Private Tales Life is in the Blood

[Nyrial]

She remembered something from long ago, from when she was only a child. Teachings in the Temple of her once great people. She couldn't remember the teaching exactly, but she remembered the idea of it. That taking someone's life for pleasure or personal gain, not only ended one person's life, but killed something inside you as well. A somewhat strange memory to recall she thought as she knelt there in the snow, her lips on another's neck, he fangs buried deep within. In contrast to this teaching, she'd always found the experience quite fulfilling. And so, when she was finished with her victim - who had just moments ago berated her with a number of crude comments and even threats - his body was left there in the darkened alley without a drop of blood gone to waste.

---

Nyrial wasn't too far from the scene of her little "crime," which had seemed to attract quite a stir in the quiet, derelict place this little town had turned out to be. Her travels through The Spine rarely brought her to anything much different, and luckily enough, no matter where she ended up there always seemed to be someone who crossed her the wrong way, making them more than suitable candidates for a proper meal. Not that she was particularly opposed to choosing just anyone, but there were certain lines she preferred not to cross. Certain things that felt just a little too close. But the furthest thing from those were the more nefarious sorts of people, all too willing to usher suffering upon another, regretting only when it is brought upon them instead.

And that kind of fear, for whatever reason, really did taste a little sweeter.

She licked her lips at the memory of her most recent meal, watching as the remains were carried out of the alleyway with a cloth draped over. And while she'd put herself on the porch of the nearby tavern, which was a buzz with the morning's discovery, there were more than a few townsfolk who had gathered near the alley. From here her elven ears could hear the whispers of almost everyone around her, all spreading their own little rumours. There was one that piqued her interest however, the mention of a vampire. And she did her best to hide her amusement at how quickly things managed to spread. In the instances before, she hadn't lingered where she'd done her deed. This time, however, she felt inclined to stay. She'd even rented a room, using the coin she'd pilfered from her various victims of course.

So, while the townsfolk continued to excite themselves over what they were calling a murder - she called dinner - she decided to resign once again inside, and despite the early hour, order a drink.

---

Skad ​

 

[Skad]

Contrary to the popular beliefs of pig-headed soothmoothers, The Nordwiir were not always found teeth deep in entrails, grunting and hollering to their demented pantheon. It was a concept that often evaded the grasp of simple-minded villagers; grisly tales of savage raiders spewing forth from common lips over a flagon of frothy southern piss.

In fact, many of the Dark Gods didn’t requirement payment in flesh, blood and death. No, some championed other realms and with it brought different kinds of worship, steeped deeply in things like fire, fucking and fish.

And like most mortals, even the Nordwiir enjoyed a soft bed and a roof over their heads now and again.

So naturally, Skad felt a small measure of amusement that the first town to be spared Hauradur’s blade in a few weeks was in the midst of a murder. Kin-Slayer’s lone eye followed the covered body being carried out of the alleyway as she pondered the southern aversion to death. Her face remained as it always did, a distant void that made the women’s head seem empty. She was, however, listening; hearing the fear-laced gossip begin to stir amongst the townsfolk. Far from fluent with the common tongue, the Nordwiir woman had to settle on individual words.

Blood.

Enemies.

Vampire.

That last one was foreign, but the hushed fear in tone was not. The odd accusatory glance began to shift towards the pale and unfamiliar barbarian that had suddenly appeared on their streets. Tall, lean, imposing, and littered with scars both old and new; superficial and fatal. Was she this vampire? Skad could not say, she did not know what it meant but she would accept the reputation that seemed to precede the foreign word, and if their paranoia turned into violence then it was just another sign from the Dark Gods that this town would be christened anew in Hauradur’s crimson tides.

She carried on, well-worn leather carrying the Wiir woman through the crowds and to the inn, where hopefully at least one night of restful sleep could come before the pitchforks were gathered, just one night away from hard ground and nocturnal beasts.

However, a different thirst needed to be sated first and with all the grace and decorum of a rutting Kaldabatur Skad approached the bar, slammed down her hands and made her loud and guttural demand.

“Drink.”

 

[Nyrial]

The tavern was, in contrast to the rest of this place, quite large, even grand. It had tall ceilings, a grand staircase, and chandeliers. Granted, everything was aged and weathered and less than well kept, but it was clear this was once a place of more noble gatherings. Now the patronage was a simpler lot who demanded far less luxury. So, the windows were often covered rather than replaced, rooms barricaded rather than repaired, and the chandeliers were never tended, leaving a perpetual shadow overhead.

Such a place suited her well, she thought. She wasn't much fond of the light.

When the one called Skad, though Nyrial knew not her name, her interest was immediately in her. She knew it was not her own memories that reminded her, rather the Mistress', but she identified the woman as a Nordwiir. Nyrial herself had never encountered their kind, in fact Nyrial on her own was sheltered from nearly the entirety of the world. The Mistress however, had been quite well traveled, and her attempted possession only served to grant Nyrial the benefits of another's lifetime of experiences and knowledge, albeit broken and incomplete.

There were also other influences beyond just memory that now served her as well. Seduction being one of those things, something McKinley had been quite proficient in. Nyrial however used it only for certain benefits, such as convincing the bartender to bring her drinks at no cost. But it was never any more than a game, as Nyrial's taste was yet to be truly acquired.

But she had to admit, when the Nordwiir woman slammed her fists onto the bar and made her demand, Nyrial's taste came into question. She lifted a tall glass of some darkly coloured spirit to her lips and eyed the woman with particular interest as the young bartender moved off to fetch her a drink. He, on the other hand, screamed intimidated.

---

Skad ​

 

[Skad]

Kin-Slayer was entirely ambivalent in the face of the bartender's hurried fear as her remaining eye surveyed the alien interior of the tavern. Grand yet decrepit, she noted that the large open space made it advantageous for violence. Good. Such preparations were important. Lone green scanned across potential choke points, nooks for ambushes and...

...somebody was looking.

Skad looked back, her expression a stark void with dirt an dried blood set into a ten efra's worth of scar tissue, her empty right eye-socket covered by a torn scrap of leather. Her blonde hair braided and subsequently matted in a fashion that matched the wildness of her furs. It was little wonder that villagers assumed that the Nordwiir and her ilk howled at the moon.

Her eye lingered on the elongated ears of the other woman; what strange manner of creature was she? Did she bleed? Perhaps Haraudur would appreciate an offering of alien crimson.

An old oak flagon was gently placed next to Skad by the mouse-made man behind the bar, to which she replied by dropping a pouch stained with life onto the bar, never once taking her eye off the creature.

"I take room," she declared before pointing at the other woman, "what are you?"

 

[Nyrial]

And so, their stares would meet. She was hardly so shy, her gaze lingered, unwavering, then only to study. A missing eye, hair a tither, a woman but, she'd describe her as almost rugged in a way. It only made sense given such an obvious lineage.

Thanks McKinley.

Nyrial caught her gaze on her ear which she'd grown used to being unusual. In the coven it was one thing, none of them had been like her but they were used to her, these other humans were not, not so much. Neither were the Nordwiir it seemed, but she'd already guessed that. McKinley never encountered too many elves in these parts. She supposed then, it was one of the things that made her special to the Mistress.

She watched the Nord all the while the bartender did his work, almost playful in her studying of her until finally,

"I take room...what are you?"
​

"Elf," she replied, her glass lingering near her lips, "and who are you?"

---

Skad ​

 

[Skad]

"Elf," Skad repeated, seeing how the word felt in her mouth, traversing around a primaeval tongue that split its time between guttural and melodic. Wiir was not a simple language, which is perhaps why their people never took to written concepts.

It fit well, surprisingly.

Kin-Slayer ignored the follow-up question long enough to make it feel awkward, taking several long gulps of whatever golden ale had been provided. It was too sweet, too malty and far too crisp; soft southern pish several legions removed from the Nordwiir rotgut known as sýru. Was it even worth drinking if it didn't hurt? For a brief moment, she contemplated home.

"I am Skad," came the delayed reply as the one-eyed woman's attentions resettled firmly upon the 'elf' and without so much as a 'how are you' the Nordwiir approached, clearly interested in getting a closer look at those elongated ears. Were they magical? Did they hold special properties? Were they a weak point? What would happen if you cut them off?

"What ears do?" Skad grunted before reaching up with her free grotesquely scarred hand to attempt to touch the woman's alien body part.

Perhaps the Nordwiir's savage moniker was well-earned after all.

 

[Nyrial]

Just a few meters from the bar at a table a few men sat and ate, speaking to one another. For a time their conversation was relatively mundane, until a fourth entered into the tavern and took a seat there with them, saying immediately,

"You'll never guess who bit the dust last night."

"We already heard Dari, that asshole had it coming."

"Did you hear how he died?"

The men grew silent, turning up from their plates.

"I hear there wasn't a drop of blood left in'em. Bite marks on his neck... seems there's a bloodsucker about."

"An' one that done us good for once."

"Speakin' of good, lookee here," he said with the nod of his head toward the bar, drawing the attention of the other three there.

---

"The ears are to hear, my dear," she replied, leaning away some as her acquaintance's hand drew a little too close. But, for whatever reason, be it curiosity, she'd been tempted to remain still and let the woman grab onto her ear. It wasn't as though she was particularly sensitive, she hardly felt any pain at all given her affliction.

"Usually I only let people who buy me a drink first touch me, Nord."

Savage wasn't exactly the description she was willing to give quite yet. Eager perhaps, but whichever was the case Nyrial fully intended to see just what it was about this Skad she found so intriguing - if there was anything worth-while at all. But she couldn't help thinking as she sat there with the woman's hand so dangerously and awkwardly close to her, that she would not be disappointed.

---

Skad ​

 

[Skad]

Skad's hand stopped, not pursuing the woman's exotic ears like some bumbling oaf who couldn't take a hint. Her expression held little reaction, not to the rejection nor the obvious being stated. Her common tongue was far from perfect but she was at least aware that ears were to hear.

Kin-Slayer withdrew her hand,

She turned to the bartender, who seemed to grow shorter every time she cast her lone eye upon him, "I paying for Elf drinks now," she ordered, knowing full well that the bloodied purse would cover whatever the creature wished for and with that, she turned back, "you getting what want."

Did that infer that she wished to touch her? The Nordwiir's face gave little away, although a sidelong glance let the Elf know that the blonde was acutely aware of the conversation happening not far from where they stood.

"What does you think of the death?" Skad inquired with her awkward common tongue, referring to the decently deceased news that had spread across the town rather than some obscure concept known as 'the death'.

 

[Nyrial]

Skad wasn't long in fulfilling the criteria Nyrial had laid out, and as such she felt the least she could do was following through on the agreement, odd as it was. But who would she be kidding, she was enjoying the little game.

"So I am," she replied, setting her empty glass down. She rested her elbow against the bar and propped her chin up onto her closed hand, turning her ear to the Nord woman with a sideways stare, saying, "I'm not so interested in the death as much as how the people are taking it. They almost seem... content with it."

Then she tilted her head some, further presenting her ear to Skad with the gesture and following silence.

---

Skad ​