NationStates Jolt Archive

OOC: This is invite only. I will give names of those who can freely post in here. If you are not on the list go to the ooc thread http://forums2.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=359186 and signup to see if I allow you in. Thank you.

Alexis Mera (AmandaTheGreat)-vampire Death Dealer

Crassus Marcus (Griffon Lord)-vampire Elder

Andrew Vincent (Imoria)-vampire Death Dealer

Virgil "Berserk" Enk (Sigma Octavus)- lychan

Thomas Carson (Rasvar) (Alaqria)-human occupied by demon

Theoden Fenrir (Valient)-lychan

Lujza Batory (Callisdrun)- vampire

Avant Crusade (FCN)- lychan

Seviraloth (High Orc)-high orc

Richard Starbuck (Golden Simitar)-human

Karnath Kal'Dregan (Revenia)-vampire

Pavel Andreyev (Chardonay)-vampire

Dronios -waiting

The Flame Drake Zoltan- waiting


*******CLOSED---CLOSED---CLOSED*********

IC: Heels of solid boots stomped against the wood floors. How odd for us to live in a house that could kill us. The thought echoed in her head, as her foot's noise vibrated across the floor. She had lived in the House of Demor, or what she like to call it the House of Dead and it fit. It reminds me of a Victorian house that meets an British empire castle. As though it appears on the outside it is a castle, on the inside it was their own city. I hate to walk through this room. Social room, is what she called it. It was were most of the vampires hung out and wasted their time. Her normally pleasant, yet showing no emotion face, now covered with distake. Almost like the taste of old milk in my mouth.

Old memories floated in and out of her head and it always dealt with feelings intertwined with concerte objects, be it sour milk. She stopped and shook her head, a trail of black ringlets followed her motion and then rested at her bare shoulders. She wanted to work out some anger and she was on her way to the shooting range. Her outfit was much of one she went out and hunted in, minus the long black trench coat. She wore a black corset with black leather pants and black combat boots to match, although, her boots went up to her knees.

Again she concentrated on her walking. Thump, thump, thump, squeek, thump, thump. She pushed open the door to see about thirty "perfect" faces all smiles. She sighed, they waste their time on drink and food, when they could be doing something productive with their power. As she walked through the room, they all stopped and stared. This was an usual occurance for her, she was used to it, and that almost bothered her.

She kept her eyes straight and made her way in and out as quickly as she could. A several minutes of twists and turns, and climbing stairs, more twists and turns and finally descending downward she came to where she wanted to be. She nodded at the doorman and walked to the shooting range. She grabbed a gun that was left on the table and began to shoot. Hitting directly in the center of the forehead of the statues.

Ah relief. Finally, her day was getting better.

"Stress reliefe?" a voice asked behind her as she emptied the magazine. Andrew Vincent stepped to her side, and placed his two moddified Beretta M93Rs on the table in front of him. Andrew had a cocky air about him, he always had. From his two gunning style of shooting to the motorcycle, he all but reeked of the 'Im the best thing alive, well, undead at least.'

"Whats eatin ya?" he asked, not looking up from the magazines. He hand loaded all of them, and this time, he was finishing off one of the ten in front of him. The Berettas had heavy customization; trigger work, spring, slide, compensators, ported barrel, and above all, they had been modified to fire a .40S&W round. He slammed one of the magazines home, and placed both guns in their respective holsters. "Or should I just let you shoot? Ya know, killing your problems doesn't make them go away," he chuckled. They were perfect examples of that.

It is good to hear his voice, his reason. Alexis's arm dropped to her side, slowly and with determination.

She then turned her face to see her friend's face nearby. His dark and ruggedly beautiful face looming in her sight. Well, it seemed we were all beautiful, but Andrew had a way of smiling that would make her laugh and that made him different from the boring usual.

She nodded her head yes and her curls bounced with agreement. "Last night just wound me up. How could we not get the one with the scar on his eyebrow? I am not sure of what his name is, but I got photographs and will search later. Where was the rest of the team? Worried they wouldn't get back for their tea and cake?" Her voice showed no emotion, but the words could paint a different story.

"And then when I came back, I walk through the commons room and find everyone in their usuall spot, minus some switching around. It just erks me when I see such potential wasted."

She left her gun on the table and began to walk away. She motioned for Andrew to follow. Not sure why I had to do that I know he would have anyway. She sat down at a table with a laptop computer placed on it. It was in the process of searching the database. "Plus, I think Crassus wants me to do another assignment with our other clan. It seems they are alittle more lax than ours is." An eyebrow rose deviantly, "You think maybe we should go to that clan? It seems with anything our group wants to do it goes through a vigerous decision making process and our valuable time gets wasted." I know the answer would be no for me and him, this is our home. But things just seem to be slowing down and where is the fun in that.

She stared at the screen, all white, except in the middle of it black lettering showing searching and a hour glass, mocking them.

"Dont worry about it babe, we'll get him next time. Besides, I've been working on something that'll help us out," he said, following her. He too hated the grouping outside. They lounged about all night, sipping carrafes of blood, waiting for the sun to rise. "And don't worry about them. They dont know how to have fun. Just a bunch of cool wannabe's," he said, flashing a toothy smile and a wink. His fangs were visable.

He sat next to her, staring at the screen, waiting. "Naw, I wouldnt wanna leave, even if this clan is full of stuffy bastards. Sure, they take us for granted, but thats what it means to be a death dealer," he said placing a hand gentlly on her shoulder. Had he been alive, he probably would have tried courting her. But considering that now, nothing would happen, he left it as a strong freindship. Andrew had a strict policy about dating 'co-workers'.

Impeccably dressed, Avant Crusade slowly paced the floor of his study inside an ancient mansion of more than fifteen hundred years old. With slow deliberate steps, Avant slowly crossed the room, his mind turned back to an event that happened more than 500 years ago.

Avant Crusade had originally been the Crown Prince of the Five Civilized Nations, a growing nation in the east that had declared its independence in a rebellion from the Middle Kingdom (aka China) more than two thousand years ago. After the death of his father, Avant Crusade was to be coronated as the new August Emperor, inheriting a position that had come down through the ages. But he was to never enjoy a position that his ancestors and forefathers had held. On the day of his coronation, Avant collapsed, a result of an odd neurological disease that destroyed the majority of his nerves, rendering his nervous system incapable of action, and in effect leaving him helpless. Unable to take the throne, Avant yielded it to his younger brother, Modan, who became the 20th Emperor of the Five Civilized Nations. Meanwhile, each day for Avant slowly became an unendurable agony, leaving him time only to ponder his coming death. But one night, several weeks after his collapse, a beautiful woman stole into his bed chamber. Introducing herself as Taria, the woman bit upon Avant's neck, a delicate kiss that seemed as a rebirth for Avant, for Taria was a lychan. With his health returned to normal and with more strength and energy that he had ever obtained as a human, Avant was overjoyed. And like a worshipping follower, Avant travelled with Taria slowly west, until they arrived in what was then the Holy Roman Empire. In the city of Buda (half of the city Budapest, originally two cities, Buda and Pest, built on opposite banks of the same river, sort of like Minneapolis-St. Paul), Taria disappeared. Stricken with horror and heart-broken, Avant began to search frantically for his benefactor and lover.

Now, five hundred years later, Avant had not given up his search, although he had grown resigned to the fact that he would never find his beloved. With a deep sigh, Avant rose, tears flowing freely from his face, as he exited his study. Why, Taria... Why did you leave me? Why?

Crassus was in his chambers as usual. He sat on his throne, wires still connected to his back. He had only been awakened a couple of days ago but his strengh was returning to him. Untill he was fully regenerated he could only give orders. He began thinking of the Lycans, those dirty little creatures. Soon they would all be gone, he would see to that.

Alexis shrugged her shoulder to get Andrew's hand off her delicate skin. The cold air meet the warm spot where his hand was. She never really liked touch that much. She had learned long ago, when she was in training for control of her father's empire not to show emotion or even feel it. Andrew was dear to her, but he could be expendable, everyone in her surrounding was. She would fight for Andrew, but she would not die for him.

That was just the way she was and Andrew understood that. He was different about his showing off affection and she had become immune to it. He would be like a brother to her, a younger, a smile came across her mind, but her face remained blank.

"How can you saw just forget about it? He saw me. He didn't see you. He probably already told his leader about me. How do you expect me to go out into public when they are nearby. We take them out, but I never let my face show because of my position as ambassador."

There was a beep. "Good the search is done."

Across the page came up information on the man she had photographed.
Romane Quaesar. She scanned the information. He was with a clan. More good information. She located where he was living. She turned towards Andrew.

A smile, fierce, crossed her face for a milisecond, "You want to go lycan hunting?"

Theoden Fenrir sighed.

He walked down the dimly lit flight of stairs at the Kantrawulves Mansion on the Eastern-most point of Vancouver Island. On the way down he spied the waters of Burrard Inlet, and the Yellowish-tinged crescent moon danced and swayed on the water.

He stopped for a moment, and stared outside. He unconciously fingered the red silk of his suit, and thought back to the events of the day.

********

"MOVE MOVE MOVE!"

Bullets blazed by overhead as the deathdealers closed in. The last entrance to their alleyway had been breached, and the Lychans were being mowed down as they fought their last great fight."

"Dammit, they're everywhere! We've been setup," said Theoden. "This drop has been aborted. Repeat, this drop is aborted."

"What about the access codes, sir? I think that we akkhghk..."

Theoden looked back as he reloaded his Berreta, only to see the young man clutching at his throat. A bullet had sliced clean through."

"Pepper. Pepper! Hold on. I'm going to get you out of here, alright?"

"Pack leader, we have got to go NOW!"

Theoden looked up at the man at his shoulder, and looked down once more. Pepper's eyes were still open, but the hands had stopped clutching at his throat. He was still, and cold...

Together, the pack leader and the rest of his crew leapt straight up onto the adjoining building. Then disappeared into the night.

********

Theoden looked down again at the suit in his hand. The color was very near to color of blood that trickled down Pepper's throat.

Then, he continued downstairs, stopping to nod briefly at the doorman and walked to the sparring room. Theoden discarded his suit, and put on a fighting suit.

Suddenly, the lights faded to near black, and a white light illuminated a sign that said, Engage.

Two stationary wooden targets sped out of the wall. While they hurried towards Theo, he changed into his Lychan guise, bones snapping, morphing, aligning to fit his more stronger, faster alias.

The targets arrived, and Theo did not hesitate, snapping their heads off with not a blink

but a sigh.

His night was not getting any better.

Andrew pulled his hand backed. He was used to it by now. He looked at the picture, and commited the image to memory. He pulled out his Beretta's, checked to make sure all 20 round magazines were full, and re-holstered them. "I guess the project will have ta wait. Let me go grab my helmet, and I'll be right there."

As he stepped out, he turned and winked at Alexis, and smiled. "Anthony was wrong. You shouldn't let slip the dogs of war. You should let slip the bats."

Richard Starbuck sat in the park. He had shown the photograph of the man who had destoryed his life around and had gotten somewhere, at least he knew the man was in the city. Its not a man Richard, its like a friggen werewolf.

Richard chuckled as he sipped his cup of coffee. He wore a pair of faded green pants and a navy blue t-shirt, a black jacket, and a black SWAT baseball cap sat on his head. In a small holster on the right side of his belt was a Smith and Wesson Model 696 5 shot revolver in .44 Special. He had several speed-loaders also on him. Richard wasn't stupid just to bring a small revolver, he had several assault-rifles and machine-pistols in his car; and plenty of magizines of silver and regular shells.

He pulled out a picture of a woman holding a baby. She stood at 5'10 with cinammon colored hair, dark green eyes, a light even tan, and a smile bright enough smile to light up the night; the baby stared at the camera, clueless to what was going on, the baby's bald head cover with a baseball cap with SWAT written on it. His wife and son, now dead.

"I'll find that son of a b*tch, no matter what." He mumbled quietly.

Resting in a more than slightly uncomfortable hiding spot, Thomas Carson tapped away at his laptop. His back ached from his hunched stance, but the information gathered was well worth it. Information was one half of his business after all.

He was hunched in a rather tight spot in a maintainance crawl space just under a large room of an unkown purpose. Three bugs carefully inserted fed low quality pictures to him, but now came the hard part. He had to wait for something to happen to tip him off to the workings of the place. Knowing things like this could be useful.

He was rewarded when a rather tall looking man entered the room. He clicked on the record button instantly, then cursed as the lights darkened and he was unable to see for a few seconds. Turning up the light and contrast, he was able to make out two objects entering the room from one wall. He couldn't quite perceive what they were, but they were both moving towards the man.

Then his eyes widened. The man began to change shape! He couldn't tell how, but the man became larger and looked stronger. His arms lengthened, and when the objects reached him he snapped their tops off.

He smiled widely, and he could feel Rasvar in the back of his mind grinning. They had struck paydirt! He had struck paydirt? He had always had trouble with personal pronouns. When there were two of you in one mind it could end up that way. He shook off the thought and looked back to the laptop. He didn't know what he had here, but whatever it was deserved further investigation. It looked important.

And making subtle manipulations to important things was the second half of his business.

She noded and began to gather her equipment. She liked to pack quite lightly, contrary to what men believe women to pack. She slipped on her black leather jacket and slipped into several holders small impact guns (not sure about names and types of guns-make you guess). She liked them small because they normally packed a punch. In another side of her jacket she packed extra ammunition. I am not sure if he really is alone. Her eyes meant Andrew's and their was an animal sense that came out in both of them. They loved the hunt and even more the catch.

They drove off in her black mercedes-benz to where they would find their man.


She skidded to a stop and and hopped out of the car. There he was lying in the street. Wow, a street werewolf junkie. This would be easy and not fun. She looked over her shoulder at Andrew, "This one would bore me, you want to take him out?"

Andrew stepped off his motorcycle, a black Suzuki GSXR-1000. He wore black jeans, black combat boots worn under the jeans, a tight black shirt, and a dark crimson red motorcycle jacket. He wore two shoulder holsters, each with his prize Berettas. He looked the junkie over, then around at the crowd. None seemed to notice the man in the street.

His hands went under his jacket, and he removed the guns. He unsaftied both of them, then looked at Alexis. "Be right back," he said, moving towards the wolf junkie.

Richard sat in a blue Subaru WRX which was on the sixth floor of a parking garage. He liked the car, it had the horse, and cargo area he needed; but it wasn't the same as the 1929 Model J Duesenberg he had gotten from his grandfather.

He finished a Coke he was sipping before climbing out and walked to the trunk. He opened the trunk, revealing the contents. Several compact assault rifles, hand guns, and machine-pistols lay on a blanket, covering several more weapons and boxes meant to hold 500 rounds of .30 ammo for machine guns, filled with magizines. He almost picked up the Tavor CTAR-21, but instead picked up a Sphinx 3000 tactical with a flashlight and laser attachement and several magizines.

He closed the trunk and climbed back in. He drove to a small pub named Foggy Mountain and walked in. He looked around, several people were watching a game of football, some where playing darts, others were drinking and playing cards. He sat down and ordered a beer. He pulled out a black and white photograph of a man, about 5'11, mangy black hair and beard, and a large scar on his left cheek.

"Seen this man?" He asked the bartender. The man picked up the picture and looked at it through dirty glasses.

"Yeah, 'bout two days ago." The bartender said he handed the photo back.

"Remember anything about him?"

"He seemed jittery, always looking over his shoulder like someone was gonna cap him, one paranoid fella."

Richard thanked the barteneder and turned his attention to the TV. He thought as he ate some peanuts. Doubt he knows I'm after him, why would he be so paranoid?

Karn sighed as he wandered down along down the street. The cold night air was brisk, causing the bare skin on the back of his neck to prickle. Or, at least, that was the effect he projected. He was, of course, very good at projecting effects.

Karnath Kal'Dregan. The name was harsh, and it wasn't his real name. It was, however, the name he had used for over two millenia now.

He was a decidedly handsome man, with strong features. His jacket hung loose over an extremely tight black short-sleeved shirt that showed his fit physique off to good effect.

He certainly didn't look the part of the decidedly powerful Methuselah. But if there was one thing that one had to learn about Karn Kal'Dregan, it was that appearances could be deceiving.

More than you know, silly Neonates. More than you know.
----
Karn frowned, slowing his step. His senses were screaming 'ALERT!' at him, and he hadn't survived so long without listening to his senses. His hand slid inside his jacket, tightening around the Smith and Wesson 1006 holstered high on his right hip.

The large frame 10mm was a favored weapon of his, it was big enough to be intimating, (at nine inches long, it was only one inch shorter than your average Desert Eagle.) Further, the 10mm was a real beauty. It combined the mass of a .45 ACP round with the velocity of a 9mm Para round.

He flicked the restraining strap free, and disengaged the external safety, but he did not draw the weapon, and he did not place his finger through the trigger guard.

Karn's 1076 was balanced, and outfitted with a personalized grip. The combination provided a noticeable improvement in his one-handed shooting.

He closed his eyes for an instant, then re-opened them, feeling his senses expand to several times their normal sensitivity. Something strange was most assuredly going on, and strange things could be so much fun....

It was through the Inner workings of the Dark Circle that the portal had opened. It was by random chance that Seviraloth of the Red Blade had been 'volunteered' by Riga to be the only one. Seviraloth's true mission was simple. Infiltrate an urban human settlement, learn how to combat them, adjust tactics in accordance to firearms. Find their weakness, and kill them.

It was a hunt.

As the tall, muscular meta-human creature fell through the portal, almost instantly closing. He rose slowly from his knees. Seviraloth carried his Skell gauntlets, dressed in an Orcish Splint mail. His leather boots belt fit snugly against him. It had been fitted and perfectly crafted to allow him some of the best protection possible for an Orcish Knight. Whether or not this was protection enough from a firearm would be the true test of the Orcish armor, as primitive as it seemed.

Seviraloth carried, as special gear, on loan from the other clans, a ring that could detect magic and the supernatural within 100 feet from the Dark Circle Clan. The Clan of the Red Blade had blessed his Skells in case he should come across the undead. The Dripping Fang had given him a hallowed dagger, which he kept sheathed, that was used in the delivery of poison into the bloodstream with a single thrust. The Raging Bear had offered a single potion which would triple his strength for a duration of five minutes. The Dorn Riders donated a small bow, similiar in Turkish design, and a quiver of 30 arrows with glass tips filled with Greek Fire and an igniter upon impact.

Seviraloth tied his hair back into a ponytail. He had streaked the natural orange color with red highlights. It was dark, but he had perfect nightvision. He slid his skell gauntlets off and hooked them onto his belt. The hunt was on.

Theoden sat on the edge of the velvet chair and glanced around the room. Pictures out of the past sat on the parched walls, ones of former leaders, rivals and allies in the war against the Vampires. Some of those rivals turned into allies, and sadly, many of those allies had turned against the Kantrawulves.

That was the sad thing about wars: they made friends of enemies, and vice-versa. No way about it.

He saw a yellowing photo with the leader of the Kantrawulves, Tyr and Avatre. Together, they sat next to a small, roundish object. There was no inscription or anything to describe what it was.

"Ahh, Fenrir. Good to see you again."

Fenrir stood up and nodded at the figure at the door, It was an aging man, but at the age of over 1000, it would be hard to look any better than he did.

"Tyr. Good to see you as well. I trust that Jones recieved his proper rites..."

"Yes, yes Pepper did so. It was not your fault that the drop did not go as planned. Our source within the Iutyran coven did indeed, set us up. As of now, he has been terminated."

Theo sat down. "I am glad to hear of it sir, but what have I been called for?"

"I will be brief - there is word that some of the covens have been working towards a... united front against our kind. As we speak, Crassus of Demor is being regenerated."

"So..."

"So we must do the same. I need you to personally oversee our relations with the other Lychan Clans. Contact them, see if they have any intel we can use, and vice-versa."

Theo nodded, but inside felt like shaking his head. Yet another cog in the motion that was the never-ending struggle.

"Yes sir. I will see what I can do..."

OOC: Sigma, and other Lychan characters can come and contact the Kantrawulves.

Crassus put on his black robe, he was fully regenerated. He put on his belt and his sword holster

ooc: sorry, I forget what you call those things, but holster is close enough)

IC: He slid the sword into the holster. He has used that sword many times, it was made by the best sword maker in all of europe over 800 years ago. It was a long sword which could be handled with one or 2 hands. The part of the sword that you hold was black with a small griffin imprinted on it. A young vampire walked into the chambers not knowing that Crassu was in there. "GEt me Alexis" prdered Crassus.

(OOC: Its called a sheathe, Griffin Lord. And Amanda, what city are will this RP be based in?)

OOC: Its called a sheath

IC:

ANdrew slid up behind the junkie. He had reholstered his weapons, it wouldn't do him any good to walk around with them exposed. His target was right in front of him, a junkie who had the curse. Lucky for Andrew, it wasn't a full moon. Of course, many of the Lychan had found a way to transform, regardless of the moon. That is why he was quiet about it.

He was five feet from the junkie when his neck hair suddenly stood on end. He stopped moving, and slowly looked around. His eyes danced about teh crowd, and then it hit him. There, he thought, [/i]two.[/i] Two Lychan were moving up behind him, trying to flank him. Simple squad tactics, the muts are learning, he mused with a slight smile. He checked to makse sure the junkie was still in front of him, and, after that, made is move.

He spun to face the two behind him, his guns comming out, and leveled the weapons. Andrew had practiced the art of 'two-gunning', and to a degree, had developed a mastery of sorts. Each M93R was modified to fire a .40 S&W silver tip round. The silvertip wasn't really there to kill a Lychan, not in its trasnformed phase, anyway. There was hardly enough silver. However, when it was in its human phase, the round contained just enough so that four or five would kill. Plus, the use of a soft metla allowed the round to expand, in similar fasion to a holowpoint round.

Despite the guns' ability to fire full automatic or three round bursts, he had set them to semi auto, and squeezed the trigger of each gun five times, sending the bullets out towards the Lychan enemies. The one on the right fell, his head exploding into a mess of brain matter, bone, and blood. The one on the left, seeing the guns come out, dodged. Andrew followed him with the gun, still firing. The rounds impacted harmlessly on the street.

People were running in fear, and Andrew turned, and fired one round into the junkies head, the Lychan falling. He spun again, and saw the other Lychan running into office building. He looked up, saw Alexis watching, and nodded. He chased after the Lychan, and dove through the glass door. He rolled up, and searched. The Lychan was in here somewhere, and he had to find it. Then, he heard it. The deep growl of a large wolf. He turned.

It was a good six foot seven, at least, and covered with a dark brown fur. Saliva dripped from its mouth, and its eyes shone yellow. It held its claws out, and it kept growling. Andrew hissed back, his own fangs visable. "Bring it on, mut," he hissed, bringing his guns up. The wolf charged.

Andrew opened fire, sending more of the silvertip rounds into the Lychan, all but emptying the magazines of each Beretta. As the Lychan got closer, he side stepped, and fired a single round into the back of his head. The magazine of that Beretta locked back, empty. As the wolf turned to him, he fired another round, this one went right through his left eye, and exited out the back of his head. The entrance wound was the sixe of the Lychan's eye, teh exit wound the size of a silver dollar. The magazine on the second Beretta locked back, and the Lychan dropped. Andrew pressed the mag release on both guns, the empty magaznies clattered to the floor, and he slammed two fresh ones in. He saftied and holstered his weapons, then pulled out a knife. It was made of pure silver, and he stabbed the Lychan once in the heart with it, just to make sure.

He found the Lychan's weapons in the corner, and picked them up. Two large Desert Eagles, and five magazines of .357 ammo for each. He slid them into his jacket pocket's, and walked out of the building. He heard sirens, but knew he had a good ten minutes before the cops showed up. He darted into the crowd, and kept his head down, looking for more Lychans.

(OOC: It's also called a scabbard. Such as the handle is called a pommel and there's a hilt and a shaft and everything!)

Richard was eating some steak, a baked potato, and a small salad when he heard the gunfire. Sitting at the bar he dismissed it as gunfire from an old war film now playing on the TV. He took a bit of meat and sat up, now he heard sirens. He jumped off his seat and ran to the door, shouting to the bartender he would be back.

Richard pulled out his revolver and moved through the mass of people. Most tried to shove him out of the way, but he pushed through and was able to reach an alley. His trip now cut in half, he sprinted towards where everyone was running from. He finally went out of the alleys, back to the street, now deserted.

He quickly spied the bodies and moved behind a trashcan. He looked around the windows of the nearby buildings, all the windows where shut, and noone appeared to be on the roofs. He moved to the nearest corpse, the head nearly gone, the other person also was quite dead. Whoever had done it had run off.

He heard the sirens approach and knew the first cops would be on the scene in a few mintues, enough time to see what this guy was armed with. Kneeling next to the body he quickly noticed the Steyr AUG para sub-machine gun and magizines. Whoever he was, he was packing some firepower.

Richard placed the revolver back in his holster and moved away. A minute later the first squad car arrived. Noone had apparently seen him at the scene so, Richard melted back into the crowd, looking for anyone who might be carrying some kind of weapon.

Marking the building's location on his map had been easy. Sneaking out of the building had been easy. Finding a nice public bench to sit on while reading a nice book and covertly observing the entrance of the building had been easy.

Getting a better look at the man he wanted to spy on had not been easy at all. Thomas had crawled through the nooks and crannies of the building until he had found a good hiding spot outside the room, and waited there until the man came out. The trouble was the spot was so uncomfortable that he when he had finally snuck out of it he had fallen to the floor and lay there for several minutes unable to get his muscles to work properly.

But he had seen the man who had changed so drastically in full view. Now all that remained was to wait for him to exit the building and stalk him. It would be problematic, but certainly not impossible.

All he had to do was wait long enough...

Lujza Batory pulled over to the curb in front of a very large castle type building. It was quite similar to some of the "family" homes back in Callisdrun. She got out of the car and walked up to the gate, unsure of whether she had gone the wrong way, now, because of the lack of activity around the ediface. Then she remembered that those who dwelt here would probably be inside by now, as sunrise was not far away. Callisdrunian vampires were weaker than most other kinds, yet stronger in some ways. Their lives, though considered long for humans, were mere minutes compared to their foreign contemporaries' immortality. Yet, Callisdrunian vampires could venture out into the sun, albeit with the help of inordinate amounts of sunblock.

She checked the address and description on the little piece of paper she carried. This appeared to be it. She walked up to the gate, her array of stuff (AK, Callisrunian one-handed battle axe, luger as well as other things) making a slight clanking sound as she walked.

OOC: What happens when she reaches the gate?

Karnath thought for a few moments, then removed let his hand dance across his waist, to grip the hilt of his blade. It was instantly recognizable as a Spatha, the sword of Rome's cavalrymen. However, it was made of Damascene Steel. This was, of course, not readily visible at the moment, as the Spatha was still sheathed.

The minute it was drawn, though, the water pattern was instantly recognizable.

His enhanced senses, specifically, his hearing, picked up the sound of gunfire, not far away. His nostrils twitched, as he took in the scent. It was, of course, the scent of blood. Lupine Blood. Or, Lychan, as the current parochialism went.

He licked his lips, and returned his hand to his 1006. He drew the gun, ejected the mag into his hand, slid it into a pocket, produced a fresh magazine, and slammed it into place. This mag contained nine rounds of ball ammunition, drilled out, now containing a frangible ampule of silver nitrate.

He slid the big Smith and Wesson back into its holster, and cut around the corner, his hands sliding into the pockets of his jacket. He wandered down the alleyway, slick black safety-toed boots click-clacking against the damp concrete.

He sang softly as he walked, a wicked cynicism in his voice...

"It's early morning
The sun comes out
Last night was shaking
and pretty loud..."

His grip tightened slightly on the 1006, his right index finger resting on the trigger guard.

"My cat is purring
scratching my skin..."

He grinned then, as he flattened himself up against the wall at the mouth of the alley.

"So what is wrong
with one more sin?"

He spun about then, noticing the police just beginning to arrive. It was no great feat for a trickster as great as himself to effectively make himself invisible to the coppers, allowing him to examine the Wolfies at his leisure.

Which he did.

"The bitch is hungry,
She needs to tell..."

He knelt down by one of the dead woofs, looking it in the eyes. He fingered the large exit wound, frowning, mumbling to himself,

"9mm Para. Pansy Italian tumbler."

He slammed the dead wolfies head into the ground, powdering it with little enough effort, and slid to his feet, sighing.

"So give her inches
and feed her well..."

He took a rag and a flask from his pocket, and soaked the rag in flask's contents. He dropped the rag onto the woofies torso, then struck a strike-anywhere match on his boot heel and tossed it ontop of the rag.

The liter fluid soaked rag caught instantly, soon, the fire spread to the fine hairs covering the woofs body. Moments later, the corpse was burning.

He walked to the other body, examining it quickly, then giving it the same treatment.

Idiot Vampires.

Rule One: Cover Your Ass.

He would extract payment for services rendered at a later time. But until that time...

"More days to come
New places to go..."

He created an illusion of himself walking away down the street, while he himself used his advanced abilities to effectively become one with the shadows. Perhaps other interesting individuals would stumble across this area...individuals deserving of his...attention.

"I've got to leave
it's time for a show."

Alexis, heard the voice whisper in her ear, "Crassus wants to see you, immediately." Then followed silence. When did Crassus not want to see someone immediately, sighed Alexis. She heard nearby sirens and pressed a button her her corset top, "Andrew, let's book, we got cops on the way. No bother there, but Crassus needs to see me. So, I don't want to leave you here. Let's go. WSe can hunt more later."

She waited several seconds and Andrew came around the corner where she was. They jumped into their vehicles and were on their way back to the estate. On the way back, Alexis thought, what could he want with me now. She was busy with the Death Dealers, she just hoped it didn't have to do with joining of any more covens. Trying to put on a show was not here style.

A crawl of her skin maade her aware that someone was near their house. She sensed another vampire, but she trusted no one. This smell was different, possible another breed, possible a threat. Alexis took the long way to the garage to park her car, she just hoped Andrew was smart enough, which he was, to follow her. She ran out around the building where the female vampire was infront of the gate. Alexis jumped over the tall gate and landed on the ground, making not a sound. She sliped bhind the female and moments later drew her gun and it was the female's back of her head.

"State your purpose here woman or I blow your brains out." She clicked the trigger back, just mere seconds from exploding it.

OOC: I WOULD Post right now but IM piss drunk so ill post when im sober.

Lujza sighed. "You could really be a lot more polite," she said, her strange accent very audible. "My name is Lujza Batory, and I am from Callisdrun. If I wasn't friendly, I would have been a lot less conspicuous."

She turned around, and upon seeing how close the gun was, she widened her eyes and moved her head back a little. "I suppose you're one of those vampiric soldier types, what do you call them... death dealers? Well anyway, I'd like to join your house for a while, the reason being that a conflict has developed within my homecountry and my family has taken what in my opinion is the wrong side. So I left in search of another place. After quite a bit of travelling, I was referred to your house." Lujza was dressed in much less formal, much dingier clothing than the woman who had... greeted her. She wore just a plain black t-shirt, with some Callisdrunian writing on it, jeans (also black) a thick belt with the Batory family emblem on it, the dragon swallowing its own tail with three wolves' teeth in the center, held her axe. On her feet she wore Callisdrunian military boots, and over everything she wore a well-worn black trench coat.

Her black eyes smoldered with some sort of enigmatic intensity. It was a trait of her family. "I've also been informed that you're having a bit of a... dog problem. If you want, I'll gladly be of service. We do not have these... creatures in my homeland, though, so I will need to learn how to deal with them properly." Lujza put her hands defiantly on her hips, as the wind whipped up her hair. It would be sunrise soon.

Richard had gone back to the pub and finished his meal. He walked for several blocks before he heard something from an alley. Flicking on the laser/flashlight attachment on the Sphinx he moved into the alley.

The gun at the ready he moved deeper into the darkness. Then he heard a heavy thump behind him. Richard turned to see a massive lycan, baring it's teeth several meters away.

"Oh sh*t."

He moved to raise the automatic the last bit to fire, the lycan was faster ramming into him, Richard was tossed back, the automatic flying from his hands. Lying against a wall he desperatly grabbed for his revolver, the little pistol barked harshly.

Three rounds smacked into it's flesh, the last two missed. The creature continued to apporach as Richard quickly placed another 5 rounds into the gun. His only silver rounds were in assault rifle magizines, and those were about two or three per every 5-10 rounds.

Richard aimed again and this time waited before firing. The .44 shell tore into the lycan, it quickly jumped into another alley. Richard fired the last round after it. He wasted no time moving back the way he had come, picking up the Sphinx and moving back into the street.

He slowed his pace, his back hurt, a lot. Leaning against his car he placed both weapons back into thier holsters and took several deep breaths, trying to slow his heart rate.

Quietly continuing to mourn the loss of his beloved, Avant warily and wearily left his mansion and began to walk the streets of the city. I have lost something that can never be regained... Most of my hope, my beloved, my family, and my very soul... But I still live... A torment that will never end... I... Must continue living with the last hope that still endures within my mind and my body... The hope that I can one day regain my beloved... Stopping suddenly in the middle of the street, tears began to flow freely from Avant's eyes...

With a saddened flick of his hand, Avant wiped away the tears that had tormented for over five hundred years. With a sigh of resignation, Avant continued walking...

As he entered a new neighborhood, a car screeched by, thundering past Avant as it drove expertly and swiftly into a driveway. Narrowing his eyes, Avant moved closer, silently approaching the house as he watched earnestly. With shock, Avant saw a woman step out of the car and move swiftly towards another woman standing in front of the gate and stopped, a revolver raised.

With a silent growl of frustration, Avant almost leapt to the assistance of the woman, when his keen nose smelled the senses of vampires. With a sneer of disgust, Avant turned and began to walk away, a hatred welling deep within his soul. Suddenly, he stopped, as he finally realized where he had seen the first woman before. With a sniff of realization, tears began to flow anew... Its her! My beloved... She's a vampire??? How... This cannot be true... Frozen in his place, Avant raised his head and howled, a mournful sound which carried over the air... Unable to control himself, Avant slowly began to transform, a transformation fueled not by his will, but by his emotions... Soon, fur began to grow all over his body as Avant grew in size... Bigger and bigger, hairer and hairer...

With a howl, Avant turned, growling hideously as he bounded away, his human mind attempting to regain control of himself...

He heard them before he smelled them, and he smelled them long before he saw them. He would have felt them before he saw them, as well, if he wasn't supernaturally fast, which, incidentally, he was.

It was bloody crazy. One minute he was there, right in the path of this great bloody blurring silver sword, swinging down to cut him directly in two. The next moment, he was a few steps out of reach, and facing his assailant. He snickered.

"Brion."

The humanoid was brown haired, wearing a tight shirt and a pair of loose, well-worn jeans. He had already brought the big silver sword, a grand klaive, back to a low-guard position.

"Karnath," the human answered.

"It has been a long time, my friend," was Karnath's response.

The shorter irishman smiled at him, "Aye, that it has."

Karnath slowly drew his Spatha from its sheath. It was an absolutely beautiful weapon, with the wavy, almost hypnotic lines of the damascene steel it was made from adding to the simple beauty of the two-foot long straight-bladed sword.

It was a much shorter weapon than his opponent's grand klaive, but it had been a gift from a friend of his heart, and he was decidedly skilled with it.

"Brion, my friend, we never were warriors, we two."

The irishman looked at the taller gypsy, and smiled, "No, we are not. Still, we fight."

Karnath smiled as he nodded.

The irishman removed his shirt, handing it to one of the four or so men flanking him, and then he began to change. It was rather impressive, the way his already powerful frame grew even more muscular. That of course, was not nearly so impressive as the fact that, at the end of the Change, he was a good nine feet tall.

The big werewolf held the four foot Grand Klaive with extreme ease, and Karnath knew that he could use that deadly fetish blade with as much skill and speed as the now much smaller gypsy wielded his cavalry sword.

"Here I am,
Rock you like a hurricane."

It was impossible to tell which who moved first, vampire or werewolf. Steel clashed, and the two flew back. They were both operating with the speed enhancements of their particular species, and they had fought many times before.

They dashed together again, steel ringing upon fetish silver like rapid-fire gunshots. Then it was Karnath's turn to defend, as Brion took the offensive. He twisted his Spatha about like a living snake, expertly deflecting blow after blow, not trying to stop them.

He could not match the werewolf in the area of strength. That would have been obvious to anybody who happened to wander along. So, he relied on his mind.

Karnath spun, driving his Spatha down in a whirling stab. The great silver fetishblade was out of position for a mere instant, and that was all Karnath needed. Damascene Steel drove to its hilt into the black-furred werewolf's side.

He spun in reverse, drawing the Spatha clear, re-assuming a position of defense. His fancy reverse almost cost him his life.

The werewolf and the vampire shared many things in common, including the fact that both of them were ambidextrous. Brion had switched hands, and now his grand klaive whistled down on a course for Karnath's neck.

The gypsy ducked down, letting the big sword pass over him cleanly. However, Karnath's pre-occupation with the grand klaive was exactly what the tricky irish werewolf wanted, and his clawed right hand slashed in, leaving behind four claw-slashes in the vampire's chest.

Then the screams started, and the two enemies swore, loudly. In two different languages, at that. It was rather interesting to hear a giant wolfman and a tall gypsy with a roman cavalry sword begin cursing, one in Gaelic, the other in Romani.

Brion began to shrink, as he returned to his natural homid form. He stepped back, accepting his shirt from one of his companions, pulling it on over his glistening torso.

The irishman and his lackeys retreated into the shadows, and Karnath did not attempt to follow. Instead, he sheathed his Spatha and turned to face the new threat.

The local werewolves didn't much like Brion and his Irish friends. Brion was a civilized individual. These local 'lychans' were not.

The two lychans advancing upon the powerful gypsy trickster were big, hairy men. They snarled, and attacked, not even giving the common courtesy of a pre-battle dialogue.

Karnath sighed and spun to the side, as a matador would anger a bull, drawing his 1006 as he did so.

The big Smith and Wesson rose, aligning itself with the center body mass of the first Lychan. The feral werewolves were still busy re-orienting themselves, and Karnath could spot the beginnings of the change.

He squeezed off a round. The 10mm Glaser slug hit the first lychan in the chest, fragmenting upon entry, scattering its contents about the partially-changed lychan's innards.

It, of course, did not stop him. However, when Karnath raised his point of aim slightly, and squeezed off a round, the almost fully-Changed wolf did, in fact, stop.

Because he had a hole between his eyes, and a ten millimeter slug was buried deep within his brain. The ampule had shattered, as was intended, and the silver nitrate it sheltered did its job.

Karnath turned slightly, his pistol re-aligning, just in the nick of time. The other lychan was barreling down on him like some sort of righteous berserker, eyes showing the pure animalistic rage that controlled it.

He squeezed off two rounds, both body mass shots, then raised his point of aim slightly, and fired again.

The third shot, the one that punched through the Lychan's teeth and into his maw, was pure gravy. The two holes in the lychan's muscular chest proved this to be true.

He slowly lowered his pistol, flicking the safety on and returning the 1006 to its holster. He stepped forward, and grabbed the first now dead lychan by the hair. He knelt, his nostrils fluttering a he smelled the repungant scent that he had associated with these feral parochials.

He bit into the Lychan's carotid artery, draining what blood was left in its body, then threw it to the ground. He produced a pair of rags, soaked them both in lighter fluid from his flask, lit them with a tossed match, then created a static illusion to dissuade any investigation into the burning corpses.

He sighed, and walked off. Brian O'Callaghan, or, rather, Brion ó Ceallacháin, would not seek a second confrontation. The short battle he had instigated earlier was merely a polite notice of his presence, and his intent to make his exit.

Karnath would not attempt to hunt the Irishman down, for that would be stupid. Seeking conflict with that werewolf was foolish, even for a Methuselah like Karnath Kal'Dregan.

He sighed, then. The claw wound on his chest hurt. He could not heal it as he could a normal wound, and this was not a good thing. However, the wound he had given Brian was easily the equal of the wound that Karnath himself had sustained.

He smiled, and opened his senses to the night, seeking out the inevitable concentration of undead energies that would signify the primary vampiric haven in this city. Locating this, the wily Methuselah slid his hands into his pockets and wandered off in the general direction of that conflux of vampires.

The auric signatures indicated a decidedly odd ratio of Ancillae to Neonates and fledgelings, leaning extremely heavily towards the weaker vampires. Karnath decided that this was due to the decidedly large presence in the city of this odd species of werewolf.

It was simple logic that the soldiers of the court would have been worn away, and the elders would have had to recruit heavily to make up for this. There was, however, a decided lack of elder energy signatures, maybe three or so, barely more.

And one individual elder who was somewhat more powerful than the rest. This individual, Karnath decided, was the city's prince.

No matter. He would cross that bridge when he came to it.

OOC: Umm, 5CN, I dunno what you are trying to do with your plot twist, but i think ATG said that I would be playing the role of the "star-crossed lover" in this thread. However, that is fine: looks like Theo has some competition. :P

IC:

Theoden and his reformed Alpha Pack strolled the streets of the city in human form, choosing the inconspicuous way to traverse and try to make contact with the other Lychans.

It had been too long since any of the clans had worked together, let alone kept up the front of any sort of alliance. Now that the deathdealers had moved forward with their agenda, it meant that such an alliance must be hammered out, at least for the near-future.

Eyahhwoooo...

Theo looked around calmly as the other members of the pack drew their semi-automatics.

"Calm down everyone. This may help expediate our search."

Around the corner bounded a large Lychan (Avant). The pack raised their gun sights, while Theo just raised his right hand.

"Hold friend. What manner of Lychan are you?"

OOC: Just so everyone knows, Lujza is only 24 years old. Just to clear that up

(OOC: Sure thing, Valient... BTW, Avant is going to have his heart ripped out, figuratively not literally, once he finds out, but whatever...)

With a growl of impatience, the fully grown werewolf stood on his hind legs, rearing up. With an angry growl, Avant continued to move forward, his eyes ablaze with the emotions that had fuelled his transformation. With a howl of disgust, Avant slowly gained control of his mind, although he maintained his transformation.

In a rasping voice, filled with anger and pent up rage, Avant spoke. "What manner of lychan am I? You dare to ask me this? No one in my life has dared to speak to me with such impetuousness... You, are no more than a mere pup... I still smell the stink of your mother's milk upon your face..."

With another word, Avant turned around, his movements a blur as he swiftly moved to return to his mansion. Reluctantly, he called out as he ran, "Come to the Granciso Mansion at noon tomorrow... You will find me there..." And he continued running, maintaining his evolved wolf-like form...

Virgil knew there where both lycans and bloodsuckers out tonight. He had heard the howls of his breathren, the gunfire and sword clashes of battle. He was prepared for a battle that could happen at any moment. The six foot long great sword resting below his trenchcoat reminded him of the many battles he had survived against the bloodsuckers. The handle still stuck quite a ways into the air past his head, but in the darkness it wouldn't be too noticable.

A cop car drove past, sirens making a great deal of noise for this time of the night. He blended into the shadows, this being quite a difficult task for someone of his size.
(OOC: And now to somehow get involved in the story)

From a distance, Thomas watched a large group of men follow his mysterious changer down the street. They bore concealed weapons, though their concealment was not that great, and they all wore similar clothing, almost as if they formed a military unit. Rasvar helped to listen into their sparse conversation, but not much came up.

A howl rang out. The group abandoned all pretenses and drew their weapons. Each one bore a semi-automatic. The same weapons. VERY military. They all rushed around a corner, and Thomas ran as fast as he could to keep up from his distance.

A wolf! There was a full grown wolf standing upright in front of the men! And it spoke! Rasvar listened intently.

"What manner of lychan are you?" he heard. Werewolves! That was what the man had turned into! He felt a bit of a thrill, and Rasvar felt a bit of a thrill too. Now this was something to find out more about! This was something interesting! He listened more. There were a few insults, then...

"Come to the Granciso Mansion at noon tomorrow... You will find me there..."

A time and a place! He could set up! It sounded like the two would meet! This was the perfect opportunity to mess in the affairs of others!

Now, how to go about it? He would need to set up at this place ahead of time. Granciso Mansion... he knew where that was. He would need some bugs... audio, maybe tap into some security cameras if they had any. Tag one of the werewolves perhaps...

Attend the meeting?

He threw the idea away. From what he had heard the werewolves would smell that he wasn't one of them instantly. He would have to sit back and spy until the right moment.

You idiot! cried Rasvar. I can imitate that smell! Werewolf is easy! It's just a combination of wolf, human, and supernatural! And smell is just a mind game. They'll never notice such a subtle difference.

And that would leave getting in. If that werewolf went to the mansion with that little army... pack... of his, he could just slip in looking like one of them. They probably wouldn't notice as long as he blended in. Close scrutiny would reveal him, but he could always stick to the edges of the group for a quick escape.

Noon at Granciso Mansion... he would be there. Quietly, he turned to leave and ready himself.

The Pack strained forward, as if to move forward after Avant. However, Theo put his hand up, and held them back.

"We'll play along with his game for now, gentlemen. Tomorrow, he will see that there is really no other option than to ally with us."

WheeooWheeooWheeoo

The cop car drove past, but did not stop for the sight of the 10 strong Alpha Pack. As soon as it had turned the corner and the sounds had faded, Theo turned toward a patch of shadow.

"Alright, the police are gone. You can come out now... (Virgil)"

OOC: Hey gang I will post after work tonight...working at a bar, I get to watch the drunks (imortia)...I am done around two in the morning. Sorry about the delay. Weekends I work at both jobs.

OOC: Ummm... I know a response will come too late, but the scedule you set for yourself is pretty meaningless to me unless I know what time zone you're in.

Oh, and try to have a not-so-bad time at work. ;)

Richard drove past a screaming cop car. He knew of the crazyness following a shooting. He had stayed several hours at scenes after fouled up bankrobberies, gang killings, etc. The one thing he didn't get was the style the two men who were most likely now on their way to the corner's died.

He had seen bodies of people riddled with gunshot wounds from drive byes. But both men had take fatal shots to the head, which would only mean the shooter had taken his time in killing his enimes. The man Richard had looked at had his hand resting on his weapon, either the man was too slow or the shooter was shooting double weapons.

Richard took his eyes from the road for a second to flip through a few tracks on his CD player when he slammed on his brakes. Someone had turned the corner without stopping coming down the same lane as Richard. The man behind the other vechile swerved and missed Richard, but his car went into a wild spin.

The WRX skidded to a stop, it's headlights falling directly onto the Alpha Pack.

OOC: Noe that I've managed to sober up after a very long, fun weekend, I think I'll go ahead and post. Also, rumor as it that they are releaing a Sequel to the movie Underworld, and a special edition DVD has just been released. Yay for that.

IC:

Andrew saw Alexis jump the intruder, and knew that she had it under control. He guided his Suzuki GSX-R 1000 into a garrage full of cars, and killed the engie, grabbing his helmet. He entered the building and began his walk to the firing range. On his way in, he was stopped.

At the Texas A&M University, there were a group of girls known as Corp Whores, who would only go after a guy if he was in the Corp of Cadets. Vampires also had these women, well, one would guess you would call them women. They would only go after Death Dealers, and would do so near fanaticaly. Chloe Martesy was one of those girls.

Her 'crush' on Andrew was like that of a school girl, and she imideiately approachd him as he entred the main foyer. "Hey Andrew," she said, sliding up and pressing herself against him, "how was the hunt?"

He pushed her away slightly. He didn't have the time, nor was he in the mood if he did. "Not now Chloe."

"Aww, c'mon baby, it'll be fun. Just forget about the stuffy old Death Dealing for a few hours, come sit with us. I've got a great bottle, they say its the blood of Winston Churchill." By now, she was all but humping his leg like a dog, her arms wrapped around him. He still pushed her away.

"No, I'm busy," he said. By now he was on the other side of the foyer, and in the gun range. He looked at his case sitting on the table, and opened it. Inside were 100 rounds of his specialized silver nitrate rounds. A small plastic capsule was mounted insed a hollow point .40 S&W round. On impact, the round, like all hollow points, would expand. This would cause the capsule to eject from teh round, and the frangible pill sized tube would explode, sending a direct deadly dose of silver into the blood stream of the Lychan. He looked at another vampire who worked the range.

"At the rate of production, we can have a thousand rounds of these by the end of the evening. In a week, standard ammo for all the death dealers." Andrew nodded, and began loading his two empty magazines with the rounds. He would empty his other magazine down range into targets, then fill those, too, with the silver nitrate.

((Note: I know I'm not on "The List," but after a brief "talk" with ATG, she said it would be alright if I joined.))

David watched with crossed arms as the pair of death dealers arrived back at their fortress, and caught the fringes of a conversation just outside the gates between the two females.

The vampire stroked the fine scarlet silk that masked his lower face and hid his eternally sardonic grin. It danced down his slim figure until it met the brooding black splotch that signified the void that was his soul, the loss of his humanity, the feeble shreds of his sanity that remained.

'Awww...now that's just mean.' A voice in his head reflected on his emotions. 'You did alllll those things to yourself, remember? I just...facilitated it.'

"Oh shut up." He murmured out loud. "I thought you were supposed to be the god of Justika Korrupt, not some idiot with bad comebacks."

'Your mom.'

David would have loved to have elbowed that damned demon in the face, but that would have meant hitting himself in the face, and that merely would have made him look imbecillic. He sighed heavily and continued to watch the exchange outside of the mansion. What he would learn from this altercation would prove invaluble, as he planned to infiltrate the organization eventually. He hoped the young woman would be allowed into the castle, for if she wasn't, it would only put them on alert and hamper his own efforts. Lychans were generally harder to find, as they prowled continuously rather than erecting a base in a handily easy-to-find castle. He would have to observe them eventually, however. By joining the death dealers and then spying on the lychans, he could kill two birds with one stone.

The game was on between the vampires and the lychans, and the referee was in town.

Karnath wandered along the currently empty street, humming a tune that was decidedly odd coming from as ancient and individual as the Methuselah.

He checked his watch, a hand-built solid silver swiss quartz piece, and nodded slowly. It was about this time, that the local vampire coven would receive a call.

The caller would identify himself as "Cale Marin, Elder of the Court of the Prince of New Callistus." Chancellor Marin's message, summarized, was as follows: Prepare to receive unto yourselves the exalted personage of Justicar Karnath Kal'Dregan. He will arrive shortly. If you are so ignorant as to not know him on sight, then you might recognize him by the sword he wears. It is a Spatha, forged of Damascene Steel.'

Karnath smelled something decidedly fishy about this city, and it might not be a bad idea to investigate...

(Quick Note: If one of the other knowledgable individuals wants to give a quick descie of what a Justicar is in the OOC thread, I'd be much obliged. If not, I'll slap one up in the morning. -Rev)

Virgil stepped out before the pack. He smiled, no actual emotion showing, smelling instantly that they were lychan. He stepped towards them, knowing they were all heavily armed. He made no hostile movements, not wanting to get into a fight with his own kind.

"Lovely night, isn't it?" The sarcasm in his voice was obvious.

OOC: A justicar is a low gen vamp who pretty much acts as teh judge jury and executioner whenever a coven is being stupid. They are usually the primogen's or elder's right hand man. IC post comming in a few. Revinia, what gen are you? Andrew is 5th gen.

"Lovely night, isn't it?"

Theo stepped forward, hands down and open in a sign of friendship.

"Sir, my name is Theoden Fenrir, and I represent the Kantrawulves. On behalf of our people, I would..."

Skeerracrhhhh...

A pair of strong headlights fell upon the motley crew of Lychans. One of the pack shifted his aim at the car and yelled in an almost panic.

"It's the deathdealers. Open fire."

Before Theo could order them down, 9 semi-automatics opened up in the direction of the WRX...

Thomas had only gotten a block away when he heard a loud screeching behind him. Rasvar amplified it, and as he looked he saw the group he had been following in the light of a pair of headlights. A new person had joined the group; he did not fit in with the group.

He saw the group draw their weapons and thought Damnit! He turned and began to run back, ready for anything.

"OH F***ING CHRIST!" Richard shouted as bullets tore through his car.

Crawling out, bullets snapping behind him he went behind the car and opened the trunk. The quickly grabbed a kevlar vest with trama plate, kevlar helmet, and M16. He grabbed one of the old .30 machine gun boxes marked M16 and quickly pulled out a magizine and slapped it in. Returning fire, the lycans quickly took to cover as they still fired upon him.

Richard reached into his car and quickly retrived his Uzi, G36C, his second M16, FN FNC para, and quickly grabbed the ammo boxes and dumped magizines into a black duffel bag. Running to behind a streetlight, which he quickly shot out Richard went prone and opened fire again.

OOC: Golden, feel free to win or lose against my character quickly as you want. Oh, but try not to kill me yet. It would be a shame to die this early. ;)

IC:

As Thomas saw the man return fire, he cursed. It would not do if the people he was stalking were killed. It would not do at all. He ran quickly, using techniques that Rasvar had taught him. The werewolves had the man distracted with fire.

Rasvar? You getting anything unusual from this guy?

Nope.

So the man was normal? It was hardly normal for one man to take on a whole group of supernatural beings. Of course, if he saved the group of werewolves the trouble, they might view him with less suspicion, even if it was awfully early to be revealing himself. Or they might all run while he had the man distracted. Either way.

He slowed and became quiet as he approached the man from behind. Just sneak up and grab his weapons away he thought.

OOC: As I believe I have stated at -least- twice in the sign-up thread, Karnath is presumed to be fifth generation, but as he's an enigmatic individual, nobody knows. Imitora got some of it right, but not all. A justicar in V:tM terminology is answerable to the inner circle and the inner circle alone. The inner circle being composed of the eldest members of each of the seven clans of the Camarilla.

Anyways, there are seven justicars, one for each clan, and Karnath is one of 'em. Won't say how it happened, just suffice to say that it did.

But the bit about being 'Judge, Jury, and Executioner' was entirely correct.

'n the bit about Andrew being a 5th gen? The Devil? The character you're writing is more suited to...say...ninth gen, not quite an Elder, but much more powerful than the newly-Embraced. A 5th gen Methuselah would have been building their power base for thousands of years, not serving as a front-line soldier in some town in the arse-end of nowhere, if you get my drift.

-ESPECIALLY- when you say that your character is a Ventrue. Now, I could, maybe see, say, a Brujah Elder pulling scourge duties, but a -Ventrue- -Methuselah?- Finally, I doubt an individual only two hundred something years old is gonna be Fifth Gen without some major Diablerie.

But that's just me. 's your character, you write him how you want him.)

IC:

Karnath fingered the hilt of his Spatha as he wandered along streets, still heading in the direction of the local coven. The streets were even more sparsely populated than normal, but this didn't particularly bother the powerful dark-haired man.

Nope, he was too busy getting in the mood to become -very- bothered at a later time. Specifically, when he found the undoubted bit of wrongness that seemed to be bothering him. Something about this town wasn't right, and it had nothing to do with the prevalence of feral werewolves.

He had a hunch that it would become much...much worse.

OOC: People I play with have Justicars at 4th gen in europe, and I based Andrew on a character im using right now who is only 130 years old and looking to be 10th gen. Diableirie is fun, lol. I was thinking you'd be around a 3rd or 4th, not 5-7, so I'll go ahead and drop Andrew to 8th. And I know plenty of RPers who are uber low gen (5 or less), and are still front line types, only becasue they love it so much. After all, do a job you love. Thats the last of my OOC for here, sorry bout dat.

Alexis stepped back one step. She, however, did not put her gun to her side. It was a matter of security on the coven's behalf. She regarded most women vampire as the definition of leeches. She really did not care to be around them, even though she was one. She more so acted like a guy on a lot of issues, ditching the gossip and social life down the drain, unless her duty called to it. She would not grant this woman the same attitude as she did others, for she did not know her yet. Assumptions really do make asses out of people, but they can help you in certain situations, this one applied.

"Well, I will accompany you to our coven's leader. He will then deside your fate." Alexis' voice monotous.

As they walked into the house, they passed Chloe. Alexis hissed and the girl ran the opposite way. She looked out for her fellow Death Dealers and the consistent nagging girls that followed the men.

They stopped infront of Crassus' office. She knew that he knew they were there and she remained silent until otherwise noted.

Richard felt someone grab his shoulder. He swung the butt of the M16 backwards and struck Thomas in the groin. The man's eyes bulged from the unexpected attack. Richard struck him in the stomach and looked back at the lycans. They were still firing, if he didn't move he would get pinned down.

All his weaopns were in his bag, spare for the M16 he had and the Uzi. He didn't notice as he darted across the street, through a hail of gunfire he had left the Uzi behind. He was half-way across the street when he felt something strike his head.

He fell down and the gunfire ceased. Richard's head hurt, but he managed to crawl behind his car for cover. He took off his helmet to find a dent from the round. Thank God I was wearing this.

Going back into the prone prosition he aimed at the lycans and once again opened fire. Richard knew it was a full scale firefight, only that he was outnumbered and outgunned.

OOC: Now, a third gen Justicar? Come now. Third Gen=Antediluvians. Meaning, y'know, clan founders. Thirteen of the buggers, yo. In Canon (meaning, in the book) Justicars would be around sixth gen, most likely. 4th and 5th would be Inner Circle, I believe. And as for Karnath being 3rd or 4th, well, he's not 3rd because his name isn't Ravnos, and he hasn't diablerized any of the four (I think) currently active Antediluvians (Tremere, Don Giovanni, two guys going under aliases.) As I said, he is -presumed- to be 5th, but being as he's enigmatic and all...you never know. Last of the OoC for this line of thought, too.


IC:

(Just a hint: Fifty says Karnath is still walking towards the coven.)

Karnath continued his amiable wandering in the general direction of the coven, with that location as his specific direction. He wasn't taking a least-time path by any means. That would be lacking in...subtlety.

(Guess I won that bet..)

Lujza at this moment displayed patience that was quite uncharacteristic of her. She had followed the rude woman to this office they now stood in front of. Breaking the silence, she asked "What is the name of your clan's leader?"

"Be silent you fool. You will sortly be aware of this."

In pain and on the ground, Thomas blacked out, and Rasvar seized control. Assessing the situation, he came to a conclusion, this was the best spot to make friends on all sides, and it could be done quite easily, if he could pull it off.

Thomas had grabbed the man by the shoulder, by no means an entirely hostile act, but with enough surprise to constitute sneaking. However, he had a plan.

Offer this man escape. Offer to 'kill' him, claim to have helped the werewolves, and get the 'dead' corpse out afterwards, still alive in all actuallity. If it could be pulled off. He'd give it a try.

Rasvar could ignore the pain in this feeble body, something he was still teaching Thomas to do. He snuck up behind the man again, but this time hissed a question to him. "Do you wish to escape? I can try to help."

Of course, the plan hinged on whether escape was what the human wanted. And on the human not viewing him as an enemy enough not to kill him. Ah well, such was the nature of risk.

The doors to Crassus's office opened "enter" said Crassus in a monotone voice. The doors shut behind the two women. Crassus has his back facing them, he was sipping some blood from a wine glass, classicial music played from a hidden speaker system. "Welcome Alexis, your friend is named Lujza, is she not?" He turned around, now facing them, he had a smirk on his face. "You are a Callisdrunian vampire, I can smell the extra sunblock. I am Crassus Marcus, but enough about me. May I ask why you have come here, perhaps a problem with your clan leader, or were you just looking for a change of pace? Either way you were lucky that Alexis found you, some of are other, somewhat less skilled death dealers would of killed you on sight." Crassus then turned to Alexis. "You found some Lycans, I can see it in your eyes." He took another sip of blood.

"My my my," a voice said from behind Alexis and Lujza, "someones a bit antsy." Andrew was standing behind the two women, wearing black jeans and a black shirt, his black and red bike jacket hanging over his shoulder. His twin over the shoulder holsters were visable, both guns sitting nicely in the nylon cradles. He winked, and offered a toothy grin, showing off his fangs.

"You know, my dear Alexis, theres a Justicar comming. You should tell him," he said, nodding towards the door. "Afterwards, I'm gonna go out for a 'bite' to eat. Wanna come?"

OOC: Posted at teh same time as GL. Andrew's comment came before they went into the room. Andrew has a touch of anarch in him, so he tries to stay away from Crasus.

Richard turned to Rasvar his eyes widen as he pushed him out of the way. The M16 barked, sending several 5.56x45mm NATO rounds at a lycan trying to flank him. The lycan just missed having his head blow away by the burst. It quickly moved back to the safty of it's compainions.

"You best get the hell into cover mate. We make a break for it, we're dead. If you wanna help, get some cover. If worst comes to worst, stick you head between your knees and kiss your sweet ass goodbye."

Lujza, who had been pouting from the woman's (whose name she now knew was Alexis) rudeness, felt a bit better at Crassus's more polite manner. "Well, I suppose you could say that I am here for both reasons. There is a major dispute between several of the larger clans in Callisdrun that's starting to turn violent, and in my opinion, my clan picked the wrong side, both ideologically and because the side they chose will lose, and I'm absolutely certain of that. I thought they were being stupid. I told them so. They said that if I didn't want to fight I could leave. Though I personally think the other side is more in the right, I could never fight my own clan, so I left the country and have been looking for a suitable place since. The fact that I had just finished serving a prison sentence was a bit of a factor as well. I eventually ended up here." She shrugged.

OOC: Imitora, much thanks for that. Means a lot to me.

IC:

Karnath's grip tightened on the hilt of his Spatha as he neared the coven. He had suspected, before, that something was amiss. He was now almost certain. Within this coven, He was almost sure that he would find something wrong within those walls.

He hadn't the faintest idea -what- he would find, of course. His intelligence on this place was fuzzy at best, something that he wasn't particularly pleased with...

But, he would make do. He always did. It was why he made such a good Justicar. He was fair, he was curious, he was capable. Those three things were the core of his personality.

Quite so.

"Well then, for now you may stay with us" replied Crassus "now if you will excuse me I must speak to Alexis alone for a few minutes"

"All right, sir. I'll just find a place to sit somewhere." Lujza, still carrying all her stuff, smiled and walked out of the room, shutting the door softly behind her. She then walked around and sat down in the first chair she found.

Andrew, waiting for Alexis, looked at Luzja. He let his eyes trace her, picked out her features, and all but sniffed the air around her. "Someones a high generation. You dont even smell like kindred. Callisdrun, right?" he asked. He shifted his weight, and pushed off the wall, and held out his hand. "Andrew Vincent. Ventrue Death Dealer."

Crassus waited for the door to close, then he turned to Alexis. He suddenly became very serious "The power of the lycans is growing. How they disguist me, such savage creatures" he put down his wine glass. "Next time I want a lycan brought to me alive,"

Rasvar frowned. It seemed that this man wanted to escape, but didn't feel that they had the means. He had to explain his proposal quickly. And under cover. He got down close to the ground and slowly crawled forwards.

"They haven't seen me with you." he hissed. "A little non-lethal blood carefully placed over your heart, a little yelling from you, a gun in my hand pointing at you. They'll be convinced that I snuck here and killed you. I can make myself seem like one of them." Rasvar started synthesizing his psuedo-werewolf smell. "You lie still and motionless, and you can escape after the chaos. What do you think?"

Andrew, waiting for Alexis, looked at Luzja. He let his eyes trace her, picked out her features, and all but sniffed the air around her. "Someones a high generation. You dont even smell like kindred. Callisdrun, right?" he asked. He shifted his weight, and pushed off the wall, and held out his hand. "Andrew Vincent. Ventrue Death Dealer."

Lujza, somewhat surprised by the greeting, said "Yes, I am from Callisdrun. Specifically from around Istengrad (OOC: a city on the comparatively narrow opening in the mountains between Callisdrun and Altar Rang, the Plains of Sorrow, which is constantly disputed, though its been part of Callisdrun for 70 years). The name's Lujza Batory, I am currently unemployed," she said with a smile as she shook Andrew's hand. "What are things like around here?"

"Intresting," he replied. He had been born in the United States, but life in England had given him a slight accent. "We have the Lychan problem, and its starting to pick up by now. But I'm sure were handling it well," he lied. A justicar was comming, so something was wrong.

He looked at the door. "Shes going to be in there for a while, and I'm not in the mood to wait. Most of the Brits have nasty blood anyways" he said, sitting in a plush chair. He snapped his fingers, and soon a waiter appeared, and handed him a list. He looked it over, and pointed to a selection.

"Ah yes, 1904 American Senator. Very good choice sir," he nodded. "Would the lady like to pick from the list? We have over one hundred bottles of blood from across the world, with tastes to fit all pallates?" He offered her the list.

Lujza put her finger down randomly on the list. "I don't know, I thought the Helvetefroskers' tasted pretty bad." Chuckling a bit, she said, rather randomly, "Isn't it strange, I am a freak among vampires." Callisdrunian vampires were different... outwardly very similar to their foreign brethren but actually very distinct. Looking around, she realized she was going to need to get some fancier clothes.

OOC: Callisdrun, BTW is a completely fictional nation, so it kinda doesn't really have any interactions with RL nations like the US... just so you know.

"This is what I think."

Richard smacked Rasvar in the forehead with the butt of his rifle, knocking the man over. One crazy punk you are. Hell with it, get the hell outa dodge, and come back and hit those guys later. Richard climbed back into his car and began to gun the engine. Bullet continued to rip through the air. The engine had ben renforced but, he didn't know if it would start.

The engine sputtered. He twisted the key and kept hearing the engine trying, wanting to turn over but unable to. The engine finally turned over and Richard mashed down on the gas. The tires squealed as he ripped towards another street, but that meant heading towards the lycans.

He held the wheel in his left and shifted and fired his pistol with his right. Just as he turned the corner a bullet tore into the flesh of his arm. Thankfully no bones where hit. The car swerved madly as Richard tried to recover from the wound. Blood flowed down his arm as he wrapped a small cloth around it.

Gotta find a place to pull over.

This human urban environment disgusted Seviraloth Elardowen (whom has perhaps the longest Orcish name in history). It was alien to him. Everything was stacked to the skies because there was no room to breathe. It was claustrophic, isolationist, and manifested from mankind's greed for power. Seviraloth hated everything about it. It was gaudy, ostentatious, and exhuberant in its commercialism and sloth. These were creatures that had lost all honor for the life given to them. They locked themselves in their concrete prison, happily even, and were fearful to ever break through the gates and see the world. This was their environment. It was on their turf.

In the end, it wouldn't make any difference.

The Orcish Knight would have to stay from the main roads, inked in black, as he would surely be killed on sight. These humans were aggressive and dangerous creatures, and not to be taken lightly en masse. So Seviraloth trudged through the alleyway betwix two buildings. His boot splashed into a puddle, and steam rose from a nearby sewer vent. A flickering light illuminated and cast shadow in quick repetition against his face as it hung above a backway entrance into a closed stereo repair shop. He was surrounded by Brick, and he noticed two haggard looking men sifting through the refuse of the two structures. They paid him no heed until he called them out.

"Humans!"

The two homeless men rose from the garbage can and looked at the creature. They didn't really seem to apprehend that it was inhuman, perhaps due to mental instability or intoxication. "This here is our dumpster friend. Find your own!" The first one yelled, dressed in a long brown coat with a brown sweater and broken and torn denim pants. He wore a toboggin hat and had a craggly beard. The other was shorter and becoming bald, wearing similiar hobo-esque clothes.

"This is your land? Then you shall defend it!" Seviraloth Commanded. He didn't see how such disgusting creatures could own this place, but every outwar needed its beginning. If Seviraloth were to have a base of command, he needed to take it form someone. This Alleyway was enclosed, and only one way could lead into it. The two buildings were somewhat high in structure, and a single sewer entrance in a closed manhole would be excellant escape.

"Hey man, this dude is wasted more 'n you," the smaller of the two said.

Seviraloth rushed towards them, leaping into the air, grabbing onto the fire esape on the building to his right. Using it as leverage, he jumped from it down between the two men, flipping in the air once before landing in a crouched position. He twirled himself, extending one leg to bring down the taller of the two: the defiance one. THe man dropped, his reflexes much too slow to ever be of any defensive chance.

Seviraloth stood, and the shorter proclaimed, "Dude, what the hell didja do that for?" looking down as his buddy as he tried to roll to get himself up. Seviraloth paid the man no attention as his hand thrust forward, gripping the shorter man's skull, and bashed it into the garbage can. . . twice, before laying his chin inside it and slamming the door down. The human twitched like a stuck pig. It was hilarious.

The Orc looked down at the other human as he attempted to crawl away. He had come to his senses now, and Seviraloth only sensed fear. "Your land is mine now. You have no honor. You are weak," the Orc told the man, whom only shuddered in fear and tried to talk, but silence erupted from his dry mouth. Seviraloth slid the gauntlet onto his right hand, and extended the 4 foot long serrated curved skell blade, and slowly approached the man. It was over before it began, and not even a scream was heard.

To Imitora's post:

Alexis flipped her hair out of her eyes, nodging Lujza towards the door. "You know this will take me some time, besides I have no time for "fun". I shall catch something to eat on my way, like I always do. Besides it is more "thrilling", her voice dripping with sarcasm, "when I am by myself." The doors opened and she pushed Lujza in.

Alexis turned around and said, "I will get ahold of you later. We will have much to discuss."

To Griffon Lord's post:

With that the closing of the door sounded infinite closure to Alexis's other side. Now, she was the ambassador and the one to follow the rules, which she hated so much. Ambivalence worked into her life way too much. Two sides that often conflicted with each other. I need to ditch this duty, but it is a duty I cannot. She remained silent. She let Crassus finish. She knew the woman was hostile to her and she could understand why. I do not make friends with people and there is a reason for that. Andrew was the only one she could actually consider a friend, even though they were mere opposite in personality. She was the quiet thinker and then actor. He was the outspoken rash actor. This was probably yet another reason she was the ambassador for their house.

Her thoughts drifted a bit to the lychans. She agreed with Crassus; they were disgusting creatures and they needed to be taken care of. She, although, was surprised that he would want to take part in the interrogation process though. She often wondered about his intentions. Finally, she spoke. Her words clear and long and to the point.

"I agree Crassus, our plans were to get a higher order lychan and interrogate them. We will include you in this process. I will inform the others of your decision."

She paused. She wasn't quite sure how he would take a justicar coming. She wasn't even sure on how she felt about the idea. She herself was acouple generations away from one and was almost considered one in their coven.

A rush of air escaped through her pursed lips, breaking the silence. "I must inform you. Although, you probably already know. I sense a justicar is in the vacinity of our territory. I know nothing more than that, a sensation. Besides the dealth dealers role in "puppy control", I will set apart time to search this one out. Hopefully, before this one arrives here."

She bowed her head slightly. Several strands of hair falling into her eyes; she, however, did not blink. She turned around and existed the room.

She came out to find Andrew entertaining Lujza. She did not acknowledge the girl, but nodded to Andrew. A slight smirk could be seen in her eyes. She raised one eyebrow, her indication to him that they needed to talk and quickly.

She went to the ammunition room and gathered the neccessary materials. Two guns and a long slim silver metallic knife encased in oak wooden sheath. A weapon for both vampire and lychan.

She left the trench coat off, the brisk air would sent off her adrenalin at a higher speed than normally clothed with the coat. She was excited for the search. Meeting a justicar would definitely be a thrilling experience for her.

She messenged Andrew through thier wired system. "We have a new project. Capture the puppy and play time. Plus, we will be the welcoming team, or I, for the justicar. Meet me at the gate in five, we walk. If you are not there I go alone."

OOC: Imorita, if you want Andrew to stay with Lujza that is fine. Go with that avenue then. If not then follow the last paragraph. Callisdrun, you can have Lujza interact with Andrew or other vampires in the house. Please, do not have her follow my character if they leave. As for those who are werewolves we could have a "fight" and just morbities and a capture of one werewolf for development of plot. As for High Orc, I am not sure, maybe you could have a run in with my character. ATTENTION Revenia, your character and mine should have a meeting of the sort before he finds the coven house. If it goes this way that would be great, if not that is okay too.

Andrew nodded as Alexis walked by. He placed down his glass of blood, then stood, grabbing the motorcycle jacket and helmet from beside him. He stretched out, and then turned to Luzja. "Sorry, but I gotta role. Death Dealer jobs and what not. Feel free to walk around, I'll talk to ya later," he said, walking off.

Two minutes later, he was down in the garrage. He kick started the motorcycle, a black Suzuki GSX-R1000, and slid the helmet on. He really didn't need it, he could survive just about any crash, but it helped the facade that he was human. He gunned it out of the garrage, and swung it towards the front gate. He pulled up next to Alexis, and adjusted himself in his seat. "Lead the way, mon capitain."

As the WRX dissapeared around the corner, the Lychans came out of their hiding spots and warily put away their weapons.

"I... I think I got him sir. As he was driving away."

Theo had not moved from his spot, and amazingly, had not been hit by any of the flying bullets.

He only moved now towards the Lychan who spoke. He looked down at the smaller being, and punched him in the jaw. A distinct crack could be heard across the street.

"You're a FOOL, Gerik. You FOOLS! He was just a human. He is not, REPEAT NOT, our enemy. Forget about him."

"Let's get home. I have to prepare for our meeting with our Lychan associate tomorrow."

Theo growled, and then nodded at his men. The dissappeared into the shadows, not taking notice of rasvar.

OOC: (Seviraloth should be thought of as a rogue party. He's not a third party in the fued (That would be hunters) that are against both teams. He could actually be convinced to join a side. He's currently a wild card in the midsts of things. I can't help but reprimand myself into writing him a bit too much like a Yautja.)

IC: The Orc lifted both corpses and tossed them into the garbage can before smacking his hands together in a cleaning motion. The alleyway was his now. It was the foothold of the Clans. He had claimed it for his people. However, it troubled him that these two humans weren't much for the fight, and had yet to sate his thirst for combat. Even though the puddles of water had turned red from the blood of the beggars, something he hadn't bothered to really clean up, honestly, he felt that he needed more of a challenge.

Seviraloth Elardowen began scaling the building through the fire escape. He would need to survey his surroundings to find a prime ground. The stairs stretched and ached to support the nearly quarter-ton being (with his equipment). It took nearly 15 minutes to scale the 23 stories of the apartment complex. The Orc reached and pulled himself up to the root, and walked along the edge as smoke billowed out from the boilers in the basement of the complex.

Seviraloth approached the Northern end of the roof, kneeling down on the cliff downwards. A fall such as that would kill even him, but fear was something he was bred to be immune to. He gazed at the city, and for once he was with a certain sense of awe as the lights of Urbania dazzled him. It was slightly inspiring, and the hate melted away to supreme enlightenment. It was if the stars had fallen to the earth, for there were none in the sky. He hadn't realized that all the lights made it too bright to actually see the stars, for if he had, then he would take the responsibility of causing a power outage. Starlight was much more impressive than anything man could create, and to walk along the Great Grasslands of Arda and look into the Heavens was truly an awesome sight. Most of the Pleiades could even be seen.

The tall, pointed ears of the High Orc twitched as a Siren could be heard. He turned, sprinting to the direction as far as the roof could take him to see from where it eminated. He noticed flashing blue and red lights on some type of metal automaton. This, Seviraloth had learned, was known as an 'automobile,' and was used for transportation without animals. However, its use caused major pollution that destroyed the atmosphere of the planet, caused cancer when inhaled, and contributed to the skies' vengence in raining acid upon the world. Was it really worth that?

This must be some kind of authoritarian humans, Seviraloth surmised. (NOTE: This is in response to the police patrol car made on page 2) Seviraloth grinned widely, his jutted jowls exposing his extremely sharp teeth, almost canine. The Orc lept down, off the roof, using the outer sides of the fire escape platforms as stopping points. They bent and creaked with the force of each fall. As Seviraloth reached an appropriate distance, he bent down and leapt across the alleway to the top of the stereo retailing store, and began running along the top in the direction of the police car. This would indeed be a challenge.

The car was much faster than Seviraloth, but he was trained in tracking, and could easily hear the siren over the quieter sounds of the city so late. The Orc leaped from roof-to-roof, going along the road, easily making the near 10 foot length jumps across alleys at full speed. When he met an intersection, the car turned towards his direction, and Seviraloth snorted out as he flung himself off the building and on top of the police car, the incredible weight crushing down onto the cab. The two officers immediately panicked, breaked as the cab slammed down onto them, and turned sharply. Seviraloth grabbed onto the sides with his hands to keep himself from being launched off. Hearing the screams of the two men certainly excited him.

When the vehicle finally stopped, Seviraloth kneeled up, and with his Skell Gauntlets still on, extended the blades and began impaling them through the cab in the car. The terrified yelps of the two officers was almost orgasmic as he blindly stabbed down into the cab. The sharpened blades pierced through shoulder, leg, arm, and skull of the two officers, and when their cries stopped, so did Seviraloth, and he hopped off, retracting his bloody blades, pieces of brain falling from them. He tilted his head to the side, looking at the corpses as his heart rate slowed down from the adrenaline rush. The lights were still flashing, and the car had skidded into the middle of the road, but the siren had died down.

Seviraloth trotted around the thing once to get a good look at the 'automobile.' He kicked one of its tires, and the trunk popped open. Curious, he looked inside to see quite the armory of firearms, including a Police Smith & Wesson 12 Gauge Shotgun, along with grenades and a tear gas launcher. These were pitiful weapons, and the Orc discarded them as such. For fun, Seviraloth pulled a string around the locking mechanism of the trunk, and slid it through the pins of the grenades. He tapered the grenades down, and shut the trunk, pulling the string out, and fixing it to the bumper. THe next person to open the trunk would be mighty surprised. He turned around, and walked away from the vehicle. This was just too simple.

Richard sat in his car on a road that lead into town. He figured this was the one spot where he could bandage himself up. With his belt between his teeth he dug a pair of needle nosed pliars into his arm. He let off a choked cry as he dug deeper reaching for the bullet. Finally he tapped something and got the pliars around it and slowly pulled the shell out.

He dropped the pliars wiht the bullet clamped between them on the floor. He bandaged his arm, blood still came out, but not as much as before. He opened his window to get the smell of blood and sweat out of the car.

He lay there for several minutes before he closed his eyes and fell asleep.

OOC: High Orc you are quite graphic.

IC: Alexis almost rolled her eyes. "Andrew, put your toy away, we walk the streets tonight. I want to be a little bit less conspicous."

She figured he would follow, but not be happy about it. "Maybe you should have stayed and drank with the rest and Lujza in the commons room."

I do not like that girl, but when did I ever like girls. She had no friends, but men would more likely be her friends and her companion in another sense. I have no time for either of those relationships. She consumed herself with in both of her duties. One I love, one I hate.

The clank of her boots could be heard throughout the street. Now, where would I be if I was a justicar? They walked further and further into the city, which was a good thing because they stuck out in the outer city boundries. The rich people looked upon these two with obsession and fear. Not a good combination. She laughed internally at them. They were the best fools. They were her favorite. Toys and many for her picking. Yet, with thier nice threads and her trendy black ones it just didn't fit. Like a fly in a spider's web. You get caught in it and you never get out. This was one reason she never let money get to her, this was another reason she isolated herself from people, among other reasons also.

The scenary had changed from the organized, elaborate, tidy conformant houses, to large dust insect riddens brick buildings that appeared to fall over if you would breath on them. The crowd was more favorable to ignoring the two or even trying to cause a rumble. Alexis felt it in the air, her nose tingled wiht the sensation. Every cell in her body felt like it exploded from the thirst. Adrenalin rushed in and her sense multiplied. She had a way to control this, so the hunger would not take over her, but she would project it on her enemies. Now, where are those muts when you want them? She turned closer to the smell and saw the dumpster. She jumped up on it and looked inside. Yes, there would be two bums carelessly dumped in there. Any police would not expect what she did.

She pulled out one gun and slid the knife out of her boot. It remained encased in wood though. She whispered to Andrew. Her eyes stratigically searching the black of the alley.

"A werewolf did not do this."

Suit yourself thought Rasvar, recovering quickly from a pain induced stupor. Hostile man. He made a note not to approach that man again without taking precautions first.

Rasvar cursed as he slunk away from the scene. With pain like this it was going to take several hours to wake Thomas. Meanwhile he would be awkward and clumsy. Controlling this human body was difficult, and he usually left that to Thomas while he did other things, such as listening, or making the body work to the fullest.

Yet he still managed to crawl away from the scene, and when he looked back the first man he had seen was reprimanding a man of lower rank.

So, something other than humans are the enemy.

At an order from the leader, the werewolves disappeard. They had not noticed him. With a heavy stride, like someone unused to walking, Rasvar walked off back towards his appartment. Maybe a bit of comfortable rest and some food would revive Thomas more quickly.

After all, there were preparations.

Karnath hummed as he walked. He didn't much like this city. Nope. Not one bit. It wasn't entirely the feeling of 'wrongness' that he was getting, either. Nor was it the prevalence of urban feral werewolves.

Nope, it was something entirely different. Something he couldn't quite explain...

And he was all alone...

Karnath Kal'Dregan was far from stupid. One did not survive as long as he had, nor did one acquire the station that he held, while being as powerful as he was...(Remember. The appointment of Justicars is a prime point of political squabbling within the Camarilla...) if one were stupid.

So, after he had gauged the situation, he would locate a few choice individuals and name them Archons. (Something along the lines of deputizing them...)

Innndeeeed.

Andrew looked down on the bodies, and shook his head. "None that I've killed he said," noting the irony that anything he killed couldnt kill at all. He had left the bike back at the mansion, but still wore the motorcycle jacket. He needed it to cover up the guns that he wore. He dropped to a knee, and prodded the body of the bum. "Someone new in town?" he asked.

Crassus wondered why a justicar was coming, but for whatever reason it must of been important.

Lujza found her way upstairs after walking around for a bit. She peeked in several doors and finally found a room with a bed in it that appeared to be unoccupied. It looked to have been unoccupied for a long time, considering its appearence. She threw her stuff on the bed, except for her axe, which, like most Callisdrunians, she almost always carried. She hung up her trench coat, as she would not need it, for this place was warm compared to her frigid homeland.

A mouse scurried across the floor. It could have been a rat, given its size, but it didn't particularly matter what it was. Lujza threw her axe at it, making a satisfying thud. When got closer, she saw that she had not killed it, but only cut off one of the rear legs and its tail. The poor creature was writihing in agony. Lujza picked up her axe and cleaned the blood and mouse guts off it. After watching the mouse's death throes for a while, she went back downstairs and walked around idly.

Golden eyes peered from around the edge of a wall at the Justicar below. David's demonic senses had sensed the intense energy influxes that washed off of the elder vampire, influxes that no other creature in the city could match.

'Well, you've always got me...' The demon whispered into his mind, and answer to an unasked question.

A low hostile growl reverberated through the vampire's throat to drown the voices in his head. His pupils dialated with realization, and he stared down once more to see if the Justicar had noticed him. There was a sudden burst of energy that surged through his form, and he launched himself from the wall of the apartment complex up to the roof. His massive ash wings extended and brought him to a silent stop. David fell flat on the roof, poised like a cat as he felt two new tingles in the back of his mind. The omnipresent demon extended his conciousness to find the two vampire deathdealers.

Both the deathdealers were enraptured with a burst of ticklishness as the demon merged with their minds for an instant.

'They are searching for the Justicar, just as we expected. Shall we continue to watch?' The demon asked, strangely patient.

"Indeed we will. The Justicar may easily prove a more powerful ally than the local coven." The vampire whispered to himself.

Crassus was admiring his sword, the blade was coated with silver, no lycan could survive a blow from his sword. He put his sword back in it's sheath.

ooc: I just felt like posting that.

Richard heard someone tap on the door. He looked up to see a police man standing there. Oh sh*t

"Yes officer?"

"No parking here. Get moving." the cop said, he didn't seem to notice the massive damage.

"Yes sir." Richard put the car into gear and turned back and traveled through town, looking for the group who had fired on him. The engine finally gave out and the car rolled to a stop. Damn.

He climbed out and put on his old SWAT windbreaker. The neighborhood he was in was old and crumbling, but he didn't care. Richard wanted a coffee, unsure of the location of a shop he decided to look for one, and a gas station. Leaving his automatic in the car he went around back and grabbed his spare Uzi out of the trunk, taking off his windbreaker, he slung on the Uzi and put the jacket and his SWAT baseball cap back on. Unless someone looked closely, noneone could see the machine-pistol

He walked for a little while before he noticed a man and a woman looking in a dumpster. He really didn't know why somone would be doing that. Well, each to thier own. He walked towards them.

"Exuse me, but do you know of a gas station or coffee shop nearby?"

Andrew was about to grab his guns, but instead, listend to the man's words in his head. He could tell the speaker was human. He stood, and spun, his jacket flaring. A quick eye would have glimpsed the pistols before the jacket fell down. He eyed the human. "Over that way, about a block," Andrew said, pointing down a street.

A hesitant distant thump came to her ears. She knew Andrew would sortly hear it also. She remained still. An inner smile came and shown in her eyes. An animal knowing they have caught their prey. The footsteps stopped and the male spoke. It was her turn to have fun.

She jumped silently threw the air and landed directly behind the man in the jacket with lettering of SWAT. She almost laughed out loud. Stupid fool. She pressed two fingers into both sides just above his clavical bones. She instantly compressed his nerves and he dropped to his knees. The impulses just wouldn't reach where they needed to go and he could not move. "We don't offer coffee around here. We are served something more thick." Her voice low. The voice had seemed like it was miles away, but her hot breath tickled his ear hair. She licked his neck. She could just taste the salt from his sweat and feel the fear running throw his body now. His adrenalin was almost at peak. She noticed this by his increased respirations, increased heart beat, perspiration, and clammy skin. This was when her pointy canine teeth bite threw his wet layer of skin. She lived for this moment, she waited for this moment.

Adrenalin raced into her now. There was a thin line between adrenalin and whole body shutdown, basically if she would have waited any longer he would have died because his parasympathetic system would not have kicked in and he would have went throw overdrive. This rush was intense and euphoric. She pulled back. She wasn't going to kill him. She would let him wonder why he was in an alley and if he was lucky he wouldn't be killed by a bum. See not all vampires killed. It was his lucky night. She was leaving bait. Whatever was around would sense the power rush and that was her plan. She released the man and he fell over. His head smacking against the ground.

She put her hands on her hips. He would suffer, probably, a slight concussion and that would explain his headache in the morning. As for dehydration that would easily be dismissed. Also, when he would wake up his nerves that she had compressed would be fully functional again. So, he would just have a pounding headache and wonder why he was in an alley. She left him in his spot. She was smart. I won't mess around, don't want to ruin the scene. Although, the police could never tie any of the killings to them.

Gun still in hand, she waited. "Come out and play."

OOC: I had to do this to your character GS. I wasn't going to let him be killed by her. You are lucky, her characteristic would not have refrained from it, but I worked around it to lore High Orc's character or even the justicar or the werewolfes. Sorry it had to be done. A human should not interfere with vamps or lychans.

A number of sensations blew through David, and he shuddered violently for a few seconds. The strongest of these was the utopian scent of spilt blood. The vampire hadn't had a drink in a long while, because the demon had stripped him of that burden, but he still loved a good long drink. David gradually regained control over his senses, and then examined the accompanying rush of energy from the vampire who had done the deed. He could practically smell the adrenalin from his vantage point. She was moderately powerful, and would make a good match for David.

'No match for me.' The demon mumbled disappointedly. 'Not like that demon lord and that one crazy-assed half-n-half angel a few years back.'

The vampire peeked down at the Justicar, who would have sensed the rush as well. The Judge would lead unwittingly, and he would follow in the shadows.

"Or you could do that," Andrew said. He looked down at the body. It would be good dinner. He licked his lips, but knew what Alexis was playing at. He shrugged, and jumped back as well, his athletic frame gliding through the air, and into a shaddow, pulling out the Berettas.

His ears seem to perk up. It was a bloody strange effect, but Auspex was a bloody strange discipline, y'know. He froze in mid-step, pivoted about on that foot, and continued in the new direction.

It wasn't the adrenal spike, or the scent of blood that tipped him off...it was the emotional spike. He cut a beeline towards the point, his grip on the hilt of his Spatha tightening ever so slightly.

He arrived within viewing distance of the point, and closed his eyes for an instant. Moments later, they opened, and he smiled grimly. His approach was not subtle, but it was effective. He merely had to wait...and possibly take a bullet...not that that would bother -him- that much...

Seviraloth headed back to his alley. He had a bead necklace with four human ears pierced through it: trophies from each kill. He had climbed back up to the roof and was traversing back when he noticed that another automobile had stopped near his alleyway. He kneeled down, his hand over his eyes as he peered over. There was a human facing into the alley. But why would he do that? He seemed to be talking. This meant that someone else was there too. This was an invasion, and Seviraloth would need to reprimand the situation harshly.

The Orc headed back, and leapt down to the downed police car. He reached inside to the gear, which had the English HumanSpeak letters P, N, R, D1, D2, D3, and D4. It was set in P. Seviraloth didn't really understand what each of these meant, but felt that this stick was somewhat important to the movement of the vehicle. He pressed down and pulled it down one notch, highlighting N, and the gears loosened. Seviraloth gave it a push, and the vehicle moved, quite easily. The Orc grinned maliciously.

It took a few minutes, but the Knight rolled the vehicle down the dark road. At first it was slow, but Seviraloth gained momentum at a rapid pace, trotting to a full run, pushing the car at nearly 20 miles per hour. His heart rate pulsed, and his breathing became heavy. The vehicle almost pushed itself. 100 yards away from the alley, Seviraloth let go, and kicked the trunk open, sending a vehicular time-bomb over towards the alleyway. The grenades in the trunk would detonate as it impacted with the building and ignite the gas tank, erupting into a huge fireball.

Seviraloth backed away, feeling no need to witness this.

Andrew saw the car comming, and his survival skills kicked in. He forgot about Alexis, he knew she could handle herself. He leapt up and out of the alleyway, over the car, and away from the blast. He saw orc, and pulled his Berettas, landing gently, and pulling out the .40 S&W chambered 93Rs. He clicked over to 3 shot burst, and began firing at the orc.

ooc: this is getting good now

ooc: this is getting good now

OOC: for some people. certainly cool to read, but there's not much "room" in it.

OOC: ATG, I don't mind, but man! ALL HE WANTED WAS SOME COFFEE! Now, you've made him bait!
You had the advantage of surprise, well not next time.

IC:

"Thanks man." Richard said. He was about to head to get a hot cup when he heard the woman. The next thing he knew he felt some licking his neck then, a sharp pain, taken over by a feeling of life being sucked out of him. When Alexis released him and his head hit the pavement, he lay there very dazed, and felt numb all over.

(OOC: Wow, this is one long night... Can't wait till noon the next day...)

Andrew saw the car comming, and his survival skills kicked in. He forgot about Alexis, he knew she could handle herself. He leapt up and out of the alleyway, over the car, and away from the blast. He saw orc, and pulled his Berettas, landing gently, and pulling out the .40 S&W chambered 93Rs. He clicked over to 3 shot burst, and began firing at the orc.

OOC: If he was in the alleyway, he couldn't have *seen* it coming, as Seviraloth was pushing it tangent to the alleyway in the perpendicular street. But I'll play through since I didn't mention that. I just kind of figured that it was an assumption that streets don't go through alleys. Unless Andrew has excellant nightvision, he probably won't be able to 'recognize' the creature as an Orc, only a roughly humanoid creature (easily mistakenable for a werewolf in mid morph). He probably only knows Orcs as Orcs in the TOlkien sense of the term. Palladium Orcs have nothing in common with them on the visible scale. High Orcs have less in common with Palladium Orcs on that same scale. Needless to say, "recognizing it as an Orc" would be nearly impossible unless he's a good friend of Arda. Last time I checked, Arda has no vampires.

Also let me note, you pulled out four weapons *laughs*
After two were already pulled out, I might add.
You're spilling guns everywhere Imitoria!

IC:

Seviraloth tilted his head as the single human leapt over the car. This was interesting. Perhaps this animal had some kind of precognitive sixth sense? He could see it clearly. Then the creature did something Seviraloth didn't quite expect: it brandished its weapons at him. Was it a fight it wanted? Was it really that barbaric or stupid? As he watched those two guns rise, the Orc clenched his fists, his Gauntlets expanding two razor sharp buckler fins on each. Though his hunting instinct told him to leave and save it for another day, his fighter instinct commanded him to finish what he started.

When the Machine Pistols fired, Seviraloth's eyes went wide with battle. He had never heard a gun fired before, but was had been taught that the longer the range, the most likely they were to miss, and when in doubt, swing out. When the loud burst echoed through his ears, the High Orc jumped to his left, his right arm swinging out, the buckler deflecting two of the bullets of the right volley, the others missing in his manuever. They sparked against the metal and flung in tangent, shattering the glass of the nearby building. The immediate response was the police alarm, ringing out loud in the streets.

Like most Knights, he moved very quick for his stature. High Orcs were exceedingly tall, muscular beings whom were assumed to be as slow and dull-witted as their lesser brethren. This allowed the creatures to make easy triumph due to their surprisingly lean atheticism and incredibly prowess when compared to the norm. They focused on their strengths, and increased them with their skill. It was unparallelled in mortality, but that meant little, because if he could have seen his ring, it would be glowing with the essence of the supernatural.

When the second volley fired out, Seviraloth jumped on the backside of a streetlight, avoiding the incoming fire, and being careful not to actually get in the light, and used it as a backspring as he launched himself on the top of the vandalized Bodega. He crouched down out of sight, and reached for his bow, plucking it from his belt. He slid a single arrow from the covered quiver, and aiming the weapon up, launched it into a parabolic trajectory which would land the highly volitile and explosive bolt in the direction of Andrew. The bow didn't let a sound as it was fired, and the arrow was dark, so it couldn't be seen. (Note: They're filled with Greek Fire {Orcs know how to make it. They also can successfully make Trebuchers}, and the tip is an igniter. So it's like firing a napalm arrow.)

He turned around, and moved from the scene. That alarm was like the authoritarian vehicle's alarm. It would probably be like a hive of police very soon.

OOC: Your also going on teh assumption that there is absolutely no one on the streets to see you push the car, no one shouting about, nothing like that. Andrew could have picked up on that. And most vamps do have some sort of precognative sense, or the ability to move at super human speeds in reaction, and for the most part have a perfect bill of health (except for the whole being dead thing). Also, last time I checked, most squad cars dont have grenades, or any explosives for that matter in the trunk. It wouldnt be a good diea if they got rear ended. And considering the number of family members I have in law enforcement, I'm pretty sure of that fact. Also, my last post was written in a drunken stupor, so I wasn't aware at the time I had already pulled my guns. Andrew carries four guns anyways (look in the ooc thread).

IC:

The second magazine empty from each gun, Andrew clicked the release, and the empty mags kicked free of the weapons. Two out, three left for each he mentally counted. He slid the weapons under his jacket, and placed the top portion of a full mag into each mag well. He angled the guns out, and pushed down, reloading the weapons.

He holstered the lighter Berettas in the shoulder holsters, and pulled the twin .45s out from his behind the back holsters. Holding them low, he moved towads the light slowly. His senses on full auto now, he heard the snap of the bow string vibrating in teh air, and looked up. He saw the bolt against the wall in the dark alleyway, and ran towards a wall.

He ran up, jumped, and kicked off the wall, pushing himself up and towards a building across the street. He grabbed onto a fire escape, and litteraly launched himself up it. He hit the top of the roof as the arrow hit the ground, igniting. Bullet dodge number two, he mentally noted. From here, he had an elevated veiw of the alley way, and with the new found light, was able to see the orc's shadow. The orc was running. Andrew chuckled, and reholstered the .45s. He looked down, and started searching for Alexis.

OOC: I think High Orcs meant my car. Since Richard does have a large amount of ammo there, but no grenades. But hey still an explosion.

OOC: Okay, I assume you all to be men, so play nice boys.

IC: Alexis was looking at the man in the SWAT jacket when she heard something rolling towards her. She saw the car, smelled the ammunition, and thought and reacted very quickly. She grabbed the man and jumped up to the top of the building. The explosion caused her and the man to land across the street away. Bits and pieces of metal and glass struck them. She yanked out a piece of metal that was stuck in her left arm. Blood caked the metal and ran down her bare arm. She whipped the metal into the burning car. No need to trace my blood. She left the man lying where he was. Too bad he might be charged with the arsonal. She saw a figure in the shape of a human. She couldn't quite catch what this figure was. She slid along the ground to get a better look.

A werewolf? Anger flowed through her hot blood. She found her gun at her side and aimed it at the figure. Her senses were telling her something else. He just doesn't smell like one and arrows, and his tatic were not ones she were familar with.

Maybe this one was not a wolfie.

Sirens and they were getting closer. She spotted the man get up and run. She didn't see Andrew. She messenged him, "After something, catch up from my trail on the map." The death dealers were quite technically advanced and could trace eachother where they went, just one thing to help them out.

She stepped up and took after the man. He was fast.

She was fast. She watched his every movement, which way his muscles were reacting. She could pick out what he would do with enough time to react herself. He ran past a nearby parked car. She ran up on it and leaped off into the air. The momentum she built up let her be able to land just before him. She raised her gun out. She never intended to us it on him, but he did not know. She just wanted information.

"Stop there. We need to discuss things. I am sure we both can get what we want out of this." Her eyes met his and locked on. She never was intimidated by another, she wouldn't start now.

David glanced at the Justicar's form. It was heading away from him, towards the source of the energy flux. The vampire's form surged fowards in a lunging jump, the demon passively propelling his movements further, and he landed on a rooftop approximately fifty meters away. David skidded slightly as he came in contact with the smooth surface of the roof, and his foot glanced off of a beer bottle. The glass bottle fell to the street below and exploded into a myriad of shards near the Justicar, still glistening with the spilt alchohol. David cursed his sloppiness, and looked behind him out of sheer paranoia. There was a drunk dozing there on a grimy old lawn chair, the obvious owner of the bottle. His stupor had gripped him so firmly he hadn't noticed the vampire's landing, and he probably wouldn't regain his senses until David was long gone.

Something thundered in the distance, with an accompanying fireball that licked the sides of the alley from where it came. The following events played out in rapid succession. Something bounded around the alley evasively for a moment, before bolting across the stepping stones of roofs. Something followed and cut the first figure off, before making a series of threatening gestures.

David concluded one of the two figures had to be a third party in this game, one that was unwelcome to all. He would eradicate this third party, for otherwise the game might go unfairly. The vampire lurched forwards and hit the asphalt below hard before carrying that momentum upwards and disappearing again into the air.

He clinged like a parasite to the side of the building atop which the two figures confronted each other, and from there he could hear them and smell them. One was defintely a vampire, the one female he had sensed before. The heady smell of gunmetal was easy to detect, someone was holding at least one firearm. He smelled another, more exotic metal he couldn't pick out, one attached to the strange creature whom the female must be facing off with.

David pressed himself harder into the wall of the building, and tuned all of his senses towards the happenings just above him.

I'll meet you back at teh house, Andrew messaged back. While he trusted Crasus to deal with a Justicar, he had less fait in everyone else. He lept from roof top to roof top, till he landed in one of the more unsavioury parts of town. He walked past some bums, and towards a new looking BMW 330ic. He arrived at teh car, and reached into the wheel well, pulling out the key. He it the 'unlock' key, and slid into the driver's seat, speeding off towards the mansion. He hadn't survived this long with out back up plans.

He arrived at the house, and hurried to his room. He quickly shed his hunting outfit, the black shirt, jeans, boots, and crimson and black motorcycle, and the four holsters. He then dressed more conservatively, a blood red shirt with black suit jacket and pants. Black polished shoes topped off the outfit, and a black tie completed the ensembale. He quickly combed his hair, and brushed his teeth to remove any blood stains. He then entered the main foyer of the mansion, and waited.

Lujza decided to go out and see what the nightlife was like in this strange city, as she was getting extremely bored just sitting around the house. She did not take her coat, as it was warm enough here without it. On her way to the door, she encountered Andrew in the foyer. "Hello," she said politely.

Andrew nodded politely in return. He looked her up and down, noting that she was dressed to go out. "Where are we off to?" he asked.

"Downtown I suppose. Unless this city is too lame to have a downtown, of course. I might do a little 'hunting.' We're not allowed to in Callisdrun, so I haven't been since I was last in Altar Rang. Care to come with? Or are you meeting Alexis or something?" She paused before going through the door. "By the way, do you know why she acts like such a hardass?"

OOC: Going to advance the story to the next noon at Grancisco Mansion. I am counting on the story going the way some of us had requested, and having Avant waiting for us in the mansion. Rasvar, feel free to infiltrate.

IC:

Theo looked out the passenger-side window as the midday sun shone down upon the two-car motercade powered down the highway toward Grancisco Mansion, on the outskirts of town. The black Chevy Impalas moved in neat unison, passing the other cars with ease.

"Sir, if I may, why are we going out to this... this mansion just to meet one Lychan. Isn't this a waste of time."

Theo looked at the rear view mirror at Pauline, a prim, proper woman, who did not act very womanly on the battlefield.

"I know, I know. To you all this may seem pointless, but this man is an ancient. He could teach us things you probably never even dreamed of, and if he knows more of his age, it could help us turn the tide in this battle."

Pauline sat silent for a moment, and then responded.

"But... but he called you a pup..."

Theo did not look at her, choosing to instead look out the window. They pulled into a large driveway and stopped the cars. As the 10-strong group exited the cars and looked around, Theo looked back and responded.

"The way this war is going, it'll be the pups doing the fighting soon enough. Alright everyone, scout the area. I want this area secure before we go and talk to this man."

In an instant, the group dispersed, all around the grounds.

OOC: right on! Now stop me if I'm wrong, but I'm going to try to interpret your plan. You want to start this part of the story, but there's still a bit of the last part unfinished, so people are going to finish up their parts there, and then join in to this part (namely the parts where Andrew and Lujza are and the part where Alexis and that Orc are).

Anyhow, I'm going to assume that Avant has not yet been captured, that you are just arriving at the mansion, and that Avant is going to get captured very soon. Once again, stop me if I'm wrong.

IC:

Thomas had arrived five hours earlier wearing clothes like he had seen on the werewolves the day before and hiding a semi-automatic under his coat. He didn't really know how to use it properly, but the werewolves used them, so he had to keep up appearances.

Given the choice though he would just rather not be a target of aggresion(and hence bullets).

He had cautiously hidden five hidden cameras around the mansion, then hid his pack so as to look more like one of the werewolves. He still carried a small camera for quick placement, and he would hopefully be able to hide it inside the mansion, if they ever got that far.

I should warn you said Rasvar that the smell I make is not perfectly like that of a werewolf. Close inspection of the smell may reveal that you are not what you appear.

Close inspection of ME will reveal that I'm not a member of their group. They're more likely to detect me on sight at this point.

Just don't attract attention to yourself thought Rasvar.

Thomas nodded. He had to be careful.

Then a group of cars pulled up into the driveway. At an order from the leader, the group dispersed, obviously securing the grounds. Thomas smiled, a perfect opportunity.

Finding a place not yet secured by the werewolves, he slipped into their formation. When the werewolves finally looked there, all they saw was one of their number already in place, and continued on, just as he did. He was now inside the formation, and all he had to do was remain inconspicuous.

And of course he had to hope that the werewolves didn't take the time to count their numbers. Eleven people just didn't fit into a group of ten.

Seviraloth dropped himself down into a one way street between two buildings. Trash littered the black top, and the rain gave it a silvery shine from the lamps. He slowly stood up, able to hear the calm snoring of a homeless man sleeping under a pile of cardboard. He turned around, checking the dark corridor, his passive natural nightvision easily filtering through the darkest of shadows with ease. Seviraloth buckled his Bow back onto his belt, and retracted his Skell Fins.

As Seviraloth slid the gauntlets off to holster them on his belt, he could still hear the Alarm from the Bodega. The sound of multiple sirens were coming from the East, or at least he thought it was the East. He couldn't tell direction very well without a clear view of the sky. This was a problem unforeseeable to his people. It would be fixed, of course, at the next issue. He had already more than enough data, including the usefulness of Skell Defenses against firearms, effective manuevers versus firearms, and keen facts about the techno-carriages.

As Seviraloth hooked the gauntlets, he noticed an eerie blue light slowly fade away from the ring. Could it be that he was up against something more than human? He thought the evasion of his tactic was quite off for some human to accomplish. They weren't the brightest of creatures. Innovative? Yes. Intelligent? Of course not. He's never seen one able to have such agility before. Maybe there was something he was missing here. Maybe he wasn't the only hunter. There was a piece of this puzzle that wasn't in the box.

The High Orc's heart rate had gone down noticable, and he was once again at a calm state of rest. He had used one of his arrows in the encounter, and in retrospect, decided it was an incredibly foolish decision to do so. Those were in limited quality, and he had to make sure that in future occassions, his bow be used sparingly, or at least when sure that the shot should count, and to make sure it counted for his own score when taken. He had only 29 more incendiary arrows, and was without fletching tools to create normal ones. He hadn't even seen a tree once since he arrived, so even if he had the tools, he would be without the natural resource of wood and metal to use them. What was the point? This was a desert, and mankind was the sand. Nothing would grow around them.

Seviraloth was getting hungry. It had been several hours since he had eaten. Not once when arriving here. He glanced at the sleeping man, thinking curiously about slitting his throat, ripping off his lower leg, and eating his calf muscle raw. Then again, the human was filthier than some Dorns he had ridden, and had little clue about human diseases and virii that could infect him, albeit somewhat harmlessly due to the superior digestive immune system that his species genetically created due to the massive amount of raw meat their ancestors ate. However, he had lacked the weight to carry provisions with him, so there was little else to do if he didn't want to burst into one of these abodes, causing more panick and notoriety than he wanted right now.

Without much option, Seviraloth slid out the hallow Dagger and approached the man. This was going to be messy. . .

Richard groaned. His eyes slowly opened a he looked at himself. Some of his clothes were cut by metal and had a thin layer of his blood. What happened?

He still lay on the roof where Alexis had left him, trying to figure out what happened. Car stopped, asked guy for directions to a car repair, what happened next? Someone lick my neck, or bite me....I'm just imagining things. Richard twitched his toes and was able to move his arms, to some degree.

His memory would come back when he got full movement again. He felt the heat from the burning car. What is that?

Richard pulled out the Uzi and set it on his lap. His mouth was very dry, he ran his hand over his forehead and felt the sweat. Wiping a small rag down his neck, he didn't feel the two bumps from the healing bite mark.

God I'm thirsty.

OOC: Considering vamps are noy to active at noon, I'm staying at the point where Andew is with Luzja. By the way, how do you pronounce that?

IC:

Andrew looked down at his watch. It was 3:00am, and sun up was in just four hours. If the justicar wasn't there by now, he wouldn't be till tommorow night, which would be more logical. After all, that would give the Justicar another 12 or so hours to scare the sh*t out of Crasus, which is what Justicars did best. "Sure, there are some decent hunting grounds around here. I'll drive," he said.

He led her to the garrage, and looked at the motorcycle. Then he looked over at his red 330ic. "Two wheels or four?"

Avant Crusade sat quietly in the foyer of his grandiose mansion, his eyes closed, as he contemplated the possible consequences of this new turn in the eternal feud between the bat and the wolf, a conflict that had continued for centuries without end. This new conflict is but a sideshow of this age old conflict between our species, a conflict without end... For more than one hundred years, the situation has achieved an uneasy truce... A truce that these youngsters, pups are breaking with this offensive... The destruction of this uneasy truce will only bring about the downfall of our species... This age long coexistence must last for tranquility and peace to allow us to exist... With a heavy sigh, Avant stood, his sensitive nose sniffing intently. The bastards have finally come... With a snort of digust, Avant walked to the main entrance of his mansion and opened the door, peering out intently. His keen eyes and nose, quickly picked out the presence of several lychans, pinpointing their exact positions. With a cold sigh, Avant stepped out. In a voice filled with annoyance, Avant said, "Come out you young pups... Stop sauntering around my property and get the hell in here..."

Leaving the door open, Avant turned and strode back into his mansion, his eyes closed, as he slowly massaged his head. A headache was brewing. With a forlorn sigh, Avant gazed serenely at the portrait of his beloved and sighed once more. Let me hope beyond hope that I can alter the mind and will of these impetuous young pups...

OOC: True enough about the vamps and noon-sun thing :P? Guess we will have to RP around that, or the vamps wil have to take him another time. Or... what is a little melanoma among the dead, eh?

IC:

Theo looked around the estate as his hidden men. He smelled the air and breathed in the fresh air that the countryside offered.

There was one spot that seemed a little... raw and rank, but he put it off for some sort of rotting carcass or something of the sort.

"Alright men. I want you out here keeping an eye out for anything suspicious. I will handle this myself."

Theo then turned to head inside the mansion. As he stepped into the large palacial estate, he saw the Elder gazing at a painting of a beautiful woman. She was elegant, refined, and yet the image seemed to catch the spark of vitality from behind her eyes.

"Sir, my name is Theoden Fenrir. I appreciate you taking the time to meeting me."

OOC: Okay, I can't move onward with the story if High Orc doesn't respond to my character. So, you posted, but why no response??????

OOC: Yeah, I was a bit confused by that. Perhaps he slipped away? *shrugs* Anyhow, Valient, Callisdrun... once Andrew and Lujza are done, do you think this might be a good place for Lujza to come into play? A target at noon would be unexpected for a vampire, and might give her the advantage. Just a thought, I realize it's unlikely that Lujza could take on Avant, but who knows? You two can just tell me what you think (or not as the case may be).

IC:

Thomas frowned. It seemed that this was a closed meeting. Oh well... he took up a position with the other men, and hoped they were too busy to notice him. He would get more information later. Perhaps find a way to plant his last camera. He would take oppotunities as they arose.

OOC: no matter to me people :D

Richard moved out of the small gas station and walked down the street. He was only a few blocks from where he once was. He sipped the Pepsi and sighed. That feels great. His jacket was in a bundle in his right arm, his Uzi underneath it all. He didn't know where to go, he decided just to wander around the place till the numbness wore off.

His limbs worked, but they were still a little numb. As he wandered around, he thought of what had happened. He scratched behind his neck and stopped dead in his tracks. He felt two small bumps on his neck. He remembered the sharp pain in his neck, the woman's voice, the strange feeling he had. Richard also remembered being unable to fight back, and the last thing he saw was the man just staring at him, doing nothing.

One thought entered his mind as he rubbed the marks. She must of injected me with something. That guy, both of them must of been working together. He walked on, finishing his soda. He knew if he could find one of them, he could find out what the woman did to him. He grasped a bit of his jacket, pulled back, and let go. Click-Click. The Uzi was ready when he needed it.

OOC: Okay, I can't move onward with the story if High Orc doesn't respond to my character. So, you posted, but why no response??????

OOC: Didn't realize I was being chased after. Most people don't park their cars on rooftops, and Seviraloth almost immediately leapt back up and is using them for concealed transportation. I don't remember posting anything about cars besides launching them at people, so that section of your post rather confused me if it was meant to make me believe that you were trying to chase Seviraloth.

As nothing was ever meantioned in your post about jumping on the roof to chase me, I never began to think that it was me you were trying to get. I assumed it was the one you embraced.

When the second volley fired out, Seviraloth jumped on the backside of a streetlight, avoiding the incoming fire, and being careful not to actually get in the light, and used it as a backspring as he launched himself on the top of the vandalized Bodega. He crouched down out of sight, and reached for his bow, plucking it from his belt.


From this portion of your post, I assumed you were still on ground. No where in your post did it say you were back on top of the buildings. Plus, if my post was confusing, why not just ask me to redirect you? Then to just ignore it? It seems that because we are not perfect in our writing you will not respond to it or you just criticize it. I do not appreciate that especially being this is my story that is just disappointing to me. If you have problems with our grammer or structure I would love to know, so I can learn from my mistakes.

Please, respond so I can move on with the story.

From this portion of your post, I assumed you were still on ground. No where in your post did it say you were back on top of the buildings. Plus, if my post was confusing, why not just ask me to redirect you? Then to just ignore it? It seems that because we are not perfect in our writing you will not respond to it or you just criticize it. I do not appreciate that especially being this is my story that is just disappointing to me. If you have problems with our grammer or structure I would love to know, so I can learn from my mistakes.

Please, respond so I can move on with the story.

OOC: I guess you've never heard the term Bodega. I don't blame you. It's fairly obscure. Only people who live in deep urban inner-city areas even know of it. I just happen to be a fairly good linguist.

bo·de·ga ( P ) Pronunciation Key (b-dg)
n.
A small grocery store, sometimes combined with a wineshop, in certain Hispanic communities.
A warehouse for the storage of wine.

By putting "Vandalized" before it, it was mentioning that it was the same building whose window was shattered by the deflecting bullets. Even if it hadn't been that one, it was still on the Bodega. Does that sound like the name of a car? Well, I guess it could. It's probably be familiar to the El Camino.

Sorry for the confusion.

OOC: EEK! Now I am embarrassed. Sorry. Well, thanks for the new word. YOu are correct I am not familar with it. I come from the capital of North Dakota and we do not have one of those, kind of a small city I guess. So, yeah can you still respond, we can somehow work it to I am on the rooftop I guess.

((Well, from what I understand, both Amanda's char and High Orc's char are on some rooftop, after Amanda's char cut him off. My char is clinging to the wall of the building atop which the other two are standing, attempting to overhear the conversation. So, how about we just disregard High Orc's last IC post as the product of the confusion, and he can make a new post responding to ATG's confrontation?))

Crassus was getting impatient, he didn't like to wait for people, even a Justicar. Crassus left his office in a bad mood, he also wondered why Alexis was taking so long, she should of been back now. Sunrise was soon. Crassus found two death dealers by a water cooler. "Hey, did you see what was on HBO last night?" said one of the death dealers. They bowed as Crassus came up to them "I want you two stationed by the door, a Justicar is coming, have him come to me directly". Crassus walked back to his office, he would go and rest during the day light hours.

OOC: Considering vamps are noy to active at noon, I'm staying at the point where Andew is with Luzja. By the way, how do you pronounce that?

IC:

Andrew looked down at his watch. It was 3:00am, and sun up was in just four hours. If the justicar wasn't there by now, he wouldn't be till tommorow night, which would be more logical. After all, that would give the Justicar another 12 or so hours to scare the sh*t out of Crasus, which is what Justicars did best. "Sure, there are some decent hunting grounds around here. I'll drive," he said.

He led her to the garrage, and looked at the motorcycle. Then he looked over at his red 330ic. "Two wheels or four?"

OOC: Emphasis on the first syllable, and you kinda stick the j and z together to make one sound. At least as far as I know... it's a Hungarian name. The Callisdrunian language is a mixture of old Norsk and Hungarian (yes I know the two have no relation, it was intended that way) because I like the sound of those languages.

IC:
"Two," She said as she followed him to the vehicles. "More fun, in my opinion, and also easier to park." She became suddenly aware of the time restrictions that her foreign kindred faced when Andrew looked at his watch. Though she could survive the sun, she knew he had to be in before sun rise. It wouldn't take too long, though. He said the places were nearby, so they'd be there quickly.

Andrew nodded, and tossed Lujza an extra helmet. He straddled the bike, and kicked started it to life. The one litter engine hummed, then screamed, to life, then quieted. He turned the bike around, and patted the seat behind him. "Hop on."

Lujza put on the helmet and practically jumped onto the bike behind Andrew. She held on to his waist with an iron grip that did not seem to match her slender appearence. "Let's go," she said simply.

OOC: It actually hasn't progressed THAT far... so I will join in after all. This is an introductory bit about Pavel... he'll fly to your city soon enough.

Two hours outside of Moscow

The crosshairs wavered about the werewolf’s head. Pavel waited, patently. He had been balanced on this barn’s gutter for three hours, as long as he moved by sunup it made no difference. Vampires don’t suffer from muscle fatigue.

*click-click*

Finally. The double click meant the perimeter team was in position. Pavel waited for the crosshairs to line up perfectly. It didn’t take long… vampires don’t breath and their hearts don’t beat, making accurate sniping rediculously easy... if you had the skills when you were alive. He had. He squeezed the trigger gently.

Too fast for a human eye to see, the 12.5mm bullet snapped out across 500m of wheat. The silverjacketed bullet didn’t snap back the beast’s head like it does in the movies. The hydrostatic shock shattered its skull, spraying the contents (god knows what… it couldn’t have been brains, the stupid wolves. Who only uses one guard?) over the wall of the house. As soon as the guard went down, Pavel whispered “Adno” into his radio. Vampires appeared from the shadows. Some carried katanas and claymores, but most carried AK-74 carbines. They took up positions alongside the doors and windows of the farmhouse.

“Dva,” he hissed as he jumped off the barn and stalked towards the building. The vampires triggered the grenade launchers slung under their rifles. The 40mm projectiles were lobbed gracefully through the windows of the farm house, but no loud explosions followed. Explosive grenades would destroy all the evidence that might be stored inside and would probably only irritate any lycan not in the imidiate blast radius. No, these were something far subtler; tear gas. Wailing howls of agony echoed from inside the house as the werewolves’s sensitive noses and eyes began to burn.

He picked up an MP-5/10 from a waiting vampire and cocked it. “Tri.” The vampires began firing short burst with their weapons into the windows. Suppressing fire. A burst of return fire opened up from an upper story window, but Sonya’s long answering burst from a concealed machine gun drove the whelp back.

At the number “Chetiri,” three vampires went to the back door. One with a rifle stood in front of the door, one behind him, and one to the right with a beautiful katana. The first one kicked the door and rolled to the side. The door exploded and a howling Lycan came charging out. His eyes were bloodshot and nose was running, but he didn’t even grunt as a burst of three 5.56mm silvered holowpoints slammed into his chest. The katana flashing down ended the confrontation. The wolves were predictable. Pavel strode over the body into the house, submachine gun up at his cheek.

Movement

A lycan, half-transformed but bent double coughing. Pavel walked a short burst of 10mm across the beast and watched as it fell twitching. Perhaps dead, perhaps not. Irrelevant either way.


Movement

A Lycan, still in human form, struggled to bring a long barreled hunting rifle to bear. Too slowly; he went down in a spray of blood.

A werewolf writhing on the ground, obviously hit by gunfire from the windows, slashed at Pavel with his claws. Moving supernaturally quickly, Pavel stomped on the werewolf’s fingers with his steel toed boot and put three bullets in her head, shattering her jaw and splitting the skull.

A doorway. Pavel pulled a can of pepperspray off his belt, and stepped into the room, prepared for an ambush. Sure enough, a Lycan dropped off the ceiling onto him, planning on pinning him down and ripping his face off with her fangs. Pavel sprayed her in the face with the pepperspray, then buttstroked her as she fell back into a counter in pain and shock. A well-placed kick crushed her trachea, and two more pulped her head.

Suddenly, he felt a hammer blow to his shoulder blade and saw a bullet fly out of his chest. One of the idiots outside must have mistaken him for a wolf. The wound was inconsequential, but it had knocked him off balance, and he stumbled against a wall. A mistake; the wall was suddenly ripped asunder by two enraged werewolves on the other side. One took a swipe at Pavel. He intercepted the blow with a hard left block, but the shear impact knocked him flying. He hit the ground hard, and raised the MP5 one handed, spraying the larger of the two with bullets. The wolf went down screaming in agony as the submachine gun chewed through his thighs and abdomen, but the last two rounds were tracers… he was out of ammo and the second one was almost on him! Urgently, he pulled out his secondary weapon, a sawed off shotgun. The second Lycan was so close that the silver pellets didn’t have time to spread properly, but it didn’t matter. The first barrel turned the monster’s stomach into a red mass. The second erased his face.

Pavel paused for a moment, to reload his shotgun and to change magazines in his MP5, but the battle was all but over. Other vampires had managed to clear the upper floor and basement while he dealt with the main floor. A younger vampire, Ivan Olshanski came up and saluted.

“Don’t salute in a warzone boy, you’ll get the officers killed. You don’t think the sabakai use snipers too?”

The younger one would have blanched if he could have. “My apologies, Kapitan.”

“That’s fine. How’s the butcher’s bill?”

Ivan took out a small notepad. “Vitaly and Jersy were both badly injured and have entered topor. Many others have small injuries, but nothing serious… Oh, we did lose a new fellow… hoodlum they picked off the street last month who came along to see what it was like. Had a bit of a Rambo complex unfortunately.”

Sigh. “Standing up and firing from the hip doesn't even work on humans. It's suicidal against the dogs. No chance of reviving him? Not that it sounds like a good use of time anyway.”

“Not likely. I don't think we could get him back even if we wanted to. The dogs ate most of him. The important bits, anyway.”

“Pity. And on their side?”

Ivan began ticking off points in his book. “ We killed ten, and captured two more… but neither will live long. One of the deaders ripped out his own throat rather than be taken alive. That large fellow who’s knees you blew out.”

“Well… if they won’t last long, we’d better see if we can get the location of their main den off them. Get the interrogation instruments from the truck. If they don’t tell us anything in an hour, we’ll torch the place and leave. Can’t afford to stay here during the day; too dangerous and the prince will have our heads if we don't report in promptly”

“Yes sir. Won’t you have your shoulder looked at?”

“This?” Ivan looked at the hole in his own chest. “It’s not that serious. I’ll have something to drink, then heal it up.” And to match actions to words, he knelt down beside one of the warm werewolf corpses, and began to feed.

OOC: True enough about the vamps and noon-sun thing :P? Guess we will have to RP around that, or the vamps wil have to take him another time. Or... what is a little melanoma among the dead, eh?

IC:

Theo looked around the estate as his hidden men. He smelled the air and breathed in the fresh air that the countryside offered.

There was one spot that seemed a little... raw and rank, but he put it off for some sort of rotting carcass or something of the sort.

"Alright men. I want you out here keeping an eye out for anything suspicious. I will handle this myself."

Theo then turned to head inside the mansion. As he stepped into the large palacial estate, he saw the Elder gazing at a painting of a beautiful woman. She was elegant, refined, and yet the image seemed to catch the spark of vitality from behind her eyes.

"Sir, my name is Theoden Fenrir. I appreciate you taking the time to meeting me."
Avant turned slowly revealing the profile of a handsome man, weighed down sorrowfully by the sadness and pain that he had endured. With a wane smile, Avant raised his right hand, his voice ringing perfectly in the foyer. "My name is Avant Crusade, originally of the Royal House of the Five Civilized Nations. I have lived for more than five hundred years attempting to broker an uneasy peace between our species and the killers of darkness... Your activities must stop now. There is no room for any discussion."

Without another word, Avant wheeled around, indicating for Theo to follow him as he moved into his mansion, his long strides swiftly taking him to the living room. Sitting down gracefully at a sofa, Avant scrutinized his guest.

The ride was indeed short, shorter than it should have been. But, when you don't fear death, its easy to drive a motorcycle at 150mph sustained. The scene was a parking lot outside a night club. It was still pumping hard, but people were leaving and going. He saw the target, a young couple walking out of a club, and pointed. He pulled off the helmet, and placed it over the handle bar of the bike, and slid off. He began walking towards them in an agressive stride.

The man looked at him, and feeling rather cocky, began walking towards Andrew. He balled up his hands into fists, and as he began a charge, Andrew simply side stepped, and gave the man a side arm, throwing him about 5 yards away. He set his focus on the girl, who began to run...right into an alley.

He picked up his pace, and was quickly on top of her. She tripped, and he picked her up, pinning her against the wall. He looked into her eyes, his deep blue eyes almost calming her. He licked hsi fangs, and hushed her. She quieted. He began kissing her chin, then mouth, then moved to the side of her neck. By now she had totally forgoten her date. She never felt the teeth break her skin.

Andrew fed till he was full, then licked the girls wounds shut. He let go of her, and she dropped to the ground, smiling broadly. "Amazing," she sighed, and all but jumped at Andrew. He stepped aside, dodging her advance.

"If you liked it, be here again tommorow night." He looked over to see how Luzja was fairing.

Lujza did not have the smooth style that Andrew displayed. She practically jumped on the poor man. She did not go for the throat immediately, instead inflicting a horrific bite wound on the man's shoulder. She did this out of habit, as normally Callisdrunian vampires fed from willing donors (OOC: they don't need that much blood to survive, nor are their bites lethal), so generally feeding was done from the shoulder, though not this aggressively. The man started to cry out, so she cupped her hand over his mouth and switched to biting his neck.

She was gluttonous, taking far more of the man's blood than she needed. She was not one for subtlety. A gargled scream started to make its way out of his mouth before he fainted. Lujza, by now almost regretting her self-indulgence stood up, her mouth covered in the warm deep red liquid. What she couldn't lick off, she wiped off with the man's shirt. Walking over to Andrew, she asked "What should I do with this thing?" as she gestured towards her unconcious victim.

"Is there a coffee shop around here?"

Andrew froze. He knew the voice.

"You move anyway I don't like, I'll put a few 9mm slugs into your body."

Richard emerged from behind a trashcan, he didn't see what the pair had done in the alley, but he did spot Andrew under a streetlight for a few seconds, enough time to jog his memory. He quickly hide behind the can and waited till they emerged from the alley. He didn't hear any of the woman's words, nor did he care, he wanted info from Andrew.

Richard's Uzi, it's buttstock folded out, resting in his armpit for stablity was leveled at the man's chest. Richard smiled at him.

"I wonder how long it would be before we found each other. Now, we shall play a game, you do what I want, we both walk away, you don't do what, things will get messy. If you reach for a weapon, I open fire. The same goes for your girlfriend. You read me?"

David was not getting what he wanted from the espionage he was conducting on the strange creature and the female deathdealer atop the building. Something whispered, low and seductive, in the back of his mind.

The vampire launched himself backwards and snapped his grey wings open just before he scraped along the pavement. He dipped down a few milimeters lower than he intended, the result of the alien feel of the twin .50 Raptors that rested to each side of him. A small mistake, but he would not stand for less than perfection, especially for himself. His demon's conciousness stretched out in front of him, and David planned his next move. He fought like a chess player, playing several moves in the future even before the match had started. He watched the younger Callisdrunian vampire fight while he was still speeding towards her. No finesse, no subtley. What a waste of a vampire.

The two hundred kilometers an hour he was averaging gave him about one and a fifths seconds before he reached Luzja. The blade slid out of his left forearm, but he kept the right retracted.

Half a second.

The moon gleamed dully off of the eighteen inches of ancient steel, Infernal runes tracing their sadistic curves along the length of the blade.

Third of a second.

His wings beat fiercely, acclerating his slim figure even further. His right hand moved back in preperation. He could see the next move now...

The hand would shoot forwards as his wings made minor corrections. It would clamp onto the Callisdrunian's skull like an inexorable vice and carry her into the wall a few meters away, raining shattered concrete onto the sidewalk.

David doubted she could dodge in time, from what he had seen so far.

Lujza's eyes bulged for a second. "I am NOT his girlfriend!" she protested loudly, her fangs highly visible. She scowled and put her hands on her hips.

Richard looked at her, he saw the fangs and really didn't know what to make of them. He thought for a while before speaking.

"You're not the b*tch who drugged me. Who are you anyway?" He moved the barrel of the Uzi back to the man. "The woman you were with, what did she inject me with?"

Andrew gave Richard an off look. "What, is that supposed to scare me?" he asked, pointing towards the Uzi. "What if we do it my way? Put away your gun, walk away, and I dont kill you," he said, his fangs visable. He began to walk forward at a slow pace, his jacket bouncing, allowing the two .40 S&W modified Beretta 93Rs to be seen.

Richard sighed. Once again he saw fangs. What the hell is up with that? When the club door's opened he fired a burst, the bullets cutting the ground in front of the vampire. The loud music covered the sound of the machine-pistol, and noone paid any attention to the group.

"The last month and a half have been an aboslute hell for me, the b*tch you were with has made an already bad nigh even worse. Now, if you wish to lose your manlyhood, by all means keep walking. All I wish to know is who the hell you, the b*tch you were with are, what she injected me, and who do you work for. It is very simple, you talk, and we all walk away unharmed."

Crassus grew impatient and gathered a small squad of 4 death dealers. He would get a live Lycan himself, or kill one trying.

ooc: Ok, feels good to get back into the story line again. Also, I might end up running into Seviraloth and Alexis.

OOC: YAWNS...from last night's outting and not getting back into the story. Where is High Orc? Please, just come up with something, even if it means getting away and my character chasing at least it is something, or I will have to disregard my whole post and cyperutopia will have to disregard some of his because he is watching both of us.

Lujza slowly edged behind Andrew. She whispered to him "um, you don't have reason to be scared of this human, but I do. His bullets can harm me. I am weak, and I did not bring my gun."

Richard spotted Lujza whispering to Andrew.

"What are you talking about little girl? Please, speak up, unless you want your boyfriend, laying on the ground with a few slugs in his chest."

Quite scandalized by the effrontery of the human, Lujza again protested. "I told you, I'm not his girlfriend!" After a short pause, she said "I'm not that short, either!"

OOC: YAWNS...from last night's outting and not getting back into the story. Where is High Orc? Please, just come up with something, even if it means getting away and my character chasing at least it is something, or I will have to disregard my whole post and cyperutopia will have to disregard some of his because he is watching both of us.

((Hehe, too late, I already got bored and stopped eavesdropping. I went to attack Luzja, but apparently Callisdrun didn't see my post, despite its length. Or did I do something that offended them?))

OOC: Probably not read, it seems a lot of people are not reading. Oh well, hopefully we will learn from our lessions.

ooc: sometimes I skim through a post and then if later I realize that I need to read it I go back and do so.

((Hehe, too late, I already got bored and stopped eavesdropping. I went to attack Luzja, but apparently Callisdrun didn't see my post, despite its length. Or did I do something that offended them?))

OOC: sorry, until now your posts have been largely concerned with more important characters, so I assumed (yes I know the little phrase that goes with assume) that this post did as well. And it was kind of random, seeing as how the golden simatar's got this thing going on, too. I'll make an attempt to figure it out.

So your plan is to just kill off my character?

"My patience is wearing thin little girl. Tell me, who are you. Now." Richard pulled back the chager handle on the Uzi.

"I don't wish to hurt you, I'm not a violent person. Just tell me who are you, and who do you work for."

OOC: Sorry 'bout the lack of postage. Sudden drastic increase in my workload had me working 5-11 every day for the past three. Which isn't fun. But, enough on that.

IC:
(But first, a quick update on Karn's situation. That is, what has happened with him since my last post: He slipped into a vacant apartment unseen, and has remained there...until....
NOW!)

He slid dextrously out of the apartment's window, his muscular body contorting to prevent sharp glass from cutting into his dead flesh. He dropped the three stories to the alleyway below, landed without missing a step, and wandered out into the street, hands tucked into his pockets.

Karnath padded along the sidewalk, and, though he was 'padding along' in safety-toed Corcoran jump boots, the description was apt. Not entirely due to the silence of his step, but also owing to the motion of that step.

His nostrils flared as he sniffed the air, and as he did so...he smiled. Had anybody other than drugged out junkies and bums seen that smile, they'd have been scared out of their minds, and with good reason.

..and so he continued his wandering, senses probing the night for individuals of interest. Humm...

OOC: sorry, until now your posts have been largely concerned with more important characters, so I assumed (yes I know the little phrase that goes with assume) that this post did as well. And it was kind of random, seeing as how the golden simatar's got this thing going on, too. I'll make an attempt to figure it out.

So your plan is to just kill off my character?

((I never plan to kill characters off this early. No, I merely aim to discourage the deathdealers from hunting the wolfies through the persuasive function of grevious harm. I know it was random, but without High Orcs, I wasn't getting anywhere and I got bored. So, I don't want to be pushy, but it would be nice to eradicate this OOC banter since everything seems to be straightened out and get an IC response.))

OOC: Imitora, check your TGs

Andrew chuckled at the bullets harmlessly hitting the ground. While to one, this might seem death defying, they would also have to realise that it was hard to defy death if you were already dead. He poppped his neck, and took another step forward. He also removed the guns from their holsters, and handed them back to Luzja.

"You werent injected with anything. Maybe you should open your mind...Have you ever thought that maybe something was taken from you?"

"The only thing that was taken from me was my wife and three month old son by a werewol...." Richard shook his head, trying to get the idea of a werewolf out of his head.

"Werewolf?" Lujza said, completing the man's sentence for him. Lujza was not without emotion, and felt sad for the man, who was clearly in way over his head in a world he had been pulled into unwillingly. "We do not care much for what you call werewolves, either." Though she had spoken calmly, an undercurrent of hatred was still noticable when she said the word "werewolf."

OOC: Cyberutopia- I will reply to your guy's actions when this little convo between Lujza, Richard and Andrew is done.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

Richard began getting a funny feeling in his chest there were much more to the pair then meets the eye. There was something different about the pair, something he just couldn't put his finger on. For some reason his heart rate increased slightly and a tiny bead of sweat formed on his forehead.

Suddenly the barrel of a desert eagle was pressing against the back of Richards head. Three other death dealers armed with submachine guns surrounded Richard. Crassus walked out of the shadows smirking "My good man, they work for me. I am Crassus Marcus,"

(Sorry Sorry. It's the week of First Exams. I was doing a thing called studying. I have a heavy academic load this semester, and although I already had this written out, I was too engorged with my work to type it up. I apologize.

(Because of the fact that Seviraloth was already on the roof before Alexis decided to chase after him {she did have a body to take care of}, Seviraloth had quite the head start on her. So I decided that she'd have to play a little catch up.

(This first paragraph is rather graphic...sheer warning:)

Seviraloth tossed the tibia down, spitting out a wad of flesh from his teeth. There were pools of blood surrounding him. He had eaten the left leg clean, and gripped the dead man's right ankle, his other hand holding the thigh. He grunted, and with several popping cracks, the knee split apart and ripped open, the patella spilling out as the torn veins puked a dead ichor. The High Orc Twisted the ankle until the flesh wrinkled and cut apart, the foot sloughing off. Sevialoth used the hanging skin to tie the bottom off so the guts wouldn't fall out. Those were the juicy parts that made the raw flesh into sweet meat. Just before he was able to bite down, a human [Alexis] dropped in on his meal.

Normally, the rogue warrior would have dropped the human drumstick and uttered a vicious warcry, but he resisted for several reasons. First and foremost, she didn't seem to be armed. Secondly, female humans tended to be lithe and brittle, easily feigning the fact that their pain tolerance was considerably higher than any man's. Thirdly, the creature was stupid enough to follow him, so he greatly underestimated its intelligence right now. Finally, his ring was glowing brightly at her presence, so something supernatural was responsible for her being. Seviraloth just kept crouching in the near pitch black corridor. He could smell her scent, and something was off about it.

She attempted to communicate. She seemed to be fluent in the English dialect of HumanSpeak. Seviraloth could understand it, but was severely limited in speaking it. He knew all the dirty words, of course, because those were always the most fun to learn. He just crooked his head, though she probably couldn't make him out, but a silhouette in the absence of light, and didn't reply. He would have to test her convictions.

"Werewolf?" Lujza said, completing the man's sentence for him. Lujza was not without emotion, and felt sad for the man, who was clearly in way over his head in a world he had been pulled into unwillingly. "We do not care much for what you call werewolves, either." Though she had spoken calmly, an undercurrent of hatred was still noticable when she said the word "werewolf."

OOC: Cyberutopia- I will reply to your guy's actions when this little convo between Lujza, Richard and Andrew is done.

((Agreed. Wow, wayyyy too many people in this topic...oh well. Somebody gave us one star! Grrr...ok, attempting to halt OOC randomness now.))

Richard let go of the Uzi with his left hand but kept his right hand tightly gripping the machine-pistol. His finger traced along the pistol. Damn.

He placed his left hand back on the forward grip of the Uzi. He quickly took stock of the situation. One guy with .50 behind me, three with machine-pistols, these two in front, one with automatics, the woman, I'm not sure on.

"So, tell me. Mr. Marcus, what kind of orgainization do you run?"

Lujza could not help laughing at the human's ridiculous question. As if they were some sort of organized crime network. Her mood was greatly improved.

"What the hell are you laughing at?" Richard snapped at the woman.

Andrew took his weapons back from Luzja, and smiled, pointing them both at Richard's head. "Your not in any position to be asking questions," he hissed. He hissed not becasue he wanted to kill the man, but beacuase Marcus had once again jumped in where he didn't belong. He always did that. Holstering one of the pistols, he spoke again. "You've jumped in on the wrong situation. You shoula just left it all well enough alone."

you people are wierdos

you people are wierdos

OOC: Damn right

IC:
Lujza was still laughing, she simply could not contain herself. She had an odd sense of humor. Managing to pause her laughter for a second, she exclaimed "He's so funny!" before cracking up again. She liked the poor man, as she couldn't help thinking his utter cluelessness on his apparent quest for vengeance somewhat cute. The fact that anyone would not instantly recognize her as a vampire did not completely register, as she was still adjusting from Callisdrunian life, where she and her kind were just part of regular society to her human fellow citizens. When she was finally able to stop laughing, she asked "What is your name, man?"

you people are wierdos


OOC: I would rather be weird than be a boring norm.

IC: Well, that had got me nowhere. What exactly was he? The gore of the scene did not have any reaction to her. She had seen worse, she had even done worse. Those horrifc days of bloodshed for just the habit of it were long gone with the decay of their bones.

The way he cocked his head at her, she figured he did not understand her.
Hmm...there was always one way to show...

She spotted a rat cowering near a splattered intestine against the wall. Its bead-eyes glared at her and she stared back. She pointed her gun at the rat and fired. The rat, now not able to discern that it was definitely a rat, was seperated into thousands of bloody pieces against the wall. Its part mixed with already seperated intestine.

She did not flinch at the kickback of her gun. It was a silencer, so she wasn't thinking of any other intruders coming along. She looked over at the man. She pointed her gun at his head, cocking it to the side.

She placed her arm that was holding the gun to her side. A rare thing, a slight smile broke her normally blank face. It flickered there, that should be a universal sign that he has a choice to either go my way or be blown to pieces. Any creature would understand that, I hope.

Just in case of an attack her other arm was on her knife. She carefully watched his movements. Waiting for a response.

"Richard Starbuck, Sargent Hampton SWAT team 7." He said. His eyes flashed to the woman.

"My wife and son...3 months old...were murdered, butchered. YOU CALL THAT FUNNY!?" His face turned red as he stared at her.

Richard let go of the Uzi with his left hand but kept his right hand tightly gripping the machine-pistol. His finger traced along the pistol. Damn.

He placed his left hand back on the forward grip of the Uzi. He quickly took stock of the situation. One guy with .50 behind me, three with machine-pistols, these two in front, one with automatics, the woman, I'm not sure on.

"So, tell me. Mr. Marcus, what kind of orgainization do you run?"

"Lets just say that we do a lot of work at night" Crassus drew his sword, it seemed to almost glow in the moonlight "You seem pretty clam for a man outnumbered and out weaponed. Tell me, what do you know about werewolfs?..Mr. Werewolf hunter" He laughed a little as did his flunkies that he brought along.

Rather stunned by Richard's sudden outburst, Lujza's chuckles stopped cold. "No. No sir, I do not find that funny, I apologize. I just find that your total ignorance about what's actually going on hilarious. In my home country, no one would still be guessing what it's all about. Not after I opened my mouth anyway." To emphasize the point, she made sure her fangs were visible. "What makes you think that what you call a 'werewolf' killed your family? Couldn't it have been some particularly brutish murderer?" Her voice was serious, but not stern. She was asking, not interrogating.

"I can answer both questions easliy." He reached into his pocket. One of the deathdealers reached forward and grabbed what Richard had.

The vampire opened the envolpe and ran through a series of black and white pictures. All showing a woman holding a baby being torn to bits by a lycan. The vampire handed the pictures to Crassus.

Richard spoke, his voice was quivering, tears forming in his eyes.

"That is my house a month and a half ago. The woman......is...was my wife. The....the...the baby was my son."

Lujza went over to Crassus and looked at the pictures. They were horrific, even to her. "That's horrible. Disgusting creatures," she said in reference to the Lycans. "I can assure you that we all hate them as much as you do. They are such brutes." She did feel sorry for Richard, as she had always thought that parents should never have to bury their children. "I thought you would surely have noticed by now, but I am a vampire. Just so you know, if the bullets in those toys of yours are lead, they're not going to take down any lycan."

She shook his hand. "I am Lujza Batory, pleased to know that we have a mutual loathing of lycans. However, I can't speak for any of these people. If they feel like introducing themselves, they will. If not, they won't, and they might decide to kill you. Or they might introduce themselves and kill you anyway. I won't harm you, though, since we share enemies and I have no real quarral with you. Sorry to hear about your poor family."

Richard stood there. He couldn't find any words to say, his heart rate increased slightly. A vampire? That explains the woman near the alley, she bit me and drank.....my blood. All these people are vampires. At least this Lujza seems nice

He felt vunerable, thinking of them pouncing on him, ripping his throat out, and feasting on his blood. He tried to think of something else but couldn't. He finally gathered enough strenght to talk, nervousness and fear dripped off every word.

"Nice to meet you."

"Yes, those lycans are such horrible creatures" Crassus didn't actually consider allying witht he man, but perhaps the pittyfull human could be used for something. Crassus ordered his men to put there weapons away "Tell me, have you ever actually fought a werewolf, or as we call them, Lycans?"

Andrew sighed, keeping his gun out. "You gotta be kiding me right?" He looked at the pictures, and dropped them. "Big friggen deal. So his family died from a Lycahn attack. How many have died from the attacks that we dont help? Crasus, you gotta be kiding me, going soft on this bastard." He looked back at Richard, his teeth clenched, fangs visable.

"I say we turn him into dinner. Right here, right now, just take a nice big sip."

Andrew's voice pounded in her head. She had heard everything that was going on with the group since the human had arrived, she chose now to respond.

"Andrew, is correct. Why show sympathy for these pathetic creatures? They have hunted our kin for centuries because they did not know or understand. We understand this insignificant creatures because of the numerous studies our kin as done on them. They kill us because they fear and are not willing to accept. We only kill for food. Even the werewolves are more intellectual then this pesilent things called humans. It, however, does not surprise me that the mother-child were mauled by a werewolf. Yet, I do not show any remorse for the lychan or any sympathy for him. Things like this show us who we are and how we deal with stresses of life. It is obvious that he still is in the stage of denial, just most humans. Richard, I have lost endless amounts of my relatives because of humans like you who do not understand. Why should I care? Apathy is my friend." Silence came from her next.

Throughout her speech she kept her eyes on him, still waiting his response.

Lujza supposed it was different in other countries, where vampires were a much smaller minority than in Callisdrun. Anyone who said they did not believe in the existance of vampires in her home country would be laughed at and mocked as a fool. One simply could not ignore 15% of the population. Conflict had been constant until just after Callisdrun's unification (814 CE). The first king would not have been able to rise to power without the help of the vampiric clans and so laws were passed and institutions set up to prevent conflict. They had worked. She did not understand the bitterness and elitist attitude of her fellows here, and also was totally baffled by the irrational fear and stigma that these strange foreign humans attached to them. This was so unfamiliar, as in Callisdrun, it wasn't a big deal. She had dated humans on multiple occasions before, though she probably wouldn't mention the fact to this company.

Lujza rolled her eyes at Andrew's and the woman's incredible display of bad manners. "I'm not hungry, in fact, I think I had a bit too much from that now-unconcious guy back there. Anyway, I think it would be a bit wasteful to kill an enemy of our enemies. You talk of humans being unwilling to accept, but this particular one seems to harbor ill will only towards the lycans, so you're just going to kill him? Perhaps, despite your talk of it, you do not wish to be accepted? Sorry to interrupt, Richard, say whatever you were going to say."

She liked to be contradictory.

"Come now, we should team up with this man" said Crassus as one of the death dealers secretly attached a small tracking device on Richards back. Crassus would take care of Andrew later, as for now he needed to get the human to work with them. "Tell me, if we can get you the tools to kill a lycan what will you do for us in return,?"

OOC: I'm just seeing an opportunity here and taking it. Since this is still the night before the meeting, I figure it won't really be out of order. I'm thinking that this will just be after Thomas has woken up and the two of them are starting to prepare for tomorrow anyhow.

IC:

The 'unconcious man' twitched, and slowly brought his hand up to his neck, wiping off the blood. Rasvar staunched it quickly, and only a slightly red blur remained.

You remained conscious thought Rasvar. Good job.

Thank you Returned Thomas.

It has allowed me to concentrate on other things. Each new trick you learn will allow me to direct my mind elsewhere. Each new trick you learn will make us more powerful. Rasvar paused, then changed the subject. The bite carried a virus. I eliminated it.

What were they? asked Thomas.

From the fact that they took way too much blood from you, and the fact that one of them smelled like he was dead, I would guess that they were vampires.

We are getting taken by surprise all too often these days. thought Thomas. It is annoying us.

That it is. Said Rasvar But be patient. Soon we shall be the ones doing the taking by surprise. Soon we shall be the powerful ones, not just in mind but in body, and these plots of yours are the perfect tests to train you. Indeed, I am glad that you are the human I found. I must re-iterate that you make a fine host.

Thank you again. thought Thomas. How is our friend?

She was conscious, and wandered off. I have already formulated a solution for her, but we must find her soon. And remember to drink lots of fluids.

Do we have time to listen to the vampires talking? asked Thomas.

Yes.

The whole conversation had taken only three seconds, being completely mental. They crawled forward for a basic view, then watched the vampires leave the alley and get ambushed by a familiar face.

It is the annoying one. They couldn't be sure whether it was Thomas or Rasvar that thought that. Probably both.

A heated conversation ensued, with more vampires arriving. They listened, and learned.

The vampires are enemies of the ones we stalk. We should stalk the vampires as well.

There is no time. Be assured that we will meet them.

What arrogance that one has. Oh the things they do not know.

The things they are better off not knowing.

We will stalk them later. Come, let us find our friend. She can not have gone far in her state.

That done, they crawled away, to repair the damage of others, and to prepare for the coming day.

Richard looked at Crassus.
"Well in terms of fighting them, one attacked me in an alley nearly made me dog food. Put a few .44 shells into it before it ran off."

Richard's grip tightened on the Uzi as he stared at Andrew. He wasn't really afraid of his suggestion of him being made into dinner, he was angry he would say "Big deal" in front of him. He just wanted to smash the metalic butt against the vampire's skull and throttle him.
"Let me ask you a question, before you became a vampire were you married and did you have a child?"

He waited for the woman who had bitten him earlier in the evening.
"I'm not expecting you to feel sorry for me. I'd rather go back to my motel, grab a bottle of vodka, get smashed, sober up, and then review the video I have of the attack, and keep tracking him. I'm not a werewolf hunting pro like you, but this guy has been leaving a forensic trail a mile wide, allowing me to track him the convential way."

He made a quick glance at Lujza with a look of Thank you in his eyes for helping to keep Andrew from ripping his neck out. He turned back to Crassus, he never felt the tracking device put on his back.
"I have a degree in forensics, if that is any help. Chose to work as a police man instead of in a lab, much more interesting, though I haven't forgotten much of what I've learn. I also have a small kit in my motel."

((So, um, can I enter soon, or should I just leave now. It's feeling more and more like I'm trying to squeeze into a story that really can't hold anymore people.))

((So, um, can I enter soon, or should I just leave now. It's feeling more and more like I'm trying to squeeze into a story that really can't hold anymore people.))

No no, stay. I'm trying to figure out how to smoothly transition my character from talking to Andrew, Richard, Crassus, etc. to getting attacked by your character.

Andrew chuckled. Not only was he undead, he was also cruel, and heartless. "No, but even if I did, if I needed food, they'd be the first I'd go after. So what, you lost your family. I've lost many friends becuase you humans. To me, your just food." He then looked at Crasus.

"Dont be stupid. You give him the tools, he'll turn them on us as soon as he's done. I say we just let him go, let him fight the Lychans on his own. He wont survive this long with them," he hissed, his fangs flashing.

OOC: Imitora, did you get my TGs?

IC:

Richard looked at him.

"Then you have no idea in hell what I'm going through. You'd go after your own family? You're a sick, cold hearted, self-absorbed, son of a b*tch. I don't harbor any hatred against your kind, but you, I'd gladly kill you. I have not interest going after vamipres, I'm only interested in hunting down the person who destroyed my life."

No no, stay. I'm trying to figure out how to smoothly transition my character from talking to Andrew, Richard, Crassus, etc. to getting attacked by your character.

((Understood. I just needed to know if I had been forgotten or not. Take your time with the transition, I'd rather it be good than hasty.))

She looked over at the man. She pointed her gun at his head, cocking it to the side.

She placed her arm that was holding the gun to her side. A rare thing, a slight smile broke her normally blank face. It flickered there, that should be a universal sign that he has a choice to either go my way or be blown to pieces. Any creature would understand that, I hope.

Just in case of an attack her other arm was on her knife. She carefully watched his movements. Waiting for a response.

Seviraloth, of course, interpretted this as a threat. This is something he did not take lightly. She showed a flaw. She proved she was armed and and, with the killing of the rodent, which to Seviraloth's opinion, was without use because she wasn't going to eat it, meant to use it. It was primary that he should remove this instrument.

Seviraloth leapt to the right, his fists clenching, knowing her eyes would follow his silhouette. He then immediately juked to the left, then jumped up to the right again, kicking off the wall and spinning horizontally, his left leg tucking in to swing his tough, muscular right foot directly at the human's head.

OOC: Yeah, but as we can see, that idea went by the wayside.

IC:

"Thank you, I take that as a compliment," Andrew replied. "Too bad you jumped in on this war, where your kind as no part." He looked at Crasus. "C'mon, let me take this kine. Make him a ghoul or sometin."

Richard kept the uzi trained on Andrew. He thought tensions would subsided, but since this vampire had an obvious hatred of humans, it would be impossible to get through his thick skull Richard didn't care about the vampires. He did a strange thing then, he put the Uzi on the ground. Noone knew why he did this.

"If you want a fight you have to find someone...."

Richard saw a black shape leaping for him. His right hand landed on his revolver when he felt something heavy strike his head. Richard fell backwards and fell to the ground, the pistol flying out of his hands and landing on the ground next to him.

OOC: High Orc, do you know why character is a vampire? Or is your character just confused by what she is? Well, I don't mind a fight, but know I do what her to survive because of the other storyline meant for this thread. Thank you, oh and could you possibly give me hints as to how she can communicate with him, she was using universal face language. I am at loss for what else to do. Oh don't make assumptions about my character, she is not watching your silhouette, but the movement of his muscles.

IC: Alexis reacted quickly to his approaching leg. She snapped her wrist up and pushed his leg out of the way. She counteracted by flipping over him and landing behind him, raising her left palm to connect to his chin. She felt the crack back, but he did not look to be too harmed. She refrained from using her gun, it appeared he had no weapons. She came at him with several roundhouses and then did the splits, sending upcuts inbetween his legs. She bounced back up within seconds and her gun was raised.

Her breathe still very much controlled, "I said I did not want to fight."

OOC: High Orc, do you know why character is a vampire? Or is your character just confused by what she is?

OOC: There were no vampires in Palladium at the time of the High Orcs existence. They are unknown both in mythology and reality.

Well, I don't mind a fight, but know I do what her to survive because of the other storyline meant for this thread. Thank you, oh and could you possibly give me hints as to how she can communicate with him, she was using universal face language. I am at loss for what else to do. Oh don't make assumptions about my character, she is not watching your silhouette, but the movement of his muscles.

OOC: As noted, Seviraloth can understand English HumanSpeak pretty well. He can't speak it at all though. He understands her language, but easily misinterprets her motives. He wants to remove that sidearm...

IC: Alexis reacted quickly to his approaching leg. She snapped her wrist up and pushed his leg out of the way. She counteracted by flipping over him and landing behind him.

OOC: The sheer momentum of his aerial snap kick would be well over 1000 psi. Seviraloth weighs nearly 300 lbs of pure muscle. His equipment puts it around 350. It's unlikely that many of his attacks can be deflected because of his Raw Strength. If blocked, your stance will be blown back just because of the force of his attacks. It's as if he has minor potence (V:tM). The best course of action would be evasive manuevers: to avoid the contact. Seviraloth is a member of the Juggernauts. He's a lead Grunt in it as well, noted for his strength and aggressive behavior. This is why he was picked.

IC: The moment the human attempted to flip over him, Seviraloth just reached up to grab her and slam her down, directly to the road. He would inverse his momentum and leap up while doing it, throwing her down in a most harsh manner {all other attacks by Alexis negated}. Seviraloth was nearly 7 feet tall, his arms could reach up past that. Unless Alexis was jumping over 13 feet in the air (because, if necessary, Seviraloth would jump to grab her), she could not avoid his reach.

OOC: I did mention, earlier, that the Big Orc was close to the only reason for my joining this RP, yes? Good. Prime to interfere, no?

IC:

Karnath smiled as he braced himself, finding his center. It didn't take long, and then he was off. He reached the edge of the rooftop of the building upon which he stood, and catapulted himself into the air. He shot upwards, then arced gracefully downwards.

He touched down on the edge of an intermediate building, then hurled himself airborne again. It was, of course, an eminently graceful maneuver...and one that very few individuals could pull off.

Karnath Kal'Dregan was, obviously, one of them. He hit his final target building with barely any impact force at all. Because he was redirecting it, you see. He didn't roll out of the impact, he ran out of it, setting his shoulder as he did so.

The subject of impact was what he could only assume was a bloody gigantic redcap (Obviously, Seviraloth ze Orc.) Now, it might seem kinda stupid, y'know, body-checking an Orc. But Karnath was a Methuselah. (Consider: He has a decidedly high level of potence. Further: Karnath was crossing swords with a Crinos-form Werewolf earlier. Consider: at that point, Brian was nine feet tall...well...you get the picture.)
---

(Confusing, I know. Lemme summarize: Karn is enigmatic, and I've never actually stated where he was...so, he does his Tigger impression, hops over to the building where Alexis and Severaloth are having their staring contest, and body-checks the orc. Woo-hoo.)

Seviraloth could smell the being as soon as it interfered within his domain. He just redirected his toss off Alexis (assuming it happens, though it's going to take a lot of explaining how it wouldn't) to pitch her at the oncoming humanoid.

OOC: Palladium Orcs have superior vision and a superb sense of smell. They can find and track any scent within 100 feet. If they recognize it (or it's blood), they can track it over much longer distances (half a kilo).

Also note, I've added a post to the OOC thread.

(OOC: Valient seriously needs to post here...)

OOC: Okay, High Orc. I understand now. Maybe we should have communicated more out of telegrams. Cause now this is just a mess. It is obvious to say that my character will be mauled by yours. She is very strong for her species, but it does not compare to yours, I see that now. I suppose the best thing for her to do is run, which she will not. Plus, I don't forsee my character asking for mercy, not her style. We need to figure something out because she will fight to the end and I don't want her to die, at least not at this point. I am afraid that my IC post will be brief and short. I apologize until we figure something out. Plus, I will be gone until Sunday, so if we all play it slowly I can come back and catch up thanks. Here we go....

IC: Alexis was surprised by this man's strength. She had gashed her face and blood drained into her eyes, decreasing her vision. Her head pounded and black spots flashed infront of her sight. She felt as if she would faint. She figured she couldn't take him on, but she didn't want to stop. Her energy was draining and she knew he knew this also. She tried blocking his attacks and failed. Her respirations now labored. She just fought for energy to get away from his attacks. She didn't throw any attacks at him and now she was flying in the opposite direction. She spun herself around in the air. Landing several feet infront of another man. She rolled and scrapped against the ground, hearing her body crack and felt her skin peel away with the cement. Her head made contact with the cement and all was black.

OOC: Guess I will leave it at that. Don't know what else to do. I suppose High Orc your character can take me or Revenia's. Or just leave me.

OOC: Amanda the great, your character cannot die! She is part of the reason for this whole story. Your character and Valient's must not die at least until they meet and stuff, y'know... like in your description of the story from the OOC section!

And yeah, I wish Valient would post, Thomas is getting awfully tired of standing guard outside of the meeting. Ah well...

Oh, and as a note, if you let Cyberutopia on (as he says) do you think it just might be wise to update the cast list? Just my sniveling little opinion...

OOC: I don't think ATG's character is gonna die, just knocked out at the moment.

IC:

Richard didn't know why he did it. He got up from where he was laying and moved to Alexis. Upon first glance she appeared unconisous, with the possiblity of a broken bone or two. Taking off his jacket he ripped strips out of it and quickly began to wrap them around the areas that were bleeding.

The thought never passed through his mind that he was trying to stop the bleeding on someone, who had drank some of his own blood only a few hours before.

OOC: All he did was pretty much use Alexis as an effective buffer to avoid Karnath's attack. Then again, if KArnath just blows through her, then she may have a problem.

Karnath frowned...of course the big ape would have sensed him. That was all part of his master plan...because there about to become a whole lot more of him. Ahh...lesson number one: You might think you one-upped the Ravnos...but you didn't. He wants you think that.

He effortlessly weaved illusion into existence. He was so skilled at this, that his illusions were practically real. (Extremely high level Chimerstry (8 dots in ww terms)) So...when thirteen Karnath Kal'Dregans shook free their Spathas...

Within moments, it was impossible to tell who the real Justicar was. So, the invisible force that shoved Richard out of the way was entirely unexpected. (Obviously, this is the real Karnath using Obfuscate...)

He mumbled annoyedly and scooped the unconcious vampire up into his arms, upon contact, she would vanish as well. It was child's play to vault from the building, leaving the illlusionary entities (who were, to Seviraloth, quite real...but you knew that, right, Raz?) behind for the orc to play with.

He mumbled annoyedly and scooped the unconcious vampire up into his arms, upon contact, she would vanish as well. It was child's play to vault from the building, leaving the illlusionary entities (who were, to Seviraloth, quite real...but you knew that, right, Raz?) behind for the orc to play with.

When Surrounded and outnumbered, Seviraloth did the only intelligent thing: Retreated. As the eight illusions (Assuming he's using Fatuus Mastery and they appeal to "all" his senses, otherwise he could just know that they're fake because they emit a difference scent than Karnath, or no scent at all). The High orc leapt up over six teeth vertically, against the wall of the building, kicking off it to send him to the other wall, and continued this practice until he had scaled it and back onto the roof.

He kneeled, but for a moment to let his equilibrium subside and gaze across his surroundings. Something was off about this. There were supernatural predators about in this realm. Things from the likes of Hades and Dyval, the two Daemonic Realms of Palladium. Perhaps they were Fiends, or Arch-Fiends. He couldn't be sure, but he wasn't going to find out now. Survival took hold of everything else, and he would need to insure that he would survive.

Seviraloth took off, hopping along the rooftops, leaping from chimney's to chemical exhaust pipes. His feet were heavy in his step, and he did not look back. His muscles in his legs flexed and stretched as he propelled himself in the air to cross the wide gaps between buildings. After nearly a kilometer of running, Seviraloth had not only managed to leap from building, to building, but had climbed up nearly 13 stories into the air. He slowed down as he climbed up an apartment complex, build in ragged brick, with windows barred. He looked around once, before walking to the roof entrance, the door bolted with a pad lock. Seviraloth just rammed his shoulder into it with a running start, putting nearly a ton of force into the attack, the door blowing inward. However, it was too much and Seviraloth found himself lying on it as it surfed down a single flight of stairs, then into a wall. The Orc slid down the door and his head slammed directly into the wall.

Without a helmet, he sustained a concussion and blacked out.

OOC: I think two of the scenes are getting all mixed up. Editations anyone?

ooc: sorry that I havn't been on for a bit, I have been busy. Also, with all due respect High Orcs your character seems a little to powerfull.

Heres the new thread...

http://forums2.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?p=7220868#post7220868