Thread: Vampire Conspiracy RPG

Diram Ghazi stood for a long while by the high window, staring out at the horizon. Sixty-five stories below lay a sprawl of towering skyscrapers and endless humanity. Sixty-five stories below lay the world that Diram Ghazi had left behind, willingly, for the promise of eternity.

Every morning, or shall we say evening? Every morning Diram awoke as the sun began to recede beneath the curve of the earth, and, bathed and dressed, contemplated the darkening horizon. The Elders, he knew, could stand the light of the sun. Victor particularly enjoyed boasting of his sojurns in the daylight. Diram, however, a scant hundred years old, knew that it would be many centuries before he again felt the warmth of the day. Though now that warmth was deadly, every morning Diram felt a sting as the last light singed the surface of his eyes.

For a moment he contemplated the sunset, and, his morning ritual complete, he turned to his work. The various responsibilities of the daylight Diram had long since turned over to subordinates, but at the beginning of each night he meticulously sifted through the day's reports, noting even the slightest shifts in the empire that he watched over, no, virtually controlled.

Several hours and a dozen memos later, satisfied that the world of men could continue along with his careful guidance, Diram left to grab a bite to eat. He took his breakfast in the fashion he had become accustomed to: a single child, drained to the point of death, a child that could be forgotten if ever he grew too anxious for the taste of blood. After taking his meal he thrust the limp, white body into the arms of a servant. The child would be returned to one of the innumerable orphanges or foster homes under the control of the corporation, one day, perhaps, to feed Diram again.

Stretching his supernatural limbs with the bliss of satisfied hunger, Diram decided it was time to move to the major business of the night. Gliding silently over to a small table, he put the tiny headset into his ear.

"Khang," he intoned simply, idly flipping through the pages of a novel.

After several rings a masculine voice answered, gruffly, "This is Khang." Khang thought he understood a great many things, but he never quite grasped how clearly Diram knew his mind. The young, Armenian vampire knew that an Elder of nearly five milennia chafed at taking orders from a rank child.

"My friend," Diram replied at least, a voice made of silk. "Make ready. Tonight is your night."

"Indeed, my friend. I shall inform my men."

"At your discretion, Mr. Khang."

A second passed, and Diram found himself examining the dark places on the moon. When he was a child, his father would take him away from the village to a hill to gaze at the stars.

Yes, tonight was a rare night indeed. Tonight was the beginning of the end of Ardance Industries.

"Dominic," he said simply, and the phone rang once.

The voice than answered the other end put a chill through Diram's immortal bones. "Yes?"

"The game is on, Dominic."

A pause and a short exhale like a lover.

"Excellent."

Faith breathed out, the night air was sending shivers up her spin, Fathers on the move. She looked down at her weaponry, her sword, her most faithfull companion was getting old and was in desperate need of repair...and of course, the vampires these days wouldn't fall as easily as those back when she was young. Standing up she walked briskly towards the most well known supplier among her kind...the hunters...

Walking in she looked around there where a couple of others standing around waiting, she took to a dark corner and waited, for whoever it was that would sell her what she needed.


__________________________________________________ ______________________

Dominics voice was no more than a growl as he answered the phone, his henchmen letting his no good daughter slip through there fingers once again, the answer he gave was a simple one... "Yes?"

"The game is on, Dominic."

He paused, good news at last, and then exhaled like a lover.

"Excellent."

He hung up and looked around at his group of henchmen, "Well, hurry up and get organised, we're going hunter hunting"

Wiping his coat sleeve across his cheek Nikolai removed all evidence of the tear that had just streaked down his cheek. Nikolai hadn't cried in years, not since the first vampyre inflicted massacre he had witnessed. However, his eyes always ran when he smelt that all too familiar smell of burning flesh. This was one flaming trashcan the cities homeless would not use to warm their hands at he mused.

Nikolai smacked the bottom of a cigarette pack, he took out a smoke and then returned the pack to his jeans pocket. Using the same lighter that had just began the process of destroying all evidence of another vampyre's existence, he lit the smoke. Content that the vampyre was engulfed in enough flame to burn all remains Nikolai wiped his cheek again and left the alley.

Avoiding the puddles of street light Nikolai checked how many rounds he had been forced to use in his latest kill. Two full clips on his prey, two clips well spent. Knowing his stockpile of silver ammo was wearing thin he decided he needed to return to Ardance Industries for more.

Nikolai was not a fan of Ardance or many of its patrons, but in the business of Vampyre hunting the association was a necessity. With a sigh he promised himself he'd make it quick, and walked down the dark drive towards the entrance.

Arthlis Ardance sat at his computer, like any other day, assigning "work" to his "employees." He had to keep up the image of a ligitimate business, and after so many years it was beginning to get old, but it was unavoidable if he wanted to keep the vampires in check.

It was at night when he did his real work. Those who knew him best knew he wouldn't rest until he'd killed or seriously ruined a vampire's plans. This particular night he hoped some of his customer's might join him for a quick raid.

With the recruitment of more hunters, the vampires had been having an increasingly difficult time finding blood. While some of them still insisted on killing for their fix, many of the younger vampires simply moved with the times and started advertising blood donation banks and the like, effectively getting their blood from victims who thought they were helping a good cause.

Tonight's raid would be a blood-bank. If there were vampires there, so much the better.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Daniel smashed the rest of the way through the door and strode into the room. His long coat swept around his legs as he came to a halt less than two feet from the well-dressed businessman.

"I mean it, Helbrandt, stop right there!"

Daniel gave a vicious smile, and drew one of his knives. He idly twirled it between his fingers, watching as the businessman's eyes locked to the sliver-laced blade.

"What's that? Tell me, Helbrandt, now! Is that silver?"

Daniel leaned in close to the businessman. "You," he spat, "are a vampire. There's only one thing I do with vampires."

The businessman stepped back. Or rather, he tried to step back, but he froze when Daniel's knife whipped up to press against his throat. He swallowed. "Now, Helbrandt, I'm sure we can come to some arrangement. Money? Power? I can give you anything you want!"

Daniel spat in his face. He drew his knife back, ready for a stab, andf the vampire made a break for it. He moved as fast as his kind was capable of, almost blurring as he darted for the door.

Cursing, Daniel span around, his arm flying out. The knife left his hand and lanced into the vampire's shoulder with a thud, spinning the creature around. It fell into the doorframe, agony burning in its eyes.

Daniel stepped over to the vampire, glaring down at it. Slowly, he drew his shotgun from its scabbard on his back. "You shouldn't have tried that," he said, and fired.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Twenty minutes later, Daniel walked out of the room. His coat was spattered with gore, and warm blood dripped from the knives he now held in his hands. The vampire had held out for longer than he had expected, but it had still known nothing. The same as the last one. And the one before that.

He sheathed his knives. He would have to leave. The police would be here soon.

Alarc Haemos stood in the shadows behind Arthlis. He had little choice but to spend his days indoors, and the boss' office was inevitably the most interesting place in the company when R&D was quiet.

"So, we're after that blood bank tonight. Have we actually got any evidence that the Brethren have set up camp there? I've got no problem with just grabbing the blood, but it irks me that we might be chasing a red herring."
__________________________________________________ _____________

In the pale light of the setting sun, Rose moved timidly towards her new master. The Brethren had sent her here, and she had gone willingly.
"Master Ghazi, what do services do you require of me?"

"I seriously doubt they've set up any sort of permanent base there, but I know they won't leave all that blood unguarded. If our information is accurate, that bank has about 60% of this state's blood supply."

"Master Ghazi, what services do you require of me?"

Diram stared intently at the beautiful woman who sat across from him. He offered her a drink that she declined with shaking hands.

"I have a special assignment for you, Miss Purity. I know of your work with the Bretheren. I have been monitoring your progress for some time, and tonight I believe that you can accomplish something that has thus far eluded us."

"Ardance Industries. You understand, of course, my meaning?"

She nodded.

"For hundreds of years our kind has been hunted by a certain element of mankind. Yet, it has only been in the last century, during my lifetime, that the battle has become more pitched. Ever more we see our street enforcers set to die in the sunlight. Ever more we see vagabonds, independents, and smaller covens slain. Over ten thousand vampires have perished in the last hundred years. We are, as you say, an 'endangered species.' "

"As the decades passed my masters could not plumb the source of this betrayal. After thousands of years controlling the progress of humanity, they were dying in ever-greater numbers. I alone was able to see the pattern within the seemingly random, the design within the complexity, the purpose within the shapeless form. Ardance Industries. A whole company dedicated to the manufacture of arms to kill vampires, and the recruitment of hunters to eradicate my kind. For a century they have chipped away at the edifice of our power. But now we know our quarry. Tonight is our night."

Diram sighed for a moment, setting down his glass. He stood up slowly from the chair, running his pale fingers along the back of Rose's seat. He looked at her for a moment, greedily, and then turned his eyes away.

"Two of our oldest and most powerful vampires are fighting Ardance tonight. Dominic, whom you may know by reputation, and Khang, who you should be glad not to know. I have a plan, you see. One of our two groups will be awaiting the hunters tonight, to slaughter them to a man. Another of our groups is woefully outmanned and outgunned, and will themselves fall prey to Ardance's minions. Tonight at the house where our vampires go to die to hunters, you will be waiting, to be discovered by Ardance's men. You will infiltrate them, and do unto to them as you have done to the other hunters you have so neatly delivered to us."

"This is the game we play, you see? One must go to death, so that Ardance sees the night to be a victory. The other will succeed, so that our true goals may be protected."

Diram slipped a piece of paper into her hand.

"Go to this place. Memorize what I have written, and then burn it. Do exactly as I have commanded, and you will live. Betray yourself, and the hunters may be as merciless as I am."

-Flint Gates-

It was a busy night at the bar that cold, rainy Wednesday, raucous laughter and brazen boasts rang true through the congested air; the Hunters, no doubt pleased about some raid or another, were downing the booze faster than it could be poured and their high, drunken spirits gradually infected their fellow patrons. Only a few remained seated and still fewer were having nothing to do with the wild celebrations.

Two of these more reserved patrons sat inconspicuously in a poorly lit corner of the bar. Both wore thick coats to combat the torrential rains outside, one of them having numerous suspicious looking bulges under his. Bulgy was leaning slightly on the table, hands wrapped around a stained glass of something that looked less than pleasant. The man he was with sat in a relaxed slouch against the worn padded seats of the bar, occasionally drawing puffs on a cigarette. After every puff the smoke from the toxic stick would curl upwards, catch for a second or two under the brim of the man’s black cap, before pushing itself out to the sides of the brim and joining the ever increasing mass of cancerous toxins wafting about in the air above.

Bulgy glanced about the bar every now and then, more often than not having his gaze linger on some of the shadowy feminine forms that appeared through the haze of smoke. “Busy night eh Gates?” His companion dipped his head in silent acknowledgement. “Makes you wonder how many are packin’.” Bulgy continued. Gates leaned forward and crushed the butt of his cigarette in the steadily filling ashtray. “Or better yet, how many need an ammo top-up.” He finished for his friend. Bulgy nodded eagerly, greed evident in his wide eyes. Gates exhaled with something that almost, but not quite, sounded like a snort of disdain. Bulgy didn’t appear to hear, his head following the supple movements of a club dancer. As she moved to the other side of the bar and became lost in the throng of Hunters, Bulgy appeared to have a recollection and turned back to Gates.

“I’ve got that order of yours by the way.”
“Of course you have, we wouldn’t be talking otherwise.”
Bulgy nodded briefly, unfazed, and proceeded to slip a grubby hand into one of his many pockets. “Absolute top-o’-the-range this baby.”
“It’d best be, with what I’m payin’.”
“Relax Gates, you should know by now that I deliver.”
Gates nodded, somewhat begrudgingly. “Let’s see it already, I don’t need your salesman’s pitch.”
Bulgy feigned a hurt expression, but withdrew and unwrapped the item without further complaint.

The first thing that they both saw was the blade. Polished to a high sheen and razor sharp, even to the eye, the opposing serrated and plain edges immediately drew the focus of the attention. There was a soft glimmer as light hit the polished sheen of the blade, which Bulgy was swift to cover from prying eyes with his large sleeve. Confident that their little dealing was going as unnoticed as possible, Bulgy unwrapped the rest of it. The brown handle was simple, in keeping with the rest of the knife, a mere four or five inches long and unadorned. The blade made up a further 7 inches, totalling at least 11 inches of deadly weaponry.

“You see that?” he asked Gates, who examined where Bulgy was indicating. “That whole handle there, made outta G-10 that is.”
Gates raised a questioning eyebrow.
“G-10, y’know, Micarta. It’s the best material for this stuff, durable, stable, tough, grippy, you name it. Water doesn’t affect this stuff, not even over huge lengths of time.”
Gates said nothing, just examined the device without touching it. “What’s the tang like?” He asked finally.
“Full.” Came the instantaneous response.
“The blade?”
“I’m not even going to try and explain that to ya. Normally it’d be made outta 1095 carbon steel, but you and I both know that wouldn’t so much as scratch those freaks out there. Ardance did something with it, replaced the blade with hardened silver or somesuch. And you know what Ardance is like for blade quality, hell, you carry two of ‘em on those monstrosities of yours.”

Gates nodded knowingly and gently picked the weapon from the grimy table. He tossed it in his hand experimentally, flipped it a few times, then brought the blade down on the wooden table in perfect timing with a heavy drumbeat from the pounding club music being played over poor quality speakers. Bulgy winced at the noise and glanced around. The drumbeats had covered the sound, and still the transaction went unnoticed. Gates was busily examining the newly made notch in the table and the condition of the blade afterwards. Seemingly pleased, he handed the weapon back. Two seconds later it was once more hidden away on Bulgy’s person.

“So, how much is this going to set me back?”
Bulgy took a swing of his as-yet-untouched drink. “I can let you have it for seven hundred.”
Gates leaned back in his seat, took out his pack of cigs, then thought better of it and shoved them back into his coat. “Too pricey Mick.”
Mick sighed. “This stuff ain’t cheap Flint, I can’t let it go for much less than that.”
“Not even for a regular?”
“Nope.”
“C’mon man, you don’t keep the regulars happy and pretty soon they go elsewhere for business.”
Mick said nothing, but Gates spotted the uneasy glance at the scarred tabletop. “500, that’s all I’m asking.”
Mick almost choked on his next swig. “500?! Are you mad Gates? I barely pick ’em up for that price!”
Now it was Gate’s turn to say nothing.
“Look, I can do you it for 600, no less.” Mick continued in a calmer tone.

Gates appeared to consider the offer for a few moments, before finally giving a firm nod. “I can accept that.” He reached into his black leather jacket and slowly withdrew a thick, brown envelope. He slid it across the table to Mick, who snatched it up and pocketed it without comment. He, in turn, reached into his pocket and withdrew the knife once more. It rattled slightly as it was sent across the rough wood of the table, before Flint’s hand arrested its movement. The knife disappeared into the black jacket and with business concluded, Gates stood to leave. “So, when will I be seeing you next Gates?” The lithe man shrugged as he tugged his cap more firmly into place. “Next time I need some ammo, see ya around pal.” Mick nodded absently, his eyes already running over the shapely form of another dancer as she passed by. Then he snapped his head back around to Gates.

“Hey Flint.” The shorter man stopped, turned and moved swiftly back to the table.
“What?”
“Just thought you might like to know somethin’.”
“How much is it gonna cost me?”
“Not a dime, just a friendly favour.”
Gates raised an eyebrow dubiously.
“Like you said, gotta keep the regulars happy.” Mick replied with a grin. “Look, the head honcho at Ardance is planning a big raid tonight, hitting a blood bank or somesuch.”
“What’s the pay like?”
“I dunno, you’d have to find out for yourself. It’s being kept pretty hush-hush though, you might have some trouble getting in on the action.”
Gates nodded, his brow creased in thought as he digested this new information for a few moments. Finally, he turned to leave. “Thanks for the heads up Mick.”

Gates stalked through the crowd in moody silence, beginning to play Mick’s last words in his head again and again, like a stuck record. “It’s being kept pretty hush-hush…” So if it gets botched, no one’s the wiser and Ardance continue, happy as you please. It is Ardance though, so the pay should be decent.
Gates nodded to the bouncer as he strode through the thick wooden doors and back outside, eyes swiftly becoming locked on the torrential downpour that plastered the streets. He stepped under the nearby overhang provided by a towering stone building and popped his stained pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. Extracting and lighting another of the thin white sticks, Flint gazed into the night. It was gonna be a long walk to Ardance alright...

Scarlett stared down the deserted wharf. The man should have been here already. She stared at her watch. It read 1 am sharp. She hated it when ever anyone was late, even if she was working on a case.
Suddenly with her enhanced senses she noticed a dark truck driving towards her; a truck with no lights.
"Good evening, William," she smiled to the vampire stepping out of the truck.
"Hello, Miss Woods. It's grand to see you again."
Scarlett laughed to herself at her brilliance. He was already lured by her and her fake name. He didn't even know that she was a hunter in desiguse. That ignorant fool.
"Did you bring the stuff?"
"Oh yes, I have some fresh pickings for a sweat lady like you," said William as he opened the back of the truck. Inside were 3 crates.
"This one is young and fresh. The young ones are supposed to make you stronger," he indicated to the first crate. It held a young sleeping child.
"Go on."
"Uh.... This one was a toughie to catch. He is at lest worth 200."
"Mmhum," Scarlett stated with false appraise. Slowly and silently she pulled out a sliver revolver.
"This one my sweat, is just a piece of garbage. He's way to old. I wouldn't want to sell it to someone of your class... but if your interested it will cost 75." He said turning around. "So what will it be?"
"You." There was a loud bang and William was on the ground reviving in agony. To make him shut up she slammed her heal right against his head; shattering the entire skull. Brain matter splatter her boots. She grabbed up his hair and lifted his head to her face.
To make a long gory story short, William's head was found days latter by his boss all the way in Cuba.
Scarlett drove the truck to the closest ally and undid the crates. The only person that was up was the man.
"You will take the old man and the child to the nearest police station in this truck. From there you will stay with them until their chaperons arrive. Got all that?" her voice became soft and convincing, one of her hated powers.
The man's eyes looked blank when he nodded. That was just perfect for Scarlett. She turned disappeared in the swish of her trench coat.

Ardance Industries
Scarlett was sitting in her usual corner. She had that dark brooding look that she always had on her face when she was hungry, as she was now. She could hear their fresh blood pumping through their veins. Oh how nice would it--
She shook her head to clear these thoughts. She was much stronger than that. To forget her hunger, she turned to conversing.
"Hey, boss. What do you want me to do during the bust?"

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"Hunter hunting, hum?" Victor said passionately when he heard the news. "That sounds delicious. I do love killing them. I do hope dear little Isabell Scarlett will be there. She is so fun to torment, wouldn't you say, Ghaz?"
Victor played with his stereo in his mercedes. "Yuck. Do you hear this disgusting music now days? I really prefer Mozart."
"So about the hunting, what shall I do? You are in charge," he smiled in to his Black Berry.

Arthlis turned his head slightly to answer Scarlett, "Our main goal is to steal or destroy their blood supply, and kill them if they're there. I'd like to get one of them for interrogation, if possible, though."

Claw growled, he was under the influence of vampire blood. He had no need for weopons, nor did he want any, he had his hands. He could smell his prey. He was sure that his pray new he was there too but they wouldn't quite know what he was. He could use this to his advantage, they'd probably just chart him down to being your average human with BO problems. Then they'd wait for him so they could suck his blood. As if!

Even though it was the darkest time of night he could clearly see his nemesis, who was wreathed in shadow. CRUNCH! Quicker than your average human he glanced to the source of the magnified noise. A fox. Idiot! Althought that did give him an idea...

Quickly he climbed the brick wall, using his finger nails to dig in to the brick, like knives in butter. Like an ugly gargoyle he was perched on the edge of the builiding, looking down at the evil wraith.

RAGH! The fox now rabid attacked the vampire with surprising ferocity. Almost as if it was being guided by other sentinence... As the vampire killed it in a single blow, Claw jumped and plunged his claws through it's neck. SNAP! You don't want me to describe what happened. He flung the body over his shoulder, so that he could take it home for draining.

he felt his phone vibrating in his pocket. He answered with his blood stained hands. Gore was spread all over the phone.

"WHAT!"

"Ardance industries? I'm on my way"

I'd like to get one of them for interrogation, if possible, though.
"Sounds great. With my abilities I could get one down long enough to capture. I will have to eat before going, just in case," she smiled; her pointed teeth gleaming. "Precaution is always the best when it comes to situations like this."
Slowly she pulled out the packet of blood she had received from her friend Willy, the mortician. She shuddered as she drank it. It tasted like crap and it didn't pacify her hunger well. Those were the quirks of drinking blood of the dead. It was always bitter and it usually had a musty aftertaste. Maybe after the mission she would hunt a deer or something. Animals were always more satisfying.
She noticed Faith standing in the corner and then she noticed her weapon. "You're not going to kill any vamps by using that thing unless you use it right. Need a new weapon? I think I have some extra stuff I could part with."

"Goddamned rain", Nikolai swore under his breathe pulling up the collar of his jacket. It's ok he thought, he had arrived at Ardance. Looking around he didn't see any movements in the shadows so he keyed the password into the electronic pad on the wall. The metal door slid open to reveal a small dark room, which he entered. Once the door had banged shut behind him a blinding light flicked on from all around him and he smelled the faint odor of garlic. Once the UV shower had finished the door in front of him automatically slid open.

Looking around he noticed two figures standing in the corner, he tried not to make eye contact. Quickly turning towards the munitions counter he placed an order for more silver rounds. "Sir, you already have an outstanding debt of $10,000," the clerk said crossly. Without uttering a word Nikolai pulled a small canvas bag from his jacket pocket and slid it towards the husky clerk. She reached forward and opened the bag spilling its contents on the counter, he eyes flashed with greed as she saw the glittering of gold, jewels and other precious things. As Nikolai received his order he scoffed thinking how lucky he was that vampires like expensive toys, Nikolai had never been much for the 9-5 grind.

Faith grinned at the new guy flashing her fangs, one of the perks of being a half cast i guess she thought waving cutly, i think i'll wait a bit, hunters are always fun to watch.