D o l a i


Of all things, Dolai doesn't know much about the truth of her origin. She can tell you how one was never far from death some sixty millenia ago, or the sweltering heat of the north African sun, or how it feels to spear an elephant for the first time. Yet, how exactly she came to be eludes her, even tens of thousands of years later. There was her mother of course, a woman of the Anu tribe, but as for her father, he had only spoken to her once.

The things he said would change not only her life, but the course of humanity. 

Dolai was the sunrise at the dawn of mankind, for it was she who foresaw the lands beyond their dying home. It was her words that sparked a new revolution, as she spoke of the fate of their homeland, the world beyond the desert and the greatest story to unfold, whelved deep within the Earth’s ruthless wilderness and endless seas. Some would deem her messenger of the divine, to others, a false prophet. The choice resided within each individual; burn with the land beneath your feet, or brave the unknown armed with little more than a spear and faith in whom you call God. 


When fate calls,

How will you answer?





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  • Dolai.


    Hey, Dolai? 



  • *Hurls a Grand Piano at a bitch.*

  • Anthony assumes the lack of a response from Dolai is an answer within itself.  But even if it wasn't the answer he was expecting, or would have wanted, he still chose to follow her.  Easily navigating the treacherous terrain with a grace and speed that might have made it seem like he knew these woods.

    He didn't.  But that didn't mean they weren't familiar to him, more familiar than any paved street or back alley or warehoue.  He stepped around naturally formed potholes and leapt gracefully over roots snaking out onto their 'path' as if to prove it. 

    Humans weren't quite so deft.  Nor so fast, and he severely doubted they would be brave enough to chase them into the woods after discovering the remains of the wretch, whose dead and all too human looking corpse would have driven them to call the authorities.  

    He slows to a stop as the sound of sirens spill into the night air, shaking his head.   Sometimes, I hate being right But this could be a good thing.. he thought.  We have time..

    His thoughts were cut short when he noticed Dolai launching herself up into a tree branch, like some kind of squirrel-human hybrid.  He merely watched.  Grimacing, if only because she did the total opposite of what he was thinking, and then smirking amusedly, because she did the total opposite of what he was thinking.

    "Hey? Not that posting up isn't a grand idea and all, but we should probably get out of here.  The police'll probably come this way.  With dogs, if they're smart." Anthony glanced over his shoulder, bright blue eyes searching the shadows between the trees for any sign that they were being pursued.  Again, it was a fools deathwish to pursue possible killers into the woods, so he figured they wouldn't.. but one could never be too careful.  Perhaps they were armed.  That would certainly make them more bold. 

    "I have a safehouse in the city that's much more secure than this tree, though.."

  • Anthony's head snapped to the left, back towards the Wretch and away from the marvelous specimen before him when the creature bucked between his legs, it's jaw hanging by threads of flesh and muscle, to offer such a pathetic whine that the Gangrel felt a pang of pity in his undead heart, although brief as it was, for his kin. 

    Their eyes were full of blood, which spilled over the edges of their eyelids and cut red furrows down the sides of their ruined cheeks.  It was pouring from their ears, their nose, even through the pores of their skin to soak whatever was left of their shredded clothes in red.

    As the Wretch's chest began to rise and fall rapidly, it's eyes bugging out of it's skull, digitrade legs writhing in a desperate attempt to flee from their own demise, Anthony's mind swirled with questions.  However, he was forced to put them on hold when the woman next to him started to transform.  

    He cringed uneasily when Dolai's head split down the middle, but forced himself not to look away.  Not until the bones of the great Sabre Cat remained, wrapped about her form like the protective wings of a bird.

    He reached towards the bones--

    --And they turned to dust.  Frowning, he dropped his hand back to his side and glanced patiently at the Ancient's naked form.  There were plenty of young men who'd probably be cowed by a beauty such as hers, but Anthony merely admired her tattoos, the cut of her muscles, and the sound of her heartbeat.  

    Dark blue eyes calmly regarded the blood seeping from the woman's wounds, spilling onto the pavement.  Yet he remained composed, his expression thoughtful.  Still, there was an undeniable need within his eyes, a Hunger that set him apart from Humanity by leagues.  It seemed to burn through whatever skin he was in, whether it was his Coyote form or this, the one he was born in. "How could you tell?" 

    It's asked with a small, almost playful smile.

    Noticing the Ancient's eyes skim away from him, he started to turn his head in order to see exactly what had snatched her attention, when the sound of her voice made him freeze.

    Fuck.  Two nights in Kansas City and I'm already violating the Masquerade.

    Anthony blinked once as the woman spun around and darted away, sparing a single glance to the wretch beneath him.  It looked much smaller than it had just a few seconds prior, it's skin wrinkled and leathery, it's once black eyes were grey, staring vacantly upwards towards the night sky.

    Realizing he would have to do something about that body later, which would no doubt require a trip to the morgue, he shook his head and loped after the woman, moving so quickly towards the hills that his Adidas were a blur across the pavement.

    "Do you know where you're going!?" He called out to the woman, once he was close enough that the wind wouldn't snatch away his words.

  • The smell of the Wanderer's ancient blood hit the descendants of Caine with such ferocity that even Anthony, just over ten years the wretch's elder, drew up short, sliding to a stop on the rough pavement.  

    The half-animal monstrosity atop the woman shrieked like it was in agony.  A high pitched, inhuman keening that tore the night like a siren.  Even wearing the skin of a Coyote, the Gangrel flinched.  There's no way someone didn't hear that.  

    The moment it caught a whiff of the Ancient's blood, the moment it imagined how it would taste upon it's teeth and rolling down it's throat, it's eyes rolled back in it's head and it lost it's fucking mind. 

    As Dolai was hurling the wretch away from her, it sunk it's claws deeply into her arms of her jacket and raked them deep.  

    It twisted, landed in a crouch so flat to the ground it's stomach was almost flush with the ground.  Black, furious eyes regarded the Ancient, in her primal form of tooth and claw, but it was not afraid.  It did not know fear, only an incredible burning Hunger that seemed to flow outward, infecting Anthony like a plague.

    No.  He thought, suddenly. 

    No, I'm here for you. 

    The wretch curled in upon itself.

    Anthony tensed.

    The creature hurled itself at Dolai-- only to collide with the ground near her.  Right where her blood had dripped onto the concrete.  Clawed hands scrabbled across the pavement to dab at the blood before it could disappear forever.  And just as quickly it was licking it's fingers clean, desperately trying to get a taste of the woman's sweet, sweet blood.

    The coyote spared the Ancient a glance, but quickly returned it's attention to the wretch writhing upon the pavement.  With his prey so close, he could hardly contain himself.  He figured he could deal with the identity of this stranger later.  

    So he launched himself at the wretch and willed his form to change, and change it did-- like water, the coyote flowed into the shape of a man, though his fingers remained curled into claws and his eyes held a hellish red glow.  He moved with the grace of a leopard, the silence of a hunting fox, crossing the pavement in seconds to land atop the wretch.  He plunged his claws into it's back, causing the creature to buck in surprise, screaming when the older Gangrel raked his claws down it's back, down it's spine.

    Another swipe of his claws spun the wretch onto their back, so Anthony could better see the pain in their eyes as he swept his claws across the poor bastards face, destroying the lower half of it's jaw.  Teeth and blood were displaced onto the pavement.  So much for healing that tongue. 

    One of the wretches hands came up in a feeble attempt to fend the Gangrel off, but he kicked it away and stomped down upon the creatures wrist, and then quickly pinned the other limb beneath his heel before it could get more than a few inches off the ground.

    Anthony raised his hand, bloody claws glinting in the moonlight-- and paused.

    The creature writhed on the ground, moaning through what remained of it's mouth.  Gurgling, dark blood bubbled from it's ruined jaw, down it's heaving throat.  It's black eyes were rolling around it's skull, seeming unable to focus on anything at all.  And Anthony knew.

    Final Death was upon the wretch... but.. why?

    Nostrils flaring, the tantalizing smell of the Ancient's blood struck him like a semi, and his sharp eyes flew to the crimson splotch upon the pavement, and from there, to the Ancient herself.  The Gangrel's red eyes regarded her primal form, his expression smoothing into something akin to wonder.  He felt his brows rising softly over his deep blue eyes.

    Even after his transformation, Anthony remained fully clothed.  Wearing a grey hoodie, black nylon pants, white high top sneakers with a zipper running up the heel, and a gold Nixon Regulus on his left wrist.  The Gangrel was handsome, with sharp and angled features somewhat remniscent of a wolf.

    "Who are you?" He asked softly, lowering his bloody claws.

  • The wretched spawns of his sire were more akin to cockroaches than true vampires-- hiding in the walls, in the sewers, in damp and long dissused warehouses.  They dotted the outside of Kansas City like a fairy ring of festering tumors, crumbling and quickly deterioating.  Old slaughterhouses and warehouses with built in freezer units that no longer worked.   

    As he passed an old slaughterhouse that still wreaked of cow's blood and the fear and confusion the animals had felt in their final moments, he felt his lips drawing away from his teeth to sneer.  It was an ugly practice.  Wasteful, and cruel.  Many considered it a necessesity, but Anthony couldn't help thinking if the Fast Food chains went under, it wouldn't be such a bad thing.  Then, the Kine might be forced to eat healthier food. 

    Healthy food = healthy blood. 

    Healthy blood = happy Kindred. 

    Shaking his head, he dislodged the thoughts from his head and turned his eyes towards a crumbling structure on his right.  The scent he'd been following was strongest here. 

    The building reminded him of a hunched over old man, so much so that he expected to hear pained muttering coming from it as he wandered closer to the entrace.  But it was silent, except for the echo of dripping water from within.  He paused, noticing the door had been pulled from it's frame, hinges and all. 

    He narrowed his eyes, staring into the thick darkness that seemed to stretch towards him from within the doorway.  Palms starting to itch, he felt a a single thunderous heartbeat within his chest driving his vitae through his veins down into his fingers.  Inch long dark red claws burst from the tips of his fingers.

    Then he slipped inside, as quiet as a mouse, as quiet as a snake slithering through the grass.  He kept to a wall, where the shadows were thickest, curling and uncurling his claws with a primal need to sink them into something and tear it apart.

    He was about to get his chance.

    As he reached a corner, he paused and lowered himself into a crouch, then he leaned forward to peer around it.  There's only three of them.. he realized, with a bitter pang of disappointment -- for he knew there were more out there, wreaking havoc across Kansas City.  And he'd been hoping to take them all out with one foul swipe of his claws.

    The three figures before him were hunkered over a moaning, thrashing shape on the ground.  A hardhat was lying a few meters away from the scene, bloodied at the edge.  They were-- all of them-- feeding upon a mortal.  A man.  One of the wretches upon his shoulder, one upon his calf, and the other upon his wrist.  They were not gentle, however.  Biting and chewing upon the man's flesh to ruin whatever ecstasy the Kiss normally summoned in mortals.  Anthony could see much of the mortals blood was pooling on the ground beneath them.

    What a damn waste.  He thought, his eyes darting towards the blood.  His own Hunger was enough to make him gnaw on his lower lip, part of him tempted to join his wretched kin as they fed upon the poor mortal.  But he resisted, and resisted again, then he set his jaw and refocused on the task at hand.  

    Murder.  Retribution?  Both, perhaps.

    He detached from the shadows, unseen, and slipped across the warehouse towards the lesser creatures.  Only one of them looked up, and seeing Anthony standing over them, their eyes went wide with a mix of fear and fury.  Blood rolled down it's chin as it opened it's mouth to screech-- but before the sound could leave it's throat, Anthony raked his claws across it's face, destroying it's eyes within a second.  The creature wailed as it fell back to the ground, thrashing wildly in pain.

    The other creatures finally looked up, glancing first at their fallen comrade, then at Anthony.  They screeched in unison, and rushed towards him like speeding cars, totally abandoning their meal.

    But he was ten years their elder.  Stronger, and far more cunning.  Plus, he was a true Kindred.  These whelps could barely call themselves Gangrel.  Taking a quick measure of the room, he spotted an object lying but a few feet away and darted towards it, seizing it in his right hand.  He twisted, and launched it through the air.

    The hunk of rebar soared like a spear and struck one of the attacking vampires in the side of the head.  It toppled over with a spray of blood and didn't get up again. 

    Before he could turn back to the other vampire, kin by Blood, he felt it crashing into his side.  He hit the ground hard, grunting as the back of his head struck the ground.  But even with his vision swimming he was thrusting his palm up towards the other vampire, just as it was lunging for his neck.  His blow caught the underside of it's jaw, causing it's head to snap backwards sharply.  Blood sprayed all over Anthony's face, and he realized with a grin that he'd caused the creature to bite off it's own tongue.  His satisfaction blossomed when the creature howled in pain, but immediately sputtered to worry as it pushed away from him and rushed towards the nearby window.

    Anthony rolled over, launched himself to his feet, but he was too late.  With the sound of shattering glass tinkling all over the ground, he whipped around to see the creatures back.  It was losing human form-- shrinking and elongating until nothing of the man remained.  It had become a dog-- a Rottweiler, and a truly fierce specimen.  Much larger, and so much faster, especially with freshly stolen vitae pumping through it's veins.  

    "Dammit!" He roared, throwing a frantic glance over his shoulder.  The wretch whose face Anthony had destroyed was curled into a ball on it's side, bleeding profusely and trying to stem the flow with their hands.  The other seemed a corpse, lying on it's back with the rebar stuck out of the side of it's head.   He didn't need to move any closer to see that the mortal was dead and growing cold.  So he cursed again, swung back around, and threw himself after his fleeing sibling.

    His metamorphosis was as simple as shedding clothes; as he ran, the wind in his hair, the smell of blood on the air, he felt his human form falling away, and he dropped down to all fours, pushing his body to move faster.  Faster, faster, faster.  Every step, Vitae bounded around his being and emboldened his muscles, allowing him to transcend the mortal limits bound to most canines.  But he didn't push himself so hard that, were someone to see him, it was obvious he was something beyond what he seemed.  

    And right now, he was a coyote much bigger than he had any right to be, perhaps even as big as a wolf.  Covered in thick red and grey fur with a black tipped tail.

    In moments, he was closing in on the Rottweiler, and the brute knew it.  It turned sharply, leapt from the road to plant itself atop a parked Taxi, and then it bound into a park, baying viciously.  Anthony quickly followed, slipping gracefully between the same Taxi and a Sedan parked just ahead of it.

    A few more feet and he was going to be close enough to open his jaws and snap them shut on the beasts cropped tail.  His instinct, though, screamed for him to pounce.  But he resisted, trembling with the effort, for he feared missing the creature and losing his momentum, allowing the beast to slip into the night and kill again.  

    No. He thought, lips peeling away from his sharp teeth angrily.  You're mine.

    Little did he know, so caught up in the Hunt, that he was chasing the Rottweiler directly towards the Storyteller.  Right through the park, across the empty parking lot.

    And the second it saw her, there was but a single thought within it's bestial mind.  Food.  The Rottweilers eyes wide and black with hunger, fear, and fury, the beast threw itself at the woman, and again it transformed.

    To a state halfway between animal and man-- well, corpse.  It's body once more elongated and took on a more human shape, but it's feet and legs remained digitrade, and were much thicker than they had been in it's human form with rippling, ropey muscle.  It's hands were in a halfway state between paws and hands, barely useable thickly padded fingers and curving, sharp claws.  It's arms were, much like it's legs, jammed full of muscles that it didn't have when it had been in it's previous form.  It's face, however, was human.  Pale and stricken with Hunger, lips drawn back, eyes still wild and black.  Short dark fur covered it's body from the tip of it's all too human nose down to it's all too canine paws.

    There was no plan, here.  No thought of the future, or this woman's life.  A flurry of tooth and claw seeking any warm flesh to sink into, to drain of it's delectable juices, no matter how ancient they may be.

    Anthony snarled behind the beast. No! 

  • ".....Yeah, now I see why most men tend to be afraid of women." 


    Not how he expected his morning to turn out for him but hey, when you're a druglord and all this is the kind of stuff that you have to deal with sadly and sure enough, Kujo was pretty use to it by now but it was starting to happen more often then usual almost like someone is toying with him in a way really. He looked over the paper and everything...something wasn't clicking with him like it should, why was something else added to his order? Or the real question is who was handling his order to begin with. Most times he does the drop himself to confirm everything is correct before he sends off the paperwork but he didn't do it this time around since he had something else to take care of at the time.


    A soft sigh passed his lips, rubbing the back of his neck, he needed to make a few phone calls and stop by a few places to collect his payments from a few people but in the meantime, he needed to get to the bottom of this mess so everything else would have to wait until this gets taken care of. He led Dolai to what it seems to be just one of his offices cause you know, he has to keep a low profile from the law and whatnot. It was sorta of a make shift office really but it was big enough with a desk, two chairs in front of his desk and some filing cabinets where he kept all the paperwork organized. He pulled out his chair and sat down, due from the lack of sleep he got last night, there were slight bags under his eyes as well as the look of tiredness on his face but it didn't faze or bothered him really.


    "Don't you find it odd that someone would add something to an order....like....you're trying to hide something but you're not good at hiding." 


    It wasn't a trick question or anything like that, it just struck him as odd that someone would make a careless mistake like that to begin with, like they want to get caught doing something that they had no business doing from the jump. But at the same time, Kujo knew that whoever was doing it was also making to where that is how it seems to most people but Kujo always read between the lines and he knew that something was up, question is how does he go about it without causing a problem or letting the information hit the news. Just when it couldn't get any worse, there was a knock on the door before it opened, one of his men came into his officer and walked over to him. He whispered something in Kujo's ear and from his reaction....it wasn't something good that only made him groan more.


    "Alright thank you, let everyone else know and you know the drill..." 


    That was all that was spoken before the man nodded his head and left out his office again, closing the door right behind him leaving him and Dolai alone again in the office once more..

  • Their meeting that evening came to a close and Dominic had resumed his night with a basement that was one item lighter and a decent amount of income that warranted his absence to come. What in ruddy hell was in Sweden for the man other than some loose prospects? Even so, with so few leads in the shop, he was no more useful there. It seemed to put a smile on the woman’s face, all the same, an amused one on Dominic’s as the acceptance of it brought such a thing. For old times sake, he thought. Time could bring strange occurrences if one was patient enough.


    Come sunrise, he was in Newark by seven o’clock. His arrangements had been made with his co-worker whether she had her questions or not, his apartment checked, and a certain white feline left to dwell in the record shop for the time being. The vampire hated airports. He had all the reasoning in the world to believe so, whether it was the high capacity of people fumbling for their correct gate or the godforsaken machines that hummed and whirred as an unpleasant static to his heightened senses. Without a fuss, his ID and passport for this ‘life’ were scanned as per usual and he went on to security.

    A backpack was dropped onto a conveyor belt along with his other sparse belongings. The man was dressed clad in black that summer morning, but in an airport, there weren’t any rules on attire and no one questioned. Airports held no time at all when one patron would be ordering an espresso and the next having their first cocktail at the counter opposite to it. Dark jeans and long sleeves were worn, a charcoal gray hoodie over top of that. A black baseball cap was a go-to with traveling for some odd reason or another; the less attention the better. He was quick to opt-out as the full body scan approached, taking the traditional route for his own reasons. One, a pat-down revealed far less about his nature than the machine did. Dom could only imagine what it would make out of him. Secondly, it regularly spared him from prying those platinum rings from his fingers and having to explain a ‘medical condition’ he’d have to come up with rather quickly. Just as conventions changed over time, he had done quite well to flow with them.

    Now, where was she..? 

    Shoes back on and belongings reunited, Dominic strode toward their gate with his lips pursed tight and his senses on lockdown. He’d hunted no less than four hours ago, that didn’t make the notion of being canned in with a few hundred or more beating hearts any easier to relax over. Some might call it paranoia, he simply called it being careful. His breaths were shallow at best if he chose to take them, doing a sweep of the gate’s seating in order to find her instead.

    “Good morning,” Dominic chimed as soon as he was close enough to greet Dolai. It wasn’t the peppy customer service tone she had received when she first walked into the shop. No, there was an underlying dread as the woman’s muffled voice spoke over the intercom, giving instructions to early boarding passes and those in need of medical assistance… If he could barely hear over the static of the speakers, how could any distracted human? It was a wonder.

    Soon enough, a seat was taken beside her and his bag dropped to sit between his knees, minimally packed with space to be had inside. He took a sweeping glance around the vicinity and then to her. "I take it that you had no trouble?"

  • On his way home, Nemo couldn't help but feel as though he was being watched after the stunt he pulled. However, there wasn't anything around him when he turned his head, and Tundra wasn't alarmed either. It was a valid indication that he was being delusional. Nothing was out of the ordinary the rest of that evening as Nemo tended to his houseplants that overran his small apartment. He couldn't shake the feeling that the woman was somewhat otherworldly, no one he first met would consider the fact that he could see people in danger in his dreams, except her.

    That evening, he dreamt of walking through the dense forest, something uncommon in his daily life. Nemo had never walked through the forest on the outskirt of the city. The closest thing was the park, the boy had only been in open, rural fields and a dense urban jungle. He drifted through the fog, following the peculiar scent of burnt lavender, mugwort, and tobacco, voices of foreign tongue murmuring in his ear. Then, he saw her, the woman he encountered yesterday, the voices growing louder. Nemo froze, when she disappeared into the fog, something in the back of his mind screamed to follow. So he did, picking up the pace, the voices growing even louder and manifesting into spirits. The exhilerating energy of the earth carried Nemo forward,  he wasn't afraid to stop, until suddenly the fog lifted. She was visible once again with trees surrounding him, taller than he had ever seen.

    This wasn't an ordinary dream Nemo had, and he brought himself to approach her. In the blink of an eye, he found himself back in the nightmare he had seen many times before, now with an added spectator. They found themselves in a field of tall grass, bellowing in waves of warm air and beneath a darkened sky above of an impending thunderstorm. "Run!" Nemo yelled at her from the distance with all the air he had in his lungs, the wind whirling in his ears as it picked up angrily. He was already bolting in the opposite direction the lightning seemed to be appearing from. He knew how this dream would end, the speed of the wind indicating that a tornado would soon lift them up. However, before the tornado formed, his feet splashed in water quickly rising from the ground. Before they knew it, they were knee deep in a body of water, the tall grass swallowed up as they were now swept in a tide. The tornado that had now formed became a water spout as it made contact with the surface of the water. Waves grew larger and larger, until they were tsunamis, the earth far below their feet was shifting. As Nemo desperately tried to keep his head above the high water, a volcano in the distance erupted in great magnitude, breaching  through the clouds and into the heavens. Its as if no matter where Nemo looked, another catastrophe was occurring. He was beginning to lose consciousness, but peered above him to see lightning flash the silhouettes of humanoid figures.


    The boy awoke abruptly, gasping for air and took breaths to settle himself back down. To his surprise, Tundra was awake and whimpering by the front door, until Nemo heard the light scratches at the bottom of his door. He called the dog back to her own bed, and she obeyed, yet watched precariously as Nemo opened it. He peered down to see the exotic-looking feline, just as unordinary as the beginning of the dream he just had. When it beckoned him to follow did Nemo slip on a hoodie and his sneakers and exited his apartment.

  • Nemo was slightly unnerved by the woman, but he was like that with strangers in general. Tundra seemed to like her, and she didn't seem to mind most people after a small greeting. "Oh...thanks I guess, I just saw the firetruck coming and-" The strange woman spoke up again. Nemo paused, staring incredulously at her, how did she know? He just came out to save someone, he didn't expect to be confronted. When someone sees him save someone, they usually praise him to the heavens and back, saying how he's blessed, but Nemo always escaped the situation.

    Now someone actually confronted him about his ability, and was correct. Nemo chuckled. "I don't know what you're talking about, lady."  He said dismissively, eyeing at passerbys to validate how crazy she was sounding. Tundra seemed slightly reluctant to leave, but eventually Nemo got her to follow as he strolled back to his apartment.

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