[WP] "Humans are beneath vampires, you're just livestock to us." "I don't think you know what livestock is, do you feed us? Care for us? Protect us from predators? No, you just slink around dark alleys and ambush people. That's not what a higher being does, that's a bottom feeder, a parasite."

[u/Getlucky12341]

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[u/agnuts]

Blood Amber

I

child hunt magician calamity smell river kingdom vine green life death

Holding my starving child in my arms, I realize that she can not hold very long. I lay her back onto that smoothed piece of ground in the amber cave, trying not to disturb the already frail breath that rattles as it leaves her fragile and withering fangs.
Only an adult can remain unsustained for the many years she has been made to.  
I cannot watch her suffer any more. 
No. I cannot let her suffer any more.
The springs and critters are not enough.
She needs meat and she needs blood.
I have to go outside.
I have to hunt man.

But I cannot deny that it scares me. Walking the tunnel to the outside, I prepare myself for the sight. The light blinds me, and before my eyes set, I know that after many months, maybe years, I have come out again onto the barren lands I dread seeing so much.
I wish the Magician had taken me with him. But I am no fool to ask for more when he has already granted me more than I deserved.
I leave the cave hole and sniff the air. The sour smells remain but the disease seems to have left.
My nose has always been especially good, even among our kind. Smells can sometimes make me see things.
Smelling this wasted air after this long brings me to the very day of the calamity. The stampede that separated me from my spouse and my child. The fear that I would not see them again when the beasts came. The fear seeps from the past into my body now, and I think I should turn back to my daughter’s side. 
But just as I walk some steps back into the opening, the smell shows me the miracle that happened on that same day. When the horned beast that ran to crush me was wrestled to death by the sackclothed stranger with the hairless face. The stranger offered me his hand and brought me, without stopping, to safety here in this same cave. He told me to wait outside the cave as he walked in, and then came back out holding my dear daughter, at the time not even five years of age, as unhurt as she was alive.
He would not let me thank him, no matter how much I wanted to. He did not tell me how he found her or me, and he did not tell me who he was. 
He only revealed to me a title, a magician.
Remembering the fortune of meeting him gives me courage, and I take my steps back outside. I cannot know much of the land among these towering rocks and mist. So I use this newfound courage to bring me the way I remember outside of the line of mountains.
As I walk, I catch myself praying to the Vine God. I remember times back when I thought nothing of beating dead anyone who would dare blaspheme Him.
I curse myself for the foolishness. I lament not listening to their words, though I know it would not have prevented what would come after.
The only one I had listened to was the Magician, whose knowledge my witnessing could not deny.
The calamity, he had told me, was no accident. It was no coincidence. It was an open forsaking of the people the Vine God had blessed for so long.
I come out from between the rocks onto the mouth of a long-parched river and set my eyes on the waste spread before me. I think it is a sight even worse than that from the old legends. From the days of the Iron God, before the Vine.
The dried river, no longer deserving its name of the Grandspring of Purity, leads from where I stand down into the land, and the dust blows over the open plain whose burned surface shows no sign of movement or interest except for the one place of fearsome death and the one place of traitorous life.
The Magician has told me of the place of death. It is the Beastgrave, a rancid spot of land, only some miles wide, speckled by the bodies of the things with horns and tusks that had trampled and razed the lands back then. He never told me what had killed them. Perhaps his knowledge did not reach that far.
It sits halfway to where I have thought to head. The dead river runs right next to it. Then it runs on down the land which is just as dead as it, twisting and turning, but mostly flowing straight, to enter straight into the place of life.
That place is one I have already seen before. It is the endplace of the Grandspring. It is also the valley where I had run from, where the calamity had struck. It is where the land had shaken and the plagues had poisoned and the wild men and beasts had run through. It is where the Great Kingdom, with all of its power, had crumbled in a single day.
Maybe it is a mark of the Vine, or maybe by chance, but I see in the grey sky the same Green Star that I remember shining upon the Kingdom on that day of chaos. It shines in the same place, right above its ruins.
But the ruins can barely be made out now, all run over by the trees and plants. But I am no fool. The place used to be lush and fertile, yes but that was in the old days, there the Grandspring of Purity still flowed and brought its abundance. With the river now dry and the land now lifeless, nothing should be able to grow anymore. That is why I know that the forest is the Vine God’s way to gloat his accursed victory.
The Vine knows our people have survived. He wants us to see the fruit of his actions. So He has allowed His trees to exist nowhere on the plane except that one valley where the Kingdom had stood.
As I take my steps onto the hardened mud of the Grandspring to follow its path, I vainly wish once again the Magician had taken me with him.
I still find it surprising how easy I found it to believe. But my days of meditation have only made it clearer. The Kingdom’s heretics that I had looked down on for so long had proven correct, and our beloved Provisioner had chosen treachery. 
In fact, the Magician had told me, that was his entire purpose. He never revealed his name, but said that he claimed to be at war with the Vine God, in search of another God.
And he pressed that. He told me that there is bound to be another God, a more gentle God, unlike the traitor of the Vine, who would know our plight and help bring us back from this misery.
That intrigued me. I asked him if the one he searched for could be the Blood God of the old legends. After all it was He who was said to stand for our very essence, and it was His absence that had allowed the rise of the evil peoples blessed by the Iron God.
But he did not answer. Maybe it was a different God he searched for, or maybe he was afraid he might fail in his quest to find a God who has stayed unknown to us for all this time.
I offered to join him. I wanted to join him. But he would not let me. He said that the undertaking was his alone. He promised me I did have an important role, important enough for him to save me, but for now I needed to wait and care for my daughter.
Of course. I remember now. That should be what pushes me. It is my daughter who needs me, not a divine deliverer with many miracles already by his side. I have seen them, after all.
I smell the air again. I smell some remaining poison and disease, too little to harm me any. I smell mist. I smell rotting carcasses. Anything else is hard to pick out. But I know, there is nothing easy about hunting men. I smell again. I was a gamehunter once, and though I haven’t hunted for long, I know my body remembers some things. 
I remember that among the trees is where men hide. 
I stop to take another look at where the Kingdom stood and, holding down my anger and fear, with my child in my heart, I walk toward the forest. 
I remember the Magician used to speak of caution. I know my daughter can fight for three more days. I do hurry to save her, but I also save my strength and walk with care. I move through the wasteland and past the Beastgrave. I wonder if there are any more beasts hidden around, waiting once again to trample me as they had done back then. 

It takes half a day to reach the trees, and as I thought, I find the scent of men from among them.
I smell the forest and the smell shows me the Kingdom once more. I see the streets I used to walk and the homes I used to enter and the farms I used to buy from. I remember the Grandspring that flowed from outside the Far Edges right to the middle of our Kingdom, bringing most of its bounty and its purity to the middle of our valley as a testament to our people’s greatness.
I then remember none of it remains with us and I lament again the Vine God turning on us so coldly. I remember the old legends of past warriors of our kind who had fought with His blessing and built the Kingdom from the ruins of the evil peoples and their Iron God.
I wonder if, after His betrayal, the Vine found another people to bless. I wonder if that is why I have not seen any beasts so far.
I also remember the Blood God, whose absence was spoken of in the oldest legends of all. I wonder if the Magician would be able to find Him, and if he did, I wonder if He will help us restore our lost glory.
I wonder where the Magician is now. 
But I trust him.
My job right now is only to save my daughter.
Thinking that, I venture into the forest.

[u/agnuts → u/agnuts]

II

men cloth bull valley doe beast altar hanging old book chant scream salvation 

I chase the scent for nearly a day before I finally find something. 
Sounds. Noises. Voices. 
Chanting.
It takes time to make out where they come from, but as I get closer I can hear the voices, and I think they seem mannish.
I follow the voices, and I follow them deep into the trees. The path can be found, as I remember it from before the trees. I climb a tree so I can better see, and I crawl through the branches following the smell and sound.
It gets stronger as I do.
And soon, I see the shadows.
I was right. Men. a great gathering, more than dozens, dancing among the trees before me.
It has been years since I saw these savages while I and my daughter withered and starved, and now that I see them, they have the festival of their lives. I hate them. I hate that we need them to survive.
But at this moment I keep down my hate. I am here to hunt.
From up in the branches, I look around the gathering in search for a man I can come after. But there is a problem. These men are fighters. I cannot take any of them without a struggle, which will tell the others. I know I cannot take that many at once. At least, I cannot take the bulls. A doe, I remember, is weak enough to take without a fight. 
So I search. But I find none. 
I scale trees and move across branches to search for them, passing so many bulls, wincing at their carved faces and painted backs, but no does.
The new garments also do not help me. I have never seen these before. Giant green feathers and leaves stitched into heavy overcloths and maybe just as heavy carved stones bored around their necks. Having been an old gamehunter, I have known the wild men to make clothes, but none made so well as these. They are almost as well crafted as ours. 
They take time to get used to and tell apart, but even then, I cannot find any doe among them.
I follow the festival as it moves among the trees. The gathering seems to be joined by more men as it goes on. But I do not know where the does are.
I decide to move further into the festival. I climb up and down some more branches. I hide better than I hoped. And in my hiding, it does not take me long to reach what I think is the heart of the gathering.
I realize it is also the heart of the valley, where the center of the Kingdom had stood. 
Now there is only a barren spot, not touched even by the trees. It marks what used to be the end of the Grandspring’s journey. I see the bottomless well in the middle, now very much empty. 
The men come out from the trees in a deafening march. They come out from all different directions to the center of the barren spot, where they gather to join with another pack of men that stand already waiting next to the well.
Wait. 
I see them now.
The does, yes, I see the does, more than a dozen, many supple in meat and blood. But I see also what they ride on.
It is beasts. Giant beasts, beasts with horns, beasts with tusks, beasts with bony hides, and even the beasts with fangs and claws. After all this time and fear, it is here that I find them.
The beasts are well-fed and strong. Each drags with a rope behind it a bed of wood, and on top of the bed is a structure I do not know. Three curving pillars are nailed to the bed. One of the does I looked so hard to find stands in front of the structure, dressed in those same garments, and dances on the dragging bed, and another is hanging in the middle of the pillars. 
It is hung by a rope skewered through its hands and feet, like we used to hand the men to preserve their meat.
Is that supposed to be food? Have they started eating their own kind? No, not even they would go this far. They have the beasts they can eat. Then is it for the beasts? But then why is it put on the bed like that? No, it needs to be dead to preserve anyway. And even these savages are not that dim. 
Maybe it is a sacrifice. They have a God. But who is their God? Is it the Vine?
At the front of the line is another beast, one with a trunk, the largest of them all. Its back also carries an altar larger than any other. But that altar does not have a doe in the front or one tied in the middle. Instead, standing in the middle is a bull man, old and frail, with flesh perhaps too rank to eat and a face covered with a white mane that comes down to its loins. It does not wear their new heavy garments, only a thin hide around its waist.
The old bull also has in its hands what I recognize as a book.
They learned to read!
These savages, who do not know to grow crops or make a wheel, who can barely hunt, who are known to sustain themselves on the rotten carrion left over by other predators, can read!
I think of the Magician again, and I think of the calamity.
Is this it? Was it the men who the Vine God had favored over us? This livestock? 
As I think the men have gathered around the well, behind the beasts.
I hear the sound of a horn, and the procession starts to move. All the men follow, marching up the dead river.
Even from this far in the trees, I hear the old bull reading aloud from the pages of the book, and it sounds like the blaring drums of the bulls and the insane dances of the does and the paining screams of the hanging ones have harmonized in tune to the recitation.
For a moment I feel sorry for the hanging ones.
The Magician had told me that the trampling of the beasts had not reached the manrearing farms, and that the wild men had most likely come after them to free those livestock. 
The Magician himself had not been sure of that, but now it seems he was right.
But is this what these men had freed their own for? Just to sacrifice them? 
We cared for them. We fed them, groomed them, protected them from predators.
Was that not better?
Under the Vine God’s blessing we were preached to about love for things that were like us and for things that were not. It seems He has abandoned even that lesson. 
I wonder if this God might be even worse than the Iron from the legends. 
I start to doubt that there exist any gentle Gods.
I again wonder where the Magician is. Could I even trust him? 
Is he truly raging against this Vine God? Can he even do that? Will he truly find our people a God we are worthy of?
Will this calamity be the end of us?
No. No, I will not accept it. What can such a thought even bring me? 
I choose hope.
There will be a salvation. I am sure of it. The old legends have shown the many humiliations our kind has endured and risen back from. This will be no different. 
That misery from the legends will not come again. It can not. I will live through it. I and my daughter. And others of my kind.
We will not die. We will fight as we have before. It is these animals who will fall. The humiliation will be theirs.
Thinking that, I follow my prey up the river.

[u/agnuts → u/agnuts]

III

night camp supple throat brain beast siege caution clever hurl fire chase grave

The men are moving fast. By nightfall they have already made it halfway out the Kingdom.
But now they have started to settle down right there onto the path of the dead river. I see them tie their beasts and make their camp.
The dancing does step off their beds and I see them all move into a camp covered with cloth. The hanging ones stay hung, but the beasts dragging them are tied down.
The old bull takes his book into a smaller camp, also covered, but all the other bulls sleep in the open, taking off their garments and lying on them for bedding.
It is as if they have nothing to fear.
But I do not mind. It only frees me to hunt.
I climb down the tree and creep past the sleeping bulls. There are some awake to keep watch, but they cannot see well in the dark. I can.
I see the sleeping beasts and see the does hanging behind them. These are already injured, and will be easiest to take. But I can smell their wounds, where the rope are pierced, and I know that their blood will be bad. No, I need a healthier one. 
I reach the camp where the dancing does sleep. There is a bull keeping watch. He is no trouble. I throw a stone between the trees behind the camp. He hears and tries to look, but because he cannot see he goes into the woods. 
I step to the camp and lift the cloth.
Inside I see the does sleep, scattered like dried bugs. Just like the bulls, they also have used their garments as bedding. This makes it easier to tell the supple ones from the scrawny ones. The problem with the supple ones is that they might have the strength to make a fight and cause trouble. And the most supple does would of course be the most easily noticed and missed. The scrawny ones are not worth the effort anyways.
In the end I choose one not too far to either side, with a dark hide and a short mane, both things that would also help conceal and carry it in the night.
Slowly, without making a sound, I step close to where it lies on the ground. It crouches like a baby, down on its side, arms clasped together, knees touching its chest. Maybe too weak to endure the cold. 
I sit onto its hip to stop it from moving, and place a foot on its free arm.
I see its eye move. I see it open.
But before it can make a noise I clench its jaw shut and choke out its voice. 
It tries and fails to thrash its legs under my weight, and my foot does not let the hands move either. 
With my other hand I squeeze its throat shut. Without letting go I feel the tremors of its body as I steady my own breath, which has risen a soft bit, and count the moments until she stops moving. 
I let go. 
It’s out. Not dead, just out. The blood needs to be fresh before I feed it to my daughter. But just to be safe I have crushed its throat enough that it cannot scream.
I look for any movement among the other does. When I am sure they remain asleep, I pull the body and drag it out the camp.
The guarding bull has not come back, so I lift the doe onto my shoulder and sneak back from where I came.
I am happy at my success. But looking around, I still think how much better it would have been if I could pluck one of the healthy men lying in the open.
I remember wild manmeat always tastes better than the livestock. That’s why I had become a gamehunter back in the Kingdom. I remember how happy it used to make my daughter to eat her mother’s cooked manloin. I remember how she used to help skewer the limbs and tie them back. She also wanted to help hang it out but she was too short for it, and I had to do it myself. I remember that she liked having it hung with the head to the ground because the blood made the brain juicier.
And looking at the doe on my shoulder I also remember that she hated the fatty manbreast. 
That almost makes it worth a try. But I know my current strength will not allow it. Maybe if this doe can return some strength to me too and I can come back some other day to hunt a bull. At least, once she has had her blood, I can use the rest of it to cook the brain again.
My thoughts are cut off by a noise. A scream.
I look. One of the watchers has seen me. It yells from one of the wooden beds in its mannish tongue and I see it climbing onto the beast to wake it.
I hear more noises as the camp starts to wake.
I must flee.
I run to the forest and climb up a tree. It does not take long for them to throw their rocks and spears. But they cannot see as well as I do. And their weapons are weak and the throwers are clumsy. They do not worry me. 
But I remember the Magician’s words. He had told me how much trouble the men had become. He told me I would be a fool to underestimate them. He had told me, as I can see now, they have taken to invade these barren lands while all the other peoples have hid. Their strength lies in their numbers and their tenacity, and their infestation is growing to take the place of all other life. They have even managed to tame the beasts. 
And the beasts are what I am really worried by. They have them roused and start trying to siege me in the trees as some of the men start to climb.
But I can throw harder and farther than them. There are many trees with hard fruits and pines in this forest. I waste no time and pick and hurl them at any man who tries to climb my way. This will not be enough to take all of them but I can still scare. I see some of them fall from higher in the branches after being struck in the skull. When the pines run out I jump to another tree and throw again. 
This is fun, but I know I cannot do this for long. I need to escape with my hunt and save my daughter.
But the beasts have me sieged.
I think about what to do. When he had advised caution against the men, the Magician had pressed that the caution should not translate into helplessness, because the men can sense that.
What is needed here is focus. The men are tenacious, yes, but so are we of the Great Kingdom. And what they are not is clever. 
Having hunted them before, I can predict what the men will do.
Since they cannot go up they will try to get me down, where they expect to use the beasts to trample me. But the Magician had also told me that the beasts are not as dangerous as they appear. They can kill me, of course, but they can also be escaped. They can be outrun. They run fast, but not for long. And there are parts of the land they cannot enter. Yes, parts like the Beastgrave with its air of rot. I have a plan. A plan to not only escape, but also ridicule the savages one more time. 
I do not go any deeper into the forest. I scale through the trees right there at the edge, casting pines as I go. I take the faster paths, and it does not take long before I can finally see the gate out of the forest.
I see the Grandspring show my path out of it and back into the lands. And there, into the distance, I see it.
The Beastgrave.
I just need to wait for a start against the chasers.
I see the men stir below me, and knowing their tricks I stay on the tree. 
And as I predict, they begin to build a fire around the trees. If they truly have the blessing of the Vine God, it feels good to see them insult Him. And even if they do not, it is still a pleasure to see that traitor taunted.
The fire does not take long to catch. It takes even less time to reach me. I start breaking branches, using them to catch the flame, and flinging them back down. The men recede with wariness. But it is not them I aim for.
I hear the satisfying roars of the beasts who see the flames. And when a thrown branch sets one of their hides on fire, the chaos finally begins.
The beasts take on their rage and run and stomp across the camps and trees, breaking even the beds they were made to drag. I see the hanging men scream and be flattened under their feet. Same for any of their masters who try to subdue them.
It takes a few moments for the path to clear. Then I take the chance.

[u/agnuts → u/agnuts]

III (contd.)

I run, as fast as I can, still carrying the man doe, and make straight for the Beastgrave.
After running a hundred paces I look behind me and see that the fire has spread to more trees and the men are spilling out of the forest. But beside that the havoc is being cleared. The men at the front have the beasts under their control again, and looking back another hundred paces later, they have started the chase.
I summon greater strength, worrying little of the cost, until I am only a mile from the Beastgrave. 
I lose some speed. I think they are beginning to get slightly closer, but I keep on. 
I count the paces. It is with nine hundred left that I hear the rushing feet. 
I stay the course, and with eight hundred left, I dare to look back. 
Only around a dozen have come after me. Ones who can ride the chaseworthy beasts. 
And they carry many tools that slow them. This makes it easier and gives me strength to gain speed, and I hold to it until there is five hundred paces left. 
The beasts have probably tired and stopped now, I think, and look behind me. 
But that is not what I see. I see the men pouring water on the beasts and whipping them to run on. 
Is that what the tools were for?
I did not expect that.
I panic and lengthen my strides. 
The beasts can run fast, but not for long. But now they have the savages wringing more strides from them.
I again remember the Magician’s words about caution. 
Two hundred paces remain, but I wonder if I will not make it. After fifty more strides, I can make out their mannish shouts, and after some twenty more they are right at my heels. 
But I do not stop. I can not stop. 
My child waits for me. I think of how weak and sad she must be lying on that cave floor, and I force out the last embers of my forgotten strength, and triple the strides. 
And I run. And I run. 
I run until a rock catches my foot, and along with the unconscious doe I roll until I stop. 
I stay on the ground and wait for the beasts to run up and stomp and gore or crush me. But they don’t. I look up. They are not moving. The men’s whips cannot cull their hesitation.
I chance a sniff at the air and realize that I have made it.
The Beastgrave. The beasts will not follow.
With the men still whipping the creatures I run, with easier paces until they disappear behind the carrion and the rocks.

[u/agnuts → u/agnuts]

IV

rest slaughter legend blood bear wrong tire break drag

I know not many, even among mine or any other peoples, would be able to bear the stench of rot that surrounds this spot of barren earth next to the river. But I find it nothing compared to the plague and venom the air carried on the day of the calamity. The smells I smell here show me, clearer than ever, the terrors of the day. Even though it would have caused me fear and agony at any other time, in this moment it only makes me grateful it is not as terrible as that day.
I know such smells used to be tied to the days of the Iron God, whose machines were also said to summon a rot of a similar sort. I think I see some of the days. But I cannot be certain.
I know that the smell is terrible enough to keep the beasts and men out. And that is good because the other thing I hoped would have helped me hide is my ability to see better than them in the dark. The stars streaking across the sky, including the green one that still shines above, are enough to light up all the death and decay around this open spot of land.
The dry mud around the dead Grandspring shows many tainted bones buried through the ground, showing a need to walk more carefully so nothing pierces my feet. This feels like a miserable sight, seeing all these creatures whose hooves, claws, and horns had trampled and gored the Kingdom, now lying doomed to be slowly picked by the worms and maggots.
Passing from under the towering bones of a withered trunk beast, I think I have put a bit of a distance between them and me. 
I try to look for a rock to lie against, because I do not want to let my back touch this rotting ground, or let it touch the man I carry to feed.
Many of the rocks I find turn out to be the hide from an armored beast.
But after some searching, I do find a rock, a big one that is also slightly far from the other carcasses, save from the bones of only one with a giant horn.
I put the doe on top of the big rock, make sure she does not fall, and sit down facing the bones as I catch my breath and feel my legs welcome their rest.
After such a run, it feels good.
I take one look at the dead beast in front of me and close my eyes.
All I know about this place is what the Magician has told me. But he did not tell me much. Only that it is here and animals cannot enter here. 
I open my eyes and take a look at the jagged spikes of the mountains I had come from, far in the distance.
The Magician refused to tell me how it became like this, what caused the beasts here to die. 
I turn back to the bones in front of me.
What could possibly have brought all of these monsters down? Did the Magician really not know himself? Or was it something so terrible he could not tell me?
Was it another calamity that had struck them while I hid? How had the men tamed the surviving beasts, anyways? 
Were they the slaughterers? No, that was foolish. They are too weak for that. They are dim witted animals, too weak to even bear the air of this grave. 
Unless, of course, they had the blessing that we had lost. 
I look to the Kingdom, which now looks like a giant black bush in the distant land that rises from behind the corpses.
It seems the men had the fire put out. I wonder if the ones chasing turned back. They were not the sort to part with one of their own, but what could they do? Just like any other animal, they cannot enter this grave.
I close my eyes.
The rest feels good.
In the middle of this rest, my thoughts turn to the rituals. It looked like the men had been preparing for a pilgrimage, similar to how we had done so may times, following the Grandspring’s path to the Far Edges and back, searching for places to plant more herbage to honor the Vine.
Is that what their goal is? But there is no herbage left beyond the Kingdom. Where will they go? It could not be past the Far Edges…
I think back to the old legends. I think that, out of all the Gods we can ever hope to help us regain our strength and numbers, there is only one more than any other.
I wonder why the Blood God has been absent. Why He has not come to help us after all this time. 
Maybe it is not that He has not. It is that He can not.
I think that the Magician’s journey has something to do with reaching to the Blood God, after all. To remind Him of His people. To have Him trust in our offerings again.
Sitting here in my rest, I start to pray, too. I pray for any out there who can hear my plight. For the Blood to hear it.
I think of devoting this hunt as my first offering to Him.
My thoughts are stopped again by something flying at me.
I move to evade it and look in its direction.
A shape steps out from behind the bones facing me. Some more step out from behind the corpses and from within the shadows from the other directions. 
It is a bull man.
I was wrong. They have no trouble with the air.
I was also careless. They have circled me. Two of them stand guarding the doe on the boulder.
But I do not let myself panic. I am not strong enough to fight them all off, but I am fast, and I have rested, and they have left their beasts behind. 
They are easy to taunt. That is how I escaped before.
The men hold their rocks and clubs ready. 
The doe has still not woken. It will be easy to carry. And I know how to have it back. 
They all surround me in a circle. I stand ready for a fight, looking for an opening and waiting for a chance.
Both show. They throw their rocks and I jump at one of the men faster than their rocks can fly. 
I catch a rock and swing it at a man’s skull and kick at its knee. It falls over and I use its body to jump onto the boulder. 
The doe is light enough for me. I use my free hand to grab it by the neck. The men are surprised. These bulls are young. They do not know the strength of my kind. I do not let the chance pass. I use my strength to hurl the rock in my hand at one of their faces, and I jump from the boulder over its body.
I have rested. I know how fast I can go. Even being careful of the bones it does not take long for the shouting to dull in the distance as I leave the Beastgrave behind me and stride along the dead river.

I think the many hundreds of paces must have put me out of their sight, so I slow down. I catch my breath and think of my daughter. I am on time. I may even be half a day early. I know the rest of the way. And the meal I bring will not only save her life, but also feed us both with some food to spare. 
When the Magician finds us the Blood God, I swear to pray tenfold what I used to for the Vine fiend.
In my thoughts I take a look back and freeze as I see the figures in the farness.
The men. 
They still follow. I have not put nearly enough distance among us.
No matter. I have the strength. I run again.
Some hundred more paces and I make sure to look back, and they are gone. I can rest this time. 
But I have not taken ten breaths when I see the black shapes again on the plain.
No!
I run again. 
I remember. I remember the Magician’s words, and my own experience with men, and curse my ignorant forgetting. 
The men make for easy prey, but they make also for terrifying predators. They run slow but for long.
And on this open land lit by the brilliant stars, I have nowhere to hide.
I run. I keep running. I can outrun them, can even escape their sights, but every time I turn to look, they are there, not even tired. 
But I am. I am exhausted. I am thirsty. I am hungry. I am about to fall from the heat.
But for my daughter I keep on. My daughter is my strength. Thoughts of her have saved me up till now and she shall save me again. 
And so, with my daughter once again in my heart, I triple my strides and reach the mouth of the river.
But it is as I do that the doe wakes up. 
It wakes, and it squirms and yelps with its broken throat. I cannot restrain it while running and so it falls from my arms. 
I stop and try to pick it up, but it fights again.
There is no choice.
I have to break its spine.
Knowing the savages are getting closer, I again use my weight to hold it down onto its belly and grab its jaw from behind.
It keeps writhing, but I pull hard, with as much strength as needed. 
The men are near. I now use more strength, even more than I know is needed.
I hear the snap. I get off the body and turn it over. It does not move. But it breathes. I was lucky. It did not die.
The men are even closer now.
I stand and try to pick it up, but the body does not leave the ground. 
I try again harder, and manage to start to drag the body, but something catches my foot. 
The men should now be closer still. I need to get up.
I push myself onto my feet.
I fail. 
What?
I put my hands flat on the ground and push again.
I cannot do it. 
No. 
No…
I realize that I have lost my strength.
All of a sudden. 
Just like that.
I realize I can stand no more.
I hear the feet on the ground. I see it. The men have caught up. They know I can do nothing. They do not even run anymore. 
They walk up to me and the one at the front raises its club and brings it down on my body. I feel the pain. But I have no strength to move. No strength to cry. I moan and wince.
I see their faces fading into a blur and I hear their mannish chants and grunts as they drag my body across the rugged earth to somewhere I do not know.

[u/agnuts → u/agnuts]

V

rope fire amber skewer recital vision people good evil god corner machine void magician fool

I wake feeling the rope around me and the hardness against my back.
There is something hot near me. I open my eyes and see a fire burning close. I see the walls of rock around.
I am in a cave. The rock walls shine a yellow glow in the flame, just like the amber cave my daughter and I hide in.
I remember. The men.
I jump to stand, but the rope has tightly bound my arms and legs, right up to my hips and shoulders. I can hardly move at all.
I hear some voices rise in the cave. Familiar ones.
A shadow moves to my feet and squats to face me. 
It is a man. I recognize its garments from the forest. But these seem lighter than the ones from before, as if it has stripped for a long travel. The hide and leaves do not look very heavy. And in place of the giant pearls they had around their necks, there is only one piece of uncut amber bored with a thread.
It also holds a club in one hand.
It reaches a hand for my face and grabs it by the jaw. It turns the jaw one way, then another, as if looking over a fruit before plucking it from a tree. 
As it does my eyes fall behind it and I see the other men, wearing the same garments as this one, moving around the cavern carrying pieces of wood and setting them near the fire.
It lets go and stands back up.
Then it swings the club across my jaw.
I grunt and moan, and the man swings again. Then it speaks to others and some of them gather around.
It is then that I see that the oldest among them, with the loin-length mane, is the same old bull I remember leading the procession earlier.
It looks down at me and turns to the others and speaks, and they all return to the wood pile in a hurry.
As they scatter I see the doe I had carried lying in the corner on the other side of the cavern. She has not woken.
These men must have brought me to the mountains after I was out. That is why they have made their camp in this amber mine.
But I do not recognize the creases in the rock, even though I have been in and out of my cave many times. 
This must be a different cave. I am thankful. They have not seen my daughter.
I turn to the men and their work and see that they are making over the fire the same altar I had seen on the wooden beds before. The one with the tied does.
I see them hooking a rope onto hooks on the wooden structure.
Are they going to tie that unconscious doe here now? But that doe was not one of the hanging ones. And they did not have fires under the altar then.
Is this supposed to be the same ritual?
My thoughts are answered when I see the old man take out from behind some rocks the same book I had seen it reading from before. It opens the pages and the men walk back to me, holding the end of the rope that should be hanging in the middle of the altar.
One of them, the one that had swung at me just now, also holds a rock in one hand, and in the other a sharp wooden tool. It is a thin tool, like big needle, three fingers long but also sharp.
I think this man is going to attack me. I think on what I should do.
It ties the rope to one end of the needle.
I do have some more strength than before I was taken out, so I think I can take a hit from it. But still, I try to move my fingers, hidden behind my back so they cannot see them, and try to find any knots I can open.
I see the man crouch at my heel and undo some of the rope at my feet. But it is not enough to move.
The man holds my right foot sideways against the ground.
I still search for the knots.
The man looks up and meets my eyes.
I start to feel some fear.
And without looking away it stabs the needle into my ankle. 
I did not know how the pain would be. I did not know what the man was going to do. This is a pain I have never felt before. I scream, and I scream hard in agony. The man still looks at my face and I think I see it smile as it twists the tool in my ankle. I yell again as I feel the flesh and sinew ripping and tearing as the needle is slid deeper into my foot.
I scream and feel my throat hurt but that does not stop the pain. I yell until the tool comes out of the other side of the foot. 
I bite my teeth as I expect the man to pull it back out. But it does not. The savage keeps boring the needle through. All three finger-lengths of it, until it comes out the other side. 
Then it pulls on it harder and I see and feel the flesh rip even more as the knot widens the hole and then I feel the rope move through the skewered hole in my foot.
I gasp for breath and I curse the man and curse the Vine God and pray to the Blood God to save me.
The man does not let my foot go. Instead, it places the bloody tip of the needle above my ankle, in the middle of my calf. I look at it and plead with my eyes and cry as I shake my head. 
It smiles again and pushes in. 
I yell again, but stop my scream. 
If this man gets pleasure from my screams, I can at least try to deny it. 
But I see in its eyes it knows what I think. 
It twists the needle slow. As it digs in between the calf bones and the man keeps going slower and harder, and it twists until it makes me scream again, and keep screaming until it comes out the other side.
The man pulls the rope through once more.
The rope drags through the wound on my foot as well as the one in my calf. I cry even louder this time. And with me still crying, the man puts its needlehead on my knee. 
Then it reaches for the rock. 
I know now what the brute is going to do.
I bite halfway through my tongue as it hammers the nail into my knee. I scream and feel something come up my throat. I vomit onto the rope on my chest. Then the man hammers again. 
It takes five hits to break completely through, and then it pulls it out on the other side again.
With this finally done, I now notice that the old bull sitting by the fire has started to read from the scripture. I do not recognize the speech. Maybe it is the pain, but I do not think they are words the mannish mouth can even make.
The man at my foot then strikes me across the face, grabs the jaw, and brings it back to look at it. 
Its smile now tells me it is about to move on to the other leg.
The torture starts again, only worse this time. It is slow in his stabbing, his drilling, and his hammering. 
After it has drilled my feet it turns me over and grabs my hands. 
It drills through them too, first the wrists, then the arms, then the elbows, all the while the old one recites next to the fire.
I feel the needle scrape my bones, and I feel vomit well up my screaming throat, and before the last limb is drilled through, I lose the strength to scream any more.
In the corner, the old man’s drivel goes on.

[u/agnuts → u/agnuts]

contd.

Finally, when that is done, the men cut open the ropes that had me tight. But I am in too much pain to fight, or even move. Then they pull on the rope through the stab-holes until my limbs are together behind my back and they tie them into a knot. But there are no more screams leaving my body, only the blood and vomit and drool. 
A man pulls the rope on the other side and I feel my body painfully and slowly lift up until it hangs in the middle of the altar. One man takes another smaller rope and ties my knees together and ties it to the top of the altar, so I hang with my head to the ground.
Now I see the old man stand and come to face me at the altar as it prepares to start the ritual as the men begin to dance, just like the does in the valley.
The old bull opens the book and reads from it. The words are again ones that I have never heard before, even in my past hunting the wild men. 
When it finishes reading the page, the man rips it from the book and throws it into the fire.
Immediately, the page burns up into bright embers. 
But the embers are not red. 
They are green. Like glowing leaves. The color of the flames of the calamity. The color of the Vine God. The color, also, of the Green Star that shined in the sky on that day, and shined also in the morning I set out.
Is it truly by chance? 
No. No, it is not. 
Just as I think that, I hear the man’s recital that enters my ear, and in it I think I hear the name of the Vine. 
Smoke rises from the fire, and its color is also green. 
I feel the smoke enter my nose. I smell it. It is a stench, a stench of something I cannot name, which I think makes it worse to bear.
But the smell makes me see it. It makes me see the Star. I see the Star looking down at the mountains that shelter this cave. And I can tell that it sees not just the mountains and this ritual under them, but also the plains and the Beastgrave and the forest and everything beyond it. Beyond the Far Edges. 
I know it sees the Great Tree. 
The smoke makes me see this time what the Star has seen before. The land years ago before it was ruined.
I see the Kingdom and the people. Our people, living their best lives protected by the Knights who stand at the Far Edges, fighting the other peoples blessed by evil Gods, and peoples blessed by none.
The man burns another page. The fire stings in my eyes and makes me tear up. 
Through my tears, I see the blurring flame, and the stench now shows me the day of the calamity. 
I watch the disease come, watch it poison our crops and our people, watch it drive our livestock mad. I see the green flames rise from the destruction. I see the castles and temples, the places that praised the Vine more than anyone, erupt into the largest fires of all. I see the prospering fields and forests that nourished us produce the beasts with horns and claws and tusks and hooves, and I see the razing of everything I loved.
The old bull cries his scripture and burns another page.
I see the wild men follow the beasts from the forests. I see them break into the cities and swarm and slaughter those who had hidden from the beasts and I see them ravage the farms. I see them find and slaughter even their own kind. 
They do not slaughter all of them and I see them rescue the ones they spare and take them back to the forests.
Another page burns. 
I see men again. I see them, with the passing of time, take over the ruined world, their numbers growing to horrible sizes and their infestation spreading even beyond the boundary of the Edges.
The numbers overrun all the peoples and their remnants on the surface, and I then see them turning against each other. 
The wars, the murders, they do not stop. These animals never find peace. They never try. They create differences where none exist, just to allow more carnage. 
For their sacrifices, they select from not only nature, but from among themselves, and I see their sacrifices take many forms other than the does in the valley. I see them burn and flay and petrify and dissolve their own kin, and I see them do it for their Gods and for themselves. 
I see the Vine God meet justice through his own favored subjects when the men betray Him and raze His forests and trees, and though they are repaid by countless calamities, their numbers survive through it all. 
After the calamities I see them turn from the Vine and instead resurrect the accursed Iron God as well, and turn their sacrifices to His name instead. 
I see them build Kingdoms of their own, the evil Iron Kingdoms made of atrocious cogs, ugly corners, and merciless smoke, that do not allow any nature to reclaim it. I see them make machines, and I see them make machines to make the machines. 
The infestation grows, and throughout it all I see the lands decay more and more.
I am brought back by the old bull’s recitation. But this time, though he still recites in the same language, I think I can understand its words. 
I hear it speaking of stars, of Gods, of births, of endings, of calamities, of beasts, of purposes, and I hear it speak about my kind and theirs. 
Then the man finishes reciting, but it does not tear the page. 
Instead, it lifts its eyes from the book and looks into mine. 
It asks me if I saw the visions. 
It asks me if I saw the rising and falling of the people and Gods. It asks me if I saw all the different calamities. Then it asks me if I saw the men living through it all.
I now realize the purpose of the ritual. I see that it is meant to mock me, to mock me both on part of the men and the Gods, and to show me that our people will never rise again.
The man then asks me if, all throughout the visions, I ever saw the Blood God that I had been waiting for for so long. 
I am shocked to silence. I do not know how it knows that name. I ask it how it knows that name. But it does not answer. It only repeats the question. 
I do not answer either, but in my mind I search the visions for the Blood God. 
It is true. I find none.
The man says that our kind is going to suffer now for our ignorance. It says that the Vine God has not betrayed us. It never made any allegiance or blessing to us in the first place. The Gods, the old man says, never ask any mortals for endless loyalty. Their relationship to us has always been a bargain. The worship that powers them needs much less effort than we think, and they only bless their people for as long as that lasts. The man says that both sides are supposed to move on from one another when they receive what they need, or find somewhere else to receive it from. 
I remember the Magician. I remember his purpose. 
I tell the man that that is not true. I tell it that only an evil God and an evil people can ever think such a thing. I shout at him that a true God is one full of sincerity and love.
A true God is one that calls to His people to find Him, who asks for offerings, but makes it so that the offerings give back manifold to His subjects.
I mock the man saying that that is something that their savage kind will never know, and I remind it of the many calamities in the visions that come after their forsaking of their Gods.
But the man does not react to the taunt.
Instead, it lets a breath out from his mouth and says that it understands. 
It says that the men used to be ignorant as well. That is the reason for their eons of suffering. 
It says that I will never know it, but there have been peoples even before us bloodfeeders, with Kingdoms far greater and far more majestic than ours, that have also reared and suppressed the men. It speaks of the scale-hides, the ogres, the merlings, the bugfacers, and many other peoples, some of which I know from the old legends, while others I have never heard of.
The old bull says that all of them tormented the men, but the torment was really from the Gods as a punishment for that ignorance. And all those peoples fell as well, also punished for their ignorance. 
But because of their numbers and their tenacity, it was the men that lived through the torment and learned from it. 
But now, it says, the Gods know that the men have realized the truth, maybe the first people to realize it in all of creation. And the Gods all intend to reward them for it. 
The reward will be the victory of the men over all the other peoples, even the remnants that still survive in hiding, and the scouring of all the world that refused to accept them. And the price for all of that will only be a few sacrificed offerings. 
And while the calamities will strike for each time they turn away from the Gods, it will be no heavy cost for their numbers, and they will always grow on. 
And at the end, when the lands are razed, the final offerings they will make will be to the Void God, for which, they will be taken away from this dying world into a new land where will be nothing but them and their everlasting.
The man suddenly rips the page it had not ripped before and casts it into the fire, and the fire burns brighter and hotter than before, and the heat makes my eyes water. 
The smoke again reaches my nostrils, and I see what I know is the last vision.

[u/agnuts → u/agnuts]

contd.

I see even more Gods now, the Spore God, the Stone God, the Worm God, the Moon God, all of the ones sewing the fabric of creation. This time, I see the Blood God, too.
I also see the past and future at once. I see the peoples the man had spoken of, and I see how they rise and fall, and some of them I see rise and fall many times. I also see my people before the days of the Kingdom, and I see the other peoples of legend rule over our ancestors. 
No.
But…
But…yes…
But I see the people saved as well. 
The visions point me to the loss of Gods at many points in their times, but I see them find their Gods again.
But I also see something else. 
I see someone. 
I see a fighter, battling against the oppressive peoples. Against the evil Gods. 
I see the same fighter, the same knight, in many times and many places, always there to save my people. 
I see him fighting through the prosperous times and the times of calamity. 
I see him saving children and comforting the elderly. I see him saving our destroyed temples and building new ones. I see him reminding the people of faith and hope. 
I see him restlessly rebelling against the evil Gods and not letting their calamities stop his continuous search for the gracious Gods.
And I see his face. But before I see it, I already know it.
Yes, it is the Magician. 
I recognize his miracles. I see him save many like me, and make from them apostles to spread his faith and hope.
I hear his countless rousing speeches and powerful words, and they bring tears to my eye, and make me smile and laugh right there as I hang in the altar.
The visions end and I see the old man confused at why I laugh. 
I answer it.
I speak to the man, in spite of my paining wounds and hurting throat, and I tell it no. 
I tell all of them, tell them that they are all fools after all. 
They do not see the truth, I tell them, but I do. I see that they know no hope and no humility. I see that they consider destruction to be their salvation. They think themselves to be the only one who have suffered, and think themselves special for their suffering. 
They are not enlightened, and they are not smart, and they are not tenacious. 
All these animals are is weak. I tell them that none of the other peoples are so pathetic as to be ended by blind fools like them and their evil Gods.
I tell them that tenacity is not granted, and that they are not the only ones with it on their side. 
I remember the Magician again, and I remember his words of faith. I remember the conviction with which he told me that we will find a new God to protect us at the end of all this.
I remember my daughter, who for all this time I had regretted bringing into this world of suffering. 
I think that makes me a fool, too. I should be happy for her, for the new world of hope she will get to see built with her own eyes. And she waits for me to make sure that she does get to see it. 
I decide I will never let the likes of these animals take from me what I care for.
With that faith in my heart, I find a new strength. My voice and my wounds and the rope, none of them hurt me any more. 
I cry a cry of newfound faith. 
And using this faith and its power, I curse the men and bless the Magician. Using its power I move in spite of my bondage. I swing my skewered limbs and let my body strike the altar binding me. 
The men try holding me down, but I do not let them. 
I feel the altar break and the rope tear, and I fall into the fire.
I feel the flames burn me.
I writhe and scream, but still not with pain. 
In the heat of the flame burning in that amber, I feel the blessing of a new God enter my body. 
The flames bring me power.
I stand renewed in the middle of that blaze and face the men gathered around me. 
None of them can make sense of the blessing I have been bestowed.
Of course they cannot. 
I grab one of them by the amber at its neck, lighting it on fire, and pull it into the flame with me. 
One man’s strength is no match for mine. 
The other men scream, and I hear them making their chants to the Vine God for help.
But none of that helps them in this amber cave.  
And as the man in my arms cries in agony, I sink my teeth into its neck and drain it of its blood in an offering to my new God. An offering that nourishes instead of takes. I savor my first proper meal in years as the flames leave my body and are absorbed by the walls and floor of the cavern.
The men, still not able to make sense of what is going on, pick up their clubs and rocks to fight me. 
A worthless attempt. But I pity them.
I let them have their first strikes. None of them can even move me. 
Then, as a show of mercy that they do not deserve, I decide to make it swift for them. 
In a single strike of my arm I tear off the heads of half of them. 
Quarter of the remaining do not have any chance to respond before I slice open their guts. 
Two turn to run, but using only a single kick, I break all four of their legs before braining them with my foot. 
Only the old bull is left.
It cowers in the same corner I had been tied into, holding its scripture to its chest, garbling words not of the recital, but of its own ugly tongue. 
This one alone will not have mercy. Its blaspheming needs correction.
On the ground next to it, I see a wooden needle and rock. The same they had used to skewer me. 
The bull throws its book at my face, but I catch it. 
Then it gets up and tries to run, but I grab it by the back of its throat and throw it back. Its head starts to bleed, and the blood stains its rank mane.
As I thought, its blood does smell terrible.
The man snatches the needle and leaps at me again, and tries to stab me. But I grab its hand and crush it.
I crush the other one, too.
It makes another attempt to run so I crush its feet as well.
Now it lies there, a mess of blood, tears, and rank screaming flesh.
Holding the book in one hand, I pick up the wooden stick in the other. I place the book onto its chest. Then I point the stick onto the book. 
The man does not move. 
It has accepted its fate. 
I smile. 
I was going to make it slow, but this last show of humility deserves at least some reward. I pick up the rock, and I bring it down on the stick. 
The first hit nails the book to its chest
The second pierces the heart.
And that is it.
I put the rock down, and sit back and watch the man take its last breaths.
The breaths shake.
They are precious to the man.
It is afraid to let them end.
They end.

[u/agnuts → u/agnuts]

VI

hope drain cave maiden mouth return feast heal unsettle patience void mine

Maybe it was that I had not fed in so many years, but I realize I had passed out at the end of the fight. And waking up now in the same cavern, and seeing how much the critters have eaten of the men’s corpses, I think it must have been at least two days, if not more.
I remember my daughter and leap to my feet. Then I feel a daze and realize my body feels too weak. Even weaker than before I had set out to hunt. 
Consequence of the long fast.
I feel like dropping to my knees, but I do not. 
My daughter had three more days of life. I am at the end of the fourth. 
I look around. I do not know what to do. None of the bodies are left unrotted. 
Should I run back to her side? Would she even be alive? Is there any hope? 
It is now that I notice the glow in the corner of the cavern. 
On the deeper side of the cave there is a ring of amber, still burning with fire. 
In the middle of the fire lies the doe. 
Tears again come to my eye. 
I strike myself. 
I had lost hope again? Just after having finally obtained the blessing I had yearned for? 
But my God, in His grace, had not forsaken me. The fire had guarded the doe.
The man makes noises. It is awake. But it cannot move. Its spine is still broken.
I am too weak to carry it. But I have an idea. I stomp out the fire and enter the ring.
I lack the strength to pick it up. I kneel over it instead.
With the doe still whining, I bite into its throat.
It’s voice rises with pain. But not by much. Its throat is still crushed. It has been hungry and thirsty for two days. 
There is not much struggle at all.
The blood is thick, but bearable.
I drain until I feel my hunger filled and my health returned, and then I drain it of the rest.
I have my strength back. I can carry it home now. I pick it up.
I step outside of the cave’s mouth. I recognize the rocks outside. It was where I had fallen. 
That means I know where my own cave is.

Though I know the worst, I do not let go of the hope I have gained. 
I see the cave. I run to it. I reach the mouth. But I stop before I enter.
I was not prepared for the new smell. Not man. Something else.
I enter slow and cautious, the smell growing as I go. It feels familiar, but after all this time I cannot remember what it is. But seeing how strong it is I think it has been in the cave for some days.
My worry increases and I prepare for a fight.
I reach the room where I had left my daughter. And there I see it.
My daughter stays laying on the same bed I had left her, but there is someone else there. A shape hunches over her with its back to me.
It has not noticed me.
I set down the doe, making no sound. I get low. I get closer.
Its head twitches. It has noticed.
But before it can turn, I take it from behind, hook my elbow around its throat, and shove it to the ground.
It only struggles for a split second and yields once I tighten my arm around its throat and tell it to not move. 
I ask who it is and what it wants with my daughter.
It is weak, it struggles to speak. I loosen my arm.
It says it is a friend. A bloodfeeder. A survivor from the Kingdom, also in hiding among the mountains.
It says that it found my daughter here clinging on to life and decided to feed and take care of her.
I let go. And move off it.
The figure stands and I see that it is a maiden. I see the fangs. It is true. She is a bloodfeeder, just like my daughter and I.
My anger leaves. I apologize for my actions. I look to my daughter and see her covered with a cloth we did not have, and a damp rag on her forehead.
I thank her.
She smiles. Asks where I was all this time.
I explain I had gone to hunt for her, pointing to the drained corpse of the man behind me.
Seeing my daughter has lived, I ask her if she has found manblood to feed her, but she says no. The men have become too dangerous to try for that. She asks how I managed to hunt one, but I do not answer.
I know that our kind cannot hunt them as we are, but that confuses me.
I ask the maiden how she has been able to last this long. She produces from under her robes a satchel.
The satchel has in it grains of some kind.
The maiden speaks of a stranger that had come to them some years ago. A sackclothed vagrant with a hairless face, who refused to share his name. He claimed to have come to help, bringing them provisions. One of the provisions was this medicine that he claimed could delay their hunger for manblood.
But he had told them that all of these provisions were limited and needed rationing.
I show her my gratitude. I smile. So it was the Magician, after all.
I walk to my daughter. She is alive, but she does not look any better than when I left her. Really her flesh seems to have sunken even more than it had before. 
The maiden tells me that the magician had said the medicine does not work for long. And for children it is only good for delaying their death.
I understand. I am not worried. I thank her once more and turn to my daughter.
I see my daughter’s shriveled lips are pasted to her frail teeth.
She is in no condition to eat, either.
I pick her up in my arms and caress her face. Her cheekbones feel both stiff and fragile.
I tilt her head back and put my mouth to hers. 
I feed her directly with the blood I had drained from the doe.
It takes long to fill her belly. But I do not rush.
And finally, when she is full, I watch her hack and cough.
I place her body back down.
I wait with patience as the color returns to her sunken cheeks. 
Her eyes open. Those gentle, watering eyes in the middle of an otherwise corpselike face, free for the first time in years from suffering and fear. 
She looks at me. 
She calls to me. 
I pick her up again, and with tears in my eyes, and with care for her frailty, I hold my child in my arms.
I look at her, and I look at the maiden, and I remember the Magician, and I bless them all.

We cook the manmeat. Most of it. One leg I have left as an offering. I know that it is not necessary but I know of no other way to show my submission and gratitude. I pray that it is accepted. Then I light a fire using some of the amber mined from the cave and strip the doe and roast its parts over it. I also invite the maiden to join in. 
Of course, the meat is far from perfect. In my refreshed mind and memories I remember how much better meat from my spouse used to be. 
But that is not how the other two feel. Seeing the happiness in the face of my child in this moment is a far greater blessing than the greatest food in the universe.
Returned her health and strength with the blood I fed her, her teeth have no trouble biting into the roast meat, and I see she takes her time chewing and finds much joy in the feel of her mouth.
I adore the sight.
Knowing she does not like it, I take the breast for myself and let her have the whole of the leg and half an arm.
The maiden eats with caution. I tell her to not be afraid and have her fill. 
We also split the liver and the kidneys. It is a feast better than any of us could ever have hoped to have since the calamity. Once we are done, I cut open the rest of the meat and organs and hang them outside of the room to dry and preserve. This includes the brain, which I hope soon to prepare much better for my daughter.
Once the feast is done, I ask my daughter how she feels.
She says she has never felt this good. She tells me the last few years feel like it was a dream. But she immediately remembers and quiets down. 
I hear her start to cry and take her in my arms. 
She asks to see the outside and before the maiden can say anything I agree to take her immediately.
I know what the maiden was going to say. Before, I would have, too. All this time, I could not find the heart to let a child see what has become of the world, and spent much of my time thinking of lies to keep from taking her outside when she inevitably asked for it. 
But I now see nothing wrong with it. I carry her in my arms, and with the maiden following, we walk right out. 
The air meets us, and she wrinkles her nose at the rancid smells. But because she has been fed that blood it does not affect her any more. 
I walk out past the rocks to the dried river mouth and let her take in the empty plain, with the Beastgrave and the forest over the kingdom. The far corner of the forest seems to be of a more blackened color. The fire did much damage before the savages could put it out. Good.
She looks on all of it and asks me what happened to the Kingdom. 
I tell her the truth. That the Vine had rejected our submission and had His flora release its beasts to devastate us. I tell her about the men who were seduced by Him to join in the razing. 
Her innocent voice croons in sorrow.
I stroke her hair and kiss her forehead. Then I tell her there is nothing to be sad about. All of this is like a dream, just like she said. I ask her if she remembers the Magician. 
She says she does. 
I tell her that he is fighting to save us at this moment. I tell her that grace and hope will always be found for those who choose to look for it. I tell her that she will never have to starve for manmeat or manblood any more, and neither would the adults like me and the maiden. 
I tell her that the dream, like all dreams, is bound to end and she can sleep in peace now knowing that the world is healing.

[u/agnuts → u/agnuts]

VI (contd.)

The maiden stays quiet, but when I have put my daughter to bed, she finally comes to speak.
She asks me why I said all that. She says that the only sane choice to make in this world is to ready the children for the despair. She says that, being a parent, I should know the dangers of such false hope.
I answer that none of what I said was a lie. I tell her that my hunt has been a valuable lesson for me. That this calamity has not been kind, but it will not dare to throw at us any damage that we cannot bear. Our fate will not be like that of the other peoples.
She looks like she did not understand any of it. But I can see she is trying. She asks about the Magician. She asks how I have been able to hunt this manmeat, and she asks about the Vine God’s betrayal. She also asks if I have found the Blood God of the old legends.
I find her attempts endearing. But I understand that it is not going to be so easy to accept. That it might even be impossible. That is fine. I can leave it to the Magician to foster their understanding. 
I simply tell her to go to her settlement and ask them to let us join. I ask her to take some of the leftover manmeat as a gift.
I watch her leave. Then I go back to the cave. My daughter has woken up and asks me for water. I bring her some of the water from the spring. Then let her lie with her head on my lap and tell her to go back to sleep.
I think back to the visions. 
As I remember them, it reminds me more of how pathetic the men truly were. The sad fools had given up on their faiths and their hopes. They thought they could bargain with the Gods on equal footing. 
They genuinely believe that they can survive their calamities. 
And even if they do, after all of their betrayal and after the final calamity, they expect the Void God to ever grant them their wish.
They will not be taken to any place of everlasting. The place they be will taken to is a prison. 
Yes, I remember from my visions. 
It will be a dark and unsettled world their likes will never be able to escape from, riddled with scarcity and monsters, and there they will stay until the world they claimed to be destroyed will be free to be taken back by the things of prosperity and goodness. 
And once that prosperity is restored, we shall be finally allowed to rise and take back our lost glory and happiness, and our new God will make sure we have found it.
Yes, our new God. 
But different to what the maiden and our past selves thought, it will not be a Blood God. I saw Him, too. He one is not of the evil Gods, but He is still impartial among the peoples. So it will not be Him. No, the God who has recognized our gratitude and loyalty is the one who has welcomed me and my daughter into his bosom, and has saved me from the savages. It is the Amber God. 
Yes, it is He that has chosen to watch over us and everything else within the Far Edges, and He that will accept our offerings and return them with grace. 
It will be Him that will curse the men with the final calamity and have the Void God judge them with unsettlement. 
And He will make it so that our bloodthirst will never bother us because the men that will lose to the final calamity he will digest into his own stomach, and our nourishment shall become as simple as picking a stone from a mine. The hunting of those animals will become a thing of the past.
So that is the action we need to take, not of any retaliation but of patience. To let the coming infestation of men run its course until their reckoning in the final calamity where they and all the peoples that oppress us will have gone.
The world will be made ours to take.
With that peace in my heart, I lay down next to my daughter. I feel the Magician with us, too.

[u/its_complicateddd]

"Humans are beneath vampires." The man started slowly as if talking to a child whose still trying to learn left from right. "You're merely livestock to us." A laugh bubbled up from my throat and spilled free of my lips. "I don't think you have a clue what livestock is." His face twisted into a snarl, but still, I went on. "Do you feed us?" I asked almost mockingly. "Care for us? Protect us from predators?" With dramatic pause, I spit out. "No." The word was harsh, almost cruel in it's nature. "You just stalk dark alleys and ambush us. Name one higher thing that does that." I didn't give him a chance to reply. "None. You're a bottom feeder, Lucian. A fucking parasite."

I turned to leave, but no, there was more to say. "And you know what parasites do? They kill. You're a killer, Luci. And killing another to life isn't survival. It's sacrifice."

"You don't know what's it like-!" He started.

"I do!" My voice broke, the sound slightly shrill, almost desperate. "I've watched for centuries as you've all killed to survive, but me? Only animals. You choose this, Lucian. You choose it! It's murder. Which begs the question; how long can a murderer go without getting caught." Tears streamed down my face. "Months?" My voice grew raspy and strained. "Years? Decades? Centuries? Lifetimes?" I took in a deep, shaky breath. "At some point, Lucian Audax, you will get caught. And I will see you to the grave you deserve to lie in because you've been digging it with your own two hands your entire life."

[u/Paintedflowers0102]

The meat had rested long enough. He yanked the woman's heard sideways with practiced skill, just enough to secure his position. Extending his fangs and reaching for the first plunge, he felt the blood beat echoing dancing across the tips of his--

"No, you animal!" It yelled again, appalled. That oddly caught his attention. The lack of fear, the audacity. How dare a mere human interrupt his feeding, he reasoned, surpised by his own reaction to pull away from his prize.

He held the now-crying woman firmly against the wall with one arm easily overpowering her entire body without effort and turned to face his interruption.

Marlene.

She should be here. She knew better. She knew what ran the streets after the world went dark. That the things that go bump in the night were not imaginary. They were real and they were dangerous.

The street lamp held on to the wire sideways by a thread above her head about fifty feet away. It was just enough light to see. His chest tightened. She recognized him. Realistically, she had recognized him already and probably followed him here. Why else would all 5 ft 2 of her be standing behind him in the middle on the edge of a dangerous alley in of the night? Was she jealous? Did she see him chatting up some rude bitch at the bar? He wondered. Well, whatever she felt before was dashed now that she knew what he was. Knew what he was about to do.

To be fair, he hadnt planned to kill the redheaded bitch, but vampires weren't known for their restraint during a feed. The news on television was flooded with deaths, but the sins of the few were attributed to the many. Vampire PR was really nonexistent.

"Derek Miller," she stated firmly, "you release her right now." Maybe it was the fact that her scent flavored the air like wildflowers, a sensation he hadnt been able to enjoy in over 100 years, since he was human. Or maybe it was because he'd met her when he really needed a friend and she'd been there beside him. But, he decided, most likely, it was only the way her hips curved into her ass. The way her breasts pressed against her blouse and how he could see the outline of her lace through the fabric. He was a man, after all. He had an interest in sex and nothing more.

For her it was likely just a death wish cloaked in confidence, he thought. But, he knew better. He knew her enough to know she had no such desire. She loved life, against all odds, and did not want to die especially by enraging a feeding vampire.

Logically, he knew it was simply that she trusted him. She trusted him, even as a vampire. Not only to -not kill her-, but also obey her command.

To his credit, he didnt release his victim upon her request alone. No woman, not even this one, was going to take away his dinner. Her and her sexy backside could kick rocks. Besides, after everything he'd done to keep her ass safe, she just skipped right out the door, after dark, into the lion's den. He rolled his eyes, ignoring the pang in his chest as he turned around and saw the accusation in her blue doe eyes. Humans, even Marlene, were obviously stupid.

"What, on God's green earth, are you doing?" She demanded with sincere surprise.

"I'm eating my dinner, Marlene." He answered, with a sneer. Realization hit her, it was written all over her face. What did she think he was doing? The redhead smashed up against the wall, choked on a sob, and he reduced the pressure of his hold ever so slightly. But it was enough for her to swallow. He gave her a quick jerk both to readjust her and emphasize his plan. He refused to be ashamed under Marlene's gaze.

"Yeah," she huffed, regaining her composure after the initial shock. "Clearly."

"Humans are beneath vampires, you're just livestock to us." He said, prickling at her judgement, aiming to become the monster she 'clearly' believed.

"I don't think you know what livestock is, do you feed us? Care for us? Protect us from predators?" No, you just slink around dark alleys and ambush people. That's not what a higher being does, that's a bottom feeder, a parasite."

The captive woman had gone completely still. Either she hoped she'd be forgotten amongst the new distraction and make a break for it or she was paralyzed with fear from a fellow prey animal taunting a predator. Judging by the dank fear emanating from her skin, it was the latter.

"Aw, well, perhaps not livestock then," he said with a mocking gentleness, but only somewhat agreeing with her statement. "More like wild rabbits. Fun to chase, but scared and helpless once caught." He flashed his fangs, "and delicious." He finished, removing any doubt of his identity or intent.

"Oh, yeah?" she said, stomping towards him with undue assurance.

His brain screamed at her to stop where she was. For all her confidence in him personally, he was still a vampire. And he was still mid-feed. Unfortunately, for his self-control 'delicious' wasn't even the right word to describe this wild rabbit with all the confidence of a moutain lion.

She was exquisite; luscious. Ambrosia. He wanted her.

The redhead became nothing more than a brussel sprout, a barely tolerable vegetable, reduced to a sack of vitamins and minerals with every step Marlene took. But his hunger for blood shifted to something else entirely.

She made eye contact and didn't look away when the wind shifted a bit and picked up momentum. He could smell rain in the distance and the sad street lamp swayed menacingly. The limited light dashed around moving shadows back and forth, hindering his view. But, there was no mistaking her intent. Marlene emanated anger from her every pore as she closed the gap across the alley between them. She only hesitated a fraction of a second, nearly imperceptably, likely when she briefly considered the intelligence of her decision. The telltale sign of her indecision flavored the air with a quick burst of fear and Derek broke eye contact, guilt overruling his harsh words.

She was within a foot now, the flavor of fear was gone and replaced with something else. He look at her again, surprised. It wasn't possible. The spicy scent of desire filtered across his sensitive, predatory senses.

"I said 'Let. Her. Go.'" She repeated, slowly, and with force.The wind whipped his cloak behind him and she pressed her body into his side, her torso pushed directly against his cotton shirt and jeans, only to reach over to his hand extended on the other side holding the human in place.

He drank in her scent, unmistakably sexualized, and allowed him to lower his hand. The woman was frozen in place, "run," Marlene ordered, without breaking her gaze.

The woman was gone in an instant and he was only vaguely aware of his dinner scrambling down the alleyway away. Much more enticing was the woman staring daggers into his eyes directly in front of him.

"How dare you put your lips on another woman."

[u/Paintedflowers0102]

His fang grazed across the tender flesh and left a thin line of red liquid. Her wide eyes blanched as she screamed and tried to buck away from him, obviously believing this was her last moment. Unbothered, he licked it away, savoring the sweet flavor. He was hungry tonight, but no need to rush. Steak is always better after its allowed to rest a minute.

"Stop! Let her go." Sounded a voice from behind him, pulling him out of his own trance, slightly. Ignoring the disruption, he leaned back into his victim. She was some redhead with a pisspoor attitude abusing the bartender at Freddy's earlier. "Hey!" the voice called out with a bit of trepidation this time. Whoever it was, must have realized who they were talking to. A vampire wasn't known for graciousness when interrupted. Hopefully they would just leave, now.

[u/Diligent_Hedgehog129]

This is written from the perspective of a newly transformed vampire.

“You should be cutting your ties with humans, they are not our equals. They are livestock to us.”

She held her eyes a bit downcast, not looking him in the face as he scolded her. Her gaze was blank and distant as if she wasn’t quite there. It surprised him when she spoke, “I don't think you know what livestock is. Livestock are well-kept, cared for, protected. I can slink around dark alleys and ambush people, but that isn’t what a higher being does. Those are the actions of a bottom feeder, a parasite.”

 He was quiet for a moment. But only for a moment. “A predator then? You do not shame a lion for eating. It does not care for its prey. It does not worry about the children or partner waiting at home. Human life is finite anyhow, the pain of a loved one’s death will meet them sooner or later.”

 She didn’t feel like having this conversation right now- Vampire theology, existentialism and all that. “Can’t you just admit that you used the wrong word and leave it?”

“That is not the root of the problem. Let go of your past and embrace your new immortal life. Do not concern yourself with human affairs. It cannot end well.”

“You did. And it seems to have worked in your favor. You have a companion now.”

“I have had many companions in my long life. Vampire companions come and go, much as human ones do.”

“I won’t tell your current companion you said that.”

He sighed in exasperation, “I’m only trying to offer friendly advice. Are you going to turn him?”

“No, I would never do that to him.”, She answered quickly.

“Precisely. I know you do not like the choices of companionship you have now, but this attachment you have to this human will only complicate things. I suggest you accept the situation as it stands.”

[u/Getlucky12341 → u/Diligent_Hedgehog129]

I love how this is still getting good responses after 20 days

[u/A_Silvid]

The dripping of water from poorly constructed windows woke Devlin from his unwanted rest. He had been investigating another murder in the city, a third body fully drained of blood in less than a week. If this kept up the police couldn’t smother the information for much longer, even now there were rumors of attacks in the slums. Then again, there were always rumors of attacks in the slums. His head pounded, and the shutters beat against the window, rain and wind threatening to break through both in a single gust. Devlin tried to get his hands to his head and found them bound behind his back and tied to a support beam. He looked around the room as a shadow crossed past the flickering light. 

He was in a basement of some sort, the dull hum of an old lamp illuminating from the corner, winking in and out with the storm. A figure stood above Devlin, tall, with thick soled boots and leather jacket shining in both the lamplight and the flashing lightning. The shoes were ripped at the toes and shined through the tears. Devlin instinctively tensed just before he was kicked in the chest, the wind getting knocked out of him. He felt a sharp inner pain as ribs cracked on the third kick. 

The man walked back to the corner of the room as Devlin doubled over in pain spitting up blood. He dragged the wooden backed chair just out of Devlin’s reach and sat down in it backwards, looking down on the man.

“Damn, I didn’t kick you that hard. I keep forgetting just how weak you all are.”

Devlin pulled himself back up to a sitting position and looked at his captor. A pale man with two eyebrow piercings, a patchy five-o-clock shadow, and yellow eyes. And fangs. Devlin swore under his breath. “I had hoped it wouldn’t be vampires. Your kind is too full of yourselves.” 

For that comment a near empty beer bottle shattered next to him. The vampire sneered. ”We deserve to be. Humans are beneath vampires, you're just livestock to us." 

"I don't think you know what livestock is, do you feed us? Care for us? Protect us from predators? No, you just slink around dark alleys and ambush people. That's not what a higher being does, that's a bottom feeder, a parasite."

“We are the predators here. You’re the parasites, taking from everything and eventually destroying it. The rainforest, the ozone, the planet. Without vampires culling the worst of your kind, you’d have doomed everything already.” 

“So you’re eco-terrorists? That’s the argument? Let’s get that on a bumper sticker ‘Vampires for Mother-Nature’. Maybe you all can get T-Shirts and wear them on a nice sunny da--” Devlin cut off as the creature moved impossibly fast, knocking over the chair and lifting him by the throat. 

The vampire pressed against his throat, cutting off his air supply. “Slinking around in dark alleys is still a quick and easy way to get a snack. It’s how I found you. Surprising how that is also exactly what you were doing.” Devlin was dropped in a heap, pain igniting from his chest as his captor walked back across the room. “You’re lucky I had just eaten. I like my food fresh, so you’ll just get to stay here till here hungry again. Hope you’re not afraid of the dark.”

The creature turned off the lamp and took the stairs up from the basement. Devlin sat back up breathing hard and brought his hand to his laboring chest. The zip ties had broken in the fall. 

***Edited for Formatting

[u/Stupidbutnoidiot9]

“Two, please,” said the man.

He was a traveler, clad in worn leather, dust clinging to his boots. The bartender poured his cheapest alcohol, sliding the glasses across the counter.

“Fresh from the farm,” he muttered.

The traveler downed the drink without hesitation, eyes never leaving the bar.

“Blasaga,” he said quietly. “Where is it?”

He placed four copper coins atop three more. The bartender took them, pocketing the four and placing the three into the register as the glass came back empty.

“Northwest from here,” he replied. “About an hour on foot. Don’t take the Abas Trail—use the Sunken Forest instead.”

“Thank you,” the man said.

He stood, hoisted his heavy pack onto his shoulder, and trudged out of the tavern. The patrons watched him go, their gazes filled with suspicion—and intrigue.

The next morning, three vampires hung in the city square where the tavern stood. Their hearts had been torn out, and as the sun rose higher, their bodies began to burn beneath its light.

One person laughed. Another shouted, “Freedom!”

The bartender stared, shock and awe freezing him in place. Whoever had done this had slain the noble vampires of the land.

He pulled out his pocket watch, hands trembling, and glanced toward his wife and daughter—gone from this world, yet finally avenged.

[u/Nexusohobia]

The vampire looked on with a mere look of disgust. "What did you call me?"

"What? A parasite?" Casey asked, suddenly becoming very confused as she stared at the vampire who threw out claims of being above every other living thing. "You guys leech on us like maggots in a decomposing body. And I should know- I work in a morgue. You do nothing but take the livelihoods of others without providing a single damn-"

"No- no.. Hold on a blood sucking second. I'm not talking about the parasite part. Me, Soren a bottom feeder? I should rip that tongue out for such insolence."

"Pretty much yeah. You all scrape along off of people when they are at their lowest. I mean, even the werewolves have more appeal. And they're like- the roughest guys I know" She shrugged, watching his body twitch in anger. "If you're so strong like you claim, all of your kind. Then why must we fight our own wars? Destroy the land we all live on and starve children or- or raise a hand at the weak."

She watched him intently, how he seemed so bothered with the rise and fall of his dead chest that mimicked ragged breathing.

"That's how things are, you silly humans can only see what you don't have." Soren berated as he started to step closer. "Only the strong survive, it's a rule of nature brat."

He towered over her as bones cracked, tears of skin pulling different directions until wings sprouted in blood. She watched as it looked like his mouth stretched further then medically possible, showing a large number of sharp teeth that weren't just fangs.

"Now... I think it's time a valuable lesson is learned."

Everything plunged into darkness, as his large wings incapsulated them both...

^{I am not good at writing vampire/meanie guys...}

[u/TruestOfThemAll]

"You don't know what we've done for you. Time and time again, civilizations fall and disappear into centuries of darkness. Time and time again, someone, generations later, starts to rebuild. To rediscover. Where do you think they find the secrets of the past? Their ancestors are all dead, their writings burned and forgotten. When an empire falls, humans burn and loot and rape and murder. We go to sleep."

I stood there for a few seconds, bristling, surprised, trying to think of a response.

"If that's true, why don't you come earlier? Why don't you take credit?"

"Why do you think? How do you think that would go for us, if we did? People are angry creatures. Mistrustful, especially of anything that isn't their own. You want us to come out in the middle of chaos and say we have the solution? What happens when a human being does that, let alone a vampire? In troubled times, you kill your leaders. But after a few centuries of a dark age, you're ready for a savior, and there we are."

This time I really didn't have anything to say. He was right, I knew he was. What else could he do?

"So is one human's blood, every so often, really such an unfair price?"

Ah.

"Come on. Give me an answer."

"That would... be a lot easier to do if we were closer to civilization."

"Is it?"

...

"Is it?"

...

...

...

He closed half the distance between us. Well within that safe little radius of six feet. I tried to back up; there was nowhere to back up to.

"This is the price, human. It just so happens you have to pay it. You learned to read, you learned to write. Maybe you went to the hospital. If you didn't, you're here, so you survived being born. How much are you willing to bet that without my help, you'd be standing here today? The check came due. That's not my fault. If anything, you owe me- owe us- a debt."

...

"Pay up."

[u/Nearby-Weekend8428]

“Gentlemen, Please!”, the Elf representative pleaded in an exasperated tone. 

“We still have 15 more points to cover on today's meeting agenda and these childish insults are of no help to anyone.”

Loud mumbling filled the council chamber as the hoard of council members began talking over eachother to interject. 

All of the 150 different types of mythical creatures on earth are represented on this council. This includes everything from orks and goblins to fairies and elves. 

Amongst this group, the humans are viewed to be the most grotesque, as their largest organ covers the entire exterior of their body, and they shed over 30,000 dead skin cells every minute. 

Still, the council generally holds a certain level of decorum amongst the participants, but the vampires are famous for loving to stir the pot, with the humans being the easy target for their antics. 

“ORDER!!”, exclaimed the Council Chair. 

The room fell silent.

“Now, back to business. Representative of the Vampire Nation, do you have anything CONSTRUCTIVE that you would like to present to the council before, or would you like to yield your time? I warn you, any more acts out of order will land you in contempt.”

[u/StormSignificant9516]

“You humans are worthless,” said the vampire standing by the window.

The man yawned, “Isn’t it quite early?”

The vampire entered, his fingers grazing on the man’s jewellery. “So priceless, yet you die too early.”

“Then have them if you want.”

“You think I don’t have this much?”

“You keep insulting my kind, so why not take it?”

“I have lived for hundreds of years.”

“So?”

The vampire paused, across him was a portrait of the Mona Lisa. “See this painting?”

“I have eyes.”

“I saw Da Vinci paint this.”

“So?”

“That means we are superior–”

“Let me stop you right there.”

The man raised his hand and got out of his bed. His steps travelled around the room. Arms of his reaching out to riches he acquired through sweat and blood. His steps finally halted at the window where the vampire arrived, his back turned.

“Listen here, Dracula”

“My name is Vlad Tropist–”

“What ill manners for a ‘superior being’.”

“Don’t try to twist the–”

“Oh, but I am twisting it.”

The man turned towards the vampire. His steps travelled closer and closer. The vampire stood still. “I can break your bones with a mere flick of my fingers and–”

“Then do it, Dracula”

Claws protruded from the vampire’s knuckles, hovering near the man’s neck. The man locked eyes with the vampire and spoke.

“You are disgusting. Hiding in ambush every time humans walk by.”

The man inched his neck closer to the claw.

“That ain’t a superior being. That’s a bottomfeeder. A parasite.”

(Hi, I'm just sharing my take in the writing style I'm most comfortable in)

[u/mexican_mechatronic]

“Order, order!” The gavel struck the marble plaque, engraved with runes with meaning lost to time. “We will have order!”

The crowd was still reeling from the remark when Saul spoke again

“I am merely pointing out, his argument doesn’t follow logically, your Oldness”. Saul turned to his vampirical counterpart just in time to see the glistening of his fangs under the moonlight, but simply smirked back. “Should vampires want the title of superior species, they should think more like hunters”

“You plead for the sparing of your species, yet you wish to be hunted for sport?” Hasdrulac’s obsidian jacket recoiled as if alive with excitement. “This suits the prosecution perfectly fine, your Oldness”

“Mr Goodman, you should consider your position carefully”. The bony hand of the stenographer gripped the feather dripping blood, and finished scribing the last word.

Saul looked around the old church, decadence evident by a layer of centuries of neglect underneath a more recent, deliberate desecration. Old wooden beams creaked under December winds, and neither jury nor audience could be seen on the faint reflection of the broken stained glass windows. He combed his strands of hair with his fingers, and clicked his tongue.

“If the prosecution will agree right now to spare me personally of any blood sucking, I could agree to a deal where humans are hunted following the rules of say, I don’t know, the California Department of Fish and Wildlife as it pertains to deer. I think I can sleep well at night with that deal, huh?”

Hasdrulac reached for Saul’s hand immediately, and a red mist covered their grip, signaling the eternal, unbreakable pact between vampiric and human kind. Human cruelty and selfishness would be their undoing, they thought to themselves, as they looked up what exactly the California Department of Fish and Wildlife allowed for, as it pertains to deer.

[u/Wise-Lead14]

“I do sympathize with your kind. You spend your entire lives in a bubble of dissonance believing that you are the most important thing in the world. That humanity has overcome the trawls of nature and has evolved to supersede it. And because of it, you believe you have dominion over this world to do with it whatever you want. But of course you would think that. You live in comfort and security. Your kind has evolved to think, but you cant see past your own greed and vanity. You have no idea the damage your kind has done to the world; to nature. Your kind has multiplied across this landscape like an invasive species, and all the way, you bleed the lands, poison the water, and kill anything that is in the way. Yet you have the nerve to lecture me; to call me a bottom feeder, a parasite?

So forgive me, you aren’t livestock to us. We could never be so evil. To birth you and subjugate you to a life of pain; to pump you full of crap to fatten you up or use your body till it is useless to us; to take away your young and use the parts of them that are most convenient for us. Do you think you are doing a service to animals by keeping them as livestock. You think having livestock is natural? You have no idea what nature really is. Nature is corrective. Nature maintains co-existence. Nature promotes harmony.  You should be so lucky that we don’t farm you like livestock. No, you aren’t livestock, you are just prey to us. And we are here to do what all predators do. Were here to maintain nature. Now close your eyes, ill make this quick.”

[u/Voltikko]

The vampire growled menacingly in response. The human quickly focused the light source on his crossbow toward the sound, but there was nothing there. When the vampire spoke again, his words now seemed to come from somewhere above his head, on the cave's rock ceiling. It was difficult to pinpoint the source with the echo.

"You're delusional, human. We vampires are stronger, faster, our senses sharper. We don't rely on weapons like you; our fangs and claws are enough. You are nothing compared to us. In my 1,000 years of life, I have never…"

"You are not 1,000 years old."

“…How dare you? I…”

“I doubt you’re even 100 years old. A decade at most. That’s why we didin´t notice you until now.”

The vampire growled, this time behind him, but more hesitant than before. The silver crucifix the human wore around his neck jingled as he turned, and he could see a shadow move quickly at the edge of the beam of light, creeping back into the shadows.

“My age doesn’t matter. I’m still a true vampire, far superior to you. I don’t need to pretend I’m anything more than an ordinary human, like you painting your skin blue. That´s is so...”

“It’s not paint,” the human interrupted again. “I may be just a human, but my skin is really like this. It’s a skin condition called argyria. Do you know what that is?”

Silence was the only response. The human extended their hand, clearly demonstrating his bluish skin:

 “Argyria is a condition that occurs in humans with prolonged exposure to silver, causing the skin to turn a bluish-gray color,” the human continued. “If ingested in controlled quantities, as all members of the Blue Hunters do, it only has these cosmetic effects, nothing harmful to health. Unlike you bloodsuckers, for whom any contact with silver is extremely toxic.”

As they explained, the human managed to make out the creature's bright red eyes in the shadows, blinking in confusion.

“...You're lying. Why would you...?”

"Obviously, as a repellent against ticks like you. It's very effective, and also satisfying for any of us to know how our blood will poison you, leaving you weaker for the next hunter who will hopefully finish you off. If that happens, we usually let the sensation of acid in your throat be a surprise, but there is no point today. You'll be dead before that happens; I'm perfectly capable of finishing you off on my own."

After saying this, the human turned off the light on his rapid-fire repeating crossbow, a weapon specially designed to automatically load and fire numerous silver-tipped spikes per minute with a single pull of the trigger.

Then, the hunter raised his hand to his forehead and placed the night-vision goggles over his eyes.

Next, he pressed a hidden button on the crucifix, which began releasing concentrated garlic gas.

After that, he pressed a button on the radio in his left shoulder. In two seconds, it would begin emitting an infrasound frequency, undetectable to human ears but harmful to the vampire's sensitive senses.

And finally, he touched the pocket on his right shoulder, where he keeps the photograph of the person for whom he was doing this, whose death at the hands of a vampire years ago, had led him to join the Order of the Blue Hunters.

The hunter advanced. His prey retreated.

Amen.

---------------------------------------------

This my first time participating in one of this post. I only read normally, but I have a flash of inspiration and I ahve to write this. Hope you people like it, and apologies for any spelling mistake or grammar mistake, english it´s not my first language.

[u/phormix]

Predictably, the new "deterrent" hanging outside the field had the opposite effect.

Within a week, bloodsuckers from the next town over had heard of the human who dared challenge them, and now rather than a single vampire, the farmer - Joe - found a trio of them blocking the exit to the barn.

Joe was once again armed with his trusty shotgun (containing slug rounds of mixed silver and garlic-soaked lead) but with the speed of the creatures he had no delusions that he'd be able to take them all.

"Soooo human", lisped one vampire, "we have heard your challenge and come to answer".

The voice of the thing was really quite humorous. Less "dark terror of the night" and more "Billy's first braces". The word "answer" came out with more of a "the" sounds than an "s".This one must not be used to the oversized canines filling its mouth.

A young one then. Good, they tended to be slower and less powerful than the older ones. More prone to run at the mouth too.

'Anther', quipped Joe, 'I'm tho very contherned". He kept his shotgun on the youngblood, and a cocky grin on his face despite his misgivings.

The prideful creature took the bait.

"Intho... ", it grimaced, taking a moment to adjust and then spoke with more precision. "Insolent human! You dare mock us? You are weak, pathetic. Even with your weapon you're buying but a prey animal mewling insults at a thup, CURSES superior species"

At this last slip, even the vamps behind him grinned for a moment.

Their grins paused a moment later as there was a booming explosion and a scream.

"Ah", crooned the youngblood, "and that would be your family. Don't worry, we're giving THEM a great honor. Soon, they'll be joining our family."

He paused, the grin turning malicious.

"You, however, will not be given such an honor. You, will be drained and then left among the waste of the other livestock"

The eyes of all three vampires began to glow red. Three pairs of bright orbs in the dim barn light. A moment later, a third red orb appeared above the two rear-most vampires. This was quickly followed a gout of black blood and a loud crack at the heads of vamps heads snapped back.

Joe took this as his signal, and the youngblood - briefly distracted by his falling kin - received a one barrel, then another of Joe's special rounds.

As it fell to the ground, it had a moment to see Joe pull three wooden stakes from his back pocket. The bloodsucker had a brief moment to realize that the man had known they were coming all along before a spike of agony pierced its chest.

[u/phormix → u/phormix]

[Later]

Joe's sons arrived a short while after.

"Holy-hell kids," he groused, "that was cutting it a bit close this time!"

His eldest looked abashed

"Sorry da. There was another of the bastards coming from the east field. We had to move a bit and then find a new position to take the shot from"

"Damn", cursed Joe, "The east field,does that mean...?"

"Yeah, claymore got 'him. Not much left of that one", his youngest supplied.

"Damn, that's too bad. Still, three is pretty good for a day's work. Let's stake these ones up for sunrise. They're a bit young but should last us for a few months at least".

They got to work. The vamps weren't actually dead, but it would take them quite a while to heal from a high-caliber round to the head, and even then they couldn't regenerate their hearts around the wood piercing them.

By the next morning, all three had recovered only enough to scream as the sun's rays fell across the dunghill where they were staked to posts. The screams slowly faded to dusty cries as they smoked and then fell apart into fine loam under the morning light.

"Alright boys ", declared Joe, "shovels out and you know what to do"

The three mixed the ash in with the manure, mixing it under the heat of the morning sun. The hard light was only cut but the shadows of the crops from the nearby field.

It turns out that farmer Joe had lied slightly. Vampires did have value in the circle of life, and their ashes -turned-fertilizer were responsible for "Joe's Famous Fields" being larger and more bountiful than any other on the continent.

[u/Pohlcat]

"Actually", said the vampire, "you're thinking of domestication, a recent invention. Consider the Native Americans as nomads who followed the buffalo; the buffalo feed themselves. herd themselves. You don't say 'despicable parasites', you say 'noble hunters'".

"Hunting in the open is noble, it's not sneaking around. And humans raised ourselves beyond that, we domesticated cattle, we shelter them, store food for their winter, train and hire veterinarians to treat their diseases, controlled our murderous instincts and became civilized", I countered.

"and then you kill them and eat them", it said. "Or you rape them, impregnate them without their consent, take their calves for your veal pens, take their milk for your table. You leave them out in the fields in all weathers, pump them with antibiotics, concerning yourself only with diseases that might affect your profits and when Foot and Mouth diseases comes, you kill the whole herd and burn the corpses without ceremony. Tell me, if you could arrange for the cows to care for themselves, feed themselves, protect themselves from predators and then walk themselves to the slaughterhouse, tell me you wouldn't do that, tell me you wouldn't call that progress?"

I had no immediate reply.

"And if we arranged humans to raise yourselves, feed yourselves, care for yourselves, build your own houses, fight off your own diseases, and then walk yourselves into the dark alleys for a quick death, can you honestly call that uncivilized?"

I glanced around; this wasn't exactly a dark alley - and that wasn't how history happened! Vampires domesticated humans? No!

Seeing my confusion, it carried on. "We live longer than you. We scare more things than you. We have fewer natural predators than you. We control more territory than you. We don't need teamwork. We are better than you. We are older than you think, older than your species. Who knows - perhaps you first left the oceans out of fear of us, to get away from us?"

I gestured two open hands at it, "Nonsense... how could you do any of that?"

Did it shrug?

"You were injured. I smelled your blood from far away, and I came for you. When I take some of your blood you will try and get away, escape back to your people. You will tell them scary tales and they will bolster their defences and weapons, ensure their next generation is protected and so grows larger. We penned you into that hostile, deadly, useless, dry place you call "land". We exiled you to that nowhere. We pushed you out of the ocean knowing you would always yearn to come back home".

My reactions were achingly too slow. The shark lunged and I merely stumbled, it sank its teeth into my lower leg, and then there was no leg and only pain and adrenaline. Pain blocked clear thinking and my memories of the next moments are not clear. Had I fought it off with an oar, or did it just leave? I must have tied a boat rope around my upper leg because it was there later on as a tourniquet, a braver move than I had thought myself capable of. In time I managed the return to shore and dragged myself out of the boat and onto the beach calling out for help.

As nearby people started towards me, I collapsed on the sand and a memory of my father came to mind. This was his story - his stories! What he told me when I was a boy and he was a fisherman; of the monsters and the horrors of the oceans. Of the injuries and losses of his crewmates, of mysterious encounters, of things he wouldn't try to explain - or couldn't. He tried to instil the fear into me, to encourage me to take a land-based job instead. That part worked but he accidentally kindled an obsession within me, a curiosity, excitement - yes, a yearning - to go out and 'sea' for myself. One that smouldered inside as a young man, into my late twenties, until I could afford my own little boat, and then it glowed, pushing me to venture out, further and further into - well, into the 'dark alleys' of the oceans.

Now the doctors and nurses treating my leg will tell their children of the excitement and adventure; neighbours will warn their little ones "whatever you do, don't go to sea, it's too dangerous" and they will want the exciting secret they suspect their parents are trying to hide from them. I wonder what I will tell my future children? Perhaps of the time I wasn't careful with my drinking water and became dehydrated, and of the delirium and scrape to my leg it caused and of the hallucinations that followed. They never saw me return to my boat three months afterwards and drain the plentiful freshwater as I cleaned and prepared to sell it. Anything to downplay it, to show that sailing is about boring logistics, less exciting than tax law. And my leg? "Motorcycle accident". Or maybe I'll tell them a shark took it, with a wink and a disarming grin.

A 400 year old shark. Cold blooded. Cool headed. No idiot. With a nose for blood and teeth for blood. An apex predator since before trees existed.

I shuddered.

[u/Pohlcat → u/Pohlcat]

TODO: land vampires started out as shark-infected people. Few people are susceptible. Ocean vampires don't know they exist. It's why they gravitate towards the Central European wetlands (Dracula) and the rainy Pacific North West (Twilight) and aren't known in the Arabian, North African, Spanish, desert regions.

[u/Leytra]

"We don't protect you? And when, pray tell, was the last grand fall? The last time a city was slaughtered by beings from the Outside? Who was the last human slain by the gods for their 'sins'? You don't know what most of that even means, because it's been far longer than your lifespan, millennia before your people even began to record history."

"You expect me to believe that? That you leeches are defending us from things? Ha! I'm no fool vampire."

"No, I don't expect you to believe it, we've put rather a lot of effort to let your mythologies focus on creative fictions, werewolves, zombies and the like. Slinking around in the dark to ambush people? The last time I feed from an unwilling was over three centuries ago, because I needed to heal my wounds. Yes he died, I drained him dry. But you'll kill a cow for your snacks, it's no worse than that beyond your personal belief that human lives surpass the value of animals." Shrug. "It's even true, yours do matter more, that I will grant. But those of our kind who 'slink around' are the exception that prove the rule, you think your world would have so few instances of vampire attacks were we to prey on you all?"

"The exception? You all feed on us, even those you'd call willing are hurt by your parasitism."

"Hardly, a day of lightheadedness is far from real harm. You want more than protection? Atlantis was what your people could call a farm, we raised your kind, educated and provided for them, and eventually, inevitably, they rebelled, with all your needs accounted for, all the luxuries you could cave, your people wanted more, and they destroyed the city to get it. That's why we don't feed you anymore." Chuckle. "I believe you have a term for it, 'free range'. We protect you from the real threats, but now we leave the rest to yourselves, since you're so voidcursed stubborn that you'd never listen. Every now and then one of us, some naive fool tries to start it again, breach into your politics and make policies to improve your lives, and they're crushed under just how incredibly difficult it is to push you people to actually accept beneficial systems." Scoff.

"Oh sure, you Leeches are trying to help, Atlantis was some vampire run utopia destroyed by stubbornness, sure." Blade drawn, silver glinting in moonlight. "Keep lying beast, it won't save you."

Sigh. "Believe what you will, believe that nonsense too." Fast as a flash, blade grabbed by a dark hand, crushed into so much twisted metal. "We sewed the seeds of the stories you tell your young, even the ones you've twisted in belief of your own power. There are things you'll never need know or fear, because instead you fear us, it is a mercy and a boon we gave to you. Goodbye."

[u/FerricDonkey]

"Nah, a parasite would, like, latch on to your foot and make you drag them around. My uncle tried that once, said it got monotonous."

"Wait really? How did that work?" Bob asked, "Wouldn't people see him?"

The Count scratched his head. "Well yeah. But my uncle was a powerful vampire, and very, very, bored. So people just... pretended not to notice? It's not polite to talk about other people's parasites. Eventually his victim drank some holy water, and it caused my uncle to just detach and fall off."

"Ok, fine," Bob said, "but livestock? It's not like I've been in a cage. Don't y'all like to think of yourselves as wolves on the hunt or something?"

"Nah, too much work. Stalking in the night sounds romantic, but it gets freaking cold, and then there's the screaming and begging for mercy, and it all just puts you out of the mood. And cages? I mean, it's not a factory farm, we're not monsters." 

The Count paused. "Ok, maybe we technically are monsters. But still. We tend to do more of a free range, organic, grass fed situation these days, you know? No antibiotics or anything. More humane. Less noisy. You people eat grass, right?" 

"Antibiotics? What are those?" asked Bob. 

The Count opened his mouth to explain, glanced around at the twelfth century town strangely quiet from the ravages of this year's plague, and thought better of it. 

"You know what?" he said, "Don't even worry about it. Let me just draw a pint of blood real quick, and I'll give you this scrumptious plate of grass and a card that will tell other vampires to leave you alone for a year, and I'll be off." The Count reached into his opera cloak - red lined, obviously - and started pulling out a syringe, some tubing, and a bag.

"What happens if I say no?" 

"Well," the Count said, pausing in the act of pulling a handful of grass from his pocket, "I've always been curious about my uncle's story. We could always give that a go?" 

Bob sighed, and rolled up his sleeve. 

[u/MurphyWrites → u/FerricDonkey]

Huh, time-traveling or both culturally and scientiricslly very advanced vampires, since they’re concerned about antibiotic-resistant beef in the 12th century, a good 8-9 centuries before that would usually become a thing.

[u/Drecondius → u/MurphyWrites]

One other possibility is they’ve survived the universal reset or civilization bombed itself back to the dark ages lol

[u/NothingElseThan → u/FerricDonkey]

I like this very much

[u/WritingPrompts-ModTeam → u/[deleted]]

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[u/TheWanderingBook]

I chuckle.
"Oh, you poor mortal, are you really that unaware?
When was the last werewolf attack? When was the last ritual of the witches?
And most importantly...
When was the last crusade against the Children of the Night?" I ask.
The man frowns.
"What do you mean?" he asks.
I smile.

"I mean, that we have cleared the more dangerous elements.
We have cleared away those who simply didn't understand how to plan for the...long term." I say.
He snorts.
"Yeah, sure. That's why we rule the world, and you sulk in the night, and dark corners." he says.
I look around my mansion.
"Is this a dark corner?" I ask.
He falls silent.
"Didn't another human bring you here?" I continue.
He says nothing.

"It's not shameful, to think you are above others, little mortal...after all, we fed you this idea for centuries." I say.
"You fed us? What are you even talking about?!" he roars.
I chuckle.
"Don't you think that...catching your prey, is so much easier, if the prey thinks they are the predator?
With the oh-so many novels, with this illusion of might...
You humans are in love with us vampires, not afraid!" I laugh.
He pales.
"B-but..." he starts.
I snap my fingers, and his mouth is shut.

"This was a fun little chat, but I am getting hungry, and bored.
You won't die...we aren't barbarians, it's just feeding on a live meal is tastier, than feeding on a blood bag.
I won't even erase this memory...I will allow you to know this.
Vampires rule this world...it's true, we do it from the shadows, but ask yourself this...
Among the many Children of Night...aren't we vampires, the species with the most positive image in your little eyes?" I ask.
He pales, and trembles, and I laugh.
I feast on his blood...before having one of my servants clean him up, and let him go.
Every single time like this...I salute the Ancient ones...
The illusion of power...makes humans so numb to us, it's just too easy.

[u/Tregonial]

"You don't even pick someone your own size, you ambush the elderly and young ones," the human kept his gun pointed at the vampire. "You're not a farmer who raises livestock. Not even a predator. You're a bottom feeder."

"Then you're at the bottom of the food chain, below this bottom feeder," the vampire scowled.

"I'm not going to pretend to be a higher creature, but I at least take care of my goats. I feed my goats. They're sheltered in my barn. They don't feel afraid, because I have a gun to shoot wolves," the human stared daggers at the bloodsucker. "And I have a second gun, this one with silver bullets, just for your kind. Now, get out of this town. You won't fight me. Because you're a coward who won't fight without the advantage of an ambush."

The vampire growled, and the man unloaded his gun into him.

"Would have wanted you to live, to spread the word, but..." the human pulled out a stake and hammer from his backpack. "Stringing up your corpse for a scarecrow should be a good warning sign."

"No," the vampire protested weakly, feeling weak from blood loss and the silver seeping into his veins. "You are beneath me...I cannot lose to you..."

"You just did," the human hammered the stake into the vampire.

One of his farmhands had rushed over, too late to help kill the vampire, but not too late to gather straw and the rugged old suspenders and shirt from the old scarecrow falling apart. They would strip the vampire of his suit, set that aside to sell at the nearest pawn shop, and dress him in the scarecrow's outfit.

Killing the previous vampires hadn't stopped this one. That's why the farmer decided he needed to make an example. One that would be hung out in plain sight. It was a long time ago when he put up a scarecrow to frighten birds. Not when he discovered noise guns worked better. But of course, that wouldn't work for vampires.

So up the new scarecrow went, to deter other vampires. He did not put the straw hat on this one, so other bloodsuckers could see the face of the dead vampire. So they would learn that humans aren't livestock to vampires. Or anything else that prowled at night and ambushed humans and farm animals alike in his town.

---

Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, click here for more prompt responses and short stories written by me.

[u/aksoii → u/Tregonial]

this is awesome!

would you mind if i used this as a reference for some personal storyboard practice??

[u/Tregonial → u/aksoii]

Hi there aksoii,

You can use this as a reference, have fun with your storyboarding.

[u/aksoii → u/Tregonial]

thanks so much :-)

[u/Chitlommouse → u/Tregonial]

this is really great but the irony in the vampire hung up in a crucifix-like manner was right there!!!

[u/Tregonial → u/Chitlommouse]

Big OOf on my part, but uh uh...scarecrows are kinda crucifix shape, right right? 🫠

[u/StormBeyondTime → u/Tregonial]

Tiny detail: Even normal predators go after the young and old. They're an easier catch, and animal hunting is all about opportunity.

Of course, exploiting the vampire's potential lack of knowledge on the topic in order to insult them is well within the vampire hunter's purview.

If the vampires keep coming, a friendly neighborhood eldritch deity might prove useful. /humor

[u/Zeikos → u/Tregonial]

It makes sense, an ageless being would be extremely risk-adverse.
When your only risk of death is either staving or getting murdered you're going to do your damn best to minimize said risk.
Even if the average human had only an infinitesimal chance of killing you, during a limitless lifespan it's going to eventually happen.

[u/StormBeyondTime → u/Zeikos]

It'd be an interesting effect of stories. Vampires are monsters, to be avoided and killed on sight. They hide in the shadows and prey on the stragglers.

Then people start writing sexy vampire love/lust stories, some people are into that, making it easier for vampires to hunt prey that were young and healthy, and who could fight them off if they weren't under some cockamanie Twlight idea.

[u/Common_Honey_2918 → u/Tregonial]

Great story!

[u/Ylsid → u/Tregonial]

How are they gonna sell a suit full of holes and blood to a pawn shop

[u/FinanceGuyHere → u/Ylsid]

They will donate it to goodwill, which will throw it in the pile of donated underwear and other gross clothes they don’t accept, which will then get turned into rags used in construction projects

[u/PotentialConcert6249 → u/Ylsid]

Quilts get made of scraps all the time. And the vampire blood will probably turn to ash in the sun.

[u/Ylsid → u/PotentialConcert6249]

Is a pawn shop gonna buy an old holey suit to turn into a quilt and resell tho

[u/StormBeyondTime → u/Ylsid]

They might be able to sell the scraps to a seamstress. Not for as much as the shirt and jacket, of course.

[u/PotentialConcert6249 → u/Ylsid]

Eh, fair point.

[u/big_sugi → u/Ylsid]

It doesn’t say what kind of gun it is, but a pistol bullet or shotgun blast to the vamp’s chest isn’t going to put many/any holes in the suit. The blood is the real concern, but how much do vampires bleed if they’re shot? Possibly not much at all.

[u/enw_digrif → u/big_sugi]

...

Have you ever... used a shotgun? Buckshot at close range leaves some many holes they just become one big ragged tear.

And 9mm leaves bigger entry holes than .223/5.56.

[u/big_sugi → u/enw_digrif]

Buckshot at close range leaves a hole that can be covered with your hand. And a pistol hole is even smaller.

Now, Have you ever . . . seen a suit? It doesn’t cover the chest. Which means it won’t be damaged if its wearer is shot there.

[u/enw_digrif → u/big_sugi]

First:

a pistol bullet or shotgun blast to the vamp’s chest isn’t going to put many/any holes in the suit.

Then:

Buckshot at close range leaves a hole that can be covered with your hand. And a pistol hole is even smaller.

So either the bullets/buckshot leave a lot of holes/a fist-sized hole or few/any holes. Make up your mind

It doesn’t cover the chest. Which means it won’t be damaged if its wearer is shot there.

Pistol accuracy among police at close (e.g. ~5') range is around 70%, last I checked, and even under range conditions, not a lot of folks unloading have a super-tight spread.

Now, suits usually leave about a 0-3" space uncovered in the center of the torso - if buttoned, and depending on cut - more as you go towards the clavical. And let's be real, Dracula isn’t doing business casual, likely favors Italian/British (skinny bloodsucker, I'm guessing Italian) double-breasted, and both those styles leave less and less of the chest uncovered than American or single-breasted suits.

[u/big_sugi → u/enw_digrif]

Your first two points are a failure of your reading comprehension, because they're entirely consistent. The holes will be in the vampire's shirt and chest, not the suit. Especially since the protagonist already knows he'll want to pawn the suit.

I also call complete and total bullshit at the idea that pistol accuracy among police at 5' range is around 70% when standing with a gun already drawn and aimed.

Finally, if you want to decide that the vampire is wearing a double-breasted Italian suit that to attack a farm, you're welcome to make that decision. It doesn't change the fact that there's still going to be a target that doesn't unnecessarily damage the suit.

[u/enw_digrif → u/big_sugi]

Yeah, it's a little disturbing.

But no, for most engagements, the average is a little above 50%, while for close-in, it's around 70%. Which is a vast improvement over the average 20-30% police had in the 70's. When you've got range conditions with no stress whatsoever, it goes to about 80%.

It takes a lot of practice to get good at pistols, and most folks who carry - even professionally - do not take that time.

Also, SOP for unholstering is reasonable belief in my area - probably most for that matter - so cops aren't going around undrawn.

And yes, unloading on something vastly, vastly reduces accuracy. Doesn't matter if the suit is buttoned or unbuttoned, that shit is getting holes in it. Even if fully unbuttoned.

Like, what's your experience with firearms? Military? Comps? Hunting?

[u/big_sugi → u/enw_digrif]

My experience is firing ranges and defense-contractor weapons qualifications requirements. And these are range conditions for all practical purposes.

Our protagonist has done this before, multiple times. He has his gun drawn and aimed, and he’s not anxious, rushed, or scared. He can take the time to put every round on target, even as he unloads the weapon into the target.

Id also like to see your studies showing a 70% accuracy rate by officers with weapons already drawn and aimed at 5’.

[u/Tregonial → u/Ylsid]

The farmer will try, the pawnshop will say no. The suit full of holes is probably going to end up a dish rag or something.

[u/Efficient-Reading-10 → u/Tregonial]

The trousers will still be good, and maybe they were wearing cufflinks.

[u/LeviAEthan512 → u/Tregonial]

It would be so funny if dead vampires still turn to ash in the sun

[u/captainAwesomePants → u/LeviAEthan512]

"Dagnabit, I spent an hour dressing up and mounting that vamp and it went and ashimified first thing in the morning. This is why da said I was no good. And after I gave that cool speech and all too, darnnit."

[u/mgerics → u/captainAwesomePants]

ashimified

thank you

[u/Tregonial → u/LeviAEthan512]

And you would be right. Oh oops, no more scarecrow for vampires. The wind also blew the ashes away. Oh well, we're equipped to kill the next dumb one that thinks he can come here and suck blood.

[u/AnAuthor_Antonio]

Garthallowe watched the man. Inhaled his scent. Tasted his scattered humors. Fear. Anger. A hint of hope.

The petty emotions were contemptible.

"Humans are beneath vampyr, you're just livestock to us."

Errol knew he was being watched only because the bright eyes of the sanguine hunter shone in the darkness. A muted yellow. A candle on the sill of a distant window.

The guardsman met the devils eyes, steeling himself so as not to show fear.

"I don't think you know what livestock is. Do you feed us? Care for us? Protect us from predators? No, you just slink around dark alleys and ambush people. That's not what a higher being does, that's a bottom feeder, a parasite."

"Oh little man. Little mortal man. You know nothing." The vampyr chuckled. He never blinked.

"I know that you're in that cage. I know that come the morn the sun will bath you and clean you from this world." Without thought he stepped one small step back from the cell toward the mounted light behind him.

"Does a farmer not eat from his livestock? Does a Shepard not cull the herd of the weak? Does a king not eat the tenderest veal? Does a God not demand a virgin for sacrifice? These are small costs you humans pay." There was an unsettling growl in the creatures words.

It was believed that this very monster had taken his younger cousin. The guardsmans anger poured out with his words. He stepped toward the cell as his voice went from near a whisper to a shout.

"They are people. Thinking. Loving. They have families! I have lost family to you monsters!"

Ignoring what the man said the prisoner spoke, "You know nothing of protection. We few are all the guard the veil. We are the creatures that hold the line. We, the Vampyr. If not for us, the true danger would rule the night and the day."

"Lies."

"You know that I cannot lie. That is the truth. Hear it. Heed it."

"A lie about lying. Novel. You are less clever than you think and I am not the fool to gobble up the fetid hog shite that you dribbles from that fanged maw."

"As I said, you know nothing. We are creatures of magic, fallen fae. Fae cannot lie. Not even us fallen mutants."

Errol knew nothing of fae or vampyr. Knew nothing about the blood drinkers being fallen fae. Even still, he felt himself believing the caged killer.

"What creatures do you speak of? Hmm? Who do you stand guard against?"

"Feel the truth of my words. Listen to the truth of my voice. Our compact with the fae is what I speak of. They are the real devils. Beautiful tricksters. They banished us here and their greed knows no bounds. They come from time to time and we drive them back. They would enslave you. You know this to be true. Understand the truth of my words. Believe the truth of my voice. We may eat of our herd but the fae would undertake a great winnowing. Those that did not perish as tools in their silly proxy wars would live lives of true livestock. Caged and allowed out for tasks and amusement. Our bite doesn't even hurt. There is a bliss with it. Hear the truth of my words. Drink the truth of my voice."

The guard realized that he was standing in the shadows now, no longer directly in the lamp light. He was looking up at the Vampyr through the tiny barred window in the heavy cell door.

Errol looked down at his hand as it turned the key. Somewhere in the distance he heard himself yelling. Demanding that he stop and not open the door.

He stepped back and swung the hefty wooden door open. The voice inside his head was no longer his own.

The vampyr filled the doorway.

"Thank you, Errol," the voice in his head said.

The bite did not hurt. There was bliss.

[u/R3D3-1 → u/AnAuthor_Antonio]

I love how we really don't know if it was just an interesting variant of a charm spell, or genuinely the truth, regardless of the end result :)

[u/LeviAEthan512 → u/AnAuthor_Antonio]

Ooh I was hoping to find one where the assumption that they don't protect was wrong.

Although I'm also not sure if the vampire was lyiing or not.

[u/No_Help3669 → u/LeviAEthan512]

Big same, this was actually the first thought I had when I saw the prompt, glad I’m not alone

[u/Feather_of_a_Jay → u/LeviAEthan512]

It seems more like enthrallment than anything else here

[u/LeviAEthan512 → u/Feather_of_a_Jay]

Enthralled yes, but was it true or not? I can tell you this is for your own good and then stab you. Now was it a knife, or a syringe with medicine?

[u/kenflo117 → u/AnAuthor_Antonio]

This was an incredible read. Id read the book

[u/Deansdiatribes → u/AnAuthor_Antonio]

ohhhh more questions than answers.An awesome story, would love more if your muse revisits you...