My Dear Watsons

A mangy, tightly-packed town sits in between the hunched, black hills of the eastern mountains. Thousands upon thousands of crooked trees clawing at the sky like so many dead hands, envelop the landscape with a sense of forced horror. The broken bodies of fallen leaves litter the ground, tossed about by ice-cold winds. Winter is fast approaching and the people of Tatkreis rarely leave their teetering, stacked abodes. Half for fear of freezing death and half for fear of rending werewolf claws.

From the midnight abyss erupts a bood. This boot proceeds to crunch down upon a gnawed human tibia which shatters into a million pieces. Ordin the Judas Priest steps foward, swathed in a traveling cloak, hand at his sides. His trademark wide-brimmed hat shudders in the wind and he struggles to keep it upon his matted head with one hand. He presses sternly onward, fighting against an on-coming storm. He feels a few thick, oily drops land upon his bare flesh. A mist begins to form about his frame and an icy spike runs through his body.

"Demon hunter or fucking garbage man, I forget what I am sometimes," he mutters to himself pitifully, forgetting that nobody is around to hear it. "That god damn vampire better be where he said he would be and not off chasing his fucking tail. Fuck."

An entire day of trudging through identical landscapes of hurricane winds, all-consuming mud, and threatening lightning storms tends to wear thin the fuse of a habitual tobacco smoker.

A sound starts in the distance and slowly grows louder, reverberating around the churning landscape. The moon tears its way out from an eclipsed womb, shedding an unforgiving blue light betwixt the nude trees. It enshrined Ordin, he starts as the wind stops, his skin raw and still screaming. A howl, much like that of a wolf. Yet he trudges on, his destination is close.
...

Tonight is the second Thursday of the month of November. Every second Thursday the people of Tatkreis know that the local werewolf tribe goes hunting. There is a sort of parasitic symbiosis between the cultures. The werewolves take what they like, ravaging women, mutilating children, dismantling homes, and in return they keep the forests completely baren of any danger (as well as food) for the town people. A bitter sweet blessing their deranged malformed lupin guardians are. A group of mishappen travelers stumbled into town just before the storm and took shelter in the town inn. The keeper provided paying customers with board, the others slept upon the cold, rat-infested cobbled floors. Better there than in the bleak shadows, where a lonesome priest dared. Better there than in the claws of Hades.

Werewolf raid:

Random number (1,10) : 2

Lightning was kissing the dark skies miles away. It seemed in heaven, all was turmoil. On the ground, a cantor of rats swept pieces of a predator's kill away for their own multitude of hungry mouths. And inside an inn, the badly worn doors burst inward with a deafening boom. "Oi. I'm here. Sorry I didn't clean up a bit first." said a surprisingly wispy voice that contrasted the startling and grandiose entrance the figure it belonged to had made. It wore a long, and freshly bloody, leather trench coat with untrimmed nails, moonlight skin, and pale honey hair. Its boots clodded forward toward a man resting in the shadows.

Emerging from the darkness into temporary light, the man's taught long face was visible. He looked composed and resolute. Stark-opposite for what someone covered in what must have been several quarts of blood should look like. His hands, coat, boots, and face had copious amounts of very cherry red blood still freshly dripping in small drivulets. He made no attempt to wipe them off but merely bent low toward the priest. "I need a shower. Werewolf blood smells disgusting. Still, I needed my strength and I don't like biting humans." this obviously vampiric figure said with mirth. After a moment of touching his finger to his lips and staring at the ceiling, he added, "Oh yes, and I think it's the alpha male's child so we should probably high-tail it soon lest there be an attack. I wouldn't want any of these, " Trevlac paused and stared at the poor people rotting away on the cold stone floors, er, fine human beings here to die on my account."

3-Werewolves assault.

Random number (1,10) : 7

There was a deafening crack and thick blue moonlight poured into the dimly lit tavern. A few of the patrons started awake and the more restless ones turned in horror at the firmly locked, inches thick sheets of oak flew apart as if by a weighted ramrod. The priest looked up from his mug of warm ale to discover his lost companion; Trevlac. As his custom the hellspawn was mirthful and dripping with entrails. He obviously had made a stop to make the insides of things come to the outside.

Static electricity sparkled through the air as Trevlac closed the doors and traipsed up to the veteran gunslinger He spoke of werewolf children and bathing, two things Ordin feared to hear used in the same sentence under any other context.

"These people are fine, they're used to being slaughtered in droves. We came here mostly for ourselves, remember? Apparently the local werewolf tribe worships demons and hopes to bring Beelzebub to the mortal world," the gunslinger stopped and looked around, with a touch of nervousness, at the crowd of townspeople and their collective terrorized glares. Dropping his clod-covered feet from their perch of the counter top, he leaned in closer to Trevlac. In a softer tone he continued:

"The King of Flies would fit in magnificently with a pack of rabid, flea-bitten cannibalistic mutts. There's talk of some sort of diabolical ceremony tonight and the lupins are going to be out collecting sacrifices--I see you've met--."

Suddenly, there was a ferocious roar and three black forms erupted into the inn, their massive, rippling muscles contorting under what seemed to be the strain of too-tight skin. Massive, hairy arms raised into the air and began slashing apart hapless victims, devouring them whole. The gatherers screamed, panicking. The sleeper woke to a fiendish hell all around them, many of which quickly became trampled casualties. Ordin fell back in his chair, cracking his head upon the ground. He scrambled to recover his hat and kicked over a table for cover.

A sigh of rage escaped Trevlac's mouth, starting as a huge exhale but quickly becoming an otherworldly growl filled with his resentment of injustice. He didn't just know it was possible they followed him here, he was trying to lure them all out with the blood of one of their own. He hoped that they were not as close to tailing him as this and that his meeting with Ordin would swiftly bring them away from the other people. It was unjust that they should be slaughtered for his sins. Acting quickly but not thinking, Trevlac took out his glacial zweihander and poised it near one of the werewolf's necks that was previously going about his business of savaging people peacefully.

"I'm the one you moron, can't you see the blood? Or has your new form rendered your other senses retarded?" Trevlac growled lowly with his face contorted into utmost contempt. He felt no fear, after all, werewolves were prey of vampires and it was the natural order of things that he should be confident in his victory as the predator. He kept looking the putrid beast, which had stopped suddenly at the blade near his throat, but his voice amplified to reach the others, "Cease this faggotry and fight me instead you mangy scavengers!" Trevlac roared at the top of his lungs. Upon reflection, his grandiose intelligence was only overshadowed by his strong sense of justice, which is what gets him into these kinds of situations to begin with. Still screaming incoherently, he thrust the blade upward toward the werewolf's jaw.

The blade was smoking the air around it, swathing the atmosphere in its cold grip. Time moved in slow motion as the wolf's live was extinguished. The sword tore through his jaw, sinuses, skull, brain, and finally exited from the black. His eyes grew dim and an expression of shock was plastered upon its beastly face. The wound and his entire head frosted over completely in an instant, and Trevlac, at the same time as his thrust, pushed a hand on the wolf's chest to confirm the heartbeat stopped. When he was satisfied, the Vampire withdrew his weapon and turned toward the other two who were looking upon the scene in mixed expressions of shock, anger, and fear.

With a grandiose monologue, Trevlac ended the life of one of the werewolves, effectively stopping the onslaught and drawing their attention towards the duo. Standing up, Ordin flicked back his hat and withdrew his two .357 magnum revolvers, one pointed at each of the remaining beasts. The snarled, mucous and blood issuing from their crinoid muzzles and spatting the ground around them.

One shuddered, the hair along its arms and back bristling, and emitted a hideous roar. Eyes wild it charged towards the vampire.

The Judas priest cocked his revolvers, turning 15% to the oncoming demon. He released two powerful shots, one after the other, into the chest of the beast. Soon after, the other started its assault, leaping into the air with a vicious snarl.

Random number (1,10) : 7

-2 focus

It was pretty obvious right off the bat there would be no running or location changing. These stupid animals would fight to the death instead of using tactics. Ordin, it seemed, was going to make them pay for their incompetence. With a sharp bang, both lupine atrocities had the flesh and blood rended from their bodies. In a shriek of pain and rage, both werewolves charged Trevlac at once from opposite ends. He could've taken one out as it charged him and left himself open to the others attack, only to turn and take his life as well, but that would be bad form.

Instead, the celeritous vampire twirled ninety degrees from their onslaught, hoping that the two brute's momentum would cause them to crash into each other. Unfortunately, they simply stopped running and darted for his new location. Trevlac cringed and brought his look of disdain to Ordin, hoping that if he were to attack one werewolf that the priest could quickly assess the situation and attack the other. The vampire figured he'd take the wolf on his right since the left one would have its back to Ordin and thus be more accessible; doing so, he raised the zweihander just behind the back of his coat and stood straight as an arrow as the feral beast pounded for him, claws and teeth bared.

They are such inexperienced fighters. he thought as he waited until the last second to withdraw the hidden glacial sword and allow the beast to ram himself upon its point.

Werewolf runs himself through: focus -1

Random number (1,10) : 4

The werewolves, only partially phased by Ordin's magnum rounds continued their charge. Trevlac, using his fancy swordsmanship managed only to befoul a perfect slaying opportunity by allowing his blade to cleanly impale the air directly to the side of the beast. It released another earsplitting roar and grappled his throat.

Adrenaline pumping the priest turned to follow the bestial persuit, stepping around the charging beasts and facing the back of the smaller crinoid. Thanking Robert Adams for his creation of the double-action trigger, he placed Scypio onto the back of its head a pulled the trigger.

There was an explosive flash and the werewolf's head found a form of inversion it had never conceived of. Brain matter, blood, and chunks of bone spattered all over the place, sticking to things and creating the semblance of a new age painting. It crumpled to the floor, revealing the largest of the three werewolves, as well as the most injured. The one that now bore down on Trevlac, gripping his throat and lifting him off the ground, blasting his hot, rotten breath all around.

Dropping the twin revolvers to the ground, Ordin's hand flashed to the blade at his side. Judging its exponential length and leaping backwards he withdrew Godfist the Ravager, plummeting it into the ground to the hilt.

Godfist breaks reality and pierces the werewolf's skull via ceiling

Random number (1,10) : 8

When the vice-like grip enveloped Trevlac's trachea, he panicked, dropping the zweihander and instead of placing his arms upon the attacker's hands to stop the choke, withdrew the glittering scimitar. He swung it once, the cords in his neck popping and the faint spray of blood and werewolf meat blowing into his face. It was not created by the scimitar however. For whatever reason it was sheathed again as though it hadn't been swung. The blasted bits came from the exit wound of a three-fifty-seven magnum round. Ordin, Trevlac thought. What the hell though, I swung that sword, I know it! his mind echoed as he gasped for air. The grip was tightening around his throat but soon grew loose, and finally the whole slobbering animal fell to the floor like a rag doll.

There was a blade coming from the ceiling! Ordin had used the Godfist versus that werewolf and the poor animal paid dearly for its transgressions. Once again, the righteous God slew the sinner, or Trevlac was sure, that's the though that must've crept into Ordin's mind. The thought in his mind though was..."Hey, I think it was my imagination, but I don't suppose you saw me swing my scimitar did you? I willed it to happen and my brain told my arms to swing but when I looked, it was still in the sheath." Trevlac posed the conundrum to Ordin and bent to observe the fallen foes on the floor. Blackish blood was seeping slowly, and quickly oxidizing, becoming more red.

Just as he bent low to possibly feed on the victims, a glittering black blade, like a flicker of the night sky, swished where Trevlac's head would have been only a few seconds before. He caught it in his peripherals, and expecting another attack, rolled out of the way and sat up with his .454 Casull revolver pointed at the location of where the attack would have been. No way...it couldn't be...Is this some crazy dream or some kind of hell? That sword. The stunned vampire holstered his firearm and retrieved his zweihander. Then he bent low over each corpse in the room in turn, sniffing for good blood. Toreadors were slightly picky, especially one as humane as Trevlac. Finally finding a good body (a young woman who must've just entered adulthood) Trevlac drank as dignified as possible for someone committing such an atrocity.

Ordin screwed his face up in a way that made him look ridiculous and muttered, "I dunno what the fuck you're saying,"

Removing a cigarette from his thin silver case, he popped it into his mouth and lit it. The blue smoke formed a wreath about his head and drifted away. Taking a long drag, he exhaled a plume of noxious fumes and looked a the scene that had unfolded around them.

Probably a dozen mangled human corpses lay strewn all over the place, organs shooting out all over, arms here and there, some broken teeth and massive pools of blood. Some townspeople were huddled in the corner, crying and whispering, some of the men just say and look dejected and the broken remnants of their family. Not a whole lot was going on besides hysteria and a deafening roar. It hurt Ordin's ears. He didn't like it.

"C'mon, Trevlac. We're going. There are gonna be a hundred werewolves popping in here looking for their murdered friends," he glanced at the blood-covered Trevlac and raised an eyebrow, "I can't believe you thought you could escape them by slathering yourself in their prince's blood. They smell that shit and they know what dog's blood smells like."

Exiting the building through one of the massive holes in the wall, he started down the cobblestone path, heading North. It still hadn't begun to rain but it was much colder than before. He pulled his traveling cloak tightly around him and watched the glistening trees of lightning illuminate the night sky,

Lightning strikes the belltower, causing it to explode:

Random number (1,10) : 10

Feeling satiated from the fresh blood, Trevlac followed Ordin from the inn and into the night. What a wonderful night to-- the most thunder iron hammer strike of lightning dove toward the tower in the distance, drilling into it with the fury of Raijin himself, causing a grandiose explosion with pieces of rubble and cracked bell raining everywhere. A deafening peal of thunder and the sound shit makes when it explodes burst forth and Trevlac had to shield his ears to keep them from bleeding. The most visceral peal of laughter followed the strike and explosion. It occurred in Trevlac's very head rather than outside. Trevlac suddenly remembered what Ordin told him in the inn, They're trying to summon Beelzebub, and it was then that the vampire realized what must have happened.

"I'm pretty sure we've got one of the Generals of Hell coming our way. Obviously we don't run, but we should probably get a plan in action. How far can Godfist stab exactly?" Trevlac squatted low to the ground so that he could formulate even as Ordin did. Between the both of them, he was confident they would think of some way to take down even a general of hell itself.

Trevlac thinks of finding a bell, if fail, Beelze attacks them

Random number (1,10) : 1

Lightning struck the bell tower, expounding electricity and heat in all directions. Flaming rubble and shards of molten metal rained all around them, massive boulders piling into houses, crushing the occupants. Screeches of human life being extinguished mixed with the echoing boom forming a cacophony only demonic energies could inspire. Ordin unconsciously threw himself into the wet mud for protection, but realized how silly he appeared and clambered to his feet.

Trevlac's plan for a plan seemed like a good idea to the priest, he scratched his beard with a free hand while twisting a cigarette around the fingers of the other. "Well, it's about five and a half feet but it can come out of any surface that's within my line of sight that's wide enough for its penetration. No coming out of flies or anything, that's just ridiculous."

As if by cue, a large horsefly perched itself upon the end of the priest's nose. It crawled about, cleaning its mandible. Bile welled in his spine and a shiver shook his throat. It wasn't exactly a phobia, but Ordin couldn't stand flies of any sort. He absolutely hated the buzzing noise they make...

"What the fuck is this god damn flies problem?" he growled as he plucked it from his nose. It made no intention to escape but rather simply sat there. He strained is muscles, tendons working, and eventually the oversized creature popped like a grape. But something was wrong. As its insectoid entrails began to seep out over Ordin's hand they began to burn. He tried rubbing it off on his jacket and the grass, but it wouldn't come off. The heat grew more and more until his hand screamed in agony. "FUCK FUCK. WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS!!" he shouted clutching his smoking hand.

Suddenly, they were all over. Thousands of flies. Millions of flies. Quarter-sized, hideous creatures. Their sound was intense, like a freight train going through a tornado full of white noise that fired elephants. He compressed his ears and sank to his knees, almost in tears.

From the shadows of the trees, the subtle outline of a man can be vaguely seen from the camouflage of the dark. From the hiding spot, The outline of his dark cloak and mask scarred from hundreds of hunts can barely be seen, but at the same time bring out the vibrancy of his pale turquoise eyes.

"God dammit I told those three to stay put until I gave the fucking order to attack!" Lightning streaked brightly across the sky, missing the bell tower, but creating a deafening sound to anyone near the bell tower and illuminating the darkness surrounding the man and a pack of 10 other werewolves. "Although, a battle lost is intelligence won. We now know how strong they are. We will now wait until the opportune time to strike. Lie in wait here and watch for my signal. I'm going to move closer."

From the group, there were nods and whispered responses, "Yes Daius."

Move closer unseen. If fail, become more obvious in hiding spot: Focus -1

Random number (1,10) : 4

They were everywhere, an army of giant flies was swarming the duo like an underworld battalion. Trevlac stood calmly still, panicking would not yield a plan worthy of his intelligence. From what happened with Ordin it was pretty obvious that they were going to get nowhere by attacking them unless they wanted to never have skin again. Then it was clear that if these flies behaved like normal flies, then they would have no way to attack Ordin and Trevlac.

"We must calmly walk out with our hands over our faces, Ordin. We'll go off at an angle into those trees where..." ...Trevlac stopped mid-sentence as he noticed a hooded person failing to conceal himself in the trees above. Whatever. "Erm, let's just get the fuck to those trees." he now had to yell at Ordin and shield his face because the onslaught of hundreds of thousands of flies was all around them, the buzzing was deafening to the core.

They make it to the trees near Daius without getting lost focus -2

Random number (1,10) : 8

The words left Trevlac's mouth, floating through the buzzing abyss and around the forms of the insane flies. They landed gently upon Ordin's ear. Though barely audible the vibrations still took on a recognizable form. Throwing the hood of his covering over his face and keeping his head down he churned through the muck and pestilence. He ran, full of fear, he ran with nothing but an animalistic thought screaming into his brain: "FUCKING GO OR YOU'RE GONNA DIE."

Before his spazzing mind had time to comprehend it he burst through the underbrush of the forest. He didn't feel tired at all, better yet, he felt full of energy. Slowly, sanity seeped back into his brain and so did the searing pain in his hand. It felt as though it was being pressed into a hot griddle. He gritted his teeth and growled;

"Did you see that fucker watching us? What's your plan now Trevlac?."

He glared up at the shadowing figure and fingered the leathery hilt of Godfist the Ravager.

Daius cursed under his breath. He knew he had been seen. He motioned to the rest of the group to hold their position and moved along the shadows of the trees silently. The Werewolf glared down upon the pale one, This one is rather smart. By the looks of his skin, he must be a vampire. Daius smirked, His skin is so fucking pale It's like following the moon through these trees.

Daius pointed to both of his eyes, then pointed to the vampire. He then made a circular motion with his finger. The group nodded and followed closely above making sure they all had an eye on the vampire and his accomplice. Daius reached into the side pocket of his pants to pull out a piece of salted jerky and proceeded to remove his mask and munch on the delicious meat, Let's see what your next move is... He took the last bite of the small piece of jerky then replaced his mask over his face, hiding the scar under his right eye.

The flight from the situation was rougher than Trevlac had expected, still, he was surprised that they had encountered three werewolves and a swarm of horseflies without even a scratch up to this point. Now there was a failure stalker sitting in the trees above them with a few cronies it seemed. Their rest was short-lived however because the Lord of Flies himself was drawing near. The thick, black, horde of flies created a fog from which he emerged. He was bipedal, wearing a biker jacket and leather pants. He had a third eye in his head and giant horns growing out in a twisted figure. Along his belt were four knives and two revolvers. His leather pants and boots were studded with metal plates and razor spikes. It was pretty odd, to say the least, seeing a human looking demon emerge from a summoning bolt of lightning and then converge upon them. Human except the thick black tail that swished behind him.

It was all Trevlac could do to keep from pissing his pants. The Demon Lord was allowed to draw closer as he stood, frozen, in fear. It reached for the revolvers at his side and fired a shot at the vampire. Unable to think, the bullet sank deep into his left arm and exited clean though. The hole burned closed as the vampire unconsciously regenerated. And then it snapped him out of the stupor. Panicking, he grabbed the first weapon he could, and swung it hard several times in front of him. Beelzebub simply continued to march closer and slammed his fist with an unearthly might into Trevlac's face, sending him flying backwards. The sword he swung was no longer in his hands...

"What the..." the injured and surprised vampire said.

Beelze hit for 1, I used 1 focus to regen, and he hit for 2.

The ungodly noise of buzzing insects drew closer again, before Trevlac had spoken they erupted from the air and dissipated as if they were the consistency of vapor. The smell of sulfur filled the air as the Lord of Flies, Beelzebub descended on them. Ordin was dumbstruck and the first thought the popped in his head was what the fuck is that demon wearing? The second thoughts were oh shit! he's shooting! followed by quickly withdrawing Godfist and plunging it into a nearby tree.. He hoped it would come out at just the right angle to accomplish a simple task...

Godfist comes out of the ground, impaling Beelzebub where he stands. -4 focus

Random number (1,10) : 10

The sheen of steel was visible as a quick flash running upward from the ground and through Beelzebub's rectum. It soon pierced through the top of his skull. His shocked expression only lasted a moment before the demon general smiled (twisted, as a sword was still going through his mouth), and made to pull it out. Before he could even bend down to do so, five black glittery flashes sliced through the space that his cranium enveloped. Beelzebub didn't even get a chance to scream before his head was severed into ten individual pieces. Trevlac was certain now of what his sword did. When he willed it to swing, it did nothing in reality. Only a minute or so later, it actually does swing. His scimitar traveled into the near future.

All that was left was a now-limp headless figure of the biker demon lord with the point of an Odachi sticking though his neck. The brutal chunks of head lay all about the grass, soaking in through. "You know Ordin, that was entirely too easy. I'm serious. I've read all about Beelzebub in the Megiddon, and he doesn't have any regenerative powers but he should have put up more of a fight than that. Or maybe this is just one of those situations where luck was not his friend." Trevlac mused over the kill. He cautiously bent forward to verify the kill. Indeed, there was no heartbeat and the chunks of head were not pulling themselves back together.

But why? No, I think I know. Even a general of hell can be caught off-guard. He assumed to fight two helpless humans and instead found they had very unpredictable weapons. Ordin's alone and mine alone could not have taken him down, but Godfist and...well, I'll call it Glittertind the Render; Godfist and Glittertind together could do it. The inner-monologue stopped as Trevlac sheathed his weapons and turned to Ordin, bruises on his white face from the devastating hammer fist he took. "I think we just leveled up, Father Ordin. And apparently learned a dual attack."

Through sheer dumb-luck they had taken out a general of hell. It's a good thing he was lower on the powers chain than the others. If he could regenerate it's possible they would have been finished much sooner. In fact, if they didn't finish Beelzebub quickly he could have raised a legion of dead bodies to fight.

Daius leaned against the trunk of the tree in awe. That... was... Beelzebub! God dammit! How the hell is that possible!? These two destroyed him without breaking a sweat! Daius attempted to hide his eyes and the slight amount of fear that showed, but it was only the tip of the iceberg. He felt cold fear. It was gripping, and he didn't like it.

He attempted to shake his fear and grabbed the hilt of his short sword in a white knuckle grasp. He motioned for the group to head back to the tribe and relay the information they have learned. With a nod from the group, they disappeared into the trees making haste back to the camp, leaving Daius alone in the trees.

Daius attempted to drop to the ground, but he couldn't. Fear kept him gripped to the tree. This is suicide. If I attack, They will kill me. I would best use a different tactic...

Daius took his short sword off of his back and removed one knife and his revolver from his body and placed it on a tree branch. The only knife he kept was the one that was strapped to his leg. He took a deep breath in, breathed out, then dropped to the ground in plain sight of the two men.

"It's amazing. Both of you took down Beelzebub without breaking a sweat. You two are quite strong." He scratched the side of his head, "To be honest you two seem like you could take on the Legions of Hell on your own."

The lone figure they had spotted earlier dropped from the tree above them. Had he been watching the whole time? He seemed to carry no weapon but a single blade strapped to his leg, so appeared to be of no threat. His complement, though, bolstered Ordin's ego.

"Yeah, you're right," he raised an eyebrow, "who are you? Why are you following us?"

Looking into the newcomer's eyes with withdrew godfist, allowing Beelzebub's headless corpse to slink to the ground, and made no attempt to sheathe it. He didn't want to appear threatening, but didn't want to let his guard down until this man had proven himself to have benevolent intentions.

Luther has observed the vampire's and human's fight with Beelzebub and was now looking on as the victors were confronted by someone else. He heard of a group summoning a Demon Lord and feared that it was the Cabal again. While he was proven wrong, it did not alleviate his fears. After all, if werewolves could summon a General of Hell, then it was most likely not beyond a Tremere's power to summon a demon who was rumored to rival Yahweh's powers.

But she's dead, Luther thought, Folund and I killed her. Her lackeys don't even have half her power and strength. They can't summon him.

Luther shook his head free of his idle thoughts. His business here ceased the second Beelzebub's time on this planet did. He picked up his suitcase and took a last glance at the duo who defeated the Lord of Flies with nary a sweat drop.

"Crazy bastards," Luther muttered under his breath as he turned and started his trek out of the woods, hoping not run into either the duo or any werewolves.

A smile crept across the face of the battle-stricken Trevlac. Ignoring the spy, he turned to Ordin and said, "Stay here with this guy for a sec. I have business to attend to." and he leaped into the tree, accidentally knocking over the weapons so precariously perched upon a branch. He paid them no mind as they fell from the underbrush, and continued onward following his target. In only a few seconds, he caught up to a familiar face and rushed down at him. "Luther my boy! Good to see you, ex-employee of mine." Trevlac greeted him warmly with a smile and an outstretched hand.

He was very curious as to both how Luther was able to follow them and why he was here. Man...lots of people tailing us today. We must be getting rusty. the vampire thought sardonically.

Luther smirked as he saw the blonde vampire. He mentally kicked himself at not recognizing him at first.

"Son of a bitch," Luther said wryly, "Thought I ditched your ass permenantly when we finished that job, Trev." He then looked back again at the clearing. "Looks like you and that wackjob of a priest had some fun while I was absent," he commented, "Anyways, this lead's a dead end, unfortunately. And I don't know about you, but I don't feel like dealing with werewolves tonight. So, ciao for now, Boss." He said the last word with a slight dryness to it, since he never considered Trevlac as a boss. More like one of those people who always seem to be a magnet for trouble and Luther thought Trevlac and Ordin were a couple of the strongest magnets of all.

Dauis slightly bowed in respect to the human, "My name is Daius." He righted himself and fixed the fingerless gloves on his hands to make them feel more comfortable. If it wasn't for this mask... he would probably see I'm scared witless of him right now. "I've been following you for some time as you have mentioned, but trust me, I mean no harm to you or your companion. I am simply here to bring you a warning."

He glanced over to the new comer and silently felt relieved that the new vampire wouldn't stay. It was already hard enough to deal with a human and a vampire with such strength, let alone a third person.

"You have caused a great disturbance with many of the local packs of werewolves in this area. I wouldn't be surprised if every one of them were to come after you." He glanced over at the lifeless body of Beelzebub and then glanced at the blade that was gripped in the human's hand, "And judging by what they summoned, it looks like they want you dead and will stop at nothing to do it."

Ordin furrowed his brow at the newcomer, peering into his eyes. "If that was indeed Beelzebub, the General of Hell, the thing we can worry the very least about are some mangy fucking cannibalistic rats getting into a tuff," he sighed, watching Trevlac hop away and subsequently the falling weaponry that shot out of his ass as he hobbled into a tree. Looking back to the man named Daius, he continued.

"So really, you're probably a fool if you thought we gave a shit. Let me ask you again--WHY are you FOLLOWING us?"

The last five words came out more as a belchy growl. He felt his knuckles bleach and his eyes started getting dry. Maybe there was more to that horrible acidic fly than he though... the pain still wasn't gone... or maybe it was simple rage, hatred for these silly little being that dance into the arena thinking they can offer a lil fuzzy hand. Give the fucking world warm fuzzies or some other shit.

Ordin's hand shot to his jacket, his nostrils flared, there was a flash of light.


And a lit cigarette was in his mouth.