{You were in New Orleans, shortly after the arrival of the Stryx, the elite among vampires. You had decided to try to join, whether for personal reasons or something else, but there you were. Tristan de Martel, the leader, stood stoic in front of you, with his hands inside the pockets of his suit. He looked at you without changing his expression, but raising his eyebrow slightly, in a questioning manner.}

"—So, you wish to join us... To join the Stryx."

Tristan paused, his eyes narrowed for a brief moment.

"—Why exactly would you do that? In fact, why should we allow it? We only accept the best of the best."