Kamau Machiavelli. He is a warrior born as a ghetto child. His whole life has been a struggle. The streets taught him how to kill--how to survive. He has never done a single valorous thing in is life, until one fateful night…

The streets were calm and quiet, the only sound to be heard was Machiavelli's Timberland boots as they hit the pavement. He had just been sprung from the pen and was in a philosophical mood. He had twenty dollars to his name and was all alone in the world, the rest of is crew rotted in jail as he walked free, and that weighed heavily on his mind. Walking always eased his thoughts, and so he wandered through the barren ghetto of Cascadia.
The silence was shattered suddenly by a scream. Without thinking Kamau Ran down an alley to its source. A man clasp to a young woman's neck. Without thought kamau raised a 2X4 from the ground. He charged to the man and slammed it over his head, he immediately fell to the ground. Machiavelli dropped the plank and caught the woman before she hit the pavement. "You aight?" he spoke calmly softly, she didn’t respond. "Come on wake up…" he checked her neck, but despite the massive amount of blood there was no wound. He checked her pulse--it was weak.
Machiavelli felt a hand clasp is shoulder. It lifted him off the ground and flung him against a dumpster. Kamau regained his composer and rose to his feet quickly. He looked over is assailant, he wore a leather trench coat, and had long black hair down to is shoulder, but the fact that he had fangs was the first thing Kamau noticed
"What the fuck are you?" He reached behind him to feel for anything he could use as a weapon
"The last thing you'll ever see!" The vampire charged at Machiavelli. Machiavelli felt quickly behind him but time had run out, he grabbed the first thing he could and swung it. Shards from the wooden crate penetrated the vampire's chest. He immediately stopped and keeled over.
"Shit mother fucker. Vampire my ass. " Machiavelli removed the trench coat, within the pockets were a Glock-9 and 200 dollars, but no wallet. Just as well, Kamau thought, he would have hated to find out he had kids. The coat was in top condition, so he put it on. He walked to the woman, she was unconscience. "suppose I should bring her to the hospital." he looked around first before he emptied the contents of her purse. He picked her up and carried her 4 blocks to the hospital. He left her on the steps and hurried off before anyone could see him.


((Sup everyone. Mortal character, this tread is open to all who wish to jump in, hes just walking the streets.

Euryon would have yawned had he possessed the breath to complete such a task. Cascadia was dead. Very dead. After the pandemonium with those were-beast... [i:793aaa477d]things[/i:793aaa477d], and the subsequent picquet on behlaf of the Cammarilla, Cascadia was very quiet indeed. Just the place he wanted right now. No fighting, no killing, nothing.

He leapt from rooftop to rooftop, no particular destination in mind. Just wandering, doing what he did best. He doubted he would remain here much longer, there was scant feeding for him. A lack of strong blood was not good for him.

However, a pause caught him. [i:793aaa477d]Here[/i:793aaa477d] was something, after all. Some event of interest. He did not watch for entertainment; battle was not a pleasant sight, but here was an interesting sight. A Vampire had been feeding, and disturbed. Euryon watched the events unfold. He had witnessed such situations countless times; and rarely seen it go any way other than the expected.

Yet, as he watched from his perch aside the alleyway, he saw the mortal gain the upperhand over the Cainite. Luck was not part of the equation in his mind. It took a certain kind of person to manage defence against a greater foe; and steely resilience to overcome odds. Luck was for the modest; if you believed in it, it would eventually run out.

The mortal managed to, intentionally or not, place the Vampire into stasis; he had managed to pierce its heart.

And here was gall. The mortal now pick-pocketed the wounded beast, and escaped. Indeed, an interesting turn of events. Euryon would pay attention to this mortal, at least until there was truly nothing for him here. Still, for the moment, waste not, want not.

The Gangrel leapt down into the alleyway, landing on his haunches and trampling over the the lifeless body. He reached down and pulled the wooden shards from the creature, which immediately rolled to its side and rose, quickly.

[i:793aaa477d]"What the FUCK are you?"[/i:793aaa477d], the Vampire was evidently not too experienced in the world of the dead.

[i:793aaa477d]"Ah'm somethin' similar to ye, laddie. Ah'm Vampire, and ah be 'ungry."[/i:793aaa477d]

Euryon said this with nothing but factual purpose. He stepped towards the Vampire, and reached out. The newly-freed creature stepped back, and turned, meaning to run from the [i:793aaa477d]beast[/i:793aaa477d] which now assailed him. He achieved nothing, as an icy claw gripped around his throat, exerting enough pressure to snap the spine running up his neck.

The Vampire gurgled out a cry of defiance, and was subsequently drunk from; indeed, nearly drained. But not quite.

[i:793aaa477d]"Ye lost to a weaker foe, Childe. Ah'll no' slay ye..."[/i:793aaa477d]

Euryons tongue danced over his lips, supping every last drop of vitae; the emptied Vampire listening with dwindling consciousness.

[i:793aaa477d]"Ah'll allow ye a last chance; it be a few hours till sun-rise. Ye can use yer will and fight on, or ye can give up an' die. Yer choice."[/i:793aaa477d]

Euryon dropped the body, and leapt up to the rooftops once more. The feeding had been scant, but enough. His distorted body imploded on itself and formed a perverted bird; a predator out of context.

Euryon glided close to the skyline, unafraid of whatever dangers may normally face a bird at such altitude, and followed the mortal on his path. Perhaps this was something of interest in an otherwise barren city.

((Cool, at last someone with balls to play a mortal. Can I ask under what pretence you play? Free RP or restricted? (IE, are you determinded to remain mortal, or prepared for any eventuality? Not that I am laying claim, mind you, just generally inquisitive :)

((free rp i suppose. If a vampire lays claim and i am embraced so be it, :) if i may ask what do you have in mind? very Nice post btw

((Now thats how to RP. Muchos respect. Thanks. Well, im not exactly looking for a childe, though itd certainly give me something to RP a lot (which is what im looking for). But I wont "lay claim". However, I guess Ive started the Gangrel watching. Depends on your character... Could lead to some very interesting situations depending on what happens. Nice to meet you ;)

NP: Sonata Arctica - The Misery

PS: i'll post again when more has happened ;)

Machiavelli fled the hospital ground quickly, if the police link him to any crime at all he be looking at 15 to 20 years in county. So now, it was back to wandering. Not many stores are open at night, with the exception of 7-11 and a few liquor stores, and after that encounter, Machiavelli needed a drink.

The door buzzed as Machiavelli walked through it. There was but a single Arab watching the store. Now normally Kamau would just get what he wants, clean the cash register and shoot Ghandi, but since this was his first day out of the joint, he figured it was best if he just pay for what ever he wants. He brought the 40 oz. to the counter and just as the Hindu rang it up two men entered the store with stockings on their head.

"this is a robbery" one yelled "empty the register!" the clerk complied as The second man knocked the camera off the wall

"Fuck, this shit always finds its way to me." he thought to himself. He took the 40 off the counter and opened it, he took a swig of it.

"You! get against the wall" the first man screamed, waving a shotgun in the air.

"No." He responded, taking another swig of the 40.

The man was somewhat baffled by the answer. "What? Against the wall now you fucking nigger" Machiavelli slowly moved his free hand into is coat pocket, grasping the glock. Before the would-be robbers knew it, three shots were fired off. One shot into each robbers leg, and the third into the arm of the man holding a shot gun. The men fell to the ground. Machiavelli lifted the shotgun and walked out of the 7-11 calmly.

"Shit, this happens in three's" he thought to himself as he fastened the shotgun into the large inner pocket of the leather trench coat. "At least I got a shotgun" he smiled smugly as he walked into the dark labyrinth of streets that is Cascadia

It was not difficult to track the mortal; it was often easy to follow a vampire who was attempting stealth, so a mortal in a rush was no problem. Still, caution was needed, so the Gangrel shielded himself from those without adequate sixth sense powers and followed the human to a hospital, where it unloaded the unconscious female, and fled.

[i:0578637039]Why does he run?

A human without desire for the thanks of such heroism?
Perhaps he does not desire to be noticed.[/i:0578637039]

The man walked past Euryon hurriedly, not sensing the old monster in any way; and Euryon trailed him... To what Euryon could only distinguish as a tavern for the extremely poor. One could not even quaff in comfort in its walls. What [i:0578637039]had[/i:0578637039] the world come to?

Euryon sat atop a brick wall on the opposite side of the road, waiting for the man; reasonably sure he would exit at some point, having no idea of his predicament. Then a pungent aroma inflamed his senses; concentrated gunpowder, a lot of it. How he despised that acrid stench; it was the aroma of cheap death.

Two men scurried across his line of sight, following the man inside the tavern; maybe this was why his quarry had no desire to be recognised? Assassins. Or perhaps just thieves. This would be another interesting test; how would the mortal react?

Then, three loud, distinct sounds - gunshots. And the man Euryon tracked left the tavern calmly; he had somehow overcome an element of surprise and number. This human ws proving himself considerably; two impressive victories in one night.

The thought of leading this hunt further did not yet cross the Gangrels mind; but maybe soon it would. Things had changed for Euryon very recently, so maybe his opinions on the undead would undergo a stout rethinking. Time would tell, it always did.

Machiavelli could hear the sirens buzz in the direction of the 7-11, but that wasn't his problem anymore.
He continued to follow his feet until he came to a cemetery. He walked down the rows of tombstones, and a tear welled up in his eye. He was looking for a specific stone, and soon he found it. He fell to one knee and buried his head in his hand.

"I miss you girl…" he whispered as a tear fell slow down is cheek. He kissed his pointer and middle finger and touched it to the grave. He felt as if he was being watched, cemeteries usually do that to people, he scanned the area before rising to his feet. Slowly he began to walk towards the cemetery gates.


(i had on hell of a day today, so its short and to the point, excellent post eury.

The Gangrel watched from afar as the mortal left the scene calmly, and made its way to a new destination. Euryon moved closer, closer, closer. Soon enough he was a mere ten yards behind the [i:163fb3be0b]kine[/i:163fb3be0b]; and could smell it - taste it. Its blood-sweat held no lust for Euryon, he was sated; but he studied its aroma.

He could sense the adrenalin, the mortal replacement for blood strength; a pathetic stooge, certainly, but it definately proved useful for the humans. And this particular mortal had a cool control over his powers; the recent fear was present, but it had been dealt with. Euryon was an old and experienced creature, and knew those that did not feel [i:163fb3be0b]The Fear[/i:163fb3be0b] were insane, those who lied about it, were true cowards; and those who controlled it were Warriors.

This mortal was displaying prowess in physique and in mind. Pushing itself into candidacy for a thought not yet sewn in the mind of the Gangrel, but one that would perhaps bear fruit.

Its journey brought it a burial ground; the home of the dead. Euryon perched himself adeptly on the cemetary wall, watching the human speak a monologue with some departed loved one. Euryon could smell the recent scent of other waken-dead; they did so love the cemetaries, but he doubted meeting one now.

The mortal stood and surveyed his quadrants; a survival trait, unknown to the Gangrel, probably learnt in Machiavellis prison-term, or perhaps from his youth; regardless, a notable tactic when rote. The Gangrel retreated a short way as the human left the grave-yard, continuing on its night.

There were still some hours left; hours to follow, and hours for a dying Vampire to survive. Euryon did not care for the fallen Cainite, if it survived, then it would present little trouble; if not, it deserved little more for being bested by cattle.