The Wanderer...

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The Wanderer...

Post by Balthazar on Wed Jun 26, 2013 1:03 am

Pittsburgh.....that was the place.....a Childer to locate, another soul brought into the night, to judge and be judged......

The city was quiet, the scent of death still on the air for those who could sense it. Souls cried out for a life cheaply lost, and the spirits cried for vengeance against wrongs both real and imagined...

Visions of the rot within New York still fresh in his mind, the Wanderer slides out of the shadows among the trees of Squirrel Hill. Somewhere in this place of new beginnings, was an old story, a new cycle of an ancient curse.

Straightening the black woolen cloak around himself, and making sure the hood was low enough to keep out the idle prying eyes of strangers, he began to walk towards the Cathedral of Learning, awaiting any who would approach.
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Re: The Wanderer...

Post by Admin on Wed Jun 26, 2013 2:00 am

The rain tore through his nearly incorporeal form as the wind carried him in from the West. He knew where he was going, he had been there before, but never with such an empty heart... This was his home, so many years before, but now it seemed so distant, so unreachable, so unfamiliar. The steel monoliths that hid so much from prying eyes before now seemed so transparent...

As he reformed his body upon the precipice of the mountain, a scent thought lost on the most terrifying of winds washed itself over him...

Blood.........

Not the blood which keeps him alive, nor the blood spilt of his targets, but rather the blood of the ones he couldn't save... No, not blood... guilt... He paced around for a few moments but no matter where he turned, the stench followed him. What was it about this place, this circle drawn centuries before him, that took his mind to the most dangerous of places... Still the smell of blood... But without it he would most likely have failed a hundred times where he had found victory. Nefarious thoughts crept into his head, and he tried desperately to scratch them out... His face now wet... Without this place he would have never found his purpose within the Sword of Caine, or moreover, the world itself. Why couldn't he get away from that infernal smell? What was it, how was it always able to find him?

Blood on his hands........

He stared down at his razor sharp fins, they had somehow popped out without him even knowing. Unfeeling to the pain everytime they tore through his flesh... He raised his head and as he did they were all in front of him... Bleeding, scarred, and dead... This place, this awful place, was many things to many people at every point in history since its creation...

To him, it was a graveyard........

Standing before the legions of those he had failed, those that no matter the number he saved would always counter balance the scales in their favor, were two faces he never wanted to see again, but somehow were always welcome... Both stood there, in the places they died, perhaps not where they met final death, but definitely where they died...

Blood on his hands, blood on this ground...........

He stood up, never having realized he had fallen to his knees... This was not a safe place for him anymore, at least not now with what was coming... A feeling of relief washed over him as his mind made itself up invoulentarily... This js not where he would meet those of his blood... One closer, one farther, both had their own agendas, and he feared they would soon be caught by their own ambitions and stabbed in the back...

"Never safe, always watching..........."

What did that mean? Why had he said it out loud? No one was watching him, no one was there, he was alone, or as alone as he ever was... No, he knew who was watching, or, what was watching... The city itself always had its eyes, a living construct, an engine marching forward to the percussive beat its wheels of fate made against its track to hell...

God save them, God save them all...........

He needed to warn them, but the city has an effect on those within it... No he would stay outside this time, but he needed to see it one more time, get one more taste, one more high... He pulled himself together and then used the power within his blood to tear himself apart... Let the wind take him where he needed to be... Not for those he needed to save, but just this once, for himself...

He needed to save himself...........
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Re: The Wanderer...

Post by BrandonS on Fri Jun 28, 2013 8:19 pm

Crouched next to a filthy homeless person is a pale man in a leather jacket. His clothes hide most of his frame but he's obviously a big guy. Nevertheless, he seems to have perfect balance as he leans over and places a prepaid cell in the beggar's jacket. Shark glimpses the swish of a cloak in his periphery and turns to see the cloaked figure. "That would be a great example of what you could call me for." He throws a 20 down and says to the now scrambling man, "and that's just a little of what you can get."

Shark stands and walks towards the dark stranger. Eyeing him up as he approaches Shark decides their meeting could use some privacy and modifies his path so they'll meet in a patch of fog. Once close he says, "can I help you stranger?"
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Re: The Wanderer...

Post by Balthazar on Sat Jun 29, 2013 1:15 am

The cloaked figure glides along,arms folded in front of him and obscured by his sleeves, head slightly bowed.. silent but for the sounds of the woolen fabric rubbing against itself...

His head inclines suddenly, and he stops, as though listening to or for something..standing in the fog bank, obscured from the prying eyes of the often over curious, he whispers a a rasping platitude, an acknowledgement for a job well done.

He stops, seemingly aware, but unable to perceive the approaching presence.
His arms remain folded into the sleeves of his robe, he rests immobile, what was once a fluid glide has halted, and for all outside observation may not have been moving at all.

Once the silence is broken, the wanderer's head shifts ever so slightly in the direction of the voice that cut through the darkness..

"There is one I must speak to, and others to whom honor should be shown, as is the way. If you know of what I speak, then we may yet be of help to each other. If you do not, then this may very well be the end of a sadly short journey through life."

The Wandered stops moving  - and stands at a restful position with his arms staying folded within the volumes of his robe sleeves. A Disquieting howl cuttin gthrough the wind, as he awaits this strangers answer....
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Re: The Wanderer...

Post by BrandonS on Sat Jun 29, 2013 2:31 pm

"Lucky for me, my sad short journey ended in favor of a round two. If you're lookin to meet the ducti or someone else within the sword, I might be able to help. First, I'm gonna need a name."
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Re: The Wanderer...

Post by Balthazar on Sat Jun 29, 2013 3:02 pm

The cowl of the hood twitches in the direction of the voice, leaning slightly towards it....as the words trail off into the night the cowl twitches back, and drops forward, as though in a polite bow...

"My name is Balthazar, My bloods bloods resides in this city, but there are formalities to such things. The sword has taken its steps to reclaim and defend, and I would do nothing to disturb this progress...."

His words pause, the cowl twitches one more as if listening to unseen voices in the mist....

"My blood is here as well, wandering the back roads of his own pain and anguish, but he has his own journey....Yes, I should meet the Ductus whose territory I am in, to give respect, where it is due. Then perhaps you can help me locate the one now known as Davias."
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Re: The Wanderer...

Post by BrandonS on Sat Jun 29, 2013 3:47 pm

Shark waits politely through the theatrics and bows in response. He found them a waste of time but long ago he decided he can’t be annoyed with everybody. It just doesn’t get you anywhere and everyone has their kink. So he’d tolerate the ones who live a separate, superior vampiric existence and the ones who roll around in pointless human culture, aping human trends, well it’s not like they live long anyway.

“You can call me Shark. I’m with GMV and we control this area. My Ductis may be lingering close to the cathedral so we can head that way.” He turns towards the cathedral and begins walking. “I remember the name Davias and something said about New York, but almost all of us are new here. Do you know his packs name?” As he talks you can tell he’s now suspicious monitoring the fog or perhaps mist as he walks.
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Re: The Wanderer...

Post by Balthazar on Sat Jun 29, 2013 5:22 pm

Balthazar turns toward the voice, studying the creature that stands before him.... the lower half of his face, covered in Crocodile scale is just visible in the pale light diffusing through the fog.....a smile, feral and much to large for the face it occupies splits across the visage..

"Shark it is then. I do not know if Davias yet walks with a pack, only that his blood calls across the miles to me, as his sire's did in the past. He has come to this place, and I would meet him to see what it is that has brought into the night."

His held tilts to the side, pausing briefly, before returns to being focused on Shark...

"This is your land, and your protectorate, lead on."
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Re: The Wanderer...

Post by BrandonS on Mon Jul 01, 2013 10:47 pm

(OOC: Want to move to the A visitor on the doorstep [6/24/2013, Cathedral of Learning, 11pm, Pack SOL, OPEN] thread?)
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Re: The Wanderer...

Post by Balthazar on Tue Jul 02, 2013 11:14 pm

Yeppers - seems like a perfect itme....
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Re: The Wanderer...

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