You push the button on the walkie-talkie, and speak into it. "Hello?"

Moments pass. After several more crackles you get a response. A cool female voice speaks out, "Sebastian? Seargent, is everything alright?" British?

Kelso shoots you a sideways glance. You can almost feel him sending you a message with his eyes. Be creative, you call the shots for now.

You blink. Ahem, "I have spotted some of the err, creations."

"Well of course you have." Matter of fact tone. "We've known where the devils that are the Wolves have been for a while now. We just need to strike them. Which reminds me, we should get back to base."

Perfect. Ish. "No! The, uh, lord helped me and I found others."

"Others? What do you mean?"

"There are other Creations that have escaped aside from the, uh, wolves, and-"

The woman on the other side is excited, "More?"

"Um, only one. That I found, at least. But one is one too many. I uh, need backup."

"Stop stuttering, Sebastian. This is important. Where are you? Now searching it up..." Pause. "Your GPS tracker hasn't been functioning for a couple of days. That's probably why security has tightened around the City. Where the hell are you?"

Shit. "Well, uh, the battery died and, uh, things happened."

"Things? Sebastian, I... Did it take you hostage?"

You've decided you like her voice. "It?"

She lowers her voice, "What is your general location, Sebastian? We'll find you. You'll be safe."

You pause, looking to Kelso for help. To tell the truth, you have no idea where you are. Kelso looks the other way. You sigh, annoyed at him. Maybe he's just a bit offended that your plan was better. Or not.

"I..."
> You continue on, yourself.
You lower your voice, "I... not sure. We're in some sort of house. Lots of sand."

No reply. You click it off.

Kelso nods in seeming approval. "It'll do. Let's just hope they underestimate one Creation and send only a couple soldiers. They are tasked to deal with the unknown. I got lucky with 'Sebastian'; the foolish Zealot wandered out alone."

---

Your mentor and youself make your way to a particularly large sand-dune near the house, watching for incoming Zealots from the city ahead.

It doesn't too long-- after several minutes you begin to notice flashing armors marching in the moonlight. Your house is a surprisingly straight line to the city, and you notice some lights, formed in clusters, moving straight in your direction. Others seem to be coming in on a flank, moving to the left and right of the city before circling in, near your location. None are too close though, which gives time for Kelso to count them all.

"Five groups of five in all, with the Church having only a slight notion where we are and us having the element of surprise."

"You think that's good odds? From what it seems, they likely no more about what we can do then what we know they can."

"Not we, you. I fought Zealots before the facility was destroyed, you know. Even if they've grown considerably, they're still the fear-mongering, symbolic fools as ever. With enough force their armor can be clawed through, only thing you have to worry about is silver and their lightning rifles."

"Sounds fun." You chuckles out nervously, "Silver bullets and lightning rifles?"

"Ah yes, silver is specifically harmful to us, for whatever reason. It is very pure... and the only thing that will stop us from regenerating, thankfully though, I don't think they've caught on to that just yet. The shock-troops they send in are equipped with monstrous bayonets that shoot out streams of electrons at high velocity, which are scarily painful..." He notices your frown, and smiles in return, "But it's healable. And I think we can do it."

You nod, "Not if their flanks succeeds. We need to either split up and fight the ones coming on the side or take the clusters on together."

"No question, we should fight together. Splitting up may make this go faster and more efficiently, but it's dangerous enough that it won't be worth it. Together, we can capture one of them as well as efficiently annihilate the groups one by one."

You nod back, assured. Kelso may retain information, but he's never lied to you. You think.

This brings your mind back to the incoming horde of Zealots,  which are less than a mile away by now, marching tirelessly, not exactly in your direction, but close enough...

"So, who do you think we should take on first?"
> You zealots on a side.
"Let's start on a side and move on from there. We can't let their flank be affective." Your mentor nods. "There was a reason why I saved you, even if I didn't realize it at the time."

"Which is...?"

"You're smart."

You'd blush if could, you like compliments, "No, the reason why you got me in the first place."

"You'll find out at some point."

You both laugh. Kelso drops information every once in a while, and at some point you want to just have several hours with him to discuss everything. Was the world always like this? What happened to it? What is my purpose? And on and on.

By now the collection of lights are nearing, so you stop chatting with your master and turn your attention to them. Keeping your head close to the ground and sneaking to the right, you prepare to overtake the group of five on that side. Your mind flashes back to your training in the training you did with Kelso in the dunes. You try your best to channel your anger while you run, Kelso behind, at the Zealots.

Why should I hate the Church? Your mind answers. Because they hate me for what I am. The man called Sebastian called me a 'demon'; I'm not that. I know I'm not that. But they will crucify me if they can. And I won't let them do that to myself or Kelso.

With your mind settled on some sort rage, you vent it with your sprinting, reaching the Zealots quick enough. They're big people, the C.E. Soldiers. Stygian black metal overlays their entire bodies, with an obvious group leader with a different helmet (with horns, like a medieval knight's would have.) The rest have a simplistic SWAT-team-like helmet with a visor. The most notable part of their ensemble is their heavily tusked rifles, which take up both of their arms, if only to carry the heavy block of metal. You assume that that's the thing that Kelso mentioned; the lightning bayonets. 'That, and their lit cross on the chest, flashing on and off. Thankfully, they don't seem to notice you, yet. Their heavy metal probably restricts them of that.

You pay little attention to where Kelso is, and you angrily lash out on the leader, leaping from over eight meters away from the ground. While in the air, you let your claws grow out and you come onto the huge black being's chest, and sink your claws into him, through the weak parts of his armor. Wet, sticky blood pours out, and you messily continue to clutch onto him while he tries to shoot you off with his tusked-bayonet. He manages to shoot up wards once or twice before slumping to the ground, the Other Zealots probably pissing their pants at this point. You roar at them, jumping off the corps of their leader and sending a heavy-fisted slash at a close one that is unbashfully trying to use hiw walkie-talkie. The hand you send clunks off of his helmet, but the heavy crunch you feel from it obviously means you broke his neck.

While you were busy with two, Kelso (still unseen) has done fine work with the remaining three, his body half-transformed into something... Animalistic. With hairy, muscular arms and sharp teeth he overpowers them easily, ripping heads off at insane speeds, to the point that you're convinced that you imagined part of it. After several lightning flashes from the last one, Kelso's new body soaks up the energy from it and grabs the Zealot, throwing him to the floor. Now, all that remains are you and your mentor. You hungrily sink your teeth into a nearby combatant, reinvigorating yourself. Kelso morphs back, seeming tired, and takes a helping from one of them. After only ten seconds, he grabs you to stop with him.

"That's one group down. There are three more groups to annihilate, two to the left (what used to be the middle) and the third which is standing back, way over to the left. I'll assume we're moving on to the middle?"
> You continue to the middle.
"Indeed, the middle-men are next."

Two groups of hulking Zealots stand between you and the other. They know you're there, and the element of surprise isn't yours anymore. Worse yet, Kelso seems to have used up whatever the hell that transformation was. Still, you're confident that Kelso and you can tackle on the fifteen Zealots left over,

You see them aiming their blockish weapons at you, and charge. Two leaders... You look to Kelso, and he nods. You take one, and he takes the other.

As they move forward with their tusks, streaks of bright green at you. You quickly move to the side, allowing for some to take mercy and miss, but one or two manage to land on your armor, causing it to heat up...

Kelso manages to dodge every single one shot at him, and runs up ahead of you to disarm the Zealots shooting at you. While your metallic armor sizzles, you do your best to throw it off you and follow-up with Kelso before they reload and shoot again. Kelso jumps into the air, swinging his foot down on one of the head-Zealots-head. It doesn't take him out, but it stuns  him long enough for Kelso to throw him at the other line of Zealots, and proceed to restlessly break their weapons by punching it. The Zealots try to fight him, but your mentor doesn't give up.

Meanwhile, you quickly sweep the other Head's feet from under him during the confusion of Kelso's utter... coolness and fluidity in combat.  You stomp your sneakers on it's neck; the crack is all you needed to hear.

More bright streaks. You see the remaining six Soldiers trying to surround him and put him down, not paying as much attention to you. In return for their disrespect, you bring both of your hands to your sides, and begin a large tackle at the horde surrounding your master. Your rage-fueled push causes you to bleed (you're slamming your arms onto cold metal, remember) but pushes them all on top of eachother, all scarmbling to get up.

Kelso manages to get out of the huddle of Zealots, and picks up one of the bayonets, and begins spiking the clunky radicals. More, deliciously red blood squirts out, and you follow suit by taking your own bayonet. Now, only one group left.

Five fearful Zealots pitifully trying to snipe at both of you. But it's obvious who will win this fight, in your eyes.
> You finish off the bastards on the left.
You continue to finish the ones trying to attack you. It is a quick fight, considering. Kelso rushes ahead, jumping up and using the butt of his new bayonet to whack the head-Zealot of this group over the head, not snapping his eck but at the very least knocking him out.

With blood-lust, you manage to bring up the hulking weapons to shoot lightning at one the group at point-blank, causing him to scream as his own armor boiled him. The others, no doubt bewildered by many things at the current moment, try their best to survive in various ways.

One continues struggling, actually managing to spear Kelso and shoot at the same time, only to find Kelso laugh, bring his arms back and snap the man's neck before getting out of the tusks.

One calls out to his god. In turn you gutted him with your rifle, piercing his armor like a can-opener.

And one from the other side of the battle-field, that you obviously didn't kill correctly, gets up to flee back to the city. Even he didn't get a break. Kelso, with uncanny familiarity with the rifle, shoots him in the back. The flashing Zealot slumps over, dead.

The fight ends there, and Kelso puts his hand on your back as you walk to the unconscious head-Zealot of the Left-group.

"So, what do we do with him?" You ask, warily, "The Church will probably send more of it's operatives to subdue us."

"Doubt it. The head-honchos in the Church are probably terrified right now. More Creations in addition to 'The Wolves' are definitely not what they wanted. Still, you're right. We need to find a new place, but only after we find out where the Wolves are, and subdue them."

"You still think they know where the Professor is?"

He looks at you, pondering, "Unsure. If they do, then we'll have to fight them. Which is doable, with your newfound talents." He points to bloody undergarments, "But if they hate the Professor as much as we do then we can join forces. Well, you might. I might have to leave soon."

You frown. "Why?"

"Ha, don't worry kid. I might not have to, but if I do I'll make sure you're ready to fend for your self."
> You loot the bodies and proceed to interrogate the Zealot.
Shrugging the thought of not having Kelso around, you collect the armors of the Zealots, turning the flash off and equipping them. They won't save you from everything, but they will certainly make you physical attacks stronger, if only because they're reinforced by cold metal. You wear everything but the helmet, since you like having your vision unrestricted. Kelso does similarly, putting on the armor, leggings, and boots. You also decide to take one of the undamaged rifles; good weapons, and more effective on humans than on Creations, ironically.

After the slight diversion, you bring your attention to the rousing Zealot. Kelso points him out to you to deal with. With a cruel smile, you walk over to him, bringing your gauntleted hand to his armored helmet, and begin to squeeze.

That wakes him up.

He cries in agony, as his helmet soon becomes a 'custom-fit' of sorts. With your one hand, you pick him up by his face, and just hold him in mid-air. "Kelso, are we just interrogating him here or somewhere else?"

"Here's fine."

You shrug, and drop the Zealot on the floor. He groans in pain, bringing hands to his face to try to take off his helmet; he couldn't do it. "Tell you what, if I take off your new skullcap if you tell me where the other Creations are."

He looks up pitifully, nodding. Carefully... You peel off the horned helmet from his visage.

"You killed Sebastian, didn't you!" Is the first thing that erupts from his lips. That, and some spit. You back hand him, bloodying his face further and causing him to fall back onto the sand.

"Location, now. Or you end up having a worse fate than Sebastian."

The dark haired Zealots looks at you with menacing eyes, "I don't consort with demons. I will die with honor."

"That's not what you were saying when your face was in a can." You laugh, and Kelso gets on one knee, beckoning closer to him.

"You can become one of us, if you like. Be one of the damned, and survive the hell that is God's world. Just lead us to where the so-called 'Wolves' are."

"I won't sell out that easy, demon. Sebastian was a brother before you bastards killed him!" The agitated cripple would be somewhat intimidating if he wasn't in such a pathetic situation.

"Then it's time you became family." Kelso looks at you. "Try ghouling him."

Your eyes widen, "What do you mean, 'ghoul'?"

"Drink from him until he has only the minimum amount of blood he needs. He'll become one of us. Well, half. He'll also follow our commands in that state. For the first couple of days. An eternal slave." Your mentor grins. The Zealot, however, is horrified.

"No, don't! Don't drink from me, I'll get you to the Wolves, I promise! I'll even tell you when the Church is to attack their base. Everything, just don't turn me into one of you! Stop!"

Oh, so very tempting. But kind of... Evil, is it? Is there even a line anymore, after what I've done? Kindness will only hurt you at this point, and a side-kick if Kelso ever leaves is tempting...
> You ghoul him.
Curious, and perhaps a wee bit thirsty, you motion to the Zealot. "What's your name?"

"David." He spits, "Why?"

"Because your new name is... Slave." His eyes widen in horror as you sink your teeth into his soft and milky flesh, this time getting it on the artery. The blood squirts down your throat, and the high that you get is unimaginable. Sweet and slightly sour blood, like apple-juice. The euphoria you get is uplifting, and you feel... Happy. Power surges through your veins, and your stomach does happy somersaults as it absorbs all the nutrients from the Zealot's warrior-blood, and you continue chewing on his neck, trying to get as much as you can from this man before he falters. Just sublime...

"Goddammit kid, your mother must have been some sort of an abuser." Kelso says with a chuckle, pulling you away. "But I think that' enough drinking, your new slave is deathly pale, but still breathing, albeit very slowly and inconsistently-- a sign that you've drunk just enough." He points out, "But hats off to you kid, you've got yourself a ghoul."

You both stand, waiting for your slave to wake. The pale Zealot opens his eyes back up, a glossy look to them. He doesn't speak, but instead lazily lets saliva and a red substance that likely is blood ooze out from the side of his mouth.

Nervously, you command him, "Lead us to the Wolves hideout." He lazily tries to get up, only to fall back down again. "Now." Firm. He gets up, straight this time. With uncoordinated steps he begins to march, stumbling through the sand and skin beginning to redden from the sun. You shrug, and follow your new ghoul. By the time you pass the City the trek is already nearly over. You take another left from there, then a turn to the right... And soon Kelso directs you and your new slave to stop.

"This," he begins, "is where I take my leave."

"What?" You exclaim, "Why now? Didn't you say that the other Creations might be on the Professor's side?"

Kelso tilts his head to the side, "The longer I think about it, the less it makes sense. But I've been worried about something, and I'm nigh certain I'm correct on this."

"What do you mean?"

Your mentor walks to your ghoul, tugging at his armor's sleeve to get attention, "You, David, what does the Church know about Simon Kurschner?" Who?

The slave replies in monotone, "Can't be found or traced. Not among Creations, unknown if even still alive."

You raise an eyebrow, "Who's this Kurschner?"

"The Professor." Comes the reply from Kelso.

"But I thought our plan was to see if the other Creations know where the Professor is? Which could mean that they still serve him. Or not."

"Exactly. If the Church has no idea of his whereabouts, then it's unlikely the Wolves have something definite either. Even though the Wolf and I have had our  arguments, I still trust him enough to give you vacancy while I search for the Professor."

"So where are you going?"

"Anywhere. The world left is just a desert, and traveling by night only will waste time, which is why we have t split for the moment." Kelso frowns, and holds out his hand to shake.

You firmly grasp it, "Then stay safe, Master. I trust you will return soon?"

He stares at you blankly, "I have no idea how long it will take. But I believe in you just as well. You can make it on your own, especially with how you proved yourself today. Strong decision making and vast knowledge on how survival works have made you to what you are. There is very little that I can teach you that I even know. You shall grow past what I can even guess you can do." He begins to let go of the hand shake, but you hold on.

Tightly. "There's one thing that you still haven't told me."

"And what's that?"

"How the World came to this pitiful state."
> The Wolf Underground
Your mentor, the Ghoul, and yourself make your way through the remnants of the past world. Suddenly, it all makes sense to you. The world went to hell, and it was the Professor's abuse of his Creations that furthered it. Now, the Church hunts you all down for no reason other than to to give hope to 'real' humans. It's despicable, but it's the world you're in right now.

The hot sun beats down upon you, while your slave suddenly comes to a halt. "This is it." He blandly calls out, reaching down to the sandy flooring, and makes hand motions as to move some of the sand away.

You turn to wish your master a farewell, but he is already gone. Only a hazy version of him can be seen through squinting in the distance. So, it's just me and my Ghoul. Let's just hope it doesn't get bloody...

You follow David's beckoning, and bend down to see what he was unclearing. As your slave digs, more and more sand  seems to pile in. "What are we looking for?"

"They're underground, sir."

With a nod, you decide to help out with the digging. As you lay your hands on the sand, you thank fortune that you hadn't done this in the middle of the day, rather than just an hour or so after sun-rise. The sand would no doubt have burnt your fingers otherwise! Even though you and your ghoul are digging barehanded, it doesn't take too much time before you begin to feel the sand getting thicker, more doughy. With quick powerful stroke, you continue ripping through the sand, throwing it out of your radius, soon creating a little pit, low enough that you could stand up in it. After clawing at the earth with your servant for a while, you accidentally scratch at something... Hard, metallic. Underneath the sand lay a metal disk, with evenly-spaced holes around it's edge and the middle. Even as it is right now, it's fairly obvious that the disk is heavily embedded into the ground, and prying it out would no doubt prove to be a challenge. At first, you try just digging around and under it, but your efforts seemed to have been in vain; the plate appeared to be a part of both the earth and some sort of brick-well that goes much further down.

"You sure this is the place? You ask, making sure that this was the opening to the Wolf Stronghold. It'd make sense, as this is extremely safe from the Zealots, considering.

"Yes." Comes the monotone reply, "The few remaining GPS satellites pin-pointed this exact spot. We caught several monsters disappearing from under the sand here."

Now, how should we try to open this?
> You try to pry it open. The Ghoul's combined strength with yours should be more than enough.
"C'mon Slave, you and I together can probably take this out of it's place." As usual, he complies. With a flick of your wrist, you bring out one of your signature claws, and draw your index finger along the bottom edge of the metal plate, taking as much sand out of it as possible. After thousands of sand pellets fall out, you both position yourselves opposite one another, and firmly grasp the end of the disc, clawing in anywhere possible to gain enough leverage to pull it upwards, out of it's fixed place. David and yourself glance at each other, and meet at the red-eyes.

1, 2, 3!

Forming an odd sort of mental connection with your ghoul, you both bring all the strength you can muster to pull the rough, grainy plate out of the stop of the well. As you pull at the disc, you can feel yourself pulling your muscles as well, the first feeling you've had of strain for a while. This would be a good thing any other time (sort of), but now it's just not a good time to go back to human-like limitations. Your ghoul on the other hand, glumly shows little exertion, even though he seems to be attempting to carry out your will. "David," You encourage, using his actual name this time, "Put your back into it. All your body, we can do this!"

You continue trying to pry open the hatch, but it just doesn't budge... Until a sudden movement. Feeling it shift slightly to the side, your ghoul instinctively follow you there, and you both pull at it in a close space, together. After exerting yourself greatly, you manage to take it out of it's wedge in a very sudden throw, flinging it out of your own pit with a clatter. You shrug, and smile at your Ghoul, and then proceed to look down the brick-well...

It's dark, for one thing, but you can barely make out the sound of feet pattering on cold concrete. Overcome with nervousness, you loudly blurt out, "We come in peace!"

Several dark figures appear from the bottom of the well, after several glances upwards at you and whispering, one of them waves you down. Shivering, you jump down the well, using the cylindrical bricks surrounding you to position yourself as to not fall on them. Still, you fall with a heavy thud. Yeah, I'm gonna need new sneakers.

Unlike yourself, David just goes down it normally, using the short metal bars protruding one of the sides, climbing downwards. The dark figures eye you carefully, taking a while to speak. One with dark gray hair and scruffy facial hair as well as a slouching hunchback of a surprisingly muscular body, points at your armor, "If you're a Zealot, I'd turn back right now."

His voice isn't too threatening, but his body language and thick-eyebrows suggest otherwise. He's clad in tight cloth shirt and pants, bulging with muscles, and is surrounded in an intimidating aura. The other one is completely cloaked, though watches your Ghoul with suspicion. "I'm not of the Church," you start, trying to make a good first impression, "and neither is he. Not anymore at least."

"Then what are you?" The gruff man calls out, his eyes narrowing.

"Well, I'm glad you asked. I'm a... A Creation, just like you. This is my Ghou--" By the time you uttered the word, 'Creation' he had already put you in a headlock. The cloaked one has already put your ghoul to sleep, though hopefully not forever...

The man continues, "What do you want from us, fangs-boy? I thought the rest of your clan died."

Clans? "No!" You exclaim, struggling out of his hold. You actually manage to surprise him with your strength and are able to push him off of you. "I honestly have no idea what you're talking about. But you're part of the Wolves, right? My associate and I want to join your strong hold."

He spits back at you, "We don't need any joiners."

"Why not?" You argue, your body tensing. "The Zealots are planning to raid this place soon, and I figure you could use as much help as possible."

The old man growls back you, "What are you, some sort of message-boy for the Professor?" Well, at least that means they aren't working for him. Probably. "The Church means no harm to us at this point. It'd be stupid for them to attack us. If you're trying to make a powerful group do something out of desperation, then oh boy, have you come to a bad place, vampy. I'd go back to the sun, where the pain is relatively quick." He cracks his knuckles. If you weren't so confident in your abilities, you might have been intimidated by this Neanderthal.

"Then perhaps you should ask my Ghoul, David. He was a Zealot before I brought him to the darkness." You point at the slumped body on the floor.

"He's dead now, too late." The brute says with a cruel grin, "Snapped his neck, Ragnor did."

You laugh, "I don't think he'd die from that." You take several steps toward your slave, waving the cloaked man aside, you grab David by the cuff of his armor and pick him up, then bring your hand to his neck and snap it back.

David glumly states, "Hi."

The Wolf grits his teeth, "Didn't know Vampires could use their powers like that."

"Then you'll be learning a whole lot more during my stay here. What was that you were saying about being the last of my clan?"

He smiles back, surprisingly, "Oh? So you don't know. You're the last of the Vampire Creations, as the rest died in this desert planet. I'm surprised you made it this long since the last Facility was destroyed. But if you don't remember that, then do you even remember your name?"

"I'm afraid not. Can you at least tell me yours?"

The Wolf laughs, "Call me Gideon. The cloaked figure on the side is Ragnor, our residential assassin, even if fighting has little place anymore." He brings out a hairy, clawed hand to shakes yours.

You accept it. "So I'm in?"

"I'm still suspicious of your reasons for coming here, and your story about the Zealots needs some checking."

"Is it really that surprising?"

"Less that and more that we don't want to fight them." What? Seeing your confused expression, Gideon continues, "Listen here Vampy, I'd rather die and let humanity survive than not. And most of us here are ready for that. If the Zealots come to our turf then we'll wipe them out easy, but we're definitely not going to seek conflict, even if me and the boys can take those choir-boys out in an instant."

"Why not? They want to kill us all?"

He shakes his head, his face now grim, "The Church may believe that we're demons, but they also value the sanctity of life, so I doubt they'd come here. Regardless, they aren't all that wrong about us. The things we've done... The innocents we've massacred in our wake. It doesn't mean that we're bad now, per se, but what we've done is inexcusable. The World has gone to waste, and I'm alright if we don't survive to see it rebuild itself.

You stand in silence for a little while, realizing that you've joined ranks with the modern equivalent of the hippies.

Gideon grins again, "But don't worry about that now, let's close the lid on top of our well and then introduce you to the rest of the gang."
> The rest of the Wolves.
"Ragnor, use those climbing skills of yours and find a way to seal the top of the well better. Can't have one of them dust storms filling the place, nor let any traveler find us like these two rugrats." Gideon says, waving for you to follow him and his goofy walking pattern. While the cloaked man begins to climb, you and David follow the hunchback though the stronghold of the wolves. It's a dark tunnel path, but several well-placed torches along the concrete walls give you enough light to make out peculiar drawings on the walls. Not exactly professional artwork or anything, just passionate claw-markings. But still...

“Hey Gideon,” you ask, examining one specifically for it's graphic nature, “What's up with the markings?”

The hunchback turns his head, but continues moving, “The writing? It's a code language we formed, mixture of all the languages the folks here are familiar with. It's more or less a system of simplified pictures, but you'll be able to read it if you stay here long enough.”

“Can you read this one out to me?” You make sure to stop and point it out; the writing here is different than the rest, even more picturesque than the rest. You can't hope to read it, but you do notice a recurring theme-- a cross and a pentagram. Not only that, but they're much less refined than the others, as if written with anger.

“That one is rather basic, I think I even went over it before. It basically boils to, eh...” He shuffles closer to you, and brings his large eye to the writing, “Peace is what keeps our humanity, for the Professor, cursed be he, uses strife to tear us apart. The cursed Creator wishes that we destroy our brothers in battle so he reaps the reward when it's over.” Gideon tilts his head back and continues forward, “I'd keep this in mind, vampy. I'm not sure why you're here, whether to warn us or to do devil's bidding, but I trust you enough to see you have no idea what's going on, so I'll be giving you the chance to give a little presentation for the guys here. By vote, we'll either agree or not. After that, it's up to you whether you stay or not. Got it?”

“That's all I could have asked for, sir.” You reply, hoping you can prepare them for the Church's onslaught next week. If not, then, well, you and your brothers are done for, regardless of non-violent intentions.

After several minutes of treading through the passages of the tunnel, Gideon stops to look up, even if his head doesn't lift that far. You catch up to where he is, noticing what he's looking at: an opening, light.

“That's our hideout.” The Wolf jumps up, grabbing onto some sort of ledge to bring his deformed body up. You watch his body struggle up it, land on solid ground (and then a lot of murmuring from above), then jump up yourself, making it up with ease.

The hideout is surprisingly low-key for the most powerful beings on the planet, but considering how they're just trying to survive a dimly lit room filled with sleeping bags and animal-carcasses strewn about is to be expected. The ragtag group that are the Wolves are surprising though; a thin man with dark hair, only to have a visible streak of white in the front; a rather hairy, though otherwise attractive female with dirty blonde hair who's around your age (early twenties?); several scruffy teenagers; a dark-skinned, mustached, and barrel-chested man; at least three of obvious Asian descent; and, of course, Gideon, pointing you out to everybody.

Most of them getting out of there bags, they begin gawking at you. You wince as the female eye you with interest, while the men seem to just want to know what you want so they could sleep. You motion to Gideon, and you get close to him and ask, "These are the Wolves? Not as... Impressive, as I thought they'd be."

"You're not exactly super-hero material either, child. Kinda stock; dark, straight hair and pale skin. Lean physique." Noticing you're confusion he just pokes at your chest, "What matters is what's on the inside. That's where power comes from. Remember that." He begins to raise his voice, "Now, this here is a Vampire. He has no name, so call him whatever you like, but he has some 'opinions' he'd like to share.

As your ghoul struggles up the hatch, you wonder how you want to persuade this group of lazy Wolves to prepare.
> You describe it with urgency, they need to realize how serious this is.
It's time to get these sleepy assholes up and running.

You nod to the crowd as they gather around you, staring with glossy eyes and gaping mouths. "I'm not going to sugarcoat anything," you snarl, starting off with a very loud, though clear voice, "The Church has plans to raid our little stronghold here by next week."

Gasps from the Wolves, and men exit their bags. Seems to have worked, for now.

"And while that may be hard to believe, I'm sure we all know how ruthless the Zealots are. I escaped from the last Facility-- Facility 13, soon before it came tumbling down with C.E. Troopers, who burned down the laboratory. Since then, I have fought many of them, some purposely in order to find my brethren here, to join you as well as to warn you of the incoming second apocalypse. We are blessed Creations, gifted in our own right. We aren't innately evil, like the Church believes. Rather, we are capable of great things, but only if we survive our genocide."

"Then what do you want us to do?" One of them shouts out, interrupting you.

"I want you to fight back, and prepare for when they come next week. We need to take the initiative; I know how powerful Creations can be, so I have no doubt in my mind that we can beat them. But only if we get ready."

"Why should we trust you?" One of the younger ones ask.

You bare your teeth; fear is a big factor of your speech, "Because if I'm right then we all die." You seethe out, staring intently at your brethren. "We have three options the way I see it; defend the stronghold and prepare for when they come; try to take control of the city with our combined strengths before the attack; or just get slaughtered when the time comes."

Most of the Wolves continue gaping, though Gideon cracks his knuckles.

"Nice speech, Vampire" A voice declares, and the red-cloaked figure pops out of the hatch. Ragnor's hood fall down, and the profile is of a middle-aged, balding man. Terribly tall, and lean; powerful and domineering. "Do you really think we can overtake the Church?"

"If we do it carefully, yes."

He smiles, "Then I like what I'm hearing; I'm in." While it's amusing how enthusiastic he is, it also seems to win over more of the Wolves. Perhaps Ragnor is a big figure in the Wolf Underground. "It is likely to work, too. While some of us are inexperienced, we can easily beat them while their forces are divided into attacking our stronghold. We just need to be clever."

Gideon continues to grimly frown, "I think the 'hold the fort' idea will work better. It's safer, and more suited to our abilities."

It's odd, but you feel like it's completely your decision. Maybe they just really trust in you?
> You side with Ragnor on this one.
"I... Think Ragnor has a solid point. We can definitely beat the Zealots as long as we have the element of surprise. And if this goes well, then we won't have to worry about extinction ever again."

The blonde vixen looks up to you, as do most of the Wolves. Ragnor laughs, and pats you on the back. Gideon, on the other hand, merely frowns, closes his eyes, and announces, "Right. Welcome to the family, Vampy. I'd rest, we're all practically nocturnal here anyhow.

The cloaked Ragnor frowns, "Are you sure? I was just about to bring out the alcohol..."

"No alcohol, Ragnor. We have a long night tonight, lots of training we need to go through. I don't think some of us here have actually fought Zealots."

Ragnor nods, and the rest of the Wolves shuffle back to their blankets. Gideon shuts the lantern off, and heads down the hatch, disappearing after a thud.

Meanwhile, you find a piece of concrete that is comfortable enough to meditate on, and begin to close your eyes... Only to realize that all the Wolves are watching you for some reason. They're all smiling, and the pretty one in particular seems to watch you in the dark of day. At some point during the night, she leans towards you to whispers, "Hi, I'm Cecilia." She giggles.

"Uh, hi." You whisper back lamely.

The next couple of days fly by, and you manage to go over the histories of your new friends, as well as prepare them for the fight.
> You assault on Church City.
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 urge for David to head a group.
"Ragnor," you hold your hand out defiantly, "I can do just fine alone. I trust in David enough to know that he will aid you a lot in holding the fort than helping me on a stealth mission. Now come on."

Ragnor grunts in protest, but shrugs it off. You and the the rest of the Wolves, keeping your heads low, move around the incoming horde of Zealots, attacking the City on its other side, almost opposite from where the Zealots marched from. After an hour of movement, you're eyes manage to detect the sentries watching the City. There are only perhaps 6 in total, evenly spaced out in hexagonal circumference around the City, but they each handle a fierce strobe-light that will bring light to the actual situation. Thankfully, the group is just far enough away that you aren't spotted.

"So, do we have any good ideas on how I'm getting in?" You ask, your mind flipping through several theoretical simulations of getting into the City: most of them, you die.

"You see the narrow dark passage-way in between the strobe lights?"

"Yeah?"

"You have to slip through that, then quickly kill the sentry on this side before he can get to the other, and then climb the barb-wire fence. You'll have to figure out what to do from then, but I'd focus on finding the actual Chapel, and killing the Elders there. We'll be rushing the City on this entire side while you're inside, confusing the Zealots and buying you time. Got it? Why the long face?"

You hand him your rifle, "Guess I can't exactly bring this with me, haha."

He takes it, smiles, and then salutes; this may be the last time you see him or several members of the group. You don't bother saying goodbye, and leave it to the hands of fate. "Just take care of Cecilia and David." You say, turning around to slowly creep forward...

First taking it slow, you almost crawl on the ground as to not be seen by the sentry, and move forward. You position yourself perfectly so the lights miss you, and the cloudy sky allows you to remain concealed. As you crawl onward, you notice that the Zealot Sentry is practically sleeping; he must have been here all day, waiting. Seizing the opportunity, you make easy work of him by bite. The defenseless man is quickly drained, to the point of being unconscious for reasons other than tiredness. You don't even bother checking whether his pulse is still there, whether he's dead or not doesn't matter right now. Finding the big Chapel does. You keep the strobe-light on as to not raise attention to anything, and continue on inside of the City. You leap over the fence, still clad in the Zealot armor. What you see in the City is amazing.

Nothing, almost a ghost-town. While the City has flashing banners all over, only two large buildings seem occupied: one with a giant cross, the other with an upside-down cross, like a sword.

As you enter the former, obviously the Chapel, you see an elderly man open the door in front of you. His squinty eyes stare at you for a moment before he asks in a gravely voice, "Has my time come already?"

Wordlessly, you grab at his throat, and begin to unintentionally rip at it, blood trickling down your wrist. "You are the reason for my brethren's suffering." you start, your pupils widening in anger, "You and your Zealots made us have to resort to living in fucking burrows. This is where God's plans for you ends, Tomas."

"Then so be it."

He dies there and then, and you find several monks staring at you in horror from the Chapel's door. Noticing them, you enter the Chapel to kill them as well. The balding priests hold out their necklaces, yelling, "We shall fear no evil for there is God." Over and over again.

Thankfully, you aren't evil; you're just looking out for your race. Protecting it from those who want to cut down on it. The blood of the zealots tastes better than ever, but it gets cut short by the sudden blaring of sirens-- the assault has begun.

Yet, oddly, enough, over ten Zealots rush in from all sides come to gawk at your bloody attire. While you cackle evilly when jumping and clawing at them, they still manage to have you surrounded by numbers if nothing else, breathlessly ending your unlife with their bayonets, all in the name of their God.

You have been killed by the hands of the Church.


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...


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 Ghouls. (Optional)
The Ghouls are, to put it simply, unhappy. From devout followers of God to what they believe are demons. If you weren't the leader of the City, you'd perhaps find it amusing when a Ghoul would attempt at suicide, only to find themselves un-killable by normal means. It's a sick kind of amusement which you don't take part it, though you can certainly see the appeal.

They mostly live wherever they used to anyhow, only now they depend on your monthly visits when you give them vials of blood which the parents hide from their children. Almost every-time you appear an enraged male tries to fight you, but they're quite simply no match. It takes a while, but it's relaxed, for the most part.

You have more or less recognized that only time can repair the fences torn down. Perhaps one day they'll understand.

What you do realize, however, is that you'll need lots of blood to maintain this, and as such you have to make monthly visits to the old Zealot-HQ, where the twenty humans left serve as 'blood-donors'.

You stop off at the old Zealot-HQ, where the twenty-or-so remaining humans are still kept. You open the metal doors, where what used to be a cafeteria for Zealots now holds Ghouls, carefully placing vials of blood into specific containers, storing them in an unused cupboard. As you enter, the Ghouls rise at attention and salute, before scurrying out of the building. They know why you're here.

Once a month you have to extract more blood out of the humans, as well as make sure they're scared enough of you so they won't turn on each other. It's happened before, and you have to make sure it doesn't happen again-- after all, your society is defendant on feed.

You move forward and to the right, opening another door which leads to a hallway, which leads in to another door whom's staircase leads to the basement, where the humans are kept. You go down the steps, flipping a light-switch as you do so. The lights are dim and buzz a lot, but the Zealots installed a powerful generator can probably work for several more years.

The humans, shackled, pale, and grim, peer at you in the dim lighting. Their faces express nothing but disgust mixed with fear, and they say no words to you. You reach for a flask with one hand, and the other grasps the wrist of a young girl. She must have been ten before you took the City over, and now she is... Developed. Mature in physical, and probably would be attractive if she wasn't as pale as the undead themselves. You bend down and look at her straight in the eye as your claws rip into her wrist, and as blood pours out into the flask below she doesn't even cry out in pain-- none of them do, they just watch. When the flask is several centimeters full you patch her wrist with a large band-aid filled with alcohol. At this she winces when you place it on, her slender frame shivering. You stand back up, and stare at the others, watching you as you get ready to leave, placing a cork in the flask. You turn back around, finished with only one of your tasks concerning them.

"Where is your god?" You question the humans.

None of them answer, they just stare blankly at you, soulless.

You point to one of them, one that has the soiled garb of a minister, "Where is your god now, human? Where has he gone to protect you in your time of need? In case you didn't know, an entire year has passed since your holding, and behold nothing has succeeded in saving you. You are hopeless."

They maintain their silence.

"Your only possible hope is to become one of the fallen, one of the so-called 'Demons' you once told your children to fear. Today I give you that option, to live eternal unlife, not the death that awaits you."

One or two look up to you, some in fear, some in disgust, and some of interest.

"Those who wish to join me can. Stand up, throw away your principles, and you shall join the magnificent civilization that has been created in God's absence."

The girl you just cut speaks, "If- if I join you... will, will my child be safe?"

You raise an eyebrow, only to see one of the young men, close to her, holding her hand tightly. You notice a slight bulge in her stomach. You rub your chin, "Aha..." Perhaps that would be a better method to keep the City living. Use the thirty here to reproduce more children to feed off of... "Yes, he would. You and your mate may stand, for we will take care of you."

With a weak smile, the girl trembles to get up, while the male solemnly helps her up.

"Indeed, I didn't expect for you to be able to... Be intimate here, but this is for the best. Whomever wishes to be fruitful, and to multiply, will be granted access to the World above. The rest will continue to stay here."

Several more haggard men and women stand up, just barely able to with their shackles. With a powerful strike, you break the metal holding them, and the thirteen men and women stand behind you. The rest of them-- a truly hopeless pair of twins who still believe in their deity just wait there, watching as you take several of the men and ghoul them in front of the emotionally scarred group, the blood spraying over them. They stare blankly as you grab at the oldest human, and swipe at his neck-- revealing all of his ruby red blood before he could even react.

The boy of the pair stares at you angrily; and knowingly, that he couldn't possibly fight you. The other of the two-- an odd looking girl with a bizarre paper-hat on her head-- one shaped like some sort of boat-- doesn't even react, truly mortified by your actions.

As the youth glare at you, you deftly snatch the hat from her head, unfolding it slightly to read what the blotches of ink read. The brother breaks out of his phase just to push at you, trying to get the hat back only for you to easily push him back several meters with but a flick of your wrist. Just glancing at the paper, you recognize the format to realize that it is not recent-- pictures of gardens and open-houses primarily being the subject of the paper. Boring.

You drop the newspaper on the floor before motioning to your new workers to follow you. Soon enough, you place the mates into their own 'cells', houses under lock and key. Every several days you watch to see how things are, and whether their efforts to make children for you is working.

Unfortunately, it seems like it will take years before you can harvest the fruits of this brilliant plan, but at the very least it seems like a good investment...


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 Wolven tongue. (Optional)
The lupine language is an annoyingly complex one. Even though the alphabet is blocky and primitive, it's amazingly complicated. If you were to guess, the language was probably formed from several other ones-- particularly English, German, and Latin. Or perhaps not-- it's just that foreign to you. Over the months of relative tranquility you've picked up most of it, though the constant use of prefixes, suffixes and roots still mess you up greatly.

As Ragnor puts it, "It's a beautiful language, simple but elegant. It's confusing to learn though, I'll give you that."

You were given chalk and were set in some sort of rundown school, where they still used blackboards. Shamino-- who's just slightly younger than yourself, pretty much takes advantage of the opportunity to finally teach you something. He forces you to draw the assortment of curved lines in specific orders, with seemingly random dots in order to emphasize expression.

Probably the most interesting part of the alphabet is that some letters are simply not used in the English language. Fittingly, they require use of the back of the throat to pronounce, almost like a choked howl.

They say that they formed it to spite the Professor, but you're not really sure how it would accomplish that. It seems that it would be more useful as a secret-code language if needed.  That's probably what it was at first though, assuming the Wolves were always this close in their Facility.

It's fascinating to you, though, that the Wolves were close enough to build this language together. Unfortunately, they seem to share a link together that you don't have, a connection that they all have. Even with the newly added benefit of speaking their tongue, most of them still find you aloof to them, simply a leader- but little else.