Ethnic neighborhoods like this stick together. When the two haitian gangsters who were shot up by Nikki-no-Socks thugs halfway across town and left with a dead truck and bullets burning in their guts they called Preval.

Preval is far too buff for his job driving a cab in the slums. But its rare that anyone ditches a fare when this dreadlocked, body builder looking Haitian who refers to everyone as 'Crack-Ead' is behind the wheel.

Preval knows not to take either of these gangsters to the hospital. They have to see the boss first; then, maybe, they can go to the hospital. Preval takes them right to the circuit and pulls his cab right up on the curb yelling at the doormen.

'Ey man we gots some G-s bleedin on mah seats ere.'

Out front, the two large, though not so large as Preval, Haitians turn to look at one another briefly before the one with the bolts, nails and small animal bones, in his long dreadlocks sprints inside to alert Drexl while the other -one might say fat- bald man with huge porkchops runs to the cab to help haul the wounded men inside.

Preval is well known to most of the underbelly of the Haitian community, his passengers less so, but if he brought them here, there is reason for it.

The door to the warehouse still open from the first man coming in to alert his master, when the others come in dragging the wounded, it is obvious that Drexl was already aware of their arrival, as he emerges from the upstairs quarters and slowly slides down the stairs  at the far end of the huge room with unnatural grace before the bolt-head has even reached them, his eyes fixed upon the group of men entering.

Preval manhandles one of the skinny gangsters into the building easily. The gangsters are both shirtless, having used their clothing as makeshift bandages for their bullet wounds. They grunt in pain but both seem relatively stable for men who have been shot up.

'Pardon da intrusion, Boss.'

Preval will lower his head in respect to Drexler. He has heard the story from the two gangsters when they lamented in the back of his cab for a half an hour but he has no intention of getting any more involved han he has to.

The less wounded gangster speaks up. He is a skinny guy with a strange triple mohawk and lots of gold chains leans on something to keep from putting weight on his leg. He took a slug through the thigh and another is embedded somewhere in his hip. He will probably limp for the rest of his life but should survive.

'Boss, Me n Dag ere got swindled.'

Drexl will brush past his solitary dreadlocked ghoul and stop before the quartet, regarding Preval with interest, if not respect, he nods to the man in acknowledgment.

"None necessary. It would seem that your intrusion is warranted."

Quickly turning his attention to the blood-soaked man with the tri-hawk, his tone becomes an angry hiss.

"However, your bleeding on my furniture is not."

Turning his head over his shoulder, back to the tall man with the dreads, he orders. "Bring our guests something disposable to rest their weary bones upon." When the man returns quickly with a pair of egg crates, leaving them behind the two wounded men, Drexl continues.

"Now tell me. What has transpired? How were you swindled?"

'Dis Wop pizza-man came outa da house wit Llios sistah all bloodied up. We followin -im an his guys come runnin out n sprayed us down. Fuckin wrecked mah truck.'

The tri-hawked haitian sits on the egg crate as ordered. His friend is the one doing most of the bleeding and keeps quiet during the exchange.

Drexl will turn down the corners of his mouth as he considers the implications of Italian involvement. He does not know Llio, much less his sister, in truth he does not even know these two men very well. But in the grand scheme of things, they are 'family' and there are certain protocols one must adhere to, so Drexl is obliged to find out who would be impetuous enough -or worse, fearless enough- to gun down any Haitian in a town where Haitians have no reason to be, yet are prolific enough to have carved out an entire neighborhood for themselves.

His inability to simply use his magic to discover this information on his own seems to be unnerving him. Relying on secondhand information is not in his nature, less so on secondhand information which is dubious at best. Drexl launches into a flurry of questions, his tone becoming more stressed with each sentence.

"A pizza boy? An Italian pizza boy? What was he doing with the female? Describe him. Describe his compatriots. What did he drive? What did they wear? Where did this occur? These are the things I need to know. Be specific."

'Pizza-man. Ees Hat was too small for -is big Wop -ead. He was carryin da girl, shes a strippah- Boss. Real cute one at dat.'

Dag realizes his tri-hawked companion is getting off topic and speaks up in a pained voice.

'Da fuckahs was wearin hoods n bandannas boss, but they was carryin real spensive -ardware. Dey came outa de Seven-Leven on da Aikman drive. Da Wop was drivin a van, wasn- He?'

Dag looks up at the other Gangster who thinks a moment and nods.

'A van, yes. Ee was a real big fuckah for a pizza-man. Stealin Llios sistah an sayin she was -avin some kind of attack.'

Drexl looks the two men over as they fumble through answering his questions. The severely wounded on at least is trying, the fool with the tri-hawk is only trying Drexl's patience. Unfortunately, with this being the second such situation involving his people and the Italians in as many months, Drexl has little to spare. Especially when these mishaps seem to be perpetually coupled with incompetence.

*"Enough!"* The Setite seethes at the two men.

Drexl will take a step toward the babbling man with the ridiculous hair, reaching into the folds of his robes to withdraw a nearly two-foot long piece of bone carved into the shape of a slithering snake.

2009-01-24 15:26:10 Alhmanic Drexler rolls 10 dice to Skewer 10,1,5,2,4, 5,9,3,2,5, 3 (1 success)

2009-01-24 15:27:10 Alhmanic Drexler rolls 2 dice to Skewer Damage  10,9 (2 successes)

Without hesitation he plunges the tail of the ophidian weapon an inch deep into the sitting man's chest and draws his face in very close, his unearthly, mismatched eyes only a few inches from the other's.

*"You are of no use to me alive, are you?"* he snaps at the man in Kreole. *"Perhaps you would better serve your people as an offering to the gods."*

[That puts the trihawked Haitian at Crippled-5]

The tri-hawked gangsters eyes go wide when Drexl up and stabs him in the chest. Bullet wounds are one thing, watching a bone knife stick out of your chest cavity is a new terror and an ew kind of pain.

The man shakes and pleads with Drexl.

*'Please Boss, Have Mercy, the pain, I am stupid...'*

Dag will inch away from the stabbing perhaps fearing he is next. Preval holds his place and watches all this with marked interest. He has heard all the stories about Drexl and his voodoo temper but never seen them first hand.

[*Kreole]  

--Last edited by Radiation on 2009-01-28 08:16:48 --

*“Sniveling wretch! I have neither time nor tolerance for stupidity. I need soldiers who can think, who are loyal, and worthy of the gods’ favor. You possess none of these qualities. You do not deserve mercy.”*

2009-01-28 13:20:19 Drexl rolls 10 dice to Mercy 9,9,8,10,9, 6,2,10,4,6, 9,4 (9 successes)

2009-01-28 13:21:26 Drexl rolls 10 dice to Mercy Damage 4,1,1,4,10, 4,4,3,4,8 (failure)

Drexl moves to punch the dagger the rest of the way through the man’s chest, but the tip is firmly lodged in one of his ribs and will not budge. All that Drexl manages to do is grind the blade around painfully in the wound.

*”You will tell me what I need to know or I will tear your soul to pieces and find it myself.”*

[*Kreole]

2009-01-28 14:33:09 Haitian Thug rolls 2 dice to Intelligence (Diff 7) 1,6 (BOTCH x 1)

The tri-hawked thug falls back and does his best to keep Drexler from running him through. He has nothing intelligent to say and instead strings together words into incomprehensible sentences bouncing through all the languages he speaks making him sound like a broken record of a crowd of tourettes patients.

2009-01-28 14:33:56 Preval rolls 7 dice to Intelligence+ streetwise (Diff 7) 4,5,6,4,10, 5,8 (2 successes)

'Eey Boss. I picked em up over at the Seven-Levin on [street]. Thats the wop Nikki-no-socks turf. -Is boys always be hangin roun- dere.'

Preval speaks up. He really could care less what happens to the trihawked gangster. The guy didnt even pay his fare; but obvious connections are being missed and Preval would like to go home without witnissing a double homicide tonight if possible.  

The man’s stream of gibberish does nothing to lessen Drexl’s displeasure with him. As he nearly topples the crate to escape the bone dagger, Drexl makes up his mind that the man has nothing more to offer. At least not while he still draws breath.

2009-01-28 17:28:02Drexl rolls 10 dice to Fucking DIE already! 5,5,5,2,3, 2,5,5,5,6 (1 success)
2009-01-28 17:33:23Drexl rolls 2 dice to damage 6,1 (failure)

Once again his death is averted, this time it is the sound of Preval’s voice that distracts Drexl and draws his attention away from the stuttering buffoon. Suddenly reminded that there are other people in the room, and it is not just the Inquisitor and the accused, Drexl will straighten his back and let the blade fall to his side before he turns to face the brawny cabbie.

“Nikki? You don’t say. And can anyone tell me what reason he would have for deciding upon pursuing this blatant act of war?”

Preval shrugs his meaty shoulders and holds Drexlers eyes.

'I jus drive de cab boss.'

Dag, hoping to avoid the fate of his tri-hawked companion will pipe up almost sheepishly.

'Da wops shot out de tires boss. Dey was keepin us from followin da pizza-man. Ee musta been one-ah ders kidnappin da girl.'

Drexl regards the one called Preval calmly and with respect as he openly admits to having no knowledge of the situation. ‘Honesty, succinctness, and lack of fear; this one has potential’ he notes.

His gaze turns to Dag as he makes yet another attempt to fill in the blanks that Drexl cannot bear to leave unaccounted for. ‘While perhaps not intelligent, per se, this one at least is loyal and knows his place.’

At his core, Drexl is a showman. Whether showing off his champion at a street-fight, convincing a village that the gods speak through him, or torturing a confession from a witch hundreds of years ago, none of this has any meaning without the crowd. A reputation like Drexl’s does not come from brooding in his chambers and never being seen, it comes from displaying his power to a select few and letting them tell stories that become local legend. Tonight, he decides, these men are in for a show they’ll not soon forget.

He does not turn to ask the man with the trihawk for his insights, Drexl knows he has none. He does not even turn to look at the man until his arm is already halfway through its range of motion, swinging in an upward arc towards the man’s chin like an uppercut.

2009-01-28 18:39:42 Alhmanic Drechsler rolls 10 dice to Dex+Melee 6,2,9,2,7, 2,9,6,1,2 (4 successes)

2009-01-28 18:40:07 Alhmanic Drechsler rolls 5 dice to Damage 5,10,5,2,10 (2 successes)

The bone blade strikes the soft spot behind the chin and drives straight through, emerging from the top of the skull. Strangely, there is no blood, neither from the two wounds inflicted by the blade, nor on the blade itself when it is withdrawn and put away.
Turning to face the other two Drexl begins to shamelessly disrobe, removing every stitch of clothing on his body, save the sheath which holds the bone dagger.

As he tosses his silk, tiger-striped boxers into the pile of clothing at his feet, he speaks quite calmly to the two men.

“I thank you both for your efforts, and would have you know that you are in no danger of suffering his fate. However, I request that you not leave until I have finished with him, in case I have any further questions.”

With this, he turns and pulls the crate out from beneath the arched back of the corpse and begins removing his clothing…

This is one of those situations people dont expect. Even the calm and level Preval looks a bit off-put when Drexl strips, even moreso when he starts stripping the dead man he just stabbed in the head. Preval bites his tongue and stands his ground. You simply dont tell a man who stabs faces no; even if hes about to defile a corpse in front of you...

Dag seems much less thrilled. The dead man is after all one of his good friends. He looks from Drexl to Drexls dangling bits to Preval and back again with a look of shock and disgust. This has to be a joke... doesnt it?

2009-01-28 19:19:44 Alhmanic Drechsler rolls 10 dice to Int+Occ (Diff 7, used willpower) 9,4,9,1,2, 2,1,2,5,1 (1 success)***

Drexl does not waste time trying to convince these men that he is not about to rape this man’s corpse; the deception, after all, is the point. Everything with Drexl, is a test, and one could not orchestrate a better test of loyalty. Alhmanic Drexler, legendary and mighty Vodoun, is about to make himself more vulnerable than he has been in centuries. If anyone in the room wished to do him harm, now would be the time.

Once the dead man’s garments have been carefully removed, Drexl begins clothing himself with them; his underwear, pants, shoes, even jewelry and the bandages made from his shirt. It is a necessary symbolic gesture that is about to take ‘walking in another man’s shoes’ to a place few have ever dreamed of. When Drexl has dressed himself once more, he kneels at the corpse’s side and begins chanting in a language no one here would likely understand. This part is, in truth, unnecessary, but it makes for a better show to the uninitiated observers.

Several times, Drexl will reach out and pluck a hair from the man’s head and blow it from between his fingertips into the air between chants, raising his arms and face up to the heavens and back down to the floor again in prostration to the Loa, the names of which are likely the only part of his impromptu incantations that the other men recognize. He pauses a moment, staring into the wide open, dead eyes of the man on the floor before his hand strikes out like a serpent, latching on to the man’s face with a resounding slap and prying his mouth open.

Drexl will then lean over the naked corpse at a ninety degree angle as though he were about to administer CPR, drawing in a deep breath, closing his own mouth around the other’s and exhaling deeply enough to make the dead man’s chest fill like a balloon. The four men observing will see Drexl collapse, his entire body going limp, just as the dead man on the floor sighs loudly and his arms spring up to catch the Setite.

The man with the trihawk, still sporting multiple bullet and knife-wounds will then slowly rise, cradling the body of Drexl and carrying him to the couch.  Once his real body has been delicately set down, Drexl will look out through the naked, dead man’s eyes at Preval and Dag as he sifts through this body’s memories of the night’s events.

2009-01-28 20:36:42Alhmanic Drechsler rolls 9 dice to Int+Alert (Diff 7) 4,5,5,9,6, 9,8,2,2 (3 successes) [+1 Diff for memories not his own]

“It was a Suburban, not a van. A very large, black suburban. And the man you called ‘De-val,’ the stocky Italian pizza-boy, he was bald underneath his cap. I can see his face clearly.”

{*** The Diceroller somehow screwed this roll up. If you will notice, there were actually only two successes (the two 9s) and three 1s, which should have resulted in a botch if I had not hit the ‘Use Willpower’ button, which I did. However, the Diceroller failed to put the phrase ‘used willpower’ in the text after the descrïptors, but it also did not register the Botch (which it should have if I had not used the WP button). I would recommend that everyone manually count their successes to make sure this does not happen regularly.}

Both Preval and Dag jump multiple times at this display. Dag manages to get to his feet despite his wounds and retreats as much as he can manage with Drexlers men likely guarding the door again. He mumbles protective prayers and keeps his eyes on the floor when the dead mans eyes lock onto them...

Preval is visibly tense but maintains most of his composure. He untucks his shirt from his belt as if expecting to be attacked by the staring dead man and his eyes remain on it. Locked not to its eyes but to its chin. Preval will not look a dead man in the eyes if he can avoid it.

'De-Val.. yes.'

Dag stutters from the corner, confirming what Drexler obviously knows for himself.

The naked corpse stares at his own outstretched hand, moving the fingers and rotating the wrist as if fascinated by the feeling of his own skin.

"I cannot see the license plate of the suburban clearly in this one's memories."

Nodding slowly, as if verifying something to himself, he lets the hand fall back to his side.

"It is of little consequence. None may escape my grasp. Not even in death. I will find this De-Val."

Without warning, the man's eyes roll up into the back of his head and he lets out a long, rasping breath before slumping to the ground. Apparently the Theophidian has taken what he needed from him. A second later, Drexl will rise from the couch, turning to face his two visitors.

Though he doubts they will forget this night anytime soon, the showman must always wring every last bit of amazement from the crowd to ensure his fame.

2009-01-30 09:29:43 Alhmanic Drexler rolls 8 dice to Awe (Diff 7) 4,1,4,1,8, 8,5,8 (1 success) [Lowest WP is affected first, so I'm guessing only Dag is caught in the Awe]

In front of the couch is a large coffee table which is piled high with what appears to be several kilos of a various assortment of drugs, tall stacks of hundred dollar bills, and a large-caliber handgun. Drexl removes something from the table and walks toward Preval, still dressed in the dead man's clothes.

"A man in your line of work must know his way around this city rather well, must know a great many people."

The Setite briefly alters his trajectory as he walks around the corpse on the floor instead of over it.

"I would ask that you take Dag to see the Witch. You know of whom I speak, yes? She will be able to mend his body and get him back to his post more quickly and discreetly than any medical doctor."

He holds out a stack of bills from the table, easily a thousand dollars, likely more as he did not even bother to count it. Turning once more, he looks to the man on the floor, and then to Dag.

"Worry not for your friend, his trifles in this wretched life are at an end. With my aid he will soon be in Paradise, even if they would otherwise have turned him away.

'Sure -ting Boss.'

Preval wont be forgetting this encounter. He has seen voodoo before, but never anything so blatant and powerful. Drexler has become akin to a god in his eyes, even without the compulsion of his disciplines. Preval will tuck the bills onto his pocket without counting them. Even one of the bills would have made up for all his trouble tonight, he is not about to insult Drexls generosity.

Dag went from fleeing to cowering on his knees. The mix of fear and awe keeps him in this pose and he turns his eyes to the floor when Drexler speaks to him. He replies in a still shaking voice.

'Yes boss. T-man and his fam-lee will be grateful. You are a great man...'

Preval will wait for Drexlers dismissal before he will take Dag to the Witch.

Drexl will stifle a wicked grin aimed at the cowering dog, that he is so powerfully swayed this easily shows that he has potential for corruption.

But that can wait for another night.

Dag's mention of Mr. T's family was unnecessary, and might be taken as an attempt to incite some small pang of guilt. Drexl returns the gesture in spades.

"Indeed they will be grateful Dag. Perhaps more so after I have paid them a visit, no?"

Perhaps this will teach the simpleton not to bring up matters which have no bearing on business. Everyone has a family. Even Drexl.

Preval on the other hand, has proven himself to be quite astute, and may well be considered for more permanent employment.

"I thank you Preval, should you find yourself in need anything, do not hesitate to ask. Until then, may the Loa not hinder your path."