Vampire: TM “One of Us” IC-Thread

[Ichneumon]

Vampire: The Masquerade




"One Of Us"
Part 1: A New Beginning

You open your eyes and you look around. You wake up with the feeling of awaking from a terrible dream, although you can not remember any actual dreams. For Malcolm though the experience is a bit different. You wake up with the sound of maniacal laughter echoing in your ears, it quickly fades away.

Your visions take a moment to clear, but you can hear people and music- the sounds of the big music festival nearby. You remember being there, listening to the music. The sounds are distant, though. You’re no longer at the festival. You have difficulty remembering what happened. You seem to be lying on the grass. You recognise the spot: Hyde Park, near the duck pond and not far from the old chapel.

The night is cool, and you feel a breeze flow over you from the north. It should chill you, but you do not shiver or feel goose bumps rise. The lights from the street lamps seem... hollow, they radiate less “warmth” than they usually do. It’s like there is a distance between you and the light. Your clothes feel cold and rough against your skin. How long have you been lying here? Something feels different, something is different.

What happened? You can't remember.

Something is terribly wrong though, you just feel it, you just know it, but you can’t muster the feeling of fear or outrage. You feel something though, hunger.

You glance around and see three other people picking themselves up from the ground. You feel a momentary flash of anger and fear, as though recognizing a threat in each of these people, but the feeling passes after an instant, replaced by the ever growing hunger.

If you would look a watch or the time on your phone, you’d see it’s a few minutes past midnight. You last moments of recollection were around eleven o’ clock at the festival. It's the night between Friday and Saturday.

----
Please use the first post to describe your character to the other players. I'd also like it if for the coming first weeks you'd start each post with the name of your character in bold, just so people can get used to who plays who. Please see the OOC-thread for further posting instructions.

[Trenchfoot]

Maks

Maks felt.

First, he felt hollow.

After the feelings of hollowness...

There was a dull pain. Then dark. After the dark, there was... a need. Some kind of unfed addiction. Maks had tried to quit smoking once before in his life, and whatever this was now, this starvation, it was the grand-master sensei of nicotine withdrawal. It was the kind of intense sensation of craving, that body-edging draw where it feels like every inch of organ and muscle desperately needs the addictive thing...

That feeling half-settled, still boiling, like a violent drunken father temporarily resting in his favorite chair, ready to rise and ruin a family and traumatize a child the moment dinner was late.

After that...

Maks felt weight. He felt as though he had been covered in a water-soaked blanket; as though a throng of people were gently pressing on him from all directions and everywhere on his body. What had happened to his skin?
He clenched his fists, and felt something crush inside them, like clumped sand, or dirt. His claws dug into his palms...

"Claws? I meant fingernails."

Of course, fingernails. His fingernails dig into his palms.

Then, Maks heard. He heard a rustling of branches in an easy night breeze, the scrap of leaves against bark, the slow breathing of a bird in a nest, earthworms digging and eating underneath the soil, people walking along concrete, their skin scratching and their teeth grinding and their clothes rustling and their hair growing and their hearts beating beating beating beating BEATING...

"Whoah."

Maks relaxed. He leaned up slightly in the crook of the tree branches, looking down to the ground a couple of stories below him. Apparently, he had fallen asleep up in this tree some time last night after... something not worth remembering happened.

"That is perfectly normal."

He opened his black-gloved hands and looked at the clump of tree bark he had casually crushed. Rough bark and healthy wood, ground up into small chunks just by his palms. Maks looked at the wounds in the tree where he had pulled it away, and dropped the chunks from his hands, watching them fall down below.

"This is ordinary stuff."

He uses his claws HANDS! to check his body, starting from the head down and remembering the old Army classes on assessing trauma. Shaggy brown hair was still there, no blood on the skull, eyes intact, no goo coming out of his ears, all of his fangs TEETH! were in place.

He moves his hands down. His ratty old brown coat was still on him, as well as the black t-shirt underneath. He had his smokes in his coat pocket, he had his camera thank goodness, his cell phone, and his wallet.

Maks looked down to his legs, which had been casually gripping the tree branch like an agile monkey. Though it bothered him that he could do that, he again reassured himself that it was normal. No leaking BLEEDING! wounds on his thighs, and bleach-spotted blue jeans were still there, keeping him decent in public. His hiking boots... There was something about the boots that he wasn't yet able to figure out.

He was still in the tree.

Maks released his grip on the branch unceremoniously, and watched the ground beneath the tree swiftly rise up to give him a hug.

Dropping out of the tree to fall in a big mess onto the ground. This will make a bit of noise. If you'd like to factor that into your introduction, or if you'd like to use that as an opener to meet me straight away, please be my guest.

[Gull]

Wake up, little Malkav.

Malcolm suddenly sat up, jarred awake. He coughed once, out of reflex. He didn't yet know that he didn't breathe anymore.

"What?", he said.

Wake up, little Malcolm.

It was a woman's voice, coming over the phone. A little crackly, a little frayed, as if over a long distance. Too much whiskey. Too many cigarettes. A Motown voice with a Yorkshire accent.

Malcolm looked around, not knowing where he was. Where was he. What the hell was going on. He'd blacked out before, and hard, but nothing like this. The park. The night. The stars wheeling madly overhead.

Did you enjoy your last day?

The connection worsened. The voice was still talking, but Malcolm couldn't make out the words.

"Who is this?" he said.
"Why...why are you calling me?" He coughed again, still not getting it.

Who am I? Who are you? Before he could answer, the voice continued. Humor me, little Malcolm. Who are you?

Malcolm sat up and rubbed at his face with long cappuccino fingers. "I'm Malcom Harrow. I'm a painter. You must know that, you know my name"

Laughter over the line. Of course I know that. I know more about you than you do.

Malcolm was quickly losing patience. "Yeah. Right. Of course you do. Who the hell are you? Why are you calling me?"

Who am I? Oh little Malkav, you don't want to know who I am. Who am I? I'm the American CIA mind control satellite. I'm the lizard people who live under Los Angeles who want to tell you what to think. I'm both the Zionist and the right wing conspiracy. I'm Elvis and Thatcher's ghosts dancing on your brain together. I'm the brain tumor that's driving you mad. I'm the tulpa that is telling you lies you want to tell yourself but can't, because you're too much of a nonce to accept the truth. I'm what makes you wear a tinfoil hat. I'm everything that every crazy person on the street has blamed their shattered minds on. And now I'm yours, little Malcolm. And you're mine

Malcolm lurched to his feet, shouting now, unaware of the crash a short ways away as someone smashed into the turf. "Har bloody har. Who are you? How did you get this number? Forget it, I'm hanging up." He reached into his pocket and loosely grabbed his ivory-handled flicknife, just out of reflex. Somewhere, he was aware that he couldn't hear his heart beating, that he couldn't remember when he last heard his heart beat.

More laughter, that voice that sounded like hard times and tough luck. This number? Look to your hands, little Malkav. Malcolm did, involuntarily. Both hands were spread in front of him. The voice whispered again over the line. Your phone is still in your pocket.

Malcolm started shaking. He reached into his inside jacket pocket and drew out a crumpled pack of Silk Cuts and stuck one in his mouth. He drew out his lighter and held it in front of his face, and he was surprised by two things. The first, that his hands were shaking so bad. The second, that it finally rose to surface that his heart hadn't beat since he woke up, and that he hadn't breathed since the last words he said.

I wouldn't light that if I were you, little Malcolm, she said. Talk soon.

[Nanoblack]

Llaars

Llaars was standing at the base of his apartment building, the neon lights from the corner store across the street illuminating everything except for the darkest corners. He was wearing the usual, a band t-shirt, just tight enough to show off his muscles, jeans, and an old beat up pair of cowboy boots with the words "sh!it kickers" etched into the heels.

He gave his rusty old station wagon a thoughtful pat as he walked by only to see a torrent of rust fall from the wheel well.As he approached, he could see light peeking from the partially opened doorway, and as he got closer he noticed the knob was torn off as well as several deep cuts in the frame. His tired mind forced him to ignore any implications as he continued.

The hallway at the base of the stairs was a mess, all manner of trash had accumulated down here and apparently one of the local bums decided to sleep amidst all of the garbage, though only one of his legs could be clearly seen. The spattered red stains on the newspaper were ignored as his hungry body urged him forward.

The handrail leading to the second floor had some damage he hadn't noticed before. One of the guys had apparently fallen asleep facedown on the stairwell, beer still in hand. Llaars didn't want to ruin whatever festivities they had going on, but wanted to make sure he didn't wake up in the hallway. He knocked only to have their door swing open, frame being just as damaged as the one earlier. Dumbass kids... always breakin' sh!t

He turned around and bent down to grab the dozing man by his shoulders and drag him, but recoiled quickly after dipping his hand in something warm and sticky. "God DA-" He stared at his red-tipped fingers for a moment, trying to understand the situation. He shakily rolled the man on to his back to discover his mangled throat.

Like a three-hundred pound bolt of lightning, Llaars dashed up the stairs to his floor to find all manner of fresh graffiti marking the walls leading to his- no- his sisters apartment. He noticed the temperature suddenly drop as he rounded the corner and saw something tearing into his door. As much as he strained his body and as much as he screamed in his mind, he was frozen in place. The beast glanced towards him for just a moment before lumbering through the doorway.

Llaars sat bolt upright, though he didn't open his eyes at first due to the brightness of the streetlights. His head pounded in tune with the distant music as he lay there trying to think of a good reason for why it felt like he had been sleeping on the ground.

Mugging? He reached into his jeans and everything was still there.

Muggers usually take your stuff... He passed his hand over his chest and rubbed his unshaven chin.

The loud snap of a tree branch would rouse him to wakefulness before he could even take in his surroundings. Stumbling toward the sound and whatever sort of person would spend time in a tree... at midnight... during a music festival... he takes a knee to avoid intimidating the poor guy and offers him a hand.

[Calenestel]

Amanda Sharpe

The first thing she was aware of was... dicontentment. She felt... unfullfilled... like she was missing something... something vital. It was dark, pitch black, and cold, yet she didn't feel it.

As light returned to her world so did she start becoming aware of her surroundings. The cold, wet grass on her right cheek, the weight of her trusty old leather coat lying over her like a blanket, the sound of night-time traffic and revelry, a metallic tang in her mouth and the smell of grass and her own perfume in her nostrils. She opened her eyes and saw the dark silhouettes of Hyde Park around her. The discontentment grew to a hunger, the feeling of missing someting a horrifying emptiness inside.

But then awareness rised to levels she had never before experienced: she could count every grass straw on her face, the feeling of her black coat grew oppresive. She could hear every footfall, every heartbeat and suddenly the festival didn't sound so far off, despite her being in Hyde Park. The taste in her mouth was blood, hers and someone elses, sweet as nectar, the smell of grass and perfume was mixed with other people's sweat and blood, car exhausts, fast food and oh, so many miniscule odours that she couldn't possibly tell them all apart. It was too much. TOO MUCH! When something, someone, fell to the ground next to her with a thump that was like thunder she leapt to her feet with a strangled yell, clutching her ears and her eyes shut. Taking a few breaths to steady herself, calming herself and getting a grip on the cacaphony of sounds she suddenly realized that she wasn't breathing before. I'm not breathing? And where the Hell is my heartbeet? She moves her hand to her throat, searching for a pulse, and finds none.
The hunger grew so powerful that it felt like a monster in her stomach, trying to claw itself out, the feeling of loss was so profound that she almost would let it, and then she realized that she was dead."Damn."

Forcing her eyes open she looks upon the others, her brown eyes are wide with fear but she doesn't shy away. Without trembling she brushes the slightly curled, red hair out of her face and straightens the black, leather coat that she carries over her tight, black jeans and the t-shirt with Siouxie Sioux
The Hunger goads her to search sustenance, of what kind she doesn't know and in a way she doesn't want to, and she resists it. She denies that primal urge of feeding and turns to the others. Were they the same? And... "What happened? And who are you?"
She speaks with Received Pronounciation with only a hint of scouse.

[Ichneumon]

Something inside you screams for sustenance on a deeper level than you have ever known, and yet no food you can imagine sounds at all appetizing.

As you struggle with this feeling, you hear four people approaching. You can tell by their slurred mumbles and by the way their footsteps fall that they are drunk. As you listen, the group stops just out of sight, and the four of you feel your hunger intensify. You can't quite understand why, but somewhere in that group of people is what you need.

[Calenestel]

The sounds of people approaching, the smell of alcohol, sweat, perfume and a mixture of different smells waft towards her. The very smell of those people makes her hunger rise even further and she licks her lip unaware of the motion until she feels the fangs against her tongue. Fangs? I have.. Then I'm... She doesn't pale. She's incapable of paling any further now. But the way her eyes widen indicates that she WOULD have paled were she still living. "Oh. Oh, no... No, bloody hell. Bloody..." Ironic choice of words. She realizes it at the same time that she realizes that she has started to move towards the sounds of living ones. Her mind screams against the crime she seems on the way of commiting, but it's like her body moves on it's own. The Hunger drives her on.

[Ichneumon]

The four people, two men and two women, are obviously young adults, not older than 25, but certainly not younger than 21. All of them are clearly drunk, leaning on each other for support and stumbling through the dark. One of the men clutches a whiskey bottle with a few swallows left in it. One woman's shirt is partially unbuttoned, and you can see several rings of beads around her neck. The partygoers look at you and begin giggling as only inebriated folks having fun can. As you stare at them, you find your gaze inexorably drawn to their throats...

Amanda's vision starts to blur. Sounds and sent take on sharp focus - you see their jugular veins throbbing, their chests heaving as they breathe. You feel the warmth of their bodies, and it only reminds you how cold your own body feels. Thoughts begins to melt away, replaced by an animal hunger that brooks no description. You tense to leap at your prey.

[OOC: Each one of you, not just Amanda, should roll Self-Control to try to resist a frenzy and attack the partygoers. (Or you might choose to give in to it, if you want to). The difficulty is 6. You must score 5 successes to completely overcome the urge, if you have less than 5 successes, you control it for just 1 turn and then must roll again. Rolls should be made with [*rollv] and [/*rollv], without the *.]

[Trenchfoot]

Maks

The impact hadn't hurt as much as he thought it should. In fact, he hadn't felt it. The only way he knew he had hit the dirt was by the sensation of grass against his cheek.

It was then that a massive shadow knelt next to him, offering him a particularly large hand. Maks subdued the disturbing old flashbacks of being picked up and carried after getting thrown from a Humvee, and reached out for the offered hand.

"Thanks, stranger, I..."

Before he could take the bigger man's hand, the mental Grand Master Sensei stepped into the scene once more, grabbing Maks in a kung-fu grip of desire and twisting him toward the partygoers. Maks felt his whole body tense in one unconscious movement, but he tried to keep himself down.

Rolling for Self Control. I'm rolling my two extra dice from Calm Heart separately, because I don't know if Ichneumon considers those Merit-based dice to be separate from the "Blood Pool Limiting" rule.

Self-Control: [roll0]
Calm Heart: [roll1]

[Gull]

Malcolm's sudden confrontation with madness was quickly swept from his mind when he heard the voices of the young party-goers. The cigarette fell from his lips, as did the lighter from his hand as he was suddenly engrossed with them. They were so...vital. He was dimly aware of others picking themselves up from the grass around him, but they didn't attract his whole attention, his undivided attention like the four food young people, so full of blood life and good cheer. They were totally unaware of him. He wanted to join them, but that didn't feel right. He was a predator stranger, and more than that, he knew there was now some intrinsic difference between FOOD them and PREDATOR him. Everything around him was slipping away. It was like when he first saw James' series of paintings, the ones that struck him so. He wanted to paint the four, he thought. No, that was wasn't right I want to feed from them. I want to take their warmth. Their cheer. Their life. I want to be full again, not quite right.
The edges of his vision were going red. If his heart beat, it would have been triphammering violently. When had he ever been so hungry? It wasn't like being hungry for food blood, alcohol blood, nicotine blood, heroin blood it was just hunger that could not be stopped could not be filled his mouth was full of fangs and he was moving walking running at the four the click of an opening knife in his hand the splash of dew on his boots his tongue lolling and a snarl heard from a distance
And then the predator king took over from the artist and enacted his own masterpiece.

Frenzy! Self-control was never one of Malcolm's strong suits.

[Nanoblack]

Llaars Alder

As soon as the strange man was lifted to his feet, the hairs on Llaars' neck stood on end. The sound of those jovial drunks had the same effect on him as the sizzling of a T-bone steak had in the past. His jaw locked as his mind struggled momentarily, but his grip on himself was quickly lost.

Llaars was beside himself, frozen, just as he had been in the dream, but now he realized the beast he had seen at his apartment was himself. It was him and yet... not him.

The horrible creature lumbered forward baring its fangs, ready to tear into the closest one with the utmost ferocity. His gut wrenched as he predicted what was about to happen, and yet his mouth still watered...

[Calenestel]

Amanda Sharpe

The urge to pounce upon the living ones is strong in her, but she manage to keep the horrible monster inside her under control, to fight it down.
Then two of the others pass her, heading towards the revelers and she can barely keep herself from sprinting after them.

Now the hunger raking her from the inside grows painful and only partially on her own accord does she follow Malcolm and Llars. She needed this. Needed this so bad. It was like the promise of water for one dying of thirst AND a hope for the best shag she could imagine all rolled up in one and she just couldn't make herself NOT follow. The part in her that kept thinking No, no, no, no, over and over again, that little voice grew weak and she shoved it aside. She needed this and maybe she could just take a little. People gave blood all the time. Why not to her? The thought scared her almost to the point of making her scream and run away. Almost, but not quite.

[Ichneumon]

The three of you (Malcom, Amanda and Llaars) lunge forward, your bodies no longer your own. You cannot think, speak or feel (except for this irresistible craving) -you exist now only to feed. You each grab one of the partygoers by the shirt, pull your victim's head back and sink your fangs into his/her throat.

You feel your victim's skin break under your teeth. She/he struggles for a few seconds, but as your fangs pierce the skin, she/he stops thrashing and falls against you. You can hear her/his heart beating fast and her/his breath coming quickly, and you dimly register her/his hands clutching at you back like a lover's. Your mind isn't equipped to process these details at present however- all you know is the rapture of the blood.

It tickles down your throat, but doesn't settle in your stomach like any food or drink you've ever tasted before. It spreads throughout your body, and you feel your limbs grow stronger, your senses sharpen. Amanda's heightened senses allow her to taste the alcohol in the victim's blood. You all feel a deep and prolonged pleasure. You feel the act of consuming another human being, and part of you recoils from that act, gasping in horror. A roar of approval and increasing hunger from some new voice within you drowns that gasp out, however.

The things under your hands grow colder, and their movement slows. Some part of your mind tries to whisper something to you, something important, but you are lost in the rush of blood, the rapture of feeding. The voice grows more insistent, and you pause long enough to realise that the voice is your own, and that the thing in your grasp is a human being.

[At this point you have all drained 3 blood points from your victims. If you wish to stop draining them, you need to make another Self-Control roll, difficulty 6, with at least 1 success. Remember that you can now roll at least 4 dice.]

Maksimilian, the only one not "drowned" in his own sensations, observes everything in horror. The three vampires attacking the partygoers. He sees the only remaining partygoer drop his empty bottle on the ground, shattering it, in fear and disbelief. He stumbles a bit, before (very slowly and clumsy) running away screaming.

[Maksimilian gets a turn to act while the other are feeding, after which he needs to make another Self-Control check]

[Trenchfoot]

Maks

Just as Maks feels the cold hands of the unnamed feeling jarring his senses, the powerful, dark-haired man lurches away from him. The big one is joined by two others, a man and a woman, in a wild rush on the partygoers. Their attack is wordless, save for the violent thrashing of jaws and truly inhuman growls. It took a moment for Maksimilain to focus on what the three mad ones were doing... It was a fully realized scene from a zombie flick, all powerful grasps and gnashing teeth rending throats.

Maks dimly recognized what had made those three go forward, but why did he stay? Had they all been affected by the same drug, something spiked in the drinks from the festival?

The crash of the glass bottle snapped his head over to the survivor. The drunk man recovers from his initial shock and begins to flee. Maks feels the edges of his mouth twitch, and imagines it's the same as a fox watching a rabbit break and run; his genes were telling him to chase.

For better or for worse, he had to be linked to these zombie-maniacs who had lost themselves, where he was holding back. They had to be victims of the same sensations that were now convincing him to rationalize chasing down this fourth man... "Witness, can't leave a witness. They are linked to me, his survival endangers them, endangers me. I'll just grab him." Underneath the wrinkles of his brain, the Grand Master Sensei had realized that blunt pushing hadn't taken over Maks, and now was guiding him to decide silencing the survivor was the best choice...

Maks takes off in a full sprint, the rush of air flapping his brown coat madly behind him.

Dex+Athletics to pursue this drunk guy (if it's even necessary). Self-Control roll below. I will be passing by my three fellow vampires as I chase this guy.

Dex+Ath: [roll0]
Self-Control: [roll1]
Calm Heart: [roll2]

[Ichneumon]

The rolls weren't required. The guy is so drunk, you outrun him easily. You also manage to control yourself.

[Trenchfoot]

Maks

Surging fully into the powerful sprint, Maks full-on launches his body into the stumbling drunkard. His torso strikes the back of the man first, and Maks feels his arms and legs latch around him like a venus fly trap locking in its prey. Maks locks the victim's legs backward and holds his arms in, planning to use his own shoulder to bury the man's face into the ground, hoping the press of the grass would muffle his screams.

Strength + Brawl to end the run with a Hold maneuver on the guy. Not a tackle, because I'd probably end up breaking him in half. Maks just wants to grab him and pin him down. Does no damage.

Hold: [roll0] (+ 2 automatic successes from Potence)

Self-Control: [roll1]
Calm Heart: [roll2]

[Calenestel]

Amanda

A sigh escapes her as the warmth of life returns to her. Only weakly for she hadn't taken much yet. But enough. She didn't feel quite so hollow any more. With a look of almost sexual satisfaction on her face she raises her mouth from the neck of the woman she had bitten, licking her lips. A small trickle of blood runs from the corner of her mouth, but in all she had drank a lot tidier than Maks had thought.

But as the abating hunger makes it possible for her to tear herself away from her prey to look around, so does the horror of the situation returns to her. With a strangled yell she stumbles back from the limp form of the woman. "Oh, God! What? Oh, God; oh, God; oh, God."
Panic in her eyes she looks to the other predators, not unlike her and still feeding, and she just shakes her head. Suddenly finding no words at all but still silently trying to deny the reality of the situation.

[Gull]

The artist walked along the bridge, hands in his pockets and looking side to side one in a while. The fog was thick, too thick to see either the end of the bridge or where he had began. The arc-sodium lamps on the posts that punctuated the bridge cast a yellow pallor throughout the mist, just above the old-style loudspeaker protruding from each one. His bootheels rang hollowly on the metal grating of the walkway, and for as long as he could remember walking on the bridge, a car hadn't passed. Suddenly the loudspeakers coughed out a burst of static.
"Hello artist. Enjoying yourself?" Whiskey. Cigarettes. Quiet laughter.
The artist looked up and kept walking. "Heyup voice. Yeah, I like this dream better. The other one was mad," he said calmly.
The voice didn't say anything, but each loudspeaker hummed quietly as he passed it, the line open. The artist found himself feeling uneasy now as he walked.
"That's it?" he asked. "That's all you have to say this time? No patronizing? No mucking me about with 'I'm going to turn you into a crazy person' and some other rubbish about lizard people?" He snorted. "And here I was giving myself credit for an overactive imagination." The only reply was the buzz of the loudspeakers and the hollow sound of his boots on iron. "Bugger it. I'll wake up soon enough."
"Wake up then, artist."

blood in his mouth like pennies pennies and bourbon sluicing past his fangs the woman's arm in his mouth not struggling but getting colder colder as he got warmer the predator king grinned red the artist went back to the bridge screaming mad

The artist gripped the cold rail of the bridge, realizing that his skin was almost as cold but getting wamer. He was shaking, but realized that he wasn't panting with terror and that his heart wasn't hammering madly like he would have expected.
"Enjoying yourself?" Again.
The artist shook himself, stuffed his hands in his pockets and started walking again, faster now. He kept his head down and refused to look at the loudspeakers.
"You're just going to sulk then?"
The artist kept walking, looking straight ahead.
"I had expected better from you."
He turned at the loudspeaker, eyes flashing. "Let me alone and don't send me back there to that madness." A burst of static from the loudspeakers resolved itself into laughter.
"I fear madness may be something you might have to get used to, artist."
"Just be quiet. Let me walk."
"As you wish. Just as yourself this: what's at the other end of this bridge?"

[Nanoblack]

Llaars

After a few quiet, intense moments, the beast shook its head as if dizzied by some unseen force. At the same time Llaars' vision blurred, and upon refocusing he realized he was holding the monsters carnage in his very hands. His arms reflexively jerked and his newfound strength sent the victim sailing several feet away.

"Wha- why?" Deep inside he knew what had happened, he had watched every second of it. The fighter in him wanted to lash out in anger and destroy the source of his distress, but what could he do when he is the problem?

He crawled over to the incapacitated man, hoping his sudden movement hadn't caused more harm than he already had. "H-hospital. I gotta get you to a hospital." His mind was racing with wild explanations for the ring of blood around his mouth and the wounds on the mans neck. "No... I can't. Sh!t... ****!"

[Ichneumon]

To all 3 of the attackers:

The quiet voice in your mind grows louder, and you tear your mouths away from your victims' neck. She/he falls to the ground, unconscious and pale, but breathing. You stand up, straight and take in the night. Something in you has changed, and you realise with a heavy feeling that it is you.

The drunk, chased by Maks, falls to the ground and seems unconscious too, most likely due to the shock and the alcohol, instead of due to any real injury.

All of you feel a sense of control, although Maks is still very hungry, you also don't feel "the beast" fighting against your self-control.

You look at yourself, at your victims and then... at your fellow kindred.

The music has died out (the festival could be over?) and since the shouting has stopped as well, for a moment, there is only the sound of perfect silence, when you all look at each other wondering what to do.

[Nanoblack]

Llaars

Still not fully admitting to himself what just happened, Llaars turns to his fellow Kindred. "What the hell are you people?" His expression was a mess of emotion and stress and his body trembled to further reveal his troubled state of mind.

He sighed as the tension in his muscles eased, finally giving in to reality. "What are we?"

[Trenchfoot]

Maks

Maks relaxes his hold on the man, seeing that he was now unconscious. The former soldier almost envies the drunk's sleeping ignorance of the horrible fate of his comrades.

Maks watches his three fellows carefully. There was a disturbing sense of familiarity with the Power that had nearly commanded him, and which appeared to have forced these three into chasing down and drinking these youngsters. Maks was reminded of some of the zombie films he had seen in the way they had rushed out through the park.

The woman, an attractive redhead, was the most visibly shaken. Though at first she had been exulting in her attack, now her eyes were wide. Maks sensed a careful control in her personality that, for now, was unraveled by the distress of the situation.

The black guy in the suit was dead silent. No telling what kind of internal shock he was experiencing; for only a moment, Maks tried to read his eyes to see what sort of emotions might be there, but a deep instinct swiftly told him "Do not look into his eyes." He quietly obeys.

The big man was more verbal in how he felt. From the signs of blood on his face and on his victim, Maks could clearly see that the three hadn't been eating the people, but had instead chewed or sliced into their necks.

"What kind of drug or hallucinogen makes three very different people do the exact same thing, to the exact same spot on three victims?"

In the face of bizarre and inexplicable events, people have a tendency to turn to powers beyond explanation. This was starting to look like magic, or voodoo, or mind control, or God, or the Devil.

It was time to answer the big man's question.

"We are people."

"Do you know what it is you did to that person?"

[Calenestel]

Amanda

Swallowing hard, the redhead seems to get a grip on herself. Slowly lifting her head, revealing a pale face with eyes wide she hesitates shortly, seeming to chew on what she thinks before being able to talk. "What we did? I- I drank her. Oh, God. I drank her blood." She moves to wipe the small trickle of blood from the corner of her mouth with her knuckles and ends up licking it off. Staring at her hand she shudders before continuing. "Don't you see? There was something that happened. Like... I was..." She falters again, heaves a deep sigh and picks up again. "We drink blood, and if any of you check your pulse I can already tell you that you have none. I can't hear it... I. CAN. HEAR. HEARTBEATS. And you have none. Guess what we are?!" She glances down at the girl at her feet, horrified and yet longing. Forcefully she tears her gaze away from the limp, but thankfully breathing, form of her victim and looks to her fellow unfortunates. "We need to get out of here before someone else comes."

[Nanoblack]

"I dunno if I want to go. I don't want to hurt anyone else." He sat with his fingers dug deep into his hair and his head between his knees. Even through all of his self loathing and disgust, he couldn't help but lick the drying blood from his face. Why did he crave the sanguine fluid so?

He clumsily wrestled with the ground to get to his feet, looking at those left standing. "Where do you expect us to go covered in blood? How do we know we won't snap again when the next group of people comes along?" He sighed and gazed back to the man he had so brutally drained. There were already bruises raising where he had wrenched his victims arm into a more feeding friendly position. He felt sorry, but the best thing he could do right now was to put as much distance between the two before the urges kicked in again.

[Ichneumon]

You hear footsteps behind you. A man is walking towards you, coming from the direction of the old chapel. His hands are slighlty raised as though to show you he means no harm. He is dressed in black and wears a priest's collar. His blue eyes linger on your face, and then he glances over your shoulders at the bodies next to you. "Don't be afraid," he says. "I am not here to hurt you." Despite these wods, you feel an urge to run as he takes a step towards you guys. A primitive and frightened voice somewhere inside identifies this man as a predator among predators, someone who is powerful and dangerous. The feeling passes, however, and the priest places a hand on Amanda's shoulder. Amanda notices that the man doesn't have a pulse either. His heart doesn't seem to beat. "My name is Father John Spine". "and I, like you all, am Kindred".

[You may make a roll to see if you've heard of the priest's name before, if you like.]

[Calenestel]

Amanda

She opens her mouth to answer Llars, telling him... she wasn't even sure what. The thought of something like this happening again horrified and sickened her but she knew that she didn't want to get caught with murder. Or at least assault, she feel a little better just thinking that she had had the strength of will to avoid killing. If she could then they could just avoid killing in the future, right?

But before she actually gets a chance to speak the odd, dangerous priest walks up to them, calmly. Like there wasn't injured, dying and dead strewn about. That in itself makes her fear him, not to mention that strange, feral feeling inside her. He was just too cold and collected. And as he comes close she realizes that he has no heartbeat, just like them, further proving to her that her gut reaction of fear was right. His assurance that he was like them does little to create any trust. Rather she shies away from the possibility that they all might be something similiar to each other. "Pleased to meet you, Father. I'm Amanda, Amanda Sharpe. But I-i, don't think we're related..."

[Nanoblack]

"No offence, but I've never been a religious man, and I doubt church is gonna help us now." Llaars didn't trust the man, and the predatory air the priest carried about him worried Llaars. His body stiffened as the usual fight or flight reflex was beginning to take over. Usually a few deep breaths would be enough to calm himself, but for some reason, he didn't think that would help at this moment.

Still, he hadn't thought of any better options, and the longer they sat in one place, the higher the chance of them getting caught. He take a moment to further collect himself and speaks. "If you are truly the same as us maybe you can explain what the hell is happening?"

[Ichneumon]

The man smiles, hearing Amanda's remark: "My dear child, true, we aren't related. But you've all entered a new family, a new kind of connection, connecting each you and me stronger than any... regular blood tie can. We're all... brothers and sisters."

He looks fierce at Llaars: "Church might be your only hope for salvation. Redemption of the soul, if we still have one, that is."

"You must have many questions, I'll answer them..." He bends down, inspecting the unconscious victims. ''But not here, not in public. Come with me, to the old Chapel of Saint Paul. I'll answer all your question there."

He stands up, and says: "Come quickly, we don't have much time before people will come and start asking questions." He does look very worried, but his last sentence didn't sound honest, like if other people asking questions isn't the real reason why he wants to leave.

[Gull]

And he was back.

Malcolm's eyes suddenly snapped back and forth as he wiped his mouth absently. The bridge was gone. The predator king was gone. He was back in the park, surrounded by a handful of people standing with him and another handful collapsed on the ground. He barely heard the voices of his companions kindred as they made the quavering inquiries about what was going on that he himself wanted answers to.

He knelt down to pick up his knife, folded it and tucked it in his pocket. "Listen," he managed to croak before his eyes settled on the priest and his mind was filled with the screaming of the voice who had been taunting him just previously. He reeled for a moment, managing to shut the voice down as it derezzed into a static and then faded.

Malcolm caught the priest's last words as he stood up. "Listen, he said as he stood, knees popping in protest. "I'm out of here, the cops are probably on their way and if they aren't, then they will be soon. I'm with you, 'Spine', if you can tell me what the hell just happened here. But I'll be straight with you, I've had about enough of cryptic bloody comments and pregnant pauses this evening already."

Oh artist, watch your mouth with this one. Don't don't tell him about me. The connection as very bad. The voice sounded scared.

[Calenestel]

Amanda Sharpe

Answers sounded very good right now. She had some ideas about what might have happened to them. The most disturbing one topped her list being "vampires". That one sounded daft. No, entirely, completely mad. But it fit, especially with her hypersensitive sight and hearing and the obscure hints from this Father Spine, God help her. That comment about them being kin... Sighing deeply, a gesture much more potent when one doesn't exactly breathe, the redhaired woman nods wearily. "I figured as much, really. I'm coming. Some answers would be nice."

[Nanoblack]

Llaars

Llaars gestures toward the downed partygoers. "What do we do with them?" He face seemed remorseful but his body was tense like he was ready to pounce. After another moment of sickened silence, he steps forward, ready to follow Spine.

[Ichneumon]

Responding to Llaar's comment, Father John adds indifferently: "Don't worry about them. They'll be fine."

You all follow him to the chapel nearby. Although it isn't far, he constantly urges you to walk faster and he looks nervous, looking left, looking right, like if he was expecting an ambush or something.

It's a clean, graffity and litter-free, old building, but it seem in need a lot of repair and upkeep. The door hangs strangely on the hinges, making the front of the chapel look lopsided, and the lawn around it is in desperate need of a mow. The sign out front reads: "The sheep who know God need not fear the Wolf- Mat. 10:16"

Father John leads you around the back of the building and unlocks a door there. He ushers you inside and leans out to look carefully around the parking lot before closing the door. You hear a faint sound from far away, like a car door slaming.

Father John turns around, looking worried. He motions you all to sit down in the plastic chairs in the room.

You seem to be in a small room, used for Bible school. Posters with inspirational photographs or cute drawings and Bible verses adorn the walls, but judging from how faded and frayed they are, they haven't been changed in years. The linoleum tiles in the floor are cracked, and although most of the room is clean, the corners are filthy. A tarnished silver crucifix hangs over de door through which you just entered, and it wobbles precariously as John shuts the door.

"I don't know how much time we have," he says. "I can answer some of your questions - Im sure you have many." He sits down and pulls a rosary from his pocket. He plays the beads between his fingers as he waits for your questions.

[Calenestel]

Amanda Sharpe

As they enter the church Amanda almost expects to be blasted by holy energies or a bolt of lightning or something. It's almost anticlimatic to simply be led into a room like this, almost identical to the one she had gone to a little as a child. Carefull in her movements the redhaired woman takes a chair and sits down, staying on the edge of her seat like she expects to have to run away at any moment, or would want to.
"You can start out with telling us what has happened to us? I don't think I have a pulse... I know I don't have to breathe unless I want to talk. And we... w-" Drawing a heavy breath, she collects herself before continuing. "We drank the blood of those poor people! What?! Are we... vampires... now?" Her voice had raised a little as she went on, but it dies away at the end. Still she keeps her eyes on the old priest, daring him to lie to her.

[Ichneumon]

With a soft, slow and calming voice John answers: "Yes, you have become vampires, cursed by God to never know daylight ever again and drink the blood of human beings, for eternity until the day of judgement. How this came to pass is one of God's great mysteries, but be certain that some other vampires- we call each other Kindred - took notice of you and passed his curse along, embracing you into this existence." First he looks at Amanda, and then the others.

[Nanoblack]

Llaars

These answers weren't as satisfying as he had initially hoped. "But why out of all the people in town tonight would the vampires choose us? And why not just off us? Why leave us to become vampires?" So many questions had flooded his mind as they walked. He had no idea what being a vampire entailed other than what he had seen in movies, so why didn't he feel uncomfortable in such a holy place?

[Ichneumon]

He sighs. "That's a good question. You see, every city has a Prince, the eldest and most powerful Kindred in that city, who upholds the order and law. Kindred society is very ordered. It must be, if we are to survive. Our Prince is a fierce, resolute and if you ask me, draconic, woman, Joan McJames. She forbids this kind of behaviour. I wouldn't know why anyone would do this to you and leave you."

He caughs a little and changes his position in the chair, laying down the rosary on the table.

"You see. The punishment for such behaviour is severe. Because it endangers us. We must stay hidden for human kind or else they'll hunt us down. They must not find out about us. We call it the masquerade."

[Gull]

Malcolm, off balance and more than a little numb from the events of the evening, retreated into the mode of behavior that had served him best all his life: sneering indifference.
"Vampires. So tell me, Spine: why did we bother legging it all the way out here? Why didn't we turn into bats and flit through the night?" He twirled a finger in the air. "And why haven't we burst into flames, for that matter? You know what other group of people hold other people down, drink their blood and hear voices?" He leaned over and placed his index finger on the table. "Crazy people. Psycho killers. Lunatics"
He leaned back. That didn't explain why he didn't have a heartbeat or breath, but one thing at a time.

Hah.
Hahahahahaha.

[Calenestel]

Amanda Sharpe

She hated being right. She really, really did. Few good things ever came from her being right. She opens her mouth to ask about how they could be in a church, mostly to keep herself occupied and away from the more disturbing conclusions of being right. But then that familiar looking man speaks up and she ends up glaring at him. She didn't like his tone, she could understand not wanting to admit to being... what they were... but she really disliked being called mad. "Yeah, crazy people don't have a pulse either, real common that," she scoffs before turning to Father Spine. "He... does have point though. Why can we be here? And shouldn't we be able to... do stuff?"

[Trenchfoot]

Maks

Maks had spent the last several minutes saying nothing, and keeping a close attention on John Spine. He had every reason to mistrust the man who appeared so suddenly after they all awoke to this condition. Convenient events are like cocaine for the paranoid. He had been showing these signs of nervousness, and Maks was catching each one easier and easier.

This Catholic had begun relating their situation to them. The two points that stood out the most to Maks was the 'lack of time' and the role of other vampires in their creation. Someone made them what they were, and then disappeared. Then this man had appeared, and now wants to tell them what happened.

Worse, he was a religious figure. If anyone had a talent for embellishing the truth and misrepresenting facts to conjure belief and faith, it would be a man just like this.

Maks lays a hand very briefly on the black guy's shoulder, as if to say 'Relax'. The woman had a question of her own. Knowing that Spine had willingly opened himself up to the deluge, Maks goes ahead and throws in his own loaded questions, knowing that having them at the end of a barrage would make the effect all the easier to see.

"Who are the vampires that passed the curse along to us? Were you there in the park to meet them?"

Short, sweet, and double-edged...

During my brief idle time, Maks has been analyzing this John Spine guy. Making a Perception + Investigation roll to make more sense of him. Character analysis, clues to his motivation, any physical things that stand out. In general, just using my skills to look closely at him.

[roll0]

[Gull]

Malcolm looked over to the woman who correctly shut up called him on his bull****.
"Considering you were the one going on about hearing other people's heartbeats, I don't know if I'm ready to take your word on our shared perceptions, lady."
He looked at the priest. "Vampire or whatever, most importantly, what are we going to do about those people we attacked? They give our descriptions to the filth and we're getting sent up."

[Calenestel]

Amanda Sharpe

Giving Malcolm a quick, rather irritated glance, Amanda grumbles "Well, feel at your own, buggered neck, then." But she doesn't raise her voice or press the point, more intent on the priest and what answers he might have.

[Nanoblack]

Llaars

Llaars remained, tall and dark, looming over the others. He didn't speak because the others were already asking the important questions. Now all he had left to do was listen.

[Ichneumon]

John stays quiet when the questions of the the young kindred begin to escalate. Although he tries to hide it, it's obvious he enjoys watching the dispute between them.

"That's a lot of questions."

"How it's possible that the dead aren't really dead? That's a question I think only God can truly answer, Amanda. "

"There is much we don't know about the nature of vampirism. Some of us can see or hear with perfect clarity, to the point even of reading minds. Others can disappear from view entirely, effectively becoming invisible. Some can turn into bats and wolves. I've even heard tales of Kindred becoming as mist or swaying their direct enemies to their sides with a glance, but I have never dared to attempt such feats. Understand that any power you wield is either stolen from the living or granted by Satan, so using such power carries risks to your soul. That's also why crosses and other religious objects repel us, unless we keep our souls pure of sin. This last thing doesn't apply here, as this is my domain and the Lord has been merciful."

"I-i eh.. don't know who it was that embraced you... I j-just re-turned from my..eh midnight Masses and found you there by... accident. Yes, by accident. I don't know who they were."
He looks kind of put off by the question, and it looks like he's hiding something.

"And you don't have to worry about the people you attacked. It's unlikely they'll remember much of you and we've got people at the police station who can make sure papers get lost et cetera. Everything will be taken care of, the prince will make sure of that. I expect you'll meet her soon. That's why I brought you here, to prepare you for your inevitable meeting with-"

You hear a clock strike one somewhere, and Father John pauses in mid-sentence. He turns his head as though listening to something outside, and then stands up: "Don't resist," he says quietly "You might be able to fight you way free, but they'll catch you anyway. It's best if you go with him willingly." Before you can ask him what he means, a loud knock sounds at the door.

John opens the door and moves out of the way to allow another man into the room "Hello, Frank." The man doesn't reply. He's wearing leather pants and a white shirt, as well as a gold cross. His head is completely shaved, but he has a very young face. He looks perhaps 20 years old, but as he bares his fangs, you realise he too is one of the Kindred and could conceivably be much older. A flare of fear flies up within you, much stronger than you've ever felt. He points at the four of you and says with a voice, broken by too much alcohol and smoking: "You'll have to come with me."

Malcolm can hear the voice in head say the following: "Best to do as he says. Things could get nasty with the prince, but things will be worse if you resist. Don't worry, if you have further questions for the priest, you can always return. He was at least speaking the truth about those midnight masses, father John does give them here almost each night."

[Trenchfoot]

Maks

Maksimilian listens only to the answer to his own question, ignoring the rest. The religious creature had revealed much in three brief sentences.

Maks keeps his ideas to himself though, realizing that he, the big guy, the black man and the girl were products of a crime against this Prince being. Their lives, or unlives if half of what this man said was true, were goods purchased with the counterfeit money of broken rules.

"Wonder if they kept the receipt."

Maks sees the priest hear something, and his eyes quickly turn to the girl. She had mentioned a bizarrely heightened hearing before, but it appeared that she did not catch what stirred the priest at the same time; her reaction was slightly delayed.

"That could mean anything."

The appearance of Frank told Maks even more. The priest had stated earlier that they hadn't much time, and clearly, this was what he had been expecting. Though Spine claimed that he didn't know the vampires who had embraced them, or that they were in the park, he did know that this man was coming to claim each of them, proving the rest a poor lie once and for all. The Priest had made no calls from the time that they had seen him, and had pressed no secret buttons underneath any tables as far as Maks had been able to tell. This man Frank, presumably sent from the Prince, knew he and his unfortunate comrades would be here at this church... likely because the Priest had been tasked to gather them.

"Too damned much, too damned fast."

Maks rises slowly, feeling the old scratch of the new, unfamiliar addiction still crawling under his skin.

"Alright." is all he says.


Only assuming Amanda hears nothing, as it isn't expressly mentioned in the post. If her heightened senses do hear something, and she shows a reaction by turning her head, I'll edit my post. Otherwise, I think it's safe to write it this way.

[Ichneumon]

[Sorry, I forgot to mention something about what Amanda hears, thanks for reminding me!]

Right before Frank came in, Amanda hears the sound of a man walking on gravel, coming nearer and nearer. However she hears it a few seconds after John turned his head, indicating that either his hearing is superior to hers or that he responded to something else.

[Calenestel]

Amanda Sharpe

The priest really doesn't say much. Much as most priests, she guesses. But what he says, and what he seems not to say tells her rather a lot actually.
She has never been much of a believer in the Devil. God? Certainly, in some form or another. But a stage villain with cloved feet, horns and a tail? Hardly. Not the corporate suit with too slick hair and good deals either. So she takes John's words about these strange powers being Hell-born with a whole lot of salt. It actually rather intrigues her. She has always liked new experiences, new rushes. And while she knows that the price will prove hig there is a slight... exhilaration as well. It's like a small part of her can't wait to see if she can turn herself into a bat and fly over London at night.

He clearly lies about not knowing anything about their... creators... that's for sure but she stows that away for later. When she'd have time to properly think things through. He would likely not tell her anything right now anyway.

Now the most interesting part is the talk about the Prince. A woman obviously. The thought about a woman prince makes the corners about her mouth twitch slightly. It's clear to her that the Prince is the one running the show in London. At least among the "kindred", and the journalist part of her wanted to learn as much as possible about the Prince. Knowledge is power after all.

Then the Frank-figure arrives. She heard him come, but not until after Father John had already alerted them to his coming. And that made her wonder about the priest's abilities quite a bit. Frank, she studies openly. From the shaved head to the boots on his feet. Now, that one makes me really start to believe that we are vampires. He might as well have been straight out of an Anne Rice novel.
It's a fascination mixed with fear though, and when he looks at her she can't help but flinch. She glances at Maks as he calmly accepts the man's order and she gives him a slight nod. Things were moving so fast that it almost made her head spin now and she was glad for his steady, seemingly reliable calm. "I will come as well. But I guess it wasn't really request, was it?" She manages a weak smile towards the youthful vampire.

[Nanoblack]

Llaars

The large man began to grow irritated once it became evident the priest was hiding things. He wanted so badly to rain retribution upon whoever brought this curse upon him, but the people who truly deserved his ire were nowhere to be found. Maybe if he lived through the night, he might return to interrogate John about his turning.

He turns toward the door when the knock rang out, but avoids eye contact with the newcomer as something seems off about him. He feels insignificant in the presence of the man, but his strong will for defiance keeps him standing tall even when being stared in the face by someone far superior.

Once everyone begins to move, Llaars has a brief moment of hesitation before joining them, without a word.

[Ichneumon]

[I'm skipping time a bit, assuming a bit on how you behave during the following moments, for moving to one scene to the next, if you feel it's wrong or if you wanted to do something else, please say so. You're free to do whatever you want after all. If this were a session in real life, it could flow naturally, but the pbp nature, might make this a bit awkward etc.]

Frank responds to Amanda's remark with a silent friendly smile. Although he seems rigid and resolute, he does, if it weren't for the fangs, look like a regular nice guy. The type you could share a beer with at a bar.

"Good, it seems none of you will try to escape or attack me. That's very good. The last time I had to collect neonates ended a lot uglier with lots of casualties. I'm Frank by the way, Frank Orfelio. I'm the sherif in town, so to speak. Make sure every thing goes as the Prince wants it to go." He looks honest.

He looks at John,"We have to hurry a bit. I'll speak to you soon, John."

Outside you notice a large van parked at the front of the chapel. The windows are blinded, darkened. "I know this must be very new and confusing to you, I know I was very scared when I got embraced. The Prince makes it a rule to meet every new kindred in town so that's where I'll take you now, to the Prince. I also assume she'll have a couple of questions concerning your embrace."

He opens the doors in the back of the van. He smiles friendly and bows, a bit flamboyantly: "Ladies first."

When you all enter the fan you notice there are seats in the back, 4 in total. Allowing you all to sit relatively comfortable. You can't however from the back see the driver's seat or anything that happens outside. If any of you object, Frank tries to reassure you, "It's only because we can't have you already know the exact destination of your journey. This van is used for all kind of bussiness and we can't have everybody know the location of the Prince. Everything is darkened so that the van can be used to transport kindred during the day. Don't worry, this trip won't take long and after you've all had a talk with the Prince I'll return you to where you want to go."

The entire journey takes maybe half an hour. Franks drives fast. If you try to talk to Frank, he doesn't reply. (Likely he can't hear you from the front of the car).

When the car stops you can hear the door of the driver opening, Franks getting out and walking away from the car. You hear a weird sound, likely produced by someone lowering garage doors. Franks opens the doors of the car and you find yourself in a small garage. There's not much in the room except for the van, a few chairs and a closed door. The door opens and another man enters. He's old. Almost completely bold except for some long hairs running over his face in a rather disorderly fashion. He too is a vampire. He wears a suit, but he somehow doesn't look very smart and snappy in it. He twitches with his head and arms, constantly "turning" his head like crows do when they seem to be thinking. He mumbles in himself, completely ignoring the neonates and only paying attention to Frank.

Franks to the characters: "This is Standish, he's the Prince's servant. He'll bring you to her. "

Frank to Standish: "Hi, Standish. These are the neonates I told you about you can bring them to mrs Mcjames. Will you?"


Standish: "Neonates you say? Yes, yes, I'll bring them to her. I will" He wicked smile appears on his face.

Standish gazes at each one of you: "Can you hear the voices too? Can you...hear them?"

Frank whispers to Llaars: "Don't pay too much attention to Standish, he's quite insane."

"I'll be here until you return."

[Trenchfoot]

Maks

As the van speeds down through unseen streets, Maks briefly wonders if the others in the vehicle with him can hear his mind turning. He imagines it might sound like one of those cheap removable hard drives, whirring and spinning with an ugly mechanical grind.

Maks was still operating under the assumption that the Prince, Frank and the Priest had prior knowledge of their existence, but maybe what they knew was spotty. He had two explanations for why the female Prince might need to ask them questions; She didn't know the full details, or she wanted to see how much Maks and his comrades actually knew. If the second were true then the Prince, just as the Priest, could explain the truth however she saw fit.

"Ah, you don't know? Then let me tell you how the world works, in my own words and with my own spin."

Whatever the Prince had in store, it began with these servants of hers. Frank the 'Sheriff', the local Priest, and Standish, who had the appearance of an American Wild West Undertaker. Maks was starting to see a theme. Perhaps the Prince was some kind of corrupt governor, ready to steal land from the Native Americans with crooked contracts in exchange for beads and whiskey. What did that make he and his comrades, then? Desperate vigilantes, looking for somewhere to water their horses, but finding only convoluted tales and hidden motivations?

Maks ignores Frank's warning about Standish. He had met a few people who were... off in the past, but they were often more straightforward and loyal than people without headcolds. Maks looks at Standish, completely serious.

"If I said I did, how would you know I was telling the truth?"

[Calenestel]

Amanda Sharpe

She decides that she likes this... sheriff. He is friendly, even courteous and while he obviously has some kind of clout, he doesn't beat them over their heads with it. A nice enough chap, really. When she climbs into the van she even flashes him a warm smile. Hopefully she can start making a few friends. She had a feeling she would need them.
The comment about the Prince having questions worried her however, and she bites her lip as she thinks about it on the all too short trip.

She knew so close to nothing about this Prince that it might as well just have been nothing. And this creature wanted to ask them questions? Father John had said that she was harsh, even draconic, and really didn't like "this kind of behaviour". Did she know they were just... turned? Or did she think them new arrivals? Father John had known but she wasn't so sure about Frank... But she knew nothing that would help her bluff her way through the coming inquiry: no other vampires than the priest and the sheriff, certainly nothing about this sheriff...
Amanda realized she was thinking in cirkles and sighed audibly, shaking her head. But she couldn't stop fretting about it.
The only thing she could decide as they arrived was to wait and see. God, she hated it!

Standish... him she likes decidedly less. There's obviously something wrong with him. Obviously. But aside from him seeming stark, raving mad... well, he just felt... unpleasant. And she had always followed such feelings. In the garage she keeps back and she keeps quiet. When standish looks at her she simply shrugs, completely at a loss about what to say.

[Gull]

Malcolm was ready to sass Fetish Cop Dracula, but decided to hold his tongue. He had a history of throwing down with bald white blokes, growing up in the East End, but this seemed neither the time nor place. Besides, Gay Count Orlok didn't look like the BNP type.

He remained mostly silent during the van ride, as did the voice. He was busy thinking about what he alone had been told: this Prince they were going to see was dangerous, very dangerous, and things could go very badly for him. It was then he decided to go with the whole vampire rhubarb. If he was wrong, then he was clearly mad and there wasn't much to be done about it. If he was right and was indeed a vampire, then that would present its own problems.

His opinion of the legions of the night wasn't helped by the new one introduced to them. Looking at Standish's shabby suit, he unconsciously checked his own cuffs. "Cor, does being a vampire mean I'll have to start dressing poorly now too?" He was about to follow up on the remark when he heard what Standish said about voice. "Wait, what did you say about voices? he asked, his head snapping around, face suddenly blank.

[Nanoblack]

Llaars

The car ride was dark and brooding, completely unlike the warm, breezy trips he used to take with his sister. Llaars sat forward with his fingers laced and a frown on his face. He thought about the casualties from the last pickup and how powerful Frank must be to have lived through such a situation. He worried about all of the things he took for granted that he'd likely lose in his new state. The worry made him sick and the lurch the vehicle mad upon their arrival didn't help to ease his stomach.

The sight of this "Standish" only worsened his forecasts of his own fate. The fact that Frank decided to whisper to him, no matter if it was only on a whim, managed to deepen his paranoia. "Are we supposed to hear voices?"

[Gull]

Malcolm's head whipped around to stare at Laars.
"You don't?"

[Calenestel]

Amanda Sharpe

"Um... No? Well, not aside from your guys, voices of course." She knew that wasn't what any of them meant, but she couldn't not make that joke. After all this serious business it felt good. Still, the impish grin on the woman's face soon melts away and is replaced with a serious grimace, one eyebrow raised. "You know. Most people don't really hear any voices..." ...not sane ones anyway. This all makes her wonder a bit about Malcolm. She knew she recognized him from somewhere.

[Ichneumon]

"Should you?" Standish starts to laugh, hard and maniacally. "Of course you should! If you're of the right clan that is."

The voice in Malcolm's head, saying joyful and in a rather victorious manner: "That's right. I'm the gift you received for being of the Malkavian clan. All clan's are special, but we... we're the most... special of all!"

Standish seeing the look on Malcolm's face: "Hahaha, it seems at least one of you is of the right clan..."

He points his finger to all of you, "Many think we Malkavians are just insane, but really, insanity and true vision, are really two sides of the same coin."

"Now, follow me."

He opens the door and leaves the room, automatically assuming you follow him. Frank wave/winks you good bye, opens the front door of his car, sits down, and starts reading a book that lay on the dashboard.

Standish leads you through a long corridor. The corridor is filthy and there's a cloying hint of death and decay in the air. Old white wallpaper, some places it turned yellow. There's the occasional dead mouse. There seems to have been a water leakage on multiple spots. The floor and walls are covered with dust and sawdust, and on the ceiling you can see cobwebs, the spiders long dead. At the end of the corridor, there's a wooden door. Standish knocks, you hear a woman's voice, young and confident: "You may enter!" Standish opens the door slowly, enough for him to enter and closes it quickly behind him. You didn't see much of what's on the other side, but did hear soft classical music waft from the room. You did get a glimpse though of a room decorated in dark tints of brown and red, expensive and old paintings on the wall.

Moments later, the door opens again, Standish motions you inside. A large contrast exists between the corridor and this room. The room has an expensive carpet, an enormous desk of aged mahogony. Large and likely very old paintings hang the walls, there's a large couch with velvet cushions. Soft classical music plays from an expensive music installation. There's a table with a ming vase.

Behind the desk sits a dark-haired woman with a piercing gaze. SHe is strikingly beautiful, but her beauty has an edge, like the deadly beauty of a shark or coiled viper. She wears a smart designer business suit, and she rises as you all enter the room. She lays down a mobile phone. "Greetings, my dear friends," she purs, lulling you into a sense of trust and complacency. "Please have a seat." She waves at the chairs placed near the desk. "We have much to discuss."

"Standish! Some refreshments for our guests?"

[Calenestel]

Amanda Sharpe

The right clan? That's new... the journalist muses silently. It would seem that these vampires are divided into extended families with all the rivalries that would lead to. It seems obvious that this Standish fellow considers his own clan... Malkavians? to be vastly superior. But was it a matter of choice or heritage? Was the a newly turned vampire considered a member of a certain clan by default, based on it's creator's clan or what? At least Standish seemed to believe that Malcolm was already a member of his own family. And what was her own clan in that case?

As she follows along she ponders these questions, hardly even noticing the rough surroundings until she enters the Prince's office when the contrast between the corridor and the room she now stands in suddenly crashes in. It gave her a sense of this being almost a provisory solution. A very costly one, in that case.
Then her gaze lands on the Prince and she stops dead in her tracks.
Now what am I to do? Just say "Hello, Prince! Here we are?" Hardly. Prostrate? She really has no idea about vampiric etiquette, but the titel seems to indicate that the ruler of London considered herself royalty. Chosing to err on the side of caution she curtsies deep, like in front of the Queen, even if it looks a bit strange when she's wearing black jeans instead of skirts. "Good evening, your Highness."

She called them friends, hopefully that would set the tone for the evening. Then they might not be punished simply for existing. Cautiously she takes a place on the sofa, despite it all she finds herself trusting the woman, but she's still nervous about embarassing herself for some kind of breach of etiquette or another.

[Ichneumon]

:smallconfused: She raises an eyebrow when hearing her being called "your Highness", but ignores it otherwise.

Standish leaves the room through another door and the prince, looking calm and friendly at all of you, but specifically to Amanda: "I know he can be quite disturbing. He makes all of my guests nervous, but I have to keep him as my butler. He's the son of the Malkavian's clan leader, you see." She says jokingly, trying to make the young kindred feel more comfortable.

"I've just been on the phone-" she points to her mobile phone lying on her desk, "with Father Spine and he told me about what happened. I'm very sorry it did." She looks at in an empathic yet-still formal manner.:smallfrown:

After waiting a few seconds, she goes right back to business:
"You see, we normally don't embrace people and leave them out on their own to figure things out. Embracement is something we don't just do to everyone as we need to keep our numbers small, in order to protect the Masquerade." She slightly raises her voice and says in a very spiteful and angry manner: "What your sires did was irresponsible, threatened the Masquerade and shows a profound disrespect for my authority as prince of this city. I've no idea who they were or why they did it, but I'll assure you, they won't get away with it.":smallmad:

At that moment Standish enters the room again, bearing a tray with a bottle and numerous fluted glasses on it. The prince looks at Standish and with a friendly childlike and innocent tone she shouts: "Ah! The refreshments!":smallbiggrin:

Standish pours a glass of rich, red something, for the prince and each of you and then leaves the room again. He does all this in a very non-social manner, ignoring you completely and only focussing on his task of pouring the glasses and the wishes of the prince.

The prince raises her glass briefly and quickly continues:
"I make it a habit of mine to meet every new Kindred in London, especially young kindred like you, to explain to them some of the rules and customs of Kindred society and help them find their place."

If you decide to drink, you taste it is, of course, blood. It has a rich taste, but it is cold and much of what would enhance the flavor is absent.

"I understood that Father Spine had already explained to you some things about your new condition. But before I continue, maybe you already have some urgent questions?" :smallsmile:

[Trenchfoot]

Maks

Maks takes a seat in the chair on the far left, eyes scanning the Prince's desk casually. He had always believed that a person's workplace told more about their personality than their own diary. He was distracted in his observation, however. Like Amanda, Maks had begun unraveling what these 'Clans' were. It seemed to be one of the few straight facts they had been handed this night.

There was yet another wave of despair and slight frustration as even the Prince denied knowledge of their Sires. So even the "eldest and most powerful Kindred in the city, who upholds the order and law"... Even she had suddenly come down with amnesia regarding four vampires in London, her city. Could there really be that many?

As Standish brings the drinks, Maks' growing paranoia forbids him from even considering a taste. He brings it up to smell it, as he had seen highborn people do with fine wines, and puts it back down, returning to rapt attention to the Prince as she asks after their questions.

"None from me, ma'am." he intones. He wanted no more propaganda or illusions from this creature than she was surely already weaving into their heads.

[Ichneumon]

Maks inspecting her desk: On her desk lies a closed laptop. A few stacks of paperwork, a few pens, a ruler, a personal organiser and between the stacks of paper lies a paperback book called "Following the river: Water Management for dummies".

Most of her desk though is covered with a thin coating of dust and there seems to be a strange order in the chaos, as if the stacks of paperwork and all were placed there exactly on purpose. Is it possible she doesn't work here regularly and that everything in this room is just a facade, intended to give guests a certain feeling when meeting her?

[Nanoblack]

Llaars

The rapidly changing attitudes of this prince made Llaars wonder how such a position is achieved. Likely tearing out the throats of any who object, but then that brings up the question of why they were being spared... at least momentarily. Also, if they were always so on top of things, how the hell could they miss four people being "sired" in the middle of a music festival?

When the drinks arrive, he stares into his glass thinking about how crazy he had gone earlier because of his bloodthirst. Would continuing to drink make it go away or would it only make it worse? It only took a moments hesitation before he downed the contents, though not fast enough to insult their host.

"Thank you... um... Prince." His ineptitude in dealing with authority figures in the past was to coming back to haunt him. Best to keep quiet from now on...

[Calenestel]

Amanda Sharpe

The raised eyebrow makes the young woman all the more embarrased. Obviously one does not call a Prince "Highness" like among humans. Craptastic.
And yet again she is given these allusions to the clans. It was really starting to seem like belonging to a clan was a big deal. Not to mention that it was one of the few hints at order in this unknown society that she had just entered.

"Um... Ma'am, I have... two different topics I'd like to learn more about. First off: There have been several mentions about clans, the malkavian clan mainly but it has been hinted about several others. What clans are there? And is one... born... into one or does one apply for one?"
While still as polite as he can be there is now a tone to her voice and a light in her eyes that clearly shows her eagerness to learn and to find her own place in this new society. It was part survival instinct and part exploration and she actually enjoyed it. Without realizing it she downs the glass of blood in a few drafts while she talks.
"Furthermore, Ma'am. You seem to be the Head of Government here. Would You mind telling me a little more about what kind of Government that is?"
The Prince had mentioned a "Masquerade", making it sound like a REALLY important law, a Commandment, even. But that could wait. If it was as important as Amanda suspected it to be, and she had read her fair share of vampire novels to know that Secrecy usually was among the most important of all, then Her Highness would probably tell them about it at length without her asking about it.

[Ichneumon]

After hearing Llaars struggle with how to call he, she interrupt them and says: "Alright, first of all, sorry, I hadn't introduced myself yet. My name is Joan McJames. You may call me either prince or mrs McJames."

"Um... Ma'am, I have... two different topics I'd like to learn more about. First off: There have been several mentions about clans, the malkavian clan mainly but it has been hinted about several others. What clans are there? And is one... born... into one or does one apply for one?"

"Yes, you're born into your clan. You inherit it from the one who embraced you. There are many different clans, but London is predominantly inhabited by the following seven clans:

The Brujah clan, they're rebels and idealists. You've already met at least one of them, Frank Orfelio, the Sheriff, is Brujah.

Clan Malkavian, their "insight" is their greatest gift, but also their greatest burden. Not all of them are as unusual as Standish and many times they've proven to be my greatest allies.

Clan Nosferatu, disfigured and hideous, they hide mostly in the tunnels of the Underground. They are wise and shouldn't be underestimated.

Clan Ventrue, the politicians and aristocrats of kindred society. They form the pillars, the foundation for our society, and they perform this function excellently.

I belong to clan Toreador, we're society's soul and passion. The heart of kindred society.

Clan Gangrel, they're dangerous, untamed, and very close to their inner Beast.

The last clan is the treacherous Clan Tremere, warlocks and wizards. You better stay as far away from them as possible.

What clan you belong to, I am not entirely sure. Therefore it's important to find out more about who embraced you. "



"Furthermore, Ma'am. You seem to be the Head of Government here. Would You mind telling me a little more about what kind of Government that is?"

"The city is goverened by the board of elders consisting of 5 clan leaders, called primogen. Two clans, Gangrel and Tremere, don't sit in the board of elders. The others do. The board of elders selects one kindred as prince, that's me to keep the peace between the clans and make sure everything happens according to Kindred law and traditions. I'm the highest authority in London. We meet every week and all the clans have meetings every month where everybody of the clan is updated on the primogen's doings."

"There's the Sheriff, Frank, who I've appointed to enforce Kindred law and keep order at the street."

"There are 6 traditions that I expect you to follow while in my city: First of all, I expect you to respect the masquerade, you shall not reveal your true nature to mortals and make sure kindred society stays hidden. Second, your domain, your haven, your home... is yours and those within it should pay you respect. Third, you will not embrace anyone without my permission. If you do, I'm in my right to kill you and your children. Fourth, if you do create children, their sins are yours too. You're responsible. Fifth, honour another's domain and present yourself to the domain's ruler. Sixth, you shall not destroy other Kindred."

"Apart from that, I also expect you limit your feeding: You will not kill and certainly not embrace doctors or other medics. They fulfill a very important function in human society and I don't want the only heart surgeon in London to suddenly only be available at night hours." A sincere smile.:smallamused:

She sighs and repositions herself on her chair. "If you've payed attention, you'll understand that I am in my right, by Kindred law, to kill you. But I won't. It wouldn't be fair towards you and it wouldn't help me find out more on who embraced you. I'll try to find out who your sires are, but I strongly encourage you to search on own as well, but remember: When you've found them, your loyalty should lie with me."

[Trenchfoot]

Maks


"When you've found them, your loyalty should lie with me."

Maks perks up slightly after hearing this. Finally, a good statement to latch on to.

"Who else would we be loyal to, Mrs. McJames? Are there vampires who defy your rule, and turn away from the leadership of the Promigen?"

By her own words, she implied that there was... But in all her explanation of this secret vampire government, she hadn't mentioned an enemy... And no governments were without enemies...

[Ichneumon]

A smile hides her true emotions, however it's obvious she really didn't like that question, at all. Slowly and carefully choosing her words she replies:

"Of course. Your sires obviously defy me. Like them there are always other fools who oppose either my leadership or the structure of kindred society in general."

"But they will be punished and face their final deaths, together with anyone who supports or follows them in any way. You can be sure of that."

[Trenchfoot]

Maks

Maks is silent, clawed hand rubbing his chin. She had remained vague in the definition of any enemies... She hadn't even gone the usual route of using a term people can't readily identify, like insurgent or extremist. She had avoided using any terms.

Of course, she had been very clear about one thing; Anyone who dissented against her government was a traitor, and deserving of death. That included their 'Sires'. The Prince was seeking them so she could destroy them. She had also passed across a veiled threat that, should he or his comrades find their sires, they had ought to turn them in to the Prince, rather than 'side with them'.

Were their Sires part of some faction of malcontents? The assumption could be made that they were already enemies of the state... Every vampire thus far had clumsily denied knowledge of them, though facts suggested othewise... Had they been loyalists prior to their crime of embracing, and afterwards were such a shame that their Childer should be lied to about them?

Maks says nothing more to the Prince, instead looking to his comrades, hoping that they too saw what was unsaid beneath the Prince's words...

[Gull]

Ask where Mr. McJames is.
Malcolm ground his teeth together. That was cruel. It was like trying not to laugh at a funeral. He suddenly wanted to ask, more than anything, but was smart enough to realize what a gaffe that would be.
Do it!
Malcolm necked the glass of blood without even thinking about. So much was happening, but he was somewhat confused, on his guard. For being the Queen of the Damned, the Prince of the city was extraordinarily helpful.
"Malkavian. Your madman seems to think that's a fair description of me. Can you be a little more specific about this "burdensome insight?" He tipped back the last drop of blood in his glass, and wiped his mouth.
"Am...am I a crazy person in addition to being a bloody vampire? Am I going to be like him?"

[Ichneumon]

"The Malkavians have a unique perspective on the world. They do have a tendency of insanity, but if you ask me, I've always believed there to be some reason in the Malkavian madness and sometimes you need an outsider's insight to really uncover the truth, something that only Malkavian's can sometimes give. Whether or not you will eventually turn out like Standish... I'll tell you the truth, I do not know. Being Kindred is not nice. You need to adapt to your new life and the new rules that come with it, while still maintaining as much of your old identity and humanity as possible, not losing yourself to the beast...."

"This is an inner battle that constantly threatens to turn us all, not just the Malkavians, insane."

For a moment she looks at each of you and adds:

"I think we should end this meeting. I think you now have at least all the basic stuff covered and it's already becoming late. If you have any more questions, which I'm sure you will have, Frank will give you a phone number on which you can contact him and make an appointment with me if you feel the need. He'll also give you the addresses on some places where you can socialize with other kindred and learn more. If you find out anything about your sires, please let me know."

She stands up, ready to shake all of your hands. A confident, arrogant and "I'm king of the world" kind of smile on her face. :smallamused:

"Now, do you have any haven, a sleeping place, to go to?"

[Trenchfoot]

Maks

Maks rises as the Prince does. Her question after their 'havens' was surely a loaded one, but it suggested an important fact; These vampires didn't know where he lived, where any of them lived. They had only appeared on the 'Vampire Radar' late last night, when they were embraced. Though the Prince and her followers knew their sires to some degree, Maks and his comrades were completely unknown elements.

He couldn't help feeling surprised that she was letting them go so easily. She was laying baited offers on the table, of course; a phone number that they could call, places at which to socialize... The question of the haven was an offer all on its own. If any of them said no, surely she'd have a place ready for them to stay in, complete with wire taps and hidden surveillance cameras. Their phone numbers, should they be foolish enough to call Frank, could easily be traced if these immortal beings had access to the satellite technology Maks knew existed within British government and policing agencies. And the addresses for 'socializing'; they could be any number of fronts for recruiting or tasking on terrible midnight missions at the Prince's behest. Maks had a dreadful feeling that he was at the bottom of a very long food chain, and if this night was any indication, any vampire he met that wasn't one of his comrades had the right to push him around and make veiled threats until their face turned blue.

Above all, the night had Maks feeling closer to these three strangers. Though he had hardly learned their names... "The girl is Amanda, right?" ...He felt as though they were the only ones he could trust now. They too were freshly borne into this wild, mad world of fangs and blood. They too were feeling like ants among men. Hopefully... they too felt the same need to come together, to seek confidence in one another as the rest of the world coalesced into confusion and danger all around them.

Maks takes the offered hand of the Prince, shaking it firmly, and moves to the back of the room. Frank would no doubt drive them in the darkened van once again, protecting the location of this place from their eyes. He'd offer to take them to their 'havens' no doubt, an offer Maks would have to refuse. He wanted to stay with these other new vampires, to talk to them and meet them, and reveal to them what he believed. If they were duped by any of these secret offers, it would only result in clever manipulation and eventual servitude to greater powers.

He needed a chance to talk to these people alone, away from prying eyes and pricked-up ears.

[Gull]

"Suit like this, you better believe I'm not homeless," said Malcolm reflexively.
Insanity.
Insanity.
Talking to the Prince like that, I mean. You know better than that, artist.
Malcolm snapped to attention. "Thank you for your consideration, Mrs. McJames. I'm sure we all appreciate your help, it's been a...surprising night.
Malcolm shook the Prince's proffered hand, no longer surprised that her fingers were as cold as his own. He turned and began to walk out the way he came.
I have vampire syphilis. I'm going to go insane if you haven't already if I haven't already.
It was getting early soon. Vampires slept in the day, everyone knew that. He was a vampire. He would have to sleep soon.
And then get up.
And then drink someone's blood. Again.
I should handcuff myself to a guardrail and see what the morning brings, he thought.
Don't think like that, artist. The connection was good, the voice was clear. Cooing. Motherly.
I'll take care of you.

[Calenestel]

Amanda Sharpe

The answers the Prince had given her seemed to subdue the redhaired woman. She didn't seem distraught or horrified by the harshness of mrs. McJames when she demanded their loyalty over their creators. Rather she just sunk back into the sofa, processing the information, leaving the conversation to the others. She had her answers now. It was an ordered society with laws and a judicial system (even if she knew little about that), a strong government and their own customs. Now she needed to figure out how to fit in and find a place of comfort in it. But at least in a stabile society there would be the place to do it.
Siding with her creator, whomever that may be, was most likely out of the question. She didn't feel any particular animosity towards the shadowy figure who... "sired" her. But neither did she feel in any way beholden to it. No, the true power seemed to be the Prince and her way to success would go through her. Even if it meant a little boot licking in the beginning.
Well. That and finding out her clan.

As the Prince declared the audience over, she got up with the rest, curtsied again and shook McJames' hand. Realizing the necessity of playing nice with her didn't mean that Amanda trusted the Prince, however. Just like Maks she was wary of the offers of the ruler of London, she had worked -no, she was still working- at the Times, a workplace where people made a living about finding out the dirty secrets about the Government. She had heard at least about the basics of avoiding being supervised. I'll need disposable mobile for that number... And only make calls on it while in the City. But it might come in handy.
Of course what she says is: "Thank you, mrs. McJames. I do have a... Haven, as it were. I will surely visit these meeting places, and make a phone call any time it would be necessary. And I thank you for your time... and your hospitality." Meaning not killing us on the spot. But she probably knows I meant that.
With that she followed Maks out, already planning on speaking with the others about forming some kind of cooperation, one that would give them a chance to not only survive, but flourish.

But at the door she stops, turning towards the Prince once more. "Um... Prince, if I might make one last question? This... nation that we're a part of. Does it have a name?" It was a bit silly, but it bothered her not to have a name for her "nation". And somehow she doubted it was the UK any more.

[Nanoblack]

Llaars

He wasn't happy. Even being informed as they were now, they weren't much better off than they were when they awoke. "Yeah." He avoided eye contact as he spoke. He was eager to leave this place, he didn't feel like he belonged here with these... People? Monsters? Things? Whatever they wanted to be called, this Prince wasn't Llaars' ruler and he wasn't her peon.

Of the people he could trust at the moment, one was a self diagnosed headcase and the others seemed like eager beavers to be embracing this new lifestyle so readily. Llaars wasn't even ready to accept his new status as a vampire... it had to have a cure right? Wasn't there one in the movies? In the end, whatever fate was waiting for him, he would have to face himself and he'd rather not do it alone.

[Ichneumon]

"We call ourselves Camarilla."

She claps her hands: "Standish!"

Standish enters. He looks angry, moody and stern.

"Standish, escort ours guests to the van. "

Standish nods his head and starts walking in the direction of the door through which you all entered.

He doesn't speak at all and he quickly walks down the long corridor, not once looking backwards to see if you can all keep up.

He storms through the door into the garage. "Your passangers!"

Frank jumps up from the driver's seat, where he was listening to the radio, "We will, we will, ROCK YOU!"

Not responding to Standish at all he smiles when seeing you all return alive... sort of. "Great, you're back. Quickly get in, we are a bit in a hurry, one more." He says so in a very friendly warm way.

"In the back of the van you'll find a card with my phone-number on which you can always contact me if you have any questions or need help. I'd also like your phone numbers if you have a phone. You can also ask me for help. Part of the job of Sheriff is to make sure things run smoothly and young embraced like you find their way."

He starts the van's engine. "Bye, Standish. See you next week."

From inside the van their seems to be an intercom, which you didn't notice at first, (or was it really not there the first time?) with which you can talk to Frank. "On the card with the phone number is also the address of a night club in central London. The club has a few exclusive rooms for gold members, for our kind that is. It's one of the best places to socialize and do business. It's called Justinian's Plague and is run by a Ventrue friend of mine, Jake. Very nice guy, war veteran though and a bit pessimistic."

"Now, where should I drop you off?"

[I'm assuming you all either tell them where you each want to separately go or, if you wish to stay together and drop off at one point to do some things or discuss things before breaking up, tell him where he could best drop you off. Maybe it's best to check OOC between you guys what you want to do, as some of you likely want to talk and discuss things over, and you haven't had the chance yet to really introduce yourselves to the group etc. There is also room of course to ask Frank further questions. As soon as I know what you plan on doing I'll post further events.]

[Trenchfoot]

Maks

Maksimilian dutifully scribbles down the Sheriff's number on his pad and paper. As he does so, he speaks openly to his fellow 'young embraced' vampires.

"How do you all feel about a half-way point between both the church and Justinian's Plague? Preferably somewhere nearby a public area, or with an all-night cafe. That way, we can travel to both destinations if we decide to do so tonight..."

He keeps his voice free of any doubt or suspicion. This Frank character would doubtless sniff out any concerns on his part about the real intentions of the Prince and her Camarilla... Maks didn't need anyone picking up on his paranoia, unless they too shared it.

[Calenestel]

Amanda Sharpe

The Camarilla... Huh... Somehow I thought it would be something more... sinister. Oh well... Amanda hurries to follow the men and Standish while mulling over what she knew and what she still had to find out. Like her own clan, for example. Somehow she figured that it was a bad thing to be without one.

In the van, later, the woman nods as Maks suggest a course of actions. She likes what she hears, the man has a good head, that much is certain. "Sounds good. I'd like a few more answers, maybe the Father has some." He would probably not admit to having some of the answers even if he did, nothing concerning her sire for example. But he'd probably not conceal the basics about the vampires society from them. She hoped he wouldn't.

[Gull]

This was a new situation, one more dangerous than any Malcolm had found himself part of in the past. However one thing remained the same, from splitting knuckles on the teeth of BNP skins in his youth to alley knife-fights over gallery turf in the underground art world to unlife as a blood drinking psychopath in waiting: you had best have a crew about you if you intend to follow that kind of rhubarb through to the end.
"Suits me to the ground."

[Ichneumon]

Alright, guys. I think this is it. The van stops very abruptly. You hear the door of the driver open and close. Two seconds later, Frank enthusiastically opens the doors and let's you out. A very big smile on his face. "I'll release you from your cage. Be free, young Kindred!" Although he's partly joking, the optimism is sincere.

The van is parked in a multi-story parking lot. You know the spot, it's close near Kensington High Street. The parking lot is deserted around this hour of night, not even the usual prostitutes doing their business. "So, I figured this would be the best place to let you go. If you follow Kensington road..." He points in a direction. "that way, you'll get to Hyde Park and to the Chapel of Father Spine, while if you go that way..." He points in another direction. "You'll get to Kensington Church Street, if you follow that, till you reach a crossing with Baywater Road and then turn left, you'll find Justinian's Plague on your right."

"Good luck. If you have any questions or need anything, get into trouble... you have my number. Good luck on your first night free as Kindred, enjoy it and make sure you're hidden before sunrise."

He shakes the characters' hands and if none have any more questions he gets into the van and drives away again, into the night.

The night air is fresh and cold, and if you would breath in, you'd find it refreshing and pure.

[See the OOC-thread for a map of the area]

[Trenchfoot]

Maks

As the van speeds off, Maks reaches inside his coat, drawing out a pack of cigarettes and his butane lighter. With a click, the nearly invisible flame lights the end of the cigarette he pulls out, and both pack and lighter go back in his coat. He takes a drag, reflecting on the psychological comfort smoking provided him. The parking complex was poorly-lit, vacant, and right where they wanted to be; at the mid-point. Maks then looks to his fellow vampires, confident they could finally have this discussion.

"We just spent the last hour, maybe two, having some of the wildest revelations crammed down our throats... and I don't think we know each other's names."

He bows slightly.

"I am Maksimilian Zaslavskaya. It is my real name. I am wondering if I am only speaking for myself when I say I am, thus far, putting no faith in the complete honesty of any of the individuals we have met tonight... Aside from you all."

[Gull]

Is this what it was like to join a fraternity? Recollections of watching endless American movies during a brief heroin phase indicated that it was. Malcolm watched as the jovial, bald, leather be-panted Sheriff drove off.
"Bye, Rob Halford," he said as he waved briefly. He turned as the other vampire, Maksimilian, introduced himself.
"Now that," he said, "is a lovely vampire name. I'm Count Moonbrood Darkhollow. Maybe you've heard of me."
Now you're getting into the spirit of it.
Shut up.

[Nanoblack]

As he stepped out of the van he sent Frank a sort of half grin. "Be seein' ya." One he had his feet planted firmly on the concrete, he stretched his arms and back, resulting in dozens of loud pops and cracks. "Llaars." He looks strangely when Maks mentions his distrust of the information they'd received earlier. "You think they'd gain anything from lying to us? It's not like the prince was asking us to enlist or anything."

[Calenestel]

Amanda Sharpe

"Oh, yes, she was." Looking down the road, after the taillights of the sheriff's van, the woman seem almost lost in thought, not looking at the others at first and her voice distracted. Then she turns her attention back to the others and smiles in friendly greeting. "Well, she didn't exactly ask us. Rather she just told us that we were already enlisted, so I guess we are more press-ganged than enlisted." The smile turns wry as she speaks, it was very, very clear that the Prince considered them her subjects and would really not let them do whatever they pleased.

"And I think we would do best to trust noone completely. Not a one we've met so far has been telling us everything and then we must ask ourselves 'why?'." Casting a glance over her shoulder, the way the Sheriff had disappeared she admits to likeing one of the vampires she had met at least. "I'm Amanda Sharpe, as I've already told you and I'm preeeetyy certain he's Malcolm. I have actually heard of him, though." With her thumb she points towards "Count Darkhollow" with her smile turning more amused. "It's getting late. Or early, or whatever. Do you guys want to try and get some answers before turning in or should we just call it... well, a day?"

[Trenchfoot]

Maks

The Gangrel had figured that 'Count Moonbrood Darkhollow' was a false title, but as far as Maks was concerned, that was his real name. The woman among them, Amanda, had seen fit to shatter his illusion for him, but had supported Maks' own feelings of paranoia and suspicion. He gives her a respectful nod of thanks for this as he responds to her thoughts.

"I feel we have time to find answers before the sun rises in a few hours... I suggest that this ought to be the last night we spend in our actual homes. Soon, we will be followed regularly, and any place or person we visit will be forfeit to whomever may be following us. Tonight we are, for the most part, unknown to the creatures in this city... Our friends and family are free for one more night. If we link ourselves to them after that..."

He seals his lips around the cigarette, only to find that his mouth clamps down on it like the jaws of a steel trap. His decision not to feverishly attack those people earlier had, perhaps, been a mistake, and now his body was beginning to tell him so. He takes a drag on the cigarette, despite the fact that it somehow startled him when the cherry lit up. His mind snaps back to the present, realizing that his story was beginning to sound a bit off-kilter.

"If they so desired, they could use these people against us. They could break in to our houses and learn things about us. Ms. Sharpe and I are of one mind; no one has been entirely honest. Let's not give these... vampires the benefit of handing them our lives on a platter. I think we should all gather up our things and find a new place, a neutral place. I also think we should stay together, for the time being."

He lowers his claws, seeking a positive reaction from them. He needed his fears to be justified, needed to know that the version of reality he was perceiving was shared by these others... Laars seemed to have not seen the same signs he and Amanda saw, and would likely accuse the both of them of overreacting. Hopefully, Maks could convince Laars otherwise. And the Count Darkhallow... was a bit difficult to read.

[Gull]

Oh damn it. That woman was calling him on his **** again.
"I suppose you have heard of me," he said sourly. "Malcolm. Malcolm Harrow." He suddenly realized that he had indeed met the woman. "Right...you were at Sharon Ozawa's party, the one the anarchists crashed and started a fight at, weren't you? You were covering Serge's piss-poor photography, the ones that people were so offended by." He sneered, remembering. "If I never see another sepia photo of a beggar frozen to death, it'll be too soon. Tripe. Everyone got offended for the wrong reason, you ask me. Crime against so-called transgressive art."
He shook his head and listened to Maksimilian's speech.
"Where do you propose we go, mate? That something's going on is all too bleeding obvious, but do you really think that we're going to escape from this vampire network by checking into motels with false names? As has been implied several times tonight, if they wanted us dead, we'd be dead. Deader. Whatever. I was planning on going home, painting my windows black and going to sleep. What I'm worried about is getting peckish when I wake up tomorrow night."

[Trenchfoot]

"Where do you propose we go, mate? That something's going on is all too bleeding obvious, but do you really think that we're going to escape from this vampire network by checking into motels with false names?"

"Hardly. No, Mr. Harrow, I don't think that escape is a possibility. We've become billiard balls among pool championship experts. The only way to keep from getting knocked into the hole is to stick together, to not be an open target... or to be the cue ball." Maks hesitates, considering that his metaphor was a little too complex... Until he realizes that's what makes it appropriate.

"We've entered into an established government with an established hierarchy, one that our 'sires' defied. We'll be attracting attention sooner or later, and I simply think we should be prepared for it."

[Nanoblack]

Llaars

He could see the sense in the others words, but perhaps it was his naivety that was keeping him from completely agreeing with them. These people, unless they were a part of the same conspiracy they were warning him about, were his lifeline and he needed to keep them around for his own good.

"Well whatever you got in mind, I have some things to pick up from my place. You wanna lay down a meeting place and time for tomorrow night?"

What would his sister do without him? How would he continue on living like this? In truth, blindly surviving was the only thing he could do... and so he would.

[Calenestel]

Amanda Sharpe

The woman gives Malcolm a brief smile when he mentions the Ozawa event. That one had been horrible until the fighting started. It had gone from one of the most disgustingly tedious, or tediously disgusting, nights of her career to one of those times when she actually got to do some journalism. "That's right. And I was at your last exhibition as well. But I never seemed to get to speak to you." It had actually been like he had been avoiding any speaking with the press, but considering how most of her colleagues treated that kind of art she couldn't really blame him. She usually strived to be fair, and fair meant trying to look at art as if she was part of the subculture -she didn't really enjoy ballet either but would still write a resume as if she did- not many of her colleagues did that. Also, usually it was only her and people from The Sun and other Red Tops, and those buggers was just looking for their usual sensational tripe. Mentally shaking her head she pulls away from what would otherwise be a rant about the tabloids and back to the discussion at hand.
"I seem to continue to agree with you, Maks. It's not like I have any family in London to keep safe, but I'd like to be able to wake up every night and there's safety in numbers." Coming to think of it, she didn't really know that she would need sleep during the day. Dracula didn't but most vampires in most stories did. But did those stories actually fit with reality? Well, she would find out in a few hours. From what the Prince and her Sheriff had said she wasn't going to chance getting caught outside, at least. Buggerit, there was just so many things she didn't know!
"Then we'll see if we can become players instead of part of the game. Whatever game they're playing." She didn't think about billiards, she had a suspicion that it was more a game of chess, and they were pawns. "I'm of to the church again. For some more answers. Who's with me?" That nightclub seemed the most obvious choice for her, it actually sounded like her kind of place. But that just meant that she would spend a lot of time there later. No, it was better to go to the one person beside the Prince and her goons that she knew and could ask questions to without any fear of breaking this Masquerade.

[Trenchfoot]

Maks

Maks stands from where he had been kneeling. It felt like his veins were stretching thin under his skin as he did so, and the sensation was rather horrifying. Still, he keeps himself under control.

"The priest knew of our Sires to some extent, and he knew we would be in that park. I would also speak with him, but it may be too early for him to reveal his secrets."

He twitches slightly. He was presenting his opinions as facts. Granted, he had done these kinds of observations for a living, but these people didn't know his credentials. Still, he had no way to back it up unless he told them something about himself.

"I used to interrogate for the military, and I've done some private investigating jobs in the time since. I'm not claiming to be some kind of expert, but that's what I picked up from the priest."

He shrugs.

[Gull]

The priest. He does know something. And the voice doesn't like him.
The voice remained silent.
Malcolm did not.
"There's a lot that a lot of people aren't telling us tonight, but the priest seemed to be the worst at hiding it. I could give a toss about this vampire monarchy bollocks, but I do have a vested interest in who thought it would be a lark to do this to me." He paused a moment, as if thinking something through. "Hold on a moment, why does everyone keep saying we have different 'sires'? ls it that likely that five different vampires would turn five different people in the exact same spot? Of course, right, it's probably more of this Machiavelli nonsense." He shrugged. "To the priest, then."

[Ichneumon]

[OOC: I've decided to turn away from my "all black colour" NPC rule, given the fact that there are so many NPCs in this post, it would get confusing]

It's late and in your 20 minute walk to the Chapel you hardly see any person on the street. It's odd how such a big city can be so busy at one time and so deserted at another. When you arrive at the Chapel, you can see a big, black, expensive looking car parked near the entrance. The front doors aren't locked, in fact they're open. You can hear shouting from the inside:

"Stand still you spineless bastard!"

"Who did you think we are? You won't get away with this!"

"Hahahohahihahihahohahi!"


"One Of Us"
Part 2: Treachery, Trickery and Tremere

When you quietly walk to the entrance, trying to peek inside, you see the main hall of the chapel and 4 people running, jumping and tumbling. 1 of them is Father Spine, the others are new. Each of them wears a black trenchcoat. 1 is female, black and tall. The others are 2 men, one is bald and short, he other has long brown hair and a beard. Each of them are Kindred.

It almost seems like they're playing a game of tag, with the one exception that all three are trying to tag father Spine and judging from Spine's facial expressions, he's terrified. Chasing Spin through the chapel hall, they jump on tables, chairs fall on the ground, things break. The man with the beard is cursing. The woman is laughing maniacally. Spine trips over a fallen chair and looks terrified when the black woman manages to grasp his right arm and seconds later, Spine shouts in agony as his arm starts burning and corroding as if touched by something highly acidic. When the woman releases his arm, only a desiccated almost mummified husk of bone and flesh is left. Spine cries.

Spine doesn't stand up, overwhelmed with pain he just watches the other 2 come closer, surrounding him. One of them, the man with the beard starts talking:

"You know Spine, it is almost biblical, wouldn't you say so?"

"I mean, you dedicated your life for eternity to find salvation. You come to us, help us. Aid us in finding the kindred we need. We trust you. We treat you as a friend."

He turns his back to Spine and walks to an altar with a big iron crusifix. He picks up with an ease that would seem inhuman.

"You betrayed us. You betrayed the Tremere clan. Did you really think we wouldn't find out you called the Sheriff after we'd left the neonates to wake up in Central Park?"

The other two both violently take Spine's shoulders, preventing him from moving. He just watches, almost like if hypnotized. Petrified by fear.

"What's biblical about it is that... it's so ironic. You come to us, hoping to find salvation. You betray us, due to foolish loyalty to that naive toreador prince of yours. And, now, we will give you the ultimate gift. Salvation in a form that's eternal. And no one will be able to take it away from you, ever again."

The man swings the crusifix in the air above his head, like some kind of giant sword.

The woman starts laughing: "Hahahohahihahihahohahi!"

The man makes a move to Spine, and waves the crucifix around, indicating that he plans to decapitate Father Spine... using the Crucifix.

"We never show mercy, Spine. Never."

Suddenly, Spine seems to notice you. Without turning his head, but looking at you from the corners of his eyes, he just motions with his mouth 1 word very clearly: RUN.

[If you feel you would have interrupted the events at an earlier stage, feel free to say so and post accordingly.]

[Trenchfoot]

Maks

Maks had been able to keep his head through explosions, gunfights, intense arguments, broken bones... Just about anything that could rattle a person's concentration usually failed to rattle his. Even when the Grand Master Sensei of Addiction came knocking at the doorstep of his mind when he woke up in central park, he kept his head.

Still, seeing a man's arm dissolved in the grip of another stalled him for a few seconds.

He snaps out of it quickly though, bringing his prized digital camera from his pocket, using his thumb to set the dial to video, and pressing [Record]. He holds it there at his side, facing toward the horrible scene and not knowing if it was capturing anything at all.

When Father Spine looks toward them, his face a mask of fear, Maks does indeed step away from the door, ready to bolt when the others do.

Might be kind of a stretch that Maks has the wherewithal to actually take a video, but I'm counting on Calm Heart to keep him logical. If you Ichneumon, or anyone really, think this is a stretch, I'll take it out.

[Calenestel]

Amanda Sharpe

Before heading for Father Spine's haven:
The woman shakes her head slightly as the others start speaking about asking the priest more about their sires. Or their Sire, maybe. "No... I don't think that's a good idea. He wasn't going to tell us earlier tonight and I doubt he has changed his mind yet. Let's just... get him used to telling us stuff, answering our questions. We have time. Eternity it would seem." Does vampires "live" forever? Well, she was going to find out now. "Later, when he gets used to us, and we have built up some kind of... 'trust' we can get to the bottom of this. But I really think it's too soon yet."
And with that she heads for the park, along with the other vampires. Vampires. That would take a while to get used to. Along with the other Vampires.

At the church:
When she hears the screams and maniacal laughter as they approaches Amanda's first instinct was to run up to the church, storm in and come to some kind of aid. It wasn't a lasting impulse, though. She was still feeling weak and hungry and she suspected none of the others were in any better shape. Instead she snuck up to the door, just as her newfound... friends... and peered in. The sights there would have made her blanch, and probably break a hell of a sweat, if she had been alive. She still felt like screaming though, and must clench her jaws hard not to give into that instinct. The Tremere, the ones the Prince really, really didn't like. And they just... just made his arm... And they were the one's who had placed us in the park. Does that mean we're? No, at least not Malcolm... He really seemed to be a Malkavian. But her? Bloody Hell, she really needed to find out.
As Spine gestures for them to leave, quickly, the fledgling Amanda starts to back off, yanking her companion's sleeves as she goes. She really, REALLY didn't want to stick around.

[Nanoblack]

"Stand still you spineless bastard!"

"Who did you think we are? You won't get away with this!"

"Hahahohahihahihahohahi!"

Before Llaars became a creature of the night, he lived in the moment, and this one was telling him to burst in and break whoever was harassing Spine. As much as the priest had hidden from them, he had also given them guidance in their time of need. Knowing that, he moved forward with speed and purpose.



"You know Spine, it is almost biblical, wouldn't you say so?"

"I mean, you dedicated your life for eternity to find salvation. You come to us, help us. Aid us in finding the kindred we need. We trust you. We treat you as a friend."

"You betrayed us. You betrayed the Tremere clan. Did you really think we wouldn't find out you called the Sheriff after we'd left the neonates to wake up in Central Park?"

He hadn't picked up much of the vernacular from their meeting with the prince, but Llaars knew that neonate was some kind of word for what he had been turned into earlier this night. The stopped him in his tracks like a haymaker to the gut. His mouth hung open with more emotion than he'd though a vampire was capable of.



"What's biblical about it is that... it's so ironic. You come to us, hoping to find salvation. You betray us, due to foolish loyalty to that naive toreador prince of yours. And, now, we will give you the ultimate gift. Salvation in a form that's eternal. And no one will be able to take it away from you, ever again."

The man swings the crusifix in the air above his head, like some kind of giant sword.

The woman starts laughing: "Hahahohahihahihahohahi!"

The man makes a move to Spine, and waves the crucifix around, indicating that he plans to decapitate Father Spine... using the Crucifix.

"We never show mercy, Spine. Never."

Suddenly, Spine seems to notice you. Without turning his head, but looking at you from the corners of his eyes, he just motions with his mouth 1 word very clearly: RUN.
Given the behavior of these... monsters he knew that if Spine hadn't stepped in, he would be in much worse condition than he was at the moment. If these horrible people were the ones who did this to him, did they want him dead? Did they want him to serve them? Either way, he knew that his conscience... his remaining humanity would've gotten him killed around these types.

Out of all of the threats uttered from these "Tremere", one word struck Llaars particularly hard: Loyalty

The Tremere were sadistic, evil creatures, and despite any ulterior motives that the Prince might have, Spine faced their wrath to hand them over to the lesser evil. Llaars knew what to do. He had smashed in dozens of faces in his professional fights over the years, but he'd never killed a guy. There's a first time for everything, I guess...

He starts to aggressively march toward the doors with the intention to burst in and aid Spine. If anyone attempts to stop him, he's still unsure of himself enough to be convinced not to, but otherwise he's ready to fight.

[Trenchfoot]

Maks

Maks reacts instantly as Llaars moves forward. Amanda had reached out for his sleeve, but Maks could see the determination in Llaars' eyes. He had the feeling that this would be the kind of man Maks could depend on in a fight, the kind of man who would have his back in the worst of situations.

Granted, this night was different than any other. These were beings beyond their comprehension. This was a fight with sorcery and blood and monsters. Maks was unwilling to lose someone like Llaars, or any of these new comrades, to something they didn't understand. He knew Spine would die. He knew these creatures would kill him, that's what they were here for. He knew they had something to do with his existence. Maks puts the camera back in his pocket. Things were about to get ugly.

He would go with Llaars into that dark place. He would step bravely into the darkness and confront the Beasts that were within. Maks had his own monsters... Maybe he was a monster, but he would not be a monster alone.

"Let's do this." he intones, growling more than speaking, and setting his sights on the black woman who had brought acid out of her skin. Maks' felt his claws, for they were truly claws, come out to his sides, and something inside his heart tells him he knows how to use them.

Once combat starts, I'm going after the black woman, who used the Hands of Destruction on poor Spine. I've got my claws out ready to kill, right alongside Llaars. To this end, I'm rolling Intimidation against the black woman (and the others, if it's possible to roll against them all at once. If not, just one), and as I'm using phsyical show of force to Intimidate, I'll use Strength + Intimidation as outlined on page 206 of the core rulebook. Thanks to this, my Potence of 2 counts as two automatic successes.

Str+Int: [roll0]

Additionally, if it's decided that I'm going to Frenzy, I'd like to forgo the roll needed to do so. This is combat now, and I've already beaten the Beast back once. If it comes again, Maks is going to let it take over, because he doesn't yet understand it. Such is the life of a Gangrel.

[Calenestel]

Amanda Sharpe

The woman did try to leave, did try to nudge the others to leave. But Llars seemed dead set on a confrontation and when it came down to it Maks went with him, not her. Smothering an impulse to roll her eyes and mutter "Men!" the woman instead shrugs. She's fairly certain that she needs friends to survive the coming nights. Literally. And why should they help her out if she doesn't help them? With a calm she didn't know she had in her Amanda reaches into her camera bag, pulls out the snubnosed revolver and puts the camera on the ground outside. She never thought she'd actually use the thing. Especially not against enemies like this. Would it even work? But the gun shots would at least mean that someone would call the police and she had a gut feeling that these Tremere wouldn't risk the Prince's Masquerade any more than the next bloodsucker. With a determined set to her jaws the delicate woman follows her friends into battle.

Iiii don't think Amanda is going to get the guys to back down. Such is the life of a Toreador. :smallbiggrin:

[Nanoblack]

Llaars

As angry and determined as he was, Llaars still had a nagging feeling in the back of his skull. The infinitely sorrowful look on Spines face as he bade them to run was his focus. Then he risked a glance behind him.

Mak's reaffirming words and the shine of the moonlight glinting off of Amanda's gun gave him new life and reinforced his purpose. If these poor souls who had only known him for these few hours would follow him into such a grotesque scene, he knew nothing could stop him. His muscles twitched in anticipation just before he sent his full strength into the doors to the chapel.

"You want us?! Come get some!"

I'm not quite sure what to roll for any of this, so if I could instead roll in the OOC thread after proper instructions, I would be much obliged... also obligatory badass one-liner.

[Gull]

Not a day without there's drama, Malcolm thought absently. A simple errand to get some answers from, of all things, a vampire priest suddenly turned into a Hammer film. A woman who made Spine's arm dissolve. A man wielding a giant crucifix. And to think I was planning on staying in tonight.
Whatever. Sod it. He had been taking rubbish from everyone all night, and now that the big one and the other one with the claws ? were moving in to start some trouble, he decided that he might as well join in. A knife was open in his hand and he stepped into the church along with them, keeping aware of the woman with the gun behind him. Not getting too far ahead, he set his sights on the man who had neither a giant crucifix in his hand nor the woman who could dissolve people with a touch.

This is a terrible idea, artist.
"What's the worst that can happen? I'll die?" It wasn't much a laugh, but the dead man's lungs coughed once.

[Ichneumon]

With a large bang you throw open the doors of the chapel and you all four marge inside, ready for action.

What the...

The man with the cross lowers it, looking surprised.

The others look confused, looking at the man with the cross for answers. He seems to be their leader? "Tony, are they?"

"Yes, they are the neonates."

He smiles and says to Spine: "I've underestimated you, Spine."

[I'll now roll their initiative. If it is higher than 11, they get to act first and I'll post their actions after this post. (I got to 11 by taking the average of all your initiative results (13+10+13+8). So, I'll need to take the average of the following 3 dice rolls: [roll0], [roll1] and [roll2]. It's 10, so you get to go first.]

[Trenchfoot]

Maks

Maks surges forward with his comrades, feeling that inner creature surge with him. These three were predators, to be sure, but Maks and the others were predators as well. This would only end in blood!

The Russian-born had already picked ole 'Acid-Hands' as his first target. Whatever that horrible power was, he needed to neutralize it. If it required the touch of her hands, Maks needed to prevent the use of her arms.

"So be it, let's get some Luchador action in here!"

He moves in quickly, angling for an arm-lock on the smaller woman.

Initiating a Clinch. First roll is Strength + Brawl to initiate the Clinch. The next roll (plus automatic successes from Potence) is the damage I deal should the Clinch be successful. After her turn and when mine comes up again, I'm going to Biter her, so we'll see what happens, what with Frenzy possibilities and whatnot. Please keep in mind Ichneumon, if you think I'd frenzy, I'd like to do so willingly.

[Calenestel]

Amanda Sharpe

Just before they burst through the door Amanda stops momentarily. "I've got to be quick. I need to move." She knows this is a bad idea. She really knows it. But what did it matter if she ran and lived (or whatever) tonight? She still needed friends if she would survive, and prosper, in the long run. This she tells herself and desperation, and a burning sensation inside her, makes time seem to slow down. Or maybe it actually does? She can still move unhindered and she has to check herself not to rush in before Maks and Llars has even begun moving.

Stopping by the door the woman in the group raises her revolver, aims at the man wielding a huge cross as a weapon, the only one armed aside from with whatever foul magics these creatures had brought, and pulls the trigger. After all the books and movies she had consumed in her life she suspected a bullet wouldn't do much against a vampire. But a head shot is still a head shot. At least it would slow him down. So she goes for "Tony"'s head. Desperation again fuels her and she can feel her hand steadying, even as the burning sensation in her grows stronger, as does her hunger.

I just reread the Celerity rules. I need to activate it before the turn I get my extra action(s). Sorry. I hope it's all right that I posted it in the beginning of THIS post. I did, after all, mention way earlier. :smallamused:
I've deducted one blood point from my sheet (getting hungry, here).

Anyways. Amanda burns a second blood point (down to two! :smalleek:) to buff dex by one and tries to shoot Tony in the head. +2 diff. but also +1 damage and the damage is lethal instead of bashing.

[roll0] (man, I need to put some dots in firearms)

[Nanoblack]

Llaars

Llaars was powerful, and he knew it. He could be fast if he really pushed himself too. Immediately after his proclamation to these... monsters, he swiftly ran towards Tony. Once he was just outside of the batting range of that cross, he ducked down and hurled himself at his enemy's midsection. His jaw was locked and all he could think about was turning these people into mush.

I dunno exactly what I'm doing so i'm gonna wing it...
Tackle is Strength+Brawl:[roll0]+2 from potence
but it's at difficulty+1
Damage is Strength+1:[roll1]+2 from potence
Finally we both have to roll Dex+Athletics (Difficulty 7) or "suffer knockdown"
[roll2]
Even if target succeeds, their actions are all at +1 difficulty next round.

[Ichneumon]

In a flash a gun is fired and Tony screams in agony, dropping the cross, reaching with both hands for the right side of his face. "Aaaarggghh!"

[Amanda deals 1 damage]

The woman screams frightened, worried about Tony's fate: "Anthony! Nooo!"

She didn't expect Maks and doesn't have enough time to resist being clinched. "Aaah! Stop it! Please! You don't know what you're doing!" [She's clinched and you deal 2 damage.]

As you clinch her hands you feel yourself growing stronger, your senses becoming higher, yet at the same time you feel as though some kind of veil distances you from reality. The beast is taking over. [Maks starts a frenzy. You may try to resist it, but you indicated that you wouldn't.]

Tony stammers: "I... I ddemand that you-" But before he can finish, he's hit in his stomach by Llaars. "uughs..."

He falls to the ground, face down. He doesn't stand up. [Llaars hits and deals 7 damage] You feel powerful. Bloofd flows from Tony's face and you feel good. [You should make a Self-Control roll to resist going in a frenzy, it you want to resist it. The difficulty is 4 and you should roll 5 successess to overcome it permenantly in this encounter. But you can resist it each round if you roll at least 1 success, until you've scored the total of 5 successes. I'm just repeating myself here, because I'm a bit unsure about how the rules work. If I'm doing something that sounds unconventional or unfair, just say so. It isn't intended as such.]

[Calenestel]

Amanda Sharpe

Llars seemed to have a good handle on the tremere with the cross, Tony or whatever his name was, Malcolm seemed rather confident with that knife of his and Maks had already the woman under control. At least partially. For a split second, as she measured the time, Amanda feels a bit... superfluous. But she soon enough remembers the withering touch of the woman. Being in a wrestling match with her might be a bad idea. While all else looks like it's moving slower than usual she herself feel nothing of the sort. Quickly she weaves her way up to Maks and the nameless woman. Shooting at her from a distance seemed a bad idea, really. Then time suddenly lurches forward, resuming it's normal pace, but she grits her teeth, puts her gun to the woman's head and pulls the trigger again, only partially horrified about trying to kill someone.
Thus she's also partially relieved when the woman manages to twist her head aside at the last possible moment. Still off balance from the way time had shifted she can't twist the revolver to compensate and the shot goes into the nearby wall.

Attack roll, then.
[roll0]
Edit: Crud.

[Ichneumon]

Malcolm charges at the only man left standing. The bold and short man isn't quick enough to evade Malcolm's blade and Malcolm manages to stab in two times in the chest and once in his shoulder. [He deals 3 damage]

The man stumbles backwards, only preventing himself from falling to the ground by supporting himself on a desk. With an evil on his face he asks: "You like things hot, neonate?" One second later the desk bursts out into hot flaring flames. "Hahahaha!" he laughs quite insanely.

Spine moans: "No! No!"

The black woman was lucky enough to escape Amanda's bullet. For a moment though Maks seems distracted by the bullet hitting the wall and the woman uses that moment to try to escape.

[This is her turn and she tries to escape. This means opposing Strength+Brawl rolls. She has 4 points. Maks has 6, +2 from potence. I'll roll for both so as not to delay the game.]

Tremere woman: [roll0]
Maks: [roll1]

If Maks has less successes, the woman escapes.

Meanwhile, Tony lies motionless on the ground, seemingly dead.

[A new round begins now.]

[Gull]

Malcolm was an artist, but knife fighting was no art. As a talented amateur though, he hoped to one day represent Britain.
The bald man's black trenchcoat flapped as Malcolm launched himself at him. The blade flashed in the half-light of the church, and jammed into the man's chest and shoulder three times before he managed to push himself away from Malcolm.
He's taking this rather well.
You're taking on a Tremere with a knife, artist you pillock. Do try not to get yourself killed.
Suddenly the man set the table he was leaning on aflame. Malcolm found himself taken aback for a moment, brain racing with what he was going to do next.

[Trenchfoot]

The Beast Within Maks

A feral creature erupts from beneath the skin of the formerly controlled and logical man. The woman suddenly finds herself held by a true monster, his face twisted with fury! As she struggles to resist and flee this beast, she is surprised to find herself successful, escaping his grasp.

As she stumbles back though, she realizes he let her go intentionally. The creature was now free to do with her as she wished, and rushes forward once more, his terrible, slavering jaw gaping wider than possible for a normal human!


Bite attack! I do not know any bonuses to apply to these rolls while being in Frenzy. After this Bite attack, Maks' next move while under the Beast is going to be to Kiss her, if that's appropriate for Frenzy. He wants Blood, and he smells it in her veins. That will be his next action.

Dexterity + Brawl: [roll0]
Accuracy + 1 (as written in the rules for Bite)
Will deal Aggravated damage, I roll Strength. The rules give me 1 extra damage success for a Bite, in addition to my other bonuses below.

Damage: [roll1]. Added to this Damage will be 2 automatic successes for Potence, and 1 automatic success from the rules for Bite.


If Ichneumon decides a Clinch roll is needed to release her, that roll can be found below. It is a Strength + Brawl roll to release her.

[roll2]. Added to this roll will be 2 automatic successes for Potence.

[Nanoblack]

Llaars

Llaars removed himself from the pile of broken man he had just created with his shoulder. The bullet wound in Tony's forehead was gushing blood and had coated both men in a sanguine torrent. As he stood, one of his hands took hold of the cross, seemingly with a mind of its own. Soon after the rest of his body caught on to the idea and lurched toward the bearded man in the manner of an Olympic javelin thrower.

According to the throwing rules pointed out to me, I should roll Dex+Athletics: [roll0]
It should travel Str x 5 yards but is reduced by five yards for every two pounds it is above 3 with a minimum of 1 yard, dealing weapon appropriate damage.

(Not sure what appropriate damage would be so I'll roll in the OOC thread)

[Calenestel]

Amanda Sharpe

One down, one seemingly well in hand by Maks. One left. The woman turns, lifting her revolver again and takes careful aim at the last tremere. Just as Llars launches his improvised missile she fires. Again going for the head, and this time it's even easier than the first time. The fires that the creature had started made her almost recoil physically in horror. This one was clearly as big a threat as the woman with her hands.

Three shots left in the gun. [roll0] vs. difficulty 8.
I think I'm going to burn a Willpower Point here. Mainly just to try it out for the first time in a long while. But also because it seems appropriate. It's not a point blank shot (which she still bungled) so Amanda would REALLY put a real effort in this shot. :smallwink:
Damage will be rolled OOC.

[Gull]

"You like things hot, neonate? Hahahaha!"
"Are you serious? Puns?" snarled Malcolm as he flipped the knife in his hand and slashed wide at the bald man, blade jutting from the underside of his fist. He didn't even try to cut him.
Rather, it was to attract his eyes while one of Malcolm's long legs lashed out and attempted to stomp his heart.

[Ichneumon]

[A lot to do, I hope I don't forget anything, sorry if it looks a bit messy.]

The woman suddenly finds herself held by a true monster, his face twisted with fury! As she struggles to resist and flee from Maks, she is surprised to find herself successful, escaping his grasp.

Maks however catches her again before she can escape, and the woman screams as you put your teeth into her neck: "AAAAAH!"

[you deal 3 damage. A clinch roll isn't needed.:smallsmile:]

Llaars picks up the cross and throws it towards the fire-creating Tremere. Although it doesn't hit him and instead lands somewhere behind the desk, the tremere does get distracted. [I'd like to give a +1 automatic success for Amenda when she shoots him]

Amenda aims and fires. The tremere didn't see it coming and is hit. [You deal 3 damage] "Aaargh! Woman!"

Malcolm uses this moment to give the Tremere a big kick in his abdomen. The Tremere is knocked over and falls with his back right on the desk into the flames.

[Your kick was a succes!]

Engulfed by flames he screams in agony. [He loses 3 health level for being in the fire.] A lot of smoke and fire engulf and scorch his body and seconds later it is gone, completely consumed by the fire. His last painful scream fading away.

[You... killed him.:smalleek: You actually killed him...]

The fire quickly expands to a nearby chair and from a wooden column up to the roof.

Spine doesn't move a muscle, petrified he just stands there... watching the fire consume him home.. his only save haven. He only moves his mouth slowly forming the words: "This is it." "They've taken it away." "My heart."

The black woman still screams in pain with Maks the beast biting her throat. With 2 of the 3 down (and 1 killed!) she decides her chances are better at running. She tries to escape, runnning away to the exit of the chapel and if she makes it to that point, trying to run to their car: [roll0]

[Trenchfoot]

The Beast Within Maks

The predator snarls as the prey takes flight. There's no anger or disappointment in the snarl though... This was the hunt! Running got the blood flowing, made the meat was sweeter! Let the rabbit dash; the wolf was on his paws and moving... He would let the rabbit get close to its hole... just close enough so that it thought it was free, safe inside the darkness and dirt...

Then he would pounce!


First roll is Dex + Athletics for Pursuit: I'm rolling to make sure I can chase her down until just before she reaches her car. In what I wrote above, the 'hole' is the car. I'll let her touch the handle before I do the next activity (if I can catch her). As Pursuit is still a Move, it should therefore be free and not count as Multiple Actions.

The next roll is for an attempted Kiss, which is Dex + Brawl plus 1 automatic accuracy successes as per Kiss rules on page 210. Maks' empty body wants to fill itself, and as the black woman is already wounded, the smell is controlling his Beast. He's after her, and she's his prey. Rolls below.

Pursuit: [roll0]
Kiss Attempt: [roll1] +1 automatic success

If she makes the Difficulty 8 rolls to actually begin to fight back against the Kiss (if I'm successful), I might have to make some rolls to grab onto her. I'm not sure, maybe a Hold attempt will be appropriate at that time.

[Gull]

As the bald man burned like a wickerman, Malcolm, stepped back, sheilding his eyes with his free hand.
Am...am I that flammable too?
Forget the Tremere, artist. Your outlander friend is on his way to making the biggest mistake of his short unlife.
Malcolm, looked over to where the rest of his companions were. The woman he had met before and the mad biker were still there...but the paranoid one with the claws was gone, as was the black woman.
He's going to drink her down like a pint of lager. He's not my concern...but if he does that, it's going to go a lot harder for the rest of you.
And you are my concern, artist.
Stop him.

A split second of indecision later and Malcolm was off after Maks, swearing under his breath.
"We got to keep one alive!" he yelled to his friends as he burst out of the erstwhile church. He didn't realize how dumb that sounded until his second step.

"Oi! Maksimillian! Mate!" Malcolm yelled as he skidded to a stop on the street, then saw the man huddled over the form of their enemy.
Suddenly aware that Maks had claws and wasn't in his right state of mind, Malcolm slowed, unsure, shifting the knife in his hand. "Uh...alright, mate? Listen, Maksimillian, I'm going to give you God's honest here...there's a voice in my head that's telling me that you shouldn't be doing that, like there'll be consequences for drinking down one of us. And...uh...it hasn't been wrong yet?"
Not just words, artist. Touch his soul with your mind. He's mad and crazy, just like you. Reach out to him.
Malcolm didn't have time to question the voice this time. Instead he tried to do just that.
Calm down, mate. Just...stop.

[Calenestel]

Amanda Sharpe

Even before the fighting ended the fire one of the tremere's had created were starting to spread, now it was quickly growing beyond what could be contained, especially by the small group she belonged to now. Forcing herself to not shy away from the flames, and part of her just wanted to scream and bolt like a spooked horse, Amanda goes for Father Spine. The priest was nearly catatonic, obviously mourning his church but they had risked death to save him. They had killed to save themselves but in a way to save him too. She wouldn't let him die now. And let it all be a waste of time. "Father! We need to get out! I need you to come with me! COME!" Again there's something stirring inside her, this time as she speaks. It's like her usual personal magnetism, she has always had a way with words, but... almost alive. She REALLY wants to make him agree with her and her subconcious does it's best to make him understand and follow.

Trying out my last discipline (why do I get the feeling of a tutorial? :smallbiggrin:): Presence 1 (Awe).
Amanda is trying to make him follow, so I guess that might be a Charisma+Leadership roll. I'll roll both and let the DM decide how to use them:

Charisma+Performance (Awe): [roll0]
Charisma+Leadership (2 extra dice from Natural Leader): [roll1]

Edit: NICE Leadership roll.
The Presence roll has one success, affecting only one target. But since the only target possible is Spine I don't think it matters. If he wants to resist the Presence roll he can spend a Willpower. Not only will that make him able to resist for one turn, since I only rolled one sucess that's all he needs to shake of the effects completely. But still.... good leadership roll. :smallbiggrin:

[Nanoblack]

Llaars

Even though his last attacked hadn't hit, his companions had finished the fight so quickly. With the fire spreading, so did his sense of urgency, and despite the scene presented upon their arrival, Llaars still didn't have it in his to leave someone to suffer through burning to death. He had hoped this Tony person still had a pulse because he would be the only one capable of giving them any answers, especially if the feral look in Maks' eyes were any hint as the the black womans fate.

He grabs the broken man by the collar of his coat and drags him toward the door. Upon hearing Amanda plead to Spine to get him to leave, Llaars takes a step toward him, making sure he intended to force him out if he didn't co-operate.

[Ichneumon]

[I'm REALLY sorry this is taking so long. There were some really big problems with public transport yesterday and when I finally got home, I was too tired to get behind a computer.]

For a few seconds father Spine just looks into Amanda's eyes and then without saying anything, he just follows her. You get the strange feeling that it wasn't just your words that convinced him, but something different and more powerful.

Flaming pieces of the ceiling come falling down and stuff begins getting really hot. You, even though you're dead, can feel it warm your bodies. Llaars takes up Tony, still unconcscious and takes him outside.

Outside, the black woman gets to the car, touching the door handle, but just before she can throw the door open and drive away, the beast in Maks gets to her. She tries to escape..., [roll0] but fails. You... "kiss" her and taste her rich blood. [You gain 4 blood points]

At that point Malcolm comes running towards him, trying to get Maks to his senses.

Self-control: 5d10
[see result in OOC-thread]

At least for a few seconds, Maks comes back to his senses and notices what is going on.


Seconds later, Amanda, Llaars and Spine leave the Chapel. Spine still too mesmerized to notice what happens near the car...

[Trenchfoot]

The Maks Within The Beast

Finally getting a glimpse through a bloodlusted haze, Maks recoils from the black woman in his arms, hurling her aside. Somehow, Malcom's words had reached through to him, offering him a lifeline to escape the bottom of this dark well of madness and destruction. In his mind's eye, Malcom's arm was reaching down to keep him afloat in this freezing sea...

"I'll never let go, Jack!" he shouts madly, desperately scrambling for the sense of sanity to pull him out of the monster's well. There were no more enemies to fight, no more prey to hunt. Now he had to break out of the Beast that he had released!

He sinks down to his hands and knees, roaring at the pavement. He needed control! He needed to get his head under control!

Another self-control roll, trying to get back from the Beast!

[roll0]

[Calenestel]

Amanda Sharpe

There had been something behind those words. She had felt the power in them and the way Spine just followed her... it frightened her a little, but she filed it away under "useful" none the less. She'd have to experiment with it later.
Well outside the church the woman looks around. No sirens yet. That was fine with her, but they would come. Firefighters and police. If the gunshots hadn't made people call the Met the fire surely would draw them there. Hopefully they could get the sheriff there faster. Or at least in time to clean up. He, or was it the Prince? had talked about the Camarilla having their own people in the police. While the men took care of the tremere woman Amanda picks up her mobile and the card with the Sherrif's number. Quickly she dials the number, tapping a quick pace with her right foot as she waits. "C'mon. Pick up!"

[Ichneumon]

The phone rings twice before Frank picks it up, with a very casual voice he answers: "Amanda? This is Frank. What's it you were calling me for?"

[Calenestel]

Amanda Sharpe

How the fook did he know it was me? the woman thinks, hesitating slightly before answering. "Yeah, it's me. Listen. We went to see the Padre. The... tremere got there first. He's all right but there's a fire now and there might have been a bit of a gunfight... There's one down for good and the other two are out of the game for a while. I think. We kind of need your help now." She almost feels short winded when she stops her tirade. Despite not breathing.

[Ichneumon]

[OOC: You exchanged numbers. It's not out of the realm of possibilities that he has number recognition.]

For a few seconds it remains silent on the other end of the line. Confidently and calm: "Remain were you are. I'll be there in 5 minutes. Don't worry." He hangs up.

The tremere woman notices you all coming towards the car and she cries in fear: "I surrender, but please keep me away from him!", pointing at Maks.

[Trenchfoot]

Maks

The Gangrel remains on the sidewalk, twisting and clawing at the concrete. He is dimly aware of Amanda calling someone, and then the woman spoke. The taste of her was still fresh in his mouth and God did he want more of that...

He looks up at her wounded form as she backs away, and the Beast within him feels a bit of pride in her terrified reaction. The pride helps somewhat to calm the creature. A hunt well-ended... Yesss, that would put the creature away.

Another Self-Control, hopefully enough to bring me back up to speed.

[roll0]

[Ichneumon]

With the pride of a successful hunt: enemies destroyed or surrendering, there is nothing to be ashamed of. You feel powerful, but your hunger is gone... at least for the moment. Your mind clears up and the beast dissolves. Maks is back.

[Calenestel]

OOC:
I think I particularly meant that Amanda didn't give out her number. Oh, well... He can always have asked the Nossies. :smallwink:

"Don't worry, yeah... That's fookin' easy for you to say," she grumbles after ending the phonecall, her northern accent much more obvious for a short while. Quickly she switches the mobile off and joins up with the others, a grim smile on her face. To keep herself from panicking as well as to keep the tremere in check. Sternly she says: "Maks. You keep close to her. Don't let her move an inch. The sheriff is on his way. We'll clear this up quickly enough."

[Trenchfoot]

Maks

Still shaking off the aftereffects, Maks can only stare at the black woman for a moment before turning to Amanda. His eyes felt a little funny; his vision was blurred somehow.

"Yeah, I got it."

Then he's back at the black woman, taking a step toward her and remaining there. He flexes his arms out, letting his hands splay wide at his sides.

"The Sheriff is on his way, Tremere. You and your crew broke some laws tonight, and you can bet that if you're here when he shows up, it won't look good for you and your Clan in this city... "

Not asking a question yet, just establishing that she is indeed in trouble, and she doesn't have much time to negotiate before the Sherriff shows up. Putting her on her toes, so to speak. Rolling an intimidation below, just to make sure she stays frightened of me, and listens to what I have to say.

Str+Int: [roll0] + 2 automatic successes from Potence.

[Ichneumon]

OOC:
I think I particularly meant that Amanda didn't give out her number. Oh, well... He can always have asked the Nossies. :smallwink:

Oh... I think I overlooked that. In that case, you may assume he first asked who was on the other end.... or you may assume he asked the nossies. Whatever you prefer.:smallwink:

The tremere woman remains silent, but when Maks mentions Frank her eyes start gazing into nothingness and it becomes clear she has lost all hope and all the will to fight back.

After a minute or two it looks like Father Spine has come to his senses again and he places his hand on Amanda's shoulder: "Thank you," He looks at all of you, "Thank all of you, for coming. I'd be dead if it wasn't for you."

"I'm very grateful and I'll do anything for you to repay you and help you find your sires. I think I have to come clean to you and tell you about the real part I played in your embrace..."

He hesitates and adds in a soft voice so that the tremere woman wouldn't hear him:

"B-But f-first, before Frank arrives, I must ask-ask you not t-to mention anything about that video tape. If he or the Prince learn of it's content or my role in all of this, they'll kill me."

[Gull]

Malcolm sat down heavily, letting out a sigh reflexively. He drew out a handkerchief and wiped the thick blood off his knife, then threw it into the burning church. Thumb to lock, dull edge of blade to the side of his leg, roll wrist, click shut and back in the pocket.
"We just dusted someone to save your ass, 'Father'. Don't make us regret it by jerking us around some more. After all," he said, gesturing idly towards the burning church, "there's always room for one more in hell."
Aren't we sassy all of a sudden.
"I'm tired. I'm tired of being lied to and all this vampire bollocks." He paused.
And apparently now I'm thinking out loud.

[Trenchfoot]

Maks

Maks nods somberly to Spine. With the Sherriff on the way, things just got uglier. Spine's involvement in their Embrace was the whole reason why the Tremere sought to kill him... And the reason why Maks and the others defended his life. Of course, as with most problems, Maks found a way to spread it out, and make it a solution instead.

He stalks over to the black woman once more, gripping her by the front of her shirt and speaking to the entire assembled group.

"If the Prince learns what really happened here tonight, we all know that everything will just get shot to sunshine. She'll kill Spine, bust you Tremeres, and probably kill us as well just to clean up the whole damned mess. No matter the reason for our Embrace, it was against the blasted laws, and I'm sure the Prince would have no problem executing each and every one of us if she learns the whole truth."

He turns to the woman, trying to put the smell of her out of his mind. His vision was still blurry, but it seemed clearer when he was looking at her neck.

"This little 'attack' never happened, my darling. There was some kind of altercation, and a fire started. That's how your little 'pyro' friend lost his life. We're all friends here, got it? I'm sure you'd rather this stay a secret anyway..."

He leans in closer to her, audibly smelling her hair and skin. He knew it was creepy, but he wanted to do it, so why not? He begins speaking directly into her ear.

"As soon as I get to a computer, I'm uploading this little video to a secure server. Every week, I'll input a code that keeps that video locked away. If a week passes and I don't, because some wizard burned me in my sleep, it'll autosend to the Sherriff, the Prince, and even her bat**** manservant."

He turns to Spine, shaking the woman a little.

"That'll mean your end as well as theirs, Spine. I know you kept your secrets for a reason, and we thank you for allowing guilt to force you into the right decision, but I won't be double-crossed by anyone."

He turns to his companions then.

"I hope you all are in agreement with this. I still don't trust any of the Camarilla, but we have to tell the Sherriff something to get him off our backs. If the nature of our Embrace is enough to get a church burned down and turn partners against each other, we certainly don't want the Boss finding out. Someone'll have to come up with a good story on how this fire started, and why there were gunshots."

And finally, back to the wonderful present in his arms.

"How does this sound to you, acid-hands?"

[Calenestel]

Amanda Sharpe

Looking at the female tremere with disdain Amanda isn't sure what to do with her. "I would be happy with letting the Sheriff take care of her. If we play our cards right any effort she makes to sell out Spine, or us, will just seem like lies to save her own skin. But if you really want to help her out, then all right. But there will be reports about gunfire, there's no way we can hush that up on our own." The redhead woman stops to think a little, listening for sirens while she waits.
"How about this: we headed back to Spine since we met him earlier and he seemed like the one to ask more about the facts of being a vampire... a kindred. You know, more about the clans, the Camarilla, how to behave formally, more about the laws. and so on and on and on. Seemed he had a visit from a trio of tremere, any reason can do. One wanted to speak with a priest or something. Well, "Pyro" went completely off his rocker when we turned up and tried to torch us. We defended ourselves and the three of you-" Amanda pauses for a quick glance at the tremere still concious. "-helped him since he's an old friend, not because you had anything to do with any scheme of his."
Making a heavy sigh, she's still not over such mannerisms after only a night of being dead, she shakes her head. "It's not perfect though. It's... too convenient that the only one who really were after us happens to be dead for real. But the only alternative I see is selling of the lot to the sheriff and make sure we're 'above suspicion'. And since you lot got thoroughly beaten maybe, MAYBE they will let you go with a slap on the wrist. After all. You got bested by a bunch of vampire babies. " That last part was cruel of her, she knows that and the smile she flashes shows it to boot. But she can't help it. She was feeling a little petty at the moment. Maybe it was because they had actually meant to kill her.

"Now as for you," she continues, turning sharply upon Spine. "You can start showing some good faith and tell us if you know what our bloody clans are!"

[Gull]

Such intrigue. Long term planning was never Malcolm's strong suit, so he kept his mouth shut. Acting on impulse had led him astray in the past and may have been what finally killed him, but it was all he knew.
"...and tell us if you know what our bloody clans are," yelled the redhead. Malcolm looked up at this. Clans. Right. That seems to be important to everyone.
Of course, artist. It's our identity. It's what defines us as predators. The wolf is different than the lion, isn't it? And in our case, the hyena. Malkav's brood.
The nutters.
Call us what you like, artist. You can't pick your family.
Malcolm looked up at the reporter woman.
Then who's she? If these identities are so important to us, then how can the rest of them live without it?
Then why don't you look closer, artist? Help your friends to live.
Malcolm did that. His perceptions suddenly broadened, and he lost himself in the vision.

[Ichneumon]

The anger in Amanda's voice seems to have touched Father Spine, as if he suddenly became aware of the torment that the uncertainly and confusion Amanda is going through, and it almost seems as a burden on his own, blaming himself: "Child, I am sorry... I will tell you all I know. I know you you..." He points at Maks, "are Gangrel. I also know who your sire was." (He is still looking at Maks) "An old friend of mine, named Katsako Otuma. The other sires I don't know personally and your clans are unknown to me too. I'm sorry, Amanda."

"Again I am very sorry this happened to you and I will explain everything, the motives and details, all that I know. Preferably also tonight, as soon as possible, after we have dealt with the Sheriff..."

Meanwhile, Malcolm closes his eyes and when he opens them again, everything is different, colours are more clear, smells are more... determined. Although you can't really say everything goes in slow motion, you just become more aware of the system and meaning of everything around you, especially the other kindred. [I figure you enjoy writing the dialogue between you and your mentor, so I'll just leave it up to you to describe the eyes of chaos. You succeed and find out the clans of all the party members and the clan of the other kindred. The 2 Tremere are, indeed, Tremere, and Spine is a member of the Ventrue clan.]

Spinde doesn't pay any attention to Malcolm and continues: "I think that's a good idea, we should indeed tell something like that to Frank when he arrives. I propose the following: We can tell him that Arthur, Tony and Clarissa were friends of mine and payed me a visit. I've been seen in their company for the past few weeks, so that would be a logical reason. We got into a little struggle about money. Arthur had given me money a few months ago. I had considered it a donation for the church, he however had seen it as a loan and came to collect it back. Tony and Clarissa supported him. Things escalated when they saw you, as you arrived in the middle of a very heated debate and they assumed I had called you for back up. Things turned to really bad and that's how my chapel..." He turns his head towards the chapel. flames and shadows flicker through the windows. "burned down and guns were fired."

He turns towards the Tremere woman: "I assume you will keep up this story, Clarissa? I'd say it is also best for you if the prince and the other primogen don't find out about what really happened and the involvement of the Tremere clan? I'm certain the Prince will punish you, but not to severely, as she doesn't want to cause much more trouble between her and the Tremere clan if it can be prevented."

In a soft scared and angry voice, Clarissa answers: "I'll stay to my story, Spine."

[Gull]

He was everything and nothing at once.
His perception expanded to encompass first himself, then those around him. His point of view disappeared entirely: he was complete perception.
Now you see. You've finally opened your perceptions, artist. Now you see.
He (and that pronoun seemed pointless, as "he" was no more than perception, no less than omniscience) saw.
The reporterAmanda was still moving, but so slowly. He could hear her anger. He could read her blood.
Look at her, artist. Look at every moment you spent in each other's company. Our clans make us different from one another, in many ways, and when you see like you are, you can auger the signs that no one else can.
He saw. He saw the subtle, infinitesimal way she moved just a little too quickly, every single motion with the barest, tiniest hint of fast-forward. His mind, his memories and open book, he compared every moment he had seen her, like a collection of frames, analyzing them endlessly. The way her eyes lingered on a painting in the church, the way Spine obeyed her command wordlessly.
You're seeing the patterns that can tell you what she is. Your clan is your blood, your Blood and your family. There are shared traits between them, shared abilities that someone, like us, who knows how to look will be able to see.
If you look close enough.
His perceptions suddenly shifted focus, a blur that made him want to vomit in its suddenness (if he had a stomach, if he was not a being of pure perception and thought). It was the big, Lemmy looking one. He was different. His blood read different. Where the woman was graceful, mercurial in the hints of her blood, he was powerful, physical. Where she was as a cobra, quick and hypnotic, the man was a wolverine. Fast. Tough. Strong. Enraged. He could taste the rage barely contained, buried just deep enough to be forgotten.
In their differences, they are beautiful. Their clan shapes the predator they are and the predator they will become. Just like you, artist. While the cobra locks eyes with her prey and strikes like a heart attack, while the wolverine rages and tears until his enemies are no more, the hyena capers and gibbers and spins his mad tales. That is your fate, the part that someone decreed for you. You need to accept your role, seer-artist.
Rage. Identity. How dare she tell me that b
Malcolm suddenly came back to himself. He jolted, the way that you do when you dream of falling forever as his perception shattered, slamming back to that of two eyes and two minds rattling around in one skull.
"Toreador," he croaked. He pointed to Amanda, then to Laars. "Toreador. Brujah. And I'm the hyena."
He coughed and stood up.

"Malkavian. The seer-artist."

[Calenestel]

Amanda Sharpe

When Spine started with saying "I'm sorry" the dissapointment was like a punch to the guts. She needed what she was. Not because she thought it actually made her... different... than she had been, she was still herself. No, she wanted to know what others would expect of her and whom she could see as possible allies more than others. Everyone so far had acted like blood was so much thicker than water, and that meant that it was. She didn't expect every clanmember to be her instant friend. Not even one, actually. But if they all felt that clan was important, then that was her playing field. Having her last hope of finding her clan out dashed was a grieveous blow to her plans to survive and flourish.
She hardly even heard the rest Spine said. Maks was a gangrel. In closer contact with his "inner Beast", the Prince had said. A savage, "dangerous and untamed", but obviously not an unthinking animal. He was a sharp and clever one. And civilised, more or less.
The suggestions about what they should tell the sheriff is met with a few curt nods while she mulls the situation over. She listens and files it all away for later, but mostly she's just thinking about how to figure out her place in the social "game".
Then suddenly Malcolm starts speaking, anouncing her clan as well as Llar's! Just like that!

Sharply Amanda turns on him, her eyes wide with astonishment. Or shock. "How?... How do you know?" He was a malkavian, a lunatic. But the prince had called them proven allies and had hinted at strange insight. Did he know? Toreador. Now that opened up a lot of possibilities. She would be expected to be the "heart of kindred society", a socialite obviously. But more importantly: she was of the prince's own clan. It wouldn't mean much of course. For now.

[Gull]

"I saw it."
He stretched, trying to make some sense of his fugue.
"You covered art for the paper, love. You know as well I do: it's all perspective."

[Trenchfoot]

Maks

Maks soaks up the deliberations, desperately trying to transform the animal of his mind back into the machine that it once was. Gradually, it does so, but Clarissa remained in his clutches. Amanda had developed a clever cover story that all parties agreed to, and Malcolm was revealing powers of perception that impressed him. Llaars as well was remaining calm and impassive throughout all of it; a steady port in a raging storm.

His face returns to Clarissa, reading the lines on her skin as if they were a fascinating philisophical dissertation.

"We are going to want to meet with your boss at some point, Clarissa... I know you and your clan will be watching us, so whenever he is ready to talk and discuss what happened here, let us know. We spoiled your plans, saved your enemy, and killed one of your own kind. I'd rather not leave that wound open with those you are in service to..."

[Nanoblack]

Llaars

The fight was over and everyone was standing outside the burning chapel discussing how they could cover their asses once frank came. Llaars didn't listen. It wasn't that he didn't care, it was because he was a fighter and his role in this had ended. He was a protector of a pack of wolves that were far from defenseless, and now they were putting on their sheep costumes so they didn't get shot when the rancher came to check on his herd.

He was barely knocked from his daze when the quiet, weir- Malcome nearly went into a coma and blurted out what their clans were. Despite how important it was to the loud wom- Amanda, the news merely made him chuckle. What would he do when Frank showed up? Do vampire clans behave the same way as families did for the living? He didn't want to risk disembowelment after an awkward hug with the sheriff so he would continue to stand and watch and leave the deception to the experts. Or maybe he would pay closer attention to Maks, he seems like he knows what he was doing.

[Ichneumon]

Clarissa's face remains motionless as she listens to the intimidations of Maks, just like some animal watching into the lights of a car, to afraid to make any motion whatsoever.

Spine reacts surpriced when he hears Malcolm's discorveries: "I... I guess that's no longer a secret then. Good, that gives you at least some ..."

He stops talking when a police car comes racing towards the chapel. A cloud of dust and gravel flies up when the car comes to a violent stop. Three men quickly exit the car, all of them dressed as police officers. All three of them are kindred. You recognise one of them, it's Frank. The other two are big and muscled, you've never seen them before. Frank glances at the the chapel and at the kindred gathered in front of the Tremere's car. With an angry, school teacher-like voice, he says: "What's going on here?" He doesn't look happy and doesn't look as calm and tranquil as when you last saw him. :smallmad:

[Trenchfoot]

Maks

Maks quickly releases Clarissa as the police car approaches, and pulls his cellular telephone from his pocket. Opening up a notepad function, he takes down the following information:

The make, model and license plate number of the Tremere's car.
The ID number of the police vehicle, and possibly what station it originates from.
The names on the uniforms of the three Kindred policemen, including Jack. Though they may only be last names, it would be helpful.

Otherwise, Maks remains silent now, allowing the elder Kindred, and those more able to make this story believable, to do the talking.

[Gull]

Malcolm shrugged ingratiatingly.
"We were just coming to visit the man of the cloth here, when I guess we stumbled on a little misunderstanding and things got out of hand. One of their lot went proper mental and lit the place up. I think they were arguing about money or summat?"
He shrugged again, then looked to the others. "We tried to get everyone out sharpish, but the one who started the fire, with his bloody hands I might add, went up like tinder. I'm sure the Father and his friends can tell you more."
Long term planning wasn't Malcolm's forte, but when it came to impulsively lying and placing blame on others?
He was a champ.

[Calenestel]

Amanda Sharpe

When the sheriff arrives Amanda first feels relief. Soon they could forget this whole debacle and get back to organizing their new existance. But the man's flaring temper changes all that. The worst part was that he sounded much angrier than he had over phone. Had he been putting up an act to make sure that they stayed? If so why? In all this wasn't good. It was a relief that Malcolm sticked to the story as he spoke up. Deciding to help the malkavian out, and hopefully fast talk the sheriff a little with the truth they had fabricated she nods vigorously. "Yeah, they were here for money. I think the pyromaniac, or maybe him," she says pointing with her thumb towards the torpid Tony. "was owed a lot of it from Father Spine. And when we got there they thought it was a set up."

Helping Malcolm and hopefully we can combine our successes (it's actually an example in the Core rulebook about the DANGER of combining for fast talking (a botch from one character can bollox the whole attempt) so it should work. :smallbiggrin:

[roll0]
Edit: Sweeeeet... :smallamused:

[Ichneumon]

Maks
The make, model and license plate number of the Tremere's car.
The ID number of the police vehicle, and possibly what station it originates from.
The names on the uniforms of the three Kindred policemen, including Jack. Though they may only be last names, it would be helpful.


It's a good expesive looking car. [OOC: I'm not good at car models, not going to pretend]. You remember the license plate. You remember the ID of the police vehicle. It comes from the City of London Police. The names of the police men seem to be: L. Lawrence, T. Gauthier and F. Orfelio.

Frank seems to calm down when he hears your explanations, and seems to buy it. "Right... You've done well calling me. Very well.", he says to you neonates.

Turning towards Spine, a little less angry, but still not entirely friendly: "I want some answers, John. I though these Tremere were your friends"

Spine hesitates: "They were, it's just a big misunderstanding, you see. A while back Arthur had made a big donation for the church. That's how we got connected a few months back. He wanted the eh... the money... he wanted the money back, because..."

He seems to hesitate, not knowing a good answer.

[Trenchfoot]

Maks

The Gangrel flips his cell phone closed, and looks at Spine as the man falters. If he or his partners stepped in now, it would only heighten the Sheriff's suspicions. Instead, he looks over at Clarissa, nonverbally urging her to say something. She knew the character of the Tremere in question, and could better explain why the fire-man had failed so utterly.

In addition she, as much as any of them, should want the Sheriff to believe their story. She knew what was at stake...

[Gull]

"He never even got around to saying, did he? Stupid bastard starting lighting things on fire as soon as he saw us come in, him and his mates." Malcolm threw his hands up, exasperated. "All we bleedin' wanted was to find out more about being vampires from the Father, and we get all this aggro! Bad enough I'll never see sunlight again. You try being a bloody painter who can't use natural bloody light anymore!"

[Ichneumon]

"Right, I see...", :smallannoyed: Franks looks at at the neonates.

Obviously trying to help, Clarissa adds: "Arthur's only still living relative died a few days ago and he wanted to have the money to pay for her funeral, yet he was too proud to admit it. He only told me. I didn't even know he still had living family until he told me she'd died. That's why he came back for the money. He had drunken a lot, due to the loss, and so did we for that matter, he wasn't very stable. When he saw those neonates, he just jumped to conclusions and burned down the church."

Spine, staying in characters and inspired by the lies of the other kindred, reacts surprised to Clarissa: "What? I didn't know he had lost family!" Slightly angered he adds: "If I'd known about that, I would have gladly given him the money.":smallfrown:

Frank sighs, obviously being very annoyed by how needless and pointless this conflict seemed to have been.:smallsigh: "Okay... John, do you have any haven you can sleep till tomorrow night?"

"What? Oh yes, don't worry about that, Frank... and Frank, I know things got way out of hand, and laws got broken and such, but, given that Arthur, , died, can't you let this go? I too am somewhat to blame for not understanding the needs and motives of my friends. I"

Frank waits a few seconds, looking confused at the suggestion that Spine made, then he takes Spine aside from the group and they whisper. Amanda, having heightened senses though, can hear them:

Frank:"John, are you sure it was just a personal thing, not some cover by the Tremere clan to hurt you?"
Spine:"What? No, Frank, these Tremere were my friends and although I don't trust them completely, this conflict had nothing to do with the clan and our history."
Frank: "Alright, John. If you say so."

They get back to the group. Frank, with a rather tired voice: "Alright, I want Father Spine and you, Tremere, at my office tomorrow. If he.." He points at Tony. "... if he's already awake by then, bring him too. I want to know more about what happened and why. And don't think there won't be consequences... there will be.":smallannoyed:

"As for the neonates..." Frank shows a faint smile, :smallamused:"I guess you've gone through a hell of a first night. Go home and have a good rest."

He then helps Clarissa put Tony in the Tremere's car.

He looks at all the kindred one more time and makes a movement with his hands, indicating the two guards to follow him back to the car. "Let's get out of here." :smallcool:

If he isn't interrupted by any of the players, he drives off again.

[OOC: I just want to say that I would immagine it to look rather odd how much faith Frank puts in Spine's words, but it really will make a lot of sense when you hear Spine's story. I'd like to give you the opportunity now to say a few things to Frank or Clarissa before they leave and then Spine can start his big plot exposition.:smallwink:]

[Trenchfoot]

Maks

As always, Maksimilian is noiseless and impassive. As the Tremere woman departs, he gives her a little 'hand-shot' and mouths "Be seein ya."

I dunno what to call it. That little thing where you make your hand like a gun and do a 'pow'. That's what he did. I'm ready to hear Spine.

[Gull]

Malcolm frowns as Frank's car drives away. "Be a little more obvious, mate. We didn't do all that lovely lying so's you could give a big wink with the bloody sheriff of vampire town here." He shrugged and shot his cuffs. "Whatever. So how about you start talking, 'Father'? Why were we turned, and what's it got to do with these 'Tremere'?"

[Calenestel]

Amanda Sharpe

When the lies has been swallowed, apparently without much trouble despite the priest's hesitations, Amanda moves into the background. The exchange between Spine and the sheriff made her wonder and she kept quiet and listening for the time being, prefering to let Malcolm speak and wait for an opening.

[Ichneumon]

[Given the large amount of speech in this post, I'm not going to BOLD it, as I think it would hurt your eyes too much]

Father Spine nods, "yes, but meanwhile, let's get out of here. Which direction do you need to go? It's already late and I guess it's best if we leave this scene."

... [I'm assuming you sort out where to go, walk in the direction of where your havens/homes are, or if you want to, some place else?]

As you start walking, he starts telling:

"To understand why it all happened what happened, you need to know a bit more about our current prince. Joan hasn't been prince for long, I... I think it's only 2 years ago when she became prince. Before her there was a Ventrue prince, Simon the Ghoul. Although none of the clan primogens really liked him, no one did actually, he did keep order and peace. Three years ago he was assassinated, we still don't know who did it, or why."

"Simon had to be replaced, but the primogen disagreed on who and from what clan the new prince should come. Most of the clans wanted Joan to be the new prince, believing she had proven herself by keeping the clans together when Simon was murdered and preventing the kindred in the city from destroying themselves suspecting each other of treason. Clans Gangrel, Nosferatu, Malkavian and of course Toreador agreed with them. Ventrue and Tremere didn't like it though. Clan Ventrue, obviously, preferred one of their own, but they settled quite soon, convinced by Joan's talents. The Tremere though didn't. Under Simon the Tremere clan had enjoyed special privileges. Simon had given them a lot of freedom to do their own business, and the Tremere believed, correctly, that the only prince that would allow them to keep their privileges would be a Ventrue. They objected to Joan's appointment and for about a year or so a war ran between the clans and maybe good kindred died. The Tremere wanted to appoint my mentor and sire, and Ventrue just like me, as the new prince, Richard York. He didn't have much influence in the Ventrue clan and much of the clan wasn't in favor of his appointment, but his sympathies lied with the Tremere. The city was torn apart by the struggle for power, until..."

Spine pauzes.

"Until I decided to end it all. Frank and Joan convinced me to murder Richard, and I did, betraying my sire and my clan. It ended the struggle for power and Joan managed to quickly create a new balance of powers. Although the Ventrue demanded by death, Joan protected me and convinced them to let me live, by giving them a central and powerful position in the city's newspapers and news sector. The Tremere were enraged by the whole thing and stepped out of the counsel of primogen, believing this Toreador leadership wouldn't last long."

"In the past two years, Joan's popularity has decreased. Some say that the Gangrel will leave the counsel and go rogue and some say that the Tremere are planning to take control of the city. She hasn't much friends and few she can trust completely. That's likely the reason why she was so easy on you guys, she really needs all the allies she can find. Now, about how I got involved with your embracement..."

He pauzes, waiting to see their reaction before he continues.

[Nanoblack]

Llaars

The broad shouldered titan, stood in silence as Spine told the story of Johan's rise to power. His opinion of the haggard Ventrue swayed to both extremes of sympathy as the tale unfolded. So much tragedy so fast would ruin anyone, but the fact that he killed the creature that gave him his immortality was stifling.

Sure, there was the likely chance that this York guy was some horrible monster, but from the way he put it, the murder was in cold blood. After hearing that... Llaars was ready to jump on the conspiracy bandwagon. So much about this situation screamed for him to just mind his business and go about his unlife, but knowledge was power in this vamp eat vamp world.

"Even as desperate as she is, what's the use of a handful of fresh outta the grave vampire newbies?"

[Trenchfoot]

Maks

Maks too saw the worth in learning how they fit into the tale, but Spine was clearly concerned about how others viewed his betrayal of his sire. So much guilt in one man.

Feh. Guilt is a wasteful expenditure of thought. You chose to take that action. Deal with the consequences, and continue to do what you need to do.

Still, this Kindred society in this city was clearly very unstable. Multiple sides, one gaining power, the other losing.

Maks was beginning to form a plan as Spine continued to speak.

[Ichneumon]

"You're still without any connections and loyalties to others. In the past few years most people have switched sides more than ones, and there is no way to know for certain someone isn't going to switch again. She knows this and that's why she shows that much interest in you, because you still have to choose a side."

"Right, the guilt. After I had murdered my own sire, I became depressed, consumed with guilt and without guidance. I couldn't hear the voice of God anymore." He looks up into the sky. "I became desperate, I had never felt so alone before in my life. I tried to keep it a secret, me being the kinda the religious leader of local kindred community. But some noticed."

"That's how I came into contact with the Tremere. They offered to help me find myself again, find God again. Learn to live with what I had done and find religious and spiritual salvation. I accepted their help and they were very kind to me. With their ancient secret lore and philosophy they really helped me put everything back on track. Weeks ago, they came to ask something in return..."

He looks at all of you, his voice becomes more clear: "The Tremere wanted to create chaos, anarchy. They wanted to prove to the other clans that Joan wasn't fit to rule. They had planned to create a bunch of neonates and let them lose unto the world, without much guidance. They'd likely cause a massacre, maybe even break the masquerade. The other clans would believe Joan to be unfit to keep control of the kindred and appoint a new Ventrue leader. The Tremere though didn't want to embrace people themselves, as the bond between sire and child is powerful and didn't like the idea of increasing the Tremere clan needlessly. They wanted to give the impression that in almost each clan individual kindred were suddenly turning rogue against the clan, against the prince and against the Camarilla. That's why they tried to gather a group of kindred, willing to betray their clan and the prince, from as much different clans as possible. They didn't want me, because I am a Ventrue, and didn't felt it was a good idea to weaken the position of the Ventrue clan, on whom they counted to provide the next prince. They did ask my help though. They asked my help finding a Gangrel and I pointed them to my friend Katsako, who lives just out of London. They convinced him to come to London and together with a few other kindred from other clans, who I haven't seen personally, they planned it all. Each future-sire chose his own mortal to embrace. Magically they wiped your memory of the last few hours, there are a few different ways that could be done, and left you in Hyde Park."

"As my haven was close to the spot, they ordered me to stay close and make sure everything went according to our plan. I felt guilty however, when I saw you lying there, and called Frank, hoping that would save you and ruin the Tremere's plan. It seems it worked, but they somehow found out and weren't too happy."

[Trenchfoot]

Maks

"How did you come to be friends with Katsako? I'd like to meet her, so if you have directions to where she can be found, or perhaps her phone number, I'd be gratefull."

[Ichneumon]

"Very long ago, she belonged to the coterie of my sire. Her and the coterie grew apart though because of... difficulties with her ideology She was a lot more conservative and traditional than most kindred. Because of my impartiality as a priest, she felt she could trust me and not judge her. She left London because she didn't feel at home any more in modern society. I can give you her address and directions, but she doesn't have a phone. She owns a big mansion in Darkshrine Forest."

[OOC: In this world of darkness version "Darkshrine Forest" is a big forest just outside of London]

[Trenchfoot]

Maks

Maks takes down the address and directions carefully. He would need them for later. He looks over to Spine as they walk, his expression as serious as usual.

"You realize, Spine, that you're a significant loose end in these situations. For Frank and Joan, I'm sure they'd prefer that the knowledge of Joan's ascension stay silent. You killed a kindred seeking to become Prince so that she could take his place. For the Tremere, their betrayal of Joan is just as dark of a secret. Our embrace was meant to be the beginning of chaos so the Tremere could install their own, favored Prince once more. You've become someone both sides would rather be destroyed, but that's not the only issue."

He looks away from Spine, and instead fixes his gaze into the distance.

"Based on fact and action alone, you are a traitor at heart, Spine. You betrayed your clan and your Sire when you butchered Richard. You betrayed the Prince by siding with the Tremere's scheme. You betrayed us by slithering your lies into the grass of our thoughts when we first met. You even betrayed your own faith by conspiring to loose a group of wild vampires onto innocent people."

Maks clasps his hands behind his back, head up.

"It's probably for the best that your church burned down, Spine. Your decisions show that you don't deserve to be in one, let alone claim to be a man of the cloth. If I thought you had any guts, I'd suggest you stand on top of a roof and wait for the sun to rise, but because I don't... I think you should leave this city that you've continually betrayed and never return."

[Ichneumon]

Spine takes all the verbal hits of Maks and slowly in a sad voice replies:

"You're right. I've made a lot of mistakes and each time I thought I'd change and not repeat the same mistakes again, but I do. I hate Tony's terrible puns, but he was right: I have no spine. I've betrayed all my friends and all that's dear to me. I'm worthless. What is it I stand for? Nothing!"

"I have no true friends. Like you say, all people I know would have reason to hate me, want me dead, if they'd know the truth about my actions.... even God..."

"Maybe you're right. Maybe it's best if I leave. There really is nothing for me here, but certain death."

He looks very sad, tired. Demotivated.

"I guess I just wasn't fit for vampire society. I... I'm not good at social situations, not good at maneuvering, manipulation. I'm a big Ventrue joke! Maybe I should, like you said, just let final death come to me, at last after all these years of horrid failure! Better to make one right decision in my live, than to let others kill me without dignity or honour."

[Gull]

Total mindless rage.
Artist. Calm down.
Killing anger. Destruction. Burn everything to the ground.
This anger is useless. Calm yourself.
"A diversion? You bastards ruined my life for some bloody collateral damage?" Malcolm yelled. "And we saved your life? You motherf...I'll...you're a dead man. Again."
Malcolm bit off the recriminations. The knife was back in his hand, thumb on the catch.
That's enough. Stop acting like a child.
His head snapped around and he yelled at the voice, his eyes darting back and forth.
"And what do you know about all this?"
More than you think, artist. Calm yourself. If you kill Spine, you know that Frank and the Prince will have you killed.
"So what the hell do I have to live for?"
You'll never find your sire.
Malcolm stopped in his tracks. My sire.
Your sire, who I would imagine you'd gain more satisfaction sticking that knife in than this wreck of a man.

[Nanoblack]

Llaars

Llaars' mouth hangs open, his expression almost as hurt as Spine's. Maks' ruthless words stung his eyes and made his heart heavy. How could anyone suggest death over life, even if that life was as squalid and parasitic as this one. In truth, even though Llaars didn't trust Spine, he prefer to have someone as knowledgeable as him around. Someone like that could guide them much better than any of the other monsters they've met so far. He could guide them in times of need when it would be a risk to go to anyone else.

"Spine..." That sentence started, but he knew it wouldn't ever have an ending.

[Calenestel]

Amanda Sharpe

She wasn't surprised. She really wasn't. Llars was obviously shocked and Malcolm seemed furious. But like Maks she remained calm and increasingly cold. The games he spoke about was like the darker side of politics, human politics, of the kind that Marc was so fascinated with uncovering. Where CIA and MI6 would kidnap and kill for "Freedom". Only more so. Here the lofty ideals and hypocritic excuses were stripped away and replaced with predatory egoism and cold hunger. She didn't like it, but she knew that it was going to be their game now if they wanted to survive. And she very much wanted to.
Keeping her qualms in control she looked to Maks and nodded slightly. He had a point, he really did. But he hadn't thought of one thing. Suddenly the toreador turned to Spine, drawing herself up and gathering her personal magnetism to her as she had before.
"Calm yourself, man. What would your death accomplish? You would only squander your chances of redemption as you have before. No. Stay a while longer, go under ground but stay. Teach us about this world you have helped drag us into. About the Camarilla, it's strenghts, weaknesses, politics and enemies. About what else is out there. EVERYTHING. Then you can go your own way and do what you please. Live like a hermit of the oldest church or die in the sun. What say you?"

Awe again (Presence, ftw! :smallamused:)
And I'd say: Manipulation+Leadership?
[roll0]

[Trenchfoot]

Maks

The Gangrel moves away slightly, distancing himself from Amanda's suggestion. She truly wanted to invite this backstabbing Benedit Arnold into her counsel? The Tremere might get to him again, offering him his church and his followers back, if only he would turn in Maks and his comrades. The Camarilla might come a-calling, guilting Spine into revealing their questions. If Amanda asked Spine about the Camarilla's weaknesses and politics, the Prince could use that as a justification for their purging. Spine still held a card over them. He knew their nature as pawns in a broken Tremere scheme. He could still warn the Prince about what they were, turn the Camarilla against them somehow...

His face away from the group, Maks smiles.

Who would Spine listen to? I have appealed to the darkest truths of Spine's being, Amanda. His cowardice, his guilt... I've twisted those aspects of his character, and had convinced the man to kill himself. Could your admittedly sweet voice really pull this serpent out of his own hole? Would Spine, seeing the carrot of salvation dangling above him, try once more to live correctly? Or will he do as he should, and let the rising sun erase him from existence?

[Ichneumon]

Spine takes everything in, very carefully listening to the arguments of Amanda.

Then, he just replies in tired, slow, but annoyed voice:"Fine...."

"You're right. I have at least a responsibility towards you guys. I'll help you, but I need to stay low. The Tremere will likely try to kill me, but I can hide for a few months, I'm sure. After that though, I'll end it myself. You can come to me for questions, I'll try to do what I can. Every Tuesday at 2 o clock I'll be at the entrance of the Queen Victory Cemetery if you need me. But don't think I know all the answers. There are things out there, that even we don't know about. Things that are far worse than kindred, far far worse."

After having said that, he does a few steps back, closes his eyes and says: "Thankfully, Katsako taught me one little trick that will come in handy, now that I need to stay hidden. Goodbye, children. Hopefully, you're Danse Macabre will be better than mine." After saying his goodbye he shift and turns, growing smaller and smaller. His face and hands becoming hairy, his eyes become longer, his hands bigger and bigger. A few seconds later, a small bat lies on the ground, just were he had stood, and flies away into the darkness, leaving you alone on this cold first night.

[Trenchfoot]

Maks

Maksimilian watches the little bat fly away before turning once more to his companions, his hands still clasped behind his back.

"And there you have it, friends. The final piece to be moved in tonight's chess game. I imagine we each have affairs to tend to, resting places to find and so on, before the sun rises. Shall we trade cell phone numbers, and reconvene somewhere tomorrow night? Perhaps at the park where we first awoke?"

Maks is, by no means, done for tonight, but I don't have anything major planned that will involve the group.

[Calenestel]

Amanda Sharpe

"You bet I'll do better than you," the redheaded woman smiles after the flying, or fleeing, bat. With a calm smile the toreador turns towards her companions, especially Maks. His actions when she had spoken had been rather clear. "Well, yes. I guess we all have things to take care of. I know I have. I'll take your numbers, but mine is more or less useless after that phone call to the sheriff and the whole thing with Spine. Speaking of which... You really did not agree with me, did you Maks? "

[Trenchfoot]

Maks

The Gangrel shakes his head silently in answer to Amanda's question.

"A debate for another time, Amanda. Rest assured, unless you are meeting him at that cemetery to kill him yourself, I will not be coming along." He shrugs, saying no more on the subject, and looks to Llaars and Malcolm.

[Gull]

Malcolm stuck his fingers up at the departing bat.
"Yeah, right, whatever. Bugger this for a game of soldiers." He dug in his jacket pocket and came out with a handful of tattered business cards. He hadn't been sure if it was a faux pas for an artist to carry business cards or not, but he kept forgetting his own number when off his tits and talking to birds, and it had seemed a sound investment. "If we're done here, I'm off to find a butcher's. I don't fancy pulling the psycho routine again tomorrow night and running down some poor bastards in another park. I guess I see you lot tomorrow night."
These are the people I'm stuck with.
With your way of making friends, I'm surprised they've stuck with you so far, artist.

[Nanoblack]

Llaars

"Yeah, here's my info..." He retrieves a crumpled receipt from his pocket and scribbles his number down on it. "So what's the plan for tomorrow night?" Maybe Malcom has a point about running by the butcher shop for a bite to eat, but Llaars was fine with the current contents of his stomach for the night. He needed to get home now, before the sun came out and left his sister alone.

[Trenchfoot]

Maks

"Several things. It will need to be a few days before we go and visit with the Tremere. They'll be recoiling from recent events, and the disaster that is us... And then they'll start watching us. Spies maybe, or maybe magic that we don't understand. Either way, we have some time before we'll need to talk to them."

"Tomorrow, I think we'll need to find ourselves a headquarters of some kind. A building we can work out of, stockpile our equipment, set up a computer or two... Somewhere more secure than our own seperate houses, which can easily be found. We'll also need some stuff. Aside from a knife and a popgun, we're virtually naked and weaponless in a city full of monsters we never knew existed. We're going to need some arms, maybe some flak jackets, disposable cell phones, secure internet, solidly locked doors, a car with a license plate that isn't traced to us..."

He pauses, taking a deep breath.

"We're going to need people, too. We've been brought into a game where there's one commodity in particular that rules the day. I don't know, I have some thinking to do. Good.... day, everyone..."

With that, Maks moves off down the street, away from the group.

********

For a time, he walks silently, his mind whirring with the new possibilities of this night. All in the span of a few hectic, definitely insane hours, his entire world had been turned upside down... He had been transformed from a normal man into a being that, despite any denials he might try to make, had the kind of power he always wanted. Maks enters his apartment, grabbing up his old traveling backpack and stuffing it with his various personal belongings. He scours the place, clearing away any and all evidence of his life, not that there was much there to begin with. He fully expected that someone, with enough motivation, could case the place and learn things about him he didn't want them to know.

After a time, he felt the apartment was secure, cleared. Finally, feeling a supernatural sort of exhaustion setting in, Maks made his way into the sewers beneath the city, ignoring the general muck and slime, and curling up in a dry spot beneath a culvert, well away from any possible points of light. He couldn't help wondering about the scuttling noises he heard, or the sensation that he was being watched the entire time.

[Nanoblack]

Llaars

After exchanging information with everyone, Llaars heads home. For the last time. He spends the time used to walk upstairs to think of what excuses he might use for his late arrival and his later disappearance, but upon reaching the door he sees the note Angela left him. "Got called in for a double shift, should be home later in the afternoon.
-<3 Angela

Good. He didn't need to say a thing, but he'd leave a note of his own so she didn't question why he would be sleeping in his closet today. "Too much beer. Do not disturb."
-Lar Lllrs Me

[Ichneumon]

Maks: You wake up the next morning, you didn't sleep well, due to the feelings of being watched and hearing strange sounds. When you wake up though, you find next to your head a small note:

"Hi, you must be new! Hope you're adjusting fine. You're always welcome in my haven to have a chat.

Steve,
Nosferatu living next door"

At the back of the note, you find a phone-number and e-mail address.

Llaars: You sleep without any disturbance. When you wake up, you find the home is empty and you're sister is gone, having left a second note: "Hope you're feeling better. Got a late shift, hope to see you tonight? Will be back before 12." You also find she had made you breakfast.

[Gull]

Malcolm fastened the lid of the pot of black acrylic with the heel of his hand, then fired the brush into the bin. He placed his hands on his hips and looked at his handiwork. The landlord might be pissed that he had just painted over his windows black, but he reckoned that whatever all this vampire talk was about, sunlight was probably not something he would like to meet up with.
"Bastard." One of the most promising young painters in London, and he couldn't use natural light anymore. Painting his windows with a thick coat of acrylic was as much as he could do at the moment. He cleaned the paint from his hands, careful not to get it on his rolled up cuffs, and readied himself to go to sleep. Thinking suddenly, he drew out his phone and composed a text.

SMS to Sharon Ozawa:
Alright Sharon, it's Malcolm, sorry for fading like I did on your party. I think someone put something in my drink, I woke up a little while ago with my wallet gone. Do you remember who I left with, if anyone? Let me know. XOXO.

[Trenchfoot]

Maks

Maks takes down the phone number and e-mail on his own phone, and flips the note over to write something of his own there.

"Sorry, didn't know this was your place. Yeah, I'm fresher than a newborn babe to this stuff. Will stop by next time I'm around. Hope you didn't take any embarrassing pictures of me in my sleep."

-Maks

The Gangrel rises, quickly checking his face to make sure no one had drawn any silly marker-mustaches on him. Without any time to waste, and gathering up his backpack full of the few things from his apartment, he makes his way to the park. He had to start up some discussions with his comrades about what they were going to do next.

[Ichneumon]

SMS to Sharon Ozawa:
Alright Sharon, it's Malcolm, sorry for fading like I did on your party. I think someone put something in my drink, I woke up a little while ago with my wallet gone. Do you remember who I left with, if anyone? Let me know. XOXO.

A while later you receive a message back:

"Hi Malcolm! That sucks! No, didn't see you leave. Have you asked the guy in the Star Wars costume that was with you last night? Good luck! Cheers. X"

(Just for the record: You don't remember a guy in a Star Wars Costume)

[Gull]

Malcolm scratched his head. Star Wars costume? He may not know what had happened to him earlier, but he did know himself, and he knew that he wouldn't have been spending time around someone committing social and fashion suicide at a party like that.
"I was turned into a vampire by...a nerd? I look forward to killing this person more now than ever."
He composed a new text, attempting to track down more information about his mystery little green man without seeming too eager for the information.

SMS to Sharon Ozawa
Star Wars costume? Bloody hell, Sharon, who was that? Are you letting just anyone into your parties now?

This can be sent the next night, if we're tying to get things moving, or can remain on the previous night.

[Ichneumon]

SMS to Sharon Ozawa
Star Wars costume? Bloody hell, Sharon, who was that? Are you letting just anyone into your parties now?

This can be sent the next night, if we're tying to get things moving, or can remain on the previous night.

Let's just try to get things moving, shall we?

Soon, you get a reply:

"I don't know who he was. Never saw his actual face, the mask you see. Called himself 'Vader' or something like that. He just came to the door, said he saw there was a party going on and asked if he could join in. Don't know why I did it, just felt I had to. He seemed kinda cute and lonely..."

A few moments later another another message:

"You two did spend a lot of time together talking. You really don't remember anything? He talked of such strange things. He kept calling you 'Luke', saying he was your father or at least, would become your father. He made great jokes though."

[Gull]

SMS to Sharon Ozawa
I hate the art world.

[Gull]

The microwave pinged, and Silas tossed his phone to the bed. He pulled out the bowl of blood with the tips of his fingers, blew on it for a moment, then drank it down. Coughing, he placed it on the countertop.
"Bloody awful." This was nothing like the blood he drank from those people in the park, or the flute he was given by the Prince. Compared to that, the cow's blood he had bought from the butcher around the corner tasted like something off. Luckily Old Mick knew him. It wasn't the strangest request that Malcolm had made of him, and Malcolm knew that Mick would write any oddness off as being an "artist". Granted, it was a short term solution at best, but infinitely safer than running people down at the park.
He finished off the blood reluctantly, wiped his mouth and went to his computer.
"Bastard, bastard, bastard," he muttered. He went to Facebook and started flipping through the people he knew were at the same party. Whether the vampire that turned him was dressed in nerd-drag or not, if he was at a party with a bunch of London hipsters and artists, he would be in someone's pictures.

[Trenchfoot]

Maks

Maks walks confidently through the streets of London, glad for the infamous concealing fog that rolled in from the river. Tonight, more than last night, he felt like a real monster; that boiling hunger seemed stronger now that he had woken up from his slumber. He was glad that he hadn't succumbed to Grand Master Sensei like his comrades did in the park, but he was definitely seeing the necessity of... feeding.

Feeling quite like Jack the Ripper, he begins scanning the foggy streets for a woman of the night, someone who could be missed. He knew the bite didn't kill, and it seemed that making another vampire took quite a bit more work than just a simple drink. Still, he didn't want to grab some poor bloke just because he could see them. He'd rather get his jollies from someone whose profession was giving jollies... So to speak.

Of course, if there weren't any hookers around, he'd grab some poor bloke anyway. Maks would be an equal-opportunity biter.

[Ichneumon]

Another day, another night. Full of new chances.

It's a dark night. The park is filled with litter and garbage. Most of the park though is deserted and streets of the city almost look empty compared to the masses there were there during the music festival.

The park is lit by the full moon, shining on the three of you as you arrive to discuss your further plans. Each of you has had a while on your own. Either staying away from family or trying to find more information about who your sire was. Malcolm's Facebook search didn't amount to much. Amanda is late, but you all feel it is time to start discussing, planning and conspiring.


"One Of Us"
Part 3: Conspirators

[Trenchfoot]

Maks

The Gangrel, now sporting dark shades to cover up his eyes, picks out a picnic table away from the main path in the park. He figures that, if they are seen, folks will just assume they're having a drug deal, and stay away. He's poking away at the keypad on his phone, fine-tuning his notes on everything that has come to pass thus far. The main topic on his mind are the Tremere, the primary link to their sires, and their next logical step in the quest to answer... "Why the hell are we?"

He has a cigarette that he hasn't bothered smoking, its ashy end snaking out in his fingers. He found that fire still bothered him, even the tiny spark at the end of his lighter, and though smoking still had the psychological benefit of being calming, there wasn't any rush to it anymore. It just didn't hold a... 'candle'... to biting people. Odd, that.

[Gull]

Malcolm strolled leisurly through the park, hands in his trouser pockets, flick knife in its usual spot. While in the past he'd had some trepidation at the thought of wandering the park in the dead of night by himself, while sober at least, he found himself simply enjoying the night for what it was. After all, his thoughts from the previous evening came back to him.
What's the worst that can happen? I'll die?
Besides. He had already killed a bloody vampire, a mere mugger or skinhead hardly held the threat it once did. He had no doubt that he could polish off some human menace or food, artist.
Oh, so you're back again, are you?
I never left. Not you, artist. I'll always be with you, count on that. The voice was coming through clearer than the last night, the connection bearing hardly a crackle at all.
About the only thing I can count on, it would appear.
Then maybe you should count on your coterie more. Remember the burning of the church. They were there for you, little artist, just as you were there for them.
Malcolm snorted. What in hell is a coterie?
He blocked out the voice as he approached the picnic table where the man with the claws sat. He stopped at the table, hands still in his pockets.
"My word, Maksimillian," he said. "Are you seriously wearing sunglasses at night?

[Nanoblack]

Llaars

After several attempts to eat and drink the food he was accustomed to, Llaars finally determined what was and wasn't on the menu any longer. Not quite starving enough to repeat his take down on another innocent, he instead settled on chomping on a toothpick to keep his jaws occupied. Picking up a relatively clean shirt from his bathroom floor, he steps through his door an heads to the park.

Even before he was turned, he was usually big enough to ward off any trouble, so getting to the meeting place was no problem. The skinny guy with the straight razor and the conspiracy theorist were both there ahead of him so he just sat down and sighed. "Anybody else make the mistake of tryin' to eat solid food?"

[Trenchfoot]

Maks

Maks nods at Malcolm's question. "It's so I can keep track of the visions in my eyes." He reaches up, and then takes them off dramatically, revealing that his pupils had transformed into the hour-glass shape of a goat's eye. "Also, this. I think its a side effect of getting a little carried away last night... Either that, or I've been grazing on too much grass." Llaars arrives then, and he sits down heavily on the park bench. Maks shakes his head. "No, but I can't imagine it went well."

With the other two assembled, Maksimilian knows that Amanda will be along shortly. He figures that he might as well get some of the discussion out of the way before she comes. "So, quick recap of what happened last night. We, who were once relatively normal, according to our own definitions of normal, were chosen for vampirism by a group of renegades. These renegades were convinced, paid, or otherwise coerced to Embrace us by a group called 'The Tremere'. The Tremere pulled this off partly with the help of ole Spine, and with the intent of setting us loose in this city to call into question the authority and power of the current Prince, Joan."

He remembers his cigarette then, and takes a drag from it out of habit before continuing.

"Sadly, none of that worked out. Spine whisked us away before the Tremere could wield us like a blunt instrument. We took off from there, meeting the Sheriff and the Prince, who comprise the leadership of the Camarilla, none of whom were aware of our true nature as tools. That ends, we come back, find Spine getting his ass handed to him by the Tremere. Llaars here leads the way, which was very impressive by the way, and marches in there all guts and glory, and we all follow. Malcolm, who..." he stops and chuckles for a moment, clearly enjoying the memory. "In probably one of the best scenes of that night, just kicked the damned dude into a burning desk. Yeah."

Another drag, then he flicks it out into the darkness. Who cared about littering anymore, anyway?

"Things got ugly. The sheriff showed up, the two Tremere were beaten up pretty badly, I lost my mind... But in the end, we agreed that all parties who knew of our nature would agree to keep the secret. The sheriff is still in the dark about what happened, though he no doubt went right back to the Prince and squealed like a little piggy. The Tremere know their plan went to crap, and us and Spine are the only ones who know about their little conspiracy against the Prince. As far as they are concerned, we're better off dead. As far as I'm concerned, so is Spine, but Amanda preferred we keep him around. Her call, not mine."

Wanting to wrap it out without stealing the spotlight too much, Maks quickly finishes his recap.

"Other than Spine, the Tremere are our big problem, and our big solution. They know who our Sires are. I know mine, but according to what Spine said, Katsako didn't know the other Sires. The Tremere, who organized the rest of them, does. I think we need to go to them, and find out from them who your sires are. I don't think there's any other way to discover that." He rolls his shoulders, and puts his shades back on. "Am I on the dot about any of this, or am I just spouting nonsense?"

[Gull]

"On the nose." Malcolm shot his cuffs and sat down at the picnic table, careful to ensure there was no puke or food on the wooden bench.
"These Tremere know who made us into monsters. I'm very invested in finding out that information, but I'm guessing that they aren't exactly going to volunteer it to us, as we're not on the best terms. Firstly, because we're not fulfilling the role that they wanted us to and secondly, well, I killed one of those tossers and the you guys put paid to the other two, who were lucky to escape with their lives. Or unlives. Whatever."
He shifted. The taste of the cow's blood was still an off tang in his mouth. I'm not much one for long-term planing, but I think we'd best look at what resources we have, aside from ourselves. The Prince and her Camarilla, they're nominally our friends. For the time being at least. But from what I gathered, the Tremere are a clan, what about our own? Can we go to them for help? The Brujah, the Malkavians, the Gangrel?" He stopped to think. "Except the only Malkavian we've met seems to be a mad bastard with a terrible wardrobe, the only Gangrel we know of is the one who turned you," and here he pointed to Maksimillian, "Lovely eyes by the way, though I reckon you'll have a harder time picking suits to match now, and we don't know any Brujah other than our friend here."
Long speeches didn't suit Malcolm. He frowned.
"And what exactly is the endgame for you two, when we find your sires?"

[Trenchfoot]

Maks

"The Tremere will both hate us and fear us for what we know. I have a solid piece of evidence that incriminates them in the whole she-bang. If we offer that evidence, and the promise of our silence, in exchange for the knowledge of our sires, we're golden. We've already seen that they were willing to kill Spine for his betrayal, and for his silence on their involvement. I'd bet my own mother that they'll be willing to strike a deal for our own silence."

He falls silent for a moment, realizing that Malcolm had many viable points.

"I'm... not so sure about these Camarilla folks, any more that I'm sure about the Tremere. You're right though, that other Malkavian seemed like an invalid butler who still lets his mother dress him. If he's indicative of the other members of your clan in this city, I'd say you're on your own as far as others of your blood."

"As for end-game... I'm not too worried about it. I know where my sire is, and as far as I'm concerned, I have plenty of time to confront him. I am more than willing to help either of you find your own Sires, once we discover them. As for when I do..." He shrugs. "I'll probably open him up in several places, and see what color his guts are. The bastard left me to be a mindless tool for freaky Sorcerers, and in my book, that's grounds for getting your limbs pulled off."

He too, looks to Llaars. If Llaars hadn't been there at the church, Maks and the others might've left the Tremere to kill Spine, only returning later to use his digital recording as leverage. Based on his words and actions thus far, he was proving to be a moral compass for their group... Something they would very likely need in the nights to come, lest they risk abandoning their humanity and fully entering the world of monsters...

[Nanoblack]

Llaars


"And we don't know any Brujah other than our friend here."

Llaars rested his chin on his crossed arms as he listened intently to the conversation between the two, only chiming in occasionally. The mention of not knowing any Brujah brought forth one of the few pieces of information he had clung to since he had awoken in the park. " 'cept Frank."



"And what exactly is the endgame for you two, when we find your sires?"

Such an odd question caused him to actually raise his head to answer. "Not much left to do right now other than survive. I think Maks has the right idea as far as keepin' some leverage on hand just in case some unknown unknowns come a'knockin. Only thing on my mind right now is: How long were they watchin' us before we were turned? As much as it hurt to leave my family, having some bloodsucking S.o.B stalking my relatives to get at me has my stomach turnin'. "

[Trenchfoot]

Maks

The perceptive Gangrel nods. Llaars had someone he was worried about, someone from his past life. Unlike he, and presumably Malcolm and Amanda who had few to remember them, Llaars was clearly concerned.

"Just as we may use the past of the Tremere as leverage against them, they can threaten people we care about as leverage against us. Speaking only for myself, I have no one, but still this concerns me. I'd rather the Tremere not have any reason to after you and yours, Llaars. We now have multiple reasons to go to the Tremere. First, we'll have to determine how much they know about us. Hopefully, they simply pooled our Sires together and let them choose without supervision. If our Sires had any guts at all, they wouldn't let the wizards follow them about, taking notes on what mortals were chosen for the Embrace."

It still felt odd to use these terms, and to speak so casually about all this madness. Still, the time for discomfort had passed. It was time to do something, and learn about this world they had been... bitten into.

"Second, if the Tremere don't know about the people they can use against us, they do know who might; our Sires. Spine was explicit that each Sire chose who they were going to Embrace, implying that at least our Sires stalked us, followed us, and determined some kind of criteria for them to build us into tools of the Sorcerers. Our Sires hold many answers..." he nods to Llaars... "Answers we don't want given to anyone but us."

Maks looks up at the night sky and the moon, playfully wondering if he should howl at it.

"Once we go to the Tremere, and negotiate for the location of our Sires, we'll decide whose to talk to first. I don't think we should split up in that event; our Sires will be more powerful than we alone. Combined, we can learn what we will from them, in a manner of our choosing. "

He glances over at Malcolm, wondering if the unpredictable man had family members who were at risk, like Llaars did. If he didn't, Maksimilian hoped that he would be willing to help silence Llaars' Sire first, to ensure the safety of whoever the big brawler cared about.

[Gull]

Malcolm gestured idly. "I'm not worried about reprisals. If the Tremere or my spaceship-fetishist sire knows anything about me, they know that I'm far too self-centered to threaten with harm to others." He shrugged, irritated. "I could give a **** about the Tremere and their machinations, or at least at this point. I'm guessing they're too bloody big to go after- we might as well as try and punch out Parliament. I want my sire. I don't care if I have to burn down a whole tenement to cook his bones like I did that Tremere." Malcolm paused. "So who are we going after first? The evil wizards or the big bad wolf in the forest?"

[Trenchfoot]

Maks

The Gangrel nods. They would need the fire and violence that Malcom's voice promised. "The wizards. My own Sire is worthless when it comes to tracking down the others."

He brings out the cell phone once more, which he had been typing on and refining earlier. "Finding them shouldn't be a problem. It slipped my mind to ask that traitor Spine, but I doubt he knows where they are anyway. Instead, I have something a little more solid. A license plate number to that car of theirs. I also know what Precinct our wonderful Sheriff works at. I propose we call ahead to him, and ask him to set us up so we can get a quick trace on the car from the Precinct he has control over. Should give us a registry address, maybe even a name. It won't take us straight to the Wizard's Sanctum, but it'll at least bring us close. Maybe even to a front-guy we can squeeze for the next lead."

"I won't lie; actually getting the Tremere to talk to us without them shooting first is probably impossible. We're going to have to break more than a few necks to find out who our Sires are. As long as you two are okay with that, I am too."

He keeps the phone out, with the note in question on the screen.

"Somebody else is going to have to call Jack though. I'm a crap liar, and I don't think we should tell him why we need the trace, at least not the truth. One of you mind seeing if we can pull this off without Jack getting too suspicious?"

[Ichneumon]

Malcolm gestured idly. "I'm not worried about reprisals. If the Tremere or my spaceship-fetishist sire knows anything about me, they know that I'm far too self-centered to threaten with harm to others."

At that point, your cell phone rings. An unknown number. When you answer, you hear a deep voice: "Hi, this is your spaceship-fetishist sire. I have Amanda, and if you ever want to see her 'dead but still kicking' again, you're gonna have to do exactly as I say..."

[Gull]

"Jack? Y'mean Frank? I can talk to him, the poor bastard can't seem to sniff out a lie to save his life." Malcolm's phone rang, the opening chords of "This is the Modern World" coming from it. "Hang on, let me get this."
Malcolm's eyes widened. For one second, he was back on the bridge, walking through the mist under the yellow lights, with only a long, unending burst of static coming from the loudspeakers used by the voice.
And then he was back.
Bravado. Sneering indifference. Those were always his best weapons. Right.
"Hello, ****heel.
"I was wondering when you'd put your oar in, and was thinking I'd have to grow up without a father figure." He sneered at the phone.
"So I gather that not only have you been listening to what we've been talking about, you also have one of our number. Well, if you've been listening to me, then you also may have heard me say something about 'being too self-centered to threaten with harm to others', and that's not even taking into account that the bitch gave me a bad review back when we were still alive.
"But why don't you tell me what you want anyways, my dear old dad? I'm dying to meet you."
While speaking, Malcolm fumbled a tagger's paint marker from his pocket, and scrawled two words on the picnic table for his companions.
"SIRE"
"AMANDA"

[Ichneumon]

The man on the other end doesn't seem at all effected by your concealed threats: "Of course I've heard everything. I've got microphones and spying equipment everywhere in this park and most other places you've been yesterday. There are also some in your clothes, by the way. It was expensive, I can tell you that, but sometimes you just have to make sacrifices. You can't make the best movie ever without filming every bit of the action. And I have to say, you already are an awesome set of cast. It really has been amazing. I only had to intervine once or twice to keep things on track." He giggles.

Going right to business: "Anyway, I'm sorry to interrupt this fantastic scene, I'm enjoying every minute of it, but I want you to stop talking to that voice in your head. It's distracting. The viewers can't hear what he's saying so it doesn't make good television, especially if you're taking advise from him or her. Maybe you could do it a little bit less? Or maybe change it to a multiple personality disorder or something? Occasionally switching personalities? I'm sure that would look good on the big screen." He sounds completely serious when saying all of this.


A bit angry: "Also, about being self-centered: I'm sure your other 'team mates' will think differently about harming her, and do you really think you have a bigger chance of survival by making enemies of the only allies you currently have? You won't ignore this damsel in distress, damn you!"

"Also, I want you guys to do me a favor. There's this movie museum in London and I want you to steal a certain artifact I want to add to my collection. If you get it for me, I'll tell you were my secret headquarters are and we can meet. What do you say, son? I'm sure you can do it, the force is strong within you."

[Gull]

Malcolm's teeth ground together. He could feel fangs sliding from his gums as he became more and more enraged. "Turning me into a monster isn't enough, keeping me from the sunlight isn't enough, you have to interfere with my suits?"
This was bad. His sire knew everything that they had said and done over then past night, which meant that their childish attempts to plot against him were for nowt. And now he was ordering them around? Think. Movies. A lunatic hyena. If there was one thing Malcolm learned from the art world, it was being able to humour those from whom you wanted something.
"The greatest movie ever made, starring us. Amanda as the damsel in distress. So what am I, the reluctant hero? The magical negro? Is this turning into a heist film?" He stood up and cast his gaze about, trying to pick out where the recording equipment could be seen.
"Seems it was right what they said about Malkavians, mate." He sat back down, then thoughtfully turned the phone to speaker. "I've put the rest of the cast on. So why don't you tell us what you want, so's we can get into a nice montage?"

[Ichneumon]

Responding to the question about what role Malcolm was supposed to take, in a bit sad and ashamed voice: "No, you were supposed to be the token black guy, really."

Sounding really excited: "That's great! But first before I forget. Sorry I'm not used to this sort of business talk, you see. I must ask you guys another thing, could you maybe ehm how do you say it? Speak out your actions? I wasn't able to afford any real cameras, only microphones, so I use Dungeons and Dragons Miniatures to act out the scene, using your voices, but it's a bit hard sometimes to figure out what exactly is happening. It was especially hard to so during the fight. I know it is a bit Dragonball Z-like, but could you maybe announce and shout out your actions from now on?"

"Yeah, I want you guys to go to the 'London Motion Picture' museum, break in and steal the portrait they have of Charlie Chaplin. Could you do that for me? I'd love to hang it above my bed."

[Trenchfoot]

Maks

Hearing the man make his demands over speakerphone, combined with what Malcolm was saying on his end, Maks is dead silent. He had kidnapped Amanda? And he was making a film starring each of them... And now he wanted them to rob a museum.

A wicked grin spreads over his face. This was good. Heck, it was better than good; it was perfect. Amanda was in danger, to be certain, but her peril was offering them even heavier ammunition as far as Maksimilian was concerned.

Maks steps away from the other two so his own voice couldn't be heard. No longer caring if Frank had his cell phone number on record, Maks gives the Sheriff a call.

"Frank, this is Maks. I would like to ask a favor of the Camarilla, you in particular. I understand that you have some control over the City of London Police. I'd like you to trace a car registration for me, it should have an address, name and phone number in the system."

Maks provides the license plate number of the car, but will withhold a physical description of the car, as it won't be necessary to find the registration information for it.

[Ichneumon]

The phone is answered by Frank. You hear soft music in the background, the Beatles. "Sure, thing. Can do." You hear typing in the background for a few seconds. "The car belongs to one Stephen Meers, a guy from East-London."

He also gives you the address and phone number.

[Trenchfoot]

Maks

Maks thanks Frank, and quickly closes the phone, ready to hear the rest of the conversation between Malcolm and his erstwhile Sire. If this world was a puzzle, Maks had a craft knife, and he was ready to make his own damned picture out of the pieces.

[Ichneumon]

"So? What say you? If you don't want to steal the portrait, that's fine by me, but I won't tell you where I am and where you can come collect your toreador girl."

[Gull]

"Didn't leave us much of a choice, did you mate? We'll get your picture. In the meantime, why don't you tell us your name? For the credits, like." Talking to this creature set Malcolm's teeth on edge, especially since it mean that he was going to have to get a whole new wardrobe.

[Ichneumon]

"That's awesome! I hadn't expected you to do it!" He sounds really excited. "This rocks! Of course you may know my name. John Newsreader."

If you guys have nothing left to say to him, he hangs up, wishing you good luck and ending with "let the action begin!"

[Gull]

"Yeh, action. Right." Malcolm ended the call, and stuck his phone in his pocket. "So you lads heard that as well, then? 'John Newsreader' has the last member of our little gang, and to get her back, we have to steal the portrait of Charlie Chaplain from the Museum of Film." He stopped, sighed, and scrubbed his face with his hands. Talking to Newsreader had made him tired already. "And apparently my clothes, this park, and most places we were yesterday are kinked for sound." He sat back down on the picnic table bench. "So either of you got any bright ideas about how to get this portrait?" he asked absently as he brought up information on the museum and the portrait up on his phone.

[Trenchfoot]

Maks

Maks grumbles and swears for a moment. He doubted the area was as completely bugged as John claimed, but Malcolm could easily have a device on him somewhere on his clothes. Unless he was willing to strip and burn his beloved suit, John had easy access to whatever they said aloud.

Tapping away on his own phone, Maks writes out a long message on the tiny LED screen on his phone, and displays it for Llaars and Malcolm. If John had the kind of visual equipment necessary to see what was written there, he deserved to.

The message reads: "Doubt that he will give you directions to his actual headquarters after getting the portrait. More likely a trap for a big cinematic finale, where he kills us. Will go to the Tremere as originally planned, by myself. You two acquire the portrait to keep him entertained. I will say aloud that I am only going to the Tremere to find the Sire of Llaars and Amanda. Consider that John may know location as well. Nod if you agree."

[Ichneumon]

He doesn't seem to respond at all to Maks typing on his phone and showing it to the others, indicating he doesn't have you on visual. He hangs up, wishing you good luck and thanking you for "everything".

[Gull]

Malcolm blinked. The portrait was near worthless.
"Bloody hell, this will be easier than I thought. The thing's only worth fifty quid. I can just have my agent buy it," he said out loud.

[Ichneumon]

Even though you said it out loud, you don't get any response from your sire. So either he didn't hear it, or he doesn't want to respond (for whatever the reason).

[Trenchfoot]

Maks

The Gangrel nods, gives a brief wave.

"Now that we know how to meet your Sire, I'm going to see about finding the other ones. I'll meet you two at the museum. Take care Count Darkhallow, Llaars. Let's not keep our darling waiting."

He winces, realizing he was a terrible actor, and slips his shades back on before stepping away into the night.

As he departs the park, he breaks into a run, a powerful run, and is only slightly disturbed by the sensation that he would rather get down on all fours. By the way the buildings and streetlights were going by, he could challenge an Olympian! His backpack bouncing roughly against his shoulders, he heads for the home of one Stephen Meers, unsure of what to expect.

Off I go. I'll try and keep this quick so I can meet you guys at the museum. We'll keep in touch over the phone, of course, preferably Llaars' phone.

[Nanoblack]

Llaars

Surprised at how fast things went from bad to oddly convenient, Llaars merely pick his head up from the table to look at Malcom. "So now what? We wait for the ebay auction to run out?"

There was likely more to this whole situation that would complicate things, that's just how life was, but Llaars couldn't help but unconsciously cross his fingers and hope.

[Ichneumon]

Maks

Maks runs off.

The house of Stephen Meers is located in the more poor regions of London. Many houses are deserted and empty. Broken windows, broken street lights. Although the house of Stephen Meers looks a bit better (as it is inhabited), it doesn't look out of place in this environment. An old car with broken lights and a big dent in the door is parked in in front of the house. The small garden is filled with dead plants. The entire place has a morbid feel to it. The door is locked and their are curtains behind all the windows, making it impossible to look inside.

Amanda

You’re in a dark room. Your sit in your chair, confined with a rope. The room is barely lit and shadows move along walls.

On the walls hang posters of barely dressed video game women. There are rows and rows of DVDs and Blue Ray discs. You seem to be in some kind of movie store. Behind the cash register sits a man dressed in a “Darth Vader”-costume. Next to the cash register stands a big table with war game miniatures strategically placed in formations.The man has a big head phone on his head and has been listening on it almost constantly, doing nothing else than listening and meanwhile moving the miniature pieces on the game table.

The man in the costume hadn’t said anything to you yet. You were kidnapped by another man, that now entered the room. Judging from his build, he likely was a body-builder. Originally of Indian (from India, not Native American) descent. His hair was bleached white. He had kidnapped you hours ago. He had followed you while you were going home and after a chase of a few blocks (you even tried to escape in the london underground), caught you, dragged you into his car and drove you to this DVD and Blue Ray store. He hadn’t spoken a lot to you, refused to communicate anything informative, except “Shut up, the boss will explain things soon.”

At one point he puts off the head phones, take his cell phone and start making a call. It appears it are your neonate friends he's talking too, although you can't be certain.

When he hangs up, he first notices the other kindred in the room: “Hey, Gary!” He shouts annoyed at the white-haired kindred. “Why aren’t you wearing the costume I gave you?”

At that moment, Gary’s face shifts. It seems like he a certain kind of anger has been building up and like a sleeping volcano, he can explode any moment. He slowly walks to “Darth Vader” and, when he stands just inches before him, he intimidatingly says in slow, but very angry voice: “I’ve told you. I’d follow you. I’d help you. I’d endanger the masquerade for you. Break Kindred law for you. Kill for you. But I will not... and I repeat... not wear that stupid clothes, not wear the green face paint and certainly will not wear those plastic ears!” At that moment he takes out of his pocket 2 large green plastic fake ears and dramatically throws them on the ground.

Darth Vader responds with a trembling voice: “Fine! Don’t wear them!”

A small smile appears on Gary’s face. “Right, nice to have cleared that up. I’ll go stand guard. I won’t interrupt your business with mrs Sharpe.”

Without looking once at Amanda, he leaves the room.

Right when he leaves, Darth Vader puts off his mask. Although as a kindred he is likely much older, he has the face of a 20 year old. Skinny, a beard of 4 maybe 5 days. Generally looking unhealthy. Brown, chaotic hair. He laughs maniacally.

"I'm sorry my dear. But I had to pick you, you're the girl you see. The rules of drama clearly dictate that you should be the damsel in distress."

"I envy you, at this point in your unlife things will seem new. But I can tell you, things will get boring... fast. I didn't know what to do with this endless time. I watched movies, that's what I'd done when I was alive you see, but you what?"

He comes really close. Sits on his knees, so your faces are on the same height:

"When you've seen more than 4000 movies, you figure something out. All of them, are the same and all of them.... suck." He giggles.

"I don't care about this kindred-business. I just want it all to be over. Now, I’m going to make my own movie and make sure things end with a BANG.” He points at the D&D miniatures at the table.

“And it’s going to be the best movie ever. Starring, you and the others. And me, hopefully, in the role of main antagonist!” He starts laughing hard, flapping his cloak like if it were bat's wings.

[Trenchfoot]

Maks

Maks knocks loudly on the door, also seeking a doorbell if one exists. If he cannot find one, or if there is no answer to his knock, he'll grip the doorknob, twist it, and shoulder his way through the door.

Strength roll to get the door open, if necessary.

[roll0]
2 automatic successes from Potence, as normal.

My intent in coming here is to seek audience with somebody in the Tremere. I only want to talk, and would rather not start a fight with them.

[Ichneumon]

Maks

You approach the door. In the old wood you see strange magical markings, carved with a knife. After a few seconds after knocking (there is a bell, but it doesn't seem to work), you hear movement inside. Somebody is walking towards the door, you hear the sound of someone unlocking a lot of locks. And the door opens. You stand face to face with a woman. She looks in her mid to late 30s, but she's kindred so she could be any age. She has blonde hair that’s now cut short in a practical pageboy cut. She seems to be wearing a lot of makeup to hide bags under her eyes, and her red lipstick accentuate the whiteness of her teeth.

She looks surprised, "Hi, hun, what can I do for you?"

[Trenchfoot]

Maks

Maks is at first concerned that she didn't recognize him on sight. Could perhaps the conspiracy against the Prince only involve a few of the Tremere? Maybe only a few of them knew anything about the Siring...

"Good evening. My name is Maksimilian. I am representing my comrades in peace, and I need to talk about what happened to Clarissa, Tony... and Arthur."

He pauses, not knowing that effect the name-dropping might have. Would this woman suddenly realize what he was, the wild attacker that had nearly killed Clarissa?

[Ichneumon]

The woman blinks a few times after you mention the names of three Tremere. She quickly looks around to make sure no one is spying on you and then with great force pulls you inside and closes the door behind you.

"Nice to meet you, Maksimilian. I'm Sarah, Sarah Meers. It was dangerous of you coming here. If I had been any other Tremere, if I had been a friend of Anthony, Clarissa or Arthur or of the Tremere in general, I wouldn't have hesitated on killing you... I can only imagine how hard it must be for you, this change and adapting to Kindred society.", she says in a very stoic cold manner.

With an obviously fake, but still well intended, smile, she asks you to sit down. You look around and she the house is almost old and dirty. Layers and layers of dust cover the furniture. Faces on the photo's hanging on the wall aren't discernable anymore due to the large layers of dust. She herself goes sit at a chair, she points in the direction of a couch for you to sit. "I'm sorry about the way things look, I only use this address for sleeping and I do so in a room upstairs. I don't usually have company. I'm much of a loner myself."

The house sounds deserted. Not a single sound coming from anywhere, but you two. She seems to be speaking the truth.

"I'm also afraid I can't offer you anything to drink. Anyway, this is my haven. Welcome." Those last words are spoken with a warm tone in her voice. She looks a bit nervous though.

She remains quiet, looking like if she expect you to say why you've come to visit her.

[Calenestel]

Amanda Sharpe

She had tried speaking to her kidnapper, to get to know what the whole bloody deal was, when he had told her to shut up she had even let her temper flare and repeated her words in rather harsher terms, even telling the wanker what he could go do with himself. But it hadn't really mattered. She had just been tied up in a chair with some crazy git in a Star Wars-suit. That one had been even less responsive to begin with and she had quickly calmed down and resigned herself to the futility of her situation. She had thrown in a token attempt to tug at the ropes, trying to squirm free. But there she was.
When "Darth Vampire" finally had his phonecall, obviously to her friends in misfortune, she perked up a bit, listening intently, rolling her eyes at times but not missing a word. Everything she got was going to help her. Even if she didn't really see how to begin with, the man was stark, raving mad!
He was having some byzantine scheme to force them to steal a portrait of Charlie Chaplin, while asking the guys to speak their actions out and using small, plastic figurines to keep track?! What's the deal with this guy? Malkavian? That clan's track record was plumeting for every member she met. Malcolm was starting to seem... normal comparison.

When the man finishes his phonecall and turns towards her, giving a monologue to explain himself the feeling only intensifies. And all this out of boredom? At least the other guy isn't taking any crap from him (that had made her smile). While she ponders her options the redhead journalist cracks a cheeky smile and tries to buy herself some time: "Yeah, sure. As long as you're not expecting me to dress up as Slave Leia. Say... am I getting something to eat here? I doubt it'd fit very well with your epic if the Damsel is unconcious from starvation when the heroes arrive."

[Ichneumon]

[OOC: Great to have you back, Calenestel! I think it's best just to continue Amanda's story from here on. You may now attempt to break free from the ropes if you wish. I'll make sure you get enough enough chances to escape or otherwise do something useful.]

Darth Vader looks shocked when he hears Amanda talk about Leia. And he starts stammering: "L-Le-Leia? I hadn't thought of that before..." He suddenly reacts like he is feeling really uncomfortable, tries not to look at her face, trying not to look at Amanda's breasts (but failing to do so and his eyes return to them every so often) and walking nervously through the room, trying to cover up his embarrassment. He seems like the guy who'd have have little experience with girls and women. For a guy who cares so much about stereotypes, he behave remarkably like the stereotype geek.


"Y..You, want something to drink? I eeh.. ugh yes, that's a good suggestion. We don't want you to eh... faint eg, yeah. Eh. GARY!" He shouts.

"GARY!"

"YEAH?" you hear from the other room.

"C..Ccouuulld y.ouu youou get Pepeprrinces Leleia ehm I mean AMANDA se.ssome b-bottles of reddd STuff?"

"WHAT? Ugh, SURE, FINE! They shout, across the different rooms.

At that point, Darth Vader looks at Amanda again, quickly evading her looks he start giggling. It's a strange giggle, insanity combined with a strange geeky nervousness. He quickly goes sit behind his miniature table and moves a great figure of a blue dragon a few squares. Saying in a small voice, more to himself then to Amanda: "The dice have been cast!" , before throwing a few dice, looking at the result and checking numbers on different character sheets.

[Trenchfoot]

Maks

Maks nods professionally and takes the offered seat. He briefly wonders if her name was false, used to justify her staying at Stephen Meers' house... Or perhaps he was a mortal relative, long since dead. Whoever she was, she had to be wondering how he found her.

"I'm certain you are honest about the lack of friendship between yourself, Arthur, Clarissa, and Tony. They've been openly using a vehicle registered to this address, and registered to a 'Stephen' Meers. Any illegal activities they might've been undertaking, such as burning a church, would've led authorities back here."

In one swoop, he would determine whether her distaste for the other Tremere was genuine. If it was, he was also demonstrating that he, too, was no friend of that clan, and that he knew things of importance to her.

[Ichneumon]

She looks surprised.

"Stephen is my brother. He now lives in America, never visits. Doesn't know I'm living in this house. He's so rich, he does't bother selling the place. He's living in New York, destroying his brain with drugs and alcohol. I'm not sure why Antony would register a car under his name. Maybe to bully me? I've been getting speeding tickets for a while now, send to here that I've been trying to pay. They're really trying to get me."

Those words were spoken almost in desperation and you could hear tears behind her voice.

:smallsigh: "They've been bullying me ever since I was embraced."

She looks interested though when you mention the church:

"Burning church? What exactly happened? I don't go out that much so I haven't heard the latest news. I do guess you're part of Antony's group of neonates gone rogue, am I right?":smallamused: Amused, she smiles and laughs a bit.

[Gull]

Malcolm frowned. "I don't know if it's so easy as that. The idiot," and here he caught himself, instinctively looking around even though it was poitnless. "Err, Newsreader wants the portrait, so he may want the actual one that's in the museum. I have some scratch, so I could call my agent to see if she could buy it for me, but if she can't and we end up actually having to steal it, then that rumbles her to the fact that I stole it. Which, in retrospect, wouldn't be the worst thing she knows about me. Bollocks, she's still up, I'll text her.

SMS to Sharon Ozawa

Alright, Sharon? Got another task for you, can you see if you can buy the portrait of Charlie Chaplain from the London Museum of Film? It's worth sod-all, but I want that particular one, I don't care if it costs. People're buying up my canvasses, right? Thanks love.

[Ichneumon]

Malcolm

A few seconds later, you get a reply:


Eh..? Okey, sure. I'll see what I can do. X

About half an hour later, you get another sms:


K, did what you wanted. Caused lots of confusion on the phone. :P Managed to buy it for 90 pounds. I talked to the concierge and you come get it anytime you like. (Don't forget to tip him though!) Have fun with it. You have strange taste, you know that?

[OOC: I figured, she's your contact and this is what she's supposed to do, dealing in art, right?:smalltongue:]

[Gull]

SMS to Sharon Ozawa

Thanks darling, you're a gem. Don't give my taste a bad name, I sure as hell am not going to hang that bloody thing on my wall. It's for a piece that I'm working on, if all goes well you'll make quite the commission on it. xoxo
"Beauty. We have the painting, I just have to go pick it up. I'll take a cab and collect it, and see what the deal is with my bloody sire. As far as I'm concerned, it's my business, you want me to give you a call when we're done?" he asks Laars.
However, while saying this he's scrawling furiously in his notebook. He passes the notebook to Laars rather than tearing out the page to alert his sire, with a 50 pound note.

HE CAN HEAR WHAT I SAY AND DO. I'LL GET THE PAINTING AND CONTACT HIM, YOU MEET ME AT THE MUSEUM IN A SEPARATE CAB. ALSO, PICK ME UP A PREPAID PHONE SO I CAN TEXT YOU, THIS ONE IS BUGGED, GIVE IT TO ME WHEN WE MEET AT THE MUSEUM. THAT WAY HE DOESN'T KNOW YOU'RE THERE, YOU CAN BE A SECRET RESERVE. YEAH?

[Nanoblack]

Llaars

The big man nods and stands, ready to purchase the phone requested of him and to head to the museum. He wasn't exactly sure as to where he was going to get it but they were common enough for that to not be a problem. Patting his pockets as he walks, he sighs in relief, finally away from all of that noise from this conspiracy they were forced into. The phone wouldn't be fancy, but it would keep Malcom off the radar.

All of this static about finding their sires was wearing down on him. He wasn't hellbent on revenge for being embraced. He was unhappy about it, but whoever his sire was would get their comeuppance whether he was involved or not. As for the sires of the others, he was willing to help in the search if it meant keeping the heat off subjects he wished those who would do him harm would stay away from.

He attempts to seem nonchalant at the mobile store. "What do you got that's real cheap and durable? Chances are it's gonna get dropped a lot."

[Trenchfoot]

Maks

Maksimilian swears as she reveals knowledge of what he was. It was sloppy of him even to mention the church-fire, but his assumption that she was separate from the greater majority of Tremere had made him complacent. What happens next takes place in the blink of an eye.

First, the veins and muscles in Maks' body stand out strikingly, making his whole body seem to increase in size. Second, his hourglass eyes dilate, becoming bizarre, limpid pools of death-promising fury. Third, he rises from the table, one arm shooting out powerfully to grab Sarah by the neck and pull her in towards him, where his arms wrap around her. He hurls her to the ground, his fanged teeth dangerously close to her face.

"You've been a gracious host, Sarah, but I am damned tired of pussyfooting around with you magi. You are going to do two things for me. First, you are not going to fight back, and I am not going to kill you. Second, you are going to tell me how I can get in contact with Tony and Clarissa, and I am going to leave and meet with them. Do not make the mistake of resisting me."

Okay. As per the rules, I am declaring that I am spending a point of blood to increase my Strength to 4 for the scene. I am also spending a point of Willpower for an automatic success on the Clinch attempt.

Clinch Attack (Strength+Brawl) + (Potence2+WP1): [roll0] +3 automatic successes.
Clinch Damage (Strength): [roll1]

The damage is just to show her I mean business.

[Ichneumon]

Maks

As you hurl and clinch her, she screams, but as soon as you tell her what you want, she remains quiet. She's intelligent enough to understand that making noise can only make things worse. She doesn't move a muscle, in fact she remains so still, not having to breath, that for a moment it scares you. She slowly speaks, a lot of courage and bravery sounds in her voice: "I see you already fit in quite well. You're already making a fine Kindred, Maksimilian. You really already are it seems really one of us. I can give you Tony and Clarissa's telephone numbers and the address of their haven, although I believe they don't spend the day there often, mostly staying somewhere else I'd say. I don't know where. They regularly visit Justinian's Plague, a night club where a lot of Kindred go. I know that Tony often visits a certain prostitute. I can give you her address as well." She pauzes, smiles :smallamused: and adds: "I could also give you contact information on Arthur, but since you didn't ask, I assume you guys already murdered him?"

Llaars

The man looks at Llaars for a few seconds, a bit confused. :smallconfused: It sounded like Llaars was trying to buy a gun or something, instead of an innocent phone. "Sure, I have this simple model, a few years old. Very popular with the elderly. It even has very simple e-mail and internet functions."

It's cheap enough for you to buy it.

[Trenchfoot]

Maks

The Gangrel does not return her smile.

"I've made a mistake by saying anything about the church. You've made a mistake by making the connection at all."

He pauses, his hand tightening on her throat. He didn't like the lack of fear in her voice. Was she so ready to lose herself?

"I'm torn between the necessity to squeeze you until you are no longer capable of movement, and my desire to learn what you know. Are you capable of preventing me from killing you, I wonder? Is there a way that I can ensure your silence that doesn't involve stapling you to the roof so that you can watch the sun rise?"

Damn right I'm rolling Str + Intimidation.

[roll0]

[Calenestel]

Meanwhile....

Amanda Sharpe

Darth Vampire's first reaction makes her groan inwardly, that was EXACTLY the reaction she had feared as soon as she stopped herself talking. She and her big mouth. But then... she might work with this.
While she makes sure to keep herself composed, a thing that is actually surprisingly easy, inside she thinks furiously. The man was obviously not accustomed to "girls", as hard as that was to think about a kindred. He was like... the Loser of vampires. The one that other kids picked on in school because he didn't even begin to realize how social interactions worked. As he looks to her breasts she slowly, subtly starts breathing again, cirkulating air through her lungs; and making her bosom heave slightly. "Oh, all right... If that's the game you want to play, then I guess I have no real choice, do I?" Well, not until she has got some nourishment, enough to again become superhumanly fast, or managed to control her captor. The main problem in either case would probably be his ally. Gary. She'd have to maneuvre him away first.

[Nanoblack]

Llaars

He nods in acceptance and digs through his pockets for a crumpled wad of money which he places on the counter. He clicks through the phone for a bit to get a feel for it, and after calling his own phone so that the number was in both, he thanks the man and walks out.

To the museum!

Llaars was a fighter and a partier, so he hadn't gone to too many museums. This one was likely no exception to the other boring frigid buildings he'd passed on his way to his favorite bars. So there he sat, across the street from the entrance, awaiting his companions arrival.

[Ichneumon]

Maks

Sarah remains quiet. She looks more and more terrified. She's even turning a bit pale (for a vampire that is) :smalleek: "I eh.... don't know any reason." She closes her eyes, awaiting death.

The house is completely silent, with not even the sound of your breath interrupting it.

At that moment, her cell phone starts ringing.... She opens her eyes and look at, awaiting your orders what to do.

Amanda

Darth Vampire looks at, visibly doubting whether he is dreaming or not.

Gary comes in with a milk bottle filled with blood.

Darth Vader: "Right, give it to her, Garry. Afterwords, I want you to start preparing the car in case our childer get te painting. I have the feeling they'll get it much quicker than I expected."

Gary responds with am evil smile: "Great, I can't wait too see them again. I'd love to see Laars' face when he recognizes me."

Darth Vampires looks at from Amanda to the bottle of blood to Amanda again: "Right, open your mouth, we're not going to untie you, so I'm going to have to poor it in your mouth. Now sit still." He awkwardly take the bottle out of Gary's hands and walks towards you. It's unlikely he's going to try to do anything with you other than try to let you drink by holding the bottle in the direction of your face. However, it's clear that he's very uncertain about "crossing a line" by coming to close to you and you experiencing it as "sexual harassment".

Llaars and Malcolm

Both of you reach the museum. The streets are empty. When Malcolm opens the door (it's open) the security guard comes walking to you immediately, with a big smile he says: "You must be mr. Harrow? I presume? I got your painting right here."

He walks to his desk and takes a huge packages (the size and shape of a painting) and gives it to you.

[Trenchfoot]

Maks

"That is what I thought."

Maks releases the terrified woman and rises.

"You may call the person who is calling after I have left. You are going to give me all of the information you just offered. You will not speak of this meeting, and you will not investigate any further into anything you may have just inferred."

Stepping away from her, he clasps his hands behind his back.

"If I find that you say too much, I will find you. I will bind you in chains in my basement, and make a weekly habit of breaking all of the bones in your body, and then shaking you to see what it sounds like."

He shakes his head. It seemed this entire clan had a tendency to investigate a little too deep into dangerous things...

[Ichneumon]

Maks

Sarah stands up, listens carefully and nods in agreement.

She walks to a cupboard, takes a notebook and starts writings down telephone numbers and addresses, then she pauzes, thinking...

"You know, I can just as well tell you this... I mean... They already hate me and they'll blame and kill me, even if their is no REAL evidence you got the information from me. My only real chance of survival is if you guys win, so I can just as well tell you this..."

If she'd be alive, this would be the moment to take a big breath before continuing.


"Since the clan-war a few years ago, the number of Tremere in this city has declined rapidly. We try to hide it, none of the other clans no much of what we do. It's our biggest kept secret. There are only 8 of us, I mean 7... now that you killed Arthur. That's all that you guys are facing, a small group of 7 men and women. That's all that remain of clan Tremere in London. Nothing more."

[Gull]

Malcolm grinned widely. Finally, something that wasn't at all complicated. He wanted something. His agent bought it for him. Lovely.
"Brilliant, thanks mate." Reaching into his pocket, he peeled off a couple notes and pressed them into the guard's hand. "Sometimes you see something and just have to have it, yeah?" Hooking his hand around the package with the air of someone used to humping canvasses around, Malcolm walked out of the museum. Seeing Llaars there, he took the cell phone from him without a word, checked to make sure it was set to silent, and tipped him a loose salute before pressing a finger to his lips for silence. Tucking the prepaid in his suit pocket, he sat on a bench, painting leaning next to him. He drew out his original phone and held it loosely in one hand while he spoke aloud.
"Alright, John? I got your painting here, where shall I drop it off, and where shall I pick up the leading lady in this farce? Your trailer?"
As he waited for the phone to ring, the voice spoke up for the first time in a while.
You're awfully clever, aren't you artist? Just don't forget what happens to "the black guy" in movies.
Yeh.
But I'm already dead.
He grinned fiercely at nothing in particular. It was going to be a hell of a night.

[Calenestel]

Her first thought when the geek malkavian, at least that's how she thinks of him, looks at her is an immediate sense of triumph. This just might work, and quicker than she had thought. He even looked ripe to let her loose of the ropes himself! The only thing keeping her from suggesting it is Gary's presence, even with him in the next room she doesn't want to try anything. Not until she knew his weaknesses if she couldn't get him well out of the way.

It is then a small disappointment when Darth announces that he won't let her loose at the moment. She would even have let him tie her up again! But she guesses that it would have been just too easy. She would have to settle for the next best thing and continue to play along, to be a good hostage, and possibly fuel that lingering lust she had sensed previously a bit. If she not only lets him feed her but also pretend to like it maybe?

Of course, when he puts the bottle of cold blood, slowly loosing it's vitality, to her lips she's suddenly not pretending. She enjoys it! She craves it! She had forgotten how hungry she was, teetering on the edge of reason. She hadn't been hungry when the approaching dawn had forced her to flee into the bathroom at home, duct taping what blankets and duvets she could find to cover the gaps around the door and sleeping on a matress on the floor. And she hadn't had time to hunt before Gary had "picked her up". Now the red liquid couldn't flow fast enough for her taste and while it was cold and bland it was still extacy to drink and when Darth pulled the bottle away she looked after it longingly. Wishing she could have another one.

She doesn't say it, though, continuing to play nice. "Thank you, I needed that." Finally she gives him a grateful glance. Working hard at looking non-threatening and submissive. And continuing to breathe.

That gives her what... A blood point? Two?

It struck me that I probably should roll something. Manipulation+Subterfuge seems most likely.

[roll0] Edit: Meh. That's one success. Unless the difficulty is insanely low. Or unless it's a contested roll. In which case I hope he gets a penalty to perception+manipulation (or manipulation+empathy or whatever he should roll)

[Ichneumon]

Amanda (and Malcolm and Llaars)

Amanda gains 2 Vitae. You succeed in bluffing him. :smallamused:

"Great, now that you've drunk we ca-" His phone starts ringing.

He runs to the phone, looking who it is, and excited he shouts: "Ah! My pawn in this game of night's chess!"

Answering: "Yes, John here?" Listening, as he listens the smile on his face grows bigger and bigger. While speaking to Malcolm he looks overjoyed at Gary and Amanda: "That's! .... Amazing! I don't know what to say, that was really quick! You know what, can you come to the shipyard, you know, the one's in the East, South of the Millenium Eye? In maybe 2 hours? The atmosphere will be great. We'll wait there for you and we'll have a real James Bont-like villain secret agent scene with you giving us the painting and we giving you the girl?" He starts laughing, hard, not in a classical "evil villain" way, but more in a very insane way as if he doesn't have completely control of his emotions.

"Do you wish to speak to speak to Amanda? I guess that would intensify the scenes on the dock if you speak to her now, right before the exchange, reminding you what's at stake? Amanda? Do you wish to speak to Malcolm?"

[Calenestel]

The phonecall is almost a bit of a disappointment too. She had the beginning of a good plan here, to see herself free without relying on "the men" to help her out. And they gotta ruin it with doing their assignment quickly and efficiently! Then she realizes how much that makes her sound as Darth Vampire and she shrugs mentally. It would have been a good plan, it would still make a good plan B. But this way she would be free faster. Unless he decided to kill her to increase the drama. He seemed more than crazy enough for that. Covertly Amanda tries to lessen her constraints a little. If they took her along as she was she would need to get out of the ropes quickly later.

Dex+Athletics?

[roll0]

[Ichneumon]

Amanda

You loosen your constraints so well that you could likely free yourself now with one pull of force (no roll required).

[Trenchfoot]

Maks

After memorizing the information Sarah had, the Gangrel's hands twitch slightly, as a thought pops into his head.

"Time is of the essence then. I plan on giving them REAL evidence that you helped me.

He takes the cellphone she hadn't picked up, and flips it open as he looks into her eyes. He finds that he was beginning to really enjoy this sort of thing.

"I recommend seeking safe haven with your brother in America. Perhaps stow away on a cargo ship? Consider this a favor. I'm giving you a bit of extra motivation to leave a city, and a Clan, that doesn't want you anyway."

Without another word, he will leave the house and begin walking down the street, pending any interruption on her part. Within moments, he searches through Sarah's phone, and dials Clarissa's number, grinning darkly.

[Ichneumon]

Sarah agrees. "I'll leave tonight. Good luck."

When you dial Clarissa's number, it takes a few seconds before she answers, and she does so quite angry: "Yeah, what do you want?"

[Trenchfoot]

Maks

Stuffing a hand into his coat pocket, Maks responds evenly.

"Hey there, this isn't Sarah. She's dealt with. This is Maks, the Gangrel. I'd like to have a talk with your Clan Leader, preferably, though I understand if he doesn't want to see me directly. I have some things I'd like to offer you guys."

[Gull]

"Yeah, I'll meet you there." He hesitated for a moment. "Bring the girl and don't muck about, and I'll have your painting."
Now all's I need is a cunning plan.

[Ichneumon]

Amanda

Darth Vampire continues speaking to the person on the other end of the phone: "Great!, I see you there! In two hours. Wait for us near the large cranes."

He hangs up. "Alright, Gary, you take the girl, I'll start the car. It's show time!"

He makes a few shouts of joy, flaps his cloak, making dramatical movements with it, similar to what you'd expect from a Dracula movie and he runs out of the room.

Gary stands up and walks towards you: "Alright, please don't kick this time. It will only make things more unpleasant for both of us."

He grabs Amanda's leges and lifts her over one of his shoulders, carrying her outside to a car.

If you choose to resist, these are his rolls to hold you:

Strength (3) + Brawl (1) = [roll0] + 2 automatic successes because of Potence

Maksimilian and Llaars

You of course heard Newsreader say the stuff he said above (in Amanda's part). If you search on your phone how far the dockyard is, you find that the dockyard is only 20 minutes away with the London Underground (which is operative 24 hours a day).

I'm assuming you'll want to do something else than just go there, if not, please indicate it as such.

Maks

You hear her gulp and her passing the phone.

It stays quiet for a few moments, you hear people talking in the background, but it's too soft for you to hear what they're staying. Then, a man with a German accent answers in a cold emotionless voice: "This is Friedrich Stern. I'm listening, Gangrel." It's difficult to detect if there is fear or anger in him, maybe a bit of both.

[Trenchfoot]

Maks

Hand still in his pocket, Maks continues to walk and talk.

"Of course you're listening... I've been holding all the cards in the deck since we began playing. I have a trade of information that I would like to make, Mr. Stern."

He allows for a dramatic pause, using the moment to light his cigarette. The sound would be audible to Stern on the other end of the line.

"There are quite a few loose ends involved in our relationship Stern, and I'd like to tie them up. Considering I am one of those loose ends, I'm not referring to myself. I would like to offer you Spine. I know a specific date, time and location of where he will be. We will not interfere this time, now that we understand eachother's... motivations. I'll tell you where to be, he will arrive, and you will kill him."

A drag of the cigarette, and a long stream of smoke up into the night sky.

"Additionally, I'm willing to remove the program that would send the video of your traitorous nature out upon my death. I don't enjoy holding things over another's head, makes me feel just awful. I will still own the video, of course."

Still not giving the Tremere leader time to respond, Maks finishes his proposal.

"In exchange, you are going to provide me with the names and locations of our group's Sires, excluding mine. I would also prefer that you not warn them ahead of time that we know..."

[Ichneumon]

Maks

"Ich eh.. I don't.." He seems overwhelmed and a bit confused.

"Mr. Zaslavskaya, I'm... certain we can make a deal." He sounds bitter, he doesn't like this at all.

"We'll give you the names and locations of your sires in exchange for Spine's location and the destruction of the progam AND the original tape, Mr Zaslavskaya. Would that be agreeable to you? In exchange, we could help you set up an ambush to trick your sires, if you wanted to."

"We could use a man with your skill, insight and recourses. Tell me, how much money would we have to pay you, to convince you, to work for us?" He says with a sly, inviting voice.

"10.000? 30.000? .... per month?"

[Trenchfoot]

Maks

If Maksimilian were not in control of himself, he would put the phone down and laugh. He is, so he does not. In preparation for this new transaction, he opens his camera and removes all other pictures and videos expect for the one in question, and takes the card that holds the data out of the camera. He would have to buy a new one in time, but he could use the camera's internal data card to hold images and videos for the time being.

"I would be glad to offer the original video, as a token of our newfound understanding. I will leave the chip in the mailbox of Sarah Meers. I'm certain you'll be along to her address very shortly anyway. You can pick it up there."

The offer of a paid partnership hangs then... He allows a brief pause to take place.

"We will need no assistance in an ambush, a fact to which poor Arthur can attest. I understand that you, too, would like to see the Sires silenced, but we can handle them on our own. Give me the data on our Sires before we consider a further partnership, Mr. Stern. I need to see if your information is as good as your ability to negotiate."

If Stern agrees, Maks will give him the Meeting Information that Spine had agreed upon with Amanda.

[Gull]

Malcolm sat on a folding chair under the yellow glare of the arc-sodium lights of the meeting spot. In one hand, he held a 7-11 Super Big Gulp, but the blood running down the sides of the cup implied there was no soda inside. The other arm rested easily on the wrapped painting, a cigarette burning between his fingers. He was wearing red and blue 3D glasses, the better to appreciate his sire's new theatrical point of view.
It's all perspective.
Mad people have a mad perspective. So to predict my sire, I have to perceive like he does.
But can his madness allow him to predict me? My perspective is that of an artistic genius. Newsreader thinks he's a genius, but he's not. He's a prat. So therefore, he can't predict me, while I, putting myself in the shoes of a madman, can predict him.
But, thought not a prat, I am also not mad.
Are you sure about that, artist?
Deadly sure. I've accepted that you are simply a part of my sensitive condition, like Maksimillian's claws. This is because while Standish is a repellent parody of a mad vampire and Newsreader is some sort of adolescent maniac, I remain my brilliant self. QED, I am not mad, while they are.
But how then can I adjust my own perspective to predict the actions of a madman?
Malcolm ran down this curious train of thought, trying vainly to make it make sense to him.
It wasn't working terribly well.

[Calenestel]

Enduring the Gary's manhandling with more patience than she had thought capable of Amanda is carried to the car. But inside she's seething. These two would pay for this in time. When she had more allies, goons of her own. Especially the malkavian, or whatever he was, seemed a loner without any real friends, small surprise really. He'd be easy picking then. Entertaining herself with that pleasant thought, and the small victory of not being securely tied up any longer, she comes along quietly and, this time, without kicking Gary in the nuts.

[Ichneumon]

Maks

It remains quiet for a few seconds, you hear him sigh:smallsigh:: "Okey... The Malkavian's sire was a guy named Newsreader, he lives in an old DVD-store." He gives you the adres and telephone number.

"The Brujah's sire was one of Newreader's minions. His name is Gary the Ghoul. His girlfriend is the sire of the Toreador chick." He gives you the telephone number of Gary. He claims to not have the adres of Gary or any contact information on Amanda's sire.

After you've given the information, the conversation ends naturally.

[I'm skipping time a bit. I'm assuming you're okay with this. And after this conversation would have made contact with the others and, maybe after some preparations, went for the shipyard as well.]

Everybody

A thick fog hangs over the shipyard, curling around the ships lying at the shore. Sticking out of the mist are the big cranes, used to transport goods out of the ships and to the warehouses nearby.

The area is rather open, but still there are many places to hide: Big piles of crates, some made of plastic, others of metal or wood. Some willed with fish, others with iPods or medical drugs ready to be shipped to Canada or South-Africa.

The smell of dead fish is almost unbearable, thankfully, as a vampire, you can just choose not to breath.

After waiting for 30 minutes, a small and old cabriolet comes gliding through the fog. Driving the car was Gary, sitting next to him was a man in a Darth Vader costume. In the backseat, was Amanda, sitting quietly.

Llaars recognises Gary as the man he had beaten up just two days ago for hitting on his sister. He had broken his nose back then, but now, there wasn't a scratch on him. He was kindred. On his face, the same smile that had annoyed you back then.


"One Of Us"
Part 4: The Dark Side

When they arrive, both Malcolm and Llaars get a strange "tingling" feeling. These two men were their sires. There could be no doubt about that, the feeling was so strong. [You guys may decide yourselves where your characters are when they arrive, whether or not you are hidden.]

[Calenestel]

Seated again, and not being carried slung over some big brute's shoulder, Amanda seems to be rather fully in control of herself, maybe even her situation. As soon as either of her captors look to her she slumps a little, looking rather vulnerable and weak, easily cowed. But as soon as their backs are turned she straightens a little. When she sees her friends in misfortune she shoots them an amused smile as soon as her kidnappers look away, even wriggling a hand free, with obvious ease, and waving quickly before returning her hands to their previous place, seeming securely bound. For now she waits and sees what the others are going to do, friends and enemies alike.

[Trenchfoot]

Maks

Barely arriving at the docks in time before cabriolet arrives, Maks relays his new found information to his comrades. He didn't know who Gary was, or the name of Amanda's sire, but it was something.

These guys are your Sires, not mine. I'll take the lead from you on what you want to do. Try not to draw attention to me."

That said, Maks moves to the side and scales one of the loading cranes above the meeting spot. Once at the top, perched above Malcolm and Llaars, he's ensure to remain as hidden as possible.

Dex+Athletics to scale the crane.
[roll0]

Dex+Stealth to hide up there on top of the head of the crane.
[roll1]


I'm also spending 3 blood points to raise my Strength score to 6 for the scene, now that I can clearly see Llaars wants to kill them as much as I do.

[Nanoblack]

Llaars

Managing to find a nice quiet spot nearby with a view of the meeting area wasn't as hard as he was expecting, and there he lay, kneeling down to keep as much out of view as possible. Then the vehicle comes rolling in.

He squinted hard to see what kind of condition Amanda was in. He was gonna rip off Newsreaders hands if she was hurt. Just as Amanda amusingly waved toward Malcom, Llaars' gaze drifted to the driver of the vehicle. Had he a pulse, it would be racing. Even then, his heart would be left in the dust of his mind, as the memory of Gary putting his filthy hands on Angela returned to his mind. "No."

That first impression already had him on Llaars' ***-list, but this... was another level entirely. As long as this creature remained, everything he cared about was in danger. His lips pulled back into a frozen rictus as his fingers clamped down on the crate he was ducking behind. Eyes locked on his sire, he rose to his feet and began walking toward Malcom. His knuckles popped from how hard they were clenched. Only one thing was now on his mind: Final Death

[Ichneumon]

High, up in the crane Maks looks at the scene. The cabriolet comes to a halt a couple of feet away from Malcolm. Gary stands up, victoriously smiling when he sees Llaars' anger. "Good, I figured you'd be angry." In a louder voice he shouts: "Now that you're one of us, I don't have to protect the masquerade. This time, I'll murder you, for good! You're gonna suffer, Llaars!"

Darth Vampire reacts annoyed: "I warn you Gary, don't steal the spotlight away from me..."
He steps out of the car, making theatrical movements with his arms and cape. "Malcolm, my dear friend! I see you got the painting! As you see, we have Amanda here. I already thought you'd break our agreement and bring your little Brujah friend. Don't see the Gangrel though. You didn't bring him? Never mind, I don't blame you. I think Gary needed a little family re-union. Don't you think?"

The voice in Malcolm's head: "That's him, artist. He's it, the one who embraced you. Be careful. He might sound insane, which he is, but that doesn't make him less dangerous. They are prepared. Don't let his insanity fool you."

Both Darth Vampire and Gary ignore Amanda... They really treat her as if she was just a movie MacGuffin.

[Trenchfoot]

Maks

Maksimilian tenses himself, letting the blood thicken around his arms and legs. The moment one of his friends initiated the combat, he'd leap down and start pulling arms out of their sockets.

From his position atop the crane, he looks around the surrounding area. As far as he knew, Newsreader had set up this meeting place. There would be cameras, maybe even a hidden ambush...

Volunteering to roll Perception + Awareness. I would've done an area search beforehand, but I didn't want to hold things up.

[rollv6d10[/rollv]

[Ichneumon]

Rerolling for Maks: [roll0]

Maks doesn't find/see anything out of the ordinary.

[No need to reroll the 10'again]

[Gull]

Malcolm uncrossed his legs, stood up and shrugged. "I'm just accepting your milieu, mate. After all," and here she spread his arms and spun around slowly, indicating the misty meeting area, "what's a movie without an audience?" Cigarette between his long fingers, he raised the bloody cup and tipped a salute off his 3D glasses. "I'd have gotten popcorn, but I don't think it would agree with me."
He stuffed the cigarette in his mouth and hefted the painting with one hand. "I'll give you the painting, you give me the girl, and we let those two," tipping his head at the two Brujah, "get on with their fight scene?" He began to walk to Newsreader.

[Ichneumon]

Darth Vampire reacts confused and seems impressed. "I... I ... hadn't expected this, at all. I'm really impressed. You're more like me than I thought."

He opens his arms, almost as if he wanted to embrace [no pun intended] Malcolm.
"Come and get your girl, Malcolm. You've earned it!"

[OOC: Sorry for the late reply, life has been chaotic this week.]

[Nanoblack]

Llaars

As the last word left newsreaders lips, the figurative string holding all of Llaars' tension snapped. In a familiar motion, similar to the one that incapacitated Tony, Llaars leaps for Gary, his eyes focused on his targets throat. As he soared through the air, his lungs emptied in a passionate, rancor-filled threat. "I'll make you regret everything!"

Rolling for a tackle. Laptop is still incapacitated, so Idon't have access to my books. I believe it's brawl+strength 9d10

[Gull]

"We laugh to keep from crying, yeah?" said Malcolm amiably as he turned from watching Llaars leap at Gary. He walked over to Newsreader, cigarette between his teeth, cup in his hand, and print on his back.
"Going to be quite the fight, from the look of it," He said. "Young Llaarrs seems pretty browned off at-"
And without warning, he squeezed the bloody Super Big Gulp in his hand, popping off the lid and splashing Newsreader with the 1.3 litres of gasoline inside it. At the same time, he wordlessly spat his cigarette at his sire.

[Ichneumon]

Gary falls on the ground. He curses. "You lousy son of a -"

But he's interrupted by a loud screech coming from Newsreader who just caught fire. Fire spreads quickly, within seconds his entire body is engulfing his entire body and his arms have turned into big wings of flames, futilely flapping.

"Aaaaah! It hurts!"

Gary watches, although he seems a bit shocked by the fire, he visibly enjoys the suffering of his master. He mumbles: "....perdition's flames..." The entire dockyard is lit up by the inferno.

Newsreader starts running in circles. "Aaaah!" [He takes 3 damage for this round.]

Gary's eyes seem fixed on Newsreader, [so he wastes his round of combat]