“Pass the porridge, boy,” barked a rotund, hairy faced man as he sat at the head of a roughly finished wooden table, surrounded by a younger, skinnier version of himself and a woman who's face was wrinkled with stress and age. His son complied, grabbing a bowl full of warm porridge and offering it up to his father. “You're gonna need to take the horses to town tomorrow,” he said as he grabbed the bowl and served himself. “Take 'em to the smith. Get 'em shoe'd.”

“Yes, father.” The tone in his voice was devoid of any joy. The majority of his life thus far consisted of errands, chores and manual labor. He had no siblings to play with and they lived too far into the country to have any neighbors close by. Just as the older man settled his plate, he set the bowl down and grabbed a spoon. In the distance, the sound of a dog barking echoed through the night. All three of them reacted subtly, recognizing the call.

“God forsaken mutt,” grumbled the patriarch, his face contorting with frustration. The family dog was notorious for causing a ruckus. When the boy found him, his father hesitantly agreed to let him keep it, but that was before all the barking. Day, night, it didn't matter. That dog had no trouble finding something offensive at any given time.

“How is the food?” asked the woman, gingerly, attempting to distract her husband.

“Well I haven't eaten the food, have I?” he shot back with a healthy dose of condescension. “Boy,” he said, turning his attention back to his son. “Go shut that thing up. This is the last time. Next time I shut it up. Permanently.” The boy nodded and excused himself from the table. The dog's parking became more frenzied, adding to the older man's irritation. As the boy opened the door to their humble home, the cool night air swept in, sending a small chill up his spine. He stepped outside, closing the door behind him, and set off into the distance where he could hear the dog's woofing. Meanwhile, his father just sat there in his chair, looking at his food with disgust while the canine's infernal yapping polluted his ears.

“I swear it, Gwen, I'm going to kill that fucking thing,” he declared to his wife without even looking up. She placed a consolatory hand on her husband's shoulder, unsure of what to actually say to appease him. “I shouldn't have ever let the boy keep it. I told you it'd be a problem, but you said-” His rant was suddenly interrupted by an immediate and violent yelp from outside followed by complete quiet. The man turned his attention to the closed door and looked at it in shock for a moment before turning back to his wife, his expression slowly changing to excitement. “He fucking did it!” He couldn't contain a hearty laugh before repeating himself. “I'll be damned, the boy fucking did it! It's about time his nuts dropped.” With a smile that spread from ear to ear, the man took a spoonful of the porridge and shoved it into his mouth. He ate it and stared up toward the ceiling, reveling in the newfound silence.

“Do you like it, dear?” the woman asked with even more caution than before.

“HA! I love it!” he bellowed back. “My boy's becoming a man. Maybe I'll give him some extra coin tomorrow to spend in town.” He nodded to himself, seemingly satisfied with this new resolution, before returning to his food. He and his wife ate the rest of their meal in glorious silence. As he let his spoon fall to the table, the man looked to the front door again. The boy hadn't returned, yet. “What the hell is taking him so long,” he asked rhetorically, his annoyance apparent.

“He may be upset,” his wife offered. The man scoffed and stood up, clearly harboring no respect for anyone who would mourn such an annoying little creature. The man marched to the door and flung it open before stomping outside.

“Boy! You better not be sobbing like a pansy!” The only sounds he heard back were from the nocturnal insects hidden in the grass. The man huffed and began to advance further into the night. As he did, he could slowly start to make out a figure in the distance that appeared to be hunched over. “Boy!” But there was no reaction. The man's temperature began to rise with anger as he marched forward more. He looked on as the young man's shoulders moved and shook slowly. His eyes then drifted a little to the right where they fell on the body of the dog. At first, disappointment struck the man. The boy really was crying over the dead beast. But then that disappointment turned to bewilderment. The dog's body was nearly torn in half. It's entire midsection was gone except for the spine and some broken ribs that were peaking out through flaps of cavernous flesh. “Boy... what in God's name have you done...?” As if hearing the man for the first time, the figure stood up with a start before turning to face the man.

Horror. Absolute horror filled the man's entire being as he bore witness to a being that looked human, but had teeth that were ever-bared because it's lips had long rotted off. It's eyes, of which it only had one, was glazed over, making it look as though there hadn't existed a pupil. Its mouth and cheeks were painted crimson and in its hand, his gripped a tuft of hair to the violently severed head belonging to his son.

The man's eyes were as wide as they could go, his face taking on the complexion of a cherry. “Y-you! You damned thing!” Favoring his rage over his common sense, the man began to move toward the vile creature, intending to settle this on his own. But he froze when he saw the others...

The Others [+]

From between the trees, more of them slowly shuffled out, their bodies contorted unnaturally as they moved at a snail's pace. The man's heart rate was going faster than it ever had before as he clumsily backpedaled and ran back toward the house. Once he made it inside, he slammed the door shut and, between pants, told his wife “We have to go. NOW!”

“Where's Brian?”

“There is no Brian anymore,” the man said, his eyes tearing up. “The things... The dead are walking. We have to go. W-we've got to warn the town, the L-lord. Oh, G-god. We need to take up arms. We need to defend ourselves. We need... we need...”

“Go on, then!” shouted Finlay Dougal, his accent giving away his highland roots. The scars on his face and arm told all who beheld him that he'd been wearing the hood for quite a while now. His crimson cape flowed in the wind as he marched and shouted at the men and women between him and the rest of the Red Guard. It was initiation day and he found himself tasked with escorting the lot of candidates who faced indoctrination or death.

Carriage after carriage continued to unload and the obligated group of initiates were herded together to finish the rest of the trek on foot. They followed along the dirt path that led to the draw bridge of the famous Red Hood Keep. The castle looked as solid and stubborn as a mountain, built with utility in mind rather than luxury. Located in the south central portion of Duncaster, the keep was a knife in a bed of flowers, the rest of the central province being built to exemplify the epitome of extravagance.

Other initiates with intentions to pledge of their own free will also began arriving and making their way in passed those who were sentenced to join. Finlay made sure to study each face that passed him.

“Ay! You there,” he shouted toward an armored figure that stood close to the head of the pack, wearing thick hood. “We don' have all mornin'” Finlay scolded, clicking on his consonances. “Move yer arse! And you,” he began, turning his attention toward a fair-haired middle aged man. “Don't you fuckin' eyeball me, Yella, or I'll snatch it right from yer socket!”



As the sea of people and hooded guards walked across the drawbridge and into the keep, they were immediately led to a great hall decorated with red banners. A crimson carpet was laid out across the stone floor that led to a small stage. In the middle of that stage stood a woman adorned in armor accented with silver, red and gold. To her right was an incredibly imposing figure covered in a black hooded cloak, the face shrouded in shadow. To the left was another armored figure in just silver and red with a cardinal cape draped down his backside. He was slightly taller than the woman, but a dwarf compared to the figure in black.

Those who had already earned their red hoods also gathered en masse to see the new recruits. They were like wolves staring down rabbits. Each of them had killed countless unholy monstrosities and now they looked on as these people fresh off the street assumed they had what it takes. To Finlay, it was laughable. As the last of the recruits entered the hall, Finlay pointed his index finger into the air and began swinging it around as if he had a lasso. “Lock 'er up!” he shouted out. In response, the sound of the drawbridge raising echoed through the keep. With everyone secure and inside, the Red Guard became a little more relaxed. All the Hoods moved and lined the perimeter of the room allowing the new recruits to populate the middle. There was nervous chatter among them as the woman in the middle appeared to be taking her time to address the crowd.

As Finlay moved toward the back of the room, he bumped into a young man with a scar that ran down his left arm violently enough that it caused him to take offense. “Watch it, dobber!” he snarled.

Vitius growled in annoyance as the sweet and silent darkness of his slumber was disturbed for the fifth time during this journey by the all too familiar feeling of a boot prodding his rib cage. Shifting slightly in the hopes that the person the booted foot belonged to would just go away and let him enjoy what little rest he'd had, Vitius let himself sink deeper and deeper into the abyss surrounding him, knowing that if he sunk deep enough his body would stop registering outside disturbances and he'd finally be able to get a good days sleep.

Vitius could tell he was getting close when his limbs began to grow heavy and his consciousness slowly began to fade. He just needed was a few more minutes...

THUMP!

Vitius's eyes shot open as he felt the person kick him in the gut. Hard. Wrapping his arm's around his midsection protectively, the fledgling vampire raised his head and glared hatefully at the Red Hood standing in the open carriage doorway before him in a way that allowed just enough sunlight to enter the space to keep him immobilized but not enough to outright kill him, which made Vitius unsure if he should feel grateful or insulted.

"Wake up princess." The man said in a thick accent that showed his northern heritage. "We've arrived."

Upon hearing those words, Vitius felt every muscle in his body tense as the man moved away from the door and closed it slightly. It seemed the day had finally arrived. While the Red Hoods had spared his life, he knew that the life he was about to enter was going to be a thousand times worse than death. He knew that from this day forward he'd be living, if you could call it that, amongst a group of people who not only wanted to kill him and those like him, but who were highly skilled at it as well.

Letting out a soft groan, Vitius slowly got to his feet and pulled the thick olive coloured hood he'd sown into his armor, over his head before pushing the door open and stepping out of the dark sparsely decorated carriage interior, his mind racing in a hundred directions at once. As his boots hit the dirt path, Vitius found himself unable to focus on anything but the large stone keep sitting in the center of the mountainous land surrounding them, like some ancient and menacing guardian from ages long past.

Vitius was suddenly brought out of his musing and back to the harsh reality around him as he felt iron shackles being placed around his ankles and wrists. Although he wanted to rip the men responsible for treating him like a feral beast apart, he managed to keep himself in check for self preservations sake. After the shackles and chains had been properly secured the men took up positions in behind him, one of them holding the chains connected to his shackles and the other standing at the ready a few feet away with a crossbow aimed at the back of his head.

Upon hearing a man whom Vitius assumed was the leader of this particular contingent of guards he was being 'escorted' by order them to move, he felt the man holding his chains give him a hard shove forward. Letting out a barely audible hiss, Vitius did as he was told and began marching towards his new home and prison.

Mentions: @Argetlam350

~Several Minutes Later~

---

Vitius found himself standing, along with some others, in a large hall, decorated in crimson banners, with a red carpet covering the stone floor that led all the way to a throne sitting on a slightly raised platform on the opposite end of the room from him. Red Hood's, Veterans along with more greener soldiers who had just recently earned their red hoods, crowded the hall, each and every one of them watching his little group like a predator watches its prey.

Vitius had a feeling that any attack or display of resistance that broke out in this hall would be put down efficiently and brutally.

As he let his gaze wander around the large and somewhat ornate interior of the keep many things in it caught Vitius's attention, especially the odd smelling battle hardend man wearing a crimson coloured coat standing off to his left, but only the three figures standing on the far end of the room kept it. The first was a large imposing looking man clad in a hooded black robe, his face concealed by the shadows it cast. The second was a tan skinned woman clad in accented silver-gold armor, with brown coloured eyes and jet black hair kept in a ponytail that fell to just beneath her shoulders. And the last was a man who was slightly taller than the woman, who was clad in silver-red armor with a cardinal cape hanging down over his backside.

Vitius kept his gaze fixed on the three imposing figures as he anxiously waited for whatever came next.

Moving from the North Providences down was definitely a culture shock, if that was even was the right word to describe it. For one thing, aside from Stathford, there were a lot more buildings than the small fairy had expected. Of course she was so use to seeing trees and flowers at every turn, it was to be expected that Loona was a bit out of her element. Because of that, the wingless creature hovered above the sea of people making their way into the Red Hood keep, making sure not to slack behind the group nor be too close to the front. It was much easier to see where she was going while also being able to get a better look at who could be her potential allies; plus, who knows what would try to grab her if she stayed down there with the rest of them?

To her front was definitely where she belonged, as if the shackles restraining the ones behind her didn't give enough of a clue. And while she was clearly nervous about the idea of working with terrible people sentenced to this line of work, it was just something she'd have to live with. With one hand clutching on the silver colored hourglass necklace and the other resting on the hilt of her little fencer sword, Loona ventured onward, being sure to not accidentally wander off. She floated smoothly into the crimson hall, wincing slightly at all the noises bouncing off the walls. With the added Red Hoods present to watch, and maybe even act as security guards, Loona unconsciously lowered herself to blend in more with the crow around her. Why did they have to stare like that? Was she going to end up acting like them one day?

Shaking her head quickly in attempts to rid the anxiety crawling under her skin, Loona tried to focus her attention forward at the three figures silently awaiting attention from the crowd, her gaze shifting to look around her every now and again due to force of habit.

---

Bartholomew exited his carriage, putting a hand over his eyes as his eyes adjusted from the musky, dark interior of the carriage, to the bright morning day. He had little time to take in the surroundings before being shoved out of the carriage by an accompanying Red Hood. He huffed in annoyance as he stumbled forward before being escorted to others who seemed were stuck like he was now. Death or serve were their only options and they chose to serve. It wasn't long after though that those who seemed to of joined willingly were also part of the entourage of new recruits.

While walking to the keep a rather scarred man seemed to be directing them aggressively to their destination. Spotting his staring the man barked at him to which Bartholomew briefly just glared at him, not minding one bit to let the wolf eat him on a full moon, but continued onward shortly after, pushing those thoughts aside. Soon they were inside and locked in going by the sound of the drawbridge behind him. There was no going back now, never was after the choice had been made but the reality seemed to sink in deeper for Tholo at that moment. His focus turned to the three figures to the front of all the assembled new initiates, waiting for whatever would happen next.

Edwin was nearly bouncing out of his seat by the time the carriage stopped at the Red Hood Keep, hands gripping his robes. He could hardly believe that someone like him was joining the Red Hoods, an organization that he had idolized for years up till this point. Sure, it was a little scary that his alternative was death, but it was perfectly understandable - after all, Edwin did deal with demons. As the thought crossed his mind, the slithering movements of the centipede in his cloak reminded Edwin that he wasn't alone.

It took a lot of willpower not to immediately jump out of the carriage when it stopped. The last thing he wanted to do was embarrass himself, and the man he had spent the last few hours talking with was especially interesting - apparently, he had gutted vampires that could rip Edwin in half! That's a red hood for you, tough as nails and defending the weak! Edwin waited for the grizzled man to climb out of the carriage before he grabbed Edwin by the collar and dragged the young man him out behind him. Edwin was quickly slammed into the stone wall of the castle, hitting his head hard enough to cause his vision to blur.

"Listen here shitface, I let you off easy on the ride here since you're so compliant - Now you're just like any other prisoner."

The guard slapped manacles onto Edwin's hands as he spoke, using the chain to drag him instead of his collar. Once again, the Red Hoods showed their mercy - this guard was willing to break the rules just to give Edwin a little more comfort on the ride over here! The young man nodded his head as he was forcefully dragged by his guard, eventually managing to regain his footing and walk behind the man. After a short walk and making their way into the keep, Edwin's guard let go of the chain and was beginning to walk away.

"Alright shitface, my job was to get you here - you're under Finlay's jurisdiction now. Don't do anything to get me in trouble or I'll make you wish you took the death sentence."

"Oh heavens, I would never try to get you in trouble, sir! Thank you again for taking me all the way to the Keep!"

It was a bit hard to wave goodbye in his manacles, but Edwin's parents always said it was the thought that counted! The guard didn't seem to care too much and was drinking out of some metal container at his side - something that he had done at least four other times on the ride to the Keep. Being a Red Hood must really dehydrate you...

---

Mentions:@ZAVAZggg

'Alright Kid, we got in the castle - what stupid bullcrap do you want me to do for you now?'

The voice broke into the back of Edwin's thoughts, the dark and insidious kind of whisper you hear when standing on the edge of a large cliff. Edwin tensed as he heard it - even after a month or two, he still wasn't used to hearing his familiar speak.

'Ok Chamos, next up is becoming a Red Hood! For now, you can investigate things from the ceiling - you deserve a break for waiting so long in my robes.'

Edwin tried to be discreet as he slid up to the nearest wall, feeling the small centipede make its way from his sleeve to the stone surface. The creature immediately began to crawl up and away, seeking refuge in the rafters above. Old Chamos deserved a break though. After all, Edwin needed all the help he could get becoming a Red Hood, and his only real asset at the moment was the small imp.

Edwin turned away from the wall, accidentally bumping into someone as he did so. Edwin was quick to bounce back from the collision, holding up his hands and making sure that the person hadn't fallen or gotten hurt. He was an Older Man, his white hair and pale skin making him appear far older than he probably was. He was also much more physically imposing than the young man, being about a head taller and armored - the collision, Edwin realized, couldn't have been more than an inconvenience for the individual. Still, it was always polite to apologize and introduce yourself when you make a mistake.

"I'm ever so sorry, sir! I wasn't looking where I was going - My name is Edwin Cohen! Wh-"

Edwin was cut off as he finally saw the three figures standing on the podium. The one that first drew his eye was the large man, a being that easily dwarfed the other two individuals. The sight of him reminded Edwin of the Demonology textbooks his mother always read to him to make him sleep - still, Edwin doubted that the Red Hoods would employ an actual demon, especially after the fuss they made over Edwin's familiar. The man was clearly of prestige but was almost immediately forgotten by Edwin as he saw the remaining figure.

That armor, the general size and shape, the fact that she was a woman of high importance in the Red Hoods... Was this Blanchette Rouge?! Edwin had never seen a picture of her, but she was by far his favorite Red Hood. Well, she was the only Red Hood that he knew by name, but that didn't dismiss the fact that she was apparently a great woman!

It didn't take long for Edwin to decide that talking while she was trying to get their attention was probably ruder than ignoring the older man. Instead of continuing his introductions, Edwin simply stood where he was, paying attention to the figures on the stage and trying to see if the man he bumped into was upset.

---

---

---

Sadon was jostled awake by the abrupt lurch of the carriage. The dream kept replaying in his mind. Though showing little of it, he was in a sullen mood as he has been plagued by these 'dreams' for a few months now. He rubbed the sleepiness out of his eyes before deciding to just not sleep. A little fatigue sounded preferable than the perpetual reminders of his past. A soft sigh escaped his lips as he sat there watching the carriage sway back and forth. His thoughts moved to his life servitude with the 'Red Hoods' before being interrupted by a figure beside him speaking up, seeming to make idle chatter to pass the time,

"You, I reckon I've seen you before. Ferres- Fedndrel... Fendrel was it?" he said after a hacking cough, "What is a shitty miser from the noble families doing 'ere? Sentenced like an animal to these mad jailers like meself."

"... Reason is similar to most." Sadon managed to articulate loosely after the initial surprise of recognition, he pulled his washed out yellow hood further down, "Atonement for a crime committed."

The rest of the ride was uneventful. The stranger shrugged, seeming satisfied by the response and turned over to catch some sleep. Sadon sat there, rocked only by the oscillations of the carriage.

---

The carriage came to a complete stop. People were practically being thrown out of the carriage, 'ushered out' as they called it. One of the guard clasped his arm in a vice-like grip and yanked him out of the carriage. The sudden shift of imbalance made him lose his footing, causing him to flip frontwards. Sadon was nothing if not nimble, he caught himself mid-air, landing on his two feet instead of his face. The guards chuckled and cooed amongst themselves, 'Wow, ain't a Fendrel for nothing eh?'

"Alright, 'ser Aristocrat', all yous is to do is follow Finlay." his sentry instructed, pointing out a figure, "Tha' one with the displeased look about him."

Sadon nodded, letting them chain him before following the herd of yellow hoods. His tried to glue his eyes to the path ahead but was betrayed by a cursory glance towards the imposing castle. It felt more like a well-guarded fortress to him- nigh impenetrable in its design. Functionality over form was a succinct way to describe the castle. A quick glance-over made him consider the practicality of the design, situated over tall hills with walls too high to scale, coupled with a hefty drawbridge it looked almost impossible to attack.

It was a few more minutes of walking before they had reached the castle. It was as grandiose as he envisioned- Banners of velvet red adorned the walls, the stone looked nearly immaculate, as if they were tended to every week. The carpet, being the same colour as the banners, draped seamlessly across the stone floor. The ocean of red hoods made it seem like the yellow hoods were nothing more than a drop in the bucket.

Sadon's eyes finally landed on the three oppressive figures on the stage. The Red Hoods were secretive, but even he has heard of Blanchette Rouge. She was a nigh-legendary historical figure. It wasn't exaggeration to say that most persons ever attacked by Monsters were beholden to her in one way or another. It's how her connections were wide and varied and how the 'Red Hoods' could operate under no particular banner.

Sadon tried to cross his arms but couldn't because of the chains. He eyed the figures, waiting to be addressed.

@Inertia@Duoya@ZAVAZggg



The voices echoed in the knight's mind. Out of all things he could remember, that one was precisely what came to his mind. The gates had welcomed him already. He had not been the sort of brigand or fiendish monster these Red Hoods were infamous for rounding up and putting them into servitude. They had called. He had answered. The rumours had never ceased though.

He had been marked. Mistrust and deceit followed, very much like the stench of death followed an all but living corpse. A once proud youth, grown now into a fully broken bitter man. He steeled his resolve as he crossed the threshold, clad in the armor of a hundred battles, and denying others a peek into his inner thought, as his helm dominated his presence.

Still, he would be lying if he had said he felt nothing at the sight. There it was. The sea of banners. The eerie feeling of unity among soldiers. One mind. One soul. At the center, the embers that kept such a fire alive. The commander. This Blanchette Rouge. She seemed a cut above the rest, at least in tough appearance. Far from posh and spoilt lords who more than often, claimed his sword as theirs and sent him to die only for them to get fat. He spotted some of those,too. Fendrel.

Such an elite family. Such a knave fate upon the individual. Unsurprising. The brighter the light, the greater the shades. That family was known for their renown and prowess in the field... but what price would the vassals shoulder for the blood-fueled dreams of men greater than life? That he did not know.

He clenched his yellow hood in his hand, and draped it around his armor, as the metallic sounds of the plate announced his movement. It was then when he noticed one of the fiends. The poor beasts who dreamt to be men among the Red Hoods and had been put under their trust. Sooner or later, they all lost their humanity. Gottfried had no love for vampires, for it was a fate he wished not to the worst of his enemies. And here it was one of them, in the flesh.

Besides him there was a youth, in the garbs of a heathen. His hand reached for his blade at the hilt when catching sight of the vampire, and it stood there for what they seemed eternal moments. His sight then rested on the youth. "Heathen or not, this is no place for kids. Go home." He addressed Edwin, before his words choked in a grunt as his eyes met that that of the vampire.

Eliza

Eliza placed her knapsack in the carriage her mentor had called for her. Inside the soft leather bag were chunks of clay, a journal filled with handwritten notes, materials for her bottled spells and, of course, charms and inanimate creatures of all different varieties. The carriage itself was worn, with chips of black paint missing and slight chinks in the wood. The two horses that were assigned to pull the carriage were old, but they looked well fed and the coachman seemed to take care of them. Eliza couldn't be happier. It was as if she were a babe, taking her first steps out into the world without the guidance of her parent. She would no longer be coddled. The trials and tribulations she would face as she learned to combat evil would be great. In the end, she would come out a better, more learned person. The coachman took his place after checking the horses' gear and gave Eliza the okay to get in. With a grin, Eliza placed her foot on the small stepping stool and began climbing in.

"Are you ready?" Eliza jumped as the smooth, somewhat melancholy tones of her mentor's voice flitted through the air and struck her ears. Stepping off the stool, she turned and threw her fist over her heart -effectively showing off her branded forearm- before bowing. It was the standard greeting between mentor and student. At least, it was what he had taught her to do upon seeing him. When she rose from her bow, he waved dismissively, stepping closer and wrapping her up in a warm embrace. "I'll miss you dearly."

Eliza's eyes widened at the strength of his hold and his choice of words. During their two years together they had shared almost every meal, chattered endlessly about the different types of magic, and on occasion dived into their pasts, sharing secrets that no one else knew. They had grown close, but it was always a surprise when he showered her with affection, preferring to keep their relationship platonic. He released her only moments after Eliza relaxed into his grip and returned the hug, looking her up and down to see if she truly was ready to go.

"I've got everything I need, they'll provide us with food at the Keep I'm sure." She wasn't a picky eater, but she rarely found herself craving food, which was why she hadn't packed any for the short journey. Perhaps once she began training she'd grow more hungry. "I'll miss you, but I should be on my way."

He nodded, though it was barely perceptible. Tears stung the corners of Eliza's eyes without warning, so she hurriedly turned and climbed into the coach. Reaching outside the carriage, she gestured to the driver and in seconds they were moving. Turning to face her mentor one last time, she gave him her brightest smile before settling back and closing her eyes.



The ride to the Keep was relatively short, and Eliza occupied herself by making small figures out of the clay she had packed. The roads were bumpy, and the results were usually shoddy at best so she ended up squishing them between her fingers. She had plenty of clay beings that she had spent days crafting -all currently in cases to preserve their shape- so she didn't mind destroying the creations she spent only a few minutes on.

Once the carriage halted, she knew they had arrived. Outside, she could hear men and women alike shouting. Looking out the window, she realized they were herding them towards the drawbridge. Once she crossed, she would be trapped inside the Keep if they decided to raise it. Excitement, as well as a healthy dose of anxiety, ran up and down her spine at the thought. She opened the door of her carriage, careful not to hit anyone with it, and ventured out after slipping on her knapsack.

Almost immediately, she bumped into a man with dark, medium length hair and a large scar running down his left arm. Eliza tried not to stare hoping he didn't notice the way her eyes widened upon seeing it. She had experienced immense pain during her branding, but whatever had caused his scarring must've hurt to the same degree or even worse. When she took the time to pry her eyes away from the scar and look up at his face, she noticed he was rather striking.

---

Colin

Down the back of a back alley, about as close to the Red Hoods’ keep as Colin could afford to stay (which was, suffice to say, not particularly close), The Hung Shark was a surprisingly nice little tavern. Sure, the drink was very obviously watered down, and Colin didn’t know what mysterious and terrible curse the barmaid had been placed under that made her talk so much, but it had a good atmosphere, taxidermied shark swinging from the ceiling supports notwithstanding.

It had been a rowdy crowd, despite the ‘alcohol’ being served, and the carnage littering the previously well put together front of house meant that he had to carefully pick his way through a minefield of smashed bar stools and sticky puddles of something that he hoped to god was just spilt beer. He paused mid step, best to make one less check that he had everything with him before setting off. He set his stuffed pack down on one of the less wobbly chairs and released the hide string keeping it shut. A quick inventory revealed that he had everything he needed for travel, although his canteen was only half full, and he was a fair few coins shorter than he should’ve been. Satisfied, he closed the bag again and clipped his bow and half-full quiver of arrows to the back. He swung it over a shoulder and did a quick check to ensure his twin daggers, a gift and therefore perhaps the nicest items he owned, were still secured to his belt. They were, so he made for the door.

The sun had barely started to rise, and tomato clouds tipped orange light through the single window near the ceiling. What was it Angus used to say about red skies in the morning? Nothing good, that was for certain. Not there was a whole lot he could do about it. He stifled a yawn. The noise, not so much drifting as cannonballing into his room, had kept him up late into the night. Not that Colin minded at the time, in fact, after the long stretches of empty countryside on the journey up, it had been comforting to be around the noise and bustle of a city tavern again. He’d missed it, really; the atmosphere, the sounds of regular people enjoying themselves on a regular night, pouring out their sorrows and songs in equal measure…

Andi had said he would.

He allowed himself a not-quite-smile at that thought of his old boss, but then he pushed it away. He didn’t have time for that. As if to remind him just how little he had time for it, his scar itched. Almost of its own volition, his right hand reached towards the spot just where his rolled-up sleeves stopped, and scratched, stubby nails digging into the twisted, knotted scar tissue. He snatched it away when he realised what he was doing, it was a bad habit, one that he probably would have an easier time ceasing if he ever remembered to apply the ointment that Andi had found for that reason. Forcefully, he pulled his sleeves back down in order to serve as a deterrent, and made his way, finally, out onto the empty, pre-morning streets of Duncaster.



Colin saw the Red Hood Keep long before he arrived, it was hard to miss - grey stone harsh against the opulent buildings that made up central Duncaster. He made quick time through the immaculately cobbled streets, eyes drawn to the twisting spires and marbled walls, the warm, yeasty scent of baking bread drifting through the streets. What would it be like to live somewhere like this? It was unlikely the residents of these buildings had to sleep with a knife beneath their pillow and barricade their doors every full moon. He was uncomfortable, skin crawling with a feeling that he couldn’t quite place as he became very aware of his own scuffed, uncomfortable boots and oft-mended clothing. This wasn’t a place for the likes of him.

Soon, he arrived at the keep. He paused, taking in the scene around him. It was impressive to say the least. What was less impressive, however, was when a rickety carriage almost ran him over. He stumbled somewhat, before straightening himself, only to be almost bumped into again. He turned, irritation twisting in his stomach as prepared to face his assailant, only to be met by a young woman.

He couldn’t help but squirm as he noticed her soft brown eyes immediately flicking to the arm. He must have rolled his sleeves up during the walk and not noticed. It was too late now, he supposed, as he noticed a few others staring at the gnarled appendage. He knew what it looked like, what it said about him and his life, and the judgement it drew wasn’t something he particularly cared for.

The woman though, her eyes… he didn’t see judgement. Just kindness, and he instantly warmed to her.

"My apologies! I didn't mean to slam into you." She began, offering up a small smile. "I'm Eliza, and you are?"

“’S all right, no harm done” he smiled in return, his accent, though softened by the years he spent in Sinstead, was clearly of Northern origin, “I’m Colin, you here for the initiation?"

Eliza's grin only widened upon hearing his accent. She had grown accustomed to the throaty way Northerner's annunciated their words during her time as a barmaid. Once she processed what he had said, she let loose a light chuckle. "I suppose I don't look the part, do I?" Where he had toned muscles and loved weaponry strapped to his back, she had little more than her charms and her overwhelming spirit. This would have to change before she got struck down on the field due to her lack of skill. "But yes, I am here for initiation."

"Are you any good with that bow of yours? Or do you have some other trick up your sleeve?" She asked him, beginning to walk. Her strides were small, in the hopes that he would follow alongside her. She was curious about Colin. Being the first person she met on her journey toward greatness made him all the more intriguing.

“Shit, sorry, that, err, I didn’t mean you weren’t…” his ears burned as he stumbled over his words, the thought that he might’ve made her feel insecure with his carelessness impossible to ignore. He pushed away the impulse to scratch at the scar, “I just meant, y’know, that I am too, here for the initiation,” he paused momentarily as she started to walk towards the drawbridge, before quickly making to follow. There was something about Eliza, more than just friendliness, she just seemed… light, in a way that not a lot of people were, and that couldn’t really be ignored once you’d noticed it.

At her question about his bow, his tone became enthused, “You mean Nessie? Yeah, I can shoot an arrow into a bloodsucker if that’s what you’re on about, not as good as the hoods archers though, although hopefully I might get to be one day,” he loved archery, there was something about that moment of utter concentration, that breath, and then… he pulled himself away from the momentary distraction, “I s’pose I can stab pretty good too,” he continued, “but generally if a vamp’s that close you’ve gone wrong somewhere down the line.”

He tried to figure out what Eliza’s preferred style of combat might be. He couldn’t see any visible weapons on her person, and regardless, her small frame meant she’d probably struggle to even lift the kinds of swords some of the gathered crowds were lugging around, never mind fight with one. That left only one option really, “So…” he began nervously, “I'm guessing you do some sort of magic?”

Eliza accepted his apology with a dismissive wave. She had made the assumption that he hadn't meant to offend her, he just didn't seem like that type of man. She also wasn't one to linger on harsh words, even if they slandered her race or family. Many considered her a pushover because of this, but she was keen on taking the high ground. After all, everyone she knew had moments of weakness where they said the wrong thing without meaning it, and she was no exception. Before she had made amends with the people of her past, she had been filled with regret at everything she had let slip whilst drunk or angry. Now that she had done all the fixing her heart required, she retained the ability to remain remorseless.

Eliza gave Colin her utmost attention as he spoke, her eyes lighting up with mirth as he told her his bow's pet name. When he regaled her with his talk of slaying vampires, she couldn't help but look around at their audience. She assumed there were vampires in the crowd, sentenced to serve under the Red Hoods. Still, she didn't bother to shush Colin, because she didn't particularly care for the vampiric race. It was wrong of her, but her religious teachings told her that vampires were not embraced by the Goddess, as they feasted upon the lifeblood of humans and Spellcasters alike. Perhaps once she got to know what their kind was like, she'd begin to understand them and sympathize with them more. For the time being, she would keep her prejudice.

"I'd hate to be on the receiving end of a vampire's outburst." She commented, watching as his gaze wandered over her. Not in a strange, perverted way. It was more like he was sizing her up, trying to see what she had to offer. She could see the shift in his gaze, the moment he noticed that she carried no weapons, and came to the conclusion that she must be a magic user. Her continuous smile faltered, but she took off her knapsack anyways and began to rummage through it, eager to show him that magic was more fun than frightful. Digging out a case labeled 'flight', she opened it to reveal a painted clay butterfly. Though the clay was still soft, it was incredibly lifelike, with veins in its thin wings and two spindly antennae. She also pulled out one of her bottled spells, this one labeled 'ice'. It contained a small blue flower and a few crystals, all floating in a clear, iridescent liquid. She offered them up Colin, hoping to impress him.

"I'm a charm maker. I can bring that butterfly to life, and that bottle is actually an elemental spell! If I activated it, your hand would be frozen in a block of ice." She showed off her toothy grin, incredibly proud of her work. It had taken a week to craft that butterfly and nearly a month of going through different recipes to finally perfect the ice-in-a-bottle spell. "If you're curious about how anything works, I can explain it to you. It's nothing bad, I swear."

Colin watched as she retrieved a small case, curious in spite of himself. In truth, he didn’t know very much about magic. Street performers mostly, especially in recent years, hoping to earn coin with tricks of the eye and the mind. He’d heard rumours of course, of dark practitioners, and sacred things traded away down dimly lit alleys in exchange for a moment indulging in fantasy, or more often, revenge.

Eliza, bless her heart, did not look like the type be doing anything down a back alley, dimly lit or otherwise.

And so, he allowed himself to indulge his curiosity as she handed him the beautiful sculpture. He took it in his hand, gently, afraid to break it. Colin had never seen anything like it before in his life, it was soft and delicate, although it was clearly modelled from clay, he could not fathom how. It looked like all he would have to do would be to blink, and it might fly away before his very eyes. The bottle, although less spectacular, was equally beautiful. Enamoured, he held it to the light for a better view, allowing the sun to shine through and dance between the crystals.

He listened diligently to her explanation, the passion she had for her work obvious in her expression and the way she spoke. He could imagine her, sat in a little workshop, or wherever it was spellcasters honed their craft, pouring hours into the creations she’d presented. But still, it seemed… he wasn’t sure, but there was a part of him that recoiled from the idea of the otherworldly, “That’s… amazing, really, but isn’t it, I dunno, risky to be messing around with stuff like that?” He gave a barely perceptible frown, considering the bottle, “I mean, you could really hurt someone with something like this if you did it wrong or something,” he handed the objects back to her, right hand twitching slightly towards his left at that thought, “sorry if that seems harsh, in all honesty I don’t really know much about magic and stuff, for all I know it’s perfectly safe.” his brow wrinkled, a thought crossing his mind, "Do you think... do you think you could maybe show me, sometime? How it works and all that? I would like to know more, even if it is risky. Only if you want to, of course."

Retrieving her items, Eliza took a quick glance at her surroundings. Surprisingly, during their brief conversation, they had made it all the way to the drawbridge. Countless amounts of people were funneled into the opening of the Keep, to the point where Eliza wondered how they would all manage to fit inside. She hoped there wouldn't be any conflict once they entered, but with all the different personalities she was sure something would happen. Of course, the threatening presence of the Red Hoods would keep some people quiet. Pausing, she waited for a space in the crowd so they could continue walking side-by-side without interrupting the conversation. It was quite an interesting one, after all. She had always had a difficult time convincing people that magic was a good thing. She supposed it was similar to the way a vampire would have a difficult time convincing someone that they weren't evil. Some people were more open to the idea, while others had shut off their mind completely. She could tell that Colin was walking the line, his scale balanced between the two ideas. She wanted to tip him towards acceptance because there were so many people out there that didn't accept her kind.

"The same way you could mortally wound someone by throwing your knives around carelessly, I could mortally wound someone by setting off a charm bottle without warning." She began, flipping her knapsack's cover shut and slipping it over her shoulders once again. "It all depends on how the magic is being used. Some mages use it for evil deeds, and there are others that utilize it for the greater good. It's a weapon, but so is Nessie." Of course, there were mages who only used magic for pleasure, but she'd explain that to him later. When he commented on the fact that magic could be completely sound, she paused, reaching out to grab his good arm and halting him for a moment. A few people behind them cursed at the interference, but she didn't mind. Her eyes went hard, and her pitch turned low. "That being said, never blindly trust magic. Yes, there are some practices that are 'perfectly safe', but there are others that appear safe on the surface only to end up being devastating. That is how most mages end up being taken in by the dark arts."

Releasing him, her eyes softened once more and she continued walking. Merrily, she nodded her head at his final suggestion. "I'd love to show you some things about the safer side of magic, if you could show me how to wield a dagger." She figured she would at least try to get something out of this. As much as she loved teaching people, she loved being taught even more. Plus, if her magic ever failed her, she would need a backup.

She had a point, he supposed, if he looked at it from that point of view, then it made sense. Magic was a tool, like Nessie, like his knives, like the swords and the armor carried by the people around them, and in a sense, like the red cloaks worn by the hoods themselves - all ways to exert power over another, whether for good or for bad. At their heart, spellcasters were essentially human, just with the ability to do the things a normal human could only want to. Not like the monsters - they weren’t motivated by a maddening thirst rendering them soulless creatures, nor driven mad by the tides of the moon and the beast, both literal and metaphorical, inside.

A hand, out of nowhere, grabbed his arm. For a moment, his heart stuttered, muscles tensed, and then he relaxed. Just Eliza. He would have laughed at himself and his overreaction if he hadn’t noticed her voice taking on a very serious tone. Her eyes darkened, and he grew wary in response as she spoke, warning him of the dangers of magic, the rest of the world seeming to fade into nonimportance in response.

And then, just like that, she was off again. Colin took a moment to recover from the sudden change back to their light-hearted tone but was soon following. He grinned at her offer “Sure, I can show you a few things, word of warning though, I’ve mostly only ever been the student, not the teacher. It’s a useful skill to have though, especially if you get cornered or something.”

They were approaching the inside of the keep, and Colin couldn’t help but momentarily forget about his conversation partner, opting instead to stare in open-mouthed awe. It was huge! If the outside of the keep made little attempt to match its surroundings, then the inside was quite the opposite; marbled walls trimmed with what surely mustn’t have been real gold, lacquered wood flooring, so shiny he was scared to step on it, a lush red carpet, draped in opulent heaps over a central stage, and not to mention the amount of people. It was yet another new experience, in a day that had already been full of them, and Colin’s head was starting to spin with all the new information.

The older redcoats stared at them as Colin and Eliza, along with what he assumed must be the other new initiates thanks to their lack of the characteristic red cloaks, were ushered to the centre of the room. A thrill of dread ran through him. What was going to be asked of them? He glanced at Eliza - at least he had someone he seemed to get along with for whatever lay ahead.

He was ready, he decided. There was no goin-

“Watch it, dobber!” Colin winced at the sudden unexpected impact and the accompanying harsh words. He’d done it again, hadn’t he? He was not having a good day as far as the whole ‘not bumping into people’ thing went. He looked up at the man - he had a reedy build, but judging from the combination of battle scars, red cloak, and the authoritative way he moved about the keep, he was not someone to be crossed.

He tried to hide the angry aching of his arm, biting down on the inside of his cheek. It wasn’t that bad, and the impact had been quite hard. He held up his other hand to concede, “Sorry, didn’t see you there,” he said, trying not to invoke the man’s apparently bottomless well of ire.

---

Upon entering the Keep, Eliza marveled at the magnificent interior. The outside had appeared stony and cold, but the inside offered a touch of lavishness that she hadn't been expecting. She only hoped that this would carry into their bedrooms, but it was more than likely that they were going to be sleeping on the ground since there were so many people to accommodate. She turned to look at Colin, her brow furrowing when she wasn't able to spot him. After a few moments of frantic searching, she narrowed in on him. He had been pushed back a few paces by the flood of people, and though she couldn't hear what he was saying over all the chatter in the hall, she saw his lips moving as he spoke to a man in a red cloak.

Attempting to get back to him, she paused upon seeing a flash of deep red hair. Hair that belonged to someone just a tad bit shorter than she. To a woman in loose-fitting clothing that concealed a beautiful figure she had only seen once, on accident. But, it simply couldn't be her, could it? Glancing between Colin and the woman, she decided she would finish up her conversation and pray she could find the girl again. Rushing through the crowd towards Colin, she tapped him on his good shoulder and hurriedly said, "I have an old friend to catch up with, but I promise I'll find you later. Remember our deal!"

With that, she was off. The Goddess must've blessed her path because it only took a few short minutes to find her again. Eliza would recognize those grey eyes anywhere. After all, they had been good friends up until last month. "Brighid?" She questioned, reaching out to grasp the girl on the shoulder.

---

---

---

---

---

---

Brighid looked around the keep that she was hustled into. Trepidation poured off her in waves. This could be where she died. Becoming the beast would kill her. Frustration quickly replaced trepidation as she let out a shaky breath. Things became more complicated since two weeks ago when she'd been bitten. She had to relearn her body with all the changes. Her magic...well that was a sore spot.

She was glad she'd been sentenced to the Red Hoods. It made her conviction easier. It however did not make her situation easier. Speaking of situation the irons she was chained in clanked with the sway of the carriage.

“Well looks like this is your stop, lovely.” Her present jailer lurching with the sudden stop. She’d been with the lecher longer than she cared for. If she wasn’t going from the frying pan to the fire she’d appreciate the fact that she was leaving behind the foul man. The stench of unwashed body had permeated her nose for far too long. He swung open the carriage door and handed her chain over to a younger man.

Brighid rose and went to the door that he pointed to. The lecher reached out and put his hands on her person. She stiffened and hurried out of the carriage as he freely groped her backside. Unbidden an animal growl came from deep within her and she lifted her lip snarling. He choked on the laugh as he caught sight of her face. Her eyes blazed with rage and hatred and he went pale as he slammed the door shut and the younger man jerked the chain forward then stepped past her and caught the window of the door.

“Sentenced or not that is not how you treat a woman. The moment she accepted the fate of an Initiate she became a potential Red Hood. Show enough respect for the outfit or don’t bother asking for our help later.” Brighid stared at the younger man in shock, her anger snuffed out like a candle flame in the wind.

Brighid didn’t think it was possible but the lecher got paler and looked waxen. “M-m-my apologies Mage O’Shay.” As the young man let go of the window the carriage took off. He watched it for only a moment as he turned back to her.

Brighid opened her mouth to thank him but he jerked the chain and pulled her closer. “You need to control the beast not let it control you or you might as well ask for death. Don’t thank me that display was not for you it was for him. He will think next time and live longer. Come on let’s get you inside.”

---

“So did you pick a discipline?”

I smiled and nodded. It was the first vacation that I’d had from schooling. I was eager to get back home and tell my older brother all about how I’d be able to come with him on his adventures and be a help.

“I picked Healing. I actually good at it. Of course we get a basic training on other elements but I can’t wait till I’m good enough to go on adventures with you and help.”

Declan leaned down and kissed my forehead grinning. “You tell Ma and Pa yet, poppet?”
I shook my head beaming at him. “Nope. You first.”
Declan laughed and playfully pulled me back to the house from the barn where he had found me trying to charm a litter of kittens to me.

Suddenly the memory turned dark. Declan a couple of years older his light brown hair drenched in sweat pulling me through the snow.

“You have to keep going, poppet. There is a village not but two miles south of that peak.” He pointed up at a part of the mountain that I’d be able to see from past the trees.

“But that means I leave you.” I protest.

“Brighid listen to me. You have to run. Run till you feel like you can’t run anymore then run more for me. I will lead them away. Please run. You must. All my love and more always poppet.” Declan hugged me tightly then pushed me away toward the treeline.

“I love you too, big brother.”Tears streaming down my face knowing this is the last time I will see my brother I run. And run. Then I run more. Soon I hear something. I run faster and the harsh panting is not me. It does not howl for it’s pack. It stalks me alone. I know the others are not dead I hear them.

It is playing games with me I just know it. Finally I tire of running. I turn and face it. At this point why not?

---

The chain jerks and she stumbles pulled out of her own head. The young man heads into the keep. This keep in no way was what one would consider pretty. It was made of sturdy siege weapon with standing rock. Rather than looking like it could possibly fit into the landscape it seemed to revel in the fact that you knew that it was there.

Brighid kept her head down but without a cloak her hair was on prominent display. Sometimes having red hair was a pain. She almost tripped on someone as the young man jerked the chain closer to himself. Deciding that looking at her surroundings was better than tripping and being dragged she picked up her head. Scanning the crowd she spotted the fair hair and profile of someone she could swear she knew.

Yes it was Fendrel, Sadon Fendrel _@Inertia. He was in chains like herself. Interesting. Brighid wondered why. Maybe she’d be able to talk to him later.

She stiffened as she heard a familiar voice farther off. It was Eliza _{@MsMorningstar}. Brighid almost started crying. Almost. Eliza had quickly become her best friend the last few years. She didn’t want Eliza to see her chained. She’d have asked for death before she put a look of pity on Eliza’s face. She hadn’t seen Eliza in a month or so. She mentioned that she’d be going with her brother up north.

---

My Healing studies were going splendidly and I was able to be an asset to the party. Plus Declan didn’t like leaving me on my own. Something about boys being more persistent in courting me. I had no idea what he was talking about since no one but his friends ever came over.

I wasn’t blind, the boys in school stared at me and flirted but that was it. Honestly my brother had, I was convinced, thought I wasn’t aware where babies came from. We were raised on a farm…

---

The hand on her shoulder snapped Brighid back to reality and Eliza speaking her name had Brighid turning to her with a numb expression. Not quite achieving blank nor really wanting to.

“Hello Eliza.”

As murmurs and utterances danced across the crowded mass, the commander's stoic composure began to turn, impatience causing her eyebrows to furrow. She glanced to the robed figure on her right and gave a quick, subtle nod. The figure lifted a leg and brought it back down with a force that gave birth to thunder. It was time for silence. As all eyes turned in their direction, the commander gave the figure a curt smile before looking at the initiates and her fellow hoods.

“I,” she began, projecting her voice loudly, “am Commander Blanchette Rouge. You may call me Commander, Commander Rouge, or Sir.” As she spoke, she pointed both of her hands toward her adjacent associates. “To my left is Captain Anthony Jericho who heads up the Red Guard. He may be addressed as Captain or Captain Jericho. To my right is Zeke. You may not address him at all.” Commander Rouge took a step off the stage and started slowly walking among the crowd as they parted to give her way.

“You are Initiates. You are not Hoods. Not yet. Your path to Red will be treacherous and challenging. You won't even be Yellow until you prove to me that you're worth the room and board. You are guppies. My job is to turn you into sharks. For those who choose to live life in blissful ignorance, let me explain who we are.

“We are the Red Hoods. We are a sovereign nation of protectors against the supernatural. We are not bound by the laws of Man, but are sworn to protect them. That's the trade. We are licensed to judge, sentence and execute. There are a few factions within our ranks. There's the Initiates: The Living Nobodies. As Initiates, you are visitors in our home and enjoy none of the benefits of being a Hood until you prove your worth. Once you do, you will be a Yellow Hood, a prospect. Yellow Hoods will operate under the supervision of at least one Red at all times. Yellows must have approval before killing and any unauthorized independent operations of a Yellow will be met with severe and swift consequences. Eventually, you might earn your Red Hood. More likely, though, you'll simply die trying. There are Red Hoods and there is the Red Guard. Think of the Red Hoods as specialized agents of the Order and the Red Guard as it's military. You don't convince the Lords and Ladies of the land that you're immune to their laws without having armored muscle behind your back. If you make it to Red status, you can opt to contact Captain Jericho about joining the Guard, but none of you are anywhere close to having to worry about that consideration.”

Her eyes met each candidate's as she walked between them all, making a slow circle before she stepped back up onto the raised platform. “There are monsters in this batch,” she stated, catching some of the tells from some of the candidates. “Good. You will encounter creatures of various natures in the field. Our mission is to put them down or tame them. Sometimes it takes a monster to catch a monster. All initiates will live on campus or be welcome to room at our various satellite sites. No matter what province you are in, chances are there's a Red Hood base or safehouse. Your instructors will teach you more about the organization and your personal missions as time goes on. For now, it's time for you to be seen to your rooms. You will have bunkmates that your instructor will choose. Get to know them because later today, your life will be in their hands and vice versa. Those who survive the first trial will earn their first meal. Good luck.”

Commander Blanchette and her two associates casually left the stage and headed down a hallway, leaving the rest of the brood behind them.

---

"Right! Ya heard tha Commander! Move out!" Finlay was quick to shout as he tried to herd the new recruits down a different hallway. The remaining Red Hoods just stood where they were, watching as the new recruits shuffled away. Finlay pushed himself to the head of the pack so that he could take lead and show them where the bunks were. After a right turn down a new hallway, they came across a series of open doors. Finlay turned around to address the initiates.

"I am Finlay Dougal. While you're in tha Keep, I am yer point o' contact. Do as I say and there won't be a problem. We're gonna split inta groups o' four with one short ta three." Finlay stopped for a moment to retrieve a parchment from his back pocket. "Dragomir, Cohen, Chase and Fendrel... Move your arses, you're in this one," he said, pointing to the room to the immediate right. "Album, Devout, O'Shay and Whitlock... This one," he said, pointing to the room to the left, across the hall from the first. He began to backpedal to the next set of doorways as he called out the last group. "Celestina, Von Lilen, and Rivington... Here ya are." All said and done, he put away the parchment and looked to the initiates once more.

"It's like the Commander says, get settled in, but not too settled. Hell awaits. Be ready!" With that, he turned away, striding back down the hall from whence came.

Finlay stopped for a moment to retrieve a parchment from his back pocket. "Dragomir, Cohen, Chase and Fendrel... Move your arses, you're in this one," he said, pointing to the room to the immediate right.

Vitius stared at the man briefly from underneath his hood before shuffling into his new room. Upon entering he calmly strode over to the far side of the room where the most shadows were. Not because he wished to escape, that would be suicide, but because he wished to find a place from which he could view the actions and reactions of the other's placed with him as they entered.

That and the light from the torches that seemed to be mounted on practically every wall in this damn keep was starting to irritate his eyes. Letting out a barely audible sigh, Vitius leaned against the wall behind him and grimaced slightly as the chains binding him rattled when he moved, once again reminding him of the fact that he was no longer human and would most likely never be treated as such again.

Vitius's lips formed into a thin line at both the thought and his slowly rising blood lust as he waited for the other's to enter.

---

---

---

---

---

---

Brighid looked at the others in the hallway then down at her chains. “Lehta.” The lock clicked open and the chains slid off her hands at which point she looked over at Finlay. “You might need these at some point for someone.” She didn’t wait for him to take them she put them in his hand. She had learned recently that being sweet earned you misfortune eventually and something was growing inside her to rise to the occasion.

She turned to the others her eyes as hard as diamonds. “My name is Brighid O’Shay. You will use either Brighid or O’Shay. I will not be referred to as she-wolf, bitch, girl, woman, or any other derogatory name you come up with. And I will afford you the same basic courtesy. I am not here to be a whipping boy to any of your resentments nor will I tolerate anyone else being abused by your prejudice and bigotry if you have any. I am here for my own reasons and even if I had not been turned in by the village I stumbled into after being attacked I would still be here. Yes I was sentenced but if I had the presence of mind at the time I’d have volunteered. As it is I was out of my mind with a fever and was isolated till the Red Hoods called for me. So those of you who wish to berate me, the vampire,” She indicated Vitius _@ZAVAZggg. She watched him walk off still chained. “The newly turned?” She indicated Nyssa _@Damo021 then inhaled and shook her head and shrugged moving on. “The fairy,” She indicated Loona _{@Tenma Tendo}. “The...summoner,” She indicated Edwin _@Duoya raising an eyebrow since he smelled faintly of sulphur. She approached him and unlocked his chains with a firm, “Lehta.” She then took his chains to Finlay. Turning back to the group her eyes still hard swung over them. “Fendrel,” She indicated Sadon _@Inertia coming over to him she looked down at his chains she sneered at them as if they were alive. “Lehta.” Then turning to Finlay and handing over those chains as well. Finally she turned to Bartholomew _@Argetlam350 and indicated him as she said “Or the male werewolf.” She stated as she reached for his chains and they fell and again she deposited them with Finlay. Turning back to the group once again meeting everyone’s eyes. “For what they or I had no choice in being then by all means do so. But know that also means that I don’t have to heal you. Yes I am a healer and a werewolf. Deal with it. That being said I also don’t expect that we monsters... I use the term loosely, for I have met humans that are more monstrous than any werewolf or vampire ever recorded… will hold such hatred inside of us for at the very least those we will be working with closely.”

She cut her eyes across the group and walked into the room with the vampire and stopped in front of him. She looked up at him the smile she had on her face sad and did not reach her eyes. She reached out and caught his chains in her grasp. “Lehta.” The chains popped open and she gathered them up and nodding to him she turned and walked to the doorway. “I will not judge you on something you cannot control. If you need anything let me know. My name is Brighid O’Shay. I shall be across the hall.” She took the chains out the doorway with her.

Walking over to Finlay she handed him the final set of chains. “Hopefully you won’t need them for anyone here again.” She turned back to the group. “So now that I’ve introduced myself who’s next?”

Eliza stared at Brighid, shock clear on her face. There was no pity, but it was evident that Eliza was mortified. Her best friend, in chains? She had gone to visit her brother, and ended up sentenced to the Keep? How? Why? The redheaded girl's expression was bordering on blank, but not quite reaching it. Eliza retracted her hand, glancing down at the chains that bound her. She was a healer, this was not where she belonged. Not by force, at least. A million plans went through Eliza's head, most of them centered around how she would get Brighid out of the Keep. She opened her mouth to say something, anything that could help the situation at hand. Perhaps she would have said the beginner unlocking spell, or perhaps she would have simply said her name, offering comfort. Unfortunately, she didn't get a chance to say anything, as a thunderous stomp shook the room until everyone went silent. At least, mostly silent. Utterances could still be heard from testy rogues.

The speech the commander gave was to the point, albeit full of grandiose. It both invigorated and frightened Eliza. She had known long before she made her decision to join the Hoods that it was a dangerous job. She also knew she would be facing a lifelong battle against death at the Keep, but when the words left Blanchette's lips, it was all suddenly made real. Once the speech was over, she quickly turned back towards Brighid, but the crowd soon began to shift and if she didn't move with it she'd be trampled. She shouted Brighid's name, unsure if the healer heard her, before starting to go with the flow of the crowd.

It wasn't long before they were herded into a wing of the castle full of doors that most likely led to their chambers. Eliza looked around for familiar faces, relieved to see that Brighid and Colin were here with her. When Finlay shouted out her room, she began shuffling towards the door after the pale man who had entered before her, stopping when she heard Brighid's voice. She whipped around, eyes wide as she glanced down and realized Brighid was no longer in chains. Had she really unlocked herself in front of their superior? Eliza's eyes flicked towards Finlay, who was now holding Brighid's chains. He must've been shocked.

As Eliza listened to Brighid's impromptu speech, her jaw went slack and she looked around the room, wondering if everyone else was hearing this or if she was just going insane. Brighid...was a werewolf? Her usually softspoken friend was a werewolf? That was why she had been chained up? What had she done that had caused her to be isolated? Eliza could barely process this information, but she had to step up before her friend got herself killed. She sent a quick prayer to the Goddess, begging her to forgive Brighid's arrogance, before pushing through the people and stepping up towards her friend.

"Brighid? What in Goddess' name are you doing?" She said, her voice a hushed whisper. "These people were chained for a reason, you can't just unlock them because you believe what you're doing is right. They can punish you for this." She turned towards the crowd of people. They had a summoner, vampires, and another werewolf in their midst. Even a fairy, who Eliza hadn't noticed before since she was only just bigger than a dragonfly.

"You're a prisoner, Brighid," She hissed, trying to be the voice of reason. She glanced around the room, shooting Finlay a nervous smile. "You may have wanted to volunteer, but in the end they brought you here in chains. Now, I'm going to step away, and you're going to help your superior officer put everyone back in their chains. Please." She took a step back, hand reaching for her bag. She opened it and fumbled around for a charm of compliance, gripping it as she let loose a big sigh. Now she just had to keep the crowd controlled until Finlay could take control of the situation.

"Hello...I'm Eliza, some of you may already know me." She found Colin and sent him a shaky smile. "It's a pleasure to meet you all. I'm a Spellcaster, not a spellcaster werewolf like my-" She nearly said friend, but swiftly corrected herself. No one had to know that they were close. "Like, Brighid, here. Not a summoner, either." She stared pointedly at the Spellcaster that Brighid had pointed out as a summoner.

"I specialize in making creatures and charms. Out of clay. I'd show you, but I don't want to use magic without express permission from my superior." She turned towards Brighid with hard eyes, calling her out for her behavior. Turning back to the crowd she smiled once again. "I volunteered to be here, but that doesn't mean I'm better than any of you. In fact, I just want us to all get along. 'Monster' or human, I just hope we can be friends -at least, acquaintances- and not kill each other before we get our hoods."

"Now, who wants to go next?" She asked, sending a purposeful look in Colin's direction. Please, she begged mentally, just distract them.

---

Following Finley after the Commander's speech, Tholo and the rest of the initiates were lead to where they would be bunking. While getting the feeling he'd never really like Finley he did listen to him as he shouted out who would be staying with who in the bunk rooms as he shouted out names. Of course at the time it would be slightly more difficult for those forced into the hood, as they were still chained. However a solution seemed to provide itself with one of the new initiates who stated her name was Brighid O'Shay.

At that moment Tholo was uncertain if the woman, who was also a werewolf he soon found out as she stated and by scent when she was close and had removed his shackles, was either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid. While he was glad to finally be rid of the chains, there was no telling what Finley would do now. When the only thing to happen was one of the other initiates voiced there own concerns and then state there name, Tholo decided to take his opportunity to speak.

"My name is Bartholomew Whitlock. Tholo will do fine to keep it short," he states introducing himself ",As for your statement Miss Eliza, I for one will not put the chains back on. We have much of right as you to walk freely through the halls. We are past the point of no return as is, chains won't change that matter. Volunteers or forced to join, now we are stuck here together. Keeping chains on one group while the others walk free will simply divide us instead of build trust. Outside when there was a chance of running was understandable to have those forced to join chained but now running isn't an option. Unless Finley says otherwise my chains stay off." Voicing his opinion he walked to the room Finley had stated he would be bunked in giving a bow to O'Shay.

"I thank you for the release of the shackles," he stated before entering the room.

---

---

An ear-piercing stomp roared throughout the hall- echoing a few times before dissipating. The low whispers and murmurs becoming pin-drop silence. Well, as silent as a bunch of rogues can muster. The speech that followed had a similar vibe to speeches made by his grandfather, the current patriarch of the Fendrel family. Needless to say it was a grandiose speech that leaned more on intimidation with a dash of inspiration. Soon they were quickly herded into clusters. Sadon's ears perked up when his last name was called. A few eyes were on him, likely from being referred to as 'Fendrel'.

---

Sadon was about to step into his room before he caught a familiar face; an acquaintance, O'Shay, Brighid O'Shay. She was the last person he expected here, sentenced no less. He had hoped that her reason for being here was not as bad as his. Before he could greet her she began releasing the chains of the sentenced with a spell. He raised a curious eye at this and tried to scuttle away, however she had already grasped his arms, the locks clicked and his hands were freed.

"Well, that's not good." Sadon mumbled, massaging his newly freed wrists. He had wanted to avoid trouble and recognition, but Brighid had already outed him by his last name so there was little point in hiding it. After she had introduced herself some had followed suit. He would keep these names in mind, making a special note to those who weren't human. While he had somewhat agreed with Brighid, her method came across as too heavy handed, even for someone as dense as him. Especially for those sentenced, whom he felt was likely to be punished more harshly. Sadon desired to just to blend in and be ignored, but this particular group had now stood out amongst the other initiates. He felt a pang of pity for the other girl- Eliza, who tried to reason with Brighid, though she seemed to stumble on herself. Others introduced themselves and left, some looked worried while some had a pleased look about them.

Sadon sighed. Raising both hands to the sides of his faded hood, he tugged it back a little. His grey, ashen hair pushed through- a trademark of his family, their grey hair being a dominant gene in with all the males and most females. The fabric went slithering down his hair like a living creature, coming to rest at his neck. There was a silent pause after the vampire Vitius had traded his 'life story'.

"I am Sadon, Sadon Fendrel." he said, finding his voice too stiff. "Listen, I am no one special... Maybe you have heard of my family, maybe you have heard the rumours about my brother. They, the- the rumours is just-" He stopped himself, something in him almost pushed him to tell someone, anyone. He recomposed himself. "They're all true, atleast as true as rumours begin with."

With an uncomfortable cough he changed the subject. "I mainly fancy the use of blades in combat. A shield on my right if I find it necessary, otherwise it's two blades. Let's get along."

Sadon stepped up to Finlay with his wrists together, "Chain me up. It matters little to me if I am chained or not. My life, in particular, belong to the Red Hoods- again, chained or otherwise."

He worried a little about what the others might think of him because of this, but he saw little reason to disobey those who held his life in his hands and that such actions would likely just bring them trouble.

---

Interacting With: Everyone Mentions:@Almalthia@MsMorningstar@Argetlam350@ZAVAZggg@Inertia

---

“I don’t understand though Angus, what’d they go an’ hurt that lady for?”

Skull caved in, pink visible, blood, sticky, pooling in hollows left by footsteps in the mud.

“She wasun’ a lady Col’,”

Shopping – parsnips and tomatoes and cabbages, a leg of red, fatty meat, strewn about the mass of silky blonde hair streaked with brown and sticky crimson.

“She were a wolf pretending to be a lady.”

A groan, a half-hearted attempt to lift from the floor.

“Is she the one what took Susie and Marie-Ann from the village?”

Fabric, bright and fluttering in the grey breeze.

“They think so.”

A glint of steel.

“How do they know?”

“They just do.”





“There are monsters in this batch,”

The commander’s words rang in Colin’s ears. Monsters. Here. He should’ve known, been more diligent, more alert – he scanned the room. A woman, the soft bulge of fangs above her lip – except no. Not pale enough. She was human. What was the commander –

The man. With the hood. Of course.

His heart thudded. His blood - ice. Pale skin, just visible through ghostly strands of white hair hanging limp from the man’s hood. The hard to pin-down, but clearly unnatural way he held his mouth – a mouth meant for teeth, not fangs.

Colin’s hands twitched, aching to reach, either for the weapon strapped to his back or the ones hanging from his belt. Legs, similarly, ready to carry him far away at a moment’s notice. The Commander’s armour clinked softly with each step as she moved through the crowd. The bloodsucker was shackled – iron digging into translucent skin, and they were surrounded by the most efficient monster fighting force in the land. He hadn’t been slain where he stood, and Colin wasn’t one to contradict the Red Hoods. They must have needed him for something, what, he didn’t know, but… well, he didn’t really have much choice, did he?



The rest of the keep was decidedly less opulent than the main hall, something which brought Colin a measure of comfort, despite the crawling feeling in his gut and the feeling like the walls were going to crush them all between them. The bare stone that reeked of history, the flickering candlelight that twisted their shadows… terrifying, but more familiar than anything he’d seen all day.

Their footsteps echoed as they followed the man with the scars and the scowl – Finley, apparently – to their rooms. He caught Eliza’s eye. She’d slipped away earlier without his notice, but she’d been talking to what appeared to be a friend of hers, so he’d settled for listening to the speech alone. He was glad they’d ended up with the same group though, she seemed like she’d be a useful ally, hopefully even a friend – plus, that butterfly thing she’d had was awesome.

They came to a stop, and the odd looking group clustered awkwardly around the man as he detailed the particulars of their stay. Who were Celestina and Von Lillen? He supposed he’d found out soon enough.


Crackling, swooshing, whistling. People were speaking – mouths moving. Hot face. Painful chest. Numb Hands.

The walls were wood.

They were going to die.

“Are you trying to get yerself killed lad?”

The woman with the kind eyes was saying something, doing something, towards the woman with the red –

Blood welling up, sinking into the grass

-hair?

The woman with the kind eyes was smiling, scared, what was she saying?

It didn’t matter, harsh words had been exchanged and it was his turn to get wood for the fire.

Did that look mean something?

It was cold and it was dark, and his bare feet sank into the cold loamy Earth as he ran, towards the wood-store with his breath crystal and cloudy and loud.

The giant with white hair-

A hand on his arm.

”No need to scream child, I have no wish to hurt you”

- was talking-

He didn’t.

-Then- Rubbing wrists. Smiling. Why was he so close to her? Why didn’t she-

Stinging.

“Fecking move Lad!”

Jelly knees collapsing, on the ground, stinging turned to ripping.

- run?



Blood soaked into the Earth.

A man, human, was walking across the hall.

A stretching, elastic sound –not ringing or whistling, and oh, sound. "Chain me up. It matters little to me if I am chained or not. My life, in particular, belong to the Red Hoods- again, chained or otherwise."

His hands were shaking – his whole body was shaking.

The sensation of wood beneath fingertips, of a familiar stiff but far from unbearable pain in his bad arm, of Nessy – raised. Arrow strung – pointing at the creature. When had that happened? How was there even room?

His voice, not his voice, but coming from his mouth – “Don’t fecking try anything, bloodsucker. One move, and this arrow’s in your chest.”