Greg x Vlad

Chapter 2

He stood in the hallway, patching his wounds. His giant mansion all to himself, and good gods he felt lonely. But his needs, no urges couldnt be satiated by a fellow vampire. None simply came close to reaching his standerds. And he for sure didnt want to involve himself with a spellcaster nor human. So he'd rather be alone. Though, that werewolf had been on his mind. The wounds lasted for weeks and so did the thought of them. It was an insationable need to see them again. He hadnt even gotten a name out of them. That pissed him right off. He couldnt believe that he wasnt respected enough to get an introduction, but at the same time, he loved it. It was like a new beginning for him. Finally, a fresh start. He wasnt feared, nor hated, just seen as an equal opponent. A fellow fighter. Not to mention they looked delicious. Their thick black and grey coat, their bright red eyes, it all screamed that their plasma was savory. To be cherished and drunk like wine. To be savored and to be tasted by only to highest level of vampires. He just had to get a bite. Though he would probably taste the fur as well, its a small sacrafice he wouldnt mind paying. So, he started to research werewolves. Their weak points, the pack system, everything. He became obsessive over them. Wanting to know more, more, more about them. Needing to know their struggles, their issues, their reason to be alive. He started to visit Moonwood Mill more and more. Determined to find the one who caused him this obbsession. He tried talking to the locals, more specifically the Moonwood Collective but they despised him. To the point where they were wanting to rip him to shreads. Vlad understands why, vampires and werewolves had a deep history. They hated eachother for centuries. Theyve had many wars for varying of reasons but it all boiled down to politics. Who would be incharge. Who had control, and who would be forced to live in the shadows. These wars had seeded the beginnings of stories of which side was wrong and who should have been the victor. Those stories, whilest maybe false, continued the anger throughout generations of these occults. But even with this intense hatred for then, he couldnt help but enjoy learning about their culture and way of life. Though he was not going to get any information out of the packs. So he went exploring on his own. Attempting to find where he had wandered last time when he stumbled upon some signs. He quickly ran to them to try and understand where he was. Though, all they said was "BEWARE OF GREG" With no clue who this 'Greg' could be, he brushed it off as some sort of prank. Then, he heard it. The growls and howls of those who sre in pain. He bolts to where its coming from and see them. The werewolf he was after bleeding out after a fight. He quickly ran over to the werewolf.
"OI! Oh, its you. What do you want vampire scum? Cant you see im busy? Or did you want another beat down." He didnt pay attention to a single word said. His thirst took over. Latching onto a open cut on the werewolf's shoulder.
"AACK- WHAT THE FUCK! GET OFF!"
The werewolf throws him to the ground before pummling him into the ground. He doesnt care. He latches on again, getting any plasma he cant get.
"OI YOU FUCKIN' MOSQUITO! GET OFF!"
He doesnt listen, he just keeps drinking till he gets his fill. The werewolf keeps hollering till they stops abruptly. He stops drinking, looking up to see the werewolf weakly trying to push him off. He quickly stands up, looking satisfied before saying, "Look at how big and strong you are now werewolf"
"F-fuck off you scumbag"
The werewolf manges to muster before fainting.