Wednesday, 30 May 2012


FORGIVE ME EVERYONE! Okay enough apologies.

Reasons? I'll keep it short, since it is 10 o' clock at night, in the middle of winter here.

Internet service had to be reset, new cables set in, and then computer taken away by parents.

Satisfy your curiousities?

Now to commemorate my glorious return (did any of you notice I am even gone?), you get
 not one chapter, but two! (I guess I am just invisible)

Yes, yes I have been busy. I finished Lord Vlaedr Part One, and started with Part Two.

(hint: Part Two is better)

Each Part consists of Nine chapters.

Here you go! Feast your eyes, Patrick!

Chapter Six: Boogie Land....

Falling. A dizzying sensation caused by the rapid decreasing of one’s altitude. Also usually induces some sort of screaming. Or howling.

Vlaedr howled as he flew out the window, over the balcony, and down the side of the hotel. The air rushed by his face as he turned so that his face and stomach were pointing down. This is new, his brain registered mildly. His eyes watered, the ferocious wind snatching his wordless cry away. Through the streaming tears, he saw himself falling directly towards a huge, rusted warehouse of sorts.

There was a massive, Crrsk! And Bthank! And Vlaedr knew no more.


Vlaedr registered the sound as he woke up. He opened his eyes, flinching at the pain that it caused.


There it was again. Vlaedr listened for it closely this time. He moved his head to the side to see if it came from there.


He rubbed his bloody neck. It seemed that he was making the terrible groaning. Which means he woke himself up. If I wasn’t so beffuddleedalllldslssss...... Vlaedr thought thuggishly, I would be proud of myssssellffllsls......

He tried to sit up, noticing massive shards of wood and planking everywhere. On his legs, in his legs, trapping his arm, impaling his other arm, through his chest.....

He grunted, pulling a sword-like chunk from his chest. The blood flowed down his leather-chest, thing-a-bobber. He tried once again to sit up, coughing blood as he noticed with some interest that his ribs were broken. He succeeded with great persistence, and got shakily into a crouch.

He looked up, the roof way up high. A giant, jagged hole stood off to the side of his position. Then he noticed the boxes. Crates and crates, made of wood, filled the warehouse to the top. A line of broken crates slanted down from the jagged hole.

That’s where I must have made my entry. And then my nice soft descent, Vlaedr thought, grimacing.

White dust was everywhere, floating in the air, through the weak light that Vlaedr’s new sky light provided. His chest, hair, and blood were covered in the stuff. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. Then he coughed, as a pleasing fire spread through his body. I am in crack, he realized. It has the same consistency and odour as the drugs the doctor knocked me out with. I am swimming in crack.

He slowly rose, yanking out chunks of wood out of his arms and legs as he went. He had decided not to make a sound. Whoever bombed the crap out of our place, clearly meant business. Vlaedr looked around. And I may be new to this, but I know an assassin’s handiwork when I see it.

He limp-crawl-climbed out of his little crater of crates, leaving a nice shiny blood trail. When he got to what appeared to be an aisle, he dropped down in a heap, grateful for the respite. He quickly and silently plucked out the rest of the shards, examining his body for damage. Other than broken ribs, impaled innards, half his face being bruised, and his legs being burned by the explosion, he seemed dandy.

He quickly checked his inventory. Grenades, check. Ka-Bar, check. Pants, badly burned, check. Chest armour with holes, check. Singed cloak, check. Then he remembered. M9? He quickly searched himself. Nothing. He groaned.

I may be genetically altered, but I wouldn’t last in hand-to-claw combat for 5 seconds. I am wounded, bleeding, and burnt, without any ranged weapons. Wonderful. Vlaedr quickly scanned the surroundings for enemies. Well, Skai was right. The handgun didn’t do me any good. Either it dropped away from me in the fall, or it’s back in blood-crater.

Skai! Vlaedr scanned the warehouse roof for any more holes. Even if he did fall with me, he wouldn’t have survived. I don’t think anyone else besides me would have survived. Vlaedr sighed sadly. Either way, he died painlessly. I just don’t know what I am going to tell Vesalda. And I was just starting to like him...

I need to keep moving, he realized. The longer I stay here, the better chance of them discovering I am alive. But I also need to rest to heal.... He started limping away, feeling better than 5 minutes before. He decided to follow the aisle until he hit an exit. With his knife in his left hand, his right holding his ribs, he made his way as quick as he could.

He turned left, right, right again, and as he rounded another corner, he came face to face with a gun-toting security guard. The man widened his eyes, dropped the gun and ran back the way he came. Vlaedr rolled his eyes and threw the Ka-Bar. The man went flying, falling on his face.

Vlaedr limped over to the man, who was now anxiously tugging at the knife in his thigh. He stopped bothering the knife and started crawling away. He let out a cry of fear before a there was silence. Vlaedr gently lowered the unconscious man’s head, and yanked out his weapon.

Then he kept going. Enough innocent’s have died today. Vlaedr thought. Wait, was that sympathy?  He wondered angrily, stopping. After a while he kept going. Next time I will finish the job. It is a waste of energy and time, if I let the prey go. I have to keep nature in balance. The survival of the fittest. He nodded, satisfied with his reasoning.

Every now and then he would stop and sniff, letting the Beast side through. He also kept a close ear on any sounds in the warehouse. Mostly, all he heard was the falling of an odd crate every now and then from where he fell. Finally, he got to the side of the warehouse, and spotted a red, rusty door. A strange, rhythmic beat reached his earshot.

Vlaedr cautiously proceeded, limping right up to the door. The sound was coming from behind it. He readied his knife and slowly opened the door, the beat louder now, intermingled with shouting. Coloured patterns of light swirled in his vision, twirling and jumping bodies moving to the sound of the beat. The place smelled of sweat, heat, and alcohol. It was a night club. A night club owned the factory.

He quickly looked behind him and stepped into the club, closing the door behind him. He hid his knife in what was left of his sleeve and let his cloak settle heavily over him, hunching to keep his face out of sight. Then he stepped into the crowd.

Drunken men shouting, intoxicated girls screaming, and the same groovy-beat overwhelmed Vlaedr’s ears. His nostrils were over-powered by smoke, alcoholic-fumes, and the sweat of a hundred young bodies. Besides being wounded and hunted for his life, Vlaedr couldn’t help but find the very large primal side of him, swaying to the beat as he fought his way through the crowd.

When I am not hunted down as prey, one day, I will come back to this place. Vlaedr thought with excitement. Then the Bestial side won again and he moved with greater purpose and strength. His will to survive was kicking in.

He stepped into the darkness of night, lit by the glow of the neon signs, into the street. He memorized the club’s name. Then he turned around, checking his area, before locating the burning top of their hotel, the fires still flickering high. It stood more than a block away.

That was some seriously powerful explosives, Vlaedr thought angrily. Explosives meant to kill me. Explosives that didn’t come cheap.

He scanned up and down the street, closely watching the girls and couples that were laughing and walking by. Well, they just blundered into the Bear’s cave, not knowing what they did. Caught him sleeping. He looked back at the hotel one last time before walking the opposite direction.

Never again...

Chapter Seven: You Have Leveled Up...

Vlaedr roared, jerking his claws across the soft larynx. The blood splattered against the wall with a soft sigh.

He stood there, panting, gazing about him. Seven bodies lay in the room around him. All of them were mauled or cut to pieces. Vlaedr resisted the siren-call of their warm flesh and retrieved his Ka-Bar in the first soldier he had killed, right next to the door.

They had burst in, M16’s aimed right for his heart, about 10 minutes ago. All dressed in black body armour, and armed to the teeth. None of that had seemed to help. Vlaedr examined a dead body. This equipment is expensive. Only available to highly trained soldiers and mercenaries, Vlaedr thought, musing.

He walked over to what appeared to be the leader. He was the second one Vlaedr killed. Partly because he was the one that had thrown the grenade in Vlaedr’s face and partly because he had the compact, and deadly, CA M870 Sawed-Off Shotgun. And there was no doubt in Vlaedr’s mind that its fire could have blown off his head. Given the chance of course.

He picked up the heavy weapon, stroking it thick, black opaque muzzle. It’s a beauty, Vlaedr thought, cocking it. Then he slipped its holster over his shoulder, and placed it in it. And now it’s my beauty. Looks like Skai got what he wanted.

His smile dropped from his face. Skai. Dead. Already. And they hadn’t even begun this adventure.

Don’t think about Skai now, he thought, grabbing ammunition and leaning out the four-story window. Vengeance. That is all that matters. That, and getting to the Sanctuary.

He frowned and reached into his camo-pants pocket. Out came the wrinkled and torn verification papers. Well it will still work, he thought relieved. Then he checked his watch. One hour to noon. I will get there by two o’ clock.

He made sure that no one was outside in the street, before jumping. He landed in a crouch, spreading his hands to keep balance. He checked both ways for threats, and then he started jogging towards the ocean. The streets were small and narrow, very confusing for a newcomer.

He ran into a side alley, saw that it was blocked and turned around. Three badly dressed men moved to block his way, carrying broken bottles and pipes. They smiled at him in a threatening way. He smiled back.

Then there were three, massive Cracks! and Vlaedr had lunch. He noticed that they weren’t particularly clean. Neither did they smell good. But food was food. And murder was murder.

He wiped his mouth and slipped the ring back on. Then he reloaded his shotgun and slipped into its holster again. He stepped over the mangled bodies, looked to see if anyone was screaming “Vampire!”, and continued on his way.

People stared at his bedraggled appearance, recoiled at the blood splattered on him, and then immediately minded their own business when they noticed his “upgrade”. Vlaedr grinned. I think I just keep levelling up.

After two and a half hours of that, Vlaedr arrived at the Sanctuary in a good mood.

The building stood at the end of a street, in the centre of the cul-de-sac. It was a ramshackle, but large, old hotel. Clearly it had been closed down years ago; it stood close to the water front, surrounded by newer and considerably bigger buildings. From its entrance, Vlaedr could just hear the ocean, and glimpse a bit of sea between two other hotels.

Is it just me, or do all Sanctuaries seem to be built under old and cheap buildings, he wondered, walking into what used to be the lobby. He stood there for a minute of two, wondering what to do.

Then he took out the verification papers and waved them around. “Hello? I think this is the South American Sanctuary..... I have verification papers.... “

He trailed off, standing in the swirling dust that had been disturbed by his entry. Then he sat down against the wall. And so he waited. After twenty minutes, a flustered looking man walked out from behind the check-in counter.

He sighed and rolled his eyes. “According to protocol you are supposed to knock on the counter three times, then once, and then three times again.”

Vlaedr stood up and frowned. The man had an Australian accent. “You work at the South American Sanctuary, but you are from Australia? That just seems... racist.”

The man coughed, blushing. “Excuse me! I applied for this job! It is an honour to work in a high tech facility like the South American Sanctuary.” He gestured around him. Then he remembered they were standing in the dusty lobby. “Not this specific place,” he said quickly.

Vlaedr stuffed the papers into the man’s hands and yawned. “Look I am supposed to help here, now either take me to your leader and give me food, or die and be food.”

The man went pale and led the way. Vlaedr followed behind the counter, down some concealed stairs, and into a big waiting room, with the Crunchy-Looking Scythers standing at intervals next to the walls. The man lead Vlaedr to a large, rectangular room with white walls and many tables, muttering something about food and soon, before leaving.

Vlaedr sat down and twirled his ring, mesmerized by the way the light caught its edges. After a few minutes, a strange smell filled the room, followed by a small cough, the sort that people use when they try to get your attention.

Vlaedr dived over the table, whipping out his “upgrade”, and loving the way its weight settled in his hands. He trained it on the figure before him. His smile dropped.

Then he lowered the shotgun slowly. The smell was Vanilla.

A smile spread across the other man’s face.

It was Skai.
Whoooooo!!!!!!! Yeaah!!!!!!!!

Sit back and relax as the shell shock goes away. Not really.

Hope you enjoyed.... AND COMMENT!

OMG I HAVE 7 FOLLOWERS! *shoots into air*

Sunday, 6 May 2012

Long time, no Blog....

I haven't Blogged in a while. Funny.

Not really.

Here is Chapter Five, I believe.....

Chapter Five: New Arrivals...

“I still don’t understand why you made me dress up like this...” Vlaedr grumbled as he stepped off the private jet. “Or why you even agreed to partner up with me.”

Vlaedr was dressed in black and grey camo pants, wearing layered leather chest armour, all topped with a hooded cloak. He had his weapons strapped on him strategically, his M9 at his ribs again, his Ka-Bar on his thigh with a hole in the pants for the handle. This time his grenades were strapped to his belt at the small of his back.

“Ah, my friend, that gear compliments you. It will protect you slightly, and makes you look like a rogue. It’s a pity I didn’t have time to get you some magical protective clothes....”

Skai was decked out with a tight body suit, magically protected, and had a jacket and jeans over it. He carried a two handed “Great Sword” on his back, disguised by his clothes. He had talked about its magical history and how it had been passed down by his family. All Vlaedr could remember was that it sometimes catches fire.

“These clothes are fine. I don’t need no magical protection. You didn’t answer my second question.” Vlaedr replied slightly less grumpy and a bit more grateful. “Why did you decide to partner with me? A badly dressed rogue?”

Skai stepped off the ladder and walked over to Vlaedr, standing in front of him.

“Because it doesn’t take a genius to see that you have no idea how this world works. Plus, excitement is bound to follow a misshapen freak like you.” He said smiling. “And I have seen enough homeless and lonely people, to know when I am looking at one.” He said, his smile turning mischievous.

“I’m not homeless...” Vlaedr muttered as he followed Skai to the airport doors. “You still haven’t been very clear on why you joined up with me.....”

“Hidden motives, Vlaedr. That is all that you are getting out of me for now.” He called over his shoulder, as he entered the airport.

Vlaedr clamped down on his urge to tear Skai apart, and entered after him.

Riding down a bumpy jungle road, is not fun. Riding down a bumpy jungle road in a 4x4 truck that squeals and clatters like a dying robot, is quite worse. And riding rown a jumpy bungle doad.... Wait, what?

Needless to say, Vlaedr was uncomfortable. Distractingly so.

They were headed to a city, Rio de Janeiro, Vlaedr remembered. He hadn’t really been paying attention when Skai was talking about their destination. He was infinitely more interested by the leathery, browned locals they were passing. And the way they seemed to resemble dates... Tough and chewy on the outside, but gloriously sweet and juicy inside....

Vlaedr grimaced for the millionth time as they hit another of the trillion holes in the road. He growled loudly, annoyed the hell out of. Skai glanced over from his own bubble of misery, on the left side of the truck.

“I know how you feel, Beastie-Boy.” Skai said, flinching as they hit another pit of pain, on this pathetic path. “I don’t think I have ever been this uncomfortable.” He grabbed his sword and stowed under his seat, as it started sliding towards Vlaedr.

“Yeah, well you try having your body adjusted, modified, and mutated unnaturally, whilst growing and changing naturally.” Vlaedr muttered dispiritedly. He yelped as the truck abruptly dropped a foot or so. He glared at the smiling driver.

“Sorry, senor.” The driver turned on to a side road, albeit a lot smoother.

“Well I can’t say I have. But have you ever had your arm burned off?” Skai said, actually having heard Vlaedr’s comment. He braced himself as the truck went airborne off a big rock.

“No.” Vlaedr growled. “How did you get that right?”

Skai grinned. “I didn’t. It’s never happened to me either.”

Vlaedr sneered and turned back to stare out the window. Just as the car dipped sideways into a rather oblong pothole. Vlaedr rubbed his nose and sullenly turned to face the front.

“How far is it?” Vlaedr asked Skai.

He examined his watch. “About 5 minutes closer since the last time you asked.

The valet looked at Vlaedr’s claws for a few seconds more than was polite, before snapping out of it when Vlaedr growled. He swallowed and grabbed their cases, leading Skai and Vlaedr into the elevator. Vlaedr examined himself in the shiny interior. His hair was matted and stuck up in the most sinister way, his eyes howling with frustration at the long trip.

He immediately forgave the valet.

Luckily, Skai had already made reservations at a 5 star hotel in Rio de Janeiro, so all they had to do was pick up their room cards. Another stroke of luck was that while Skai supervised their cases being unloaded (more like all Skai’s cases, since Vlaedr only had one), was that Vlaedr had time to devour a wonderful little couple he found smooching behind the hotel.

The elevator rose gently, the only sound was the soft whirring of machinery and the nervous swallowing of the valet.

Their room was at the top of the hotel, a massively posh affair, with a bar, Jacuzzi, and two double beds. And of course a giant bathroom and a beautiful sky-line view of Rio de Janeiro and the ocean beyond. Vlaedr immediately flung himself on one of the beds, while Skai paid the wide-eyed valet and unpacked his numerous cases.

A short nap later and Vlaedr was in a considerably good mood. After all, one couldn’t get a lot of rest on Hell’s Highway through Bloody Paradise, he mused. He stood up and looked out the balcony. The sun was gently setting in a flurry of red and yellow streaks. The city was coming alive with the sounds of laughing and partying, while hundreds of coloured lights started glowing.

He turned around as Skai walked out of the bathroom, hair glistening wetly, while his body steamed ever-so slightly. Vlaedr noticed with interest, the curly chest hair in between where the bath robes edges met in the middle. And the scars underneath them.

“I assume you showered?” Vlaedr asked as nicely as he could. “You seem older and more experienced than I expected, now that I see what is underneath all that designer clothes.”

Skai smiled that charismatic smile and walked towards the bar. “Yes, well, things aren’t always what they seem, my hairy friend.” He started making himself a drink. “You yourself hide many secrets underneath that skin of yours.”

Vlaedr shrugged and double-checked his weapons, before strapping them back on.

“You know...” Skai said thoughtfully, sipping the dark green alcoholic drink he had made. “A handgun doesn’t exactly suite you. I mean, the knife and grenades are fine, but....” He took another sip. “One does not simply expect a dangerous-looking figure like you, to have a petty pistol.”

Vlaedr frowned and examined his handgun.

“I kind of like it. Besides, we can’t exactly get me a whole different weapon in a new country neither of us have been.” He re-attached it to his side. “And if I am so “dangerous-looking” character, then why did you let me into your house?”

And once again, Skai smiled that infuriating smile, his eyes containing a spark of seriousness. “Why do you think I let my sister greet you first?”

Vlaedr frowned, confused. Skai settled into a big, plush couch, sighing in a pleased manner as he leaned back. Suddenly, Vlaedr twitched, hearing a foreign sound. Then the bar exploded.

Exciting isnt it? It just gets better.....

Wednesday, 2 May 2012

ENOUGH. Now for some action.

Well I have had it with boring chapters, that have the sole purpose to set my new character up.

We need action!

I had fun with this next chapter, although it isn't that exciting. Sure, its getting there, and when it gets there, it will be a roller coaster that doesnt stop, but we arent there. And we need to be there.

After Chapter Four things start heating up. And they just don't stop.

Bear with me, rare readers of this really rusty.... blog?
Okay, enough alliteration.

To Chapter Four!

Chapter Four: Partners in Crime...

It was a proper storm by the time Vlaedr got to this Marx Skailus’s house. Or mansion.

“Last stop, man. I gotta get home to the wife and kids.” The cabbie said as Vlaedr paid him with his last few Euros. He got out and stood next to the gate. He was looking for a gatehouse or something, when he went flying, face-first, into the Big Golden Gates.

He rolled over, spitting blood, and squinted into the glare of the cab’s headlights. “I have HAD it with you maniacs! Why do people keep hitting me with DAMNED CARS!!!!”

Through the bright light, Vlaedr saw the cab driver. Or what used to be a cab-driver. In front of his eyes, the cab driver raised his arm, ripping off the skin on his head. Underneath, there was a white, pale creature. The black, oblong eyes stared at him hungrily. Then it opened the door and got out of the car in one, smooth movement.

“I don’t know what you are, or why you aren’t dead from that bullet in your chest,” It rasped as it settled into a crouch. “But you smell... delicious. And quite different from normal humans....”

Vlaedr stood up, glaring at the creature before him. Then, suspicion entered his mind. “Wait. Are you a Vampire?”

The creature laughed raspily, and nodded. “Aren’t too smar....”

But then it had no time to speak, for a slab of muscle and fur hit him with such force that the cab was actually pushed backwards a meter or two.  There was two flashes as the M9 went off, burying two bullets into Vampire’s head. The beast stood up, hunched over the broken cab’s hood, where the drying Vampire lay.

A wolfish face emerged out of the dark form, sniffing the broken Vampire’s face. It vaguely saw the monstrous form and had just enough time to register alarm before the beast buried its muzzle in the Vampire’s chest, ripping out large chunks of flesh and sinew.

Vlaedr straightened, wiping his bloody face, and making sure the ring was securely on his finger and his gun back in his strap. “I hate Vampires!” He said to the corpse. Then he knocked on a side door, next to the gate. After being leered at by the suspicious guard, he was let in.

Vlaedr quickened his pace as the guard noticed the cab, hurrying up the long driveway to the mansion. The mansion was a honey-beige colour, the stone trimmings a light brown. It was three stories high, with large open windows, and old fashioned shutters. The front door was two large slabs of wood, with massive hinges.

What is this, a castle? Vlaedr thought as he walked to the door-gate. Why couldn’t they just buy a normal door? Why do you have to go buy the whole damn forest, instead of just one tree? He licked his lips. At least he had a nice snack before he arrived. It had helped his temper a bit.

The thunder flashed, and the rain intensified. Vlaedr banged against the doors with both hands as hard as he could. It felt good.

A few seconds later a tall, slim woman opened the door. Her hair was long, touching the small of her back, and a nice honey colour. She wore a long sleeved robe that was tied like a kimono. She was tanned, and had a small curved scar on her temple. Her eyes were bright blue. Literally, bright blue. Shining bright blue. It was distracting.

Vlaedr straightened, and nodded half-civilly. He decided to be as quick and to the point as you can be with chattering, bloody teeth.

“I am not a Vampire. I HATE vampires. I fought one outside your gate (he left out the eating bit) Your door is massive. Your eyes shine bright blue. I have travelled a long way to get here. May I come in?”

The woman smiled and laughed softly.

“You certainly do know how to introduce yourself. I never thought you were a Vampire, and I hate them too. Who wouldn’t? Come in, I will make you some tea.”

Slightly suspicious at the warm welcome, Vlaedr wiped his feet before walking into the house. The walls were a slightly lighter honey colour, with a large spiral stair case in the middle of the hall, leading up three floors. The walls were covered with tapestries. There was a large, plush carpet in the middle of the hall, with old fashioned figures woven on.

Vlaedr followed the woman to the kitchen. It was a large, marble affair, with plenty of modern, shiny appliances. She gave him a wet towel with a slight smile and then she started boiling the kettle, and setting out cups.

Vlaedr watched the door ways and glanced at the woman every now and then, as he cleaned himself up. He watched the stairs suspiciously too, just waiting for someone to run down them and tackle him. He heard someone clearing their throat, and quickly looked back at the woman. She was smiling and handing him a cup of steaming tea.

“Sorry.” He said in a gravelly voice.

She laughed again, a wonderful soft laugh.

“So what brings you here, my dear animal.” Vlaedr almost choked on his tea.

“Uh... Well...” He quickly wiped his mouth.

She smiled again.

“I am looking for a certain Marx Skailus.” Vlaedr said, opting for a warm tone. He didn’t quite make it.

She smiled wide now.

“Well, he seems to be behind you.”

Vlaedr spun around, taking care not to spill the tea. He was only moderately successful.

A young man stood in front of him. He had jet-black hair smoothed back, and he was wearing a suit, with a purple rose on his lapel. He smelled faintly of vanilla. His head came to Vlaedr’s shoulders, and he was well built.

“And with whom do I have the pleasure?” Marx said, smiling charmingly.

“Vlaedr. Lord Vlaedr.” Vlaedr said, extending his free hand.

Marx shook his hand, marking the thick bone structure and bloody claws with interest.

“Well dearest brother, I will now be retreating to my chambers. It was the utmost pleasure meeting you, Vlaedr.” She smiled widely, and walked gracefully up the stairs.

“Goodnight, dearest Vesalda.” Marx said, releasing Vlaedr’s hand and nodding to his sister. “Let us continue our conversation in the lounge.”

Marx lead the way to the lounge, a posh little room, filled with book cases, arm chairs, and a large fire place.

“Now, Lord. May I call you Lord?” He said settling into one of the large arm chairs.

“Please call me Vlaedr. I had a very narcissistic maker.” Vlaedr said, choosing the arm chair opposite Marx.

“Well call me Skai. I had a very fancy father. Rich too, as you can see.” Skai said smiling. “Now why did you travel here? What would you like to discuss?”

And so, warm and comfortable for the first time that day, Vlaedr explained his need, his commission, and his confusion about Vampires.

Skai leaned back thoughtfully. He was silent for a long while, obviously contemplating Vlaedr’s words. Vlaedr stared out the window, wondering where he was going to sleep outside, and whether it would be more comfortable to take his ring off....

Then, suddenly, Skai leaned forward again, smiling roguishly.

“Partners, you say?” His smile widened. “I think South America is calling our names, my friend.”

“More like calling us, I would say....” Vlaedr muttered as he examined his new companion with fair suspicion. “Why do you decide to trust me?”

Skai smiled. “We can discuss this fully in the morning. For now, let me get you a room. You look like you have had an interesting day.... Partner.”

There. Dear Lord, its been long, but so worth it. Next chapter will be better. I am still so rusty....

Oh! Before I forget, here is a picture of Lord Vlaedr. Its not the best image, and I did it between 1 am and 2 am in the morning, but it works.

Oh wow the camera sucks. It actually blocks out all my shading. Hopefully you still get a good idea how it looks.

Hope you like. I hate this camera.

(notice how he has a new scar on his lip-cheek, and massive bruising on the side of his face. Or maybe you wont, since this camera sucks)

Tuesday, 1 May 2012

Yes, the Internet failed once again....

The title explains it.

You know.... I just..... I feel so betrayed by the internet.....

I can't even speak properly. My trust in it will never grow back. Forever it it shall be considered unreliable.

I hope you are happy internet. Well done.


I was went to some nice shops the other day. All of them had swords, throwing knives/starts, tasers, and walking sticks-swords. Needless to say, I felt compelled to buy something, being a guy and all.

Here is my little wakizashi:

And here are my little throwing knives:

Notice how I already messed up the beautifully wrapped handle. Oh well.

Now, enough gag-lollying.

Chapter......  (Checks which one is next) Chapter Three! Enjoy:

Chapter Three: You got a Friend in me.....

Vlaedr strode out of the building and turned around. The building was grey and drab, and used to be an office. Now it was rust stained at the edges and the windows were fogged over. Oh, and it was the London Sanctuary. But that didn’t matter. Because Vlaedr was hungry. No food had appeared in the Sanctuary. Just more of those crunchy-looking Scythe people.
Vlaedr felt for his M9, securely strapped to his ribs, under his jacket. He made sure his Ka-Bar was also secure on his inner thigh, and loosened it to make a quick draw easy. His grenades were in a plastic bag in his hand. He still hadn’t figured out where to strap them.
As he walked down the side walk, heading towards the Thames, he thought about everything that the Grand Mages or whatever they were called, had said. Basically they wanted him to work for them. But he didn’t want to. He had been mad that no food had been provided.
Vlaedr passed a few coffee shops, side stepping where someone had spilled. They had been quite persistent, but Vlaedr had simply said he had been controlled his whole life, and no more. So they had offered him a free-lance job. Whatever that meant. He had asked politely for food in payment for being a free-lancer. Nothing.
An oncoming cyclist whizzed by Vlaedr, almost hitting him. He growled. They had told him of reports coming from South America, that something dire was happening there. Only vague messages were coming through, but things sounded bad. Bad sorcerers. Evil things. Nothing to do with food.
Vlaedr stopped at the edge of the bridge, looking at the murky water below, called the Thames River. They wanted him to visit the Sanctuary there. If there was one. Help out anyway HE can.... They said they wanted some backup there, in case things got bad. They had given him some papers, called verification papers, and a passport and two tickets. But not food.
Why two tickets? This world is dangerous. Everyone works in partners these days... They had told him. He had pointed out that everyone also had food these days. Glares and dark frowns.
And so, Vlaedr was looking for a partner.... Damn......
Vlaedr crossed the bridge and went to the nearest thing he could call a food shop. Well at least they gave me the names of a few places I could find partners... He thought depressively. Now I don’t have to wander London.... Looking for food....
A plan. He needed a plan. He went through the produce aisle and passed the wine racks. First Eat. Then figure out where you are.... Then Find Partner.

The house in front of Vlaedr was very much small. The door look like it was cut in half to fit, and there was one window on the second floor. It was painted yellow originally, but now the paint had cracks everywhere so it looked, well, bad. The roof was just a piece of metal that slanted to the left.
Vlaedr stared at the house, and then walked up the stone path that counted as the walkway.  He stopped before the door, and knocked softly. Then he knocked harder. Then he banged on the door.
A flustered looking man opened the door, looking at Vlaedr angrily. He opened his mouth to start shouting, and then he noticed Vlaedr’s hands. His eyes widened. Vlaedr quickly stepped inside and closed the door, covering the man’s mouth with the other hand.
Vlaedr spoke quickly, and quietly. “I am Lord Vlaedr, call me Vlaedr. I am not a Vampire, I hate Vampires. I am not here to hurt you, I just want to talk.”
He removed his hands slowly from the man’s mouth.
The man glared at him and spoke angrily. “I know your kind. Dabbling in the dark Magic’s. Well I refuse to talk to you. You are a mutation. I hate you already. Let it never be said that Inferious Crane helped a Dark Mage. Good day to you!”
Vlaedr tried to speak, deny, shout, anything really, but the man threw up his hands and Vlaedr flew out the door way.
The door slammed as Vlaedr stood up. He howled angrily and stalked away.

The cab slowed to a stop in front of the video store. Vlaedr paid the man and stepped out into the rain. He growled in annoyance and walked to the door.
The door made that annoying sound all video shops have at the front entrance when you open them. Vlaedr growled at the door and shook the rain out of his hair.
A very thin looking man stood at the counter, pierced everywhere you could see. He had a spiky Mohawk, dyed black, and a few tattoos on his neck. Vlaedr marched up to the counter and slammed his claw-fist against the counter. Then he growled for good measure.
“I am looking for Obanex Strife. Are you him or are you not?” He growled again.
“I be Obanex... What do you want, Vampire-Dude?” He said in a slow tone.
“I am not a Vampire! I hate Vampires!” Vlaedr roared.
“Thats cool, thats cool. I am going to have to ask you to leave though... Its closing time and you are scaring the custos, man.”
Vlaedr turned around in a slow turn scanning the store. No one.
“Look here, frog legs! I drove three hours to get here! And we are going to have a nice long chat, you hear me snap-stick?!”
Obanex nodded slowly, closing his eyes in agreement. Then he took out a large revolver and shot Vlaedr in the chest.
Vlaedr just glared at the man.
“No, Beast-Man. I really have to close now. Have a good day and come back soon!” He said cheerfully, starting to pack away his things.
Vlaedr stomped out of the shop, ripping the bell-thingy off the door, and got back in the cab.
“Last stop and then I’m done! Take me to the damn residence of...”
He stopped and looked at his list.
“...Marx Skailus...”
I think that is one of my longer chapters.

Well, let me know what you think or dont think about it.