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BLANCH LOBO, the Lone star bar. (1 Viewer)


Senior Member
The Lone star was nowhere, just a old and run down shack that people would pass only giving a moments glance as they passed. It had the only public light pole for ten miles, a dirt parking lot that would turn into a mud hole when ever it rained. Few people every came in except for a hand full of ranch hands and the occasional biker or two who took the scenic route. That runs between O.K.C. and Chickasha Oklahoma on U. S. Highway eighty one.

Two lanes and few houses the closest being two miles away.
The bar had been build in the late thirties and was quite the sight back then with hard woods through out. As time passed and the bar became less popular, the old man and wife that ran it could not afford to keep it up.

It was about closing time at the Lone star, the bartender was trying to convince the two ranch hands and the lone biker that they need to settle up and get ready to leave. The ranch hands were playing pool and the biker was setting toward the back. Wishing now he had just kept going and got to Chickasha he was tired and feeling a little drunk. A soft bed and a sound sleep sounded good, but now he was not sure if he wanted to finish the ride.

Like a lot of these rural bars, part of the interior decorations was a string of old large bulb Christmas lights that ran the length of one side of the room. Half of them no longer shining, once they had been put up at Christmas and left up to give some atmosphere.

The door swung open and the four strangers came in, moving with a uncommon grace but looking shabby. Two men and two women, then stood looking hungrily about the small bar and suddenly caused an uneasy feeling to the occupants.

The bartender almost without a conscious thought reached down to the forty five caliber pistol that was holstered just under the bar. He was not grabbing it just feeling for reassurance, something was causing him to need to have the reassurance.

One of the women parted from the other three and walked up to the closest ranch hands.
She slipped her arms around his neck and cooed “Hey sugar I am hungry and you look good enough to eat!”.

He nervously replied, “well thank ya mama.” but the reply was some what weak and unsure.

She took and gave his head a sharp twist and ripped his throat open then drew her face back covered in his blood.

The other occupants moved back slowly in shock not knowing what to do?
Then the other three strangers came in closer and smiling, before them were the hunted and they were the predators of these souls.

The bartender drew the forty five and warned them to stay back but one of the men was on top of the bar with a leap from half way across the floor! The forty five sounded three times, each round striking the figure in the chest.

It seemed to have little effect other then to cause the figure to swing one way or another.
Then the figure smiled and lifted with one hand the alarmed bartender up on to the bar.
The bartender seem like a rag doll in the man’s hand swaying back and forth.
His eyes wide and seeming to be bulging out a bit from the pressure around his neck

The smile on the man revealed a set of almost spike teeth, “The rest of ya’ll will not be as lucky as your friend!”. The Vampire said through his smile and suddenly the bartender was swung up onto a rafter.
He hung head down and his feet twisted till the bones broke with a snap that seem to echo through the bar. The ankles were tied around the beam all with little effort.
screaming in pain and fear the old man swung back and forth.
The Vampire let out a chuckle and told the bartender to scream louder.

The biker and the other ranch hand was backed up into a corner.
Still and quiet as if they hope to not be noticed, but the two were walking towards them as a cat approaches a cornered mouse.

There seemed no hurry this was part of the game and enjoyed as much as the taste of fresh blood.
One of the women and the lone male who had not yet fed came closer to the pair in the corner.

It would have been a simple matter for the hunters to finish off their prey.
The hunter were five times stronger then the humans and quick as light.
Most of the others of their kind do not play such games, where their victim's suffering and death is prolonged. But they were descendants of Lorain


Peter Lorain was born in 1798 Louisiana and was not well welcome. Said to be touched in the head and not having wits about him. His rebirth was said to have been an accident, a overly hungry one had fallen on Lorain and there was no intent to make him just to drain him then snap his neck. But as it happened once Lorain was drained the act was interrupted before the finally act could be done.

It seemed that the humans had finally realized they had a monster within their midst.
A group out seeking the demon that had been feeding on and killing the population of the small backwater town. Came across the monster in the act causing him to flee the angry mob.

Leaving poor Peter Lorain lying on the cold ground in the middle of a swampy area.
So was the birth of a curse upon both humans and Vampires.

Lorain was shunned by the more respectable of his kind as a half-wit and rat eater.
He fled deep into the bayou and often when he did happen to show up in civilization he would be forced back by the elite of his kind.

Living off of anything with warm blood that he would encounter from Rats to bears.
A gator now and again but their blood would be somewhat cold to him.

Lorain felt like the world was against him, not welcome by humans or other Vampires.
His simple mind struck on a plan, he would turn others of his stature, the unwanted among the humans.
The rubbish of the human race and they would be a family.

Drunks and dimwits the mentally handicapped anyone that polite society shunned as being not worthy.
They were easy to find, often pushed to the outskirts of civilization.
Some having fled being around other people and into the backwaters.

By the time the upper-crust of the Vampires realized it would be better to allow Lorain into the collective. At least then they could somewhat control him and watch him it was too late.

From the Bayou the descendants of Lorain’s mad plan had moved out to anywhere they could find a place to hide. These places proved safe from the elite as they seldom dirtied themselves by traveling to the out of the way and backwoods.

Even if they did what could they do? One of the strictest rules of the collective was a Vampire shall not kill another Vampire. Even if that victim was seen as the lowest form of Vampire, the absolute punishment would be death by sun shine for the offender.

So the less populated and the remote parts of the country bore the curse of the Lorain’s.

They had hung their victims from the rafters, in between hard swigs on Jim Beam and old Turkey.
The foursome would take a drink from one prey or another.

Each victim had a finger bitten off so as to make a nipple to be sucked on as if the hunters were infants suckling at a breast instead of monsters draining their hapless victims.
When the wound would stop or slow bleeding a simple snap a little higher up would start it again.
But soon the game became boring so the empty bottles were filled with the fresh blood for the road.

Then without much a-do the men’s throats were ripped out and in a final drowning in blood and gore.

The foursome was admiring their handiwork while finishing off the whiskey that was left in their bottles.
But it was that drinking that would lead to their downfall, it deadens their sense of smell otherwise his appearance would not have been such a surprise.

The adversary was suddenly just there at the front of the room! It was only after seeing him did they notice the scent of the Blanco Lobo. He did not look all that different then the four men they had just killed.
But they knew this man was not like the humans they had dispatched.

Shoulder length blond hair and wearing a long denim coat that reached down to his knees.
His dark blue eyes half open though he was not so relaxed, he was facing down four Vampires.
Even drunk and well fed they would still be a hand full and deadly.

The foursome tried to form up in a defensive posture and if they were sober it would have gone better.
But the whiskey had taken its effect so they more stumbled from side to side in a half circle.
Hissing and cursing the Lobo while he stood silently watching, it would not be a good tactic to rush in.

One of the male more drunk and foolish then brave and experienced rushed him.

The change occurred in barely a blink of the eye, from human in form to that of a muscular werewolf covered in white fur. The coat was peeled off and slung toward the front door.
It had covered a set of large wings neatly folder tightly against the back.

The attacker was sent rolling across the floor with a single swipe of a clawed paw.
ending up in a pile and bleeding from what was left of his head. Halved with one part still attached while the other half laying behind the bar.

The other three now aware that it would only be through swift and cunning that they would not suffer the same fate. They were now the hunted instead of the hunter for that is what stood before them.
The hunter of the Vampire, specialized and capable for the task.

Created to hunt and kill those who hunted and killed the humans.
All oddities of creation but it is the Blanco Lobos who have the special task of hunting and killing the other two oddities.

The three might stand a chance if they could all attack at the same time.
He sense that they were thinking and from the past experiences what they were thinking.
Three on one the odds were still in their favor and the price to be paid would be his death.

The female on the right was slowly moving toward the side while the female on the left was crouching.
It appeared she was preparing to leap, perhaps hoping he would either paying attention to the other female. Or that his attention would be on her and the one on the right could strike.
Though it could be that the two females were playing decoy so the male could strike?


He preferred hunting Lorains among the differing kinds of Vampires of which there are two classification and about three sub classifications. The two classification of Vampires are “Born” and “Made”.
“Made” is more the movie concept bitten and bled then reborn into a Vampire.
“Born” is as the name implied, they were born with the curse the result of two Vampires having mated.

Most of the Lorains were made and cursed with their prior life affections along with the curse of being a blood drinker. Some times the result is worse since they are close nit and there is often inbreeding with results being a born.

Vampires had several things in common with human, one being that too much inbreeding ends up with a
malformed and handicapped offspring.

Already somewhat the less qualified as it was their born were a new definition of “Monsters”.
Normally he had moral issues with hunting a born, they were often just children not unlike human children.
Except for the need for blood.

Most born are children of one of the sub classification “the civilized” which have strived to fit in with the humans. Surviving off the sub market of cow and pig blood from slaughter houses.
Their only drawback is that cow and pig blood does not have a needed enzyme that can only be gotten from human blood.

Therefore they do back slide when needed, this is what causes the moral question in hunting them.
They are not monsters by choice but by necessity, otherwise trying to be good and harmless citizens.
He finds it hard to rip the head off a child that is setting and playing with little metal cars!
To burst into a single level home on some side street in a quiet suburban neighborhood.
The family looking like they had just stepped out of a Norman Rockwell painting.
Only to tear them limb from limb, he is suddenly more the monster then they are.

But what to do?
It is his task in life as much as they need to on occasion kill and drink the blood of a human!

Fortunately Lorains even the born ones are not so innocent or a moral dilemma for him.
Cruel and blatant in their ways and no moral reservations to them.
They as much enjoy the torment of their victims as they do need their blood.
They more then the other classifications or sub classics do not try to hide their activities.

Depending more on isolated spots and the quick get-a-way to avoid being caught.
Leaving their victims torn and bloodless, for the World to know of them.
Many slaughter are covered up by the authorities rather then try to explain them.

These four were no different.

The three that were left had their plan and were now in position to strike.
They watched for the slightest hint as to which one was going to be a moments distraction?
That giving the other two the chance to strike and then the other would join in.

It was finally the male who moved, leaping forward he aimed for the Lobo’s chest.
While the female on the left stuck a second later then the female on the right flew in.

The Blanco Lobo was ready and from his back came the set of wings that formed a cone around him.
The wings were so hard and tough as much as the three clawed, and stuck the wings would not give or tear.
A claw came from an opening and one of the females was struck sideways and landed nearly split in two.

The other two immediately backed off, they realized that being so close was a deathly mistake.
Almost as to temp them, the wings folded back behind the Lobo and he stood staring.

They had heard of them but had never actually encountered the hunters of Vampires.
Which would explain them having never seen one, there were stories of a Vampire being able to defeat one but no real details of how they did it. So they were depending more on instinct then knowledge in this fight.
And it was seeming that instinct was not serving them all that well.

They moved back to the same dance they had tried before but this time it would be two on one.
The Lobo was not moving or seeming to be defensive in his stance.
He had the power, strength and skill in this and they were now far more leery of it.

Perhaps if one of them could slip behind while the other would distract?
The female hissed and screamed in an open display of anger and threat.
The male moved back a few steps to give him some distance in which to launch himself.
Vampires are quite able to launch themselves a great distance though the ceiling was far too low to actually fly.

By now the two were so worked up that they were transforming into the more hideous form.
Resembling more a human bat mixture then human, this is when they proved to be the most dangerous.
Able to use many more of their hidden powers than were needed for hunting and killing humans.

The male leaped a bit sideways and over the Lobo landing just to the side and behind him.
Striking with all his might but somehow missing the target?
The Lobo had dropped to all fours and then gripped the Vampire’s stomach with his jaws.
With a slight twist the Vampire was disemboweled and died screaming in pain.

Then as quickly as the Lobo could he was standing again on his hind feet.
Facing the now shocked and alarmed female who stood in front of him like she was frozen in place.
She was, totally at a loss as to what to do next as the odds were not in her favor.

With a human to set them at ease she would put out a aroma, a sexual scent that would attract them.
Males were easier to control and distracted if their sexual response was activated.
But this was no human and it only seem to cause him to be taken aback as if the scent was displeasing to his nose.

There was little doubt in her mind she was about to die now, her only hope would be that the Lobo would be overconfident and leave an opening. But judging from his actions he was not likely to make such a mistake.

She stood still and after a minute his clawed hand swiped out and her head was missing!

They were all dead, the fight over he stood looking over the room.
It was now time to plan the cover-up, the four humans hanging from the rafters.
The bodies of the four Vampires laying about the now empty bar.

He took the humans down and placed them to the rear of the room as if they had been trying to get out.
After he had gouged himself on the freshly killed female they were his food.

The Vampires he simply piled in a heap in the center and then grabbed what was left of the Whiskey and other alcohol behind the bar.
Then went about the bar and the bodies throwing the flammables for the fire.
He stood outside and peered back in, he had been too late to have stopped the carnage.
That saddened him, in a sense it made his actions somewhat pointless.
But then it happens he thought..
Outside he transformed back to his human form.

He had a problem with hunting the Lorains to him they smelled like Cow manure!
He would be distracted by every feed lot and herd of cattle as he flew over the countryside.
It would only be when he was within a mile that he would finally realized that it was not them.
And the Lord knows that rural Oklahoma had it share of feed lots and herds of cattle!

He took a lighter from his coat pocket and after striking it threw the lighter into the bar.
Suddenly the bright orange flame started growing and spreading.

It was about time to leave, he looked up into the starry sky so dark yet so beautiful.
Once again a thought occurred to him, could I meet a female of my kind this time?
There were so few left of his kind and not many to begin with.
So few that until about two hundred years ago they did not even have a name.
The name “Blanco Lobo” was given to his kind by a peasant in the lower reigns of Mexico.
Normally they were able to hide these conflicts, but one of the Blanco Lobo was almost too late and had to deal with another of the creatures they kill. The Negro Lobos as they were called otherwise known as a Werewolf to the human race.

After the fight the lone human was terrified and muttered “Blanco Lobo.... Blanco Lobo!
White wolf.... White Wolf! the name stuck at least for the named and with the creatures they hunted.
They had never reached the fame and legend of the Vampires and werewolves with the human race.
There were just to few to become widely know of.

But as their numbers dandled, the chances to mate did too. They were all born and not able to be “made” as the Vampires and Werewolves could.

He looked back to the Lone star bar as the flames were starting to climb into the night sky.
There was a chance someone would see the fire and he needed to leave now.
He slipped on his coat again and through the slits in the back pushed out his wings and extended.

With a few strong flaps he lifted off and rose into the night sky.
He took in a strong breath and soon found a scent he knew it was coming farther South and the slightness of it told him it was coming from pass Texas.... well into Mexico and the scent was that of several Negro Lobos....

My Will

Senior Member
This is a great read with excellent concepts. I really like that the main collective are not the stereotypical beautiful powerful clan. It breaks away from the cliche. It was clever to have the the Lorain group as misfits and dodgy humans as it adds to the idea that they are monsters to both humans and Vampires. I would love to read more of this. Hope you will post more.


Senior Member
This was a fair read up to the first blood. That's where I dropped out. Sorry.

Up to that point you did an overall good job of setting the scene, making it easy for the reader to see the old weather-worn bar. There are problems, though, such as 'a' old which should be 'an' old.

These two sentences should be made one, or the second should be changed slightly:
'Few people every(this should be "ever") came in except for a hand full of(a "few" would work better) ranch hands and the occasional biker or two who took the scenic route. That runs between O.K.C. and Chickasha Oklahoma on U. S. Highway eighty one. (either remove the full stop and make it one long sentence, or change the second to "That's the road that runs...")

You should spell out Oklahoma City, and drop the Oklahoma after Chickasha. This sentence is also confusing. Is the road the bar is on part of U-S 81, or does is it another road that goes to Chickasha, which is on 81? Also you should use numerals for the 81.

In talking about the biker you say he was 'setting toward the back. Wishing now...' It should by 'sitting', not 'setting', and again you either need to eliminate that full stop and make one long sentence, or add 'He was...' to the second.

If these sorts of problems persist throughout the piece, I would suggest a rewrite paying close attention to such details. Publishers have copy editors, but they are paid to catch the occasional misspelt word or punctuation error, not to correct more serious problems.
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Senior Member
THank you for pointing those out, one downfall of mine is I do not catch things like it without reading a hard copy for some reason. LOL they had to cut down an entire forest when I wrote a book length. Write, print, read and then re-write!


Senior Member
I am planning on it but time and this site do not seem to make allowance for the other.
Been working on the second installment and already have the third in mind.