Midnight has fallen. The blood moon is rising. Red light spills into the town, staining the world with crimson. But tonight, the streets are still.
Two vampire families used to feud over the city of Nightdark, over the right to feed on the men and women who live within. The aristocratic Castimir family, and the modern Vamp group.
The Castimir are old blood and old money. They believe in living quietly, hiding from the sun and humanity, controlling the town, and the world, from the shadows. Hierarchy and age rule the day. Elders are to be feared and respected. Everyone knows the Family, and everyone who knows about the dark part of the world respects or fears them, or both.
Except for the Vamps. They ran the streets, and anyone who said otherwise didn't say so for very long. Once an offshoot of the Castimir, they had cast off all trappings of the old family. The most capable were given the most power. Age and hierarchy were meaningless.
That was, until the Castimir finally grew tired of the Vamps and their antics. Over the space of a single night, they wiped the Vamps out, obliterating them down to the last man. Shops were smashed, homes set alight. Men, women, and children were slaughtered. Nothing and no one survived.
Or so they thought.
A few Vamps survived the night. They cling to the brinks of the shadows and lurk in dark alleyways. The Castimir kill them on sight, but they stay hidden and wait for their chance to fight back. Pushed to the brink, a few of them have found one another and now band together, honing their skills to strike at the heart of the Castimirs.
You are one of these Vamps, or otherwise someone with a grudge against the Castimirs. While you eke away a living in the shadows, your hatred for the Castimirs only grows. Sooner or later, it will reach a breaking point.
[center [pic https://i.imgur.com/UEFxJ05.gif?1]]
[center [b [http://rp.eliteskills.com/vc.php?c=343292 ☾ ☆ Lore ☆ ☾ ]]] [center [i More on the world, vampires, and other things. FAQ are answered here. ]]
[center [b Races]] [b Vampires] can be born or turned. At creation, they gain a vampiric power, and they gain another every hundred years. See Lore for more information. [b Dhampir] are the rare output of vampires breeding with another race. These half-breeds generally do not live past 50, though age at half-speed past 12. They tend to be sickly and are unable to have children, but are natural vampire hunters. Their blood is poison to vampires. [b Werewolves] are generally the servants/guard dogs of vampires, and have a lot of brute force but less finesse. They can turn at any time, more lycanthrope than traditional werewolf, but grow stronger with the moon phases. [b Mages], or humans with magic, tend to be targeted by vampires as prizes, and need to be strong enough to protect themselves or else end up dead. Magic is not overwhelmingly powerful in this world, however, and takes a lot of stamina to use. Very few mages born in Nightdark successfully evade the vampires for long. [b Vampire hunters] are usually ordinary humans with some combat abilities, but can be any mix of other races.
[center [b Rules] ES Standard Apply No godmodding, cybering, etc. No Gary Stues/Mary Sues No edgelords No drama Strong grammar/syntax preferred Third person past tense only Posting will happen in rounds, no strict order. Post once per round. A post from me marks the start of a new round. To apply, please PM me a link to your character's page or post the link in RT chat below. Posting chat in the roleplay area will lead to an automatic refusal of your character. Looking for 4-6 characters total. Illustrated or classy, non-recognizable-character anime pictures only.]
Roleplay Reply. Do not chat here. (1500 character limit.)
There was a better turnout than he'd expected. The little girl was a bit off-putting, but the rest of them were basically what he'd expected; hard-boiled, embittered, tossed around by the world--or at least the Castimirs--and thrown out with the garbage. He found himself wondering what their backstories were, why these people hated the vampires enough to risk everything and meet up in this scummy bar, but stopped himself from asking. He could imagine the most of it. And better not to bring up old wounds.
One of them he knew a little better than the others, but he ignored her for now. Best to address that issue later.
He let a few minutes pass, figuring there might be some slowpokes. A latecoming redhead appeared through the curtain, and he nodded and decided it was finally time to start. The influx had slowed to a trickle, around eight or ten people in the room, and if he waited much longer, they might not all fit in the room.
"You've missed nothing. We're just getting started," he said, a gracious host. Meph climbed onto a nearby chair and looked around from a step up. Not a much better view from up here, but he'd take what he could get.
"Everyone. You're all here for one reason, right?" he asked, looking around the room. "Those damn Castimir. They've ruined everything. Our lives. Our pasts. Our friends. But listen--we [i can] strike back. We can still take them down!"
He looked around the room, a bit of a grin on his lips. "I've found a weakness in their armor. A crack in the supply line. The snooty higher-up Castimir get their blood from Central Hospital, downtown."
Most vampires went out and did their own hunting, but the Castimir had pawns everywhere, and why waste their precious time doing such a brutal, base thing as hunting? It pissed him off just thinking about it. And of course no one else could get their blood so easily. If [i they] tried to steal hospital blood, the government would take notice, and someone would say something to the Castimir, and it'd all come crashing down on the thief's head, but if the [i Castimir] did it, it was all fine. Stupid Castimir and their stupid double standards.
"Everyone knows that!" a man in a green military coat yelled out.
Meph glared. He was [i getting] to it. "The [i weakness]," he continued, annoyed, "is that this weekend, the Castimir are all attending the big hoity-toity party for the matriarch's birthday. Her five-hundredth or thousandth or something, I dunno. Point is, all their security will be attending the party instead. There'll only be a skeleton shift at Central. Which gives [i us] the perfect time to destroy their operation at Central." He grinned at the room. It was an excellent plan, wasn't it? A perfect weakness, an excellent opportunity.
[font "Times New Roman" It was already four, and his customer was late. Evans looked at his watch in distaste, his blue eyes narrowing. He didn't like late, but alas, it was a late that was paying.
[i I should raise the price based on professionalism,] he thought to himself. The man straightened his vest as he checked his surroundings to maintain vigilance. While Nightdark had never been the most outstanding place as far as he knew, it had somehow managed to get worse. The citizens were more afraid since the Vamps had been wiped out... or, according to a mysterious somebody, [i nearly] wiped out. Didn't much matter. The point remained that the Castimirs remained an ubiquitous force not often reckoned with. Not necessarily a force he feared, but one he remained extremely wary of.
Evans had heard of the meeting from one of his few remaining customers. It was honestly in amazing timing because he'd been in the process of leaving Nightdark; if there was no business, there was no need for him. He'd heard once or twice that the Vatican, of all places, was in need of someone of his skillset.
Then again, he could always go pick his career up where he'd left it. It just so happened that it didn't involve spells, but graphing paper and measurements.
A hooded and very visibly paranoid figure appeared in Evans' line of sight. He checked his watch again: thirteen minutes late. Unacceptable, but for the sake of business--
[b "You are late,"] he offered lightly so as not to seem confrontational. He eased off the side of the building he was leaning against, a little deli in a low-foot-traffic part of the city, and smoothed down his clothes again. [b "I will excuse it this once."]
"Yeah, yeah, whatever. You got it?" The man looked quickly over both shoulders, dipping into slight shadows on the side of the building, prompting Evans to raise an unimpressed eyebrow.
[b "This is my job. Yes, I have it."]
"Alright, cool, cool." Another look over his shoulders as he pulled out a wrinkled envelope full of what could be assumed to be money. His hands were clammy as he handed it off, which Evans exchanged for a plain, small cardboard box. Nothing else was said. Both men peeled off in separate directions. Evans checked his envelope as he departed and a little grin appeared on his otherwise stoic features.
He stowed the envelope in a pocket in his suit jacket. He was pretty easy to spot if you knew what you were looking for because he always wore something in the same color scheme and of the same general variety. Evans thought of himself as a man of simple tastes in this manner.
The mage decided he'd be better early than late as he began walking towards Reggio's. He hummed lightly to himself, happy for once with some money in his pocket. Of course, he did have some expenses to pay off that were rather unsavory...
He walked for thirty minutes before he arrived to the uglier part of Nightdark that Reggio's resided in. It was good that it was such a cool day or he would've been a disgusting, sweaty mess, something he hated with all of his being.
Looking at Reggio's made him itch. It was disgusting in every sense of the word. His lip curled up as he stepped inside, as careful as he could to keep his extremities to himself to avoid unnecessary germs. It was still light outside, so much of it was empty save for the bartender, who Evans assumed was [i the] Reggio, and a couple patrons. Evans dipped his head with an accompanying polite smile as he entered and immediately tried to seek out the cleanest table. Needless to say, it was difficult to find.
He stayed for what seemed like years before anyone came in. There was a man with a shock of green hair that greeted the bartender. He disappeared into the backroom. Then there was a man who looked like a spectre of death that also disappeared into said room with what looked like a little girl. Evans raised a single questioning eyebrow, but didn't say anything; he'd seen freaks of all shapes and sizes in his line of work. He didn't bother to address anything anymore. A few minutes later a woman with beautiful blue eyes also entered the room. Could this be them? He looked down at his watch. Was he somehow late? He continued to linger in his booth, watching as another dark-haired beauty entered the room, looking nothing less than depression as a person. The most interesting person of the night was a tie between the last woman, whose hair rivaled that of the man with green locks.
Evans decided it may be time to make his entrance. Once again he dusted himself off, checking to make sure his attire was still in top shape as he followed suit into the back room. His gaze around the room was brief to keep the disgust off his face as long as possible. He ventured a smile at the diverse cast. [b "Well excuse me if I am late, ladies and gentlemen, the flies on the wall did not happen to mention a time. What have I missed?"]]
Finally, finally tonight's shift was over. Agitated footsteps move through the building, only making a brief stop at the lost and found. Tiredly grabbing what she needed, Jaydee Malik was finally off the clock. She throws on a borrowed black jacket that was up for grabs and zipped it up all the way, making use of the hood up only after lighting a joint between her lips. The smoke floats in a semi-transparent trail behind her as it fades. Bright eyes gradually adjust to the dark streets and blinking neon signs outside.
Her nose wrinkles when she senses the presence of a small gathering of drunks behind her. Their overly ripe, spray covered scents burned through her nostrils unpleasantly and their obnoxious voices were getting louder and louder. When one of them starts talking to her she decides to split off, and deliberately take a wrong couple of turns just to see if the fool would try following at all. She grinned a little at the idea of steering unwanted company so far off course they got lost in the middle of this district.
It seemed like such a stupid idea to blindly go to this part of town just because a rumor vaguely instructed her to. What if this meeting at Reggio's to "take back power" was actually a bust put together by some Vamp trying to lure in rebels and silence them? There was no way anyone from the Castimirs could be behind this. The location was too decrepit for anyone from that family to have thought of, the elitist pricks. But that didn't mean someone else on their side hadn't been given the order.
Cracks in the door just outside the entrance at the foot of a dingy old staircase. An empty front room save for the lone werewolf that stood behind the bar and ignored her. She can smell vampires and one other werewolf besides Reggio in the building, but their respective scents are further away from this area. If this was a bust, were they all working together or was it just one of them with a handful of hostages?
Reggio must have guessed what she was thinking, as the old man began shaking his head derisively. He gestured to the curtain, which was probably his way of telling her to go about her business here and that the only suspicious activity here was her apparent foolishness. The Reggio inside her imagination sure was an ass, she thought in mild amusement. Having known the man for a total of two minutes and some change he clearly wasn't bothered in the least by having his location as the headquarters for a rebel meeting... or trap, whichever this ended up being.... The hunter sighed, throwing back the curtain and moving on toward the back room.
She scanned the room, feeling only a little childish when it didn't appear to be the weird situation that probably didn't exist. [i Yet.] Reggio be damned, any one of these strangers could absolutely flip on them all; the small girl with bright blue eyes, or the female that seemed to be her friend. Or even the tall vampire covered head to toe in what looked like a funky Grimm reaper cosplay and the little pale girl hovering around him. Or the female werewolf over by the back wall who didn't look like she cared to chat anyone up-- a feeling probably most of them shared right now. Everything about this setup was suspicious, and then to make matters worse a familiar flash of green hair entered her line of vision. She hesitated to remove her jacket, deeply regretting the decision to be here.
[size11 The smell of sweat tinged with alcohol was so thick that it could nearly be seen with the naked eye. Kitya has learned to ignore it by now. Keeping to seedier parts of town where vagrants traveled in groups seemed to be the best strategy to staying alive. She’d managed to avoid their constant patrols thus far, though it was pretentious to think that the Castimir cared at all about one loose werewolf that used to belong to them. Still, she wasn’t going to take any chances.]
[size11 It helped that vampires were easy to pick out from a crowd by their scent. It was a rare thing to catch the aroma of death in a group of humans, something so unfailingly stuck in her system that she’d know it anywhere. She’d grown from a pup with that smell surrounding her, permeating her every sense. It was easy to avoid them when they were practically animated corpses. That didn’t stop her getting the chills whenever she crossed one, friendly or no.]
[size11 It wasn’t like Kit to willingly participate in anything that involved more than one person. She had been going it alone for so long that she’d forgotten how to function in a group. The idea of getting close to people only to lose them... she couldn’t do it again. But that’s not what [i this] was. She wasn’t traveling to the most decrepit part of the city to a shit hole in the wall to make friends. This was about something so much bigger than any group of people. This was about revenge, a whole heap of it. Kit had no doubt that many people wished to exact some form of vengeance on the Castimir. She couldn’t be the only one. Not with the way they held themselves and conducted their business. That shit stepped on a lot of toes.]
[size11 Kitya has heard the whisperings a week ago, just a murmur of a rumor heard in a club that she’d never been to. She knew a friend of a friend that worked in one of those fucking blood banks, willingly letting vampires feed from him to earn some scratch. It gave her the willies just thinking about offering up her neck to the likes of them. Not that they would want her blood anyway. Who in their right mind wanted to suck the neck of a dog? It just wasn’t cultured. Though she’d met a few in her lifetime that had tried, none ever succeeded. She was stronger than she looked.]
[size11 Standing before the busted up door to Reggio’s for a good six minutes, Kit weighed her options. She could already smell them, there were vampires here, and she didn’t really have any love for vampires. But, on the other hand, if they were against the Castimir... the enemy of my enemy. In the end, what drew her into the bar was the scent of another wolf, which hit her smack in the face like a brick wall the moment she crossed the threshold. Her amber eyes flickered to the man behind the bar, all scars and vitriol. She subconsciously fingered the scars at her wrists, burned in by silver to keep her obedient. The two shared a silent moment of familiarity, a kinship that only wolves could understand. They knew the strength of being around your own kind. Reggio tipped his head subtly to the side, directing Kit’s gaze toward the curtain where she realized there were voices. She trusted the other wolf, because she need to.]
[size11 Sauntering through the curtain, Kitya quickly took stock of the room and those inhabiting it. There were no wolves here, at least not yet. The look on her face betrayed no emotion, and she didn’t speak to anyone. She simply walked to the back wall and leaned against it, pushing some of her ebony hair behind on of her very barely pointed ears. She didn’t like this, that much was clear in the tension of her shoulders and the way she crossed her arms over her chest. She didn’t like this at all, but she hoped that it wasn’t a waste of her time.]
[center [EB+Garamond [size15 Bright sapphire eyes peered around a corner, darting left and right a few times. Satisfied that no one was paying any attention a petite female moved into the street, making sure to look as pathetic as possible. Around her couples and drunkards spilled into the open street, laughter and songs wafting from the nearby establishments. [i "maybe I should have listened to Meela...."] she thought to herself. She had listened in on a conversation her guardian and another straggling Vamp were having, something about changing things and taking power back. It was enough to get her interest, if the group her mother had loved so much were planning on getting back at the Castimir than she would help - regardless of what Meela thought.]]]
[center [EB+Garamond [size15 She was a rare phenomenon among all vampires, a child born of a human and a vampire. Because of what she was though she was often getting sick and from birth constantly sheltered and hidden away from the world. Her mother Victoria had been an important figure among the Vamp gang and while she wanted to show her daughter the life she loved she knew it was dangerous. Though hiding did nothing, that bloody night the damned Castimir found them and slaughtered Sia's mother right in front of her. She couldn't remember how she and Meela got away and the woman refused to tell her.]]]
[center [EB+Garamond [size15 Alessia turned quickly into an alley and then moved to a staircase that was practically hidden among the shadows. She hesitated before the cracked door, wondering if she was making the right decision. No doubt Meela was already there and would throw a fit upon seeing her...but this was her decision. If it killed her then so be it.]]]
[center [EB+Garamond [size15 Taking a deep breath she exhaled as she pushed the door open. The twinkling of a bell startled her but not as much as the large man behind the counter. His face looked like it'd been through a wood chipper - it was mangle to hell. She quickly looked to the floor and her surroundings nervously. [#48D1CC "could you show me where the backroom is?"] The dhampir asked in a very monotone voice. The man grunted and pointed to a curtain, no doubt wondering why such a frail looking girl would be there. Quickly she moved and pushed the curtain aside, entering the room.]]]
[center [EB+Garamond [size15 Before she could really take a look around a firm grip on her shoulder made her jump. [b "Sia...what the hell are you doing here?"] Meela sounded angry. Alessia slowly glanced upwards, her face showing no emotion. [#48D1CC "I heard you and that guy talking, I wanted in on it."] She said, moving to the side to stand with Meela. She took note of a few other Vamps who were there. A guy with some interesting green hair, an older guys with a small girl and some others. Not as many as she was expecting. Meela rubbed her nose, a sigh slipping past her lips. [b "Jesus Alessia, your mother would kill me if she was still alive."] Sharp eyes darted to the older vampire, narrowing. Meela stopped moving for a second, startled by the hate that filled the young girls eyes. [b "I'm sorry Sia...that was insensitive of me. But you know how easily you get sick."] Meela said softly, wanting her to understand. Alessia huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. [#48D1CC "Yes...but I'm also deadly to them. Why not use what I have to kill them?"] She asked. Meela didn't say a word, there was no way shew as going to convince Alessia to not participate.]]]
[center [EB+Garamond [size15 They stood there for awhile, Meela felt uncomfortable so decided to speak to Sia. [b "You know Sia, have I ever told you that your a spitting image of your mother? You two have the same eye color and raven hair."] She said. Sia didn't say anything, she knew very well how much she looked like the woman she loved, it hurt her to even look at her own reflection in a mirror.]]]
Two figures, sticking to the shadows as they moved, stilled as two men in black coats walked down the street. Their presence alone sent shivers down the spines of the people around them - all but one of the figures didn't even do as much as flinch. The smallest figure of the two took a step closer to its companion, grabbing on to an arm in fright.
Once the two clearly unwanted and feared men disappearing behind a wall, the two figures stepped out into the dim streetlights, their features clearing up slightly due to the light.
The larger one was a relatively tall man, clad in all black leather and a hooded trenchcoat with his face covered by a skull mask. The skin tight clothing hugged his muscular form perfectly. The smaller figure was a young girl, reaching just up to her companion's waist. Her gorgeous pale skin and reddish pink eyes shone in the moonlight above. Her hair was a silky white color, cut to a medium length; the back went up to her neck and her fringe was parted to the side. She wore a white dress that ended just under her knees.
"I wonder when they'll stop patrolling the streets like this..." the girl complained, sighing quietly as she tugged on her companion's arm; her sign for saying it was clear to continue on. The man frowned from behind his mask, glowering at the spot where the Castimir patrol had disappeared. He didn't trust them. Regardless, he turned away and moved his hand onto the young girl's shoulder, walking on to their destination; Reggio's Bar. Hardly the place for a young girl, he thought, but it was one of the few places that was safe from the Castimir's prying eyes. Many things happened in that bar that the bartender and owner; Reggio, never spoke of to anyone.
"Kael?" she spoke up again, craning her head back and looking up at the masked face of her friend and companion. She continued only once the man, Kael, tilted his head down to look at her. "Are you sure this isn't some kind of trap? If the rumor reached you, an ex-Castimir, then surely it could have reached the family too?" she inquired, a little bit worried that they were being brought into a trap. "Or maybe the rumor was made by the Castimir, themselves? Isn't it possible?"
Kael's expression softened, glad for the mask covering his face, at her words, and he pat her back in a comforting action. He leaned down slightly, bending his legs somewhat, to be able to whisper in his companion's ear. [i "You worry much, Camille-"] before he could continue, she interjected, "Maybe, but it's for a good reason!"
Camille pouted at him; she clearly didn't trust their situation but Kael didn't blame her for that in the slightest. It was possible that this was a trap, yes, but they wouldn't know if they didn't go and he wasn't about to regret missing out on an opportunity to get revenge for Camille's parents and for the countless of innocent Vamps slaughtered during the Castimir raid.
[i "I'm not sure that this isn't a trap."] he paused, standing back up and straightening himself. [i "So just stay close to me, I'll keep you safe. If things head the wrong way, we'll be out of there as quickly as possible."] She hesitated for a moment, before smiling at him and nodding. "Okay!" He smiled down at her, ruffling her hair playfully before setting off again.
It took no longer than 15 minutes before they got to Reggio's and the closer they got, the closer Camille got to him, both hands wrapped tightly around one of his hands. "I don't like the smell, Kael." Kael chuckled quietly, reaching out to pick her up and she jumped up into his arms before he made his way down the stairs. They were so worn and broken that Kael didn't even want to be here.
With a small sigh, he reached to open the door with one hand, the glass broken and on the verge of shattering. "Well now, this place is a disaster and a half, isn't it." Camille whispered to him. Kael had half the mind to tell her not to talk badly about people's property like this but he dropped it. She already knew not to, but this place truly was a mess. He'd never come here for something other than business - and then he might not even come here.
The bell's ringing signaled their entrance, the bartender looking up to greet them - or perhaps just to see who had entered. He'd heard stories about how horribly disfigured Reggio's face was and the stories did it no justice whatsoever. He grimaced slightly behind his mask but didn't flinch, Camille just stared for a moment before looking away and around the room. Eventually her gaze turned back to the bartender when Kael put her back down on the floor.
"Excuse me, could you kindly point the way to the back room?" Camille spoke up, careful and determined not to touch anything in this hellhole of a bar. Kael nodded a greeting to Reggio before placing a hand on Camille's shoulder, bringing her towards the back where he had seen a curtain move slightly. "Oh! Sorry, we got it. Don't let us distract you from your glass cleaning, mister!" Kael gave her a very gentle push, as if telling her that was uncalled for, and she stumbled a little, glowering up at him.
"You didn't have to push me, Kael!" Kael grunted, rolling his eyes and ushering her forward to the curtain. She pulled it open and with fake excitement, turned around and spread her arms. "Tah-dah!" she exclaimed, before turning on her heels and slipping into the room, Kael right behind her. "I couldn't see even the lowest of the Castimir family touching a place like this with a 10 foot pole. I guess that's reason enough for someone to pick this place..."
The two headed further inside; the only person there was a young man with green hair - Kael found the hairstyle rather strange but decided to keep his comments to himself. He assumed the man was the one who had spread the rumor, after all, if that person was late, then Kael really wouldn't have much faith in the situation.
The streets were dark. Dark and lively. Groups of friends jostled each other, chattering more loudly than they needed to. Couples wandered down the street arm-in-arm, while singles were propositioned from dark alleyways, bodies and chemicals hawked in equal measure.
A man in a black coat stalked down the street, face shadowed from the streetlights. Shoulders squared, back stiff, he passed by without so much as acknowledging the revelry around him. Even the most drunken of late-night wanderers stiffened and quieted as he passed by, sulking back into their alleys. The singles hesitated, while the couples and groups suddenly clenched in on themselves. The man moved in a wave of silence and sudden chills-down-backs. And when he passed, the street burst back into sound, perhaps louder than before, as though the revelers did not know why they had quieted and yet were trying to make up for it.
From one of the alleyways, a thinner man with a shock of green hair peered out, checking both ways just to be sure. [i Damn Castimir patrolmen,] Meph thought to himself, scowling. Had to patrol out here in the damned red-light district, even. Couldn't a man get drunk in peace? They'd kill him on sight even now, just for being on the wrong side for a brief, shining moment. These days, it seemed like only the Castimir remembered the brief tenure of the Vamps, and then only enough to grind the remnants' noses in the dust. Everyone had gotten the lesson the first time.
Then again, maybe not, because he was certainly not about to give up on getting back at those assholes any time soon.
He'd put out a rumor, a notice, of sorts. The kind of words that would reach the ears of those who were displeased with the way things were, a whisper passed around bars and unsavory places. [i If you want to change things, take back power from] their [i hands, then meet at the back room at Reggio's,] it went. He knew the Castimir had plenty of enemies. If they all worked together, maybe they'd be able to do something. Eke out a territory again. Maybe even tear that awful family down to size, for once.
But that was assuming anyone showed up in the first place.
Reggio's was off the beaten path. Meph ducked down another alley, then turned and started down a staircase, at the bottom of which was a glass door spiderwebbed with cracks from some fight or another. The interior was dimly lit, a few stools and tables placed around a dirty floor. A huge man stood behind the bar, polishing a glass. As the bell rang above the door, he looked up, and if Meph hadn't been used to it, he might have flinched. The man's face was horribly scarred, the right half of it, furthest from the door, absolutely ripped apart and poorly sewn back together again. His right eye was milky white and partially hidden by a mop of salt-and-pepper hair, and when he saw Meph, he made an expression somewhere between a grimace and a nod of recognition.
"Evenin', Reggio," he said, lifting a hand in greeting. The bartender ignored him, as usual.
There were many bars in Nightdark, and Reggio's was one of the worst; the beer was cheap, the drafts were watered, and the food was unmentionably abysmal. Reggio, the bar's titular owner and often the bartender as well, was an old werewolf. He catered to supernaturals, and was willing to turn his blind eye to anything unsavory; a useful trait for the little coup Meph was trying to achieve. The backroom was used for parties, sometimes dart tournaments, sometimes pool, but today, it was empty. He'd arranged for it to be so, and it'd cost a sum he didn't like to mention.
People had [i better] show up. He hadn't put down that cash for nothing. So determined, Meph pushed aside the curtain that had long replaced the back room's door and looked around. Had anyone arrived yet?