The Ultimate Vampire Resource and Directory

"What a shitty day." the stranger murmured to himself as he exhaled heavy cloud of smoke and steam in the cold weather. Flicking the the last of his cigarette off into the dark bushes on the side of the long ruddy path.



Pulling the heavy black scarf over his face, the smell of old mothballs and blood fills his nose. Pulling the long and heavy leather coat tight around himself. As he stepped forward bracing himself against the cold and bitter wind he draws lifts the jackets hood up over his head.



Thrusting his hands deep into his pockets and leaning into the freezing wind the stranger continues push forward to destinations unknown. The crunch his boots made against the ground was unnaturally loud, yet somehow sounded distant. The faint rattle of loose steel concealed under his coat so perfectly was barely audible even to the very man carrying them.



His long strides continued to carry him deeper and deeper into the darkness. With each step the woods around him, the path before him, and the starless sky grew blacker and blacker.



Step. Crunch. Step. Crunch



Darker and darker.



Just as the world around him seemed that it could get no blacker, the wind stopped, all sounds became muffles, and the faint glow of lantern light through dirty windows. With each footfall he drew closer and closer to the mysterious tavern. As he closed the distance to the heavy wooden door the pale shimmer of a full moon began to hang in the sky. His hand reached for the door, the emerging moon phased into full relief casting a silver light across the entrance. There on the door an engraved relief of that very moon.



Stepping into the tavern the black iron lanterns cast a dull orange light around the room. The rafters and corners filled heavy shadows. The smell of spilled and stale ale and other spirits hung heavy in the air.



Wait..... There's a another smell present, faint, metallic, and old. The underlying stench of blood and death causes a low deep chuckle to escape his throat. Pulling the scarf from his mouth. The thick, dark, braided beard fell loose as wry and devilish grin spread across his lips baring slightly stained teeth.



Stepping forward, working his way to the bar the stranger opens his coat, the silver handle of a broad sword glints in the light the rough Nordic runes carved in the steel appear as shadows. The stranger pulls up a stool at the bar, the grin intensifying.



"Honey I"m home!" He thought to himself. Finally he has made it to the Dark Tavern, finally the viking has made it home.

It's miserable time of day in a dreary part of the world our loan author sits staring at this screen. What should he be writing here he wonders aloud to himself. His restless legs shift, twitch, and bounce while the worn leather combat boots make dull tapping sounds on the hard plastic beneath his chair. His third, or maybe it's his fourth cup of coffee sits steaming on his desk.



"Gotta keep awake" he mutters to himself as the day drones on and on.



Taking a long drink from his cup filling his mouth with what is surely the nectar of the gods, or at least a good substance that ensure the safety of those around him. He leans back in the stiff office chair slyly and carefully pulling a lungful of the Dragon's Kiss from an industrial looking device. The magic possessed within the silver chunk of metal is only ensured by beautiful engraving of Thor's hammer and Nordic runes. Exhaling a heavy cloud of a sweet smelling vapor he sighs. Placing his finger on the key board he finally decided what to write. The words that he wishes those to read and know him for. His fingers dance across the keyboard a quick series of clicking sounds can be heard throughout his empty office as those very self defining words of literature appear on the screen. As he finishes he stares at this master piece he has composed. Those glorifying words read:



I LIKE TACOS.