[IC] The Blood Compact

[Grimoire Gaming]

The gray fox retreated into the woods, limping slightly on her left side. Once surrounded by the comforting serenity of the grand oaks and maples, Lady Mo collapsed against a trunk. In her exhaustion, Mohowauuck’s powers faded out and she shifted back into her vampire form. Yes, Lady Mo felt exhaustion, unlike many vampires, as her powers drained her physically and required an ample supply of human blood to sustain them. Mo’s body was naked, shrouded only by the eerie darkness. Her transformation wasn’t a magical one, it tore apart her clothing on the physical realm while her spirit soared between bodies. Lucky for Lady Mo, she was quite comfortable in her natural form, although other folks preferred that certain parts be covered up. Mo went to work gathering fallen leaves and growing grasses that she could use to stitch the leaves together. The process didn’t take long when you could commune with nature, and within minutes she had fashioned what looked like a nature-made bikini top and a skirt. The Lady looked down at her body, taking in the injuries she had sustained. Cuts and bruises from sword play and the like covered her back, stomach and legs, it seems the wolf hide couldn’t block out everything. Her arms got the worst of it, though, as her vine-like tattoos were marred with burns where the blue fire had kissed her. Much like the flora of the Earth, Mo was especially susceptible to fire, and the burns would take a while to heal – but they would heal. Even the pathetic human scientists knew that forest fires only help the forest grow back stronger than they were before – what then could fire do to the Mother of the Forests? Lady Mohowauuck held her head up high, broken but not beaten. Her legs brought her back out into the fight, tall and strong as she stood at her full height. “Lady Mo, are you uninjured?” Magnus called out to her from the battlefield. “Where the body fails, the spirit is strong. I’ve never been better.” She called out in reply, her loud voice being carried off by the fierce winds she’d still managed to keep up. Her throat burned for sustenance to maintain the storms, she need to go hunting soon. This oldblood had spent the majority of her immortal life immersed in battle, always fighting for her cause above all else. In war there were always victories and defeats, and she saw today’s battle for what it was: a defeat. Mo also knew this was just one battle in many; this war was far from over. The humans and their allies have advanced their putrid technologies in ways that gave them a certain edge compared to the oldbloods’ more traditional warfare. Traditional or not, the superior race would seize victory. Humans were a mistake of creation, meant to be replaced by the vampires as keepers of the Earth. This war would only be over once the humans found their rightful place – bowing at the feet of their vampire masters, kissing the very ground they walk upon – giving reverence to their gods.

[Shikaru]

Magnus used the darkness to his utmost advantage coupled with his speed. He ran through the battle, goring and feeding from foes madly. He caused many to kill their own allies when they saw the faint outline of his form run by. Pathetic, they were scared and un-able to even fight properly. Most of his newblood force had been struck down, but they did level the playing field and cripple the enemy quite well. His strength and speed surged as a massive amount of fresh blood coursed through his veins. The pathetic excuses of defenses the Purge used on their armor, the crucifixes, were mere annoyances to him. Neck straps may block newbloods from snapping their necks, but they were far from stopping the strength of an old blood, or from stopping a blade from going inbetween the joints. Magnus roared in a primal rage amongst a circle of dead bodies, at that moment a Purge member managed to hit him square in the chest, in the heart. But wait...Magnus simply grinned at the man and ripped the arrow out, but surely it pierced his heart? How was the beast not dead?. "Wha-How are you still alive?" The man said in fear, backing away. Magnus closed the distance in a mere few second, grabbing him by the throay and lifting him from the ground. "You could say I took the term heartless a little too literally." Magnus told him before crushing his throat and tossing him to the ground. The remaining few SOLDIER in the immediate area that witnessed the spectacle simply dropped their weapons and fled. Magnus commenced chase, cutting them down from behind, he licked the blood off his claws. In a mere 5 minutes Magnus had killed more Purge and SOLDIER than his newblood army, but of course, they were merely pawns in his little game of war. As was everyone else he had invited to join him, atleast, that is what he thought. He roared once more before recommencing the slaughter. --- By now Rhyss had swapped out his shotgun in favor of Grim and Reaper. Delivering shots that couldn't possibly be recovered from, heads exploding from the explosive rounds as the embedded themselves, chests turning into small craters. He fired at Purge and vampires alike, walking nearly calmly as could be through the fray. Slowly but surely Purge and the vampires realized there was a new target, and his name was Rhyss Blackblade. "I wondered when the hell you'd pay attention." He told them as they started focusing their fire and attacks on him, he ducked into a alley holstering his pistols and retrieving his staff from his back. He ran a bit further up the alleyway and hid in wait, a group of 6 surged after him. He shook his staff, blades appearing at the end dangling against the staff. As they grew near, he came out of cover assuming a kendo stance with the bladed end of the staff directly aimed towards the oncoming foes. He struck one down, smashing it's skull and what pathetic brain it had in it. Deftly swapping the blunt end he sweeped two off their feet, cutting ones head off and stomping on the other. The remaining three valued their lives more, they stared at each other as in saying 'let's get the fuck outta here' and ran. Rhyss didn't pursue, he simply retracted the blades on his staff and returned it to it's holster on his back alongside the Buster. He drew one pistol and proceeded to walk up the alley. He spotted three figures, he continued walking quietly. One he recognized as Mithias, the other two, quite obviously female, he didn't. He did, however, notice one was pointing her blade directly at Mithias. Holstering the pistol and drawing the Bunker Buster he took aim at the woman. "Now now, why don't we all calm down here and explain exactly what's going on? I may not be a genius woman, but you're not SOLDIER nor Purge. Lower the sword unless you want your friend to be wearing you." Rhyss told the woman.

[The Grey Dust]

Three times before it crows. The battle was not without its causalities, a necessary good for the lot of younglings killed. Such young ones offered no respect, not to old relics they have never even heard of. Such respect was lost in the new age of vampires, like inbreeding humans, they have lost true tenacity. Worthless as footmen incapable of killing even a single human by themselves. Even with their enhanced speeds and strength they had no tactical ability to use their numbers save for being like rats crawling over a giant. Would it be a human victory? Cockroaches which infested the earth are so difficult to kill. "Kill him then. You assume he is one of mine. But I assure you M'lady, I am in no ways attached to my wards." The raven retorted so nonchalantly. "If he were my ward, he would deserve such a death being caught like this once again, he must enjoy living at death's doorstep." Hopefully it was clear enough that Mithias was not from the same stock as Bedivere. The young vampire had seemed to managed to always get himself into some dire straits. One would think fate had a fate far worse than he than this. But just as Bedivere was going to address the kinslayer, femme fatale, from the fading life of his perch, did Gabriel speak. "I was wondering when you would get bored of playing at the table to come join us you Old Coder, Gabriel. But it seems you are not eve going to give us the honor of your actually presence. But please, you and I both know Lord Shane had truly underestimated the situation. Tipping the odds in our favour requires the elders, and I am afraid it is a very long flight back to Britainnia, with the five hour time change." A joke perhaps, given that Bedivere needs not to use the flight of men to travel between the nations. Yet, there was a truth within the dark humor of the dark lord, as though it was night here, it would soon become morningtide in the U.K. By the breaking of dawn, it would better to be in homesoil than be fighting the futile battle. More information was needed however still, and reconnaissance was needed before another strike. To cast a long shadow would be best, from a very distant place. With the fading of Gabriel's puppet, another man appeared, suddenly armed and questioning the young vampire to explain. Too many interruptions, the Raven morphed back into the form of a man, well rather the vampire of a man, as Bedivere took to his humanoid form. "I am afraid there is little to explain. One battle is far from anything to be concerned about." Dressed in his business suit and bowler, umbrella tucked underneath an arm, he opened his black briefcase to procure an earth-soiled tomahawk, slightly rusted but still considerably beautiful as an antique. "I had intended to add this into my collection, however it would be more use to you than I as of now. Show it to the right person, and perhaps you will gain yourself a temporary ally as she should know the significance of this little axe. The Purge after all is the common enemy here, dare I say that the SOLIDER should not take their extremism so lightly, nor should you M'lady, for they too will kill your ward and perhaps even worse, deprive you of the vengeance you so desire... Catch." With a simple sudden toss, hatchet became a whirling blade soaring at Mithias who should have reacted rather quickly to avoid an axe to his chest. Though similarly, in such an event, it would also allow Mithias a non-hostile reason to make an action to save his neck from being swiftly cut by the Kinslayer's blade and distance himself away from it. After all, one does not use a prized antique tomahawk which had been buried for two centuries so lightly as a means to kill someone. No something like that belongs in a museum... "I bid you all, a good evening." With that, Lord Bedivere seemed to fade into the darkness surrounding him, as his form almost melted into the night. Even old vampires must rest.

[Wraithblade6]

Mithias' brow furrowed dangerously as Rebecca slew the recovering newblood. In his eyes that vampire could have been spared. Rebecca was a blatant murderer and contract breaker, regardless of her affiliation. He glared at her angrily as she delivered a brief, venomous rant about her reasoning, finishing with her point at his throat. One death was already enough for one night. Yet the raven answered for him, albeit phrased differently than Mithais would have preferred. No, of course this lowly, SOLDIER scumbag, who couldn't go five minuts without finding himself in another pathetically dire situation, wasn't in his service. Yet Lord Bedivere did not elaborate on their status any further than that. That was when the decapitated head started talking. Everyone present were immediately distracted, yet Rebecca maintained vigil on Mithias. The latter seemed to be listening intently to the severed head, obediently remaining where he was. He didn't seem nearly as surprised as the rest of them at the fading monologue. He and Bedivere had figured out who was speaking, and the message was clear. Purge were coming, and Gabriel was not too pleased with the two girls. Practically ignoring the point at his neck, Mithias glanced up as Bedivere spoke. ... did he just refer to Gabriel as an 'old codger?' ...but more than that, Mithias had discovered the name of the vampire rebel leader. "Lord Shane?" He paused. "Magnus Shane. So that is who leads the vampire army." He looked back to the furious redhead. "Kinslayer. It's true this vampire is not my lord. I do not even know his name. He is my enemy, and yet, even so, he aided me this night, and I have aided you. It's called chivalry. I'm sorry you are unfamiliar with it." Rhyss announced his uncanny arrival from the back of a 'Bunker Buster.' Given Bedivere, Gabriel, the mostly exterminated newbloods, and Rhyss, Mithias was now beginning to look like Rebecca and Camille's closest friend. The sight of Rhyss' SOLDIER uniform probably gave Bedivere the signal to depart, as he did so tactfully. "... Catch." His right blade secured to his side, Mithais was already three feet away from Rebecca's point with a 200-year-old tomahawk in his now free right hand and moving. Simultaneously, as the Kinslayer even began to flinch into her first move, the titanium blade in Mithias' left hand beat hard against her weapon, disrupting her action and forcing her blade aside. He was no longer under immediate threat. Out of the corner of his eye, Mithias say Rhyss take aim. "HOLD Rhyss!" He called loudly, standing now a more comfortable distance from Rebecca. Thankfully, no guns were fired. Still bearing a look of consternation, the golden-eyed vampire spoke to the girls. "That's quite an interpretation of vampirism, Kinslayer. Your sire certainly knew how to make a monster." He looked as cold as his words. Finally, his head tilted away somewhat, lessening the tension as he beheld her and Camille. "I am Mithias. I am sorry for your past, but we cannot take the time to deliberate philosophy here. The Pruge are headed this way, and you're a vampire. I suggest you come with Rhyss and me. We will be likely to escape together. What say you?"

[Rusalka]

Twas not for sure what gleamed sharper, The way the woman's eyes were cut towards the vampire or the long, slender blade that was drawn with ill intent towards his gullet, soon Varomere to meet a fate equal of the ravenous, feral fledgling she so mercilessly executed before their ever astounded eyes to her inane brutality, equal to that of the Purge perhaps, yet lacking the Judea-Christian Dogma upon which their virtues were built strong as a fortress. The woman carried neither belief in a supreme, ethereal being or a pantheon of such. Religion, it was an institution of mortals and quite so an abhorrence of damned creatures such as...no...even if she was, she refused fervently to count herself among the horrors of the undead....as hypocritical as it sounded. Varomere, even without the evidence, the sheer wrinkling of his brow, Rebecca could sense his displeasure in her killing the newblood. Of course, leave it to even a noble creature as he to show sympathy towards his adversaries while the embittered red-haired woman gave no quarter at all. He wished to keep this one alive, that much she could tell, and for such her temporary ally in combat became yet again her sworn enemy, though to the protest of her own youngblood standing nervously by, her soft eyes flickering to and fro, from the vicious woman back to the snarling man, to....the severed head of the newblood...speaking?! Their attention turned to the sentient, reanimated piece of flesh, still moving its jaw even after the nerves were cut away, speaking with such an ill voice that grabbed the woman by her ear, yet her eyes brimming with shadows remaining affixed and slit towards her blade's intended target. The words it spoke were simple, death was approaching in the fearsome guise of not a writhing corpse cloaked in ragged, tattered robes but in glistening, blood stained steel plates, in cuirasses, greaves, gauntlets and helms, riding upon not steeds of flesh and bone, but still horses belching fire and brimstone from their gaping, hellish jaws. And how amusing the name belonging to this peculiar yet alarming voice was Gabriel, warning of modern crusaders in their endeavors to take back their Holy Land. Nevertheless Rebecca heeded the warnings, despite the condescending bite upon the dead one's lips towards her dear servant. Camille merely acknowledged with a sharp, sudden gasp of hair and covered her own lips quivering so. .....or perhaps that was towards the other male who blundered into the scene, drawing the modern equivalent of a blunderbuss to her mistress's head, "Mistress Rebecca!!!" "Relinquish that firearm, now nave!!" Rebecca was already upon him, her hand stretched out towards his chest, or rather her claws as the nails upon her fingers extended and darkened as finely honed obsidian shards, and what else but the shadows snaking about her flesh, black, hungry serpents ready to strike with searing venom at this new assailant. "Do so or from your chest I shall pluck your beating heart." She snarled to the SOLDIER seizing her at gunpoint. So many distractions, so many trivial conversations all being carried simultaneously. Twas a miracle neither were in the grasp of a swarm already, that of more feral newbloods or perhaps the extremists too busy rebuking demons from God's Green Earth, as were told to be cresting the hilltop any moment now. At least something came along to break the monotony, the whistle of the hatchet zipping mere inches past her cheek and into the hand of Varomere, the cold of his blade striking away her own and that of his bitter, chilling farewell with frosted eyes to boot, calling down such insult upon the woman, comparing her....to them. "Chivalry...you speak as though I know not such a word, or rather the virtue tied to it. Chivalry is only capable of the chivalrous, Sir Varomere, and here you are speaking ill of a woman only dedicated to her righteous cause. Hmph! Such chivalry you display indeed my fair knight. And one more thing, Varomere, or is it Mithias I should call you. I can't expect to do so, seeing as you and I are far from even mere acquaintances, as far as the old adage goes to your monstrously outlandish quip of anger, it takes one to know one." As equally cold as the treatment received from the Vampire Mithias, she turned her shoulder away from the man skulking away with his SOLDIER companion, in time to witness the raven now a man, or rather the form of man, prim and proper, expected of the more haughty and sophisticated elders. He bid all ado and into the shadows he submerged, gone...without a trace. Let him leave, Rebecca assumed, for later on in the persistence of time she would cross paths with the elder Bedi again, and let him escape, she would not. Besides...there was the Lord Magnus Shane, the perpetrator of these foul crimes this most unsaintly evening. "I'd rather not rile you further, Varomere, so I shall take my leave as well before we are at each others throats again. Come Camille, we must depart." The Purge were strong indeed, but mortals they were, and no mortal, despite how strong in will and fervor he or she was...could resist her sensual charms. The young thrall nodded, yet was hesitant with her response, "I-I...ummm...I...y-y-yes mistress! I'll...umm...I'll be right there!" Before she returned to her lady's side, there was a matter that needed to be settled, that of her beloved sire's outburst. "W-wait! Mithi- I..I mean Mister Varomere!" Frail hands with dainty, small fingers reached out for Mithias' casually dangling arm and latched onto him, pulling him back slightly towards the girl, standing there with reddened cheeks and eyes heavy with remorse, "I...I-I'm really sorry about my mistress. She's just angry, that's all...I'm sure if we meet again, she'll be nicer. Please, you have to forgive her. We're vampires too. We just...well...we kill...other vampires." Her tiny, round shoulders scrunched close to her skinny neck and she looked away from Mithias' gilded gaze, averting her eyes seeming to glisten with tears towards the lightly scorched grass crunching under her timidly shuffling feet. "B-but please! No matter how angry she is...even...even if she tries to kill you...don't kill her! Be...because I...I love her." "Camille come! We've no time to dally, my dear." "Y-yes mistress! I'm sorry!" And just as hastily she ran back to the woman, following beside her as they made their way back through the desolate alley to their vehicle. Once more she felt the comfort of her lady's arm wrap around her and pull her close, the vengeful shadows receding and letting forth shine the almost heavenly glow of the woman's porcelain complexion. "My sweet, I....." And her voice, it was the same Camille yearned to hear once more, the sweet whisper that was not rasp and ragged with anger and malice, but lulling...oh so lulling, yet..it carried a hint of remorseful solace, as she paused for a sigh. "I do hope that you can forgive my brash behavior earlier. To lash out at those who aided you and I...it was barbaric. Truly this urge has consumed me more than my inherent thirst for blood." The girl, a bad habit of hers, she chewed at her bottom lip before murmuring a reply, turning in the woman's arms to face her, to see those demure blue eyes staring deeply and understandably into her own, "N-no mistress...what I mean is, yes. Yes I do for..forgive you for earlier. You were just mad. It's totally understandable for you to be so angry, but even so..... And in that instant, she threw her own arms around her lady and embraced her, showered her dear mistress with every ounce of affection her body, soul and heart could give in that one frail moment, "Even...even if revenge consumes your heart, and you lose touch with all emotions, joy, rapture, passion...and love... it will not matter to me, because...I will always be yours, Rebecca...yours alone." "Sweetheart....." Rebecca leaned closer to her beloved and soon the arms she had wrapped around her darling Camille pulled her ever more close, the two wrapped in a lover's embrace, finding comfort and solace amidst the warmth of their tightly entangled bodies, their two hearts now beating as one in unison with a perfect rhythm to sooth their weary souls. The loving hug was capped off with a kiss to those darling little lips as Rebecca found the strength yet again to smile warmly to the girl and brush her fingers gently through her cerulean locks, "Let us return home. The battle is won here, but...I fear more shall come to pass, as tomorrow we find this Lord Magnus...and put an end to this travesty. Besides...you look tired my love." "A...a little sleepy." Lightly the girl returned the weary smile before resting her head against Rebecca's shoulder and closing her eyes, almost purring pleasantly at the feeling of her lady's hand sifting over her hair, the tender touch lulling her into a gentle rest but also a bit of yearning for the woman. Ah...but that could wait for another night, pray that one be peaceful.

[thewizardguy]

As Magnus moved through the darkened streets of Kilo Point, he reached into the minds of those around him, visions blurring their attacks, bolts striking far from their marks. And yet, even as he directed his own visions, he found something wrong. For the minds of the Purge he touched were already broken. The religious fervour in their eyes as they swung their blades and fired their Repeating Crossbows was revealed for what it was - what it always had been. Insanity. Cultivated, shaped, carefully applied. Like the hammer of a sculptor, carefully chipping away at the spirit. A process of indoctrination, a play of hope and lies, a continuous decent into extremism. It was a psychological weapon, applied by a master of manipulation, not simply through words but with emotions and visuals. Every moment of despair, every moment of happiness, everything was channeled into this unending devotion, this unbreakable faith, this.... obedience. Not truly faith in the conventional sense, but the trappings of it. Faith honed into a weapon, capable of overriding every human instinct, of shattering even the sense of self preservation. The scene of their minds was solid, it was straight as an arrow. Unbending, unerring, forged steel. It was not bravery that prevented those poor fools from fleeing, but the incapability to feel fear. It was reminiscent of Muslim extremism, but cultivated solely for the purpose of war. The perfect tool to turn men into weapons. And it worked. Even as blades entered their ribs, even as their brains started shutting down, even as pain would have crippled even the most valorous of men, they kept fighting. Mid-death, they still slashed at him, torsos grabbing his legs even after being separated from their lower halves. The slain stood once more, hearts cleaved from their chests, lungs burst, their last breaths spent facing their enemies. That hidden potential of the mind, that capability unlocked only in the most desperate of moments. Through this weapon, they had channelled, perhaps, the full human potential. Even to an Oldblood, the sight of the mostly dead still fighting was unnerving, and as Magnus found his feet held in place by those he would trample underfoot, he was snagged more than once by a passing blade. Even as his blade dug deep into a man's heart, powered by his increased strength, the man stabbed at him, his own sword nearly impaling the Oldblood. Those behind him simply stood up, walking towards him to the best of their ability, organs already falling out, simply waiting for their brain to die. This, was the true power of the Purge, when fully enraged.

[Wraithblade6]

A soft breeze carried the scent of fire and car exhaust through the ally. Mithias listened to Rebecca call him out before deparing, her fervent glare affixed on him cautiously until she was certain he wasn't going to stop her. He wasn't. he had a strong feeling they would meet again. Lingering, the shy Camille unexpectedly reached for him, and in response he stopped, allowing her to latch onto his arm like a winsome little sister. She had been disturbed by the conflict and was apologetic. Yet, in her eyes, Mithias could see a deeper dilemma, that of who she was and what she was, and an intense need for the one she loved. There was so much she didn't yet understand. Her pleas rung his heart like a bell and he inwardly winced. "I know." He replied softly and cupped his hand behind her head to bring her close to him briefly. He knew exactly how much Camille loved her maker. Rebecca called again and he released Camille with the few words of wisdom he could find at the moment. "It doesn't matter what you are, Camille. All that matters, is what you do with what you are given. I know you and your mistress have truly suffered, but I fear that if the Kinslayer is unable to let go of her hate, then she and I will cross blades again. Now go." As the girl hurried, Mithias looked back to the gruffly amused jackass known as Rhyss. "Purge are coming. We need to getour of here immediately." With strange tomahawk in hand, Mithias picked up the pace and passed his SOLDIER ally, moving to where his senses directed him was quiet. As he did, he considered... what was that little speach he had just given to Cami? He was reminded of his own father and the hatred and prejudice that he had harbored against him. It had kept them apart oh so many years. Mithias owed him immeasurably, and now he realized that it was time he followed his own advice. It also occurred to him, that if Gabriel could speak through the mouth of a puppet, then he could also listen. All Mithias would have to do, would be to speak to a potential puppet while Gabriel was reading its mind. Was it possible that Gabriel had always been there, watching through others eyes all this time? Mithias scoffed at himself as he ran over the rooftops with Rhyss. Even if he had underestimated his father, he shouldn't flatter himself. His life was not all that interesting. He'd feel rather silly attempting to put his theory to the test. Running through the city, occasionally over rooftops, it seemed the two had cleared out just in time. They managed to get to a clearing, adjacent to the woods, yet not far from the base itself. Mithias slowed to a walk and looked behind him to his peer, his long black hair settling down the front of his shoulders. "Rhyss, I haven't heard anything from the general. I presume him dead. SOLDIER can't defeat either of these two armies, and Kami no Kage is here as well. We need to form a temporary alliance with the vampires and destroy the Purge. Vampires cannot wipe out humans, but the Purge would do so all too eagerly to vampires. They are the greater threat."

[Shikaru]

Matt waited until the roars of battle dimmed down a bit, sure he was trained. But without the aide of vampiric sight or NVG's he was practically useless in this fight, and he had no plans to die in a unnaturally dark alleyway at the hands of either a pyschopath with a machinegun-like bow or a shitty newblood. He waited until then to slip un-noticed through the alleyways, the twists and turns, off in the distance he could hear roaring. He went in the opposite direction, trying his best to not let his nature get a hold of him. He grabbed the radio on his chest and spoke into it "If anyone can hear this, this is Gen-Matt..I suffered a minor wound of a arrow scraping my arm but I am more or less un-harmed. I'm making my way into the forest to find cover until backup can arrive. I instruct all alive members to do the same. Matt out". He continued on his way, carefully, making as little noise as possible. Scared? No. Not dumb as a brick? Yes. ---- Rhyss held his fire, and simply sneered at the woman that dared to threaten him. Of course, he could have just as easily blown her head clean off at the range she chose to stand to him, but then again this woman was the almighty 'Kinslayer'. He decided to wait it out so he leaned the gun against his shoulder and watched the conversation finish itself. "Purge? Yeah I shot a few of those assholes on my way to here. Platemail doesn't do much for bullets." Rhyss told him as they were running across the rooftops. "That Kinslayer, quite the...interesting one isn't she?" He told him with a amused look, it was evident in Mithias' expression that he liked the woman, yet said nothing. Once they stopped in the middle of the clearing Mithias told him about the Purge and the fabled assassin, "Personally as far as the Purge goes I say I can just shoot all of the jackasses myself, then again, I'm more of a 'Shoot it to bits before it shoots me' than a tactician. So, I'll trust your judgement on this." Rhyss told him. "As for the General, I'd have no clue where he was either. Only thing they gave me was a name, Matt Thyne I believe..." Rhyss shrugged "Either way, how do you propose these vampires will stop and listen to either of us?" --- Magnus grimaced at the /slightly/ unnerving sight of the corpses raising up to kill him once more. "Well then, I guess I'll have a bit more fun and kill you as many times as it takes before you go down. Let's have some more fun then, shall we?" Magnus said with a laugh, setting upon them in a whirlwind of claws and teeth, he'd rip them into shreds if need be. A few struck him in the chest where his heart should have been, but their blades nor arrows found their mark, his heart long gone and hidden where none would find it. Once he was sure this little zombie army was dead he sat on the back of one, to rest of sorts. He was sure more would come by soon, him having killed their comrades in the immediate area he was standing, he'd simply wait for them to arrive and pounce on them when they did.

[thewizardguy]

With every droning step, a new corpse was crushed, painting the plate mail boots black with the blood of the fallen. Skulls and chests were burst beneath their march, as they stepped through the corpses that now piled the streets. Vampire abominations, SOLDIER scum, and more than once their own comrades. It did not matter. Those that had fallen would be rewarded in the afterlife, those that were yet to fall would give their lives gladly, for the cause of purity. A Platoon marched through the streets, the houses echoing with the sound of their ringing steps. As one, they hymmed, a deep tune that carried through the air like a foreboding wind. Lines of warriors, standing side by side, blade by blade. Each had one another's back, each was prepared to die. Nearly 50 men marched througb tight passageways, blades extended, ultraviolet visors active, finding their way by the slight radioation still given off by the corpses of the fallen. Over a trail of blood they walked. On their way, their were several who would attempt to break their lines, lone vampires and SOLDIER vigilantes, only to meet a wall of blades and death. This city would be purged of all evil, even if it were unwilling. The place where moments before the vampires had gathered was empty, as the Platoon of Crusaders marched into the square. Still this place reeked of abominations, but there was nothing to fight, none were left to kill. They were the last of the Purge Crusaders in the city, those that still lived after all the violence. And yet, as they marched down the next street, they were no more dangerous for it. It seemed there was but one vampire left of import in the city. Radio broadcasts would place him somewhere ten minutes ahead of the platoon. As one, they marched, blades raised, Baptizers loaded and ready. Stake guns were discarded in favour of alternate weaponry, plucked from the bodies that so littered the floor. As a wall of steel, adorned with thorns of silver, the Crusaders marched, their battle hymns preceding them. This night, they would kill Magnus, leader of the vampire armies.

[Grimoire Gaming]

Lady Mo was more strategic in her fighting now, staying alert and defensive in order to save her energy. The battle had losses on both sides, and it looked about time for the fighting to end, as many of the strongest warriors scattered to destinations unknown. Mohowauuck retreated closer to the treeline, fending off the relentless Purge fighters that still pursued her. Mo thrust her hand up through the crook in the crusader's armor, right under his chin, her claw-like fingers slicing through the flesh like butter. The last man actively attacking her fell to his knees before her, blood gushing out of eyes and mouth as he choked on it, his tongue now suffocating him. "That's right, kneel!" Lady Mohowauuck said the last word in a feral snarl. Her words swelled with power, and pride. She then swiftly kicked the man in his head, causing him to tumble backwards to his inevitable demise. She cast her earthly blue-green eyes upward to see two vampires heading out from the woods. She squinted at them, gauging if these vampires were comrades or enemies, and that's when she spotted the tomahawk. She remembered the meeting prior to this battle, and how the vampire lord had mentioned wanting her to appraise a similar artifact. Mo narrowed her eyes, this didn't seem to be coincidental, what happened to the collector that he should have lost a piece such as this to a lesser man? Lady Mohowauuck stormed over to the long dark-haired fellow, handsome or not, he would face her judgement. All would face her judgement, in time. "How did you get that?" she barked at him, her eyes making it obvious to what item she was speaking of.

[Wraithblade6]

Both Rhyss and Mithias heard the broadcast from General Matt on the master channel. So the human leader was in fact alive, and he informed them that some kind of backup would be arriving. Although they were already at the forest, both vampire likely doubted much of their cohort would be retreating to join them. Mithias picked up his communicator. "General. I'm glad you're alive. Tell the SOLDIER fighters to focus on the Purge. I'm going try to convince the vampires to assist us." Movement against the backdrop of black, silhouetted trees drew Mithias' attention, and he hung up his com. "Rhyss. We have company." A vampiress just tore apart a Purge warrior and was heading right for them in an offensive manor. Mithias had momentarily forgotten about the Native American relic in his belt and drew his vampire-specific weapons and faced her. "How did you get that?" She barked. Bedivere's words recalled to his mind as he realized she was looking at the tomahawk. "Show it to the right person, and perhaps you will gain yourself a temporary ally... She should know the significance of this little axe." She. Well, this was a she, and it could serve him no better than to broach the subject of an alliance with her right now. Seeing as how he woman vampire stopped momentarily to consider the multitude of ways she might rip his head off after she got by his swords and Rhyss' guns, Mithias made a move. "It was given to me." He said truthfully as he returned one of his weapons and pulled out the old axe. "Catch." He tossed it to her more gently than it had last been tossed. "I gain nothing by killing you right now, vampire. We both have bigger problems. The Purge is our common enemy, and I would much rather they not walk away from this battle the final victors. Help us defeat them." Of course, even after an alliance, SOLDIER and the Vampires would be left to deal with each other. Their agendas still conflicted. Mithias knew he could never fully trust the rebels.

[Grimoire Gaming]

Lady Mo swiftly caught the hatchet as it zipped through the air. Her fingers gripped the shaft as she spun it around her hand in an intimidating flourish. "It would do you good to never draw a weapon against me again, unless you have a death wish." She said as she pointed the hatchet at Mithias' vampire-specific weapon belt. The hatchet glowed slightly in her hands as she looked down at it again. With one hand on the wooden shaft and the other on the stone edge, Mo whispered in a language unknown to the vampires before her. Wood and minerals are of the Earth, and as such they have spirits and thought, for those who care enough to listen. The hatchet told the tale of its passing from hand to hand. In it's early days it caused bloodshed and horror, only later to be shared in times of smoke and peace. Lady Mo also saw it's passing from Bedivere to Mithias. Lady Mohowauuck opened her eyes and glared at Mithias with scrutiny. "You wish to foster a temporary peace with us?" she asked in a tone colored with suspicion and doubt. Even though she had seen that this is what Lord Bedivere wanted too, she couldn't shake the feeling of unease. "You cowards who fight alongside lesser beings and slay your own kin, you of so little worth wish to fight beside true greatness?" Mo held onto the hatchet tightly as she spoke. "I'm going to have to think on this ridiculous offering of peace... and I'm keeping this." she said, gesturing to the hatchet.

[The Grey Dust]

It was time to slumber. Hours away, deep below, Bedivere rested in a font of dark water. While in the night his powers were supreme, in daylight he was no more than human. Being baptized in the dark waters would allow him to converse his strength and return to the night as its ruler. None knew the location of Camelot, due to Merlin's meddling and thus no one knew where Bedivere retreated from the day. Back in the states, he had found himself a residential building to draw water through the bath pipes to create his portal. He sank into the cold waters to emerge in even colder depths before returning to his watery coffin at Camelot. The order was given out to research the Purge and the limits of their technology, and more of a directive was to search out information of Varomere, the vampire as he noticed across the younger's chest displayed. Between the supernatural underworld and the British Intelligence, something was bound to appear by the stroke of next dusk. Thus into a deep restorative sleep did Bedivere sink.

[Wraithblade6]

Mithias waited patiently while Lady Mo examined the artifact. Her arrogance was not unexpected. Pride plagued vampire kind like a curse. The old adage that power corrupts never rang more true than among immortal kind. Mithias glanced past Lady Mo to the horizon where the sky was beginning to brighten. "The night ends." He said, indicating that dawn would be upon them soon. "It's too late. The vampires will retreat with the darkness, leaving the Purge to occupy Kilo Point. SOLDIER's reinforcements will arrive tomorrow to deal with them. This battle will be between the mortals, yet I fear they may come to terms that are not to our benefit. Humans simply do not fight so hard for the sake of vampires than for the sake of their own kind. I'm afraid the burden falls to us to ensure our own survival." Mithias looked stoically at Mo. "How many of you are there left?"

[thewizardguy]

'Slaughter of Kilo Point: First Sign of Revolt'? So read the headline of the papers Mathew had opened, as he scanned the article. His own connections had already gathered information on the case, of course - a skirmish of such size could not occur without drawing the attention of his employees. The mobilization of the Purge had also been mentioned to him, and he had suspected that this might happen. Rumours stolen from the heart of SOLDIER, however, would suggest that this newspaper was far closer to the truth than one might think. With the presence of that many Oldbloods, there was no doubt in his mind that something was going on. A revolt? Maybe. However, if the vampires were making a move, he would definitely need to get involved - he had stakes in this war, after all. And whether some might not realize it yet, everyone did. "Lucy, bring me my coffee, and a list of my British connections. I have a man I need to track down." [Yes sir, coffee will arrive in 32 seconds] A list of figures appeared on his screen, businessmen and scoundrels, from both sides of the market. Britain, as the world's only real vampire nation, would be caught in the middle of this. Furthermore, there was a certain figure in Britain that had interested Mathew for some time now. The Collector. Whilst on the surface he seemed nothing more than an unusually secretive collector, as the name would imply, his identity and estates could be traced to several earlier aliases, in a consistent line that goes back to before the existence of bureaucracy itself. Several of these aliases were vampires, although all of them were considered death. It was a solid ruse, but after careful investigation of the trade lines, estate ownership and possessions, they always moved on to the next alias. The Collector was not the only vampire to move from alias to alias by far, over the history of the world this had become a rather well known technique. What was more unique, however, was how thoroughly he had hidden the trails. The transfer of estate had usually occurred through several travels, moving through the underworld as well as through legal documentations. Trade partners were rapidly exchanged with different members, who would then seem to naturally grow into business partners with the new alias. Tracking down the collector's true identity was impossible, all Mathew could do was speculate on the origin of this line. And when somebody could hide information that he couldn't get to, even with his more clandestine connections, it sparked an interest. Several individuals who had been associated with either the Collector or previous aliases, mostly paid through black market methods, straight in cache, or through previously left documents at several secure locations, had been discovered. Amusingly enough, this time it had been them trying to gain information from Mathew's own favorite connections, rumourmongers and businessmen who knew the value of knowledge. Supposedly, they were looking for information on the Purge, which indicated that the Collector was involved with the battle at Kilo Point somehow, either directly or indirectly. In war, the best business proposals are born. "Send a message to the people of the Collector. Give him my business number, I'd like to have a chat with him. He's Brittish, so I'll be expecting him rather soon. Anyone who gives him any information outside of the approved list is to be removed from the payroll, and to be placed on the.... Black List." [I will forward the message, sir.] "Thank you Lucy, what would I do without you?" Smiling, Mathew took out a cigarette and lighter. Not the cheap knockoffs. A genuine cigar, in the oldfashioned style. A classic. Anything that was worth doing, was worth doing in style.

[The Grey Dust]

The Collector. He was not a vampire. And yet he was a vampire. He was never one man. Yet always was one. An alias in business. A name in trade. A mark in history. A timeless title. Amassing a fortune was of no small means. Through the centuries blood was split and money was earned. Old money, long and ancient hoarded from the great splendors of Rome. From the silken path to the wicked triangle, from the pillage of nations to the rise of steel. Wealth was certainly an object which the Collector preyed upon, like a vampire thirsts for blood. With wealth came the bounty of things afforded, the market was but a plaything for one so richly ancient. But men had their vices, all did, and those who longed to fill the role of the Collector would be granted such. For The Collector was, a human unmistakably, in wanton lust after material goods in their short life. Each man claiming the several estates left by their aptly named predecessors. Men of money, they sought to win the title and the inheritance of the last, accumulating in the generational fortunes which rose through both above and below. Yet they all missed the truth behind the curtains as the real collection was neither located in any of the mansions and manors scattered throughout Britannia, nor in great caches anywhere else in the world. The greatest of these treasures were kept at Camelot where the one true collector slumbered submerged in the sacred halls. From this spot he moved the nation: the sleeping puppeteer. The most current incarnation of the Collector however, was an older gentleman who was a placeholder for the genuine article, dressed crisply in a business suit not unlike the one Bedivere wore. He too was pale, and bore a head of white hair like wisps across his dome receding. This was the public figure of The Collector, a face of humanity to assume the guise of man. With the rotations of a few placated humans more than wiling to sell themselves out for a life of luxury, Bedivere had created himself a puppet and created himself a puppet. A faux effigy to contact, a conduit of business, and it was he who served as the associate-guised patron in the shadows. So perfect was the ruse that not even the Collector himself knew who the real man behind him was. The only rule was to never question the invisible man, especially at night. By the time his coffee cooled, Mathew would have already had a call for him. Information worked both ways, and as little Mathew knew, as too did Bedivere cared. Although certain this would change, and the human could become a potential threat. But did Mathew not think for a moment that the greatest collection of all was not of tangible objects? Surely a man of his intellect could surmise that a being called the Collector, if he assumed he was a long lived vampire surviving under multiple aliases, kept at least a few tabs on men such as himself? Or was he that naïve to believe himself untouchable? Humans were after all, easily controlled, just as he used his men, so too did the other chess masters at the table. It would almost be offending for Bedivere not to have at least note of the man's potential, as a corporate peer may on another. It was a path most interesting that the two would now meet on. "Hello, dare I ask who is looking for me?" A voice on the other end of the line greeted Mathew, an accent clearly identifying though the registered number belonged to the Collector's London Estate to eliminate the need for confirmation. "Mathew Stone was it? Did we have business together? I'm afraid my memory is not quite what it used to be and my people hadn't the foggiest of the details, what was it you needed?"

[thewizardguy]

"Beautiful, I appreciate your promptness" Mathew took a sip of his coffee, as he absentmindedly typed in commands to his secondary computer, already tracing the call to it's origin point. It had been scrambled, of course, bounced to multiple network services that would shut down and interchange, creating an almost untraceable signal. The very element of secrecy, and mere fuel for the fire of Mathew's curiosity. "May I assume that I'm speaking to the Collector, or at least someone with the capability to make an arrangement with him? I have a rather important business proposal to make, and I'd rather speak directly to the man." He wasn't on a phone, of course. He simply spoke through his computer's microphone, which was attached to his earpiece.

[The Grey Dust]

"One in the same son. What business proposal do you have for me?" The call traced from a large private estate just right outside of London west side. Identifiable on a satellite map rather clearly through the fenced high walls and privacy of box hedges. A quite spacious use of land to store some antiques, although let not the fancy topiary garden and decorative fountains fool anyone into thinking the place was at all rustic. An advance security system was set in place to monitor visitors and guests who came in and out of the grounds to prevent would be thieves from entering as noted by local permits and building records. The manor which stood upon its ground was clearly styled in a late-Victorian setting with its balconies and ledges, although it was one of the imitation buildings which was constructed in relatively modern times. The real jewel was the Welsh Estate as a real historically built house, although that merely a historical landmark bought by the last few Collectors and maintained for the state using his funds. Though for the sake of business the London Manor was more convenient, and perhaps inviting important guests and associates peruse his toys, the estate did come with its own private helipad for quickened travel. "Hello, dare I ask who is looking for me? Did we have business together? I'm afraid my memory is not quite what it used to be and my people hadn't the foggiest of the details, what was it you needed?" The old man calling himself The Collector repeated himself absent-mindly as he had no idea he had already said those very words seconds earlier. "Mathew Stone is it? I think I've heard of you lad, come on down for natter then if you have time to meet, I'm afraid my memory is not quite what it used to be and my people hadn't the foggiest of the details." Fortunately a sheet in front of the octogenarian gave him some semblance of knowing who it is he was talking to without having to ask the man over and over again. That was probably the closet thing to an invite Mathew would be able to get from an old man with advanced Alzheimer's. Then again, would the Old man even remember inviting the younger man down to visit and chat business? In truth someone beyond him was taking care of the business transactions and estates, a silent partner maybe who could be managing the grounds. It would be something after all to imagine this man waking up every morning and forgetting he lived in this place.

[Wraithblade6]

The battle was over. The renegade vampire army had been destroyed, causing the handful of powerful oldbloods who had participated to vanish from the scene of the crime, erasing their names behind them in embarrassment as they went. Magnus Shane was never seen nor heard from again, but it had only been a number of weeks since the battle. The suspicion was that the rebel vampire lord wasn't dead, but rather hiding. He was national enemy number one this year... and probably for the rest of this century. The Purge enjoyed a temporary but false victory as they took over the SOLDIER outpost. They didn't hold it long before SOLDIER convinced them to turn themselves in for arrest. Humans always had the favor of the law. Even frank murder didn't necessarily get them capital punishment. The Purge extremists would likely be let out on bail or fined heavily if they managed to escape jail. Unlike vampires, a human was weak. They could be captured and arrested, held in prison, tried, and forced to serve their sentence. Vampires were always treated with a heavier hand, due to obvious necessity. They were difficult to capture alive, difficult even to kill, and imprisoning them was fraught with complications. That is why SOLDIER relied on their Elite agents so. The general was nothing less than shocked and appalled when Varomere, one of their oldest and most effective elite agents, unexpectedly walked in and resigned. As a contracted agent, it was his right to quit, and besides, SOLDIER had no way of compelling a 700 year old vampire to stay. When questioned about his reasons, he had said only that the battle at Kilo Point had changed him, that he had nearly died, and that he intended to find the vampire that had saved his life. Before leaving however, Mithais had made the most of his clearances as an elite agent and had researched a number of vampires believed to have been involved in Kilo Point. He looked up the legendary vampire of the native American peoples, Mohowauuck, who's white wolf form was unmistakable. Magnus, who had a long record of brutality and insanity interspersed between periods of quiescence or inactivity in world history. The Kinslayer was more difficult to find, probably because she was given "low priority." In recent times she wasn't known to have any vampire accomplices, so Camille must have been young. Searches of British vampires were exhaustive. Much to Mithias' surprise, "Bedi" seemed to be a ridiculously common name. Godforsaken Brits... The connection to the old tomahawk came to mind, and Mithias found it very curious why the white-haired old raven would have had it on him in the middle of a warzone. He could have been a collector of artifacts... but that explanation seemed so much less likely than that he was banging Lady Mo. The simplest answer was usually the best. Mithias sighed and put that search aside for the time being. And speaking of wanton sex, the list of individual accounts of humans who claim to have slept with the "old codger" Gabriel was gigabytes long. After realizing that this information was over 50% of his father's SOLDIER file, Mithias sat back and actually laughed. Certainly a lot of them were false testimony... or were they?? It was a hearty laugh. He really needed that. Although Mithias hadn't always been completely mentally stable, he hadn't laughed in a good while. He hadn't been free to... he hadn't been alive. For all his existence, all had ever known was to follow the rules, to obey, and to strive to serve the unclear will of some greater omniscient force that had only ever been imagined by humankind. He had busied himself by taking on unnecessary responsibility and judging himself over it, and he had almost died so blind. He had sought control so badly that it had become his prime power, binding his childhood spirit in chains. It had taken a brush with death to open his eyes. Now, no more would he waste his time with a fruitless eternal search for meaning. He was a vampire, above the dying material world, a creature granted the potential to become a demigod, like the wild and free Mohowauuck. I was time to let go of obligations and patrons and to become what he was always meant to be, himself. There would be no more pointless following of his kin, no more judgement of others, and no more imposed code. Mithias was a prince, meant to be free and willful. It was time to embrace the darkness and accept himself. Now that he was free from all obligations, Mithias turned his attention to his first order of business, finding his father. If Gabriel had in fact saved his life, Mithias wanted to know it and why. He owed his maker regardless, but if there was any inkling of affection there, the son wanted to take advantage of it. Gabriel's age was a complete mystery, even to Mithais, but he was very much an elder and there was certainly a lot to learn from him. Mithais would find him and at least express his gratitude if not possibly also rekindle old ties. As he leaned back at his desk, he tempered his hopefulness with the fear of complete rejection, plus there was the bit about actually finding him. No doubt the old showman enjoyed playing with SOLDIER spies. A few locations were known to be frequented by the oldblood. There was even a satellite dedicated to watching one of Gabriel's supposed homes in the Caribbean... as if they expected it to suddenly blow up or something. A newspaper article, online nowadays, referred to a recent episode of "mass hysteria" about a week ago in Oklahoma, where hundreds of random people stepped outside their houses to dance a quick jig. Mithias shook his head with a slight smile. It was probably worth the trip.

[Shikaru]

The attack on Kilo Point had been a failure for Magnus, or had it? At-least, he would tell others that he, the almighty Magnus, of course knew what would happen and that it was merely a stress test against the Purge and SOLDIER to wipe out some of them in the process. When of course, the Purge showing up had been one thing that Magnus didn't account for, and that was what infuriated him the most. He had planned everything out, where the guards were, how many they were, how many Elite were on the premesis. But no, every single damned thing was destroyed the instance the Purge showed up, months of planning, for nothing at all. No matter, he would turn new vampires, more planning. He would destroy the Purge and SOLDIER, or get every last vampire killed trying. Luckily for him, he did plan a fall back base, and it was nearly complete, in about a week it would be done. It had already been over a month since the failure at Kilo Point, he had work to do. Believe it or not, Magnus actually had a cellphone. He had all but a few contacts he had...acquired....recently from a few people. One of which was a weapons and vehicle dealer, both of which, ironically, were working for the government as some kind of black market. It seemed the government was willing to do almost anything for money, including selling arms to the one Vampire that decided it was time to destroy them. Magnus simply grinned at the thought as he sat in the cavern the base was being built in. Magnus opened the flip phone he had in his hand, of course it was a Nokia, Magnus would settle for nothing less due to his destructive lifestyle, and dialed the number. A man shortly picked up on the other end "Hello?" He spoke. "Oh, Why hello. Would I be correct in saying this is John, the man selling the....extra equipment?" Magnus replied. There was silence for a few moments before the man replied. "Yes, that would be me. Who is this?" "Magnus, Magnus Shane. Surely you've heard of me? Why, I'm in the national news. Anywho...I need to order a lot of weapons and such, say, enough for a small army takeover? I'll give you some co-ordinates to drop the supplies off at, do be prompt, I'll leave a briefcase there as well. I expect everything to be there in a week or so." Magnus replied. He listed off a long list of equipment, assault rifles, grenades, kevlar, a Jeep or two, rifles, handguns, pretty much everything he needed to create an immortal militia that had the least possible chance of being stopped by the purge this time. Magnus gave him the co-ordinates of an old abandoned church around 30 miles from where he was currently at and closed the phone. To think, the very government that funded SOLDIER to stop the 'Evil Assholes' known as vampires, were now helping him dig their grave. To make matters even /more/ interesting Magnus had dug up some data linking them to the Purge as well, if only barely. The fact of that infuriated him, and yet made him realize just how alike they were. Both cunning and deceiving, he would run this nation perfectly after he De-throned the President. Magnus sighed as he paced the cave back and forth, waiting impatiently for the Bunker to be done so he could further his plans, further? Eh, Magnus didn't put to much more thought into it. He entered a passcode and the giant re-inforced steel door opened with a click and slowly opened inward, he entered and it slowly closed behind him. Most of the Bunker was complete, it was mostly the lower levels with the equipment room and his chambers, his chambers have been located on the last floor deep beneath the ground. He went into the camera room, watching the workers tire endlessly to get the job done. He sat down in the chair in front of the desk and powered on the computer, he needed more intel about who he was dealing with. Magnus was by no means a mastermind hacker that could take down the entire powergrid in 5 seconds, but he was smart enough to know such a thing could be bought and manufactured. Even easier thing to buy, would be the password to enter the government and SOLDIER databases. It had been a easy thing, only a couple million from some underpaid lackey that had grown greedy and desperate for money. After a series of clicks and a lot of typing at the speed of two or three people, Magnus had access to nearly every file the government was hiding in a mere few minutes. He had files on every documented Oldblood, including himself. He paused a moment to read it, and grinned as he did, though he thought they didn't quite portray his craziness accurately. He was tempted to edit it, but that would be even more traceable than what he was currently doing. Something else that definitely piqued his interest was the file on Gabriel, 90% of it was random un-important bullshit, if not all. Everything else were things he had already grown to know. He grimaced, finding nothing of interest. He then decided to search up anything to do with the Purge and any possible connection it had to do with the government and SOLDIER, most of it was simple documents stating they knew it existed and kept tabs on them. After around an hour of digging through files, he found a rather interesting document about the most recent battle at Kilo Point, very interesting indeed. The document itself stated they had tipped the Purge off to wipe out a few key Elite members they no longer fully trusted they had oh so carefully stationed there, among the list was Mithias Varomere and Rhyss Blackblade. So, in an effort to wipe out two of their own members, they allowed an entire city, an entire garrison, to burn. Magnus had to admit, he was inclined to agree with their tactics. Destroy a few to destroy the great threats. Remembering back from the on Varomere, it had his cellphone number. Magnus was of course now inclined on toying with him, he grinned as he dialed the number. "Would this be a Mithias Varomere I am speaking to, one from the Elite branch of SOLIDER?" Magnus asked. It took all the strength he could muster to not burst out in a maniac laugh of what he was going to tell him. Of course, judging from his records Mithias was a slave to SOLDIER, loyal to his very core. What he was about to say would outright crush him. ---- It had been a little bit over a month since the attack on Kilo Point ravaged the town, turning it now into nothing more than a military base to hold down the fort in the surrounding area. No one dared tread there, except for a crazy few. Matt reckoned he was one of those crazy few for sticking around after that life threatening experience, although he wasn't entirely loyal to SOLDIER, he was a fighter and that's all he knew. He sat at his desk in his office, still contemplating the fact of exactly why Mithias would resign so suddenly to find some random vampire that for all he knew fled the country post haste. But, unfortunately, he was well within his rights to resign and Matt was far from a high enough rank to be ordering around Elite members to such a degree. He kicked his feet up on his desk and sighed, the attack on Kilo Point with both the Purge and the vampires seemed all to co-incidental. Exactly how did the Purge know the vampires would attack, and in what number? Surely, they wouldn't have sent an entire army to combat a mere twenty vampires. Something didn't seem right, how would they know to send entire assault teams, a entire damn army? Matt decided the first order of business would be to do some research on the matter, but, unfortunately Matt had no where near full clearance. Most of the files he had was very basic information on some Oldbloods, and what he could access in the database was mostly blacked out. This, this would take some time. And Matt sensed time is what they didn't have much of. ---- Rhyss groaned as he sat in his chair in the living room of his small yet high class and expensive house, he flipped through the TV Channels. Almost every damned one of them had something to do with the attack on Kilo Point, every last one. He was growing tired of hearing about it, everywhere he went 'Did you hear about X, did you see Y?' He grimaced and shut it off. He grabbed a cigar and lit it, he inhaled deeply and sighed, sending torrents of smoke from his nostrils. Something just didn't seem right, he just couldn't quite tell what. He was informed that Mithias had resigned from the branch as well, which concerned him even more. Not really concerned for the fact of Mithias, he could give a damn less about him. The reason he resigned, was what he was concerned about. Why of all times did he decide to prance off to go on some spiritual quest, because he nearly died? Pft, Rhyss stared Death in the face and spit in his eye on every single mission he went on. Rhyss figured Mithias resigned because he was weak, he got scared, frightened. He simply shrugged, not putting to much more thought into the cowards actions. He would simply wait, and hoped the whole incident would blow over soon.