Two ladies of death out for some midnight fun.

A slender woman with a milky skin and silver hairs, that came near to her waste, strode with dignified steps through one of the stony halls of the fortress inhabited by the guild of Errings rising. She wore a tight-fitting dress that was sanguine of colour near the base and became gradually darker to black towards the top. Around her throat and shoulders was an elegant gilded gorget. She wore twisting golden snakes as bracelets around her pale arms, her nails were long and painted in a colour like blood. Her lips were of the same colour; her eyes shone like icy stars upon her smooth diamond-shaped face. Behind her seductive lips were sharp canines; The woman was an Estrie, a kind of vampire. The vampire’s name was Atarah, or rather; the name by which the vampire was known was Atarah. She had joined the guild of Erring Rising not too long ago, after she managed to escape her entombment.

Atarah had been born centuries ago as a princess of a kingdom, which was now known as a province of Pergrande. Her brother had been the crown prince of the kingdom and Atarah had been jealous of his right. She craved for the crown and loathed her brother for his position of power. The gods had not been kind upon her and did not deserve her worship, she prayed to demons instead, but they too didn’t seem to listen to her. Until that one night; she had been promised to a nobleman of her father and she was disgusted by that thought. It was when he a dream guided her how to kill his fiancé, after that she knew to whom to pray. To Fallen Angel, Lucifer, himself. The devil showed her dreams every night, slowly corrupting her to the core with sinful thoughts and hate. Her dreams guided her to a powerful artefact of evil origin, Caudex ex Morten or the Ledger of the Dead in the common tongue. It thought her magic rites and magic itself, she used it to commit murders. Some had been necessary to improve her own positions or because her victim had offended her, but most had been for no other reason than to see the lifeforce faded from her victims. She took the last step to leave her, already depraved, humanity behind and performed a rite to turn into an Estrie. She murdered all within the castle and bathed in their blood and sit upon her father’s throne. Her victory was not long lived, a coalition swiftly sought opportunity to divide the kingdom among them and banish her. She fled south and it was there that she was entombed in a grave, sealed with stone and hexes. She slept for centuries within her trough of granite. The strength of the hexes that kept her entombed faded as time passed by and at one night she busted out of her prison.

The first creature she slew to quench her thirst had been an unfortunate doe, she had forgotten what the taste of blood after all those years. She joined Errings Rising a couple weeks or months later, she had not given time much heed; only her thirst for blood had been on her mind. At that time, she had regained but a small portion of her strength and her primal instinct for survival started to make way for her secondary needs for roof and luxury. She despised herself for living like an animal and made her way to civilised life. Much had changed and was difficult to adjust, and she left when she heard about the rumours of Errings Rising. She hoped to find sanctuary there, the time and resources to gain all of her power and to adjust to the modern era that she now lived in. The guild however did not have her preferred livestock available to feed her. She craved for the sweet metallic taste of human blood but there were none her that would be willing or could be forced to donate theirs. She could not touch the guildmembers or risk to be thrown out. She had to make do with butcher waste, the blood of chickens or pigs. The blood of animals was fine when she still had her unsatisfiable thirst and was weak, but now it did not do for her. The blood of every animal was different and those of humans was exquisite.

Atarah was no done with ignoring her craving for human blood, she would taste it soon, she would get it this very night. She would acquire some ‘cattle’ and bring them back to the castle of Errings Rising. She ran her tongue around her fangs, and around her bloodred lips. She could almost taste the delight of what was inevitable to come. She knew that there was a village rather close by, she had passed it on the day she joined the guild. Since she was going there to get food, then she might as well unleash her hate upon them and burn down the town for her own pleasure. The silver-haired vampire took a turn around the corner, into a hall that went towards the gatehouse. It was light by candle-and torchlight, the arrow slits and windows were covered with shutters to keep the wind and snow outside. The cold would not bother her as she couldn’t feel the sensation of cold, or heat for that matter, but the humans that inhabited the castle did. For the same reason she did not wore anything warmer and neither would she when she would enter the frozen would that was the Hokabe mountains. She entered the room above the gatehouse that contained the mechanism to pull the portcullis up or lower it in case of danger. The guards looked up and admired what they saw, Atarah wasn’t interested in those lowly grunts and ignored them. She walked down the stairs to the main level, a room warmed by two large iron braziers. Here stood the large heavy wooden door that kept out the snow and the icy winds, a smaller door within one of side gave access to the outside for individuals or small groups of people. She had just taken one step upon the cobbled floor when another door opened.

Atarah twisted her head and looked at who or what appeared from the other door. The who that appeared was much more interesting than the lowly grunts whom she had paid no heed. The who was a woman with greyish skin and hair as red as blood. The eyes in her pretty face where bright yellow green, unlike any she had seen. She wore simple brown robes, opposite of the extravagantly attire of her own. The modestly in clothing adorned her, it had its own elegance; Atarah was captivated by her in instant and did not even noticed the person that followed the redhaired beauty. She watched as she passed by towards the gates, her fragrance was familiar to her, but she could not say what it was. The robed woman turned the snow to ash, the familiar scent was driven out by the smell of smoke and fire.

Atarah followed the woman, she was allured by her appeal and wondered where she was heading too. After a while, it became rather clear that they were heading towards the same place. The silvered haired vampire lifted the spell off her, that was enough eying for the night. ”By any chance, are you on your way towards one of the Hakobe settlements?” her voice sounded sweet; she moved quick and gracefully next to the redhaired guildmember as she spoke. Once more her nostrils tingled with the scent that smelled familiar yet still, she had no clue what was so familiar about it. ”I am Atarah, and with whom have I the pleasure to be in company with?” She said playfully as she dropped her head slightly, side eying her for her reply.

Atarah looked annoyed over her shoulder at the laughing follower of the redhaired woman. She turned back to the familiar scented woman as she started to speak, curious for the name of the mysterious woman. The silvered-haired Estrie frowned, souls to be reaped? How peculiar. That was quite an interesting matter. This Grim Reaper had the same situation with her name as she was in herself, hers too have been forgotten in time thought perhaps it might still linger in some chronicle that is hidden away if it had survived for that long. The redhaired mage conjured fourth a dark scythe of bone and flesh. Atarah studied it for a moment”That sounds like a lovely affair.” The Vampire smiled sly and licked her lips, were death lingers is food and pleasure to be had, ”A very suitable name for a bringer of death.” Atarah gniffled at the interaction between the master and the follower, it amused her.

”You are not the only one with a scythe my dear,” she pinched her nails of her right hand in her palm till blood dripped upon the blackened path they walked on. The blood formed a scythe, with the same colour as the blood. The scythe seemed to perspire blood, bloody drops slowly dripped down the staff and blade of the weapon. Atarah could not contain herself and brought the scythe closer to her to give it a lick for its sweet secretion. She let her scythe go and it splashed upon the ground as a liquid. Blood spattered her dress and the unstained white snow. She did not care for the blood in her clothing, they would get saturated in blood soon enough. ”I too have undertaken in the area.” She looked ahead, she could almost smell the worthless mortals. Her delicious cattle.

”Me? Standing in your way? I would never do that.” She said playfully as her pupils turned blood red and her eye white black. Veins of sanguine appeared over her body and face. She would not be walked over, even to someone who was more powerful as herself; she had seen and felt her magic strength. ”I would not dare,” her playful tone turned stark, [/b]”I am just here for sustenance. I require something more exquisite for my food than the blood of beasts, I crave for human blood.”[/b] Her eyes glow and then faded, till her icy-blue eyes reappeared. ”I will just drive some cattle from their sheds to the castle, for me to milk. The other shall perish gruesome deaths and their homes shall burn.” She conjured a flame in her hand and played with it, her eyes flashed with joy of the prospect of using her powers. ”I will give them fire and blood, darkness will follow.” Those were her elements, the elements she could morph and command. Once she unravelled the secrets of her tome, she would also be able to command the dead and demons of Hell.

Atarah looked curiously at play of wind and smoke around the Grim Reaper, ”Don’t tell me you are afraid for some drops of blood?” She conjured a wicked smile upon her face and chuckled. She frowned as the smoke followed to gesture of the scythe and turned into a giant shape up in the sky. It towered above them and took the shape of a grim figure. ”How comforting to know…” she suddenly invoked a shocked expression, ”have you come for me as well?” Her shocked expression faded and  turned back to a curious gaze as the beautiful woman that had stood next to her turned to bone.

The silver haired vampire marvelled at what the Grim Reaper did next, she seemed to use her scythe as a wedge rod. The scythe pointed towards a house and then it disappeared in a grey circle. Her expression of marvel faded. She looked at the Grim Reaper, ”That was it?” Her voice was filled with disappointment. ”I imagined something much more exciting.” The Estrie sighed, ”Well, then I’ll bring about excitement myself.”

Her eyes changed, the white of her eyes turned black and her iris became disks of sapphire. Veins in her pale body coloured sanguine. She pointed her right arm at a nearby house, her fingers pointed up towards the sky as her hand palm faced the building. Energy around was drawn to a small orb that formed in front of her hand. Swirls of fire, blood and shadow formed in and around the orb and it expanded in size. It reached up to diameter of 1 and a half foot and then it shrunk to the size of a marble, while the elements stirred more energetic. It all happened rather quickly. It then propelled itself at a high speed towards the house, on which wall it exploded in a destructive furry of fire, shadow and spatter of bloody needles. Only the foundation and some of the thick beams of the building remained, scarred and cracked. ”See this is more fun.” Atarah’s eyes turned to their icy-blue state and her skin turned perfectly pale once more. She strolled towards the village.

A man that carried an axe and a round shield ran towards here, his helmet had not been strapped on properly and fell from his head as he nearly tripped over a coble. Someone of the village watch no doubt. Atarah’s eyes turned back to black and red, her veins turned crimson once again. Her hand turned dark crimson as well as the skin seemed to be pure blood, her nails grew a foot in length into sharp claws of blood. She burst forwards at an amazing speed, avoiding his shield and slashed through his mail shirt. The man had no chance to react with his shield or sword. His eyes turned wide as he felt a warm feeling upon his chest; his mouth was open of surprise, but no sound came from it. He dropped his weapon and shield upon the snowy ground. Atarah moved her clawed left hand around his head, her right over his waist and pulled him close to her. The man stank of sweat but she did not care, she was after the sweet liquid that flown in his veins. She dug her fangs within his flesh and ripped a chunk of meat from his neck; blood poured out and she began to drink from the sweet red fluid. This was much better than the stuff she drank in Errings rising, she did not notice when he died within her arms. She let go of him and he slides to the ground. Her mouth and much her chest were covered in blood, but she did not care.