Hellion

Penny's Pencils

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Musings n' Dreams

One of the
Most difficult
Battles I face
Each day
Is between
What I know
And what I feel.

And each day
I have to
Remind myself
Not to allow
My emotions
To overpower

Our Final Nights: A World of Darkness Roleplay

Nicole Stathos | Gangrel | 13th Generation

.
.

Who do you trust?
Tell me who do you trust?
I see 'em coming at us
But when the molotov drops
Tell me who do you trust?

Name: Nicole “Nyx” Stathos

Age: 26
Actual: 26

Species: Kindred (neonate)

Clan: (Urban) Gangrel

Disciplines: Celerity | Obfuscate | Protean
Note: her Sire’s former Sabbat affiliation has granted the above disciplines

Generation: 13th

Appearance: Standing at five-foot-four with a weight proportionate and lean muscle, Nicole had always been considered “small but tough” throughout most of her life. She’d been a very physical person, whether it was in work or play, and her shorter than average stature continued to push her to challenge everything.

Her hair, once long, wavey, and beautiful in her mortal life, was reduced to nothing. Shaved down to the scalp out of a fit of rage, after realizing a deep wound given to her by an assailant post-Embrace left one side of her head partially scarred. A spot where hair would never grow properly again.

A tomboy for the most part, typical clothing for her had always been more or less “streetwear”, or at the very least, tshirt, jeans and sneakers. Very rarely did she ever dress up for an event, unless it was absolutely necessary.

Personality: Confident. Outspoken. Polite. Genuine. Compassionate. Just a few traits that could sum her up. Always putting those she cares for first, Nicole would rather live a life where others are the center of her focus. However, don’t ever mistake her friendly disposition with weakness, as she will quickly remind you otherwise. Emotions can run high with her at times, especially in cases dealing with her struggles of immortality and adjusting to the unlife, however she does her best to repress those thoughts and tears in order to move on.

Biography

.
“Your body is dying...pay no attention.”

The unforgettable quote from Interview with the Vampire resonated -oddly enough- within the woman’s otherwise agonized thoughts as she remained curled up in a fetal position on the cold, filthy tile floor of an unfamiliar kitchen in an equally unknown apartment. A place she will most likely never forget. A place she should have never found herself anyway in the late hours. The darkness. The horrible smell of trash, old bleach, spoiled milk, blood, and death. But not fresh death. Rather a creature whose body was rotten from long ago and far past its expiration date. The room had been full of them only minutes before, but now it was only...the silence. All but her heart, as the pumping slowed to a halt, and the once mortal coil she lived with for twenty-six years continued its transformation into something entirely more impressive. Perhaps even more monstrous. What was happening on that night? And more so, what had happened to the large man who caused this shift of lifestyle? A paradigm that was once laid out for the young woman, now turned to a path of uncertainty. The attackers, who had come out of nowhere, resulting in a scar across the woman’s face that may never heal.

And the creature...the hairy beast who saved her from a gruesome death.

How does one find themselves in such a situation?

It only makes sense to go back to the beginning.

-----------

Situated between the megacities of San Francisco and Los Angeles, and bordering Yosemite National Park, Nicole was born to a middle class family in the relatively sleepy town of Fresno. Daughter of a retired police captain, and a flower shop owner, the girl was - at times- standing before a crossroad, wondering just where to go with her life. She respected both of her parents occupations, as law enforcement and entrepreneurship were no easy tasks, however, after graduating highschool, it seemed that her father’s line of work had the most influence during her life and the Fresno Police Academy was the next major step on her journey. Was it something she dreamed of? Not necessarily. But she was never quite sure what her dream was, and simply settled for familiar territory.

Fast-forward seven years, arduous training, political bullshit, misogynist leadership, and generally gathering as much street knowledge as possible, and Nyx found herself in Los Angeles, or more specifically, West Hollywood, working undercover for the LAPD’s narcotics department for a few months. New to the division, but not the life of a police officer, the woman certainly proved capable enough in cracking a number of smaller pending cases that had otherwise baffled the local precincts. Perhaps the chaos and massiveness of Los Angeles simply needed a fresh perspective from a small-town girl, or perhaps, there were greater forces at work. Either way, Nicole was given the chance to strike at the heart of a blackmarket operation, as a meeting with the suspected ringleader was set into motion, with the young woman going as the “potential buyer”.

A few days before the meet -and simply wanting to unwind after a long day- Nyx met a few friends and coworkers at a quaint pub in Fairfax on Melrose Avenue, hoping to drown the stress and anxiety she felt at times on the job. It wasn’t the best idea for a cop, but it sure sounded great at the time. While sitting at a small table near the back corner of the pub, chatting it up with the others, Nicole couldn’t help but glance across the room, almost as though a subtle voice compelled her to do so, as she nervously curled a lock of her shoulder-length auburn hair around an ear. It felt...right. The feeling of possibly knowing the young brunette who sat at the bar nursing some sort of refreshment and exchanged eye contact. Within a few moments, Nicole excused herself, asking the others if they wanted anything from the bar, before heading over there, solely focused on the beautiful woman with the intoxicating smile. Very few friends even knew much about her personal life, especially when it came to relationships or sexual preference, but it all didn’t matter at that moment. There was only her and the mystery woman, and Nicole was intrigued. Stepping up to the bar next to her, she ordered for her friends, to at least keep up the appearance that she wasn’t just strangely drawn to a random female. Small talk or otherwise, they both spoke, Nicole finding herself smiling and blushing more than she had in a long time, caught off guard by the compliments and subtle flirtatious gestures from the woman who called herself “Eva”. After what could have been a solid five minute conversation, Eva handed Nyx a black business card, with a beautifully crafted lavender-tinted “E” emblazoned on the front, with parting words to contact her if she needed anything.

Nicole didn’t quite know what to think of that -just meeting her and all- but she smiled and nodded, before heading back to her table with a new pitcher of beer in her hands and a contemplative expression. Her friends gave the woman their own suspicious looks as to wonder what was going on between the two. One could only imagine.

The Animal I have Become.

The evening of the meet put Nicole in the heart of Park Mesa Heights, one of the roughest neighborhoods in South Los Angeles, and one of a dozen or so areas where cops were found brutally murdered with very little trace of the culprits. Unexplained shit was the norm it seemed these days, so Nicole wasn’t surprised that her backup -two unmarks- were mostly reluctant to take the job considering where the meet was taking place. But, early intel reported very little gang interference that night, so they had to take the opening while it was still possible. With backup flanking both sides of the condemned tenement along 15th Street, Nicole made her way to the second story apartment, as instructed via the dealer’s email, stepping over piles of trash, sleeping, drunk, or high vagrants, and dead rats before knocking at the door which opened within moments.

Greeted by a tall, muscular, bearded man dressed in mostly leathers and covered in tattoos, Nicole followed behind and locked the door per his request. The place was in shambles as one would expect from a building that had been considered “unsafe to occupy” for years, but it looked as though plenty of undesirables took shelter regardless of the concerns.

“I’ll cut right to the chase.” The large man stated, crossing his arms. “I’ve been watching you for awhile, and I know all about you.” He paused for a moment, before allowing a smirk to cross his lips. “Officer Stathos.”

Nyx wasn’t prepared for what had just happened, and her body tensed, her poker face giving away more than she probably hoped for. How the fuck does he know? Was there an insider feeding this shithead police-sensitive information? But he couldn’t know that much. Clearly it’s a bluff.

“Look, I don’t kn-”

“Don’t bother denying it, Nicole. I have literally every piece of intel on you that goes all the way back to mom and pop’s home in cozy Fresno.” He shrugged, while his voice remained even-toned and nonthreatening. “The bottom line is, you’ve got guts, you’re a good cop, and I want you.”

The woman cocked her head slightly, and was just about to say something, until he continued.

“No, not in the way you’re thinking, my friend. You’re not my type.” He snickered, taking a few steps closer. “More like, joining a family who will stick by you through thick and thin.”

The woman wasn’t quite sure how to respond, so she simply didn’t, but rather backed toward the door. Locked. Fuck.

“Now I know this is all a little unorthodox, but I assure you it’ll be over before you know it.” The bearded man kept his arms crossed as he stepped closer.

“Look, just stay the fuck away from me!” She exclaimed, slowly reaching for the 9mm tucked behind her.

The other simply shook his head. “I wouldn’t do that.” He responded, and before the firearm could be presented, supernatural speed positioned him directly at the woman’s side, knocking the weapon from her hand and pinning her against the door with strength that felt like the weight of a garbage truck had pressed down against her torso.

“You can struggle...” The man growled, his eyes glowing a subtle amber as he pierced her own frightened gaze. “But it’ll only make what’s coming next all the more painful.”

“Wait-”

Before further protest, a sharp pinch surged through the flesh on her neck, the muscles tensing, causing the woman to recoil and attempt to pull away from the iron grip of the large bearded man. But the short-lived pain quickly turned to a pleasurable experience as her body slowly relaxed, and the blood being siphoned from the open artery flowed freely and with little resistance. Her mind, body, and soul would all succumb to the song of the kindred. The Kiss. The Embrace. What felt like an eternity had only been a few moments, but the vampire who would become her Sire carried the woman to the center of the living room and laid her down onto the floor, before opening his wrist to allow his new Childe to feed. And feed she did, without much hesitation in fact, as though the very lifeforce which coursed through his veins called out to her. Beckoning her to become one. One flesh. A pact that would be unbreakable until Final Death.

In a sudden turn of events, the front door of the apartment was kicked in and off its hinges, and three figures -silhouetted by the light of the street ambience- rushed in, catching the Gangrel off guard. The lead assailant, a hefty dark-skinned brute with a shaved head and gold teeth snarled baring fangs as he leapt with inhuman speed at the bearded vampire, knocking him against the adjacent wall. The large Gangrel recovered quickly, landing on his feet and springing forward with ebony claws out and rage in his expression. The altercation between the two seemed to go on for what could have been mere seconds at their rate of acceleration, with growls, hisses, and the crunching of bone and cartilage with each exchange of punches and kicks.

And there was Nicole, her body slowly going through the agonizing physical and psychological transformation of vampirism, was of little use in an otherwise vulnerable state.

But, it mattered not, for as quickly as the fight started, it ended, with the Gangrel being held by the other two attackers, and the leader pulling a large iron rod from his coat and placing it over the heart of the bearded one.

“How did you find me?” The Gangrel hissed through clenched teeth.

“No one dips out on the Sabbat.” The dark-skinned man growled before driving the rod through the other’s chest, eliciting a blood curdling howl before his body went limp. “Take that punk-ass outta here.” He spat. “I’ll deal with his bitch.”

The woman’s body continued to react to the vitae introduced into her system minutes early, even as she stared up at the man looming over her with a poisonous grin, trying to formulate words of help or to plead for her life. She had no idea what was transpiring at that moment. Was she drugged? Had she been hit by something? Her head throbbed, muscled convulsed, and veins burned with a fire from a thousand suns. The Gangrel’s own blood was killing every cell in her body, reforming organs and tissue into something else. Something...monstrous.

“Pathetic lil dog.” He shook his head mockingly. “Not even worth my time, but can’t leave any loose ends.” He said, pulling a military grade tactical knife from his coat. “And yo a fuckin’ huge loose end. And don’t think your friends are coming. Nope. I’d say they're out for the count. For good.” A wry grin crossed his dark lips. “Fuckin’ mortal pigs.”

“But-ah, I’m gonna take a lil souvenir before I slice yo pretty ass up good.” The dark man leaned over the woman and grabbed a handful of her hair, running the blade across her scalp as Nicole’s own hand grabbed on his wrists. Strength was slowly forming in her muscles, but not enough to do anything worth keeping the stranger from cutting away a few locks of hair from the side of her head.

“Fuck you!” She vomited out the words as blood streamed from the corners of her lips, feebly attempting to punch her assailant in the head with her free hand. One. Two. Three. The punches did nothing as the dark man smiled, taking his own hand and raking clawed fingers across part of her face and head, which caused the woman to scream in pain as the inherent poisons aggravated the wounds.

“Ev’ryone has their kinks.” He chuckled, hovering the tip of the blade over the exposed and bloodied throat of the woman. “Mine just happens to be causing pain-”

But before the vampire could finish, he sniffed the air and quickly turned his head in surprise only to notice a creature, whose stature reached the ceiling, looming behind him. Although it was too late, as the hairy beast thrust it’s large clawed hand forward, grabbing the head of the Sabbat creeper, and slamming him against the floor with a force that sent a rumble across the apartment. Again and again the Werewolf plowed the head of the other against the splintered hardwood floor until the body went limp, and no longer was the vampire a threat.

The towering creature allowed a low growl to slip through it’s huge muzzle as it merely stared at the female neonate laying at its feet, her own eyes glared back with a mixture of confusion and rage.

“You’ll need this, and I suggest you get the hell out of here soon.” The beast said, tossing a blood pouch which landed next to her before effortlessly hoisting the dead vampire up and over its shoulder and heading out through the door.

“Ah...and let Eva know that my debt is paid.” It concluded, disappearing into the darkness.

And so we end where this began. On the floor of a place unfamiliar to her, staring through eyes that did not belong to her prior to the Embrace that changed everything. The blood pouch had been ripped open easily enough, and a woman who’d never thought drinking blood of any kind would be a treat, guzzled the two pints down as though it would be her last. It began it’s mending of wounds, although the scars on her face would never truly heal fully. And it didn’t take long for at least the hunger, the rage, and the instinct to want to rip something apart to subside as the vitae ran its course, nourishing as best it could. Extinguishing the beast within that so badly wanted to claw its way out of the darkness.

Not today Satan. But maybe tomorrow.

Hands trembling, Nicole sat up and reached for her phone, calling both men who were to be the backup for the operation that was clearly a total cluster fuck. It wasn’t even real. It was all a sham, and the woman fell for it, hook line and sinker. There was no answer from either cell, and while shaken and confused beyond belief, she needed to know, and so she stood and made her way out of the apartment complex to where the unmarked cars were to be positioned. And there they were. The cars. The corpses of both officers. A bullet to each of their skulls. Their lives ended due to a big joke.

And Nicole was the punchline.

She wanted to cry, but could not. Tears that were once something familiar to her had disappeared. There was nothing but agony and guilt. She reached into the car and grabbed the police radio, calling out for emergency assistance due to two police officers down. The whole operation was a bust. It didn’t matter who knew about what anymore. It was all a setup. Who could she go to? Sure as hell not her Captain. Nicole couldn’t stop shaking. It wasn’t the hunger from her new unlife, it was fear of the unknown. Fear and uncertainty of anything anymore. The initial transition from mortal to kindred was no easy thing for the psyche to wrap around. None of it should be what it is, but it happened. Although...what happened? What was happening to Officer Nicole Stathos?

That night fear compelled her to flee. To run far from where all of this had gone down. And so, with a heavy conscience she leapt into her car and peeled off into the coolness of the night. Back to her apartment. Back to the familiar turf of West Hollywood.

Musings n' Dreams

There are times
I wish I could take
The colors from the rainbow
And place them in your heart
So you can remember
What beauty felt like.

If only I could
Take the glaciers
Of the great Artic
And place them
Within your soul
To extinguish
The brush fires
Of fear and anxiety.

I wish you could see
The world through my eyes
Instead of the black and white
Filter you've reserved for yourself.

Our Final Nights: A World of Darkness Roleplay

Gangrel is finally finished...

Nicole Stathos | Gangrel | 13th Generation

Who do you trust?
Tell me who do you trust?
I see 'em coming at us
But when the molotov drops
Tell me who do you trust?

Name: Nicole “Nyx” Stathos

Age: 26
Actual: 26

Species: Kindred (neonate)

Clan: (Urban) Gangrel

Disciplines: Celerity | Obfuscate | Protean
Note: her Sire’s former Sabbat affiliation has granted the above disciplines

Generation: 13th

Appearance: Standing at five-foot-four with a weight proportionate and lean muscle, Nicole had always been considered “small but tough” throughout most of her life. She’d been a very physical person, whether it was in work or play, and her shorter than average stature continued to push her to challenge everything.

Her hair, once long, wavey, and beautiful in her mortal life, was reduced to nothing. Shaved down to the scalp out of a fit of rage, after realizing a deep wound given to her by an assailant post-Embrace left one side of her head partially scarred. A spot where hair would never grow properly again.

A tomboy for the most part, typical clothing for her had always been more or less “streetwear”, or at the very least, tshirt, jeans and sneakers. Very rarely did she ever dress up for an event, unless it was absolutely necessary.

Personality: Confident. Outspoken. Polite. Genuine. Compassionate. Just a few traits that could sum her up. Always putting those she cares for first, Nicole would rather live a life where others are the center of her focus. However, don’t ever mistake her friendly disposition with weakness, as she will quickly remind you otherwise. Emotions can run high with her at times, especially in cases dealing with her struggles of immortality and adjusting to the unlife, however she does her best to repress those thoughts and tears in order to move on.

Biography

.
“Your body is dying...pay no attention.”

The unforgettable quote from Interview with the Vampire resonated -oddly enough- within the woman’s otherwise agonized thoughts as she remained curled up in a fetal position on the cold, filthy tile floor of an unfamiliar kitchen in an equally unknown apartment. A place she will most likely never forget. A place she should have never found herself anyway in the late hours. The darkness. The horrible smell of trash, old bleach, spoiled milk, blood, and death. But not fresh death. Rather a creature whose body was rotten from long ago and far past its expiration date. The room had been full of them only minutes before, but now it was only...the silence. All but her heart, as the pumping slowed to a halt, and the once mortal coil she lived with for twenty-six years continued its transformation into something entirely more impressive. Perhaps even more monstrous. What was happening on that night? And more so, what had happened to the large man who caused this shift of lifestyle? A paradigm that was once laid out for the young woman, now turned to a path of uncertainty. The attackers, who had come out of nowhere, resulting in a scar across the woman’s face that may never heal.

And the creature...the hairy beast who saved her from a gruesome death.

How does one find themselves in such a situation?

It only makes sense to go back to the beginning.

-----------

Situated between the megacities of San Francisco and Los Angeles, and bordering Yosemite National Park, Nicole was born to a middle class family in the relatively sleepy town of Fresno. Daughter of a retired police captain, and a flower shop owner, the girl was - at times- standing before a crossroad, wondering just where to go with her life. She respected both of her parents occupations, as law enforcement and entrepreneurship were no easy tasks, however, after graduating highschool, it seemed that her father’s line of work had the most influence during her life and the Fresno Police Academy was the next major step on her journey. Was it something she dreamed of? Not necessarily. But she was never quite sure what her dream was, and simply settled for familiar territory.

Fast-forward seven years, arduous training, political bullshit, misogynist leadership, and generally gathering as much street knowledge as possible, and Nyx found herself in Los Angeles, or more specifically, West Hollywood, working undercover for the LAPD’s narcotics department for a few months. New to the division, but not the life of a police officer, the woman certainly proved capable enough in cracking a number of smaller pending cases that had otherwise baffled the local precincts. Perhaps the chaos and massiveness of Los Angeles simply needed a fresh perspective from a small-town girl, or perhaps, there were greater forces at work. Either way, Nicole was given the chance to strike at the heart of a blackmarket operation, as a meeting with the suspected ringleader was set into motion, with the young woman going as the “potential buyer”.

A few days before the meet -and simply wanting to unwind after a long day- Nyx met a few friends and coworkers at a quaint pub in Fairfax on Melrose Avenue, hoping to drown the stress and anxiety she felt at times on the job. It wasn’t the best idea for a cop, but it sure sounded great at the time. While sitting at a small table near the back corner of the pub, chatting it up with the others, Nicole couldn’t help but glance across the room, almost as though a subtle voice compelled her to do so, as she nervously curled a lock of her shoulder-length auburn hair around an ear. It felt...right. The feeling of possibly knowing the young brunette who sat at the bar nursing some sort of refreshment and exchanged eye contact. Within a few moments, Nicole excused herself, asking the others if they wanted anything from the bar, before heading over there, solely focused on the beautiful woman with the intoxicating smile. Very few friends even knew much about her personal life, especially when it came to relationships or sexual preference, but it all didn’t matter at that moment. There was only her and the mystery woman, and Nicole was intrigued. Stepping up to the bar next to her, she ordered for her friends, to at least keep up the appearance that she wasn’t just strangely drawn to a random female. Small talk or otherwise, they both spoke, Nicole finding herself smiling and blushing more than she had in a long time, caught off guard by the compliments and subtle flirtatious gestures from the woman who called herself “Eva”. After what could have been a solid five minute conversation, Eva handed Nyx a black business card, with a beautifully crafted lavender-tinted “E” emblazoned on the front, with parting words to contact her if she needed anything.

Nicole didn’t quite know what to think of that -just meeting her and all- but she smiled and nodded, before heading back to her table with a new pitcher of beer in her hands and a contemplative expression. Her friends gave the woman their own suspicious looks as to wonder what was going on between the two. One could only imagine.

The Animal I have Become.

The evening of the meet put Nicole in the heart of Park Mesa Heights, one of the roughest neighborhoods in South Los Angeles, and one of a dozen or so areas where cops were found brutally murdered with very little trace of the culprits. Unexplained shit was the norm it seemed these days, so Nicole wasn’t surprised that her backup -two unmarks- were mostly reluctant to take the job considering where the meet was taking place. But, early intel reported very little gang interference that night, so they had to take the opening while it was still possible. With backup flanking both sides of the condemned tenement along 15th Street, Nicole made her way to the second story apartment, as instructed via the dealer’s email, stepping over piles of trash, sleeping, drunk, or high vagrants, and dead rats before knocking at the door which opened within moments.

Greeted by a tall, muscular, bearded man dressed in mostly leathers and covered in tattoos, Nicole followed behind and locked the door per his request. The place was in shambles as one would expect from a building that had been considered “unsafe to occupy” for years, but it looked as though plenty of undesirables took shelter regardless of the concerns.

“I’ll cut right to the chase.” The large man stated, crossing his arms. “I’ve been watching you for awhile, and I know all about you.” He paused for a moment, before allowing a smirk to cross his lips. “Officer Stathos.”

Nyx wasn’t prepared for what had just happened, and her body tensed, her poker face giving away more than she probably hoped for. How the fuck does he know? Was there an insider feeding this shithead police-sensitive information? But he couldn’t know that much. Clearly it’s a bluff.

“Look, I don’t kn-”

“Don’t bother denying it, Nicole. I have literally every piece of intel on you that goes all the way back to mom and pop’s home in cozy Fresno.” He shrugged, while his voice remained even-toned and nonthreatening. “The bottom line is, you’ve got guts, you’re a good cop, and I want you.”

The woman cocked her head slightly, and was just about to say something, until he continued.

“No, not in the way you’re thinking, my friend. You’re not my type.” He snickered, taking a few steps closer. “More like, joining a family who will stick by you through thick and thin.”

The woman wasn’t quite sure how to respond, so she simply didn’t, but rather backed toward the door. Locked. Fuck.

“Now I know this is all a little unorthodox, but I assure you it’ll be over before you know it.” The bearded man kept his arms crossed as he stepped closer.

“Look, just stay the fuck away from me!” She exclaimed, slowly reaching for the 9mm tucked behind her.

The other simply shook his head. “I wouldn’t do that.” He responded, and before the firearm could be presented, supernatural speed positioned him directly at the woman’s side, knocking the weapon from her hand and pinning her against the door with strength that felt like the weight of a garbage truck had pressed down against her torso.

“You can struggle...” The man growled, his eyes glowing a subtle amber as he pierced her own frightened gaze. “But it’ll only make what’s coming next all the more painful.”

“Wait-”

Before further protest, a sharp pinch surged through the flesh on her neck, the muscles tensing, causing the woman to recoil and attempt to pull away from the iron grip of the large bearded man. But the short-lived pain quickly turned to a pleasurable experience as her body slowly relaxed, and the blood being siphoned from the open artery flowed freely and with little resistance. Her mind, body, and soul would all succumb to the song of the kindred. The Kiss. The Embrace. What felt like an eternity had only been a few moments, but the vampire who would become her Sire carried the woman to the center of the living room and laid her down onto the floor, before opening his wrist to allow his new Childe to feed. And feed she did, without much hesitation in fact, as though the very lifeforce which coursed through his veins called out to her. Beckoning her to become one. One flesh. A pact that would be unbreakable until Final Death.

In a sudden turn of events, the front door of the apartment was kicked in and off its hinges, and three figures -silhouetted by the light of the street ambience- rushed in, catching the Gangrel off guard. The lead assailant, a hefty dark-skinned brute with a shaved head and gold teeth snarled baring fangs as he leapt with inhuman speed at the bearded vampire, knocking him against the adjacent wall. The large Gangrel recovered quickly, landing on his feet and springing forward with ebony claws out and rage in his expression. The altercation between the two seemed to go on for what could have been mere seconds at their rate of acceleration, with growls, hisses, and the crunching of bone and cartilage with each exchange of punches and kicks.

And there was Nicole, her body slowly going through the agonizing physical and psychological transformation of vampirism, was of little use in an otherwise vulnerable state.

But, it mattered not, for as quickly as the fight started, it ended, with the Gangrel being held by the other two attackers, and the leader pulling a large iron rod from his coat and placing it over the heart of the bearded one.

“How did you find me?” The Gangrel hissed through clenched teeth.

“No one dips out on the Sabbat.” The dark-skinned man growled before driving the rod through the other’s chest, eliciting a blood curdling howl before his body went limp. “Take that punk-ass outta here.” He spat. “I’ll deal with his bitch.”

The woman’s body continued to react to the vitae introduced into her system minutes early, even as she stared up at the man looming over her with a poisonous grin, trying to formulate words of help or to plead for her life. She had no idea what was transpiring at that moment. Was she drugged? Had she been hit by something? Her head throbbed, muscled convulsed, and veins burned with a fire from a thousand suns. The Gangrel’s own blood was killing every cell in her body, reforming organs and tissue into something else. Something...monstrous.

“Pathetic lil dog.” He shook his head mockingly. “Not even worth my time, but can’t leave any loose ends.” He said, pulling a military grade tactical knife from his coat. “And yo a fuckin’ huge loose end. And don’t think your friends are coming. Nope. I’d say they're out for the count. For good.” A wry grin crossed his dark lips. “Fuckin’ mortal pigs.”

“But-ah, I’m gonna take a lil souvenir before I slice yo pretty ass up good.” The dark man leaned over the woman and grabbed a handful of her hair, running the blade across her scalp as Nicole’s own hand grabbed on his wrists. Strength was slowly forming in her muscles, but not enough to do anything worth keeping the stranger from cutting away a few locks of hair from the side of her head.

“Fuck you!” She vomited out the words as blood streamed from the corners of her lips, feebly attempting to punch her assailant in the head with her free hand. One. Two. Three. The punches did nothing as the dark man smiled, taking his own hand and raking clawed fingers across part of her face and head, which caused the woman to scream in pain as the inherent poisons aggravated the wounds.

“Ev’ryone has their kinks.” He chuckled, hovering the tip of the blade over the exposed and bloodied throat of the woman. “Mine just happens to be causing pain-”

But before the vampire could finish, he sniffed the air and quickly turned his head in surprise only to notice a creature, whose stature reached the ceiling, looming behind him. Although it was too late, as the hairy beast thrust it’s large clawed hand forward, grabbing the head of the Sabbat creeper, and slamming him against the floor with a force that sent a rumble across the apartment. Again and again the Werewolf plowed the head of the other against the splintered hardwood floor until the body went limp, and no longer was the vampire a threat.

The towering creature allowed a low growl to slip through it’s huge muzzle as it merely stared at the female neonate laying at its feet, her own eyes glared back with a mixture of confusion and rage.

“You’ll need this, and I suggest you get the hell out of here soon.” The beast said, tossing a blood pouch which landed next to her before effortlessly hoisting the dead vampire up and over its shoulder and heading out through the door.

“Ah...and let Eva know that my debt is paid.” It concluded, disappearing into the darkness.

And so we end where this began. On the floor of a place unfamiliar to her, staring through eyes that did not belong to her prior to the Embrace that changed everything. The blood pouch had been ripped open easily enough, and a woman who’d never thought drinking blood of any kind would be a treat, guzzled the two pints down as though it would be her last. It began it’s mending of wounds, although the scars on her face would never truly heal fully. And it didn’t take long for at least the hunger, the rage, and the instinct to want to rip something apart to subside as the vitae ran its course, nourishing as best it could. Extinguishing the beast within that so badly wanted to claw its way out of the darkness.

Not today Satan. But maybe tomorrow.

Hands trembling, Nicole sat up and reached for her phone, calling both men who were to be the backup for the operation that was clearly a total cluster fuck. It wasn’t even real. It was all a sham, and the woman fell for it, hook line and sinker. There was no answer from either cell, and while shaken and confused beyond belief, she needed to know, and so she stood and made her way out of the apartment complex to where the unmarked cars were to be positioned. And there they were. The cars. The corpses of both officers. A bullet to each of their skulls. Their lives ended due to a big joke.

And Nicole was the punchline.

She wanted to cry, but could not. Tears that were once something familiar to her had disappeared. There was nothing but agony and guilt. She reached into the car and grabbed the police radio, calling out for emergency assistance due to two police officers down. The whole operation was a bust. It didn’t matter who knew about what anymore. It was all a setup. Who could she go to? Sure as hell not her Captain. Nicole couldn’t stop shaking. It wasn’t the hunger from her new unlife, it was fear of the unknown. Fear and uncertainty of anything anymore. The initial transition from mortal to kindred was no easy thing for the psyche to wrap around. None of it should be what it is, but it happened. Although...what happened? What was happening to Officer Nicole Stathos?

That night fear compelled her to flee. To run far from where all of this had gone down. And so, with a heavy conscience she leapt into her car and peeled off into the coolness of the night. Back to her apartment. Back to the familiar turf of West Hollywood.

D&D 3.5e - The Marches of the Savage Realm

At the mention from the human Paladin, the Goliath did in fact keep her guard up, it was instinctive to say the least. She didn't trust the underbelly of the surface world. Not in the slightest. That was for the Dwarves, Gnomes, and other species whom found shelter and solace in such places. It seemed, in her experiences, that rarely didn't anything good outside of perhaps precious ore, and various other materials for crafting, came from the underground dwellings. Perhaps it was Thraduum that twisted her outlook. Most a pity.

At least the Elf had some sense to stay away. She mused, glancing at the wild creature who kept a watchful eye. It was in her blood as well. The warrior. The sentinel. Forever in the forefront of their minds.

Turning her attention to the others fixated on the chest, she did, however wonder just what could be so important inside such a small package. Or was it that innate feeling that they deserved a prize for their troubles? She shook her head and returned her gaze toward the tunnels.

As far as Vah'lux was concerned, the only "treasure" was survival.

Musings n' Dreams

I have come
To the realization
That you weren't
The one who
Wrecked me,
Ruined me,
Or destroyed me.

It was all of
My own doing.
My own paranoia.
My own fucked outlook.
Because only I
Have the power
To do that

Musings n' Dreams

Sometimes this coffin
Is suffocating,
But then there is
Your absence.

D&D 3.5e - The Marches of the Savage Realm

"“Thavaal!” The Goliath growled, pulling the bloodied ax blade from the stench-filled rat carcass, she was ready to take on yet another, her large heart pumping rapidly, and muscles tensed to slay more of the vile creatures that seemed to never end. But a quick glance by the light of Renault's lantern revealed none to be had. At least, none that wanted to pick a fight with the group, as any further rats that may have been seen prior to the fight scattered and vanished into the shadows. After a few moments of the realization, Vah'lux lowered her weapon, flicking her wrist enough to cause a good amount of the vermin's blood to fly off the blade and splatter to the dirt below.

Closing her eyes for a few seconds, she allowed focused breathing to slow the the quickened pace of her heart, and her mind. The Rage within wanting ever-so-eagerly to crawl out from its depths and destroy. But it was an anger and fighting prowess that could be stilled easily enough through training learned long ago. Training that kept her from becoming just another wild beast. But it hadn't been simply the fight which caused a spike, but also the underlying fear of being underground. Not a debilitating fear -thank Kavaki- but one of which urged her enough to want to get the hell out of the rat hole.

"Let us move." She grumbled, almost to herself, but enough so that her husky voice could be heard. The Goliath had no desire to linger any longer than was needed in a place full of nothing but death.

Musings n' Dreams

The early morning hours
Are for those who can't sleep
Because their minds are alive
With words for someone
Who isn't there.

Weeping behind hands held
To cover their shame.
To forget someone who left.

The early morning hours
Are not for lovers
Asleep in each other's arms
Until the warmth of the sun
Is cast upon their faces.

It is for the lonely.
The ones who are in love
With the loved.