Ropewalking (April 18, around 10.30 PM)

[Kane Graas]

The exact shade of blue in Kane’s blood could be debated over, but Kane had been born in the streets. He knew the life in the streets inside out; the troubles and tragedies that took place and the little daily joys that kept reality from getting the better of you. He had only spent about a year in the streets of London before life gave him an out, but streets were streets everywhere. Kane knew how to dance the rope over the shadier side of life without loosing his balance.

But Blount, with all his born and bred gentlemanly manners and cold hatred of Flint, had made Kane curious and so he set out to find answers. As someone who knew the streets, he could go to more places and ask different questions than gentry or soldiers after all. He would keep his ears and eyes open and listen, although he’d be steering clear from risking the skin on his back to satiate his curiousity. Odd’s fish, with superstitions running rife among poor folk and sailors he’d probably be more likely to hear more stories of the London ‘vampire’. But who knew what he might learn during the evening.

Still Kane took care to be armed to the teeth for his venture – there was a dagger strapped to both of his ankles, one on the underside of both of his arms, two hidden under his sash and his long curved daggers with their black blades displayed openly at his waist. He also had enough common sense to leave his well cut quality clothes behind and, other than a blue wool shirt against his skin, dress in simple black linen. He had no desire to attract trouble.

He started at the place he knew. The docks. Sharing a joke with a pair of drunken sailors on his way, Kane dove into the underbelly of London. Simply a man looking for a place where to sate his thirst after a long day Kane reminded himself as he came upon an inn that looked dirty enough to suit his purpose. Stepping in, Kane took the room and it’s visitors in with a glance, keeping himself from looking anyone straight in the eyes to not spark any fights as he made his way towards the bar to get a drink.

[Blackguard]

The tavern was teeming with sailors and laborers, as one might expect on a Saturday night. The taverns in the docklands to the east would likely have already erupted into fighting by now, whereas the taverns on the south side of the river Thames might be slightly more docile. Neverthless, by the judge of the crowd in the tavern, it would not take much of a spark to see someone hurt that night.

There was yelling in the crowd about the lack of decent work, too many damnable Catholics about, lack of sanitation, and lack of decent enough ale. There were tall tales of gardeners bedding the ladies of the house, and even princesses. More than one sailor wanted to provide graphic details of what they would do to any princess they found alone in an alley, to the roaring approval of others.

The barkeep was a sturdy man, bald as an orb of state, and missing more than one tooth. He eyed Kane with the gaze given any stranger. "What can I do ya?"

[Kane Graas]

Things were quiet so far in here Kane judged after a stealthy glance – half-hidden by the shadow of his long eyelashes – around the tavern. Wouldn’t be that way for the entire evening for sure, but for now it afford Kane with a moment to judge the local crowd and make up his mind who he could approach. He could find an excuse to buy a drink to the fellow or fellows easily enough and then it was a simple matter already.

„Decent ale. A man’s got to drink,“ Kane ordered from the barkeep, who looked capable enough to restore order should a fight break out. Hearing a particularly descriptive tale spun about a princess, Kane smirked. It was hardly shocking for a man whose mother had bene a whore and who had spent the evenings of his childhood listening to such rowdy bragging. For the most part it was simply drunken bragging of men who did hard work throughout the day and were now looking for a way tol et out steam.

Hearing someone cursing Catholics, Kane’s eyes swung in the direction of the voice, figuring that was an easy enough topic to edge into. „Those bloody Catholics been causing trouble again?“ he asked from the barkeep – although others sitting near him at the bar could easily overhear the question – as Kane nodding in the general direction from where the curse had come from.

[Blackguard]

The request for ale was easily filled. A boy of perhaps 12 was behind the counter wiping mugs with a rag. He filled it from a keg and handed it to the barkeep, who placed it in front of Kane. It was a penny ale.

The bald barkeep gave a suspicious eye to Kane as he muttered about Catholics. It was not unheard of that Catholics would enter taverns pretending to be Anglicans, just so that they could spy upon honest Englishmen.

"Catholics are always causing trouble," came a growling voice beside Kane. The barkeep had held his tongue. It was not good for business to berate any type of person that might buy a tankard of ale from him. The person beside him was a wiry man with stringy black hair, frosted in grey. His face was weathered in a way that suggested either a hard life or a near death bout with some illness. He wore all black clothing. He looked to have downed several ales already. "Have been for a thousand years ... will for another thousand."

[Kane Graas]

Kane nodded his thanks for the ale even as he dropped the coin on the bar, well aware that the money would be better received than his gratitude. Maybe it was because Kane had grown used to quality wines and fine drink during his years as a merchant or maybe the wagging tongues had been right to complain about the lack of decent ale, but the drink didn’t really suit his taste. He drank it anyway though.

His unvoiced prayers were answered as the person next to him spoke up and Kane said a quick thank you to Lady Luck in his head as he turned to glance at his newest drinking partner. It was a good sign that there was grey in his hair. People who lived to be old in the streets were people who knew how to keep their eyes and ears open. Now Kane would just need to appear innocent enough and buy him enough drinks to see if he might learn something interesting from the man.

“T’is always the simple folk who suffer,” Kane agreed as he raised his tankard towards the stranger in a wordless toast, “Know a lass who ran into some trouble with the so-called god fearing catholics recently.” Turning his head, Kane dropped another coin to the counter, pushing it towards the barkeep: “A drink for my friend here.” Taking another deep drink from his tankard, Kane wiped his mouth on the back of his hand before nodding at the man: “Drink always goes down smoother with someone to drink together with.”

[Blackguard]

The man beside Kane seemed more somber than chatty. He almost seemed lost in thought. The comment about the simple folk and the girl he knew managed to draw only a nod of understanding. When Kane purchased another ale for the stranger, however, the man became more animated in gratitude. "Thanks. What's this about a girl? What sort of trouble?" It seemed that the man had decided that it was better to ask questions than drink silently.

[Kane Graas]

The ale Kane bought was accepted, which Kane took to be a good sign. It was a good excuse for further conversation. Settling in comfortably, Kane spared a glance at his drinking partner. “She’s a comely lass and the men were trying to appreciate her closer,” Kane explained at the man’s question. Admittedly the story lacked the flair it had had when Darlene had told him about being kidnapped by the French and then cornered by thugs, but this lacklustre version would do for this place.

“Folks are going crazy these days. Just the other day I was walking home from the tavern after a drink or two and the world was feeling a bit round under me feet, if you know what I mean. And out of nowhere this poncey fellow jumps out and threatens to shoot me thinking I’m someone else. He kept waxing about, can’t remember the name now. Mint? Print? Pint? Lint? Splint? Something like that,” Kane chattered on, although lord Mountjoy might not perhaps find this description of him flattering. Still Kane took care not to call Flint by his name. That would have been just asking to be gutted in some dark alley.

“And all that talk about the vampire. Folks going mad, I tell ya,” Kane carried on, shaking his head wryly and taking a sip of his drink again, wondering if he might get lucky and draw out some reaction or further conversation from the stranger. If not anything else, the man might have an opinion on the vampire.

[Blackguard]

The revelation about men gawking at a pretty girl, or threatening violence over a mistaken identity were not spectacular stories. They could happen with frequency. So, it might not surprise Kane that the man beside him did not seem too excited by the stories. In fact, he stifled a number of burps as Kane turned to him. Perhaps the ale was not agreeing with him. The man gave a weak smile and a nod.

The mention of vampires was of greater interest to him. The mug of ale in his hand was placed down on the countertop. "There is a vampire in London," he declared solemnly. "If not a vampire, then another beast from Hell. It hides by day and feeds by night. It is madness to ignore the signs."

[Kane Graas]

If his companion suppressed burps, then Kane suppressed a sigh. Well, it might have been a bit too much to hope to hit the jackpot at first try and learn something immediately. So Kane let the topic of Flint go for now and suppressed another sigh as the vampire was the thing that caught the man’s attention.

“I find it somewhat hard to believe a creature so foul might be running amok in London,” Kane stated honestly. Kane believed in a lot of things, but he couldn’t bring himself to fear a supposed vampire. You never quite knew the whole story, but the tales about the vampire seemed to be blown out of proportion. “Or maybe I don’t know the whole story. What signs do you mean or have you ran into the vampire yourself?” Kane invited the stranger to elaborate on the topic.

[Blackguard]

"I have seen its work, though I have not seen it in person yet," the man in black admitted. "Yet, I have seen the spawn of the Devil many times. I am the Reverend Able. I am a witch hunter."

"Demons are called forth by the unsuspecting," he advised Kane. "The are done for reasons of weakness ... an envious wish perhaps. Worded wrongly, a wish can call forth a creature of Satan, who will kill the summoner, and all like her. No doubt, the creature was summoned by a woman, for it has fed on nothing but women. No doubt, the wisher wanted immortality or a more beguiling smile, for the vampire has both. It lives forever and can bewitch someone who stares upon it. I have read of them. You must cut off the head of the beast, which is not easy -- the beast is strong. It drinks the blood of the living so that it might continue to live," he explained, as if it was scientific fact.

[Kane Graas]

“This specific spawn of the Devil or others?” Kane specified as he took another sip of his ale. A witch hunter. Not the type Kane usually cared to make friends with – they were far too ready to stab you with a stake first and ask questions after you had been burnt to a crisp – but this fellow seemed friendly. Or at least happy to have someone willing to listen to him, so presumably he had decided that Kane wasn’t a spawn of the Devil. “Pleasure to meet you reverend.”

“You have a hard job I believe,” Kane acknowledged the reverend as he raised his mug of ale towards him in a silent toast. Kane believed that it was just some lunatic slitting throats rather than a vampire, but chasing down non-existing creatures would surely be a hard job. So hard to prove you’ve actually done anything useful. Of course if the reverend actually caught and killed the lunatic on the killing spree, londoners would certainly be grateful.

“How does one go about tracking the creature? Is there a trick to it or does it have a… lair? Nest? Den? Never seen such spawns before so I’m not entirely sure what to call the place they roost in. If they even need rest. Or are you working together with the city watch? Heard a lifeguard had found a victim of the beast the other day, but the trail ran cold,” Kane urged the man to speak more. Kane didn’t truly believe, but he had always liked stories so he listened with genuine interest.

[Blackguard]

"It is hard work," Able admitted. "They are beasts with little purpose but to kill. They are not especially clever, relying on beastial instincts. They must hunt near where they sleep, lest they be seen traveling about town. They fear the light of day and hide from the sun. So, I search the darkest recesses of the alleys and cellars in the area by day and wander the alleys by night, seeing if a woman might lure the beast to my area," he explained.

"This one comes out only rarely, not every night. It seems quenched with a kill for something like a week before it ventures out again. That has been causing me to fret. But it is due to strike again tonight. I'm going soon. It will strike near midnight ... the Witching Hour. Yer free to come with me brother. It won't likely attack on the Sabbath, so this is its best chance. If I find it, I shall kill it and send its soul back to Hell where it spawned," he announced confidently as he downed the last of his ale.

"The Life Guard? Pah," he spit. "They know nothing of fighting minions of a witch's nightmare."

[Kane Graas]

Able spent his days in damp dark cellars. The vampire spent his days in damp dark cellars. Able wandered the alleys by night looking for his prey. The vampire wandered the alleys by night looking for his prey. Kane considered that. “You keep lousy hours,” he decided after a moment. Of course, it all depended on whether witch hunters got paid for overtime in this realm or the next one. Because, really, Kane wasn’t afraid of the dark. He could handle dark cellars and meeting girls in alley ways.

“What are the chances of actually running into the lunatic tonight?” Kane questioned curiously, glancing at Able with some paranoia and worry as he called him brother. Had daddy dearest really got around that much? No. No. Able was old, Kane soothed himself, shaking his head to dispel the alarming thought as he took a sip of the ale. “And there’s something to be said for the lifeguards. They could help hold down the vampire until he’s properly banished.”

“Come with you?” Kane cocked an ey-ebrow and considered the offer. Deadly dark London, a lunatic and a vampire - who might not be two separate beings - and an axe. “Why not?” Able seemed rather fit, but so was Kane. They were both most likely armed to the back teeth, but Kane was younger. “Not that I have much experience in vanquishing vampires, but I’ll try to stay out of your way." Would it be rude to ask if the man was wearing a cross - preferably made of silver - around his neck?

[Blackguard]

Only a lunatic would volunteer to accompany Reverend Able. The older man smiled a satisfied smile, displaying several missing teeth. Only a lunatic would be an effective fighter.

"Come, the time draws nigh. Brother Mathias will be waiting with the weapons. Tonight is to be dark. I feel that the hell spawn will strike tonight. When we walk outside, sniff the air and see if you do not feel something sinister in the air. It is a sure sign," the witch hunter advised.

"What is your name brother?" the man asked. "What weapons have you?" Already he was moving towards the door of the inn, expecting Kane to follow.

[Kane Graas]

“Brother Mathias?” Kane asked. That changed the equation quite a bit, especially if Brother Mathias would happen to be a hulking mountain of muscle – although such fellows tended to be somewhat slow in movements. But while a lot could be said about Kane, he was a man of his word. So he exhaled slowly and held his breath for five seconds, before nodding and standing.

“In this area of London? There’s always something sinister in the air,” Kane joked lightly as he slipped out into London night after Able, the rowdy sounds of the inn becoming a distant hum as the door closed behind him. “Have a cross hanging around your neck by any chance?” Kane questioned absently, squinting a bit as he waited for his eyes to get used to the darkness. He’d keep his eyes and ears open, but as much to be aware of Able's any movement as to keep a look out for the ‘vampire’.

“A couple of blades and some common sense, unlikely as that might seem right now,” Kane vaguely summarised his weapons. Dipping his fingers under his sash Kane shifted his black-bladed daggers a bit forward and nudged the hilts of the other two daggers he had hidden under his sash upwards so that he might grasp them easier, while leaving the knives strapped to all of his limbs where they were. He could get to them whenever he wanted to without much problems.

Kane wasn’t exactly sure how much Able had drank to steady his hand, but it might pay off to remember that the witch hunter had drank some. “Where are we headed then?”

[Blackguard]

The jest about the air in the darker areas of London seemed to be ignored. Maybe the man had no sense of humor. "You've still not told me your name friend," Able reminded him, wondering if there was a reason for the hesitancy. Then were outside the inn and walking towards the river.

"A cross does little good in the dark, though silver seems to be a subtance that dark spirits fear. I have a silver cross in my pocket. The name of God will cause them to go into convulsions sometimes," the old preacher advised.

"We are to take a ferry to the docklands. Mathias will be waiting there for us. We'll be where we want before midnight -- the burned out alleys of the East side." It was not far to the river and there were many ferrymen looking for passengers, so there was no wait.

Out upon the dark and foreboding waters of the Thames, Able asked, "how well do you know the East End area? Have you ever dealt with a witch or something unholy before>"

[Kane Graas]

"Didn't I?" Kane repeated absently. If their roles were reversed Kane would have been suspcious of someone who wouldn't introduce themselves. Yet the truth of the matter was that he had just forgotten. "I'm Kane. Kane Graas."

The existance of the cross was somewhat reassuring. Kane didn't think that it likely that a wannabe vampire would have a cross. Although it's existance surely didn't make him naively believe that Able was all sunshine and flowers. Kane was a paranoid bastard, but sometimes people really were out to get you.

The burned out alleys. It made sense actually. "It's been some time since I last was in London, but I should still remember a thing or two," Kane responded to Able's question. It had been more than a decade ago that he had haunted London's streets for barely a year. Kane closed his eyes to recall what he could from his past, although surely there had been some changes. There should still be similarities too though, people in East End didn't often have the money to renovate their houses or build new ones. "But I do know the docklands." As a merchant, his business did take him there from time to time after all.

"Never dealt with anything unholy, but you've told me a bit so far. God's name and severing heads. And common sense says that anything that lives - unholy or not - can die," Kane remarked, tilting his head back to enjoy the breeze as they crosssed the Thames; obviously at ease over water.

[Blackguard]

Kane's answer was satisfactory, it seemed, for the witch hunter merely grunted and nodded. The ride across the Thames was uneventful. The preacher seemed focused on the far side of the river as they approached the docklands and passed the ruins of the fire. It was almost as if he were staring into the heart of darkness, more ways than one. Occasionally, he would sniff the air as they got closer.

Once reaching the dock, Able paid the ferryman and moved towards the exit from the area. "Do you know a man by the name of Count Forensi by any chance?" Able asked casually. "He's said to be from Hungary and visiting Whitehall."

At the exit from the dock area, the duo were met by a large man that could have passed for a blacksmith. He was bald, probably in his early 40s, and he held a pitchfork as a weapon. "Mathias, we have a new hunter tonight. Kane Graas." Turning to Kane he continued "Mathias is a mute. A witch hexed his voice." The big man squinted at Kane in the darkness and then nodded.

A satchel was produced by the big man. Able approached it and withdrew a pistol. "Loaded with silver shot," he announced. It would join his saber as the witch hunter's preferred weaponry.

"Let us go gentlemen. There is a visitor from Hell that needs to be returned." With that, the witch hunter moved onward.

[Kane Graas]

Kane enjoyed the ferry ride. On one hand it had always been soothing for him to be over water; on the other he was internally amused by reverend Able as he played a human hound and kept sniffing the air. So Kane stepped onto the dock on the other side of the Thames in a good mood. “Count Forensi? No, can’t say I do.” The man shouldn’t be too hard to track down if he was visiting the English court, although he had odd recommendators. “Does he share your particular field of expertease?” Kane questioned curiously, for being a witch hunter sounded like a curious occupation for a count.

“Evening,” Kane greeted, taking in a quick measure of Mathias, feeling relieved as the big man nodded in his direction rather than attempted to run him through with his pitchfork. Kane was quiet as he observed Able arming himself. Pistols weren’t his own favourite weapons – probably because he was an awful shot – but they were kind of tricky to outrun. Oh well, Kane still planned to survive this night.

“Does this vampire have a favourite haunt we’re heading to?” Kane asked curiously, falling into step next to the left of Able. Kane was alert, his eyes and ears peeked for any threats coming from elsewhere on the street or from his companions. His left hand rose to rest on the hilt of one of his favoured black-bladed daggers.

“Have you been in London for long?” Kane asked, figuring it was worth a shot. After all, the vampire stories hadn’t appeared overnight and it was entirely likely Able – or Mathias – might have head something interesting during their nightly patrols. Besides they seemed to be in relative privacy right now, making it far safer to ask here than it had been in the tavern. “Have you perchance heard anything of a man named Flint? I’m rather curious as to gauge his character, and you seem like a good judge of character.”


OOC: Hope it's alright I presumed the witch hunter merely started moving at the end of your post where a sentence was left hanging

With that, the witch

[Blackguard]

Mathias acknowledged Kane's greeting but said nothing. He was allegedly a mute after all.

As they walked towards the burned area, Able was willing to talk. "I have not been in London long; but, long enough to gather information about the beast. This Count Forensi has been said to hunt the beast as well. He claims there was a similar beast in Hungary that he has followed. No one has seen him in at least a week. I'd like to meet him, though I've heard he practices the occult, so he'd be one to be careful around. He might be a warlock himself."

"The beast started in the center of the burn area and has been seen closer to the undamaged areas. He may be running out of victims, though many people have moved back and are in the midst of rebuilding. So, more to feed the beast. We need to be patroling the streets and looking for whores. He's attracted by whores. As I said, it must of been one that raised the beast in the first place." Able was disseminating information freely, thinking there was no need for secrecy with his latest recruit.

"Flint?" he repeated, to make sure he heard the name right. "There are some Flints in Nottingham that I know. I don't recall meeting one in London. Sorry," he grunted as his eyes tried to pierce the darkness ahead. Mathias pulled forth a lantern and lit it. Once lit, it was hung on the pitchfork so that the light would be held aloft.

The were entering the burned area and few people milled about on the streets. There were occasional sailors frequenting the few taverns that had been rebuilt. Each tavern had a harlot out front who looked about nervously into the darkness. There seemed to be few street walkers who braved the ruins.

[Kane Graas]

Noble witch hunters and fell beasts of hell. Hungary didn't sound very open for tourists. Perhaps it was the season. “Count Forensi you said? Perhaps I might ask around and see if he’s still in Whitehall,” Kane hummed. If the occasion rose he might ask after the count, but he wouldn’t make meeting the man his priority. He wasn't looking forward to getting caught in a feud between two witch hunters. “As I’m not an innocent young maiden, he shouldn’t be too interested in using me in any occult practices should he be involved in any,” Kane pointed out wryly.

Kane was somewhat disappointed he wouldn’t learn anything about Flint, but at the same time it might have been suspiciously easy otherwise. So other than a non-committal sound to show that he had heard, he turned his attention to the matter at the hand. Hell spawn hunting. He still thought it far more likely that it was just some lunatic rather an actual vampire; so Kane supposed that with a bit of common sense they might predict what the lunatic was more likely to do.

“I don’t have any experience with fell creatures, but people are nervous. And harlots never want to go far from the tavern from where they pick up their customers,” Kane mulled out loud, absently observing the harlot before the tavern they were passing. “So perhaps it’d be useful to check near the taverns, especially those that don't seem to have a harlot waiting at front. Look for alleys that lead to nowhere, as the vampire might trap its victim against a wall there.” Kane glanced at Able absently, wondering if he was following the logic of Kane’s trail of thoughts. Well, the man would speak up if something sounded reasonable.

“You mentioned that God’s name might send some beasts into convulsions so I presume they dislike churches as well?” Kane carried on. He thought that there were no higher - or lower - powers in play, but the lunatic might very well think that he was actually a vampire and act accordingly. “If that’s the case, then wouldn’t he try to find places as far as possible from any and all churches? Places where he couldn’t even catch sight of steeples over the roofs of other buildings?” Even in East End it would minimise the area to cover if they avoided churches or places from where one would have a clear view of them.

[Blackguard]

Perhaps it could be said that Hungary was too open to tourists, for it attracted an odd mix. A meeting with the Count would have to wait, it seemed.

Kane went on to expound upon his own theories of hellspawn, and where they might be found. The Reverend nodded his approval. At least his newest recruit had a good head on his shoulders. Now, how long would he keep it there?

"I agree it would stay away from consecrated ground. It would go where the victims are. Perhaps that might mean the taverns would draw it. Though my experience is that they prefer dark lonely places to kill. It adds to the terror, upon which they feed ... in addition to blood." The Reverend's face was grim as he strode slowly, pausing at each alley to gauge its depth. "Shall we try each alley, or go to the center of the ruins first? We need a method to cover every passageway. Last night I covered this east end. Maybe, tonight, we start at the most westerly burned area." He thought about asking Kane's view, but thought better of it, preferring to lead the way himself. Mathias followed mutely.

The night was getting darker as clouds shrouded the moon from view. It was nearly midnight. Soon the bells of the churches in the distance would be tolling the witching hour mournfully.

[Kane Graas]

Kane rather liked his head where it was. Actually he was rather pleased with his entire body and would prefer to keep all his bodyparts, no matter how big or small they might be. For that purpose it was rather calming to hear Able agree with his musings, because it meant that as long as kept his head – in both figurative and literal sense – he just might have a chance to survive tonight.

“Taverns make sense. Or maybe waiting for the time when someone starts making their way home dead drunk. It’s easier to overpower someone who’s drunk, although not all drunks are easily cowed. Presuming he hunts both men and women,” Kane mulled thoughtfully. Although far as he had heard the stories, the ‘vampire’ preyed mostly on women. For a moment Kane wondered why. Did women fight less or was their meat softer then men’s, just like veal tasted better than beef?

“Dark, lonely places. Sounds like a sociable fellow,” Kane muttered darkly, his fingers idly stroking the hilt of his dagger; the familiar roundness of it making him feel a little bit better. “Is there a specific time it likes to climb out to hunt? You said it started near the center of the burn; do you suspect it has a lair there and we might catch him coming out if we start in the center?” Kane asked curiously following Able towards the westerly area without arguement. The witch hunter knew better where to look for this ‘hell spawn’ after all.

Kane’s eyes flickered around as well as they moved. It had been years since he had lived on London streets for a short time and the fire had changed everything even more. Even so he liked to imagine that he recognised an alley ending with a sturdy stone wall there and could imagine the carpenter’s shop that had stood here. Of course he might just be thinking the place similar while looking at the ruins in the dark.

[Blackguard]

"He could hunt either," Able admitted reluctantly. It was possible, however, that women were targeted because they were both weaker and more succulent. "As I said, the demon attacks those that most resemble that which summoned it. If it killed harlots, it was likely because a harlot summoned it. It would prefer to kill harlots methinks."

As they walked, the witchhunter listened for the sounds of a female scream from an alley. The bells tolled twelve. "Now is the time," Able answered at last.

As if on cue, there was a sound of shouts and a struggle from the next alleyway. They were male voices, rather than female ones. Able turned to look at Kane, as if to query whether the man was up to investigating the fight. It might be a mere something unrelated to monsters.

[Kane Graas]

Kane couldn’t help the shudder running down his spine as the sounds of a fight carried over just as the bells tolled midnight. He still didn’t believe in vampires, but even so it was eerie. His long black daggers were in his hands before he even consciously thought about reaching for them, but their familiar weight against his palms was comforting.

“Just because you prefer to do something, doesn’t mean you always get to do it,” Kane muttered darkly, with experienced flick of his wrists and light touches of his fingertips twirling the knives in his hands twice, before letting them settle into an underhand grip. Kane was alert, but his eyes were calm as he met Able’s and gave a tiny nod. It was worth checking out. It was rather possible it was just a scuffle between two drunks, but there could be perks to befriending the looser by breaking up the fight as Kane well knew from personal experience. Of course sometimes there were also perks to not getting on the wrong side of the winner.

Kane crossed the distance to the entryway to the next alley with easy grace; not making more noise than absolutely necessary but valuing speed over stealth. The shouts and noises of the struggle would largely cover the sounds of their approach anyway. Reaching the alley Kane sidled in sideways, careful to keep his back against the wall as he narrowed his eyes to get a clear – or as clear as possible – picture of the fight.