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[vampirelover890]

// I love vampires (890) (yes)

Why the why is writing so hard, and for what? If even writing a single, relatively perfect paragraph takes ages, how the literal heck to authors make entire books, man? Like what are those guys on? Lend me your wisdom, PLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASE

[vampirelover890]

// I am by no legal means an author nor have I ever been published, but would like to pitch in anyways. Writing is hard because emotions are hard. Putting a person’s thoughts, feelings, reactions, and little social queues that are hard to notice into legible words that make sense is really difficult. The intricacies of a unique smell, look, or texture can be almost indescribable, and yet people write. People write for other people. For educational purposes and for entertainment, people write essays and stories and books for other people to read. Paragraphs don’t need to be perfect. Ultimately, the words on a page are but a medium for the author, and like any other medium, such as paint or clay, there’s no one way to do it; no set rules restricting freedom. People write for people because they want to. They have stories pent up that they wish to expound unto the world. They have sadness, sorrow, joy, and cheer, and want to express it in a way that other people can interact with. One sentence at a time. People write about people for people. The only thing that every author has in common is that they’re on this one planet we all share.

TL;DR: Emotions are tough, people write because they wish to be heard by others, paragraphs don’t have to be perfect, books are crafted one sentence at a time, with care. Every single author is on Earth. Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk.

Why the why is writing so hard, and for what? If even writing a single, relatively perfect paragraph takes ages, how the literal heck to authors make entire books, man? Like what are those guys on? Lend me your wisdom, PLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASE

[vampirelover890]

Corpse of the Corporate Ladder (1/?)

(CW: Depiction of death, gore, dismemberment, and janitorial work ahead)

There was nothingness, indescribability. Weightlessness yet weight, feeling yet none, hunger yet- no… there was nothing to abet the deep, voracious hunger; and then there was light, and cold, and discomfort. The feelings began and wouldn’t stop! It existed; perhaps it had once not, but now, it undeniably did. It did not know what it was, nor why it existed, but its existence was indisputable. It’s eyes opened, taking in the white tiled floors of it’s birth place and the pale, smooth skin that belonged to none other than itself. It did not know where it was, nor its goal, but it knew it’s hunger grew.

As it began to adapt to its limbs, flexing the muscles in its body, not minutes after it’s birth and it could walk and comprehend. It surmised that its location was not natural, but artificial, it was surrounded by tiles and steel. Where it had come up with these ideas of material and naturalness in it’s new home, it could not tell you. It seemed to simply know.

A new strange smell presented itself outside of the room it occupied. It began to move, slowly yet surely towards the door, looking back at the strange metal casing in the wall it had previously been born out of, then carrying on. Closer and closer it approached to the new smell. It began to salivate as it came closer yet. The smell was almost… appetizing. Finally, it reached the door, and turned the handle. How it knew, it did not know, it simply did. It was met with a human at the other side of the door. The janitor, it could tell; how it could tell, it could not tell you. Before a sound could leave the janitor’s throat, it had already been ripped out.

As it sat, and ate its meal, the hunger regressed, but did not leave. It had detached the janitor’s head from her body, and began to rip apart her flesh and bone, nourishing itself with the janitor’s blood and marrow. As it reached her brain, it used the top of her skull as a bowl. The brain of the janitor held her memories and experience. The ideas and thoughts of Jamie McDell, the janitor, flowed into it’s head, imparting the knowledge required to successfully be a janitor, which seemed to suit it just fine. No one pays attention to the janitor, so long as they do their job. No one notices that the janitor is missing, so long as they do their job. The janitor is dead. No one is left to do their job. It began to worry. It would be found. Murdered, like it had done to the janitor. It wished to live, to experience, to eat. To continue the lifestyle it had only recently been blessed with. It would have to be the janitor. No one would notice a new janitor, so long as they do their job.

[vampirelover890]

The Moon’s Favorite (5/?)

Maria glanced at the new recruit at the other side of the guild, then got up from her table and walked over to his. She stood about 5 inches taller than him and her unimpressive chainmail and leather coat seemed almost luxurious compared to his sad, oversized suit which seemed to be covered in dog fur.

He looked up from his mug of ale, which he'd previously been practically drowning himself in, to meet Maria’s gaze, then backed the rest of glass, and asked, “Are you lost?”

“I was about to ask you the same thing, rookie.”

“Rookie definitely is not the right word, but I guess it fits; we’ve never officially been part of an adventurer’s guild.”

“Well then rookie it is. I’m Maria Mazelina, and you look like you could use a party, and we’re down an adventurer. Whaddya say?”

“Oh god, anything but a party. I hate parties. Too many people to worry about.”

“That’s sounding’ like quitter talk mister. Who knows, maybe this party’ll change your mind.”

“You know what, fine, I’ll bite. The name’s Anderson, please call me Anders, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Alright Mr. Anders, the rest of our party’s sittin’ right on over there. I’m sure they’ll love ya.”

Maria led Anders to her table, where the 3 other members of their party sat. Maria pointed to the tall knight in a deep red armor. “That’s Slayer, we call them that cuz we don’t actually know their name. In fact, they almost never say anything to us, but they’ve been a part of this party the longest.” Maria then pointed to a man of Dragon’s Descent, with green scaled skin. “That one there is Gail, he’s the son of a mistake and a Poison Dragon, but is reliable in a pinch,” Gail gave Anders a sincere wave, “and that,” continued Maria, pointing to the Insekt, “is our good ol’ buggy boy Vendrick. He’ll give ya the heebie jeebies one second, and the best damn back massage you ever had in your life the next.” Vendrick shot finger guns at Anders with two of his six arms as the other four were preoccupied with knitting a sort of scarf with a webbed pattern. “An’ finally, there’s me,” said Maria, “I am the leader of this rag tag group of shitheads, and am formally inviting you to join our party.”

After a moment of silence, Anders spoke, “That was perhaps the worst introduction to a group of people I have ever heard anyone give, ever. We're in.”

After much rejoicing at the party’s table, Vendrick asked, “Anders, what do you do?” To which Anders replied, “Well I’ve dedicated my life to researching the origins of magic, and as such I’ve dabbled in a bit of alchemy, so I’ll probably be the most useful as a supportive alchemist.”

“Sick, dude,” said Vendrick, “last alchemist we had was actually 3 goblins in a trench coat who tried to steal all our shit. I'm not saying i think you’re 3 goblins, I’m just sayin’ you’ve got the outfit for it.”

“Well you’ve called me over, and introduced us to your party. I assume you did so because your party was about to go on a job, didn’t have a fourth member, and a new rookie with no friends just walked on in?” Anders asked Maria.

“Well,” said Maria, “yeah, that’s exactly it. We’re headed to Marccina to see if we can find anything worth salvaging. Some people say that what ever did it is still there, but we’ll be fine. Whatever did do it, man or beast, is probably long gone.”

Three days, and a couple close encounters with thieves and monsters, later, Maria’s party arrived at Marccina’s closed gates. In front stood two Knights of the Queen.

One of the Knights stepped towards the party, and claimed, “Woah there, travelers! Beyond lies the ruins of the city of Marccina. The Queen has decreed the city safe only for those well trained and equipped. State your business!”

Maria quickly responded, saying, “We are adventurers of the Ynsdryth Guild. We ask that we be admitted entrance into Marccina to assure the city’s security and eliminate or otherwise drive out any thief or monster living within.”

“Well, I’ll be damned. It’s been 4 months and you’re the first party to decide to wander the streets in the name of the security of the kingdom. You must either be brave or crazy.”

“I’m afraid it’s the latter, good Knight.”

“Well then, the Queen has said nothing about the sanity of those who enter, only the preparedness. You may proceed.”

Gail leaned towards Maria and said, “Maria that is the most enunciated and formal I’ve ever heard you say anything.”

Maria retorted, “Well don’t get used to it hun. All I know is that them knights of the kingdom prefer speakin’ in their ‘formal dialect.’”

As Maria finished her thought, the heavy wooden doors that act as the only way in and out of Marccina’s tall stone walls groaned open, and presented a scene of rotten corpses and dried blood. As Maria’s party walked in, the knights closed the gates behind them, and were told to open them once more when they heard a knock from the other side, else they could assume the party dead.

As the party wandered the streets filled with dead, motionless corpses and blood stuck to the cobblestone paving, Vendrick started conversation.

“So, y’all uh, think this was some sort of ultra violent monster or large group of bandits or maybe it’s-”

“It’s close.” interjected Slayer, which took everyone in the party by surprise. Anders hadn’t heard the knight speak in the 4 or so days he’s known them, but Gail, Vendrick, and Maria, who’d been traveling with them for perhaps years seemed mortified. Maria turned to Anders and said, “In the 5 years I’ve adventured with Slayer, they’ve only ever spoken twice before. Once, on the day I met ‘em, they’d appeared on my ship after escaping from a pocket dimension they were dragged into by a Sea Bohemoth, an’ they said, ‘Hello,’ and the second was when we encountered a Demon who’d been summoned by cultists, an’ they yelled, ‘Run.’ I think we’ve got a lot more to worry about than squatters or bandits.”

Anders was equally as shocked as Maria, but for far different reasons. As the implications of Slayer’s words had time to sink in, Prometheus chimed into their shared headspace, saying, “Deephall, I fear this Slayer fellow may be onto us. If this gets too dicey, I'll have to make sure we don't have a party anymore."

As night fell over Marccina, the party found an alleyway to sleep in, and as they were about to settle, Vendrick crawled down from a roof, telling news of a tavern two blocks down. There the party would be able to at least avoid sleeping on the ground. As the party approached the tavern, the building on the opposite side of the road caught everyone's eye. A house directly in front of the tavern with the words, "Hello, Deephall" scratched deep into the building. Maria opened the tavern’s front door to find a scene seemingly 10 times worse than anything they'd seen outside. The bodies were torn apart, limb from limb, and the stone floor was a deep crimson from the blood that had been spilt. Gail, in an attempt to lighten the mood said, "Well at least whoever slept here the night or the Massacre must have been relieved when they didn't have to pay for their room."

Suddenly, Slayer drew their sword, and looked about confused for a while, then spoke, for the second time that day.

"Anders, you were here once."

Prometheus thought to Anders, "Alright, thats enough of that, I'll-" to which Anders thought back, "No, please, allow me to attempt to deescalate."

Anders spoke to Slayer, saying, "That is correct, we've been here, but that was about a day before," Anders gestured around, "whatever happened here, or out there, happened."

Maria pitched into the conversation, asking, "Anderson, why do you keep sayin' that?"

"Saying what?"

"'We.' You say 'we' instead of 'I' when talkin' about yourself."

"Well you see, we- I- uh- shit…"

Anders raised his arms, and began backing up. Slayer's sword was trained on Anders, and Maria had pulled out her revolver. Gail had armed himself with a knife and Vendrick had grabbed and smashed an empty bottle from behind the bar’s counter. The party surrounded Anders. He spoke aloud and clearly, saying, "Alright, I give up, I tried, I failed. You're up!"

Gail was going to ask Anders what he'd meant, but was swiftly answered as Anders' form began to disfigure itself. His figure became more imposing, and his demeanor of became that of something ready to kill for sport. Vendrick, after a tense moment, said, "Oh… I get it. The suit wasn't made for him, it was made for that thing!"

"Thing? You dare to call me a thing," questioned Prometheus. "I promise you now bug, I will be the last 'thing' you will ever see."

[vampirelover890]

HEHEHEHAHAHA

IVE FOUND UR BLONG

*BLING

*LOG

*BOG

*SOG

*DOG

*BLUG

*BLOY

*BLOT

*CLOT

*LOT

*SOT

*SPOT

*BLONG

BLOG!!

HEHEHAHAH

My sibling, everyone. Say hello.

[vampirelover890]

The Moon’s Favorite (4/?)

"You come with news?" inquired the Queen.

"Yes my, uh, Queen, um I've been told to let you know that Sir. Anderson is arriving to the castle within the hour," responded the knight.

"Oh! I- I see… Well then I must prepare at once, please close the chamber doors on your way out.” The Queen quickly shooed the knight out of her chambers and sat down once more. Her heart was beating… fast… faster… it’s been nearly a month since her encounter with Anders. She had a million questions a minute about whatever it was, there was no time to waste. The Queen prepared herself in the proper manner, which she found to be far too much trouble to go through regularly, however today would be an exception.

As Anders walked towards the Queen’s Castle, he dreaded his confrontation with her. The Gate Guard stopped Anders as he walked up to perform a routine pat down, and gave Anders a sour look as he passed through. Anders wandered about the castle for a few mindless minutes before coming across the Royal Mage’s study once again. What was previously covered with strange formulas Anders knew not the meaning of, creations, and devices the use of which Anders could only imagine, was now covered from top to bottom in paperwork. At the end of the room, Anders could make out a large board covered in parchment clippings and images. Each was connected by multiple threads of red twine, and at the center of it all was Anders himself. Just as he was about to leave to meet with the Queen, the door to the Mage’s chambers swung open, and the Queen announced her presence.

“Sir. Anders Deephall, it’s been a while.” Said the Queen.

“Indeed it has, my Queen.” Replied Anders.

“Please, call me Viridian, we’ve much to discuss and if I have to hear another person speak to me in a formal manner I may have to burn this country down from the inside out.”

“Well then, Miss Viridian, lead the way.”

“What on planes could you mean. We’re already here! You’ve no clue how much I hate that throne. I would much rather speak in here.”

“Alright, well I’ve come here to discuss this,” said Anders, gesturing at Viridian, “and that,” he said, turning towards the board that contained his face at the center.

“Well this,” said Viridian, almost mocking Anders, “has been a mess for a month, especially because my people hate me and think I overthrew the Queen, and also almost died to the hand of an unknown creature, which transitions me directly into that. I have no clue who you are Anders. Are you who you say you are? Do you really know what happened at Marccina? What in the gods’ plane was that thing in the throne room a month ago?”

“Yes, yes, and I know as much as you. Which doesn’t really answer things, so I shall answer you sincerely. I am Anders Deephall, a scholar and researcher of magic and its origins. I was in Marccina to witness a rare astrological event when the town was painted a deep red with the gore of the innocent, which was when I met the subject of your third question. And the third question is a bit of a compl–”

As Anders began to answer the third question, he was suddenly interrupted by a crack in his spine, followed by another, and a third. Anders’ skeleton began to dislocate and rearrange, he screamed in pain as the bones in his body failed his form. He grew in size and stature, filling his previously baggy clothes with muscle and fur. Viridian took a step back, as Anders no longer stood before her as he did yet 10 seconds ago, but the creature that had nigh killed her near 30 moons ago. With a deep, satisfied sigh, it spoke to Viridian.

“As for your third question, and perhaps the many more to come, I believe, I, will be able to answer them, Madame.”

“Well, then you may go ahead, Sir-”

“Prometheus.”

“Sir. Prometheus. You may continue.”

“I lived with the Gods who crafted this very plane of existence, I argued, and drank, and laughed with them like friends; and yet, when I created my own plane, they disapproved. I offered all who lived upon it freedom and knowledge, the knowledge of the Gods. The aforementioned Gods appreciated not the idea of shared knowledge with those inferior creatures of a plane, and so they took it from me, my plane. They crushed it into cosmic ashes and threw it upon the vast black sky of this one. They sealed me away, shattered amongst the fragments of my world, which you call the Stars and the Moon, but on the night of the Marccina Massacre, the celestial figures aligned, and the Gods had grown ignorant. I saw my chance and took it, but I was not complete. As such, I had no body to inhabit, and Anders had looked to me so much when researching the stars, so I thought I’d finally look back.”

“Alright so to summarize, I am speakingwith a being on par of the Gods who formed this very plane of existence, who was banished for giving the people of his plane the knowledge of the Gods, and has come back to this plane to enact revenge in the vessel of the only one who’d shown interest in his prison of eternity?”

“Yes, that is an accurate summary.”

“Oh my God- sorry, I mean, just, this is revolutionary. Me, the nobody witch from downtown, am speaking with a Primordial Creator?”

“No, you the Queen of this nation, are speaking to a Primordial Creator who was banished. You’ve likely lost the favor of the Gods for simply being in the same room as me.”

“May I ask more questions?”

“You may.”

“Anders seems oblivious to your motivation. Why is that?”

“Alas, Deephall is a strange fellow. See, Deephall has a sort of carnal need and want for answers. I co-exist within his mind and know his every thought. At my whim, I am able to assume control of the body and mind, and turn into the creature you see before you. Anders falls into a deep sort of slumber as I fulfill my desires, and when I wish, I allow Anders to control the body once more. This frustrates Anders to no end, and he will do anything to know what goes on at night. I’ve promised him the knowledge which has angered the Gods before, and he would kill to know that which even the Gods have considered taboo. I ask that you do not tell Deephall of what we discuss today, as it will add to the number of things he does not know.”

“Alright, then why kill the Queen?”

“To cause discord and outrage across the continent. It would start a war like none have ever seen before, yes?”

Viridian knew Prometheus spoke the truth. The Queen of Ynsdryth was the most commanding political force on the continent, having signed the Great Ceacefire 50 years ago. With Viridian’s predecessor dead, the political stability of the continent has fallen to shambles, and while she has managed to keep it together enough as to prevent war, the tensions between nations grows every day.

“Finally, what is your end goal?” Viridian inquired.

Prometheus responded, “My goal is to slay the Gods and establish my plane once more. Now, if you will excuse me Queen Viridian.”

Prometheus gave his final answer, and then nodded goodbye, and Viridian saw the man she began this conversation with emerge from the beast. As Anders stood, in his large, baggy clothes, he couldn’t help but wonder what Viridian and Prometheus had discussed.

Viridian spoke.

“Anders, oh my Gods, he’s so hot.

“Pardon?”

“He looks so good in that suit you slump around in.”

“Alright well next time you see him, you can tell him to his face, I don’t wanna hear it,” said Anders, “I’m leaving. I think we’re going to sign up for the local guild soon.”

“Oh? Have any big plans?”

“I think we’re going just to listen to the rabble and rumors.”

“Alright, well if you plan on splattering the city with the flesh of its citizens, let me know in advance.”

As they walked away, Prometheus spoke through Andersd’ normal form, assuring the Queen, “I will.”

[vampirelover890]

// ok so i might have almost burnt down the kitchen a couple times but i think im cooking. Expect next part of The Moon’s Favorite soon maybe.

[vampirelover890]

// guys what the heck, i told you to remind me. the only reason i didnt forget is because i remembered the no one reminded me

[vampirelover890]

// somebody remind me tomorrow to stop being lazy and write the next part of The Moon’s Favorite

[vampirelover890]

// random 11pm thought but I’ve realized that the way I’m attempting to write Warren and Prometheus has a big Peter Parker/Symbiote relationship feeling/inspiration, and honestly, I’m completely fine with it, and will probably lean into it come part 4, which should be soon… probably…

Oh also I have another story conceptualized on the backburner

[vampirelover890]

The Moon's Favorite (3/?)

"My queen! Surely you don't mean to actually intend on listening to the man!" Viridian begged the Queen not to give the man with no last name a chance. The queen responded back.

"Viridian, I know you mean well, and I'm sure that your concern is most likely based off of good intention, however, I feel that I am partially responsible for Marccina, and if we can gain even a hint as to who is after the sanctity of this country, then by the gods, we'll take it."

Viridian knew that attempting to persuade her liege when she'd had her mind set on something was nigh impossible. As Viridian left, she'd had a thought, and left one of her Speaking Scrolls just to the left of the door, out of sight from the throne. Viridian knew that the Queen wouldn't appreciate this, but she felt it was for the Queen's own good. Viridian slinked off to her private study where she found a man, wearing an outfit 3 sizes too big for him looking around at her experiments. As she looked at him, she realized that he was quite peculiar, even despite his bad taste in clothes. She spoke, "You there, man of curiosity and evil, what business have you in this room?"

The man spoke back, "No one seemed to stop me from entering this room, when considering that the castle guard have been quite strict as to where i can go, most likely due to my urgent request, makes me think that you are one of the few, if not the only one who knows what truly goes on in here. Am I right?"

"You are quite astute I must say. No one in the castle truly appreciates what I do here, except for the queen and seemingly you. I must ask sir, what your name is, else this conversation may become quite awkward.

"Anders, scholar and servant, and you?"

"Viridian, witch and inventor, indebted to the queen."

"Ah... perfect, a beautiful Royal Knight I'd met on the street told me of your work, the scroll apparatus?"

"Yes, the Speaking Scroll, my latest work."

"I must know how it does, but also must address the queen shortly. Important matters and such."

"Yes I've heard, Mr. Anders no-last-name. Matters the likes of Marccina?"

"Yes indeed. Now if you'll excuse me Lady Viridian, I must leave you. May we meet again."

"Indeed..." Viridian spoke as Anders walked out of the room. Viridian felt uneasy speaking to Anders, as if there were someone listening in on their conversation. Anders himself also seemed to be dancing about the subject of his purpose in the castle, as if he was trying to leave as little an impression anyone with a name was there at all. Viridian could usually sense an emotion or two when speaking to a person. Fear, indignity, lust, whichever the person strongly felt at the time, and yet Anders was giving off so many mixed signals at once, curiosity, lust, malcontent, and envy, and yet, none were pointed towards Viridian herself. As Viridian reflected on her encounter with the man, she'd heard the Speaking Scroll in her room begin to connect with the one left in the Queen's chambers.

Viridian could hear the doors of the chamber open then shut as a person walked in. The Queen spoke. "You who have come here tonight, I understand you have important information that regards national security?"

"Yes my Queen," Anders replied, "You see, I know who killed those thousands of people in Marccina, and know that they're out for your blood next. I was in Marccina the day before, researching the magical and strange. I'd stayed at an in near the center of town, and after a long night of drinking, I retreated to the room I payed for, locked the door, and went to sleep. From then, you know the rest of the story, the thousands of innocent people were slaughtered in the night, and the streets were filled with bones and flesh by morning. That morning, I awoke to find the tavern I'd drank in the previous night in the same condition as the streets were left in, and there, I was offered a deal I could not refuse. My name is Anders Deephall, and I have come to warn you my Queen, of your coming death! Your very own Royal Mage, Viridian the Witch, will assume your throne!"

Viridian began sprinting to the Queen's chambers to defend herself in front of the only voice she respected in the country. As she arrived, she witnessed a hulking figure, covered in fur and stained in blood, holding the two halves of the Queen in it's separate hands. Viridian stifled a scream, but the unique smell of her magic cut through the marrow and gore, alerting the beast to her presence.

It spoke, in a deep, growling tone, "Ah, and here comes the mastermind behind the recent regicide, the Royal Mage herself."

Viridian turned and attempted to run, but it was faster. The beast crouched down on all fours and sprinted down Viridian, grabbing her arm. At this distance, she could see the horrible face of the Queen's killer. Wolf-like in nature, she could more reasonably make out his figure, and noticed that it was wearing clothes... They were familiar, perfectly tailored to a creature of this stature, but much baggier on someone she'd seen not to long ago.

"Sir. Anders... Deephall... what a marvel you are." Viridian said in awe of the wolf's treacherous demeanor and impressive power. The wolf replied.

"You were listening in... smart... I shall keep you alive, and you will take your Queen's position. I was planning to burn this country to the ground, but perhaps a country under my control is better than one reduced to rubble."

The wolf let go of the Royal Mage, and even after seeing it rip her Queen in half, she felt oddly flustered. Her heart was beating in her chest, but not out of guilt, nor fear, nor disgust... Viridian and never felt so attached to a person in her life. As the wolf ran away, Viridian felt empty, she wanted more of it's mercy, she needed more of it's touch, and for it's approval, she'd do anything.

[vampirelover890]

The Moon’s Favorite (2/?)

“It’s been three months since the slaughter at Marccina and yet we’ve still no clue who’s done this!” Cried an effeminate voice from around the corner. Anders was walking down the cobblestone road of Helinth, the royal capital, as he heard this exclamation of rage, and stopped in his tracks. Peeking his head around the corner, Anders spotted a female Royal Knight, about 6 feet tall with her blonde hair cut short, screaming into a magical scroll the likes Anders hadn’t seen before. As Anders approached the knight, she caught sight of him, and asked, “You there… why do the clothes on your back look as if they were not tailored to yourself? Why, those could fit a man a foot taller than myself, and even I trump you in size.”

About 2 weeks after Prometheus' subjugation of the scholar, Anders woke up to his clothes having been completely replaced. Prometheus had gone out at night and somehow convinced, most likely threatened, and afterwards, most definitely ate, a tailor to have clothes specifically designed for the beast-like figure of Prometheus' empowered vessel. As such, he wore the large white dress shirt and brown vest. Anders resembled a child in his parent's outift. To the credit of Prometheus' dinner, even though it was quite large, the two piece suit was still quite comfortable.

Anders felt it was easiest and least suspicious to simply tell some of the truth, and replied, “They’re very comfortable.”

“I… see… anyways, how can I be of service to you?” Asked the knight.

“Yes, couple of questions, I’ll start with easiest to answer. First, what on the planes was that beautiful scroll you held not to long ago.”

“This,” she said, pulling out the scroll for demonstration, “is the most recent creation of Viridian, the Royal Mage, it is an arcane scroll that lets you openly converse with any who has another, as if in person.”

“What madness it must take to dream up something as amazing as such," Anders pondered aloud. "Secondly," he began again, "what do you know about the Marccina Massacre?”

“Oh, you want to know about the Marccina Massacre, eh? Well let me tell you, this has been all I’ve thought about for the past three months. We know it must have been some sort of massive monster or large organization, as a city that big could not have been systematically slaughtered in one night by any one man. I personally like the monster theory as it could explain the large gashes left upon houses and shops, but it doesn’t help explain the message left behind by the culprit. We’ve looked far and wide through our archives to find some intelligent create that goes by Deephall, as well as any large organization, but we’ve found nothing. I was supposed to be on knight there that night, but my horse had been slain the day before by a bandit. I feel I must find and put to justice the ones responsible.”

“Interesting, now next I’d like-”

“Deephall, you bore me,” hissed Prometheus internally, “you know why we’re here, just ask her already, else I will.”

“Are you alright, sir?” Inquired the knight.

“Yes, yes, sorry, got lost in a train of thought. Anyhow, last question, how does one arrange a meeting with the Queen?”

"You, a man I've never met nor seen in the capital ever before, not even a glance, wish to meet the Queen?" The knight inquired.

"Well, yes its about very important matters, you see..." Anders got closer to the knight, and whispered in a low voice. "I have reason to believe that the queen may be next to fall to the hands of whatever was responsible for the Marccina Massacre, man or beast, what ever it is, it's coming for her next."

"What is your name, sir!" Asked the knight worriedly.

"I am Anderson, scholar. All of what I have said is true, and if you wish to see the horror responsible for Marccina put to justice, I must see the queen."

"Horror? How dare you, Deephall." thought Prometheus sarcastically.

Anders had almost had enough snarky remarks from what seemed to be a malicious deity living in his head to have a reason to slaughter a whole town himself, no Prometheus required, and yet he persevered. Nothing mattered to Anders more than the study of the unknown, and if the unknown wished Anders to topple a monarchy, then Anders would burn the down the whole state. Anders didn't know himself, or what Prometheus got up to while Anders was unconscious, and the thought of ever finding out was what made Anders' heart beat.

[vampirelover890]

The Moon’s Favorite (1/?)

Anderson “Anders” Deephall awoke with a start, looked around his small room, and decided it was time enough to get out of bed. Anders had no recollection of what had happened last night, and figured that it must have been an eventful one filled with drinks at the tavern, as were many before. After dressing himself, Anders walked down the stairs from his room in the in to the tavern and discovered that he may not have to pay for his room anymore.

Clearly some cosmic force favored Anders l, as almost every inch of the tavern was covered in blood, guts, and bones. There had been a massacre last night, and somehow, Anders had both slept through it and been spared. Cautiously, Anders snuck into the kitchen and fixed himself breakfast. Of course he would report the incident to the City Guard, but he’d also wished to investigate himself before alerting them. Anders by trade is a researcher, and by heart the same, intrigued by the unnatural, the horrors and magic the world has to offer, and the bloodied bar was the perfect scenario for such subjects to occur. As Anders wandered the bloodbath, he’d noticed large scratches upon the walls and furniture. As he followed the scarred wood with his hands, he muttered, “Whatever did this must have been a magnificent beast,” to which a deep, gravelly, voice whispered in his ear, “I’m flattered.”

Anders whipped about, searching for the voice which had given its gratitude, but to no avail. He’d decided he should go and do the responsible thing and report the murders to the city guard. As Anders opened the door to the Tavern he’d stayed at for the past 3 months, he was greeted by the blood of the innocent and damned smeared across the city streets and houses, and clawed upon the side of the house across the street were the words, ‘Hello, Deephall.’

What Anders had assumed to be some sort of cosmic mercy seemed to be more like one big cosmic joke, sparing him and slaughtering not a whole Tavern, but a street, or perhaps a city. Then came the voice once more, slightly louder this time, “You know how this happened, yes?” Anders looked around yet again, but to no avail, for there was no messenger. Anders replied, yelling into the empty street, “No! What on the gods’ plane have you done, why have you done it, and who are you!?” The voice replied back, “I, as you may or may not have noticed, was hungry last night, and as to who I am; I am the one who left you alive, and that’s all you should care about for now.”

“Why me!?” Anders screamed to the sky, not sure of who he was talking to.

“I left you alive because you are my vessel into the world. The man who wants to know everything. The man who’ll do anything to learn. The man who’d brandish a blade against any who stand in the way between him and knowledge. I left you alive because you’re my favorite man alive on this plane of being.”

Anders, while ashamed, knew the voice spoke the truth. He had a deep lust for the unknown and an insatiable hunger for the chance to know it. Anders thought himself more intelligent than most, and while he could barter, slip, or fight his way out of most unfavorable situations, he felt this one wouldn’t be so easy. Resigned to whatever fate he would be forced to exist through, Anders asked a question, “You were hungry last night?”

“Ah yes, starving in fact, it’s been years since I’d eaten, and frankly I felt like I could eat an entire city if I had the option too.”

“If you ate and slew the people of this city, then why do you need me?”

“Ah, well, I cannot truly physically manifest myself, and so I must use someone’s likeness as a vessel.”

“Are you telling me that you ran around in my bod-”

“Your body? Oh no, no, no, no little Deephall that’s not how it works. You live in my body, and the reason I keep you around is to partake in my every whim that I do not wish to do myself. Interaction with the humans and other mortal species of this plane is your job. Whenever I wish it, I will do what I please at night, you will have no say in it, nor memory of it, and you will not question me. As a reward for that, you may keep control of your body for most of the month.”

“Understood. So when you go out at night in your body, and still look like me? I feel that would be detrimental to whatever social front I attempt to put up.”

“Ah, yes, well that’s where we come into the second part of our deal. My power is too much for your frail mortal body to handle, and as such, you are disfigured into a large beast, resembling a wolf. Perhaps in times of conflict, I may temporarily grant upon you such power.”

“Finally, and perhaps indignantly, what may I call you?”

“Ah… hmm,” the voice thought for a bit, then finally came up with an answer, “Prometheus.”

“Prometheus, then. I understand that I’ve no choice in this commandeering of what was previously my body, which is now yours, and I understand that I am most likely expendable and was chosen on a whim, and will submit to your every word out of the wish for my self preservation.”

“Good. Stand tall, Deephall. You are the vessel of Prometheus. Stay alive long enough, and I shall reward you with knowledge no mortal should ever wield.”

Within Anders’ he felt a rising heat. He could feel his body physically reacting to the idea of forbidden knowledge. He had to have it, and would kill any in the name of Prometheus to get it.

[vampirelover890]

// Hi I’m an idiot who has no professional experience with writing, but do it anyways. This is a secondary blog where I let my mind shit out the stories it wants to tell. Expect lots of vampires, and maybe a werewolf or two. Also swears, probably lots of those too.

I’ll answer asks. I like to blab so maybe those’ll give me a good excuse to.

[vampirelover890]

// that last post is supposed to be the last part of To Hunt a Vampire, and while I feel like I rushed it, and it was a gimmicky, im still quite happy with it, but now I’m not sure what to do with this account, or the burner I made to tell Nick’s story. I’ll probably keep vampirelover890 going for any other stories I write, and I’ll most likely just never post to theslayerhunterpeoplekiller again; it served its purpose. Expect more of my bullshit in the future, I’ll probably keep writing about vampires (duh) but also maybe I’ll end up writing a story ‘bout a DnD character I never got to play but still regard as my favorite character. Au revoir.

[vampirelover890]

To Hunt a Vampire (17/17)

“These 17 pieces of evidence comprise my case to you, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, which proves that Nicholas Killer is in fact, a killer.” said the prosecutor.

The judge slammed his gavel, demanding order in the court. Nick sat there next to his public defendant, and he thought to himself, “who’d of thunk it, me being charged with the crimes I didn’t do. It’s his fault, that fucking Slayer, he did this to me,” to which the Slayer thought back, “Oh yes I did, but can’t you FEEL it. It’s close, you can smell it can’t you, the faint hint of blood in it’s wretched throat? The vampire is near,” to which Nick did not answer.

The jury emerged with their verdict 3 hours later; Nicholas Killer was guilty of the murder of 35 civilians and would be sentenced to life in prison. Nick looked to his mother, who gave a disappointed look back. Nick knew his mother, which meant he’d never meet his brother.

3 days later, in the highest security cell in New Wallachia, Massachusetts, came a visitor. Nick looked up through the slot in his think metal door to see someone he’d respected in his earlier years. New Wallachia’s favorite police captain, Warren Amdrill.

“Hey ‘Hammy’, how’s the weather out there” hissed Nick mockingly.

“It ain’t too bad little Killer, it ain’t too bad at all, but it is a bit sunny for my liking.”

“Why are you here?”

Captain Amdrill sighed. “I’m here to talk to the other one.”

“Well lord knows I don’t want to.” Nick said, laying down and going limp.

Nick awoke with a jolt and looked up at the Captain.

“Ah, Chief- no, wait, Captain Amdrill,” the killer said, “what a surprise!”

Captain Amdrill unlocked the door to the cell and stepped inside and closed it behind him.

“Here you are, The Slayer, the man that evaded me and my boys for 2 whole months. Y’know Slayer you’ve set yourself a record. Nobody’s ever broken a law in this town and gotten away with it for more than a week, but here you are. No crosses, no whips, no garlic… just you, your thoughts, and his.”

“Well, I like to think my methods respectable, and my goal a noble one, b–”

“Oh but your goals were noble indeed Sir Slayer! Everyone in this town is just so… bland! But you… you dare to break the rules, you stand against the clear threat when everyone else lives in ignorance.”

The Captain flashed the Slayer a toothy grin, showing off his pearly whites, pristine gums, and well kept fangs. As he leapt through the air, eyes set on the Slayer’s jugular, he couldn’t help but imagine the wonderful flavors his social defiance has added to the already complex taste of blood.

And oh how sweet it was.

[vampirelover890]

To Hunt a Vampire (16/17)

Fuck. Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck. I think I’ve figured it out. 3 years ago, I was in a mental hospital due to my bleak outlook on life and a traumatic experience from a family reunion. I got released about 2-3 months ago. I’m crashing at my mom’s place now and the basement is where she would keep her police work. I’ve been obsessed with vampires for like 12 years of the 22 I’ve been alive. And only now. Just now. I read those journal entries multiple times trying to figure out how I fit into all of this. I didn’t event realize until right now. Fuck. This is my handwriting.