Noble Masque Chapter 4.

[Alcatraz]

Hi folks,

I've not posted my writings in a while as a lot of stuff has been going on personally recently, what with work, and other commitmets.

However, in saying that, I am now back at my WIP, and I thought I would give you Chapter 4 to mull over.

For those of you who have not read Chapters 1-3, feel free to put my user name into the advanced search tool on this board, and have a look to catch up.

So without further ado, I give you, ladies, and gentlemen, Noble Masque, Chapter 4.

Chapter 4.

Tobias Quinn knew, without any doubt, that his chest was about to explode. The pain was excruciating, and he was certain he would pass out at any moment, yet he knew that if he were to fail, he would most certainly die.

He closed his eyes, and inhaled deeply. His lungs rebelled, his dry throat rasped, and his heart pounded violently against his chest.

"Just a few yards more." he whispered through clenched teeth.

That was to be Tobias Quinn’s last conscious thought, before he fell to the ground.

As he fell, the last sound Toby heard was the creature’s voice, mocking and taunting, and although he didn’t understand the language, he understood the meaning.

Had Gregory’s plan worked?

Of course the plan worked. Gregory was Toby’s Merlin. His Gandalf. His mentor. His friend.

Yes the plan had been success. It had to work.

The Nascosto stood proudly, gloating over the fallen prey at his feet. The boy had spirit, and, for a human, had given good chase. Perhaps, if he was feeling generous he would welcome the boy into the Nascosto fold, after feeding fully from him of course. Then again, he mused, he may just feed, and let the boy die.

The Vampire reached down, and with his long, talon fingers grabbed Toby’s limp, exhausted body, and lifted him as a child would lift a rag-doll. The creature ran its tongue over the sharp teeth, sneered, and bent his mouth to Toby’s neck.

Disturbed by an invisible force, the Nascosto stopped, petrified. Slowly, and deliberately, he raised his head, sniffed the air, and silently mouthed a single word.

‘Stirgoi.’

“Put the boy down, Nascosto.” The man with the long, fine, red hair ordered. His strong, Belfast, Irish accent cutting the silence of the deserted street.

Gaius Proculus, the Roman Nascosto Lord hissed, and dropped Toby, lifelessly, to the ground. From the scents, and sounds, he knew he was outnumbered. He sensed, although he couldn’t see, that there were at least ten Stirgoi surrounding him in the shadows.

Not only Stirgoi.

“Gregory?” Proculus whispered.

Gregory stepped out from the shadows, his hands tucked into the pockets of his long trench coat, his eyes showing the anxiety of having used Toby as bait to lure Proculus out of his nest.

“What’s the matter, Watcher?” Proculus hissed, “Are you afraid to face me alone, without your tame Stirgoi pets?”

Kearney, the Irish Stirgoi, enraged at this slur lunged towards Proculus, baring his long canine teeth, “We are no-ones pets, Nascosto,” he said drawing a Bren Ten pistol from a holster, concealed under his tan coloured suede jacket.

Gregory turned to Kearney, and shook his head.

Proculus laughed, “Oh, how the Nascosto fear the great Gregory, yet here he is cowering under the protection of half-bloods. I recall hearing how you destroyed the Nascosto of Venice with a wave of your hand. Surely, that is now proven to be a myth?”

Gregory remained silent. A grin replacing the anxiousness, which had prevailed on his face moments earlier. Slowly a slim hand was withdrawn from the pocket of the trench coat, a hand that was stretched out toward the Nascosto, beckoning, and commanding.

Proculus lurched forward, seized by an unseen force. A force that dragged him inexorably forward despite his best efforts, until Gregory’s outstretched hand was almost touching the Vampire’s chest.

Gregory clenched his hand into a tight fist, and Proculus fell to his knees, clutching his chest.

Slowly, Gregory opened his fist, motioned Proculus to rise, which he did, until he was held like a puppet hanging on invisible strings, his feet dangling inches from the ground.

Gregory leaned in close to Proculus, but not close enough, and in a voice colder than the first ice of winter said, “Never underestimate my abilities again. Do we understand each other Lord Proculus?”

Gregory put his hands back in his pocket and moved away from Proculus, who promptly fell to his hands and knees.

“What do you want, Watcher?” asked Proculus, who gradually rose to his full height.

“Nascosto. The Hidden, translated from Italian. An apt name. For decades we don’t see or hear from you, yet we now have reports of Nascosto activity occurring all over the World. I simply want to know why your breed are becoming so enthusiastically public?”

Proculus turned and stared at Toby, who was lifted into a seated position by a tall Stirgoi woman, who appeared to be rather concerned about the young human.

Angered, Gregory lurched forward. Violently he grabbed Proculus by the throat, and hauled him from the ground. “Tobias Quinn is under my protection, Proculus. Do not test my patience, why are the Nascosto ignoring the Détente?”

Proculus hissed, as he tried to break free from Gregory’s vice like grip.

Gregory stared into the blood-red eyes, sunk in the white, marbled face of Proculus, his own eyes turning as black as ebony. “Tell me what you know!” he shouted.

Proculus laughed as though he had not a care in the world. Here he was being throttled by a human, a Watcher nonetheless, and surrounded by his blood enemies, yet all he could do was laugh.

“We feed because we choose to, Watcher. Your Détente means nothing to us. We are our own masters, and we are not held to the whim of any who are not Nascosto.” Proculus replied.

Gregory released his grip, and put his hands back in his pockets, his eyes returning to their normal wizened form and colour.

“Mister Kearney, I thank you for your assistance this evening. Please pass on my regards and wishes to Monsieur Benoit, and Mister Uchendo.” Gregory said to the Irish Stirgoi.

“No problem, Gregory. What do you want done with bat features over there?” Kearney asked, thumbing to the direction of the weakened Nascosto, who was once again on his knees.

“Would you be kind enough as to inter him securely for the time being, I may have some further questions for him in the near future.”

The female Stirgoi who was caring for Toby stood and removed a cell phone from her pocket. Speaking into the phone she walked towards Gregory and Kearney, passed Proculus who was being led away, bound and guarded by three Stirgoi.

“Gregory, Monsieur Benoit wishes to speak to you.” She said passing the phone to Gregory, who reluctantly and disdainfully put the infernal contraption to his ear. He listened for a few moments and then asked the question which was burning in his mind.

“Are you sure it’s her, Hugo?”

Hugo Benoit must have replied in the affirmative, as Gregory nodded, “Hugo, it is important that she remains with Jacob and Anna until I can get there. We have just captured Gaius Proculus, so her life is in great danger. She needs the protection of your House, Hugo…Yes, I’ll be there as soon as possible. Oh, and Hugo, could you release her colleagues with some altered memory as to what actually occurred, thank you?”

Gregory handed the phone back to the female Stirgoi, “How is Tobias?” he asked, concerned.

“He needs rest and fluids. I’ve given him some water for the time being, but I think he’ll need to be checked out by a Doctor.”

“Mister Kearney, would you do me the favour of taking Tobias with you, and letting Doctor Hunter have a look at him. I’m concerned that I may have put too much onto my young friends shoulders this evening.”

Doctor Alistair Hunter was a promising physician, until he was turned, against his will, by a renegade Stirgoi, and he had used the last three hundred years to study advances in human medicine, and make breakthroughs in both Nascosto and Stirgoi physiology as well. There was no-one Gregory trusted more as a Doctor to care for Tobias.

“Sure thing, Gregory. Are you not coming back to the House with us?”

“No. I have one last errand before I commit myself to this pursuit.”

Gregory turned and walked towards his young friend, who on seeing Gregory, smiled.

“Hey, Gregory,” he said weakly, “We got him, didn’t we?”

“Yes, Tobias, we got him.” Gregory relied smiling.

However, what Gregory wanted to know was, who had set the Nascosto free on the World again?

More importantly, he needed to know…

Why?

[Alcatraz]

Please?

[chrispenycate]

Originally Posted by Alcatraz

Hi folks,

I've not posted my writings in a while as a lot of stuff has been going on personally recently, what with work, and other commitmets.

However, in saying that, I am now back at my WIP, and I thought I would give you Chapter 4 to mull over.

For those of you who have not read Chapters 1-3, feel free to put my user name into the advanced search tool on this board, and have a look to catch up.

So without further ado, I give you, ladies, and gentlemen, Noble Masque, Chapter 4.

Chapter 4.

Tobias Quinn knew, without any doubt, that his chest was about to explode. The pain was excruciating, and he was certain he would pass out at any moment, yet he knew that if he were to fail, he would most certainly die.

He closed his eyes, and inhaled deeply. His lungs rebelled, his dry throat rasped, and his heart pounded violently against his chest.

"Just a few yards more." he whispered through clenched teeth.

That was to be Tobias Quinn’s last conscious thought, before he fell to the ground.

As he fell, the last sound Toby heard was the creature’s voice, mocking and taunting, and although he didn’t understand the language, he understood the meaning.

Had Gregory’s plan worked?

Of course the plan worked. Gregory was Toby’s Merlin. His Gandalf. His mentor. His friend.

Yes the plan had been

a sccess? successful?

success. It had to work.

The Nascosto stood proudly, gloating over the fallen prey at his feet. The boy had spirit, and, for a human, had given

a? (I'm less sure about that one)

good chase. Perhaps, if he was feeling generous

comma

he would welcome the boy into the Nascosto fold, after feeding fully from him of course. Then again, he mused, he may

might

just feed, and let the boy die.

The Vampire reached down, and with his long, talon fingers grabbed Toby’s limp, exhausted body, and lifted him as a child would lift a rag-doll. The creature ran its tongue over the sharp teeth, sneered, and bent his mouth to Toby’s neck.

Disturbed by an invisible force, the Nascosto stopped, petrified. Slowly, and deliberately, he raised his head, sniffed the air, and silently mouthed a single word.

‘Stirgoi.’

“Put the boy down, Nascosto.” The man with the long, fine, red hair ordered. His strong, Belfast, Irish

perhaps with a hyphen, the comment would be accepted; but the Ulster accent is so different from the rest of the isle, and neither side of the border would aprove of an Ulsterman being calle "irish"

accent cutting the silence of the deserted street.

Gaius Proculus, the Roman Nascosto Lord

comma

hissed, and dropped Toby, lifelessly,

it's not quite "lifelessly", as that's an adverb that would describe the "dropped", ie. Proculus. And it's not quite "comma lifeless" either, because he's inert, not dead. Maybe "Toby's lifeless form" or something

to the ground. From the scents, and sounds, he knew he was outnumbered. He sensed, although he couldn’t see, that there were at least ten Stirgoi surrounding him in the shadows.

Not only Stirgoi.

“Gregory?” Proculus whispered.

Gregory stepped out from the shadows, his hands tucked into the pockets of his long trench coat, his eyes showing the anxiety of having used Toby as bait to lure Proculus out of his nest.

“What’s the matter, Watcher?” Proculus hissed, “Are you afraid to face me alone, without your tame Stirgoi pets?”

Kearney, the Irish Stirgoi, enraged at this slur

comma

lunged towards Proculus, baring his long canine teeth, “We are no-ones

no-one's

pets, Nascosto,” he said drawing a Bren Ten pistol from a holster,

no comma

concealed under his tan coloured suede jacket.

Gregory turned to Kearney, and shook his head.

Proculus laughed, “Oh, how the Nascosto fear the great Gregory, yet here he is cowering under the protection of half-bloods. I recall hearing how you destroyed the Nascosto of Venice with a wave of your hand. Surely, that is now proven to be a myth?”

Gregory remained silent. A grin replacing

either "replaced" or the previous full stop should have been a comma

the anxiousness,

no comma

which had prevailed on his face moments earlier. Slowly a slim hand was withdrawn from the pocket of the trench coat, a hand that was stretched out toward the Nascosto, beckoning, and commanding.

Proculus lurched forward, seized by an unseen force. A force that dragged him inexorably forward despite his best efforts, until Gregory’s outstretched hand was almost touching the Vampire’s chest.

Gregory clenched his hand into a tight fist, and Proculus fell to his knees, clutching his chest.

Slowly, Gregory opened his fist, motioned Proculus to rise, which he did, until he was held like a puppet hanging on invisible strings, his feet dangling inches from the ground.

Gregory leaned in close to Proculus, but not close enough,

not close enough for what?

and in a voice colder than the first ice of winter said, “Never underestimate my abilities again. Do we understand each other

comma

Lord Proculus?”

Gregory put his hands back in his pocket

surely, he'd onle taken one hand out? Andputting both hands into one pocket…

and moved away from Proculus, who promptly fell to his hands and knees.

“What do you want, Watcher?” asked Proculus, who gradually rose to his full height.

“Nascosto. The Hidden, translated from Italian. An apt name. For decades we don’t see or hear from you, yet we now have reports of Nascosto activity occurring all over the World. I simply want to know why your breed are becoming so enthusiastically public?”

Proculus turned and stared at Toby, who was lifted into a seated position by a tall Stirgoi woman, who appeared to be rather concerned about the young human.

two "who"s?

Angered, Gregory lurched forward. Violently he grabbed Proculus by the throat, and hauled him from the ground. “Tobias Quinn is under my protection, Proculus. Do not test my patience, why are the Nascosto ignoring the Détente?”

Proculus hissed, as he tried to break free from Gregory’s vice like

vice-like

grip.

Gregory stared into the blood-red eyes, sunk in the white, marbled face of Proculus, his own eyes turning as black as ebony. “Tell me what you know!” he shouted.

Proculus laughed as though he had not a care in the world. Here he was being throttled by a human, a Watcher nonetheless, and surrounded by his blood enemies, yet all he could do was laugh.

“We feed because we choose to, Watcher. Your Détente means nothing to us. We are our own masters, and we are not held to the whim of any who are not Nascosto.” Proculus replied.

Gregory released his grip, and put his hands back in his pockets, his eyes returning to their normal wizened form and colour.

“Mister Kearney, I thank you for your assistance this evening. Please pass on my regards and wishes to Monsieur Benoit, and Mister Uchendo.” Gregory said to the Irish Stirgoi.

“No problem, Gregory. What do you want done with bat features over there?” Kearney asked, thumbing to

in the direction

the direction of the weakened Nascosto, who was once again on his knees.

“Would you be kind enough as to inter him securely for the time being, I may have some further questions for him in the near future.”

The female Stirgoi who was caring for Toby stood and removed a cell phone from her pocket. Speaking into the phone she walked towards Gregory and Kearney, passed

past

Proculus who was being led away, bound and guarded by three Stirgoi.

“Gregory, Monsieur Benoit wishes to speak to you.” She said passing the phone to Gregory, who reluctantly and disdainfully put the infernal contraption to his ear. He listened for a few moments and then asked the question which was burning in his mind.

“Are you sure it’s her, Hugo?”

Hugo Benoit must have replied in the affirmative, as Gregory nodded, “Hugo, it is important that she remains with Jacob and Anna until I can get there. We have just captured Gaius Proculus, so her life is in great danger. She needs the protection of your House, Hugo…Yes, I’ll be there as soon as possible. Oh, and Hugo, could you release her colleagues with some altered memory as to what actually occurred, thank you?”

Gregory handed the phone back to the female Stirgoi, “How is Tobias?” he asked, concerned.

“He needs rest and fluids. I’ve given him some water for the time being, but I think he’ll need to be checked out by a Doctor.”

“Mister Kearney, would you do me the favour of taking Tobias with you, and letting Doctor Hunter have a look at him. I’m concerned that I may have put too much onto my young friends shoulders this evening.”

Doctor Alistair Hunter

had been

was a promising physician, until he

had been

was turned, against his will, by a renegade Stirgoi, and he had used the last three hundred years to study advances in human medicine, and make breakthroughs in both Nascosto and Stirgoi physiology as well. There was no-one Gregory trusted more as a Doctor to care for Tobias.

“Sure thing, Gregory. Are you not coming back to the House with us?”

“No. I have one last errand before I commit myself to this pursuit.”

Gregory turned and walked towards his young friend, who on seeing Gregory, smiled.

“Hey, Gregory,” he said weakly, “We got him, didn’t we?”

“Yes, Tobias, we got him.” Gregory relied smiling.

However, what Gregory wanted to know was,

perhaps that comma before the "was"

who had set the Nascosto free on the World again?

More importantly, he needed to know…

Why?

[Leisha]

Just a couple more points (haven't read the previous chapters BTW):

"Just a few yards more." he whispered through clenched teeth.

That was to be Tobias Quinn’s last conscious thought, before he fell to the ground.

As he fell, the last sound Toby heard was the creature’s voice, mocking and taunting, and although he didn’t understand the language, he understood the meaning.

Had Gregory’s plan worked?

Of course the plan worked. Gregory was Toby’s Merlin. His Gandalf. His mentor. His friend.

Yes the plan had been success. It had to work.

Surely then, "Just a few yards more" was not his last thought; you've gone on to him thinking about his mentor and the plan. Unless I am reading it wrong?

Another comment I hope you find useful: when you have a couple of adjectives together, try and put the word "and" in between. If it goes, i.e., "The stick was wooden and black", then use a comma to seperate the words. If the "and" doesn't fit, i.e., "The man with the fine and red hair", then don't use a comma to separate the adjectives.

The story sounded intriguing otherwise, so good luck!