Date: 7/7/2001 9:46 PM Central Daylight Time
From: TarethThrn
Here he was again, wrapped tightly in his large canvas coat. As he peered at the old warehouse before him, he tipped the hat a bit higher on his head, giving him view all the way to the top of the crumbling masonry and broken windows of the building and the riverfront behind it. His hands were wrapped about in black ribbons up to his wrists. His nose and mouth were
covered with the same slithery black fabric.
He pulled the Walther from its holster under his left arm, his sharp silvery eyes checking it over. Pulling a clip from one of the voluminous pockets, he angles it into the chamber, the symbol painted on it winks dully in the weak starlight... a red circle and bar crossing out long teeth. He slams it home against his thigh, the solid click reassuring in the yet-unbroken silence of the night.
Another moment passes as he turns his left arm about in the large sleeve, making sure his backup nasty surprise is ready. His explosives, as always, were safely nestled into the lining attached to the harness encircling his chest. Putting his handgun up, nimble fingers pull one of the small glass spheres from its shallow velveteen cusp, jostling it into flaring white light.
Lifting the goggles to his eyes, he flicks through the readouts. Bloodsuckers had an annoying tendency to not show up on the infrared scope, so he instead shifted to the barometric motion detection readout. There they were, two waiting just inside the door to either side, three perched above it. Damn, he hated being right.
He dropped the goggles into his raggedy rucksack, leaving it at his watching post in the cool alley as he crossed into the street. The makings of an emergency exit plan were firm in his mind as he watched the dark coil of water sluice by behind the factory. He paused in the middle of the road, again shaking his small glass marble.
"Here we go."
A Disturbing Prelude
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Re: A Disturbing Prelude
Date: 7/7/2001 9:50 PM Central Daylight Time
From: TarethThrn
The factory door blasted inward, taking Malachai by surprise. His guards flew in all directions, scattered like leaves on a strong wind. The chains hanging down from the ceiling all about the warehouse floor rattled and swayed in the aftermath of the explosion. Lifting his head and smoothing his long black hair away from his face again, he peered to the hole left in
pitted and ridged aluminum wall. Small flames left in the doorway framed a dark figure casually entering.
"Bravo, an excellent entrance." Malachai clapped his large hands, once more reclining into the chair his servants had carried him in on.
"I'm hurt Malachai. Here I thought you'd given up on that dirty trick." Tareth strolled in, furtively observant underneath the casual veneer. There were dark figures amongst the scattered door debris, some were stirring already. Those were no consequence just yet, the host of others wandering along the catwalks near the windows were more of his concern. He counted nearly twenty still standing.
"Why pay for what I can simply take?" The large vampire spoke again, shifting in his seat. Although Tareth already knew he was crippled, unable to walk, he was still immensely dangerous. Vampires as old as Malachai commanded vast magical powers, if anything he'd researched was to be trusted. He was clad in dark furs and a silver crown, sitting in a vast mahogany chair with poles extending back and fore. "So, my unnamed thief, have
you brought me what I desire?"
"What, no chit-chat? Where have the manners of this trade gone?" Tareth halted in the midst of the concrete floor, pausing in the open space before the conveyer belts and large, unused machines piled up. The chains hanging down from above made tinny noises as they scraped the floor, swaying in the breeze let in by his impromptu renovation.
"There are heavy consequences for wasting my time, thief."
A long pause followed, until Malachai's face twisted to a scowl. Just as he opened his pointy-toothed mouth to order this upstart destroyed, Tareth spoke again.
"Who's the buyer?"
"What? What do you mean?" Malachai's annoyance turned to puzzlement, then back. "I have your money right here, give me the opal. You are nearly outliving your allotted patience with me, human."
"Who are you protecting, Malachai? It isn't like you to play middleman, second fiddle. You don't want this opal, you couldn't stand touching it. Who's the end buyer, Malachai?" Tareth remained cool, although his fingers tightened around the handle of his gun.
The large vampire narrowed his eyes at the puny creature who dared defy him. "You presume to know a great deal more than you are capable of handling, human." With a snap of Malachai's fingers, the dark clad figures closed in on the mortal in their midst.
Tareth pulled out the Walther, immediately emptying the clip. He fired thirteen shots, one into each of the bodies closest to him. Most of them laughed, some fell over if the bullet struck them in an awkward spot, one didn't get up as he'd been shot in the forehead.
"Was that supposed to hurt?" The guard closest to Tareth sneered as he righted himself, looking at the small hole in his shoulder. Tareth, however, was already busy throwing himself to the ground.
The speaking vampire didn't even have much time to wonder what his prey was doing before another explosion echoed through the large empty space. Another and another rocked the relative silence, thirteen in all. Waves of fire and heat threw most of the others off their feet, Malachai shrouded his face with his cape.
The sound of the chains scraping against the concrete filled ringing ears afterward. The unharmed vampires finally looked out, finding only piles of flesh and scorch marks where thirteen of their comrades had been.
----------=Thorn=----------
From: TarethThrn
The factory door blasted inward, taking Malachai by surprise. His guards flew in all directions, scattered like leaves on a strong wind. The chains hanging down from the ceiling all about the warehouse floor rattled and swayed in the aftermath of the explosion. Lifting his head and smoothing his long black hair away from his face again, he peered to the hole left in
pitted and ridged aluminum wall. Small flames left in the doorway framed a dark figure casually entering.
"Bravo, an excellent entrance." Malachai clapped his large hands, once more reclining into the chair his servants had carried him in on.
"I'm hurt Malachai. Here I thought you'd given up on that dirty trick." Tareth strolled in, furtively observant underneath the casual veneer. There were dark figures amongst the scattered door debris, some were stirring already. Those were no consequence just yet, the host of others wandering along the catwalks near the windows were more of his concern. He counted nearly twenty still standing.
"Why pay for what I can simply take?" The large vampire spoke again, shifting in his seat. Although Tareth already knew he was crippled, unable to walk, he was still immensely dangerous. Vampires as old as Malachai commanded vast magical powers, if anything he'd researched was to be trusted. He was clad in dark furs and a silver crown, sitting in a vast mahogany chair with poles extending back and fore. "So, my unnamed thief, have
you brought me what I desire?"
"What, no chit-chat? Where have the manners of this trade gone?" Tareth halted in the midst of the concrete floor, pausing in the open space before the conveyer belts and large, unused machines piled up. The chains hanging down from above made tinny noises as they scraped the floor, swaying in the breeze let in by his impromptu renovation.
"There are heavy consequences for wasting my time, thief."
A long pause followed, until Malachai's face twisted to a scowl. Just as he opened his pointy-toothed mouth to order this upstart destroyed, Tareth spoke again.
"Who's the buyer?"
"What? What do you mean?" Malachai's annoyance turned to puzzlement, then back. "I have your money right here, give me the opal. You are nearly outliving your allotted patience with me, human."
"Who are you protecting, Malachai? It isn't like you to play middleman, second fiddle. You don't want this opal, you couldn't stand touching it. Who's the end buyer, Malachai?" Tareth remained cool, although his fingers tightened around the handle of his gun.
The large vampire narrowed his eyes at the puny creature who dared defy him. "You presume to know a great deal more than you are capable of handling, human." With a snap of Malachai's fingers, the dark clad figures closed in on the mortal in their midst.
Tareth pulled out the Walther, immediately emptying the clip. He fired thirteen shots, one into each of the bodies closest to him. Most of them laughed, some fell over if the bullet struck them in an awkward spot, one didn't get up as he'd been shot in the forehead.
"Was that supposed to hurt?" The guard closest to Tareth sneered as he righted himself, looking at the small hole in his shoulder. Tareth, however, was already busy throwing himself to the ground.
The speaking vampire didn't even have much time to wonder what his prey was doing before another explosion echoed through the large empty space. Another and another rocked the relative silence, thirteen in all. Waves of fire and heat threw most of the others off their feet, Malachai shrouded his face with his cape.
The sound of the chains scraping against the concrete filled ringing ears afterward. The unharmed vampires finally looked out, finding only piles of flesh and scorch marks where thirteen of their comrades had been.
----------=Thorn=----------
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Re: A Disturbing Prelude
Date: 7/7/2001 9:53 PM Central Daylight Time
From: TarethThrn
A sharp click turned all eyes back to Tareth, standing just off where he had been, the gun aimed directly at the chest of the vampire in command. His hat was missing, thrown off by the hot winds of destruction.
"You," Malachai gurgled, his voice thick with hate. He knew those pale spikes of hair, that face, even masked. The memory of the man that crippled him would forever live in his mind.
"I'm not going to ask you a third time, Malachai." Tareth cocked the hammer, elicting a more delicate click than the loading of another cartridge. "Who's the end buyer?"
His words fell on ears deafened by rage. Malachai raised his hands, each surrounded with a greasy yellow light, clasping them to the chains hanging down about him. He chanted, a sound lost in the noise of more gunshots.
These projectiles never reached their target. The chains surrounding Tareth lifted up, whipping about with venom seemingly equal to the fury of their animator. Explosions once more rocked the warehouse, the chains moving to absorb fire meant for Malachai. Other chains seized the man firing, wrapping crushingly around his chest and arm, squeezing a pained moan from their captive.
A grin slipped across Malachai's thin red lips, he directed the chains to constrict tighter and lift Tareth into the air. Torture was foremost in his mind, this creature would pay dearly. He'd often thought of seeking the thief out, entertaining thoughts of vengeance. Now he would live out each of those fantasies. He would have simply killed Tareth then and there if he were a wiser man, or more versed in his opponent's past of unpredictability.
Tareth's right arm had been left free for the moment, it had been extended to hold the gun and not directly part of the chains' attack. He forsook his weapon, dropping the Walther to reach over to his left sleeve.
Were this less dire an occasion, he would have relished in the fact that his light saber fired instantaneously as he activated it. He'd been working for nearly a year to get it to operate reliably.
In an arc of light, he slashed the chains binding him. More chains and vampires assaulted him as he landed, yet between the saber and his fists he managed to clear a slight space around him. But he was fast waning, and his saber started flickering again. Several of Malachai's guards still stalked in the long, undulating chains, patiently awaiting the proper moment to strike.
Tareth was pissed. Leaping up, he seized one of the few remaining chains about him long enough to reach his position. Flicking open the access panel door on his saber, he jammed the last metal link into the energy crystal, let go and hit the deck.
The light was blinding, even on his tightly shut eyelids. All about him screams ripped the air accompanied by sizzles of flesh, the scent of burnt vampire crept strong into his nostrils. He could hear the saber above him sputter and whine as the high-power crystal discharged its massive electrical payload.
Finally things silenced, only the scraping of lazily swinging chains prevailed. Tareth picked up his Walther and got to his feet, peering about. On all sides, crispy corpses lay scattered. Malachai's form was equally black and papery-looking, his chair still slowly smoldering. His mouth was open in a silent cry, his pointy teeth yet gleaming, the bones of his arms still stuck to the chains they had grasped.
Turning from the grizzly, yet oddly heartlifting sight, Tareth tried to pull his saber from the end of the chain. It was futile, the metal had been fused into a nearly indistinguishable lump.
"Damn you Malachai." Pivoting, he fired a shot into the cadaver in the chair. Picking up his hat, he jammed it on his head and stuck his hands in his pocket, leaving through the same hole he'd come in by.
Even the sound of Malachai's corpse disintegrating in the last explosion didn't cheer him, the visit was altogether unsatisfying. He was no closer to the answers he sought, and the question was becoming even more disturbing than ever.
----------=Thorn=----------
From: TarethThrn
A sharp click turned all eyes back to Tareth, standing just off where he had been, the gun aimed directly at the chest of the vampire in command. His hat was missing, thrown off by the hot winds of destruction.
"You," Malachai gurgled, his voice thick with hate. He knew those pale spikes of hair, that face, even masked. The memory of the man that crippled him would forever live in his mind.
"I'm not going to ask you a third time, Malachai." Tareth cocked the hammer, elicting a more delicate click than the loading of another cartridge. "Who's the end buyer?"
His words fell on ears deafened by rage. Malachai raised his hands, each surrounded with a greasy yellow light, clasping them to the chains hanging down about him. He chanted, a sound lost in the noise of more gunshots.
These projectiles never reached their target. The chains surrounding Tareth lifted up, whipping about with venom seemingly equal to the fury of their animator. Explosions once more rocked the warehouse, the chains moving to absorb fire meant for Malachai. Other chains seized the man firing, wrapping crushingly around his chest and arm, squeezing a pained moan from their captive.
A grin slipped across Malachai's thin red lips, he directed the chains to constrict tighter and lift Tareth into the air. Torture was foremost in his mind, this creature would pay dearly. He'd often thought of seeking the thief out, entertaining thoughts of vengeance. Now he would live out each of those fantasies. He would have simply killed Tareth then and there if he were a wiser man, or more versed in his opponent's past of unpredictability.
Tareth's right arm had been left free for the moment, it had been extended to hold the gun and not directly part of the chains' attack. He forsook his weapon, dropping the Walther to reach over to his left sleeve.
Were this less dire an occasion, he would have relished in the fact that his light saber fired instantaneously as he activated it. He'd been working for nearly a year to get it to operate reliably.
In an arc of light, he slashed the chains binding him. More chains and vampires assaulted him as he landed, yet between the saber and his fists he managed to clear a slight space around him. But he was fast waning, and his saber started flickering again. Several of Malachai's guards still stalked in the long, undulating chains, patiently awaiting the proper moment to strike.
Tareth was pissed. Leaping up, he seized one of the few remaining chains about him long enough to reach his position. Flicking open the access panel door on his saber, he jammed the last metal link into the energy crystal, let go and hit the deck.
The light was blinding, even on his tightly shut eyelids. All about him screams ripped the air accompanied by sizzles of flesh, the scent of burnt vampire crept strong into his nostrils. He could hear the saber above him sputter and whine as the high-power crystal discharged its massive electrical payload.
Finally things silenced, only the scraping of lazily swinging chains prevailed. Tareth picked up his Walther and got to his feet, peering about. On all sides, crispy corpses lay scattered. Malachai's form was equally black and papery-looking, his chair still slowly smoldering. His mouth was open in a silent cry, his pointy teeth yet gleaming, the bones of his arms still stuck to the chains they had grasped.
Turning from the grizzly, yet oddly heartlifting sight, Tareth tried to pull his saber from the end of the chain. It was futile, the metal had been fused into a nearly indistinguishable lump.
"Damn you Malachai." Pivoting, he fired a shot into the cadaver in the chair. Picking up his hat, he jammed it on his head and stuck his hands in his pocket, leaving through the same hole he'd come in by.
Even the sound of Malachai's corpse disintegrating in the last explosion didn't cheer him, the visit was altogether unsatisfying. He was no closer to the answers he sought, and the question was becoming even more disturbing than ever.
----------=Thorn=----------