The Black Forest
It is here, in the year 183 that Tabrettulf finds himself trotting past the trees and stones, the road a mere path through thicket and copse. Silhouetted against the moon, Nightmare Keep rose above the canopy, forbidding those who valued their souls from its dark walls. Its spires and towers stabbed the sky, blotting out the stars in their wake. The only pony who dared to tread this road; to find their way to this hellish place; to blatantly surrender their life in search of bloodshed is one who has already lost everything that truly mattered.
Tabrettulf was a tall, slender unicorn. His long mane and tail were nearly white, stark against his burnt red coat, falling low against his neck. A black jacket and broad-collared cape, lined with red satin, adorned his form. The sleeves of the jacket were long, ending in gold trimmed cuffs. Although he spent the majority of his time in search of monsters and demons, he was a stallion of good taste and steady enough employment to show it.
Rounding the last bend in the road, the drawbridge came into sight at the edge of visibility. He must have been spotted by the unholy keepers withing, for the deep clanking of the chains could be heard as the drawbridge began to rise. Sprinting to meet the closing entryway of the keep, Tabrettulf leaped the gap. Skidding to halt inside, Tabrettulf lifted his revolver from its holster, his red aura and the moon lighting his way. The weapon he carried was an aging model, one of the first black powder revolvers available. He'd never seen fit to replace it; the number of hatch-marks on its body attested to its capability. He'd already loaded the three chambers before entering the forest, as well as keeping a number of prepared paper cartridges on him.
The sound of heavy stone grating across itself reached his tufted ears, swiveling about to catch the sound all the better. Tabrettulf spun around in time to see two stone golems slamming the massive gates shut.
"We are the Sentinels of Stone," they proclaimed coldly. "We are the watchers of the Gates of Shadow. None shall trespass here without recompense."
Their empty faces showed no expression. They said no more; moved no more. A few moments passed and Tabrettulf pulled the muzzle of his weapon from the nearest golem's skull and eased pressure from the trigger, turning toward the heavy doors of the keep. Crossing the courtyard, into the shadows of the dark doorstep, he pressed his shoulder to the doors and passed inside. No turning back. The hunt was on.
Inside, only the red glow about his weapon greeted him. The echoing clack of his hooves on the marble floor bounced to the high ceiling, echoing hollowly in the darkness. As he took a few more steps into the void around him, the candelabra lining the entry way fluttered to life. The soft glow of candlelight burned back the blackness, pushing it to cower in the furthest corners of the room. The marble floor quickly gave way to a lush, red carpet, replacing the loud echo of his hooves with soft padding. Lightning struck outside, slashing the starry sky apart outside the windows as rain began to dash heavily against their clear surfaces.
At the end of the hall, Tabrettulf mounted a few steps into a corridor. Passing through, he found himself in a ballroom of utmost grandeur. Chandelier above, tapestries lining the dark walls, a massive staircase at the far end. There were doorways lining the walls, leading to other parts of the castle, but his prey was above. In the highest tower, amid the crumbling stairways and balconies, was where she would hide. These monsters were never the bravest creatures, choosing instead shadow and fear to hide behind. It made them predictable, but nonetheless deadly.
As he crossed the ballroom, he couldn't help but appreciate that this one at least chose a suitable place to await the end of its time in this world. Most of the monsters he'd sought out hid in damp caves and dark holes far from civilization, making them a nightmare just to reach, let alone remove from this existence. Lost in thought, he climbed the large staircase and followed the left side. It looped back over the ballroom, forming a long balcony over each side before ending in doorways to the chambers and twisted corridors beyond.
Pushing the door open, revolver aimed ahead, the stoic unicorn peered into the darkness. The short corridor beyond ended in a round chamber with a spiral staircase. As he climbed the steps, the howls of the undead met his ears. More than a few tortured souls had caught wind of him, seeking out his own vitality to fill the void in their own warped bodies. Tabrettulf pressed onward, albeit with more haste now. When he reached the highest landing, he took a glance over his shoulder only to see demons and monsters piling up the flight after him, always seeking out their next victim. Slamming the rotting door open, Tabrettulf galloped across the next room as the horde of terrors shambled onto the landing behind him, beginning to pour into the open space beyond.
The doorway at his end, however, was barred on the other side and wouldn't budge. There was a doorway to the side, in the shadows; a narrow stone stairway. A skeleton reached out, clawing at him before having the steel barrel rammed against its temple and being blasted away. The resounding boom left Tabrettulf's ears ringing as it echoed up and down the corridors, sure to attract more of the dead. He continued up the stairs, glad that it was so narrow. Alone, he'd easily glide up the space, but the crowd of nightmares behind him were sure to be slowed down by the tight quarters.
He cocked the hammer back as he came out of the stairway, looking about in the dark. He was on an open causeway connecting the base of the bell tower to a small minaret. He made for the door to the bell tower, easing through it quietly. With any luck, the monsters would lose track of him and give up. Moving up the bell tower's circling staircase, he reached its highest doorway. It opened onto a balcony and a decrepit stairway leading to the base of the highest tower, far above the courtyard and bulwark below. He ascended upon the steps and entered the tower. The front room was a lavish dining area, set with a feast and bright candles. He moved along the table, to the doorway at the end of the room.
Beyond was a dark bedchamber, unlit by anything save moonlight, which shone brightly through the far window. The pale illumination poured upon a thin canopy, filtered onto the covers below. Tabrettulf approached the bed slowly, making little sound has he crept across the carpeted floor. He slowly drew the curtains aside and gazed upon the face of his prey, the very heart of the evil that made its resting place in this castle. Her rosy mane lay across her sleeping form, flowing over her neck and chest; over the elegant dress she wore; her coat the softest of yellows.
As the identity of his prey sunk in, he dropped to his haunches beside the bed and lay his head against her. His tears fell, moonlight rolling into their depths before glinting brightly out in the darkness, and landed upon her chest soaking into the lace and finery. He leaned in, lips brushing against hers and raised his firearm from the floor where he'd lain it. He held her one more time before a final shot rang out in the night, echoing into the night sky.
Author's Note
Hey there everyone, thanks for taking the time to read this. Don't write much, but I'm killing time until classes start so the Writer's Training Ground seemed like a great idea until then.
Not really sure what I put together here, other than a miserable little pile of references. I wouldn't make too much of it, since it's mostly off the top of my head and I'm not that great a writer to begin with. Doesn't have a ton of relevance to any canon stuff, beyond that vampires are canon now.
If you're interested in where I'm coming from with the firearms stuff, this Dropbox folder is free for people to dig through: https://www.dropbox.com/sh/xzqsk59gey0r9fd/ddpb_jvfsI
Feel free to use the concept in your own work, credit appreciated. And send me a link!
