Deepwood Weald Blood Cult

It was a very small gathering, but small was fine. Small was good. Too many meant there were many mouths who would tell all about their little meetings and they would become... well, too hectic. Too chaotic. For now, the few that gathered were good enough. Individuals who all shared the same or at least similar kinks. Tuvaq had already proven himself, but the new pale woman was someone he didn't know too much about. One thing was for sure, he didn't like how she eyeballed Death for a moment. The boy was his, not hers. He'd have to keep an eye on her to make sure she didn't overstep that boundary.

We weren't supposed to, but I'll take it. He shrugged callously, unbothered by the sight brought to their meeting and well, it would be a shame to let it go to waste. It was going to die now regardless of what they did now. Did you want to take it out of its misery Tuvaq? Raising a brow to the dirty coated Youngman, Abaddon was curious to see what would come of it.

No, what I wanted was to just set up a meeting between freaks. Likeminds to find a place and individuals to feel comfortable around, it's only three of us for now, my brother over there is just my ward. With a tilt of his head, he motioned over to the sulking boy. Perhaps some introductions? I go by Abaddon, I am a vampire, I crave and need wolf blood to keep a level head. I like to think of it as a curse my father burned into me, and most likely all of his little spawns. This time he rose a brow to Death, curious to think what his kink would be later. What would make him a freak like the rest of Vengeance's brood? He was certain there was something.

It was just not obvious yet.