[center][img]https://cdn.imgchest.com/files/42b9e46c2358.png[/img][/center]
[center][h1][color=#7D5CB3]Kess[/color][/h1][/center]
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[center][color=#812442][b]Location:[/b][/color] Underground • [color=#812442][b]Time:[/b][/color] Now. [/center]
[center][color=#812442][b]Mentions:[/b][/color] [@Oso] [@EtherealThorn] [/center]
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Something had happened. What had been a throbbing, living thing, the groove and the physical vibration of beings moving in a cathartic, rhythmic beat to the music, which insinuated itself into the very fibre of each and every consciousness present… a shared experience, blood pumping in sync, fuelled by a driving guitar and a throbbing bass, pushing the tribe to act out their deepest, most bestial desires, had shifted suddenly. To be sure, there was still noise. There was still bass, though that rhythm was gone, replaced by something that seemed like a single note, or a mistake drawn out by an agonizingly long pause. Similarly the groove, the pulse of feet and the motion of the place, likewise gone, replaced by a sudden, catatonic faltering, then… panic. The difference between stomping, moshing, dancing to the beat, and people attempting to flee something gone bizarrely wrong in a horrible instant was as jarring as the cessation of KC’s motion under him. It was as if they had both felt it at once. 

There was no time spared for an exchange between them, as Kessler unentangled himself from KC, and made for the door, senses aflame and piercing the gloom. He strode with purpose along the hallway toward the bar-back area, passing a side storage room that had previously contained two writhing bodies in the throes of passion. He stopped and looked in, seeing the twitching, pale, scarily thin, yet unnaturally strong, shirtless form of the vamp barback holding a broken woman’s body aloft, her naked, limp form being exsanguinated; the vamp delighting in the torrent of her blood across his face, in his mouth, coating his chest. His tongue out, savouring the essence of her life, his erection evident under leather trousers. The woman’s body was torn, her flesh ripped in a dozen places, body held at an unnatural angle as the blood poured and rained down on the vamp. 

Kessler moved swiftly, taking advantage of the vamp’s attention being elsewhere, its mouth open wide, ecstatic in this rain of blood, and reached over the bloodsucker’s head, taking hold of his jaw from above and below, and exerted his significant strength, rending muscle and flesh asunder, as he literally tore the vamp’s jaw clean off, and wrenched the creature’s head back, snapping vertebrae and sinews, coming close to tearing the man’s head off. 

He regarded his efforts for a heartbeat, both the twitching vamp and the broken human woman lying at his feet, before turning back toward the door. Bone snapped and cracked, flesh tearing and reforming, muscle mass doubled and as the pain faded away as Kessler changed, he ripped what remained of his shirt from his thickly corded torso, discarding it as he neared the doorway. He grabbed hold of the doorframe, partly to steady himself as his spine cracked and the final vestiges of his human form gave way, his vast shoulders and rippling chest betraying the power he possessed in his wolf form. 

Whatever was happening here, was connected to Logan’s death. Someone was forcing this fight on them. Now wasn’t the time to find out how, or why. Now was simply to get out alive. He had to get to Dom. The Lycan that stepped back through the storage room doorway and into the barback hall, moving faster than anything that big had any right no move, was perhaps the most destructive force of nature at the Fangs’ disposal, and anything between Kessler and his goal would soon be reminded of that. Blood had already been spilled. But not nearly enough. 

He moved into the bar proper, and out into the main room of the ‘Underground,’ vaulting onto the bar, crouching and ready for what came next…