By Cederick Kuneraze
Book I: Introducing the Raven
Chapter I: Losing Himself
He finds himself awake in the large chamber used for dueling. The majestic lights from the candelabra-esque chandelier rained ominously down on his mutilated body, which, had he not been slightly dragging himself down the corridor, could have been mistaken as an old geezer's rotting corpse. He had lied on the floor for maybe hours, maybe days, after his courageous if not idiotic decision to bout with Daemi, the mercenary recruited by his father to cover up the deceit and treachery of his family.
Over many hours, he regained enough strength to walk ever so slowly out of the mausoleum and into a nearby town, Nielston. He straggled into a nearby pub, many eyed him with either overwhelm over his many wounds, or extreme hate for disturbing their conversations with his entrance. He made it to the bar and slowly sat on the closest stool he could get to. "Keeper. Bottle. of blood. please."
"We don't serve your kind here, vampire," The barkeep said before getting lifted up by the neck, Kiyejer's sharp vampiric claws digging deeply into the flesh of his neck.
"You will do it, or consider yourself a permanent donor, got it?" Kiyejer said, ticked off at the bartender. He let the man down and the man ran into the kitchen as quick as he could.
The whole tavern was so silent; you could hear the cold flapping of butterfly wings. The man came back with a bottle of the warm dark red liquid that Kiyejer so needed to survive. "There you go, oh, and if we ever meet again, remind me not to piss you off."
The bartender left the room, right hand massaging his neck. The room fell again into quiet as he began to drink the bottle. Then, suddenly a few people gathered around him. One of them knocked the bottle out of his hand to go crashing into pieces on the ground.
"You don't belong here, vampire. We've had enough of those aristocrats of Blood Mountain. You're one of them aren't you?" The other fumbles for a gun as Kiyejer pulls out a katana and points it at one of their heads.
"I wouldn't do that, unless of course, you want to be pulled inside out. But, hey, it's your choice." Kiyejer said before the men scowled and walked away reluctantly.
Suddenly, a cloaked figure walked in, hood over his face and multiple decorations clanging against each other. The ominous figure slowly but surely sat beside him, and it was then that he noticed the decorations in full. Not merely were they for image, no, they were for display. Every white charm, when in full view declared it's own identity, echoing into the fathoms of Kiyejer's mind. Not mere charms were these, nor was this a normal man. He was a vampire hunter.
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