The drums roared, and the Devil came knocking

Sample sample sample

Imma roll for a drink

The member 'Atarah' has done the following action : Dice Rolls

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'Normal Dice' :

It had come to Atarah’s attention that there was a festival going on all throughout Fiore. And a festival meant it would be easy to increase her livestock with fresh blood, literally. Partying people always seemed less worried, less on guard. That mostly had to do with the quantities of alcohol being drunk, the safety of the herd but the herd pays no attention to the individual; they are concerned with their own enjoyment. Loud music, flashing lights, ecstatic dancing and the occasional dress up were a great cover for anything she wants to do. The Estrië had to choose a dress for the occasion and walked over to her magical mirror. It allowed her to see all the dresses she owned, displayed on her own body to see which one she could choose. She went through two dozen dresses and settled eventually for one. Boots and leggings, in one piece made from gleaming black latex. A crimson dress with hints of white and purple, made of many folds and layers. A long shawl, made of black fur, adorned her neck, and ended beyond her waist. Her hands were gloved with black and crimson. She stepped into her closet and closed the door. Walked out moments later in her dress. That magical closet was handy, changing out fits effortless. She could of course also have used a glamour, but the real deal was always more preferred by her. The sensation of the different fabrics and textures of her skin were a delight. Although, the sensation of a slight breeze over naked skin could never be beaten. She stared in the mirror again, not to select an outfit but wondering if she ought to use a glamour to change her appearance. She was still mostly unknown by the Rune Knights and her reputation had not yet reached the flock. Atarah was certain that she wouldn’t be bothered, perhaps tonight could increase her reputation instead. She opened a portal and walked through it, leaving her guards behind.  

Atarah strolled among the partying people in Crocus. They wore clothes she never really had seen before or at least had never noticed before this moment. The clothing was usually dark with shades of black and deep blues but on the other hand very colourful. So colourfully that it looked like rainbow of colours around her were glowing. It was all mesmerising, particularly with the smoke or fog that was generated by machines through which colourful lights danced. And among the different coloured smoke patches danced people raudy on the beat of drums and guitars. The music was loud, reverberating through her body. It was ecstatic in a way; it made her feel... alive. She slithered her way through the mob, her eyes darting around to gaze upon people around her. Not now, she thought to herself, she could dig her fangs into the tender flesh later. She found a bar and went to order a drink but found that she had no clue what all the names meant. She picked a random one.

The bartender, a young man in his twenties or perhaps early thirties. Did acrobatics with the bottles he pick for the drink, throwing them from one hand to the other and threw its content’s in the air. He used magic to create floating orbs of liquor. From the orbs came a tiny stream of liquid that moved to the glass and as the strands came closer, they started to dance around each other until it was mixed within the glass. The contents of the glass were now pink. The bartender looked Atarah in her eyes as he sprinkled, what looked like salt, into the glass. The flocks that hit the liquor instantly turned into cubes of ice while those that fell on the bar melted and quickly evaporated. Grabbed into a small linen sack and dropped some green herbs in the drink. “For madame,” said he with a smile.

The vampire took a sip. Closed her eyes and placed down the cup. Deeply inhaled and exhaled. That was delicious she thought. She took another sip, another gulp and soon the cup was empty. ”Another one,” said Atarah is she opened her eyes.

“Sure thing,” said the bartender with a grin and began with his magic again.

Atarah enjoyed her second cup when she noticed something, her porcelain skin was glowing blue. ”What is this?” Asked Atarah surprised.

“That is the drink you choose,” said the bartender has he grinned. The grinned disappeared quickly as Atarah wrapped her hand around his throat and dug her nails into the tender flesh.

”So you serve me a drink that ruins my skin!” shouted Atarah, her eyes blazed.

“It will fade… with time... The thirst will go away… with a lot of water,” squeaked the bartender meekly.

”I do not drink water,” Atarah dragged the bartender over bar and pressed his head and chest against the wooded boards. She then jammed her fangs in his neck and started to suck him dry. It was only then that people panicked, but not about a vampire feeding in public. Everyone had too much to drink or to distracted by other things to pay attention to the ordeal, but a certain group seemed to be trashing the place. A group called Pl4gue. They claimed this party was their idea and wished to ruin it for everyone else. On one hand Atarah wouldn’t care but she was angry now, because of her skin. And she could trash the place herself and these pl4gue guys were a delicious way to temper her anger. When she finished the body, her thirst had subsided, but she still glowed like a glowstick.

“Hey boomer, you should get out of here,” said a young girl who did not lived her eyes from the screen of her Ilac. She likely did not even notice the drained body on the counter. Her clothing suggested she was from pl4gue.

”Do you try to command me? You little shit,” Atarah’s eyes could spew fire.

“Whatever boomer,” those were her last words, but the last sound was where screams as fire erupted around her and within no time left a charred body behind.

Atarah walked away from the bar. Other members of Pl4gue rushed at her. Including five strange creatures. Akin to elementals, like the once made of fire but differently in case. They were neon pink and more fluid-like. They dripped some of their pink fluid on the ground, Atarah’s eyes followed the drops and saw how they hissed and evaporated, leaving black spots and a bad smell. That must be some kind of acid, thought the silver-haired vampire. She had to stay clear of those, it would be a shame if it disfigured her fysiek. Although she could regenerate her body, but she preferred to stay pristine. She decided to show her true form. Four horns grew from her head. Two straight up and two curled besides her head. Her tongue split and became like that of a snake. From her back came two leathery wings like those of dragons. Her arms and legs became covered in green scales and her fingers grew into long and sharp claws. A reptilian tale grew long and dragged around the ground. Now she was her true form, an Estrië. The acidic elementals closed in and Atarah snapped her fingers, in a sudden burst she got surrounded by dark mists. Her skin turned dark and translucid. She became a shadow; the attack of the elementals became less effective. Partly going through her, but she could still feel it a certain sensation of pain. She threw blades of shadows at the elementals, cutting straight through them. Three of the elementals, who took much of the brunt, perished. Their shapes collapsed, dripping, and spilling on the floor. The pink puddles hissed and roared; the stench was distasteful but Atarah did not payed it any heat. She swung her hand and from her nails came long and thin crimson needles, going straight through the to last remaining elementals. The last two met the same fate, burning itself into the tiles, filling the air with a grey smoke and awful stench. The shadows around Atarah faded away, her skin turned back to matter.

The grunts in their armour charged at Atarah but Atarah was quicker. She flapped with her wings, lurched forward, her tail sweeping. She landed with her clawed feet in the chest of a grunt, which she dug deep into him. She charged at him with such a force that he fell on his back. Atarah ripped the helmet off and dug her elongated fangs in his neck and started to munch and suck the life out of him.  One to help him but with one swoop of her tail she flung him against a wall. A second activated the speaker on its chest plate and this time it was Atarah who was send flying, but the action was in vain for the victim who had already perished. Atarah got and threw her arms up. From the ground rose fire that arched around her with the speed of a wildfire. The flames licked at everything in its path, setting a blaze all that was burnable. One of the grunts had to move back to avoid being burned to a crisp like their fallen brother. Another grunt blasted his speaker, extinguishing the flames. Atarah, who was now aware of their type of attack, braced herself and this time withstood the shock with ease. She held her arm forwards with her handpalm facing one of the enemies. An orb of crimson, shadow and fire formed and grew large until it stopped and shrank, the substance shook volatile as it became smaller. It flashed and was launched at one of the grunts. On impact it exploded into a raging fire, shards of solid blood pierced it armour and shadows wrapped around him. He screamed in anguish until its armour melted around him and he fell to the earth. The one she had beaten with her tail was back at his feet and tried to attack Atarah in the rear but Atarah’s senses were those of a cat and a bat. She rose her hand and could hear a scream of surprise followed by that off pain behind her. Spikes of solid blood had suddenly appeared; they had been launched from the ground and impaled the poor grunt.

Atarah walked too the grunt and removed the helmet, to her surprise it was woman. Her eyes were full of tears, and Atarah took a lick from the salty fluid with her forked tongue. Gave her a kiss on the lips and then with one slice opened up her throat. ”Don’t attack a vampire darling, unless you have a wooden stack,” grinned Atarah. The last one shouted something, but Atarah only heard one word: “bitch”. Atarah turned around and saw the grunt storming at her. She stretched out her arm and clenched her first, lowered her arm. The grunt stopped, shouted in pain as his body collapsed towards the ground. His armour busted open as a fountain of blood made its way out of the body; making it rain blood. Atarah looked up, the blood staining her porcelain skin with droplets of crimson blood and opened her mouth like a child in the rain or snow.

“Well my lady, you have defeated my henchmen, but you shall not defeat me,” said a dark figure, whose eyes glowed crimson. His large conical had was black but slowly turned red from the blood. Atarah looked at him and was not impressed, neither was she impressed when he unsheathed his neon pink blazing sword. ”Die,” whispered Atarah, her eyes glowed intensely. She rose her arms and the ground around her turned to flames and everything, except for the flames, turned dark. She moved her hands around her head in a circular motion, the fires around her turned into a vortex and grew higher and wider with every rotation. She threw her arms forwards, pointing at the swordsmen and the blazing vortex pathed itself towards the target. Burning it to ashes and cinders.

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