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tampered2006-12-24 11:04 am
favored-son.livejournal.com) wrote in tampered2006-12-24 11:04 am
Log: Complete
When: Decemeber 24th
Rating: Teen for blood and Left Hand being a jerk.
Characters: Vampire Hunter D (open to Integral and Alucard)
Summary: There are, on occasion, vampires who temporarily get the best of D. Sometimes, it's painful. Sometimes, it's downright embarrassing. And then, to top it all off, the poor dhampir winds up in a city that he's pretty sure doesn't exist on the Frontier.
Log:
For such a young Noble, Baron Clapham had proven to be a painfully clever opponent. D would have berated himself for his carelessness if the parasite residing in his left hand hadn't already started in on him.
"What the hell were you thinking? I don't care whose son you are. Nobody can survive being staked out in this wasteland, least of all someone with vampire blood, especially when they used hawthorn! And of course you didn't bother to stop and let me eat, so there's not a whole lot of good I can do right now. Are you even listening to me, D? I can't believe you fell for that stupid incense again. How many times does that make it now? If your mother were--MMPH!"
The parasite fell silent as D clenched his bloodied hand into a fist. "I don't need your help right now," the dhampir stated calmly. He glanced at the sky and noted the sun's position. Another hour until the light and heat would be at their worst. If he intended to free himself and still be able to move afterwards, he would have to work quickly. The baron's mutants had grown tired of watching him not long ago, and retreated to the shelter of their master's castle. D knew they thought him as good as dead. If he'd been an average dhampir, their assessment would have been accurate. He had been bleeding for several hours now, his life seeping out slowly past the hawthorn stakes that had been driven into his wrists and calves to the hard-packed soil on which he laid. Time-bewitching incense had frozen his body just long enough for the semi-human beasts to secure him.
At least, D reflected, Baron Clapham was the arrogant, melodramatic type. Things would have been far more difficult if the mutants had simply cut his head off.
Taking a deep breath, the hunter steeled himself for the effort he was about to put forth. He had no choice but to rip free of either the stakes or the ground by brute force. D closed his eyes for a moment, thought of the power that slipped into his veins when the sun went down, and pulled.
D screamed as his right arm and both legs tore away from the stakes holding them. He rolled onto his side, breathing hard, and grasped the last remaining stake, yanking it out with a fierce growl. The wounds bled sluggishly for several moments as he lay still and quiet. When the thick flow of red had stopped, D struggled to his feet and bent his efforts towards the matter of transportation.
"I can't believe you just did that," his partner grumbled.
"Save your energy," the dhampir admonished, "or at least be useful and see what you can do about the wounds." His voice was distant, distracted. It was more difficult to summon his horse from this distance with half his blood soaked into the parched earth beneath his feet.
Eventually, the steady four-beat rhythm of a galloping horse's hooves reached his ears. Several minutes passed before the cyborg stallion crested a low hill. It skidded to a halt at its master's side, and dropped to its knees. D pulled himself into the saddle, and with a careful touch on the horse's mind, directed it to find shelter. By the time the sun reached its zenith, the beast had borne its rider into the cool depths of a moderately-sized cave. D sat straight in his saddle, despite his weakness, as the animal stepped deeper into the darkness, as if drawn by a power beyond the dhampir's own.
When the small group suddenly stepped from the darkness of the cave into a city that couldn't possibly exist, they were all understandably surprised.
Well ... maybe not the horse. He didn't much care where he was so long as he wasn't about to die.
Rating: Teen for blood and Left Hand being a jerk.
Characters: Vampire Hunter D (open to Integral and Alucard)
Summary: There are, on occasion, vampires who temporarily get the best of D. Sometimes, it's painful. Sometimes, it's downright embarrassing. And then, to top it all off, the poor dhampir winds up in a city that he's pretty sure doesn't exist on the Frontier.
Log:
For such a young Noble, Baron Clapham had proven to be a painfully clever opponent. D would have berated himself for his carelessness if the parasite residing in his left hand hadn't already started in on him.
"What the hell were you thinking? I don't care whose son you are. Nobody can survive being staked out in this wasteland, least of all someone with vampire blood, especially when they used hawthorn! And of course you didn't bother to stop and let me eat, so there's not a whole lot of good I can do right now. Are you even listening to me, D? I can't believe you fell for that stupid incense again. How many times does that make it now? If your mother were--MMPH!"
The parasite fell silent as D clenched his bloodied hand into a fist. "I don't need your help right now," the dhampir stated calmly. He glanced at the sky and noted the sun's position. Another hour until the light and heat would be at their worst. If he intended to free himself and still be able to move afterwards, he would have to work quickly. The baron's mutants had grown tired of watching him not long ago, and retreated to the shelter of their master's castle. D knew they thought him as good as dead. If he'd been an average dhampir, their assessment would have been accurate. He had been bleeding for several hours now, his life seeping out slowly past the hawthorn stakes that had been driven into his wrists and calves to the hard-packed soil on which he laid. Time-bewitching incense had frozen his body just long enough for the semi-human beasts to secure him.
At least, D reflected, Baron Clapham was the arrogant, melodramatic type. Things would have been far more difficult if the mutants had simply cut his head off.
Taking a deep breath, the hunter steeled himself for the effort he was about to put forth. He had no choice but to rip free of either the stakes or the ground by brute force. D closed his eyes for a moment, thought of the power that slipped into his veins when the sun went down, and pulled.
D screamed as his right arm and both legs tore away from the stakes holding them. He rolled onto his side, breathing hard, and grasped the last remaining stake, yanking it out with a fierce growl. The wounds bled sluggishly for several moments as he lay still and quiet. When the thick flow of red had stopped, D struggled to his feet and bent his efforts towards the matter of transportation.
"I can't believe you just did that," his partner grumbled.
"Save your energy," the dhampir admonished, "or at least be useful and see what you can do about the wounds." His voice was distant, distracted. It was more difficult to summon his horse from this distance with half his blood soaked into the parched earth beneath his feet.
Eventually, the steady four-beat rhythm of a galloping horse's hooves reached his ears. Several minutes passed before the cyborg stallion crested a low hill. It skidded to a halt at its master's side, and dropped to its knees. D pulled himself into the saddle, and with a careful touch on the horse's mind, directed it to find shelter. By the time the sun reached its zenith, the beast had borne its rider into the cool depths of a moderately-sized cave. D sat straight in his saddle, despite his weakness, as the animal stepped deeper into the darkness, as if drawn by a power beyond the dhampir's own.
When the small group suddenly stepped from the darkness of the cave into a city that couldn't possibly exist, they were all understandably surprised.
Well ... maybe not the horse. He didn't much care where he was so long as he wasn't about to die.