Gothopia

A race of Angels, Demons, Vampires, Lycans, and Humans lived peacefully among each other in the prosperous City of Gothopia. Many tales were told about the tale of Gothopia's creation, as well as of its peoples. The ones who told the stories where the Coven of The Bloody Kiss, a second generation, above the newer Gothopian citizens. They told of the First Generation, the Lords and Ladies of Vampire Directory, and of their greatness. What they had omitted from these tales were the wars of the races for supremacy, the drama, and the seduction of each other that eventually led to the creation of the Bloody Kisser. The Coven of the Bloody Kisser had grown weak with time, and unfluencial. The New Children, the Gothopians, who once used to flood the town square in groups to listen to the tales of the Elders had lost interest; they do not enjoy hearing of the great and powerful First Generation. It was like religion, and they just didn't share the belief anymore.


Secretly, in the darker side of the Metropolis that is Gothopia, a group of men and women rallied. They had made their own Coven. These people, a mixed group of each race, were the ones who were always shunned by the newer People. They had always acted weird, and they seemed to have held more knowledge than the Elder Bloody Kissers. They always argued with the Coven, telling them that they were getting the story all wrong. They were twisting truths, and omitting evils. It was understandable, when you want to glorify something, you never want to say any of the evils.


These secret meetings slowly grew larger, more and more people wanted to join them, though a lot were turned down. These were an elitist group, who claimed to be the First Generation, the creators of Gothopian-kind. Nights, Moons went by and the now-aptly-named First Generation surfaced. They did not want war, but they did want their story to be told right.


They gathered all Gothopians to the square and declared themselves to be the Supreme Race:



"We have grown tired of these false, glorified stories." Said a dark, Devil-like man, as he paced across the square, on the cobblestone road, in front of a great Obelisk Monument. "We have surfaced, not to earn your awe, but your respect... and to finally tell the story as it happened."


The people were all entranced by the tone of his voice, and the overall appearance of the group themselves--beautiful, seductive Ladies, and strong Lords.

The dark man sat down on the cobblestone road, and so did the rest of the Group, then all of Gothopia. The Group spoke to each other in an unintelligible language, and finally a soft-spoken Lady cleared her throat then looked onto the Gothopians. She smiled at them and they lowered their guards and relaxed. She started to tell the story, to which the others added.





******





The land of Gothopia was not yet known as such. No one really knew the name of the land, nor how they got there. But the people of this land seemed have liked thriving there each day and night. They loved each others company.

The dark, Devil-like figure, walked down a dark alley in the City. He wore a black cloak, covering his entire body. Dark Fire Demon, as he was known there, didn't quite fancy socializing with the rest. He especially didn't like yielding to the States People, the "Moderators", policemen in their own right. His hood, which enfolded around his head, left a deep, dark void on where would have been his face. Nothing on his facial features was visible, except only when he gave the occasional grin to the people he passed by.

They were very fond of this silver-tongued devil, this Dark Fire Demon. He held too many mysteries that no one knew who he was. He enjoyed that, however, and he had gone by many aliases, all the while the people never knew it was him. He didn't think they cared to know, he didn't care, himself.

He finally reached the end of the alley, and the stone walls that bordered his left and his right merged together in a dead end, and a door. This was a common area, a Club in its own time, but within it lied many taboo acts. Blood drinkers, Lycans and Humans, even mixed races frequented the Tavern Death, as it was called. The atmosphere there was anything but welcoming, but to Dark Fire Demon, it was home.

He slowly made his way to the middle of the tavern, separating the fog that crept on the floor with each carefully measured step. The round, wooden tables around him seemed surreal in that they were the source of all the fog. In fact, the mugs of Liquor and the occasional Chalice of Blood seemed as if they were floating on the mist.

Dark Fire Demon was always a brash man, and without being invited, he sat at a table that was occupied by one as quiet as he, himself, was. And also as infamous. He hadn't known her long, but he fancied calling her Lady Death.


******


She had been there... she did not know how long. Sometimes it felt like an eternity. Time passed, slow and weary it marched across the world, down-trodden. And then it would parade, loudly, offensive to her ears. They called her Mors, though she had gone by many names in this world. One of the more recent ones was... Lady Death.

It was at this thought that the silent human, timeless somehow, yet not... looked up. There sat at her table that silver-tongued devil, whom she had named Lord Fallen Angel. An interesting fellow, to be sure.

She smiles, lips curving upwards. The smile did not touch her star-burst blue eyes. "Why, hello, m'Lord. How are you?" The girl... for she seemed so young, in ways, that she should be called that, leaned forward and ran her fingers along the edge of her glass wine cup. It vibrated and rang with a clear sound, making her smile widen.

The Lady stood and looked about her, trying to gather her thoughts. The room was dark, peaceful. She liked that the sounds here were not loud... unless some were at... play. Games. The like. The lighting was easy on her unusual eyes, too.

Slowly, she turned, thinking. Why was she still here? There had to be a reason... Right? One so logical... and often cold... as she... there had to be a reason. A logical one... Had she stayed because she was growing soft of heart?

One of the few humans to have respect, Mors prided herself on her uncanny mental strength. Logical, cold, willful, and often hidden within her mask of amusement, she was the image of the sort of human would fear... were she not so delicate. Vampires, otherkin... they were like humans in that they, too, judged a book by its cover. Small, delicate, fair-haired, eyed, and skinned... she was almost a porcelain doll in appearance.

Porcelain doll.. what an interesting concept. Perhaps she could use that to deceive others?

She turned back to the dark man. "Would you like a drink, Love?"


******


Amalia was a vampire of mystery who was known as many things to the people of her generation; a friend to those who knew her well, a lover to those lonely men or women who needed a night when their passions could come alive.

Her temptress age would come to an end, however, when she was forced to leave her home of many years, and hide in the shadows of the land to free herself from a past she could never outrun.

She pondered on the many reasons why she left her home earlier in her existence, but decided the time had come to start a new life in a land where she would be a stranger to all.

The moon was bright that night, and looked as though it were kissing her pale white face from a distance. It made the cobble stone road easier to see since the fog was picking up slightly, making her black, cloaked figure slightly disappear as she slowly approached a small building. Tavern Death.

"An interesting metropolis," Amalia thought as she opened the door slowly, not knowing what awaited her inside this dark place. Lowering her cloak hood, she looked around the tavern with her dark blue eyes, and pushed a stray strand of her long red hair behind her ear. She looked to be a mere teenager, which made her quite young compared to the people who would normally reside in this place.

A smirk came to her crimson red lips as she saw a gentleman and lady, who looked to be near her age, conversing, and decided to introduce herself.

"Hello, is there a chance I might get some wine?" her tongue had a slight French accent, she was an obvious foreigner and planned to use that to her advantage if ever an opportunity should arise..."My name is Amalia."


******


Meanwhile, a woman in a dark heavy cloak walked around the streets making her way to the tavern. She was often shunned at times this tavern was a place she was accepted.

Most people knew her as Beautiful Blood, but they called her BB. This mut blood, as most would refer to her mixture, was well loved in this tavern and loved many back. She was well known for her love of daggers and roses. No one knew her real name, but BB fit her just as well. Many times she'd been hit on by men but she simply flirted back.

When she wasn't out walking around she could be found at the tavern sitting on the bar top or actually serving drinks. On this night when she entered she walked to the bar and jumped behind it taking off her cloak revealing her normal--or as some call it her classic--outfit. Which consists of her red corset with black velvet roses on it and her black leather pants, complemented by her healed, black boots and her belt of daggers that would lay perfectly on her hips. Pulling her long blonde hair back out of the way, she let a smile play on her dark red lips.

She waited awhile then out of bordem she decided to ask the question she's asked many times before, raising her voice just enough she talked over the crowd, "Any one want a drink??" Her green eyes met nearly everyones gaze.


******


The silver-tongued devil smiled up at the red-haired lady. He always had a soft spot for beauty, and his cold-hearted, avoidant nature always disappeared in their presence. He took her hand--this humanoid devil still would never lose his brash nature--and guided her to the seat beside him.

At that given moment, he heard the shouted question of Beautiful Blood's and quickly responded, "Beautiful Blood, over here," he motioned for her to come and she did. She never lost her grace as she made her way to the table and stopped beside it. Dark Fire Demon looked up at her and smiled, "Perfect timing," he jested, "we were just about to order a drink, on me. Get yourself whatever you want, a bottle of Vodka for me with two shot glasses--I'll get Lady Death to drink, yet!" He jested once more. "Oh, and some wine--bring your best red wine, for Amalia. And do stay and join us here when you get back." He gave his requests with such demanding, yet subtle--and precisely measured--sentence constructions. She smiled back at the three, and left to the bar to get the drinks.

Dark Fire Demon--Son of Sam to some--looked at the new face, the red-haired Amalia. "I've never seen you around here before, do tell me about your past. I'm rather curious about you--which is quite a statement indeed." He laughed, but before she could answer, Beautiful Blood returned with the ordered drinks and took a seat between Lady Death and Amalia. She set the items on the misty table, and the fog quickly contours around them. "I never learned anything about you ladies, do tell me about yourselves. Quench my curiosity." He spoke again with such precision. He poured the drinks on the three shot glasses and gave them each to the ladies as he waited for them to respond.


******


Mors-- known as the Poker to a few-- smiles softly, a charming, amused, somewhat guarded smile. She shook her head, hair falling her eyes. "I have a feeling, my Lord Fallen Angel... that you could do anything you wish, given the time." This charming devil... for some reason she felt hesitant around him. Perhaps because he was so charming that she felt she could lose herself in him. He was... interesting, to say the least.

The glass... light reflected off it in a most interesting way. She focused on that for a moment, trying to order her thoughts. He wished to know more of her, this Dark Fire Demon? One small, pale, graceful hand reached out to take the glass and swirl the contents around. Clear liquid...

"I am... no one special, m'Lord.No one of consequence, that is. Were you to get to know me... I think I might bore you. Small. Young. Ignorant of the world." She raised her eyes to watch his face, see how he responded to her words. "I hail from the South, though I have once been of the North... and the East. Some consider me of the West, as well. I... write a bit... make music and art. But I am a writer, first and foremost.

"And what of you, Lord Fallen Angel?"


******



He smiled softly under his hood, the void that is his covered face hid this smile. He knew she looked at him, to see how he would respond, but he was confident that she would not see. At the given moment--as he has not been looking directly at light sources, such as from earlier when the Ladies Amalia and Beautiful Blood came--his face would not be seen. His responses, though still precise, were short, "I'm sure you'd not bore me." He looked away for a short moment, glancing at the rest of the people in the tavern--many of them now kissing each other as lovers would, though he doubted they were.

Under his hood, this devil was always thinking. When he looks at someone, he didn't see a person, he saw a book. He would always try to read them. He returned his gaze to the ladies at the same table, "What of me, you ask..." He chuckled for a moment, "Excuse me, I have to take my leave." Quickly, he took each of their hands and kissed them, one at a time.

He had always avoided talking about himself, and that made him a hypocrite at this current time. There had been a ringing in his ear, coming from the west, it seemed to him... the thickest, darkest forest outside of the City. The ringing had gone away but it was replaced by a requesting voice. That was what he had obeyed, and thus the reason for his abrupt departure.

He got up from the wooden stool and started to walk away. He paused, however, and turned around, "Let us finish our conversation later, I've yet to know about the Ladies Beautiful Blood and Amalia, and more about Lady Death." He turned away again, and with the same, measured steps that separated the mist that crept on the floor, he walked towards the exit.

He opened the door and stepped out. Hurriedly, he slammed shut the door and dashed off down the alley, the hollow sounds of his footsteps echoing within its cold, stone walls. He ran past the town square, past the main gates, then towards the dark, and hardly hospitable woods.

He had sensed something, something out of his nature. He sensed something he knew he feared, but somehow he felt he should welcome it. He had sensed something otherwordly, definitely something, or someone who hasn't been in this part of the world for more than three minutes. The feeling was new, he had to avoid this thing or person, be it enemy to the citizens, or friend.

Still, he could not shake the feeling that this being didn't mean harm, and that eventually, he might even befriend them. "Only time will tell..." He whispered to himself as he rested in the woods, sitting on the moist ground, leaning against a large--though rotting--tree.

Meanwhile, outside in the croud, Micky stood there looking at the anouncer. Her pure black eyes stationary on the soothing lady who spoke.

She was of a mixed race and was peculiar in apearance. She had creme colored skin on her face, neck, arms, hands, legs and feet. But had an odd sort of plating made out of fine and thick scales on her chest and abdomen. It looked like a natural full corset. Her hair in the light was blood red with blue highlights and it was cut short and was spiked in the back so it didn't tangle with her wings. Her eyes were pure black with no pupil or iris. Instead of finger nails that as was normal for humans or vampires, her nails were thick, long and pointed razor sharp. Today they were painted black with red tips.

She had on today a flowing dress that was red with black embroidery and a cape, custom made, for her multi-colored wings. It was basicly a cape with two slits in it for the wings but with ties under the wings. She also had on high heeled boots that secretly held blades in the calf and in the heel.

"Finally, we are taking some initiative." She said as she ruffled her wings. People shifted nervously as she did so. She walked off down an alley in time to see Dark Fire Demon come out of Tavern Death and walk down the alley the way she had just come. She stoped and looked at Dark Fire Demon. "Well he is sure in a hurry" she thought to herself, "I wonder where he is going"

She turned back towards the plaza but stoped at the edge of the alley. That was when she noticed a person in complete black walk towards the lady talking on the cobble stone road with a knife in thier hand. "Shit" she thought to herself as she started running towards the person. He was on the Lady as Micky teared him from the Lady and started cutting him with her claws. She shoved him against the wall when he lost consciousness. She turned her head towards the Lady, "Well what do you want me to do with him?"