The Lightbringer

 

Gleeon Onyx

 

⚜ Former Billionaire ⚜ Warlock ⚜ Half human, half Draconic ⚜ Immortal ⚜

 

Occupation:

 

Gleeon has and still operates a safe haven for supernatural, beast-like, and other non-human-type beings, any entity that seeks refuge from mankind without the fear of being poached or persecuted. This can include everything from mages, to anomalous people, vampires, sentient creatures not of this world, and even dragons. All are welcomed if they are not a liability or a risk to his group. Not a place for murderous beings to hide.

This haven can be found his estate: A large property that sits on a lakefront, surrounded by woodland mountains and forests. Since a few members of his group consist of giant reptiles, it provides wide-open spaces with the terrain obscuring it from the sight of his neighbors. 



Disposition:

 

Selfless is one way to describe him, more than willing to aid others in need. Regardless of what species, ethnicity, religion, or what world somebody is from, they’re always welcomed with open arms, no individual is antagonized for their background.

Gleeon is both kind-hearted & a warrior all in one, low-energy, and often seen as the voice of reason by those in his group. He's proactive in tending to those in need, also a good listener when somebody needs to get something off their chest. Can be a good mentor figure for younger individuals in his family of monsters.

When it comes to entertainment and hobbies, he's into a lot of Sci-Fi shows, reading, swimming (thanks to a certain Siren), and model-building.

Beware: He's a bad cook. So much that he burnt tea. Others in his group have banned him from making anything in their kitchen.

Appearance:

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Skin Tone: Pale

 

Hair Color: Jet Black

 

Eye Color: Gold irises with black scleras

Feral Form

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Skills/Attributes:

 

Long ago during his youth, he caught a fatal illness. Unable to bear the thought of losing a child, his adopted mother of a Dragoness injected him with her own blood. This process rewrote his DNA, which in turn gave him extremely high resistance to many diseases and viruses, with inhuman strength, and increased senses.

Due to the wish of a siren he courted, the man was bestowed with immortality. This does not mean invulnerability, only that dying of old age is no longer a risk.

Gleeon is well-versed in the use of Aeromancy: Wind magic. This enables him to manipulate the very air molecules, either by creating jetstreams of air, conjuring up tornados, use it for levitation/flight, or redirecting the wind. This can include the ability to make spheres of compressed atmosphere before launching them as explosive projectiles once the pressure is released. Since Gleeon can tap directly into oxygen molecules, he can cause a vacuum to instantly put out fires, or as a counter against pyromancy.

Sorcery aside, the Warlock also favors the use of modern firearms, useful for the sake of avoiding unwanted attention since magic can be quite destructive. His preferred ranged weapon is a Judge or Governor pistol, despite having a collection of rifles and many other items, many of which are unsurprisingly illegal. 

 

 

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Three decades ago...

 

Amazons, a large warrior tribe comprised of all women from ancient folklore that still exist to this day who live a life of isolation in the modern world, being nothing more than a shadow of the conquers they once were.

To sustain a consistent population, women of the tribe venture out of their territory to find and seduce men, where they intentionally impregnate themselves to later give birth to baby girls. However, doing so comes with an occasional problem: Sometimes they will receive a boy instead. Any male offspring are usually disposed of by dumping them off in the wild, typically in forests in hopes they’ll be mauled to death by predators or die from exposure. 

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However, there is one known case where one of these discarded children survived. Roughly thirty years ago, one Amazonian diverted from one of the usual dumping grounds and left the child by some ruins instead for unknown reasons. 

 

 

 

Little did this cruel mother know that there was a Dragoness inhabiting the temple, an eastern one. Upon discovering the abandoned kid, she took him in and raised the boy. Gleeon, as she named him, would grow up under her guidance, learning how to wield air-based magic, and many other talents that would aid him in life. The two formed an inseparable bond.

Not long after he became of age, the young man was sent out by her for him to experience life and mingle with other humans. The first few years were rough, having to scavenge for food, find temporary shelter, avoid arrest while snatching leftover meals, and seek a job simultaneously. Eventually, his efforts paid off.

As for the specifics of what exactly happened and led his current situation in life, that is for you to find out, should you embark on that adventure.

 

  

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~Side Characters~

 

Abraham Sullivan:

 

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Perhaps the last and only surviving World War One veteran still alive to this day, in addition to being David Sullivan's twin brother. Well over a century ago, Abe was drafted and enlisted, having become the driver of a Mark Five tank his crew nicknamed: Steelheart. 

 

 

The final operation they would participate in was the siege of a weapons lab, under the control of another nation called the Dominion. He and his crew managed to break through enemy lines and enter the facility, only to discover a device capable of freezing time in its immediate vicinity called a Stasis Bomb. Rightfully fearful of what would happen to their fellow troops, Abraham and the others loaded it onto their vehicle before driving away in an effort to move it off-site. Unexpectedly- it went off, putting him and the surviving crew into suspended animation in time for the next hundred years.

 

Upon being released into the modern age from the stasis bomb deactivating, he was discovered by Gleeon's group and taken under his wing. With help from the family man himself and Cassella, Abe was brought up to speed for the most crucial things with the current era and history. Slowly but surely, they assisted him with integrating back into modern society, which felt like a whole new world to him.

Abraham is indifferent and welcoming to most newcomers, well-disciplined, along with not wanting to start emotional conflicts or participate in one. While not the most talkative person out there, he still attempts to socialize with others.

Personality aside, he has a few passions due to having some artistic skills: Sketching, aviation enthusiast, model trains, automobiles, naval architecture/history, and rail-fanning. (Due to him being a railroad engineer before the Great War.)

Being a man with no special powers, Abe is heavily experienced with firearms and operating large vehicles from driving a tank during his military career. Thanks to a number of other smaller conflicts on Gleeon's end, he became even more battle-hardened.

 

Valery Koslov:

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Out in the wilderness of the city Pripyat in Ukraine, a young mage was growing up under the care of a witch, who had been orphaned at the time. The infamous Chernobyl nuclear disaster occurred, which unsurprisingly contaminated its surroundings.

Much of the radioactive smoke and particles came down on him. Valery had sustained a fatal dose and radiation burns, which left him bed-ridden in what was thought to be his last few days alive. Unexpectedly... A deity of some sort had entered his home. This mysterious being cast a number of powerful spells upon him before immediately leaving.

In a short time span, Koslov mustered enough strength to rise out of bed, no longer falling victim to cellular death across his body. The spells used gave him immediately to radiation, and the ability to absorb it at well. While this was a blessing, it did not undo the cosmetic damage: His face and skin were ruined far beyond recognition, making him resemble a charred zombie.

 

To hide his horrific appearance, he wears a cloak and covers his face/skin in white bandages. Valery wields a sharpened shovel as a melee weapon, which he dipped in damaged uranium fuel rods to make it volatile. This vile item can cause severe radiation burns to anyone struck by his shovel, or foolish enough to grab it. Any living being can expect to get cancer later on and experience radiation sickness in the short term. In addition, he uses pyromancy-based magic, often lacing it with radiation for more devastating effects.

While his methods for defending himself are highly questionable, Val is a cinnamon roll for the most part, one with a lot of energy. He tends to be an extrovert around anyone that won't judge or find his appearance suspicious. Currently, he travels the world in search of anything that could help him achieve his ultimate end goal: Reconstructing his face.

In the present, he's recently joined the Sullivan family and has developed a close friendship with Cassella.

Some notes on the admin:

#1 Because this is usually an ongoing problem with a lot of peeps, if you lose interest, get bored, or experience writer's block in our thread, don't hesitate to let me know, no hard feelings.

#2 If I take a really long time to respond (maybe two weeks or so) you can shoot me a reminder. I tend to be forgetful about things since I sometimes have stuff going on at my end.

#3 When it comes to writing, I prefer long-term story arcs over one-time threads that end in a short timespan. I'd rather not go through all the effort of plotting something elaborate, only for it to be cut short for whatever reason.

#4 If you're the kind of writer that's rapidly changing your OC or constantly swapping characters, I won't be interested since the thread would likely end in just a few replies. I tend to see a lot of people make pages just for show and not use them after their creation. (Can we all agree it gets kinda annoying?)

#5 No killing off my character, it's a common courtesy to respect other people's creations and not force them to undo their work.

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Character Age

32


Character Gender

Male


Character Relationship Status

Single


Writer's Writing Style (OOC)

Paragraph, Multi-Para, Novella


Writer's Favored Genres (OOC)

Fantasy, Romance, Anime, 18+, Action


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  • Gleeon is delivered a look void of emotion while she waits for the man to recover from his initial shock. Several doubts about this safe house having efficient security cross her mind. It had been laughably easy to find her way here, and even easier to sneak onto the property despite not even trying to be stealthy. Consumed with this line of thought, Scarlett looks over her shoulder back to the door she had stepped through. She envisions security cameras and laser sensors fitted to the door frame. It wouldn't take her long to set up so long as she had access to the right equipment.

    The ruckus caused between this man and the smaller figure captures her attention again. She offers them both a raised brow and an unamused stare. Whatever is hidden beneath the tiny one's bandages is hardly any of Scarlett's concerns.

    "I am willing to overlook the slight made against diet coke in exchange for you allowing me to stay here," she states matter-of-factly. Her demeanor is stiff, almost robotic in the way she stares down the two at the entranceway. However, the hand squeezing anxiously at the strap of her backpack is betraying a sense of unease boiling beneath the surface.

    Before there is even time for someone to formulate a response to her demands, Scarlett tilts her head in the direction of the door again. "Your security sucks, by the way. Isn't this some sort of safe house?"

    The criticism is light thanks to the control she exercises in her tone. Scarlett is no stranger to walking on eggshells and her habit of placating others will not be broken so easily. Begging, however, just might be out of range of her capabilities. Yet, the way she narrows her brows and glances off to the side with what could best be described as a pout is a near thing in itself. Then, silence.

  • Twigs snap under heavy combat boots marching through the woodland. She is unconcerned about the noise she makes as she walks; this place is far from the sect. There is no monetary gain to be had from placing watchful eyes out in the middle of nowhere. If there is one thing she can count on, it's the sect's greed to dictate their every move. So long as the waves she makes in the world are minimal and she stays out of their line of sight, everything will be fine. It's fine.

    The thickness of the forestry thins out enough for her to make out a lake bordering her right. It looks cold and uninviting. She grits her teeth at the sight of it, squeezes the straps of her backpack, and adjusts it better on her shoulders. Up ahead is a home that matches the description in her head. Ignoring the coiling heat of anxiety stirring in her stomach, she steps out from the forest and lands a foot on the property. Truth be told, the home is bland; it's a far cry from the impressive heights of skyscrapers and designer furniture.

    A bug buzzes around her head. Irritated, she snaps a finger and it combusts in a small flame before dropping dead.

    She hears voices as she nears the entranceway and categorizes one of them as male; irked but non-threatening. When the arguing pair come into view, she notes their lack of spacial awareness from failing to detect her approach. For a moment or two, she stands there watching them. It becomes apparent that neither will notice her unless she makes herself known. Placing one hand on the door, she shoves it open a little wider and steps through nonchalantly. "Diet coke is better," she states, deadpan.

  • [About that long-awaited plot...

    I completely forgot where we left off, but I'd like to rekindle building something if you'd like. Scarlett here is morally grey, involved in several shady businesses, and deeply troubled. This is the tip of the iceberg. She's also relatively flexible enough to fit into other plotlines, so... if you need something of an assistant to move your character's story along, she could help. We could play it by ear, also. Come up with a starting point and see where that takes us, or take the time to think of something solid. Let me know.

    ... again, I am sorry about my inconsistency. If you ever wish to give me a nudge, feel free to do so on Discord. I promise I'm still about. and interested, just easily distracted.]

  • it would be  my pleasure ))

  • He listened attentively as well as he could when the other man spoke, but the infernal face of the unrelenting sun constantly bearing down over the vampire’s neck was starting to have an ill effect on him, invoking feelings of immense seething irritation, anger and frustration. The darkness was beginning to stir within his chest, having been starved and prodded for far too long. Consequently, Robin was starting to drool like a mad dog over the ripe and possible prospect of sinking claws or fangs into his next victim. In his head, vile scenarios of ending a life played happily, like flipping through image cards, with each one progressively becoming grimmer and more imaginative than the last. Yet, despite that, the bloodsucker got the bulk of the story to sink into his head. But he highly doubted its validity once it did, weighing it against reason. Because how could it be anything but a right load of old codswallop? Because the whole thing seemed as if ripped from one of the pages of a Jules Verne novel. Like a silly sort of fantasy, like Tír na nÓg. Then again, he thought, challenging his rational mindset about what he thought he knew in his human life. Because of course, back then, the idea of the walking undead had once had him laughing wildly with disbelief. And, well, considering what he himself was…. So who’s to say that Abraham’s queer story does not yet have a speck of truth to it, if not all? Looking at the photograph given, Robin finally says with a voice that betrays his discomfort, “This - this is…a lot of information to take in.” He didn’t say anything more, and the photo was returned in awkward silence. Robin was hardly convinced, not just yet. Meanwhile, Ralph, the short American-Italian man, tugged on Robin’s sleeves. He pulled him off to the side rather sharply and with surprising strength for a guy of his stature.

    The short cab driver excused himself, head flipping like he was in a L'Oréal commercial, back to Abraham and Gleeon, showing them a fake smile across his puffy cheeks. “Excuse us, gentleman,” He said. An entire arm was then wrapped around the vampire’s side. His voice was toned down so as the others could not hear. “Look, Robin,” he begins, licking his chops to prep his lips for sum ‘smooth’ talking. “I know you're hangry. You got a perpetual bitch face going. But unless you want to piss these people off, I suggest you reel it in a little.” 

    To this, the vampire responded coldly, with a hint of a warning hiding beneath the tone of his voice. Swiftly came his reply, “If you have something to say, I suggest you do so quickly. My patience is thin as paper.”

    The warning was taken, but Ralph was hardly perturbed. He continued in the same manner as before. “Yes, well. My idea,” he clears his throat, “and no need to quote my brilliance here, but look, here ya have an opportunity, Rob. You clearly need some help; you aren’t going to be yourself until night, right? And the clock is ticking, ain’t it? So why don’t ya go over there and simply ask for some help?” The idea seemed almost to be some sort of a lark to Robin. An amused smirk spread across the vampire’s cheek, imagining all manner of torture to befall these newfound ‘friends’ on the journey ahead. It amused him, and he hated that it did. He stopped his smile from infecting the rest of his face, wiping away all traces of emotion, negative or positive. But before that, he could not help but express his scepticism in passing. He opened his lips, speaking with an uncharacteristic voice of contempt, asking with a hiss, “I’d drag them into this? A mortal?” Ralph shook his head. “See, now you are talking mosquito lingo, even. Stop that. Just go over there and ask for help. I’m betting they’re willing to listen if you offer them the right carrot. Just don’t offer any of ‘em money. I had my hands all over that car. Those babies ain’t lackin’ for cash. And I’d say you should only offer that geek. If push comes to shove, you can yeet his punk ass out. Don’t bring the sorcerer, though, yeah? I can smell a goodie-two-shoe magic user from miles away. And for fuck sake, hurry. I don’t wanna add Dracula to the paper list of people who want me dead, or else I’ll feel bad for being the root cause of deforestation. Ya getting me, pal? So swallow that vampiric bloodlust and go be a smooth diplomatic asshole.” 

    Ralph was right, and he loathed that he was - the little imp was getting on his nerves. But he was right. With an intentional sigh, the bloodsucker shook free of the little man and joined the two, Abraham and Gleeon, in front of the tank. “I’m sorry. I had a momentary lapse of character. I am unused to being in the daylight in… in such a condition as this.  But I wonder, may I have a moment alone? Just between Abraham and me?” That last question was directed towards Gleeon.

  • Yessss?

  • [Yes - we should write! I have more free time and not many active threads.

    I also think it might be interesting putting these two together seeing how opposite they seem.]

  • Ralph makes a petulant noise with his lips, a sort of pop. And his brown eyes move over the property, sweeping across its entirety with his gaze. “Well,” he begins, scratching his fat neck absently with unkempt nails, “job kinda failed then. Cuz ain’t nothing more suspicious than a large-ass expensive house, sweet car, and no cover story for a guy like me who might blabber about it far and wide. I’m just surprised ya ain’t gotten raided by the cops yet, thinking yer some kinda drug lord.” A short laugh escapes the rotund man, who then takes another drag of his poison, a playful smirk across his features as nostrils blow a stream of swirling greys. Oh, how he loves to tease sometimes. But not everyone is having such a fun time as he is. Robin, for example, was certainly far from amused. He was growing impatient and frustrated with Ralph, who was bit by bit eroding his patience.

    The vampire makes a low growl in the back of his throat, a warning, and he hobbles up to the man, whispering in a viper tone that only the cab driver can hear, “I told you. Stop.” He looks strained and pale, angry underneath the harsh light of the sun. Ralph immediately responds. “Hey, hey, I didn’t say I was gonna rat the dude out; calm down, Robby ol’ boy.” The middle-aged man murmurs back softly, trying to defuse the situation. He gives a broad smile to the others, Abraham and Gleeon, “we are fine. Just marriage squabbling, nothing else,” he assures. Ralph then turns back his head to Robin. “Yo, you have to keep it together, buddy. You might want them on your side. Or, at least Gleeon. The man is more than what he seems.” 

    Huh? The British vampire cocks his head to the side in silent questioning at that last spoken part, but before Robin has a chance to ask what it meant, Gleeon says; “You can hunker down at our house for a day if need be, though I’m going to strongly urge that you feed yourself good to avoid biting one of us.” Robin, in turn, forces a smile in response. He knew he couldn’t stay that long, or even for an hour or two; he had to be off within the hour. Yet he said nothing and thanked his could-be host graciously. Then, they all followed Abraham.

    The trip around the house, although short, caused Robin great pains. He could barely walk. Luckily, despite his previous attitude towards the man, he got help from Ralph, who dragged the lad along. “There ya go, you can do it, you old blood-sucking cock sucker; I believe in ya.” The heavy man says (encourages?) The vampire sighs, stifling a chuckle. “Have you ever thought about adopting a more gentle, more formal approach, mate?” He questions and Ralph promptly shakes his head. “Nah, ‘mate’, you’d be bored of me, and you’d go to another cab driver who caters to the supernatural.” A tired tug at Robin’s lips, the previously pulled back chuckle slipping from him. He then opens his mouth to apologise for earlier when Ralph cuts him off, an understanding smile on the otherwise crude man. “No need to say yer sorry. I forgive ya.” The two seemed to be back on peaceful terms and watched together as the Steelheart was finally revealed, the revelation about Abraham’s past coming into the light. Needless to say, it took Robin by surprise.

    He slips out from under Ralph’s grasp, taking a few hesitant steps towards the once-deadly machine, though, in the end, he backtracks and remains in place. “You aren’t a vampire,” he states in a daze, looking at Abraham and the tank with befuddlement. His focus shifts between the two. “So I assume something else has prolonged your life? Either that or you are one of the most well-preserved men I have ever seen. This is not stranger however than my last encounter." Robin thinks back to Synova with a chill up his spine.

     

  • Robin tethers in-between states of absolute animalistic frenzy and relative civility. He wasn’t able to answer Abraham, at least at any point when spoken to, he just stared at him vacantly, and hungrily, licking his chops like the emaciated and starving predator that he was. He even snapped at him a couple of times but was luckily far too weak and slow to catch him in his grip. He got tied up without much trouble and thrown in the backseat of the car. The worst he could do was smear blood all over the place, causing Ralph to relent a tired sigh of annoyance and stick another cigarette in his mouth.
    Lighting it, rolling down the windows, he sighs and murmurs to himself in response to Abe’s telling him that he knows a place they’d need to visit. Ralph mutters; “I know a place I will definitely need to go to, pronto after this fuck-up of an ordeal. Mcdonalds. This whole thing stresses me the fuck out. Gonna order me 20 golden fuckin’ nuggets.” Finally, he takes a long drag and from flared nostrils comes a friendly puff of toxic wonderful smoke that would have filled the cab, but thankfully wafts out easily from out the open window.

    The journey from there is smooth, though Robin here and there attempts to free himself or bite at the other occupants of the car. But, realizing he cannot free himself, or actually get at any human prey, he reserves himself to just lick at his jacket for leftover blood or suckle pathetically at his formerly white shirt. He remains unresponsive until the end and only does react when the car door is opened, and the tantalizing aroma of the blood from the cup reaches his sensitive nose. He looks up, his eyes an aggressive shade of red. He does not at all look like the hero who supposedly saved Abe’s life, but just a regular monster.
    He grabs the cup when freed, desperately, and in the process of his hurry spills some on himself. It is brought to his mouth and drunk from greedily, guzzling it all down. Soon his tongue trails around the edges of the cup and his lips. Then, finally, the monster within is satiated enough to start to retreat back into his inner core, allowing some sense of control and humanity to resurface. Immediately, a sense of shame falls upon him, seeing how everyone around him is basically staring at him.
    He also feels confused, not really sure how he got there. Ralph pats him on the back. “Oh don’t feel bad, Rob. You haven’t seen me chug down a fifth of tequila, one calzone and a bag of chips in less than thirty minutes.” Ralph chuckles.
    Robin doesn’t answer and just stares emptily at the three. Ralph takes this as an opportunity and he steps out of the car, walking over and patting the front of the Lamborghini Murcielago. “Damn. How do you afford this, huh? My guess is either a sorcerer or vampire. But you got too much color in yo cheeks” He says to Gleeon, blowing another cloud which obstructs his face for a second.

    He whistles, impressed. “I might have to retract my earlier statement about you not paying, buddy,” he says to both Gleeon and Abe. “In fact...–” He starts again. “Ralph. Stop.” Robin says, cutting him off before he went on any further. He then finally looks at Abe. “Thank you. I think you saved me. So, thank you…” He smiles.

    Ralph adds with a devious smirk, "You wouldn't have needed savin' if you'd just stuck to the plan and not gone out during the daytime like a slack-jawed idiot. I'm sorry, but that's just askin' for trouble."

    "Yes Ralph, my stupidity is duly noted." Robin snaps back.

    "Very duly noted. Very stupid." Ralph returns to taking long drags.

     

     

  • ‘If he really is a vampire, no wonder he survived all those shots.’
    Ralph shot him a confused stare from behind the wheel that lasted for half a sec before his eyes went back to the road. “Huh.” He muttered surprised while rolling with his fat tongue, slapping the roof of his mouth and resulting in a few random ‘bop’ sounds.
    “So ya didn’t know Robin after all?” He does not question, but rather states, and there’s another ‘bop’. He then continues, saying; “Well calm that flapping puss o’ yours, this ain’t my first time on the rodeo, champ. I’ve been in plenty of car chases - on both sides actually. So I’ll bet you anything ya will get the chance to git to know ‘em in time. I guarantee it.” He flashes a yellow-toothed grin of confident reassurance. He then puts the pedal to the metal and really speeds after, allowing Abraham to close the distance so that he was within shooting range, but only just. Which just goes to show Abe’s level of expert marksmanship at full display, because soon enough a few of those speeding bullets shot in pure desperation puncture rubber, and for a moment there’s that god awful screech, of bare steel kissing the road. But there comes an abrupt end when, suddenly, the car flips.
    It begins to roll, violently, tumbling down the road several times. And like a fine dining glass thrown into the washer, it smashes beyond recognition.

    When it finally stopped, standing upright and in a fixed position, not a single window remained intact, and the casing was bent, dented, and horribly twisted beyond reasonable repair.
    Boom. The hood burst open, the metal sheet bending upwards in an explosive display of fire and smoke as the engine caught on fire. Meanwhile, Ralph has to twist the steering wheel sharply and just so narrowly avoids a sideways collision. He manages to stop his cab, fifteen or so feet later.
    “Well, shit…that was close.” Ralph comments, massaging the wheel nervously. He runs his hand over his head, lifting and then putting back his ballcap. “Now please, can you go and get Robin?” He asks.
    “And don’t you go shootin’ less ya have ta, aight? Murder on humans ain’t something I’m comfortable watching.” He adds.

    Ralph then notices something, in the rearview mirror…The three men were escaping by foot from outta the car! And one of them Ralph saw was holding his hand to his neck, bleeding profusely, red coming squirting through his fingers, despite how tight he kept them together.
    The second in tow was helping the third, for he could scarcely walk by himself, him leaking blood from his foot still.
    They were trying to go - fleeing into the forest, apparently leaving Robin behind to burn.

    …………………………………………………..
    A moment earlier, in the car -

    The force of the impact, of the sudden stop, hurls the vampire forwards, and he lands slumped across the seat in front of him. He can hear a gasp of fear, elicited from beneath his weight, and sees with red wanting eyes a little bit of delicate, exposed skin.
    There is no hesitation, not even for a split second, as he bites down hard and viciously enough not only to sink his elongated fangs into the driver’s throat, but to rip into flesh, tear apart muscle.
    Almost immediately the world becomes clearer, as life pours into him from the other beings' cup.
    He drinks and he drinks, suckling at the barest teats of life until he feels a bit stronger, enough so that he feels sensation return to his limbs. He can move.
    He reaches out with desperate hands, and he clings to the other person's clothes, arms, head - anything to keep on gorging himself with blood without his prey escaping, for it thrashes and it fights in his arms something fierce. Like a fish on a line.
    Somewhere he knew there was a fire, he could hear its breath, sense its heat coming closer. But it didn’t matter to him. All that mattered was the blood. And if he would perish in his pursuit, burn to death - so be it.

    Kapoow! The very thing happened which he wished did not, as he’s hit in the head with something blunt, and terribly heavy, yet it certainly saved his unlife.

    It knocked him off his prey, and in a daze, he can hear it scramble to get away, yet he still holds on with his claws. “GET OFF OF HIM!” Someone screamed and hit him a second time, harder, this time causing him to let go fully. And as they escaped from his iron grip, he savoured the sweet taste of the ones who hurt him, licking his chops.

    He is far from sated, but it is enough to bring him back to the now, anchor himself somewhat to reality and snap back from being a simple-minded, feral animal only looking to quell his infernal and unholy urge to feed.

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"“I’m the only chance you got!” As much as Gleeon understood their concerns, he made a crude attempt…"
Feb 28
Gleeon replied to Merlyn de Aternia's discussion No Good Deed (closed rp)
"For a couple of months now, Gleeon and the boys were struggling to find a safer home, away from…"
Feb 11
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