Bites at Dawn...

[Korgin]

A howl filled the night air as the wagon train made it's way along the dirt covered ground of the North American continent. At present the land was unnamed, and for the most part unclaimed, but would eventually become known as Arizona. Upon hearing hte howls of the night animal life the wagon drivers clucked their tongues, encouraging the animals onward at a quicker pace. In the faint distance they could see the glint of a several camp fires. using that as a beacon the small wagon train made it's way towards the people.

As they drew closer the sounds of revelry, music and laughter filled the air. Taking heart in the apparent feeling of welcome the wagon train leader stepped down from his seat and made his way towards the fire. The man was not large, or well built, lean, his skin a deep brown from riding day and night throughout the frontier under the blistering sun. His clothes bore the same evidence of grime and sense of passage as his appearance, dirty, dust covered but servicible.

As the wagoneer stepped into the light he was greeted not by silence and stares, indeed it seemed as if no one even aknowledged his presence, allowing the man time to take in his companions for the evening. The music was of a kind he had not heard before, with flutes, and small mettle disks clapping against eachother, drums beating keeping a steady tempo. The people gathered around the fire, either eating, drinking, or just laughing and talking were differant as well. Their language carried a strange exotic accent, one that sent a small shiver down his spine. For the most part, the people there were pale, even by fire's light, with dark hair. Their clothes were brightly colored, carrying on the feeling of festiveness and easy carefree lives for the men. For the women, their clothes were just as lightly colored, but diaphanous, bordering on transluscent to give a teasing hint of the flesh hidden from view.

As all this was taken in, he was all but unaware of the man approaching him from the shadows. Like the others, he was dresed in bright clothes, a light yellow shirt, red vest with gold trim and designs sewn into it, brown pants that had some of the curious little metal disks that tinkled as he walked, feet bare in the dirt floor. Dark hair was cropped short, green eyes studying the wagonner briefly before he smiled broadly and offered his hand to the man. "Welcome to our camp and fire, my name is Dimitri, I am the Ataman...chieftan. You and your family are welcome here, come, join our Abiav...we celebrate, my daughter is to be married tomorrow."

A little wary of the man, the wagoneer smiles none the less, the offer of warmth and companionship is one he can not pass up. "It is a pleasure to meet you Dimitri, my name is Warner..." Turning he heads back tot he wagon train, spreading the word. The settlers slowly join the wagon train after a little bit of discussion, getting the same reaction Warner did, smiles, and offers of food and drink. Throughout the night the open strangers would dance, and relax with the Americans, making them welcome.

What was noticed, but tolerated with indulgant if somewhat strained smiles by the strangers, and out right amusement and disbelief by the wagoneers, was the gradual leading off of wagoneers by some of the Roma, as they called themselves apparently for the night. When a rather beautiful young woman accosted Warner Dimitri stepped in and spoke rapidly to her after pulling her aside, his tone angry. After a few more minutes the woman stormed off, Dimitri approaching him. "You will have to forgive my Bori..bokh is...strong with amaro amriya familia..." His green eyes seem sorrowful for a moment as he stares at the fire. The sky is beginning to grow light in the distance, the Roma quickly taking shelter in their colorful wagons. Warner scratches his head curiously at the language.

"...Boree...boch..." He trails off unable to sound out what the man said, drawing a small laugh from Dimitri. "Sorry, i forget that you are a Gadjo..not Roma...i asked you to forgive my wife's daughter...she suffers from a hunger that our family shares..." This only draws another confused look from Warner, Dimitri beckons the man into his own wagon. As they head in, Warner sees more of the Roma come out of the other wagons, not the same ones as last night, though they were of the same appearance, it was hard to tell for sure. As Warner settled on a chair, he felt the wagon give a start and start moving.

"What is going on here Dimitri!" The Romani man gives a small shake of his head. Warner..i am sorry you came across our band last night, i truly am, our people are...cursed.." Trying for the door, Warner finds it bolted shut..from the outside, pounding on it gets no responce. "What is the meaning of this? i demand you let us go!" Warner reaches behind himself and produces his flintlock pistol, aiming it at the man.

"That won't work Warner..wish it would.." His words are cut off by a deafaning bang and the fill of smoke, Dimitri landing against the side of the wagon, a hole in his chest.After a moment, the man stands up again, eyeing the blood stained shirt and scowling. "You have ruined one of my favorite shirts Warner.." He is cut off as the dumbfounded man pulls the trigger again and again with the same result, Dimitri stumbling back, but not falling over for long, or dieing.

"What in god's name are you?" The gun clatters from nerveless fingers onto the ground as Dimtri approaches the now terrified man. "I am sorry Warner...our family is cursed.." The whimpering man feels a prick on his neck..bliss..then nothing. Several minutes later, Dimitri pulls back from the man, dropping the corpse to the wooden floor, stripping out of the now ruined shirt and making his way to the bed, closing his eyes a dreamless sleep overtaking him, the wooden enclosed wagon shielding him from the sun's harmful rays.


Miles away a few nights later in the burgeoning town of Desire talk is abuzz of a wagon train ambushed by something...some say savages...others say ex soldiers, or the Mexican military. The wagons were burned to the ground, bodies strewn among the smoldering ruins. The talk however, is that some of the people there were found with not a mark on them, other than small pin prick marks on the neck, or wrist. Others were found with bullet wounds, or arrows or axe wounds in the corpses, leading to all kinds of wild stories.

[Leila Darkmoon]

((I hope this post is okay Zimako. If theres any changes I need to make just let me know and it shall be done post haste. ))





~ Liandre:

*Liandre heard these stories with a twinkle in her dark eyes and a sly smile on her dark lips. As the settlers arrived in the droves to taste the wares of her establishment, Liandre listened from the shadows as she refilled their tankards and arranged their “dates.” Some men bragged that they themselves had come across such fiends, but had of course been too strong for these beasts to overcome THEM in such a manner. Liandre only smiled and batted her thick lashes as she nodded in mock agreement, saying nothing. She knew that some of these men would meet a similar fate tonight but unlike her brethren in the hills, she knew how to keep things orderly. Secret.

Liandres’ dark grey eyes were haunted with hundreds of secrets, some said it was a source of her great beauty. She knew that the local law man preferred young blondes, despite the fact that his wife was a middle aged balding brunette. She kept this fact secret of course, as well as the fact that the good doctor came at least once a week to smoke his strange pipe in the back room and have his blood slowly drained by two particularly exotic ladies that Liandre was fortunate enough to have on staff. The long twisted, dark hallways of her establishment also kept their secrets, as to did the closed doors. Yes, Liandre could keep secrets. It was how she had managed to stay in business for so long in such a booming town. Her girls feasted, and they enjoyed their kills, though they knew their place. They knew when and where they could strike without attracting attention. Their chosen victims were usually drifters that no one would notice had suddenly disappeared. The whisper of Gold in the nearby hills had brought forth this steady drove of settlers, all with that dream of striking it rich. Liandres’ smile widened as she realised that it was in fact her ladies who had “struck it rich” with their steady incoming supply of fresh flesh.

Although she had her choice of victims, any man who crossed her threshold in fact, Liandre preferred to hunt for her kills. She had never been one to have her lot handed to her in life, if anything she had had to struggle for everything she had had, so the thought of being handed her meal on a silver platter caused her appetite to fade.

The wild terrain around her had been her playground growing up with her tribe, and until the settlers had come and driven them into the hills Liandre had enjoyed living with nature. Her mother had been the daughter of the tribes Medicine Man and in turn was blessed with her own version of the sight, one she had passed on to her own daughter. Liandre had been just about to begin her lessons with her mother on that fateful day when the army came. As the memories of that day filled her senses, she busied herself with filling some more tankards with a dark, heady brew. The stories of the savagery out in the hills continued to entice her ears and she crinked her neck in anticipation of the hunt ahead. *

[Korgin]

Runs-with-the-shadows stared down at the small burgeoning town from the back of his mustang. Brown eyes narrowed in hatred for both the white people invading his home, killing his people's food and way of life as well as the undead they brought with them. It was obvious they were there, as well as wandering the plains themselves with the recent actions.

Several of his people had preached war, and he was one who listened. However, whereas his brethren brought war to the pale skins, his own war he brought was to the undead.

He would wait until it was well into the afternoon before he led his band of followers down towards Desire with a thundering of hooves. The Arapaho people rode their horses towards the town with yips and cries, guns stolen from both settlers as well as North American cavalry were used with abandon. It only took a few shots before people went screaming and running for cover.

People tried to fight back, but most were killed where they stood, by bullets, arrows, or ridden down. Runs-with-the-shadows lost people of his own as well, his band of twenty dropping slowly but surely. His fellow garou were not among the fallen, not that it would matter once they left. In the meantime, those not fighting the americans took torches to every building they could as they rode through the town, throwing the flaming brands through windows.

Wheeling for a second pass, those who survived, a little less than half grabbed the horses, Arapaho riders tied to them so they would not fall off, and quickly rode yipping and crying out towards the plains, gunfire, screams, chaos and death at their back.

It wasn't his first such raid on an american settlement, and as far as Runs-with-the-shadows was concerned, it wouldn't be his last.

[Moridanu]

(( Liandre: ))


*Candellight flickered against her otherwise shadowed skin, obsidian butterflies taking flight upon her alabaster flesh. Her long dark hair fell in silken waves of pure ebony down her back and swung across the tops of her bare breasts as she turned to look out the window. Her “john” was sprawled over the bed with a drunken expression seemingly frozen upon his doughy face, and although he struggled to reach out for her as she moved away, Liandre ignored his pleas and stalked to the window.

She felt him before she saw him. And although it was the sound of the horses hooves thundering down from the hills that told her a raid was imminent, it was the long forgotten ache in her cold dead heart that told her Runs – with – the shadows was within reach. She stared out into the night sky, the full moon above illuminating her naked flesh with the glow of the undead and in her minds eye, she saw him – strong and tall, with his long dark hair streaming behind him as he rode his horse down the hill to the sleeping town below. Her heat ached again at the sight of him, a feeling that both surprised and revolted her at the same time, as the vision shimmered in front her before disappearing altogether. Still, the sound of thundering hooves could not be ignored, it had in fact grown steadily louder. Within moments the cause of the sound was evident as a large tribe of Arapaho tore down the hill, cutting down and shooting anyone in their path. Although the bloodshed was impressive and a painfully erotic form of temptation, Liandre could not tear her gaze away from Runs – with – the – shadows. In the few minutes that he terrorised the town, her head was filled with images and memories of a childhood spent growing up with their handsome man she had grown to love.

Soon though, he was gone; his tribe of bandits leaving the town bruised, bleeding and burning in their wake. Liandre stood where she was for a few more minutes, watching the town folk tend to the injured and trying to extinguish the seemingly neverending flames that raged on many a building in the township. As the fires burned, her memories seemed to come to her on tear stained ashes, and she angrily tried to shake off the sudden feelings of longing and loneliness that clung to her with a cold, tight embrace. Finally, she turned back to face her “john”.

He had told her name was in fact “Steve”, and although his friends had been calling him Carl all night, she was willing to call him any name he so chose. It made no difference to her what his name was. A dead man was a dead man no matter what his mother might have called him. Now Steve was trying to prop himself up with his elbows as he struggled to sit up and see what was the cause of the noise outside. The fact that he was still capable of even the smallest of movements after having nearly all of his blood drained from him, excited Liandre as she considered her next move a bit more carefully. .. oh the possibilities!

As Liandre walked over to him slowly, she swayed her hips slightly, almost stalking her pray as it were. A low, lazy grin dripped from dark lips as all of thoughts of Runs – with – the – shadows fell from her mind completely as she sat down on the edge of the bed. With one firm hand she pushed him back down on the bed and resumed her earlier position. As her fangs pierced his flesh with ease, she closed her eyes in an attempt at erasing all thoughts of Runs – with – the – shadows from her mind. If was of course an attempt that would prove most futile. *