Snufflesneak House ((Open RP, part of Open Season))

It would be late at night; several days after the dead had been buried before anything unusual took place, yet when it did it would be unusual indeed.

All Saint’s Graveyard.

Those that had been killed in the awful attack had finally been laid to rest. Being of the same faith, it seemed only natural that they should be buried in the same graveyard. Now several days later something unusual happened, a dozen or so black vans drove up to the gates of the graveyard at one A.M in the morning. As a heavyset man began to unlock the gates, the van’s turned off their lights.

Or at least their visible lights, they drove into the graveyard using Blacklight* to illuminate the way. When they got to the new graves they stopped, the van doors sliding open and more men getting out. They moved with the nervous energy of the career criminal, and when they spoke it was with the mixed brogue common to those of the ‘Rogue Islands’.

“Team one keep dem eyes low. Team two be watching the skies, Team three you’re on grab duty” said a slight more professional looking man, he was even wearing a tie!

For the most part the men looked to be street toughs, simple low pay thugs, but clearly someone with money was backing them, the headsets they are wearing and the Blacklight goggles they are using to see by, is clearly cutting edge equipment.

They took position and waited.

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Gripped by panic, lost in the darkness, fingers tear at wood with desperation.
Much stronger than before, wood splinters and breaks, the heady scent of fresh soil begins to fill a tiny space.
Hands scrabble at dirt, desperate, clawing, claiming freedom.
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“Contact” Team one’s spotter said

A small figure dressed in funeral clothing, began to claw his out of his own freshly dug grave.

“Taking down” Team one’s shooter calmly confirmed.

As the freshly risen vampire blinked his new undead eyes, he gave a gasp as a long syringe impacted into his stomach, the plunger of which sank as its contents were pumped into his stomach. He gave a sound of strange pleasure, then his eyes rolled up and he fell over. The syringe’s contents?

Rich, warm human blood and enough sedatives to knockout a rhino.

Team three moved in, snatching the vampire’s unconscious form, and bundling him into the back of a van. The van began to drive back to the entrance, finally switching back to regular lights when it reached the road. Keeping to the traffic laws, to avoid suspicion as it drove with its cargo to some unknown destination.

The team’s resumed their watchful positions, waiting and ready for the next to rise...


*Blacklight is a particular type of light, that can not be picked up by normal humans, or most Earth species. However with the right equipment, or enhanced senses its possible to use it to see by.

Ocean Farm, Paragon City a few miles from the docks.

Like the businesses around it the Ocean Farm, fish processing factory was made of several blocky buildings surrounded by a chain link fence. The fence opened towards the road with a small security booth and barrier preventing access into the car park.

A black van drove down the deserted road, pausing at the gate house as the driver leaned out to chat to the slightly past his prime security guard. The barrier was raised, and the van drove into the factory ground, and up to the shutter door of the largest of the factories buildings, which appeared to be two floors tall rather than the squat single floor buildings around it.

The van stopped engine ticking over, as a thuggish looking man got out of the passenger seat, he unlocked the shutter, letting it rise up and the van drive into the building, before pulling it shoot again and locking it. Looking around, he moves a little out of the way of the wind, and lights up a cigarette, puffing away as he waits.

Yarg watched the man drive the van in. He waited for it for the shutter to be locked before moving. Getting past the securtiy gaurd had been easy, the old man could have been easily dispatched, but Yarg was a stealth agent and had no need of such techniques. He didnt fully understand what a fishing company would have to do with the meat doctors or their death dealing works, but if they were innocent, then the meat doctors would certainly pay for lying to him.

He moved silently, heading for the buildings interior.

Yarg moved towards thesound of the freezers. If what the meat doctors had said was right, the freezers were a good place to look for clues. Yarg moved without a sound, keeping slow to make sure not to slide on the ice. His demonic features contorted in concentration, he kept his nose open for any hint of rotting flesh, and his ears open for any sound that might mean an ambush. He believed it may have been a good idea to check the Van, bu decided it was unlikely to be going anywhere for a little while and he didnt want to be caught by the gaurd early on.

Yarg moved to the frozen door. He hated the smell of cleaners in the room and covers his face with one hand to stop it burning his nose. He picked up a fish laying on the slab examined it as he moved up to the door. He through it aside and began to attempt to prise the frozen door open.

The doors slides open with a slight forward lean that speaks of it being slammed open one time too many.

A white mist leaves the door, a trace amount of fog caused by the sudden difference in air temperatures, beyond is a large room, the corners of which have piles of ice, clearly it had been scrapped from the floor and just piled in the corners where it had frozen even harder. The air smells of salt water, and cold, like the arctic.

A series of metal shelves dominate most of the room, forming a series of isles, little plastic signs attached to them gave the names of types of fish, different cuts and different types of shell fish, above these signs were dark blue plastic boxes.

Connected to the roof are several vast blocks of metal and fans, which drone loudly and incessantly as they blast the room with ice cold air.

"Filthy friggin manky garbage" Hellskiller muttered to himself, still slumped in the shadows. He peered up hazily to see the van driver squinting in his direction, brandishing a pistol. The drunken detective remained sprawled on the floor, feigning unconsciousness the best he could.

The Graveyard

Jack could smell the scents in the air as he approached the gravesite. Freshly-turned earth, where no bodies had been buried for days. Exhaust fumes, where no vehicles were supposed to be. Preservatives and funereal perfumes, where the corpses should be well underground.

Jack's methods had steered him right, though he'd been sure this was a dead end. He moved forward, silent and almost invisible, examining the midnight goon squad and their vehicles. Judging by the tracks in the dirt, a fourth van had been and gone. All very neat and professional; much like how any right-thinking vampire with decent resources would retrieve their newest spawn.

Would, if they were prepared to break with vampire traditions about turning children. And most vampires were traditionalists to a fault. Perhaps the Countess was getting a little too big for her boots? Jack certainly hoped so. It would make things a lot easier.

He moved into a position with a good vantage point, and waited for the next vehicle to be loaded.

Yarg heard the bottle smash outside and looked around, peering at the loom to see if he had been discovered. He shivered and made his way towards the noise, heading for the roof to get a better look. He moved quickly incase he missed something, and arrived to see the van driver stood over a homeless drunk. Yarg took his chance and dropped down behind the Van driver, his dark claws extending as his hit the ground soundlessly, towering up behind the man, bringing himself up to his full 8 foot height.

The demonic looking Yarg growled at the man and breathed right into his face. "no it dont boy, i know that one for a fact, so how about you tell me who really owns this place? and one more word bout it belonging to the Countess and i'll make you hurt". Yarg's breath stank of rotting meat and fish, and made perfect use of this. In the dark, Yarg looked monstrous and smelt as bad, his twin sets of claws scrapping the alley's walls.

“You don’t believe me?” the man snorted slightly.

"The factory is just a front, the important thing is under it" as he spoke there was a beep of a vehicle horn from behind the shutters.



The fact that if he messed this up he was a dead man, even if he escaped from the demon, gave him a certain feeling of manic bravado, that carried across to his words and attitude.

“Tell you what, when the next van arrives, you can have a guided tour of the school.” he offered

Yarg began to laugh queitly but darkly, raising his claws up. "i had hoped you would try to decieve me again, now i get to play with your human body" Yarg grinned for a moment. "and I dont believe you, because the Countess sent me here to find out just who is trying to frame her. Now one last chance to tell me who owns this place, or I make you wish you had told me, because no matter what your bosses threaten you with, I can do so much worse". With this Yarg snapped his jaw right infront of the man's face, his sharp teeth making cracking sounds as visible fish bones broke under the pressure.

Yarg smiled and put his claws away again. "good boy, ow get out of here, Bathory wants the packages moved to new coordinates, heroes will be moving here soon and she dont want it traced back to her". Yarg hands him a piece of paper with an address written on it. "spread the word, the packages get moved to this locale, quick as, you hear?"

Yarg disappeared again, climbing up the walls of the alley back to the roof, heading for the loading bay.