Emma leaned against the wall in the darkness, the only alerting anyone to her presence was the soft glowing ember of her cigarette. Not that she needed to smoke, but it was a comforting reminder of her former life, the life wherein a cigarette addiction could eventually cost one their life. It was more for affectation and comfort. As she tamped out the butt with the heel of her boot, a loud noise caught her attention, as she shrank back farther into the shadow.

The scene unfolding before her was one of many she had seen since arriving in the United States. A man leading a drunken, semi-conscious girl out into the alley for a quick rogering that she wouldn’t even remember. “Fucking juicebags,” she thought with faint contempt, “no self-respect whatsoever.” She watched the fumbling, drunken act with mild disdain, and then snickered when the man buckled up and left the girl slumped against the wall, with her panties still around her ankles. For a moment, Emma’s humanity almost gave cause for her to check on this pathetic mortal, but before she could act, two young men, wearing leather jackets and combat boots turned the far corner. She knew instinctively they were kindred, and watched warily.

The bigger of the two spied the girl, who was dazedly calling out “Vic? Vic?”. He grinned at his mate, and leaned into the girl, helping her to her feet. Emma knew they were up to no good, and as she kept her eye on the kindred, she saw his intent.

Acting quickly, she summoned the many rats that called the alleyway home, and commanded them to rush the scene. As they rushed the two men, she heard a scream from the girl ,and then the confused, almost scared babbling of the two kindred. Yes, they were young. As quickly as she had summoned the rats, she bade them to make a hasty retreat, and then stepped out of the shadows.

The two looked at her dumbfounded, and then began to walk toward her threateningly. At that moment, Emma, without thought, leaned into them, her eyes beastly and menacing. The two gave pause, realizing they were outmatched. Emma almost growled at them, “You stupid twats, whatever you think you were going to do would have surely been noticed. Don’t ever feed on the living that openly again, DO YOU UNDERSTAND?” Her voice was low, but pierced them through and through. They gave a perfunctory nod, and fast as that, were gone in a whisper.

It wasn’t that Emma gave a shit about the living, but she did value her anonymity among a species that thought supernatural was only for movies and telly. She moved toward her temporary charge, who was slowly coming back to her senses. She helped her up, asking “Are you alright luv?” The girl stared at her, seemingly in schock, and Emma realized she needed to help this poor thing forget about the horrors of this night. She led her into a dark recess of the alleyway, and with a cursory glance, began to feed. The vitae was musty, tasted of alcohol and anguish. Once Emma had her fill, and taken enough from the girl to erase her thoughts, she licked the wound closed, led her back to the alleyway, and sat her down. The girl was groggy and very complacement.

As Emma walked away from the alley, she flipped her cell phone and dialed 911. “911 may I help you?” “Yes, I am outside of The Last Resort Pub and there is a girl who I fear may have been assaulted.” “We’ll send a squad car right away. May I have your name?” Emma flipped the phone shut, and disappeared into the night. ‘Welcome to town’ she mused. Cascadia might be worth a look.

((sorry for the random use of a pub name..I don't know if it exists, and I haven't had the chance to read through every post to catch names of landmarks in the city. Feel free to drop a correction and I will make a note of it. Many thanks.))

((No need :) Fantastic intro btw!

As Emma continued walking through the night, she was glad she had at least one answer about this town of Cascadia. Obviously it was inhabited by kindred, and those two idiots were most certainly Brujah. So was this a Camarilla City? She had run across so many where the Camarilla was being torn asunder. Even her clan had withdrawn from the Circle in a lot of places. She, however, had been taught by her sire to respect the laws of the Camarilla, and the unrest she found in San Francisco, Los Angeles, and of course the final outcome that finally made her leave her beloved Las Vegas, angered her sense of pack loyalty. She paused for a moment, listening to the quiet of the city, and realized it was sunrise was a mere hour or two away. She knew her first obligation would be to find an Elysium, or a Court and ask permission to stay, but she didn’t think she would locate it, if it even existed, in such a short time. She decided to find a place for the day, and tomorrow she would fulfill her obligations to the city.

The best she could do was find a park, where she could meld into an older, more rundown section, with unattended foliage and crumbling cement walls. She didn’t especially appreciate this, as she preferred the comforts of a warm haven, but her little incident in the alleyway had taken up too much of her precious time. She’d wake up miserable and hacky, but hopefully she would find the center of this city. Before the center of the city found her, of course.

Cascadia was indeed a Camarilla town in the strictest sense of the term in recent nights. Once a bustling seaside that acting as a sister city to it's nearby cousin New Orleans, the 20th century had been anything but kind. Any perceptive Kindred of age arriving via the normal outskirts would certainly be able to identify several empty husks of defunct companies where the Kine druggies mingled with the Cascadian Thin Blood and Caitiffs.

Within the city proper however, a recent resurgence in big business brought about by several big name players (some Kindred, some not) had a fortuitous effect on the skyline, as great, neon laden skyscrapers stretched into the inky black sky. Below, in the ashen streets, the minions and underlings of these faceless tycoons fought proxy wars and struggled for scraps.

Beyond the financial district of course was the Rack, a series of ever changing clubs, bars, nightspots, and general free range area for hungry Cainites. It was here that no Clan could claim herd, but only feast with discretion upon the drunken, drug addled humans.

But at present, Emma found herself before a great expanse of a park. Lined with the ubiquitous black, steel gate it housed never ending series of hedge mazes, a wide lake loomed on all sides by weeping willow trees and underbrush, and a seeminly endless supply of shadows. It was titled simply enough 'Cascadia Park'.

The next evening, Emma stirred shortly after the sky had turned an inky black. She wasn’t accustomed to laying that long, and she attributed it the sense of jumpiness that was sputtering just under the surface. She was tired of running, of looking for somewhere where the past wouldn’t follow her, and she rose with a troubled look on her face. The park was deserted, as she knew it would be, and as she shook the earth from her clothing and hair, she collected her thoughts, quieted herself, and tried to feel any vibrations at all.

She wandered purposefully, back into the lights and motion of this new town. It seemed a sleepy little enclave, and wondered how it came to be inhabited by the Kindred. As she passed sections of the city in various states of disrepair, she found herself automatically walking toward what appeared to be the industrial part of town. As the skyscrapers came closer in her field of vision, she decided that if ever there was a place where the Kindred would hold court, it would be within this façade of big business. She wondered who ran the town, was it the Ventrue? The seeming wealth of the financial district would hint of it, even though all the concrete and risers offended her. The years of clan blood coursing through her decayed veins had given her an appreciation of the natural aesthetic of the earth.

Presently she sensed the strange vibrations of Kindred. She knew they were close, but she was having trouble locating the core of the feeling. She came out of the shadows that cloaked her on her walk toward this epicenter, and defied someone to find her.

Her blood was old enough to where she held little fear, but the anticipation muddled her senses a bit. She had been wandering for so long, and although part of her embraced the nomadic lifestyle she had been forced into, she wanted to find a home. She just hoped no one would be foolish enough to try to challenge her. Her sire had taught her well, and she didn’t want this to be a repeat of San Francisco.

She gave an empty prayer that the Kindred of Cascadia were more logical, and continued into the night.