Who: Emery & Maskuk What: False encounters When: Monday night, Week 2 Where: The Deadlands; Crimson Sanctum then outside Rating: R? At least the beginning will have swearing & violence.
Emery didn't really like this market, but it did have a habit of providing some useful and interesting items for him, so every so often he made the trek into the Deadlands for a visit. As he navigated the market with his eyes open for anything of interest, he metaphorically kept his head down. There was no need to attract any unwanted attention. Sorcerors here were not unusual, but he was far outnumbered by worse entities. It helped that he had cast a glamour spell over himself. If anything did go down, people would be looking for a pale and gaunt looking man with short black hair in a brown trench coat. Not the best, but it wasn't Emery Wylde, as far as anyone else was concerned.
He made the rounds and found nothing that held enough mystique or purpose to him. It was all trinkets and things that would only cause more trouble than it helped. He was careful with the collection of items; he didn't want anything that could possibly bring the Tuatha or Angels to his door back in the Fallen City. Several of them were already not fond of him and his actions. Ah, such was the price to pay for pushing their definition of freedom.
The main way out of the market was in sight when Emery found himself suddenly being thrown to the side into a wall. He hissed in pain and faced his attacker, who turned out to be a very unhappy looking Vampire. Or at least he assumed it was a Vampire, considering the deathly white pallor and fangs being bared at him. Not good.
"Fool!" The enraged Vampire hissed through his teeth. "How dare you show your face here after what you've done!"
Hm. Emery came to the quick conclusion that his disguise had landed to close to home for this guy, and cursed himself silently for going for that gaunt look. "Look man," he said, holding both hands, palms up, in an attempt to not pose a threat. "Think you're talkin' to the wrong guy, here. I have no idea who the fuck you are."
The Vampire closed the distance between them in seconds, too fast for Emery to prepare for the painful strike across his face, snapping his head to the side. "Don't try to worm your way out of punishment, Henrik."
Emery kept his head to the side, eyes closed, inhaling and exhaling deeply to control himself. "You really are an idiot, aren't you?"
His attacker started at him for a moment, eyes wide with the disbelief of being insulted. Instead of making another retort or threat, he only lifted a hand for another strike. Emery glanced up in time to see the arm begin to swing towards him, though that was what he was expecting. He muttered a few words under his breath and snapped up straight, thrusting an arm out towards the Vampire. The magic made no noise going off, but the Vampire let out a surprised yell as he was thrown forcefully backwards into a merchant cart across the way. Shrieks of surprise from the crowd joined in the sound of scattering merchandise and breaking wood.
Emery used that moment of chaos to slip off and out of the Market, breaking into a full run once he was sure there was no one to bar his way. He was glad that happened where it did; if that happened in the Fallen City, he'd be spending another night in the Angels' prison for the disturbance. Probably in a cell right next to the Vampire.
He did not stop running until he found himself a nice little niche out of view from anyone that might be chasing after him in the streets. The mistaken identity faded away as he dismissed the glamour spell. No more was the gaunt man with short black hair. He stepped back into the street, intending to head immediately back to the Fallen City. All anyone would see now is a man with long dirty blonde hair and a black trench coat casually lighting a cigarette as if nothing in the world was wrong.