14483/Snack Time!

Snack Time!
Date of Scene:	21 July 2022
Location:	Abandoned Warehouse, Lower East Side
Synopsis:	Summary needed
Cast of Characters:	Dracula, Kit Killovarras

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Dracula has posed:
Midnight has come, and the city lies in darkness save for limpid pools of light surrounding streetlights and windows from which lights shine out from behind curtains. Yet in this neighbourhood, in this part of town, the lights are few and far between. The streets are abandoned save for a car or two up on blocks or in other stages of decripitude. The shadows are deep and dark and the lights that are here seem almost as though they are being strangled by the darkness, cut off and squeezed of their life. There is no starlight nor moonlight that reaches this fate forgotten place, the darkness thick and writhing as though with a life of its own.

A skitter of noise comes from an alleyway nearby. Was it a rat? Perhaps a cat? Maybe a stray dog? Or was it something worse to lurk within the darkness? Dark mist slithers up from the sewer covers and storm grates, lending a cloying dampness to the air that drifts as it wills, fingers of it stretching over sidewalks that are cracked by the presence of weeds.

There is the sense of *something* in this otherwise abandoned part of town. A definite presence. Something more and something else and something other than the drug users who are within the abandoned warehouse partaking of their vice of choice and losing themselves in the haze of inebriation. Something... predatory.

There's a sudden shrieking flurry of colony of bats seethes out of a broken window of a nearby church steeple, winging like black shadows in the night as they fan out and away from the building.

Kit Killovarras has posed:
An abandoned part of town, full of dark omens, druggies and dark places? This sounds like the kind of place that most creatures of the night would feel welcomed and safe, so it's no wonder that one of them feels comfortable enough to walk here without the disguises or baggy clothing that he would normally used to obscure his form and size.

When he moves, it's in practically silence, his bare feet able to dampen all but the faintest of sounds. He doesn't need the light of the stars to see in places like this, in fact he prefers them and when random sounds and skitters happen? His ears swivel, perk or adjust as needed to identify where and often enough, what it was that made it.

The aardwolf is here to observe, to learn and occasionally? to protect, so it's no surprise that he'd be watching the druggies in the warehouse. Perhaps he suspects someone of something unsavory? Or maybe he's just here to make sure that the drug possession is the only law they might break tonight. Whatever his purpose, he's not making his presence known...

Yet.

Dracula has posed:
The bats wing their way across the street and down the block a few buildings before squeezing through a broken upper story window of an abandoned house, settling to roost in the attic there. What caused them to leave the comfort of the church is unknown and unseen. Perhaps it was something that could only be sensed or heard by them, or perhaps it is something ever worse and darker. A cat, jet black and with yellow eyes, lets out an eerie meow and then darts across the road to vanish into the shadows of an alleyway on that side of the street.

Though the aardwolf might move in near silence for those possessed of human hearing, there are those within this area who were aware of his approach before he even arrived. The Lord of the Vampires narrows his eyes slightly and glances in the direction of the living being that has no right being here, even though he has no direct line of sight to him. "Damnation," he mutters. He hisses faintly under his breath, then rushes forward and physically shoves a human form through the multi-paned window of the warehouse.

Glass shatters into shards, tumbling down to the ground and scattering across the sidewalk and overgrown boulevard, into the street. It appears to be a person that dangles and struggles against the strong hold of Dracula's hand upon the front of his shirt. Yet there's something almost feral about the person. "Who made you?" demands Vlad, his voice as soft as the creeping mist and far more dangerous. Standing at some six and a half feet tall, Dracula is an imposing and intimidating man when he chooses to be, and he holds the person aloft with ease despite the approximate three hundred pound bulk the person has. There's a snarl from the person but nothing that seems intelligible.

The Lord of Vampires is dressed starkly in black -- high ankle boots that are tucked beneath the pantlegs of slacks, a long-sleeve silken shirt with a vest worn atop of it, and an open button-up peacoat that reaches to his knees. His hair is black as well, tumbling in loose locks to his shoulders, his goatee and mustache both just as dark. As the person bares fangs as though about to attempt to attack him, Dracula growls and his dark eyes glitter crimson. "Useless waste of flesh," he mutters. He pulls the once-a-person back into the building, then hurls them across the room. There's a crash of sound as there's an impact with the opposite wall, and that wall shudders, dust filtering through the air and the wall partially buckling.

Kit Killovarras has posed:
Shattering glass? Yeah that's going to hit the ground and given the Aardwolf's location? Well. There's a sudden surge of energy as some of the larger shards stop in mid-fall, being thrown into the wall to shatter them into smaller, less harmful bits and when all the glass has fallen? The aardwolf looks up and tilts his head ever so slightly.

Eyes that can see at night are a gift, but so is the training he's been receiving for months now. Three stories? Yup, three stories and normally, a vertical descent wouldn't be that tough.. But this is the wrong direction..

Regardless of how skilled he is, he's still not a master at movement by any means and while he does get himself up pretty easily, entry into the building is nowhere near as graceful.

Any vampire could smell it when he comes in through a nearby window, one that was broken but that he thought he could clear.. Blood, fresh and strangely potent spills from the aardwolfs arm as he catches the glass and stifles a slight yelp, muttering, "Fuck.. Well, that's a thing." and starts to draw with his claws across the new wound.

Another sudden surge of energy swiftly knits the flesh back together almost as quickly as it had opened up as the creature looks to the Lord of Vampires, bowing his head ever so slightly. "I'd ask why you're playing with your food.. But those ones don't exactly smell.. Fresh."

Dracula has posed:
There are some rather reliable ways of getting the attention of the Lord of Vampires. One of them is the use of magic. He feels it, he senses it, it's very much a part of his being and influence. And so as soon as the magic is used to catch the shards of glass midway through their fall, a portion of Vlad's attention is secured upon the living being even without looking to him. His dark gaze holds upon the figure of the creature that he'd thrown, and there's a low growl that rises from him. It's still alive, he knows -- he can hear it stirring in the rubble and debris at the base of the wall.

And then he smells it, the instant the cut occurs. Blood. Sweet, hunger-sating, blood. His eyes turn crimson, and there's a brief flick of his tongue out over his lips, his fangs descended. The hunger is never far, alas. And it often rises swiftly with but the scent of blood to tease it out. The sound of the slight yelp seems further dampened by a bit of magic that the Lord of Vampires controls, a thing that seems entirely simple for him. He gives his head a faint shake, mentally shoving the hunger back and away. Now is not the time. Or the place.

He turns his head, his gaze finding the aardwolf. "There are dangers, here," he says softly, tilting his head faintly to one side. There's a glance towards the wound as it's knit and healed, and he gives a soft grunt before he nods, once. "Clean the blood away lest the scent of it awaken the rest," he advises, lifting his right hand and making a slight gesture towards the aardwolf. A sphere of water materializes out of nowhere, shimmering and cool. He turns, the movement night silent, to face the aardwolf and give him a better look over in the moment. "It might be said that they are past their expiration date," Vlad comments, a hint of amusement to his voice.

The creature he'd thrown, meanwhile, has made it back to its feet and picked up a piece of the wall, perhaps with the intent of using it as a weapon. It makes a feral sound and charges towards them. Without even looking towards it, the Lord of Vampires uses his magic -- shadowy and dark and cool -- to fashion a blade that slashes out to sever the head from the neck of the creature. There's a gurgle, and the head falls to the floor and rolls as the body tumbles into a heap that twitches and then falls still.

Kit Killovarras has posed:
when Dracula mentions the dangers present, the aardwolf just gives a slight shrug and muses, " I figured as much. why else do you think I'm in this part of town?" with a little bit of a chuckle.

The mention of cleaning up his own blood makes the aardwolf tilt his head, asking "why? " as the blood seeps back into the now fused flesh, vanishing from sight.

the creature grabbing a piece of wall gets kits attention, as does the quick execution, the sound of the severed head hitting the floor causing a mild wince. "well, that was gooey. "he manages to say, just barely managing to avoid gagging. " pass their expiration date would be a good way to put it."

Dracula has posed:
There's a long moment of silence in the wake of the aardwolf's words. One of his eyebrows nudges up slightly, and he gives a single nod. "Interesting," he says, a thoughtful note to his words. There is an accent to his words, albeit mild -- Wallachian -- and his voice is rich and deep in tone. "You stalk the danger. Unusual," he adds, studying the young aardwolf for a moment longer. "Most would feel the atmosphere of this area and turn away. Find another path to walk. Anywhere but here," he muses, a hint of a smile touching his lips. He takes a moment, looking over the aardwolf briefly. "Vlad Tepes, at your service," he adds, sounding a touch amused.

"This warehouse is a nest. Someone has been careless," Dracula says. He tilts his head a touch to one side, listening. "Blood is a certain way of awakening the others. They hunger, and they are not like I," he adds. They lack his control over the hunger, and even with his control over the beast, there are times when it still breaks free.

He glances towards the dead body, and the head where it's come to rest a few feet away, and then he looks back to the aardwolf. "If we hunt the others, there may be worse to see. Do you know how many there are?" he asks, one of his eyebrows quirking up slightly. The Lord of Vampires is well aware of how many other creatures are within the warehouse -- which are human and which are not. But then, he has different senses to be able to use to his benefit.

Kit Killovarras has posed:
Kit just shrugs and explains, "I tend to stalk whatever causes a nuisance. imagine my surprise when a purse snatcher let me do a neighborhood like this one. " his lips pulling back into a toothy smile.

he gives a little nod as he looks around, his ears swiveling to pick up various sounds. "and no, no idea how many but it wouldn't be the first time I've had to deal with a vampire. I'm about a year ago one of them decided to try to nibble on someone my age. " there's a moment's pause when he says the last part of that line, his grin growing ever so slightly wider before he finishes the thought with, "he sort of lost his head too. "

when Dracula mentions they're being worse to see, the aardwolf just shrugs. " seeing it I can handle. but honestly the smell is worse and with the fact that vampires don't sound right when they die, it can make things a little weird. "

Dracula has posed:
Lifting his right hand, Vlad makes a slight gesture. "There is a feel to this neighbourhood. A darkness exuding from it, bleeding into all of the spaces and ensuring that those who are living are not inclined to come and linger. Save for those who are intended to be food, to be sheep. They are the users, the ones who are lost in their drug induced delirium," he says in a thoughtful tone. "I suspect your purse snatcher was after a means of paying for his next high," he comments.

His gaze flicks towards the turning ears of the aardwolf, and then he gives a single nod to the answer. "Ten drug users in various states of inebriated bliss. I suspect they will not cause a problem," he muses, a thoughtful note to his voice. "Two floors below this one. Four vampires. It is not a terrible number of sheep per predator, if they are responsible with them. My kind are not known for caring if their prey lives or dies," he muses, lifting one of his shoulders in a bit of a shrug. He turns and starts to walk across the warehouse, towards the staircase at the far end. "To cut off the head is a good way of dealing with many of my kind," he comments. Many, but not all.

"They have a particular smell and sound, especially when they are dying. These ones cannot be hunted by their heartbeat. They are not thoughtful enough to make their hearts beat or to make their lungs work unless they wish to speak. It comes with age," he comments.

Kit Killovarras has posed:
"Oh trust me, I'm familiar with killing your kind.." the Aardwolf says with a shrug as he follows along, adding in a simple, "No offense." His ears twitch little by little as he moves, picking out various sounds, almost like he's trying to verify the numbers mentioned. "Wooden stake through the heart works fairly often with the newer ones, older ones know to defend their chest, but I'm guessing it would still work if you could manage to surprise them."

The mention of not caring whether their prey lives or dies actually gets the yeen to wrinkle his nose a bit, musing, "You'd think they would. Keep the prey alive and they'll heal, produce more to consume. You might even find that some humans would enjoy the symbiosis it would create." Then he shrugs and sighs, looking to Dracula as they reach the stairs. "You asked the first one who made them.. I'm assuming these ones were sired without authorization?" Well, apparently he has more information about vampires than he probably should, but given the magic present in his very blood, it's not hard to guess why.

Dracula has posed:
"I suspected you might have a passing familiarity with such things," Vlad comments, a mild sense of amusement to his voice. He glances back to the aardwolf, then pulls open the door at the top of the staircase. He steps down the first couple of steps and pauses there, using his magic to hold the door open. "I take no offense to it. It is common for those of my kind to deserve a final death. Even myself, according to some schools of thought," he says. There are those that try to kill him, but he's not easy to kill which is somthing he's well aware of.

"A wooden stake is effective on many of them," he muses. He isn't about to say what it might do if used on himself. In the moment, he doesn't appear to be wearing armor of any kind, although appearances are sometimes deceiving. "There are other methods I prefer for doing away with my kin when it must be done," he muses, giving a soft and dark chuckle.

"The hunger overwhelms them and takes over. They are driven to consume and to continue to consume. And so, they kill. It takes a control they lack in their youth. There are billions of sheep in this world -- who would miss one or two of them? Those who have fallen through the cracks of life as the users here seem to do?" Vlad suggests, glancing back to the young aardwolf. "You would make a tasty snack for one of them. The smell of your blood is enough to tell me they would not stop drinking until either they were at eternal rest or you were," he says. What they would do, and what he would do, are different, and there's something in his tone that indicates such to be the case. He wrinkles his nose slightly at the question, and he is quiet as he steps down a few of the stairs. "Perspective, perhaps. I did not grant permission for them to be created, and yet -- here they are," he comments, lifting his right hand to make a slight gesture. "They are not of my blood, of my line. The sire is not present or we would have been attacked more directly and fiercely. It is often of benefit to keep an eye on one's competitors. It would not do to cause a stampede amongst the sheep," he adds.

Kit Killovarras has posed:
"So, similar to what can happen to young mages.." Kit says with a nod, then starts down the stairs with Vlad, adding, "They can be consumed by their power and go temporarily mad. Difference is, normally they're only a danger to themselves." with a bit of a shrug.

Descending the stairs, Kit's claqwtips start to shimmer and thin tendrils of violet energy start to faintly crackle through his fur, his 'mane' raising ever so slightly, making the already six and a half foot creature look even larger. There is a virtually endless well of energy that could be felt in that moment, like a connection has been made between a dozen or more different dimensions, drawing an endless stream of energy from other layers of existence itself.

Then the yeen gives Vlad a glance and a toothy smile, his glowing eyes flashing ever so slightly brighter as the energy flows through him. "You want to take the lead, or shall I?" he asks with a little tilt of his head, not bothering to hide the twinge of amusement and even excitement in his voice.