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The Multiverse

Mandragora University

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a part of The Multiverse, by RemÃĻus.

Headquarters of the Ardelean Society, once serving as the pinnacle of scientific advancement within Lutetia, it is now a rather shoddily-kept building within which the Society continues their tireless work for the good of their city.

The Afterman holds sovereignty over Mandragora University, giving them the ability to make limited changes.

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Setting

NOTE: Please contact The Afterman if you are planning to make an Ardelean Society character if you are interested in joining. This is to help eliminate in-character confusion. Thank you.


The once highly-esteemed academy of sciences within Lutetia. It is of an ornate Gothic architecture, looming over the locale with its glorious stature, its grounds covering a sizable number of acres. As of late, the University has seen little upkeep; kudzu vines creep along the windows, the stone and marble that shape the buildings themselves accumulating years of dirt. It is a gloomy-looking habitat to be sure, but the endeavors and accomplishments that transpire within make this place as renowned as it is.

The Mandragora University was erected many centuries ago, initially as a grand manor commissioned by a mysterious lord whose name is lost to history. It was built to his exact specifications, its design a testament to his wealth and influence over the area. Once he passed on, new tenants came and went, living out their years of luxurious life in a house large enough to befit their egos.

The manor would find itself condemned after the occurrence of several fatal accidents; the fate of drunken and depraved socialites within the weakened structure of the manor.

The property was eventually bought by one Gabriel Ardelean, a self-made multi-billionaire who was passionate about science. Utilizing his vast fortune, he was able to purchase and fully repair the manor, as well as buy more land around it and add new buildings.

This was the beginning of Mandragora University, and the Ardelean Society. Guided by a desire to advance Lutetia's interests through scientific means. With his money, Gabriel was able to provide the best research technology for his academy, ensuring the University's pursuits would produce top-notch results.

Centuries later, however, some supernatural residents of Lutetia took up hostility towards the Society, and the University was overrun by a horde of supernatural beings, who saw fit to slaughter every last member of the Society, all except one; Montresor Ardelean.


It has been many years since that fateful day, and today Mandragora University stands still, although in a state of disrepair. Having slowly been rebuilt over the many decades since its falling, the Society is once again returning to its place as one of Lutetia's most influential powers, and Mandragora University stands as a testament to their perseverance.
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Mandragora University

Headquarters of the Ardelean Society, once serving as the pinnacle of scientific advancement within Lutetia, it is now a rather shoddily-kept building within which the Society continues their tireless work for the good of their city.

Minimap

Mandragora University is a part of Luskonios.

6 Characters Here

The Slayers [13] "If it's dead, kill it again!"
Thaddeus Cael Ardelean [4] "That which seperates Man from Monster is the desire to hold onto one's own soul."
Isaac Irons [4] "Back to hell, creature."
Vayne Salazar [1] "Mortality is a fleeting specter; an apparition that has long ago ceased to haunt me."
Nox Mellencamp [1] "Sanity is relative."
Newt [0] Fallen angel

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2 Characters Present

Character Portrait: Thaddeus Cael Ardelean Character Portrait: The Slayers
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The sound of ceaseless chatter pervaded over the classroom as a wave of culminating voices. Students, eager to begin the new year, talked amongst themselves, exchanging ideas and stories alike. The new year found them in the class taught by Thaddeus Cael Ardelean himself; Mandragora University's dean and head of the Ardelean Society. It was the fourth year for this particular group of aspiring Hunters. It was a small group, consisting of only twenty candidates.

Statistically speaking, only five of them would make it through the year to graduation. Whether loss of nerve or life was the determining factor in their failure was yet to be seen. However, that was not to be a topic of discussion amongst themselves. Instead, the anticipation of what awaited them in this class got the better of their more superstitious natures; some students began outright taking bets on guessing just how many thousands of vampires Thaddeus had personally dispatched.

Their idle talk did not subside even as Thaddeus himself strode into the room, a pair of Slayers trailing behind him, both men wheeling in a large apparatus covered by an ornate purple drape. Rolling the mysterious object to the right, the Slayers unloaded it from the dolly they had rolled it in on, the pneumatic components in their power armor granting them to lift the strange mass.

His eyes scoping the faces of the aspirants before him, Thaddeus cleared his throat with a forceful grunt, silencing the room with nary a word spoken. It wasn't a large room, after all, and didn't harbor many students, so he needn't put forth much effort to command the attention he wanted from his pupils. Besides, he was well aware of how intimidated he made the entirety of the student body feel, and decided it was best to use that intimidation to his advantage. Once the room was silent, he was able to initiate the lecture.

"Today," he began, "We will be studying the poltergeist." Looking around the room, he saw a hand in the front row shoot up immediately, its owner a young man Thaddeus recognized and knew all too well; Michelangelo Ketch. He was a snobby, narcissistic piece of work to be certain, but intelligent. What he lacked in humility and grace, he backed with brains and wit. Thankfully enough, though, he'd gotten reports time and again that Michelangelo didn't know nearly as much as what the boy thought he did, having been shut down by at least three of his professors after attempting to hijack their respective lectures with his own well-organized, albeit flawed, studies.

But this time, Michelangelo thought he stood a chance; a chance at undermining the Thaddeus Cael Ardelean. Anyone as young and proud as Michelangelo would relish at the prospect of such a feat. Thaddeus, in turn, decided to humor the boy and let him have his fun. "Yes, Michelangelo. You have something to say?" A smile crept across the young Hunter-aspirant's face as he stood. Straightening the tie he wore around his neck, he spoke, "But, sir, if I may be so bold, we've already covered poltergeists. Two years ago, in fact, and I still have the entirety of The Anatomy of the Apparition, Vol. III memorized." He continued to stand, that coy smirk playing across his visage as if in triumph.

Thaddeus returned his own smile, stepping aside and outstretching his left arm as he did so. "Then by all means, child, teach us what we don't know. You can start with this," he concluded, gesturing towards the still-shrouded apparatus the Slayers had carried in. Michelangelo beamed mightily, his heart leaping in joy. He'd finally achieved his objective; to upstage a professor and take charge of the class.

Stepping up to where Thaddeus had been standing, Michelangelo addressed his peers. "Well, for starters, I suppose we should know what's under the curtain..." With that, he removed the purple cloth, only to reel back in fear and fall on his ass. Behind the curtain was a cylindrical apparatus, a top and base made of metal, with an airtight seal in the center of the upper portion. The middle was entirely plexiglass, covered in runes that served to keep in check the entity within.

Inside of the holding chamber was a malicious spirit, visible only because of the runes that entrapped it. It was a specter unlike any of those these students had even read about, simply because this one wasn't of mortal origin. This particular spirit was actually demonic in essence, having crossed the border into the material realm. Presently, it sought to rend Michelangelo's flesh from his very bones, smashing painfully against its cell.

"This, ladies and gentlemen, is a vengeful spirit. Their process of origin is largely unknown to us, but we have many theories. This particular spirit was caught trespassing in our plane, having found its way from what we can only describe as hell." He let that sink in, watching as Michelangelo scurried back to his chair, slinking down low and cowering.

"Unlike your typical spirit, we've devised that these demonic entities are composed of an otherworldly energy, dubbed ectoplama, as opposed to being comprised of the energy and elements found within us via the Big Bang. What's more, ectoplasma does not register on an electromagnetic field measurement apparatus, making the task of tracking them rather difficult as they do not emit white noise radiation as their 'cousins' do..."

Looking around the room, he saw many eager faces, Michelangelo's cowering tremble notwithstanding. 'It's going to be a good year,' Thaddeus thought.

3 Characters Present

Character Portrait: The Slayers Character Portrait: Isaac Irons Character Portrait: Garreth Jorgan
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The team sauntered in, their morale sorely depleted after witnessing the death of a comrade in such a gruesome manner. They returned to base empty-handed and one man down; Isaac was not looking forward to filling out the report for this incident. In the barracks, the Slayers unloaded their gear, storing their heavy suits of armor beside their mattresses. Isaac hung around, standing there in case any of his team had concerns or comments about the night. However, the general mood was rather dampened, and no one seemed to want to talk. He knew he had failed them, had failed the Society. With heavy heart, he made himself scarce, retiring to his own dorm room.

Walking through the main hall, he witnessed Garreth Jorgon, leading a team of Slayers, heading for the main entrance. "Heard you botched your hunt tonight, Irons. Shame, that." Jorgan was an unforgiving bastard, smug when the timing was right. He could always be seen walking around with his chest protruding, always acting as if though he had something to prove. "Let's just hope that bad luck doesn't rub off on me, hm?" he concluded.

He and his team laughed, at Isaac's expense no doubt, as they walked off. Garreth was leading his men to a raid; they had been called out to dispatch some wights that had found their way to the surface from the catacombs, the work of some demented necromancer, apparently. Isaac said nothing in retort, but merely let Jorgan's words burn, almost as much as his own failure did.

Deciding it best to turn in for the night, Isaac found solace in the prospect of sleep. His report would have to wait until morning. He felt exhausted for now, and couldn't be bothered to indulge himself further in his own shame.

2 Characters Present

Character Portrait: Thaddeus Cael Ardelean Character Portrait: Nox Mellencamp
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Weathered hands slammed down on a hard, oaken desk, producing a rather noisy thud as the two surfaces collided, causing the items atop the structure to rattle. Nox winced in a mixture of fear and embarrassment as Thaddeus began his tirade. "Damn it all to high heaven!" he began, pacing back and forth behind his desk. Nox stood opposite, head down and eyes glued to the carpeted floor beneath his feet.

"I thought we were passed all of this, Nox! The regression, the uncontrollable urges, the senselessness. I thought we had worked through it!" Nox tried to make himself shrink, wanting, willing to give anything to be invisible. Words failed him, and wouldn't do him any good if he could muster the courage necessary to utilize them. He understood, even in his frayed consciousness, that he was seriously in trouble.

Thaddeus had to take a deep, concentrated breath and focus. He needed a level head when it came to dealing with Nox. He was well-aware of the fact that he was quite possibly the only thing Nox feared more than vampiric cults and silly string. However, he also couldn't ignore how serious an offense this was. Exhaling slowly, Thaddeus was able to regain his composure.

"Your actions may very well have put a stain on our reputation, Nox. Hey, look at me!" Nox elevated his gaze to meet Thaddeus' amber-colored eyes. They were hauntingly brilliant, those eyes. They made Nox shiver as he peered into their depths. "I'm sorry Nox, but until we can make some serious progress with your condition, I have to ground you. You understand what kind of trouble you could have put us in, don't you?"

Nox merely nodded slowly, his voice still failing to work. Thaddeus merely sighed. "Okay then. Return to your quarters. I'll have Guildenstern pay you a visit. And try not to bite him this time, please."

Nox turned and exited the room somberly. As soon as he left, Thaddeus sat down in his chair, hands clasped to his face. He feared for Nox, both physically and mentally. He was clearly unstable, but was a useful asset to the Society when kept in check. However, his experiences with regression have become the subject of troubling talk.

What terrified him most was the prospect of having to put Nox down, permanently.

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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?"

3 Characters Present

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?"

4 Characters Present

Character Portrait: Thaddeus Cael Ardelean Character Portrait: The Slayers 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?"

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Character Portrait: Noella Lemieux
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It had been a long and terrible walk for Noella. She avoided going to town most times, and less so during the day when there were people around, but today was an exception.

With the hood to a long jacket low over her head, Noella braved the streets, the sky dark and overcast, the first drops of rain falling. It was going to be an absolutely miserable experience walking back home. There would be puddles everywhere.

She came to the steps of the university, looking up at the intimidating building with appraisal. At least they had good taste, even if the building was aging. With brave steps, Noella advanced, pulling the hood over her head just a bit more, looking around with a bit of suspicion.

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Character Portrait: The Slayers Character Portrait: Noella Lemieux
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Noella would find herself met with a pair of Krampus assault rifles trained on her person, the two Slayers guarding the front gate keeping their aim steady as she sauntered towards the entrance to the University. They walked, slowly, forward, to meet her as she made her way up to the giant iron archway.

"Stop walking," one of them demanded, "State your business here."

Their frames were quite massive under the protection of the Frankenstein Mk. III power armor, giving an intimidating appearance, as well as magnificent protection from various physical and magical attacks, should this woman try either of those assaults. Guns at the ready, the duo of Slayers awaited her reply, not reluctant to open fire if necessary.

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"Oh! Oh, my goodness!" Noella's hands flew to her mouth as the two Slayers pointed their guns at her. She paled considerably, looking as though she were about to faint. "I'm here to hire a slayer... to investigate some strange things going around my house. I couldn't call in advance," she stated, voice warbling as she spoke. "I-I'm not armed."

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The Slayers eased off, lowering their weapons the slightest of degrees. "You a cop?" one of them questioned. Beside him, his partner was contacting the operator inside of the University.

"Mandragora, this is Slayer Post 1. We've got an unidentified female at the front gate requesting a Hunter for a private investigation. How copy?" A few moments of silence pervaded over the trio as the Slayer listened in to the operator's reply. He focused his attention on the meek woman, his metallic, piercing gaze meeting her own mousy one.

"I'm gonna need a name from you, lady," he said with finality.

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"Um... ah... Noella," she said at last. "Noella Lemieux." She had been so startled at the sight of the guards that she'd forgotten all about introducing herself. She had to wonder why security was this tight.

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The Slayer relayed the name back to the operator, keeping his voice low and turning slightly away from the other two standing nearby, as to focus on the radio more easily. His partner began to question Noella about her predicament in the meantime.

"What exactly is going on in your house?" he asked.

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"I... how can I say this?" She twiddled her thumbs and dug her nails into her palms. "I think... my house is haunted. I can't exactly go to the police about this and, Elueu forbid, going to the church. My house would be burned." Especially being that she wasn't just a witch, but something else entirely. She couldn't even ask her dear uncle for help.

"Can you help me at all?"

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Updating the situation, the Slayers were able to requisition Noella clearance into the University. The large iron gates crept open, their metal embrace widening slowly, causing an unpleasant creaking noise. "Continue up the path and head into the University. Wait in the lobby for someone to greet you," the first Slayer said plainly. "Just know, however, that you're being watched. Tread carefully here."

With that, they resumed their posts aside the now-open gate, keeping their eyes on both Noella and about the area around them, remaining ever-ready to open fire at the slightest hint of trouble.

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"I'm not sure if it's possible to tread any more carefully than I already am," she told the Slayers, voice trembling in fear as she walked past them into the university.

She kept her head down and her hands clasped to her chest as she made her way to the lobby, the ends of her dress floating about her ankles. How frightening this place was! Did they really need to be this secured at all times? Noella conjured wild and exaggerated scenes in her mind of the place getting overrun with rabid vampires foaming at the mouth in never ending hordes.

That didn't happen, though, right?

Right?

The woman tried to reassure herself as she walked into the lobby, keeping her face aimed down on the floor, away from anything reflective.

5 Characters Present

Character Portrait: Vincent Jean Dixon-Ardelean Character Portrait: Thaddeus Cael Ardelean Character Portrait: The Slayers Character Portrait: Noella Lemieux Character Portrait: Isaac Irons
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Issac's eyes glanced over the X-ray posted to the board behind Thaddeus' desk. It showed the inside of a werewolf's chest, after having suffered a gunshot wound with a silver-laced bullet. The strain this particular werewolf belonged to had an allergic reaction to silver, and incurred quite a nasty infection as a result of the poisoning, and it had spread quite far. That werewolf was currently being held in the infirmary, in an isolation chamber.

However, that wasn't on Isaac's mind. He was still dwelling quite hard on the loss of his team member; the agonizing shrieks of a dying man that had in moments become trapped in a personal oven thanks to the efforts of a magic-induced firebomb. His eyes were distant, and Thaddeus saw clearly into them.

"Something you wish to talk about, Isaac?" he asked gently. Isaac had become somewhat of a second son to him, showing great promise as a member of the Society. He was genuinely concerned with the young man's ability to cope with the grievous situation he had endured. However, Isaac merely shook his head at the question, remaining relatively silent, save his inconsistent breathing. Thaddeus sat forward, prompting Isaac's attention to his amber eyes.

"I know what it's like, Isaac. It's never easy, and you never forget. I still remember the times I failed my men; still feel like a failure at times for not being able to keep them alive..." he trailed off, either recollecting his memories of such events or allowing the fact that he too had once stumbled and fallen in his life to sink in. "But it won't do to break your own heart over it every waking day, my boy. You don't have to forget, and you don't have to get over it. It will always be at least somewhat painful. But you can't let it consume you."

His comm. pinged in that moment, and he turned to answer it quickly. "Yes?" he practically demanded. "Sir, the woman from the gate is waiting in the lobby. Do we have any Hunters free to go?" Thaddeus looked up, seeing Isaac begin to rise from his chair. He held a hand up, motioning for the young man to sit back down.

"Vincent isn't currently tied up. I'll send him out."
"Understood."

Terminating the call, Thaddeus returned his attention to Isaac. "If you need to talk to me about it, Isaac, my door is always open. You don't have to work through this by yourself." A moment of seemingly perpetual silence lingered between them, Isaac keeping his gaze to the floor. Then, he released a heavy exhale, his head raising to meet Thaddeus' gaze. With a slow intake of breath, he proceed to pour his heart out...

---


He sauntered through the University, a black longcoat trailing behind him. He wore a longsword on his back, and carried no guns at all. Stopping in the lobby, he scanned over the room with his large, brown eyes. He was a tall young man, his skin a perfect ebony tone. Spotting a nervous-looking woman across the room, who he assumed to be the client, he began to walk towards her.

"Noella Lemieux?" he began, "My name is Vincent Dixon-Ardelean, Hunter, at your service. I understand you have a haunting problem."

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The redheaded woman nodded to Vincent, eyeing him over once. As she pulled a strand of hair behind her ear, she held a hand out to him. "Problem. Yes, well, it's certainly a big one. I'm not sure if it's something as simple as a ghost. I, um..." Her eyes went up to his face, then fell again. Her lips trembled as she reached for her sleeve, pulling it back. Right there. Bloody marks gouged deeply into her skin, as though someone had used a razor. They spelled something...

Hello

"I don't know that ghosts do this," she whimpered, tears spilling out of her eyes. "And I didn't do this myself."

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Vincent tried not to look perturbed by the marking on Noella's arm, but internally he was completely shocked. He'd never seen anything quite like that. However, he had a part to play, and needed to remain level-headed for the sake of this investigation, as well as for Noella's own nerves.

"Could be a vengeful spirit, or something similar. I'll need to inspect your home, though, before I can know anything," he said.

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Rolling her sleeve back down, Noella quietly nodded, then wiped her eyes. "I... apologize. It's been frightening. It's really not something I have to deal with. I've encountered ghosts before, but all they've ever done was move things around the house and whisper." She crossed her arms delicately and looked to the floor again.

"I'll need to know how much money it is to hire you. A-and I don't know if we need to make a separate meeting... or..."

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Character Portrait: Vincent Jean Dixon-Ardelean Character Portrait: Noella Lemieux
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Vincent looked over her. She was terrified, as she should be. This city, it was run amok by the things that go bump in the night, often taking time to terrorize or otherwise be a menace to the population that inhabited it. That was why the Society did what it did; these days at least. It wasn't always like how it was now. However, in Vincent's youth, he lacked the tact and refinement of his father, and was more straight to the point about what would need to be done.

"Standard rate for something like this is seven hundred, plus expenses. If you've got that, we can leave straight away."

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"D... do you take credit card?" asked Noella hesitantly. She reached for a pocket within her dress, taking out a small leather wallet. This was a hit to her expenses, but it was worth it. After all, she could always ask her dear uncle for a bit of money if she really needed it.

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Character Portrait: Vincent Jean Dixon-Ardelean Character Portrait: Noella Lemieux Character Portrait: Vayne Salazar
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Vincent looked her over, her taking the plastic card in hand and offering to pay for his services. "That will be fine, so long as your company is willing to cover the expenses. Come, show me where you live."

With that, he headed for the entrance, leaving onto the ground and out into the city to wherever it was Noella resided.

---


Outside the perimeter of the grounds, he wandered, his sharp, vampiric eyes keeping a close watch on the young man as he left the building with a nervous-looking lady in tow. He was familiar with this particular Hunter; he was called the son of the headmaster, an adopted bastard left to die on Lutetia's streets, and likely would have if Thaddeus had not come along.

He knew the scent of Vincent's blood; it smelled of anger and confusion. Vayne would have to exploit that, someday.

Someday...

The World Spirit of Eterna vanishes into nothingness, but you get the feeling they are heading somewhere else.
Giovanni Bistreo vanishes into nothingness, but you get the feeling they are heading somewhere else.