[hr][hr][center][img]http://fontmeme.com/permalink/170105/6f250f0a6ea652257bed529aa7c3eef0.png[/img][/center] [center][img]http://66.media.tumblr.com/1d17f645b2156af4620432ec8e973037/tumblr_od5kkx7jPx1sq0olho1_500.gif[/img][/center] [center][b][color=556B2F]Location:[/color][/b] Almack’s Assembly Rooms --> Talink Estate (London Docks) --> London Docks [b][color=556B2F]Mood Music: [/color][/b][url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tq6qP0xrEkI]"Being Evil Has a Price" by Heavy Young Heathens[/url] [img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/170802/afa812679a8c9723aec97a07b4ece7f6.png[/img][hr][hr][h3][I][b][color=556B2F]March 21st, 1823[/color][/b][/I][/h3][/center] Thalken crossed his arms over his muscular chest as he watched his father Beowulf finish up what appeared to be some kind of business transaction. So basically, while everyone, including the man's own children, were inside Almack's fighting for their lives, he was out here arranging for another body to drop. It was this utter disregard for the sanctity and fragility of life that Thalken had grown to so despise. To think he had once, not that long ago, been exactly like his father. Now he tried to be better, to reverse this curse placed upon him, but it was hard to become a saint when you have always been a sinner. Once his client left, Beowulf turned to face Thalken and Thalcona, his eyes taking in their disheveled appearance. "You two look like crap," he stated bluntly. Thalken's jaw clenched as he fought to keep the anger simmering at the surface at bay. As much as he would like to give his father a piece of his mind, it would be a wasted effort. No, he had to play his cards more carefully than that. [color=556B2F]"Let's just get out of this hell hole,"[/color] he bit out. He then spun on his heels and stalked off to find the carriage they had arrived in. There was a silence that seemed to follow him, and he greeted it with thankfulness. In the last few hours, he had conversed and dealt with people much more than he would have liked. Fighting invigorated him, but "socializing" drained him. Honestly, he wasn't used to having this problem, as most people avoided him like the plague itself. And for good reason. Once Thalken located the carriage, he seated himself inside, and his family soon followed suit. They were then quickly off to the Talink Estate, which was located in close proximity to the London Docks. It suited the Talink's dark endeavors well, making for a good location for business transactions. Unfortunately, it made Thalken feel like he had to work double time to stay two steps ahead of his father. Why did his life have to be so damn complicated? He let out a sigh as his ever intense gaze took in the passing scenery. He was not really interested in any of it. None of it intrigued him or inspired him. He saw the nightlife as the filth of humanity. No, this was his attempt to disassociate himself from the others in the carriage, in the hopes that they would not talk to him. And it seemed to work for the duration of the ride. When the carriage pulled to a stop in front of the Talink Estate, he couldn't have gotten out any faster. He quickly put distance between his father and sister, but mostly his father. He went straight to his chambers, taking off his long, black overcoat and silvery shirt as he entered. His muscular chest was littered with scars, and he bared a tattoo of the Three Harmonies Society seal on his left pectoral. He changed trousers before collapsing into bed. He gladly let sleep claim him. [center][img]http://media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m98svgi8G21r7upxy.gif[/img] [img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/170802/82b7c0237eae8f96fc26463ac9fd56fc.png[/img][h3][I][b][color=556B2F]March 22nd, 1823[/color][/b][/I][/h3][/center] And sleep certainly did claim him, but not in the good sense of the word. No, it shrouded him in a darkness like death. That in itself should not be a peculiar sensation for a man, such as himself, who lives in the shadows casted by his father and is surrounded by so much death. And yet, it was strange nonetheless, in a way that was not entirely decipherable. The bloodcurdling scream of a child suddenly ripped him from that dark void. He let out a gasp, and his eyes shot open just as the disconcerting screams waned. His breaths came in and out in sharp pants, trying to regain the oxygen that had been sucked out of his lungs by that rude awakening. There was this unknown feeling that pressed on him to stay in the confines of his chambers. Seeing as it was still early and that he really did not have any desire to get up just yet, he gave into the feeling. He simply laid there in bed, staring at the ceiling for God knows how long. The cool air biting at his bare chest and the ominous feeling looming over him were the only factors that kept him from falling back asleep. The hours ticked by, before the clock finally struck ten and Thalken was released from the feeling that had been holding him captive. He rose and got dressed for the day. What madness laid ahead for him this day? He would find out soon enough. He donned his typical dark attire, perfect for blending into the shadows. He then armed himself with the various weapons of his trade and grabbed the last few items he always kept on his person before swiftly leaving his chambers. He decided to leave the Talink Estate and take a stroll out on the London Docks, a not uncommon habit of his. By the time Thalken walked out onto the docks, life seemed to have resumed to its normal level of busyness. But not everything was as it should be, as Thalken would soon find out. It would seem that the darkness that had shrouded him last night and had done more than just disturb people's sleep. It had claimed lives. [color=556B2F]"What the hell?!"[/color] he exclaimed as he came upon an unsettling sight. A dozen bodies were laid out on the docks. It was not uncommon to find bodies on the docks, but typically it was only or two, found in the shadowy areas. No, this was out in the open, like the killer or killers wanted his/their handiwork to be seen by all. Thalken walked up to and slowly circled around the pile of corpses. The sight did not faze him as it would most others. After all, as a mercenary, he was not unfamiliar with such carnages. His shrewd gaze looked the bodies over for any clues as to what had happened. He noted how the majority of the bodies had been systematically laid out like some kind of macabre art. And yet the last four had simply been piled on top of each other, contrary to the meticulousness exhibited by the placement of the others. Perhaps the killer(s) had almost been caught and had to drop everything to get away. He kneeled down next to one of the bodies to examine it closer. [hr][hr] [hr][hr][center][img]http://fontmeme.com/permalink/161203/27a034e8ea53c1b04481b19ad78c9a9c.png[/img][/center] [center][img]https://media.giphy.com/media/3oKIPfz9cQZIJsAMw0/giphy.gif[/img][/center] [center][b][color=DC143C]Location:[/color][/b] Almack’s Assembly Rooms --> Hyde Park Inn [b][color=DC143C]Mood Music:[/color][/b] [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=urbmwI8APdo]"Broken" by Depeche Mode[/url] [img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/170802/85ca5d4d43f30221021abb3f2133a157.png[/img][hr][hr][h3][i][b][color=DC143C]March 21st, 1823[/color][/b][/I][/h3][/center] The atmosphere inside the carriage was dull, but considering all that had happened that night, it should not be much of a surprise. The darkness and violence that the Kildragon family had witnessed firsthand weighed heavily on them all, but none more than Fyror. In fact, there was a weariness to his demeanor as he stared blankly out at the dark streets and passing scenery. The world seemed duller, or maybe it was just him and the darkness of his thoughts that made the world seem so gray. His thoughts went back to dear Jeanette. Ms. Crane was one of the first friends he had made in quite some time. And now she was gone. The image of her lifeless face was forever etched into his mind. Death did not suit a woman as vibrant and full of life as she. And then there was Millicent. [I]Oh, sweet Millicent.[/I] Perhaps death would have been a kinder option for her. To watch her family be torn apart in what seemed like the blink of an eye. To watch them be ravaged by a bloodthirsty beast disguised as a dearly departed mother. And on top of all that she was seemingly coerced into marrying that dishonorable man Lord Rutherford. Perhaps it was wishful thinking that made Fyror believe that things could not possibly get any worse for her. Oh how wrong he was and he didn't even know it. "I don't know what all took place this night, or what went wrong to have allowed so many Soulless to breach the city's defenses. But one thing has been made clear. London is no longer safe. I think it is best we return to the safety of Colchester Garrison, and then we can figure out what to do from there," his father Colonel Theodore finally broke through the uncomfortable silence. The man's words effectively pulled Fyror from his ruminations. His head snapped over to look at his father. [color=DC143C]"No!"[/color] Fyror exclaimed a bit more sharply than he had attended. He let out a sigh and closed his eyes for a moment before reiterating in a decidedly softer tone. [color=DC143C]"No. Take mother, Genevieve, and Leon back to the garrison if you feel it is best and safest for them, but I am determined to stay here in London. These people are in grave danger and are in need of as much help as they can get. As a soldier it is my duty to protect them, is it not?"[/color] "Son, I know your intentions are honorable; however, you are but one man. You cannot do this alone, and you don't have to. The military will come to these people's aid once we figure out the best course of action," Colonel Theodore replied, trying to dissuade Fyror. [color=DC143C]"And until then, how many more people will suffer and die? Besides, most of those in the garrison are untrained in fighting Soulless. They wouldn't even know where to begin,"[/color] Fyror argued. [color=DC143C]"I am sorry, father, but my mind is firmly set on this and nothing you say or do can stop me."[/color] The thing about Fyror was that he remained open minded in most situations, but when it came to the safety of others, he could be increasingly stubborn. He would willingly jump headfirst into the fire, no matter how much it burned him. His selflessness in this regard was one of his most admirable qualities. And yet the irony of it was that he did not think about how his brash actions caused undue stress to his family. He was selfless and selfish all at the same time. The atmosphere was once more plunged into dull silence by Fyror's definitive statements. His family members shared disheartened looks amongst one another but did not try to argue with him further. They knew it was futile. In essence, his protective nature could be his greatest asset as well as his deepest flaw. The atmosphere remained relatively silent for the duration of the short carriage ride back to their inn. And once they were there, Fyror stiffly helped his family out of the carriage and then went to his chambers without a word. He got dressed for bed and then gladly let sleep consume him. He hoped that sleep would wash away the weariness, the sadness, and the pain, all so he could start the next day anew. [center][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/c08e11f7-3cfd-47ba-8929-88361f1112d2.gif[/img] [img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/170802/28a7a7a6a944f6d5d0bc32f32c949f68.png[/img][h3][I][b][color=DC143C]March 22nd, 1823[/color][/b][/I][/h3][/center] Sleep wasn't as kind to him as he had hoped it would be. It did not rejuvenate him, instead it pulled him into this pit of darkness and death. It weighed down on him. It consumed him. It seemed to drag him deeper and deeper into the endless void, before suddenly spitting him out in a violent manner. The heart wrenching, bloodcurdling scream of a child was his parting gift. He awoke with a start, letting out a strangled cry and basically shooting out of bed. His eyes danced around wildly, even after the child's scream had waned to a dull nothingness. Was it real, or was it a figment of his imagination? Either way, it was disturbing nonetheless. His cry managed to rudely awaken his brother Leon, who was sharing the room with him at the inn. Leon shot out of bed in a similar manner, but unlike Fyror, he did so to grab a weapon. "I'm up, I'm up! Where's the danger? Are you hurt? I heard you cry out," he rambled on with his raised sword now in hand. His eyes did a sweep of the room before landing on Fyror. [color=DC143C]"S-sorry, I think I just had a bad dream. I didn't mean to wake you,"[/color] Fyror apologized wearily as he eyed Leon. Did he hear it too? No, his brother's words made it clear that he had awoken to Fyror's cry, not to the scream of a child. So, it was just him that had heard it. But why imagine a child's scream? It would have made more sense if it had been Jeanette's or Millicent's. Not that of an unknown child. Leon let out a puff of air. "Okay then," he stated simply, putting down his sword. He rubbed his eyes before deciding to just go back to bed. Fyror let out a shuttering breath and sat down on edge of his own bed. He could use more sleep, the rude awakening having left him weary, but he did not think he could fall back to sleep. Nor did he want to. He did not want to be dragged back into that dark void. He looked over at the door. He wanted to go out, but at the same time, there was this overwhelming feeling that grounded him and held him captive in this very room. Why? He had no idea why. So, he stayed there, barely moving from that position as time slowly slowly ticked by. When the clock struck ten, he was then released. He quickly got dressed for the day, donning his infantry uniform and the various items and weapons he always kept on his person. Strangely, he now felt the overwhelming desire to leave this room. Before he left, he shook his brother Leon awake. [color=DC143C]"Leon, it's ten o'clock already. You need to get up,"[/color] he stated. Once his brother was up, he then exited their chambers. Upon entering the main room of the inn, Fyror was approached by the innkeeper with a message from Dr. Graham. It read, [I]Sir Kildragon, I shall not be able to meet at my office this day. I am currently tied up at Westminster Hospital. If you would like to still meet, please send word and I will find time in my schedule if you can come to me. Sincerely, Dr. Graham.[/I] Fyror thanked the innkeeper for delivering the message, before finding a pen and paper to write a response. He had only just met Dr. Graham the night before when the man came to aid Mrs. Wyndham. He had found it puzzling when the man had asked to speak with Fyror the next day. And yet it also had intrigued him. Surely the man had something of importance to say, so Fyror was willing to work around the doctor's busy schedule. He wrote up the letter as follows, [I]Dr. Graham, I am not otherwise engaged, so I will be happy to meet you at a later time that suits your busy schedule. Sincerely, Fyror Kildragon.[/I] He let out a sigh as he finished writing it up then had it sent out asap.