[size=12:813e47d830]((Note, this is a freeform Nosferatu only thread. Although on occasion Malks may be welcome ;) I hope you all enjoy it and that some of you take part :)[/size:813e47d830]
[i:813e47d830]The bowels of Cascadia...[/i:813e47d830]
The sewer yawned.
Of course, it was simply a complex series of tunnels, pipes, drains and underground pools, it couldn’t “yawnâ€. But it did.
The sound may or may not have simply been the rumblings of tube trains travelling above, or the echo of water rushing from an opened sluice in the distance. But to him it seemed like it was yawning. The nights always started the same. He would wake from his resting place, temporarily oblivious to the aches his form enforced upon him. But then as his wide nostrils would flare, drawing in the fetid air, he would quickly reassert his position.
His eyes still half shut with sleep would begin to pick out details littering his chamber. Ancient shit, almost primordial in its foulness, clung to the walls. Trying to dry on the concrete, only for a passing piss-infected deluge of water to rush over it, washing the tunnel he slept in “cleanâ€.
He pushed his claw like fingers into a particularly loathsome heap of something wet and cold, drawing out a plastic spoon. He flicked some of the gloop, using the spoon as a simple catapult, at a watching rat, chuckling as the rodent, deeply offended, ran off screeching.
No doubt he would have one of the Broodmates on his case later. The rat did look awfully familiar...
He straightened his suit jacket, straightening his imaginary tie mockingly. Spitting out a mouthful of raw sewage he wiped his fanged maw on his jacket sleeve. His naked, elongated skull glistened in the low light the warren offered.
A sound in the distance made him start. Something crashed. Something then bellowed. And finally there was a half-hearted “fuck itâ€.
One of the warren’s inventor types had managed to break whatever crap they were trying to build.
He lurched off in the direction of the spawning pools, his stubby snout wrinkled in concentration as he considered the best way to spend the night.
A sighing to his left made him smile, which sadly only served to make him look even more ghastly.
[i:813e47d830]“Morning sexy.â€
“Manes.â€[/i:813e47d830]
Acetone, one of the Warren’s more hideous residents stood sheathed in shadow. The air thicker, more cloying, more acrid, just like her namesake when she was around. She nodded, that much he could see. But in all their time in the Warren. He had never seen her true face.
[i:813e47d830]“Going someplace nice today, Acetone?â€
“Shopping. They need new outfits.â€
“Might see you up top later then. Fancy a visit to the Ladies Dressing room myself.â€[/i:813e47d830] He sniggered obscenely, falling silent as she shrugged and sloped away.
He watched her disappear in the opposite direction, then plodded knee deep in the porridge of algae, excrement and urine. Rats squeaked as he passed, some were just saying hello, others were trying to pass on information, and a scant few were simply being rude.
Manes pulled himself onto a rusted iron ladder, climbing the slippery scum covered rungs. A narrow grate, rusted shut, served as a barrier between the passage and the spawning pools beyond it.
He dislocated his shoulders, cracking them as he pulled himself up. Then, with supernatural resolve and strength, he slimed into the pools. His craggly fingers finding purchase on the rot rouge floors.