The Brewing Storm
Chapter 50: Making a Splash
Previous Chapter Next ChapterRenoir killed his lights as soon as he got a clear look at the vampire; it could do him no good to give her a bright target. As his eyes adapted to the near-total darkness, he could see more than before. From what little he could discern from equine facial anatomy and expressions, she seemed nervous, eyes darting between her three enemies. Neither of them made a move to attack, but both she and Renoir remained tense, ready to strike. He guessed they were only separated by about thirty feet, which, under normal circumstances, would have given him enough time to close the distance before a mage could cast a spell of an archer could prime a shot.
But this vampire pony was a unicorn, and that meant she was a little more dangerous than the common thug or rogue mage; magic was inherent for them, and it wouldn't take nearly as much time the ready an adept-level fire spell. He needed to be smart about this, but that would be very difficult in these tight corridors. He could always rush her, but that would leave him open for counters or barriers. He decided on his course of action rather quickly. He locked eyes with the vampire as flames started dancing around his fist.
She fell on her haunches, hooves out in a defensive gesture. “We're after the same guy, I swear!” Renoir kept his magic primed as Luna and Springs stepped forward, likewise ready to end the her unlife. A dark blue barrier flashed into existence behind the vampire pony, ensuring she had no method of escape. “I'm on his trail, but he's cleared out.”
“Why should we believe you?” Luna asked in a hushed tone, bitterly staring at the undead, thinking only of victims of ages past. The cloaked mare back away from them, moving until her back was against the barrier. Her eyes darted between them, trying to asses who posed more of a threat at the moment.
“We just want to live, not kill,” She answered, her voice lightly shaking. Renoir likened her to a warrior who has seconds thoughts before rushing into danger, though it seemed her moment of clarity came a little too late. He'd seen this a thousand times or more; it always left the sod's allies defenseless and alone. “Mandrake is a bastard, alright? He killed Pathos out of anger, not thirst.”
“His drained body does nothing to support your words, vampiress.” Springs took a step towards her, only to have Renoir's arm block his path. The two males exchanged a look, and eldest shook his head; it was a bad idea to approach her. The unknown vampire shook her head defensively.
“He was mad at how many rules we have about feeding,” She said, giving Renoir all the evidence he needed. She was a fledgling, meaning she hadn't been a vampire for more than two years or so, judging by her relatively erratic behavior. Most vampire weren't quite as emotional or impulsive after they'd been given proper time to adjust to their powers. “So, he killed Pathos and ran.”
“So you're here because... ?” Renoir asked, rolling a hand. He didn't have the patience to deal with her any longer than he had to. If his hunch was correct, there was no need to waste the magicka required to incinerate her, not that he was lazy enough to look for a way out. Truthfully, if vampires didn't make a nuisance or threat of themselves, he didn't have a reason to kill them.
“I already told you I'm after him, too.” She stomped a hoof down, splashing in the filthy mire. She quickly realized her mistake, pulling it out just as swiftly, dragging up a long strand of sewage. She quickly looked at Renoir to get her her mind off the foul slurry. “We live off old blood bags; Mandrake's attack was the first in centuries.”
“The first, or just the first detected?” Renoir asked, relaxing his posture. He didn't think she was a killer, just some kid who had the misfortune of being infected and trying to make the best of it. While not hunting for revenge, she also wasn't falling into the same debauchery and hedonism most vampires fell into, especially those who gathered in large groups, which seemed to be what she meant. If there was a clan concentrated in Canterlot, he could get the princesses to wipe them out rather effortlessly; he could do next to nothing if they were spread around Equestria.
She opened her mouth to respond, and Renoir caught the flash of a silvery stud imbedded in her tongue. Piercings like those were common in High Rock amongst prostitutes, but were catching on with the upper classes. They were by no means an indicator of character or social standing in Equestria, to his knowledge, anyway. He motioned for Luna to drop the barrier, and received an incredulous look in response. It wasn't a good time to present anything but a united front. With some hesitation, it flickered and died.
“If you don't mind, we have hunting to do.”
@#@#@#@#@#@#
Reman Tullius lay awake, thinking about nothing in particular. Glade had her head on his chest, lazily draping a wing over his body as she slept. It amused him to no end that she had a slight snore, though he respectfully remained silent, deciding it would be a bad idea to wake her. As much as he would have liked to rolled out of bed and read, Glade's wing did a wonderful job of keeping him still. Said appendage squeezed him against her, showing just how strong a pegasus's wings really were. He certainly wasn't complaining.
As much as he would have liked to sleep, and he really would have, an uneasiness in his chest kept him awake, though he had nothing to blame it on, or at least nothing he was aware of. It was a sort of cold anxiety, nothing like pre-battle jitters or a black-bordered letter arriving at one's door. Reman knew those feelings, but this was worse, and far too alien; he never valued his life before the reunion, and he knew people died, even his kin. This fear was far bigger than himself, or even House Tullius, but it didn't apply to Cyrodiil or Equestria.
He closed his eyes and rested his head, lightly huffing at the odd emotion. Some rational part of his mind wanted him to push it down and let it die, but a more vocal part shouted for him to dissect the issue until he found his answer. His gut, however, just told him to go kill something to get his mind off whatever was bugging him. Glade shifted in her sleep, burying her snout into the crook of his neck, snorting. Keeping his eyes closed, he pulled his arm around her.
“Reman, go to sleep, now.”
@#@#@#@#@#@#
“That's it?” The vampire pony asked as the group walked past her. Renoir didn't even pause as he gave his reply.
“That's it.” She wasn't worth his time, and he doubted Mandrake could have fled to sewers if other vampires were after him. It may take all night, but he would find him, and kill him. Afterwords, he would return to the castle, attempt to get blind drunk, remember Fluttershy drank his Angelus Sanguinum, the sleep. Luckily, he had just done all of those, save the last, so he would have more time for rest. “Now run along.”
With that, the three hunters continued down the dark, dank sewer tunnel. The vampire had gone along her merry way, though she was probably following them, if Luna's gut instinct was anything to go by. She resisted the urge to call Renoir insane, hoping he would have something planned. Neutral or not, vampires were fundamentally dangerous; the damage they caused, even if some was unintentional, was too great to allow them to exist. Even if it was now apparent Celestia hadn't done too good of a job, Luna felt mopping up the remainder was feasible, perhaps even necessary, depending on their numbers.
The winged members of her Lunar Guard, the bat ponies, were the result of multi-generational interbreeding with vampires. Originally, they were the only ponies allowed to serve in the Lunar Guard due to their resistance to the curse, and their natural gifts made them beyond excellent aerial troops and guards when the sun went down. Luna could see how a dozen or so vampires could be allowed to live, perhaps as many as eighteen, but that was more of a stretch than anything. They would be rather easy to hide from the public, though she could always say it was to create a larger breeding pool for the bat ponies, which she had truthfully been led to believe was dwindling, perhaps down to a hoofful of generations until inbreeding really became an issue.
Bitter Springs, trying to remain calm, realized how daunting a task he had before him. The news of vampires hadn't really affected him when he first put the pieces together, but now that he'd been given time to settle a bit, it was starting to take root. For one, vampires had returned, or perhaps never left in the first place; neither of those possibilities was good. This was only made worse when he realized he was in a filthy sewer, actively hunting down a vampire who had killed two stallions not two hours ago.
“Springs, seriously, relax,” Renoir whispered, keeping his voice low to prevent it from echoing down the lengthy, winding corridors. The very last thing he needed was for someone to start freaking out and running; that was the absolute best way to die in a situation like this. The fact Celestia would also have his head for it was just another reason to keep the effeminate stallion alive. “I've done this plenty of times; you're going to be fine.”
The loud crashing ahead did nothing to reinforce his words, but it did give them a target. In an instant, they started running to the sound, ready to end this task and get some fresh air. The tunnel opened into a large chamber, and two ponies were at the far end of a long catwalk, locked in combat. On of them was a pegasus, and he seemed to have the upper hand on his earth pony enemy. Said flier picked up the larger stallion, using his wings to balance on his hind legs, and slammed him onto the steel grating, snapping a few suspension cables.
“That's the one,” Springs said, pointing to the pegasus. He was sure of it; he wouldn't be able to forget those eyes for as long as he lived. He looked up at the vampiric human, and gave a stern nod, handing the responsibility of slaying Mandrake to him. Renoir looked to Luna and smiled, pulling his mask from his hip. For a brief moment, his swirling eyes looked almost normal in the dim light, and he seemed to be decades younger.
“If I get out of sight for more than four hours, send a search party.” With that, he stormed to the dueling stallions. About one hundred feet separated them, and it didn't look as though he had the time to cross the distance, not with all the damage they were doing to the steel support cables. With a quick glance, he realized he couldn't see the chamber's bottom, not even with his augmented eyesight. Mandrake slammed the earth pony again, snapping even more cables. Renoir charged his Incinerate.
As he lifted the stallion once more, the human fired his spell, aiming for one of the remaining wires. After the brief moment, the metal faintly glowed, and only then did Mandrake realize he had a new challenger. The moment he slammed his enemy into the catwalk, every support on that half snapped, leaving the rusty metal to hold the three by itself. He barely had time to lift himself before Renoir tackled him to the ground, further speeding the walkway's collapse.
Sinking his fangs into his victim's neck, Renoir Belmont went about squeezing his wings to his sides, knowing just how powerful they could be. A large pipe emptied into the chasm, leaving him little doubt that they would hit water at some point, but he also recalled Canterlot being at the top of a mountain. He started feeding, or the best imitation one could make when drinking a vampire's blood. It was bitter, acrid, and all around disgusting; in truth, it did nothing to sate his thirst, but he wasn't making it painless for Mandrake.
“You idiot, this pit is bottomless!” He shouted as he bucked and writhed in Renoir's grasp. He planted a firm kick in his groin, making the man bite down harder, but releasing the death grip on his wings. He responded by slamming his fist into his stomach, and bracing his other limbs against various parts of his body. With an upward pull, he tore a sizable bite from Mandrake's neck, and threw him further down, against a large crystal that jutted from the wall. He was shaken by the impact, and visibly injured, but he was also at his strongest. Below, Renoir could barely make out the faintest of twinkles from a lantern, which meant they were about to hit the bottom of the so-called bottomless pit.
Grabbing Mandrake by his neck hole, he flipped over until his wings were against his chest. Renoir, knowing how acute an aerial predator's eyes had to be, allowed his prey the chance to see the flickering lantern, now much closer than before. Purely on instinct, Mandrake started flapping his wings in an attempt to slow down. Renoir griped the appendages at their bases, and kept up with his rapid movements pegasi, like birds, had hollow bones because they weighed less, making it easier to fly. It also made them easier to break.
At one-hundred-fifty feet in the air, Renoir Belmont did just that. He exerted as much force as he could, crushing the hollow bones just about the joints in Mandrake's back. They hadn't slowed to a stop by any means before then, but now they accelerated into the reservoir below. Three seconds later, they crashed with enough force to soak the small pump station just past the shoreline.
The force of the impact, combined with Renoir's weight, snapped Mandrake's spine in multiple places. Official cause of death was severe cranial trauma, resulting from an impact he had against a large rock just beneath the reservoir's surface.
Renoir Belmont suffered multiple broken tarsals and metatarsals, two broken tibias, a broken fibula, two severely fractured femurs, a broken radius and ulna, and a minor sprain in his left ankle.
The red-eyed unicorn who fished them out only received a splash of cold, filthy water.
Next Chapter: Leyawiin is not in Kvatch Estimated time remaining: 3 Hours, 17 Minutes