Dhampir

[Bloodeye the Bai Ze]

(Since I haven't really been writing too many stories, I figured I should put something up.)

"Come one, come all!" called out a tall, lanky man. His skin was a pale, almost anemic. His platinum blonde hair was long, tied at the back with a red ribbon, draping over the back of a silver breastplate. Beneath his gilded plate was a white shirt, loose in the sleeves like bags over his arms. His pants had silver plating on the thighs, covering white pantaloons.

His foot rested on the buckboard of large wagon that was decorated with various banners and signs. He smiled widely at the mud covered villagers that had gathered around his wheeled platform.

"I am here to be your salvation!" He leapt off the wagon, his silver boots stained with the brackish mud when he landed. "I have come from lands far and wide to your simple village because I have heard of an insidious plague that has befallen you poor, hapless people." He stopped, gauging the expressions that stared at him. He turned around, keeping his back to his audience while smirking discreetly.

"VAMPIRE!!!" The pale man yelled, his fingers curled to mock claws while opening his mouth wide, showing his own sharp canines to get his theatrics across. Perhaps too well, since several women screamed in horror, dropping their daily gatherings from the fields to the ground.

"Oh... but don't fear, my poor friends." The man continued. "For you are in the presence of a being capable of dealing with your undead attacker."

"How is it that you can kill this demon!" called out a large man, his face chiseled with scars from a life of toil. "We assembled all the men in the village to hunt this creature down! We tracked it back to the old graveyard, to the tomb of James Kerbos... Can you ever imagine what we found there?"

"Please!" a young beauty, though a bit dirty, leapt on spring toes between the scarred man and the silver haired hero. "No more! We've lost so many to the Kerbos monster! He's hellspawn! We've been able to keep him at bay recently. He seems less active of late. He stays in the cemetery and doesn't bother us in town. Perhaps it's the grace of God, but we dare not incur the vampire's wrath!"

The strange man walked up to her. His deep blue eyes stared down at her as he reached around her into an embrace. "My dear, dear girl. I will not let a creature of such damnation harm a hair on your head." He waved his arm to the rest of the villagers. "Nor will I let it hurt anyone else in this town!"

"How can you make such a claim?" another villager called out.

The man released his hold of the girl and waltzed back to his wagon, a coy grin gently sliding across his face. He grasped a silver laden handle on the side of the wagon. "Because... you see..."

The handle flashed as the man pulled it quickly. The sides of the wagon flipped open, revealing shelves upon shelves of weapons. Silver hilt swords gleamed in the little sunlight peeking from the heavy clouds. Stakes of hawthorne and oak lay on silk cushions like prize possessions.

The villagers gaped at awe of the gleaming silver, the most precious metal any of them had seen at one time.

The man exploited their unwavering attention, adding a flourish to his return to facing them. His smile was wide, his hair blowing in a convenient breeze, adding to his already proud and vibrant image.

"I... am a Dhampir."

(to be continued)

[Bloodeye the Bai Ze]

The inn was a buzz with the throngs of peasants, all happily shouting and clapping. Never in their dreams had they imagined they'd be so fortunate as to have an actual dhampir come to their squalid little town. Even more intrigueing was this half-vamyre's tale of his existence.

"I was born twenty-five seasons ago. My father was a nosferatu, of course, but not just any blood drinker. Why, he was a vampyr lord! A high ranking night demon. A vampire feared by vampires!"

He paused, his thumb and finger held against his chin as he went into deep thought.

"My poor mother... caught by the ravages of this creature, spared by his fangs, but not by my own birth." He looked around the room, watching the riveted people staring at him, some close to tears. He clenched his fist to his chest dramatically. "They say an infant cannot remember their birth, but I remember her face, sprayed with her own blood from my exit of her womb through the slice in her belly, both beautiful and horrifying at once."

Now the women started to cry, while the men had looks of horror on their faces.

"I was a lonely child, so ostracized for what I am. The other's in my small village, much like yours, they treated me like I was the monster. It wasn't until my father returned to my town did I have a chance to prove myself."

"Your drink, sir." said the smiling innkeeper. He was young, probably no more than twenty-two in age. His look was that of a man who hadn't seen to much toil. He had untouched skin, no scars or pockmarks blemishing his dermis. He had light blue eyes in an almond shaped face, shaven and clean, very much unlike the other men in the village. His build was lean, though somewhat muscular. His brown hair was combed back.

"Oh, thank you." The hero said, reaching into his coat pocket for some coin.

"No no sir! All your drinks are free." the innkeeper said, a worried look creasing his brow.

"Really? That's quite kind of you." the hero responded with a grin.

"Well, you are the saviour of our town. Why I'd be no better than that vampire himself if I charged you."

"Here, here Smith!" a gruff man yelled, raising a mug of ale.

"Show him all the hospitality you can, innkeep!" yelled another slightly inebriated local.

"Please, continue your story." the young woman from before pleaded, enraptured with the silver hair rogue and his debonair charm.

The dhampir smiled at her with a flash of his fangs, making her gasp with a sudden infatuation.

"Yes... now where was I..." he took his gaze from the girl and up to the ceiling. "Oh that's right!... My father." He cleared his throat, bringing his face back down to the villagers. "I was only a boy of sixteen years when my devil father returned to wreak yet more torment upon my village. Even then, I could feel his blood in my veins and knew that it was my fate... nay my duty!... to destroy him with all my strength."

He jumped upon the table. "I fought him with but my bare hands! We struggled in the town square for all to see!" He raised hsi arm to his forehead, turning away from some imaginary horror. "His grotesque face was pale and sunken! His fangs dripped the blood of his previously murdered victims! My fear was great. All my body spoke to me and it said to run..."

The hero suddenly leapt from his table to a neighboring one, sending mugs and plates flying, beer and food splattering against the floor and anyone not fast enough to dodge. "But I fought on! I would not let something so trivial as fear stop me! I battled him into the blacksmith shop. I grabbed the nearest weapon: the smith's hammer. I swung and struck at my parental creature, even plunging it's undead head into the forge fire! But, did that stopped the monster?"

He paused, taking in the breathless air of the inn, as no one dare breathe while he told his tale.

"NO!" he yelled, making all jump.

"He still came at me, just torched skull, but his eyes burned with hellish fury!" he leapt to yet another table, once again sending the contents of which all over. "I finally fought him into the church graveyard. Yes, I was in his element. He seemed to get stronger on the blighted ground from which he had risen. All seemed lost for me, friends."

"But..." he lifted his arms out. " The grace of God was on my side! For, standing alone on the graveyard, was a lone hawthorne tree! I leapt to the tree and tore off a branch with my free hand, hewing into a makeshift stake."

"The creature lunged, mouth full of teeth, ready to grip my throat and drain my life from it! I lifted my stake and I lifted my hammer, and with all the strength in my arms, I swung my only weapons at the the vampire!"

The dhampir let out a loud yell, reenacting the final blow with empty hands. His arms swung down and slammed against table with a thunderous bang.

The whole inn was silent. No one dared to make a noise, not even inhale too loudly.

The hero lifted his body from the table slowly, standing at full height with a determined look on his face. He pointed down at his nonexistent foe.

"And there... I laid my father to final rest."

For a few seconds, the silence remained. The villagers stared at the dhampir with the same reverence they would give to a preacher or even a king.

The sudden roar of applause erupted out of the inn doors. Not a single chair was seated in the building, all persons screaming with praise.

The girl stepped onto the table the dhampir stood upon. She stood next to him as he bowed to his audience appreciatively, a bit hesitant to even touch this great man. She reached up to his hair, lifting it away from his ear.

She had to stand on her toes, but she held her lips to his ear so only he could hear her.

"Stay with me tonight."

[zulazza]

(( I'm enjoying this immensely. I actually laughed trying to imagine him leaping about on the tables. >>;; But, I look forward to more of this tale. And you better damn well supply it.

No, no, I kid.

But, seriously, it might be in everyone's best interest if I don't have to wait too long. >>;; ))

[Bloodeye the Bai Ze]

"All the gold in this town... and I don't think I would have equalled such a reward." The silver-haired man said, his eyes closed and a wide smile on his face. He lay back in the bed, sighing out of exhaustion and ecstasy from the night before.

The girl was brushing her hair in a small hand mirror, happily humming a song to herself.

"Say..." the man continued, now sitting up to speak with her, "... I know you might be a bit struck by my heroism and all, but I've never met a woman who was so... hmmm... fast as you were. I hope you weren't looking for anything from our little experience."

The girl chuckled slightly. "Oh... call it a whim."

"A whim?" the man seemed a bit upset by the comment.

"Don't get me wrong. It's not like a wanted to use you. I was just... intrigued about "spending time" with a dhampir."

"Oh..." the man said, relaxing from her answer. "So... what did you think?"

"I can say that I've never had a man like you." she said, turning around with a smirk.

"I'm fairly sure you're not a vir- ... OH! I see! A play on words. Very funny." He looked at her as she continued to brush her hair. He stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Do you have any family?" he asked, getting out of the bed and stretching.

"No."

"No ties to keep you here?"

"Well... just one." she said, now curious what he was getting at. "Why are you asking me this?"

"Well, I was just thinking," the man walked up to her and placed his hands on her shoulders, ", that you should come with me after this job is done."

"Come with you?! Out to kill vampires! I'd be insane to do that! I could get killed or worse, turned into one of those monsters!"

"No! Listen.." he took hold of her hand. "I have something very important to tell you. Something you can't tell the other villagers. Do you promise me you will keep this to yourself?"

She nodded, though completely unsure of what grave secret he was about to tell her.

There was a long drawing of breath by the man, gathering his thoughts together, then he spoke.

"Vampires do not exist."

There was a pause, both verbally and physically for the woman. She just stared back at him, taking in his words. Finally, all the warmth went out of her face.

"WHAT?!"

"I know it must be a shock, but_"

"But... but how?... How can you say that?! The people who die from their life being drained away slowly... the corpses found not rotted, blood on their lips and their nails grown into claws? You're a dhampir! How do you explain yourself?"

"Myself?" He sat back at the foot of the bed. "I'm a dhampir in name only. There are no real dhampir becasue there aren't any real vampires. See, my mother raised me on her own. I had no father. And I was born looking like this. What do you think I was called all my life? I knew I wasn't the son of a nightwalker though."

"But... the corpses and the victims-"

"Probably an illness took the "victims"." He interrupted, "The corpses are easy to explain. the dead don't rot immediately. It takes a lot of time. The blood and nails are simply that process starting to show."

"But... if that's true then... you're... lying to everyone!"

The man let out a sigh. "Like I said. I was called a dhampir all my life. So, what other profession could I have done? There's no danger at all in placing a few stakes in some dead people. And I get paid quite handsomely for my service. Not to mention I like to play the part."

"I can't believe it! You're just a charlatan! A lying thief!"

"Wait! That's not fair! I do good."

"How?"

The man scratched his silver mane. "Well... sure I'm lying, but if I told people the truth, would it help them?" He looked at this woman, knowing she must feel terrible for even knowing him. "The truth doesn't give people hope. In fact, all it does is make people lose hope." He placed his hands behind his head as he continued to explain.

"But when you lie to people, then they hope. Sure, I'm not doing anything by defiling the dead the way I am, and yes, I am taking these people's money, but I'll tell you this: They'll be a happy lot after I'm done. Even if more people die in the same way as before, they'll still hope because then they know they can do something about it, even when in truth they can't."

The woman's expression was uncertain. In one hand, she wanted to kill this man who saw fit to make a mockery of small town farmers and peasants, playing off of their fears and superstitions just to fill his own coin purse. And yet, in the other, she felt that perhaps he was doing... some good.

"Why... are you telling me this." she whispered, tears starting to well up in her eyes.

"Because... I... I wanted to you to know so you wouldn't be afraid to leave. I can give you whatever you want. Anything you want. Most of all, I can give you a life out of the dirt and the fields. I'm telling you so I can help you get out of this place! There are cities and countries that have no superstitions! Places where we can be happy... together."

There was a silence. The room seemed to grow smaller, the air heavier.

"Please leave."

"B-But-" the man stammered, trying to explain his position again, but was cut off by a finger pointed at the door.

"Leave."

The man looked at this woman, a woman he was willing to share his secret an his life with. He could have asked why, but he didn't need to. She wasn't even looking at him anymore, just staring at the floor.

It was the same as every other time. He was always too brash with women.

The man stood up, put on his clothes and did as she asked. After all, it was time he finished his business with these fools and leave before he regretted it.

[Bloodeye the Bai Ze]

"Are you sure you'll be going in on your own?" asked a villager, toddling besides the silver haired man. The whole village was following him up the path into the cemetery. Nearly every peasant cringed as they passed through the gate. The "so-called" dhampir didn't make a response to it. His mind was still ridden with the guilt of lying to the girl.

"Are any of you willing to go in with me?" he asked in reply, perhaps a bit too harshly than he should have. No one raised a hand as they hung their heads sheepishly, knowing full well not single one of them had the courage to enter the crypt of the Kerbos family.

The graveyard was solemn, yet not frightening, at least not to him. He had gone into many a tomb and grave. He remembered the first time he ever dug up a dead body just to shove a wooden stake through it's heart, break the legs so he could cross them and cut off the head, stuff garlic in the mouth, and place it so it's facing west. Oh, was he ever the performer that day! Mystified the villagers in that town with his bravery, went back to the room they had set him with for his stay, and vomited till he couldn't vomit anymore.

It got easier every time. The bones broke smoother, the head was cut cleaner, the stake went in like a knife in butter. And the stench of decay came out with a wash of fresh cow urine.

He grimaced at that thought. It took his mind off of the girl for long enough that he and the mob of townsfolk reached the old mausoleum.

It was decrepit stone, worn and pot-marked from the wind and rain. Moss and lichen grew on the sides of the tomb, trying to pull it back into the earth. In the decaying rock above a rusted metal door was the single word:

Kerbos

"I take it this is his lair?" The silver haired man asked, trying to keep up his theatrics by sounding amused at finding the "vampires" hideout.

"Yes. The monster resides in this cursed tomb." answered one villager.

"Do be careful, dhampir. James Kerbos is ancient, likely a vampire of great strength."

"Oh I've faced worse, I'm sure." the hero said, grabbing a hold of the iron handle to the tomb. He wrenched it open quickly, the loud scraping of the metal against the ground screeching in the air. Many of the villagers strode back a ways, making sure they were out of the way if the vampire leapt out to attack.

The hero stared into the mausoleum. Instead of finding the graves, he instead could see a long winding set of stairs.

"I thought you told me this was a mausoleum?"

"It is sir. What else would it be?" answered a cowering peasant.

"This is a gate to a catacombs, not a mausoleum."

"Is... is it a problem for you sir?"

"Well, I need a torch if I'm-" he was interrupted by numerous torches being thrust at him, inexplicably lit when he wasn't looking.

It unnerved him a bit that the villagers were more prepared than he was.

He grabbed the nearest torch. "Oh... well thank you." He adjusted the straps that held his various weapons, most of which were for show than anything else. "I'm off. Now remember, don't open this door for any reason. I'll exit on my own. In fact, no one stay in the graveyard while I'm doing battle with the beast, as you might be drawn into the conflict by mistake." He turned, holding the torch in front of him into the dark corridor.

He turned once more to lok back at the villagers who were watching him silently, wide eyes peering. He sighed and entered the stairwell, only to have the door closed immediately behind him. The torchlight flickered in the darkness.

"I should really invest in getting a better occupation."

[Lilam]

((Me likey! ^_^ I'm really interested in what's down in the catacombs. *creepy ambiance music begins to play* Err, can't wait for moar! >_> *replaces creepy CD with a different one* *Blade music starts playing* *go-go dances*))

[Meleta/Isoldaa]

(( All righty, the premise on this put a big smile on my face - the rogue hero who is, but actually is not, and can't keep "the girl." *huge grin* Looking forward to where you'll be taking this. ))

[Jenny (Reffy)]

((Loved it! Wanting the next part, about the catacombs, like right now!

I don't deal well with suspense

Its very easy to fall in love with the main character. The way it was written is easy to follow. The idea of the story is interesting. Would have liked to have known a little more about the girl, such as a name and quick appearance description.))

[Bloodeye the Bai Ze]

The dank smell of wet rock and decayed flesh merged together into a smell truly unique to catacombs. No other kind of grave had that smell. A coffin reeked of moldy wood. A mausoleum of dried bones and dust. But a catacombs... very much a toxic odor. The kind of odor that reached through your nostrils and lay on your tongue. You could literally taste the dead.

The silver haired man continued down the stairway. It seemed to go on forever. His steps plodded along on the cold stone until he finally felt the rounded footing of cobblestone insted of the hard slabs that were the stairs.

He raised his torch around, but still the room was black. He walked to his left, trying to find a wall or something to get an orientation of where he was. He found a wall, noting the patchy stone work that made it. His eyes drifted down onto a solid metal plate that was placed into the wall near the bottom. He bent down, feeling the slight ache in his calves from walking down all the stairs.

Henry Kerbos

"Hmph... Well, I'm in the right catacombs, at least." the man said, tapping on the marker with his knuckles.

He stood up, but almost hit his head on a trough that was running along the wall. The man stared at the odd interior anomaly for a little while before reaching his hand into the it. He could feel his gloves touch a liquid inside the trough. He pulled his hand back and smelled the glove.

No scent.

His tongue hesitantly escaped his lips and touched it to the solution on his fingers. he immediately began to spit after sampling the taste.

"Ugh. It's oil." he finally muttered after spitting the taste from his mouth. The silver haired man lifted his torch and peered into the trough. The oil flickered the light back at him, distorting his image in the reflection.

"That's odd. No real reason for their to be oil in here. No one's gonna need this place lit up." He pondered the truth behind such an addition to dank tomb for a little while, but then shrugged and dipped his torch into the oil.

Flame raced down the wall, following the trough along the wall. The man watched as the fire circled around the corner of the next wall, ignite two oddly placed lamps, then continue the same way on the other side of the vault. The room was bathed in the warm, yellow firelight, revealing even more metal markers along the walls. They all denoted some Kerbos, long dead and rotting inside their graves.

The only thing out of place was a single stone sarcophagus, set between the two lamps. "And I'll bet my silver that where my "vampire" is resting." The man said, tightening the straps on his paraphernalia, the weight of which kept loosening the belts holding them onto his shoulders.

He rested his hands onto the stone cover of the grave. There was a rusted iron plate bolt straight through the rock, on which he read the epitaph.

"Well, that's not very nice of them to put that on your grave." The man said to the long dead Kerbos housed inside the stone coffin. He pulled free an prying bar from his straps. He'd come across plenty of shut up tombs in his line of work. Best to be prepared to wrench some poor soul's coffin open.

He rammed the bar into the crack of the lid. He heaved at the bar to move the slab. "*unf* I bet you weren't even that bad of a person. *arg* Why *ugh* I bet those villagers just didn't like you *ah* cause you were richer than they were. Poor people can get quite vengeful with people who have more than they do."

No matter how he pushed on the stone slab, he could only budge it open a little. "Well... if you are a vampire, you'd need help getting out of your grave." He wiped the sweat from his brow. "A lot of help, I think."

A soothing cool breeze drifted across his forehead. It felt good after trying to pry the lid off of the case... until something peculiar crossed his mind. If he was in a catacombs, deep underground, how was he feeling a breeze? Did one of the villagers open the door above, letting some cool air in? No. He would have heard the loud scrape of the door even down here. Perhaps there was a shaft somewhere, allowing air to filter into the tomb, so if it was to be opened, the build up of toxins in the air would drift out.

The breeze suddenly changed into a frigid wind. The cold went straight to his bone, sending a deep quiver up his back. The flames on the walls flickered in the wind, the room growing dimmer. He turned around, walking back down the room to investigate what was going on.

Then he heard it.

The soft grinding of stone on stone. The sound paralyzed him in place.

It can't be! It can't be the case. I tried as hard as I could to move it and it barely moved. No. It must be something else. it must be-

His thoughts were interrupted by the horribly loud crash of the stone lid to James Kerbos' coffin.

Now he could move, if only out of fear. His body moved on it's own, ready to access what had just happened. He turned around, staring at the fallen lid, rereading the inscription bolted to it:

Here Lies
James Kerbos
May God forever damn his soul

His eyes drifted from the placard to the coffin itself. His mind was whispering Don't move. Please... don't let anything move.

His internal begging wasn't heard. A bony, clawed hand, the skin taut to the sinew, coiled it's fingers around the edge of the sarcophagus. The nails dug into the rock, grating as they pulled. A head teetered out of the case, held up by only neck bone and sinew. It looked close to falling off.

It was breathing.

The head turned, the decayed visage facing the now horrified man. Two white orbs appeared in it's sockets. The man couldn't help but stare as the creature, gangly and partially mummified, crawled it's way out of the coffin. It stood on the bones in it's feet, what was left of it's death shroud clinging to the tight skin. It stared at him, not making a movement.

It screamed, as did the man in tow. The creatures body began to quiver and convulse. The arm joints popped as the bones grew. The dried out muscle seemed to grow, gaining it's fluidity and moisture. The skin regenerated over the recovered muscle. The head began to elongate, the teeth growing longer and sharper.

Short, inky black fur, like bristles on a brush, began to cover the body. The bones in the forearms separated and began to form the makings of leathery wings.

The man could only continue screaming as the corpse grew larger and larger, into the form of a massive humanoid bat, still decayed and rotting, but evermore frightening.

The man's feet were heavy, but his fear was driving him to turn around. Turn around and run. He kept his eyes on the creature, though he didn't want to, but he didn't want it to get him from behind without him knowing.

He ran. His head still looking at the monster, but he still ran blindly toward the stairs. He hoped he would feel a step and then just run up the stairway to the outside. He didn't even think about the order he had given to the villagers to not open the door. He didn't think that he wouldn't get the door open in time. None of that crossed his mind.

He didn't see what he ran into, due to keeping his eyes on the beast. It felt soft, yet unforgiving. His head spun around as he grabbed a hold of his obstacle. He felt the softness of skin and cloth in his fingertips. He looked down, his eyes meeting a very familiar gaze.

It was the girl.

[J.O.N ((Dragonwing))]

Dun Dun DUUUUN!

[Bloodeye the Bai Ze]

(Sooo... in recent discussion with Lilam, who may or may not be currently putting a gun to my head, has asked *cough* demanded *cough* I might be finishing this story... that's almost five years old. Now... what was my plot again?)