as written by Emperor Jester and duramon
A hand ran through luscious black locks, as dark as raven wings as he lifted his mouth from his most recent kill. Or what was left of it. Scraps of bone, flesh, and clothes, even some metal from a tooth filling he had spit out while devouring the poor vagrants face. Hunting in wolf territory wasn't his preferred choice, but the woman had run to the border in her terrified plight. Stupid thing.
Wiping his mouth as best he could to remove the sweet sanguine caked over his lips and features, Nox would yawn as he retrieved his clothes from the driest, cleanest part of the alley. It was better to eat nude, to avoid splatters on fabrics that cost more than most mortals made in a year. Besides, the moonlight and the autumn-to-winter winds felt so blissful against his snow driven skin. Once he was more or less clean, dressed, and groomed, the Caer Patriarch would step out from his hidden hole, hands reaching behind his head to pull his trapped hair out from underneath the hem of his coat. The breeze combined with the silky consistency of said hair gave the overly handsome giant the momentary appearance of wings and he couldn't help but let a shiver run through him.
The girl hadn't been a virgin, but her flesh had still be mostly fresh. And thats what had mattered. Warm, pumping sanguine and struggling flesh giving way to cruel fangs and gnashing teeth.
Such ecstasy would be short lived. With narrowed, icy eyes and a snarl building on his lips, Nox soon realized he wasn't alone.
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The wolf took a deep breath and ran a hand swiftly through her hair. Her and her crew had been nearby waiting for the Caer to finish feeding, and now was show time. The wolf was nervous because, well, it was quite possible she was going to be mauled on a whim. No amount of confidence and strength meant rushing towards deaths door was a fun experience. She'd been procrastinating for some time now, mostly so she would behave. Seeing a Naked Adonis would be bad for the business she was hoping to foster, it was the murder business, but she didn't intend to be the first customer just the same. Before she crossed that barrier she checked everything was tidy and presentable. Black dress shirt, check. Red undershirt, check. Black dress pants and shoes, also check. Duffelbag of goodies, good to go.
With one last tug of the cuffs on her black dress-shirt she spun herself around the corner with her hands behind her back, a non-hostile stance. "I'm sorry to interrupt my lord Caer, or should I say Malcolm?" She began. "I've been looking to touch base for awhile now, you and I have a mutual acquaintance and a pain in the ass." She placed the duffelbag in front of herself, a bag containing the weaponry and a scrap of armour from a Paladin, the zipper open to reveal glimpses of the contents including the unique crimson blade of order-make.
"My name is Mordred Holstadt and I wonder if you might be interested in a mutually beneficial conversation, consider the bags contents a sampler of what we can do for you." She offered, accenting the 'we', pausing for a second to check out the body of the Vampire Adonis.
Regrets.
"Apologies again for uuuh, intruding." She offered with an awkward shrug.
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Nox fixed the arrival with a steely gaze, lips twitching in annoyance at being even slightly interrupted. The snarl finished forming and escalated into a deep-throated growl, realization blooming behind those icy blue eyes, a sound of disappointment and rage. "Rei. You mean Rei. How do you know it?" Politically correct as always, this Caer was. There was more behind his uneasy hostility though. Something on the wind was screaming WOLF at him, but the practical part of him reminded the nosferatu about where he was. How close he was to pack territory.
Still. The ruined scraps of one of the Church's Holy Soldiers was hard to ignore. To Nox, yes, they were as if paper. But to others, even the vile mutts that roamed this city, or to a lesser extent, his traitorous kindred, they could prove to be a task. He wasn't impressed, but nor was he entirely dismissive.
"Speak quick, woman. I am in no mood or mind for riddles or guess work. Make your intentions clear, and say what you have to say."
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Grumpy and blunt, Mordred could appreciate that. Although the attitude could do with some adjusting it was only natural when you sat at the top of the food chain. It'd be hard to keep a sunny disposition with everybody else jammed under your ass. Hard to walk too.
"Good, then I'll skip the ass kissing. I've had eyes on you since you took my sis on a romp after the party, a Caer is big news. But I'll spare the life story." She paused and fished out a business card. "I've been building up my squad, doing runs against the Order here and there in preparation for bigger and better things, and after watching I figured with you gearing up yourself, nothing else is bigger and better."
She held out the card to him, a phone number and an address on the flimsy thing beside a picture of a rose growing out of a bloody street.
"Your enemies are moving and since I intend to rip them to shreds, I thought we might be able to partner, employ, be employed by, whatever you want to designate it as. I have specialists for whatever you need, manpower, connections, supplies. I don't expect to be trusted, and I don't care whether you spare me the courtesy. I want the Order on it's knees and my sister back, whoever else you want put in the ground is collateral damage."
Mordred could feel the snarl that would mean a fight, or rather, a slaughter. She could only come off as desperate or stupid to announce such things in a back alley of Wolf territory. She had the area on lock down, but that didn't mean squat to the monster who was standing face to face with a lone woman talking big in an alley with only a single bundle of scraps to back herself up. It was whether or not he would muster the effort to glance beyond the room of the encounter that counted. Truth be told, Mordred was a little desperate, she'd never intended to rely on any other factor, but when her sister was found by her scout, alive, only to be lost a few days later within the folds of the Order. Well, what kind of trash would she be if she couldn't dance with the devil for that?
Confident trash, undeservingly confident trash. Just as she'd always been.
"Rough detailing, but, thoughts?" She queried non-chalantly, dealing at deaths door was never a fun experience, but after a certain amount of time, you just had to stop caring.
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as written by Emperor Jester
Nox felt an eye roll building the entire time, along with an angry, bored sigh. He was completely ready to dismiss this sibling of the one who had failed him so quickly, possibly even kill her out of sheer pettiness. Who was this welpling mortal to come to him, beg him for help? Nox chose his partners, his allies, all except one, and just by looking at this bitch, he knew she was nothing compared to his much missed Sanina Lessard.
In fact, the Caer was so ready to enact his wrath, going so far as to flex his fingers, more pointedly, the dagger like claws that seemed to suddenly adorn the ends of his fingers. But then, her passion, her hate, directed at the one place that would make Nox listen. The Monastic Order. And then, he'd actually LISTEN to the rest of her words, repeating them in his head, slowly.
It would be several long minutes before he'd speak, or respond in any way. Except for an eerie, impossibly slow smile. A grin that rivaled that of any sharks. Then he thought of the boy, Nathan Hart, and the smile quickly threatened to crack his face in half. "...Tell me about these specialist, and everything you know about local news stations..."
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Mordred shivered slightly at the smile, the Cheshire grin that looked like it might tear apart the monsters face. She'd been considering dropping the use of the word for the Caer, but the grin reinforced it as accurate. She was a mutt, but he was a monster through and through.
At least she wasn't dead yet.
"Sounds like you have a plan. I've got pair of nerds who can handle anything from broadcasting to scrambling whatever garbage they have in the stations, and I can get a list of every building hosting radio or television for the city. All I'll need is to hire chumps to follow instructions, it'll cost a pretty penny, but they're local stations, we can get the manpower to hijack all of them with time to gather men." She took a moment to stare at the Caer, trying to remember the details of the work up they'd made for the unpredictable monster. What kind of angle he could be working that she could add to. Pride had been a big feature, so he probably wanted a show.
"We can rig up the sights of the lobbies into the broadcast for viewers in key buildings, I'll leave behind my personal crew to make a show of the police and Paladin's that come if you want to send a message. We might lose a few, but we're prepared for that much." She added, offering up an extra to the job. Her people were prepared to die during their work, her own crew especially were nigh zealots. She just had to hope that the Caer's plans would hit hard enough to be worth it, if not, she could always order a withdrawal after the mess was left in plain view. It left a good point for her to show what her group could do, as much as she hated it, the Caer was the one on top in this relationship.
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as written by Emperor Jester
"So that is a yes? Good. For a second, I was unsure if that confidence and bluster was all bullshit or not." A pause. "And as for things costing 'a pretty penny', you leave that to me. I'll cover all expenses needed, but all that matters is that you get me, a dog, and a boy on camera for at least three minutes. Thats all the time I'll need." He spoke as if he needed help getting inside one of these places, which was a joke of course. However, as much as he hated to admit it, Nox knew next to nothing about modern technology. He'd barely kept up with it when his family was on the top of the corpse pile they'd turned this city into, but during his half a century exile, the Caer's knowledge on the subject had only slipped further and further behind.
And he doubted the boy's mutt, let alone Nathan himself, knew how to operate a camera. The boy was blind, and the dog had no thumbs, so both were out of the question entirely, and to be honest, he had no faith in the sibling of one who had failed him so absolutely. Still, with the manor destroyed and his forces mediocre at best, he knew desperate measures were called for. But damn all things to the cold winters of hell before he'd ever admit such a thing. "Start looking around then. Find these people you'll need, and start figuring out which station we'll be putting on my show at. I'm not picky."
Something would fly through the air towards the half-breed after Nox fumbled around in one of his many pockets on his substitute coat, a burner phone. "Only one number in there. Call it once you have a crew assembled. I'll have to meet them of course. To see if they meet my approval."
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Mordred looked at the Caer with confusion for a moment, apparently he'd not gotten what she was saying. She glazed over whatever it is he wanted to broadcast, those were details for her crew to deal with. An open purse would move things along swiftly enough, not many scumbags would turn down an open invitation to flip off the police for solid pay. So long as they didn't know any better about what they were contributing too.
First was correcting, or rather, gently mentioning, her intentions to the Caer. Handling him was like dealing with a very angry, very murdery toddler.
She caught the phone and without looking at it slipped it into her pocket, she'd memorize the number for later, no reason to leave a paper trail for a wanted war criminal. Caer were on too many hitlist's nowadays. "I'm already runnin' a recruitment drive, if the budgeting is on you men aren't an issue, we can afford to be less picky for a few jobs, filler chumps. But I'll call ya when critical crew are assembled." She paused and ran a hand through her hair again, it was likely a form of tic. "As I was sayin' about stations, I was thinking, all of them. I'll do the leg work, might as well make a big show."
A big enough movement on her end would put her crew on the map, and paint a target on the Order for the underworld to rally behind. It would have been decades since they had something to rally behind that looked promising, this way, she'd be rolling in chumps. Bodies to throw at whatever she needed, and within them genuine gems to filter through the muck for her own personal crew. If things went well that is. Mass terrorism was a difficult thing to master.
She whistled and there was a nearly imperceptible shuffling from above as the lockdown lifted, Mordred poked a thumb behind herself. "It'll be a pleasure to do business, if you'll excuse me?" She questioned.
