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Vampyre /ˈVæm.paɪ.ə(ɹ)

Creator of a Blood Line

Founder of the Black Gate Society

""I am the bird on whose wings the great secrets lie, the man whose words quell the rage and sorrow of lesser souls. Wisdom lies in my soul, for centuries of pain burn within my great heart. My children are many...yet we are so few. Aeternitas quod post mea oculi."

"Shall I tell you my story?"

Dorian's tale begins nearly two aeons ago, in what is now known as East Africa- the age before an age. Scientists say that they date the modern human race back only a few dozen millennia ago...but the truth is, they are far older. How does one know? Well...Dorian was there, and so were his entire family. They were among the nearly twelve thousand strong humans that existed at the time, mortals made by the gods to serve a purpose- worshipers, and warriors. The species as a whole were hunters, fighters, relentless in their task, and devoted to their people. War was all too common, and the mortality rate was high. Yet, one tribe was different- the Mair'ka. One of the oldest tribes founded, they were intelligent, capable of complex language and crafting of homes and weapons. Their people were nomadic, yet strong willed and hardy.

At the head of the tribe was Ar'du, and his mate, Ma'llul- the patriarch and matriarch of the grand people. Their word was law, and none disobeyed. They had 4 children, Za'luch, Brena, De'ku, and Du'ri, all wise and creative. However, they would not remain this way. Over the span of ten years, the peoples moved from Africa to the highlands of Scotland, where they encountered their greatest allies...and worst foes. The witches themselves were a strong people, made by the gods before man, they were wise and arrogant, and often brought storms to cleanse the land. Among the first tribes to settle, was the Ke'woo- powerful witches, who could summon fire from the skies, and dry the rivers. It was this clan that met with the Mair'ka, and made with them a pact in blood- gifting them with lands to the North, and plentiful growth for centuries to come.

Yet peace was not to last. On the eighth year of their agreement, the Mair'ka broke the pact, and raided the Ke'woo's great tree- the Ygyama, where they had hollowed out a home for all. Dozens were slaughtered, and the tree damaged beyond reason. The Mair'ka returned home with fruit, vegetables, meats, and intricate trinkets from another world. It was this very act that sealed their fate. The remaining Ke'woo led their own raid, and brought down a horrendous storm from the sky. Fire washed through the land, the earth quaked, and the very woods came alive with darkened rage. When at last only the head family remained, the Ke'woo laid upon them a curse- no longer would they age, nor feel the warmth of the sun. Their blood would hunger, and they would be known as monsters to all. 

From that day on, the Mair'ka were no more...broken beyond repair. However, not all was lost- while cursed to live only at night, and forever hungering for the blood of man, the family possessed incredible gifts. They were stronger than the mightiest man, able to shatter rock; their speed was beyond the animals, able to run as if the winds were at their feet; their bodies, once able to ail from sickness and wounds, healed and became impervious to damage from almost all things; and their senses made the greatest of predators shame itself. Among these gifts, one stood above all- the ability to make others like them, with the use of their accursed blood. Twas this that saved the family, for with that blood, they were able to build an army the likes of which could, and cannot, be rivaled. 


Dorian was different from his family though- while they sought to wreak war upon the Ke'woo, he sought knowledge and power. He separated himself from his family for centuries, scouring the land and leaving tablets of stone and chalf in his wake. His mark was left on the world forever, as his writings were discovered eons later by the earliest civilizations. From these writings came the first languages, writings on cave walls, and scriptures in stone. Dozens of different cultures founded their alphabets on him, and in time, this developed into the singular written alphabet made by the Phoenicians- Proto-Canaanite. Later, the Greeks and Romans developed Latin, which became the language upon which many were formed.

Across time, Dorian has played some small part in the events of the world, from great tragedies, to grand epics, to the advent of an era. He was there when the last of the mammoths were slain, the creation of the first language, the construction and later destruction of the first grand city, and later- the rise of Greece. From there he participated in the construction of Rome, the rise of democracy in Athens, the birth and death of Confucius, Socrates' first declaration, and eventually- the events of Jesus Christ (someone he came to detest due to his false fame). After this point in time, Dorian vanished for the better part of seven hundred years, only popping up roughly a millennium later, at the start of the First Crusade in 1099 AD. Upon his return, it was revealed that he had been staked and beheaded by angry villagers sometime after the death of Caligula, and left in a stone sarcophagus to rot. 

Over the course of the next three hundred years, Dorian explored the eastern continents, learning much of how the world had changed. Many cities had been built, and many had been torn down- evidence of his time away. In the year 1349, he joined the newly established University of Prague, and stayed his years there as a professor in history and ideals. This lasted for the better half of twenty years, before he faked his death to avoid suspicion. From there, he made his way west, where he took part in the trial of Joan of Arc, and the coronation of King Henry VI in France. Nearly a century later, he became the lover and muse of a young Leonardo da Vinci in 1472, before leaving his side in 1489- only three decades before the man's death. Later he became the secreted lover of Raphael, who in 1520, aided in his 'death', and turned him into a vampyre. They parted ways in 1552, after which point Dorian remained alone for nearly another forty years, simply enjoying his home in Paris until the year 1587, when he traveled to Italy, and crossed paths with Galileo Galilei. 

The two spent an innordinate amount of time together, before Galileo abandoned Dorian to continue his research. After that, Dorian was once more apprehended, this times at the hands of one of his younger progeny- a women named Doris Yarma. She had sworn to bring him to heel, and used her newly gained powers to imprison him in his family's tomb for a century. He was later rescued by his sister, Brennan, who revived him with her blood, and brought him back to France to recover. Thanks to the efforts of his family, they'd been hounded back to his home, which now hosted the finest security in Europe- a full score of ancient vampyres. In the year 1795, Dorian joined the French military, and served as a lieutenant under Napoleon Bonaparte. The two were oddly arranged lovers, sneaking away at times before battle or locking themselves in the strategy room. When Napoleon supposedly died of a stomach ulcer, Dorian fed him his blood, and once more added an immortal to the world. They did not however remain together, and Dorian quickly left. Much of the time after that is left unknown, that is until 1968.

It was the summer of 1968, a Sunday morning. Dorian strolled the streets of New York City, his head held low, and his recently created sun ring bound to his finger. A grin was on his face, for the news spoke of good tidings in Vietnam- news that pleased him, under the circumstances. He crossed the street from South Ave. onwards towards a bakery, barely stopping to look at the cars in his way. The moment he crossed, he knew he was screwed. Standing in front of the bakery was the youngest of the Kenwood family- Jakob. A fetching lad by all accounts, and possibly the most gentlemanly of them all. The pair had met once before, in the city of Prague during Dorian's tenure. They'd exchanged feelings, but had split off before anything could come of it.

Breathing in, the vampyre strolled over, and so their new life began. For two and a half years, Dorian and Jakob shared a secret relationship, one that was agreed on by one side, while the other held no prospects of love for it. Things weren't meant to last though, as on the night of July 18th, 1970, things came to a brutal halt. Dorian's father returned home that night with a gift for his son, and without warning, entered the room. He had indeed expected Dorian to be caught with a lover...but not Jakob. Upon his discovery of their relationship, he flung the gift away, and dragged Jakob back to his family, flinging him to them in a fit of rage. Thankfully, the lad survived...and Dorian...well, he got something worse. Once more dragged to the family crypt, he was stocked there for the better part of forty-eight years, until a collective of his sirelings dug him up. They gave their lives to resurrect him, and in so doing awakened the ancient immortal. Now weakened, Dorian's path stands uncertain...and undone...

Black Gate - Shadows Personified

 

Sometime after the construction of Rome, Dorian disappeared for a time, entirely vanishing from history for a few years. Few know the secret of why, and those that do, are either amongst those belonging to Dorian's inner circle, or long since dead. The truth of the matter is that Dorian began to collect minds of the highest order- people bent on the idea of collecting and amassing the greatest collection of knowledge known to the world. His first five members were amongst his sirelings- vampyres of elder age. Together, they formed a secretive society, known only as Niger In Porta or The Black Gate. Over the course of centuries, the organization's ranks swelled, including the likes of Alexander the Great, Confucius, Socrates, Julius Caesar, Ganghes Khan, and many more. When Dorian left the world for his slumber, the organization took its greatest steps, and brought technology to the world- inventions beyond imagining. Through the workings of magick and tech, they created things known only to the gods.

A millennium later, mankind felt the tithes of Leonardo da Vinci, who took his role among the Black Gate whilst with Dorian. Later, Raphael joined, replacing the dead inventor. In time, the society made the leap forward, and forced the world to see the Industrial Age- the Era of Steam. From trains, to engines, to vehicular travel, the vampyres behind the society made the world better...while hiding behind the shadows of the government. Since that time, they have only enlarged, with many of the organization's highest members being either vampyres...or wealthy businessmen who hide their name. However, one thing is never disputed- all understandings and laws pass through Dorian, regardless of how long it is before such things change. 

The last time that law was unabided, was in 1860, when one of the junior members attempted to bring in automatic machinery. Dorian, sensing the danger that may cause, rejected the project. Naturally it was brought forth anyway, and many suffered for that mistake. The individual behind it, a young upstart by the name of Jonathan Harkman, promptly disappeared. As to how, or why...none know. The only one with the knowledge to that, is Dorian...

Should one ask to join the organization, they must first find their headquarters in London, hidden underneath of a cover shop known as Shatner's Wonders- a wonky camera and antiquity shop. Three knocks on their back door and the given phrase- "Aeternitas quod post mea oculi," and one is able to enter. They are promptly led into a tunnel, which then enters into an elevator. This takes them down nearly three hundred feet, to the true base of operations...

 

More About The Elder

Dorian is an ancient immortal vampyre, one without a relationship currently under his belt. He is generally disinterested in having one, due to losing many of his former lovers and even his family, over the long centuries. If anyone is able to pry deep enough to change this however, they may find themselves in his graces and loving arms.

To say more, Dorian is often described as the kindest of his relatives, the youngest and yet the most passionate. Where all others of his family fight and war over petty squabbles, this vampire focuses on the finer things in life. He acts as a regal historian, possibly even a philosopher, yet never lords himself over those of lesser stature or wealth. Should one see him on the streets, they will find him doing one of two things- donating money to those who need it, and helping individuals in pain or suffering. To top it off, his view of the world is one seen through the eyes of a lover. Over the centuries, he's been powered by love- love of himself, of his partners, and the world itself. He is overall enthused by the modern world, its fallacies and intricate weavings. It is for this reason he likes things such as earthen life, material possessions and men, making friends with the people of the world, curiosities and trinkets, the forests and all their inhabitants, love and forbidden romance, the books and scriptures written by great authors, and the acts of adventure that come from trying new things. He is also a fan of television and films, participating in competitive and friendly games, flirtation of any kind, and surprisingly...his own immortality.


What he does not like however, is death- despite often being the cause of it, murder by any means, other vampyres and their conceted ideals, warfare, physical and verbal abuse for both humanity and himself, and racism born of superiority...

 

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Character Inventory

  • Custom Tailored Suits - Suit 1 | Suit 2 | Suit 3 | Suit 4 | Suit 5 | Suit 6 | Suit 7 | Suit 8 | Suit 9

  • About the Writer (OOC)

    For those of you wanting to know, the author behind this character is named Quinn Martens. I am an experienced roleplayer and writer, having started about six years ago, at the beginning of my middle school journey. Now, I am a senior in high school, going through as a graphics and psychology major. If anyone wants to roleplay, hit me with an Inbox Message, Direct Message, email me, or if you want to- add me on PSN. My preferred themes for writing are fantasy, romance, violence, gore, action, and adventure. Aside from these, I am quite adaptable to most scenarios, and can write paragraph to multi-paragraph, though I have no preference for either.

  • Other Characters Played: Saiid of Ofir and Killian Demet
  • Email: quinn.martens.bobbitt@gmail.com
  • PSN: Deaths_Wrath56

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    Comments

    • There are some nights where it would be easy to forget her place. El isn’t here to make friends, orto rub elbows with powerful people and beings. The curse of being a Hunter made it so- she lived more similarly to the monsters she took out than the humans she belonged with and protected. Here, amid the bustling, lively party, it took no effort at all to engage in the masquerade.

      The facade of normalcy is directed to the agonizingly beautiful immortal that she speaks with at the slowly revolving bar. She is unaware of the watching Dorian above, however, focused only on her target. The younger vampire is met with a seraphic smile.

      “I came to enjoy the party. A friend couldn’t make it, so I came in their place.” Lenny lies smoothly, pausing to sip delicately at the champagne glass in her fingers. Her eyes never leave the immortal, even as she feigns surprise. “Brutal?” She asks, furrowing her brows in fake concern.

      She’d played this ruse a number of times. There are little advantages to the frailty of being human, but one of them is underestimation. Poison oft accompanies beauty, and unfortunately for this young man, his keen, supernatural senses seem to miss the warning signs.

      “What do you mean by that?” The Huntress is curious about how much information he’ll spill, and how far a little questioning might get her. She’ll have to be as careful as tiptoeing across eggshells, though, as she is far outnumbered, should any of them suspect a Hunter in their midst. Tact would be the name of the game tonight, a struggle for the fiery female.

    • The swanky club overlooking the glittering lights of the French Quarter was nothing short of spectacular. In the fog of a hazy bayou night, it seemed to know nothing of the impending cold creeping along the rest of the country. It payed no mind to Jack Frost’s icy fingers and instead flourished under the ad nauseum warm weather. The Big Easy remained a hub of bustling activity, even this late at night.

       

      Low and heavy hung the moon, a silver beacon in a dark canvas of inky black void, lighting up the cobblestone streets and old, secret alleys. Melodic, soft jazz floated gently down every corner of the oldest parts of New Orleans. The magic buzzing excitedly in the atmosphere was undeniable, rich and as palpable as the city’s lengthy history.

       

      On one such lively street is where we find our lovely Huntress.

       

      The Hotel Monteleone sat on the corner of Royal and Iberville streets. The upscale, opulent motel was host to many a famous guest, many souls came in and out and as much money followed. The famous Carousel Bar, located inside, rotates slowly while guests enjoy expensive cocktails. A band plays in the corner, and the chatter is almost louder than the music. Located in the center, among the posh dress and ritzy patrons, sits a vision in red. Dark locks spill in carefully styled waves, and red painted lips move while she leans in to speak conspiratorially to a man dressed smartly in a tweed suit.

       

      He is not human, and the look dancing behind his baby blue gaze whispers of a hunger for more than just the charming woman he is speaking with.

       

      Unbeknownst to him, he hasn’t wandered in on easy prey. Eleanor Kane isn’t exactly here for pleasure, either. The drink in her cup only appears alcoholic, and underneath that pretty red dress are more than a few carefully placed blades. She has followed this monster here, a game of cat and mouse in which the roles are still yet unclear.

    • The silence dragged on as nothing but. His thoughts were teeming over the offer set before him. Where an outwardly stoic expression may fool the average observer, Dominic’s blank gaze held its own hints. From the subtle initial tugs at the corner of his mouth, to the way the man’s jaw went slack. There would not be enough time to fully process what had been given to him, although life events would not always work at a pace that was desired.

      With his question posed, the response was waited upon rather diligently. The answer was simple. They had been watching long enough. From England to New York? All his mishaps be damned? His dealings, and finally the business he had established. He spoke no further in regard to it when the Elder’s tone brought a notion of ease over the situation… and so he would hang onto it from there on.
      When the other crept closer in his seat, Dominic was compelled to do similar as he leaned in just ever so slightly. While a polite smile edged at the corners of his mouth, the proclamation, in the end… was a double-edged sword. To be chosen or to be requested; they walked the very same line in what they desired of him. Dom’s head gave a solemn nod as if to express understanding over the matter, no matter the taste it would leave in his mouth. Where immortality lacked true consequence, their kind was far more creative than they were discouraged, by the simple fact. There were plenty of ways to kill a man without stopping a pulse, should he be foolish enough to speak.

      Dom was no fool. Whether it be with his words or the gravity to the offer that had been set upon the table. Acceptance was not without its own rewards. Surveillance exchanged for guidance. Dread traded for a certain security. He had but one chance to answer genuinely.

      For now, the envelope was opened with care before the knife was returned to his pocket. Prying the paper free from its exterior, Dominic examined it briefly before he retrieved the key afterward. “London…”  The younger mouthed the word inaudibly. The city where his life had begun, just as many others had gone through the same. Without speaking the rest aloud, his eyes studied the phrase finally, while his fingertips turned the key in his left hand.

      What felt like minutes passing, in fact, were only mere seconds. His eyes would not leave the card for the time being until his hand clasped along the edge of the paper a bit more firmly. “I accept,” Dominic stated firmly. In the end, he knew there was little debate to be had.

    • The envelope found a place upon the table once Dominic had sat down, hardly forgotten… it would have its time soon enough. His question was left in the open air as the other gave a pause, searching for an answer that suited. It was perhaps a clear testament to his age; Dom would live with the fact. In the end, he wore it for what it was. The silence lingered for just a touch longer where his hues flickered between the table surface and the other man’s face. When it came time for Dorian to speak, however, he wavered none from the Elder.

      Dominic’s lips pursed briefly. One corner of his mouth tugged upward for a fraction of a second. It may have come across quaint, yet deep down it was riddled with agitation. Why? It was internal. With little expression to direct otherwise, this was the first he had heard of such surveillance. His mind went about searching the Harlem address and all of its neighboring corners. The angle he had not thought of, the prolonged stare into the window that perhaps he had missed... yet he knew. Those of their kind that did not want to be seen, simply would not be. He pulled himself out of thought in time for what would come afterward.

      The waitress’ arrival at the table came with a slight relief, and time to process what he had just been told. As she directed her attention to the other end of the booth, inevitably Dominic’s eyes dropped to the card present upon the table, bewildered. He gazed at it in silence until Dorian had finished his order, averting his stare back toward their waitress who was already waiting expectantly. “Cranberry vodka. Please.” He stated; a brief smile and a subtle nod were added to the end of their order and soon enough, the waitress took her leave to fulfill it. For a moment he watched her walk out of range before resuming.

      “…You say you have watched for quite some time?” Dominic spoke smoothly, intrigue lacing his words as he pried for the answer. He reached for the envelope once more, holding it in his fingertips. Before he would address it the footsteps of their waitress returning were heard soon enough as she brought back their simple order, and each glass was set before them respectively. Dom gave his own rose-colored drink a stir with the thin cocktail straw included, as she set down the tart on a plate in front of Dorian. She turned and left once again after.

      “You are certain..-” He uttered in a hushed tone just as soon as their table was left in silence. His eyes went from Dorian and then to the envelope he still had his suspicions toward, studying it now apprehensively. Nonetheless, Dominic searched through his pocket and pulled out a small folding knife. The blade was slid across the top of the envelope with utmost care in order to break the seal and reveal its contents.

    • His eyes flicked back to the man just as soon as a touch was felt, pausing. Dominic read the other’s expression with a guarded one of his own. It was something subtle, yet an instinctive reaction. He would try and rid himself of it, if it were just for the time being. His eyes went between both for a moment briefly, his thumb stroking the surface of the card once or twice thoughtfully. No matter how heavily it weighed in his hand, the other held his attention from then on.

      When his offer had been taken up, Dominic nodded his head. “But of course,” The smile across his lips stretched just a bit further as he forced the tension from his stance, shoulders turning toward the decorative carpet path that would lead toward the bar area. The card remained clutched in his hand as he led the way with a bit more ease. The casino was an element of his, the layout known by heart. A wayward glance went to the man when he saw something flash across his expression. Knowing not what to make of it, he headed toward the bar.

      A seat was taken without any fuss on the waitress’ part. On a morning where the establishment was nowhere near full capacity, he chose a more secluded booth near the far edge of the bar area, waiting for Dorian himself to take a seat before he would do so on the other side. They had a moment before the waitress on staff would arrive at the table- so he looked to the other in the meanwhile. “I have the slightest suspicion… you know more of me than I, of you.” Dominic uttered rather admittedly in a quieted tone. Before he could continue, the approaching footsteps of their waitress drew near as she offered up a specialty drink menu. Dominic himself paid no mind, gesturing for the other to order what he wanted first if he so wished.

    • Eyes were windows to one’s soul, or so the old phrase went. And what of creatures that had none? Dominic certainly hoped it wouldn’t be the case, but he knew better. His eyes flickered to the others as stares were felt, unmoving from his seat when he felt no need for it. He focused his attention on what truly mattered, and that was the man who had made eye contact. The man that had led their formation, who now had his hand outstretched to the younger’s surprise.

      His eyes followed the card as it was raised to be offered, and he couldn’t have stopped his expression from falling to surprise, even if it were for a brief moment. His fingers took it gingerly, holding it with the same care that a human might hold a grenade with a loose pin. His stare landed upon it pensively. Curiosity was one of the last things in this world that could burn him- and it was.

      “A gift,” Dominic uttered aloud quietly as his eyes left the envelope, sneaking suspicion on his features. Had the object ever been received so quietly? He wouldn’t be one to know. The man stood from his seat at the slot machine, the card kept in hand for the time being. “You have come to my city, perhaps you may allow me the honor,” Dominic responded in regard to drinks. Wary or not, kindness was a commodity taken none too lightly. “Shall we find a place to speak? His gaze was cast toward the edge of the bar visible from where he had once been seated. At that time in the morning, many of its seats and reserved booths lingered empty. He then looked back to Dorian, studying the man’s facial expression for any hints it could offer.

    • Another drink was ordered in due time as Dominic’s mind was allowed to be carried off by the anticipation of just what dealings would proceed. The glass that would return to him was his fourth; as long as money was deposited and credits continued to roll in the slot machine, the waitress held no concerns nor reservations over doing her job. The glass was taken, the old exchanged. He cleared his throat precariously for the third time that hour before taking a drink, letting the glass settle in its place afterward.

      He cared not for going into such things, so blindly. He cared not for exchanging undoubtedly false names and bowing his head to Elders that he had worked so diligently to keep away from. His past in England, no matter how distasteful, had done a job in casting a shadow over just whom it may be.  Meanwhile, the city had housed him for long enough in a cradle of comfort- mishaps were at a minimum despite tragedy still running through his records as closely as six months prior. To the questioning of what a stranger required of him and just why his presence was made on the casino floor… wariness. Anticipation. He lived in a certain realm of romanticism for such things. The unknown came as so few and far between for their kind. He held onto it with every opportunity it would arise, twisting a ring upon one of his fingers as he thought.

      His mind told him before any, it seemed. It housed a power that was mundane, yet served its purpose…  simply put, he felt eyes upon him. His senses followed suit. His finger tapped repetitively on the slot machine’s surface as he focused anywhere but. Footsteps. They were hard to follow in such a space. He was young, and still honing in on such things. Distraction was fended off and he caught the pace of those seemingly drawing closer. The stride was calm. Systematic. Not a stumble took, in his study of it. Dominic took a slow exhale in, trading the triggering of the scents in his system for the information they housed. The man’s lips pursed.

      He relaxed. A button was pressed on the machine and the voucher was printed, ignored for the time being. He picked up his glass for yet another drink before his hand buried itself into his pocket. A silver chain was brought out, and one after the other, two of his three rings were slid off his fingers, placed onto the chain. With the first, his complexion once more returned to pale. Lackluster. Liveliness drained from his being just as it had so many years prior. To the removal of the second, mistakenly amber hues dampened to what was far closer to merlot. Crimson-esque irises were framed by a certain redness about the whites of his eyes. A hunger. A strain from taking up such a populated place for his evening.

      It seemed inevitable. There was no mistaking in the stranger approaching and whether or not he would simply sit down at a slot, or be tapping him on the shoulder. Dominic gave no chance as, with some reluctance, his torso turned and he cast a glance over where his right shoulder had been. His eyes traced the man from top to bottom, doing his examination before he met the other’s gaze with a quaint smile to just barely tug at the corner of his mouth.

      “Good morning.” Dominic greeted in a quiet tone, neutral. His head dipped once to follow suit. The essence of an English accent laced itself amongst his words.

    • At first, he stays where he is.  Blue eyes trailing after Dorian as the Vampyre slips between the trees... then, sighing, the Druid would pad after him quietly, keeping his distance.  At least until the man finally hears his question and stops walking away from him, then Finn crosses his arms over his chest and leans his shoulder against the rough barked belly of a tall oak tree.

      His eyebrows quirk up his brow with amusement when Dorian does finally speak, glancing over his shoulder. "Well, sure.  Ye could walk until ye reached the sea n' then some." He shifts his arm against the tree to shrug, feeling the bark biting into his flesh, though he minds little. "I guess it kinda' depends on where ye wanted to go.  Ye don't really wanna' stay in Scotland, do ye? I'm sure those Hags came with back-up.  Yer too high risk for 'em to just let ye' up n' walk off." His head tips in a canine way. "no doubt they are tracking ye even now-- I'd be.  Our best option is to go somewhere they can't follow.. at least not without help, they can't." and he can't imagine any witch being excited about striking a deal with one of the fae-- or the Danann themselves, who he suspects would side with their Druid regardless of his actions, or companions.. 

      "Mind, what I'm suggesting is just as likely to get ye killed as waitin' for them witches to come get ye, but at least it'll be interestin'."

    • Empire City Casino  |   2:30 AM  |  New York City

       

      The city never slept, or so they said. The casino seemed to be a most adequate example as any, come the falling of the sun. It was a place where neon lights and attention-catching sounds lured in one patron after another with ease. High, dimly lit ceilings seemed to span on for miles up above. Equally as loud and colorful carpeting covered the space beneath his feet. It was an arcade of machines to promise fortune, and plenty of bodies to fill it. To some, the evening may prove successful. For many, many others… perhaps not.

      A ‘business’ meeting had brought the vampire in… as if he was no different than the crowd, the sounds and nostalgic atmosphere pulled him in for the remainder of the night and now into the morning. He could allow himself to be a fool, every once in a while.

      Dominic cleared his throat reluctantly as he reminded himself to take a breath, even if it was for show. In such a place full of distracted bodies, his attempts were minimal for the night. A sip of a glass beside him was to be taken next; the cranberry vodka was one of many. A drink to blend in, something to fend off time with. When he had been offered one too many in a certain position, he would leave to find another place to remain seated. As for now? He had chosen a seat at the end of a long line of machines on one end of the gambling floor, the glass resting on the ledge closest.

      Absently a button was pressed and the slot machine’s wheel would start to spin. Amber hues cast a look around the casino floor in the meanwhile. Dressed formally for the occasion it seemed, the man wore a classic fit black suit tailored to its wearer. A tie would linger absent from the ensemble with a button of his white collared shirt undone, as if in resentment to the idea. Commonly unruly blond locks were even semi-tamed back with the use of product. His arm was propped on the chair’s back in a manner that left his hand dangling loosely. The rings on his right were twisted in a fidgeting manner from time to time.

      The wheel came to a stop and his gaze went back to it. When few of the symbols had settled to match themselves properly, he made another selection and pressed to spin again. His mind meanwhile settled in just as many places. The abundance of white noise. His dealings earlier in the night. And as it was true to instinctive habit… the heartbeats closer to his proximity.

      The visit came not without some precautions taken, for the matter. He knew the casino had perhaps another few hours of tolerability before he would have to take his leave and move to the streets… as if he were coming up for air. For now, he pressed the buttons and gave the machine another spin. His drink was brought up to his lips after.

    • ((Alright! Plots! What is known canonically: Dorian has just awoken from a 50 year long involuntary 'slumber', and is gathering his forces again in Paris, France.

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