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Torrential

Wolf in Wolf's clothing.

0 · 598 views · located in Wing City

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

Description

Tyler, the Creator wrote:Jesus called, he said he's sick of the disses,
I told him to quit bitchin'; this isn't a fuckin' hotline,
For a fuckin' shrink, sheesh I already got mine
And he's not fuckin' workin', I think I'm wastin' my damn time,

Image

He moves without swiftness but with striding arrogance, a confidence that is born from rough times that he's muscled through. He is the rock in the sea, as lethal as acid rain. He swats men and woman aside, disgusted by the weaker species. He thinks Vampires will rule the earth, one day. It's only a matter of time.

Age: 935 at current date.
Bio: A vampire that doesn't care about politics or who is currently at large in the world. He wants two things; pleasures of life and the death of his enemies. He is willing to bend who the second rule applies to so long as someone supplies him with the first.

Equipment:

  • Two (2) 9mm Handguns, with sixteen (16) round clips. He keeps eight clips of spare ammunition on each side of his belt, with an additional two clips of special bullets.
  • One (1) Sawed off Shotgun, kept in a back holster. Shells for this are kept across his chest in an ammunition strap.
  • One (1) Katana, laced over the shotgun in a back sheath. Treated Alloy that is made to be kept extremely sharp.
  • Three (3) throwing daggers kept on opposite ammunition strap across his chest.
  • One (1) combat knife with serrated edge, kept in his boot. Treated with the same alloy as his Katana, listed above.

Abilities:
  • Night Vision; in accordance to his ranking as a high-level vampire, Torrential can see very well in the dark, as he primarily hunts nocturnally.
  • Martial Arts; he has had many decades to dedicate his body to the art of killing and nothing else. As such, he is a master of Boxing, Kendo, Judo, Jujutsu, Tae Kwan Do, and most recently Krav Maga.
  • Enhanced Speed/Strength; as a vampire who is nearly a millennia old, Torrential has the strength and speed as someone who has that kind of experience with being undead.

So begins...

Torrential's Story

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Character Portrait: Torrential
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Balancing survival with stealth was always one of those lost arts, in Torrential's opinion. Vampires just didn't know how to do it anymore; the quiet grace of movement and caution mixed with that rapid urgency to get away before dawn licked at your heels and gnawed at your skin. Usually with the young ones, it was one or the other; either they were slow and stupid, checking every facet of their surroundings before acting, or too panic-filled, running around with oh-god-the-world-is-ending mentality and making far too much noise. Torrential wished that those young ones could see his technique.

They'd see a master at work.

He didn't question the Vardo when he saw it; far enough away from the Gypsy camp to be deemed safe, but not so far away that he couldn't feed if he needed to. The fight with the werewolf had left him sore, but otherwise unhurt; his skin wasn't even broken. He was relentless in his pursuit of combat over the past days; the thought of not one, but two worthy adversaries escaping his grasp in the last month was... distracting him. He was itching for a good fight.

But not as much as he was itching for some shade.

With some of that cautious grace he had thought about earlier, Torrential approached the Vardo, long coat flapping silently in the chill air. Torrential had always appreciated the night. Appreciated it greatly. With quick steps, soundless save for a single lone creak on the steps to the door, he pressed an ear against the grainy wood, listening for movement. Satisfying himself after a cursory listen, he moved around the side of the wagon, running a hand quickly over the wood of one of the tight shutters.

After ensuring that there were no real lock systems in place, he opened them, satisfied to note that they opened soundlessly, and hopped into the Vardo, a dark shadow against a lightening outside world.

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Torrential didn't even freeze as he pulled the shutters closed behind him, his gaze, though hidden behind the dark glasses, seemed to burn through the woman. He noted the scar, the dark skin, the thick hair, all of which was oddly pleasing to his senses. He realized how suddenly cliche this situation was; lone maiden in a relatively secluded area, when the handsome vampire comes into her window, and suddenly the two are rutting until it's discovered that he doesn't have a reflection.

He looked down her form before meeting her gaze again, deciding that he quite liked the sound of that. If she didn't scream, which she seemed intent on doing. An inhalation through his nostrils brought her scent to him, something that seemed like that dark stuff Varia had coated her dart with on the hunt - Wolfsbare, had she called it? He'd been preoccupied with other things about her at the time - and he noted that it was indeed, curious.

"I'm the repairman." Torrential said, offhandedly, letting his weapons casually reveal themselves to her as his long coat opened. "If you scream, I'll fix you. You have anything to eat in this godforsaken place?"

The setting changes from gypsy-camp to Cursed Wood

Setting

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Character Portrait: Charles Lemarr Character Portrait: Varia Vulpes Character Portrait: Torrential
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#, as written by Tiko
(Post co-written by NotAFlyingToy, Tiko and Leli)

The fingers of the sunlight were receding from their hold upon the sky, inching back towards the western skyline in a full retreat. Amidst the beckoning darkness stood a shadow, with mocha skin, dark glasses, and a muscle shirt strapped down with weapons of various shapes and sizes. Behind the thick glass was a quirked eyebrow as he studied the clearing he stood in; dead leaves mingling with browning grass, gentle breezes flowing through the trees that encircled the area. As he finished his cursory scouting, the shadow stepped into the open, one hand firmly enclosed around the handle of his Katana.

Into the clearing stepped the Shadow.

Into the clearing stepped Torrential.

It was a shitty spot for an ambush, and he truly doubted any of his would-be companions would risk attacking someone that they needed in order to fight off their prey for the night. He was useful; even the wild and care-free Lessard girl would admit that, though his former ally of the Vankyroth may be harder pressed to come clean about his skill. Either way, Torrential didn't think much of his companions opinions.

He was here to kill a mutt.

Checking his watch, and noting that he was indeed on time, he sat cross-legged in the middle of the clearing, and closed his eyes, listening to the sounds around him. He was a competent tracker because he relied on all of his senses, and he took the time to hone them whenever possible. A deer crunched a leaf a few miles to the south, two squirrels chased each other over nuts, and the chattering of a mockinbird rose above the din of the forest.

With all of his concentrated listening, it was little wonder that he heard one of his companion's approaching him. With a smile, he spoke.

"I wondered if this was going to be a Solo hunt, after all."

It was Varia who stepped into the clearing, clothed as impractically as ever. Milky cream skin glowed in the night, hardly seeming fitting for the hunt ahead. The only saving grace to her scant clothes were the numerous blades adorning her figure. Fortune would have it at least, that the darkness cast by the new moon kept her numerous piercings and metallic ornaments from glinting in the moonlight.

Behind her, dark shapes took form as several wolves detached from the trees with her. They were lean and ravenous beasts, as wild as Varia's heart. However, as she moved to join Torrential, the animals dogging her steps fell back to wait within the shadows.

“Lovely night for a hunt, wouldn't you say?” Varia inquired with a glint of fire in her wolfish eyes.

"Lovely night indeed." He opened his eyes and looked up at her, letting his gaze travel from her feet to her face, slowly, languidly. He cracked a smile, flash of fangs in the darkness.

"I was pleasantly surprised when you asked me here, Varia. Hunting the mongrel would be most pleasing to me."

“I hope that's not all that's pleasing to you,” Varia replied with a coy wink as she sauntered past him to keep watch for Charles.

He let his eyes wander on her for a little while longer, and he rose to his feet. "You have me curious," he began. "Most Lessards I've heard of - though you're the first I've met in the flesh - seem to be uptight..." He paused, looking for the right word.

"...Dickwads. Yet you seem less so. I imagine you don't get along well with your brothers in fangs."

"Maybe you just haven't met enough of us yet?" Turning, she lounged leisurely with her back to a tree. Everything about the woman seemed wolfish, from the amber hue of her eyes to her coy grin.

He grinned back, liking that particular expression on her face. "I don't think that's a bad thing. Vankyroth, Lessard... all you group types are bad for business. I prefer the thrill of the hunt to the boredom of politics."

“And yet here we both are, same night, same patch of wood, hunting the same werewolf. Me a Lessard, you a... whatever you are. Not so different, eh?” she retorted.

Torrential nodded, one hand touching the silver dagger, the only piece of silver the vampire owned, at his belt. It wasn't nearly enough to take down the werewolf by itself, but at least he wouldn't witness a wolf's eyes grow back after he popped them out.

"I prefer to think of myself as a... free agent." He rolled his neck on his shoulders, arching his brow. "But I agree. Not so different after all."

A pause. Then, "What are you doing after we bag the werewolf?"

Dirty ashen hands reached out beneath a dark green cloak, silver trimmed cuffs taught on the arm slid off the wrist revealing more of the pale figure. His steps were quiet, his breathing almost unexistent. Blackened nails gripped the loose bark of a young sappling, skinning it to expose the green underneath, as they coiled deeper into the young wood.

His first meeting with Varia was over the corpse of a man he’d just come to know. Though he thought nothing of him, the attack against a group he’d sworn allegiance to couldn’t go unnoticed. It was there he was offered the aid he came to know he needed so badly only a few weeks before at the hands of that same wretched wolf and one of her pups. And only a few nights after that he’d found himself in her presence once again, taking her up on the offer.

And so here he was.

“Late, am I?”

He had no need to run his eyes over either of the two, the metal of their blades had already caught his attention long ago. But something was to be said about the poor clothing that Varia wore.

He spoke again, “Lets not linger on me, I’m sure we’ve all places to be for the night.” a tug pullin his dark lips into a crooked smile.

“Ah, and Mr. Tall, Dark and Broody appears,” Varia remarked at Charles' arrival. Torrential's question would apparently have to await an answer for another time. They all had more pressing matters to attend to for the time being.

"Bout time." Torrential quipped, as Varia finished her sentence.

Varia pulled a small dart out of her hair and flashed it to Charles. “Wolfsbane. One drop of this should bring down even the largest of werewolves. Gypsy alchemy,” she explained before tucking it back behind her ear for safe keeping until they needed it.

Torrential cocked his head at the sight of the dart, an eyebrow arching. "Cool toy. Where'd you get it?"

"The gypsies of course," Varia replied mischievously.

"Interesting. Nimble fingers or brute force?"

"Now now, I can't go giving away all of my secrets now can I?" Varia retorted with a wink. “Shall we then?” she added with a wolfish grin before she turned and departed into the woods. The wolves converged around her as she moved, and before long she had broken into a run, keeping even pace with the ravenous beasts.

The setting changes from cursed-wood to Gypsy Camp

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Character Portrait: Torrential Character Portrait: Ileana Nicolae
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#, as written by Tiko
(Post co-written by Tiko and NotAFlyingToy)

Ileana didn't move other than to point towards the small cupboard behind Torrential. The only thing he would find inside would be an assortment of herbs and vials of various alchemical concoctions, but she was subtly feeling around on the small stand at her side for her silver nail file. It wasn't much of a weapon, but if the man turned his back to check the cupboard, she was prepared to use it and make a run for the door.

He grinned at her as she pointed somewhere behind him, but he didn't really follow the direction so much as the movement. Through his predatory eyes, she was a meek and willing servant, pointing out her wares for her master to snack on. He realized that he was enjoying this scenario far too much for it to stop at food. He wasn't really that hungry, anyways.

"Actually, forget the food," he hissed out, taking a step towards her. His nostrils flared, breathing in more of that dark scent. Wolfsomething. Yet again, he pushed it to the back of his mind. "I'd love to see what you have around here. How about giving me the grand tour?"

His fangs, gleaming in the rapidly lightening day, stood out from parted lips as he said the words.

Ileana's breath caught in her throat at the gleam of fangs. Shaky fingers closed around the nail file, palming it as she pressed her back more firmly against the edge of the vardo. These new creatures that walked the night were different than the strigoi of the past. They weren't as easily identified, but those fangs marked him for what he was.

“But... the pact...” she offered meekly, her voice almost a whisper as her heart thudded in her chest.

For many years that pact had kept the gypsy clan and the denizens of the cursed wood from venturing across each others boarders, but the superstitious nature of the gypsies left them unwilling to truly understand the nature of what lay beyond. As a result, they had difficulty discerning one beast from another – or the capacity to understand that these new arrivals knew nothing of the old pacts, or of their predecessors.

Torrential paused at the mention of the pact, this little code word that the girl seemed to throw in front of her as if a shield. He snorted at the idea of some pact, some promise to stay away from fresh meat and bones that beasts like him so craved. How on earth would humans hope to hold off the tide of undead night-walkers?

"Pact?" he asked, with a quirk of a brow. He put his hands on his hips, half turning away from her. "I know of no pact. Even if I did, I would not uphold it. You were made for my fangs, human. Know this." His eye was caught by a particular carving across the room, and he turned to fully investigate it.

"What kind of carving is that?" He raised his hand to jab a finger, the menace in his voice still apparant. He wasn't worried by his full back turned to her; what could a mere mortal possibly hope to accomplish against his might?

It was the opening Ileana was waiting for. In a moment of boldness she choked down her fear and let her survival instincts drive her hand. A flash of silver glinted in the air as she drove the nail file down towards Torrential's now exposed back, so as to wound the creature and allow her to flee the premise.

Sharpened senses picked up on the rustle of cloth, the whizzing through the air as she speared something towards his back. He moved like he was the night, quick and efficient; his right hand flashed forward with blinding speed, catching the stab at it's highest point. Grinning at her to hide his gritted teeth, the nail file bit deep into his palm, going through the other side and-

Burning!?

Silver. Silver. Of course the fucking nail file that the seemingly random woman had just happened to be made of silver. What was next? Was she going to have a hairbrush that doubled as a flamethrower? Was she the goddess of the sun?

Grinning wider and hoping she didn't notice the sweat pouring down his neck, he unleashed a haymaker with his opposite hand, sending her crashing against the back wall. Far too quickly for someone who wasn't supposed to feel pain, he grabbed at the nail file, tearing it from his skin with a high-pitched squeak that he told himself was a manly grunt.

"That." He breathed out, "Was unexpected."

Fortunately for the vampire's manly pride, Ileana was still reeling from the blow he had struck her. She rested slumped in the corner between the stand and the vardo wall, thoroughly dazed, though astoundingly not entirely knocked senseless. Either she was hardier than she looked, or there was more to her than meets the eye.

Her eyes darted to the vardo door, but Torrential barred the way. She swallowed hard, but something stayed her. Perhaps it was the sight of him tearing her nail file free of his hand, or the assortment of weapons that he wore, or the knowledge that he could snap her in half quicker than she could bat an eye... but whatever the reason, instinct told her to stay down and stay quiet.

He liked the look of her crumpled on the floor, that was for sure. Tossing the file at her with a flippant motion, he paced slightly around the room, glaring at her darkly. "Well, well well. What to do with you."

"I came in your humble abode, looking for a tour, and you try and stick me with a nail file? That's not very polite." He grinned down at her, eyes and mouth a stark and striking contrast. "Could just kill you. And eat you, but that wouldn't be as fun. Or,"

He paused in his pacing, whirling to face her fully. "Or you could tell me why you smell like Wolfshard." He'd get the damn name right eventually.

Now, had Ileana been in a better state of mind, she may have made the connection to the wolfsbane that Torrential was asking her about. As it stood, she simply broached a question of her own. “What do you want with me?” It hadn't actually occurred to her that against all odds, this was simply a chance encounter.

He shrugged. "At first? A place to spend the day, and maybe a free meal. Now? I'm curious." He raised a knee, pressing his foot against one wall of the vardo, surrounding her with his size. "What does some random gypsy do with a substance like Wolfcane?" He was getting closer. Lane... Sane... Mane...

“Wolfsbane?” Ileana inquired hesitantly. Torrential's close proximity had her heart racing almost painfully in her chest, and she had the wide-eyed look of a frightened deer about her.

Her gaze briefly shifted past Torrential to the cupboard she had directed him to earlier.

He snapped his fingers and slapped his hand against his knee in a violent, sudden movement that caused Ileana to flinch. "That's it!" He roared, pointing at her, a finger inches away from her face. "Wolfsbane. That's what that shit was called. Been driving me crazy."

He moved away from her as he continued to speak. "Why do you have a supply of wolfsbane?" He sniffed. "Quite an amount of it, too."

“I... I studied with the Shuvani for many years.” It wasn't exactly an explanation, at least not one that Torrential would understand, but it seemed to hold some relevance to Ileana. “I keep many herbs...” she added with a nod of her head towards the cupboard. “In there,” she explained. The thought that he might be here for the wolfsbane had her heart skip a beat. Her supply was running low as it was, and it was so hard to come by this time of year.

"Interesting." He murmered, moving towards the cabinet and flinging it open. One of the hinges creaked dangerously under the force, his eyes scanning the shelves. Basic alchemy package, it looked like; herbs and plants, a turnip, and various other ingredients that he didn't bother to identify. What drew his interest was a small wooden box, lying near the bottom shelf.

Immediately, he snatched it up, shaking it near his ear. "What's this?" The sound of glass smacking off of wood met his ears.

“Don't!” Ileana began as Torrential manhandled the fragile contents of the container.

He paused in his shaking, and glanced up at her. "Why not?" He asked, all curiosity.

“It's fragile,” she replied weakly. Though, there was a spike to her anxiety that was poorly concealed. A quickening of her already rapid pulse.

"Fragile?" He muttered, turning the box over and over in his hands.

"Of course it's fragile. I haven't met something I couldn't break."

He held the box over his head in a throwing position, smiling at her. "Tell me what it is, or we'll see how fragile it can be."

“Please, you don't know how hard it is to come by some of those herbs...” Ileana tried to explain. “They're alchemical mixtures. It's dangerous.” The last part was a lie, but given her already heightened state of anxiety, it would be all but indiscernible at the moment.

"Dangerous? Lady, I'm a vampire." He said, drawing the word out. "If I didn't want dangerous, I'd walk into the sunlight and meditate for a day. Danger is my middle name. I laugh in the face of danger. On a scale of one to danger, I'd be... high on the scale!"

He lifted the box higher, shaking it experimentally. "A bit of danger could be fun, huh?"

“Please, what is it you want?” Ileana asked again.

"That's a question, isn't it." He muttered, opening the box with a flick of his wrist. "What do I want? What does anyone want?"

Peering inside at the assortment of syringes and vials, he came to an answer. "I want Wolfsbane." He declared. "You have Wolfsbane. Let's work out an arrangement."

Torrential's reply left a growing unease in the pit of Ileana's stomach. “What sort of arrangement?” she asked.

"Depends on you." He said, smiling. "If you prove cooperative, this could be the sort of arrangement that is a continued factor. If you prove uncooperative, then it'll be a one time transaction." He smiled wider, incredibly pleased with his own veiled threat.

"Here's the deal; a trade. I give you..." He paused, and then admitted that his vocabulary was exhausted. "I give you life, and you give me a steady supply of wolfsbane. You get to live, and I get to kill werewolves. I think it's a pretty damn good deal."

“You don't want that one then. Check the back of the cupboard, the vials there... on the top shelf,” Ileana explained. What Torrential held in his hand was too diluted to bring down a werewolf efficiently, and while the thought crossed her mind to send him away with that, so as to salvage her own supply, she decided the long term consequences wouldn't be worth it. “I can try, but you don't understand, it doesn't grow this time of year. It's very difficult to come by...”

Torrential was silent as he walked back to the cupboard, sifting through ingredients with acute carelessness, sending the ingredients scattering with his big palms. He pulled two of the vials from the shelf, inhaling deeply from them as his eyes slid closed. The scent reminded him of Varia, for some reason. He grinned.

"It's also very difficult not to kill you. I'm sure you understand." He didn't turn back to her, swirling the vials around in front of his eye. In his mind, blood flowed. Wolf blood. The savage grin spread, spearing his bottom lip with his fangs.

Ileana didn't have much of an answer to that. Turning her gaze away she pulled her knees up to her chest and hoped that Torrential would simply leave now that he had what he wanted. Of course, with the sun on the rise, that seemed unlikely.

“I'll do what I can.”

He turned to face her, the vials in his hands gleaming. He nodded at her - once, then twice, the first display of nerves that the hardened warrior displayed in their entire encounter. "That's good. Yes. I'll return every couple of months or so - or when I run out. Wolf killing is a delicate business."

"Now, your scar's suddenly unattractive, so I'm going to probably sleep for a while. Gettin' tired of looking at it. What did that, anyways?"

Ileana brushed her finger tips over the scar tissue around her eye, growing rather self-conscious at Torrential's words. “I don't remember.” It was an odd answer to say the least.

"You don't remember." He said, flatly. "Right. Don't need to be a bitch; was just making conversation."

He turned and headed towards her bed, cracking his neck by rolling it on his shoulders. "I'm going to sleep. Try not to wake me. I'm testy when I wake up."

He then folded himself into a crouch, his elbows hooking his knees close to his chest, chin resting on top of them. He slept curled, like a combatant ready to spring forward.

Within moments, his breathing deepened, he rocked forwards slightly, and he was asleep.

The setting changes from gypsy-camp to Gambit's Bar

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Torrential was ready for a shitstorm.

His bad mood had followed him down from his failed hunting ground - the bitch's friends had looked at the very last minute and he already had the whole hissing, saliva-slinging, elongated-fangs thing going when he had to tear himself away. Yet again, he was denied his first drink in far, far too long. The mourning period had taken it's toll on him, but he never expected it to fuck with his brain the way it had been the past few days.

He needed to drink. And he wasn't talking about any whiskey, either.

His eyes were a laser scope, his sight line a cross hair as he methodically swept the bar, taking in the atmosphere of the place. The more memorable of the times he'd been here, he'd been smelling the dried blood of his dead ward on a monster's breath and was recruited to hunt a bloodthirsty werewolf.

Always a fun time at Gambit's.

There was a woman with far too many piercings and a bright blue mohawk that would do nicely for his purposes tonight. His look always attracted those types, and fuck it all if he was going to work for a meal after that last disaster. Settling himself down beside her, he lowered his glasses just enough so she got a hint of eyelash, and began to pour the butter over his tone.

"Pardon for interrupting, bitch," He purred, as her gaze met his. "but you got that look about ya."

Her eyes hardened, turning in her stool to face him fully. His smile was slow, seductive, creeping onto his features.

Hook. Line. Sinker.

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Torrential immediately pivoted, enjoying the way the woman's curse words slid down his ears, vibrating into his spine on a delicious lick of sound. He raised both eyebrows, sweeping the woman with too many piercings aside with one arm. The new challenger was striking, he decided, as he swept his gaze from her shoes to the twin barrels that were levelled at his gaze.

Damn, did he like the sight of pistols at him. Especially in the hands of a woman.

Throwing his (ever so slightly) inappropriate attractions aside for the moment, he began to circle, moving a few steps to his left, keeping his gaze locked. On his waist, beneath the folds of his longcoat, were the twin pistols he favoured, but the sawed-off that was holstered on his back was a far shorter pull, but more obvious. He could probably take a few rounds, and she clearly didn't want to chat.

"Absolutely," He agreed, before kicking at the stool he had vacated, sending it airborne and flying in the direction of her upper torso. Using the moment of distraction, he pulled out his shotgun, ducked low, and squeezed off a round in her area.

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Torrential wasn't an idiot - just incredibly egotistic. After the shot went wide, he twisted, watching as the shots arced past his torso and abdomen in twin explosions. He almost laughed at her scrambling as his stool clattered into a bystander, the man squeaking and hitting the floor. He straightened, his hands quickly cocking the shotgun, expelling the shell from the chamber.

"Nice roll. If I had known we were in the Matrix, I would've worn my flowing trenchcoat." He shot back. But he didn't like this distance. He had lost track of her in the sudden motion, but when she popped back out into his sight, he dove in the opposite direction, cutting the dive into a roll to attempt to get a new angle of approach. Torrential wasn't a ranged fighter; he needed to close this distance.

When his roll ended, he leveled the shotgun, firing a second blast aimed squarely at the table, hoping to rid her of her cover.

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In a speed that only one of his kind could accomplish, Torrential closed the distance between him and his prey, the shotgun flipped around in his hands so both of his gloves cupped the smoking barrel. Gritting his teeth against the sizzling of his own skin, he swung in a full baseball swing in mid-run, aiming for her head. But he misjudged the distance, the butt end of the gun arcing towards her poised arms.

He was grinning now; grinning so hard that his elongated fangs bit into his lower lip, blood trickling down his chin. The fight. The fight.

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A chunk of cartilage came off his ear with the bullet, and a pleasant sting of pain accompanied it. He paid it little heed. What had his full attention was the sudden spikes that were whipped through the air, as they appeared far more threatening. Realizing his mistake in getting so close without a plan of attack, he threw himself to the left, the velocity of the dodge sending him to her right, closing that much more distance. Despite his efforts, he still bit back a growl after one of the stakes hit him in the thigh.

His left shoulder thudded into the floorboard as he drew his combat knife with his right hand, stabbing it downwards towards her thight.

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As Torrential hopped to his feet, the knife in his hand still rock steady despite the shrugged-off stool attack, he began to appreciate the slow burn that came from the-

Silver. Silver stakes.

Well, fuck.

With one hand, he ripped the stake out of his thigh, groaning in equal parts pain and relief as the burning sensation stopped abruptly, along with the sight of his dark blood. He tossed the stake away, now fully aware of the dangers surrounding him in regards to the woman.

"Places to be?" He chuckled, wiping his hand on his already darkening pants. "Well, then I suppose you should cancel."

Not his best work. But what was significantly better was the step towards her, the darkening scowl, the twirling knife in his grip.

"What's your motive, here." He snarled. "Another dead vampire? What have I done to you lately?"

The setting changes from gambits-bar to Cursed Wood

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Character Portrait: Charles Lemarr Character Portrait: Varia Vulpes Character Portrait: Maria Raghild Character Portrait: Torrential
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#, as written by Tiko
(Post co-written by NotAFlyingToy, Tiko and Leli)

Varia's route had taken the group deep into the forest to a secluded stretch of land at the base of a tall escarpment well east of either gypsy or castle Vankoryth. While she herself did not know the location of the werewolves, the wolves did. They knew where to tread and where not, and she had let them take the lead. Scattered about the ground were the remnants of a camp, wolf furs thrown about and a burnt out fire evident. A lone figure sat nearby, its back to the trio of vampires. Tilting her head back Varia scented the air, but the wind wasn't in their favor. All she could pick up was the general stench of werewolf clinging to the area. Where Torrential had noted the earlier meeting place was lacking in ambush capabilities, this place was quite the opposite. The escarpment blocked an easy route of escape and offered little in the way of cover.

The wolves converged around Varia, their hackles raised as the ravenous beasts anticipated a much needed meal to come.

Torrential's first instinct proved to be a predictable one, his hands reaching for both of his pistols, twirling them unnecessarily as they went from holster to fist, the sight on them true, pointed towards the figure. His lips curled slightly, revealing the bleach white fangs of an old vampire.

"I've waited for this," he snarled, his voice kissing the lower octaves of his range. "What's the word, Charles? Are we making a smear of it?"

Drawing in a deep breath Charles brought his eyes upwards to empty sky. His hands clenched and opened to his breaths, steadily growing quicker until a cackle chewed through his lips. Yellowed fangs flashed from near black gums as he lurched forward, left foot leading. “Don’t kill it, the nights too short, just -he paused, still facing the new moon- no, perhaps you’re right, it ought to die.”

As the trio of vampires was revving up for a battle, several of the wolves turned about. Something downwind had riled the beast and they stanced off towards the woods beyond. It was from there that four more figured stepped, three hulking werebeasts and the dominating figure of a red haired woman. No moon shone over-head, but it would seem Maria had been hard at work teaching the werewolves to utilize their affliction without the moons aid.

The three werebeasts fanned out behind the woman and despite their burly wolfen forms, it was she who seemed to dominate the group. Silver eyes, fiery red hair and the iron collar about her neck marked her out for who she was. She said nothing though as the werebeasts passed her by and closed in around the trio of vampires. She herself held back for the time being, observing.

“I thought you said there were only two of them...” Varia remarked dryly. Five werewolves, three vampires and only one dart. The odds could be better.

"Two, five, ten. What does it matter? They all bleed." But Torrential's nervous hands belied his brave words, one hand letting the gun slide with a clack back into its holster. In the same hand, he drew a dagger, beginning to move to his right and backwards, slightly, putting more distance between himself and the advancing trio of beasts.

He sensed glorious death, this day.

"Say the word, you two. I'm ready."

The word would never come as the werewolves broke into a run, converging upon the vampires with all the speed and ferocity of their wolvish nature. The wolves that barred their way had the sense fall back and instead they turned to easier prey, the lone figure. Splitting off from the group, the pack surged into motion. Throwing themselves at its shadowy form, snarls and yelps filling the night.

The exact extent of the commotion going on behind the trio was difficult to ascertain with the three werwolves bearing down on them. Varia being both the closest and the least experienced was the first to go down under the bone jarring impact of the foremost werewolf. The impact left her prone and caught beneath the muscled form of the werebeast, its jaws snapping for her face as she worked to hold it at bay long enough to get her hand around one of her blades. The two remaining wolves surged past their brethen to engage Charles and Torrential.

The first contact Charles heard wasn’t his fist to the side of a werewolves head, but the sound of Varia being driven back. He couldn’t for the life of him remember when he’d fought beside others before, even before he’d turned over in his grave. And it was apparent as he blasted forward pounding the skull and snout of the advancing bitch as it tried just to keep a steady footing. Driving it back away from the other two Charles charged forward intending to end the conflict before it found itself tearing through his flesh.

It seemed luck was never on his side though as the werewolf rending upwards with a great claw struck Charles just as he targetted its lower body. Catching the blow in the ribs and avoiding all but a bruise he gripped at the ground, finding a piece of wood from the abandoned camp at reach of his hand. The end was charred black, and the singed bark chipped away as the stick came down on the werewolves head until finally it snapped.

Quickly stepping forward Charles reached out with his left hand grabbing the mutt by the back of its neck and pulling it towards the broken piece of wood that he drove into its neck.

“Filthy mutt!”

The one that charged Torrential was much, much luckier.

As the warrior backpedaled, firing a handful of rounds into the beast, he wobbled on a chunk of errant debris, just enough to send his balance slightly off kilter. It was this advantage that the wolf pressed with a snarl, leaping to his suddenly weakend left side. Twisting and giving up his pistol, Torrential attempted to drive his silver deep into the werewolf's hide, but missed by a mile.

He felt the teeth sink into his shoulder before he registered the miss, and gave a grunt of pain. Readjusting his strategy, he threw himself backwards, freeing up both of his hands as the werewolf attempted to take a second piece out of him, causing the white jaws to snap close to his face. Growling in satisfaction at the dodge, Torrential grabbed the werewolf by the scruff of it's neck, pushing it off and rolling it so that he was suddenly was on top.

Just like that, the advantage was on the Vampire's side. Three quick plunges with the silver, and the warrior leapt up, bleeding and satisfied, looking eagerly for another kill, unable to stop the rolling chuckle that escaped him.

Meanwhile, Varia's own struggle was well underway. Claws racked against her exposed skin but through sheer ferocity of her own, Varia managed to keep the werwolves snapping jaws clear of her face while her free hand finally gained purchase on one of her shorter blades. Drawing it out and across, the silvered steel sliced deeply into the werebeasts throat causing it to rear back in pain. The movement gave her the opening and leverage needed to utilize both hands to drive the blade up through its lower jaw until it was protruding from the top of the beasts skull.

Pushing the twitching carcass off her, Varia regained her footing and wiped the grit and blood from her face. Smoothly drawing one of her remaining blades she tossed it to Charles. The twitching beast at his feet was surprisingly enough, not dead. The wound was debilitating, but rapid regenerative capabilities would have it back into fighting shape in a matter of moments.

“Finish it off!” she yelled.

Maria meanwhile had shed her wolf furs as her body contorted, muscles bulging and sinew tearing while her skeletal structure rearranged itself. Thick russet fur sprouted along her skin and her face elongated into the fierce visage of a wolf, complete with a muzzle full of vicious fangs that dripped heated saliva.

As Maria surged into motion, it was again Varia who was caught in the path of the approaching werewolf due to proximity. Reaching for the dart tucked behind her ear, she quickly noted its absence, apparently knocked loose in her earlier struggle. She had learned her lesson though and rather than take the beast head on, she dove to the side, spotting the fallen dart as she grabbed it up mid tumble. Maria meanwhile had her sights set on another and simply passed Varia by. Charles had been a thorn in her side for months and his presence had brought her rage to a boil within her veins. So eager was she to spill his blood once and for all that she let it drive her into a blind frenzy.

Catching the blade in the same hand that had seconds ago gripped the charred wood Charles pulled up on the thick hair behind the downed beasts head. Running his tongue over his fangs he pulled upwards on the wolf until its neck was level to his eyes, the feet of the werewolf just barely touching ground.

In one fluid motion he drew the short blade across the throat of the wolf, splattering himself with warm blood and crippling the wolf for once and all. Raising the decapitated head to his lips he drew in the blood, grimacing as it swirled into the small cuts that lined the inside of his mouth. A bloody smile crept onto his face just as Maria surged onto him.

As it was a night without moon he was at his strongest, and she at her worst, or so he thought. It was like their first meeting, though reversed. Meeting Maria head on in charge without blade Charles struck upwards with a single motion of his body, arms seeking ribs as they blasted towards the softer parts of Maria. His legs extending fully from a bend as he drove forward and hopefully into the beast.

He wouldn't meet her head on and immediately exchange blows, she wasn't some juvenile whelp to be quelled with a stick and a shiny blade, and Charles wasn't on his own either. Though he had no doubt that his blow would be the final, of this he would make sure, he had no qualms with sharing the spoils of battle. And so at the end of his tackle Charles let one knee fall slightly, his body twisting like a marionette to throw Maria down onto her side while he scurried away from her heavy, soon to be, corpse.

Rising back from the ground, Charles' sheer ferocity had caught even Maria off guard. It was a ferocity of the likes that he had not displayed in their previous altercations. Shaking herself off she rose up onto her rear legs and bellowed out a challenging roar, the sound rolling off the escarpment like thunder.

Many of Charles' blows landed true, but as with their earlier encounters her regenerative capabilities proved impressively efficient. Fractured ribs knitted back together even as she moved and bruises had faded almost as quickly as they were inflicted. Taking a single menacing step towards Charles', Maria's frenzied state left her eyes on him, and him alone.

Torrential's gaze was drawn to the scuffle between Charles and the wolf, the wolf who's gaze had been haunting him; locked onto his across a forest floor, just before he saw her back, retreating through the underbrush. A growl that surprised him with its ferocity ripped through his body, seemingly seeping in through his legs, drawing strength from the core of the earth itself from the noise that he emitted.

His legs were churning, head lowering, and before he knew what exactly had become of his insanity, the thick Vampire warrior was launching himself into a full on tackle at the distracted wolf, the silver dagger still clenched in his white-knuckled grip. His arms gripped around her waist, feeling the rough, russet fur on the side of his face as his momentum carried them both to the floor.

Pressing his advantage, he dug the hilt of his dagger deeper into his palm, trying to get a good grip on it. With a snap of his elbow, he lashed at her abdomen, the short blade not nearly sinking deep enough for his liking. He aimed for a second attack, but the singing pain in his shoulder caused his grip to fade. With a grimace of horror, he felt the gleaming weapon slip out of his grip and fall to the grass.

Taking the opening provided by Torrential, Varia leaped into the fray with a wolfish howl. In a dangerous gambit she drove the dart deeply into the werewolfs back, but the combination of Torrential's knife wound and Varia's actions had the beast more angered than wounded. Knocking Varia back with a wayward blow, Maria leaped clear of the scuffle, colliding with the side of the escarpment about seven feet up. Claws rend into rock and earth as she coiled her muscles and launched herself back down at Torrential with a snarl.

Torrential leaped to his feet as Maria disengaged, and his eyes tracked her leap skyward, his grimace becoming curled in a smile with the thrill of the fight. As the wolf leapt back towards the warrior, Torrential stepped to the side, taking a firm grip of the wolf's neck as it stretched towards him. With a roar, a twirl, and a tightening of his lower muscles, he used her own momentum forward to send her crashing back into the wall. He took the brief respite to snatch up his silver blade, ensuring it was gripped in his good arm.

"Having fun yet, mongrel!?" He roared.

Maria got back to her feet unsteadily shaking her head in a daze at the impact with the escarpment. A deep warning growl rumbled from her throat but another shake of her head betrayed that something wasn't quite right with her. She seemed unsteady on her feet as she backed up against the rocky wall to keep from being surrounded.

Pleased with himself Charles advanced on Maria. The wolfsebane had obviously taken effect, had it not she would have likely already been upon Torrential trying to bash him from side to side while snapping with her shark-like maw. The others may have held some disdain against her, but he’d wrought his into an obsession he could only cure through her death, or better yet, pain. Perhaps killing her wasn’t the solution. His wounds hadn’t lasted him such a short time. The shame and scars both carved into his body still tinged with a fiery pain, however imaginary it was.

Slowly bringing himself to within a short reach of Maria Charles let himself be absorbed by his thoughts, allowing the complete darkness of the night to grow and fester within him. From his shadow an ooze seemed to grow. It was this that made a blade unecessary for him as he needn’t use special metals to kill a beast when he could simply rip it apart, bit by bit. The gas though was not capable of much more than to numb the eyes and cause smell to falter. Toxic in odour it was akin to heaving deep breaths of rotted eggs, feces and corspes all blended together into a rotted mess. With every step this vile substance grew, swirling it’s way around Charles until his entire body, shadow and even the trail he left was a great body of black smoke.

The thick stench of Charles' miasma overtook Maria's senses. It was so very similar to the stench of decay she had grown to loathe and despise. Fragmented memories assaulted her, memories of tortured screams and of flesh rotting clean to bone beneath the administrations of the Lessard family. They were loathsome creatures of the same sort that stood before her now. It had her nostrils flaring angrily, adding blind rage to her already disorientated state. Meanwhile, Varia had regained her footing and armed herself once more. Between the three vampires, Maria was suitably pinned down, her back to the wall as the trio closed in.

A deep laugh found freedom from the smoke, but only for an instant as it shot forward carrying a short step behind it Charles with fangs barred and claws ready to reave through fur and flesh into the juicy bits of Maria. With no desire to end her suffering here Charles aimed to torture the wolf as much as possible for the night, and perhaps longer if the others permitted.

Okay, the smoking shit? Freaky. But Torrential could look past it, seeing as the source of the smoking, rotting, disgusting mess was on his side of this particular encounter. With a flaring of nostrils, the warrior was reminded of why he didn't usually work with other of his own kind.

Well, with a few exceptions. Varia came to mind.

Rolling his neck on big shoulders, Torrential prepared for a bit of a bloodbath. Unlike his stinky partner in this hunt, Torrential wasn't too fond of torture. He grew impatient. He was more a fan of a straight, simple death, and he prepared for it now. Keeping his joints loose, he watched the big werewolf with a critical eye, looking for a weakness.

Just as Charles lunged foreward, as did the big Vampire, but from the opposite side. Moving quickly, he thrust the dagger from low to high in an arc, his target; the ribcage of his opponent.

A sweeping back handed blow knocked Torrential's swing wide, but that left her open for Charles' onslaught. Fangs and claws tore at flesh, but the burly beast wasn't down yet. With a bodily heave, she drove the pair back from her, slashing almost blindly with a forearm to keep them at bay. The wounds inflicted by Charles continued to heal over almost as quickly as he could inflict them, but the ragged knife wound across her ribcage remained. The wolfsbane was making quick work of her and a shudder ran through her body as her bestial form began to recede. Waring against the affects of the toxins in her blood, Maria seemed caught somewhere between woman and beast as she struggled to regain her stronger form.

Torrential had slight difficulty recovering from the ferocity of the backhand, but before long he was reset in his offensive position, and he liked what he saw. The mongrel was dazed, stunned; looking like a moth approaching a flame. That shit that Varia seemed to carry seemed to do the trick.

Switching the knife to a reverse grip, he darted in, plunging the dagger into her ribcage, utilizing the full force of his elbow.

Half-formed and twisted hands closed around Torrential's own, but Maria's claws and fur continued to recede, leaving only pale skin behind. With the knife buried between her ribs, her breath was ragged and labored, a tinge of blood upon her lips. Gone was the beast, and it its wake was simply a woman, battered and defeated. The pain and fear reflected in her eyes betrayed her realization of that.

With a grin, the dark glasses met the woman's delicious expression with a nod, as if to say yes, that just happened. As much as he could in her iron grip, he twisted the knife further. With the scraping of metal against bone, Torrential's efforts drew a grunt of pain out of her and a fresh trickle of blood from her lips.

Charles had let Torrential lead for a moment, and saw that he was right to do so. Revoking the noxious smoke he was upon Maria, no longer a beast, in a second. He looked at her face, the blood trailing along her lip and couldn't help but to enjoy the scene with a smile that, under any other circumstances, would have seem terribly misplaced. But he wasn't content to merely watch as someone else took away her life.

"Enough!" He shouted to his companion in at least this nights hunt. "Why kill her when you can prolongue her misery, have her crumble beneath your feet for more than a mere moment?"

Varia scowled from the side, lowering her weapon. "Just kill her and be done with it!" she retorted.

Torrential gazed at the werewolf for a long second, allowing her pain and fear to wash over his senses. He smiled. "So unfortunate for you that I'm not in the mood to start a feud, Mongrel. Else I would kill you where you stand, and Smoky the bear wouldn't have his fun."

With another wrench, he let the knife pop free, turning away from his prize. "Besides. There's another wolf to hun-"

He paused, straightening, his head whipping from left to right in rapid movements. "Where the fuck's the last one?"

With another grunt, Maria fell to her knees, head bowed. One bloody hand reached up to grip at the rocky escarpment as if even now she would make to rise, but the strength just wasn't there.

Varia on the other hand seemed thoroughly disgusted at the decision to not kill the werewolf. Turning away in ire, she threw her weapon down upon the ground with a scowl. As long as Maria lived she was a threat to the Lessard's, but there was little she could do at the moment without Torrential backing her on the matter. Besides, the wolfsbane would kill her sure enough.

Turning to shout at Varia for demanding the death of what he'd worked so hard and waited so long to capture Charles' attention was taken away by the words of Torrential.

"You sent your wolves after it didin't you? Did they do nothing but lead us into an ambush?"

"Some ambush." Torrential muttered.

"One nonetheless." Charles snapped in retort.

Varia waved her hand towards the surrounding ground that was littered with the broken bodies of wolves. “They did their purpose in finding the place. Wolves don't fair well against werewolves.”

Torrential was inclined to agree. "All's well that end's well, Charlie. Though another notch in my belt would've been nice."

He bared his teeth in a feral smile.

"You'll have your notch, but I'll have my fun before then." Turning to Maria Charles watched over her as she grabbed at the rocks of the escarpment. He had no room for her at his temporary home, and was in no position to take her leagues upon leagues away, not without more wolfesbane at least. So until then he would take her to the castle, chain her in the dungeons and forget to mention her to the clan.

The setting changes from cursed-wood to Gambit's Bar

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It wasn't very often that a crazy-woozy non-human came staggering into the bar with his jacket over his head and looking as if he'd been fairly roughed up. While this was known to happen from time to time, Torrential found the entire prospect incredibly amusing.

After all, he was kind of a dick.

The vampire walked towards the man, his hand drawing a dagger with mirth in his eyes, evident by the arch of his eyebrow.

As soon as he got close, however, he began bellowing. "SIR. LOOK OUT. THERE IS A SPILLED DRINK ON THE FLOOR AT YOUR FEET. DO NOT MOVE FORWARD, OR YOU WILL FALL."

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Torrential blinked down at the smurfy woman, giving her a long, slow glance from foot to head before speaking. "Shush, you. I'm attempting to assist this man! He is in dire need!"

He whirled back towards the half-breed, immediately throwing his own jacket over the dude's head and placing his boot atop it. "SIR. CALM DOWN. REMAIN CALM. NOBODY HERE IS TRYING TO HURT YOU. WE'RE TRYING TO UNDERSTAND WHAT YOU'RE SAYING, BUT IF YOU CONTINUE TO ATTEMPT TO REMOVE THE SAFETY COVERING, I'LL BE FORCED TO TAZE YOU."

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"SIR. SIR. PLEASE CALM DOWN. DOCTOR SMURFENHEIMER AND I ARE DISAGREEING ON YOUR DIAGNOSES. SHE SEEMS TO BELIEVE THAT YOU ARE COMPLETELY LUCID AND ARE NOT FEELING THE EFFECTS OF THE DRUGS CLEARLY COURSING THROUGH YOUR SYSTEM. YOU ARE AT MONGO'S HOSPITAL FOR DERANGED PATIENTS; ALL THIS IS IN YOUR HEAD. PLEASE CALM DOWN."

He grinned down at the short woman. "It isn't trouble, dear Liza Smurfenheimer, M.D. I'm merely assisting this patient in walking." He grabbed Veji's arm, jerking him roughly. "CAN YOU WALK, SIR? I DON'T WANT TO TAZE-"

With a sudden shatter, the shot glass erupted off of Torrential's ear, sending small shards of glass spider-webbing across the vampire's face, ending in miniature trails of blood. With a shout, he pulled roughly on the half-Saiyan's arm, moving to get behind him in case of more projectiles. "We're under attack!" He roared, in a thick scottish accent. "Roight. M'lad, save me from the fockin' grenades, mahn!"

In this short range, he stank of whiskey.

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"Soldier, I dunnae know what yer talkin' aboot. Yeh cannae undahstaaahnd me prolem, bei'n sco'ish when tha wee lickle Germans crashed over yon hill. I aelmost died. But I press fahrward, laddie. I press fahrward and I dun' thank aboot goin back, ya'ear?"

And suddenly, the hands gripped the half-breed, fists tugging the coat harder around Veji's head, making old-fashioned reigns out of the thick material. Grinning wildly, he kicked at Veji's flank. "Yer a warhorse!" he barked, in a standard American Drill Segeant way.

"Listen up, ya buck o'queer! I'm going to ride your maggot behind into battle with nothin' but a lance, and if your sally sissy ass don't die in the charge by golly I'll whip you myself! You hearing me, bucko! I'll... fuckin'... tan yer..."

And with a sudden slump, the jacket fell from Veji's eyes; the incredibly drunk dickish Vampire finally succumbing to the gallon of whiskey he imbibed in a manner most fitting; on the floor, face in a puddle of someone else's vomit.

Picturesque.

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The vampire's body was nailed down in four different places; stakes through its hands and feet, pinning it to the dark, cracked earth of the Dark Forest. Above it stood Torrential, pacing back and forth quickly, his pace agitated and wary.

"Yer gonna pay for this'un, 'Rential." The vampire hissed.

Torrential lifted a brow. "Am I indeed? I disagree. I have methods of disposing of you, Leonidas. Methods that involve the same way that you helped dispose of a friend of mine. The Irish rebellions truly tore you up so much to leave you desperate enough to come here, didn't they."

"Gon' kill ya. The clans'll know. No matter where ya hide me; they'll know."

"I have no intentions of hiding you." Torrential said, grinning and stilling. "In fact, there's a wonderful woman I'd like you to meet. I contacted her as soon as I found you; she should be here any minute. I think you'll enjoy this, Leonidas. You'll enjoy it much."

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Torrential chuckled. "It was no trouble; I wanted to be able to enjoy him while I could. I knew that when you showed up, the only fun I'd get is watching. Oh, but I'm being rude. Timo, this is Leonidas Dol Flurith, alias Marcus Cain, alias Dracula Farnston, alias Ghandi." He said the last one with a simple nod, as if to say 'yes, that Ghandi. "He's one of the main reasons for the Ireland Rebellions. Led a clan of vampires into ruin while warring with Dominic Mulligan - the wonderful vampire friend of mine you took care of?"

"Fuck ye got 'ere, 'Rential? Som fockin' woman gon' do me in?"

Torrential regarded the downed vampire lord as he would a cockroach under his shoe. "One thing I've hated about you all along, Leonidas, is that you can never say my fucking name right. There's a beginning part before the 'rential'. More to the point, however," He pointed towards Timo. "She's not 'some fockin' woman.' She's your worst nightmare."

He grinned at her. "The show's yours, my friend."

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The dead man flinched and withered from the pain, letting out a sudden moan, hands clutching and wiggling from their staked points that pierced through bone and flesh and kept him pinned to the ground. With a yelp, he voiced his pain, bucking, attempting to get him off of her. The stake of his left boot wasn't as free as the others; in fact, if he tore upwards, he'd have a leg free and he'd be able to flee from this nightmare-

Nightmare. What kind of Nightmares did Vampires have?

"Dhampir," he snarled, through his fangs. "Ye can go fuck yerself. Tha's my choice."

The setting changes from dark-woods to Terra

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This is my character's random speech. "Hot damn," said Torrential. "We're helping out!"

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Torrential can type /me and an action to start the In Character off differently.

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"Shielding at twenty-two percent and falling. Left thruster knocked out. Speed at forty-five... fifty... sixty five..."

Kane shut off the annoying fucking voice, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply as the Prison Escort Rabbitplummeted earthward. Gritting his teeth, he fought with the pilot stick, desperately trying to gain altitude as his last thruster gave out with a sputter. Smoke whirled behind the ship and the instrument panels sparked and flickered, changing a multitude of colours they were definitely not designed to do.

He glanced behind him, towards the storage compartment where his partner rested in Cryo sleep, their cargo across from her in chains. It had taken a lot of good men to capture the bastard, and here they were; spiralling out of control on some planet because of a lucky shot on takeoff.

Kane took a single moment to glance towards a small device, strapped into the co-pilot's chair. He had a decision to make. He wasn't landing - not easily, with the storage compartment intact. They'd promised each other. The device was the priority.

With a muttered curse, Kane pressed the "Awaken" button, and then flipped the eject switch, and the storage compartment released with a hiss, letting his partner and the cargo fling off, earthbound without thrusters. With the lessened load, the cockpit straightened slightly, still crashing, but a much more pillowy landing.

"Sorry, Ariel," he muttered, as the Rabbit soared over the Dark Woods.

The ship skipped once over the rocky ground of the ruins area, before skidding to a halt in the hard earth.

Cursing and spitting, Kane kicked open the cockpit, dragging himself out of the cockpit, slowly filling with biofoam to prevent fires. Landing on his back, he stared at the sky, breathing hard.

"Fuckin' money ain' worth it." He muttered. "Fuckin' nothin' worth it."

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Torrential grins widely.

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Torrential half-smirked as he watched Timo work, going at the vampire flesh and rending it with the joys that some children attack a birthday cake. The gruesome sight made him think, carefully, about this half-alliance they'd struck. He was all for revenge against certain individuals; had hoped that he'd been able to do it for Dominic, he supposed. But he'd need no trace of the bodies, and he'd need to make sure that the two of them couldn't be traced back to the murders.

Oh, he had much use for Ms. Timo.

Leonidas, the once brave and proud, had been reduced to quivering whimpers under Timo's ministrations, and he had to let out a bitter laugh at the memory of Leonidas leading a charge into battle, cutting down vampires left and right. "Look at you, Leonidas," he muttered, grinning. "Look at you."

"Ohhhh g-g-g-god," The downed vampire shrieked, and bucked hard at the contact, attempting to put distance between himself and the abomination. But there was nowhere to run. Nowhere to turn.

"Make sure he cannot be identified, Timo," Torrential said, quietly.

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With a crack, the sound of Leonidas' spine snapping rended into the night air, leaving Torrential feeling strangely satisfied. He waved away her sheepishness, folding his arms as he watched her work.

Leonidas' howls rose even higher, shaking the leaves above them as his screams of pain led to a quiet sobbing of numbness. He cried out various names, in a deep voice, the syllables of an alien tongue murmuring higher and higher in his trauma.

Torrential began flicking a zippo, watching as the nude Dhampir worked, curious about her ministrations. "Do you consume all of the flesh?"

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Character Portrait: Torrential
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Torrential half-smiled, watching the ingestion process, his eyes alight with a foreign and odd emotion. He had thought he'd be disgusted by her kind and her habits; the way that she could consume his brethren in a gruesome and vile way wasn't something he was used to. Hell, she had killed his... friend? Closest thing to a friend he'd had, he supposed, and gee, wasn't that sad?

Perhaps it was the intense lonliness of a thousand years of walking alone, or perhaps it was the beautiful destruction he'd witnessed here and now, on this beautiful night. Either way, Torrential felt a stirring inside of him, not being able to take his eyes off of her form and the goopy mess that was once one of his greatest rivals inside of her.

He smiled slyly at her.

"You are a magnificent creature." He said, his voice gravelly. "I have many more enemies, Timo. I would appreciate your assistance in this manner, for future encounters. What do you say to that?"