BeastofDestiny

[Monster Cafe]

I'm interested, but confused on one of the rules. Did you actually mean like an animated non-still image or anime images?

REBOOT COMING SOON. INVITE ONLY.

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Location | Red Rock
Interacting with | Everyone Present
Mentions | AJ @TootsiePop, Emilia @NeoAJ, Yessi @Hoekage
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Despite the young man’s remark about his day being ‘shitty’ Hugo maintained his positive attitude and optimistic smile. Everyone has a story to tell, one of pain, one of pleasure, one of hope and one of travesty, it held both the merit and meaning of everyone’s existence after all. Considering the state of the group around him, it seemed they had a rough time of it, what choices that lead them to this point, Hugo himself did not know, but if there’s one thing that he’s learned throughout his life is this...

‘Bad choices, make Good stories’

At the mention of food and drink from the young man though, Hugo’s stomach realized how empty it was as it made it a low growl. Even though he had plenty of food, mostly in the form of oats, jerky, and preserved fruits, the rasta had been travelling in the hot Nevada desert for nearly two days now, basking in the cold of the night sky as he dreamed. Unable to deny such an offer, he put his guitar down, made his way over, and clapped the man’s arm, “Merci beaucoup, mon ami,” nodding his head rather vigorously he repeated, “Merci!” As the young gentleman left he started rifling through the cooler, taking note of the ice cold water in it, and just as quickly as he spotted it, he went right for it. Grabbing it from the container, lone mostly melted ice cubes sliding down the side of the bottle he proceeded to open and chug it. Some men may have passionately caressed a woman, some may have listened to the greatest of symphonies, but right now, in this moment, nothing was more pleasurable to this simple man than the cold liquid running down his throat. Pure bliss and a great relief to his hot, tired and aching body, it was like silk caressing the very soul of his being.

About two-thirds of the way through he stopped, sighed in relief, then proceeded to dump the rest of the bottles contents onto his hair and face, careful to remove his hat first. It was a cold and refreshing relief as the water washed away the sweat and sand that had been gradually covering his face for the last two days. Letting the water run down, some getting on his clothing, some falling to the dirt below, he returned back to his duffel, producing a towel to dry and wipe his face. Sighing in relief he turned back to the group as he acquired a granola bar from his bag, “Merci again, mes amies, I’m glad to be in the presence of such good and welcoming companions as yourselves.” Plopping once again on his bag, a bite of the bar in his mouth, and without missing a beat, he continued to strum his guitar to the music. He closed his eyes, feeling the strings beneath his fingers, their melodious beat in near synchronization to the music playing from the radio

"HI KIM!"

Somewhat startled, but unfazed, he noticed a new one had joined the group, a rather pretty blonde who looked rather...out of place. His eyes curiously fixated on her, she seemed to be the one person in the group who wasn’t downtrodden, instead she seemed to be the exact opposite with her loud voice and boisterous announcements. Though he couldn’t remember, these sensations the young woman exuded were somewhat familiar… “Ah-hah!” He remembered from his journal, this young lady was clearly high! Whatever it was, he wasn’t too sure, but clearly this group had a use for drugs, again something he remembered he regularly dealt with.

"I'm so lucky you're all here! It's so great to, like, just be here and not thinking about that fucking asshole Brandon! She had even turned to Hugo’s attention, a big grin on her face, “Even you! Man, Brandon would flip if I took a selfie hanging off you, wouldn't he? Damn straight he would, the fucker."

Hugo couldn’t help but laugh, “Nothing wrong with spreading the love, Mi Amor! I would gladly accept your embrace!” Maybe he had been wrong about this group, maybe they weren’t such a downtrodden group after all, “You seem to know how to, as they say, party it up and ‘get lit’.” Laughing, he suddenly recalled his own form of stress relief and began rifling through his bag, grabbing a big ol’ bag of the green stuff. Setting the baggie down he looked for his other tools for the herbal relief. He did his research though, even wrote it down, 1 oz of the devil’s lettuce was allowed to be carried in the state of Nevada, though if one were to look deeper they’d find more; after all this was just part of his business. With deft hands he ground up the product, lined it in a paper and rolled it, and with a swift flick of his tongue to seal it. What was left in his hands, was a rather sizable joint, that he rather happily lit and took a long hit from. Allowing the smoke to fill and encase his lungs for several seconds, before he exhaled.

Like the sweet nectar it was, he took his time enjoying the sensation travelling down every nerve and vein in his body. As though he were like a pad of melting butter, a singular grape, its skin peeled to expose the flesh, a loaf of bread, freshly baked, squeezed and allowed to relax back to its natural shape; Hugo was in bliss. Sighing he took another long hit of the joint, a long burn to relax his body and mind as he let the negative smoke exit his body. Silently he stared up at the stars, “Ahhh~ such a beautiful night…” His gaze was locked with the glistening stars, a small smile on his face “Quel temps pour vivre” (What a time to be alive) It took a couple of minutes, but he realized he was being rather rude, there were guests among him, some of them were more than likely to partake if they were nomads themselves. Looking around the group, a wide grin on his face, he simply asked, “Would anyone else like a hit?” he held the smoking joint out, vying from side to side with no response. No? Unusual but, maybe it was just best to pass it around from person to person. Looking to the young, tan woman to his right he offered her the lit product, “Perhaps you would partake, Mi Amor?” His smile, inoffensive and full of joy at his current ‘high peak’, held the joint up towards her in offering.

Emerald City

Honestly, anytime I think of a vespa in anime, I'm immediately brought back to FLCL

Emerald City

Long, long ago, when this old world was in its tender infancy, there was a child named Epimetheus who never had either father or mother; and that he might not be lonely, another child, fatherless and motherless like himself, was sent by the gods to be his playfellow and helpmate. Her name was Pandora.
The first thing that Pandora saw when she entered the cottage where Epimetheus lived was a great box. And almost the first question that she put to him was this,
"Epimetheus, what have you in that box?"
"My dear little Pandora," answered Epimetheus, "that is a secret, and you must be kind enough not to ask any questions about it. The box was left here to be kept safely, and I do not myself know what it contains."

Ollivander Clarke looked to the small audience gathered around him, a camaraderie of small children who had expectantly come to listen to the older gentleman’s monthly tales. He’d been doing this for some time now, more than a decade at least he’d bring himself to the local community center, bringing a new story to the table. To him, this was just another form of teaching and though he was used to the knowledgeable adolescents that had graced his lectures, there was something endearing about reading to children. They had wide, expectant eyes, a yearn for learning and an imagination of wonderment and fantasy. To anyone willing to learn, there was a pride in that for a teacher, to anyone willing to learn from the teacher themselves, that was an honor.
”hmm…” His brows furrowed together and the children seemed somewhat confused as he paused. As he mentioned, he was a teacher, and Ollivander always found new ways to implement a way to teach. “I must apologize my dear pupils, but I’m afraid I won’t be able to finish this story today…”, he spoke with a small, sad look in his eyes. Of course, as was expected they all protested him, whining and begging him to finish the story. Satisfied with the response he reassured them, “Alright, alright, I’ll finish the story,” he laughed as his audience clapped and cheered, “However...I am going to need a helper to get me through this story...are there any volunteers?”
Several hands shot up alongside exaggerated cries of ‘pick me’ were shouted from the small crowd. Scanning amongst the children, hands up, crying for attention, there was one who wasn’t. A small, pale, raven haired girl, eyes looking anywhere but at him, almost like she were trying to hide herself. “You there, young lady, would you care to join me?” He spoke, encouraging the girl to come up. She seemed startled that she of all people had been chosen, but reluctantly came, hands fidgeting with her dress as she made her way over to Ollivander; the other children groaned with disappointment at not having been picked.
“Hello my darling, what’s your name?” The girl spoke timidly and hesitantly “Um...L-Lily...sir.” “Lily, eh? I assume shorthand for Lillian, yes?” The girl remained quiet, but nodded. “You have a very pretty name, Lily. My name is Mr. Clarke, are you ready to read with me?” The girl shook her head, “No? Well, if you aren’t ready to help me,” he helped lift the girl into his lap and set the book in front of them, “Then I’ll help you, to help me and that means, we’re partners, okay?” Lillian was startled, but she just quietly whispered, “...okay” She was clearly in an uncomfortable situation, but this is the goal of a teacher, to break down the bad walls, to build up the support of a stable foundation. “Right! On we go! Now my dear, I’m going to read the parts of Epimetheus, and you are going to read the parts of Pandora.” pointing his finger onto a line of words he told her, “Now, here is where I left off, so this is where you start, alright? Just start reading the words and I’ll help guide you along as necessary.”
Clearly uncomfortable, but forced into this situation, she accepted her fate and started to read, “But Pandora was not altogether happy on account of Epi...Epee...Ep- Epeh….” The girl’s face started to flush more and more and she looked like she was almost about to cry. Knowing when to step in, Ollivander placed a calm hand on her shoulder and said, “It’s alright my dear, it’s a difficult word to pronounce, but that’s why I’m here to help.” She looked up to him, tears forming in her eyes, “B-b-but… they’re…” Ollivander shushed and cooed to comfort her, ”They are merely an audience to the tale my darling, they themselves are not a part of the book. Focus only on the story and nothing else but our voices as we say out the words, yes?” The girl, wiping her eyes nodded and returned back to the story.
“Now, just repeat after me, Eh-”“Eh-”
“Pih-”
“Phi-”
“Meh-”
“Meh-”
“Thee-”
“Thee-”
“Us-”
“Us-”
”Now, say the full word.”
In perfect tune she read out the word, “Eh-Pih-Meh-Thee-Us, Epimetheus!”
“Yes! That is exactly right! Good job my darling! A small round of applause for the young articulator!” The other children clapped and Lily seemed to calm down somewhat, almost seeming somewhat beaming as she smiled up at Ollivander. It was almost a complete 180 degree change, first she was quiet and unconfident, and now she was not only smiling with joy, but also with pride. Ready to continue the story, he asked his young pupil, “Now young Lillian, shall we continue on with the story? It’s still your part.” Lily returned back to the story, a newfound sense of courage within her.
“But Pandora was not altogether happy on account of Epimetheus' explanation about the box.
"Where can it have come from?" she continually asked herself, "and what on earth can be inside it?" At last she spoke to Epimetheus.
"You might open the box," Pandora said, "and then we could see its contents for ourselves..."

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Ollivander checked his pocket watch before exiting his domicile, 10:24. Closing the wound watch and replacing it in his vest pocket he exited the building and locked it up, turning only to see if Angel would be visiting him today. As was the usual, her food and water bowls were full, a commonplace sighting for Ollivander, but given light to the recent events he worried about his feline companion. Sighing softly he walked towards his car, an old 1987 ford ltd crown victoria, got in, started the ignition and drove away. It would take him at least 30 minutes to reach the community center where the meeting was to be held. He had already emailed his students ahead of time, letting them know that class was cancelled due to the sudden announcement, one he hoped was of good news, but knowing full well that there would most likely be none.
Turning right out of his driveway he made his way down the road, and reflected on the recent events taking place in the city he called home. It had been less than a week, but he noticed that a long time friend and student, Elizabeth had been coming to class late and almost disheveled. Every time she entered she seemed like a broken husk, a shadow of her former self, and so being the concerned educator/friend he confronted her about it. It was during that particular confrontation that she broke down and told him everything, about Lillian missing, about the worry it was causing her and the mayor’s family; to say Ollivander was shocked was an understatement. Realizing the gravity of the situation after calming her down, he told her to take as much time as necessary to right herself, an emotionally unstable mind can heal itself before it has a chance to learn anything new. “Worry not my dear, I’ll deal with the rest of the administration myself, right now, you need to rest and have time to process these recent events.”
He sighed again, really Ollivander did hope for the best, but if it was the Mayor, Lillian’s father, giving the address he could only assume the worst. In that assumption, he’d try to help console the Baker family as best he could, after all they knew his family longer than he’d known them. Her parents were children when they knew of his parents, and Ollivander as a child knew Elizabeth’s parents long after they were born, the cycle has only repeated itself as she knew him in his old age. It was a bittersweet thought, knowing that only two generations of Bakers and Clarkes would know one another as a family, but it was a destiny he was willing to face. His time of reflection over, Ollivander pulled into a space in the street, exited his vehicle and began traipsing off towards the community center, his cane tapping ever so slightly into the soft grass. Knowing he was well within distance of the center, he decided to sit at one of the ever present benches nearby the river. Slowly he rubbed along the engravings in his cane, contemplating what would happen next, as an educator in history, he knew that if something bad were to be involved, it would only get worse until the culprit was caught. He could only pray for the best and that the slow march of time would continue onward for the community he had grown to love.

Emerald City

What's the possibility of there being a community center/garden? I could imagine Ollie going there once a month to read stories to children.

Emerald City

Professor Ollivander ‘Doc’ Clarke

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Birthday
April 16th, 1952
Age
67
Appearance
Old and wise, with a kind smile that could melt anyone’s heart. Wears a three piece suit, half moon spectacles and wears a silver pocket watch in his vest that he checks and maintains regularly. Walks around with an old, ornate cane more for appearances than to combat any physical ailment. Definitely more English than you at least.
Neighborhood
At his parent's old manor in the Outskirts, one of the older buildings in the area, yet still a rather accommodating estate
School
Not necessarily a formal student, but a constant learner for life
Occupation
History Professor at Moore University
Personality
A kindly old man who’s willing to give a listening ear and offer advice to those who will listen and more importantly, heed it. Olivander’s family has been known around Emerald City for a long time, and for that reason alone the older generation has a high amount of respect for the elderly gentleman and his heritage. He is considered one with a prominent amount of wealth, despite his modest living in his family’s estate and both a receiver and giver of knowledge. If there is one person to ask for advice, it is Olivander, for he will give the unadulterated truth and at the same time, a sense of hope and understanding.

Short Bio
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”I think I was a small child when I fell in love with history and lore, listening to tales of gods and men from my father and his father before him…

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Ollivander had known Emerald City for most of his life, his grandparents had immigrated to the country in the late 1800s and settled in the city to start a new life. His parents had met each other in the city, his father an English gentleman and photographer, his mother an out of the ordinary businesswoman. The two fell in love and gave birth to Ollivander himself, who grew up around the stories told by both his parents and grandparents, both historical and fantastical. Growing up with these legends and lores, Ollivander pursued a life of the historical, detailing every fact he could, making mental notes and writings wherever he could.

When he had come of age and graduated the local high school, Ollivander set out to the city and continued to engage his dream of learning history and myth. He excelled so well at his studies, that after earning his Master’s Degree, he was offered a position at Yale to teach the students what he knew, and he could barely pass up the offer. He certainly kept in touch with his family, while engaging his students for the next two and a half decades.

When his mother fell ill however, he knew it was time to return home on leave to take care of her. As her health failed though, he stayed longer and realized how much he had missed the sanctity and quiet of that small Oregon town. He resigned his position from Yale and instead took a job as the history teacher of the high school, caring for his parents who passed in the coming years. He fought through it and continued to teach, inheriting their estate and all within it, never having found a wife, he would be the last of his family line.

He has no desire to continue the family line however, only a desire to pass on the knowledge he has received over a lifetime. When the opportunity came over four years ago to take on the job as history professor at the newly found university though, he couldn’t pass it up. He knew it was more of a political ploy though, ‘The boy who left town only to come back’, it was a way to convince the students to stay in a newly thriving town. However that is not the goal, the only objective is knowledge, a job that only Ollivander knows how to pass down.

NPCs in Ollivander's Life

Angel came into the Professors life a few years ago, prior to his employment at the University, rather quite literally. Most would consider a feral cat, a scar over it's eye to be a rather dangerous thing, and yet this creature had a rather intuitive soul in it's eye, as though it were on a similar mental wavelength to Ollivander. In that spirit, the two bonded naturally and any students who came by instantly recognized the carefree tabby and it's calm nature. In a way Ollivander didn't adopt Angel, but rather she adopted him.
(Angel regularly comes and goes as she pleases, though she may come off at first appearance as grumpy, she's a rather gentle soul and Ollivander keeps a food and water bowl regularly filled outside of his estate.)

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Kiyoshi Itsugaya

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Birthday
XX/XX/XXXX “...Don’t worry about it”
Age
21….ish
Appearance
Kiyoshi’s style is rather casual, his most notable attire being zip-up jackets or hoodies of various graffiti patterns, in blues, greys and orange. He’s usually seen wearing athletic shorts, even in the colder months and some kind of tennis shoes (Doc Martens if he’s feeling extra fancy). Out of his entire wardrobe though, he’s never seen without his headphones, always wearing them either over his ears, or around his neck with quiet beats playing out, regardless if he’s at work or school.
Neighborhood
Lives with his Aunt in one of the older Suburban homes near the edge of the outskirts, though doesn’t particularly like it as much with all the new housing developments around it.

Room Reference

School
Moore University...you know enough already
Occupation
A Jack of All Trades, Kiyo doesn’t exactly have an occupation in Emerald City, any finances he’s acquired is usually from his parents, though it's nothing he flaunts around and most of it goes into a trust fund for his future. Kiyo has instead opted to do the odd job here and there, such as helping his Aunt out with errands for a small allowance, delivering produce from Oakley Farms to the market, or tending to the gardens in the florist shop. Everything is done under the table and the only payment is the odd favor or two and the occasional dollars to donuts. If there’s one stable gig he has, its playing small shows at the Diamond in the Rough. At the end of the day, the work he does is more out of necessity for his own mental health, rather than a need for financial sustenance.
Personality
On the outside Kiyoshi appears to be calm and collected, a thoughtful individual, and a face of consistent neutrality that has a hint of sadness behind it. He’s usually seen listening to his environment, eyes closed as he concentrates on the next sound to grace his ears.
On the inside though, he’s silently judging you. To him the tone of a person’s voice is as similar to the key of an instrument played. In other words he can tell when a song is about something happy or if a random stranger is giving him a load of B***S***. It’s not unlike for Kiyoshi to call someone out when they’re being hesitant or sneaky, though most of the time he doesn’t really care that they are, he’s simply doing it for the entertainment value. If he knows someone long enough, he can usually tell their quirks almost immediately, but depending on his opinion of them he may or may not ‘poke the bear’ so to speak.
Despite his rather neutral negativity to most situations, there’s a deepness to the young man that can speak volumes, of a pain birthed not too long ago. If he didn’t have such a good poker face and didn’t have to speak from an electronic device, someone could potentially call him out on his own B***S*** sometimes.

Short Bio
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“Music has always been a part of my life… It’s the voice I never had to begin with…

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Originating from Japan, Kiyoshi was born into a family of naturally talented and proficient musicians. His own parents being a famous dynamic singing couple in their own band, Night Circular Infinity. When Kiyo was born, they decided to take a small hiatus to raise their only son. It was when the fans cried out in desperation for their tour to continue, that they took their toddler son on the road with them. City after city, country after country in the tour bus, a small veritable family of secondary relatives, teaching him how to play and sing...only he couldn’t do the latter. Turns out that he was born mute to a couple of singer parents...the irony was not lost on him.

Despite enjoying his time on the tour, and his family never once questioning his disability, he never felt he truly belonged. His parents seemed to have picked up on this however and decided to send him to America to live with his Aunt and Uncle, to give him at least a somewhat normal childhood, away from the bustle of the touring lifestyle. Though odd at first, the quiet of Emerald City seemed to help the child unfurl and relax a little, spending a great deal of time learning from his Uncle how to play the guitar, Kiyoshi’s undoubtable ‘first love’.
For the first time, Kiyoshi felt like he had a family he could truly relate to and be at ease with. He spent his days playing music and his nights, silently strumming to the glittering stars and the sounds of chirping crickets. What was happiness and bliss was followed by tragedy, as his Uncle was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, and though he fought valiantly, perished nearly six years ago to the disease.

Devastation was an understatement in the years to follow. Kiyo ended up inheriting his Uncle’s guitar, and though he continued to play it with all the happiness he knew from music, there were sad undertones that only the trained ear could hear. With him suddenly becoming ‘Man of the House’ he started taking on work and gigs to support his grieving Aunt, and together as a family they’ve continued to support one another. The sudden influx of new residents, however, was just another reminder that tragedy is like a row of dominos, as the quiet he had grown so accustomed to was slowly losing itself in the din of the crowd.

NPCs in Kiyoshi’s Life

Eleanor is Kiyoshi’s Aunt and the reason why the late Akira Itsugaya decided to leave behind his home in Japan and stay in the states. He once referred to her as a black lotus in a field of sunflowers; a dark and mysterious thing with just as bright and shining a soul as those around her. She is a mild mannered and temperate woman, and though her husband is gone she carries on the best she can and lives life as though he wasn’t gone to begin with.

Emerald City

TP got me interested in this and I'm brainstorming my character's backstory. Also @The Muse I saw your list of businesses and the first thing I immediately thought with the dive bar was the name 'Diamond in The Rough' just to keep up with the gemstone puns.

REBOOT COMING SOON. INVITE ONLY.

～ ～ ～ ～ ～ ～ ～ ～ ～ ～

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Location | Red Rock
Time | 8:35 PM
Interacting with | Himself －－> Everyone Present
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"...It's been a few days since the start of my journey eastward, so far it's been great, I hit the Nevada desert today with the help of a truck driver and we had an excellent conversation. He told me all of his aspirations in life, all the places he's traveled, about his family and ailing mother. I offered my words and condolences, asked him if there was anything I could do, any form of compensation for picking up a wandering traveler such as myself. He declined, but he did appreciate the conversation, noting that he picked up travelers all the time for moments like these. Knowing where my destination was, he stopped at an intersection a few hours into our trip (somewhere near Baker, CA) and told me to keep on heading northeast, that it would get me to the southern most point in Nevada; Red Rock. He mentioned there was a camping ground there and I could probably make it in a day or two if I traveled fast enough. So far, I seem to be making great time, while a day has passed, today's sun is only starting to truly set and while darkness is beginning to spread, there's an idle light off in the distance. Hopefully whoever it belongs to, will allow me to camp with them, it would be nice to sleep among the company of others..."

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Closing the worn out journal, Hugo stuffed the container of his current history and knowledge into his backpack; a traveler's pack filled with his worldly (if not smelly) possessions. A smile on his face, and a song in his heart, he continued on his journey east, placing the pencil he'd been writing with back into the handy human slot of his ear and temple. The graphite was rather worn down from his writing and the wood was terribly short from it's length due to his writing, but there was something endearing about using a pencil over pen. While it's true that his notebook was filled with several different types of ink and lead, something about using a pencil made it almost poetic. His memory was terrible, he'd known that from a young age, but using a pencil was almost like the real thing for him. Ink can be burned on the paper it is pressed into, but lead and graphite can be chosen to be erased; ergo while Hugo's memory was burned from him every day like ink, a pencil was his choice to burn that memory, it gave a sense of control. This all being said, Hugo was not one to abandon a memory that he experienced, and he's never chosen to 'burn' a memory that he's written down. He had the choice to remove a memory if he wanted to, but to Hugo, life was an experience he never wanted to forget, thus he wrote everything down, including the group of youths he was about to stumble upon.

The trucker had indeed been right, noting that there was a campsite in this area, it would certainly be more preferable than sleeping on the sandy ground, using a rock as a pillow in the harsh Nevada desert... well it would most likely still be the same given the circumstances of the group in front of him. As Hugo approached he noticed many of the faces there seemed either defeated, disheveled, or down right disappointed. Most likely not the best group to approach, but given his nature he couldn't help but at least try to interact with these youthful individuals who looked nearly a decade younger than him. As he got closer he called out to them.

"Bonjour Monsieurs~! Mademoiselles~! A fine night around the fire, no?!"

Without necessarily asking permission, he un-slung his backpack in between a couple of the members of the group there and sat down on it. Noticing the music playing on their device he couldn't help but take the guitar off his back and harmonize to notes being played, strumming his fingers along the strings, matching note for note in real time to the radio playing. Looking around to the group, a wide smile on his face he spoke, "My apologies les amis if I interrupted, I am simply another traveler looking to explore the world and your fire seemed so inviting." Continuing to strum along, looking down to his guitar and occasionally tuning it, he looked back and, same wide smile as before, "How has your day been?"

[Canceled]

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The hallway echoed with footsteps as a lone figure walked along its path, each step more dignified than the last as though each foot were critiquing the other per pace. Alphaeus Alaric, glided down the halls to the conference chamber, just as he had many times before, his steely gaze facing forward, only for it to wander occasionally to his wrist watch, mindful of his timing. The night had indeed been long, but not for the same reasons as some of the other 'honored guests' among the estate. No, Alaric had been carefully minding the shipments of various 'products' just as he has always done, with a glass of Merlot in hand, his other hand writing meticulous notes, occasionally shifting to his keyboard to crunch numbers and balance the books. The work of an accountant, money handler, what have you, is never ending and simply cannot enjoy the pleasantries of the flesh and drink; though considering what was in his glass, he didn't really need any more excitement.

Regardless of the previous night's events, when the call was sounded for an immediate meeting, Alaric simply logged what he had done and begun making his way towards his Lord and family at the meeting hall. As he approached the doors, he adjusted the tie to his 3-Piece Suit pulled his leather gloves taut, not being one to dirty his hands or anything else that he potentially touched and with a firm push from his palms, opened the door. As he stepped inside he gazed around the room, noting anyone that was and wasn't present. While primarily most were of Tepes decent, there were still a few others that had yet to arrive, though having checked his watch earlier, it was clear that there was still time. As they say, to be early is to be on time, to be on time is to be late, and to be late...well was unacceptable and to Dmitri, even punishable.

As he strode into the room he was sure to give a brief greeting to those who were currently available "Ladies, Gentleman," before turning to Dmitri, right hand over his heart, the left extended out, Alaric bowed as was tradition, "My Lord." Before standing upright and taking his seat near the front, waiting patiently for the rest of the guests to file in so that the meeting could take place. As the minutes ticked by, more and more of the vampires came filing in and though some were pushing their luck as he kept a close eye on his watch, none was more insulting than Dmitri's own children filing in disheveled and ragged from the previous night of shenanigans. Alaric's brows furrowed in contempt at the Tepes children; audacious, belligerent and spoiled brats as they were. How it took Dmitri any resolve to not rip their spines from their disrespectful bodies was beyond Alaric, but he had to respect his Lord's patience if nothing else.

Once the children arrived the doors were shut, and without further ado the meeting began...or rather the announcement. What Alaric heard was both a surprise and a rather opportune moment. Based on the situation, the children were being thrown to the figurative wolves, they wouldn't have Daddy's income to sustain their rather extravagant lifestyle, they would be on their own. Had this happened centuries ago, they perhaps would have managed, but in the 21st century, with the economy at an all time high, and technology within it's bosom, how would these poor souls survive. He saw all hope fade from their eyes and color drain from their faces, as if that alone was hard enough to believe a thing. Alaric's mind was full of possibilities, himself having been a vampire lord only for his reputation to crumble due to Tepes rule, he himself couldn't rise back to power, but perhaps through his children, he could make a fierce and frozen revenge scheme. It would require time, assets, things he didn't fully possess but...he could make it happen, now however was not the time, he needed this new development to sink in to the princes. For now, there was one thing he could assist within their fall and rise to power; speaking directly to at least one Prince's father.

As soon as Dmitri stood and exited the room, Alaric followed and inquired, "My Lord, considering this recent...development, what would you have me do with your child's rather lackluster accounts and finances?"

[Canceled]

Crime Boss Allan Alaric

‘Al’ ; ‘Allan’ ; The Blood Letter (long forgotten)

(FC;Mark Strong // DC;8E8E38)
55 _{birth year: 07/08/1584} ; Male ; straight ; widowed ; personal ‘accountant’ to Dmitri (for now).

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Occupation: Crime Lord and personal ‘Accountant’ to the Tepes bloodline (specifically Dmitri)

Affiliation/Loyalty: Affiliation to the Tepes Family due to Dmitri’s personal involvement in Alpheus’ undoing, which has made him an unofficial ‘servant’ to their house. His origin though is supposedly from a bloodline that dates as far back as Vlad The Impaler.

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Personality
+ Strategist: Rather cold and calculating, he can see a situation from a mile away. Through that strategy he was able to build the empire he had, only to have it fall to the one vampire who could have destroyed it (Dmitri).
+ Determination: A word often used rarely, in the mind of Alpheus, determination is the key to success, a consistent strategy without forfeit, it was what lead him to greatness, even to fend off the Tepes family in their efforts against him.
+ Finances Money is power and power equates to responsibility. That word though 'Responsibility' is such a flawed euphemism, meant to inspire heroes with the power to do good, but even those with a darker end to their means can benefit from it. Economy, brokering, banking are all a well oiled cog in a means to supply a product where there is demand. Like a house of cards, Al is very good at balancing these options to their highest and most optimal quality.

- Frustration: Determination will only get you so far, at the end of it, you have to face the truth. Alpheus, has had to face that truth more than once, and in that same sentence, it has committed to more failures than he’d like to recount.
- Honor: Most would believe this to be a strength, for one to follow the vampiric code, to stay in the shadows and out of the light. In a way it is a strength, but more importantly a weakness. Honor has more than left the old vampire at a crossroads in times when he didn’t expect them and at the end of it, honor has more than often been a force that has nearly killed him.
- Legacy: Legacy is a fickle thing. It can immortalize a man for a thousand years, or leave him buried and forgotten to the sands of time. Alpheus wishes to be remembered, like his ancestor before him who was crafted around the human tale of Count Dracula, though in a different light. He wishes to succeed in this goal, one way or another, and it may very well end up killing the aged vampire.

Aspirations/goals/philosophy: Alpheus has a name and reputation to live up to. The descendant of what human history has considered one of its’ ‘first vampires’, how could he not live up to that namesake. Though his ancestor may be famous, for when the Ottoman Empire visited his city, one filled with the countless heads mounted on pikes; what does Al have to his own name? Through deception/dealing/sabotage/racketeering/slavery/trafficking, Al has made something of a name of himself. Though he may not decapitate and impale the bodiless heads of his enemies, he certainly uses both their live and undead corpses in a way his own ancestor never imagined. Instead of instilling just fear, instill both fear and gain a profit from it. As wicked as it may be, his great-great-great-infinitely-great-grandfather would no doubt approve.

Skill Set: Aside from heritage alone, what they’ve done with that heritage is more than enough to inspire anyone to join their side. This being said, having been ousted by a vampiric legacy (i.e. Dmitri) younger than his timeline has it’s disadvantages. Albeit his own defeat, Alpheus owned his own legacy and with a vampire as timely as his ancestor’s legacy, even in defeat, like the phoenix, he may rise up again from the ashes of misfortune.

Fears: Those of youth, their arrogance, and misguided ambitions. Youth have their technology, a leisurely pleasantry that didn't exist among the dark ages of 14th century Europe, when the Black Plague wiped out 2/3 of the continent. Alpheus doesn't fear technology itself, he was light years ahead of all those god-fearing humans, and still utilizes it to this day. The youth however, grew up with advancements that didn't come until hundreds of years after his existence, hence they are dangerous. As an entity that has his own ambitions, his own claims and rise to power, those of the youth have their own as well. Dmitri may have had a hand in Alpheus' demise, but to let even a younger generation oust him? That was something he couldn't let possibly happen, even if it meant killing a few of them if it ever came to that.

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History: Alpheus' life started in Wallachia, the land that was claimed by none other than Vlad the Impaler, a tyrannical warlord who was claimed to be the first of the vampires. His mother Yulia Hunyadi is not listed in history however, for she was claimed to be an illegitimate child of John Hunyadi; These names are not important to this story however, only to give context that Alpheus is a vampiric child.

Born in Wallachia, both he and his mother were exiled when Vlad found out about her upbringings, only months after he was born. The two traveled to many lands, Versailles, Vienna, Barcelona, not in that order, only to name a few. When his mother was old and weak, his youth still present in her eyes, he ended her life out of mercy and spent the next few months wandering the land until he made it to the United States in the early 1800's only a few decades after the industrial revolution had taken hold. He witnessed the injustice that people faced throughout the day, walked the streets only to know the telltale bruises of those who had been viciously mugged. A plan formulated in his mind, what if he could use that fear and his own power to create a name for himself? That's exactly what he did.

He spent the next couple of centuries building up that name, instilling fear in the people and intervening whenever necessary. He found love with a human woman during that time, one that didn't question what he did or what he was. All of this was stripped away when he unfortunately, hit Dmitri just enough under the belt that his life changed. His wife, murdered at the hands of one of his servants, his empire tattered to shreds and his life, nearly at it's end when Dmitri himself pressed his own hand against Alpheus' throat. Something happened though, Dmitri saw the value of a man like Alpheus and released him, under the condition that Alpheus served under his line. Seeing the building blocks of a potential revenge, he agreed and has worked tirelessly for the man who tore his life apart, waiting for the moment when he could strike and soon, that option may very well be available for him.