Realistic or Modern ᴘᴀʀᴀᴅɪsᴇ ᴄɪᴛʏ | Main [open & accepting]

[Athanas]

Jacques was angry. You would probably know if you were around him, given that he was never some sort of masterclass at concealing his emotions, but this time, he had a somewhat sensible reason.

His lieutenant had fucked off on his own. Without backup, warning, planning, or intelligence. Just one man and his fiery sword, riding off into the sunset. Erm, proverbial sunset, that is, since the actual sunset had gone the way of the dodo in this here city.

A most inspiring display of bravery! And initiative! And conviction! And all the other things he was sure everyone back at HQ would say once they heard about it. Jacques disagreed, and disagreed strongly. The creatures they were fighting were potent and vicious. Brute strength was most certainly not the damn way to go about it, especially when you held rank, when your death would seriously hinder the organization!

Jacques sighed and tried to calm himself. It was alright. Nobody said being the sole bastion of intellect amidst a sea of stupidity was supposed to be easy. You just have to make a lot of contingencies.

The spyware he had very helpfully planted in his superior's phone did allow him to, at least, have an easy time tracking him down. The sounds from the microphone were sadly muted, given that he kept it inside of a pocket, but it was still enough to tell him that he was in a public place. Okay, joy. Bloodsuckers and Monsters would have a harder time getting to him there. He just needed to get to him, give him his findings, and then politely suggest he ask for some backup next time.

Still, it was entirely possible everything would go completely tits-up, as they say. And in those cases, it was a great idea to have a Plan B ready.

A very lethal, regenerating Plan B.

Although she creeped him out to no end, given her ability to completely nullify any and all attempts to keep track of her, he couldn't deny that she was incredibly effective at what she was supposed to be doing. Perhaps that was the reason as to why he'd never tried to kill her. Either that, or his inability to get any kind of plan that would result in her death above a projected success rate of 71%.

Wiping the thought out of his mind, he quickly shot her a text, hoping she'd have remember to keep the phone he had given her.

Night's getting interesting. Nothing concrete yet but you might be needed at some point. How's the Calendar look like?
-S. T. Ranger

Of course, this was only if the current night got worse. He had almost made it to Tom, and so far everything seemed quiet. Just a little bit more and he'd be able to prevent any idiocy-

Then he heard the distinct sound of someone getting up, the music getting more and more faint, a door opening.

Oh fuck.

He started to run, foregoing his usual meticulous sweep of the area for a dash. He almost groaned as he heard the lieutenant speak utter platitudes, more than likely giving away his position to the enemy before he could take advantage of it. Jacques heard sounds of fighting, of flesh meeting steel, the ignition of flames...

He rapidly turned the corner, four pieces of rebar suddenly rising to hover ominously to either side of his head, ready to save his superior-

Oh.

He was fine. By his calculations, there was only a 38% chance of this occurrence, odds that he would most definitely not risk himself. He let the rebar fly, venting his frustration by nailing the undead body to the ground, expertly avoiding hitting the other Hunter despite their proximity. The vampire writhed but weakly, already grievously injured by the fire and the holy water.

"Would it fucking kill you to make a concrete plan before you rush alone into possibly enemy territory?" He groaned, unable to hide his frustration, his unnerving presence only worsening his tone.

However, he quickly got himself under control, and sighed, leaning up against a nearby wall and finally doing a cursory check of the perimeter, to ensure no further surprises were in store.
"Apologies, Sir. I simply wished to deliver you this dossier with my own findings related to the investigation, and when I was told of your whereabouts...I could not help but worry. Evidently, my concern was justified."

From his backpack, he drew a folder detailing what he'd managed to gather so far, holding it up. "I leave the honors of interrogation up to you, Sir. Just let me know if you want the metal to...hurt more." He added, unable to conceal a vicious grin.

zlexis SweetRose

 

[thinking]

[tainn, elu]-[west side, lucky dave's bar]-[interactions- Sepokku / werewolves ]

Another bloody murder had sliced the City and it was affecting the dynamics of the pack. Tremendous strain had snaked its way around the throat of the werewolf community. The pack was the smallest it had ever been in the five years of the Fog- with most of the members dwindling simply due to quitting. The act of slicing ties with a wolf pack was a painstaking ritual that had sadly become much more common, much to Elu’s disdain. Wolves were more than family and most were bound by blood which was not just inherently tied…

The slashing, unrelenting rain cut through Elu’s vision, the window of the car seemingly cracking under nature's pressure. It obscured the little vision Elu had of the narrow one-way country lanes and her car’s leather steering wheel was bowing as her grip was mercilessly tight. To be swerving left to right with non-stop speeding acceleration was also dangerous but the matter was urgent. She needed to determine that there was no wolf-involvement. With the current climate, all she could do was pray.

Opening up Lucky Dave’s den was awkward in the rain. The dismal night tasted of damp, the thickly sombre mood was suffocating and it was tense. Holding such a severely urgent meeting at this hour caused tension but it needed to be done. Those who happened not to attend would need to be punished so the first thing she did was a head count. (Luckily there will be some slack cut due to the ungodly hour).

*​

There was whispers of dismay and groans of tire and to settle such mood the first thing she did was ask one of the barmen of Lucky Daves’ (who happened to also be a loyal werewolf) to pass round comforting hot drinks. Elu exhaled before proceeding to a raised level of the flooring and taking a sip of her coffee before beginning:

“I’m not going to apologise for the late hour: This is a matter of urgency and I will not be tolerating any complaints.” Elu paused for a moment, marvelling at their loyal gazes before continuing. “As you have all been alerted. There has been another homicide– Another fucking murder in our fucking town.” She raised her voice slightly, to those who may not have been listening and a glint of amber flashed in her eyes. “We need to be as vigilant as possible. We just cannot afford to have the Deo Volente on our tails. They are becoming more wary of us and it’s disgusting, we cannot afford to lose any more of us.. Instead, what we need to be focusing on is unity: to protect ourselves, our families and our pack. The vampires… What do I say about them? Let them do what they want- don’t let it involve us.” She curled her lip up in distaste at the word; vampires were nausea inducing and with the wave of sickness came reminded memories of her boyfriend. She had to ignore them, as tonight was not the night to reveal any weakness or vulnerability.

 

[SidTheSkid]

---

[Location: Saint Haddock - East Side, Club Lazarus ]
[Currently: Discussing matters with Lotte, Sabine, and Dante]
[Mood: Purposeful ]

Magnus's features warped and the creases on his forehead deepened as his brows furrowed, Charlotte's amiguous initial comment; "Such kind words from a man as... well, yourself." Was that supposed to a playful jab or a thinly veiled insult? But either way, Magnus would've felt a faint reddened flush rise to his cheeks at Charlotte's crude and perverse comment, but he'd do his best not to let it show. He took another helping of his cigarette, exhaling a cloud of smog through his nostrils like he were a bull. They weren't about to let her get the best of him and because of this, Magnus would crank his metaphorical 'smart ass dial' up from zero as he ran his hand through his short, messy blonde hair, being sure to flash the vampiric woman a crooked grin, his cerulean blue eyes twinkling with mischief as his voice dripped with sarcasm.

"We just met and you're already havin' these dirty imaginations about me? Hard to blame ya, i've been told to have a lot of 'lookers'. Sorry to disappoint miss but if that's the 'duty' you're into seeing then it's going to take more than a few sips of alcohol to get me started on loosening my belt; but by all means, i'm more than up for a fun night."

With the minor flick of his thumb, he expertly redirected the cigarette between his knuckles causing the butt of it to tumble back into his mouth, the move executed in a 'stylish' way that was also complimented by the playful wink he shot towards Charlotte. Soon enough his attention had wavered over to Sabine, her dry chortle tinkling in his ears as she complimented his pronounced mannerisms. The earlier amusement Magnus had begun draining from his expression as a twinge of discomfort overcame him watching the one lifeless body of the redhead being prepared for removal, the macabre sight of which contrasting sharply with the former jollity that was given. Still, he was very grateful for Sabine taking interest in talking to him, even motioning for him to join her and the others, offering him a seat at the booth they were lounging in.

"Thanks Sabine, I appreciate the hospitality. Oh and by all means carry on with your dealings 'n' what not, didn't mean to interrupt business, i'll wait until you two are finished."

Magnus eagerly accepted her invitation to join the others onto the plush seating arrangements, as he settled himself into the offered seat, he would take in the intricately carved furniture and the rich fabrics that draped it. His yearning for a moment of respite was overcome forthwith by unfolding drama between the Sabine, Charlotte and that "Mr. Wolfsbane" individual; finally a name that gave a shape to the tailored enigmatic figure that he'd seen at the bar, definitely an interesting character even by the name alone. The discussion started to grow more heated as time past, Magnus felt a frisson of tension ripple through the air and the sudden rise in Wolfsbane's voice caught him off guard, the man's utteranced boomed through the room like clashing waves of thunder. The vampire's words carried the idea of an alliance, an offering of power that attracted the Coven Leader's silent curiosity. Ears and eyes in ever shadowy corner of the city? Magnus was beginning to think he was some hireable informant/cleaner or an influential criminal, both maybe, he definitely didn't seem far off from the truth.

Charlotte's reaction to Wolfsbane's tone was outright venomous, her tone ringing out like the shrill crack of a whip as she proceeded to demand respect and began questioning his competence. As the conversation turned towards the topic of "Deo Velonte," Magnus groaned to himself, he knew of the organization, of course - an order of warlocks and wizards who devoted themselves to the eradication of vampires and other supernatural species they deemed as "abominations." It was a contrast to his own coven, which had always been more inclusive in its approach to the supernatural world; Magnus understood why they came to be and he didn't blame them but their way of resolving the issues at hand were far too extreme for his tastes. Right as the atmosphere was prickling with unease and reaching its climax; "Enough!" Sabine's voice would ring out in an almost blaring way causing Magnus to utter a hushed reply to all of this.

"Man, I guess this is what it's like as a child watching your parents argue, a big 'ol sense of awkwardness and a willingness to cry. Me 'bout to weep being more so from the lack of alcohol i've got in my flask. Uh, can I get some whiskey, preferrably without someone's blood in it? I'd like to not be at risk for hepatitis."

He wasn't sure how his request for regular whiskey would've been received, not wanting to arouse this already heated situation Magnus sheepishly slinked back into the plush cushions, feeling a sense of discomfort that he'd distract himself from by leaning over to one of the nearby servants and whispering his request, hoping that they would return with something that wouldn't give him a blood-borne virus. As the conversation began to wind down, Sabine spoke of the deceased human, now gone from the room, leaving only smears of blood where she had lain. She remindined him and the rest that no one who entered this realm was truly innocent, yet, Magnus wasn't concerned with that but more so the consequences that it'd wrought.

"Mhm, sure that may be true, but you realize they're still a Human, right Sabine? Your justification for killin'em will almost always be blurred by hatred and the Deo Velonte aren't one for listening to such excuses. Honestly that just might give them a reason to go out on another hunt and take the lives of ten of your kind, in retaliation for murdering a single human. War aint gonna solve anythin' but making a mass grave out of 'Paradise'."

[ Loomis , Loxely , Eldarkon ]

---

 

[zlexis]

Thomas Barrett​

TW: violence, mentions of torture​

Eastside
Dark alleyway beside the pub

Tom was half-a-blade deep into victory and about to launch into a full monologue when he heard the shout from behind. The burnt body writhed pathetically under his weight as rebar skewered the monster in four places, each making a pleasing squelch sound. Even with his back turned, the signature move and snarky comment clued him to the perpetrator's identity. Tom inwardly groaned.

"Would it fucking kill you to make a concrete plan before you rush alone into possibly enemy territory?" said none other than the Jacques-Louis Du Chateau-Pere. The newest member of Deo Velonte and an absolute gearhead. His contributions thus far have been both useful and welcomed if one was willing to put up with his crass comments. This earned a sigh from Tom, and he pushed himself to his feet, attempting to ignore the stench of burnt flesh. The sword remained in the vampire, content to follow the will of its master.

"Jacques," the lieutenant replied as his detached form of greeting.

Coming to his senses, the other man apologized and expressed his fears for Tom's safety and his well-being. This statement put him slightly aback. He could not see why anyone would be concerned for him, let alone try to help for that matter, but it was appreciated nonetheless. An ally in purging the occult was never turned down in any case.

He watched as the man took a gander at their surroundings, and once he'd decided the coast was clear, he procured a folder--the dossier--from his backpack. This piqued the interest of Tom instantly. He was shy in admitting that he hadn't found much information as of yet, and was eager to get his hands on anything.

"Bring it here," he demanded, which translated as to those who knew him: 'Great work, buddy, thanks for the help!'

His mind changed when he heard a muted moan from the issue at hand; the vampire was starting to regenerate, her skin tissue crossing and weaving over both blade and rebar.

"On second thought," Tom said, returning full attention to the monster, "give me the summary in a minute. We have this ugly thing to deal with."

Flames erupted from his fist until they subdued into a ball of flame cradled in his fingertips. He brought it closer to her face, the fiery orange glow reflecting fear in her eyes. For the second time that night, Tom smiled.

---

The torture lasted for only a few minutes, but in this alleyway, it felt like an eternity. With every burn, every laceration, every order to drive the rebar further into her insides, Tom saw himself back in that room. He was fourteen, just a boy in desperate need of a haircut, and his face was flushed with exhaustion. It was training day; soft, mechanical whirring began in time with his painful gulps for air. He heard the words 'again', and the torment began anew.

"Again," the twenty-seven-year-old Deo Velonte said, but before he could burn her more, she finally broke.

He listened gleefully as she spilled information, some Tom guessed Jacques had likely already acquired, but the mention of a couple of familiar names and thorns in his side popped up that piqued his interest. He side-eyed the other Deo Velonte and repeated what he'd heard in a careful tone.

"Dante Wolfbane, leader of the Crimson Tears. The DeLormè sisters. Supposedly meeting all in one place this night. Seems to me like fish in a barrel, and our likely suspects."

He pulled himself to his feet, wiping off his blackened fingertips on his coat. "Tell me what intel you have while I dispose of this thing. Or, if you'd like to do the honors, I'll have no qualms. Just make it quick."

---

Character Reference
Interactions: Jacques-Louis Athanas | Mentions: Dante Eldarkon | Sabine Loomis | Lottie Loxely

 

[Sepokku]

Dani lounged around the bar with the ease of someone who truly didn't care what others thought. Her boots rested on the stool she had kicked them up onto, her elbows leaning against the bar as she drummed the fingers of her left hand against the walnut paneling. Her right hand sported a half empty bottle of Voodoo Ranger, the one-eyed skeleton with a gold filling on the logo stared back at her knowingly. She had somehow beat the pack Alpha here, not that she was completely surprised to have done so, Elu was a strange one.

Three of the newer pack members approached her, clearly trying to work up the courage to start some sort of challenge. The two that were furthest back kept jostling each other and exchanging whispers, it got annoying enough that she would have approached them if one of them hadn't finally gotten the balls to walk up to her.

With a bored expression, she flipped him off, using the index finger on that same hand to point to the other end of the bar, "Fuck off, I'm sitting here."

"Yeah, we noticed. Omega wolves aren't supposed to sit at the bar."

"Excuse me?!"

"You'll be excused when I say you're excu-"

The bottle she had been holding connected with his jaw, right at the sweet spot, his head snapping to the side as the bottle shattered, spraying flat beer everywhere. Without waiting for his unconscious body to touch the floor she stood up and grabbed his closest friend by their collar, pulling him in close, "So which one of you idiots is jostling for a position you can't handle, cause I know it weren't Bert over there," she pointed at the person on the ground with her chin.

The man she had by the collar got a wild look in his eyes, then cocked back his fist to throw a wild haymaker. He had the worst form she had ever seen. Who was training the whelps these days? Before he even got halfway through the punch she let go of his collar and planted her boot into his solar plexus, grunting as she kicked him to the floor. Her gaze turned to the only one left, a girl with her fists clenched so tight that her knuckles had turned white.

"Go on. Make your move."

Dani sat there, muscles relaxed as she prepared to spring forward at the slightest hint of provocation. The door to the bar opened instead, Elu striding into the bar with the same pissed expression that most of them had upon being called upon in the middle of a thunderstorm. Wrinkling her nose at the girl, Dani sat back down, kicking her boots back onto the nearest barstool. When Elu had hot drinks passed around, Dani made sure that they brought her a hot toddy.

The rest of the meeting passed relatively quickly. As usual, Elu's hackles raised when the subject of vampires came up, you'd think she had a particularly embarrassing one-night stand with one or something. Not that it really mattered. Compared to her old pack, this one was like night and day. She spent the next few minutes trying and failing to not space out during the meeting.

A lull in Elu's speech reminded her that she had something that might help their investigation. Reaching into her pocket, she produced a printout of a black and white security camera photo. It had the victim's face on it, the picture had been lifted from a gas station camera an hour before the attack, when she stopped to get breath mints. She lifted the picture into the air, "Here is our Jane Doe, for those it may concern."
thinking

 

[Loxely]

The first verbal warning was spat from Sabine. It only enticed Lottie to push more, thus having her go at a rather calculated monologue for Dante.
“Enough,”
Mercilessly broke Lottie's stride. The second warning was more than clear for her to cease any further opinions. Only a poignant nod of acknowledgement, followed by a strained firm smile. Though, she's poked and prodded at Sabine's broodiness in the past, a second warning is as far as it's ever gotten. Knowing well enough in a match between the two, Sabine would not have to make much of an effort to forcefully put Lottie down like a rabid dog.

During the verbal altercation, Lottie had only now made notice of Magnus taking a seat near her. She took the opportunity to take a few mental notices of his demographics. He wreaked of cigarettes, his gruff and unkempt stubble, and that cunning little grin after every sarcastic remark. Lottie became rather intrigued at his opposing features compared to hers. His crass remark invoked curiosity, though his rather obscene offer hung in the air with no response from her - she did find his brash behavior appealing. The glint in her eyes dully gleamed in the dimly lit room while she sized him up, making little to no effort to hide her fascination.

Sabine continued with the business proceedings. Ever so the diplomat, ever so boring. Starting to grow tiresome of being stagnant and now having to sit in silence, Lottie shifted irritably in her seat. She peered down at her empty glass in hand, twirling it at the hilt between two fingers. Though, through her inebriated vison there was at least three glasses. Taking that as a sign, she set it down onto the glass table. Tugging at her hefty stole to tuck neatly within her bent elbows, Lottie looked at Sabine bearing those pearly whites with a delighted grin, "I think I'd like to go dance. If you'd excuse me, dear sister." Her tone falling back into it's typical alluring sentiment.

Pressing out any pleats from the skirt of her dress with flattened hands, she then rose from her seat and bowed her head graciously to Dante, "I must apologize for speaking out of turn for my sister, Mr. Wolfbane. I wish you luck on your business endeavors and hope you two can settle on terms that would befit both of your needs." Despite her honeyed tone, she thought otherwise. or perhaps Sabine will just turn your pretentious self into a glorified footstool.

Now, directing her orchestrated goodbyes to Magnus, though she was actively departing she casted a generous smirk down to him. Bending at the hip, she leaned into his personal realm and grazed those plump lips along his ear, "Perhaps you can gift me a dance as form of apology." Cooing under her breath with an inaudible whisper for his ears only. Regaining her posture and standing upright with her natural poise, she too offered him a subtle nod, "Mr. MacVain." She coolly stated and stepped through the thick curtains.

Greeting Varney, who stood stoic as ever. His keen and watchful eye set along the dancefloor, then down to little Lottie. With the pout of her bottom lip and fists on her frail hips, "I was scolded." In that same breath, her arms snaked over the bodyguard's shoulders, pressing her thin frame against his hulking torso. "Let's just run away together." She teased with such an absurd idea, this wasn't the first silly proposition she's tossed at him, surely it won't be the last. Often tossing empty promises to her confidant was a twisted game she enjoyed, knowing well enough that Varney would never take the bait. He stood in place, stiff as a bored and arms neatly tucked behind his back, "You're as stubborn as a mule. Someday you'll change your mind." A smile did crack along his deadpan expression, only the slightest curl along her lips. Aware of her delusions, he did find them amusing. Lottie removed one hand to press the back of it against her forehead, feigning a melodramatic faint, "Woe is me, little Lottie." Varney slipped an arm at the small of her back, allowing her to have her shining moment for no audience. She arched into his grasp, eyes closed, and struck a slender leg outward, as if it were a scene from a classic drama. Peeking one eye open up to him, giddy with hopes of a reaction from him. He only shook his head and lifted his gaze back to the dancefloor, "Oh, fine." With a huff, she stood upright and looped her arms through his, "Let's go dance." Pulling him along like an obedient dog on a leash as they made way to the crowd. Lottie knowing better that Varney would never actually dance, but the thought still tickled her pink, letting a stream of laughter to escape her.

interactions | Loomis Eldarkon SidTheSkid

 

[Eldarkon]

As Sabine angled her body away from Charlotte and leaned more towards him, Dante could feel the tension dissipating slightly. He listened intently to Sabine's words, and couldn't help but smirk at her subtle jab about the job description of a crime boss. He knew all too well the necessity of violence in their world, but he also knew the importance of being calculated and strategic in its use.

Dante raised an eyebrow at Sabine's statement about the mortal they had killed, but kept his thoughts to himself. He had no qualms about killing those who threatened his operation, but he also knew that it was important to be mindful of the potential consequences. Dante watched Sabine closely as she responded to him, her irritation barely concealed. He had pushed her buttons, and he knew it, but he wasn't afraid to speak his mind. As Sabine addressed Lottie, Dante turned his attention back to Magnus, who had taken a seat nearby.

Dante replies, "Mr Macvain, your concern for your fellow kind is well placed. However, it doesn't matter the fact that our victims are humans. What matters is the care that the killings are taken under. Careless kills always draw more attention" Dante looked back at Sabine "That was my concern with your display of power. Did you even know who your victim was? Someone could come looking for her. We'll never know. Its a risk you'll now have to take" then looked to Charlotte "And leaving bodies in the middle of the street is another perfect example of a sloppy kill. This is the exact behavior that will attract the attention of the Deo Volente"

When Sabine offered an olive branch, Dante couldn't help but chuckle. Sabine's smile suggested that she was willing to let bygones be bygones, and Dante was more than happy to move on from their earlier disagreement. "I'm glad to hear that we're on the same page, Sabine. And believe me, I have no interest in crossing you or your sister. As for the Deo Volente, I have some information that might be useful to you."

Dante was amused at Charlottes apology. Obviously her sister had a great deal of control over her. "I wont have to worry about her much" Dante thought to himself. "It is quite alright my dear" He then glanced over at Sabine and gave a playful smile "Your sister is powerful and capable. I see no further problems arising during our discussions" He became even more amused after reading her thoughts. Dante decided to play with her a little and projected a message into her mind "In your dreams little vampire".

As their glasses clinked together, Dante felt a sense of relief wash over him. Maybe an alliance with Sabine and her sister was just what he needed to take down the Deo Velonte once and for all. Dante took a sip of his drink, savoring the smooth burn of the alcohol.

Tags: Loxely SidTheSkid Loomis

 

[Loomis]

“Uh, can I get some whiskey, preferably without someone's blood in it? I'd like to not be at risk for hepatitis."

Without a word Sabine flicked her risk in a “go fetch” manner and watched as the thrall silently scampered away and returned with requested drink. She watched to make sure that the whiskey was to his liking.

“I have no intention of reducing Paradise to a graveyard, that would completely undo all the work I have put into…my plans,” Sabine eyed her glass as she swirled the blood around. “If the Deo Velonte want to retaliate they are most welcomed to, I know what I am doing and I would appreciate it if the both of you would act as such.” She wasn’t really the type to show the hand of cards she was dealt but maybe showing them a little bit would lower their concerns. Sabine rose from her seat and walked over to her personal guard, Sven, and whispered some instructions before returning to the comfort of her couch.

“Behave yourself,” Sabine gave her sister a nod of approval as she dismissed her to the dance floor. Keeping an eye on the little performance Lottie was giving Varny. I must give that man a raise for putting up with her. Shaking her head, part amusement, part aggravation, she couldn’t help but feel a small smile crack her lips apart. As much as Lottie got under skin Sabine truly did enjoy her sister’s little antics at times.

“Now that my sister has left us we should be able to talk without any more interruptions.” Cracking her neck to relieve the physical tension that built up in her body she let herself sink back into the plush velvet. With the hostility between herself and Dante brushed aside she hoped that the rest of their conversation would go smoothly.

“I hear and understand your concerns, but I would not act the way I do if I wasn’t in total control. Unlike my sister I do understand the weight of taking a life and the complications that can come with it.” As if on cue Sven reentered the refuge of the VIP section, holding multiple manilla folders in his hands.

“My love, your timing is impeccable,” Sabine smiled widely and traded her drink for the folders, “will you have someone get me a refill? I think I am in safe enough company for a little vodka infusion.” While most of the time Sabine found intoxication in blood, if she really wanted to enjoy herself she dabbled in the alcohol infused blood.





“Let’s see what we have here,” Her voice almost sounded giddy as she opened the first file, setting the small stack of the rest beside her. “Ah yes, Ms. Caroline Johnston, the fiery little redhead from earlier,” Sabine pointed at the once blood stained floor where Caroline had expired.

“Twenty-six, divorced, drug addict, no family ties.” Slamming the file shut she tossed it on the glass table in front of her. She began to flip through the rest of the stack quickly.

“Jackson Sears, thirty-eight, released from prison two months ago, no family ties.”

“Melanie Kohler, twenty-one, prostitute, no family ties.”

“Isaiah Cromwell, thirty-four, business man, wife and children, but he is here with a Vampire escort. So he would be off limits.” Gathering the files she placed them on the glass table and flipped her hair behind her shoulders.

“You see gentlemen, like I said I am in my domain. I am not a blood thirsty Vampire on the streets of Paradise hoping to get a quick meal. Before anyone enters Lazarus their ID is checked at the door, scanned and their information put into a file. If I see anyone I want, whether it be as a snack or a play thing or even to continue my supply of blood on tap, they are thoroughly checked. I will leave no trace, no one will be looking for a missed loved one here, no reports of death escape this place because there is no one to report on their behalf.” The explanation of the safety that Lazarus provided not only herself, but the other Vampire’s that entered should hopefully be enough to calm the two men.

“I built this place from the ground up, and I have employed only those with desire to serve and protect me and anyone I extend that grace to.”

“Mistress,” The thrall bowing before her, the new cocktail extending outwards. Sabine graciously took hold of the glass and brought it to her lips, pausing to take a small inhale of the irony substance. “Keep my friends drinks filled until they say they’ve had enough, I’m growing tired of beckoning you to do your job.” The thrall nodded silently and took a position at the end of the couches, their eyes fixed on the glasses in their possession.

“As for the Deo Voletne, I will admit their presence is newer to me and to Paradise, but I am fairly confident that they can be managed. Anything you have on them would be greatly appreciated, myself and my resources at your disposal as well.” Tipping the glass against her open mouth she savored the rush that filled inside her. “I’ve had my eyes on one of them in particular, Thomas Barrett, the Lieutenant. My people have been keeping tabs on him and gathering intel as he continues to make waves in my city.” Sabine’s disdain for the man clear in her expression.

“I am interested to hear both your thoughts on that particular faction and how they should be dealt with.”

Interactions: Loxely , SidTheSkid , Eldarkon | Mentions: zlexis ​

 

[SidTheSkid]

---

[Location: Saint Haddock - East Side, Club Lazarus ]
[Currently: Talking to Sabine and Dante]
[Mood: Slightly fucked up ]

Magnus was a man of many talents, but social cues were not one of them. He had always been a bit dull when it came to warily reading people, preferring to take some things verbally at face value rather than searching for some sort of hidden meaning or insinuation. As a result, he didn't initially realize that Charlotte was 'fascinated' with him, even though the signs were clearly there. It wasn't until he caught her staring at him for some time that he began to wonder if there was something more to her interest? Had he missed a spot while shaving this morning? Did he have something caught in his teeth? Maybe a corn flake got wedged in them while he was eating his favorite grainy cereal and just didn't notice? He did a lot of 'mental gymnastics', skimming through the possible reasons for her intense gaze, feeling a sense of self-consciousness wash over him. Magnus tried not to let his own gaze linger on hers for too long, afraid that it would only make things awkward between them. Instead, he focused his attention on the conversation at hand.

Spoiler: Very long, so the rest will be in a spoiler

The subservient thrall that Sabine had shoo'ed off with Magnus's drink request soon made their way back into the room, Magnus gave an appreciative smile at the sight of the metal platter they were carrying. It was adorned with a whole, full bottle of whiskey and a solid glass filled with the alcohol and several cubes of ice that brought cool condensation gathering at the rim of the cup. Magnus couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude towards the visually wearied and overworked servant. "Thank you," he said warmly, now taking the brimming glass of whiskey and raising it in a toast to the thrall and everyone in the room. But to their surprise, he didn't stop there. He also reached out and grabbed the entire bottle of whiskey, his hand wrapping tightly around the neck and bringing it to his side; Magnus also rudely doused his cigarette on the tray, the ember sizzling out against the metal and undoing the kindness that he showed the thrall, ableit unintentionally.

"Ah, now that's what i'm talking about!"

He'd passionately chirp after he took a surprisingly large swig of the glass, his body feeling the warmth of the alcohol spreading throughout it. The auburned-hued liquid coasted down his throat, giving a sharp burning sensation in its wake. Magnus tried savoring the taste, a bit difficult seeing how fast he was drinking. As he finished his glass and the ice cubes within melted away, leaving a diluded mixture of alcohol and water at the bottom, he'd disregard the cup and lifted the whole bottle of whiskey to his dry lips and took long, deep swigs, feeling the alcohol rush to his head. As he was drinking, Charlotte announced her departure, her boredom being apparent from the ongoing politics that were being had, as shown by the mundane tone she gave. The sound of vampire's heels clicking against the floor after she got up, Magnus was unaware of her approach being that he was still in mid-swig; that was until he felt a sudden jolt of surprise once Charlotte leaned in close to whisper into his ear, almost making him choke on his whiskey.

Those lips of hers were almost brushing against his ear, is if she was about to take a nibble of it. He could feel the soft whisper of her heated breath against his skin, the unsuspecting sensation making goosebumps crawl against his forearms. Her words were hushed, but clear. "Perhaps you can gift me a dance as form of apology." Magnus was known for his composure even in dangerous situations, but the mere suggestion of a dance from an alluring vampire had him flustered and red-faced, albeit that could've just been the inebriation kicking in. He tried to play it off cooly by taking another swig of his drink, but his hand trembled slightly, and he ended up spilling a little of the whiskey on his shirt.

"S-shit."

Fortunately he would not have to say much as Charlotte restated his name, swaying out of the room, and leaving him alone with his frantic thoughts and the half-empty bottle of alcohol; maybe he would take her up on that offer but for now he would had matters to attend to. Magnus was drinking like a fish making it seem like all the alcohol was essentially coursing through his veins; he would've showing signs of being tipsy, with the occasional slurred word and unsteady look in his eyes, yet the alcohol hadn't settled in him enough to show signs of full-blown drunkenness. The conversation had turned to politics, and Dante was speaking to Magnus MacVain, trying to make a point about the recent murders. He was arguing that it didn't matter whether the victims were humans or not, what mattered was the care given to the killings, although there was some truth to that, to Magnus it mattered very much so.

"Yeah, there's no doubt that careful consideration in planning goes a long way to reduce the heat; but to say that it doesn't matter that the victims are Humans? Try tellin' that to the 'Deo Velonte', that's like sayin' that slayin' a Werewolf doesn't matter, I mean sure, it will be more understandin' if they're feral but I doubt whatever pack they may belong to will be giddy hearin' about it."

He clasped his jawline with a single hand and ran it across his rough stubble as he listened to Sabine chime in, informing them both that she had no intention of extinguishing the life in Saint Haddock, being that it would interfere with her plans. As he watched, Sabine received a folder from her personal guard, whom she had whispered to earlier. Magnus raised a brow, intrigued by the contents of the folder. They were personal files. The files contained information about the victims who had most likely lost their lives within this establishment, starting with a woman named Caroline Johnson, whom he had seen bleeding out just earlier. Apparently, she was an addict with no family ties. Sabine continued talking about the victims, there was a pattern, all of them lacking any real ties to family or friends, and their occupations being mostly questionable; It was clear that Sabine had done her research.

Magnus contemplated Sabine's words and the files she had presented. A part of him was impressed by her meticulous planning and the careful consideration of the victims and their connections. But then a troubling thought occurred to him. Did these victims truly deserve their fate? Magnus frowned at the idea, he could only think of what kind of life these people must have had. Perhaps they were individuals who had been dealt a bad hand in life, forced to make difficult choices simply to survive. And now, because of their vulnerability, they were prime targets for a vampire's bloodlust.

"Ugh, M-might I interject? Sabine, first off i'd like to say that your thoroughness is i-impeccable, you definitely stand out from s-some. But isn't a bit cruel? Did these p-people really deserve to be drank like some kinda blood smoothie? I a-actually..."

Magnus hiccuped a bit as the alcohol started to effect him, his words slurred a bit but he was still aware of everything mentally, not totally a blubbering dumbass yet.

"Scuse me, I came here with t-those blood bags earlier 'cause they were donations... N-not much but humans have shown willingness to help if it means n-not dyin."

Magnus struggled to keep a steady mind on the conversation about Deo Volente, the alcohol was REALLY beginning to take its toll on him. His thoughts were muddled and his movements unsteady, the world around him starting to tilt and spin. But amidst the haze, a curious name caught his attention. "Thomas Barett." Magnus struggled to recall why that name sounded familiar, but then it came to him, he once had a dog named Thomas! This leading him to telling a hilarious story which, he realized sounded a bit stupid so he went back to the 'Deo Volente' subject.

"Y-y'know, I had a dog named T-thomas once, and there was this one time he dug into the t-trash, little did he know it was spicy spaghetti night that night.. I never thought a dog's ass could smell so b-bad uh, not that I checked or anythin'. So 'bout this whole 'Deo Volente', I was p-probably gonna go talk to'em see if they can like... Calm the fuck down or somethin'... T-they're not bad people when they aren't killin' things all crusade-y like."

[ Interactions: Loomis , Eldarkon , Loxely ]

---

 

[Athanas]

Jacques would've liked to say that he remained stoic and immovable throughout the interrogation, inspired, perhaps, by his superior's unflappable attitude, but that wasn't quite the case. It wasn't that he was sadistic on a regular basis, you see, but... when it came to such individuals, who thought themselves invincible and untouchable because of such base reasons, well, it was a different story. They were all the same, give or take, thinking that because they could punch hard or move fast or throw lightning, they were made invincible. What short-sightedness! The most important asset in any war was intelligence. Intelligence! And none, none! Were more intelligent than him.

So, despite his efforts, a lot of his far more sinister impulses came to the fore, a worrying grin plastered wide on his features, a cheery giggle leaving his lips whenever he was ordered to inflict more pain. He was frankly disappointed that it didn't last much longer. The information revealed was of course of great importance, and his memory neatly filed them away for later use, but in the moment, he was so taken by the reveling in victory that he didn't give Tom an answer, instead quickly moving forward to take him up on the offer of killing the creature. He unclasped the gold cross from his neck, putting it against the throat of the creature, which squirmed and writhed in anguish. With a swift motion of his hand, the bar into her neck began to pull upwards, applying force to the base of her skull.

"Predator of humanity, huh?" He taunted, in the same way that a particularly cruel kid would taunt a snail as he poured salt on it. "A less-advised course of action, there never has been. Dozens upon dozens of now-extinct species could tell you exactly what the fate of all those who prey upon humans is."

If she had a particularly scathing response, the incredible agony she was in prevented her from vocalizing it. Painstakingly, her regeneration weakened and weakened from exposure to the sanctified object. And the more it weakened, the stronger the pull of the metal became. After less than a minute, with a disgusting, wet sound, her head came clean off, and the writhing finally stopped. Jacques laughed excitedly at the sight, moving back to the lieutenant and giving him a playful bump on the shoulder. "I guess you could say her attack was a pretty...bone-headed move, eh?"

The terrible pun elicited another round of almost hysterical laughing, as if the beheading was the funniest inside joke he'd heard in a while. However, he eventually got himself under control, although his smile could not be suppressed. "Right, right...The folder" He opened it with a swift motion, handing it over to Tom. It had the footage of the security cameras near the area of the murder. "Unfortunately, Identification proved untenable, however, we have both an approximate time of death, with a margin of error of about 58 seconds, and we know that this was an action taken by only a single perpetrator, whose approximate height and build we can infer through lab analysis of the footage. A good start, I think."

Now that his analytical mind was booting up again, the information was processed, and it was a worrying conclusion. His boss talked about fish in a barrel, which could very well be the case...were they equipped with ordnance and overwhelming force. However, individually, at least one of the sisters and Dante were very potent combatants. Moreover, it was probable with an astounding 98.4% probability that there would be more occult creatures present at Club Lazarus, and less than a 3.2% chance that the on-site security would not fight loyally at the side of the owners.

These were no fish in a barrel. These were killer whales in a fortified enclosure. He would never attempt this if it was up to him, but to show hesitation now would more than likely seem suspect in the eyes of his boss.

"Well, Sir, I'm not sure I share your enthusiasm, but I do believe I may have a way for us to infiltrate the location without raising any alarms. Let us meet on-site in about...twenty-five? I need to get to my van and make a few preparations."


Just because one has to step into the wolf's den, does not mean one also has to not be prepared.

---

He kept going over the plan. The odds were, unfortunately, not improving, no matter how many times he repeated the calculations. Also, the splitting headache that had come as a result of very narrowly avoiding water toxemia was not helping. Still, the boss was still here, and that meant they were still going through with this. He groaned, stepping out of the shadows from where he'd been taking a moment to interface with the club's CCTV and going up to Tom, simplifying everything in his mind in order to be, hopefully, understood the first time.


"Alright Sir. Before I begin, let me state for the record-this is incredibly dangerous. Extreme caution will be mandatory...."

A momentary pause, looking for any indication that he was coming to his senses. Nope. Ah, fuck it. In for a penny, in for a pound. He retrieved a tablet from his backpack, booting it up and tilting it so Tom could also see the display.

"This is a rough floorplan of the building, not accounting for any secret passages that aren't monitored. Security is stationed here, here, and here....Of course, given that the club is open currently, one could just waltz in through the front...and in fact, that is my intent."

From a pocket, he retrieved a fake id. He kept a lot of those around. You never know when you'll need em...

For you, sir, however, such an option only gives us a projected 23% chance of success. Given your status as a governmental agent of import, it is not unlikely that there could be some corrupt element amongst the less fanatical of our sources that could have divulged your identity. As a result, you have a high probability of being recognized, even if under some form of false identification. Thusly, we moved onto the secondary option."

On the tablet, he zoomed in what seemed to be a back entrance. "The system here is quite strong" It technically wasn't a lie-the owner clearly cared about security greatly. It just didn't matter to him. "However, I have managed to find a back door-a metaphorical one, sir, the physical one was not quite hidden. In exactly four minutes time from my entry, Feedback Loop will be initiated on the cameras guarding that area, and the electronic lock will be rendered null. Should you manage to then also bypass this pair of guards that are precisely...here, that should bring you in. Be advised, that would put you in staff-only areas, which would make stealth imperative.


He gave his superior a look-over, and gave him a pat on the shoulder, trying to gauge if he'd gotten all that. Satisfied to see that the lieutenant was not, in fact, as bone-headed as he seemed, he gave him a mock-salute for good luck, waited a few moments to catch any parting remarks, and then moved in. As expected, the identification worked just fine-and why wouldn't it? Jacques wasn't any kid of major player. Everything was going just fine....

And then the music hit him like a ton of bricks, and he found himself suddenly amidst a veritable sea of people. Oh no, no, no. Jacques was great at a lot of things, but navigating the noisy parts of nightlife was absolutely not one of them.

He tried to remain focused, doing his best impression of being relaxed here. It wasn't a particularly impressive charade, but it might fool the drunkards. He kept his eyes open for occult creatures, and, more specifically, the occult creatures they'd come here to find.

It should be fine, he reminded himself, desperately fighting off sensory overload. You know what they look like. They can't exactly sneak up on you.


zlexis Loxely

 

[DarkKitsune]

SILVERMIST CEAROS
LOCATION: SILVER’S POTIONS AND ODDITIES
INTERACTIONS: OPEN

With her customer's final words, she felt a shiver down her spine when she left. She put away the money. Confused about what she meant, it did come off weird, she’ll admit. She saw the woman's name on the card: ‘Kate Grey’. She tossed the business card aside, confused about why it had been given to her even. The customer was a strange one. She also thought back about the weird order she’d received.



‘Wolfsbane does have some medical uses. I think it just has to be handled with care and loads of caution. Holy water used to be used to bless items and houses for religious reasons before vampires came about. And wood can be used for literally anything.’ She thought to herself. ‘So maybe it wasn’t exactly strange..hopefully’



She tossed those thoughts to the side as she grabbed her log book and did some calculations.



‘I’ll gather plants and chemicals first, considering they are the most difficult and what I lack most at the moment. I’ll scratch 5 days for that and 3 days for brewing more medicine and whatever else. which means… starting tomorrow I’ll close up shop for the next 8 days to restock everything.’



When she was done with that, she put her log book away and just sat there keeping an eye on everything like before,not thinking back about the strange encounter.​

 

[Eldarkon]

Dante listened to Sabine's words with interest, silently admiring her confidence and intelligence. He knew firsthand how difficult it was to keep a group of vampires under control, but Sabine seemed to have mastered it. He also appreciated her willingness to offer her resources and assistance in dealing with the Deo Velonte, despite their conflicting interests. He understood her desire to protect her own kind, and he was impressed with the measures she had taken to ensure the safety of her patrons.

"I am impressed. I apologize for my harsh comments earlier. You are obviously a step ahead of the game Miss DeLormè," Dante said, nodding in approval, giving her a playful smile "Your precautions are impressive, and I have no doubt that Club Lazarus is a safe haven for vampires and humans alike. However, Magus raises a valid point. We must be careful not to provoke the Deo Voletne, as they are a powerful force to be reckoned with."

He took a sip from his glass and considered her question about the Deo Voletne. Dante had encountered the faction before and knew they could be a formidable opponent if provoked. However, he also knew that Sabine was not one to back down from a challenge.

"I have had run-ins with the Deo Voletne in the past," Dante said, his voice low and measured. Dante took another sip of his drink "I have some information on them that may prove useful in managing their presence in Paradise. They are a zealous group, fiercely dedicated to their cause and willing to go to great lengths to achieve their goals. They operate with a level of secrecy and sophistication that is uncommon among human organizations, which makes them a difficult target. As I said before, they are a powerful force, but they can be dealt with if approached carefully. We must be cautious not to provoke them, as that will only lead to more bloodshed. But at the same time, we cannot let the fear of their violent retaliation dictate our actions. We must be strategic in our approach and use our resources wisely, and gather as much intel as possible before making any moves."

Dante paused, taking another sip from his glass. "As for Thomas Barrett, I have heard of him. He is a dangerous man and should be approached with caution. His flame control powers make him complicated to deal with. But I have no doubt that with your resources and my expertise, we can neutralize him and any other threats. We may even be able gather more intel on the Deo Velonte through him," He looked at Sabine, a sense of respect and admiration in his eyes. "You have built something truly remarkable here, Sabine. I am honored that you have agreed to be in partnership". Dante then tenderly took her hand and kissed her ring.

Tags: Loxely SidTheSkid Loomis zlexis

 

[zlexis]

Thomas Barrett​

TW: violence, decapitation, death​

Eastside
Dark alleyway beside the pub

Another successful encounter. Tom had no doubt in his mind that this would be the outcome. He was a force to be reckoned with. He made the ashes in his wake. Any to challenge him now would be suicide, so, why not take the fight to them? The adrenaline from the fight still pumped through his veins; it was an addicting sensation and one he was glad to share with the other Deo Velonte. Jacques was quick to jump on his proposition of taking over. With a gleeful laugh, the man took great care in separating the vampire's head from her body. The movement looked mechanical--and ever slightly off--and Tom wondered if it was habitual. Like a bottle of champagne on New Year's Eve, the head popped from the body and splattered her warm blood across both the walls and, unfortunately, the lieutenant. He scoffed, mentally berating himself for standing so close, while Jacques, who delighted in his humor, started cracking jokes that would make even his father cringe.

Tom did not laugh, as his own sense of humor had long since flown the coop. Caught fraternizing with anyone of lower ranking, and his position and authority would be put into question. So, Tom glared at Jacques. Maybe he'd take the hint, but he didn't keep his hopes up. No credit to Tom's death glare, but the man did calm down eventually and jumped right into business. The folder was passed along, and he opened it up eagerly.

'Good work,' lay heavy and unsaid on his tongue. No, there was no point to praise. Any man who was confident enough in his own abilities would have no need of encouragement. He could tell Jacques was talented, insightful, and intelligent. A man of his caliber would be suited for his position, he thought proudly.

"Well, Sir, I'm not sure I share your enthusiasm, but I do believe I may have a way for us to infiltrate the location without raising any alarms. Let us meet on-site in about...twenty-five? I need to get to my van and make a few preparations."

"Let's get on with it, then," he said in place of kinder words, "I used up a bit of my holy water in that fight, so I'm fixing to restock and patch some wounds before we reconvene. Stay in contact, and don't die on the way there."

Before making his leave, Tom positioned himself in front of the vampire. Her head lay not even a couple of feet from her legs, with eyes wide open and hair coated in blood plastered against her cheekbones. He stood, mesmerized, and then looked over his shoulder to his left. Her victim, the drunken man whose body had long since gone cold, was in a similar sorry state. Like lovers, he dragged them together until they were tangled in a three-part heap.

"May you live in peace this day..."

He said his prayers, the flames consumed, and he was done. But not nearly finished. No, he wouldn't be finished until every vampire joined this beautiful display. His creation. Without sparing a second glance, he left wordlessly from the alleyway and back onto the streets of the so-called Paradise City towards what could be the end of all this madness.

---

One minute passed. One fleeting minute stretched over eternity as Tom waited in anticipation on the rooftop of Club Lazarus. Of course, what Jacques had failed to mention about this back entrance was that it required scaling the side of the building. Add rain, slippery ledges, and the vibrations from the music and he couldn't claim he had the best of times. But urgency compelled, and he was up on the roof in mere moments.

Two minutes. He now stood by the door of the roof, and just as promised, the entrance flaunted a high-tech lock. He rested his ear on the door and listened. A couple of people. Guarding, patrolling, likely armed (with either fang or bullet). He pulled away, his brain formulating plans faster than he could think.

Three minutes. Tom closed his eyes and breathed in. Out. Again. 'Again'. He could do this. There was nothing to fear, things feared him. Again, again, again.

Four minutes. Click. The electronic door powered down, and Tom burst into action. He was still too damp to utilize his flames after scaling the roof, so he relied on his skills as a vampire hunter. A loyal dog to the Deo Velonte. He did not allow the guards even a second to think as he burst through the door and swung his wooden stake into the nearest one's heart. Vampire or not, they were in his way, and this was a surefire method to end it quickly when there was no time to stop and confirm. However, his luck did not remain on his side. The other guard, dressed too fashionably for the run-down exterior, jumped on his back with the speed of a bullet and sunk his fangs into Tom's shoulder. He let out a muted cry of pain, before flipping the now-confirmed bloodsucker onto his back. Tom said a couple of expletives as the vampire spun around and jumped back to his feet, not allowing a moment's breath before he was on top of him again. This time, Tom was not here for theatrics and had no need to draw this out, so he jumped back, swung his sword, and sliced the head from the vampire in one clean motion. Just as the fight had started, it stopped with the thump of a head rolling to his feet, but it still left Tom gasping with exertion.

"Yes, Jacques. Just bypass the guards. Easy-peasy." He pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration, noting the pain emanating from his shoulder. "Damnit..."

There was not a moment to waste. He rifled their pockets and pulled out a couple of valuables. The most interesting one was a keycard, but he hadn't an idea what it opened yet. He pocketed it and got to work. Blood oozed and trickled down his arm and stained his jacket, all thanks to his sloppiness. Said shoulder cried in pain when he lifted the bodies, dragged them to the edge, and hefted them into the bushes below. He sighed, and ducked back into Club Lazarus, only stopping briefly to add quick bandages to his wound. Nothing said this job would be easy, as this was a common occupational hazard.

After walking down some stairs, he peeked his head out some doors to the top floor. This wasn't Hawthorn, for sure. Would it kill the vampires to light a candle, or open a window for the stuffiness? Still, he was undeterred from his mission at hand. Get some intel, call for more Deo Velonte after he's burned through a few, then turn this place into rubble and ashes.

Easy as one, two, and three.

He continued, eager to check out the rooms, of which there were many within this vampire lair. There was no doubt that this place housed some incredibly powerful vampires, and who knows what else crawling about. The illustrious Sabine made her name here, but her sister wasn't anyone to snide at. Both were cunning, and manipulative and would stop at nothing to get what they wanted. He had to be on guard for either. Add the Crimson Tear's crime boss, and it was a recipe for trouble. If he was lucky, he was one step closer to finding the murderer of his family. Either way, there was no going back.

---

Character Reference
Interactions: Athanas | Mentions: Eldarkon | Loomis | Loxely

 

[thinking]

[tainn, elu]-[west side, lucky dave's bar]-[interactions- Sepokku / werewolves ]

Dani’s reasonably lax demeanour sent waves of repulsion through the Alpha’s nerves, signalling echoes of rebellion. However many times her senses related such differences, Elu had to remind herself that the former outsider was now a valuable member of the Pack with her abilities there was much to balance. The crumpled image piqued much attention from the whole group with Elu slinking aside through an open clearing. It was hard to see, the blurred image was quite unobvious yet vital with the investigation.

“Thank you, Dani… All I can say for now is that it is interesting. The victim seems not to face any form of distress…” She hooked an arm on her hip, with the other she gently took the image from Dani’s hand. “It would be wise to hand this image over to an authority… How did you get a hold of it?” Elu questioned Dani, keeping her gaze level without any hint of hostility.

Elu had visible lines of age sagging below her under eye; taut and thin wrinkles of skin brought by strain. This only added to her undeniably fierce temperament though, which still continued to boil. Pack meetings, such as this one, brought a ripple of stress akin to a radioactive acid. It was sour and unmatched by deadliness; one spillage could lead to a complete collapse of the hierarchy. The Alpha’s sense of security had shrunk as small as a nest of ants; writhing and furious and she could not help but be reminded.

---

3 years ago told a spectacular scene! Those alternating shades of red danced slick under the moonlight, stylish with torment and beautiful like a rose bursting free its petals from the bud. Yet it was not artful- the way the scarlet smeared her lips was messy and the uncontrolled tearing of his face as she guzzled her fill of flesh. She was as ravenous with greed akin to a baby on their mother’s breast: instinctive... Raw… Natural. The frenzied mind of the predator had settled and her dilated pupils shrunk into cuts with her amber-red eyes sated and doped. Almost as quickly as it had begun, the euphoria had settled and humanity reconciled itself to pure dread.

She loved him yet still she had killed him. To blame the vampires for Finley's death was as sinful as the act of manslaughter itself...

 

[Loxely]

The rays of lights casted down from the makeshift catwalks, shining beams over the crowd with a multitude of colors. Mounted machines spewed a fog over the dancers. The air is thick with the smell of sweat, perfume, and most troubling - blood. The DJ stands on a makeshift stage, surrounded by giant speakers and decks, mixing the next track to keep the energy of the room to a max. The dance floor is packed, with bodies moving together in perfect synchronization.

Amidst the chaos of the crowded club, there danced the delicate silhouette of Lottie. She moves gracefully, swaying to the music with a sense of abandonment for the world around her. Her movements are fluid and natural, as if the rhythm of the bass is an extension of her own body. Despite the packed dance floor, she seems to be in her own world, dancing as if no one is watching. Her eyes are closed, and a serene smile spreads across her face as she loses herself in the music. Her hair, a cascade of golden locks, bounce with her movements. That pearlescent dress catching the hues from the lights above. Her supple lengthy arms raised above her head, elegantly twirling her wrists while her dainty fingers joined the thoughtful dance.

Eventually, the song ends, and the blonde girl opens her eyes, her smile still present. She takes a deep breath, and as if coming out of a trance. To only see Varney glaring down at her, a wave of concern flooded his normal blank expression while he listened intently into his earpiece. The man in question is an imposing figure, standing at over six and a half feet tall with a body that seems to be chiseled from stone, now showed some vulnerability with his expression. While the ever unmistakable pout of Lottie's bottom lip pursed out, "What?" She seethed through a clench jaw, that serene demeanor washed away almost instantly. Varney leaned into Lottie's vicinity and whispered the knowledge he recently received. Explaining there was a confirmed infiltration of two very brave, yet very stupid Deo Volente. One of them being being identified as their Lieutenant, Thomas Barrett.

"What a pleasant surprise." Lottie purred as she reflected on this information, "Describe him to me, Varney." Though he was resistant at first and argued that Lottie should regroup with Sabine until further instructions. Craning her head, towards his as he remained bent towards her small stature. A slick lick of her top lip, she oozed with wicked desires, "Describe him to me, in detail." Knowing well enough the other security have fallen witness to this perpetrator. But Varney did her one better, aware of her unique power's capabilities. Removing his cellphone, he was able to access a brief glimpse of Thomas through a security camera before it ultimately glitched out. Lottie mentally took in as much details of his demographics as possible, noting his apparel, facial features, hair and even the wounded shoulder. "That's plenty, thank you dear."

With a captivating grin, Lottie's eyes reflected that of a deranged lunatic. Those once gentle pale blue irises were consumed with a piercing red hue, much like her sister's. A shroud of darkness emerged along her porcelain skin, tendrils appeared from the thick of it and tightly embraced her. As this phenomenon consumed her, she carefully took a few steps into the swarm of the crowd. The intoxicated patrons paying no mind as she disappeared amongst them. Varney stood rather flabbergasted, scanning over the crowd for Lottie know well enough she was not to be found. Speaking carefully into his earpiece, he departed to go assist with his fellow security to contain this breach before not only the patrons, but Sabine finds out.

The figure stepping out of the crowd was no longer little Lottie. Stroking some fingers through her new short brunette hair, brushing them out of her face. Running that same palm along the scruffiness of a subtle beard, her appearance almost down to a tee was no other than Thomas Barrett. Looking over the crowd with her fresh pair of eyes, she took in a rather hefty inhale. A delighted smile appeared across the makeshift Tom's face.

A particularly nervous looking man stood like a stick in the mud, making it rather peculiar for Lottie. Tugging at the collar of her leather coat, pulling down the cuffs of it's sleeves and lastly rolling her neck until she felt that satisfying 'crack'. This façade of Thomas made way towards the man who seemed to almost be drowning with fear. Lottie placed an affirming grip of her now rather masculine hand onto the shoulder of this man, "The hard part is over, let's get to work." The voice emulated an attempt of generic male's tone, having not heard it herself, Lottie could only hope the loud music would further mask the illusion and this agent would not become suspicious. While her other hand nursed the feigned wounded shoulder to continue the 'act' she was putting on.

interactions | Athanas mentions | Loomis zlexis

 

[Loomis]

That’s more like it, Sabine thought to herself as a sly smile spread across her lips while she listened to Dante soften towards her. Now that he wasn’t angry and brooding she found him quite pleasant to look at, or maybe that was the effects of the alcohol infusion talking. Swirling the remnants of her glass she tossed it back against her dark lips and finished the glass, extending her pale arm out and tapped the glass with her fingernail. The thrall wasted no time in appearing with a fresh glass and took the empty one before returning to their little corner.

“Yes, the little fiery bastard does pose a threat, as do the rest of them. I have a few ideas in mind as to how I’d like to handle them, but -” Sabine was cut off by Magnus who was obviously enjoying the endless supply of liquor, a bit too much for the Vampire’s taste. She had to admit that it was amusing to see him so intoxicated. She couldn’t remember the feeling of being so inebriated, she hadn’t let loose like that in decades. Staring at the man with an almost envious look she listened to him ramble on.

“Enjoying yourself?” She asked and let out a slight chuckle, “Why don’t we continue our conversation tomorrow when you aren’t…preoccupied.” Lifting a single finger to point at the whiskey bottle in his grasp. Usually such behavior would irritate Sabine, but with Dante throwing compliments at her she was appeased for the time being.

“I do believe my sister asked you for a dance, I wouldn’t recommend turning her down.” Sabine extended her gaze beyond the curtains to catch a few glimpses of Lottie moving rhythmically to the dark bass thumping through the club. She did like the idea of setting something else up to get blood, but not to fully replace Lazarus. Willingly donated blood without having to work for it, even though she barely did, would definitely be an idea to consider. In her younger years she had run “blood drives” and it did yield a decent profit, but nothing to the magnitude that Lazarus did. Plus where was the fun in donated blood?

"You have built something truly remarkable here, Sabine. I am honored that you have agreed to be in partnership"

Dante's entrancing voice beckoned her attention back to him. Turning her eyes back to Dante she was met with a look of admiration as he reached for her hand. Sabine’s eyes flashed red with satisfaction as he took her hand in his and kissed the large blood diamond on her finger.




“Trust me when I say, Mr. Wolfbane, the pleasure is all mine,” Sabine leaned in close to him a salacious grin spread across her angular features. Just as she opened her mouth to say something borderline inappropriate Sven stepped into her field of view. Probably for the best, she took her eyes off Dante but remained in her forward position.

“Yes?” Sabine arched a brow at the stoic man.

“We have a problem.” The second the words left his mouth Sabine growled under her breath.

“Do excuse me, gentlemen.” Uncrossing her legs she stood up and slunk over to her trusty guard. Running a hand up his tie she pulled him down to her ear and listened to the words he whispered to her. Deo Volente in MY club?! She could feel the rage building up inside her, whatever buzz she had was long gone.

“I’ll handle it. Have your men on stand by,” Her voice cold and vengeful. Turning on the heels of her large platform shoes she pinched the bridge of her nose. “If I do not return before you make your departure for the evening I would like to see you both here tomorrow. My men will escort you to my room.” She instructed Magnus and Dante, she was unsure if Magnus would remember this conversation and made a mental note to track him down tomorrow if needed.

Sabine set her unfinished drink on the glass table and disappeared out of the VIP section, Sven not far behind her. Her eyes scanned the crowd for her target. How dare they, slaughtering two of her men and entering the club without permission was unforgivable. She had to remind herself to keep a cool head, ripping them to shreds was not in her new business dealings best interest.

“There you are,” Moving around a crowd of people she approached the Warlock from behind, taking hold of his bare wrist and forcefully spun him around. Her piercing red eyes locked onto his and she tightened her grip, her pointed nails digging into his skin.

“Don’t move, don’t call out for help.” Her command wrapped around the inner workings of his mind as her manipulation sunk in. Flashing her fangs at him she pulled the man close to her as she studied his face.

“Aren’t you a little far from home?” Sabine ran her hand up his arm and brushed some hair out of his face. “If you wanted to get my attention, you have it, although you might regret it.” She slinked around the man, now standing behind him she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Her mind racing with how she wanted to proceed. She had to assume that he was with backup or they at least knew he was here. Ending the fire wielder where he stood was probably not the ideal move, especially since she just agreed to keep a cool head for her new business partner. The red lights bouncing around them, something in the distance caught her attention. Perfect. She leaned over his shoulders and took hold of his face, forcing him to look at her once again.

“Stay,” the command came out as if she was instructing a pet dog. With a wink she slipped away into the crowd they were mixed in. In a matter of seconds she pushed her way past the oblivious party goers and to her destination. The bold letters engraved on the metal box calling out to her; FIRE ALARM. Without hesitation she firmly gripped the handle and pulled down sending the club into a slight panic.

Loud and obnoxious sirens cut the music dead in its tracks, in between the blaring noise a robotic voice chimed out “FIRE. PLEASE EXIT. FIRE. PLEASE EXIT.” The club doors illuminated themselves with a bright blue and white flashing light to guide the inebriated safely outside. Shortly after the alarms the sprinkler system activated, drenching every inch of the club. Sabine looked up at the ceiling to watch the water fall from the sprinkler heads and onto the club floor. Slicking back her wet icy locks she took a deep breath to center herself before making her way back to Thomas.

“It was a bit too congested for my liking, I want you all to myself.” Sabine called out in a teasing manner as she closed the space between the two of them.

“I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced, Thomas Barret,” she slowly began to circle the man as she rejoined him. “My name is Sabine DeLormè, but I’m sure you already know that,” she hissed in his ear as she made a loop around the back side of him.

“Now tell me, what the fuck are you doing in my club.”

Interactions: Eldarkon , SidTheSkid , zlexis |Mentions: Loxely​

 

[Lee Urker]

Downtown 2134
Vicinity of A Bookstore

Lanky, sunken cheeked, and a five o'clock shadow Lee set himself to be a relatively boring individual. At his age, he at least has a full head of hair. Long overcoat framing grayed slacks on long legs with that sensible fold tailored just above the ankle showing the once ornate thread spacing the distance to an old pair of wing-tipped Oxford shoes, one bouncing in the lazy cross of the calf to knee in old dark caramel leather. This short glance and none may find Lee well dressed. However the age of these items, their disheveled appearance somewhere between it's time to launder and at least he isn't stomping in puddles existing in limbo.

There were puddles plenty for the older man as he grunted, shifting in that cheap cafe street front chair as its curved iron legs groaned unevenly on cracked cobble pavers. Lee's hand pulled that long coat tighter over the matching gray vest matching in fabric to the jacket he wore with four wooden buttons, none closed to showcase that older off-white dress shirt and amusing naval blue tie, small gold lines evenly spaced tastefully.

Lacking justification further from onlookers sufficient remarkable details would seem to fit a man who sat in the rain, chain-smoking while reading some illustrious tome with a frayed spine and stupidly oiled green hard-cover stripped of livery for obvious reasons, surely.

Cigarette propped between little finger, and ring finger rose to let filter rest between pursed lips when he drew in, one eye squinting as smoke hazed his down casted look to pages in irritation like Smaug sniffing out a Hobbit smoke would jet through nostrils in detest at the inconvenience. Of course, he wouldn't quit smoking as the page turned, stick of aroused addiction pulled with flicking ash to settle away from his book, wrist propped lazily hung over armrest letting that dwindling trail of smoke lift up into nothing.

Mr. Urker, resident of apparently it never stops raining and 6th Ave. Or more commonly, the bookstore six blocks from the Amazon warehouse where you can buy a Kindle for sixty bucks and pirate every book known to man. Even that book.

As that page turned, Lee narrowed his expression pensively, finger delicately pressing to the lines of text. "Things go dark. I don't mind but, getting sleepy. It's okay, an old man dies. A little girl lives. Fair trade"

He did have a thing for knowledge, that was tangible and boy did the dirty brown-haired man look like he had something kin to it to the discrete, and educated individual.

 

[SidTheSkid]

---

[Location: Saint Haddock - East Side, Club Lazarus ]
[Currently: ??? ]
[Mood: What? ]

Magnus sat perched on the edge of the leather composed seat, his hands clasping together in a modest display of attentiveness as he vaguely hunched forward to feel more engaged in the conversation. He listened intently to the impressive comments circulating from Dante Wolfbane's, it was relieving to know that his conciliatory suggestions hadn't been outright dismissed as mere foolishness; Dante acknowledging Magnus's concerns and affirming the potential danger of provoking the Deo Volente, his presumable aspirations of not wanting to evoke an aggressive response from them brought a sense of cautious hope to the Coven Leader. However, his next insinuiation that gathering information might help them better understand their foe had some ambiguity to it; though undoubtedly a wise choice as it would gain a deeper understanding of this organization, there wasn't any doubt in Magnus's mind that whatever crucial details that might be obtained would be put to use in less-than-peaceful ways.

Magnus absently fidgeted his feet around in his boots, the gristle of his outsole 'clacking' against the polished marbled floor as the conversation segued itself back to Deo Volente's conspicuous fire-wielding warlock, Thomas Barret. Hearing his name again jogged Magnus's memories a tad, he had heard whispers throughout the underworld of an anonymous individual and their fiery escapades; the unmistakable scorch marks around the ocassional pile of Vampiric ashes being a testament of this, putting two and two together, it was plausible that he was the one responsible. The suggestion to neutralize Barret, of course, didn't bode too well with Magnus, yet, the context of which mattered a lot and if it came down to self-preservation then Magnus wouldn't exactly grieve if one or the other killed each other, but there'd always be a rippeling after-effect regardless.

The slurred speech that must've been congested with the stench of alcohol had attracted some amusment from Sabine, albeit her rhetorical question had an inkling of subtle judgement to it. “Enjoying yourself? Magnus swallowed hard in response, trying to visibly shake his head in hopes of clearing the drunken haze clouding his mind, all the while her tickled giggle caressed his ears. There was twinge of embarrassment at the query, Magnus was here on important matters and he allowed his earlier drinking at the bar to compound with the whiskey he was having in the VIP room, it felt as if he had blundered his introduction because of the sorry condition he was now in, stumbling over his words and made a fool of himself in front of Sabine.

"S-sorry Sabine, I really s-shouldn't of drank earlier... Thought i-it wouldn't hit me that hard. Y-yeah, that's probably a good idea, wouldn't wanna m-make your sister mad. "

Magnus let out a remorseful exhale, it was now that he was able to distinguish the earlier spill of whiskey staining the front of his attire, adding to the sense of shame that washed over him. With a clumsy hand, he diligently wiped his mouth, brushing away a smudge of alcohol that overstayed its welcome on his lips. Sabine's later suggestion of going to dance with Charlotte sounded like a welcome reprieve, a decent chance to make amends for his earlier missteps. Despite his unsteady gait, Magnus managed to rise from his seat, grasping the table in front of him for support as he found his footing. He knew that the graceful moves of a dance might prove challenging in his current state, but he was willing to try if it meant salvaging what was left of his laughable reputation. With a sense of determination, Magnus placed the now empty bottle of whiskey on the same table he used for leverage. With an unsteady hand he fixed his loosened tie then took a deep breath, hoping to stable his nerves; he knew that this was his chance to make things right, and he wasn't about to let it slip away.

He'd only remain for but a moment, long enough to watch Sabine quickly excuse herself, the knock of her heels fading off into the distance as she departed from the VIP section in a hurry. The urgency in her voice made it was clear that whatever was going on, it was important; Magnus didn't really pry, probably some business affairs of hers, he'd be sure to bestow his partings to Dante before facing Charlotte on the dance floor, but first, he would have to freshen up and wash away some intoxication from his psyche.

"I-it was nice, meetin ya Wolfsbane. K-keep safe now.. Until then."

Once motioning a kind nod of the head to Wolfsbane, showing a small sign of mutual respect to the crime lord, Magnus would've weaved his way out through the dimly lit VIP room, the pulsing music thumping in his head as well as his thoughts as he shifted through the velvet curtain divider, this whole night was beginning to feel like a bitter aftertaste, a reminder of his lacking self-control. Mixed fragrances of perfume, cologne, and sweat from the club vacated his nostrils after making his way into the men's bathroom, a welcome retreat for his nose; the weight of his own inebriation was bearing down on him, like a heavy anchor with chains that couldn't be broken and relieved from his body. Magnus's vision was slightly blurred, the edges of his vision shimmering like a heat haze, but he kept himself looking ahead as he continued forward to the row of sinks. Stepping in front of a counter with ceramic bowl hosted within, Magnus reached over to turn the faucet on, letting the cool water splash into the ivory basin before cupping his hands under the running liquid and splashing it over his face in an attempt to clear his head.

The water was a soothing balm, washing away some of his regrets and the nagging sense of embarrassment; as Magnus lifted his head to view his wet complexion, he noticed his weathered reflection in the mirror that was already staring at him, it replicated his very appearance, through his tousled hair and glazed over eyes, he could still see the sharp features of his face, yet, this illusionary doppelganger of him was moving on its own and it's foreboding stare locked with his.

This wasn't right... Something was happening... Time felt frozen for him... What was going on?

---

 

[zlexis]

Thomas Barrett
​

Club Lazarus

Tom crouched low and explored the winding corridors of the upstairs Club Lazarus. The lion’s den. Every corner he turned, he waited and listened before moving ahead. The way he’d come seemed less maintained than the rest of the building, with some water leaks slipping through the cracks of the ceiling. He crept along the edges, keeping mindful of his breathing, until he came upon the doors of a couple of rooms in a row, the paint and plaster enthralling his attention. They were well taken care of, and decorated to match the personalities of their owners. Across, he saw the elevator. He cradled his wound and waited. Calculating.

The elevator dinged, and Tom crouched low behind the corner. Voices grew, chattering and slurring speech until they slowly dissipated down the hall. He took his chance, and rushed to the first room on the right, only to be bounced back by a locked door.

He had a moment of surprise, and annoyance, before remembering what he’d found on the bodies of the guards. He procured the keycard and placed it against the mechanism, wishing Jacques was here to work his magic. To his extreme satisfaction, it clicked open, and he slipped inside. The door clicked shut behind him.

Alone in this room, Tom took a moment to take in his surroundings. On one side, there was a plush, velvet bed you could sink into, adjacent to a luxurious bathroom. There was evidence of a shower taken recently, with a silk robe and damp towels discarded on the marble floor. On the other side, there was an ornate chest of drawers. The loft in its entirety was fancier than anything Hawthorne could accomplish. The whole place reeked of old money. He pulled out his phone and snapped a couple of pictures.

He beelined for the side tables and drawers, rifling through them, looking for something he could weaponize against the vampires. Jewelry, hidden weapons, old-fashioned photos. He scoffed. How many black latex clothes can one woman own?

With interest, he flipped through the photos, his callused thumb treating the yellow and wrinkled paper harshly. Just as he finished admiring a photo of two women dressed in matching burlesque outfits, he caught a glimpse of the next photo, and his heart collapsed.

He knew this face. Painful memories flashed through his mind. His sister, her smile, her cute little dimple on the right side of her face. Sweet Luciana, torn into three parts. He gagged, clamping his palm over his mouth. The face in this photo matched his family’s killer, from his three-piece suit to his arrogant smile. The man’s arm wrapped tightly around a woman’s petite frame, with waves of platinum blonde cascading over her black dress.

As much as he wanted to glare at the photo until it caught fire (in a literal sense), he folded it twice and slid it into his inner jacket pocket.

A sudden worrying thought crossed his mind; he hadn’t heard from Jacques in a while, despite their promise to stay in contact as much as possible. He let out a small curse under his breath, left the room as it was, and hastily made his way to the bottom floor of Club Lazarus.

—

Tom entered the embrace of music and iniquity. Dancers dressed in skin-tight clothes moved erotically in their cages, with lights cascading upon the crowd. Ember eyes scanned the room, over their heads, looking for any semblance of his fellow Deo Velonte. He’d never forgive himself if something happened to him. Tom got what he wanted, and was ready to fall back if needed.

He pulled out his phone and texted Jacques ‘Whr r u’ when a slender hand grabbed his wrist and spun him around. He was halfway into burning her perfectly manicured claws when he made his first, and possibly last, mistake.

He looked into her eyes.

She was lovely, her words had sweet vanilla undertones, spoken from lips of midnight. What was she saying? It didn’t quite matter, did it? He moved in closer, because he wanted to, or she wanted him to, and he obliged. Her teeth were pretty and glowed in the stage lights. He knew, at that moment, that he would kill to see that smile again. Tom never thought he had attractive teeth, nothing like hers. Nothing compared to her. Then she brushed his hair from his face, and Tom shivered, mind going blank. What was he thinking again?

“Stay,” she requested sweetly, and Thomas was nothing but a gentleman. Who’d deny this illustrious lady her wishes? A madman, for certain, someone who wasn’t right in the head.

For a moment, he was shocked out of his stupor as water soaked him from the ceiling. It was just raining outside, and now it rained inside too? He watched passively as the people left with a chorus of groans from being soaked. He thought he should go, too. But that isn’t what the lady wanted. He bit his cheek until it bled. Finally, the lady reappeared by his side, and it was like he could breathe fresh air. She began an orbit around him, whispering words like a dream into his ear.

“I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced, Thomas Barrett. My name is Sabine DeLormè, but I’m sure you already know that. Now tell me, what the fuck are you doing in my club.”

For the third time that night, he smiled cheekily, dimples stretching across his face. He let out a chuckle like they were old friends sharing an inside joke. He thought of all the things he could say, maybe in a way that would impress her, but he knew a woman like her only wanted information that was sweet and to the point.

“I am here to kill you. You and your sister, and your other vampire friends. I am here because you leeches have bled this city dry, taken everything that I love, and made my life a living hell. I am here to make you monsters wish for a quick death,” Tom said with a smile, his gentle tone dissonant with the words being said. He only wanted to inform her of his motives, any less would be lying. “I plan to bring more Deo Velonte here, and then burn this place to ashes myself. From there, I will track down your boyfriend, and drive a stake into his heart. Maybe then I’ll think about quitting.”

He finished with a nod, hoping he had been helpful in answering her question. His heart beat rapidly, causing a panic, despite there being no cause for it. Not with Sabine with him. There was no reason to be afraid.

---

Interactions: Loomis Mentions: Athanas | Loxely | Eldarkon

 

[Eldarkon]

As Dante listened to Magnus speak, he couldn't help but feel a sense of unease. While Magnus seemed to be on board with his plan to gather information on the Deo Volente, Dante couldn't help but notice the warlock's fidgeting and hesitation. It was clear that Magnus was wary of what the information they obtained could be used for, and Dante couldn't blame him. After all, the Coven Leader's reputation preceded him, and Dante had no doubt that Magnus was aware of his less-than-peaceful tendencies.

When Sabine made her comment about Magnus's drinking, Dante couldn't help but feel a twinge of amusement. It was clear that the warlock was not in his best state, and it was always entertaining to watch someone try to maintain their composure while under the influence. However, Dante quickly pushed the thought aside and focused on the matter at hand.

As Magnus made his exit, Dante nodded in acknowledgment. "Until then Mr. MacVain" he replied, watching as the warlock stumbled out of the room. It was clear that Magnus needed to sober up before attempting any kind of dance with Charlotte. But Dante couldn't help but feel a sense of respect for the warlock. Despite his obvious intoxication, Magnus had shown a determination to make amends for his earlier behavior. It was a trait that Dante admired, and he couldn't help but feel a sense of camaraderie with the Coven Leader.

As Magnus disappeared from view, Dante turned his attention back to the matter at hand. The Deo Volente were a formidable foe, and Dante knew that they needed to be careful in their approach. But with Magnus seemingly on their side, Dante felt confident that they could face whatever challenges lay ahead.

Dante was surprised to be met so warmly by Sabine after his gesture of goodwill. Her smile would make any lesser man melt into a puddle, and it sure made his heart skip a beat. However, he felt a sudden shift in the atmosphere as Sabine's demeanor changed at the sound of Sven's words. He could see the frustration on her face as she arched her brow at the stoic man. Despite the interruption, Dante was impressed with Sabine's composure.

He released her hand and leaned back in his seat, giving her space to deal with the problem at hand. Dante knew that Sabine was a force to be reckoned with and he was beginning to trust her judgement. He watched as she listened to Sven's report.

As Sabine began to bark out orders, Dante stood back and continued to observe. He was in awe of her leadership skills and the way she commanded the room. Dante knew that he had made the right decision in partnering with Sabine, and he was grateful for the opportunity to work alongside such a remarkable individual. He however could see the anger and frustration continue building up inside of her as she stood up and spoke with her guard, and he knew that this was not good for their business negotiations. He listened intently as she instructed Magnus and himself to be ready for the following day, and he nodded his understanding.

As the scene unfolded before Dante, he couldn't help but feel a mix of curiosity and concern. Sabine's sudden departure and vengeful tone had caught his attention, and he watched as she disappeared into the crowd with Sven close behind her. He knew better than to interfere with Sabine's business dealings, but he couldn't help but wonder what was happening.

But when Sabine left the VIP section to confront the intruder, Dante couldn't help but feel a sense of unease. He knew that Sabine was more than capable of handling herself, but he also knew that this situation could easily spiral out of control. He closed his eyes and focused, sifting through all the minds of the club attendees, reading all of their feral thoughts and feelings.

He then realized that there were two missing minds that he had sensed earlier, two guards that were stationed. To his surprise, Dante then came across the mind of Thomas Barret. "Speak of the devil" Dante chuckled, licking his fangs "It seems fate definitely has a sense of irony tonight". He knew that shit was about to hit the fan, and that Sabine may need his help.

Dante pressed two fingers to his right wrist, his rune tattoo glowing a deep red. "Get the men ready. We have a Code D. We can't let the intruders disrupt our business. Miss DeLormè will handle it, but we need to be ready to support her if needed." Dante's voice was firm, but his mind was racing with thoughts of how to protect himself and his empire.

Dante arose from his seat and stood outside the VIP entrance to watch the scene unfold. As Sabine triggered the fire alarm and sprinkler system, causing chaos and confusion among the club-goers. He knew this was her way of getting rid of the unwanted club patrons while also nullifying Mr. Barret's abilities, and he respected her for it. It seemed strange how Thomas was so compliant to Sabine's commands. He sensed no fear in the man, only rage.

The moment the man threatened his life, Dante's composure changed. His eyes glowed a bright red and his fangs grew. Although Sabine told him to stay back, Dante did not care. "It is too bad my fellow kin didn't finish the job!" Dante shouted from afar, slowly making his approach towards the two of them. He made his way Infront of Thomas, towering over him as he bore his fangs.

His eyes were now fully red and filled with rage. A growl like a tiger rumbled in his throat. "Big words from a small man. Although your bravery is commendable, your judgement is lacking. You should have chosen your words much more carefully Mr. Barret. Coming here alone, interrupting our business dealings, and threatening the lives of the two most powerful vampires in the city was the most foolish thing you could have done" He then looked to Sabine, who seemed to be just as enraged as he was "This will not go unanswered. I hope your backup arrives here quickly, for your sake"

Mentions: Loomis SidTheSkid zlexis

 

[Athanas]

Jacques continued to struggle, the migraine worsening by the moment as he sought to navigate this heaving throng of people while staying alert for unusual presences. It was much harder than it had any right to be. Images began to flash in his head, images of wires crawling up the walls and snaking through the people.

No. He was fine. He was going to be fine. He tried to remember how to breathe through his diaphragm as he forced his mind into it's usual calculations. Three vampires. Six members of security, all armed. At least eleven thralls who would fight for the vampires, charmed as they seemed. He ran the numbers and kept reformulating his plan over and over again as the new variables continued to pour.

A guard's radio static grew to deafening proportions. He could hear it, faintly at first, then rising to a horrible scream. The static was calling his name, it demanded his presence. Without him, it was incomplete.

Keep breathing. Keep counting.

Someone bumped into him, causing him to momentarily lose concentration. The drunkard opened his mouth but no sound came out-instead, thick clumps of plasma spewed out, staining Jacques, who just barely resisted the urge to scream. He couldn't do this. He couldn't fucking do this. Everyone was so loud and packed and suffocating. Many of the metal objects around him began to ever so imperceptibly move as the radio static continued to call out. He would have some fucking space, and some silence, even if it meant forcing everyone to shut the fuck up.

Mercifully for the club-goers, 'Tom' chose this exact moment to pop up, looking much more at ease than the engineer-no wonder, mused Jacques, how at home one feels in this cesspit of base urges is inversely proportionate to their intelligence. He gave no response at first, moving swiftly to follow-up on the second stage of the plan, infiltrating the VIP areas. Much to his confusion, the guard, which he expected to have to move past, already seemed to have been called elsewhere. To what end would such a change be taking place? Well, no matter. Give thanks for small blessings, he supposed.

He fished a blank keycard from his pocket, and used it to unlock the door. Of course, it wasn't the keycard that did the unlocking, but there was no sense in the boss knowing that. As they entered the corridor, Jacques almost doubled over, taking deep breaths of air less polluted by overcrowding, the music still loud but now filtered through the wall. After a few moments, he stood up straight again, turning to face the vampire in earnest now. His unsettling aura was quite palpable and on full display, which Lottie might not really be used to, considering her normal company.

"Why people willingly subject themselves to this atavistic nonsense, I will never know. Good work, sir"

He drew a PDA from his other pocket, performing another scan of the club. The guards had all been scrambled, it seems, and two of them lay dead. "Not the stealthiest approach, eh, sir?" He mused, without turning to look at Lottie. "We should have enough if we approach through th-" His sentence was cut off as yet more horrible noise started up again. A fire alarm? What had the bone-headed lieutenant done, now? He quickly interfaced with the nearby technology, trying to find its source. No luck-there did not seem to be a fire at all. A distraction, perhaps?


“I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced, Thomas Barrett. My name is Sabine DeLormè, but I’m sure you already know that. Now tell me, what the fuck are you doing in my club.”

WHAT. THE. FUCK.

The spyware in Tom's phone had also been accessed during this mental scan. A phone that was most definitely not in the pocket of the Deo Volente right next to him, but rather, moving back towards the now-almost empty dance floor.

Jacques was a genius. Of that there is no doubt. But no great intellect was needed to come to the conclusion that either Tom had, for some godforsaken reason, chosen to give his phone to a random bystander that one of the vampire sisters thought was the lieutenant, Or...The person behind him was not, in fact, Thomas Barret.

He didn't turn around. The thing was faster than he was, there'd be no point, but he did quickly begin taking stock of all the metal objects currently in the room, and concealed on his person...

"Would me saying that it was all his idea and I'm just along because he's my boss help alleviate the situation?" He said, concealing the current surge of dread with a terrible joke, still very carefully calculating the precise velocity the objects would need to incapacitate the creature.

The phone in the true lieutenant's pocket revealed that he was now accosted by both vampires. He could help, he was sure he could help, there was much he could use in this temple of modern sin and expensive technology, and their backup could provide overwatch handily, even through the walls. He just had to not die.


Loxely zlexis

 

[Loxely]

To some surprise, Lottie was delighted that her disguise had worked. She only silently followed behind Jacques, attempting to replicate the body language of that of a 'soldier' she's seen on media. Her broad shoulders tightened and chest puffed, gifting the illusion a more masculine silhouette. Though, she listened intently with the best of her own racial abilities of a night walker for the voice of her sister. Having been sired by Sabine into this new, undead life, she had become rather entuned with her more so than just the average sibling. Feeling the presence of her near and that frustration was a tell tale sign that Sabine had encountered Tom head on. Brilliant, she internally chuckled with glee. All she had to do now was keep them separate and keep the act going a little longer.

When entering the corridor, the curiosity of this man's quirks came into question. Having access to secured perimeters of Lazarus with such ease was peculiar. Unfortunately, she was without the helpful knowledge of these specific Deo Volente, unlike Sabine and Dante. At this point, she even cursed herself for not having taken more interest in the affairs of their business so that she would've been better equipped to be an asset to them. Regardless, she found the silver lining in it all - it was quite fun. Toying with this poor boy, seeing as he was already vulnerable from the overwhelming energies of the club itself. It appeared pretty evident that Jacques was not one for crowds and Lottie was thankful for that advantage to having gotten this far into her little game.

She remained cautiously close towards the darker corner of the corridor, watching the poor soul work out his anxiety. A deadpan stare peered down at him from the shadows, choosing to remain silent while Jacques regained his sanity. No longer able to use the blaring music and droning chatter of patrons to assist in diluting her mocked voice of Tom. However, something felt off with this one and she struggled to pin point that uneasiness that exuded from him.

The shrieking of the alarms caused her muscles to forcefully lock up, almost as if that primal flight or fight instinct kicking in. Her jaw tightly clenched, nearly shattering the molars of this apparition. A moment had passed and the tension in the room became eerily thick. The jig was up.

Stepping forth from the dimly lit corner she had been perched in like a bird of prey, the sprinklers of the fire defense system rained down upon her. With every drop, it began to wash away like a damaged painted canvas. Her long blonde locks sprouting in place of the brunette, descending over the wide shoulders - but shortly after, those too melted into to reveal the pale bare skin of a smaller feminine frame. The white dress became sopping wet and clung tightly to every curve. With every step, the thumping sound of rubber soled boots were replaced with the clack of a heel against concrete. Her gaze remained lowered to the ground when approaching Jacques, but a devilish grin plastered along the smooth cheeks of the female.

"Hmm... how does the saying go?" The same mocked tone of a basic man cooed from her, though it rose in pitch to match that of her alluring siren-like chime, "Birds of a feather, flock together?" A now dainty hand caressed the shoulder of Jacques, snaking up to his traps like vined tendrils, "And you, my dear, are in fact a little bird." Stepping at his side with the glint of a predatory creature gleaming from those pale blue orbs, meeting his expression with that of intensified ecstasy.

interactions | Athanas

 

[SidTheSkid]

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[Location: Saint Haddock - East Side, Club Lazarus ]
[Currently: ??? ]
[Mood: What? ]

Magnus was paralyzed with dread, his blurred sight focusing in on the mirror in front of him. He was in genuine disbelief at what he was seeing; the deceiving mirage of himself remained persistent in its unsettling stare, Magnus tried rubbing his eyes vigorously, believing that it was maybe just the earlier strobe lights and the drinking that was tampering with his perception, but when he removed his hands from his face and brought up his eyelids once again, the reflection remained. He'd carefully take ahold of the counter and leaned in closer to the mirror to thoroughly examine his doppelganger's features. The reflection's blue eyes were dull and devoid of life, and its uncanny expression writhed with an unsound grimace that made Magnus extremely uneasy, it was though he were looking at a version of himself that had been drained humanity and was replaced by a demonic presence. Then he heard it - a voice that was unmistakably his own, but different somehow. The harsh timbre of its voice was fatigued, depraved, and had a consistent bitterness simmering just beneath its surface; Magnus observed in horror as the lips of his illusionary counterpart moved in perfect synchronization with the voice, forming words that seemed to be directed at him.

"𝕾𝖔 𝖒𝖆𝖓𝖞 𝖘𝖍𝖔𝖗𝖙𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘, 𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖘𝖊𝖊𝖒𝖘 𝖙𝖔 𝖇𝖊 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖚𝖘𝖚𝖆𝖑, 𝖍𝖒? 𝕸𝖆𝖌𝖓𝖚𝖘?"

Spoiler: Long Post - TW: Gore, Bugs, Death

Great, even his own mimicked hallucination hated him. Magnus tried to push back against the looming terror by telling the reflection to "shut up", he wanted nothing to do with the insanity, but it seemed to only fuel its ominous presence. The impression he had was akin to staring into a dark and foreboding void that threatened to swallow you whole, every fiber of his being screamed at him to look away, but he wasn't able tear his eyes away from the mirror, something was keeping him from doing so. He struggled to comprehend what was happening to him. Was he losing his sanity? Or was this some kind of dark occultism at work? He was trapped in a nightmare, one that he couldn't wake up from. The overhead lighting began to flash erratically, somehow causing the bathroom to gradually morph into a grotesque parody of itself with each flicker of a lightbulb, revealing all its hidden imperfections. The tiles and stalls that once gleamed with relative cleanliness were now corroded and consumed by rust, giving the impression of abandonment and neglect. Black mold stretched across the ceiling, oozing down the walls like a toxic virus. Stains and splotches that were previously unnoticed were now magnified, as if they were screaming for attention. As if that wasn't enough, there were now roaches skittering across the walls, as if they owned the place. The sheer amount of them was overwhelming, like they were crawling out of every crevice.

"𝕾𝖆𝖉 𝖎𝖘𝖓'𝖙 𝖎𝖙? 𝕹𝖔 𝖒𝖆𝖙𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖍𝖔𝖜 𝖍𝖆𝖗𝖉 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖙𝖗𝖞, 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖋𝖆𝖎𝖑 𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖞 𝖙𝖎𝖒𝖊. 𝖄𝖔𝖚 𝖏𝖚𝖘𝖙 𝖈𝖆𝖓'𝖙 𝖘𝖊𝖊𝖒 𝖙𝖔 𝖌𝖊𝖙 𝖆𝖓𝖞𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖗𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙, 𝖈𝖆𝖓 𝖞𝖔𝖚? 𝕴𝖙'𝖘 𝖊𝖆𝖘𝖞 𝖙𝖔 𝖘𝖊𝖊 𝖜𝖍𝖞 𝖞𝖔𝖚'𝖗𝖊 𝖑𝖎𝖐𝖊 𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖘, 𝖆 𝖘𝖑𝖆𝖛𝖊 𝖙𝖔 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖔𝖜𝖓 𝖛𝖎𝖈𝖊𝖘, 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖐𝖓𝖔𝖜 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖈𝖆𝖓'𝖙 𝖘𝖙𝖔𝖕 𝖎𝖙."

As Magnus reluctantly listening to the anomaly, he could feel his head pounding with an intense migraine, and when his eyes darted around a noticable a small splotch of blood would appear, the crimson liquid defiling the once pristine white floors; As he frantically looked around, more and more spots appeared, growing in size and number until they covered every inch of the bathroom floor. The harrowing voice grew louder and more malevolent, reverberated through the room and making the air around Magnus vibrate. The scent of iron filled Magnus's sensitive nostrils, suffocating him with its metallic tang. The puddles of blood began to coalesce into larger pools, thick and syrupy. Worst of all, grotesque corpses began to materialize in the shadows of the corners, their flesh decaying and bloated with maggots. Their eyes seemed to follow Magnus, and their mouths twisted into grotesque sneers. Seeing all of this made him want to throw up and scream but he felt like he was suffocating, his breathing was erratic and shallow as blood dripped onto his skin from the ceiling; Magnus could also feel his heart pounding so hard he thought it might burst from his chest, each beat feeling like it was dealt a blow from a hammer.

"𝖄𝖔𝖚 𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖑𝖉𝖓'𝖙 𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖓 𝖘𝖆𝖛𝖊 𝖆 𝖜𝖔𝖒𝖆𝖓 𝖜𝖍𝖔 𝖜𝖆𝖘 𝖗𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙 𝖎𝖓 𝖋𝖗𝖔𝖓𝖙 𝖔𝖋 𝖞𝖔𝖚."

The lights would've flickered once more and a murky, ghastly mist had inched its way throughout the spacious bathroom like a serpent slithering in the shadows. As the fog swirled and thickened, a sinuous figure, clad in the grim garments reminiscent of a cutlist became barely discernible as it emerged behind Magnus. Their forearms were marked by deep lacerations that were visible even in the dim luminescence casted from lights above that were masked in mist. Without warning, the figure extended a hand and placed it upon Magnus's shoulder, their bony fingers dug into his shoulder, causing Magnus to let out a strangled cry of pain that was quickly interrupted by the cultist's swift movement; their hood withdrawn from their other hand and revealing the haunting visage of "Ms. Caroline Johnson", the red-headed woman from before. Her complexion was drained of life, her loosened jaw hung slack and her glassy deadened eyes were devoid of any spark. In an instant, the apparitions of the deceased individuals from Sabine's files began emerging from the fog, donning the same robes, their spectral forms quickly surrounding Magnus and grasping at his limbs. Each one forcibly holding him in place, their icy touch sent shivers down his spine as they pulled back on Magnus's eyelids, forcing him to confront his own reflection. The flesh on the doppelganger's face had been stripped away, leaving only a grotesque, reddened skull in its place.

"Stop it, dear god just leave me alone!"

Magnus felt as though he had been dragged into the very depths of hell itself, with his mind teetering on the edge of madness; The malevolent entity in the mirror laughed maniacally, its voice piercing through his mind like a thousand knives. Black tendrils, slick and oily, slithered out from the surface of the mirror and wrapped themselves around his body, yanking him forward with a force that threatened to tear him apart. It was as if the very fabric of reality was being ripped apart at the seams. With a guttural and desperate howl, Magnus summoned all of his strength and lunged forward, his forehead crashing into the mirror with a sickening crack. The mirror shattered into a million pieces, raining down shards of glass and fragments into the sink below. And in an instant, the hallucination was over, and Magnus was back in the same bathroom as before. The only remnants of the ordeal were the broken pieces of glass littered across the sink and countertop. His sense of hearing embrace the firearm blaring in the background as the sprinkler above was dousing him in cool water; As Magnus was steadying his breathing he looked down at his once blood-stained skin, that was now replaced with dripping water.

"C-christ w-what the fuck is going on with me?!"

Spoiler: Music

---

 

[Loomis]

Sabine towered over the Deo Volente member with her hands resting heavily on his broad shoulders. The hatred for her kind spewing from his mouth struck her nerves with each word. Humans, always so melodramatic, an ironic thought coming from the Vampire that just murdered a woman to prove a point.

“Is that so?” His confident statements tickled her, the manic laughter echoing off the now empty club walls. “You have set quite the goal, I’m not so sure that it’s attainable though.” Her claw like hands traveled up to his neck and placed the point of her sharp nail on his flesh pushing in until she felt the skin break under the pressure.

“I could end your life where you stand. You kill two of my men, break into my club and then threaten not only my life but my sisters?” She spat and brought her face close to his. She could feel his heart beat against her finger, felt the warm blood trickle down the side of his neck, the urge to violently drain every ounce of his blood growing inside her. It would be so easy to do, Thomas was stuck in her manipulation and there was no one coming to his aid. Sabine’s eyes flashed with excitement and she bared her fangs once again and went to move in on his exposed neck.

"It is too bad my fellow kin didn't finish the job!"

Dante’s enraged voice from behind her broke her wrath induced trance. Anger was a befitting look for her fellow Vampire, at least when not directed at her. Sabine let go of Thomas, giving one last lustful look to the small puncture wound she created on his neck. The hold she once hand on the fire wielder's mind slipping away, the clarity returning to his face.

“Boyfriend?” She scoffed and furrowed her brows at Thomas’s last remark. “I’m afraid I don’t know who you are referring to, but that is besides the point. I don’t think anyone will be staking a Vampire on my watch.”

Sabine glanced around the now soaking club and noticed that her sister had not reappeared from the crowd, a slight panic striking her chest. “Sven! Find Lottie, now.” She could still sense she was close but she didn’t want to risk not having eyes on her with the Deo Volente lurking about. The guard raised a hand to his earpiece speaking in hushed tones as he reluctantly left Sabine to go and locate her sister.

“I must say rage is a beautiful shade on you my dear,” Sabine mused as Dante lobbied threats at Thomas, “The question begs to be answered; how shall we play with our new toy?”

Interactions: zlexis , Eldarkon | Mentions: Loxely ​

 

[Athanas]

The noise and the water were once again agents of confusion, addling his senses and offering further hindrance to what needed to be incredibly precise calculations. He heard as the masculine voice from behind him melted away into a completely different pitch, and the dread in his gut only deepened-this was no random bloodsucker that happened to function as security in this den of monsters, this was one of the sisters. He mentally chided himself for allowing such a ploy to go completely unaccounted for, but his ego quickly turned that outwards. If it was up to him, he wouldn't fucking be here. It was Thomas's insistence they do this. He just had made the best of a shitty situation and used everything to the best of his ability.

Damned simpleton could very well cost him his life, now.

He flinched as he felt a hand tracing along his back, but he still didn't try to back away, his attention wholly focused on formulating this new plan. "That saying is actually often wrong, scientifically, you know? It is actually quite frequent for birds to-" his voice trailed off again as she finally stepped within his line of sight. Many thoughts passed through his mind as he assessed what he saw, but, to his eternal shame, the most prominent one pertained not to her power, or her proximity to the metallic objects, or to the calculations of her approximate strength, but rather, a thoroughly unusable one.

Holy shit, why is she so fucking hot?

The absurdity of his own mind under duress amused him, and he matched her ecstatic expression with an oddly mirthful one of his own, nervous laughter escaping his lips. He immediately thought that he shouldn't laugh, that the vampire before him may take it as an insult and strike prematurely, but trying to suppress it didn't quite work, and only aggravated the situation. Raising his hands up apologetically, he felt like he had to mutter an explanation. "Sorry, sorry, it's just...I always thought the thing that'd kill me would be some horrifying monstrosity. I, uh, guess I was wrong on that particular count, huh? And, for the record, I always saw myself as more of a land animal."

Still, despite his outwardly unhinged appearance, his mind was still connected outwards. The departure of the guards to the dance floor eliminated a few quarrelsome variables. Sending a false signal that would lure them away from his position, at least momentarily, he decided that now was the time to move ahead. It took him a few moments longer than he would've liked to finalize the preparations-a part of him was still distracted by what he saw. How odd, this had never happened before. A weakness he'd need to work on and eliminate, should he survive...

A flip phone, quite some distance away, received a string of coordinates as Jacques shrugged before the vampire. "I somehow doubt you're in a particularly chatty mood, unfortunately. This whole operation was a shitshow from the start...Never should've joined those numbskull zealots." He pulled the hem of his jacket down, exposing his neck with a practiced air of defeated pessimism. "Can I, at least, request you don't make a mess everywhere? This is a nice jacket. Limited edition, no word of a lie."


The gamble's odds of success were okay, but unfortunately, his life hinging on something going merely okay went against everything he stood for. If he happened to survive this, by some malign miracle, he'd seriously reconsider his choice of allies, that's for damn sure. Maybe the coven would be a better place to hang around in? Assuming he could hide his gifts, of course. Or maybe....

He forced his brain to focus, eliminating distractions. This needed to go off flawlessly.

Loxely