Turton - Play the Old Money Blues (Cecile's IC)

[Worlok]

The servant was nervous, if likely more out of instinct and stress than out of experience - His face was unfamiliar to Cecile, at any rate, and the fact that he did not have that look of haunted and long-lasting terror his older colleagues would fail to hide seemed to indicate that he had only recently been hired, or weathered acting training worth every cent sunken into it. In any case, his mission was ultimately of some import, and his voice had the relevant urgency in its tone: "So, as I was saying, Miss Cecile, Master Hurst requested that you join him in his office. He made it abundantly clear that that is to happen now, and that you are to come with me, if you would." he repeated, having previously been distracted by the rapidly darkening bump on his forehead, no doubt caused by a letterweight flung for emphasis.

Standing in the doorway, he indicated the hall with one arm and stepped aside, so as to allow the young Miss Hurst to pass him, and in the process revealing a portrait of Gerald Hurst himself, mounted opposite from the door and showing the older vampire in the blue uniform of a soldier of the Union, archaic rifle by his side and moustache freshly waxed. What was immediately apparent was that it was an old painting. What was less obvious was that it was, in fact, a contemporary of the depicted uniform, and where most people would have been quick to dismiss Mr Hurst's mannerisms and attitudes as being merely old-fashioned, the ones that worked on his private grounds generally suspected there being something more to them, but kept their mouths shut and stayed out of sight as much as they possibly could.

[Dramiscius]

Cecile looked up at the newcomer as he held the door, letting out a wry smile as she skipped along into Gerald's office

Who's the new suit papa? Oh, and what matters need my attending? It's been a bit boring around the grounds lately and I think a bit of fresh meat would be just the ticket.

[Worlok]

In as far as ever one of the undead had been able to, Gerald Hurst looked tired. The areas around his eyes seemed to have darkened notably, and his moustache seemed to have blurred somehow, gotten out of shape, doubtless from frustrated yanking on its tails - a gesture the man was prone to when somehow stressed. As he sat there in his luxurious armchair, wearing little more than a plain white shirt and a perfectly unnecessary set of glasses, he also seemed smaller than usual, the pallor on his features all the more apparent for the natural one which most Kindred had, but especially when compared to the Gerald Hurst on the paintings and ancient photographs lining the walls.

"Suit? Oh, oh child, his name's Preston. I think." A quizzical look at the servant earned a confirmative nod, and a throwaway gesture made Preston politely bow, leave the room, and close the door behind him, leaving the Hurst family alone. "But that's not what I called you here for. Rather..." He seemed to lose track, taking a moment to compose himself and briefly fuss about with a small brass figurine on his heavy mahogani desk. "The thing is, we're expecting visitors. And it's not so much that there is something that I would have you attend..." Here, his more complicated everyday mannerisms shone through, and reassuringly so, as the more casual his vocabulary became, the more immediately impending was one of his infamous breakdowns. "...as I would ask of you to not be in attendance. This is important, very important indeed."

It seemed to somehow put a strain on him to utter these last few words, and he even forewent the usual wellspring of terms of endearment his daughter would typically have had to 'enjoy'. A crazed glint and belabored expression seemed to try and sneak itself into his eyes, yet he frantically blinked it away, reaching into a drawer and producing a pencil from there, the small wooden stump in his hand apparently reassuring him. Something seemed worrisomely off, even to someone as challenged in terms of compassion as Cecile was. This was a far cry from the almost terrifying respectability and resolve with which the old man would typically carry himself. It was quite obvious that Gerald Hurst was terrified, beyond the sane, and beyond the Malkavian average, something was troubling his mind, and immensely so. "Sit down." he muttered, using his pencil to indicate a small chair that stood to the side, then starting to try and balance it on a fingertip as he looked at her.

[Dramiscius]

Looking at Gerald with one eyebrow raised with a quizzical expression

Guests you say? I can't remember last when even the most prestigious of visitors seemed to put you in such a state. Father do pray tell, what's going on, it's not good to keep secrets from your daughter, business relies on trust after all.

Perhaps I should stick around to observe these future "guests" that seem to be causing you no small amount of... anxiety.

[Worlok]

"NO!" her sire and father blurted out, a sudden anger taking hold of him and bristling both his moustache and his eternally-locked-in-a-thinning-state hair, only to leave again, and leave him a little calmer, a little less driven as far as appearance was concerned: "No, child, please, this is of no concern to you." Having pushed himself up before, he now lowered himself back into his chair. Applying his right hand's thumb and index finger to the base of his nose and massaging it out of habit, he eventually resolved to ask a question: "Have I ever spoken the name of one Eduard Leibovitz in front of you?" In asking this, he almost unconsciously pointed at a massive golden frame mounted above the entrance door - an unusual piece of craftsmanship, in that it was essentially but an expensively-framed window over a plain red surface, and hardly a picture or work of art at all. Its exact relevance or origins, he had never once revealed, and yet, in quiet moments, he could often be observed observing it, absentmindedly stroking his facial hair to perfection and rambling determinedly to himself.

[Dramiscius]

Following Geralds gaze Cecile finds the seemingly blank frame a bit odd, as she looks to it, then back to Gerald.

While im sure I've probably heard you mention it before father, I can't recall what it was concerning. And judging by the picture... or lack thereof, might I wager a guess he's an individual of great import? Is he threatening you father? Perhaps.... I can find a better solution to the situation, after all going out for a midnight stroll just seems so droll.

[Worlok]

Having apparently gauged that the picture was where his daughter's gaze was drawn by his gesturing, Gerald nodded, before saying: "Yes. You could say that. That he's... That he's of great import, I mean. Not the other thing." He shuddered, something about the suggestion having apparently frightened him. "He's... That frame. You are looking at something he made. He's... He's an artist, of sorts. An important one. And I owe him. He isn't threatening me." The man seemed to be struggling for words, lost for them even: "But... You understand, he is a threat." Something conspiratory snuck into his tone as he leaned over, transfixing his daughter with an icy, haunted stare: "One of great import, even. Nothing there that you could do, or I. I am only telling you this because I don't mind you finding out about him." A glance to the side, then the other, and then, in what amounted to a whisper and but little more: "The truth of the matter is, I don't want him to find out about you."

At this, a sort of gleaming seemed to spark up behind Cecile, dousing her sire's face into reddish light for the fraction of a second as his eyes went wide: "Before it is time for that, anyway." he added, stutteringly, and the gleaming, fast as it had arisen, died again, no trace of what caused it left to be found.

[Dramiscius]

Glancing around suspiciously Cecile nods to Gerald before turning to leave, the frill at the bottom of her light blue dress brushing the door as she makes haste to exit the premises, turning slightly as if to say something to Gerald before leaving.

Do you need me to pickup or attend to anything while I'm out?

[Worlok]

"Well... When you ask like that..." Suddenly, Gerald seemed to be much calmer already, and had he still been able to sweat, he would now have stopped, something vaguely resembling a smile gracing his features: "Not as such. You're free to do as you please. Make sure you're home before sunrise, and use the rear entrance if possible." Yes, much calmer, yet no less besides himself. "Or even if not. Try to not be seen. I understand there have been some troubles in town. Violence. Some of us drained dry, some of the kine. Take care." And, taking on airs of his usual, respect-demanding self, he assumed the kind of posture which he would assume when he considered a conversation to be over. The strange red glow moved across his face again as Cecile turned back, however, and died as suddenly as before, prompting him to add: "... more care than usual." There seemed to be something more he wanted to say, something about his voice betraying unpronounced sentiments, yet apparently nothing he could bring himself to say right now.

[Dramiscius]

Cecile nods back in acknowledgement

I'll have one of the cars drive me into town.

she says, as she turns back and continues briskly towards the houses rear exit

[Worlok]

"You do that. The Cadillac's being repaired right now, but the Mercedes should be alright." As Cecile continued down the lavishly-carpeted hallways, the notable absence of anyone became apparent: While Preston had likely retired to somewhere he could be called upon just in case, neither the maids, nor the other staff - both of which had been remarkably busy all over the place until just yesterday morning - seemed to be around, and she didn't run into anyone until approaching the rear entrance. Outside, there was not a sound to be heard, and the way to the garage was only a short one from here. The locked door still barred her way outside, and just within arm's reach over her head, conveniently located to the left of it, was the key.

[Dramiscius]

Looking around puzzled, Cecile takes the key examining the surroundings for signs of activity, thinking to herself...

"Wheres the driver? I don't know how to drive, and even if I could a child driving around might raise a few eyebrows.. and the last thing I need is the police hassling me."

Hello driver? Anyone?

[Worlok]

As she called out and put the key into the lock, she found herself being answered from beyond the door by a voice she had certainly never heard before, a slick, yet somehow sweet one, having a ring and a rhythm to it that most would fail to find in their own - had it not been a male one, it might have rivaled hers: "Sadly, no. Mr Osbourne tragically had to excuse himself, an emergency, or so I understand." The name 'Osbourne' did ring a bell, their replacement driver for when the normal one wasn't available. However, she had not been informed of either one's absence so far. "He thus left but mere minutes ago, and he's terribly sorry about it all, seeing how he had to trouble me to relay the news for you. But if you could kindly let me in, I would certainly appreciate it, young Miss, for I have been invited here for tonight." Being too small for peephole-usage and having no chair or crate nearby sure was a wonderful combination at times.

[Dramiscius]

Something about this didn't feel right to Cecile, if this was the stranger Geralds was so anxious about then she'd better keep from being seen, and probably try to mislead the gentlemen before going back inside.

Well then who're you mister? I was told not to let strangers inside. My parents were inside talkin about boring stuff with Mr. Hurst, and he told me to go "scamper off while the grownups talked", but this place is sooooooo boring!

[Worlok]

A short silence followed, for whatever reason - Surprise? Confusion? - but the (for now effectively) faceless speaker regained his bearings soon enough, and following a low murmur that one might have taken for a remark the stranger gave under his breath, he answered thus: "Why, yes, of course, young lady, and I should like to ask you to forgive my manners, if you would. The very name, as a matter of fact, is Leibowitz. Eduard Leibowitz. Esquire. And despite me most certainly not being what would amount to a stranger upon these grounds, it would appear you have me at a disadvantage, there." For all his elaborate mannerisms, the man spoke remarkably slowly - not obnoxiously, or annoyingly, so, but notably: "Yet to implore for your name without having laid eyes on you would most grossly harm any sense of decor, do you not agree? All the more since we have now established that it is perfectly within your rights to allow me passage, if you but were so kind?"

[Dramiscius]

Eying the gate closed gate, Cecile responds without skipping a beat, continuing with the same fake innocent sounding voice she'd begun with

Sure thing Mr, let me just find something to reach the door with and we'll get you in.

Having no intention of letting Leibowitz see her, Cecile instead opts to stealthily re-enter the house and inform Gerald of the situation with Leibowitz and the missing drivers.

One sec, I think I've got something here that'll work.

As she attempts to quietly sneaks off

[Worlok]

"Why certainly, young lady. But I must say, I am surprised at how poorly dear Gerald receives his guests these days." Leibowitz did not sound offended, in fact, he seemed greatly amused about something there, but if he said much of anything more, Cecile would likely have missed it, seeing how the distance between Mr Hurst's office and the backdoor was great enough for his voice to trail off along the corridors after a certain point. If he had made an attempt to detect her stealthy escape, it had apparently failed. Not that rare an occasion, really.

What was remarkable, though, was that Gerald's office door was closed. And not only that, but the door was locked, and uncomfortably warm to the touch. Off in the distance, steps could be heard, rapidly moving away from her position - the distinctive marching steps of Gerald Hurst in a hurry. Apparently, her sire was on his way to the front entrance.

Another door, one she did not remember having paid much attention to before, had been left open further down the hallway, and she would pass it if she were to follow the man.

[Dramiscius]

Looking up from the locked door, Cecile raises an eyebrow to what sounded like Gerald marching towards the front. Not enjoying the feeling of what seemed to be a trap, she decides to carefully follow in the direction of the footsteps, making sure to be as stealthy as possible. Thinking that she wants to get to the bottom of what's going on, spying on (in a stealthy fashion) Gerald or whoever's running off away from the house would seem to Cecile as the current best course of action.

[Worlok]

While passing the door that had been opened while she had been out back, Cecile could hear some strange clamor, the sound of pots and pans beating against one another maybe, or some cans falling over, but the room she passed was dark, and other than maybe a servant, there was noone here who'd have business there.

Gerald was well on his way to the front-door, and Cecile too, but as she was just about to round the corner, she heard a harsh voice curse - or at least utter something that sounded a lot like a curse, but in an unfamiliar language, from out of the dark in the unlocked room.

[Dramiscius]

Looking back towards the noise, Cecile decides to investigate while continuing back stealthily making her way towards the room. If she can get a glimpse of whoever it is then tracking them down will only be a matter of time, however falling pots alone isn't going to do the trick.

Approaching the door Cecile carefully looks for a window to peer through, and failing that poking an eye around the corner without a peep.

[Worlok]

The room was unlit and stayed unlit as she approached, so whoever was inside did clearly not need any sort of illumination to do whatever it was he did in there. Just as Cecile approached the doorframe, however, a long, emaciated-looking arm reached out of the darkness, tipped by a vaguely claw-like hand and wrapped in a somewhat familiar-looking suit-sleeve. While it would hardly have been surprising for the intruder to try and grab her now, by her reckoning, the man himself did apparently not harbor any such intent, merely locking the doorknob in a visibly vice-like iron grip and pulling the door shut with a resounding bang before she could take too close a look.

In the mean, Gerald had likely stopped - or been stopped - in his tracks, for no more steps could be heard from ahead.

[Dramiscius]

Seeming somewhat startled by the door abruptly closing, Cecile decides to return to her persuit of Gerald. Stealthily hurrying back towards the last direction she'd been hearing the noise from.

[Worlok]

Followed all the way along the hall by the retreating sounds of irregular foreign cursing and metallic clattering, Cecile made good headway for the main entrance, yet without finding Gerald on the path. The only one she did, as such, find, was the servant, Preston, coming out of a room she remembered to be a sort of storage area, applying some band-aid to an obviously fresh wound on his left lower arm and muttering obscenities under his breath, seemingly without noticing her.

She did not remember the house having ever had a doorbell - or rather, one that would be heard by Mr Hurst and family, as the one on the main gate was typically only heard in the security guard's little outpost. Now, however, the clamor of what sounded like an actual set of heavy, brass bells resounded throughout the corridors, and Preston, now about done with his first-aid-efforts, startled, cursed some more, and ran off towards the entrance, from where Gerald's voice - yes, indeed, Gerald's voice - now went to the most unbecoming lengths of calling for him by name.

[Dramiscius]

Raising an eyebrow towards the sound of bells, Cecile quietly follows Preston to further investigate the strange matter.

[Worlok]

Following the servant to the front entrance through winding passage upon twisting corridor, Cecile eventually passed a large two-wing door and stepped into the main hall, one of the more lavish rooms in the manse and easily fit to hold even the most expensive celebrations in. Atop the expansive staircase, next to a rather strange metal statue that vaguely resembled a very large bat and had been there almost as long as she had, stood Gerald, and it did not take him too long to notice her: "Child! What are you doing here? The guest is about to be let in!"

[Dramiscius]

Giving Gerald a glare, Cecile responds quickly

The damned driver was missing... he left a key on the stone, am I to drive myself? And your "guest" Mr. Leibowitz tried to have me let him in through the back gate, I told him my parent's were here on business with you and scurried off following Preston back into the house, looked like he'd been in a small tussle with someone.

Without a moments pause, Cecile looks around for a shadowy area of the room to go and vanish from sight.

[Worlok]

"Wha... really, child? The driver's gone? What about Mr Osbourne, then? And what's that about the backdoor, there?" Gerald seemed confused, and Preston just as well, though in the latter's case, that might have had something to do with him being mentioned there. Hurst again: "And Preston, what's that about that tussle you had?" - "Sir, Mr Hurst, just a scratch. Cut myself on a nail by accident." - "... I see. Still, child, leave before he is let in. He can't hear us here, but he's behind that door right there, this much I know." He was worried, panicked, and his carefully cleaned-up appearance was already threatening to fall to the tics and twitches of his unease again. This was not going as planned, at least for him.

[Dramiscius]

Indeed father, perhaps Preston saw whoever was rustling around in the room by the back as well, the lights were out and they locked the door as I approached.

Ah, well perhaps later, for now i'll make myself scarce.

Cecile says as she looks around for a shadowy area of the room to vanish in.

[Worlok]

As it so happened, both the area immediately beneath the stairs, the one behind the door she had come in through, and the ones shadowed by or beneath the various tables and flowerpots standing about would be ideal as vantage points.

"Yes, you do that, child. Please, understand that I'm not angry. But this is important, yes?" He almost sounded sad, remorseful even, and still very, very in-over-his-head, even as he forced himself to assume an upright position, and commanded Preston to go and answer the door at last.

[Dramiscius]

Seeing Preston make his way towards the door, Cecile steps into the shadow of a nearby flowerpot and activating her basic powers of supernatural stealth to become completely invisible while stationary awaiting their guest.

[Worlok]

The servant approached the door, and Mr Hurst's nervosity reached an all-time high - had he been able to, he'd have broken a sweat, yet for now, he was merely shaking a little, instinctively taking deep breaths despite having no need for that.

The bell did not sound again, but before too long, the door was opened, and the same, alarmingly charming voice she had heard before could be heard quipping: "Ah, I see that there is someone home then, after all. Been held up a little, haven't we?" - "Erm. Yes, sir, my apologies, sir." - "Please, my good man, no need to apologise. Such will happen. I understand Mr Hurst is expecting me?" - "Yes, sir, he is, at that. If you would please... follow me?" - "At once. Yet might I suggest not leading me into the likes of adversity you, no doubt, have had handlings with?" - "Sir?" - "You appear to be bleeding - I thought it only wise to recommend you sparing me a like predicament, Mr... I'm afraid I didn't catch your name?" - "Yes, Sir, of course, sir, very good. Preston Smith, Sir, and my apologies, sir, an accident. There... should be no need to worry about that." - "Oh? Very well, then, Preston, lead the way, we've kept my good friend Gerald waiting for too long."

From her vantage point, Cecile could see Preston, the picture of mortification, leading a tall, outrageously elegant individual into the hall: Tall as a tree, a good six inches on even the relatively stately manservant that is, yet slim as a haystalk, the stranger wore an odd, flowing piece of night-blue attire that seemed to be halfway between a suit and a wizard's robe, and his face was a bit too symmetric, a tad too beautiful to be completely natural - all the more since with the shark-like eyes and complexion contrasting this form, and given the gelled-up black ponytail trailing behind him ironically being the only perfectly human thing about his appearance, he was something to look at indeed. Gazing down Preston's shape from behind, he made little attempt to hide what he really was, and his toothy smile revealed at least two rows of razor-sharp, gleaming, triangular fangs which he had, no doubt, held retracted when speaking to the man.

A smaller figure, wrapped in completely unseasonal winter clothing, and quietly keeping to itself, was following him, about Cecile's size, yet under the hood and given the direction in which it was facing, there was no further intel to be gleaned right now.

Stepping aside to allow the guests passage, Preston excused himself the moment they arrived at the bottom of the stairs, and despite all the trappings of etiquette he, as a servant, would normally have been bound to uphold, he did not even turn around again as he made for the doors he had entered through, visible unease commanding his every step - and just before Gerald began descending the steps to welcome this strange Mr Leibowitz, Cecile could have sworn that both had briefly glanced over to her position, yet neither gave any indication of having noticed her. The smaller figure just kept standing behind Leibowitz, unresponsive other than imitating his movements every so often.

And while what the visitor said was beyond a doubt a greeting, Cecile could not say she had heard the language before - or rather, she had, just before in the mysteriously left-open room, and while it still sounded somewhat rough, it had none of the menacing harshness she'd noted before. This was going to be an interesting evening yet...

[Dramiscius]

Cecile perks up upon recognizing the language, preparing to listen intently and perhaps investigate the language at a later time.

[Worlok]

To her slight surprise, Gerald actually replied in the same foreign tongue, extending a greeting quite similar to the one his guest had used as he walked downstairs, and the conversation carried on a bit, still in that same strange language, as he went. Once they stood immediately before each other, the guest did something rather unexpected, though: Arms reaching out, he closed the gap, pulled Gerald into a tight and, as far as Cecile could tell, almost brotherly embrace, and actually kissed him on the cheek, which left her father utterly at a loss for words at first, and quite profoundly unamused, if judging by the way his moustache bristled once again was any way to tell. He kept his countenance though, and finally answered into the rather embarassing silence the act had brought about: "...Yes. Yes, I'm glad to see you too, Eduard. But forgive me, my Polish has gotten quite rusty over the years. Would you mind if we...?" - "Not at all. It might appear rather unbecoming of me, old friend, but sadly, my plight is quite similar. It has simply been too long since last I spoke to anyone from the day. Why, one has not even heard from the likes of old Chess-Worth in... twenty years? Thirty, now? I even forgot how long it has been!" - 'Chess-Worth'? That couldn't be right. Cecile might have misheard. It was strange, anyway, how they pronounced each other's names: Provided that had been what they had said before, Leibovitz had pronounced Gerald's name something like 'Keh-ralt', and Hurst had in turn pronounced Eduard's 'Eh-duu-hart'.

It was... Kehralt's turn to speak again: "Really? I would have thought he'd reply once that deal in New York had gone over, actually." - "And so would I. Yet he never did, nor did Stan, nor did Waldemar." - "Huh. What about Gaston?" - "Nothing. Now, just the other night, our old friend Henderson calls, and he tells me that they've found shovelheads. Shovelheads, Gerald, and right here in town!" - "Here in Turton? That would appear to be Chess-Worth's handywork, if you ask me, yes." - "Whose else? And that after we had it nice and peaceful here for just so long." - "Say, shovelheads in Turton, and Chess, he was busy around New York..." - "It never ceases to amaze me just how well you keep together hereabouts! But no, Gerald, so far, there's been no trace of either of our less restrained... acquaintances about." - "No untraceable stakings? No sudden, mysterious death toll spikes?" - "Neither the one, nor the other. And no trace of that wretched Frenchman as far as the eye can see." - "Are you actually sure he's still around? Last time I asked around, they kept telling me that the Wolf of New Hampshire had gotten him." - "And last time I asked around, this so-called 'Wolf' had been found staked behind a Chinese Restaurant in Jersey. No, the Frenchman's still around, make no mistake, my friend. And even if one were to doubt it still, who would it be, if not Le Pen? Name one, one other, who'd have the audacity-!" - "Do compose yourself, Eduard. You have no need to fear him on these grounds, nor anywhere in Turton, even if he'd found his way into the neighborhood." - "Provided he sticks to the rules, you mean." - "Which he'd have no reason not to. Remember that this is Barfbag's town, and the moment he'd cross the city borders, they'd send Tyrone. Or the new kid, the one they're testing... Paul?" - "Carl, I think it was. Not that the name even matters next to that hideous nom de guerre." - "It's not like he chose it for himself, you know?" - "Of course I do. But speaking of, you would not happen to have less... oh... spacious rooms in this here residence of yours?" - "Oh. But of course. Come with me. I even found a place for your painting, after all." - "Outstanding, Gerald, I'm outright besides myself with curiosity!" And after the short silence and long bout of unreasonably thunderous laughter that had followed that, the two of them left for the office upstairs, the small figure swiftly and silently following... and leaving Cecile behind, again.

Something about the way they kept mentioning names - and Gerald 'keeping it together hereabouts' - would appear to suggest that the two of them had something of a history of fairly recent travel, yet she could not recall Gerald having ever left for much longer than maybe a few days, and even then he'd typically leave behind notice of his whereabouts. Strange how these things shaped up.

[Dramiscius]

In light of recent events, Cecile's curiosity had been peaked even more, she must continue this eves dropping in an attempt to uncover more about these recent events concerning Gerald and his friend. And who was this Frenchmen she thought to herself, perhaps an assassin? Either way with what little she'd heard was to vague to let lie thinking to herself, and she absolutely must try and learn much more indeed if she's to make heads or tails of this mess.

Waiting for the stranger and his companion to vanish out of sight with Gerald, Cecile removes her shoes placing them in her pack so as to be silent as possible as she sneaks up after their guest trailing far enough behind as to not totally lose track of them in another attempt to find out more of the situation.

[Worlok]

Carefully making her way towards her father's office, Cecile soon found herself at the corner she'd passed earlier, with both the room whose door had been shut at her approach, and the place she suspected her sire and his visitors to be now just around the bend. There was nothing to be heard from where she was.

And as a suggestion, for peaking around the corner etc. - You might want to roll some stealth on that. I'd like Dexterity + Stealth, if you would. :smallsmile:

[Dramiscius]

Cecile creeps up to the corner in an attempt to evesdrop and potentially follow Gerald and his guest, tip toeing carefully in her stocking feet.



Dex + stealth = 7

reposting, jacked it up

[Dramiscius]

[roll0]
[roll1]
[roll2]
[roll3]
[roll4]
[roll5]
[roll6]

[Worlok]

A cursory glance around the corner confirmed all the doors along the corridor shut, with the miniscule figure that had been following Leibowitz guarding the one to Gerald's office, still in perfect silence. Whether or not it - he? she? - had seen her was anyone's guess.

Good rolls there. Might want to roll again for the first two of those tens (the other cancels out against the one) however, as it is resisted by Perception + Alertness:

[roll0] :smallbiggrin:

EDIT: Also, damn. :smalleek:

[Dramiscius]

lol yea forgot, been a while since I've played WoD ;D

rerolling the 3 10's

[roll0]
[roll1]
[roll2]

edit - whoops glazed over the 2, oh well the rolls were horrible anyway :P

[Worlok]

Not that horrible. I'll be gentle and make like you never rolled that "1" you got there, alright? Just mind 'em oversights in the future. :smalltongue:

But with our intrepid guard getting three re-rolls, things are still looking bad. :smalleek:

[roll0]

Okay, he's got six successes, as opposed to your five. Slight success. You can roll Dexterity + Dodge against difficulty six to withdraw just in time for him to just get a sneaking suspicion that someone's watching - But be aware that he might just come looking anyway. Running or whatever you come up with is also a possibility, of course.

[Dramiscius]

Well no sure what the DC was but id assume the 7 would beat out the 6 anyway, so Cecile has 5 vs someone's 6, oh drat the little scamps been noticed!... but by how much ?

[Worlok]

My previous post has been updated. I'll do that sometimes, especially when around rolls, just so you know and can check for suggestions and such in time. At any rate, in such cases, meaning opposed rolls, the difficulty is typically equal to your opponent's dice pool size. Already well-accounted for, as you can see. :smallwink:

[Dramiscius]

Cecile noticing something strange, as if she made to much noise, she quickly glances around for a place to hide, and failing that to exit stage left.




Roll for exit if no hiding spots are present

[roll0]
[roll1]
[roll2]

[Worlok]

You get 'em ones in the crappiest places, man. :smallfrown:
With a certain ease she'd likely have found surprising in herself under other circumstances, Cecile withdrew her head just before the stranger noticed her - or such was the case as far as she was aware, at any rate.

While a little further down the corridor, there was another door she could likely retreat through, that would most likely make noise. And she suddenly felt very uncomfortable in her undead hide: No sound could be heard from around the corner, other than a mumbled word in that language - Polish, far as she knew without understanding it - that seemed to hint at a certain puzzlement on the speaker's part. But then, with the carpet everywhere, it was relatively easy for even an unskilled individual to avoid making noises while sneaking up on someone, and if that little thing had any sort of practice at security, it would be the likeliest cause of action for it to come after her... and in any case, she would not get any closer to that cursed door at this rate.

Maybe another strategy was needed. Or maybe a tactical retreat could count as strategy. In either case, remaining right here would likely solve nothing.

[Dramiscius]

Giving a quick thought about the situation, it dawns on Cecile that she doesn't speak polish, so proceeding to pry may not warrant much more then more gibberish she wouldn't understand anyway.

With this in mind, she gathers herself and decides to go investigate the room some unknown persons was rummaging through downstairs earlier, perhaps she'll be able to uncover a clue as to what they were looking for.

[Worlok]

Several of the rooms in the house were interconnected over a webway of ventilation shafts and the occasional secret door. While Cecile had knowledge of all of them - to the best of her information, at any rate - she could afford to be pretty certain that only a choice few others were in the know.

If she recalled correctly, the room the stranger had been about inside was, in fact, connected to one further downstairs, and it would likely be her best bet to start from there. And so she did.

On her way, she occasionally got the impression of being watched, yet nothing was to be seen, other than paintings on the walls, and the occasional ugly metal statue the likes of which Gerald collected for reasons most likely not even known to him.

But the room, itself, was empty, and little was to be heard other than the typical noises of a big, old house, and as she stepped in the room, there was no trace of foreign tampering - Just the same old shelves, crates, unused chairs, and furniture pieces under wraps. Even complete with dust.

[Dramiscius]

Cecile looked puzzled at the state of the room, she knew someone had been here and yet it seemed unscathed. This smelled fishy to her, so a more thorough investigation seemed warranted, especially since their guest was preoccupied upstairs.



Not sure if the roll is Int + investigation or perception + investigation.

[Worlok]

Well, actually I'd be happy with both. Perception + Investigation would be things that can be found at second glance, Intelligence + Investigation would be a thorough search. The former takes a few seconds in-game, the latter about five minutes, like. Up to you how much effort Cecile puts into it, and thus ultimately your choice which one to roll - or whether to even roll both. I like rolls, so I don't mind. :smallbiggrin:

[Dramiscius]

Ah well then, I suppose at first she'd do a thorough investigation with int+invest then follow up by double checking it with a secondary once over with per/invest to look for anything that might of gotten past her.

Int + invest = 7 die

[roll0]
[roll1]
[roll2]
[roll3]
[roll4]
[roll5]
[roll6]

And for the second set with once over's

Per+ invest = 6

[roll7]
[roll8]
[roll9]
[roll10]
[roll11]
[roll12]

Will check for and post a follow up to reroll any 10's that might appear after subtracting 1's ;)

[Dramiscius]

It seems my luck with rolls on the RL gaming table has followed me into the pbp gaming table :smallbiggrin:

No rerolls on either, the second one might even be a critical botch if the dc is higher then 6 (leaving it at -1 successes :o )

[Worlok]

Don't worry, all is well, crap happens, but it's not that bad. :smallwink:
Even a close search turned up little out of the ordinary: As the heir to the presidency of Hurst Steam, one had better to do than keep stock of the inventory of storage rooms, however, and so she had little idea of what the ordinary looked like here. The objects in the room had not been moved in a while, the ventilation shaft that connected this room to the one next to Gerald's office looked oddly like it had been polished very recently, but had not been removed, and other than strange little scratchmarks near the floor, there was nothing noteworthy - That last oddity, however, was likely due to some sort of mouse or rat infestation rather than anyone messing about in here. They had had one of those a while back, and it's not like you ever truly get rid of those.

Then again, that was before she took a second glance: While making sure that yes, the various chairs had been standing exactly where they were now for a long, long time, she managed to accidentally push one of them over, and the resulting chain reaction knocked down one of the shelves and tore a good stretch of wallpaper loose, causing a dustcloud to swallow most of the room right up for a few seconds straight. Luckily, she remained unharmed.

And to top it off, the strangeness didn't stop there, no: One would have expected one almighty crash from stuff falling over like that, but not a single sound could be heard in the room, much like Leibowitz' weird companion had not made a sound while moving about. And there was that feeling again. That feeling of being watched.

Had she not closed the door? And what would that shadow there on the ground right next to hers turn out to be if she turned around?

[Dramiscius]

As Cecile eye'd the mess she'd made with a raised eyebrow concerning the lack of an audible presence, she turned to observe the strange shadow she'd noticed behind her.

Not having a light source on hand, she decided to just take a forward approach, kicking at it with her small feet the way a child might kick another in the shin.

Who're you! What are you doing here!

She said in a stern but level voice

[Worlok]

Its form sharply outlined by the invading light, Leibowitz' pint-sized companion was leaning in the doorframe, watching her intently through the gasmask with the gleaming fixtures which it wore to shield its face much like the rest of it was wrapped in woolen clothes and furs. A voice, tinny, metallic, shrill, and yet somewhat melodious, if quite childlike, and friendly in its way, replied: "I'm Mr Anshel Leibowitz. And if you were to please answer me the same, Miss...?" Heaven, they both had this screwy way to talk!

[Dramiscius]

Raising an eyebrow to the strange looking little fellow, Cecile can't help but wonder why he's wearing a gas mask.

She responds to him in a childlike voice

My names Margarete, but most people just call me margie. Have you seen my parents? I've been looking for them everywhere till you and your friend came in, and what's with the funny thing on your face? You some kinda space man or something?

I'm not really supposed to talk to strangers, but this place is so big.

[Dramiscius]

Rolls for subterfuge + wits (7)

[roll0]
[roll1]
[roll2]
[roll3]
[roll4]
[roll5]
[roll6]

[Dramiscius]

rerolling the one 10

[roll0]

[Worlok]

Countered by Perception + Subterfuge, making it 5 dice, meaning that's - wait for it - 6 successes for you.

[roll0]

Stay tuned for edit, will write his actions once there's results. Shoulda been just five. Anyhow, he got a one.
The stranger took her feat of subterfuge hook, line and sinker, for he said: "It means me great happiness to have met you, mademoiselle." And saying this, he even stood up from his lean-on pose to bow low and lift his furcap like people in long-bygone ages might have done with their big, ornate hats. "Yet I have not, nor was I made aware of Mr Hurst keeping another set of company tonight. If it would, however, leave you reassured, I am allowed to interrupt when Mr Leibowitz and Mr Hurst have talks. I might as such inquire in your stead, if you would have me do so, and am tempted to assure you that they can be found." And then, almost as an afterthought: "But you are right, the place is really big. And I wear this mask because my father says that once I remove it, my face grows old, and he would rather not have that upon me. Do forgive the oddity, please, Margarete." And with that, he indicated the hallway in an inviting gesture, and she could have sworn the left eye-goggle on his mask had just winked at her.

[Dramiscius]

Letting out a coy smile towards the strange fellow, Cecile skips through the door and continues to respond in the childish voice.

Well that sounds just fine, Mr... Anshel was it? Perhaps he know where they went, I tried to go find them by the car earlier but no one was around and their was a strange man trying to have me let in through the back gate, so I came back inside. Maybe Mr Hurst can get me home, this big empty place is kinda scary without my parents around.

[Worlok]

"Certainly. If you would do me the honor now...?" Anshel stepped out of the doorframe fully now, making to hold the door itself open for her.

[Dramiscius]

Cecile skips out through the doorway letting out a giggle

Why thanks, where are we goin?

[Worlok]

"To the office, I would say, Miss Margarete. Lest short-term memory deceives me utterly, that is where we shall find the two of them. Anything else I can do for you?" And with that, they were underway.

[Dramiscius]

Oh well then, lead the way, I'm not sure where that is.

[Worlok]

"Happily!" And with that, he began to walk there, all the way back towards the office.

In case she actually does follow, even the whole way being a relatively short one and all, they should soon come to stand in front of Gerald's office door again.

[Dramiscius]

Winding up in front of the door Cecile turns to her companion


Maybe you should go in first? I don't wanna get in trouble with the adults, especially ones I don't know.

[Worlok]

"I understand the sentiment, yet such does hardly behoove the gentleman." Anshel replied, and this time it seemed as if his mask was smiling at her, obviously despite no part of it moving an inch. "Yet, if you'd have it, I reckon I should like to thus, in that function, herald our presence to the esteemed Sirs. A moment, please." And with that, he produced what looked like a very long timpani mallet from somewhere inside his clothes, wielding it with both hands in an elegant flourish to knock on the door at the height an average adult man's hands might have struck the material despite his own diminutive physique.

Now, normally the doors were sound-proof enough to prevent the sounds of conversations held inside from ever really getting out, but still it seemed as if the place went more silent after the deed, and with an uncanny and effortless clarity the doors would normally not have allowed, Gerald Hurst's voice rang out: "Yes? Who is there?" - "It is but Anshel, Sir. Anshel Leibowitz, ruefully interrupting the sirs' conversation alongside and in the interest of one Miss Margarete, whom I believe to hold an active interest in having but a minor minute of your worthy time." - "I... What? I... I don't know a... who is there with you, Anshel? Who is this? Miss Margarete?" Even Malkavians have bad days, and for old Mr Hurst, this was apparently shaping up to be one of those. The older Mr Leibowitz had so far not said anything, but he certainly would be in the office as well.

[Dramiscius]

Oh Mr. Hurst, you must be old like my parents, they sometimes forget things to. You sent them away before your friend got here, but I wandered off and can't seem to find them, could you perhaps call them? Or have someone drive me home ?

[Worlok]

An awkward and long silence settled over the gathering, Anshel still leaning onto his oversized drumstick with an air of uncertainty that was palpable even given the impassive stare of his goggled mask. Finally, it was not Gerald, but Mr Leibowitz who spoke: "Why, Gerald, I certainly had not expected you to be entertaining visitors tonight. I do hope my presence did not beget a rare pleasant evening's premature end?" - "N-no, Eduard, it didn't, do not worry about that. I had merely forgotten about little Margaret here, is all." - "But of course, and I must apologise should my demeanor have left the impression of me casting doubt on your honesty. Yet what to do about this development?" - "I'm not quite sure. Normally, I could have my driver drop her off... But seeing how apparently he called in sick today, and his replacement too..." - "I understand. What a most troubling coincidence. Mayhaps, the subject of our appointment for tonight can stand a... moment's delay, however, until we have undertaken to set this straight." - "Er... Eduard?" - "Gerald?" - "I don't think that's necessary - Do you not employ a driver, too?" - "Why, certainly, I do at that. However it is a coincidence, to hear a young girl's voice account for unknown visitors, especially given our subject from before. So if I were to direct my staff to deliver her to... her father's home, I would be loath to allow such in ignorance of her person. I see, by the looks of you, that you... 'catch my drift', as I believe the vernacular goes."

Silence again. Longer, more awkward, this time around. Then: "Yes. Yes I do. But I must warn you, and it is my fault that I did not think to do so earlier - She does resemble her an awful lot." - "... 'Her', Gerald? You would not mean..." - "I would." - "I... see. Most curious, and in the light of such events as detailed earlier, my heartfelt condolences." - "Certainly. If you were so kind, however, as to let her in?" - "Why, happily. It is the least I could do in the face of such hospitality as your haven afforded me time and again. Anshele, I do believe the door has not been locked."

And certainly, after a click and a bump, he was proven right, and the door swung open by Leibowitz Jr's hand.

The scene that lay before the two small figures was not an overtly unusual one, but the alien red painting from earlier now stood on the desk, Mr Hurst holding it up with both hands and Mr Leibowitz, a fine-haired one-handed broom in hand, apparently polishing the frame. Both had interrupted their handiwork to look at the newly arrived children - which, after a fashion, they technically were - her father and sire clearly not feeling all that well given this development, and his guest's jet-black eyes aglow with an eerie glee. "Gerald, your sense of honesty truly is well beyond reproach. The resemblance is rather spectacular."

[Dramiscius]

Looking over towards Mr Leibowitz with a big doe eye'd look, Cecile stepped forward a pace or two clasping her hands behind her back whilst cocking her head slightly back and to the right as she began to speak

Mister, what's a re-sem-blance? And who do I resemblance ? I can wait Mr hurst if you're busy with Mr. Lie-bow-witz was it? I don't want mom and daddy getting anymore angry at me.

[Worlok]

"It is..." Leibowitz' hesitation somehow seemed odd on him. "It means that you resem... look quite a lot like somebody we know. Knew." That last one came as a swift addition after a side-glance at Gerald. "And I found it most remarkable just how close this resemblance was. As for the matter of hesitance, I do not believe that we have any reason to keep you waiting much longer than up to now, Miss Margarete." Whatever this guy's agenda was, he was odd in a way uncommon in even Kindred stock: The symmetric perfection of his features, as if cut from the marble of Ancient Greece by a discerning master's hand, seemed to hide something alien and sinister, more so, as a matter of fact, than even in most living dead whom young Miss Hurst had met, and the unblinking stare of those cold, shark-like eyes was an uncomfortable one to endure, even, yes, mayhaps more strongly so, in Cainite death. "Nor do I presume you could draw their ire for running late in coincidence. But might I inquire as to the cause of your stay in my good friend Gerald's house?" That was another thing: For while his voice certainly was an enchanting one, his tone was no less immutable than the expression on his face, and whatever emotion she found herself reading into it seemed to be projected by some other source. To listen to Eduard Leibowitz was like having a moving image described by a choir of bats in unhearable pitches of sound. Gerald undertook an interjection now: "Eduard, I don't think that that is necessary. Her parents are rather important business partners of mine, and young Margarete here has gotten lost before. A fairly regular occurence, if I do say so myself." A pause. Then Eduard again, and with a hint of amusement that came from nothing inside his voice: "Verily? And I thought I knew all the more influential families hereabouts. What then, Miss Margarete, is your... bloodline's name?"

[Dramiscius]

Bloodline? What's that? I don't like blood much sir, it's kinda icky. Can I go home now?

[Worlok]

"Why, that certainly is something, Gerald. A dislike of blood, some would most likely be inclined to claim, makes that particular resemblance nil." That disembodied amusement seemed to be there to stay, without however letting on whether it was the real deal or some sarcastic commentary sprung from an awareness of the fraud the Hursts had played on him. By the expression Eduard' side-glance evoked on Gerald Hurst's confused, no, nervous mien, the latter apparently wished that the same was not true for either one of the two men, at any rate. Indeed, one might have reckoned that even here, in his very homestead and place of work, Gerald Hurst was strongly wishing to be somewhere else entirely about now.

"Yet as for our small misunderstanding here, Miss Margarete, do rest assured that in speaking of bloodlines, I but sought to learn your family name, and must apologise should that peculiar turn of phrase have frightened you." That much, at least, seemed honest enough, and in saying so, Leibowitz bowed, rather low for a man of his willowy growth, the right hand upon his chest and the other behind his back. His face, against all odds and limitations of anatomy, was now at the same height as hers, and those terrible eyes were closed, for once. An opportunity Gerald used to shoot his daughter a pleading gaze.

[Dramiscius]

Oh, you mean like a last name? Mines, Williams. You sure ask alot of questions mister. And what's with the funny red picture?

[Worlok]

"Oh. Yes. Certainly my mannerisms must seem overtly... inquisitorial to one as young as you. I must apologise once more." Leibowitz straightened back up, and for a moment it seemed as if he was going to ignore her question entirely. But he apparently thought better of it. Even so, Gerald was faster than him: "It is of little import, Margarete. But a harmless, unassuming work of art." And the two of them shared a mutual glare of approval. Gerald's voice briefly began speaking in the back of Cecile's head: I'll tell you everything later. He'll be listening in on my Auspex again soon enough, but for now just wait for a chance- "To leave, however, I would reckon it would be sufficient if Anshel here were to see you off. He will instruct my driver with what instructions you leave him with, and then you can get home safe," Leibowitz took over. For a second there, it had looked as if he had been listening in, and tried to finish Gerald's sentence, there. Yet it might as well have been coincidence, given his manner of speech so far.

[Dramiscius]

Oh goody, lets be off then shall we!

[Worlok]

"You shall, at that. Anshele, would you please see our good friend Gerald's young guest off for us?" - "Sir!" - "Very good. Now shoo, and I must once again bid forgiveness for my curiosity from before." - "Eduard..." - "Gerald, I know it is rather uncommon for a guest to see off another. Yet given the circumstances such as they are, and seeing how..." One of those willowy fingers of his, tipped by a nail that did not want for a lot of what made a talon, briefly circled over an etching in the painting's frame, and the nebulous sense of amusement now became one of urgency. "... the state of our masterpiece is a worrying one, indeed..." - "Of course, that's not what I meant. It's... It is quite alright. Do forget it, Eduard. Would you extend my greetings to your parents, Margarete?"

The doors, previously closed by the smaller Leibowitz' eager hands, opened with an ephemeral air of something inevitable and horrifying being clumsily foreshadowed as he pushed them open with an ease that belied his short stature. "And remember to not let strangers into the house by night!" the older added, now all smarmy grins again, getting an uneasily laugh out of Gerald Hurst. As this went on, Anshel had already taken up his old shtick of bowingly indicating the hallway for Cecile to pass him by.

[Dramiscius]

Smiling as she exits the room, Cecile skips merrily out of the room.

Well goodbye then, nice meeting you Mr Lee-bow-itz, bye Mr Hurst.

[Worlok]

"Goodbye-" Hurst began, as if to say something more, but all that came was a worry-laden "- Margarete. Eduard, let us continue, yes?" - "Certainly. But I must say, what a delightful-" Then the doors fell shut.

Leaving Cecile in the silent, masked company of Anshel once more.

[Dramiscius]

OOC


So it would seem we're at an ending point, or do we continue the prologue?

[Worlok]

We certainly do. It's just the point at which Cecile should take initiative, seeing how Anshel is under instruction to see her off to the adress she specifies. :smallsmile:

[Dramiscius]

Oh good, off to the public library, my mum should be out in search of a new book. We usually go together, but when this kinda thing happens she'll usually go herself.

[Worlok]

"The... the library, Miss Margarete?" While he did not sound overtly quizzical or confused, Anshel appeared to not have been expecting that. "... very well. Follow me, please."

Upon leaving the manse, through the front doors incidentally, the small figure directed her towards a car that did not seem to quite fit the image of Mr Leibowitz, for it was very small, of no brand she was familiar with, and all of its original color had long been replaced by the red mark of what would appear to be rust. The missing license plate and darkened windows didn't exactly do its appearance any favors, and something oddly foreboding suffused the area around the ridiculously poorly-maintained vehicle. Nonetheless, her guide made for this car, and was holding the door open before long.

[Dramiscius]

Skipping along merrily, she approaches the car

Why thank you mister

she says before entering the rust bucket of an automobile.

[Worlok]

There was no response as he followed her in and sat down right next to her. Once the doors came shut, however, darkness settled over the interior of the vehicle, the windows having apparently been designed to allow as little light in as possible - and even then it seemed as if something, some curious, unnerving presence in the musky air, was actively amplifying that effect. Anshel finally did say something, and a low, raspy voice replied, neither of them speaking English for this purpose. It still sounded forcedly calm and casual, and the chuckle that came from the general direction of the driver's seat would have cast doubt on even the most believable assertation of good intent. "Library!" Anshel eventually commanded, and the chuckling ceased.

Yet the car didn't start, nor was any audible attempt to start it made. Silence settled. As if waiting for some sort of action, some manner of event, to trigger what would come to happen next.

[Dramiscius]

alright then, imma take a little snooze while on the way there

she says, leaning against the side of the seat and pretending to sleep.