Situated at the foot of the mountain with a large natural port, this small fishing community has remained relatively unmolested throughout the last two hundred years of crusades and conflicts. Originally settled by deserters from Conrad's army in 1149, this community speaks a mix of French, Germany, and Italian as lost and wandering travelers have been gradually integrated. Primarily a fishing village, the lack of equipment and expertise keeps yields just above subsistence. The Abbey, looming just two miles further up the mountain, does moderate business trading meat, glass goods, and repairs and services through the smithy. Few of the town's members enter monastic life, as it is often reserved for nobles that have the unfortunate fate of being the second or later born male heir. The monastery's lay workers often lodge in The Town during their rest periods and many of the villagers make the trek for Sunday Mass.
There is a modest inn kept by a burly middle-aged man named Gerhard for the occasional travelers or knight passing through. The other dwellings are simple but sturdy. Several seems to be built from the remnants of old sea vessels. The population is typical of such a site, sporting roughly 120 men, women, and children. It appears that a large percent of the inhabitants are middle-aged or older.
While official under the auspices of both the Holy Roman Empire AND the city-state of Venice. Fortunately, neither seems interested in excersizing any control, though delegations come every few decades to meet at The Abbey to discuss matters of religious and temporal importance. Most often, young scholars travel through to make copies of old texts not found elsewhere.
Warm and welcoming in nature, The Town seems to be free of supernatural influence. In these dark times, such a safe harbor is difficult to find, and easy to exploit.
::Caked with dirt, smelling of the remnants of spoiled pigs blood, and his buffoonish face contorted into a predatory snarl, mario looks like the monster he is. seeing a bucket of water left out for pigs, he washes his face and hands before entering the inn. In stark contrast to his appearance, mario meekly speaks to the inkeeper, his feelings of inferiority exacerbated by the shadow-man and his lack of success with traveling.::
:: The large man looks over the bar and down upon the sad little spectacle below. He can't help but chuckle at your patheticness. He pours a drink and offers it without charge ::
"Boy. you look like shit warmed over. Name's Gerhard. I can put ya upstairs. Should go out back and take a wah though. Looks like you been livin underground, eh?
How did you come to find yourself in our little backwater?"
:: The tavern around you slowly fills as the men come in from a day of fishing and work, before heading off to their families. All eye you with curiousity ::
::Being niether inventive nor quick witted, mario dredges up the same story he told the priests::
"I... was attacked by robbers on my way out of venice, and then i got lost. i was on my way to see the abbey here, but it took me many days to find my way here... i have a little money that they didn't take. th-thank you for the drink..." ::mario drinks the bevarage and attempts to keep it down long enough to get outside and wash up further::
:: As you stumble out, a priest, unaware of you, bumps into you are just inside the doorway. He quickly appologizes but seems more interested in getting to the bar. He must have asked Gerhard about you, as the large man laughs loudly and shrugs ::
"Well of course he looks like that. He just came from that sewer up north they call Venice" ::The room erupts in laughter::
"But we'll make him feel at home here, right boys? Bettin the poor boy needs some work to get on his feet. I know ole Julian and Bella need a hand fixin up their barn after that fire. Maybe Flevotomos needs some help keepin those monks together. ::more laughter:: I bet Pero could sure use an evening watchman. Damned fool can't keep his sheep together. Hey Barone! You keep your dirty mits of Pero's sheep. What's the matta, wife not pleasin you no more? ::Everyone laughs and trades jibs with Barone, the sheep molester::
:: Recognizing the young man's sincerity, Gehard suppresses his laugh with an overdone fake cough, quickly taking a long swig of ale ::
"Sure sure son. I'll let him know you are interested. He's likely home with his shrew of a wife. Am I right boys? ::Some drunken murmurs confirm the shrewness of the wife::
:: The priest eyes you with some suspicion. It as though he has figured you out. Well if he has, at least that drink is apparently more of a threat. He is attacking that thing and it's friends with some fervor...
Gerhard offers you a key to one of the seven upstairs rooms. He lives downstairs in a room off from the kitchen. Exhausted and inebriated, many of the gentlemen begin leaving the establishment. The priest stays a while, chatting with Gerhard and telling stories of his youth, when he traveled and participated in something he called a “war of vespers across France and Italy. It seems it was through this that he found himself stranded here. Gerhard tales stories of other such crusaders. He claims the original village was founded by a group of disbanded knights from an early war in the holy land. Someone across the bar, a toothless old man wearing simple clothing, suggested that those knights were deserters, not victors. Gerhard simply shrugs. ::
“So we’re descendants of a bunch of fed up and pissed off soldiers, eh? Might explain why we’re now just a bunch of fed up and pissed off fishermen. Right, men??” ::The few men left raise their glasses and let out a collective, “Mmrahya”::
::mario begins to feel badly as the night wears on. at home he was the unwanted idot that people treated poorly. here these men seemed to treat him with sincerity and respect... and damn he was hungry... but that priest, he looks like an unpleasant man...::
'father, may I speak to you privately? I... should confess some things to you, what I had to do to those robbers that attacked me,..'
(reinforce w/dom if necessary, then make him sleep after that. assuming success and nothing bad happens, mario goes to talk to the shepherd early that morning when he is prepping for the day, before sunrise.)
:: The father begins to talk his way out of it, before receiving a stern look from Gerhard ::
"Father Philippe. Hear for poor boy's confession and offer some absolution. God may even forgive ye for your transgressions, ya damnable old drunk."
:: Fra. Philippe finishes off his last drink and wipes his mouth across his sleeve. Regarding you again, all previous caution seems to have been washed away by spirits. The priest puts his hand upon your shoulder, then leans all his weight against it. You half-carry the man outside and around the building, for privacy. He mumbles your name. Or maybe he said “Momma.” Either way, he seems ready to hear a confession. You lean in, fangs eager to puncture flesh. You have been told that your clan is more refined than the others. More judicious in feeding habits. Your Beast craves the blood of the servants of God. Is this out of resentment, you wonder. Or perhaps reverence? You think back to that bishop. The priest in the funny hat with all the jewelry. You drank too much then. Way more than that chubby bastard could safely give. You will have to remember to be more careful. There probably isn’t another shadow man here, but it’s not worth the risk. He might be watching…
You close in, eyeing his bulging, pulsing artery below his left ear. This almost sensual embrace feels somewhat unnatural, but oh so desirable. He doesn’t seem to mind. Is he asleep? All the better. You sink your teeth in and feel immediate relief as finally, after several days without, you once again feed on that precious blood. With some difficulty, you pry yourself free after several moments of feeding. It looks like he’s still alive. Is that pee? Oh God he peed himself. You slink off, looking around to make sure no one saw you. Dammit. You forgot to close the wound. You learned to do that soon after your first feeding. Cleaning up your business, presumably leaving the man to rest in his own urine for the night, you head off to bed.
Passing the bar, Gerhard only looks up from his chores to see that it is you. He wishes you a good night and returns to bed. It soon hits you. It seems that something is wrong. You stumble up the stairs, fishing your pockets for that key. It has been a while since you were drunk. Making your way in, you trip over a chair and lay flat on your face in the dark. You hear a knock at the open door behind you. Gerhard has brought you a small lamp. ::
“You sure are a lightweight son. I hope Philippe put some God into ya. Here ya go ::
:: He helps you up with one hand and shoves the lamp too close to your face. You feel as though you should panic. The Beast within you begins to surface, frightened by the flame. Normally, you would struggle, fighting to get away. Maybe it’s the alcohol, but it just does not seem like a big deal right now.
You manage to keep yourself awake, reflecting as deeply as you can on the last few days. You see light out the window as the townspeople begin to rise, ready for a new day. Feeling less disoriented, you rush down to meet with the shepherd. He is a balding man, but still young. He struggles with a fallen fencepost while you approach. He is startled by your presence.::
“Oh sweet Jesus! I didn’t see you. Oh my… I just lost a year of my life. You the new guy looking to watch these babies for me at night? It is the damnedest thing. I say there are wolves around. Or some other devil’s beast taking my flock at night. I can’t pay you much, but it’s easy work. Just come by around nightfall, when we all turn in. Just raise hell if you see something. Can’t afford to lose anymore. Well, see you tonight, uhm…what was your name?”
::his work done, mario walks back to the inn, his mind at peace finally, luxuriating in newfound stability and securtiy. It occurs to him (though not in so many words) that now that he has the power to do whatever he wishes, he's been too busy to do so, or to even care to do anything aside from simply survive. Then his mind wonders to what exactly this new life will be... and then he tries to blend into the lengthening shadows like the shadow man... then it occurs to him why his mama called him her idiot child as the first rays of sunlight crest the horizon. mario runs back to his room just in time to avoid all but a light sunburn and sleeps the peaceful sleep of the undead until sunset the next day, when he goes and reports for work.::
:: Awakening just after sunset, you rise quickly and head downstairs. You spot Gerhard working in the back, you shakes his head at you and chuckles. Odd for a man to sleep all day. You pass a group of children who seem very interested in you, until an old woman, leaning out of a window in a nearby home, scolds them and tells them to help a nearby man drag a boat ashore for repairs. This is a simple and pleasant town. Until now, it seems free of danger and deceit. Just hardworking peasants looking to raise their families, hardly changing over the years. You imagine that this town was the same as it is now a hundred years ago. What will it be like in another hundred years. Can it survive in this world of darkness?
The air is growing colder by the minute. Soon, winter will be in full swing. Pero sees you approaching and points to the herd, as though you would have been unsure where to look had he not done so. He tips his hat and pulls his supplies into a nearby shed. You notice there is no locking mechanism. These people here must trust each other. Back in your village, your uncle once stole a sack of your beets. He also deflowered your sister. What an asshole…
Pero informs you that he has already lost three sheep and believes that some predator or “highwayman” of some kind is taking them. Your uncle probably wouldn’t have made it this far out.
You find a small wooden stool to sit on and stare at the sheep for hours. Most of them sleep, though a few are pacing slowly along the fence. You begin giving them names to pass the time. You wonder if any of your kind have power over animals like you do people. Looking right into a set of some weepy, black eyes, you issue several commands to dominate the beast. It bleats at you and walks on.
The first signs of frost appear. You notice, after some introspection, that your breath is not visible. You will need to work on looking human if you are going to stick around. You spot the priest stumbling down the road back to his church. His routine is fairly constant. You wonder if you’ll become addicted to alcohol if you continue to feed from him.
Across the way, the cemetery looms. The simple headstones are increasingly obscured by a mist enveloping the valley The Town occupies. The night passes uneventful. You return to your room before sunrise. (Unless you have business, you repeat this process two more times).
On the third night, sometime after midnight, light flakes of snow fall. The sheep huddle together under a small awning along the west side of the fence. There is a dense haze in the air. As the hours pass, the snow falls more heavily. Your fingers stiffen, requiring you to send blood circulating through your body to remain mobile. To start pacing to remain unfrozen, keeping the sheep in your sight. The occasional bleat lets you know they are still over there, as their white blends with the blowing snow. You see something off in the distance, past the fence and near the cemetery. A ghost! ::
::mario, waking from nightdreams of getting the priest to accept a few sheep as members of the clergy, crosses himself and starts to run before realizing that he is a demon himself, with nothing (gulp) tofear from the restless dead... He approaches the ephemeral form, and summons the courage to speak to it.::
::You see what appears to be a man. Well, of course it is a man. Or is it? It is tall, but walking hunched over, nearly dragging its knuckles on the ground. The gait is unsteady, with awkward movements from side to side. The swing is hypnotic, as the silhouetted figure approaches in a macabre waltz. Snow continues to fall, further shrouding the creature, as it seems to blink in and out of this world. It surely sees you, even through the haze. It is slow, with its shuffling steps and its eerie bend. The wind howls in your ear and the sheep begin to push against the fence, looking to escape the approaching…thing. It becomes clearer as you draw nearer to each other. You cannot make out a face, but the head, sitting atop an unnaturally tall body, tilts to the side, as though it is examining you. It stops just a few yards away.
It is a man. But not of this world. The face. The jaw hangs grotesquely, resting upon its chest. Strips of flesh hold it to the face. Sharp, extended fangs are visible along rows of jagged teeth. Impassive and silent, the head turns slowly back to position, then lowers so that the eyes, eyes visible even through the storm, regard you with intensity.::
:: It regards you silently. You see a faint glint in it's eyes and a subtle red pulse course through it's body. It wears tattered clothing, ripped at the neck to allow for its size. It has no nostrils. At least, there is flesh where they should be. There is no sound but that of the howling wind and the poor, terrified sheep. If this is what has been taking the animals, surely the noise they are creating would have been noticed by someone. You grip your staff tightly, ready to use the powers of your blood to protect yourself. You search deep within yourself, looking to find that extra courage and strength to get you through this. This cannot end well. It isn't even speaking. Can it speak? The Curse flows strongly in your veins as you prepare to move at supernatural speeds. The creature rocks it's head back quickly, with the hanging jaw thudding against its chest. It throws one foot back and raises a fist to swing. You hear a voice, but not from the creature. The voice is disconnected and terrible. You sense an urgency and rage within it. Somewhere behind you? Or...in your head?? ::
"No go back! Pain. New master. Home! Away!!"
:: The creature lunges forward in a blur of motion, swinging it's right arm in a long arc. It's awkward, lumbering movements are gone. The swing is graceful, but you were ready. You leap back just in time. The fist nearly connects. You fail to retract the staff in time as the arm connects powerfully, nearly knocking the stick from your grasp. You quickly regain your footing and retaliate. You bring the staff in close and thrust it forward, toward the creature's gaping maw. Almost effortlessly, it cocks its head slightly to the left, avoiding the blow that would fall most mortal men. It is good. But you have sheep to protect...::
(Ok, I am not in a plce to roll more combat rolls. Give me an idea of how you want to proceed and when you do, we can. Both of you have some celerity actions to finish. Spend blood how you want and use whatever weapon.)
