#justletmetakeasips

Xephos’ memories of the last few hours were little more than a haze. Whatever was in those foul-tasting drinks the Minecraftian (who he now knew went by the truly puzzling name of “Strippin”) knocked back with ease had a much more adverse effect on his alien system. Some sort of poison, Xephos suspected. He had been foolish to let his guard down. That mistake would not be made again. He had important work to do on this planet. 

Dragging his eyes open should not have been as difficult as it was, nor should the bright moon shining above hurt his head quite so much. He grimaced, still tasting that god-awful “beer” on his tongue, and heaved himself to his feet. 

Only to slip ungracefully in damp mud and land flat on his skinny behind in a damp ditch. Good grief, if the mothership could see him now they’d be wildly regretful of their choice of scout. Xephos wondered just how he became so incompetent. 

justletmetakeasips 

Maybe it had just been a nightmare. Maybe he’s not actually a vampire and he had just imagined it? Turps only had his hopes crushed when he looked in a mirror and saw no one there. He looked out of the window, seeing that it was now night time. He left the house and ran off towards Sips’ place, stopping along the way to raid a camp and get some food.

It was a few more hours before Turps showed up at Sips’ doorstep. His clothes were bloody again but he’d have to ignore that for now. He knocked on the door, waiting for an answer.

What would happen if he didn’t find a cure?