[Official NPC]

Marshal Cael Oisín.

Once upon a time, he had taken great pride in that title. He had worked his whole life towards this goal, the goal of putting himself in a position where he could make a difference. Where he could protect the innocent.

Look what all that effort, and this inglorious position, got him.

Thick, calloused fingers brushed the cold metal frame surrounding his wife's picture where it had resided upon his desk for years - if not this particular desk in this particular office, then constantly with him through his entire career. They had married young, he impatient to begin their lives together and she so utterly in love she could not say no. He had abused that loyalty on more than one occasion, knowing that no matter how late he got home, how often he spent the night catching up on paperwork, she would always, always wait for him.

She was gone now. No more waiting.

And those vampires were to blame.

“Come in.”

The carven oak doors creaked open slowly. Oisín's second-in-command peered at him through the gap, refusing to enter.

"They're here, sir. If I may - "

“You may not.”

Brennig's mouth tightened but he didn't argue, merely stepping aside to make room for the Vampire Squad. His footsteps could be heard fading into the distance as Zolf entered, immediately followed by his men and holding up a tattered scroll. Cael knew immediately what was on it, and was not best pleased.

“What do you do with these things that you need replacements every five minutes?”

Zolf was equally displeased by the reprimand, but he had already lost one copy of the warrant during a skirmish with a pair of females who had been far more powerful than they had apparently appeared. They had also managed to evade capture, a fact that had been used by dissenters as "evidence" that Zolf's men were not up to the task. Cael was growing weary of their second-guessing, but more so of writing the warrant out by hand every time the foursome made a mistake.

"The citizens of Alexandria don't give a rat's ass how many times you have to scribble this out. I told you, quit faffin' around and give us some real power."

“I don't have the authority to circumvent the law, Mister Lundgren.”

"Doing a pretty fine job of it, I'd say." Vicente's voice was almost as intense as his stare. There was something odd about the man. He was too pale to be considered healthy and had a way of looking at Cael that made the hair prickle at the back of his neck. He was also utterly fearless when it came to saying what he was thinking.

“I assure you, Mister de Lellan, that this warrant -” Cael slapped the parchment on his desk, where he had already been in the process of writing out new copies. Lundgren seemed incapable of keeping his intact or even on his person. “- is entirely legal.”

Zolf snatched up the proffered writ, rolling it up to tuck into the inside of his jacket pocket. His skeletal hands made Cael want to flinch away, but he held his ground. He had the law on his side. What did he have to fear from men like these?

"We're never gonna catch 'em all, you know," Boris opined from the cabinet that held Cael's decanter, glasses and whisky supply. Rather than fire off the instinctive command for the Skotadi to step away from the bottle, Cael flexed his jaw in an effort to remain silent. The drunkard would only drink more if he thought it would annoy his boss.

“We do not need to "catch them all", merely enough to make it clear we mean business. Once it's obvious that Alexshire will no longer tolerate their predatory behaviour, they'll flee like the dogs they are.” He could tell none of them were convinced. The ones who listened, that was.

"Ever catch the one that did your lass in?"

Cael paused, returning Vicente's stare in equal measure. If he had answered right away, the grief would have been obvious in his voice. “No.”

"So then," came Zolf's reply as he made a circling motion with his hand, gesturing for his men to precede him from the office. "We do need to catch 'em all."