Dravach half walked into the bar, and half got pushed into it by the bustling crowds. Scowling, he pulled his cloak over his body as to conceal most of his body parts and pulled his frayed hood down over his eyes. He sat in a shady corner of the bar, right at the edge of the counter and ordered a small drink. He drunk so much recently, it must be affecting his health. However, the drink was like a pain killer for all his troubles and would no doubt be a pleasurable memory for him.

The beer was nice and bitter as it passed over his lips and onto his forked tongue. He gulped it all down and slammed the glass onto the counter signalling the bartender to give him a refill. The bartender frowned at him and rather reluctantly filled his glass, shaking his head as he did so. He glanced around the bar not recognising anybody before staring at his new glass of ale. He contemplated how he was going to bring about the news he had in store. He was planning on meeting one of the members of the Syndicate of Blades to feed them information about the future schemes. Even though he was reasonably loyal to the Children of chaos he was still a dodgy character and used this as his excuse. He believed that if anyone trusted him, they deserved what was coming to them and only thoughs who distrust him would benefit.

He waited patiently for the person he was meeting with to show up.

The message had been brief. So brief, in fact, as to almost make Garath disregard the strange note and take no stock in it. Yet something had caused Garath to reconsider and follow the note’s instructions, if cautiously.

‘Wilwarin Pub. Sunset. Two days after the midsummer’s festival. There is information to be given regarding your guild, and its questionable continuing existence. Be there.

-Dravach’

Golden orbs scanned, and rescanned the note in his hands, all past experiences screaming in his mind to tear it up and be on with his business. Still, something in the back of his thoughts told him to see this strange meeting through. It was a feeling that, despite the many years of life he had so far enjoyed, never steered him wrong. Now, as the tall and striking wolf stood outside the entrance of Lomedor’s most popular and prosperous in, it would be tested again. The wind drew in its deep resonating breath and let loose and eerie howl through the summer’s eve, its powerful breath tossing brown tendrils too and fro across the wolf’s face.
Garath had spent the centuries he had walked upon the land trying at every turn to stay away from human organizations. He was a wolf at heart, and found most human institutions strange and extremely discomforting. Yet, every so often, he would find his person deeply entrenched in one, despite his best efforts. This was one of those times. Long had existed a secret organization, one dedicated to balance and regulating the tides between what mortals would call ‘good’ and ‘evil’. Yet recently, this organization had surfaced under the front of a mercenary guild. Garath had long been a part of this secret organization, for he had served balance from since the time of his pup-hood. All wolves did, as it was only natural for them, as nature’s creatures, to understand the flow and ebb of things. Still, the wolf was discomforted as the organization surfaced, and Garath himself placed in the position of ‘Overseer’, the second in command. Garath had led people before, to this he was no stranger. But it did mean he was, in effect, ‘tied down’ as the humans called it; a feeling the wolf loathed.
The wolf took a deep breath to calm himself, ignoring the wind’s disturbing howl as stepped forward, pushing open the oak door. Garath was greeted with the all too familiar sight of drunk men, tired serving women, and a thick fog of smoke. With a quiet sigh, the wolf pressed through the crowds, ignoring the shouts of the drunken fools and the tired retorts of serving women who clearly wished they were someplace else, slowly making his way to the bar.
Upon reaching the bar, the wolf took stock in the man behind the counter. An older gentleman, the human seemed in his late forties, streaks of silver and white hair accenting the thick black mat atop his head. He had a kind, if stern face, one that spoke of times both merry and hard. Garath gently wrapped his hand upon the bar-top, gleaning the man’s attention.

“Where can I find Dravach. One has a meeting with him.”

Dravach twirled his thin finger around in his ale and rested his bony chin on his hand. He had been waiting for a long time now and had expected the 'overseer' of the guild to be eager in hearing what news he had to share. Clearly not. Several hours ago he had been waiting hopefully thinking that he would simply step in and step out slightly richer. He had planned on immigrating back to the Misty Forest. He enjoyed it there and planned on making his living just like he did in the old days by killing off passers by and stealing their possesions. He knew that as soon as he shared this information with the guild member he would be a wanted man, and would be hunted down like an animal. But Dravach was in need of money and was prepared for a little danger.

“Where can I find Dravach. One has a meeting with him.”

Dravach looked up on hearing his name and saw a young, brown haired man speaking with the bartender. He certainly matched the description he had been given but it could easily have been false information and this guy could easily be an imposter. He wanted evidance that he was truly talking to the second in command of the Syndicates of Blades.

"Over here." Dravach whispered in a slightly slurred voice. He tried not to move as he spoke so as to not attract any attention from members of the public. He eyed the man and said, "You're looking for Dravach? What guild do you belong to? He mentioned something about meeting with the Children of Chaos." He cast a glance left and right to see if they were being overheard. He had said the wrong guild on purpose, so as to mislead him if he was an imposter. He waited patiently for his reply.

A hushed “psst!” caught the wolf’s attention and he turned, regarding the new figure. The voice belonged to what appeared to be a generally human speaker, yet with deep sunken coal-black eyes that no human could have possessed, and skin like pale wax-paper. The wolf took in the creature’s scent, shifting through the other various smells of the bar and it’s occupants to discern what exactly this creature was. Vampire… The wolf was sure of it now.

"Over here." The voice was slightly slurred, hushed to so that only the wolf would hear. "You're looking for Dravach? What guild do you belong to? He mentioned something about meeting with the Children of Chaos." And with those words, the figure motioned for Garath to sit. The wolf looked the vampire over, his golden orbs meeting the other’s pitch black. He did indeed sit, but his motions were slow and cautious.

“Perhaps you have the wrong creature, vampire, for I am not of the Children of Chaos.” His eyes never left the other, ready to draw his weapon at the barest sign of trouble. “And if you are indeed Dravach, you would know that I am not of that guild…” This was a challenge of the clearest sort. Either the vampire was an imposter, and fighting would break out at any moment, or the creature would show his hand and admit his test.

The wolf’s mind raced, as he regarded a deeper meaning within the others’ words. The Children of Chaos were a very secret organization, much like the newly-formed Syndicate, and one bent upon bringing chaos to the land. Rumors had begun to circulate within the Syndicate and even in the streets that the Children wished to bring harm upon the Syndicate, for word had leaked that some of the Syndicate’s members were followers of Threnody, the Goddess of Balance.
Garath had dismissed these rumors among his guild-mates, telling them not to harp upon common street talk. Inwardly, however, these rumors brought him nights of worry and restless sleep. If indeed these rumors were found to be true, there would be bloodshed, and many members of the Syndicate would loose their lives…if the Syndicate survived at all.

Dravach smiled revealing cracked, yellow teeth streaked with black stains. He did not want to reveal his secret identity in public so easily, as his fellow members of the Children of Chaos already distrusted him. He leant ever nearer to Garath, and dragged his stool with him. “Look, I am Dravach and you are Garath Parradon of the Syndicate of Blades. Naturally my mind games are useless on one who is not a weak minded fool.” He muttered in his quiet and raspy voice.

The inn was full of shadows and this was what made him uneasy. They flicked back and forth across the many walls, and crept over the furniture and onto their occupiers. Candles flickered in their holders and dark clouds rolled through the sky in clear view from the windows. And the singing. There were three elven women performing an eerie song in such a beautiful way. Men watched them whilst attempting to drink their beverages and sloshing it over their chest, missing their mouth completely.

“I have some precious information for you which is both threatening for you and me. You must understand that I am risking my life to tell you this news, and that it will not be free. A small amount of gold will be required first.” He drummed his fingers on the table and then held his palm out flat, beckoning for money. He wanted to get this over with and escape the inn as soon as possible, and his eyes pleaded to Gareth’s as he signaled for him to pay up.

“Look, I am Dravach and you are Garath Parradon of the Syndicate of Blades. Naturally my mind games are useless on one who is not a weak minded fool.” The wolf’s mind relaxed a moment, seeing that this was indeed the one whom he was supposed to be meeting. He liked not the look of the vampire, but listened carefully as the other spoke.

“I have some precious information for you which is both threatening for you and me. You must understand that I am risking my life to tell you this news, and that it will not be free. A small amount of gold will be required first.”
While no motion was made to dictate it, the wolf found himself slightly surprised at these words. A world where so much revolved around little metal coins still confused him, and had been perhaps the thing most difficult to understand. Even now, he still found the concept confusing and strange. Without a word, the wolf reached down, unhooking a small bag of coins from his belt and placing them upon the table. The amount was no king’s ransom, but was certainly enough to accommodate the vampire.

The wolf’s eyes golden eyes met the Vampire’s own red as he awaited the information promised him. He was eager to leave this place, for it set his teeth on edge.

Dravach quickly snatched the small bag off of the table and dropped it onto his lap. Frantically, he untied the thin rope which kept the gold inside of the bag and felt around inside of it to check if there was any money inside. The cold metal stung his fragile fingers as he felt many different shapes and sizes of coins. This would be enough to buy him a decent means of transport away from this wretched village. He shoved the bag into one of his pockets on his dark black robes and then reached for his glass. He took a long deep swig before telling Garath the important message.

"There is going to be a war between the Children of Chaos and the Syndicates of Blades. Not just any war however, a blood thirsty combat where the Children of Chaos will attempt to completely destroy your young and fragile guild. The Syndicates, being a guild of Balance are natural enemies for creatures so full of Chaos. I myself am not up for a war, being in my old aged body and having such a tired mind. I come to bring you news of when they will strike and where, and I hope to tell you some of their battle plans. However those will also be of some... er... value. I will require further payment before revealing the facts."

Dravach wanted to milk this man out of as much money as possible before he finally left, and doing so could be tricky. He was obviously not a fool but on the other hand, this information would be of great importance for him. A shadow flicked past the bar and along the wall, and then dissappeared with the blink of an eye. Dravach was beginning to feel uneasy and wanted to get this meeting over with as soon as possible.

((OOC:Surprise! Permission has been given from Dravach/Dengar to kill Dravach.))

The shadow, unbeknownst to Dravach and Garath alike, was Tithdaeron himself. Dravach had been a long time away from the guild hall, and had not stopped or even sent any messages. Naturally, it was Tithdaeron's self appointed duty to find Dravach and resolve the problem. What problem it was exactly remained to be identified, until he saw what he had seen this night. Tithdaeron was his normal, cold, logical, rational self until he witnessed the betrayal at hand. He could no longer wait and watch as he saw Dravach take payment from the Syndicate of Blades' leader, and then inform him of the secret plans to wipe out the opposing guild.

Treachery and Betrayal was intolerable under the Children of Chaos' laws, and it was punishable only by death. Moving to a more acclimable place, Tithdaeron saw Dravach grow more weary and nervous as he noticed the flitting shadows about the bar. The telltale sign that Tithdaeron himself was there somewhere, inhabiting the shadows, watching. The fool should have run for his life the second he had seen it. He would pay dearly for his incompetence as well with a gruesome end.

Without warning nore toll, Tithdaeron quickly moved above Dravach as a shadow. Transforming into his physical body, he landed on the bar in front of Dravach and held out his hand to his face. Immediatly a fireball engulfed his head, blowing to peices right next to Garath and in front of everyone else in the bar. The fireball continued on and blew through the bar door and out into the street, catching random things on fire in its wake.

Dravach's body, aflame and spouting blood from the newly formed hole, flopped onto the ground lilfeless. Tithdaeron leaped onto the body, on all fours, fed by his insatiable bloodlust. With a loud roar that sent the tavern occupants scattering that hadnt already, he dres his scimitar, cut an incision in his chest, and ripped out his heart. Tithdaeron shoved it in his mouth, chewed, and swallowed, and then caught the rest of Dravach's body aflame with another fireball.

"Let this be a lesson to those who would betray us!" he shouted, and then stormed out the door and disapeared into the night.