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It had been an incredibly slow day in the Manse. He could have departed from the place at any time and in truth, there was nothing down there or up here that would have prevented him. Damp dreary days did not affect him, he wasn’t prone to crumble into dust or burst into flames in daylight, not his kind. He could have strolled anywhere he chose on the surface, the market, the gardens, or the temple quarter, but being surrounded by people when you were starting to become hungry again would have been similar to placing a starving street urchin in a sweet shop and having the proprietor glare at him holding a whip. He could control his urges, he was never really that weak to allow them to dominate him. He avoided crowds because it could make him irritable and humans would witness this behaviour. He didn’t care what others thought of him but when you have a pale-looking redhead whose eyes have turned silver grey and bloodshot with black veins it does draw too much attention, especially when Moroi vampires were known in these parts.

Vampires were so well known there was a vampire hunter’s guild led by a redhead named Callan. Of all the atrocities! Everywhere else vampire hunters were middle-aged bristled men, wide at the waist and wearing tweed, questioning the origins of their beliefs. Men that have scorned the world because they believe they are the sole fighters in a never-ending war against vampires and spitting ‘didn’t I tell you it would come to this!’ They are not supposed to be delightful looking youths!

He leaned in his shadowy refuge, an alcove next to the chimney breast, and felt the warmth seeping through the stone as his dark blue eyes surveyed the dismal street. The rain had just about stopped but the clouds still hung dark and heavy over the city assuring another deluge was in the making for later. Heavy drops flowed down drain pipes and roof gutters that were blocked by mounds of moss. Did they ever dry out he thought to himself, as a cruel smile played on his lips when several people hurried past unaware of his presence. The clock in the tower that overlooked the merchant’s quarter clunked then chimed seven times. Market stalls and shops would be closing and business concluding for the evening and many citizens would seek to attend the local alehouse to be entertained by merry songs and strong drinks, forgetting their troubles until the next morning.

It was time for another kind of city dweller to take to the streets. The muggers, pickpockets, and scroungers. Beggars picking through the bins and urchins crawling under the trade benches for a chance of finding a forgotten coin. But all would swiftly leave the scene when the bobbies from the night watch strolled past. Holbein was the night watch commander, a confident man but also a very sharp individual with devious tactics and it was presented in the training and attitude of his men.

The street was deserted now. The warm light from the Traveller’s Inn had gathered its patrons for the evening but no doubt there would be one or two stragglers and that’s who Dregan was waiting for.
It's possible this is going to be another wasted night!

He sat, propped against a bale of straw with a small crossbow resting comfortably in his hand, hidden in the shadows. The thick dark green, slightly worn coat he wore protected his back from the prickly hay that had been tied into large bundles and set to the back of the stable away from its only regular occupant which was a woolly old wisent. The animal snorted, not appreciating his newest neighbour.

Do be quiet ye fat cow. I'm not planning to stay.

Green-flecked brown eyes narrowed in his vigil as he noted the folk from the market and surrounding businesses close up and commute to their homes. A few strayed into the local inn, a social call to chatter with their associates, be it to brag about their best sales or complain about the city's taxes. The drink would ease their aches and lighten their hearts as well as their purses, eating into what profit they made but it was a vice they were prepared to pay for even if it left many with a hangover the next morning.

Callan didn't drink, not that much anyway. He wasn't available to socialize very often. His duty kept him active all night and because of this, his daylight activities were limited to sleeping, eating, and preparing himself for his nightly vigil.

At least the rain's stopped, almost. Why does the weather have to be so bloody wet? Everything gets moldy!
Narcisa had made her way to the merchant's quarter just in time for the closing of the shops, stopping near the Traveler's Inn as she watched the semi organized chaos. Countless people scurried around as they closed up shops, most heading home while a few stragglers opted instead for the Inn, until all too soon the streets were nearly deserted. A peaceful quiet settled on the area, and a small smile danced on Narcisa's lips.

She quite enjoyed the nightlife here, as she liked venturing out, but quite disliked crowds and people in general. In fact, she liked the rain a lot more than people, finding a soothing effect from it. But, she did sometimes enjoy watching people, and tonight had been no exception. Dressed in rather plain black garb, she had melted into the shadows as she kept her pale skin and silver hair from view, the only thing visible from under her hood being her piercing blue eyes.
It was soggy after the rain, and the pungent smell of damp everything masked almost any delicate scents that would otherwise have been evident. From his position, he viewed the front of the inn and the stable close by the south exit, his eyes were trying to seek out something that didn't sit comfortably with his intuition. His auburn brows frowned when he made out movement, a shorter person concealing themselves in black perhaps, not one of the thieves' guild members, they wore grey to blend into their surroundings. They believed wearing black could make you darker than the shadows. They moved with a feminine grace but that didn't necessarily mean they were female. He was familiar with one of the young men who often portrayed a woman during plays, he was very convincing and had Dregan fooled when he first encountered him. Nevertheless, it turned out to be a very pleasurable experience. The memory unleashed a smile.

He breathed in deeply, still aware of his concern. As a human, he still lacked certain abilities that some of the older of his kin had acquired through the years, so most of the time he relied on his instincts and swift reflexes. Though the person could easily be the object to quench his thirst, there was something obscure about them. Perhaps a little conversation would enlighten him, he wasn't averse to greeting people or making friends when it suited him. Occasionally there were times he would have a friendly chat with his victim, especially if there was no notion of what he was. He would talk about the current news and agree with their opinions to place them in a relaxed and positive mood and offer to stroll home with them to carry on the conversation. Easy targets. His grin widened.

He ambled out of his shadowy alcove and walked over to the inn with a relaxed gait as if he was seeking the same comfort as the others, but his gratification was much different. He inclined his head as if he had just noticed the person, a marginal act of course but he was willing to perform in this scene for his amusement.

"Hello?" His grin was friendly and he kept his voice soft as he approached the figure. "Are you lost?" He enquired as he changed his tone slightly to make it seem he was genuinely offering to render assistance.
Narcisa breathed in deeply as she stood outside in the inn, taking in all the different scents around her. She didn't mind the pungent dampness, she was quite used to the rain and night smells as she operated almost entirely at night. Even with the mask the rain provided, she was able to pick out certain scents that interested her. She wasn't entirely sure what all she was able to weed out, but she wouldn't be at all surprised if something were to happened tonight.

Whether or not she was aware that wearing black made her stand out to the trained eye, she didn't seem bothered by it. Perhaps that was her goal. Maybe she wanted to be noticed by someone in particular. Or perhaps she simply believed the incorrect thought that black allowed her to disappear. One wouldn't know just by watching from afar.

She was aware of a figure beginning to stroll over toward the inn, and her in the process, but she made no effort to look until they were close enough to speak to her. She did however, breathe in their scent as they came closer, distinguishing it from the others as something... different.

"Hello." She said softly, smiling as she turned her gaze to the figure, her piercing eyes searching his face. "Not at all, simply enjoying some fresh air." She said simply. With her head tilted up to allow her to meet his gaze, he was allowed a better view of her face and features. She certainly appeared quite feminine, with a voice to match, but perhaps there was room for error even still.
Now, this is interesting.

He strained to quieten his breathing as a figure stepped out of the shadow and strolled towards another person. The evening was dark but the lantern light that hung over the inn's entrance and the soft glow from the windows illuminated both people. The one that caught his attention most of all was the red-haired man, his face was familiar.

Remarkable. Looks like I wasn't wasting my time after all.

Quietly and limiting his movements so he would not be detected he fingered out a steel-headed bolt from his bag and placed it in the flight groove of the crossbow. It was already cocked to fire but he thought of safety first and only loaded it when he needed to. The bolt he used if it struck its mark with accuracy would incapacitate the vampire, a second bolt would be loaded but it would be made with mercury and copper with the aim to cause as much damage as possible.

Mercury was poisonous and Callan took great care not to fire any of these special bolts if there was a risk of missing his quarry. The thought of accidentally poisoning a person weighed on his mind. Because he understood the creature's vulnerabilities, he always focused on the heart. Not to destroy the human heart but the Strigoi heart that latched onto it like a leech, then he would strike a final blow and decapitate the creature before taking its remains and incinerating them and spreading the ashes into the river. Destroying the creature for good.

His finger was lightly on the trigger as he raised the crossbow, tilting his head to the right and glaring down the sight. He needed the man to stand at the right angle, but he held his patience.
Coralie Auger pulled up the hood of her brown woolen cloak as she exited her wealthy client's mansion by the servants entrance, the same way she had entered an hour earlier when Lady Giselle Renfray had sent word by one of her maids to the The Silver Sewing Box Guild that she was feeling too indisposed to venture out and that she wanted Coralie to attend to her fitting for the up and coming ball at her home.

Swallowing her pride and going out across town from the guild’s shop, she had set out in the rain with her satchel and sewing kit. She could hardly refuse Lady Renfray's demands as she was still only an apprentice and she was lucky enough that the older noble woman favoured her work. Lady Renfray might take her on as patron if the embellishments Cora made to the original design continued to please her. She thought of this as she made her way back to her home near the clothing stores.

She walked with quick steps, not really liking being out once the shops closed for the evening. The rain had stopped but she was unused to the cold dampness of The City. She was not native to this land, having only arrived as an immigrant about two years ago seeking refuge from the political turmoil of her country of birth. She had discovered that this was a strange city with stranger tales about its denizens. The colour of her skin was hardly an issue here once she discovered so many different races she had once thought only existed in fairy tales.

Coralie was more concerned with more mundane threats at the moment such as those who came out to ply their trade as most honest citizens ended their day's work and were ripe targets for pickpockets, cutpurses, muggers, streetwalkers and beggars that became aggressive at times. She clutched her satchel more tightly as she neared the Traveller’s Inn and lightly jumped over a puddle of dirty water.

The warm glow coming from the inn was a tempting sight as were the pleasing odor of cooking food reaching her nostrils. It competed with the less welcomed smells of pungent dampness and certain unwashed human bodies. She paused a moment debating if she should enter or continue to head straight home. She let out a small gasp of surprise when a male figure seemed to step out of the shadowy alcove and towards the inn. At first she thought his greeting and question might have been directed her way, though she didn't think she looked lost. A feminine voice answered the first coming from somewhere behind her and this caught her off guard for the second time in less than two minutes.

Her wide dark eyes darted between the two figures, one with a more petite and delicate silhouette dressed in black which made it difficult to notice more. The other was taller and seemed to have a more masculine form about them, but again it was difficult to tell. Cora felt as though she was intruding between the two and made to step back out of their way.
He heard another approach with a light step then a sudden sharp intake of breath, a delightful sound in his opinion. He glanced her way for a moment, her intrusion had stolen his attention from the other. He sensed a strong heart and imagined the blood rushing through intricate veins.

He tore away his gaze and focused back on the one with silver-hued hair and offered her his most charming closed-lip smile. "The air is damp but I agree it is fresh, even in a city like this there are occasional invigorating breezes. Perhaps..." His skin tightened as if warning him, a sensation he had experienced before and was taken very seriously. The young woman, there was no doubt she was, captivated him for a moment. What he sensed by her presence confounded him and he had never met anyone that felt complex. He teased the inside of his lip with his fangs entertained by the idea that this person was unique to him.

He was about to continue and offer to accompany her when his gaze was drawn back to the darker-skinned woman. "It will be a delightful evening." He said, his dark blue eyes fading in colour as he focused intently for a moment on the woman's neck. Her blood would be delectable, he thought, even if it were just a trickle on his tongue he would savour the succulent warmth and mineral taste. Oh, the pleasure of that soft-skinned slender neck in his mouth, he was growing in hunger. It looked as though the woman was going to visit the inn, perhaps he could entertain the silver-haired girl, get to know more about her but also consider the other for his needs.

He shivered, he wasn't ignoring the warning. It was too still, too calm! Even the ox in the stable had stopped munching!
She noted the other woman as she approached, but her gaze remained on the male in front of her as she nodded at his words. "Indeed." She said simply. Her gaze may have been on the male, but her attentions were elsewhere as she continued to take in the smells and sounds around them. One such as her could never let her guard down, as she was well aware of someone else's presence. Though not close to them, she could not rule them out as a threat.

She continued to watch this male as his attention shifted back to the newcomer, a soft smile appearing on her lips as she studied him. The way his eyes changed color as he seemed to stare into her soul, why she could almost feel him straining against himself. It was almost comical in fact, the way he had to fight it. She had felt that feeling before. She knew from his scent before he even approached, that they had something in common. "My, so eager.." She mumbled softly, a slight sparkle to her eye. "Best not act. They are always watching." She whispered so the female would not hear, knowing he would.

She then turned her gaze to the female, smiling warmly. "Good evening. It is quite unusual to see one as beautiful as you, alone so late. Would you care for an escort?" She asked, her voice friendly and inviting. She did not want to scare her, but it was not safe for her out and about right now. Best she get home quickly and without incident.
His finger rested gently against the trigger as he stared down the length if the oak crossbow stock, his hazel eyes focused intently on the vampire's chest as if the glare itself had the means to destroy the wicked creature. His breath caught in his lungs and held there in suspense as he was about to tighten his grip to release the bolt. Someone now blocked his view, standing between him and the vampire as if they were a shield suddenly conjured by the devil himself!

"Bastard!" He heard his voice break from his lips involuntary as he grew furious at the ill luck. Callan pulled back, his hand partially drawn away from the trigger as his glare went to the one who obstructed his view. A woman! And one in a perilous position.

Bugger and fuck it!

One second was all it could have taken to be the moment of her demise but she was lucky he was swift and in control, well trained from a young age. He had to destroy the foul blood-drinker, he would not be denied this chance given to him, the fates would not interfere. Rising from the hay quickly he strode a few steps until he could aim at his target proper between the two people. A sudden thought came to him now that he was aware of his exposure in the amber light of the street and he called out to the vampire.

"Hey, Moroi! Gorgeous hair ye have there!" Raising the crossbow he gripped the stock, aimed and pressed his finger hard on the trigger. The mechanism of the crossbow gave a loud click then the bolt was released.
She stood still for a moment, her dark eyes narrowing as her sharp ears picked up the conversation between the two people near her and at a certain angle, between her. From what she thought she was picking up it was also starting to make her feel awkward and uncomfortable. She felt like one of the girls that sometimes modeled more refined gowns her head seamstress Mrs. Yvorra Wyers had designed and she had helped sew. She didn’t like or care for the feeling that she was somehow on display or being inspected, especially with the woman’s comment about her physical looks.

She always felt that beauty was in the eye of the beholder and that was something her friend and correspondent Eva agreed upon. Working as a seamstress she could certainly debate that people’s taste varied greatly. Also, what was one’s physical looks really when an accident could have someone lose an eye or time and age could fade one’s physical beauty away. People needed to be so much more than the sum of their looks whether considered conventional attractive or not.

From the little of what she could see of the person with the feminine voice and what she could make of the very pale unblemished skin, the other woman was very attractive in her own right, but her words, though her tone was friendly, annoyed her. Did this woman think she was completely helpless and a child needing an escort home?

She was about to retort that she needed no escort when a familiar and sharp pricking pain at her nape had her veer to the side quickly as the word Bastard broke through. Coralie stepped to the side to see a ginger-haired young man with pale skin and a freckled complexion, which might have made him look slightly younger than his actual years, step forth. She thought him rather attractive in a puffed up, passionate and angry way. She might have found the situation comical if a crossbow wasn’t being aimed near her, though not directly at her.
Then she heard the bolt being released!

Douce Marie, le jeune homme roux était-il un fou? She was very much at the wrong place, at the wrong time and why was he taking the time to comment on this Moroi person’s hair if Moroi was indeed the other man’s name?
The uttered curse seized his attention with force, his eyes widened and paled to a ghostly shimmer when he was alerted to the movement of someone stepping out of the stable. The call to him momentarily confused him. Who would know what he was and the remark concerning his hair would have had him linger and bask in the praise if it had not been for the weapon aimed at his heart!

He breathed in sharply then bared his teeth savagely as he identified the face of the intruder but his aggressive reaction was cut short as the crack resounded in his ears. The strigoi heart beat mercilessly against his human heart, vehement in it's need to survive this encounter. It would aid him and fill his veins with supernatural abilities. He moved with fluid grace angling his body and rolling his shoulder. It seemed as if time had suddenly slowed as he witnessed the bolt miraculously fly past him, he observed the detail of it's make, the pattern of the steel and the grain of the wood. His body turned from the path of the projectile with devilish grace.

Then he landed on all fours facing his enemy, his red hair flowing behind him as if it were a cape. " Your blood I will taste tonight!" Came the menacing warning coated with a sinister snarl. "This ends now!"
Cora saw the pale figures' eyes seem to shift and shimmer. Her deep brown ones quickly flitted away. She did not think it wise to meet his gaze though she kept track of his whereabouts without directly looking at him. He moved faster, leading credence that he was more than a mere human such as herself. She bit down on her full lower lip to keep the gasp of shock from escaping her lips and drawing more attention to herself.

She felt trapped between two madmen and their battle in the streets of the City. She didn't know what the other woman's place was in all of this, if she was an innocent bystander in their quarrel of an accomplice to one of them, but her own survival was her utmost concern at the moment and she needed to decide what to do in a heartbeat or risk her next breath or so being her last.

The pale, red-haired figure’s snarled words sealed her decision and she moved as quickly as her mortal legs would allow as she sought refuge behind the armed crossbow man, but she didn't intend to remain completely helpless before the crazed one that wanted the ginger-haired man's blood and to taste it no less! She found such a thought repulsive! She rapidly bent to retrieve the metal dagger hidden in her boot with her right hand and her silver scissors from her satchel. She wasn't really trained to fight, but she spread her booted feet apart the width of her narrow shoulders and slightly bent her knees as she tried to adopt what she hoped would be a defensive stance with her dagger and scissors branded in each hand. She let out a belting yell of "FIRE! FIRE! FIRE!"

Few would help if they risked their life to confront a murderer, but property seemed to be more important where she had originally come from. She was about to see if the citizens of the City were different.
The vampire's growl did nothing to deter Callum as he grasped another bolt and armed the crossbow quickly again, anticipating the moroi's next move but the yell made from one of the bystanders interrupted him. He cursed knowing it was an careless move that left him momentarily vulnerable to the vampire. They were swift creatures and you had to be alert to their actions or you would lose the fight. Callum most of all, for he suspected if he failed in his quest, he would become a moroi.

What was the silly woman doing?

"Blast it woman! Ye put'n peoples lives at risk!" With that alarm she would have everyone running into the street and become an obstruction, patrons, guards anyone who heard her shout. He didn't need the interference and it would make the situation more dangerous for everyone. He raised the crossbow again, if he could take one good shot to wing the bastard, at least then he could follow the trail.
"Perfect! Absolutely perfect!" He gleamed, the commotion would aid his escape from this farce, and swiftly. He had a guess his threatening outburst wouldn't deter the red head, he was like a bulldog, strong willed and a pain in the ass. Dregan would now use his flush of adrenalin to launch himself away from the mans attack and hopefully find himself safe back at the manse.

As the door to the tavern swung open and people began to fill the street with twisted faces of wide open mouths and eyes, obviously expecting to be greeted with billowing smoke and embers, Dregan angled his body avoiding the next shot and grinned widely. "FIRE!" He added, just to add kindling to the woman's false declaration. Once the street guards arrived and the crowd became angry, she would be in serious trouble. He sniggered.

With speedy, light steps that seemed almost unnatural he managed to avert both the bolt and most of the people as he fled back from the scene, taking to the darker streets and down towards the poorer section of the City.
From his vantage point, Vas watched the chaos unfolding at the Travellers Inn with eager anticipation. His eyes were glued to the telescope, captivated by the moroi's skillful evasion of the hunter. A smile of amusement played on his lips as he watched the spectacle, but tonight was different. It was Vas's turn to hunt, and he would venture out from the mansion to track down the intruder who had stolen something precious.
As he stood there, Vas felt the first gnawing emptiness begin to consume him. It wasn't mere hunger pangs that plagued him, but an eerie hollowness that crept through his veins. His tongue licked over his parched lips, and he knew that he needed to feed soon. With a deep breath, he readied himself for the hunt, determined to catch the intruder and retrieve what was rightfully his.
The moment the alarm of 'Fire' echoed through the tavern, the patrons spilled out onto the street, their faces etched with concern and urgency. In a swift response to the potential disaster, some individuals quickly snatched up any utensils they could find, hastily filling them with water from nearby troughs. Their determined expressions mirrored the gravity of the situation, as they understood the importance of being prepared for the worst.

As the nightwatchman rushed to the scene, his hands trembled with anticipation. He hastily removed his helmet as he reached the nearest water source, a trough filled with water. With unwavering determination, he plunged his helmet into the cool liquid, believing that his actions would make a difference. However, to his surprise, there was no smell of smoke. Despite his initial disappointment, he remained vigilant, ready to face any challenge that lay ahead.

Meanwhile, a few others struggled to push their way back into the inn, desperately searching for any available buckets that could aid in extinguishing any flames. The chaotic scene unfolded before the eyes of onlookers, who were both bewildered and alarmed by the sudden commotion. Amidst the frenzy, a handful of individuals chose a different course of action, fleeing the scene altogether. With hurried steps, they darted towards the slums or even made their way towards the distant outside gate, seeking refuge from the perceived danger.

"WHERE'S THE FIRE!" One man hollered, followed by a flurry of echoes from the crowd. "Where is it?" came a panicked voice. "Is it beneath?" Despite the lack of any visible smoke or fire, the absence of an immediate threat only served to heighten the panic that gripped the crowd. Whispers and murmurs spread like wildfire, fueling the belief that the source of the fire must lie beneath the very foundations of the city. The notion that the gates of hell themselves had been flung open became a chilling possibility in the minds of those caught in the midst of the chaos.
With the agility of a predator, Ned prowled through the dark streets, his fearsome red eyes had caught sight of the escaping vampire but he wasn't going to pursue it. He had no intention of engaging in a rooftop chase or scaling buildings like a nimble cat. No, Ned preferred a more brutal approach, a sudden and violent ambush or a direct confrontation, where he could witness the fear in his opponent's eyes up close.

As he moved swiftly, a cacophony of voices shouting "FIRE" echoed through the air, drawing his attention towards the commotion. A wicked grin spread across his face, revealing his sharpened teeth, as he realized that the chaos was leading him closer to his target, Callan. Humans, fragile creatures that they were, easily succumbed to fear and panic at the slightest disturbance. It was as if fear oozed out of them, permeating the atmosphere like the pungent odor of a river in the scorching summer heat.

Seizing an old bucket filled with foul-smelling nightsoil, Ned closed the distance to the commotion with a few powerful strides. With a purposeful intent, he emptied the repugnant contents onto the street, the putrid slops splattering against the cobblestones and the unsuspecting legs of the onlookers. His voice rumbled with a menacing growl as he declared, "Fire's out!" His blood-red eyes fixated on those who dared to meet his gaze, radiating an aura of intimidation that could send shivers down their spines.

{post order. Coralie, Keithen.}
She was putting people’s lives at risk!?! She couldn’t believe the gall of the young ginger-haired man. “I’m putting people’s lives at risk! You’re the one who’s firing a crossbow in a public street, you maniac and in case you haven’t noticed, you missed!” She hissed at him only loud enough so that he could hear her. “I’m hoping to save your life and my own!” she replied berating him.

It seemed that the other person with red hair and a pallid face, though by the speed and agility of his movements she was becoming more convinced that he was more than a mere human like herself, was taking up her false call for aid as well and using it to cover his escape. She breathed a sigh of relief to see that one of the two combatants would be backing down as she’d hoped, but who and what he might be, worried her. He had talked about tasting the young crossbowman’s blood!

It seemed to her that the one wanting blood was gone in nearly the blink of her eyes and her sense of relief seemed short lived as the street started to rally to her and the other’s cry of “FIRE”.

Her deep brown eyes darted around looking for an exit with mounting urgency as she spotted the nightwatch man in his livery taking his helmet to fill it with water from the nearby horses trough. She had to think or move quickly. The real possibility that she would be fined at best or jailed at worst for falsely crying out an alarm was beginning to dawn on her. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but perhaps not so much so now.

The fearsome looking being that had just emptied the foul smelling contents on the streets from an old bucket and declared that the “Fire’s out.” had most likely saved her from having to admit that there never had been any fire and facing the night watchman’s and the crowd’s fury. He truly was a menacing looking person with his blood red eyes, but willingly or not, for the moment he was her saviour. “Thank-you for saving us.” She called out, meaning what she said, though not the way most of these people would understand it.

((Post order: Keithen))

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