• Man of War – Excerpt No. 362

    “So, this is the soldier?” Drusilla asked, in a voice that was purposefully formal. “The one who’ll help us wage war against The Tower?”

    He had no idea what The Tower was, let alone why they were at war with it. In truth, only being told what he needed to know certainly suited his role as a soldier though… That explains why they were interested in me after they learned of my victory against Barón…

    “That’s not what I have in mind for you,” Susanna said from the inside of his head.

    “At least he’s pretty…” Susanna said to throw off her opponent.

    A humanoid oversized deathcap mushroom being kept in the dark and surrounded by excrement, dressed in formal clothing. Located in a dark cave lit by torches, with a stone altar, and a large well filled with blood. Scene and clothing appropriate for the 16th Century France.

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  • Man of War – Excerpt No. 361

    For Marc, it was like staring at a portrait done by a master painter. The level of skill and detail was beyond comparison. Yet, there was something unnatural, even if he could not articulate what it was… like neither breathing…

    There was tension in the room, so thick that he would need his sabre to hack through it. At her request, he came unarmed, and in hindsight it was an odd way for a soldier to meet his maker.

    “So, this is the soldier?” Drusilla asked, in a voice that was purposefully formal. “The one who’ll help us wage war against The Tower?”

    Picture of a man looking upon two ladies dressed in formal gown. Located in a dark cave lit by torches, with a stone altar, and a large well filled with blood. The a stunning blond and sultry brunette are smile at one another, the scene eerily reminiscent of a painting, perfect but unnatural. Scene and clothing appropriate for the 16th Century France.

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  • Man of War – Excerpt No. 360

    These key points for observation did not apply to Susanna or Drusilla. Marc guessed that both of them were alive today because they mastered hiding their thoughts and emotions behind an impenetrable mask. However, it was chilling to observe these two women, who would gladly flail the skin off the other’s bones, and act as though this was a Sunday social engagement.

    They stood a dozen paces from each other, as though frozen in time, while they stared the other down. Susanna wore a smile, and outwardly it appeared to be warm and bubbly. However, Marc had seen her truly smile and it looked nothing like the one she wore.

    A dramatic, high-contrast cinematic photograph of a ravishing Spanish courtesan, with dark, luscious brown hair cascading down her back, standing dominantly over a fragile, porcelain-skinned blonde, bound by worn leather straps to a cold, damp stone wall, her struggles and fear palpable. The dungeon, dimly lit by flickering torches, is characterized by rough-hewn stone walls, weathered wooden beams, and a sense of foreboding. The courtesan's attire is a lavish, velvet-trimmed Renaissance-inspired gown in rich, jewel-toned reds and emerald greens, with intricate lace and ornate gold accents, while the blonde's flowing golden locks spill around her, her delicate features and alabaster skin a stark contrast to the dark, ominous surroundings. The photography style is moody and evocative, with heavy use of chiaroscuro and a sense of cinematic grandeur, evoking the opulence and mystery of 16th Century France.

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  • Man of War – Excerpt No. 359

    Marc had to admit that reading people was never one of his strengths. Anyone could figure out that someone was mad when they flew off the handle. However, it proved challenging when they teetered on the edge of insanity.

    Still, there were clues, such as erratic movements, a predatory stare, clenched jaw and fists. One simply had to observe their breathing, perspiration, and heart rate.

    The last three were key, because these were predominantly autonomous responses. Few were able to prevent the veins on their forehead from bulging. Hunters were amongst the few who could consciously control their autonomous functions, and that was why they were dangerous.

    A dark, moody, and atmospheric photographic portrait of a raven-haired, olive-skinned Spanish courtesan, her eyes sunken, and her gaze distant, conveying a sense of madness, dressed in a lavish, heavy, velvety red dress with a tight corset, layers of lace, and intricate golden embroidery, set against a dimly lit, ornate, and richly textured stone wall, with flickering candlelight casting eerie shadows, transporting the viewer to 16th Century France, with lush, heavy drapery and tattered fabrics subtly hinting at the courtesan's fragile grip on reality, her full lips curled into a faint, enigmatic smile, and a single, delicate, pearl earring dangling from her left earlobe, as if suspended in a moment of quiet desperation.

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  • Man of War – Excerpt No. 358

    “Vampires may have a society, but it’s anything but civil.”

    It was said that vampires were above all of that. Instead of being overt, they plotted and schemed, which was something a man of war, such as himself, abhorred.

    “I preferred to see an enemy coming,” Marc said as the image of that encounter between Susanna and Drusilla crystalised in his mind.

    “Drusilla’s plans could play out over millennia,” Marc said. “God help those who got in the way…”

    Nigh shot of a beautiful blonde female vampire writing using a quill and ink, plotting out something that will take place over thousands of years. On the table she is writing there are figurines representing enemies, some have been toppled, others are surrounded by figurines remarking allies. While the settings are lavish and palatial, the mood is dark and foreboding .Scene and clothing appropriate for the 16th Century France.

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  • Man of War – Excerpt No. 357

    The life of a soldier was straightforward. The enemy was clearly identifiable, and gunfire was a definite sign of aggression. Along the same lines, allies were easily recognised by their uniforms.

    “Vampires may have a society, but it’s anything but civil.”

    Immortals tended to get bored and had excess time to plan out elaborate plans for revenge. As a human, if Marc had a problem with someone, they would exchange words. If all else failed, there were duels that resolved any disagreement… permanently…

    A dramatic, low-key lit, cinematic photograph of a mortally wounded gentleman, clad in ornate, lace-trimmed, black and gold attire, typical of 16th Century French nobility, lying on the grassy, dew-kissed grounds of a misty, early morning duel site, his eyes wide with shock, his face pale and clammy, a crimson stain spreading rapidly across his white shirt, his rapier lying nearby, its hilt glinting faintly in the soft, morning light. In the background, twenty paces away, his opponent, a tall, dark-haired, stern-faced figure, stands frozen, his right hand still grasping the smoking pistol, its barrel wispy with fog, his left hand clenched into a fist, his attire a somber, dark-colored contrast to the fallen gentleman's, amidst a backdrop of majestic, centuries-old trees, their branches shrouded in mist, the atmosphere heavy with tension and foreboding.

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  • Man of War – Excerpt No. 356

    There was a woman near the altar dressed entirely in white. Marc noticed there was a harsh beauty to her, and a symmetry that bordered on perfection. He imagined her likeness being immortalised in stone as a goddess or an angel…

    “Susanna, pleasure as always,” the woman said.

    While the words were polite, they were very much said like the Comtesse would. It was a compliment that made you feel as if you were a failure and would be one forevermore.

    “Drusilla,” Susanna said. “The pleasure is all mine.”

    A dramatic, high-contrast, cinematic photograph of a stern, aged Countess, with a stern expression, silver hair tied back in a tight bun, and wrinkled, pale skin, scolding a young, timid child with big brown eyes, rosy cheeks, and curly, golden locks, standing in a grand, ornate, dimly lit stone castle, with tapestries and suits of armor in the background, both figures dressed in opulent, intricately detailed, 16th-century French attire, the Countess in a lavish, velvet, dark red gown with excessive lace and jewels, and the child in a simple, yet elegant, cream-colored outfit with a white collar, the atmosphere tense and formal, with warm, golden lighting casting long shadows across the stone floor, with a slight sense of movement and blur, as if the scene was captured in a fleeting moment of intense drama.

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  • Man of War – Excerpt No. 355

    They turned around the corner and were met with fifty-two steps. With every step, the ambient light increased. By the time they reached the top, Marc had a view of a cavernous chamber. At its heart, there was an altar and a large pool of red liquid behind it.

    There was a woman near the altar dressed entirely in white. Marc noticed there was a harsh beauty to her, and a symmetry that bordered on perfection. He imagined her likeness being immortalised in stone as a goddess or an angel…

    The lord and lady turned around the corner and were met with fifty-two steps. With every step, the ambient light increased. By the time they reached the top, Marc had a view of a cavernous chamber. At its heart, there was an altar and a large pool of red liquid behind it. There was a woman near the altar dressed entirely in white. Marc noticed there was a harsh beauty to her, and a symmetry that bordered on perfection. He imagined her likeness being immortalised in stone as a goddess or an angel… Scene and clothing appropriate for the 16th Century.

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  • Man of War – Excerpt No. 354

    Marc later learned that they buried him deep underground and later built the ziggurat overtop to worship him as a god. For centuries, that city served as the centre of a massive empire… all controlled from his crypt…

    “What happened?” Marc asked.

    “The surface water dried up,” Susanna said. “The lands became inhospitable, and his followers scattered like sand in a desert storm.”

    My empire will rise again!He knew nothing of this city, or the ziggurat she mentioned. However, the effect that this god had on them left him humbled… I know nothing of this world…

    A picture focused on a ziggurat surrounded by a thriving bronze age city at night. Water, trees, people going about their daily lives. People appear to be praying atop the ziggurat, with a blood red moon above them.

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  • Man of War – Excerpt No. 353

    Two-hundred paces ahead, there came a glow from an opening. He assumed they were headed there, as the space was elevated to prevent flooding.

    “He’s one of our kind,” Susanna said. “So old that no one has ever seen him outside of his crypt.”

    “Crypt?”

    A crypt was for the dead, and whoever this was, they clearly were not content with eternal rest. Marc was surprised that the voice influenced her; the Contessa was not some fledgling vampire.

    “He reaches out with his mind over vast distances to influence his pawns on the world stage,” Susanna said.

    Inside of a large and lavish crypt, gold plated walls with odd writing covering them, pottery, ornate weapons, and other artifacts. At the center there is an ornate sarcophagus, cold, and colorful, the lid is partially open allowing an eerie green light from within to light the space. Other than the green glow there is no other source of light.

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