Path of the Vampire forum

Embrie: This town was strange, and the more she looked, the stranger it got. Vampires, zombies, a big scary corporation trying to dominate the city. And she’d thought NOLA was strange. She gave a shake of her head and sighed, kicking at a clump of snow. One thing this town certainly was, was ******* cold. But the cold could be cured with a good, stiff drink. And thus, she lifted her head and scanned the buildings, her odd colored eyes drawing a few stares that she met with a resting ***** face perfected from years living on the streets of New Orleans. It was her best talent, second only to grifting tourists and lightening their pockets without them knowing.

She finally spotted a place that looked promising. High Noon Saloon. Interesting. A country bar in a vampire city. Well she’d seen stranger things. Pushing the door open, she slid inside and paused, letting her eyes adjust to the lighting, as well as trying to get a feel for the place. The first thing her eyes landed on was the black clad cowboy. She thought at first he was just a convincing statue, but there was some small movement that gave him away. Well that was certainly intimidating.

She wrinkled her pert little nose and shook off the cold before lifting her chin and striding confidently up to the bar. She kept the ridiculously tall man in the periphery of her vision, even as she slid off her coat and leaned bare arms on the polished wood. A black tank top was certainly not winter wear in the North. “Whiskey, neat, and a shot of tequila.” She said when the bartender finally came over. One black booted foot came to rest on the low brass bar, a hand hooking into the belt loop of her black jeans. It all looked casual, but really she was slyly reaching for weapons, keeping the knife in her boot close, and the one in her pocket at the ready.

She tossed down the shot of tequila and then picked up her whiskey glass for a sip. There were plenty of places to sit, but she was reluctant. Something about the tall man made her uneasy and if things went south, it was easier to run when you were already on your feet.

Mordechai: :The winter cold usually increased business. At least in the two establishments where the killer was often employed as a fill in bouncer. This night though, it seemed the denizens of Harper Rock were all nestled snug in their beds. The Necro was quiet, but its proprietor was busy with end of the month paperwork sitting in her office behind reams of paper preparing for taxes. Mordechai had slipped out after pressing a chaste kiss to the top of her head. He would return when the final locks were turned, escorting the diminutive allurist through the scrum of humans that plagued the city hunting the weaker of his race. Raising his head he scented the air, no trace of the vegan brothers, it should be safe for now.

A short walk south brought him to the river bank, ice brushed the shores but still the center ran fast, rippling over the rocks. No one would ever accuse Mordechai of being humanity’s savior, but the brobdingnagian killer walked with an easy assurance down the bank, across the ice, and then straight across the flowing water into Coastside. It had been awhile since he had checked in at the Saloon. At seven foot- ten the three hundred twenty pound male was an imposing force of nature wherever he went, but in the High Noon it was often a welcome advantage as even the smallest man with the largest Napoleon complex did not mess with him. A nod to the bouncer and a quick query let him know his titian haired friend was not on the premises. A few nods greeted regulars as he finally ended his journey at the end of the bar, tapping one finger on the bar as he leaned against the wall, the heel of one spiked NewRock pressed to the wall, a springboard into action, if trouble came calling.

And…. trouble it is. Heterochromatic eyes had tracked the strange female across the room, but then dismissed her, even though she had had a grace of movement that was seldom seen in a city dweller. The movement of slipping from her jacket had drawn his eyes momentarily, followed by a snap of the shaggy head when the black tank was revealed beneath it… and the tank had revealed sigils and runes tattooed across once virgin skin. A low rumble started low in his chest as he pushed upright. A paladin. Four had now met their fate at his hands, and seemed a fifth was making their play. One finger tipped the everpresent stetson deeper across his brow as he began the slow smooth stalk of a jungle cat, gliding effortlessly through the sparse crowd to reach the bar at her side. Leaning forward he caught the tenders eye as he slightly crowded the newcomer. The first words of the night rolled off his lips with the gravely resonance of an artic stream tumbling across granite, “O- neg, doll”


Embrie: She saw the man moving, and soon he was stopped beside her. Almost too close. Close enough she could dip her hands in his pockets if she wanted. Instead, she shifted her weight, her hip jutting out as a result. Her foot came off the bar, since the shift in weight would have her off balance if she didn’t plant both feet on the hardwood. Her hands were kept around the glass as unease walked fingers down her spine. A clench of her jaw kept the shiver from following.

The giant spoke and it took her minute to process what he’d said. O-neg. As in blood? She watched while trying, and probably failing, to look uninterested. Sure enough it was blood. Huh, so it seemed the rumors about this town were true. The bartender looked at her and she smiled, even as long fingers scratched lightly over her arm, as if to chase away an itch. “Tequila, please.” She hooked a thumb into her belt loop, dropping her other hand for a moment and shaking it out.

The Hulk was too close for comfort for her and something told her he did it on purpose, though she wasn’t sure why. She just wanted to drink. Although with him standing so close, she wanted to throw a chair at him. And the longer he stood there, the more intense the feeling got. She ignored it and blew out a slow breath, raising a hand slightly to signal for another shot. Once it was placed before her, she tossed it back, then sipped her whiskey, while subtly stepping to the right to increase the space. She watched him from the corner of her blue eye, though a single green and a single blue eye occasionally flitted to the mirror whenever she would look up. Though after the first time or two, she tried to avoid that since it was kind of creepy to see no one standing beside her when the man was close enough to figure out her shirt size.

Mordechai: Mordechai sensed the unease in the female at his side, the squirming, fidgeting, scratching… Dipping his head for a closer look, he let his eyes make an obvious tour of her body, tracing the curves from top to bottom, then rising slowly back up to her face where they paused, locked on to the dissimilar orbs, so similar to his own. The woman was a tiny thing there were curves where they belonged, but nothing to write home about, but those eyes… Reaching over in front of her, one long finger tapped the bar with the smooth thud of an Estwing driving a spike, “Yo, Ryker. Nother ‘quila for Barbie” Knowing Ryker would be there fast, he lowered his gaze once more to diminutive paladin. Locking eyes with her as Ryker’s shadow appeared in the periphery the killer let a smile curve his lips “C-42 Ryk” Standing straight as he finished his drink and slid the glass to the well he offered a hand as the strains of the jukebox swelled, Moonshine Bandits’”Pass the Ammo” filling the Saloon “Care to dance?”

Embrie: She turned her head and tipped it back to look up, and up, and up some more. Finally she had to take another step back to full see the face of the man who’d just bought her a drink and called her Barbie. A compliment and an insult in the same breath. She was nothing like those California bimbo’s that came to NOLA for margaritas and flashed their tits for beads. What ever, booze was booze and free was better. She didn’t correct him on her name either. She wasn’t exactly one to give information freely.

She picked up the shot that was placed before her and tossed it back. “Thank you.” She said in a strong, clear voice that carried a creole twang. Then he was offering her a dance. Part of her wanted to say no. But the man had just bought her a drink, and she was always up for a good fais do do. She gave a slight shrug, looking up into his odd eyes, so alike, yet so different than her own, and put one small hand in his. “Why not?” She asked, smiling into his eyes, one so dark she didn’t think he actually had an eye, and the other so vibrantly blue it put her own to shame.

Mordechai: The grace he moved with belied his bulk, as large as he was, his was the almost unnatural flowing grace of a stalking leopard. Moving with the music was easy, the rhythm flowed through his synapses, his body naturally twisting and turning. Although he did not pull the woman close, he kept a firm but gentle hold on one hand at all times. A smile that quirked his full lips let loose a glimpse of sharpened canine, but never seemed to make it to eyes, that studied her every move. As the music wound down, he let a snap of his wrist twirl the woman against him, momentarily pinning her against the rock hard planes of his chest, “You have a delightful accent, bayou?” not waiting for a reply, he continued his line of inquiry, “What brings you so far north, Paladin?” The final word was slightly drawn out, rolling freely on the wave of a growl as his eyes bored into hers.

Embrie: She was surprised a man as large as he was could move so well. While she didn’t have the unnatural grace of being undead as he did, she wasn’t a bad dancer. She moved with the grace and the rhythm of the cajun people she’d grown up with. Her hips moved with the unheard beat of the Haitian people, even as she kept time with the dance and the way he lead. She chuckled softly as they danced, clearly enjoying herself, even if he was trying his best (and succeeding) to look menacing and scary as hell. She spun against him, her hand coming to rest on pure muscle covered in silk. She was not surprised to find he was as hard as he looked. His question caught her off guard, but before she could answer, he was asking another question. Paladin. There it was, for the second time in less than a month.

“You know,” She drawled out as she stood pressed against him, on her toes without realizing it to make herself taller. “That is the second time in less than a month someone has called me a Paladin. I feel like I’ve stepped in to a real life Dungeons and Dragons game.” She paused a moment, looking thoughtful. “Bayou.” She confirmed, “But quite a bit of time in NOLA.”

Mordechai: As the next song began, the killer spun her out to arms length again, repeating his second question, “What brings you so far north, Paladin? You should be familiar with term” Slowly working them across the floor, he moved them towards the corner of the dance floor, away from the other sweating ‘cowpokes’ that whought lubricating their joints with alcohol, would enhance their chances at the elusive Juilliard entrance trials. Lowering his head slightly Mordechai inhaled, drawing the peculiar mixture of pheromones that was uniquely hers deep with in his olfactory sensors, cataloging and storing it. He would forever know if she was involved in the death of one of his.


Embrie: She moved with him, knowing he was moving her into a corner, but since she honestly had no idea what he was talking about, she wasn’t scared. She had nothing to be scared of. She couldn’t hold back the shiver when he bent over her, especially since she wasn’t sure what he was doing. In that moment she decided she could use another shot and another whiskey, but she was caught by his large hand around hers and the other around her waist. She had an answer to his question, but he was probably going to laugh. Then again, she was dancing with a real life vampire, so maybe he wouldn’t.

“Look, I don’t know what a paladin is. A few weeks ago, I’m sitting in my shitty *** apartment when some robed freaks break in. They say I’m a paladin and start burning incense and chanting. It wasn’t like no voo-doo I ever seen before. And it hurt like hell. Then they tell me to go north and they give me coordinates. Says I’ll learn more in this town. So here I am trying to figure out what the **** happened to me.”

Mordechai: “If what you say is true, It would seem that someone somewhere, wants you eradicated, and they chose me to do it” The dark aura that was never far away seemed to thicken as his voice lowered, “If you are lying to me, It is you, choosing to end your own life, with my hands.” Another step in the dance drew them over closer to the gray door leading to the soundproofed room where Prudence held her own version of the UFC. :Do you not feel the itch, the burn of those sigils?” Stepping closer, crowding her now, “Do not the runes burn with my proximity?”

Embrie: Now she was scared, her heartbeat accelerating. This guy was well and truly insane and now he was talking about killing her? How had a dance and a drink turned into an imminent threat to her life? She saw the door and her mind drew the conclusion for her. She made a small sound and tried to tug her hand free of his, turning her slight form in the opposite direction of the door. Her usual smirk was gone and her voice was low, carrying a note of fear when she spoke again.

“I’m not lying.” She muttered as she tried to escape, “I thought it was the tequila.” She looked at the tattoo’s on her arms. She’d had the originals covered with sleeves, but still, if someone knew what they were looking for, they would see the designs that she didn’t understand and didn’t know how she’d acquired. “Look, I ain’t here for no trouble. Just a few drinks.” She stated, trying to plead her case again, her accent thickening with her fear.

Mordechai: A second inhale, recorded the change… fear. The stench of fear rolled off her in waves. Not the fear of a paladin that realized they maybe should have tried their luck elsewhere, but the pure unadulterated stench of the truly innocent, awaiting their judgement. “I will offer you the guarantee of one hour of extended life, a shot of tequila, and a whiskey. If you step through that door to converse with me. I can read your memories, your strengths, your weaknesses. If i believe you, I can offer you an explanation. If you do not wish to converse, I cannot promise you even five lowly minutes.”

The city was rife now with paladins, sorcerers, and blood thieves, streaming into the city from all over the world. The word was out, and everyone thought themselves the reincarnation of Van Helsing. Yet they continued to feed off the week, the young, the untrained, they feared meeting someone that had fully embraced the change.

Embrie: “Only an hour?” She managed to snark, her sarcastic side bypassing her brain to mouth filter and blurting out the first thing that came to mind. Well, an hour was better than five minutes and at least now he was asking. Sort of. She would have run a hand over her face if she had a free one to do so. While one was caught in his grip, the other hand curled into the lapel of his jacket, as if it were the only way to keep up right.

She glanced at the door, then back to the predator who now held her captive. She calculated the odds of reaching any one of the many knives stashed upon her person and realized she’d be dead before her next breath if she tried it. Her nose wrinkled and she sighed softly, acquiescing to his request. “Alright, through the door to talk.” She said, her voice sounding stronger.

Mordechai: He stepped forward ushering the woman to, and through the dood, his key releasing the lock that snickt shut as it swung shut. “You say you know not the word ‘Paladin’ You say you came here because some strange unknown persons told you do. They spoke, and you crossed a continent. You will have to excuse my scepticism” Settling her at the side table, where lorelai would appear in a few hours, he walked to a sideboard, and pulled out a bottle of 1800. Setting the bottle before her, Mordechai raised an eyebrow, “I truly hope there is more to your story…. You do wish to leave don't you?” Walking to the door he turned and leaned assuming the pose of alert readiness as he awaited the story. He could not release an unknown terror into the streets

Embrie: She stared at the bottle, and then at him, watching where he stood against the door. “You mean I get to leave?” She sounded incredulous, especially since he’d only promised an hour of life. Since there was no glass, she unscrewed the cap on the tequila and took a long drink, then sighed softly. She rubbed a hand over her face, then looked at him. “Seems silly, I agree. But ya right in that there is more to it than just some voo-doo stuff and me hopin’ on a plane.”

She took another swallow of the bottle and stared at a wall, then leaned forward and pulled a folded paper from her pocket, opening it carefully and sliding it over. It was a simple thing. A contract, promising then 6 year old Embrie Trystan Colburn to the order of St. James when she reached the age of 25, in exchange for a half kilo of pure heroin delivered on the first of the month.

“I reckon they’s a bit late.” She said, her accent thickening with stress and booze. “I turned 25 last year. They came for me a couple months ago. Gave me this. Said I belonged to em and then did their voo-doo ****. An’ now, here I am, with every intention of returning to NOLA after I figure out what the **** is goin’ on an’ why these goons thinkin’ I belong to them. I’m Catholic, not a cultist. Though some’d say they ain’t no different.” She wasn’t really Catholic, not any more, but she’d rather be Catholic than whatever this was.

Mordechai: A slow chuckle slipped from his lips, gradually raising to a full on laugh. “The Order of Saint James” gasped out finally. Straightening, his face slid back to its normal stoic expression. ‘’I think they left you an abandoned cathedral over on the east side. We pretty much eradicated the scum.” The killers lips peeled back revealing the needle sharp elongated canines that he bore daily behind closed lips. “You know what I am? What I really am?” He hissed through the revealed fangs. ‘’The Order...the Order feels that their god has quested them to rid the earth of people like me. It appears you were recruited to the cause”, Standing to his full height, the killer stepped forward spreading his feet to shoulder width and slowly raising his hands fingers spread. “Do you wish to join your brethren?”

Embrie: She’d be lying if she said he laugh wasn’t pleasing. “The **** am I supposed to do with a cathedral?” She asked, feeling confused. She could figure out easily what he meant by eradicated. And as he approached she leaned back in her chair as he got closer and bared his teeth. He reminded her a bit of a feral dog in this moment, stalking closer. Her eyes widened as she stared up at him.

“Ya a vampire.” She was pleased at how steady her voice was. “I ain’t stupid.” She took a drink of tequila because that was a truly stupid thing to say to a man who was threatening to kill her. And would probably follow through with it. “I don’t believe in their god, or the Catholic god. An’ I ain’t got no brothers. So whatever this order is, or was, I ain’t got no interest. Who the **** buys a little girl for drugs anyway?”

Mordechai: “Dead people” The words slipped out in a growl. “Your story sounds good, practiced, smoooth” The killer drew out the last word as he stalked the room, head swiveling, eyes never leaving her. “No interest? Really now…” Moving closer he slipped a knife from within his duster, a snap of his wrist planted the blade an inch deep in the scarred table, right against the bottle. “There you go little girl. Those runes give you power. Pull it out.” Circling, the image of a hunting cat even sharper now, his fangs slipped from his lips. “Feel the Itch? The Burn…? Don't you want to pull that knife on me?” his visage darkened as he moved closer yet, “Pull it, use it, I am right here.”One finger tapped the slab of muscle over his heart, “Don't you want to end the burn, Paladin? Kill me, Paladin?” His mouth slowly opened, “Kill me, or feed me, which will it be, PALADIN?


Embrie: She stared at the knife in the table, watching it quiver until it came to a halt. Reaching out, she grabbed the bottle and took a drink, then stood up for leverage to pull the knife out. Rather than do anything with it, she lay it on the scarred surface. She had her own knives to attack with, if she wanted to. He was certainly making her nervous but she wasn’t going to pick a fight she couldn’t win. It wasn’t her way. Even if he was antagonizing her.

“I kinda wanna throw a chair at ya.” She admitted, eyes half closed. Tequila was a good thing. She felt warm, and somewhat relaxed, a small smirk curving the right side of her mouth. She tracked him though, every move he made, even if she couldn’t see him. That was just the street rat in her. She always looked out for danger, and this unknown man was certainly danger. “I don’t start fights I know I can’t win. An’ my name is Embrie, not ‘paladin’. I ain’t some character out of a fantasy book.”

He was certainly right that her arms itched and there was a slight burning sensation, but she wasn’t exactly certain that killing him would make it stop. And it wasn’t like she couldn’t ignore it. She was real good at ignoring a lot of things.

Mordechai: “So, you have the tequila, I have you. Shall we toast?” Curiouser and curiouser, had he followed Alice down the hole? One pill made him bigger, so far nothing, had made him small. And his mother? He had no memories at all. Once simple thought had stuck the old song in his mind, and now the modified words whirled in his subconscious. It was obvious she was a paladin. It was obvious the runes were real. The calmness though, so uncharacteristic. The vegheads, they would have attacked on sight, never even ordered the first drink, no planning just brute force attack. The others that were left, were laughable, their order as splintered as the last, or worse. “Wrist, neck or thigh? I am partial to the thigh, femoral blood is sooo oxygen rich” Drink with me?

Embrie: “Now why would you wanna go an’ do that when I ain’t done a thing but drink? I haven’t caused a fuss. I haven’t harmed your person.” He seemed intent on killing her or drinking from her and she was equally as intent that neither of those things would happen. If he got much closer, she’d test out her reflexes, either with his knife on the table or one that was close at hand on her person. She lifted her gaze to his, a single brow arching towards her hair line as she waited for his answer.

Mordechai: Staring into her eyes his face froze, not a single muscle moved, his whole body frozen like a massive stone statue. Casting out from his mind, he spoke within hers “Because, Embrie” Her name was enunciated perfectly, with just a touch of cajun twang, Reminiscent of her own.”Because I can see into your mind, Speak into your mind. Fill your mind with terror. Or pleasure.” Still nothing moved, not his lips, not his eyes, no breath passed from his lungs, no heartbeat, as he continued. “Your scent is buried in my mind, if you harm those that are in my care, I will know by your scent. With your taste, I will know you anywhere I will be able to speak to you anywhere. Without a taste , we will see whether you prefer my knife, or the one hidden nearby your hand. We will see if you can perform the draw you are contemplating. With a burst of celerity, he literally disappeared from her sight, reappearing instantaneously behind her. Her own knife held to her throat. Soft lips caressed her silken ear as he whispered softly “We will see if you are faster than me. Just a sip”

Embrie: She watched him, still lazy appearing and calm. At least until she heard his voice in her head and flinched. She couldn’t help herself. Voices in one's head tended to mean one was crazy. Her gaze narrowed on him, listening, watching, until he wasn’t there to watch any more. She felt the cool kiss of the blade and the heavy presence of him behind her. A cold sense of calm came over her, her hand shooting out to grab the knife on the table. She was nowhere near as fast as him, and yet she eeled her arm behind her, the knife pressed against the inside of one muscled thigh. It was the first indication of violence she’d shown.

“I may not be as fast as you…” She breathed, feeling her heart in her throat. “But I ain’t goin’ down without a fight.”

Mordechai: “So there is a spark in there…. But there's one thing, they should have taught you before they sent you here.” His free hand slammed down into hers, driving the knife into his thigh until the bolter kissed into the leather. The sudden flush of blood erupting from the artery coated both their hands, stepping back he slowly pulled the knife out, the double edge of the Fairbairne- sykes he had tossed to her was made for this, a rapid thrust spearing deep, one of the best fighting designs ever made. But as the knife came out, the whisper of steel on leather was covered by wet slurping, and the bleeding stopped, no geyser of arterial spray “Not all vampires bleed out, Wrist, neck or thigh. I only ask for a taste. If you wish to live free, I must know that are mine, are safe.”


Embrie: “Jesus christ! What the **** is wrong with you!” His blood coated her hands and as soon as she was free of his grip, she whipped out of the chair. She registered his blood on her hand, the knife in his. She heard the sucking noise it made, almost felt the sound of steel on bone. “****, **** **** ****” She hissed, her knees hitting the floor as she tried to cover the wound. She was so panicked that his words didn’t register at first. Nor did the lack of blood.

“Um… pressure. We have to put pressure on it.” She pressed down on the nonexistent wound. “We need something to tie it off…” The pleasure haze of tequila had evaporated, which was good because that allowed everything else to finally register in her panicked mind. She lifted her hand and sat back on her heels, staring at his thigh. There was a hole in his pants, but the skin beneath was unblemished. She blinked owlishly and then tipped her head back to stare up at him. “Who are ‘they’?” It was an honest question, she still remained ever clueless about paladins and what they did or wanted. “All I wanted was a drink…” She said, almost to herself.

Mordechai: “There is a full bottle on the table, how much do you require? It seems quite fair, a bottle, for a sip.” He shook his head slowly, “There is no need for pressure, when there is no wound” Stepping back to the door once more, he meticulously cleaned the blade before reinserting it into the custom kydex sheath. “They…. Are the Order. Of. St. James. Paladins. Killers more indiscriminate than any vampire” Finally his eyes returned to her. “I do not wish to hurt you, you would feel nothing. Or pleasure beyond belief, if that was your wish. Neck. Wrist. Or thigh?”

Embrie: A hand smoothed over her straight, dark hair as she rocked onto her feet. “I don’t understand why ya want ta do that.” Her accent was a little thicker thanks to the stress of the situation. She sighed softly and moved towards the table. “I ain’t done nothin’ and just cause the other paladins you know seem to be giant assholes don’t mean I am. Hell I ain’t even know what a paladin is. All I came here for was a drink, not to kill any one. I ain’t never killed no one and I ain’t intendin’ to.”

She stared at the bottle, then at him. “What does takin’ my blood do fer ya? Why’s it so important?” She tipped her head to the side hoping he would answer her honestly, though she kept her distance, one so she could look into his eyes, the other because he was scaring the crap out of her. “I ain’t part of this order. Bein’ sold ain’t like makin’ a choice of free will.”

Mordechai: “Some would say it does nothing. They would be wrong.” Once more slowly circling the room his eyes never leaving hers. “The taste imparts to me an essence of you, I would know the scent of a single pinprick of your blood. Know whether you partook in the killing of mine own. I would know you in a crowd, And it need not all be bad. You might find, I am not the worst ally you could have, id your story is true.”

Embrie: “If.” She pointed out that he kept saying it. Clearly he didn’t believe her, but she had no reason to lie to him. “I ain’t killin’ no one.” She watched him, turning her whole body to track him around the room. She knew he was faster than she was, but that didn’t mean she wanted him at her back again. “I ain’t sure what I can do to prove I’m tellin’ ya the truth.” She tucked her hair behind her ear. “Back in NOLA dey say a vampire can see memories in da’ blood. True or no?”

Mordechai: A single word slipped out, “Yes”

Embrie: “So if ya take my blood, ya can see I’m tellin’ da truth.” A statement more than a question, one brow lifting as she waited for his answer.

Mordechai: “It would. With the truth known, it would also free me to perhaps answer some of your queries that I cannot answer for you with out implicit trust?


Embrie: “Dey also say I won’t remember. But if ya do this, I wanna remember. Is that possible?”

Mordechai: I cannot guarantee you will remember my bite, but I will do nothing to alter your state of consciousness, other than the slightest of pleasure to remove the pain of the bite. This I can do for you, for if you are lying, the pain you feel will erase all that you have ever known and then you will feel no more forever.

Embrie: She chewed on her lower lip, then sighed. It seemed to be the only way to prove to him she wasn’t lying. And frankly, maybe he could be a good ally if he discovered she was telling the truth. Neck, wrist or thigh… well two of those places were far to intimate for her liking and made her uncomfortable to think about. “The wrist then.” She said, sounding resigned. She settled in the chair and lay her arm on the table, trying to stay relaxed, though her hand trembled from nervousness.

Mordechai: Stepping closer, he took the proffered arm as he stared into her eyes. The killer let her maintain possession of the small knife that she drew courage from as his fangs scraped across the surface of her veins. He did not need to take blood to see recent memories, nor in most cases to see deeper into the past. This was a show of faith on her part, that lent credence to her story. He wasn't even truly thirsty, control would be easy, he would not bleed her. Gently touching her mind he lent the feeling of a hnd gently sliding up her thigh as an arm encircled her in safety as the neels like points slipped through her skin with silken ease. Drawing hard in two strong pulls, he stopped at the slightest sense of dizziness, enough to let her know he had truly fed from her, she had truly lost blood. As his fangs withdrew from the tender skin, he released her mind simultaneously with the last swirl of his tongue to seal and cleanse the wound.

Embrie: She could feel him inside her mind, and she relaxed, letting him see that things were as she said. She’d been sitting in her apartment when the door was kicked in and the sorcerer's enchanted her runes and tattoos. There was a lot of screaming in pain and when she came out of it, she was fighting mad, tackling one man and beating him until the others pulled her off.
Then they’d told her to go North if she wanted to learn more and since she was still pissed off, she’d done just that. Headed North to learn the truth and perhaps beat the **** out of a few more people. She blinked when he pulled away, feeling slightly dizzy and slightly confused. “Did you do it?”

Mordechai: “It is done” She had told the truth. Slowly the tip of his tongue traced his lower lip, drawing in the last droplet of blood from the corner of his lip. A smile quirked his lips on one side, no more than a half smile. The scent cinnamon floated about her, but the taste… mmmm the taste. Louisiana was not far at all, not at all from the dirt strap Alabamian po- dunk farming commune Mordechai had been birthed on, and the taste of blackened catfish had lingered on long after the blonde had killed him. A taste just now refreshed by the blood of this paladin.

Embrie: She blew out a slow breath and looked at her wrist. There was no marks or any sign of what he’d done. Just a blank spot in her memory and a slight ache in the muscles of her wrist. She gazed at him, then grabbed the tequila and took a long drink from the bottle. She tucked her hair behind her ear, not sure what to say now that it was done. But on the bright side, he wasn’t trying to kill her any more. So that was nice.

Mordechai: Slowly the killer drew closer before sliding on to the table with one leg cocked. “I can not explain it all at one time, you do not have the time, nor I the patience. Nor am I an expert. I learned what I needed to kill them. Plain and simple.humans kill what they fear. For every fangmanger out there, there are 20 parents afraid for their children. The sorcerer's fed right into the blame and power, by creating paladins, like you. Warriors to blindly follow and slay the evil vampires, that has coexisted with humans for centuries. Those rumes give you power, but no where near the power I received from your blood. You taste of spices.” once more his tongue flicked at the corner of his lips.

Embrie: “I didn’t realize blood had a flavor beyond slightly salty and coppery.” She listened to every word intently, not wanting to forget anything he said. “I’ve never blindly followed anything and I don’t intend to start now.” She looked at her small hands, and the tattoo’s that covered her arms. The ones given by force and the ones given by choice. She turned the bottle around in her hands. “These paladin’s sound like real assholes, to be honest. I know about how humans don’t like anything different.” And she did, given that she was a mixed race Cajun girl from the bayou. “And I’m sure you’ve heard plenty of times people say “I’m not like that” and I’m not. I ain’t got any right to fear what’s different when I’ve been on the receiving end of that ********.”

Mordechai: His thoughts were wrapped around her mind as she spoke studying every nuance, and every thought pattern as fresh memories were created realtime, right in front of him. He saw the truth in her words, and the refreshed memories of the taunting she had received as a child in Louisiana. His nodded a slow acknowledgement. The itch you feel, the burn in your skin, it is a warning and an incitement. If you stay here, it will never go away. It is the price a paladin pays for the speed, agility, and long life…. To become a vampire slayer. The order of St James was the worst by far, they hunted my mate….
Embrie: “Mate? Like a wife?” She scowled at his comments. “This Order sounds like ****. You said they were dead? Seems to me that the world is better off. And I’m sorry they came after you.” She took a long pull from the bottle. “And your mate. I can ignore the itch, it’s a small annoyance. I still want to throw a chair at you, but like you said, I think it’s because of the runes. I mean, aside from the trying to kill me thing, you seem like a pretty decent guy. And I can understand why you felt the way you did.”

Mordechai: A low chuckled, started deep in his chest, “Trying. To. Kill. You.” Each word came out on a breath gasped between laughs, before stopping abruptly. “That is humor” He cocked an eyebrow at the woman, “Laughter is the required response, is it not?”

Embrie: “Well, I suppose if you wanted me dead, I would be. But no, I wasn’t joking.” She tucked her hair behind her ear. “So, are you going to tell me your name or something I can call you?”

Mordechai: The killer looked down at her, considering her request as he pondered on the last time he had heard his name, twenty yrs ago. A slight shake of his head cleared the thoughts into the past where they belonged. For twenty yrs, he had been his callsign. “I answer to the name Mordechai.” Hs eyes followed the distinctly feminine action of tucking loose hair. “Something to remember as you walk these streets in the dark, not all have as pleasant a demeanor as I.”

Embrie: “Pleasant? Is that what they call it these days?” Now she was teasing him, a slight smile curved her mouth, lifting the right side. “I’m Embrie.” She offered a hand to shake, as if the previous events hadn’t even happened. Water under the bridge to the small Cajun woman.

Mordechai: For a moment, he just looked, considering the proffered hand. How he missed the time of yesterday, when he spent months at a time in deep cover, the quiet of windless night the company that kept him awake and alive. In the city, it seemed constant interaction was always needed to appease the gods of civilization. Reaching forward he grasped the offered hand for a single shake. A gaelic shrug accompanied the words as he observed, “You are alive, is that not pleasant?”

Embrie: She shook his hand, her own handshake was firm, but not like she was trying to prove something. “That is pleasant enough I suppose. Though time will tell. And I will certainly take your words to heart, about others I mean.” She spun the bottle in her hands, but didn’t drink. “I thought NOLA was crazy, but I think this place is even crazier.”

Mordechai: “The dead walk the streets… vampires are voting Rodney King for mayor... humans are dying …. I let you live…. This place is truly crazy, but that recognition will not get you from this room. It will only get you dead at someone else’s hands. You are tainted by those runes. Decisions will need to be made. Steps taken” Turning to the door, once more his key slipped the lock as he opened the door. “Leave the bottle, life is not free once you cross that threshold.”

Embrie: She listened to him, then stood up, leaving the bottle where it stood on the table. She made a mental note to grab her jacket as soon as she was back out in the bar and put it on to cover her tattoo’s. She was also wondering if he was truly going to kill her now that an hour had passed. She thought they had reached some sort of accord, but maybe she was wrong. “I am not sure what you mean by that.” Was all she said.

Mordechai: “You have to pay for your drinks” In almost slow motion the cerulean eye winked.

Embrie: She blinked at him, not because she had to pay for her drinks, but because he winked and was teasing her. “I think I can manage that.”

Mordechai: Walking to his accustomed end of the bar the killer rapped a knuckle on the scarred top “Yo, Ryker,” When the big biker behind the bar turned his head, Mordechai mimed a drink, then tapped the bar beside him, “and set up an 1800 shortie, for the short one” casually he pointed to the newest paladin in HRC. Ducking his head to look her in the eye, he continued, his voice a low growl, not carrying out to anyone else. “If you plan to stay here, you will need something better than that chinese **** you thought would protect you.” His hand flickered, not really seeming to move, before he pointed at her breast. “Soft, but it should hold the card in place, there is an address on it, My shop in River Rock, midKnight Armaments… stop in and ask for me.

Embrie: She tugged her coat on to cover her tattoo’s, feeling the cardboard against her skin. She removed the card, looked it over, then securely tucked it into her pocket where she wouldn’t lose it. “I will do that. Thank you.” She said quietly, then accepted her shot glass from the man called Ryker and lifted it in Mordechai’s direction as a toast. “Here’s to long life. May we all be blessed to have one.”

Mordechai: The killer nodded as he raised his glass, the black swirls on it disguising the fact that the glass was empty, “You just added a few days to yours, may the truth, set you free.” Sipping at the rim he lowered the glass, long fingers wrapped around it. When you stop for a real weapon, I will lock down the range, and try to provide you with more knowledge. There are a few things I have learned about those fu- Paladins, that may help you do survive in the course you have been cast upon.

Embrie: She tossed her shot back and nodded, setting the glass gently on the counter. “Thank you.” She said again, looking up into his enigmatic eyes. He was the first person she’d ever met with two different colored eyes. It was nice to know she wasn’t the only freak out there. “I will keep that in mind. Would you like me to call ahead? I don’t want to be an inconvenience to your business.”

Mordechai: “ I will set aside something nice for you, Victoria, or any of the rest of the staff will be able to help you with that. Just show them the card… The e-mail on the card, message it a few hrs early, when you wish to meet. Afternoons, are good times for the range to be free. An I enjoy working on my tan.”

Embrie: She chuckled softly and asked for a water, then looked at him. “Victoria, and email a couple hours before. I can do that.” She sipped her water and leaned against the bar for a moment. “I suppose I should head out. It has certainly been… enlightening.” She tugged a few crumpled bills from her pocket, smoothing them out onto the bar to pay her tab.

Mordechai: Leaning back against the wall, he watched as a small wad of crumpled bills appeared from her pocket. It seemed to be a common fate of those new to the city. To him, he could see no reason that those that were destitute seemed to flock to Harper Rock, but the derelict homes and abandoned warehouse were full of those that could not afford better, their occupancy constantly increasing. She was new to the city, her story and her accent were proof of that. The killer considered the roll he normally carried, versus the small pile of crumpled bills that had been in the woman’s hand, before moving to her side once more, crowding slightly. A guick glance at her and his eyes were back on the mirror as he spoke. “You have an adequate domicile?”

Embrie: He was crowding her again and she had a moment to wonder if it was some kind of test to see if she would back down. But she didn’t, simply giving a slight frown at his question. Adequate domicile? Who spoke like that these days? She gave a slight shake of her head as if she was brushing off the question. “I’ve got a roof over my head, yeah.” A roof and four crumbling walls, but it was still better than what she’d grown up in. The abandoned apartment would serve her well for her time in the city. She wasn’t planning on staying for long.

Mordechai: Damned allurists. His life had been so much easier before the flock of allurists had descended on him. Clouding his thought with emotions, eschewing logic and functionality. Even now, with none nearby, he felt a touch of emotion welling up inside of him. “It is getting late, and you have had more than a few. To repeat a cliched phrase, ‘death stalks the night’. I can obtain you quarters that are safe and near, if you trust me.”

Embrie: Her lips curved in a slight frown of confusion. Was he seriously offering her accomodations for the evening? Well, she’d never know if she didn’t accept his offer, and frankly some place with a working shower sounded very appealing. “Okay, sure.”

Mordechai: The killer gave a single nod of acknowledgement, then subtly slipped out of her personal space, setting his glass on the bar, and nodding at Ryker’s raised eyebrow, it would take another glass to fully repair his thigh. “My point earlier, is that killing vampires is not as easy as Hollywould makes it seem” His voice was low, rumbling at a pitch for her ears only. Rubbing a spot on his chest, he continued “Although stakes to give me indigestion. When you are ready, I will take you.”

Embrie: Was that a joke? She was pretty sure it was. “I don’t watch many movies, but I know Hollywood is full of ********.” She half smiled, though it wasn’t directed at any one. “I’m ready when you are. I try not to get completely shitfaced in public. It’s not safe. Especially not around here.”

Mordechai: There was a reason the killer had claimed this far end of the polished bar, deep in the shadows far from light. Reaching out he laid a hand upon her wrist, dipping his head in a nod as the shadows seemed to curl and wrap around them. As the darkness closed, their outlines blurred and disappeared. Stepping back he held a hand out before her in a sweeping gesture, “This domicile is at your disposal, for tonight at least, it is safe.

Embrie: She felt her stomach lurch, certain that it had been left behind at the bar. Odd eyes blinked and it truly was a struggle to keep those very expensive drinks down. When her world righted itself and her stomach had rejoined her body, she took a look around the place. She looked around curiously, a brow lifting over her green eye. Purple and black, seemed an odd color choice for someone like him.

She poked through doors, finding the bedroom, the bathroom with a shower and blessed hot water. She came back out to the living room area, she canted her head slightly and stared up at him. “I ain’t strippin’ for you.” She said, crossing her arms and hoping that wasn’t a condition of staying here. The light up stripper pole in the bedroom made her wonder though.

Mordechai: The killer scowled, “Stay off the pole. There are all the amenities you should need” Turning, it was 2 long steps to the entrance, Turning his head to look over his shoulder he inhaled softly. “There is hot water and a shower in there. You will survive on your own?”

Embrie: She blew out a breath and relaxed, even if he was snarling again. She gave a nod. “I will. And I’ll lock up when I leave. Thank you, Mordechai.” She managed a small smile, feeling the day and evening catching up to her all at once.

Mordechai: The killer nodded once, then stepped through the door drawing it shut with an almost silent *snickt*.