A vampire gentleman of some repute in his own corner of the world was napping comfortably in his puffy chair. Where in this world was he? Indeterminate as far as he was concerned, likely somewhere in Europe considering the accents he was surrounded by. He had one of his own but it had been a couple centuries since his homeland was relevant to his own interests. Where in time was he? Also irrelevant, his style was gathered from the local evening markets. There were some pretty frills and puffy sleeves which he found more comfortable than he originally expected. Last he checked it was somewhere in the 1800's but once more, he stopped bothering to keep track. He was of the old blood, one of several dozen bloodlines that dates back a thousand years, perhaps even two. His face contorted into that of a bat when the call of the blood demanded him to feed himself, or perhaps at times when he just felt like it. The world suited him just fine, and some decades ago he had essentially retired to a special cliffside estate.
A marvel of an estate it was, built inside a mountain that was originally commissioned to have the recent invention that was steam powered locomotives, later to be dubbed as trains, to fly through the mountain in a winding path. This idea was shot down and shelved, but the local vampire hierarchy still scammed the officials out of the funding needed to make such a plan happen and replaced it with their own; a Grand, multilayered hotel of a thing. The eventual structure was borrowed from their fellow vampiric neighbors in Mexico. Now, this particular vampire in question was hired on to deal with the money involved in such a coup, and was just given a room and office as he managed to filter their crimes through the ages, though in this case he had only been employed for a couple of decades. They kept him comfortable due to his importance, as he was dubbed ‘the money man’. As time went on, it became an absolute nexus of vampire kind. A bastion of trade, pleasure, and influence. It would go on to house hundreds within its walls, and the hallways became busier than a festival in New York.
Something was wrong, he managed to notice. One of his pets, sheepish and terrified, stammered out an emphasis while pointing at the man’s face. Confused, he reached up and noticed that his glamour spell had faded (he was reaching up in the years, and had to resort to magic to keep his visage applicably young). This was odd, he thought, considering that glamour spells require very little effort and can even maintain beyond sleep. There was also a spot of tinnitus in his ears, something he hadn’t experienced since his turning. Also very odd. He stepped up from his nab and located a nearby mirror. Worthless to him, as his old blood did not allow for a reflection but they still had their uses; that of communication. Indeed, like the fairy tales that even his age are familiar with… mirrors were used as a form of long range contact. He hadn’t bothered learning the art of telepathy, only for a short range across-the-household type of way. He felt the faux-silver lining of the mirror and found that his call went… unanswered. Well, that was irregular. He felt his heart sink, if not beat just a touch, as he heard a frantic shuffling of steps all around him and heightened vocals. It hit him then; The estate had just been mass dispelled. They were under attack.
The sounds and feelings of the attack were like nothing he had heard or felt before. A loud booming, not unlike cannonfire but precise. The foundations shook, and he started hearing the vocals become further frantic yelling. He told his pet to flee and inform others, and she did as he commanded, running off into parts unknown or rather, irrelevant, for this retelling. He ran into the hallways and immediately, the wooden fixtures in the hallways exploded and splintered around behind him. The shards of which, large enough to have impaled and ashed a few of his neighbors. The sight alone shocked him, the mere suddenness of such an explosion. The frantic vocals of the estate had now become outright screaming, and he only took a few steps before the foundations crumbled beneath him, his movement became entirely out of his control and he fell through the floor and landed one floor below, where he managed to regain his composure fairly quickly and delve deeper into the halls.
He had recalled the test of naval artillery when it was first being introduced to the French military, but the sounds he was hearing were far too rapid for his understanding. Try as he did, he could not find any proper cannonballs lodged into the walls. The holes were also far too narrow, though certainly large in their own right.
He yelled out commands and orders, and most of them were related to getting into the undercroft so that all may flee into the relative safety of the inner mountain. He found one of the higher nobles, having retreated to the residential areas to give like minded orders. She recognized this gentleman and quickly approached him.
“Do you know what is happening?”
“No, no, I was just…” He tried to reply but before they had a chance to blink, a sharp and deafening sound shot through the hall around them. Some form of projectile had just entered her throat, only allowing her a shocked cough before she immediately burned into ash, followed by another explosion that sent her ashed corpse straight into him. It was if some green magic had entered her neck and engulfed her jawline before fading entirely. Madness, he thought, what manner of weapon could kill a vampire so damned quickly? Some kind of chemical, he thought, entered her veins but did not have nearly enough time to act as a poison. She was just shot and then… gone.
Her ash had entered his nostrils and lungs at this point, causing some coughing. He tried to regain his composure but the shock of the situation begins setting in while one, overbearing directive enters his mind: Survive.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
He fled, through the hallways and towards the stairs. The very floor he stood upon buckled and cracked at various points, causing him to have had to jump across a small gap. He went down a single flight of stairs, and the entire woodworks were crackling. The red and black themed rugs were slipping through said breaks, and he had a moment to look up as others came behind him. The stairs cracked too severely and some fell, but the force of the stairs snapped by and impaled another woman, ashing her immediately. The cries of her followers were seen and heard as they jumped down after this gentleman, and he gave the universal signal to continue onward. He did as well, fleeing through the gothic hallways and trying to make his way towards one of the main lobbies or lounges, the nexus in which the various wings were connected.
He had made it, following the sounds of terrified shrieks but another realization came upon him as a hallway that flanked the direct outside was breached. It was roughly noontime, a point of horror when the cornered roof above them exploded open, leaving the shine of sunlight to unleash its wrath upon several vampiric civilians, killing several instantly in a painful display of fire and seared flesh. Sunlight can be survival for some bloodlines, but some succumb to it within seconds and he was surrounded by very old blood, where the sun holds incredible sway over their lives. He continued on.
He found another hallway to traverse (there were many, after all!) but his advance was blocked by another explosion, trapping dozens. After witnessing another bout of ashing, he found himself in a position of proper investigation. The sunlight was not beaming at the immediate angle that would do him harm, and this allowed him to peer outside to find out what was attacking. He could barely comprehend what he was seeing. A type of ship that was flying on its own, no sails, and had the silver sheen of pure metal. It had mounted guns beneath instead of atop, which he recognized and were horrifically put to use as they let loose upon the crackled hallway where many vampires were trapped by the sheen of sunlight. Most died, but not before he had the abysmal memory of watching limbs fly off from being shot from some kind of enlarged bullet which he had never seen the likes of before. His reflexes and senses allowed him to see the shape of it, but they were still far faster than the rifles he had seen before.
Horror, madness, murder, was all he could think of. So many of this estate were simple civilians, working for the higher nobles to keep the vampiric hierarchy running. Through the likes of himself and his superiors, they were simply operating to keep the peace with the outside world and to make sure no harm could be done to either side. It was all he could think about, but what could have enticed such a brutal attack. He knew of some of the darker elements that his superiors would get up to, but even then if evidence was mounted then surely justice would have been served? This is nothing but a slaughter, he thought.
He hadn’t the time to dwell on what manner of sorcery or technology that was assaulting them, but that particular route was no longer viable. As he turned back, once again the foundation buckled and cracked, and he was forced once again one floor below. He quickly saw a shattered log fire upon him, and he narrowly avoided the same fate he saw so many others befall. Everything shook at all times, but he was in the position to face the lobby he was seeking, which had access to more points of escape.
He ran on through, finally getting what would be at ground level. At least, as ground level as the cliffside allowed, but near one of the several main entrances that at least held the stables and horses. He found a small family, some of which he recognized. There were several, not all related but adopted each other through time and bond. An old blooded vampire matriarch, her face contorted into batlike features not for thirst, but for battle. However, there was no fighting, there was only fear. All their hopes for an escape were quickly annihilated as some of the roofing collapsed in just the way to force sunlight near the front. They could go back, but everything was collapsing around them. They were trapped, and he approached the huddled few to help protect them and give time to think of plans.
Beyond the matriarch, there were two younger men, three women, and two vampiric children, neither could have been older than eight or ten. One of them was fully turned, but the scent of the bloodline was unfamiliar, and the older of them might have been stuck in that youth’s body for some time. They barely spoke at all, as a loud humming engulfed the collapsed nexus. A type of fan perhaps, but far too loud, and the dust of wind and ashes washed over the group as they heard footsteps approach the wreckage of the entrance.
Deep, heavy footsteps entered the front door, or what could be considered the remains of a front door. Through the ash that seemed to have been permanently affixed to the air surrounding them all, a pair of glowing red eyes was seen through the veil. They seemed to smoke on their own, a magic he did not recognize without proper study. As the creature approached, he once more could not recognize the technology they wielded.
It was a man. Massive, something to the tune of eight feet or so and the broadness to match, that of an incredible warrior. His armor looked like plate or steel, but was layered oddly. It also clicked has he stepped, as well as some lights throughout that were sharp, small, and precise. It was once again like nothing he had ever seen. His eyes drifted towards the massive hammer he wielded in a single hand, easily half of his own height. A special, runed hammerhead that was crackling with some red-orange energy that matched the man’s own eyes. His grin, filled with wickedness and untoward thoughts. His teeth were unnatural as well, pointed in their own way but not like a vampire’s. More of a demonic nature, but he couldn’t tell.
All the gentleman could ask was, “What are you…?”
The voice of the being was deep, guttural, and coordinated. His words were carefully chosen, if strangely playful, and seemed to originate straight from his deepest bowels, “I am the result of thousands of years of your kinds baaaaad decisions..”
Then, he lifted his hammer to bring it down and… there was nothing at all.