you might take one more night

[fuckin_thirsty]

Who: Deacon Frost and others! Open log.
What: The aftermath of Mafaton's siege, and ensuing broke-dimension chaos.
Where: Mafaton.
When: Throughout the first week, necessarily at night unless you're tagging in in the undercity.
Notes: Various places to tag in! Either clearing out remaining Candlelighters, or helping defend or simply socialising in Gutters, hunting during the night time for both food and big-uglies to kill. Feel free to PM/plurk me if you have any questions or need some ideas, I'm good for thread-starting!
Warnings: Violence, NPC death, monster horrors.

It's a cliche, about vampires being territorial. This thought strikes Deacon as funny, because sometimes he fancies himself a little more sophisticated than the average vampire. Enlightened, if you will. But it's Baedal's fault for marking the neighbourhood of Mafaton so clearly on the map, for giving them something to possess in the first place.

Whatever. It's his town, now.

They probably should have given it up when night time fell for a second time since everything began, but maybe it needed to be cast by the power of the moonlight or some shit, fuck knows. Or maybe there's still the innately human logic of needing to do things under the cover of darkness, all of them hooded and moving swiftly to what might be considered an abandoned corner of Mafaton's borders. Marks are hastily drawn on the asphalt in crumbling chalk. Radio crackles, coordinates. The mage-- Deacon can't tell if she's here by choice or not, as she moves with them, her face pale with fear, but it doesn't really matter. The cluster spread out, pace like wary coyotes - some have guns, even. One has a crossbow. Others have steel pipes, wooden stakes, and probably anti-vampire trinkets that Deacon can't see from the vantage point he's taken from the end of the road. He can hear the chanting begin from here.

They cannot hear his footsteps, though, and no one thinks to catch the glint of folded steel from the sword he doesn't entirely need.

And Deacon never claimed to say that humans were the enemy. That's sort of like declaring war on venison, isn't it? The multi-legged, big toothed, multi-dimensional invaders seem as fascinated with Mafaton as they are with anywhere else. Sometimes they get into the undercity, slithering and scurrying and clawing through the tunnels where the nightwalkers hide from the sunlight. Gutters goes into lock-down, club turned safehouse, but it doesn't mean that certain monsters might not try to break in. During the pre-hours of dawn, the nightwalkers gather, sometimes bringing snacks to share, whether they're docile donors and familiars or screaming and kidnapped.

When night does come about, Deacon feeds on whatever warm-blooded humanoid is unfortunate and weak enough to cross his path, and runs with Ilde's advice: kill everything that doesn't belong here. Sometimes he works with employees, sometimes alone, sometimes with what almost counts as 'friends'. Things that are substantially bigger than him might get poked with a sword before left to bleed and die or survive as they might; others are taken down, hacked with steel or simply torn with steel-hard nails and a locking bite.

All in all, at least he has shit to do.