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View Full Version : "The Bloody Gentleman" Alabaster Finch Demo & Introduction



SaulMurphy
02-11-2017, 01:03 AM
Come one, come all! To the demo and introduction of my new character: Alabaster Finch. He is now officially part of Acta Sanctorum and will serve the clan for days yet to come. I'm sure you're all excited about this (probably not) so have a gander at the intro-piece:

THE BLOODY GENTLEMAN

The only way to hunt nocturnal creatures is by being one yourself. It is a thankless profession yet when it comes to Alabaster Finch’s resume one might notice that he isn’t proficient in much else.

He awoke thus pre-dusk and mechanically chomped down on some rather tasteless oat cereal. He had lost all desire for good food and exquisite cuisine and so ate for the purpose of nutrition rather than enjoyment. He was staring at his livingroom wall which could be the most plainly painted wall ever seen. Actually his whole apartment was like this.

The walls’ paint was a drab and faded cream colour while he sported dusty curtains; those were never open and thus there was a dim and dusty hue from the setting sun surrounding the rooms. The only furniture he had was his creaky single bed, a slightly moldy wooden cabinet, an uneven table with a beach chair to round it off. Instead of coats hanging from the coat hanger at the door, he has a selection of weaponry and tools for his hunts. In the kitchen one could find an old creaky fridge droning the day away as well as a massive metal chest.

The chest was Alabaster’s greatest treasure; his supplies of course. If one was to open it you would find the greatest trove of weaponry and tools in the neighborhood. He had more but keeping everything in one place was a mistake that Finch was not keen on repeating.

Wiping his mouth on his sleeve, the lonely man walked to his sink and rinsed out his dish. He owned one plate, one fork, one spoon, one glass and one bowl. Everything was rinsed out after use and placed neatly on the drying rack. No need for cupboards when one will just use them all the time. He proceeded to his cabinet in the bedroom where he donned one of his few outfits.

Wearing cargo shorts, a creased white shirt and military boots, he walked to the bathroom to relieve himself. As he stared into the mirror, while keeping busy, he was met with light brown eyes that seemed to have been through the war. He’s never bothered with long hair for it was simply too difficult to maintain whilst he never bothered shaving for he once had a bad experience with a demon barber.

Finishing up he walked to the coat hanger and equipped his array of weapons. Two revolvers on the belt, a crossbow with six bolts, a machete, a long silver knife, a flashlight, and two wooden stakes. Where would he hide such an arsenal? Under his coat which was actually hanging on the coat hanger. After making sure everything was well hidden he left his lonely and boring apartment and ventured toward a hunt.

As he exited the building he grabbed a cigar from his top pocket. He didn’t have money for expensive cubans and thus it was some unknown brand and had a bit of a bitter taste; it suited him perfectly. Lighting the cigar, he took a few puffs before making his way downtown.

The man was a grizzly bear in comparison to the meek citizens of the city. He was rather wide and stood at least a head above most of the sea of people. Everyone was rushing toward their homes from some or other pointless dead end job and didn’t give Alabaster a second glance.

By the time he reached downtown the sun had already done its spectacular lighting display on the horizon and thus a half moon could be seen lethargically lighting the near empty streets. He arrived at his destination however; a small bar with the ironic name of “Bloody Martin’s”. This was ironic for many reasons.

As he walked through the threshold the bar immediately noticed his presence. Some patrons snarled at him while others eyed him warily. Alabaster was used to this kind of behaviour and thus ignored them whilst walking toward the bar. It was a relatively quiet evening so far but it was bound to pick up after midnight by which time Alabaster will be long gone.

“Evenin’ Finch. Usual?” The barkeep said as he took his usual seat at the edge of the counter. He merely grunted a reply as the barman started pouring lower shelf whiskey. Unbeknownst to the patrons of the watering hole, the Hunter kept his hand rested on the hilt of one of his Smith and Wessons. Anybody could decide that the outsider wasn’t needed in the room and thus would like to make quick work of him.

With his free hand Alabaster sipped on the whiskey while a shadowy figure approached him. It was a reedy and small man with a eery twitch. One may pin him for a deranged homeless man for his clothes were in worse state than Finch’s. Dirty fingers were seen scraping oily hair as the man sat beside the outsider.

“I got news you’d be interested in.” His voice was as creepy as his physique. Alabaster didn’t ease his grip and watched the little man with a sidelong glance. “Besides for the usual suspects someone has broken your rule.” He nervously looked around him. Martin’s clientele would still glance their way but the general hostility died down when they realised Alabaster was no longer a threat.

Before replying the hairy man took a swig from his glass and lit a cigar. Giving it a contemplative drag his hard eyes fell on the informant. “Who is it?” His voice was like gravel. Years of whiskey and smoking would do that to one’s throat. The time he had his throat cut and survived probably had a contributing factor as well.

“A member of the Frozen Night clan. One of their young members wanted revenge on his old lover and thus murdered her in her apartment outside the Underscape.” The Underscape was a fictitious area of the city where all the creatures that go bump in the night would stay and keep their evil dealings to themselves. Because Alabaster couldn’t eradicate all evil from the city he told them that they may not venture outside of the border or else he would personally get involved. For the most part he had garnered enough respect from the clans and families that they respected this rule but there were a few rebels.

“Understood. Good work Ratz.” The creepy little man who went by Ratz with a ‘z’ gave a toothy grin. His teeth that were there was yellow. Ratz had been one of Alabaster’s favourite informants since he destroyed the hell portal that threatened the docks. The little creepy man was actually an infernal imp but since being cut off from his demonic circle he’s lost his underworldly powers and had resorted to surviving under Alabaster Finch’s personal protection.

“No problem boss. His name is Craig Greaves. I’m sure you’d be able to find him. See ya!” With that the the imp waddled back to the shadows from whence he came.

“Martin,” Finch said with a bit of salt in his voice. Those who knew him well would know it meant he was excited. The barman raised his head from cleaning glasses. “Know where the Frozen Night recruits waste time?”

Martin thought for a moment and placed a polished glass neatly on the shelf. “Yeah, they’re down near the docks. I think the pub’s called Seaside Royals.” Another adventure near the docks; Alabaster hated large bodies of water.

“Thanks, add it to my tab, I gotta see a man about a murder.” With that he walked toward the exit, finally easing his grip on the revolver.

“When you paying your tab though?” Martin shouted.

“Soon.” With that Alabaster was out the door and on his way toward the StickPage docks.

***

George Prince found himself in a rather strange area of town that evening. He was further away from the warehouse than usual but he’d been looking for investment opportunities and was meeting some strange man at the docks who wanted to start an enterprise. The severance check he’d received after being forcefully laid off from Prince Incorporated was rather hefty but a man needed to spend money to make money.

Dressed in one of his fine suits and sporting a blood red tie he stood on the docks listening to the rumbling of the ocean. StickPage docks had many criminal activities to occupy it at night but The Gentleman was rather confident that he could hold his own with Umbra in hand.

Nearby a few people decided to start their evening with booze at a quaint pub named the Seaside Royals. Nothing royalty about the building. It was a creaking wooden monstrosity with faded paint and probably questionable integrity. The patrons were as you’d expect; dockworkers or young people looking for a cheap drink. George avoided the place for it was rather rough and lacked the class he was accustomed to.

A new customer approached the building; a man who was rather wide and as tall as The Gentleman. The old man carried himself with purpose and his graying hair shone slightly in the evening light. With that he disappeared into the pub and out of George’s mind.

He’d been waiting there on the docks for quite some time and it would seem his dockside contact was nowhere to be found. Giving his bushy moustache a contemplative stroke, George gave up and made his way toward the driveway near Seaside.

As he passed the rather rowdy pub he heard a noise from the alley beside it. It was a rather loud argument and seemed to be escalating toward violent means. Against his better judgement, The Gentleman walked down the alley and peered around the corner. What he saw was the old man of earlier pointing a revolver rather threateningly at a helpless man on the ground. He needed to intervene for a murder was something he did not want to see again.

Gripping Umbra tightly he charged the hulking man to stop him from pulling the trigger. George managed to knock the man’s arm and a shot went off into a nearby garbage bin. He breathed a sigh of relief for he prevented a probable unnecessary killing.

Putting himself between the victim and the killer, George readied himself for a fight.

“You bloody idiot.” A sandpaper voice said coming from the man. “Do you have any idea what you just did?” He had one revolver still pointing past Prince while his other hand was clutching something under his coat. His brown eyes were borrowing holes into the newcomer with such ferocity that it wasn’t a surprise that this man demanded respect everywhere he went.

“I will not stand idly by as you murder this poor man in cold blood.” George swiveled around to point at the poor man but was shocked to find nobody lying on the ground. “Where did he go?”

The old man holstered his revolver and fished a cigar out of his pocket while taking his time lighting it. “Do you know what you have done?” He repeated through a puff of smoke; the anger in the man seemed to have turned into a cold boil. “That man is a vampire, a monster, and you casually let him escape.”

George was still looking around trying to figure out how a man could so easily escape a dead-end alley. It took a few moments for him to register what was said. “Just a moment. Did you say vampire?”

The old man nodded and started walking out of the alleyway. “Yes, I was hunting the creature. How nice of you to get in my way. Now if you would excuse me, I need to track him.”

Feeling a pang of guilt, the Gentleman followed the man. If that really was a monster and it did escape, he will need to make amends. “I shall aid you sir. Grant me the opportunity to wipe my slate clean.”

The old man sighed. “You talk funny and if you do come along, do not expect me to babysit you.”

“Very well. My name is George Prince, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“Call me Alabaster.”

***

For many years Alabaster had a multitude of companions. People he slowly learnt to trust and taught the ins and outs of the Underscape. All of them have met rather gruesome ends and thus he was reluctant to get close to anybody; yet he always accepts the help of anybody who was dumb enough to throw their lot in with him. He was a survivor, which meant he didn’t really care to go around saving others.

Here he found himself with a well-dressed pompous asshole who would probably get him killed. Yet there was something oddly charming about the man. He probably had a spoilt childhood but he doesn’t seem like the spoilt kind at all.

He may be ignorant though. The evening would’ve ended rather quickly if he managed to end Craig’s life in that alley. But he stepped up and wanted to make up for his mistake. Which was fair enough.

The two men, in contrasting outfits, found themselves at a rundown apartment building. Though it seemed to be a place where homeless men would take refuge, Alabaster knew what it was; it was a vampire nest for new recruits and this was in the territory of the Frozen Night clan. If they minded their own business and had him deal with Craig, then nobody will get hurt. However sometimes the newly formed vampires couldn’t quite control their urges.

“What a mess.” George said, his grey eyes judging the structure before them. “I always expected vampires to live in castles or at least highrise lofts.”

“They do but these guys are the runts. They have yet to earn the privilege of a rich lifestyle.” The old man scratched his beard as he walked up to the door. “Be careful, they will attack you if you aren’t alert.I won’t save your sorry ass if that happens.”

The well-dressed man nodded while stroking his moustache. The two of them enter the apartment block and are greeted by a dimly lit corridor with a woman working diligently on a laptop nearby. She looked up at the new arrivals and gave Alabaster a tight smile. She knew who he was and even though she could attempt to drink his blood she knew better. The woman couldn’t hide her hunger for George though as her eyes fell on the aristocrat.

“What ya doin’ here?” She directed the question at the elder of the two.

“Calm down Sebrina. We don’t want any trouble.” His grainy voice earned him two coughs before continuing. “Is Craig Greaves around?”

George stood grasping his umbrella tightly. Alabaster suspected it wasn’t used to keep the rain off one’s head. He was nervous and ready to fight. That was good.

“Yeah. What he do?” She tried hard to seem disinterested but she knew the consequences of Alabaster being interested in one of her kin.

“Broke the treaty. Just need to enforce my law.”

The old man walked down the corridor with George right on his heels. The younger man was eyeing the woman suspiciously even though she was a rather naturally beautiful woman. He never eased his grip and Alabaster similarly grabbed hold of a wooden stake he’s hidden in his trenchcoat. He doesn’t take it out, he simply held onto it.

Their path up the flights of stairs was surprisingly unhindered. Some vampires would come out of their rooms to check why there was living people about but one glance towards the bearded veteran and they would retreat rather quickly. There were some female creatures who tried to tempt George into their rooms using their rather potent sex-appeal but the man was resilient. Fortunate for him they were newly formed vampires. The older ones usually develop a sort of hypnotic ability to more easily trap unwitting prey.

Alabaster once fell for such a trap. He was lured into a den of female vampires by their leader. She was gorgeous. Legs for miles, breasts the size of mangos, luscious hips… this train of thought was dangerous but the point was she seduced him for her younglings to feed upon him and he was very willing to give up his life essence to please her.

If it wasn’t for Spikes who came in and eradicated the whole nest, he would’ve met an early end. The woman begged to be spared but Alabaster’s old mentor was ruthless and killed her without hesitation. That was the first time a whole clan was destroyed because of a hunter and thus the ensuing Underscape war started with Spikes and Finch right in the middle of it.

The old man stopped outside a door on the far side of the fourth floor corridor. George peered around but no threats could be seen. After the Hunter rapped on the door he was met with a couple of ‘shits’ and ‘fucks’ on the other side.

“Craig,” Alabaster shouted. “We never finished our chat.” Movement could be heard and a couple of things were falling over. The man drew his stake as well as one revolver as he turned to his companion. “Cover my back and I will cover yours. They are quick but because they are young they will be awkward in combat.”

George nodded first but then frowned. “Wait. Why would you say ‘they’”? But before he could get a reply the big grizzly of a man kicked in the door and revealed a wrecked livingroom. Obviously it’s occupants have scattered after the knock came and thus left the room in ruin.

“Keep your wits about you, they are still here.” The old man said as he walked deeper into the room aiming the Smith and Wesson at the adjacent doorways. As they both stood in the centre of the room two vampires charged from two entryways. One came at Alabaster and another at George. A shot rang from the revolver slowing the charge of the one while The Gentleman instinctively opened his umbrella to stop the other’s attack.

While one was harmed from the shot it didn’t deter him from recklessly swiping at Alabaster who quickly sank the stake into the monster’s chest. George’s opponent on the other hand bared fangs from the other side of his shield and tried maneuvering around it. He closed the umbrella and tried skewering the man but he was too quick and thus side-stepped the stab.

Vulnerable to attack Prince was powerless to stop the vampire from tackling him to the ground. With a crash the two wrestled as fangs aimed for an exposed neck. To his shock he found blood staining his suit as Alabaster pulls out a stake from the now-dead vampire.

“Thank you.” He said as he pushed the monster off him, the hunger in it’s eyes now a distant memory. As he did this Craig made his way into the room and faced The Hunter.

“I haven’t hurt you man! Why you doin’ this?” He was baring his fangs at the older man and his stance was hostile.

Casually Alabaster holstered his revolver and placed the bloodied stake on a nearby coffee table. He reached for his top pocket and grabbed a cigar and while lighting it he stared at the remaining vampire with a cool and calculating manner. After taking two puffs he replied: “For years I have hunted your kind. Even took down a couple of hellspawn and werewolves as well. I have grown tired of killing you on bare principal.” Craig growled at him, his animalistic tendencies kicking in. “So I have gathered the leaders of the seven vampire clans, the four werewolf pacts and the nine demon lords to discuss a treaty of sorts. I will not kill them or hunt them in any way if they keep to a section named the Underscape. They agreed that I have free reign to hunt and kill any who go outside these confines and thus here I am.”

Craig hesitated before saying anything. George managed to get to his feet and trembled from his ordeal. However he was still grasping his umbrella, ready to use it at any moment.

“I heard about that but I didn’t think it to be true.”

“Well, I am not giving you a free pass for your ignorance. Any last words?”

“You will never take me alive!” He said rather ironically as he charged the old man. With one quick motion Alabaster ducked under the clutches of the vampire and grabbed hold of the stake. Craig saw the threat coming and thus dashed out of reach.

George merely watched the altercation from a safe distance for he knew he was mildly unmatched. It was over rather quickly however for even though the undead menace was out of reach, a quick drawn hip shot from the Hunter was all it took to end the monster. The once blood sucking creature was now a lifeless mess with a beautifully accurate hole in the centre of his head.

“Well,” The Gentleman said, “that was quite an adventure.” Alabaster holstered his revolver and wiped the blood off of the wooden stake. He turned toward the door without uttering a word and it forced the suit wearing man to follow on his heels. There was no way he was going to stick around a vampire nest without the help of Alabaster Finch.

Once they were safely outside, with a rather crude and sexually oriented comment from Sabrina toward George, the old man lit another cigar.

“Those sticks would not bode well for your health.” Mr Prince said stroking his moustache habitually. He seemed rather tired now that the adrenalin of the situation had subsided.

“Mr Fancypants, I am old and I am tired. I could die any day and I seriously doubt it will be these ‘sticks’.” He waved the lit cigar to emphasize his point.

George nodded, content with the answer he was given. “I have a proposal for you however if you’re interested.”

“Go on.”

***

The offer of a clan was a rather surprising one for Alabaster. He’s worked alone most of his life and being part of a team seemed a little unnecessary. However it did afford him to use the Acta Sanctorum base for operations and they are rather well funded which is good. No more dry cereal.

Moving into his room was rather funny for he did not possess much in the way of clothing or amenities. He did however bring a large sum of weaponry which takes up the majority of his room.

When he met the other two clan mates he was surprised. The one, a very gloomy and serious swordsman with laugh lines which made little sense. He was polite however and seemed to respect a man of Alabaster’s age.

The other was accompanied by her lover. Serena was quiet and reclusive and didn’t utter a word to him, however her partner was far more chatty. Alabaster got along well with her enough but still had an affinity for the loner siren.

Who knew what could happen next for the clan? Only time will tell.

ChristianEater
02-16-2017, 02:18 AM
I enjoy the scene where you described the protagonist's appearance by mirror. I do the same, but when writing in the first person.

I noticed that as the story went on, I felt that you became more "confident" in writing, so the beginning feels a little bland. Easily fixed by returning to the start, and rewriting it while you are filled with the same passion you felt from the rest of the story.