Untitled as for now Story!

[Angel--of--Music]

Okay, so this is my book. Chapter one is very short, the rest will be longer.

Chapter One
The quiet London streets were disturbed last night. ‘The Chapman’s daughter was torn apart by a dog of some kind. He had howled, eating the poor child alive.’ It was everywhere in the news, joining the dreary day. I assure you, the problem was solved. I shot the monster, so I promise he is no more. There are many more of them around. Sad as it is, I promise to destroy them all. The werewolf race will be no more. As Poe’s Raven hath quote, “Nevermore, nevermore, nevermore.” I pray this woe will prove not to dote upon the night. I beseech you to make hast every night, or the streets will be your sepulcher.

[volkodlakmojster]

tis good!

[Angel--of--Music]

Thanks!

Sven's Practice Paragraph
“And then I said ‘What future?’ and then she slapped me, saying I was inconsiderate and moody.” The small group of workers howled with laugher. Sven smirked and lit a cigar, and taking in the addicting fumes, continued his story.
“Then Varick slapped me to, complaining about me being rude to the sweet girlie. And I replied with a punch to his stomach. He almost tore my head off, he did.” Te small boy punched the air in a boxing motion, as to show what he did to the vampire.
“He also said he was 12 years my se-ni-or, and that I needed to learn some manners. I said ‘Hey, I’m a street kid, I need no manners.’ Then he pulled me here by my ear.” Sven grinned, indicating his slightly red right ear.

[{×ÏÑk§tÊ®88×}]

..oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo....

[Angel--of--Music]

Chapter 2


Now, the Curtis family is the most well known family in London, save for the Queen Victoria, of course. They are actually distant cousins of the Queen. Lord Curtis is well known through all the sectors. Some respect him, some dislike him. As for our hero’s, Varick respects the man for his high intelligence. Sven on the other hand despises the man and any aristocracy. Harmony revels her father and respects him, he being the one to teach her almost everything she knows. Back to our tale, London was in a panic after the attack on the sweet Chapman child, whom had given joy to so many. The higher class gave their deepest condolences to the family. The lower class feared for their lives, as their homes were easy to get in to.

Varick, wishing to think about something else after his kill, walked through the lonely, thin streets of the third class London. He stopped in front of a small house.
“Sven!” he called out. Groaning could be heard within.
“Sven?” he called out again, curious as to what was wrong with his friend.
“I’m comin’!” Sven’s voice came from inside the house, annoyed at the early intrusion. The door unlocked and opened.
“By God Sven! What happened to your hands?!” Sven shrugged, seemly not caring about his burnt hands.
“Lost the gloves ya gave me.” Varick groaned and slapped his forehead.
“Sorry.” Sven shrugged again, this time rolling his eyes. Varick sighed.
“Take a day off, and I will make you some new ones.” Sven scoffed.
“No way. Unlike you, I need those 10 pence.” Varick groaned again. The alp could be so stubborn at times.
“Here.” Varick held out a bag. “1 pound in pence. Now take the day off. By the end of the day, your hands may have well been burned off.” Sven grinned.
“You’ve sold me!” He said happily, taking the bag. Varick smiled slightly.
“Good, now come with me.” Sven put the bag into his pocket, following Varick.

”So, where’re we goin’?” he asked. Varick smiled slightly, stealing Sven’s hat.
“My house.” He said. Sven tried to steal his beloved hat back.
“C’mon, you know I need that!” He cried. Varick started to run, hat in hand. Sven ran after him.
“Give that back!” Varick smirked and ran faster.
“Try!” he called, looking behind him. He turned a corner and crashed into something.
“Ow…” a female voice said. Varick held out his hand, bowing.
“My deepest apologies, madam.” The girl took his hand. He helped her up. She was about a foot shorter than him, long brown hair behind her back. Her deep green eyes stared up at him. Varick stayed calm.
“I pray you are not injured?” he asked. The girl shook her head.
“No, I’m fine. Thank you, sir.” Varick smiled.
“Good.” He said. Sven grabbed his hat from Varick, sneering at the girl before continuing on his way. Varick glared.
“My apologies for my friend’s rude actions. I am Varick; may I be honored to know your name?” The girl blushed.
“Harmony Curtis…and it’s quite alright…but, is he okay? His hands…” Varick smiled sadly.
“It will heal in time. He is an alp, and the only job he could acquire was one in an iron factory. I had made him some gloves, but he lost them.” Harmony stared.
“He looks so young…” Varick laughed.
“I assure you, my lady, he is not young.” He grinned. Harmony laughed slightly.
“I see…” A woman dressed robes ran around the corner.
“Harmony! There you are…your father calls.” Harmon started too walked towards her.
“I’m coming,” she looked back, “Farewell, Varick, it was plesent meeting you.” With one last smile, she left with the other woman.

Varick turned and ran up to Sven, grabbing his arm. He was shocked; his whole hand could fit around the thin arm. Regaining his composure, Varick slapped Sven.
“That was very rude.” Sven looked up lazily.
“Your point?” Varick frowned. Nothing was going to faze his friend. He let go of Sven’s arm.
“Come.” He hissed, walking up to his house. Sven followed, smirking. A young boy ran up.
“Welcome home Master Varick! And you bring Master Sven with you! Welcome, welcome!” Sven tipped his hat.
“Morning John.” He thought for a moment. “Also, my condolences for your dear sister.” Johan nodded.
“They believe it was murder” Sven shook his head sadly.
“When did you get the letter?”
“Just yesterday. I hope to go to Ostnabruek for the funeral. Master Johann seemed distressed.” Varick sighed.
“John, you know you have my permission to go.” Johan smiled sadly.
“Simone always allways said you were a great caretaker.”
“I was arranging a trip for your birthday…I am truly sorry I could not have gotten you there sooner.” Varick sighed. “Didrika and Simone, two weeks from each other…” John looked up.
“How did Miss. Didrika die?!”
“Von Austerlitz fury.” John pouted.
“I knew they’d do something rotten!” Varick patted Johns head.
“They took their hate of Johann out on those around him.” John thought for a minute.
“Oh my gosh…do you think they killed my sister?!” He panicked. Varick frowned and thought.
“It may be so…” Varick said darkly, his gold eyes shimmering with anger. Sven scoffed.
“Filthy aristocrats.” John stared at his feet. Varick smiled sadly.
“Come, lets all eat.” Sven and John nodded, running into the dining room. Varick had set up fruit and buttered toast.
“Finally! A real mean!” Sven cried out with glee. John looked over, confused.
“Soup kitchens work, but nothing beats a full breakfast!” He indicated the feast in front of them. It was then John noticed his scarred hands. He gasped.
“Oh, Master Sven, are you alright?” Sven nodded.
“Hurts like hell, but I’ll survive. 16th century streets weren’t all that nice, y’know.” John sat at the table, hanging his head.
“No need to feel sorry for me. I love it, made me tough.” Sven punched the air. Varick walked out of the kitchen holding two empty glasses, and another filled with a red liquid. He placed the glasses in front of John and Sven.
“The wine is right there.” Sven said, indicating a large jug. Sven tried to pock the jug up, hissing in pain. John took it and filled up Sven’s cup. Sven sighed.
“Thank you.” John smiled, filling his own cup.
“Glad to serve.” Varick smiled, sitting at the head of the table. He held up his glass.
“To the death of a werewolf.” John and Sven held up their own glasses.
“Cheers.”

[tabiris]

very nice. fun fun even