Helo

✨Beyond The Veil✨

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Location: Sundown Row - The Pink Room • Time: Dusk

Interactions: Wren @Tpartywithzombi, Locke @Oso• Mentions: Luther

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Neon lights bathed everything in hues of red. The music’s rhythm thumped and pulsed like a frantic heartbeat and washed over the ambient conversation. The air, thick and heady, clung to everything in the room. The unmistakable odor of mangey wet dog wafted around the establishment. Lycan.

“We’ve got a loose mutt in here.“ He leaned in close as he whispered in Wren’s ear. Noah walked a step behind her, kept one hand resting against her hip and guided her movements as they entered The Pink Room. His hand, his eyes, and the way he kept only a sliver of space between them served to remind anyone who looked their way that Wren was his.

He spotted Locke tucked away in an alcove that was just private enough for a meeting. The Fae was more polished now, but still held that calculated ease about him, and he looked a bit too comfortable for Noah’s taste. His eyes lingered for a moment on the Fae, shadow and neon lights flickering across his face. Noah lifted a hand and offered a small wave of his fingers that was anything but friendly. He paired it with a grin that matched. Halfway between the entrance and the booth Locke had picked out, Noah paused.

He pulled a few crisp bills from a leather wallet as he approached a man in simple clothes and tight black shirt with the kind of build that said he knew how to keep order in a place like this. He felt that unease coiling around the human as he got closer and sensed that sharp hint of fear that sliced its way through even the most unshakable humans when a vampire got too close.

“Hey there,” He glanced down at the man’s crooked name tag with a grin. Noah could sense that internal struggle; that primal instinct in humans that told them to flee from something dangerous while the mind kept them convinced nothing was wrong. It was what he liked about humans: they rarely listened to their instincts until it was far too late.

“Dalton. Send your best dancer over to my friend there.” He pointed to Locke and tapped the cash pinched between his fingers against Dalton’s chest. The man cautiously plucked the cash from Noah’s hand and gave a single nod.

“He’s looking a bit…lonely. And tell whatever girl you send in to keep her attention on Locke.” Noah continued, his hand moved from Wren’s waist, up her back, and his fingers lightly stroked her neck.

“My girl’s the jealous type…” He leaned in a little closer and Dalton moved one foot back but never quite committed to adding distance between them. “Not friendly.” With a move that was equal parts playful and threatening, Noah snapped his teeth and followed it with a sinister snicker.

He heard the calming of Dalton’s heartbeat as he moved away from the man and his hand returned to Wren’s hip as they moved like a singular dark entity towards Locke. Time to see how well he could get under Locke’s skin, ensure the Fae didn’t have the upper hand in this dealing.

“Been a long time, Lucky, glad you showed. I was beginning to think you didn’t like me anymore.“ He said, standing by the booth and looking down at Locke. There wasn’t a hint of warmth in his voice. Any bit of nostalgia for the bond they’d once had was long gone; it had died away when Locke had turned his back on him and Angel years ago.

“Wren, this is Locke. Locke, this is my Wren.” His hand gestured between the two, offering only the briefest introduction. Both arms moved to wrap around Wren’s waist as he pulled her closer to him.

“I’ve got business for you.” He said to Locke and there was only a coldness that felt even more out of place in a club that radiated heat.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Time: 6 pm
Location: Castle Dining Hall
Interactions: Stratya@CitrusArms, Hafiz, Nadim
Attire: Red like the other cool kids

---

Nadim leapt across the table and onto Nahir. Nahir shoved the mass of muscle and dark fur over to Hafiz. Food flew everywhere, glasses and dishes shattered on the floor.

Then Hafiz struck the dog and Nadim let out a sound that broke hearts.

“My father is the second wisest man in Alidasht, right behind the radiant Sultan, himself. But it is a weak and foolish man who mistakes violence for strength.” Rohit said as he stood up from the table and followed after the knight who came to Nadim’s aid.

“It’s Nadim.” Rohit said once he’d caught up to Strayta. “The dog. His name’s Nadim. He really is a good boy, probably just excited about seeing everyone and all the food…” He looked around and had no idea where Hala had gone.

“Anyway, he’s Hala’s dog. They must’ve stepped out for a minute.” He said, then he looked at Nadim and grinned.

“Nadim, do you need a hug?” He asked and smacked his chest, encouraging the dog to come to him. Nadim, who had the look of a dog you didn’t want lumbering after you, but who had the temperament of a happy pup who simply forgot his size and power; wagged his whole butt and bounded towards Rohit. The dog’s massive paws slammed into Rohit’s chest with just enough force to knock him back a couple steps and the dog received a plethora of ear scratches.

“Who's a good boy! Nadim is. Who doesn’t understand table manners? Nadim doesn’t. Who wants to go for a walk?” He asked.

Nadim froze for a second at the word ‘walk’. His paws fell back to the ground, his feet did the tippy tappy dance of excitement. A singular, loud bark echoed through the dining hall.

Yes. Nadim wanted to go for a walk.

“I can take him if you want to return to your food. Or, you can join us. Keep us safe from any potential dog-nappers.” He offered.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Lord Leo Smithwood

Time: 6 pm
Location: Castle Dining Hall
Interactions: Drake @Lava Alckon
Mentions: Thea, Lorenzo, Zarai, Hafiz, Nadim
Attire: “Why was I not told red was the color for tonight?”

---

”But I shan't speak out about it publicly.” Mr. Neutrality refused to crack, Drake offered not a sip of tea, not a crumb of drama to add to the feast.

“Then I hope to have the opportunity to meet with you privately.” Leo countered, with a raised eyebrow and a sip of wine. He watched Drake pour almost a full bottle of red into his wine glass. Either something was bothering the guy, or given the events at the man’s birthday party, maybe he was a little bit of a drunkard. Perhaps Leo would try again after Drake had finished off a glass or two.

”Call me a fool if you wish, but I am a man who still believes in love of the truest form - and I may yet have found that in your sister, to be perfectly frank. It honestly makes it even harder having to sport my political voice like that in front of her. But it felt like things were simply building into an inevitable topple - so I hope you understand that is not my normal state. I tend to prefer the more stoic and measured spectrum of emotion.”

“I wouldn’t call you a fool Drake. There are worse vices than indulging in romantic optimism.” Leo popped a bite into his mouth, pausing to chew before continuing. “Thea isn’t fond of the games politics requires us to play but you handled the situation as tactfully as one could.” He answered as Drake continued speaking and even slid a slice of Beef Wellington onto Leo’s plate. The offering was met with a nod of thanks.

”I also like to think we share the same sentiment on protecting our family through the means we find the most fitting. It’s rather poetic in a sense.”

“Poetic? Maybe.” Leo shrugged. “But I can’t think of anything more natural than wanting to protect one’s family. Someone has to be the one that holds everything together. The one who keeps the foundation solid and builds upon it for those who follow after us. Some men treat this like a burden, but it is a mantle to be worn with honor. I think you get that, Drake, I like that about you.” Leo admitted as he carefully cut a bite from his portion of wellington. It was exquisite, and made even better by the lack of mystical weirdness that followed his food.

”If it makes you feel any better - no words that others may share about your sister carry any weight to how I feel about her. It only proves that they are blind to the person she really is.”

“Exactly who is saying what about Thea?” He asked abruptly. The calmness in his tone now replaced with a sharp edge of ire.

As if on cue, Duke Lorenzo continued his tradition of publicly placing his foot inside his mouth. “I do not wish for Charlotte to become like one of these young Varian girls with no self-worth!” Any good will Leo had for Lorenzo turned sour.

Leo’s head snapped in Lorenzo’s direction. “Hey! Shut it, old man. I’ll make you eat your words, pendejo! You don’t know shit!”

He clapped at Zarai’s words. “He’s one to talk. Some noble’s have not a shred of dignity to them.” There was no hush to his tone, whenever Lorenzo returned from his talk with Alexander, he was certainly getting an earful from Leo.

From the otherside of the room a dog let out a yelp of distress. Leo rose from his seat and looked in the direction of a large dog who had clearly just been struck by the Grand Vizier. He had half a mind to toss diplomacy aside right then and there but one of Caesonia’s knights appeared to be handling the situation already. Albeit, a bit too kindly for Leo’s tastes.

“I hope we can both agree that a man who strikes a dog outta be strung up by his balls and left there.” He half muttered as he sat back down in his chair.

Neo Genesis: Chronicles of Eberron

Race: Aasimar
Class: Paladin
Location: Stormrider; Cargo Hold
Interactions:Scratch & Val @Apex Sunburn
Equipment: His longsword; Retribution and a healing amulet. A backpack with supplies and his lute.
Attire: Clothing and gloves
Gold Balance: 87
Injuries: New injuries; concussion, fractured ribs, giant splinter in his leg, injured shoulder, all bruised up. Old injuries include a missing eye, numerous iridescent scars, and a knee that aches when it rains.

---

Ezekiel felt it, the strength of The Silver Flame working through him. Guiding his hand, strengthening his grip so that he did not falter in this moment. He could hear the crackle of holy fire in the sound of steel against steel, as the righteous light cleaved its way through wretched darkness.

One hit. That was likely all he had in him right now.

And thank the gods it had been enough.

This moment was more than just two warriors clashing over the fate of an airship. For Ezekiel the scythe wielder in black and red had stood as a representative of Karrnath and all their crimes. Brutal and cloaked in an aura of unfiltered evil that dissipated into the form of worms and serpents that slithered from the light as their avatar fell never to rise again.

He stood for one lingering moment, clutching Retribution like a holy relic, with a deep sense of pride. It rose and burned. The smile that formed from a feeling of true accomplishment became a wince as that burn swelled.

Heartburn. A pressure that seized his heart and burned its way up into his throat. The sickening feeling of guilt deep in his gut followed it. He almost choked on the bitter taste of pride.

Pride which comes before the fall.

His Aasimar blood rejected the feeling, it turned his body against him even at the slightest inclination to stray from his path. To take pride in a kill, to relish in the spilling of blood, to linger in the violence – these were the first steps towards a path strayed into darkness. Ezekiel’s cheeks burned with the shame of his momentary stumble towards such a path.

He stepped around the writhing mass of serpents and worms, he returned to following Scratch’s commands. He wiped the blood from his blade on his tattered sleeve and resheathed the sword. His shoulder burned. The world became an unfocused mess. His injured leg shook with the effort of every step.

Without the promise of battle to sharpen his focus, everything else seized hold. His steps toward Val were slow and shaky, the light of his eye dimmed, and the sound of the turret rattled his bones. A musket shot rang out.

He didn’t bother to check and see if Scratch had slain his mark. He was simply sure the dark elf had; everything that had taken place inside the cargo hold left the paladin without a trace of doubt in Scratch. He simply put one foot in front of the other until he made his way to Val and the door that stood between them and getting out of this mess.

Ezekiel placed a hand on two of the levers and allowed none of the weakness in his body to show on his face as he gave Val a single nod. “At your command.” He spoke and stood ready to pull the levers and then push that door open with every bit of his body weight. The floor continued to rattle beneath their feet.

✨Beyond The Veil✨

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Location: The Black Spire - Noah’s apartment • Time: Dusk

Interactions: Wren@Tpartywithzombi • Mentions: Locke

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“Breakfast.” Noah repeated the word with false gratitude. He really wished she wouldn't. Not a thing on that tray looked the least bit appealing.

“I love it.” He did not. Maybe the Fae liked eating hearts and tongues, but vampires? No. And cold blood? Foul, as bad as those stale bags of blood the weaker of his kind fed on rather than catching something fresh.

Noah didn’t allow any of that to show, not a trace of his displeasure etched its way onto his face or into his tone. He refocused his attention, not on the breakfast itself but the mutilated body it rested on top of. The wounds that spoke of a long, drawn out death. Dead eyes that stared off into a place far away, devoid of hope and forever locked in despair. He looked at the corpse and saw it only as Wren’s masterpiece; the work of art she had carved just for him.

“It’s gone cold now,” Warm would not have made the tongue and heart anymore appealing.

“I’ll eat it anyway.” He promised. It may not be his ideal breakfast but it did add to the fear. When creatures whispered rumors about Noah Corvane, his fangs tearing into human hearts that were served up to him by a Fae both hauntingly beautiful and terrifyingly mad; it painted an image.

Like how Blackbeard would light fuses in his beard. Crazy shit freaked people the fuck out. There was wisdom tucked away in Wren’s brand of crazy.

Wren ventured beyond madness, a point where things began to make sense again but in ways most people couldn't understand. Sometimes Noah didn't understand it, but he always went with it until it eventually made sense to him too.

“I thought of you while I carved him up,”

His eyes followed her hand as she reached up to smear blood across his face. He could hear it, the steady rhythm of her pulse, just as easily as he could see the veins through flesh pale as a ghost. It was so close. That warm rush of blood that pumped through her veins and lingered so damn close to his teeth.

“Every slice.” Her hand fell away from him and it took its warmth with it.

“I sliced out a tongue tonight too. After I learned all its secrets.” He whispered, reaching for the hand that had just been dangerously close to his mouth. His fingers wrapped around her wrist just tight enough to feel her pulse.

“How delightfully simpatico we are.” His laugh held a wicked edge and his fingers moved from her wrist, up her arm, and rested softly against her neck.

““I wanted it to be perfect…” ”

“You're the only perfect thing in this world, little bird.” He whispered words into her ear as his hand moved her hair away from her neck. Then he kissed his way down her neck, fangs gently scratching at her skin but without the force of a bite. The rhythm of her pulse made his hunger scream for satisfaction, and Noah only lingered in the sublime torment of that denial.

He meant those words. How could he not? Wren was like his reflection, something he'd created. Marks left deeper than skin, his shadow embedded in her psyche. His only living work of art.

And her shadow twisted around him. What he felt for Wren was dug in deeper than love. Held on tighter than obsession.

Addiction.

It snuck into dreams, carved its way into the soul, and squatted in blood and bone for the rest of your days. A craving that could torture a person for lifetimes.

Love wished it had that kind of staying power.

Noah would do anything Wren asked. Anything to ensure she felt the same addiction he felt. He would eat two cold lumps of muscle that squelched with the soured blood of the dead. He would wash it down with a teacup of that same soured blood. Noah would pretend it was the most delightful meal he'd ever had.

Anything to ensure he'd never be without her.

“Now be a good pet and get cleaned up, we’re meeting Locke at The Pink Room tonight.”

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Time: 6 pm
Location: Castle Dining Hall
Attire: Winners wear red & black!
Interactions/Mentions: Cassium, Edin, Morrigan, Roman, Wulfric, Ari, Thea, & Hala

---

“And even still…” The bastard’s eyes held steady as he delivered a blow with no force behind it. “My father loves me more than our King has ever even pretended to love you.”

For Clarence neither craved, nor felt the sting of the absence of Edin's love. He smiled and sipped his wine as the unwanted mother, the distant elder brother, and the chaotic sprite of a sister all jumped to Callum’s defense.

“Appears that I have love in spades.” He shrugged, and although Cassius’s attention had shifted to the woman that embraced him, Clarence addresses the comment more for Edin’s ears.

“But I think a father’s love is best shown by being there for his children, through their whole lives, no matter how difficult they get, and how far they stray in their youth.” He looked at Edin as he spoke and gave the king a respectful nod. It only added a cherry on top that his words might add a little sting to Calbert. There was no reason to let a count think itself an equal among royalty. It was a point he suspected Edin might be able to wrap his feeble mind around if explained privately. Another time, another setting, but he’d find a way to detangle the Damiens from the Danroses.

It was something Callum wanted after all.

Lady Morrigan broke her silence, “Who are you?” She leaned in to whisper.

“Do you not recognize your cousin, Morrigan?” He whispered back, a voice so low only she could hear, his wine glass held perfectly to hide his lips.

“Too much wine, or has memory faded in your advanced age?” He mocked and spoke with the same disdain he felt seething within every memory Callum had of his cousin.

“I am Callum Danrose.” He reminded her, and that was true enough. He was Callum in every way that mattered, and soon Callum would be indistinguishable from him. It was not a maybe, he’d already been let in. It was only a matter of time. He sipped his wine. He ate from his plate. He watched the room.

“As the king decrees I acquiesce. I shall not pursue courtship with Lady Violet Damien until it is otherwise allowed by the powers that be. Am I of the understanding that these wishes apply to Lady Crystal Damien as well?”

Clarence smiled as he chewed. Roman was far more interesting than Callum’s memories suggested. The promise of a duel flared up and quickly died away. It would’ve been fun to watch the bear pummel the wolf to death, but, alas, mortals tried so hard to pretend to be civil these days. He appreciated Wulfric’s encouragement to drop the masks, nonetheless.

The bickering continued. More minor squabbles flared around the tables. Nobles bleed from the room. To the balconies. To the hallways. To the courtyards. They spilled out in droves.

The king had such little control of his people. They mocked him in the way they fled his feast. Gods, it was hilarious. This regime was already teetering and overdue for a toppling. Clarence sipped his wine and ate his food. He’d watched Ari’s gaze linger in his direction before she had left the room. Clarence turned to Wulfric.

“I know I shouldn't leave the table, but I must check on Ariella.” He informed Wulfric as he stood up. He followed the same path she had taken, as if compelled by matters of the heart. For as terrible a poet Callum was with words, there was something tragically poetic about his actions. It was part of what drew a spirit like himself to such a mortal.

He found Ari outside in the company of Thea and another he didn’t recognize. He’d caught just the tail end of Hala’s speech and wore his approval in the form of a mischievous grin.

“Whatever you three are plotting, I approve wholeheartedly. This entire feast is a chaotic disaster. Isn’t it delightful?” He asked.

“Prince Callum Danrose, pleasure to meet you.” He dropped into a bow that held not an ounce of Callum’s awkwardness, but with all the agile grace of a monkey, as he introduced himself to the one he didn’t recognize. His crown never slipped, it sat upon his head like it belonged there.

“And a very happy birthday to you, Thea. I’m looking forward to the real party.” Clarence spoke with only sincerity. The feast required too much pretending, but a party promised something more freeing.

“Did you enjoy my gift?” He asked, his attention finally settling on Ari. “That little dose of public embarrassment thrown your mother’s way.” Something just behind his eyes promised that was only the beginning, that Victoria Edwards was just another thing he couldn’t wait to see topple and fall apart.

✨Beyond The Veil✨

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Location: Gutter's End - Abandoned Warehouse • Time: Dusk

Interactions:Wren@Tpartywithzombi • Mentions:Locke@Oso

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Optional, just Noah torturing a guy

The scent of blood hung thick in the air of the dusty, long-abandoned warehouse. Screams often went unanswered in Gutter's End; whether ignored or simply unheard was anyone’s guess. Every few minutes, the sharp edge of pure terror sliced through the metallic tang, adding a rich, almost savory, smell to the air. The warehouse was nearly pitch dark, save for the lone moonbeams that dared to slither in through a long since shattered window, cutting across the grime. Here, in a forgotten and empty place, any mask of civility had faded away with the sun.

A man’s scream crumbled into a desperate plea for mercy.

“Mercy?” Noah spat the word out with disgust. “Do I look like a merciful man, Jimmy?” He laughed and his chest rumbled with the sound. Something purely wicked reverberated through the room as five more vampires joined in. The sound echoed around a bruised and bloody mortal.

“There is no mercy here; only misery.” He offered a soft and sinister promise.

Noah circled the wooden chair Jimmy was tied to, his slow methodical footsteps tapped softly against the floorboards. He let his words sink in, let the anticipation build, and listened to the racing pulse of his prey as terror took hold.

Then, his footsteps stopped.

Without warning he yanked Jimmy’s head back, the chair tilted with him, and Noah leaned in and whispered into Jimmy’s ear. “Spare the rod, spoil the child.” The chair slammed forward again.

A nail gun went off once…

twice…

thrice.

Jimmy screamed and writhed in his chair. Noah circled around again and faced Jimmy with all the speed and grace a vampire was capable of, his coat billowed. “And you’ve been one spoiled little shit! We brought you business, a cut of the action, and what did you do Jimmy? Bite the fucking hand that fed you!” Noah shouted over the man's screams like a unhinged burst of thunder. One hand shot forward and rattled the chair.

“I didn’t—I wouldn’t—” A lie started to sputter out only to transform into a shriek as the gun nailed Jimmy’s other palm and the arm of the wooden chair became one.

“Alessio,” Noah said, barely glancing back as he began pacing around the chair again. “Show him the evidence.”

One of the other vampires stepped forward, his voice devoid of emotion as he carefully explained and held up each piece of evidence up for Jimmy to see. Surveillance photos. Phone logs. Files found in Jimmy’s office with details about the Corvane family’s business. Each bit of damnation was dropped into the helpless human's lap.

“So now you’re not just a rat,” Noah said, voice like a disappointed parent. “You’re a lying rat.” He closed his eyes and smiled as he shook his head. Poor, wounded Jimmy sat stuck to his chair, hope falling away with every drop of blood. “And that’s a problem. ‘Cause I need to know every bit of shit you’ve leaked to the Wardens.”

“None! I swear. They’ve been houndin’ me. Askin’ what I’ve seen. I told ‘em nothin’.” Jimmy’s words were a scattered mess of desperation. He still thought he could talk his way out of this.

“Lemme knock some sense into you.” The nail gun slammed into Jimmy’s nose, shattering bone.

“We’ve already established you’re a liar, Jimmy.” He held the nail gun up to Jimmy’s eye.

Click.

Nothing. He tried again.

Still nothing.

Noah tossed the nail gun across the floor, back to where he’d found it. Then without pause or hesitation, drove his thumb up and under one of Jimmy’s eyes and deep into the socket. It popped, Noah yanked, and soon the little orb fell to the ground with a soft thud. Noah shuddered with excitement, something about ripping an eyeball out just gave him the most delightful sense of Déjà vu. He licked blood from his fingers.

“You know what I like about hands?” he asked, a sudden glee in his tone. “Same thing I like about eyes.” He crouched down in front of Jimmy, looked up into that empty, leaking, socket with a smile. With a tilt of his head, Noah studied the broken man in front of him.

“There’s two of them.” He watched the dread bloom across Jimmy’s face, heard all that desparte faulty hope drain out as screams softened into whimpers.

“Eeeeye’ll only tell you once, Jimmy, I hate liars.” Noah reached out hand to one of the vampire’s behind him.

“Bolt cutters.” The old rusted tool was handed to Noah as he stood back up and rested a hand on Jimmy’s shoulder.

“Now, I’m guessing this is your first time being tortured so tell ya what I’m going to do.” He spoke like he was offering a favor and wrapped the blades around the tip of Jimmy’s pinky finger.

“We’ll take it nice and slow, Jimbo. Start with just the tip.” The bolt cutters snapped around the finger. Wicked laughter filled the room, drowning out much of the screaming.

“You know what I like about fingers? There’s ten of them. Ten, Jimmy, and I’m going to cut each one away until they're gone. And while I’m doing that, you’re going to talk and wonder what you can say to make it all stop.” He paused before leaning in to whisper, “The misery ends when I believe you. When I get the truth. That might take awhile.”

Piece by piece, Noah cut the truth out of Jimmy the Rat. How he’d sold information on a variety of their clubs and blood farms, and even a few sparse details on Magnus’s Crimson Garden. How the Warden’s had cleaned up Jimmy’s blood addiction and turned him on his vampiric masters. The slimy, ungrateful, little rodent. The traitor.

“You could’ve been Made, Jimmy, could’ve been something. Now you’re just a little rat who fell in a meat grinder. There’s one more thing I want you to know, I lied to you too. This doesn’t end when I believe you…” Noah teased. He shoved the bolt cutters into the man's mouth, blades wrapping around the tongue that had told too many lies.

Snip.

“It ends when I get bored.”

Snip.

Jimmy, or the mangled bloody thing that was left of him, drew only faint shallow breaths. He made no sound and merely sat, hands nailed to the arm of a wooden chair and head slipped low. The evidence, so stained with crimson that they were unrecognizable, were soon doused with gasoline. Without eyes, ears, or a nose, Noah wondered if Jimmy even knew what was coming next.

He hoped he did, Noah hoped the shudder he caught from the shell of a man was a final horrific realization as a vampire stuck a match and let it fall onto the files.

Jimmy lit up and soon faded away.

---

Noah paused for a moment, admiring his work, his art. What was once a man, now something mangled and unrecognizable, sat burning on a chair. Poor ol’ Jimmy Salvatore, formerly a promising blood slave, now just a dead rat. Noah lingered just long enough to ensure the body, and the evidence against Jimmy, got nice and crispy.

The flames were inspiring, they lit up the scene perfectly. Noah plucked his phone from his pocket, picked up the severed eyes from the floor, and set up the perfect selfie. One with a burning Jimmy, pieces of him scattered about the floor, glowing in the background.

Finished work
Headed home
Eye can’t wait to see you

cute Noah selfie

He sent the string of messages to Wren with a lovesick smile strewn across his face before making his way out of the warehouse just as the building started to catch like the brittle tinderbox it was. He’d grab someone to eat on the way home, the smell in the warehouse had really tickled his appetite. Noah got into a sleek black sedan, one that looked drastically out of place in Gutter's End, and never once looked up from his phone.

Bloody fingers still tapped away at the phone screen as he sent a message to Lachlan Devlin, tonight’s second order of business.

We need to talk. Tonight. Pink Room.

Simple. Short. Straight to the point. Let ol’ Lucky Locke wonder what he wanted. Let the bastard stew a little. After what he’d done, after Locke had just up and left them, when once they were inseparable, the man deserved much worse than what he’d gotten. It was aggravating that the Fae had made himself so useful, the best in the business, and Noah wouldn’t trust less than the best for this.

Locke’s luck wasn’t set to run out and this wasn’t about old betrayals. It was about a fresh one. Angel’s; his stupid ungrateful sister who had decided she was too good for her family. It was long past time to drag her back home.

On the way, Noah grabbed the first human dumb enough to be walking the streets alone and dragged them into the car. It was lazy, but what was wrong with a lazy breakfast every now and then? The car continued towards the foreboding obsidian skyscraper, The Black Spire, as if a quick killing in the backseat was nothing out of the ordinary. In Halcyon, it certainly wasn't, and those employed by vampires got used to cleaning up the blood they left behind.

Noah paused just behind the door to his room. He could smell the long dead corpse from down the hallway and it wasn’t like there weren’t plenty of other rooms, that weren’t his damn bedroom, to play with dead things. No…no. Not my problem. One of the thralls can clean this up. They were going out anyway.

He flung the door open and didn’t bother to close it. A short walk past the main room of the high rise apartment and into the bedroom greeted him with a scene almost right out of The Godfather. His sheets were covered in old, soured blood. He pulled the pack of cigarettes from his jacket, plucked one out, and lit it. A long drag mixed with the scent of tobacco helped hide the scent of blood long since expired.

“Wren? Am I going to find a goddamn horse head in that bed?” He asked, his words teasing and his eyes watchful.

Neo Genesis: Chronicles of Eberron

Race: Aasimar
Class: Paladin
Location: Stormrider; Cargo Hold
Interactions:Scratch & Val @Apex Sunburn
Equipment: His longsword; Retribution and a healing amulet. A backpack with supplies and his lute.
Attire: Clothing and gloves
Gold Balance: 87
Injuries: New injuries; concussion, fractured ribs, giant splinter in his leg, injured shoulder, all bruised up. Old injuries include a missing eye, numerous iridescent scars, and a knee that aches when it rains.

---

Ezekiel kept one hand tightly coiled around the netting that secured a stack of secured crates. The other remained wrapped around Venn, who he’d caught just in time before she could be blown away by the winds that filled the cargo hold. He shielded her from the worst of the flying debris. Between the powerful gusts, the shrieking griffon, and the clatter of wood and metal - the room descended in indistinguishable chaos.

Then the griffon soon shrieked no more.

The winds softened just enough.

Little remained in the cargo hold to be flung around.

As the paladin rose amongst the wreckage; the damage to the cargo hold was startling. If he was certain of anything at that moment it was that a giant hole in the side of an airship was a huge problem. If red-hooded terrorists didn’t kill them before that door opened a crashing airship certainly would, and if the ship was left so damaged and without its engineer…well that couldn’t be an option.

The griffon was gone, as was the warrior with twin blades, and only two enemies remained. The odds shifted just enough as divine favor blessed them with an evened up battlefield.

“I’m tired of these fucking tricks…Fight me, you cowards.” The warrior with the sickle surged forward, his weapon dragging behind him. Sparkler’s eyes burned, the rage in them was unmistakable. Good. Anger made men sloppy.

Ezekiel matched the intensity but not the emotion. It wasn’t rage Sparkler looked back at, it was judgement. The sickle wielding warrior would not commit another wicked act. The only mercy Sparkler would find now was with whatever god he prayed to and his soul would soon journey to the next plane.

The floor rattled. A pressure pulsed like an urgent warning. Whatever it meant, it wasn’t good, and it could not be heeded until those last two warriors were slain and the door to cargo had opened.

One thing at a time.

He freed his sword from its sheath once more. Magic powered by unshakable faith followed from Ezekiel into the weapon. It not only glowed but hummed softly with the protective light of Holy Bulwark. If Sparkler dealt the first blow, the Aasimar’s sword was poised to handle it and any magical force that came with it. But he didn’t intend for the opponent to have a chance to lift his heavy sickle from the ground where it dragged and screeched.

Both hands gripped the hilt of his sword, his eye remained locked on the enemy with intensity of a hawk, and Ezekiel charged forward. He couldn’t match the speed Sprakler had, but he wasn’t giving the spellcaster any more time to throw them another curveball. This fight was happening right now.

A shot rang out, and Sparkler’s shield sputtered and died. Scratch held tight to the musket.

"I'll focus on the spellcaster," Scratch’s voice carried through the hold with ease. "You focus on taking the one with the sickle out as quickly as you can!"

As the two warriors closed in on one another, that momentary distraction was put to use. Retribution, aglow with light, swung at the red-hooded figure with unyielding intent to kill and decades of precision. He aimed not to merely strike the opponent with the blade but to cleave through him. As deep as the blade could cut and then just a little bit further, propelled by the paladin’s sheer will alone.

✨Beyond The Veil✨

✨Beyond The Veil✨