Rawk — Roleplayer Guild

Downtown Los Angeles | Gladys Ave & 6th Street

Skid Row, one of the least hospitable spots in the greater Los Angeles area -comparatively-, and certainly not a place you'd make a conscious decision of moving to. For some, it was the end of the line from a long life wasted away on drugs, alcohol, and general self-destruction. To others it was a pass-through to greater horizons beyond the muck and mire. But for those who dwelled in the darkest part of the shadows for a living, it was most certainly called “home" in one capacity or another.  The younger Sabbat Anarch population rarely cared about keeping up appearances, but instead ruling the shit piles of the world knowing that the forgotten will one day rise up again to conquer. And for many, the end was already here.

The pink haired girl sat at the top step of the tenement building entrance stairway unlacing her black roller skates, loosening the leather supports and pulling both skates off of her sore feet, paying special attention to the left. They both hurt, but this one in particular, and for whatever reason, was the most painful. She wasn't sure if it was a muscle cramp or an ankle sprain, but whatever her master's blood did to mitigate the physical pain for the last few hours worked too well, at least until the effects began to subside. She slowly peeled off the sweaty sock on her left foot, clenching her teeth from the sharp spike of pain that coursed from her heel to about mid-calf. Part of her wanted to cry, but what the hell would that do except make her appear to be just another weak-ass mortal vessel for her Sabbat superiors. A “Ghoul" they called her, and probably more so out of humor at her expense than anything practical. But as far as Alex was concerned, the vampire creepers she’d had the displeasure of associating with all watched too many B-rated horror flicks. 

Either way, it was a bittersweet relationship with her relatively newfound “friends”. On the one hand, she loved the acceptance they offered, a sense of belonging really, and all the perks and power that came with their bestowed gifts via blood bondage. It was exhilarating to say the least to be part of something bigger than herself. But, no benefits came without its conditions, and harsh they were, especially as a newly created Ghoul, serving the Sect’s cause in any capacity they saw fit no matter the physical or psychological impact to their mortal herd. Additionally, like any good addict was well aware, functionality without the source of their addiction was damn near impossible. Blood was the necessary element for sustenance, power, as well as subservience, and without the allotted amount per day, a bound Ghoul would simply go mad, even to the extent of starving itself or attempting to feed off their own flesh. Yeah, it can get ugly when fucking with the fragile mind and physiology of a human vessel, but the Sabbat kindred excelled at such things. It's what made them the assholes they are today.

“Jake?” Alex’s voice carried with it an undertone of apprehension as she stepped lightly through the already unlocked front door of her second floor apartment, unsure if her boyfriend was about. The scent of sweat, mold, decay, and expired dairy products hit her still heightened senses, and the flickering fluorescent lighting from the kitchen in the next room spilled through its entryway. “Jake? Don't fuck with me, dude.” Her voice cracked a bit as a feeling of dread crept into her head, pushing against thoughts as it slowly began to formulate into fear. She placed her skates and damp socks down on the stained carpet, and closed the front door behind her, before making her way over to the kitchen, her left foot still sore from earlier, causing her stride to be off balance.

“Well hello there.” A rather cheery, yet gravelly voice from the kitchen responded before the girl rounded the corner. “I was wondering when you'd be back.” 

The male's broken English and slight lisp was unmistakable to the young girl. ”Cyrus?...ohmygod...”

Her hand instinctively went up to her mouth to stifle a shriek, and what came next sent chills up and down her spine at the bloodied corpse that laid ravaged in the middle of the checkered kitchen floor, and the head of her now very dead boyfriend sitting atop the small square table in the corner where Cyrus was seated. “Well don’t be so dramatic, my dear, it’s not like he was the best thing that ever happened to you.” The vampire grinned, licking his bloodied fingers before lifting the mangled head and hovering it over a tall mason jar full of thick vitae. “At the very least, I expected some gratitude for ridding this world of another deadbeat, yeah?”

Alex had to give herself a moment to even remotely process what had happened in her apartment, and the realization that the guy she’d spent the last six months with was now a bloodied mess on the floor with his head ripped off in the most violent of ways. The girl wanted to vomit, but hadn’t hadn’t really eaten anything throughout the day for much to come up, and yet the gagging started regardless. 

“Oh please.” The other said in a mockingly pathetic tone of voice. “Don’t be a pussy.” Cyrus tossed the severed head back onto the table, lifted the glass jar of blood and held it out for Alex. “Drink it. One part me. One part of asshole over there. It’ll make you feel better.” The vampire kept the same smug expression across his veiny face.

“I-I don’t want-”

“DRINK IT!” He growled, his hand shaking enough from the outburst to spill a bit of the blood over the rim of the jar and causing it to run down and splash onto the floor, mixing with the rest of the blood, guts, and caked-on grime. “Now look what you made me do.”

The supernatural fear brought on by the vampire’s dark presence engulfed the poor girl as she slowly stepped toward her master and went to reach for the lifeblood that would re-orient her thought pattern and push away any further anxieties, even if for a little while. Cyrus suddenly let go of the jar and watched it crash to the floor, the glass shattering into a thousand pieces, and the blood splattering in all directions, leaving a pool at the foot of where the vampire was seated.

“Now drink it.” The Sabbat’s voice took on a much more guttural tone while he motioned his pale hand toward the crimson mess at his feet. “I want to see you on all fours like the slut hound that you are.” A wry grin slowly crept across his thin, bony face before it disappeared into a stern expression. “You will drink, regain your composure for fucks sake, and you will tell me why that piece of shit Archon is still alive…”

“Remind me again why I agreed to this?” Nicolaus stepped through the doors to Gallery 66, accompanied by his underling Servire, Adriana, who -judging by her sunshine and unicorns expression- was way more excited to be there than the Ventrue.

“Because you know a good thing when you see it?” The red-haired woman chuckled, elbowing the other as they both entered into the front area of the club, the relatively pleasant atmosphere easing it way into their senses. “Besides, this place has that ‘Old World’ flair, which your kind are into, yeah?” She smirked again, taking a bit of pleasure at little fun jabs toward the Elder; smoothing the fabric along her navy blue cocktail dress and do a last make-up check in her cell phone’s camera.

Nicolaus had to agree with the fledgling though, the two-level club was something he could definitely warm up to, and somewhat reminiscent of the Sunset Lounge in certain aspects. But either way, he was there now, and hopefully -aside from a semblance of relaxation- he may be able to discover answers to several pending questions.

“Mmm, who’s that yummy morsel of pale flesh near the bar?” Adriana said in a whispered voice, as her attention fell squarely on the host and entrepreneur of Gallery 66.

Nicolaus turned his head toward that direction and saw the tall, dark-haired figure standing near the end of the long bar, his aura giving away more than the Ventrue had expected, but perhaps not. It was non-threatening, but if he were to guess the kindred’s age…

“It’s someone you may want to exercise some caution with, Fräulein.” He said, raising a hand to greet the their host from across the floor, followed by a nod of acknowledgment and thanks for the invitation.
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