From beneath, it devours

[Madame Tamassa]

*This late at night there were few, if any, residents out and about on the dusty streets of Deepdwellers Gulch. The night was still and silent. A thin sliver of a moon shared the night sky with a single winking star. Windows in houses and storefronts were dark. Although there was no wind to speak of, a single tumbleweed made its way down the main street, coming to rest on the hitching post out the front of the Deepdweller Brothel. Inside, Tamassa’s “Ladies of the Night” were doing what they did best; servicing the few men that had survived the night so far. They sensed something in the air, a portent of what was to come perhaps, but were too entrenched in their business to pay it much mind.

Under the dirty crust of the town, beneath the streets and rusty plumbing, were the tunnels that led to the mines. Many residents did not know they existed. Those that did know of their whereabouts, thought it of no importance. For the three souls making their way through them on this fateful night however, these tunnels might just become their tombs.

A low rumbling could be heard to the three, if either of them cared to listen to it. A smell, similar to sulphur, could be smelled; faint at first, but quickly becoming overpowering. They had disturbed something during their time in the mines - something that had been lying dormant for longer than the town itself. Now it was awakening, and the town would be forever doomed.

The low rumbling quickened in pace and the sound soon became deafening. Even those above ground in Deepdwellers Gulch would be able to hear the terrifying sound. But it was not enough to be of any warning, as the ground started to shake. The few trees surrounding the town ripped their roots from the dry earth, as if in fear of what lay beneath it. Their brittle trunks fell over, branches shattering upon impact. Houses shook, some splintered and fell apart, though it was the centre of town that was the hardest hit. The brothel, one of the oldest establishments in town was soon reduced to nothing but a pile of wood. Being vampires, the whores did not respond well to the wooden splinters flying through the air, all of them soon becoming dust that blew down the main street on a sudden gust of wind to join the rest of the dust filled air. Screams filled the night, some of them in agony, most of them in fear, as a deep sense of impending death settled over the town almost immediately.

For those three within the mine, the air was soon sucked out of the tunnels as the earthen walls and ceilings collapsed, trapping them within.

On the outskirts of town, several miles from the brothel but close enough to feel the rumbling underfoot, an old man limped his way to a grimy window of his shack. Wiping the dusty pane, he peered out at the dark town, the screams on the air making him shiver. Beaded perspiration appeared on his top lip and he licked at it anxiously. He had read the old papers as a boy, his father being the son of the towns caretaker all those years ago. He knew that his father had dismissed the old parchments as hogwash, but the old man had always known that one day the prophecy would be fulfilled.

~”From beneath, it devours..”~he quoted, in a dry raspy voice, before he made the sign of a cross and blessed himself. Limping back towards his bedroom, he pulled out his trusty shotgun, polishing it with his sleeve, before he cocked it and placed it under his chin.

~Heaven help them…~ he rasped as a lone tear slipped out of his bloodshot eye. Closing his eyes, he pulled the trigger. *

[Sparrow Leinad]

Sparrow felt the eruption long before she could hear it. It was an odd sensation to try and describe. A kind of foreboding in the pit of her stomach, almost as if she was suddenly ravenous for a particular food she knew she’d never be able to get. It was bad enough that she lost concentration, sitting at the bar after a hard night of tricking stupid men into giving her their much earned money. Her powers were almost exhausted.

‘Sorry Patti I faded away for a second’

She said turning to face her friend, who was no longer there. She must have left a while ago, along with most of the other clients. The Girls strolled around the brother, but it was almost empty. How long had she been out of it? a solid hour at least, Sparrow whipped a tiny speck of drool out of the corner of her perfect mouth and straightened up, trying to smoothen out her dark hair. What must poor Pattilia think of me! Sparrow thought, how rude.

And that when Sparrow heard the rumbling, at first it came from directly under them, but then the noise surrounded them, as if the world itself was crumbling around their ears. Sparrow screamed loudly in fear and pulled her skirts up to run out the door, but the building was already beginning to crumble, the wood first gave a silent sigh of defeat and cracked in two, sending a shower of splintered wood in every direction. Sparrow covered her eyes, but she could feel the splintered drag across her exposed flesh, she could hear the screams of terror and pain from the girls around her. Vampires. They had no hope.

Luckily for Sparrow, she wasn’t allergic to wood. She was already shrinking into her clothes, she lifted off the ground, feeling it rumble and crack under her. She launched herself into the air, looking like a tiny wooden fairy now. She was hauntingly beautiful and dark. Sparrow flew through the air, avoiding falling debris, heading towards a shattered window. She was almost out when she heard something shift above her. A chunk of Iron that was used to keep an upstairs shutter open. Now that she was allergic too. It fell on top of Sparrow pinning her down as the world around her trembled and wept.

[dakkon]

Another survivor, a miner, was leaning over the wooden banister of the general store. His bloodshot eyes peered out into the night with a grizzled look that showed no fear. Even so, there was some trembling in his hardened voice as he craned his head down to look at the destitute man hunched on the bottom step up to the store. From behind him, in the well lit storefront, a bright hanging lantern threw scorching slants of light out. "What'd you do stranger, dig your way out from un'er a building? You look horrible" The miner's gravel voice didn't get more than a shrug from the man sitting below him. "Maybe you shoulda just stayed buried, everyone dies ya know."

Something like that, Kinde thought. Kinde fought through the ringing in his ear to remember how he had escaped the mines. He recalled, in his last moments of lucidity, Tamassa rounding a corner. He had raised his pistol, squeezed his finger around the trigger, shot at her just as the darkness fell on him. It had not been the swift darkness of an extinguished light. A living shadow had crawled over him, he had felt it tearing and gnawing at his ragged wounds. Strange as it was, those same wounds were gone now. The blood stains were still there in his ragged clothes to be sure, but beneath the rags his olive colored skin was unblemished. All except for his fingertips, scratched raw and dripping thick rivUlets of blood. That was from him digging himself out, when the mine collapsed.

"Everyone does die." Kinde stood up as he fastened his gun belt, when had he picked that up?, and tucked in his rusty grey pistol. "But then again, everyone gets to live for their piece too now don't they." More survivors were starting to pour past him into the general store, the only beacon of light left as far as Kinde could see.

"I'm getting out of this town," Kinde spoke to no one in particular as he searched the night with his now ghost white eyes. "Before I go, I'm gonna hit the bank. I have something waiting for me in the safe deposit. Anyone who wants to come with me, they might live." He added in a mutter under his breath, that if he saw that Madame again or the miner he might shoot them both dead on principle. That is, if they weren't already lying gone and buried under the rock.

[Blood and Roses]

Conrad was sitting down to dinner at the Sheriff's office when the tremors began. He smelled them coming; the aroma of his food, roasted chicken and pan-fried potatoes, was overpowered by a stench like the rotten, bloated gut of a titan that had split open to release the poison gasses trapped within. It wasn't likely to be noticed by the rest of the town, or at least the mortal population -- for Conrad, the scent was almost strong enough to gag on.

Meal forgotten, the black-clad sheriff quickly rose and moved to the open doorway. The lamplight within the office cast a large rectangle of light into the street, though Conrad's shadow filled that frame almost completely. The dusty street was nearly deserted, but for a coyote scrounging in a waste heap and a distant figure hurrying toward the whorehouse. The sheriff shook his head. Some men were desperate to throw their money away.

Then the first tremors began.

Conrad hurried back inside to grab his coat, though he left his hat on the stand in the adjoining bedroom. He rushed back out onto the long wooden porch that wrapped most of the building before leading on to connect with the buildings on either side of his. Down the steps, he rounded the banister. Stationed beside the banister, a forked pole stood upright from the dirt. At its top, situated between the bowed tines, an iron bell hung. Near the forked top, a rope ran through two holes bored through the copper pole and was knotted at one end to keep it from slipping out. At the other end of the rope, a hammer swung slowly. This, Conrad seized and set to, laying into the bell with it and putting up a racket that could wake that dead.

After a minute of furious hammering, a bleary-eyed shopkeeper stumbled out of his shop to one side of the sheriff, half-dressed and hair wild. He held a double-barreled shotgun broken over his forearm as he sleepily attempted to load shells into it. Conrad let up off the bell and shouted, "Otis! Get over here!" The shopkeep hurried to join the sheriff at the bell. "Otis, I need you to ring this bell for all its worth, and don't you stop until I tell you. There's gonna be trouble, a whole barrel of it." Conrad set off down the street at a trot, drawing his revolver as he went. "And don't you quit ringing that bell until you see the whole town out here!"

The shopkeep hesitantly set to sounding the bell as Conrad loped down the dark streets, stopping every block to fire a few rounds into the air, shouting "Wake! Wake up!"

The tremors intensified, and the air was filled with a horrible noise, louder than the tolling of the iron bell, like the Wyrm itself gnashing its teeth.

More shots into the air. "Wake up, you bastards, if you value your lives!"

The ground rebelled against the puny lifeforms upon it, against their meager structures and pathetic domiciles, bucking and dropping, and Conrad dropped into a crouch to keep from being thrown, one hand pressed flat against the earth. He watched as the soil moved in an earthen wave, sliding beneath the whorehouse and rending it asunder.

Conrad's mind shot back to the shadowy form hurrying toward the whorehouse before the tremors began. He swore through clenched teeth. If there were survivors within, they would certainly need help. He holstered his pistol and set off in a crouching scuttle toward the collapsing building. Anyone watching might have noted that the stance seemed a might too familiar for the tall sheriff, loping on all fours.

Conrad stood to his full hight before the the wreckage of Madame Tamassa's brothel. He'd only ever set foot in the place once, and didn't know the layout. A cloud of dust and wood filled the air around. He squinted, but the thick cloud and darkened sky made it impossible to see within. "Hello!" he called. "Hello! Is anyone alive in there!?" Well, he thought, alive as folks get around here...

[Pattilia Longfellow]

"I reckon we'a gettin' close...you sure you don' wan' me in'a fron'?" asked Pattilia in her bayou drawl, cowboy guns at the ready. She could smell gun powder as she and Madame carefully walked along the mineshaft towards an uncertain doom. The Madame had confidently taken the lead, but Patti sure didn't feel right, something hadn't added up yet in her mind. As they came around the corner, Patti saw the tunnel branch in two directions, but before she could react, there was a gunshot. The blast was magnified by the tunnel, deafening Patti for a moment before she realized what was going on, but the next moment the whole earth around them trembled and in a rush, came tumbling down...


...


The first thing Patti noticed as she came to was the ringing in her ears. She tried to adjust her eyes to the darkness, but there was too much of it...

"Madame?!" she called out, forcing herself to spit out the dirt in her mouth. "Tamassa?! You dere?"

Patti struck a match from her coat pocket. She couldn't find her helmet for some reason, her tangled mess of red hair spilling all over her face. No doubt she looked a right mess covered in dirt and dust. With the dim light, she realized she was on her back, and her left leg was pinned under a boulder. Apparently she was too dazed to notice the pain until she saw it first hand, but the moment she realized her leg was crushed, the flames of agony swept over her.

Trying her best not to panic, Patti moved the match around to try and see in the gloom. Aside from the boulder on her leg, she was under a support beam that hadn't completely collapsed, leaving just enough room for her and what seemed to be an opening to where she remembered last seeing Tamassa.

She looked back at her leg and frowned. "Well sheeet." A glint in the corner of her eye drew her attention, where she found one of her guns laying in the dirt by her side. It was starting to look like a half-decent option if the whole tunnel had collapsed. After all, there weren't any supplies down here, and she doubted if the Madame were alive she could force herself to go cannibal. Regardless of whatever doom befell the town above, hers was surely to arrive much sooner.

[Moridanu]

*Cat was in Paris when the first tremor rumbled. She had been walking along the River Seine, dazzled by the reflected light of the burning lamps in the smooth, still water. The night had been balmy, and she had giggled when a sudden wind had blown up to ruffle her long blonde hair that had hung in a loose braid down her back, a giggle that made her sound like a girl much younger than her nineteen years. He had looked down at her then, smiling that crooked smile that made her heart ache, and Cat had squeezed his hand in hers as she thought she could never be happier than she was at that time. Suddenly the ground beneath her feet rumbled, and Cat opened her eyes to look down at the worn pavement beside the river. Instead of the Parisian road however, she was now staring down at the timber floorboards that made up the entire first floor of her house. Sighing deeply, her emerald eyes turned back to the black album that was open on her lap. The single etching of her standing in front of the Eiffel Tower had brought the memories flooding back to her as though they had happened yesterday, and Cat sniffled while she quickly brushed aside some tears that had managed to leak out of the side of those brilliant green eyes.

Snapping the album shut, she rose from her rocking chair and crossed to the other side of the room. Reaching the bookcase, she slid the album back into its usual place, stumbling slightly as the ground rumbled again and caused the album to slide off the shelf to crash onto the floor. With wide eyes, Cat looked around the room as pictures banged against the walls, while a few fell to smash onto the floor below. Remembering what her Daddy had told her to do in case of an earthquake, Cat tightened her dark brown shawl around her shoulders as she hurried over to the door frame and stood directly underneath it. She felt the automatic urge to warn her loved ones to take cover, but realised with a lonely pang that there was nobody here to protect apart from herself. Hugging herself now, she stood under the doorway while the house shook all around her. Closing her eyes, Cat began to mumble a forgotten prayer from her days at Sunday School as she wondered how the other townsfolk were holding up.

Finally the house stopped shaking, and now the sounds of screams and the towns warning bell reached Cat’s ears. Electric green eyes flashed open as she forgot her own safety and ran on bare feet to the main door that would lead to the long corridor that separated the house from the store. Soon, she was racing through the store, quickly taking mental note of the damage to her goods before she flung open the door and stepped out onto the porch.

The main road of Deepdwellers Gulch was in chaos, with injured people roaming around, screaming and moaning. Lighting the main lamp on the porch, Cat pulled her shawl around her shoulders while her loose caramel tresses blew all around her in the wind. Mindful that she was only dressed in a thin cotton nightdress that covered her arms and legs, Cat realised that she would not have time to go and get dressed. These people needed her help. Racing back inside, she soon found the first aid kid she kept under the cash register and ran back out onto the porch.

An old timer that ran the local hardware store was stumbling up her stairs with a large gash above his right eye. Bustling over to him, she forced him down gently onto the top step as she began to tend to his wound. Soon other survivors saw the light swinging on the porch, a beacon in all the chaos, and they too began to make their way towards the General Store. Cat knew that her meagre first aid supplies wouldn’t tend to more than a few patients, and she fretted about what she would do while she wondered what had caused the earthquake. Looking around at the chaos of the main street, Cat wondered how the new Sheriff would handle the situation. She guessed that he was behind the town warning bell keening so quickly and prayed that he would stay away from the General Store. *

[Madame Tamassa]

*It all happened too quickly for Tamassa to get her bearings. One minute she was standing up right, walking through the tunnel with Patti right behind her, a smug smile on her face as she thought of her little present making its presence known within Mister Kindes gut, and the next minute she was flying through the air, deaf in one ear by a loud explosion of falling rubble and what smelled like gunpowder.

Finding herself lying in a crumpled heap in a small area that was completely blocked on both sides by fallen debris, Tamassa struggled to sit up right. The tunnel had been propped up with planks of wood, and as Tamassa looked down at her right shoulder she saw that one of these planks was now protruding out of her chest, just below her heart. ~That was close..~ she muttered through clenched teeth as she steeled herself to pull it out. A sudden wave of dizziness washed over then, and her arched brows knitted together in confusion. Madame Tamassa did not get dizzy. Ever. Glaring back down at the wooden plank sticking out from her chest, Tamassas eyes came to rest on the large silver spike that had originally been intended to keep the wooden plank in place. Now, only the head of the spike was visible, the rest of it was clearly buried in the wood. Enough of it was exposed however to be messing with her bloodstream, and Tamassa rolled her eyes in disgust. ~Fucking silver!~ she snarled as another wave of dizziness washed over her, followed by a sudden bout of nausea which caused her to hurl all over her beautiful clothes. Wrinkling her nose in disgust, Tamassa slammed the ground angrily beside her, causing more dirt and rocks to fall from the loose ceiling above her.

Faintly, as if from far away, Tamassa could hear Patti calling out for her. Feeling stupid, and uncharacteristically helpless, she rolled her eyes to the ceiling again as she yelled as loud as she could, the effort almost causing her to black out completely as the silvers poison crept through her veins. It was a well guarded secret that silver could also kill vampires. Of course it wasn’t as quick as a beheading or a stake through the heart. But, if left untreated and if the silver was not removed within a day or two, Tamassa would die a long, painful death. Her voice was choked up in agony as she yelled

~Yeah, I’m in here Patti. Get me the fuck out of here, eh?~

[Blood and Roses]

Another aftershock threw Conrad off-balance, and he pitched forward onto his hands and knees. The sound of shifting timbers within the wreckage was accompanied with a new plume of dust and dirt spraying into the air. The sheriff threw an arm up over his face, holding his breath and squinting harder into the wreckage. Visibility was low, and he saw nothing within.

Conrad sat back on his haunches, orienting himself toward the street he had come from, when the very barest of scents reached his nose. It was an all too familiar odor, the coppery smell of blood mingled with the sickly stench of fear.

It occurred to the sheriff that the tolling of the alarm bell had stopped. Lips peeled back from teeth in a feral grimace.

Conrad leaped up and hit the ground at a run. The scent was blowing to him from several streets away, and grew stronger with every step. He ignored the buildings that still stood beside the street, his warning mission forgotten, as he chased the scent down the lane. Cutting down a short covered alley, Conrad hurdled a pile of clay tiles that had torn through the hide cover as they departed their rightful places on an adjoining rooftop. There was a fairly bright light at the other end of the alley, and the sheriff's mind raced to recall what lay on the far side.

Town Square and The General Store, he recalled just before exiting the alley and skidding to a stop just short of falling over the side of the raised walkway. He stood staring across the square, where folks who'd survived so far were running, stumbling, or crawling toward the Store's lamp like moths drawn to a flame. There were already people gathered out front, some crying, some shouting, but most simply milling around in a knot of confused townsfolk.

Conrad hopped off the edge of the walk and set off at a jog. A young man, probably no more than a teen, was dragging himself along the ground, hauling his mangled leg behind him and crying out for help. The sheriff approached quickly, calling out to the youngster. He stopped to kneel beside the lad, speaking in a soothing voice while the other babbled around tears that the world had gone mad and destroyed his home. Conrad shushed him and took him by the arm, noting as he slung the appendage over his shoulders that the forearm was pocked with healed or healing fang marks.

With a grunt from Conrad and a pained scream from his charge, he hoisted the young man up onto his good leg. He quickly scanned around, then started toward the General Store. The boy groaned or whimpered at each step, but they slowly made their way. When they were within 20 yards of the stoop, a broad-waisted fellow that Conrad recognized as Adolfo the baker saw their approach. He tugged at the sleeve of his equally wide brother, Gieter, then pointed toward them and shouting something. The two brothers hustled over and took the injured man's weight from Conrad.

"How many are here?" queried the sheriff. Gieter shrugged his beefy shoulders, and Adolfo looked apologetic.

"Not a lot time for counting of heads," Adolfo grunted in his thick accent. "Some come, we help. Others come, we help others. Count not, in time for counting is come."

Conrad observed in the lamplight that Adolfo's white apron was spattered with blood, and Gieter was drenched in sweat. The two had been hard at work bringing in the wounded. Conrad reached out to clap each man on the shoulder as they carried their latest charge toward the Store. "You're good men. Remind me give you medals when the dust settles."

Turning his attention to the gathering throng, Conrad made a useless attempt at a head count. People ran hither an yon, or darted among family and friends as they sought news or answers as to what had happened. Frustrated, he turned and looked back toward the square. One thing was for sure, this crowd wasn't everyone. He gave one last glace at the Store, then went back out into the night to assist the survivors in reaching the siren glow of the lantern.

[Pattilia Longfellow]

The Madame's voice reached Patti's ears, and she sighed gratefully. She pulled against the boulder on her leg, and gritted her teeth. The match was almost done, so she tossed it over toward the opening in which she had heard Tamassa. She reached to her gun and stuffed it in her jacket should she ever need it.

"I'll be right there, Cher!" she called back. Now was no time to show weakness, even if to another woman. Her father had always been a strong-willed man, and had taught her much, especially to always help others in trouble.

She leaned forward, curling herself up into a ball and reaching to the boulder. She gave it a push, but it was too heavy to move... She looked around again in the waning light, and saw a plank of wood nearby. She stretched her body to reach it, almost swallowing her tongue as she held back a scream.

Plank in hand now, though, she pushed it against the side of the boulder, wedging it between that and the rocks around it. With a heave, she expected the boulder to roll off, but instead the rocks next to it gave way, allowing the boulder to roll in the opposite direction. The boulder settled with a loud smash, just barely off her leg, and she rolled herself sideways to free herself.

Rocks fell from above, and one hit her directly on the head, but she fought against unconsciousness, using her elbows to pull herself forward on her belly toward the ever-dimming match. In moments the blackness surrounded her, but she kept crawling, hoping the light had simply gone out and that she wasn't laying face down in the dirt, dreaming of crawling with a broken leg.

"Tamassa!" she cried out, the pain too much for her to hide it any more. She felt blood on her chin, and the dirt shuffling under her arms. If she was dreaming, it was lucid enough. After what felt like hours of crawling, she reached out a probing hand, and grasped at something that felt like fabric. Gripping it tightly, she pushed and pulled herself along. There was flesh under the fabric, but deathly cold. She could feel Tamassa's leg, and she feared the worst.

"God damnit, Tamassa, don't you be dead on me!" she growled, "Don't you already be dead!"