Seventy Seven Ways to Kill a Vampire
1.1
It's another rainy, dismal autumn night. The lights of the city are reflected in hazy puddles, and the sounds of passing cars, rain, and rowdy club goers rule the night. It's cold, but not that cold. Just cold enough that you slip your hands in your pockets, but not so cold that it lends the night pathos.
You wave your boss goodbye, packing up mats and practice gear. The late night sessions might bring in a new clientele, but having to clean up after them is worse than cleaning up after the kids' classes. At least none of them have divorces or promotions to worry about, and none of them drink in the locker room.
You put away the last of the mats, wipe away some of the sweat that's started to drip again, and lie back against the peeling wall of the club's only practice room. Your practice sword lies somewhat forlorn on the ground, all beat up and looking as tired as you. You should buy a new one soon, but you're not exactly making top dollar teaching martial arts to bored housewives, overworked cubicle drones, and excitable children.
This isn't where you thought you'd be at twenty-three. You dropped out of university, you barely make minimum wage, and you live in an office as an act of charity from your boss. How did it come to sitting here, resting wet hair against peeling paint, you wonder.
You bring your knees up to your chest, listening to the rain and trying to ignore Henry. He's stayed behind to talk to you again, all charm and empty smile and I-don't-want-to-be-alone-with-him vibes. You want to tell him to fuck off, but he basically pays your wages with how much shit he buys through the club.
"Hey," you say, trying not to sound like you want to be anywhere else.
"That was a tough one, eh?" he asks, and his gratingly Canadian voice sets you on edge.
"Yeah, Ivo's not exactly a laid back guy. It pays off, though," you say, notice Henry step forward a little. It's not much, but it calls attention to how much closer he's gotten. You look into his eyes, and you know there's nothing behind them. Just the beast, a nameless, primal hunger.
He rushes forward, and you roll out of the way. Suddenly, he's fast. Real fast. You take your practice blade, hold it with practised ease, and go to town on the creep. Your first blow is fast and precise, strong and swift. If you were wielding a real blade, if this were a past age, Henry would be dead. In this more civilised age, he'll only have a broken arm.
Only your first blow lands with a crack against his arm. Wood splinters, and not bone. His fist slams into your stomach like he's a heavyweight boxer, not a weedy sysadmin, You stagger back, and you see the fangs in his smile. You see what he is, and you stand. You spit out blood and hold up a broken piece of wood. You look into the eyes of the beast, and he flinches.
Your forehead burns, and time slows. Your whole body burns gold, strength filling you. Light pulses out from you, an almost physical thing. Henry steps back, and your fist flies out. He screams, and you feel his wrist snap. You move with inhuman, precise speed.
A kick shatters his right kneecap, and you avoid a desperate haymaker with a gentle touch. You leap into a flip, connecting with his jaw as you go. Teeth fly everywhere, and you rush forward. Golden light trails behind your broken practice sword and you do your best buffy impression.
You scream, and you slam your broken bit of wood straight into his heart with both hands. The sheer force of it sends Henry flying backward. He slams into the back wall of the club, stiff and unmoving. Dust and paint chips rise into the air, and you look at your hands. They're covered in his blood, but none of your own.
Golden light surrounds you, slowly fading from the brilliance of the sun. You cut a stark silhouette against it - a young woman, lean and athletic. Your dirty-blonde hair frames the burning sigil of light on your forehead well, and your eyes burn bright gold for a few moments more.
You crouch down and look at Henry. His eyes dart this way and that and he looks remarkably alive for a vampire you've just staked through the heart. Or anything you've just pierced straight through the heart, for that matter.
That brings you to a question you'd never thought you'd be asking: what to do with the vampire you just beat the shit out of?
[x] Try and find a way to kill it. It tried to eat you and has probably done so to others before.
[x] You need to find out more about these creatures, and Henry is your only information source. Keep him alive for now.
[x] Write in.
This is a quest using the rules and setting of
Exalted vs the World of Darkness. There will be dice rolls, a character sheet, xp to spend, etc. Despite the name, this is a more general WoD interpretation.
