Of all the parts of Anglond that were feeling the fury of the Vampires, arguably no county had it better that the very county in which the capitol of Anglond resided. London itself had been taken by the vampires of House Dracones quite early in the Month of Long Fangs, but rather than indulge in torture, rape or other barbarous acts that a normal invader might do, the ‘Blood Dragons’ behaved quite a bit differently. The only acts of violence that were perpetrated by the meatheads of House Dracones were those directed at rebels and other people who had, as Valka had so eloquently put it, “disregarded the honorable defeat they had suffered and the honorable occupation they now dealt with.”

To House Dracones, if you lost a fight and were spared you were honor-bound to the will of the one who defeated you, unless they themselves were dishonorable. To House Dracones, strength and honor were all, and any of their House who broke the sacred rules of duty put in place by the Founder were no more than the savage and barbaric monsters that the mortals so despised and feared. Those two of their House who had defied their most venerated and honorable Emperor had by now been scrubbed from the records and to even speak their name in passing was considered a crime worthy of immense punishment.

The dishonor they had been forced to endure due to the foolish actions of those two young-bloods had shamed them greatly, and now they were doubling down on their rhetoric of “Honor, Nobility, Strength and Duty Above All!” The very idea of bringing harm to these defeated people for such barbarous reasons as hunger and entertainment was beyond them, these mortals had lost, and now they were citizens of the most honorable and powerful nation to ever exist! To harm their own citizens, even due to ‘the hunger’ was impossible, as their code would not allow it.

The traitors, saboteurs, criminals and terrorists on the other hand were perfectly fair game.

Eventually the people of London realized that the best way to avoid the blades and fangs of their occupiers was to not act out, but soon also realized that the ‘Blood Dragons’ of House Dracones tolerated some of what the former rulers of the city would have called ‘sedition’ and even encouraged people to voice complaints. Yes, the people of London were blessed(?) to have been occupied by the most tolerant of the Five Great Houses, as even simple complaints were listened to and investigated as if the complainer was a high ranking noble.

At least, this was the case on all days of the week aside from one.

On Saturday, the seventh and final day of the week, the mortals of London kept far away from any alcohol or taverns or bars of pubs for one good reason. The vampires of House Dracones engaged in a weekly, day-long pub-crawl. Of course, as undead they could not get drunk, but that was the best part! With no need to worry about hangovers or impaired senses, the normally uptight ‘Blood Dragons’ let everything out and held nothing back. Anyone at the tavern they arrived at would be quite nearly forced to drink and drink and drink and drink and drink until either they passed out cold or died of alcohol poisoning, and while the Dracones vampires paid for their own drinks, those foolish enough to go on a city-wide pub-crawl with them often ended up so far in debt that they had no way out.

In the largest tavern in the city, and the final stop for the weekly party held by the House, the celebration was in full swing. Only at the final tavern did the greatest of brews make itself known, a special mixture made by the Founder herself, Valka Dracones. It was a mixture of alcohol and dark magic that would kill a mortal in a single swig but was the only drink capable of rendering a vampire intoxicated, but only for a short time.

Every Sunday morning, the tavern was repaired with magic and the bottles and casks of beer, lager, mead and other beverages were replaced by Valka herself from her own private stash. Even though they had to put up with the ruckus made by the vampires on Saturday, the fact that everyone of drinking age now could enjoy alcohol fit for royalty on a regular basis for the price of a regular shot of rot-gut was well worth the annoyance.

Inside the tavern, the sounds of drunken song could be heard;

(Translated from the drunken singing. Imagine that this is being sung with slurred speech and the occasional bodily noise.)

“Drink, for the wind blows cold and

Drink, for The Blood runs free!

Drink to the knights with capes like wings and

Drink to the storm-tossed seas!”

“Drink to the lasting nights

and those who warm our beds!

Drink to the brew that warms our hearts

and the cold that clears our heads!

“Drink to the Empress’ eyes,

for The Lady’s kin are we!

Drink to the woods where the Heroes hang

and their tears of misery!”

“Drink to the truth of steel

and to blood that falls like rain!

Drink to Darksol’s ebon walls

and to our kinsmen, slain!”

“Drink to the Glory-field

where life embraces death!

And thank the Gods we’re here at all

with a joyous, endless breath!”

“Drink for the wind blows cold and

Drink for The Blood runs free!

Drink to the knights with the capes like wings,

for The Lady’s kin are we!”

This party was just like any other, until someone interrupted the jubilant undead.

The tavern doors opened and in rushed a awfully scared young man. About 14-15 years old, he was a scrawny little boy, more stick-like than well-built and desperately trying to interject into the massive drinking song that was being sung. Only one vampire noticed the wimpy little nobody, Valka, and she finished directly chugging her special brew from a massive barrel and with a toss hurled it across the tavern. The muscled amazon-like red-haired vampiress stumbled over to the boy in a drunken stupor, collapsed onto the ground and held herself up using the frail and shivering body of the terrified teen.

“You… You, you what…? You want… what? What is it? You… you want some meat *hic* on those bones? We’ll get ya some meat on those bones… Yeah…”

Valka paused and partially drifted into unconsciousness before snapping back to being awake.

“Who are you again? Nevermind~… You, *hic* I like ya… You’re a good boy, a good *hic* boy…”

Valka turned to the other drunken vampires and yelled at the top of her undead lungs.

“You guys see this one?! This... this is... is... my... mine... my human! He’s MINE! You guys got that?!”

This was met with drunken hoots and hollers from the inebriated mob, but Valka paid it no mind and turned back to the boy.

“So… what? What can I… *hic*… what can I get ya?”

“Um… Attack… There’s an attack…”

Valka’s drunken mind seemed to partially understand what was being implied. This was a great feat for one who, if mortal, would by now have a blood-alcohol content of 1.15% from her special brew alone.

“HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA?????????????!!!!!!!!!!”

Valka made a sound that seemed to imply that she was both annoyed and was inquiring more about the ‘attack’.

“There is *gulp* a force of bandits… Deserters likely, that are trying to attack the ci-“

Valka didn’t give the boy time to finish as she lifted her body up from the boy and let her regeneration reactivate. She. Was. Pissed! Cracking her neck and stretching a bit, she whistled loudly and caught the attention of the tavern (technically a repurposed mansion) full of vampire knights.

“Oi, you lot! Get up! Some asshat brigands have interrupted our weekly celebration! Yeah, you heard right! Brigands, bandits, deserters and all other manner of criminal garbage have made the absolutely idiotic decision that NOW of all times is perfect for them to try and fuck up the city that WE are in! How about we go show these shitty little cock-sucking, pansy-ass, milk-drinking fuck-wits what we do to people like them?! What do ya say?!”

Rather than reply with words, the drunken vampires (all still in their full armor with weapons at their sides) began to rhythmically pound the floor with either their feet or their hands (if they were too drunk to stand). Valka pulled her massive flamberge from her back and lifted it into the air. With a simple battle-cry she let loose the inebriated undead on the unprepared foe.

“LET’S FUCK ‘EM UP!”

As Valka turned and rushed out the door, she stopped and bent over.

“Uuurkp…..BLEEAEEEEAAAGHHGHH!”

The scrawny young man nervously looked at the bent over apex predator who, without even looking back or standing up flashed a thumbs up and then continued on her way to fight the bandits. Looking back towards the other vampires he saw the whole House void their stomachs and recover completely from being drunk. Following their Founder out towards the battle, they left the converted mansion in tatters but with exact change piled up on the counter.

The boy could only watch in amazement as the heavily armored killers sped off out of view and as they vanished from sight, he uttered his first sentence not tinged with fear or anxiety.

“Well, that was something….”

The last thing the boy heard as the sounds of the vampire knights began to pass through the center of town was their opening battle-cry.

“FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK~ YOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU~!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”