The week passes by too soon for for your liking, but you and your compatriots can all agree that you got work done. You spent the week teaching the lesser-experienced Creations how to use their powers in battle, emphasizing team-work and effort. Like Kelso taught you, you passed on the knowledge of the power of emotion-- something you can vouch works in a fight. As the training went on it became rather obvious that in their human form, you can easily take on the strongest werewolf. In the real, bestial for, however, you have to use your wits. For that, you are forever thankful you are on the Wolves' good side. Heck, you're leading them to possible suicide.

Other things you've focused on is appealing to both Gideon and Ragnor, both people whom you know you can trust to some sort of degree.

The one thing you feel somewhat apologetic about is that you haven't been able to spend as much time with Cecilia as you wanted to, but you manage to remind yourself that if you succeed in taking over the City, you'll have all the time in the world. Perhaps, with enough time, you'll even learn the wolven-lingo, though it's the least of your worries currently.

You focus on the plan: it's basic espionage, like how a movie would set it out (though you can't remember any one in particular). They send a one-man army to the middle of the battlefield, while they storm the castle-walls. You're confident that you can take care of yourself, especially in the night-time, assuming that's when you're sent in.

The Creations stand together in a circle, well below the surface, waiting for the the scouting team (Ragnor's group) to tell you whether today is the day. While the Zealots begin their march to the Stronghold, the Creations will quickly get away, and run toward the city, attacking it while half of it's forces are trying to find the nonexistent. Time passes; you do this twice a day, once in the morning and once in the evening, to see if they're preparing for a night-attack or not. You hope it's at night, as the Creations would have an advantage, probably. Additionally, you wouldn't have to worry about sun-tan lotion, the tube Kelso gave you will run out sooner or later. And so you wait, everybody around you waiting in silence.

You hear the codified knock: Clunk-clunk-clunk.

That's three times. Today isn't the day after all.

You go out to train once more, reviewing everything, and then turning back to refill on blood. Gideon gives you a broken plastic-cup with maybe an ounce of his blood. You drink it slowly, savoring the taste. It reinvigorates you, like usual, and you set down to meditate, waiting for nightfall.

That night...

Clunk-clunk-clunk-clunk

That's 4... Is tonight the night?

Ragnor's hooded head pokes out of the hatch, "Come on, wake everybody. Now!"

Getting out of your trance, you begin repeatedly whispering, "Now!" as you went along, pulling off blankets from the Wolves. As with procedure, the Wolves spring into action, readying their clothes and going down, dividing themselves into the groups. Soon, the only Creations left are you (after ushering everybody out) and Gideon. "Gideon, are you coming?" You ask, concerned. You don't want to be late, after all.

The hunchback stares back at you solemnly, not speaking.

"Goddammit Gideon, let's go!" You begin edging out of the room.

He opens his mouth to speak, then closes it again.

"Gideon, if you don't come with us, you'll die. We want you with us, so just... Come, man."

"You may have been right about the Church, Vamp. But it doesn't change a thing. The real monster is the Professor, not humanity. Hurting them is hurting us..."

You shake your head in disbelief, before angrily waving him off. That hippie won't bring me down.

With haste, you make it to the well's opening, jumping off the walls to speedily catch up with Ragnor and the others. You were lucky they chose night-time, but that doesn't mean they didn't take advantage of it either. No flashes from miles ahead, just darkness, and maybe some slow movement here or there... But you only notice it if you squint. Crafty of them. "Ragnor, you see them?"

"Yeah." He says, calling out from ahead, "But where's Gideon? He's supposed to be leading his group!"

"I don't think that fool is coming." You spit out, finally catching up. "But it's unimportant. David can lead them."

"David isn't exactly a leading-personality."

"He knows what he's doing."

"Which is why he should come with you! He'd be much more useful by you than by us. We're just giving you time. We can have one of the other Wolves lead, but for now you will no doubt need help, and a former Zealot is just perfect."

You agree; David can help you take on the city from the inside.

"Alright," you reply with a nod, "David will definitely be a huge help, considering that he's familiar with the area, but..."

"But?"

You frown, "I hope you guys'll be safe. The Zealots, especially in number, aren't pushovers."

Ragnor smiles, and gives you a brotherly hug, "Don't worry Vamp, we'll manage. The Wolves aren't exactly pushovers either haha."

"I know." You grin, returning the hug. You imagine, that after all this ends-- the fighting, you can retire, and just live your unlife with your new family. A dream, perhaps, but it's something to hope for. Soon after Ragnor turns to leave, he suddenly looks back at you, pupils dilated.

"Wait a sec, David was a Zealot before you ghouled him, right?"

"Err, yeah."

"And he's still wearing his armor?"

"Everything but the helmet."

"You think they'd recognize him?"

A pause begins, and ends with laughter. Ragnor snaps at you and puts on a silly grin, and jogs ahead back to his groups. You don't know who will head the second group, but you hope that it won't matter. All you need to do is wreak havoc in the city, and stay alive. The assault groups will do the rest, hopefully without harm as well.

With David silently in tow, you continue on, analyzing the strong hold. Even from afar, the sleepless City is easily seen, and as you march on around the incoming Zealots, you can see how they set up the City's defense. Six sentries, commandeering strobe lights in a hexagonal circumference around the city, obviously looking out for unidentified enemies. Thankfully, flashing-Zealot armor is pretty identifiable, and so is David's face, assumably.

"David?" You call, looking to make sure he's listening. He nods in return, but doesn't speak. "You think the Zealots will recognize you if they see you?"

"Definitely, why?"

"Since that means that you can draw attention due to your disappearance while I kill the head-honchos."

"That's smart." He says, succinct as usual.

You quit trying to make conversation and, once you get close enough to the City, point at the Zealot commandeering the strobe light in front of you. "Can you kill him before he turns to a radio?"

David nods, and clicks on his blinking Cross-armor (you figure that it's to ward off friendly-fire) before he begins the march through the strobe light, waving his hands in the air and running to the Sentry. After several moments, you can see a wordless discussion taking place, starting with the sentry saluting and ending with him unconscious on the floor. When David turns the light a bit to the right, it gives you dark-space to walk through, unnoticed.

The two groups are not too far away, and you manage to wave to Cecilia and Ragnor before following David into the urban Church City. You pat David's back and consider your good decision making. But, once again, you just hope the others will be alright...

You church City

The strobe light aimed back to its original place and the Zealot downed by his own, you and David make your way to the barb-wire fence, and easily leap above it, too lazy to get the key from the Zealot. After David turns off his blinkers, you begin to pay more attention to the City only to realize that, from the inside at least, it isn't nearly as bustling as you thought it was. Perhaps that's because most of them went to raid the hideout. Gideon is still there...

You shake your head; you tried your best with that fool, now it's time to take what's yours; what the Creations deserve regardless of what the Church or the Professor think of them. Not weapons, not demons: just people. David waits for you to start walking again, tapping his foot eagerly. He doesn't speak much, but you can tell he enjoyed his time with the Wolves. Still, you'll always wonder what's inside his head, now as a ghoul.  You continue through the ghost-town, which for whatever reason has all of it's buildings rigged with neon lights, flashing. David leads you through the ugly urban landscape, and you keep a lookout for humans. Suddenly, you spot one, walking out of some sort of pub, walking unsteadily. You grab David by the cuff of his armor and quickly hide in the shadow of some sort of looming dumpster. With a finger to your lips, you wait until the man's back is turned before you sneak up on him, digging claws into his neck for a quick and silent death. The man falls to the ground dead, and you lick your bloody nails. David, unfazed, comes out of the shadows only to pick up the man, and silently position him into the trash. "That pub holds a great deal of Zealots. We need to move out before they see me."

You nod in return. At first you considered just going in and slaughtering the gathering of Zealots, but then realized that the light-weights Ragnor and his crew could handle, but the higher-ups are going to be an issue. David once again takes lead, and you prowl the streets, silently killing anything in your way, passing by buildings of all shapes and sizes, though most not even occupied.

Two buildings in particular stand out, however: one mansion with a giant blue Cross above the door; the other large and rectangular with an upside-down Cross, for whatever reason.You'd look through the windows to see what's going on inside, but the windows of both buildings seem to just reflect your own image, though you can only really discern your armor since your pale profile doesn't come out well in the reflection.

"The one with the holy-sword is Zealot-headquarters, the other one is the Chapel." David answers your thoughts, smiling at you. "I think it's in our best interest to enter and clear out both."

"Which do you suggest to do first?"

"Either one, sir. We need to kill Father Tomas and the Chief, both in their respective buildings. The Zealots who aren't on their way to the stronghold will be in both, though. But whichever we pick, we need to do it quick; Ragnor and the others will be making their move any moment now."

You enter the Chapel.

Not wasting any time, you turn to face the Chapel. Metallic and looming over you, with a large neon cross, still flashing. The door is a harsh steel, too old to cast a discernable reflection but maintained enough not to rust nor weaken. "How should we enter, then?"

"No backdoors to the Church. Only one direction if you follow God." David recites from behind you.

With a shrug, you continue onwards, going up a flight of concrete stairs, leading up to the looming steel door. You consider trying to bash the door in, but decide that knocking it and waiting for the door to be opened by whoever's inside would be an easier solution for getting in.

Clang

Your gauntlet taps at the metal. After a pause, you can hear noises on the inside of the Chapel, mostly worried murmuring. You quickly motion for David to go in front, right before a bald young man in ceremonial blue robe opens the door. In response to your ghoul's profile, the man just gapes for several moments before opening his mouth to speak. "Dave?!?"

"No... Not anymore." He states, walking into the Church. The man doesn't seem to even notice you, engrossed in seeing a living ghost instead. Inside, several other monks are gathered, all of them staring at David with awe. You take the opportunity to slink into the shadow, and wait.

"Behold! The blessed Lord brought our child back!" They cry, waving their hands in the air in synchronization. Up and down their hands go, until one with a cowl speaks up, "Brother David, where were you?"

Your ghoul stares at them with disdain, "I got lost, but was found by a group of humans."

They continue to gape. The cowled-one continues his interrogation, "Hmm? More humans, you say?

"Crazy enough, the humans were in our backyard this entire time. We just didn't recognize them."

"Whatever do you mean?"

"The Wolves, Vadim. They're good people."

Gasps erupt, and David's only looks down to his feet, and his hands ball up to fists. "They changed you, didn't they?" The one with the cowl points, and begins to chant in some sort of language which you are unfamiliar with.

Bored of their religious, antics, you make your presence known by jumping out of the shadows, and decking 'Vadim' with a right hook, sending him to the middle of the crowd of twelve-or-so Monks. David nods, and sends a sharp kick to the nearest Zealot surrounding him. Before you know it, it becomes a rowdy brawl of fists.

The monks may be very agile, but without any weapons nor armor you figure you or even David could take them out alone. Something tells you the alarms around the buildings weren't for show either-- you need to find the Father, quick!

You abandon David to search the Church.

"David, finish off these grunts as I find the big man upstairs." You call out, examining the building for the Father's Quarters.

David nods, "Up the stairs, to the left!"

Your head turns from right to left, looking for the set of stairs that will lead you to the Father. Finding the red-carpeted stairs, you begin your ascent, only to be stopped by a heavy-set Monk, who angrily shoves you backwards. "Get away, foul demon!"

He continues pushing, but you catch his left arm, and end squeeze-- Crack. He yells out in pain, and you manage to grab him by the cuff of his robe, only to throw him out of the way and into a wall. You run up the staircase, skipping steps to maintain speed. After reaching the end of the first staircase, you deftly,turn your body, not wasting any time by getting to the adjacent continuation of the stairs. Several leaps later, you reach the end of the stair case, only to be confronted by a terribly old man in a ceremonial blue robe, with a skullcap covering his no doubt balding head. His face is withered, and his frail eyes only compliment an extremely happy demeanor. This, you presume, is Father Tomas.

He stares at you, silent, and raises a large metallic cross from an opening of his robe, though he seems to be holding it the wrong way...

Wary of his silver weapon, you take a step to the side-- giving you room. "Father Tomas, it seems that I have finally had the honor to meet you."

"No, the pleasure is mine, Vampire. Fate has brought it that it is my responsibility to put you down, as well as your canine friends."

You glare at him in anger, and flick at your wrist; claws out, you get into a battle-stance. He, in turn, raises his shimmering Cross, wielding it as a sword.

"I wouldn't put up a fight, if I were you. I know for a fact that you Creations can't heal from a wound of silver, and as such you have no otherworldly advantage over me."

You laugh, "Except perhaps the age part."

The priest stops smiling and instead eyes you angrily, "I suppose you'll learn the hard way." He slowly begins to approach you, his sword, pulsating with some sort of unrecognizable energy, held high. You make a quick examination of your surroundings: the stair case from behind you, doors and other hallways to your right, though several meters forward and to your left is a ledge, where there's an at least three-story drop down to the first floor, where you can see David slowly whittling off the Monks. Perhaps you can use the ledge to your advantage...

You continue to parallel the insane priest, your claws at your side and your wits still intact. You need to make the first move, but how should you go about it? The man looks old, but something about him tells you that he's more than capable of wielding his weapon masterfully. Still, you're probably quicker than him, and a quick fight is all you need. Then again, you need to watch out for the silver sword, because if he gets a solid hit on you then you're done.

You fight Aggressively.

You continue to stand parallel to the Head-Zealot, slowly beckoning him closer to the side with a ledge. While you know you have to end the fight soon, you also know that this won't be an easy fight. The cackling priest advances, holding his heavy Cross out like a rapier, poking it at you, trying to get you to move back. Deciding that staying on the defensive won't save you from this mad man, you take action by leaping in his direction-- he grins, preparing to simply swing upwards to hit you, but manage to somersault out of the old man's swipe, and land a heavy kick to his face. He staggers backwards, his hand on his eye in a mixture of pain and anger. Tomas angrily sends another swipe with his sword at you, but you're already charging for him, pushing the old to the ledge that is now to your right with your forearm. The priest coughs, but quickly recovers.

Relentless, you send another barrage of jabs at him, moving close enough to him that his long-range won't be an advantage for him. A mixture of punches and claws manage to cut his robe to shreds, and he struggles to get you off of him-- to no avail. After a silly, pointless scuffle you manage to hold him right by the ledge, where a fall to the death would await him. Tomas holds up his silver cross, creating a pseudo-barrier between the two of you, but you just grab hold of it with your gauntlets, and shove him at the wooden slabs, and slowly increase pressure, slowly increase it. Several seconds more of pushing, and he won't have a choice of how his body breaks, as you'll secure his death in the fall. You shove once more...

Snap.

"There we go... See you in hell, bastard!" The wooden splinters open, and you find the two of you tumbling down at several meters, both grasping for eachothers' throats.

Unfortunately for you, the old man barely manages to grab hold of your hair and uses it as leverage to be just slightly above you...

You both fall with a heavy thud, your armored body crashing through the floor. You struggle to get out of it, as you find your armor almost embedded in to the rubble. Still, you manage to get up, and the sharp pang you feel in your head slowly begins to disappear.

As the dust clears, you find a bleeding Tomas with a bloody eye holding an unconscious David to the wall, his silver sword still gripped in his hands. His remaining useable eye stares right at you, and the priest begins to cackle further, "If you take even one more step towards me, I swear I will slay your disciple right now. But, if you leave me here to die in peace, not of a sinners hand, then I can promise that I will not kill him. Hmm, you like this deal?"

Your loyal ghoul stares at you blankly, and his shaking head can either be interpreted as a plea to let him live or to kill the priest. Or perhaps something else?

Stunned and still recovering, you try to make a decision with a clear head...

You kill the Priest where he stands, because damn the consequences.

"I'm sorry, David." You state, realizing that Tomas will be killing your ghoul regardless of your choices. With that in mind, you rush the bleeding geezer, hoping to catch him before he can finish off your ghoul. As you thrust your clawed hand at his head, he just barely manages to skewer David.

Never has a killing felt more rewarding. Your hand pierces the fleshy skin-- leaving a flayed face and a collapsed priest. With a grunt, you rush over to David's side, horrified by the gruesome hole in his chest.

You don't really say anything to him, as there is nothing more to say. He fulfilled his duty to you well, and his job, once the City will be taken over, will be easily replaced. But, for now, his death shall allow others of your kind to live. David smiles, and holds your hand firmly. Memories flash of your brief but powerful connection, Oh, and we just were getting close, too...

As David closes his eyes, you stand up, ready to continue your mission-- now, to Zealot HQ. You make your way through the piles of corpses to the front door of the Church, more angry than anything else at this point. By now you recognize that the sirens are still blaring, which means that Zealots should be piling up in the streets-- but the street you see has nobody walking. Though you do hear voices from somewhere far to the left, you can't help but notice that Zealot HQ has its door open.

Am I too late? You wonder, as you make haste by running into the building, looking around for someone to waste your adrenaline on. Inside, you see perhaps three half-dressed Zealots yawning and loitering about, seemingly confident that this is a false alarm.

This means nothing to you, and you rush one-- kick him into a nearby table, deck the other one with a heavy punch, and angrily bite into the last one's hand when he tries to strangle you from behind. It's over in a matter of minutes, but you suddenly feel like you're being... Watched.

"Bravo, Demon." Comes the voice. From across the room you can see a white-armored Zealot, taller and more sizeable than most you've seen. He carries with him a silver sword, less blunt than Tomas's though it doesn't seem to resonate with the same energy. "I see you were able to butcher my friends quickly enough, but somehow I doubt you'll manage to take someone like myself as easily."

"Who're you?" You roar, setting yourself in front of him.

"Zealot Karat, Chief of the Zealots." He grins, "At least, until the real Chief comes home from your clever diversion.

"If." You state, bluffing. I have no idea what happened with Gideon and the other Zealots... "If, he comes back."

Katar doesn't bother answering, and instead positions himself with his silver katana in an aggressive fighting position. Once again, you find yourself in a tactical situation that you need to decide how to approach. You need to be careful about his silver sword and make sure to finish the fight quickly, but he's probably more spry than that bastard, Tomas.

You play it defensively, make sure that sword doesn't come near your body.

Fueling your rage into reserve energy, to be used when necessary, you plant your feet to the ground, readying yourself for the Zealot.

Karat laughs, lazily letting his sword's tip fall to the ground. The man's bravery (or is it bravado?) astonishes you, "So, you fear God's might?"

"Maybe, but not your's." Comes your sharp answer.

"Then how come you haven't readied yourself to attack? Are you worried you won't make the cut?"

"I'm simply more confident in your ability to leave yourself open, thanks."

Karat shrugs, "Suit yourself, Vampire. Perhaps you shall find fear of God's servant instaed." With that, he raises his silver katana, it gleaming in the neon lights of the building. His stance confirmed, aggressive, he poises to attack. The white Zealot advances, giving a wide and open slash in the air to test you.

Of course, you pass with barely any effort-- just a turn of the neck. Karat laughs once again, and attempts to bum-rush you-- but your defensive stance gives you an advantage, and with clever foot work you grip his wrist, pull, and flip him onto a nearby table. It cracks under the pressure of an armored giant slammed onto it, but the Zealot gets back up and, still gripping his katana, sends a swift vertical cut down at you. You attempt to dodge, but you'd admit that you didn't expect him to get back up so fast, and the slash sticks into your shoulder-armor, just barely missing your skin.

As lucky as you were back there, now Karat has the initiative. He pulls the sword back, grabbing you with it and sending a heavy boot at your stomach. You begin to tip over, but you're sent backwards by a heavy, gauntleted punch to your nose-- which sends you back several feet and onto the ground. Your vision blurs slightly though you manage to get up before Karat manages to land a more accurate cut at your forehead, and manage to grapple him, using the core of your body to push him back. Your nose for some reason still bloodied, you continue to prefer close quarters, where your pinging head won't hamper your vision. Using the anger built up, you manage to grab hold of his helmet with both hands, and squeeze.

The man screams, much like your ghoul did not so long ago. They all do, the humans scream in pain, struggle and kick in their last moments. And as the helmet crumples up and the man goes limp, you embrace your inner demon and drink him dry. The blood is refreshing and your vision clears, but then you notice why his armor is so bright. Must be inlaid with silver...

You shrug. Does it really matter if the Zealots have been inlaying their weapons with silver? The Wolves can take care of themselves...


Regardless, realizing that there aren't any Zealots left in the building, you leave to see how the war is going. Mission Accomplished.

You look for Ragnor and the others.

You make your way outside of the building shaken but undeterred. The streets are empty, but you know that there are more humans in the houses, hiding. While the fighting itself may be dying down, you feel the need to go out and meet your courageous brethren, rather than have them come for you. You run down the steps and onto the concrete street, continuing back from where you came from, meanwhile trying to shove away distracting thoughts of your deceased friend. When this is done, we will honor you properly...

Eventually, you begin to notice armored corpses strewn about in awkward positions. Alternatively, you find a brown Wolf, whom you recognize as the Middle-eastern man, white-eyed and bloody by a curb. How many of us were lost this day?

You continue on in solemn silence when you reach the fence, and from beyond it you can see several more Wolven corpses. Frantically, you search for Cecilia-- Phew, none of them are blonde like she was. But still... This leaves perhaps eight of us left... Most likely the last of our kind.

"Vamp!" Comes a cry behind you. You turn around quickly to be hugged by an especially warm Cecilia, with Ragnor smiling with glee. You return the embrace, happiness overcoming the previous thoughts of dread.

"I'm glad to see your alright, man. We had a tough fight, but we fended the hordes of Zealots off. How did your fights go?"

You nod, "We... We killed Tomas and- and a man named Karat, called himself 'Chief'.  Either way, the place was deserted from Zealots by the time I came looking for you."

"Zealots? What about civilians?"

Cecilia joins the interrogation with the question you least wish to answer at this moment, "And where's David?"

"The Father killed him." You answer succinctly, still trying to get your mind off of it-- you don't want anymore nightmares. "I'm going to deal with the civilians soon, Ragnor. I have a plan for them."

Ragnor nods in turn, "Unfortunate, though he died a warrior's death. What shall you do with the civilians?"

"Ghoul them, use them to help rebuild this city. Once this works, we can make an entire civilization of Zealots, and then... Find the Professor and kill the bastard."

"Solid thinking. But what precisely is the next move?"

"Well, where are the surviving Creations?"

"Rampaging. Cecilia here was the only one of the virgins to be able to control their forms."

"Rampaging?"

"Err, yeah." Ragnor replies, confused, "What's the problem?"

"For the plan to work we need as many live humans as possible to rebuild. Ghouls, remember?" Without wasting anymore time, you begin to move back in search of the Wolves when you feel a heavy hand on your shoulder, holding you back.

"Woah there, Vamp. Are you sure you want to stop them? This is the first time they're in actual control of their lives. Plus, they're probably too tired to do any real damage. Just let 'em have their fun, alright?"

You give in.

You stop in your tracks and turn around. "Alright, Ragnor. But we need to go see where they are if only to get things up and running before the rest of the Zealots come back from the hideout."

Ragnor's eyes seem to pop out, "Shit! I forgot about them!"

Moving as quickly as possible, you follow your ears to and alley-way, where seven Wolves lay, peacefully licking the blood off their coats. You let out a loud sigh of relief after this, thankful that they didn't cause too much havoc after the fight was won and that they're all in one place. Several of them snarl at you but remain reserved enough so Ragnor can give them a fatherly rub on the head, making them relax. And, as they collectively relax, they slowly morph out of their animal-forms and back to their naked, wonderful selves.

This, your family, will be the parents of a new nation of Creations. A new beginning for your race.

You counting from A.D.

For both the humans and Creations of Church-City, now simply referred to as 'Home', everything changed after the Night of First-Blood. Twelve moons past and the event simply became what everybody began counting from. Today marks the first year since it happened, and the Ghouls, in all of this time, have slowly warmed up to the 7 apostles and yourself, dubbed the Messiah of Creation. You care little for the title, but the energy spent creating a hierarchy and stable society would be all for naught without a leader, and you-- decorated 'war' hero and leader of the Wolves was the unanimously voted candidate. Ragnor wasn't interested in the position-- the way he put it was, "I'd much rather lead others to fight than lead them to work."

As such, he mostly leads reconnaissance and other various missions while you worry about the boring stuff, such as feeding the hundreds of blood-thirsty ghouls, setting up scouting teams and doing fluffy 'moral support' meetings with your apostles. The scouting teams come with information about the surrounding areas and the status of the wildlife and animals in the desert, but you make sure they don't go too far out-- several scouts have been known to just disappear mysteriously.

Your methods can't be called 'moral' by any means, though they are efficient. Perhaps thirty of the least fit humans were spared from being ghoul, and instead were tasked with giving of their blood monthly. The ghouls didn't need more than an ounce per month in addition to other foods, though you found yourself needing much more. The humans gave to the point that they practically were ghouls themselves, but not quite. Too tired to revolt, but too useful to just kill.

Furthermore, you spent time looking through old files in the Zealot-labs, searching for more information on the Professor. What you found wasn't as much as you'd hope, just his name and several of his affiliations. No physical description or photo, just names, affiliations, and several of his experiments.

Still, you're hoping that when you finally crack the computer you'll be able to find more on him. Ragnor thinks it's a long-shot and stopped helping you sort through the files to figure it out, deeming it 'hopeless' and a 'waste of time'. Truth be told, he might have a point-- for all you know, the Professor could have died a while ago.

But there was one conundrum that among the time elapsed that you're all struggling to answer: what happened to the other Zealots? And Gideon?

The desert was periodically searched for any traces of them, but nothing turned up. Several times you've set out to search for Kelso

As much work as you had, you managed to do some more enjoyable things in your 'down time'.

The Wolves. (Optional)

Even though the Creations are now in control of their lives and aren't persecuted for existing, you've heard several reports from the younger ones about nightmares and need for emotional support. After a small discussion about it with Ragnor, you decided that it may be best to have weekly group sessions where everybody can 'talk'. It's silly and tacky but you go along with it. Morale is important.

One of the more memorable meetings was when you discussed the trauma induced from the Professor himself.

"He used to stick a needle in me!" the young Allen blurts out, breaking the ice. "He'd continually poke and pull out my blood until there was nothing left..."

Darla scoffs, "That's nothing, kiddo. The Professor-- he, he used to check if I could become..."

We all watched her closely, intrigued by what she may say, until, suddenly, Doria begins to tear up and bury her head in her arms. Ragnor awkwardly puts his hand around her in an attempt to comfort her, but to no avail.

"The Professor... He was a character." Ragnor begins, "I was brought to consciousness for several days, as he used to take me to spar-- no, fight to the death with his other mutants. Consistently the blonde bastard would take a mortally wounded Creation and perform more experiments on them, to check if he did it right. Still, there was something charismatic about the monster, charismatic; fatherly. Those who survived the fights were sent to far-off places to fight humans, and when we returned we'd be treated like kings until he stuffed us back into tubes."

Nordim remains silent, but perks his head up. His head shakes, but he says nothing. Shamino starts to speak, only to be shut down by Cecilia, who tightly grips Nordim's hand.

"Speak, young one." She whispers. Nordim nods, then opens his mouth. Nothing comes out, but eventually sounds can be made out.

"Professor Kurschner was like.... Like what Ragnor s-said, fatherly. Like, like a f-father to me. And, and... He used to give me treats... If I only hurt someone-- someone for him. I..." He stops, and proceeds to 'do the Darla' and buries his head.

Several gulps later, you begin to realize your displacement in the conversation. Why exactly is it that you are some sort of amnesiac? Everybody else seemed to remember something of the lab, but you know very little about anything. Only thing you know about yourself is that you're the only vampire left and that you somehow led 15 people to lead a rebellion against hundreds, only to win. Quite the accomplishment.


You shake your head out of the otherwise uninteresting memory. If only Ragnor had a better memory then we could track the Professor down...

Other notes you've gathered on your 'apostles':

Ragnor, your second in command and easily the strongest fighter in Home. At least, in his beast-form. He couldn't care less for this garbage, but goes through it for the team.

Cecilia isn't bashful about expressing herself to you, though it's obvious she'd rather do it in private rather than discuss it with everybody else. Still, she realizes the importance of this for the younger of the group, so that's good.

Shamino is large and dopey, but he's really enthusiastic, which is great since something as silly as this needs the support.

Simon is probably around sixteen years old and has been expressing discontent up until now. He seems to have warmed up after a couple of sessions of whining.

Darla is still heartbroken over your ghoul's death. It's odd, but you never noticed that she and David were close. Then again, it's only now that you've really been acquainted with the Wolves. More personally, at least. Either way, she appears to be benefiting from the sessions.

Nordim remains passive throughout all the sessions. Seems to share a resentment of any sort of authority and shudders when the Professor is discussed.

Allen is extremely young, adolescent. He appears to idolize you and Ragnor, which gives you an impetus not to disappoint.

As for you yourself, well, you try your best to act like a leader, though you've come to get bored of the place. The workload builds up and you don't want to bother anybody with your troubles.

Somehow, you get the feeling that the Demon is somewhere out there-- the Professor lives. While you can't be certain of this, you simply feel the likelihood of something big happening any day now. And so you wait, praying for the day where you can take revenge on him  for what he did to you:  manipulating you and your brethren to hurt others-- without even knowing it! He used us as vessels for his own crimes, then left us out in the desert to be hunted down by the Zealots. The bastard will pay for what he did to us...