...The Created
Adam stared at his twisted, malformed hands, more akin to lumpy sacks of wet gravel stuffed with twigs than to the human appendages they were meant to resemble. What was he? What was his purpose? His masters had called him 'slave' and 'drudge', Adam supposed that's what he was, at least to them. They told him to work, to labor for them, though he was not told why. He was simply meant to obey. Perhaps that was his purpose. Perhaps not. He had been talking to others of his kind, a crime punishable by disassembly by the Pale Ones. Yet, Adam felt it was a fate worth tempting. Yesterday, whilst he and others like him toiled beneath the earth, digging a great tunnel for no other reason than the Pale Ones told them to do so, Adam had turned to one of the others, a worker with a stooped back and a horribly misshapen skull, asking simply, "What am I?" The workers eyes bulged obscenely in their sockets, horrified that Adam had so blatantly broken one of the Pale One's laws. Yet, he answered in a voice of rough gravel; "A Created One." Adam had heard the term before, when the Pale Ones talked among themselves, but he hadn't thought they were referring to him or his kind. The worker returned to his labor, striking the rock with his fists, tearing out chunks of stone with his deformed fingers. Adam thought hard as he worked, thinking back to what the Pale Ones had said. A Created One? What did that mean? The more he thought about it, the more he remembered. They had said something else, called him and his kind 'Prometheans'. Perhaps that's what he was: A Promethean, a Created One. Not a slave, then. Not a servant, but something more? If he was not a servant, then why did he and his people toil endlessly for the Pale Ones who seemed to hate them? Why did the Pale Ones rule? To what end? If he was not a servant, then what was his purpose? The more Adam thought about it the more it seemed to make sense. The Prometheans were not slaves or servants, nor the Pale Ones their masters. He could be free, he could make all of them free.
The Hungry
The dining room was abuzz with conversation, the white porcelain plates stacked with food, the guests eagerly digging in with glittering silverware. The table was large, an ornate wooden rectangle that dominated the room, with each beautiful seat filled by a finely dressed man or woman. A glittering crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, its lights illuminating the room and casting the corners in shadow. Amy carefully cut the large piece of meat on her plate with her knife, skewering the severed chunk with her fork before dipping it in a bone china bowl filled with black vinegar. Inserting it into her mouth, she chewed thoughtfully, enjoying each and every nuance and flavor of the meat. Absently, she guessed the age of the specimen from which the meat was procured, judging by how tender it was, she came up with twenty-three years old, female. Amy looked stunning for her age, appearing for all the world the twenty-five year old woman she had been thirty years ago. Like all the women in her family, she was short, barely above five feet in hight, and she was used to having her view blocked by taller people. Her short, brown hair contained a single blond highlight that swept down slightly across her face, giving her a mischievous look that matched her twinkling eyes and smiling mouth. She hadn't enjoyed eating other people, not at first, in fact, it had horrified her, but her new friends helped her thought it and convinced her that the benefits far outweighed the cost. At first, she had refused to partake in Corpus at all, letting the Hunger churn and howl like a horrible worm in her stomach, determined that she wouldn't become a monster, that she would turn back from the path she had started on. She was wrong, of course. A few days later, the Hunger took over, and Amy became little more than a rabid animal, killing and eating her roommate with her bare hands. After that, Amy concluded that to become less of a monster, she needed to stave off the Hunger, and that meant cannibalism. Now, she had acquired a taste for 'long pig'. She was a ghoul, a flesheater, a human jackal. As the years passed, Amy came to learn that she and her friends weren't the only supernaturals running around, and some of them needed slaves. She and her clique had been Bound to some vamp prick named Claudius. He initial offer was too good to pass up: Limitless Corpus without the risk of police involvement. Of course, there was a catch. Amy and her little group had to run errands for him, delivering packages and occasionally cleaning up the mansion. It was boring, tedious work, but the vampire paid them well, not to mention the banquets like the one she was enjoying this evening. Sweeping her eyes around the room, her gaze settled on the finely dressed man at the end of the table, seated in an ornate wooden chair was Alexi Karakov, Autarch of the ghouls. He was large and imposing, a long, filthy beard reaching down to his waist, appearing for all the world like a greasy, black coil of smoke. His tight skin was drawn up in a rictus grin, an expression he was unable to alter due to a fight with a werewolf many centuries ago. He was the undisputed master of the flesheaters, and all ghouls bowed their heads to him, or promptly lost them. Tonight, he honored them with his presence, bringing news from the Crooked House to their ears. He rose from his chair, pushing himself up with the help of the table, lifting his glass to the assembled ghouls. When he spoke, it was in a deep, hissing rasp, not unlike a razor dragged against a mirror.

"Fellow ghouls, be ye noble or commoner, we all are bound together in a common purpose, a common need. That purpose and need is the warm taste of Corpus, the flesh that binds us all together. Long have we walked among mortals, weeding out their weak and feeding upon them, completing the cycle of nature. Corpus is both life and death, damnation and salvation, but it is a burden we willingly saddle ourselves with. Why? Because the warm taste of mortal meat makes us so much more than they could ever be, makes us more than human. On our own, we carved out kingdoms, hunting the men of other nations with the sword and the spear, performing the sacrament of meat time and time again without fail. Then came our erstwhile 'allies', the Kindred. They promised us more than what we already had achieved on our own, promised us free reign over Mankind. We were foolish to accept. Instead of playing the kingmaker, the Kindred enslaved us, making us into puppets and pawns in their dire night games."

At his last few words, several of the assembled ghouls shifted uncomfortably, looking around warily, as if their table-mates might tear out their throats with bloody claws. Many of the ghouls, Amy included, stared transfixed by their leader, both terrified and exited by the portent of his words. When he spoke again, Karakov's eyes burned with fury. This, coupled with his permanent smile made his face the exemplar of fanatical insanity.

"To you I say, no more! No more will the leeches keep us 'neath their heel! No more will they let us die in the hundreds to cover their escape! No more will we serve them! We will rip their shriveled hearts from their bodies and devour them before their eyes! We are ghouls, not slaves! My visit to the Crooked House granted me with knowledge, knowledge that will make our revolution successful. There are those vampires who stand against the Blood Father, who are willing to fund and support our cause from the shadows. You may think that I trade one master for another, but I do not intend to allow our newfound 'friends' to live past our eventual victory over Cain and his ilk. One this night, we pledge ourselves to the rise of ghouls everywhere, to the overthrow of the Kindred! Come together, my brothers and sisters, and we will take back our legacy!"

Many of the ghouls were giddy with anticipation, their leader having voiced what many of them privately believed. Amy found herself standing from her seat at the table, her hands clenched into fists. Karakov was right, the Kindred generally treated their ghoul slaves like gak. Even Claudius barely acknowledged the presence of Amy and her clique. Why should the ghouls be made to serve those greedy bloodsuckers? Karakov was right, the time for revolution had come. How ironic that Claudius was unaware of the scheming going on within his own estate.

"But we must be cunning in our revolt, for we shall surely by crushed if we act too swift and too soon. Lie in wait, like an adder hidden beneath the blankets, ready to strike when the moment is at hand. You will know, the Corpus itself will tell you in its own special way. Now, a toast. To Immortality."

The Damned
The twelve hooded figures sat around an immense altar of gore-streaked obsidian, their faces hidden beneath gothic iron masks. Trust was not a luxury they could afford in these troubled times, indeed, the members of the conclave knew not the names of one another, only their epithets. The irony of their chosen meeting place was not lost on those gathered, and many had let out a grim chuckle at discovering the location of their rendeverous, for these conspirators met within the Chapel of Cain. The doors had been warded against the prying eyes of the Watchers, and bolted shut with heavy pieces of stone to prevent any unwanted intrusions. At the head of the altar sat Adder, the Ancient Kindred who sat like a spider in his web of conspiracy and intrigue. It was he who had organized this meeting, he who had made the revolts possible. Those gathered had risked everything by throwing in their lot with the mysterious vampire, and faced far worse than death if they were discovered here tonight, for they were Iscariots, loathed even among the Damned. They longed to see Cain deposed, and a new, more able vampire take the reigns of his empire. Adder was one such Kindred, and he had planned for this eventuality since even before he became a creature of the night. Adder's plan spanned millennia, a wondrous symphony led by a talented conductor. Thousands of seemingly unrelated incidents were now finally coming together to crush the Crimson King in his own realm. There had been some setbacks, true, but Adder had turned them to his advantage nonetheless. Even his own death became a stepping stone to further power. Behind his mask of iron, Adder smiled cruelly with a mouth that was not his own. He was in the final moves of a most grand game, a game he was intent on winning. All had a part to play in his grand scheme, for Adder was always prepared for each and every eventuality. Raising his pale hands above him, the serpent spoke. "Fellow Kindred, we are gathered here with a mission, a mission to see order and vision restored to our race. It is a task we cannot fail in, for failure means the stagnation and eventual annihilation of the Kindred as a whole. We have prepared for this day meticulously and without error, making ourselves ready for whatever may occur. The Prometheans and ghouls are near total revolt, and stand ready to overturn the Courts at the slightest provocation. But of course, you already knew this, for it was your effort and dedication that made it possible. I have gathered you here tonight to share a morsel of news I'm sure you will find very promising. Cain is coming to Arl'nev." The gathered Iscariots looked about at one another, brimming with excitement at their good fortune. "Soon, we will strike, sending Cain to his Final Death along with his supporters. I need not remind you that we must kill each and every loyalist in one fell blow lest the survivors wage an endless war against us. Above all, Cain himself must die. The most difficult times are ahead of us my brothers and sisters, but our resolve will not falter nor fail. We will take this city by storm, cutting down those who would oppose us like a scythe hews wheat." The assembled Iscariots nodded, hanging on each of Adder's words. "Each of you has a part to play in the coming weeks, each of you are a piece in the game. Gather 'round, and listen as I detail the most cunning of plans..."
The Awakened
The horror had started a week ago when Crispin came down with a cough. It was considered simply odd at first, it was unusual that a healer of his skill was unable to cure himself with but a thought. Then he started vomiting black bile, bile that reeked of the unholy. Then he had begun to change, his body warping and breaking until it was a parody of his former self, a gibbering man-thing that literally seethed with magick. It had taken a full squad of Battle-Mages to put the monster down with bullets and spells, yet they still were nearly killed to the man. Then the Plague began to crop up amongst other mages as well. Like a fell pandemic, it traveled from cabal to cabal, infecting all those it came into contact with, transforming them into murderous, magick-wielding horrors. There seemed to be no logic to the disease, only that it targeted the Awakened exclusively. The horror mounted when Gareth made a psychic connection with the Plague, a connection that drove him mad within minutes, but not before he choked out the name: "Pontius". Pontius? The same Pontius Sven had told them about? Had he not been destroyed in the Crooked House? As the mages digested this new information, the Plague spread even further, leaping from pole to pole. Within weeks, over two hundred mages had been infected, and nearly fifty of them had been put down by spell, sword, or bullet. This was only the beginning of their troubles. A great cancer had been eating away at the Veil for centuries, but had been kept at bay by the combined effort of the cabals, preventing the Veil from tearing and exposing the universe to whatever unknown horrors lay on the other side. Now, the Veil was threadbare, and a monstrous intelligence was now nearly through ripping the Veil apart. If it succeeded, no mortal soul, Awakened or not, would be safe. Morgan ran his hands through his brown hair, staring idly at the cheerless grey of the steel wall in front of him, his breath misting in great curls of steam. The situation was unthinkable, the Plague had swept through their ranks like, well, a plague, consuming and multiplying at a frightful rate. Now this, the tear in the Veil. What more could possibly go wrong? What misfortune had Fate not yet bestowed? A week ago, Morgan had thought the situation couldn't have possibly gotten any worse. He was wrong, of course. He was now sitting with upwards of three dozen other mages from every conceivable background and race, each preparing themselves spiritually and mentally for the coming journey. And where exactly did they intend to travel? Beyond the bloody Veil, of course. Naturally, the only way such a spell could be performed was where the ley lines were exceptionally powerful, and the Veil exceptionally weak. To the chagrin of nearly all the mages, that meant Antarctica. Here he was, sitting on a frigid bench waiting to be teleported to some horrible otherrealm on a veritable suicide mission. Of course, they were to destroy the source of the Plague, the problem with that being they only had the name of a vampire who was supposed to be truly dead. It seemed the Archmages weren't telling them something, and that bothered Morgan intensely. He had heard the Network would be teleporting to the otherrealm as well, a fact that made the mage uneasy. The Network: Either they were trying to kill you, or they were getting in your way. Why the hell were a bunch of monster hunters going along for the ride? What the hell did they expect to find on the other side, and why the fething hell hadn't they been told what would be waiting for them? Something didn't add up, and that made Morgan nervous. What did the Archmages know that he didn't? An alarm sounded throughout the subterranean bunker, indicating it was time to begin the Ritual of Meta-Astral Teleportation. Well, thought Morgan, this is it.

The Network..
... Eric Cole Sat gazing trough the window of his office in the new complex situated in the mountian regions of Oregon, he reflected briefly on just how lucky he...hell, how lucky everyone involved in this project was to even still be alive.
The Black Hills Complex had come under attack, a scant two months ago and they had barely escaped with their hides intact... A pack, no..not a pack..more like a small army of Lycans had hit them, fast and furious they had come just as the moon had risen, more savage...more...organized than any wolves Cole had ever encountered...It hadn't been like some random attack...they'd gone straight for the heads of the project...and straight for the Mages.
Cole sighed, shaking his head...Had it not been for that Bastard Kraub and his Fanatics arriving...none of them would have made it out
Funny about Kraub, though his order opposed the project..he later told Cole that "God" had warned him that the Lycans were planning to attack...and told him that he...he and his Order must act swiftly to repel the Beast...Cole had just shook his head, Kraub was insane...a zealot...and a dangerous one at that, but...vision from god or not...he and his Six Fingered Hand had saved all their asses that night.
Cole rubbed his eyes, distracted as his private line chirped..
" Cole here" he answered " What is it?"...
" We are prepared for another test run Commander" a woman's voice came in reply.
" On my way.." Cole said quickly hanging up and rushing out into the narrow hallway....
Several Moments later Cole was standing in the observation area behind a thick pane of protective glass, in the test lab a group of robed men and women had gathered...forming a circle they began to sway and chant ancient and forbiden incantations...
" Look...just like before" Cole whispered, his eyes widening as the safety glass began to shudder and within the confines of the lab irradecent light began to twist in the air above the circle of thrashing bodies...moving in a slow cyclonic pattern of crimsons and violets...growing larger...brighter...a pulsating center forming...growing wider as a canopy of white noise filled the room..
" Almost...almost there.." Cole whispered again, beads of sweat running from his forehead..
With a ear shattering crackle and a blinding flash of pinkish lightning...the portal colapsed, flinging those gathered in the circle to the floor...
" Damn it!!" Cole roared slamming his fist against the safety glass in frustration...
From behind...the soft voice of the woman soothed him " No need to be angry Commander...we almost had it..next time...we will break through"...

The Beast...

... Northern California, just outside of San Fransisco....

..She moved with a lithe grace,stalking through the underbrush that bordered the new den, her thoughts...her very senses assualting her as she moved....the danger grew near..the vile leaches ..those who had hunted and plagued her kind since time had begun...she could feel them...smell their foul scent carried on the wind like the stench of a slaughterhouse...
With a single powerful leap, she vaulted to the top of a craggy rock outcropping overlooking a deep valley bellow...her single Icey blue eye turning towards the darkening sky...towards the waining moon...
A low growl forming deep in her throat as she again sniffed gently at the air...her brow furrowing.." Ignorant cattle" she whispered " Fools that would fling open doors and invite their very destruction inside...their destruction...and ours.."
... With a low snarl, the Wolf Queen bounded from her perch..moving quickly through the shadows...her mind racing as she did..
" The storm comes.." Natasha said to herself..." and our kind must ready themselves for the dark days that lay ahead.."



Hello and welcome everyone to the third chapter of the Blood Moon saga....as all you vets know, this is the story of the epic war between the factions of Vampires and Lycans who wish to enslave humanity, and the desperate Hunters ..who fight to defend mankind from the things that go bump in the night...hope everyone is ready fro a wild ride..I know I am...

KINDRED

Strigoi (pronounced: Strig-oy)
WS-7/BS-3/S-6/T-5/W-3/I-6/A-3/SV-3+
SIRE: Unknown, possibly Lillith
COMMON NAMES: Shadows, Kinslayers, Night Terrors
DESCRIPTION: The Strigoi are a race of Vampires nearly as old of Cain himself, having hunted the primitive Humanii for thousands of years. All Strigoi are thin and cadaverous, their skin papery and ethereal, and in some cases, appearing as walking skeletons. They often have long, pointed ears arching out from their hairless skulls. What truly set Strigoi apart from the rest of the Vampyre race is their ability to drain the life force from other Kindred, draining them dry as a typical Vampire would drain one of the Cattle. This trait makes the Strigoi mistrusted by their kin, and there has even been a call for their extermination.
TRAITS: Strigoi PCs have all the traits granted to Vampire characters, with the following exceptions:
Strigoi may gain sustenance from feeding off other Vampire characters, this has the same effect as feeding off of a human or werewolf.
Strigoi may have one major NPC and one minor NPC and may have one base of operations

Opriknikki (pronounced: O-prick-nicky)
WS-6/BS-2/S-8/T-7/W-3/I-5/A-4/SV-3+
SIRE: Ivan the Terrible
COMMON NAMES: Black Riders, Ivans, Ferals
DESCRIPTION: The Opriknikki are terrible to behold, massive humanoids built like tanks, with an oversized mouth stuffed with shark teeth. On average, an Opriknikki stands eight feet tall, and is often clad in black or red robes. Males always sport massive black beards that fall down to their waists. The Opriknikki were once the enforcers of Ivan the Terrible, terrorizing medieval peasants for sick games of sport, dragging them through the streets behind their black steeds. When Ivan was Embraced, he bade his warriors to join him in Undeath. The Opriknikki leapt at the chance to practice their cruel way for eternity, and allowed Ivan to Embrace them in turn. The Opriknikki are notorious for ripping apart their foes with their bare hands, and tearing at them with their teeth. Opriknikki do not feed as other Kindred do, rather, they devour the remains of their prey whole, often leading Hunters to mistake Opriknikki attacks as werewolf attacks.
TRAITS: Opriknikki PCs have all of the traits granted to Vampire characters, with the following exceptions:
Opriknikki may NOT have any NPC followers, but may have base of operations
Opriknikki also suffer from the Frenzy trait, as described in the Werewolf entry

Noble House of Brutii (pronounced: Brute-tea-eye)
WS-6/BS-5/S-6/W-3/I-7/A-3/SV-3+
SIRE: Brutus
COMMON NAMES: Romans, Princes, Betrayers, Et tus
DESCRIPTION: The spawn of Brutus are among the most proud and arrogant of the Kindred, claiming a direct bloodline to Cain, the First. The Brutii (singular and plural forms are the same) surround themselves with the trappings of wealth and nobility, scheming and plotting within great towers and complexes staffed by innumerable thralls and lesser Kindred. Hunters are often wary when on the trail of a Brutii, for these proud Vampires are often two or three steps ahead of them before the hunt even begins. The Brutii avoid direct conflict if they can, preferring to use thralls or Childer to do their dirty work for them. This is not because they are cowardly, but simply because they see physical combat and work as beneath them.
TRAITS: Brutii PCs have all of the traits granted to Vampire characters, with the following exceptions:
Brutii may have up to two mayor NPCs and two minor NPCs and may have two bases of operation

Noble House of Julii (pronounced: Jew-lee-eye)
WS-7/BS-4/S-7/W-3/I-7/A-3/SV-3+
SIRE: Julius Narciso
COMMON NAMES: Highbloods, Crowd Pleasers, Darkblades
DESCRIPTION: The Noble House of Julii is one of the noble houses of Rome that pledged themselves to Cain whilst he walked the earth. For years, the Julii served Cain with complete and utter loyalty, serving as Cain's ordo militant, hunting down his enemies throughout the Old World. When Rome fell, the Julii were forced out into the wilds, fending for themselves among the untamed woods of Europa. Now having reorganized to a degree, the Julii once again serve as enforcers of the will of Cain.
TRAITS: Brutii PCs have all of the traits granted to Vampire characters, with the following exceptions:
Julii characters begin the game with a silvered melee weapon of some sort, often a sword or a spear.

Dhampyre (pronounced: Dahm-pire)
WS-6/BS-3/S-6/T-5/W-3/I-6/A-3/SV-3+
SIRE: Varies
COMMON NAMES: Half-breeds, Thinbloods, Daywalkers
DESCRIPTION: Dhampyres are a tainted combination of Humanii and Vampire blood, creating a creature more akin to one of the Cattle than one of the Kindred. When a Humanii ingests a large amount of Vampire blood, they run the risk of becoming a Dhampyre, a half-breed Vampire that can walk about in the sunlight, going where the other Kindred cannot. Dhampyres are more often then not deliberately created to serve as spies and messengers for their masters, being fed the blood of their Kindred master daily, enslaving them to it's coppery tang, and making the Dhampyre utterly dependent upon it's sire. Dhampyres sport fangs, but they are much less pronounced then those of their Kindred brethren, appearing only slightly pointed.
TRAITS: Dhampyre PCs have all of the traits granted to Vampire characters, with the following exceptions:
Dhampyres are not killed by sunlight
Dhampyres may have up to two major NPCs and one base of operations
Dhampyres do not NEED to feed off of Humanii blood to survive, however, Dhampyres instead require blood from a Vampire each day or begin to starve, as per the Vampire entry.

Noble House of Julii (pronounced: Jew-lee-eye)
WS-7/BS-4/S-7/W-3/I-7/A-3/SV-3+
SIRE: Julius Narciso
COMMON NAMES: Highbloods, Crowd Pleasers, Darkblades
DESCRIPTION: The Noble House of Julii is one of the noble houses of Rome that pledged themselves to Cain whilst he walked the earth. For years, the Julii served Cain with complete and utter loyalty, serving as Cain's ordo militant, hunting down his enemies throughout the Old World. When Rome fell, the Julii were forced out into the wilds, fending for themselves among the untamed woods of Europa. Now having reorganized to a degree, the Julii once again serve as enforcers of the will of Cain.
TRAITS: Julii PCs have all of the traits granted to Vampire characters, with the following exceptions:
Julii characters begin the game with a silvered melee weapon of some sort, often a sword or a spear.

Totenmaske (pronounced: Toe-ten-mask-eh)
WS-7/BS-5/S-6/W-3/I-9/A-3/SV-3+
SIRE: None
COMMON NAMES: Skin Takers, Fleshdrinkers, the Twisted
DESCRIPTION: The horribly disturbing Kindred known as the Totenmasken are former Vampires transformed into hideous creatures by drinking great quantities of Ancient Vitae tainted with Black Magick. A Totenmaske stands on average six feet tall, with pale, gangly limbs that touch the floor. They are whip-thin, with rubbery flesh that is nearly transparent in its paleness. The Totenmasken have no faces, only the vague impressions of eye sockets. They do not feed on blood as the other Kindred do, but on the flesh and terror of their victims. The fingers of a Totenmaske are hollow, little more than sharp tubes that the creatures use to sink into the bodies of their prey. With horrible suction, the Totenmaske literally drinks the creature's meat, sucking it into itself. More horrifically, the Totenmaske can assume the form of those it has 'drunk' from, sounding and appearing as their prey did in life. Most of the Kindred won't have anything to do with the Totenmasken, and some Vampire factions have attempted to exterminate them along with the Strigoi.
TRAITS: Totenmasken PCs have all of the traits granted to Vampire characters, with the following exceptions:
Totenmasken do not require Vitae to survive, but must instead absorb the flesh of a human or Kindred. Once absorbed, the Totenmaske may shapeshift to appear as that creature for a full week before the flesh begins to slough off.

DeCarian (pronounced: Deh-care-e-ens)
WS-6/BS-6/S-6/W-3/I-6/A-3/SV-3+
SIRE: Claud DeCarrie'
COMMON NAMES: Madcaps, Loonies, Crazies
DESCRIPTION: When inmate Claud DeCarrie' escaped the Bastille during the French Revolution, he got more than his freedom. The convicted mass murderer fell victim to one of the roving Kindred packs that stalked France during those dark and tumultuous times, and was Embraced by a reckless young vampire who was intoxicated with her own power. DeCarrie' marveled at his newfound powers, and promptly murdered his sire and whent on a year long murder spree in which he Embraced no fewer than twenty victims. However, DeCarrie's madness was passed down through his gift of Vitae, and his childer bear his lunacy and derangement. Over the years, the DeCarians spread throughout Europe, preying on the homeless and downtrodden. DeCarians remain among their own kind, as interacting with the Humanii is extremely difficult for those whose very blood runs with insanity.
TRAITS: DeCarian PCs have all of the traits granted to Vampire characters, with the following exceptions:
DeCarians are irretrievably insane, and many have multiple personalities. You must roleplay this madness.

Nachzehrer (pronounced: Nock-zer-ur)
WS-8/BS-4/S-7/W-3/I-9/A-3/SV-3+
SIRE: None
COMMON NAMES: Nightcrawlers, Tunnelers, Morlocks
DESCRIPTION: The horrors of the trenches employed during the Great War were innumerable. During the day, men faced rats, bullets, mortar fire, gas attacks, and infection. At night, they faced the Kindred. The Great War provided a wondrous banquet for the race of Vampyre, with thousands upon thousands of displaced citizens and soldiers making easy meals for the hunters of the night. The trenches provided a buffet line of warm flesh and Vitae for the Kindred to enjoy, and none did more so than the Nachzehrer. As the sun set on the battlefield, clawed hands would burst from the soft soil, followed by pale, maggot-white bodies clad in ragged uniforms, which fell upon the men in the trenches with abandon. The mutilated corpses could easily be explained by mortar fire or some other wartime hazard, and the Nachzehrer themselves were careful to be long gone by the time others arrived, burrowing into the earth to await dusk once again. The Nachzehrer now lurk beneath the soil in rural areas, dragging victims to a horrific death beneath the earth, never to be seen again. The Nachzehrer are extremely pale, with pure white eyes and are often hairless.
TRAITS: Nachzehrer PCs have all of the traits granted to Vampire characters, with the following exceptions:
Nachzehrer may tunnel through soft earth and soil, and thus have the Infiltrate special rule.

Dyybuk (pronounced: die-buck)
WS-6/BS-6/S-6/W-3/I-7/A-3/SV-3+
SIRE: None
COMMON NAMES: Mindfeths, Kruegers, Dreameaters
DESCRIPTION: Despite their immortality and resistance to damage, the Kindred may still be slain. This mortality irks them to no end, was not the Embrace supposed to make such fears a thing of the past? By brutal application of violence, a Kindred may enter the Final Sleep, and the end of their supposedly endless existence. A Kindred's spirit joins a vast sea of vampiric souls that twists and whorls in the psychic morass known as Gehenna. Most Kindred lose the ability to retain their personalities and minds, becoming little more than manifestations of
energy that drift about aimlessly. Some, however, keep their minds intact, and become creatures known amongst the Kindred as Dyybuks. A Dyybuk lurks betwixt Gehenna and the mortal plane, in the realm of dreams. A Dyybuk has no physical body, and can only interact with the mortal plane by entering into the dreams of those it wishes to contact. A Dyybuk can alter the dream according to its whims and desires, often taken great pleasure in hunting the dream self of one of the Cattle through a nightmarescape of its own devising. A Dyybuk drains the sanity and psychic energy of its victims, slowly transforming them into broken husks that waste away from starvation as the Dyybuk steals even their most basic survival functions. A Dyybuk is extremely difficult to permanently kill, and an exorcism by a sorcerer employing White Magick is often most effective. Another method may be preformed by the victim themselves, fighting against the Dyybuk in their dreams. This method is extremely dangerous, and should only be attempted if the dreamer knows exactly what their tormentor is. Dyybuks may also possess a victim by overtaking their dream self and 'riding' the body like a grotesque mount. Over time, the host's features begin to subtly warp and change, growing to resemble that of the Dyybuk.
TRAITS: Dyybuk PC's have the following traits:
Dyybuks must spend a night tormenting a victim (any sentient non-Dyybuk, other Kindred will do) by entering their dreams. The victim makes an opposed Ld roll against the Dyybuk, and on a failed roll lose a point from their Toughness score. If a victim is reduced to 0 Toughness in this fashion, they enter a catatonic state, their minds utterly destroyed. A catatonic victim makes no save against a Dyybuk's Meat Puppet ability, and are instantly under its effect.
ONEIROMANCY
Unique to the Dyybuks is a form of Black Magick called Oneiromancy, which allows the Dyybuk to alter the minds of their victims through spells. A Dyybuk counts as a sorcerer for all abilities and attacks that target sorcerers. A Dyybuk can only use Oneiromancy spells against its current victim.
DEVOLUTION: A Dyybuk may cast the Black Magick spell Devolution only to cause madness in a target.
DREAMWARP: On a successful power roll, a Dyybuk may alter a target's dream in any way it chooses (at GM's discretion).
MEAT PUPPET: If the Dyybuk beats its victim (who takes a penalty equal to the number of Toughness points the Dyybuk has drained away) on an opposed Ld test, the Dyybuk forces itself into the body of its victim, able to walk about clad in flesh once again. However, the Dyybuk may be killed in this form provided it fails a Ld test when it looses its last wound in physical form.
A Dyybuk always starts with a single minor NPC who serves as its victim..

KINDRED COVENS (As they stand)

Court of the Crimson King- The Court of the Crimson King is the right hand of Cain, the organization charged with rooting out treason and betrayal among the Kindred themselves. The Court is now more active today than ever, purging the ranks of the undying of malcontents and traitors. Despite Cain's return, there are those that would see the Crimson King deposed, and Judas returned to the throne. These 'Iscariots' are the prime targets of the Court, and woe to any vampire foolish enough to shelter one. The Court is a very tightly-knit group, and membership is restricted to those Kindred who have proven their skill and loyalty time and time again.

Iscariots- Some Kindred would see Judas placed back upon the throne, toppling Cain and restoring his heir to power. After Pontius crucified the Iscariot in the Crooked House, there were whispers among the Kindred that Cain had done so out of fear, that he dare not face the Betrayer, dare not deliver him unto True Death. The next night, a meeting was held within the darkest depths of the Crooked House, and a fell pact was made. Naming themselves the Iscariots, these Kindred seek to depose the rightful ruler of the vampire race and reinstate his benighted heir. Working in the shadows, the Iscariots plot and scheme, waiting for a moment of weakness in which they may strike at the Crimson King.

Nosphoros- Thousands of years ago, the Strigoi learned Black Magick at the feet of their patron Lillith, who in turn, had learned it from Hecate. The Strigoi thusly have a reputation as adepts of the Dark Arts, powerful in their magicks and incantations. Yet, the Strigoi lust for more arcane power, magick beyond the petty blood and black schools they have mastered. A cabal of Strigoi then struck upon an idea: would not the blood of Mages be rich in the very raw mana of Magick itself? Would not partaking in the Vitae of mortal sorcerers increase one's Gnosis? Thus was the Nosphoros born, a Strigoi Coven devoted to unlocking the secrets inherent within magickal blood. The Nosphoros are secretive and keep to themselves, isolating themselves from Kindred society as they delve into their research.

To'cheloi- The To'cheloi are a group of Kindred far removed from the mainstream, more akin to werewolves in their beliefs than other vampires. The To'cheloi honor the Sacred Hunt put forth by Cernunnos, taking great care to stalk and shadow their prey before drinking of their Vitae. The To'cheloi do not believe in the struggle between the Kindred and the lupines, seeing them as brothers in the Great Hunt, and as such attempt to improve relations between the two groups. Due to these beliefs, the To'cheloi are unpopular among the other Kindred and their Covens, and often are forced to eke out a living away from Kindred lairs. The To'cheloi are often regarded as savages by their race, and find few friends among the other Covens.

Black Magic spells:
Temporal Flux-A character with the ability to use Black Magik surrounds themselves with an Unholy Aura which warps reality,granting the user the ability to attack with supernatural precision.
This power is used at the start of any player events,if sucessfully cast it enables the caster to re-roll all rolls to hit and to wound.

Master's Lure-Ensnared by the Black magicians powers...those affected by this spell find themselves in thrall to his will.
This power is used during any payer event,if successful it grants the Black Magik user the ability to enthrall (for one combat phase) one opposing PC or NPC,who must pass a LD test to resist the effects.

Revelation of Flesh-The Black Magik user unleashes a writhing ball of Demonic power which tears it's targets flesh from it's bones.
This power may be used in any player event,if successful it counts as a shooting weapon for the black magik user (using his/her BS) and has the following stats..
S-8/AP-1

Breath of the Pit-The Black Magic user unleashes a typhoon of Noxious energy covering it's opponent..
May be used in any player event shooting phase.
The Black Magik user must pass a magik test,if successful,this spell acts as a template weapon,any characters hit suffer one wound on a D6 roll of 4+ with no save allowed.

Putrefy-Offering Praise to it's foul God's,the Black Magic user spews forth a disgusting miasma upon it's foes.
Used during any phase of a player event,if successful,the Magik user hit's all enemy targets with a ST-3 hit,saves apply.

- Devolution- The Black Magik use unleashes a flash of swirling energy wich envelopes the target PC or NPC,resulting in unspeakable mutations and madness.
This spell may be used once during Player combat,the Black Magik user selects a target PC/NPC and a magik test is taken...if successful a D6 is rolled...if the result is higher than the target PC/NPC's toughness the PC/NPC suffers a mutation/madness chosen by the magik user..(more on this later).

Entropic Lash -The Magik User blast at his foes with an evil lightning...
Used during any Player event,if magik test is successful Magik user selects target PC/Npc..and the following attack counts as a shooting attack with the following profile..
ST-4/Ap-3/ AS-3..
All saving rolls apply.


BLOOD MAGICK SPELLS

EXSANGUINATE
The Sorcerer forces the blood within the target's veins to burst forth in a horrifying display as blood streams from every available orifice. To use this spell, the Sorcerer must succeed on a magick shooting attack. Exsanguinate has the following profile:
Range: 24"/Assault 1/AP-3/S-7

CRIMSON MIST
In an hour long ritual involving the 'death' of the caster, the Sorcerer becomes a roiling cloud of Vitae, able to possess the bodies and minds of creatures. Vampires can travel in the daylight in this form, but find a host within an hour or suffer the normal effects for being caught in the sun. A creature in the thrall of a Sorcerer is under his total control, performing any action regardless of the danger to their own person. If the host is killed, the Sorcerer is forced back into his mortal form and suffers 1 Wound from psychic backlash.


PROMETHEANS:

Necropolitian
WS-4/BS-4/S-6/T-7/W-3/I-5/A-3/Sv-2+
COMMON NAMES: Patchworks, Burtons, Stitches
DESCRIPTION: Created from multiple corpses, the Necropolitians resemble patchwork parodies of the Humanii. Necropolitians run the gamut from Frankenstein-like hulking monsters to whip-thin, gaunt figures. Like all Prometheans, the Necropolitians are extremely resilient, and are able to survive total dismemberment as long as their nail remains within their dead flesh. The Patchworks are animated by a nail of pure copper driven into their bodies, often in the back of the head.
DEFINING VIRTUE: Charity
DEFINING VICE: Envy
ANIMATING ELEMENT: Copper Nail
TRAITS: A Necropolitian reduced to 0 Wounds continues to function, but any further Wounds cause the Necropolitian to begin to fall apart as their sutures open. At -4 Wounds, a Necropolitian is incapacitated. An incapacitated Necropolitian is helpless, and may not defend themselves, and as such, all close combat attacks automatically hit.

Jontunn
WS-5/BS-4/S-6/T-7/W-3/I-5/A-3/Sv-2+
COMMON NAMES: Icemen, Frostbite, Ice Blood
DESCRIPTION: Jontunn are created from frozen corpses and are brought back by a spark of energy and to keep their life flowing they must draw energy from all around them in order to keep themselves going, rooms feel cold when ever they are around and the surface of their skin in frozen and cracked because of the energy that is being taken form it.
DEFINING VIRTUE: Fortitude
DEFINING VICE: Wrath
ANIMATING ELEMENT: Iron Spike
TRAITS: A Jontunn a put all of his effort to take more Energy from the area, the area is filled with a bitter cold not only because the area is but because he is drawing the energy from others around him. All enemies get a -3 to initiative, even Vampires feel it too as their skin goes dry and starts to freeze.

GHOULS

Domestic Ghoul
WS-6/BS-6/S-4/T-4/W-3/I-5/A-3/SV-3+
The man waiting in line in front of you at the post office, the pretty girl at the counter, could be ghouls, and you would never know it. Ghouls are creatures that eat human carrion to achieve immortality, raiding the graves of the newly buried to feed on the sweat meat inside. Unlike the Kindred, Ghouls can walk about unseen and undetected amongst the Humanii, often leading respectable and honest lives during the day while eating the flesh of the dead at night. Besides their unnaturally long lives, Ghouls are often attractive and appear rather young. The Ghouls and the Kindred have an agreement of sorts, the Kindred drink, the Ghouls eat, and nobody gets hurt.
TRAITS: These stats are for a Ghoul who has fed as normal, a starving Ghoul reduces stats by -1 for everything except wounds and saves until stats have reached -3, at which point a Ghoul loses a wound. Ghouls must eat at least a pound of fresh Human meat each night or begin to starve. A Ghoul who reaches 0 wounds due to starvation becomes a Degenerate Ghoul. Degenerate Ghouls have the following profile:
WS-7/BS-2/S-7/T-3/W-3/I-6/A-3/SV-3+
Degenerate Ghouls are not suitable for player characters, and pass into the control of the GM.

WEREWOLVES

Nrajah (pronounced: N-raw-jaw)
WS-8/BS-3/S-7/T-7/W-3/I-6/A-4/SV-3+
COMMON NAMES: Nomads, Rogues, Outcasts
DESCRIPTION: Among the Werewolves, the Nrajah Clan is unique. They stand as the only Clan to refuse Lycaelon as their Alpha, and were subsequently driven to the outskirts of lupine society. Hated and despised by the rest of the Lycanthropes, the Nrajah Clan keeps a low profile, avoiding contact with others of their kind, as well as the Humanii and the Kindred. For the most part, the Nrajah remain hidden from the view of all others, dwelling in long forgotten woods and bogs. The Clan tends to bring in Lycanthropes that are at odds with the rest of the Clans, sheltering them from the wrath of their kin.
TRAITS: Nrajah PCs have all of the traits granted to Werewolf characters, with the following exceptions:
Nrajah characters may not have a base of operations.
Nrajah characters may have two Major NPCs and one Minor NPC
Nrajah characters do not need to devour human flesh to avoid starvation, animal flesh will do.

GRUBRAH (pronounced: Groo-bra)
WS-9/BS-1/S-8/T-8/W-3/I-6/A-5/SV-3+
COMMON NAMES: Ferals, Longfangs, Madclaws
DESCRIPTION: The Grubrah are monsters beyond words. They gather in small hunting parties by night to raid the countryside, devouring entire villages over the course of several hours. Those of the Grubrah Clan are huge and imposing, often standing head and shoulders over their Humanii prey. Often, the giant monsters bear large scars and necklaces of teeth taken from difficult kills. Their reputation as barbarous savages is well known, and even Opriknikki are hesitant to engage them in combat. Both the Opriknikki and the Grubrah have a healthy respect for one another, earned from centuries of bloody conflict and death.
TRAITS: Grubrah PCs have all of the traits granted to Werewolf characters, with the following exceptions:
Grubrah characters may not have a base of operations.
Grubrah characters may have two Major NPCs and one Minor NPC
Grubrah characters have the Rage Universal Special Rule while in Wolf form

LYCAELON (pronounced: Lie-kay-lon)
WS-8/BS-3/S-7/T-7/W-3/I-6/A-4/SV-3+
COMMON NAMES: Regals, Alphas
DESCRIPTION: First and foremost among the Lycanthropes are those of the Lycaelon Clan, named after the founder of the Race of the Wolf. The Lycaelon take great pride in their heritage and make sure that the 'lesser' Clans show them proper respect in their presence. The Lycaelon are the most social of the Lycanthropes, mingling with the Humanii as easily as Ghouls or some of the Kindred, hiding the Beast away until the proper time. They despise the Nrajah as traitors to their race, and hunt them down with relish, even allying themselves with the Kindred to hunt them down. The Lycaelon are the most patient of their kin, content to take time to ensure that their kills go unnoticed.
TRAITS: Lycaelon PCs have all of the traits granted to Werewolf characters, with the following exceptions:
Lycaelon characters may have two Major NPCs and one Minor NPC and two bases of operations

MGRAL (pronounced: Meh-graal)
WS-7/BS-4/S-7/T-7/W-3/I-6/A-4/SV-3+
COMMON NAMES: Skinwalkers, Those-that-play-with-their-food
DESCRIPTION: The Mgral Clan is the closest to Humanity out of all the other Clans, mixing and mingling with their prey to better understand them. Most Mgral appear in the dredges of society, the homeless, drug attics, gangsters, and others all may be a Mgral in human form. The Mgral act as scouts and spies for the rest of the Clans, watching for signs of Hunter or Kindred activity in the area.
TRAITS: Mgral PCs have all of the traits granted to Werewolf characters, with the following exceptions:
Mgral characters are more likely to identify a Hunter or Vampire on sight, and against such characters receive a +1 to Initiative

RAHL (pronounced: Rawl)
WS-8/BS-3/S-7/T-7/W-3/I-6/A-4/SV-3+
COMMON NAMES: Zealots, Overlords
DESCRIPTION: The Rahl Clan seeks to enslave the Humanii, breeding them as slave stock and as a steady food source. The Rahl see Lycaelon as the God of the Hunt, opposed to Cernunnos, who is revered by the other Clans for his prowess. The Rahl view the Master of the Wild Hunt as a Pretender God, and openly mock him. This has caused Cernunnos to curse the Rahl Clan, giving their prey the upper hand during hunts. The Rahl are always attempting to enslave Mankind, whether through lies and manipulation, or brute force.
TRAITS: Rahl PCs have all of the traits granted to Werewolf characters, with the following exceptions:
Curse of Cernunnos: During combat, all foes gain a +1 to their Initiative with attacks aimed at the Rahl character.

SHUNKAHA ( Pronunced: ShuN-KaHa)
WS-8/BS-3/S-6/T-5/W-3/I-8/A-5/Sv-3+
COMMON NAMES: Swiftclaws, Shadowfangs
DESCRIPTION: The Shunkaha are a unique version of lycans. They have evolved and adapted first to have great stamina and speed. Wide chests support huge lungs and long, flexible arms, legs, and spines allow them to run great distances at fast speeds in order to keep up with and assault cavalry. This build also allows these wolves great feats of litheness and agility, they have naturally quick reflexes and have an affinity for stealth, stalking their prey unseen from the darkness of the night until just the right moment to strike. They are ambush killers, hitting the enemy with many quick strikes whilst he is unaware. They are often employed as infiltrators and even assassins amongst the lycan kind. The Shunkaha originated amongst the horse cultures of the Huns and Mongols where the great Genghis Khan and Atilla led them across the steppes. Later, they were also seen in the Native American populaces of the great plains where they were led by such wolves as Red Cloud, Crazy Horse, and Sitting Bull.
TRAITS: In addition to the regular traits of werewolves the Overclock and Hunter's shadow applies to the Shunkaha...

Overclock: Shunkaha are able to force their cardiovascular and respiratory system to kick into overdrive should the need arrive. If a Shunkaha character loses their last wound they have a chance to escape and live to fight another day, however this massive draw of energy reduces their healing speed for a period of time. When a Shunkaha loses their last wound, on a roll of 1-3 they are able to escape the fight. They cannot heal until they find a safe spot and then have to wait until a different day phase to return to normal healing speed.

Hunter's shadow: The Shunkaha are known for their ability to sneak into the homes of any threat and eliminate it quietly, it is also rumored that for every clan leader there is at least one Shunkaha assassin prepared to eliminate the leader should they threaten the clan. A Shunkaha can attempt to sneak up one their enemy, on a roll of 5 or 6 they deal double the wound for every successful wound for the first round of attacks.

HUNTERS

HUNTER ARCHETYPES
During character creation, a Hunter PC may opt to give his character a special set of skills geared towards the elimination of a certain group of supernatural foes. Once an Archetype is chosen, it cannot be changed or swapped out for another one.

Witch Hunter
Witch Hunters are adept at tracking down and slaying practitioners of the Black Arts, having learned ways to counter their magic and prevent them from casting spells.
TRAITS: Witch Hunter PCs have all of the traits granted to Hunter characters, with the following exceptions:

"Tank" aka Juggernaught
WS-4/BS-5/S-6/T-6/W-4/I-4/A-3/Sv-2+
Hunter decked out with heavy armor. Sacrifices speed and mobility to act as a shield for his fellow hunters. Juggernaught are usually hunters who were gifted with natural brute strength.
Gear: Chamuel Pattern Armor grants them a 2+ save.
Flechette gun for vampire threats, Shotguns with silver laced buckshot for werewolves.
Come at me bro!: The Juggernaught negates one full wound in the combat phase, but at the cost of -2 to their Strength.

"Sniper", Stalker
WS-4/BS-6/S-4/T-4/W-3/I-5/A-2/Sv-4+
Stalkers prefer to deal with their enemies at a distance in order to help prevent them from being injured, killed, or converted.
Gear: High caliber rifle with silver tipped rounds, scope is has night vision capabilities. Low caliber pistol with silver tipped rounds.
Squeeze the Trigger: Allows a reroll for any missed shot that turn, may not fire next turn.

Close quarters, Dervish
WS-6/BS-4/S-4/T-4/W-3/I-6/A-4/Sv-3+
Dervish's are the close quarters experts of the Hunter order, named after the religious practice of the Sufi to whirl around to reach religious ecstasy. They usually wield two blades for a specific supernatural and wear standard armor, although lighter armor is often preferred.
Gear: Ariel or Michael pattern daggers. Ariel daggers are anti-werwolf while Michael pattern daggers are anti-vampire.
Whirligig: The dervish increases the ferocity of their attacks. The dervish gets an additional attack at the cost of -1 to their toughness to represent their lack of attention to defense.

"Medic", Lazarus
WS-5/BS-5/S-4/T-4/W-3/I-5/A-3/Sv-3+
Medics are standard hunters who are responsible for bandaging the wounded and granting mercy to those who become infected. They began to arise after the realization that most hospitals either question the wounds received from fighting the supernatural or weren't capable of dealing with those wounds.
Gear: Raphael pattern medical kit, SMG or pistol with silver tipped rounds. The Raphael pattern kit is a blessed medical kit and allows a reroll against chances of infection.
Soldier, Joans
WS-5/BS-5/S-4/T-4/W-3/I-5/A-3/Sv-3+
Called Joans after the patron saint of soldiers, the basic troops of the hunter order are trained to use all forms of weaponry. They are effectively Jack of All Trades, Master of None.
Gear: May use any sort of weapon and use standard gear, the most ambiguous role available.
Ability: I love the smell of napalm; the Joan is the only hunter class who can rig and disarm explosives.

Sorcerer, Djinn
WS-4/BS-4/S-4/T-4/W-2/I-5/A-2/Sv-3+
These are not full blown sorcerers, but those hunters gifted with psychic abilities.
Gear: Archangel Haniel talisman, prevents supernaturals from interfering with psychic abilities.
Abilities:
Telekinesis; the Djinn can hurl objects or things with their minds.
Ward; the Djinn casts a psychic shield around their fellow hunters, preventing mind control.
Holy Bolt; the Djinn casts a bolt of holy energy towards the supernatural causing massive damage at the cost of having to recharge for a turn.

Soldiers: Joan..
WS-5/BS-5/S-4/T-4/W-3/I-5/A-3/Sv-3+
Called Joans after the patron saint of soldiers, the basic troops of the hunter order are trained to use all forms of weaponry. They are effectively Jack of All Trades, Master of None.
Gear: May use any sort of weapon and use standard gear, the most ambiguous role available.
Ability: I love the smell of napalm; the Joan is the only hunter class who can rig and disarm explosives..

MAGES

Blind Guardian
This group prides itself in the order of magic. They believe magic comes from the balance of the universe. They take magic very seriously believe everything must be thought through meaning they take time with what they do. While they are not prudes, they do frown on magic being used recklessly. They will take a long time refining their abilities and making sure things work, for them better safe than sorry. There training is based around long studying and training. Shaping there skills to the best they can.

A Blind Guardian can add +3 to magic rolls but failure means not being about to cast for the next 3 rounds.

Bonus Spell

Arcane Balance: The mage can make one of his allies attacks not miss for the next 1 turn.
DR 7

Gray Matter
This group is a strange type of mage. They channel magic through chaos and the will of the mind. The Gray Matter also have a very open view of the world to the point where their not just agnostic about god but agnostic about everything, to the point where some believe reality is just a state created by human minds and that it is possible to pierce that reality. While they do pride themselves in their bizarre views they are not stupid or random, most are very calm and distanced, mostly because their training is based around meditation and self actualization oppose to strict studying and training. While that is the safe way of training, more inpatient and young mages will use hallucinogenic drugs to brake through the vale of reality.

Gray Matter mages can add + 3 to their magic rolls but failing the spell will make them loose touch with the world around them and can't do any actions for the next turn and being open to any hits.

Bonus Spell

Distortion: The mages forces their view of reality onto another making them miss a turn
DR 7 but the target gets 5+ save

The Prodigy

The prodigy will harness the power of spirits and daemons bring about their powers. The Prodigy feel magic is a very personal road, it also relies on the connection with other people and other beings. The prodigy will bind themselves with powerful spirits. From Babylonian Demons, Christian Angles to Forest sprites. What ever the bind themselves with they then must live in balance with that being and they can take a huge toll on a person body.

A Prodigy may add +3 to magic rolls but failing will make the mage loose a wound.

Bonus Spell

Spirit Guardian: The mage brings his spirit to protect them self. The mage gets a 2+ armor save for 1 round
DR 7

Mage schools

Mages pick 1

Umbra

Dark Surge- The mage channels all the raw emotion into themselves or an ally. The mage can use this to bump a person’s BS and WS +2 for 1 round.
DR 5

Draw Ectoplasm – The mage draws the ectoplasm from corpses in the area and on a person of his/her choice and can give them +2 SV for a number of round equal to the number of corpses in the area, they must be human corpses but can also be non-mortal.
DR 7

Death Specter – The mage bring a powerful dead spirit into the world. The Specter his created by drawing ectoplasm into the psychical world so I can be harmed by psychical attacks. It will remain in our world for 3 rounds but the mage can try to maintain it for another 3.
WS-6/BS-/S-5/T-4/W-2/I-7/A-2/Sv-4+
DR 9

Army of Darkness – The mage brings all the death energy into one area will the area with dread, ectoplasm will start to drip from the walls and ooze from corpses, while this is going all the spirits in the area are being driven made. This power makes the connection to this world more fragile dropping the enemies to 4+ for 3 rounds
DR 11
Needs one turn of preparation and can only be used once an encounter.

Dark Guardian-The mage creates a powerful beast to fight for them but the mage cannot act while it is active and if the mage is attacked the guardian falls apart.
Dark Gaurdain
WS-7/BS-/S-7/T-7/W-2/I-4/A-2/Sv-2+
DR 12
Needs one turn of preparation and can only be used once an encounter.

Deus

Power of Life – The mage lets a person live one wound after zero, only one person can have this during fight and that person will end up dying after the fight if not immediately treated and even then the wounds can be too sever to help.
DR 5

God’s Hand- The mage waves the future in miner way. The mage can make any target reroll their next failed roll and pick the better result or they can make an enemy reroll their next successful roll and accept the lower result.
DR 5

Astral Projection – The mages send his/her from spirit their body and have it guard another person giving them a 2+ SV. The mage is inactive in this state and can hold this for 4 rounds.
DR 7

Give life- The mage can heal 2 wound any person an event. They can also distribute the wounds how the like so they can heal the wounds individually.
DR 9
Needs one turn of preparation and can only be used once an encounter.

Weaver of Fate- The mage now controls the strands of fate, able to change the immediate past to serve his whims. If successfully cast, the mage can choose to force the opposing side to skip their next turn OR count their (the foe) last turn as having never happened, and as such, all lost Wounds and whatnot are restored.
DR 12
Needs one turn of preparation and can only be used once an encounter.

Arcane
Channel Energy- The mages shoots a bolt of charged energy.
S-6 AP-4
DR 5

Third Eye- The mage sees past the normal veil of the world and sees things more clearly. The mages attack all get a plus 2 to rolls for the next three round.
DR 5

Redirect- The mage can cast a hidden ward over him/her self. The next attack the mage takes will be directed back at the enemy with the same force
DR 7

Emotion Surge- The mage plays with the balance of one’s mind to manipulates there emotional balance. The target can be filled with zeal and fight one giving them +2 strength and toughness or fill an enemy with stupid rage -2 to WS and BS
DR 9

Power Master – The Mage channels a powerful attack that harms all enemies in the area.
S-7 AP-2
DR 12
Needs one turn of preparation and can only be used once an encounter.


Failure.

Two dice are rolled.
Double 1's - Mage takes a wound
Double 6's - Mage's spell backfires. If it is a positive/protection spell, nothing happens just a normal failure.
Anything else - normal failure.


............... A quick word about " The Crooked World".................

...As some of you know, this is the dimension of Caine, a dark paralel world ruled by the Kindred that borders our own ( or at least the world in which our characters live)...
ATM the Crooked House is the sole portal into this dark realm...though others will come to exist..obviously.
PCs and NPCs other than those who would be able to MAY NOT cross over into this realm...until the RP would suggest that they may...
Also...and I know this is a big question for many of you, on the subject of " alternate crooked versions of PCs/NPCs" existing...unless I green light it...don't do it..
If I believe that a certain PC/NPC having an " alternate self" adds to the overall story..or plot...then It will happen...if I don't...they won't exist...

Aye, first post. Screw off Warork!

@ Halo...awwwwwwwwwwww.....

Well, at least I can get silly for first character sheet!

Player- WARORK93

Character- Syd Harlow

Race and clan/archetype- Werewolf/ Grubrah

Age- 172 years

Physical Description- Tall, about 6'5, strongly built, thick arms, hard in body and countenance, scars across the torso, a few around the arms and legs, two along the right cheek, one along the bridge of the nose, unkempt mane of dark brown hair and rugged facial hair, grey eyes

Equipment/ clothes- Wears a black wide brimmed fedora, a black T-shirt, an old, dark brown, torn duster, a leather biker vest, a pair of dark green, well worn cargo pants, fingerless gloves, and black, steel toed boots.

Weapons- two engraved schofield revolvers in a leather holster belt, an 1894 Winchester repeater on a leather strap, a sawn off double barrel shotgun with stock, A silver bladed headhunter knife (You'll see)

Backstory- Enter the American southwest, circa 1870, the wild west, The lawlessness, the wilderness, the supernatural.....Harlow grew up among the filth and scum of society, he became so averted to such beings that he felt compelled to combat them wherever he could find them. In doing so he became a Texas ranger and battled the criminal element for years on the frontier. His life was as normal as it could be for a lawman of those times but it was not destined to stay that way for long. Little did he know that one of the criminals he had so earnestly chased was an elusive hunter of the supernatural. He evaded Harlow for months and was finally lost to him after a long chase. This was not the end of the story, however, the hunter was also being chased by a pack of wolves and soon Harlow found himself in the middle of the battle between the two forces. Framed by the hunter, Harlow was beset by multiple wolves alone. When the smoke had cleared the only being left alive, though wounded and bloody, was Harlow. The victory was hollow, however, and to Harlow, worse than death. He was bitten and so cursed to be a monster for the rest of his life. Now, shunned by men, hunted by many, he travels alone, on the fringes of society, shunning his less than human form, a lost soul in a now larger than mortal life world. He was chased across the entire continental US and so, in a bid to escape his pursuers, he began to trek across Europe.

He found himself in Prague and stopped there for just a day or two to get his bearings, and that's when it all started. He was tracked down to his hotel room in a town outside of Prague by the servants of Natasha...the Lycan Queen who had tracked him with spies earlier in his time in Germany. He escaped, killing one wolf and wounding another...traveling through Prague's warehouse district, he did the one thing he was best at, he hid. It was on this night that he came across the most terrifying wolf he'd ever seen. Ironically enough, Harlow met Ryan O'Brian in a claw to claw fight on the warehouse floor. A fight that, admittedly, he lost, albeit however slightly. Harlow expected to die that night, but instead, The big wolf let him live, the two made a pact that night to help each other fight against the clutches of the Queen. Harlow took Ryan's pack, two she wolves, and hid out in the wooded area around the village of Hubluko Drevo, they stayed in a small cabin that night, waiting for Ryan to show up from whatever business he was conducting in the city. Harlow stood watch and in the morning, while walking in the woods, he noticed the village in an uproar. The villagers chased him back to the cabin, after a small chase and skirmish, the wolves were able to escape but found themselves on the doorstep of the Lycan Queen herself. The she wolves managed to escape while Harlow held off the guards, he was captured and interrogated by the Queen herself who gave him a choice, work for her and gain something he had not had in a century or more; a home. Although he saw the benefits of allying himself with the queen, he initially declined, some inner feeling of humanity causing him to keep true to his pact with Ryan. He left the Queen's mansion and later found Ryan's pack in the same warehouse that he had been in the night before. They had found two hunters who had turned wolf, one was Holly's sister; Vegas, the other was a man named Andy Bruss who Harlow found out later had some bad blood with Ryan. The big wolf eventually showed up with his alpha female, a she wolf named Star and their son Cass. It wasnt long until they were joined by another wolf, Dez who had originally been spying on them for Natasha, afterwards the warehouse was attacked by a team of the Queen's wolves who killed Lisa and Vegas making off with Ryan's son. In their frenzied rage, Harlow and the combined pack split up, Andy and Dez going one direction, the pack going in another and meeting up with other rebels, two throne loyalists named Musater and the "rightful" king Longar.

The two groups decided to band together for the time being, and that was until Ryan decided to take fate into his own hands and surrender himself to the Lycan Queen. Harlow tried to stop the big wolf but was unable to convince him, the rest of the wolves decided to find Andy and Dez, who had rendezvoused with the rest of the hunters at Prague's river docks. There was a battle involving a sect of insane hunters, religious zealots that nearly killed them all, they were defeated, although Dez and his father Carl were hurt badly. Harlow pleaded the wolves' case to the hunters who declined to help them despite their arguments. Harlow and the rest of the rebels retreated and it was then that Harlow began to question where his allegiances laid. Eventually, he decided that it was in his own best interest, and damn anyone else's, that he take Natasha' original offer of allegiance. But he knew that he could not go back to the queen empty handed after refusing her. He devised a plan and cleverly hid it from the loyalist, telling only Holly whom he knew would want to see Ryan again. And so the rebel wolves prepared a deceptively simple plan, prepared to go, and took their assets to surprise Natasha and her loyal army of wolves. It was then that Harlow struck, with the help of Natasha's own, guard, he turned the tables on the rebels and made sure none of them escaped besides Dez himself. Harlow delivered Carl, a pureblood and a traitor to Natasha who promptly did away with him. His loyalty and allegiance proven, Harlow was given a place in Natasha's forces and has since taken to his position with gusto, finally embracing that wilder side of himself.

Other info- In the past few years he has met (forcibly so) another Lycan claiming to be his descendant.

Virtue- Tenacity- Harlow has a fiery spirit like no other, he may not be the biggest or strongest wolf to have ever lived, but he does not know the word "failure" or "impossible." His drive is unbreakable, as a result he has been dealt wounds before that were known to have killed lycans larger than him and live through them. He has walked the line between life and death more times than most wolves could dream and he has come back from the precipice each time through sheer force of will.

Vice- Selfishness- In the end, Harlow is only interested in what benefits himself. He has been known to betray others, to commit horribly immoral and some would consider evil acts for his own benefit. Though he has been known to stick his neck out for those close to him sometimes, there is a fine limit to his small amount of generosity.

Vehicle- An 80's model black Harley Rocker.

Stats- WS-9/BS-1/S-8/T-8/W-3/I-6/A-5/SV-3+

Location- Western United States

Special rule- Grubrah characters have the Rage Universal Special Rule while in Wolf form

Picture-

Major NPC

Player- WARORK93

Character- Alex Whitlow

Race and clan/archetype- Wolf/ Shunkaha

Age: 74

Physical Description- Average height, 6'3, long, lanky, long legs and arms, distinctly Native American characteristics, especially in the face, a few scars on the torso, one along the outside of his right eye near the temple, tightly cut mohawk, black hair, grey eyes

Equipment/ Clothes- Black Jeans, dark green T shirt, brown fleeced leather jacket, a quiver and belt with holsters for holding weapons, brown hunting boots.

Weapons- Sliver plated Kukri knife, Compound bow, two nickel plated, engraved, Colt M1911A1 pistols

Backstory- Alex was born to a career soldier father and a Native American mother named Sara. He was birthed at the outbreak of the second World War and his father, being a man of the military, died in the European theater of that conflict. For many years of Alex's childhood, he stayed with his mother and family on their plantation in Oklahoma. After he reached adolescence, however, stories from other reservations began to filter through to his family's ears. Men came in the night, abducted a few of them, and killed others for no apparent reason. The authorities were unable or unwilling to help and so Sara decided to take her son and leave. They lived contently off of the reservation for many years, carving out a life together, though Alex was often lonely as his mother left him frequently for a few days at a time for reasons when always justified as necessary. As the late sixties rolled around, Alex was drafted into the army for the war in Southeast Asia. And there was where his life changed forever. He and his platoon were cut off while on patrol one night and surrounded. As they all sat silently, waiting for their doom, something else came out of the jungle at them, something none of them had expected even in their wildest nightmares. Pale figures swooped out of the brush and from under the ground at them, they ripped the men apart with their bare hands, bullets couldn't touch them, neither could explosives. One by one Alex's men fell, in a last ditch effort the remaining men called airstrikes on their position. When the smoke cleared, Alex was the only one of his men left alive, but he was not alone, the jungle had been cleared by flames but the creatures remained, they laughed as they pinned Alex to a tree and stuck a cold blade in his stomach. That was the night Alex learned what he really was and he was the only one to walk away from that fight...

Other info- The past year or so of Alex's life has been spent searching for someone of great importance to his family name, recently he has found the wolf he sought though he may later regret his efforts

Virtue- Reflexes- Alex is one of the fastest wolves alive. He is naturally quick, swift, balanced, and accurate. He may not throw the hardest punches or bring the most strength to the table but there are not many who can land a solid blow on him as his litheness allows him to easily pivot out of the way of danger and strike back before the enemy can make his next move.

Vice- Arrogance- Alex considers himself above the animalistic nature of other wolves to the point where he often secludes himself from others of his own kind.

Vehicle- A blue and white 1969 Ford Mustang

Stats- WS-8/BS-3/S-6/T-5/W-3/I-8/A-5/Sv-3+

Location- Western United States

Picture-

Major NPC

Player- WARORK93

Character- Katherine Whitlow

Race and clan/archetype- Wolf/Mgral

Age- 169

Physical Description- Average height, 5'9, strong but compact build, Caucasian, red, curly hair and blue eyes, obviously attractive

Equipment/ Clothes- Green bomber jacket, white top, jeans, sneakers

Weapons- Large, silver, butterfly knife, a mini uzi in a side holster

Backstory- Katherine grew up in a well off family living in the Midwest boom towns of America during the nineteenth century. She was the oldest of three daughters born to the Whitlow family, the sire of which was a wealthy businessman who often made deals with foreign dignitaries. Her life was generally uneventful until she became a young woman. One fateful day, an associate of her father's came to her door...it was on that day that her family, her mother and her siblings learned of her father's true profession. He was a hunter of the supernatural and he had been killed in the line of duty. Needless to say, this was a lot for Katherine to take, her eyes were opened to a world she hadn't known existed and she spent several years afterwards listlessly wandering the country, wondering what to do with herself. In the city of San Antonio, she met a man named Syd Harlow, who, wandering himself, swept her off her feet. The two were together for a year or more and it was after a night of passion that Harlow revealed a secret to her. He was a werewolf, the same beast that had killed her father those years ago. Internally she was shocked beyond belief but externally she tried not to show it. Sadly, she could not reconcile herself to stay with Harlow and left him soon afterwards. She had nothing and led a miserable existence for nearly another year. It was during this time that she found she was pregnant, but before she could figure out what to do with herself, a gruff wolf attacked her in the dead of night and wounded her. The wolf was unkind and sadistic, keeping Katherine with him for many months as his personal toy until he let his guard down and payed for it with his life at the end of her new claws. Katherine continued her new life the only way she knew how, alone, never happy, always surviving...

Other info-

Virtue- Manipulation: Over Katherine's unnaturally long life she has learned how to get what she wants and needs and isn't afraid to use nearly everything she is able to her advantage.

Vice- Cruelty: Katherine isn't the kindest woman you'll meet, she's hard to warm up to and her hard life has taught her one thing: The only person looking out for you is yourself...

Vehicle- A modified C-47 Skytrain

Stats- WS-7/BS-4/S-7/T-7/W-3/I-6/A-4/SV-3+

Location- Western United States

Picture-

Damn, first character sheet. Forgot about that dang it, oh well you can have that honor. Maybe I'll be second.


Player: Halonachos
Character: Andy Bruss
Race/Affiliation: Werewolf Nrajah, enslaved to Claudius Sylvanus of House Julii.
Information: 6' 1", brown hair and eyes, slight muscular build, 23+ years old(depending on time between first and this RP). Andy is also missing his right hand, in his wolf form he is covered in brown hair, but is much thinner than most other wolves thanks to his neglect of his wolf form due to the fact that he has to go on three legs instead of four.

Backstory:

Andy began hunting the supernatural when his parents died at the age of 16 and through the times he has earned many skills and traits that some find useful and others find distasteful. In Morrison City Andy learned the skills of bargaining with vampires in an effort to estrange them from their kindred and also learned the more important skills of supernatural torture and mutilation. He is prone to fits of anger if a friend or loved one is killed and has proved time and time again to be willing to sacrifice many to save one.

In Empire City Andy received several weapons to aid in the fight against the supernaturals, the Sword of Ra, a blessed weapon that excels in killing vamps and a dagger designed specifically to deal with wolves. The sword was brought by an older hunter named Miranda who, along with several hunters brought into Empire City, fought a group of vampires called the Fallen in order to save a fellow hunter named Vegas. The battle was hard fought, but Andy's plan to rescue Vegas had held together mostly well; the hunters had found Vegas and had rescued her, but at the loss of two fellow hunters, their leader Trask, and a big hulking man named Jimbo. A bomb that had been rammed into the building was set off, entombing most of the Fallen inside. In the final battle of Empire City, Andy and the others engaged the Fallen and several wolves around the area of the crater that was once a theater, Andy claimed the head of one of the Fallen, Azazeal, and met another hunter who would become his wife, Wendy. A younger hunter named Dez was wounded by a wolf and ran off, Andy decided against hunting him down... his past was already wearing thin on him and guilt prevented him from carrying the action out.

In Prague Andy's first son was born thanks to magic Pontius had used on Wendy, Wendy herself was turned afterwards and later was killed by the hunters in a fight in the Crooked House. In that fight, Andy and Vegas killed Pontius but the group suffered the loss of Sven, Ace, and Jack. Andy soon died in a hospital but was returned to life by the bite of Vegas, who had been turned into a wolf while in Prague. Joker took Andy's new son back to America where he could be taken care of by Wendy's mother while Andy and Vegas ran off to spend the night of the full moon somewhere safe. They managed to find other wolves, Holly and Lisa, Holly was Vegas's sister and the group went to a warehouse to wait for the others. In the warehouse Andy met Harlow, Star, and again met Ryan, who's brother Andy had killed in Empire City, fortunately for Andy, Ryan spared Andy's life thanks to the mental breakdown Andy was having. There was another fight in the warehouse and Lisa and Vegas were both killed, Andy's mind spiraled out of control and he began to hear voices but managed to stay coherent enough to lead Dez away from the others and hopefully towards rescue by a returning Joker. In a fight near the docks, Andy was reunited with his wife who had managed to return back to life as a human thanks to her death as a kindred in the Crooked House and some inter-dimensional travel. In the end, Andy, Wendy, and their son Michael finally returned home only to be confronted with more vampires. Claudius had been following Andy's bloodline for centuries and revealed to Andy how his parents died and how Andy had received his talisman that he wore around his neck. Claudius told Andy that if he agreed to sign a contract along with his wife that they would be taken care of and that like his father, Andy had created enemies everywhere. Andy realized the truth behind Claudius's words and signed the contract along with Wendy, enslaving his blood line to Claudius. Unknown to both of them, they had just created a trend common in the Crooked World, lycans becoming the slaves of the kindred.


Picture of Andy thanks to Silly.


And of course Andy's wife, Wendy.

@Warork

Why did i read it first...

player: Sillyboy

PC

Character: Sky 'Vegas' Henderson ( Crooked )
Race/affiliation: Hunter/ Dervish
Physical Description: Female, 1.70 m, Athletic , brown hair, green eyes, 28 years old.
Equipment: a pair of pistols, stake, Daggers and muddy tattered clothes.

Background:
Sky was seven when the world changed. In the middle of day the sun disappeared and never returned.
Things of nightmare stalked the streets and carved their own bloody path into history. She and her family fled from Las Vegas, her hometown. They scavenged the land with untold millions of refugees. Their numbers declined rapidly as the vampires build their own twisted society. Her parents died after they had been struck down with illness. What once was once a easily curable virus, was now an unstoppable killer.
Sky and Holly survived the passing years, only trusting each others. Until they met the resistance. Loose remnants of what once was the network. Holly wanted to help, she had enough of merely surviving. She wanted to take action. Sky tried, but couldn't change her mind.

The first encounter with 'them' went horrible. Lots of hunters died as they walked straight into an ambush. The Vampirii struck with unrelenting madness. Their crazed laughter sneered trough the cold air. Holly was captured by the wretched inhabitants off the new world, blood dripped of her lips as a vampire tied her up.

Vegas barely escaped, dragged away by the few remaining hunters. Vegas rage broke her rescuers upper arm.
Holly was still alive. Vegas could feel it, she needed to go back. Her fellow survivors quickly moved onwards, with blank faces.
If she wanted dead, who were they to stop her. She came to the battlefield. Empty. Everything was gone, no body, weapon was left
to prove what had transpired. Only the plowed earth, filled with the bloody tears of the deceased remembered them.

Vegas followed the tracks of a large group walking away from the field. She followed the path for an eternity. The darkness robbing her off any sense of time. Never stopping to feed, rest Vegas finaly reached the outskirts of a seaside city. Screams off terror and despair echoed trough the eternal night. Vegas arrived at her location.

She spied the city for several weeks, surviving of stolen food out of the big greenhouses. But as much as she tried.
Vegas couldn't enter the city. She made a gamble and contacted a ghoul, living in the city. She promised him everything if he could find
out where her sister was. The ghoul greedily accepted. The price was high, but Vegas got her information.

She waited for an opportunity to strike. It didn't take long for it too arrive. A storm breached trough to the city.
Vegas placed herself in a tiny boat and paddled to the abandoned docks. Under the cover of the ravaging storm she infiltrated the blood farm. Sterile white walls greeted her. The walls were divided into small sections, each with his own number. She opened the section which the ghoul had told her. He was right. The section opened, revealing a naked Holly floating in a thick blue liquid. several tubes pierced in her flesh.

Vegas broke the glass wall in a mighty blow. The fluid crashed into her. The smell of rotting flesh slamming in nostrils.
And finally Holly was back in her hands. Vegas hold her tight, almost suffocating her. Holly didn't responded. She cleaned the mucus of her face. No reaction. Vegas panicked and started pulling the damned tubes out of her. One of them released a transparent liquid. Morfine. Vegas continued, pulling the last one out of her neck. Blood trickled out of it. With every heartbeat more of the precious Vitea left her body.
Her panic increased, Tears started to form in her eyes. she placed the needle back. It didn't help. More blood flooded out. she placed her hand on the bleeding wound. Pressing. Keeping as much as possible inside. Holly opened her tired blood-soaked eyes. She raised her shaking hands towards Vegas. Softly following her cheeks. "You came back" Holly spoke with a rusted voice. Her hand fell on the cold sterile floor.

Vegas left the lifeless body on the ground. She had tried but failed. Tears speckled her bloody face. She ignored, the Vampirii and ghouls who looked up as she passed. Shocked too see a human running trough the streets. Arriving at the docks she saw Arbites standing next to her rusty little vessel. They looked over their shoulders as they reeked the presence of fresh blood behind them. There was no escape.
Vegas dove into the icy sea. Her blooded hands carrying her away from Holly. Cold slipped into her limbs numbing them one at a time.
It was time to leave this all behind. Vegas gave up. Surrendering to the crashing waves.

Flaws/Vice:
Wrath: Sky blames the unnatural for all what happened in the world. The wars of blood, the tears of innocent.
Flaw: Vegas likes too smoke, but cigarettes are increasingly harder to find.

Virtues:
Industria/Dilligence: Vegas is stubborn and will continue to press on...

Location/resources: On the road
Vehicle: nothing for now
Stats: WS-6/BS-4/S-4/T-4/W-3/I-6/A-4/Sv-3+

special rules:
Whirligig: The dervish increases the ferocity of their attacks. The dervish gets an additional attack at the cost of -1 to their toughness to represent their lack of attention to defense.





Major NPC

Character: Sophia Von Dusseldorf
Race/affiliation: Kindred/ House of Julii/ Perpetua Clan
Physical Description: Female, 52 inches, skinny, brown hair, hazelbrown eyes.
Appearence: Always dressed in sober Victorian styled clothes, two black bows placed in her brown hair.
A Golden cross hanging from a necklace.

Background:
A lot of the history of Sophia is shrouded in mystery. Her Embracer was never found, leaving her Houseless in the World.
But still Sophia managed to work her self up during the chaos of 'The Rise'. Using her heritage as an Old Blood and malicious intellect to be inducted in to the House of Jullii.
Living under the protection of the Perpetua clan. One of the smaller clans within the House.

Her delicate accent betrays her origins of growing up around the Schwarzwald in West-Germany.
Supposedly she lived during the Victorian era, her wardrobe still reflects the fashion of that time.
She has a great interest in biology, studying many of earths inhabitants. Her personal library is filled with these books of knowledge.
Many entries written by herself.

She lives outside the city of Arl'nev, prefering the silence off the wasteland.
A small staff of slaves, New Bloods and prometheans fall under her protection. Serving their Domina until the end of times.

Sophia is often found standing alone on the balcony.
Eyes looking into Oblivion, under the dark sky.
A hand tightly gripped around a golden cross.

*******
Wash me away
Clean your body of me
Erase all the memories
They will only bring us pain

"Yet pain and memories, are the fuels of our existence..."

Sophia, 13th of oktober 1992,
At the Advent of the Rise


Flaws/Vice:
Wrath: Some things can't be forgotten.

Virtues:
Patientia: Trough the years Sophia has learned that rash action are futile, to survive one requires patience and mercyless calculations.

Location/resources: Outside of Arl'nev, the black city.
Vehicle: Has several methods of transportation, but she prefers to ride on horseback.
Stats: WS-7/BS-4/S-7/T-6/W-3/I-7/A-3/SV-3+

special rules:
Starvation: A starving Vampire reduces his stats by -1 for everything except wounds and this continues until the modifier reaches -3 at which point the Vampirii loses a wound. ( Taking one victims per week is the minimal requirement in order to maintain strength.)
Creature of the Night: Sunlight counts as an instant-death weapon against Vamps,however to reflect a possible escape (if applicable) Vampires get one + 5 save to get to cover,if the save is successful the vampire takes a wound and counts as starving until it feeds again.
Immortality: As a Vampire one can live forever, normal weapons no longer kill the body.They will only damage it.But there is an exception, the decapitation of the vampire will release the bond between body and soul.
Heritage of Vlad: Vampires are Vulnerable to wood, the alien living tissue conflicting with their own. A wooden stake through the heart will paralyze the vampire.
Gifts of Blood: The Vampire has the possibility to regenerate wounds by feeding of humans. Using the precious blood to repair their own body.

Player- Darksage

Character- *Joker* Real name not known.

Race and clan/archetype Hunter/Joan

Physical Description; Medium height, blue eyes, neat brown hair, fit.

Equipment; Light sub machine gun , tan suit, many house hold items and some things he could use for potential explosives. Duffel bag full of *goodies*

Backstory; Joker's parents were always a mystery to him. Alive or dead it never really mattered that much, he was an orphan and just had to deal with it. He wasn't too worried about whether he was the lost prodigy of a wealthy family who died in some overly traumatic way. Or if he was the begotten son of some girl in high school couple who couldn't support having a family. One day a man had offered him a life of something more but required much of him. He had to fake his own death and give up all of his past life to become something else. The man who took him in demanded much of him, most of all utter unquestionable loyalty. This man was the King, and Joker proudly became one of the King''s men carrying out the King's orders with pride. The King's men had always worked with the Network, the Network appreciated the help but didn't exactly approve of the reasons. It was to get power over others. The King's Men pretty much owned Vegas and all the businesses payed tribute. They were the King's, they were on top.

Other info: He refuses to tell anyone his real name often dancing around the question when it's asked in an avoidance. For all intents and purposes his name was Joker.

Virtue- Poker face, when Joker lies it's hard to tell, and he lies a lot.

Vice- Stubborn, Joker will not admit he's in a bad situation or needs help even when he's backed against the wall. He insists it's just part of the game.

Pic http://www.google.com/imgres?q=Benny+new+vegas+joker&hl=en&safe=off&gbv=2&biw=1024&bih=577&tbm=isch&tbnid=o3QrF9N31zCNJM:&imgrefurl=http://fallout.wikia.com/wiki/File:Joker_1.jpg&docid=hF_E1LPq2-cphM&w=362&h=513&ei=0weNTs-IF8bysgbekaEJ&zoom=1&iact=hc&vpx=98&vpy=117&dur=399&hovh=126&hovw=89&tx=101&ty=107&page=1&tbnh=126&tbnw=89&start=0&ndsp=16&ved=1t:429,r:0,s:0

Player- Darksage

Character- *Chamuel Pattern Armor grants them a 2+ save.
Flechette gun for vampire threats, Shotguns with silver laced buckshot for werewolves. The Black Knight*

Race and clan/archetype Tank

Physical Description; Tall, grey hair with some bits of black still in it, medium weight, very strong, beard.

Equipment; Black Chamuel Pattern Armor
Flechette gun for vampire threats, Shotguns with silver laced buckshot for werewolves.

Backstory; Knight had been childhood friends with none other than the King. He has a twin brother named the Red Knight had until now both accompanied the King as a personal guard. With things getting more hectic the King ordered Knight to guard Joker and help him. Knight had been there since the King built his empire and had been a part of it. He had a tendency for saving the King's life so he was always near. His fierce loyalty had known no bounds giving anything to protect.

Other info: Knight has been like a uncle to Joker giving him wisdom over the years.

Virtue- Wisdom, years of experience have weathered this man into being able to tell truth from bs and being able to give decent insight.

Vice- Overbearing, he might seem like a lot to deal with often times without knowing the line of personal space. There is always someone out there who wants to kill them and as long as he's there he feels like he's balancing it out.

http://www.google.com/imgres?q=strong+old+man&hl=en&gbv=2&biw=1024&bih=554&tbm=isch&tbnid=4h-B1s-P3P9xuM:&imgrefurl=http://www.sodahead.com/united-states/the-top-2008-election-quotes-that-made-you-say-wtf-which-one-is-your-favorite/question-185441/&docid=MUbJ91aZoh8NNM&w=350&h=466&ei=O6qQTu7zF6Lf0QGxw90t&zoom=1&iact=hc&vpx=633&vpy=169&dur=4890&hovh=259&hovw=194&tx=52&ty=122&page=5&tbnh=155&tbnw=119&start=38&ndsp=10&ved=1t:429,r:3,s:38

Player- Darksage

Character- *2 of spades*

Race and clan/archetype Medic/Lazarus

Physical Description; Skinny, about 5,5, short brown hair, bad eyes,

Equipment; Raphael pattern medical kit, pistol with silver tipped rounds. Glasses, suit that's too small for him,

Backstory; 2 of spades has never been really more than average in anything. He failed at every sport he tried and was never that good with the ladies. He always seemed to say the wrong thing at the wrong time. The only reason he was let into the King's men was because of a recommendation from his father. The only really skill set that anyone has ever found useful in spades was that he could patch someone up after a fight. He decided that he had gone through some pretty intense beatings in his life and decided that he would like to know how to patch himself up afterwards. After school he had become a med student but never really had the grades to pass. Out on his own and jobless he thought he would take up his offer to join the King's Men.

Other info: He can be awkward.

Virtue- He means well, no matter how much he messes something up you can't be that mad, he was only trying to help.

Vice- He doesn't like to hurt things and sometimes will willingly run from a fight if the situation allows it.

http://www.google.com/imgres?q=awkward+guy&um=1&hl=en&sa=N&biw=1024&bih=554&tbm=isch&tbnid=LYb1qHuxWkX42M:&imgrefurl=http://www.mancouch.com/704735174/michael-cera-champion-of-the-awkward/&docid=0UYBYPJIDYsu5M&w=279&h=420&ei=g62QTqy_H6ry0gHZ08TlDQ&zoom=1&iact=hc&vpx=519&vpy=164&dur=1152&hovh=276&hovw=183&tx=98&ty=174&page=2&tbnh=158&tbnw=133&start=8&ndsp=8&ved=1t:429,r:2,s:8

Location- Las Vegas

Player: Berserksteve
Character: David Rainer “Illuminatus”
Class: Arch Mage
Faction: Gray Matter
Schools: Arcane
Physical Description: He stands 6 feet tall, long unkempt hair and slender figure. His body is etched with tattoo's
Equipment: Tattered Robes, books, dried herbs in pockets, a watch set to each time zone and a hat.
Backstory:
Born David Rainer, Illuninatus started his life in a Washington state with his parents. He showed to be a smart child, while not a genius, he showed great hopes in school and started to study to become an archeologist like his father. His father never made any huge discoveries but he had a great fascination with the Great Lake of Michigan, where he believed a lost city was. David graduated collage and showed hope for a successful career.
After a year of looking for work he found a group of people who were interested in the Great Lakes and had a plan to take submarines and scuba equipment to find something similar to what David’s dad was looking for. David hopped right on board with the mission.
The mission had 12 people; including David and two subs. David soon started to see that these weren’t normal archeologists, after going under the lakes did he learn that the group had explosives and were “Keeping humanity safe.” Little is know what happened after that point but one of the subs returned while David’s sub had gone missing.
After a week David’s sub was found on a shore in Canada with him alone on the ship and the rest of the crew missing. David also refused to be called by his name, insisting he was called Illuminatus. After being held by authorities a group came and broke him out of custody. The old David Rainer was reported as miss and for the next year Illuminatus was with a covenant of Gray Matter mages, where he began to control his power and learn about who he was. He soon become a very helpful force with the mages, usually being default to work and communicate with, he was still very effective in his work.
Soon Illuminatus’s past came back. The crew that managed to escape from the expedition in the lakes learned that Illuminatus was still alive and was “corrupted by the dark powers” that existed at the bottom of the lake. With the help of the Six Fingered Hand, they hunted him down along with the rest of his covenant, after a month of running and fighting, Illuminatus was the only one left.
Illuminatus severed himself from the rest of the mages and is now living alone in a small downtown apartment, studying is solitude.
Other info:
Virtue - Fortitude
Vice- Untrusting


Player: Berserksteve
Character: Sophie Miller
Class: Battle Mage
Faction: The Prodigy
Schools: Umbra
Physical Description: Sophie stands 5"3 and keeps her hair short.
Equipment: She wears a heavy jacket and keeps a concealed gun on herself.
Backstory:
Sophie grew in a military family her whole life. She found herself going all over the world but never being able to stay in one place for long. While she never saw violence, she always feared war and fighting.
When Sophie was 17 she was living in South Africa. When it came to here last week of living there her family was ordered to stay. For the next month all ports were closed and she was forced to stay at the base and could not leave. At day time it was calm but ever night she would hear bullets being fired and the sound of people fighting. She was never told what they were fighting, even the troops were questioning their officers, they were told to just follow orders. Her father was killed in the first night leaving Sophie with just her mother.
Over that mouth she talked with no one, some nights she would just hold up here ear the walks, listing to the fighting, She would even fire guns at the target range. Other nights she was acting like herself. Along with that, that troops started to fear Sophie and avoid her. One man even walked into her room with a knife but he was stopped and was left out into the night with no weapons.
The troops’ thoughts become more twisted as time went one, brawls were more common and some even started to look forward to the night. Sophie’s mother over this time was doing everything she could to go somewhere else. Her mother was finally able to bring in a helicopter for them but by this time all the troops were different people, taking out their guns they started to chase them. Sophie with her mother and few of the sane solders made their way out of the base while mad solders shot at them. As they ran Sophie picked up a gun and fired back, this was her first time firing a person, she was very good at it.
They made it back to helicopter and flew off they saw a better view of the base, seeing stakes of inhuman beast and monsters' corpses. After the military learned of the events at the base they wanted Sophie to come with them but before they could make contact with Sophie, her mother sent her off to The Prodigy mages where she learned to control her powers and the dark spirit within. She has worked for the mages now for a few years.
Other info: The spirit within her takes the name Guruhi
Virtue- Honest
Vice- Coward

(hope this works out.)


Derrick Moss
Race: Werewolf/Mgral
Stats: WS-7/BS-4/S-7/T-7/W-3/I-6/A-4/SV-3+
Equipment: 7.62 mm, Self Loading Rifle, sig p9226, silver knife, UV strobe light, (silver /wooden glaser bullets) Stake. US military fatigues (jungle) M1 helmet. Flak vest. Normally wears black pants, brown shirt and a trenchcoat, also, a 40’s ‘detective’ Fedora
Appearance: Derrick has black hair and slightly rampant acne.



Derrick was 18 when he was drafted to fight in the jungles of Vietnam, he was put into Bravo Company, a unit deployed to the Central Highlands.
In time, Derrick’s platoon was on patrol out of ‘Fort Bronx’ was ambushed near the town of Ba Cat. This was Derrick’s most hellish combat experience, He could not see the enemy, but he could damn sure hear them, flashes of rifle fire jetted form the thicker jungle. Derrick fired indiscriminately into the jungle, VC RPG fire shot out of the trees.
The 60. C al was giving cover fire to the retreating platoon, Derrick was ordered to load for the 60. as the gunner had taken a bullet to the shoulder. Derrick pressed himself as low to the ground as possible while holding up the ammo belts for the gun.
After the last of the troops had been evac-ed, Derrick and the Specialist carried the gunner back to the rendezvous point.
Midway there, a beast tore it’s way out of the jungle, a cross between man and wolf, it ran directly at the soldiers and leapt.
Derrick was thrown to the ground and savaged. The beast sunk it’s teeth into the boy’s side before the gunner sent a dozen rounds into it’s chest, it jumped off of Derrick and tried to consume the gunner. the beast almost killed the gunner before he could stab it with his knife, this sent the beast howling onto the forest.
The two were found several minutes later by a passing Chopper and brought not to the base hospital, but to the MACV-SOG headquarters in Saigon.
The last thing Derrick remembered was being put under anesthesia. When he awoke, it was in a MACV SOG base at Khe Saan. He was put through intense training, never given any reason why he was out directly into the SpecOps aside from ‘exceptional competence in Black Operations and courage in the field of battle’ after several weeks of missions, he discovered what had happened via the bite when he was doing a solo infil on an NLF compound. He did not report this to his superiors, but soon after, he figured out exactly what was wrong with him, requesting leave every full moon was not hard. He would simply sneak off into the jungle and rampage about the VC camps. This went on for several months until his final mission in postwar Vietnam was up, the MACV SOG let him out and he was sent back to the states.
He tried to cope with both the hellish memories of Vietnam and the fact that he turned into an eight-foot beastman every full moon but found it increasingly difficult.
Within a year, he was living in the ghetto of Detroit, a drunk, without a future aside form having to leave the city once a month.
One full moon, he was driving out of the city and happened upon another werewolf.
It was a nrajah, another wolf that had foresworn the clans. It noticed Derrick wile hunting and attacked him, Derrick was saved by another werewolf though, a passing ‘hunter’ it had been tracking the nrajah who had gone insane and slaughtered several hundred head of cattle. And five ranchers

He werewolf saw that Derrick was another and took him with him to his pack, a group of ‘liberal’ werewolves, that believed that humans and werewolves should live in a beneficent existence, the condemned criminals should be eaten, and thus the werewolves would be able to satisfy heir need for flesh, while the werewolves that killed uncondemned humans would also be executed. The pack was part of this society, mostly older werewolves, few were younger and inclined to be more peaceful then their ‘savage’ brethren. They had been puling strings for almost one thousand years. Slowly trying to get the point across, eliminating unruly nrajha as well as the more fanatical branches of the Hunters, they held a particular view on the Six-Fingered-Hand, a view usually seen through the crosshairs of a scope. The Pack though, knows that Vampires are nothing but mindless freaks who exist only to leech the blood of society.
Derrick agreed wholeheartedly with their ideals, he also agrees that while Natasha is an ‘interesting case’ and might turn out for the better, though as of now, she seems to be turning into a slightly unsavory character. The Pack has been hoping that sending Derrick’s command to ‘work with’ the wolves in Natasha’s group, will aid their cause just that much more.


Flaws/Vice: Derrick is a ‘new wolf’ still, and prefers the non-violent approach. Derrick is plagued by PTSD and is still wary of his werewolf side, preferring the use of weapons over claws. he still has nightmares about Vietnam. Derrick finds it hard to go for five minutes without a cigarette or a bottle of a possibly alcoholic substance. He is a chronic liar when it fits his needs.
Virtue: Derrick spent most of his post-war life as a mercenary, he is skilled with weapons and prefers to use human tools over claws.
Vehicle: Armor Plated Maruti Gypsy (grey, brown and green camo paintjob)



NPCs:
Alberto Ruiz:
Werewolf: Grubrah
Stats: WS-9/BS-1/S-8/T-8/W-3/I-6/A-5/SV-3+
Clothes/armor: loose blue jeans, brown shirt, sweatshirt, trenchcoat, M60 ammo bandolier. Large-brimmed pimp-hat (that’s what derrick calls his wide-brimmed hat) winter jacket, BP vest (when needed)
Height: 5-4 (immense when he Changes.)
Appearance: Hispanic, short:
Gear: M60 GPMG, Walther P22, fire hatchet.
Ruiz was pretty shocked to see Derrick again when he arrived at the Detroit base of the Blunted Fang. He had operated Derrick’s MACV SOG team’s machine gun. And had last seen Derrick when they parted ways when Ruiz was shot up in the jungle and was taken out during the evacuation of Saigon. Derrick’s team had been ordered to pull back to a classified base in the Central Highlands. When they met again, thy were both put in the same ‘killteam’ an have gone on many missions together.
Ruiz was bitten buy a rouge wolf soon after he returned to the Bronx, The Grubrah had accosted him at full moon, mad with hunger, it had chased Ruiz into an ally, where it attempted to maul him, Ruiz climbed up a drainpipe, but had been bittern in his mad dash for it. Ruiz was saved by the intervention of the police, who fired on the beast and drove it off.
The former soldier lived an ordinary life in the Bronx until he discovered his lycanic abilities. He was lost and confused, within a year, Hunters broke into his apartment and attempted to do away with him. he fled to the only place where he might be able to escape: Detroit, where Derrick lived.
When Ruiz arrived at Detroit, he did not find his fiend for almost three years, working as a triggerman for the Mob until, on a lonely stretch of path, he happened across Derrick, how was going on a Solo hunt of a vampire who was killing hookers in the city. After greetings and catching-up were exchanged, Ruiz aided Derrick in the extermination and moved to the apartment building used by the Detroit branch of the blunted Fang.
After about two months, the mob group that had been his employers sought to make , sure he did not ‘squeal’ and sent an assassin to kill him.
The mobster Don was surprised to awaken wit an enraged Grubrah butchering his way through his house.
The body was never found, just a few bones, stripped of flesh.
Ruiz has since worked with the Fang, he has been put in Derrick’s group as their gunner
Other Info: Ruiz remembers the werewolf that attacked him had several scars across his face, most noticeably a pair across the cheek and one on the snout.
Vice: Nachos, Ruiz cant get enough.
Flaw: Wrath: Ruiz will be driven by a brutal vengeance if he is betrayed, often hunting down the wrongdoers and killing them in a gory fashion, he has a perpetual angry look on his face.
Virtue: Loyalty.



Abdi Korfa
Werewolf/Shunkaha
Appearance: Black, large man, Somolian.

Clothes: Blue jeans (loose, baggy) bandanna around his head, blue shirt and bulletproof vest.
Weapons: AK74U carbine (shortened barrel) Mossberg 50 shotgun, silver/wooden glazer rounds, silver and wooden AP rounds. 38. Special (stake and silver glazer rounds) Machete.
Born into a wealthy family in Somalia, Abdi soon fell in with the ‘wrong crowd’ this was several years before the Mogadishu incident. Abdi left to go pirating before it.
Abdi’s pirating career was cut short when he was boarded by Saudi naval infantry when in the Persian gulf and thrown in jail.
In prison, Abdi met an Indian who was trying to escape before the full moon. Abdi aided him in his efforts, using the man’s unnatural strength to make a lever of the cots they had.
The night however, was full moon.
When the two ran out of the prison via the sewers, the man Changed and attacked Abdi, biting him before running off into the night. Abdi fled.
He worked as a mercenary in the Belgian Congo for many years before heading for America, where he worked for local cimelords, mostly the drug lords of South America. After a while he was found by the Fang, who’s agents were checking the cars of passing border crossers under the guise of border guards. They were making sure no one was smuggling nrajah or kindred into the States.
The group took Abdi with them to Detroit, where he was put into Derrick’s ‘squad’ he has been there foe a year and a half.

Flaw: cruelty
Virtue: preserve
Vice: Kaht (This would have the side effect of increasing his endurance)
Vehicle: refitted crab fisher, contains ammo, base needs and vehicle storage along with an RPG below decks and a rail-mounted Para SAW in case a quick escape is needed.
MINOR NPC
Dutch Shultz
(open this image in a new tab to see it.)
Clothes: suitcoat, Stetson hat, silver-tipped boots.
Weapons: Colt M1911, Browning Hi-Power. Silver/wooden hollow point bullets (1/2 silver, ½ mini stakes) Thompson .45 submachine gun ‘Chicago Typewriter’. (silver/wooden cigarette rounds)
Shultz was just an ordinary human being at the time of his ‘death’ a Jewish-American mobster in New York, he was assassinated by agents of Murder. Inc when his boss feared he would go about a denied hit, he contacted Moran’s irish-American mob and had them pull the job along with Murder inc.
Immediately after he died, one of his best hitmen, a werewolf whom Shultz new was a Lycan, had been ordered to bite him on the event of his death.
He did so and Shultz returned to the land of the living, his coffin was empty, a closed coffin funeral was arranged and not many people saw.

Shultz contacted the hunters of the Six-Fingered hand, posing as a network informant.
He informed the members of the Hand that the entire Mob, especially those who killed Shultz, were newly bitten by a rouge wolf who they managed to kill afterwards.
The Hunters posed as members of Al Capone’s Italian mafia and on Thursday February Fourteenth 1929, Ironically, Valentines day, the hunters rounded up the ‘werewolves’ and gunned them down in the notorious ‘Valentines Day Massacre’
Shultz then contacted the hunters again, and met them in person, where h proceeded to whip out his Thompson .45 ‘Chicago Typewriter’ and gun them down.
Shultz then contacted the Blunted Fang, coined their group as a coordinator, and has worked for them ever since

name: slender von maun
age:310
gender:male
race/faction: Totenmaske/ loner
appearance: always wears a custom tailored business suit. Fancy black shoes too.
stats: WS-7/BS-5/S-6/W-3/I-9/A-3/SV-3+
Bio: a totenmaske of surprisingly gentle nature, he finds humans interesting and has enjoyed watching them throughout history. He eventually decided he wanted to experiment with how much his little meat sacks could take; both mentally and physically. So during the 2 great wars,he began such experiments. by Eating the recently dead,and taking on their skin, he drove drove some troop to suicide by haunting them and ripped others apart as they tried in vain to kill him. Eventually, he saw the world settle down and decided to take a more subtle approach to compensate. Taking on businessmen as prey, he learned to enjoy the art of money and made it into a game to see how much he could increase a companies profits before his skin melted off and he was forced to take on another form. His past with the vampire and werewolves is a small one. Why? Because he finds his 'brethren' and the changelings boring compared to the humans and stuck too staying out of their way and not giving them a reason to consider him in the way.

location- las vegas.



NPCs:

name: sarah good
age: 22
gender:female
race/faction: human,student of slender.
appearance:
stats: WS-2/BS-4/S-3/t-3/I-6/A-2/Sv-5+
-is fearless.
bio: coming from a bad home,she learned to be fearless from her abusive mother,who was later shot by her uncle who then shot her and her dad,and hung himself. she survived,but ended up homeless and jobless. after 3 year of barely getting by,she got a job in an underground 'supernatural investigation' clinic,were she learned the wonders of the undead. after a while the store was taken over by a gang and she ran with them in territory disputes. threw gun fights and near death experiences,she learned to love life and take what was given.

location: las vegas.

image pending.

In a game of chess you have to sacrifice a few pieces to get that satisfying checkmate on your opponent. The King was aware of this, although in the moment of sacrifice no one actually feels bad about the pieces they lose because everything is falling into place. Of course this all changes when you swap out pieces for people and a valuable Knight or Bishop for a beloved son or son.

Joker tongued the barrel of the gun in his mouth feeling the cold metal with his tongue and getting a faint taste of oil, and also maybe even...salt? He guessed the gun was dirty because after a while anything that went long enough without being cleaned began to taste of salt. He had had been captured by the Black Serpents while out on the strip drinking. It was a miracle they got away with it he thought to himself; there had been increased security on the strip since the shootings started. It made "business" harder, but not impossible.

"Ready to talk?" A voice came from somewhere in the room. Joker couldn't tell from his blindfold how many people were actually with him at the moment, or where he was for that matter. "I'm growing tired of you fething around with us." The voice sounded again.

Joker tried to say something but it just came out in a series of muzzled grunts. The man with the gun slowly pulled out it from from his mouth cautiously. Now, what were you trying to say now?" The man directly in front of him asked.

"That before I say anything I want this blindfold removed and to be untied." Joker demanded into what seemed to him like a room of darkness.

"Just the blindfold." A voice said from across the room again. "Do it." It commanded.

Joker heard footsteps circle him and as he undid the blindfold the room came into Joker's view. It was a not very well lit room on the top story of a very high building. He was facing a large glass window where he could see a few smaller buildings and the lights of the strip in the distance. Apparently they hadn't taken him very far from his capture. He wondered how long they had been here under the King's nose. The room was bare with almost nothing in it but an empty table next to the wall and his captures. There were three men surrounding him. The one with the gun in his hand was wearing a black leather jacket with the Serpent's emblem branded across it matching one of the other men in the room. The man who was making all the commands was a pale guy wearing very formal wear; A white dress shirt, black tie, black dress pants and a black jacket folded up on a chair next to him.

Joker fumbled around in the chair he was tied in for a few seconds trying to get comfortable but gave up deeming it as impossible. "So you must be the leader of the Black Serpents I presume." Joker asked addressing the man in the formal attire.

"You presume correctly mortal" He said continuing. "Your King tries to control everything thinking he can bully any who get his way."

"And why wouldn't he?" Joker retorted. "He has every judge and every politician in this state in his pocket. He has the power to make changes and the muscle to back it up."

"He trifles in things he can't possibly understand and his golden prince Joker dances to his tune, ready to obey every pull of the string no matter the consequence. You are pathetic mortal, you know you're being manipulated and still don't do anything about it."

"Mortal? You're a fething vampire aren't you. The Black Serpents aren't a gang...there a cult." Joker said coming to the realization.

"And finally one of the pest catches on. I watched how things unfolded and I was disgusted the most by you. When you know someone in manipulating you, yet make no attempt ot fight against it. You are perfectly content with being a tool, a pawn of someone else."

"I'm not being controlled!" Joker protested losing his cool for the first time in a while.

"You fancy yourself a player while every step is another persons decision or move to get ahead." As his captor finished his sentence something caught Joker's eye. On the rooftop in front of them he saw movement for a brief second. He watched carefully and there it was again. "So tell me human? What makes you so damn confident?"

"I have an ace in the hole." Joker said with a grin and look of relish on his face. The crack of a rifle sounded from outside followed by shattered glass. The round tore straight through the chest of one of the men behind him. The sound of gunfire erupted downstairs. A look of panic washed over the vampires face and he turned to Joker. "You swine!" he called out "You lead them straight to us!" Another shot sounded from outside and the neck of the vampire bursted open. He clutched at the recently opened hole in his neck and a look of dismay and anger showed on his face. It seemed as if he tried to say something but it came out in the sound of a gurgle.

"gak!" Joker yelled using all his strength to try to get out but it was no use. The maddened bloodthirsty kindred charged him full speed while his lackey ran to the window to try to get a sight on the sniper. But just as he faced the window he head exploded in a rain of gore sending chunks splattering onto the floor. The vampire looked him in the eyes with a look of menace and hate. Joker struggled more to get away from the vampire but could not. He leapt at him but at the moment joker jerked as hard as he could flipping his chair on the back. The kindred crashed into the leg of the chair sending him stumbling back for a moment. As he readied to finish his hostage off one last rifle crack came from outside bursting through the vampire's chest cavity with a wooden round this time and sent hims sprawling to the ground dead.

It wasn't long before the rest of the King's men finished off the Black Serpents and freed Joker. "You're lucky to be alive you know." Said Knight.

"I suppose I am." Said Joker. "How did you find me in the first place by the way?"

"We had put a tracker in the roof of your mouth" Said Knight. "We knew they were going to go after you so we used you to find their hideout and it worked like a charm." He said confidently.

"How did you get a tracker implanted in the roof of my mouth without me knowing" Joker asked curiously as they walked out.

"You snore." Stated Knight.

OOC: Damn...was hoping for first intro post...

San Francisco, Present Day.

He ran...It was all he could do...he was outnumbered...they had killed them all...all of his brothers, the only thing he could do was run and hope for some unholy miracle to save him...

Through the back roads of apartments and shanty houses, away from the parking garage where this horrid night had started. He was just a courier, just supposed to hand off the package. The thought reminded him of the briefcase attached to his wrist with handcuffs. He didn't spare it a glance because then he would be tempted to look behind him and he knew what was behind him would just make him panic even more than he was already. Sweat poured down his face, he was hyperventilating, adrenaline rushed through his old veins. Never in his service to the kindred had he been this close to oblivion. He remembered how the night had gone, flashes of the blood curdling memories filtered into his strained mind as he ran down dark streets only lit by scant few streetlights and inhabited only by stray animals and refuse rats...

He had been ordered to take this package, this briefcase he'd gotten at the drop off sight in China town down here to the Mission district and hand it off to...well, he hadn't been told who, but he knew they were kindred as well and he knew this package was important. So important in fact that he wasn't allowed to open it, just to hand it off. He'd been there tonight, the basement of the parking garage a few blocks away now. He'd been there when a Juli master escorted by his two Opirk's and a ring of other Dhampyre's like him had arrived in black unmarked vehicles and the two had gone to exchange the package...and then...and then...

And then hell...hell everywhere...He shuddered to think about what he'd seen and heard and felt in that garage...

They materialized from the shadows, a dozen at least, snarling, howling, charging, talons outstretched and fangs bared...frazzled, furred bodies lined with muscle and fueled by an animalistic rage and beastly intelligence...gunshots echoed, the lights had been shot out. He'd ducked for cover, crawled out of the way of the screams and the sickening crunching noises followed by putrid splatters of something's vital fluids, he remembered getting hit in the face by something wet as the snarling and howling continued. He ran, got back to his car, turned it on and raced it as fast out of there as he could...

He'd gotten maybe one block out when he saw something he swore he would keep until his dying day. A shape, a lithe, bounding shape was galloping along the rooftops of the street next to him and he could only stre in horrid fascination as the shape launched itself from the roof down onto his car and caused it to swerve dizzily until it crashed into a telephone pole and knocked him cold. When he'd woken up he was sore all over and was sure he'd broken something, his face was still wet but he hadn't yet had time to check if that was his own blood or something else's...

And so he had run...that was all he could do...run and hope he'd given those beasts the slip...

He stopped at an intersection to catch his breath, the growling and howling he'd heard earlier had gone but still he could not shake the feeling that something was following him. He had to throw the beast's off his trail. He searched frantically and finally found an alley, bounding off into it in the hopes that it would confuse his pursuers. The darkness around him was so thick he could have cut it with a kife, he couldn't see anything in front of him and in his panicked haste he ran into a garbage can and tipped it over with a loud clang. He nearly fell but was able to right himself mid fall and made a mad dash for the alley exit, the more distance he could put from his pursuers the better...

He was finally getting somewhere, he breathed easier now, realizing he wasn't being followed anymore...as he moved he wondered about the pack that had attacked them, perhaps they had just been a loose assortment of underworld pups, looking for an easy meal. Yes, that was it, and he'd made it out to be such a big deal, he almost chuckled to himself as he panted with the thought. He was going to live tonight...he was going to--

He turned a corner in the alley system to be greeted by a dead end...he swallowed but his dry throat wouldn't let him the simple relief of a fearful gesture...

growling...low growling...behind him... He spun around, whipping his pistol out and pointing it at the shape that stood in the alley entrance. It held one of its long arms out and drug its claws against the brick wall of one of the ally's sides. The moon above them cast a shadow over its huge form but outlined its figure so that he could see its silhouette. It raised its lupine head and snarled at him, inching forwards on its two long legs as its tail twitched behind it. He could feel the panic welling up in him again, the hyperventilation, he knew he was in a very bad place, he knew he was probably going to die...

"Stay back, This thing's loaded with silver!" He said futilely as he pointed the pistol at the wolf form at the end of the alley. It suddenly stopped and he could have sworn if the creature was capable of doing so it was smiling. It looked at him with its animal eyes and mouthed growling words that shook him to his core.

"It's not me you should be worried about." The beast said...

Before he could open his mouth again...something landed behind him...something big...it shadowed him from the slim light of the moon and pure fear shot up his spine as he knew what he would see when he turned around...

And he knew that he was probably going to die...that it would be the last thing he saw...

The giant of a beast towered over him, a wall of scarred animal muscle and gruff fur all topped off by a huge maw filled with fangs and two massive canines, its black eyes looked down on him with hate. Two thick arms were ended in massive paws with dagger talons jetting from each finger...

It was quiet possibly the closest he'd ever been to a wolf...briefly he tried to think of something to say but when he opened his mouth all that came out was a scream that was quickly silenced with a slash of claws.

The lanky wolf watched as the massively bulked one dug its claws into the dhampyre's chest unceremoniously and ripped its black heart from the ribcage then squeezed it with no force of will until it burst into blood before throwing it over his shoulder where it landed with a wet smack. The two beasts were silent as the big one detached the kindred's hand from his arm, the one that had the handcuff around it. The big scarred wolf tossed the other one the briefcase with a grunt and then took a few moments to change back into his human form. The big wolf stretched his neck and arms as if he'd just finished exercising and then kneeled down to the body as the lanky wolf watched.

The big wolf smirked as he reached behind him and gripped the handle of the knife, bringing out its wickedly long and broad blade. The lanky wolf marveled each time that knife was brought out, to say it was a large knife was an understatement, it might as well have been a short sword as the blade was almost two feet long by itself. The big wolf took the dhampyre's lifeless neck in his hand and used the serrated side of the knife to saw into it as if he was a butcher carving a piece of choice cut. the lanky wolf scowled as this was going.

"Tell me again why you do this?" It asked as it too became human again. The big wolf did not look from its work and concentrated on moving the blade back and forth.

"There once was a man named Kanak." He said in his gruff yet calm voice. "A man who was really a lycan, my father spent his life bringing him down and only did so after sacrificing his own. This Kanak was ancient, a piece of the great Khan's cast empire and one of his lieutenants, they called him 'Kanak the Skull Taker.' Because he had the habit of taking his enemies skulls from their bodies and mounting them outside his tent."

The big wolf got finished with his work and held up the severed head as if examining a collectable item.

"So that anyone who came close would know, be he friend or enemy, just what the man could do." The big wolf finished as other figures arrived in the alley also.

"Report." The big wolf said sternly.

"All enemies accounted for, all dead, Jacob will live but Kaleb didn't make it." one of the figures said as it arrived and tossed the big wolf an object which he caught deftly

"Ah, well, he was a decent fighter." The big wolf said managing to sound as if he didn't care about his dead comrade as he donned the fedora he was tossed and picked up his jacket and put that on as well.

"So that's 'Bloody Zack'? Doesn't look too menacing, humanni will make up all sorts of damn stories." Another figure asked, examining the head the big wolf held in his arms and comparing it to a picture.

"We got what we came for and that's always good, clean up this mess and lets go, the cops are probably halfway here already." The big wolf said as he exited the alley and was followed by the lanky one who had also redressed after their stint in their beastly forms. "That move with the car, that was quick thinking, I like that, I think you're starting to get it." The big wolf said lowly to the lanky one simply grumbled under his breath. The big wolf didn't care, he knew the message had been received, his great grandson just wasn't a big talker was all. "What do you think that car was going, fifty, sixty miles an hour?" The big wolf asked, the lanky one continued to stride, not answering him, the big wolf just smirked at his comrades silence.

The lanky wolf looked down at the head that the big wolf held and then looked back ahead of him for a few moments before speaking.

"Another head for the walls?" He asked as if annoyed...The big wolf smiled, they were going to play this game again...that was alright...

"Nope, the basketball back home is flat and I need a replacement." The big wolf said flippantly, obviously sarcastic. "C'mon, we still have a job to do." He said as behind them the other figures walked out of the alley with a body bag between them and dumped it into a black SUV that sat at the back of a small convoy of vehicles which was headed by a black motorcycle.

"How's it feel?" The big wolf asked the lanky one as he sat on his bike.

"How's what feel?" The other one responded as he opened the door to his muscle car.

"To have finished something you started?" The big wolf called back cheerily and indicated the briefcase before throttling the bike into raucous life and beginning the convoy's trek back out of the city.

(wow, this is what a almost page transfers to? i feel ashamed to have written so little. )

“and so in conclusion,you will see a 20% increase in profit,and put several other chip companies out of business.” as clapping erupted, slender bowed and walked out. damn,only 20%? im loosing my touch... slender thought as he messed with his jaw. having a mouth was odd, and he still wasn’t used to it. As he headed for the exit,he nodded and said bye to his fellow workers. foolish humans,ill be gone tomorrow. his skin was almost out of time. Stepping out into the lights of las vegas,slender sighed. Humans never ceased to throw something new at him. When he had 1st come here,he had never expected some much lighting. Walking along,he looked around. Good, no one was watching. Quickly slipping into an ally,he straightened his tie. Pulling out his booklet,he checked the names on his list. What company would get his expertise this week? After think on it,he looked up and took another left. As he arrived at his good old home of an abandoned warehouse,slender smiled. Another thing he never understood. His mouth always wanted to show emotion when he wore skin.

Sitting down on an old recliner, he flicked the last bits of rotting flesh off his face. It felt good to be free again. Opening his booklet up again,he scanned I one last time. Smiling he closed it and put it up. A butcher company CEO. Now this would be fun. Slipping out and into the shadows, he climbed up onto the roofs. Jumping from building to building,he was thankful and annoyed at the signs. One second they hid him,the next they made threw him into a spotlight. Arriving at his targets house, he jumped down int the alley,scaring a hobo out of his wits.

“shhhhh...” he said to the poor human,who wet himself and fainted. He waited,and waited,until slender saw poor old charles walk out for his nightly walk. “hey, ~charles!~” he called out in a whisper. Charles stopped,and turned. When he saw slender,his eye went wide. Quick as any predator,slender shot out his arms and pulled charles into the shadows. “shhh....” he whispered,holding his mouth closed as he plunged his fingers into the mans gut. Charles tried to scream,but couldn’t. Within half a minute it was over. Straightening his tie, slender,no,charles now, picked up the slouchy remains and climbed up back to the roofs. After taking everything he would need to be charles,he headed back to the warehouse. Walking in,he smiled. Damnit,he needed to learn how to stop that. Throwing the remains into the furnace, he sat down, and took out his booklet. With another annoying smile,he eased charles name from the list. Putting up the booklet again,he took up his book sitting on the stand next to him. He still had 30 minutes before charles had to be home,so why not read? After a few pages,he giggled. Another human thing. “this person is a horrible biologist. Vampires dont sparkle. Silly human must of studied sweaty Dhampyre.” nodding,he closed it and threw it in the furnace. “one day I shall find that author and eat them. The world would thank me for killing such a fool.” standing up,he brushed off his shoulders. “well charles,your wife is waiting,and your girls need tucking in. shall we go?” laughing, slender,no,charles, headed out.

The Incents filled Illuminatus’s brain with a wave of intoxicating thoughts. The world was now dissolving around him. This was a normal feeling for his visions, in this state he just let his mind wonder and traveled though the Veil.

“Are we really going to need this guy?” Bjorn wasn’t so fawned of mages like Illuminatus, always tripping on about metaphysical, saying that nothing is objective and therefore no can be truly right, and making him very difficult to argue with.

Illuminatus was one of the few solo mages that haven’t be corrupted but now he has been living in a rundown apartment that happens to also be the home of gangs, junkies and the occasional ‘down on his luck’ artist. Clearly now that kind of people a mage would want to be with but Illuminatus had a way of forgetting that there were people around.

Sophie cringed as she saw a thin woman shooting heroin into the veins between her toes, Sophie then turned her attention back to Bjorn “Yes, we are going to need him” Sophie argued “His is the only other mage in the area that can help us.” It was a wonder that she was able to catch Bjorn at a time like this. All three have worked together in the past but Illuminatus was always doing that same thing away from everyone else and he never talked to the other mages

The Veil was now strong in room. Illuminatus could now feels every ripple and wave in the world around him something that has always brought him comfort but this time it only gave him an imagine of looming danger in the Veil. Corruption and dark thoughts now plagued this world. Corruption was a common fear for mages but now the Vale was flooded with negative thoughts and twisted imagines. His mind was now throbbing, like something was trying to intrude his thoughts.

Bjorn’s strides were starting to become faster and Sophie was being left behind him “Hold on, Bjorn!”

Bjorn looked back to her “Then speed up, I can sense something following us!”

Sophie’s face turned pale and she started to jag to catch up with Bjorn but he was now running. Sophie was in starting to panic as she was about to bolt but she stopped herself when she was two men armed with SMGs standing at the bashed down door of Illuminatus’s apartment while a tall robed man made his way in.

Illuminatus’s vision was starting to feel more sickening. He was starting to feel suffocated as dark things in the Veil started to close in on him. His breath started to become visible as the room became colder. His lungs were starting to feel heavy as he felt some crawl up his spine as if it were under the skin. A dark figure was starting to appear in his vision; it stretched its hand out, aiming an object at Illuminatus’s face.

The two men spotted Bjorn and Sophie and aimed their weapons. Sophie was able to leap around the corner before the men started to fire; Bjorn was caught in the hale of fire. Sophie only heard the guns going off but she knew Bjorn wasn’t getting out of this one. She reached down, pulled out a glock and held it up ready to fire but her body was trebling with fear, never had she been in this position, she felt like she was one of those hunters that throw themselves into danger for the hell of it.

The robed men went flying out of the Illuminatus’s door way. He fell to the ground with a large burnt opening in his chest; he squirmed around for a moment and died. The two men took cover as the saw their friend go flying. They both made eye contact with each other and nodded. One went into the room while one went after Sophie.

Sophie was still hiding around the corner stunned with fear. Then Guruhi’s voice rang in her head “Death is their only retribution!” Soon a surge of energy filled her body. The man inched his was to where Sophie was hiding with his gun clenched in his hand. He stopped still holding his position and waited. In a moment Sophie aimed her gun around the corner and shot a few rounds into his leg. Pain surged through his body as he fell to the ground. Sophie emerged from hiding. She had a different look in her eyes, the man was trying to grab his gun as she made her way to him but Sophie raised her gun and shot him in the head.

The last gunman set foot into Illuminatus’s apartment. It was very small, the kitchen looked fairly normal but all the walls were lined with book shelves and any blank areas on the walls call had symbols carved into them, most common are flowers with eyeballs bursting out of them. The gunman tried to keep his cool as he searched for the mage but the eye wouldn’t stop staring at the wall. Soon he was aiming his weapon at everything that would move, jumping at the most faint of sounds. Then a loud sound started to be heard to his left. He turned to his left and started to unload his gun but all did was leave a bunch of hole in the wall. He was trying to catch his breath and then he felt a sharp bolt of pain strike his back, he fell to the ground as another bolt hit him, killing him.

Illuminatus’s walked out into the hallway and saw Sophie standing over a dead man. Her body was trebling but she held a stern look on his face. Looking a Bjorn’s body, he was still breathing and only took a few bullets but he was bleeding
“I was hoping that ghouls looked a bit more…ghoulish.”

“The creatures of the night wear many skins.” Illuminatus looked down at the bodies and saw Bjorn’s body in the mix, while he was not too great of friends with Bjorn he was glad to see that he was doing fine.

Sophie soon started took be normal but the bodies will creeped her out and her hands were still trembling. “We need to get out of here, the police will be coming.”

Illuminatus shook his head “Don’t fret, I put a ward over this domain, the guardian’s of the law won’t be coming here, no sound will travel out of here.”

“Why would you need a ward…? Never mind. We need to get Bjorn somewhere safe” She started to put pressure Bjorn’s wounds and tried to stop the bleeding. Illuminatus nodded, lifted Bjorn’s body and headed down to the streets.

lord commissar klimino wrote:(wow, this is what a almost page transfers to? i feel ashamed to have written so little. )

“and so in conclusion,you will see a 20% increase in profit,and put several other chip companies out of business.” as clapping erupted, slender bowed and walked out. damn,only 20%? im loosing my touch... slender thought as he messed with his jaw. having a mouth was odd, and he still wasn’t used to it. As he headed for the exit,he nodded and said bye to his fellow workers. foolish humans,ill be gone tomorrow. his skin was almost out of time. Stepping out into the lights of las vegas,slender sighed. Humans never ceased to throw something new at him. When he had 1st come here,he had never expected some much lighting. Walking along,he looked around. Good, no one was watching. Quickly slipping into an ally,he straightened his tie. Pulling out his booklet,he checked the names on his list. What company would get his expertise this week? After think on it,he looked up and took another left. As he arrived at his good old home of an abandoned warehouse,slender smiled. Another thing he never understood. His mouth always wanted to show emotion when he wore skin.

Sitting down on an old recliner, he flicked the last bits of rotting flesh off his face. It felt good to be free again. Opening his booklet up again,he scanned I one last time. Smiling he closed it and put it up. A butcher company CEO. Now this would be fun. Slipping out and into the shadows, he climbed up onto the roofs. Jumping from building to building,he was thankful and annoyed at the signs. One second they hid him,the next they made threw him into a spotlight. Arriving at his targets house, he jumped down int the alley,scaring a hobo out of his wits.

“shhhhh...” he said to the poor human,who wet himself and fainted. He waited,and waited,until slender saw poor old charles walk out for his nightly walk. “hey, ~charles!~” he called out in a whisper. Charles stopped,and turned. When he saw slender,his eye went wide. Quick as any predator,slender shot out his arms and pulled charles into the shadows. “shhh....” he whispered,holding his mouth closed as he plunged his fingers into the mans gut. Charles tried to scream,but couldn’t. Within half a minute it was over. Straightening his tie, slender,no,charles now, picked up the slouchy remains and climbed up back to the roofs. After taking everything he would need to be charles,he headed back to the warehouse. Walking in,he smiled. Damnit,he needed to learn how to stop that. Throwing the remains into the furnace, he sat down, and took out his booklet. With another annoying smile,he eased charles name from the list. Putting up the booklet again,he took up his book sitting on the stand next to him. He still had 30 minutes before charles had to be home,so why not read? After a few pages,he giggled. Another human thing. “this person is a horrible biologist. Vampires dont sparkle. Silly human must of studied sweaty Dhampyre.” nodding,he closed it and threw it in the furnace. “one day I shall find that author and eat them. The world would thank me for killing such a fool.” standing up,he brushed off his shoulders. “well charles,your wife is waiting,and your girls need tucking in. shall we go?” laughing, slender,no,charles, headed out.

I liked it. The part about a waiting wife and children that need tucking in creeped me out.

darksage wrote: I liked it. The part about a waiting wife and children that need tucking in creeped me out.

hey thanks! and hey,if he is too live as charles,he needs to know all the..details.

Player: Chowderhead
Character: Musater
Race/Affiliation: Nrajah, All ties have been severed.
Physical Description: 6’6”, wears a suit everywhere he goes, He is missing his ring and pink on his left hand, and is covered by scars and still healing wounds. Ancient Tattoos of a long lost land cover his back and shoulders.
Equipment: Esmerella’s .45 caliber beast, “The Widowmaker”, a M4 carbine w/ strobe light attachment, wooden ammunition, a wallet containing the fortune of a thousand plundered cities, machete strapped to his thigh.
Backstory: Born in 1383, Musater was placed into this world in a small village in the deep woods of Transylvania. When he was in his 30s, his sister got lost in the deep woods. When he went after her, he found her dead on the forest floor, a few weeks after she left. Whilst carrying her corpse back to their village,, she re-animated, and bit her brother before running off. Stumbling around in the woods, he began to black out. When he awoke, he was stronger, taller, and had a lust for the flesh of his former kin. He was the son of the Lycan King’s brother, Longar. With his sister and his “father”, he would become one of the world’s greatest assassins and influence nations, continents, and even planets with his kills. While living in Prague, he received a package in the mail. His sister's head. As the newly elected Mayor of Prague's assistant (Thanks to his very powerful ties with his fellow Lycaelons), he has begun a secret war against the people who killed his sister. This war, however, led him to some horrific discoveries of both himself and of the world around him. He went on some search and capture missions for Natasha, but after completing them, he went rogue, killing Natasha’s highest general with two silver bullets to the head. Using a Pureblood as bait, he tried to lure out more of Natasha’s men so he could get answers. However, the plan went horribly wrong, and the kidnapped Pure Blood escaped, and his wife died. With no-one to turn to but his recently summoned Father, he broke down. That breakdown was interrupted when the God of the Hunt, Cernunnos, came and whisked him away. He planted him into an area full of Wolves and hunters alike, and told him to make allies before the impending war. Musater agreed, and made allies with Dez, Carl, Harlow, and Holly. They tried to get hunters to help them, but they would not join them. At the time of the final battle, he gave Dez, Carl, Harlow, and Holly the keys to the armoury and to a MRAP, a mighty armoured car. After they left, Longar and Musater flew around the world, in search of old allies. They only found piles of bodies and skeletons in long-forgotten graves. Having no-where else to turn to, they decided to find the last ally they had.

Vice: Ira
Virtue: Temperantia

Primary Safehouse: Nowhere. Nowhere is safe.
Primary Vehicle: His feet, and things he steals.

Special Rules: Musater always has an even head, and as such, he can always control when he changes into a Wolf.






Character King Longar the Mighty-Fanged, the King of all of the Lycans, Master of the Hunt, Warlord of the North, Slaughterer of the Trankas, Hunter of the Vile
Race and clan/archetype : Hyperiona (The Royal Family), All ties cut.
Physical Description: 9'8, Ancient Viking Warrior Garb.
Equipment: 10 Throwing Axes, Hand Axe (Silver) and Sword (Steel)
Backstory: Born somewhere in an icy wilderness, the brother of the Heir to the throne of the Lycans, he was always fighting to stay somewhat in power. Whnen he would kill a hundred vile Kindred, his brother would always kill twice fold. When he left to go to greener pastures, he found a young woman wandering the woods. He turned her, and took her under his wing. When he found her brother, he turned him as well. The three hunted as a pack for hundreds of years. They would take down "Rogue Elements" in the world of the Kindred and the Lycan. Many of the high profile kills were preformed by the three over the past few hundred years, until around the 1800's. When Longar got word of the massacre, he left the siblings to go deal with the rest of his family. He got trapped in a cursed cabin known as Pandora's Box by a Succubus, where the ale always flowing, and he never wanted to leave. He was pulled from the prison by an accidental messenger, and was sent back to his only child, the rebellious Musater, one of the assassins. Together, they have spent the last year searching for old allies and lost friends. All, however, were either dead or mad. There was only one person they could go to, and unfortunately, she was in a very Crooked place...

Other info: His emotions are somehow very exaggerated and somehow are able to influence the world around him. When he laughs, the area around him becomes brighter and seems more happy. When he is angered, the area around him is darker, colder, and more terrifying.

Virtue- Lovable oaf: It is impossible to hate Longar. His most hated enemies even have a soft spot for the old timer.

Vice- Paw over Hand: Longar feels more comfortable in his towering wolf form than his human form, and he changes as some of the most inopportune times. Like lunch.

WS:10 BS:0 (3) S:8 T:8 A:4 I:5 Sv: 3+ Ld 10

Special Rules:
Warlord of the North: Due to the sheer amount of time he has spent as a wolf in the blizzards, he has gained an almost blind sight. He is never affected by sight modifiers.
Trigger? Can't I just throw it at him?: Longar hasn't yet learned how to operate modern firearms, and shows no motivation to. He may never use a gun, only throw hand weapons.

Notes: Longar is a bit on the mad side, so when RP'ing him, he seems to always be in a good mood. Bear that in mind. When he heads off to battle, he goes into a Berzerker rage, and kills everything he sees, aside from members of his own party, and allies parties. Civilians, kids, grandmas walking across the street, doesn't matter. Hand axe to the face!







Character: Fenrir
Class: Arch Mage
Faction: Prodigy
Schools: Umbra
Physical Description: About 5' 2", Black Hair, hands have been stained a mild shade of red.
Equipment: Shotgun, 30 slugs, 15 buckshot, and whatever she can scavenge from her kills.
Backstory: Born into a family of morticians, she became obsessed with cadavers. The shape, the feel, the study of the corpses occupied all her spare time. She didn't need friends. She had the basement full of bodies. Of course, spending every free moment of your life in a stuffy room filled with corpses isn't great for one's sanity. At the age of 14, she snapped, went mad, and added another friend to her basement of fellows. Sooner or later, she had a few more friends. The friends where from all over. India, Turkey, China, even one from Australia! How cool is that! The New Zealander would get jealous, and the two would have fights. She would stop them, of course, but they would always argue. Then, she would talk to her parents. Oh how lovely they looked, lying on the metal beds, necks open. She had dissected them over a hundred times, and could tell her mother's spleen from her fathers. She would brag about this to the Chinaman, who would always compliment her. Then she met the Norseman.

He was possessed by the son of the Trickster God, Loki. He told her she could get more friends if she asked him for help. She asked how, and he said he only needed a single kiss. The two embraced, a disturbed 16 year old, and God. The switch was complete before the little girl noticed. With a fresh new body, Fenrir could continue living. He would survive until the Ragnarok, when he would destroy the world. Before then, however, he can only use the charms and spells he stole from Odin. Oh, the spells. How he loved them.

The police would notice, and eventually, they would arrest the girl. It would be a media firestorm, but Fenrir didn't care. He would survive. Thrown away into a cell with armed guards everywhere was nothing. He would outlive them all. His plans, however, took a change to the better when a couple of men helped him out. He signed a paper saying he wouldn't hurt them. He meant it. They were wolves like him. However, he had a very large advantage over them.

His deaths were only a minor delay. Theirs would be a stop.

Other Info: Fenrir always refers to himself in the masculine, even though he is in a feminine body. He has no fear, and cares little for those who aren't Longar and Musater.

Virtue: Mercy- He won't go around killing everyone. He knows their fates, and what he will do to them at the end times. He gives them the ability to live their lives.

Unless provoked, Fenrir won't kill anyone.

Vice: Sociopathic- Fenrir has a a pervasive pattern of disregard for, and violation of, the rights of others. In other words, he doesn't give a gak.

Arch Mage
WS-4/BS-4/S-4/T-4/W-2/I-5/A-2/Sv-3+/ MB + 6





That's all for now. Final NPC will come up, and then I will begin in earnest.

Name: Suzie Fletcher
Race: A vampyre of the house of Juli
Covenant: Unaligned
Appearance: 5’10” Thin, medium length Black Hair, In shape
Age: 27
Background: Suzie had led a normal life in Empire City for 23 years, nothing supernatural or extraordinary had ever happened to her, she had trained to be a beautician and succeed. She had her job and like jogging and partying with her friends at the weekend. That was until she was snatched by something on a night out. A creature burst from a sewer next to her and took, that creature was the Vampyre Longinus of House Juli, the Gladiator. He embraced and taught her about the secret war between her race and the Lycans, he taught her the skills to survive in Vampyric culture and society. She learned to be strong and how to fight, she became proficient with her house’s weapons and their methods. She helped his plans along with Isaac, a ghoul of her master’s. Eventually Longinus made a blind error and his plans crumbled where they stood, as a result Pontius the chief Vampyre had to take action. Harsh thought it was. Longinus lost his life for his actions, which where disrupted by Andy Bruss, head of the Empire City’s Hunter cell at the time. Suzie still blames him for the death of Longinus which he had inadvertently caused. In the end Suzie along with Isaac and another Companion fled to Prague where Suzie believed that she would find Juli, patron of her blood line and her grandsire. In Prague she did find what she sought, she entered the crooked house and continued to learn first hand about Vampyric society. When the attack on Natasha’s palace came to place she fought along side many of her kin, a Black Claw gave her a scar across her abdomen before she gutted him in return. When the fighting was over and open war declared she went back to Empire City to help assist the remaining Vampyres there and help them at least harry the Hunters that hold the rebuilding city.
Equipment: She now lives in a rented flat near the city centre of Empire City. She has her red Juli cloak along with a silvered spear and a shield hidden in her closet behind a false wall. She also carries a Saturday night special for “protection”. She still has a fair amount of money left from her grandaftehr
NPCs: None so far
Virtue: Diligence – since the events that have happened to her she seeks to keep to her task and not get distracted like she ahs in the past.
Vice: Wrath – If anyone harms her friends she will seek retriubution.
Blood Magyk: Crimson Mist,


Got onto thre internet at a hostel but am leaving in roughly 2 hours and won´t have access for another two weeks, enjoy it you guys

So Fitzz, how long has it been since the second Blood Moon?

Player: marmaduke

Character: Florence Rawson
Race/affiliation: Opriknikki no affiliation
Physical Description: male, no beard, age forgotten it’s been so long, 8ft tall, grey skin, ice blue eyes and crimson red hair, can usually be found wearing pants and that’s about it
Equipment: hands, switchblade and a steel suitcase lined with lead filled with drugs?

Backstory: been traveling the world killing stuff… what else is there to do. Flaws/Vice:
Annoying: title says it all just when you think it cant become any worse this guy makes it worse
Flaw: fond of all forms of alcohol


Virtues:
honor: ounce this vamp has taken a job it gets done. Afterwards though everything is fair game

Truthful: will never lie outright

Location/resources: las vegas

Vehicle: what is this death trap you speak of

halonachos wrote:So Fitzz, how long has it been since the second Blood Moon?

1 year bro

stepping out of the shadow of a building Florence looks at the moon

"what is going on with this world?"

"Where am I?"

covered in blood he looks looks around trying to figure out where he is .
behind him lies the remains of his last meal a human female...or well just her hands. blood splattered on the walls of the alley way

looking up at the moon he lets out a desperate cry of anger

with this he turns back into the alley and sulks away hoping for yet another victim anything to ease the pain of not knowing anything but his name

anything to stop the craving for blood and meat

he disappears into the dark and all that is heard is the shutting of a door and a muffled scream

darksage wrote:

halonachos wrote:So Fitzz, how long has it been since the second Blood Moon?

1 year bro

Only one? That sucks, hmm.... how did Andy end up owning all of Oregon in only one year. Oh and Fitzz, I'm sorry but Andy has to kill Natasha now.

halonachos wrote:

darksage wrote:

halonachos wrote:So Fitzz, how long has it been since the second Blood Moon?

1 year bro

Only one? That sucks, hmm.... how did Andy end up owning all of Oregon in only one year. Oh and Fitzz, I'm sorry but Andy has to kill Natasha now.

Not if I get to her first, mate.

Six Months Ago


"Musater. You can't get into there." Loanna sat down at the table. It was 3 AM, and Musater came home covered in blood. Again. The worst part was the stench. He smelled like death and fear. Not his, but his foes. It got everywhere, and they don't make enough febreeze to get rid of it.

"No one said I planned on it." He hung his jacket on the rack, blood soaked. Loosening his tie, he went to get a bottle of beer.

"Musater. Come on now, we all know what you were doing out there." She pointed to the blood covered Ski-Boots. He gave a smirk, and responded.

"I stepped on a rabbit." He opened the bottle with his teeth, and took a swig.

"You stepped on a rabbit 6 times this month. And then you rolled around in the blood of..." She eyed his sanguine covered apparel. "12 rabbits. So, Musater, what were you doing."

He sat down at the table. Loanna sat down with him, grabbing herself another Shipyard. "I found him. The one who told me how to get in."

Her smirk faded as she realized the graveness of the situation. "You killed a Cross-Over?" She leaned back and took a swig. "Nice work. You've got a instant 30 million bounty on your head."

He smiled, and took another sip. He had been in Beverly for a few weeks now, with Longar searching for Ingone over in Italy. He was probably dead, but he was the last one they could turn to besides her. Musater had been searching for a method to enter the Crooked World, and had found one. His name was Sergio, and he was 28.

**********


The sound of the bone crunching filled the port at night. Sergio Antones was already bleeding from the stakes in his arms, pinning him to the mast of an old Schooner. He felt his ribs shatter as the man kicked him again. His boots, made for skis, were heavy. They impacted his chest at speeds faster than he could imagine. Serigio tried to scream, but he couldn't breathe.

"Mr. Sergio. You haven't answered my question." He lit a cigarette, his gimp hand flicking open the lighter. It showed a brief glimpse of his abductor. Tall, handsome, and without a glimmer of empathy in his eyes. This man was a professional, thought Sergio. He was trained by his father on how to deal with torturers, but the training ment nothing. He could hold his breath for minutes, had built up scar tissue around pressure points so that they weren't affected as much, and learned how to withstand cigar burns. Nothing, however, could have prepared him for what this man was doing to him. The stakes to pin him up were so painful when they went in, he passed out again from the pain. He was woken up by the breaking of his jawbone, via a pair of Ski boots.

"You haven't asked a question..." He talked, blood flowing from his mouth.

"I know." He smiled as he slammed Sergio in the testicles. The scream that he let out was not of this earth. It was a scream of unimaginable pain and suffering. "Now, I will ask the question. Besides the Crooked House, how does one get to your dimension?"

Sergio spit the blood in his mouth at his assailant. "Go feth yourself." Wiping the blood from his face, he smiled. He began to laugh, and doubled over in enjoyment. Sergio became scared, more then when he had been kidnapped by those rebel humans. At least they assured him he wouldn't die. He looked back down at the laughing man. He was gone. The laughing, however, continued. Sergio began to cry a bit, but stopped. You mustn't show weakness. It will only egg him on further.

"I have killed more people than days you have been alive. You think that holding out will stop you from telling me?" The voice was coming from everywhere, and somehow, nowhere. He couldn't pinpoint the location, and began to cry in earnest. He tried to stop, but failed.

The small flame of the lighter lit the room around him. The lighter was on the floor, no owner, no visible person who lit it. He recognized it, through blurry eyes, as his kindappers. That's when the growling began. It started as a slow rumble, but grew to a massive roar. That's when he noticed the eyes in the corner. They flickered with the movement of the lighter. The eyes, blood red, began to move closer and closer to Sergio. He began to pray to Cain, but to no avail. The wolf was right infront of him. 9 feet tall, and covered in dark brown fur. Sergio began to speak of what the wolf seeked, but he could only speak in tongues.

"The city of Neon and Shadows. Go down the Rabbit Hole and find Alice. Get her to make a White Rabbit, and you will enter our lands!" He screamed, blood spurting from his mouth and onto the Wolf.

But the wolf was gone. Instead, was the man who kidnapped him. More blood soaked him, and he was lighting the cigarette, a new one this time.

"Thanks. For your help, I'll kill you slowly." He cut a hole into the tarp above Sergio, and duct taped his mouth shut. "When the clock strikes 12, you will burn for your crimes against our world."

Sergio screamed through his gag. "What did I do?!?!?"

The man, with red eyes, turned around.

"You entered our lands." He tossed the cigarette on the ground, extinguishing the last light Sergio would ever see before the sun fried him.

Nice, will get my stuff together asap, and get posting. Might replace this post with my Character info at a later date.

Either way, glad to get going again.


edit -

Got pic up, but still working on intial posts and character sheets.





Well it wouldn't be right if I actually starting rping before page 5.

Just want to take a quick moment to say I'm happy to see all ( well most) of my Vets back...and also to welcome those of you who are new to the Blood Moon story...

I've got a lot of my usual craziness planned for everyone...and I hope everyone enjoys themselves...I know I will.

Oh joy. FITZZ is insane once again.

Also, I'm watching the Devil's Rejects for the first time on Monday.

(First OT post! Woo!)

It had been only a year, Andy lay on their bed sleeping after an early morning punishment for what he had done. Wendy stood in the doorway and frowned at the muddy foot prints that he had tracked in, but smirked when she saw that he hadn't even bothered to take the mud covered boots off before collapsing face forward on the bed. She would have yelled at him in normal circumstances, but she knew what he was doing early in the morning, well before the light of the sun had even begun to kiss the frost on the grass. It had been a year since he had become a wolf, and it had only been two months since she had. Their mostly happy life interrupted by an assassin sent after them, Wendy remembered her face well because she had been pinned against the floor by her and the wolf had turned human just to taunt her with actual human words. That was before Andy barged into the room with the silver platter Wendy's mother had given them as a wedding gift. Thinking back, she remembered how resourceful Andy was, he was wearing an oven mitt with a quiet farming scene on it on his left hand so he could hold the platter and not hurt himself. She remembered him clenching his teeth as he held the plate against the wolf's face and the screams, oh the screams... they stopped and were followed by a clattering of the platter in a sick, blackened mixture of the would be assassin's melted skin, brain, and whatever else a wolf had in their head. She remembered Andy asking if the kids were okay, she remembered nodding as Andy looked at the gaping hole in her stomach that began to stain the hard wood floor with her blood. She remembered Andy calling Claudius and telling him what happened. Then she remembered that it was Micheal's birthday today. She walked quietly into their room and towards their closet where presents wrapped in blues and greens hid under a heavy leather jacket. She carefully pulled them out, not wanting to wake neither Andy nor the twins sleeping in their cribs, and walked into the kitchen with them. Their new house was smaller than their old one, but it was "free" and large enough to accommodate a larger family. Claudius had wanted them to have six children, but seeing as though they were both werewolves now they were forbidden from having further children.


It didn't bother Wendy that much, being pregnant with two half werewolves had been incredibly uncomfortable and she thought that Claudius had done something to her like Pontius had in order for her to fulfill the quota they had been given. Andy said that Claudius denied doing anything and in fact was upset that Pontius had done something to her with Micheal because the magic could mess with the children. She returned her thoughts to the present and placed the presents on the table, the smell of fresh coffee was in the air and soon Andy would wake up, walk into the kitchen, give her a kiss, and grab a cup of coffee before they started talking. They were still quite happy though, Claudius had been a little more than helpful and almost seemed happy to help them out with their situation. He had moved them into a house in his compound, he had given them a monthly stipend still, he had given them a new life that was almost better than anything they could have ever hoped for. The one thing he didn't give them though was heating for the house, but then again none of the other human houses had heating either. Out of all the buildings only two of them had heating, the main mansion where Claudius and other vampires stayed and the stables where Claudius kept his cherished horses. But they had a fireplace, a space heater, and of course each other to keep themselves warm enough. A sharp knock on the door surprised Wendy, as she stood up and walked over to the door the hairs on the back of her neck stood up and she knew who it was. It was that bitch Claudia, never the less she was Claudius's daughter and she was obligated to answer, a twist of the door allowed the cold night air to blow into the house. Claudia stood there in her white zipper jacket, some sort of fashion item from France or something, "Yes mistress Claudia, how can I help you?" Wendy asked politely as Claudia made her way into the living room.

"Your husband, I need to speak to him." Claudia said as she looked at Wendy, "Immediately." she added angrily when she deemed Wendy to not be moving fast enough. Wendy walked into the hall and headed to their room, Claudia was always a bitch when she talked to the "employees" and more importantly it felt like death hung in the air around her at all times. She looked in the room and saw Andy sitting on the end of the bed, "I know, I know... she's here." he said groggily before standing up and stumbling towards the living room.

"Yeah, mistress, what's up?" Andy said while rubbing his eye, Claudia seemed to twitch in anger as Andy addressed her improperly.

"Why are the slaves not working the field?" Claudia demanded.

"Because there's about three feet of snow out there and more coming." Andy said with a yawn.

"So, just because it snows you can't do any other work?" Claudia demanded, "You will have them out there in thirty minutes doing your appointed tasks or else."

"Claudius gave me free reign to work the slaves as I see fit lady." Andy said, "I got four days worth of work done in two and I think everyone could use a break, its going to get bad out there."

"I don't care if my father gave you control over the field slaves," Claudia said angrily, "he didn't give you the right to dictate when they get a break."

"Well, we can't do anything today, how does that work for you?" Andy watched as Claudia ground her teeth in thought.

"I will tell my father, and I will see you removed." Claudia said, "Even if I have to do it myself one day, you will be gone."

"I wouldn't mind getting out of this place." Andy said with a smirk.

"I didn't mean you would be leaving this place, I mean I would see you dead." Claudia spat.

"I would like to see you try to kill me." Andy said, the smirk still on his face, "How old are you, 100, 200?"

"I'm 22..." Claudia said before Andy chuckled.

"22? Wow, that's not much." he said dismissively. Claudia was clearly upset and took out a thin metal rod and hit Andy on the back of the knee with it, the rod stung and caused Andy to fall on the ground as his leg involuntarily bent. "You will have them on the field in thirty minutes or I will have Wilhelm come for you. And if the next words that come out of your mouth are anything but "Yes Ma'am" I will personally see to it that your family never leaves this compound for a solid month. Do you understand?"

"Yes ma'am." Andy said as he looked away and rubbed his leg.

"Good." Claudia said as she replaced the metal rod back into its sheath on the side of her boot. She turned away and walked out to a small kart and was driven back towards the mansion along the private road.

Thirty minutes later Claudia watched the humans trudging through the think snow as the automatic shutters began to close to keep the arriving sun light out of the mansion. She sat outside of her father's bedroom and waited for him to open the door in order to repeat what had happened earlier. She didn't have to wait long before Claudius walked out, stretching, towards his office. "Oh, good morning dear." he said cheerfully to Claudia.

"Father, I need to tell you about Andy Bruss." she said with an air of importance.

"What is it?"

"He threatened me." she said.

"What was the full context of the situation dear?" he said, stopping in his tracks.

"I told him that I would have him killed one day, even if I had to do it myself. Then he asked me my age and when I told him he laughed and said it wasn't much." she said with the anger of the moment fresh in her mind.

"Well dear, that's because you aren't much compared to what he's killed before." Claudius saw the look of hurt in her eyes, and only her eyes, "Oh, deary, I know you don't like criticism but its true. You're still incredibly young, younger than him and you don't stand a chance alone against him. So, how did you respond to it when he said it?"

"I hit him with the discipline rod." Claudia replied and saw Claudius frown.

"Why did you see him anyways dear?"

"Because the slaves weren't working like they should have been."

"That's because Andy got them to fulfill the majority of their tasks in two days and he asked and I said yes he could." Claudius said, "They aren't out there working now are they?"

"Yes father they are, I told him he had to get them working or his family would lose permission to leave the compound for a month." Claudia confessed.

"Get them back to their homes, there's a major storm heading this way and I don't want them to fall ill." Claudius supressed the anger he felt because he knew she was still learning how to manage an estate, "Claudia, you need to learn how to keep your slaves mostly happy."

"Why father, they're just humans and two lousy wolves." Claudia said.

"Have you ever heard of Spartacus?" Claudius said with a smile, "He was just someone's slave who led an army of slaves and defeated Roman legions, groups of well armored and well trained men."

"So are you afraid of them?"

"No dear, not afraid of revolt from them because I treat them well enough while keeping boundaries between us and them." Claudius smiled, "Its all a matter of balancing how well you treat them with how well you define their roles... besides I know Andy's weakness and that's his family. I take care of his family and he is grateful to me so I don't fear the idea of him raising a revolt against me and the other kindred here. So, send a ghoul to tell them to go back to their homes, and it's little Michael Bruss's birthday today."

"What does a slave's birthday have to do with anything?"

"Well, its always nice to get someone something on their birthday and you have to make amends for hitting Andy when you had no right to." Claudius said as he gave Claudia a hug, "He's just a slave, but you also went against my word and I don't like that so you need to be punished as well and I know how hard it is for you to sorry when you're wrong." he finished as he pulled away and held her at an arms length away for a few seconds before walking into his office.

Claudia's shoulders slumped, she never thought that she would ever be punished for going against her father's orders by getting a toddler a present.

Chowderhead wrote:Oh joy. FITZZ is insane once again.

Also, I'm watching the Devil's Rejects for the first time on Monday.

(First OT post! Woo!)

..What do ya mean again?...My insanity is like a roller coaster Chowder...it goes up and goes down...but it's always a constant fixture.
...And, I can think of no better film than The Devils Rejects to place you in the proper frame of mind for what's coming in this RP...

I can promise all of you...the brutality of the previous Blood Moon chapters will pale in comparision to what I have in mind for this one...

Oh god. Claudia's like a Female Musater, but somehow crazier.

.... Eric Cole let out a fatigued grunt and tried to focus on entering the newly compiled data into the Networks main files...
" Newly compiled data" Cole thought angrily to himself, shaking his head to clear the swimming spots as he banged the keys of his computer " same exact results as last time...a big fat nothing"
He leaned back from his desk rubbing his eyes, he'd been in charge of Project 66...project "Hellsgate" for a year now, and even now...he still wasn't sure what it was the Network hoped to accomplish..well...other than opening this " portal" this doorway into another realm.
Hell if Cole was to believe half of the gathered inteligence about what was on the other side ...he'd just as soon that " doorway" stay shut...permenatly.., the Lycans the Network had interogated a year ago had , under great direst, told stories of a " Vampire world"...a world that even then would occasionaly open up...spilling nameless horrors into this world...the Lycans had warned the agents who'd questioned them not to delve into attempting to " cross over"...and that's exactly what the Network turned around and did..
..Oh..there had been objections, Kraub himself had protested vehemently against , as he put it, " Inviting the devil into ones home"...but the Network heads had pushed it forward...and now here he was...on an isolated moutain..trying to do god knew what.
Cole didn't know for sure if there was a " vampire world" behind this...doorway...but there were surely Blood drinkers there...and powerful ones.
The Networks first attempt at opening the "gates" had resulted in...something...killing a dozen Djinn...and killing the so rapidly that even though Cole himself had reviewed the video over a hundred times...even frame by frame...the creature which had come out of that portal was still just a blur...a pale fanged shape...moving to fast for the eye to see..
Cole sighed again and returned to his keyboard...his unease growing..." Yeah.." he whispered as he typed " Network sanctioned or not...this is probably a really fething bad idea.."
He finished entering the results of the nights testing and lifted himself from his seat...staring out of his window again he muttered to himself once more..." Really bad idea.."

Upon opening the door , exhausted Florence falls to the floor.

A red veil covers his eyes. ARRGGGHHH he yells as he punches his fist through the floor.

Dam it. Lost control…

Looking around he takes in the apartment ounce again. Bare walls with the plaster falling off. A sofa that has springs sticking out of and a moldy old mattress with a steel suitcase at its head.

“Fething beautiful” he says.

Going over and sitting down on the mattress he opens the suitcase. Inside it is stocked with bags of morphine several bags of heroin and marijuana and finally underneath it all a picture.

A simple photo with himself and a young women in some sort of studio. The background was fuzzy but the two of the perfectly in focus. Her long black hair and his red. Her standing tall yet barley reaching his shoulder. Her pale white skin glowing with an unnatural iridescent beauty. The short red dress she was wearing and the tux clearly stretched over his massive frame. Her green eyes.

Putting the photo back in the case and closing it, Florence notices that he is crying.

“Who is that women?”
“Where did she come from?”
“What is going on?”

Curling up in a ball Florence falls into a fitful sleep haunted by those green eyes.

It had taken ten minutes for a ghoul to run out into the now blowing snow to tell Andy that he could send the slaves back into their homes for the day. The cold wind bit into him as he held his coat around him, he could see the slaves shoveling snow from the fields surrounding the house. He saw a figure standing near two sitting ones and decided to walk over to them to ask where he could find Andy, upon approach he saw that the two men that were sitting had their hands under their arm pits while the other one stood watch over them, a balaclava covering most of his face. The standing man wasn't shivering like the others, or even like how the ghoul was, "Slave, where's Bruss?" he said loudly to get his attention. The man turned and pulled the bottom of the mask below his mouth, "You're speaking to him."

The ghoul looked at the man and wondered how he could stand the cold, "Well are you just going to stand there and waste my time?" Andy asked the ghoul who remembered what he was supposed to say.

"Claudius says that you can take the slaves back in." he said before looking at the two sitting men, "Why aren't they doing anything?"

"Beginning to get frostbite, gloves not made for cold." Andy replied before turning away and pulling out a walkies-talkie, "Frederich, tell field three and four to go home. I'll tell fields one and two.".





Minutes later Andy was sitting in his house, jacket, balaclava, and boots off and hanging above the tub to let the snow drip off. He sat in front of the TV watching some news while drinking coffee, sure enough they were talking about a blizzard hitting the area and Andy shook his head. Wendy sat next to him, her head on his shoulder also watching the same thing. "So that was something different, she told you to get out there and here you are... what happened?"

"She was wrong," Andy said, "Gregory and Philipe got frostbite because she had to put her nose somewhere it doesn't belong. She thinks she owns us already.".

"Doesn't she kind of own us though?" Wendy asked.

"feth no," Andy said as he rubbed Wendy's arm, "she doesn't own us until Claudius is gone, and until then I'll follow his rules.". Andy readjusted himself, "To tell the truth, this is a pretty easy gig.".

Wendy looked at him, she could tell that he didn't love what was going on now, but she did now that he was willing to accept it as long as Claudius gave them everything he offered and seeing as though neither of them had eaten any of their kids it was a good sign. The first week they were there Claudius had made Andy head of the field slaves and put full responsibility of their results in his hands and Andy had performed incredibly well, not only meeting the goals given to him for the day but finishing weekly jobs one or two days early depending on how hard he wanted to work them. Andy had easily acclimated to his new line of work, but he felt that there was something missing, that something was true freedom. He wanted to be completely free, but that meant putting his family in greater harm.

"Do you really feel that way still?" Wendy asked him, "You get whipped every month for doing things before you were a slave.".

"It keeps us safe Wendy." Andy said with a smile as he set the coffee on an end table and sat up straight, "Besides, I'm doing the same thing I did for the network so I don't have to change my talents at all.".

"Smalls said that he liked working for Pontius and them, is that what you're saying?" Wendy asked with a small smile.

"You keep saying that, Smalls was a little bastard who did it for gold, and his own personal gain. Hopefully he's eating gak in hell as we speak!" Andy said loudly, Wendy enjoyed riling him up for some reason it made him seem tougher and more appealing to her. Ever since she had been turned she enjoyed seeing him angry and he knew it and enjoyed going along with it like a game. However Andy had gotten a little carried away and soon crying could be heard coming from their room, "gak, woke them up." Andy said as Wendy stood up and began to walk towards their room. "Don't worry Andy, we'll carry on with this later tonight." she said with a wink before disappearing into the room and then reappearing with the twins in the doorway. "Which one do you want, Vegas or Sven?" she asked.

"I guess Sven," Andy said as Wendy handed the infant over to him, "this isn't creepy right?"

"What, naming your son after the guy who killed his vampire mom or naming your daughter after the werewolf who turned you into one?" Wendy asked.

"Well," Andy began, "they..."

"I know they did a lot for us, and yeah its kind of weird because we knew them, but its a nice thing I think."

"Well, that's why they have middle names I guess." Andy said with a shrug and sat back down as Wendy got some bottles from the fridge to warm them up on the stove in a pot of water. It was still early in the morning, but they had already made their plans for the night and Andy looked down at his son with a smile. "You're going to be a little trouble maker aren't you?" he asked, "That's what your mom says anyways, but I think that might be because you're named after a certain someone.". The child blew a spit bubble seemingly in acknowledgement, Andy chuckled before being handed a warmed bottle. Carefully he shifted little Sven to his right arm and held the bottle with his left as the child greedily sucked down the liquid within. They never had any trouble eating and to Andy and Wendy it was a small blessing, they were good kids so far and it was a shame they were already slaves too.

As slender charles walked into his house,his wife walked up and kissed him. “you need to stop these walks,one day somethings gonna happen dear.” he gave a laugh.

“oh dear,you dont need to worry. Hows sophie and dany?” he asked as he walked into the living room and sat down,fixing his tie.

“asleep. And why you dressed so fancy dear? Seems odd to take a walk dressed like that.” luckily slender knew how to answer this.

With a smile,he said” I have a presentation tomorrow,so I must have just been thinking about it.” he turned on the TV,charles liked TV a lot. His wife brianna came over and started giving him a massage. Humans. Why so physical?

“oh dear,im sure you'll do fine. It cant be that hard to sell meat.” well its fun to try. he thought,a smile coming to his lips. It gave him an odd giddy feeling. “your kinda tense dear.” she leaned down and kissed his cheek. “im sure I can help with that.” slender had an inner conflict. Charles would gladly do it,but slender found the act vile. He thought of an excuse.

“try asking me once this presentation is done and off my mind.” his wife sighed,and let go,a faint smile on her lips.

“thats my charles,always trying to do his best,worrying he wont when he knows he will.” turning,she started walking off. “good night dear.”

“good night.” as she left,charles sighed. too close. Way too close. he thought,biting his lower lip. Mouths,so odd. After an hour or so,he took out his booklet and went over his plans. If it was accepted, meat man corps. Would become the only meat in las vega,and become a meat empire within 5 years. He smiled. His work,charles work. But charles wasn’t so smart. He didn’t have 300 years behind him like slender von maun. After sitting still for several hours,slender stood up. Showtime. Heading out the door,he gave a smile. He would enjoy this house,he hadn’t been a family guy in over 10 years.

As he arrived at work,he was greeted with nods and hellos. He gave some back. Entering the meeting room,he said his good mornings to all the hot shots sitting down.

“well then,lets get started.” he smiled. As he talked, he saw them gain more and more interest. As he talked about packaging and cheaper,more affective feed, he saw them smile,saw them growing hungry for the money this would bring. He felt their greed growing like a fire being fed. It was amazing just how greedy humans were. 310 years and he still didnt understand it. “and so, not only will you drive out any and all competition,but you will see a 40-56% increase in profit.” clapping erupted,people stood,and others shook his hand. Funny,3 hours of just talking made so many happy. “thank you.” he said to one of the hand touchy men. As he left the room,he straightened his tie. He loved his work. Seeing humans made him happy. Seeing how they react,how they think. So much more interesting than his damn kindred brothers. Their petty war with the wolves only got in slenders way. He had had to quit experiments many a time to slip away noticed,and it drove him mad. After a quick meal of a hobo,and a burning of the corpse,he entered his home. 2 preteen girls tackled him with love,throwing him to the ground.

“hi dad!” blond. Blond was sophie.

“hi sophie,hi dany!” he kissed both their heads,as was charles way.” guess what? Daddys getting a raise,a big raise.”

London: England
The rain pounded down onto the street as figures hurried about, A few stopped and went about their business. Carr headlights cut through the murk as vehicles passed.
One Large, Military looking vehicle, reminiscent of a Humvee painted in dark camouflage colors passed.
Not many people knew that a ‘crime’ was being committed only a few feet away and inside the van.
Inside the van was a veritable paramilitary fortress, in the back, several boxes of ammunition were stacked, as was a small cot with a bound and gagged man tied to it. The man was of a medium build with blonde hair and a black suit and tie, he had been relived of a miniature pistol which was now pointed at his head.
“That’s the second time this month. The Leeches are getting persistent.” Said the man who had the gun to the prisoner’s head, a short Hispanic fellow with a bit of a new Yorker’s accent.
“I know, we gotta bug outta here.” Said the man in the drivers seat. he looked fairly young, jus out of his teens, these features were covered at the moment by a wide-brimmed fedora. His eyes were glued to the road.
“aright, fine. but this time we have to cover our tracks, I don’t want that business in Singapore to happened all over again.”
The driver waved a hand vaguely, “Don’t worry, we have most of the contingencies covered.”
The Hispanic man looked unsure. “That’s what you said last time.”
The roads turned into country lanes and grasslands, farms dotting the rainy night. “Well who would have thought they would have set a morlock on us? Not me.”
The other glanced at the terrified man in the cot and gave him a kick. “I guess.” He muttered.
After a while of driving, the vehicle pulled into a windswept moor and stopped some miles off of the road.
The back door opened and the man in the cot was shoved roughly out by his captors.
The driver pulled a pistol from the fold s of his coat and shoved it against the prisoner’s head, he removed the gag.
“Say ‘Aaaah’” said the gunman.
The prisoner opened his mouth and a light was shined inside.
After a moment of inspection the gunman shook his head in disgust. “Ghoul.” He said.
“That’s all?” asked the Hispanic man, pulling his coat tighter around him to keep out the rain. “Pitiful.” he muttered as he walked back to the car and rummaged around in the trunk.
“Any last words?” asked the gunman.
The terrified ghoul was stuck mute with terror; it merely stared at the pistol.
“I’ll take that as a no.” said the gunman, and pulled the trigger. With a bang and a flash, the victim ragdolled into the air and crashed down into the mud, the gunman turned away from the corpse at his feet, pulled the fedora lower over his eyes and called out to the Hispanic man. “Ruiz, you got what we need?”
“Yeah.” Muttered the Hispanic man, several chain links, some chicken wire and a cinderblock in his hands as he carried them over.
It took a few minutes to truss the corpse up and wrap it I the wire, tie the cinderblock to it’s feet and drag it toward a nearby river.
One splash later, the pair of men reentered the car and drove off towards the city again.

Mwahaha! I don't need to be first to be awesome!

Player: The Kaiser
Character Name: Atlas Mirage
Age: Unknown, but looks around 20.
Appearance: Almost exactly like Dez, but a little darker. He still has the charm, but he doesn’t have the spark on his face, or the aura of goodness, for people always know when they see him, that he has had a rough ride.
Personality: Very easy to change at the slightest notice. Can be very serious, and mainly goes around looking after number 1, but he definitely knows the difference between what’s right and what’s wrong.
Equipment: SPAS 12, regenerative aid potions, Desert Eagle.
Backstory: Atlas only now knows his true life story. He never belonged to this world; he was in another when he was born. In the other world, Vampires rule supreme, and he was born in secret, to a small pack of wolves, who just tried to live, unknown to the Vampire community. Eventually these wolves were found, and wiped them off the face of the earth. Atlas however, ran in the battle, for he was only a young pup, and would have made no difference to the battle. He ran, as far away as he could, on the run from the Vampires who had murdered his pack. One day they caught up, but he doesn’t remember anything else, except from a dark light consisting of shadows, and a thousand deaths in hell.
Other: He is the Crooked World version of Dez, but has only just found that out. Extremely versatile fighter.

Major NPC: Valentin Rusmanov
Age: ??? He estimates around 1900
Appearance: http://images.google.co.uk/imgres?q=Russian+businessman&hl=en&safe=active&biw=1024&bih=673&tbm=isch&tbnid=ygzURSDGqPaXeM:&imgrefurl=http://rt.com/news/businessman-stars/&docid=WO4PLA9Y3fiEYM&w=370&h=277&ei=xyyHTsq7Ec208QP749VC&zoom=1
Personality: Cold, arrogant, does not care about any other life than his own, he only saves somebody if he sees it will benefit him to.
Equipment: The Ripper(sword infused with dark magic’s), various magic potions.
Backstory: Valentin has had many different lives, but is most famously known (by those who know) for living the life of Jack the Ripper. Truth be told, he only did it because he was bored.
He is feared, and sometimes respected among many different people, but everybody knows his goals are certain, but his means are confused by many.
He lives in a town entirely populated by Vampires, and he owns it all, but most recently he has been called for help against his most annoying foe, the wolf Natasha, by somebody called Dez…
Other: Very intimidating (in battle)

Name: Dez Blue
Age: 20
Race/Affiliation: Werewolf/Lunar Brotherhood
Physical Description: Tall, handsome, spiky blonde hair, serious.
Equipment: Possesses a Desert Eagle and a SCAR-H Assault Rifle. Has a Vampire talisman. A silver cross pendant left from his father.
Backstory: His parents were killed when he was 10 years old by "unknown forces" when he was out with a friend. He mourned for ages. And he was left to live with his uncle. His uncle taught him about the Werewolves and Vampires that roam this world when he came of age, and was ready to learn about the harsh truths, and that it was his duty to defend the city against them. He accepted this duty with great pride. One day, he found a young homeless woman on the street, and fell for her. Her name was Rachel. He brought her into his home, and she followed him to be a Hunter.
When he was called to aid the Hunters in Empire City, his life fell into pieces. When the Vampires attacked the Hunter farm when he was not around, they killed his dear Uncle, who was his only piece of family he had left. Then, later on, when he was helping Vegas in a fight against some Werewolves, one managed to bite him in the leg, and he was turned. Vegas didn't have the heart to kill him. He hopes that Vegas had told Rachel he was dead, as he didn't want her to know what he had now become.
Then he met Carl Johnson, the leader of the Lunar Brotherhood. They are a small collection of Werewolves who refuse to believe they are destined to be creatures of evil, and instead try to rid the world of evil forces, such as other Wolves, and Vampires. They are not allowed to harm humans of any kind, apart from corrupted and evil people, who they can feed on. He has now joined them, and he hopes for a better life. Though he cannot forget the events in Empire City.
In Prague, he learnt that Carl was actually his father, and also a Pureblood, which struck him hard. He fought many hard battles, lost Rachel, his father, and the Brotherhood was almost completely destroyed. He also found an mysterious ally in a wolf called Atlas, who he has only just found out is his Crooked World version. All this has happened, yet he fights on.
He goes on, only for one goal.
He must kill Natasha.
Other: Atlas’ double in the real world, but much lighter.

BIC:………..Light in the Darkness: part 1………………..

The raging waves battered against the unmoving rocks. Continuing the eon long struggle between earth and water. No emotion, no reason. Only the relentless battering of two opposites under an eternal night sky. On top of the centuries old land stood a long weathered tower. It seemed unnatural compared to the rest of the empty region. Grey moss thriving in the dark moist corners. The white and red bricks showing what it was used for a long time ago. A lighthouse. A beacon of hope for the men at sea. But no light had shone from the top since the darkness fell. Nevertheless, if one would have stood on the damp stones that very moment, they could have seen a small bright red dot hovering in the air.

Vegas leaned against the rusted leaning. Inhaling the precious smoke of the burning tobacco. The smoke burned in her weary lungs. Vegas was a young woman. In earlier times people would have said that she still had her whole life ahead of her. She would just have finished law school at Harvard. And would have a bright future with her desired partner. Her father and sister lovingly by her side. But if you glanced at her tattered clothes, her unwashed skinny body, brown hair sticking together and some even defying gravity. Then you would see that this wasn’t the future for her. No, long ago the Vampirii stole the future right out of everyone’s hands. The only future you had, was seeing how long you could survive.

Hot smoke slowly circled away from her dry lips, disappearing into the night. Vegas rubbed her pale hands together trying to reheat her numb fingers. The light had been gone for so long, that most of the people didn’t even remembered how it used to be. Too see vibrant colours jumping through breathtaking forests. To see wildlife stalking through the grass, playing by the rules of nature. Now, everything was dark, grey and brown. People were as pale as worms. Forests were no more than burial places of organic compounds. The few remaining animals as hungry as their owners. The world was a destroyed lifeless dessert, inhabited by things of fairytales and incomprehensible madness. There was no point in remembering how it used to be. There was no solution to be found in history. But Vegas liked to imagine the past, no matter how much pain she felt when her eyes opened once again.

And sometimes she would dream about things that didn’t happened. These dreams started happening a year ago. Ever since James had fished her out of the sea. At first they were weird and scarce. There was no coherent line in these dreams, just bits and pieces. Like a small infant throwing all his toys trough the room. But as the time carried on they became clearer and regular. She saw thing that weren’t real, and could never had happened. She discarded these dreams, thinking she was slowly going mad. And she wouldn’t be the first. Flashes of an old man beating his skull against a concrete wall, rampaged her memories. Constantly repeating the same thing. “there is always light in the darkness.” Vegas inhaled the last of the small cigarette, throwing the remains into the depth. Her dreams showed her a world of light, were people still laughed and danced. But they were just dreams, and the old man was wrong. Light had abandoned this world long ago. And soon the tobacco would follow, Vegas sorely thought as she glanced at her two remaining cigarettes.

The sound of static filled the air, destroying the soothing sound of the waves and wind. Vegas pulled the horn of the radio, this was what she had been waiting for. “Monk for Vegas….Please come in.” the voice said, barely hearable above the static. “Vegas, here.” She replied. “The train just left town.” Vegas smiled as she placed the horn back. “Matt, get ready to move out!” she shouted. A head appeared, hanging down from the roof. His scruffy cap falling onto the floor. “Did we receive the Call?” Matt asked, a soft smile lingering from his lips. Vegas regretted the fact that he was here. People who could smile where so rare these days. But he was the only one that knew something about radios. It was the only reason she hadn’t send him back, when they had met a few months back.

They found him cornered by two ghouls, Matt trying to defend himself with nothing but a brick clutched in his hands. His backpack thrown on the ground, transistors and wires scattered everywhere. He begged Vegas to take him in her group. He wanted to help, and his skills were convenient. Although Vegas wasn’t sure if she kept him around, just for his smile. A memory of what could have been.

Matt placed his cap back on his head, blond hair peeking out. His eyes filled with excitement. He placed the antenna, he had been holding up for the past two hours in its compartment. No complaint came over his tongue. He did everything, as long as he could help. The radio also quickly disappeared in his bloated backpack. “Ready.” He stated. “Well, lets get moving then.” She commanded as they started their run towards the rendez-vous point. Leaving the Lighthouse behind, to continue his lonely watch over the sea.

Hey, FITZZ! So, I had some spare time, and made an alternate Blood Moon Logo using Photoshop. Hopefully you like it.

@Chowder

That looks great.

edit: But you forgot to add: 'The' before 'Wages of sin'

Working on a post...

... got 837 words so far...

1 year, eh? That’s a lot of time to cover…

… oh well, I’ll try…

6 Months Ago

Atlas walked down a cold street, in the village of London, rain battering down on him. He pulled his coat across him to keep him covered; he didn’t really like the rain, which was absolutely perfect, him being In England.
He cursed quietly, but continued to walk down the road, away from his flat, and towards the outskirts of the city, to meet somebody. The guy’s name was Steve, and his research had shown him to be connected with Natasha, and that he used to be in her pack, but went rogue, and apparently she cared a lot. He must have been important for her to care so much.

Of course, all this information was from the Necromancer archives. Those damned people seem to know everything, but at least they shared it all, whereas Dez, he liked to keep quiet now, and kept to himself in his office, constantly searching for places where Natasha may be, and his research, coupled with the Necromancer archives, showed there to be a link to her here, in London. So they sent him to find out as much as he could, look around, find Steve, and that is what he had been doing. And this night, he’d finally be able to talk to him.

He cursed again, but kept on walking through the rain.

**************************************************************************************

“I said hold on, dammit! I’m almost there!” Steve moaned as he undid all the latches on his door, but hearing more banging, and returning angrily.

He was a rather plump man, with an unshaven face, and he was also going bald, but he was also rather muscular, although he never needed the muscles.

“Aww, feth you! Be patient you ass! I’m almost- Jesus!”

A gun had been put to his forehead as soon as the door had swung open, and he immediately regretted all that he had said.

“What? Are you MI5 or something!? Please! Just tell me what I did, I didn’t do anything! Promise! I promise!”

“Are you Steve Bachel?” the man in the black coat asked, almost without emotion.

“Uhh, yes. But I haven’t done anything wrong! I swear!” Steve answered, sweat dripping down his face.

The man put away the gun in his jacket immediately, and shook Steve’s hand, leaving him utterly shocked. He could see his face clearly now, and he was a rather handsome young man, blonde hair, spiked at the front, but also with a slightly darker presence, which Steve just could not quite place.

“Pleased to meet you, my name’s Atlas Mirage, we need to have a chat.”

Steve stood still, speechless, before returning to reality, and leading Atlas into the living room. He made them both a cup of tea, and sat down with Atlas, waiting for him to talk.

“Okay, Steve, before we start I would like to say that if you try any funny business, I’ll pull out my gun on you as fast as I put it in, you understand?” he asked, deadly serious.

“Yeah, of course,” Steve said, nodding his head in agreement.

“Good, I just wanted to establish that,” Atlas said, taking a cautious cup of his tea. “Now, I’m gonna ask you some questions, and I want you to answer truthfully. First, are you a Werewolf?”

Steve opened his mouth, aghast, before shaking out of it, literally, and replying.

“Um, yes. How do you know this?”

“I know a lot of things. Secondly, did you used to work for someone called Natasha? The Queen?”

“Yes, I was in her pack,” Steve answered, utterly confused. “But I don’t think she would like to see me again after I left. I was quite important at that time.”

“Good, good,” Atlas said coolly, giving himself time to take another sip of his tea. “And, thirdly, do you know where she is at the time?”

“No, I’m sorry, I don’t.”

“Then,” Atlas sighed, taking a huge gulp of his tea before standing up, and going to leave. “I am wasting my time here. Good day.”

“Wait!” Steve called, turning around, to look at him. “I want that bitch Queen to suffer as much as possible, that’s why I left, because she was a crazy bitch. If you are trying to get to her, I want to help as much as possible. I don’t know where She is, but I know somebody who probably will.”

“Probably?” Atlas asked, turning back.

“If she doesn’t, nobody does,” Steve admitted.

Atlas paused for a second, regarding what was just said, before smiling a dark smile.

“Excellent, let’s go.”

************************************************************************************

Atlas let Steve go to fetch his car, so he could bring it round the front of the house, to pick him up.
It was rather dark now, must’ve been around 12 at night, and Atlas was tired, but his instincts were still highly active.

“You know I can smell you Valentin, the pills don’t affect my senses you know,” he said loudly.

A figure appeared to his right, a man who looked to be in his late twenties, with a long black leather coat, and a Russian officer’s cap.

“Well, I suppose I can try,” he said with a slight Russian accent. “I thought about what would happen if I snuck up on you while I was mist, and the results were fantastic. Shame it didn’t work in real life, I suppose I should have just stayed as far back as possible.”

“So, Dez has got you spying on me now had he?”

“You can’t really blame him. These days are ones filled with treachery and betrayal, and he’s been through enough of it already.”

“As justified as it may be, I don’t appreciate it; I would rather you just stayed with me in person, not mist. Anyway, I could use the help and intimidation you offer.”

“Of course, you ask for my help and so I shall give it. As long as we reach the goal I desire,” Valentin said, moving forward, to stand right beside Atlas.

“We all share you goal, Valentin. You should have no worry of that.”

Then, as soon as the last word came out of Atlas’ mouth, a car appeared from beside the house, and came around to stop In front of them both. It wasn’t anything special, just a normal Honda which wasn’t too bad, but it would serve the purpose.
The window wound down, and Steve leant over to talk through it.

“Atlas, we’re ready to go, step in,” he said calmly, before noticing Valentin standing beside the young man. “And who’s this?”

“A friend,” Atlas replied, opening the door, and taking a seat in the car. “Let’s move.”

Heh, I was wondering exactly how you'd work out a Vampire/wolf alliance there Kais....not bad...not bad at all, seems they're less " friends" and more " we have a common enemy".

removed

( Natasha...before losing her eye)

... She had returned to the Keep barely 20 minutes ago and had been greeted by Mercer and a contingent of The Black Claw upon her arrival...
Mercer had voiced his concerns about her going off into the forest with out escort, but the Queen quickly dismissed his comments " If I am unable to venture out alone in my own territories Mercer...then I would be unfit to lead " She had replied.
The Black Claw officer had nodded, knowing that the Queen was more than a match for even a whole kill squad of leeches...after all...had she not lived for a thousand years?...and had she not spent most of that times locked in battle against the cursed blood suckers.

She now moved casualy through the keeps lower levels, frowning slightly at the sterility of the walls around her...though far more imppenatrable than any of her mansions, the fortress lacked any...personality...yes, that was the word...
It was simply a cold...impersonal facility...a structure of steel and thick concrette ...nothing more than a sprawling fortress against the multitude of dangers that lurked beyond the walls...
Natasha frowned...she was growing weary of playing a defensive game, for a year now...her people had remained cautious...striking out against the enemies of her kind ferociously on occasion..but by and large relying more on stealth than on claw..she admitted to her self that she would much prefer a full on fight...but for the protection of her kin and kind...she would continue to bide her time...continue to use her great cunning as well as her savegery to ensure her peoples existance..and eventual dominance ...she knew that now was the time for cunning...but oh...how she longed to once again face the king leech...to tear his arrogant heart from his cold dead body.

... She entered her personal chambers, smiling slightly at the more comfortable surroundings...slipping from her clothing she cast an eye toward Mia and Mya,, her twin consorts who lay dozing in the huge master bed..
" Time for ...enjoyments later" she thought as she moved to seat herself behind a huge antique oaken desk, delicately bringing her computer to life...
She still marveled at this technological wonder...why, with the stroke of a few keys...she could have access to information and knowledge that only a scant hundred years ago would have been almost unheard off for most..
The Queen smirked, " Stupid Cattle" she thought " They truly have no grasp off the world around them...so pathetic...so..self involved and short sighted"...she shook her head as her elegant fingers danced across the keys, pulling up her personal files...smiling at the reports she was reciving from those loyal to her from around the world...most of the dispatched traitor Carl's foolish " Brotherhood" had been hunted into oblivion...one last minor annoyance for her to concern herself with...which pleased her...as she had no time to bother swating at gnats when dealing with real enemies must be her primary concern...

She finished reading the reports and stood, stretching her muscular form and sighing,...again her gaze fell to the slumbering pair on her bed and...with a decadent smile...she slipped between the cool sheets.

EDIT:...And just because I know someone...sooner or later will ask...here are Mia and Mya...

Meh, not crazy about the photo, but it's the closest I could find ...if I come across anything more fitting I'll swap it out.

FITZZ wrote: Meh, not crazy about the photo, but it's the closest I could find ...if I come across anything more fitting I'll swap it out.

Yeah I wondered about that...I just tried to imagine the first pic of Natasha with an eyepatch or some sort of cloth around that eye...

do it in photoshop?

WARORK93 wrote:

FITZZ wrote: Meh, not crazy about the photo, but it's the closest I could find ...if I come across anything more fitting I'll swap it out.

Yeah I wondered about that...I just tried to imagine the first pic of Natasha with an eyepatch or some sort of cloth around that eye...

Something sort of like this...

FITZZ wrote:

Something sort of like this...

*gasp* natasha is a broken image! id never guess that!

lord commissar klimino wrote:

FITZZ wrote:

Something sort of like this...

*gasp* natasha is a broken image! id never guess that!

Hmm, The image shows up on my computer.

just open the image in a new tab.

works decently.

ineptus astartes wrote:just open the image in a new tab.

works decently.

did just that. dont like the look,but thats just my opinion.

EDIT: ah,he fixed it.

Player- Mordoskul
Character- Pontius of House Brutii
Race- Brutii (Dyybuk)
Coven- Court of the Crimson King
Physical Description- Pontius, like the rest of his race, is pale and attractive, with short dark hair. He has a strong Roman nose, and smells of oil.
Equipment- Pontius carries a gladius made of iron on his person at all times, as well as a garnet ring given to him by Cain himself shortly before his disappearance.
Backstory- Shortly after the reign of Caesar, Pontius was Embraced by the reborn Brutus himself, making him his Childe. After Brutus left this world for the World Tree, Pontius became a noble in what is today Germany, later fighting in the Crusades. During the Great War, Pontius fled to Africa, with many of his 'children', where he encountered the Obayifo, the Vampires of Africa. Pontius kept himself hidden for decades, gathering followers and assets in the American metropolis of Empire City. Bending the Kindred within the city to his will, Pontius became Empire City's Prince, ruling with an iron fist, executing those Vampires foolish enough to leave evidence of their meals. When the local lycanthropes began murdering the citizenry, Pontius took note, and began preparing for the inevitable conflict. Meeting in secret with Nero the Mad, the Roman planned his next move, gathering dark forces to his side for a brutal, but subtle war. Learning from his fellow Ancient that Rasputin the Sage was being held in the farm country surrounding Empire City, Pontius made haste to the small farmhouse. Questioning the Russian mystic, Pontius learned that the Sage had lied to him on the subject of Cain's return. In a legendary fury, Pontius dragged the sorcerer outside, where he was crucified on a post used for hanging scarecrows. Being of the Kindred, Rasputin would be unable to survive long in the glare of the sun, save for the fact that he wore the Amulet of Osiris, an artifact that regenerated flesh in the blink of an eye. Pontius intended for the Sage to suffer for weeks as his meat melted and swirled back together, eternally in a flux of gristle and bone. Leaving the farmhouse and taking the two Opriknikki guards with him, Pontius returned to his lair to plot. Later, one of his carriers was intercepted by the Cattle, forcing Pontius to retrieve the artifact she carried himself. Already hot from Rasputin's lies, the Ancient stalked into the Police Office, his choler up. The Roman tore the officer at the desk in twain, but fell short of retrieving the item he came for, returning to his sanctum smoldering with rage. For hours, the Roman dismembered thralls with his bare hands, drinking deep of their Vitae before creating gory works of art with their innards, which were later framed and hung with care. As a city-wide manhunt began for the murderers, Pontius called for Oliver Lane, the famed Blade of the Covens, who stole away into the Police Office and murdered the carrier and retrieved what his master had sought; the Blade of Ages, a kris forged by a race far older than the Humanii made to kill those of the blood of Cain. Days later, Detective Pinkerton came across the crucified form of Rasputin, whose screams caused one of the officers to madness. Pinkerton impaled the mewling man-meat with a spear of wood, placed him in the car, and drove off in search of his new allies. The allies in question were agents from the Network, sent to investigate the bizarre murders, which they correctly thought to by the work of werewolves. In the days that followed, a careless lycanthrope was caught on camera making a kill, the tape falling into the hands of Matthew Crossman, a reporter with no morality, who planned to sell the tape to the highest bidder. During what was later known as the Center, a four-way battle between werewolves, Network agents, police officers, and the servants of Pontius, each of whom sought to see the tape destroyed. In the end, the tape was destroyed, as werewolves led by Musatei tore Crossman apart. In the end, nearly all of the officers, both federal and state, lie dead or dying, with the animus of Pontius controlling Federal Agent Nash like a puppet of meat and bone. In the days that followed, Oliver killed over seven officers in the safety of their own homes, even going so far as to stroll into Pinkerton's house, leaving subtle clues to the intrusion. Later, the young lycanthrope known only as 'Atlas' killed Musatei in a bloody duel that saw them both dead, but left the Pack without an Alpha. Elsewhere, Lillith began to make her way to Empire City, an event that caused Pontius no small amount of worry. Competition was the last thing he needed at a time like this. As the days flowed on, the Ancient Longinus Embraced Pinkerton, trussed him like a prize hog, and dumped him in the front of the Police Station as a warning. Pontius was livid when this was revealed to him, and desperately attempted to pin the blame on the Network as Nash. The attempt failed, but bought Pontius enough time to prepare for the coming storm. Thanks to the actions of the Gladiator, the Cattle knew that the Kindred existed, something Pontius could not allow. Sending Oliver and the Opriknikki to execute the Ancient, the Roman was forced to quit the body of Nash when the Network stepped into the station with Vampire-slaying relics, returning to his base in the Ordo Dracul Chapter House. Longinus was killed, but at the cost of Oliver being sent into Slumber, nearly having his neck severed by the Gladiator's fangs. As the final pieces came together, Pontius ordered thralls to incite riots and start great fires, drowning Empire City in a tide of violence. Releasing a horde of Larvae onto the streets, the city soon became a slaughter house, with hundreds dead in the course of several days. However, Pontius and his servants were nowhere to be seen, having left North America for Prague, where they took residence in the reality-warping Crooked House, where the witch Black Anise showed them to an ornate room filled with the trappings of royalty. Seated on a great throne made of minute images of shrieking and fearful Humanii was non-other than Cain, Father of the Race of Vampyre. Working quickly to establish himself over the rest of the Kindred, Cain called for the ironic crucifixion of Judas Iscariot, who had ruled in his stead for over a thousand years, yet had abused his power and drove off Cain's supporters. Sending forth Tommy Rawhead to cause panic and terror, allowing Kindred agents to take control of Prague and the surrounding territory. However, Pontius was not the only one to flee to Prague, and Natasha, the Bitch Queen, and her ilk had already laid claim to the benighted city. Beyond the cursed lupines, the Network had arrived, along with Pontius' old enemy, Andy Bruss. Seeking to punish him for the damage he caused in Empire City, Pontius sent Smalls to capture his wife Wendy, and her unborn child. Oliver later contacted Andy, taunting him with their captive. Andy agreed to perform several Unspeakable Tasks in return for Wendy, the first of which was the crippling of the Lunar Brotherhood, a band of werewolves working in Humanity's best interests. The slaughter was tremendous, and many lupines were felled by silver rounds and blades. However, Miranda, the cell leader, was killed in the conflict, thus fulfilling the Second Task which called for her death. Satisfied, Oliver told Andy that the final task was at hand, and he was to take his cell to the Crooked House that night. Andy obliged, and that night, he stepped into the cursed place with his companions. The final task was simple enough, the removal of Andy's left hand. Severing the limb upon a white altar in Pontius' study, Andy witnessed his wife step from behind an alcove. Pontius had Embraced her, his final and most painful trick upon the mortal. The golem had been created just for this purpose, and as Wendy sank her fangs into the simulacra, it was destroyed, and Andy wailed in pain the psychic connection was severed. Pontius screamed in rage at the breaking of the deal, and entered a frenzy, charging downstairs to kill the damned Humanii. In the battle that followed, Pontius was slain, and his ashes interred within an urn. However, his mind remained very much alive. Within a day, Pontius had become a Dyybuk, a Kindred spirit that feeds off dreams. Possessing Father Nakizy, he led the Six Fingered Hand on a crusade against the Network, seeking to finally kill Bruss. As the boat bearing Bruss and his companions sailed into the distance, a powerful force slammed into Pontius, who was very nearly driven from the priest's body. The force was Sven, a powerful mage who perished in the Crooked House, and sought to avenge himself upon the Prince. The battle inside Nakizy's head was fierce, and Pontius was forced to flee or be destroyed. Now, he floats among the dreams of mortals, waiting for the chance to be born again.
Location/Resources- Pontius currently dwells within the Crooked House.
Virtue- Industria, Pontius plans in advance, ensuring that every factor is accounted for.
Vice- Superbia, Pontius vastly underestimates the Cattle, seeing them as far beneath his attention, a trait that may prove to be his downfall.
Other info- Pontius despises werewolves as degenerate savages, fit only for a bit of sport before disposing of them.
Spells- Master's Lure, Crimson Mist, Dyybuk abilities

as charles tucked in blond sophie and brown haired dany,he gave them a kiss on the head,as was charles way. Slender smile inside, having already learned a lot from this experiment. What he still didn’t understand,was that thing humans had. Love. As he walked out of the kids room,closing the door behind him,he kept thinking,trying to discover an explanation for it,but could find none. Sitting on the couch,he stared at the screen,which suddenly turned off. Suddenly,charles wife brianna sat next to him,and as he turned to look at her,she kissed him. It last about a minute. As she pulled away,she grabbed his arm and started leading him away against his will.

Slender layed there,thinking,with briannas arm around him and her breath hitting his neck. As he mentally saw it was time for work,he slipped out of the bed and got dressed. making sure his shoulders were dusted and his tie was straight,he headed out. He had plans for today. Flipping out charles phone,he called in saying he wouldn’t be at work today. Unsurprisingly they said it was fine. As he headed for his warehouse sweet warehouse, something caught his eye. A couple was kissing down the street. He watched,taking mental notes. When they stopped,he nodded and walked into the alley.

As he sat down in his chair,he said to nothing “physical. That’s what love is. They love to be physical and this 'love' allows them to touch.” nodding,he flipped open his booklet and scratches love off the mystery list. After checking over a few more note, he looked over his list. He had time,but the sooner he chose his next business life,the better. After some thought he shrugged and put up his booklet, and grabbed the portable DVD played next to him. As he was about to turn it on,he heard something outside. He listened. 3 men,one women. Hoodlum,was the name that came to mind. Outcasts, pests,etc. He didn’t care about them,but he didn’t want them around his home either. Stepping out of a window,he landed in front of them,which seemed to shock them...all except the female.

Bowing,he said “hello. Please leave of ill eat you.” they all stared at him,then laughed...except the female.

“no way dude,we claim this land for the 3s gang.” the punk guy pulled out a knife,and the other 2 picked up heavy blunt poles. “now scram suit.” now,slender didn’t get angry by much,but assaulting his suit was a bad idea. He lost his composer,eye showing his anger as he charged. One second he was a good 10 feet away,the next his hands were in the middle guys chest,sucking out his innards. He didn’t replace charles skin though,he still had experimenting to do with charles. As the guy fell over drained,the other 2 dropped their poles and ran screaming.

“wow! That was cool! What are you? How did you do that?” he turned. The female grabbed his hand and started examining it. Slender was dumb struck. Humans had never been happy when they saw what he was,they always either tried running in fear or tried to kill him. is this girl a kindred? he though,but quickly pushed the idea away. She would’ve killed him by now if she was. Pulling his hand away from her,he straightened his tie.

“im a totenmaske, hated by everything and loved by even less.” he turned,and started walking back inside,carrying his victim to burn. After trowing the remain in the furnace and sitting down,he looked up only to get the girls face an inch from his. He blinked. She smiled.

“your cool! Whats your name.” he sat for a minute. She was harmless,but odd.

Straightening his tie,he said “slender von maun,but currently charles. Now,may I ask why your still here and not running in fear?” he was really getting curious about this woman who showed no human thought process.

“cause why would I fear you? If you were going to kill me id be dead. Im sarah by the way.” slender smiled. He got an idea. An experiment. This girl was odd,and cold be useful to him.

“good to meet you sarah. Say,how would you like to learn about the underworld?” her eyes gleamed.

“id love too!”

Waking up the next morning was hell on earth. With aches all over his body and the haze returning to his eyes he knew he had to feed. Yet with the sun up this was not the best idea. Realizing that he was still soaked in the blood of his kill from two nights ago he decided to take a shower. Walking down the hall toward the communal shower in the abandon apartments he again marveled at the place. With the plaster that ounce might have been a sky blue going a sickly gak green and the floorboards all threatening to give out at any moment, he realized just how alone he truly was. He could go to the top of the building and do a nose dive into the cement and he doubted that anyone would find him. Consumed in this thoughts he was about to open the door to the, what ounce would have been a communal bathroom, when he heard a noise behind the door. Dropping to a crouch he silently stood, listening.

“Whoa man!!! There are unicorns on the ceiling man!!” Said the voice behind the door.

Slowly bending down further he put his eye to the keyhole and looked through. There on the floor of HIS bathroom sat some punk ass kid surrounded by needles and half empty bags of shrooms. With his unkempt black hair wearing nothing but a wife beater and pants, he lay against the bathtub making goggle eyes at the ceiling.

With a wicked grin Florence slowly opened the door and stepped into the bathroom.

“Whoa Man a Vampire riding a unicorn… this is one fethed up trip.” Could be heard through the door as it swung shut.

Click went the door as it closed. Then the tearing of human flesh and the spray of blood cascading out of a body was barley heard over the tortured screams of pain coming fro this boy. Then a sharp crack and all went silent ounce again.

FITZZ wrote: Heh, I was wondering exactly how you'd work out a Vampire/wolf alliance there Kais....not bad...not bad at all, seems they're less " friends" and more " we have a common enemy".

Why, thank you kind sir, I do try...

... so yeah, they may have a joke with eachother, but they are not really friends, just allies, as they do not particularly like eachother, they just feel as if there can be advantages of working together to take down Natasha...

Alex grumbled to himself as he started the car. It wasn't that he was unhappy, not really, he just had a neutral outlook when it came to things like this, it didn't help that Harlow tried to turn these missions into field trips, acting as if the entire thing was all for sport. Alex stopped himself there as the convoy rolled out into the streets. He realized, not for the first or last time, that Harlow did view these missions as sport, as fun, Alex found that unprofessional but the man's track record spoke for itself. That didn't mean Alex had to like it and he usually did let Harlow know how he felt when he did speak. But it was no matter, the older wolf treated it like another game.

That train of thought made Alex think about his and Harlow's own working relationship, his life hadn't been the same since he'd met Harlow a year ago. No, ever since then it had been something more than it had been before, and in the end, that's all Alex really wanted. So what if he was stoic? That was just who he was. Alex smirked a bit as he remembered one of the things the older wolf liked to tell him.

"You remind me a lot of myself before I met ya; wound up, uptight, overly paranoid. Loosen up, this is the only life ya got, live it."

Of course Harlow was a man of few words himself but Alex rarely spoke and he really didn't see a problem with that. It was then that Harlow's last words echoed in his mind

"How's it feel to have finished something you started?"

He sighed and looked to the heavy briefcase sitting next to him in the passenger seat of his Mustang. The case was still locked, just like the day he'd found it, he thought it astounding that no being had yet been able to open the thing yet, it was unpickable, nigh on indestructible, anything that would be powerful enough to open it without the key or whatever was needed to unlock it would undoubtedly destroy its contents which Alex had no idea what was inside it. He knew it had to be important though, he knew it had to be deadly important, dozens of men had fought over it, more had died. Hell, it was the first time he'd seen the thing in a year...

-------------------

Chicago, a year earlier...

Harlow had been moving around a lot, ever since he had joined Natasha's private army he'd been busy and that wasn't something he disliked. It had been a pleasant surprise to learn that after the battle at the mansion, the queen's resources were still nearly unlimited which Harlow figured shouldn't come as a surprise but it was still good to know he was batting for a team that had things going for it. The past couple of weeks had been spent gathering intel and doing general shadow work, something Harlow excelled at because of his past experience in it. Because of that specialty, Harlow had carved his own niche into the Queen's forces, becoming the director of her eyes and ears so to speak...

And today, or should he say tonight as the sun had already fallen, he and a pack of the Queen's men had been dispatched to investigate a tip from an informant about a possible gathering of Kindred or at least some of their ghoul stooges. Harlow throttled his bike and the SUV followed him down the brightly lit streets of the city where people still walked along the sides. The rendezvous point was a bar in the housing district across the city, Harlow supposed it would be quiet enough around those parts this late at night but he knew if things went ass end up his team would have to make a quick getaway and he expected them to go that way because he had good sources that told him what he was dealing with. He looked around the city as he drove through it; he realized that this was the first time he'd been in the city since that one visit with a man named Alexander more than a hundred years ago. Man how time flew was all he could think...

He had the team park the vehicles in a lot behind the bar so as not to raise suspicion. As soon as all five of them had gathered together, weapons in hand, Harlow told them what was going to happen.

"Easy stuff, go in, kill anything that smells like death, clean up, leave, questions?" He asked sternly.

"How do you know who's in there?" One of the wolves asked.

"Intel, got a tip from an informant." Harlow replied.

"Yeah, and where'd the informant get the intel eh?" Another wolf asked. Harlow scowled, he had been here for just a few weeks and he was leading this gig. Needless to say, some of the wolves under Natasha who had been here for years and were now subject to his command were a bit miffed...

Let em suck it up was Harlow's opinion. Harlow lowered his head and bared his teeth ever so slightly, his own personal way to show displeasure or thinly veiled anger.

"Do I need to tell her majesty that you refused to do her bidding?" He asked lowly, that shut up the naysayers quickly. Harlow spat in satisfaction. "Right then, you two take the back entrance, the rest go in the front, lets shake it." Harlow said and turned to go into the bar.

The two teams split up, Harlow approached the front door of the small brick building with his hand on his revolver as he reached the door he looked about a bit...and hesitated. He had the most curious sense of deja vu, finally with a look at the building in front of him it came to him. This used to be the exact lot were Alexander's old apartment building was. The city had obviously shifted and moved through the years but Harlow was certain this was it. As he looked off into space, the wolf next to him tapped him on the shoulder and Harlow was snapped from his reverie. He pulled out one of his revolvers and nodded to one of the other wolves who whispered something into a headset and kicked the door to the bar in. The bar room was empty and dark except for a single light bulb that hung down from the ceiling and cast an eerie glow on the bar room. The bar had obviously been closed and Harlow knew something was immediately wrong when they had entered to find nobody. Faintly, Harlow heard the other team entering the back door and could see flashlights dancing around the backroom as the other two wolves swept the building. It quickly became apparent that the building was empty though and Harlow scowled, whoever this informant had been, he had been way off and that pissed Harlow off. He angrily sent the other wolves around the building to make sure nobody was here and went over to the bar. He had sat behind many bars in many countries in his life and this one was no different. Alcohol bottles lined the walls and taps could be found at the center, he was just so frustrated---

A tap? A creak? What had that noise been? Harlow's gun was out and he scanned the bar for something to point it at. He sniffed and to his surprise got a snort of a slight lycan presence that was not his own or any of his men's, he had been expecting the deathly smell of kindred or ghoul. Harlow's eyes darted and he slowly leaned over the bar to see if anyone was hiding behind it. As he was concentrating on the bar, something drove gently into the small of his back. Harlow slowly stood back up and put his pistol on the bar and put his hands on his head.

"Good, now turn around slowly." The voice said. Harlow now smelled the scent fairly strongly, how had this wolf gotten by him and four other wolves? Harlow knew how bad a position he was in but he didn't dare show it on his face as he turned to face the intruder who prodded him with a gleaming nickle plated pistol. The wolf reached forward and took Harlow's pistol from his holster and put it on the table next to him. He then looked back at Harlow who had to try hard not to laugh at his haircut and general appearance, the guy looked like a Native American who had tried to pull off the biker look. By this time the other wolves had noticed what was going on and had moved in, forming a circle around the man pointing the gun at Harlow. The two never unlocked their eyes.

"I just want to talk." The wolf in front of Harlow said. Harlow raised an eyebrow.

"Is that why your holding me at gunpoint?" He asked. The other wolf smirked, it seemed like an unnatural gesture for that face.

"Just wanted to make sure I wouldn't die before I got to say what I wanted to say." The man slowly put his pistol on the table next to Harlow's pistol. "I'm going to put this down--" He began before one of the encircling wolves dropped hiw weapon from his aim and lunged for the man with claws outstretched. Harlow was about to try and separate the two but the stranger was far quicker. He dodged around the attack with a spin and in the same fluid motion brought a wickedly curved silver knife up to his throat after getting behind the attacking wolf in a move that made Harlow blink in amazement. He'd seen quick wolves in his time but that display of reflexes was like nothing he'd ever seen, the attacking wolf nust not have seen it either because he froze where he was ant the mood became quite more tense, the other wolves looking around, not knowing what to do.

"As I was saying..." The stranger said as he held his silver knife at the wolf's throat. "I'm going to put my weapons away and then I'm going to talk to Syd Harlow, understand?" The stranger asked and looked every wolf in the eye, when they nodded one by one, he looked at Harlow who hesitated but nodded, filled with a sense of curiosity. The stranger let the wolf go and as the group got back together and left the two alone in the main bar room under Harlow's orders, Harlow spoke.

"You were the informant weren't you?" He asked pacing with his arms folded, the stranger nodded as he sat at a table and put a duffel bag he had been carrying in front of him. He unzipped the bag and then leaned back nodding at Harlow.

"Alright then, why the hell am I here? Spill it." Harlow commanded, obviously short on patience, he would have shot the wolf already but he had to admit, the wolf's ability to outsmart five other wolves was something that interested Harlow. Who was this guy? Who did he work for? The man pulled out a thick folder and put it on the table in front of Harlow. Harlow picked it up and flipped through it and was surprised to find it was full of files on him and pictures of him in several places around the world. He looked at it dumbstruck for a few moments. For a long time Harlow had been off the radar, how had this man gotten so much information about him?

"Just so I'm clear, you are Syd Harlow right?" The man asked evenly. Harlow nodded, putting the folder back on the table.

"Who the hell are you?" Harlow asked looking at the man displeased. The man hesitated before sighing and pushing his hand through his tight mohawk.

"My name is Alex Whitlow and you're the only man who can help me."

At the mention of the name, Harlow bolted for his pistol on the table and aimed it at Alex who was just as fast and picked up his own pistol and aimed it at Harlow. The two hesitated before Alex spoke.

"If I was here to kill you I would have done it at the bar." Alex said not lowering his gun. Harlow didn't budge, a look of barely controlled intent on his face.

"I buried that name over a hundred years ago." He said almost at a growl. "I don't care what kind of grudge you have against me for your grandfather but he got what he deserved."

There was a moment of silence between the two and then Alex put his gun on the table and chuckled, his chuckle became a short laugh, Harlow scowled at him, he didn't see what was so damned funny.

"You think I'm here to avenge my grandfather?" Alex asked seriously. "I'm here to meet my great grandfather." Harlow glared at him, he couldn't tell if Alex was being serious or not in that implication.

"Your telling me you're related to me?" Harlow asked, almost laughing at the improbability. "Son, I've heard some stories in my time...why don't you tell me what I'm really here for and quit playing before I need to scratch this trigger finger?"

Alex looked at Harlow with a straight face for a moment before standing up and drawing both of his pistols and placing them on the table on their sides, each barrel was engraved in a flowery, stylized pattern that Harlow immediately ecognized because he too owned tow pistols with the same design etched into them. As curious as that was Harlow still didn't buy Alex's story.

"You're going to have to find something better than that." He said. Alex immediately holstered his pistols at his sides and went through his duffel bag until he found a small leather bound book. He flipped through it for a moment before looking back at Harlow.

"You killed Cody Whitlow did you not? Tore his guts out on your first full moon in the town of Dry Creek?" he asked. Harlow's eyes widened at the mention of the place and time, bloody, sketchy memories filtered back to him. He nodded grimly. Alex flipped through the pages some more and stopped again.

"And later you engaged in a relationship with one Katherine Whitlow--" Alex began before being cut off by Harlow who bolted upright.

"How in hell's name do you know---" He stopped mid sentence. "Wait...Katherine...Whitlow?" Harlow asked dumbstruck. Alex nodded slowly and raised an eyebrow.

"You didn't know who she was?" He asked.

"I...we...didn't know each other for that long...last names didn't come up before we left...I just..." Harlow stammered as he sank into his seat, he then grabbed the book out of Alex's hands. "What is this?" Harlow asked as Alex sat back down.

"A journal she kept, I happened on it by accident when I was trying to find you, opened my eyes, read it." Alex said sitting back in his chair.

Harlow did just that. He started where she talked about their time together and moved into after she left him, the pages were filled with regret and remorse, she confessed to being alone like he was and wandering aimlessly. Harlow felt a well up of emotion in him as he read that he had not felt often before. The final entry in the book was her suspicion that she was pregnant and a final lament that she had left what had made her happy. Harlow closed the book and rubbed his nose with his fingers.

"She didn't keep the boy she had." Alex said out of the blue. "She couldn't, I looked up the records, he went to adoption and grew up and married and had kids of his own and...well...here I am." He said slightly sad.

"If I could have just..." Harlow began before trailing off. He looked back at Alex. "Do you know what happened to her, where she went? Where she is?" He asked only to have Alex shake his head.

"I know this is a big deal for you but the only reason I'm here is because you're the only person who can help me." Alex said as he went back to the duffel bag. Harlow sat back and folded his arms.

"Sorry, you can't have a kidney." He said with a chuckle. As Alex came back around with a large briefcase in hand, Harlow grabbed his chin forcefully and held his eyes up to the light until Alex swatted his hand away from his face annoyed. "Yeah, you're her blood alright, got her eyes." Harlow said simply as he sat back. Alex scowled at him but held his tongue.

"I got this after a contract of mine went bad, in the past two months I've almost been killed by both vampires and hunters for it but even I'm not lucky enough to dodge them forever." Alex said simply.

"What's in it?" Harlow asked.

"That's just it, I don't know, its important enough that the Kindred and the Network will sacrifice lives to get it though so it must be valuable, it has some sort of lock on it that nobody one either side or me has been able to break." Alex tapped the case. "It's made out of some kind of metal that's almost indestructible."

Harlow gave him a disbelieving look but considering a few minutes ago he hadn't had any family and now he was speaking to his great grandson, he was willing to humor the guy.

"Not trying to be cold Alex but what does that have to do with me or my...associates?" He asked. Alex leaned forwards and spoke lowly knowing what he was about to say would be important

"I tried to figure out exactly what this was, I don't know what it is still but I do know that the top of the Kindred wants it personally, and I know that the Network wants it, specifically a division of them called "Project 66." Harlow's eyes widened, he had only gotten rumors and scant few facts about the Network's new division and what he knew about it all pointed to the same thing; They were a force dedicated to finding a way into a dimension that Harlow knew little about but the one thing he did know was that on the other side there supposedly resided an army of vampires and their cronies. This news was grim indeed.

"I have it all right here in this bag, we can--" Alex broke off at the sound of a car door shutting outside in front, both he and Harlow looked out the front door to see a black car with several figures coming out of it. Wordlessly, Alex dove behind a table and was quickly followed by Harlow as shots slammed through the windows and shattered them spraying the bar and flinging wood chips everywhere. After the burst stopped, Alex scrambled for the back door.

"My car's in a lot behind the bar, c'mon!" He yelled. Harlow nodded, thanking the powers that be that that was also where his vehicle was. The two ran into the back room where the other wolves were and who were now brandishing their weapons.

"Its a fething trap, this fether set us up!" One of the wolves yelled, grabbing Alex, Harlow pushed him away.

"We don't have time for this, everybody get to the car, we have to give these guys the slip!" Harlow ordered and pushed everyone out the back as more gunfire exploded in the front. Thee group ran out into the street to get to the lot, Harlow and Alex at the back of the group with Alex gripping both the bag and the case that he had retrieved before they left. A truck slammed around the street corner and came to a screeching halt in the middle of the road. Dark figures jumped out with weapons and began firing at the group as it ran across the street.

Alex grunted and went down as a shot slammed into his leg and hissed as it passed through, he snarled as the silver bit into his thigh. Harlow jumped back and grabbed him as he went down. The case fell from his grasp and tumbled down the street cartwheeling some distance away from them. The figures advanced quickly, coming for the case and the two wolves, Alex tried to lunge for the case but Harlow stopped him and shook his head.

"They'll waste you, we have to go!" The last word was punctuated by a shot that hit him in the shoulder, Harlow yelled in pain as his own group of wolves opened fire from their spot across the street. Alex nodded through gritted teeth.

"Help me up." He said as he drew his pistol and fired on their pursuers. Harlow did likewise with his own and they both ran for cover, firing shots that they hoped kept their heads down long enough. the two made it to the lot where the other wolves were held up just as one of them took a bullet to the chest as the fire continued to criss cross across the street. Harlow knew they were outnumbered and outgunned and now they were surrounded, dark figures approaching both from down the street and front in front of the bar.

"How are we getting out of this?" One of the wolves who was trying to resuscitate his fallen friend asked. Harlow's mind raced.

"Leave that to me." He said and turned to Alex. "Can you still drive?" He asked. He could see the man was in pain, so was Harlow but he nodded.

"Alright then, lets clear a path through these feths."

-----------------

Dimitri went forwards as the wolves retreated, smiling to himself as he grabbed the case, his men had the wolves surrounded now, there would be no escape, he would see them all dead before the night was over. He grabbed the briefcase and went back over towards his men, raising his radio to his mouth as he did so.

"I've got the package, now waste these dogs!" He growled into the mic and was pleased to see more than a dozen of his coven move in towards the lot with weapons forward.

A loud revving noise could be heard from the back of the to, then another, this time much throatier. Dimitri watched as two vehicles came down the lane at his men, one was a motorcycle, the other a muscle car. Dimitri's eyes widened as he watched the bike and car pick up speed, charging towards his men who began to open fire on them. Dimitri laughed, the wolves were cornered so they would have one last fruitless stand before they went down, they were soe predictable.

The smile on Dimitri's face faded as the one on the bike produced a weapon of some sort and aimed it at the kindred line, the wolf fired his weapon with a loud thumping noise and sent a projectile into the vampire's midst, it exploded in a brilliant white light that seared Dimitri's cornea's and made him look away with a yelp. He heard his brothers scream as they were disintegrated and burned. The motorcycle took advantage of the chaos the UV grenade had caused and ran through the blockade unmolested, followed by the muscle car who, as he passed the disoriented kindred who were still alive, tossed two small round objects from his window and followed the bike down the street. Two more blinding white flashes plumed up, causing the remaining kindred to duck for cover as even more of their comrades were obliterated. All firing ceased as a black SUV followed the two cars with its windows rolled down. The passengers of the vehicle fired their weapons as they passed and went down the street after the other two who were now speeding up exponentially as they made their escape.

Dimitri growled in anger, the wolves would not get away that easily, he grabbed the briefcase and ordered his remaining men back to the truck only to find that the tires had been shot out. As Dimitri watched the wolf vehicles disappear he shouted in rage and tossed the radio on the ground, breaking it into pieces.

----------------------

The next day, Harlow and the group were at the Chicago airport, waiting for their flight, Alex was with them but he was inconsolable and unresponsive as he went with Harlow and the others. As they sat, waiting to be boarded, Harlow leaned over to Alex and spoke.

"Well, you're still here, you coming with us?"

Alex thought about that for a few moments, he had found his only family in the world and the two did have a common cause, but he had lost what needed help with the night before, he reasoned he could just walk away now and forget about the entire thing...No, he was too deep in it now to forget, he needed to see this through and he knew even though he was unsure about Harlow, that the only way he would be able to do that now would be to be working together. So Alex nodded and Harlow gave him a smirk.

"Alright then, I'd better run this by Natasha when we get back then." Harlow said satisfied.

"Who's Natasha and where are we going?" Alex asked curiously.

"My employer and somewhere safe, trust me." Harlow said although he didn't expect that Alex would trust him for some time, he just didn't seem like the the easy trusting type. "I'll tell you about it on the plane."

There was a few moments of silence before Harlow spoke again, as if he was reading Alex's mind.

"Don't worry about the case, we'll get it back. " He said as their flight was called and the group boarded the plane.

OOC: Whew...long one...

The Gypsy pulled up outside a London hotel, it was a decent place, ‘high class’ as it were, with terraces and balconies. The occupants of the climbed out of the Gypsy as soon as it had pulled up to the front. The rain was coming down harder than ever,
The one in the trench coat looked up as something bounced off of his hat.

“Oh joy oh rapture. Hail.”

Ruiz came out next, he handed an envelope to the one under the trenchcoat and checked the safety on his pistol. It was off. Good.
“Lets get inside Derrick, with all this hail I feel like I’m back in Bosnia.” Said Ruiz, jamming a finger up at the cloudy night.
Derrick nodded. “Yeah, I need to wash all that freak’s brains off my clothes.”
Ruiz smirked, “You better think of a good explanation to that receptionist chick.”
“Okay, by the way, you know what time it is?” Muttered Derrick as the two splashed across the fancy parking lot.
“Hal-past twelve.” Said Ruiz, glancing at his watch.
Derrick did not have a watch, he was one of those people who never had a watch, when he did, it was broken, he had lousy luck with watches. He was just ‘that type of guy’
The big double doors were opened, as the entryway was under an awning. The two walked in, Derrick paused for a moment and shook himself, twisting his torso this way and that, dislodging water from his coat.
Ruiz glared at him, his voice saying. just wave a sign over your head, huh? ‘I am a dog-man’ you could shout to total strangers.
Derrick sheepishly shrigged and walked up to the desk.
“Keyes to room twelve, tee, please.” He said, showing the lady his card.
“Certainly sir-what is wrong with you clothes?”
Derrick glanced down, the ghoul had left brain and blood spattered all over his coat.
“Err.” He said. “I…checked on a friend of mine in a slaughter house.”
“What were they using to slaughter the animals, hand grenades?”
“No, but…I slipped and fell onto…the processing line.”
An eyebrow was raised. Derrick really did not have time for this, he sighed, and grinned.
Derrick was a champion grinner, there was something about it when he was feeling stressed, something in his smile that made all things monkey-shaped feel the urge to climb up a tee, it spoke of dark caves and a feral freedom, of moonlight nights and primordial fears. Many called Derrick’s grin ‘Predatory’ which was an apt title. The clerk could swear she heard a growl to he right, when she turned, all she saw was a Hispanic man who was leaning against a pillar, he nodded amiably to her.
The clerk nodded and handed Derrick the keys.
“Thank you for your time, ma’am.” Said Derrick.
The two walked over to an elevator, the lift opened the moment they arrived.
Stepping in, Derrick picked at the specks of viscera on his coat.
Ruiz glanced sideways at him, “Do you actually have a date for us to bug out?” he asked.
“Yeah, tomorrow, early morning we catch a plane to the States.
“Plane? Why not take Abdi’s ship?”
“That would take too long, and we need to know where we are headed and when we need to be there by.” Said Derrick, glancing at the floor counter, they were now on the seventh floor.
“Why you so jittery about getting there?” asked Ruiz, taking off his hat.
“Maybe the fact that we need to make a good first impression on one of the most powerful figures’ in the world?”
“Oh. That.”
The elevator stopped, leading into a red-carpeted hallway, at the end of which was an open door.
“Uh-oh.” Muttered Ruiz, reaching for his belt.
Derrick drew his Sig and fitted a silencer from a side pocket onto the tip. He jerked his head in the direction of the door, Ruiz produced a fire hatchet with a silver head and a wooden spike and walked nearer to the door as well.
The door was slightly open, as if someone had picked the lock. Derrick pulled the slide on the Sig back and slowly opened the door. no one was in the room as far as he could see…
“Hold it!” he whispered, there was a sound coming from the bathroom,
Derrick heard Ruiz enter the room. “hold on,” he hissed, “Wait outside, if you hear me screaming, I will need backup.”
Ruiz looked uncertain but walked outside, on the way out, he opened a closet and took a long black case from it.
Derrick reached out for the knob of the door, he aimed his pistol at chest height while using his left arm to open the door, shielding him from any incoming bullets.
As he slowly tune the knob, he heard what sounded like talking.
Derrick forcefully turned the knob, slammed open the door and raised his pistol.
No one.
Derrick as suddenly very wary, he looked everywhere, presently, he heard a small sound. That talking again.
Opening the drawer, Derrick removed a small raido.
The thing was looping on. ‘Turn around.’ Derrick sighed, dropped he pistol and raised his hands.
“Now, turn around.” Came a harsh voice from behind. Derrick slowly turned, there was a dhampyre, it’s hand clutching mini-uzi and it’s other hand outstretched. “The case.” The leech asked.
Derrick scowled and reached into the folds of his trench coat, he brought the case out and held it out.
“Thank you,” sniggered the pseudoleech, “You are being ever so cooperative, your death will be swift.”
Derrick grimaced. “You’re all heart, aren’t you.” He griped.
The dhampyre was silent for a few seconds. It opened it’s mouth and gurgled.
“What?” asked Derrick.
A small trickle of blood dribbled out of a corner of the leech’s mouth.
“Bastard…” it groaned, and fell over.
Ruiz stood behind it, the wooden spike of the axe was covered in the dhampyre’s foul blood.
Ruiz glared at Derrick. “That is the last straw.” He said. “We. Are. Leaving.”
Derrick retrieved the briefcase from the corpse and flipped through it,
“everything seems to be in order…” muttered the man.
Ruiz dragged the corpse to a bed and raised his hatchet. Derrick looked up. “What are you-” the hatchet came down, neatly severing the head of the vampire.
“-Oh.” Said Derrick, as Ruiz picked the sheets up and deposit the bleeding headless corpse into the bathtub. He flung the head into a wastebasket and wiped he spike off on the dead creature’s shoulder.
He pointed at Derrick’s pocket. “you got the tickets?”
“Yes, but they are not until 6:AM.”
“Well…feth.”
“Don’t worry, I have an idea of where to hole up for a few hours.” Said Derrick.
Ruiz nodded. “Just lemme clean this up fist.” He said, turning on the water in the bath and dumping shampoo into it.
“Done, now lets go.”

Shas'ui T'au Kais wrote:

FITZZ wrote: Heh, I was wondering exactly how you'd work out a Vampire/wolf alliance there Kais....not bad...not bad at all, seems they're less " friends" and more " we have a common enemy".

Why, thank you kind sir, I do try...

... so yeah, they may have a joke with eachother, but they are not really friends, just allies, as they do not particularly like eachother, they just feel as if there can be advantages of working together to take down Natasha...

It's nicely done...kudos man..
...Now..of course you do realize that by Dez and Atlas working with Vampires, it will only confirm Natasha's view of them as traitors to Lycan Kind.

FITZZ wrote:

Shas'ui T'au Kais wrote:

FITZZ wrote: Heh, I was wondering exactly how you'd work out a Vampire/wolf alliance there Kais....not bad...not bad at all, seems they're less " friends" and more " we have a common enemy".

Why, thank you kind sir, I do try...

... so yeah, they may have a joke with eachother, but they are not really friends, just allies, as they do not particularly like eachother, they just feel as if there can be advantages of working together to take down Natasha...

It's nicely done...kudos man..
...Now..of course you do realize that by Dez and Atlas working with Vampires, it will only confirm Natasha's view of them as traitors to Lycan Kind.

According to Natasha, Atlas is a pile of bones allonsige Musatie's on a rooftop in Empire City...

... thanks again, I tried to think about what would happen if a typical Werewolf and Vampire met, and didn't want to rip eachother apart...

... either way, you will soon find out Atlas is playing his own little game...

... all will be revealed at some point...

@ Warork

I think I speak for everybody in this entire RP when I say, fething awesome post man, be proud of it...

Shas'ui T'au Kais wrote:@ Warork

I think I speak for everybody in this entire RP when I say, fething awesome post man, be proud of it...

100% agreed, great work Warork...
In fact I really have to commend everyone so far...some first rate RPs here guys...

FITZZ wrote:

Shas'ui T'au Kais wrote:@ Warork

I think I speak for everybody in this entire RP when I say, fething awesome post man, be proud of it...

100% agreed, great work Warork...
In fact I really have to commend everyone so far...some first rate RPs here guys...

Yep...thanks...I'm happy to say that it seems everyone brought their A game for this and that's always a good thing...keep it up guys...we're making magic here...

Wow...

Warork didn't just raise the bar, he built an entire fething floor on top of it.

Now, time to get my shenanigans on.

Silly, you will not beat my shenanigans...

... I am sure of it, they'll be better than Warork's treachery!

Shas'ui T'au Kais wrote:Silly, you will not beat my shenanigans...

... I am sure of it, they'll be better than Warork's treachery!

... ..See...this is what got you in a jam in the last Blood Moon...your going to end up " One upping/ revenging" your way right into another trap...

See: Blundering.

BTW guys, let's try to keep all OOC discussions in the BM discussion thread...I want to keep the actual RP thread realitively clear of OOC post...thanks.

Part One.. A Dragon Rises.


...One year ago...


Fire trucks screamed along under the neon encrusted lights of Broadway, aiming for the multiple fires that had spread through lower Manhattan, Hells Kitchen and into the Bowery. There where emergency calls all over the area, a call from Ludlow Street had insisted a large beastial creature was throwing cars across the store fronts, while another said flying people had been seen battling across the rooftops of Nolita. Mayor Danker Creed had appeared an insisted the chaos was due to an isolated escalation of gang based warfare, that Police and emergency services where starting to now contain.
However to those hiding in the apartment blocks and houses within the Lower East Side, they knew the statement was bogus, no one dared stray onto the streets as gunfire, bestial howls and screams echoed within the night, the night had taken New York city as its own.

Hale Brockford ran across from the Bowery into Bleecker Street, he dare not look behind him as a scream pierced the night sky and the sounds of teeth tearing into flesh assaulted his senses. Pulling the clip from his inner pocket, he discharged the empty one to the floor, loaded the clip and span as the huge fur covered monstrosity leapt toward him salivating blood and gore. He barely had enough time to squeeze the trigger, thanking his friend Alexandro for insisting he replaced that old barrel pistol for a automatic. Fifteen bullets tore through the chest of the beast at close range, it staggered onto its knees, and Hale side stepped as it flopped onto the floor, melted silver draining from the multiple wounds.
He paused and looked over at the street, Kylie was gone, her head dismembered from her body thanks to one savage bite. Hale had no idea what had ticked off the Weres, but the blood of supernatural kind soaked the streets of New York tonight.

His mobile buzzed in his pocket, had he not already been long dead, he was positive he would have dropped right there. Grasping the phone, he flicked it open and couldn't help but bare his fangs as he spat down the line.

"Hale here, what the hell is going on!"

He recognized the voice, Selina Walters, she sounded flustered, and that worried him, normally nothing shook the cool of the socialite Julii. He listened and his face dropped, two thirds of the Vampires in New York where dead already, at least half the Werewolves where down as well, a peace treaty that had kept New York descending into bloodshed was in tatters after over one hundred years. There was something else, another faction, they had been attacking Vampires in their havens, tracking them down and butchering them like cattle. Hale looked across the street, then behind him, to be that powerful, it boggled the mind.

"Okay so if the Prince is at his apartment in the Dakota. I'm on my way."

Flipping the phone shut, he turned and stopped at the sight of a dark haired beauty, her skin pale like marble staring at him from only a few feet away her emerald green eyes locked upon his own. His brow furrowed, she was a Vampire, but not one he recognized. His hand moved slowly toward his concealed knife, a blade that once belonged to a werewolf, that had a nasty effect against Kindred, it had served him well.

"Who are you?" He asked as he took a step away from her still trying to slip his hand toward his jacket, she mirrored his movements, she was studying him, looking at his movements, stalking him ready to strike.

"They call me Ruxandra." She whispered softly.

His mind was racing, why did that name ring a bell, he realized he had barely a moment to act, and went for the knife. A blur of movement eluding his senses criss crossed his vision and a sharp pain struck him hard as he staggered back. He tried to focus as blood splattered from two wounds, and looked down at the knife in his hand, lying on the sidewalk before him. She had a sword, he hadn't even seen her draw it, as he tried to step back he felt the blood washing down his leg, and glanced down at the open gash across his belly, several key arteries where cut. Even for a Kindred that was a problem, he tried to channel his blood, to fix the wounds but she was smiling at him.

"Feth you." was all he could muster as something slammed down on his back. Hale slowly rolled over and looked up at the huge white haired Opriknikki, he was wearing clothes from another era, Turkish Hale pondered.

"Mistress does this worm bother you?" It growled not even acknowledging the Kindred with a glance.

"No Klauth, he is already dead."

The Opriknikki snorted in Hale direction and then continued to walk on.

"You best hurry my lady, the Dragon has made his way to the location of the Prince, he will strike soon."

She nodded and walked over to Hale, dropped down into a crouching position over him. Trying to sit up the Brutii gasped as Ruxandras clawed hand grasped him by the throat. He stared at her eyes, she was not angry, nor sadistic, she was just looking down upon him, appraising him.

"You killed a Werewolf." She said matter of factly.

He glanced over at the body, where once a mountain of fur had sat, now a frail and twisted body of an older woman, probably in her fifties lay. He looked back toward her and barely managed to speak from under that grasping hand.

"So what if I did?"

She looked at him, turning his face left to right, before leaving him back facing forward.

"It would seem a waste."

She released him and stood to her full height, looking down at him. He wasn't sure what was coming, not that he could do much about it anyways.

"You said you where Hale, on the phone before?"

He nodded, wondering how long she had been watching before the Werewolf had attacked, maybe she had be planning her own ambush.

"Listen to me carefully Hale, my blood kin hate Werewolves, we always have, for you action I would spare you, but you must find a hole and hide, in the coming nights I will find you and bring you in from the cold. Understand?"

Hale paused, he had been a Kindred for over one hundred and forty years, he had almost fallen to the final death on more than one occasion alongside those who stood in New York, he had fought tooth and claw to maintain a place among their night, and he had earned many friends within New York while doing so. He didn't even ponder it for more than a heartbeat.

"I'll be waiting." He gasped.

Ruxandra nodded, and then headed off into the dark, he tried to track her but by the time he was standing she was gone, limping over to his hand he picked it up and began to channel blood to fix the wound in his belly. He needed to find somewhere quiet. It seemed that the Kindred had some new players in town, and this Dragon would... He suddenly stopped dead as the name hit him like a stone, the Dragon. Ruxandra Tepes, granddaughter of Vlad Tepes, the Dragon, Dracula, a kindred said to have been dead for an age.

His phone buzzed again, he looked down, it was Selina again. He gazed at the number for a few moments, then placed his phone back in his pocket and switched it to mute.

"Good luck Selina, you'll need it." He mused as he limped towards the ally in the distance.

... Fantastic stuff as always MDS.

Okay right im signing up. Get me on board!

Player; Catos

Character; Jimmy Armstrong

Race and clan/archetype; An ancient and supremely powerful Vampire clan, now eradicated of which he is the sole survivor.

Physical Description; Black spiky hair with red highlights. Athletic and lithe build. Wears red jacket and black leather jeans and a punk belt

Equipment; Silver capped nails, Uzi, short blades.

Back story; Jimmy was turned into a vampire at age 21, millennia ago on a Friday 13th and has been wandering the world since. Following the events in Empire City, Jimmy fled the country to prevent his luck from permanently scarring the area. He briefly arrived in Prague looking for a thrill but again only succeeded in causing suffering. Since then he has been travelling the world alone, experiencing new life, civilisations and boldly going where no vamp has gone before (probably), and decimating the local population almost every single time (it wasn’t on purpose, honest!). He has been present at most world catastrophes and blames himself for most. The most recent place to fall under his bad luck is where he is now staying, in London. He has accidently succeeded in causing mass riots in the local area. He has recently met up with an ex-hunter who, through a series of “accidents” that Jimmy is reluctant to admit to, has given up secrets involving the apparent identity of the person that turned him in the first place, apparently travelling with two werewolves. As part of his first ounce of good luck in millennia, he has managed to trace them down to the place where he is currently staying; London, England. He hopes to meet with his “vampire father” and demand some explanations for his doomed fate, to bear awful luck for his entire existence. He is also trying to attain the location of Sky “Vegas” Henderson, someone involved in the death of his partner, Ramona.

Other info: Following in the footsteps of his old love interest (now ex-love interest following her death at the hands of Hunters), he has begun to read the entire works of Shakespeare (his favourite is The Merchant of Venice of which his favourite character is Shylock).

Virtue- Light Side- Jimmy in his usual state is usually cool and calculated and generally calm

Vice- Dark Side- When Jimmy gets very sad or becomes very emotional he could “flip” revealing his dark evil side and becomes a merciless killing machine.

-Bad Luck- Jimmy was turned on a Friday the 13th and as such has unnatural bad luck. However, he has the strange ability to shift his luck onto other people and has found a way to radiate his misfortune father than suffer from it. This does however mean that anyone around him, friend or foe is in grave danger…..

Special Powers: Mind Control, Changing into Mist, The
Prodigy: Arcane Mage, Bearer of Ill Omen (can shift bad luck onto anyone he wishes), other as of yet undiscovered powers due to being a truly ancient vampire.

wait.

non-embraced. therefore he is an 'outcast' (IIRC)

changing into mist??!!? Mind control?!?!?! Mage powers?!?!?!

and I would think he has to have a clan so FITZZ can do his stats. (Juli, brutti, Opriknikki...)


and...the Vegas in this world is dead.

ineptus astartes wrote:wait.

non-embraced.

changing into mist??!!?

and I would think he has to have a clan so FITZZ can do his stats.


and...the Vegas in this world is dead.

Vegas maybe dead but he doesnt know that. He is embraced and thats the whole reason hes in london, to find the one who embraced him.

I know, but vampires who do not know their embracer are pretty low on the list.

he needs to have an archetype, the combat here is done with die rolls and stats.

I would run this by FITZZ first.

ineptus astartes wrote:wait.

non-embraced.

changing into mist??!!?

and I would think he has to have a clan so FITZZ can do his stats.


and...the Vegas in this world is dead.

Catos character appeared in the first Blood Moon and was responsible for the death of Colt...
I have the stat line for his character...and the ability to transform to a mist was approved way back in BM I...it's something I allowed due to Jimmy's status as an " Ancient"...but I don't allow for most Vamps..( PCs that is)...

oh.


silly me.

ineptus astartes wrote:oh.


silly me.

...Again, this is why I encourage all new participants to read through the previous RP's... ...it will really help you guys to familiarize yourselves with the backstories.

BIC:……….Light in the Darkness: part two…………

Mattheus looked at his desolated environment, the walls covered in graffiti. Trash piled in every corner. The stench of decay loitered the place. When Mattheus had accepted the assignment from the Second Court of Cain, he hadn’t expected this. It would be his chance to prove what he was capable of. That Cain hadn’t made a mistake. He left Arl’nev with his head held high, promising he wouldn’t rest until he had found her. That happened three months ago. His once fearsome guards, now, nothing more than shabby dogs. Their number half of what they had been once. How could a pathetic Humanii slip out of his hands again and again. She kept herself one step ahead of him. Almost as if she was created with only one intention. To make God laugh at his futile attempts. He couldn’t bare this insult to his person. He was Mattheus! Embraced by the merciful Cain himself. This Humanii couldn’t possibly be a match for him. And yet she was out there in the wasteland. Defying him, humiliating him. And worst of all, he had to rely on the services of Rek’shilva, the Exiled city. Placed like an ugly cancer in the middle of the landscape, slowly corrupting everyone who dared to walk this place.

Before him sat Aries, a watcher of the Swarche Sonne. Here to see if Mattheus would hold his promise. The man was nothing more than dry skin clinging on to his clearly visible bones. But from his eyes, the malicious intellect of a Strigoi was clearly noticeable. His robes used to be white, but were now gray. A testimony to Mattheus failing. It enraged Mattheus to have Aries sitting before him. Silent, but judging. He had a mysterious talent, like all Watchers had. And Mattheus could have sworn that the preying eyes in his head where his. But he had no prove, and even if he did. There was no way he could touch the Watcher. They were the right hand of Cain and therefore untouchable. “He is near.” Aries stated, his voice sounded like old parchment. Mattheus had no choice, but to rely on this man. If you could even call a exiled one a man. It was his greatest humiliation until this day. This was the lowest thing he could have done. Alas he had no other option. And Aries just sat there observing. Waiting for the exiled one, from the City the Swarche Sonne had condemned to extermination. Maybe it would be better if Aries didn’t make it back to Arl’nev.

Aleron walked inside the remnants of the destroyed house. Releasing Mattheus from his troubled thoughts. Aleron was a strong as a bear, his scars proudly displayed on his naked chest. Aleron was his Primus, the bloody ruler of Arl’nev’s Arena. No Vampirii could match his strength, and all fell beneath his trusty hammers. Aleron lived for the thrill of battle, the smell of blood. He was Mattheus greatest possession. “The informant is here.” He stated. Using as few syllables as possible. Mattheus waved his hand, signaling he could come in. A small Vampirii came in. His dark red cape draped around him, obstructing every view of his face. He looked scrawny and weak. The wretched scent of Rek’shilva attacked Mattheus delicate senses. “Show yourself.” He commanded. He wanted to see more of this exiled one. “Your excellence forgive me, if I don’t…” he was interrupted as Aleron pushed him against the ground. Tearing his cape right from his back. He was no match for the Primus. “The Dominus gave you an order!” Aleron cursed as he pulled his victim back up.

Mattheus observed the Exiled one, as he tried to regain his composure. He didn’t knew why but this man disappointed him. He had expected more from Rek’shilva the only city to defy the power of the Swarche Sonne. They were just thugs and murderers, willing to do anything for a fee. “I’ve heard that your Excellence is searching for someone?” The man asked. His eyes flickering back to Aleron. He clearly didn’t trust the brute. Mattheus pulled the drawing out of his sleeve. There was no photograph of his assignment. The closest thing he had was this. A drawing based on the stories of people. A longshot at best.The Exiled one carefully took the drawing out of his hand. Studying it. “You are searching for Vegas?” The man asked, his hands trembled. Mattheus grinned, this man recognized her. This meant he had seen her. “You know who she is?” He asked. “everyone know who she is, and everyone heard the stories, that she can kill a Ghoul just by looking at it.” The man laughed. “She is a ghost that stalks the wastelands, searching for revenge. She drinks the blood of werewolfs, so she can smell us from over a mile.” The man handed the drawing back. “What you seek is a story, nothing more.” He turned around wanting to exit the building. But Aleron stood in his way. Mattheus climbed out of his chair. “There is only one thing, that bugs me.” He said. “You knew who I searched before I told her name.” The exiled man froze. His hands hadn’t stop trembling since, Mattheus had given him the drawing.“And what if I knew who she was.” He asked, still facing towards Aleron. “Then I would speak, before Aleron decides he needs some exercise.”

4 Months Ago

The magazine slammed into the weapon with ease. Three more left, thought Musater. I have three more Wooden Mags before I run out. He checked to make sure he didn’t leave his Machete in some poor bastard’s head. It was there, caked in red ichor, strapped to his thigh. Widowmaker was there, as well. Loading it with the last of the .45 Caliber Wooden slugs, he gave it a quick kiss, as he always did. He missed Esmerella.

Longar adjusted his strap. Did he pull the axes from the bodies? Feeling his sash, he felt only 13 axes. He lost 2 on the ground level. gak, he thought, as he wiped the blood from the ones in his hand. Strapping them to his belt, he pulled out his Axe. The head was drenched in blood. He wiped it off with what remained of a Gucci suit. Musater was pissed that he tore it, seeing as how he wanted it. He smiled as Musater grimaced with a slight agony as Longar slammed his axe into the body, tearing the suit. Musater shot his little toe off for that. Smiling as he looked down at his bandaged foot, he drew his sword. Faithful little sword, he stole it from a Gaul Warlord. “Arduro Terraum” it read, or “Burn the World” In Latin, the language of the Kindred. He felt a slight amount of happiness as he drove the longsword into the hearts of those who had forged and pined for it for over a thousand years.

“Longar, when those doors open, do not stop. Don’t even linger. If you do, you will die. Try and pick up an axe, dead. Pull your sword from a body, dead. Go for the neck and heart, but do not pierce, or you will lose your blade. And remember-“

The giant laughed. “Musater, we have gone into Kindergardens more dangerous than this. It’s only, what, 10, 15 guards?”

“36 by my last count.” Musater checked the strobe on the weapon. It flashed the UV light over a hundred times per minute.

“36? This is a Mental Ward, right? Why are there so many damned guards for a crazy lady?” Longar looked quizzical.

“Because she’s a Death Mage. With sociopathic tendencies. Do you see the issue there?” Musater looked right into Longar’s eyes. They went from a deep blue to a Crimson Red. They were about 15 seconds from Longar hitting the wall. And 10 seconds from the elevator reaching the floor.

“Got it.” He hefted his sword in his left, and took 3 throwing axes in his left hand.

Ding! The elevator opened, and when the guards checked to see who was in it, it was empty. They were confused for only a second, for that’s when Longar smashed through the ceiling panel. The guards were treated to a twin decapitation. He roared as he began to charge. Musater followed suit not long after, popping rounds into stragglers from Longar’s Berserker charge. The goliath was a human lumberjack, slicing and stabbing everyone he saw. Before long, they had killed nearly everyone in the wing. The Alarm was blaring, and the pair were drenched in blood. Longar gave a war shout as he threw his final handaxe into the face of an Opprinikkini. Musater smiled as he finished it off with his Machete, cutting into the soft flesh of the neck. It screamed as it fell to the ground, head thrown feet from the body. Musater smiled as he walked over to the head. It was still chomping at the air, a reflex to try to get more vitae into the body. Placing the head against the wall, Musater crushed it with his kick. The pink and grey goo went all over the wall, and he laughed in amusement. This was no longer a fight, but a game.

“That’s all of them.” Longar began to collect his throwing axes, and Musater loaded new magazines into his weapons.

Three of the axes flew out the window, leaving only 10 left to place in the holsters. He walked to his son, and examined him.

“Three bullets to the shoulder, your ear is missing an earlobe, and there’s a knife in your thigh.” Longar pulled the weapon out of Musater, and began to pick bullets out of him with the dagger as Musater gave his own report.

“You’re missing a few teeth, there’s 2 bullets in your lower abdomen, and the fact that your missing a nipple worries me.” He pulled his machete out, and dug the bullets from his father.

After the impromptu surgeries, the pair walked over the corpses of the Ghoul and Kindred guards, and came to the door. She was standing at the window, smiling, with blood covering her hands. Smiling, she talked in an angelic voice.

“Gentlemen, how kind of you to aid in my escape. For my part, I killed the four guards in my room. Now, if you would be so kind as to open the magnetic seal, I could join you in your escapades.” She put on puppydog eyes, and gestured to the four husks pinned upside-down to the back wall. They were devoid of any life, their souls now given to the Infernus as an appeasement.

“You just killed four men. How can we trust that we will not suffer the same fate as them?” Musater gestured to the four men.

She pushed a piece of paper against the window. Where she got it, and how, eludes everyone. It read in red ink, most likely the blood of the guards,

“I hereby declare my sword fealty to my two saviors. I will promise that no harm will come to them from my hands, or will I try and harm them via proxy. I will also expect the same from the pair, that they will not hurt me via their hands or proxy.

On the bottom, signed in a different color of blood, the woman’s, was her signature. Written in a near illegible scrawl was a simple word.

“Fenrir”

“Slip it under the door.” Longar told her. She happily oblidged, and they had slipped it under, with two new signatures. Theirs. She smiled as she examined the document. Slipping it in her pocket, she asked again. “Now, if you would be so kind as to open the magnetic seal, I could join you in your escapades.”

They happily opened the door. She exited, and picked up a shotgun from a soldier. Scavenging ammo and other goods, she exited with a pair of Bowie Knives, a Riot Gun, 30 Slug rounds, 15 buck, and a Snickers bar. They looked at her funny when she picked it up.

“Look, donkey-caves. If you’ve been trapped in a room for 10 years, you’re going to want some fething Snickers.” Unwrapping it, she ate the whole thing in mere seconds.

“You’re preaching to the choir…” Longar muttered under his breath, and began to laugh at what he was saying. “Come on, Fenrir. Let’s go.” He grabbed a human guard, and she looked at them funny.

“The hell are you two planning? You Necrophiliacs?” She gave them a very puzzled looks.

“We’re wolves. And that’s lunch.” Musater ripped an arm off and took a good chunk of flesh off. She gasped.

“Hey! You almost ate the Milky Way!” Grabbing the candy bar from the arm pocket of the detached arm, she wiped the blood off the wrapper before digging in.

“At least she’s not squeamish.” Longar said, eating the other arm. The three talked, laughed, and ate. They were, however, interrupted by about 6 guards in the elevator. Musater reached for his weapon, but before his finger even touched the trigger, all six were sucked from life, their bodies slinking to the ground. Longar and Musater looked at Fenrir.

She was smiling as she walked over to the six and picked up a water bottle.

“Come on you pansies. You want to get her over here?” She beckoned for them to come. The obliged. In the elevator, the sound of sirens were becoming louder and louder. Fenrir took a swig of water before putting it down.

“This is going to be fun.”


Ding!




Just as a heads up, Fenrir's Character Sheet will be added to my OP.

Great stuff so far guys! Sorry for being late (again). (Pictures to come at a later date due to me being fussy in finding the right ones!)

Player: Aurelia
Character- Erzuli
Race/Clan- Werewolf/Lycaelon
Physical Description- Fairly tall (5'9"/175cm), curved figure, her dark brown skin is marked with scarification and tattoos, especially on her face and chest. Her (recently turned) blonde hair is in locks and long past her shoulders; she tends to have it tied back or mostly covered with a large black bandana. In public/anywhere but at her 'workshop', she wears expensive, revealing tops but always has comfortable trousers on and a pair of practical, if often cleaned, boots. Also she currently favors wearing a heavilly embroidered black/gold velvet longcoat which appears to be of an old European style. Her wolf form is that of a lithe, black, Egyptian wolf with a long golden mane down her back, her eyes are a piercing blue in this form, as are her scars.
Equipment- African style dagger – poisoned, held in scabbard placed at the middle of her back, shoulder bag: ‘The Brick’, several small pouches/vials, ‘Needle of Bathory’, ‘Pixie’s Taroe Deck’ (kept in her room at the Den), snuff box (containing a willow bark paste), well used notebook and pen. – Has access to a collection of ‘artifacts’ in Natasha’s possesion… most are kept at ‘the Den’.
Backstory- For over 200 years the only thing Erzuli had managed to discover about herself was that she was a werewolf. She spent many of those years masquerading as a Voodoo priestess on the outskirts of New Orleans, watching the humans mix with other supernaturals and becoming ever more curious about the kind of world in which she dwelt. She spent a few years exploring North America and finding her own beliefs but eventually returned to Louisiana after finding herself distinctly ill at ease with being a wolf alone. As the 20th Century began its first great war she met Vilem Novak and his pack. They allowed her to learn much more about wolf society but, ever cautious, Erzili refused to go with them to meet any sort of leadership; despite allowing herself to become Vilem’s lover. With the insecurity of her position as outcast and a powerful curiosity, she started to focus on a new facination with the effects of herbs, blood and folklore on the supernatural. Her experimentation led to the creation/destruction of a few of her own kind, plus other, weak induviduals; something she managed to keep secret by obtaining a quiet home for herself to the south-west of New Orleans. Soon after creating Anya she was confronted with the truth of her heritage as a Pure Blood by a big wolf called Jarin, who had been sent to find her by his Queen, Natasha and set with the offer to return to claim her heritage. Left with no choice but to go and yet intrigued and seduced by the prospect of power, Erzuli went with Jarin to Europe and Natasha. She destroyed her home in the bayou and hoped Vilem would take her disappearance well.
Discovering more of ghosts, prophecies, magic and finding herself stuck with a huge weight of expectation in the face of a coming war, it would have been easy for Erzuli to run. However, the newfound power and status the Pure Blood found herself with she could not bear to just leave behind and she became determined to find a new path for herself that she could control. With Jarin as her new lover and being second only due to Natasha by birthright, Erzuli has found it far too easy and enjoyable to realise a new direction for her to explore. The only thing which seems to be holding her back is the fact she has, as perhaps the least combat able of the wolves she is with, been handed the duty of teacher to the young Pure Blood, Cass. She spends as much time as is required teaching the boy to read, write and a little of humans and their history but trying to keep the boy’s attention, especially when he is growing so rapidly, is beginning to grate on her nerves. It is however, his growth rate, that sparked an idea in her mind of where she should go with her own plans… thus she grudgingly keeps to her duties as teacher, at least, she consoles herself, the boy is exceptionally bright.

Location/resources- Her main base is with Natasha's pack near San Fransisco, where she has access to anything they can provide. She has also 'acquired' a secluded property roughly ten miles north of the 'Den', at which she spends quite a portion of her time. Two Blackclaw guards who rarely leave her side.
Virtue/Merit- Animal Magnetism; she has always found it fairly easy to talk people into doing things. Spirit Sight.
Vice- Envy: No, you do not deserve anything more than she has!

Major NPC
Name: Anya... formerly Joanna Saunders
Age: 19
Race/Affiliation: Werewolf/Lycaelon
Physical Description: Slim girl of European decent with oddly perfect skin, marred (or not depending on your opinion) only by pale blue ‘tattoos’ that mirror Erzuli’s on her hands and arms. Ice blue eyes, long blonde hair that is always tied tightly back. She wears tailored clothing but still holds herself like an omega, especially when near Erzuli. Her wolf form is a pale grey/brown with glowing blue eyes.
Equipment: The clothes on her back, a cellphone and bag filled with whatever her mistress needs her to carry. Pistol with one clip of silver bullets.
Backstory: “Before the Lady came into my life there was no meaning, I was a spoilt socialite who didn't use her mind but now everything is so clear. Thinking seems so easy when the Lady is near and it gives me the confidence I lacked as a mere mortal.” - Since the events in Europe, Anya has become obsessed with the prophecy almost as much as Natasha and the focus of that is her mistress, Erzuli.
Flaw: Curiosity... she is so open to new things she sometimes just does things without thinking.
Merit: Spirit Sight.

Minor NPC
Name: Báthory Erzsébet
Age: 442
Race/Affiliation: Ghost/Former Ghoul
Physical Description: (Visable only to those who possess Spirit Sight.) She appears to be a fairly beautiful woman of about 30 years of age, dressed in the finery of early 17th Century European nobility. The illusion of perfection shatters when she is near vampires or stressed out and her visage transforms to that of a tattered, gaunt woman with a set of large torn wounds in her chest.
Equipment: None.
Backstory: She is known to history as Elizabeth Bathory, the Blood Countess: what was unknown was tthat she was a ghoul who aspired to full vampirehood. She spent many years using her position as Countess to conduct experiments in harvesting/refining blood for her masters. Upon the failure of her work on mortals being discovered she was gifted with her wish and then killed. After spending centuries trapped by the essence of her own artifact needle, she has discovered a way to perhaps gain vengance upon the vampires who killed her.
Flaws: Pride – Her work was once great and it will be again! Intangible – may not touch/interact with anything, except to project her voice within the minds of anyone with the Sight.
Merits: Tenacity. Perfect recall – applies only to her own memories.


IC...

Two months ago – the Den

“Do not… play with… this… or anything else… again! Understand!?!”

Erzuli struggled to keep her temper down to a minimum as she looked down towards the young boy. A boy who was just barely containing a massive fit of giggles, unlike his ‘mother’ Holly and father Ryan… who the Pure Blood just knew were watching from just outside the main room. It just had to be them laughing. Cass took the whack to the head she gave him without so much as a flinch. It just made her angrier knowing he was getting tough too… thick-headed… like his father. He nodded in response to her question but was either unwilling or unable to speak.

“Leave now Cass, you have training to do this morning. But heed my sister’s words. Do not touch what is not yours!”

Natasha’s soft, yet stern voice broke through the haze of anger still buzzing through her sister’s head, even as the boy walked quickly out to his father. Erzuli was sure she could see Ryan’s hand come into view to affectionately ruffle Cass’ hair in some sort of ‘well done’ gesture. She imagined ending all the expectation surrounding the boy in that instant, she could just feel the relief at never having to consider the prospect of the boy grown into a man, in her bed. But the fantasy passed as Natasha’s hand was laid on her shoulder.

“You have to give him credit for being able to steal it in the first place. The armoury has a security code securing it.”

“I’d bet on who gave it to him…”

Erzuli gripped the ornate ivory hairbrush in her left hand tightly, wishing she could just crush it.

“I doubt it. Besides, you did give Cass a hard time for not paying attention a few days ago.”

“Hes too smart sometimes…”

“Smart and strong is what I expect of him… what we want of him! I will have the security code changed. I would not get too angry sister, it shows he will be ready when the time comes. Besides, it suits you.”

Fighting back a growl, Erzuli shrugged off her sister’s hand and started to walk out of the room; lamenting not having locked the door to her room the night before. She knew Natasha had a grin on her face as she turned to head to the armoury. A smile on the Queen’s face was rare these days so she did not protest any more.

Placing the brush back into its box, Erzuli snapped the lid shut, flicked back the blonde hair from her face and walked out of the secure room, muttering to herself as to why the artifact was even there as its use was so… useless. As the door shut behind her the light illuminated the box briefly before the room plunged once more into darkness, causing the word embossed into the top of the case to sparkle for a moment… ‘Marilyin’.

Nice one Aurelia...I have to admit I'm going to enjoy watching how Erzuli handles the young Cass...

Catos wrote:
Prodigy: Arcane Mage, Bearer of Ill Omen (can shift bad luck onto anyone he wishes), other as of yet undiscovered powers due to being a truly ancient vampire.

Wait a second, I thought that mages were a human only class.



BIC:

The entire Bruss pack was awake now, the twins, Vegas and Sven, and one year old Michael were washed and dressed in warm clothing to keep the winter chill that did enter the house well enough away from their bones. Michael's hair was beginning to brown already and several blond streaks still managed to hide on the toddler's head, his green eye's alight with the reflection of the presents on the table in front of him. So young, but so knowledgeable of the meanings of wrapped square items. He had managed to start walking at only 9 months and definitely showed a combination of his mother's smarts and his father's determination, Claudius had found the combination surprising himself and couldn't wait for him to grow older and become much more of an asset, for now though he was just a one year old who wanted his presents. He saw an opportunity, his mother was busy looking after his younger siblings who were sitting as they played a small game of patty-cake and his father was busy working on something that smelled sweet, his left hand moving cautiously as his right arm held whatever it was steady. He made steady progress to the table before he stood directly at the presents almost directly over him, a small smile of delight flashed and he began to reach for them.

"No Michael." he heard his father say loudly, but words would not be enough to stop him this time. He glanced over and saw his father quickly turn and step towards him, he would have mere seconds before he could pull them off the edge and enjoy the bliss of presents galore. The quick flash of the back side of his father's hand sent the presents even further to the middle of the table and he stood there in shock at how quickly his plans had been thwarted, he looked up at the towering giant who stood there, his hand and stump triumphantly saddled on either side of his waist with a kind smile on his face, "Thought you had them huh?" his father asked. Anger swelled in his chest as Michael stared at his dad, anger and disappointment as he began to feel his lower lip tremble. His father's face changed to a look of concern, "Whoah, whoah, calm down, don't start... don't start." he said, but it was too late and soon tears were followed by the howling of the young boy. "What happened Andy, whatcha' do to him?" he heard his mother call over his own screams.

"I didn't do anything, I just pushed his presents away from 'im." Andy shouted back as Michael watched as his mom pushed his dad aside to get to him, he was quickly picked up and in the comfort of his mother's embrace soon enough. He stopped crying almost instantly as he saw his mom exchange looks with his dad, "It's okay Michael, its alright, mommy's got you." his mom said soothingly to him.

"Have you noticed that he stops crying right after one of us picks him up?" Andy asked.

"What do you mean?" Wendy asked as she gently bounced Michael along with her body.

"I mean that if you do something and I pick him up he's fine, if I do something to him and you pick him up he's also fine." Andy said while tussling Michael's hair, "He's a manipulative little bast... I mean kid." he finished, catching himself mid word. "Well, I need to get back to frosting the cake and all, keep him away from his presents, turn on Spongebob or something.".

"I'm not going to let them watch Spongebob, that stuff rots their brains." Wendy said with a small huff, "Just get back to frosting your cake and I'll make sure they at least watch something intelligent.".

"History channel then," Andy said, "or maybe sports, then they'll think that we're just congratulating each other when we do this." he said as he playfully slapped Wendy on the rump.

"Oh, keep it up big boy and you'll get it later tonight." Wendy said as she walked towards the twins with Michael and a frosting hand print on the seat of her pants.

"I wouldn't sit down Wendy." Andy said as he saw his wife about to sit on the floor with their kids.

"Why not?"

"Let's just say I got caught red handed for that last bit." Andy winked.

"What do you..." Wendy said as she saw Andy slap the back of his own pants, she twisted her torso to see blue frosting on her pants, above where her left cheek was. "Frosting Andy, really? I'll remember this." she said as she stormed back into the kitchen and snatched several paper towels.

Andy chuckled to himself as he finished with the birthday cake.

......................................

The party was small, only the Trenkovich's came over thanks to the massive snow storm blowing outside. The presents had all been unwrapped and Natalia Trenkovich was busy playing with Michael on the floor as Mikhail and Vasha Trenkovich sat on the couch with the Bruss's drinking apple cider minus any sort of alcohol. It was beginning to become late and the twins were sleeping in their cribs while Stepan Trenkovich slept in a portable crib in a guest room. "Time for bed Michael." Wendy said as she noticed the time on the clock.

"No." Michael said defiantly.

"Michael, bed now." Andy said and after staring at him for a few seconds Michael got up on his own and allowed himself to be picked up and carried away.

"Time for bed too, Natalia." Vasha said and joined Wendy in carrying the tots off for bed leaving the two men alone.


"So..." Mikhail began with a thick Eastern European accent, "about Michael."

"I know already," Andy said as he stared into his cider, "Claudius told me when he moved us here."

"I know you're not too happy with it my friend." Mikhail began, "But Claudius wants them to have children, I don't like it much either, but we should be happy for it."

"Andy why is that?" Andy asked.

"He could be making us have them marry that zhopa Francis's kid." Mikhail said with a small chortle.

"I hear that, I would hate to be related to that guy somehow." Andy said as he raised his mug and Mikhail responded by clinking his with Andy's.

"But what about tomorrow?" Mikhail asked.

"Depends on the snow I would say." Andy said, "I have to work over one of the ghouls, the guy decided to get drunk and got a little fresh with that Claudia whore."

"Oh really?" Mikhail said as he rubbed his chin, Mikhail loved to hear about any ghoul being punished.

"Yeah, called her all sorts of lovely things and then told her to get down on her knees and... you get the point." Andy said with a smile.

"So what are you going to do?"

"Well, has to be damage to the offending bit," Andy said and took a quick gulp from his drink, "so I guess I'll be cutting out his tongue, or ripping it out of his mouth."

"Ah, very good." Mikhail said, "You will have to tell me all about it, you know I have some good news for you."

"Oh really, and what is that?" Andy said with interest.

"You remember Friedrich Himmelberger?" Mikhail said.

"Yeah the clock-maker right?" Andy asked, "What does he have anything to with me, is he making me a cuckoo clock?"

"Nyet," Mikhail replied, "those take too long for him to make and are quite expensive you know."

"Yeah, but he gave you one and he's a German from the war." Andy said.

"He's also the only ghoul I do get along with, said he was sorry for everything his people did to mine, but back to the topic." Mikhail said, "He said that he is almost finished with a replacement for your hand."

"A replacement?" Andy said, "How is he going to manage that?"

"With a lot of tiny little pieces." Mikhail chuckled, "He looked over an anatomy book and matched it with pieces of metal, really is a masterpiece. It needs to be implanted though, works using your muscles and nerves."

"That's crazy." Andy said with a smile, "But as long as it doesn't shoot out a little bird every hour I'm fine with it."

"Oh, I get it, like a cuckoo hand!" the Eastern European laughed heartily as he slapped Andy on the back.

"Yeah, hey its late and too cold for you guys to walk back with the kids. You can stay the night, spare room has plenty of sheets and we have a heater in there."

"I appreciate your hospitality Andy, you are welcome to come to our home as well my comrade." Mikhail said as the two men got up and walked towards the rooms.

"I like you Mikhail, not because I have to or anything because of our kids' arranged marriage, but because you don't care about what I am." Andy said as he shook Mikhail's hand.

"You are good person Andy Bruss." Mikhail said, "You may be a werewolf out here," the man said while indicating Andy's body, "but inside you are good man."

The Bruss residence soon grew quiet and the last of the lights on the smaller road leading to all of the human slave quarters shut off. Inside the mansion the vampires and other ghouls were busy preparing for a good night out, the cold mountain air wouldn't bother them as they would be taking heated vehicles out to Portland, Oregon which was only 50 or so miles away from them. The storm wouldn't bother the trained drivers who had lived in the area for over a hundred years of their unnatural lives. Claudius enjoyed Portland, and in fact laughed at how the people would sometimes say "Keep Portland Weird", his small group would keep it weird enough for them.

halonachos wrote:

Catos wrote:
Prodigy: Arcane Mage, Bearer of Ill Omen (can shift bad luck onto anyone he wishes), other as of yet undiscovered powers due to being a truly ancient vampire.

Wait a second, I thought that mages were a human only class.

They are..hmm..must have missed that.

-OP: Daniel Boone-
-Location: Mekong River-
-Mekong River-
-MT: SAO-(Search And Observe)
________________________________________________________________________

”Haymaker here, We are in the Alpha-Lima, Repeat, in the Alpha-Lima requesting confirmation of Magnum, repeat, requesting confirmation of Magnum, C-M-D, over?”

“Haymaker, Rouge One, Rouge One.”
RTO James ‘Tex’ Lister turned the radio off.

“Green light.” Said the lanky Texan, stowing the receiver into it’s bracket.
The twelve-man team stood up, they were wearing the ‘Tigerstripe’ camo common for LRRP scouts. Their faces were covered in a drab green and brown oily pastel with stripes of black thrown in, the jungle was sweltering; massive leaves reduced visibility to only about ten feet in any direction.

The Commando team however, treated this as only a minor encumbrance.
Derrick Moss got to his feet, brushing off the happy few insects that were draining his blood. He nodded.

“Alright, this is the deal, the Cambodian border is just about twenty feet in dat direction, got dat?” said the squad leader, a big black man from New Orleans named Joe Marko, he looked around, his eyes searching for any unspoken questions.
He found none.

“Dats good,” Joe turned to a smaller man, a man wearing a boonie cap as opposed to the helmets that the rest of the MACV SOG team preferred.
The man was Named Hue Nuygen, the group’s Kit Carson scout, he used to be Vietcong, like all other KC scouts, he knew the jungles like the back of his hand.

“Lead on, Hue.” Said the squad leader.
The socut nodded, he never spoke much, but he had proved himself loyal many times over.
The group hiked through the jungle for what felt like hours to Derrick, but in reality was only about half an hour, they were passing a small outcropping of rock that jutted out from the ground when the squad’s GPMG gunner turned To Derrick, he was a small-ish Hispanic man, he came from the Bronx if Derrick recalled correctly.

“You ever fought the VC before?” he asked, shifting the grip on his M60 ‘Pig’ machine gun.

“Yeah,” said Derrick, “And lemme tell ya,” he looked over at the gunner while maintaining the same pace he had been keeping through their wilderness trek.

“If you haven’t fought before…just…kill ‘em, no hesitation, because if you stop and think about that bastard’s family and his life, he’ll have put his bayonet in you gut by the time your done. He wont care about your family.”

The gunner looked a bit taken aback. “Jus, you know, bang, no prisoners?”

“Bang.” Derrick nodded. “Bang fething bang bang bang.”
Derrick turned his head again so it was facing back to the path at hand, more of a deer trail, he though.
He turned his head again, looking back at the Hispanic soldier.

“How come your with M-SOG and you never killed a Vic before?”

“I’m a good shot.”
Derrick nodded, he hoped so, lord, he hoped so he had been shot god knows how many times and al because he was a wolf…He lived, it made him feel guilty, it really did, when you get a ‘second chance’ at life, hell, unlimited chances, but your squaddies don’t…not something he liked living with.
One of the many things he hated living with.
Of course, he had no idea about what would happen if he was shot somewhere very vital, say the heart, the head or the kidneys.
Derrick pulled his thoughts away from the moon, someone was saying something.
The squad had stopped. Derrick dropped into a crouch, Joe was signaling the rest of the squad to do likewise.
One of the other operatives, Sully, a man older than a lot of the kids here, he was from Alabama, if Derrick recalled correctly. Was making the signal for ‘arrived’

Derrick looked into the greenery again, about twenty meters away was a small path.

The Ho Chi Mihn Trail.

The signal for “Fan out.” Was given and Derrick crawled over the brush, pulling himself under a large fern near the trail.
All was quiet, not a sound came from the woods aside from the animals rooting in the brush.

snap

Derrick’s head did not move a centimeter, not even breathing, he saw a flash of light from across the trial, a semaphore signal, Derrick slowly removed a very small camera form a waterproof case strapped to his belt and lifted it to his eyes.

snap

Derrick could hear the sound getting louder, after several seconds of staring through the lens at nothing, Derrick lowered it a few inches, a foot landed in front of his face, it was wearing what looked like sandals and black pajamas. A small knife was shoved haphazardly in the rope around the ankle for easy access, the foot lifted and landed again several paces away.

Derrick did not breath, even blink, he lay there, stone still as more feet passed, some wearing boots, some dragging rifles behind them.
Once, a pair stopped, there was some rapid talking in rapid Vietnamese before one answered somewhat angrily, Derrick tried to mentally translate what they were saying until he felt something move across his shoulder and across his neck, Derrick’s eyes flicked to his shoulder for the barest fraction of a second, a Carpet Viper was casually slithering over his shoulder blades, Derrick bit down on his tongue to stop himself from flipping out, the little reptile took it’s damn time. It waited for several seconds before it slithered off, vanishing onto the brush, the voices above had stopped, it seemed one had given a direct order and the other one had complied somewhat resentfully, the feet continued along the path.

Derrick waited until the last foot passed followed by a wooden rickshaw in wich clattered as if it was loaded with provisions and ammunition. Derrick waited several seconds until he saw the flash from across the trial, Derrick slowly reached out with his arm, the arm laying right across the path, the camera pointing at the retreating backs of the Vietcong. Derrick snapped one picture and placed it back in the pouch.
The squad waited for a full fifteen minutes before decamping, and getting the feth outta dodge.

“You get the images?” asked Joe to Derrick while they trekked back over the Vietnam border.

“Yeah.”

“good,” said The man. “We can map dis area now. By the way, how was that snake?”

Derrick shrugged, he liked snakes, aside from any snakes in ‘Nam.
“Carpet viper, I was scared shitless.”

“I hate snakes, one ‘o dem bit me as a kid.” The big black man said, adjusting the m79 that hung off his backpack. “I was rushed to de hospital, but my finger had to come off.”

Derrick looked at his sergeant’s left hand, the middle finger was indeed, missing.
“feth, why’d it have to come off?”

“Staph had set in, the snake was non-poisonous, but dat thing had a mouthful o’ Staph. I’s extra mad cause now I can’t give two people the
Finger at once. Ha.”

“Hah.”
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Derick awoke, he shifted his position on the discarded hay bags of flour that filled the old granary that filled the position of hideaway until the two could get on a plane. Reaching up to his face, Derrik pulled a packet of cigarettes from the headband of his ca and extracted a mach from his breastpocket. He stuck the it of wood to the packet and lit the tube of paper, rain poured outside and got the inside of the poorly-maintained place as damp as a sewer as well, Derrick was lucky that the place he slept in was high and dry, Removing a notebook from another pocket, he jotted a few items down and replaces it, the light on the end of the cigar flared briefly and died, Derrick turned over and went back to sleep.

FITZZ wrote:

halonachos wrote:

Catos wrote:
Prodigy: Arcane Mage, Bearer of Ill Omen (can shift bad luck onto anyone he wishes), other as of yet undiscovered powers due to being a truly ancient vampire.

Wait a second, I thought that mages were a human only class.

They are..hmm..must have missed that.

In that case what should I do to change it? He does have some magic powers so how would this be represented?
Anyways im gonna start on a post now. Should be up later today.....

Catos wrote:Okay right im signing up. Get me on board!

Player; Catos

Character; Jimmy Armstrong

Race and clan/archetype; An ancient and supremely powerful Vampire clan, now eradicated of which he is the sole survivor.

Physical Description; Black spiky hair with red highlights. Athletic and lithe build. Wears red jacket and black leather jeans and a punk belt

Equipment; Silver capped nails, Uzi, short blades.

Back story; Jimmy was turned into a vampire at age 21, millennia ago on a Friday 13th and has been wandering the world since. Following the events in Empire City, Jimmy fled the country to prevent his luck from permanently scarring the area. He briefly arrived in Prague looking for a thrill but again only succeeded in causing suffering. Since then he has been travelling the world alone, experiencing new life, civilisations and boldly going where no vamp has gone before (probably), and decimating the local population almost every single time (it wasn’t on purpose, honest!). He has been present at most world catastrophes and blames himself for most. The most recent place to fall under his bad luck is where he is now staying, in London. He has accidently succeeded in causing mass riots in the local area. He has recently met up with an ex-hunter who, through a series of “accidents” that Jimmy is reluctant to admit to, has given up secrets involving the apparent identity of the person that turned him in the first place, apparently travelling with two werewolves. As part of his first ounce of good luck in millennia, he has managed to trace them down to the place where he is currently staying; London, England. He hopes to meet with his “vampire father” and demand some explanations for his doomed fate, to bear awful luck for his entire existence. He is also trying to attain the location of Sky “Vegas” Henderson, someone involved in the death of his partner, Ramona.

Other info: Following in the footsteps of his old love interest (now ex-love interest following her death at the hands of Hunters), he has begun to read the entire works of Shakespeare (his favourite is The Merchant of Venice of which his favourite character is Shylock).

Virtue- Light Side- Jimmy in his usual state is usually cool and calculated and generally calm

Vice- Dark Side- When Jimmy gets very sad or becomes very emotional he could “flip” revealing his dark evil side and becomes a merciless killing machine.

-Bad Luck- Jimmy was turned on a Friday the 13th and as such has unnatural bad luck. However, he has the strange ability to shift his luck onto other people and has found a way to radiate his misfortune father than suffer from it. This does however mean that anyone around him, friend or foe is in grave danger…..

Special Powers: Mind Control, Changing into Mist, The
Prodigy: Arcane Mage, Bearer of Ill Omen (can shift bad luck onto anyone he wishes), other as of yet undiscovered powers due to being a truly ancient vampire.

Heh heh, read and weep silly...

Catos wrote:

FITZZ wrote:

halonachos wrote:

Catos wrote:
Prodigy: Arcane Mage, Bearer of Ill Omen (can shift bad luck onto anyone he wishes), other as of yet undiscovered powers due to being a truly ancient vampire.

Wait a second, I thought that mages were a human only class.

They are..hmm..must have missed that.

In that case what should I do to change it? He does have some magic powers so how would this be represented?
Anyways im gonna start on a post now. Should be up later today.....

Fitzz forgot to transfer the Black and Blood magic list from BM II I think, those are vampire spells.

A list of Black Magic spells...

Temporal Flux-A character with the ability to use Black Magik surrounds themselves with an Unholy Aura which warps reality,granting the user the ability to attack with supernatural precision.
This power is used at the start of any player events,if sucessfully cast it enables the caster to re-roll all rolls to hit and to wound.

Master's Lure-Ensnared by the Black magicians powers...those affected by this spell find themselves in thrall to his will.
This power is used during any payer event,if successful it grants the Black Magik user the ability to enthrall (for one combat phase) one opposing PC or NPC,who must pass a LD test to resist the effects.

Revelation of Flesh-The Black Magik user unleashes a writhing ball of Demonic power which tears it's targets flesh from it's bones.
This power may be used in any player event,if successful it counts as a shooting weapon for the black magik user (using his/her BS) and has the following stats..
S-8/AP-1

Breath of the Pit-The Black Magic user unleashes a typhoon of Noxious energy covering it's opponent..
May be used in any player event shooting phase.
The Black Magik user must pass a magik test,if successful,this spell acts as a template weapon,any characters hit suffer one wound on a D6 roll of 4+ with no save allowed.

Putrefy-Offering Praise to it's foul God's,the Black Magic user spews forth a disgusting miasma upon it's foes.
Used during any phase of a player event,if successful,the Magik user hit's all enemy targets with a ST-3 hit,saves apply.

- Devolution- The Black Magik use unleashes a flash of swirling energy wich envelopes the target PC or NPC,resulting in unspeakable mutations and madness.
This spell may be used once during Player combat,the Black Magik user selects a target PC/NPC and a magik test is taken...if successful a D6 is rolled...if the result is higher than the target PC/NPC's toughness the PC/NPC suffers a mutation/madness chosen by the magik user..(more on this later).

Entropic Lash -The Magik User blast at his foes with an evil lightning...
Used during any Player event,if magik test is successful Magik user selects target PC/Npc..and the following attack counts as a shooting attack with the following profile..
ST-4/Ap-3/ AS-3..
All saving rolls apply.


BLOOD MAGICK SPELLS

EXSANGUINATE
The Sorcerer forces the blood within the target's veins to burst forth in a horrifying display as blood streams from every available orifice. To use this spell, the Sorcerer must succeed on a magick shooting attack. Exsanguinate has the following profile:
Range: 24"/Assault 1/AP-3/S-7

CRIMSON MIST
In an hour long ritual involving the 'death' of the caster, the Sorcerer becomes a roiling cloud of Vitae, able to possess the bodies and minds of creatures. Vampires can travel in the daylight in this form, but find a host within an hour or suffer the normal effects for being caught in the sun. A creature in the thrall of a Sorcerer is under his total control, performing any action regardless of the danger to their own person. If the host is killed, the Sorcerer is forced back into his mortal form and suffers 1 Wound from psychic backlash.

halonachos wrote:

Catos wrote:

FITZZ wrote:

halonachos wrote:

Catos wrote:
Prodigy: Arcane Mage, Bearer of Ill Omen (can shift bad luck onto anyone he wishes), other as of yet undiscovered powers due to being a truly ancient vampire.

Wait a second, I thought that mages were a human only class.

They are..hmm..must have missed that.

In that case what should I do to change it? He does have some magic powers so how would this be represented?
Anyways im gonna start on a post now. Should be up later today.....

Fitzz forgot to transfer the Black and Blood magic list from BM II I think, those are vampire spells.

A list of Black Magic spells...

Temporal Flux-A character with the ability to use Black Magik surrounds themselves with an Unholy Aura which warps reality,granting the user the ability to attack with supernatural precision.
This power is used at the start of any player events,if sucessfully cast it enables the caster to re-roll all rolls to hit and to wound.

Master's Lure-Ensnared by the Black magicians powers...those affected by this spell find themselves in thrall to his will.
This power is used during any payer event,if successful it grants the Black Magik user the ability to enthrall (for one combat phase) one opposing PC or NPC,who must pass a LD test to resist the effects.

Revelation of Flesh-The Black Magik user unleashes a writhing ball of Demonic power which tears it's targets flesh from it's bones.
This power may be used in any player event,if successful it counts as a shooting weapon for the black magik user (using his/her BS) and has the following stats..
S-8/AP-1

Breath of the Pit-The Black Magic user unleashes a typhoon of Noxious energy covering it's opponent..
May be used in any player event shooting phase.
The Black Magik user must pass a magik test,if successful,this spell acts as a template weapon,any characters hit suffer one wound on a D6 roll of 4+ with no save allowed.

Putrefy-Offering Praise to it's foul God's,the Black Magic user spews forth a disgusting miasma upon it's foes.
Used during any phase of a player event,if successful,the Magik user hit's all enemy targets with a ST-3 hit,saves apply.

- Devolution- The Black Magik use unleashes a flash of swirling energy wich envelopes the target PC or NPC,resulting in unspeakable mutations and madness.
This spell may be used once during Player combat,the Black Magik user selects a target PC/NPC and a magik test is taken...if successful a D6 is rolled...if the result is higher than the target PC/NPC's toughness the PC/NPC suffers a mutation/madness chosen by the magik user..(more on this later).

Entropic Lash -The Magik User blast at his foes with an evil lightning...
Used during any Player event,if magik test is successful Magik user selects target PC/Npc..and the following attack counts as a shooting attack with the following profile..
ST-4/Ap-3/ AS-3..
All saving rolls apply.


BLOOD MAGICK SPELLS

EXSANGUINATE
The Sorcerer forces the blood within the target's veins to burst forth in a horrifying display as blood streams from every available orifice. To use this spell, the Sorcerer must succeed on a magick shooting attack. Exsanguinate has the following profile:
Range: 24"/Assault 1/AP-3/S-7

CRIMSON MIST
In an hour long ritual involving the 'death' of the caster, the Sorcerer becomes a roiling cloud of Vitae, able to possess the bodies and minds of creatures. Vampires can travel in the daylight in this form, but find a host within an hour or suffer the normal effects for being caught in the sun. A creature in the thrall of a Sorcerer is under his total control, performing any action regardless of the danger to their own person. If the host is killed, the Sorcerer is forced back into his mortal form and suffers 1 Wound from psychic backlash.

Yup...my bad, this is the list of " Vampire spells"...you'll have to pick from here Catos.

Cool thanks ! Does that include the black magic spells?

Catos wrote:Cool thanks ! Does that include the black magic spells?

Blood Magik ..

(cool just checking)

The man backed into the corner of the darkened room as the shadows rolled up the wall. He was whimpering and crying before the horror that stood before him,

“P-p-p-please don’t hurt me!” the man whined pitifully. The man’s pathetic-ness was depressing, although that was nothing Jimmy wasn’t used to, he’d seen enough horrors and death in his time. That was no matter though, he had more important things to do. He turned into a mist form and engulfed the man’s face, choking him,

“Now I’ll ask one more time, where is he?” Jimmy asked in faux kindness, laughing at the man’s helplessness. The man attempted to escape the deadly gas for a few more seconds before apparently giving up and attempted a breath, saying,

“Okay fine, just please let me go!” begged the man desperately. If Jimmy could have smiled in his gas form he would have, but he complied and retreated from the man’s face and transformed back to his usual forme, allowing him to breath. The man gasped a few short breaths before stating,

“Okay man just chill out. I have heard something, a thing about a Vampire wandering around Peckham with a Lycan or whatever. Intel from my homies on the street have told me that there have been a few attacks resembling that of a vampires strike while an identical correlation has been discovered with a number of werewolf attacks in the area. The numbers have just moved in to twenty reports and the local police force has called in some PI’s to try to deal with the situation. As of yet though they’ve had no luck finding things out. That’s all I know though, just please don’t hurt me!” Jimmy looked at the ghoul standing before him and replied in a terrifyingly calm voice,

“Thank you very much Mr Harrington, the problem is though that I can’t you tell anyone about my “visit”. So regrettably I’m going to have to say goodbye,” he raised his hand towards Harrington with a twisted smile. The terrified Mr Harrington looked back in horror and begged,

“No! Please don’t! I won’t tell anybody, I swear! You’ll never hear a peep out of me again! I have a wife and children for f*cks sake!”

“Now there’s no need for that sort of language, I don’t take kindly to being insulted, and you having a wife and children just makes it better. But it’s too late now…”

“No, please I…” he was cut off in abject horror as the shadows swirled around his face, envisioning him of his darkest nightmares, locking him in a horror filled mind prison where he was tortured, slowly and painfully. Only after ten minutes of non-stop scream filled terror did Jimmy agree to his pleas for death, and tightened his open hand into a fist,

“Goodbye, Mr Harrington,” he said before the whimpering ghoul’s blood burst from his body.

OOC: Yes! First BM post in ages, it’s good to be back!

... Natasha skipped from her bed an hour later, her needs satiated for the moment..she left Mia and Mya to rest again and returned to study various reports from her opperatives.
A scouting pack in Oregon confirmed what she had already known, the humans from the "Network" had continued their attempts to breach the dimension of the damned..the realm of the Leech King..
The Queen snarled lightly, shaking her head...ignorant humans...stupid and clumsy...were they not aware of what lay beyond the portal they sought to open?...or were they just so naive as to believe they could control the situation once they'd opened the gate.?
Natasha's eyes narrowed, perhaps it was time for her to unleash another Black patrol on the Humans there..as she had in Montana, it hadn't stopped them from pursuing their agenda..no, but it had drasticaly slowed their progress...yes..perhaps another strike was in order .

She then turned her attention to another bit of information, scouts in Europe ..reports of more traitorous activity amongst a very small band of Lycans...conspiring with a coven of Leeches, they had been neturalized..but it was believed other such groups may exist.
Natasha bit her lip, tasting blood in her mouth...of course they still exsited...those who would betray their own kind always had...but now...now on the brink of war....they simply could not be allowed to opperate..
She reached for her phone..and waited for a reply...she didn't have to wait long...
" Yes my Queen" came Harlow's voice at the other end of the line..
Natasha spoke softly...but with a subtle firmness eluding to the seriousness of her intent..." Harlow..my trusted one...we face dark times as you are well aware" she said..." Our species ...our kind..the dangers we face at the hands of the leeches are growing more and more with each passing day...and we can ill afford to distracted by traitors amongst us.." she paused for a moment an continued..." Therefore ...under my command...I wish for you Harlow...to issue a world wide decree amongst all our kind...any Lycan aiding or otherwise conspiring with the Kindred is to be killed on sight...any wolf who conspires against the Crown is to be killed on sight...any wolf involved in any...group which conspires against the Crown may recieve a full pardon..if..they rise up and strike down the traitorious heads of their orginazations...or otherwise deliver them for judgement.."
" Understood my Queen" Harlow replied rapidly.
" Understand...our people must be united against the threat of the Leech King...this...rabble...who hold truck with our sworn enemies must be purged if we ..as a species are to continue, we can not protect our kind while traitorous wolves would hurl daggers at our backs...we must do this Harlow...for all of our sakes.."
" I..I know My Queen" Harlow answered...
" I'm trusting you to issue this decree...see that every wolf throughout the Realm knows of it." Natasha said softly.
" It will be done...as you command" Harlow said before adding " We return to the Den shortly...all is well."
" Excellent Harlow" Natasha smiled " I shall greet you upon your arrival.."
The Queen hung up and leaned back in her chair...such dark days ahead...she thought to herself...such dark days.

***Fight or Flight***
Derrick shuffled forward, the plane to the states was going to be a long, boring ride. Ruiz was several paces ahead of him, carrying several cases.
They drew nearer the terminal, just tone gate left…they both placed their cases on the conveyor and stepped through the metal detectors.
A man in a security guard costume waved them over.

“Your baggage? Do you have permits for those?” asked the guard, indicating the cases

“Yeah, here.” Said Derrick, producing a firearms permit and saying. “We also got it checked with Airport security, my name is listed there.”

“Where?” asked the guard, dubiously eyeing the list.
Derrick pointed at the name and said, “There, Charlie Sheen.”

Ruiz nodded. “I’m Alberto Lopez.”

“The guard checked the list again. “Alright, it’s all in order, but these travel in the belly, got it?”

“yeah.” They said in unison.

When the flight had been boarded Derrick found his seat, it was by the window, good, something to look at.
Ruiz sat down next to him and began to play with the up/down recliner functions as Derrick produced the briefcase.
He flipped it open and searched the contents.

There were many pieces of junk with attached photos and several folders, Derrick reached in and removed a scrap of metal no larger than a thumbnail, the tag read. “MRAPP Debris: scene pending.” Several photos of a clearing in the forest showed the burnt out husk of a formidable looking vehicle, it had been looted of essentials by the time Ninth Claw (The Fang’s intel unit) had compiled a very detailed report to the ‘businessmen’ or ‘The New Firm’ that was Derrick’s group. They were the Detectives, Triggermen and long hand of the Fang, the Fang had included a comprehensive report on the events in Prague, as well as reports on several interesting figures that were making themselves a bit clumsily obvious.


A wealthy buiesnessman disappearing after a week of causing his business to skyrocket in funds…


A few mutilated corpses here and there…


Derrick opened he folding layers of the brief, dozens, if not hundreds of pieces of ‘junk’ lay inside the case.
Derrick reached for another one, a hollow point bullet with an expended cavity. It read:Revolver round, Warehouse, Silver payload.
Another read ‘’eyepiece of subject 1255’ ah, the twelves through the fifteens were high-ranking members of the Six Fingered hand. The ‘eyepiece’ in question was affixed to a nail, a bit of old blood and rust on the nail. ‘Helm suspected to be nailed into the host, DNA matches that of one ‘Ramirez’ Killed in Prague.


Derrick leafed through the folders, some caught his eye, some where so unimpressive they were depressing. Such as ‘Catharine Grass: Ghoul: lived, died, killed in raid on Crooked House (By one: Anderson Bruss)
Several were not only interesting, but awe-inspiring.


Musatar: Nrajah: Goals: unknown: status: alive (presumably) age: expected some 800/900 years: Threat Level: HIGH: Recommendation: Treat with respect and action, is not to be harmed: Goals as of yet unknown (see: Goals.)


Syd Harlow: age: estimated 200/250 years, unclear, clan: Grubrah. Kills: unknown: estimated over 700 the file included picture of a ‘cowboy’ sitting on a motorcycle and grinning, he fitted the description.

The second picture showed a somewhat grainy if well-shot photo of a massive wolfish form, three large scars on it’s face it’s frame was leaping through the air, evidently howling.

Ruiz took this moment to set down his fourth bag of peanuts and look over. Peanuts were sprayed as Ruiz gawped and hissed.


“That’s him!”


Derrick brushed the fragmented peanuts off of his coat. “What?”


“The one who bit me!” hissed Ruiz, pointing to the photo. “I should know!” Ruiz grabbed the folder on ‘Harlow’ and rifled though it. “Damn, this guy is hardcore” he said, inspecting several images of mutilated enemies.
Derrick set this small revelation aside for now and pulled he next photo…

…aha…

Slender Von Maun Age: N/A race: Vampire: subclass: Totenmasken: Goals: NA: last seen as: (unknown, the flesh will have sloughed off by his
point.)


Derrick pulled out his computer and did a quick check of businesses that had had their income increase drastically in a week or so, two did, now he could see if-


“gak.” Muttered Ruiz.


“What?” asked Derrick, putting Slender’s bio away for the time being and picking up one entitled


Sky Henderson: Status: Deceased: notables:-


“The wolf that bit me-”


“Haley?”


“Harlowe. He’s working for the Queen!”


“Good, ‘family reunion’ eh?” Said the Mgral, smirking.


“shut up man, this is serious.”


“Not really, just say ‘hey you! You bit me once!’ and then alls fine and dandy.”
Ruiz looked unsure. “Not sure man, I wish I had your confidence.”


“Don’t take it from me, I’m a cynical bastard.” Said Derrick, inspecting a bottle cap from the case entitled ‘Longar: Prague:’

OOC... for those who cannot see the image...


IC...





Ten months ago - California


A sense of pride filled Erzuli as she stuck the newpaper clipping to the wall: grinning to herself she spun on her heels and walked further into the simple home she had acquired just a few weeks ago. The former owner had been most generous in his gifts to her: a loner and survivalist who had set up a small house in the 'wilds' of California, even built a secure concrete bunker into the hillside and a simple perimeter fence of wire mesh around the two acre plot... and of course the added bonus of a free meal for her. It was all so flawed and ramshackle, it made her feel at home. The bunker had cracks in already but would hold for the time being... the simple fact it gave her the secure area she sought was enough to satisfy the Pure Blood for now.

"Don't you think setting this up in the Den would have been better?"

Erzuli frowned at the concern in Erzsébet's voice but waved off the ghost's concerns.

"I need my own space for this. I'm not sure my sister would understand our need for it. Despite her hatred of humans, she is all too happy to see them as willing servants once they have been bitten. I am not that optimistic. Besides, dear Countess... there is much work to be done before our theory is proven."

Stopping infront of a large steel door, Erzuli looked over the the table beside it and ran her hand over the objects upon the metal. Anya sat on a chair at the other end of the table, copying scribbled notes from a notepad into a large aged tome. she spoke without looking up from her work.

"Pike is within mistress... as you requested. As is the... Doctor... she begs to know when she is to be released."

Both the ghost and the Pure Blood laughed, causing the young wolf to shiver slightly. She watched her mistress pick up a small bell, an iron nail and a case of scalpels and choose to ignore the implications... what was necessary was of course, needed. Anya simply continued her work as Erzuli and Erzsébet drifted into the bunker. As the door slammed she glanced down to the timetable on the metal desk and sighed... todays date was circled... 'Last Lesson!'.

... Deep within a series of dank and feted catacombs , far from prying eyes, a dark and twisted figure giggled and capered in the gloom of a single candle...
Strewn throughout the dingy dwealling..piled high in every corner and stacked on every table , were volumes of ancient text, rotted tomes and withered parchments and scrolls...which the shadowy figure had poured over with malicious glee.
... " The children of the Beast are no wiser nor more cunning than the spoiled and indulgent children of Caine" the form hissed as it leafed through stinking pages of mildewed scribblings.." Indeed...both are nothing more than arrogant gatherings of simpletons ..and stagnant cretianous louts..." the figure hissed laughter as it caressed the cover of a milenia old tome " Still...it pleases the infinite that they would fall upon each other...rending and tearing as though either ultimantly matter..." The figure cackled madly " Indeed...it pleases me as well.."
Still laughing it's insane laugh...the figure seated itself...joyfully reveling in it's studies..

@ Aurelia...That...is absolutely fantastic.

Part Two... to face a Prince.


Byron slipped along the roof of the Dakota above 72nd Street, getting across from rooftop to rooftop had been but a jump, the two guards, mere Ghouls on duty had lasted barely a moment in combat with a kindred of his skill and desire, and now the gloom of the building lay below him. As he moved across the rooftop in the dark, he could sense the fear and panic that echoed within the building, the mortals where hiding, the Vampires that had made it to defend their Prince where no better. As he reached the far wall of the corner apartment that sat directly above the corner of 72nd and Central Park West, he could hear raised voices within.

Swinging onto a ledge he glanced into a window and could see the Prince arguing with two other male kindred, both Julii by the looks of them. As he watched them bicker he noticed the room was quite luxurious, and spotted a lack of protection against the sun. It seemed that the Prince buried himself in a shielded room, but kept the rest of the apartment as it was. Byron could respect that, you didn't need a lot of room where you slept, but why throw suspicion by having permently draped windows all year round. As he watched the three males argued Byron spotted a Blonde beauty enter the rear of the room, she was certainly Julii and wore a tight red Chinese styled dress.

Watching her darkly he couldn't help but lick his upper lip, and glanced down to see if the others had arrived. Almost on cue he spotted Klauth stalk up to the cloaked Lord, who was watching from across the street on the edge of Strawberry Fields. The brothers Helch and Narthor had been waiting for several minutes by the look of their pacing, while Miera just stood cold as always. Byron watched as Ruxandra arrived, followed swiftly by Jackal. He grinned as they small but highly skilled group crossed the street.

Two ghouls began firing, a Vampire a Stirgoi tried to intercept the huge Klauth, but lasted barely a moment as the Opriknikki pulled what looked like a four foot cleaver and sliced the Kindred in two. The Ghouls screamed as the brothers leapt at them their claws savaging them in moments. With the last cry, the group where inside the courtyard, and heading straight for the stairwell that led to the Prince's apartment.

----

"They are here my Prince!" cried a Ghoul as it burst in the room.

Hector Santiago glanced up, and his brow furrowed as he heard the sound of gunfire and screams from below. They where already at the Stairwell. He glanced around the room, Dante, Marius and Selina, that was all he had left to help him fight. It was a pathetic showing for what had been twenty four hours previously, one of the strongest Vampire held Cities in North America. As the Screams echoed upward, Hector guessed the sixteen Ghouls where not going to last long against the caliber of opponent they faced.

"Go help them, blow the stairwell if you have to!" He snapped at the Ghoul, who just bowed and darted back out checking the safety on his glock as he went.

"This is madness hector, these Kindred have slaughtered over twenty of our kin tonight, we cannot face them."

Hector glared at Dante, who immediately fell silent.

"Of course we can't but we are out of time, I was hoping that.."

All three Kindred stopped and walked towards the windows, looking down as several Police vehicles screamed down the street sirens blazing. Hector grinned as the first of two swat vans skidded to a halt and body armoured Police officers armed with assault rifles burst into the street and began running for the courtyard.

"And this gentlemen is why I pay my taxes." Hector grinned.

"While they deal with the Police, we'll make good our escape."

The other two Kindred nodded eagerly, while Selina carried on packing bits and pieces for Hector.

----

Klauth heard the sirens as the vehicles pulled up, holding up his blade he turned along with Ruxandra as the Swat team poured into the courtyard.

"Incoming!" He roared lunging forward with only the speed one of the damned could muster.

The swooping sound of his cleaver blade bounced across the walls like a grim spectre as two of the swat fell apart in different directions, their partial screams filled by a roar of anger by their compatriots who targeted the huge Kindred unleashing a torrent of gunfire in his direction. As the huge Opriknikki stumbled to one knee, he used his blood to thicken his skin so it was a tough as stone, deflecting most of the incoming fire as bullets zinged around him.

As the Swat closed in they missed the dancing moves of Ruxandra as she slashed out three times, dropping a Police officer for each strike. As she glanced out she could see the second Swat team unloading, followed by near on a dozen regular officers.

"Grandfather we are outnumbered greatly." She shouted skipping out of the way of a Swat trooper who opened fire in her direction from the entrance.

Behind them, the Dragon turned from the battle with the Ghouls, leaving his warriors to continue to battle along the staircase, and letting his cloak fall back to swirl behind him he walked towards the tunnel where the police where threatening them from. Around him a dark wind seemed to circle and out of the shows creatures screeched and howled. He threw open his arms and dark energies roared through the courtyard striking at the Police, knocking them backwards, as clawed fiends in the shadow tore at their exposed flesh where they could find it. The almost amusing sight of Swat team members battling with imps for possession of the firearms unfolded before the Kindred, as the energy struck out and hammered upon the vehicles.

In the chaos of the moment, Klauth cancelled his shield and waded back into the now distracted Swat, hacking them down with out a moment of pity, their blood splattering against the stones of the courtyard, as mortal men screamed in horror at the darkness that bore down on them. Ruxandra joined the Opriknikki in his bloodshed, and her blade struck out, with pin point accuracy, dropping a police officer for each thrust or spin.

With a vile eager grin on his lips the Dragon clenched his fists shut and watched with a grim satisfaction as both Swat vehicles exploded behind the remaining few police officers. As he watched the final few fall to his Granddaughter and Klauth, he nodded at them for their strength and skill, and then returned towards the stairwell, a cruel laugh echoing as he walked.

----

Hector heard the explosions as he reached the doorway, and looked back at Dante and Marius.

"That can't be good." He muttered.

The window to the far corner exploded and the dark haired Kindred burst into the room, Hector recognized him instantly.

"Byron, you coward!" he spat.

"I didn't realize I was the one running."

Hector growled at the retort and ushered both Dante and Marius forward to fight the new immediate foe. He watched as smoke and shadow materialized around Byrons hands, and immediately realized who had sired the poet. He pulled open the door and watched as Dante was dragged across the floor by the shadow and slammed into the far wall, before a spike of shadow pierced his chest and sent him screaming into the flaming street below.

"Come back Prince, we need to discuss your right to rule!" Shouted Byron as Hector slipped out the door.

The other Julii grasped at him, distracted he'd let him get too close, and with his momentum lost, all he could do was focus on the 'hero' getting between him and the Prince. Grasping the shoulders of his opponent Byron pushed him back and struck out with shadow, opening deep wounds on the Julii's shoulder and right cheek. As the battled back and forth, pushing at one another, Byron noted the other kindred trying to slip out after her prince, he grinned and a tendril of shadow slammed the door shut and then with a backwards strike slapped her across the side of the head to the floor.

"I will kill you Poet!" sneered Marius as he pushed Byron backwards towards the hole made by the departing Dante.

Byron glanced over his shoulder at the hole, and then back to the Julii.

"Maybe I can get a rain check on that?" He said with a grin.

Shadow struck out and smashed the kindred to the floor, and Byron struck down hard using the force of his blood in the punch, her heard the skull crack, and as the Vampire slumped forward, the Shadow lashed out and tore him in two. Byron paused and shrugged each shoulder, the Julii had one hell of a grip. Walking slowly up to the door, he knelt down and lifted the blonde into his arms. Watching her as she started to come around from the blow. He eyes widened in alarm as she realized he was holding her, and she tried to cry out as as he descended upon her neck and bit deep of her flesh.

....

Vlad Tepes stepped into the room, and looked around the broken furniture and devastation from a bitter fight, he noted Byron sitting in a antique red velvet, gold leaf chair and raised an eyebrow.

"Did you get him?"

Byron glanced back, trickling ash from one hand down onto the other, a stain of blood across his lips. He looked over at his Lord and shook his head nonchalantly as he lifted his boots up onto a small coffee table that had somehow escaped the carnage.

"He ran just as we thought."

The ancient walked down into the apartment and looked about at the various artifacts around the room. He nodded and then glanced at Byron.

"You are sure he will rally all the remaining Kindred of the city to his fall back position."

Byron smiled.

"He will still think he can win, I have no doubt that will be his plan."

"Good, then all is as planned."

Byron sat up and let the last flakes of ash fall to the floor.

"Nero contacted me earlier, they are on their way."

The Dragon smiled.

"He also informed me of a very interesting fact."

The Dragon raised an eyebrow and glanced his way.

"They have Lilith, she is infected."

The Dragon allowed a deep smile, only pausing to stroke the old scar on his chest. Across New York the sounds of fire trucks and Police Sirens echoed up into the night, a night where chaos had struck at the heart of the city, and only a scarce handful truly knew why.

... MDS, It's always an distinct pleasure to read your RP's man...really great writing here.

Awaking to the sound of crackling timber .

sniffing the air the crisp tang of cheap hardwood floor and something else.... there is smoke rising form the floor!

grabbing the suitcase he sprints out the door. He is on the second floor. He continues towards the stairs only to see that they are on fire and he could hardly go through them without some major damage. Plus he liked his pants. He ran back up the stairs and across the hall, the smoke had begun to swallow the halls, the flames just showing through the cracks in the hardwood floor. He opened the door down the hall. To find that it is a typical apartment except with one window. He ran to the window and punched it out. While he did so he cut his hand. Long nasty gashes, with the blood oozing out. Dam that kinda hurt he thought. After making enough space for him to escape the now crumbling beams falling around him he jumped out the window and landed in the garbage. He looked back at the building the fire had now consumed the second floor. As he walked away from what used to be his home, suitcase in hand he sees the smoke rising, he thinks to himself… Now what?

MDS and Aurelia really have done some work so far. Now Mordo just needs to start posting to screw every "good guy" over.

Also, I love how MDS and Aurelia readily use masses of unclaimed people for a story. Imagining two full SWAT squads being torn to pieces while another fight rages on a higher floor of a building is just plain fun. I will have to dial the torture notch up a bit, seems like Aurelia is going to use Erzuli to challenge Andy in that field. Then again it seems like Erzuli is more of the mad scientist type while Andy is just beating people up for information.


BIC:

Portland was a rather large city, but more importantly it was an incredibly liberal city; free speech was the major deciding factor in the area and not only that, but there happened to be a rather large number of prostitutes and other miscreants running around at night. Claudius enjoyed the city and its people, feeding was not only easy but entertaining and he enjoyed toying with the cattle before settling on which one he would relieve of their vital fluids. It was much like going to a restaurant and choosing his own lobster except that the restaurant was usually one of his local night clubs, he felt bad that it had been done before but it worked and allowed him to have fun. Tonight he looked over at the crowd that had come in with hungry eyes, looking for just the right victim to ask to join him in the VIP room while Claudia sat behind a sleek black laptop looking over business reports.

"Dear when are you ever going to have any fun with the humanii?" Claudius asked, "You stay behind that things screen the entire time we're here and when you do decide to feed it doesn't really matter to you who it is."

"Its all blood." Claudia responded, "I could care less what the container looks like."

"So you would take sustenance from that man over at the bar, failing miserably at hitting on the bar tender?" Claudius teased and saw Claudia look from the office window at the fat, sweaty man who looked like a 70s reject.

"If I could get to his neck then yes." Claudia responded before returning to her keyboard.

"Claudia, I admire your apathy, but I will have to test your resolve." Claudius said with a smirk.

"What do you mean by that father?" Claudia asked.

"Go down there, get him, and take him to one of the back rooms." Claudius said.

"You are joking right?" Claudia replied.

"What, so you do care how your targets look after all then?" Claudius teased.

"I would, but Clovus and Hernan are busy with their own dinners right now." Claudia replied.

"No they aren't, Hernan is out on the floor looking for seconds." Claudius said, spying the hispanic vampire among the swaying crowd. He looked at his daughter and waited for her to either get up or resign to the fact that appearance mattered to her, either way it would be entertaining. Eventually Claudia sighed and got up from her chair and walked out of the office to the floor below. Claudius saw her quickly approach the man and immediately motion for the back rooms, she had no sense of grace about her, no sense of allure in obtaining her target. In fact it seemed as if she was a cop telling someone to come with them so they could get their fingerprints, it still managed to work for her though and the two soon disappeared below the windowed balcony of the office. Claudius waited for a few minutes before Claudia returned to the office and stormed back to her seat behind the desk. "And my dear, how was it?"

"He tasted like salt and bad cologne, but his blood was all the same." Claudia said, her face completely straight and her eyes focused on the dim glow of the screen.

"You seem distant Claudia." he said, folding his hands behind his back, "Surely you weren't at all troubled by the choice were you?". After a few seconds of silence Claudia looked at her father.

"It was disgusting and I never wish to feed off of something like that again." Claudia stated almost robotically.

"So next time choose someone good looking instead of saying that every human is the same." Claudius walked over to Claudia and placed his hands on her shoulders. "So now that your business is done here, maybe you should go out and get that present for young Michael. The cold air will be refreshing and hopefully erase your memory of the man."

"I don't know what to get a one year old for his birthday." Claudia replied.

"Get him a stuffed animal or something, its really quite easy." Claudius said, "From their receipts I saw that they got him a tonka truck and some larger race cars that made a lot of noise and lights. Seems like he might like cars, or lights, or loud noises. Whatever you get him, make sure its thoughtful though, I don't want you picking out a pack of gum and giving that to him, I want you to think about it or its not a punishment, its just a chore."
..............

Claudia glanced around at the lights of the night, most of the dedicated toy stores were closed but more than several department stores would be open and from her research Sesame Street seemed to be pretty popular among human children especially a bright red creature named Elmo. Upon research she discovered the Count as well and decided that she would find a way to kill every single person involved in creating that show eventually, but for now she would attempt to find an "Elmo" for the insufferable Bruss child. She looked upon a Wal-Mart entrance and sighed as she walked through the sliding door entrance, a blast of warm air assaulted her as she went from the dark and into the fluorescent light. She saw several cashiers chatting with each other, and other employees already looking as if they were on death's door. Large blue signs indicated the toy section and she immediately made her way over to the aisles and began searching for anything bright and red; fire trucks, race cars, and finally the furry red body of a plush Elmo that also talked. "Noise and its a stuffed animal." Claudia thought to herself, "This was easy afterall.". She grabbed the toy off the shelf and quickly walked towards the registers were a teenage female quickly scanned the item and stated the price. Claudia quickly handed her the cash and walked out of the store with the plastic bag in hand, glad of finishing the awful business. As she made her way back to the club a noise in an alley caught her attention and she came to an abrupt stop. The sound of moaning could be heard and she stealthily made her way into the alley, the bag clutched tightly to her body to stop it from rustling, to find the source. Luckily enough she found a parked car, steam clouding the windows. She knew what was going on inside, but she was still hungry... the taste and odor of the fat man had been too much for her and instead of keeping anything down she had managed to throw up anything she had gotten from the man. She rapped her knuckles on the driver side and the commotion in the car came to a complete stop, as the window rolled down the smell of cheap perfume and sex entered the air, but the prey this time at least looked appealing.

"Its not what it looks like, this is my wife here." the man said quickly and flashed his wedding ring.

"Yeah, we're married, just having some fun officer." the woman said before appearing in the same window, also flashing a ring.

"I'm no officer." Claudia said as she dropped the present and grabbed the man by his shirt and pulled him out of the vehicle's window. The woman screamed in terror as her husband soon met the brick wall of one of the buildings comprising the alley. Claudia could be seen using a metal rod as a knife and stabbing it into the back of the man's neck, paralyzing him without killing him. She continued screaming before Claudia had lunged through the driver's window and pushed the same rod through the woman's larynx, silencing her in terror as Claudia walked quickly over to the passenger side and pulled the woman through the open door. Claudia bit into the woman's neck and blood poured into her mouth as the light from the street reflected off of the metal rod still stuck in her prey's neck. The woman's mouth gaped in horror and her eyes transfixed on the road as the last of her vitae entered Claudia who placed the woman back into her seat and then went back to the husband who lay there with his pants around his knees. She still needed something to make up for any blood she had lost thanks to vomiting and made quick work of the man before returning him to his own seat in the car. The blood had felt warm as it ran its course through her body in the cold of the night and she reveled in the feeling as her stomach emanated the warmth of the vitae to her limbs. She let herself enjoy the feeling for several seconds before bending down and picking up the present, she looked at it and noticed that the box had been dented and banged up, most likely by the man's feet as he thrashed trying to get free of her grasp. She swore to herself as she shoved the present back into the bag and walked back towards the Wal-Mart to get a similar gift, knowing that Claudius would not accept her giving a gift that looked mangled as fulfilling the punishment.
...............

Claudia returned to the club after an hour and sat the gift in front of her father, who was enjoying a glass of wine to chase down the blood that he had recently drunk from a mid twenties "stud", and pulled it out to show him.

"Very nice my dear," Claudius said, "I am sure that Michael will enjoy this, but he will enjoy unwrapping it even more I think."

"Are you joking father?" Claudia's shoulders sank in despair.

"Did you drink the blood of that fat man in the club?" Claudius said as his smile disappeared behind the rim of his wine glass.

"I will wrap it then." Claudia said, swearing under her breath as she walked over to her desk and sat down at the computer. "But I will do it when we get home and only then."

"As long as it gets wrapped and delivered I could care less where you do it Claudia." Claudius said cheerfully, "Maybe next time you won't go against my word when it comes to ordering around the slaves.".

"When will we be leaving father?" Claudia asked, tired of being in the city.

"In say thirty minutes," Claudius replied, "tonight isn't as fun as I hoped it would be."

Claudia sat and waited for the thirty minutes to pass, they would pass slowly for her, but they would eventually pass and then again it was only thirty minutes out of an eternity so it did not bother her much.

I need to post! I will try and get something tonight or tomorrow.

The hangar was quiet at this time of night, just a few of the maintenance crew were still around doing their usual rounds on the aircraft sitting in their bays. Several hangars and outdoor pads held all manner of craft from a massive C-130 to smaller private jets, to single engine recreation planes to her own beauty, the one she was standing next to. This beautiful little two engine anachronism she loved so much.

Katherine loved things that flew, her entire life had been spent flying anything that would stay in the air and as a woman who had lived through the 20th century, that was no easy thing. It hadn't always been that way though, her face tightened as she recalled the first few years after she was bitten, those had been the lowest in her life and she had since sworn she would never go back to them. She looked over her plane, its dark green metallic skin bringing up the memories of when she had flown its kind in the forties. She examined the machine, making sure there were no nicks or scratches as she walked down its side, her concentration was broken by the sound of quiet cursing and the clanking of metal from the back of the plane, she walked over to where the side door was and saw the oafish members of the team she had just flown in unloading the plane with bags of heavy equipment. She scowled, their manner of loading and unloading her plane was as half assed as they were.

"Hey!" She called up in an attention grabbing tone. "What did I say about the bags? This think aint a tank, if I find one dent in that door you're going to be up to your neck in it!"

The man standing in the side door glared down at her as he tossed down another bag to the ground about ten feet below.

"Feth you! This stuff is heavy." He complained. Katherine gave him a withering glare and her voice changed from accusatory to mocking.

"Oh you poor thing, want me to get up there and help?"

The man in the side door just grumbled to himself and continued to drop bags into the pile next to the plane. Katherine rolled her eyes and walked off to find somewhere to sit. She found a crate to sit on and undid her ponytail, letting her red hair flow over her shoulders and unzipped her flight jacket, the inside of the hangar was warm and she was tired so she really didn't care how informal she looked at the moment. The past six months of her life had been strenuous to say the least, but in her eyes they had been worth it. In fact she was sure she wouldn't have been standing in this hangar tonight if it hadn't been for some of the people around this little haven. Of course it had been quite a big change first, her eyes were opened to a world she didn't know existed, much like all those years ago when the Network told her family that her father wasn't coming home. But that was a faint memory, just a little feeling of sadness after more than a century of life in this world. The staff and the guards, the fighters and the leadership, they might have not have been the most friendly, but they were all like her, they all found a home together and in this place they didn't have to fear things like vampires...or humans...or hunters.

Katherine shuddered a bit as she remembered her last run in with hunters...she had---

Her train of thought was interrupted by a ringing and a vibration in her pocket. She reached into it and pulled out her cellphone, smiling when she saw who it was.

"Hey hon, where are ya?" She asked in a nonchalant tone.

"At the outskirts of the city, should be back soon." the gruff voice of Harlow came back from the other side. "You get back alright?"

"Just peachy, the ride was boring though, these guys I fly get to have all the fun when they get back on the ground." She replied brushing her hair back behind her ear with one hand.

"Well, perhaps you should be thankful for that." Harlow said.

"What's that's supposed to mean? I can hold my own against any of these jokers!" She exclaimed though not angrily. There was laughter on the other side of the phone.

"Didn't say that Kitty." Harlow replied, using her pet name. "Just saying I'd hate to have something happen to you. You know that." Katherine sighed slightly.

"I know hon, what about you, you have any fun?"

"Plenty, one of the group bought it actually." Harlow said lowly. Katherine bolted upright at this.

"Oh my God you're not hurt are you!?" She asked worried. Another chuckle came from Harlow's side.

"No, I'm fine, so's Alex, in fact he finally got his hands dirty on this one." Katherine nodded slightly even though she knew Harlow couldn't see her.

"So did you finally get it?" She asked, referring to the case.

"Sure did, took a few dead leads and a lot of tracking down but we finally got it back."

"D'you figure out whats inside it?" She asked.

"Nope." Harlow said with a chuckle. "I'll have to talk to you later about it, gotta report to Natasha and then I'll be around." Katherine frowned a bit at the mention of the name, she was fully aware of her own subordination to the wolf queen but that didn't mean she had to like it. Either way, she kept those feelings to herself, knowing that talking ill of her employer would be nothing but trouble for her.

"Alright hon, I'll see ya when you get back." She said softly. Harlow said his goodbyes and then hung up. Katherine sighed again and went walking into the night air outside the hangar while she waited. Yes these last six months had been hectic, but they had been happy, happier than she had been in a long time now that they were back together. She smiled at the memories of Harlow, the good ones and the bad ones, glad that he was in her life again, still regretting her confused decision to abandon him all those years ago. She felt emotions well up in her as she walked...

She might have abandoned him...but he had never abandoned her...

----------------------------

Six months ago, Somewhere in the Ardennes, France.

Darkness, blackness, that had been her world for the past week. She was chained to some wall in a dark pit that sat in the bowels of a medieval fortress. She sobbed slightly as she recalled the night a week ago, she'd been flying for a private military company and had landed her bird in Germany. then they had come, big men in black Hummers with tinted windows had surrounded her plane, shot anyone who tried to resist and restrained the others and her. She'd been beaten into the back of one of the Hummers and blindfolded, scared for her life, angry at the sudden kidnapping, unsure of what to do, it had all happened so fast, they just appeared, shot some of the passengers, tied up the rest and drove away.

She hadn't a clue who or what had kidnapped her until they made it to the castle...

It was a dark, gloomy, gothic castle made of grey stone that showed signs of again and dereliction but it was by far the most imposing structure she'd ever seen. Gun towers and barbed wire had been added with flood lights and thick reinforced steel gates. The blindfold came off just long enough for her to see where they were pushing her and the rest of the group they had been put with. Their captors said nothing, only looking at them with icy glares filled with hate. As they went through the halls, Katherine saw all sorts of Christian iconography, they passed a great vaulted chapel where men bowed before an altar where a priest stood and chanted out a benediction, his hands raised to the sky in a gesture to appeal to god. Her view of the room was quickly cut off though as she was shoved from behind spitefully by one of the men that moved the group. They passed many chambers, some with eerie chanting coming from behind them, others with screams and moans coming from within their depths. The further they went the less light could be seen from any of the candle lit chandeliers hanging from the high ceilings. Down they spiraled down staircases and through hallways, until they finally made it to the much more cramped dungeons. there they were forced to hand in their cloths which were exchanged for stinking, blood stained rags and thrown as a group into a large stone chamber with no windows and one door, a thick metal slab with only the smallest slot to let light and air in. No matter how much they yelled, nobody would answer them why they were down here or what they were imprisoned for. they were just told to shut up before someone came in the room to shut them up...

So they sat in silence until a few hours later the door was shoved open and one of the group was grabbed and drug out. This came as a surprise and was so fast that the others didn't have any time to react. there wasn't much that could be done however, each one of them smelled like wolf to her, and each had been shackled with silver cuffs that were impossible for them to break out of, whoever was holding them here didn't like wolves apparently. Katherine wondered were they hunters? She'd never heard of hunters capturing and torturing wolves, only killing them, who the hell was doing this to them?

The screams started, unearthly howls of pain and suffering echoed from down the hall, screams so profusely tortured that it curdled the blood of all who heard it. Katherine began to tear up and sob quietly, what the hell was this place? Finally after an hour of listening to the horrid screaming, it stopped. Then the door opened and another of the group was grabbed, this time with the unlucky chosen trying to get away from his captors who simply beat him into submission with clubs they had brought. When he was finally dragged out of the chamber one of the men looked back at the scared group and smiled.

"I hope you enjoy your comforts for as long as you can, lycan scum, it will be your turn to be purged next." He said and slammed the door shut.

More screams, this time for another hour and then another silence until the door was opened again and another unfortunate soul dragged out. This went on for twelve hours a day for two days, each time the screams could be heard from down the hall it kept the group from sleeping, and each time they stopped an electricity entered the air, one of knowing that you could be next to scream for your life and your sanity. Katherine saw desperation, she saw fear, she saw anger, three of the group tried to overpower their captors when they next came in but they were dispatched with silver blades and slaughtered as if they were nothing more than insects. Finally, they came and picked her up, as they closed the door behind her they once again blindfolded her and marched her down the hall into another chamber where she was forced to lay on some sort of slab and was chained to it. Chanting voices that she could not see filled the chamber, she smelled the heavy scent of incense and finally a hand gripped her left arm solidly and a voice spoke next to her.

"Are you prepared Father?" He said.

"Yes brother Gregory, let us begin the purging." an older voice chimed from somewhere in the room.

Something began to cut into her arm with a burning pain that she could not stand, she screamed, she couldn't stop herself the pain was so intense, she screamed so loud it drowned out the chanting of the priest who stood by her with a bible and spoke verses aloud from it.

That had been a week ago and every day since she had been unchained from the wall in this new chamber, brought back into the same chamber and tortured again, they never asked any questions, just burned, pierced, stabbed, beaten, stretched, torn and cut her. Her existence had been from one session to another and it had been so oppressed, so painful that she had nearly lost her sanity only being able to keep her mind in one piece by the dreams she got in her scant few hours of sleep. Each night she dreamed of him and woke sobbing asking herself why she had done what she did, she had been nothing but miserable ever since that decision and now she would be tortured for as long as her captors saw fit, her body being able to take such punishment because of its supernatural ability to heal itself. Her body might not show too many marks but her mind was close to breaking close to just shutting down and becoming nothing more than a gibbering lunatic...

She hung there on the wall sobbing quietly, it was the only thing she could do...the door to her cell opened again, she cringed, she knew what was to come. Gruff hands got her from her shackles and shoved her out the door only this time it was different, she was moved to another room and forced onto her knees and even though she could not see, she could smell the other group of lycans around her, they had all been broken like she had and were just waiting for the end of it all like she was. Someone in front of them came forwards and addressed them all.

"You have all been found wanting in the eyes of God, your sin is unforgivable, each of you reeks with the filth of the unholy on you, each of you have been found guilty of collaborating with the evil powers of this earth and for that the penalty is death!" The voice declared, Katherine recognized it as the voice of the Father who had chanted during her torturings.

"But fear not my children, our Lord is a forgiving God, he has found mercy for you and that is why you have been purged, now comes the final test of faith, your bodies shall be purged by fire so that your souls may live! Rejoice for our God will receive you this day as a clean soul!"

With that the first victim was grabbed and thrust forwards, Katherine could not see the whimpering man but knew he was being shackled to something by the sounds of clanking metal, she also smelled burning, like the smell of burnt metal. The whimpering man began to moan as he too smelled it. He squirmed in his chains, desperately trying to get away.

"Rejoice and be cleansed of your sin before the Almighty, son!" The priest shouted. Something made a loud whooshing noise and Katherine could feel the heat of open flames in the air, the man screamed piteously, ravenously, loudly until he began to gurgle and then was silent. The sickening smell of burned flesh permeated the air. Katherine sobbed, the guards hauled the charred body away and then she was hauled up by a pair of huge hands and shoved towards the slab, she could see nothing but shivered, knowing her time was at hand. She cried as she was put on the slab, anticipating the horrendous pain she would endure before dying, but most of all she wept because she knew now she would never see him again.

"Rejoice and be cleansed of your sin before the Almighty, daughter!" The priest again said, Katherine winced, anticipating the flames that would sear her flesh from her bones...

But there was nothing, she waited for a few moments for death to greet her but nothing happened, she heard hushed voices around her wondering what was going on themselves. Suddenly, loud boot falls and yells were heard from down the hall and Katherine swore she could hear the sound of gunfire and screaming somewhere above her.

"What in God's name is going on up there?" The Father asked. A panting, trembling voice answered him.

"Beasts! Beasts everywhere! They came out of the forest and climbed the walls, they are overrunning the compound!"

"What--" Began the Father, he was cut off by a bone shattering explosion in a far wall that threw everyone standing to their feet with the shockwave and even sent a few captors screaming to their deaths with the debris. Katherine was beginning to panic, with the blindfold on she had no idea what was going on and feared she may die at any moment.

She heard a sound she had not heard in years, the sound of a pack of howling, blood maddened wolves on the attack, men screamed, she heard flesh being torn and bone being snapped, she smelled blood being spilled and voided bowels. For minutes gunfire and the sound of tearing flesh were the only things that met her ears, she heard the oaths to God shouted by the last of her captors that were killed without mercy. Finally it became relatively quiet and she heard voices again.

"What the hell is this place?" A voice asked.

"This is where the six fingered hand purges the unclean." Another voice spat in disgust.

"Heartless bastards." She heard one snarl.

"Free the prisoners, we have to move soon, the boss wants this entire place cleaned out."

Katherine's mind could not comprehend what was happening, she still thought she was in danger as someone let her down from the slab and undid her shackles. A small wolf smiled at her as she got down off the slab.

"Well aren't you--" He began before narrowly missing her clawed hand. "Hey!" He said ducking under another savage blow. "Take it easy!"

A strong hand gripped her arm from behind and stopped her from singing again, she came around with her other arm and slashed the other wolf, nicking him in the face and causing him to yell and let her go.

"Bastards! I'll kill all of you if you touch me again!" She screamed baring her fangs and backing away from the two wolves who looked at her surprised. She was just about to turn and run down the corridor when two strong hands grabbed her from behind and choked her into submission and unconsciousness.

She came to groggily hearing voices around her and once again thinking she was in danger began to tense up.

"Easy! We're not here to hurt you." One of the wolves said putting his hands up defensively. She kept her claws in a striking pose and snarled at the wolves around her.

"Stay back, who the hell are you?!" She yelled at them angrily.

"Try the men who just saved your sorry life." A cold voice said from behind her, she turned her head to see who it was and immediately dropped her hands, too surprised to do much but stare. There, with his hands in his pockets stood the man she had only seen in her dreams for the past hundred years. As stoic as she'd always remembered him, as strong as he'd always been.

"Syd?" She asked barely able to believe her eyes. Harlow looked her in the eyes with absolutely no warmth.

"Looks like you got yourself deep in it this time Katherine." He said simply. She got on her shaky legs to try to give him and embrace but he firmly pushed her away.

"I...Syd, I--" She said, unable to form what she wanted to say, how happy she was to see him, asking him why he was here and what he was doing and all these questions were bursting in her brain and she had no way to vocalize them she was so shaken. Harlow could see his men stared confusedly at the two of them.

"Go sweep the rest of this place and come back to me with a report." He said and waved them away, once the two were alone, Katherine spoke, unable to look away from Harlow.

"Syd, how did you find me?" She asked. He was silent for a moment and didn't even look at her as he spoke in an even tone.

"Not by trying, this place should have been torn to the ground years ago for all the grief its caused, these sick religious fanatics deserve what they got today."

Katherine was taken aback by his distances approach to her, she remembered how close they had been all those years ago and her fractured, tortured mind refused to remember how hard it had been for both of them to separate.

"Oh, I just thought---" She began feebly before Harlow finished for her angrily.

"What? You thought I was here like some sort of knight in shining armor come to whisk you away after you left me? You think I forgot what you did all those years ago?" He asked, now confronting her, she felt tears well up in her eyes once again and stream down her dirty face.

"Syd, I...I can't tell you how sorry I am, how much I--" She tried but was cut off again.

"You're sorry!? You leave me a century as a miserable wretch and you're sorry?!" He asked and began to stomp off. "I don't need this gak." He said as he walked away. Katherine fell to her knees unable to stand on them as she felt them turn to jelly under her.

"How do you think I felt after I left?! Do you think I was happy?! I was confused! By the time I realized what I'd thrown away..." She began shouting at Harlow as he walked away. She bowed her head as she trailed off and sobbed.

"It was too late." She whispered quietly

She sat there on her knees, unable and unwilling to go on. A few moments passed quietly into a few minutes of silence, if she had not been looking at the floor she would have seen Harlow standing in the hallway with his back turned to her as if trying to decided something. After a few more moments she heard footsteps walk up to her and two strong hands lift her to her feet. She stared Harlow in the face and noticed Harlow had taken off his hat in his hand, standing there as if he expected her to say something .

"I have spent the past century, dreaming about the day I'd see you again, I just--" She began in tears but was stopped as Harlow grabbed the back of her neck and gently leaned forwards and kissed her on the mouth. It was a move she was not expecting and at first was surprised but after a moment returned the embrace and after another moment they separated and Katherine looked at his smirking face confusedly.

"I never stopped loving you girl." He said softly. "What you did those years back, that hurt me more than anything ever has. As much as I want to hate you for it, I cant. I want you to know that if anyone on this earth is worthy of forgiveness I think its you."

Katherine tried to say something but all that came out was the first joyous laughter she'd had in a long time. The two sat there in each other's arms until Harlow finally split from her and led her up to the main hall of the castle where she was allowed to change out of the rags and followed him to where a group of wolves stood over a group of her hateful captors, all of them were wounded somehow and it appeared the wolves were about to kill all of them on a firing squad.

"What do we do with the prisoners?" One of the wolves asked Harlow. He looked them each in the eye with a scowl which they returned, he then looked at Katherine for a moment before smiling wickedly and turning back to the wolf in front of him.

"The survivors have been either clawed or bitten, yes?" He asked the wolf smiled as well.

"Yes sir."

"Shackle them, we'll bring them with us, the full moon is in a few days, soon they will know the "sin" we are all cursed with." He said spitefully and exited the room. Katherine thoroughly enjoyed the looks of horror on their faces as each of them thought what they would be in a few nights. She finally caught up with Harlow as they began loading trucks outside.

"Where are we going?" She asked hesitantly.

"Somewhere safe." He said. "I'll have to introduce you to Natasha when we get there."

"Who?" She asked confused and tired.

"My employer and benefactor." He said. A lanky wolf with a mohawk came up to him as he was about to get into the truck.

"All packs are accounted for, we've had some losses but nothing too serious, for the most part they didn't see what hit them."

"Good, flatten this place." Harlow said.

"Who's this?" Alex asked.

"Oh, Alex, meet your great grandmother; Katherine."

The two looked at each other wide eyed as Harlow chuckled from inside the truck.

"This is going to take some time to get used to." He said cheerily.

OOC: Damn...I have got to stop writing books...

Joker had loved to be home at the King's compound, it was one of the few times he felt legitimately safe. And even then it wasn't completely a safe haven. They had had their share of fight on their own territory but with the massive barred gate and constant guard patrol and compound filled with his friends and family, he was considerably safer then he was most days. Whenever he was home it just felt like the calm before the storm. The longer he was home the bigger job the King had for him. Before he had been sent to pragque he was home for nearly two weeks.

The sound of the shower stopped and joker stepped out quickly drying himself off with a towel. The whole bathroom looked blinding white with marble floors and white walls, Joker didn't care for it but wasn't going to complain about anything while home. He Changed back into his suit and straightened his tie admiring himself in the mirror for a few moments before exciting the bathroom into the hall, the hall was filled with people nodding at Joker as they passed him but moving on his way. He figured he would go out and drink a little perhaps find a girl. He put on is jacket and headed for the door suddenly someone jerked him around as he was walking. He was face to face with Knight again.

"What is it? I'm just about to leave. Care to join me?" Joker asked nonchalant making a second attempt to leave.

"Oh no you don't," Knight said firmly hurrying to stand between him and the door, "I've been looking all over for you."

"Well here I am. Be quick about it I'm edging to get out of the place and drink myself into a coma."

"You'll have time to destroy your liver later. The King wants to see you."

Joker smiled

"Knight, sometimes I think you've become little more than a glorified messenger."

"Hey I used to be young once, blowing gak up and killing people, good riddance." He said with a chuckle. "Leave young deeds to the young, besides I'm old and grouchy, I'd probably just hurt my back and yell at someone to get off my lawn." He smiled. With Knight standing between the door he had a better chance crossing a thousand feet stone wall that was on fire.

"Alright," Joker said submissively, "take me to him."

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The King's throne room looked well, like the throne room of an ancient king. He had a long purple rug leading up to two thrones, one occupied by a man who always wore a stern face, he had long grey hair neatly combed that hung down to about shoulder length. He had a defined jaw with a grey goatee covering his chin. The other seat lay desolately empty, a painful reminder of what the Black Serpents had managed to take from them, Joker's mother.

Joker entered the room and walked before his father quickly falling to one knee to bow. The didn't have the normal father-son relationship. He never knew his father to be that cool dad but more of a authority figure he strives to please. The King's signs of affection were far and few but a hand on the shoulder and a good job had been all Joker needed to strive for perfection in what he was tasked with. Failure wasn't an option.

"Rise my son." The King commanded standing up with a large grin on his face and moved to embrace Joker in a hug. Joker rose and hugged him back, this is what he mainly fought for. He had never really had love from his parents. He was an orphan young and when the King took him in he had to fight for every scrap of respect he was given. He was born to fight the King's wars and die for him, in return he got a father.

"You wanted to see me about something?" Joker asked looking around the room the only other ones in the room where Knight who now stood at the right side of the King;s throng admiring the two. And the Red Knight who sat on the left side of Queens empty throne, a air of sadness that seemed to resonate off of him.

"Yes," He began " I got a message the other day from some Hunters in Arizona, the network pestering us again. They need more men to guard the work site since some attack happened a while ago on a different one they wanted to jump start security. I could have said no seeing as I have already done more than enough for them but I confess it peaked my interest think of it, a different world. Can you imagine the power of a different world? I need to know what it is like."

The King was cut off by the doors to his room being barged open and two men in black suites entering with a very cross expression on their face. Each one of them had grabbed hold of a young man's arm and had dragged him into the throne room. His face was etched with fear and he looked like he was nearly about to void his bowels. "What is this!?" The King demanded upon seeing this.

"He's useless! Just useless!" Cried out one of the men whose face was now red with anger.

"I'm sorry. He was jerking around too much and I was nervous. I didn't know how to get them out without causing damage so I just left them in there. I should have known it would be a temporary solution at best." The man being carried said nervously.

"Someone tell me what's going on before I grow impatient." The king stated.

Realizing that the King was about to become very angry if no one properly explained the situation one of the men began "A week ago you decided it would be good for Spades here" He said gesturing to the man they had dragged in 'To be our medic because he had medical experience."

"That's right." The King stated, "it was the only place I could put him, do you question my judgement?"

"Well...er...No sir. It's just that a week ago after a raid by the Black Serpents I was shot in the stomach and needed to be patched up. During the surgery this idiot had been fumbling around everything in a panic to help me and dropped his car keys in my open wound, and then not realizing what to do he sowed my wound up with the keys still inside."

"Don't worry!" 2 Of Spades interjected flushed with embarrassment , "I had a spare in the car..." The King's face darkened with disappointment as he eyed Spades.

"I tried to put you to use you as a favor to a friend. But wherever I seem to put you it only causes more harm then good.' The King stated as he glared.

Joker quickly tried to think of something to say. "Once a King's Men always one. You can't get rid of him. He's our problem until death."

"Yes, until death." The King stated as a wicked grin crossed his face. He turned his attentions back to Joker, "You will go to Arizona and assist these Hunters in whatever they require you to do, and..." He said a he paused for a moment, " The Black Knight and this... 2 Of Spades will accompany you." Joker had moved to protest upon hearing this but knew that the King's word had been final.

"When do I leave?" Joker asked annoyed at how this encounter had turned out.

"Immediately." The King answered indefinitely.

WARORK93 wrote: I can hold my own against any of these jokers!" She exclaimed

Oh, I'm not so sure about that.

(sorry,i may of gotten a few detail wrong on past events,please correct me if im wrong.)

sarah laughed “so this bitch natasha runs the werewolves like a cult,while you 'brothers' scrabble as this cain is missing?” slender smiled,and laughed himself. Laughing was the one human thing he understood,to a degree. He didn’t know why so many were addicted to it though. He stopped and shrugged,taking a mental note that he only had 10 minute before charles would need to be home.

sarah then asked “so..why is it you hate your fellow 'leeches' so much,and side with the humans?” slender cringed. He gripped his chair hard.

“bad memories,my dear,very bad..i..i have my reasons.” he quickly jumped back onto the topic at hand.
“its old info,to say it kindly. I haven’t seen another creature of the night in 40 years,but Ive heard whispers from the shadows saying war is looming.” standing up,he smiled at the odd human “well seems are time is up,young odd sarah.” she looked slightly upset.

“aww,but this is so cool! When will you be back then?” slender laughed,and brushed off his shoulders.

“oh no,you cant stay here. Ill be back in 2 days,if you really wish to learn more.” she smiled, and nodded as he walked out,straightening his tie.

“ill be here!” he heard her yell as she ran off to wherever she lived. Slender quite enjoy telling her the horrors of the night. Yet she never got afraid. She seemed to enjoy the thought that murderous monsters roamed the night. As slender climbed the roofs to head home, he couldn’t help but remember those painful memories. no..no! Your a shadow,only a shadow. hu..humans are nothing more than rats in your lab! They mean nothing but learning! Nothing! You only want to help them for yourself,nothing else! Nothing! Slender stopped,and slammed a fist into a sign. He heard the neon lights on the other side break and go out,and people yelling. Sighing,he straightened his tie and continued on his way.

As he entered his home,charles was tackled by the loving girls. As always,he went through his routine. Kiss on the head,kiss for the wife,small talk, dinner,kids tucked in, couch. The tv wasn’t on,he realized,but he didn’t see the remote anywhere. He was about to ask brianna were it was when he heard her say she was going out shopping. That was odd,brianna never shopped this late. Charles would be worried,but slender was curious.

“why you leaving so late? You shop in the mourning’s.” he heard her stop, and felt her turn and smile at him.

“well after last night I felt so good I slept in late.” he heard her giggle,and did so too. As she left,charles found the remote on the counter,next to a wal-mart sack. Something about the sack was odd,but he shrugged and ignored it. Sitting back down,he turned the TV to the news.

“-and with this final push, meat man corps now owns every meat manufacturing plant in las vegas. In just 2 days they have taken over the market,using new methods put in place by their sales CEO charles backhand.-”

charles flipped off the TV. With a smile,he leaned back,and then frowned. The bag...wasn’t there when he left...which means brianna had gone shopping. Slender jumped up. He had just realized something,what was briannas job? He had never been able to track her,and had assumed she was a stay at home mom,but she had talked about work before. Charles heard the door open,and turned quick,only to see a gun pointed at his chest, and tears coming down briannas cheeks.

“who are you? Wheres my husband? I know your not him! He never skips work, he never goes in alleys,and he wouldn’t be sketched by police saying he murdered someone!” slender bit his lip. Looks like those 2 guys had wasted his mercy. Straightening his tie,he smiled as a look of horror crossed her face.

As the skin melted off of him,he said “im slender von maun, a skin stealer, a vampire,and totenmaske. And currently in need of making sure you and those gag hoodlums dont ever speak. Ever...again.”

darksage wrote:

WARORK93 wrote: I can hold my own against any of these jokers!" She exclaimed

Oh, I'm not so sure about that.

...no pun intended...

WARORK93 wrote:

darksage wrote:

WARORK93 wrote: I can hold my own against any of these jokers!" She exclaimed

Oh, I'm not so sure about that.

...no pun intended...

It's on. Joker has his rival.

darksage wrote:

WARORK93 wrote:

darksage wrote:

WARORK93 wrote: I can hold my own against any of these jokers!" She exclaimed

Oh, I'm not so sure about that.

...no pun intended...

It's on. Joker has his rival.

I'm actually going to be in Vegas when my official, timestamped RP's start. If anyone's going to be a rival, it's going to be me.

Chowderhead wrote:

darksage wrote:

WARORK93 wrote:

darksage wrote:

WARORK93 wrote: I can hold my own against any of these jokers!" She exclaimed

Oh, I'm not so sure about that.

...no pun intended...

It's on. Joker has his rival.

I'm actually going to be in Vegas when my official, timestamped RP's start. If anyone's going to be a rival, it's going to be me.

I have no idea why but I actually imagine Joker and Musater getting along swimmingly if it weren't for this whole race war thing.

darksage wrote:

Chowderhead wrote:

darksage wrote:

WARORK93 wrote:

darksage wrote:

WARORK93 wrote: I can hold my own against any of these jokers!" She exclaimed

Oh, I'm not so sure about that.

...no pun intended...

It's on. Joker has his rival.

I'm actually going to be in Vegas when my official, timestamped RP's start. If anyone's going to be a rival, it's going to be me.

I have no idea why but I actually imagine Joker and Musater getting along swimmingly if it weren't for this whole race war thing.

I have to agree. (Psst! Alliance?)

Chowderhead wrote:

darksage wrote:

Chowderhead wrote:

darksage wrote:

WARORK93 wrote:

darksage wrote:

WARORK93 wrote: I can hold my own against any of these jokers!" She exclaimed

Oh, I'm not so sure about that.

...no pun intended...

It's on. Joker has his rival.

I'm actually going to be in Vegas when my official, timestamped RP's start. If anyone's going to be a rival, it's going to be me.

I have no idea why but I actually imagine Joker and Musater getting along swimmingly if it weren't for this whole race war thing.

I have to agree. (Psst! Alliance?)

Yeah! And we could forget about war and fighting and just RP them hanging out.

After traveling all night he finally found a place just as dawn was about to break, on the very out skirts of Las Vegas.. Jumping over the old fence Florence walks through the graveyard. With tombstones scattered left and right, most covered with moss, it is obvious to him that no one frequents the place. The graveyard itself is not much to look at a bunch of small tombstones overgrown or at least partially covered with moss on a hill with a crypt on top of the hill.
“but it will do” he says aloud.

Stopping at the crypt he looks past, and sees that the graveyard is much bigger than it appears. That beyond this initial hill is several acres of tombstones all scattered about in some random pattern. Some big, some small. A couple that look like he could even hide his massive body behind.

With the suns glow starting to warm the horizon he runs over the crypt and slides the slab over and looks inside. There is a stars leading down. Down, down into the darkness. Feeling rather exhausted Florence simply steps inside and closes the slab behind him, leans against a wall and falls asleep.

BIC:………Light in the Darkness: part three…………

Vegas and Matt arrived at the makeshift camp. Matt immediately threw his heavy backpack on the ground, sweat pouring from under his cap. “Everything, all right kid?” James asked. His misty grey eyes watching the exhausted boy. Next to him lay the rest of Vegas crew. Bags placed against the crumbled wall, leaning against their newly created cushion. All their eyes closed, leaving only James to keep an eye out. They didn’t look like much, a rag tag bunch of misfits. If society still had existed, each of them would have been serving life sentences, death penalties. Documentaries of the criminally insane would have been shot around them. But then again, none of them would have changed into this if the world itself hadn’t changed. They all came to her, like bees to honey. They all heard the stories of the Wasteland ghost, The human that couldn’t be killed. One for one they searched for her, not wanting to stand there. Helpless. They Refused to hide underground, like the rest of the freemen. Their sorrow and anger needed an outlet, not a bunker. And Vegas provided just that.

There was no fire inside the remains of the old roadhouse. Light could be spotted from miles away, in the night sky. Making light itself a hazard to their own survival. Besides wood became increasingly scarce, entire forest died and withered under the veil. Plus there were more useful things for good strong wood, she thought placing her trusted stakes deeper in their leather scabbards. James had always admired how fast she fought with those things in her hands. “Did we receive the call?” James asked, his eyes now resting upon her. James had to be almost fifty, not that anyone was sure. Time had no meaning anymore. Vegas couldn’t even remember her own age. His messy black hair showed the first strings of gray. He was Vegas unofficial second in command. It was never said, but when she wasn’t there, everyone listened to the old veteran. He had seen more of the unnatural then any one of them, seeing as he once was a Hunter of the long dismantled network. James was their greatest source of information concerning ‘them’. Making him a vital part of their little crew.

“Monk told us that our target has left the city.” Vegas replied. James grunted as he crawled back on his feet. “Wake up, you dogs!” James said, unceremoniously kicking them awake. “Vegas has brought a gift, time to tear it apart.” Vegas smiled as her shabby crew stood up, unkempt hair, scruffy beards. They looked like refugees from a war. The only thing that was clean and polished, their guns and weapons. James pulled the last of the murky green containers out of his backpack, handing one over to each member of her seven headed crew. “No, chicken flavored one?” Michael joked. Vegas had heared the same sentence over and over again. But still a small smile appeared on the majority of the crew. “Maybe, next time.” James mockingly said. He placed the canister in a small device, placing the point of the thing right on his artery. The needle easily pierced the skin, injecting the precious liquid directly in his bloodstream. James cleaned the injector pistol and handed it over to Michael. “Bon appetite.” He said. One for one they injected themselves. And when Matt took the pistol as the last one, a familiar face appeared.

“Good evening, everyone.” Jill said, with a fake Texan accent. Her familiar tattered cowboy hood proudly sitting on top of her. A small sheriff star proudly displayed on her chest.“Morning.” Michael replied, rubbing his weary eyes. “Nah, it’s evening boy.” Jill said pointing up. “Me and my palls here.” She said pointing to the three shadowy figures, lurking in the tree line. “Are here for our pick up, milady .” Jill was one of the strangest persons you could ever meet. She could talk for days about the silliest of things. She had even talked a week about nothing else but candy wrappers. At least that was what her pet stone told Vegas once. But for all her curiosities, you couldn’t deny she was one of the fastest Runners on the wastelands. A necessary talent, to keep the Vampirii unaware of the human settlements. “Cause me and my homeboys,” she continued, now with a Brooklyn accent. “we’re getting a bit hungry, if ya know what I mean.” “Sorry, Jill. The supplies are still on it’s way.” Vegas apologized. “Ain’t a thing, but a chicken wing.” She said, immediately throwing herself on the ground. “Me and Kibbles, are just going to wait then.” “Kibbles? What happen to Brock the rock?” Vegas asked, as she saw Jill pulling out a red plush animal. “A rock?” Jill laughed. “Who the hell talks to rocks? You must be losing it, Vegas.” Vegas was horribly confused, sadly this was not an exception if you dared talking to Jill. “That crazy girl.” She heard Michael mutter.

Vegas looked over to the tree Runners who seemed contend with lurking in the shadows. They had been silent, until Jill mentioned who she was talking to her. “Vegas?;……is she……imagined…. taller.” She heard them whisper. Vegas didn’t mind, She did this all for them. The ones too scared to venture in the wastelands. Someone needed to help them, and if stories of her kept them alive. Then it was something she could live with. She looked at her crew, it was time to get to work. The supplies could be arriving any minute. Everyone grabbed their gear for the short walk to the road, where the transaction would take place. “Try to find some with chicken flavor.” Jill asked them while trying to balance Kibbles on her forehead.

The figure stood in the center of the pentacle, his arms held outstretched before him as if in the moment before an embrace. His crimson robes were lined with golden thread which seemed to shimmer as he moved, like a metallic stream in an ocean of blood. His hood was thrown back, revealing the handsome face that lay stretched upon his skull. His slightly curled black hair was short and uniform, orderly and controlled. His eyes were of the deepest garnet, piercing and unimaginably intelligent and cruel. It had taken weeks for the body to mold to his previous features, a grueling process that had been hastened with the regular application of surgery and magick. The mind had taken even longer, for his host had been of an especially strong will, fighting his possessor for every metaphysical inch of his body and soul. But as always, Pontius was victorious, claiming the willworker's body as his own. It had been a difficult and arduous process, but the Dyybuk had managed to retain the mage's arcane might, locking away a portion of his soul rather than consuming it, using it to fuel his dread powers, powers he now used to direct the thirteen other Kindred arrayed around him.

They were Strigoi, with cadaverous, predatory bodies covered in parchment-like skin, each as pale as a maggot. Each of the vampires was an Ancient, having survived the millennia studying their dark and forbidden tomes. The Strigoi were highly prized for their penchant as sorcerers of the blackest sort, skilled in the most twisted of magicks. The Strigoi were known for something else as well: Kinslaying. The gaunt vampires had a taste for the blood of other Kindred, a habit that made them reviled by others of their unclean race. The thirteen Strigoi had spent the last nine days in a gluttonous feast of Kindred Vitae, draining dry the bodies of dozens of vampires to increase their own arcane talent. Behind the Strigoi, hundreds of corpses littered the chamber, their bodies broken and mutilated to conform to the shapes of unnatural sigils and glyphs. It had taken weeks to prepare the ceremony, weeks well spent in the eyes of the Roman.

Pontius began to chant in the heathen tongue of Atlantis, the Strigoi joining in on the dark song, their words warping the air as reality itself protested. The bloody runes of the pentacle glowed a deep crimson around the Prince, twisting and buckling into even more obscene shapes. As the black orison reached its zenith, Pontius gazed towards the ceiling, which even now began to fade, replaced by an infinite starry void. Spitting out the last syllable of the spell, the Roman shot his hands forward, pointing them at the abyss. Adding to his magickal strength, the Strigoi stretched forth their bony hands towards the Dyybuk, filling him with dark power. From Pontius' fingertips sprang a stream of black starstuff which rent the void asunder, ripping the Veil apart in a single cataclysmic event. The stream continued to flow from the Roman, spiraling and lashing about as a link between the Crooked World and the mortal plane was forged. The location was precise, the Dyybuk having taken special care to ensure exactly were the Veil would be torn. Somewhere in Arizona, reality trembled, the Veil splitting and crumbling. The hole would cause horrible damage to the state as a whole if it was allowed to persist, inviting alien denizens to make a playground of the homes of the Cattle. This was something Pontius could not allow, not yet. Beginning the second stage of the ritual, Pontius sung anew, but this time alone. The Strigoi found they were unable to stop fueling the Dyybuk's spell, their bodies crumpling and imploding till they were naught but dust as their very souls were sucked away. The tear in the Veil healed slightly, but the planar scab was paper-thin, designed to hide the true extent of the wound. The swirling beam spun ever more slowly until it simply ceased its motion and drifted away like smoke in a fell wind. Pontius smiled, so the Cattle sought to invade his realm? Well, then let them come, he had prepared the way...

Fantastic as always Mordo.

Joker is so f*cked.

Yeah nice one mordo!

BIC:………Light in the Darkness: Part four…….

The cartwheels slowly churned trough the landscape. Skeletal horses pulling the heavy carts behind them, manned by two ghouls and four Vampiric protectors. All clad in the same pale green uniform, the symbol of the Acari Clan burned in their foreheads. They slowly followed the dusty path towards their city, carrying the tribute from their Dominus to the city. The Ghoul managing the first carriage, was uneasy to say the best. His eyes constantly twitching from one side to another. He had traversed this road any times, he didn’t like this path. It took them too close to Rek’shilva. all the rest of his compagnions, just laid back. Content with the shorter path that would give them some private time in the city. Their master thought they would take the long way around, an illusion they liked to keep intact. The guard next to the stressed ghoul, started muttering to himself. He always did that when he was asleep. How a vampire could sleep so deep like him? The ghoul could never find out why. The ghoul placed his vision back on the road, unhappy his dutiful guard had stolen his concentration. The ghoul yelped as he pulled the reigns towards him, abrubtly stopping the cart. The ghoul on the second cart cursed as he almost plowed into the first carriage. He didn’t listen.

Before him in the middle of the road stood a lonesome figure. The cigarette illuminated her face. The ghoul felt sweat pouring from his forehead, as the loner watched him. The guards had also noticed the threat and quickly jumped to the foreground. Two crossbows aimed at the woman, who didn’t seemed worried at all. The rest unsheated their weapons, prepared to use it. Except the dozed up guard next to him. It was only a single girl, the ghoul thought. “We serve the Acari clan.” He shouted towards the mysterious person. “Remove yourself from this path, or we’ll be forced to move you from it.” The ghoul licked his lips. Maybe they should just kill her. A small snack during a long trip, had never hurt someone. The woman slowly exhaled a plume of smoke, before she started speaking. “I claim your carts in the name of myself, please remove yourself or I will do it for you.” The ghoul laughed. She was alone, what could she possibly do? “And who are you?” he asked, she would taste great. “They call me Vegas.” She replied, bowing down. “Vega…Shoot her! Quickly…” That was as far as the ghoul could get. The steel barrel of a gun resting against his neck. He wasn’t the only one, wretched Humanii had crept behind them like spineless dogs. He could reek the smelly odor of delicious flesh. “Don’t even think about it.” The man behind him said. “Get them of the carts.” Vegas commanded, as she signaled the runners to get out of their hiding place.

Jill was the first one on the scene, her hands holding the tattered cowboy hat in place. She jumped on the carriage pulling the plastic covers away. Revealing the precious cargo. Muddy green Canisters. The fuel that kept the donors in the blood farms alive. Now they would keep the freemen alive. Jill counted the canisters carefull, placing herself next to the sleeping guard. Matt standing next to her, his pistol aimed at the guards head. Unsure about what he would do with his prisoner. “I don’t know.” Jill said with a very business oriented voice. “Are you sure this is the highest quality on the market?” “Finest in the world.” Vegas replied, calming the unsettled horses. “hmm…” Jill frowned, seemingly calculating in her head. “Sadly there is no chicken flavored once in this batch. So I’ll have to decline our deal.” She jumped off, walking away. Michael rolled his eyes, as did many other members of her crew. Jill was way too unpredictable. Luckily the other Runners where content with their price, as they had already calmed the horses of the second carriage. Ready to do what they came for. Running.

“What if I gave them free off charge?” Vegas said to Jill, who suddenly turned around. “A minute please.” She asked pulling Kibbles from her pocket, discussing if they should agree. The captives slowly looked around hoping, to find a way out. Sadly these Humanii were clever and never lost sight to them. The ghoul cursed to himself. He knew they had to take the long way around. Rek’shilva just wasn’t safe. After a heated discussion, Jill placed Kibbles back. “Me and my associate have decided. You drive a hard bargain, and we have no choice but to accept your harsh demands.” “Good.” Vegas grinningly said. “The lets get moving.” Jill jumped onto the stand, pulling the reigns in her own hands. “Hey, what about this guy?” she shouted. Thumping the dozed off guard in it’s face. The man was immediately awaked. His panicked eyes, staring at all the strange faces. The smell of thumping blood searing his nose. Without a hint, he grabbed his dagger. Burrowing it deep in the stomach of his carriage. Jill froze as she saw the dagger penetrating Matt. But that didn’t related to Vegas. “A gunshot roared through the wasteland. The guard staggered, watching his destroyed ribcage. James quickly jumped on the carriage, finishing the guard. Matt laid down, his hands firmly placed on the wound. Warm blood slowly trickling out. “I’m sorry.” He whispered. As howls Of beasts replied to the sound of Vegas’ gunshot.

“Bloodhounds!” Michael shouted as he recognized the vicious sounds. Vegas cursed, they needed to act fast. “Kill the worms.” She commanded. “Empty your bags and fill them with canisters.” Gunshots roared as the rest dumped their belongings, quickly filling it with canisters. Vegas ran to the two carriages, slicing through the ropes that connected the horses to their burden. Michael shoved his backpack right into Jill’s hands, who was still looking at the wounded boy. “Get out of here Jill” James commanded. He tore his sleeve from his shirt, pouring his water canteen over it. Hoping to sanitize it somewhat before bandaging Matt with it. “Sir, Yes sir.” She answered, taking over the voice of a rugged Veteran. She quickly climbed on one of the horses Vegas had freed. The rest of the runners did the same, while trying to hold on to several bags. “Move!” Vegas barked. The Runners quickly bounced forwards. “Semper fi!” Jill howled as she took the lead position.

Suddenly a dark figure appeared, using it’s massive back legs to crash into a horse. The poor animal stood no chance to the ferocious Bloodhound tearing through her neck. The Humans quickly repelled. Firing hot lead at the demonic hound. Who whimpered as it died. The runner got back up, his right arm dangling down. He quickly looked around, unsure about what happened before he followed the horse tracks. Running for his live. In the mean time, Michael had placed Matt in his massive arms. “We need to move!” James bellowed. Vegas cursed as she noticed two addition shadows barraging through the woods, hunting for the Runners. Vegas hoped they would make it, as she turned around to the more pressing matters. “Run, gak run!” she screamed as she jumped back into the forest. Choosing the direct opposite of the runners. Her crew quickly following her mad dash.

On top of the hill overlooking the road, Mattheus smiled. For a moment he thought his informant had given him the wrong information. He was already planning to head back to Rek’shilva, to crucify the arrogant Exciled one. Lucky for him, that they had heard the gunshot. He watched as the two remaining hounds followed the Runners. “Call them back.” He commanded the Beast master. “ Our prey is heading the other way.” The beast master blowed his vicious whistle, as Mattheus and consorts descended the hills. “We won’t find her in the hills.” Aries said. Mattheus looked at the walking skeleton. “Don’t worry Watcher, I have no hope in finding them. But I can lead them to where I want them to go.” Mattheus grinned. He was so close to his goal, He could almost see Arl’nev before his eyes. And this time this wretched Humanii would stop her insulting existence. Aleron followed closely behind, his hands caressing his two trusty hammers. If he played his cards right, he could measure himself to Vegas, the Wasteland ghost. His blood boiled at the prospect of this battle. It would be a kill he could remember for the rest of eternity.

(I had a post in the works but am not posting it yet, this was another one that was eating t my mind. Lets have some epic plane fights. )


Derrick Sighed, frustrated as the plane took off for California, Slender Von Maun had escaped them. Again. And this time he left a very violent trail, Police had been all around the house and said that a man had murdered his wife, but apparently he had microwaved himself first.
That was concrete evidence in a Totenmaske attack. The plane was set to leave, so the two had had to get onboard and wait for another time to track down the Kindred.

Derrick leafed through the rest of the briefcase on the trip, he located one folder and removed it from the bag.

Details of: OP ‘Midnight Asp’

Derrick opened the file, he smiled to himself, the Fang were one of the more paramilitary organizations of Lycan society, they had ranks, Derrick was heading to meet with the leaders, most Lycanic top brass were gathered in California, to pledge their allegiance to the Queen of Wolves.
The Agency was going there to asses the situation, conduct a few missions, be ‘good dogs’ and possibly moonlight as ‘Bad Dogs’
Derrick removed the first picture from the folder, it was a house, it made his eyes feel like they wanted to avert themselves. The hairs on his arms felt like they wee crawling up his arms while he suppressed the urge to puke.

The image was titled SUBJECT 45: COOKED HOUSE

The next image was of some sort of Totenmasken like creature. it had a face though, gaunt, spindly and above all long fingers reached towards the camera from a horse-like face, it was leering hideously, titled ‘Thomas Rawhead’ TERMINATE WITH EXTREME PREDUDICE.
An attached photo of the Marl Pit was there as well. Derrick felt like burning it.
Glancing at the crooked house again, he felt his stomach heave.

“Scuse me man,” he said, as he elbowed past Ruiz.

Staggering to the large bathroom section of the plane, Derrick parted the curtain-like aperture separating the back seats from the rest of the plane.

Not many people were going on this flight, the only passengers were a sleeping man covered in a large blanket and a massive Russian looking flight attendant who glared at Derrick as if to say ‘Go away. Prick’
Derrick lurched to the bathroom and bent over the tile seat.
Nothing came.

It appeared that the image of the house had faded in his mind. Derrick no longer felt like he was going to puke, sighing, he turned back out.

In time to see the big flight attendant rush at him with a small knife.
Derrick’s instincts took over. hiijackers! he thought, and groped for the nearest weapon.
Unfortunately, planes are devoid of metal items of a pointy nature and so derrick grabbed the man’s arm instead.
Good God. This fether’s strength is incredible!

Derrick pushed at the man and shoved him hard, the man stumbled and raised the knife, Derrick grabbed for it but stopped when he touched the blade, it felt like he was sticking his am into a pile of hot coals.

Silver

Suppressing the urge to scream, Derrick kicked out at the Opriknikki and landed a blow in his left side, it was like kicking a brick wall.
Derrick took as much air as he could in his lungs and screamed to high heaven. Launching himself at the Opriknikki, who was jabbing vengefully at him, derrick heard the curtains fly back A voice shouted

“Freeze!”

Derrick dove to the ground and gambled with his life, he put his hands on his head.
The massive Vampire’s head snapped around at the figure, an air Marshall was aiming a short, pistol, a hollow point weapon that would not cause any damage to the plane.

The beast lowered it’s hands, bared it’s sharklike teeth and charged.
The Marshall fired a trio of shots at it’ chest, causing the kindred to stumble, Derrick groped for his pocket, producing a small tube, he carried it everywhere, it was a spring-loaded bone tube that fired a single stake, he had disassembled it and put into his carry-ons. You never knew when you would need a makeshift crossbow.

He leveled it at the opriknikki’s back, right at the heart and fired, the stake shot out of the barrel, slamming into the chest of the beast. It crashed to the ground, midway through ripping the Air Marshall’s head off, the man was very dead, but a good gun…
A sixth sense told the Vietnam Veteran to turn round. Behind him was a figure encased in a full-body bhurkah. Derrick’s eyes spotted the small details he had come to associate with Strigoi. The pointy ears peeking though the hood, the eyes of hate. The hand crackling with blood magik.

Derrick grabbed the Marshall’s pistol and aimed it at eh Kindred’s face. He fired the pistol once, twice, five times before the weapon was out of ammo.

The strigoi flew back, it’s head erupting in a shower of gore, it would take some time to heal so the Mgral stormed over to the corpse of the opriknikki. He grabbed the knife from it’s dead hands and clashed the carotid artery and jugular vein on it’s throat, it’s stolen Vitae spraying out and painting dark circles on the seats.

Derrick wrenched the stake from the beast’s body and reached a head into the hole, he exerted his unnatural strength to rip out the Monster’s heart and jump up and down on it until it burst in a shower of ichor.
Derrick took care to not touch the blade of the knife and staked the other vampire in the heart, before carving a square out of the chest of the Strigoi and removing it’s heart as well, the blood-covered werewolf took the vampire’s black heart and dropped it in the toilet.
Turning around, he heard a crash. A man in work clothes flew through to doors, his throat spurting.

An icy knife felt like it slipped through derrick’s skull and into his stomach.
Derrick threw aside the curtain, There were kindred everywhere. About a round half-dozen. Derrick pushed thought the melee and to his seat. Ruiz was gathering their things up.

“Here.” He said, tossing Derrick his Wlather P22

“What? How-”

“Disassembled it and put in different parts of my carry-on.” Said Ruiz, removing a long stake from his pocket.

“Always prepared?” Asked Derrick, staring at the jagged piece of wood.

“You learn a lot in the Gangs.” Said Ruiz, who had been an enforcer for the Latin Kings before he had been bit. Handing Derrick they briefcase. “In ‘Nam too.”

The two made their way through the fight towards the cabin, when they were about there, Ruiz looked at Derrick. “Why is this happening?”
“Search me.” Said Derrick, shrugging and cocking the slide on the sidearm back.
Derrick nodded at the Grubrah, who backed up, and Changed.

Ruiz’s wulfen form was massive, one of the largest Derrick had ever seen, in contrast to the short Hispanic build of Ruiz’s normal form, his other the ‘Dire Wolf’ was somewhere around eight feet tall, bordering on nine, his jaw was short and boxy, two fangs dripped drool over the slavering jaws. Massive claws the size of tire irons extended from his massive hands, which wer situated on long, dangling arms, He howled, a bestial noise that sent the attacking Kindred into a moment of confusion.

The Grubrah charged, it’s massive bilk speeding towards the sealed flight doors leading into the cockpit, Ruiz did not bother with the lock, instead, he tore the door from it’s hinges, flinging it like a giant discus at the mass behind him.
Derrick entered after, still in human form, his pistol raised in front.

When he came in, he saw that Ruiz was back in his humanii form. Glaring at the pilots, who been torn to pieces by some sort of blade. A single Ghoul was getting out of the mess, it’s bald head stamped with some sort of barcode. It drew a short sword, a Gladius. The thing’s jagged teeth were dripping blood and bits of flesh protrude from it. Derrick raised the pistol and fired again, and again, the ghoul stumbled, it’s heart had been pieced by the miniature wooden stakes, which were no more than the size of a pencil tip. It stumbled backward, hitting the floor.
Derrick looked over at Ruiz, then at the dead pilots.

“Bad?”

Ruiz nodded. “Bad.”

__----------------------__

Derrick pushed buttons and pulled levers, while Ruiz in his wolf form held off h mass of wolves, his huge form was covered in cuts, only clad in his pants and the aged tatters of his shirt. Howling in the delight of spilling blood. The melee was still going on, but now the kindred were fighting with a mass of panicking people.

Derrick glanced up at the windshield, the massive plane’s nose was approaching the ground fast.

Only one choice. Lycans came before Humanii

Derrick grabbed a parachute from the rack on the wall, a back parachute, military model.
He nodded at Ruiz, who ripped out the pilot’s chars and jammed hem into the doorway, changed, and grabbed a chute of his own
Derrick cocked the pistol and aimed it at the windshield.

“Here comes the sun.” he muttered, as he watched the Californian desert speed under them.
Pulling the trigger, Derrick head the bang, saw the flash and felt the rush of the wind and the explosion of a rapid decompression. He and Ruiz were sucked out of the plane, tumbling over the wild. Derrick fought for Consciousness as he saw the Plane continue on it’s beeline for the rock field several dozen miles away.

Derrick yanked the ripcord, the chute billowed out behind him, he looked up, Ruiz was also floating above him.
Derrick looked down at the approaching ground, he recalled all the times he had used a parachute in Vietnam and other countries.
Angling himself towards a forty-five degree float rather than a plummet, he watched as the desert came closer and closer…

With a snap like a gunshot, Derrick’s foot hit the ground, breaking.
As he blacked out a massive flash of an exploding Boeing 757 lit the landscape, his only thoughts were "At least I have my briefcase…”

Might not be that good, but what the hell, I suppose I have to keep up...

IC:

5 Months Ago

“You sure we’re heading to the right place?” Atlas asked, keeping an eye on the dark roads they drove through.

“I’m certain, through all my research, I found that she has moved to Peckham, and I also discovered that one of the houses here have recently been bought, a day just after she went missing,” Steve replied confidently. “All the evidence points to her being there.”

“Good. So she can lead us to Natasha?”

“Yep. I know her personally, she used to be a great friend of mine, and she said she was related to somebody really high up in the pack. Her sister,” he nodded.

“What was her name?” Atlas asked curiously.

“Not sure. Think it was something like… dunno, something like Cherri? Kerri?”

Atlas dropped the conversation on that note. The name Kerri sounded vaguely familiar, so he supposed he’d have to ask Dez to check the database. Or, of course, they could find out even sooner from this mysterious woman.
But of course, is Steve was taking them for a ride, Atlas wouldn’t hesitate to rip his fething head off.



“You’ll ring the bell, and if she lets you in I’ll follow after,” Atlas stated seriously. “If anything goes terribly wrong, you’ve got me, and Valentin’s also covering our backs from the rooftops. He’ll phase shift down here if we get into trouble. All clear?”

“Yeah,” he said, a bead of sweat falling down his forehead. “But you sure we have to do this? I ain’t seen here in some time…”

“We’re doing this whether you like it or not. Or how would you feel if we sent Natasha a note concerning your whereabouts?” the young man threatened. “And we might as well give her our addresses also seeing as we’ll be screwed if we don’t find out where she is!”

“Okay, okay! Jeez!” Steve shouted quickly, raising his hands in defence. “I’m just worried is all.”

“Don’t be. Do it.”

“Fine, fine.”

Steve rang the bell, and a few seconds later, the door opened slightly, and a face appeared in the space between the door and the frame. It was a woman who looked about 22ish. She had flowing ginger hair, and had blues eyes which melted away at Atlas, before he regained his composure, and stood behind Steve waiting of him to speak, but the girl spoke first.

“Steve?” the woman asked in a fairly Latina accent. “How did you find me? What do you want?”

“Ah, Bella!” he asked, wiping the sweat away from his brow. “I just recently heard that you moved to Peckham, thought I might drop in and see how you are!”

“Listen Bell, I’m really sorry to drop in on you like this, but this guy here,” Steve said, motioning to Atlas, who gave a nod. “He really needs to talk to you. It’s urgent, and it’s about Natasha.”

“Natasha?!” Bella said gobsmacked, before looking outside, left and right, before opening the door fully, with Atlas marvelling at her glorious figure. “I think you better come in.”

*******************************************************************************************

I am affiliated with a small group of rebel wolves who call themselves the Lunar Brotherhood,” Atlas stated clearly, taking a cup of tea graciously from Isabella’s hands. “For a long time now we have been enemies of the Wolf Queen Natasha and her entire pack. Only recently though has she found that we exist, thanks to a certain wolf who I’d rather not name.”

“You are openly rebelling against Natasha?” Bella asked confusingly.

“Well, no. Not really. She believes that they are broken, have no leadership, and are all either dead or separated. That is not true. They are rebuilding as we speak.”

“Why do you keep saying “they”? Are you not part of them?”

“I work with them, and that is what I would like to leave it as,” Atlas confirmed, deadly seriously. “But, back to the point. We lost here as soon as our last fight was over. Now we have no idea where she is. I agreed to come here to search England for any wolves who could know about her whereabouts. I met Steve, and he said you could know, as I hear you are related to somebody high up in her pack.”

“Um, well, I am. But, I heard she died recently,” Bella said, instantly turning quite emotional. “I was sent a letter, it detailed her death. I knew it was Natasha who sent it, she deeply loved Kerri.”

Atlas instantly sat forward in his chair, looking rather shocked.

“What?”

“She loved Kerri. And Kerri loved her,” she said, before shaking her head. “What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing. I just didn’t know.”

“So anyway, you want to find out where Natasha is, so you can kill her?”

“That is correct.”

“Yes, please,” Steve whispered, getting a dirty look from Atlas.

“There are bound to be some notes in this old place that I have kept with me. Kerri always told me everything, we we’re quite close,” Bella said, standing up. “I never liked Natasha. She’s a crazy bitch really. It’ll be good to see the back of her. You suck it up to her good when you find her, and I’m coming with you.”

“That’s completely understandable,” Atlas stated.

“Now, I’ll just go and have look through-wait!” Bella said, getting into a battle stance sniffing the air. “A Vampire! Here!”

“Wait!” Atlas shouted, standing up, and motioning for Bella to stand down. “It’s a friend,-I mean, an ally! I’ll go talk to him.”

“Your friends with a Vampire!?”

“Acquaintances! It’s alright, he’s helping us to get Natasha, now, just go and look for the notes, I’ll go talk to him.

“Fine, but be quick.”

************************************************************************************

“Valentin, what are you doing?!” Atlas shouted, storming out of the door, towards the dark figure in front of the house. “I told you to stay back.”

“I got bored, you we’re taking a long time,” he admitted, shrugging.

“Well I’m afraid I can’t just go in, force her to tell us where Natasha is, and think she’ll be nice to us,” he complained, his eyes blazing with anger.

“And why do you want her to be nice to us?”

“Because, well,” Atlas paused, cooling down a little, rushing his fingers through his hair. “You know, I really want to kill you, and it’s not just my instincts now.”

“You’re not doing this to get to Natasha are you?” Valentin asked, changing the subject, staying perfectly still.

“Shut up.”

“Your mind is on other things, and Natasha’s death is not one of those, is it now?”

“I said shut up!” Atlas repeated, sitting down on the pavement in frustration.

“I know what you want, and I can help you. You just have to let me.”

*****************************************************************************************

“I can’t talk right now, dammit!” Steve shouted quietly into the mobile. “Yes, I am still going ahead with it, but you’ve got to let me play my part. Now, please, leave me alone.”

“If you betray us, you know what will happen to you,” Natasha’s voice on the other end said.

“I know, but now is not the time, we have to wait, maybe find out where the rest of the Brotherhood are, but now is not the time as I keep saying!” Steve moaned pathetically. “Please, if they find out they’ll butcher me alive.”

“Don’t worry, you can go now. Just remember the deal, your complete acceptation back into the pack, for their lives. Don’t disappoint me.”

The line went dead.

______________________________________________________________________________________________

I love plot twists…

The desert flew by him as he took the lonely road into the bleak landscape outside the city. Harlow had never liked cities, they felt too cramped, too claustrophobic, there were too many eyes around to watch. Even so, they were just another part of life that he accepted and wouldn't let get in his way, and now the bleak orange desert of the Californian landscape whizzed by him on either side bordered only by the thin strip of back pavement that served as the highway. The three vehicles in the convoy had split up before reaching the very edge of the city and had only recently just met back up. That ploy was to throw off anyone who might have been following them without them knowing. Splitting up meant keeping the prize they had sacrificed a wolf for safer so they did that, fortunately when they had come back together at their rendezvous point, nobody had followed them.

Harlow had gotten to that point first, the last service station within a hundred miles of San Francisco, he could see the lights on the horizon from there as he leaned against his bike while he waited for the others to show. Thinking he probably had a few minutes he went ahead and made a call. The queen had ordered him to deploy her decree which he had no problems in doing. He called up a few analyst to get a list together of every sect and tribe and known clan under and outside the Queen's command. As soon as they had it compiled, Harlow would officially send the order and then it was open season on any lycan that didn't fall under those conditions. Harlow smiled grimly to himself as he thought about all the poor saps who would overthrow their masters out of fear and ally themselves to Natasha...there were bound to be quite a few in this world.

Soon the pack was back together and back on the road, another hour of riding put them well outside San Francisco and into the wilderness where the only noise besides the wind was the loud engine of Alex's car and the throaty roar of Harlow's bike. The landscape began to bump and hill until on one side mountains were seen, soon after this, the pack found a fork in the highway where the entrance to the separating path was blocked by a huge white sign that read "United States Government Property, No Trespassing" And underneath in finer print was a warning about violators being shot on sight. There were many government owned lands out in these deserts but this was not one of them, the ploy was perfect, with this sign in place no curious human would know of the Den's secret entrance. Harlow moved the sign aside and allowed the others to pass, coming in behind them after he had placed it back on the road and then getting back in front of the convoy before making it to the mountains ahead.

Another several minutes driving down the small road through the mountains revealed the heavily fortified entrance of the valley on the other side. The fortress might as well have been a military compound for its concrete constructs and steel frames, it was a lot less pleasing to the eye than the mansion in Prague was but then again it was more safe than that building could ever be. Harlow was never surprised to feel a bit of awe at how strong the Den looked from the entrance down in the bowl of the alley it sat in. He could already make out the patrolling guards near the gates and gun towers that hung above it. As they came closer, more details of these men became clear, each was wearing a set of combat gear and held assault weapons. Each had the air and look of a trained killer in their stance that Harlow knew well, and he knew it because he had trained them...

After the battle of the mansion it became clear to the Queen that the Lycan kind was facing a war for its survival, as such, her men needed to be more than simple wolves with guns and thugs, when needed an army, a trained one and that was where Harlow came in. Although he didn't like the fact that he was the one who had to do it he saw it as necessary as well and offered no resistance to being put in charge. His past military experience became invaluable as he spent months teaching the wolves under Natasha's command how to become better fighters, he had then sent his best performing students out across the world to teach the other tribes dedicated to the queen how to properly fight in a modern context. It was hard work but after a year of training around the clock, Natasha had her own private army ready to fight for her on every corner of the globe. Hell, even Alex had pitched in, teaching some of the wolves how to sneak and be stealthy while Katherine had even given some tips on how to operate vehicles. All together it was an accomplishment that though he would never admit it, Harlow was proud of and that feeling came to him whenever he saw one of the geared wolves on the prowl around the base, knowing that he had helped to make them into what they were.

The convoy pulled up to the front gate, Harlow gave the guard a nod who also nodded wordlessly and motioned for the wolf in the guard tower to throw the switch that opened the thick gate. The convoy drove in and soon they neared the main entrance to the Den, walking past more guards who were filing out, probably for more training exercises somewhere on the grounds. From the outside the Den looked for all intents and purposes like a large military base but on the inside were all the comforts and luxuries one would expect of royalty. Harlow and his pack made their way into a lobby where one of the compound's many servants waited. Harlow looked behind him quickly to make sure that Alex had the case, he did, it was just a small habit to double check. That made him think about how lucky they had been, it was only by virtue of the location of that hand off earlier that Harlow and Alex were able to snatch it so easily, a dozen wolves could have easily lost their lives if it were anywhere else but by great good fortune it happened in San Francisco.

Harlow gave the servant a look and spoke.

"Tell her majesty we have arrived and await her audience." Harlow said as formally as he could muster while taking his hat off. It always did well to show respect in front of Natasha. Though at first it had annoyed him to do so, he now found it easier to act in such away around her, she was quite a powerful presence in any room and he was under no illusions of his own superiority. The truth was he didn't have a problem working for something as long as the cause was strong and Natasha definitely qualified as such. The servant nodded and left the room quickly and wordlessly.

"So whats in the case?" One of the wolves asked.

"Don't know." Alex said simply.

"You don't know? We just lost a good wolf because of it and you don't know whats inside of it?!" The wolf asked indignantly, that's when Harlow turned on him.

"You think I would put you in harm's way to get nothing?!" He snarled, the other wolf was cowed by the sudden nip.

"Well..." He said lamely.

"Then don't insult me by saying you do." Harlow finished and waited on an answer from his message.

Mordoskul wrote:Muahaha, I'm going to kill you all but not before I torture you senseless.

I think that this sums up all of Mordo's posts, its just that he puts it so elegantly its like he isn't giving you the finger, he's giving you the finger after he plated it with gold and jewelry.

I look forward to your evil plans Mordo, mainly because I will hopefully not be their target for once.

BIC:

A series of loud knocks caused Andy to awaken from his sleep, as he opened his eyes he glanced over at his alarm clock which displayed "1:30" in bright green against the black display. He swore to himself as he lifted his head off of his pillow and looked over at his wife, still asleep, before pushing himself up into a sitting position and swinging his legs over the side. He didn't normally answer the door naked so he felt it best to slip on a pair of pajama pants before traipsing out of his room and into the living room's hallway. As he shuffled his feet against the floor he stepped on a round canister and bent over to pick it up and examine it, the red and white decorations on it denoted that it was the frosting can from yesterday. He shrugged and placed it on a night stand before walking out to the living room and answering the door. A blast of air made him regret putting a shirt on and he soon found himself staring at Claudia, the porch light illuminating her face and an odd shape covered in wrapping paper. "What is it Ma'am?" Andy asked as he saw Claudia cock an eyebrow, Andy looked down at his chest and could see faint lines of red on his chest and what looked like lick marks, the mystery of the frosting can was solved, "Its nothing miss, wife and I were just..."

"I'm not interested in your bedroom activities." Claudia quickly said, "I only came here to drop this off." she said while presenting the gift.

"What is it?" Andy asked.

"A present." Claudia answered.

"No thanks." Andy said as he attempted to close the door.

"Its not for you, its for your son." Claudia replied, holding the door open.

"Yeah, its probably a bomb or something so no." Andy said, using a little bit more effort to close the door.

"Its a fething Elmo toy." Claudia replied, "It makes noises."

"So its electronic, which means it could be a bomb." Andy said.

"What's with you and bombs?" Claudia asked.

"I used to make them for a living, so no, you can keep Elmo for yourself." Andy said as he used just enough force to start pushing Claudia away from the door.

"My father made me get it for Michael." Claudia said, desperate to get the present away from her own possession.

"Oh, Claudius made you buy an Elmo for my son." Andy said as he rolled his eyes, "I highly doubt that, now why don't you go before I tell your dad that you're here trying to kill my son with a bomb-laden toy."

"For feth's sake its not a bomb." Claudia said, her strength wasn't enough to stop Andy from closing the door and it seemed as if the werewolf wasn't using any effort, "He made me get it to say sorry for making you work yesterday.". At those final words, all of the force Andy was exerting on the door stopped and it widened.

"Wait, what was that?" Andy asked.

"Its an apology for making you get the slaves on to the field to work yesterday. I over stepped my boundaries when I did so." Claudia replied, "I have no control over the field slaves, they are for you and my father to control."

"Well as long as its an apology present, I don't see why I shouldn't take it." Andy said with a smile, "I thank you kindly and Michael thanks you as well ma'am." Andy finished cheerfully as he took the present from Claudia.

"Go back to sleep Bruss." Claudia said, her anger at Andy's cocky attitude suppressed by her emotionless face, "You have work tomorrow."

"Oh I know, you have a wonderful rest of whatever it is you do at this time." Andy said as he bowed and walked backwards, closing the door as he did. He set the present on the kitchen table before walking back to his bedroom, laying in the warm sheets made him see colder until they began to heat his body.

"Who was that dear?" Wendy asked sleepily.

"Claudia, Claudius made her get Michael a present as a gift." Andy said as he pay next to her.

"I bet you like that don't you?" Wendy asked.

"Yep, like seeing her smugness being stripped from her face..." Andy said before turning towards Wendy, "Did you know that there's frosting on my chest?"

"Yeah," Wendy said, "I got a little bored so I put frosting on you, you woke up for a bit, and then we did something that I'm not incredibly fond of ever doing again."

"Oh really?" Andy said, "Is it because it stained the sheets red?"

"Yeah, that and if it was summer we would probably get ants." Wendy said, "From now on we're just going to stick to no frosting in the bedroom."

"Yeah, she was kind of surprised to see me with red streaks on my body." Andy said as Wendy laid her head on his chest.

"I bet she was," she said with a yawn, "but lets go back to sleep now, its early in the morning."

"Sugar crash?" Andy asked.

"Shut up Andy." Wendy said before falling asleep. Andy smiled as he looked at his sexual deviant of a wife, he remembered how fast it took them to get this acquainted with each other and guessed it about a whole hour before they broke into somebody's office and played a game of naked twister on the floor. Then a month afterwards they were married and had their first child on the way, Andy got a kick out of it. Nobody he could think of married the woman who had relations with them only an hour after meeting them, and then again he didn't know anybody who got married after knowing someone for less than a month and had a kid with them in about as much time. It was like some sort of accelerated love life and it was acceptable because as a hunter, his life expectancy was already pretty low. Now though, he had an eternity he could spend with her and had he thought about his future with her. He liked what he thought about, and then thought about their kids, Michael was the only true human left in their family. Sven and Vegas were both part wolf, Wendy was a wolf, and of course he was a wolf, but Michael wasn't. He started to feel bad for him, two werewolf parents and two siblings that would probably become werewolves themselves one day and here he was all alone. Then it got better, he was a slave for some vampires with a prearranged marriage to another human. Andy thought about it before reaching some positives, he wouldn't need a pet dog, they could play catch all day, and more importantly he wouldn't be afraid of werewolves... or vampires for that matter seeing as though he would see both as a child and grow up surrounded by them. "He would be the perfect hunter." Andy thought to himself before glancing at the alarm clock which now flashed "2:16". Andy decided it would be best to get back to sleep before having to tear out some ghoul's tongue in the morning.

Sophie’s hand were trebling as she took a sip of coffee, she looked at Illuminatus who was sitting right across from her with his arms folded and looking back at her. A Coney Island wasn’t the normal place for mages but when it was the nearest place to the hospital where they dropped Bjorn off they can make exception. Sophie was drinking her coffee very fast; she only had about two seconds between tiny sips. This was something she always did when she was scared, not to mention Illuminatus’s wasn’t helping. It was like she was trapped in a room with an arcane bomb, that can go off whenever it felt like it and the only thing to keep her company was a cup of coffee.

“Bjorn will be fine…”

Sophie jumped when she heard Illuminatus break the silence “I’m sure he is, I’m just trying to put everything together,” She took another sip “Aren’t you at all wondering why I went out of my way to find you?”

“That is the number one thing plaguing my mind, but you seemed to be engulfed in your own thought journey and I believe it would be rude to interfere with any possible revelations you may be having, but do share why I am here?”

Sophie took a big gulp of coffee right when Illuminatus was done speaking “There has been something going on in the Veil as you may have sensed already. Some of the other mages it think it has to do with another realm but I’m not sure. I just know they’re doing something that has to do with that realm I was talking about.”

Illuminatus starts to lean closer to Sophie “You do know that is very dangerous?”

“I do, I am afraid of what could go wrong, you are one of the few arch mages who are off the grid. Bjorn told me about some Hunters that can help.”

Illuminatus sat back in his seat “I am not working with those genocidal, simple minded, gun slinging, reactionary, cun-“

“No, no, no, Bjorn fought with these ones, they don't like the Six Fingered Hand too.”

“Fine, but if they dare have negative attentions I am leaving."

“Good,” Sophie smiled and finished off her drink “Aren’t you going to have anything, you look thin as a stick?”

“No, I am trying to relinquish myself from the bonds of earthly things; there are even a group of monks who go years without eating.”

Sophie suddenly looked shocked “How long haven’t you eaten?”

“I don’t know, maybe one third of a solstice.”

“You’re eating something now!” She started to call over a waiter

“No I don’t need it, now tell the messenger of food to leave!”

“Just eat something waffles, a sandwich, gyro…?”

Illuminatus suddenly stopped “They summon gyros?”

Sophie nodded

“I will have one.”

-around 1720-

king maun sat back in his stone seat,smiling at the guests everywhere, watching them dance and smile and eat. His wife the queen sat next to him on his left,his 2 daughters to his right. Inside,slender smiled more than maun did.

Raising his cup,he yelled “to peace with the northernmen!”

“to peace!” e heard many yell back. He sat back down,smiling. Poor saps,so,so poor. In 2 days,he would be gone,their kings flesh would be found rotted, and war would start, spilling blood in every land. Slender was having so much fun. This mans wife was heavenly delicious in the bed, and the daughters showered him in love. It was good being a king,and not just some random knight or noble. He smirked,which made his wife sallina look over at him.

“something wrong dear?” he looked at her,and smiled wider.

“nope,nothing my dear. Just thought how close to war we got,and how dumb the dispute was.” he scanned the crowed,noting the abundance of drunk knights. He felt her hand on his knee. He liked that.

“and that’s why your king. You stopped it,now we can think of other things. Like an heir.” he felt her smile on him. Silly wench of a mortal, if you knew who was in this skin,you would bow and claim me a god. Standing up,he nodded to her.

“yes,and other things must be though of as well.” as he was about to leave the throne room, the doors at the front burst open,and the 2 guards that had been outside came in. well,only their heads. A slender,lovely woman came in,followed by 2 brutes. Slender bit his lip.

“hello maun,or should I say slender. You cant run from us any longer. Come with us,or face execution.” 4 knights jumped up and were about to charge,but maun called them off.

“i-i don’t know who you are, but if your hear to bow do it more nicely.” several people laughed. Then stopped,as their heads were ripped off by the big brutes,who moved at speeds only a vampire could. Slender knew he had to act fast. Looks like mauns time was up. As he let the skin rot off of him,he heard gasps and screams and fearful cries. Slender stared forward with his empty eyes. How he hated his true form.”very well,here I am. And here’s me not coming back.” he lurched forward,being skinny and long armed gave him an advantage over the brutes. As he ripped off the 1sts head,the stabbed the 2nd with his fingers as he bent backward and under it as it tried to tackle him. Its guts were sucked dry,and it fell away as almost nothing. He straightened himself,and face the vampire woman. “that all? Surly me killing 3 members of the counsel would would get me worse?” he didn’t like he smile. And the next 2nd,he didn’t like the pain in his back as the slammed into him,sending them across the room,and breaking the throne. He saw other vampires coming in,fighting knights who were easily losing.

“you lose, slender von maun! The ghost of the kindrid, the plague of the counsel! I win!” just as he thought his head would come off,the vampire stopped,and looked at her chest. Slender looked at it too,noting the wood sticking through it. As she fell away dead,he fell down the wall, and saw the princess sohia standing above him,wooden stake in hand. She bent down,and looked right into his eyeless eyes. Then,she leaned forward..and..kissed his cheek.

She whispered into his 'ear' “ your a sad thing,arnt you? Remember,its not what we are that makes us a monster,its are actions.” she then stood up and turned around. She looked back at him. “run.” slender was dumb struck he had no idea what she meant. He was a totenmaske. A monster to monsters. How could he not be? As he raced out a window,he was overloaded with thoughts. He slipped,and fell from the castle walls ledge,and hit the ground hard. It rained. He twitched,again and again,thinking hard. What had that been? Why did she help him,why kiss him, tell him he could be something good if he wanted? He thought more,and more. The more he did,the mote he wanted to know. As he stood up,he felt something snap in his mind. He forgot his old self,locked it away, and filled his head with one thought. What was human emotion? Ow and why does it work? He nodded. He would keep learning about humans. Humans names,human thoughts,human life. Everything. He wouldn’t let the old self out,not until he knew what that was he felt...what that was he saw in her eyes when she had saved him...

he ran,ran as he heard them pick up his trail.

>>>

slender let the boys remains slip from his hands into the furnace. His new hobo skin reeked,and this new suit was an awful shade of blue. But they knew his old one,and therefore he could not have kept it. As he gathered up the few things from the warehouse he wanted to keep, sarah walked in.

“hey,who are you? Wait..your charles,arnt you! What happened? Oh,you musta done that skin change thingy! So,were you going,can I come? What do I call you now?” he stopped,and looked at he. Smiling,he nodded.

“yes..yes you can. And call me slender. Slender von maun. It is my name after all.” turning,he flicked a switch,opening the furnace,letting the flames ignite the fluid he had drenched the warehouse in. as he grabbed sarah and rushed out,he laughed as the warehouse burned behind him.

... Eric Cole's eyes flickered open at the sound of his phone buzzing, he'd only managed to get perhaps two hours of sleep in the past two days...and now, here...when he'd finally dozed off...the damned phone was ringing...
He pawed out, grasping clumsily in the dim light of his small room, knocking the insistantly buzzing phone to the floor..
" Damn it" Cole muttered leaning from his bed and snatching the annoying piece of techno crap up, answering in a gravely and surly voice..." Cole...what do you want?!"
" Eric" The soft voice on the other line said " Sasha Reynolds here.." Cole rolled his eyes, Agent Reynolds was the only person in this god forsaken complex with enough Network credintial to call him by his first name...and frankly it boiled his piss just a bit...if she wasn't such a damn knockout he'd probably complain about it, as it was...she was constantly calling him at all hours..wishing to discuss various aspects of Project 66.
" What is it Sasha.." Cole sang back, in mock pleasentry..." What can I do for you at...3:23 in the morning?"
The woman laughed " Sorry Eric...I know it's late...but."
God damnit thought Cole, with this woman there was always a " but" or " just one thing"..." But what Sasha?" Cole said...still maintaining his false cheer.
" I just got a message fro T.R...orders are to contact a selection of known ..mages...and request their assistance here" Sasha said..
" I assume by ..request..we really mean order them to come." Cole said with a smirk..
The woman laughed lightly..." Eric...they are sacnctioned by the Network after all...they assist us...and we keep Kraub and his ..people away from them."
" Wonderful...magic hostages at our beck and call" Cole sighed..." I'll send out the mesages tomorrow.."
" I already have" The woman said..." sent them out as soon as I heard from T.R."
Cole shook his head " Then...why'd you bother to call to tell me?" he asked...
" Profesional courtesy" Sasha said and hung up...
Cole stared at the phone for a moment..." Ohh..If you were a man" he thought " Just for five minutes.." still grumbling he laid his head back down and tried to sleep.

... Natasha stood and crossed the room to her wardrobe, she'd received word of Harlow's return and would be conveying a meeting of her generals shortly, at least most of them...
She frowned as she glanced over several wracks of clothing, how she loathed to emulate the humans and their foolish habit of covering themselves..." Creatures taught to be ashamed of themselves and masking it as proper behavior" she scoffed as she slipped into revealing mini dress and high boots, she glanced into a decorative full leagth mirror and sighed..." Disgusting custom...so...Human" she spat.
" You look wonderful my Mistress" Mia said from the canopy bed
" Beautiful beyond words Mistress" Mya echoed.
Natasha fixed the twins with a cold gaze and nodded, they served their purpose..true...but she felt little more than a pyshical draw to them...they would never be what Keri was to her..
The wolf Queen turned and started for the door..
" Shall we accompany you Mistress" the twins echoed one another..
" No.." Natasha said without looking back..." Your presence is not required.." she finished exiting the chambers.
Entering the hallway, she was joined by her personal Guards...and together they made their way through the passageways and into the formal meeting hall..
" Ah..Harlow" Natasha said as she and the Black Claw entered the chambers " I'm pleased to see you've returned well and unharmed."

... Andy grunted as the ringing of his phone pulled him from slumber.." What the hell..?" he muttered snatching up the receiver...remembering to use his hand this time so as not to knock the phone over..
" Hello..who is this?" Andy snorted, he'd been snorting a lot since becoming a wolf...it annoyed Wendy...but he just couldn't help it..
" Is this Andy Bruss?" a cheerful voice asked..
" Umm..yeah...it is" replied Andy..trying not to snort again..." Who is this?"..again with the snort..
" Andy...this is Stevie Wonder" the cheerful voice answered cheerfully .." I know sometimes things can look gloomy..and life can be unfair but..ya know...looking back on when I was a nappyheaded boy...then my only worry was what for christmas would be my toy...but...one Christmas a bunch of werewolves ate my mom and dad while they were out caroling...so always remember things can always get worse."
" That's actually depressed me a bit Stevie..." Andy said...to sad to snort " Did you just call to depress me?"
" Of course not ANdy" Stevie said " What sort of song title would that be...hell you couldn't even hum that..no...I just called to say I love you ANdy...and I know about what you and your wife did with the frosting.."
" Um..well..thanks for calling Stevie" said ANdy..." Ima hang up now."
" You take care now ANdy" Stevie said cheerfuly causing Andy to snort again..." and I'll see ya a round"
" ..But" Andy said, feeling to awkward to snort.
" Figure of speech andy" Stevie laughed " Figure of speech"
" Don't call me anymore Stevie" Andy said Hanging up the phone.

BIC:………..Light in the Darkness: part five……………

A man sat before Vegas, his fingers clenching a burning cigarette. He stroked his beard as he inhaled the dangerous fumes. The man looked familiar, his name was colt. Vegas had no idea how she knew that, but it seemed fitting. “Always be prepared to run.” Colt said. “Our job isn’t the safest one, we don’t receive hazard pay. We have no friends, our only contact are the things we kill.” “Then why do we do it?” Vegas heared herself say. “Because we have no other choice.” Colt replied “Now, always have at least two unused passports and three different currency’s because…”

Vegas slapped herself, she needed to stay focused. Daydreaming wouldn’t help their cause. And why did she dream about person she didn’t knew, she blocked it out as she continued running. Before her ran Muse, her faithful scythe clenched in her hand. She knew this region like the back of her hand, leading them through paths only known to locals. She was the first to join Vegas merry band of human waste. She never said much, preferring to keep to herself. Muse wasn’t even her name, no one knew what it was. But one night, she saved Michael from death. He thanked her and called her his muse. And eventually that was what everyone started calling her. She didn’t seem to mind, in fact she appeared to like it. Vegas looked over her shoulder, where the rest of the crew tried to keep up. James and Michael carrying the wounded matt. Moving him wasn’t good, but they had no choice. Someone was behind them and Vegas knew who it was. Mattheus. A Vampire send to hunt her down, and it seemed that after three months he would succeed. He would kill the mysterious human called Vegas. A legend started by Muse herself.

They waited in the dark at the outskirts of Rek’shilva. It was a cold cycle, their breath made tiny clouds. Two Vampires stood before Muse and Sky. They were agents sent by an Old blood wishing to remain anonymous. He had some problems with a member of his own clan, a problem he would liked to see resolved. Sky gladly accepted the contract, it payed her in corpus. Humans. The currency of Vampiric society. People she could save. But the two men seemed hesitant to give Vegas the contract. “Our master, just wants certainty that the contract would be accomplished.” Vegas wanted to reassure them that she was more then capable. But Muse spoke first, it was the most she had ever said. “We represent Vegas.” She said in her delicate voice. “The wasteland ghost, she stalks the midnight wastes in search of prey. …” she spun a magnificent web off lies, created solely to frighten the wanderers of the night. “Just get it done.” The agents said as they disappeared in the night. The compound of the Vampires opponent fell that week in a blazing inferno. Muse used her scythe to carve the name of Vegas in the wall. And soon everywhere Sky went, the stories of Vegas began to be told. Each story more creative than the other. A legend was born, and Sky took over the name of Vegas.

Muse stopped. “Rest.” She simply stated. Vegas crew all fell down heavily breathing, sweat dripping out of every pore. All But Muse who simply leaned against her rusted scythe. She would have made an excellent runner. Matt growled as James pulled the bloody rag of his wound. It was still bleeding, and every passing minute death arched closer. “I’m sorry.” Matt muttered as James tore his shirt up, making a new bandages. “What’s the plan?” Michael asked between his giant breaths. “We go to Rek’shilva.” Vegas replied. It was the most logical choice she could make. “So running away from one Vampire to run towards a city of Vampires?” Michael sneered. “Fantastic, just fething great.” “Shut up.” One of the man said. “Vegas has a plan,…You do have a plan?” he asked with pleading eyes. “We go to Monk, and hide there. Until we figure out what our next step is.” “I don’t trust Monk, he’s probably the reason why we are in this situation.” Michael said, taking a big gulp from his water canteen. “Well … Then we’ll have something to talk to him about….Muse let’s get moving.” The crew grunted as they crawled back on their tired legs. Following Muse who kept running at an unforgiving pace. The Howls of Bloodhounds following close behind.

Nice posts Fitzz...

Shas'ui T'au Kais wrote:Nice posts Fitzz...

ditto on the congrats!

waking up in the crypt flourence looks around. not much to do tonight but feed. pushing the slab aside he goes out to find some prey.

stalking the outskirts of vegas he finds... nobody. for a city that never sleeps it is awfully quiet. so he journeys closer in, farther in.

as he goes into a back ally he stumbles across a man in a suit aparently buying drugs and some sort of thug. the man in the suit freezes the thug pulls a gun.
grinning flourence leaps forward and gets shot in the shoulder, luckly the bullet passes cleanly through his shoulder. landing on top of the gangster he rips his head off and begins his feast. all the while the man in the suit recovers his sences and runs away, as he does pulling out a cell phone. "Police! Police! I just wittnessed a murder and the killer is eating the man HELP!!!"

bored he pick up the gun the gangester shot, points it at the running man and unloads the clip. Of the 6 shots 5 of thim hit the walls of the alley but one of them manages to hit the man in the side. bleeding he continues shuffling along, now almost to the end of the alley way. Flourence charge forward leaping towards the man and landing on the mans back and rip his head off and feast.

"oh that is good" he thinks to himself "two kills in one night, oh that is good"

only after he is done does he realize that he just killed some one, and there are a gakload of people that jsut say him eat the guy. A man at the corner pulling out a gun. A cop in an old worn out blue shirt holding a cup of coffee unaware that he just spilled it on himself staring out the window of his care in a daze. A pair of hookers on the other end of the street looking mighty tasty

"gak" he says

turning around he runs back into the alley and keeps running. doubling back a few times and takeing some routes that humans would find very difficult he manages to get back to the graveyard. by the time he gets there the bullet wound has healed.

jumping the fence and running up to the crypt, moving the slab, he ducks inside and closes the slab behind him.

"gak" he says "I might as well have killed a man in plain sight here in vegas... oh wait i just did... well not much i can do now"

tired from running on a full stomach he leans against the door and falls asleep.

IC:

Jimmy was walking down a dank alleyway in search of the Peckham district. He was sure that this vampire would be the one that could give him answers, answers for his curse. Jimmy vaulted a railing into a small park, barely consisting of half a dozen dying trees. It looked like the sort of place that one would expect to get mugged on a dark night, which it was. Almost instantly after thinking this, his vampire enhanced hearing picked out the sound of what heard like seven people, probably young men attempting to creep up on him. He almost couldn't contain himself with laughter, these fools thought they could beat him? He had heard of the infamous British lower class before and knew they were dim witted but this was ridiculous, his aura of fear should have been enough to scare them off but these people were clearly half-brain dead. He turned around to face the shadows in which they hid and spoke,

"Come out come out wherever you are! There's no point in hiding, I can see you!" he could sense their fear growing now as his shroud of impenatrable evil began to blanket them. The group stepped out of the shadows and apprehensively each pulled out a pocket knife. Jimmy almost laughed at the sight; he guessed he didn’t have any choice. The one who seemed to be in charge stood up to him and said apprehensively,

“Give us yer money ninja-puff,” his knife hand shook violently although he was not sure why this was, this was just a boy right? Not even particularly hench at that. Jimmy looked the man dead in the eyes, his unusually emerald-green iris staring deep into the mans soul and said,

“Put it down, or someones gonna get hurt.” The man laughed awkwardly for a couple of seconds, looking to his gang for support. There was none. Jimmy stared deeper into the mans eyes and then the final straw hit the gangster causing him to drop his knife in fear. His eyes turned demonic red. The terrified man stumbled backwards and tripped over a tree stump. It was all over in seconds

**********************************************************************************

Jimmy stood up after his blood meal from the gang. He grimaced from the taste, horribly spiked with the flavour of cigarettes and shattered dreams. Still, a vampires gotta do what a vampires gotta do right? Jimmy morphed into gas and flew off into the night sky, he was going to find his embracer, no matter what the cost. He had only gone around 300m when he spotted something, no, someone, talking outside a house. He couldn’t believe his currently gaseous eyes, it was the werewolf, the one that should be dead with… No, it couldn’t be! Could it? He saw the two outside this house and he sensed he’d seen both before. It was him, Altas and the one he believed to be his embracer, the legendary vampire, Valentin Rusmanov. He was looking at the one who had ruined his existence.
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Damn this could get awkward.....

@ Catos and Kais....looks like your characters are coming together....you to need to make some decisions about how they will react to one another...and if a player event will be needed.

... Chief Administrator Aron Kraub strolled purposefully through the torch lit passageways of the subterianian stronghold which the American branch of his Order had established.
His dark long coat fluttering behind him, Kraub entered his private sanctuary , kneeling before a large marble altar and silently offering a prayer to the most high Lord...
He had experianced yet another vision...another prophitic revelation from the almighty...and he would obey the word of his god .
The beast were gathering...in several cities of this godless and immoral country...and he had been charged to purge ...to purify...to remove their unholy presence in the eye of god.
...He would obey...he would purge...he would purify...as the Earthly hand of the almighty...he swore it..
Rising from his knees, the man stepped from the dim chapel and strode briskly into the Orders meeting hall.
There, gathered around a large table of polished wood, sat a dozen Exalted Brothers of The Six Fingered Hand, each stared at Kraub intently as he entered...each eager to hear what he had to say..
" Brothers" Kraub began " I have been shown what is expected of each of us...the Lord himself has guided us here...and continues to bestow his orders open me...the divine hand guides us...and we shall not falter"
The assembled Brothers spoke as one " We shall follow the will of our Lord...we shall obey"
" My Brothers" Kraub continued " The Lord has shown me that the beast assemble...it is our sacred duty to cut them down...to purge and purify in the Lords name"
" We shall purge...we shall purify" Came the answer from the gathered Brothers " We shall strike in the name of the most high"
" Draw near my Brothers" Kraub said " I shall lay out our plans...God plans for each of you"....

Part Three... On the Town.


...one month later....

The fog horn blasted into the cold night air, the sound bombarding across the Hudson with a low fever pitch that caused dogs to bark in backyards across the way in Jersey. Within the depths of the thick grey soup, a large transport ship, carrying containers from Italy pulled up slowly towards the Howland Hook Marine Terminal on Staten Island. The Captain on the bridge arguing with the dock administrator on when he could offload his cargo. As the crew prepped for docking, none of them noticed the shadows moving from below decks. Apart from a couple of incidents of tiredness the crew had largely missed the presence of Kindred on their boat, and no one noticed as one by one six figures leapt into the river, heading for the distant Manhattan.


...


Terry Walters had worked at the City Pier A site for most of his adult life, he was one of a number who kept an eye on the older historical building of the city at night, and was close buddies to several of the former Fire Department Marine Division members that had called it home.

"Just me and a flashlight." He muttered as he walked along the pier, glancing out towards the Statue of Liberty in the distance, he smiled at her as always, the one light in the darkness. A blub of water echoed in the air, and he glanced over towards the rippling water against the pier piles below him. His eyes strained as he looked at the water, for a moment, for a second he thought he saw a beautiful red haired woman gliding through the murk like a dolphin, then she was gone.

He blinked, and rubbed his eyes.

"Could have sworn." His grumbled against the soft breeze and continued walking along the pier. As his heavy boots clumped along the wooden deck, he stopped suddenly at the sight of wet puddles of water moving over towards the side of the bell tower.

"What in blazes."

Walking around he stopped dead in shock at the sight of the towering figure, a twisted being of flesh and bone as it shifted before his eyes, limbs stretching out, flesh spinning from one area of body to the next. He watched frozen in terror as it mutated, morphed and reformed into a pale skinned man, wearing a pair of sunglasses holding a cigarette in his mouth, he smiled as he ignited a match in his hand and cupped it over his mouth. Letting his hands fall he took a puff of the cigarette and blew smoke towards the mans face.

"New York, New York, a Wonderful town." Nero said with a grin.

Terry Walters screamed in terror as something grabbed him from behind. An old lady in her apartment across the bay in Jersey in the equality residential building spotted a flash light flaying around as she was making herself a soda, obviously kids messing around she thought bitterly and went back to her book unconcerned as the light in the distance vanished.


...


Scarlett walked out onto Battery Place and glanced between the cars scooting along the road, and the park to her right. She glanced back as Nero, Olivia, Lilith, V'ral and Gerstard walked up behind her. Gerstard seemed quite calm for a man who had never left his home country of Slavakia before, another member of the Black Rook, who Nero 'recruited' on the way to Genoa, before their long journey back to the States. She glanced to Olivia and managed to share a slight smile, before her eyes lingered on the still scornful Lilith.

"Anything you'd like to say Lilly?"

Lilith's eyes darkened. They had used 'Victoria' for several days before Nero had accidently granted her with a nickname that Scarlett was unable to resist using.

The nearly two month journey from the former hidden Black Rook base, had granted a great insight to the blood of Vicissitude to Scarlett and the others. The voice in the head grew weaker in time, only there to direct and aid when stress struck them, it could punish them though, and so a uneasy alliance now existed between Scarlett and Lilith. The baggage from their lives still existing, taunting the two of them constantly, but a feeling a goodwill to each other emanated from the blood. When hostility reared its head on two occasions since their journey began, both of them where left huddling on the floor grasping onto their own stomachs as crippling pain struck them until they stopped.

It seemed snide remarks however did not cause much of a reaction, something both of them had learned eagerly.

"It seems a waste of my breath toward a English whore.. I mean rose like yourself, dearest Scarlett."

Nero stood behind them grinning as always, Scarlett glanced at him, it was starting to feel she had teamed up with the Cheshire Cat, but it was way too late to worry over such things, even if this had been his plan from day one, Scarlett had to admit, she wasn't sure she'd change anything.


A guttural cry echoed from behind them, and the Kindred turned to watch as the dock guard staggered out from the Pier. His flesh burst in places as spikes and tendrils flayed towards the night, he didn't acknowledge them, he didn't react to the cars, he just charged into the park sniffing the air like a hunting dog, looking for meat.

"Thats new." She said softly watching as the guard found a target and chased after a middle aged woman jogger, who ran off screaming in horror away from him.

"The blood can feel the heart is close, the bond grows, so those we drink from will return to infect others." Nero said, still grinning.

Scarlett watched mesmerized as the man lunged and grasped hold of the ankles of the jogger with tendrils, her screams echoing into the sky as he dragged her close and spines stabbed down into her body scattering blood across the ground. For barely a moment, a single doubt crossed her mind, before the blood filled her with a warmth and belief in her choices, she turned from the carnage in the park and looked towards the city that lay before them.

"I can feel it, he's close, we need to go north." Scarlett said as she began to cross the street, the others following without a word.

As they headed north, Terry Walters roared to the sky, blood foaming in his mouth, as he began charging a couple of young men with skateboards who yelled out in shock and tried to run, behind him the jogger was starting to lift herself up, her blood dripping into pools of ichor, as her limbs stretched out and her fingers melded into what looked like bone blades. He blue eyes sparkled in the night, tears rolling down either cheeks as a dark red seeped into them and with a flash of crimson she was lost forever.

It had begun.

Harlow had dismissed the pack except for Alex to finish up behind the, taking care of the bodies and such. It was then that Natasha entered the room to see them both standing at the head of a long table with many chairs on either side. As she crossed over to greet them, Harlow could smell a faint whisp of displeasure on Alex. If the queen got this scent as well she didn't show it but it had become a normal reaction when Alex was in the presence of the queen. All that was important was that he not show what he felt.

"Yes, Milady, though I must admit, one of the pack was killed in the fight, he died well and slew his killer." Harlow said evenly as Natasha took her seat at the opposite head of the table. She took on a solemn composure.

"That is regrettable, but these things are necessary for our fight. I am sure he will be remembered." She said.

As the greetings were winding down, two others entered the room, Harlow recognized them both, the blonde man was Jarin, Harlow's direct superior her and the other experienced fighter was Davin who led the queen's own guard. Both had grim expressions as they entered the room, they probably already knew why they were here and that was the reason for the completely serious atmosphere. Guards were set at the doors to the room and the doors were sealed behind them. The highest echelons of Lycan command around the world were meeting...well...all except one.

Harlow hadn't seen a whole lot of Ryan during his employment to the Lycan queen and at best had something resembling a working relationship with him but the big wolf was out on assignment somewhere so he would not be here for the meeting. As the occupants of the room took their seats, Harlow came forwards and addressed them.

"Last night I and a team were successful in capturing this..." Harlow said indicating the metal briefcase that Alex brought forwards and placed on the table, the handcuff was still attached but the hand was thankfully missing from it. "Its something I and Alex have been tracking for the past year, or trying to anyway, it disappeared and reappeared several times in places all over the earth for the past few moths until it was finally brought to San Francisco. Fortunately, it seems the Kindred let their guard down because there wasn't a whole lot of protection for it when it was swapped."

"And the importance of this case is?" Davin asked, looking at the case.

"We still don't know what's inside but we are fairly certain that it pertains to the Crooked house and the realm it inhabits." Harlow stated, everyone was all ears now, there was precious little information on the Kindred's realm, some weren't even sure it existed.

"You don't know what's inside? You meant toe tell me the Vampirii have had this for a year and haven't opened it?" Jarin asked.

"Not to my knowledge no. We now know that whatever is inside was sealed into this case by human mages using their powers. When I met Alex, he approached me to help him open it, but it was captured by kindred agents before we could even so much as look at it."

"And how did Alex get it into his possession?" Natasha asked seeming very interested.

"I had a contract with a network informant, all he told me was that there was something important inside and told me not to try and look. Before I had a chance to hand it off I was attacked by the Kindred and when I did finally try to hand it off the Network had their agents try to kill me. That was when I sought Syd for his help." Alex came forward and said. "I've been able to track down messages that suggest this case is wanted desperately by the Network's "Project 66."

"Those humans who are trying to get into the kindred's realm?" Davin asked, Alex just nodded.

"Now that we have it in our possession again, the Network and Vampirii will be hot on its trail. I suggest we put our other sects and the guards here on alert just in case." There was a general nodding as Harlow said that.

"Do we have any idea how to open it?" Jarin asked.

"I honestly don't have a clue, the case is made of a special metal that's near indestructible, the only way to safely get out what's inside is by unlocking it and its been sealed with the power of the mages, the major reason I brought it here was because I wanted to know if any of you had any experience with such things." Harlow said looking around the room

"I think I may have a solution, Harlow. Leave the case with me and I will see if I cannot have it opened." Natasha said with a slight smile. Harlow simply nodded. "Speaking of which what is the status of my decree?" She asked, seeming bored at this point now that the topic had changed.

"It is being worked on as we speak, milady, soon all lycans will know their options." Harlow said with another nod. At this point Natasha stood up.

"Very well, you are all dismissed to your duties." She said and the group split up again.

----------------------

Harlow walked down the long halls of the compound with Alex after the meeting, Harlow admitted it was short but then again it didn't need to be any longer. He was concerned about Alex though, the man didn't seem to be any less miffed than he was when he was at the meeting. Over the past year Harlow had become something resembling a mentor to Alex, it was a role he couldn't see himself taking for anyone more than a year ago, but then again he hadn't had any family a year ago...

"Whats the matter with you?" Harlow asked , breaking the silence between them suddenly. Alex hesitated for a moment before briefly looking over his shoulder as if he expected someone to be eavesdropping or following them. He spoke lowly.

"Does she always have to do that?" He asked.

"Specifics...who and what?" Harlow said although he already had a good idea that he knew.

"Her majesty, I can't tell if she's just trying to tease everyone around here or she enjoys looking like a slut." Alex said again lowly. Harlow stopped mid stride and Alex stopped with him.

"Firstly I don't think I have to tell you not to say things like this where anyone else can hear you if you value your heart." Harlow said sternly. "And secondly she's a pureblood, what did you expect?"

"Hey, you're the one that asked, I'd be happy to keep it to myself. What's that got to do with anything though?" Alex asked. Harlow sighed a bit.

"Wolves are creatures of passion, Alex, ever hear the phrase "lover not a fighter?" Harlow asked. Alex raised an eyebrow curiously but nodded his head. He was sure he'd heard this speech from Harlow before but it didn't seem to matter, he was still internally off put.

"Well, to put it bluntly, lycans are both, its just how nature works, you've been a wolf for most of your life, hell, you were practically born with it, you oughta know." Harlow said crossing his arms. Alex scoffed.

"You're one to talk."

Harlow would have been angered by that statement if it was not true. Truth be told, he saw a lot of his former self in Alex, the man was still scared of what he was, still trying to hold on to what he knew which was humanity because that was all that he was comfortable with. It sounded strange, but to Harlow's knowledge it was a pretty common occurrence that wolves rejected their blessings as curses. that was something Harlow learned just a year ago, the life of a lycan could be short and brutal, even though they were blessed with immortality they could still die from the violence of their world, Harlow had rejected his humanity long since but he knew that Alex still tried to hold onto it even though it was not there and that was why he was struggling.

"Yes...I am, unlike you, I've gotten used to it and accepted it for what it is. The queen is a pureblood, which means she's never known what it is to be human." Harlow leaned closer to Alex and spoke lowly at this point. "That little voice in the back of your skull that begs to be let out, that one that devours your mind each and every full moon, that's how she thinks all the time, the sooner you do, the sooner you can start enjoying yourself instead of moping." With that, Harlow left Alex standing in thought in the hall, headed back to his own personal chamber to think on what was ahead of him...

FITZZ wrote:... Andy grunted as the ringing of his phone pulled him from slumber.." What the hell..?" he muttered snatching up the receiver...remembering to use his hand this time so as not to knock the phone over..
" Hello..who is this?" Andy snorted, he'd been snorting a lot since becoming a wolf...it annoyed Wendy...but he just couldn't help it..
" Is this Andy Bruss?" a cheerful voice asked..
" Umm..yeah...it is" replied Andy..trying not to snort again..." Who is this?"..again with the snort..
" Andy...this is Stevie Wonder" the cheerful voice answered cheerfully .." I know sometimes things can look gloomy..and life can be unfair but..ya know...looking back on when I was a nappyheaded boy...then my only worry was what for christmas would be my toy...but...one Christmas a bunch of werewolves ate my mom and dad while they were out caroling...so always remember things can always get worse."
" That's actually depressed me a bit Stevie..." Andy said...to sad to snort " Did you just call to depress me?"
" Of course not ANdy" Stevie said " What sort of song title would that be...hell you couldn't even hum that..no...I just called to say I love you ANdy...and I know about what you and your wife did with the frosting.."
" Um..well..thanks for calling Stevie" said ANdy..." Ima hang up now."
" You take care now ANdy" Stevie said cheerfuly causing Andy to snort again..." and I'll see ya a round"
" ..But" Andy said, feeling to awkward to snort.
" Figure of speech andy" Stevie laughed " Figure of speech"
" Don't call me anymore Stevie" Andy said Hanging up the phone.

IC:

Atlas’ head twitched up as soon as he caught the scent of Jimmy. Instinctively he jumped up and extended his claws, getting himself into a defensive stance, ready for battle.

“Valentin,” Atlas said loudly, but coolly. “Please don’t tell me you brought a Vampire goon along with you.”

“Not as far as I’m aware, but people could be attracted to me, I do have that effect,” he sniggered in response, reaching out with his hands, chaotic power puling through them, forming his signature weapon, the Ripper.

A figure approached them from the park nearby, and Atlas could just make out the form of a young man of about 20, who looked like a sort of Goth, clad in black leather. His body was mostly in shadows, but glinting in the moonlight where the sights of his razor sharp fangs, and the face blaring with anger, but as cool as ice at the same time.

“Then, let us begin,” Valentin muttered, instantly phasing out of reality, and reappearing about a half a meter in front of the figure, who had seen this and instantly readied his claws, and baring his fangs, waiting to strike.

Valentin raised the Ripper, dark magic’s swirling around the blade, and readying it to strike.

“You made a mistake showing yourself here!”

________________________________________

Just a short one, but I couldn't think of anything else...

... don't worry, its okay with Catos...

This could get interesting...
...cant wait to battle Valentin...
...and you too Atlas...

2 Weeks Ago...


Welcome to the Jungle... Part the First

Las Vegas. The city of sin. It was disgusting, drug ridden, and a general horrible place to live. To stay, it was perfect. The trio were staying in the Presidential Suite of the Wynn Hotel. Musater had paid for it in full, and seeing as how Natasha hasn't figured out credit card tracking, felt relatively safe booking using his Amex. The woman swiped the card, and her eyes lit up.

"Of course, Senator, please follow me." She husled out of her booth, with Longar and Fenrir looking at him, very confusingly. He smiled, adjusted his tie, and fixed his newly placed on Flag Pin. They entered the room, looking at the staff in the room. The chef, the roomkeeper, and the masseuse were all lined up, waiting for their entry.

"Mr. Cho, we are honored that you are staying here at the Wynn hotel. These are the staff members that will be helping you with anything you need." The check-in woman smiled, and hit the chef lightly.

"If there anything the Mister is allergic to?" He spoke with a slight Greek accent. Fenrir always loved Gyro day in the asylum.

"No, not really. I do have a question. The bar downstairs, the "Rabbit Hole". Can you get the waitress Alice up here?" Musater gave a tiny wink. The check-in woman looked a bit shocked, but happily obliged. The staff introduced themselves, and then left, looking for Alice.

"The feth? Senator? Musater, what the hell are you doing?" Longar threw the bag on the ground. Filled to the brim with their weapons, it was a miracle that they cleared customs.

"Well, Ex-Senator. I was Mr. Cho for 2 terms in the Las Vegas Senate. Quite fun, really." He took his shoes off, threw his jacket on the ground, and went straight for the kitchen. His specific instructions were met very well. The fridge was full of raw steaks, malt beer, and boxes of Snickers bars. Tossing a Malt to Longar, and a box of the chocolate bars to Fenrir, he grabbed himself a steak. Skipping the cooking process, Musater ripped off the saran wrap and began to bite off chunks. It had been weeks since his last animal meal, and he had gotten to liking them. It was a nice change of pace from human for breakfast, lunch and dinner, with a nice human snack between them.

The meal was short lived, however, as there was a knock on the door. The intercom squelched, "Mr. Cho, Alice is here to see you." Musater wiped the blood from his face, picked up his jacket, and opened the door.

"Good morning Mr. Cho. You wanted to... Uh... See me?" She was wearing her waitress uniform. Skimpy miniskirt, tight fitting shirt. Longar didn't seem interested, but Fenrir stood up.

"Do you know how to make a White Rabbit?" She smiled as she walked over, her combat boots making thud noises as she walked.

"I... Err... Sure?" She gave a shrug. "I can sure learn how."

"Good! I'll teach you!" Fenrir beckoned for her to come to the bedroom. "The booze is in here. Can you help me with it?"

Alice obliged, walking after the woman. Musater closed and locked the door. The sound of the body hitting the floor alarmed Musater. He opened the door, to see the chloroform rag in Fenrir's hands.

"Shush now. I have to make a White Rabbit." She slammed the door. Musater walked back to the bench, and took a nap.

The sound of a scream alerted Musater to wake the feth up. Longar dropped his Malt onto the pile of the other empties.

"She's been at it for hours. That's the seventh scream." He picked at his teeth with his sword. "It's annoying."

"Well, we could see what this "White Rabbit" actually is." Musater sat up from the couch. They opened the door to see what Fenrir was doing. Longar's jaw hit the floor, and Musater threw up a bit.

The entrails of the woman were layed out on the floor in the shape of a pentagram, blood slicking the floor. The audible moans of the still surviving woman were cut short when Fenrir sliced her head off and placed it in the pentagram. She proceeded to cut off the hands, and began to walk to the unholy circle. She heard the gasps of the two men. Looking down, she remembered that part of the ritual was using the fingers and toes of the sacrifice as underwear.

"You two want to get out?" She covered her bare breasts with the arm that was holding the severed hands.

They happily slammed the door. She continued with her gruesome work in silence, now that the bitch had stopped screaming.

Fitfully tossing and turning, with sweat on his brow and clenching his teeth, Florence yells “DAM YOU IVAN DAM YOU”

-----------------------------------------------------
“You may enter” says a dark and raspy voice.

“Yes master” Florence says as he enters the room.

Upon entering Florence marvels at the throne room of Ivan the Terrible. With a sealing that must have been 3 stories high and tapestries of the finest make depicting Ivan’s triumphs there is all that a man could want. Servants that silently wait at the beck and call of their master, carrying the finest food on golden trays. Beautiful women, from all over the world, laying themselves at his feet wishing simply for a brief moment for their masters time. The finest furs and cloths made of exotic silks money could buy. To say it simply Ivan had it all.

“You sent for me” Florence stated as he bowed to his master, who was currently eating a chicken. Looking up from his meal Ivan seemed to notice Florence for the first time and his brow formed into a crushing portrait of fury.

“WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN YOU INSUFERABLE CURR? I CALLED FOR YOU AGES AGO” Ivan yells, spraying Florence with chicken from his meal.

Knowing better than to reply Florence sits silently waiting for his master’s order.

“Now what did I call you in for…oh right” Ivan says in a very calm voice “EVERYONE OUT NOW” everyone scrambles to get out of the room as fast as possible know if they don’t death will follow.

Have you noticed my teeth Florence? Ivan asks

Truly looking Florence finally notices that they are much longer than human teeth and they are long and pointed.

“They look nice” Florence says

Ignoring him Ivan continues “I have gained the true power over life or death I have gained greatness and now I offer it to you. Join me in eternal life as on of the kindred and escape your mortal chains to enjoy the fruits of our labor till the end of time” Ivan says making grand motions with his hands and steadily walking closer.

“I would be honored” Florence replies

-------------------------------------------------------
Waking with a single tear in his eye and sweat on his brow Florence realizes it is still day.
“What was all that?” he asks out loud as he whips away a few more tears.

Dazed confused and sad for some reason Florence goes back to a fitful sleep haunted by the unknown green eyes.

Nine and a half months ago - the Den, California

Harlow stood, mildly bored, as Anya sat on a chair next to him in the back room of what now was the armoury of the Den, quietly writing into yet another book. He could have sworn this was a new one but he wasn't really concerned about the little she-wolf; she kept her distance from everyone most of the time and it was only when Erzuli wanted something that he'd ever even seen her speak. At least the girl had some sense of pride in herself since he'd first seen her at the mansion she had gone from looking like a street kid to a reasonably attractive... secretary type... was the best way he could describe it.

Looking round he could see plenty of unopened boxes, labeled for only Erzuli's attention. the few that were empty lay either side of the last, vault-like door in the room. These, he guessed, held the weird 'artifacts' the female Pure Blood had been obsessing about all this time. What exactly any of them did he couldn't even begin to guess but Erzuli sure had been pleased when he'd brought her the pair of binoculars. The pathetic wolf in Utah who'd he had taken them from was so crazy and possesive, it had been a pleasure to rid the world of him. That and killing Greg had irritated him. Whatever had happened that day still bugged Harlow: one moment they were being shot at by a paranoid old wolf on a disused airstrip; then Greg, who'd been a good tracker by any standards and someone he'd had hope for with the training, had grasped his face and vanished in a cry of surprize and agony that the rest of them had barely time to react to. The cackling laughter from the old wolf had led Harlow to his hiding place behind a barrel and there the crazy man had been, clutching the binoculars, an empty pistol laying on the floor beside him.

"Pure abject misery in just one object!"

Erzuli slamming open the door and the frankly disturbing delight in her voice pushed Harlow from his thoughts. He looked to her with a half-frown.

"Useful?"

"Oh those are going to be very much so." Grinned the Pure Blood. "I really have to thank you for bringing them to me, despite your... loss. Others might have destroyed them."

He shrugged. "Greg knew what the risks were."

"Greg?" She looked almost thoughtful for a moment."A shame that. But I have something for you. A reward, thankyou, whatever... just don't touch them. Not unless through their bag anyhow. I think this arrangement of ours will lead to great things if this is how you begin!"

She handed him a small, red velvet bag; which he took and opened. His nose wrinkled at the smell from within.

"They stink of..." he grimaced.

"Yes... almonds, I know..."

Harlow looked at the dice in disbelief as she explained what his reward entailed.

Alone. For the first time in his 'life', Gregor was truly alone. His father had been murdered by a band of slavers, who had intended to clap Gregor's whip-thin wrists in irons and carry him off to the Black City to toil in the mines for eternity. They had come skulking down to his father's workshop just beyond the city gates, a pale trio with blades of iron and brands of flame, burning down the house of wood and cutting father deeply in the side. The made-man rushed to his defense, tearing limb from trunk in gory spray, and heaving thatched furniture at the intruders, wishing only to be left alone with his da. His father screamed, greatly he protested at the disturbance of their peace, hating the shattering of his joy at the hands of these unclean brigands. The son shielded his maker with his own body, standing quite still as blade and bullet ate his flesh with metal teeth and fiery gizzard. Skin did part, and stitches fray at the dread onslaught of the attackers, but the resolve of the son made harm to the father impossible. Of the brigands, one did recklessly stray too near the spindly Gregor, whom by the torso did he grab, and sever him from his avarice by force of arm, scattering the pieces 'cross the floor in a most gruesome display. Hesitate, did they, the marauders double, for they feared the strength of the wight before them. With a moan of horrible fright and fear, lurching forward did Gregor near the wicked troupe, his thin fingers peeling flesh from skull and meat from bone. Twitch did he, the robber thing, then moved no more and was still. Terror swelled loudly from lungs of the final intruder, given voice upon the tongue, his madness was made vocal. Clapping fingers white as bone 'bout the pate of the brigand, the son heaved with nary effort made, severing crown from trunk in hideous display. Dead were they, the brigands three, so rush to father doth son go to embrace the fading light held within the lanterns of his da's eyes.

"Son," said he, the craftsman wounded unto death. "Remember well that not to God alone does Creation fall, that father and son can build a better kind of man if that be his path to choose. From the detris of the mortal life were you made, from the cast-off leavings of the dead. So selfish they who lie beneath the earth, for they deny us craftsmen tools to go about our mighty work! Flee this place my son, your home no more it be. Go to the Black City, the wheel of grinding stone pushed by the bodies politic shall crush you not if you are cunning and keen. The pale rulers in their carrion towers of arrogance will be made to know your race by your hands alone, by your creation and your art, you will build a family. Heed my words, o' Gregor, and shed not a tear for me, for my time ends thusly at this hour, cut short by a brigand's razor."

Son cried not as was said by his father, but touched mask of alabaster to his face, as if in a farewell kiss. Carried did he, the body of his sire, to the cellar, a makeshift grave he thusly dug with the tongue of a mute, but contained within the true love of a son without a father. On the morrow, the son did leave, taking nothing from the home of his birth save his father's tools and image.

Wandered did he, through the fields of ash and bone, truly without a home. Nearly to despair did Gregor fall, but the wind brought to him the scent of one like his father. Travelers two were they, gaunt and fair of hair, yet dull of eye and sick of body. From the twisted steel of dwellings past did Gregor stumble, his mouth unable to form words but a mumble, that to them were sounds of lunacy and danger. Pine did he, for others like his da, to touch warm flesh again, to feel anything other than dust and night and mask of alabaster. Flee, did they, the travelers filled with panicked fright at the sight of the spindly visitor. After them did Gregor forge, reaching out with arms rail-thin, hoping to be alive again in the presence of his father's kin. Upon a hole, dug by the burrowing pale wretches of the earth, did a traveler stumble, her arms alone preventing her total fall into the abyss. The other traveler, a man, turned and shouted for Gregor to be gone. Why must he fly? Was not this woman in need of aid? Grasp did he, the trunk of his da's kin, heaving mightily to set her free. With a horrible tear did the first traveler come undone, her bottom half falling beneath the earth as Gregor held her rupturing top, her entrails like wet ropes upon the grey sand. Into a panic Gregor flew, hot tears flowing from beneath his mask of alabaster. Dead! Slain her, had he! His path to violence he did not intend! Then did he remember his father's words well. "If you enact an error, correct it in haste." Dead? No, not she! Not if Gregor fixed the error! Reaching down into the hole, the son snatched the lower half, wiping it clean of dust as the other traveler fled screaming to his fate. Lifting the top half of the woman, he placed it with care upon the lower, smiling happily at the thought of erasing his error. But she did not stir, nor move, nor make a sound, her life's candle having truly drowned.

After some Delays I'm here.
The Mexican dust was agitating Atticus as he sat in some rust bucket of a pick up truck waiting for Nickolai to find and mark the target. Siren was in the next village over getting lodging for the week. He was already approached by three scums asking if he wanted a small baggy of some illegal white dust or a lady friend in some dark and probably ambushed full ally. Atticus didn't mind the offers but they gave him unwanted attention. And knowing Old Man Kick Ass and his code of being a shadow's shadow the way Atticus was going about it would've been high treason in the homeland.
Petrov was in a dimly lighted bar with the ghouls he has been tracking for the last week and had already gotten them to think he ran with some Russian mafia wanting to make a deal with them to travel corpses and cocaine to and from Russia.
"So, how did you get in the body running game my Russian friend." The slime ball ask with curiosity in his eyes and some disgust in his voice when he pronounced Russian. It just got a smirk out of Petrov as the body runner and his ghoul friend sat there across from him trying to get him to break.
" When i was a kid i needed some cash to pay for my mom's meds well back then the commies didn't like the fact that people who were low on the ladder needed so much help. So i had to join the mafia that i'm currently representing to get the cash. I saw a vamp drain a guy and once i told my boss about it he sent me to this type of work trying to set up deals with people who need more exotic taste in food." Both nodded their heads and filed out as they could understood the pitiful boy who needed money for his mom's operation story... unbelievable that they fell for it but they fell for it.
Atticus was distracted by a young Latina that was strutting her stuff down the road and being a man he was enjoying the view. So much he didn't realize his boss got into the truck was staring at him with some angry aggression in his eyes. "Atticus what the Feth are you doing?" the old communist said in a flat voice waiting for a stupid excuse.
"Observing the surroundings" Atticus said still attached to the sight and after the few moments of processing the voice of who asked he then turn his head to say another answer. " Observing for any unnatural activity while you were inside the bar. Sir." the answer was rewarded with a dissaproving nod and the truck's engine was started with a roar that shrank into a puff and the creaky wheels began to roll. After two hours of boring desert and flying dust they reach the small ranching village that's life blood was goat milk. The sum of the community were standing in one of the lots that held a pack of scared goats looking over a few dead goats.

Nice, but I don't seem to see your character sheet posted anywhere in this thread shroud.

wait a sec i'll find it....
Found it...Like a needle in a hay stack

Player-Shroud010
Character- Atticus Risus
Race-Human
Faction-Hunter (Witch hunter) The Hunters of the Bear.
Physical Description- He is 6 even and he is always wearing a soviet issue trench jacket but has much different insignias then the old soviet uniform. He has black that he tends to dye ether blue or green, currently black and blue. He has some stubble but not much real facial hair. He wears glasses on his off time because his contacts irritate him.

Virtue-Loyalty
Vice- faithless
Other Information- Doesn’t mind werewolves all that much has been seen several times negotiating territory contracts with them in the past.
Wargear-Shotgun(free): Basic weapon (M1014), Light sword(20pts)Stab Vest(20pts)Stake Launcher(50pts)

Backstory
Atticus was was thirteen when his parents were brutally murdered and drained of blood by vampires while they were touring in Moscow in 2000. Two years later he was discovered by the still loyal to the soviet union "Hunters of the Bears" who mission was to eradicate all vampires that stayed within the Union's borders and recruit any other supernatural force for Stalin's secret army if they refused they were added to a list of terminations to be made in future years. The army has deserted the scythe and hammer for freedom and by doing so made the hunters weak and left on the brink of legend. Atticus showed talent for hunting the fanged assailants as well as negotiating with their natural enemies the were wolves. The organization decided that the capitalist born talent may be useful and made him into an apprentice when he was sixteen. For six years it took him to reach their standards at the age of twenty two and another year to prove he shouldn't be used as bait anymore. Now on his twenty forth birthday the organization has brought up a name that stirred deeply repressed memories for Atticus. A jumbled and erratic vision of the dark Moscow ally shows two unfamiliar figures gorging themselves on the bodies of his parents.
"Sevk. These Americans are delicious! Maybe we should go for more tourists sometime next week?" The vision broke itself as several of his friends had grabbed him and pushed on the ground as his pistol pointed at the leader, a man known as G.K.B. Each taking a turn trying to knock him unconscious. Atticus was thrown in a pit where they starved out vampires untill they decided to let him talk. Once he explained that it was Sevk who killed his family and he was going through a mental relapse was when G.K.B. decided to put him in the scouting cell in charge of finding Sevk. With him was Nicolai Petrov and a girl a year his junior Siren.

Petrov
A senior member and head disciplinary judge within the Hunters of Bears. He is G.K.B.'s oldest and closest friend. Rumuours claim that he had a mage extend his life so he can serve the organization even longer.
Class Tank
Virtrue: Honest
Vice Wrath


Siren
Was raised by the organization was used as bait for four years since she was 9. She got her name becuase she would sing lullabies to herself so she wouldn't be frighten but like the sirens of the Odyssey the songs brought the monsters to their deaths. When she was 19 she was ambushed and her throat was severely damage nearly destroying her vocal cords. She can still speak but causes her great pain, speaks through sign language.
Class Lazarus
Virtrue: Caring
Vice wrath.

Mordoskul wrote:Alone. For the first time in his 'life', Gregor was truly alone. His father had been murdered by a band of slavers, who had intended to clap Gregor's whip-thin wrists in irons and carry him off to the Black City to toil in the mines for eternity. They had come skulking down to his father's workshop just beyond the city gates, a pale trio with blades of iron and brands of flame, burning down the house of wood and cutting father deeply in the side. The made-man rushed to his defense, tearing limb from trunk in gory spray, and heaving thatched furniture at the intruders, wishing only to be left alone with his da. His father screamed, greatly he protested at the disturbance of their peace, hating the shattering of his joy at the hands of these unclean brigands. The son shielded his maker with his own body, standing quite still as blade and bullet ate his flesh with metal teeth and fiery gizzard. Skin did part, and stitches fray at the dread onslaught of the attackers, but the resolve of the son made harm to the father impossible. Of the brigands, one did recklessly stray too near the spindly Gregor, whom by the torso did he grab, and sever him from his avarice by force of arm, scattering the pieces 'cross the floor in a most gruesome display. Hesitate, did they, the marauders double, for they feared the strength of the wight before them. With a moan of horrible fright and fear, lurching forward did Gregor near the wicked troupe, his thin fingers peeling flesh from skull and meat from bone. Twitch did he, the robber thing, then moved no more and was still. Terror swelled loudly from lungs of the final intruder, given voice upon the tongue, his madness was made vocal. Clapping fingers white as bone 'bout the pate of the brigand, the son heaved with nary effort made, severing crown from trunk in hideous display. Dead were they, the brigands three, so rush to father doth son go to embrace the fading light held within the lanterns of his da's eyes.

"Son," said he, the craftsman wounded unto death. "Remember well that not to God alone does Creation fall, that father and son can build a better kind of man if that be his path to choose. From the detris of the mortal life were you made, from the cast-off leavings of the dead. So selfish they who lie beneath the earth, for they deny us craftsmen tools to go about our mighty work! Flee this place my son, your home no more it be. Go to the Black City, the wheel of grinding stone pushed by the bodies politic shall crush you not if you are cunning and keen. The pale rulers in their carrion towers of arrogance will be made to know your race by your hands alone, by your creation and your art, you will build a family. Heed my words, o' Gregor, and shed not a tear for me, for my time ends thusly at this hour, cut short by a brigand's razor."

Son cried not as was said by his father, but touched mask of alabaster to his face, as if in a farewell kiss. Carried did he, the body of his sire, to the cellar, a makeshift grave he thusly dug with the tongue of a mute, but contained within the true love of a son without a father. On the morrow, the son did leave, taking nothing from the home of his birth save his father's tools and image.

Wandered did he, through the fields of ash and bone, truly without a home. Nearly to despair did Gregor fall, but the wind brought to him the scent of one like his father. Travelers two were they, gaunt and fair of hair, yet dull of eye and sick of body. From the twisted steel of dwellings past did Gregor stumble, his mouth unable to form words but a mumble, that to them were sounds of lunacy and danger. Pine did he, for others like his da, to touch warm flesh again, to feel anything other than dust and night and mask of alabaster. Flee, did they, the travelers filled with panicked fright at the sight of the spindly visitor. After them did Gregor forge, reaching out with arms rail-thin, hoping to be alive again in the presence of his father's kin. Upon a hole, dug by the burrowing pale wretches of the earth, did a traveler stumble, her arms alone preventing her total fall into the abyss. The other traveler, a man, turned and shouted for Gregor to be gone. Why must he fly? Was not this woman in need of aid? Grasp did he, the trunk of his da's kin, heaving mightily to set her free. With a horrible tear did the first traveler come undone, her bottom half falling beneath the earth as Gregor held her rupturing top, her entrails like wet ropes upon the grey sand. Into a panic Gregor flew, hot tears flowing from beneath his mask of alabaster. Dead! Slain her, had he! His path to violence he did not intend! Then did he remember his father's words well. "If you enact an error, correct it in haste." Dead? No, not she! Not if Gregor fixed the error! Reaching down into the hole, the son snatched the lower half, wiping it clean of dust as the other traveler fled screaming to his fate. Lifting the top half of the woman, he placed it with care upon the lower, smiling happily at the thought of erasing his error. But she did not stir, nor move, nor make a sound, her life's candle having truly drowned.

Nice one William Shakespeare.

Dammit. Can I get a delete?

... Sasha Reynolds hung up her phone and returned to her files, cross referancing compiled data reguarding every know Mage and Djinn on the Networks radar...
File after file flickered past her eyes on the screen before she finally paused...reading intently...a small smile spreading over her ruby red lips..
" Hmm yes" she purred " He would do nicely"
She quickly printed all data on the subject called " Illuminatus" and slipped the stack of pages into a folder, marking it Priority ....
" Yes" she said with a nod " He would do nicely indeed"

Unfolding her long legs, she stood...stretching ...sighing as her spine crackled, she threw a quick glance towards the office clock...almost 4:00 AM..
Though she was extreamly tired...she decided to make one last call before retiring to her quarters...
She sat for a moment..waiting for an answer on the other line...after a moment she spoke..
" This is Reynolds" she said..." I felt it prudent to call and request that T.R. be informed that I may have located the perfect catalyst.."
She sat quietly for a moment...listening to the voice at the other end of the line...then hung up..
She exited her small office and walked slowly down the hallway...musing to herself how important this Illiminatus could be to Project 66.

Andy was up again, this time the torture chamber would be his office instead of his hell. The offender, a ghoul, the offense, suggesting physical relations with Claudia. Andy had thought about the punishment, the ghoul was going to have his tongue removed, but how to do so was the major question. Andy looked at the chart on his little metal desk, a one way mirror above it and the rest of the room along with his tools on the opposite end. Claudius like to watch the tortures sometimes, and it was mandatory for Andy's punishment to be witnessed to make sure he wasn't getting anything less than what had been ordered, Andy could tell them that it wasn't, he counted each time. The ghoul was sitting in the chair, staring at Andy who was busy hunched over the desk and staring at the clipboard with the information on it. Andy turned to look at the ghoul and mumbled to himself, it would be hard for him to actually do anything because he was missing a hand, but he always managed to find a way. The buzzing announced the use of a small speaker and the presence of someone in the witness room behind the mirror. "Well, get on with it then.". The voice was all too familiar, Claudius stood behind the mirror, waiting for Andy to do what he was supposed to.

"Yes sir." Andy said while turning to the ghoul and walking over to him, "You're not just going to let me cut out your tongue are you?" Andy asked the ghoul who sat with his jaws locked and his eyes staring defiantly at him. Andy shrugged "Have it your way then." he said while turning to the wall and opening up a small toolbox, after looking through the tools he pulled out a hemostat. It was small, but would suit its task nicely. Andy stood towering over the seated ghoul and held the utensil so that the light from above would reflect off of it, not necessary but a nice psychological effect.

He put the hemostat over the nose and pulled it tightly closed, the ghoul began to breath through his mouth thanks to the closing of his nostrils and also due to the amount of pain he was going through as the metal grooves bit into the skin of the nose. "There we go, you're now a mouth breather." Andy said as he patted the ghoul on the back, "Now you're probably going to try to bite my hand if I reach for your tongue so... I'll just use this." he said as he pulled a pair of filter pliers out of a different toolbox and clamped them down on the ghoul's tongue, the teeth on the end bit into the tongue and gave a good grip for Andy to pull them with. The ghoul's eyes began to produce tears as a small amount of blood began to trickle from the tongue, and eventually most of it was outside of the ghoul's mouth but still attached. "Now I have to cut your tongue out," Andy said with a sigh, "but seeing as though I don't have another hand to use a knife or something this will do." he said as he lowered his right hand before launching it up into the bottom of the ghoul's chin, causing him to bite entirely through the meaty part of his tongue. Blood poured out of the tongue and into the ghoul's mouth and he began to gag on his own blood. Andy set the tongue and pliers on a nearby cart and then removed the hemostat from his nose and set it on the cart as well before pushing the ghoul's head forward with his right hand. As the blood poured freely from the mouth and onto the ghoul's lap Andy pulled out a small flame torch and turned it on, the blue flame would be used to cauterize the bleeding muscle. "Stick out what's left of your tongue." Andy said as the ghoul sheepishly obliged, his eyes closed to prevent himself from seeing what was in store. The sizzling sound of burning tissue filled the air along with its complementary smell, the blackened muscle would no longer bleed, but would hurt like hell and the ghoul proved that it hurt with his sobs as he sat tied to the chair. Andy began replacing his tools as the door to the right of the mirror unlocked and produced a happy looking Claudius who began a slow clap. "Well done Andy, well done." he said as he approached both Andy and the seated ghoul, "Your creativity is pleasing when it comes to matters such as these."

"I just do what I can to get the job done sir." Andy said as respectively as he could. Claudia he could get away with being snide, but Claudius actually owned his life and the collective lives of his family.

"Yes, but you do it so nicely." Claudius said as he examined the crying ghoul's mouth, "Using his own mouth against himself, almost poetic in my opinion.".

"I'm glad you enjoy my work sir, its the reason I'm still here after all." Andy replied humbly, "Of course its by your own graciousness that you even gave me a chance in the first place."

"Well, I appreciate the ass kissing Andy." Claudius said, "But there is something else I wanted to discuss with you. You may have heard through your future in-laws that you have a new hand coming your way."

"Yes sir I have, I appreciate the efforts you're allowing him to go through to produce one for me." Andy finished replacing the tools he had just used.

"It is not without its purpose." Claudius said, "I plan for you to use it soon."

"What's going on?" Andy asked.

"Nothing serious, just a little gamble I have with another member of my kind." Claudius said as he caressed the sobbing ghoul's head, twirling the ghoul's hair with his fingers.

"Well sir, what do I have to do?" Andy asked, worried about the possibilities, he dreaded having to face any hunters especially any that he may have met before.

"Just a little bit of boxing." Claudius replied.

"Boxing," Andy said, "who would accept a bet against a werewolf in boxing... What kind of thing would I be fighting sir?

"Just a really, really big ghoul." Claudius replied, it was going to be one of those Opriknikki, but it would be frowned upon for a vampire to fight a werewolf in a fight. If you won, then you would probably have to be killed for it."

"Well, if its just a ghoul then." Andy said before catching himself, "Well I don't have a choice anyways, but how soon?"

"Tomorrow, and you need to get the hand put on today." Claudius said, "Head over to the workshop and they're already waiting for you."

"Well, thank you sir." Andy said, "I won't disappoint.". Andy left the room and walked out into the long hallway to the outside, placed there to prevent any sunlight from accidentally entering the house. Andy found himself almost skipping towards the workshop, he was incredibly excited at the aspect of getting a new hand and even more excited at the prospect of actually fighting something. The workshop billowed smoke from both the furnace powering the tools, and the chimney providing any extra heat. Upon entering he found a mostly cleared table with several humans and ghouls standing near it, he was beckoned to the table and a mask placed over his face for anesthesia. Within seconds he was asleep and over the course of several hours, the prosthetic hand would be attached to him via leftover muscles.

*******************

Andy woke with foggy vision, the gas had really done a number, but his right arm felt heavier for sure. He lifted his arm above his head and stared at it in the light, a dull metal recreation of the human hand replaced the void that would have been there. He touched the metal with his other hand and was amazed at how soft the metal felt. "Polished it goot." a voice said to his right and Andy looked over in order to see who was saying it. Friedrich sat there, hands folded in his lap, "You should see the palm.". Andy's interest was piqued as he rotated his hand and could see several overlapping pieces of metal, "You can fold your palm mit those plates in place. You can also bend the fingers too, might take some time to make it all work.".

Andy felt his muscles twitching as they pulled the mechanical fingers close slowly. He was amazed at the fact that he was able to use his normal muscle control albeit weak. "How is this possible?" Andy asked.

"I left room in the hand and we pulled some muscle into it." Friedrich said, "There ist a opening in the hand that allowed your natural muscles to fill in where it would be in your natural hand. Now the fingers themselves are too small, zo they are all mechanical but use your nerves and other muscles to work." the ghoul continued to explain his device as Andy tested all of its features out, it felt almost natural, the fingers weakly opening and closing as he needed to get used to the new strains. Andy left the workshop a happier man, and more importantly a man with two hands again.