes targeting her, she was blissfully unaware of the grotesque sight that she now was—and as if the mace wasn't a dangerous enough weapon on its own, the thin tendrils of skin were also beginning to zip about and threaten to slice through the bodies of her opponents in addition.

Once she saw her reflection, she'd undoubtedly comprehend what had happened. But as of then and there, she was focused moreso on the battle than some random fit of agony, and since it didn't seem to be affecting her performance she didn't pay it any mind for the moment. Though she was curious as to why she caught glimpses of multiple things flashing through the air in front of her, whenever the creatures got too close.

Murder was on her mind, and her living flayed skin obeyed her whims accordingly, even if she herself didn't expressly command it to act as of yet.

Edited by Enirboreh on Sep 14th 2022 at 7:27:26 PM

bork
kagescorpionakki Breath of the Sun from Long Ago Since: Apr, 2009 Relationship Status: Anime is my true love
Breath of the Sun
#21: Sep 14th 2022 at 7:03:41 PM

Godfrey

"I'd say two of us are more than a match for you." Godfrey's response was casual. He didn't seemed bothered by the potential of mortal danger. If anything, he was mad. He clutched his blades tightly, the muscles in his arms bulging, his skin beginning to redden.

The reason for this became apparent with Godfrey's next swing - with a surge of anger, blood flowed through his arms, enhancing his strength to monstrous levels. He brought down his cleaver with enough force to carve stone like flesh; his arm was a blur as the blade flashed through the air.

Later, perhaps, he'd realize what his Blood Art was, but for now, he was focused solely on the haze of battle.

What is so amusing about this? Why do you take lives? How can you forget?
AxionTheGhost Head of Ghostly, Ghastly, and Ghouly Science from The Afterlife Since: Feb, 2022 Relationship Status: Love is for the living, Sal
Head of Ghostly, Ghastly, and Ghouly Science
#22: Sep 19th 2022 at 7:48:25 PM

Lukas Riese

As Lukas arrived at the overlook, he heard a terrifying crunch from below him. Carefully peering over the balcony, he saw a Lycanthrope writhing on the ground with a broken back, and the pale woman with a bloody mace. Why this woman he assumed was a priest was carrying such a weapon was a question for another time, but for now it was time to fight.

But before Lukas felt he could safely rain down fire, he wanted to set up first. He took some of the scattered chairs and furniture and stacked down at the top of the stairs. If any of the Lycanthropes tried to follow him up onto the overlook, he could knock the blockade down to slow them down. Lukas then examined his position for escape routes; he could climb onto the beams, and from there he saw many paths to ground level.

Lukas readied his crossbow and decided on a target. This shot would be the only one where he had the element of suprise, he needed to make it count. He surveyed the Lycanthropes. His eyes were drawn to the brown mutt crawling to the gate, recalling overhearing that he was "getting Renard". He had no clue who Renard was, but if the Lycanthropes wanted to bring Renard in, it was in his interest to stop that. Lukas lined up a shot into the brown mutt's torso and prepared to fire.

I assure you, this post was vital to the advancement of spooky science
drearyArchon Divine Basement Dweller from Somewhere Beneath The World Since: Apr, 2022 Relationship Status: Is that a kind of food?
Divine Basement Dweller
#23: Sep 27th 2022 at 1:00:24 AM

Katherine

"In your head? Huh. I guess one of the others unlocked a telepathic Blood Art and couldn't quite control it yet. Wonder who- wait, why are you coming towards- OH SHIT."

While Katherine remained outwardly calm, she was internally panicking. Which was unfortunate since apparently everyone could hear her internal monologues.

Getting control over her own powers just got a lot more urgent. Not like it wasn't urgent before, but still.

Katherine doesn't know how much of her thoughts she was leaking. At the very least, the Mutt can't look through her senses as she did with its own. Otherwise, it would've detected her as she snuck around it and threw knives at its back.

Still, Katherine kept complex thoughts to a minimum, allowing her reflexes to take over as she moved around the Mutt, throwing knives from the shadows and disappearing again and again. Her mouth would usually be throwing insults at the Lycan as she danced around it, but with her voice shot and steps as light as they always were, there wasn't anything to give away her position.

Once the Lycan was sufficiently weakened and enraged, Katherine snuck behind the thing and plunged her knife through the back of its neck. Severing its spine wouldn't stop the creature from regenerating, but it'll paralyze it for a while at least.

Everyone's just doing the best that they can.
Taco Since: Jan, 2001
#24: Oct 4th 2022 at 4:20:12 PM

Robert watched, jaw agape, as his friends revealed their predatory natures. It was like a vivisection. Monstrousness in forms he'd never conceived. Even before the woman flayed herself into a weapon she was already an engine of holy violence. And this other... bulging musclebeast, would he pop like a balloon if you stabbed him? All of this coarse manipulation of viscera, and he was stuck, under a pew, with... a rat? He was a civilian anyway, not some kind of killer!

Robert kept crawling, clawing forward... until he sank his palm directly into a nail. White-hot pain shot through his arm, and he squealed in pain, again shooting up into a standing position, again crashing into the pew. He whirled around, clutching his hand, scowling over at the nearest outlet for his anger. Fuck it! He was dead anyway! Whatever he got out of this would be better! He threw his arms forward and screamed at them, lashing out with the same phantom limb that controlled the rats. The werewolves that had already been injured would find themselves getting lightheaded quickly, as Robert remotely thinned their blood and drained their vital blood into the floor. "I'M NOT GOING TO DIIIIE HEEEEERE!!" Not elegant, and his voice cracked. He was even pigeontoed while he did it, he didn't have any stability. This was just his completely untrained dumb ass, backed into a corner.

TheNohen roaming, lurking, arguing from Leipzig, Saxony Since: Feb, 2016 Relationship Status: Complex: I'm real, they are imaginary
roaming, lurking, arguing
#25: Oct 7th 2022 at 9:20:39 AM

Cathedral des Invalides

"Renard...Gotta get Renard...", muttered the Lycanthrope, who was heading for the door. Behind him he could hear the screams and shouts of battle. They all knew the rules when it came to Bloodlords. Always use numbers on them. Avoid a straight fight unless you knew you could kill them. Even Leeches could be dangerous, as he could hear behind him.

Tossing some wooden beams aside, that had collapsed from the ceiling, he reached the door and pushed it open. Cold air greeted his nose and he could see the rest of the Pack stand outside, waiting for infos. "Renard! We got a pro—"

Then a bolt hit him right in the back. A well-aimed shot, that punched through his heart. He stumbled, trying to open his mouth to say something. Another step, now blood pooled over his lips. His lung had been pierced in the process. He could see one man turn around, look him in the eye. "R-Renard..."

Then he collapsed, dead on the stairs of the cathedral.


Screams echoed within the ruined hall. A brutal noise of breaking wood filled everyones ears. The Blackhound coughed, silently cursing his mistake, as he stared first at his broken club, raised in futile defense, and then down to his chest, where the cleaver had buried itself. It had impacted with such force, its edge had broken his collarbone and eight ribs on its path down.

Screams drew his attention to the side and he could see that two of his companions had been lifted up in the air by what seemed like flesh-ribbons, that flailed from the body of one of the Leeches like manic limbs. Their cries of horror quickly stopped, as their life was slowly throttled out of them.

"M-Merde....", he muttered, as he collapsed onto the floor.


The grey hound roared, as Katherine plunged a knife into his neck. Her diversion had worked perfectly, as he had been busy plucking daggers from his side, when she had assaulted him. Now he broke down, his body paralyzed and useless, onto the snow-covered floor.

His eyes whipped around, seeing her stand over him. His breath went shallow, as a red pool of blood slowly formed under him, staining the white surface. "N-Not like...this. I-I didn't do all this...j-just to die...like this...", he stammered, getting weaker with every word, as the blood spilled out from his wounds with alarming speed.

His nose twitched and his eyes flickered away from Katherine, up to the ceiling. Somewhere in the shadows. He recognized it. Before he flowed away into the deadly embrace of unconsiousness, he chuckled. "Huh..huhuhu...dead...we are all so fucking....dead...."

Roberts scream of pain and then his panicked curses did not help his attempt to stay hidden. Even as he lashed around wildly, making blood flow maddeningly quick and silencing the cries of the wounded forever, his run of good luck had ceased. Another pew crashed next to him and as he turned around, he stared into the wild eyes of the last Lycanthrope left.

She was big, bigger than the others. Her brutal form resembling a Wolfhound, with broad shoulders and bulging, scarred arms. She wore what looked to be a ruined militia-attire, straining over her noticable bust, and wielded a heavy mallet in her broad palms. "Found you, shitty leech!", she barked, steam puffing out of her snout.

With a roar she slammed her mallet into Roberts side, knocking the wind out of him and cracking a rib. Then she kicked away his legs and tackled him to the ground. Towering above him, she howled angrily and raised her mallet for a final blow.

Suddenly a second tongue burst out underneath her neck. She stared at it in shock, as blood dripped from the metal blade. "W-Wut...?" She reached up to touch it, but before she could do so she was suddenly yanked upwards.

Rising up to the ceiling, she howled in pain and rage, trying to stop her ascent into the dark shadows of the cathedral. She reached behind her and yanked at something. Almost halfway into the shadows, she made a wild swing with her weapon behind her and connected. The metal tongue between her breasts slipped out and she fell with a scream, crashing into a pile of wood, pews and furniture and stopped moving.

For a moment, there as terrible silence. The kind of quiet that only came when a deadly predator had entered the room and nobody dared provoke it.

Gliding out from the shadows came a terrible sight. His feet were naked and beset with dark claws, that contrasted his deathly pale. Dark, filthy rags covered his emaciated body, but made no effort covering the too-long limbs. He moved with flowing motion, like drawn by the wind, scarcely disturbing the snow beneath his feet. His face was gaunt, like a skull. Black strands of hair clinging to his scalp like strokes from a fine brush. And the eyes....terrible, red pins sunken into black, shadowy holes, filled with an unnatural hunger and screaming with madness.

The Bloodfreak looked at all of them. Between his finger dangled a sharp metal blade, tied to a thin, almost imperceptible string. His attention then was drawn to the pool of blood before Katherine and he crawled down on all fours, slamming his face onto the floor. A disgustingly long tongue slipped out and dragged itself through the red ichor.

He moaned and grunted, as if he was relieving himself. Then he stared at Katherine. At Godfrey. At Robert.

At Priscilla. At bloody, skinless Priscilla.

Rising up, moving like a corded sinew, he stepped towards her. His gaze penetrating her. His lips peeling back, revealing terrible fangs and dripping saliva, mixed with blood.

The Gate flew open. The wooden doors slammed against the wall with such force that they shattered. Stepping through was a towering Lycanthrope. A true one, with a thick, black fur running down his wolven head and silver eyes glowing in the dark. Chainmail and a gambeson stretched over his wide chest and every step caused his corded muscles to ripple and his silver claws to shine with deadly intent in the moonlight.

Renard de Gauchonê stared at the bloodsoaked scene before him. His gaze resting at the corpses of his underlings. He grit his teeth and touched the symbol of Lunar Light hanging from a chain around his neck. "Couldn't be easy, huh.", he quipped, humorless.

Drawing his Messer, a one-bladed sword, he let out a long, drawn-out howl into the night. Behind him two dozen Lycanthropes, most of them Mutts, stepped into the Cathedral.

"Kill the Bloodlords. All of them!", barked Renard.

The Bloodfreak hissed.

And pandemonium broke out.


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