Mourncrow holds hundreds of epic stories. This is only one of them, and like all good stories begin, this one began on a dark and stormy night at the old inn just outside of town. It's rumored to be haunted and is infamous for its tourist-attracting horrors, but the regulars are either overly enthusiastic about their thrill-seeking or too jaded to be really affected by it.
It's a slow night tonight, far from Halloween and with weather that would normally attract customers keeping the roads leading up to the inn muddy and slick. Only the faithful or the soon-departing remain, leaving the lobby and eating areas sourly quiet. A tall, weary vampire slouches at the bar, nursing a tankard and musing over his troubles.
The clicking of flat black shoes on the tile floor echoed through the empty hotel. The walls and rooms were themed in cherry wood and a dark blood red color. It was late now and most guests, if any, were in bed. A tall, lean man in a dark suit walks down the enormous steps towards the front entrance. His dark eyes glide over the interior of his family's mansion-like hotel. Everything is perfectly clean, yet their is an eerie, unwelcoming feel to it. As he strolls through, he glides his gloved hand along a tall, thick white pillar.
Vincent stops at a large window, next to the main entrance. His expression is calm, yet undetermined. Then a soothing melody echoed through the waiting room. Just then, a black crow swooped down from the stairs onto the man's shoulder. Pulling out his pocket watch briefly, he started walking towards the bar area. "Looks like the midnight quintet started a bit early tonight."
A taller and broad shouldered woman walked through the door, carrying a tightly wrapped package over her shoulder. It was rather large to be honest, but she seemed quite capable of carrying such a heavy load. She walked over tot he bar and looked at the man sitting there. "Hey bub, you the one who ordered the meatbags?" He sure looked the type to be ordering something like this after all.
The man turned his head slowly and regarded her with grey, tired eyes. She stank of lycanthropy. He sneered at her, altogether not in the mood to be courteous to someone who reeked of blood and wolf like she did, and he couldn't help but salivate hungrily at the meatbags over her shoulder. He did, however, still retain his good sense and common courtesy, and instead of, say, killing her and devouring the contents of her bag, he merely glared and grunted what could easily be assumed as 'hell no.'
Vincent stepped forward with a pointed finger upwards, "That would be mine madam." He gestured to his crow and it took flight. A few moments later, it returned and perched back on Vincent's shoulder. One of his servants, a planter, given his rough exterior walked in and took the meatbag from the woman without hesitation. It was almost as if he had no mental capacity whatsoever. When he turned and left, one could note that their was a steel plate and a long cut in his skull. He left before anything could really be noted. He bowed down and crossed an arm along his stomach, "I am Vincent, master of the Ivanov manor." He gestured to her, still bowed. It was gesturing to take her hand and kiss it's top. Judging by how quick and suave he spoke, he obviously had his manners down packed. "Please to meet you, miss...."
"
Escrima, Shara Escrima." She replied, holding out her hand for him to kiss it. She blushed deeply at the gesture, never really being given such a lovely gesture before. "I would have gone 'round the back, Master Vincent, but nobody was there to make the pick up as usual."
Vincent noted the scars on his knuckles, but refrained from hesitating. After pecking her hand, he stood straight up and glanced back at the open door she burst through earlier. Rain was pouring in heavily. His eyes went back to hers now. His face seemed very cynical suddenly, "Care to spend the night?" Vincent gestured towards the large staircase leading the hallways upon hallways of rooms.
Escrima found herself blushing when his eyes met her's and cursed herself silently for it. She looked out the open door and then down at herself. She was drenched from head to toe. It never really donned on her before. Maybe she should invest in a carriage or something...Sh
e looked at him and smiled. "I could use a place to dry off for now. Weather like this'll be the death of ya."
"Here's hoping," The vampire at the bar grumbled, sipping at his pint irritably. He couldn't help but overhear considering their conversation and the quintet playing were the only noises in the entire hotel. He hated nights like these, and Escrima's overwhelming scent of dead blood and musky lycanthropy was giving him a headache.
A tall and very wet man entered. He appeared to be in his thirties and looked warn from travel. He was wearing a sopping wet fedora, lamasu skin jacket, aged white shirt and brown pants. He smelled of sea salt and there was a fine layer of stubble on his chin. He shook the rain out of his coat and poured the water from the bill of his hat into a plant next to the door. Shaking the moisture from his hair he took in the room. He noted the vampire and Lycanthrope and couldn't quit place the species of the man speaking with her. Nevertheless, if he was speaking to a butcher delivering goods he must work here. He approached the well dressed man and replied. "I'll take one of your finest rooms, a warm bath and please send someone to fetch the laundry." He spoke with a fine southern accent and tossed a gold coin to the man "And I've a horse outside, see that he gets a bucket of oats. Wolfgang Vaughn Wolfram, where can I sign the registry?"
Master Vincent snatched the coin out in the air. Glancing at it, he brought out a handkerchief and rubbed the dirt off. "Wonderful." he smirked, seeing that they were going to have two more guests then expected. His crow took flight and returned with a clip board in it's claws. The crow was significantly larger then typical crows in the area. Grabbing the clip board, he faced it towards Wolfgang, "Here, here...and initial here. he pointed out. The large galoot who took the meat bag slumped outside and closed the door behind him. He was heading out to tend to the horse. Vincent's attention went to a darkened corner of the room. A figure emerged out of the darkness. "Miss Margaret?"
The figure, when it came into the light, was one of the hotel maids. Her completion was noticeable pale and their were dark rings around her eyes that made them appear sunken. Margaret's hair was frizzy to say that least and very snarly. She was wearing a typical black and white maid dress and top, accompanied with apron. It was even more notable that her apron was covered in what looked like dirt, dust...and a strange dried red pigment. She walked with a strange limp, her body sort of, curved a certain way as she walked forwards. Her lips and fingernails were lacking oxygen and blueish purple. The skin that was showing seemed bruised in several places, "Yes Master Vincent?" she asked, as if annoyed that she had to
"See that the bath is warm for this fine gentleman in room 187. Also see that laundry is taken out from both that room and room 186." Vincent tossed her two gold keys and watched her as she left. The small band continued to play behind them. "I hope you enjoy your stay." he bowed.
"I guess that means I'm in #186?" Escrima asked Vincent with a nod. She grabbed a hold of her braid and squeezed the water out of it, letting it drip right onto the expensive looking carpet. "Do I have to sign anything?"
"If you would be so kind..." Vincent showed her a contract and asked her to sign in the same spots that he asked previously. "Miss Margaret should have your rooms ready any minute."
Escrima signed in the appropriate spots, taking a few minutes to look over the contract quickly. She never signed anything without reading it over first. It was just a little something that her father insisted on. He warned her that in Mourncrow, with all the various creatures around, you had to be absolutely sure of what you were agreeing to. Mainly because you never really knew what you were dealing with.
"Thank you kindly." Vaughn said with a kind and geniune smile. HIs grin showed no fangs to speak of other than a perfectly normal Man's. He signed the regestry and brought his attention to Master Vincent's once more "I bet I'm too late for dinner aren't I? If you'd have something sent to my room I'd be much oblidged."
Master Vincent took out his solid silver pocket watch and looked at the time. It was clear past midnight. "If you three are still hungry-" he began, including the vampire as well, "I shall have the chef prepare something immediately. On such a cold night such as this, I shall have him prepare something to warm your bones." He placed his watch back in his chest pocket and awaited their replies.
"That would be fine, just fine." Vaughn said with a wide smile. "And you will be joining us won't you?" Some time around the first initial order Master Vincent had given Vaughn had realized he didn't exactly work here, he was the owner. "I would greatly love to hear about your beautiful little town. Such lovely weather." He smiled again just as a crack of lightening and thunder ignited the sky. He was indeed pleased to be indoors on a night like tonight.
"I shall be attending a little bit later. I have other matters to attend to before we converse." Vincent smirked, bowed and glanced at the ceiling through his dark bangs, as if plotting. In that moment, just for a flash, he seemed very cynical. His smile diminished and he straightened back up, again his modest, formal self. "Ah Miss Margaret." he noted, seeing her walk down the stairwell.
Miss Margaret limped down the stairs. Upon further inspection, one could note that she perhaps was a more attractive woman years ago. However...being dead can take it's toll on beauty. "Ze rooms are ready, master." She hated calling him that, in truth...she hated the guy. "Iv you two vish to vollow me, I vill lead you too ze rooms."
"Indeed dear Madam." Vaughn said removing his hat. He bowed slightly to the Werewolf and said "After you Ma'am." Just then he heard the doors open behind them. He turned to see the new arrival only to see his trusty steed walk, head low threw the doors as if following a scent. Vaughn sighed "What did I tell you? Wait in the barn! I said I was gonna have them bring you oats!" He crossed the floor to push the horse back out into the cold and rainy weather "Now look you've gotten wet again and I ain't brushing ya. On the rug too... Get back to the barn or no carrots in the morning, now get!" He finally succeeded in pushing the horse back threw the doors only to close them in the poor animal's face. He swore he heard a distinctive whinny of aggravation from outside. He returned to the group of people. He shrugged as he explained. "That was Methos.... see... he doesn't know he's a horse..."
"A stupid horse means a likely dinner." Escrima informed him, as she licked her lips. She happened to prefer the taste of horse meat. It was somewhat of a delectable treat. Especially since there weren't many wild horses around, or at least around here. About the only ones you'd run across were owned by people, so to actually obtain horse meat you'd have to steal it first.
"ON the contrary dear lady." Vaughn began. "He opnce held a band of orcs at bay while I rescued The Prinscess of Dorkshire from their Orukaie leader. Besides, remember what the good scroll says, "Never trust a bald barber, he has no respect for your hair.'."
It took a while for the vampire at the bar to dismiss the others' conversation as babble--it was starting to get on his nerves, but once he tuned out their words, it was an almost pleasant accompaniement to the quintet. The man's accent reminded him his wife, and then to his plight. His stomach dropped and he felt sickened, hating his predicament, hating these annoying people, hating this accursed town. Hunger panged at his stomach and contracted his dead heart in his chest. He needed to eat---he needed to feed. "Bartender," He croaked, "I'll have another ale---and a meatbag, please."
"Would you like to join the new guests at dinner?" Vincent offered with a smirk, "On the house of course. I know that the chef is a master of...different delicacies." he emphasized at the end. With a hand resting on the top of his cane, he stood straight and proper.
"I'd rather pay for a quiet meal alone than eat for free with a bitch at the table, but thank you all the same," The vampire declined as delicately as his harrowed mind would allow. He gave Vincent a thin-lipped smile.
"Very well. That I bid everyone else goodnight. Perhaps I have more needs to attend to then I had previously mentioned." Vincent said. He bowed to the two new guests and walked away with his cane. He didn't use it to walk, it was more for show then anything else really. He went up the stairs slowly, as if walking down the aisle.
Escrima growled at the vampire's snide remark. It was a truthful statement, but only int he very meaning of the word bitch. She hated that word with a passion. She clenched her fists tightly and grit her teeth. With a scoff in his direction, she turned on her heel and made her way up to her room
"Lovely-" Margaret grunted, leading the two upstairs to their rooms. The hallways were long and tall. Their were an erie cream with red doors and carpeting.
Vaughn balkedslightly as the vampire used such terminoligy. However he said nothing. It wasnt his place to defent the honor of a fully matured werewolf. He picked up his hat and followed the maid.
"Zis is your room, madam." Margaret stopped at one of the doors and opened it up for her. Their was a blood red canopy above the expensive, yet somewhat rustic king sized bed. The room was large and very high class, yet it appeared to be dated in the late 1800s. Margaret handed the key to her and allowed her too pass. "Und ziss is your room, sir." She limped across the hall and opened his room. "Your hot bath iz ready asvell. If you two would merely place your dirty laundry in the shoot within each bathroom, zey vill be returned after zey are vashed." Standing in the center of the hall, between the two rooms and guests, she added, "Vill zere be anything else you zat two vould require to better suite your stay?"
Escrima scratched behind her ear softly. "What will be for dinner, Miss Margaret?" She asked curiously. Seeing that strange horse sure got her hungry. It had been a while since she had fresh meat and horse was such a lovely delicacy.
"I'm sure zat Master Vincent put in a special order for ze both of you. Ze cook here never disappoints. Margaret stood in a more relaxed pose now that her boss wasn't there. Sometimes she really wondered why the hell she worked for like little twit. She whipped her hands off on her apron, full of dried blood.
"Wonderful." Escrima said with a drawl. "Thank you, Miss Margaret." She told the corpse maid and turned, entering Room #186
"Thank you ma'am and yes." Vaughn said pulling a pair of very fine leather shoes from his small bag. "Would you have these shined and sent back up before dinner? I would much like to wear them."
Margaret raised a brow. She grabbed the boots, "Right avay sir..." Taking her apron with another hand, she buffed the shoes up, getting rid of the large pieces of dirt. It wasn't perfect, but she didn't care. "Done." Margaret handed him the boots.
Vaughn turned to Room #187 and returned to clean up.
Just as everyone was settling down to eat some scrumptious, free dinner, lightning struck the old hotel, setting the old wood on fire. The fire spread quickly, consuming the entire inn. As heroic as everyone acted under the circumstances, they all in some way or another owed their lives to the vampire. (ooc:bear with me here.)All of them escaped with only their lives to show for it.[EVERYBODY LOSES WHATEVER WAS NOT PHYSICALLY ON THEM.] The bridge back to Mourncrow splintered and snapped over the angry rushing river dividing the inn from the city.
The vampire looked back at the burning inn and swore in Greek. "The only affordable inn in this goddamned town worth stayin' at, and it burns down. That's just my luck these days."
Vaughn stood staring at the in as it burned. Suddenly he frantically began searching himself. He found his small bag draped over his shoulder under his coat. He breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank God... Say... the stables aren't in danger are they?"
Methos stepped up behind him and nudged him sharply in the back with his nose as if to say "Thanks for forgetting about me."
"Awe hell-" Miss Margaret grumbled, glancing at the black smoke rising into the dark night sky. She was out of a job, again. She turned around and rung out her skirt and hair.
Master Vincent stood straight and poise as he watched his family's precious hotel burn. His bird flew from the building and perched on his shoulder. The other servants either died or ran off mindlessly. He closed one eye and held up his free hand. To him, his hand blocked the house with his palm up. From his vision, he was releasing the fire into the air. A hand slipped into his coat pocket and pulled out his watch. Glancing at it, he put it away.
Vaughn approached Master Vincent and placed his hand on his shoulder "sorry old man..."
Escrima watched as the place burned down and swore silently. The inn was her biggest customer! Once a week, they bought just about her entire stock. There were times when she even had to go out and hunt just to fill their order...It was going to be hard to cover rent this month...
Vincent shook his head, he was so screwed. "I fear that I may be unable to fulfill your housing needs for the night as once planned." he told his customers.
Margaret was getting a bit annoyed already. She didn't like this moist weather one bit, it made her rot faster. "Cam'on you toads! Ve aren't doing any good watching za sing burn, are ve?"
"Well." Vaughn said placing his hands on his hips "Considering that the bridge is out and it's the crack of after midnight the reasonable thing would be to stay here until sunrise. I'm sure the journey to town is quite treacherous and we wouldn't want to get lost in this fog... well smoke."
Margaret didn't like the sound of that one bit, "Oh- so you suggest zat I stay vet and rot?" she gestured with her hands on her hips.
"You can dry by the fire." Vaughn said gesturing a hand to the inferno behind them.
"Hilarious." Margaret raised a brow. She took seven steps or so and stood huddled under a thick tree. It had a fair amount of leaves and branches and helped prevent rain a little bit more then nothing at all. She was so screwed in this weather.
Escrima groaned and joined Margaret beneath the tree. She wasn't really much for the rain. It had a tendency to wash away the scents of everything it touched, and to be perfectly honest, not being able to smell fear, or lies, or unsuspected company, it didn't sit too well with her at all.
"Sunrise!" The vampire scoffed. "Well, that's all very well and good for you, isn't it?" He turned to the path leading away from Mourncrow. "There are farming towns only a few miles from here we can reach and still have time to find shelter with the locals before morning." He paused, almost loathe to continue, but did so, reluctantly. "There's also a fortune to be made that way in adventuring--I was planning to go myself, once I'd had a solid drink and picked up a Walker bumpershoot."
Margaret was first to follow. Anything was better then here and now with these pathetic souls. Taking off her bloody apron, she held it above her head to block rain. It didn't work in the slightest. As she followed the vampire's lead, her slender feet got quickly stuck in the mud. She jerked up a little too fast on her left leg and the skin around her kneecap tore, exposing bone and flesh. Margaret didn't stop until she heard the tear. Cussing in Russian, she took her wet apron and wrapped it around her kneecap in hopes that it would keep her together.
Vincent stood tall now and turned to the group and then to the leaving vampire. "Works for me." he smirked a little, which was odd considering his family hotel was smoldering down to nothing. The crow on his shoulder took flight despite the downpour. The bird itself was almost more of a hawk then anything and didn't seem troubled by the rain much.
Escrima didn't like the thought of following a vampire anywhere, especially one who had already insulted her once. She looked out at the City of Mourncrow and she wondered when she would ever return to her beloved butcher shop. "I guess I'm in...Without the bridge there, I'd have to find some other way back to town anyway."
Vaughn watched \helplesely as his idea which he thought had been particulary sound was shot down. He looked at Methos. "Well I was looking forward to two weeks of rest at a nice hotel before we figured out where we where going next. Seems like that's not going to happen. Come on old boy." Vaughn started walking, following the others. methos followed sute. even though he'd been unsaddeled when put in the stabels he followed Vaughn with full tack. "If ladies would like a ride?" He guestured to Methos who gave him a sort of 'Screw you.' look.
"Me? Ride on that thing? No thanks..." Margaret declined. She had always had a weird fear about horses, even when she was living. As she finished speaking, her knee snapped and she fell down to the wet ground. Her foot was planet in the sludgy mud and was sticking straight up to the knee. Her thigh and body had completely come apart from her calf and foot. She grumbled and tried to click them back together. So much for being discrete...
Vaughn Lunged forward to help Margaret. He grabbed her leg and her hand to support her. "by the gods are you alright?"
"Peachy-" Margaret grumbled, annoyed at how unlady-like she was. Letting him hold onto her arm, she used her other one and snatched her detached leg from him. Margaret aligned it to her socket and jammed it in. Their was a loud snap and two gross pops. "I need salt, damnit..."
"Salt?" Escrima asked Margaret as she pulled her back from her side tot he front. "I try to keep a little bit on me in case I find some nice fresh meat and I need to preserve it til I get back to the shop...not like that's really going to happen now. So you're welcome to it I guess." She pulled a bundle out of her bag that was roughly the size of a clay brick. Underneath the shelter of a nearby tree she unwrapped it to reveal a block of salt.
Taking her wet hands, Margaret glided them along the surface of the block. She next rubbed her skin down in all of her areas that were starting to decompose from the humidity. "Thanks-"
Vincent was a little shocked at how unladylike Margaret had gotten since the fire. In front of him, she was kind and serving, as a good housekeeper should be.
Vaughn held onto Margaret's hand quietly. Being polite as to not interfere. Meanwhile Methos turned and retreaved the dust cloth Margarete had dropped in her stumbel. He held it in his mouth like an obedient puppy.
The vampire turned and waited, turning his face to the sky in an attempt to feel the rain on his skin. When that failed, he sighed and looked at his feet patiently. "Whenever you're ready," he said passively.
"Yeeuugh..." Margaret leaned back from the horse. She wouldn't dare put her hands near that things mouth.
Methos looked hurt and offered the cloth to Vaughn who took it and waited for Margaret to be ready.
Margaret grabbed the cloth and tied her knee tightly together. "Hopefully zat vill last." She shipped off a hunk of salt and rubbed her legs down as if it were soap.
"Come on," The vampire said tiredly, "The next hill will prove victorious, if my memory serves me right." He started trudging up the muddy slope. Over the hill was a small farming town.
"Don't hesitate to ask, if you need more salt." Escrima told her with a nod. It wasn't like salt was really that cheap of a thing for her to obtain, she usually had quite a trip to make in order to obtain just a block this size. But she wasn't above lending a helping hand to anyone.
Vaughn felt like an idiot standing at the bottom of the hill with a perfectly good mountain horse. His politeness only went so far. He offered a ride once more. "Ms. Escrima, would you like a ride?"
Escrima held up her hand and shook her head. "Just Escrima will do fine, Vaughn. And no." She looked at the horse with hungry eyes. "I do not like to toy with my food." She licked her lips as she looked the horse in the eyes, a grin spreading across her face.
Methos gave the werewolf that 'Screw you.' look again as Vaughn said "Don't say I never offered." as he mounted Methos for their long trudge up the hillside.
A growl emanated from Escrima's stomach. She hadn't gotten to eat a thing yet and she flushed slightly when she realized it was her stomach growling and not her. She was honestly only joking back at the hotel when she talked about eating horses, but right now Methos was beginning to look like a Thanksgiving turkey, and Vaughn was all the trimmings. She licked her lips and rubbed her eyes softly.
"If I may old boy-" Vincent began, talking to the leading vampire. "Where are we headed exactly. I must admit that I know not of these woods."
"We are headed," the vampire said wearily, "To a farming town so insignificant it bears no name. We will convince the families to allow us shelter until this miserable storm has passed, one way or another, and I am going to invest in a daywalker bumpershoot and make my way north, to the Calvan forests, to make my fortune hunting minotaurs." He turned his tired eyes to the heir. "There's a town just west of the Calvan forests called Locketown, much larger and more profitable, where one can turn a pretty penny if one is prudent enough."
"Locketown..." Vaughn said to Methos "What do you think old man?" He leaned down to the horse's ear "Think we can turn a penny there or would you rather go north and take on a minotaur or two?"
Methos shook his head as if shaking away a fly. His mane splashed water into his master's face. He didn't much like the idea of following a vampire any where.
"Alright alright..." Vaughn said wiping his face, his fedora had kept it dry until now. At least Methos was clean. "Locketown for now."
Escrima looked at the vampire curiously. Locketown was not somewhere that she intended to go. Let alone further north to chase minotaurs. She wanted a way back to Mourncrow, a way back home.
The vampire caught Escrima's curious look. He heaved a sigh as he trudged up the hill. "I'm not interested in the meat of the minotaurs, as...rare, and nigh-invaluable as it may be in today's market. No, I'm only interested in the slag. I want their hooves and horns, as useless as they are to anyone who isn't a magician of some sort." He grunted, sliding back in the mud slightly as he moved. "It will be a few days before the bridge is rebuilt, and that river is always hostile anyway."
"I wasn't even thinking of the meat. There really aren't that many people who would be interested in minotaur meat, but then again there aren't that many people who know it's really an option." Escrima told him, scratching her chin softly in thought. "As much as I would hate to even suggest it." She looked at him, with a somewhat greedy look on her face. "Would you mind if I tagged along? You can keep your horns and hooves, I'll take the rest of it."
Vaughn Directed Methos to walk next to the Vampire. "Tell me sir... are the magical properties of minotaur karotin high in magical value? On a scale of one to ten?'
The vampire shrugged. "Saves me the trouble of disposing of the meat myself," He muttered. Turning to Vaughn, he started, coughed and wheezed a moment, then started again, "I don't know about just how 'magical' they are, but I do know they're worth a killing on the market, and magi will pay just about any price you give them for quality stuff." He took a breath, his vision clouded by the heat and blood pumping through Methos's veins. He shook it off roughly and continued. He could see the top of the hill now.
Escrima couldn't help by grin as she saw the vampire's reaction to Methos. "It would appear, I'm not the only one who hasn't eaten in a while."
"Oh, shut up," The vampire said unenthusiastically. He stopped, now standing at the top of the hill. His chest heaved painfully from the effort of working a malnourished body. He lifted an arm, pointing his finger at the smoke rising from the quaint farmhouses below. "And there they are," He announced. He let his arm drop to his side uselessly and took the opportunity to catch his breath.
She could see just how bad of a shape this vampire was in. Escrima had seen many of their kind before, but never had she seen one in such a shape. It was curious to see a vampire in such a state.
AS they crested the hill Methos stopped of his own accord to allow the others to catch their breath and rest. Meanwhile Vaughn weighed the possibility of traveling north. If they moved quickly they could beat the vampire and cash in with considerable less effort than if they trailed the vampire. But his consious weighed heavily. It would be in bad taste to venture north after the vampire confided in them.
"Ah, wonderful." Master Vincent smirked as he eyes up the farmhouse. He wasn't all too interested in the minotaur work himself, but he listened in, curious to learn something. Without consent from anyone, he worked his way down the hill, to the door of the farmhouse.
Margaret limped after the group, she had fallen substantially behind due to the humid weather and her 'condition'. "How the hell do you plan on taking down a minotaur?" she asked the vampire, not scared to question him at all.
"By stabbing it, with various sharp objects, several times." The vampire replied, shedding a smirk. He followed Vincent down to the door of the farmhouse, reached out his fist, and rapped sharply on the door.
A moment later, an old, grizzled farmer opened the door partway, his fading blue eyes staring warily at them through the allowed slit. "Who are you? What do you want?"
Vaughn saw the farm house open. Master Vincent might need some back up so Methos trotted on to catch up to him. "The Hotel up the road caught fire. We have women traveling with us. We where hoping you could provide a dry place to rest till morning."
"Oh," The farmer grunted, unconvinced. "You won't fool me--I know that inn and its customers. Lotta beasts what want ta feast 'pon me n' mine!" He snarled. "T'ain't nothin human nor elven nor sanctified by the gods among the lot o'ye, I'm bettin'. Go away!" He slammed the door.
Vaughn and Methos both sighed in unison and Vaughn dismounted. He gave three sharp knocks on the farmer's door. "At least point us in the direction of town good sir?" He called threw the door.
The farmer peeked open the door hatefully. "What, an' let ye prey on tha poor saps there? I think not! Begone, ye ingrates!"
Before the farmer could close the door, the tired old vampire stuck his foot in and held the door open. Leaning in close, he said in a low, enthralling growl, "You will cease your impudent whining, get over your damned misconceptions about the members of our party, and find it in your heart to put us up for the night."
The farmer stared at him with a mixture of fear and awe. "W-well, yes, of course. There's plenty'a room in the barn for the men, an' I've a few beds ta spare for the ladies, hallo ladies," He nodded respectfully to Escrima and Margaret. "I'll have my daughters whip up some vittles ifn' yer hungry." He opened the door and stood to the side to let them in, an odd sort of shine to his old eyes.
"Much obliged," The vampire hissed. "You'll be well-recompensed for your troubles."
Vaughn gave the vampire an odd look, then took up Methos' reigns and lead him to the barn.
Escrima looked at the vampire with curiosity in her eyes. She had heard about the whole threshold rule thing about vampires before. Was it only a myth that helped people sleep at night, or did this guy just cheat around it somehow? She wondered, she'd have to ask him later. She looked tot he farmer and smiled her best smile, which just resulted in giving her face a creepy grin of sorts.
"I didn't get a word of that." Margaret noted, limping over sloppily. The man's speaking was a bit too slurred for her. She had just stared at the man's appearance and let the vampire do that talking.
"Thank you very much, kind sir. I shall see to it that your kindness will not go unrewarded."
Vaughn led Methos into the barn and began to unsaddle him. "Well the Vampire has finally shown his power." He told Methos who tossed his head in agreement once his bridle was finally free. Vaughn hung it on a spoke next to his door. He found the feed bag and filled it with a healthy amount of sweet grain. He hung it on the inside of the stall door. Methos dove in with appreciation. Vaughn hung his cache on a nail inside the stall. He opened it and began rummaging. His arm was finally shoulder deep before he found what he was looking for. Pulling the charm out he looked at it. "Wrong one." He muttered and dropped it back inside. He dove into the bag with his arm again and continued rummaging. The bag stretched to allow his head and then his other shoulder. He came out of the bag a moment later with the tie pin he had made some fifty years ago. Crafted of blessed silver and bloodstone from the Walachia mountains. He'd had to pray over this one for three full moons before it was strong enough to withstand the hypnotic gaze of a vampire. The Lady Bathery had indeed been an interesting one. He was dressed in a fine frock coat and red silk ascot. The pin would have done fine in the red cascade of his tie but the rain had dampened him to the bone and the Zombie was wearing his hat. He was drenched. Out of the bag he pulled a pair of leather trows and a light weight linen shirt. He began changing and even though Methos' head was in the feed bag he gave a shake of his head, both knocking more feed into the bottom of his bag and telling Vaughn to change outside. "Alright ya prude. You've seen me do far worst in a stable." Vaughn grabbed his clothes and went to the hall. There he quickly changed and hung his wet coat to dry by Methos' door. "I seem to remember that red head in London." Methos gave a shiver of his entire body shaking the water off his entire body in a small jerk. Vaughn chuckled and retrieved his bag from inside the stall. From it he pulled a long leather trench coat. He figured it would keep him dry. "Ok well I'm going into the house. See if I can't find something to eat that isn't dried or cured or canned." he hung his bag over his shoulder and took up his hat. He put the stick pin in his hat band on the side and pulled his rapier and stoletto out of the bag. He slung them over his hips and buckled the belt. They laid in that suave Italian manner and hung on his hips like sex. He put on the coat and said "I'll see if I can't find some apples." He tipped his hat goodbye to Methos who gave a nudge of his head as he continued to munch. Vaughn left the barn where he didn't wait to knock on the door. He shook the water off him there and observed his surroundings.
The vampire did not step inside. He saw the farmer and, in the dim light behind him, his daughter, and could not bring himself to it. "I will be in the barn," he announced, and sludged over to the old wooden building, entirely soaked. But the only thing he could feel was the weight of the old demon-marks on his back and legs from the old days, days he chose not to remember, and the incredible, deepening ache of deprivation that hollowed his stomach. He closed the door behind him and saw Methos feeding at his trough.
"Evening," He said, after a long moment of silence interrupted only by the pattering of rain on the barn roof. He passed him and found a cow, perfect for his needs. He fell on it with a high, keening hiss, clamping the cow's muzzle shut to dampen its cries as he consumed its blood. The cow dropped to its knees, then onto its belly, and the vampire followed it, guiding it down gently to its resting place amongst the hay.
Escrima noticed that the vampire had paused at the threshold. Maybe he hadn't found a way around that little rule she heard of. She shrugged and walked inside
Methos Watched the confrontation of vampire and cow he slowly leaned his head out the door and grabbed the draw knob on his stall door. He pulled the door back slowly silently claiming this part of the barn. He really hoped a vampire couldn't hypnotize a horse of advanced intelligence.
The vampire drained the cow dry, letting not a single drop be wasted or lost in the hay. He straightened, wiping his face and licking the blood from his fingers, then taking a soaked handkerchief and cleaning off the rest. He glared at Methos. "The hell are you looking at?" He said, annoyed at the wary look in the horse's eyes. "If I wanted to eat you, I would have already." He swore in Greek under his breath, thumbing out coins sufficient enough to buy another cow and laying them across the corpse's hide. He left the barn with renewed energy--perhaps not one hundred percent, but certainly operating on much more than he had before.
Vincent wasn't one to sleep in a barn at all. He walked into the house when allowed. "Cozy place that you have here." he said, ignoring how peasant-like the building actually was.
Margaret rolled her eyes at Vincent's smug comment. She hated that little prick to no end. "...yea, if your used to a poor house." she added with a snicker.
Escrima found the little house to be quite cozy really. She looked over at Margaret when she made that snickering comment. It was not the best thing to say when these people just opened their house up to total strangers. Total strangers who fit their own suspicions.
No matter what the thing said Methos wasn't taking his eye off the vampire.
Vaughn Took his coat off at the door. He had every intention of sleeping in the barn tonight but if by some magical chance a hot and warm meal were to appear he wanted to be present for just such an occasion.
"So vere's ze bed in zis joint?" Margaret asked the owner. Before she let him answer, she looked at the buff woman, "Can I have a bit more of that salt?"
Escrima nodded and retrieved the carefully wrapped block from her tote bag. If the zombie woman kept this up, she'd be out of salt in only a couple of days...usually a block this size would last her about a month.
Margaret grabbed a chunk and stuck some crumbles under each armpit, her ears, neck and mouth. Taking the remainder, she slid a hand under her maid's skirt and put the salt...in there too.
Vaughn turned around just in time to see Margaret do whatever it was she had just done. He spun back around on a dime. "Um... is dinner on?"
Escrima coughed a little bit as she saw Margaret stuff a chunk of salt up her skirt. The thought that she had every intent on preserving down there made her utterly sick. You don't preserve something you don't intend to use...But at least she had broken a chunk off rather than stuffing the entire block in there...
"Er, yes, of course," The farmer grumbled, waving his hands at his daughters, who turned on their heels and dissappeared into the kitchen. A few minutes later, the table was set with gruel and pie--an odd combination, but what was handy at the time, and beggars can't be choosers.
The vampire leaned against the doorway, looking much more healthy and rigorous. He simply stood there with arms folded and watched the rest of the group quietly.
Vaughn Held out chairs for Escrimina and Margaret but did not wait for them to join him at the table. He was famished and at the moment chivalry was third on his list of priorities. Second was locating apples or carrots for Methos. He helped himself to a portion of the gruel and pie. He slipped a few gold coins onto the table under the pie and ate happily.
Escrima sat down and looked at the meal set before them. What these people really needed was some meat. It was what she needed too, if all she ate was gruel and pie, there was bound to be trouble...The animal inside of her required the nourishment that could only come from meat, fruit and the mystery of gruel was certainly not going to keep it contained for very long. She looked over her shoulder and noticed that the vampire looked much healthier than before. She would have to be sure to ask him if there was anything left after she politely forced this meal down...
Margaret didn't require food for energy, nor could she taste it. She merely swallowed the stuff to at least make her feel alive and look it in front of the farmer and his spawn.
Vincent took a napkin and placed it neatly under his collar. HE tok a slice of pie and topped it with gruel. "I humbly thank you again for letting us stay while this storm passes. I shall see to it that your kindness is not overlooked."
The farmer grunted. "I'm going back to bed," He said gruffly. "If you need anything, ask one of my daughters, they'll do what ye want." He threw up his hands and left, shutting the rickety door behind him. The two daughters looked at the group warily, the younger with dirty blonde hair staring shyly at Vaughn, the elder with straight brown hair glaring apprehensively at Margaret.
Escrima finished off her meal and wiped her mouth softly with a napkin. She looked to the two daughters. "So where will we be sleeping?" she asked curiously
"The two rooms down the hall," The elder daughter said flatly. "I will break out new cots for you." She stood there stoically, unwilling to leave her sister in the same room as these strangers.
Margaret stood from the table and stretched, tearing some accidental flesh. "Vell zis iz akward..."
Escrima stood and pushed her chair in. "Well, while the two of you break out cots for Margaret and myself, we'll go and get our things from barn. Sound fair enough?" She could smell the elder daughter's unease and it was enticing her beyond belief. This was the sort of person she would eat, in a heartbeat if she ever lost control...
Vaughn had been concentrating on his food when a familar feeling came over him. He looked up, trying to decide what it was making the hair on the back of his neck prick. He smiled and turned in his chair, looking directly at the youngest daughter with his suavest most handsome expression.
"Ugh... All ze love in ze air iz making me sick." Margaret admitted, looking around at Vaughn and the sibling.
The eldest stared at Margaret with a scarred look. She tore her eyes away to look at Escrima, then grabbed her younger sister who was still making fawn eyes at Vaughn and left the room without a word.
Escrima looked at the others. "Come on, we don't want to make them anymore uncomfortable than they already are." She walked over tot he vampire. "Is there anything left of what you ate? I need sustenance."
"I can't help it." Vaughn said smiling. He turned around in his chair as if he thought he wasn't The God's gift to women.
The vampire snapped out of a daze. "Hm? Oh, yes," He replied. "But I feel I must warn you it's devoid of moisture. It's out in the barn next to his horse," He gestured at Vaughn and stood up so that the doorway wasn't blocked.
"I don't require the blood, just the meat." Escrima told him quietly, as to not alert the others to her requirements. She was not exactly fond of what she was, after all.
The vampire smirked. "I know. But some like it messy," He teased, overwhelmingly aware of her lycanthropy.
Escrima growled with agitation and barred her teeth to him. This was no laughing matter to her. If she didn't properly feed, someone was going to end up as her next meal, and she did not want that on her conscience.
The vampire smiled widely, setting his own teeth on display. He knew exactly what it was to her, because he could see the same struggle for restraint in her eyes that plagued him all too often. Another survivor of the curse. But that didn't mean he had to be compassionate about it. He stepped out of the doorway.
Escrima looked at him again. She could tell that he was of like mind, with his own curse. She stormed passed him and headed for the barn. She flung open the barn door and she could start to feel the wolf taking over. She fought it back and moved to the stall beside Vaughn's horse. She let out a territorial growl as she closed the stall door behind her. It was over in only a few seconds. She changed into the wolf and what was left of the cow was goe in only a few bites, with all the blood drained from it, it was a much cleaner meal than she was used to.
Vaughn simply sat there as the vampire and the werewolf sized eachother up and dispersed. He glanced at the vampire once Escrimina left and thinking it might be funny smiled and said "Women eh?"
The vampire smirked. "If you can call that a woman," He replied, in the same jesting tone that Vaughn used.
Vaughn REadjusted himself in his seat to give the vampire his attention. "Look, far be it for me to be rude but I just realized that we have not been properly introduced." He held out his hand. "Wolfgang Vaughn Wolframstiene, those who know me call me Vaughn."
Margaret managed to swipe a bottle of salt from the dining table and stuff it into her apron. She wasn't phased by the argument at all and leaned on the table with her elbow. Her eyes stared into the tablecloth with a sigh.
"Well If one of you ladies would be so kind as to show me where I shall stay the night tonight, I would very much appreciate it." Vincent held out his hand to allow one of the sister's to place her hand in his for a kiss.
The vampire noted his hand and accepted it, scraping off his feet at the door and taking Vaughn's hand in a firm handshake. "Felix Black. Good to meet you, Vaughn," he gave him a courteous smile.
"Just this way," The elder said, blushing slightly. She lead him to a meager room, where her sister laid out the extra cots.
"It's a pleasure." Vaughn said shaking Felix's hand.
"Thank you very much, my lovely petal." Vincent said with a handsome smile. He was such a good people pleasure it was almost sickening to most men. "Dare I ask for your name?"
Escrima growled softly as she laid there, knawing on what was left of the cow's femur. It was the only thing left of the beast that the vampire had drained, she had already eaten everything else.
"Daria," The elder said nervously, giving him a slight smile.
"Please, if there is anything that I can do to repay your kindness, don't hesitate to ask, lovely Daria." Vincent bowed with a smug grin.
Margaret watched the vampire and the Indiana Jones rip off shake hands and leaned back in her chair silently.
Vaughn looked at Margarete and as if he could read her mind replied an ancient greeting from his homeland. "Fuck you."
Felix raised an eyebrow and smirked. "Once a gentleman...never again a gentleman, I see." (ooc: it is spelled ancient, not ainchent.)
Changing back into her human form, Escrima's wiped her mouth slowly. Her eyes faded from the milky white of the wolf's back to her natural color. She looked around, wanting to make sure that nobody saw her change. The only witness was Vaughn's horse, Methos, but she doubted he would say anything. Especially after what he just witnessed. She gathered her clothes and started to redress, hoping that the guys weren't on their way in to head to bed.
Margaret got up from the table and didn't both to push her chair in. Being around all these people were getting to her a little. She stepped outside and sat on the steps and leaned against a railing.
"Excuse me?" Vaughn asked Felix as if he didn't understand what he was meaning
"Sure, you put on a good show, but when push comes to shove you can't wait to sink down to their level, can you?" Felix accused easily.
Margaret brought out her lighter from her apron and watched the moonlight glisten on it's silver. She wasn't all that phased my Vaughn's words much. But then again, nothing phased her since she died. It has been a long time since she had sat outside in the moonlight like this. Not meaning to, she started to reminisce about her old life...when she was alive. Trying to shun the memories, she flipped on the lighter and held her fingertip in the flame, not able to feel it's burn.
Escrima closed the stable door and patted Methos' head softly, glaring him directly in the eyes. "You're safe for one more day." She smirked and rubbed behind his ear. "I meant what I said about horse meat." She turned and walked out of the barn. She walked over to Margaret and watched her curiously. "You alright?"
Margaret closed the lighter with a click and locked her eyes on Escrima for a moment. "Peachy." she grumbled, putting her lighter in her closed fist.
Escrima shrugged. "I guess it's time to turn in for the night." She stretched her arms, happy to finally have her hunger satisfied
Margaret kept her eyes on the trees of the forest, "Enjoy it." she commanded without a hint of niceness whatsoever. She hadn't slept nor dream since she died.
"Oh you mean the greeting?"Vaughn asked "I traveled through a kingdom once and [learned] of a beautiful ancient tongue. Fuck You means "Good health" in the language of their magi culture. I have heard on occasion that it means something far different in other cultures. I like to try it in each town and city I cross. Just so I know where not to say it. Aparently it's a vulgar term here as well."
Felix raised an eyebrow. "Right. How long have you been on the Ballade islands?"
Escrima looked once more to Margaret before entering the Farmer's house. She trully felt sorry for the woman. She looked at the men and growled softly. "Bedtime, boys. Out with yah."
"Aye, we'll let the dogs sleep inside," Felix teased her, half-grinning. "Goodnight, ladies," He said, ducking out of the house and making his way to the barn.
Margaret was still sitting on the porch of the house when Felix left. It wasn't as damp anymore, so it was alright to sit outside tonight. She wouldn't require a bed.
"My ship made birth last night." Vaughn replied. "Methos and I have been enroute since then. We had intended to stay at the hotel for a week or so before decideing our next adventure."
Escrima growled in response to the vampire's teasing. She hated being called that and she was incrediblly angry that that filth would call her such. At least her curse hadn't rid her entirely of her humanity
Felix nodded. "Then it's probably best you didn't stay long enough to get to know the city," He said, reaching the barn. "She's mighty fine to strangers, but she's a nasty old cod to the locals."
City of Mourncrow
Mourncrow RP
Stumble!