Alexander approached the pub with disdain.

It was a run down place. He wasn't even sure what it was called. The once cheery lettering, was now falling apart, hanging off the building like a macabre view of what to find inside. It reeked of vampires. 

Outside, there wasn't much activity. But then there wouldn't be. Areas with high concentrations of Vampires always tended to drive away everything else. Nothing much to the lay man, but helpful indications for someone like him. There was someone he needed to find. They wouldn't dare attack him here. He knew this place, even without the name, or knowing what it looked like.

Any supernatural creature would. An Otium. Neutral ground. Safe for people to relax. The rules were simple. No violence of any kind on the premises. Alexander wasn't quite sure how they would enforce this, but that wasn't his problem. He took a deep breath, held his head up high, and walked straight into the bar. 

Every single eye in the place was on him. Many of them vampire. They would know what he was, as soon as he'd cleared the door. The same as he had known what they were from a few hundred metres away. There was a small cluster of Supernatural creatures around the place, but the most notable, the one behind the bar. 

Nephillim. There weren't many left. Hunted to near extinction in the beginning of times, the only ones left, were the ones smart enough to strike up a deal for their continued existence. Hmm. He thought to himself. That would be how the crowd is controlled. He strolled straight up to the bar. Maybe this bartender would be helpful.

The Nephillim looked up at his approach with a simple smile. "You've got a lot of enemies in here Hunter."

Alexander's  eyebrows rose, "That going to be a problem?"

The bartender's gaze flicked down to the bottom of Alexander's collar, "Not at all."

Alexander checked his shirt. Dammit. Blood, leftover from the last, interrogation, he suspected. He shrugged, not much to do about it now. He perched on a bar stool, "Got beer?" The bartender slid across a frosty pint, accepting Alexander's change without a word. 

He stared down into his drink. Lost in his own thoughts. I'd always thought the Stones of Arachi were nothing but a myth. When he looked up again, the Nephillim was studying him. "Barkeep, what is your name?" 


"Aesan, would you know of any Old Ones in the area?"

Aesan darted glances around the room. No doubt the countless undead ears in the room would have heard this stupid Hunter's question. He gave Alexander a stoic expression, "I am neutral. I will not answer your questions."

Alexander looked him up and down, examining his poor appearance. For all the confidence this Aesan projected, his appearance did not show it. His clothes were tattered, dirty and in some places torn. His hair was slick with grease, looking as if he hadn't had a wash in a long time. An idea started to coalesce in his mind. 

He slapped a twenty on the bar before he could change his mind, and leaned into Aesan, dropping his voice as low as possible. "Take that as a gift. Meet me behind the bar in an hour, if you're interested in talking some more." He looked pointedly at the note, and walked off to claim a table, hoping Aesan would get the point. 


The End

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