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#Post#: 478--------------------------------------------------
Re: The Detective is In / Out of his Mind
DIR By: Cherie
Date: April 14, 2026, 7:28 pm
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[center]
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“No.” -she said with finality to him, his human act of clearing
his throat was good. She quiet enjoyed that little performance.
It made her look at him in awe for a moment. Perhaps she could
understand him in some way. She would have to dig deep to do
that though. Grace was a snob when it came to certain things,
that it was easy and hard to see why her and Butch did at one
point make a good couple. But nobody saw all the ins and outs of
their relationship. Only what Butch and Grace allowed them to
see.-
“You are not coming along, because he will not speak with you
there. If you are worried about Butch’s influence do you believe
that it’s wise for you to be there? You could by an extension
be apart of that influence. If you do insist on tagging along
it will not be tonight as I am in the middle of putting together
a new play. You can also only tag along when I get the name of
the thief. That is the deal. There will be no more negotiation.
That is my final offer and deal if you wish to get to Bandit.
The more information you bring me about the thief, the more I’ll
be press Bandit for information. My interaction with Bandit will
depend on what you bring me.”
-She then started to back away from him but stopped and looked
at him. She really took a look at him. She pitied him. Perhaps
his life would have been better if he had embraced into a
different clan. But he had the misfortune of being a Malk. It
was a shame really.- “If you think about appealing to my side of
‘vampires are dying’ you would be speaking to a deaf audience.”
-and just like that a light bulb went off on her head.- “A deaf
audience. A deaf audience.” -she said as she tapped her finger
against her chin.- “Yes…yes!” -she exclaimed because she
apparently just a genius thought for a new show.-
[/center]
#Post#: 485--------------------------------------------------
Re: The Detective is In / Out of his Mind
DIR By: Slick
Date: April 17, 2026, 7:59 pm
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[center]Hannigan let her talk. It was from past experience to
not interrupt her. As an [I]Ancilla[/I], a kindred too old to be
a neonate but too young to be an elder, Grace was powerful. She
came from a powerful, almost infamous sire, and was influential
amongst the Court as a Keeper of Elysium. Lovely enough to host,
deadly enough to enforce, cunning enough not to have to do it
herself. Grace was to be respected like a lady, as she had
earned the right. But Hannigan was no push over. Had he been
human, he would have fallen all over her. This would have been
her show. Instead, he was playing it cool, letting her dictate
terms, giving vague, slow head nods with each stipulation and
explanation. Following along, but not committing. When she
finished, he turned away from her and took a few steps. Then she
would hear that baritone shift in his voice as he spoke out.
Low, to no one, but loud enough for her to hear.
-She wanted to play hard ball. Tough broad to say no to. A part
of me wanted to take her terms. Find a simple thief, slumming’
with the Rats. Let her do the heavy lifting. I wasn’t much for
heavy lifting’, and I trusted this dame about as far as I could
throw her. Not very much. Grace was her name in spades, but she
wasn’t holding the hand she thought she was.-
When he finished, he turned back around to her, an unlit
cigarette in his mouth. His regular voice returned.
“That’s fine, Grace. I’m not here to negotiate. I’m not here to
appeal to your morality, whatever that may be. I’m here as
Sheriff, and I don’t have to accept your terms. You have to
accept mine. You might not like it, but them the breaks. But
maybe a poem would help. You gals like poetry, right?” did he
mean gals in general, or Toreador gals? He adjusted his coat,
straightening up and putting his shoulders back. When he spoke,
he spoke somberly. It was a performance, and it wasn’t half bad.
“First they came for the Communists. And I did not speak out
because I was not a Communist. Then they came for the
socialists. And I did not speak out because I was not a
Socialist. Then they came for the trade unionists. And I did not
speak out because I was not a yada yada yada….”
She didn’t have to know the piece to get the essence of it. She
had irritated him, and he was standing up to her.
“The Masquerade has been broken. The Sixth Tradition.
Destruction. You don’t have to care that it’s open season on
Kindred, doll. That’s my job. Because you might be next. Or your
boyfriend. Or maybe it was your boyfriend in retaliation for a
necklace stolen at a recent gala. Funny, you’re looking for a
jewel thief, aren’t ya?”
He let that hang in the air. Franco was already under scrutiny
for being a Lasombra, and prior Sabbat. A petty Masquerade
breach, especially one as heinous as the Destruction, wouldn’t
look good for him. But the way Hannigan weaponized it, even he
didn’t seem convinced that was a sound theory. Just one he was
willing to use against her if she pressed him.
“You help me with Bandit, and I promise you the boon of finding
whatever I can about this thief and giving it to you as soon as
possible. But You will help me with Bandit first. And I’m going
with you. No offense, but I’m not taking you at your word about
whatever you two discuss. But if you’re worried about what
influence I’ll have on biker boy, don’t worry. You ain’t the
only one that can put on a show…”
He spun around, and when he faced her again, his hand moved over
his face and revealed a different visage. A man with more hair,
and a beard, distinct from Hannigan’s own unique face. He’d also
lit the cigarette somehow. He tap danced, and ended it with a
heal click. The landing wasn’t clean, but he nailed it.
-Still got it.-[/center]
#Post#: 486--------------------------------------------------
Re: The Detective is In / Out of his Mind
DIR By: Cherie
Date: April 17, 2026, 8:19 pm
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[center]
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-Grace looked annoyed him, he spoke to himself and he spoke to
her but neither words she truly cared for. Hannigan was also
playing a dangerous game, because Grace was not a forgive and
forget kind of woman. The best way to approach her was not how
he had done it. Even though she knew he was right, and she truly
had no choice. That did not mean that this would be the end of
this.
Her eyes rolled at him, her annoyance with him was already
wearing thin. Him speaking about Franco was absolutely crossing
a line and that caused her eyes to narrow. While people were
reminded of her bloodline, they seemed to forget how truly
cunning that blood line was. Lestat was a legend and they were
lucky no other Kindred had decided to truly walk in his
footsteps. There was always that lingering feeling that one
day, someone would. If pushed to far.
Hannigan was pushing his luck. Sheriff or not, there was still
respect to be had and he was showing none of it. He was proving
her why she was correct in looking down on him. He was doing
nothing to want to elevate his station. It was quiet pitiful
really. If she cared enough she would pity him.-
“You will learn the hard way then. You came to me to ask for
help with Bandit, but yet here you are thinking you know him
better then I do. It makes me wonder why if you know how to
handle him, would you not go to himself.” -she stopped and
smiled a little towards him, and it was not a kind smile. It was
the kind of smile that let him know he was on thin ice. Again
sheriff or not. His position could be replaced.-
“I will find out Bandit’s availability. He’s a very busy boy,
and I would hate to have to report that he had to stop in the
middle of important business to attend a meeting of no
consequence. There are those that wouldn’t not like that.” -her
words where not threatening she knew better, but the tone
indicated exactly how she was feeling about him right now.-
“I’ll be in contact with you, Hannigan. Also, do please in keep
in mind, that I always ensure I repay how I’ve been treated in
kind.” -she then turned away from him and walked towards the
stage. She didn’t want to be in his presence any longer then
she had to be.
Her looks to someone standing on the side of the stage that
Hannigan couldn’t see, it was a ghoul.- “Get me Joshua.” -she
snapped towards them.-
[/center]
#Post#: 501--------------------------------------------------
Re: The Detective is In / Out of his Mind
DIR By: Slick
Date: April 19, 2026, 12:14 pm
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[center]Many Kindred mistakenly confused the “madness” of Clan
Malkavian with stupidity. Aloofness meant absentminded, not lost
in concentration. Brashness was a lack of decorum, not a
calculated risk. She could get haughty with him, but this was
not a social call. This was business, and with something as
devious as a breach of the Sixth Tradition meant he would risk
saving face in front of one of the movers and shakers of their
Court. Hannigan seemed rather secure in his role, whether she
believed that to be a delusion was where they’d have to
disagree.
“Oh, I’m not crazy, Grace. I know I need you, but I need this
to operate on my time table, not yours. If you have any
complaints, you could take them up with Carp. Your primogen.
Maybe Prince Jereoux cares to hear about my behavior.” [b] There
was a thought. On the one hand, would the Venture prince really
care that a Brujah was dead? In theory, no, but it was still one
of his subjects. On the other hand, would it be worth risking
his ire over the Sheriff’s behavior?
She threatened him, and he wiped a hand over his face, taking
away the disguise he wore with Obfuscate. The lit cigarette was
also gone. There had been no smoke smell, after all. She could
see for a moment something sinister in those eyes of his. A
blankness that had access to the depths of his own beast. But he
cracked a disarming grin, shrugging casually.
[b] “Don’t forget, Dollface. Us Lunatics always got an ace up
our sleeve.” Mimicking a magic trick, the Ace of Spades appeared
in his hand, before disappearing. “I’d hate for there to be a
Prank at the premiere of your next masterpiece.”
When she looked back from snapping for Joshua, he had vanished
from thin air.
Within a few minutes, Joshua appeared at the stage. Tall, thin,
with shoulder length sandy blonde hair, he was a model even in
jeans and a Nirvana t-shirt. His light green eyes looked at
Grace warily. As a Harpy, Joshua was a social influencer amongst
the Kindred, knowing who held what opinions, where allegiances
lied, and who owed who a debt.
[I] “What’s up, Grace?”[/I][/center]
#Post#: 524--------------------------------------------------
Re: The Detective is In / Out of his Mind
DIR By: Slick
Date: April 22, 2026, 2:37 pm
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[center][Don’t feel like you need to reply to this, this is just
a little blurb about the NPC]
Joshua was tall, almost too thin but with a handsome face, light
green eyes and shoulder length chestnut hair. He looked like a
model even in jeans and a t-shirt. It wasn’t quite retro, as it
had belonged to him when he died in the 90s. He was a painter,
talented enough to have portraits commissioned by the former
Prince Marcel. Rumor had it they were even lovers for a time.
When Marcel died, his brother Jereoux had no use for Joshua. Now
Grace was his Patron, for better or worse. The way she’d said
his name, he guessed he was in trouble.
Hannigan had gone back to his office after meeting with Grace.
He poured himself some blood and sat at his desk, organizing
notes and thoughts, setting out plans for the next few nights.
Jazz played on the record player. A cat meowed somewhere. He
looked up from his chicken scratch, looking to a black cat with
a jeweled collar seated on the mini-bar counter next to a rocks
glass.
“Hold on, baby, I’ll feed ya in a second…”
He continued doodling a picture of Grace in a worn, leather back
notebook. Flattering, if not darker and more brooding. There was
a clash of glass on hardwood floor, and Hannigan sighed, looking
up. The cat was gone, however. Standing up, he looked to the
floor, and there was no glass. Only then did it occur to him
that he didn’t own a cat. Not in a long time.
-Deja Vu. A stutter in reality. Gifts of the blood that were
tryin’ to tell me something. But I’m tired. The sun is coming up
and the next night was busy and full of new troubles. Real
troubles. Maybe my dreams would elaborate.-
Hannigan drained his glass, washed it out, and went to his room
to sleep off the madness.
———————————————————————
-The Juke Joint wasn’t far from my office downtown. Miss Maxine
ran the place, and had been a silent partner ever since her
embrace in the 30’s. It was an Elysium. Neutral ground. Humans
and Kindred coexisted, though they’d bust out the Members Only
sign for Camarilla business. It was dark but clean, having been
updated over the years, though when the Speakeasy look came back
into fashion, they’d leaned hard into it. And it was fitting.
Maxine had been a prime Madame in her day, as well as a
bootlegger.
Once a week, I’d meet Gumshoe there. Now Franco. We’d get a
booth in the back, get a round of drinks, and the ice would melt
while we caught each other up to speed. Like colleagues from
work, grabbing cocktails. All phony. Just a bit in the
Masquerade, the kine watching us sit and pretend to drink, while
we plotted how best to pull the wool over their eyes. Gumshoe at
least played along from time to time. Franco just looked
annoyed. He always looked annoyed. Maybe if he proved to not be
a scumbag, I’d start having these meetings at my office. But
since it doubled as my haven, we’d stick to the Juke.
They told me about Uncle Cherub Charlie. Pretty sure I remember
his father, Chuck Sr, getting found with child brides out in the
swamp, back when I was really on the job. Far as anyone knew, he
was just another Charles Henson in a long line of degenerate
preachers named the same damned thing. A genius of the simple.
Maybe he’d corrupted Marbroux. Maybe someone higher than him. It
wasn’t good. Once found, Corruption, like infernalism or cancer,
was likely dug deeper than just the surface. Were all the
Brujah? Did Butch know? Should he know? This case had more
questions than answers.
I let Franco know I’d tapped his girlfriend for help. He didn’t
like that. He didn’t like when I told him she had another night,
two tops to help me out. And that until she did, he would be
following up any known hang out bikers might frequent in and
around the city. And that it would behoove him to convince Grace
to help. He’d left without a work.
Gumshoe didn’t stop him, but she spoke up for her new partner.
Said he’d stepped up at the Setite Tent. I asked if she was soft
on him. She changed the subject, but I think she is. Like I
said, dames always choose the wrong guy. So I ask her to tap a
Nossie bruiser named Benny Bats for help. Let Roman know we’d
need Handsome Bob on board for a driver. Then I asked her if she
wanted to share anything on a human thief working for the
Nosferatu.
She’s good, but she slipped. Just a widening of the eyes. Then a
shrug and she said. ‘Above my pay grade, Sheriff’. I was gonna
have to start addressing the Primogen council pretty soon.
Things were topsy Turvey. The web of corruption kept growing and
I needed more hands to steer it. I sent her on her way, and went
to check on my ghouls.
Nancy was a bartender for the Juke, pretty blonde thing that was
always chipper and friendly. Bartending paid her way through
college. She interned with me while getting her criminology
degree, and she’d been my secretary for a few summers.
Marv was a gorilla at the end of the bar, nursing the booze
Nancy poured him. Her protector, my palooka. Even I got goons.
Marv was a bouncer, a brawler. Probably had gigantism.
Definitely had a violent psychosis. I’d felt sorry for him,
thought maybe I could be his medicine man. Maxine put him at the
door when I wasn’t putting him to work. Him and Nancy were
coming off the bench.-
“You two. Tell Maxine you’re taking a leave of absence. Duty
calls. Meet me at my office in an hour.”
Nancy practically danced. Marv finished his drink and belched.
————————————————
St. Gregory’s was a small Catholic Church tucked away in the
older architecture of the city. It had been a humble structure
in its conception, and had remained so over the last century or
so, only seeing minimal refurbishment and almost no expansion.
The parishioners were local, many of them elderly, though it did
have a lot of foot traffic at times. This was because it was an
Elysium, and it was also a destination site for many of the
Malkavians traveling to New Orleans. It was through the Priest,
Father Iago, that the Lunatics would seek asylum (so to speak)
in the city, and gain an audience with the Prince. Prince
Jereoux, and Prince Marcel before him, usually left such a thing
to Iago’s discretion. If the malkavian let a troublesome kindred
in, it would be enough rope to hang him with. But it never
happened. Few would cross one as old as Iago, who was twice as
old as the Prince, nearly one thousand years.
Kindred that still grasped at their mortal beliefs would
regularly visit Iago, trying to reconcile their existence with
their faiths. Hannigan was not one of those Kindred, but he did
go to the Elder for guidance. Hannigan entered the church, and
out of reflex dipped his finger in the holy water near the front
and did the sign of the cross.
“Just in case, right?”he asked, looking towards Jesus on the
cross. Then he went to one of the nuns and told her to let the
Father know he was ready for his confession before going to sit
in the booth.
-The Father liked to have his Kindred meetings in the
Confessional Booth. Pretty slick cover. Only the lord to bear
witness to our unholy dalliances. It was nice, quiet. And for a
bloodsucker, Iago was a good Priest, and a good listener, until
you got him going.-
The slide of the Priest’s woven window opened, and a gaunt man
looked at Hannigan through the thick screen. He probably died
when he was 30, but it had been a hard 30 years, aging him
almost to his fifties, with gray through his Franciscan hair and
lines on his face. Hannigan looked better when he died.
[I] “Do you need me, my son, or are you handling this
yourself?”[/I] mused Iago.
Hannigan grinned, shaking his head. “Sorry, Father. It’s been 70
years since my last confession.”
[I] “Sadly, our sins cannot be forgiven by the Almighty. Yet you
are not here to confess. But you are here to unburden yourself,
nontheless.”[/I]
“You got me there, padre. This case I’m workin in a
quagmire,”he pulled the cigarette case out of his jacket pocket.
Iago cleared his throat.
[I] “If you smoke in here, you will only be able to speak in
Latin for the next week, Joseph. Now, how can I help?”[/i]
[/center]
#Post#: 525--------------------------------------------------
Re: The Detective is In / Out of his Mind
DIR By: Slick
Date: April 22, 2026, 7:48 pm
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[center] “Where do I start?”
“You can start with the death of a kindred. That is your case,
is it not?"
“I see you’re keeping with current affairs. It’s all FUBAR.
Could be any Kindred in the court. Could be any outside the
court. Every stone I turn over, there’s another stone. And
another. How do you uncover the truth when everyone has
something to hide? “
“Ours has always been a city of hidden truths and intrigues.
Kindred are duplicitous by nature. Which is why your position is
such a necessary one. Trust that the Father will guide you
through the forest of falsehoods that lies in your path.”
"Makin’ me real hopeful here, Iago. Not even sure I can trust
anyone. I think I’m half mad for even talking to you.”
“Do not mock, boy. You are all mad, and thus you are as blessed
as you are cursed. I was a Shepard of Men, and now I am a
Shepard of Kindred. The same is true for you. That’s why you
speak to me.”
“I just thought it was cause I got tired of the voices in my
head.”
He caught Iago’s eye through the wire screen. “Be quiet.” And
Hannigan felt his throat constrict. He only nodded. They sat
there in silence, though in the Memory Warehouse of his mind, he
could hear the priest rooting around. Finally, Iago spoke.
[I] “The Setites would not strike unless they thought they had
the advantage. Their corruption can be found in our Court, but
it is not the catalyst to this breach in the Masquerade. Roland
Marbroux was a particular kind of deviant. Deviants are who you
should investigate for the Serpent’s taint. But as far as his
killer is concerned,”[/I]
The father tapped his chin, thinking. Hannigan could only sit
there, put in time out by his elder. Iago shrugged.
[I] “I do not think he was murdered in regards to the
Setites,”[/I] Iago, as a priest, refused to address them as “The
Ministry”, “Instead, he was chosen precisely because he was so
hated. The investigation would be…”[/I] he stopped himself,
looking at Hannigan and making a face. [I] “Chaos. I apologize,
my son. You may speak.”[/I]
“Full of hope and optimism, Father. As you can tell, I’m gonna
need all the help I can get. Which brings me to my next favor to
ask. Where’s your Alter Boy?”
[i]“Uriah? Be careful with him, Joseph. He’s a delicate boy.”
“He knows as much about this city as any Sewer Rat. It’ll be
good, gettin’ him out on the job. Have him do some good.”
“Perhaps you are right. He’s been in a foul mood of late. I
haven’t seen him in a couple of nights, however. Probably off at
that cabin of his. If you go visit him, will you give him
something for me?”
“Sure.”
They would exit the booths, Iago going off to his rectory before
coming back and handing a leather glad bible with a clasp.
“He’s an alter boy and he don’t have the Good Book?”
Iago opened it, showing a sterling silver flask inside. “Father,
you booze bag.”
“He fasts, sometimes, or only sups from God’s creatures. Make
sure he is nourished, Joseph.”
Sighing, Hannigan would nod and take the Bible, taking it under
his arm and heading out to his car.
——————————————————
-Uriah Travers. 200 years old. Malkavian. Thinks he’s an
Abomination. Half Vamp. Half Lupine. It’s crazy talk, but that’s
our clan for you. Uriah was supposedly breeding stock for a pack
of twisted Werewolves called Black Spiral dancers. Saw all kinds
of fucked up shit grown’ up. Some Lunatic used poor Uriah as an
experiment, seeing if he could use the Lupine’s “kin” to
infiltrate them. It backfired. They killed his sire, but spared
Uriah. By the time some Gangrel found him outside the city, he
was almost a wight. They took him to Iago, who helped bring the
kid back from the brink.
Uriah was antisocial, thought no one would accept him for what
he was. But it meant he got good at being invisible. Following,
studying, listening to other Kindred, like he was trying to
better understand us. As a result, he was usually a wealth of
information. Just no one ever bothered to ask. I just wish I’d
have been able to ask him at the church, and not a cabin the
woods. -
The sickly yellow light of the headlights came upon the barely
visible dirt road that lead to Uriah’s cabin. The pile of leaves
that should have been caked there had been disturbed, like
another car had been there recently. When Hannigan eased into
the turn, his eyes widened.
-My hopes of information went up in smoke. Uriah’s cabin was up
in flames. From a hundred yards away I could see it crackling in
an inferno. I shift into reverse and swerve out of the driveway
onto the shoulder, barely grabbing my keys out of the ignition
before I’m out of the car. My weapon is in my hand before I can
process it, and my feet are moving. But the closer I get, the
panic sets in. The flames stir my beast, reminding me that what
I run towards is a primordial fear. And like a madman, I was
running towards the danger instead of away from it. If I’d had
bowels, I’d have shit my pants.-[/center]
#Post#: 526--------------------------------------------------
Re: The Detective is In / Out of his Mind
DIR By: Slick
Date: April 22, 2026, 11:36 pm
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[center]Hannigan braced against a tree, trying to steady his
nerves. He reached into the pocket of his overcoat, pulling out
the Bible Iago gave him. Flicking open the clasp with his thumb,
he opened the book, the flask falling to the leaves at his feet.
the Bible was dropped and he picked up the flask, holstering his
weapon a moment to open it and take a sip. Like a nip of whiskey
to steady the nerves. The blood was fresh, and full of
melancholy. Likely taken from one of Iago’s herd, it wasn’t the
vintage he’d hoped for, but it was better than nothing. Tucking
the silver flask away, he drew his hand cannon again, and
started once more towards the burning cabin.
When he came to the small clearing ahead of the collapsed porch,
he saw the fire raging, but its flames raged so violently
because it was contained within an invisible force, protecting
the trees and bushes that surrounded the cabin. The heat coming
off was dimmed, yet it still made Hannigan’s skin tingle and his
gut flip. He gritted his teeth and clacked himself in the
temple.
-Focus. Melancholy toughens the skin. I had to keep my mind
sharp on my own.
I smell burning flesh along with the smoke, and along with the
blood on the soil, I’m guessing’ it wasn’t a barbecue. Looking
around the front yard, I see tire tracks. There aren’t bodies;
only pieces. Bits of gore. A loose arm or leg would have been
nice, but I’m guessin’ they got chucked in the smoker.-
Hannigan looked to the house, and the fear held him for a
moment. His beast snarled, yet he felt himself start to
disassociate.
-Flame Fatale. A beauty in the Blaze. Uriah likely danced with
that cruel mistress. Terrified, worse. A poor animal tortured in
the woods. Kindred make good kindling. This whole grove should
have been in flames. Magic kept it contained. Whose magic? I
kept searching, trailing around the house. In the bushes was a
weapon. Semi-auto shotgun. One of the newer, high tech brands.
Could be military. The extra shells on the bandolier around the
stock varied between full slugs and, unsurprisingly,
draongsbreath rounds. I holstered my pistol, loading the shells
and putting the stock in my shoulder. I needed to finish this
sweep and fast.-
He was at the west side of the house. A terrifying roar erupted
from further behind it. Loud enough it rattled Hannigan’s bones.
He jumped into the tree line, drawing on obfuscate to vanish
from sight. Foolishly, he pressed on, flanking around to see
what had caused the inhuman cacophony.
-I couldn’t hear it from the front of the house. The wood
burning, falling apart had been so loud, it obscured the sounds
of battle raging behind it. I should have taken the shotgun as a
boon and turned tail by now. Do forensics on it, see what turns
up. Cause now, I was lookin’ at something no Kindred ever wants
to see: Half a dozen blood thirsty werewolves.-
To the left, Hannigan saw a nine foot behemoth, his pelt a sleek
black with a large gray stripe going down an impossibly muscled
torso. It swung a double sided battle axe in quick, devastating
swipes that drove back two smaller, but still hulking lupines.
These were black as well, but their coats looked sickly. One had
what looked like mange, and the other seemed to be dripping a
vile ichor from its matted fur. They both welded large, jagged
daggers.
Beyond them, a tall, gaunt wolf, hairless with black and white
splotches over what appeared to be ritual scars. A corse hung
out of its distended maw while it jabbed a fiery piece of rebar
at a red-furred opponent, who glanced the attack away with a
large, wooden war club. Closer to the house, a werewolf with
brown and white fur, wearing a tunic and bracelets, kept a
large, clawed hand focused at the house, while having a spear
poised to throw in the other. Hannigan thought for a moment it
looked female, but barely. Amber colored eyes shifted towards
the woods. Right in Hannigan’s direction. It’s eyes narrowed
-Shit. Can it see me?-
The werewolf’s lips curled up, showing knife like fangs.
-Time to cut this thread.-
A shotgun full of dragonsbreath would just piss the lupines off
more. The only silver he had was in the flask, and he didn’t
want to be close enough to have to hit them with it. He moved
from the woods, avoiding anything to rustle and make noise
before he was running as fast as his loafers could carry him. A
high pitch yelp came from behind him. A triumphant roar
followed. Something hit the ground near the Malkavian with a wet
thump. The top of the mangy Black Spiral Dancer was severed from
one shoulder to below the other arm. The mockery of a wolf was
bleeding away to a malformed man. Hannigan nearly tripped over
himself booking it to the car.
He drove straight for Carp’s haven.[/center]
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