Blood and Politics

[appending_doom]

The November chill of Washington fills the air as night falls; the early November evening is dark, as clouds have been gathering for days, creating a heavy shroud of night from Arlington to Baltimore.

And for days, too, have strangers been gathering in the city. Centered in Crystal City (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Crystal_City,_Virginia), the arrivals have nominally gathered for the Annual Conference of the International Inventory Resource Management Association. The hotels in Crystal City have filled quickly in the past weeks, and now, it is hard to find a room not occupied by one of these inventory resource management experts.

If anyone notices how strange some of these accountants appear to be, they only conclude that Inventory Resource Management is an admirably diverse field.

Of course, this group has less diversity than one might imagine: every attendant to this conference suffers from the same disease, the Curse of Caine. And they have come at the call of the Justicars of the Camarilla, at the behest of Daria Jefferson, the Ancilla Prince of Washington, one of the longest-lived Princes in the New World. Some two months ago, she set out the call for a Conclave of the vampires of America, though others have heard the call and have heeded it.

And tonight it begins. The Crystal City DoubleTree Hilton (http://doubletree1.hilton.com/en_US/dt/hotel/DCAAEDT-DoubleTree-by-Hilton-Hotel-Washington-DC-Crystal-City-Virginia/index.do) is hosting the Conclave itself, and by six PM, vampires are beginning to gather near the main meeting hall.

Rules

Everyone who checked into a hotel for the Inventory Resource Management Conference has received the pamphlet, which, among other things, lays out Jefferson's rules within her Domain, and for the Conclave.

- The DoubleTree Hilton in Crystal City is Elysium.
- None shall feed within Arlington County.
- No vampire will act upon or feed upon any legislator, Cabinet member, or the President or Vice President of the United States within this Domain.

These are explicitly the ways that Jefferson maintains the Masquerade in Washington.

[Strawberries]

Amy Everett, "Evaz"

Amy stands, looking over the people gathering there, but a bit to the side. A bit away from the crowd. She'd like to pretend that it is from aloofness, but the truth is, she is a bit nervous. Okay, more than a bit nervous, if she has to be honest with herself. This is the first big meeting of Kindreds she attends and she feels very new and clumsy. Her sire... well, Michael seems perfectly at ease: she spots him talking quietly with a big, burly man, and he seems to not be paying attention to her at all.

She is under disguise, as Michael himself is, but just because there may be mortals still around. Admittedly, Mike's appearance is a lot more refined than her own: he is walking around as the dark-haired, charming young man he usually choses to be around the unawares, while she barely bothered to disguise herself as normal: brown eyes, brown hair hanging limp, a somewhat asimmetrical face, and an entirely forgettable body - she even retained the tiniest hint of a hump: easier than to change her posture completely.

Mike has brought her there with one instruction only: Observe and learn., and that is precisely what she intends to do. So she is there, watching, trying to guess who are the key people... trying to learn the rules of this game.

OOC ((If there are any objections to Amy walking around under Mask of a thousand Faces for this scene, or I have to roll something please tell me. I assumed she had all the time to prepare before the meeting. She'll drop the disguise as soon as she is sure there are only vampires around.))

[daelrog]

A handsome, dark skinned man approached Amy. He was almost six-feet-tall, just over wearing shoes, and his teet hshowed bleached teeth. He was wearing sunglasses, mirrored-lenses that slightly distorted the face of anyone looking directly into them, and his suit was new and tailored. Not-quite-black, with a pearl-white tie.

"Damien Smith." He extended his hand, his smile growing slightly longer. "Is this your first time? I remember wanting to vomit the first time I had to meet other kindred." He seemed calm and confident enough now though as he looked around. "Tell me, have you seen anywhere where they are serving drinks?"

What he failed to inform Amy of was that it was but a few years ago when he first met other kindred, and he had skipped over hearing her name first to talk about drinks because he was thirsty, so very thirsty, and it was causing his left hand to twitch nervously.

[Ayailla]

Elizabeth Carlton

Elizabeth was dressed up in a figure flattering black evening dress and stunning red heels, her thick blonde hair was pinned up and back out of her face elegantly. She appeared and carried herself with an air of importance, not necessarily cocky but she looked like she fit in the surroundings of the hotel. Black elbow length satin gloves adorned her hands and she pulled the agenda and pamphlet out of her handbag and tucked the purse under her arm as she entered the main boardroom.

Her icy blue eyes briefly scanned the room to absorb the scene, trying desperately to avoid contact with anything or anyone that would ignite her curse before she could get her bearings on the layout of the room. She began to move through the crowds of bodies, appearing to look for someone in particular, though she was really scanning for things. Her mother had called them earlier in the week, she needed to renew her membership at the country club. Elizabeth knew better than to steal from kindred kind but she hadn't heard from her sire in a few weeks and she was beginning to think he had gone sour on his promise to take care of her family. She had hoped to find him here but if he was indeed lost to her, she had to take whatever measures necessary. So she gracefully moved through the people intentionally looking for a stunning piece or the elusive and captivating sire of hers Mr. Michael Walker.

[ChronicLunacy]

Calvin Reed

When he had heard that there was going to be such a large gathering of Kindred in one place, Cal had grabbed the microphone and started talking from dusk until dawn every night for almost a week. Such was the intensity of his rant for his potential new audience that he had abstained from feeding, seeing anyone, or even leaving the truck trailer that was Underdog Public Radio until he was forced to retreat from the day. As a result, the night before the conclave finally began he was feeling drier than he ever had. He felt it in his skin, like it had lost its elasticity and pulled tight whenever he moved. He felt it in his gut, curling in on itself in ravenous hunger.

Deciding not to go to a potentially volatile situation all edgy from hunger, he took a little extra time after waking up to prowl the mid-rise apartment building and surrounding alleyways that was his recognized domain. The building's residents had been conditioned to enjoy the process of feeding so it was all too easy to grab the first blood doll he saw, a twenty-something waitress who lived next door, and pull her into his room. He didn't bother with the foreplay but instead went to it with gusto, hugging her tightly to him and sinking his fangs into her neck. He drank deep, so much that this one would probably sleep for the rest of the night, but not to the point where she would need a hospital. But not draining her dry meant he needed another to sate his thirst. He knocked on the door of a middle-aged divorcee that he'd made part of his little blood harem and she let him right in.

Finally feeling full and sated, Cal Reed left the woman dozing on her couch and made his way back down to the street. The gangs in the area made sure that cab companies didn't regularly hit his part of town. So, he headed underground at the nearest metro station, knowing that was probably the fastest way to get to Arlington at this time of night. He was going to be fashionably late, but if it meant not frenzying in front of everyone and making a scene it was worth it.

Hunting (Cha+Leadership - Diff 4 , -2 Diff from Domain, +2 dice from Herd): [roll0]
Three successes should be enough to easily find two or three members of his herd and get back to full blood points.

[Strawberries]

"No. I haven't seen any drinks. " Amy answers. She refuses to aknowledge her nervousness in front of a stranger: Amy may not be at her best in face-to-face interactions, but she can do self-assured. She can fake self-assured, at the very least."Amy Everett" She introduces herself.

She returns his smile with a faint one of her own. What had Mike said? Connections. Connections are important. "Of the Nosferatu," she adds, in case that wasn't already very clear. "Perhaps you could... try at the Cafe? It's there on the left." An event this big, the bartender has to be informed about the guests' peculiar need, does he not?

[daelrog]

"Yes, perhaps. I only hope they catalogue their varieties..." Damien's eyes searched for the cafe. "Thank you, Amy Everett. Ventrue." He was anxious to get some blood in his drying body, and dropped his perfectly in control demeanor for a few moments, thinking of his meal like a hungry dog. He put his smile back on and turned to Amy to look her in the eye when he spoke. "Forgive me, I'm parched. We can continue our conversation when I am more myself." With a head nod, he headed for the cafe to the side.

As he moved, he caught glimpse of a few interesting characters, but his eyes rested on Elizabeth Carlton from across the room. "Too cruel, baby," he muttered to himself. As a mortal, he would have done anything, anything for a woman that looked that good.

He reached the cafe. "Excuse me sir. Do you have any red wine? Thirteen to eighteen years old... virgin?"

[appending_doom]

The bartender, an obviously still-living human (perhaps a Ghoul?), gives Damien a tight smile. "Afraid not, sir. This is mostly here for the appearance of things. And...well, the few of you who can and do eat."

[SmileyOgre]

Wearing a suit that strangled that fine line between high fashion and gaudy, a man with a lion's mane sat at the cafe, stirring the same martini for the past twenty minutes or so at this point. If he missed any thing about his mortal coil, it was drinking. Well, that and not being dead, but that was a minor complain in comparison to how much he missed a good martini on the rocks. Glancing over at the man who dropped a less-than-subtle hint, he couldn't help but smirk.

"He doesn't even have Chateau Hobo, I fear." the dapper dressed man said, putting his drink down. Really, he only ordered such a thing for old time's sake: He wasn't daft enough to actually DRINK that.

[Ayailla]

Elizabeth quickly grew frustrated with her search. There was something oddly intriguing about the carpet and for a few moments as she walked, she couldn't help but stare at it. She needed a good vantage point to just sit and watch for a few minutes, lest the pattern on the carpet begin to pull her in again. Her mind wandered briefly thinking if he had even bothered to show. She knew he had business in the area this month and if there was to be a grand council there wouldn't be any excuse for him not to be here. A light thump from her gloved hand as she tapped it with the stack of papers she was holding, this was about as much frustration as she was trained to show.

She gave up her search for the moment and sauntered to the cafe area, the bar stools would serve as the observational post she required. She hadn't even noticed the man watching her as she moved to sit down. Once there, she skillfully and gracefully managed to sit on the high stool with her back to the bar despite her tight dress and heels. She tucked the papers neatly back into her purse, smiling softly to the dark-skinned bald man sitting next to her.

"Good evening." Elizabeth mused towards Damien, brushing her gloved fingers across her hairline. Her eyes beginning to scan the crowd yet again.

[Strawberries]

Ventrue. Ventrue... Amy racks her brains to remember which of the clans the Ventrues are. There has been too much information to absorbe in just a small time Arrogant bastards. Bumptious bastards. But useful bastards, at least. she finally remembers Michael saying. Oh, those ones.

Useful bastards. She hesitates for a moment, then follows Damien at the bar. "No luck?" she asks, eyeing the empty counter. She inclines her head in a gesture of greeting towards the other two people sitting down. "Good evening" she replies.

[Dandria]

Jackson Kelsen

The hall of the hotel is swarming with well dressed, busy looking people. Rulers of the Night and grey eminences of the Day, you might say, hidden players of an everlasting, solemn requiem, even, and yet there they are, running around like ants trapped by a fire. Or, like, you know, vampires trapped by a fire. The analogy still holds pretty well.

Jackson is smiling and lying down idly in one of the black leather armchairs placed near the open bar. There’s an untouched French Connection sitting on the table next to him, his gloved hands are tinkering with a golden Rubik’s cube and the lyrics that come out of his headphones are loud enough to be heard from the counter.

What’s that? Is the Rubik’s cube “golden” as in “made out of gold”? Why yes, yes it is! Thanks for asking.

Fifty four tiles of solid gold and each one of them has its own gemstone: nine diamonds, nine sapphires, nine rubies, nine emeralds, nine opals and nine amethysts, for a total of six different colors and enough money to feed a third world country. Anyway, he does not seem to be doing very well: twenty minutes in and he still has not completed a single face.

My, isn't this unbelievably annoying? I should have totally brought the Lamborghini. At least by now I would have already finished with THAT! Stupid thing . . .

He keeps muttering to himself, sighing heavily.

SUBTLETY!

[daelrog]

Damien was about to respond to the man with the martini, when Elizabeth netered, taking the Ventrue's attention away. "Charmed." Damien tilted his head low in deference, but kept his eyes on hers the entire time. Too cruel indeed.

He dismissed the matter to Amy, waving his hand, and giving her his attention. "Apparently this is not the time. Perhaps later this evening drinks will be served." His eyes flashed over Elizabeth's neckline hungrily. Perhaps she could spare a few drops if the night proved a dry one... among other things.

Damien's daydream was interrupted by seeing Jackson over Elizabeth's shoulder. "Tasteless." His southern accent came out more with that word.

[Ayailla]

Cool blue eyes casually observed the crowds, meandering a while until the unshapely woman began to approach. Elizabeth smiled politely, her perfectly arched brow raised ever so slightly with intrigue after she approaches. 'There were so many interesting characters around this evening.' She thought to herself. Her head inclined towards Damien and Amy listening intently as they spoke.

"Seems more than good tidings are in order. This evening could hold quite a lot of things..."

Elizabeth couldn't help but notice Damien's eyes slip, there were very few things that made it by her scrupulous perception after all.

"Introductions being one of them." She continued, her shimmering pink lips stretched into a coy smile.

"My name is Elizabeth. Elizabeth Carlton of the rose." She mused and giggled slightly, offering her gloved right hand to them both. However, in that moment her eyes swept across a creation of inexplicable decadence. Rude mutterings coming from its owner, were quickly shut out as her eyes locked on this ostentatious "game." One which she would especially love to play.


Self Control for clan flaw against this rubix cube :smalltongue:
[roll0]

[Strawberries]

"Amy Everett" Amy introduces herself for the secons time that evening. Of the ro... oh. Those other ones. She eyes Elizabeth, guardedly, before shaking her hand, but she notices that the other's attention is not on her. She follows her gaze to a man playing with, of all things, a Rubik cube. Apparently made of gold - an imitation, surely? But, judging by the fascinated expression of the woman before her, and Damien's coment, she doesn't think that is the case - and she'd wager someone that fancily dressed must know a thing or two more than her about jewelry. This is a madhouse. she thinks to herself. Well, Michael had warned her about that, too. You will encounter some strange characters. - Yeah, bit of an understatement, here, sire She thinks.

[Dandria]

Jackson Kelsen

Wasn’t there supposed to be a three colors corner or. . . what was that, some kind of diagonal? Wait, a diagonal?

He wonders aloud, looking away from the cube with an incredulous look on his face.

Well, that can’t be right! What does that even mean?! Screw this thing, I’m outta here. Damn it, old man, what am I even doing in this place?

By the way: the armchair next to him, the one he keeps staring at, is actually empty, which means that he’s probably talking to himself and has been doing it for quite a while. Now, isn’t that just sad?

Anyway. Sneering sarcastically and slowly shaking his head, the man puts his little contraption down on the mahogany table and takes back his drink. The music pauses for a moment, while one indie track ends and another begins.

[appending_doom]

The music begins to soften, and the voices of the gathered vampires become more focused, less an undirected sussurus and more anticipatory whispering. Some small knots of people begin drifting towards the main conference hall; most, however, remain where they are.

There is a subtle shift in the atmosphere of the room, even taking into account the quieting and the groups leaving the hall.

@all

Perception+Alertness

[appending_doom]

@dandria, strawberries

You see that there is a tighter knot of vampires near the entrance.


@daelrog & ayailla

You catch a glimpse of a somewhat short, stocky woman whose coloring suggests indeterminate Mediterranean, or possibly African, descent. She is dressed in a pink pantsuit and carrying a similarly-shaded briefcase. Half a dozen vampires are clustered around her.

Intelligence + Etiquette

[daelrog]

Damien looked back to the group. Whatever the commotion was about, it was indeed important, but not knowing what exactly it was, and who she was, made it more of a liability than an opportunity.

"Damien Smith of Clan Ventrue. The pleasure is mutual." Although Elizabeth had said nothing of it being a 'pleasure' Damien not so subtley implied that indeed, he was a pleasurable company as well. He reached and delicately cupped her hand beneth with his, and left and kiss on the glove that was only a moment longer than casual.

"Should we move closer to see who the distinguished arrival is?" He then turned to both Amy, and the man with the lion's mane, who had yet to introduce himself. Even Elizabeth's intrigue and beauty could not pull the Ventrue out of Damien and he would certainly not deny himself the opportunity to make an impression on these two as well. With a friendly nod he indicated he was asking them as well.

[ChronicLunacy]

Calvin Reed

While everyone else may have dressed up like they were going to the freaking opera, Cal finally showed up in a leather jacket and a t-shirt that read, "Dip me in chocolate and throw me to the lesbians!" along with ripped jeans, combat boots, and fingerless leather gloves. Most of it had metal studs or chains on it and the jacket was adorned with a multitude of patches for different punk and rock bands like the Misfits skull that took up most of Cal's back. He had piercings in his ears and one eyebrow and his hair was bleached blonde and spiked up in every random direction.

At least he looked well-fed and in what passed for a good mood amongst the Brujah.

Per+Alert: [roll0] (3 successes)

[Strawberries]

Amy's consideration of the Ventrue before her drops several points as she sees him flirting with Elizabeth. Not that it was that high to begin with. Completely under the effect of a pretty face. Men or Kindred, I guess the Embrace doesn't change their nature that much. she thinks scathingly to herself.I could have had the same effect, with a bit more effort on my part - except I don't want to. Even when she was mortal, Amy had never cared too much about phisical appaerance...or people basing their behaviour on it.

"Has someone arrived?" So that's what the commotion at the door was about. She cranes her neck, trying to see better. Next time, I'll make myself a little taller It hadn't occurred to her that she could, now. "Yeah, I guess. I can't see anything from here."

[Ayailla]

Elizabeth's smile towards Amy was soft and polite. Gratefully she had not been transfixed by the object that the apparently insane man was holding. It had however sparked her curiosity, her head tilted slightly upward catching the changing scene. She noted the woman in the loud pink outfit and remarked the scene with an audible, hmpfhh.

Her hand was still outstretched as she brought her gaze quickly back over the man conversing with the chair next to him and to Damien as he made his introductions. She would 'get back' to this mad man later on in the evening... if time permitted. Elizabeth couldn't help but giggle at Damien's assumption. His blatant foibles served him well in her eyes, though she didn't mind the attention. She nodded simply and retracted her hand then reached in her purse and pulled out a small black card with her name, phone number and email address printed in gold ink. There is also tagline on the bottom that reads "Touch of Perfection." She hands this over to Damien discretely, cloaking it in her glove.

Elizabeth looks again to the commotion, "It does seem that a rather important guest has arrived doesn't it? Perhaps it is our Prince." She makes no motion to leave however, or even offer to lead the movement herself. Her mind had wandered again to a more pressing issue.

[SmileyOgre]

Adam, who had become almost entirely obsessed with just how perfectly his drink looked when he tapped the side of his glass, the small ripples being perfectly hypnotic... Oh! ****! He didn't even introduce himself! Being an undead creature of the night with what could only be described as vampiric ADD was still no excuse for bad manners!

"Adam, Adam Crane... Toreador." the degenerate said to the blue blood with a smile as he intentionally pushed his drink away.

[daelrog]

"Charmed." Damien took Adam's hand and gave it one, short power squeeze before letting go. "Shall we?" He motioned to Adam to follow Elizabeth, offering himself to take up the rear of the march towards the short woman. He was slightly annoyed at not knowing who it was, but attributed it to his hunger.

Damien's sire wasn't here. That was one thing he was sure of. He could only hope that no one sympathetic to the monster was either. THis was his chance to make something of himself, to cast off the cold, rusted chains that were on him.

[Dandria]

Jackson Kelsen

Slowly waving his glass and feigning an elaborate yawn, Jackson looks around the hall with a bored air. His right hand, left to itself, still plays with the jeweled toy.

Maybe, if I turned this. . . or, you know, these other ones, I could. . . hey is that a knot? By Jingo, who are these guys?! What a bunch of mainstream sheep! God, this sickens me.

And yet he stands up, retrieves his cube and starts walking toward the small crowd. Alternative!

[appending_doom]

The tight knot of vampires thins, slightly, as the group approaches, although the woman's entourage remains as close; anyone who approaches can see that the vampires are of obviously different clans - a Nosferatu, a Gangrel, a well-built bodyguard that must be a Brujah, a pair of immaculately-dressed twins who could either be Toreador or Ventrue, and a twitchy man who wears his black suit uncomfortably, whose constant searching speaks of deep-seated paranoia, and likely Malkavian ancestry.

[Strawberries]

Amy's eyes are immediately attracted by the Nosfetatu in the group I guess Mike was right: we do step up to important positions...and hey, if he is going around like that, I guess I can here, too, right?. Amy can't rationally say why being disguised makes her so uncomfortable, but there's no denying that it does. She barely contains a frustrated huff. Unless it isn't a breach of etiquette...what is the damned etiquette in this cases, anyway?

((Can I roll something to see if I know if it's appropriate to "come out" in this circumstances? I'm thinking Perception+Etiquette?))

[Strawberries]

((Sorry for the double post, guys))

Amy turns to Damien and the other two "Excuse me for just a minute" she says, looking around for a place which is more or less private and out of the way. The women's restroom will do perfectly. Strange, how those places keep being useful even after one is dead. She walks swiftly in that direction, closes the door after herself and shifts back to her natural form.

She returns to the others in less than a minute. Of her appearance, only her jeans and T-shirt have stayed the same. The rest...well, Amy is perfectly aware that she looks like the monster of some B-movie, with her yellowish skin and the scales around her eyes. "Amy Everett" she says to Elizabeth and Damien, grinning and showing her fangs. Almost daring the others to show discomfort. "The same one than before, without fancy masks on.".

[daelrog]

Damien smiled back. He still had a mortal passion for beauty, but he was not appalled by the opposite. He had already seen the Nosferatu in number before, and did not panic, at least ever sicne the first time. "Masks are overrated. Useful, but we seem to be in good company."

He turned back to where the woman seemingly with status was. He wanted to speak to her, but not knowing who she was made that impossible. No, he was not so foolish to speak to his better blindly. At least that much had been ingrained in his mind since the embraced. If the woman looked his way, he would nod in deference, but that was all, for now at least.

[SmileyOgre]

Adam's reaction to Amy was one that most Toreador would have: First a look that could best be described as "oh sweet Jesus up in heaven what is wrong with your face", then as any one with an ounce of tact he swiftly covered it up with a look of "oh well yes you are a hideous sin against humanity ain't you". The Degenerate glanced at Damian's comment on mask, and could only think I respectfully disagree.

He couldn't help but flash a smile over at the twins, happily distracted with them as opposed to the Nosferatu. Ah, pretty things were just so much... BETTER! In general!

[Ayailla]

Elizabeth nodded a greeting to Adam. "A sibling of the blood. It is a pleasure to meet you Adam, I am Elizabeth, Elizabeth Carlton." She smiled and tucked a tuft of her golden hair behind her ear, she couldn't help but glance at the group of important kindred, feeling somehow connected to them.

She looked back to her small group, the Nosferatu woman having returned in a most horrid form. She didn't look entirely disgusted but she was certainly uncomfortable. Not being sure what to say in that moment she simply smiled as warm and friendly as she could. Though she did feel the need to comment after she saw Adam's repulsive looks.

"Well umm, Amy. I am glad you feel comfortable enough to show your true self. Few many of us are able to these days."

Herself included, she looked over the thinning crowd and edged slightly closer heightening her sense of hearing to see what she could gather from the group.

[ChronicLunacy]

Skirting the edge of the big-wig in the tasteful pink pantsuit and her crowd of suckups, poseurs, and hangers on, Cal made his way inside. As he took in the surroundings, he sucked his teeth loudly then spat onto the carpet. He rubbed it in with the toe of one dirty, steel-tipped boot.

[daelrog]

An opportunity.

Damien tilted his head towards Cal, Damien announced loud enough for the woman in pink and her retinue to hear. "Would it please the room if the rabble was informed of kindred etiquette?"

In truth, Damien was just guessing that Cal was a Brujah, but even if wrong, few would blame him for thinking someone with steel toed boots and an obvious angst towards authority was anything but. Fewer things irked elders more than anarchs, or resentful neonates who acted like anarchs. He'd fall on the sword this time.

[appending_doom]

The woman in pink glances at the small group, and passes over Calvin before alighting on Damien. She tilts her head, staring at the group, before straightening and nodding to her retinue, who shift around her.


[roll0]


Seven vampires, six of almost stereotypically different clans, and the seventh, the woman in pink, indeterminate, approach the small group. The woman's mouth is graced by a tiny smile, one that just reveals her fangs; an almost demure demonstration of her power.

"I hope you trust I can school any Childe about the etiquette of our people whenever I so choose," she say to Damien. "Greetings. I am Daria Jefferson, Prince of Washington for...quite some time. I am...unfamiliar with some of you." The pause after she speaks is unmistakably an invitation to introduce oneself, the retinue gathered around her a clear picture of the consequences of failing to do so.

[ChronicLunacy]

Calvin Reed

Cal speared Damien with a look that, if given by a Tremere, would have been sure to set the Blue Blood on fire. There was always several of his type at these gatherings, Cal thought. They would backbite and politic, trying to show up their lessers and at the same time they'd take any opportunity to lick the puckered brown-eyes of those in power. Normally, Cal would have stomped a mudhole in his ass right there in the lobby, but with the Prince being uncharacteristically generous all of a sudden and the hotel being Elysium, he didn't have that option. So instead, Cal not so subtly gave the Ventrue a one finger salute while clapping his other hand to the inside of his elbow -- a two-in-one rude gesture.

[Strawberries]

Amy didn't reply to either Damien's statement, Adam's disgusted look or Elizabeth's uncomfortable comment. She just chuckled, a raucous and somewhat unpleasant sound. Now she is observing with a certain interest the interaction between the Ventrue and an unknown-clan vampire that saw fit to start a little scene right in the middle of the room. Spike wannabe. had been her first thought when she saw how he was dressed. She doesn't have the time to think any further than that, because at that moment the Prince chooses to address the group...and she is not stupid enough to not answer. Expecially not with the six bodyguards staring as well.

"Amy Everett, madam." She doesn't add 'of the Nosferatu' this time: it should be pretty obvious by itself. There is, however, anorher info the Prince is probably interested in. "Childe of Michael Lewis. It is a pleasure to meet you." She resists the temptation to turn around to see where her sire is. It really wouldn't do to appear like a five-years-old looking for her mum.

[daelrog]

"Forgive my enthusiasm, Prince. I am Damien Smith of Clan Ventrue, childe of Josef van Kirsch." He gave a deferentially, but shallow, bow.

He was not paying attention to Cal, and did not see the threatening stare. Damien's focus was with the Prince and her own coterie.

[Dandria]

Jackson Kelsen

As if summoned by that adorable, pink lady's words, the hipster malkavian appears out of nowhere and sketches a bow.

Jackson Kelsen, my fair lady: youngest son of the Kelsen Family and childe of Aleksej Sergeevič Vernadsky, Lord Chancellor of all of Wonderland. I. . . I'm afraid I have no idea of what that means.

He reluctantly admits, shifting his weight from foot to foot and generally looking uncomfortable.

My Sire told me you would have understood, but I think he was just making it up on the spot. By the way, he also says he's sorry he couldn't make it, but he wants to drive our tenants crazy before the end of the week and he's already behind schedule. Maybe next time, he says, but until them I must attend in his stead. He hopes it's not a problem and also told me to tell you that, and I'm quoting here, your friend's plot looks like the most fanciful thing since sliced bread. Here I agree: that's a pretty cool scheme, I must say. Lovely dress, by the way. Are we going to get started?

If there's one thing Jackson loves about being a vampire, it's the fact that he doesn't need to breathe anymore.

[Ayailla]

Elizabeth acknowledged Damien's smart alec remark with a raised brow, her gaze caught momentarily between him and Cal in their feud. Childish and disrespectful she smacked her lips softly and clasped each of her gloved hands in front of her waist, bringing her full attention to the Prince and her entourage.

"Elizabeth, Elizabeth Carlton, of the clan of the rose. It is a pleasure to finally meet you Prince Jefferson."

She nods and offers a light curtsy. Her ocean blue eyes scanned the Prince and her entourage looking for anything that might catch her interest while she offered each of them what could be considered a warm smile had she had any warmth to contribute to it.

[appending_doom]

Daria nods to each of the Kindred in turn as they speak. Her gaze appears to linger on Damien for a moment; there is no noticeable change to her expression, but her interest is telling. She makes no comment on those who name their sires, although a hint of a smile seems to appear at the mention of the Chancellor of Wonderland.

She makes no comment about Calvin completely ignoring her, although when she speaks, she fixes her gaze on him.

"Come. I believe you should join me in the meeting hall. You will find the discussions there...edifying."

[ChronicLunacy]

Calvin Reed

A million swear words went through his mind when suddenly Cal was included in the little group of brown-nosers the Prince was conversing with. After letting Damien know, in no uncertain terms, what he'd thought of him via sign language, he'd been content to mind his own business. Now it seemed the Ventrue's calling him out had made him a person of interest to Jefferson and he was in for some politics. He tried to appear nonplussed when she glared at him, but there was only so much one could hide from a Camarilla elder. He growled under his breath and followed several paces behind the group.

[Strawberries]

Who, me? Why me? Amy can't find a comment that is more helpful than that thought, so she wisely chooses to keep her mouth shut What the hell could a Prince possibly want with me?

Well, it seems she is going to find out soon enough. She turns briefly to look at the vampire dressed as a punk, and her mouth curves up slightly, in a hint of a smirk. He was playing the tough guy, but at the fist stare, he fell in line like the rest of us. Well well. She had been told that the elders had power, but it was another thing to witness its effects first hand. She turns back again and follows the Prince, together with the others.

[Ayailla]

Elizabeth simply nodded her submission and followed the Prince along with the rest of the group. She walked a bit behind the coterie trying to stay focused on simply walking and not being distracted as it was so commonplace for her to do so.

[Dandria]

Jackson Kelsen

Well, that went fairly well.

He says out loud, sighing with relief and stretching his arms over his head. Soon enough the noisy pack starts moving and, while everyone else follows the pink lady, Jackson stands and waits for Calvin.

Quite the show, I'm impressed. You were doing great, but our beloved prince turns out to be a seasoned diplomat. But never mind, it will go better next time, I'm sure of it. I'm Jackson, by the way.

[daelrog]

Damien wordlessly agreed, and followed. He knew better than to take the moment as a victory. It wasn't. It was merely a decent introduction. He took a step so he could walk next to Amy. Of the kindred there, she seemed to be the most capable, at least the most willing to listen, at least to Damien's limited knowledge of the others.

"What I did was tell the Prince and the other elders was that I was willing to take the initiative that I want to take the initiative and do their dirty work to get ahead in this city. All I lost in return was the enmity of that angry little man. Would've happened eventually anyways." He turned and smiled at Amy. "It really is a terrible game we're forced to play, isn't it?"

[appending_doom]

The assembled vampires gather into the main hall, spreading out in a complex dance of alliances, feuds, and status that somehow guides (or perhaps herds) the small group towards the front of the room.

A wiry Gangrel, with the bearing of someone very important, stands center stage, with Prince Jefferson standing behind him. Her coterie has scattered throughout the room.

[daelrog]

Damien scans the room, at first trying to get a gauge of who is around, and to figure out what he can about the different cliques and feuds. However, his attention turns to his hunger, and he looks around to see if there is any respite, if they have served any drinks here.

Of course, simply having blood is only half the battle for him. He needs a certain kind of blood, his kind of blood. He now understood it when his sire claimed that in many ways even the Malkavians were better off with madness than the Ventrue with their curse.

[Strawberries]

I didn't see anyone putting a gun to your temple and forcing you to play, mister Brown Noser is the thought that passes through Amy's head when Damien speaks. But of course she doesn't put it in words. Instead, she follows his gaze around the room, taking in the rest of the people there, inclining her head in acknowledgment towards everyone who meets her gaze. She doesn't know where the other kindred in the room stand with her, her sire or her clan, and she doesn't want to start making bad first impressions.

Perception+etiquette (me too!) [roll0]

[appending_doom]

@dael

Most importantly, is the realization that the vampire on stage with Jefferson must be a Justicar - the only ones with the authority to call a conclave, and the one most likely to speak first. They are among the most politically powerful vampires in the world.

You can see that the group at the rear is likely Anarchs or Independents; a clique of bookish types suggests the Tremere conclave of the Library of Congress has made an appearance. There are only a few obviously hideous members of Clan Gangrel or Nosferatu.


@straw

No luck, sorry.

[ChronicLunacy]

Calvin Reed


Quite the show, I'm impressed. You were doing great, but our beloved prince turns out to be a seasoned diplomat. But never mind, it will go better next time, I'm sure of it. I'm Jackson, by the way.

"Only an idiot goes up against the Prince on her home turf, Jack." Cal replied. "That prick, though...he's got to watch his mouth or he's going to have a very bad night. Not all the rabble are as calm and even-tempered as I am." he smirked. "Call me Cal."

[daelrog]

Damien takes a seat as closer to the front, but leaving plenty of rows for elders and ancillae. Most importantly, he tries to take a seat that is directly in front of the figure standing with the Prince, so that if the prominent kindred speaks directly forward, Damien will be in that path.

Whether the others followed him or not isn't his priority. His priority is to find an opportunity, any opportuniy to get ahead of where he is, even more than finding blood. With a decent first impression with the Prince, and knowing who it was standing with her, he doubted he would have another opportunity like this for decades, and he was not so old to have learned patience on such a scale.

He sat anxiously, waiting for what the Conclave was about.

[Ayailla]

Elizabeth walked into the room. Looking over each and every kindred in the room with a discerning eye. She had hoped to see her sire at the very least and perhaps some other interest people or things along the way. She took Damien's cue and sat down, next to him, she wasn't one to make a scene or draw any unnecessary attention to herself. So she sat and placed her purse in her lap, crossing her gloved hands over them. She glanced up at the stage and the important figures eager to hear their message, then back at Damien noting his similar angst.

"What do you presume this is all for Mr. Smith?"

She leaned over slightly and asked in barely a whisper.

[Dandria]

Jackson Kelsen

Cal, eh? Sounds like a nice name. Aloisius would be better, obviously, but Cal is still a close second. Anyway, we should probably get going: I'm supposed to take note of everything that happens and a failure would mean death. You know: insane, soul-eating Sire and all that stuff. Shall we take a seat?

Walking into the room, Jackson puts up a smile and looks around without really paying attention. He nods in the Prince's general direction, weights the few alternatives and finally heads toward one of the furthest rows from the stage.

Ah, would you look at that!

He says, pointing at the Gangrel.

I spy with my little eye, something beginning with. . . well, that's tough: he keeps changing it. Never mind then.

[daelrog]

Damien didn't move, save for his lips, keeping his eyes straight ahead. "The kindred up there next to the Prince is a Justicar, one of the most powerful kindred in the world. No doubt it's the Justicar who called this Conclave.

"I am going to take part in whatever this is about. Since my sire and I had a falling out, I've been faced with the prospect of an eternity of being an errand boy. This is an opportunity to be something. There are things that need to be fixed and ain't none of these Elders going to do it themselves."

[Ayailla]

"Oh, really? A Justicar here?"

She looked at the stage pegging her glance on what she though was the justicar, then she turned her eyes back to Damien.

"You seem to be in a hurry to prove yourself. What happened with your sire if you don't mind me asking?"

[SmileyOgre]

Standing out of the main circle, amused with the kindred that seemed preoccupied and over his shock of the Nosferatu that joined them, the Toreador slouched in a seat near the back, making note to talk to that...Ravishing fellow Degenerate when he got a chance. She seemed quite content talking to that Damian fellow for the time being, though, and he'd hate to be rude... Well, for the time being at least. Kicking his legs up onto the empty seat in front of him, Adam allowed himself to get comfortable as he waited for the big show to begin.

[daelrog]

Damien looked thoughtful for a moment. "No, I don't mind. However, this is not the time and place, and I am afraid we do not know each other." Damien's confident facade was replaced by something else entirely, a more reserved individual. "Without power you cannot accomplish anything, and I intend to leave my mark, for my own reasons."

[Strawberries]

Amy looks around the room for another moment, then selects a seat in the proximity of Damien and Elizabeth, far enough that she wouldn't be seen as butting in in the conversation, and near enough to listen to what they are saying. She arches an eyebrow when Damien mentions the Justicar. Mike had talked about Justicars Bigwig among bigwigs. That should be interesting.. She can't help but be a little amused by Damien's obvious eagerness to amount to something Hell, man, you've got eternity ahead of you. Relax, already.. She smirks a little to herself, and settles down in her seat, looking with interest at the important kindreds on the stage.

[Ayailla]

"In my experience rushing into anything can only at best leave behind a nasty trail and at worst, well..."

Elizabeth paused and left the thought lingering for his imagination to fill. She knew all too well what a rushed job looked like. And a rush for power, that trail tends to be littered with corpses. Elizabeth couldn't help but wonder just who he was willing to step on, to get where he wanted.

"There is hardly ever a proper time or a proper place for anything. The world we inhabit is dangerous and cruel, no doubt you are aware of that. I fear most what lies in the shadows, the things we cannot see."

For a moment Elizabeth glanced at the Nosferatu, noting her presence with a small smile. He might have assumed that he was admitting a weakness but in truth it was one of her greatest talents.

"We all have our motives Mr. Smith. But most time it serves you better to see all the cards, to know all the angles and all of the risks before you rush in head first."

She thought immediately of the bull rushing towards the matador and his thick red cloth, with no regard or concern for what lay on the other side.

"Still, Mr. Smith. You have my number should you wish to get to know me. I am an excellent planner."

Elizabeth winked and flashed him her ever charming smile.

[daelrog]

Damien smiled back, though a bit more reserved than earlier. "Yes, I think I will take you up on your offer. As to rushing into things... I couldn't agree more. Whatever task the Prince or Justicar give me, I plan to handle with care. The only trick is to make sure that indeed I'm given a task." He looked back to the stage, frowning a bit. "I hate to be one of your shadows, someone you don't know and can't trust." He was playing his empathy card at her. He wasn't exactly trying to hide it, but it didn't come across as fake either.

"My sire is a monster, and he wanted me to be the same. I refused and now he wants to correct his 'mistake' by personally witnessing my final death. He's traditional though, and will do it the proper way, through indirect means. Those means made getting hear more trouble than you'd think, and it cost me a lot of blood too." Damien removed his frown with a more thoughtful expression.

[appending_doom]

After several minutes, Jefferson clears her throat, and the Justicar raises his hands, bringing most of the room to silence. He glances to Jefferson, and then nods.

"Greetings. I hope you are all well. In fact, it is this fact that brings us to the subject of this Conclave. I will now turn over the proceedings to the esteemed Daria Jefferson, who urged us to call this gathering to illustrate circumstances that are a grave concern to us all. Daria?"

The Prince steps forward, a polite smile on her face, one that does not even reveal her fangs. "Hello. For those of you native to this city, I am grateful for the opportunity to meet you. For those of you new or visiting, welcome. I hope you will flourish here, and that you will mind the...necessarily copious rules that hold sway here. But this does bring us to a point of particular interest, and that is...the vampires in Washington.

"I know you all recall the unpleasantness when our people believed the end of the world was coming, and the relief when it became clear we were not to be subject to judgment, either by our ancestors, or God, or whatever force that might have arisen. It is my feeling that this relief has given way to a dangerous sort of complacency, one that I feel now threatens our very existence.

"I believe, that in several small but vital ways, the Masquerade has been broken, and humanity, our prey, is hunting us."

[Strawberries]

Amy stares, and tries very hard to keep from sniggering. She manages...barely. Really? That's what the big meeting was about? she thinks. She had dismissed the first part of the Prince's speech, mainly because she had no idea what she was talking about I guess I wasn't here for the party, whatever it was. But the Masquerade broken? Hell,ma'am, have you been in a cinema lately? OR bought one of that thrashy romance books about vampires? Amy had, just a couple of weeks after her Embrace. She had never been very interested in vampires mythology when she was alive, but she felt she had to at least make an effort to keep adjourned on the latest popular tales now. I'd say we can pretty much rest easy about that.

Still, thinking past her first gut reaction, if the Prince was making such a big fuss about it, there probably had to be some good reason, didn't it? She shifts in her seat, a bit uneasy, and addresses a dubious look to the others.

[daelrog]

Damien's expression hardened a bit. he did not know what to make of humans actually hunting them, his sire had mentioned there were such groups in passing only. What he was concerned about was the implications of kindred breaking the masquerade. He fully expected that the Prince would be calling a Blood Hunt on the guilty kindred or kindreds.

[appending_doom]

Jefferson allows a wave of comment to wash through the room, a grim smile gracing her lips. "I do not speak of the works of Mrs. Meyer, or the resurgence of Kine's interest in their fictional pictures of our kind. I do not speak of some great event that has plunged our people into the public eye. I do not even know if one of our kind truly violated the Masquerade, or if it has been stolen from us. What is clear is that vampires within my domain have begun vanishing, removed from Kindred society. My own investigations have revealed patterns that tell of an enemy, a conspiracy to identify and destroy our kind."

[Dandria]

Jackson

Oh, well, isn't that a bummer? I would have really liked to sparkle when I first discovered I had become a vampire.

The young lunatic says, raising his head from the rubik's cube and taking off his massive sunglasses.

I mean: I even brought this stupid things before learning that I could not actually go outside on cloudy days. They still look good, okay, but come on, what a rip-off! The only positive part is that, compared to one of those movies, our unlives involve a lot less sucking, if you know what I mean.

Then he shrugs his shoulders and sighs, going back to his diamond encrusted pastime.

Broken Masquerade? His thoughts keep going, while he twists a corner and smiles. Meh, the old man probably doesn't care: subtlety isn't exactly his thing, after all.

[Strawberries]

The woman reads minds. Actually, now that she thinks about it, that may not exactly be an hyperbole. Amy is still a little fuzzy on what ancient vampires can actually do. She fidgets a bit, unconfortable, but can't help smirking briefly at the words of the young kindred that was playing with the cube before "So, uhm...right. What are we supposed to do? Look for Van Helsing wannabes?" she says under her breath, addressing noone in particular "'Cause guys in leather dusters go a dime a dozen, in certain circles.

[SmileyOgre]

Adam listened to the whole event, barely resisting the urge to make a Twilight or True Blood joke. The idea of hunters? Yes, very real, very real indeed. They were probably out there with crossbows, wearing sunglasses at night, carrying around scythes because they're so damn cool... But one of them might be lucky as hell and smoke an unsuspecting neonate. Probably a Blue Blood, since they loved being the cocky bastards in the room.

"The Nosferatu brings up a point," Adam said, making an effort not to politely look over at the undead young woman.

[Ayailla]

Elizabeth listened with a bold and brazen face. Hunters eh? Her expression hadn't changed. If there was anything the girl was good at it was investigating. She knew she had to help but she wasn't the type to throw herself to the wolves. She'd bide her time and find out what she could in confidence.

"Has there been any sort of pattern? Any area's with more reported disappearances than others?"

[appending_doom]

"A pattern? Certainly. The deaths are highest within my own city, in places of Elysium. Museums and federal buildings are not familiar haunts to our people, but, save for the Tremere's bastion, those that venture there have seen an irregular, but certain doom."

[Strawberries]

Right. Amy looks around herself, waiting for someone else to ask the obvious question. Noone does, of all the kindreds gathered there. She clears her throat and speaks up "So, uhm...ma'am. I don't want to speak out of place, but...are those hunters humans? And if they are, aren't we kind of...uhm...equipped to deal with them?"

[daelrog]

"The masquerade." Damien took the initiative to answer Amy's question. "That is our defense against such things. It is what keeps the few hunters out there outcasts, without significant resources or support. It is what keeps them small in number. It's what keeps the Inquisition at bay. It's what allows us to focus our time and effort against the Sabbat. The masquerade is what makes us control the most valuable weapon of the modern era; the control of information. We know who they are, but they don't know who we are. That is how we maintain our dominance." He paused and turned to face the Justicar. "This city no longer has its most potent tool. In fact, it is being used against us. We're being asked to win it back."

[appending_doom]

An almost shocked expression passes over Jefferson's face, before it shifts to a thin smile, and she nods at Damien.

"This childe speaks truly. We are not threatened by loners who appear mad, fighting a foe none believe in. We are threatened by some conspiracy that has gained the ear of the government. Likely they have presented us as a threat much like the terrorist bogeyman, but I cannot know for certain. What we do not know is what most threatens us."

"And what would you have us do? Cower? Let you restrict our movements so you can hunt this mysterious threat?" An Anarch or something similar in the back of the hall shouts out, interrupting Jefferson's monologue. "Or hunt down supposed traitors? I haven't heard a solution that isn't worse than the disease, yet."

[Strawberries]

Amy shakes her head, once. "Nonsense. There are ways. I bet there are a lot of ways." she mutters, not exactly under her breath. Surely some of the several-hundred years old kindred around her must have come up with half-a thousand possibilities to avoid the scenario the Anarch is outlining. At the very last. Hell, she can think of at least one course of action that wouldn't involve...what, the equivalent of kindred martial law? She chuckles to herself at the thought. Vampire martial law. One thing Hollywood hasn't made a movie about. Yet.

[Ayailla]

Elizabeth inclined her head to each who chose to speak. Her gloved hand rubbed her forehead as she considered what she could offer to help bring some resolution to this issue.

"Have there been any efforts made on the part of the kindred of this city? Any coteries? Or am I to presume that is something we are to begin coordinating on this night?"