Fourth night. Part 1.

Alexander Kane is disturbed in his sleep during daytime. Blood follows - and flows.

We have to settle a few things before starting the fourth night.

1. We'll continue using Mythic. I enjoyed it.

2. I'll try to introduce a hunger die with the challenge dice - if the hunger die score is less than hunger, the Kane's inner beast will manifest someway.

3. We'll spend some exp. I'll spend 2 points to advance in his "Sixth Sense" power.

We'll also need to roll the "Rest" move, as usual: 2, 4. Strong hit. +2 focus.

Now, for the troubling part - I think we have to possible things that could happen during the day. The first thing is a visit from Lina: she doesn't know that Kane is a vampire, but let him rest in Opium's basement during the day. She may come pay him a visit for some reason. The other thing is a visit from STAKE - if they were at the Opium last night, they may have seen Kane there and know that he is in the basement. I'll ask the Fate chart both these things as "likely".
Question: does Lina visit Kane during the day? 77. No.
Question: and the hunters? 21. They do. Kane usually wakes up at 7pm, and the sun came up at 6am. That gives us a roughly 12 hour period. Let's roll a d12 to see at what time did the hunters came. We got a 5, so... 11am. Terrible time for us. How many hunters? Let's roll a d4. 2. At least they are overconfident.
Question: is one of them Angel, the leader? 50/50. 8. Extreme yes. Angel is there all right, and they are armed and prepared for a vampire: stakes, wooden spears, crossbows.

Ok. Alexander Kane is sleeping behind some boxes in the basement of the Opium Nightclub. It's somewhere around midday, when two hunters, one of them being Angel Jackson, the leader of SPIKE, enter the basement looking for him. We'll roll to see if Kane awakes, but before we do that, let's ask Chat GPT to set the scene.

Interlude. Tuesday. 11h30am. Basement of the Opium Nightclub. Waterfront District.
The basement of the Opium Nightclub was a black void, where the darkness pressed against the skin and the walls seemed to close in. The air was heavy with the smell of damp stone and the faint tang of rust. Time meant nothing here; only the faint echoes of life from above betrayed the hours ticking by.

Behind a barricade of forgotten crates, Alexander Kane lay in torpor. His form was perfectly still, blending into the shadows, as lifeless as the discarded relics around him. Only the faintest hum of his undead presence lingered in the suffocating dark.

The basement door creaked open with agonizing slowness, the sound reverberating through the hollow chamber like a scream. Two beams of light pierced the blackness, their harsh edges casting long, jagged shadows across the cluttered space. The flashlight beams cut through the dark, falling on walls streaked with mold and crates piled high with forgotten debris.

Angel Jackson led the way, his tall frame silhouetted against the doorway. The leather of his coat creaked softly as he moved, his steps deliberate, boots grinding against the concrete floor. His flashlight beam swept the room with clinical precision, each movement of his hand measured. Behind him, his young partner struggled to keep up, the glow of his flashlight jittering slightly in comparison to Angel’s steady, practiced movements.

“Too much dust in the air,” Angel murmured, his voice low and commanding, like gravel rolled across steel. “Someone’s been moving around down here.”

His partner, a wiry man clutching a crossbow, cast a nervous glance around the room. “What if he’s awake?” His voice cracked slightly, betraying his inexperience.

“He’s not,” Angel said flatly, the beam of his flashlight pausing on the scuffed edge of a boot poking out from behind the crates. He smirked. “But he will be soon if we don’t handle this fast.”

He motioned for his partner to circle wide, angling his flashlight to keep the crates in sight. The younger man nodded, his steps hesitant, the tip of his crossbow trembling slightly as he moved.

Angel approached the makeshift barricade, his fingers brushing the stake holstered at his side. “Twelve hours of daylight,” he said, more to himself than his companion. “Plenty of time to do this clean.”

The flashlight beams converged on the crates, revealing the faint outline of Kane’s body, nestled in the shadows like a predator in hiding. Angel’s lips curled into a grim smile.

“Let’s wake the dead.”

We'll make the "Enter the Fray" move to see if Kane awakes. The movement asks us to give the combat a rank. I'd consider it "Formidable", because Angel probably is very tough, but since daylight weakens Kane, I'll consider it extreme. It will be very, very hard.

Let's roll. 7 vs 3, 2, 2. It's a strong hit. We're awake and in control.

Alexander awakes but doesn't move. He hears the hunters. There are two of them.
I'll activate Sixth Sense. It's a weak hit. It's active. I know where they are and who is the weakest. +1 to the next roll.
I'll activate Agility and send blood pumping through my body. I gotta finish this fast, and move quick to close the distance between me and the younger hunter at the door before dealing with the one closest to me. I'll spend 1 blood. +1 to the roll.
Now I'll roll "Clash" for my attack. It's vs Dex (6) + 1 (Agility) + 1 (Sixth Sense). I'll use the Cutthroat asset and chose to deal +2 harm on a hit. Let's roll - 2, 10, 3. I'll inflict harm, but there's a setback.

Kane manages to unsheath his katana and, like the wind, jumps through the boxes, darting through the basement towards the guy at the door - but he's slower than usual, thanks to the sun. He cuts the young hunter down with a single hit - but not before being struck with a crossbow bolt on his knee. Kane won't be able to use "agility" to move fast during the rest of the fight.
Angel sees his pupil dying, blood painting the air, the crossbow falling to the floor, and runs toward Kane.
Kane will stomp the dead hunter's flashlight and try to secure an advantage by striking Angel's cap and breaking his headlight. Roll vs 6. 10, 6. It'd be a miss, but I'll burn focus to make it a weak hit. +1 on my next roll.
Angel tries to spear Kane, but Kane parries it with his sword and cuts high, striking right at the headlight, breaking it. They're in the darkness now, and Kane feels at home, feeling Angel's presence through his sixth sense. To reflect this, I'll downgrade the progress track back to "formidable".

Angel is angry, and tries striking where he thinks Kane is. I'll roll Clash, as Kane tries moving behind Angel and striking. 8, 10, 2. It's a "hungry miss", cause my hunger is at two. The smell of the blood from the other guy distracts Kane just enough that he's hit by Angel. I'll take 2 damage and roll to endure harm.
Rolling to Endure Harm. It's a miss. Not only I took the damage, but I lost 1 focus too.

The wooden spear transfixes Kane's torso, but misses his heart. Kane growls in pain. He'll try to secure an advantage by grabbing the spear, stoping Angel from recovering it. Rolling vs 7. It's a miss. Kane tries to hold on to the spear, but Angel is faster than he expected.
Alexander is scared. He'll try again to move, to jump to the darkness and gain some kind of advantage in that combat. Rolling to Clash vs 6. 4, 4, 4. It's a strong hit, finally.
Even though Kane is hurt and with a crossbow bolt stuck in his leg, he manages to step sideways, dodging the next spear attack that is aiming at his heart. He moves toward Angel's back, cutting deep on his side with his sword as he moves. Angel cries out in pain and anger.
Kane will now try to attack again, from the back. I'll consider this gives him a +1 on the roll.
Rolling to clash vs 7. 1, 2, 8. It's another strong hit. The upward swing cuts deep at Angel's back.
Rolling to end the fight vs 10, since the progress bar is full. It's a strong hit. We won.

Angel falls to the floor, dropping his spear. He's bleeding out and unconscious, but he's still alive. There's still time - time to feed, and time to get some answers.

The basement was a battlefield of flickering beams, light carving jagged slices through the oppressive shadows. Angel’s flashlight swept the room with the precision of a predator, its cone of light casting fleeting glimpses of the crates, dust motes dancing in the air. Behind him, his younger companion’s flashlight wavered, its jittering beam betraying the nerves of the hand holding it.

Behind the haphazard wall of crates, Alexander Kane awoke, his senses returning with a rush of clarity. The scent of mortal sweat and blood mingled with the damp, stagnant air, sharpening his awareness. He lay perfectly still, his body pressed against the cool concrete, listening intently. Two of them—one calm and measured, the other trembling with inexperience. The stronger one, Angel, was closer, the other near the basement door. Kane’s lips curled into a faint, predatory smile.

He inhaled deeply, focusing, awakening the supernatural awareness within him. The hunters were like bright candles in his mind’s eye, their positions precise. His instincts sharpened; his blood stirred.

The katana hissed from its sheath, the faint sound lost beneath the younger hunter’s muttered unease. Kane moved. He erupted from behind the crates, a blur of motion in the intersecting beams of light. The younger hunter’s flashlight froze on him, a gasp escaping his lips. The crossbow fired.

The bolt hit Kane’s knee just as his blade found its mark. The katana sliced through the hunter with lethal precision, a single stroke sending him crumpling to the ground. His flashlight spun across the floor, coming to rest against the wall. Its harsh glare threw the streaks of blood into sharp relief as the coppery scent filled the air.

Kane staggered slightly, biting back a snarl as the pain in his leg flared. Angel’s light caught the scene, illuminating his fallen partner and the blood pooling beneath him.

“No!” Angel roared, his voice cracking with rage. He charged, spear raised, his movements a practiced dance of violence.

Kane’s gaze snapped to the fallen flashlight. His foot came down hard, shattering the bulb with a crunch. The room plunged into chaos, lit now only by the jagged arc of Angel’s remaining flashlight. Kane twisted, his katana cutting high and fast. The blade struck Angel’s headlamp with a sharp crack, extinguishing the second light in a burst of sparks.

The basement became a shifting war of shadow and sound. Angel swore under his breath, the scrape of his boots and the whistle of his spear cutting through the dark. But Kane felt at home here. The blackness was his ally, and Angel’s movements lit up in his mind like echoes in the void.

Angel swung wildly, his strikes calculated but blind. Kane moved to slip behind him, his katana poised for the killing stroke—but the tang of blood in the air clouded his focus. His hunger gnawed at his mind, and his step faltered. Angel seized the moment. The wooden spear drove into Kane’s torso, missing his heart by inches. A guttural growl tore from Kane’s throat as the hunter twisted the shaft.

Pain burned like fire, but Kane was relentless. He surged sideways, dodging another thrust. His katana rose in a fluid arc, slicing deep into Angel’s side. The hunter cried out, staggering, his spear faltering.

The fight became a blur of movement, the two of them clashing in the darkness. Kane pressed his advantage, the pain and hunger driving him forward. With a final upward swing, his katana bit into Angel’s back, carving a deep, decisive wound. Angel fell forward, his weapon clattering to the ground.

For a moment, the basement was silent save for Angel’s ragged breathing. He lay bleeding, unconscious but alive. Kane stood over him, his chest heaving, the glow of victory tempered by the burn of hunger. There was still time—for answers, and for blood.

We're alive. Now Kane will try to: heal, get some answers from Angel's mind and feed.
Rolling to heal vs force (5). It's a miss. I get hungrier, but don't heal. I'll consider that healing during daytime is harder. I'm at hunger level 3 now.
Now I'll use my new Sixth Sense power to read Angel's mind. The ability is wrriten like this: You can read people’s thoughts and memories. Once per night, you may psychically inspect the mind of someone next to you as if it were a book.
Kane will turn Angel unconscious body, sit on his chest and hold his head in his hands. Then, he'll dive deep. Time to get some answers.

Is STAKE, Angel's hunter group, the one affiliated with the Epitaph Order? Nearly certain. 42. Yes it is.
Has the Epitaph Order ordered them to hunt Kane? 50/50. 41. Yes, they have.
The Order wanted Kane captured? Likely. 8. Extreme yes. The Order did not want they to kill Kane, but to capture him.
Why did they wanted Kane captured? 62, 20. Move depletion. Angel doesn't know.
Is Angel the de facto leader of the STAKE group? Nearly impossible. 32. No.
What is the leader's name? Victor "Ironjaw" Dresner.
Does Angel knows where I can find Victor? Impossible. 93. Extreme no. Victor acts from the shadows, not even his own organization knows where to find him most of the time.
Did Angel knew the nature of the Epitaph Order? Unlikely. 73. No.
As far as he knows, what is the nature of the relationship between STAKE and the people they've been talking to? 7, 95. Assist victory. As far as Angel knows, the people of STAKE consider that the Order is an allied private intelligence agency that assists then in their war against vampires and others supernaturals.
What is the alias used by the Order's member that hes been in contact with Angel? Harbinger.
Is it a man or a woman? Man.
Do I recognize his face? Very unlikely. 80. I do not.
Are there more hunters looking for me? Likely. Yes. Since Angel failed, probably more will come.
Does Angel knows anything about Elijah Ward and Mateo? 50/50. Extreme yes. He sure does.
What does he knows? 88, 14. Support confort. Elijah Ward was a mark that died by someone else's hand (Kane killed him, but Angel doesn't know that). Mateo is another vampire that the Order asked to be taken, because he'd stolen some crucial information and the Order would like to interrogate him. Angel also knows that the Order is dealing with arcane objects.
As far as Angel knows, was it STAKE that took the knife from Mateo's cache? Likely. Yes.
Angel knows where the knife is now? Likely. Yes. It's been given back to the Order.

Ok, I think that's enough. Kane will now feed on Angel and finish him off. I won't even roll, given the situation. I'll consider it a Strong Hit. I'll kill him, get 4 blood (back to full) and take a 3 point hit to spirit, because killing by drink is always a taxing experience - it feels right and wrong at the same time.

The basement was still and heavy with silence, broken only by the faint scrape of Kane’s boots against the concrete as he limped to a stack of crates. The crossbow bolt in his knee jutted out like an accusation, its presence a constant reminder of the fight’s brutality. Pain seared through his leg, but Kane welcomed it—it anchored him, kept him focused.

He knelt and grabbed the shaft, his pale fingers tightening around the bloodied wood. His body, cold and unyielding, lacked the warmth to make the pain ebb naturally. There were no heartbeats to drown out the agony, no mortal pulse to quicken and distract him. The act of survival was raw and deliberate.

With a firm yank, the bolt tore free. A wet squelch followed, and blood seeped from the wound, black in the dim light. Kane bit down on a snarl as the pain flared, white-hot, before dulling to a throb. He tossed the bolt aside, its clatter echoing into the shadows. His body wouldn’t heal quickly—not under the weight of the daylight above—but the act of removing it felt like a small victory.

Straightening, Kane turned his attention to Angel’s body sprawled across the floor. The hunter’s features were slack, his chest motionless, but his memories would still hold the answers Kane sought. Limping over, Kane knelt beside him and grasped Angel’s head, tilting it back. His cold fingers pressed into the cooling flesh of Angel’s temples, and Kane closed his eyes, letting the power within him stir.

---

The memories came in disjointed flashes, shards of thought and sensation that Kane pieced together like a broken mirror. Angel’s loyalty to STAKE was clear, his faith in their mission unwavering. Kane saw the hunters gathered in a stark warehouse, their weapons gleaming under harsh fluorescent lights. Their briefing had been precise, their orders explicit: capture Alexander Kane alive.

The words reverberated through Angel’s thoughts, clear and undeniable. The Order, their enigmatic benefactors, had issued the directive. STAKE had been told that Kane’s survival was paramount—that he was of critical importance to the Order’s plans. But as far as Angel knew, the Order’s reasoning was a mystery. They had been presented as allies, a shadowy intelligence agency with resources and knowledge, but their true nature eluded Angel.

Kane pressed deeper, sifting through the fragments. The name Victor "Ironjaw" Dresner emerged, sharp and vivid. The elusive leader of STAKE, a man who ruled from the shadows, was just as unreachable to his subordinates as the Order was. Angel’s thoughts offered no further insights into Dresner’s whereabouts or intentions.

Another image flared in Angel’s mind—a knife. Mateo’s knife, stolen from its cache and delivered to the Order. Kane could feel the weight of Angel’s certainty: the artifact was now in their possession. The Order’s fixation on arcane objects hinted at plans far larger than Angel could comprehend, but the pieces of the puzzle remained incomplete.

Kane severed the connection with a sharp inhale, his hunger now a roaring tide in the void of his chest. He turned Angel’s head, exposing the hunter’s neck. Kane’s fangs extended, their razor edges aching for release.

“They wanted me alive,” he murmured, voice tinged with dark amusement. “Guess they’ll have to settle for a corpse.”

Kane sank his teeth into Angel’s neck, the blood rushing over his tongue in a wave of warmth and power. The hunter’s body jerked weakly, then fell still as Kane drained the last of his life. Each pulse of Angel’s fading essence filled Kane with vitality, though the cost weighed heavily on him. Killing to feed was a burden, a paradox of satisfaction and loathing that gnawed at the edges of his fractured humanity.

---

When it was over, Kane leaned against a crate, wiping the blood from his lips with the back of his hand. The silence in the room was absolute now, broken only by the faint creak of the building above. Reaching into his coat, he retrieved a worn leather journal and a pencil. Flipping to a blank page, he began to write, the words sharp and deliberate.

The Order commands.
Blood binds even the hunters.
I drink, and they fall.

Kane snapped the journal shut and slid it back into his pocket. Rising to his feet, he cast a final glance at Angel’s body. His mind swirled with questions, the weight of what he had learned pressing down on him. The Order wanted him alive—but why?

Steeling himself, Kane limped back to where he was sleeping before - there was still day left, and the empire of the sun still prohibitted him from leaving. The problems caused by those hunters weren't over yet.

Before going back to sleep, I'll sing another elegy: Find and investigate the STAKE base of operations. I'll give it a rank of Formidable. Roll vs heart. 5, 8. It's a miss - you must overcome a significant obstacle before you begin your quest. The obstacle is obvious: I'm hurt in a basement surrounded by bodies.