13th CenturyWinterberg Village of the NorthThe village of Winterberg had suffered several attacks over the past few weeks, but a big one occurred a few days ago. A massive vampire attack had killed many before them, forcing them to flee to neighbouring villages. A few days before, they had tried to pitch a tent and erect temporary houses, but vampires and uncivilized hordes had razed them not long after. The countryside was in an uproar; people were running in the fields to escape the dark enemy, squealing and shouting with relief. However, Knight Ambrose was one of the few who wanted to fight the creatures. Willing to fight the vampires to gain more votes from the lords and dwellers of the nearby townlet.On his right, the hills were decadent with green foliage and new-sprung buds, and the valley was the most friendly place of them all, sunlit and serene; it rose as if they were the proud parents of the greenery they supported on their rock foundation.It was on the first morning o
Taking a deep breath, Knight Ambrose pushed the floral, filthy curtain aside and arrived at the witch's shelter. Inside was dimly candlelit, the air thick with incense and drying herbs, but Knight Ambrose could notice little more than the pair of emerald eyes inches before his own. Lips pressed to his in an incredible kiss, and then she withdrew as much as was possible within the small expanse, placing a table strewn with silver curiosities between them. A young witch she was, still with the sweetness of girlhood yet stepping with confidence into the shoes of womanhood. His Nirvana, a silver-long-haired maiden, was sweet and beautiful. With her long flower petticoat, she became a beacon of light in this tiny place. 'Beautiful' indeed she was, that spark in her eye, the one that says she was up for an adventure. Extraordinary and elegant was her heart, the one that loves so deeply and cares so much for others. Gorgeous was how she was born, and with her coven and human friends standing
Later that night, nosiness and curiosity were a hankering that must be stricken; uncertainty must finally break, and so it was that come nightfall, the entirety of the village of Winterberg had assembled in the courtyard. Torches had been lit, and some old lamps were on their hands and set in sconces for light, though a few were yet held, some alongside scythes, pitchforks, and daggers. The expression was sceptical, and the murmuring throng was not a crowd by any means, but it had heard about groups and was keeping its options open depending on how things went.Knight Ambrose arrived in shadow, lit by the enormous orange sphere of the full moon rising at his back. The wind was frigid, and the distant wolf howled in unison. He led his mount to the courtyard, where he had first announced his intentions, tying the horse to a post at the square's end. He strolled to the very centre of the throng, dealing with none. At the foot of the gibbet, standing his full height, he commenced to draw
Her father looked sternly at the men, "How many times have I told you that with women it is satisfactory to affirm your superiority over them gradually. If you threaten them, your entertainment with them is consistently dissatisfying. Isn't it better to have a voluntary prey than an unresponsive lump of wood?"The chief gazed immodestly at her mother, licking his lips absently. Unexpectedly he returned from his contemplations and seemed settled on a course of action.The chief regarded the lovely wife in front of him. Her ginger blonde hair reached below her shoulders and her simple dress did nothing to hide her well-developed breasts that jutted provocatively, tightly sprawling the delicate material of her coat that had been somewhat yanked from her shoulders. His eyes fixed on her slender white legs revealed graciously by his oversight underlings and traveled them from her generously turned ankles to the covered womanhood. Though her mound was hidden by subtle undergarments, the rip
Hours later, the party of bandits pulled them all up and took them to the nearby town for a slave auction.The rigorous grey stone building stood alone on foreboding wharves, indifferent to the wave and tide of life within and without it. Meager trees bent and curved from constant storms almost touched the underside of the second-floor windows. A swiveled rutted alley obscured from the fresh downpours, ceased unexpectedly at two enormous iron thresholds darkened with age. Approaching the hostile territory, a loose carriage thundered along with the mist-bound road, its scratchings, and whines swallowed by the wind. Three unconscious naked passengers wrapped in a rugged lay in the chill snow behind a miserable-looking driver. Who bought the three from the bandits with ten silvers. He, snuggled under a winter tunic and frock with another man, whipped the horse onward in a rambling attitude. The man hunched together for heat; a kerchief wrapped around their heads to safeguard them from th
The next morning, the sunrise broke and the three were woken by the sun streaming through the cracks in the wall. The two women, still weary from their nighttime endeavors, rolled groggily from their animal-skin blankets and wrapped promptly in the cold morning air. Last night, when everyone was fast asleep, the two went outside and took a bath in the not-so-far lake and cleaned themselves.Climbing down the ladder from her chamber still, pissed off and a bit irritated to have gotten the duty to take care of the slaves, Kalah splashed cold water from the trough onto her face to wash away the traces of sleep. The headmistress of the auction, Venus, invited her into her kitchen and she was surprised to discover that she had made hot dry rye flatbread and herbal tea for her and the slaves. She girls ate hungrily and Venus uncharacteristically, smiled as she wolfed the food down. "When you're down, Kalah brings the food to the peasant and lets them out for a morning sun.""Milady, forgive
Andrew sighed in relief and brushed himself off and sought at the death of his servants. It was not an emotion for their existence that drove him. He would have to lay them to rest and bury them, complete the cleaning alone with the addition of the two lions, and bring everything back to the village himself. He checked the animal skins draped on his shoulders.With no memories, he relied on the servant's tale. They said that his animal skin had been a special gift from his mother, a farmer who had ascertained that they bore the mysterious spell of removing the natural fear of creatures toward the wearer. With his no-nonsense memories, he believed them, and even though he knew he was not just a man, and a mere hunter but a powerful vampire at the same time. He knew he was Andrew Lawvosky. A predator but aside from his previous memories from hundreds of years ago yet none of this time. 13th century England, the year of the lord. Looking at his animal skins allowed him to get closer to
Later that night, in his cabin, he spent an impatient night, his mind feverishly reliving his adventures with Criselda and formulating new recreations they could savor. He was up early and this time, he went for a loaf of bun, well seasoned with the love balm. He noticed that his ratio was getting low; only enough to make another two or three sexual incursions.He left his cabin immediately after breakfast and walked briskly along the alley to Criselda's shack. As he strolled he saw someone ahead of him. It looked a little like Criselda so he gained his pace. When he caught up he found it was Lalita. He wasn't sure how old Lalita was, about twenty-three years old? In truth, she was thirty-three, though still youthful-looking and married to a wealthy old Lord. It had been a union made in the back pouches of her papa, who had been well reimbursed to adapt the mate. "Hello Milady, fancy a beautiful morning."Ah, Knight Ambrose, good morning. Your bun smells amazing. Where are you going s