From the shadows of the stage, a familiar black figure steps forward. Lyla hears "them" approach, yet at the first sight of this thing, she faints right into their arms, collapsing from anxiety. No facial features can be made out in their heavy garb, and the foul stench of long dead corpses radiates their body. The host, startled, leaps backwards, a look of dread and perplexity on his face. "Hey! Get off the stage! You're not allowed up here!" the owner cries.
The Wraith takes one look at him, pulls an asymmetrical dagger from their cloak, and shoves it into the host's throat. The man clutches at his throat, blood squirting out from his carotid artery. He falls from the stage, and the audience panics, screams echoing through the hall. People start to flee, terrified by the appearance of this creature.
"250 pounds, my sweet Sir Craven? Don't make me laugh. This girl is priceless, considering what she is." the assassin called out, holding Lyla with one arm. A courtesan tries to be a hero, rushing the black garbed person with a broken beer bottle. With uncanny reflexes, the Wraith counters and twists her arm all the way around, completing severing it from the poor lady's shoulder. The would be savior collapses, bleeding out on the stage. "What... are you...?" the dying courtesan asks.
Tossing the severed arm onto her quickly fading body, the unidentifiable person laughs giddily.
"A monster, of course."The assassin stares at Lyla, running a single finger across her delicate face.
"She is lovely, isn't she? So yummy and scrumptious..." A long tongue unfurls from the shrouded hood, winding down and caressing her ear lobe.
"How wonderful she tastes... Like chocolate and nutmeg." its whispery, androgynous voice purrs. A moment later, the Wraith throws down a tiny, glass ball. An eruption of smoke fills the stage, and the creature starts to make its getaway, moving supernaturally fast out the back door.
As chaos reigns, the screams of the fleeing people of Cabaret Voltaire can be heard for miles. (
@Major Ursa)
As Lorenzo and his posse enter the dreary asylum, there is a sudden feeling that something isn't right. It's as if someone or something is watching them. The dhampir and his group only make it to the first
cell block before an arrow flies overhead.
"Stay away from my territory." a female voice rings out, yet the woman is unseen in the darkness of the asylum. On both sides of the group, banging against the metal doors can be heard. The cries of the insane rise up, shouting at the vampires outside their cells. A young, lightly tanned woman, perhaps 16, saunters up to Lorenzo's gang before stopping at a safe distance. The raven haired lady wears torn clothing, as if she has seen many a battle. At her side, a curved scimitar waits to be drawn. She raises her bow, a glinting arrow poised to strike.
"Leave! I know why you're here. These are my people though. I will not let you harm them."
[Feel free to interact with her however you please.]
-Unfortunate Circumstances-
Before Elizabeth knows it, screams can be heard outside her coach. People are yelling something about a monster in the Red Light District. The driver has trouble controlling the horses, who are spooked by the sudden swarms of people and loud noises. Taking off on a bumpy ride, the side of Elizabeth's carriage smacks into the side of building. The driver is thrown off, and suddenly the coach now without a pilot. Innocent civilians are trampled by the terrified horses, their hooves crashing down wildly. The vampiress doesn't get a chance to jump to safety as the carriage flips onto its side when the horses take a turn much too sharply.
A troupe of good Samaritans see the crash and quickly rush to assist the woman inside. While Elizabeth is able to help herself out before this ensemble of merry looking gentlemen get to her, one covers with a warm, wool blanket. "Miss, are you okay?" a brunette man asks. The other few merely stare at her, one in particular studying her very hard. A moment later, the studious one steps forward. "Wait. Gentlemen, I've seen her... She's a
Grangel! She's not supposed to be in these parts. Get her!" the man shouts.
The man in charge of this party was average height and bald, yet he carried a fierce aura of leadership. While it wasn't stated, it was fairly obvious this man was also a Guardian. His band of merry gentlemen suddenly turned into quite a mob. Advancing on Elizabeth, one stated "Francois will be happy to have the bitch."
[Use your guile and cunning, Elizabeth, for there shall be a manhunt!]
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