Path of the Vampire forum

Posted: **05 May 2016, 21:47**

The man across from Lorenzo Dragomir began to sweat. Just a sheen at first, small drops of it slowly rolling down the florid cheeks from his forehead. To his credit he made no other move of discomfort, in fact if his viewer hadn't been a vampire it might have even gone unnoticed. As it stood however, Enzo could hear that small increase in heart rate, the shallow wheeze from clenched lungs... the scent of pheromones set loose by the dawning of fear.

And Enzo wanted this man to fear him.

The office was quiet aside from the myriad sounds preternatural ears could pick up.. subtle things really when there wasn't anyone left to disturb the silence. The Allurist slowly exhaled his Sobranie smoke, the blue tinge of it adding to the beginnings of a panic the vampire was slowly working toward. The breath had been held just a little to long... not enough to be noticeable, but enough to stir that primal instinct that screamed something was off... something was wrong here.

Lorenzo rolled the cigarette around his fingers, watching the neon tip heat in the air as it moved, the scent warm with a tinge of clove laced through the black beauty. He hadn't moved his gaze for at least five minutes, letting the silence build yet more discomfort, drag out that desire to speak, to fill the silence in any attempt to prove to yourself you weren't afraid. He exerted none of his powers, he was going old school on this one, meting out intimidation the way his father had taught him... it kept him in touch with his cruel streak. One lost their edge when they relied on powers over much...

Finally Enzo's patience was rewarded, the man leaned forward and slid the photographs toward him, the pictures that had been tossed onto the table for his perusal wholly ignored thus far. The man had decided greed won out over living. "Look here mister Dragomir sir. These pictures are worth twice what you are offering... hell some would pay triple for these..." his voice was deep and spoke of places that had woods beginning with 'dark' or 'black' evil ethereal mind ******* places... though now Enzo knew that they had once been inhabited by creatures such as he, and the God's only knew what else that wanted nothing more than to eat every village virgin while ******* the maypole.

Primordial places...places Enzo needed to get to.

Still the vampire said nothing, did not so much as move... another play on fear. He hadn't moved... breathed in the past 3.3 minutes... not so much as a twitch... as the 3 minutes turned to 5 he finally moved, one must keep up the illusion of humanity after all, but the further assault clearly had the man off kilter. "I've had the money we agreed upon wired into your Munich account. That will be all." Enzo easily lied and then looked toward the door at Bertram who stepped in as if called and held the door for his masters guest.

The man was no fool and decided he needed to live to try again another day... he got up with a quick head bow, the sweat dripping down his nose now, his heart racing, the pulse beating against his skin as if serenading the predator loosed upon his world. Enzo's eyes flashed and looked again at Bertram who stepped fully into the room, slowly shut the door and locked it. 'The floor is clear Master Lorenzo." he said. The manservant had not been opening the door to show their guest out... he was locking them in.

It dawned on the detective as well and he scrabbled backwards almost falling over his chair but catching himself in time. It was becoming apparant he was nothing more than a plaything for his latest employer. Enzo ever mindful of business contacts usually would not be so crass, but this one had tried to sell those pictures out from under him, trying to pick up a few more dollars. He was doing the underworld a favour by killing this one.

Still Enzo was silent. Slowly he reached out and slid with one finger toward him the photos. Looking down he could see they were quite well done, the figures ******* in the glossy were grade a model material. Both in leather straps, one with a ball gag and several orifices made busy, the other obviously in the masters position, dominating, taking, *******... was the woman. The gimp was none other than a highly reputable Judge who won his seat by virtue of his virtues. Very amusing this. The allurist could hear the mans heartbeat begin to slow, his fear receding as hope eternal spoke to him, promising him he wouldn't be harmed once his boss saw the quality of his work....

A loud rapport sounded through the office as the man fell backward in almost comical slow motion, the look of shock priceless as he died completely confused as to what just happened. Enzo didn't even grace the man enough respect to look up from the photos, having aimed his gun at the sound of his victims heart. Laying the handgun smoking and hot on his desk, he picked up the photos and handed them to Bertram "Put them into my safe at the Condo. Tomorrow put them in one of my random safety deposit boxes."

The door to the office once again slid open and a small man, no larger than a teen swept in and went instantly into attention stance. "Jacobs." Enzo said only, letting the man know he was to clean up the mess now. One never knew with Enzo, sometimes he needed parts for his beautiful Necromancers. Not tonight however and his cleanup crew got to work. "Bertram did you manage to find where the woman Poppy resides?" Already moving on to the next order of business, late for his appointment with his family at their local, he walked toward his manservant and then moved with him from the office toward the elevators "Yes Master Dragomir. I have her location."

"Good. Watch her. That one will be my heir."

Posted: **08 May 2016, 14:00**

The sun had gone down, and yet Penelope was still at work. That was what happened when one consumed the blood of the wild vampires that paraded the sewers; sometimes it was the only choice that she had. It wasn’t what she preferred, but when one had a dependence, all kinds of measures had to be taken.

The blood had been consumed only the night before. It was normally three days or so before she felt the effects wearing off; in the first two days, she was subject to heightened stamina. Often, she was asked if she was on some kind of drug. The response she would give was a husky, deep laugh and a steadfast no. It wasn’t a lie. No one had officially stamped vampire blood as a drug. She was high, but it wasn’t on any drug that any human could source for her.

Although the woman had clocked off two hours ago, she remained behind to work on her own bike. The doors were half open to allow the fresh air to drift in; crisp, but not as cold as it had been the past few months. Warmer weather was coming, and the snow had all melted. It was her favourite time of the year.

Some of her hard-earned pay had been spent on a good set of Bose wireless speakers, which she had her phone hooked up to via Bluetooth. Spotify played a list compiled by her interest. The Yeah Yeah Yeahs’ Heads Will Roll currently played, and Penelope’s body danced along with the rhythm, singing along when lyrics came along that she recalled. Her hair was a mess; she’d come to work with it neatly tucked beneath a bandana, but the bandana had since been discarded, used to wipe grease from her hands.

The finishing touches were applied; her bike was serviced, and would now run like a dream. Penelope climbed into the saddle, kicking the accelerator to bring the vehicle roaring to life. She gave an elated whoop! as the bike rumbled and purred between her thighs. Yes. She was finally done for the day. The bike still purring, Penelope went to the office to grab her bag, her helmet, and her leather jacket. The speaker was switched off and shoved away, headphones plugged into the phone still playing music. The item was shoved into the inside of her leather jacket, which was zipped up, over grease stains and god knows what else. The buds were shoved into her ears, the helmet pulled down over her head.

The city was now hers. Work was done and sleep was for the weak. She’d probably only get a couple of hours before she had to be back at work again. When high on the blood of vampires, she was far more energetic at night time, anyway. The darkness called to her in ways that she knew she should ignore and avoid, but she couldn’t help it. She liked the danger. She enjoyed the adrenaline. The adrenaline, really, was the things she was addicted to, and chasing down vampires for their blood was just one way to get it.

Home. She would go home and change out of her work clothes and into something a little more provocative. Or, if not provocative, something a little more dangerous. She wanted to have some fun. She wanted to provoke some people. She wanted kisses with fists and shouting from rooftops. She wanted vandalism and anarchy. The streets of Harper Rock were the perfect place for her.

Posted: **20 May 2016, 16:10**

The light on the cellphone went dim as he ceased the connection with Bertram. He slid it into the inside pocket of his suit jacket, a luxurious jet black number from Ermenegildo Zegna a generational house that had been creating for aristocracy for two hundred years. The dragon felt most at home in the designs of this family, it was like putting on his real face. It didn't 'say' power. It 'was' power... if you didn't have it, you couldn't afford it. He had met men on Wall street that would have happily knifed him in the throat to take just the waistcoat. Custom mades were by invitation only, making him a walking billboard for the sweet sin covet.

Lorenzo Vaughn Dragomir was no stranger to desire. He used it like someone else would use a pen, or knife. It could create or cut depending on his whims. Lucky for most he had been on a creative kick lately, focusing on his own families House. Dragomir was growing exponentially and it had become a matter of pride to this Dragon to help it along. His own Sire having woken from a long sleep not long ago seemed intent on taking as much of the night for his own as he could. That was fine with the Allurist, it meshed with his own talents and desires and he knew now that his Sire had one of the finest eyes for childer in all of Harper's Rock... Enzo often wondered if that talent was possessed by so few as an evolutionary precaution... keep the weak down so to speak.

Whatever it was Nikolae had it in spades, game over, game won. His own brother Azraeth was living proof of that. You didn't even need to look down the line at all the other talent, beauty, brains, brawn and shear glorious wickedness... but hell you may as well, it was a beautiful painting on a wall of graffiti. His own Mortll was all of that and more, the Dragoness displaying so many gifts it took his breath away sometimes. There was nothing he wouldn't offer her, gift her. It had become almost a hoard game of Dragons... he would state what he wished to gift her, and she would state she had three of those. It amused him to no end and screamed strength, conviction and downright skill. He knew she was his mate and would make it so in truth... she just didn't know it yet.

As the Allurist mused over his family, his mind curved back toward his cause for the evening and he nodded at his security team as he passed through Dragonal's lobby. Bertram had been instructed to take his car home, his beloved Jag, and wait for his arrival before dawn. A small curve of firm lips barely showed through the elegant cut of his beard and he passed through the doors out into the cool Canadian night. Spring was here with a vengeance and the streets were slick with water from the drizzle that seemed unlikely to end any time soon. That was fine by him, it did nothing but mask his presence as his prey would be as all humans were, avoiding the wet air.

Lorenzo was hunting a blood thief tonight.

The little monster didn't realize she was about to be named heiress.

This thought made his smile grow as he pushed up the tinted glasses that hid his icy grey gaze with their elliptical pupils, the mark of the dragon, focusing on the directions his manservant had given him. Slowly he made his way though the light crowds of humans making their way hurriedly out of this weather, letting their blood scent bring that familiar tingle to his skin. He let the scents wash over him, the warmth from the living flesh brushing against him take his thoughts to rending and tearing, teasing himself with the possibility of a meal. Honing his hunting skills into the sharpness of his Montante and twice as deadly. He needed his mind focused on the kill tonight, there was nothing that would stand in his way of plucking this particular Poppy from her field.

He didn't know how he recognized her as his, he just knew that she was. If one had put thought to paper and weighed out pros and cons, Poppy was a monstrous little thing. Truly self absorbed and in need of a lifetime of childhood disciplines, the Dragon wasn't phased surprisingly. She would learn. Or she would die.

He had sworn to his sire that very thing. If Penelope did not turn well then Enzo would take her out of the city and kill her himself. Bury her just at the line of rebirth so she could never come back, given true death.

He understood this as a necessity. He was surrounded by idiotic vampires every night who should have been staked a week after conception when it was clear they were grossly brain damaged, filthy, human huggers who wished to pretend they didn't have fangs. Humans were thralls in waiting. Food. Convenience and perhaps the occasional ****. Nothing more. But as with any herd you had to keep them calm and well fed, believing they ruled their pastures. One didn't hug their hamburger.

Pathed humans were different... though in Lorenzo's mind they were no longer human at all so didn't fit in that picture. How he adored Sorcerers and loathed Paladins... how he tolerated Blood thieves... hell he was about to take one as his childe. IF she didn't become a monumental disappointment.

Once more surfacing from those thoughts he looked at the address on the building beside him, his soon to be childe's home, and nodded. This was it... and yes there was the pub across from it, just as Bertram had described. Perfect. The Allurist would wait his prey out with a warmed brandy and cigar.

Posted: **09 Jun 2016, 13:12**

The streets were swarming with entertainment. No, there were no street performers or fireworks. There were no fairs or market stalls. The entertainment was, instead, the masses. Everyone had a story. Everyone was different. Every personality was a shining gem, its facets ready to be explored and admired. Even the detestable were entertainment; to see them scheme and strut. The social strata were varied and complex, and Penelope’s favourite hobby was to throw herself into the mess, to wander from one stratum to the next to find where best she fit – to mingle with those of similar tastes and wit, and to laugh at the rest.

The bike’s roar settled to a lower growl as she pulled up in the small parking lot down the side of the apartment building. There was a space just for her, and yet she used only a quarter of it. The bike continued its low rumble as Penelope’s leg stretched to balance herself and the vehicle; slender fingers tugged the helmet from her head, which she placed on the seat behind her before killing the ignition. The night rushed into the absence of sound; music from the pub across the road, the laughter and shrieking of humanity having its fun.

Penelope took the stairs up two at a time. An ordinary person might have been exhausted after a long day at work - Penny had been exhausted, until the sun had set and the stars came to life – but now her skin itched with restlessness. The urge to move crawled beneath it, thrummed in her veins like liquid fire.

The apartment was small – a studio, really. Just inside the door, to the left, was the bathroom which also doubled as a laundry. To the right was the kitchen, which took up a small corner. The fridge was only a bar fridge, but she had only to feed herself, and she didn’t need much room. She ate out most days, anyway. Ahead of her were floor to ceiling windows, the panes old and the corners caked with years of pollution. And yet, Penelope always enjoyed the way the light reflected through the dirt; it was warm. It was lived in. A bench had been installed against the wall near the windows, upon which were scattered different mechanical parts, sketches of engines, designs of bikes she had yet to refurbish. To the left were a couple of stairs which led up to the bedroom – the space open, with no doors. When Penelope turned on the lights, no bulbs lit up. Instead, a string of fairy lights, drooped in various loops and pinned to the ceiling lit up the space in a dim, warm light.

Penelope was sometimes sensitive to too much light.

The leather jacket was hung on the door, the messenger back tossed onto the kitchen bench as Penelope headed straight for the shower.

Fifteen minutes later she stood in front of the old standing mirror, straightening out her outfit before leaning forward to apply a subtle smattering of make-up. There was no point getting too involved, when the make-up had usually been melted or rubbed off by the end of the evening.

In the end, she had opted for provocative. The black dress fit snugly, the cords at the sides holding it together. And yet, most would call it modest, given its covering of cleavage. Meaning – no cleavage was on show. Penelope liked the way the dress accentuated her shoulders, the blades at the back, the subtle tattoos etched into her alabaster skin. On her feet, she wore shiny black doc martens. From the hook by the door she retrieved the small purse with its thin strap, making sure she had ID, cards, phone, and keys. Ready, she headed for the door.

Attire

Posted: **13 Sep 2016, 19:48**

The scotch felt warm against his lip as he savoured the taste of the single barrel beauty. It seemed his Penelope lived in a neighborhood with hidden gems... much like herself. The pub was dark in both wood and lighting, the scent of rich beer and earthy wines permeated everything while he enjoyed the Indie Dark Folk music that was softly playing in the background. His fingers tightened around the rocks glass for a moment as he shifted in his seat to gain a better advantage of the building across the way.

The area was eclectic enough that he blended into the surroundings, his tailor made suit of Italian design no more out of place than the trendy leathers two tables down. The crowd was a mix of young bucks looking to gain some liquid courage before angling toward the noisier meat lockers to get lucky, and thirty somethings who looked for liquid forget before going home to their sofas and the latest OITNB. Businessman with heads bent together and taking advantage of the free food that came at happy hour while trying to appear far more prosperous than they were, glanced his way a few times before going back to their own happenings.

Lorenzo had no issues with his aloneness. He felt no discomfort with being here minus a gaggle of friends or hangers on... he'd never been one to need the comfort of others, rather enjoying his own thoughts and company whenever allowed. And it was rarely enough allowed that he savoured that as much as the scotch in his hands. He had known that hunting Penelope would be a thing of enjoyment and he was pleased to be proven right. It did not bother him in the least waiting for her to come back down from whatever she was doing in her apartment... he was certain one such as she would not linger there on a weekend night brimming with the things she herself hunted...

His kind.

He was feeling magnanimous really, and had decided to let her believe that she was the hunter tonight. He would mind where she was off too and from there he would put himself just out of reach... tantalizing with the possibility of eternal youth and 'life'. He knew that she was more already than human... what were those lyrics? Oh yes, more human than human.... fitting. It was not so very long until he spied her descending the buildings stoop, a light step and sultry ensemble causing young men to not only step aside, but stare at her as she went.

Amused despite himself, he dropped a hundred on the table and nodded to the barkeep before slipping out the doors himself, taking his time, allowing his preternatural senses to keep pace with the young woman. A beautiful night indeed... and his heir was out to make it her own.

Posted: **16 Sep 2016, 12:36**

There were always going to be ruffians; there were always going to be men and women who thought themselves above social etiquette. The unspoken rights and wrongs were completely invisible to some – especially to the men who stepped out in front of Penny, barring any more forward motion.

Penelope was headed for the Necropolis; it was a well-known spot for vampire-kind, and she’d found quite a few willing donors within its walls. Tonight, she didn’t particularly want to work for her high. She wanted to have some fun with an added bonus. Navigating a city such as Harper Rock, however, could be a tricky business. The roads and pathways were an escarpment, and the ruffians were the rocks that threatened to trip and crumble.

”What’s the password, beautiful?” one of the men asked. They didn’t look too bad, really – if they were gentlemen, if they really tried to win women in an honest and fair way, they would probably have no issues. And yet, they enjoyed watching women squirm. They enjoyed belittling them in ways to make themselves feel stronger and taller. Penelope often wondered about men these days, and whether they act the bullies because underneath it all, they were actually terrified that women were going to take over the world.

”Funny,” she said with a wry smirk before heading toward the curb, willing to step onto the street to get past the obstruction. Except her path was blocked by the second man, who stepped off the curb in front of her. A sigh breezed past Penelope’s lips as she raised her sharp eyes, eyeing each of the man individually.

”Serious. There’s a password. If you can’t tell us the password, you owe us a kiss,” the first clown suggested. His friend laughed – as if they hadn’t even rehearsed this. Maybe they hadn’t. Maybe they were just bored. Penelope nodded, as if she were seriously suggesting their offer – as if she’d give them both a nice big kiss on the lips and more, just so that she could get past. While they were caught off guard, her body swayed so that she could deliver a swift and hefty kick to the groin of the second man, the one blocking her path. He shouted and doubled over and she swivelled past him, laughing and giving one small squeal of amusement as the second man tried to reach for her and failed. He was torn between chasing her down and helping his friend.

”You crazy *****!” he called while she continued on her way, nonplussed, grinning like she’d won the lottery.

Of course she was a crazy *****. Men, these days – so ******* entitled.

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