Lorelai Wyght's Story

Ulrich Paternosta leaned back at the news of the robbery. This was a lot to contemplate. How had news of this not yet reached The Hollow? Ulrich supposed this was a side effect of being well hidden, secluded, and generally avoided by mortals.

Wait a second.

"The Sanguine Feast, eh? You said mortals. Feastus ain't one of 'em, but he's leading a band of murder-hobos, is that righ? An' now they got a bunch o' magical shit, eh?" Ulrich drummed his fingers on the table. This was not good, "An' you did say mortals?"

Ebbrabos shifted sideways a bit toward Stones a small bottle in her hand. Though she leaned in and lifted her gaze to his it left no indication of eyes there. As the eye followed the curve of her cheeks toward where eyes ought to be her pale skin faded away to bare hint at some structure within moving deep inside. A single awareness peering back out from the murk back at him. Her hole for eyes slithers and jolted in long movements of something indiscernible at strange angles above the playful tenting of her riding gloves.

"Careful looking into the abyss, Stones. We Can See You TooOOoo." Said her partly echoed voice in a off-pitch singsong.

She poured three shots of clear liquid though something for a burning clarity of mind than the alcoholic muddying, "Have something nice from my own supply! It won't do to have some tyrant causing problems in my backyard."

In a switch to rest her chin on the palm holding her cigarette, she answered Ulrich after some thought, "Hm. No, I haven't bought any supplies from that kind of vain creature. Nor made any promises to the vain. Though vain foresight does tend to strike an excellent bargain I'd be happy with."

The words were very particular. Vain things like something calling itself a god never saw the paths past their own meat. The cigarette in her mouth she took a long drag with the screechy whine that issues from it.

Causing trouble brought problems and she was feeling charitable, "I'll show him a good time when you're done with him. Just send him my way. Though I'm quite sure the pursuit of power has gained him a number of friends buying new presents for him. They so often surround themselves with those content to only serve, hmm?"

There were a number of cultists in the area who would not be lucky enough that they should go to hell if they died. Though they certainly might burn for not paying what's due.

Stones pushed the glass back to the stranger. A stranger he was starting to think was not entirely what she seemed. "This is not what I thirst for..." He said point blank. The bottle had been rather muddled with the bad attempt to mix the wine with the blood. Maybe a century or two back that would have pleased him. But now. The true hunger came when he opened his maw of rows of razor sharp teeth and clamped it into something living and terrified. Self control just ensured him that he didn't go on a rampage at every second.

Boyle liked the prospect of two allies in their new hunt. Sort of answering the questions to his best abilities. "All mortals besides Feastus. I think they are deluded into thinking they someday he will turn them into vampires. But the shit can never share with anyone else." He warranted. "The most loyal of his followers have been conditioned heavily to feel no pain and to have their minds dulled to fanaticism. He has the gift of Voice and [/b]Gaze[/b] where he can entrance and hypnotize and dominate the will of others. Powerful abilities too... Our initial plan was ripping out his tongue from his mouth at the start of the fight to ensure that wouldn't be too big a problem but even then that would require sneaking up on him."

Ulrich Paternosta nodded once, "Rip out th'tongue. A good plan! Shit."

This Feastus concerned Ulrich, more so that the cultists had found industry around the Cursed Wood. The fact that mortals were wrapped up in it was worse news. Mortals weren't safe in the Cursed Wood without protection of someone. Feastus didn't seem like protection. In fact, between Feastus and the Sabbat, it was a wonder the WCPD even let Ulrich through the doors! It was a wonder there weren't flame-lit pitchfork parties attempting to burn this place to the ground.

Lewis barges on.

"I'm here to kill you, you see. Well, you and every vampire that I can."

He leans with his back against the bar, then states,
"It's nothing personal, really. Well, I guess. I may be in the wrong here, but they say if you think you're wrong, you're probably not, right?" He leans in close to Ulrich, and remarks under his breath, "I'm giving you two days. I know the location of the keep, and I will come. Maybe you'll be prepared for me, I don't know. If I die, that's my problem. But consider me your opponent."

He pulls a knife out of a sheathe concealed on his body, twirls it around in his fingers a couple times, then sheathes it again.

"If I'm shown that your kind aren't like the others, then maybe you deserve to live. But you've got to want it. Like, with all the essence of your being. I don't know how you became a vampire, whether you wanted to or not, but I think your people have stagnated. And I remove things that stagnate. With force."

He gets up off the bar, turns around, and leans up against it again, arms crossed.

"It may take only one of you to kill me, but I wouldn't count on it. Maybe ten or so. But I doubt I'll be stopped. You gotta prove yourself. You gotta show me you don't want to be erased, because I have the power to do it. It may just be me, but you get one shot. One opportunity. Can you seize it? Or are you going to let it slip?"

"And you may think about killing me before the two days are up. Go ahead, try. I don't know what fuels you. But it better be something strong."

He gets up, puts his hand momentarily on Ulrich's shoulder, and says, "Remember, Paternosta. Two days. I'll see you then."

He walks out of the bar, humming a tune to himself.

Daemala Tauvyr entered her establishment and twisted the ring on her finger. Her shadowling manifested behind the bar, to the slight disdain of the tender at work.

"Have any guests arrived to the Soiree?" Daemala asked the bartender, who bowed in an affirmative. Good. She flickered like a shadow to the Room of York, renewing a touch of her glamour before she disappeared inside.

Ulrich cursed under his breath and stalked out the door after Lewis. Two days his undead ass.

Fucking Feastus. Damned occultists.

What did a vampire gotta do to keep good standing with the living these days?