art stuff

Damn These Vampires part 2

Apparently instead of the Ren lore I intended, the writing brain felt like locking in to make the lore drop about Oakhearst and primarily Vampires in the form of story times with Ren and so here

I genuinely tried to add more about the Werewolves(I tried so hard that I'm literally, actually tired rn) but my brain was just NOT  having it T-T so I'll clarify things in end notes. If I didn't explain something well enough, let me know and ask questions, I'll gladly answer em

Also also, just to clarify this as well: I'm making it all up. None of the explanations/lore I write should be taken as genuine canon to events in Vampires SMP, I just wanted to have fun and see where the story brain took me. Sorry if it ends up being lame

Renhardt exhales slowly, tension ebbing from his frame as he looks down at Martyn. He seems a lot less frightening than he did two seconds ago. "Did he catch you?" He inquires in a hushed, almost weary voice. His eyes sweep over him, presumably checking for injuries before nodding slightly. Meanwhile, the boy shakes his head, and the brunet releases another heavy sigh as he pats Martyn on the shoulder. "We're very lucky that you weren't, don't'cha know. Let's get away from here."

They walk in silence for a few minutes, the older of the two slowing or fully pausing to look around every now and then. If they're being followed, he makes no true attempt to call their stalker out on it. "Where are Apo and Sausage?" The blond wonders, watching Renhardt more than his surroundings. His gaze constantly swims across the brush around them. "I left them to come find you. I trust them to manage without extra help. With luck, they will be returning to Oakhearst, don't'cha know." He answers, and silence falls once more.

"Scott's a Vampire." Martyn says bluntly, suddenly having a second revelation as it actually, truly, irrefutably hits him. His legs get weak; he had understood initially that Scott was a Vampire and the peril in which he had abruptly found himself, but it hadn't actually set in. Vampires are real. They're real, and Renhardt knew. The silver over his doorstep makes much more sense.

"Indeed. Horrible things, they are. But he is weak...as am I. Oakhearst is a special place, don't'cha know. It's prominent to both Vampire tradition and history." The brunet replies gravely, then turns sharply to the right. A few feet away lies the path Martyn was looking for. If Renhardt hadn't been there, would Martyn have made it this far on his own? He doesn't know. Nor does he want to. "What do you mean? How do you know–wait a minute, what just happened? I'm–it's all just hitting me now." Martyn wonders, so Renhardt lights a torch and guides him to a nearby stump so he can sit. The older puts his torch in between them and rests against a tree directly opposite him. He then dips his head, fixing his glasses. He doesn't speak, so Martyn does.

"What are you?" Martyn demands. Renhardt looks over him with a closed expression. "A Werewolf." He answers. It doesn't sound like an admission of guilt or a jab to make the boy react in any certain way. It's just a fact, stated as simply as he would say that fire is hot. Martyn peers at him for a moment. "You don't look like one." He observes. Renhardt huffs lightly. "Did Scott look like a Vampire when you first laid eyes on him?" He replies. "No...I guess he didn't." Martyn admits, looking down to scuff the dirt with his boot. They're very clearly worn; he was supposed to get them replaced after he returned to the Citadel. Almost a week and a half ago, now. "He is weak, as I said. However, so am I." Renhardt informs him, looking up at the deep crimson sky. "All I have right now are me fangs, and even those will disappear when the morning comes, don't'cha know." That piques the blond boy's interest as he sits forward. "Can you show me?" The man pauses for a moment, then nods in compliance.

He pulls back his lips to show off the sharp points they hide, thicker than those displayed by Scott but on both sets of teeth rather than the top row. They're not outrageously larger than a human's canine teeth, but still a bit too big to be normal. Renhardt's watching him closely. Is he expecting something from him? A reaction? He already had it, now curiosity and the need to understand has taken over. Having seen what he requested and being satisfied, Martyn moves on. "What do you mean, you're weak? I don't–none of the stories I heard mentioned something like that." He wasn't big on reading, but he had a slight phase where he was interested in the myths and tales surrounding the creatures. The older books had some pictures, they specifically made it interesting. Father didn't approve of it. Called it a 'foolish fantasy' and a waste of time, among other things. Looking at the one supposedly in front of him is a disappointment from what he'd envisioned in his head. He's so...human. "That's...harder to explain." Renhardt begins, but Martyn spreads his arms to indicate to their surroundings. "You had me sit down. You're clearly in no rush to go anywhere, and we should be plenty alone out here. Seems like you have all the time in the world to explain." He points out. The brunet sighs, however it sounds a little like a growl as well. Maybe if he pays it no mind, then it didn't happen. He stares down a particular patch of grass a little to the left of and behind Martyn.