Under hidden curtains, as the metaphor might stand to reason. A vampire; weak in contrary to many other powerful entities, was up to no good deeds. Taking himself off the streets, this fiend had decided to apply his oldest name. The Strategist. Men in blackened hoodies chanted words that, latin in nature, seemed hummed with a darker eerie nature. He was the planner, the one who would ultimately choose the successors of this world. this realm full of spite, malice. It was home to him.

He would never die again.

At least, with the measures he was taking he didn't want too. Death, hell, torment. For lack of better words, were more fun enacted on others. Rather than send himself to hell. Erebus had changed his heart. Some humans, creatures or what have it. Truly were worthy of allegiance. Ylva, and Odin had planted the thoughts in his head. Erebus was a foul specimen of hatred and carnal destruction. But-- he was sensitive. Every bad man, needs a side to empathize. Rather than that  however, Erebus had a better idea. A fundamental one which he knew would take long nights, the best time for him to move. But on the brighter side to a gloomy morning, Erebus was the veil. He was about to snuff the light out forever.

Being a vampire meant far more than one might think, it enabled a person to give immortality to those loyal enough for it. These kinds of rights were normally for the most selective bunch. However, Erebus had found a better idea. As opposed to leaving his trust in a coven. He would use his powers to have others cause mayhem in his shrouded absence. Red pills, for which came to be known as 'BLUDS' had entered the street. pressed with multiple drugs they left a person feeling they needed more.

But the narcotic itself wasn't the thirst they craved no; these pills did something abnormal. Extraordinary. They would send the abuser into a cannibalistic hunger, whereas; on feasting the person would feel absolute euphoria and pleasure.

Such a low dosage would deny the reciprocation enough power to be called a vampire, and instead merely gave them an hour of destructive wake. Since the pills hit the streets weeks ago; rape, murder, domestic abuse, trafficking, suicide, and manslaughter cases have been opened. Gangs have begun racketeering more to the people's hands. Armed for the shady streets at night, these people are afraid. They wish to protect their families, they are what you would call a rebel alliance.

What they do not know, is that they too are under the gull-wing of Erebus Cassiel's new cult. He calls them his 'family', however... For this unit, they do not know they are working for the singular entity they've actually come to fear and rose up to fight against. They throw their trust around like a used body, prostituting their faith to him as a leader.

They are pawns, his chivalrous gunmen, sent on slaughters or attacks they the believe will help their lives. Names that go to them, are very akin to the Salem Witch trials, usually high aristocratic families, magicians of noticeable reprieve, knights, or powerful business owners. People whom wouldn't take BLUDs at all actually, but have been painted up as nothing more than the very vermin that Erebus feeds to entertain his twisted fantasies of a hell on earth for his reign.

Erebus carries little love for these pathetic lots, but they have come to show him respect and loyalty you couldn't imagine, they have seen his mind at work, his genius fertile like the spring flowers, they do know he is there; above them. However, his identity as the Coven's ruler, and the Vampire responsible for the Narcotic Distribution epidemic as of recent, remains unclear to them.

Erebus in his lonely nature, holds no one next to him as a right-hand. Tirelessly causing havoc from the distance or the shadows. He grew exhausted of conversation, speaking in riddles to his own psyche; his mind wandering in and out of reality overtime. But for very selective people, he has opened a Cult. The Cult of Envy. A Cult that believes you should live for your own happiness first, and extinguish the happiness of those 'privileged' enough to have never known struggle or hardship.

Erebus is a horseman. A messenger from a higher power. One that not even he, has an idea of. He simply moves like a black plague, infecting the planet. For only being as strong as a B-rank mage, Erebus as amassed an underground army, a network for crime. Which is plugged into many smaller gangs, ones that refute Guilds and magic...

For the time Being, his face will continue to be out of the public, his whereabouts unseen.