>>6322590
>>6322823
You simply sit back and drink unsure if you're not dreaming. The Frenchman stirs his finger in the blood filling his glass and a blue fire burns up around his digit. The blood begins to boil and he takes his finger out and drinks deeply from the glass. He downs the entire thing in one gulp and then slams it down bottom up on the bar top, "Excellent! That biker was in good health despite his looks! Must have been a tourist in disguise." The Frenchman turns around and looks at you contemplatively, then takes something out of his jacket and slides it over towards you. "This is yours. As frightening as the Drakul's blood can be, what does it mean in the face of your 'enlightenment'? Men bleed for me, but the world bleeds for you. Is that not so?"

You look down at what he slid over to you. It's a glove, no some kind of gauntlet. The metal armor fits over your right hand and it resonates with you on a profound level. As if somebody's returned something you'd been missing for a long time. An old friend.

>Don the gauntlet

>Put in your pocket

>Ask him what it is

>Ask him who he is