The Forsaken (Open)

[Polyphony Aetolus]

Ravenblack City. A cesspit of filth and sin, a congregation of all that is wrong with the world. It is here that con artists, thieves, murderers, exiles, and things that go bump in the night come to hide. With every step taken, a life ebbs away, a soul fades deeper into the dark. All those who commit to a life of tragedy and darkness find their way here.

And it is here that one man seeks his redemption.

Lighting arcs the sky, illuminating every dark corner, turning night into day for the briefest of moments. Rain fell from the heavens, a dark message from the gods themselves.

A bloodsoaked figure marches through the downpour, as if praying that the rain could cleanse his soul of the deeds he has commited. How ironic, that a man should seek to be redeemed by walking with those who kill to live. Perhaps his redemption laid in that he was not among those, but something else. Something more... primal.

For he, too, was consumed with the bloodlust that forsaked the denizens of this dark dimension. Yet, he had been given no choice in this curse. Indeed, this man was born with it. He had fought time and time again to control it, this twisted gift of the gods. But no solution gave him solace for long. Was death, then, the only way to purify the world of one more monster? If it was, he was not strong enough to take the life that he wished would end. Yes, he was a coward of the soul.

A growl ripped from his throat, morphing soon into a howl of agony. He cursed the moon, the gods. Could they not find him his redemption, or did they simply not care?

It mattered not this night. He knew no amount of rituals or prayer would save him.

He realized, then, that not all of the blood that covered him was that of his victims. A silver bullet had pierced his torso, though thankfully it had torn straight through his thick hide. Perhaps he could die. He knew this wound would not heal soon, that the hunters he had chased through the wilderness were well enough trained that their mark was true, and that they had left him weak. Vulnerable.

Hide.

What else was he to do? It would not be long before one of the immortal kindred would catch the scent of his blood and chase after it. In his weakened state, he would not be able to fight them off for long.

A tavern caught his eye, the Thief of Hearts, so said the sign. It would do well enough for now. His feet seemed to drag as he made his way to the door, blood flowing slowly from his wound with each step he took. His entrance was not unnoticed.

Many of those within the tavern did double takes, and some were bold enough to stare. True, most of the blood had been washed off from the rain, but he could not hide the growing stain that pierced his black, button-up shirt.

He seemed to stumble to the bar, his head spinning when he finally took a seat. The scent of vampyric blood stenched the air, making him nauseous. How he hated their kind, these monsters who fed on innocent lives out of fear of their own death. Yet, he was no better. He knew this. He knew, though it made him even sicker to admit it, that a werewolf was just as much of a monster.

He wondered, how long could he sit here? He was no vampire, he had no "regen" abilities, as they called it these days. Though the wound would stop bleeding soon enough, he could not deny that he would be weak in the days to follow.

He would have loved to seek refuge in the wild, to allow his wounds to heal through ritual to the gods. Unfortunately, this weather would allow him to do no such thing. Did the tavern here have a room he could rent, perhaps?

Not that it mattered, regardless of the answer. He carried no money, nothing of any real value. When he had sought out this city, he knew that the wordly possessions he once carried would mean nothing. He had believed that by abandoning his old life, by shedding himself of that tortured past, he could start anew.

The bartender came to him then, his expression blank as he asked if he could help. It seemed that Polyphony was not the first to enter the tavern drenched in blood and tears. "Your strongest whiskey," he replied, voice raspy. The barkeep nodded as he reached under the counter, pulling out an aging bottle of the drink. He asked for no money, no coin. Nor did he offer a glass. He seemed content to let the entire bottle sit in front of the werewolf.

And he was all too content to take a long, most likely undeserved, swig.

[Matheson Regale]

He swiped his thumb along the phone’s edge, causing the screen to be pushed sideways and reveal the dainty keyboard he would begin manoeuvring singlehandedly. Glancing up from the screen briefly as a car pulled up before him, his fingers continued to tap the various keys expertly. When the person to step out of the car did not meet his expectation however, he lowered his eyes to the screen once more without giving the other a second look. Reaching for the touch screen with his opposite hand, he pressed send before snapping the phone shut and slipping it into his pocket. There was little point in continuing to wait out here if his date did not show up, for every minute wasted here meant more missed opportunities elsewhere; and he could not miss any opportunities, not tonight. He had not fed in many days, for his attention has been completely focused upon the quest at hand, which had required filling up some smarmy wineskin bag with the blood of others. He had no idea how some of these quests were meant to work, but he planned on testing his newest skill this evening.

The human was late, or else would not be coming at all. Regardless of her disposition, he decided against waiting any further. He could tolerate company if it served a purpose, but when it came to food he had been far too doting on his victims...

Glancing down the road one more time, the blue-eyed male noted the presence of a tavern a block down the street. Well, that was the best place to start, at least there was a guaranteed meal in these places. Reaching for his phone in his jean’s front pocket, he opened and snapped it shut once more in order to see the time displayed on the screen. Yes, there was no point waiting any longer, for the sun would creep over the horizon within a few hours and he still had a few errands to complete before then. First, he would need to find a victim.

Making his way across the street towards the Thief of Hearts, a pub he had been to at least once before, he tucked the phone back into his pocket. It was easy to forget where one had been, for the nights seemingly blended into one long, long day and to keep track was of no consequence. Apart from the quests, there was rarely any variation to his kind’s routine; it was easy to forget places and faces. Sometimes he envied the other immortals, like those who on full moons would be forced into a change. Hey, he wouldn’t mind the occasional transformation; it would be a proverbial breath of fresh air from stalking shadows each night.

Finally out of the rain, he shoved the heavy door open with little care.

The pub’s atmosphere did not differ much from the one in every other, stuffy, unclean, and filled with older men. It was relatively amusing to see how the population was shifting in response to predators, the older and ugly left to die in alleyways or never approached. Stepping aside as a drunkard tumbled to the ground before him, he decided to settle himself along the empty bar counter. Business sure was slow tonight, it would surely not make his task any easier. Oh well, there was little point in finding pessimistic aspects of everything; there was always tomorrow, and the day after...

“How come you are here, dog?” he addressed a man slouched a few stools over after ordering himself a beer on tap. Glancing over his shoulder at the meagre mortal populace behind them, he bypassed his original seat and made his way to plop down besides the other.

[Azaiel Ashenvale]

A scent of a lycan greeted her nose as she continued to space out in the tavern. She looked at her watch with her glowing emerald eyes and then looked around. Making a tsk sound with her tounge she stood and walked over to the bar and ordered another glass of Gin. "You know Gin is going to make you as mad as a loon one day right, Mis Ashenvale?" but he continued to pour the glass. "I'll take my chance, but thank you for the show of concern." She raised her glass at him before taking a sip and turned to head back to her seat.

This was part of the city she had never realized exsisted. What wonderous surprises would she find here, she thought to herself. Her hand went up to her neck and began to play with the jade necklace. She smiled sadly and countinued on to her seat.

She was stopped with by a hand that grabbed her arm and she looked down, it was a drunk. The smell of alchohol was strong and disgusted Az to the fullest. All she wanted to do to him was tear his arm off and beat him with it untill he was unable to draw breath again. She blinked and looked down at the man, but wrentched her arm out of his hand, fixed her business jacket and wiped off her sleeve and smiled at him.

She continued on to her seat without an interuptions as she continued to watch the room.

[Polyphony Aetolus]

Vampires.

He hated that smell. They reeked of death, of murder, and of rotting. Or maybe he just told himself they did. Either way, their kind disgusted him. The thought of slaughtering innocents for food, to feed oneselves out of fear of dying, sickened him.

It was a long few minutes before he responded to the immortal beside him. Polyphony was not trying to ignore him, nor trying to show any dislike, but it was just habit. Being born a Theurge meant his mind was almost always elsewhere. He'd been told more than once that he had trouble focusing on the physical realm, no doubt a side effect of dealing with spirits.

Yes, Polyphony was what some would call a mystic, or a shaman. He had been the one his pack sought out for advice, guidance, and all matters concerning the dead. Over the years, he had honed many abilities, being granted gift after gift from the spirits he dealt with. Those abilities came at the cost of his mind wandering quite often, regardless of the situation.

"Because this is where my feet brought me," he muttered softly in his response. Not once did he gaze directly at the undead soul that had taken a seat next to him. No, his foggy gaze was on his drink, contemplating how much longer he would have to wander this forsaken city before he found what he was looking for.

Of course, that was assuming he could figure out what he was looking for.

Another vampire crossed his path soon after, a female this time. He barely noticed her, and only did so because of that stench. Sometimes, having the nostril capabilities of ten dogs was unpleasant. He wished they would all just go away, and leave him in peace. The man wasn't in the mood for company tonight, but knowing the arrogance of their kind, he knew he might have to suffer a bit longer.

[Azaiel Ashenvale]

She could feel the anger in the air and saw that it came from the lycan that was talking to someone else. She overheard his coversation with the other vampire and bit her lip. Why was he angry? Why did it matter to her? She had never taken a life of an innocent before. All she did take was blood bags and serums that allowed her to not have to feed from humans.

Speaking of humans, one came her way and asked to sit next to her. She smiled and nodded pointing to an empty seat next to her and turned her attention toward him. He was a good looking lad, very young, but very energetic. "What's your name, hun?" She asked softly. His name was Jason and he had been visiting Ravenblack for a while, he was in a small band that played jazz. Az nodded and smiled as she took a sip of her drink. "I'm sorry would like something to drink? I'd be on me?" He asked for a glass of jack and coke, more jack than coke. Az came back to the bar and ordered a jack and coke. "I don't know what your distaste is for vampires, but some of us aren't as arrogant and blood thristy as you think us to be, some of us just want to get along with the humans....I'm Azaiel" She entered these words into the lycan's head, if he got it then she said what she wanted to say. But if not oh well. She took the glass and walked back to her companion and smiled at him as she gave him his glass. "So what do you do, miss..." Jason had left a long enough pause for her to fill in the blank.

"Azaiel, but you can call me Az. And I play the violin, as a hobby."

[Matheson Regale]

Matheson chuckled as the lycanthrope replied, and turned his gaze away from the man’s face towards the rest of his physical presence. Surely he was aware that his appearance catered a certain amount of eccentricity, which always drew attention, especially when business was slow and there was no other entertainment. Slipping a bill along the countertop to the barman as the beer was set before him, the blue-eyed vampire cocked his head sideways towards the disagreeable man besides him: “I’m buying for Droopy here, too. Keep it coming...”

Yes, he may have been impertinent in being so forward, but Matheson was the sort who carried himself with his head held so high his eyes were almost always staring at the sky. There were many reasons why he had become this cocky, the primary one being that at twenty-eight years of age (and immortalized at this glorious age) he had created and sold off his first company for £9.8 million. And now here he was, prowling through Ravenblack City in search of new business opportunities. To be honest, he had already drawn up the outline of a business plan that would cater to his newest kinfolk, but it was still a work in progress. Perfection could never be rushed.

“So, Droopy,” he started, raising his mug to the other, “Cheers!”

[Polyphony Aetolus]

"I said nothing about your kind," the man whispered, turning his gaze to the female. He didn't have the powers of telepathy, so he could not respond to her as she spoke to his mind. Telepathy was a fruitless thing for him - he had too many thoughts in his head as it was. "So why not stop presuming you know what I'm thinking, and go back to your drinks?"

As he said this, he noticed the male in his periphial vision eyeing him. Or more specifically, his wound. He said nothing on the matter though, offered no words of explanation. The man hadn't asked, even though his curiousity was evident, and Polyphony didn't care to swap stories.

His mind was focused again, drifting back into the physical realm. A sigh was issued from his lips at the realization that he would actually have to deal with these bloodsuckers. "Droopy," he said, drawing the word out of his lips slowly. "Cute." He snorted the word, sarcasm oozing out of his voice. "My name is Polyphony," he offered, nodding his head as he finally turned the eye the vampire.

Polyphony couldn't deny that the man was attractive, even if he was dead. He had been born in a time where homosexuality was a natural thing, not even thought about. Greece may have crumbled eons ago, but their ideals still stuck with the man. Back in his day, a man could have a wife and a male lover. Provided they could afford it. He was not gay, but nor was he straight. He simply admired beauty, regardless of the form in which it presented itself.

This vampire's attractiveness was not simply in his physical looks, however. It was the confidence in which he spoke, the way he carried himself. But Polyphony pushed the thoughts away as quickly as they had come, reminding himself that this was not a man next to him, but a vessel of flesh which lacked a soul. Still, he didn't deny the vampire's offer to drink. "Cheers," he responded, raising his bottle to knock it against the other's glass.

[Matheson Regale]

“Cute indeed”

My name is Polyphony. What kind of name was that? Matheson cast a negligible side-glance in the man’s direction as he took a hearty swig of his ale, pondering the origin of such a name. Poly meant many, and phony... well, there was the word phony, but then it was also used in words like symphony, and cacophony, and phonetic. Setting the mug back down before him, the blue-eyed leech cleared his throat before reaching his right hand across his chest to shake the other’s (if he so obliged): “Matheson, though X is shorter...”

If there was one true love to be had, it would not be money. In itself money was grand, especially for the likes of Matheson who enjoyed spending it, but it was not worth more than its buying power. Knowledge on the other hand, now that was the true root of all power! The more one understood, the better life could get. Whereas knowledge was desirable however, ideas that lingered upon the tip of one’s tongue were not. There was nothing more unnerving than to forget something one once knew. It bothered Matheson that the word sounded so bloody familiar and that he could not put his finger on it. Furrowing his brow, he turned to look at the man, moving his entire body to face him this time.

Returning his right hand to cradle the glass mug, he slouched slightly and took on the demeanour of a curious child: “Why does your name sound so familiar? What does it mean?”

[CG Dragonfly]

Walking along the street, she twirls her umbrella a little to let the water rivulets spiral down around her to the sidewalk. “Always interesting…” she murmurs to herself, the scent of blood catching her attention. She blinks her golden lashes together a few times in confusion as her gaze moves to the area around her, a purr escaping her throat at the word passing through her thoughts, ‘Lycanthrope’. Drawing her slender form up into her full height of five foot seven inches tall, she nods a slight and hurries along the sidewalk in search of this one.

---

A few minutes later, she finds herself outside a pub of some sort and reaches out her gloved hand for the doorknob. Opening the door, she almost recoils at the scent of the humans inhabiting the place as she takes a peek inside the dimly lit area toward the back of the room. Closing up her umbrella and stepping inside fully, she takes a few steps toward the bar before undoing the buttons of her coat. Reaching the counter after succeeding in closing the short distance to a pair of unoccupied barstools, she lays her coat down on one along with her bag. She rests her umbrella against the bar itself and brings her thin fingers up to remove the silver pins from her hair.

Letting her straightened hair cascade down her back in a golden wave to her waist, she turns to place the pins away in her bag and turns back to the bar. Celeste raises her fingers along with her soft voice to call the bartender over, then murmurs, “Rum please”. She eases herself into a comfortable position, smoothing a small portion of her black satin dress into place over her thighs before she turns her attention to the man down the bar with the stain on the back of his shirt.

Keeping her posture proper, she hums a quiet tune to herself as she waits for her drink and nods in thanks when the tender brings it to her. She raises the glass first to the air, then brings it down to her full lips to sip the rum, noticing the flavor comprised more of water than the liquor. ‘Stretching the bottles,’ she whispers in her own mind while letting her thoughts flit from one to another.

Celeste listens to the conversation between the two men, her interest focusing on the lycan briefly. Bringing her fingertips up to idly play with the pendant hanging from her silver necklace, she hums a soft melody and traces the small rays of the sun moving inward to the spiral. A murmur slips from her lips unbidden, a loss of her control on her tongue, “It never lies to you, though you have kept part of yourself hidden from it for a long time”.

She returns her attention to the bartender and the room, blinking a few times to clear the milky hue out of her normally dark green orbs. Chancing a look to some of the other patrons in the room, she wonders if any noticed the chill circulating in the air near her before she reaches for her bag to withdraw some money for the tender.

[Azaiel Ashenvale]

Az smiled at thelycans words and chuckled softly. It servered her right for trying to make a new friend in her way. She nodded and whispered back "I don't pretend to know what your thing, only assuming, and mother always said assumtions were bad. I apaologize and hope you get better." She nodded again and walked back to that man who was waiting for her. "Sorry for the wait. Here's your jack and coke."

She was deep in conversation with the boy when she noticed air from outside being drawn in and looked up. Another had walked into the building, female his time. With an umbrella, she hadn't notices that it was raining outside and smiled. "Should have brought mine." she said to herself as she watched the female order a drink for herself, say something to the other two men and then keep to hersekf again.

She raised the glass to her lips and took a healthy sip of her Gin and set it down on the table in front of her and continued talking to boy next to him, but kept an eye on the young female.

[Polyphony Aetolus]

Why was it that bloodsuckers seemed to swarm around him, wherever he went in this god forsaken place? One after another of the wretched creatures piled into the tavern, perhaps drawn subconsciencely to the smell of the blood that seeped from him. Did vampires even feed off werewolves? He'd never seen it happen, so he couldn't be sure... but it was best to not take chances.

"It's Greek," he mumbled after another swig from the bottle. "Meaning many sounds." The boy's curiousity was impressive, at least. Not many had a thirst for knowledge these days. Perhaps not all vampires were- No. He cut that thought off instantly. It was their kind who had put him on the path to become what he was, and it was they who fed on innocent lives. Before he could stop it, a memory came unbidden to his mind.

Fires raged across the camp. Tents and caravans burned, filling the air around him with smoke. He could only stand there, tears slipping down his cheeks, as his world burned in front of him.

Women ran with children in their arms, but it was a futile effort. The bloodsuckers swarmed the camp, cutting down any who tried to flee. Those who had fought were long dead, the blood they gave to defend their loved ones now meant nothing.

He stood in the middle of it all, desperately trying to drown out the screaming. But not once did the man close his eyes. He'd brought them... Unwillingly, but it was the only reason he wasn't being taken to slaughter like his family.

Another long swig, and his vision blurred. He shook his head, running a hand through his hair in an attempt to clear his mind. "Matheson," he whispered, trying to focus on the word and the vampire it belonged to. "How old are you?"

[Matheson Regale]

“14” he joked, quite accustomed to being called immature, though his boyish features and short stature were often the cause for such assumptions. Reaching for the glass, he took a sip of it and used the back of his thumb to wipe the foam off his upper lip before setting the glass back down and answering honestly this time, “28 meant to go onto 29, but a dark alleyway at night can change things. Yourself?”

Clearly Polyphony was further along in years, but that was not unappealing. Age represented insight and perception, traits Matheson had learned to cultivated quite early for his age, and found lacking in many of his compatriots. Glancing over his shoulder to where a female had seated herself down, his blue eyes glazed over slightly as he second-sighted her. Powerful, well-connected, and surely rich, perfect candidate upon which to impose himself on; for the sake of his business.

But Matheson was not rude, inattentive and disorderly in his socialization perhaps, but not blatantly rude. He was curious about this chap before him, and so he was quick to return his attention towards the male. Bringing his beer to his lips, he reached for the other’s bottle with a lack of inhibition reserved to children. All he wanted was to see the label, he was not a man, or at least had not been a man, who could hold his liquor. However he was a vampire, and though his lack of concern for personal space may have been viewed wrongly, his life depended on overstepping such boundaries.

Shrugging as he caught sight of the maker’s name, he returned his hand to his beer, changing the glass of hand as his fingers drummed quietly against the flat surface. It was evident that he was a product of his generation, overly social, worldly, and absolutely overloaded with energy. A proud victim of ADHD, Matheson bit down on his lower lip as he briefly glanced at the room behind Polyphony’s slouched form.

[CG Dragonfly]

She reaches for her bag and withdraws a few coins for the tender, humming quietly as she places them on the bar. Rising up after a second or two, Celeste slips on her coat before securing her bag with the strap across her body. Picking up her umbrella, she allows her gaze to move to the lycan sitting a few stools down from her for a brief time and then she heads for the door. Pulling open the heavy wood, she steps into the doorway and pops the umbrella into a useful position. Tilting her head to the left, her attention falls to the small card decorated with a spiral sun remaining in her place at the bar, her mind’s eye examining the thin script of her writing on the back of the words, ‘Contact me if you feel the need’ along with her first initial and address.

Stepping out of the bar and closing the door behind her, she brings the umbrella above her head as she moves down the sidewalk in a casual stroll to the south. She casts her emerald gaze to the shadows around her, taking note of the different levels of vampires skulking through the darkness on their hunts. “Quite the night for moving about…” she murmurs to herself, fixing her attention ahead of her for the moment while continuing on her walk. Celeste stretches her thin fingers around the handle of the umbrella, a faint melody rising into the air around her as she hums a soothing tune.

Wandering along the blocks, she lets them go by in a blur as memories surface with the scent of the rain dancing into her senses. She lets the impressions pass over her in full force, only anonymous vampires along with other creatures the seeming companions of the city in the storm. After passing several buildings and blocks, her focus comes back to the present while she twists herself around to catch site of a familiar landmark or the street signs. Letting a frown mar her delicate features, she pushes out her lower lip in a small pout as she backtracks a few steps and sighs, “Must be that bad neighborhood I was told to stay out of...”

Celeste wiggles her nose from side to side and observes the streets with quick glances in search of anything familiar. Letting her senses extend out to the shadows nearby, she listens carefully, though the rain pounding on the concrete is dampening the volume of any noise coming in. She sighs and moves to stand next to a building near an alleyway, holding her umbrella up against the weather as she thinks for a few moments. Picking up on the sound of footsteps near her in the alley, she blinks once and slips into a shadow of the doorway a short distance away to wait for the clearing of the presence to her mind. She takes her lower lip between her teeth, chewing on the tender flesh as she shifts her weight a bit from side to side in anticipation.