SirDerpingtonIV
A Campfire at the End of Time
Two Nights Prior,
THE RAVEN
A heavy rain fell in the southern parts of town where the Raven was on the hunt. Well, perhaps hunt was the wrong term. She'd laid a trap, and was lying in wait for someone to take the bait. A local college girl with little to do and a need for money to pay off student loan debt, and a little of the Raven's own money. A simple trap, and risky, but effective as all hell. The general idea of the trap was simple. The Raven discreetly pays someone of relatively small stature and non-intimidating appearance to walk around a certain area in a 'hot spot' for monster activity. Years of study had told her that such targets were the preferred of any monster, simply because they were easy, although there was some variation. Vampires preferred vulnerable prey, and although high-ranking and elder vampires would have blood brought to them, the youngest of any vampiric bloodline, or a newly converted vampire would be active, trying to make their own kills, experience the strength of their new dark powers. Werewolves were more likely to target larger, dominant appearing individuals, as werewolves seem to be largely territorial and view such people as threats, at least those who haven't gotten smart enough to blend in properly. Only the younger monsters of both kinds fell for this sort of trap, but it tended to be the youngest who committed the most violent acts, after all.
Usually, it involved sadistic fantasy, and a violent, messy killing for the unfortunate victim, but the Raven had this girl's back. After all, she was watching from the roof top of a nearby building, palms to the roof as she watched the woman walk, rain gently falling on her cloak, her hand clenched around the hilt of her curved hunting blade as she watched the woman move. Her instructions had been clear, to walk, three times, clockwise around the block, and to wear something that revealed the neck. She was given a can of pepper spray by the Raven as reassurance that she would be fine, as well as the Raven's own protection. She just had to unwittingly be bait. Of course, she wasn't told any of this, told that it was part of the university's sociology department doing an experiment on how safe people felt walking around at night in the community they lived in, all that nonsense. The rattling off a few made up names and a bit of money usually soothed any doubts. And besides, she hadn't lost one bait yet.
It took twenty minutes and two rounds for a response, and the Raven tensed up. A figure emerged from some night club, clad in a dark outfit. A coat, and dress shoes. He wasn't a mugger or normal criminal judging by the attire, and his hands were at his sides, meaning he likely carried no weapon. The unbridled arrogance of his step told her quite a bit as well, she'd seen it many times before. Typical, the Huntress thought to herself, beginning to move forward, creeping towards the edge of the building. He was most likely a vampire. Young, and looking to prove himself to the new, arrogant secret society he'd joined. Either naturally snobby, or looking to make up for something with his actions. Easy prey, he wouldn't see the Raven coming.
The man moved with a quick stride, catching up with the woman, the loud clack of his dress shoes on the pavement getting the student's attention. She began to move faster, and he moved to give chase, only speeding up to a fast walk as the Raven's feet touched the pavement, and she broke into a sprint, her long, curved blades freed from their sheaths. The rainfall was too loud, and his senses too dull to have heard the Raven coming, and as the young woman turned to fearfully look over her shoulder again, she was alone once more.
The vampire landed in a graceless heap in the alleyway, scrambling back to his feet as the rainwater soaked his fancy clothing. He opened his mouth, pointed fangs gleaming with the distant light of neon street signs. Only a few, insignificant words left his mouth, before he saw the Raven truly, and if vampires could pale, he would have. His arrogant sniveling turned to pleading as the Hunter moved forward, the two blades at her sides. For a moment, she thought he would merely curl up and beg for mercy, but that desperate, animal gleam in his eyes dark eyes betrayed his intentions. The Raven shifted to the side, heels turning upon the wet concrete as the vampire lunged past her, earning a deep cut across his ribs for the attempt. The cut wasn't meant to kill him, of course, only to make him bleed, to make him reckless in his pain.
He turned, swiping at her with his right hand, the fingernails sharpened into some sort of claw. His strike met only the Raven's blade, the clash and its sparks provided just enough light to see his face, a sort of realization dawning on him. The Raven's other blade sliced through his forearm, his right hand falling to the ground as he reeled back in agony, clutching his stump, hissing at her.
The vampire began to speak, cursing the Raven, wishing her a thousand painful deaths, and echoing that same, hollow threat: "My Clan will avenge me."
Beneath the mask, the Raven only grinned that warped grin, and shook its head, striding forward with the practiced, measured stride of someone with all the time in the world, before she finally gave her answer in that low, rasping voice. "I don't think they will."
The Vampire lunged once more, swinging its claws and snarling at her, its superhuman durability keeping it standing. The Raven weaved between its strikes, all too clumsy to be of threat. Vampires were stronger and faster than humans, but new bloods never wielded that strength properly. They could have all the strength and speed in the world, but with no technique behind it, they were nothing. The creature threw itself forward in an attempt to get past the Raven and out of the alleyway, its confidence finally shattering, only to catch the Raven's outstretched foot. The Vampire's face smacked the pavement with the sort of soft, fleshy crack that signified a broken nose. The pathetic creature of the night began to crawl forward, whimpering,sobbing, and bleeding as the Raven sheathed its blades. The hunter reached down to its side, gloved fingers brushing up against the worn grip of a trusted revolver, and slid the weapon from its holster. It was only a slight motion to pull back the hammer and hear that click, and just one more to put an hole the size of a quarter in the back of the vampire's skull.
The next morning, his fellow leeches found his corpse there still, an Iron Raven clutched between his bloodied teeth.
THE RAVEN
A heavy rain fell in the southern parts of town where the Raven was on the hunt. Well, perhaps hunt was the wrong term. She'd laid a trap, and was lying in wait for someone to take the bait. A local college girl with little to do and a need for money to pay off student loan debt, and a little of the Raven's own money. A simple trap, and risky, but effective as all hell. The general idea of the trap was simple. The Raven discreetly pays someone of relatively small stature and non-intimidating appearance to walk around a certain area in a 'hot spot' for monster activity. Years of study had told her that such targets were the preferred of any monster, simply because they were easy, although there was some variation. Vampires preferred vulnerable prey, and although high-ranking and elder vampires would have blood brought to them, the youngest of any vampiric bloodline, or a newly converted vampire would be active, trying to make their own kills, experience the strength of their new dark powers. Werewolves were more likely to target larger, dominant appearing individuals, as werewolves seem to be largely territorial and view such people as threats, at least those who haven't gotten smart enough to blend in properly. Only the younger monsters of both kinds fell for this sort of trap, but it tended to be the youngest who committed the most violent acts, after all.
Usually, it involved sadistic fantasy, and a violent, messy killing for the unfortunate victim, but the Raven had this girl's back. After all, she was watching from the roof top of a nearby building, palms to the roof as she watched the woman walk, rain gently falling on her cloak, her hand clenched around the hilt of her curved hunting blade as she watched the woman move. Her instructions had been clear, to walk, three times, clockwise around the block, and to wear something that revealed the neck. She was given a can of pepper spray by the Raven as reassurance that she would be fine, as well as the Raven's own protection. She just had to unwittingly be bait. Of course, she wasn't told any of this, told that it was part of the university's sociology department doing an experiment on how safe people felt walking around at night in the community they lived in, all that nonsense. The rattling off a few made up names and a bit of money usually soothed any doubts. And besides, she hadn't lost one bait yet.
It took twenty minutes and two rounds for a response, and the Raven tensed up. A figure emerged from some night club, clad in a dark outfit. A coat, and dress shoes. He wasn't a mugger or normal criminal judging by the attire, and his hands were at his sides, meaning he likely carried no weapon. The unbridled arrogance of his step told her quite a bit as well, she'd seen it many times before. Typical, the Huntress thought to herself, beginning to move forward, creeping towards the edge of the building. He was most likely a vampire. Young, and looking to prove himself to the new, arrogant secret society he'd joined. Either naturally snobby, or looking to make up for something with his actions. Easy prey, he wouldn't see the Raven coming.
The man moved with a quick stride, catching up with the woman, the loud clack of his dress shoes on the pavement getting the student's attention. She began to move faster, and he moved to give chase, only speeding up to a fast walk as the Raven's feet touched the pavement, and she broke into a sprint, her long, curved blades freed from their sheaths. The rainfall was too loud, and his senses too dull to have heard the Raven coming, and as the young woman turned to fearfully look over her shoulder again, she was alone once more.
The vampire landed in a graceless heap in the alleyway, scrambling back to his feet as the rainwater soaked his fancy clothing. He opened his mouth, pointed fangs gleaming with the distant light of neon street signs. Only a few, insignificant words left his mouth, before he saw the Raven truly, and if vampires could pale, he would have. His arrogant sniveling turned to pleading as the Hunter moved forward, the two blades at her sides. For a moment, she thought he would merely curl up and beg for mercy, but that desperate, animal gleam in his eyes dark eyes betrayed his intentions. The Raven shifted to the side, heels turning upon the wet concrete as the vampire lunged past her, earning a deep cut across his ribs for the attempt. The cut wasn't meant to kill him, of course, only to make him bleed, to make him reckless in his pain.
He turned, swiping at her with his right hand, the fingernails sharpened into some sort of claw. His strike met only the Raven's blade, the clash and its sparks provided just enough light to see his face, a sort of realization dawning on him. The Raven's other blade sliced through his forearm, his right hand falling to the ground as he reeled back in agony, clutching his stump, hissing at her.
The vampire began to speak, cursing the Raven, wishing her a thousand painful deaths, and echoing that same, hollow threat: "My Clan will avenge me."
Beneath the mask, the Raven only grinned that warped grin, and shook its head, striding forward with the practiced, measured stride of someone with all the time in the world, before she finally gave her answer in that low, rasping voice. "I don't think they will."
The Vampire lunged once more, swinging its claws and snarling at her, its superhuman durability keeping it standing. The Raven weaved between its strikes, all too clumsy to be of threat. Vampires were stronger and faster than humans, but new bloods never wielded that strength properly. They could have all the strength and speed in the world, but with no technique behind it, they were nothing. The creature threw itself forward in an attempt to get past the Raven and out of the alleyway, its confidence finally shattering, only to catch the Raven's outstretched foot. The Vampire's face smacked the pavement with the sort of soft, fleshy crack that signified a broken nose. The pathetic creature of the night began to crawl forward, whimpering,sobbing, and bleeding as the Raven sheathed its blades. The hunter reached down to its side, gloved fingers brushing up against the worn grip of a trusted revolver, and slid the weapon from its holster. It was only a slight motion to pull back the hammer and hear that click, and just one more to put an hole the size of a quarter in the back of the vampire's skull.
The next morning, his fellow leeches found his corpse there still, an Iron Raven clutched between his bloodied teeth.