As soon as Dorian's first sound left his lips, William was on his feet pointing one of the female's blades at him. He'd expected someone to find him eventually, although these men were below his expectations. He thought it rude to send someone who was not Uratha to get rid of him. He hadn't expected weaklings such as those in the alley to make pacts with other supernaturals, but he didn't believe they were stupid enough to send two humans either. He was curious.

"I'll admit that battle was not among my finer ones", he said with a bitter tone in his voice. "But what can I help you with, Mr. Grey?"

His voice was filled with a sarcastic etiquette. He thought this Grey-guy was a little too formal for the setting and occation.

Ghost
Longchester Hospital for the Insane
The specter fixed upon his face a gentle smile as he walked into Annabell’s room. Annabell smiled slightly as she saw him walk in. “Did you scare the good doctor away, Hiram?” she said without seeming bothered.

“Annabell, there’s something I’ve been meaning to discuss with you. I can take care of your nightmares, if you’ll let me, in fact there’s no need for unpleasant dreams at all.” Hiram’s words seemed to affect Annabell as her face turned from a smile into that of surprise and hope. Her face then turned back into the smile she had a little bit earlier. “I’ve heard that before you know,” she said with the same unbothered voice she used earlier, like if the news really did not affect her. “They all say that, before they die.”

---

Vampire
Ren Majere’s penthouse
Maxwell looked Ren in the eye. “Ask your men to put those away,” Ren said, and even though Maxwell knew that his men had those weapons ready for a reason, he was compelled to do as asked. He signaled his men to conceal their weapons while Ren signaled his own men to walk away. “So what brings you here? And.. do you want a drink?” Ren said while walking to his own bar. This somewhat humored Maxwell, seeing someone spending their money like an idiot on things that were of no importance.

“The Big Guy wanted me to check up on you,” Maxwell said, “and his little business in these parts. And you already know that I never drink what you offer me, Ren.” The last part he said smiling. The two had never been friends and rarely been anything except hostile with words towards each other. “We got word that there are some shady people heading this way,” he continued. “No official members of our enemies yet, though, but mercenaries and big names in the underworld. We had word that even Francis Cassidy was heading this way.” The name he said as if it had some sort of meaning, as well as it did. Cassidy was an eccentric gun-for-hire who would never turn down a job and usually got them all done. The only reason no one ever caught him was because he was never seen and his real name was not Cassidy, or Francis even for that matter. What Ren knew that Maxwell, or most people at all, did not know was that Francis Cassidy did not always hunt or work for mortals. The man knew more than he should, and while most creatures did not like it that way, many found it useful at times.

Maxwell looked around and signaled his thugs to stay at the door. He himself stood up and walked towards Ren’s bar counter. “The Boss wants you to be on your guard,” he said with a low voice. “If anything happens that could jeopardize our position here, he wants you to handle it appropriately.” That being said, Maxwell walked out of the penthouse, and his thugs followed.

---

Werewolf
Somewhere in the Fieldriver district
William threatened Dorian and his comrade with the newly acquired weapons, but neither Dorian nor the man behind him seemed at all threatened. "I'll admit that battle was not among my finer ones. But what can I help you with, Mr. Grey?" Dorian grinned but the expression seemed out of place. The grin had no emotion attached to it. It was simply there.

“Oh, you got me all wrong,” Dorian said, with a humble voice of a servant. “It is not you who are going to help me, it is I who am going to help you. See, I work for a very powerful person who has asked for your service. In return for your service, you will recieve our service.” Dorian did not walk very close to William, but stopped far enough for the bigger one to intervene if there would be a fight. “I am allowed to make you a deal, in return of your loyal service. In return of your service to us, I am to assist you in your current dilemma and you will be rewarded greatly once your service is no longer needed. Are you interested?”

William relaxed a little, although it didn't show on his exterior. He was still injured from his last battle, and had no clothes. He desperately needed to find a locus, but doing so on his own was dangerous. Also, there was Richard to take care of. Killing him had been William's priority-task for a few months now, and he couldn't afford to get sidetracked when he was so close. However, as much as he wanted to deny it, he needed assisstance. And there was also his usual curious nature...

"Please explain to me what kind of 'service' you're talking about, Mr. Grey." The sarcastic etiquette was still there. "I have something very important to do, and cannot take my mind off it for a second unless for something truly grand."

He'd stopped pointing the blade in Dorian's direction and let it hang loosely by his side. He kept his eye on the bodyguard, however, and was ready to bring up his blade on a moment's notice.

Ever had one of those nights when you just don't wana wake up? You get the distinct feeling that today will be a very bad day, that you will regret ever putting a foot out of bed. This was one of those nights.. Ren's eyes went wide open at the same moment as every other night but for the first time in a very long while he really wanted nothing more than to just close them again and sleep a couple of weeks away. But sadly, that was not a luxury he could allow himself. The last few weeks had been eventful, he had brought the local gangs under his heel without breaking a sweat. He was now working hard turning them from street rabble into respectable men of the trade. His force of more experienced men had never been as large and strong either after all the men he had gotten from London. Not only that but contractors where working on his home every day, working hard to reinforce his home from intrusion of any kind.

So why on earth did he feel like things would get really messy really soon? Why did he feel like he was walking towards the executioners block with every step he took?

"Get up, quit hiding from the shadows you see in every corner, get up, quit bitching and win the world.."

He virtually growled at himself as he rose up from his resting place and walked towards a big wardrobe in one end of the room. It was filled with clothes of every kind and fashion, being an Invictus he was allowed, or even expected to be slightly eccentric when it came to his dressing style. It took him more than half an hour to get dressed and ready, his body didn't sweat so he didn't really need to shower as often but he did non the less. In the end he walked out of the bedroom and into the VIP room of his club where two of his men stood.. Or rather sat guard. Although they did have the common sense to jump to their feet the very moment Ren walked into the room, the gesture of lazy and carelessness annoyed him greatly.

The club was slowly filling up beneath him even though the night had barely started yet, and despite the fact that it was a week day. Business was blooming, he was stronger than ever before, everything was going way to bloody smoothly.

"Now what shall this night bring i wonder.."

He said with a solemn voice

“Did you scare the good doctor away, Hiram?” Annabell enquired. The question was innocent enough, he reminded himself, for she could hardly help but have overheard at least part of the altercation outside, but something in her tone grated at him slightly- what could she have understood of Einhart’s intentions on calling on her at this unnatural hour?

As little as possible was the phantom’s hope, to his mind this was one of the great many things that a girl of her age had no business to understand. Putting the thought firmly from his mind, the spectre said his piece, flickering unsteadily as he hovered in the doorway, uncertain what her reaction might be.

“Annabell, there’s something I’ve been meaning to discuss with you. I can take care of your nightmares, if you’ll let me, in fact there’s no need for unpleasant dreams at all.”

An expression of obvious promise swept across Annabell’s face as he spoke, before a look almost of indifference set in, suggesting an unwillingness to believe an assurance she had doubtless heard many times before. Hiram was not altogether surprised to feel a flicker of genuine affection himself, some small fragment of the spectre’s fractured mind had already come to form some notion of the girl less as a patient and more as the fruition of that unspoken prayer for a son or daughter he had nurtured so many years ago. By what right should he have been denied a child, the splinter in his dead brain implored him, and the girl was surely as good a surrogate for the role as any other.

“I’ve heard that before you know,” she replied, in a tone suggesting reluctance to raise her hopes unduly, “they all say that, before they die.”

“I’m already dead, Annabell”, the spectre replied, an awkward smile creasing his face at her reminder of that unpleasant truth, “but I’m still offering you my help, if you’re willing to accept it.” The threat seemed a bizarre one, could she possibly be trying to intimidate him? Giving it no further mind, and wearying quickly of a conversation that was so rapidly sapping his energies, Hiram waited for her response.

OOC: Not my best post ever, I’ve been a bit rushed over the past week or so.
Might make a couple of edits tomorrow, if I have the time.

Yet another Ghost Speech roll being made.

Ghost
Longchester Hospital for the Insane
“I’m already dead, Annabell,” Hiram replied to Annabell’s warning, or perhaps it was a threat, “but I’m still offering you my help, if you’re willing to accept it.” Annabell smiled. She looked more at ease, knowing that Hiram would not be harmed for trying.

“OK,” she said with a smile on her face and a slight joy in her voice, “but how are you going to help me?” Her smiling face quickly turned into a big question mark. The only real method she was accustomed to was a long talk, something that she did not think was Hiram’s method of choice. So how exactly was he going to help her?

---

Vampire
Dark Nirvana club
Two weeks had passed since Maxwell had come to see Ren in his penthouse. He had contractors remodeling a part of his club at pretty much every hour, his business was blooming and regardless of how much money he spent he always had more to spend. Two weeks since he made a deal with a figure calling himself Dorian Grey, and not once had the cellphone he had gotten rang to tell him to keep his part of the bargain. But this night was somewhat different and Ren somehow had the feeling that something was about to happen.

He was not completely wrong. The cellphone that the Grey person had given him suddenly rang and a humble voice greeted him on the other side. “How do you like your end of the deal, baron Majere?” the voice said, the familiar voice of Dorian Grey. “It is time you did something to repay us. There is a package that we need you to look after and I will deliver this package to you personally.” Although Ren could not see him, he knew that Dorian was grinning. “Remember that this is not open for discussion. I expect a warm welcome within the hour.” Ren heard Dorian hanging up. Within the next sixty minutes, he would have to start doing his part of the deal.

---

Werewolf
Somewhere in the Fieldriver district
"Please explain to me what kind of 'service' you're talking about, Mr. Grey." William’s sarcastic voice was very obvious as he spoke. "I have something very important to do, and cannot take my mind off it for a second unless for something truly grand."
Dorian simply kept grinning his emotionless grin. “Oh, you can trust that our plans are truly grand,” he said, “and the only thing we ask of you is your loyal service when we call upon it. In return we will give you a taste of our reward which you keep until your service is no longer needed. Between the jobs we will ask of you, you can do what ever you want with your free time.” The sounds of sirens were getting closer. The police would be in the area within minutes. “Tell you what,” Dorian said as he looked around trying to spot a police car or two, “why won’t I give you some time to think about it? We will offer you a safe house where neither the police nor the rest of the... Holocaust was it?.. will find you. I was planning on meeting with him very soon anyway to talk about his contract. What do you say, William?”

Piers wasn’t sure about the reason for being here or the info that would be given. He trusted his mentor and his friend but they didn’t even seem sure about this. They said she was waiting who ever she was. Well he guessed he had no choice but to enter.

“Well lets find this info.”

With that he started into the Scarlet Hearts brothel.

“I’m already dead, Annabell, but I’m still offering you my help, if you’re willing to accept it.”
“Okay, but how are you going to help me?” Annabell replied, a smile spreading across her face as she spoke, but with an understandable note of curiosity in her voice. Hiram’s guess was that his patient expected another session of counselling, but the spectre had a better solution. “Once you go to sleep tonight,” the ghost responded, in a crisp, clinical tone, trying to ascertain that she could not misinterpret the proposition, “I will simply take away your dreams. I will replace them with something less unpleasant, probably a scene from my own lifetime, as that is what I will be able to detail the most easily.” Pausing to make sure that she understood, and wishing idly for the luxury of a cigarette to smoke as he continued, the dead psychologist went on, “I believe that you are having these nightmares for a reason, and we won’t be able to get to the bottom of that tonight. I can, however, offer you a few hours of uninterrupted sleep, without relying on drugs, to keep your strength up and help speed your recovery. Now, you don’t need to answer right away, and I will understand if you’d prefer to do without my help, but the offer stands if you want it. ”

Waiting for her reply, Hiram could hardly help but wonder what his medical colleagues would have made of the situation. He would simply be treating the symptoms of her disorder, that was true, but common hospital procedure would have dictated the same in simply prescribing sleeping pills- an option not presently available. In addition some sort of regular sleep pattern could only do her good, and might even go some way towards restoring sound mental health once she was no longer plagued by the macabre images her sketches depicted on a nightly basis. Moreover, though he would never consciously admit it, the phantom wanted to feel as though he was safeguarding something, could not credit that the pleasure it took from tormenting miscreants and chastising the living was reason enough to continue, without first seizing a moral high ground to justify its actions. Until now, abstract notions of medical responsibility and maintaining the hospital itself had seemed justification enough, and he had duly punished those who had become dangerously lax in their duties or whose actions brought the place damage or disrepute, but better by far to have a living, breathing patient to protect and release safe into the outside world. He would have done her no harm, the spectre reasoned, quite the contrary in fact, and in return he asked only the opportunity to tell a few chapters of his own story- nothing unpleasant, of course, just enough to give some indication of who he was and where he had come from. The fun of keeping animals like Einhart in line was, of course, purely incidental, as would be the eventual vindication of his own professional abilities over those of the imbeciles who had been content to simply shunt the poor girl from one institution to the next over the past ten years.

OOC: Ha, no more Ghost Speech rolls! Go exceptional successes or, um, playing a normal character.

Ghost
Longchester Hospital for the Insane
“Once you go to sleep tonight,” Hiram started but as soon as he did, Annabell started to panic. She did not want to sleep, she was too afraid of the nightmares to even think of it. She opened her mouth to protest but Hiram continued. “I will simply take away your dreams. I will replace them with something less unpleasant, probably a scene from my own lifetime, as that is what I will be able to detail the most easily. I believe that you are having these nightmares for a reason, and we won’t be able to get to the bottom of that tonight. I can, however, offer you a few hours of uninterrupted sleep, without relying on drugs, to keep your strength up and help speed your recovery. Now, you don’t need to answer right away, and I will understand if you’d prefer to do without my help, but the offer stands if you want it.”
Annabell seemed uncertain. Hiram could not tell if it was because she was afraid to go to sleep or if it was because she did not believe that he could take away her nightmares. She then seemed a bit scared. “A-Alright,” she said hesitating, “I think I-I can trust you. Let’s d-do it.”

She lied down on the bed and closed her eyes. Every now and then she opened up her eyes again, like if she was refusing to sleep. Finally though, she could no longer keep herself awake, and fell asleep.

((OOC: I already rolled for that Dream Thief Numen, and it succeeded so you can add it in your next post))

---

Mage
Scarlet Hearts
“Well lets find this info,” Piers said with confidence in his voice as Ryozo lead him inside. The Scarlet Hearts was not a very big place, nor was it very obvious from the outside. In fact, the only ones who conducted any business with the women of the Scarlet Hearts were those who already knew it was there. As soon as Piers walked in he could feel how the air around him changed. The air around him became somehow sexual, like it was meant to impose the feeling into the sleepers.

At every corner of the building, a woman would greet them and ask in their own word if Piers or Ryozo wanted to have a good time. All of them smiled at Piers, and also at Ryozo even though Piers would not notice it. The women were beautiful, there was no doubt about that, but they also had a sort of unnatural magnetism. Piers almost felt compelled to go in with any one of them. “We have no time for pleasure,” Ryozo said, “even the purest mortal finds his heart drawn to them, but we have no time to get sidetracked.”

Two floors above they found themselves standing outside a door at the end of one hallway. Ryozo did not knock, but the door opened after a moment regardless. Inside stood an old woman, frail and a lot like the ideal image of a grandmother. Without speaking, she showed them both in. Inside this room, the feeling that lingered for the rest of the house was gone, and the magnetism towards the women outside was forgotten.
The room was dark, with only faint red light shining poorly around the room. There were four chairs arranged around a small, circular table, and by one wall was a king-sized double bed decorated in red.
“Please, have a seat,” the woman said and signaled them towards the table where she had prepared tea. “This must be Legendarious. A handsome boy indeed, Ryuuchi dear.”
“Legendarious,” Ryozo started, emphasizing that he did not call him by his mortal name, “this is Baba Yaga. I met her thirty years ago when I traveled through Russia.”
“But you may call me granny, dear,” Baba Yaga said with a friendly smile.
“He will call you Baba Yaga, you old hag.” Ryozo’s voice seemed stern and unpleased. “You offered us help and we are accepting, but do not think we will get all friendly.”

Baba Yaga frowned. “Very well,” she said and poured tea into all the cups. “I believe that the dream is very significant, so I need you to relive it exactly. There may be things, subtle things, that hold important information.” She paused and drank her tea. “There is a minor spell that will help, but I will need you to sleep and enter the dream again. Relive it, not remember it.”

“Once you go to sleep tonight, I will simply take away your dreams. I will replace them with something less unpleasant, probably a scene from my own lifetime, as that is what I will be able to detail the most easily. I believe that you are having these nightmares for a reason, and we won’t be able to get to the bottom of that tonight. I can, however, offer you a few hours of uninterrupted sleep, without relying on drugs, to keep your strength up and help speed your recovery. Now, you don’t need to answer right away, and I will understand if you’d prefer to do without my help, but the offer stands if you want it.”
“A-Alright,” Annabell replied, hesitantly. “I think I-I can trust you. Let’s d-do it.” The prospect of sleep, and with it the danger of a return to the pattern of nightmares which had blighted the last decade of her life, obviously terrified her but the ghost, conversely, had every confidence in his abilities. She would sleep, a process of healing would begin, and, in the fullness of time, her recovery would offer ample proof to vindicate his superior professional abilities over those of Einhart and his colleagues.

Moving discretely to face the wall as his patient got into bed, Hiram found himself confronted with the snarling graphite and pastel face of the wolf she had drawn that morning. A shallow smile formed on the apparition’s face, unable to recall quite why the sketches had exercised such a macabre fascination upon him earlier. They would need to come down, he had long since decided, for the girl could hardly benefit from being near continuously confronted with the accumulation of her fears over the past months. If anything, it seemed remarkable that none of the present hospital staff had thought to remove the pictures themselves, though no doubt they cleaved to different standards of medical responsibility from his own. His expression soured slightly at the recollection of Einhart, scarcely able to help but wonder just how different those standards could be.

“One last suggestion,” the spectre informed his patient, turning away from the wall to face her, “it might be best if you didn’t mention me to anyone. Just tell them the truth, that you slept freely tonight without any unpleasant dreams. When the same thing happens tomorrow, and every night from now on, they’ll get the message soon enough.” It would be a cruel irony indeed, and one which had only just occurred to the phantom, if he were able to cure the girl’s illness only for her belief in his existence to be taken as evidence of continued mental instability and used as grounds to extend her imprisonment.

Seeing Annabell now safely in bed, Hiram floated a few steps closer, his feet, as before, trailing some distance above the floor. Halting a good three paces from his patient the dead psychologist paused as she settled down: there were standards to be observed, for his own reassurance if nothing else, and the fact that his form was less substantial even than the light from the fluorescent lamp on her bedside table was beside the point. Waiting patiently as she finally succumbed to exhaustion, the ghost selected a dream from his own memory to offer her sleeping mind. The gesture seemed strangely personal, in contrast to simply prescribing sedatives or some other drugs, the analogy he had drawn previously, and the phantom found itself strangely reluctant to share any detail of real meaning from its living existence.

***

It was the winter of 1915 and Hiram was walking with his Great-Uncle Joseph through the corn field to the south-west. Though the crops had long since been harvested patches of stubble remained here and there, stalks bristling upright in clusters, or lying in droves upon the black, frozen earth. The ground was unsteady underfoot and the old man puffed incessantly as his boots crunched their way through the icy mud, his breath forming clouds of condensation in the cold air. Tucked beneath his arm was a battered, well-polished wooden box, inside which the boy knew two shotguns were hidden, but though Hiram must have offered a dozen times or more to take the weight from him, his relative chuckled and refused until they finally reached the old farmhouse.

A clay-pigeon shoot had been organised, and maybe two dozen elderly farmers were gathered round, wrapped in thick overcoats, scarves and flat caps against the cold. The air was thick with the smokes of their pipes as they huddled together, talking idly of the weather, of church raffles, of sons and nephews at the front and how the Boche must crack, maybe not this Christmas, but surely before the next twelve months were done. Finally the shoot began, the young Hiram scarcely able to muzzle his eagerness to shoot a gun. Uncle Joseph took aim first as he watched impatiently, reminding the boy how it was done, raised his shotgun with a deafening bang and his great-nephew watched awestruck as the white dinner plate shattered in a thousand pieces at his feet. After what seemed an eternity it was his turn, Uncle Joseph tucking the butt firmly into his shoulder as he took position, reminding him to breath out as he squeezed the trigger shut. The brilliant white disk was released, soaring through the air overhead, and Hiram heard a second explosion, a haze of grey smoke clouding the air as he pulled the trigger. Jolted backwards by the gun’s recoil, his shoulder aching from the weapon's kick, the boy lowered the barrel, glancing around impatiently to see where the plate had landed. It was unbroken, finally coming to rest face down by a privet hedge. Loading another cartridge, Uncle Joseph handed him the second gun, reminded him again to aim slightly ahead of his target, to tuck the stock more closely into his shoulder. Another disk was released, shimmering as it sped through the early morning air. Again Hiram fired and this time he did not miss, a spray of hard, metal pellets catching the plate, splintering it into a shower of broken ceramic shards. Again he took aim, shattering the third plate with a lucky shot, and then it was the next man’s turn to shoot and he and Uncle Joseph returned to the back of the line.

OOC Edit: I've just reread this one, and the plan was that Hiram would provide her with at least 5-6 hours of filler dreams (as anything less would be a bit pointless), something I didn't make obvious in my post.

As I'm never going to be able to write that much text (and I doubt anyone would want to read it anyway) would it be okay to say either that it's just one of many memories of his early life that he includes in her dreams or to do some sort of time warp thing so the dream actually lasts that much longer in character?

William sighed. He didn't really have a choice. He wasn't about to take on a whole pack, let alone Richard, by his lonesome. Not as he was now. He gave a threatening glance to Dorian's bodyguard and then turned his gaze back to Dorian. His gaze was softer, seeing as he couldn't really afford pissing off his only 'ally' in this town, but there was still a threatening tone in his voice as he spoke.

"Very well, Mr. Grey. I will do as you ask as long as you keep your end of the bargain. Where do you want me to go?"

He desperately tried to hide the fact that he couldn't stop thinking about this 'he' Dorian mentioned. An unfortunate soul in a desperate situation like himself? Or simply someone power-hungry who wished a part in Dorian's apparent power? Whoever he was, William would have to stay on his guard

[Sorry for the time this took.. I was going to post this yesterday but internet went byebye >_<]

He took a deep breath, making sure he remained under perfect control. Of course the increased oxygen intake didn't have any real effects on him as it had done when he was mortal but old habits are hard to kick. A faint smile crawled over his deathly pale face as he walked towards a phone on the wall. He needed to have the VIP area closed off, he needed to tell them to expect the man, and he would need something nice for him to munch on. It would only be polite.

Ren felt surprisingly well, even though he knew he was probably about to get himself into a whole lot of trouble he felt strangely relieved. It was as if a huge weight had been removed from his chest. Having all this wealth without having to do anything to get it made him very uneasy. For the next thirty minutes he did his best to remain calm and comfortable as he went through the business he had to take care of every evening. It was amazing how much these mortals could f*** things up in a single turn of the sun. He always had to spend the first hour of his waking going through all the stupid s*** they had done and try his best to avoid major disasters.

This morning for example he got the news that a couple of his men had gotten a bit overexcited while collecting a debt in the other side of town. Apparently the bloody idiots had ended up killing the man AND his wife when they had been told to bring only the first warning. Resulting in Ren having to be on the phone for thirty minutes to make sure this wouldn't lead back to him and to make sure the fools wouldn't do anything irrecoverably stupid like wasting the precious air of evolutionarily higher beings such as roaches any more than they already had. He could tolerate failure, but stupidity deserved capital punishment.

You can't let such filth stay in the genepool.

Piers couldn’t help but wonder about the place now that his head was clear. He wondered about the women down stairs for one that they must do good business if they had drawn even him in while walking the halls. He wondered if it were some magic of some sort he more wanted to study it then to test it. He also wondered about the old woman Yabba Dabba if that was where they got the Yabba Dabba Doo from Flintstones. Bad joke since he knew that wasn’t her name but it broke the tension of his mind. He wondered that she lived here in this place and he wondered about the relationship between her and Ryozo. He also wondered where she got this tea from it was good and he would like some in the future. In seriousness Piers wondered why he hadn’t been brought here before there had to be a reason so Piers would have to remain cautious. His master had sort of hinted that not even he wanted to come here.

“Relive the dream there can’t be much I missed in remembering it. Don’t take it wrongly but I have trouble falling asleep in strange places. Also I am not into letting people I don’t know cast magic on me. I will need more info before I can consider it. This tea is great by the way.”

Ghost & Mage
Within a Dream
Baba Yaga smiled so that her old face stretched into two directions. “I understand why you don’t trust me,” she said with the smile on her face, “and I hope that you’ll understand why you shouldn’t. See, I have already cast my spell and it is already taking effect on you.” She was not lying. Piers could feel how he was slowly getting drowsy. “You don’t have to worry about a thing though,” she said as she continued. “The tea is only meant to keep you sleeping for a few hours. It has no harmful effect on you, Legendarious.” She looked at Ryozo who had not yet started drinking from his own tea. Piers felt his eyelids closing and the little dark that covered the room got darker and darker.
“I hope you’ll understand,” Ryozo said with a touch of shame in his voice, “if our suspicion has any truth in it, we may not have time to explain.”
“Just focus on your dream,” Baba Yaga said as Piers fell asleep.

***

The weather was beautiful. The grass was green, the sky was blue and everyone seemed so happy. Hiram’s memory was a beautiful one and Annabell enjoyed it. She was even smiling. But then she noticed it. Something was wrong. Just a moment ago, she saw everything through Hiram’s eyes, but now she saw Hiram through her own. And Hiram could see her. And things were changing. The sky was darkening, the wind was starting to blow and things were getting cold. The others did not seem to even notice. They kept firing their shotguns into the air to shatter old dishes.

HAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaa...
Hiram could hear how the wind carried the voice. It was an unearthly voice, nothing human could sound like this. In a distance, Hiram could see something move, something big and dark. Annabell could see it as well, and her smile had been pushed away by a terrifying fright.

“You are not to meddle in this business, phantom,” the unearthly voice said. Annabell fell down to her knees, paralyzed in fright.
“He... he’s... coming,” she whispered in fear.

***

Piers opened his eyes and not very far away, out in the open field in front of him, he could see a group of men firing from their shotguns into the air. He could see how the sky turned darker and the wind grew stronger.

He could hear a voice being carried by the wind. It was the same voice that he heard in his dream last night. The voice of the beast that ripped through him with his fangs and ripped the girl to shreds. This time, Piers was in greater control. At least he could move.

---

Vampire & Werewolf
Dark Nirvana club
Despite William’s threatening look and voice, the big man’s reaction was a simple growl and an angry face. Dorian simply grinned.
“Very good, sir,” he said with a humble voice, “but the safe house is not part of our deal.” He slightly turned and signaled with his arm that they should leave the alley.

A limousine was waiting for them and the big brute opened the door for William to enter. The car drove off, and Dorian offered drinks.
“You see,” he said with the same humble voice as before, “I do not like forcing a deal on anyone. This is a simple offer which you may refuse.” From his jacket he pulled a rolled up piece of parchment. The parchment seemed old and brownish. “By signing this contract you will effectively begin working for my superior. You will get benefits while under his employ as well as your reward once your work is finished and the contract has been fulfilled.”

The limo stopped outside the Dark Nirvana club, which both William and Dorian entered. Dorian’s brute and driver remained outside. A man welcomed them and showed them into the VIP area where Ren was waiting.
“Ah, baron Majere,” Dorian said as he offered his hand to be shaken. “I trust that your little preview of future benefits has been.. enjoyable.” Dorian sat down by Ren’s table, where Ren had ordered his caterers to bring something for them to eat.

“I do hope you will offer me some wine, baron,” Dorian said with his humble voice and grinning face. “This, baron Majere, is William, the package that you are to look after. This is not his prison, he is free to leave and return as he pleases.” From his jacket, Dorian pulled forth two pieces of parchment, both rolled up separately. “These are the two contracts,” he said, “one for each of you. These are not previews, these are the real deals. Acting against these contracts will have dire consequences. In return though, these contracts offer the real rewards. In return of your loyal service, you will be granted protection from my superior, a priceless artifact each, and will benefit from a certain bonus while employed by my superior.”

Gerald Tarrant

Anger boiled with in him like a pot of scorching hot lava in the middle of a volcano ready to errupt. But of course on the outside he looked as calm as always. Faces twisted with anger where so unsightly, and somehow a lot less threatening than the cold non caring stare he did his best to maintain. Not only did that bastard walk around his home like it was his and make Ren look inpolite with making it seem as if he had to ask for refreshments. No that much could be tolerated with a slight act of will. But bringing a big burly half-naked stinking ape with him as well.
He really had to try hard not to advert his eyes from the brute, he was NOT about to let them see how horribly uncomfortable this made him feel.

"Jonathan.. would you go and get my guest some 'proper' clothing... And be quick about it"

He ordered the big man closest to them who hurried out of the room. Ren allowed himself to wonder for a moment, where the hell the man would get plus sized clothing at this time of night. But he quickly brought his thoughts back in order and focused them on the matters at hand.

"An Artifact, protection and certain benefits..? I do hope your not forgetting the promise to help me rise above the rest of my kin here"

He said with his normal soft voice, someone who knew him well might notice that it was slightly shakier than normal as he reached out and picked up the parchment, unrolling it slowly between his fingers.

"I would also appreciate it if you gave me more details about this mister.."

He let the last word hang waiting for the brute to fill in the blank himself before continuing.

"Why am i housing him, what is his nature and what dangers will focus on me for staying around him.. And more importantly.. Is he allergic to soap or has it just been a long week?"

Ren said, perfectly serious although his words sounded almost like a jest, wrinkling his nose slighlty.