St. Pat's Crawl [March GM Event]

[Mordechai]

Some things never changed, and the virulent, wrong ‘facts’ of protesters was one of those things. Shaking his head as one of the protestors quoted the Geneva accords he wondered if any of them had truly read them. Doubtful considering the deluded woman seemed to think they had any application at all to the soldiers or the situation. Declared or undeclared, they only governed war between nations, no bearing at all on the new style of asymmetrical warfare that was the common standard now amongst humans. He was also quite sure there were no legions of the undead counted as signatories, nor internationally recognized as a nation. The killer said nothing though, the comic relief was a blessed sidenote when dealing with the almost two meter tall pile of **** stacked before him, and the simpering whore at its side.

The impact of the blonde allurist’s attempt to tackle was absorbed easily by the man as he let a smile grace his lips. “Alexandrea, greetings” A one armed hug greeted the woman before he stepped to the side. “I have chosen for the moment to not be oppressive in my protection of her, I would not restrict her presence to mine. She is near however. I believe she is playing games at my expense, but it has no effect upon my feelings for her. Even now i scent her presence, but she has of yet declined to expose herself to me. It is an ever change game of cat and mouse to pursue one that may be fated for you.” As she continued to speak, his visage hardened once more as his eyes turned back to the bloodbag the establishment was named for. It was not her fault, the fault lay in her blood, her soul. Allurists were ruled by emotion, often to the point of denying logic, if was contrary to what they ‘felt’. The killer had seen it time and again, but emotion did not change fact, and the fact was the man before them was single handedly destroying any hope for peace between vampires and humans. It was truly a shame that she was one more that the traitor had ensnared in his web of deceit.

“Alex” he began, as his voice growled quietly once more. “I too have looked into his mind and what is shown there, I am sure is a product of his delusional mind.” The killer gave a short nod in the direction of Lancaster, “It shows him attacking himself. That he has deluded himself into believing this farce, of an evil entity, does not make it fact, it only makes it his reality.” Raising his eyes, locking them onto pair before him he continued. “He has told you he does not lie, as have I told you the same. It is obvious that both of our stories cannot be true. One must be wrong. If neither is lying one is still telling a falsehood. I have seen hard evidence of his attacks. He offers tales of an evil twin, that suddenly appeared out of thin air to rake his name and reputation through the coals. For one moment set aside your emotions, and consider the facts before you.” Mordechai’s head swiveled once more, chasing that ever present but equally elusive send of lavender before continuing. “That it is truth to him does not make it truth, it makes it his truth. If you need evidence of this, take a quick circuit of Winterbrook, there are many in there that will tell you the ‘truth’ search their minds and you will see that it is the truth. Then consider why they are locked away from society, where they can do no harm. Perhaps that is what his maker should have done all those years before. Instead of releasing this monster on the citizens of Harper Rock, she should have had him committed. Or perhaps better yet, put him down then, like the cur he has become.” His eyes flicked once to the influx of more humans enter the bar, appraising them, and marking the two new arrivals that had arrived separately, yet sat together, he would be willing to bet they marked trouble, he had yet to meet a paladin that wasn't trouble of some sort, and the other, well she was associated with him.

“Elliot, can I call you Elliot? No matter. Elliot, you would have us believe you are a victim of circumstances, and I and all these fine people should feel pity for you.”Shaking his head he continued, “Poor, poor, poor Elliot. Just a victim of circumstance, nay the victim of an evil twin. That is the story you are selling tonight, you have even convinced Alex here it is true. Curiously though, she admits she has never seen him, never seen you and him together. Only in your dreams, where you have convinced yourself that he is attacking you. You do know that humans have pills for that, don't you? Maybe you should swing by Winterbrook, see if they have a spare bed. I hear they take in the criminally insane as well. You needn’t worry about your conquest, they do have visiting hours, you can still soil her lips in payment for whatever she owes you.” Stepping closer a smile lit his lips, though stopped short of his eyes, “That would seem a good option for you, as you are assuredly a criminal, let them decide the insane part, but at least it might save you some future pain. When I look into my crystal ball, I see only pain in your future. Lots and lots of pain. For you see Elliot, I can feel pity for a victim of circumstance, but only rage when the circumstance is of their own making. Make no mistake, you consorted with the devil, and you will pay.”

[Zodiac]

She walked along the streets in full regalia for a change. Mistress Zodiac– the fortune telling friendly witch for all to see. However, her normal, dominant purple/black color scheme was replaced with more Irish colors for the night. Besides her regula purse, a second bag hung over her other shoulder. From the depths of it, she pulled out copies of her ‘Survival Tips’ list and offered them to the people walking to and fro. It was the least she could do. Too many wild claims being made by people who think they know the truth. People tended to act first, then find out the information was wrong thanks to the new age of instant information. ‘Why do I have to go to the Government site? I read all I need to know on Twitter and Facebook.’

She silently wept for humanity as a whole most nights.

This list was simple and direct. A small banner across the top stating this was provided free of charge and no obligation expected from the reader by Pandora’s Box along with the usual spiel and the address/phone number. On the bottom a list of contact numbers for emergency and other vitals, how to get in contact with the forming militia, where to purchase quality weapons and where real training could be found. Some have mentioned to her she should be out on the streets taking the dead and other things down. Normally this would have been a gut reaction from the start, but too much has changed in too short of a time.

Zodiac was happy with the world before. As long as she was careful, the idea of her being a vampire was dismissed easily. Now she found herself walking a razor thin line on the subject. Too many questions and accusing eyes poking into her background now. To go out and be seen killing zombies and such (in her unique manner) would tear the last shred of doubt away. The part of her that found no crime in helping others was suddenly conflicted. Would said ‘others’ welcome her help or suddenly turn her existence into a living nightmare once all was said and done?

Considering all she had seen and heard and read recently from humanity as a whole? She’d provide information and nothing more. Her faith in understanding people had vanished.

As she turned a corner, she froze in mid step. A sizeable crowd was gathered and a news crew was in place. What the hell was going on?

”What am I about to walk into?”

She glanced at the sign on the establishment. Okay, she knew that name. It was on the list of stops for the ‘pub crawl’ some had been talking about. It amused her at the turnout for these things. People pretending to be Irish as an excuse to get **** faced was, in her view, somewhat of an offense to Irish history, but she didn’t argue it with anyone. People were stupid and drunk people doubly so. She considered crossing the street and bypassing the entire mess, but she could feel too many mortals involved here. There was a mob as well. Shouting out some of the biggest nonsense she had ever heard. She had wondered herself in the past if being a zombie was like being a vampire. A curable condition or something that could be endured?

Sadly, her own tests showed her it was 2 very different conditions. Zombies started out mindless and stayed that way. The only change was the gradual decomposing of the body. She had kept one in a cage for over a year to study it and eventually put it down when the poor thing could not even crawl to the bars due to the limbs rotting away.

How to approach the problem in front of her?

She approached the news crew first. She tugged on the reporter’s shoulder and showed him her ‘official’ ID that she was a business owner in good standing and a member of the CoC. She offered him one of her flyers and gestured at the crowd. Several more were passed out to the crew and then she pushed her way into the crowd. Her idea was to be a one way trip. In one end of the mob and out the other. As she inched her way along, she continued to hand out flyers. Judging by the reactions she started to hear behind her, her list was getting mixed reviews.

Zombie Survival 101

Tip 1. They don’t have brains so USE YOURS.

Tip 2. Be sure of what (and who) you are aiming at.

Tip 3. If you must hunt, do it in a group and STAY SOBER

Tip 4. Think, then act. NO hesitation.

Tip 5. You are faster than they are. If all else fails– RUN

Tip 6. Everything is better with friends. Travel in groups = safety in numbers.

Tip 7. Don’t get fancy. The simple answer is usually the best.

Tip 8. Trying to reason with them is useless.
They don’t care, they are hungry, and you are FOOD. Don’t be a meal.

Tip 9. NO ONE picks up a weapon and is an instant expert. TRAIN YOURSELF.

Tip 10. If in doubt– stay indoors.

Tip 11. If in doubt, demand an answer. Zombies can’t talk.

Tip 12. Eliminate all useless activities. (Your bartender and fave sport team will understand)

Tip 13. The media, friends, and Facebook will be full of information. Learn how to sort the facts from the garbage. Unleash the hidden powers of COMMON SENSE and CRITICAL THINKING.

Tip 14. Nothing lasts forever. Be smart, be safe, and this too shall pass in time.

She started to wonder if she'd be able to pass through the mob.

[Lancaster]

Lancaster was far too concerned with what was happening right in front of him to pay much attention to anything else. Only a cursory glance was spared for the fiery-headed Tierney as she passed him by. He’d nodded to let her know he’d heard, that he would join her when -- if -- things settled down. After the conversation was finished with this hulking idiot who seemed to be so stubbornly stuck in his belief of Lancaster’s wrong-doing that it wouldn’t matter what Lancaster did to prove him wrong. It wouldn’t matter what he said, or what evidence was provided -- evidence that would hold up in court -- this Mord would still believe Lancaster was wrong.

It was exactly the kind of person Lancaster disliked. Those who could not be reasonable, who could not have a normal conversation without throwing insults. Those who could not sit down and look at what was presented with them and have their minds changed.

Why should he even bother continuing this conversation? There was literally no point to it.

With the relic tucked into the corner of his pocket, Lanaster had felt the way the behemoth had rifled around in his brain earlier; he had telepathic abilities and, after Alexandrea presented the truth to Mord Lancaster assumed that he, too, would read his memories. Nothing was hidden, everything was open. Lancaster even made sure to present every recent memory with Camden, those were at the forefront of his mind. There was absolutely zero sexual activity. None. The man could not claim to be a gentleman when he would call a perfectly respectable woman a whore simply because of who she chose to associate with. All Lancaster could do was shake his head at Camden and gesture for her to take a step back. It was his fault she’d been brought into this at all, and he would apologise to her later.

Lancaster himself took a deep breath and reigned in his frustration. He even offered a smile.

”Trust me, if I thought that committing myself would help anyone, then I would do it without question. In fact, perhaps that is the solution? Lock me up. Keep a camera on me. Wait. If these attacks happen while I’m locked up and being observed, then I’ll be vindicated. If not? Well, commit me. I won’t fight it,” he said. So sure was he of his predicament, the truth of his words, that this was, to him, a fair deal.

”Let’s keep this between you and me. Alex here has backed me up but you’re unwilling to believe your friend. Let’s not ask her to pick a side,” he said. Although he couldn’t claim to know Alexandrea that well, he knew the woman to be of sound mind and believed that she must have a reason to be friends with this guy. So maybe some kind of common ground could be sought.

”It would not be an opening for you to torture me. Just lock me up and watch me. I don’t know who this devil is that I’ve supposedly consorted with but my intention has never been to harm. Not anyone. Not humans, not vampires. I loathe violence. I want peace. Quit insulting women just because they are associated with me -- she and I have never slept together, and I’d appreciate it if you would leave her alone. It was within my rights to want to be human again. As I have said, I wouldn’t have gone through with it had I known the consequences. I’m offering an olive branch -- agree to listen to me and try to understand my circumstances before jumping to conclusions, peacefully, and you can put me in a cage…” he said. He didn’t look at Camden. He didn’t look at anyone but the man in front of him. There were those who would not like his offer; they would tell him it was stupid. Idiotic. That he was going to get himself killed.

But, if it would lead to peace and understanding, to leading others to believe the cure was not a good thing, then the pros outweighed the cons.

[Alexandrea]

Alex couldn't help but cast her gaze around in vain searching for Amaranthia, despite her friend Mordechai's words. She couldn't explain why, even to herself. The temptation to use even her abilities to check up on the Elder was strong but Alexandrea had too much respect for the woman to do that.

So, instead, she kept looking around foolishly in hopes of spotting the Elder. She knew better, of course. There were too many ways to stay hidden and still be around if that was the case. And so there was no way without being nosy for Alex would ever know for sure or not, if Amaranthia was close at hand.

But she had a strong hunch the woman was staying close to her beloved, which made her happy for her friend Mordechai. Even without trying to pry, some of Alexandrea’s senses were just too open. Not that any sort of ‘vibe’ of the Elder would be unpleasant, far from it. The other woman had always seemed to be so perfectly feminine the few times Alex had been nearby the Elder, it was enjoyable to be around.

But Alex had no trouble dismissing her intuition, and shutting down her empathic side with her deciding that it was just her overactive imagination, or her far too romantic heart, or both... that had conspired to fool the blonde and carry her away into conjuring up some silly love story fantasy, thinking she felt something that wasn't there.

She actually chuckled briefly, positive her hunch had just all been in her head, and her flighty nature had just been creating something she had wished to see, a truly happy couple united as one. What a joke.

Having quickly made herself forget the frivolous romantic notion far more quickly than would be the norm for anyone else, Alexandrea Quartermaine forced her mind to shift gears faster than a train could jump its tracks. The males were still postering so neither the owner of the pub nor the giant killer had kept the blonde’s full attention for too long, Alex didn't care much for disagreements, she’d rather everyone tried to get along. But the two taller males didn’t seem to be getting any closer to getting along. She fancied for a moment that she could smell the unmistakable aroma of a surge of testosterone. Males. They were all the same, in one way or another. Her eyes lighted upon her new childe, Jack, and she grinned.

The Allurist went to wave at him again but then paused for a moment, wondering at first if he had spotted her yet or not, then paused with the afterthought to check on a phone app that she was actually wearing her own face. The blonde smiled sheepishly when she saw she really had only just changed her clothes, so she went ahead waved again at the new Quartermaine. She was glad she’d spotted him and thought he was adjusting very well, all signs pointing towards the young male being a keeper. She was still exploring just how much mothering he would tolerate, but it was all good.

Meanwhile, Elliot and Mordi were STILL having their ‘guy talk’ and Alex really didn’t want to get in the middle, honestly, but … well, she was nosey as hell and had the attention span of a magpie. The conflict couldn’t be ignored for long and the Allurist couldn’t resist chiming in, no matter how much effort she had put into distracting herself. She really DID always have the best of intentions...

“Just like a freaking Werewolf movie.” She chuckled, jumping into the conversation. Alexandrea went ahead and gave a deep and wicked laugh. “So many stories of the poor misunderstood Lycanthropes. Or the Jekyll and Hyde types. The sad anti-hero, letting themselves be locked up to either protect the innocent or try to prove their own innocence….” Her voice trailed off for a moment; “Whatever.” Alex sighed, meeting her friends both in the eyes and them keeping her gaze with Lancaster.

“I appreciate you not asking me to pick a side. And to be honest… I’m not sure what to believe, entirely. Elliot, I know you do believe what you’ve said. There is NO question in my mind that you are telling the truth. As you believe the truth to be.”

“But without seeing two of you side by side, how do we know you aren’t both? And you’ve just gone mad…”

She became very still and looked up at him with sad eyes. “I don’t think you’ve lost your mind. I really don’t. But without seeing for sure that there are TWO Lancasters? The most logical explanation is that there is only one Lancaster. But.. maybe with a split personality, or whatever the correct way to say it these days is. Sorry.”

“So. Yes. I agree that you need to be locked up, Elliot. To prove to everyone what’s real. Including yourself. One way or another.”

She pinched the bridge of her nose and wished she hadn’t said what she just had said. And a part of her screamed at herself to stop from offering what she was about to;

“But there must be safeguards. For everyone’s well being. And so… I’m willing to offer my help, and a place if needed, to make this thing happen to everyone’s satisfaction. Safely.”

[Jack Diddly]

Rabble rousing protestors poured through the pub’s entrance, like water down a drain. They had become about as numerous now as the many shamrocks the decorated the establishment. The young vampire felt as though he were swimming in a sea of bodies. The press of bodies was thick and putty like and the air was equally so with their acrid smell. Jack wasn’t sure if it was just the odor of a worked up mob or the actual stench of decay. The possibility that a few of the creatures had snuck in among the mayhem was not very far fetched. Especially with everyone’s attention turned elsewhere. Whatever it was, it was certainly overwhelming to the senses. And then there were the heartbeats...they seemed to be rhythmically pounding like the melodies of so many different drums around him, ringing out above the drone of the crowd. "Keep swimming Jack, don’t drown.” Spiritual advice in the most literal sense. May was right though, biting as her voice may have been. Jack needed to focus, he needed to stay afloat.

A young woman who seemed to be at the head of the movement jumped up onto a table. She towered above most of the crowd, but was about on level with the party crasher and the cured vampire. As Jack regained the bearings of his supernatural senses, he detected the familiar sounds of soldiers or perhaps police officers. It was some organization trying to assert authority over the crowd that was flowing into the bar, more than likely they had herded them inside. Suspicious by nature, the entire protest screamed of advanced planning rather than something that had arisen organically. Sizing up the girl who seemed to hop from table to table like a frog on a lily pad, Jack couldn’t imagine that she was the true ringleader.

It was the mention of evil twins that brought Jack’s attention back to the dispute between the proprietor and the party crasher. He swallowed hard and directed his hearing in that general direction. He pushed his way a bit closer, just to keep the background noise from drowning out anything really important. The vampire hid himself among the crowd, near enough to listen in, but far enough away as to not seem intrusive. Alex caught his eye and shot him a smile with a cheerful wave. He waved back. They were discussing the doppelganger and the words May had spoken to him on the night of his death returned to mind, ‘Reflections are deceptions.’ Initially, the young allurist thought the she had literally been referring to his reflection in a mirror. After all, it’s corpse like appearance was quite a deception! Something was eating at him now though about those simple, cryptic words. “What did you mean by that?” The vampire asked his persistent phantom aloud. A man in front of him turned with a questioning look, Jack waved him off. May, for once, was silent. She often was when Jack asked for wisdom. The woman, in life, had never been that way.

The atmosphere could be described as hot with contempt, with prejudice. Even with Alex slicing away at some of the tension, Jack sensed that the general crowd around them were not too pleased. Not just with the soldiers that had invaded their streets or the zombies that occupied their town, but with vampires. He picked up on sneers and disparagements from the mortal folks on the scene. Especially when a the zombie SJW from earlier reentered the bar screaming about the Geneva conventions with a camera following her around. She was right, a serious crime had been committed against her people and she was playing right into the hand of the criminals who were perpetrating it. The zeal that Jack caught in her eyes as she passed by him through the crowd, led him to believe she’d never know it though. She was a true believer and she’d die that way, murdered by the results of the cause she championed, thinking she’d done the right thing. He shook his head with a sad smile, crossing his arms across his chest.

Alex waved again, Jack took a few more steps through the crowd towards her. As Alex played peacekeeper, Jack could not help but wonder about the whole show. Did this man, the tallest leprechaun in the land, really have some kind of split in his personality, two minds inhabiting the same body? Was there a monster inside of the proprietor as his sire seemed to attest to? The Crasher seemed confident in backing his claims. Locking up the barkeep might be the best thing to do. He’d even offered to surrender himself to prove his innocence. Still May’s words continued to ring through his mind, leaving him with a strange and uneasy feeling. She laughed, it was dark and almost maniacal.

[Mordechai]

“I did not say that I was unwilling to believe Alex… I simply stated that as we both say we tell no lies, and both believe we are telling the truth… that one does not need to lie, to be wrong, simply have been misguided, similar to the vampires that thought letting humans know we exist would make things better…” Spreading his hands towards the doorway he continued, “And look how well that worked out. Already their troops have covered the city, blockading the exits, but allowing humans to flee… Or have you not noticed the barricades on the streets as you kept yourself inhere partying, and ignoring the fate of the world around you. I know it goes against everything you believe in DarTois, but for once think of others, and what your choices have caused, you and the others like you.” The killer paused as he listened to Alex reiterating her thoughts and offering up an answer to the dilema before shaking his head. “If he is serious, let it be Winterbrook. They have the appropriate...restraints, for one such as him. A neutral third party, that is trained in what is necessary is the best choice Alex. If he is serious, he will commit himself. If he does not, well…” Restless eyes had noticed the approach of the Quartermaine spawn. And Mordechai acknowledged him once more with a nod of the head.. “I see you have been busy Alex”

[Lancaster]

The Shade had no knowledge of holidays or celebrations.

The Shade didn’t care about the rift, or the zombies.

The Shade had only one sole focus, and it was revenge. Rage broiled in his blood, clutched at his core; he wasn’t a man, nor could he really be called a vampire. Technically, yes, but metaphorically? He was built from fury. That’s all he was. He kept no lasting relationships, he had no friends. He was rage with Tourette’s, liable to attack everyone, anyone, despite their race, age, species, or philosophy. But there was one person he hated the most, one person for whom the rage was kept alive. One person who the Shade strangely didn’t want to see dead (perhaps, deep down, he wondered whether killing his adversary would be also to kill himself?), but nor could he let them live a life of freedom and comfort.

The pub was up ahead. The closer the Shade got, the angrier he became. There was a crowd out front. There were soldiers, too. Hindrances. The Shade had not showered; his clothes were stiff with dried blood. Whose? He didn’t know, nor did he care. His features were twisted, the rage evident in every harsh line.

Closer still, he pulled the sword from its sheath at his back; a single-handed blade.

A few more steps and the fully loaded automatic firearm was unhooked from the holster at his waist.

The crowd meant nothing to the Shade. In fact, he loved crowds! If only so that he could mow them down like weeds in a field. He started with a woman, she might perhaps have been in her 20s. The blade sliced her from shoulder to hip and her voice curdled as she screamed. The next was her boyfriend, who turned in horror as his girlfriend went down; he got a bullet to the neck.

Next, and next, onwards the Shade ploughed until he’d reached the entrance to the pub, taking down any who got in his way. A bullet caught him in the shoulder as a soldier tried their best to take him down from a distance, but to no avail.

Inside, the Shade roared.

It took him two seconds to find his target, to then stride through the pub like the lunatic serial killer that he was, black trench swirling around his legs. The blade was hefted, the swing was precise, and then….

Nothing.

The blade missed.

What fresh hell was this?!

”WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!” he bellowed.

Now, the rage was palpable. It rolled from the Shade in tsunamic waves. He had but one goal, and he was prevented. And this ‘Lancaster’ would pay…

[Lancaster]

The laughter from Alexandrea was unexpected. The two might not have known each other that well but Lancaster knew that were their roles reversed, he’d take her seriously. Even if he didn’t believe her, as Alex herself appeared not to believe Lancaster (which, in and of itself, felt like a betrayal of whatever relationship they did have) he wouldn’t laugh at her, as if her situation wasn’t dire. This woman whom Lancaster had thought a friend instead compared him to a trope, a silly sad man who, if he understood her correctly, was overreacting.

She’d know what he was feeling, and thought he might have made an effort to bottle it up and throw up walls to keep her out, the strength and power of his emotion was unbridled. And anyway, a person wouldn’t have had to have the power to read emotions to know that Lancaster was hurt, disappointed. He wore his emotions on his sleeves; it was right there in his eyes as he frowned down at the blonde.

Winterbrook was again mentioned, and Lancaster shook his head. There was something niggling at the back of his brain, a sharp shard of a migraine threatening to overwhelm when he tried to pick at it. There was a reason why he would go nowhere near Winterbrook, even if it was the logical place to go. There was a fear, a terror, that though he knew he would soon be proven innocent and not mad, he’d still be locked up. They wouldn’t let him go, regardless. No, he wanted nothing to do with that place.

In the end, it didn’t matter. Though Lancaster was ready to respond, to say no to Winterbrook, to agree to anywhere else, all words were stifled, stuck in his throat as the screams erupted from outside. As soon as the silhouette of his evil twin appeared in the doorway, the blood drained from Lancaster’s face. The roar, the sound of that Shade’s voice to like his own, sent a chill down Lancaster’s spine. He straightened, pushing Camden back and away.

The Shade approached, a monster on a mission. Lancaster flinched as the blade sliced through the air – and then…

Nothing.

No pain. No agony. No wound. Just a furious Shade kept at bay by a ritual, inhibiting all violence.

Lancaster relaxed, if only slightly. His blue eyes gleamed; he refuse to look at Camden, not wanting to know what she was thinking, or feeling. He was ashamed.

Instead, his sharp gaze turned to Alex, to Mordechai, brow raised.

If he was mad, they wouldn’t see the Shade. If he was mad, the Shade would be invisible, and in his imagination.

So he waited, wordless, for their reaction, ignoring the vicious, violent vitriol that the Shade quite literally spat in his direction.

[Tierney]

The petite redhead ordered drinks for herself and Samson, ignoring the large pulsating crowd of dancers until one came too close to her comfort. A glare and after the threat of harm followed, Tierney turned on her camera to record the conversation between Lancaster and the giant. All the same, she leaned forward and spoke to the mountain man near her. "The lead and information giver I mentioned previously?" She nodded towards Elliot, her green catlike eyes watching patiently. Taking in every detail as she noticed the conversation going on. She'd read the lips upon the recording later.

"He has an evil clone that is a result of that cure that they lost in Longslade."

She explained, as if she were just explaining the weather.

She listened to the music playing, ignoring the way that the beat mixed with the cheering caused her eyebrow to twitch. Truthfully, Tierney didn't like crowds. She didn't like people very much, but she knew they needed to gather more. She knew they needed more allies for the Order and she knew that sitting away at her desk would do nothing in the end. Her tongue rang over her teeth as she lifted the wine she'd requested for herself and took a drink.

There were screams coming from the outside that caused Tierney to draw her firearm. People scattered and before she knew it, there it was. And it missed. "Well, I think there's one way to trap it in a room." She said to herself, but nudged Samson before pointing, "I don't suppose you have any ideas on how to deal with this thing?" Or injure it. Tierney could feel the power blowing through her system.

She could feel where she could access it - but she could also feel the mysterious force making it so that she couldn't. She supposed it was the reason the blade hadn't cut through the human man that it was furious with. "Call an ambulance." Tierney snapped at a patron while she kept an eye on the shade and Lancaster, making her way towards the exit where the soldier lay bleeding. His chest still rose and fell, the sorceress reaching down to heal the worse of the wounds.

[Camden (DELETED 10212)]

There was far too much happening at once.

In front of her, the giant with his school-grade insults had been joined by a small blonde, who Camden immediately dismissed as inconsequential the moment she chose to dismiss Elliot’s truth. Somewhere outside, a soldier shouted, and a protestor fought back. That didn’t require her attention, either. No, the biggest threat - the more pressing issue - was the behemoth. In the span of a few seconds, the conversation had taken a turn. No longer were they discussing his conquests, by instead, his sanity. Clenching her jaw, she gave a sharp shake of her head and held up a hand, forgetting for a moment she was nothing but average, and that she could easily be ripped apart. “That’s enough. Insult me all you please, but when you start to call his sanity into question, that’s when I draw the line.”

She knew, even as the words rolled from her tongue, that she was painting a target on her back. That didn’t stop her. If they wanted to fault her for standing at his side, for defending him when no one else would, then let them. Pressing her trembling hand to his back, she let her attention on the giant, bright eyes flashing. “You heard his truth and yet you refuse to believe it. That doesn’t change that it’s reality.” The words - while soft spoken - held more of a bite than she had intended. Her nerves frayed, she waved her hand towards the pair before shifting her attention to her partner. “You are not going anywhere. You are not insane, nor are you hurting anyone. I know you. I know who you are, and those that love you will know the same. We believe your truth.” Shifting her attention from him to the vampire, she shook her head. How could someone exude such strength, but lack a moral compass? He was as cruel and violent as he claimed Elliot to be, and yet, he found no fault within himself.


Pressing her fingers to the bridge of her nose, she took a sharp breath - preparing for another word - before the screams silenced her. Instinctively, she pressed into her partner, her fingers twisting into the cotton of his costume. The commotion was enough to force her gaze from the trio, as finally, something far more important happened. Her gaze automatically landed on the man, his features sending fear straight into her heart. He resembled Elliot in all ways, except for the firestorm in his eyes. The rage she witnessed stole her breath, and as he honed in on them, she fought not to run. Standing her ground, she held her breath as the blade swung.

When the man roared, she flinched, a small sound escaping her. It was clear, then, that the behemoth was no longer the largest threat. No, it was the shadow of a man. His rage pulsed throughout the pub, threatened to swallow them whole and burn them alive…

And still, she moved.

Stepping around the wall of muscle that her Elliot had created to protect her, she stood at his side and reached out. The moment her hand landed on the shade, he snapped his head in her direction, a feral growl vibrating from his chest. “You can’t hurt anyone here, that is what he has done. You’ve caused enough trouble for this town, you don’t get to cause anymore tonight. Leave.” The words left her with more strength she possessed, and she was surprised there was only one crack in the middle. Despite the fury that threatened to burn her skin, she kept her hand on his chest - and tried to lead him to the door with a single push.