When one falls bad blood calls (Xen/Open)

[Anacaona]

Ana had been flying through the clouds moving them here and there all the morning and now she was tired with the midday sun rising high above what she had done. “That should bring the rains...” she said to herself softly with a chuckle. She needed to find shade and more than fast or she risked overheating. She plopped gracefully in an area that she hadn’t been in before and was immediately assaulted by a smell that she had not had the displeasure of smelling for centuries. Her eyes at once became blue and the dragon melted away in an angry roar that would be heard for miles. Dragon Blood! It’s dry form stained the ground under her bare feet. The bag she had carried in the coil of her tail was torn open and quickly she dressed in jeans and a couple vests that would provide some measure of cover and flexibility before she retrieved the other item that her snaky body carried. Her double spear with the mace like end that was more used for balance rather than a weapon tip.

Boots were pressed over her feet and set in place; she moved to where the smell stood more sound. She came upon him the felled Dragon his blue green scales shimmering in what light was left. He was dead she could tell by the smell of him. She did not know what transpired but her snaking tongue flickered out of her lips and took in the scents better than her nose could alone. Human... Vampire!

She snarled and roared again in her human skin causing her mouth to split and her fangs to elongate. Her scales shimmered in and out as she fought with the change for a moment. She sniffed around him again before her spear was latched over her shoulder by the braided leather that decorated it. Carefully she repositioned the body into the curled form of a resting dragon noting the injuries dealt to him. Attempting to see what was defensive and what may have been given to him underhanded. She did not know exactly what had happened but she knew he was missing his thumb claw and one of his teeth looked to be hacked out of his jaw. She roared in anger again as the rains began to pour. Her snake tongue licked the dragon before she took off running in the direction of the dragon’s scent. She left the rest of her things including a device that would lead Xenphon straight to the body meant to lead him to her.

[Xenophon]

Xenophon was helping to raise a barn. Granted, he was supporting one of the framework walls by himself, while his human friends rushed to nail all the supports into place, but it was good work, and it left him bare-chested in the sun – until his Queen brought the clouds in over Beechwood. The humans and Shifters here knew whom and what he was, and there was a certain freedom in that. Xen liked to remind them every now and again that he wasn’t afraid of honest work, and that, indeed, he was quite good at it. The Preserve sported nearly a herd of horses, and he was proud to say that he had personally trained all the stablehands in how to handle them. It made for quicker travel around the forest, and if they needed more, there were always the motorbikes. Xenophon joked with the people, people who saw him as their leader, people he worked very hard to protect and keep safe. A young man came to stand beside him, offering him a canteen of water, with a long plastic straw stuck in it.

“Jonah, right?” Xen asked, after taking a sip.

“Yes, Sir.” The young fellow nodded, smiling at being remembered.

“Oh, don’t do that. Xenophon or Xen, please. I get ‘yessir’ enough elsewhere, trust me.” The Dragon King smiled.

“Yes, S – Xen.”

“Nice save.”

They chuckled together, and Jonah put the cap back on the canteen. “Can I ask you something, Xenophon?”

“Of course. I’m sorta stuck here, aren’t I?” He turned to the foreman with a grin, “Hey, Roger! While we’re young, huh?”

Roger, a Werebear, grumbled, smiled and shook a fist at the Fire Dragon. “These nails don’t drive themselves you know!”

Xen turned back to Jonah, “What’s your question, Kid?”

“Are you really the Xenophon? I mean the same one in the history books?”

“How many do you know?” Xen answered, laughing a little at a very old private joke. “Yep. That’s me. I’m old, I know, older than many, but not as old as some. Why do you ask?”

“Do you still write stuff?”

Xen nodded, “Not as much as I’d like, but yes, as a matter of fact, I do.” He smiled, “Don’t tell me you’re a fan of my work? I mean, it’s ancient, Man.”

“My Dad wants me to read the classics.” Jonah explained.

“Oh, I like that, I’m a classic. Wait till I tell the Queen.” Xenophon eyed the young man thoughtfully. “When do you have your lessons?”

“The normal sessions for the school we made; Monday and Tuesday.”

“Alright, on Friday, come up to the House. I’ll give you two hours every Friday in my Library.”

Jonah’s eyes widened, “I couldn’t, Sir, I’d—“

Xen cut him off, “Hey, hey, who’s the King around here anyway? Friday. Library. Don’t be late, or I’ll come lookin’.” He smiled, “And you ‘sir’d’ me again.”

The young man laughed, and nodded. “Right, yes, yes, Friday. Thank you, Sir, I mean Xenophon, I’m gonna go tell my Dad.”

Roger watched the young man run off, and he punched the King’s shoulder playfully. “You old softie.”

“Shuddup. We done here?”

Roger nodded, “Yep. Now you’re just being lazy, leaning against a wall.”

Xenophon slowly relaxed his support, and smiled when the whole thing stayed standing. “Remember the first one we built?”

“Aye, I do. Went down like a house of cards when you moved.”

The Dragon King nodded sagely, “It was a hell of bonfire party though.”

“A good way to hide your loss of temper.”

Xenophon turned to Roger with a grin. “Good job, Roger. Sleep well, I’ll most likely eat you in the morning.”

Roger laughed, “You’ve been telling me that since I was a kid. You never did show me that movie.” He shook Xenophon’s hand.

“I didn’t?” Xenophon shook his head, “That’s what the kid should be doing, my book isn’t half as fun as The Princess Br –“ He turned away suddenly, going from pleasantly happy to scowling in the blink of an eye. His eyes narrowed and he looked skyward. “Brandt!” He called out for his trusted Castellan, “I need a flight pack now.”

Brandt replied by dashing to comply. Roger touched the Dragon King’s shoulder. “What’s wrong? What’s happened?”

“It’s Ana.”

Roger had a soft spot for the Queen and her kind ways. “I’ll get some bikes and a few men together, maybe a jeep.”

Xenophon shook his head, “No, that won’t be necessary. Finish things here. I’ll call the usual way if I need back up.” He paused and turned to Roger, “But you ready those men.”

Brandt jogged up with a pack that held everything Xenophon would need on a sudden flight, and anticipating the need, the Half-Vampire had packed the transponder and tracer that would both find Ana and allow her to find him. The Dragon King didn’t need those things to find his Queen and his Mate, he knew where she was, but redundancy with their safety was never a bad thing. He ran out of the new barn, and stripped off the rest of his clothes, showing the people something they did not often get to see. The man they knew best exploded into the very large form of an Ancient Fire Dragon. His steps as he ran to take flight vibrated the earth under the feet of those nearby, and the wind of his wings snapped tree limbs, and knocked men over. The new standing wall of the barn quivered.

“Aw, Hell!” Roger cursed and started his own transformation to his hybrid Bear-form to hold the wall up. “A little help!”

---

Xenophon landed perhaps a hundred yards from where he knew Ana’s signal was coming from, but he knew that his Queen would not be there waiting for him. Something had upset her, and even now, her anger burned like a flame in his mind. There was sadness too, and trepidation, but that was a mere fractional feeling by comparison. Xen pulled clothes and gear from his flight pack. Nude, he put on his pants first, and then his combat boots. If they made pants that could get on while wearing his boots, they’d go first, but as it was he was forced to the logical order. He pulled on a sweater that had Kevlar patches in strategic areas, and his long leather duster. Xenophon smiled to see that Brandt had packed his spearhead and staff as well, along with a high-powered revolver, that held only five shots, due to the caliber, with silver rounds already loaded. “He deserves a raise.”

The spearhead was sheathed like a knife at his left hip, and the staff he carried in his hands. He attached the tracer and transponder to his belt, and pulled on his favorite pair of goggles, along with an old hat that he found at the bottom of the bag. The bag folded up to nearly nothing, and that he tucked into a duster pocket. Brandt thought of everything, which was why he had the job that he had. Xenophon got his bearings with the HUD in the goggles, and then settled those around his neck, before breaking into a jog that would carry him closer to Ana’s signal.

The smell of Dragon’s Blood was thick on the air, and for a moment, despite knowing better, his heart clenched, and a gust of wind blew around him as he was momentarily seized by the thought of an injured or dead Queen to be found at the end of his run. He growled, and black smoke trailed from between his lips as he ran on, arriving close to the signal in only a short time at his top speed. Xenophon slowed and made a careful approach, until he saw that no one was around; he used his goggles to be sure, trusting the various wavelengths that it could discern to reveal anyone or anything hidden. He frowned as he approached and found Ana’s flight pack. She’d left it there, and she was clearly dressed. Xenophon’s eyes lifted to the Dragon, and he closed his eyes slowly, laying his hand on the severed head of the young male. “Ah, Kid, I told you not to put your hoarde in the City. Hiawatha, you young fool.” Xenophon sniffed, and blinked tears from his eyes. There weren’t enough Dragons in the world for him not to feel the loss of one of his own. He knew what upset Ana now, and he knew what made her angry, because steam was already rising from his body, and his eyes burned with Draconic intensity.

“I’m sorry, Hiawatha. I failed to keep you safe. I failed to keep track of you.” He inspected the corpse much as his wife had, with his tears long since burned away into steam. With dry eyes, Xenophon saw clearly. It took great strength to drive the killing blow, and since there was no sign of another Dragon, that only left him with one conclusion. He took his time sniffing around, calling up his most acute senses, and then moved away to strip off his clothes once again. “I’m sorry, Kid. I can’t leave you for anyone to find. They’ve already made off with too much of you. Don’t worry, we’ll collect it, and send it to you soon as we can.” Xenophon transformed, and softly sang the young Dragon’s favorite song. When the Dragon King reached the end of What I’ve Done by Linkin Park, he drew in a deep breath, and exhaled upon Hiawatha’s body. “Go to heaven with the smoke, my Friend.”

Xenophon took control of the fire, containing it, but also increasing its intensity until it burned blue. He incinerated the corpse, leaving nothing but ash, nothing from which a scientist could garner a DNA sample. He checked his pack, and pulled out a few sample tubes, filling them with ashes. “I’ll scatter this back in Beechwood, Kid. You take care now.” He used his control over the air to scatter the ashes into the sky and over a wide distance, and packed the rest into his flight pack, hiding his and Ana’s together in the broken structure. Xenophon then got dressed again, steam still rising from his form as he let his rage ride through him. His Queen was already out there, looking for the corpse-defilers, looking for justice.

Maybe it was time he went and looked for trouble.

[Anacaona]

She ran over the land pausing once or twice as the water kicked the scents a new and unto the air as they rose in steam from the heated ground. Ana’s tongue lashed out angrily but all the scents were registered and plucked from it. She was on the move again and into a crumbling structure. She found them resting. Their guards had been dispatched of easily by a clear jab of a hand to a particular part of the body. She found the claw nestled among three more though they were older and the tooth in the leaders hand. The great dragon took up her spear and plunged it into the chest of the Vampire then swept the flint blades down to his stomach before running them back up his chest to cleave his jaw in two. She spun to face one that heard the gut wrenching sounds and rose with a quick pull and a spin at the same time the spear was swept around and into the throat of the other.

Anacaona’s stance was wide and she took two more down using the morningstar back of the spear to tenderize one’s brain and the blades to take the other in the stomach twisting the spear with strength and force she swept a foot back to kick another down. Spinning in a full three sixty she swept the blade about and then to the throat of that vampire as well two heads were now on the ground their bodies falling though the skulls rolled away. As the leader was looking to stand she leapt up and then down pushing the air on top of him keeping him on the ground until she landed. “You pathetic piece of garbage, you defile a corpse, Now I defile yours.” As his jaw was mending she grabbed his head by his teeth and twisted him over so that she could stand on his back. Her foot placed squarely upon the middle of his shoulder blades.

“I guess you couldn’t keep what you stole.” There was a hard yank and she heard the satisfactory pop of the vertebra prior to the tear of flesh. Her eyes turned to the last, “Shall I leave you to give your leader the message?” she hissed “Or shall I leave a message right here?” Instead she began to change and into her hybrid form she moved. “I suggest you run.”

[Xenophon]

His Queen was in a temper. He could feel her anger in that part of his Soul that belonged to her and it was a bright fire in his mind that could lead him to her, if he chose to pursue his Queen. Xenophon had other concerns; chief among them was how he was going to explain to the young Dragon’s Mother how her Son had been slain in some turf battle he likely never intended to start. Once engaged, it was so very hard for some Dragons to know when to run. Socrates had always embedded that idea; fight to win, but always be aware of your limitation, and never be too proud to run. Pride had been the downfall of many, and it had been pride that had found Xenophon and the Ten-Thousand deep in enemy territory with no choice but to fight their way home. He hadn’t liked it, but running had never been a problem. He smiled ironically, and shook his head; though he did not know it, he had fled once before his Queen’s wrath. Xenophon frowned; he was sure his Mother had taught him that lesson, but Hiawatha was the fire of his people in Dragon form, a perfect mingling of Earth and Water – it might have been symbolic to the King if it weren’t for the fact that the symbol was dead and reduced to nothing. Ana would recover what was stolen, and from it, perhaps have some token for Sacajawea, failing that, all Xenophon could promise her was the possibility of blood in kind.

The Ancient Attican Mercenary did not want war for the first time in his life. He had his own new life to shepherd into this World, and he didn’t want to bring it into an active War, but that seemed unavoidable. Xenophon was too astute not to understand the true source of his Mate and Queen’s ire; Hiawatha might as well have been a newborn wyrmling, for how sharply it brought home the dangers that they would face as parents. The dangers, and the heartbreak. How much could his Queen stand? How much could he? He had been prepared to burn the city to the ground if he found his Queen dead; the City, the state, every Vampire infested hole he could have found. Xenophon’s calm was a façade; inside a fire burned, and it wanted out.

Xenophon wandered into The Blue Scarab, an underground nite-club run by a low Master Vampire that fancied himself the heir to Egyptian tradition. He was barely five centuries old, but he was from Cairo. What he really was, was a criminal, a smuggler, drug peddler and whoremonger of the lowest sort. Xenophon was too pragmatic to believe that he could police vice in the current day and age; men and women always wanted whores of all stripes; this had been true since long before they figured out the porn on Pompeii’s walls. He drew the line at anything that abused children or put them in harm’s way, and he had come down on old Farouk, for that very crime; not once, but twice – leaving him a hand low had made the proper impression the second time Xenophon also had his People check in on a regular rotation, and one collected ‘taxes’; the state needs income too, you know.

No one recognized him at first. He was handsome, but terribly unassuming in his human form, and no one had brought any trumpets with which to announce him. Farouk must have seen him on the CCTV, because within five minutes, the one-handed Vampire was bustling out of the back offices, across the dance floor, to stand in front of Xenophon. The swarthy fellow, and how he remained such while being Undead was a mystery to the Dragon king, bowed low before him. “Xenophon! It is so very good to see you, how is that lovely Queen of yours?” Farouk smiled in an ingratiating manner, showing his fangs just the slightest bit, and licking his dark lips.

Xenophon eyed the Egyptian Vampire silently for a long moment, and just when Farouk got uncomfortable enough to speak again, albeit with nervous eyes – The Dragon King punched him squarely in the face, sending him flying back the way he had come. People scattered, and bouncers began to move towards him. The staff was made up of Vampires, the club ran strictly after hours and entirely peopled by their Master’s little criminal Clan. He smiled slightly as the Vampires threatened him; Good, they didn’t realize who he was. They would want to protect Farouk, he figured he would give them good reason. Xen ran and leapt forward, cracking the Master Vampire across the skull with a wide sweep of his staff, causing the Vampire to growl in anger, and his eyes to flash red as he called on his own Powers.

With impressive control, Farouk tumbled away, and called out, “Wait! Wait! He’ll bring this place down around our ears!” He turned to the Dragon King, clearly angered, but also clearly wary. “What have I done, Xenophon? What has you ready to break all our agreements? You’re a man of your word.”

Xenophon’s eyes narrowed and he drew the blade at his hip, slowly affixing the spearhead to the haft that had doubled as a staff. “There can be no business arrangements in War, Farouk. Those were peacetime agreements. I’m afraid peace, such as it was, has come to an ened.” He readied his spear, and the other Vampires flexed their fists, and drew a variety of weapons.

“Christ! Wait!” Farouk ordered his people harshly, pressing his power into them with a flash of his red eyes. He turned to Xenophon, “I know we’ve never been friends, Dragon King, but I’ve done my best to Unlive by your rules. No muggings for feeding, nor pretty young things, no scoping the talent in Beechwood. I’ve even sent some refugees your way. No one here is being forced, ask them!”

Xenophon shook his head, “It’s not about my laws, Farouk. It’s not about channeling the people’s need for vice, or your little Coterie’s need for blood.” He took a breath, and upon noticing a hat rack, he removed his hat and tossed it – with a little help, it landed perfectly on the rack’s hook. “A vampire killed a Dragon wyrmling. Little more than a Child, making everything old, new again.”

“But that wasn’t any of mine, I swear it!” Farouk glared around the room, hoping that was true, and seeing the looks he was returned, he soon knew it was. “All my Clan are right here. We didn’t do that! I’ll help you find who did! Dammit, Xenophon, be reasonable – just because we’re all Undead doesn’t mean we’re all backstabbers! C’mon, Man, don’t do this.” He raised a false-hand, a prosthetic that whirred and clicked when he moved the figures. “You’ve already had your pound of flesh!”

“Who would have hunted a Dragon inside the City Limits?” Xenophon asked bluntly, “Who had the skill to handle one in close quarters?”

The Egyptian’s mouth worked for a moment, his lips moving by instinct, but then he shook his head. “No one I can think of. No one here, I can promise you that.”

Xenophon turned his head to one side and raise an eyebrow, “Your promise is worth as much as the mud stuck to my very comfortable combat boots. I can smell your latest meal on you. I don’t know a lot of adults that drink--” He sniffed the air, “—Bubblegum flavored anything. Though, I suppose it’s possible. If I go into your office now, what will I find?’

“You’re determined to make this difficult.” Farouk’s ingratiating tone disappeared. “You’d find nothing, of course. Let us help you, Xenophon. We can help each other. I want to stay in business, and you want information.”

The Dragon King took a very deep breath, “Oh, you’ll help me.” When he exhaled, the club’s lights were made dim by the brightness of his Dragon’s Breath. One of the Clan took the brunt of the flames for his Master, and fell to the dance floor with a wet and steamy hiss. Patrons scattered like sand tossed in a high wind. “Don’t run, Farouk. It’ll only make things worse.”