It was a cold, dark night. We came upon a midnight clear. But not to the sight of angels, or the cloven sky set for them to come forth. There stood the reaper in the clearing, his eyes red glare, staring into our souls.
The hooves slam upon the ground, the crescendo falls upon the ears of the horsemen. Seven riders in total, going towards their doom. In the distance, a mighty bolt of lightning flashes across the sky, arcing down and setting the trees aflame. It is not the result of any natural storm, but the powers of.....him.
With darkness shrouding their hearts they resolve themselves to their mission. Among them, a man almost to the year of thirty, a light breeze knocking the hat off his head and revealing the sandy blond hair beneath. It was coarse and matted from a long journey.
Soon a thick mist rose and surrounded them, obscuring their enemy. But also themselves. The young man looked to the old man with thick, long white hair in front of him. While the others showed fear, the old man showed a quiet confidence. This was not his first dance with death.
This so called vampyre, it was always rumored that normal weapons could potentially hurt them. Yet for some reason silver was the most effective. The other riders all had iron bullets, and at least a silver dagger of some sort. The young man grips the pistol strapped to his hip. The others always said that the object had to be a sharp silver object, and had to pierce the heart. He believes otherwise, as a normal shot could kill it if aimed correctly, why couldn't a silver round?
He had heard of this monstrosity taking several grievous wounds, including silver and iron. Yet it was strong enough to continue living.
But not tonight. Soon he would be close....soon he would end the source of misery for so many of its victims.
As the riders continued, the veil of the mist receded, and ahead of them were several carriages. All laid to ruin or smoldering.
The old man prepares his musket, ready to fire a deadly buckshot. The young man grips his pistol and long silver dagger, as the rest of the riders prepare themselves.
Ahead of the group a lone figure stands among the wreckage, surrounded by the bodies of men and women, and even a couple of children. All of them pale, having been drained by the foul devil before them.
Its black, tattered cloak covering its rumored deformities and scars of battles past. It slowly turns its head to face the slayers before it, the red eyes penetrating the darkness beneath its hood. Something glints in the moonlight just under its cloak.
The beast brought an old sword to a gunfight. But God knows even that may be too much for the slayers to handle. They all fire their weapons of iron, the foul one ahead of them dancing around, the sword arcing as it deflects the deadly projectiles. The vampyre itself stepping lightly as if on water, the bullets all missing.
The old man squints at the monster in front of him as if he knew it well. This was no ordinary vampyre, and would take extraordinary measures to kill it.
With a mighty roar two of the riders charge forward, but the horses whiny and stop, almost throwing a rider off. The horses cry in terror at the creature before them, twirling its sword in anticipation.
One of the slayers throws a silver spear which the creature catches, flinging it into the next rider. He cries out in pain and falls, writhing in his death throes. The monster before them makes short work of the next slayer, who hops of the sword and charges it. The vampyre surveys all of the men before it.
Without warning it sprints forward, its sword slicing through the legs of the horses. The young man and his mentor manage to get off their horses before this reaper comes. Barely dodging his blade. The other three riders charge, one nicking the beast before it impales him.
The vampyre is upon the next two men, its claws growing three times their original size, rending the two unfortunates into oblivion. A crack resounds as the old man's buckshot manages to skim their foe.
With a snarl it turns, the fires of hell in its eyes. Roaring mightily he rips his sword from the fallen slayer, arcing it over his head. The young man looks into the eyes of the beast, fear gripping every part of his body.
He can only watch as the creature brings its sword down.....
With a sharp yell his mentor, the old man, brings the musket up to stop the blade. Eye to eye with the vampyre it gives the old man a sinister grin. The two locked in a contest of strength which the old man would surely lose. It pushes the old man back, bringing its arm back to hack the head from his shoulders.
At this moment the young man draws his pistol, pointing it at the creatures chest. As he squeezes the iron trigger a loud crack is heard as smoke billows from the barrel. The sparks of the pistol burning little holes in his coat sleeve.
The vampyre clutches the wound on its chest, shrieking as it swings the blade still. Ripping into the old man's arm, he cries out and falls to his knee. The beast lurches forward, writhing wildly as it swings the blade again. Before the young man can move or draw his dagger, the silver sword slashes across his chest and stomach.
A hot pain shoots through his body, as he falls, mouth agape. He hits the ground hard, grunting as he finally sees the face of this reaper before him. An ugly twisted snarl, sharp bloody fangs still dripping with the life force of innocents, its leathery dark face contorted into pure hatred. A little smoke coming up from the silver round in its chest.
The glare of victory in its eyes is apparent. Then a splash of....water?
The creature screams as the holy water, like acid, sizzles and begins to burn its flesh. It flails as pain racks its body. It begins to run away, almost going in some weird half circle before disappearing into the night.
This is the last thing the young man sees before drifting off into oblivion...that damned thing able to live for another day....
The old man, the mentor, gingerly picks the young man up from the ground. Blood runs out the side of the younger's mouth. He does not have much time.
The old man didn't want to have to do this....but it's the only he can save his student, who has become like a son to him.
He would have to try it and hope the life saving ritual would work.......
