A Risky Encounter

[Dreyfus]

♅ 20th of Frost, Year 121, A.o.S ♅
Company: Poor thief| Thoughts: Dont run, that only makes it worse| Mood: Hungry, Cautious

♅ What should have been an easy hunt, had unfortunately turned into a chase for one's own life. It wasn't that Dante had to chase the man, as it only seemed to whet his appetite more, but the fact that he wasn't as sharp as he wanted to be yet. The amount of caution that is required to hunt without causing garnering any attention to himself was what he was trying to perfect. In that regard, he was giving chase to some poor sap who tried to rob him, following the thief down into the underbelly of the city.

Tapping into his Vitalis rune, he was able to keep track of the man by his scent, using Veracity to acquire it. Running was not his strong suit either, he never really had to do much running back in Zaichaer, as if he needed to give chase, he could simply Pull the person to him with Kinetics. Knowing this Dante stuck to what he knew best, and formed the flux around his feet, using push to launch himself the needed distance in order to keep up with the man, and pull to aid in his landings and turns.

It was becoming a game of cat and mouse, one moment the thief thought he had easily escaped only to be surprised by Dante when he appeared from seemingly out of nowhere. For Dante it was merely amusing, seeing the fear of the other as he would flee at the sight of the Vampyre. The good thing for him was that with them being so far from anyone to help him, he could play with his food all night if it so pleased him, however, his hunger was getting the better of him and he knew now was not the time to play about his feeding.

With a sudden pull in the flux, the back of the thief's head was in the palm of Ambrose's hand and with a push, he slammed the man's head into the filth of ground. He held it there for a moment, to ensure there would be no struggle with what came next. Wiping the man's neck of blood and grime, Dante leaned into it, taking a whiff of the man's skin as he whispered in his ear. "Now that this game is over, I will put an end to your torment."

Forcing the man's neck to the side, Dante gorged on his blood. ♅

---

"Common Speech"
"Silandris Speech"
"Self-Thoughts"

[Lyra]

It was a curious sight to behold as one man devoured another, but not in a fun way. She had not been seeking it but had stumbled upon the scene as it unfolded at its climax. One man chasing another, and then a sudden end as one ended on the ground in the dirt while the other crouched on top like a cat having caught its prey. She would have simply noted it as just another example of the dangers of the underbelly of Kalzasi, were it not for what happened next.

Like a feral beast, he was as he bit into the neck of the man on the ground. The smell of blood was faint from the distance, but Lyra could see it beginning to spill dark on the ground beneath the men. It was sloppy, bestial, and untamed, and it made Lyra want to understand. Was he a madman, or a creature that escaped the Warrens? Was he corrupted by something? Or perhaps he had taken too much of his favorite drug and had lost the ability to distinguish food from people. Whatever it was Lyra didn't move away as the man fed, nor did she hide where she stood with her hip leaned against a crate and arms folded behind her back.

Pushing back a curly lock of silver hair behind one slightly pointed ear, Lyra studied the man intently until he finally noticed her. When he did she smiled, showing teeth, "Do you eat everything? Or can I have the body?" she pointed at the man who still took shallow breaths, "I'd rather you didn't kill him yet. Corpses are worth less than half alive ones."

Her tone was conversational, unhurried, and unconcerned with either the man or his actions. Though her body was new, Lyra felt comfortable and in sync with it as its slow beating heart pumped black blood filled with her essence to every digit. Besides, Naila was near, and should she need it she could call for aid. Risks had to be taken after all. That was how one progressed.

[Dreyfus]

♅ 20th of Frost, Year 121, A.o.S ♅
Company: Poor thief| Thoughts: Dont run, that only makes it worse| Mood: Hungry, Cautious

♅ "Well Fuck!" he turned to see the woman lurking in the shadows as he finished gorging himself on the blood of the thief, as the most recent memory of the thief flashed into his mind. He saw broken visions of a theft of some kind, and the hiding place of the stash. Once his memory vision ended, he turned his vision onto the woman. Her inquiry as to what he would do with the man only caused the hairs on his neck to stand up.

He couldn't tell if she was being serious or joking about the matter, but in any case, Dante allowed the body to flop on the filthy ground. Looking down he could faintly he the breathing of the man, and took a few steps forward. "That's a rather tricky thing for me, as given what I've done to him, I must kill him so that my secret stays just that, a secret. Sadly you too fall in that category, no witnesses and all that."

For a moment he allowed that to sink in, taking another step toward her. He wasn't sure of her motives, but now that he was close enough he could see her more, drinking in the details of her form. She was definitely elven, given the sharp points of her ears and silver-white hair. The look in her eyes was that of someone curious and intrigued by what she saw. Given that he had been living in Kalzasi for a while, and had had a few incidents within the Midden since arriving, he was cautious as she could have allies nearby.

That being said, he went back to what she said earlier, about wanting the body he had drained of most of the man's blood. Going back to where his barely breathing body lay, Dante hoisted the man up out of the muck and dragged him over to her. Tossing him over Dante raised his hands up and flashed her a charming smile. "Now that I think about it, I have no need of him, If you can assure me he will not divulge what I've done to him."

Looking back into her eyes he could tell she wouldn't speak on it, she seemed rather intrigued by what he had done, so much so he could hazard a guess that she wouldn't give him away. ♅

---

"Common Speech"
"Silandris Speech"
"Self-Thoughts"

[Lyra]

So he wouldn't attack her immediately. That was good. A part of her relaxed at that realization.

"I give you my word that he will speak of this to no one." Lyra said, still smiling as the man was dragged before her. When Ambrose smiled it likely was intended to be charming, but the blood that still dripped from his chin and down his neck made it more sinister than comforting. Lyra took the time to study him up close. A thick chest, broad shoulders, and starkly masculine features cut a fine figure were it not for the brutality with which he conducted himself. He seemed... human. No different than any other, or so Lyra would have thought. Clearly, though that was not the case.

Lyra rolled the dying man over on his back. The thief had gone ashen with bloodloss, and his eyes stared blankly upwards. Kneeling down Lyra brushed a hand over the man's face, touching fingers to the still dripping wound on his neck before turning his head by his chin to look at her.

"You are dying." She said softer, leaning closer so the thief could hear, "It is inevitable. It will be slow, and it will be painful. I can save you though, for a price." she gently stroked the man's cheek as she continued, "Swear an oath to me, swear to serve me, and I will free you from pain and give you a new life."

The man didn't speak, but his eyes drifted to stare unfocused in Lyra's direction. Leaning closer still, Lyra clutched the man's head in two hands, forcing his eyes to meet her own.

"Make the oath. Swear to serve me, to do my bidding without fail and without question." Thin lines of black smoke flowed out from her lips as Lyra spoke, forming small symbols in the air before they swirled and began to flow into the man's nostrils and open mouth, "You will be my tool. You will serve with absolute devotion and loyalty. Will you bind yourself mind and soul to my cause. Blink once, and let our pact be sealed."

There was a long pause as more of the smoke trailed out and into the man, but then he blinked once, slowly and painfully before his eyes unfocused completely. With a grin, Lyra leaned back and open the satchel on her hips, and began to pull out supplies. A jar of greyish liquid, a vial of red ink, and a pen that seemed to be made of bone covered in writing.

"What should I call you?" Lyra asked, looking up at Ambrose as she did, "Are you human? Or something escaped from the Warrens?"

[Dreyfus]

♅ 20th of Frost, Year 121, A.o.S ♅
Company: Unknown Woman - Poor thief| Thoughts: What an interesting woman| Mood: Intrigued, Cautious

♅ He watched her intently, using the edge of his shirt to wipe his mouth of the thief's blood. It was a curious sight to see her force the man into an accord of some kind, his bright blues watching as smoky wisps left her and entered him. He was curious as to the nature of that unique power and wondered if she would make a binding contract with her as well. He couldn't afford to be bound to another, not like that at least.

More so he found the power of her intriguing, wondering if it was an unknown form of magic or some ability gifted to her through extraordinary circumstances. Tapping into his rune, he used Veracity to take in her scent, to learn about the woman who was being so casual about what she had seen him do. His eyes quirked up a bit from what he gathered about her. She didn't smell.....normal. something about her was off which unnerved him for a moment.

Switching the sense smell that was enhanced by his rune to his hearing he listened to her heartbeat, and even that shocked him as well. It was slow as if the blood it was pumping was thick and visceral. She was just as odd as he was in a sense, which would explain her carefree demeanor around him. Her next question caused his brow to quirk up a bit, which made a smirk slither its way onto his features.

"The same could be wandered about you, but for now know I'm beyond the scope of being mortal knowing that I was once as you say, human. Sadly I have no experience within your Warrens to warrant an answer, though I doubt there are creatures as unique as me scuttling about down there." he explained, beginning to circle her, watching her as she worked.

"What was that thing you did that oath you made him swear to you? was that some form of magic, or are you more spirit masquerading as an elf? Just as you are curious of me, I find you to be intriguing." though if he was being honest his curiosity belied the need to feel her out, to determine whether or not he would have to kill her too. ♅

---

"Common Speech"
"Silandris Speech"
"Self-Thoughts"

[Lyra]

Lyra was glad she had chosen not to wear her normal robes for her outings into the Midden. She did not like getting blood on her fine clothes, but the pooling read beginning to soak into the dark fabric of her trousers where she knelt bothered her not at all. Rolling up the sleeves of her tunic she listened to the man as he spoke.

"Oath?" Lyra snorted. Taking up the bone quill Lyra leaned across the thief's body, pressing the tip of the instrument into the wound that was still flowing if little more than a trickle now. She then uncorked the bottle of ink and dipped the quill several times before beginning to draw a series of pictographs along her hand and forearm. They were twisting designs that spiraled from her elbow up to her wrist before crossing her palm and even her fingertips.

"It was merely a compulsion to focus a dying man. I used no Words, but still it is enough." When she finished with her left arm in a matter of seconds she repeated the same designs on her right, the pictographs giving impressions of ripping, capturing and subduing. Within seconds of being drawn the ink sank into the skin, becoming dark tattoos.

Setting the quill aside Lyra then began rubbing the grey ichor along her arms and hands, "So you were human?" Lyra asked while digging her fingers deeper into the jar, frowning until her fingers touched on a small stone which she pulled out from within the mixture. It was a simple cut of quartz, but had pictographs across its surface as well, "Curious, then did you become like this because of disease, or corruption?"

He was dodging her questions, subtly of course, but it was a game that Lyra could play as well. She glanced up at the man before taking a knife from her belt and cutting the thief's shirt all the way up to his chest, revealing a toned but not heavily muscled torso. Very different from the one still standing in front of her. Lyra set the gem on the thief's chest and began running her fingers along his abdomen, searching for something.

"You never gave your name." Lyra said, smiling at Ambrose before focusing on the thief. She then drove her hands into the man's abdomen, the skin rippling oddly as glyphs and runes coursed over his skin. HIs eyes opened wide, mouth agape in a wordless scream as he arched his back, but Lyra ignored all of this. Her golden eyes were focused as she reached deeper, put to her elbows as she felt, grasped at something until...

The man's entire body jerked and half rose of the ground as Lyra jerked her hands back, fingers grasped around something shining blue and struggling. With a breath Lyra blew a stream of black smoke that surrounded the thrashing ethereal body, slipping inside and around like chains that grasped it's tendril like limbs. With a final yank the soul was ripped free and it pulled against Lyra, but the smoke flowed around it, keeping it trapped while soft whispers filled the air and reverberated in the soul. Slowly the soul stopped thrashing, growing still while Lyra guided it toward the gem still sitting on the thief's chest.

"Sleep for now." Lyra said softly, hands guiding the soul toward the the gem. When the first strand of its essence touched the surface of the gem the blue light was drawn in, and the soul and the smoke were drawn inside until all that was left was a glowing soul gem that gave off a faint grey mist. Lyra picked up the gem and examined it before looking up at Ambrose once more, "You may call me Lyra."

[Dreyfus]

♅ 20th of Frost, Year 121, A.o.S ♅
Company: Unknown Woman - Poor thief| Thoughts: What an interesting woman| Mood: Intrigued, Cautious

♅ He could tell there was more to her answer than she was letting on, but he would not press it, he was far more intrigued with what she was doing to have questioned her further. His eyes watched with curious enthusiasm as she plunged her hand into his abdomen. He was quite curious as to what she was doing, watching as she rummaged around within him for a moment, the vampyre looking rather closely as she worked.

His eyes widened and he leaned in close as he watched her pull an orb of light from within him. Dante couldn't help but be baffled by what he was witnessing. What form of arcane sorcery was this? How could he get his hands on it? So many questions swirled in his head from not knowing. At that realization, he found himself snarling as it only cemented the budding hate he had for Zaichaer.

Her question pulled him back to the current situation, which caused a pause in his demeanor. He didn't know what all to tell her, so he would keep it vague. "Neither, magic is what turned me into what I am now." he would tell her nothing more for now. The orb of light was wrapped up in a smoky restraint, then for it to be pulled into some sort of stone, a sight that mesmerized him.

"Marvelous" he whispered, watching the woman work. His attention turned to the sound of footsteps splashing in the distance, drawing his eyes in the direction in which they were coming as the woman finished up her work. It was Dimitri, noted by the glint of the metal of his rifle as he came into view. Immediately he had it trained her, taking measured steps toward her, putting his body between Dante and her.

With a chuckle, Dante lowered the barrel of the gun away from her. "She is no threat to us, in fact, I do believe she may become a dear friend in time." he mused, matching the smile she gave him with a charming one of his own. At the mention of the lack of introduction, he smile and bowed. "Where are my manners, you may call me Vanhelsing, Dante Vanhelsing. The young man that's so protective of me is Dimitri."

Once upright he held a hand under his chin as he narrowed his eyes at her. "I must, just what form of sorcery was that? I am an enthusiast of magic and mages, and I've never seen such a form of arcane as that. Granted, where I come from magic is very much constrained." he inquired, curious eyes looking with the hope she may indulge him with an answer. ♅

---

"Common Speech"
"Silandris Speech"
"Self-Thoughts"

[Lyra]

At the sound of footsteps Lyra looked back over her shoulder, but did not stand as the man came into view and leveled his weapon in her direction. She tilted her head in a curious expression but felt no concern over the weapon itself. It would be quite annoying to lose this body so soon after having it finished, and while she could sacrifice it for parts it would take days to have a new one prepared. Thankfully it seemed the young man did not wish to see her dead yet, for he intervened on her behalf.

In the distance Lyra could feel the whisper she had left inside of Naila, but she did not reach out. The Mercenary would cause more problems than she would solve in showing up suddenly, but still. If she must Lyra could escape to her body instead.

"Ambrose Vanhelsing," She said softly, almost like she were tasting the words while she looked Ambrose up and down. Her eyes then shifted to Dimitri and she smiled broadly, "and Dimitri."

Her eyes lingered on the boy with the gun far longer than they had on Ambrose. Through the symphonies Lyra could hear the boy's nervousness, uncertainty behind a tough façade. Brave yes, but so young. SO very very young. His was starkly different from the melodies of Ambrose next to him. Confident to the point of arrogance, self assured, yet deep deep underneath a... conflict? Opposition? Perhaps it was the source of the anger that bubbled at the surface of his thoughts like a crashing gong that tried to mask the softer, more ambiguous tones beneath. His was the song of turmoil and change, and it made Lyrielle purr deep inside of Lyra's mind.

"You have nothing to fear child," Lyra said to Dimitri as she slipped the gem into one pocket, "I pose no threat to you, and you and your master could surely overwhelm one small woman such as I."

She then looked at Ambrose with a puzzled expression before she began rummaging through the corpses pockets, "You know of magics that turn a man into a feral beast, yet you do not know the magic I just used? How odd." Her eyes brightened as she pulled out a small wallet of sorts, riffling through it and finding few slips of papers and notes. She scanned them briefly before stowing the wallet and looking up at Ambrose, "That was sorcery as you call it has had many names through the centuries, but the current age calls it Necromancy."

It was magic which turned this man into what he was? More and more Lyra found herself wondering about this man and his condition, and then she came to a decision.

"Would you like a job?"

[Dreyfus]

♅ 20th of Frost, Year 121, A.o.S ♅
Company: Lyra & Dimitri| Thoughts: What an interesting woman| Mood: Intrigued, Cautious

♅ He had heard the terrible stories of necromancy, but now that he was able to see it up close, he couldn't fathom what was so abhorrent about it. From what he saw it was more so utility than dangerous. A scowl had formed upon his face as he had come to realize his aunt's words rang true. "Incompetent insects, the lot of them." he growled, a fist clenching as she continued.

"Forgive me, where I came from views magic as an abhorrent force. In truth, I come from Zaichaer, and I'm starting to realize how misguided my loyalty to their dogma was." he explained. Looking to the woman, he matched her smile with his own and quirked a brow when she made an inquiry on an opportunity of employment. "You just met me and wish to offer me a job? My, my aren't we the trusting type?" he teased, resting his chin within the palm of his hand.

"Very well I will hear your proposal." he mused, moving to set upon the steps that were behind the eerie woman. Dimitri remained where he was, his hand still on the trigger, positioned to raise his rifle if he didn't like what he heard. Ambrose found that to be one of the boys charming qualities, being so diligent in his duty to protect his master. His eyes scanned the woman over, noticing the look within her eyes.

They held the same fascinated glint his held for her. She was indeed an interesting woman, and he had seen so much in this short and vulnerable meeting. He wondered what exactly she had in mind. ♅

---

"Common Speech"
"Silandris Speech"
"Self-Thoughts"

[Lyra]

His reaction was equally as odd as his ignorance, that is until he made it known that he had come from Zaichaer. That admission made many things much clearer, and others all the more cloudy.

"We met in the underside of Kalzasi whilst you committed murder. Trust has nothing to do with it." Lyra said, standing and dusting off her knees where they had collected dirt from her kneeling. She frowned at the bloodstains, but there was nothing to do for them. She gathered her things and slung the satchel over her shoulder..

"I speak of practicality. It appears you require... sustenance shall we call it?" she eyed the corpse and then Ambrose, "Or at least you seem to enjoy it. I require more materials for my work."

Naila was drawing closer, keeping her distance but watching nonetheless. She likely wondered why Lyra had paused here for so long and had come to investigate. Lyra watched Ambrose curiously while she continued, "If during your outings you find need to do as you have done here, bring them to me and I shall pay for their disposal. I will pay more if they are still clinging to life."