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Ragenard Guiscard

Wrathful berserker, hunter of monsters, vampire hater, werewolf.

0 · 459 views · located in Lutetia City

a character in “The Multiverse”, as played by Dashmiel

Groups

Citizens of the Lutetian City State of Issunar

Description

Work in Progress



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So begins...

Ragenard Guiscard's Story

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The last rays of the sun were staining the world the color of blood as Ragenard made his way through the rough streets of Vargeras like a man possessed. Which in a way, he was. A man possessed by rage.

Taller by at least a head compared to the smattering of lowly pack-kept whores and even lower form of lowlives that were starting to permeate through their bolt holes in time for Vargeras' nightly transformation from near run-down shithole by day into full on cesspool by night, Ragenard drew more than a few stares. But they were all of the quick-and-look-away variety.

Anywhere else, some might wonder why a man bleeding from a dozen wounds was calmly strolling through the rubbish strewn streets without a care in the world.

Anywhere else they might wonder at the clearly freshly torn look of his clothes and the fact they were freshly stained with more blood than a man had a right to bleed.

Anywhere else the bloodstained great sword and still smoking guns might have seem out of place.

But this wasn't anywhere else. It was Vargeras. And here, here Ragenard was well known.

So he walked like he did not have a care in the world, not oblivious to the stares and the fearful whispers, but wholly unconcerned.

It wasn't long before he made his way down a few twists and turns as he neared the heart of Bloodstone territory. Reflexively and unremarked by him, the familiar scents made the square of his shoulders just a tad bit less hunched, his scowl just a tad bit less severe. But just a tad.

Slowly dripping blood that was not altogether his, Ragenard Guiscard made his way up the small landing and through the front entrance of an establishment by the name of the The Den, unconsciously slamming the door open with more force than strictly necessary as a cloud of smoke escaped to float off into air, where it was briefly tinged with the blood of the world before dissipating.

The setting changes from Vargeras to The Den

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The familiar noxious bouquet of tobacco, sawdust, spilled beer, liquor, sweat, and fear hit him like a wave as Ragenard cast his eyes about the room, as a small pool of blood started to gather beneath his feet. His eyes narrowed slightly as he took the "temperature" of the room.

The smell of fear was fresh, and mixed with a twinge of excited expectation. A cursory glance around the bar confirmed what his nose already knew. Baron wasn't at his usual spot. Seeing how Ragenard knew for a fact it was the usual time for his usual drink and his usual smoke before he got around to doing his usual things, it wasn't hard to guess what had caused the fear stink. A brief look at the unmanned section of the bar also made it clear as to why this had likely happened.

"Great. I come here hoping the bastard is mellowed down half a bottle at least, and the damned pup-hopeful goes and riles him up..." muttured Ragenard under his breath as he wandered deeper into the Den, not caring that his appearance might draw the eye of the few local human patrons. They knew where they were.

Once again the partion dividing the common room and the bar rang out loudly as Ragenard slammed it out of his way and reached for a bottle of bourbon off the low shelf. Between long, hard pulls of liquor like a man might drink water he bellowed; "Oi, where did Baron piss off to and what did you fuckers do to piss him off?". Gulp. Gulp. Clank. An empty bottle flew into the ground as Ragenard saw his query go unanswered.


"Well? Don't just stand there you fucking mongrels. And someone fetch a fucking bucket and some rags so I can wipe myself off"! groused Ragenard as he took a second bottle and made his away to his preferred corner, where a lonely and scratch scarred booth sat apart like an island in the sea of happy drinking noise that was the Den on a bad night, and a fortress none dared to let their fights spill into on the good nights.

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.

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Character Portrait: Baron Character Portrait: Ragenard Guiscard
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#, as written by Tiko
Baron was shedding his jacket as he returned from the cellar, which was followed quickly by his shirt that was tossed onto the back of a chair.

"I'm going for a run," he growled out.

A few others in the room followed suit in shedding their own clothes. Nudity was par for the course when you hung out in The Den and jackets and jeans hit the floor while bodies twisted and writhed, sprouting fur.

As a wolf, Baron was a massive beast of an animal that stood several heads taller even than a dire wolf - though he wasn't near as large as those of his pack who took on towering bipedal forms. Of course, the hybrids lacked the speed of their quadrupedal counterparts and where less apt to taking an interest in social runs. Tonight was no different as the three that chose to join with Baron appeared as little more than large wolves themselves.

Baron shook himself off and pushed the door open with a wolfish snout before taking off down the street at a lope. Even urban werewolves found patrolling territory easier on four paws with a heightened sense of smell.

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Character Portrait: Baron Character Portrait: Carlisle Character Portrait: Ragenard Guiscard
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Ragenard was already halfway through his second bottle of bourbon and the ministrations of one of the newest pack girls who had for some reason taken a fancy to him and helped him clean the silver off his wounds when he heard Baron's call for a run.

By the time he belligerently got up from the booth and untangled from the fussy woman blabbering at him that his wounds weren't clean yet and wouldn't stop bleeding and who knows what else, Baron was already well down the street.

"Sod off, whelping bitch, I'm fine and will run if I damn well feel like it!" exclaimed Ragenard as he began to discard his clothing. Upon noticing the angry expression on the woman he quickly offered up his version of ammends "Ah, don't look at me like that lass. Rough day, and I can't let the boss run off without his second, now can I? as he finished discarding his clothing he added-"Now quit staring at my twig and berries and make sure the clothes and equipment make it to my room!" .

After taking a few glances around, he noticed none of the pack bipeds had made a move, much to his annoyance.


Bruisers! What the fuck do ye think you're doing? We ein't going to let the boss run off without his vanguard! You and you, trous off and off we go! he roared pointing at the two closest bipeds as he began his own grisly transformation.

From a flurry of broken bones, reassembling muscles, and migrating organs came Ragenard's werewolf form.*

Standing just shy of nine feet, the intimidating werewolf was a wall of ripply black furred muscle that could barely be contained by the The Den's roof.*

His appearance was made all the more startling by his sudden move to rip off his own skin where his previous wounds were. In the space of a few heartbeats -filled with much enraged roaring and flying spittle- the now forcibly de-silvered wounds sealed back together.

Knowing his entourage would be behind him, Ragenard stomped off through the door, nearly ripping it off it's considerably reinforced hinges, and adding another score mark upon the finish.

Once outside, rather than sticking to the open ground of the streets like their quadrupedal brothers, Ragenard and the other bipeds used their strength to haul themselves and jump off roof to roof, and before long managed to spot Baron and the others down in the streets alongside their rooftop jaunt.

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Character Portrait: Carlisle Character Portrait: Ragenard Guiscard
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#, as written by Tiko
Carlisle didn't seem too thrilled with the idea, but he too shed his clothing as his muscles began to bulge beneath the sickening pop of realigning bones. He let out a roar as his face took on the snarling visage of a wolf before he was out the door after Ragenard. He didn't come close to the height, nor the heft of the much larger wolf, but his gangly limbs left him able to lope on all fours, or to stand erect. It was a well rounded form, though he lacked the brute strength of the beefier wolves, or the speed of the purely quadrupedal. The overly developed digits of his hands where well suited for climbing though as he took to the rooftops with swinging grabs and bounds from window sills and fire-escapes.

Meanwhile back inside the bar, no one seemed at all perturbed by the events that were ordinary enough around here. The piles of abandoned clothes were ignored in favor of returning to their pool games and drinks.

The setting changes from The Den to Vargeras

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Character Portrait: Baron Character Portrait: Carlisle Character Portrait: Ragenard Guiscard
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#, as written by Tiko
Baron gave himself over to the rhythm of his paws beating against the pavement as he barreled out of the doorway of The Den and down the narrow streets of Vargeras with a trio of wolves trailing at his back. It felt good to just get out and run, and to get his blood pumping. with the smells of the city in his nostrils.

The shadows had grown long with the evening hours, but the sun had yet to set and there where still a fair number of evening strollers out for a walk, or heading home from work or dinner, but most of them had the sense to get out of the path of the oncoming wolves. This was Bloodstone territory and the people knew it, wolf and human alike.

He heard and smelled his brother before he saw him, and he threw his head sideway to get a look at Ragenard and Carlisle collding with a slanted rooftop, knocking shingles loose as claws gouged deeply into the wood beneath. His lips curled back to bare his teeth in what could only be described as a wolfish grin before he redoubled his pace.

Lowering his head he was off like a gunshot, barreling through the streets at reckless speeds. The trio at his back picked up the pace, but their smaller sizes lacked the stride length of Baron's massive form, and he was swiftly outpacing them.

The brotherly rivalry was nothing new to the pack though and eventually they fell back one after the other to leave Baron and Ragenard to their juvenile competition. Even Carlisle abandoned the run as he swung over a roof edge to drop down to the pavement with the rest of the pack on the side of the street.

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Character Portrait: Baron Character Portrait: Carlisle Character Portrait: Ragenard Guiscard Character Portrait: LRX419/A "Wayne"
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“Fuck me, this place is a right shithole.”

A hooded figure lurked in the shadows of an alleyway, swathed in a threadbare overcoat studded with tarnished brass badges and frayed patches. His face was hidden by a faded green hood and the coat's raised collar. From the depths of the hood, a single eye winked. It looked more like a lens than an eye, rotating and contracting as it focussed on the cavalcade of werewolves careening down the street.

He had spoken to one of Vargeras' down-trodden citizens, who had backed deeper into the alley as the wolves thundered past. The hooded figure pulled a packet of local cigarettes from his coat pocket, offering one to his companion.

“Mate, you really need to call the RSPCA. Got a serious wild dog problem...”

The citizen, who had introduced himself as Henri, declined the proffered cigarette and shrugged. “This is why you are here, no?”

A rough approximation of a laugh echoed from under the hood, followed shortly by the whir of mechanical joints as the hooded figure sauntered towards the mouth of the alley.

“Yeah, but no-one said nothing about this shit.” A gloved hand emerged from the greatcoat's sleeve and extracted a crumpled cigarette from the pack. The pack disappeared back into the coat, replaced by a battered zippo lighter with a pair of naked women engraved on it. The cigarette flared, throwing the stranger's face into sharp relief.

Angular and inhuman, it was dominated by a hooded optical array that reflected the light like a faceted crystal. He jammed the cigarette into the narrow slot that passed for a mouth, letting it smoulder. Henri backed further down the alley, cursing and making signs against evil.

“And fuck you too, cunt.” The hooded figure replied, raising two fingers in a reverse “V” sign, before plunging both hands into his pockets and setting out after the charging pack of wolves.

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Character Portrait: Baron Character Portrait: Ragenard Guiscard
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Lengthening shadows were beginning to threaten to swallow the world while the slowly sinking sun started to relent its vigil as Ragenard and his entourage began to catch up to their brethren down in the street.

While nowhere near as fast at long distance running out in the open as their quadrupedal counterparts, what they lacked in speed they made up in sheer strength, and using this strength to jump, pull, swing, and at places flat out crash through the congested roofttops of Vargeras, they had been able to keep pace.

Until he saw the grin. There was no question in Ragenard's mind about what was going to happen next. From playtime as pups, to settling debts and wagers as young lads, to simply letting tempers simmer down before they were at each other's throats, Ragenard and his brother had always engaged in this little competition of sorts.

A wild and carefree run through the world, no rules, no considerations, no muddling thoughts. Shut up and keep up.

Baron usually won these little contests, but tonight Ragenard had the advantage. He didn't need to navigate twisting narrow streets, nor did he have to worry about turning, evading late afternoon strollers, or crowds. He just had to pick a direction and go, and to hell with everything in his way.

And so he did.

Ragenard barred his fangs and let out a few deep, and resonating yips, letting his brother know he was right behind him before he too redoubled his pace. The world around him because a quickly ignored storm of torn up shingles, roofing tiles, and destroyed wayward fixtures as he begun to madly dash and leap amongst the rooftops of Vargeras.

Almost immediately he stopped smelling his entourage, almost as the same time as he spotted the runners who had just been with his brother falling back, and couldn't help but grin to himself. The pack was strong, the territory large, the influence secured, but in the end, some things never changed.

Vaulting through a church steeple and dislodging the bell there with a loud clang, Ragenard because to catch up with his brother. He was just a bit behind, but this was how it always began, and tonight, it would end with him the victor.

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Character Portrait: Baron Character Portrait: Ragenard Guiscard
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#, as written by Tiko
The scents of the city assaulted Baron as he barreled through the streets without any inkling of reservation. The smell of car exhaust, rotting trash, people, a barbecue... it all mingled together into the conglomeration of odors that made up the city.

Sometimes he didn't mind hitting the forests for a good run, but the city was where it was at. An urban wolf, through and through.

He was panting heavily and his chest heaving by the time they had spilled into the Phantom Quarter where faint whiff of decay clung on the air, and the buildings were rapidly growing more decrepit.

They were pushing the boundaries of their territory, but no packs had staked a claim to the Phantom Quarter. Who would want it anyways? It was home to those who had no home elsewhere. Any wolves living out this way where apt to being loners, driven out of the more developed regions of the city by the local packs.

The setting changes from Vargeras to The Phantom Quarter

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Character Portrait: Baron Character Portrait: Ragenard Guiscard
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Ragenard couldn't help but wrinkle his sensitive nose as his headlong run with Baron moved off into the Phantom Quarter. To say the place reeked was to do it a disservice.

Rotting flesh of at least three different species, mildew, waterlogged thrash and burning thrash, feces, blood, and bodily fluids Ragenard couldn't even begin to guess at assaulted his nose along with a hundred other odors firmly in the disgusting olfactory spectrum.

Worst still was the pervasive pall of smoke-stink that dominated over it all, seemingly coming from a large dwelling on fire several blocks off.

Ragenard managed a curious glance over the rooftops that rewarded him with a few firefly's of cinder and smoulder off in the distance as he gave his legs all they had and jumped clear from one side of the street to the other before the world went dark for him.

Unable to support his prodigious weight, the roof of a crumbling ruin that once a million years ago might have passed as a fashionable tower room in a noble's château estate exploded into splinters as Ragenard crashed through it, falling a few stories before he managed to gain solid ground.

Enraged at the prospect of losing the race over an ill-timed tumble, Ragenard simply ran up to and through the nearest wall leading in what he remembered as the last direction Baron had been running towards, breaking several bones in the process and landing in a tangled heap of moldy plaster and rotted wood at street level.

Despite a lot of angry hissing and snarling as his bones re-set themselves and started to mend, Ragenard was relieved to see his gambit pay off by half at the least, as he could now see Baron off ahead by only a dozen or so yards.

Not a win, but at least a decent showing.

With some more snarling and furious wood mauling, Ragenard extricated himself from the debris and howled to his brother, somehow signaling to him with it's piercing tones that he both admitted defeat and that he would appreciate it if his brother stopped being a right bastard and stopped running already.

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Character Portrait: Baron Character Portrait: Ragenard Guiscard
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#, as written by Tiko
Baron had already come to a stop when he heard Ragenard come barreling through a wall somewhere at his back. The scent of smoke had brought him up short and he was scenting the air. There was a fire nearby, and fire would draw fire engines and police. A couple of wolves tearing through the district in the wake of arson was as good a way as any to land them in a police station for questioning.

His skin rippled and writhed as he shed his fur, and a few minutes later a man was crouching in place of the wolf.

He stood and shook his hair out before turning to face Ragenard.

"So what is it this time. Tell me you didn't put Noel in the hospital again."

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Character Portrait: Baron Character Portrait: Ragenard Guiscard
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#, as written by Tiko
Ragenard gave Baron an exaggerated dismissive wave as he crouched down and began his regression back into his human form.

"That" he groused as he stood up and turned to face his brother, "Was this morning's news, utter horseshit, and I didn't start it."

"For fucks sake, Ragenard," Baron replied in exasperation and irritation. "Do you have any idea the position this shit puts me in?" he asked. “How bad is he?”

Ragenard put on a face of mock contemplation before replying. "Hey, far as I'm concerned, he had it coming talking all of that shit about us. Well, me at any rate." He gave the question of Noel's wellbeing a few seconds of thought before continuing, "Uh. I don't know? Alive? Maybe a few broken ribs, spleen, and who the fuck cares? Guys an ass, James."

“And you wait until now to tell me?” Baron asked. “Does his sister even know?”

"Hey, I wasn't planning on telling you anyways. It was a gentleman's dispute, didn't need pack law figuring into it" growled Ragenard irritably before looking down at his feet. "Uh, and no. I haven't, uh, seen her all day. Buggered off after the fact and caught wind of some blood suckers."

"Well you're alive, so I'm guessing they're not," Baron remarked. "Nothing that'll trace back to us?" he asked.

Baron didn't particularly approve of Ragenard's vendetta, but neither had he ever made any effort to stand in his way either. But he had made clear to his brother that if he chose to act alone, he would be cleaning the messes up alone. His beef with the entire vampire race wasn't a pack matter.

Ragenard shook his head before replying, "Clean as a whistle. Well, not clean if you take my meaning, but nothing that links back to us" said Ragenard as he tilted his head.

The distant sound of sirens was drawing closer and Baron moved off to the side of the road as flashing emergency vehicles blew past, no doubt en route to the fire that the pair had caught the scent of.

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Character Portrait: Baron Character Portrait: Ragenard Guiscard
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#, as written by Tiko
"Well, what is it you need then?" Baron asked.

A few more vehicles barreled past before some measure of quiet resumed. It was an awful lot of vehicles for a fire Baron noted.

Ragenard took a second to watch the passing lights after having their talk interrupted and to compose his thoughts. "Wonder what that fuss was about, shimmered and flared something fierce from up top" mused Ragenard as he patted down his thighs looking for a non existent pocket. "Damn. Wish I'd have brought some smokes or something" muttered Ragenard while hoping with little hope that his brother wouldn't notice his sudden bout of furtiveness.

"Last time you were acting this way, it was to tell me Dad skipped town," Baron remarked. "Spit it out."

"Funny you should mention skipping town..." trailed off Ragenard with an exaggerated sight. "Now, don't get pissed...but I wanted to ask-" stopping mid sentence, Ragenard seemed to shake himself off and stand up straighter.

"No. Not here to ask the leader of the Bloodstone Pack. I'm here to let my brother know" Ragenard said with more conviction he had felt in a while. "That last nest of vamps I took down. Something was off. Not sure what it was, but I could feel it down in my gut" said Ragenard before taking a deep breath and finally letting it out and getting to the point.

"I need to go do something about it. Probably won't be around The Den all that often, at least not staying over. I'm going to try to join them.

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Character Portrait: Baron Character Portrait: Ragenard Guiscard
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#, as written by Tiko
"Tell me you're not talking about what I think you are," Baron bit out, a low growl had edged into his voice. "They're butchers. What the fuck are you thinking," he demanded.

"I'm thinking that they know their shit when it comes to blood suckers. I'm thinking they can actually be useful in helping me resolve this shit. I'm thinking they might see it as me doing the world a service when I tear off another godfuckingdamned vamp head off, and not look at me like I'm some sort of lost soul with a look that's half pity and half disappointment! " growled Ragenard as his eyes began to turn a feverish yellow and his face shimmered slightly like a candle's wax running down the side.

Ragenard took a few steps back to get his anger under control for a minute before speaking again. "I know what they are, James. I know I'm talking about sleeping with the devil. But I'm planning to fuck it, not marry it. No harm would come to the pack from that direction, not while I draw breath."

"No it won't," Baron growled. "Because as long as you're with them, there won't be a place for you in this pack," he warned. "But you already knew that, didn't you."

"Aye." said Ragenard while taking another look in the direction of where the flashing lights could be seen off in the distance. "I suppose I did" sighed Ragenard before continuing.

"The pack is strong. The territory is secured. You got more bruisers and with Carlisle alone there's enough experience to keep them in shape and train new ones if you found any. The pack...the pack will be fine without me" said Ragenard before looking at Baron in the eye "I will not do anything that will threaten the pack. Should the pack ever need me, I will be there. Should my brother ever need me, I'll be there" he said resolutely.

"But I'm going. Even if it means exile. So do your pack leader part, you pox ridden bastard, and I'll think none the less for you as a leader or of as a man."

Baron couldn't say he was too surprised by the turn of events. Ragenard's obsession was leaving him spiraling out control, and this had been a long time coming.

"I hope you get your head back on straight someday, brother," Baron told Ragenard before he doubled over with the popping of contorting muscle and bone. He shook his fur off and headed off down the street at a lope.

"I hope so too, brother. I hope so too" muttered Ragenard to himself with one last look towards the flashing lights before his skin rippled and he exploded into his towering wolf.

He gave one long howl to the nascent moon before leaping off into the roofs on his way back to The Den for the last time in what might be a long long time. The noise that pierced the night would have sounded like that of the lone wolf to any with an ear for such things.

The setting changes from The Phantom Quarter to Mandragora University

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Character Portrait: Ragenard Guiscard
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It was a long and eventful night for Ragenard, full of many new unknowns and questions, all leading up to this moment.

He had vacated his apartment within Bloodstone territory shortly after making up his mind, packed all of his meager possessions into a single overgrown trunk, and spent the night in a literally lousy motel room while he gathered his thoughts aided by a bottle of good whiskey. Likely the last he would be affording for a while.

He now stood poised to approach the mouth of the beast. A group of people who hunted people like him. A group of people he would arguably be crazy to even consider joining, both because of who he was, and what he was.
And yet, here he was. Sometimes crazy was the only way to get what you wanted most.

Ragenard dropped down from the perch he had been standing oon watching the approach into Mandragora University. Despite it's humble beginnings, the purpose of underneath it all was obvious to anyone with the eye to see. The way the land itself was shaped around the perimeter, how clear and devoid of clutter it was. Perfect firing lines in case of attack.

He had no doubt that within seconds of dropping from his hiding place, eyes somewhere within were aware of his approach.

Not one to waste time, Ragenard began to slowly make his way towards the front gates. He walked slowly, nonchalantly even, but just beneath his skin he held his rage like an armor, ready to spring into attack if needed.

He was in his human form now, and fully clothed, or as much as a werewolf who spends most of his life fighting can be said to be clothed. Black combat boots, dark gray and black patterned fatigues pants, and a simple white muscle shirt that left no folds or crannies open to the imagination made up his ensemble.

It was chilly still in the foggy post dawn hours, but he left his coat back at his shitty motel room. If he was going to get shot today, he reckoned it would not be because a jumpy guard thought he was reaching for a hidden weapon in his pockets. Not that there was any need, as he was intentionally walking down fully and visibly armed.

Around his torso he wore a peculiarly runed baldric of the sort one would have used for a big monster of a sword or axe a few centuries ago in the region, made up of supple black leather on the inaide and worked cunningly through with plates of boiled leather that seemed to have no seams to them. All throughout could be seen runes worked into the leather itself, barely visible unless you had the eyes to see them when active.

As none of the handful of enchantments centered around the runes were active, both it and it's contents were plain for the world to see. Hanging to either side just off his hips, two wide loops contained a pair of odd sawn off shotguns, indentifiable as such by general shape, but all a mess of sharp points and strangely colored gunmental and golden alloys swirling about.

Then there was the obvious centerpiece to his weaponry, a big ass sword, which despite obviously being there, did not reveal much about it due to it's being tightly wrapped hilt to tip in oilskin.

Thus it was that Ragenard made his way to the metaphorical gates of the Ardelean Society, nonthreateningly and respectfully disengaged, but visibly prepared and a vision of casual lethality.

"Oi there, guard. Yes you. I know there's probably like 20 of you hiding somewhere nearby, and you no doubt either know who I am or will be told so shortly" exclaimed Ragenard immediately as he drew up to the gate and saw a small guard station off to the side, he held himself neutrally and comfortably as he carefully gesticulated with his hands as he spoke, being careful to keep them above waist level and slightly extended, unmistakably away from his sidearms.

"Be a good chum and direct me to your boss?"

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Character Portrait: The Slayers Character Portrait: Ragenard Guiscard Character Portrait: Isaac Irons
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The approaching figure came sauntering up the road, loaded down with weapons of varying degree, all unidentifiable at first glance. However, as he approached, his face became clearly visible; it was a face everyone on the grounds was made sure to know quite well. One of the two Slayers posted at the entrance immediately fired up the comm. links in their helmets. "We've got a Code 2 at the front gate. Say again: Code 2 at the front gate. We got Ragenard in the flesh. Advise caution to all units."

The duo fixated their weapons on the approaching werewolf, ready to open fire if necessary. He wasn't making any sudden, threatening moves, so they stilled their trigger fingers for the moment. It was when Ragenard began to speak that his intention became clear. The two Slayers both cast sideways glances at each other as Ragenard issued his "request," both men quite confused at this behavior. It was rather unexpected that they be visited by one of the Bloodstone Pack at all, much less him carrying himself relatively amiably.

The Slayer brought his comm. to life once more. "Mandragora, this is Slayer Post 1. Ragenard is requesting an audience with the Father. How copy?" Silence pervaded as the bitter tension between the two parties hung in the air. Suddenly, a reply came through. "The Father is sending Irons to confirm contact with Ragenard. Stay vigilant."

Rifles kept at the ready, the Slayers stared Ragenard down as he stood across from them. "They're sending a Hunter to come greet you out here. You'll go in on his say-so. Until then, you stay where we can see you."

It took a few minutes, but Isaac finally appeared at the front gate. Stepping through the wrought iron archway, he stared, dumbfounded, at their newly-arrived guest. "My, my. Never did I think that you would grace us with your presence. To what do we owe the pleasure, Ragenard?" After he had spoken, Isaac realized how rude he had been to not introduce himself.
"Oh yes, excuse me; my name is Isaac Irons. I am a Hunter for the Society. Now, may I ask why it is that you need to speak with the Father so urgently?"

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Character Portrait: The Slayers Character Portrait: Thaddeus Cael Ardelean Character Portrait: Ragenard Guiscard Character Portrait: Isaac Irons
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It took a few minutes, but Isaac finally appeared at the front gate. Stepping through the wrought iron archway, he stared, dumbfounded, at their newly-arrived guest. "My, my. Never did I think that you would grace us with your presence. To what do we owe the pleasure, Ragenard?" After he had spoken, Isaac realized how rude he had been to not introduce himself.

"Oh yes, excuse me; my name is Isaac Irons. I am a Hunter for the Society. Now, may I ask why it is that you need to speak with the Father so urgently?"


Ragenard had remained painfully compliant all throughout his wait to be seen by the pale and tired looking hunter going so far as to offer the two mentally off balanced slayers a wide toothed smile while they leveraged their guns at him. The arrival of the hunter left him a bit off guard. He had heard plenty of their exploits, and had no doubt they were all to a man very capable, but the man's appearance and demeanor reminded him more of a grocer than a hunter of the supernatural.

With a minor faltering in his expression, Ragenard regained his compusure before replying, making sure to keep his tone nonthreatening and even sounding like the barely coherent simpleton most folks assumed him to be: "Irons, eh? Not sure if that's a joke or not, but I'll give it the benefit of the doubt. I'm 'ere because I've 'eard you bastards are good at what you do, and what you do interests me. There's plenty I can offer you, but only you can offer me what I'm after" said Ragenard with a vicious smile.


Isaac regarded Ragenard with a mixture of amusement and confusion. He'd come seeking, it seemed, to aid them in their plight. Of course he was a more than capable fighter, as evidenced by his escapades throughout Lutetia City. However, allowing him passage into the University was one thing; membership into the Society itself would be a heavily deliberated matter. Cocking a curious eyebrow, Isaac looked Ragenard over once more. "And just what is it that you're after?" the Hunter asked politely.
Ragenard's smile widened even further, and his eyes took on a subconsciously feral look as he replied to the hunter's query.
"Bloodsuckers. Tons and tons of vampire leeches to exterminate" proclaimed Ragenard as his gesticulating became even more animated. "If I could rid the city of the damned things on my own, I would. But I can't" finished Ragenard before taking a sniff and catching Isaac's scent.


With slightly widening eyes he continued "You. I smelled you before. Underneath the stink of ash and death in the phantom quarter last night. That was vampire territory from what I heard, but I never managed to track it down to a specific dwelling. Guess that explains the fire" mused Ragenard out loud before making a thoughtful expression and waiting for the hunter to continue the conversation.


Unwavering on the outside, Isaac was rather taken aback that Ragenard had brought up last night's catastrophe. He'd lost a man last night, and dealing with that fact wasn't getting easier any time soon. He kept his eyes focused on Ragenard; the werewolf's offer to help the Society exterminate vampires would have been more surprising had they not known him in the first place. However, his help would be greatly appreciated, seeing as werewolves were quite fearsome and made extremely capable allies when in good company. There was merely one problem with his proposal...

"While your enthusiasm is greatly admired, I do have to wonder: is your aim to eliminate all vampires within the city?" he asked.
Ragenard noticed that Issac kept his eyes square upon his, a bit too squarely even, but decided not to make an issue of it. It was time to change tact, the bloodthirsty simpleton act he was so used to when keeping other werewolves at bay wouldn't do him any favors here.


"I'm not fond of the things in any variety... But then again, many things are not fond of my kind in any variety. I'm not the idealistic type, and I know when to be pragmatic. Eliminate all vampires? No. That would be folly and next to impossible. Eliminate all of the ones who prey on hapless humans and threaten them as much as they do the balance of peace with other Supernaturals and Humanity? Yes. Eliminate every single one that fears the wolf and stages cowardly attacks upon my kind? Also yes" said Ragenard, his tone moving slowly from impassive to slightly agitated.

"I'm not stupid. Your organization has a history with my kind. Hell, they have a history with my former pack. But my life now is that of the lone wolf. I'm aware a union with your organization is both unorthodox and not without cause for concern. For both parties. This is why I came here to speak with your Leader" finished Ragenard levelly.


Isaac held a hand up, reassuringly. "I just needed to know that we were on the same page. We can't go about indiscriminately slaughtering anything we feel like..." he trailed off, thinking about how much trouble Nox would be in right about now. Isaac personally felt there was nothing to be done for his brother-in-arms, demented as he was. However, Thaddeus harbored a deep-seated sympathy for and desire to mend Nox. Besides that, Thaddeus seemed to have an idea of what he was doing, so Isaac assumed he knew best. He just hoped something could be done about Nox before he did something truly irrevocably damaging. "We do have a reputation to uphold, after all," Isaac finished.

He halfway turned to point at one of the Slayers standing behind him. "Contact him. Let him know we're coming in. Ragenard wants an audience. Tell him he wants to help." As the Slayer made contact with the University radio command trying to get a hold of Thaddeus, Isaac turned his attention once more to Ragenard. "Come. We're heading in," he said, turning to proceed towards the building. He stopped, facing Ragenard a final time before speaking. "As I'm sure you're already aware, we have eyes and ears all along the perimeter. I'm sure you don't need reminding, but just in case: anything too sudden, anything stupid, and you will be put down."

With that, he led the way, stepping through the iron gates with Ragenard in tow.


Ragenard couldn't help but chuckle quietly to himself at the hunter's warning, mainly out of relief at the normalcy it presented, as that was the kind of welcome he had been expecting. "Aye, I'll assume my every breath within these halls is a gift" said Ragenard sarcastically as he followed Issac, probing the area within with all of his senses. He was either right where he wanted, or within the Lion's Den. The exact nature of what would happen hanging in the balance for the near future.
Nonchalantly at ease, He trailed behind the hunter as he led them to their destination, all the while his rage sat just underneath the surface, ready to take hold if the situation demanded.


---



Within the aging walls of the University, there was an abundance of activity; students blustering to arrive to their classrooms in a timely manner, Alchemists wandering about with various technological components bundled in their arms, and Slayers posted on patrols around the hallways. Some of the students looked toward Isaac and Ragenard on their trek through the halls; some of them recognized the burly werewolf, others puzzled as to who the possible initiate was. A pair of Slayers approached Isaac, waving him through to the back of the main corridor, through a pair of doors.

Down the hallway were several offices; however, the one that was of their concern was the red door in the center at the end: Thaddeus' office. Striding down the hall and finally reaching the door, the Slayer escorts led Isaac and Ragenard through. "Sir, Isaac and Ragenard Guiscard to see you," he said. Thaddeus ushered the two in, waving the Slayers away. "Please, sit," he said, motioning for Ragenard to settle into one of the plush-cushioned chairs in front of his desk. "I've come to understand that you wish to help us," the old Hunter said. "I've been told you wish to aid us in hunting the more unsavory breed of vampires," he finished, allowing Ragenard to speak his piece.

Ragenard slowly took the offered seat as he took in the man's appearance and mulled over his words. If Issac struck him like a grocer, this man was the complete opposite, and what he expected a hunter of he Ardelean Society to look like. Weathered looking and clearly well seasoned by experience, the head of the Ardelean society looked the kind of man Ragenard wouldn't mind having to battle for his life if circumstances turned dire.

"You understand correctly" said Ragenard simply.


Thaddeus let the silence between them brew for a few moments as he looked Ragenard over more thoroughly; he was a stout one, that was certain. Muscular and broad, a powerhouse of a werewolf even in human form. Having personally never seen the man shed his skin to take on his more feral appearance, Thaddeus could only imagine what the beast beneath that human shell looked like. If the figure before him appeared this powerful, what his transformation looked like would have to be tenfold more impressive.


"Well, I would imagine that you are well-aware that I know who you are, who your brother is, and which pack you hail from. If you truly do wish to aid us, then I need only know that your ties to the Bloodstone pack and to your brother will not interfere with the duties that will be required of you here; within reason, of course."


With a barely perceptible nasally sigh, Ragenard reached the end of his feelings regarding his former family. Up to this point he had been conflicted, but now that he has actually made it this far, it was clear to him that dwelling in what would only continue to become the past every minute henceforth was a waste of his time.

"I am well aware that you're well informed. I would expect nothing less" Ragenard said as he looked about the room, making note of as many details as possible that could aid him tactically should things turn ugly. From the distance to each entry point, to precisely how the two men were sitting-one relaxed, slightly pensive while the other a bit stiffly, tilt to his head and thoughts partially elsewhere-all part of an ever changing plan of attack in the game of "how can I kill everyone around me before they kill me" that was his life. If things were to go wrong, now was the time, when he put forth his own conditions that may well be denied.

"You wouldn't have to worry about ties to the Bloodstone pack or any other pack for that matter. My visit here today was contingent upon the severance of those ties. Most of my kind would probably gladly see my head on a spike if they knew what I was looking to sign up. No, I howl alone. However..." asserted Ragenard as he shifted his legs and leaned forward a fraction of an inch, "There are certain conditions to my help. Pack or no pack, my brother remains my brother, and our private affairs are exactly that. I will not meet him with the intent to do him harm under the Society's orders, nor will I cross arms with my former packmates. They might have cast me away, but that doesn't mean I will betray the bonds that I once shared with them. Should the Society have cause to meet them in battle, my help with be with neither, assuming the actions against them are justified" Ragenard said levelly as the rage within burned and burned.


Thaddeus needn't consider Ragenard's proposal for very long. His terms were fair, given what the Society attained upon their meeting. He smiled a warm, gentle smile only a man as world-weary as himself could manage. With his eyes meeting Ragenard's own, he spoke. "That will be all right, as far as I'm concerned. Welcome to the Ardelean Society, Ragenard." He looked over to Isaac, who was absorbed in his own, no doubt troubled, thoughts. Thaddeus sometimes felt that he was much too young to know the kind of burden that comes with loss, especially when the blame seemed to fall solely upon oneself. But then, he had to remind himself that such was their way of life, and that Isaac would never become his own man if he didn't experience all life had in store. Even if that same life held such horrendous catastrophe that Isaac had witnessed earlier.

Thaddeus returned his attention to Ragenard, his eyes growing more sincere and somewhat saddened. "Before you go, I just want to assure you that I would never go out of my way to do harm to you or yours. We do good here, even if the smell of blood on our hands doesn't always betray that decency." With that, he left Ragenard to do as he pleased, his mind trained on the possibility that Isaac would need council with him in private.


Knowing when to make his exit, Ragenard returned the man's smile as best as he was able, before pulling a piece of paper from one of his pockets and sliding it towards Thaddeus. "I have some errands to run in the city, that's my number to get a hold of me. I won't take up anymore of your time. Feel free to have one of your people call me if we need to make things official later, I expect there might be a fair bit of that to be done" said Ragenard as he stood up and shook hands with both men before leaving the office and catching surprised glances from the two slayers posted down the hallway.

"Oi, looks like we're to be best chums. Mind escorting me out of the grounds unshot?"

The setting changes from Mandragora University to Lutetia City

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Character Portrait: Julienne Delatte Character Portrait: Ragenard Guiscard
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#, as written by Tiko
Julienne woke in the early hours of morning with Ragenard half sprawled across her where she had spent the night at his dingy motel room. After the pack meet the night prior, she had needed a good lay.

A fight always left her wanting two things; food, and sex. Fortunately Ragenard had been more than compliant with providing the latter of the two.

With morning here though, it was time to clear out. She had places to be today, and she needed to check in and find out if Jesse had turned up yet. Or Sophia for that matter.

She gave Ragenard a shove to roll him off her so she could get up and get dressed.

Ragenard was suddenly startled into consciousness by the floor coming into sharp contact with his head. For a moment his vision blurred and his nose wrinkled as the epic hangover from the night before assaulted him. He spent the few seconds while his body adapted and cleared his mind by trying to recall the events of the prior day as he laid facedown in the floor of the truly shitty motel room that now was home.

For a second he panicked, unsure of where the hell he was and who the hell he had been with, before catching a whiff of Julienne and smirking as the memories came back. Some things just never changed.

He recalled his aimless wandering the few days prior, after meeting the Society and just haunting the sides of the city he had neglected prior, when he used to call Lupaix home. He remembered making himself acquainted with some of the more seedier bars and restaurants of Vargeras, pulling off odd jobs here and there for more money to drink and float on his now cast adrift life.

He recalled meeting Julienne, fierce look on her face and reeking of sweat and battle, making a beeline for him as he half stumbled his way off a dirty alley. Recalled being terrified she was coming to bash his head in for putting Noel in his place, and how wildly off the mark he was as within seconds they were involved in a whole different kind of heated exchange, as they both halfway dragged the other to his motel room a few blocks off, more snarling and grunting than talking. And then he recalled the night and chuckled as he got up and made his way nakedly to take a piss.

"Glad to see some shit around this city is constant Juls. Hell of a night, though I think you bruised my kidneys at one point. What the fuck happened to you last night? How's shit around the pack?" Ragenard called out as he took care of his morning ritual.

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Character Portrait: Julienne Delatte Character Portrait: Ragenard Guiscard
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#, as written by Tiko
"Shit is the right word for it alright," Julienne called back as she pulled her shirt on over her head. "Do you have anything to eat around here?" she asked.

Admittedly she wasn't sure it was actually safe to eat anything in this hovel, but she was famished. Enough so that she was already rummaging rather haphazardly through Ragenard's shit while she waited for him to get out of the bathroom.

"That little cunt, Alfred, thought he would have a go at me last night,” she explained.

"Alfred?" called out Ragenard as he walked out into the room, his brow wrinkled in confusion before recognition lit up in him. "Oh. Weasel face. Seriously? He challenged YOU? Didn't think he had a pair in him. I wouldn't eat any of the shit here, not even sure it's my shit or that of a million other occupants. There's a little food cart that runs by nearby on the mornings. Surprisingly delicious and not rat meat. I think" said Ragenard as went about getting dressed and getting his weapons in order and stowed up.