Mia 2, 81381 <span style='font-family:times'><span style='font-size:10pt;line-height:100%'> A mysterious flier hung on a wall next to an alleyway. It read: - Wanted - Talented young 'dragons, with a nack for the dark arts. To be recruited. Serving under, Gorrath. A simple flier, for something much larger than the people that had posted it. Signed by Gorrath himself in some red substance. Gorrath himself sat in a pub across the road from the sign. Not a big pub. It was just a bar and a couple stools. Still he sat alone, on a far stool to the left. Only speaking to order a drink. He was slumped over, and in that dimly lit side of the room you'd barely notice him if he moved at all. Which for now, he wasn't. His mind was racing. He didn't know if he'd gone crazy yet or not. But now even he reffered to himself as Gorrath. Even in his mind. Maybe to soften the blow, and blame all the horrid things he had done on this 'new personality'. His sword sat against the wall. A small nick in the floor now, where it was standing. Gorrath sat up, he looked around slightly, and motioned for another drink. <span style='color:white'> Scotch... </span> He thought. As more and more he wracked his brain. Trying to think of anyway out of this hell. His body took the scotch up, and drank it. He could still taste it, and he remembered how he loved it when he was a boy as well. Finishing the last drop, he took a piece of ice in two of his claws. Licked it clean of scotch, and let it drop back in the cup. Resting his arm on the counter he looked at his hand, how hair separated his palm from his fingers, he couldn't help but ball a fist. He turned his head.. Now realizing he had some control of his body. Not enough to do anything drastic, just enough to look around. So he did, it felt good to move again. As little as it was. </span></span>
<span style='width:100%;font-weight:bold; font-size:10px'>Out of Character</span> <table class='ooc'><tr><td>Who: Telea</td></tr></table> The thill, currently bipedal walked, no, strutted, down the alleyway. Her head held high, her fur very dark, to any who knew her, it showed she was on a hunt for blood. Her still almost translucent wings, still the same bright peacock colors, were tucked neatly against her back, she was afraid of nothing. The chains she wore on her wrists had smaller chain going up her arms to wrap around her shoulders. She was wearing a black tank top with dark blue trim. Her pants were long and gray. So dark a gray they should be called black, but everyone knew it was gray. They were torn with what looked like claw marks around the knees, blood staining the edges of these tears. She stopped. Something red caught her eyes. She turned to the flier, and studied it. She saw written on it: - Wanted - Talented young 'dragons, with a nack for the dark arts. To be recruited. Serving under, Gorrath. "<span style='color:blue'>Hmm, interesting, I wonder what's available for anyone who accepts this offer.</span>" She thought, studying the name over and over. "<span style='color:blue'>It looks as if it was written in blood, but it is too bright, and smells, not to be blood. Oh well, as if that's important.</span>" She sighed and turned slightly to go. But studied the scent of the signer, and realized, that his scent mingled around in the nearby pub. She turned toward the pub, and studied what she could in the dimness of the pub. She instinctively focused her eyes on Gorrath. She turned, and took the poster from the wall, and entered the pub. She wrinkled her nose as she entered, it smelled horrible the acrid scent of alcohol always stung her nose, but as a vampire, it was even worse. She walked carefully to the rather, how to say it, tortured looking arden sitting slumped. She paused for a moment and said, "<span style='color:blue'>Sir, are you the one who signed this flyer?</span>"
<span style='font-family:times'><span style='font-size:10pt;line-height:100%'> He looked up quite slowly, and took his time to reply. Waving his hand for one last glass of scotch, lethargically he said, <span style='color:white'> "Yes.. Yes I suppose I am the one who posted that." </span> He let out a long sigh as the bartender poured his drink. Knowing full well that she could be listening he continued, <span style='color:white'> "That wench is always looking for more guinea pigs.. Do you happen to be interested?" </span> He lifted his drink, and sipped it slowly. This glass was to be savored. Every drop to grace his buds was like heaven, for now. But the limited mobility, and the looming fact he knew he was returning to his hell gave off mixed feelings. But this had been the only thing he had done in such a long time, he was enjoying every second of it. He looked up again, and wondered if this arden knew what she was getting herself into. But he couldn't help her at all, one syllable of a warning and his 'freedom' would be stripped and a lie would grace his lips very strictly. So he sat, and sighed. Enjoyed his drink while he could, and hoped this one knew what she was doing. </span></span>
She tilted her head in mild confusement, he suposed? How could he know or not?She shrugged slightly before saying, "<span style='color:blue'>I am interested, I may not have any skills in the dark arts, but vapirism seems to be one of the last few traits I can be, say, proud of?</span>" She pondered for a moment, then added, "<span style='color:blue'>And who is she?</span>" She then, decided to wait for an answer.
<span style='font-family:times'><span style='font-size:10pt;line-height:100%'>Gorrath stood. He put his finger under her chin, and lifted her head a bit. He looked at her, into her eyes. He took a step back and looked her up and down. <span style='color:white'> "You're too young..." </span> He blurted out suddenly. A blatant lie. She was fine for what they were trying to accomplish. But she was very promising. She seemed to have a bright future, and he didn't want her to just waste it like that. He avoided the question she asked, picking up his drink and finishing it. He sat down the glass, picked up his sword and walked out of the pub abruptly. He continued down the street, realizing he was walking. Actually walking. He loved it. But still he sighed, and knew this one was bound to follow him. With even more questions now...</span></span>
She growled as he left the pub. She turned around, and followed after, just like he predicted. She had to sprint a little to catch up with him, but when Telea did, she growled, "<span style='color:blue'>Well If I'm to young, then maybe you should've printed an age limit. Mostly when I see someone recruiting they don't care about age! They care about weather they can fight or not. </span>" She had to walk quickly because the arden took larger steps than she, so of course he walked faster.
<span style='font-family:times'><span style='font-size:10pt;line-height:100%'> He looked down a little at her, <span style='color:white'> "Get out of here.." </span> He stopped, and looked straight at her now. <span style='color:white'> "Sure, I bet you can fight. But you've got too much potential to just throw it away by joining something like this. I can't let you do it.." </span> While standing there, he lit a cigarette. He took a puff, and felt the smoke rolling throughout his lungs. He started walking agian, and exhaled. It wasn't quite a habit of his, but 'Gorrath' had started. And he enjoyed it for the most part. He glanced back now, to see what she was going to say next.</span></span>
She bit her tongue to keep from leaping at him, she knew she would promptly be defeated. The taste of her own blood brought her back from thinking, she then said, "<span style='color:blue'>I've been risking this 'potential' for years, as I was a vampire hunter, until, I myself was caught, and tortured with a new fate of hunting my new kin.</span>" She shook her head, "<span style='color:blue'>I will risk it, even if I have to make you accept it. And that, it appears, is a risk in itself.</span>" She wrinkled her nose in disgust as he lit a cigarette, the smell of the stuff was rancid to her poor nose.
<span style='font-family:times'><span style='font-size:10pt;line-height:100%'> <span style='color:white'> "It's a lot more than just the pyre. I'm talking about having your soul chained, linked to another's soul. Eternal pain, with millions of others. That pain feeding her power. That is, if you die in battle. If you could manage to survive, you'd be an asset that way either. This isn't something you join, and just leave. This, 'recruitment' encompasses your life.. and so much more.." </span> <span style='color:white'> "If you still want to join. I suppose I can't stop you."</span> He walked back in an alleyway now. He turned, and waited for her to join him in the shadow between the two buildings. He blew another puff of smoke out into the beam of the streetlight. It wisped out of sight. <span style='color:white'> "Give me your hand, If you've got no hesitation."</span> He said with a sigh, as he shifted his weight and layed his sword now against a wall. </span></span>
