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Roan DeSeer
Captain

Enduring Vampire

PostPosted: Fri Jan 23, 2009 6:16 am


*reaching up idly, Raoul cut Volundr's legs down, a viscious grin on his face, for all the childe would not be able to see it. It had been MANY moons since the General had had someone to train from scratch, and Volundr's hatred amused him greatly. STILL, the General was the gentler option and the kid had NO idea who lightly he was getting off. Regardless. There was a lesson to teach here.*

Pitiful... awakening and reacting in anger, failing to heal yourself and drink after I let you go last night, FAILING to read the books I mentioned, instead spending your time cataloguing yoru own fate. In a way... you almost deserved this, childe. Let us see if you are ready to LISTEN to me, rather than just react to me.

*The General slit his own wrist, adding that potent scent of vitae to the room, tempting Volundr as he had previously.*

There is a woman bound on one side of the room. On the other, there is me. Your body will want what you can smell, but your sense should tell you to eat the Kine, to avoid a total blood bond to me. Let us see if you cant fight through your own pain. This is about survival Volundr. If you cant survive me, theres NO point EVER letting you leave these walls. You'll be just another meal.
PostPosted: Fri Jan 23, 2009 11:16 am


Volundr groaned as he rolled onto his stomach and his frame began to shake as a horrible gurgling chuckle hoarsely slipped from his mouth. Laying spread eagle on the floor face pressed against the stones his gasping laughter filled the room, reverberating and echoing giving the already maniacal cackling sound an edge of dementation that would send chills through most. With a gasp and a shudder the noise stopped as quickly as it began and Volundr’s head snapped up from the floor and tilted to one side, listening for movement. His nostrils flared taking in the scent’s of Raoul’s vitae mixed with his own that was thick in the air and the lesser human blood in the corner. In one quick movement he hefted himself off of the floor, catching his legs beneath him in a crouch, hands splayed on the ground and head still cocked to the side. With a surge of speed Volundr shot forward toward Raoul with a wordless snarl but his aim was not true and his charge took him two feet off to the left of the General, and sailing headfirst into the stone wall behind him with a loud slap.

Gareth Blyne


Raoul Camarilla

PostPosted: Fri Jan 23, 2009 11:30 am


....... pitiful.

*Raoul rolled his eyes and sighed, swiftly moving in behidn Volundr and shoving him further into the wall with the brute force of his own body, holding the younger cainite still*

Try HARDER. THINK Volundr. Weak as you are, you can do better than this! You're NOT just another meal! Taste my blood again and you are MINE for eternity. My servant, my slave, you will blindly throw yoursel finto Hell itself. THINK past it. You're wounded, a lion with a thorn in its paw. Take the EASY meal. You KNOW I'll fight back. TRY and SURVIVE.

*He cuffed the fledgling over the head, then leapt back, giving him the choice again - Raoul, now on a different side of the room, the human struggling to the left*
PostPosted: Fri Jan 23, 2009 12:30 pm


Volundr’s head was spinning. His back was a raw sea of agony, his head felt as if it had been split in two, his eyes burned like embers had been thrust into them; and through this haze he was aware of other things, his rapidly depleting blood stock, Raoul’s voice, the scent of his elder’s vitae. There was too much to make sense of. Groping blindly he slid down the wall and came to rest on his knees hunched over with his head in his hands. Thrusting the pain back he listened and through the ringing in his ears he heard the General’s voice. “…blood…slave…into hell…THINK…wounded…TRY and SURVIVE!”

Blood, yes, the blood that bound them, the blood that sustained them. The blood that he was loosing far too rapidly, this scene had gone on far too long. It was time to pull himself out, to Try and Survive. His torn eyes opened and the blood dripping from every wound in his body ceased. Volundr took his hand from his face and lifted it high above his head and in a whistling motion he swung it around and slapped himself on the back. Stars burst in his mind but the pain was the challenge he had to overcome. Using it as a catalyst for his focus he began to heal himself, the remaining blood racing through his veins rebuilding the structure of his back. The healing process was drastically faster this time, filling his mind with the pain he directed the blood with astounding speed, re-attaching, regenerating, until his back was almost completely healed in a little over a minute. Small tracers and dimples where the hooks had taken pieces with them were the only sign of the mauling that he had inflicted upon himself.

Once he had finished closing the wounds on his back Volundr staggered to his feet. He was pale and ragged, blood beginning to dry in the rivulets that had poured from his back and face but the expression on his face was a smirk of determination. When he got to his feet, he held absolutely still and took in his surroundings, the blood-slicked stone beneath his feet, the cool damp air passing his skin, the smell of Raoul’s vitae, the sound of the struggling human. In the forefront of his mind however was the searing pain in his eyes. It was what kept him anchored to his thoughts. He turned his head to the side and listened more intently to the breathing of the kine across the room and with a steady stride made a beeline for his prey. As he drew closer to the far side of the room the thick scent of his elder’s vitae pressed heavily upon his nose but as before with the knife, the his wounded eyes gave him the presence of mind to push it away, to disregard it.

Volundr came to a stop when his foot struck the struggling human. Crouching he leaned in close to the kine and whispered “Easy now… It isn’t as bad as all that. Stop struggling and it will be over faster.” He then viciously seized the man and plunged his teeth into his shoulder. Draining him dry in a matter of minutes. When he finished Volundr sat back and turned his head skyward sending the newly acquired blood to restore his vision. After another minute he opened his eyes and surveyed the damage with a look of disappointment. Then he turned to Raoul and kneeled.

“I apologize master. I was weak.”

Gareth Blyne


Korbinian Heilwig

PostPosted: Fri Jan 23, 2009 1:10 pm


((Cant be arsed to change account))

You are forgiven, childe... you are young, not even a year dead. This is training, JUST training... but everything is a test. If you cannot overcome the obstacles I throw you here, there is EVERY chance you will be consumed in a night back out on the streets. The world you left behind, is gone from you. The world you would return to.... its beyond dangerous.

*Raoul went to Volundr and knelt by him, raising his head, a thumb playing over the younger cainites cheek*

There is no shame in weakness, as long as you work to make it strength. Just now, you healed as I wished you to heal. Now.. you must practice to be able to do it without the extreme circumstances. Think you can do that?
PostPosted: Mon Jan 26, 2009 6:48 pm


Volundr let out a shuddering breath. "I believe I can..." He was tired but he had passed the test; abliet not with flying colors but that was one more skill he had under his belt and a step closer to his goals.

Looking up he quietly asked "So, what's next?"

Gareth Blyne


Fenrir Blazeheart

PostPosted: Tue Jun 23, 2009 12:07 am


"We're well and truely in the thick of it now mate. Enemy territory that is.."

"You dun have t' tell me, airman. I was there."

Fenrir cocked a brow at the pilot of the Gulfstream IV, as he had left the cockpit in the hands of his co-pilot in favour of moving to the rear of the plane to speak with Fenrir, who sat before a small desk, manilla folder infront of him with a variety of photos layed out, including a few of the Cainite Roan had identified as being Raoul. Among them, those most frequently seen in his company.

What the Gael wore, could be most accurately described as a sort of pressure suit, looking like a combination of bike armour and dive attire. Articulated light armour embedded into the joints of his shoulders, elbows, wrists knees and the like along with his spine, this wasn't some tourist's hawaian shirt and shorts, and the plane wasn't flying under radar cover approaching Yorkshire for the purpose of sight seeing. Pressure and moisture proofed headset around the back of his neck, short life oxygen mask and goggles hanging over his chest from the straps and utility vest fastened firmly to his torso, altimeter strapped tightly to his wrist. Fenrir wasn't looking to land.

Resting in the seat next to Fenrir, was both a large black duffle bag, and a rifle. A rifle of conciderable size itself. An M107 Barrett sniper rifle mounted with night vision optics.

"Aye, I forgot that for a minute there mate. So, you still playing secret agent man, or are you gonna tell me why i'm not back in Sydney drinking on my deck?"

The pilot took a seat opposite fenrir at the table, looking over the photos briefly.

"The less you know the better."

"I'm sure. Concidering you called me, instead of going through the usual procedures to get a chartered flight out with the Wing. You dont even have a passport, do you."

"Wont be going through customs, didn't see the point."

The pilot leaned forward, trying to force eye contact with Fenrir, speaking in a more critical, meaningful tone.

"Hey, Captain. Whats this all about."

Fenrir would glance up at the pilot, simply staring for a moment before sitting back in his seat and sighing heavily.

"How many times I gotta tell you, O'brian. Those ranks aren't real, especially the officers. We dont exist, there for neither do our ranks.... Its something to do with the past. YOU weren't even a twinkle in your pop's eye at the time, so i'll make this perfectly clear. If you're found out, and the Wing asks why you were flying over brittish air space..."

"Dont worry, I can smooth myself out there with the Fianóglach.... So you're not going to tell me. That hurts mate."

"As bad as that shrapnel, before I carried your arse out of fire in Liberia?"

Standing up, the pilot raised his hands in defeat, and slowly retreated back to the cockpit with a chuckle.

"Right, right. Dont ask, dont tell I got it. But after this we're even buddy. I NEARLY lost my legs. Nearly."

Smirking at the old pilot's retreat, Fenrir went back to going through his files, before that mix of Irish, and Australian came through the headset around his neck now.

"We're nearly in range of the farm house, Fenrir. We'll be over the drop zone in five."

Sure enough, after five minutes, the plane was flying over a large property of farm land and country side in Yorkshire, fast approaching an old farm house at the center, and Fenrir was ready.

Parachute secured and duffle fastened to his chest to hang down about his thighs, Fenrir tucked the rifle close to his chest, making sure to brace the scope securely.

And on the latch, it was only as the pilot gave the go-ahead, the Gael opened the door and threw himself out of the plane, co-pilot on hand to shut the door after him, aided by the less than standard hydrolic mods made for exactly this purpose.

In the dead of night it was impossible to spot the Fianóglach on his descent, even after the parachute had been deployed. Now the rifle came into play. The farm house was a covert station and pick up point for the special ARW division that Fenrir belonged to, run and operated as any farm would be commercially, they by this hour there was only ever a core handful of men present. Usually a current ARW operative, and a few recently retired members. Tonight however, there would be only the one person present, an old retired Fianóglach member. Hidden in plain sight perfectly there was still a chance interceptions could have been made at any point of the planning of, or actual journey.

So as the Blazeheart descended at a comfortable pace, the rifle was shouldered and he began scanning the area with the night vision. No cars, no unexplained light sources, and no people, aside from the sole occupant expected, waiting on the front porch of the farm house, holding a rifle much like Fenrir's up to spot him.

Upon landing, Fenrir didn't have to wait long before an old ute was upon him in the fields, an older, scarred man assisting him by driving back to the barn where they disposed of the parachute in a hidden floor compartment there fr exactly that purpose. Fenrir was also given the oppertunity to disemble his rifle and conceal the compnents in his duffle, after removing a large tattered old jacket and jeans. With his goggles, mask and the like in the duffle, side arms and the like concealed in his bag, Fenrir was then ready to meet the old man out the front of the bar with the ute.

"Its been a while, old boy."

"Hey, i'm atleast still pretty, right?"

Dumping his duffle back into the rear of the ute, Fenrir took a moment to look through the bag once more, and pull out a bottle of scotch. OLD scotch, and knowing how old Fenrir was, it was no surprise he had a bottle so old to hand over to the senior, who held himself up with a cane, sucking idly on a pipe as he took the bottle.

"I appreciate the help, must'a been a task gettin' the younger ones out of the joint for the night."

"Are you kidding? I just told them the local tavern would honour them my tab for the night."

The pair broke out in laughter, Fenrir leaning up against the back tray of the ute as the ninety or so old man looked over the bottle given him.

"Its worth it though, fer one o' these. I remember the las' one ye showed me. Only let me have a snort though, ya rat bag."

"Hey, you were barely old enough to drink ANYTHING, let alone something as fine as that. By this time though, its even more a treat."

"I'll have t' hide this one. Well. You remember what it was like 'round 'ere with good stuff."

"Aye, I do.... Ne'er was there a sniffer dog as talented as the lads stuck in that old house when it came to booze.... Well, I best be on my way. I've got some distance to go, and I would rather be well on my way before day break. The less travelling I can do in the day, the better."

The old man nodded, tucking the bottle of scotch under his arm as he staggered along with Fenrir to the front cab, closing the door for his old comrade.

"Thanks Conor, you really are a gem."

"Its got something to do with the IRA jacket I saw in your duffle, dosn't it.... Shannon, right? No worries old fella."

Fenrir could only smile warmly at the old man, giving him a gentle pat on the shoulder before turning the engine over.

"Thanks mate, you can call it even now if you like."

"What, fer gettin' dragging my a** through the war?... Hell, I would have done it for just the bottle."

Fenrir cracked up, throwing his head back in laughter before starting back up the dirt road, leaving Conor behind, still laughing as he passed the farm house, and continued on.
PostPosted: Tue Jun 23, 2009 7:38 am


"One more toll, and i'ma put a round in some limey's head, I swear."

Late evening the following day. The M25. The sixth ring of HELL that circled London, and its obscene amount of toll points, a crazed demon whipping at his back to descend faster into madness. Not to mention, the snail pass combined with the old ute he was in that had a penchant for stalling out every so often under the circumstances.

Finely, some movement, and the Gael with his left hand resting on the wheel, right elbow braced on the open window with his cheek pressed against his knuckles seemed to perk up some, brows raising as he saight up abit in hope, though after only a few feet, was forced to slam on the breaks once more before pranging into the car infront of him.

"FOR TEH LOVE OF ST PATRICK!"

He had of course managed by this point to get the attention of the surrounding cars, and windows were rolling up all around him as he cursed fluently in Gaelic, pounding on the horn with his fist.

A few minutes later, the traffic was moving again, this time, he managed to make it nearly ten feet, before the car infront of him, a bug, stopped suddenly. CRASH.... Stall.

fenrir hadn't reacted quick enough and ran up the end of the bug, sending the car engine spiralling into a stall immediately.

Lord knows what the Celt, fluent in Gaelic screamed as he hang out the window of his car at the driver in front of him, shaking his fist like Thor intent on drawing down a bolt of unforgiving lightning, but it was silly to imagine it was flattering. Atleast, thats what the unmarked police car behind him thought. Its occupants rather.

The next thing Fenrir heard, was a thick northern english accent, demanding he get back into his car, as one of the officers approached, the other following after turning the siren lights on.

Glaring over his shoulder, fenrir groaned in extreme disdain for the officers that approached, one half forcing him back in through the window with a hand on the shoulder.

"Sir, this sort of outrageous behaviour is unacceptable."

"That b*****d hit me! I'm pressing charges! CHARGES!"

The second officer called out to the driver of the bug, demanding HE get back into his car and wait just the same.

"CHARGES?! I'LL CHARGE YOU YA RED COAT F UCK!"

"SIR!"

"EIGHT LANES?! What is this pergatory?! I DEMAND PROGRESS! NOW!"

Needless to say the pair of officers were horrified, but mostly stunned, by this raving Irish LUNATIC that ranted like a madman. The innitial officer however quickly turned to a sour, impatient expression as he took a step back and roared.

"You want progress? Fine. Get out of the car Sir. NOW."

Fenrir's eye lid started to twitch as he stared at the officer, hands tightening around the wheel as he offered the man an 'Are you f ucking serious?!' glare.

"NOW!"

The officers hand reached for his sidearm, and instictively, Fenrir's left hand did the same, even though it was hidden under his jacket. Inwardly at that very instant though, the Gael SLAPPED himself, knowing full well what to expect next.

The officer's eyes grew wide as he saw Fenrir's hand motion, and he hastily drew his pistol, aiming it at the Gael without a second thought as he called out.

"He's armed! Hands outside the window where I can see them! NOW!"

"Alright, alright settle down Union Jack."

Fenrir would comment with a spiteful tone as he brought his hands out the window, and settled his palms on the door. Or atleast until the officer took a single step forward. His hand slid to the latch and lifted as he fel backwards, kicking the door open to hit the officer's wrists, fracturing one in the process as a single gunshot rang out, round barely passing over Fenrir's brow before passing through the passenger door, and embedding in the driver's side door of the next car over.

Flaring in anger and agony the police man dropped his pistol and backed up into the car behind him as the second officer ran up to try and take a shot. As he came to the open door though and took aim, the Gael wasn't there.

The puzzled look wasn't to last, as the click of a revolver hammer was heard, and the officer looked up, and over his shoulder to see Fenrir standing in the tray of his ute, duffle draped over his left shoulder, Colt Anaconda levelled on the officer.

"Gun. Down.... Now Jack."

The officer would comply, holding his hands up over his head as his injured comrade nursed the fractured joint, wincing through a vicious glare.

"Simon saaaays..... DUCK!"

He then flicked the revolver in the direction of the bug, firing a single 45. round through the rear window into the center console of the trashy car, both officers hitting the deck at the sudden insanity, only to find the madman had absconded with himself, or at least that was the innitial assumption, before they rose back to their feet, and looked up the road.

Fenrir, running over the tops of cars in a very Captain Jack Sparrow-esque display of high knees and a flailing right arm, revolver still in hand.

"What the..."

The uninjured officr would pick up his weapon and fire a single shot before his partner brought up the very valid point regarding the actions stupidity, and the pair rushed back to their car to hit the radio.

Oh, to visit England. The madness had only just begun.

Fenrir Blazeheart


Fenrir Blazeheart

PostPosted: Tue Jun 23, 2009 8:51 am


"TWO?! WHY IN THE NAME OF GOD ARE THERE TWO ROUNDABOUTS?!"

The Gael had managed to get away from the M25, only to come off the M4 at twin bridges, the bike he had kicked some poor b*****d off being swallowed by the horrors of the double roundabout, as the sirens could be heard wailing all around, police trying to worm their own way through the traffic to reach the last known location, or the psychotic Irishman.

Round and round and round he went, once even getting into the second roundabout, only to be fed back into the first in an '8' pattern. Finally, Fenrir just turned the throttle and whipped through in as close to a straight line as possible, leaving in his wake, a much more stationary, and smokey scene.

Glancing back over his shoulder at the carnage, Fenrir threw behind him a middle finger salute, cackling in satisfaction. Until another bike appeared infront of him from a side street. Slamming on the brakes Fenrir skidded up to collide with the other bike, his body being hurled into the rear window of a car, his duffle thankfully taking the most of the impact.

Rolling off the back of the car with an irrate groan, the mad Gael would slowly rise to his feet as bystanders started to move in, curious as to how both riders came out of the crash. Shaking his head with a stumble though, it only took the sound of sirens approaching from the roundabout to put some fire at the Irishman's heels, as he legged it up the road.

Before long, as sirens and police started hitting the streets, Fenrir found himself staggering in through the doors to a pub, the sign out front reading 'red lion'.

Inside, Fenrir took a moment to catch his breath as a pair of police cars rolled on by out front. Falling to brace his hands on his knees, head hung, the cursing would continue amidst the sounds of a football match, either on tv, or radio, he hadn't a clue.

"Goddamn redcoat limey snots, roads plotted by the devil, and people uglier than the p***k ta boot."

"Ahem"

Fenrir would catch himself in a still pause, taking a moment before lifting his head, slowly, to find himself looking up at a group of englishmen, each uglier, and rounder than the last, and all counted, wearing Manchester united jerseys.

"OHhhhh, hey lads. Game on? How are those Manchester kids doing?"

The large balding 'gent' in the middle of the group, diretly infront of Fenrir would c**k a brow, before grumbling in response.

"Manchester uNITED, you paddy F UCK!"

Followed immediately, by a headbutt, and a hail of bottles from the others, as Fenrir's back hit the doors, a group in the back standing up, one breaking a bottle on the table edge.

"What was that you English pig!"

Irishmen, of course. And none too pleased with the comments and assault taking place, as they then bum rushed the offending Manchester followers, the brawl falling out the front doors onto the footpath, Fenrir included.

Amidst the hollering and disparaging comments, Fenrir would climb out from under the brawl, only to meet the eyes of the injured officer from earlier, now in a different car with other officers on the street.

"THATS HIM!"

"Fer FU CK sake!"

As guns were drawn, officers getting out of the car, Fenrir would rush across the street through the traffic for cover, and then narrowly avoid being tackled by one of the officers as he flogged it up the street.

Running on air as the police followed, not opening fire due to the amount of bystanders present, Fenrir came to a stumbling halt, looking left then right before rushing in to a McDonalds. Vaulting the counter, the Gael turned and picked up a tray on the counter with an assortment of burgers, fries and drinks on it, hoiking it at the door behind him as the police came through. What a mess.

Ducking out the back, Fenrir would then continue up the street. Another car pulled up ahead of him though, guns drawn to leave the Celt one available option. He would throw himself through one of the front windows of a Gamestation store, rolling to his feet before continueing into the store, taking cover behind the counter.

"Tenacious bastards, i'll give 'em that much."

Police gathered at the front of the store, calling over the radio for back up as one called into the store.

"Give up! Throw out your gun, and come out with your hands in clear sight! You can't escape?"

"GUNS!"

"What?!"

"PLURAL!"

At that, Fenrir stood suddenly, both revolvers drawn as he fired a single shot from each gun, double knee capping the unintelligent gitt standing in clear sight without cover, before dropping back behind the counter, fire being returned.

The gunfire was unrelenting, and as shrapnel filled the air around him, Fenrir would exchange one of the rounds in both revolvers. Fenrir then reached for the first thing available to him under the counter. Some odd toy gold monstrousity of a gun with an attached chainsaw. He would hurl the silly thing over his shoulder, and in turn the counter.

As gun fire, and puzzlment was drawn to the Gears of war toy sailing through the air, Fenrir flew to his feet once more, revolvers levelled on the ground at either side of the door. At their feet, and fire. as the rounds hit the floor, and the Gael closed his eyes, two blinding sources of light exploded to envelope the officers, sending some of them cursing to their feet, one even backing up and falling over the gutter as their sight was temporarily stolen from them.

Opening his eyes, he looked the scene over quickly, a smirk at his lips, replaced a moment later by intrigue, as he picked up a pair of aviator sunnies, apparently forgotten behind the counter by someone.

"No' bad...."

Chuckling, rather pleased with himself as he dropped the sunnies into his jacket pocket, Fenrir would roll over the conter and jog to the shattered window he had come in through, taking a moment to pick up the GoW toy, and wrap it around the head of the injured officer from the M25. He'd then, as the police roared in protest totheir inability to see, along with a large number of bystanders, start an olympic standard sprint up the street, managing to vanish into the nightlife and backstreets before reinforcements had arrived.
PostPosted: Wed Jun 24, 2009 2:12 am


OOC::

Now this, may be VERY wrong, but I had a google about it, lemme know if I'm wrong and i'll edit, Roan.You mention its a town hall, and the only town hall that came up for Berkshire was the Reading townhall, now i'm just having a stab. Gonna suck if i'm wrong. xD

_____________________________

So terribly early in the morning in Reading, as Fenrir mixed with an endless sea of drones heading to work, he had been up all night trying to stay under the radar and get here from Bracknell. Walking up Queen Victoria street towards Friar street, the Gael took the time to stop at a small cafe, spending the last of the money he had exchanged before the flight on a brekky roll.

He wanted to. Needed to sit down, but he couldn't just yet, he was so close, atleast thats what he gathered from the person that served him. So onward he went, rounding the corner to stroll down Friar Street and crossing over, passing Wiston Terrace before reaching the next corner, his breakfast finished by this point, he dropped the papers in a bin, as he stared across Blagrave street at the town hall, so many office workers marching in to start the day already. Smirking, Fenrir would tilt his head back and turn, to regard the building opposite the town hall on the corner, shieling his eyes from the sun light as he peered up at the top floor.

"brats are probably packing, ready for the next shift."

And with that the Gael would adjust the duffle thrown over his shoulder, and cross the street, walking by the front entrance to the building. As he passed the main entrance by though, he appeared to limp, whilst counting his limped steps to himself, before crossing the street once more to enter the building, heading for the top floor.

As the elevator doors pinged, the Irishman first saw an abandondedoffice space, though clean as it may have been, there was no one there, until he headed for the sectioned off offices to the east face of the structure. Opening the door, Fenrir was immediately greeted with a chorus of cheers, as a small group of five men, each dressed in casual suits jumped him, bringing him down to the floor in a mock beating.

"Get off'a him you pack of dogs!"

The group would stand, one helping a smirking Fenrir to his feet, and his eyes would fall on a sixth man, sat in an office chair, utterly pissed as the tv behind him showed the news reports of Fenrir's spree through London.

"Dogs?.. Only the finest, aye lads?"

"DIRE WOLVES!"

Fenrir only tilted his head slightly and smirked at the fourty or so year old man in the chair leering at him, as his old team members chanted the old unit monocore. Finally, the elder of the group cracked a smirk and a chuckle, before standing and meeting Fenrir half way with a brotherly shake of the hand.

"Its good to see you again old fella, but could you have caused a BIGGER racket? We're COVERT, you dumb s**t."

Fenrir would laugh briefly, as he moved to the now unoccupied seat and fell in with a heavy sight.

"Keepin' mah seat warm for me, Liam? You've managed to get pretty comfortable in the role aye?"

Folding his arms in amusment as one of the other Irishman tossed Fenrir a can of beer from the fridge nestled in the corner of the room, Liam shook his head with a grunt.

"Well someone had to pick up after you left and lead this pack of mongrels."

Cracking the beer and skolling the entire contents in a matter of seconds, before tossing it back at the twenty something year old that gave it to him in good humour, Fenrir would turn in the chair to look out the heavily tinted window behind the tv, across the street down at the town hall.

"Aye, and by the looks of it you've done a fine job. They aren't an easy horde to control. YOU were the worst of them though. Now you're the Alpha dog."

"Rubbish, you're still the boss Captain-I know I know. 'We dont exist blah blah."

Fenrir glanced over his shoulder with a chuckle.

"Then why'd you say it?... What time are you relieved? And who is the next team?"

Liam rolled his eyes and neck with a groan, before raising his right hand to scratch at his temple idly.

"Seamus' team, Talon force. They're due to relieve us in about an two hours."

Fenrir visibly soured at the mention of the other team, almost expected to turn his head and spit at the names.

"Seamus? How'd HE get this detail? I'll have to wait till tonight then to go in, when you lot are ba-"

Fenrir paused, as he watched the various members of the team gathering their coats and bags, one handing Liam his before heading out towards the elevator. His eyes then skipped back to Liam.

"Dont ask, dont tell, right?"

And with that, Liam turned, and met his team at the elevator, the entire group leaving the building the full two hours early.

"Good kids..."

And with that, Fenrir would drop his duffle on the table faceing the south wall, pulling out his camo jacket, black canvas trousers and other assorted equipment, including his katanas.

Before long, Fenrir was sat back down infront of the window between a pair of different cameras on tripods with telescopic lenses, his tail free after being tapped to his leg inside his pants since getting on the plane, beer in hand.

"Alright... I've got an hour and a fourty five minutes..."

And so Fenrir would head for the stairs, heading up to the rooftop. On the way up, he pulled a dark crimson face plate of steel out of his jacket pocket, molded to resemble a visios, lipless maw of sharpened teeth and fix it to the lower half of his face, covering the bridge of his nose, and under his eyes down to the jawline. He then before zipping up his jacket took a pair of flash bang grenades out of his utility vest and stuffed both his hands in his pockets, a flash bang concieled in either jacket pocket.

Holsters on his hips and the old 9mm pistol strapped to his right thigh, katanas crossed over his rear above the red tail, fenrir would approach the roofs edge and leer down at the pair of men stationed at the main entrance of the target building with a groan. Ghouls no doubt. Well, he wasn't going to get in through the front. Not the front door atleast.

Sighing, Fenrir would start walking back across the rooftop, counting his every step as he did, before about facing, and with a much more focused expression, glare at the edge of the roof, hands sliding out from his pockets, thumbs flicking to snap the safety off both grenades as he suddenly broke off the line in a sprint.

Before reaching the roofs edge, Fenrir would hoik both grenades, the one from the right hand being thrown down the corner of Blagrave and Friar, the other further up Blagrave street. Fenrir would then, aided by a massive boost of air supplied by the Jotnar praise, leap off the edge of the building.

As the Gael flew over the street below, tucking his arms and legs in, the grenade thrown to the right bounced off a car windscreen to then explode, the car swerving wildly onto the footpath before crashing into a tree, and in unisen with the first, the second grenade flash bang would go off near the traffic island up the street. Both causing an outrageous, deafening sound combined with blinding flashes to stun the office drones that crowded the area. Almost perfect timed with the explosions though, Fenrir like a human cannon ball would crash through a third floor window, hitting the floor in a tucked roll to turn someone in their office chair over and crash into the their desk. A diversion, something to distract the front door attendants and anyone else on the ground floor from the smashing window upstairs.

Now however, Fenrir had the staff in the third floor gathering to see exactly WHAT had happened. As they did however, and before anyone could get a good look at him, he popped a smoke bomb, and under cover of the rapidly expanding smoke, vanished into the stair case, heading for the CCTV room known to him thanks to the blue prints. The buildings entirety was of course not shown in the city records blue prints, but the building for show as a front was. Part of the materials in the folder he had with him when Roan identified Raoul.

Upon reaching the CCTV room, it wasn't hard for the Irishman to disengage the lock with a single revolver shot, the sound drowned out mostly by the sound of the emergency evacuation going on.

Pushing the door open with a pair of Colt Anacondas, Fenrir would tend to the security guards inside. If they were human, he knee capped them, before then knocking them unconcious. If they were Ghouls, he double tapped the hearts with standard 45. rounds, before then following up with head shots. Their shouldn't have been any more than two in their, that much he was fairly sure of.

Regardless, with the guards taken care of, Fenrir would toss the seats aside and lean over the desk/console, eyes scanning the monitors as the building evacuated, for Raoul, or the man he truely hunted, should he show himself. He however doubted he would see THAT creature, or rather, recognise him, given his suspicions that the form known to him was a false.

And so the Irishman anxiously waited for Raoul to show himself, ready to cut off his evacuation of the building at any given moment, via an already prepared trick.

Fenrir Blazeheart


Roan DeSeer
Captain

Enduring Vampire

PostPosted: Wed Jun 24, 2009 7:45 am


*Raoul did NOT emerge from the building. When the attack was launched, it was the civvies who paniced, hurling themselves away from the impacts in the usual chaos that went with a totally unexpected and unprovoked attack in the middle of a city.

Ghouls herded everyone INTO the building, as the attack was OUTSIDE, and flushed them out through the graveyard into the park beyond using the backdoor.
Two went to investigate, talking into shoulder mounted units as police sirens wailed in the near distance*

Cant see an attacker out here...
No hostiles on the ground... just confusion and some minor wounded.
We'll investigate the cause of th....

*The man was cut off as a females voice came over the system*

Unknown male on third floor, repeat! Unknown male on third floor!
Move all VIP's downstairs...

*The street was abandoned, leaving only the perpetual drunks in O'Neil's to watch old Plod arrive and add MORE chaos to the scene.

INside... the ghouls rushed to Raoul's room, down one floor from the ground, and found him calmly signing paperwork*

Sir, we have hostile sin the building you need to get out of here...
And how do you know he is after me? I have a LOT to do gentlemen, bother me when its important...
Sir...

*Raoul looked up and the men froze in their movements. He glanced to teh side at Jane and Justin, his closest aides, then nodded at the door*

Jane, take Justin downstairs with guards and let me know if he freaks out. If I precieve a threat to myself, I will join you, but SOMEONE has to do this paperwork. I suppose its only sensible I make sure you are protected to finish it should I inconventiently perish. Off you go now, run along.

*And just like that, he went back to his work. With a sigh, Jane carried out his orders. Upstairs, a unit of armed ghouls cautiously headed for teh third floor..*
PostPosted: Wed Jun 24, 2009 8:05 am


As precious time would slip by, Fenrir raised his right fist and SLAMMED his fist into the desk, furious at the lack of any such Raoul appearance. He did, however notice the armed units approaching the third floor, and the police showing up out the front.

"Not these pricks again..."

Biting his bottom lip, Fenrir struggled for a moment with the decision, before being forced to make it as officers started to approach the entrance.

"DAMN it!"

Smashing his fist into the desk again, Fenrir snapped his fingers, and moments later, a line of glyphs appeared on the foot path out the front of the Town hall in a vague, easy to miss saphire before ice suddenly appeared to cascade over the front of the building. Several feet thick and solid, the front entrance was cut off.

Next, as the armed units on the third floor spread out more, one approaching the staircase door, Fenrir focused for a moment, before snapping his fingers once again. A line of identical saphire glyphs appeared on the floor showing the Gael's taken path, ending with a single glyph on the surface of the door.

SNAP!

The immediate vacinity of the glyphs was in an instant laced with sturdy spears of arctic ice, like large spikey solid fountains, they presented a rather fatal threat to any of the units within ten feet of any glyph.

With a spiteful growl, Fenrir would sweep his right hand across the central monitors, before exiting the security room, making a B-line down towards the second floor, and if un-interrupted, the ground floor, where he would open the door just enough for a very quick look, and evaluation of the inside of the main entrance.

Fenrir Blazeheart


Roan DeSeer
Captain

Enduring Vampire

PostPosted: Wed Jun 24, 2009 8:13 am


*CHAOS. Complete chaos as ice did the impossible and tore into Reading's beautiful old building... and its less than beautiful residents.

This wasnt Gaia. This was Europa and such breaches showing humanity was NOT alone were NOT tolerated. In moments, a blackout occured - all media went down, the area was cordened off, men in plain grey suits arriving and pouring out of shadows as the quick response Cainite unit moved in to prevent a media sensation.

Fenrir had simply been hostile. Now? Now he was WANTED. Now, he was presumed Sabbat.
The second and ground floors woudl prove to be clear, the entrance behind the ice swarming with the suits as they used DOminate to alter the memories of those who had just SEEN the impossile.

A pathway was opened up for Fenrir - nothing obstructed him on the way to the door into the lower sections of the town hall. And at its end, seated bejind his desk and VERY unimpressed... Raoul waited to see who had DARED to encroach onhis territory and why. This was brazen even for Sabbat.
In his hand, he was already holding a cell phone, and talking into it*

Get me Lady DeSeer. Its Raoul.
PostPosted: Wed Jun 24, 2009 8:24 am


Blood pumping, heart racing, adrenaline over flowing, Fenrir would push through the door to the ground floor and completely ignore the goings on outside. He had expected such a response to this, though it was not going quite to plan. He had innitially hoped that Raoul would be cut off at the entrance, left open to an assault there.

His eyes were already starting to pale, as the Irishman, one revolver drawn started a heavy booted march down towards the back of the building. In the process, he snapped his right fingers again, and seconds later the CCTV room was consumed by a rampant source of electricity as if struck by lightning.

He had no idea how, but he could sense Raoul. Something akin to smelling the Cainite, tasting him even, as he drew his right revolver and pushed the doors open.

There he was. Raoul. The Cainite in the photos. Fenrir would stand meerly a single step inside the office as the doors swung shut behind him again, the colour still slowly slipping away in his eyes.

"Raoul...."

Fenrir Blazeheart


Roan DeSeer
Captain

Enduring Vampire

PostPosted: Wed Jun 24, 2009 8:29 am


Yes, I know that but... hang on....

*Raoul was on the phone still when Fenrir walked in. He looked up at teh Gael, narrowed his eyes, sniffed, then waved a hand dismissively and went back to the phone call*

... forget all that, he just walked in. There's been rumours on the grapevine you're shifting allegiance, DeSeer, am I to take this as proof positive? ..... No... No, thats not enough. HE IS STANDING IN FRONT OF ME. Did you not think I'd KNOW whose been in your company lately with such rumours going on around you? What do you mean you DONT KNOW?

*Raoul growled, sighed and covered the bottom of the phone*

She tells me you arent Sabbat, but you're also not here to play nice. She wont tell me anymore. Do you want to talk abotu whateve rthe hell is going on like rational beings and cut the lunatic female out, or do you have ten minutes while I verbally beat it out of her? Do sit down, there;s cigars in the box on the right hand side, whiskey on the shelf to your left.

*Not really the actions of someone in fear of their life, especially with Roan;s higher pithced voice still screaming obscentites - mostly aimed at Fenrir - out of the half covered phone in his hand*
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