Chronicles of The Omniverse Archived Lutetia City: Catacombs

Tiko

Tiko

Draconic Administrator/Mentor
Administrator
Mentor
Nexus GM
as written by Knosis

Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip...

The sound of water echos through the walls of the catacombs like the heartbeat of some slumbering giant. Life was scarce in the city's underbelly. In fact, death was most common in the crumbling veins of the city. Bones littered the place, both of creature and human alike and the smell keeps most things sane away from going into them unless desperation drove them.

All except for the rodents. The foul creatures scurry around the catacombs, the vultures of the death infested lair that laid beneath the city.

Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip.

One such rat scurried through the tunnels, sniffing about the bones. It seemed to be reluctant to go into the shadow around the bend and slowly moved around, sniffing the air until it finally disappeared into the darkness. The screaming rodent could be heard echoing for miles in the catacombs...

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.
 
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as written by Knosis

A week or so later...

The man sat with his back against the wall, the bodies of decaying rodents piled around him. He was slowly flexing his arm, curling his fingers into a pale ball and extending them again. He gave a soft grunt at the hitch in the movement. It would seem he was still on the mend, but at least he was in one piece again. The sickly pale figure was so gaunt, he fit in well with the skeletons that surrounded him. The skin seemed to stretch tight over his bones, he nearly seemed a skeleton himself.

Slowly he pushed himself from the ground, crackling and creaking as bone, muscle and cobweb moved for the first time in weeks. His eyes were dark with hunger, his thoughts conflicted with old emotions. During the time he had agonizingly mended himself together, memories of the old came flooding back to the surface, and his old human memories clouded his mind.

"What monster have I become..?" He whispered to himself, stumbling. This question had bounced off his mind several times, passed his dry lips in a prayer-like confession, a plea for forgiveness. But there had been no answer from the rodents that kept him fed, to the God he so long had sought salvation. Only silence and the reminder of the death that ultimately awaited all creatures.
 
as written by Tiko

Surely his God had abandoned him, turned its back upon him for the monster he had become. Surely nothing awaited him but this eternal damnation. And then it came to him - the voice of an angel.

Through his whispered confessions a woman's voice reached him, soft and lyrical.

"God will save his fallen angels... and their broken wings he'll mend... when he draws their hearts together... and they learn to love again.. all their sins will be forgiven..."

The song echoed through the tunnels of the catacomb, leaving it near impossible to discern its exact source, and yet it held a compelling and almost hypnotic note to it.

Come to me it sang to his soul.
 
as written by Knosis

A golden flare lit in the vampires dusty eyes. He looked around, his body creaking as he made sudden movements. He was both enthralled and terrified at the same time. "Who's there?" He asked quietly to the darkness around him. He had heard no one but the rats scurrying in. He moved around, searching, longing.

"How..? How can my Lord forgive me for what I am..? I am a monster.. A demon that has caused nothing but pain and suffering on His creatures..? I have killed many of them..! The greatest sin.." He protested, his voice hoarse as he spoke, dry with the lack of moisture in which he craves.
 
as written by Tiko

"Are we not all God's creations?" the woman's voice asked of him. "Even the monsters?" The words echoed through the tunnels, leading him on seemingly blindingly as his search drew him no closer to that which he sought.

"The greatest sin you have committed is in denying what you are... what He created you to be... You deny His wisdom, and so He turns from you."
 
as written by Knosis

"My.. Greatest sin.." He said softly, repeating the angelic words as it tortured his very soul to find its source. He followed where he thought the tunnels were leading him, splashing through the smelling mess, stumbling as his limbs could barely keep him going.

"What.. What am I..?" He panted, his eyes half crazed. "I have.. Denied.." He stopped, looking up into the darkness as a thought struck him.

The voice had been right. As a man, the salvation from eternal death had been what kept him praying to his God. As a crusader, he delivered sinners to the doorstep of death countless times. As a Vampire, he survived by the death of others. His entire life had been nothing but death, yet he could not achieve his own death. His eyes flared a bright gold as the thought clicked for him.

"Is that what you're telling me.." He whispered into the darkness. "Have you been speaking all this time, and I just had not wanted to listen..?"
 
as written by Tiko

"Come to me, and I will guide you on the path to walk in the grace of God once more..."

The words were scarcely more than a whisper, and for a fleeting moment they carried within them a chilling sensation that left an emptiness in its wake. For a fleeting moment he could almost see her... a dark angel seated within a vast gardens. Behind her pale and ghostly form loomed a large manor house, and at her throat glittered a silver cross that she was fingering absentmindedly.

And then it was gone. The image, the voice, the sensation of another...

Nothing remained but the winding tunnels of the catacombs, and the rats to keep him company.
 
as written by Knosis

"No!" He shouted, spinning around as the sensation left him. He was silent, feeling, listening desperately for the voice to return. He strained his entire being, hoping he could feel her once again. The emptiness and loneliness was all that answered. "No.. Nonono.." He whispered, his mind cracking further with his starved state. "Don't leave me.. I need you..! Please.. Please!" He screamed, stumbling until he found a wall.

There was only one thing driving him now. That beautiful angel had promised him salvation, something no one had even hinted before now he had a chance at. He had to find her. He made his slow ascent through the catacombs, bound and determined to find this angel, and his God once again.
 
as written by Sentry

Jeanne felt as though she was being stifled within the confines of Lutetia City's catacombs. She took in a shallow breath and, through the beams of the team's flashlights, saw the white plume of her breath. Her eyes wandered down the dark hallway before them. The dogs strained at their leashes, whined, and battled against their handlers with anxiousness. The detective rose a brow. It wasn't like the dogs to be so on edge, but the air down there was different. It made everyone antsy.

Cars were parked outside the Cascastel entrance to the catacombs, their lights alternating red and blue. They had only needed one dog to sweep the place and follow a scent that hadn't yet been washed away in the misty drizzle. Not everyone had walked away from that battle, even if their bodies weren't present. Jeanne, at least, was certain of this.

The violence at Cascastel was incredible, but not unheard of. Such a thing was common in this district, but now it wasn't just the packs involved. Innocents had also been hurt. This is what got the department's attention.

So, on that rainy night, the dogs set out and Jeanne was right behind them.
 
as written by Sokka

Myles followed closely behind Jeanne he held his light up Illuminating the way forward through the tunnels. He had spent the morning going from scene to scene. He'd already had one lead. The plate of one of the motor cycles was Registered the the gunshop's owner Jean Renard. This wasn't a break in, he had to have been at the scene. So far there was no sign of the man hopefully this chase would lead them to him.
 
as written by Ronin

The darkness of the catacombs spread out before the officers like a gaping maw. It was a darkness unaccustomed to being disturbed and the shadows seemed to eat at the beams of their flashlights with hungry vigor. Dust crinkled beneath the heels of their boots, a deep chill seeping through their clothes, soaking straight through the skin deep into their bones. Every now and then they would notice a glyph carved into the musty stone, visions of ancient paladins and necromancers of old. Their lidless eyes peered at the passerbys with suspicious coldness, marble faces blank and questioning: why have you come here? What business do the living have in the realm of the dead?

Corso had the lead by several hours, but he had taken his time. The catacombs were an old friend to him - one he had not visited some sixty years. He was pleased to find much was as he'd left it. Many of the corpses resting in their tombs still bore his mark, their rotted flesh whispering to him from beneath their rusty prisons. He walked the halls of the catacombs by the light of a wane green orb nestled into his palm. His flesh-golems trotted obediently behind him - men who, not twelve hours ago, had been alive; would perhaps still be alive had their loyalties to their packs and senseless bigotry not acquainted them with their fate. No matter. They would serve a greater purpose in death than they ever would have realized in life.

Noises. Distant, hollow echoes on the floor ... panting, padding. He was being followed? Impossible. He had been in Lupaix. No one would have pursued him over a couple thugs wasted in a turf war. No one should have cared, unless it were the packs that these gentleman belonged to.

With a breath he snuffed his light, hunkering down in the darkness and listening. They were ways off still, but he couldn't take any chances. He needed to know who they were.

Closing his eyes, Corso tapped into the necromantic energy permeating the catacombs, immersing his consciousnesses with the faded whisps of existence swirling faintly through the air like dying winds - the eternally-fading sentience of the dead. He reached out to a corpse packed away in a wooden wall-tomb not far from where Jeanne, Myles and co were travelling, attuning his senses into the decomposed zombie's body. Temporary patch jobs were made - magic knitting slumps of useless, rotted flesh into pseudo-organs. A cochlea. A retina. Nowhere near as genuine as real healthy biology - useless in fact, on their own - but with Corso's necromancy artificially bolstering their functionality, became a working set of ears and eyes.

Working his mind into the body's muscles, the zombie would just barely open the door to his tomb and look out at the search party. With Corso looking through its eyes, he would quickly figure out how many were present, and would likely be able to deduce that they were police officers.

The opening hatch creeaakkeed. Should the officers turn to look, they would see only the previously closed door slightly ajar, the space too narrow to get a glimpse inside.
 
as written by Sentry

One of the Bloodhound's boots thumped on the squishy, splupy ground as she slid gently to a halt. Her whole body stiffened, fingers wrapped around her pistol, as she whipped around, facing the door. Her other hand reached for Myles' shoulder.

"Don't mind it," she told him. "Keep following the dogs. They know where to go. The catacombs are filled with distractions."

With her eyes still on the door, she continued to follow the team.
 
as written by Sokka

Myles nodded to Jeanne, he continued his current pace though he heard the door creek but kept his eyes forward searching ahead.

"Let's hope nothing distracts the dogs...." He muttered as they kept moving forward.
 
as written by Ronin

So they were police officers. That was unusual. What did a team of cops care for the bodies of werewolves slain in a turf war? Why risk their lives for a couple of Garoux thugs? The dogs explained how they followed him. He would need to mask the scent as soon as possible... coordinate a swift getaway...

...or he could simply kill them. The cops. It shouldn't be too hard. The undead were Corso's to command, and the catacombs were positively teeming with potential servants. Still, murdering the police wasn't ideal - not for now, at least. Two pack members could be missed, but dead cops would draw more attention to his operations, possibly even the church. He wasn't quite ready to face his foes in open combat. Not yet.

With a mental command, he sent the flesh golems ahead of him to prepare the way. His hands disappeared into his jacket and began fiddling with his potion belt, retrieving two different multi-colored liquids and mixing them together. He walked over to a nearby tomb, opened it, and plunged his hand into the mummified corpses ribcage. He retrieved a handful of bones, crushed it in his palm, and sprinkled the dust into the potion. There. When the solution stabilized in five minutes, the scent should thoroughly confuse the dog's noses.

Of course, he might not even need it. There was a good chance the cops would simply flee if given a good scare. That was the most ideal option, and the one that Corso committed himself to as he once again tapped into the necromantic energies swimming around the catacombs, preparing a nasty surprise for his pursuers...

---

At a certain point in their journey, the group would face the entrance of several winding passageways. Tombs lined the walls of them all, the wood chipped and frayed. The dogs would lead them down the leftmost hall ... but the moment they began to journey forward, four of the coffins splintered open.

"Go... back..." a clotted voice growled at them, before four zombies lazed out of their tombs and faced the oncoming officers.
 
as written by Tiko

"The winds blow from the west... departed souls will have no rest..."

They were the words Esmee had murmured softly to herself as they had stood outside the catacombs with the wind and rain blowing strong.

Something had unnerved her even before they had tread within the winding tunnels of the catacombs, and she felt the brush of necromancy crawling over her skin well before the wooden coffins splintered open.

If it was Corso's intent to frighten the cops away, it would take far more than theatrics, and zombies to accomplish such a feat.

"Necromancy," she informed her collegues.

While the others saw to the zombies, Esmee capitalized upon the necromancers blatant use of his craft to begin casting a simple locator spell to track their source.

Trusting in Jeanne and the others to handle the zombies, Esmee closed her eyes briefly to focus her attentions inward.

"Keeper of what disappears, hear me now -- open your ears. Find for me what I now seek, By Moon, Sun, Earth, Air, Fire and Sea."

She felt a well of energy building within her before a glowing green light began to emminate from within the core of each zombie. The light was faint, only a shadow of the necromancer who had raised them. She felt many more nearby as well, dotting the catacombs where Corso had left his mark upon the dead that slumbered within the winding tunnels, but she felt too the presence of Corso himself. All of it was tied together, and Corso was the knot that bound it. Esmee's spell of seeking flowed down the threads tugging her towards their source as she re-opened her eyes. The necromancer was near.
 
"I suspected as much. Typical, running down here like they always do," growled Jeanne. Instead of pulling out her gun, the detective retrieved a baton from her belt. She called out her advance on the undead cadavers ahead of them. "Don't waste your bullets!" she ordered her troupe.

With a cry, she swung for the knees of the zombies, trying to disable them. She had been in the field long enough to know that a headshot rarely worked for something that didn't even use its brains anymore. Complete dismemberment was the first strategy against a necromancer's conjuring.

"Esmee! Do you have a lock on our target?"
 
As written by CaerJester and Knosis

Deep within the catacombs---

The safehouse was empty tonight, save for himself. A rare thing, past few months considered. Normally, his darling Perilous would be by his side, but she was sent far away from the city. She was not safe here, which meant his child was not safe here. He'd call for them, in time, but for now, the Caer Lord pondered his next step deep in his hidden alcove of the Catacombs. Things were moving slowly, but steadily, in the direction his Master desired. Though this week in particular seemed to draw on for an eternity, it would soon be at an end, and then, it would be time to play another hand of poker with the Wick. As things stood right now, scores of mortals were going to die, and unless something unexpected happened, the most the Novus Caer stood to lose were a soldier or two, and perhaps half of the spawn. Trifling causalities for another blow against the accursed Monastic Order.

Still, before that could happen, Nox knew he had to gain some sort of leverage within the lycan packs. His first attempt at contacting such a gang had ended in violence. Violence he'd walked out on the better side of, but violence none the less. Attempting another go at communication would doubtless end in failure if he sought out anyone but the mutt-leader Rowan. But how to get to him? How, how how...?

And then he remembered, and with but a whisper, he called out into the shadows around his table. "Oh, Zanzibar..."

Violet eyes peered from the shadows and slowly, like ink forming a shape, a woman stepped forth from them. She a careful, but playful pout formed on her lips, her flames dancing behind those glowing hues. She wore a well fitted dress that caressed every curve she had as if it were a second skin, and moved almost as such as she crossed over to her Caer master. Delicately, she leaned into him and wrapped her arms softly around his own.

"I was beginning to think you had completely forgotten about me, m'lord..." She crooned. "How can I be of service this fine day?"

Nox lifted a hand from one of the many parchments before him, placing the clawed appendage upon the demon's own. "I could never forget you completely. I just chose to not overuse the toys I want to keep." Silence, as his eyes poured first over her and then the various documents around the great oak table. "I need to find some one, but I can't seek them out myself. I already made a mess of my last diplomatic attempt."

Removing his hand from hers to give a dismissive wave. "I'm bitter about my own failure, but negotiations were never my strong suite. Father always sent Hadren to do that sort of thing, and I was just there to intimidate. Sometimes more. I have no picture of him, nor do I know his face. Just a title. The leader of the Scions, a pack of mongrel-men running about this city. Would that be too hard for you to acquire for me?"

The demon stood quiet for a moment, staring blankly out into the open and her eyes glossed over a moment. "Mmm. Don't think it will be difficult for me to find the mutt. According to the memories I've glanced through lately as I've passed people by and what I've overheard, the werewolf packs are rather well known, and have been making a mess of things. Finding the ring leader of Scions shouldn't be too hard to sniff out for you." Her gaze came back to the present and smiled widely. "How soon would you like him? And where?"

"Soon. Bring him here, and bring him in secret. I don't want him to know where he is, and I don't want him remembering how he got here. I have my reasons why I can't do it myself. I'm gifted at only war. I rely on you and the others to make up for my weaknesses." Admitting such showed that in the sort time since their last rendezvous, the Caer had matured considerably. He seemed cautious now, thinking every move out, guarding his thoughts. "I know you won't disappoint me, Zanzi. This is the first real test your Master is giving you."

Gazing up at him lovingly, a satin purr escaping her lips, she idly pondered his request. She hadn't known him long enough to know how cautious he could be, or otherwise. But even this seemed oddly reserved for the Caer lord that planned to rule the city. "I will do as you've asked, m'lord. I will be what you need me to be. After all," She kissed his hand softly before adding, "I am your most loyal servant." Reluctantly, she released her hold on him, slowly backing away to where the shadows seemed to grasp for her, begging her to return to them.

She stopped short only, the shadows clasping, to add a single question. "Am I allowed to use any means necessary?" This seemed undoubtedly important for her to know, for her master to give her a command. To release her, if only briefly, to do as he commanded.

The nosferatu watched her go with great longing, sharp tongue licking his lips as the infernal mistress swayed away. "Protect yourself, of course, but do your best to make sure none of his dogs die. I'm sure he'll be much less interested in talking if we put down any of the mongrels. So be good, but don't be dumb."

A tome would be opened, and an old piece of parchment would be wripped out. The message written upon the paper was short, sweet, too the point. "Give this to him, and have him read it before you come back. If he is capable of reading. I don't expect much, but I'd rather save as much time as I possibly can."

Her tan fingers gently clasped ripped parchment, her eyes gazing down the frayed edges. She nodded in response to his answer, although the demon seemed a bit disappointed. "I won't harm the smelly mutts unless they start it." She stated. "But even so, I'll be careful not to ruin negotiations with the foul creature, m'lord."

She curtsied before the shadows lurched forward and took her within their folds.
 
From his hiding place, Corso perked at the touch of Esmee's power. A magicker among them? Curious. To think the police force would spare all this for a couple of corpses. Perhaps they were onto him after all...

The zombies wretched, frail bones snapping with each swing of Jeanne's baton. They crumpled to the floor.

Corso's mark infested the corpses of the catacombs like the plagues and illnesses which had put them there. Esmee would see the threads spindling out of their brittle bones like spider webs, thrumming into tunnels dark and damp. Their quarry waited at the end of them, aware of Esmee's presence but seemingly wasting no effort to mask his power...

Suddenly, the energy surged. Esmee would feel the tethers rising, stretching out towards her probing consciousness and attempting to do to her exactly what she was doing to Corso - backtracking her magic back to its source.

"Do you believe the elements will protect you?" A psychic hand lay on her mind, her soul, probing her defenses and testing the barriers protecting her being. "Do you believe you are safe from me?"

Another coffin cracked open - the corpse within stirring to life. Green magic festered in its bowels, rejuvenating lungs, knitting together a larynx, vocal folds, before expanding them, reinforcing the organs beyond the human median, air pumping, vessels surging, the zombie's thin lips opening, bursting-

"AAAAIIIEEEEEEEE!"

Enhanced by Corso's magic, the zombie's newly refurbished lungs, throat and mouth released a banshee screech at a decibel level high enough to shatter the human ear drum. The walls shook, stone quaking, entombed bodies falling over from their perches and lofts. Anyone not protected from the ear-splitting blast may have found themselves deafened and suffering from a severe, disorienting headache.

At the same time, fresh coffins opened, new zombies stirring from their slumber to confront the intruders. A presence weighed on the minds of the encroaching officers - a cold, unfeeling psychic weight, as if they were brushing minds with the dead themselves. Why are you here? the whispers echoed somewhere in their brains, vibrating down their spines. Do you know where you are? Do you know who commands these halls? The answer came to them like the cadence of a beating heart.

The Dead. The Dead. The Dead.
 
As written by CaerBear and Knosis

---Several nights before Nox's battle with Monastic forces in the Phantom Quarter---

The safehouse was empty tonight, save for himself. A rare thing, past few months considered. Normally, his darling Perilous would be by his side, but she was sent far away from the city. She was not safe here, which meant his child was not safe here. He'd call for them, in time, but for now, the Caer Lord pondered his next step deep in his hidden alcove of the Catacombs. Things were moving slowly, but steadily, in the direction his Master desired. Though this week in particular seemed to draw on for an eternity, it would soon be at an end, and then, it would be time to play another hand of poker with the Wick. As things stood right now, scores of mortals were going to die, and unless something unexpected happened, the most the Novus Caer stood to lose were a soldier or two, and perhaps half of the spawn. Trifling casualities for another blow against the accursed Monastic Order.

Still, before that could happen, Nox knew he had to gain some sort of leverage within the lycan packs. His first attemp at contacting such a gang had ended in violence. Violence he'd walked out on the better side of, but violence none the less. Attempting another go at communication would doubtless end in failure if he sought out anyone but the mutt-leader Rowan. But how to get to him? How, how how...?

And then he remembered, and with but a whisper, he called out into the shadows around his table. "Oh, Zanzibar..."

Violet eyes peered from the shadows and slowly, like ink forming a shape, a woman stepped forth from them. She a careful, but playful pout formed on her lips, her flames dancing behind those glowing hues. She wore a well fitted dress that caressed every curve she had as if it were a second skin, and moved almost as such as she crossed over to her Caer master. Delicately, she leaned into him and wrapped her arms softly around his own.

"I was beginning to think you had completely forgotten about me, m'lord..." She crooned. "How can I be of service this fine day?"

Nox lifted a hand from one of the many parchments before him, placing the clawed appendage upon the demon's own. "I could never forget you completely. I just chose to not overuse the toys I want to keep." Silence, as his eyes poured first over her and then the various documents around the great oak table. "I need to find some one, but I can't seek them out myself. I already made a mess of my last diplomatic attempt."

Removing his hand from hers to give a dismissive wave. "I'm bitter about my own failure, but negotiations were never my strong suite. Father always sent Hadren to do that sort of thing, and I was just there to intimidate. Sometimes more. I have no picture of him, nor do I know his face. Just a title. The leader of the Scions, a pack of mongrel-men running about this city. Would that be too hard for you to acquire for me?"

The demon stood quiet for a moment, staring blankly out into the open and her eyes glossed over a moment. "Mmm. Don't think it will be difficult for me to find the mutt. According to the memories I've glanced through lately as I've passed people by and what I've overheard, the werewolf packs are rather well known, and have been making a mess of things. Finding the ring leader of Scions shouldn't be too hard to sniff out for you." Her gaze came back to the present and smiled widely. "How soon would you like him? And where?"

"Soon. Bring him here, and bring him in secret. I don't want him to know where he is, and I don't want him remembering how he got here. I have my reasons why I can't do it myself. I'm gifted at only war. I rely on you and the others to make up for my weaknesses." Admitting such showed that in the sort time since their last rendezvous, the Caer had matured considerably. He seemed cautious now, thinking every move out, guarding his thoughts. "I know you won't disappoint me, Zanzi. This is the first real test your Master is giving you."

Gazing up at him lovingly, a satin purr escaping her lips, she idly pondered his request. She hadn't known him long enough to know how cautious he could be, or otherwise. But even this seemed oddly reserved for the Caer lord that planned to rule the city. "I will do as you've asked, m'lord. I will be what you need me to be. After all," She kissed his hand softly before adding, "I am your most loyal servant." Reluctantly, she released her hold on him, slowly backing away to where the shadows seemed to grasp for her, begging her to return to them.

She stopped short only, the shadows clasping, to add a single question. "Am I allowed to use any means necessary?" This seemed undoubtedly important for her to know, for her master to give her a command. To release her, if only briefly, to do as he commanded.

The nosferatu watched her go with great longing, sharp tongue licking his lips as the infernal mistress swayed away. "Protect yourself, of course, but do your best to make sure none of his dogs die. I'm sure he'll be much less interested in talking if we put down any of the mongrels. So be good, but don't be dumb."

A tome would be opened, and an old piece of parchment would be ripped out. The message written upon the paper was short, sweet, too the point. "Give this to him, and have him read it before you come back. If he is capable of reading. I don't expect much, but I'd rather save as much time as I possibly can."

Her tan fingers gently clasped ripped parchment, her eyes gazing down the frayed edges. She nodded in response to his answer, although the demon seemed a bit disappointed. "I won't harm the smelly mutts unless they start it." She stated. "But even so, I'll be careful not to ruin negotiations with the foul creature, m'lord."

She curtsied before the shadows lurched forward and took her within their folds.
 
As Written by Jester and Knosis

Some time later---

The demon emerged from her shadows, dressed oddly in a business dress and her normally white hair, now a dark shade of auburn, was pulled into a bun. Not a hair out of place, or a single wrinkle on the fabric. Her violet eyes were a soft shade of powdery blue. Her skin was still dark, and the one thing recognizable from her previous form was the markings on her hand she could not cover. She looked exotic, but for the most part, human. Even her scent, although familiar, would not carry the demonic characteristics.

She turned to check to see if the Caer lord was decent. With her bond tying her to him, she knew he was here, although not always what he was up to. "M'lord, I have brought to you who you've requested. His name is Rowan Alaster, alpha of the Scion's." She said, purring. "Whenever you are ready, I will bring him in."

The wintery undead rose from his throne. or what passed for it during this time. A resplendently carved marble chair, as white as it's master's skin. He wore his best clothes, as he always did, but looked better kept than he had in days. It seemed that he would be taking this seriously. Beside him were several briefcases which clinked when he set them upon the great mahogany table that laid before him, awaiting its guest.

"You did very well, Zanzibar. And so quick. I had just finished setting everything up. I think I will reward you later on, but yes, bring the mutt in quickly. I hope hes not too badly damaged. I need him talking, after all."

The shedevil smiled softly and curtsied. "I am glad to have pleased you, m'lord."

"He's no worse for wear, although, he may be slightly confused. He wasn't expecting to get ported over directly." She chuckled. The shadows formed once again revealing a second, but stockier shape within its form. When the shadows withdrew, it was not as graceful as they had released Zanzi. The man held the note the Caer lord had written in his hand, his neck tie slightly loose as if he had been straightening it. Alcohol could be faintly detected on his breath, and it was evident Zanzi had done a number on him, although he didn't seemed harmed anymore than his pride. His cheeks flushed in irritation and he ran a callused hand through his salt and peppered hair.

"Well.." He coughed. "I wasn't aware that your assistant was a witch." The tall man started, tucking the note into his coat pocket. Zanzi walked over and gently straightened Rowan's coat and helped him with his tie. "There you go.." She said softly, biting her bottom lip playfully. "I apologize, Mr. Alaster, for the abruptness of our departure. M'lord does not like to be kept waiting, and it was beneficial that we discussed matters rather quickly. Now.." She turned slightly to look at Nox. "M'lord, I would like you to meet Mr. Rowan Alastar, leader of the Scion's pack."

Whatever misgivings Rowan had with the woman, he relaxed around her, allowing her to straighten his business coat. He gave her a nod and took a deep breath before addressing the Caer lord. "So you've got a deal to offer me, according to your letter. I've an hour before I'm missed. So what is it that you would like to discuss?"

Straight to the point. Perhaps this dog wouldn't be so useless after all. "I'll get right to it then, since time is of the essence. I assume you might know who I am. Doubtless, your lieutenant told you about our...incident, in the warehouse district. I can't remember his name, but he was impressive." He'd approach the lycan leader, extending a frigid claw in lue of a handshake. "My name is Nox Gildea Caeruleum, Thirdboy of Nito Caer, Patriarch of the Novus Imperium. I am the last surviving child of the Old Blood, and I make it my business to know powerful people. People with connections. You are such people."

A grin spread across his porcelain face, splitting it in an almost rough way that threatened to harm his otherworldly features. Though he looked no more that a rather towering man in his later twenties, the glint of a madman's knowledge behind those pale blue eyes said otherwise. "I hope we can be friends, you and I. I have an interesting new narcotic for sale, and you were the first person who came to my mind."

Carelessly, the vampire lord would turn and gesture towards the conference table. "Please, have a seat. I do not have much in lue of refreshments but there is clean water, and wine, red or white. A bit of nose candy if that is your preference. Can't get enough of the stuff myself," Nox explained, relaxing into his temporary throne once more.

Rowan took the vampire's hand firmly, internally wincing at how cold his flesh was compared to his own. What really chilled him though, was the name. Caeruleum, the third son of Nito. Rowan had been alive when the family had been destroyed nearly fifty years prior by the church in the most gruesome and bloody battles this city had endeavored. Well, mostly destroyed, he realized as he released the Caer Lord's hand. "I believe I knew of your family. I was not the pack leader then, but your kin once ruled this entire city. My pack leader, the idiot that he was, kept swearing one day he'd take your father on. Boasted he could kill him." Rowan snorted. "Then it was all we could do to survive while the war went on. I did not think any of you survived that." There was a hint of respect in his tone. As well as a hint of fear hidden within respect.

"I must pass on the offer. I typically want to make sure I'm as sober as I can before making deals. I appreciate it, however." He said, making polite talk as he crossed over to his seat. Zanzi pulled it out for him, and he took it, silently expressing his thanks. "Although, on second thought.." He murmured. "I'll take some water, please." Zanzi nodded and went to fetch some. While she was away, he turned back to Nox. "So you have a product that you'd like me to push for you. I don't need to know whats in it. But I'll need to know some selling points. Kind of hard to push a new drug if the buyers are disappointed in what it does, you know?"
 
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