- [Vampire Lord Inkume] -
“Let me think about it for a moment,” replies Inkume to her question, buying himself a minute.
A breeze whispers through the towering trees, their twisted branches reaching out toward the star-studded sky. The air is crisp, tinged with the faint aroma of wood smoke carried from some distant hearth. The moon hangs low and heavy, bathing the world in a silvery glow that casts deep shadows along the winding path. Inkume walks with a measured pace, his cloak billowing dramatically behind him, each footfall nearly silent on the carpet of damp leaves. Beside him pads Bark, her massive form moving with the effortless grace of a deity long forgotten.
Mist clings to the air, filling his nostrils with the scent of damp moss and decaying foliage. The chill bites at his skin — not that he minds. Darkness suits him; it always has. He’s always had the suspicion that, as the Vampire Lord, he would look like a dweeb dressed as he is during the daylight hours. But at night, he can pull it off.
— This is perhaps even more critical to his role than the whole ‘sunlight burning him alive’ matter.
They walk without speaking at first, the quiet punctuated only by the soft rustle of underbrush and the distant hoot of an unseen owl. Inkume's thoughts drift to the weight of the awkwardness in the air that he is masterfully pretending isn’t real and that he is entirely unaffected by.
There sure have been a lot of, uh, ‘developments’ these last few nights.
Inkume glances sideways at Bark, her fur shimmering under the moon’s gaze, each strand reflecting a faint luminescence. The moon is back out again, and so she’s returned to her usual state. Her presence is both calming and disquieting.
He comes up with some suitable nonsense to reply to her with. “Being strong isn't a choice for people like us, Bark,” he says finally, his voice barely louder than the wind. “It's a necessity,” explains Inkume, his hands behind his back as they walk together. He nods his head toward the castle. “Others rely on us to stand firm, to protect them from what’s coming. People, monsters, whatever,” he explains. “It doesn’t matter. Something is always coming for everybody.”
Bark snorts softly, golden eyes reflecting the moonlight. She slows her pace, letting him draw even with her shoulder. “You know what I think I’ve learned?” she asks. He shakes his head, her gaze wandering up past the forest’s many crowns toward the emptying sky. “Strength is just an illusion,” she replies, her voice a low rumble that seems to vibrate through the air. “You chase it, thinking it matters, but fate doesn't care about your strength, Inkume,” explains the goddess. “When the universe decides that it’s time for you to lose everything you love, you’re going to lose it no matter what you think you can do about it.”
He frowns, the words striking a chord he would rather ignore. In a way, she has a point.
‘Fate’, for lack of better terms, has been making itself present to him over and over again ever since he was reborn in this new life. Some unseen force in the cosmos is determined to make him perform the forbidden ritual to end all sunlight and bring about the Night that Never Ends and he’s been working his hardest to stave that off. But sometimes he has the feeling that it doesn’t matter what he does because some contrived chain of events will force his hand regardless of what he’s done to try and prepare.
He supposes Bark feels like she reached the end of that same road herself already, some many hundreds of years ago when she was unable to protect her followers from the old Vampire Lord.
But he can’t tell her that he thinks she has a point. It would be too demoralizing for her for one, and she’s clearly trying to provoke something out of him. Bark is always challenging him in one way or another; it might just be her nature.
“Fate favors the strong. The weak are always swept aside,” replies Inkume in a cold tone, taking on the expectations of his position. “But we can still reach out and grab hold of those others before the tide rushes them away,” explains the Vampire Lord, stretching out a hand to hold it against the side of her giant front leg. She glances at him from the side of her eyes. “I think there’s always a little leeway in these matters,” notes Inkume, rubbing her for a second before returning his hand to the fold behind his back.
She flicks an ear, dismissive. “You know, I really used to believe that too,” replies the wolf goddess. Inkume looks around the forest, watching as a group of dark fairies quickly bolt away, sensing them approaching. They’ve learned their lesson about messing with him. “I carried the weight of their hopes and their fears, thinking my power could shield them from everything,” explains Bark, referring to her killed followers from a long since passed life. “I thought if I was strong enough, then life would just happen to me and not to everyone around me. But destiny doesn't bend for anyone — not for goddesses, and not for lords,” explains Bark, sounding very convinced of herself. “When life decides it’s going to take everything you have, even you’ll never be strong enough to hold on to a single hand, Vampire Lord.”
“You can call me by my actual name, you know,” he notes. Inkume does feel a stir of resentment at that statement. Her words echo uncomfortably close to his own doubts, the whispers that haunt him when the nights grow too long. He’s powerful now, yes. But as he’s grown into his role, he’s grown powerfully attached to those here with him — his new friends and family. He feels dutifully bound to protect them. What if he isn’t enough to actually do that, though?
But perhaps this is the same way she once felt too, back then.
However, he can’t let her be right about the matter. Because if she is, then everything he is doing and working for is pointless, isn’t it? He could have just as well sat in the bath for the last few months and never stirred a single muscle if what fate wants to happen is going to happen entirely regardless of his efforts and troubles. The thought of his work being null and void is one matter, but the thought of his being unable to safekeep those he promised himself to protect is another. He has to choose to believe that there is some play in the matters of destiny — some wiggle room — that a person can achieve for themselves even while firmly stuck on the rails pre-laid by God and Heaven above, should such a thing exist.
He picks up a fallen branch, absently twirling it before tossing it aside into the darkness. To his humor, he can see Bark’s fine muscle fibers twitch as she fights down an instinct to chase after the stick into the forest. “I think that’s wrong,” replies Inkume, needing it to be. “I think that kind of talk allows you to run from your responsibilities because you get to say that nothing actually matters anyway,” explains the Vampire Lord. He stops, looking at her. “But Bark, running from responsibility because you think it doesn’t matter doesn't actually absolve you from it,” he remarks sharply and then steps toward her, ready to talk openly to defuse this bomb before it explodes. “In my opinion, you hide behind fatalism because it's easier than facing your own failure,” accuses Inkume, holding out an arm, his cloak billowing out with it. “You blame yourself for not being strong enough, but you can pretend that it didn’t matter because it was ‘fate’.”
Bark stops, her enormous form casting a shadow over him. “Be very careful,” she warns, a growl underlying her words. “Don’t think I won’t tear you apart just because of what happened between us,” says the goddess, narrowing her eyes. “In fact, it might just make it even more likely to happen.”
He steps forward, unabashed. “Am I wrong?” asks Inkume. “After what happened to you, you lost faith and retreated into solitude,” he says, knowing the feeling from his old life. “Why haven't you sought new followers? Why not reclaim your place among the divine?” asks the Vampire Lord, tapping the side of his head. “You can’t really be a ‘goddess’ if you don’t have a single worshipper,” says Inkume, shrugging. “You’re just a big wolf.”
Her eyes narrow deeper, and for a moment, silence stretches between them. The forest seems to hold its breath. “You're treading on dangerous ground,” she growls, lowering her massive head toward him. The heat of her breath washes over him.
The two of them stare at each other from up close. A tense silence fills the forest as she bares her fangs, and he remains there, with his hands behind his back.
He is going pretty hard on her, but in a way that makes no sense to anyone outside of their dynamic. This is what she’s after. Bark’s not great at open communication, but in the context of a fight or a challenge, she can say what she wants to say. Outside of that domain, however, she’s stuck and toothless. In an odd, backward way, despite everything she is, she’s really an entirely helpless creature.
Inkume leans in toward her. “You don’t actually believe that fate and things like that are real.” He shakes his head. “You just want them to be, because it means you can get away with it not having been your fault.”
“It wasn’t my fault!” she snarls at him as they reach the core of their deep therapy. The air grows tense, crackling with unspoken energy. Bark's lips pull back, revealing sharp fangs.
He crosses his arms, meeting her gaze unflinchingly. “Then enlighten me. Because if you were stronger, you could have stopped him, is what I think you think,” he says, saying what she herself thinks as well but won’t admit because she’s locked herself into a cage of sorts regarding the matter. “But you took it too easy for too long, and you blame yourself for that. That’s what all of this is.”
A low rumble builds in her chest. “Enough!” barks Bark in a barking tone, the dead bark of the nearby trees peeling off from the rumble. “You want to talk; vampire, then let’s talk my way.” She steps back, muscles tensing beneath her fur.
Inkume raises a hand, attempting to placate her. “Now, now. There's no need for that. I don’t want to hurt you again,” he says, brushing his hair to the side as if not bothered in the least.
His first fight against Bark he only won by a fluke, and his second one he managed to trick her.
Her growl deepens. “Talking won't change your arrogance as much as a good beating will.” She lowers her head, eyes locked onto him. “Fight me.”
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He sighs, but there's a flicker of anticipation in his eyes. “You really want to do this now?” he asks dryly. “You’ve lost every fight we’ve ever had,” explains Inkume plainly, knowing that he can’t actually talk her down now that’s she riled up.
This was the expected outcome, of course. It’s a bit like a controlled fire being needed to prevent a worse blaze in the future. But he still needs to deal with the consequences of it all now.
She paws the ground, massive claws carving into the soil.
“Fine. If that's what you want,” replies Inkume, sounding at best somewhat annoyed by the matter.
They move apart, each taking positions amid the shadows and moonlight. The wind picks up, carrying the scent of tension and the promise of conflict. Leaves swirl around them, and the forest seems to fade away, leaving only the two of them locked in a silent standoff.
Inkume feels his power surging, dark energy coalescing around his hands. He studies her carefully, noting the way her muscles coil, ready to spring. “Last chance to back down,” he says coolly.
Bark's patience snaps. With a mighty leap, she closes the gap between them in an instant. Inkume vanishes, dodging swiftly, shadows wrapping around him as he slides to the side in the form of a gnat. Her claws graze the space where he stood moments before, tearing through the air with a force that sends a gust whipping past him.
Inkume has used: [Midnight Monster: Gnat]
The Vampire Lord stands there on the side of her, in the shape of a man. Nobody knows how lame his secret ‘teleportation’ actually works. Thankfully, it just looks cool when he vanishes and reappears a second later.
He holds his hand over his mouth, making a loud yawning sound. Bark snarls, crashing down with a violent thunder right where he was, but he simply vanishes again.
“Oh. I think I felt some wind that time,” he taunts, appearing a second later on her back.
The giant wolf thrashes, throwing him off, but he vanishes again.
“Fight me!” she howls, her yellow eyes staring around at the darkness of the forest. “No more games,” says the giant creature, the weight of her body sinking into the soft ground. Her eyes catch him, simply standing there ahead of her now on ground level.
He’s looking at his nails. “Okay, if you insist,” he remarks, barely lifting his eyes.
Bark lunges again, but this time he meets her head-on. All he does is hold out his hand, the brunt of her titanic weight smashing against his open palm as if she had crashed into a rock. Their powers collide. The impact sends shockwaves through the ground, leaves exploding upward in a whirlwind as the trees nearby bend. The forest around them reacts to their clash — a chorus of night creatures falls silent.
Smiling, his hand exactly what it was, now resting against the top of her head, moves. His fingers rise and fall as he calmly scratches the spot behind her large ear.
“See?” asks Inkume. “I feel pretty good right now about having worked to become stronger every night,” says the Vampire Lord with a mocking whimsey in his voice. “Would have been pretty bad for me if I hadn’t,” he remarks, turning his head to look at her. The power of her growling chest vibrates through him, shaking the rocks at his boots, making it look like they’re running away in fear as well.
It definitely looks like he’s strong as all hell, effortlessly holding back the giant that is pressing against him with the brunt of her weight that towers over him.
But the truth is that he isn’t really. He’s exactly as strong as he needs to be, not because of his actual power but because of the usual nonsense.
[Hey, Hold my Blood] Passive Ability • In order to preserve your immaculate appearance in front of others so that they know their place at your feet, you will never lose an honorable duel when watched by an admirer, unless doing so would make you look even better in their eyes.
The game was rigged from the start. But Bark doesn’t need to know that.
— She is an admirer of his, after all. As ill-advised as that might be.
In an instant, he grabs the scruff of her fur and latches onto her head with his other hand at the same time, and the wolf — ten times his size — flips over off of her feet as he twists her around. The forest shakes, the trees rattling, as her back slams down onto the ground following after the turn of her head and neck. The vibration travels out into the distance, birds far off toward the horizon scared from their nests and into the night.
[Lightweight, Baby] Passive Ability • No matter what a fair maiden of any race weighs, you can effortlessly carry her back to your dark lair to devour whole, as being seen as struggling to do so would inspire strength in your enemies.
Inkume stands there, his hands stuck in her twisted fur, dust and detritus flying up through the air all around them as the night settles back down into silence. She lies there, flat on her back, her four legs then slowly flopping over to the side. Her head remains turned, gazing up toward the dark sky above them. There’s a loud thudding as her paws hit the dirt. Then, slowly, her head turns sideways as she lies there.
“...Was that it?” asks Bark, not really asking him in particular.
“Yeah,” replies Inkume, letting go of her. The vampire looks down at her one large eye, looking up past him, open, and watching the night. He lifts his gaze, staring at the sky too, and then sits on the ground, leaning back against her. “That was it,” he explains simply.
A loud, slow exhalation comes from behind him.
In silence, the two of them stare at the sky as it shifts and changes in accordance to the brushstrokes of the cloudy paint, being swept across its black canvas by the hand of an unseen painter.
“I guess you really are strong,” she concedes, her chest deflating. Her raised ear twitches, flapping around once as she bats away a disturbance from it — likely the concession of her own words — a hard thing to have to stand. “— Inkume.”
Inkume thinks, his knees scooted up and his arms resting over them as the back of his head rests against the top of her head.
“No,” says the Vampire Lord. “This is all just a bunch of bullshit, really,” he admits, shaking his head as they stare at the night. “But you already knew that.”
Her yellow eye, having been watching him from its side, turns back up toward the stars above. “You talk a good talker,” she concedes.
“I’m just some guy,” says Inkume, thinking back to the road that brought him here. “If anyone knows about fate doing what it wants to do regardless of your opinion on the matter, it’s me,” he explains. Inkume lifts his hands up toward the sky. “But here I am, the great and powerful Vampire Lord, revered and feared by the quaking hearts of men.” He sighs, his hands falling back down. “I just want to live quietly and in peace with the people who matter to me.”
“So why don’t you?” she asks. “All of this… this noise with the castle, the adventurers — everything. Why even bother?”
Inkume stares at the night for a while, looking at the missing gaps in the heavens. Each empty space is proof of his growth — for better or worse, given that he somehow ‘steals’ one every time he levels up again.
He’s not sure how many stars there are in total, but the roughly thousand he should be able to make vanish in theory is certainly noticeable from where he sits right now. They all seem to be vanishing from a central cluster, above and around the castle itself. This has created a very noticeable patch in the night sky that is hard to deny the presence of.
“Because it matters,” explains the Vampire Lord quietly. He reaches his arm out to the side, resting it on her face. But his eyes trace the clouds. “Being strong matters. Even if maybe fate is going to do whatever it wants at the end of the night with the things that matter to it, regardless of my efforts,” starts Inkume, letting out a deep breath. “Because maybe, when it comes to the other things — the ones that matter to me, well…” He shakes his head. “Maybe those things aren’t the same ones that are tangled up in destiny, and maybe they’re really just up to me to deal with.” Inkume looks down at her. “When that moment comes, I wouldn’t want to find out too late that I should have been someone better.”
She scoffs, letting out an odd noise that is somewhere between a sneeze, a grunt, and a pained sigh. “Pretty words as always, ‘Some Guy’,” remarks Bark.
“I had a great teacher,” explains Inkume with a solemn smile, clasping his hands together and bowing his head in a quick prayer.
Thank you, Master Matthew.
"Well, I’d like to meet whatever creature could produce something like you,” says Bark as she pulls her legs in and then slowly turns over, rising back up onto her feet. She shakes herself out, sticks and whatever else of the forest she crushed, shaking out of her fur and flying into the trees like shrapnel.
“I don’t think you’d like him,” remarks Inkume, looking at her as he gets back onto his feet. “He’s a little two-dimensional,” explains the Vampire Lord, placing a hand on his hip and swiping a glistening, beautiful strand of perfect hair out of his face. Sparkles drift through the night, catching the moon’s glow like wayward stardust.
The Vampire Lord nods his head to the side. “Want to keep going?” he asks. “The night is still young.”
Bark nods to him, turning and making a point of swiping at him with her massive tail. “I’d love to,” replies the wolf goddess. “But maybe you should get back to the castle,” she explains as the two of them walk back together. “Apparently, people need you there.”
“How troublesome,” sighs the Vampire Lord, his hand resting on her side as they walk back together.
They begin down the way again, side by side but in silence. The path ahead is uncertain, much like their own hearts. Yet for this moment, they share a quiet camaraderie — a small step toward something neither can quite define.
As they move from out deeper in the forest, the sounds of night slowly return. The hoot of an owl, the rustle of small creatures in the underbrush, the gentle murmur of leaves stirred by a kinder breeze.
It’s almost enchanting.
----------------------------------------
- [Dorime, the Hero] -
It’s fucking horrifying.
Dorime — Sarah — clutches herself, letting out a shrill scream as a shape swoops overhead. Some kind of owl or bat, or maybe a hell-demon. Fuck if she knows. What even is this world?!
Standing by herself outside in the darkness, she turns her head, looking around herself.
Where is she…?
The hero turns her head back, looking down the way she came that — in theory — leads back to Schwarzmond city. Probably. She doesn’t actually know. She’s a little lost, it would seem.
Her eyes scan the darkness around her. Trees bow and sway in the heavy night wind, their full branches of leaves singing a bitter autumn song. It’s cold as ice, and it cuts straight through her armor. The cloak on her back billows in the wind, and she grabs it, wrapping it around herself like a blanket as she walks toward what is probably the right direction.
The giant, ominous mountain toward the horizon, surrounded by fog, a sea of forests, and a pitch-black night sky would seem to hint that it is.
What in the world did she get herself into? She was just going to the bookstore because of a social engagement she didn’t really want to be a part of but was too nervous to decline, and now somehow she’s ended up here.
Something cracks behind her.
The hero looks, seeing a pair of glowing, yellow eyes staring out of the underbrush her way — the slant of a predator’s gaze in their form. She lets out a scream and bolts, running into the night, her sword in hand as she swings it around wildly in all directions. The wind, the air, and any ghosts who happen to be in the vicinity feel the scorn of her restless, justice-seeking blade. But that’s about it.
Dorime vanishes into the distance, although her voice can be heard for a while still.
As for the eyes, it’s just some curious fox.