Post by Amarante on Apr 11, 2008 9:35:36 GMT -5
Coven Leader: Craven Allendoe
Lead's Mate: Nami
Coven Name: Crimson Pentagram
Coven Territory: The coven is just visiting Lamdon for a while. They are always wondering. When they need to hunt they go up into the mountains which are a far distance from the town.
Meeting Place: They usually meet at the inn or the mountains on the outskirts of town.
Sample Post:
The sun burnt through the clouds, sending beams of light unto the earth. The light ricochets off the smooth hard surface of pale skin and light beams dance amongst the morning mist. A thin layer of dew still wets the grass.
Two figures wait in the shadows of the trees. One being tall, the other small. Though they stand as oppasites they could not be more alike. The matching golden hair, pale skin, and deep dark eyes; the outer appearance stands for naught when the true reason they stand waiting comes into the equation. The dark secret they share, that holds them together, is what makes them so identical.
Blood. It is the roots of all their problems. There own blood betrayed them. Now blood has become the centre of there worlds. Always on there minds, always tempting, and always the burning to taste. The thirst. The hunger.
Monsters. That is the words that runs across your mind. Disgusting, blood-lusting, murderous monsters. That is how the world see's their kind. That is how they see themselves. All the small acts ment to help the pain and guilt for what they have no control over, do not help. Proud to stand tall over the decades, but shamed that they can not withstand the need for blood.
A twig snaps in the distance. The vampires sensative hearing lets them know and there heads whip in the direction. The prey has arrived. With speed not known to man, they run to it, as silent as ghosts. Soon they surround the creature and it screams in fear. The bellow of an animal that knows its end has come. Quickly the taller one grabs hold of the neck and bites down. The smaller one follows suit.
Blood. It is all for blood.
Once they have drank the poor creature dry, who knew better then to put up a fight, they snap its neck. Just to be on the safe side. Its limp body falls to the ground, nothing but worthless flesh. The doe is dead, but more is needed to sustain. They need more blood. It is never enough.
More blood. More killing. Less of a soul.
Lead's Mate: Nami
Coven Name: Crimson Pentagram
Coven Territory: The coven is just visiting Lamdon for a while. They are always wondering. When they need to hunt they go up into the mountains which are a far distance from the town.
Meeting Place: They usually meet at the inn or the mountains on the outskirts of town.
Sample Post:
The sun burnt through the clouds, sending beams of light unto the earth. The light ricochets off the smooth hard surface of pale skin and light beams dance amongst the morning mist. A thin layer of dew still wets the grass.
Two figures wait in the shadows of the trees. One being tall, the other small. Though they stand as oppasites they could not be more alike. The matching golden hair, pale skin, and deep dark eyes; the outer appearance stands for naught when the true reason they stand waiting comes into the equation. The dark secret they share, that holds them together, is what makes them so identical.
Blood. It is the roots of all their problems. There own blood betrayed them. Now blood has become the centre of there worlds. Always on there minds, always tempting, and always the burning to taste. The thirst. The hunger.
Monsters. That is the words that runs across your mind. Disgusting, blood-lusting, murderous monsters. That is how the world see's their kind. That is how they see themselves. All the small acts ment to help the pain and guilt for what they have no control over, do not help. Proud to stand tall over the decades, but shamed that they can not withstand the need for blood.
A twig snaps in the distance. The vampires sensative hearing lets them know and there heads whip in the direction. The prey has arrived. With speed not known to man, they run to it, as silent as ghosts. Soon they surround the creature and it screams in fear. The bellow of an animal that knows its end has come. Quickly the taller one grabs hold of the neck and bites down. The smaller one follows suit.
Blood. It is all for blood.
Once they have drank the poor creature dry, who knew better then to put up a fight, they snap its neck. Just to be on the safe side. Its limp body falls to the ground, nothing but worthless flesh. The doe is dead, but more is needed to sustain. They need more blood. It is never enough.
More blood. More killing. Less of a soul.
