christ, it's been a literal year
gimme a vampire please
|# ¿ Jul 31, 2018 21:42|
|# ¿ Mar 22, 2019 09:02|
Strength: Upon passing into any territory or jurisdiction (state, county, city, province, etc.), your vampire instantly knows all laws and polices in effect in that area.
Weakness: Your vampire must always abide by local laws.
Xavier Lawrence, Vampire Attorney
“...And thus, Your Honor, it is clear that my client’s acquisition of Mr. Wolfe’s land was well within the bounds of the law,” Xavier concluded.
He allowed himself the faintest hint of satisfaction to taint his voice as he continued. He may have spent the trial side-eyeing his smug client, but their case was airtight. Loopholes were trivial to find when you had an encyclopedic knowledge of the law, but still, no harm in taking pleasure in a job well done.
“It may not have been a very, ah, favorable arrangement for Mr. Wolfe, so he has my sympathies, and I understand why he believed it necessary to bring us all here today. Nevertheless, my client is not responsible for his lack of business acumen.” With that, he sat down. His clients smirk had graduated to a toothy grin, and it took all Xavier’s presence of mind to stop himself from elbowing him in the ribs. At least he hadn’t lost enough composure to let his fangs show.
The judge nodded. “Thank you, Mr. Lawrence. I would now like to call for the Plaintiff’s closing argument.”
Wolfe stood up, the poor old man still insistent on representing himself. He cleared his throat. Looked Xavier’s client dead in the eye with gray eyes shining with a discomforting serenity, causing him to shift uncomfortably in his seat.
“Son, I trusted you. Might not’ve read all the papers you gave me, so call me an idiot all you want, but I - I trusted you. All the years I’ve been alive, any man who could hold my moonshine’s never let me down.” Xavier supposed that the only benefit of drinks turning to ash in your mouth was that they never reached your stomach.
Wolfe continued. “You don’t gotta be the first. My family’s hunted in that forest for generations - we need it. It ain’t too late to give it back, and we can put all this behind us, alright? I’m begging ya.” He knelt down, head bowed.
The undignified plea was out of place in a court, but the man still deserved a response. Xavier looked expectantly at his client until the man finally shook his head. “Deal’s a deal. Are we done here?”
“Guess we are,” Wolfe growled, his voice taking an alarming feral tone, the gray of his eyes bleeding into red, his clothes tearing as fur covered his entire body. The jury howled in unison. The bailiff stalked towards the Defense’s bench, face split open in a newly fanged grin.
Oh, how Xavier hated small towns. City werewolves at least had the decency to call themselves ‘Smith’ or ‘Johnson’. They had enough class to not make you feel like an imbecile when you decided to represent someone who had crossed the Wolfe family.
The judge banged his gavel, a black horn growing from his head. “For the crime of being heartless bloodsuckers, I hereby sentence the Defense to immediate death!”
Fortunately, being torn limb from limb fell under the accepted definition of “cruel and unusual punishment”, so the judge’s verdict wasn’t legally binding.
Unfortunately, Xavier didn’t get the impression that anyone particularly cared. “I suppose the court is recessing, then?” He mumbled, skedaddling as his client disappeared under a fierce flurry of fur, feathers, and scales.
The road was guarded, forcing him to take a detour through the surrounding forest. Xavier scrambled through the mud like an animal, well aware that the literal animals were much more comfortable with this than him. He was wearing a suit, for devil’s sake, and he’d left his car behind at the courthouse - the speed limit was 20 MPH, but running faster than that wasn’t illegal, so long as you didn’t collide with anything and accidentally commit assault or property damage.
He shuddered, thinking of the time his car’s speedometer broke and he inadvertently surpassed the limit. The ensuing agony had forced him to curl up in the fetal position until someone got around to giving him a ticket for blocking traffic. What was inconvenient and embarrassing then would be deadly now.
Xavier tried not to think about the vegetation he crushed underfoot, the branches he tore past. He didn’t have a scent for the hounds to track, but he left a trail nevertheless. His filthy capitalist of a client had distracted the horde for a while, but it seemed like there was nothing but bones left of him, while predatory stomachs still had room for a comparatively innocent lawyer.
Bestial cries pierced the lazy afternoon heat behind him, dark shapes flew overhead, faster than even his eyes could track. He had to find a non-overrun town before night fell - the mongrels weren’t lunatic enough to rip him to pieces in the middle of the street. Yet.
As he sprinted past a particularly towering tree, a squirrel the size of a large cat dropped down onto his arm, instantly latching on. Xavier, stumbled, swore, then bashed the vermin against its home several times, and while the horrid beast was still stunned he tore it away from himself, bringing a good chunk of his flesh with it. It screeched as he hurled it away like it an especially irritable football.
He couldn’t keep this up. He just didn’t have the blood left in him. Long gone were the days where you could still squat in miserable swamps that no local lord had bothered to claim, waiting for idiots to fall in. You had to travel to a country where it was legal to buy blood, find a legal seller, vary your sources so no one got suspicious... even if he could get away with feeding only once a month, the costs added up. He couldn’t be picky about his clients, especially the richest bastards. What was he supposed to do otherwise? Lure people to Antarctica? Impractical and rude.
Hours passed, and the ravenous maws of the horde pierced his skin, tore his clothes, spilt his precious blood. Hours passed, and he finally broke free of the forest, the nearest city just a sprint away. He was safe for now, but the pack wouldn’t forget now that it had tasted his flesh. He would have to take a stand. He would have to visit a national park.
Even at the ticket gate, he could feel the hungry eyes from the cars stretched for a mile behind him. When the roads could bring him no closer to his destination, he exploded into a dead sprint, and his every footstep was echoed by an ever-growing legion.
Finally, he had reached his safe haven. A fifty-mile stretch of land, located in the state of Idaho, but under the jurisdiction of Wyoming. A legal black hole he prayed no one would ever find important enough to address. He’d asked a non-lawbound associate to prepare a stash for him there, years ago, but he never thought his need would be this dire.
Xavier turned to face the crowd, dressed in his funeral’s best. He bowed, producing two silver handguns from under his cape. “Welcome to the Yellowstone Death Zone.”
At last, the tide crashed against him.
|# ¿ Aug 5, 2018 06:25|
tyvm for the crit Uranium
|# ¿ Aug 14, 2018 06:22|
Twilight of the Dreaming Witch
While Mary laid in her bed, the villagers pounded at the barricaded door, screaming and threatening to set their torches to her cottage. Not her preferred sleeping aid; she typically lit incense.
All her usual ritual implements were already in place. A cat’s nail clippings, for curiosity. A robin’s feather, for escaping the earth. A pillow, for comfort.
Mary’s practiced breathing exercises worked like a charm, preventing her heart from racing as the world darkened around her, even as she could hear her wards shatter and wood begin to give. When the silence and the darkness fully enveloped her, she opened her eyes and sat up, leaving her body behind.
The portal to the dreamer’s world shimmered in front of her, floating several feet above her head. Distorted snippets of voices flowed from every direction.
“She’ll curse us all-”
“She already did, dammit-”
“Why? Why did this have to-”
She went through the motions of a deep breath, even if she technically didn’t have lungs, and the assault faded to a susurrus. Up she floated, through the portal she went.
The portal spat her out, and she landed roughly on damp soil. A glance around revealed only sickly, twisted trees. Mary looked back up through the portal, stared at her own peaceful face. As she reached out, grabbing hold of her own arm through the dream window, several men cried out in alarm, casting dark shadows over her bed as they rushed into her room. She grunted, bodily hauling her own body through the portal before the peasants reached her.
Once both Mary’s selves made it to the other side, the portal fizzled and vanished. Seeing as her plan had been to wait things out in the dream and then hop through the portal once everything had calmed down, this was less than ideal.
At least her pursuers couldn’t reach her. That much had worked. No one could reach her. Ever.
Mary took a deep breath, and then another, and then another, and then began to hyperventilate, and while she still technically didn’t have lungs, it sure felt like she did, and hot, sickly air rushed in and out of her mouth, and she broke into a coughing fit, sinking to her knees, and her body sank with her.
She’d figured that the two of them might’ve fused, or something, once they were together on the same side, but her ‘real’ body just sat there in her arms, like a disturbingly fleshy marionette. At least she was still warm. Still had a heartbeat. Mary closed her eyes and tightly hugged herself, and while that was strange and definitely pathetic, it was still comforting. Her two heartbeats, mental and physical, beat in unison; and while she was still alive, she could hope.
Her dream was now her home and her prison, so she might as well get acquainted with it. Mary stood up, brushed the soil off of her dress, and slung her body over her shoulder, grateful for all the years of chopping her own firewood - neither leaving her body unattended nor dragging it around in the dirt seemed appealing.
After wandering for a while - time was difficult to tell, with sun, moon, and stars absent from this sky - she felt she’d had the entire experience. It was a dark, humid swamp that lacked any sort of healthy greenery. She found the rotting cradles on-the-nose, but her dreams were never subtle.
She’d found pools of water, but trusted none of them. Mary glanced at her body, wondering if she would even feel dehydrated before her physical self wilted, and turned her attention back to where she was walking just in time to avoid crashing into an oak door that hadn’t existed a moment ago.
A knock came from the other side. Before Mary could react, the doorknob turned itself, opening, and a woman stepped through. Mary’s attention was captured by her comically oversized black, conical hat that swayed slightly in the breeze, making the rest of her body look miniscule in comparison. Her face was littered with exaggerated smile lines, and her grey ponytail nearly reached the floor. She looked like a child’s scribble of their grandmother.
“Not a very welcoming garden at all,” The woman said, frowning at the decaying foliage all around, before her gaze finally settled on the two Marys. She raised an eyebrow. “That’s unusual. Are you wrestling with some self-image issues, dear?”
“No, I-” Mary started to explain herself, but the woman ignored her, instead prodding her unconscious body.
“You’re identical! I figured your double’d have a hook nose, or ten moles, or whatever things girls your age worry about, but…” she trailed off, her eyes widening. Her face exploded into a grin. “Oh, it’s been centuries since I met another witch!” She cackled, hugging Mary aggressively enough that she almost toppled over.
“Centuries?” Mary attempted again, but the woman continued, positively sparking.
“I’ve been so rude! Forgive me, dear, most people I meet aren’t very interesting when they’re asleep, so I have my fun. Call me Bea - I’m a ghost, or maybe immortal. Never bothered to figure out the difference!” She cackled, then extended her hand with a smile.
Mary gingerly shook it. “How did you even get here?”
“Well, when you enter your dream, you leave your body, yes? To enter a different dream, you just leave your dream’s body, too. As far as I know mine’s still having a nice lie-down, right where I left it.”
“But do you know how to get back?”
“Nope! It’s not that bad. You start to stretch out a bit when you forget what you’re supposed to look like, but I think I suit myself.” She emphatically tapped her hat, and it wobbled. She cackled again, but quickly grew serious. “You weren’t trying to leave yourself behind, were you? You’re too young to sleep forever.”
Mary shook her head. “I was just… trying to escape.”
“Escape what, dear?”
And Mary told her everything. She didn’t mean to, but she couldn’t stop, even as her words turned to choked sobs. About the sleepless nights spent at the cribs of coughing infants, using every poultice and charm she had at her disposal, but failing every time, failing but still having to stand up and stumble out the door without a word to the grieving parents, because if she opened her mouth nothing but weakness would flow out, and she would break, and she couldn’t break because there was always another plagued young one to fail to save, more people to disappoint, and as the days wore her down the townspeople began to mistake her numbness for apathy, and then glee, and then the whispers spread. Then the fires started.
When Mary finished, Bea gently squeezed her hand. She hadn’t even noticed the woman had taken hold of it, but she didn’t flinch away.
“You did what you could, dear. If they hate you for that, well, they don’t deserve you.”
“Where do I go now, though? Where can I go?”
“Where else? Ahead, wherever that is.”
“I’ve lost everything, though, everyone - people who knew me for years. Would it be so bad for me to just… leave? To walk through dreams with you? Isn’t it lonely, by yourself?
“Sometimes it is, dreadfully so. But every few years I meet a bright young woman like you, and get the energy to keep walking for a while longer - but you’ve got a life to live, and you deserve more than a silly old witch and a kingdom of dead-eyed dreamers.”
Bea clapped twice, and a portal opened beneath Mary’s feet. “Rest well, my dear,” She muttered as she disappeared through the door, the dream fading around her.
Only one Mary fell through the other side of the portal, landing on a soft, unfamiliar bed. She laid in a wooden cabin on top of a hill overlooking a sunflower field, and the setting sun beamed warm light through the windows. A black cat that was curled up on a chair in the corner made a disgruntled noise, squinted at Mary, then decided she wasn’t worth investigating.
Mary took a deep breath, and this time, real air filled her lungs. She closed her eyes. Before long, she began to snore.
|# ¿ Aug 20, 2018 00:47|
fast crits, good crits
thanks for crits
|# ¿ Aug 21, 2018 03:59|