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This page conserves the character fiction forum of the Agora forums. The posts have been left unformatted to make it easier for users to copy them here and paste them into the new forums.

Oren Itanooren12/10/08 18:25View
Missy12/10/08 22:22View
The backstory of Vulpes.Vulpes12/11/08 01:46View
Erica KesselErica Kessel12/11/08 07:52View
Missy's Story.. a Do-over and another ChapterMissy12/11/08 22:38View
UsrBinPerl12/11/08 23:48View
oren12/11/08 23:57View
Kwekwe's BackstoryKwekwe Karu12/12/08 01:02View
UsrBinPerl12/13/08 00:35View
Eternal SunsetMissy12/13/08 12:19View
Kit Ristow12/14/08 00:01View
ShyMathys12/14/08 00:27View
MasksAlissa12/14/08 00:58View
Lorae12/14/08 01:24View
UsrBinPerl12/14/08 22:07View
Missy's Story Continued..Part 3Missy12/16/08 08:43View
Missy's Story Part 4: Innocence ShatteredMissy12/16/08 18:34View
Missy's Story Part 5: Innocence AnnihilatedMissy12/18/08 17:16View
Small DangersVox12/18/08 21:36View
Saint of The Abyss: Part 1Luciferiel12/19/08 05:21View
Zero....-1Justa Zero12/19/08 17:38View
Zero....1Justa Zero12/19/08 18:26View
Óðr’s Daughter. Chapter I: A Guiding DreamAsil Karu12/20/08 02:39View
Omega To Alphaerinnic12/23/08 16:49View
Her Bloody Tears [-Past Event-]Methias12/23/08 18:09View
Lost Kitsune - A Shattered MindKiera12/25/08 18:51View
Usr's story Part IVUsrBinPerl12/27/08 20:34View
The EssexHeir Maelstrom12/29/08 04:23View
Kwekwe's shameKwekwe Karu12/30/08 18:11View
Joint Round Robin Fic Anyone...?erinnic12/30/08 19:07View
God Was On Her Lips As She Diederinnic01/02/09 23:31View
Love and Betrayal - A New Beginningkessjuliesse01/03/09 13:46View
The Diary of Cody Woodhencodywoodhen01/05/09 21:35View
Missy's Story Part 6: Innocence AbductedMissy01/07/09 06:23View
Cursed BladeYannis_Martynov01/08/09 21:27View
Story Thread: Community Round Robin Ficerinnic01/09/09 23:25View
The demon withinCanly Fargis01/11/09 16:14View
Ziau- CoLA's Very Own CasanovaZiau01/13/09 02:09View
Twisted Attentionserinnic01/21/09 20:34View
Inspiration- music and roleplayZiau01/26/09 08:01View
Compilation! Where were you when it all happened?Ziau01/28/09 09:12View
The Clock Struck MidnightMalice Ashdene01/28/09 22:31View
With Precision- a poem by Kelly Welch A.k.A Ziau Jua.Ziau01/29/09 04:36View
Alisa's dicovery of a new world (character sheet + story)Alisa Draconia01/30/09 19:17View
The Shadow Stepper- Ziau the Enshadowed.Ziau02/01/09 07:26View
Krista Lemon arrives to the streets of Lost AngelsKrista02/03/09 00:09View
Back Story Upto the Excile of Rune.RuneCrimson02/03/09 21:59View
War with the Brood, war with the Coven, and the Pack.Ziau02/07/09 04:11View
-- Halcyon's Backstory --Halcyon Nacht02/08/09 00:22View
Planer/Exonar family (aka, Erinyse, Khalan, Viridian, Cummere, Selena)Cummere Mayo02/08/09 03:53View
Kit's BackstoryKit Ristow02/10/09 18:40View
Eyes in the DarkKeyla02/11/09 09:47View
Surfacing Part ILlyr02/13/09 22:21View
Surfacing Part IILlyr02/13/09 22:35View
Tama-Chan: A Cat's Story (Tamara's background)Tamara02/17/09 07:35View
Project: A map of Post Apocalypse North AmericaTamara02/17/09 19:21View
Dreamtime RevelationsWinter02/19/09 18:08View
Reaver-the echo of the BlackwindAntiZero02/23/09 00:43View
On the Origin of SpeciesTamara02/25/09 22:38View
ConfessionKit Ristow02/26/09 01:39View
Personnel File: Pointe, Zsuzsanna C. (Inactive, Deceased)Su Pointe02/26/09 03:32View
Malice, in a Different Kind of WonderlandMalice Ashdene02/27/09 18:07View
The Dark of InspirationKit Ristow03/01/09 21:42View
Jheric: CrucifiedKayle Ashdene03/03/09 10:53View
It's my lifearsene_Braveheart03/05/09 18:18View
The Tradgedy of the HybridDigital Enigma03/29/09 07:09View
The Sin of Wrathmolly switchblade04/02/09 21:28View
Golden BoyEphran Ehrler04/15/09 06:12View
Story About A GirlAesendria04/24/09 15:34View
Climaxe by Smith and WessonSloan04/28/09 06:19View
My new project ATTENTION Russian Characters!Ziau05/01/09 06:42View
**NSFW** A Typical Tuesday Night for MissyMissy05/06/09 20:48View
Post your profile links!Cortero Landar05/07/09 10:25View
Making Logan SufferAesendria05/12/09 07:09View
Jeanne VarunJeanne Varun05/14/09 08:24View
The Vanguard's True PurposeLogan05/16/09 01:03View
Cortero's Infernal ArmorCortero Landar05/16/09 06:52View
Bookstore SurpriseAesendria05/16/09 23:16View
Post your profile links if you have in-story info in them!Cortero Landar05/18/09 10:33View
PromisesAesendria05/24/09 02:44View
Cyber Evolution Bios, Anur Seda, Cyber Reaper, and Commander of CETheassassin06/08/09 11:28View
Was any of it real?Youko_Giha06/12/09 15:28View
A shift in prioritiesLogan06/17/09 04:21View
Going homeLudvig06/17/09 19:10View
'Ren in Japanoren06/18/09 23:11View
Thelma across the boardThelemaJuliesse06/26/09 15:09View
Pre-fiction: How Kayteear got here.Kayteear07/15/09 16:43View
Story TimeCharissa07/17/09 19:03View
Pack Airship RP.Tai07/27/09 02:49View
My CharacterLilith1308/05/09 22:34View
LilithLilith1308/06/09 09:30View
The Haunter in the DarkShadow08/14/09 21:50View
The Flying HeadsKwekwe Karu08/16/09 16:52View
Why selling coffins is impossible in CoLAZiau08/23/09 04:14View
Paint it red!Ziau08/23/09 07:51View
Young Cowards.Ziau08/23/09 08:28View
Great video for RPers and people passionate about writing.Ziau09/05/09 08:55View
Dux - 264 BCDux09/10/09 18:41View
The Thing at South Gate SanitariumShadow09/15/09 22:09View
♪♫ Do you wanna RP my avatar ♪♫Kayteear09/17/09 14:45View
Jessica's MotherJessica Susser09/21/09 04:19View
Ziau Challenged me to. NSFWChasityDawes09/21/09 07:17View
The Divine Machine.................Theassassin09/21/09 22:29View
I Bleed my Blood for Myself.Ziau09/22/09 22:28View
Cronicle of a deathKayteear09/24/09 01:34View
"Please Allow Me to Introduce Myself"DavidJoshua Artful09/26/09 17:07View
Old Versus NewDigital Enigma09/27/09 20:28View
The Shadowed Order, The Eternal Order, Ordo MachinaTheassassin10/06/09 06:55View
Elamyrath's HistoryElamyrath10/10/09 00:52View
The here, the now, the dead. The Minus.TheMinus Ziskey10/10/09 12:41View
Before bed ritual.Amy Guisse10/17/09 04:13View
Alone?Ike10/18/09 15:34View
IS this High School again?Theassassin10/24/09 12:49View
Sidhe vs DrowOrlok Lectar10/29/09 04:08View
Daddy bluesarsene_Braveheart11/17/09 19:01View
Chronicles of SIEagentlyseria11/22/09 12:27View
The Lady In Black(A Drokan Exile Twisted Love Story)AntiZero11/29/09 06:36View
The growing Darkness.Leirain Koray12/01/09 11:04View
The lycanKayteear12/01/09 16:00View
City of Lost Jackman: The Untold Hollywood BlockbusterAntiZero12/02/09 07:11View
Coming home for christmas ..Kes12/10/09 22:17View
Bunneh Vs. Lich, DBZ styleKarsha Yutani12/14/09 11:59View
A FarewellRoland12/16/09 20:50View
Of Death and RebirthDigital Enigma12/21/09 20:14View
The Story of ReocoReoko Farspire02/06/10 20:47View
Homecoming......... The Story of Orpheus DarkfoldOrpheusDarkfold03/11/10 02:27View
The Story of Orpheus Part 2OrpheusDarkfold03/13/10 23:15View
Who owns who?Kayteear03/22/10 22:03View
Missing the Oceanricercar03/23/10 22:27View
Letter to the editor: Manners in LATink03/25/10 16:58View
Chasity BackstoryChasityDawes06/14/10 19:43View
Something Black and Violent...DavidJoshua Artful06/19/10 22:23View
Doctor Visiterinnic07/12/10 04:26View
Gabby Perdidevacantghost07/19/10 04:42View

My heart beat stumbles and
My back bone crumbles
I feel is it real as
The lynch mob doubles?

They want blood and they'll kill for it,
Drain me and they'll kneel for it
Burn me at the stake met
The devil made the deal for it.

Guillotine dreams, yeah,
They’re guillotine gleams,
The blood of their enemies
Watching while they sense me.

Sentencing ceased, sentence
Diseased and watch them bask
In the glory of their holy disease

Johnny 3 Tears, -Sell Your Soul by Hollywood Undead-


This war, mortal enemies of the Earth and the fires of Hell, this bloodshed. You wish it would never had started- yet the warriors of either side wish no end, they just want to prevail. You see them lick their chops, fold back their wings, and roar at the full moon in pure lust for victory. This was war alright, alliances made on either end of the chalk like- with that- this is where we will know, war took it's toll.

The crimson puddle, droplets following from it's outline to the carcass pile- a place for the dead, either side, they were all nameless and faceless. They were the fortunate, they got out of the fighting before anyone else- and they reinforced whichever side they had been playing on all along. Yet, when you see a pile of corpses so high- you can only help but think- how many more layers until me?

Wondrous amount of effort from either side, but the bloodshed was for the only cause probable- when you pick your side, do remember- the bloodshed is real. Wether it be a sword to the shoulder or gut- a claw mark to the face- or simply a bullet to the thigh, you will bleed- you will feel this war for what it's worth. Ravaged streets, broken skies, and worn down buildings too old to be inhabited- but too new to be a ruin. This was their warzone- this was my warzone- this was Ziau's warzone.


The ground, how it rumbled as the mighty army of Hell marched. These were the demons that survived, the veterans, Charissa's personal guard. Each of them knew no fear, each of them wore armor that was composed of bone- bones of the enemies they slew. Each of them feasted on sinew and artery, and each of them were loyal to the death. An army of five hundred strong, the most powerful, most sinister, and by far the most dangerous military force on the Earth- and it marched at her command. The Brood Queen waited overhead- her throne being carried upon the backs of two seven headed beasts, ten horns each, sharp and ready to tear flesh.

They marched ruthlessly through the land- marching home- ready to come back to their city, to Charissa's city- the City of Lost Angels. Her stay within her own kingdom left the city fresh, unknowing, a whole new crowd yet to understand just how powerful a single entity could be. And along side her marched her most trusted and power of council- faces shrouded in mask, bodies cloaked and invisible to the naked eye.

The sky bled, shed tear after metaphorical tear, Charissa's army was on the move- and the evil light that resonated from their fiery eyes lit up the horizon to an onlooker- this,.. this is where Ziau caught first glimpse. He had heard it first- the soundless mouths but the conversation starting feet that crumbled the ground beneath every step. The barks and snarls from each of Charissa's beasts- and finally their cries. The cries of the damned, being stripped from the surreal limestone tombs of ghostly service- being devoured by the shining blade at the Arch Demoness' hip- crying for everything their afterlife was worth.

He saw them then, lumbering over the horizon- pouring from the San Andreas fault and moving quickly towards the city through countless miles of wasteland- ready to take it back with a single swipe of her arm- and yes, that's when the wolf layed his colorblind eyes on Charissa herself- atop her beasts, so tempting to human eye- yet so tainted and overbearing to a demon's. Her chest- more than busty- her eyes, alight and fiery- long smooth legs tinted red with flecks of apricot- yet,.. through her distinct features- the most noticeable of all was her crown of horns. Each one curled and ending in the sharpest point a bone could make untouched by a file or blade- they were perfect horns- for a perfect Queen.

Ziau lacked knowledge- but she was merely half- only one of the Queens, yet the most known, the oldest, and the most feared. Ziau didn't know from the other direction, many more miles behind him coming to take the other end of the ocean of ruined buildings- marched the Queen's love and other half- just as powerful as Charissa. He did however turn tail, sprint back towards Lost Angels- he would need all he could muster, every dog- pigeon- cat- and lizard, yes- as well as wolf- to prepare, this was going to be war.

For a day he ran- through a sunup and a sundown, as his paws cracked the dry earth- as his skin soaked radiation and his eyes burned from the never ending sun- the same sun that was never up in town- the same sun he thrived off of- he ran. He was a Lycanthrope, Werewolf, Garou to be exact and technical. His body- trim- lean, his arms muscular yet wiry in their own way, his paws human hands half gloved and his hair a mop of blonde that was constantly died black. He was a headstrong wolf- anyone that had met Ziau, they surely would know him by his distinct giveaways. He had a cocky- nasally tone- he had a scratchy voice, tinged lightly with his Russian heritage. His Rs and Ls were so imperfect by American standards- but he pronounced every word to his own perfection- when he got going concentrated, he was as unintelligible as a Rastafarian.

He would sweat- he would hurt, his back a canvas of his past, a hammer and sickle inked into his epidermal- and his rosy tan outline becoming a bit sunburned. But when he crossed into the outer ring of Lost Angels- he was in a huff, a hurry, a panic. The den was a good set of clicks away, being a large tin box of a warehouse- a rather shitty one if you asked him. His front paws met his back as he bolted, his body shifted and made to look like half man- half wolf. His pointed ears perked and alert- his tail trailing high behind himself- this was a mission to return home- alert the Pack, no obstacle could stop him.

Dauntingly enough, a roadblock would appear, the Coven- thick- armed- angry. "Wolf!" the first of the group would call out, his sword drawn- his hair long and a bright Irish red- his name was Markus. Markus stood tall, his shoulders broad, his garbs were a plaid kilt and a robe of ruby studded black cloth. He was a man of seeming earldom- a powerful Gangrel shape shifter- and a force to be reckoned with. Ziau had nothing in reaction but to skip to a stop, his backbone straightening- his body contorting back to a full human shape- save for his tail and ears- and of course- his eyes. He locked those vermilion feral swirled occuli on Markus and snorted, "Move!"

The Coven- the undead- all vampires under the control of their Marquise- French inspired family values- and a long history with this city. It was said their Reagent herself formed the city with her bare hands- and that this clan of vampires was unstoppable, untouchable, immortal. Markus stepped forward- a long sword shaped for his arm, weighted, he was a better swordsman than many, Markus, and Ziau knew full well through interaction he was to keep his ground, to be respectful- and to be right to the point.

Sweat trailed down his skull's side, kissing his tattooed collarbones, and running down his front- still burnt by the sun that refused to shine in this city- fabled to be the work of a vampire of great power- unending control over the sky itself. They locked gaze, the shadow below Ziau's feet flickering as if a candle had been passed across it- fading in and out with the darkness around them. They stared for a long set of sixty- three to be exact, four vampires of names Ziau did not know- most likely dolls to Markus' dominance, they stood around him like that of his personal guard.

"What makes you think- mutt- I will move for you?" He says this, cold, confident- and unbearably snide for Ziau's taste. Ziau simply replies, "There is an emergency- this entire city is in danger- you need to move, for Hell's army approaches." He was in no mood for tricks and lies- he was in no stance to force him away- yet- he longed to end them all with a throb of his powerful rage.

Laughter- a splash of amusement and a little echo as the four pale females- all dressed like Victorian princesses laughed with him. "That is good- because now, you will get what you receive." Ziau expected this to be a breaking point, the start of a brawl- blood to spill, bones to crack, and life to end. No- not this time, Markus simply bowed and moved aside, an elegant sweep of is arm showing Ziau he could pass. The orangish red locks fell in his face, covered the wicked smile he had- that smile with more purpose than anyone at that time could understand. "I am glad you understand- " The wolf quickly huffed and he took off down the street- dead set on making it to the Den.

That was the last he would see Markus without blood being spilled- that was the last he would remain uneducated on what the world was hungering for around them- and the skyline cracked and screamed above the Den- as it was ablaze, Pack corpses strewn in the street before the future refuse. Ziau sputtered once and cried out, "Wh-what!?" And he tromped up to the scene, there in a heap was a couple of newer wolves- a family he had only met once, both dead of punctures the sides of their necks. He then understood- Markus,.. Markus had set the Den on fire- burned it- and killed the families that used it as a home- unarmed and less powerful of the wolves in their Pack. Ziau would find Markus a coward- Markus would find every dog equal- and with honor he destroyed their home.

Not one face was seen- not a shadow- it was empty, yet the sound of Markus' harem buzzed in his skull and with that Ziau turned his nose up and followed scents. His Pack was close- their paws had tread the street within the hour- Alpha included, a smaller force of forty or so- and this at least built up a tense knot of hope in Ziau's chest. He snorted, they must have fled for the suburbs.

Along the short distance to Aracadia, there was no opposition, but he could smell fresh blood- the muzzle resin from guns, and pale undead epidermal. There had been battle- or there was a battle nearby, this,.. this made that knot loosen and untie. This made Ziau sink into worry and he padded softer, moving twoards the uprising of rock through the building line- the bunker. The sound- the sound followed the scent, it was fighting- gunfire- bloodshed, and steel on steel as swords clashed.

In this time, 2039, swords were an oddly effective weapon. Bullets refused to break the thicker skulls of the undead- the shape shifters- and the forces of Heaven and Hell. Yet, in these times, the best way to end a foe was a sharp blade- cleave them from head to toe. As he approached- swords were the giveaway, when they were drawn- it was for more than flourish, it was for battle. He saw a mass of vampires, Coven fighters, led in droves- groups of ten at a time, a hundred thick. Gensa- a thin little model bodied blonde vampire led the front line, a wand in her had- spells of great witchcraft being slung into the mass of fur and blood. Shyann- the Marquise- tall and figured like the fantasies of most mortal men. Oren, a tiny Asian vampire, sinister, straight to the point with long straight black hair- fighting with trained akido swordsmanship. And finally Vice- Shyann's husband, their child's father- a demon with a laid back attitude yet a temper that could strip down the best of soldier's will.

This four piece of leadership stood amongst their warriors- dressed for ballroom dancing- fighting with blade and witchcraft alike, they were facing up against the Pack, the Pack which lacked number- but withheld force- rank- and overbearing morale. Ziau looked among the scene if only briefly, before he snorted and drew his commercialized blade- a sword that was frequently used- unweighted or measured, but a tool for killing none the less. He snarled and ran headfirst into the fray- fighting for his family as they desperately grabbed for life in the shambles of the Lost Angels suburbs.

Ziau had not seen first blood- but among the thick clashing mass of bodies he saw the Beta of the Pack, Taien, the Lycat- the most respected of people in Ziau's eyes aside from his wife and Nasreen. He was a gorgeous man- modeled like Shyann and Charissa- perfect to a mortal's taste- yet all Lycans were perfect by ailment, their bodies forcing it so. He wielded a katana- one of the only in the Pack that was better with a sword than claw or tooth- he was elegant and a figurehead for them, and he is whom Ziau headed to aide. Taien stood taller than Ziau- black hair- deep eyes that told tales of love as well as prosper - yet they only looked across battlefields and strife- Taien was powerful- and where he walked people bowed. He wore a long black trenchcoat- and he moved as fast as the wind, elegantly as a feather falling from the heavens above- and killed with the skill of a veteran wolf.

Ziau fought through a wave or two of vampire blade and bite- his sword taking the head of only one- but his shoulder bashing into more than ten, pushing them back and into the fray- only to be absorbed with the shuffling and the snarling. He found Taien surrounded by more leeches than a normal wolf could handle- fiercely fending them off from every end of his peripherals and then some. He wound spin and parry, only to stay offensive and make them back into a defensive stances around him. As a few would make mistakes- he would keenly take a wrist, an eye, or maybe a knee with his blade- only to step back and cover his sides.

With a quick huff the wolf tore down a Coven soldier dishonorably- in the back to pad forward and cover Taicat's rear, speaking briskly. "What is this madness- how did this start?" A bat stepped forward and was blocked by the man in the coat- backed into Ziau. This man, Taien- replied, yet briefly, "They marched on us with no warning- two forces, this army and the other half of them that took the Den by force. Macca said he didn't have the slightest clue where the other force was going- but they were led by lower ranks, marched right out of the city altogether." It was a lot of information to speak while concentrating on battle- a blood spray splashed across Ziau's face, Taien had cleaved an enemy in half and kicked is bottom half from under him- only to step back and keep the circle of defense moving.

"Taien- the Brood,.. they have been so absent- we thought them gone-" He had to stop, a boulder being hurled over them and crashing down only a foot or two from Ziau. There was the crunch of bone and the whine of wolf and vampire alike as Shyann began to rain rocks from the bunker's mountain above- her eyes aglow and both of her wands raised. They lost the thought- all of it- they had business to handle, a battle to fight- and with that, Taien rushed off into the thick to end the rock shower. The wolf clicked his tongue and spat- crouching down to survey the underside of the fight, and to protect himself from a charging soldier. Ziau brought his shoulder up and into the man's midsection, brutally sending him on his back and then stomping on his throat- a pop of his spinal cord snapping heard faintly over the commotion.

Nasreen- Nasreen was close, he could smell her through this all- the dust- the blood- the steel and the constant firing of SMGs and pistols alike. Ziau scanned it's direction, and looked up- there she was, on top of the bunker with Stormy, leader of the Collective- both of them fending off Coven as they climbed and tried to get them from their safe spot. Nasreen- a shaman- deflected gunfire with a large magical barrier that shone brightly as it was hit and put to use. Stormy wielded a fifty caliber rifle, emptying round after round into heads and chests below. The pair of them- in Ziau's eyes- were far from in trouble.

Stormy was Ziau's bite mother- she stood shorter than he, maroon hair, long and with a pretty face. Stormy would never admit it- she was as old as the society around them itself, but she had her attractiveness- she had her carry and she was a fierce aim with a rifle. Nasreen- she was the typical woman of the city by first glance. Short skirts, button up shirts and big bulky boots for kicking in teeth and treading wastelands- but she had a messy haired bright aura about herself. She was the Den mother- the Alpha of the Pack- and a figurehead to them too- her safety was important, but she refused to be babied. That was what set Nasreen apart from most clan leaders- her sense of independence- she handled things her own- she never subjected Pack to danger- and she sacrificed more than she could ever be repayed for them.

He moved quickly at the bunker, little to no opposition meeting him- but a cascade of bullets rained from the crowd. Oren had her operatives knelt- firing squad style and they fired at the Pack- sending searing silver capped bullets into the soft and vulnerable flesh. Silver was one of the mortal enemies of shape shifters- Lycans- and most of the undead. A tool of holy relic- or a tool of warfare between the forces- Oren was ruthless with her use of silver- firing many king's treasuries of silver at the awaiting wolves. She and her troops fired until they were empty- and then each wielded a silver weapon of some sort- daggers- chains- and for Oren, a balanced silver bladed tachi. It was short- but weighted, and easy for her to control- upon sight of Oren, Ziau was forced to stop his advance and kneel, sizzling- bubbling Lycan flesh being tormented by as many as five righteous Oren rounds.

He looked up and began to growl, his shadow coming up around him like a cape or a blanket- and with that Ziau stood, encased by the only magical part of himself- his Shadow Stepper blood- his heritage- his dark outline itself. He let the shell break open and trickle like black ink down his arms, chest, and back. They globbed up and became extensions of his arms- blades- where his paws once were. He stormed at them, and with as much fury and undying hatred for the Coven he could muster- he went head to head with Oren herself.

With the rounds she fired, more than half of the Pack was brought down- this was thought to be the end, surely though, wolves would never surrender. Her silver blade- it was so sleek- easily cut the atmosphere around Ziau, missing seemingly on purpose, and a sickening hum emanating as it passed by him. It was calling his blood- Ziau was surrounded, and her soldiers of shining silver stood by and watched as their High Elder did battle with the wiry Guardian of the Pack. Ziau snarled, using his shadowy blades as means to keep himself from contacting the deadly metal she wielded- and also as a weapon of his own- mostly blocking and keeping himself alive as she swung with trained slashes and trusts.

It was all a reckless circle of bloodletting- Ziau would block and try to parry, but Oren was quicker- faster- and smarter than he with her blade that he would normally hulk into and use a a way to keep her pinned for a beat down. Now Ziau- Ziau had to do the opposite of how he did battle, he had to think, be quick on his feet, and defensive. She would tear him apart if she got one clean cut on him- surely end him- and make this spiraling battle just that much close to extincting the twenty some odd wolves left standing. He thought all was lost- she would best him, and with the unmistakable howl and sensation of Lycan fluids spilling down to the parched earth- she had cut him across his abdomen- spilling him, singeing him, and dispatching him from fighting Oren any further. He fell to one knee- his hardened blades composed of merely his shadow spilled to the ground and took his shape as the moonlight pressed his pattern to Mother Earth's bosom, Ziau would soon be with her- passed as Oren raised her blade to behead the less fortunate wolf.

He waited for it- the clean cut and the void of black- but instead he heard a clash, and a snarl, "You- bitch- back the fuck off my man like that!" It was Maes- Serbian mercenary, equal to Ziau in the Pack- and a much needed relief to his situation. Behind Maes stood his partner in crime- his mate- Kaiede, both were a cute couple, and even fiercer as so. Kaiede was short, curved, wide tattooed hips, pretty face, and deep red locks that matched Maes' eyes. Maes was tall- built- tan, and he had straight black hair that ended just under his chin. It splayed his face, it made him almost mysterious- but when he was in battle- it made him that much harder to read. He was baring his teeth like any wolf in rage- and with that Oren chuckled and took a step back.

Maes would look to Ziau, only briefly- "Kai, patch Ziau up- I will deal with this pile of rot." He raised his blade to point at the Asian undead woman- the soldiers wielding silver still standing by, probably amused by this display. Kaiede's hands fell on Ziau- cradling his wound only for a split set of sixty, and finally she began to tear at her skirt's pleat. She held the deep navy fabric against his wound- the pain was only worsened- the tortured flesh crying out even through her makeshift rag- like oil popping and bubbling in a pan. He snorted and felt concerned for Maes- a man whom he would trust everything with, the last Ziau wanted was for him to die.

"Stand down- this is between me and bitch boy down there- you will only become a wolf skin rug for my chambers." Oren said keenly- Shyann moving to stand next to her. This was when Ziau realized they were being overwhelmed- the Marquise's forces met in the middle- they fended off the Pack and now she was staring down at the heap of wolf - past Maes, a grin on her face. She simply muttered, "Heat of battle too much for a puppy like you?" She flicked her wand and with that the soldiers of silver weaponry left- towards the fray, that had split from the small scene. The wolf shivered- her voice- he knew that they needed more than just a few wily wolves to live through this.

Then there was a crackle- Vice would approach from behind, Gensa standing next to him- it was the meeting of the Elders, the Elders that knew Ziau best out of the Coven- they stared with almost unending amusement as they nearly picked their blows before they dealt them. Gensa would giggle, "If he fights anywhere close to how he gives head- he must have been far not worth your effort, Elder Oren." It was his pride- all of it being strewn about as hate bubbled and churned beneath the silver's burn.

"End them- before I do- you deserve it Oren." Vice said coldly, his eyes hidden by a pair of sunglasses- his hair comber back and his arms crossed on his chest. He reminded you of that vigilante from a 90s movie, and he was almost calm at all times. His temper- when unleashed- could end a similar rampage- an unstoppable force Ziau had dealt with a few times- the Demon Vice- he was a perfect match to the Bloodwitch, Shyann. She expressed herself- was vocal- proud- and she almost never lost her cool- but she was far from calm when it came to dealings with her family.

Gensa, Gensa Ziau had admired once- she looked over him now with pity- and he didn't blame her, Ziau had left the Coven on a bad note. With a whole different story to tell, a whole different saga- Maes didn't understand their interest in his death- but Ziau was far less than a thorn in the side of most vampires in the city. His demise would be a trophy for them- but no great victory, as not even the proud Russian Gray would be something to leave more than a disgusting taste in one's mouth.

Oren simply smirked as Maes was held still by the invisible hands of a spell- Gensa's eye aglow, the wind whipping up around the Serbian terror, a wolf of wastelands- a wolf that would be reckoned in battle. Shyann- she would snicker and nod to Vice, as he pressed his fist into his hand and began to walk at Kaiede- whom only snarled and tryed to protect Ziau. He picked her up easily by her hair and tossed her to the side, his hulking stance a barrier between Ziau and the mate of Maes. Ziau wished- he actually prayed for a miracle- and it was like clockwork, his miracle was answered.

Before Oren could reach Ziau yet again- Frodo, called 'Ro- stepped out of seemingly nowhere. He sent Oren to her knees with one fell swish of his balanced blade- the hilt emblazoned with angel wings of surgical steel. He barks once- loudly and he turns to face Gensa first, his tail- the tiny stub- perked up behind himself, alert, and showing his distaste for the scene as it was. He gives three quick steps and slashes the blonde haired Barbie of a witch along her sternum and shoulder charges her into a heap. He was not pleased- Vice had turned and sent a few swings to 'Ro's jaw- and they sounded out with a set of six thuds. It was bone on bone- flesh on flesh, and 'Ro would happily oblige- and with that he rose his arm and backhanded Vice away with ease.

Vice was sturdy- powerful even- and he only collects himself as Shyann took a few steps back and began to cast a long complicated spell at the earth around the whole group. Spires began to grow- jutting out and encasing the saviour- rendering 'Ro completely useless- his sword trying to cut past the thick stone spikes with no avail. "Let me out you FUCKING coward!" roared 'Ro, but Shyann giggled and responded, "Now then- that would defeat the purpose." Vice laughed- a cold and almost bone chilling laugh. "Fucked- you are Ziau- fucked."

Maes- responded with rage, purely so, and he came from Vice's right blind and decked him like Vice had done to 'Ro. It was sickening- the thuds- one,.. two! And Vice was tackled, wrestling with the Serbian wolf as if it were a low key episode of WCW when you were a kid. Shyann- however- tossed a large slab of rock at Kaiede's direction, not even looking over- and began to walk slowly towards Ziau. He was crumpled- and bleeding, and even then- Oren and Gensa began to collect themselves.

"I am going to enjoy this- pup." She said teasingly, and with a little snicker she pointed the pair of her wands right at Ziau's heap and began to mutter something Ziau understood not. Miracles rarely came- but as they tussled, the battle went on- the Pack began to drive back even the warriors of silver weaponry- the handful of them, and as Shyann began to cast her spell- the Pack closed in on her like a large lynch mob ready to punish the vampires for their differences and only so. Blaze, Nasreen, Taien, Nickolas, Castalia, Chasity, Merasu, Milana, and Jean all approached- the little bunch glowering as they watched the scene unfold. The battle was done- the Pack and Coven drew, both losing a lot- but for the wolves,.. it had just begun.


Charissa's army trampled the rubble and broken asphalt as they marched onto the streets of the City. Her personal guard took their places- Nort and Michel beginning to board up the windows and doors of the Cafè Destanica. Demon Sloan and the cabal of Nova- Eianna- and Nikki walked the streets scouring for Pack. And Luden stood beside the sinister Arch Demoness. "Mi'lady- your city smells tainted, too much dog hair everywhere." These were bold words from a Lycan- but he was not like Ziau, Luden walked brimstone and had forsaken nature's ways long ago. Charissa could only giggle, and reply, her arms folded under her enourmous deep ruby bust line.

"Careful- don't go thinking I would keep this shit hole for myself- I simply wish to purge that of which threatens my steady hold on this city, and I assure you, you will be rewarded for your loyalties." He looked dead ahead- her pair-steed of seven headed beasts long resting with her army. The streets were relatively empty, who would come out when Hell itself spat on the face of the City where even Angels got Lost? She curled her black lips and finally began to walk towards the rubble of the Den, too much effort for the feet of a Queen- so she stopped and cleared her throat. Men, chained and shackled came and bared a throne of flesh and steel- spikes laced with magical pentagrams, glowing and tearing the void of existence around where they shone. She climbed atop her carriage of four mortal men, all naked- perfect in figure- all forced and enslaved to the demons of the Brood.

They muscled her, struggled and grunted, and heaved her up while she relaxed- taking her to the destroyed Den. Markus- the long haired Gangrel shape shifter approached from along the alleyways and the Arch Demoness ordered the men to stop their advance and she greeted him with an almost evil laugh, "Ah- Markus- you please me with your presence, good news I hope?" With that she turned to face him with an overly expectant glare- the deep orbs of hellfire flickering with the answer already in mind.

"Yes- we slew who was present- torched the Den- and the relief forces headed for Dori's army- they will be meeting up in less than a day's time." Markus bowed over his arm- not afraid- not one bit fearing the leader of Hell's forces itself. "Well by Lilith I am glad to hear this Markus- you may begone, perhaps an alm for your troubles?" She reaches into her cleavage- the thin and elegantly traced lines of her fingers pulling a single braid of hair- dark- silky- and knotted at the end. She tosses it to him- a great gift to a shape shifter- a prize they could use for unending amounts of inspiration- and a new personality to transform into.

Markus catches the braid and brings it to his lips- feeling the protein coated strands with a bit of unexplainable appreciation. "Tempest-" He says aloud, one of Charissa's most trusted and cherished minions- her personal kitty cat- and a personality Markus could draw great power from. The braid was a symbol of trust- and a perfect reward for the man. He held it in his offhand and bowed, "I will take my leave." And with that - he was gone.

Charissa turned her nose up and grinned- broadly, her amusement deep- she barely had to lift a finger and the Coven acted as pawns for her will- a simple chunk of her pet's hair and the home of her enemy was decimated. She clears her throat and the men carrying her begin to drag her off- carrying her towards the suburbs- towards the heat of battle, the Brood would make their appearance there- where the Coven had failed.

Ziau looked up at the Bloodwitch, her wands a force he was unsure about- limitless in possibility, limitless in which they could do to a wolf like Ziau. He spoke- shaped vowels and consonants that were bent and twisted like lead, and fell heavy on the ears of others. "Just,.. drop it Shyann- I am sorry for my words, but there is no need to go and take another's life simply because you dislike my family." Ziau closes his eyes and then lowers his head, trying to stand. She would act then- his movement, and with that the limestone miles deep under the surface would crack and fall beneath Ziau's feet- a two foot drop and he would sprawl on his ass among the parched wastes in the suburbs of the city they so much cherished as a home.

"Insolence- Ziau- you filthy MUTT! INSOLENCE!" she would holler louder if she were able, but her furious eyes locked onto him- she was certain she could have ended him, but she was no shallow witch. Shyann looked up and among the small force of Pack that remained- the war torn and almost overworked group that was more intent on saving their family than chasing the straggling Coven. She simply sighed and perked his eyes up to 'Ro as he broke free of his rocky prison. "Oren, Vice, Gensa- let's go." And with that- the most intelligent of movements, she let Ziau live- for the sake of not losing her own future.

Milly quickly rushed to her mate, fell to her knees and cradled his head- pulled him into her embrace and whimpered. "Ziau,.. you idiot- you should have never tried- you are such an idiot!" She was pissed, but for good reason- Ziau broke rank- Ziau went off on his own to fight Oren and her silver guards, and as a result Ziau almost died. The war was heating up- and he cleared his throat- he had forgotten the Brood army- he had let it slip by in the bloodshed, and with that- Charissa's voice would ring out to tired ears.

"Good evening- wolves, it seems,.. we had a fun time playing with the bats? How about we play with the nightmares now, yeah?" He was standing atop her sick human throne, her heels cutting into the lower backs of two men, their faces twitching and their eyes tightly shut. One would cry out- and Charissa would stamp her sharp heel down and give an a pass of air- a dark laugh for all to hear. Tempest would pad closer, her long dagger drawn- with her- Nova, tentacles and giant rusty blade splayed and ready- Eianna, thin, skintight latex suit around her almost intoxicating outline- dual axes hanging in her hands at her side. And next to her- Nikki, a sword that was of bone, tentacle and the hilt a long phallus, a weapon of flesh itself.

Charissa herself was not lazy, nor was she weak- she would leap from the men and give another spurt of laughter, and then a line of near warning, "Before I unleash Hell's fury on you- do know- my army of so many have begun to take the city- me and my Brood will be forcing you all to leave -MY- city,.. or you will die in the process of purification." Sloan was heard flapping overhead- Nort seen lurking atop the bunker where Nareen and Stormy had fended off Coven forces, his long dreads hanging from his black cowboy hat. Luden looked on the scene from the distance- perhaps a hundred yards or so away, his arms folded, ready to spring to action with the Beretta in his left paw.

"So- shall we? Shall we dance- Pack? Well- I will be the first to say-" She tugs her sword free and the cries of the fallen sound off from the gemmed hilt, the end of the steel glowing eerily. "Your spirits will decorate the sheer blood lust of my blade- your skin will be a tapestry for my halls- and your fur will be a comfortable rug for my bedroom, bow to me as your Queen and I will make sure you suffer none." She was now audible- loud- booming, and speaking commandingly in tone- no longer amused. She sounded pissed, flat out pissed, and mommy had come home to take her city back from the puppies that played.


Shyann and her handful of remaining forces- her cabal of Elders, they were tired- but they were not down and out. She met with Markus and Erica- Her eyes sunken and heavy- even she was worn from battle. She spoke to them softly, her voice almost soothing to the ears of a mortal- a hiss to those of the damned. "Markus- you will go and ensure Charissa destroys the Pack- Erica, you and Jessica will go to Lost beach- you will inform Ishtar and the rest that the war is on, we will be allying with the Brood- and we will be removing the Pack filth from this city.

Shyann would bow, her eyes respectful to her kin, and the thirty surviving soldiers in hand- she would wander off into the South Gate district to recuperate. Markus would nod to her and march off- his four slaves all gracefully following- and Erica would go with Jessica to the Lost Beach district and inform the family- this began their involvement, this began their uprising- and their alliance- and this began it all.


The first clash with the Brood was the hardest, Jean dug is sword deep into the shoulder of Nova- but the tentacles she withheld encased him and tossed him- the girth of her extremely long rusted blade slamming it's flat into his spine and making him holler out as the -pop- of bone echoed into the tussle. Eianna would go head to head with 'Ro, her axes bashing and cleanly cutting across air - only to ring out as 'Ro parried and tried to counter her quick- blindingly fast attacks. Nikki- the fleshcrafter, devious, unrelenting, and demonic than all the rest would mold herself thicker- taller- and more muscular, hulking into the Pack. She would be met by Maes and Blaze, titans- Guardians of the Pack.

Luden himself fired off shots- but was confronted by Castalia, a lover interest long forgotten with this war- she was furious with how things had turned and they clashed, wrestling and muscling at each other, this time not playfully. Chasity would began to crack skulls with Tempest- but the demon kit would dispatch her alone, Merasu puffed up and ran in- backing her up, only to be bravely compensated by Kaiede- all encircling and tearing into the confrontation like none had ever experienced. Stormy, Stormy would begin to firefight with Nort- both practiced marksmen, and bullet upon bullet they fired across nearly two football fields of space- rocks and rubble the only cover they ran to. Michel- the intelligent and crafty trickster- brought his staff up and along Nasreen's front- and Markus made his enterence. The Gangrel shape shifter teamed up with Michel- Taien was not pleased.

The strongest of them all- the one they all looked up to- he stepped forward to stop the pair- but this is whom Charissa picked for combat, her sword coming up and crossing his. "Not so fast lover boy- you are mine, all mine!" She hissed and from the Queen's back came an ocean of tentacles, all whipping and lashing violently beside her. Ziau turned away- looked to his wife and snarled, "I will live- I can move on my own- please,.. get inside- make sure Scarlet is safe." But of course- Milana was pregnant with his son still- Scarlet with Taien's. Milana, however- wanted to be at her husband's side. She looked to him worried and almost begging him to come with.

The flapping- Demon Sloan fell from the sky as the unmistakable noise stopped. He came down and sent tentacles for Milly- wrapping her wrists- pulling her to a side- and then to the ground. He was a master of fears- and his Demonic arts of rape and evil seed planting. Even the thought of a child being tainted made Sloan writhe- and with that- he swooped down on them. His second mouth, the one on his abdomen gargled and belched- his long rows snapped and clicked as he hissed a laugh- only to be met by Ziau's blade. The wolf pounced, his sword first, forgetting his wound and hacking the long flesh tendrils from his wife with a struggled motion. "Inside!" He hollered, and with that- she was as he said- away and inside.


The bloodshed, the battling, it lasted briefly- and as people fell like dominoes, already weakened- tired- the fully powered Brood dispatched that Pack with near ease- dropping them like flies to the flame. First to fall was 'Ro- He squared off with Eianna- his eyes alight with rage, but she was a skilled and merciless fighter- too much for a worn down and fatigued wolf-man.

She sent an edged axe for his hip, crushing the bone and sending him into a pained yowl. Her knee would rise as he dropped- and crush the nose of 'Ro, sending him splayed to the asphalt they fought amongst- with a long winded laugh Eianna would approach and kick the sword from 'Ro's hand. Her demonic gaze met his- and she gently began to tug at his belt. He was dazed- unable to do much more than groan, his fingers curling and uncurling- his face spattered in blood, but she stripped him of his pants and with that- between her thighs rose the signature of Demon Eianna.

The Blue Demon- feared, mostly for her ability to take what she wanted grinned down at the bare lower half of 'Ro- and cared not for his long lycan pride that was draped along his thigh and pelvis. She would use a left hand to reach for her zipper, unleashing first her massive and perfect chest. The nipples were pert- stubby- and glistened, what seemed to be leaking just a tiny bit. She would bring her zipper down further and out would flop her over sized cock- veiny- and throbbing hard.


Merasu, Chasity, and Kaiede danced with Tempest, the dagger singing- and cutting for the trio in turn. Merasu would fling herself at Tempest- yet she gets batted away, Tempest's backhand not stopping her quick stepping motions. She would rise her blade, and meet the wrist of Chasity- disarming her sword arm and with ease headbutt her all in the same motion. In a crumpled heap- Chasity would toss her off-hand blade to Kaiede, who was newest to their Pack. Kai would wind up giving a long gash to Tempest's perfect figure- just along her navel- and a wild shriek would sound out.

Tempest was vain- beautiful and deadly when provoked- but when someone left her a scar- her rage would be unsubsidable. Tempest turned, slammed the hilt of the dagger on Kai's brow- and then pounced the smaller woman- left hand grabbing for hair and dagger hand slashing for anything soft and in the path. With that- Merasu tackles Tempest off of Kaiede, and the thud that reverberated was met with another shriek. Merasu's tackle saved Kai- but her head was drove to the pavement, and then Tempest shot herself back up, kicking the motherly kit in the gut, "Bitch!" Merasu and Tempest had a past- all involving a Feral Alpha- but that was put aside.

Kaiede would stand- pick up the wounded Chasity and drag her off to a side, towards the calm- away from the bloodshed. Tempest stared down at the pink haired Merasu and sent boot after boot to her- stomping her, kicking her, and brutally punishing her for the gash- intent on killing. Merasu would whimper- "Wh-oof! Stop,.. I's,.. I's not- OOF!" It was just the beginning of what the Pack would face- they would all feel the pain.


Nova was pounding Jean- one of Ziau's best friends- into a pulp. Her tentacles wrapped him, drew him in- and then she would bat him away with the long rusty blade. Time after time he would take her beating- but he would get back up- the Ashbringer- will unwavering. The toughest human in existence some would swear- the Last Action Hero- Jean fought ruthlessly- perhaps even making the Demon Nova break a sweat.

Ziau had heard she was prosthetics, but the tentacles on her back worked with her- wrapped Jean's throat only to be hacked down- a furious warcry emptying from his lungs as his blazing sword that wielded heat- wielded his spirit drove forward at the Demon Nova. Nova would parry, send her five foot- possibly longer- rusted blade for his chin, the flat end- brutally sending him back to the ground in a heap. She would laugh aloud, "You are pathetic, you cannot hope to defeat me- Ia Ia Cthulhu Fthagn- You are the Last action ZERO!"

Jean wouldn't answer, he would just keep fighting- picking himself up and throwing his tired body at her, only to be repelled and punished- and to repeat. Jean was tough- resilient- and he fought bravely to fell Nova- with no reward- everyone was tired, even Jean,.. got tired.


Blaze and Maes- powerful Guardians of the Pack- they sent blow after blow into the Fleshcrafter Nikki- only to be repelled as he gray skin absorbed and bent around their blades. She was seductive- she had made her body attuned to that of humanly desire- a succubus if you were to guess, but among that all she was a being of pride. Her sin made her confident- and drained that the will of her opponents. Maes was hacking away- no reward, and Blaze hurled chunks of broken up street by the four foot slab.

Nikki just took their hits- her phallus-hilted blade jamming into Mae's midsection with ease, "Too easy-" She would remark snidely and yank her blade of bone from his abdomen. Blaze- the Titan, one of the strongest willed in the Pack looked on with horror as Maes felt forward in a pained heap, gripping his bleeding gut. Not dead- no one was dead yet- but they all hurt, down to the core.

Nikki would finally giggle, an evil giggle, and with that her arm would extend- the sinew and skin, bone and muscle all shaping to a long whip that crash the Lycan across the chest. Blaze had suffered the most against the Coven- he was on the front line, he had fought valiantly, without him there would have been not a single victory. But now- Nikki struck him over and over, whipping with him with surreal arm of contorted flesh- laughing madly as she did so. All he could do was drop to his knees- and snarl- simply taking his beating.


Stormy, not of the Pack, but of the Collective cared for them- her and her mate had helped the struggle, and she was rifled into this fight by her bond with the Pack. Her fifty caliber rifle sounded off over her shoulder- she didn't look to aim, only fired pot shots and then reloaded. Her ammo waned- but surely Nort's did too- as they had been sending streams of rounds at each other's cover.

She had enough toying with him, and the aged wolf-mother stood and looked down her barrel, only to spot Nort laying down far across on top of the bunker- using the metal lip of the roof as cover. She pulls the trigger, the semi-automatic rifle blasting out with raw power and incredible capability. Nort- however had the advantage- as Stormy was then sent on her ass as Nort's three round burst dug into her thigh and ribcage. Stormy would whimper and then scream, falling back behind the pile of rocks she used as her makeshift barrier. She bled quickly- she wasn't used to taking fire, she was always the type to shoot first- as well as kill first.

Unsure whether or not Nort had taken hits himself she threw her rifle aside and began to rip at her uniform jacket- pulling it open and using it as a makeshift bandage for her abdomen- letting her leg bleed accordingly. She would snarl, her skin shivering and collecting a long splotch of goosebumps as only a tank top protected her from the rock at her back and the wastes that whipped up with the wind- pinned down for sure.


Demon Sloan fought like he would be expected to- mercilessly, with prowess, and unending horrific tricks that he could conjure up for any situation. The wounded Ziau charged him, Sloan sent a tentacle for his feet- sweeping him onto his ass, and then rifled it forward- disarming him with relative ease. Sloan snapped his jaws shut a few times, only to hiss and then speak, "We do not take kindly to pesky mutts- you would best to flee, and not subject yourself to our torture." A few more clicks of his jaws and a burp from his stomach's mouth- and he simply flapped his wings and hovered in place.

Ziau groaned, still injured- nothing but quick work for Demon Sloan- nothing but a game- nothing but a joke. Ziau stands and points at him, "Fuck you- I am fucking sick-" That was all he could get off before Sloan sent a tentacle down Ziau's throat and made him gag and sputter. Ziau couldn't breathe- he was left suffering and his weak paws grabbed the long tendril in fear, slowly Sloan lifted Ziau off of his feet and then tossed him aside like a rag doll.

The wolf vomits- vomits for everything it's worth and the viscous green goop that filed him seemed to do nothing more than churn and make him feel queasy. "Th-the fuck y-you,.." He trails off, only to be bashed across the brow with Sloan's black shield, "We would appreciate your silence- mutt." Then Demon Sloan would raise his axe and hiss- tentacle after tendril slamming into Ziau, choking- gagging- and literally torturing the poor Garou, for yet again, all it was worth.


Nasreen had always seemed like Ziau's least expected to fight at all. She was frail to him -too important- and too much to risk. Michel and Markus fought her like she were nothing less than any other Lycan though. Markus wielding a longsword- Michel wielding his magic and dark draw on the world around them. Nasreen slashed at Markus with her combat knife, sent her knee for him- only to be repelled by gusts of hot air and a smugly smirking Michel, "Surely my dear- you will need to do better than that.

Markus impales her- his sword jamming through her and out her back- putting their Den mother out of commission- yet Michel steps forward and catches her with his staff as Markus tugs his sword free. She was sure to pass with the blood loss- she was sure to pass with the pain- but Michel kept her up and began to heal her wound. Her arms hung limply,disarmed, at her side and she glared at Michel weakly. "You fought hard today Alpha- let me make you feel more comfortable."

Michel would step forward further and hold her up while Markus stood there- grumbling, feeling like his effort was wasted, "Quit toying with her" the Gangrel would say, but Michel just grins and chants lightly under his breath- a long flash of arousal falling over the Pack Alpha. "That is all Markus-" Michel would say, his arms dropping her gently to the ground, and finally folding on his front, "I have business to care for now."


Luden was met by and angry Castalia- the other human amongst the Pack. She was blessed with long beautiful red hair- curly- and a soft freckled face that would warm the day for you. Luden- himself- was smooth, slicked back hair, and a pair of spurred cowboy boots on his feet. He was your simple man- a man of fine tastes, yet underneath he was a demon-tainted Lycan with a muscular sword arm and a furious temper.

She charged him, sword slashing, but he gave her a right hook to the temple and she crumpled to the side- worn down- the blow enough to daze her down and out. Luden- however- would not allow her to only give him that much effort and call it end, he would simply state, "Get up- show me what you got then." He would point his gun and smirk, his demeanor always calm- smooth- and nearly over-smug.

She would stand- worn out- beaten from the day's effort and cry out, "Shut the FUCK up!" Castalia was known for her fiery attitude and seemingly never ending source of will- but Luden- Luden was stronger than many Lycans of the Pack- even Ziau. He tackles her, slamming the barrel of his pistol into her cheek and then punching her again with another right hook. A knee on each of her shoulders he makes fast work of her, bashing- slamming- punching- and grunting as he beat her tired body senseless.


Taien and Charissa went at it like a wild dog versus a duchess, her blows were elegant and quick- where Taien's were powerful and precise. Like doing surgery with the end of the sharpened instrument he would weave in and give the Arch Demoness a little nick along her cheek- back up and snicker, "Ain't so untouchable- bitch- and here I thought you spent your days in Hell preparing." She would simply give him signature laugh, hollow, dark, chilling. "Nono- you see- luck is nothing to gloat over, lay a similar gash to me and you will be accepted as at least more than useless." Her voice was curled and feminine- but commanding and confident.

Charissa lowers her gaze, her sword dropping to her side and her mouth gaping a bit. It was a seductive moan that resonated and the tentacles shot from her back at Taicat- trying to grip and disarm, trying to slap and stab- Lillith on her side with every motion. Taien leaps however, over her and lands to a side- away from her assaulting tendrils- away from her sword and her words. He reaches into his coat with his offhand, tugging a sawn off shotgun from an inside pocket and points it at her, "Let's see if luck is on my side."

He points the hand cannon at her upper half and pulls the trigger twice, sending a scatters to her- finding no reward. The pieces of buckshot sink into her skin and phase her none- she was past mortal pain, she doesn't even shriek- simply laughs. "Not even a clover of four leaves could save you- unskilled- outmatched- and seemingly fucked, wouldn't you say?" She simply tread at Taien, her sword still hanging at her side loosely. Taien would figure her overly cocky- or perhaps too much for him to handle.

Though he had fought hard that night- he was far from tired, Taien, and he tosses the gun aside as useless as it was in this fight. He charges her- swinging upper left to mid right, and down to lower left- all in one cut, the end of his blade slashing her bare abdomen and cleaving her sword arm open. She now twitches- and simply drops her blade, face still unmoving and her voice steady. "You are going to pay for that- pest."

The Arch Demoness' sword cried out- cried out for the sorrow and souls she had reaped. She would send a tendril to pick the sword from the ground, and simply hand it to her off-hand. "Now- Taien- I suggest you say your goodbyes, as,.. you are fucked." No warning- she shrieks louder than Tempest had- more pitched and he engulfs the Lycat in her long fleshy extensions. The next that was seen of Taien was a heap in the Aracadia street- stripped of his pride, the Arch Demoness simply watching with amusement as her Brood picked the Pack apart one by one.


From the other end of Aracadia came Odorioko- the other half of the Brood's Dual Queen leadership. She rode a similar steed as Charissa, held a similar force- yet it was accompanied by a large number of Coven soldiers. It marched proudly, singeing the earth where it walked- and this surely meant- fight's over.

Charissa chuckles looking up to the oncoming Brood forces and then back to the scene, her face overshot with joy. Her hand would come up to her temple where she would place a pair of slender fingers and finally she would tap into the Hivemind of the Brood. One by one- the small band of elites- Charissa's best would return to her side, leaving their beaten enemies in piles in front of their own bunker.

That was it- curtains- the war had begun- and with their first conflict, they were sucessful. The brood drove the Pack into the ground- beat them, taunted them, even raped their women. The group of demons didn't even look back as Charissa's throne of four mortal men carried her twoards her better half- the other Queen- the other Arch Demoness. The stench of blood- the tinge of pain and broken pride still in their mouths- the beaten Pack shuffled, drawing to eachother to patch up, and prepare,.. prepare for the next countless set of Brood and Coven waves.



02/07/09 04:11
StormyWildeNice story Ziau! Cant wait to read the rest. <302/07/09 05:00
KesAmazing, as always, Ziau.
I love reading pretty much anything you write.
02/07/09 05:28

In a time of need,
Only few can see what's wrong,
Millions tend to crawl,
But only those who choose,
Can make it through this all,
Only few can sing like lions,
'Cause we sing until we're gone,
And we've got each others backs,
Until we're back where we belong,
A woman held my shield,
And through the battles we did wrong,
A man who taught me wisdom through the static we recall,
And maybe when we're gone,
Our names will echo through the stars,
Every start's got it's ending,
Even when we've learned to rise above it all,

.:This Love this Hate by Hollywood Undead:.


When you see the ocean's reflection above burn red- when you see the streets fill with blood, the apocalypse has come. When you smell the cinder and you feel the heat of Hell itself flickering past your epidermal, the apocalypse has indeed come. And when you feel the bones in your body snap and crumble- when you feel your flesh rot from your very frame, the apocalypse has come. There will be none to survive the Apocalypse, there will be none to carry on- yet words are never true to action, with this business about none surviving, I am lieing.

All the words spit from a false prophet are just banter, all the sounds coming from an empty pistol are just clicks- but this I will say, a wolf's roar will always be full of life- full of vigor. This war, all of it took it's toll, but again I would be lieing to say that it was not fueled by every side and that it was indeed like the coming of a second apocalypse. Hell marched again, this time not alone, this time their head high above their chests, this time their fists balled and their demonic fangs bared.

Everyone will bleed, as I said, and everyone will suffer- yet, perhaps I still tell lies. Perhaps there were some, some who CHOSE to bleed- and never did, and those who hid like cowards so that their blood never spilled. Perhaps I told nothing but lies when I said this was Ziau's warzone- it was everyone's warzone- your warzone. Perhaps I lied when I said that not a single soul would remain untouched, as this was now a political battleground, a place of alliance and treaty- a place of unending and unrelenting words.


The wolves, they were a Pack of Lycanthropes - all different from tail to ear, and from front to back. Some wolves were more human than wolf, some humans were more wolf than man. It was a cycled balance of blood- whom was more primal and whom was less so. The Pack was at war, they had always been fighters, but now they faced an alliance of more than they could handle- more than they could ever have hoped for- yet they found a way to survive and grow stronger. This was now their deepest and darkest hour, a time when the Brood would attack from any side at any time- and the influx of wolves from other Packs was becoming customary.

Wolves of more primal background than any they had dealt with, raw berserking beasts that stood taller and more proud than they deserved, and caring Den Mothers from other holes in the ground, all came to help their race live, and to fight back the fires of hell. They came from far East on the other coast- far North where their footpads were callused simply from the tread of so much ice. And far south where the temperature made the hot wastes of Pacifica look like an cooler full of frozen cubes. This was a bonding- many languages, many words, and many fighters, all here to try and turn the demons from their ascent on Earth again- they wished no wave two on this post-apocalypse period.

Nasreen, she was a fiery and keen tongued leader, a spell caster, a combat master, and a caring soul- all packaged up into the woman who stood with the leaders of every Pack around her. Ziau was present, how could he not be- but he was not part of the dealings, which sent little spurts of pain up his windpipe- like he had been choking back a roar, one that would simply make his pride look genuinely uncontrollable. Yet, with the news they had been given, he was unsure WHOM he could go off saying things about- or trust- but Ziau never doubted Nasreen.

The battle with the Brood took it's toll, and the Pack recuperated, only to be shot in the heart again- well some- by the sudden leave of their second Alpha- 'Ro, whom stepped down and away from their Pack, gone from their ranks. This had been a war long before the Brood had taken it's hammer and smashed the glass surface of the Pack's morale- foothold- and all around well being. 'Ro gone, Nasreen fired up and upset with the outcomes, and a Pack full of hungry- starving warriors, wanting nothing more than a fresh attack on either the lizards or the leeches.

Ziau remembered every moment, the people whom had come to him, asked him to join them in a purpose to overthrow 'Ro- and he wound up leading them. Taking them high and only for them to remain silent as he snarled and snapped at the leadership around them. This was where wolves showed their human side- where the wolves themselves had done democracy- for he was given a voice and met with concern, yet promise and no punishment. Long in the thought- he had to snap free, let it buzz in the back of his skull as he saw what he wished and predicted unfold- and he could only hope silently, this too would go his way.

Nasreen was standing on a wooden table, her hands neatly folded behind her back, her posture proud yet delicate. She seemed to flirt with your eyes if you lied them on her- the tiny skirt that barely passed her upper-thigh, the knee highs that were tied as tight as she could pull the strings. And of course the thin and blood-stained tank top which left your mind up to imagining when she bent or twisted to either way. Nasreen was not frail however. She simply had smooth skin where she had been impaled, fierce eyes that looked along the Packs through thick rimmed glasses, as well as the same messy black hair that covered parts of her face depending on how her mood made her twist and jerk her head.

Up front was the closest to Ziau's kind, not the mixture of kinds - his Lost Angels Pack being the only one- but it was the Eastern Pack of highland Grays- the Flatplain Pack, runners- wiry fighters with unending stamina and a strong willed old Alpha named Checker. He was actually named a human name- because as a puppy, he was mistook for a dog, being ninety percent wolf and ten percent human, he was a proud wolf, whom in humanoid form- looked like your cliche wolf man from a kid's series in the eighties. He was simply more wolf than anything, but handsome to human or canine alike- his voice rumbled with a keen New York accent, and his concerns were always voiced first.

"So we come all duh way ou' here? And you is meanin' tah tell me tha' you want tah wait tah fight?" He was answered with a slight murmur of voices, agreement, disagreement- it was an even split for his hidden call to go find blood that very instant. Ziau felt for him, Checker, the mocked domesticated old wolf- a strong Alpha, but nothing to the will of Nasreen. "You will speak in turn- Check- this is our makeshift Den and we called you here to inform you of danger you WILL face if they are not stopped. If you want to go get yourself killed- do it then- but we will not scrape you up off of the street." There was no rumble of voice, simply silence.

The South American wolves, they were an odd type, they wore hides- loincloths- and carried spears. More human than anything Ziau had seen in a Lycanthrope- most closely related to Foxes by species. They were forest wolves, that of Native American Indians- yet they resided in Brazil. Their Pack was always quiet, last to speak- but up came his concern, a solemn dark haired man- with dark ebony skin. "If you have come here to make idle threats to us Nasreen- you shall be met with nothing but disregard." Lorthus- that was his name, he was a man of face paint, tribal culture- yet strong educated knowledge. They were the Silkspear Pack, wolves that lived among the trees- swift- accurate- and intelligent trappers when they hunted.

Finally came the wolf from far North, Ziau's most trusted, the Tundra White's of Canada. They weren't cliche- didn't speak with that Canadian draw, simply they spoke like well placed humans- and held human names, they were an even split, but they were pure. They possessed the power of grace, the paws that would hop from rock to rock- and skate across an ice field without cracking the snow's surface. This wolf- Ziau admired him so, perhaps as much as Nasreen, he roared, "ENOUGH!" His voice would tremble the inside of the small bunker- making the rocks and dust from the ceiling crackle and fall a bit to the carpeted floor. "This,.. this is an INVASION and all I see is fight or don't fight! We will be fighting- that is EMINENT!" He was not out of breath, or fighting back rage, he was simply roaring out- and then standing calm. His name was not known- they were the Forsaken Pack- they never gave out names, this yelling wolf was simply known as Forsaken Alpha.

Their story- it was not fully known, simply they had been apart of a much larger Pack elsewhere- and left, only to come overseas to be in the Northern Coastline's kingdom- and after many generations, their original name was lost,.. Forsaken. Nasreen admired them, but she feared them not, she called them in and now she looked down at this man- bundled up in furs and leather, sunglasses on his face, sandy brown curls atop his head. She would smirk and finally speak, "If you wish to fight with us- you will wait until we are ready and planned- we will simply be adding more to our own army, as we have a legion or more of pit crawlers knocking at our -fucking- door."

This was met with furious discussion- banter- outrage- and even agreement. "But- But!" and "We refuse!" and even, "Heer Heer!" This was enough for a headache- Taien though, the Beta,.. he stood by with his better half, Scarlet- whom had given birth only a few days previous. You would expect him to step forward- to take charge and unify the Packs, yet,.. it was the little silver haired woman at his side who took charge and began to squeak over the voices. "EXCUSE me!" She stamps her foot, she was stern- almost cute with her mannerism, short, thin, almost framed like Milana in her stature. "This will NOT be discussed! My child and the other children of the Pack here will not be put into danger because some want blood and others to not!" It was silent as she spoke- and her face turned a bright red. She was shy- always quiet, but mothers always had courage from random depths of their inner selves, courage that never waned.

She would now add confidence to her voice- and a long stern crossing of her arms just under her breasts. Taien grabbed for his sword- first reaction to the woman spitting and snarling in the faces of so many other Packs. "Here is the final decision- you will either fight or you can go home, go hide and wait to die and be defeated alone because you couldn't help us succeed. We need you ALL - this is serious, if it was not we wouldn't swallow our pride and conjure you to this,.. this shit hole!" A few voices murmur from the crowd but she doesn't allow it, a man begins to speak, "Is this not them assaulting this Cit-" She would snarl out, "Silence! First it's this city- then the next- and finally the precinct, after that, the territory. Where do you see an end to power? This is NOT just our city in danger, are you in or are you leaving?" Lorthus and his wolves turn, they turn and leave the bunker- and this sent a chill up the spines of all who remained.

The silence was numbing, it was like a peaceful springtime evening- but with the pants of many, the heat of a blazing flame, it was indeed a painful silence. From this silence came the voice of Nasreen- she would not let this end with Lorthus, she would speak up, "Anyone else want to leave or shall we begin to call our Packs- unify- and prepare for war?" This was all that she had to say, perhaps it was Scarlet screaming with passion- or perhaps it was the distaste for Lorthus, but the other two Packs stayed, Forsaken and Flatplain. They would stay for ALL of the war, all using Pack comms- losing their own names and using names of a single unified Pack- Nasreen's Pack.


Charissa had walked away from the scene, the beaten dogs at her feet- she had met with her other Queen, the second of a dynamic duo. They had marched into Lost Angels- they had taken it all for themselves, and they needed no politics. She kept patrols- she kept a vengeful eye on the entire limits- and a careful ear. Anyone head speaking of the war without praise or bowing to the Alliance of Brood and Coven- they were drug out and flogged, with that- the bar was dead. Kesia- Commander of the Vanguard alongside James, she hated the lack of business. She turned to Logan- god knew what Logan was, but he was a tall clean shaven man. He wore a tight tactical skin suit and wore no shoes- some said he was a robot- others a biological Government project that had escaped- hell, some said he was simply human. Kesia just flicked him up and down and sighed all in the same look with her eyes- but her lungs never pushed air- she was too hellbent on this situation to go making a peep.

The Vanguard was not thick- they were protectors, but they were a carefully placed smaller number- working in teams, allying with none. Kesia expressed this- but she hated how Demons seemed to avoid booze. She was out to make a living alongside protect the innocent- a cigarette lit and placed between her lips, she scowled as she took a drag and kept staring across to Logan. The goofy man he was, Logan actually said what he had on his mind- foolish, bold, who knew. "This is fucked- pardon my usage of -this- I mean the situation, not the bar." Logan loved that damned bar- Zodiac Lounge- and not even Ziau was sure whether it was a passion for his job or for the only place you could consistently find him.

Kesia didn't even reply, she just leaned on a support beam and stared at him- through narrowing the pupils, as if saying, "Shut. The. Fuck. Up." She would ash her habit and blow out a plume, giving a Ziau-rivaling snort, "Jus' keep watch, yeah? None o' that jabberin'- gun' give me a headache." For being such a hardcore bitch, Kesia was attractive- pretty face, sleek blonde hair, and a voice- well- it was a voice you would expect from a European sailor, add your younger female. She was a character alright, hellish aim- even when drunk- an attitude Nasreen even was put aside by, and with all of that- she was compassionate.

Kesia would look up and see some men with loincloths and long stone tipped spears walk past the door. They seemed to be Native American Indians to anyone- but they had dark ebony skin- that like Frank of the Pack. They were proud, these men, and Lorthus led them only to be halted by Nikki herself. "Oy! Logan, this could ge' ugly- c'mere, behin' th' bar." She motioned him and scooted her way behind the three foot thick oak counter top- Logan following. Being as silly as he was. Logan closed the bar top entrance, locking it- like no one could crawl under or hop any of what they stood behind. They were obvious wolves- the group- fifteen or so, and Lorthus looked displeased.

All that she caught was Nikki cackle and holler out, "Belial be praised- you are stupid,.. filthy mutt!" And with that the battle began. Nikki tugged the sword of her's- a hilt shaped and crafted from a human phallus, tentacles and a rude eyeball emblazoned around the sharpened bone. She would cut down one- then two of Lorthus' most trusted warriors, relative ease as she did so- her slate gray skin shimmering with the never ending moonlight. The blood spray was triumphant and yet it was met by Lorthus himself shifting- enraged- and lunging with no warning. He was a big furry door of a man, broad shoulders- long tail- and scarred up muzzle, Nikki however- was a demon that even he would be unable to handle.

She would take the first blow- the most damage one had seen the gray skinned temptress take, she was off guard but unharmed. His hulking shoulder met just under her over sized breasts and sent her a step back- with that she would contort and turn into a long blob- shapeless- and fall forward atop the lumbering Lycan. She would cover and strangle about him- consuming and finally capping him off- out of sight- a mountain of flesh being punched, clawed, and howled underneath. Lorthus was a powerful and proud wolf- and with his sudden sense of desperation his handful of remaining guard sprung forward- breaking the honor of a wolf's one versus one instinct.

A spear to her outline- a mountain of gray flesh that seemed to shrink now- gently, slowly- the two onlookers behind the bar would bring hands to their faces. They would gape their expression and finally Logan would mutter, "Oh damn-" with that Kes would elbow him to shut him up. The spear itself did nothing- a dark tan younger man would try and leap at her- a couple shifting too, here and there. Repelling anything and everything with it's own force- Nikki now shrinks faster, the punching and howling- pangs of uprising flesh stopping suddenly as she gently consumes Lorthus whole.

Nikki was a proud Demon, one who practiced nothing other than her own arts- her own styles- and most of all flesh crafting. It was her talent, her ability, her skill. Nikki would just simply snap back to her seductive form, eyes flashing red and her lips curling up into a smirk as she giggled- "Anyone else?" One after another they would fling themselves at her- broken by the loss of their Alpha, Lorthus, and simply suicidal - perhaps more sorrowful than enraged. One after another she would hack them down with her rather odd sword of bone and phallus- throat, chest, knee then gut- not even lunging at a single one of them. She laughed as she did so- the small group of Flatplain Pack decimated, and with that she would nod.

Logan- well, he was in love with his job, a Guard to the core, and he hops the bar top- the door out of their little bunker was locked for some odd reason. He starts to tromp up and to the door of the Zodiac, Nikki being in the street right in front. She turns to see something down towards the opposite she was facing, Logan's right- and she sends herself on her way- out of sight. Kesia, you would expect nothing less than what she did- following Logan and bashing him harshly over the back of the head with a baseball bat she kept next to the cash register in case someone got cheeky. It rang out with a little -dink- and he didn't do much other than stop, speaking to her, but not facing her. "What was that for?"

"What was tha' for!? Gunna ge' us rightly groun' to a bloody PULP!" Kesia was not a fearful neko, oh yes, she housed a pair of ears that were barely ever visible with the way she put up her hair, and a tail that was almost unnoticeable unless you looked twice. In this city- no one was normal- a cat was a woman, a pigeon was a man- hell, they had an imp that ran the streets and had a cup of coffee with a select bunch that chose to hear his tale. Kesia was normal by look- but by action she was hardy and never a slow decision maker.

"We are here to protect the innocent- those men,.. they didn't seem to be doing any wrong- walking there." He was right, but Kesia's bold attitude overshot his ideas, "We don' know wha' happened- I wan' you to folluh 'er and make reports when ya' get a chance, I nee' tuh know who tha' was and wha' tha' was,.. I know th' woman was Brood- but wha' about those men?" Logan would only grumble and follow orders, turning only to grab a belt of grenades- a pouch- and a pair of pistols he belted to his waist, and an M-14 carbine assault rifle- yeah so he did leave his dangerous posessions on a pool table- normal action in this city these days.


Ziau would watch as the wolves were called, only to snicker and find it bland. The howl from Checker and Fosaken Alpha seemed similar- almost identical- all the same language. He was unsure whether it would carry- but all of the wolves began to howl. Silence was for the Earth- they made themselves heard- and from the confines of the city,.. there was a loud hiss and the ravens flocked away from the church tower near the subway. It was so close to their old Den- surely the Brood was patrolling, Aracadia was a gunshot away, and if Luden himself didn't warn an Arch Demoness- surely a lycan of some sort did.

Nasreen knew it would cause trouble- but this was war, a time of preparation, a time of staging- a time where the blood was on the horizon. Kesia, Kesia herself would be found creeping up on the scene. She simply chuckled- and pulled Nasreen aside by a strand of her long ebony hair. The conversation they would have was far from the Russian Gray's ears, but Ziau figured it was about the war. Nasreen was grim- heated in discussion, and it seemed to last forever. "You look troubled puddin'." Said a tiny voice from beside him.

Milana wrapped her arms around his- leaning into him and smirking up at the man, her deep blue oceans of eyes just telling him an entire saga of warmth as well as pain. She was soft- his love- his heart, and the deepest connection he had ever made with another. "Well- this war,.. my pride- it's all kind of spiraling downwards." He said this solemnly, his own vermilion occuli snapping shut and his mop of dyed hair then falling into his face as he bowed. Milly's ears would fold and her voice would sink- a whisper, "Oh." And that is what she would say- knowing full well that the war took tolls, that it would ruin relationships and lives, even their never ending bond- it would be effected.

The murmur would trail up and over the small huddle of Nasreen and Kesia- and Nasreen would be heard- what sounded like happiness- stating, "At least we have that- I am thankful Kes." It was a little confident pat to the woman and Kesia would start to stalk past the little group, her tail swishing calmly behind herself- yet her face strewn with frustration and many more packs of Lucky Strike to come. Nasreen stops at Ziau and Milly and sighs- Milana was best friends with the Alpha, along being Ziau's mate, she was an Elder- trusted, many believe this to be the only reason Ziau even was in the Pack still.

She would keep her confident gaze and finally speak up and to the little group, "Kesia says they refuse alliances- but she herself will be fighting fiercely for us, and that her Guard will protect the innocent where they see fit. This is an extermination- we are all innocent lives to the grinder- I am sure we will have their support. She also says that James will be leading up a shelter for the wounded- keep them from harm- which is good for us- a protected hospital." Nasreen sure was fiery- straight to the point- and not even phased by the Aracadia air that blew her tight bun apart and cascaded black locks along her soft shoulders. It was a scene- a beginning, a harbinging of what was to come.

It was also told to Nasreen that Lorthus was slain- well, what Kesia described as- no doubt in the Alpha's head- this was to remain silent- for it would break the morale of anyone that was not already in set to the bloodshed. She just smirked and spread the good word, Kesia would help- the Vanguard would keep their innocent- their wounded- and their tired safe from the Brood's oppresive grip. Ziau felt eased by this as well- yet, his ears perked and his nostrils flared, "Dark-" He muttered, and looked up to the roof of a nearby building.

The Tribe leader was a woman- she stood tall, but she was not in fact a neko. She was cybernetic- mostly Lycan- Ziau was not a fan of this mentioned person. Dark and the Tribe had been to war so often with Ziau's kin- and it was growing tiring to have to fend them off and pull them back to the spray of crimson and shedding of tear. Dark simply stood there- as if beckoning a fight- and Ziau moved towards the scene- yet- he was outmatched by two other Packies. Nickolas, and Celtic- they had already bounded, they had seen the shadow and picked up the scent- and fast acters they were- set off to intercept.

Ziau wanted to miss this none- his feet carrying him forward, most of the Pack turning to look- an ocean of fifty or more bodies gathered on the front of an old bunker dug into a rock formation just outside Lost Angels. Celtic would hit the roof in front of Dark first- but would be met with a headbutt from the rather despised enemy, and the thwack of bone meeting bone rang out. Keen ears weren't needed to hear how Nick reacted however- he shoved Celtic aside and grabbed Dark by her long black strands and sent her back as he fell forward. There was a crash- and he slammed the onlooking robot Lycan shoulder blades first to tar and gravel rooftop. He would roar out and raise a fist- only to attempt to swing on the woman.

Dark had not actually done anything wrong- she was only considered an enemy by association. Nick was a fierce and loyal Pack member, anyone would have done as he with the sight of a Tribe figurehead- but Nick was fended off my a quick acting metal limb. Dark sprung her foot paw into his gut- raised him up and the bionic part tossed him up and over. Celtic was waiting however- her sword slashing for Dark as she stood, but the mech-wolf was fast enough to parry the blow using her metal-lined forearms. Celt was not slow, nor unskilled, she would lean back and lunge again- trying to jab the point of her blade for Dark this time- only to meet soft fleshy sternum.

Dark would yowl, and then shoot a paw up faster than she could react by sound- grabbing the blade of Celtic's sword with a mechanized row of claws- gripping and then snapping the tempered blade easily. With a reach for her own daemon blade, the Tribe leader was stopped by a tackling Nickolas- coming from seemingly nowhere, fast behind, and sending Dark forward on her face. Metal and flesh clamoured and the wolves went head to head- Ziau leaped up and landed, Taien and Nasreen already ahead of him.

"Enough- " Nasreen would call out over them- the little tussle, "I said ENOUGH!" She would then holler. Nick would push Dark down and stand, Celtic simply gritting her canines with the lost of her blade. The Tribe leader simply stood herself, looking up to Nasreen- and finally vocalizing a bit with the night atmosphere that seemed to cling to your lungs through the tension. "Thanks Nas- seems your dogs need a shorter leash." This would send a few snarls- from Ziau and Taicat too, not just Nick and Celt. Nareen, however would just lowly speak over them all and nod.

There was a loud rumble as clouds rolled in behind the scene, the sky going blacker than the already forever night sky's hue. Thunder would stomp it's merciless frame into their eardrums, lightning would flash- and this was a surprise, as it had not rained in some time. Rain in the wastelands- or even in most cities was pure poison, radiation, and acid from the gasses that were put into the atmosphere from the gates of Hell being opened- and Wormwood's passing. When it did rain, the rare occasions, it was a complete and total lock down- everyone inside- with that, this storm was coming on quickly.

"Care to tell me what you were doing onlooking our rally? Not reporting to Charissa are we?" This wa a blunt question- Ziau didn't care the answer, he tugged his sword free of it's scabbard and stepped forward. Taien's arm came up and held him back though- this surprised the wolf, "But-" He simply snorted, motioning him to hush. Defeated- sunken he was only trounced further by Dark's words, "I have the right to stand and stalk where I wish- my cats are not taking sides in this, just yet, if at all." She gives a sharp bionic nod, "Surely anyone would be curious as to why there were a large number of howls echoing out of these parts."

This was true- and it would have ended there, but from behind them- a loud bang rang out- an explosion if you would. The rocks fell and were strewn like popcorn popping over a pan- cooked the old fashioned style. They would smash the Earth below as they landed, and wolves would snarl and bark- the scent was true. Coven- Shyann, Vice, and a couple of different faces this time. Atop the explosion stood the Bloodwitch- her Demon mate- and Ishtar, tall pale skinned barbarian- alongside Erica, simply carried and silent by personality.

The group was alone- not a single accompanying soldier or aspirant in sight- the four stood in a little half circle- all grinning, ready for god knows what. "Sorry we had to crash the party pups- you know how we are." Shyann would shout- seemingly overjoyed- not even wavering to the ocean of awaiting- snarling wolves below her.She simply took a few steps towards the edge of the pillar of rock and cackles again, "I assure you- this is a peaceful meeting!" With that, she leaped down into the crowd, the three with her following, far from afraid- far from defensive either.


Logan tailed Nikki- being far more than obvious, but he had no fears. Many people stalked and lurked among the shadows- he could simply pass it off as him endeavoring to rape her- any Demon would take that as a compliment. She walked rather slowly for his taste too- but she was up to no good. He expected her to go into the cafè- yet she just kept going- hanging a right and moving towards the Blood Bank. Yeah- she was going to see the Coven, Logan was certain- and it would make sense, seeing as they were allied. Yeah- Logan was certain, there she went- what?! She walked past the Blood Bank too- and took herself even across the large car lot- and finally into the North Gate district.

Logan was not stupid by any means- he knew where she was going- and he calls into his Vanguard comm, "James- Nikki is coming, headed to the base in North Gate, need any and all Guard to prepare for a fight." He sighs and takes off down and alleyway- this was going to get ugly- perhaps Logan would get to shoot someone, been rather dry lately for him- no one coming in the Zodiac and all. As he looks over the hill- through the chain link fence he sees Nikki- speaking to Shyann- and a tall pale woman with large swords strapped to her back. "Fuck me-" He mutters under his breath, speaking into the comm again.

James had yet to respond- but he sent out another warning, "Hey umm- I see Shyann too, and,.. Ishtar if I am getting my names right- they are about four hundred yards West-" Logan was then cut off by a pissed off looking Erica. "So- mind tellin' me what you are doing,.. out here mister?" She was about average height- dressed far different than any vampire Logan was used to- the dresses and tuxedos- no Erica wore camouflage jeans and a t-shirt, simply so. She had brown eyes- soft- and a rather puffy cheeked face- yet she was as thin as a starving cougar. Logan simply grunted and shook his head, "Just doin' my job- s'all."

Erica simply cracks her knuckles and lunges forward, sending two fingers for pressure points along his sides and neck- six motions- six thuds- and she moves with supernatural speed. Erica stops, crouched in front of him- waiting to see him crumple. The suit he wore- liquid sheer, it absorbed impact and turned the fluid inside into a hardened surface- used for bullets and punches- or in Erica's case, quick pressure point attacks. He chuckles and reaches for a pistol at his side- "The fuck I ain't no tickle me fucking Elmo."

Erica sends her hand forward- grabbing the gun from his grip again with blinding speed- yet Logan was already holding a pistol to her forehead, similar speed. "Listen hunny- you must have had a long day- I suggest fucking off." She sends forward a chuckle- and then a hiss, her arm cocking back- merely a blur to human eyes. With a shuffle and a crash- Kesia tackles Erica aside as Logan braces more strikes from the Vampiress. He had closed his eyes for only a brief moment- with relief to reopen them on the scene, Kesia pressing a baseball bat to the brown-eyed undead's throat.

Not a word could be said, he cocks back the pistols in turn and gives a few quick steps forward- the Commander's vice on the quick and deadly Elder fading as she hissed again and pushed the bat away with super human strength. He points the pistol squeezing the trigger four times at the pair- he was as much an amazing shot as any gunsliger, sending little holes into Erica's ribcage, thigh, and forearm. He flares his nostrils and twitches his eye- with his act of desperation, Erica rolls aside Kesia to block Logan's aim.

This was his Commander- he risked her already with the little stunt he had just pulled- but no more, he reaches back for his comm- gun in hand, "James- you fuck stick,.. sir,.. need you to respond- Kes and me-" Kesia hollers, "LOGAN!" He grunts, "Okay- Just Kes- is pinning down a Coven fuck- she tried to jump me- I am sure we are totally obvious." There is a little blip and some static- and quickly the voice of James crackles into the earpiece, "Storm,...*static*,.. interfer-,..*static*,..stay awa-,.." And then it was gone. They were so close, if not without shouting distance of the makeshift hospital of a base they had- yet,.. James was seemingly far away or underground.

He had taken his attention away briefly, if only momentarily, and looks back to Kesia beating Erica across the face left and right with the metal bat, screaming out, "Stay- Down- bitch!" Fiery alright, that attitude could set a forest ablaze. The noise was no hidden happening- the gunshots- the screaming, and bounding the fence was Ishtar, a whopping seven feet tall- dual wielding bastard swords. Logan didn't have to think about this one- he tosses his long slides aside and grabbed for the carbine on his back. Kesia was distracted- Ishtar's first thought was to help Erica- her friend and Elder.

She roars out and sends a boot to Kesia's side, whom is sent sprawling and crumpled aside Erica- bringing the bat up to shield herself from the eminent swings of giant two-handers. Logan was fiercely protective of his Leaders- the pair of them, and Kesia was in no position to be ordering him otherwise. The blonde haired man whipped the rifle around and tugged the switch on the front, the long tube beneath the barrel clicking- and he calls out smugly, "Go long- fuckbitch." And he pulls the trigger- a mounted grenade launcher popping and rocking the undead woman in the chest.

Ishtar shrieks- Logan expected her in pieces all over the district- yet, she stood there, a large black burn on her bust line- no hole no pieces. "The,.. fuck,." He growls and flips the first switch on the rifle- and unloads, thirty round clip expending itself in a blaze- his aim true to her head and neck. The bullets ripped into her pale skin- making tiny sickening thuds- but not taking chunks as he expected, and finally he was forced to reload or run. "You - HAVE- to be fucking,.. ugh." She lunges- sending a blade in an upward motion for his chin.

Logan was not invincible- but he was hardy, he brings the rifle sidelong downward to block the blade- it being cleaved in two and his face being gashed- a huge chunk torn away. The splash of blood hits her peppered surface and she grunts- Logan not even crying out in pain. Logan had one last trick up his sleeve - and he would be damned if he went out like this- but Nikki closed in on them, Shyann and now Vice in rank with her. They didn't run- they simply walked with a brisk pace- even following the sidewalk until they got to the hill- and they found the top with ease. Ishtar was not done- she would pull back and swing the flat of her blade for his knee- smashing it to a side and toppling him- this was surely an uncalled for brutality by the Coven in their eyes.

Kesia- having beaten the living piss out of Erica with her bat hauled off, cutting low for Ishtar's elbow- a little pop and her main hand sword is sent from her grip. The tall woman shrieks yet again- and spins, cutting high with her off-hand. The battle weary Commander ducks and tugs a pistol from her armpit holster, pointing it for the assaulting woman in front of herself. Shyann would not have it, however, and with a pitched curl of her voice she called out over the fray, "That is QUITE enough!"

Logan was clasping his face, but he looks up- to see Vice and Nikki wordless and calm behind Shyann, who was speaking- soft hands locked behind herself. Their stances alone gave away their mood, Nikki with her arms folded under her breasts- and Vice with his thumbs hooked into the belt loops of his jeans. "I would at least hope we wouldn't have to kill off -all- decent folk in this city Kes,.. tell me- are you up here trying to bring the war to your Guard as well?" She was to the point like Nasreen- yet proud and pitched different, almost as nasally as Ziau when he spoke. Kesia would lower her gun and step back- the freeze frame was goofy enough, but Ishtar also stood down- the holes in her skin already closed up and her right elbow beginning to snap back in place on it's own.

Logan went to his Commander's side- the conversation would have started, but the sky crackled above- thunder- it was going to rain. Rain in the post apocalypse era was deadly- acidic- and full of radiation. It burned your skin, singed the hair on your head and arms- far too much for the likes of their tiny group to handle without cover- all of them. Shyann would sigh, Kesia would even grit her teeth, and Nikki would speak up- "Seems we keep having interruptions - shall we take this elsewhere Marquise?" Her hand would drop back and the space behind her would tear- a gaping red colored portal opening for them to step through.

Shyann would speak up, "Erica- Ishtar, if you would,.." And she then levels her gaze on Kesia, "You might want to find shelter- storm's a brewin'- let it be known that if indeed you side with the Pack- you will be treated like they will be treated, like dogs- put down carelessly." She then turns, Erica- Ishtar- Vice- Nikki- and Shyann all disappearing into the portal, and finally is closes behind them. Logan and Kesia were far from defeated- simply worn, but the comm made sense- and they needed to get to the base- if the droplets were to pour- it would bring them nothing other than suffering.


Through the portal they stepped out in the confines of the Brood Queen chambers- two Arch Demonesses sitting perched atop spired thrones, looking down upon their masses. It was a dark and fiery hill they resided upon, and with that came the accessories of being out of their natural environment. The Earth herself had been sculpted to make their thrones look down over South Gate's district- the Coven homes an ocean in front of their onlooking perches. It was a fitting air for the small group- leaders of two interacting armies, Shyann and Charissa spoke softly and with respect to one another.

"Marquise- came in to get out of the downpour, I presume?" She chuckled darkly- the clouds didn't even overcast their thrones, no, those clouds belonged to Charissa. Shyann responded, her eyes full of mischief- but over joyous tone, "This calling of rain- it was bold- but do you honestly think it will stop the vermin? They will only be surprised, pissed, and more motivated to revolt." She was indeed questioning the thought of poison falling from the sky's effect on a Pack of wolves- but as simple as one could agree, Charissa simply turns to Dori and hears her speak. "The rain is only a slap to the face- a tug of their ear- our Demons will clean them from our city- and our world." As the other Queen spoke Charissa would laugh- dark evil laughter, her thin delicate hands clapping together. She was amused, Odorioko was amused, and Nikki was,.. simply amused.

There was a plan, a dark and sinister plan- a plan to take nature itself and turn it on the Pack, finally to move in on their shattered morale and cut them down while they howled to the bleeding sky above. Shyann knew this plan- their words were hollow- in the end, the plan would be put into motion. But, as the Brood Queen would speak, her words would only incite more of a dark and even blackened happening. She would hiss- one low sound and her eyes would light up with a red eerie glow, rivaled only by her ruby and apricot flecked skin. One by one, Vice- Shyann- Ishtar- and Erica all fell into her gaze as she hissed, and their skin began to wash over with an almost glittery sparkle- which faded and was drowned out by the forever night sky.

"That was,..?" Asked Vice- his voice confident still- yet not as much as he had been with anyone beside an Arch Demoness of the Brood. "Protection- from the rain." Charissa simply replied and leaned back in her throne- fighting back a yawn, only to mutter something under her breath to Dori. The Vampires knew that with the rainfall- there would be pain, hardship, and furthermore battle. Shyann bowed her head- Vice followed suit- and they turned, walking back towards the nearby but not subjected Nikki.


Portals in general could only carry some- and in smaller groups-, and with that they were tiring to make. This was a setback to those that planned to move an army, yet was a portal user. They were forced to get out of their customs of not having to travel- simply blink. The portal this time was made again by Nikki- but she did not follow, the small force of four stepped through and were hurled at the location they were set on walking to if the Flesh crafter weren't apt conjuring for their ease. The space bent and ripped, the little huddle stepping out- within earshot of the Pack- many Packs- surging and preparing, most focused on a tussle atop a roof in the distance.

There was no discussion- the clouds began to loom overhead, they rolled in and thunder cracked the sky. Shyann bent down- and dug both of her wands into the Earth around them- and with that- there was low hum as the rocks began to tremble. Ishtar- Vice- and Erica would crouch down too, guarding their fronts and faces, ready for what was to come, a cracking noise- a creaking- and then the snapping of stone being broken and dislodged. With that- Shyann crushes the rock with her magic, a loud pang- and boulders flew everywhere to the crowd below. They said their bits, stepped forward and leaped recklessly into the crowd of wolves- perhaps overconfident- perhaps knowing oh so well of what was to come.


The Pack didn't take kindly to the likes of their enemy plummeting down onto them- a front line bout began to unfold- opposite of the situation on the roof. Fist to step up was Quandri- obnoxious, some would simply say crazy beyond recognition. But she was loyal- she was a part of the family, and she would die for them if need be. She charges forward- an old fashioned helmet atop her head and he goes to gore Vice as he and the rest calmly walked towards the crowd of Pack. She meets nothing but Ishtar backhanding her away, and then laughing.

Quandri topples to a side, yelping a bit, but her soft and almost child-like voice rings out, growled, yet pitched all the same. "You gunna pay for dis- hurtin' mah family- dey is not done nfufin' to start dis, NUU!" She puffs up her tail and leaps to her feet- she was a whimsical one. She had pure white fur, thick knee highs that were only gaping between her tiny skirt which covered nothing at all. Her face was that of a feral- and her eyes that of a woman. Loyal as ever she hops back up and yanks her helmet off. Under the canopy of metal was her mess of hair- perhaps styled or just messy by natural.

Arcueid was close in flank, a chainsaw being tugged from her back- and rumbling loudly over the commotion. "We is gun' make dis a mess- yeah?" She said to her inseparable friend, Arc not being far off of Quandri- save for her pink hair and giant backpack full of god knows what. The Pack had it's crazies- it mothers- it's lost romantics- and it's dramatics. The Coven surely could relate, as Shyann perked a brow and Erica just face palmed. Vice mutters, "Enough- we came to take charge, us four, versus you all- and not a single one will stand." With that the rain started to fall, falling against the skin of the Lycans and Vampires alike. First to feel the burn was the wolves of the far East coast- their thin fur and scrawny frames did nothing but soak the acidity and finally bubble painfully over.

The screams were heard for so long- so far- it was a painful rainfall. Unholy- conjured- lacking the moisture to be even the least bit watered down. All noxious and purely evil- the work of the Arch Demonesses themselves. The sky would crack and it would spill over- Ziau's eyes snapped shut and his canvas of a Soviet history being battered and finally boiled with the application of radiation and harmful fluid. He would howl out- the pain so much for any one man to bear, and as he screamed- all of the wolves around him screamed.

Some had escaped- many actually- as the first clouds came into view- yet- it rolled in so fast, within a matter of minutes even, there was less and less time to react. Milana- his mate- his love- his wife had encased herself in her shadow, using her well trained magic to shield the precipitation away, and finally she turns to Ziau- am overhang of her shell stopping the painful downpour from hitting him further. "We need to get inside, or you are going to wind up all gooey and scaly like Sloan!" She couldn't resist a joke at such a crucial time- but Ziau's burning began to cease- if at all remaining only a tinge.

Shyann was on a rampage, her wands away- a long sacrificial dagger drawn as she stormed through the rainfall- through the crumpled suffering wolves and hacking them by the throat and the spine. She was in heaven- a field day- killing with little effort- taking the lives of the filthy mutts she looked down on so much. Ishtar stood over the pair of Jean and Castalia- the humans of the Pack- thorns in her side , the both of them. She raised her swords- ready to strike only to be stopped by a loud creak and a fence falling atop her. The tall chain link around the grounds they fought upon was being brought down by the pair of Arc and Quandri- toppling a section and moving on.

It was making an awning for some- groups huddled underneath the plated pieces between the linking- at least the drips seeping through being less than the full force of the falling poison. Quandri hisses out and chucks a bag of,.. yes,.. flour for the head of Ishtar and calls out, "You ish bested!" No one could tell if it was insanity or strength that fueled the pair- Arc and Quandri- but the rain didn't make them scream or boil- they walked through it like it was not such an issue, though their outer layer bubbled like an infected wound.

The barbarian of a woman hisses and faces them, calling back, "You will regret those very words!" And she began to march at them- Arc dropping back and under- "We gotta fink of something!" But Quandri was already acting- the large metal poles that held up the fencing was scaled by her and she worked with a block of what seemed to be C4. Using the post as an advantage she leaped, not a word to be said- and hurls herself at Ishtar. The lumbering woman- tall- pale- she was knocked back and to a heap on the ground, giving a tiny snort- but then Quandri said her goodbyes, "Cheezepoof!" And there was an explosion.

Arc widened her eyes, her friend- gone- sacrificed for the sake of her family- and the families across the continent. Twenty huddled Lycans using their makeshift aluminum awning as shelter. Milana drags Ziau towards it- but Vice cuts her off. His fist hits the little Fae in the brow- cocks back and again driving into her cheek. She squeaked with each hit- her shell falling back and tucking around her to keep her from splashing into a noxious puddle. Ziau snarls, the rain- fuck the rain, no one touches his woman. Ziau lunges at Vice, shoulder to gut- and sends him into the ground. Just as Milana had avoided Ziau takes to the face- painful rainfall splashing up and around them as it puddled. The grass that existed was withering- the rocks and buildings were being stripped of their paint and decoration. Ungodly as it was- this was warfare, the Earth could burn if it meant victory to either side.

Ziau doesn't stop, he contorts his hands into clawed Lycan paws- ripping at the Demon's chest, only to quiver and feel weakness sweep over his frame. He was being pressure pointed by Erica- rushing to Vice's side in the fray. Milana- his love- his world, she sputters and calls out, "Fuck off of him!"With that, she draws her shotgun. All four feet and then some of her height was easily mocked by this gun- a large tactical shotgun that sent her back a few steps when she fired it- which she did- at Erica, all seven buckshot rounds.

Rocked by every single blast, Erica is sent in an unbleeding heap beside the struggle, Vice's body flinging forward- driving Ziau on his back, A fist would cock back, blast the Russian Gray's jaw- then his eye socket- and again the other side of his jaw. Punch after punch hit Ziau- and Milly had no skill with reloading. She tosses the gun aside- her weapon- and rushes to collide with Vice- bashing her fists into his shoulder and head. It was like child punches to the demon though- thump after thump as he kept brutally slamming Ziau's face with balled weapons of fury and little to no remorse.

Vice didn't even notice her there- in fact- he simply chuckled as she tried- the rain starting to break her shell and singe into her soft and delicate skin. Ziau- however- he pulled himself from his slump, grunted and spit a mouth of poison and life- finally, headbutting the shit out of Vice. His forehead connects with the bridge of the man's nose- stopping his assault, and with that success he headbutts again. This time he gets him on the lip and busts it- hot Demon blood trickled down Vice's front and he paused- actually amazed Ziau was even alive.

If it were not for Castalia and Jean- Ziau and Milana would have faded- gone- but in a blaze of all it was worth- Cas shielded herself and Jean, as he charged in and slashed wildly at the hunched Demon atop Ziau. Vice reacted briskly, taking a long gash to his middle back,then another between his shoulder blades- finally a third along his collarbone as he turned to face the wild and heroic human- Ashbringer he called himself. Milly was so relieved, she threw herself on top of her mate, encasing them both in the black ink of their Shadow Stepper bond- protecting him from anything and everything.

Castalia would duck and weave as Vice sent his all at her- punches- kicks- whips from his demon tail- all of it. She was showing her true finesse, her skilled craft of combat prowess- as well as her magical properties, keeping a bent ray of barrier above the pair. Jean would move with her- assaulting Vice accordingly, finally giving him one last spirited lunge. They collided like two tsunamis- Jean grappling him, the blade across the Demon's chest, and Vice muscling him literally into the soaked ground like he did Ziau- sending burning pain up the human's front and along his face.

Seemingly down and out for the both, Cas keenly reaches for her sword, her right hand steadying her canopy- she dips and jams her blade into Vice's chest. There is a sputter and he falls to a side, off of Jean- and out of action. She crouches and tosses her sword aside, quickly looking to Jean, "Are you alright?" But Jean- he was resilient as ever, his tortured face and front, his pain, all of it nothing. He replies, "G-got that f-fuck good, hell y-yeah." She would smirk but the fight had one last combatant.

Shyann was furiously slashing away at wolves one by one. Scarlet was outraged- safely under the lip of the Bunker's overhang- no she was not waiting inside like a good girl this time- she tugs Taien's sword free and rushes out into the fray. Taicat was protecting his child- his mate- he called out, almost desperately, "No- WAIT!" Taien was not going to let her go along- he too took the burn, rushing out after her. Shyann was blood drunk, her knife taking life after pathetic life- her face dampened but unaffected- lit up and grinning ear to ear.

She would see however- rushing her, sword held so oddly in arm, Scarlet pouncing and jutting the tip at her. With the rainfall so painful and draining there was one chance- one shot to stop the Bloodwitch. Taien cries out and breaks a sprint as he sees Scarlet collide with the kill happy Shyann. He fights off the painful way his flesh was battered- broken- and singed from the toxic rain, and finally- the rain stopped. He was leaned over Scarlet and Shyann, his hair dripping with the ungodly substance- the sensation shooting up his fingertips as he tugged them apart. Scarlet had taken the dagger to the ribcage- Shyann the sword to the shoulder. Neither was dead- but wounded- in pain. Scarlet didn't make a sound- but Shyann grumbled, reaching for her wands.

She was stopped by a wounded and weary Vice- his bleeding chest seeping his fiery plasma- he simply helped her to her feet. The sword was tugged free and they embraced- successful- but at what cost? Taien spoke to Scarlet with worry- love in his voice, "Wh-why,.. you should have let me do it, what abou-" Scarlet cut him off with a gentle pat to the cheek, "Shush- it's done." Out of the ocean of fifty- no more than half were alive and well. Most of them were original Pack- Nasreen's corps, The Forsaken extinct and Checker deceased amongst the corpses. That was it- the Packs united put to an end by rainfall and four Coven warriors.

It was not embarrassing- more sad- more a message that the Brood would need so much opposition to be stopped- the four Coven barely alive themselves. Nasreen approached, her head held high- she speaks to Shyann and only Shyann, "You see- pawns- when the Brood finishes us they will discard you as they did to us. You are being used Shyann- the four of you to take our battalion?" Her voices was stern- but pained- the loss was great, and the lives lost made her chest ache with sorrow.

Ishtar, burnt, barely able to move her thin limbs- swords and most of her clothing long gone- but alive- she moves to the huddle of Vice and Shyann. Erica- a piece of Swiss cheese by surface, she had already healed- but she was weary, tired from battle and mending her own flesh alone- she too stood in awe with Shyann, Vice, and Ishtar. The group was at least happy there could be an end- how it all stopped so suddenly- and the surviving wolves closed in.

"This is the end Shyann- with no rainfall- you are helpless, four on forty- you will be CRUSHED for what you did to us," said Tain- his voice strong now, his fingers- though screaming in pain, wrap the hilt of his discarded sword he had retrieved. He was feet from the group and he pointed it at them, "No last words before I hack you all down for this- ALL of this?" The fury rose up- the rage- the feeling that no matter what happened, his purpose was to stomp those four bodies into the ground.

Before Shyann could reply there was a long roll of evil laughter- Eianna- unmistakably so. With that came words- and a face, "Well- seems that the Pack can function without their skin- or their pride,.. I will be happy to finish the rest- where you failed-Witch." She was of course accompanied- the Brood with her- onlooking and now surrounding the scene- their weapons at the ready- and their eyes all as deep and unforgiving as the next. Demon Sloan- Nova- Nort- Michel- Nikki- and Luden, no Queens, simply their cabal.

02/07/09 12:11
CharissaOne word...

02/07/09 14:42
DarkMajikJesus .. this shit needs to be published..02/07/09 16:05
NasreenIt's brilliant, Ziau. AMAZING fic.02/07/09 17:07
Adaire DeCuirWell done, Ziau!! This is quite a gift to the community, as it interweaves the stories of many quite beautifully. Remind me to start calling you "The Bard." :)02/07/09 17:13
KesEpic.02/07/09 18:16
WodenWow. It's cinematic. Beautiful work Ziau. Visually riveting and very strong storyline.02/07/09 18:54
ScarletThat is AWESOME Ziau,
Scar's such a badass in this story <3

I want more!!
02/07/09 19:44
Justify[color=green][b]/me hopes his name gets into the next installment. (hint)[/b][/color]02/07/09 21:14
ZiauYeah if I am not including you it means I don't RP much with you so I don't KNOW your character- I can't properly portray you. This isn't true for EVERYONE as it follows a select bunch- Part 3 is going to be done within the week- but I want to get a speculation for more characters.

A PEEK at who will be in the next part as far as I know- Dreexo and James as a duo defending the hospital, I would LIKE to get Dori doin' what she does best, and I wanna get Suzanna- as Suz is the entire backdrop for the apocalypse. Well- no one really gets to RP with Suz, as she is constantly busy with CoLA's care and such, but I do mention her "Their Reagent".

More people- definitely more stories to interlace, probably the Syndacite and more of the Tribe, even the Choir- But the Pack can't get beat down forever- there will be, I SWEAR TO YOU, the Pack getting what's their's in Part3.
02/07/09 21:51
KCCaseepic nuff said02/07/09 23:43
Erica KesselNice, I got beaten to a pulp with a bat and then later shotgunned.

I wasn't going to mention this, but since you abused me so eyes haven't been brown since September :P
02/08/09 00:29
Ziau[quote=Erica Kessel]Nice, I got beaten to a pulp with a bat and then later shotgunned.

I wasn't going to mention this, but since you abused me so eyes haven't been brown since September :P[/quote]
HEY- sorry CoLA is grayscale, the last I saw you outside lag they were brown- and hey,.. the Pack gets the snot kicked out of them constantly in my story- you should feel honored to get your shit pushed in :V
02/08/09 01:22
Justify[color=green][b]lol @ "getting your shit pushed in". Reminds me of high school.[/b][/color]02/08/09 02:34
ZiauROFL Justy- I am almost tempted to make a comment- then again- we're all a little bit Justy inside.02/08/09 04:11
MarkusChristopherAwesome Ziau but i expected no less from you :)02/08/09 04:42
Kaly_DOh. My. God. I think the epic-ness of that has left me.. aroused? Ziau why are you not an author*? [*edit: novelist, rather. And I suppose I don't know your not.] Although the editors would likely send any submissions back demanding you remove all hyphens. :P

But that is truly amazing.
02/08/09 09:46
ZiauYeah- this is just a hobby of mine, but yes Hyphens are my plague- I use them so much, instead of commas or periods.02/08/09 20:48
LoganZiau. I have a new forum title. That is all.02/08/09 21:23
ZiauIf I could take all this pain away
Use the RAGE of the youth today
Who’s to say that it’s you to blame?
It’s the people above you
The ones who say that they love you
Look what the world has come to
So now it’s time to say FUCK YOU
If you they care, then they drug you
And no ones there when they numb you
Fill will you terror and crush you
Pretend they care as they shove you
So you look to me to find the truth
And what I say is what you do
But everyone you look up to
Is really as fucked up as you
Time is getting shorter
With these enforced disorders
And we get blamed to pushed around
Whos the fuckin’ villain now?

Charlie Scene, - Pain by Hollywood Undead -


You would expect it, the trumpets to sound with their own wave two to the forces of Hell below. But perhaps that evening God was tired, perhaps his eyes were closed or perhaps his steady and forgiving hand was a closed fist- folded in his lap- or even tucked away in his almighty pocket. There was no sound of relief from above, Hell was loosed on the world freely, unmistakably so. One would complain, call this an act of being forsaken- one would call this the power faltering and the balance of the skies themselves shifting. But in the end, the rain had fallen- and it burned, the rain had fallen and it stripped the flesh from the backs and heads of those below.

Many had passed, many had joined the ranks of Hell- yet some were passed by as simple hunters, motivation for in their next lives to rest peacefully or be a soldier beneath Charissa's ranks. These mortal men becoming again mortal- part of a Leigon or part of a lazy un-commanded flock of birds, these very men were the ones who saw battle first. The flames would lick their unshaped and unsheltered bodies, ruby skin with a pair of ruby horns- these were what fueld the forces.

When the Brood had marched on the Aracadia fields- the balance had been tipped, the Pack challenged, and the sky itself strewn into pieces. Commands had been challenged, pride, and good will. There was no such idea of where the whole field of corpses was to be dealt with, and every dagger and sword wound had closed up with Mother Earth's mending tears. Those same tears that Charissa had brought upon them, the same tears that burned- scolded- and scabbed. This was the Pack's rising- and the Coven's step back- and to the Brood's dismay, the rebound of reckoning.


Eianna's azure gaze was that of a Queen's- yet she was under the boot of what really controlled the madness and the surging of an uprising- tonight all of the stakes would be raised, yet Eianna, she had no idea. Her axes were at her side, the demons around her weapons drawn- and they onlooked the Aracadia field, the mountain formation, the bunker- and the dieing Pack. Every one of them tired, and with that she took a few steps forward- the sound of her tight blue latex bodysuit giving sickening squeeks, thigh rubbing along thigh. She would chuckle and not look back- as the army behind her was restless, they wanted more blood- more souls- and feast they would, in due time.

Perfect in figure, her breasts mostly visible through the separation of her unzipped skinsuit. Her navel peeked out and her areola played tease to either side of the metal teeth, a divide that could easily be made further by bending or twisting to either side. Eiannna was certain- she was confident- and she was ready. The Pack ended here, the Pack would suffer, the Pack would fall to her and where Shyann had failed, she would do alone. "Brood, I will handle this, don't even click a claw on this piss scented field." She was still confident- barely shed a word to the cause, only if it benefited or belittled her onlookers.

She would keep her hips swaying, the wolves worn, beaten, and huddled up in little groups all around in front of her peripherals. With a tiny jerk of each of her palms- the sky would crackle again, everyone winced, but there was no more. Charissa was a cold and unrelenting war power- and every time the sky made a sound, every time Mother Earth were to give a hiccup or burp, moan or wail, the wolves would cringe and hide in fear. They had been betrayed- the cooling rainfall that would cleanse their bodies and their fur, it had bled on them- burned them- and it was as if Hell itself were above and Heaven were below.

Eianna came to the edge of the people- most dead- most wounded, and she simply turned up her nose. The scent, she could smell it- blood- noxious rain- and tears. She looked to her flank, there was Shyann, gripping a wound on her shoulder- patching it up, and with that Eianna would smirk. What could she say, defeated, even if only four of them, they were over-confident, with good reason. But now, Eianna herself would show them the meaning of confidence- no failure was to be permitted- these wounded mutts would be put through no euthanasia.

Eianna was feet from her first victim, a pained and wheezing Flatplain wolf, he was near death and sickly- the poison had destroyed his lungs and his skin. He wanted to die, it was her purpose- her calling- to end his suffering, with that she would swings her axe with deadly intent. High- for the skull, trying to crack him open and see his inner turmoil spill into the puddles and browend greenery. The first initial sound was that of a man yelling- not a wolf, his brow cleaved in two, Eianna's axe dug deeply into what would bleed his frontal end. She drew that main-hand back and sent it forward again, this time the bone splitting- thick lycan bone- and he would not yell or sob, he would be ended, and Eianna's satisfaction had only begun.

A helpless giggle later, she would turn, look across the bleeding and sorrow strewn yard - the rocks, the bunker, the wolves, the sky, the Earth, everything- scarred by the rain. This was Eianna's most prized moment, the Blue Temptress, a Demon of finer taste and no time to waste on foolery. She would put an end to the first of their procalimed enemies- the wolves that inhabbited this rock in space- covered in water and filth. This would be the Brood's playground, this would be the Brood's new home, this would be the Brood's Earth. Her eyes locked now of Frost, knelt- a delicate looking wolf, knock-kneed and silent mostly, a little yellow umbrella still held above her head- though weakly.

Her steps were heard- squeeks of latex on latex, the hungry eyes of the Demons behind her- she would make them wait- for her. They could stand there in their row, an army, amassed- ready, they could stand there all fucking knight if she so much as wished it- Eianna was no uncarried Brood figurehead. Three feet from Frost she would grin, "Well now- do look up at me, I wish to see your eyes when I finish you- puppy." And Puppy she was, young, soft, tattoos of stars all along her body- cute duck-cladden rain boots on her footpaws, and long hair that draped her eyes and hid the pain she was feeling rise up in her chest. Frost would be saved, no miracles- kinship, Alfonsa's voice would call from across the plain, "Leave her alone, snake."

It was a confident mutter- it hit the atmosphere and resonated in Eianna's ears, the brave cry of a friend helping a friend. Fonzie crossed her arms in front of her long jacket- leather set in the same tone as her deep tan skin. She too had tattoos of stars, along her hips, along her navel, under her bustline and disappearing into her garbs so that only imagination could set the limit of her ink. Long black hair was along her shoulders- her eyes oceans of furious yet steady confidence she would call out, "You leave her alone- quit being a coward and preying on the wounded." Oh Fonzie was a brave one- shy in some social situations, but never afraid of saving her kind the pain.

Eianna, you would expect her to haul off and crush poor Frost's skull- destroy that life and move on- but she was simply amused. These wounded animals dared speak in any tone to her- she simply turns to face Fonize, smirking and licking her azure lips. "Rea-" She got off half of a syllable, and then a pulse of energy licked her cheek and sent her hurling onto her back. It was as if the world had revolted around her- punched her, sent her onto her back. Her axes clattered to her sides- a warrior dropping their weapons was no laughing matter, it meant them genuinely pained- taken off-guard.

The puddle she crashed in burned her flesh, soaked into her eyes, along her cheeks and sent her bare and exposed front into bubbling and sizzling burning sensations. Her breasts had popped from her suit- her arms too, the latex hung on her like a broken and torn glove, around her hips as she stood- the pert stubby nipples unharmed by the splash of toxic precipitation. She raised her eyes to look at the source, three figures standing in a little line- their faces not as familiar as most- but that scent,.. was,.. was that rum?

"Best go get you a rag and clean yo'-self up,.. biiiiiitcccccch!" Oh that voice, tinged Russian- cocky- almost unintelligable. It seemed to be Ziau, yet the slang, oh yes- you would be right to guess. Sinthorn, Ziau's good for everything brother- the wild and wily Cartel Lycan was standing alongside the ringleader of the city's drug operation. Pusher was his name, a fedora over his head, circle spectacles that housed his deep emerald eyes which gleamed when he looked along his nose's bridge at the scene. Shakuzen was to the other side, a seeming feral what one would guess, was also Lycan. Shakuzen was decked in camoflauge, grenades on his belt, and a syringe in hand.

Pusher had fired the pulse at her- a long technical piece of weaponry over his shoulder, and his lips curled into a smirk. Sinthorn, he looked just like Ziau, but with black hair he always dyed blonde- dark tan and not rosy tan skin, his eyes not red and feral, but blue and tempted by the finer things of a human life. He also had ears along his face- where his human ears belonged, like Ziau- with a long spotted gray tail, just like his brother. Sinthorn was a gift from god to the Pack, never on their side- unless he simply felt like it- and what Sinthorn wielded was seemingly on par with a Demon- Soviet Russian RPG-7, slung over his shoulder.

"Who the fuck are you?" a pissed off and now provoked Eianna would ask- the Brood stirring behind her, but still unmoving. Sinthorn would use his left- free hand to poke his thumb out, and dig it into his own chest, all the while, snickering. "I'm fucking amazing." With those words Pusher would chuckle and give a little chime in- loud enough so that he was heard, "We're,.. fucking amazing." Eianna would find no amusement in the Lost Beach Cartel crowd- infact Shakuzen worked with Stormy in the Collective, but he was a hardy Dockmaster for the Cartel in Little China- a nearby town that made up some of the newest Lost Angels shopping and recreaton.

"You are dead- that is what you are." Eianna would say, her half-bare body tempting to a human's eye. Her breasts were larger than any had seen- her curves seductive and as most other female depicted Demons, intoxicating to the common once-over. She would step at them briskly, her hands gripping her axes once again- her chest giving bounces as she stepped, this was all noticed - yes, by Sinthorn. He would gape his mouth a bit and let his tongue hang out, eyeing Eianna's chest hungrily- "I wanna touch those," he would mutter.

As Sin gawked, Eianna would storm through the mass of hunched and battered Lycan bodies- Pack and Brood alike just staring in wonder. Fonzie had crouched down by the verbally abused Frost, her voice low as she began to speak about the situation to her. Eianna, however was locked onto Sinthorn and the other two, her axes lumbering, body gleaming as it's natural repair had already fixed the damaged and burned surface. Pusher would elbow the lust-struck wolf in the ribcage, "Eyes off the prize please."

Pusher would fire the other four bullets in his clip- the pulses of his EMP rifle sounding off with loud electronic bursts. Eianna had no time for games, her eyes gave a flash, then a strengthening glow- the rounds hitting her dead in the chest, neck, and jaw- doing literally and actually nothing. "You gotta be-" And Eianna broke the gap with an unnaturaly fast step. Her first axe would cut the barrel from the long pulse rifle, and the second would send for Pusher- his syringe gauntlet coming up and blocking the blow with a sickening crunch. Pusher wouldn't wince in pain- simply gaze up at her, there was no blood, but that edged weapon had surely snapped his arm's bone in half and broke the skin.

Where his blood should have been, when the syringes contents had already trailed down his arm- a mixture of reds, golds, and deep mucky blacks and browns- emerald fluid was gently trickling from beneath the spot of contact. Eianna was already bringing her first weapon up to swing on him again and he doesn't move- simply takes the edged weapon to the bare side of his head. The cut cleaved the hat from his head, his hair a mohawk underneath, a tattoo of his name etched into his skull. The weapon she swung had landed between the U and S in Pusher- her eyes gleamed in victory.

Pusher, however would simply smirk, "What is in my veins- it will be your undoing." And with that, Pusher's gauntlet fell off from where her second strike had broken it's clamp on his wrist- from his skull and from his forearm, thre was bright emerald fluid in place of where his blood should be. "The grass is always greener," Pusher would mutter and tug his arm free. Eianna- Eianna was in shock about the whole deal, a man who had just mocked her through a blow to the head, and now- he backhanded her across the face.

It was scented like a Brompton cocktail, many drugs and medical wastes all in a slushy muck of deadly inheritence. His blood, was indeed, a cocktail- a mixture of so many drugs he had developed- abused- and consumed for the better part of his mortal life, and now was, in his immortal. His backhand would give Eianna's Demon blood a little sway when it was soaked into her gleaming skin- where they generally found themselves uneffected by substance- this was beyond human resilience- and even daemon resistence.

Eianna's hand would slip from both of her weapons- and her vision would blur. The axes both- would slip from his wounds and clamour to the acid damp mess of dead weed below his feet, and with that- Eianna would fall back. When she hit the ground- her thump and little splash was heard through the now numbing silence, the Brood watched in awe as Eianna too- failed to end the Pack. This was the final straw- an intoxicated and unconscious Brood Exalted, the Demons would no longer stand by.

With a hiss the soldier Demons would break rank- pouring into the field, a hundred strong- rushing past the stone wall of pitcrawling figureheads. Puhser would glance up and see the faces of them- Nort with his lip curled up, Sloan flapping his wings but making no noise- Nikki with her scowl narrowed, Michel- for what it was worth- his arms folded gently in front of himself and his expression blank and unreadable, and finally Nova with her giant blade- her tentacles folded back- glaring at the scene. Footwork was loud, and the Pack in the field began to rush the bunker- away from the fray.

Sinthorn, for once, was the first to act- sending a rocket to the oncoming crowd- his aim wild and uncaring- sending a five clump of daemon into the air, or in pieces. Soldier Demons were fresh, barely trained- pawns that would not ever see Charissa's throne room for it's enjoyment and recreation. Pusher would crouch down, his head hung low, but from behind Shakuzen would jab one of his own creations into his neck- no warning, Pusher already knew it was coming.

The mixture in his veins would melt the needle's end- but the adrenaline in his system- the drugs- would mix with the vial of R.A.G.E Shakuzen had given him. With a loud snarl Pusher would take off for the frontline. One after another he would slam into soldier after soldier. He would send his fist -through- a face and out the back of their head, into their gut and let the boiling demon blood burn his wrist. The amount of strength in his system made him daunting- and with that you could see their expressions change.

Sinthorn would watch Pusher from the distance- snort and mutter, "Som' bitch- ain' doin' this on his own." The RPG, Cartel weapon of choice, would be strewn aside. The rockets would be unstrapped from his back- and his sword would be drawn. It was a machete- worn- unclean and flecked with gore. Sin rushed the mob- now surrounding this super-human Pusher. "The wolves you idiots!" Nort would call, his hands then coming from his oversized trench coat- it was an M-32 grenade launcher, the word, "Hellhound" spray painted along the barrel.

No one would stop Nort's adavance, he tromped towards them, the group- soldiers being tossed aside like rag dolls by Pusher's bare and brutal force. Nort cared not for the lower ranks below him- minions- useless, and he would start firing off clusters into the crowd with pangs and pops. The bombs would break apart and scatter- blasting and singing anyone below- six rounds and with that, he would snort and stare at the newly kicked up dust cloud until it dispersed. "Handled like a man- pathetic fucks."

When the haze was cleared, Pusher would be on his back, arms strewn- the Soldiers levelled with him, but Sinthorn was knelt- machete the only thing holding him up. Sinthorn panted- defeated- but the Pack was safe, at least he had saved what was left of the wolves- now retreated behind their bunker's runes. "Y-yeah,.. welcome to Loserville,.. p-population,.. y-you, bitch." Sin would mutter, his eyes fierce, his skin blackened and blistered. One hundred soldiers of the Hell's Leigon- war dogs- useless fodder, all put down. Eianna's body wouldn't remain unnoticed, Shakuzen hunched over her and jabbing her with needles as she was out cold and unable to stop him with his prods and pokes.

Nort would bring his eyes up to this and hold the launcher in his right hand- while his left unholstered a machine pistol. He would level the gun, his locks of hair hanging sinister in nature along his cowboy hat's brim. He would squeeze the tigger and ring out a five round burst. The bullets would crash with the hunched figure- a sickening thud as each dug in and sent him forward, a yowl sounding out as he was hit from behind. Nort would chuckle and tuck the gun away into an armpit holster and go back to two-handing the M-32. When he looked back- Sinthorn was gone.

"Wh-" Before he could end the sentence he roared out- like a lion, the Lycan had Pusher over one shoulder- Shakuzen over the other, howling out, "REETTTRREEEAAAAATTTT!" Why chase them, he grumbles- the torn apart corpses of daemonkin and wolfkin alike- all crumpled and blow apart from Nort's rain of explosion and napalm. He watches Sinthorn ride off into the sunset, his rescue complete- but he was in no condition to be handling the rest. Eianna would come to, her regeneration succumbing the pulse of drug in her veins- she was not clean- but she was awake. Gently, slowly she would stand- the rainwater on her skin this time soaked in and giving her little scabbed blisters along her nack- jawline- and bustline. She retrieved her axes and woozily then hobbled back to the remaining Brood.

It was honor, if at least they fought in droves- fought with Hell's fury- a Demon liked to take on many more than one at a time. Watching herself go off and nearly succeed- but spiral into slight failure- this was far more a wound than her blisters and scars- and yet- the Brood would face upsets before the war got thicker. They would march back to the city and inform Charissa that the battle was a failure- the rain was effective, yet it didn't end the seemingly pain-destined Pack. Shyann and her trio would return to the beachfront- Lost Beach- to recuperate, and put their next plan into motion, a plan possibly more dire than rainfall bloodbath.


The bunker was the Ellis Island of Lost Angels- full of the sickly, the poor, and those without a home- coming from a far off place and losing their everything- their Pack. The Flatplain people were no cowards- they would stick with the fight, use the comms, give their names- and be a part of every dealing they had been subjected to. Before the week was out- they would be joined- all the Packs would, and relief would be simple. Apocalypse was now, this was the coming of all's end- everything's beginning- where it would wind up, no one could specifically pull out of a hat- but things looked grim.

The bustle was loud, a murmur, a setting of disgust and worry- a time of pain- suffering- but they were lifted. 'Ro, it was whispered, muttered, spoken among the crowd- there he stood, on the famous wooden table- the podium, his eyes ablaze- normally a silent wolf, he was furious- and yet,.. he was back. "I did some thinking-" he would start with, "And leaving you all to fight this war alone- this is not what I was seeking, and I swear to you- alongside Taien and Nasreen- alongside all of you- I will keep us from faltering." His words were few- but powerful- enough to encourage the wolves among them to look up and briefly forget their wounds. As their Lycan regeneration closed them up- fixed them- repaired them, it was time.

Taien would climb up and stand beside him, eyes sunken and unforgiving- yet he spoke so that an army could be moved- enthralled- and exhilirated. "This war,.. it has been nothing but us being beaten while we prepared- but,.. this WAR is here- so, tonight- we take the WAR,.. to THEM!" He would snarl, and finally a shower of barks. From 'Ro- from Taien- from the wounded and broken Ziau- his mate Milly, from Nasreen- from them all. From Frost and Fonize- from Blaze and Maes and Kaiede, from heartbroken Arc- from the human pair of Castalia and Jean- from Celtic, from Nickolas. Chasity would bark, Scarlet would bark-Vixy and Macca would bark, Beth would snap and snarl- Ludvig would bark. Frank would call out, Beth would yowl, Circe and Leonora would perk their ears and prepare to add to the noise.

Ash and Ala would call out with their human voices- too soft to be bothered with the wolf chortles, Thursday and Spider would bark too. Nequael would nod her head, Ace would chuckle and give a little, "Good show," among the murmur. Justify would give a loud mrrowl- his neko heritage not far from the primal wolf, only a fox away. Devlin would bark, Tao would bark, Katrina herself would bark- and finally but not the least in this array of voices- Eveline would bark with Despina close behind her throated cry. Riadu, once Coven and now fighting alongside the furrier of his friends- he would hiss as well. The army of Pack near and far would bark- and all together they would howl- they wanted blood- and by the immortal words of AC/DC- if you want blood, you got it.


The slums of the city never slept- like a post-meteor Los Angeles, like New York, or Atlanta. The women who sold their bodies were numerous- always a market for sex, always a pack of smokes to be earned, always a cock to throat, always rear end to tongue clean. Of all of the places you would expect the eldest of Vampires within the city's limits, the Reagent of the Coven- and the most powerful that you would cross- the slums was the last place you could expect. In a city where it was always night time- the sky was always black- and the only difference between night or day was Cuervo or Cap'n. Within the confines of her tenants- the Reagent would keep herself busy- landlord to any and all- thorn in the side of the bar, as her taxes were harsh and always on time.

Many would call her generous- some say she raised Lost Angels from the ruins of Wormwood herself- brought it back for her own pleasure- for the enjoyment of her and her people. The Reagent was a sinister- yet almost always unseen figurehead, all knew about her- and when her name was mentioned even Charissa would cringe. Wendy, the Chancellor herself even answered to Suzanna- the Reagent, Shyann, the Marquise- was nothing in the wake of the Slum Lord.

Nested in a coke den- meth cooking from where they played- the Reagent sat with her legs apart o a dirty and worn down sofa. She was as seductive as any in this time, plump and well rounded breasts barely hidden by the easily see-through white button up, and a short black skirt with nothing on underneath. She wore combat boots- used for kicking in teeth like the other females of the city- it was common practice, yet no one spoke a word of it. Around her wrist was a rose- the thorned vine ending just under her elbow- this rose her symbol- her creation. Along her left upper-thigh there was a combat knife strapped and held tight- and she sat on this couch, unlady like, simply because there was a head between her thighs.

Suzanna had three tear drop tattoos along her left eye mock bleeding mascarra,- and her eyes were a light teal- defined- and well rounded to the point. The last piece of Suzanna was her straight and silky long black hair- it went far past her shoulders, a beauty- yet a curse all within the same stifled cry.

The coke whore, slut and vermin to the city- She Juniper, all one name- SheJ, was licking away frantically to the Slum Lord's request. SheJ always had a different hair color- but it always seemed to be a hot color like red or pink, she also wore a tiny skirt and fishnets- they of course hid nothing. She was bare chested, face buried- but she had a soft face that bruised easy and made the perfect target for a stream of urine or a long shot of a man's seed. Her thighs were parted- her little moist slit dripped, soaked- and little moans and murrs were resonating from between Suzanna's thighs, and simply so.

The T.V was on- but it was just static- the bubbling of meth being made yet unattended sounded off- and the whole apartment smelled like sex and uncouth substance abuse. It was a humble home- not far off of any other place in this dark city, and in the moment no one could complain if they onlooked the sight- Suzanna's hand running through the soft strands of ruby- not to caress, but to shove her lips and nose to grind harder into her waiting nest of sexual pleasure.

More murring, moaning- and Suzanna would close her eyes, tilt her head back and grin- the long fangs of an undead gleaming in the poorly lit apartment's only shimmer- the glow of the moon through the nearby uncovered window. The moment was entrancable, her legs would remain open- allowing- enjoying, her voice ringing out, "Lick it you nasty fuck-" She would get cut off by a grave knock on the metal door. SheJ would jerk her head up, but not be able to bring her face away. Suzanna's steady arm would hold her braced- still- and with that she would mutter, "I didn't say stop."

Another knock and a call out- the voice of Shyann, not desperate, but serious and unmistakable, "Reagent." The word, it didn't have to be the Marquise- anyone could have said it and roused her deepest and most sincere of serious tones, and with that she would let SheJ's head go and stand up abruptly and away from her cunnilingus as if it were all useless feeling. She would stride to the door, the way she carried herself- serious- almost overbearing, yet feminine.

"This had better be worth my time- " She growls as she tugs the door open. Shyann stood- street clothes, her hair hung in front of her face, emerald like Pusher's blood. She wore exteremly low cut shorts and a tiny strip of a top- it barely covered anything. It was more a disguise- not a harlot's garb- as a woman in a dress going to a drug den would cause suspicion. It was almost amusing to the eye though, the powerful Marquise- dressed as if she were to join SheJ on the streets and earn her wage with a rather promiscuous craft.

Shyann just huffs, walking into the small room, the door being closed behind her- and immediately the Marquise glares at SheJ, knelt and looking up at them both- her face soaking wet, not being wiped or cleaned. "She needs to leave- this is not anything but a serious manner." But Suzanna would just chuckle and shake her head gently, arms crossed under her bust, "No- her ears don't care for this talk- and her lips only speak moans- speak here, as I trust this one." She would motion to SheJ now, whom would look away with a little bit of a smirk on her face- SheJ knew what Suzanna was- as SheJ was one of Suzanna's most trusted.

Shyann didn't like it- but time did not bless them and she turns to Suzanna, her eyes landing on the woman, her mouth parting so she could speak - but she didn't know where to begin. "I,.. I ,.. we need your blessing, as,.. this war has taken it's toll." Suzanna would perk a brow, "War?" Sure- it was not uncommon, the war had started as of recent- and war was common, saying -war- in general was like saying -car- in general, or -hat-. Shyann was not surprised, "The Brood- and Hell's army are marching on the city- we,.. the Coven,.. we are with them- we wish to purge this city of the Pack- and anyone who sides with them."

Her words fell on wise ears- beyond being a sexual icon, the consumers of such lust and deep feelings of sensation far under her being, Suzanna was the beginning of a bloodline which was now in many veins. She just nods a bit, her face seemingly annoyed with the interaction- "Why, why are you here then? I am not going to go out and fight- simply because you have a bad day with some wolves, I have a bloodline to protect." She was right- enemies could tear down the Coven, rip them apart and stomp them out- but in the end, if Suzanna remained, they could rise again.

Shyann grimaced, this was a scowl, and she gave a bold answer, "That is not what I said- I simply came here to relay- the Coven's army, men and women dominated and controlled by our blood- is mostly gone, broken apart by the Pack forces. My most powerful and most trusted are still there- but we lack our carry." Suzanna grins, she was not afraid of death, but with that she looks away, "And?" Shyann would swallow hard- her eyes sinking, but bright with what her plan had relayed, "I wish for you to help us- I fear the Brood will turn on us if they break the Pack- discard us if they are victorious- and while we are weak."

Suzanna, strong-willed, a powerful leader in her time. She gives Shyann the once over and finally she belts out a laugh. It was a rather warm laugh- that which would tickle you ears and enchant you, or make you realize your position if opposed. "Weak,,." He says trailing off- "I alone, Shyannn, am enough to bring the Brood down- so long as I remain, the Coven remains." With that Suzanna turns away from Shyann- "But, I realize your concern- you have many young lives to worry for, many loyals, many to love." Suzanna then does what she was hopeful of, and closes her eyes, casting a spell.

Seeing the Slum Lord of the city doing magic would have been silly if it were anyone else- SheJ looked past it and still sat knelt by the couch, her face still gleaming from saliva and Suzanna's sexual juices. The Reagent's words resonated off of decrepit concrete, came back to her ears and let her almost have a witch's air about her. She was wise, she knew the spell she was to use and Shyann, she was left clueless. When Suzanna had finished- she gave a nod to Shyann and said, "That will be all."

The Bloodwitch, she was proud- intelligent- striking- and firey. But, she was confused, at least this time, "What,.. what did you do Reagent?" Suzanna would just grin- showing off those fangs of her's, and give her a little motion that meant, -begone-. Shyann would bow, still confused and leave the apartment, the metal door clicking behind her and her steps would carry her quick along the steet below and out of sight. Suzanna had watched from the window above- finally SheJ spoke up.

"What did you do?" With that Suzanna would scale the small space between the couch and herself, spreading her thighs again and revealing her still moist petals to the onlooking friend of her's. SheJ would lean forward and poke her tongue out- roll it along the hooded gland, and dip it in and under, hooking into the separation. Finally she would lean in and suck the labia into her lips- a loud suckle sounding off and Suzanna would give a tiny flutter of her eyes, a moan to follow. The Reagent's lips would part, the ones on her mouth, and she would speak- "I did nothing,.. simply nothing- for they don't need my help- simply better judgement."

Suzanna would furiously love the Coven- do anything to see it succeed, her choice to do nothing in favor of them- to leave them with the confidence they had her blessing, it was all choice for the future. The strong would survive- the weak would burn and pass, Suzanna knew this and her family was tight-knight and about fellowship. Her choice would make Shyann go back simply knowing she was watched over- that the Coven would exist no matter who left it or who tore it apart. And Shyann would go back- let them know of this spell that was cast- perhaps magic to grant them better sight, more strength, or a keener sense of hearing. And the Coven would revel- fight harder, kill with much more prowess- knowing their Reagent gave them her blessing.


Taien was alone, his normal balanced blade strapped to his belt- but on his back a long Zweihander- a four foot long sword as thick as a piece of plywood. Armpit holsters held two handcannons, and a simple nine millimeter pistol belted to the same thigh as his sword. Armed to the teeth to be exact- he stalked, walked the streets in shroud- knowing none but a wolf would be able to pick him out- catch his scent- see his blurry quick motions. He crouched, watched Shyann move quickly towards the back alley across from the Zodiac Lounge. His glasses, ruby spectacles resting on the bridge of his nose. His hair, messy and dark - hiding much of his face, a gorgeous man to many's eyes. He wore no shirt under his long jacket- two pistols pointing to his pelvis tattooed onto his hips peeked over the waistline of his low rise jeans.

She went up a metal staircase and began knocking on a metal door- the person whom opened he could not make out. This perked his interest, she was dressed like a slut- simply so- and his scent didn't mistake him, it was Shyann. War taken to them, his words were confident- you take off the head of a bull- the body goes limp and can no longer rampage. Quick paws and a strong bound- like a predator of long trained prowess, he finds himself on the roof above them-ears perked.

"What,.. what did you do Reagent?" Is what he picked up- the first words, and it seemed the visit was brief- Shyann was then rushing out of the place- heading across and towards the Blood Bank as quickly as she had come. It was a crossroad- raise rabble and hunt her in the heart of the Coven's place of business, or investigate this apartment- he chose the obvious. Taien hopped down and waited none, he tried to push on the door. It was locked- shut- but he heard a bit of moaning inside, and a woman reply with a confident voice, "I did nothing,.. simply nothing- for they don't need my help- simply better judgement."

Taien was silent, and he closed his eyes- as much as he loved women and as much as he loved the thought of one getting some action- he pulled a handcannon free- fluid- and expends both barrels at the door's lock and handle. There was a quick tussle, SheJ had leaped back and around the couch- Suzanna had stood, drawn her dagger and was ready to pounce and kill anything that walked through that door. Taien- the enforcer he was, unlocked, reloaded and stormed inside in a matter of a quarter minute. Suzanna- the Slum Lord, charged, sending a combat dagger right for the first spot of bare flesh she had seen.

A combatant, brawler, and amazing shot all in one- Taien dips his shoulders back, using the only two tools at his own disposal for defense and parry. First a swing of his gun for her wrist- the scattergun going off- both barrels again into the floor and with much luck- into the soup kitchen below and not the street. With the same swing of his arm he sends for a headbutt- the brow of his skull striking Suzanna on the nose. She would retract her head, pained but not defeated- recoiling and slashing along Taien's front.

The gap they had made together was easily closed- his headbutt not breaking such a collision- but it kept the swish of steel and Regent fist from jabbing and gutting him like a freshly caught cod. Suzanna was fierce- seemingly feral, she didn't care -who- Taien was, so long as he broke into the place she was- her building- her creation, she would bring him to his knees. The Slum Lord herself was surely a trained fighter- hundreds of years of tears, laughter, blood and broken promises- Suzanna had swung a blade- cut a few throats- and fucked a few wolves over.

Taien- strong willed, quick, and seemingly invincible- he took the very point of the blade to the gut, a little spurt of blood- but it did not prevent action or hinder the Lycan-Neko hybrid. His right paw, now free of the sawn-off shotgun, it moves for his oversized blade, wrapped with bandages comic book style, but non mockery- it still cut and it still cleaved. The belts loosed and unclipped along the back of his coat, through the pleats in the leather and canvas that kept him protected partially by the wasteland winds. Taien drew his sword alright- splitting the ceiling above as he brought it around and over, giving a backstep- preparing.

Taien's motion was quick- distracting- but Suzanna was not one to ease up for a big gun or a giant sword, her eyes narrowing- her voice a hiss, "Who are you?" Taien would look over the ruby lenses of his spectacles- his voice a growl to her hiss, a whisper to her shout- a reply to her inquiry, "I should be asking the same thing." They knew eachother naught- no one had seen much of Suzanna, aside from rent payment and getting evicted- and evictions were handled like thieves, bloody caracasses alongside their unneeded possessions Suzanna would toss for the less fortunate.

She sunk too- dipping her shoulders, lowering stance and she charged, blade out- but she cuts high, a rising slash- which Taien easily sidesteps- he figured it would have been too easy, as a knee rose and bashed into his hip. It was no lightweight attack- she hit to kill- to break, and with that the Lycat held nothing back. The blade he had unleashed was brought flat in front- to prevent further assaults on his base and frame, but she was unrelenting and she would not stop until he was dead or gone.

Taien too was now fighting to kill- her blade coming forward for his face- but he dips is shoulder and bucks her, the slashing main-hand being jerked to a side, and with that the Lycat propels himself with steps. Like a professional athlete he slams her into the drywall, doubling back when they collide and jamming the sword forward trying to impale the Coven's Reagent with every ounce of brute force he would muster.

Through this all She Juniper stood aside, worked her way back and forth- helpless yet not stupid. The gun that had been discarded- it was empty, perhaps she could find another means of defending the woman who had cared for her for so long. Her eyes stop on the same combat knife- simple- balanced- laying feet from the caved in hole, Taien heaving and huffing as bits of crimson flecked from both the impaled Suzanna and the gashed Lycat. "Y-yeah,.. fuckin',.." He reaches up- letting go of the sword to wipe his brow.

In a rush of action Suzanna showed more than just overbearing strength- but superhuman capability, bringing her feet to the ground and sliding forward along the blade. It went deeper into her- took Taien offguard, his hand reaching for his katana- his eyes darting around as the rush did not slow down for anyone. Her abdomen met the hilt but she charged and tore herself open futher to leave the sword in the wall- coated in a thick gloppy layer of plasma. Before Taien could bring the blade forward Suzanna sent three long hooks into him- the cheek, snapping his head to a side- the top of his head on the opposite side- crashing his jaws together- and then an elbow to the neck toppling him over.

The Reagent would have leaped- but SheJ did the motion before she did- pouncing Taien and putting a knee on each shoulder. The way he had fallen- the twist of his body- the weighted blade could not help but clatter to a side, out of his hand. Knife in her right hand she gashed across his bare chest- doubled back for his face- and jammed the dagger down into his shoulder. It made sickening splatters on either side and a pool underneath- the whore by profession stepping off of him panting.

Suzanna didn't even seem phased, the gaping hole in her middle body closed quicker than any regeneration one could have seen- it looked like someone sewed yarn from side to side and closed it all in one quick blur, the skin leaving not a scar or a rememberance other than a bloody, gaping hole along the bottom half of her thin white button up. "That was not your typical home invader- yet nothing new." She would say- everyone being unnatural in the city- humans were simply livestock.

Taien was not down and out, his eyes did not close, his breathing did not stop- only sped up, and only sent his muscles into spasms. The dagged was jammed along his collarbone- but it would find itself pushed from him by force- and make a clang as it hit the torn up floor. The pair- Suzanna and SheJ would turn to face the source- where Taien had been was a hulking abomination of fur and muscle. It was a shifted Lycan- and then it all made sense to the Reagent- a smirk hit her lips.

"This war- I see it has made you foolish- wolf." She would say with confidence to the shifted Taien- seven feet tall, clothing ripped aside from his coat which lied balled up on top of his sword at his feet. Black fur- black eyes with a deep blue ocean of color in the backdrop, orbs that were deeper than the pits of his nostrils- which snorted, dragging in scent along his muzzle. The streak of darkness he was- Taien was proud- the little cat tail flicking behind himself in annoyance- little bandages that had always been there wrapped along the tip- his signature.

He would take three steps, tuck down, twisting his body- his right paw touching his left row of toes and with a swift motion- faster than the Vampires had shown. A blur of motion- he backhands Suzanna off of her feet. His arm struck her on the chest- just along the strenum- he felt bone crumble and with his driving force sent her back and into the almost tiny closet of a bathroom. The sink was crushed with her landing- water spraying out along the battered figurehead- and porcelain smashed around her. Taien would then turn his wild eyes on the coke whore who worked these streets more than any other- who made a living off of her craft. He wouldn't soften his gaze- but he would shrink down- unshifting and standing naked no longer wounded in the middle of the smashed up apartment.

He padded naked to his coat- bending down for it and quickly bringing it around himself to at least make himself decent. SheJ eyed him with interest- and gives a little remark, "You know,.. I suck cock for a living- should come see me some time." Her eyes peeled away from his groin only to look back to the down and out Suzanna- she willed not to provoke the Lycat further- she had stabbed him and all. Taien wouldn't forget, his sword belted to his back, handcannon and balanced sword away in their respected places- with that he grunts and makes with the action.

He clears the room, walking into the bathroom- looking down at Suzanna as her eyes remained closed, the brutal scene like that of a car accident's aftermath- but she was not dead. "Who are you?" Taien would ask- his eyes still locked onto her, his tail still swishing- his voice was calm- no longer splashed with rage. The Reagent would curl her fingers and let them loosen- getting a feel for the world again- she had been hit so hard her undead body was trembling still. "Fuck you." She spits- and gently she brings her hands back to raise herself from her crater.

The Lycat just sighs and makes no offense moves, his eyes still on her, "I saw Shyann- she came in here- who are you?" But Suzanna was already charging him- pulling his own move against him- dipping her shoulder and pushing him back and off of his feet. He lands on his back with a booming forceful slam, the bodywork of the building it'self shaking around the group. SheJ had already unhooked and lugged the propane tank from her meth lab to the little tussle, raising it above her head and dropping it down on the unsuspecting Taien below.

It would smash into his features roughly with a loud pang- crossing his vision with black and stars. The Reagent- seemingly unharmed after all that had happened grabbed him by his bare ankle and drags him to the two windows- uncovered- on the side of the room. With a hiss she yanks one open, using the other arm to hurl Taien like a pool noodle- sidelong through the newly made gap and towards the street. Her voice would lighten as he was sent out, and she didn't even look outside as he plummeted- but she vacated the place with her whore- if more Taien types showed up- she was too tired to hurl them all out windows.

Cats always landed on their feet, the dazed and confused the Lycat would try and make a clean descent- only to feel his right shin snap and break from the force, sending him back onto his ass. Taien cries out in pain- his howl echoing from building to building- ear to ear. If you wanted to speak of miracles- a Brood infested- Coven infested city, the chances of what happened were extremely slim. James and Dreexo- a couple that led up the hospital base in North Gate- had been coming from the Zodiac and saw Taien fall from the window.


Taking the fight to the Coven- that was just what half of them did- the other to the Brood. Castalia and Jean worked as a team- the hero and the witch, confident as a group- confident alone- the humans of the Pack were strong enough to lead a charge on their own. Markus had his hands placed ready- always ready, left on his sword, and his actual sword-arm hooked into his kilt. The blade he toted was perfect for his arm and his style, trained slashes that were accurate and deadlier than an expecting combatant would be keen in having used against them. Markus, he was a strong opponent- but Jean was not afraid.

The man was knelt, a brick in his left hand, drawn sword in the other- without fear the bunch of Markus and his Victorian concubines were huddled in front of the Pawn Shop. "Hey Cousin It," Jean would call out with intent- blood like none other on his mind- and Jean whips the brick through the Pawn Shop's window. The swordsman and his women instantly gave attention- a Coven controlled shop being vandalized, Markus called his hits, "You are far from home puppy- that was a grave mistake." As he finished his sentence- like clockwork his women ran forward. They were blood dolls- pawns to him, useless, but powerful with his influence.

Jean saw claws rake for his face- his resilient human frame dipping back and rifling a laugh, a taunt to the missing paw of the Victorian doll's swipe. His head would bow and his shoulders fall forward, his body being flung into a roll, then springing up and slashing high. The hand of the doll would come clean off- being out for blood Jean recoils and sends another slash the opposite direction- this time one step forward and a manly snarl sounding off. The girl would shriek- her torso being split and the pale skinned undead would fall apart- into two piles on the blacktop.

A second and third concubine- from the seeming nowehere, falling from above. The Last Action Hero would take slashes to his front and back- one of the dolls then lunging forward and digging her Vampire fangs into his ribcage- the opposite on his front doubling back and sening a clawed backhand for his face. Jean would scream out, a foot coming up and kicking at the knee of his backhanding opponent- with nothing but avail, there is a crunch and she falters. Markus- enraged with his loss then would rush forward.

Castalia had cut down the fourth of the blood dolls early on, but grimmaced when her target was impaling Jean. The steel blade went through his gut and into the last doll as she latched on. Together- Jean and his doll would go limp- the human spirit he withheld leaking into his will and his ability to stay conscious. "F-fuck,.. you,.." He would mutter. Markus was honorable, he would tug the blade free and huff, "Kneel," And as he said that word Jean fell forward, gripping his front.

Castalia would not allow it - not to watch him get mutilated by the long red haired man whom stood over her companion with a powerful and arrogant air about himself. Castalia was wiry, just as most in the Pack- tall and slim, with curly long red hair, similar shade to Markus- and a freckle strewn face-eager eyes that would be loving to one, furious to another. She had a powerful attitude, fiery like Nasreen- and she took charge constantly. Her sword was a swishing gleaming instrument of surgical precision- missing Markus as he veered the attack- but lobbing off the long tapestry of hair behind his head.

His quick jerking head was one of the luckier moves her had pulled in his life- but Jean, Jean was not so good at dodging charging attackers- more the type to take the hits with hulking force, and carry on until he fell in a heap. He had spiky blonde hair, a soft face that was almost feminine- thin lips and defined eyes with long lashes. This was not a bad thing- a man with attractive features went far- and women constantly told him of his looks- as he was a Hero to humankind- strong enough to fight alongside the best of the wolves. He had all kinds of trademarked nicknames- but the only name that actually belonged to himself was,.. Jean.

His body was rigid- built- and it was powerful, as now it stood, blood on his back and front, but eyes alight and burning with a fiery passionate rage. Jean would cry out- cry for the fucking heavens, rushing Markus as Castalia advanced on the other end. Front and back- pincered- Jean slashing high, Castalia slashing low- they met marks and the Coven swordsman would topple- brought down and defeated- repayed for his brutal attacks on the Pack- and he was only the start.

His chest was torn open, his ruby studded black clothing shredded, and his kilt and hair in a heap by his bleeding calves. Not dead- simply put down, Jean looked to Castalia- who rushed to his aid, sending a glowing palm to his wound. The healing energy would wash over him- mend him- make him strong again- only while draining her of her precious strength- Castalia was strong, but it was no match for the flapping noise heard from above.

Sloan loomed overhead- shrieking out a taunt, "We love to see you try so hard- but we are through with you puppies avoiding death so keenly, let us be your undoing." With those words Sloan plummets from the sky above and sends a flurry of tentacles at the awaiting humans below. Their help was overdue- attacking Markus in the middle of the street was a stunt, they had told the Pack on their comm of their doings- but help had not arrived, simply silence broken by the Demon Sloan- rushing them- ready to coat them in his flames and fury.

Castalia is wrapped, brought up towards Sloan who slams into her with the force of a spray of bullets- axe swinging away sending sprays of blood and cries of pain to the atmosphere around them. He cut his own tentacles, it didn't matter- ravaging Castalia was his first and only objective- without a second thought he throws her with the couple tendrils that remained wrapped around her arms and legs- throwing her to the street below.
She lands with a crash- the asphalt actually cracking where she collides, the brute force of a Demon pouring out of his every action.

Jean doesn't wait to be swept up- he couldn't regenerate like a wolf- but he shook the wound off and leaps upward at Sloan, who was a few feet above the street. With ease- Sloan bashes him aside with his shield, the pang of the human colliding and the few slashes Jean digs into the metal as he is flung aside ring out- only to be topped by Sloan's evil laughter. It was deep- dark- set into your ears and tore you from the inside out- it would make one grip madness by tone.

Ziau- taking the fight to them, accompanied by Meas- the dynamic of duos, the only bond closer in battle was Ziau and Milana- or Ziau and his brother Sinthorn. Maes and him worked in Rythms- one would slash while the other fired, switching up and dancing around an opponent like a Serbian and a Russian would- one wild, one disciplined- ying to yang- black to white- though it was unexplainable which was which- the wild or the disciplined.

Sloan was facing Jean, another crater in the blacktop- his tentacles srpinging up ready to rifle for the heap of man and steel, but Maes leaps like an Alpha- putting his neck on the line, Ziau with an SMG in hand firing his entire clip upward at the hovering Sloan. Boiling daemon fluid splashes out and he whirls to eye the source- only to get a leaping Maes jamming his sword into the black metal chestplate of the Exalted Brood Demon. He hisses- a deep demonic shriek, twitching and flailing his shield around to shake Maes off- but the Serbian wolf claws and rips at Demon Sloan- chunk upon chunk being torn.

A gust of hot air sends the assailant from the front of the devious and sinister Demon Sloan. His body taking a hit- but nothing he wouldn't overcome in a few moments time- his wings carry him upward, sword still jammed- his pride far from shattered. Michel, standing where Markus was still in a heap by his feet, staff drawn- he just simply smirks, "So- you planned on just taxing -my- turf?" He begins to smolder- and then catches fire- erupting and finally disappearing in a flash. From behind he speaks again, a foot or so from Ziau's ear, "My friend- you are far from the Den, and business is business."

The staff is swung, doubling Ziau back to parry with the bulk of his gun- the little snapping sound of it's inner workings being jumbled and knocked out of place- the blow harsh and cut cleanly through night atmosphere. Ziau snarls, his tail poofing up and his ears angling forward- right paw shooting for his own sword. It was blood for blood- eye for eye- tooth for tooth. The Pack was going to take wounds, as well as cause them, this was their assault- their rising.

Ziau leaps forward, his blade cutting above Michel as he ducks- past him as he sidesteps, the devil of a man simply finessing around Ziau's reckless- hulking attacks. The street cracks as the blade meets it- the air screams as steel is sent singing through it's flesh, but Michel finds it a game, his leg shooting forward. He kicks Ziau's ankle- the wolf ducks down to respond- only to get smashed in the jaw by a long iron staff- his mouth spurting a little trickle of blood, and his tongue searing with pain where he had bit down on it.

Maes did not forget Ziau, he collides with what he thinks is Michel- whom simply disapparates and causes him to buck into Ziau, bringing them both down to the street. Maes doesn't apologize, Ziau doesn't scold- they attack again- surely expecting this to be their best bet for cornering the Overfiend. A wind licks the feet of the Serbian- Maes goes legs over head and collides with the old worn down sidewalk, Ziau being sidetracked- forced to leap over him and down on the horned trickster below.

This time he was not so fast, he doesn't make more than a grunt as he is sent back and into the broken storefront of the pawnshop- Ziau with him- pouncing him down and sending an off-hand for his jaw. It struck, bone to bone, and Michel gives a little snarl- eyes glowing with a satanic rage- but the wolf was not afraid. He bashes down with the hilt of his sword- connecting- a little darkened bump splotching right below a horn- that would be the last hit Ziau would land before he was yanked off by a long row of tentacles.

Sloan whips the wiry framed Lycan into the concrete wall opposite of the avenue- the wall around the Blood Bank's lot. He slams into it and crumbles- amazingly so the concrete holds up and doesn't topple on top of his down and out frame. The comm screams with chatter- the Pack was close, and the Brood was weary. Sloan flaps down and scoops up Markus- whom was alive, but wounded- taking off over the KCLA tower. Michel brings himself to his feet- brushing the dust off of his suit, "Sometimes- you make a bad investment." And he erupts again in flames- and out of sight.

Maes glances up at Celtic and Chasity- hurrying to the scene, though the Pack had won this skirmish- they had wounded to tend to, he calls out to the smaller of the two, "Help Cas- I got Jean." Simply following request, they came to save the humans- not scoop Ziau off of the street, but as it plays out one is per injured teamate. Chasity, a cowboy hat on her head like Nort- yet soft white hair instead of dreads of black- a short and stocky frame, a blade on each of her sides- a Berserker alongside Maes and Ziau. She bends over to bring Castalia over her shoulder- the woman was out cold, but her heartbeat was still there.

Jean was in a heap himself- but simply cradling a dislocated arm, a gaping hole along his abdomen- but he still crunched up to nurse his arm- he would live. Maes, the Serbian wolf, straight black hair, deep red eyes, he knelt next to Jean, "You alright bro?" His voice was low- he lost his sword, but that was the last of his worries.

Ziau was scraped from the sidewalk by a worried Celtic, short but thin- soft eyes and a comforting voice. She was far from plain- but hardly an outspoken wolf. She was simply there for her family- fought when she needed, mended whom was hurt- and stayed loyal to the bone. She patted Ziau on the cheek a few times, his whole frame aching- but he opens his eyes and grins, "S'over? Already? But I just got started."


Shyann paced back and forth, her Elders- cloaked- hidden by the long line of black that curtained their faces. There was a room of twelve- Anciets and Elders alike, but they were her council. She sighs, not sure what to tell them- not sure how to explain her meeting with the Reagent. "The Chancellor,.. she told me,.. where to find the Reagent." The room erupted in words- unintelligable amounts of Latin and proper english- but Shyann speaks over them. "She blessed us- but refused to march with us- and for good reason."

Oren would respond from the darkness- stepping forward, "Marquise, what could be a good reason for refusing to fight with us?" She was grim- serious- and cold with her words. Shyann would respond kindly, "Because,.. she is our bloodline. If she passes- the Coven has the simple threat of being devoured, so long as she survives- the Coven will survive." This war had taken it's toll on politics- Oren replies rapidly, "What of the Brood- do we continue to trust them? Was this blessing enough to break away- or was it to remain with them to use us as puppets?"

Shyann- she considered the views, and sighs, "Oren- I understand your concern,. but we are with the Brood to remove this vermin from the city- we have a common enemy, and Charissa was rather convincing with her request to right the Pack together." The rumble of voices continues- it would continue all night- rabble rousing in turn- as the Coven was constantly plagued with.


too big for one reply ))
02/09/09 06:19
ZiauCont from part 3.))

James looked to to Dreexo, the little neko girl with striking features- an empath- his arm candy. She was skilled with a bandage, wrapping the broken shin against a splint so that his Lycan regeneration could take it's place. He smirked- his messy dark hair, capped by goggles and his thick gear-decked armor, all if it hidden by the shroud of dark in the makeshift hospital. Taien was awake- he was clothed now, but he was erked for good reason. He had been attacked by one of the more powerful Vampires he had ever confronted- this Vampire was allys with Shyann- possibly the Coven, he wished none of her involvement.

The Lycat remained silent for the duration of the process- only nodding and shaking his head when asked questions. Dreexo, short- around four feet, busty and with a knack of trendy dressing- she was a prize to a man. This tiny little vixen had a sensitve psychic bond with emotions- and Taiens scowling attitude sunk into her, but her eyes widen- as the mood shifts- overwhelming desperation- worry was coming fast to the area.

There was no knock- simply a crash and in came a pair of Lycans- one carrying the other. Nasreen with Luna leaning against her. Luna was a wolf Ziau had not seen much of- mysterious to him, but she was much different than most. Breath that was cold- frozen and visible when she exhaled, soft pale skin with blue fur and hair. She wore little to nothing- and at her side was a azure blade of ice and wind. A powerful lycan, her eyes confident and set to what she was hungry for- wether it be blood or love.

Nasreen was carrying her, helping her limp to a bed. The alpha out and helping the wounded worried the Beta- but he was not going to scold her, "What happened?" He asked, his blue orbs fixed onto Luna- who seemed to be unharmed, just tired. "Ishtar- sucked the energy right from her- the Coven is fighting harder, more confident- and more at a time." Nasreen was observant- and even a child could notice the increase in Coven activity with the war- the Reagents blessing must have blazed proudly in their chests.

The blue she-wolf was set on a gurney and Dreexo fled the room, her emotions being flooded by the mixture of worry and anger from the Pack and Guard alike. Taien sighs, "We can take the Brood alone- we can take the Coven- but together, they are getting the better of us." He was right, and Nasreen knew. James would turn to the fridge and retrieve a half-drunk bottle of rum and set it on the bed where Taien was propped up- "I suggest, to our future."


Odorioko and Charissa stepped down from their thrones, their stride able to be heard in the hearts of all ahead of the pair. They were on the move and word carried fast. The past nights had been harsh- but as the wolves from across the territories responded to the howls- as the Flatplain and the remaining Forsaken Pack began to relieve effort- it simply removed a large portion of the edge from their pain. The Brood army heatedly controlled the city- while the wolves stalked the suburbs and would come in to raid the Demon partols- a common practice so early in a blood bath.

Shyann would be on the move too- the Reagent leaving her tenant buildings to come to the calling- the Coven fought brutally- controlling the coastline, controlling shipment and cutting off Pack food supply. They were hungry- blessed and they didn't know how- but this was their war too. The blood was drained of so many wolves that they became disgusted with the taste- with the feeling of rage in their unliving frames. The Pack would have it's Cartel ties send explosives and false shipments into port- fighting back against the Coven's efforts to keep them isolated, every last mile of beach counted.

Nasreen, Taien, and 'Ro would come from the suburbs to the meeting- climbing the hills of Cape CoLA - a gathering of powers to discuss perhaps an end to the fray and with that words were shed- "So, we are, where do we begin?" Charissa would raise her brow at the question Nasreen had brought to the table. "Begin? This has already begun- I see you are still here and haven't fled my city yet- you must be here to surrender." Shyann would smirk- Suzanna folding her arms and keeping her lips sealed in the background. Dori would speak up and turn to the Coven officials, "You agree- that this will not end until the Pack is dead or gone, correct?" Shyann does nothing more than nod- Suzanna more than narrow her gaze on the lighter of the Arch Demonesses.

Dori was to Charissa as Maes was to Ziau. So similar- the white to her black- calm to her wild- or perhaps wild to her calm. They were insepparable- something that was obvious, and her words were as meaningful and as powerful as her better half's. Shyann now spoke, "For all this time we have fought- finally you will see your end- no matter if we have to call for help or not- I just want to see every fucking dog in this world drug out and beaten in the streets." Taien would stay calm where 'Ro's anger was tangible, seeping through his gaze as he looked on with a boiling tendency- wanting to slaughter the whole lot.

Taien would speak, "So- I guess it's settled, to the greater power- we refuse to hide or back down, I assure you-if we go down, we go down snapping and snarling." There would be silence- a long silence and finally Suzanna would speak, "For hundreds of years- I have walked this planet- watched Hell's gates open and watched Heaven shy away as this city I raised from the ruins bustled. If my Coven wishes you gone- so be it." With that the meeting was called to an end.


I would like to thank EVERYONE who let me use their characters and portray them- especially Suzanna,.. whom was the hardest to portray.

Special thanks to:
Milly for giving up sex for 3 days for this piece
Charissa for sitting through my bitching about it and supporting me more than anyone
Logan for dialogue for his character

The CoLA community- you are my inspiration, I will keep writing for you guys, whether you like it or not ^.^

02/09/09 06:21
erinnicamazing!02/09/09 07:44
CharissaGreat work Ziau!02/09/09 10:43
ZiauSo yeah don't mind the like 50000 typos I busted out some Cabernet like 30 minutes too early, so I proofread a bit,.. drunk.02/09/09 21:04
Charissa[quote=Ziau]So yeah don't mind the like 50000 typos I busted out some Cabernet like 30 minutes too early, so I proofread a bit,.. drunk.[/quote]
This site has spell checking ability so you could prolly just cruise through and fix'em.
02/09/09 23:07
Eianna CaleJust one question, is there going to be more? Or is this the end?02/09/09 23:20
Ziau[quote=Eianna Cale]Just one question, is there going to be more? Or is this the end?[/quote]
I swore up and down that this was it- part 3 done,... BUT,..

So many people keep asking me to do more- so many more people want to be there and part of it, portrayed.

SO FAR- it had upped RP, been told that by more people, they were inspired to look into the war, be a part of it, or at least cognitively work towards it with their character.

I want to make three more parts- a post war,.. I ended it abruptly simply because you can't decide what RP is going to do for itself- such as me ending it would put a cap on what happens IC. I know I strayed, was inaccurate and not so much in depth about some of the things- BUT I was not going to decide the outcome for the players.

To answer you abridged, yes- three more parts after this war ends IC- three more post war recovery posts- and up to six more people being followed- as for whom? I don't want to be a douche and post about it on the forums- but I left two people out, two important people whom feel the were put aside or not as important as some of their equals.

I will work with these people to RP with me so that I can not only include them, but portray them, follow them and show them that it was not to offend- but simply I wrote about people I have deeply roleplayed with before.

That and I didn't get Suz right- and well- it IS my story, but it's for CoLA, not me.
02/10/09 02:29
KeylaGreat piece, Ziau. Your writing style is wonderful, and fuck the spelling errors. :P They dun matter at all, the reading goes smoothly right over them.

I hope there will be more of this. Even though I'll have to sneak read it at work again ;)

Thanks for taking the time to write it up. It's great work.
02/10/09 14:22
ZiauThanks!02/12/09 06:28
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