MelodicElement

Recollections: Magnanimous (A unique Urban-fantasy rp)

I have a few ideas.

Prey Tell (Or Keep It To Yourself){Accepting Players!}

The Archipelago was once much more than one of the plethora of eateries that populated Gravette, at one time this particular establishment was where the rich, the powerful, the famous and those who fell under all of the above came to conduct the city's most pressing business of the day. These booths bore witness to both the rise and fall of many influential people throughout the city's storied history. Before these times of socially imposed austerity and responsibility, it was a bastion of decadent frivolity where purchasing a cup of coffee that cost more than what most folks made in a day was lauded rather than derided. To have a reservation here used to mean something, it was once a statement of one's importance. Instead of resting on its laurels this place was now a shell of its former self having given up its exclusivity years ago in order to cater to waning and waxing trends. A cautionary tale for sure.

Kav would have never come to this nostalgia trap on his own accord as this place was filled with a lot of bougie tourists, the type who worked all year to afford second hand Louis Vuitton bags in order to brag to their coworkers at the dingy little office they slaved away in. Those that frequented here nowadays reeked of desperation, which was something that Kav found often permeated one's entire personality. This scene was so pathetic that he even refused livestream himself here as it would come off as pandering even to the type of audience he normally attracted. He let himself sink deeper into the garish, worn leather of the booth's seats trying his best not to been seen at an establishment such as this. His disdain for places like this was more than likely the reason his rather eccentric companion insisted on dinning here. If any other person or being had extended an invitation to this place, Kav would have produced a litany of excuses on why he simply could not attend, but Knog was an exception. Knog, a satyr was one of the handful of supernaturals that Kav risked interacting with.
The two men sitting across from each other could not be more different. Kav's is flamboyantly dressed in a silk blouse, which is open at the throat; this is complemented by velvet pants which are the color of dried currants. He is sharp angles wrapped in soft clothing; he exudes an unnatural beauty. In contrast Knog has a lecherous, alcohol-sodden, haggard appearance; he appears to be the older one of the pair by a number of years. His clothing are tattered and he is caked in what could be loosely be described as grime. Knog clearly wears his sins with pride, his libertine spirit resonates deep within his grubby core. Kav made a habit of interacting with the fashion impaired as little as possible, but much to his dismay sometimes certain skills and talents were only gifted to the unsightly.

Knog has been talking. Kav’s ear off for the past hour, they aren’t really having a conversation as there’s little reciprocation here, just Knog rambling. Kav knew better to interrupt, lest the old goat start his ranting and raving from the begining, though he was slowly losing interest in the interaction. Between sips of an unimpressive vintage Champagne Kav was preoccupied with his emery board, scratching his nails into points.

"Remember Alexandria? Ah, good times my boy. Remember, when we hoodwinked that Sphinx. Got her good, we did. Got her so good, she is probably still raging to this day bemoaning the loss of her precious treasure trove of secrets. A Sphinx who is also cat burglar, is just a succulent combination. She really had my hooves over the fire with those uh...tapes. And you know I have no great luck when it comes to riddles and other assorted whimsical trickery. You really did me a solid, I would have been finished...kaput...if the content on those tapes were leaked. Afterall, what good is a compromised information broker..."

"Boring. You are boring me Knog darling and in doing so you are testing my patience. As much as I would love to sit in this rundown tourist trap and rehash our past escapades down to every minute detail, I am a very busy individual. My adoring public needs to live vicariously through me and they cannot do that if I stuck listening to you prattle on about nothing all damn day. Is there any particular purpose behind you dragging me out of bed and the arms of one my many lovers? Because, if not I going to mysteriously become alot harder to reach in the future."

Knog, pretended to be offended at Kav's comments, before retorting. "You would not dare pass me off to one of your assistants because you know full well that I would make that poor unfortunate soul's life a living hell. Since what I have to say is time sensitive, I might as well tell you now. That special someone you wanted me to track down, well I have it on good authority that he is here in the city. One of my nameless contacts in the underground clued me into that."

Knog smirks as he produces a unique looking matchbox from his jacket pocket. "You know matches commonly come from places like China or Russia. Not a lot of interest in importing such things from a tiny village in Bulgaria. Someone's trash can certainly say a lot about them. Don’t you think so your grace."

Kav beamed primarily because he loved when those below him acknowledged his superior station in this world, but also at the news. He arched his eyebrow. "You know for once I am actually eager to hear what you have to say. Do go on my good sir."
------

Vanja drifted for an indeterminate amount of time in the realm only know to those who succumbed to sleep or in his case unconsciousness, the realm of half formed thoughts and hazy memories. Jumbled images made their way into the forefront of his mind and the sound of words spoken yet forgotten reverberated throughout his consciousness. He pondered as many do in this state if he was indeed dead or just dreaming before succumbing to an errant memory and repeating the process ad nauseum. This state of being is only temporary and eventually Vanja was roused from his slumber and returned to the realm of the waking. For the briefest of milliseconds one awakens as a blank slate before the reality of their life up to this moment catches up to them. He certainly had a few questions with ‘Where was he’ and ‘What Happened’ being among the primary among them. Last thing he could remember was having a confrontation an alleyway in front of a dive bar. Wait was someone carrying him? It all came flooding back at this precise moment. He would have honestly preferred if they killed him instead of subjecting him to the indignity of having the brutish bodybuilder lug him around like a sack of lumpy potatoes. He could not fault them for wanting to comb his mind for information on his cohorts, smart move.

He mulled over if he was just going to sell Harry Alberts out to these creatures. God, this was turning out to be another Kathmandu. Alberts could have warned him at breakfast that a group like his current captors was hunting in the vicinity of the café, but despite them being shockingly easy to find he doubted Alberts was looking too hard. That good-for-nothing waste of space sadist was probably distracted by hunting his own prey in this urban jungle. Though he had to wonder if Alberts set him up, perhaps he was not as stupid as he appeared to be; typical lazy coward had to have others do his dirty work. If Alberts had any honor, he would have done the dirty deed himself, well to be fair if Alberts had any honor he would not be a unrepentant serial killer. On the other hand, perhaps this was just a coincidence an unlucky coincidence stemming from his own hubris. Vanja quelled these intrusive thoughts for the moment and he tried to get his bearings.

For some strange reason he could not shake the feeling he was thrown down a flight of stairs recently despite to his knowledge only collapsing in the alleyway, also there was the all-encompassing sound of rushing water. Waterboarding was certainly a way to extract information…not accurate information, but information, nonetheless. However, if the sounds were anything to go by his captors were going a little overboard. Perhaps his eardrum was ruptured in his collapse. He pondered on the reasoning behind that earlier failure; maybe one of them had psionic or sonic abilities, he certainly seen stranger things than that occur since becoming a mercenary. He was willing to endure whatever his captors had instore for him. He would find a way to turn things back into his favor, if he had to deal with devils in the interim so be it.

Prey Tell (Or Keep It To Yourself){Accepting Players!}

Kav Vilhjálmsson

Name: Kav Vilhjálmsson

Faceclaim

Age: 29, though he appears to be in his early twenties.

Supernatural Race: Fae

Ethnicity/Race: Romani/Bosinian

Supernatural Tattoo: Located on His Inner Left Wrist

Appearance: Standing at 5’10” Kav has a slender build. Kav carries himself like royalty with an air of pretentiousness; he acts like he owns everything and everyone in any room he happens to walk into. He exudes an aurora of unearned pride and pomposity, even if the situation does not warrant such a display. Even his body posture during daily conversations betrays his arrogance; his arms are usually crossed, and he only makes eye contact sparingly and usually only to display dominance. He is fond of overexaggerated displays of impatience such as rolling his eyes or audibly sighing. His visage is usually plastered with a look of smug assurance or haughty boredom; the type of looks that are highly irritating to most people. Prolonged exposure to extreme annoyance causes him involuntary facial tics. Despite his love of theatrics and the spotlight sometimes Kav needs to exert power in an interaction subtly; he does so by speaking slowly and deliberately, slowing down the pace of the interaction by making others wait for him to respond thereby giving his words more perceived importance. Kav has an androgynous appearance but leans towards the feminine side of the spectrum adorning his visage with luxurious makeup and clothing his body in lavish outfits. For Kav possessing an impressive wardrobe is one of the important functions of life. He loves making an entrance and luxurious attire are a part of that. His personal assortment of clothing only includes pieces from the World’s foremost fashion designers. The only thing he hates more than wearing the same item twice in a row is wearing the same thing as somebody else, he is known to pay designers heftily for one-a-kind outfits. His fashion sense to average person would come off as exorbitantly priced and needlessly flamboyant. He has an unnatural beauty that draws people to him like proverbial moths to the flame and similar to fire there is a high probability that one is going to get burned if one dare to get too close.

Personality: Kav lives a lavish lifestyle and isn’t afraid to flaunt it; humility and humbleness are virtues unknown to him. He certainly likes to believe he is the center of the universe. People (supernatural and human alike) in general are disposable to Kav, even those he is initially attracted to. There exists plenty of spurned lovers and friends whom he rid himself of when the initial thrill of the relationship subsided. Being as narcissistic and self-centered as he is, he is intrinsically afraid of failure and cannot accept even the slightest piece of constructive criticism.; he exclusively surrounds himself with flatterers and bootlickers in order to never be challenged. If he happens to not get his way, is upstaged, or loses he is prone to throw a tantrum. He has a reputation in the circles he travels in of being a selfish braggart, only concerned about himself. Being half-human and half-fae Kav never truly felt a true sense of belonging contributing to his self-centered and delinquent behavior.

History: Kav was born in 1991 around nine months after his mother Rakel Vilhjálmsson and her extended family fled the instability of Yugoslavia for the United States. The family eventual settled in a in a trailer park in Hinton a small town in West Virginia, where they attempted to integrate with the local culture. Though his mother spoke of him often enough, Kav never actually met his absentee father and is unsure if the man managed to weather the chaos that engulfed the Balkans at the time. He has never felt compelled to search for the individual purported to his father, deep down could not handle seeing this Vanja Janković character surrounded by a loving family, giving them the life that should have been reserved for him. For the three long years Kav’s mother held the naïve hope Vanja would arrive out of the blue and reunite the shattered household, but his father never waltzed in the door and lifted them out of the abject poverty they found themselves in as refugees living in a post-communist world. The real world was filled with storybook endings. At seventeen his mother had a carefree and untamed spirt that was not suited for the struggles of motherhood juxtaposed with those responsibilities that came with gainful employment. Much to the chagrin of her parents she refused to repress the wanderlust that is common amongst the Fae and conform to societal norms. Kav was four years old when his mother entered a rusted Volkswagen Microbus with some long-haired friends of Christ and departed Hinton bound for parts unknown; she would sporadically reenter his life throughout the years, though only for a few weeks at most before she would be off chasing some new obsession or passion. Last he heard she was living in some progressive commune located in the Missouri Ozarks.

After his mother absconded with the Jesus freaks, Kav was left to be raised by his assortment of relatives that made the journey to America. The lot of them were as glum as they were proud, in private away from prying human ears the family was in grieving over their loss of status throughout the centuries. His family once occupied a relatively lofty station in the Elvish Principality of Aedirus, which was a quasi-state that governed over all supernatural entities that inhabited Scandinavia from the end of the Wild Hunt to its eventual dissolution during the German invasion of Denmark and the subsequent invasion of Norway in 1940. The regime was recognized by the majority of those non-humans that inhabited the region and it passed laws governing the conduct of its denizens. Some supernatural states do exist in the modern age, but they act in a much-diminished capacity than in their heyday and many are nothing more than fraternal orders or guilds at this point; the reason for the decline in these entities stems from the fact that decentralization is advantageous to those wishing to remain hidden. Internal friction between factions in the Royal Court contributed to the collapse of Principality of Aedirus as did indecisiveness over whether it was advantageous to maintain a policy neutral regarding the warring human factions. The Royal Court narrowly adopted a wait and see policy, which ended in disastrous results. During the Soviet Invasion of Finland in 1939 the Court instructed those paranormals in the area to wait out the fighting and simply recognize the authority of whichever human faction seemed to be in control of the areas they lived in. This apolitical collaborationist approach indirectly cost the lives of hundreds if not thousands. When the German army invaded Demark and then Norway, which were considered the hub of the Principality the Court’s attempts to garner support against the Nazi invaders fell on the deaf ears of those in the provinces that felt betrayed by the earlier inaction of the regime. When the public loses faith in an institution it collapses and thus was the fate of Principality of Aedirus as even after the fighting ceased there were no real efforts from the scattered remnants to reestablish the dynasty.

The dual matriarchs of Vilhjálmsson the clan were Kav’s Aunts Annelise and Hulda; once Kav’s mother left for parts unknown they were left in charge of raising him. They attempted to install in the youth their unique views on the world and how it was improper for alleged royalty to mingle with those brutish humans for more time than was absolutely necessary; humans were disposable tools in the hands of the Fae afterall. They fostered the youth’s sense of superiority by rewarding his snooty, arrogant, cruel, vengeful, and vindictive behavior towards others. Though his Aunts were quick to remind him of his own inferiorities as he was in fact part human himself. While, Annelise and Hulda thrived in the small town atmosphere and enjoyed playing off the trashy local gossip, Kav always longed for the glitz and glamour that his aunts ensured him once existed outside the confines of the trailer park for those of Fae heritage even for halfbreeds such as him self.

After graduating high school, he boarded a Greyhound bound for Los Angeles where he was determined to re-brand himself and enjoy all the accouterments this life had to offer. Nowadays he’s more or less an almost Warholian figure of a public repute, what the youth call an influencer. He ruthlessly fought for his position for at the top and crushed a good many people under his bedazzled heels, while he indeed enjoys his life of privilege he is always on the lookout for potential competition to snuff out before the become a threat. He is the self-appointed Duke of the Upper-Krust a collection of obnoxious internet personalities that thrive on showing off their opulence to the masses. He is always on the verge of being cancelled but seems to manage to mysteriously weasel his way out of any real consequences. He spends most of his days in an expensive penthouse in Gravette with the other members of the Upper-Krust and other toadies who cater to his every whim. It is a fitting start to an entirety of pleasure, what could possibly go wrong?

Strengths:

Wealth – Large monetary holdings have always been an unspoken superpower in capitalist society since its inception. Despite his outward persona of recklessness, Kav is covertly preparing for an entirety of living so he has the best numbers people that he can charm crafting a suitable safety net for himself.

Celebrity – To be famous even internet famous is a gateway to numerous perks within society, most people are willing give the famous more leeway than your average joe. You ever whim is catered to by an ever-revolving door of sycophants and flatterers. Everyone wants you and everyone wants to be you. Granted you live your life under a microscope of scrutiny controlled by the whims of the fickle masses, but as a star you are admired even if it is only fleeting.

Trilingual – He can speak English, Romani, and a Fae Dialect that was indigenous to the Principality of Aedirus
Strong-Willed – This is something Kav apparently inherited from his deadbeat father as the man apparently had a reputation of being stubborn. Kav has yet to come across the man, so this factoid is unverified for the moment. If Kav really desires something he can usually grit his teeth and put his massive ego aside in order to achieve it.

Weaknesses: When it comes down to it he is a half-human and he is vulnerable to most physical weakness that plague humankind in general; a well-placed volley of bullets will outright kill him. As a half-Fae his natural regeneration of wounds and scars occurs at a much slower rate, though he does retain the benefit remaining eternally young. Kav is not physically imposing even by human standards, if forced into a fair confrontation with an opponent he would more than likely lose; his reliance on subterfuge, cheating, and counting on others doing the brunt of the heavy lifting are all variables open for exploitation. Like all narcissists Kav is intrinsically a coward when it comes down to it, if the odds are too stacked against him he will not think twice about cutting his losses and retreating. Like most Fae he has a true name and possessing this information would give you leverage over Kav.

Stance: Inactive. He cares little about the supernatural community and their problems as a secret society is not charity single material after all. Where were they all his life? Hmm? He made it, he is untouchable at the moment and that is all that matters. Privilege has isolated him from the suffering of others, and he is more than content not to change that. Outside of occasionally having to interact with those Fae directly related to him, he actively avoids seeking out those of non-human origins. He is more than happy to masquerade as a clueless human if it directly benefits him.

Special Power/Skill: Like the majority of Fae, Kav also heavily relies on Glamours. His particular brand of Glamours have to do with illusions especially illusions concerning his appearance. With enough effort Kav can alter his appearance to look like any humanoid creature that he has personally seen with his own eyes. As with any performance the more he studied the target he is impersonating the more convincing he can make the illusion; with time he can mimic vocal patterns and the gait of a particular person. Like most glamours, they are not intended to hold up to intense scrutiny; certain factors can strengthen or weaken the glamor like whether Kav knows the true name of those people he intends to fool for example. When “acting” has to be careful about exposing contradictions between his performance and what information his mark already has about the person he portraying; if the mark knowns that the person he is depicting is meek, acting confident would only serve to weaken the Glamour. Kav despises having to portray others and would only do so to produce sufficient black mail material on someone. He mainly uses his Glamours to bolster his already immaculate appearance.

Other : He suffers from acrophobia (fear of heights).

Kav's Pin Board: pin.it/2N4EKdH

Prey Tell (Or Keep It To Yourself){Accepting Players!}

Another Character Perhaps?

Kav Vilhjálmsson

Name: Kav Vilhjálmsson

Faceclaim

Age: 29, though he appears to be in his early twenties.

Supernatural Race: Fae

Ethnicity/Race: Romani/Bosinian

Supernatural Tattoo: Located on His Inner Left Wrist

Appearance: Standing at 5’10” Kav has a slender build. Kav carries himself like royalty with an air of pretentiousness; he acts like he owns everything and everyone in any room he happens to walk into. He exudes an aurora of unearned pride and pomposity, even if the situation does not warrant such a display. Even his body posture during daily conversations betrays his arrogance; his arms are usually crossed, and he only makes eye contact sparingly and usually only to display dominance. He is fond of overexaggerated displays of impatience such as rolling his eyes or audibly sighing. His visage is usually plastered with a look of smug assurance or haughty boredom; the type of looks that are highly irritating to most people. Prolonged exposure to extreme annoyance causes him involuntary facial tics. Despite his love of theatrics and the spotlight sometimes Kav needs to exert power in an interaction subtly; he does so by speaking slowly and deliberately, slowing down the pace of the interaction by making others wait for him to respond thereby giving his words more perceived importance. Kav has an androgynous appearance but leans towards the feminine side of the spectrum adorning his visage with luxurious makeup and clothing his body in lavish outfits. For Kav possessing an impressive wardrobe is one of the important functions of life. He loves making an entrance and luxurious attire are a part of that. His personal assortment of clothing only includes pieces from the World’s foremost fashion designers. The only thing he hates more than wearing the same item twice in a row is wearing the same thing as somebody else, he is known to pay designers heftily for one-a-kind outfits. His fashion sense to average person would come off as exorbitantly priced and needlessly flamboyant. He has an unnatural beauty that draws people to him like proverbial moths to the flame and similar to fire there is a high probability that one is going to get burned if one dare to get too close.

Personality: Kav lives a lavish lifestyle and isn’t afraid to flaunt it; humility and humbleness are virtues unknown to him. He certainly likes to believe he is the center of the universe. People (supernatural and human alike) in general are disposable to Kav, even those he is initially attracted to. There exists plenty of spurned lovers and friends whom he rid himself of when the initial thrill of the relationship subsided. Being as narcissistic and self-centered as he is, he is intrinsically afraid of failure and cannot accept even the slightest piece of constructive criticism.; he exclusively surrounds himself with flatterers and bootlickers in order to never be challenged. If he happens to not get his way, is upstaged, or loses he is prone to throw a tantrum. He has a reputation in the circles he travels in of being a selfish braggart, only concerned about himself. Being half-human and half-fae Kav never truly felt a true sense of belonging contributing to his self-centered and delinquent behavior.

History: Kav was born in 1991 around nine months after his mother Rakel Vilhjálmsson and her extended family fled the instability of Yugoslavia for the United States. The family eventual settled in a in a trailer park in Hinton a small town in West Virginia, where they attempted to integrate with the local culture. Though his mother spoke of him often enough, Kav never actually met his absentee father and is unsure if the man managed to weather the chaos that engulfed the Balkans at the time. He has never felt compelled to search for the individual purported to his father, deep down could not handle seeing this Vanja Janković character surrounded by a loving family, giving them the life that should have been reserved for him. For the three long years Kav’s mother held the naïve hope Vanja would arrive out of the blue and reunite the shattered household, but his father never waltzed in the door and lifted them out of the abject poverty they found themselves in as refugees living in a post-communist world. The real world was filled with storybook endings. At seventeen his mother had a carefree and untamed spirt that was not suited for the struggles of motherhood juxtaposed with those responsibilities that came with gainful employment. Much to the chagrin of her parents she refused to repress the wanderlust that is common amongst the Fae and conform to societal norms. Kav was four years old when his mother entered a rusted Volkswagen Microbus with some long-haired friends of Christ and departed Hinton bound for parts unknown; she would sporadically reenter his life throughout the years, though only for a few weeks at most before she would be off chasing some new obsession or passion. Last he heard she was living in some progressive commune located in the Missouri Ozarks.

After his mother absconded with the Jesus freaks, Kav was left to be raised by his assortment of relatives that made the journey to America. The lot of them were as glum as they were proud, in private away from prying human ears the family was in grieving over their loss of status throughout the centuries. His family once occupied a relatively lofty station in the Elvish Principality of Aedirus, which was a quasi-state that governed over all supernatural entities that inhabited Scandinavia from the end of the Wild Hunt to its eventual dissolution during the German invasion of Denmark and the subsequent invasion of Norway in 1940. The regime was recognized by the majority of those non-humans that inhabited the region and it passed laws governing the conduct of its denizens. Some supernatural states do exist in the modern age, but they act in a much-diminished capacity than in their heyday and many are nothing more than fraternal orders or guilds at this point; the reason for the decline in these entities stems from the fact that decentralization is advantageous to those wishing to remain hidden. Internal friction between factions in the Royal Court contributed to the collapse of Principality of Aedirus as did indecisiveness over whether it was advantageous to maintain a policy neutral regarding the warring human factions. The Royal Court narrowly adopted a wait and see policy, which ended in disastrous results. During the Soviet Invasion of Finland in 1939 the Court instructed those paranormals in the area to wait out the fighting and simply recognize the authority of whichever human faction seemed to be in control of the areas they lived in. This apolitical collaborationist approach indirectly cost the lives of hundreds if not thousands. When the German army invaded Demark and then Norway, which were considered the hub of the Principality the Court’s attempts to garner support against the Nazi invaders fell on the deaf ears of those in the provinces that felt betrayed by the earlier inaction of the regime. When the public loses faith in an institution it collapses and thus was the fate of Principality of Aedirus as even after the fighting ceased there were no real efforts from the scattered remnants to reestablish the dynasty.

The dual matriarchs of Vilhjálmsson the clan were Kav’s Aunts Annelise and Hulda; once Kav’s mother left for parts unknown they were left in charge of raising him. They attempted to install in the youth their unique views on the world and how it was improper for alleged royalty to mingle with those brutish humans for more time than was absolutely necessary; humans were disposable tools in the hands of the Fae afterall. They fostered the youth’s sense of superiority by rewarding his snooty, arrogant, cruel, vengeful, and vindictive behavior towards others. Though his Aunts were quick to remind him of his own inferiorities as he was in fact part human himself. While, Annelise and Hulda thrived in the small town atmosphere and enjoyed playing off the trashy local gossip, Kav always longed for the glitz and glamour that his aunts ensured him once existed outside the confines of the trailer park for those of Fae heritage even for halfbreeds such as him self.

After graduating high school, he boarded a Greyhound bound for Los Angeles where he was determined to re-brand himself and enjoy all the accouterments this life had to offer. Nowadays he’s more or less an almost Warholian figure of a public repute, what the youth call an influencer. He ruthlessly fought for his position for at the top and crushed a good many people under his bedazzled heels, while he indeed enjoys his life of privilege he is always on the lookout for potential competition to snuff out before the become a threat. He is the self-appointed Duke of the Upper-Krust a collection of obnoxious internet personalities that thrive on showing off their opulence to the masses. He is always on the verge of being cancelled but seems to manage to mysteriously weasel his way out of any real consequences. He spends most of his days in an expensive penthouse in Gravette with the other members of the Upper-Krust and other toadies who cater to his every whim. It is a fitting start to an entirety of pleasure, what could possibly go wrong?

Strengths:

Wealth – Large monetary holdings have always been an unspoken superpower in capitalist society since its inception. Despite his outward persona of recklessness, Kav is covertly preparing for an entirety of living so he has the best numbers people that he can charm crafting a suitable safety net for himself.

Celebrity – To be famous even internet famous is a gateway to numerous perks within society, most people are willing give the famous more leeway than your average joe. You ever whim is catered to by an ever-revolving door of sycophants and flatterers. Everyone wants you and everyone wants to be you. Granted you live your life under a microscope of scrutiny controlled by the whims of the fickle masses, but as a star you are admired even if it is only fleeting.

Trilingual – He can speak English, Romani, and a Fae Dialect that was indigenous to the Principality of Aedirus
Strong-Willed – This is something Kav apparently inherited from his deadbeat father as the man apparently had a reputation of being stubborn. Kav has yet to come across the man, so this factoid is unverified for the moment. If Kav really desires something he can usually grit his teeth and put his massive ego aside in order to achieve it.

Weaknesses: When it comes down to it he is a half-human and he is vulnerable to most physical weakness that plague humankind in general; a well-placed volley of bullets will outright kill him. As a half-Fae his natural regeneration of wounds and scars occurs at a much slower rate, though he does retain the benefit remaining eternally young. Kav is not physically imposing even by human standards, if forced into a fair confrontation with an opponent he would more than likely lose; his reliance on subterfuge, cheating, and counting on others doing the brunt of the heavy lifting are all variables open for exploitation. Like all narcissists Kav is intrinsically a coward when it comes down to it, if the odds are too stacked against him he will not think twice about cutting his losses and retreating. Like most Fae he has a true name and possessing this information would give you leverage over Kav.

Stance: Inactive. He cares little about the supernatural community and their problems as a secret society is not charity single material after all. Where were they all his life? Hmm? He made it, he is untouchable at the moment and that is all that matters. Privilege has isolated him from the suffering of others, and he is more than content not to change that. Outside of occasionally having to interact with those Fae directly related to him, he actively avoids seeking out those of non-human origins. He is more than happy to masquerade as a clueless human if it directly benefits him.

Special Power/Skill: Like the majority of Fae, Kav also heavily relies on Glamours. His particular brand of Glamours have to do with illusions especially illusions concerning his appearance. With enough effort Kav can alter his appearance to look like any humanoid creature that he has personally seen with his own eyes. As with any performance the more he studied the target he is impersonating the more convincing he can make the illusion; with time he can mimic vocal patterns and the gait of a particular person. Like most glamours, they are not intended to hold up to intense scrutiny; certain factors can strengthen or weaken the glamor like whether Kav knows the true name of those people he intends to fool for example. When “acting” has to be careful about exposing contradictions between his performance and what information his mark already has about the person he portraying; if the mark knowns that the person he is depicting is meek, acting confident would only serve to weaken the Glamour. Kav despises having to portray others and would only do so to produce sufficient black mail material on someone. He mainly uses his Glamours to bolster his already immaculate appearance.

Other : He suffers from acrophobia (fear of heights).

Prey Tell (Or Keep It To Yourself){Accepting Players!}

His interest was indeed piqued by this spectacle unfolding in front of him, it was a quite unlike anything Vanja had come across in his many years as a mercenary traversing the far corners of the globe. It was rather obvious that this youth was not a vampire, he seemed to be a unique breed of supernatural one that was not even spoken about it whispers. It clearly a tremendous outpouring of power and would have made other men of lesser resolve regret their live choices as they beat a hasty retreat, but Vanja was not one to be easily intimidated or impressed. He maintained his composure as this was clearly not the first time he was threatened in his life. His smirk is slowly replaced by a scowl as the arrogance and self-aggrandizing of this whelp was grating to say the least; the impudence of youth was something he found he had little tolerance for.

Vanja sneers, “Well, well, well seems like I might have touched a nerve by not directing my comments towards yourself; exclusion can certainly be an affront to one’s ego especially to those that feel the inherent need to insert themselves into other’s conversations. Regardless you have indeed garnered my attention dear child. The grandstanding was perhaps unnecessary, unless you were attempting to out yourself to me than hearty congratulations are in order because you succeeded on that front. By your condescending demeanor I take it you are some sort of big deal around these parts, as you undoubtedly see yourself something special. I never met one of your kind that did not think that they were in some form the embodiment of the second-coming or some untouchable deity, but I am open to the possibility that some non-human entity out their can possess a modicum of humility. For some reason it seems like you are not confident in your friend’s ability to articulate a response on her own. You know if you let your subordinates hide behind you pathetically clinging to your pant leg like frightened youngsters, they will never learn to function properly on their own. Though, it is always handy to have bullet sponges around. However, I must digress.

It hardly pays to possess prejudices in my line of work boy; it might come to a surprise to you, but I am not beholden to the zealotry, political commitments, sectarianism, identitarian leanings, or dogmatism that blinds those that claim to crusade against you and your kind; they are under the impression that they have a moral obligation to protect the human race and the world from some manner of corruption or some such nonsense, while I hold no such beliefs as this mudball we all call home has always been contaminated and is honestly beyond saving at this point. Morality and ethics are only self-serving platitudes after all, little white lies concocted by deluded minds hoping to construct a refuge from the guilt that burdens them. I tend to think of myself and in extension the work I am engaged in merely as the final consequences the current system we all inhabit has chosen to dole out against those both human and other that choose to make a show of avoiding the stumbling blocks set forth by said system; you can certainly choose to label me as evil…in fact many have over the years have used their final words to do just that, but I and those of my ilk are just an inevitability. This might come as a shock, but the system in its current state does not exist to serve you or even me; never has and it never will.

So, outside of satiating your fastidious pride and allowing you to personally to save face in front of those assembled by asserting your alleged moral superiority, what does this reckless little display of emotions prove? Hmm? Am I meant to be scared? In awe perhaps? Are you going to beat me to a pulp and hope I beg for forgiveness like a dog? Hmm? Killing me would be a sensible course of action, the cardinal rule is that violence begets violence and I have made peace that having lived by the sword I am destined to die by it. Have you? I am a disposable asset, strike me down and you will find that the system has a whole assortment of other ne’er do wells, savages, adventures, fugitives, and other hired guns from all over the world lined up to tread in my stead. The gaps that you are your kind have been forced to inhabit are slowly closing and you are going have to eventually lose your lofty idealism should you wish to survive the transition. The world is going to break you one way or another if it has not already. Heroes only exist in fantasy kid. Though a lot of unanswered variables are hanging in the air at this moment, a whole slew of possibilities that have seemingly been unaccounted for, killing me would hardly solve them.”

Vanja slowly brings his hands back from behind his back palms forward indicating that he was indeed unarmed. Before he once again launch into another tirade the dazzling man moved closer yet again inserting himself into the fray. An intriguing turn of events. He gritted his teeth as for another round he attempted to resist the pull on his mind. He turned his attention to the man not entirely of his own accord and listened with a slight degree of enrapturement.

“You know for one so flippant you seem to be awfully interested in me and my current predicament. Sure, we haven’t before met Simon. Did you……Do you know…her? The one...who...”

He trailed off as his throbbing head finally found some measure of relief as he was enveloped by darkness, it seemed prolonged resistance had a price after all Shuddering with absolute exhaustion and released tension, he collapsed in a heap in the alleyway now oblivious to the world around him; knocked unconscious for the time being.

Gender Transformation Roleplay

Sent a pm.

Prey Tell (Or Keep It To Yourself){Accepting Players!}

Vanja pursed his lips and took another drag from the cigarette. It seemed a new face entered the fray from seemingly out of nowhere. And here he was, surprised for a second time today; being caught unaware was becoming a common occurrence and he did not like it, not one little bit. This pale skinned newcomer looked like she should be hosting a z-grade horror movie marathon on some public access channel right about now, but here she was at this particular bar, at this exact time of day, making excuses for someone that Vanja was relatively sure was in fact a vampire; suspicious to say the least. From the puzzled expression that briefly crossed the tomboy’s face and the raised eyebrow it seemed that she did not know her would-be savior or she was pretending not to. At least to him the lack of subtlety practiced in this city was rather egregious. He could not help but watch the duo of the possible card cheat and the woman who was built like one of crazy Hoxha’s concrete bunkers move into the bar. She seemed to be extending her protection to the mouthy brat as well. Intriguing. As the lost member of The Addams Family also moved into the bar the possible mountebank made a show of stumbling. If this was a ruse Vanja would have to give the charlatan props for his commitment on portraying weakness to others.

Despite his interaction with Simon, Vanja still could not get a solid lead on the man. Perhaps he did not want to analyze this man? Perhaps he wanted the man to fool him? Perhaps something was stopping him from suspecting the man of possessing ulterior motives? Before he could continue down this line of thinking he remembered how his hand felt warm after shaking Simon’s hand, it certainly was nice. The resplendent looking man with the impeccable fashion sensed moved closer and for the briefest of seconds Vanja felt his body ceding control once again. He struggled against the urge to comply with Simon’s sweetly veiled commands. It almost felt like if he had a drink with the man all the contradictions he was currently experiencing would cease to exit. He was well aware that some cages only existed solely in the mind and they were often the most escape-proof traps. If he acquiesced, he was certain he would be imprisoned by the stranger and would be completely at his mercy. His head throbbed, and his heart once again beat rapidly, as if it were threatening to jump out of his chest. A jumble of pleasing memories were dredged to the forefront of his consciousness as his surroundings became clouded. He was about to begin to head into the bar proper when a stray thought loosened the proverbial vicegrip around his mind. As he felt the urge to follow the man into the bar rise up again, he exerted control over his body once more and adjusted his stance. He longed to hold the talisman he was gifted all those years ago in his hands, but was wary to revel a possible weakness in front of someone who could so easily penetrate his mental defenses.

He remembered watching in between ceaseless showings of nationalist propaganda and newsreels an animated movie from the west as a child; being Yugoslavia the film was heavily butchered by the Party censors, but still made a certain amount of sense at least to a youthful mind that was less concerned about plot cohesion and consistent characterization. He recalled there being an egotistical fox, a rascally rabbit, and a briar patch. He recalled that the rabbit in question used psychological manipulation to ensure the haughty fox threw him into a briar patch, where the nibble rabbit was able to make his escape unperturbed by the barbs unlike the fox. A very relevant parable to remember at this moment indeed.

Interesting how all the people, and he used the term loosely, he suspected of non-human origins seemed to have congregated inside the bar and were all too happy to invite him inside for a drink. Well played. Well played indeed. He never underestimated the ingenuity of those that were opposed to him like some of his colleagues were apt to do. He was the fox outside of the thicket right now, but unlike the animal from that old cartoon he felt he did not have the choice of not entering the thicket. Chances of him being pursued if he excused himself from this encounter were extremely high. Despite his own physical prowess, he was sure that if they desired to, they would be able to catch him with relative ease. Something told him that the gym-rat bodyguard never skipped cardio day and despite the fact that he was armed he doubted the few shots he would be able to fire off from the gun hidden in his jacket before she was on top of him would do much, other than further fueling her rage; he did not want to waste silver bullets on her on the off chance that she was immune from their effects. Older Vampires were also not something to mess around with in Minsk he saw on leap into the air and bring down a Soko G-4 Super Galeb attack aircraft. Powerful stuff. Younger inexperienced brood on the other hand. They were apt to be sloppy. He took a final drag on his cigarette before grinding it under his loafer. He stopped himself from bending down, retrieving the spent cigarette off the ground, and depositing in his pocket. While, it was best not to leave too much DNA evidence lying around, to pocket the butt would be a rather odd behavior to display in front of a rather suspicious crowd of onlookers. He chided himself for taking the smoke in the first place.

Behind his sunglasses he eyed the muscular bodybuilder and the surprisingly pale woman enticing the immature woman further into the establishment. He removed his glasses and attempted to lock eyes with Bonnie before she could be escorted away, his gaze was cold and piercing. She seemed to be the weakest link in the chain composure-wise, and he wanted to exert a little pressure on her before her departure into the unknown depths of the establishment. He wanted the little rabbit to act on her emotions and leave the safety of the underbrush. It was not an easy task as he felt mental pressure to stare into the eyes of Simon that handsome devil, if he did just that, he felt he would be lost in those eyes in more ways than one. He felt his head uncomfortably pulsate once again.

He smirks at the mouthy girl as he causally clasps his hands behind his back. “Cocky yet condescending, what an unfortunate symptom of youth. I am not particularly surprised because frankly when it comes down to it reprobates like you are all the same; you all think you are so special. Therefore, you delude yourselves into thinking that you will never get caught. You might believe you are all invincible and unbeatable, but your confidence is severely misplaced. You can play the idiot in front of these people all you want, but it does not fool me girl. Not for a singular second. As I know what you have been doing child. Your actions as of late are plastered across the faded posters that blanket every crevasse of the city like a perverse sheet of snow reminding all citizens of the coldness that lurks in the heart of one aberration…an outlier. Someone who exists on the fringe of a society they cannot belong to, prevented so by their recalcitrant attitude and anti-social urges. Where does one draw the line between self-preservation and satisfying the cravings of twisted mind? Hmm? Go ahead use the washroom to rid your shirt of the dirt was it? Or were you going to lick your wounds from the bar brawl? Or tend to your injuries from picking up shards of glass? Funny the card playing aficionados I came across never mentioned seeing you? Odd. Regardless, I wonder while you are freshening up per say could you perhaps see if you could cleanse the stains on your soul…the ones that go deeper than surface level? Should you still possess a soul that is. I am sure you have a ready stock of justifications and convenient excuses for your actions towards those you wronged, perhaps you even believe them to a certain extent. Ignorance even feigned ignorance can be blissful. It can even alleviate a guilty conscious or so I have been told. Enlighten me, did you clue those unfortunate to cross your path of their ultimate destiny or did you relish in the surprised expressions that overtook their faces when they finally realized what you truly were? Did you wet your face with artificial tears afterwards? Or were they like defenseless lambs lead to the slaughter by one who is no longer emotionally phased by their own capacity for violence? Feel free to deny the truth and raise your defenses, but we both know what you are behind the carefully crafted mask that you adorn. Others might provide you with the excuses you need to maintain your façade, but we are both very aware of what happened. You and me.”

Despite the rather casual look of his posture, Vanja had a reason to lower his hands behind his back. In this rather relaxed stance, his left hand was now well within reach to the sliver knife he had concealed in his back pocket and he was ready to deploy it should the need arise. He fully expected the impudent brat to make a move on him. In fact he was counting on it. He takes a step forward with hands still behind his back but does not cross the threshold into the bar proper. One observing could reasonably deduce that he is avoiding doing so for the time being.

Prey Tell (Or Keep It To Yourself){Accepting Players!}

Vanja raised an eyebrow as Chasa put herself between him and the dark-haired young man. What was their relationship? Was she some sort of a bodyguard? An older sister perhaps? She certainly had an impressive physique for a woman, in fact up close she was better built than most men he had served with in the field. She even seemed to put his own personal trainers to shame and they were some of the best money could procure. It seemed like Gravette is where the Statsi dumped the East German Women Athletes after the Berlin Wall came down. Though, the woman did not appear to be suffering the side-effects that came with ingesting a cocktail of steroids on a daily basis. In sharp contrast to a genetic freak, the woman’s body seemed to have been carved from granite by some long-forgotten master; every muscle flowed seamlessly into the next and no area was dominant over the other. She was not your average fitness junkie to say the least; Vanja had a suspicion she was not human in the slightest. In a test of brute force this creature would undoubtedly be the victor, there was no doubt about this and if she had the chance, she could probably crush his head with relative ease. It would be foolish to engage her at close range, suppressive fire from a distance would be a preferable alternative if one did not want to needlessly commit suicide. He wondered if she was a killer; there was a stark difference between being able to take a life and doing so. Through his dark sunglasses he briefly studied her rather stoic expression. All it took to collapse a mighty dam was a single crack after all. The primary difference between someone like him and her was that she still had attachments; the way she moved to intercept him proved that she had more than a just working attachment to the whelp. Was this her crack?

He snapped out of his current train of thought and turned his attention further down the sidewalk heading away from the bar, to find much to his surprise nothing…absolutely nothing. Well, that was not entirely true he felt and odd sensation when he fixated his piercing gaze upon the shadows cast by the buildings. It was hard to articulate, but it was almost like the abyss was leering at him. He learned it was best in his line of work to listen to the strange feelings that one occasionally experienced; a healthy dose of paranoia went a long way. Adherence to one’s instincts usually meant the difference between life and death especially when there were supernatural beings possibly involved. He lowered his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose and stared back at the chasm of darkness pondering what it made of him. He wondered if it felt fear as it looked back upon his visage or perhaps it felt a tinge of understanding. Regardless, he would be on alert should he choose to head in that direction.

He returned his glasses to their proper resting place as the young man finished his conversation with the beanie wearing girl. She seemed to be positively brimming in the afterglow of whatever happened at the establishment before his arrival; it could be that she was drawn to chaos. He internally mused if the man was actually in need of the cane or if it was a prop to get one to lower their guard around him; perhaps it was a little of both. Clever façade boy. Much like his muscular companion subtle hints in his body language suggested that he too was on edge. Nothing was inherently was incriminating about this, distrust in others was a natural defensive mechanism. He presumed that the altercation with the group of ruffians he encountered could have something to do with their suspicions towards him, but in his experiences those of the paranormal bent seemed to be wary in general towards humans. Rightfully so. He still did not have an official target, but it would not surprise him if it were one of those congregated here today.

“A few blocks back a group of wayward gentlemen gamblers highly recommend this establishment. They just could not stop talking about this place and its patrons in very colorful language it if my memory serves me correct. Figured that if it left such an impression on them, being I figured I just had to check it out myself. Shame about the window, but I am sure that it is an occupational hazard in this line of work. I am sure this establishment has quite the storied history. Drinks, well if you are offering I woul…” The remainder of his sentence died in his throat as Simon interrupted.

Vanja was caught off guard by the sudden interjection, which was quite unlike himself. He was normally a master of his surroundings especially in this type of environment. There should have been no way the man should have approached him without him being aware of his presence. He felt his heart begin to race. Upon closer inspection the man in question seemed to be a quite the fastidious dresser, his choice in colors served to compliment his flawless skin and dyed blonde hair. It seemed that light itself bent to his will shining through his androgynous form like it was comprised of stained glass. He appeared to be a man who is as ruthless as he is gorgeous and as tender as he is cruel. As he continued to observe the beautiful man he felt his well-founded suspicions and defenses begin to erode. For a fleeting moment he thought if he opened himself up to the man, he would provide him with the nurture, guidance, and understanding that he craved. It would be too easy to give into these urges and cede control to someone else. Ever since he made the choice to leave Rakel he attempted to fill the ensuing hole in his heart with a plethora of different remedies. Homosexual attraction was not something new to him, there was Venice after all. From November 1999 to January 1, 2000 he managed to find love amongst the canals; the end of the world was supposedly fast approaching, and he decided to take a holiday in Venice after a particularly taxing mission abroad. There he met the bookish Claudio and they begin a passionate love affair. He was ready to throw it all away…quite literally as he planned on throwing the talisman into a canal because as far as he was concerned his secret search for Rakel and in extension his life as a mercenary was over. He found a chance to rekindle his happiness. However, the old adage of trying to get out only to get pulled back in again remained true. While, the world did not end in the year 2000 any chance of him escaping this existence did. When he returned to the shared apartment only to find Roger Bonheur sitting on the steps outside, he knew what transpired. He did not need to see what happened to Claudio as the implication was clear enough. No attachments, No quitting. Once he figured out how to find Rakel, he would tender his resonation with Bonheur in a manner of speaking. He had a special bullet set aside for such an occasion.

A sharp, intense pain pulsated across his brain as he managed to break whatever hold real or imagined he was under for the last few moments. He felt the metallic taste of blood fill his mouth; he must have bit his tongue. He internally chided himself on his foolishness. How could he let his guard down? This was definitely a hotbed for freaks alright. He wordlessly accepted the cigarette the man offered. He felt his cheeks redden. It took all his willpower to look the man in his face without indulging in the throngs of fantasy yet again. He felt sickened in himself, he never let himself become shaken by a potential adversary. There was something about the man that reminded him of Rakel, he seemed also to possess the same inexplicable charisma. He places the cigarette in mouth and pulls a box of matches from his breast pocket. The fact that his father worked in a match factory might have contributed to his aversion to lighters. Striking a match, he lights his cigarette and greedily draws in smoke. The thought crossed his mind that the cigarette could be poisoned, but that would be sloppy. A good assassin would attempt to blend their killings with the others occurring in the city, it was a golden opportunity for that sort of thing. A poisoning on the other hand would draw undue attention.

“Josip. Josip Dragnov. Mergers and acquisitions specialist for Apex Capital Management. New York Branch. It is certainly a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Vanja said as he extended his hand.

“Figured that there was some type of altercation. Now that you mention it those bruisers did look a little roughed up. Classic Gravette, some folks are always starting something over nothing. No offense, you do not look like you are from around here Simon. You do not seem like type who is suffering in quiet desperation yearning to be free. In fact, there is something familiar about you. I would posit that you worked for Apex in some capacity, but that does not seem right. Perhaps, I met some relative of yours? Small world.”

Vanja took another satisfying drag on the cigarette before Bo interjected herself into the conversation. Vanja sighed at the impatience of youth as he felt his head begin to pulsate once again. Despite her shoddy attire he could not help noticing that the cuffs of her sweatshirt were stained what appeared to be blood. He was almost certain that it was fresh blood. Now this was certainly intriguing. He once again let a mirthless smile envelope his face.

“Tsk, Tsk. A little foolhardy to wear your misdeeds on your sleeves like you do. Though are you the type that likes to project their naughtiness to the world? Remnants from the fight perhaps? Hmm?”

Prey Tell (Or Keep It To Yourself){Accepting Players!}

Vanja walked at a brisk pace, covertly watching those he passed behind his dark sunglasses. He closely studied their movements and their body language, looking for the slightest clues that they were in fact something other than human. The few people he passed seemed normal enough, but it seemed these creatures have adapted to human society to some degree. Despite no official word from Bonheur yet, he presumed that he and his cohorts would be gallivanting after boogeymen yet again; it seemed like whatever shadowy organization that was in cahoots with Bonheur was not taking any chances. If Alberts was to be trusted, “the gang was all going to be here.” That was too many guns to waste on any human target in this particular city as despite being situated in what was perceived as the first-world Gravette was not home to many high value targets. Bonheur only lent out the heavy hitters in his Rolodex of mercenaries sparingly and that some group was willing to foot the bill for all the A-Listers to be here was rather unprecedented and equally suspicious. Running operations in North America was filled with its own unique risks and the possibilities for failure ran high, Bonheur must have been presented with an offer he couldn’t refuse. There was a distinct possibility that the team was being assembled to take the fall for some actual “Hunters” who were in over their heads. This would not be the first time or the last time one of those groups tried to implement a double-cross. Vanja scoffed as he remembered the gruesome fate the last group that tried to cross Bonheur endured; Reverend Milton and the Lighthouse of Awakening should have not hired mercenaries to deal with their vampire problem if they did not have the funds to pay them in this lifetime. Talks of eternal rewards were a non-starter with a pragmatist like Bonheur, what mattered was the here and the now. All that remains of the cult nowadays is a charred path of earth in Liberia and a mass grave to go along with it. Milton was in league with some proper “Hunters” who fought monsters for a chance to absolve their sins or some such nonsense, they attempted to protect him from Bonheur’s wrath, and they were unsuccessful to say the least.

Vanja presumed he never shook the state mandated atheism that he was taught in his boyhood as he never truly understood the motivations of those of the cloth; they seemed to needlessly sacrifice themselves for a deity that only seemed tangentially invested in their existence. Or perhaps his rejection of the faith of man cycled back to Her once again as most threads in his life did. He recalled Rakel telling him of her people’s beliefs on the unseen thread crafted by some long-forgotten goddess that unites the hearts of all conscious beings; despite their differences everything…everyone was intrinsically connected. It was something Vanja being in the line of work he was in did not like to ruminate on; her disappointment with what he has become in the intervening years frightened him more than any threat of eternal damnation in a pit of fire and brimstone.

Vanja did not imprint himself in the minds of the few people he passed on the streets, most did not even pay him the courtesy of a second glance in his direction. He looked like any other office dweller, his non-descript suit and impeccable grooming made it look like his natural habitat was behind a desk filing paperwork at a middling firm of some sort, few would guess at a glance what his real occupation was. He took a puff on his cigar and casually flicked the cigar ash on the sidewalk. Despite the early hours there were noticeably less people walking the streets than a similar sized metropolis, the increasing number of disappearances and murders were probably wrecking untold stress on the public psyche if the numerous missing person posters plastered in shop windows were to believed. Vanja studied a thick dossier of information on Gravette before arriving and factoring in the recent revelation that Alberts was here the town certainly had a sizeable vermin problem. Maybe an all-star team was not unwarranted after all.

Including himself and Alberts, Vanja figured there would be seven specialists in total here. The remaining five who have yet to arrive were practically a smorgasbord of human rights abusers and other assorted ne'er-do-wells; what concerned Vanja more than their crimes was the insurmountably of their combined egos. Dr. Laurissa Anderson is the resident medical practitioner who proudly served as a personal physician to a plethora of dictators and autocrats during her notorious career, while also overseeing horrifying medical experiments requested by those same men; in addition to her duties as a battlefield medic she serves the function of collecting and preserving specimens requested by the client. Günther von Braun the espionage specialist is the scion of a wealthy German family who received military academy training at the prestigious French Academy of St. Cyr; his wealthy upbringing did little to neuter his more base passions and he was the prime suspect in a series of brutal slayings that plagued campus before he disappeared from public life. Enrique Piñón, the heavy weapons and demolitions expert is supposedly serving a life sentence in the Carandiru Penitentiary in São Paulo, Brazil for his participation in three brutal heists of rather prestigious Brazilian banks; as long as the bribes keep on coming his continued incarceration in that facility is what is presented to the public. Nyambura Otieno, the masterclass driver is purported to have raced competitively in the unground circuit until she crashed in a high stake race Johannesburg and unfortunately compulsive gambling left her in a huge amount of debt to some shady people; she is unquestionably loyal to Bonheur for the opportunity to help ease the massive financial burden on herself. QU35710N (Question) is the hacker extraordinaire and despite the occupation does know how to carry himself in a firefight; nevertheless, he is more comfortable piloting his 3D printed drones outfitted with limited offensive capabilities from a secure location.

Vanja felt a headache coming as he imagined navigating the proverbial sea of egotism; this day was getting worse and worse with every passing second. Caught up in his own thoughts he barely managed to avoid running headlong into a few burly looking men nursing injuries of varying degrees of severity. Well, that certainly was not something you see every day, he mused. It was clear that those gentlemen were usually on the other side of dispensing violence. Vanja only managed to catch a brief snippet of their hushed conversation as the group hurried along, but through the vulgarities he deduced that they were cheated out of money by some kid and ran into some crazy strong broad. Intriguing, to say the least; could be worth pursuing Vanja thought to himself as he took an long puff from his cigar.

With the confrontation avoided he continued to walk with no real destination in mind; he was feeling out the city as he had a sinking feeling, he would be staying here for the foreseeable future. His mind drifted to Rakel as it normally did In ambient moments such as this. He mulled over the last thing she ever said to him, he could hear it as clear as the day she spoke to him.

“My little sparrow if you remember that I love you as you traverse through the peaks and valleys of life, I’ll know. When you gaze upon something of great beauty, I’ll see it too. When some joy fills you with boundless laughter, it is your voice I’ll hear. The barriers of distance and time are immaterial to us, we can never be fully separated. The great thread binds us all. Should you ever tire of this wild world all you have to do find me is to take this talisman in your hands and call out…”

As usual the final refrain never came; it seemed the years had robbed him of the most important part of her instructions to him. The words need to find her were in a language at the time he thought was made up, a silly language spoken between the two of them as children that he had long forgotten. He was cursed to remember her, but not how to find her; this was his lot in life, his cross to bear. He felt his grip tighten on his cigar until it snapped under the stress. He gritted his teeth as complex emotions welled up inside of him. Before he could snap, he bottled those complex feelings up once again, knowing full well the next time it would be progressively harder to put the proverbial lid his pent-up sentiments. He bent down and picked up the remnants of his destroyed cigar, he internally chided himself on his behavior. He continued walking being sure to dispose of what was once his cigar in a proper receptacle.

He stopped at what was presumably a local watering hole, but it looked like it has seen better days as the front window was currently broken. He was sure this where that group of upstanding citizens he encountered earlier must have originated from. He moseyed on up letting out a whistle as he pretended to inspect the damage, but behind his sunglasses he was actually taking note of the clientele that he could see inside and outside of the establishment.

He noticed the name of the tavern was apparently Saints and Sinners and was not sure if he appreciated the name ironically or unironically. In the old country it seemed they were either not that creative when naming things or the state censors just dissuaded such frivolities. He mentally shrugged. Hidden behind his shades his eyes quickly darted from person to person. Only few of the patrons stood out to him. Firstly, there was a rather muscular female who seemingly met the loose qualifications of possibly possessing a good deal of strength and being a broad. There was also this inordinately handsome man smoking a cigarette, one’s eyes were inexplicably drawn to him and it took some will power to advert one’s gaze. It was rather hard to pinpoint who “some kid” could be as there were a few younger looking patrons milling around and age was relative to the beholder. Needless to say this was certainly an interesting locale and it seemed that a lot of interesting characters liked to partake in this fine dining experience. He could not help but let a mirthless smirk envelop his face as he was certain that this was an establishment worthy of him and his compatriots’ patronage in the coming days. Things were starting to look up.

Prey Tell (Or Keep It To Yourself){Accepting Players!}

It is early in the morning and only a spattering of patrons were enjoying breakfast at the outdoor portion of The Bean There Café. Vanja Janković puffed on his cigar savoring the smoke as he examined some photos. Undoubtedly, a bad habit, but at least it brought a little consistency to his otherwise hectic existence. Smoking was one of the World’s great unifiers after all, no matter where in the world he found himself there was some variation practiced. Through his dark sunglasses he looked up at the photos at his dinning partner the fact they both managed to reach middle age relatively unscathed was undoubtedly an outlier in their chosen profession. He returned to pursuing the photos; they primarily showed his dinning partner sometimes alone and sometimes with a homily looking woman posing against various backdrops such as signs advertising national parks. It seemed like in the ten years since he last laid eyes on Harry Alberts the man has managed to keep himself busy. To an outside observer the pair looked like two middle aged friends exchanging stories and reconnecting over some shared past. However, Vanja was sure if that hypothetical observer was able to see the mens’ auras they would see darkness emanating from the pair; it was of some condolence that Harry’s blackness would eclipse even his own. The duo were what one would call mercenaries, assassins, hitmen, hired guns, or if one was being generously politically correct freelancers; supernatural creatures referred to them as Hunters though Vanja was certain other Hunters would probably take great offence to that. Unlike the large majority of other Hunters that Vanja met in the last twenty-four years who fought for moral or religious reasons and were bound by strict regulations, those of his ilk battled primarily for money and were bound only by the guidelines given to them by the one who hired them. He flicked the ashes from his cigar into an ashtray.

Vanja repressed grimacing as despite his cordial interaction with the man he loathed Harry Alberts. Alberts was the worse type of freelancer, the type that fought to satisfy their own sick and twisted perversions. Ten years ago, he vowed never to work with the man again after what happened in Nepal. Putting aside that Alberts almost jeopardized the mission and cost the lives of six of his fellow compatriots, what he did to those innocent missionaries was beyond words. He should have put a bullet in the head of the degenerate for insubordination, but Alberts always had a knack for making himself indispensable. It would be hard for anyone not familiar with the events that occurred in Kathmandu throughout the winter of 2010 to even comprehend that Alberts could be capable of such butchery. Harry Alberts looked like a harmless grandpa, with rosy cheeks, a large frame, and a grey beard; he was a extroverted person armed with heartwarming stories and antidotes about raising his children or from his life growing up on a ranch in rural Montana. This however was a clever façade erected to disarm those that had suspicions about him. Vanja knew better, ever since he met Alberts on a mission in Rabat, Morocco in 1998 he developed distaste for the bombastic self-aggrandizer; Kathmandu only proved his base suspicions correct. Alberts was sending him a message by having him look at the otherwise innocent photos of his grandchildren and snapshots of his adventures on the road with his wife; he was covertly bragging about his misdeeds. Vanja was certain that late at night on the trails of these national parks some poor folks had the misfortune of coming across Harry Alberts while his wife was fast asleep; the forests undoubtedly became their tombs.

Vanja would have never travelled to Gravette had he known that this reckless psychopath was on the payroll once again; he was not happy that Roger Bonheur renegaded on his promise to never again have Vanja work a mission with Alberts, but it seemed the client must have been desperate for experienced bodies. He mulled over just pulling out his Beretta and shooting Alberts in his fat face; it would serve as both his resignation and spare Alberts’ grandchildren having to grow up knowing Pop-Pop was a mass murderer. However, he stayed his hand for the time being. He was not in this line of work for the money or the thrills, he was here because he had to find her. She was a phantom that haunted the deepest recesses of his mind; just the thought of her torn down the mental ramparts erected by years of cynicism. She was akin to his last shed of humanity; it is what kept him from devolving into a monster like Alberts or a nihilist like Bonheur. He managed to avoid completely becoming wrapped up in thoughts about Rakel for the time being.

He wordlessly handed the photos back to Alberts not giving the creep the satisfaction of a reaction. A waitress came by and refilled the men’s coffees. Alberts leered at her for an uncomfortable amount of time as she departed before pouring a few packets of sweetener into his drink. Vanja could not help wondering how many disappearances in Gravette were the result of Alberts. Alberts had been in the city for almost a year at this point; he runs a local thrift shop called The Pack Rat under the false identity of Jim Hughes. He presented himself to be some relation to the former owners who disappeared under rather mysterious circumstances. He is known around the metropolis as a man who is known for his tall tales and friendly demeanor; he is always up to lending a hand to his fellow citizens and is a member of a few volunteer groups. Alberts certainly considers himself above suspicion.

“Always were quite the shutterbug Jim. Any word on how the high school reunion is progressing? You know how I hate surprises.”

“Last time I checked the gang’s going to all be here, with a few exceptions. You are punctual as always, a little early perhaps. I see you haven’t changed in the slightest you are the same old tight ass. Oh, Captain. My Captain” says Alberts whilst shoveling a second helping of grits into his gullet.

“I could say the same thing about you, it still seems your up to your old tricks as usual. I could have lived without ever seeing your deplorable face again, but I am willing to put the past aside for the sake of this reunion. Consider the hatchet buried. With that being said, is the itinerary set yet.”

Alberts chuckles spraying undigested grits from his mouth. “You are putting aside the past? Since when? It is good to see that your sense of humor has improved these last ten years Josip. I would worry that you would burry that hatchet in my back, but I know better than to mistrust your commitment…to this or any reunions. Unfortunately, our resident party planner has not made me aware of the finalized schedule yet. We are still on to meet at the old hangout in a few days and all should be revealed then. In the meantime, you should explore our old stomping grounds. Sample the local wildlife. You know I have.” A knowing smirk overtakes his visage.

Vanja used to feel odd being addressed by one of his various pseudonyms or talking in code, but these things were second nature at this point. It would have been rather distressing and a sign of impending danger to hear his true named uttered in a public setting nowadays. He was going by the aliases of Josip Hale and had the documents to back up his claim in case he was stopped by law enforcement. He samples the cup of black coffee and it leaves a distinct impression of weakness in his mouth. Why did North Americans have such wretched coffee? This morning was already turning out to be unbearable. He leaves a generous tip on the table and makes his abrupt exit; he had enough of Harry Alberts for one day. He makes his way down the sidewalk at a brisk pace ever observant to ensure he is not being followed. He takes another puff on his cigar as he walks.