Rurrehollow, the vampire section of the Underworld, a place of decaying forests, ruined villages, and bloodthirsty creatures. Today, or rather tonight, since it is always twilight in the Underworld, a lone vampire runs through the ruins of Tarnenheim, the capital of Rurrehollow. He approached the castle of the Lord Ruthven, acting regent of Rurrehollow, a gloomy, dark castle, surrounded by bats. The vampire walked through dank hallways to the council hall, where Ruthven did his political duties. The vampire saw Ruthven sitting in his high backed chair, wearing a black cloak, dark blue shirt and pants, and the inside of his cloak was red. Ruthven was a very imposing figure, sleek black hair, cold, black eyes, and unusually big fangs, not to mention he was six foot seven. As the messenger approached the table, Lord Ruthven was looking at rune-covered parchment papers, he looked up,
"I hope this is good news you are about to tell me." The vampire messenger gulped.
"Ah, well, you remember the half-demon you sent Honorius after?"
"Yes." Growled the vampire regent.
"He killed Honorius and his te-hakkk!" The scout was grasped by the throat and hoisted seven inches of the ground. Ruthven did not look happy.
"I am so sorry to have to tell you this, but it is custom to kill the bearer of bad news." The regent growled. He drew a rapier from it's sheath and plunged it into the other's heart, he screamed then turned to ash. Ruthven turned to the statue behind the high back chair, rubbing his temples.
"Ah soon, my lord, soon I shall have the half-demon's power. Power to become the Deathrider, my lord!" He spat on the statue that was Dracula, king of all vampires.
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