Something Old Renewed

[H. A. Ferenczy]

In his manor, below a small city on the surface of Roon, Hannibal Antonio Ferenczy laid in his bed of red sheets and pillows. His servantwoman and companion of several years, Jalina, lay beside him, exhausted, due to the sex that they had just had. She was good, Hannibal thought to himself and smiled. This had been a good "day", for it was his birthday. Not of the day he was born from his mother's womb, but the day he felt the sting of the essence of the Vampire burn its way though him, changing him forever. It gave him so much more power, both physhically, mentally, socially, and combatively. Without the essence of his former master, Yanos Ferenczy, he couldn't have gotten this manor, or these few attendants who were loyal to him, or the lovely, and sexually-endowed woman beside him, or even the bed where he took her several times this very night, much like many nights before. He was an old thing of two hundred years, and yet he looked so young, so vibrant, and so attractive. Or at least, that's what the women told him.... He stretched his wearied limbs, and grinned a fanged smile. Life, or unlife, was good, oh so good....

He then heard something. It was far off, but getting closer. It was something he hadn't heard too often. Footsteps. Many footsteps, echoing off of the cavernous walls and into his sensitive ears. They weren't of his attendants, for all were here in the manor. None had left. Hannibal was certain of that. He got up, grabbing his clothing and dressing himself, he looked out the window. As he watched, a mob began to move around his manor. And it was a human mob. His eyes widened in suprise. How did they find the entrance to the caverns. It was practically unspanable by the humans, and yet here they were, and in so many numbers. The scene was a sea of bodies, all equipped with a pick, or an axe, or a torch. Some carried huge sacks, heavy with something unknown to him. And this scared him. Hannibal wasn't prepared for something like this. Sure he could beat them, for they were only human, and he was a powerful Vampire Lord. But they were too numerous to fight on his own, and even with all the attendants of his house, he couldn't stave them off, or at least not for long. But he was angered. He would stay and fight a few. But as they got close, the sack-bearers unleashed their burden. It was parts....but for what? Hannibal, speaking to each one of his attendants via the Force, ordered them to arm themselves and guard all strategic entrances. They obeyed, grabbing weapons on their sides or nearby them. The only one who did not stir was Jalina. He would let her sleep. In her weakened state, she could do nothing. But then she began to stir on her own. She sat up, not bothering to cover her breasts. She spoke.

Jalina: "What's wrong, my darling?"

Hannibal: "Nothing dear. Just stay where you are."

A thought entered Jalina's mind, and Hannibal, sensitive to her thoughts and in tune with her, heard it clear as day. She knew of the mob! And more importantly, that she had lead them! She had felt guilt that she had lead them here, to kill her lover of so many years, but he was a Vampire, and must die. He looked at her, mouth gaping, fangs exposed, in obvious shock. He then shook his head and spoke in a calm manner.

Hannibal: "Why Jalina? Why? Why did you betray me so? I gave you love. A job. A nice home. And I gave you such pleasure. It's because I'm a Vampire, but wasn't I always good to you? I loved you, I honestly did."

Jalina said nothing, only felt the fear inside. Fear for her father, who was in the mob. And Hannibal knew it. Her father was the leader of the Red Faction, the group that were rising against the vampires, and winning. Several Lords had fallen to the many hands of the Red Faction. And as he looked out the window and put the image in Jalina's head with the man in front. He was there. Angered, but calm, he walked over to her, eyes burning. He picked her up, and carried her to the window. Kissing her one last time, he spoke.

Hannibal: "You'll not carry the shame that a Vampire f*** you, as if you were his whore....You're too good for that. I'll always love you my angel."

His mouth opened, and he bit her. He began to drain the blood from her, watching her skin grow palid. Her father looked up, and saw his daughter, bleeding down her naked front, with a Vampire sucking on her neck, and yelled a bloody rage. Done with his feeding, he pushed her through the open window. He whispered something as she fell.

"Fly, my angel. Fly..."

A single tear dropped from his eyes, and he turned and left. He didn't even hear the body hit the ground with a thud. He didn't even hear the cry of the father, as in rage, desparation, and sadness he ordered the crowd to fire. Several bolts of flaming arrows and charring debris blew through the walls of the manor. As he walked away slowly, a single arrow hit him, and caught fire to him. He pulled it out, and the tip exploded into flame, burning him. He screamed in agony, for it burned his back. He dropped to the floor to roll, and the flames only roared. He got up, and ran. He leaped out of an open window, and let himself fall. He didn't hit ground, but the waters of an underground river nearby. By then, his body was charred badly. And to make matters worse, someone shot debris at the cavern roof, blowing a hole in it. The sunlight, the strong yet early rays of it, shot into the water. Reflected by it, it burned him more. The pain! It was too much to bear! Hannibal succumbed to it, blacking out.

Much later, Hannibal was still unconcious, and was a charred and dried "corpse." But the undead spirit still stirred in it. He felt himself being picked up out of the water. He couldn't regain consiousness, was too badly injured. It would take maybe years to repair himself. All he knew was that these people, whoever picked him out of the water, found a box and put him in it. Hannibal could hear the box being nailed shut and bolted, and chained, but could do nothing to react to it. He would have to sit in here, in a coma-like stasis until he would get the chance to heal.

Over the many years, he didn't repair, and couldn't for he didn't get any blood. He just remained a dried husk, and should've been dead by human and Vampire standards of the word, but wasn't. For he, using the Force, had put himself into a stasis, of which he would come out of when the time was right. He would save his strenght for the day that he would need it.....

A Few Hundred Years Later.............

In a small, secluded spot just outside of a small town on the planet Roon, men were digging. They were gravediggers, digging a grave for a funeral being held tomorrow. It was a tough job, but someone had to do it. As they were further and further in the hole, they struck something. It was hard, like wood. Thinking it to be treasure, they got a crane and had it hoist the trunk out. They, rambling thought their tools, found two crowbars and began to pry it open. The lid came loose, and to their dismay, and horror as they lifted the lid, there was a corpse in there. It was old, by the look of the clothes and the mold that had accumulated on them. Thinking of money, this "mummified" body would sell well to a local large museum. After contacting them, they would have some scientists come out and date it. They were told to keep it stored so that the sun couldn't hit it for it would ruin the bacteria keeping the corpse preserved.

All the while, Hannibal remained dormant, waiting to act.

As the scientists arrived several hours later at night, with lots of items for information, they began to study the corpse. It was wet, probably with a water line leakage. It was too common here. As one scientist propped his arms in to get a better look at it, he cut himself. He gave the common "ow" before bandaging it up quickly. As he was wrapping, a single drop of blood landed on the lips of the "mummy." And like a sponge, the blood was absorbed. Noticing this, the scientist leaned in, trying to say something like "That's not normal for a mummy," but couldn't get the words out for the mummy sprang to life, gripping the man by the throat. He then leaned forward, and bit the neck, the other scientists, seeing this, screamed and ran. After less than ten seconds the body of the captured scientist was flung aside, all dried of any blood. The mummy stood up, and ran impossibly fast after one of the other two remaining scientists. He picked him up and bit him, sucking on him while the other scientist was running. He dropped the soon dried corpse in a few strides, and leaped. Sailing through the air, he landed in front of the remaining scientists, biting him with a vengance for making him run. He sucked hard on the blood, and was done in no time. He dropped the scientists, and stretched his old, watery bones. He could feel the flesh on him beginning to fill with blood, refreshing itself. By the time he was finished, he was fully human. He was tall, about six foot something. Tall, dark-haired, and handsome. Or at least the ladies from long ago told him so....

Grinning, he grabs the other two corpses and drags them to the open casket. Taking a broken board of wood, he slams it against the heads of all three, cracking and opening their skulls. Taking the exposed brains, he bites into it, sucking the juices from them, much like one would a lemon. As one shrivelled, Hannibal moved to another brain, and then another. Once done, he threw the drained brains aside. He then felt his head begin to hurt. Everything in the brains of the three began to enter and imbed itself into his head. He now knew the language, and was ready to hunt......

Laughing wickedly, he ran, bounding over buildings in search of a good feast.....

[Whisper]

{Days later}


Walking the streets alone, Whisper finds herself in a small town that is completely foreign to her. A nasty looking bump situated above her right eye, tucked up against the hairline, throbs and aches something fierce. She has no idea how she got here, where she is from, or what happened to cause such an injury. All she knows is her name and that she is simply ....


Lost.


Peering into an alleyway, she contemplates if she really should walk down it. Its' dark and riddled with even darker shadows, a bit ominous looking as well as foreboding. However, at the end of that alleyway, she can make out a few patrons exiting an establishment of some sorts; what it was, she couldn't tell from this distance. Besides, it hurts her head to squint or attempt to think too hard.

A look is given to her right, left and once behind her; a chill races up her spine yet no one is there. Odd; she thinks to herself. She has this feeling of being watched. Shrugging it off as jangled nerves, she begins down the alley at a slow and cautious pace until she feels more comfortable since nothing's jumped out and scared her.

"Rawwwrrllllll"

"AH!" She screams as a cat jumps off a wooden crate and scuttles across her path. So much for not being so jumpy. Once she is able to catch her breath, she draws in a deep one and shakes her head a bit, chuckling nervously.

"Stupid cat, scared the life out of me." She whispers more to herself and the surrouding darkness. The cat was heard hissing once or twice before the silence returns and she continues making her way down the long, narrow alley.

Once the end is reached, she sees the establishment is some sort of Inn or Tavern. Well, she has no money but it couldn't hurt to simply step in and warm up a bit. Maybe, just maybe, she would see something that brings a spark of recognition to her lost memory; however, that is grasping at straws at this point.

A slender, delicate hand reaches to the door when suddenly its jerk back on its hinges, the outline of a huge burly looking drunkened man is seen as the lighting from inside radiates outwards from behind him. She jumps and gasps, taking a few steps back as the bellowing laughter of the drunk is heard echoing around the tavern and out into the streets.

"Hey man, take it easy. Don't wanna frighten the lovely lady too badly now, do ya?" , one of the customers calls out, raising his voice slightly to the drunk as he comes up behind Whisper.

"Not to worry miss, he's harmless. Just a drunk teddy bear, is all. Heading in?" He asks of her while motioning to the door he now holds open for her.

She gives him a wane smile and nods, looking to the drunk once more and she scoots into the tavern. It was a tight squeeze and the odor given off by the drunk was nauseating. She had to bring a hand up to cover her mouth to hold back the gag reflex from kicking in.

Moving away from the drunk, the smells of good food, fine spirits and not so fine liquors mixed with the hazy smoke lingering in the air. Yes, the place was a dive; but it was warm in here. Whisper just keeps to herself, tucking herself into a vacant booth located close to the exit and situated in front of the window.

"What can I getcha' to drink, honey?" [i]A waitress asks while smacking her gum in an annoying fashion. Whisper just looks up to the scantilly clad woman and shakes her head, indicating that she wouldn't be ordering anything. The waitress just snags the menu off the table and rolls her eyes before walking away; her hips nearly popping out of joint with the quick snap of each from those 3+ inch high heels she's wearing.

'Atleast she has shoes' .. she thinks to herself. Whisper's bare feet were cold and her toes were numb; her clothes had been ripped and torn to shreds. About the only thing that she has to cover up with is a long blue and gold cloak; the gown beneath is pretty much useless.

'Just long enough to warm up' she tells herself silently. That was all she needed. Where she'd go and what she'd do after this -- she has no idea.

Noticing a local paper on the table across from hers, she slides over and reaches for it, slender fingers creeping it closer til she can grasp the edge and bring it over to her table.

There wasn't anything all that interesting to be read. Other than some article about an old coffin that was discovered while some men were digging a new one for a funeral set to take place in the next day.

And so, there she sits, reading over the paper while she warms up; young, naive and oblivious to the fact that those creatures in the night that bite the necks of others and drain its victims of their lifes blood do, in fact ...


Exist.

[H. A. Ferenczy]

Hannibal landed softly on a rooftop, just outside of a small tavern. Imbued with and using the knowledge of the scientists who he "borrowed" the information from, he knew that this was just a local tavern, and nothing more. A good place for him to have a drink......

He watched, with bloodlust, as a woman walked past, jumping at the spring of a cat. It was hysterical to him, but he was too fixated to even worry about the cat. Besides, it didn't have enough blood to do anything for him. Now that young woman was a different story entirely. Even after all those years of being locked away in that accursed box, his "lust", not for blood but for womanly flesh, was still strong. He could have her and drink as well. It's a shame she would die if he did such. Perhaps he shouldn't go for her. After all, why should he now? It'd be such a waste of good, womanly flesh.....

His eyes, catlike, averted then to the big, stumbling drunk who startled her. He would make a fine meal, for someone bigger always had more blood....

As she went inside and the door shut behind her, he landed and followed the drunk slowly, not wanting to startle him. As he was behind the drunk, he tapped him on the shoulder. The drunk slowly turned, and suddenly, Hannibal sprang, biting him fully in the jugular, and with such force and suction that no blood spilled on the drunk. All of it was being sucked into Hannibal. He revelled in the spray as it shot in his mouth. Once done, he stripped the drunk of his clothing, because one wouldn't walk in a bar dressed in really old and moldy clothes. It just wasn't proper. But then again, neither was the clothing that the drunk had on. Hannibal, a bit sated and able to think a little more, realized that he should've taken the clothing from a scientist. But no matter. It wasn't the clothes that made the Vampire....

He slowly, confindently walked into the tavern, sitting at the bar. Normally, he would've said "Barman, get me a drink," but this was modern times, or so said the fluids now pulsing in Hannibal's brain that wasn't too long ago in the brains of the three scientists. He spoke, with an accent that his native tongue couldn't quite get rid of.

"Give me your finest wine."

The barman, or bartender, spoke.

"Do ya have any credits?"

Reaching in the pockets, Hannibal found a few but not enough for what he wanted. So he simply changed his order.

"I'll have a beer instead."

[Whisper]

It's his accent that draws her attention from the local news story she was reading to pass the time. Her toes were no longer numb, but they were still red and tingling badly. Feeling self-concious, she draws her bare feet under the seat and crosses them at the ankles; not that anyone would really be looking under the table, but you never knew what others noticed while just looking around from a certain vantage point.

Clearly she needed to bathe too. Dried blood dotted her cheek from the wound on her forehead and whatever tragedy she'd just been through a few days prior, needless to say it left what remained of her attire scuffed and soiled.

Though he probably wasn't looking in her direction, she smiled a little anyways. There was something about his voice ....

Unable to quite put her finger on it, though she is sure she's heard that accent somewhere before, she pushes the sense of deja vu aside and moves her attention to the waitress; who leaves a glass of water for Whisper on the table.


"Thank you..."[i]

She whispers. Ironically, its her voice that has given the girl her name. Due to an accident as a wee young lass, she is unable to speak above the sound of a whisper. Her mother tried her best to get her the medical attention she needed, but ....

She cants her head gently, creasing her brows a slight, wondering how she knew that a split second after the thought. Just another puzzle piece to fit into place of the jumbled mess of her life's history.

Curling long and slender fingers around the water glass, she lifts it slowly and presses the rim against her lower lip, drawing a long sip of the cold, clear fluid. The tip of her tongue traces along her lower lip lightly, sweeping up any small droplets of water left from the glass; then as she returns the glass to the table, she returns to skimming over the news.

[H. A. Ferenczy]

His ears, highly sensitive, caught the voice. It was a nice voice, not too loud. It had a sweet tone to it. Hannibal turned his head slightly, so as to not look directly in the direction of it. He saw who it belonged to. The girl who ran into the drunk.... She was beautiful. A dirt-covered rose among a yard of trash.... It was chilly outside and she was....barefoot. He had noticed earlier. It's a wonder she wasn't getting sick. As his beer came, he got up and walked over to her table. He then spoke.

"May I accompany you?"

[Vampyre Dalamar]

Dalamar sat in his study reading the "The Chronicle's of the Slithe" when suddenly he felt a presence. Jerking from his chair he focused with the force immediately. "Blood calls to blood" he heard Memnoch say the shadow guardian also felt the presence of another. Someone has awakened there pain and thirst calls out. They are .... There the Warlord pointed to the South wall some bond had been established. Dalamar knew that he could find him even if he where blind.

I must inform Alana the Mother must know of this. The Dark Lord tied his weapon's to his back. Walking thru the Shrine he spoke to Memnoch "I hope its not like last time we had to kill the poor bastich he was in the ground for to long. He was unhinged attacking even his fellow vampyre's. Me and Alana had to put him out of his misery. I'll never forget that man his emaciated form screaming curses and obscenities even after I cut off his head."

[Whisper]

She was becoming ill; she just didn't realize it quite yet. The tip of her nose was still red as indicative of an oncoming flu or cold. From the corner of her eye she notices the new comer to the tavern slide off the barstool, yet she pays him no mind. Until he speaks to her.

Slowly, she lifts her eyes from the paper and meets his gaze, a soft smile parts her lips that appear to be dusted with a burgundy rose color. While nodding, she motions to the seat across from her, "You may." Her melodic voice whispers to him.

If she had been paying any attention earlier, she would have noticed that he was wearing the clothes of the burly drunkard whom startled her at the door upon her own entry; however, she was more concerned with just getting inside to warm up than with anything else.

"Tis a bit chilly this evening." [i] She comments quietly. Had she spoken a bit of an 'old' tongue? No one these days uses the word 'tis'. A chill runs up her spine from the draft created when the door opens as some patron departs, causing her to rub her arms a few times to bring back some warmth to them.

His voice ... there is something about his voice ....

[H. A. Ferenczy]

Hannibal's eyes catch the goosebumps as they form on her arms and exposed skin. He really didn't need the extra jacket that he had, so he shed it off and draped it around her shoulder.

"Yes it is. And I am sorry if it smells awful, for I had to "borrow" that jacket and these clothes...."

He tugged at the bagginess of the clothing.

"I'm a bit poor myself."

Out of the corner of his eye, a healthy man stumbled drunkenly to the bathroom. An opportune moment for him to feed. Besides, it would keep him from eating this one......he really didn't want to and had no clue as to how long he could fight the thirst before he ripped her apart. He better get to that bag of blood.

"Pardon me, I'll be right back."

Taking long, strong strides, he enters the bathroom. He looks at the back of the man as he is stooped over, holding the side of the wall to keep him upright as he urinates. Hannibal waits till he finishes, by the signification of the zipper, before he grabs and snaps his neck. He then drags the body into a stall with a door. Closing it an locking it, he clamps onto the neck of the man. After several minutes, he is finished, and goes through the belongings of the man. He takes the mans gloves and boot, for they were intact and didn't have any blood on them, a hankerchief, and his wallet, stuffed with credits. This man was pretty well off. Hannibal considered taking the information from him as well, but thought it would be too risky. He also found some mints, which he popped in his mouth. The effervescent taste shocked him, although he knew it would. It made him feel good and his breath taste and feel fresh. Shoving the package in his pockets, he walks out, carrying the boots at his side. Because he's dressed like everyone else, no one notices him. As he sits at the table, he slides the gloves across the table, and the boots underneath the table.

"Figured you'd need these....."

[Whisper]

She blushes a bit when he drapes the jacket around her shoulders, slender fingers tug it a bit more firmly around herself as she gives a light shake of her head, to toss a few strands of her unruly flax-golden locks off her cheek and forehead.

"Thank you."

She whispers to him; of course. Her blush deepens a bit when he motions to the baggy attire draped over his body as well, shrugging a little when he mentions being poor. At this moment, even a wayward bum would hold more in his possession as assets than she does. Wealth never meant much to her. She was just one of those rare few who liked people for who they were; she was too kind for her own good and many had told her that in the past.


"Alright."

Watching him as he walks away until he is out of her range of sight, she sweeps a glance around the tavern as she begins to feel herself warming up once again. There was a young man, standing at one of the round tables across the room, holding his beer mug high into the air. Jovial laughter and a few claps on the shoulders were passed around as someone toasted the one standing. From what she could hear, he would be wed by the morrow's setting sun and she had to smile a little, seeing the sparkle in his eyes and the smile upon his face.

Across the way from the table was a scantilly clad woman; obviously one of the whores who 'conducted business' here. She quickly looks away from the whore as she was sliding her hand along the inside upper thigh of some space pirate who had to be too drunk to realize he had just been pick-pocketed.

When her company returns, she greets him with a small smile once again then looks to the gloves he pushes towards her. Her smile fades a bit as she reaches up cautiously and pulls them down into her lap. A look under the table and she sees the boots as well, then she looks back to him; unsure what to say, so she only states....


"Thank you again, kind Sir."

[H. A. Ferenczy]

"You are welcome, milady. Any man would do such a thing for such a fine example of a woman...."

Reaching for her gloved hand, he pulled it close, kissing it lightly.

"I am H. A. Ferenczy. And you are?"

[Whisper]

"Whisper, and I'm pleased to meet you."

Her voice is like the whispers barely heard upon the wind as it sweeps over the fields, unspoken promises still to be fulfilled by some long lost lover whose been searching from one end of the galaxy to the other for the place where she just might finally belong.

His kiss to her hand sends a quiver racing through her body which is only evident by the quick shudder of her shoulders; but only once.

The over-sized gloves and even bigger boots now covering her small bare feet would look rather comical if worn by someone else; yet somehow, she makes it look rather endearing.

"May I ask, from where you come from?"

He's already intrigued her. First drawn by his voice and now his mannerisms that speak of an age that has long been forgotten by most in the universe; the days of chivalry --when men were gentleman and women were ladies; brought up properly and taught how to be refined and demure. An era which still seems dreamily romantic to a few who satiate their dreams by reading those steamy romance novels and allow themselves to be swept away in all of the over-glorified love making contained deep within the pages.

Her gloved hand is drawn back and brought up to cover her nose and mouth as she sneezes; all that is heard is a muffled 'kachoo'.

"Excuse me."

Even while sitting there, looking across the table to Freneczy, she finds her mind filling with many more questions that she hopes to find the time to ask.

[H. A. Ferenczy]

"Oh, bless you. And I take it that your name comes from your voice?"

He smiled, wondering if she saw his sharpened incizors and canines, as he handed her the hankerchief.

"Oh, I come from a small planet on the outer rim. It's a bit backward and old-fashioned, but a very nice place and my home. It's nowhere near as advanced as some of the planets I've seen.....or heard of."

He hoped that she didn't notice his error. With the "borrowing" of the information from the scientists, also came their memories and experiences. It was somewhat troubling to Hannibal, getting the memories out of his brain, but once it was done it wouldn't cause too much trouble. But he'd have to focus on it, and now, in the middle of a conversation with such an amazing woman, wasn't the best of times to do so. So he left it be for the moment. But as he scanned through the information held in his head, he noticed three numbers and passwords. And immediately, he knew what it was. Bank codes and passwords. And from the memories of the three, they were fairly rich, being three of the best scientists/historians that the planet had to offer, of course they were going to be relatively wealthy. And if one combined the wealth of the three.... Hannibal had an idea.

"Let us leave this place, and go someplace better.....what would you say to that, my dear?"

[Whisper]

"I'd have to say that sounds rather splendid."

Sliding out from behind the table, Whisper bestows a slight smile to the man as they head out. She purposely didn't answer his question while inside, she just didn't want others to overhear her words. No secret, just something she tends to keep to herself.

"Now that we're outside; yes, my name of Whisper is actually a nickname I've had since childhood."

How did she remember that? Maybe her memories were beginning to come back to her as the swelling slowly lowered. Must have had an accident; that's the only thing she can think of that would cause the bump and the temporary memory loss.

"I do not remember too much, but I do know that whatever it was that happened back then had crushed my vocal muscles. They never did heal properly and so I can only speak as loud as a whisper."

She had noticed his pointed teeth inside, but his smile captivated her, so she really didn't pay them mind. Besides, there were numerous creatures in the universe that had fangs; why would she ever dare think that there were actually vampires that do exist?

Those oversized boots scuff along the permacrete surface with each step she takes and there are a few times when she actually steps out of the boot, only needing to pause in their walk to slip her foot back inside. Each time this happens, she glances over towards Freneczy with an embarassed blush coloring her cheeks; a light chuckle escapes those dusty rose lips of hers a few times as well.

"How did you end up so far from your home?"[i]

Funny. She has the feeling she's a good distance from her own; she just doesnt' quite remember that part just yet.

[H. A. Ferenczy]

"Well, I really didn't. I was born here, just a long time ago."

Hannibal felt he should be honest with her. Why? He knew not, but it just felt right to do so. And noticing her blushing, she was truly beautiful. A slight wind blew, tossing her hair about, and he had to do something. He knelt, and tightened the laces on the boots. As he finished, he rose slowly, taking her in a warm and strong imbrace, kissing her hard on the lips.

"You're stunning..."

[Whisper]

Walking along at his pace, she fingers a few stray strands of hair from her cheek when the wind whips it across, nodding as he answers her question. She was about to ask another when all of sudden he's kneeling before her and fixing the boots; hopefully they'll stay on a bit better now. Its his last action that utterly stuns her into total silence.

Before she even realizes it, he's kissing her full and hard on the lips! Odd as this may seen, she's never been kissed before; and never so passionately. His kiss sends an electric tingle coursing through her body; and just as quickly as it had begun -- it was over.

His words make her blush and she chuckles from nervousness, while whispering in return.

"I'm speechless..."


The pale moon overhead was darkened out by the storm clouds sweeping across the midnight sky. She couldn't contain it any longer, and soon enough a radiant smile spreads her crimson lips, lighting up her eyes.

[Vampyre Dalamar]

Dalamar dropped off the second balcony and down into the garden. Alana was at the edge of the garden Maze, flower petals in her hand. "Alana we have another wilder, gear up my love, I think this one is going to be harder than the last one."

Alana smiled a grim smile "I hope so." Dalamar was slightly troubled. Lately Alana's melancholy had been getting worse it made Dalamar nervous and scared for her. He could only be there for her like she had been there for him. "Let's go" she said. The Warlord could only follow her not wanting to interrupt her thoughts. She threw her cloak on and the hunt began.

[H. A. Ferenczy]

"Come, let's go somewhere. But first, I have to make a stop at the bank."

Hannibal turns and walks, holding her hand as he did so. After walking only a few blocks, he found a teller. He walked up to it, and was amazed! He had never seen something like that ever in his life! But he hid his suprise and wonder, and walked up to it. He punched in the name numbers and then the passwords, removing all the money from the account to a card that would go in his pocket. All of the money was then put into one account, which wasn't hard to do for it asked him that as he punched in the numbers. After the little learning session with the teller machine was finished, he spoke to Whisper.

"There is a little shop I know that sells fine clothing. Let us go there and pick up some decent garments."

He started walking again, with Whisper in tow. He turned to her as he walked and spoke.

"You look so incredible when you blush....and I take it that was your first kiss?"

He smiled at her fondly. Things were turning out better already.

[Whisper]

While he's busy with the automated banking system, she gives him his privacy by standing a few feet off to his left, just looking around. Some of the landmarks seem familiar to her, but she can't quite place where she is. This unnerves her a bit, but she doesn't give that fact away.

When Hannibal takes her hand, she looks at the way his hand seems to engulf hers; his grip firm yet gentle at the same time. She hasn't spoken of this, but she notices the dirt embedded beneath his fingernails. Didn't really matter to her as she recalls he mentioned he was poor. But... how will he be able to afford such fine garments if he's poor?

Without question, she simply follows along, hand in hand and in his wake. She had been looking back over her shoulder when he begins to speak again; and honestly, he startled her a bit. Snapping her attention around to meet his gaze, he makes her blush deeply once again.

"Aye, it was. I know it wasn't very good from me."[i] His smile warms her chilled body all the way down to her very bones. His kiss was incredible! Just as she had always imagined a first kiss would be. His presence is enigmatic, his demeanor and attitude is commanding of several things -- respect, honesty, power ...

Entering one of the shops with him, she's stopped in her tracks at the sight of such fine clothes. One maniquinn sports a beautiful gown of midnight blue with hints of gold along the lower hem; another sports a classy yet comfortable looking outfit composed of black leggings with an oversized grey and black tunic-style sweater; calf high black boots and a loose-fitting belt of silver rings was draped around the dummy's waist.

[H. A. Ferenczy]

"Which one would you like?"

Hannibal held his open hand to the two different outfits that she was fixated on. He wondered which she liked...

[Whisper]

Those piercing eyes of hers widen as she looks to him, her lips parting gently as she forgets to breathe for a breath or two.

"Seriously?"

The look on his face was definitely serious.

"Hm. I like them both but the pants and sweater are more practical. But, I cannot afford such nice things."

That dark blush was faded now, but it was still there. Embarassed a little, that she can't afford to even feed herself a piece of bread, let alone buy herself new clothes.

"I can't let you buy me anything. If you have any money at all, you should get yourself something and save the rest for a rainy day. "

[H. A. Ferenczy]

He walks into the store holding her hand.

"That is an excellent choice. You'd look great in such nice, black garments."

He did like practicality as much as finery, and if one could have both in just one single garment, that was all the better. And speaking of which....

And would you like a coat to go with it? It is a bit cold outside.

[Whisper]

A slender finger follows the curvature of her ear as she tucks her unruly locks behind it, nodding her head once to Hannibal.

"But, what of you? You'll need some new attire as well and.. well, I have no money to pay you back."

Hannibal seems to shrug that off as one of the storekeepers walks over and removes the outfit from the dummy and hands it to Whisper, then she's escorted to the changing room.

Once inside, she looks at her reflection in the mirror. A few smudges of dirt and dried blood grace her cheeks and she sighs. "Such a mess..." she whispers to herself while gently licking the back of her thumb to clean off her face as best as she can. Seems she's gotten most of it off, though a couple of smudges only smudged further.

Removing what was left of the gown she was wearing, she notices several scratches along her shoulders, arms and deep bruising around her wrists. Upturned palms slowly raise as she examines the bruising closer.

"My Gods ... what happened?"

Curling the fingers of her right hand around her left wrist, she gasps sharply with the pain that comes from such bruising, forcing her to release her wrist. Scanning the image in the mirror, she turns and pulls her hair over her shoulder; her eyes widening at the deep scratches along her back. Those were apparently healing as the blood had dried long ago, leaving thick scabs in its place. Canting her head a bit, the first thought that comes to her mind is that the markings upon her body were indicative of being ...

"Dragged?"[i]

Raking her fingers back through her hair slowly while shaking her head in a negative manner, she tries to think of what happened; and fails to pull anything from her memory. With a deep sigh, she pulls the leggings on, then the sweatered tunic and finally the boots.

Turning once again to view herself in the mirror, she smiles a little at the transformation. From forelorn and frail looking to elegant and graceful with the simplicity of the attire. Pulling her long hair from beneath the sweater to let it cascade freely down her slender back, she smiles a little at what she sees in the mirror.

Grabbing her old clothes, she steps out of the changing room and looks around the shop for Hannibal.

[H. A. Ferenczy]

As Whisper turns a corner, she's shocked to see Hannibal already dressed in clothing: black leather boots, shiny and heavy; black trousers, no pleats, and long enough to cover the boot's tops but not drag the floor; a black leather belt with a black buckle; a black mock turtleneck with long sleaves; and he was all groomed, his hair now almost shining and running wavily down his neck and stoping about at the top of his shoulders. And even his nails, filled with dirt and blood, were clean. As she bumped into him, she probably would've fell, but he grabbed her to balance her. He then whispered in her ear.

"You look splendid....absolutely beautiful. I think your parents were angels, for you are one as well...."

[Whisper]

Turning a bit as she walks further into the shop, still looking for Hannibal, she ends up walking right into him. If he hadn't grabbed her, she would have fallen.

His warm breath against her fair skin sends goosebumps up her spine and brings a softened smile to her lips. As she turns her head to speak with him, her soft cheek brushes across his. Dusty rose lips part gently when she notices that his cheek is as cold as stone; but she doesn't comment on it. It was, after all, the start of the cold season and they were outside for a time before coming into the shop. Perfectly understandable reason for his face to be cold still.

Or is it? She's no longer cold and she was dressed far less than he was before they came inside.

"You look sinfully dashing, M'lord."[i]

Soul-stealing, vibrant blue eyes shift upwards and sidelong to meet his, and for the moment she must remind herself to simply breathe. Aside from his alluring, accented voice; he was quite handsome and his strength was another attractive strong-point to his overall demeanor. It was in the way he held her arm to keep her from falling that told her, as long as she maintains respect towards him, she'd never be hurt.

Their gaze lingers for a few passing minutes, then the store clerk interrupts the two by asking if he'd like to purchase the clothing and accessories.

Whisper clears her throat lightly then blushes gently as she looks from Hannibal to her fingers that fidget nervously with each other.

[H. A. Ferenczy]

Almost ignoring the clerk, he handed him the credits, never taking his eyes off of her. She truly was stunning in the dress. She made him feel all warm inside. In fact, he thought he could feel his skin starting to warm.... Which he remembered that he was cold, or his skin was. Cold as death. Hopefully she didn't notice but if she did, then it was fine anyhow. He kisses her lightly, almost teasingly, stroking at her soft cheeks.

"Thank you, milady. And you do not have to call me that. I'm no royal figure....just a simple man wanting a splendid night. And with you here, it has already become that and even more..."


They walked to the doorway of the store, and he realized he forgot a jacket. He told her to wait, and went to the back of the store, finding a jet black longcoat. He put it on him and paid for it quickly, before returning to her side. He held her hands, and walked out.

[Whisper]

Her thin fingers laced betwixt his as he takes her hand into his and leads her out of the shoppe. Thankfully, the new clothing and the hip length leather jacket kept her quite warm against the chilly wind that has kicked up; announcing the approach of a big storm coming in over the horizon. Her hair whips and dances around against her back and over her shoulders as she brings her other hand up to pull the jacket a bit more taut around her lithe form. She chuckles quietly when her stomach growls rather loudly, that blush creeps back into her rosied cheeks once again.

"I'm sorry. I've not had a bite to eat other than that piece of bread back in the tavern for the past..."

She pauses in her words to think back to just how long its been since she has truly eaten -- and she can't remember.

"Been a while, I suppose. I cannot remember when the last time was that I have eaten."

Hannibal looks to her, stopping their walk. Rubbing her arms, he smiles to her; his ivory fangs gleaming in the waning moonlight that is fading fast behind the ominous dark clouds rolling in. A flash of lightning off in the west lights up the midnight sky and the cracking of thunder shatters the silence, its rolling growl spans the darkened skies for miles.

"Then we shall have to find a place to eat."

He tells her simply, then he places a tender kiss to her forehead. Taking her hand again, he leads her off down the barren city streets and soon enough there's an all-nite diner just ahead.

The flashing neon sign was missing atleast two letters from the name of the place; its sputtering buzz grows a bit louder as they approach the door. Flashing neon pink in the dark of night was quite an eye-catcher, not too mention an eyeball burner as well since Whisper was forced to bring a hand up to shield her eyes when they passed beneath it and through the door.

Inside wasn't much to brag about. It was a dingy little place but the advertisement in the front window proclaims it serves the best burgers to be found on this side of the galactic belt. From behind the counter, a droid swivels its head around to the new comers and immediately sets out two glasses of water while the two take a seat on a stool.

"Welcome, what can I get for you tonight?" The mechanical voice was a bit grating on the nerves, but Whisper placed an order for a burger with everything on it, a side of fries and some exotic sounding drink. A few minutes later, its set before her and she looks to Hannibal...

"Aren't you having anything?"

[H. A. Ferenczy]

"Of course. I shall have a....."

Memories flooded him. He had been here before, although he had never really been in this diner. He remembered a huge slab of meat, looking like the rib meat of an animal that had been barbecued. And beside that was a huge pile of seasoned and thin-sliced potatoes, and beside that a large draught of beer..... He had never had anything like that in his life but yet is sounded so good to him. As he ordered the name rolled off of his tongue.

"I'll have a slab of prime ribs, the seasoned and zesty fries, and a beer."

The words weren't his, and it bewildered him. After all he never talked like that before. He usually talked with his "accent," which was unnoticable to him. And he spoke a proper form of the words. What he said while ordering a drink wasn't proper, and yet no one cared. So he let it go.

As the ordering drone slowly crawled away, Hannibal then realized that he had never seen anything like it before. It was totally new to him. It seemed alive: talking, walking, interacting with guests, and ordering. How could a piece of metal possibly do all that? This new world in which he awoke was not his, and was a strange yet wonderful thing. At least there were still humans, filled with the great, unlife-giving blood. He then turned his attention to his feminine, blue-eyed company.

"Tell me a little about yourself. I think that you have wonderful tales to tell."

[Alana Stormcloud]

Alana followed Dalamar's retreating form. Her ever changing eyes linger on the moon lit garden. She had found a moment of peace in its familiar maze. Her delicately shaped hand opened and released the crushed rose petals. It's sweet scent clung to the fold of her form fitting outfit. The night winds of Roon tousled her long hair, pulling it back from her ageless beauty.

Alana caught the stray thoughts of worry from Dalamar. She had been changing. The blood she had taken from the mother, was slowly filling her mind with all the memories of Ashiva. It had almost become to much to bear. Alana's eyes sparkled with excitement as she followed her lover. Though, now that she had taken the mothers blood, she could travel safely in the day. Alana still took comfort in the night.

Her long legs flashed in and out of the cloak as she ran. For a moment she felt herself once again. The Vampyre Lordess, who's beauty had captured the hearts of many men, let the night take her over. Her eye teeth elongated, piercing her full lower lip. A droplet of blood formed there. Her eyes flashed from blue to green. The hunt was on...

[Whisper]

Her finely tuned hearing detects the change in Hannibal's voice as well as the use of non-proper words, making her own piercing blue eyes shift rapidly to those of a wolf's golden glow then back. The change was so quick, it more than likely hadn't been noticed by anyone; Hannibal may have picked up on it though.

She smiles to him, moistening her lips lightly as she waits for Hannibal's attention to return to her after the droid leaves. Interesting tales to tell? Her? Perhaps. If she can remember any of her past, that is.

"Um."

A nervous habit of hers; to tuck her hair behind her ear takes place at this point. What does she tell him? Here's this wonderful stranger, treating her as if she were some sort of Princess to be put upon a pedestal and she has no idea of whom she is.

"I ah, I don't quite know what to say; you see..."


Delicate fingertips begin to fidget with one another and when she lifts her head to gaze upon Hannibal, she gives a slight toss of her head to sweep her hair from her forehead; which reveals that nasty bruised lump up along her hairline briefly.


"I ah, can't remember .. anything .. save for my name."


Gods! He must think I'm insane now. As if shamed by the fact she's lost her memory, those vibrant eyes of hers lower from his to gaze upon her hands once again.

[H. A. Ferenczy]

"Oh, I see...."

Noting the slight bruise on her forehead, he put two and two together. She must've bumped her head and lost her memory..... And then he saw the eyes. It seemed as if they glowed a feral yellow for one second, perhaps even an millisecond or nanosecond. Had he not the vampiric senses, he probably wouldn't've even noticed it. Although it was strange, and brought up several questions to his mind, it didn't unnerve him, not even in the least. He had seen and been a part of things much more strange and bizzare himself. She intrigued him, and he liked the mystery.

As he thought, he realized that she may've been faking it.....but the bruise was real, and probably proof enough. And by the reaction, the way she flipped her golden hair back behind her ear (which he inwardly smiled at, for it was very attracting) and how she fidgeted her hands and stared at them (also very alluring), she was obviously nervous. He narrowed, by these simple clues, his options down to two: either she actually did have amnesia, or either she simply didn't want him to know her past. But he still had respect for her, as he did all women, and kept the conversation going.

Delicately, he put his hands underneath her chin, and slowly brought her deep gaze up to his eyes, and kissed her lightly.

"It's ok... I understand."

As he held her there, he tried to read her mind, like he could in the past with his penetrating gaze. His eyes began to seemingly fill themselves with blood, making his pupils seem even darker. He noticed that her eyes slightly glazed over, and he was in....

All was dark. It was as if all light had suddenly gone out. He tried to read the darkness, to clear it, but it only changed color. From the puresest pitch, to the colors of purple and a strange blue.... the color of her bruise.....

He was immediately shunted out, and his vision returned to him. His blood-red eyes became normal, whitening and brightening back up into their usual self. He had failed miserably.....and probably because of the comatic state he had been in. If he got a little more blood, and perhaps a little more practice.....perhaps his powers would be restored... He noticed that her eyes began to unglaze. And as they did so, he kissed her again, to attempt to cover it up. She probably didn't notice it.....for she had been in a bit of a trance....

Unless she was stronger in will than he thought.....

"I'm sorry, I just keep getting lost in your eyes..."

[Whisper]

Oh his eyes! Magnificent orbs to simply lose oneself in. Little did she know that he was slowly hypnotizing her then suddenly there was darkness. Physically, she couldn't move, so she couldn't steady herself as she had begun to slouch forwards into Hannibal. He must have supported her as he tried to delve deep into her mind.

If she had a memory to call upon, he would have been able to slip in with ease; but she just couldn't recall anything. What had happened to her that was so tragic and fearful that her mind would block it out completely?

One emotion that Hannibal may have detected while attempting to read her mind was the deep rooted pain that remains buried deep within her heart.

Coming out of the trance like state, she blushes again, thinking that she spaced out on him.

"I ... "

She was about to apologize and beg his forgiveness for such rudeness on her part, then he kisses her gently again. That only rejuvenates a feeling of comfort and safety while in his presence.

"As I get lost in yours..."[i]

She whispers in return, bringing a hand up to caress his cheek with a feather-light from her fingertips before smiling softly to him and turning to look at her food.

[H. A. Ferenczy]

As the food and drink arrived for both of them, Hannibal took a taste of a french fry. The taste! It was just as he remembered it....but wait. He had never been here before. As he pondered it, he realized he was remembering the memories of one of the scientists. But the scientist was right: the food here was, indeed, excellent. He liked it, and gained flavorful satisfaction instead of sustenance from it. He ate a few fries, and then washed it down with a swallow of the beer. It was excellent as well. A brown, well-aged barley draught, and washed down the fries, leaving an excellent aftertaste. He then cut and took a bite of the prime rib, chewing it and swallowing it down. It had a sweet, mesquite taste, yet had a hint of zestiness to it. It was excellent. He spoke to her, when he didn't have food in his mouth.

"The food here is excellent! You should try it."

[Whisper]

Whisper watches Hannibal as he lifts the fry to his mouth; his movements seem so graceful and purposeful; like liquid smoke with a life of its own. She couldn't help but to smile, noticing the look of amazement in his eyes as if he were tasting food for the first time. What an alluring creature this one is, she thinks to herself.

Taking her burger into both small hands, she bites into it and of course, the catsup and mustard spurts out from the other side, to plop down onto her plate. Messy burgers are the best. She chuckles and sets the burger down, dabbing at the corners of her mouth delicately with the napkin.

"You're right, this is good, though it is getting late and I should look to see if there is somewhere I can find shelter to spend the night in before it gets any later."

[i]She takes a few more bites of the burger, eats a few fries and takes a sip of her drink before beginning to rise from the barstool.

[H. A. Ferenczy]

"Wait, I have some credits. Enough to get a hotel room. Would you like to stay in one for the night?"

He smiles at her, hoping she would say yes....

[Whisper]

Whisper smiles to Hannibal; his own smile is quite endearing and charming; contagious as well. She does have to admit that spending a night in a warm motel room under some warm blankets is far more appealing then curling up under some tree or under an overpass.

That blush returns as she nods to him gently.

"Could I?"

She asks of him, albeit a bit sheepishly.

"I promise to pay you back for everything as soon as I can find some employment; just be sure to let me know where to send the money to."[i]

And she means that. Whisper may have no memory of her past just yet, but she never lies; even it means she gets hurt from telling the truth or shunned.

'Shunned?' Her brows furrow deeply as the thought enters her mind, causing an ill feeling to settle deep into the pit of her stomach. A brief flash of a thrashing white wolf, covered in dirt, being dragged along the back of a ... of some sort of personal hovercraft crosses her mind; sending a shiver up her spine that forces her to rub her own fragile looking arms. Tilting her head slightly and closing her eyes, she hangs onto the image long enough to see this white wolf thrashing about wildly and howling out in mourning and pain. The scene ends with a human female left to die from exposure of the elements in a thick, dense forest of some locale she doesn't remember.

Trembling, she looks to Hannibal and cannot hide the horror she feels at the images she just saw. Turning, she grabs the coat off the back of the stool and races out to the empty streets where she ends up on her knees, vomiting her dinner out into the gutter.

[H. A. Ferenczy]

Hannibal watched as she hurried away. Why did she leave so quickly when she was so excited to go? People in this time were different.....different indeed.

Hannibal left the food, for while it was superb it gave no sustenance to him. He walked outside, the door falling shut behind him. The wind whips about, making his coat writhe and dance along the air. His hair tossing about, he follows his nose, finding her familiar scent...

He turned the corner to the alleyway and looked in the gutter tracks, to see Whisper throwing up, shaking as she did so. He, walking faster than any human could, was at her side in an instant, holding her, rubbing her back.

"Are you ok?"

[Whisper]

A few more dry heaves and then she was nodding her head a few times while the back of her hand swiped its way across her mouth. Great, here is this wonderful guy and she's kneeling on the cold permacrete, puking her dinner back up into the gutter.

"Y-yes."
She whispers, needing a moment before she gets back on her feet. Closing her eyes, she takes a few deep breaths and then flickers a sideglance towards Hannibal as she raises her hand to take his and stand up.

"I'm sorry."

Raking her trembling fingers back through her long flax-golden locks, she looks up to Hannibal. Her eyes say so much and reveal so much about her; if only one looked deep enough. After all, they say that the eyes are the windows to ones soul. If they have one ....

Fear, longing, hope and pain all radiate from those sharp, clear blue eyes of hers.

"Um, there were these ... how do you say..pictures? No, memories. Vivid memories that suddenly came back to me and..."

Drawing her jacket closer around herself, she offers a small smile and shrugs her left shoulder so subtly that the movement might not even be noticed.

"It's cold out here. May we find that motel you mentioned?"

[H. A. Ferenczy]

"No need for apologies. And yes, that sounds like a very good idea."

Hannibal liftered her up, holding her by his side. He took his hands off of her to take off his jacket and fling it around her shoulders. With one arm around her hips holding her close, he began to walk. Her warmth felt so good. He wished that he were that warm.... Armed with the memories of one particular scientist, he began to walk in the direction of a hotel. As they continued to walk Hannibal spoke.

"So, memories, you say? Well, what were they of?"

[Whisper]

A thankful smile is given to Hannibal as he drapes his coat over her shoulders.

"Ka-choo! Ka-choo!" A slight chuckle is given after she sneezes a couple of times, "Excuse me."

With his arm wrapped around her, holding her close to his side, she walks along in silence for a bit; wondering if those images were just memories of a twisted bad dream.

"I'm not sure what they were of, to be quite honest with you, Hannibal. But, they were sickening all the same."

Suddenly, she whips her head around to scan the scene behind them. Whatever it was, it wasn't too close just yet but her keen sense of hearing detected the sound from far off just the same. The breathing was rapid, deep. The softened sounds of the footing was sure and precise; if it weren't for the snap of a twig, the hunter now trailing them wouldn't have been heard just yet.

Looking ahead again, she continues with what she was saying.

"There was a magnificent white wolf. Thick winter fur all set in, a thick bushy tail and those eyes!"

Now she looks up to him, those eyes she mentions are hers; she just doesn't know it yet.

"I've never seen such intensity and ferocity in a set of eyes belonging to any creature before. Then her fur is dirtied; once white and pristine was now dingy and dark. That howl....it was mournful; as if she were longing for her mate and yet it was racked with copious amounts of pain.

She lifts her arms gently, the sleeves of her own jacket sliding upwards with the motion, now exposing those dark bruises around her wrists.

"Some kind of cording, or wire was wrapped around the wrists of her forepaws and she was being dragged...to her death."

Whisper's eyes brim with tears, the images playing slowly through her mind again as she tells the vision to Hannibal. Now at the motel, he leads her into the lobby, keeping her close in his embrace still while he gets the two a room.

Escorting her up the stairs to the third floor, then to their roomd. Once inside, he takes her to the living quarters and eases her down onto the loveseat.

"I know how that all sounded, but I assure you. I'm not crazy. I don't know why I'd even have such a memory."

[H. A. Ferenczy]

"I do not question your sanity.....for it seems stable enough. After all, we all go a little crazy at times...."

He cradled her gently, whispering in her ear.

"Everything will be fine.....no need to worry about the past..."

Not worry about the past indeed! For Hannibal, the past was all he had....save for Whisper, the other three minds trapped in his own, singular mind, and the vast and numerous amounts of credits. Other than these things, he was alone, all alone...

His entire life, save for tonight, was all about the past. For after all, that was where he was from: a world very different from the one in which he walked now.....and the only surviving vampire....

....or so he believed......

.....But as he sat there, cradling Whisper, he felt something.....strange. A feeling he hadn't felt in quite some time.....something was coming....but what? As it got closer and closer, he could sense it.....it was......

.....a Vampire?!

[Whisper]

Admittantly, it was nice to be coddled by Hannibal. She misses moments such as these. A blinding flash makes her bring a hand to her forehead, pressing the flat of her palm against the brows as she doubles over in pain.

Falling off the couch to the floor, the fragile looking woman writhes in sheer agony, thrashing around as if she were being ripped apart from the inside out.

"Nooooooooooo!"
[I]
Gods! NO! Not now! She can't let him see this happening. Only if she had paid closer attention to the moon's cycle! Mustering up her strength to fight the inevitable changes taking place at the moment, she drags herself across the floor and towards the half-open door leading into the bedroom.

[H. A. Ferenczy]

Hannibal, seeing this, did not lose his sensibility. He had seen things much worse than this, and it didn't frighten him. In fact, it intrigued him. He would try to intervene, either to help her go one way or the other, for it was apparent to him that she was transforming, but into what?

He knelt at her side, and gripped her chin, and looked into her beautiful eyes, trying hypnotism again, but in a different form, to coach her.

"Yes, you are changing. Let it go. Change. And do not worry, for I'll never harm you.... until you are strong enough to harm me.....and even then, if I can prevent you without killing you, I shall take that path...Now change. Show me the other side of yourself, the one that other people do not see when they look into those beautiful eyes and stare at your womanly curves. I only wish to see the other side of you. Please....show me...."

[Whisper]

[i]A cry was unleashed as Hannibal came closer; she didn't want him to see her in this state. Ashamed of what she becomes, at the hands of the ones who cursed her as a child, for what reason? She didn't know.

Punished to live forever while summoned to die for the crimes I have yet to accomplish. Someone once close to her had said that; if only he knew how true his words were now. Her flailing and writhing body begins to convert and contort into a new shape, her cries of pain break the silence of the night, and Hannibal's hand beneath her chin washes a sense of peace and calm throughout her misshapen form.

His trick was like none she has experienced before; atleast from what she can remember. ~Mindspeak?~ Her thoughts betray her, as the thought transfers back to Hannibal. No harm. Those are the words that she so desperately needed to hear.

The final throws of the change force her head to snap back sharply; canines extended and then her back arches upwards deeply. Once fair and delicate skin is now a gleaming white coat of fur. Her petite figure is now replaced by one of a sleek, powerfully muscled, agile one.

Slumping onto her stomach, her velvety soft muzzle droops low to settle over her left paw and her breathing is labored. Once pristine blue eyes are now a golden yellow, which close slowly. The shifting is quite painful, exhausting and it leaves her weary for a time.

********

After fifteen or so minutes of laying there in a weakend and vulnerable state, those golden eyes open slowly and roll upwards to gaze up to Hannibal; whom has diligently remained at her side.

~Why haven't you left?~

Amazed. She's never had someone stay before. Anyone who has witnessed this has always taken off screaming as if they'd just seen a ghost.


http://my.core.com/~ladyice/whisper/whisp2.jpg

[H. A. Ferenczy]

"Well, because it facinates me......."

Hannibal looked upon her in absolute awe. It was amazing.....the change was......horrifying....or at least to a human...but to him it seemed like.....art....How the muscles strung taut around her bones, and how they swelled with strength....and how her bones, in their brutal, crunching sounds shifting, reforming into the bones of a wolf......How her nose elongated, and her teeth sharpen, incizors becoming razors, molars becoming daggers, and bicusbids becoming blades....How her soft, curly, golden locks becames coarse, straight, white fur.....and how those beautiful blue eyes became a feral yellow....wow! He inwardly shuddered, not at fear, but for the beauty of it all.......it was incredible. He took his hand and petted her head, feeling the soft, smooth, white hair on the top. His fingernails scratched easily behind her ears.

"It is not frightening to me at all......for I am not what I seem......It's like art to me......one of the purest forms.....so amazing...I do not think I can do that now....but perhaps later.....How do you do that?"

[Whisper]

[i]~It's not something that I can control. It just happens upon the eve of the full moon each month. I don't want to be like this; I don't want to be some animal that preys on others in order to survive. I'm cursed and there's only one who can vanquish this horrendous fate forever from my soul.~

As Hannibal strokes her full, luxurious coat, she lays her head back down and closes her eyes. A deep sigh is exhaled as she flickers her long, bushy tail a few times in an agitated state.

A twitch of her ears then her head is raised once again, now standing on all fours with the shackles at the back of her neck raised. Growling low from deep within her chest which protrudes proudly, she shifts her golden gaze up to Hannibals.

~They're closer.~

Who was closer? She wasn't sure, but they were predators and they were coming this way.

[Vampyre Dalamar]

Dalamar and Alana landed lightly on the roof. "He was here there is still a resonance." Alana only nodded. The last few patron's where leaving the bar. Alana raised her head as if sensing something she pointed. "This way." Leaping down into the darkness they descended on a restaurant then a clothing store. Already the wilder had visited to many place's if he was infected his taint will have already begun. Dalamar and Alana where both intent on the hunt. Small clue's here and there and the ever present calling kept them on there trail. It was a calling of a wilder, a vampyre revived out of time. "Do you want to approach them or should I?" The dark lord shifted his weapon's while he waited for the pale beauty before him to answer.

[H. A. Ferenczy]

"Yes, they are coming closer..... it's best to meet them head on..... I shall return shortly...... Stay here."

Hannibal opened the door and stepped outside, closing the door behind him. Not feeling like wasting his time to take the stairs, he simply jumps from the balcony, landing hard on the concrete. He uncrouches and stands, straightening out his clothing. His joints popped and cracked as he stood. He twisted his neck slightly and clenched his fists and flexed, stretching himself out......it would be best to be ready to fight, if it was deemed neccessary. He spoke to himself, although it might have possibly been projected to his pursuers.

"Come and face me. I am ready."

[Alana Stormcloud]

Alana heard the rouge Vampyre's voice loud and clear. His mind was not corrupted like some of the others they had run into. The taint was not on him. A small smile tugged at the corners of her lips. Alana's eyes flashed between green and blue as she let the Shrine shadows gather around her. There comforting touch soothed her. They clung to the folds of her cloak like a child searching for a mothers approval.

"We mean no harm brother of the night. But we must be sure of your intentions and that you carry no taint on you."Her powerful voice entered his mind Via the force. She sent an image of herself. Her ageless beauty was almost painful to look on. "Come forward Vampyre and meet your family."

[Whisper]

[i]The mindspeak was heard by the white wolf that remains within the room, her powerful muscles still tense and taut with the urge to spring at the interlopers.

Staying her desire to attack the demons, the exchange of their thoughts strikes her as disbelief. ~Vampyre?~ she questions in her own mind, allowing the word to sink in slowly. ~Vampyre, family?~

Hanging her head low, her sleek and agile body turns, moving to the open window in the bedroom. With one final look over her shoulder, she leaps through the window and drops down to the ground below.

Silent as the night, her elongated shadow following every move, Whisper heads off towards the forest to await the break of dawn.

[Vampyre Dalamar]

Dalamar saw the small nod that Alana gave him still he would keep his weapon's ready. You never knew if the taint would take hold or not. It had been a long time since one had revived him self succesfully after being buried for so long. It gave the Dark Lord no pleasure to kill his own kind. Hopefully he had escaped the second death untainted. A figure started to appear out of the shadows Dalamar tensed ready for anything out of the ordinary. Sending a message the Shrine Lord gave a warning. "No quick movements until we can ascertain your fitness. Now walk forward and identify yourself!" The Vampyre was poised on a razor's edge waiting for the answer that would mean life or death this dark filled night.

[Whisper]

[i]Unease fills the white wolf's nerves, bringing her journey to the forest to an abrupt end. Lifting her muzzle, she sniffs at the air; the winds of change were upon them. Canting her head to the left slightly, her ears upright; a twitch comes to one, then another. The winds shift direction, bringing the scent of awaiting death to taunt her senses.

~I must go back~

Snapping her body around, she breaks into a solid, silent run; the thick pads of her paws ensure the silence in each long stride. Covering the distance in no time flat, her golden eyes settle upon the three now standing ahead of her. Though she was crouched low in the cover of the dark shadows, she assumes that the creatures of the night have already sensed her presence long before her return.

A commanding thought was given by the darker one to Hannibal; a demand that he shows himself. This was a cue for the wolf as well. Hannibal's been so good to her. He's treated her far better than she has been in a long time and she just couldn't abandon him now.

Still crouched low, she slinks from the shadows and rises slowly with each purposeful step taken forward. Black lips curl back into a feral sneer, exposing those inch to inch and a half long razor sharp canines meant for ripping apart flesh and meat with ease. Each muscle ripples through her shoulderblades, the hairs at the back of her neck rise on end, and she's ready to spring into an attack in the blink of an eye.

Though her attentions are focused on Dalamar, she keeps Alana's presence noted along with her position. Cunning, manipulative and sly, Whisper stops her advance within striking distance of Dalamar with a low growl rising from deep within her chest.

[H. A. Ferenczy]

Not heeding the words of the male figure, still in the darkness, Hannibal dashed quickly, stopping just short of them. He glared at them, and laughed.

"Perhaps you should use that to ascertain my health."

Hannibal chuckled at the seemingly young male. Such confidence....if a fight were to ensue, the Vampyre would be a bit hard-pressed, because while the Forcial skills had left him, his way-above-average fighting ability had not....... He chuckles a little more, ignoring the annoying buzz of the want to smack down the young male. He then turns to the female, who spoke rather kindly, and was quite beautiful........for a Vampyre...

"So you wish for me to join you? Well, I'm afraid I cannot without more knowledge of you and your..... "family."

Hannibal's eyes narrowed as he sensed Whisper, who had "left" awhile ago, return nearby. She was within five feet of the male Vampyre. Now that he was familiar with her and had used his hypnotism to help her earlier, he could probably now speak to her via the Force.....and probably in secret. He speaks:

~"Whisper, walk slowly to my side. Do not provoke an attack. There is no need to fight. Now come to me, darling."~

As Hannibal finishes the message, he hopes that she can hear it, but doesn't wait to find out. Popping his neck to mask the short and silent time as well as the narrowing of his eyes, Hannibal then focuses on both Vampyres, continuing to speak with them.

"I have a companion near you. She will not strike, but will simply come to my side. Do not harm her in any way, shape, or form, lest you wish to find your evicerated corpse baking in the sun.... It's not that I want to fight, for I do not, but to harm my companion in any way is to harm me....."

The acid-etched, hardened expression of his face turned into a smile. The smile, while it "lit up" his face, it made him look somewhat cruel and almost cocky.

".....now onto the learning process. And what better way to start than by introductions? I am Hannibal Antonio Ferenczy, and my companion is Whisper. And you are?"

[Alana Stormcloud]

Alana's cold eyes stared into the face of the rogue vampyre's. She smiled slightly at his bravado. He was older then she but he did not have the power that flooded her veins. The Mothers blood washed through her, straining to unleash itself on any around her. She also carried the blood of Master Saurron and that was more than enough to give her the power she craved.

Alana called on the darkside, called on the Mothers blood. She would let him feel the strength of the ones he faced. Dalamar to had the blood of the ancients flowing through him. As it gathered, the shadows around her grew. He could feel the darkside radiating off of her.


"I am Alana Stormcloud, and this is Dalamar. We have come to do you no harm unless we must. Where we come from is Roon the place that houses the First. If you wish to see just how you came to be Vampyre, then you will follow now. If you do not than you are on your own. To be hunted." Though her words were cold there was a gentleness to them as well. Alana cared about other Vampir, they were to small of a family to do other wise.

[Vampyre Dalamar]

Dalamar heard Alana speak, and it cooled his vampyre rage. She had always had that effect on him. The words of the newcomer had a way of repeating themselves over and over in his mind.

"Shape, or form, lest you wish to find your eviscerated corpse baking in the sun...."

"A wilder talking so foolishly surely the taint is upon him Alana. Doesn't he know who we are? Maybe his sense's are dulled by the long sleep. Look how he tries to distract us by talking to the Lupine clearly he does not know. Allow his distraction for now dear we will use this time to assess his sanity."

"Sir, we are part of the ruling council of the Shrine. I am Dalamar Lord of the Shrine, Keeper of the Dawn, Warlord of the Eye of the Dragon. We are fit to examine you. You will be examined for the taint, you will submit to the ruling of the council or you will be executed. This is not a threat, this is a fact. There is no Malice in our words this is merely a job that must be performed and you WILL SUBMIT!" Lastly no harm will come to you or your Lupine I am not her to throw out barbs our start a battle. But if you do not submit to an examination it will definitely come to that. We do not explain ourselves. We are not the sheep, we are the wolf. Have no doubt of this as much as you should respect me, Alana is the power here. I will follow her lead for cooler heads must prevail. As she will follow my lead when the time for talk is over.

[H. A. Ferenczy]

"I would give you respect, but you have not yet even shown me any, and therefore, I will not. I will not submit, but I will simply allow you to "examine" me, and I might as well join your little "family," for if things have not changed as much as when I was last awake, our "race" is few and far between. Is my assumption correct?"

Hannibal moved closer to the male.

"My, my, quite a temper you have there......such temper can get you killed amazingly quick........Now I suggest we find a neutral ground, for I don't want to dirty up my newly aquired clothing with your blood.....And your clothing should not be littered with mine....Now tell me, is this Roon still, or am I elsewhere? And have you ever heard of my name?"

[Whisper]

[i]Just as the white wolf was about to spring forth into an attack against the male creature of the night, she hears Hannibal's command. Growling low still, she holds her threatening golden gaze upon Dalamar a moment or two longer before strutting over to his side with her thickly furred chest jutted out in pride. A bit of an attitude this one has when she is in her other form; a far cry from the skittish female when human.

Brushing her side against Hannibal's leg, she listens to the exchange betwixt the trio, and when Hannibal moves a few paces closer to Dalamar, thus she does too. He called her his companion; which brought a soothing comfort to her restless nerves.

She covers her thoughts and fears when hearing him mention that he may join their family. She'll be left alone for sure, forgotten as she once was long ago. Still, she would remain by his side atleast until this lil meeting was over.

[Vampyre Dalamar]

You submit to be tested? That is all the submission I demand of you. Sliding his Katana back into it's scabbard fully the Dark Lord waited for Alana to test for the taint. "Back away Lupine this does not concern your race!" turning his attention back to H.A. things have indeed changed little. "While I don't think I have heard of you I do remember a man called Reaver Ferenzy. It was about 300 yrs ago. Are you and him the same?" The Warlord asked.

[H. A. Ferenczy]

"Well, Dalamar, we come as a package. She is my companion, and therefore, she is a concern to this."

Hannibal knelt and petted Whisper's head, scratching the back of her ears. It was quite comforting to him, and probably for her.

"Yes, that was one of my names when the Blood Wars occured. I was called that because of how I fought in battle. During that time, I killed my own "brother." He betrayed my sire and I, and had to be stopped....."

Hannibal, remembering that bloody battle, seems to look past both Vampyres in remembrance.

"He was a good man....."

Hannibal's mood changes.

"He had to die. For no one, not even another Ferenczy, betrays a Ferenczy."

As he spoke of betrayal, his thoughts drifted back to his lover and betrayer, Jalina. Such a heavenly creature, with her pale, lovely skin, and perfect curves....things could've been different....but one cannot change the past.... she was proof of what he did to traitors...... Then he remembered something way more recent. What Dalamar said about three hundred years before. If he was speaking of the Blood Battles, and they occured three hundred years ago, and he was attacked ten years after that, then he could determine his age.

"I was put into a stasis on my five hundred fiftyth birthday. If you had heard of Reaver around three hundred years ago, then that makes me.......around eight hundred and fifty years old...."

Hannibal then moves on to another point in their conversation.

"What exactly do you mean by, "tainted?""

[Whisper]

[i]Indeed, Hannibal's gentle stroking of her head and the scratching behind her ears was comforting to her; however her malicious glare at Dalamar didn't falter. Lupine!? Why, she'll show him just what a Lupine....

Hannibal's continued touch against her luxurious coat calms the restless creature.. to a point. One of her own fears subsides when she hears his words; they are companions and where one goes, the other is there as well.

Perhaps this time around would be different, eh? Mayhaps this time, she wouldn't be shunned and abandoned to fend for herself out in the world and the wild.

Maybe; there is ....

Hope.

[Vampyre Dalamar]

"Though I have no personal dislike of Lupine the Shrine will not be very accepting to a wolf in there prescence. Some Vampyre's view them as the enemy. I have no such problems though. As for the taint, When Vampyre's are buried in the ground for to long they can slowly go wrong. They become tainted, slightly crazy and in some case's fully gone. They kill any and everything also the bloodlust increases tenfold in them. Everyone that is turned by someone with the taint passes it on like a genetic disease. The Cancer spreads like wildfire because of the increased hunger. So when someone like yourself is regenerated THEY MUST be tested for the taint. If you test negative then we will be on our way with an invite to the Shrine made availaible to you. If you test positive..... Dalamar said no more but his hand rested on the hilt of his Katana and a grim look was on his face. Well let's just say I hope it does not come to that."

[H. A. Ferenczy]

"Oh, I see. Well, then I understand your attitude then. And I apologize if I showed no respect. My standard is that I show respect when shown it, and sometimes it has to start with me..."

Hannibal looked down to his "lupine" companion.

"And as for her, she isn't exactly "lupine." You'd have to ask her for the full story, for I really don't know it. Perhaps she could share it with all of us..."

Still kneeling, he spoke to Whisper.

"You wouldn't mind, would you?"

[Alana Stormcloud]

Alana had watched quietly as the Vampir exchanged words. She had paid careful attention to the Rogues actions and movements. She would have to delve slightly into his mind to be fully sure but he seemed without taint.

As for the Lupine she to like Dalamar had no qualms with them. Though some at the Shrine did. But if she came as a companion to Ferenczy, then she would be accepted no matter what. Alana moved closer to the rouge. Her ever changing eyes cold and self assured. "I need to see what lies behind those eyes of your's. I will go no further into your mind than I must." With that she ran her hands over his face. Her soft fingers, trailing across his skin. A soft chant, almost to low to hear fell from her crimson lips.

It took only moments before her eyes opened and she looked him in the eyes. Her smile formed and let her elongated eye teeth show through. "Such a mind. But clean of taint." Alana moved away from Ferenczy and nodded to Dalamar."He is fine."

Alana was curious about the Lupine, now that her task was done she bent down. Holding her hand out, palm down and her fingers curled. "I offer you nor your companion no harm. If you so wish it I welcome you both to the Shrine Of the Damned." Her voice was like the tinkling of gentle chimes as she spoke to the Lupine.

[Whisper]

[I]Whisper was very wary of Dalamar, moreso than his female companion. There was something about the woman that was almost endearing; if a vampire could be referred to as such.

Cold, golden eyes remained fixated upon Dalamar as he continued the verbal exchange with Hannibal; his hand against her fur still passing a silent message to remain calm, but alert. As Dalamar's hand moved to rest against the hilt of his weapon, she took a calculated step forwards with her right front paw; lips curling back into a feral snarl as another low growl was emitted from deep within her throat. A warning. The Vampire -might- be able to slay her, however, she would attack any who so much as laid one harmful hand upon Hannibal.

The woman approaches Hannibal, thus drawing the attention of the wolf fully. Black lips were still curled back in warning, but she held her growl and her ground. From her periphereal vision, she could see Dalamar still and remained poised to spring into an attack if it were to become necessary.

Her head cants to the right as the woman begins to chant; her keen sense of hearing allows her hear it as if it were sung into her own ears, causing the left one to twitch and shiver to course its way along her spine, sending the hairs at the back of her neck upwards once more.

When Alana finishes with Hannibal and steps back, Whisper takes one more step forwards; then sniffs carefully at the cold hand set out before her. Memorizing the female's scent, she lifts her large golden eyes to gaze upon Alana's.

If looks could convey speech, Whisper's eyes would have spoken volumes. Peace between the two would remain as long as no threats of harm came to both the wolf and Hannibal. A subtle nod of the head from the wolf to Alana gives the woman notice that there is an unspoken understanding between the two creatures.

Backing up, she brushes her side against Hannibal's leg, then nudges her head against his hand, then sits back on her haunches and looks to the three with a gentle flicker of her bushy tail.

[H. A. Ferenczy]

Hannibal noted the curious exchange between Alana and Whisper. They now had an understanding, that was obvious to him. And it seemed that Hannibal and Dalamar had an understanding as well. It seemed to him that he was now a part of the Shrine. All he needed was simple, verbal confimation. Hannibal spoke.

"So, I am acceptable to you..... May we join the Shrine now? Become kin to you?"

[Vampyre Dalamar]

"The Invitation is given. Come at your leisure and bring your guest. Here is a datapad with the exact location of the Shrine. Make sure you speak your name clearly so there is no misunderstanding. The Shrine Guardians are shall we say adamant about doing there job." Sliding his katana around and securing it to his back Dalamar assumed a relaxed pose. Seeing he was not tainted there would be no violence tonight. Along with the Datapad he handed him a emerald necklace, this has my sigil buried in the gem show this to the gatekeeper it will help you avoid any trouble. Good luck Ferenzy in the future things are more dangerous than ever before. But nothing a true vampire could not handle.

[H. A. Ferenczy]

"I might as well return with you. After all, I really have no where else to go, and daylight will come soon...."

Hannibal took the emerald necklace and the datapad offered. He fastened the emerald necklase around his neck and put the datapad in a pocket insid his coat.

"....and that's something that not many Vampyres could deal with."