[IC] 𝙲𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝙲𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚢

[TrippyNightmare]

♫

𝙰𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚁𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎.

𝙰𝚕𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚋𝚎 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚍𝚒𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚝, 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚏𝚞𝚕𝚕 𝚘𝚏 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚛. 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚘𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚞𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚢 𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 - 𝚜𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚜 𝚊𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚛 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜. 𝙰𝚝𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝙺𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝙱𝚊𝚛𝚘𝚗 𝙼𝚊𝚖𝚞𝚠𝚊𝚕𝚍𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚍 𝚊𝚗 𝚒𝚛𝚘𝚗 𝚐𝚛𝚒𝚙 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚞𝚝𝚑 𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚁𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙲𝚊𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚊 𝚏𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚒𝚝'𝚜 𝚜𝚌𝚛𝚊𝚙𝚜 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚑 𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚘𝚠𝚗, 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚋𝚊𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚍𝚢 𝚟𝚒𝚜𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚕 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚗𝚘 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚕𝚍𝚒𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚋𝚘𝚝𝚑 𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚜 𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚞𝚗𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚛 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚙. 𝚂𝚒𝚐𝚑, 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚙𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚗𝚘 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚗, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 - 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚍𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚟𝚎𝚍. 𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚝'𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚐𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝'𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚋𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚞𝚗𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎𝚕𝚢 '𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚘𝚎𝚜' 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎, 𝚝𝚘𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚌𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚌𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚜.

𝙴𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝙴𝚣𝚛𝚊 𝙰𝚕𝚊𝚖𝚊𝚒𝚗, 𝚂𝚎𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚢 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙵𝚒𝚡𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙰𝚗𝚊𝚛𝚌𝚑 𝙼𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝. 𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚍𝚒𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗, 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚋𝚒𝚝𝚌𝚑 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚊𝚗𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚑𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝙼𝚊𝚖𝚞𝚠𝚊𝚕𝚍𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚋𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚙𝚒𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚘𝚝 𝚟𝚒𝚝𝚊𝚎 𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚜? 𝙽𝚊𝚢, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚘𝚕𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚍𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚝; 𝚒𝚗 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚝, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚊𝚗 𝙰𝚜𝚜𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚝𝚎. 𝙳𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚕𝚢 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚒𝚘𝚛, 𝚍𝚒𝚊𝚋𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚙𝚘𝚒𝚜𝚘𝚗 𝚏𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚘𝚕𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚍 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚊 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚗, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙰𝚗𝚊𝚛𝚌𝚑𝚜 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚟𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚋𝚕𝚊𝚍𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚎𝚕𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚘𝚏 𝚍𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚋𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚎𝚠 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚕𝚊𝚐 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚏𝚕𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙲𝚊𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚊 𝚘𝚛 𝚍𝚒𝚎 𝚝𝚛𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐.

𝚃𝚠𝚘 𝚕𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚜, 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝙳𝚛𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝙳𝚎𝚕𝚘𝚛𝚎𝚜, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙴𝚍𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝙿𝚑𝚒𝚕 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚛 𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚝𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚎𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚛 𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚂𝚎𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚢 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏. 𝙸𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚗𝚘 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚎𝚗, 𝚖𝚊𝚢𝚋𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔 𝚞𝚙𝚜 𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚛 𝚑𝚒𝚐𝚑 𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚊𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙰𝚜𝚜𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚝𝚎, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚠𝚊𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚛𝚔𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚞𝚙. 𝙰𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚔, 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊 𝚜𝚒𝚕𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚋𝚕𝚊𝚍𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚒𝚙 - 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚛𝚞𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚜𝚘𝚕𝚍𝚒𝚎𝚛, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚌𝚛𝚊𝚙 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚎𝚕 𝚝𝚘 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚐𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚙. 𝙰𝚛𝚖𝚜 𝚌𝚛𝚘𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚖𝚒𝚍 𝚜𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚞𝚙 𝚒𝚗 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚝 𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚛, 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚠𝚒𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚖𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚋𝚎 𝚛𝚘𝚢𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙲𝚊𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚊 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚑𝚞𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚗𝚘 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚎𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝚀𝚞𝚎𝚒𝚝𝚞𝚜.

[Birdboy]

"Come on, fucker, not now!"

In the hushed streets of Riverside's urban sprawl, a car's engine sputters and groans in a vain attempt to reignite life within itself. A key twisted over and over, reliving the agony that would be cruel to a living being, pulses of life pushed into a dying heart. This was the predicament a dead man named Drake found himself in on the war-torn streets of Riverside. After a final attempt to twist the key, he slammed his fist into the door, unintentionally shattering the window regulator to bits. It took everything within him not to rage further, but the reminder of what could be watching kept him from lashing out. Instead, he stepped out of the clunker he called a car (an old, beat-up Chrysler). He carefully closed the door gently, knowing any amount of force from his inhuman strength might be too much.

He stepped to the hood and lifted it. His tools were already nearby; this had been a fairly regular issue for him. He did not use them, though, instead all but ripping the spark plugs free from their position and rubbing them across his stained and tattered hoodie. It would be the closest he would get to cleaning them off for now. inserting them back in, he ran back to the driver's side and plunged his key in, twisting it and twisting his fingers in his other hand. The engine sputtered and groaned, but with a sudden rush, the engine sprang to life. Drake pumped his fist but quickly slammed the door and pumped the gas. He was already running late, and he had learned better than to keep his elders waiting. His engine popped and roared as he took off due north.

The closer he got to his destination, the more anxious he became. Was he being followed? What powers would other vampires have that he did not? Why did they need some nobody fledgling, for this war? Thoughts like this made him wish he could light a cigarette without his inner beast throwing a fit. Eventually, he pulled his car to the side a good block away from the destination. After taking a few seconds to gather his courage, he stepped out, locked the vehicle, and moved towards the warehouse with urgency. He kept his eyes ever turning, staring at every shadow, and his ears flickered with every noise.

Enter Drake Delores, small-time crook and newly indoctrinated Neonate. To any unsuspecting fool, he would look like another bum on the West Coast searching for work. His clothes were tattered: a beat-up and stained hoodie, and a pair of jeans that would make goths envious. His hair was a greasy mess, even if he couldn't sweat anymore. To those in the know, he was a freshly minted killing machine, an outlander with little regard for rules and the disciplines of a warrior. As he entered the building, though, the pretenses of a man dropped. His eyes blared red like a nocturnal hunter. It was refreshing not to have to worry about a breach of masquerade. He was among his kind here, among kindred, even if it sickened him to think this way.

He couldn't help but sneer indignantly when he saw the only person awaiting him, a single woman. He did not want to be here; it wasn't his war, and he wanted no part in it. However, even a fledgling knew better than to talk back to their superiors. Ezra was more than a superior; she was a threat. Even the Gangrels who had taught him warned him not to get on her bad side. Unfortunately, Drake's mouth tended to speak on its own. He ran his fingers across the built-up dust on a nearby shelf as he spoke.

”Nice place, are you renting?"

Nervously, he shifted, knowing it would be better not to linger on his jeering. Instead, he stood at attention, straightening out and trying to seem more intimidating than he ever could be.

“I'm Drake, how can I be of help for the cause”

He added quickly, an attempt at being hospitable. It would have done him well to learn the etiquette of the Kindred Society, but he hardly had manners for a human. It wasn't natural to him, but he had to try.

[Eviledd1984]

@TrippyNightmare @Birdboy

Edward O’Connor

Edward Philip O’Connor

The historian was quite anxious when he first got the email being summoned by the secretary of the Baron.. He was worried something bad was going to be asked of him. Various criminal activities came to mind regarding what he could be forced to do. And the thought of breaking the law made Edward start frantically pacing around his apartment. Only after calming himself a few hours later did he finish reading the rest of the email. He ensured he had read the email correctly to see where the meeting would occur and when it would occur. After reading the email, he got what he would need before leaving. This included his glasses, pocket notebook, house keys, wallet, phone, and a blue pen. Also, he checked to make sure everything was in its proper place in his apartment. Taking a long time turning a singular door knob because he didn’t like the sound it made when being turned.

After doing all of this, he left his apartment. He used his bike to get to the meeting place. He had been there a few times with his sire. However, he was usually too distracted to remember what had happened. Even when he was by himself, speaking to the Baron, he was constantly distracted by something misaligned in his office. While biking, he sang one of his favourite songs. as loud as he could. But Edward got very little notice as he biked down the street. Seeing a man in a full suit biking down the road while singing Backstreet Boys was not the weirdest thing a Californian would see daily.

He got off his bike and left it near the front door, thinking it would be safe while he was away. He made his way inside, trying not to attract any attention from the people inside. He only raised his gaze when he noticed Ezra standing, probably annoyed, having to wait for him and the other person. The other person who had probably arrived a few minutes before him was conversing with her. However, he didn’t like how scary his fellow vampire was. Trying to avoid eye contact with him. “Hello.” He said in what sounded like a whisper, addressing Ezra. His sire told him to be on his best behaviour or he would know what it was like to be a roasted chicken. The thought of being a “roasted chicken” frightened him greatly. Being reminded of this conversation, Edward bowed to Ezra before standing up right. His tall, lanky body craning down and back up made the gesture somewhat unnerving. But Ezra was probably not fazed by his strange looking body making the gesture.

[TrippyNightmare]

𝚁𝚘𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚗 - 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚋𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚌𝚛𝚒𝚋𝚎 𝙴𝚍𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝙾'𝙲𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚘𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙳𝚛𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝙳𝚎𝚕𝚘𝚛𝚎𝚜 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚠𝚘 𝚙𝚒𝚎𝚌𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚙𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚝𝚛𝚢 𝚠𝚊𝚕𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚕𝚏'𝚜 𝚍𝚎𝚗. 𝙾𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝, 𝙴𝚣𝚛𝚊 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚎𝚗 𝚞𝚙 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚊 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚟𝚎𝚍, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎𝚜 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚛𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚞𝚜𝚑 𝚒𝚗 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙲𝚊𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚊; 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎𝚜, 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚘𝚋𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚣𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚘𝚝𝚝𝚘𝚖 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚎𝚕. 𝙳𝚛𝚊𝚔𝚎'𝚜 𝚙𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚍𝚒𝚍 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚊 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚙𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚎 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍-𝚠𝚒𝚎𝚕𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚎𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚢; 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚒𝚍 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚜, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚕 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚋𝚎 𝚐𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚙 𝚜𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚊 𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚙 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚎. 𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚗𝚘 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚜𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎𝚜, 𝚢𝚎𝚝.

"𝙳𝚊𝚛𝚔 𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜." 𝚂𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚍, 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝙳𝚛𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚐𝚊𝚣𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝙴𝚍𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚠𝚘 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖. 𝚂𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚐𝚊𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚙𝚊𝚌𝚎, 𝚊 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚕𝚊𝚣𝚒𝚕𝚢 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚊𝚜 𝚒𝚝 𝚜𝚠𝚞𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚒𝚙𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑 𝚖𝚘𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚙 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚝𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚊𝚜 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚊𝚌𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚢 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚎. "𝚈𝚘𝚞'𝚛𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚏𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠 𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞, 𝚊𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙲𝚊𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚊 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚗𝚞𝚏𝚏 𝚞𝚜 𝚘𝚞𝚝. 𝙵𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚖𝚎, 𝙸'𝚖 𝙴𝚣𝚛𝚊 - 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚂𝚎𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚢 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝. 𝙸'𝚖 𝚒𝚗 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚐𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝙼𝚊𝚖𝚞𝚠𝚊𝚕𝚍𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚝, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙸 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚗'𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚠𝚘 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚗'𝚝 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚙 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚟𝚒𝚟𝚎."

𝚈𝚎𝚜, 𝚛𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚙𝚎𝚝 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚐𝚛𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚒𝚘𝚛 𝚎𝚢𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚠𝚘 𝚖𝚎𝚗 𝚊𝚜 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚙𝚊𝚌𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚗𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚊 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚕𝚔𝚋𝚘𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚜𝚎𝚝 𝚞𝚙 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚎. 𝚁𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚘𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚊𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍, 𝚒𝚝 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚍 𝚊 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚙𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚛 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢 - 𝚊 𝚏𝚘𝚘𝚝𝚋𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚌𝚛𝚒𝚋𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚖𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚜 𝚘𝚗 𝚊 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚘𝚏 𝚙𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚛.

𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚂𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚐𝚎'𝚜 𝙷𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚗.

𝙰 𝚋𝚎𝚊𝚝 𝚙𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚜.
"𝙻𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚗, 𝚋𝚛𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝙸 𝚠𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚜𝚞𝚐𝚊𝚛 𝚌𝚘𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚝. 𝙸 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚙 𝚔𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚂𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚐𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙲𝚊𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚊."

[Eviledd1984]

@TrippyNightmare @Birdboy

Edward O’Connor

Edward Philip O’Connor

The historian didn’t like the look the woman was giving her. It was scary and reminded him of bullies in his past who would prey on young Eddie. Perhaps his uneasiness came from the sword that hung around her waist. "Dude, what are you doing? Run, she's Banu Haqim. She's gonna kill you." A voice blurted out, making him look behind him. But there was no one there.

He didn’t think he would make a very good soldier; if anything, he would be better suited to a clerical role. He watched her roll a chalkboard with scribbling of what he believed was some sort of desperate plan. Edward took a moment to study the plan and try to make sense of its meaning.

He was aware of the Camarilla and their ongoing conflict with the Anarchs. During his first few nights, he researched the people involved in the conflict, as well as the different clans. His train of thought was broken when Ezra mentioned the act of killing. He looked quite flustered since the thought of murder was the last thing on his mind. At most, he would kill a bug, and even then, he would hesitate even to touch it.

” So what is the plan?” He asked after what seemed like a deafening silence to him.

[Birdboy]

Glowing red eyes shot an annoyed stare at the newcomer. Auspex wasn't required to get the gist of who this person was. They looked skittish, squeamish even. Certainly not a soldier of the undead. He couldn't help but scoff when they cast their eyes down. The Gangrel tended to beat submission out of their stock, and Drake was no different. Once this sheepish stranger had stood up, though, Drake saw him properly. A good head taller than him, and Drake could feel the predatory nature of a fellow kindred, dormant as it may be. The beast within him was hiding and elusive, like a leopard waiting for the right time to strike.

"𝙳𝚊𝚛𝚔 𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜."

Drake couldn't help but roll his eyes at the gesture. Kindred society seemed so fond of such vapid expressions. Kindred, sire, mawla. It all seemed so gauche. His attention quickly flickered to the blade at her hip, and his frustrated musings were whisked away, and his attention quickly returned to her words. The sword of Damocles was less than proverbial in this situation.

Her words were less than inspiring, but her realism wasn't lost on him. As much as he disliked her use of words like 'us' and 'fellow', Drake hated to admit her words were true. To a Camarillo grunt, he was not one of their ranks and thus was an enemy. As she revealed her battle plans, Drake studied them like he understood, which he emphatically did not. What he did understand was her words. Drake's eyes widened when he heard her proclamation.

"I think you're missing a couple dozen more of us if you want that done!"

He finally spouted in disbelief, before he forced himself to stop, feeling the claws forming in his hands and his teeth gritting. Getting angry was just going to let the beast have its way, assuming she didn't kill him first. An involuntary, deep sigh filled his now defunct lungs, and was expelled in a vestigial attempt to regain his composure.

"Fuck it, might as well go out sticking it to the man"

[TrippyNightmare]

"𝚁𝚄𝙽 𝙳𝙴𝚆𝙳 𝚁𝚄𝚄𝚄𝚄𝙽~ 𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚒𝚗'𝚝 𝚗𝚘 𝚙𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚛𝚞𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚎𝚛, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚘𝚠𝚜 𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑 𝚞𝚙 𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚌𝚔 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚒𝚝'𝚜 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝." 𝚂𝚊𝚒𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚟𝚘𝚒𝚌𝚎, 𝚊 𝚍𝚒𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝙴𝚍𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚍'𝚜 𝚎𝚊𝚛, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚜𝚊𝚠 𝚊 𝚋𝚕𝚞𝚛, 𝚖𝚊𝚢𝚋𝚎 𝚊 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚎 𝚘𝚛 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚍𝚘𝚠. 𝙷𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚒𝚛𝚎? 𝙷𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜𝚗'𝚝 𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚍𝚍𝚕𝚢 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚒𝚍. 𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚗'𝚝 𝚋𝚎 𝚎𝚜𝚌𝚊𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚜𝚙 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚂𝚎𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚢 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚛𝚎. 𝙰𝚕𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝙳𝚛𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝙳𝚎𝚕𝚘𝚛𝚎𝚜 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚢 𝚏𝚞𝚛𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙼𝚊𝚕𝚔𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚊𝚗, 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚋𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚝𝚒𝚍𝚋𝚒𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚝. 𝙵𝚘𝚛 𝚗𝚘𝚠, 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚐𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚌𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎𝚍, 𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙼𝚊𝚕𝚔𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚌𝚞𝚝𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚌𝚕𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚢 𝚝𝚘 𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚗.

"𝙸𝚏 𝙸 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚙𝚎𝚘𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚠 𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜, 𝚝𝚛𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚋𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚊 '𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚖'."

𝙴𝚣𝚛𝚊 𝚜𝚗𝚊𝚙𝚜 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚊𝚝 𝙳𝚛𝚊𝚔𝚎, 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚕𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚞𝚗𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚛 𝚙𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚐𝚛𝚘𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚌𝚕𝚊𝚠𝚜, 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚘 𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚍𝚒𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎? 𝙴𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚛 𝟹 𝚕𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚒𝚝, 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚎𝚝'𝚜 𝚒𝚝 𝚐𝚘. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚗'𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚠𝚘 𝚒𝚏 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚒𝚍𝚗'𝚝 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚊𝚕 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖, 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚋𝚘𝚝𝚑 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚛 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚛𝚔𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚕𝚍𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎. 𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚝'𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜, 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚔𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚂𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚐𝚎 - 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚜𝚕𝚞𝚝, 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚊𝚜 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚜 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔, 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚍𝚛𝚊𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜, 𝚜𝚘 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚊𝚔.

"𝙸 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚘 𝚔𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚑𝚎𝚛, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚠." 𝙴𝚣𝚛𝚊 𝚖𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚜 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚜 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚕𝚔𝚋𝚘𝚊𝚛𝚍, 𝚒𝚝'𝚜 𝚊 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚟𝚒𝚎𝚠 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚂𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚐𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚋𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚞𝚝𝚑 𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎. 𝙿𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚢, 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚖𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛 - 𝚘𝚋𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚌𝚕𝚎𝚜, 𝚙𝚎𝚘𝚙𝚕𝚎, 𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚍, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔𝚜. "𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚗 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚘𝚛𝚢 𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚝 𝚜𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚎, 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚐𝚘 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚎, 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚊 𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚒𝚗, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚋𝚞𝚛𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚋𝚒𝚝𝚌𝚑 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗. 𝚂𝚑𝚎'𝚕𝚕 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚛𝚞𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚔𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚋𝚘𝚝𝚑, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝙸'𝚕𝚕 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚌𝚎𝚙𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞. 𝚁𝚒𝚜𝚔𝚢, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝'𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚠𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚗 - 𝚗𝚘𝚠, 𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜?" 𝙿𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚢 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚌𝚞𝚝 𝚑𝚞𝚑?

[Eviledd1984]

@TrippyNightmare @Birdboy

Edward O’Connor

Edward Philip O’Connor

Looking around, Edward was sure there were other Malkavians in the room. But they moved in such a quick flash, it was hard to confirm their existence. The historian didn’t quite like the sound of the plan Ezra proposed. It sounded to him that they would be used as bait so Ezra could murder this person. Nervously, Edward began to rub one of his earlobes in an attempt to calm himself down. “What would be the best point of entrance? I assume workers and security guards will be the only humans there? And the kindred sentry will be located inside? Where will you be while all of this is happening? When she sees us, where do we go so you can ambush her?” There were many questions he had. His primary concern was for his safety.

He was wondering what the best course of action would be to complete this task. And what would be the best way to avoid any conflict. Edward assumed he was picked because of his clan’s discipline, Obfuscate. Edward thought that Drake was brought along because of his clan’s disciplines, which seemed to be more combat-focused. He was still rubbing his earlobe while his eyes were closed. Opening his eyes, he started walking towards the board. Now thoroughly studying the plans.

[Birdboy]

Drake could hardly control his seething rage; physically, he was shaking with growing fury, and her words did very little to quell his ire. He wanted to lash out and attack her, the same way gangrels lash out at each other, but the sword at her hip worked like a beast tamer's whip. He knew better, and the apathy in her eyes practically dared him to. To keep himself from losing control, he gripped the wall and clawed into it, leaving deep gashes in the wall, and he grumbled to himself.

The plan itself was fine enough for him; Drake was never much for planning or elegant, precise executions. The simplicity of the tactics involved helped ease his mind. Even if this was a death trap and a fool's errand, if he survived, nothing said he did not follow orders. Even if he did so begrudgingly and cursed Ezra's name to the bitter end. He did find a glaring flaw with her plan. Before he could chastise her further, though, the twitchy nerd spoke up and blurted out a barrage of questions. It seemed the 'shit simple' aspects of the plan did not sit well with him. Drake had nearly forgotten about the meek little fledgling; he had been so quiet and complacent, it made Drake want to shout even more. Surely he wasn't the only one outraged by being drafted into a suicide mission that ultimately held very little sway on his life.

"He's got the right idea"

Drake finally audibly relented, forcing the claws to retract, which he did with a shiver. Even if it was a natural ability of his now, it never felt quiet 'natural'. He returned to the group reluctantly, but the anger quickly started to trickle back into his voice.

"If we want any chance at doing this, we need all the information you can give us. Entrances, guards, all that"

He said with a sneer. It looked like it physically pained him to comply. Quickly, the indignation in his voice returned to a steady climb into angry, bordering on shouting.

"And more importantly, how are we going to start a fire. In case you forgot, we're vamps! Fire isn't our friend,"

He added with growing rage.

"I'm half starved and pissed as is, add a raging fire, and I am bound to break a couple of masquerade rules. Are you prepared for the clean-up?"

[TrippyNightmare]

"𝚈𝚘𝚞'𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘𝚘 𝚏𝚊𝚜𝚝, 𝚔𝚒𝚍."

𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚊𝚒𝚖𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚜 𝙾'𝙲𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚘𝚛 𝚊𝚜 𝚑𝚎 𝚢𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚝𝚘 𝚟𝚒𝚌𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢, 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚞𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚗 𝚑𝚒𝚖. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚠𝚒𝚗 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚊𝚕𝚜𝚘 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚞𝚌𝚌𝚎𝚎𝚍, 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚗'𝚝 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚛𝚞𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗 𝚋𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚗'𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚙𝚘𝚘𝚗 𝚏𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚍 𝚊𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚞𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚏𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚂𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚐𝚎'𝚜 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍. 𝙴𝚣𝚛𝚊 𝚜𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚞𝚙 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚝 𝚊 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚌 𝚝𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚛𝚊𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚘𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚠𝚘𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚏 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚝 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚞𝚙, 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚎 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚗'𝚝 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝚙𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚒𝚏𝚝𝚑 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚛 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚍𝚛𝚊𝚐𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚘? 𝙳𝚎𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚜𝚒𝚝 𝚊𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚕𝚎𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚕𝚍, 𝚘𝚛 𝙲𝚊𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚊 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚞𝚝𝚑 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚁𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚍𝚎.

"𝙰𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚜𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚕𝚢. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚗 𝚒𝚜 𝚖𝚘𝚍𝚞𝚕𝚊𝚛, 𝚏𝚕𝚞𝚒𝚍, 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎'𝚜 𝚏𝚕𝚎𝚡 𝚝𝚘 𝚒𝚝. 𝙱𝚊𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚜𝚔𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚜𝚎𝚝𝚜, 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔 𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚛 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚍𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚝𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚐𝚘 𝚒𝚗. 𝙸𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚛𝚞𝚗 𝚒𝚗 𝚐𝚞𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚛𝚎 𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚒𝚎 𝚒𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚂𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚐𝚎'𝚜 𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚋𝚘𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚘 𝚃𝚘𝚛𝚙𝚘𝚛 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝. 𝙸 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚠𝚎𝚊𝚙𝚘𝚗𝚜 '𝚗 𝚜𝚞𝚙𝚙𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚜, 𝙸 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚙 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚞𝚌𝚌𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝."

𝙰 𝚋𝚎𝚊𝚝 𝚙𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚜.

"𝙱𝚞𝚝, 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙸 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚒𝚜 𝚍𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚘 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙸'𝚖 𝚊𝚜𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐?"

...

"𝙸 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚠𝚘 𝚐𝚞𝚢𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚙𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚘𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛, '𝚗 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚙𝚞𝚝 𝚍𝚒𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎. 𝙻𝚒𝚌𝚔 𝚑𝚞𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛 '𝚗 𝚙𝚘𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚜 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚏 𝚠𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚊𝚗 𝙰𝚗𝚊𝚛𝚌𝚑𝚢 𝚝𝚘𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚘𝚠 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐."

"𝙲𝚊𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚏𝚎𝚊𝚛, 𝚋𝚘𝚢𝚜?"

𝙰 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖 𝚒𝚗 𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗.

♫

[Eviledd1984]

@TrippyNightmare @Birdboy

Edward O’Connor

Edward Philip O’Connor

Edward turned to Ezra, staring at her with a concerned look on his face. Even if the plan was well-researched and thoroughly planned, it could still go awry. The mention of his particular skillset only confirmed that he was brought in because of his clan’s discipline. His clan’s disciple of Obfuscate could help infiltrate the warehouse. However, he was unsure how to lead their target to the ambush point without being killed.

He turned to Drake, knowing of the Gangrel’s clan disciplines. Something that could be immensely helpful if they are put into a combat situation. “So we know what the plan is. What would be the best way to approach this situation?” He could easily sneak into the warehouse, but he didn’t think he would be very good in a fight. And he doubted that he could accomplish the second part of the plan.

His attention turned to Ezra, nodding to her statement. He couldn’t say no and not be a part of this mission. He was afraid that backing out now would anger Ezra and, to some extent, the Baron. ” I have no issue continuing my participation in this mission.” Edward said, staring back at Ezra. His gaze was equally as intense as the Assamite's.

[Birdboy]

Drake pulled on the skin on his face, showing the red flesh under his eyelids as he audibly groaned. She had neglected to answer any of his questions, or any of his fellow cephalophore's questions. He had no doubt this was intentional and if he was apprehensive before, he was sure she was just sending more sheep to her slaughter. Her attempts at goading his masculine bravado only made him roll his eyes. He was never a proud man, but he sighed knowing this night was going to end in his own death one way or another.

Drake waited patiently for her to reply to Edward before he butted in, motion about at the empty warehouse.

"What supplies? This has got to be the warehouse with the least wares and the most wear I've ever seen"

His anger had boiled over now, and Drake was defeated. He saw no way out and his voice reflected his desperation in a grimy sarcasm.

"So who's ride are we taking, stranger?"

He added, turning his attention to Edward with a fake smarmy smile.

"Hopefully not mine, it nearly croaked on the way here. Doesn't pay to be an Anarch, evidently!"

[TrippyNightmare]

𝙰𝚕𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚌𝚕𝚘𝚌𝚔𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚘𝚛𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚠𝚘 𝚖𝚎𝚗, 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚜 𝚐𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚜 𝚘𝚛 𝚗𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚛𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚊 𝚌𝚘𝚊𝚝 𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚏𝚞𝚕𝚕 𝚘𝚏 𝚌𝚕𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝙿𝚘𝚕𝚒𝚌𝚎 𝚞𝚗𝚒𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚖𝚜, 𝚜𝚞𝚒𝚝𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚕𝚘𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚐𝚊𝚛𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚕𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚜 𝚊 𝚑𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚐𝚞𝚢 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚠𝚎𝚊𝚛 - 𝚊 𝚠𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚎 𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚖𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚏𝚞𝚗, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚋𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚒𝚝 𝚊 𝚖𝚊𝚐𝚒𝚌𝚒𝚊𝚗'𝚜 𝚋𝚘𝚡 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚜, 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚟𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚝𝚢 𝚘𝚏 𝚠𝚎𝚊𝚙𝚘𝚗𝚜. 𝚁𝚒𝚏𝚕𝚎𝚜, 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚝𝚐𝚞𝚗𝚜, 𝚋𝚕𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚜, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚔𝚊𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚊 𝚘𝚏 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜, 𝚖𝚊𝚢𝚋𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝙰𝚜𝚜𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚙𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚕𝚊𝚒𝚍 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚙𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚛𝚞𝚗 𝚒𝚗 - 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚛 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐.

"𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚋𝚎 𝚜𝚕𝚒𝚌𝚔 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚒𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚋𝚞𝚕𝚕𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚒𝚗, 𝚘𝚛 𝚜𝚗𝚎𝚊𝚔 𝚒𝚗. 𝙸𝚏 𝚗𝚎𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚜𝚗𝚎𝚊𝚔 𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔 𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚕, 𝚐𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚒𝚗." 𝙴𝚣𝚛𝚊 𝚜𝚊𝚒𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚊 𝚜𝚖𝚒𝚛𝚔, 𝚕𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚐𝚘 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚘𝚗 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚊 𝚖𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚊𝚜 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚠𝚘.

"𝚆𝚎 𝚐𝚘𝚝 𝚊 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚢 𝚜𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚟𝚊𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎, 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚠𝚒𝚜𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚕𝚕 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚛𝚒𝚍𝚎~" 𝙱𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚜 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚛 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚝.

[Eviledd1984]

@TrippyNightmare @Birdboy

Edward O’Connor

Edward Philip O’Connor

He looked a little disappointed that Ezra did not fully answer his questions. But seeing the racks of clothes and crates of weapons made him chuckle at the absurdity of the situation. Walking over towards one of the racks and looking through the outfits on offer. As he looked through the different outfits, a few he could choose to wear as a lark. One being a clown suit, another choice was a leather S&M outfit. However, choosing any of these outfits would make completing the mission impossible. Edward decided not to wear anything, instead deciding to sneak in using his clan’s discipline.

As for weapons, he took his time trying to find the right choice. He saw guns as too loud and would only draw attention. Katanas and swords would make him quite noticeable. His eyes focused on the knives and daggers inside the crate. Picking up a hunting knife that shone in the light of the room. Edward even caught his reflection in the metallic part of the knife. The image was of himself, but something was different. His eyes were bloodshot red, sporting a rictus grin that seemed to stretch past his cheeks and towards his ears. The image left Edward shaken, causing him to drop the knife on the floor. The image he saw, along with the thought of killing made him sick.

“Oops.” After calming himself down the scholar picked up the knife, and took a holster to hold his new weapon. He then turned towards Drake. “I used a bike to get here. But I guess we could take the van to get there. And we can discuss the plan on the drive over.”