Chapter 2
"Again, here I sit, a night after the Lycan attack. The club is empty, as I have received notice that I may not be returning. The werewolves have informed me that there is great trouble brewing about. They did not say this directly, but if something calls for vampires and werewolves to work together, it must be important. It's been around two-thousand years since I was embraced, I've practically lost count, finding it a mortal habit of mine that I haven't been able to shake off. Anyway, in those two-thousand years I have never know a werewolf to come close to a vampire with out attacking it. Now they want to work together? I was at their mercy last night, and they let me live. As of now, I will heed their calling, and go with them. I just hope that it is the right choice . . ."
Angroliex paced back and forth in his upstairs lookout. The glass was shattered from the fight the night before, and he had not bothered to repair it. And the body of the dead fledgling still lay crumpled on the floor below.
Angroliex was a large man compared to the rest of the people he met, standing nearly six feet and eight inches tall. The year was 1999, and his hair was done in a fairly modern style: dreadlocks. His massive structure and his extremely long hair made him an intimidation figure.
As he was pacing, he noticed three people enter. He noticed that they were the same three Lycans that had entered his club the night before. Angroliex turned, and jumped out of the broken window, his hair flailing behind him, and landed on the floor below.
"We did not think you would heed the summons." One of the Lycans said.
"I almost did not." Angroliex answered. Earlier in the evening he had thought of fleeing. Then he started to think, and he realized that he had no quarrel with the werewolves. They were enemies by blood, but he had never had an ill encounter with one. "But I thought it better to go along with you."
"You made a wise choice, blood drinker." The second werewolf, the one he had talked to the night before, replied. "The Earth Mother always guides the wise ones in the right direction."
The third Lycan stayed silent, not even making eye contact with Angroliex.
"Shall we depart?" Angroliex asked.
"Very soon, we shall." The first Lycan said. Then extending his hand. "By the way, my name is Lance. The one you met last night is Vladmir, and the silent one is Charles."
"Strange," Angroliex said, shaking Lance's hand. "I always envisioned werewolves to have names such as 'stalker-in-the-night', or some shit like that."
Lance laughed. "You seem to get along with us pretty well. I wondered why the chieftains chose you, but I think I understand now. We have names such as that, but it's much easier to go with modern names, or at least names that humans would recognize and understand."
"Well, you might take modern names, but I've kept mine since I was embraced. My name is Angroliex."
"When were you infected?" Charles questioned, finally rising from his silence.
Angroliex disregarded the comment about being 'infected'. "I was embraced near the beginning of the human calendar, about two-thousand years ago."
"Really?" Vladmir asked. "That's very old, even for a vampire. Where, may I ask, were you embraced?"
"Hard for me to remember the exact place where, but it was somewhere in Gaul. I was part of a druid clan that was overrun by a clan of vampires." Angroliex answered.
"What druid clan was it?" Lance asked, seemingly very interested in Angroliex's background. "The Lycans were in charge of almost all of the druid clans in Gaul."
"The Druids of Caern' Nohkthal." Angroliex answered.
"Very interesting," Lance said, but did not finish out the statement. "Well, it's probably time to get leaving."
(Note from the Author: This chapter is not yet finished. Also, the werewolves seem a little bit to friendly to Angroliex. IF someone could offer a few suggestions, it would be greatly appreciated.)
"Again, here I sit, a night after the Lycan attack. The club is empty, as I have received notice that I may not be returning. The werewolves have informed me that there is great trouble brewing about. They did not say this directly, but if something calls for vampires and werewolves to work together, it must be important. It's been around two-thousand years since I was embraced, I've practically lost count, finding it a mortal habit of mine that I haven't been able to shake off. Anyway, in those two-thousand years I have never know a werewolf to come close to a vampire with out attacking it. Now they want to work together? I was at their mercy last night, and they let me live. As of now, I will heed their calling, and go with them. I just hope that it is the right choice . . ."
Angroliex paced back and forth in his upstairs lookout. The glass was shattered from the fight the night before, and he had not bothered to repair it. And the body of the dead fledgling still lay crumpled on the floor below.
Angroliex was a large man compared to the rest of the people he met, standing nearly six feet and eight inches tall. The year was 1999, and his hair was done in a fairly modern style: dreadlocks. His massive structure and his extremely long hair made him an intimidation figure.
As he was pacing, he noticed three people enter. He noticed that they were the same three Lycans that had entered his club the night before. Angroliex turned, and jumped out of the broken window, his hair flailing behind him, and landed on the floor below.
"We did not think you would heed the summons." One of the Lycans said.
"I almost did not." Angroliex answered. Earlier in the evening he had thought of fleeing. Then he started to think, and he realized that he had no quarrel with the werewolves. They were enemies by blood, but he had never had an ill encounter with one. "But I thought it better to go along with you."
"You made a wise choice, blood drinker." The second werewolf, the one he had talked to the night before, replied. "The Earth Mother always guides the wise ones in the right direction."
The third Lycan stayed silent, not even making eye contact with Angroliex.
"Shall we depart?" Angroliex asked.
"Very soon, we shall." The first Lycan said. Then extending his hand. "By the way, my name is Lance. The one you met last night is Vladmir, and the silent one is Charles."
"Strange," Angroliex said, shaking Lance's hand. "I always envisioned werewolves to have names such as 'stalker-in-the-night', or some shit like that."
Lance laughed. "You seem to get along with us pretty well. I wondered why the chieftains chose you, but I think I understand now. We have names such as that, but it's much easier to go with modern names, or at least names that humans would recognize and understand."
"Well, you might take modern names, but I've kept mine since I was embraced. My name is Angroliex."
"When were you infected?" Charles questioned, finally rising from his silence.
Angroliex disregarded the comment about being 'infected'. "I was embraced near the beginning of the human calendar, about two-thousand years ago."
"Really?" Vladmir asked. "That's very old, even for a vampire. Where, may I ask, were you embraced?"
"Hard for me to remember the exact place where, but it was somewhere in Gaul. I was part of a druid clan that was overrun by a clan of vampires." Angroliex answered.
"What druid clan was it?" Lance asked, seemingly very interested in Angroliex's background. "The Lycans were in charge of almost all of the druid clans in Gaul."
"The Druids of Caern' Nohkthal." Angroliex answered.
"Very interesting," Lance said, but did not finish out the statement. "Well, it's probably time to get leaving."
(Note from the Author: This chapter is not yet finished. Also, the werewolves seem a little bit to friendly to Angroliex. IF someone could offer a few suggestions, it would be greatly appreciated.)