Post by kgbwriter on Nov 25, 2008 0:49:28 GMT -5
.They say no one comes here anymore, well, it was mostly true until Dane showed up. True, the houses were crap, there was nothing nearby, no animals even bothered coming around to the dead area of Sunset Boulevard. That just made it absolutely perfect as the home of a single Werewolf, assuming he took proper precautions.
. Of all the houses strewn about the night and clustered with dead or fallen trees not one wasn't obviously demolished. However, exactly one was Dane's home. It was the largest and most decrepit one at the end of the road, it still had a roof only barely. It looked like the kind of huge gothic mansion a Vampire might settle down in, the simple thought of that made Dane shiver and his blood boil violently.
. Standing there idly Dane stared at the building for a long time. Trying to pierce it with his sapphire eyes. Always he had felt a little eerie about the place and initially he had refused to sleep once inside it. That was all gone now, the silly superstitions of a young man. Now it was just as much home as it was a haunted and utterly destroyed house. The banister above the door had fallen off completely and of the six pairs of shutters on the front only one was not totally destroyed. The windows were mostly broken and covered in grime and the roof sagged and was covered in holes. Maybe it was home... but it was also a death trap.
. The Werewolf eyed himself, filthy blood-stained white shirt. Torn black pants and shoeless feet riddled with scrapes and scars. Grime and terrible smells latched to every inch of his skin like sticky tar. Dane began to wonder how he lived with himself and his own heightened senses of smell. Every strand of his hair seemed comparable to an army of pigs in filth, it had grown far beyond his shoulders as well.
. An encounter with Evanglyyn the Vampire taught him one thing, that he was indeed turning into a beast. Not just mentally, he couldn't stop that, but at least he could turn into a beast that kept himself well-groomed. Which explained why he bothered to come back to this dump. It was the one place he felt safe enough to bathe and call home. Mostly because no one suspected anyone still lived here. Much less that Dane had a residence set up in the cellars of one of the houses.
. Opening the door and tossing it away as it came off the hinges Dane made his way into the kitchen and quickly found the entrance to the cellar, it was well hidden by grime and debris. The debris itself was too heavy for a human to lift, that in itself was a bit of a deterrent for attention. Anyone following just his smell would assume that he walked down the road and then walked away after noticing there was nothing to steal.
. The Werewolf took quiet steps down the stairs and then tore a splinter out of his toe as he reached high above his head and yanked on a pullcord. Instantly a generator hummed quietly to life and the light illuminated the living quarters of Dane Hart. The sight was something almost terrifying. Nothing was abnormal, washing quarters in the corner, a closet filled with nice clothes and a few spare weapons, and the fact that every single wall and surface had a picture of Alexia as a little girl.
. Dane never had very many pictures of his sister back home, he was forced to copy the few he had to get such a bountiful number as the one that covered the concrete walls, outlined the tiny piece of shit television and the green moth-eaten recliner--Still Dane had no idea how the bugs always managed to get in. The Werewolf pretended to ignore all the painful images as he fetched a nice dress shirt from the closet as well as slacks and undergarments. The sooner he was clean and able to leave the better.
. Of all the houses strewn about the night and clustered with dead or fallen trees not one wasn't obviously demolished. However, exactly one was Dane's home. It was the largest and most decrepit one at the end of the road, it still had a roof only barely. It looked like the kind of huge gothic mansion a Vampire might settle down in, the simple thought of that made Dane shiver and his blood boil violently.
. Standing there idly Dane stared at the building for a long time. Trying to pierce it with his sapphire eyes. Always he had felt a little eerie about the place and initially he had refused to sleep once inside it. That was all gone now, the silly superstitions of a young man. Now it was just as much home as it was a haunted and utterly destroyed house. The banister above the door had fallen off completely and of the six pairs of shutters on the front only one was not totally destroyed. The windows were mostly broken and covered in grime and the roof sagged and was covered in holes. Maybe it was home... but it was also a death trap.
. The Werewolf eyed himself, filthy blood-stained white shirt. Torn black pants and shoeless feet riddled with scrapes and scars. Grime and terrible smells latched to every inch of his skin like sticky tar. Dane began to wonder how he lived with himself and his own heightened senses of smell. Every strand of his hair seemed comparable to an army of pigs in filth, it had grown far beyond his shoulders as well.
. An encounter with Evanglyyn the Vampire taught him one thing, that he was indeed turning into a beast. Not just mentally, he couldn't stop that, but at least he could turn into a beast that kept himself well-groomed. Which explained why he bothered to come back to this dump. It was the one place he felt safe enough to bathe and call home. Mostly because no one suspected anyone still lived here. Much less that Dane had a residence set up in the cellars of one of the houses.
. Opening the door and tossing it away as it came off the hinges Dane made his way into the kitchen and quickly found the entrance to the cellar, it was well hidden by grime and debris. The debris itself was too heavy for a human to lift, that in itself was a bit of a deterrent for attention. Anyone following just his smell would assume that he walked down the road and then walked away after noticing there was nothing to steal.
. The Werewolf took quiet steps down the stairs and then tore a splinter out of his toe as he reached high above his head and yanked on a pullcord. Instantly a generator hummed quietly to life and the light illuminated the living quarters of Dane Hart. The sight was something almost terrifying. Nothing was abnormal, washing quarters in the corner, a closet filled with nice clothes and a few spare weapons, and the fact that every single wall and surface had a picture of Alexia as a little girl.
. Dane never had very many pictures of his sister back home, he was forced to copy the few he had to get such a bountiful number as the one that covered the concrete walls, outlined the tiny piece of shit television and the green moth-eaten recliner--Still Dane had no idea how the bugs always managed to get in. The Werewolf pretended to ignore all the painful images as he fetched a nice dress shirt from the closet as well as slacks and undergarments. The sooner he was clean and able to leave the better.