Twelve Urges

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Twelve Urges Empty Twelve Urges

Post by SSmith on Thu Aug 10, 2017 10:50 pm

Fear... Violence... Paranoia...

The chosen sacrifice uttered only a sliver of a scream, taken right from the midst of its fellow prey, seized from the shadows when it felt safest. The vampire's cloak of anonymity - an aura of aggressive apathy that had served it well on past hunts - opened like a toothless, black mouth and swallowed the sacrifice whole. If any of its fellows saw it go, they gave no indication, their awareness and fear swallowed as surely as the vampire's victim. Battering the consciousness, or simply the will to fight, out of these creatures was a triviality for the hunter. The risk of discovery had been momentary, but exhilarating, and Dagon was pleased with itself as it stole away with its prize.

Greed... Hatred...

The vampire half carried, half dragged the insensate mortal down into the tunnels it called home, heedless of the bumps and scratches it inflicted as it hauled itself and its victim into and through narrows passages, down into the deepest hollows beneath the city to a place it had carved out with its own claws to serve as the stage for its experiments and rituals. Dagon had no need of the contents of its prey's wallet, but it took the money anyway, crumpling it into a greasy ball and stuffing it into a dirty pocket with a grunt. It was such a petty thing, but it pleased Dagon to do it - it was part of the ritual, and it was gratifying to incrementally take everything away from these creatures. Dagon despised them, but they were required... as food... as fodder for the ritual. Later, the victim's clothing and choice trophies - teeth, fingers, whatever it amused Dagon to take - would join rotting heaps of similar detritus in its subterranean hoard.


The only light came from a sputtering trash fire, which cast long, ugly shadows throughout the chamber, and filled it with a choking miasma of stinging smoke. The vampire dragged its prey into the cell, and dragged the slab that served for a door - far too heavy for a mortal to hope to move - back into place. Heaving its prey to the floor of the chamber, Dagon made no effort to rouse it. The vampire crouched nearby, perched like a gargoyle, and rode the far edge of consciousness, willing itself to wait dispassionately for the sacrifice to awaken. It had long ago determined that to desire a thing too strongly would give that thing power over it. Instead, Dagon had become careful about choosing when to act and when to simply wait. The ritual would either be provided for... or it would not. Even if the sacrifice never awoke - some had succumbed to bleeding on the brain, or drowned in the muck - there would be others.

Lies... Cruelty... Despair...


The sacrifice awoke.

"Oh, shit..."

It was confused.

"Where am I? What's... what's going on?"

Dagon grinned. It moved only enough to draw attention to where it crouched in the shadows, producing an artfully deliberate rustling which drew the attention of its prey from the haze of pain and darkness from which it was only beginning to emerge.

"It's all right," the vampire hissed, turning slightly, spilling a riot of squirming shadows over its victim. "You were hurt. You're safe now."

"Someone hit me..." the prey whined, rubbing its head. "Where am I?" Dagon smacked its bloody lips, but the mortal could only see its shadow, couldn't make out how cruelly it smiled.

"Just rest for a moment... I'll take you back to your friends soon."

Dagon chuckled wetly, and allowed the smoke and shadows to close around it, vanishing from the room entirely. It amused it to see how long it would be before its prey realized it was trapped... that it had been lied to... that its life had come to an end...

This one was either more stupid or more trusting than most. Dagon imagined those to be virtually the same thing. It smiled to itself, circling the room invisibly, as its prey continued its barrage of inarticulate questions. It babbled there in the dim light for nearly an hour before realizing it was alone, and bravely staved off panic as it backed to the edge of the room and began to feel along the walls for some means of escape. When it found the slab, it seemed to recognize almost immediately that it had been placed there to imprison it in the chamber. Its breathing quickened, and it paced the perimeter of the room again, and then again, before panic finally overtook it. It screamed, at first in unintelligible terror, and then for help, for mercy, for the attention of anyone who might hear. It had no understanding of how deep in the earth it was. It battered the slab with its fists. It tore at the edges with its nails until blood ran down the palms of its hands. Finally, it sank to the floor, whimpering, cradling itself.

Only then did Dagon extinguish the fire, washing the room clean of light in a final wave of darkness.

Desire... Power... Consumption...

The sacrifice, too exhausted to protest, only whimpered when it felt the vampire's grip on its wrists. It shuddered as the claws tightened, shattering the bones in its forearms, its bruised hands hanging limp. For several seconds the only sound was the rhythmic tapping of fat drops of blood striking the stone floor.

"Please..." the prey whispered.

"No," Dagon hissed.

Dagon's formerly toothless maw filled suddenly with fangs, a horrific display utterly wasted in the complete darkness of the chamber. The exhausted prey could not even turn its head away. The vampire's grin gaped into a spiraling abyss of teeth in which a tongue lashed like a dragon in its lair, and Dagon fed, drooling blood, sweating it, bloody tears streaming from its black eyes. Fat worms gnawed their way out through Dagon's bulging, bloated flesh and dropped heavily to the ground with a sound like an animal passing waste. The blood Dagon wasted in its gluttony, they drank with mindless abandon, and turned on each other, chewing themselves to death as their master and prey sucked lewdly on the dead mortal's throat. The vampire continued sucking at the wound long after the blood was gone, long after its prey was dead and cold, until fat and splintered vertebrae exploded into its mouth and only a twisted ruin of a corpse remained.


For three nights and days, Dagon laid there in the chamber, filth and putrescence all but fossilizing him as the remnants of its excess dried and held him fast to the floor. The vampire willed every consideration out of its mind and simply wasted each day in dim contemplation of its indulgence. Only occasionally did it rouse itself from somnolence, and in those moments it would whisper a name, a prayer, a plea to a passing spirit.

The ritual was complete, and Dagon felt... whole.

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