Wednesday, 1 April 2009

Lord Kingsteignton has a bad afternoon!

Lord Kingsteignton, in a state of shock, gazed into Roland’s burning eyes and futilely tried to break the grip he had around his neck. He was beginning to choke and Roland’s throttling was beginning to bruise the pale, milky skin of his long, scrawny neck.
As Kingsteignton was a cold-blooded creature, he could not understand such passion and anger. His own family were merely pawns to be placed in position and used whenever he chose to further his ambitions. He considered his family to be an entirely private matter; he certainly was never seen in public with any of his wives, and his various children were never registered legally and were made to work or were married off as he saw fit. It suited his purposes admirably to be viewed as a single man; conning rich women out of money was one of his main income streams and admitting to several wives and multiple children would not have enhanced his opportunities in this area. The daughter that de Cazalrenoux was referring to had committed the ultimate crime in his eyes; she had fallen in love with one of the ‘Romanian vampire rabble’ and run off with him when she should have been supervising one of his uranium mines deep in the Carpathian mountains. It was his pride that was injured, not any paternal feelings of love and concern.
As far as Kingsteignton was concerned he had to get his daughter back. No one escaped him ever! If he had to tear those mountains apart with his bare hands rock by rock, he would retrieve what was his! Then she would wish she had never been born and as for those brats he had heard she had spawned.... never had the Kingsteignton bloodline been contaminated like this before! Her tainted offspring must be destroyed and all of those lowlife Romanians with them. This must never happen again!
Roland tightened the grip around Kingsteignton’s neck and started shaking him and banging his head against the wall.
“Where did you get that fur!” he growled into Kingsteignton’s ear his long canines perilously close the vulnerable blue arteries throbbing in his neck.
Kingsteignton ignoring Roland’s request just feebly croaked ‘Steward, Steward, I need help!’
This cravenness and refusal to answer merely served to enrage Roland further.
He suddenly pulled Kingsteignton in so that he was merely inches from his face.
‘Have you ever seen a vampire after it has had its throat ripped out by a wolf’ ground out Roland menacingly?
Kingsteignton was trembling from head to foot by this stage. He personally was not a vampire of violence; that’s what he paid other people for. He did not like seeing or being around violence and the truth of it was he was a coward. Feeding was something he did in a clinical, detached fashion with already supine victims, and even then he was careful not to get the blood on his clothes or skin.
‘Steward, Steward’ he tried to call out again, and tried to inch his body towards the bell-pull. What he did manage to achieve, by luck rather than design, was to crash into the side table sending it crashing into the floor; flowers, water, silverware and broken glass flying everywhere.
The noise caused Roland to release his grip slightly, so Kingsteignton was able to turn towards his saviours when the door came crashing open. The welcome look of relief in his has soon faded however, when he realised that the steward was flanked on either side and being held up by Vladimirescu and von Orloc, both of whom were carrying serviceable, sturdy looking stakes in their hands.

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