Even The Wicked Has Morals

"But if this keeps up..we'll be here for a millennium." Raccun said as he ripped his sword from Kazelle, and Kazelle ripped his umbrella from Raccun.

Both of them, blood leaking from their bodies as if they were sponges, soaked the ground enormously, it looked like it had rained carnage; in this case, it literally did. They both began to heal, and Raccun said, "I don't have all night, so, we'll meet again. If I can't beat you right now, then I have to figure out how to beat you permanently. Until then, don't die, you're my archenemy, my rival, ever since we were young kin. I shall be the one to kill you, merciless king."

Kazelle smiled, "I'll be looking forward to it…"

Raccun blasted away, and the barrier surrounding the neighborhood had been dismantled, and the corrupted bodies of the people all dropped to the ground, because of Raccun's disappearance. He had to deactivate all the curses just to leave himself, but he knew Kazelle wouldn't chase after him, so he was confident in himself.

Kazelle watched, thinking, 'Letting you leave is the smartest move. Fighting you over and over for a long time would be time wasting, I'm pretty sure you have better things to do like being someone's lap dog. If you're not with the cult, who do you bark to? Doing this might lead me to find my wife and daughter, if they're here. I have high hopes they are, since they are my true blood, Visceris probably cast down everyone on my side. Raccun and many other Vampires came here before my fight with Gorron. Which means they didn't lose memories. Which confirms Visceris altered the memories of the newly arrived Vampires, which leads to another conclusion: Visceris altered the memories of those close to me. I had a close relationship with Castila and Darius, they were high up in my ranks, but Raccun…he's always been my rival, my nemesis. And his memories aren't fucked up. That confirms those who were close to me have altered memories, no wonder Gorron's cult members and the zealots knew exactly who I was when I confronted them. My wife and daughter..they could be here!'

"Kazelle!"

Kazelle turned around, seeing Beckham walking towards him, covered in blood, holding a little boy on her back.

Kazelle said, "Oh? You found a straggler?"

"This is the boy of the family who were the witnesses in this Gunvalley case when it first got hit. Maybe we can get some answers out of him."

"Hmm."

"Where is Raccun? Did you evaporate him? Eat him?"

"Vampires don't eat other Vampires, human. I let him go, simply for the fact that he won't seem to die so easily, and now that we have pieces of information, we got as much as we did even if we did kill him. Perhaps him being alive would lead us to more information.

"Yeah I guess you're finally right about something."

"And you seemed to have fun as well. Protecting that human I suppose?"

"The rush, the adrenaline, the very thought of protecting like my father did to me, got me excited. And I was kicking ass like usual."

"You are not dead. Good. I need to keep manipulating you to get what I want."

"Awwww, is someone glad I'm alive? Did the 'merciless' 'stone cold' king grow a heart?"

"A foolish phrase you have spoken, fragile human."

"Mhm. So let me guess, you want something in return for all of this HARD work?"

"Yes. Lead me to my wife and daughter or I'll banish you to the nether realm of hell."

"HAHAHA! It's funny when you talk all kingly and shit. Darius and Castila can't detect specific vampires, only around the area. You three can head out tomorrow, it should be gray skies, no sun, you all should be fine."

"Mm. Seems you're upholding your end of the deal."

"Of course I am, I'm not a snake of anything."

Rushing in, was Castila and Darius, and they exclaimed, "AGHHH! We're here!"

They both looked up and down at Kazelle and Beckham's bloody forms.

Castila folded her arms, "Kazelle just wanted to take all the credit. Threatening us not to come is ABSURD."

Darius added, "We're just as strong too!"

Kazelle walked up to them, and bonked them on the head with his fists, making them yell, "OW! The bell was that for?!"

Kazelle , "See? You almost died from that."

"YOU TRIED TO KILL US!" Darius and Castila exclaimed.

"If I wanted to, you'd be dead already."

"Damn you.."

Beckham said, "Okay, tomorrow you two will be going with Kazelle through the city to look for more kin, I promised him that much."

Darius folded his arms, "Hmph. And what if we say no?"

Kazelle pointed his gun at them, "Then it's over for both of you."

"Fine! Fine!"

Kazelle smirked, thinking, 'I guess at this moment, installing fear is the best way to get something…'

…

The moonlight dipped beneath the horizon, its last rays conceding the sky to twilight's embrace, as Hajun, a vampire of an ancient lineage, entered the Beds 'n' Gears Inn with his enigmatic companion, Niorh. The inn was a cozy establishment nestled in the heart of New Babel, a haven for travelers and locals seeking respite from the city's perpetual hum of industry. Veils of steam unfurled from nearby pipes, casting a spectral haze that clung to the cobblestones like an ethereal shroud.

Hajun and Niorh were wearing hats to cover half of their appearance.

Hajun approached the innkeeper, a portly man with a cherubic face that belied a shrewd nature shaped by years behind the counter. The inn itself was imbued with a rustic charm, wrapped in warm, burnished wood paneling that glowed softly in the firelight. Brass fixtures and cogs adorned the walls, moving with a faint, rhythmic tick. The ambience carried a symphony of distant chatter and clinking glassware—a medley punctuated by the occasional whistle of trains and hiss of steam.

"Good evening, sir," Hajun addressed the innkeeper with a poised civility, "Might we acquire lodging for the night?"

Before the innkeeper could reply, Niorh perched herself atop a bar stool, her appearance stark against the inn's inviting warmth. Her eyes roamed curiously, settling upon the patrons who eyed her with a blend of fascination and trepidation. Every gesture she made, though devoid of malice, emanated an otherworldly aura.

Her interactions were terse, consisting of single-word utterances that confused and unsettled the onlookers. An inquisitive patron mustered the courage to speak to her, leaning in with a cautious intrigue.

"Miss, are you from around here?" he quizzed, trying to decipher the pallor of her skin and the sharp contrast of her dress.

"Yes," Niorh replied with a serenity that seemed to chill the air around her.

Her succinct answer hung between them, an enigma wrapped in the simplicity of speech. The patrons exchanged nervous glances, their earlier conversations dissolving into hushed tones as their focus shifted to the peculiar woman and her daunting presence.

"Is she alright?" a woman whispered to her neighbor, concern and fear knitting her brow as she sipped at her ale.

"She's... different," came the uncertain reply, eyes not leaving Niorh's still form.

Niorh's obliviousness to the discomfort she wrought was near childlike, her singular movements capturing an innocence that contradicted the fear she inspired.

Hajun watched, he panicked heavily, whispering loudly, "NIORH!"

'We're so fucked. We're so fucked. We're so fucked.'

Meanwhile, the innkeeper, caught between serving Hajun and eyeing Niorh's interaction with his patrons, finally cleared his throat. "Yes, we have rooms available," he said, mustering professionalism. "Will you require anything special for your repose?"

Hajun, having dealt with such situations before, offered a polite but dismissive shake of his head. "No no it's fine. Thank you."

Hajun, covering his face out of embarrassment, he gestured Niorh to follow him, her eerie elegance trailing behind as they ascended the stairs. The inn's atmosphere shifted subtly in their wake, the comforting warmth reasserting itself, though the patrons' voices remained subdued, punctuated by the periodic clink of glassware as they continued their evening steeped in whispered wonderment and wary glances toward the staircase where the enigmatic visitors had vanished.

In the flickering shadows cast by gas lamps within the Beds 'n' Gears Inn, two regulars found themselves nestled into a snug alcove, their heads bowed conspiratorially over their ales, their voices a muted hum beneath the merry clamor of the establishment. The inn's affable warmth did little to dispel the chill seeping into their words as they traded the latest rumors swirling through the streets of New Babel.

"Did you hear?" one of them, a grizzled man with wisps of gray at his temples, spoke in a hushed tone to his companion, a younger chap whose wide eyes spoke of an appetite for the macabre. "The constabulary's been roused to all manner of commotion this eve. Word is, they've sighted creatures of the night, real life vampires, in the city."

His companion leaned in, the shadows playing over his features in stark contrast. "Vampires, here? In New Babel?" he replied skeptically, yet with a hint of intrigue. "You're spinning tales, old man."

The elder scoffed, a crooked smile betraying his relish in the storytelling. "Tales, is it? Then explain the hunting parties I've seen gathering, all silver and garlic, whispers of the Vermillion Order having been consulted. They've even been handing out broadsheets, warning folks to secure their windows and doors come nightfall."

Across the inn, within earshot, a pair of ladies interrupted their sipping of tea to exchange notes on the troubling discourse that had invaded their evening leisure. "Do believe this dreadful talk of vampires lurking about? It sounds like a sensational story concocted by the papers to sell more copies," one lady remarked, her skepticism lacing her refined accent.

One of the ladies, her hands clasped in her lap, cast a wary glance toward the darkened window panes. "Perhaps, but with the constabulary taking to the streets after sunset, one has to consider there's some truth to the terror. New Babel has always been a nexus for the strange and arcane."

"And they say the Council's been silent on the matter, too busy with their experiments and machinations to care for common folk," the man chimed in again, catching the tail end of the ladies' conversation. "We've only got each other to rely on when the creatures of darkness encroach upon our streets."

"Yeah, If it's real. I never seen one of those monsters."

As the night deepened, so too did the tapestry of rumors and hearsay, weaving a collective sense of unease among the patrons. The constabulary's reports of vampire sightings, whether fact or fiction, had kindled imaginations and stoked the coal of fear, transforming the once serene inn into a crucible of hushed conjecture and anxious glances.

The murmur of gossip pervaded the venue, until stepping outside into the cobblestone maze of New Babel, one could almost believe the shadows held fangs, and each alleyway concealed the watchful eyes of a predator. The Beds 'n' Gears Inn held its breath, as did the city, waiting for dawn to prove the night's whispered truths false—or frightfully real.

As Hajun walked away, he thought, 'Of course some people don't believe we exist. Even if they read it in the papers, some people won't believe it until they see it.'

Hajun and Niorh ascended the creaking staircase of the Beds 'n' Gears Inn to the labyrinthine corridors of the guest quarters above. The hallway was lit by a series of dimly flickering sconces that gave the moving shadows a life of their own. While Hajun's demeanor was one of composed urgency, a telltale rigidity in his posture betraying a need for discretion, Niorh was the embodiment of impish curiosity, her eyes glinting with mischief under the muted light.

As they navigated the corridor, Niorh's fingers danced across every possible nook and cranny, trailing over the floral wallpaper, leaving faint, unsettling ripples in their wake—much to Hajun's consternation.

"Niorh..!," Hajun implored with a comical edge of desperation as she randomly knocked on a door as they passed, "we've talked about low profiles, haven't we?"

A flustered guest poked his head out, his eyes squinting in suspicion. "Yes? What is it?" he grumbled, only to be met with the sight of Niorh's innocent shrug and a sheepish Hajun urging her forward.

"Terribly terribly sorry!," Hajun chuckled nervously, ushering Niorh away before she could cause more commotion.

A portrait of New Babel's founding engineer hung askew on the wall, and Niorh couldn't resist straightening it—only too zealously. The frame swung like a pendulum as Hajun jumped to steady it with the grace of a man juggling chainsaws.

"Be careful! That's probably an antique," Hajun fretted, his voice reaching a pitch that barely maintained dignity. "Break that, we gotta pay."

"Oh," Niorh responded simply, her gaze already locked on her next target of fascination—a candelabra that she tipped slightly, just to watch the flames dance erratically.

The tension finally snapped when Niorh, in her whimsical exploration, bumped into an end table, sending a porcelain vase teetering on the edge of disaster. Hajun made a spectacular dive to catch it, and with flailing limbs managed a save that would have the clumsiest of vaudevillians beaming with pride.

A passing chambermaid witnessed the debacle, pausing to take in the sight of Niorh, stretched out on the floor clutching the vase like a beloved child. "Oh my," she chuckled, a bemused smile playing across her lips. "Has the evening been kind to you, sir?"

"Absolutely splendid," Hajun sputtered from the ground, every semblance of composure now lost to the farcical display.

Niorh simply watched, her expression a mixture of curiosity and a touch of pride at the ripple of laughter she had caused, even as Hajun righted himself, the flushed color of embarrassment fighting a silent battle against his natural pallor.

The door creaked ominously as Hajun and Niorh stepped into the sanctuary of their rented room within the Beds 'n' Gears Inn. The room, though modest in size, was furnished with an understated elegance, boasting two wrought iron beds draped in velvet comforters of deep crimson, their intricate headboards casting ornate shadows across the whitewashed walls. Between the beds sat a nightstand, upon which a tarnished brass lamp bathed the room in a warm, subdued glow. On the opposite side, a curtained window promised a view of the New Babel skyline—albeit one to be admired at dusk or dawn when the risk of sunlight was minimal.

While Hajun was relieved to find privacy at last, Niorh appeared unaffected by the change in scenery, her mischievous nature undiminished by the confines of their quarters. She immediately began an investigation, flinging open the curtains with a dramatic flourish, only to be met by the darkened glass showing the outside.

"Ah.." She murmured.

Hajun pulled out the fingerbone artifact, bone of Gorron's hand. He inspected it, thinking, 'When I got here about last year, after learning about Gorron's cult, I blended in, killing one and hiding amongst them, overhearing their operations. I was undercover as a cultist, I was curious to see what was going on because one: SOME of them are vampires, and two, they were affiliated with Gorron. And then after finding Niorh, it makes me wonder how long she was here before I found her. Because the day after Kazelle got banished, Niorh was nowhere to be found. Now this fingerbone, is one of the main conduits for the ritual I heard, if I can destroy it..then it could definitely put a halt in the cult's plans! Right? It's what Kazelle would want me to do if he was alive. I have to act as if he's here. Niorh is the closest thing to Kazelle as it is, and their daughter, Sella. I still need to find her, but still don't have a sign of her anywhere.'

Niorh watched him intently, the cat-like curiosity evident in her posture. Oblivious to Hajun's growing apprehension, she began testing the durability of the mattress springs, bouncing lightly as she asked, "What will you do with it?"

Hajun replied, "I gotta destroy it somehow. It's pretty durable. Gorron was super tough, so it's definitely expected for it to be sturdy."

"Gorron?"

"Your husband, King Kazelle, fought him before, killed him actually."

"Who is that?"

"Gorron, the Vampire Deity, whose thirst for power and dominion knew no bounds. Gorron, whose very name conjures images of a world ensnared in shadow and blood, was driven by a hunger for supremacy that rivalled the abyss itself. His ambitions were as sprawling as the night sky, seeking to envelop the realm of vampires—and beyond—under his unyielding rule. His desires reached into the very marrow of the world: to own both life and death, to be the sovereign over every heart that dared to beat within the dark's domain. In times long past, when the earth was young and the veil between life and death was but a gossamer thread, Gorron reigned with an iron claw and a gaze that could quench the stars' light. This apex predator, borne of the night's deepest roots, constructed an empire carved from the fear of every creature that dared to whisper his name. His rule was the embodiment of the nocturnal dread, for great was his power and vast the legions that bowed before him. But, as often the fates would have it, the eternal night that Gorron sought was met with resistance—the heart of rebellion that beat within the chest of Kazelle, the Vampire King. Kazelle's paradoxical nature, as savage as it was sovereign, led him to war against the deity that sought to enslave the very essence of their kind. In the cataclysmic battle that followed, Gorron's corporeal form was shattered and silenced, quelling the night's unrest. Kazelle saw Gorron's kin as a threat. Legends whisper of Gorron's unspeakable communion with realms beyond the ken of mere mortals and immortals alike. He was not just a creature of fang and shadow but a bridge to an eldritch power that gnawed at the corners of reality. His legacy remained, seeping like a poison into the hearts of those who yearned for a world under his cold watch—a world without dawn, an eternal dominion of his making."

"Bad man."

"Yeah he was a bad man."

"And Kazelle? He's a bad man?"

"No. Not at all. Some people didn't agree with the choices he made, how many he's killed, and hasn't shown mercy to, but deep down, he's a good king. He smiles from time to time, like he was trying to be nicer."

"Do I know him?"

"You did, you two got married, you used to be an assassin for Gorron until you fell in love with Kazelle and then he took you in and you helped aid in Gorron's death, providing the Crimson Spire with information that led to us finding him. Kazelle used that to wage war against his own realm, and it ended in bloodshed. You two have a daughter named Sella as well."

"Where is he?"

"Kazelle is dead..supposedly. His heart was banished to hell by the Sanguine Council. Since Hell is the place where vampires draw dark magic from, and how it's impossible to go there unless you have astral projection performed on you, it was Visceris's idea."

"Oh.."

"Maybe if you saw something super familiar, then maybe your memories would come back."

"I have memories. I have a family, a brother and a sister. My parents helped tend to horses, I sometimes helped."

Hajun wanted to cry, he looked up at the ceiling, thinking, 'Those aren't her memories…they've been altered, with the most beautiful moments of her life being gone. Fuck..I'll kill that bastard and the elders. That day when I tried my hardest to fight back against the elders..I did it not only for Kazelle to see how stronger I've gotten, but to show those bastards and Visceris how far I'm willing to go to set things straight. Even if I have to betray my own kin who does wrong by us.'

He took the artifact in hand, measured its weight, and knocked it gently against the nightstand; it emitted a dull thud, showing no sign of damage.

Unsatisfied with the bounce, Niorh then turned her attention to the fingerbone, her eyes sparkling with impish delight. "May I?" she inquired with an innocence Hajun knew to be deceptive.

Hajun passed her the artifact with cautious reluctance. "Be careful, it's—"

Before he could finish, Niorh tested the fingerbone with her own methods. First, she attempted to tie it into a knot, as if the ancient bone could be as malleable as ribbon. Then, she placed it between the beds and pressed down, attempting to snap it with the full force of her supernatural strength, only to have it pop out playfully and skitter to a stop by Hajun's feet.

She furrowed her brow in faux concentration, tapping it lightly against her fang, an experimental chime resonating in the room. "Stubborn thing."

Hajun could only watch, half in horror and half in amusement, as his exasperation bubbled into laughter at her antics.

"Haha! I forgot how curious you always were, and kinda clumsy."

"Sorry."

"NO. NO. T-That's not a bad thing!"

"It's good?"

"Yes."

"Mm. Then I'm good."

Hajun thought, '

Niorh pouted humorously, but complied, tossing herself onto her assigned bed with a dramatic sigh. The two vampires settled in for the night, the atmosphere lightened by their playful banter. In their secluded room, with the mysterious artifact still intact, the night in New Babel whispered on with secrets yet to reveal.

Hajun walked back and forth, saying, "There's gotta be a way to destroy this thing! Or break it or crack it or something! Gorron's body was made up of dark curse magic, something probably that has a long lasting effect on his body, like he prepared for this as well.."

All of a sudden, a noise came from the fingerbone, a whisper, saying, "Where…is my master?"

Hajun and Niorh gasped, and Hajun began to have goosebumps.

Downstairs of the lobby, a woman was walking through the lobby, with a baby wolf on her shoudler, the wolf had glowing red eyes, black and red fur, red horns, and shadows coming off of it.

The woman had red and white hair made out of feathers, she had pale skin, red eyes, and red lines on her face, and she wore no clothes at all.

The men in the lobby began to have nosebleeds, their lust rising, not even admiring the fact that she didn't look human at all.

But some of them said:

"Whoa.."

"Is she a part of a theatre..?"

"This late at night? She's probably one of those cexotic performers, probably came to give us a show-."

The wolf said to the woman, "Kukuku..these humans are getting a little excited, Morgane."

"You sniffed the fingerbone here? Why would it be here, when it was supposed to be by the white tree where it was left for us by a member of our kin?"

"Beats me. I say we slaughter everyone and get on with it."

"There is no need to slaughter anyone who isn't involved. My mother, the High Priestess, said so herself. We only came for the last fingerbone. We have the other four, the entire hand which you used to get a scent off of. We will be polite."

"Ugh. Boring. You know the High Priestess assigned me to you so we can-."

"Have satisfying results, I do not result to immediate carnage. Unless I am pushed to do so."