Private Tales A hunter in the streets

[Rainer]

An odd disposition came over him as he peered over to Wren, frantically fighting against the horde of thralls. He found himself concerned over her well-being, a thing that felt foreign at first - particularly when placed against her abilities and strength. And he felt insulted that despite his threat towards the Alukrah, the thralls continued to pursue her with surprising zest. The insult would be turned in kind as the thought of concern was blinked away in the heat of the moment.

The burning hammer was clipped to Rainer's hip, seemingly devoid of affect against his trousers. Unsheathing the sword from his back, he held it at just the right angle to shine a reflection of the sconces into the Alukrah's face. "I said..." He paused, watching the woman fight for her life, feeling the voice of the ancient vampire scour through his mind.

"Call off your fucking beasts!" His voice came in somewhere between a growl and snarl as he brought the blade down. The Alukrah lifted his hand and caught the blade in his palm; the edge sunk deep into his palm. Rainer stomped his foot into the beasts chests and pressed down on the edge of the blade with his free hand, cutting into his own flesh to drive it deeper.

It didn't occur to him that without their master, the thralls might attack without direction. But for now, he was caught in the moment and the oddity of this concern. He was caught now between his weight and persistence and this monsters will to live.

 

[Wren]

Rainer received an oddly satisfied sneer from the monster.

The raviiiiine. He hissed to his beasts, take her!

A guttural cackle followed as the thralls yanked Wren off her feet and hoisted her up into the air, screeching with delight as she was carried out of the cistern.

You Vedymin get so greedy seeking out strength but you forget... the Alukrah's sneer broadened, what else comes from greed.

Wren came-to about halfway down the hallway and began to struggle, kicking and pitching against the thralls until they were forced to drop and drag her instead. She wasn't sure why her heart began to race with fear as the sound of the ravine at the other side of the tunnel reached her ears.

"Get off me - GET OFF! RAIN!"

 

[Rainer]

He recalled, in that blink of an eye, that dusty old manuscripts that detailed the origins of the Alukrah beyond the Steppes.

They were an odd creature, the Aloookrah, as they prefer to be called. Denounced by the religion of Celestialism for their particular defiance of Aionus and the passage of time, they were reclusive and carried many stigmas and superstitions. Despite theories of being the progenitor for a number of vampire strains, they were often considered separate and parallel to the natural evolution of vampirism. Weak against silver, weak against fire, yet they carried an odd habit that seemed founded by habit, and not necessarily requirement. One, out of every three Aloookrah, could not pass running water. It was a matter of acoustics and wind, I suppose, yet that is not fully understood. However, the pain was described so thoroughly for those afflicted that all would fear passage. It was said that only the youngest of their kind could live without fear of the ravine.
​

The sound of Wren's voice seemed to pierce somewhere deep and indescribable. Rainer wasn't a philosophical man and by most measures, was simple at best. He preferred comfort and warmth, thick blood, and company. This work was something that had unintentionally defined him but had never steered him. Not until he was given the ultimatum between sinking his sword deep into this beasts head or halting Wren's passage across the ravine. A one in third chance meant that she'd be overcome with the weakness of the Alukrah and it seemed, at this point, that wasn't a wager he was willing to make.

"Fuck!" He stated quite firmly as he pulled the blade back, slicing deep into the beasts palm. Flicking the blood back against stained alabaster amidst the sounds of the Alukrah's laughter, Rainer conjured the last bit of magic he had to re-enforce his speed and race towards Wren.

Cutting them off at the pass, prior to the archway that led to the bridge, his downward swing split a thrall in two from shoulder to hip. Another swing left another clawing at the ground as the bottom half of their body stumbled before spilling entrails across the archway. Another was smacked with the lux meteor hammer, sending showers of ash into the ravine, as another exploded against a wall in gray cinder. He felt the magic leave him and what energy he had obtained evacuated his body, forcing him to the ground. Dipping down, he sunk his teeth into one of the nearly dead thralls and drank deep - despite the presence of more thralls coming.

 

[Wren]

She was dropped like a struggling sack of potatoes amidst the chaos of Rainer's charge. She hit the ground with a snarl and for what wasn't the first time since she'd began traveling with the man, her anger was going to get the best of her. Only this time would be a little different.

A little stoked with the fuel and power of the Alukrah blood now coursing through her body.

With a heavy groan the woman pushed herself halfway up into a kneel, leaning against her knee for a moment to fully regain her bearings. The next thrall to come screeching up the tunnel found itself within her clutches, fingers wrapped around its throat and the heat of her fury burning a vibrant crimson in her eyes.

Obey.

It stopped struggling nigh immediately, confusion slowly blinking out of its glossy eyes.

Wren could feel the Alukrah through the thrall's mind, sense the presence of the progenitor there - but the Alukrah was wounded and suffering a good deal of blood loss. Not even it was immune to such things and it wasn't built to feed on its own kind. She could sense its growing hunger, the chords of control slowly unraveling, and she took full advantage of it. The thralls weren't frenzied because it was telling them to be, they were frenzied because it was losing the ability to control them all.

She released the thrall and turned her molten gaze down the hall to the others approaching.

OBEY.

One by one, they stopped.

The Alukrah could sense it now, too, and he was furious. But his fury was chaotic, not honed in and tempered like her own. He couldn't wrest control back.

BRING HIM.

And so they turned and set upon the Alukrah like a wave.

 

[Rainer]

He could hear her voice, just as he had heard the Alukrah's. But where the old beast had played and toyed with them, Wren's anger was assertive and authoritative. The progenitors voice was muffled, like a stone cast against a wall a mile away. And it was drown out with her steeled focus and pursuit.

Driving the sword into the stone beneath his feet, he propped himself up and brought himself to a standing position. The Vedymin were never meant to use powerful magic and while his was weak, it had been a bit too much. Alone, he would have never expended energy in such ways. Even to have other hunters along with him, it was entirely out of his character.

Blood dripped from the stubble of his chin as he breathed in heavy, coldly watching the enthralled turn away from Wren and towards their former master. He could hear the words of the man, pleading with them to turn back and attack the intruders. But his voice was too soft and hers was far too sharp. Rainer had to admit, at least to himself, and likely silently to Wren, that he too felt the urge to obey and bring him.

As the enthralled had their way with the Alukrah, Rainer passed Wren and carried his blade low. They tore pieces from leech-like-flesh, gouged at his cheeks and ripped at his mouth. They sunk teeth in deep to hide and gnawed at bloody stumps, drawing out blood from wounds that were attempting to heal. As he approached, many divided and cast their eyes downward. They were now at the confluence between Alukrah and Wren, deciding whose camp to follow.

Rainer had no time for it. And the Alukrah had suffered grievously, splayed across the stone of the cistern and bleeding furiously. Lifting his sword, Rainer did all that he could and obeyed. Bringing the blade down, it cut through flesh and bone, clanking against hard stone.

And the wails turned to silence, echoing endlessly out into the Cairou.

 

[Wren]

Wren remained where she was, still kneeling, still breathing heavily, still wholly focused on the task at hand: keep them under her control. It was a losing battle for the Alukrah, but a battle nevertheless. One that became more frantic the greater the damage dealt to him by his own progeny.

When the last of his wails died away in her mind and through the tunnels of the underground, Wren pressed herself back to both feet and slowly moved to rejoin her partner.

A deep breath exited her chest as she watched the last twitches of the Alukrah's body settle and still.

She waited only a moment before kneeling down next to the body, warm yet but not for much longer, "We'll need to call the rest of the nest in and dispose of them. No telling what they'll do once they no longer have a Master."

 

[Rainer]

He thought on her comment for a moment, resisting the urge to correct her. There was no we, not when it came to controlling these beasts. Not yet. But that urgency was overcome by the desire to feed, blood still slick upon his beard, and to understand the legacy that lied within the progenitor.

But it struck him, the fear of the ravine. Perhaps hers was one born of superstition but his could be the sort of pain he had never known. It was not worth the struggle, not when he had been sated for the days to come.

"You will need to call them in. I can deal with the rest." He stated calmly as he sheathed the sword and withdrew the burning orb from his hip. Exhaustion coursed through him but he felt invigorated with the task at hand, feeling far more worldly than controlling thralls or dispatching ancient vampires.

He flung the orb and smacked a thrall in the head, sending it down in a puff of ash. The large room continued to rumble as he twirled his way through the droves, slowly turning the cistern into a crematorium.

 

[Wren]

Perhaps it made the most sense that only one of them should wear that particular crown for the evening. She watched him in silence, unsmiling and still absently holding the reins of the current collective. They were standing in a dull quiet, numb and dumb under the lack of emotion coming from their new master.

Wren turned back to the carcass before her as he stepped away, brow set, and leaned over to feed on what was left of the Alukrah.

The power was invigorating to say the least and when she was finished she felt the sizzle of arcane energy rushing through her. Hunger fully sated, overly so, she felt her appetite might not return for several days. Maybe a week. Enough time to get the fuck out of this miserable city and far away, to the next town, the next nest of heathens.

"Hey," she called out to Rain in between puffs of cinder, "don't waste them all. Eat something."

Then she closed her eyes, inhaled deeply, curled her hands into fists, and called in the remnants of the nest.

COME.

 

[Rainer]

The hammer smacked into the stone after passing through the body of two thralls, sending them into the air to collect with the rest of the beasts. The lux spell died like an evening fire, breathing its last breath before succumbing to the midnight cold. The nest had been far larger than twenty and while that seemed enticing at first, the dispatching left his arms heavy and his body aching with a promise to cause strife in the coming hours.

New blood would sort it out but he contemplated on the enervation of the effort, the outright expenditure that was necessary for the culling. They had gotten their blood and they would collect the bounty. And the blush across Wren's cheeks were as potent as he had ever seen. But the words she spoke felt like suggestions and the words she thought felt like commands, and he wasn't quite sure what to make of that.

Coiling the chains of the meteor hammer back up into a loop, he slung it on his hip before sauntering back towards Wren. Powder and ash covered his shoulders and further grayed his hair as he sunk his teeth deep into the neck of a thrall, standing at attention. Gulping hard, he quickly drained the beast of everything it had before letting it limply sag back down towards the floor.

"We have to burn the body..." He stated quietly, not bothering to wipe the blood from his stubble. "And we have to drown the head. Can you make it past the ravine? We need to find a church."

 

[Wren]

She let him to it, paying little attention to his wandering thoughts while she focused on the intent of control over the lingering nest members. They trickled in through the various tunnels surrounding the cistern, cow-eyed and slack until the moment they turned to dust and ash. Rain made quick work of it and it wasn't until she could no longer feel the presence of any of them save -

Nope, he drained that one, too.

A deep inhale, a slow exhale. Her fingers itched, joints ached, blood simmered. Mentally she was exhausted but physically she felt the power of the ancients filling her very being. A sensation quite unlike what one experienced feeding from the common thrall.

Red blinked away, slowly fading back to an illuminated hazel in the darkness of the hall. Most of the sconces had gone out and the walls still rumbled and protested from time to time but even that seemed to have quieted.

Burn the body. Drown the head. Her hand made for the sword that was supposed to be at her hip only to find it wasn't there. Where was it? The glow had faded with the unlife of the last thrall. Damn.

"Well my matches are soaked in blood," that was a lie, she didn't have any matches. She was, however, fairly covered in blood and gore. A glance was given back towards the tunnel that lead to the ravine, uncertainty creeping in, "not sure. Didn't feel like a good idea before."

 

[Rainer]

"Your fear of running water is ingrained now..." He stated, almost coldly, as he grabbed the remaining arm of the Alukrah and began dragging him. "All of their kind fear the water. Because some of them cannot pass water. One out of every three." He growled as he continued to pull the heavy body across the cistern.

"You gained his power and his weakness." He came to a stop and stretched, breathing in heavily. She was an utter mess, there was no doubt about that. But so was he. If they were going to make it out of this place without attracting attention, it would have be by the dark of night or through the waters of the Cairou. And he wasn't inclined towards the latter. "But the young of the Alukrah do not fear the water. So neither should you."

He reached up and jumped, flicked the sword at the chains of the sconce. The links busted open, leaving two of the chains remaining. The coals spilled out from the brass bowl and poured on to the body of the Alukrah, littering him with ash and embers. It didn't take much before the body took to the spark, turning into a large flame that licked at the ceiling and scorched the grime and stone.

Breathing in heavy, he sheathed his sword before approaching Wren with a tired smirk. "Besides. You could use a dip in the water. Maybe we both could."

 

[Wren]

She moved about the cistern, toeing the piles of ash in search for her blade. Found it tossed halfway down a tunnel she hadn't been, coated in the same blood that coated her. There was no denying the comfort and relief she felt when her fingers wrapped around the hilt.

It was one of the very few things remaining to her from her elvish heritage and home. That, and her pointed ears.

Stepping back into the main area the woman gave Rain a side-eye while he explained her predicament. Evolved to fear the water, but not? This Alukrah business made very little sense to her. She decided not to think on it too much and instead focused on a much easier task: removing the head from the body which she did so with one swift and decisive swing of her sword. Her fingers reached down to grasp at the hair on the scalp, lifting the grotesque thing from the floor, tattered, chewed, and torn like a dog's favorite ball.

"That so?" a brow lofted in response to his smirk.

A part of her agreed with Rainer - she felt disgusting, and in more than one way. A long soak in a hot bath was very tempting, a dip in the cold waters of the Cairou ... not so much. Cleansing her soul (did she even have one anymore?) at a Church wasn't a bad second.

"I'm not swimming in the river, Rainer. Especially not after smelling the water in here."

We travel by night.

They'd only been down here for an hour or so, and night had only just settled over the city when they'd arrived. Plenty of time to finish the job.

 

[Rainer]

Her sense of smell coming back made sense, given the sort of blood she had consumed. And while he hadn't expressly had thoughts for the waters in the cistern, swimming in the Cairou meant swimming in the discharge. In for a penny, in for a pound.

"Alright." He said with a smile, scratching at his stubble. Flakes of blood flecked off into the dimly lit cistern as he nodded. "We'll take that head to the church of the Celestials. There is one fairly close to the Inn. We need to drown it in water blessed by their disciples. Then..." He paused, adjusting the pauldron on his shoulder and feeling at the open cut across his palm. "You can keep it as a trophy. Or throw it away. Or burn it."

Or whatever tickled her fancy.

He started to make his way across the bridge. "Then we can sort out our appearances."

 

[Wren]

Did she look like a woman that kept trophies? Wren grimaced in disgust at the notion of keeping this abhorrent thing with her and followed.

Rainer crossed the bridge first, Wren at his heel until she stood just at the ramp where ingrained apprehension struck her cold. The fear was there, she knew it wasn't hers. She'd walked across this bridge coming in, so she could walk across it going out.

But her feet would move no further.

...wait.

 

[Rainer]

He stopped as soon as he heard that it was only his footsteps crossing the stone of the bridge. He was hoping that if they just dismissed the fear and trudged on, everything would pan out. But as deep as that blood ran, and for how old it must have been, it seemed the fear wasn't as easy to escape as he had hoped.

Turning around, he walked back across half of the bridge to approach Wren. "You've dealt with things far more sinister than this..." From her birth to now, it had only been two months. But preceding her change and following it, that statement was entirely true.

Holding out his hand, he looked down towards the dismembered head and then back towards the elf hybrid. She could either take his hand or let him shoulder the burden of carrying the skull. "We can walk together. It's not far."

 

[Wren]

It was unnerving, not being in control of one's own emotions. A chronic ailment of a newborn Vedymin, or so she'd been told. Though aside from the hunger and the mood swings, Wren felt as though she'd maintained decorum well enough for one so ... young. This fear gripping her now, cementing her boots to the ground, making her heart scream was something else entirely. Like something ancient had gripped her psyche and overrode all efforts to fight against it.

Wren's mouth went dry as Rainer offered his hand to her and she felt the fear simmer through her veins to her extremities. Somehow she managed to take the hand with her own, forcing the motion through the overwhelming terror.

Her gaze shifted uneasily to him and she nodded, swallowed and allowed his tug to give the necessary momentum to take the first few steps. Wren couldn't be certain what the sensation was that started in her feet - the adrenaline from before was still running hot. After several steps it almost seemed as if he was right, but the leadened feeling of her legs quickly spread upwards into her middle like hot needles and by the time they were nearing the middle of the bridge those needles had turned to daggers.

Molten-hot, serrated daggers twisting and pining.

Wren dropped like a boulder, a scream tearing from her throat so loud it made the already fractured foundation of the cistern rumble in reply.

 

[Rainer]

It was all he could do to hold on to her hand as she crumbled, falling to the floor of the bridge like a wounded animal. Her grip was fierce as it was but against his hand in that moment, it felt like a vice that was threatening to break the bones in his palm and have its way with everything else.

He had been wrong. His estimation of the transference of the gene was incorrect. She had drank of the progenitor so she inherited his weaknesses, not the traits of the species. A young Alukrah would have been fine. But Wren was not a young Alukrah. She was a Vedymin, who drank of the ancient gore. And that ancient beast was not only afeard of the moving ravines, but death and pain would quickly follow any attempted passing.

He had been wrong.

Yanking her hand and pulling her body up from the bridge, he flung her over his shoulder in a similar fashion to the fire brigade. Despite the writhing and the screaming, which threatened the remaining form of the crumbling cistern, Rainer moved with the screeching songbird back into the cistern and away from the accursed bridge.

As soon as he crossed back into the threshold of the cistern, he leaned forward and placed her gently back against the ground. Taking care with her neck, he made sure her descent was as comfortable as he could make it.

"No more bridge now..." He reassured her, and himself, in hopes that the pain he had caused would cease. "We will find another way."

 

[Wren]

The moment he stepped off the bridge the active pain subsided and Wren's screaming wilted, body going limp over his shoulder. She crumpled and clattered to the ground where he set her down, chest heaving for air. There was no immediate effort made to sit up or move - she felt in that moment utterly spent, the energy left behind by the progenitor's blood dissipated in the fire that had erupted in crossing that bridge.

Wren knew she'd experienced some horrible pains in her life, all manner of broken memories sliding past her mind's eye, but only one thing had come close to that. Felt like fire. Felt like being burned alive. The scars on the right side of her body told the story of such an ordeal.

Childbirth hadn't even compared and Wren could not for the life of her understand why she thought this. She never had any children.

"No bridge..." a wheeze, "no bridge," a groan.

"I just need a minute."

 

[Rainer]

There were many emotions and thoughts that clearly crossed Wren's brow and stern jaw amidst the transition from ravine center-line to the threshold of the cistern. Rainer knew her well enough to know that it was more than just pain but beyond that, he was traipsing about in the dark.

For Vedymin, two months was the equivalent to a blink of the eye.

"No bridge." He confirmed, nodding and sitting down next to her. With that sort of expenditure of energy, she would no doubt need to feed again. There was a surplus of enthralled within the cistern that had been left for the rats, still plump and without bloating. She could feed once she was ready or she could have her minute and then some.

"Take your time, we've nowhere important to be..." He stated quietly as he leaned back, sighing in relief. Propping his hand behind his head, he sprawled out and surveyed the cistern roof. It was ornate, far more ornate than he had original seen. It appeared to be hand carved and depicted a story regarding some celestial plight. Rainer wasn't an artist or religious man, but he enjoyed a good narrative when the plot was clear.

This plot wasn't particularly clear.

 

[Wren]

Her heart was still racing and her limbs still prickling with the sensation of fire, of fear. She'd feared that bridge for a reason and she realized, now, she should have listened to her instinct. Even if that instinct hadn't necessarily been her own.

The hand nearest Rain balled into a fist and punched him in the thigh, sideways. It was a half-assed gesture at best, made out of frustration.

"Fucking bridge."

 

[Rainer]

Wasn't really the bridge. More the water that was running under it. But gauging by the sudden thwack against his leg, set to ease by ginger rubbing with his palm, he determined that being pedantic at a time like this wasn't really the best idea.

Or was it?

"Not really the bridge. More the water." He said with a smirk as he pointed to the ceiling and the complex hand carvings. "You know what any of that means?"

 

[Wren]

THWACK.

She punched him again in the same spot, harder this time, 3/4's assed effort.

"Fuck. Off. Rainer."

Well, she was feeling more back to normal Wren now. The ancient Alukrah's blood high had worn off fairly substantially and she was left with a moderate sensation of something yet to be desired. Wren passed her tongue over her teeth, closed eyes slowly peeling open to try and ascertain what the hell he was asking about. The ceiling.

She squinted for all of five seconds before snorting dismissively, "Hell if I know." A grunt followed, she rolled to her side and slowly pushed herself up. Her legs felt stiff with the remnants of fire pangs, like they'd both fallen asleep and now she walked on pins and needles as they struggled to awaken again. Another grunt, she forced her way through the jarring sensation of her limbs to claim one of the few bodies still littering the floor for one last snack.

 

[Rainer]

This time he let out a grunt and pulled his leg up. The spot she hit wasn't so bad at former force. But with 3/4's assed effort, it felt like a hint of a lingering charley horse. "Ugh..." He rolled over on to his knees and shook his head.

He didn't regret the comment. If that was the brunt of the cost, it seemed like it was worth it. "I can't fuck off because you can't cross a fucking bridge. Or water..." He laughed as he stumbled up, dusting off his armor but ever aware that another thwack might be coming his way. Convinced that knowing the hit was coming wouldn't help in stopping it, he moved on to the question.

"Normal pipe layers don't put a whole lot of time into their work. When we entered the sewer, it looked like normal cisterns that we would find under any large city. Like Alliria. But this..." He pointed with an upturned finger. "This looks like the work of masons who gave a damn. Or maybe a Maester who had odd notions of his shit rolling through something a bit less pedestrian than common sewer tunnels."

Rainer shrugged and dropped his hand. "Maybe we keep going that way, find an exit in the College. Or at least find an interesting way to pass the time."

 

[Wren]

She was too far away for another punch, so she threw the limp thrall body at him instead. Easily avoided, it landed with a sickening number of thuds against the wall across the cistern. She sneered, if only for the momentary enjoyment of seeing him cringe.

To her credit, Wren cut the shit as he began speaking and gave the ceiling a second look of consideration. It seemed a sound assessment, even if he had been completely fucking wrong about crossing the bridge. She eyed him, still rolling an inexplicable hunger around in between her fangs.

"Well we can't go back the way we came for who knows how long," her gaze shifted from the man to the cistern tunnel to her right, "fuck it. I'm not sitting around here any longer than I have to. Let's go."

A glance back his way to see if he was following and she stepped into the waiting darkness of the tunnel.

 

[Rainer]

While he had known about Wrens temper from previous work, particularly after her change, he couldn't remember ever getting this amount of enjoyment out of it. Given his capability for healing, he imagined he could weather just about any consequence that resulted from his jeering. With the exception of fatal wounds...

...And getting hit in the balls. That sort of injury had long lasting ramifications.

Looking towards the dead body as Wren spoke, he was half tempted to make a comment regarding his expectation of her knowing what the carvings meant. Particularly because of the well known scholastic girth of the local timber moles. But he figured he'd give it a rest, for now.

The next area, following the cistern, was - surprise surprise - another cistern. But the architecture had changed. The center columns were ornately decorated at the base and ceiling, the sconces were chambered and hung from brass links that were likely polished to a shine at installation. The construction had shifted from open brick to something that appeared to be smooth, like sandstone blocks that were purposely weathered along the edges to conceal the gaps. The walls towered like shear cliffs with bridges spanning across the center height.

Water had likely sat at the bottom of the cistern sump, where a clear grime line formed in the stone - 10-15 feet beneath the bridges and benches they would use to cross the room. But it looked dry now.

"Not much rain up in the college..." He stated quietly, passing on various jokes about the Maesters being constipated due to some bad batch of pig at the cafeteria.