The Ultimate Vampire Resource and Directory

Now that the last sliver of sunlight had fallen below the tree line hulking shadows loomed and danced in the glow of the massive camp fires. The crackling of the timbers was a comfortingly familiar sound, yet even as the fires burned with a savage ferocity that would have scorched the skin from the bones they could not drown out the feasting of the figures hunched by the fire.



Torren stepped back from the large wooden stakes that served as the bars to the camps cages. Most of the bars were simply small trees with their limbs crudely removed and hammered into the soft earth. Many of them still had the majority of their bark although it was frayed and some had cruel looking barbs where the branches were snapped and torn from the post.



“Looks like they are just about done eating.” said Torren lowering himself down onto the dirt floor of the makeshift cage.

“We’ll wait for them to fall asleep and make a run for the border.” Said a youthful voice from the midst of the remaining prisoners.

“Don’t be a fool.” said Torren kicking out at the nearest stake.

“These posts must be driven down the full length of any man here, we aren’t going anywhere tonight.”



“Well then what do you suggest we do, sit here and wait for our turn in the pit, or at the fires.” said the same youthful voice, but now the bravado from before was being replaced by fear.



Torren looked at the assembled prisoners. Most of them wore the uniform of a conscripted pikeman but all of them showed evidence of the savage fighting that had lead them here. Scattered amongst the conscripts were a few men dressed in nothing more than dirty rags, obviously the last survivors of the village that had supplied the lumber for the massive camp fires and the majority of the feast. Torren was shaken from his thoughts by a tired and ragged voice seated in the furthest corner of the cage.



“Watch your tongue pup least you want it torn from your skull.”

Torren raised a hand to silence the youthful speaker before he could respond.

“We shall not be reduced to fighting amongst ourselves least we miss an opportunity to bring the fight to the enemy.”

Besides thought Torren, with a handful of pikeman and even fewer peasants we wouldn’t muster much of a fight for those brutes by the fire. The silence Torren had achieved with his raised hand was met with several patriotic grunts and a single, cold, derisive laugh. As a single entity the group turned it's attention towards the voice. What had at first appeared to them to be a pile of discarded furs unfolded itself from the floor and rose to it's feet.



“What childish talk, the talk of heroes and fools.” said the cold voice.

The voice was accompanied by two pin points of light rising up through the darkness until they stood taller than a man. The figure paced back and forth, still laughing disdainfully but always careful to avoid emerging from the shadowy corner. A putrid smell followed in the figures wake, a mix of stale sweat, blood and the filth which littered the floor of the cage. The young man was the first of the group to recover his nerve and he stepped forward and thrust out an arm, his finger pointed straight at the glowing eyes.



“You expect us to just sit and rot like cowards, to sit in our own putrid filth, reeking of our own waste like you, you…”

Just then the figure stepped out of the shadows. The glow from the camps fires moving slowly upwards, illuminating long, slender legs wrapped in leather and bound with straps of animal hide. The figures torso was similarly bound in leathers although in the centre of the figures chest was clearly visible the face of a giant silver wolf stitched in place with lengths of similar hide. The group stepped back as the figures face finally crossed the border of the shadows. The face was slender and the figure wore it's hair tied back and held in place with small animal bones.



The bones entwined in the creatures hair glowed dully in the low light, however it was not those, or the figures matted hair, or it's blood splattered clothing that had the assembled men of the empire hypnotized into silence. It was the glimpse of the figures ears, ears who’s pointed tips rose above the small bone tied in the figures knotted hair.

“Elf” said the youth, the word died on his lips, as he lowered his arm slowly, fingers curled into a trembling fist.



The Elf’s eyes narrowed as his face twisted into a grin that was unnaturally wide.

“Yes, Elf.” Said the thing wrapped in it’s foul leathers.

“Dark Elf, to be more precise child. Druchii to be even more precise” Said the Elf, it’s stench enveloping the youth as it leaned towards him.

“Druchii Prisoner to be yet more precise.” Said Torren as he stepped from the midst of the crowd, placing a hand on the youths shoulder and moving him back behind himself.



The Elf stepped back from Torren and rose to its full height, looking down at Torren with the full force of its Elvish superiority.

“Yes, a prisoner, same as you.” Said the Elf, as he moved back into his shadowy corner.

“What are you doing here Elf?” Asked Torren, standing his ground in front of the putrid shadow.

The Elf slid gracefully to the floor, before answering the question, folding in on itself until it once again resembled a pile of rotten animal furs.

“Why the same as you Imperial, I am awaiting my turn.”



Torren resisted the urge to kick the mouldering pile as he fought to keep his voice level. If the Elf had been here before them it had dire consequences and he wouldn’t gain any information from the Elf if he were to make it more an enemy than history had already decided.



“Waiting for what Elf, are you expecting re-enforcements? What were you doing this deep into the Empire to end up here?” Asked Torren.

Torren’s questions were answered with a short sharp snort and a fresh wave of putrid breath.

“Oh just wait, you’ll figure it out soon enough.” said the pile of furs from the corner of the cage.