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The Multiverse » Arcs » The Arrest of Zosimos

Zosimos is under arrest for committing crimes against his Blood.

As written by: Rulke, lostamongtrees, AzricanRepublic


12 pieces and 50 characters involved, written by 3 different authors.

5 places involved




So begins...

The Arrest of Zosimos


Room of ReasonSetting: Room of Reason


A figure would step into the room escorted by two finely dressed armed knights bearing the Lessard Crest. Although dressed modern, she had what could almost be called ancient eyes. Each step was purposeful and direct before she came to the table and spoke in an English Accent, "You all of you lack decorum to not invite any of the Lessards to this shambles you call a meeting. Well, fortunately, my schedule is not full and also because this needs to be addressed." she indicates to her Knights to remove their helmets before turning her red eyes to Zosimos, "You really thought we would not find out? You really thought you could end one of the oldest Hunter Lines without consequences? I would ask if you are just dimwitted or just a fucking spastic, but I know why you did it and finally, you are reaping what you sow."

She would gesture for one of the knights to speak, "Sir Lauden, you tell these cretins please what you were told." the Knight nodded approaching the table, his very presence regal, "As I explained Dutchess Hazel, one of the Thralls informed us that the girlfriend of Maria Van-Helsing has been encouraged to take up arms by another. We do believe they intend to end this experiment."

The red-haired girl with such fiery barbs laughed darkly, "I do believe a human expression comes to mind here. The chickens have come to roost. Zosimos as representative of the Lessard Family it is deemed your offence is so great and endangers us all that you should be made to answer for this slight. Thus I call for Noctem Judicii where you will be able to answer for this insanity and prove whether you should be spared. If you refuse..." she paused turned to the Knight said something in French before seemingly agreeing and remarking, "Then by Decree of the Lessard Family you are exiled for your crimes against our kind and the utter reckless endangerment. To think Casren put you in charge, and now you bring a war to our kind." scowling she draws out a handkerchief and blow her nose before continuing, "Daemala Tauvyr as the actual leader of Detente you must understand what he did endangers our kind?" she asked her voice suddenly gentle even adorable, "Who will second me so we confirm this and move on to more important affairs?"
Zosimos began to laugh, but a swift motion from Daemala's gloved hand had his building roar silenced in an instant. Her gaze flit around the room, resting on the Ulrich. Terun, however, sensed something very familiar about the Lessard newcomers. He stuck to his spot and silence, wondering why he was awash with such an uncomfortable feeling.

"Ridiculo-" Hissed Zosimos, cut off in an instant and frozen on the spot. The only part of the old vampire which remained mobile were his eyes, locked in an instant with Ulrich. The two were engaged in an internal power struggle. Ulrich could keep Zosimos still, but not for long. Several members of the Forces Vankoryth entered the Room of Reason, positioning themselves around Zosimos, ready to engage. They nodded at the Knights of the Lessards, granting them permission to intervene if necessary.

"A trial," Daemala was doing her best to hide a smile. Just minutes ago Zosimos held the floor. She would have to play her cards carefully so as not to lose what favor he gained.

"A trial. for indeed the reason for our return to the Masquerade and the reason for all of this toe-tipping, the very actions of you. Zosimos," She turned to face the room, no longer hiding her grin. She first addressed Akio.

"First, we, of course, must present a trial. After which, I trust, you have a system ready for what to do with those found....guilty, yes?" Daemala next looked to Lacroix, "As soon as you have a list of these fugitives, the damage doers who hide in our dark asylum, we will begin taking action. Ulrich and Reisel, you will assist Prince Lacroix in whatever he needs so that damage must be undone."

Ulrich had turned a new shade of pale, both him and Zosimos quivering. Daemala took her seat, having said her bit and wishing to get on with it all already. There was a quick scuffle as Ulrich released Zosimos, and he was apprehended. It would take a close observer to see the syringe as it released into Zosimos, doing nothing aside nullifying his shapeshifting and shadow-blending powers. It would last long enough to get him to containment.

Obscenities were spat, a chair was sadly broken, three tapestries hit the ground ripped, and Terun didn't come out from under the table until the door had shut on Ulrich, Zosimos, and his escorts.

"What about the dinner party?" Terun asked quietly. Daemala ignored him and took her leave, curtsying the royalty and giving respectful nods to the rest. Everyone could sort out whatever from here, she assumed. All she cared was that she was recognized as the leader of the Vankoryth Detente, pesky Zosimos was out of her way, and there was dinner party that needed a change in arrangements. On her way out she nearly toppled over a courier, who had a note regarding a new energy disturbance somewhere in the Cursed Wood. Daemala could scream.

Castle Vankoryth DungeonsSetting: Castle Vankoryth Dungeons


It was time.

Zosimos was to be officially escorted to Wing City for pre-trial holding. He himself had given up fighting back, confined with a magical device that didn't allow him to commit crime not atrocity, nor anything type of violence. He had been surviving off of rats, and the finger and toe scraps of what Daemala didn't always want. Usually rotted to the bone, but he relished the flesh regardless.

Two large vampires- members of the Forces Vankoryth, strong of blood in their own abilities to easily overpower the weakened he- grabbed a hold of him be either of his arms and wrestled him out of the cell in the Dungeon. Dank drips echoed where his screams failed to reach, before his silence was commanded with a knock to the head.

Oh how far Zosimos had fallen. He could not shape shift. The shadows were no longer his home. He was in his weakest form-practically a mortal, and for the crimes of what?

Daemala wasn't here, and for that he was glad. None of the Sangue di Bistreo were present, though they'd be at the trial. Whose side would they take? Their ancestor? Or those who accuse him of what?

Castle Vankoryth CourtyardSetting: Castle Vankoryth Courtyard


Zosimos was escorted out of the castle and across the courtyard, bustled into a Wing City Police Cruiser with less struggle than expected. Had Zosimos given up as his trial was about to commence?

It was important for the Vankoryth Detente to remain on good standing with all surrounding societies, peoples, and mortals. As well as their fellow undead. Zosimos threatened that- and even if he didn't he was one of Daemala's greatest annoyances. Chronus pondered on this aspect of things as he watched the door slam on Zosimos and his time at Castle Vankoryth come to what seemed to be a definite end.

Wing City Police DepartmentSetting: Wing City Police Department


Zosimos arrived via police cruiser to none other than a riot outside of the Wing City Police Department.

The sun had just set, and special accommodations had been made to facilitate the Trial of Zosimos by Wing City and the TNG. This was a hugely controversial trial. While the majority seemed to cheer and jeer for justice to be brought down on the neck of Zosimos, there were small groups of extremists who had come to support the elder vampire. A barricade had been set up to keep the crowd back, cops in riot gear staring stonily out into the crowd every few feet. Some of them were bigger and wore armor that didn't match the others- these were members of the Forces Vankoryth. Lest the allotment of the WCPD failed, they would be there to ensure Zosimos didn't escape.

The elder vampire of the Sangue di Bistreo, Zosimos, stood accused of a number of blasphemies, by a number of forces on Aslund and greater Terra. A part of this tickled Zosimos, to have all eyes on him. He didn't mind the hate. Unlike Casren, he relished it. They could hate him all they wanted. In his own mind, the vampire considered himself superior.

When Zosimos turned a member of the Van Helsing family against their will, it was applauded by many within the Vampire community. This was unfortunately after a treaty between mortals and vampires was made. Those who care about that sort of thing were mortified, upset, and called for justice. He didn't check the crowd to see if any of them were present.

As for feeding off of murders in territories under truce, who was to tell him what to do?

Last but not least, Zosimos figured it rubbed Daemala the wrong way that he was more politically strong than she. Not in this position, for certain. He was being scapegoated. There were many who advocated for the total takeover of vampires. The Masquerade was to be reimplemented was it not? Was he not simply behaving by the rules of the night?

The flashbulbs were so bright it was if the sun had made an appearance. He was lucky artificial light didn't burn his skin. With his head held high, Zosimos was ushered dragging chains by two large vampires. Back in the police cruiser, a sorceress in the front seat focused on keeping the magical weaves of suppression on Zosimos. He was to be booked, processed, and carted off to the courthouse for trial.

The mob roared as Zosimos and his escort disappeared into the Wing City Police Department.
Upon the rooftops stood the gray uniforms of the Central Authority, ever watching on the peaceful discourse. Down below, a drab car waited at the headquarters with a single man standing beside it. Behind the barricade, the Sheriff reclined in the seat of the hastily made tower that overlooked the intersection. As the radio box on the shelf began to squawk he loaded the last .47 silver round into the chamber of his Universal magnum.

”We’ve got tracking from the Eye! Keep things under control, and don’t let them kill that bastard!”

Sliding down along the rails, the Sheriff let his boots eat most of the traction. There was a narrow pass from a bottle that he only assumed either contained piss or the mixture to a molotov: as the stench of burning motor oil filled his nostrils when he met the ground, he turned away from a smoldering fire at the base of the watchtower.

Straddling his way along a parapet of scaffolding towards a radiobox, the Sheriff dodged a few more idle bottles filled with piss before he met the trooper that had watched the vampire shuttled off almost as soon as he had arrived. Making his way down from the parapets, one last car shuttled through the barricade.

There on the street, the worst of the barrage thrown from the crowd descended. Rocks pinged off the hood and body of the vehicle as a single man in a gray suit disembarked. He was quick to hold his briefcase over him, to at least protect from the glass as he rushed past the Sheriff. After a tense brace with his revolver at the crowd, the Sheriff backed away behind the gates as they closed again.

”Alright - he’s in! Let’s get this piece of shit processed and off to the chopping block!"
Intake went as fast as it could, given the clash of procedure with utter disdain those carrying out their orders had for Zosimos. He didn't have a fingerprint, which was annoying, but they were able to capture a scan of him and pinch some DNA. He didn't flinch as they withdrew a fluid from him with a syringe and deposited it into a little carousel. He didn't move a muscle when it was time for the cavity search, until it was clear he was overpowered.

Down he went as he was processed, to the High Security Detention center in the Wing City Police Department basement.

Wing City Police Department: Basement FloorSetting: Wing City Police Department: Basement Floor


Compliance wasn't Zosimos's strong suit. To combat the feeling of total helplessness that tried to creep up on him, he drank in the hate of the WCPD. Some of them simply hated vampires. Some of them hated him specifically.

Zosimos wasn't thankful for the change of clothes, despite having had been in his own for longer than comfort allowed. The grotesque jail jumpsuit was almost as drab as his complexion. As the silver coated iron bars of his barren cell clanged shut, an old enchantment activating with the latch, Zosimos let rip a demonic howl.

His roar echoed down the hall of the windowless High Security Detention, morphing into an evil laugh.
Descending the floor through an elevator, the door opened to reveal the Sheriff. Stepping out from the elevator, he didn't waste time trying to find the room. As the elevator dinged, travelling back to the floors above, Daylon steadied a hand over his gun as a laugh twisted through the back of his mind.

He pushed it away, flashing his badge to a nearby officer. With a silent look, he was brought to the cell. From the outside, his hand then knocked against the door. Each hand was a firm, dull wrapping on hard iron. It made a soft bellow at first, before hinges rattled to make the sound echo. "You're Zosimos."

Daylon leaned against the door, speaking into a small opening. "There's some things I've got to read to you real quick, protocol and all," He began, a rustling sound as he opened up a notepad with two hands. He coughed abruptly, wiping his sleeve at the page before he spoke.

"Zosimos - you are being formally charged by the legal bodies of both foreign and domestic governments: the charges you have been accused of bring heinous punishment, in an arbitrary response to heinous crimes. You are hereby guaranteed rights amongst the Interstellar Courts in accordance with Universal Laws to provide adequate representation for your defense against the accusations brought against you -"


Daylon stopped for a moment, taking a long breath. This was always a lot to say.

"You will be provided accommodation and treated fairly in accordance with the policies: they will not be a guarantee of your innocence or guilt. You, and others involved in the charges will be treated as deliberate citizens and protected accordingly - are you prepared for your process of judgement, Zosimos?"
As Daylon read what Zosimos assumed were his rights he plastered a shit eating grin on his face, leveling dark eyes on Daylon. He narrowed his eyes as Daylon paused in what he hoped was the middle of the drawl, creeping closer to the small opening from which his voice carried.

When Daylon finished there really wasn't much for Zosimos to say. He was in the mood to kill this man, but had none of the means to do so. Expressing such a desire under the current circumstances seemed more than unwise.

"That's a lot of words," Zosimos spat between sharpened fangs, dropping his smile and leaning against the wall adjacent to the cell door. He almost sounded entertained, as if this was just a big game.

"Who's my lawyer?"
"As far as you're concerned?" Daylon began waving away the blueclothes officer by the cell with him. "I'll be honest and say no one - I could walk out now, make a single phone call and I would be ... " Daylon thought for a second, leaning against the cold iron door. "Well, rich enough to not worry about who is coming after you." With that, he gave an friendly thunk onto the metal.

"Here's the bad news chief - off the record, now - everyone out there wants to kill you. Now, I'm just supposed to pick you up and shove you off to the court like it's no big deal ... even when it will be. So,"


Daylon laid the back of his head against the wall, taking a long breath as he hovered a hand over the weapon at his hip.

"You're supposed to get somewhere to get what's coming and it's my job to make sure of it - I want you to know that there'll be justice even if it isn't in that court. I'll take you there, and you can get out whenever you want ... but I just want you to know that it'll come either here, or another day."


His hand made a slow, rapping toll sound with an old bell that rang throughout the city.
Zosimos had about had enough of this guy. Who was he? Someone important, he gathered. Someone without the ability to say no to a task like managing the intake of the likes of Zosimos, without risking professional repercussion.

This wasn't the first time a mortal had threatened him. He was pretty good at taking care of business, nipping problems in the bud. There wasn't any piece of the past he couldn't bury far enough to be erased from history. Even this nonsense was just another chapter. Of this Zosimos was confident.

The ancient vampire crept closer to the voice of Daylon as silent as the current circumstance could allow. He could practically smell the breath of the man- it was ranker than half the grave-dug corpses he'd eaten hundreds of years ago. The last time he was this desperate.

"Justice," Zosimos hissed under his breath, just loud enough for Mr. Cop Man to hear, "Is a funny concept, isn't it?"

He hung the question in the air and slinked over to the cot that was carved out of the ground itself. He lounged back onto the porous mattress and tucked a threadbare file of a pillow between his shoulders and the wall.

"We all get what's coming..." If there was a window, Zosimos would have gazed ominously outward onto whatever view it presented.