Roulette Rouge: Beginnings

[Jjeinn-tae]

Las Vegas, Nevada, a veritable city of lights. A slot machine in every building, and a total of one true casino without a hotel attached. People come from all over the world to make or break their fortunes, few places in the world have such a large population of people visiting just to partake in the local nightlife.

Of course, those more in tune with the true nature of the world see much more to the place. In their indefinite power-play, many kindred have taken ownership of various casinos over the city's existence, whether behind the scenes or "publicly." Many of these casinos owned by the kindred function as Elysiums, after all, taking money from enemies is useful to oneself. Even some of the more "civil" Sabbat might be known to partake in practice.

The day is Saturday, January 1st; for your own reasons, you have found your way to the Elysium within Binion's Gambling Hall and Hotel, though it's bounds do not actually reach the Casino floor itself. The Horseshoe's neutral ground is actually rather uninteresting at first glance, beyond the fact that it seems specifically designed to facilitate meetings between independent and Camarilla kindred. The hotel is covered by the grounds of Elysium, so in theory it is made to allow solace while you "sleep," but the reality of this depends greatly on who you're hiding from.

[Trenchfoot]

--Maks, Binion's Gambling Hall and Hotel--

Maks had chosen a dark sideroom in the basement of the hotel tonight. It had once been the site of several high-stakes poker games and dark mafia deals in the mid-50's. He imagines that he can still see the bullet-holes in the walls, signs of deals gone wrong and dead-to-rights cheats.

He has dropped his Mask tonight, feeling comfortable down here knowing his friend Tristram was with him. Maks was a 'dry one', a Nosferatu that didn't leak or stink particularly bad. He was just as ugly, mottled and ruined as any other of his brothers; looking more like a fish-bitten corpse just pulled out of a river than a living human being. He reaches up and scratches at a jungle-green patch of the skin on his face, instinctively tracing a finger along an ever-present crack in the flesh there. The clothes he wore in his real form amounted to little more than an ancient trench coat, worn in combat boots and tough canvas trousers with a rope for a belt.

Should anyone else happen to enter the room, he'd pop up one of his faces, but for now, he's relaxing. A glass of crimson is on the table before him; one of the benefits of Elysium was the provided vitae. He didn't know the host of tonight's Elysium personally; hell, he didn't know anybody save Tristram and a few other new-names. Luckily, blood in a glass tasted like blood in a glass, no matter who was serving. To make sure this sentiment was still true, Maks takes a sip, and nods.

"Yep. Blood's blood." he mutters thoughtfully to the smoky ceiling.

[daelrog]

Tristram had just walked in, a drink in both hands. He was handsome, sandy hair left unkempt, yet somehow perfect for his demeanor. One of his eyes was emerald green, the other soft blue. It was an easy way to describe him.

He was wearing a black fleece sweater over a white T-shirt, complimented by a pair of high-end jeans. He took his seat by Maks. First time Trsitram had met Maks... well, looks weren't everything but it could ruin a first impression. Still, Maks had given him the run down of what it meant to be kindred, and in hindsight, probably kept him from having a blood hunt called on his ass given how much he was doing wrong to start with.

The room smelled of death, blood, and liquor for the ghouls. It was not a pleasant smell, but naother thing he had grown accustomed to. What he was not comfortable with though was the looks of mistrust from every corner, every shadow. He was Ravnos, and apparently that was about as bad a 'Clan' as one could have. Some nonsense about always causing trouble.

"Nonsense." He lifted the glass in his left hand as he sat down. "As you can see, this glass comes form premium stock. Virgin, blonde, Fench nobility, a 1731 I believe." He lifted the other glass. "While this piss is from a old, diseased, withered old heroine addict. Cheers!" He promptly began drinking from his right hand.

[Trenchfoot]

Maks is at first a little shocked.

"Seriously? They were serving something vintage? Where the hell..."

He looks over his shoulder to the door. Earlier at the 'bar for Kindred', they had automatically given him the other stuff. After a moment, his surprise fades. Tristram always had a talent for getting his hands on things he shouldn't.

"Bah, French Virgin for you, hooker juice for me. Cheers."

With a jovial little flair, Maks drains the glass, setting it back down.

"Old, withered heroine addict. Hmmph. This is probably what my mother's blood would've tasted like." He shrugs. "I'll tell ya brother, Vegas is not what I imagined it to be. I figured all the glitz and glamour would just be show, y' know; gold spraypaint on a dried dog turd, but this place is rotten. Whaddayou think? Anything like what you saw in the movies?"

He knew Tristram was from L.A., and that the Ravnos was about as fresh to the true midnight as Maks was. The Nosferatu wanted to see if he felt the same away about the urban decay.

Taking a single blood point from the glass of old blood, if that's acceptable. Additionally, if you want to come on in Shieldheart, feel free.

[daelrog]

Tristram shook his head slightly, amused. Maks took his words too literally sometimes, all the time.

"Sure, it's rotten. So is just about everywhere these days." He looked at Maks. "And what place is like the movies. Hell, we'd all be getting lap dances from gorgeous actresses, and every hand we got would be a fulll house or better." He took another swig of blood. "Try to look on the positive side. At least you have your youth."

[Trenchfoot]

"Positive side... blech. I'll let you see the positive side, I'll keep my peepers on reality."

He waves his hand quickly, not wanting to get into a new philosophical discussion on outlooks with Tristram. He enjoyed them, but he had a hankerin' for business tonight.

"Y'know, I was thinkin of headin down into the sewers to see what the other Nossies are up to tonight. See if they don't have some kind of business going on. You want to tag along, or do you have somethin else in mind?"

He pauses for a moment, remembering that other Kindred may not be as comfortable with shuffling around in the **** Tunnels as the Nosferatu.

"Or I can just give you a jingle on your mobile."

[Shieldheart]

The blood was stale. Patrick made a face as he sipped it, wishing he was elsewhere. He was never comfortable dealing with the Camarilla and right now, he was tired as hell and really, really needed a good, long drain on a healthy, young female. Unfortunately, that was not an option.

He smoothed down the front of his glossy brown Armani suit, fiddled with the open collar of his pearl white shirt, ran his hand through his sandy browh hair - all nervous tics that any competent person would've been able to pick out and exploit. He knew this, but it was hard to stop.

He turned his back on the bar and looked out at the basement, where he'd been told to wait. Blasted arrogant Camarilla. He belonged to one of the richest families in Vegas, Kindred or kine and they made him wait in the dank with all the other low-lifes.

At the moment, this main hall was nearly empty. There a few Kindred here and there, alone and waiting or huddled together, whispering secrets and gossip under their breaths. Doors led off to siderooms, several occupied. Patrick had seen a Kindred take two glasses of vitae in with him to the room to his right a while back.

He glanced at his watch. It'd been ten minutes. Time really flew when you were having fun, he thought sarcastically. Last time, he had had to waste two whole hours waiting here. Who knew how long he'd have to wait this time? Maybe he could forge some new contacts in the meantime. Couldn't hurt.

Picking up his glass of vitae, he walked over to the room he'd seen the Kindred with two glasses (Tristram) walk into. "Let 'em know I'm in here." He called back to the bartender, before opening the door and stepping in.

His eyes were instantly drawn to the Nosferatu (Maks) and he couldn't help but recoil. God, he hated coming upon these freaks with their Masks down. They made weeks-old corpses look beautiful in comparison. This one seemed to be buddies with the first one he'd seen; they were sharing a drink. Interesting.

He walked forward and took a seat opposite the two, far enough away that they could ignore each other if they wanted, close enough that they could talk. He was curious as to which Clan the other one belonged to. He couldn't tell by a look.

[Trenchfoot]

Maks was a little surprised to see someone else come into the backroom, but clearly they were looking for a little silence amid the chaos themselves. Maks politely pops on a new visage, a boring male with brown hair, a nice jacket, and a lime green tie. He gives a nod to the newcomer before looking back to Tristram.

[Shieldheart]

The Nosferatu popped up a Mask. Patrick smiled wryly and lifted his glass. "Thanks." He said, before taking another sip. He'd known Rats who delibreately inflicted their disgusting faces on fellow Kindred out of spite. Of course, that green tie was repulsive enough in its own way...

[Deadlykire]

Erebus walked into the bar with an elegantly dressed woman on his arm. The midnight blue dress shimmered in on itself, even in this horribly lit place. He could sense the woman's unease at being here and gave her a gentle pat on the hand. "We'll be going soon enough," he whispered, glancing at her eyes filled with desire. He was hungry but his meal would have to wait, at least he found something appetizing to snack on tonight. He looked around for where he'd been instructed to meet his new contact. He didn't see anyone matching the man's description so he headed towards the bar. Erebus was sure to keep the woman close, he could feel the other kindred's eyes on her. Vanessa had said the man's name was Patrick. How I do hate meeting with these people. But Vanessa rarely sends me on fools errands these days. There must be a reason the elders want me to meet with this Patrick. Hopefully his contact had left him some sort of message. "I'm looking for a man named Patrick. I was told to expect him here. Should have been in a brown suit." Erebus was frank and to the point, he so hated the games kindred played and refused to play them unless it was mandatory.

[daelrog]

Tristram waved off Maks's last comment. "Last I checked, your clan mates weren't keen on outsiders walking around their turf. No, I think I'll hang here for awhile longer, and keep my head on."

Besides, I may be used to you pal, but I don't know if I could handle seeing a half a dozen more just like oyu, each with their own abnormalities to look past.

[Trenchfoot]

Maks nods. "Heh, point taken. It's alright, I'll let em know you helped me out if they do have a job. Gettin cred with the Nosferatu isn't always a bad thing. Keep your phone on."

He rises, and takes a moment to look at the Kindred in the Armani suit. He had noted the wry smile, and studies the finely-dressed man's appearance for a few seconds. At the end of it, his appearance warps again, becoming that of Patrick himself! He hadn't seen the other man's shoes, so he came up with his own pair of black dancing shoes from some movie he had seen once. Otherwise, the mimicry was decent at best. He gives Patrick a sly wink using the man's own face, and departs the room to head out of the casino, chuckling at his own odd sense of humor and figuring Tristram would get a kick out of it.

Heheh, Using Mask of a Thousand Faces (page 166) to look like Patrick. Figure this ought to give Tristram a reason to 'apologize for his friend', or just otherwise start a conversation with Patrick. Also, Erebus is looking for 'Patrick', so it gives me the opportunity to interact with him for a moment as well. I don't really mind if my roll stinks, this is more for roleplaying effect than anything else.

Manipulation+Performance: [roll0]

[Shieldheart]

Patrick blinked. That blasted Sewer Rat! He'd used Patrick's face for a Mask! The nerve of him! He twisted in his chair, suddenly afraid. He had only caught a glimpse of the Nosferatu's face as he'd walked out. How good had the copy been?

"Hey, you." He called out to the other Kindred present (Tristram). "Your friend just walked out of here with my face. How worried should I be?"

[Jjeinn-tae]

The bar, hidden in an out of the way corner of the building just off the casino floor, is rather nice despite not being the "real" bar. Not having any of the show and lights common to Vegas bars, the bartender is in light shadows. He raises his right eyebrow at Erebus's question.

"Rothstein? The..." he shoots a glance over at Erebus's "companion." "...Giovanni? Is she in the loop?" He makes a gesture at same woman, but doesn't bother waiting for a response. "One of the back rooms, through that door and down the stairs. Don't know which one, but I'm sure you'll be able to find that suit." He grins a bit, showing some missing teeth, and missing the fangs of a vampire.


Those down in the basement already might notice the lights brightening just a hair, possibly becoming slightly more red as well. No one seems to pay it much mind.

[Trenchfoot]

Though he wasn't actually wearing the suit and slacks, his imagination combined with the appearance was actually pretty fun. Maks hadn't worn something like this since a funeral for a friend a few years ago, so he comes out of the back room stepping high, the pants riding up to the top of the socks. After a moment, he regains his composure; his goal had been to tease the gentleman who had grimaced at him, not to embarrass the man!

Still, he had already entered the room; to change, or even to attempt to fade from view, was impossible. As best he can, Maks, wearing Patrick's face, makes his way toward the exit of the casino, passing by the bar...

[daelrog]

Tristram waved Patrick's concern off. "I don't think so. He's a bit quirky, that's all." Tristram looked away as if he was done with the conversation. Then, thinking better of it, and realizing there was no one else to speak to without getting up, he turned back to the kindred. "I don't think we've met before."

[Shieldheart]

"Quirky? Seems to me he's got a death wish." Patrick muttered darkly, looking back to the door. Should he just run out and confront the damn Rat? He didn't want to make a scene. Losing face here in Camarilla land would be bad. Which was exactly why he did not like a Nosferatu walking around looking like him.

A sudden thought made him relax and smile instead. He leaned against the chair and took a sip of vitae. Yeah. That could work. It wouldn't matter what the Rat did, short of spitting on the Prince's face.

"Hmmm? Yeah, I don't think I've seen you around either." Patrick said in response to the other's comment. "Name's Patrick. Rothstein." He did not divulge any more than that. If the Kindred knew anything about the city, he'd know the name and what came with it. "Who're you then?"

[Deadlykire]

"This lovely young lady is just accompanying me for a night out on the town. I just needed to meet with my friend for a brief moment." Erebus was clearly being vague but indicating the woman was not fully informed. "Thanks for the information. I'll check it out." Erebus heads off towards the back with the woman. Best to keep her close. I'm sure she'd go "missing" if I left her here. I do hope this Patrick has chosen a brighter room, I hate how Kindred keep to the shadows.

[Jjeinn-tae]

The bartender still hasn't stopped his grin, when his brow raises as "Patrick" walks up the stairs.

"Or he'll just walk up the stairs." he mutters to himself and Erebus. He continues, notably nervous, "Ah, Mr. Rothstein is there a problem? A Mr..." he trails off, hoping someone will fill it in from there.

[daelrog]

"Tristram. Say... you seem like a kindred who knows his ups from his downs. There's somoene I've been looking for, Pakistani girl, bit of a hellraiser if you know what I mean. Heard of any such person lately?"

No in this city seemed to know who it was. Tristram was beginning to wonder if he was kidnred at all, or if the woman who had embraced him was truly a phantom. If that was the case, what did that make him?

[Shieldheart]

Patrick tilted his head and looked at Tristram quizzically. "Pakistani chick? Hmm. Doesn't ring any bells off hand."Did he even know any Kindred from those parts? He wondered what this man wanted with the woman. Lover? Childe? Bounty?

He drained the glass of vitae and sighed slightly. It wasn't the same as feeding from the source, but it was better than nothing. "What kind of hell has this girl raised then? Any that make a good story? I'm bored."

Adding 1 blood point from the glass of vitae.

[Deadlykire]

Erebus notes the man doesn't respond to the bartender's hail. "Seems that is not who you thought it was. At least I know what the suit looks like now." Erebus takes the woman on his arm and gently continues down the stairs through the door the barkeep indicated earlier. Erebus starts poking his head into rooms to take note of the patrons within.

[daelrog]

Tristram looked the other way for a moment. Cocky one, wasn't he? Then again, he could hardly balme Patrick Rothstein, Mr. Suit-and-Tie. Any human with the kind of money to get that kind of wear would be arrogant to regardless of having the blood of Caine or not.

"Good story, eh? How about one night you're drinking with your buddies only to find some spicy young thing wanting to dance. Imagine that night being like a drunk, horny, tunnel-visioned dream you never thought you'd wake up from. Next thing you know, you're covered in who-know-whose blood, and running away from something you don't even know, if there's anything at all."

He leaned forward. "And here's the catch. You realize that lithe little l.ynx has been there your whole life, watching all this time, never aging, always acting as part of the scenery 'til that night. Now that you're one of the walking dead, fighting off inner demons you never knew existed, and the Miss is gone like the wind." Tristram scoffed at the whole stiuation. "Wouldn't mind a few answers, but I suppose she's long gone from this place."

[Shieldheart]

Patrick let out a low whistle. So, this chick was Tristram's Sire. He chuckled, shaking his head. It had always been a little hard for him to understand how other Clans went around Embracing people at a whim. It was a privilege earned in Giovanni and not earned easy.

"Don't envy you, sucker." He said, putting his feet up on the table. "I don't even wanna know how hard it's been for you. We can be damn bastards when we wanna be, can't we?" He smiled, showing his teeth.

"When was this then? You still a noob in the land of the dead? Sire-less vamps have it tough, I hear. You manage to get the Camarilla's protection? You know what Clan you are?" Patrick had to admit, he was slightly intrigued. He had heard a lot about these "bite-and-runs" from other Kindred, but he'd never met one who had it happen to him. Tristram was a curiosity.

[daelrog]

"Few months ago, so yeah, guess that makes me a noob."

He tilted his head back, as if what he was doing was dragging back memeories from far longer than just three months. "In truth, Maks, the guy who walkedo ut with your face, was the first kindred I met. Showed me the do's and do not's. Talked to my father by the phone awhile back when it happened. Guess it turns out he's a ghoul or something, makes it pretty clear why my mother left him and brought me to the states." In truth, he didn't really have a good first impression of Patrick, but at the moemtn he was someone who was listening. "Others say it's pretty clear that a sire from South Asia, and the ability to creat illusions makes me a Ravnos. I hear that's supposed to be a bad thing. What about you? Are you one of the Camarilla blokes?"

[Jjeinn-tae]

Those in the bar might notice the bartender becoming increasingly uneasy as they leave the area. Nervously he moves to wash dishes.

Maks
Leaving the bar results in you leaving the dark "corner" of the building, saddled in between the Casino Floor, and the Hotel. Heading across the Casino displays many at the tables and slots. Most are losing their savings, but a casual glance shows some nervous shuffling of the staff at a certain guest. Knowing the ownership here, that could be dangerous.

Regardless, heading out of the Horseshoe leaves you on the "Fremont Experience" a intersection with a prominent hotel on each corner. The winter storms have left quite a bit of snow on the streets, and water drips from the electrical lighting, mixing with the slight snow fall.

You hang parallel to the Fremont Hotel, and head down an alleyway to start on the path to the Nosferatu Warren. While it is true that Vegas still has a walk in sewer system in place in some areas, the Nosferatu travel through a certain pipe just barely large enough to crawl through, leading you directly below the Fremont. The pipe has an opening that leads to a good sized artificial cave complex, which following through leads to the artificial lighting of the Subterra Gambling Hall, the entrance to the rest of the Warrens. As far as you've been able to tell, this hall is just for show, a private joke for the Nosferatu.

While you haven't really been "acquainted" with much of anyone down here, you know the names of a couple of the more important Nosferatu in the Warrens. The Primogen, "Adam," should be about, as well as Ramone. Ramone works as an informant for the clan, and probably who you met with last time you were about. The meeting hall would be a good place to look for either of them.

[Deadlykire]

Erebus continues checking rooms until he notices someone matching the description he was given. He notices the man is talking to someone else, so he takes a seat at a nearby table. Erebus pulls out the chair nearest the man for his guest before sitting across from her. Erebus sits so that he faces the man and keeps an eye on him, looking expectantly. Erebus then engages the woman in idle chit chat. Don't want supper running off just yet after all; she is such a pretty young thing too.

[Shieldheart]

Patrick let out a bark of laughter. "Me? Camarilla? Hell, no!" He grinned at Tristram and wondered just how much to say. Patrick had only been Embraced six months ago himself. He had yet to come to terms with his Beast. He didn't even like thinking about it. But he had known of Giovanni and of the Kindred ever since the night of the Proxy Kiss and that he knew far more about the world of night that Tristram did.

So Tristram had learnt his ropes from a Sewer Rat and suspected he was Ravnos, of all Clans. Funny, as far as Patrick knew there were a few scattered Ravnos in the city of sin. Maybe this Sire of his had ditched town after all. Ravnos liked to stick together so far as he knew. Not that he knew much about them. No call to.

Someone else came in and sat down at the table opposite. Two someones, one of them quiet delicious. Patrick glanced at the Kindred and then at the kine.

It was bad form to stare at someone elses' food, but that didn't mean he couldn't be tempted. He wished he was back home or at the office, feeding. When would this damn contact get here? He hadn't been given a description or a name. It was up to the other guy to find him and hopefully fast.

"I'm Giovanni." He said to Tristram. "Heard of us? I think I know a couple of Ravnos around town. If you're looking for your Sire, they'll be the ones to know. I can lead you to them." He smiled. "For the right price."

[daelrog]

Tristram let out a loud laugh, one not becoming of a kindred. "The Giovannis, dealing with them is like dealing with the devil. Big on family, big on other things too. Then again, it's a lot better than what's said about my family." He smiled, and leaned back. "I think Maks and his friends could help me out, without giving up an arm and a liver."

He glanced at Erebus and the woman. It was distasteful as a human to watch such a scene, the smooth talker seducing the woman in the dress, not that he himself had played the role a number of times. It was slightly more nauseating knowing he was not itnerested in sex.

[Shieldheart]

Patrick chuckled. "Ooh, you wound me. We aren't all that bad...as long as you don't mess with us." He glanced again at the couple at the other table, before looking back at Tristram.

"Besides, I'm really not sure what I'd do with your liver." He cocked an eyebrow at Tristram.

"You think about my offer. I'm in the yellow books." A night out looking for shady Ravnos would be a pleasant diversion.

[Deadlykire]

Noticing the other Kindred looking over several times Erebus decides to take action himself. Erebus approaches his contact "My guest and I are going to go grab a room. I shall be back in 15 minutes." With that Erebus turns and takes his guest by the arm before heading up to the main floors to grab a room.

ooc:
Pausing in case Patrick wishes to take action. Otherwise I'd continue up to the room and get my "friend" settled in before returning to the bar.

[daelrog]

Tristram turned away fro mEebus to hide his expression of mild disgust. When he was out of the room, he commented on the matter. "Tell me Patrick, how does one get used to it? The whole 'kine' thing. Manipulating and feeding off of every day people. Seems a bit unsettling to me. Is it one of those things that gets easier over time, or are you just born into it?"

[Shieldheart]

Patrick raised an eyebrow as Erebus approached him. So, this was his contact after all. He nodded to show that he had understood. It wasn't fair, he thought, as he watched the Kindred walk away with the luscious woman. Here he was, starving and his contact was off securing his meal.

Tristram's question jolted Patrick. He should have expected it, he supposed. He looked at Tristram, wondering what to say, wishing there was some vitae left in his glass.

"I don't know. What do you want me to tell you?" He shrugged. For a moment, he was content to leave it at that. But he could taste the blood in his mouth and remember the stricken look on the face of the first girl he'd killed and the wonderful, incredible sensation of drinking her life fluid as she died.

"People look at it in different ways. You wanna know about me? I'm a businessman. Before I ever started leeching blood off of people, I was fleecing them of their money. I was manipulating them and 'feeding' off them. I know vamps in my line of work who rationalize drinking blood the same way.

"I don't. Like I said before, we're all sick bastards at heart. If you're not, you won't last long in the night. Believe me. Better embrace your nature. Better to trick the kine, than try to live with them 'peacefully' or rule over them openly. We both get hurt less that way."

[daelrog]

"Yeah, maybe. Just doesn't settle too well to enjoy it so much." Tristram stood up, signifying he was about to leave. "Thanks for the words, and the drinks. This is your place, right?" He didn't know anything about Patrick Rothstein, except for the name that owned Elysium tonight, and now the face in front of him.

[Shieldheart]

Patrick shrugged at Tristram's reply. "I can understand that." He said quietly. "You'll get used to it. You'll hate it all the way...but it'll get easier. There's a reason we're called the Damned." He smiled again.

He raised his eyebrows when it appeared Tristram thought Patrick owned this place. "No, man. This is Camarilla territory. Here, I'm as much of a nobody as you."

"Well, not as much of a nobody." He added after a while. He took out his cell phone and flipped it open. "Here, give me your number. Giovanni or no, I'm a good guy to know. Plus, I think I'd like a Ravnos on my call list. You seem to be in with the Rats too. I can use that."

[daelrog]

"You can use that, eh? I thought you're supposed to use words like that only after I'm under your thumb. Thought you were supposed to lure me in with sweet talks of partnership and all, and then admit using me once the deed was done." Tristram gave the kindred his number anyway, and made his way for the exit.

He'd let the Giovanni leave a message if he called.

[Deadlykire]

Erebus walks to the front desk and obtains a room for himself and his food. He then stops by the bar upstairs and gets a bottle of champagne. The two continue to their room. Erebus continues his seduction before he begins to feed. Afterwards Erebus leaves the woman a note in flowing script.
"I enjoyed our time together. Thank you for a wonderful evening, Erebus"

Erebus then heads back down to the bar and finds his contact again.



Erebus always feeds from the femoral artery in these situations. Erebus then licks the wound closed.Going for only 2 points of vitae.
Seduction rolls (if needed; guessed at Charisma/Subterfuge): [roll0]
Rolls to hold her down (also if needed;Str/Athletics): [roll1]

[Shieldheart]

Patrick shook his head. So easily riled; this one was still young, alright.

"Come on, man. Don't be so stiff. I can use you and you can use me. It's cool. All out in the open. Just business. I don't do the whole 'spider-web' thing. You can be frank with me."

He copied down the number Tristram gave him and shouted out a Nice to meet you! as the Ravnos left. Then, he settled down to wait.

After a while, the Kindred who had left came back in. Patrick stood up and extended a hand. "Hi. Patrick Rothstein. You're the one I'm supposed to meet with?"

[Deadlykire]

Erebus looks at Patrick's outstretched hand. He looks back at Patrick and gives him a nod."Erebus Te'Kra. You'll forgive me for not shaking your hand. Yes, I've been told to deal with you by those above me." Erebus takes a seat where in the middle of the table across from Patrick."You are Giovanni yes? What can we help you with?"

[daelrog]

Tristram felt the hot wind brush against his face. Mr. Rothstein was a bit too comfortable with laying his sins to bare.

A dark, wicked smile crept on Tristram's face for a moment, while it was covered in shadow by the casino's overhead.

Break the Giovanni, and ignite what's left on fire.

A gasp for air, the neonate looked around to see no one paying any attention. A vold shiver went up Tristram's spine. He had no idea how one wold 'break' a Giovanni, and did not care to explore the possibilities.

Tristram let out a sigh, and began to walk. He could call it an early night, but something demnaded he wander the city streets, for just awhile longer if nothing else. Something was calling to him.

[Shieldheart]

Patrick raised an eyebrow, both at the strange name and the no-handshake thing, but let them pass. "I forgive you." He said solemnly, before breaking into a grin. "Yes, I am Giovanni. May I ask what Clan you are from, before we get down to business?"

He sat down, making himself comfortable. He had been his contact would find him and here he was. By the look of the man, he wasn't Ventrue or Toreador. Brujah, perhaps? He hoped he wasn't Malkavian or Tremere. Patrick had had bad experiences with both.

[Deadlykire]

Erebus lets out a deep smooth sounding chuckle. "Ah so you seek the Camarilla, not us. I believe we are "lovingly" referred to as warlocks. Hence my hesitation to shake hands." Erebus gives the man a sadistic yet lighthearted smile with his last comment. "So tell me how I might be of assistance to you today." Erebus then hails a waiter to order a glass of Vitae he'd seen others drinking this night.

[Shieldheart]

Patrick sighed. Just his luck. He returned Erebus' smile, allowing himself a moment to think on what the other Kindred had said.

It seemed whoever his handler was hadn't handed him much information either if he didn't know Patrick was here to meet with a Camarilla contact. It was an intriguing thought, though. What did Clan Tremere, as opposed to the Camarilla, have to offer Giovanni?

For that matter, what did dear Papa and Mama have in mind for them? Surely they had known he was going to be meeting with a Tremere and they had not thought to tell Patrick. This was another test, undoubtedly.

"No need to exert yourself tonight, friend." Patrick said, adopting a leisurely pose, draping one arm around the handle of his chair. "This is just the preliminary. I've been acting as the Giovanni...representative to the Camarilla for a few months now. You know, disputes over territory and authority and silly little things like that. You're my first Tremere. Since neither of us have been told anything else, I imagine this is just our first date. No heavy business. Let's just get to know each other." Patrick said.

[Deadlykire]

This one really is new to the Tremere."Please, then tell me what I need to know to make working with you easier." Erebus notices the waiter return with his beverage and takes it. "Thanks." Erebus takes a sip and grimaces. I hate how this stuff tastes, always so stale.

[daelrog]

Tristram’s curse, he felt it sing out into his soul. It resonated through his blood, and crept onto his tongue. What had that she-devil done to him? It was not like the movies where an imp sat on his shoulder, nor was it some alternate personality. It was him, yet only different.

This city reeked something deeply, and it was giving him a euphoric feeling. He was full than not, but there was still room for blood. Then again, it would take something special to whet his appetite

[Shieldheart]

Patrick tried to take a read on this Erebus. He was formal. Was it a facade, carefully maintained to allow dispassionate observation? What he had heard of Tremere would lend weight to that idea. He'd always hated this dancing around the real topic.

"I am a straightforward person. Diplomacy is not my strong suit. Negotiations are." He smiled. "There is a difference between the two. He snapped a finger at the retreating waiter, asking for another glass of vitae. Better than nothing.

"I like open, frank discussions of whatever issue is being discussed. As open as we Kindred are capable of being, anyhow. He knew he was spewing bull. It sounded like those spiels about 'enhanced co-operation' and 'enriched communicative experience' they went on about at business symposiums.

"Let me tell you what I had been talking about with my Ventrue contact just last week. I took over a casino recently, for my family. Now, it so happened that the owner's owner was a Ventrue ghoul. Tough. I didn't know about it. So I sat down with the Ventrue and we discussed the issue and we came to an amicable solution. We helped the Ventrue get in touch with our family in New York. You know that's Sabbat territory. We helped them there and now we're even." He accepted the glass of vitae from the waiter and took a sip.

"That's what I do. I negotiate, trade information and opportunities, help expand Giovanni influence without stepping on Camarilla toes." He leaned forward and looked Erebus in the eye.

"What do you do then?"

[Deadlykire]

"Ahh a direct person, I can respect that. I tire easily of the games played by Kindred myself. As for what I do, I do what my clan requires of me. I've only recently been awoken to this decade by my sire. For now I just work on what I desire. You are my first real task from the clan." Erebus watches the man drink his glass of vitae. "I do applaud you for being able to drink your vitae. I've yet to adjust to it like this always tastes so stale to me."

[Shieldheart]

Patrick lifted his glass. "This? A bland alternative to the real thing. But when you're thirsty, even this tastes good." He took another sip to illustrate his point.

"That's good though. We should get along just fine then, if you too tire of 'Kindred games'." He didn't believe that for one second, of course. But he had to play along anyway.

"You must think me a strange task, I'm sure." Patrick smiled. "I'm curious. I know why my superiors did not tell me the details for this meeting. Do you know why yours didn't? It seems so...inefficient."

[Deadlykire]

"You wished to speak with and to the Camarilla. I am not permitted to speak on their behalf so my job is merely to report any requests you have to my Elders. This of course means that our meeting is of no consequence to me, as of yet, and thus I needed no information for it to take place. I am sure when I need to know things the information will be relayed to me and thus to you.." Ereubs then sipped at his glass managing to barely hide the disgust of its flavor. I am sure this Kindred will not like his answer, but alas the truth is rarely pleasant... much like this drink.

[Shieldheart]

Ah, the unpleasant reality of dealing with the Camarilla. They always looked down their nose at you. Like holding this meeting in this godforsaken hovel. Their insults knew no bounds.

Patrick reflected that he was not a good diplomat, just as he'd said. He lost his temper too quickly. But he couldn't afford to show it. Not to his new acquaintance.

"That's the price for dealing with the Camarilla." He smiled, a little strained. He rolled the vitae in the glass, suppressing a urge to fling it at the other's face. Of no consequence...

"We Giovanni are...ambitious." He said, looking up at Erebus. "I know we share that with the Tremere, though we are more concerned with worldly power than you seem to be. In any case, one of the reasons I have been specifically given the task of envoy to the Camrilla is because we intend to expand."

He leaned forward, speaking quietly.

"We intend to make Vegas ours. Tell that to your superiors."

Patrick stood up, setting his half-finished glass of vitae on the table. "It was nice to meet you, Erebus. Hope we can do business together for a long time."

He shut the door on his way out.

Rolling Charisma+Intimidation to impress upon Erebus Patrick's seriousness in saying what he did.

[roll0]

Edit: Darn it! Rolling again in the OOC.

[Deadlykire]

Erebus finishes off his glass of vitae and then heads out. Vanessa needs to hear about this. Hopefully she'll know what to do, He mused as he drove through the night. Erebus headed towards the Tremere haven. Vanessa may not be there, but I hate traveling to her personal haven.

[Shieldheart]

Patrick regretted that little outburst as soon as he was out the door. It wasn't that he'd let out anything meaningful; the whole point of all this politics was power in the end. But losing his temper and making an overt threat was very gauche. When word reached Father and Mother, they wouldn't be pleased.

Damn them. Patrick thought as he hightailed it out the door. His chauffeur, Steven, had the car ready already. Patrick slipped in, settling into the plush leather with a sigh.

"Home, Steven. Take the north gate. Don't want to run into my parents. Also, tell Lauren to have dinner ready. I'm thirsty."

It was going to be a long night.

[daelrog]

Tristram continued to walk, the lights seemed to dim, and the people’s voices grew more and more quiet.

Hey you.

What?

You know what.

Tristram closed his eyes, his body sliding past a suit and tie in a hurry. He did not even know the man was there, or that he had moved in any way but directly forward. He opened them again, and the buildings were all on fire, and the streets were paved in blood. It was beautiful.

You understand now.

No, I do not understand.

You will.

The streets were as they were, and Tristam was left shaken. He was several blocks north of where he thought he had just been, and he no longer craved for blood. The Ravnos was too sickened with himself to feed. Maybe he would head home early, and tomorrow he would be a man once again. Then again, this dream had gone on this far. Even the hot wind of Nevada seemed cold this night.

[Jjeinn-tae]

The night grows late, and as you all have parted ways the dreary weather seems to clear up a bit in preparation for the sunrise still hours off. Still the streets of Vegas are bustling as ever, heedless of any change in weather at all.

Erebus:
It does not take much driving till you come across the casino the Tremere have made their own. The Stratosphere, tallest building in the state provides a great view for their council of the surrounding city.

Taking the elevator to the top, you reach a floor inaccessible to the public, which by now you have become very familiar with. Vanessa sits in the lobby at a table pouring over a tome, her long black hair almost obscuring her face from your view at the elevator. Its almost unusual to see her there actually, she rarely seems to read anything despite the norm for your clan.

She doesn't look up, nor address you when you enter the lobby, but its unlikely she has not noticed you.

Tristram:
As if on queue, just as the lights and sounds of the city start flooding back to you; your cellphone rings. Seeming loud even while that fog hangs over all the other "real" sensations.

Patrick:
Steven glances up in the rear-view mirror momentarily raising a eyebrow before returning his gaze to the road. "That bad then; say no more, say no more." He reaches over a bit to turn on speaker momentarily. "Lauren, please have a meal ready for master Patrick."

Steven drives in silence until you reach a very familiar stretch of road from your life; just a few more turns and you'd be at the north gate. He then once again glances up at you in his mirror, albeit away from the lights of the casinos, he probably cannot see you. Oh yes, master Patrick, it seems you are being noticed. Another kindred sent message to you, Lasombra."

[daelrog]

Without thinking too hard on it, Tristram opened the phone. "Hello?" It was either work, a wrong number, or something he didn't want to talk to.

[Deadlykire]

"Must we play this game mistress? I do not have much from my little errand, but I do have something. I'll be in the library catching up on what I've missed." Erebus turns and promptly heads towards the clan's library.Let us see how the Tremere have used my research, I know what Vanessa said she did with it....but.....

[Shieldheart]

Patrick raised an eyebrow. "Lasombra? Curious."
What did the Sabbat want with him?

"Well, what's the message?"

[Jjeinn-tae]

Erebus:
It doesn't take much walking until you reach the library, Venessa not even moving a muscle at your passing. The room has the large windows common to the building, but these don't let the sun in.

Tonight, the library is empty, beyond the soon to be outgoing Tremere council member, who was going as John last you saw. After he got hit with Dementation last month he's been at least one different person everyday.

He probably won't bother you if you leave him be.

Patrick:
"Well you know the Lasombra, always looking for ways to expand their influence. I imagine they saw you meeting with the Tremere and felt left out." Steven chuckles a bit. "They sent a letter, you'll find it in the pocket on your door.

The letter, still sealed in it's manila envelope, wouldn't look out of place as a report in an intelligence agency. Inside, a simple note, giving no indication of sender, yet not written in the formality of your average business proposal, if that's indeed what this is. It's almost formatted like a poem, but it's without the poetry.

"There are rumblings on the horizon
shifting powers, shifting tides
much green could be in our future
should the wind blow you my way"

"That was delivered by a woman while you were meeting. If you're still curious, I'm to give you a place and a time."

Tristram:
You are greeted by the "soothing" sound of Maksimillian's voice, filtered through a poor phone on his end. "Vegas still manages to be worse than I thought. There's some trouble on the air some of the other Nossies have been following. A hunter's been running amok and bein too successful. Nobody's quite sure how he does it, but he's definitely not someone to run into in a dark alley.

There is something the Nos would be very happy to have you help with if you're still interested."

[Deadlykire]

Erebus browsed the library until he found something that looked promising, "Blood and Magic". Clearly a newer item with a title like that... maybe he'd recognize something in it. He snatched the tome off the shelf and sat down to read while he waited for Vanessa.

[daelrog]

"Sounds like bad news, buddy. Last time I checked you Nossies were supposed to be badass. What do they need from me?"