by Kindred Ult
After he was sure that he was properly attired, he turned the last bend and immediately ducked as a foot flew over his head. He rolled forward as a spiked boot and a circular blade slammed down behind him and jumped into the air ever so slightly as the blade was thrown at his feet. Once he landed of the flat end of the weapon, Demenn turned around to regard to two vampire sentries.
"Good evening Adrian, Brutus. I see that the two of you have not lost your edge yet." He smiled politely. It was always good to be nice to the sentries.
Adrian smiled back and stood to his feet. "Yea, but you usually have a harder time than that Demenn. Did you get first class?"
"I did, and let me tell you. It feels great." Demenn smiled again before sticking his foot under Brutus' weapon and flipping it back to him.
"Yes, well that is very good for you Demenn, but you know that we are in a war that is far larger than you or I. You realize that with the promotion you will undoubtedly be getting, you will be sent to the frontlines, don't you." Brutus was as formal as ever, but he was a decent undead monstrosity.
Demenn grinned wryly. "Yes, most of us become squad leaders once we reach second class, but I guess that I was overlooked. Not that I am complaining, my lack of involvement with our military allowed me to become first class quite sooner than I had anticipated. Unfortunately, I will now definitely have to become a squad captain. Oh well, I guess this is just my fortune."
"Beh! Listen to him, griping and moaning because now he's crazy powerful. The tree's already bent. Get out of here bum." Adrian pretended to hate most people who were stronger than he was.
Demenn smiled and bade farewell to the two sentries. When he turned around the bend he found Adrian's words to be true. The tree had been left open. He walked over it and then came to the gate of the vampire castle. The guards there were far more formal in their queries, but they let him pass with little more than a cursory interrogation. He smiled as he entered the gate and felt happy to be home again after so long away. He noted that the constellations in the artificial sky had shifted just a bit since he had last been there and that a few new buildings had been built as well.
As he walked down the streets, he was called out to by a few vampires, and returned their greetings in kind. Many smiled at him, and a few even stopped to speak with him for a bit. Yes, this night seemed to be made especially for him. For a moment he almost forgot the fact that he was a vampire and that he was about to be sent to the frontlines of a vicious war.
He was admitted into the main castle, but he had time before the council could see him, so he allowed himself to slowly walk through the halls. He contemplated all of the pieces of artwork, and while he had never had much appreciation for art, vampire art always spoke to him. It may have been because of their themes, or maybe it was because of the amazing clarity the artists exhibited. He had no idea how long he had spent just wandering the labyrinth of halls, but eventually an aide of the council came to fetch him and led him to the council chambers.
Demenn was surprised to see that all of the council was in session, but he figured that they must have been deliberating something important this time. Indeed, it seemed like his audience with them was merely a break from what they were working on, and most of them looked very bored. He admitted to himself that he might be reading too much into their expressions. Elder vampire's faces were notoriously hard to read, but maybe that was part of the reason they were on the council in the first place. It took real wisdom to become a council member, but if you were smart, wise, and talented enough, you could join them no matter what your class was.
The Patriarch and Matriarch, on the other hand, were completely different from the shriveled half-corpses that usually held seats in the council. Vladimir, the Patriarch, was young and more handsome than any other vampire Demenn had ever met. His black hair shimmered even with barely any lighting, and his face was that of an angel. In addition to all of this, he was also amazingly powerful. In just a few more years than Demenn had been a vampire, Vladimir had managed to go from being a fifth class to having power to almost rival Safiria. Almost.
The Matriarch, Safiria was, without a doubt, the strongest vampire in existence. Her magical powers and strength were said to be matched only by her beauty, and it was said that if you receive her kiss, you would die happy no matter what befalls you. She was the true leader of the vampires, but she usually let Vladimir run things as he saw fit. She only rarely made a command or corrected anyone.
Demenn walked up to the raised circle in the middle of the room where guests were meant to be. He faced the Patriarch and Matriarch and bowed himself to the floor to pay his deep respects, but he rose again when Vladimir bade him to. After a short pause, Vladimir spoke to him.
"Hunter Demenn, we received word that you recently finished the hunt of Wulf, first class werewolf. Make your report."
Demenn took a moment to organize his thoughts. "Honored Patriarch, beautiful Matriarch, and the members of the council. I found the first class werewolf Wulf many miles inside werewolf territory. I defeated him in single combat and devoured his heart; as such I am now a first class vampire. Also, he had many lower leveled minions, and I have brought their hearts to you as an offering." Demenn quickly pulled out all of the hearts, still bulging with blood, and placed them in a line on the table that was next to the raised circle for this very purpose.
He expected Vladimir to start the formalities, but then he was surprised to hear Safiria speak out from her seat. She turned her head to the side and regarded him. "Little vampire, you do not seriously think that a few hearts of werewolves below first class could even remotely raise our power?" Even her voice was beautiful.
For one moment, Demenn had no idea how to answer, he had barely ever seen Safiria in his many years with the vampires, and now he had to speak with her. He quickly went for pluck. "No, beautiful Matriarch, I would never be such a fool as to assume that power as great as yours could be affected by my offering. I am merely giving out of my abundance. I have had my fill, and it is never good for a vampire to drink more than is necessary. Such excess is for those with far more means than I have. Also, I here that werewolf hearts taste particularly good when basted on Darkoven wood over a fire and sampled with blood wine from 1467." He tried to sound as pleasant as possible.
To his immense surprise, Safiria actually giggled, and he was forced to keep tight control over himself to keep his jaw from dropping. She smiled as she took one last jab. "You say that you give these to us, and that you are not given to excess, but there is still one class two heart that you are keeping with you. Are your words villainous? Or do you take us for fools? Do you try to find our favor while still keeping the best of your treasure to yourself?"
Demenn could not tell if she was joking, or if he was very close to losing his head. He drew the last heart and his boot knife and held them together. "If you wish, my Matriarch, I would gladly spill this blood on the ground or give it to you. However, I had intended to give this to a friend that I owe a great deal to. I would be greatly in your debt if you would allow me to keep it for that purpose."
"Ah, of course. I seem to have misjudged you Demenn first class." Safiria tilted her head to the side and smiled. The moment of danger passed as quickly as it had come, and Demenn was allowed to return the heart and his knife. As he did, he noticed that Vladimir was looking at Safiria strangely. In a moment, though, he returned his gaze to Demenn and commenced the formalities.
"Very well Demenn, you have killed a first class werewolf have you not?" His voice was very formal. Nothing could be read in it.
"Yes, sire, I have." Demenn certainly did not want to annoy the second most powerful vampire in existence, so he figured he had better be as placating as possible.
"Good, and in your battle with the werewolf, did you observe the ability that the beasts achieve once they reach their first class?" His voice had softened just slightly, and Demenn took this as a good sign.
"I did sire."
"Very
good, you may not know this Demenn, but we vampires have a different version of this power. Ours is gained quite differently than theirs is, though, and it may take you a very long time to achieve it. Please follow Brilde to begin your training."
"Um, with the greatest respect, honored Patriarch, I believe that I gained this power during my battle with the first class werewolf." Once Demenn said this, all of the small conversations that had just started to come up again since Safiria had spoken stopped short once again.
Vladimir gaped at Demenn. "Show us this power that you think you have gained."
Demenn did not realize what the problem was. He searched inside his mind until he found the switch that had never been there before his fight with Wulf. Once it was switched, he began to feel the change. His wings burst out along with his ram-like horns and he grew in size while his skin became dark and his eyes glowed red. He was glad that his Other form did not break through his clothes like the werewolves' did. It must be hard to constantly replace your clothes.
The council chamber was struck dumb. Many of them, even the first classes, could not use this ability, because the means of obtaining it were very rare. Even those that could use it, though, were astonished. It had taken each of them at least ten years to gain the Other form.
"And you say that you obtained this before you defeated the first class?" Vladimir, to his credit, had regained his posture.
"Yes sire." Demenn was still in the dark as to what was so different.
"And have you ever encountered a werebat before?"
Demenn was puzzled. "A what sir?"
Vladimir returned to exactly how he had been before: formal and cold. "Never mind, very well, you may return to your normal form then."
Demenn flicked off the switch and immediately he shifted back to how he had been. He still could not explain how his clothes were intact, but he did not care very much as long as it stayed that way. He was asked to leave and wait outside the chamber for a bit because the council wanted to speak together for a moment. Once he closed the door the entire room exploded into noise. Almost every councilman had something to say about the matter.
"How can this be possible? He's lying!" One elder stood and rapped his cane on the floor.
"Impossible, you know that we have a lie detecting spell in this room." A younger one replied.
"He should be our new general!" One called out.
"No! He should be our champion instead." Answered another
"He's just an upstart."
"An 'upstart' who gained his first class powers a full twenty years before you."
"He doesn't have enough experience." Yelled out another elder.
"Too true." One nodded sagely.
The arguments could have gone on for much longer, but then a large bang interrupted them and Vladimir stood from his seat. All other conversations immediately ceased. He surveyed the large room before he spoke.
"Listen, I care little for this warrior. He will be promoted to squad captain as usual, but nothing more until he has proven himself to be more than an accident. More important is what we were discussing earlier. The werewolves are stepping up their activities in the northern section of the forest and we need more troops to send there. I leave the floor to anyone who wishes to speak about this and only this.
An elder stood and was recognized. He was one of the originals, and he looked like a man in his nineties. When he spoke, however, it was the voice of a man of twenty, which was very disconcerting. "Honored Patriarch, I propose that we send this Demenn along with his squad and several other squads to the north. Five or six squads should be enough, and this would be a perfect chance to see just how strong our newest first class is."
A quiet murmur of approval swept across the room. Vladimir thought about this for a moment before answering. "Very well, the proposition seems sound to me. Any objections?" Since there were none the matter was decided and the council went on to another topic.
Meanwhile, Demenn had been wandering for a bit more, he walked until he found a barracks near the entrance of the castle and he took a deep breath before he walked into it. Many fifth and forth class vampires were standing around talking, but once they sensed him enter, they stopped and stared at him. It only took a moment before one walked up to him and stood facing him. Demenn smiled.
"Hello Jaxon." He tried to sound cajoling
The vampire in front of him scowled. "You know that we are not supposed to use our original names here Demenn, vampire second—no wait, first class."
"True, and what name did you find yourself?"
"Varus."
Demenn thought for a moment. "That is a good name, a little unoriginal, but it is still a strong one."
Varus scowled deeper. "I hope that you did not come here to comment on my name Demenn."
"Very well then, Varus. I have brought you a gift. I do not mean it as a bribe. I merely mean it as a 'hey, sorry for killing your sister, stealing your soul, and making you damned for eternity just because I was hungry.' Or at least something like that." Demenn was finding it hard to articulate.
For a moment, Varus just stared at Demenn incredulously, but then he laughed sharply. "You really think that there is something you could give me to make me forget that you murdered my sister? I had to bury my own sister because of you! Do you have any idea what it is like to bury your own sister? And I'm not even counting you killing me as a part of this yet. No, Demenn, there is nothing you can do to atone for what you have already done."
Demenn sighed. "I know that I cannot atone, and believe me that I know how you feel. I also had to bury my little sister, and for that I killed the offender. At the same time, though, there is nothing that you can do to me in your current state. I know that the only reason you came here was to find and kill me, but I am sure that by know you must know the difference in power between us. What I bring you will not only be my first attempt to make you not hate me, but it will also make your lack of a life not as bad."
"And what might that be?" Varus looked very angry, but still rather curious.
Demenn reached behind him and pulled it out. "A second class werewolf heart."
A gasp spread through the room. It usually took many years for a fifth class vampire to get to fourth, and many more for third, but this new vampire was about to become second class in only a few months. Many cast angry glances at him. If he accepted this then he would probably never be able to speak to them.
Varus stared hard at Demenn, then at the heart, and then back at Demenn. He hesitated a moment, but then he took the heart from Demenn's hand and devoured it, sucking the blood from it before eating the flesh. The increase in strength was immediately apparent as he skipped two levels and went straight to a second class. His muscles immediately bulged for a bit before forming themselves comfortably, and all around him also knew that he was much faster than before. He would not now necessarily gain any more technical skill as a fighter, but he could use his new strength, speed, and also enhanced senses to make himself a better fighter. He had already proven his skill with a sword, though, as he had beaten several fifth classes, some fourth classes, and even one third class in his time training here.
Demenn stuck out his hand. "I realize that this is not nearly enough to compensate for what I have done to you, but I hope that one day you will be able to forgive me."
This time Varus stared even longer at Demenn and his outstretched hand, he was obviously battling something inside himself, but then he reached out and grabbed Demenn's. "I suppose I could consider it."
They smiled at each other. As they were about to leave the vampire castle, though, the Patriarch's aide found Demenn once again and asked him to come back to the council room. He quickly took his leave of Varus, while asking him to wait where he was, and walked back to the council room. When he entered, there was silence again, and casual disinterest was once again written on all of the council member's faces. Once he reached the raised circle Vladimir addressed him.
"Demenn, we
are, of course, promoting you to squad captain. You have proven yourself to be more than capable for that position. In addition, however, we will also be sending you to the northern area of Darkoven to battle the increasing threat of werewolves there. You will be leaving within two nights, be sure to be ready by then."
Demenn bowed to the Patriarch and made his due obeisance. He had expected this to happen. Even after having been gone for several months, he knew the problems in the north. Still, he had somehow hoped to not be sent there, but he also realized that he had doomed himself to this fate by showing and proclaiming his power. He had never been one to flaunt his own strength, but the secrets of the first class powers were kept secret from all other classes, so he had been caught off guard when Vladimir had told him to learn it.
As he slowly walked out of the room, Demenn silently berated himself for showing his power. The council was obviously sending him to the front of the battle as a test of his abilities. If he died, then he was just a strange accident, but if he succeeded, then they would look to him for more. They might even try to promote him to a Unit commander, or something even more dangerous. Demenn shook his head and forced those thoughts out of his mind and focused on one thing: Which six other vampires he would bring with him to complete his squad. As a new squad commander, he was allowed to choose any six vampires who were not already in a squad to join him. They had a choice whether to agree or not, but he figured that he could get the six he wanted to join him.