Underworld RPG story: House of the Tsar
((This was meant to be a simple introductory post for the Underworld RPG but I decided that I should start supplying people with my stories so I can learn more about writing via compliments and/or critism. I will supply more updates (More of the story) for those who want them depending how the RP goes... So, with that in mind, post you're honest opinion and I won't hold it against you 😛))
((So enough chatter; here it is...))
The dens had once again become a problem, with all the drifters and sickening cooperation between Lycan and Vampire, the houses were rapidly becoming powerless.
The Lycan population had soared as Death Dealers became few and far between, only those with passion and commitment remained; whether they died or disbanded. The majority of the remainder had become little more than mercenaries, holding the pride and commitment of others in rather low-regard.
House Tsar, a Russian-American hierarchy of ancient eastern-European Vampires had recently come to power, most notoriously for their proclaimed ‘displacement’ of Michael Corvin, or so it is believed. Their leader and the current monarch of his bloodline was a powerfully built man named Nicholai, born pureblooded and stood well over seven foot.
He had invested much of his families wealth on establishing house Tsar but whilst the Convent was in operation was hindered from striking success, though now that Viktor was dead and the Lycan ‘problem’ out of hand, his investments went not to waste. He first began by hiring Mercenary Death-Dealers to take out numerous figures in the Human government, establishing for himself and iron grip on both worlds.
Now many flocked to house Tsar, it’s numbers now almost in the thousands with two out of three of it’s members or ‘Honor Guards’ as Nicholai puts it, are Death-Dealers, extending their power to Para-military levels.
And now, as their fortune returns, they hired Kelarae who has agreed to fight for minimal wage if only to slaughter as many as she could, so far she had cut a bloody path through anything not of one of the Vampire houses, carving a name for herself as the Death-Dealer.
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A sizable line of large and rather disgusting-appearing men marched inharmoniously through the lower abandoned subways, as they neared their destination, the barks and howls of an obvious den grew louder with each step.
The man at their lead pulled aside a rusty iron sliding door, leading to the right and into the under-lit area beyond; well over hundreds of Human form Lycans stood around in various locations as if at some huge party while an even larger group surrounded a circle-pit, cheering and booing as two elder Lycans in full form met in battle-royale, barking and tearing large pieces off of each other.
At one of the far walls and overlooking the scene amongst the large pillar that supported the ceiling, a small figure leant back and sipped a drink from a half destroyed cup that was offered around. The rags of clothes that seemed stretched beyond recognition had been wrapped around the female in a rather seductive manner and revealed a lot of flesh in erotic places. She gazed intently at some of the Lycan couples that were seemingly tearing eachother’s lips off or at their necks, pretending to be Vampires whilst they engaged in various public acts of sexual activity, issuing random growls and human-voiced barks.
Nearly everyone in this little gathering were wearing clothing in a similar fashion to the observer; their bodies constantly shifting rendered it difficult to maintain a desent wardrobe so many of them just wore what they started off with, each item growing more and more shredded each transformation.
A trio of males haunted around, in search for members of the opposing sex and doing as they pleased, the woman against the wall thanked that they were at the opposing side of the pack. This was one of the largest and most unknown located dens in the under-city; they called it Pack Den Ragged and those where unfortunate to stumble across it never survived to speak of it and attempts to infiltrate by Vampires had proved almost completely unsuccessful; most having their throats torn out even before reaching the entrance.
All but one had accomplished this difficult task, a Death-Dealer of the highest caliber… and she was there now, somewhere amongst them.
The band of flirtatious Lycans had found their way over, attracted by her particularly ragged clothing and asked for a dance, with all of them.
The female shook her head politely without a word, the three men became rather insulted and began to insult her, they slowly closed in and surrounded her knowing that no one would even care…
“Ready for a little fun, Senorita?” the obvious leader said, moving in first.
His feet froze, pupils contracted as he was now close enough to smell past the cover-scent she wore, then felt his heart leap as she drew two high-tech machine pistols from seemingly nowhere.
“Do you?”
“VAMPI…” he screamed at the top of his lungs before his words were drowned out by the thunderous sound of the weapons, their huge clips supplying over a hundred rounds a piece as they catapulted each over nine hundred and fifty rounds per minute, first causing the heads of the trio to explode before carving an rendering path through the throng.
They moved as one; the entire pack making their rampant way to the exits. They were cut off, the three doors that led out burst open to reveal Vampire tactical squads who immediately began to open fire. The two elders still fought in the pit as they were concentrating too heavily on their battle and fueled by pure adrenaline.
The infiltrator dropped the sickle clips and slammed the hilts into a hidden utility pouch at her lower spine, clicking two fresh mags adeptly into place, each filled to the brim with liquid-silver hollowpoints before resuming to rip through the hated Lycans.
So far, well over thirty human-forms lay at her feet, twictching uncontrollably at the loss of their brains, being of course liquidized by the anti-Lycan munitions.
“I think this more than covers my quota for the next two months…” she said to the House Tsar Death-Dealer captain as she walked briskly past him in the aftermath, stripping the Lycan garb off of herself without thought that the other male Vampires took her in full lances before she adopted her favorite black fatigues from the captain and her long-sweeping black trench coat.