Setting

In fact, getting a commercial beer here is quite the chore, though if you ask for the most sophisticated brew you could think of they might carry it. On tap, they only have one beer. It happens to be an archaic import from some southern mountain range called Drakkus , very dark and very hoppy. In contrast, the most popular wine is Blud, a red wine infused with biorganics procured specifically for Vampires. Another Terran Favorite is Gruul, hailing from Gruul Wineries from the far away continent of Therrier-Paix.
Tauvyr Tavern is also a popular place for liquor enthusiasts. The establishment offers a delectable selection of tapas and finger foods. This is the hub of adult life in Verinotte Hollow, and holds Karaoke every full moon.
Stones followed in not even giving the chair a look.
"Ish fine." He said bluntly. He moved to the sight. Taking in a strong nostril fill of something. Hm.
"That one." he pointed to a bottle behind the counter. A cup? "No. That one." The whole bottle? Okay... He uncorked it and began to drink it very greedily.
"Careful now, " the tone lost about some unclear sarcasm, "There are so very many faces of regret that deep in a bottle of wine."
Stones was at the bar. He drank half of the bottle and was surprised that the alcohol actually had some affect on him. THe huge man now turned to the stranger. He looked to her fancy hat. He nodded. "Good fashion." He told her at first. "We both know this is not wine."
Boyle handed the other a etching. An etching of a man done in charcoal. The likeness was very well done. Man in his forties, very long slant nose. Dark hair. Short cut. Very fierce looking eyes. "That is who we are looking for. And trust me he is dangerous anywhere we gather." He told the other Vampire.
"This shit gets powers. What does he do? Immediately what most shits start to do. Start to think he's a bloody god."
The visage was of a vampire in circles called Feastus. A Vampire that had started a sanguine cult installing him as their living deity. "But most of these shitheads don't try to bother the established covens... So we got the call."
Cigarette to her lips never seemed to draw down but alit with an ember where keen ears found outcries for succor, "Thus Feastus destroying things to which he is not entitled? How interesting a pyre is ordered by the powers that be. Good thing hunters aren't the only ones who know how to burn."
An empty gaze deep enough to drown hope in looked very pointedly at Boyle as she took the cigarette out. A grey cloud breathed out with a sickly-sweet scent of meat and charcoal unmistakable to those that know it. Hat down toward the empty tankard.
"You know bou' this?" Ulrich spoke up across the bar to the Ebbrabos. He recognized her from around. She was from over at the vineyards. Ulrich didn't like the look of her, but what was he to say? His brow lowered. Things were getting out of hand around Aslund. Terrorists in Wing City, cultist leaders gone off the deep end. He shook his head.
"A threat this large? Huh. Sounds like my business if yer lookin' round these parts," Ulrich then said to Boyle and gave a hard nod.
Boyle did more of the talking. Though Stones gave Ebbrabos a stoic look. Quietly studying the details of her face, her expression, the large man was more animal than vampire. Huge, feral, subdued but ready to pounce at a moment's notice. He tried to read her movements and motions. Trying to get an instinctive feel at what sort of person was joining their dangerous hunt.
"His name IS Feastus. His group of wannabes are called the Sanguine Feast. Typical bunch of psychotic mortals who think because they can murder to make their sad lives feel something that they are on our level." They were not. "We should expect heavy firepower, conventional firearms, automatics, shotguns. Nothing we can't handle."
"But..." Stones interjected.
"I was getting to that!" He snapped back. "BUT... Before Feastus left he had broke into the haven of a very respected and venerated scholar of our community. A scholar who had in their possession a LOT of powerful magic relics. We are not exactly sure what exactly... but we do know most of them date back to the 11th century."
Wait a second.
"The Sanguine Feast, eh? You said mortals. Feastus ain't one of 'em, but he's leading a band of murder-hobos, is that righ? An' now they got a bunch o' magical shit, eh?" Ulrich drummed his fingers on the table. This was not good, "An' you did say mortals?"
Wait a second.
"The Sanguine Feast, eh? You said mortals. Feastus ain't one of 'em, but he's leading a band of murder-hobos, is that righ? An' now they got a bunch o' magical shit, eh?" Ulrich drummed his fingers on the table. This was not good, "An' you did say mortals?"
"Careful looking into the abyss, Stones. We Can See You TooOOoo." Said her partly echoed voice in a off-pitch singsong.
She poured three shots of clear liquid though something for a burning clarity of mind than the alcoholic muddying, "Have something nice from my own supply! It won't do to have some tyrant causing problems in my backyard."
In a switch to rest her chin on the palm holding her cigarette, she answered Ulrich after some thought, "Hm. No, I haven't bought any supplies from that kind of vain creature. Nor made any promises to the vain. Though vain foresight does tend to strike an excellent bargain I'd be happy with."
The words were very particular. Vain things like something calling itself a god never saw the paths past their own meat. The cigarette in her mouth she took a long drag with the screechy whine that issues from it.
Causing trouble brought problems and she was feeling charitable, "I'll show him a good time when you're done with him. Just send him my way. Though I'm quite sure the pursuit of power has gained him a number of friends buying new presents for him. They so often surround themselves with those content to only serve, hmm?"
There were a number of cultists in the area who would not be lucky enough that they should go to hell if they died. Though they certainly might burn for not paying what's due.
Boyle liked the prospect of two allies in their new hunt. Sort of answering the questions to his best abilities. "All mortals besides Feastus. I think they are deluded into thinking they someday he will turn them into vampires. But the shit can never share with anyone else." He warranted. "The most loyal of his followers have been conditioned heavily to feel no pain and to have their minds dulled to fanaticism. He has the gift of Voice and [/b]Gaze[/b] where he can entrance and hypnotize and dominate the will of others. Powerful abilities too... Our initial plan was ripping out his tongue from his mouth at the start of the fight to ensure that wouldn't be too big a problem but even then that would require sneaking up on him."
This Feastus concerned Ulrich, more so that the cultists had found industry around the Cursed Wood. The fact that mortals were wrapped up in it was worse news. Mortals weren't safe in the Cursed Wood without protection of someone. Feastus didn't seem like protection. In fact, between Feastus and the Sabbat, it was a wonder the WCPD even let Ulrich through the doors! It was a wonder there weren't flame-lit pitchfork parties attempting to burn this place to the ground.