Rum.
Rum.
Rum.
Rum.
Darren was sick of the smell after the first barrel the Cubs devoured, let alone the third. He attempted to sample the putrid dark liquid, choking it down as tears streamed from his eyes.
"You starting to feel buzzed, Wester?" Larten asked, watching as his brother tripped over his own feet and stumble forwards into the tavern's more secluded booth. They were going to drink up, hit the brothels then either return to the Inn or find a women and spend the day with her. An ideal life for a young Bachelor, Darren thought.
"Not yet, brother." Wester said, though there was an obvious rosy red to his cheeks, handing Larten and Darren their pints before making a start on his. "So where you from, Darren? Your name is slightly queer and I can't guess your accent."
"From –Hick!" Darren gasped, covering his mouth with a curse -Great, drunk on a mission-, "Eh, from England."
"Oh?" Larten asked, lifting an eyebrow and fixing Darren with a strange expression. "I am a Londoner myself. Where in England do you stem from?"
"Eh, the North," Darren nodded, hurriedly taking a drink of whatever putrid concoction Wester had bought the three. It wasn't safe to name names. He had enjoyed Geography at school and so knew hundreds of different places but he failed to know how old these places were. For all he knew America might not have been discovered yet !
"So, where you guys heading after this town?" Darren asked, trying to change the conversation.
"To find some decent Game. Ever heard of the Loch Ness Mons-"
"Wester, there ain't no Nessie!" Another Vampire in the pack yelled from the bar stall, "I've god damn swam those waters every day 'o ma life! Aint no Monster!"
"That's what you think, Hamish. But I would like to see myself, and through Sober eyes," Wester remarked quickly, the group laughing and slapping Hamish, 'the Drunk', on his back.
Larten nodded in approval of Wester's retort, grinning as he took a deep gulp and finished his pint, fingering the froth before going over for the next round.
"I want to find Nessie." Wester continued, tapping Darren's wrists, "It's a dream of mine since I heard about the legend back in my Shire."
"That sounds adventurous," Darren noted, slicking his hair back as it fell over his face, "you mind if I tag along? I'm just looking to see the world before working my way up the ranks."
"Sure," Wester nodded, clinking his glass to Darren's, "You fancy yourself a Prince?"
"Actually, I was setting my sights on becoming a General," Darren nodded, trying to sound humble. He'd done the Prince thing and, if he had a second chance at life, he sure as hell wasn't going to be sat up in that hall for the majority of it.
"Larten's the same. Seba's training us up but, between you and me, it's not something I relish the idea of. Power, yes, responsibility though?" Wester shrugged, "But becoming a General is my best bet in sparking war between us and the vampaneze."
"You want a war?" Darren choked, as he dropped his mug.
"Aye. I want those bastards blown right off the face of this world. We could do it, you know. The Vampaneze are of no significance to our race. They truly are just draining our natural resources. Why should we-"
"Get outta ma pub!" The bar man suddenly roared, toe to toe with Larten. The two were both red faced, Larten puffing out his chest to intimidate whilst the bar man grabbed hold of a cork screw, "Get out! We don't serve your kind here."
Darren frowned, rising as Wester did, the brother ready to intercept at the possibility that Larten was going to get stabbed, good and proper right through the heart.
"Vur, drop it," Tanish ordered, stepping up and pulling Larten back before turning towards the barman, "My humble apologies, Sir. Might I ask what my friend did?"
"Blood. You want that, go to Tenth Street. You're lucky I aint callin' the Father. He should be hung for Witch Craft!" The barman roared, throwing a finger at Larten who stood like a rabid animal. Slowly, the entire pack stood behind Tanish, growling and snapping, looking truly monstrous and dangerous as a unit.
"I think, Sir, it is lucky that you haven't called for the Father. It would be an awful shame for my men and I to have to drain you, your family, and a man of God dry," Tanish cooed with an evil glint in his eye. "Now, either you shut your mouth and give me and my men the contents of your safe, or I let them lose to destroy this entire town. Understand?"
"Lucifer!" The barman gasped, shrieking as the cork screw suddenly appeared in Wester's hand, the vampire having flitted to obtain it so quickly.
"The money please, my good Sir." Tanish said firmly, offering out his hand to which a bag of shillings was given. "Pleasure doing business with you. Come boys! Vur needs to feed!"
With a boisterous roar of approval, the group stormed out of the tavern, Darren thankful that Wester grabbed his shoulder and led him onwards; he was looking out for him which Darren was entirely thankful for. Everything was so mad. Everything was just so backwards. Everything was a fucking joke to them.
Tanish had slithered an arm around Larten's shoulder, tossing the stolen bag of coins in his hand. They were laughing and joking, uncaring that they had just terrified a human and threatened his family and the town Father.
"It's a lot to take in right now, but we'll look out for you." Wester smiled, squeezing Darren's shoulder, "You're safe with me and Larten. Promise."