#raisedwarrior

Fingering the wooden stake in her purse, Daphne eyed the dusty, flashy bar. Nearly halfway between the Mexico-U.S. Border and where her family was currently staying in a five star hotel in Monterrey, this place looked downright awful. Even from this distance it reeked of nothing but booze and gasoline. Worse, there was a tint of iron hanging in the air, so heavy was it that she actually had to hold up her sleeve to breathe occasionally. Just from the smell and the shaded windows alone, Daphne could tell that her tip was genuine. She knew a nest when she saw one and this one was as obvious as the bright, neon-colored signs flashing out front.

Walking away from where her rented motorcycle was stopped, Daphne started to gain the attention of nearby denizens sitting out under shaded canopies. More than one she noticed looked almost drugged, dazed into a semblance of passivity. The thought that these creatures kept humans alive to maintain the look of the disgusting bar it was sickened her, but her face never betrayed that revulsion. Instead, it was stone cold, serious as could be. She knew what she would be walking into and she couldn't give those inside a chance to think she was some prim and proper rich girl to be taken advantage of. So with her helmet still covering her face, Daphne raised a hand and pushed the doors swinging wide open. There was an audible hiss to her trained ears, and Daphne noticed not one single person was touching the rays of light that were streaming in from outside. All gazes locked onto her as she closed the door shut behind her and removed her helmet, shaking out the locks of her long, shining, red hair.

An overly confident smirk slowly grew along the curve of her lips as she began moving up to the counter. There were far less walking dust mops than she would have guessed. Of course, there were a number of people sitting lazily at tables who didn't even turn to watch her. Those would potentially be her biggest problem.

Stopping at the bar counter, Daphne stared directly into the bartender's cold eyes for a moment to assert her own superiority. ❝I hear this is the place for a warm drought of blood.❞ The directness of her question seemed to take the tattooed man off guard. Then with a laugh, he commended her on coming in during broad daylight. The tense atmosphere surrounding the room dissipated and the man walked back to a pump. There, Daphne watched as crimson blood streamed into a pitcher and his face contorted into something evil. ❝That'll be 500 pesos, pretty lady.❞ It nearly took all the control she had for Daphne not to gag as the stench reached her nose. So gross, ugh.

❝Thanks, but I prefer blood to still be coursing through the veins.❞ Gripping the stake in her hand, Daphne reigned herself in as the bartender replied,  ❝Well, that'll cost you quite a bit more.❞ Nearly trembling as anger bubbled through her, Daphne gripped the man's forearm as he reached for the pitcher, her voice emerging silky and primed, ❝ --- Actually, it tends to only cost a good, beating heart.❞ As the man's dark eyes flashed wide open, her hand flashed from the black purse she was clutching to his heart. A scream of defiance wailed through the air before he burst into a spray of specks of dust. All around the room the cacophony of chairs scraped noisily against the blood stained floor. Demonically contorted faces glared murderously at her in hatred.

❝Sorry you disgusting freaks, but I think happy hour is over.❞ Charging to the nearest vampire, Daphne speedily launched into him before he could even raise his fists in retaliation to her advance. Dust enveloped her lithe form as she spun on her heel to strike down another. Mayhem quickly erupted around the bar as vampiric men and women alike ran and jumped at her, fangs bared. Smiling as the adrenaline rush took a hold and pumped powerfully through her veins, Daphne moved with a graceful precision, her ears and reflexes far beyond that of a normal human's. With one hand holding the stake, she decimated the patrons, and with the other hand holding her bike helmet, she knocked back attackers. Every motion was beautifully fluid and perfectly executed, a dance all on its own, until there was nothing but a curtain of dust drifting like particles and covering the floor spread all around her.

Breathing hard, Daphne looked around for any other enemies. Every savage brute and vixen lay dead for the second time around her. Some of the dazed humans gave her some heed, but as drugged as they were, none could truly move. Patting herself down, Daphne saw the scratch mark made on her new biker suit. ❝Awww, really? This was a perfect fit. It took hours to find the right one. A mix to match my looks and my skill. Stupid vampires...❞

❝More like stupid human!❞ An accented, feminine voice screeched from above --- giving Daphne just enough time to dive out of the way. Standing where she had been were bent floorboards and a beautiful, scantily clad woman pulling her clawed hands from the ground. She had alpha written all over her and Daphne knew this one wouldn't fall as easily as the rest. She had no idea how true that thought was.

Daphne perked up, hand propping on her cocked hip, ❝You know, you really shouldn't announce your attack right before you go in for the kill.❞ Of course, she had done that right before killing the bartender, but Daphne rarely ever took her own advice when it came to killing uglies.

Screaming out in anger, the vampire wasted no time in attacking, fighting to rip at her throat or any other part of her body. Bloodlust consumed the ancient creature and Daphne fought harder than she had in a long while. And as more moves were exchanged, steps taken, seconds passed, she realized with some growing sense of alarm pinpricking at the base of her head, maybe ever. The confidence she had faltered as two nails cut through the leather fabric of her suit and drew welts of blood. However, when the woman licked the liquid from her long nails, Daphne huffed and went on the attack, striking and slamming until her helmet was covered in dents and the visor cracked and broken. With one precise strike, Daphne went for the heart, but instead of making her mark an outstretched hand took the wooden blade all the way through and blocked her attempt to reach her chest. Flinging the hand to the side, the stake was wrenched disturbingly easily from her own and Daphne stumbled back to gain ground.

❝Well now, I hope that wasn't your only toy, Slayer. ❞ The use of her title made Daphne's blue eyes widen. ❝Oh, you thought you would be my first? Don't look so innocent. You at least did your research on this place, right?❞ Gulping having been startled by the question, Daphne faltered and held her tongue, not willing to betray she had only grazed over documents. Their slow walk stopped as the vampire came to a halt and tilted her head. Then with a laugh, she cried out. ❝You didn't! You actually didn't! You fools never cease to amaze me. Five attempts. That's how many I've survived. That's how many times I've recreated this nest. See, occasionally the herd needs thinning and you slayers are all too willing to do the work for me. Poor, pitiful fool, did your Watcher teach you nothing?❞

All through the vocal jabs and hearty enjoyment, Daphne had begun to hate herself. Dean had told her no, to wait, to plan together if they were going to do the hit. But she had been hasty, ready to get back to the resort and take a nice long bath to rinse off the vampire dust. She was supposed to be on vacation! Instead, she was standing in a dark, room, alone, wholly knowledgeable about how much she had messed up. Death was staring her right in the face and her backup stake sat across the room where she had dropped her purse. A momentary, knowing glimpse told her opponent everything she needed to know.

❝And you don't even have a second stake on you. You are probably the worst Slayer that has wandered into this bar. Well, besides the second. Oh, she was ripe for the picking and so much more confident than you. I drained her blood to the last drop, even as she gasped and pleaded for mercy.❞ Daphne resumed backing up, placing more distance between them. Just a few more feet stood a broken chair where she had sent a vampire sailing earlier. All she had to do was go for it. ❝Well, that's enough talking. I'm hungry.❞ Leaping at the last words, Daphne went to drop back and grab an impromptu spike to finish the job. Instead, she was caught by two pairs of strong hands, a gasp being made out of pure shock. She had thought she had killed every other vampire in this bar!

Strong arms pinned to her sides held by two vampires that had silently sneaked up behind her, Daphne shuddered from a cold wave of helplessness. They were like bars of a prison --- regardless of how hard she tugged, and Daphne watched in terror as the nest leader dropped in front of her and deliberately closed in. The horror of the scene slowed it to all to a crawl. She couldn't pull away and the fanged smile that cruelly gleamed from all three of the surrounding females sent raw, pure fear racing through Daphne. Oh, oh no. This was it. This was the end. She was about to become another missing girl, leaving little clues behind and no answers for her loved ones. She saw her own mother weeping, her father distraught. There would be no freeing herself, no glorious victory. Daphne was looking into the eyes of a killer and all she wanted was to be back in the hotel with her parents, relaxing, having innocent fun. She didn't want to be the Slayer anymore, and soon, she wouldn't be. Her throat painfully constricted, blocking out any rising sound.

The company of two hobbits and two elves was a little oddly matched, but Arwen insisted. Some time had passed since the War of the Ring. Even though the Fourth Age had been peaceful, however, darkness seemed to be stirring in Mordor. The Free Peoples of Middle Earth may have to mobilize again. Conveniently, when word was sent, both Elves had been in Celondim, and as a result, it took them little time to get the Shire to meet with the two Hobbits. The chosen meeting place was the Golden Perch Inn in Stock. Its closeness to the border of the Shire meant they wouldn't have so great a distance to go towards Bree and the Lonelands lands near Ost Guruth when they had made preparations to depart. The hobbits were already there when the elves arrived. "Hail friends," Samandriel greeted them. 

The end sucks. Ignore it. I rushed so scarrd-wings could see it and maybe cheer up a lil bit.

Pistol stared blankly at the person she had somehow managed to bump into. "I'm really sorry..." Like her father taught her, the girl apologized as quickly and nicely as she could. Not entirely sure how to handle with situation. As a puppy, if she bumped into someone, they wouldn't care one bit. But she was a young lady now and had to act appropriately. At least... that's what her father told her. He was a good dad, Sam was. And Dean was a great uncle. Being adopted by them had it's perks. But... it also had it's disadvantages. Like, she had to be part of the family business. Sam expected her to want to be taught new tricks and most every enemy saw her as an easy target. Back to reality now Pistol. She thought to herself. "Sorry... again. I blacked out there."