The Fangs of the Carpathians

"I believe you. I think I still have bruises from the last time we sparred. Years ago." Mike replied with a chuckle, holding out the bottle for her to take. "One booze, coming right up."

"I bet you are." Replied Brandon as he skewered a few marshmallows for he and Meagen. "Anyway, Andrei told me his pop used to tell him this stuff to keep him from wandering into the woods at night. I can't blame him for listening either, the man's scary as shit, I met him once. Sort of. He's like six and a half feet tall at least and looks like he's made out of sweat, blood, and bricks. Thickest, gruff accent you can imagine when he's speaking English. Well, I think he speaks it- all I've heard him say was 'hello.'" Said Brandon as he pulled his Marshmallow back, blowing on it before popping it in his mouth, foregoing the chocolate or gram crackers. "Creepy name too- Grigor or some intense shit like that." He said between chews of the charred, sticky delight.

"Anyway, yeah, it went something like this. I'm not much of a story teller, but, I'll give it a shot." Said Brandon, leaning in towards the fire. "It begins long, long time ago- a time when men fought against beasts for their right to live, when he praised and venerated dark spirits and foul deities, when he cowered behind rocks or around the light of fires, fearful of what waited in the dark of night. In these early nights, the world was grim, dark, and bloody- sacrifice and tribute staved off droughts or floods, and learned men dabbled in dark things they knew nothing of. And so when man transgressed against his gods, he was damned. Properly, too. For the damned were truly damned. They were hollow men with shriveled guts, and dead spared only from decay. They were made this way through blood- and blood sustained them. They could not make their own. And so they were forced to steal it. Without it, they would wither, waste away to ashes. But these beasts were incomplete. For all their dark deeds, their foul needs, and their depraved actions, they thought of themselves as human. Creatures of knowledge, of virtue. Of conscious. It was a debilitating weakness. They had no urge to hunt, no desire to kill, even though the blood of the living was the only thing to stave off their desiccation. The blood tasted like rust and copper in their mouths, and those they loved turned away the beasts they had become. They were cursed."

"One of their kind- a, formerly, pious man and loving father, sought to end his suffering, resigning to wander off into the depths of the woods and shrivel away to nothing, never to harm his offspring or that of any others. He could not find it within himself to end his own life by his own actions- he found himself hiding from the sun's light in dank burrows dug by hand, or the dens of animals. He grew filthy, and hungry, and bloodied, as his starvation and torment drove him mad. He trudged onward through the forest, mocked by the life around him- birds flitted above his matted head, deer bolted from his accursed presence, even the green leaves of the trees seemed to arc out of his path as they softly danced towards the ground. His crimson life poured out from the cuts in his flesh, and he finally succumbed to his weakness, falling prostrate on the ground before the base of a large, black tree, weeping tears of red that washed down his sullied cheeks and into the dirt. In the forest full of life, the skeletal corpse of the tree was the only dead thing; save the man."

"He wept, and sobbed, and worked his dry lips against the dusty earth, taking it into his mouth as if it would sustain him. And above him, in the towering, wicked, black tree at which he fell, they watched his pathetic form writhe and shiver on the ground. They watched without pity, or remorse, or fear, or compassion, or love or hate or anything one might feel towards the wretched beast wallowing in the ashen soil below their perch. They simply watched. For that is what they do. Curious, are the Birds of Dis. The man, in the painful throws of his demise, turned his head, looking up with one eye at the heinous parliament perched above him. His eyes fixed on the dark, shadowy forms staring down at him with glowing yellow eyes. His lips cracked, and throat scratched, but he whispered out one final plea. 'Help,' he begged of the strix. And so, they did."

"The foul covey took flight, and descended upon the man, black smoke and thick shadows pouring into his mouth, eyes, ears- it was a great pain, and an even greater pleasure. They entered him utterly, filling his deepest crevices with darkness and forcing a lingering shadow into the empty pockets and spaces of his damned soul. Their perch in his being corrupted him, and they fled from him, leaving pits, and holes, and cavities, and little bits of themselves where once there was nothing. The man pushed himself to his feet, his tongue passing over the sharp points of bestial fangs. He stood, slowly, and gazed up at the black, undulating flock of smoke, shadows, beaks and talons. A hunger welled up within him, his fists clenched and knuckles white, nails digging into his palm, whereas they now desired to gash the flesh of others. The once pious man, not for the first time, craved the lifeblood of the living- but for the first time, he sought it out, a feral, infernal drive within him. The birds looked down on him in silence, the sound of a million screeching striges echoing through his mind, speaking to him."

"We are your beast- we are the want, and we are the need. We are the desire that tempers your denial. We are the truth that refutes your lie. You are no longer human, and so, you must no longer act as human. Spoke the birds. And upon hearing this, the man cried out and wept- he wept of fear, and shame, and joy, and fulfillment. He turned to leave, damned to hunt the offspring of men and drink the blood of babes and maidens, and worst of all, damned to enjoy it. As he staggered off into the wilderness, the voices in his head continued. This is our gift to you. Do not disappoint us." Retold Brandon, smirking as he leaned back, content with his rendition of the tale.

Evee sat with a full bottle in her hands, not a single sip taken, "And you said you weren't a storyteller... Sheesh." She shuddered, taking a drink from trembling hands. Her cheeks went white, "That's not adrenaline, that's just... Creepy."

Mike shivered a little, then extended his hands towards the fire. "Hell yeah that's creepy. Now I'm kind of glad a brought my gun. Shit Brandon, your buddy's dad told him that as a kid."

Brandon chuckled a bit, putting his arm around the similarly shaken Meagen. "Apparently so. The big bad kung-fu black belt thinks she'd meet her match with the living dead?" He asked, chuckling a bit.

Ken threw his duffel bag into the seat, then flopped down next to it. He stretched his arm, yawning as he did so. It had been a rough trip here. "Too many transfers..." He muttered to himself. He'd got up at around 4 o'clock this morning, had to call and wake up his brother, explain what he had to do all week, pack everything he needed, rush out the door, get on his flight, and now he's stuck in this clunky old bus. This day was hell. Why was he here again? He needed a week off. He really didn't feel like listening about Samantha and her baby.

He slipped his phone out his pocket, and sifted through his contacts until he came across Mike's. He tapped the small green circle, and held it up to his ear. He probably wouldn't meet up with everybody for about.... 2 hours.

Evee stuck out her tongue, "It's not kung-fu, it's mixed martial arts. Kung fu is just one of them. No need to simplify..." she pouted to herself.

((Well, I'm back. Looking at a couple months of healing and physical therapy, but, oh well. I'm kind of confused with your post though, Raghot- the others are already at the mountaintop. Did he just miss their bus the others were on, or...?))

"Same thing." Brandon said, dismissing it as he clasped a pair of graham crackers around another toasty marshmallow, then handing the smore to Meagen.

"I wouldn't test her, Bran- its not the same thing, but I bet she could knock you out all the same. From what I've seen, this girl is Bruce Lee incarnate." Replied Mike, chuckling a bit as he looked to her. "At least she was last time I checked." He challenged teasingly, his eyes drifting down to the bottle. "So, you gonna drink that or what?"

"Hey guys... what's that?" Asked Meagen, mouth half full of sticky smore while she nodded her head to the forest behind them, off the edge of the summit. In the clear moonlight, a thick, billowing tower of smoke was rising into the air, a decent ways off. The ivory pillar wafted slightly in the evening breeze, but could be easily traced back to its origin- there was a clearing out in the distance, which was not there before, with a large flame situated in the center. The fire was huge it seemed, but the diameter of the clearing was larger. It didn't seem to be burning away at the woods, so it being a forest fire seemed unlikely.

Evee started to respond with a joke of her own, but was quickly distracted by the smoke, "Probably more campers. It's a big forest, you know."

Mike stood up, moving to go look over the edge at the large blaze. "Yeah... it is. But that's a big fire, if we're seeing it from here. Like burning building big." He said, watching the eerie flame before turning back towards the group. "Fuck it. Can't check it out 'til morning anyway." He said, moving to sit down next to Evee again, reaching towards the bottle. "Care to share?"

"You're paranoid, dude. There's about to be one of the biggest music festivals in Europe in a week or two. We're not gonna be the only ones out here." Reasoned Brandon as he tossed his roasting stick into the fire, leaning into Meagan as his arm went around her.

"Yeah. You're probably right." Admitted Mike.

Evee passed the bottle over, "Here. Maybe we should check it out in the morning."

"Maybe." Replied Mike, taking the bottle and taking a swig out of the liquor.

The group enjoyed an nice calm evening for the most part, everyone falling asleep without interruption, the strange fire in the distance offering no insomnia to anyone. The next morning, they woke and packed their camp up, taking their time to descend the mountain face back to the road below. When they returned to the town, it was barren- random bits of trash or other items were dropped in the streets, and the lights and televisions of some homes were still on and broadcasting.

The group of friends stood near the center of the town, Mike pacing a bit. "What the fuck man? What happened here? Where is everybody, this is creepy as hell."

Evee cupped her hands around the glass window paines, looking inside, "There's no one here. Surely the whole town didn't vanish over night." she looked back to Mike, "If you're playing a joke, it isn't funny."

"Well they're definitely not here! What the hell is going on?" Meagen asked, obviously frightened. Brandon walked up to her, putting his arm around her.

Mike looked very confused as well, looking around the town as if expecting someone to step out. Brandon spoke up, a grim tone in his voice. "I don't think this is a joke. The whole town's gone."

Mike shoved his arm into the air, phone clasped in his hand. "Of course it's not a joke! How could I do this?" He asked, looking at the group before returning his gaze to his phone. "Shit. Still no signal. Anyone else?" He asked. Both Brandon and Meagen checked their phones, nodding in a negative reply.

"Well, the bus should come by around six PM." Said Mike, lowering his head as he slowly looked back over at the road. "If there's still a bus..."

Evee peered down the long road, "We could try to walk back? How far is the next town over?

Mike grimaced, finally lowering his phone in a somber motion. "Its like, uh... one hundred and fifty kilometers? What is that in miles." Asked Mike as he looked around the group.

"Too many." Said Meagen, her displeasure thick in her voice.

Brandon frowned, looking around the town. "The people are gone- there stuff isn't. I bet there's a car around here somewhere. If the bus doesn't come... maybe we could get one of those to run?" He suggested.

Evee nodded, "I can help look. I'm not a mechanic by any means, but they've only been here for a day, tops. Surely the cars still run."

Brandon nodded at her, taking her up on the offer for help.

They had no luck in finding any vehicles- anything they did find was in disrepair, far to gone to put into working order without moderate knowledge with mechanics. Thankfully enough, after a few eerie hours of waiting in the desolate town, the bus did in fact show up at the stop about mile up the road. The walk to the bus stop to check was an unnerving one, with more than one member of the group peaking over their shoulder or into the trees lining the narrow road. Once they got on the bus, both Mike and Brandon argued and pleaded with the driver, but they were anything but fluent in the native tongue- he just shouted at them, and ushered them to the back. The group sat mostly together, only about eight other people in the hulking bus.

"Okay, its all right guys, we're headed back to Brasov- we can tell the authorities there, we can get someone that speaks English." Mike said, leaning back in his seat and sighing deeply. "I'm so fucking relieved the bus came..."

Brandon nodded, agreeing. "Yeah... I was afraid we were gonna be stuck there over night. I would have just climbed up that damn mountain again."

Meagen leaned into Brandon, seeking comfort in his supporting frame. "You saw that big fire in the woods... do you think that might have something to do with it?"

Evee shrugged, "I dunno. It's all giving me the creeps."

Despite the occasional pothole, the bus ride went rather smoothly for the first stretch. Soon enough the sun had set, and the bus was working its way around a mountain, a rocky, vertical precipice to one side of the narrow road with a steep incline on the other, dropping off to the woods far below. Suddenly, the bus began to slow, coming to a stop before the horn began to blare. The driver began to shout and motion with his hands, growing agitated with something on the road apparently.

Evee poked her head up, interested in the commotion.

Mike stood up in the center aisle, taking a few steps forward, eyes squinting as he stopped and peered out the front of the bus. "What the fuck..." He mumbled mostly to himself.

In the center of the road a woman stood, her hair in matted dreads, chalky white and red paint adorning her sparsely-clad, pallid body. Her hips and thighs were covered in a thick, tribal-looking skirt of furs and leathers, her top bare besides a complex necklace made of strange and jagged animal bones that stretched to her navel. As Michael Rook watched in confused awe, the woman lifted her right hand, and then did a motion resembling a chop directed at the bus.

A dull thudding sound resounded to the right of the bus, stones knocking against the road. Suddenly, two or so dozen figures dressed similarly to the woman skidded down the steep cliff on the side. They shouted and jeered in some strange, guttural tongue, knocking themselves against the side of the bus and pushing against it with their hands. The bus began to rock back and forth, baggage falling from the overhead racks as the driver began to panic. Meagen screamed a high pitched, shrill scream and Mike fell to the floor with a yell.

Evee braced herself on the seats, looking to her companions for some answer.

With a loud, eerie lurch, the painted maniacs pushed the bus past the point of no return- there was a bit of a creak as it raised up on its two left wheels, paused in the air, then finished tipping to the left, crushing the guard rail with the horrid sound of metal wrenching against metal. The bus flipped, rolling off of the edge of the road and beginning to tumble down the side of the mountain while those that tipped it cheered and hollered from the road above.

Glass shattered and luggage tumbled about while the occupants were thrown around the cabin of the bus, smashing against the seats and roof while the metal cylinder rolled roughly down the mountain. After what felt like an eternity, the dark, grassy ground rushed up at the bus as it came to smash into it, jarring all that remained within.

Mike was thrown from the bus, and landed about twenty or so feet away. He blinked slowly as he came to, ears ringing but still picking up the distinct sounds of chaos. His eyes slowly focused to see the bus resting on its side, beat to hell with the engine block smoking. His fingers groped at the grass as he tried to lift himself to his feet, feeling rather beat up but nothing too broken. He looked ahead, paling as he saw Meagen's screaming, flailing torso- she was covered by the bus from her belly-button down, and was echoing haggard, shrill screams. Brandon was by her side, somewhat bloodied but obviously panicked, trying to move the bus or calm the girl. And then he saw them.

Following after a few tumbling rocks, the men that had tipped the bus came skidding down the side of the cliff, making their way down to pick through the wreckage. They were nearly to the ground.

Evee somehow stayed inside the rolling vehicle, battered and bruised, likely broken by the numerous projectiles. Barely conscious, she didn't even realize that she was screaming in pain, full of glass and bloody.

Mike pulled himself to his feet with a grunt, goading himself forward as his head swam. He was likely concussed. He swayed back and forth for his first couple of steps before stopping, retching a bit of vomit due to the overwhelming situation and dizzying injuries. He looked around and saw a few of the other passengers, and Meagen and Brandon, but Evee was no where in site. "Evee?! Eveeee?!" He called as he stumbled towards the bus, passing the weeping Brandon and progressively less responsive Meagen while stepping through the gaping emergency latch.

Mike found Evee in a pile of glass and luggage, resting half on his bag. He grabbed it and swung it around his shoulder, then tenderly cradled Evee's torso, trying to nurse her back to her feet. "C'mon, get up, get up... we gotta go, fuck, Evee, please get up..." He mumbled and gibbered, quite shaken, trying to pull her from the wreck.

She coughed a bit, likely only from her breathlessness, crying with every slight motion, arms and legs damned near useless. But, she was alive, at least for now.