Private Vampire Politics

[Sycorax Laveaux]

Lamont, Necropolis​

No custom was more important to the Necropolitan than those rites related to the dead. People on other planets were whisked away as quickly as possible after death, to be burned and their ashes scattered. The Necropolitans buried their dead in the ground with great reverence. The manner in which someone was laid to rest mattered as much as how the person died, and the process was conducted with a pomp and circumstance unique to the tombworld.

As Sycorax walked the streets of Lamont, she passed by neon-lit windows advertising death masks, post-mortem photography, embalming services, and customized coffins. Sculptors and stonecutters offered their services in the carving of grand marble mausoleums. It was autumn, shortly after the Hallowe'en rush, but there were still a few lingering tourists. They stood bug-eyed and slack-jawed outside the storefronts, morbidly fascinated by what they perceived as a ghastly and uncomfortable display of familiarity with death. A few of the younger ones snapped selfies using the macabre signs as a backdrop. Mingling among them were people on a mission to immortalize their loved ones. They were always around, moving almost unnoticed beneath the leering gargoyles, often hooded or veiled in mourning, entering the shops with purpose.

Sycorax had hoped going for a walk would clear her head. But her thoughts remained troubled. It had been like this for several days now, while she tried to prepare herself for what was to come. She was due to attend a meeting tonight, one that had been months in the making. It was all a formality. They held it every year, but things never changed. And then there was Hapes. She didn't think much would come of it, but she also knew better than to underestimate Count Alicio Organa.

Turning a corner, she found herself walking alongside a funeral procession. The train of sleek black speeders moved slowly through the evening mist. Traffic had been halted to allow them to pass through unhindered. Whoever had died must've been somebody important. She followed their lead, searching for peace of mind.

Alicio Organa​

 

[Alicio Organa]

City Street, Lamont
Dahrtag
​

Agent Creighton Tull had been dead for some time.

Alicio had encountered him on Hapes. The apparent SIA operative inserted himself into a den of terrorists, deceived the Count who had breached after, killed the leader of the terrorist sect before he could talk, and made a mad dash into the crowded streets before Alicio could pursue.

Traditionally, all things that are rather difficult to do when one is deceased.

Alicio had gone back to the Hapan hideout with local authorities, helped with a real investigation, even tried to connect to the past via the Force. But without a good anchor, someone alive who had been there, Alicio's efforts came up short. All he knew what what he'd looked up on Tull. That he was supposed to be dead. And that he was from Dahrtag.

It was as good a place as any to begin his investigation.

So there he stood, on the sidewalk, his dark cloak and fine vestments, for once, not standing out from the local population, as he'd left the silvered plates of armor on his ship. To an outside observer, it would look like he were quietly observing the funeral procession, deep in thought. In truth, his senses were extended, both to the world around him, and to the Future ahead. Searching for answers. Searching for a lead.

He didn't trust the Force. Couldn't trust the Force, not like a Jedi. But if it nudged him in a direction, he would follow.

- Sycorax Laveaux -

 

[Sycorax Laveaux]

Alicio blended in with the Necropolitans a little too well. Sycorax walked past him without noticing who he was until a few moments later, when she slowed to a stop and suddenly whirled around to make sure she wasn’t mistaken.

“Senator Organa?” she asked, drawing just near enough to get a proper look at him. “Well, this is unexpected. What brings you to the City of the Dead?”

She already had some inkling as to why he was here, of course. There wasn’t much else that could bring him to the little tombworld. Unless his tastes for the dark and brooding went beyond his dress sense, that is.

Alicio Organa​

 

[Alicio Organa]

Alicio didn't turn to look at Sycorax, though a little knowing look descended upon his face, as if he'd ben expecting her for some time.

He known about her presence for only about five seconds before she arrived, of course, but that wasn't important.

“Well, this is unexpected. What brings you to the City of the Dead?”

"Searching for someone among the Dead," he responded coolly, hands finding each other within the folds of his cape. The odds of seeing the one person he knew from the planet was astronomically low. If that wasn't a nudge...

"Agent Creighton Tull." He said the words passively. Maybe she knew something.

- Sycorax Laveaux -

 

[Sycorax Laveaux]

“Hmm.” Sycorax looked to one side, as though trying to recall if she had heard the name before. There was no indication of nervousness or deception from her. It helped that she had already assumed Alicio or the SIA would chase after “Agent Tull”’s scent, and planned accordingly. “Sounds vaguely familiar. He is dead, isn’t he?”

She moved away from the road, walking a few steps over to stand in front of a shop. This one wasn’t death-related—it was a music store. The window behind her had a holographic display advertising various musical acts, showing them performing.

“I’d like to help, but you’ve caught me at a busy time, unfortunately.” She pursed her black-painted lips thoughtfully. “Tell you what. I’m due to attend a meeting soon with a rather troublesome group. We hold one every year, but nothing good ever comes of it. Perhaps we could benefit from an outsider’s perspective, especially an experienced diplomat such as yourself. If you come, I’ll see what I can find out about this Agent Creighton Tull.”

Alicio Organa​

 

[Alicio Organa]

"Indeed," the Count said, though his tone suggested his skepticism. He knew there was more to this story, even if he couldn't quite see it yet.

The fact that the name sounded familiar to the one person he knew from Dahrtag was... interesting. What were the odds?

Consider me nudged.

Alicio didn't follow as Sycorax widened the distance between them, though he did turn his body to face her. Her offer was met by a twisted lip. Would she only help him if he did something for her? Trading favors, as if they were in the back rooms of the Senate?

"Troublesome?"

- Sycorax Laveaux -

 

[Sycorax Laveaux]

"Troublesome?"

“Han Werdegast and his enforcers, mostly,” Sycorax answered. “He’s a vampire crime lord. Probably the most powerful one in this city. Years ago, during my first naïve year as Mayor of Lamont, I invited him to 'peace talks'. He came, he saw me, and figured I was just like all the rest. When I resisted bribery and manipulation, he tried to have me killed. We’ve been at each other’s throats ever since. He is cunning and brutal because he believes he must be in order to survive. And perhaps he is right on that account…”

Sycorax bowed her head slightly and averted her gaze, her brow furrowing. In the window behind her, a familiar face appeared. The late Kai Bamarri, painted in the ghostly light of the holo-projector, sang with the band Friendzoned At the Funeral. Archival footage was being used to promote a new posthumous album.

“Regardless, the conflict has become too personal for both of us," Sycorax continued. "An outsider perspective would be of great help. Unless you'd rather not put yourself in danger.”

Alicio Organa​

 

[Alicio Organa]

"A vampire crime lord." He said the words blandly, as he processed what those two words meant together. It meant...

Troublesome.

Alicio furrowed his brow. He'd just faced a vampire within a Sith library recently, and he could still remember the ache on his neck where the bloodsucker had bit him. And he'd been the bane of a few criminal factions before. He had some modicum of experience with both vampires and crime lords, and was eager not to let either leech the life from this world.

Alicio was brought into the present again as he noticed an even more familiar face, playing through the window of the music shop. Friendzoned at the Funeral had never been his favorite band, though he had enjoyed the album where his wife provided vocals, but now, it was nothing but painful to see. The Count grimaced.

“Regardless, the conflict has become too personal for both of us. An outsider perspective would be of great help. Unless you'd rather not put yourself in danger.”

"I see my reputation hasn't reached this far, Senator." Alicio couldn't work up any kind of a smile, especially not when he was staring at the face of a lost friend, but his features lightened somewhat. He knew a bait when he heard one, but he had to follow this thread where it led. "I'll do it. But let it be known that I have no patience for the posturing and games of criminals. So don't expect me to suffer either."

- Sycorax Laveaux -

 

[Sycorax Laveaux]

Sycorax smiled. “Nor do I, Your Excellency. At any rate, we will have armed guards with us if things go as they usually do.”

Was it bait? Sort of. She was genuinely interested in how he might deal with the issue she had never been able to solve, and there was really very little danger in it for him. He wouldn’t have to face the pains and loss she had at the hands of criminals like Werdegast.

But practicality and survival ultimately reigned supreme. Alicio would have the answers he sought by the end of the meeting, but perhaps the outcome would not be as he would like it.

The door to the music shop opened as a patron left, releasing a ghostly wisp of melody and lyric onto the street. “I need a summer, but it’s winter in my heart—” was all Sycorax could make out before the door closed again.

“Shall we go, then?” she asked, turning in the direction they would be heading. Down the street, where the city opened up into miles of cemeteries.

Alicio Organa​

 

[Alicio Organa]

Oddly enough, Alicio seemed less secure at the idea of an armed escort. He'd tried to avoid using guards as much as possible, not wanting people to give their lives to save his. Ever since Kai...

The faint sound of the Bamarri's voice escaped the music shop, and Alicio's face fell into melancholy for a moment, before leveling out once more. "Let's take a walk," he affirmed, passing his arm through his cape as he turned towards their destination, letting it whoosh behind him.

As they walked, and the quiet bustle of the city transitioned to rows and rows of headstones and mausoleums, Alicio looked sidelong at Sycorax. "So... survival. Is that Werdegast's motivation?" The more he knew about the vampire before this meeting, the better. Even if he knew it wouldn't be so simple.

The Count pressed a button on a small, thumb-sized device, which he surreptitiously stashed in a compartment under the synthskin of his robotic hand.

- Sycorax Laveaux -

 

[Sycorax Laveaux]

Sycorax remained oblivious to Alicio’s mourning, perhaps because she was so used to seeing grief-stricken faces on Necropolis. She did take a moment to admire his cape-swishing skills as they began their walk.

"So... survival. Is that Werdegast's motivation?"

“That is a charitable assessment.” She peered through the fog, reading the names and dates on the tombstones as they passed. “Werdegast must drink blood. He kills every night in order to survive, but his need doesn't exactly trump his victims' right to life.”

They reached the cemetery gate. Sycorax produced a key, inserting it into the rusty lock. “Like most career criminals, he is also motivated by greed and other vices. He exercises his power by exacting brutal revenge on those who have slighted him…” The lock clicked and the gates swung open, creaking loudly. “Whatever reservations they might have—and I doubt they have many, being bloodsuckers themselves—the vampires have chosen him as their representative. He represents success and prosperity in the face of their kind’s extinction.”

She stepped through the gate. This particular graveyard was overgrown, the markers sunken, the bodies interred within too ancient to have any living descendants that might care to visit. No civilians were likely to stumble in and risk getting caught in the crossfire.

“The fog is especially bad tonight,” Sycorax muttered. “Watch your step, and look for a mausoleum labeled Montague. That’s the meeting spot.”

Alicio Organa​

 

[Alicio Organa]

Alicio listened to Sycorax's evaluation with narrowed eyes, and a tensely drawn mouth. He didn't look where he walked, but each step was sure and unerring, as if he knew each footfall would support him.

Han Werdegast was the kind that believed the power to take, to kill, to do what he wanted, gave him the divine right to do so. It was a mindset Alicio knew well. It was a mindset Alicio despised.

"And... I assume the reason he isn't arrested is because he is integral to the balance of Lamont?" That was how these types usually clung to power. They convinced the Alliance they were indispensable. That the other options were far worse.

The Count seemed to stew in his own thoughts for a moment, before turning to his right. There, just within sight through the fog, was a blackstone tomb, choked by ivy, and ringed by columns. Most relevantly, gothic calligraphy was drawn into the capstone. Montague.

"They are already there," he breathed, as if he knew.

- Sycorax Laveaux -

 

[Sycorax Laveaux]

"And... I assume the reason he isn't arrested is because he is integral to the balance of Lamont?"

Her eyebrows rose. “Oh, he’s very well-liked among the people for providing them with various vices, and for his ‘generosity’. He’s been able to bribe most of the public servants into leaving him alone. It’s only the ones who don’t play along that get caught up in a war against him they can’t possibly win.” She was clearly speaking from personal experience, a pained, tired note in her otherwise blasé tone. “I used to think most people weren’t so… corruptible. He proved me wrong.”

Alicio was the one who found the mausoleum. At his ominous remark, Sycorax glanced over her shoulder at him. “Did the music give it away?” she asked. “Werdegast always listens to jazz before every meeting.”

A faint beat could be heard muffled within the blackstone walls. When she opened the door, the music spilled out into the cemetery. An ancient device known as a radio was somewhere inside, the old speakers distorting the rhythmic sounds it transmitted. As Sycorax and Alicio entered, pale, thin fingers closed around the dial, turning the volume down as the horn section gave one final wail.

The vestibule was packed with about a dozen people. They were divided roughly in half, each group standing across from each other. On one side there was a chair and a small table. The old art deco radio was on the table, and in the chair sat Han Werdegast. With his raven hair slicked back and his gray suit neatly pressed, he looked every inch the elegant aristocrat.

“Senator Laveaux,” he said, his voice containing faint traces of an accent. “You brought a friend.”

“I doubt he considers me a friend.” Sycorax glanced at Alicio, expecting him to introduce himself.

Alicio Organa​

 

[Alicio Organa]

"I understand." The corner of the Count's mouth turned up. Apparently, he'd enjoyed that answer.

Following the sounds of syncopated rhythm, Alicio and Sycorax entered the mausoleum. His mind immediately went into overdrive, cataloguing the locations of the gathered individuals, their body positions, their movements in the future. If he was nervous at all, the Senator didn't show it, instead displaying focus, curiosity.

“I doubt he considers me a friend.”

No. No he did not. Alicio's quiet voice filled the tomb. "My name is Alicio Organa. Count of House Organa, and Elected Senator of Alderaan." Han Werdegast seemed the type to respect titles. Respect power. "I am here at Senator Laveaux's benefit."

He allowed room ahead of him for the Senator to step up, if she so chose. He needed to see this gridlock for himself, to know how best to dismantle it.

- Sycorax Laveaux -

 

[Sycorax Laveaux]

"My name is Alicio Organa. Count of House Organa, and Elected Senator of Alderaan."

Werdegast’s eyebrows rose. “Really?” He smiled broadly, leaning forward against his cane. The handle was topped with a silver wolf’s head. “You know, I’m something of a Count myself. Or I was, back when Necropolis had a noble class. But that was a long, long time ago…”

He trailed off as Sycorax joined the group standing across from him and his vampiric enforcers. A more motley bunch of various aliens, they dressed for practicality and protection rather than style or elegance—and were noticeably well-armed. These were the guards she had mentioned earlier.

“What did she tell you?” Werdegast asked, his gaze flicking worriedly from Sycorax to Alicio. “Did she paint me as some bloodsucking monster, a relic from a more barbarous age?”

“Oh, no,” Sycorax said. “I simply told him the truth.”

Werdegast continued as if he hadn’t heard her. “I know she loves to call me a ‘serial killer’. As if I could get away with killing two or three people every single night. It’s a ridiculous fantasy of her demented mind.” He snorted derisively. “These people fancy themselves crusading vampire hunters, but there’s no difference between them and the average xenophobic bigot. You’ve dealt with these types before, haven’t you, Your Excellency? Groups of people advocating for genocide in the name of the common good?”

Virtually everyone had turned to stare at Alicio as he entered the tomb, their gazes filled with curiosity and suspicion. But one in particular stared for longer than the others. A middle-aged man with thinning gray hair and a face lined with deep creases, he looked rather ordinary and unassuming. Nothing like the Hapan mask he had worn when he shot Indra Djo. But that might not matter to someone who could perceive people through the Force. Lon knew that. His expression betrayed a dull acceptance of his fate.

Alicio Organa​

 

[Alicio Organa]

Alicio was still as a statue as he let Werdegast speak, not even a loose wind tossing his cloak. Han was quick to dial in on what he perceived to be Alicio's weaknesses. It told him the vampire knew, at least tangentially, of the Organa's reputation.

"She has painted you as a crimelord. One who kills to survive." He spoke frankly, without any hint of subtelty. He wanted to cut through the cute act immediately. As he'd told Senator Laveaux, Alicio wouldn't play any games today. Though, he did scan the other faces in the room. Was he the kind to lie, or boast in front of his underlings? "Is she incorrect?"

Of course, Alicio's eyes focused, curiously, on an interesting presence. An unfamiliar face holding a resigned guilt. Alicio simply observed, let nothing slip from his mask, even as he realized his search for a dead man was over. He turned back to Han Werdegast. Later.

The Count's mind brushed against Senator Laveaux's. <Project your thoughts, and I will hear. What is it you want from this meeting?> He had the tools to do a great deal. But what he wanted to do, might not be what was best for Dahrtag. So he left it to her.

- Sycorax Laveaux -

 

[Sycorax Laveaux]

"... Is she incorrect?"

Werdegast’s expression hardened briefly, before his face smoothed over again. But there remained a coldness to his gaze. “You speak of things which you do not fully understand. She brought you here for what? To make peace? This isn’t a game that can be won anymore.”

Sycorax twitched as Alicio’s mind brushed hers, her discomfort obvious. <Get out of my head,> was the only thought which projected cleanly, though there were others writhing beneath the surface.

She wanted Werdegast dead, and the whole scourge of vampires on her homeworld eradicated. The hatred burned deep inside, keeping her warm. But she was self-aware enough to know that her desires didn’t necessarily align with what was best for Dahrtag. If Werdegast died here, another would rise to take his place—one potentially far worse than old Han.

She didn’t expect anything from this meeting, and that meant she was open to any possibility. Whatever Alicio thought was right.

“If it is possible for our kind and yours to coexist without violence, we will not be the arbiters of that peace,” Werdegast said. “We’ve wounded each other too deeply. Does His Excellency know how you got your scars, Senator Laveaux?”

Distracted by Alicio’s telepathy, Sycorax said nothing. So Werdegast continued. “There was an incident in a club called the Solar Eclipse. She’d tell you it was self-defense, but this was a private establishment and they were trespassing. All the witnesses were gunned down, every vampire inside slaughtered. My daughter Luna was among the dead.

“I knew it was Sycorax. Her associates were seen leaving the club. I got the ringleader, the Wolfman, but I wanted her out of the way. I hired an assassin who planted a bomb in her hotel suite, to be detonated on her wedding night. Go out with a bang, I suppose, and blame it on terrorists.” His red lips parted, the tip of his tongue gingerly touching one of his fangs. “But she survived. Husband wasn’t so lucky. And that’s how it all began, this hideous game of ours. Neither one of us wants to stop, so it'll go on until one of us is dead...”

Lon stared straight ahead, while his hand began to inch ever so slightly toward the weapon holstered at his hip.

Alicio Organa​

 

[Alicio Organa]

"I speak of things I wish to understand," the Count countered, unperturbed by the vampire's shift in tone. "And this is no game to me."

Alicio hadn't had any reason to distrust Sycorax Laveaux until he touched her consciousness. She had been abrasive, yes, but came across as blunt. To the point. Honest. So it came as a surprise when he felt the writhing hatred under the crystalline covers of her mind. She hadn't let that slip. Not at all.

He glanced her way as she rebuffed him, a twitch of an eyebrow her only indication of response. Technically, he hadn't been in her mind, only observing from without... but she likely wouldn't care for semantics.

His own burning need for justice had been tempered by the ashy taste of Laveaux's emotion. He couldn't do what felt good. He had to do what was best.

He simply listened as Han spun his story. Tried to glean the truth of it. Sycorax didn't respond. And he seemed genuine. All of which gave Alicio pause. He didn't turn, but it was obvious he addressed his fellow senator. He needed confirmation. The Count's voice lightened, with caution. With care. "Is he incorrect, Laveaux?"

If he were standing before Amani's killer... he would not be so calm.

Alicio's hands disappeared into his cloak, and he sent a pointed look at 'Tull'. He was ready to leap to... someone's... defense. Sycorax's, his own... or even Han's.

- Sycorax Laveaux -

 

[Sycorax Laveaux]

“All power is a game.” Clutching his cane a little tighter, Werdegast rubbed his thumb over the silver wolf’s bared teeth, watching Sycorax.

She had tightened up as he spoke, her fingers curling. Now she forced herself to appear relaxed. If she’d had a chair, she would’ve reclined in it. Instead, she let her hands rest at her sides and held her head level—though in the end, the whole effect was more eerily still than casual, like a posed mannequin or a wax figure.

"Is he incorrect, Laveaux?"

The care in his voice dragged across her nerves, threatening to soften her. “No,” she replied, looking over at Alicio. “He’s telling the truth. Mostly.”

“I didn’t have much time with Victor, and it was many years ago, so you’ll understand if I’m not reduced to a hysterical wreck at the mere mention of his murder.” But there was certainly pain in her for what she had lost, and a deep yearning for what might have been. She turned to Werdegast, who couldn’t help but be cruel. “As for the Wolfman, thank you for reminding me of him. I had forgotten his real name was Creighton Tull—”

The metal-and-leather whip of a weapon being drawn from its holster drew all eyes to Lon. He now pointed a disruptor pistol at Werdegast. The vampire’s enforcers drew their weapons, and Sycorax’s security followed suit, until everyone was pointing a gun or a sharp object at someone else.

Sycorax’s eyebrows rose. This wasn’t part of the plan.

Alicio Organa​

 

[Alicio Organa]

As Senator Laveaux spoke about past events, the glimmer of the Future seemed to catch his eye. But he kept his chin down, staring ahead, giving the widowed bride his full attention, even if his eyes didn't find her.

"I had forgotten his real name was Creighton Tull—”

Alicio didn't flinch as the room suddenly got a lot more dangerous. Instead he let a beat pass, let everyone realize the gravity of the situation, before taking a fearless step forward. Towards Creighton, inviting him to point his blaster at the Count. "There is a way we all survive this," he murmured, grey irises flashing with a dozen futures, even as his hands remained obscured by his cloak. "It begins with you, lowering your blaster."

He sensed the man's fear, distinct from the sudden taste of rotten flowers around them all. But there was none coming from Alicio Organa. He radiated calm, cool, collectedness.

"I can help you."

- Sycorax Laveaux -