Dropping Like Flies - V20 IC

[pife]

Still in Progress- Excuse my dust.

Starting Date: January 1, 2014
Location: The Greater Boston Metropolitan Area

New Years Day is often a downer for people. For one thing, a lot of them are hung over. Others have already broken their New Years Resolution. It's even a bit of a sad moment for Kindred.. Because "yesterday" was one of the easiest hunting nights of the year. Tons of people out and about, party atmosphere, lots of intoxicated mortals, law enforcement so busy with checkpoints and Public Intoxication arrests that they can't pay much attention to anything else.. In other words.. Paradise.

You have a full Blood Pool (less one, because you just woke up). Last night was easy pickins, so lets assume that you all fed to your shriveled little hearts content.


You rose tonight to the incessant yowling of a cat in heat. Marcy, the spunky little housecat, is obviously upstairs. From behind the door of what was once a large storage room, you hear the clickety clack of a keyboard. Apparently Angela is already up and hard at.. whatever it is she does. This is your second "safehouse" with her, and last night was the beginning of the second week. 50 crisp $20 bills are in your pocket, courtesy of her paying "rent" on time. From outside the house, you hear several loud stereo systems bumping the latest rap. Mattapan is heavily African-American, a run down community that used to be mostly Jewish. Nowadays, most of the local businesses are boarded up.

Also from upstairs, almost in counterpoint to the cats discordant sounds, is a repetitive "cheep.. cheep" of Fip the Sparrow. He's normally in the attic at this time of night, (It's about 9pm) so it's a bit strange that he's actually in the house. Though it doesn't bother you, you know that it's very cold tonight, probably in the low 20's. Not many people will be out tonight.

Angela, your.. tenant? Or perhaps she's a client? Whatever, the chick that you're hiding from whatever she's hiding from, she is going to have you take her spare laptop and charge the battery somewhere with electricity. It's a run-down, piece of crap laptop with no information on it. She actually brought it for just this reason.. For you to go recharge it. It's really starting to drive her crazy not to have electricity. You each have a couple of Coleman battery operated lanterns that you use for light in your little "home sweet home", but even though the temperature really doesn't mean much to your kind, Angela still says that she hates the cold. But, she pays well, and, even though you didn't ask her to, the other day she gave you an update on your family. Apparently, your mother uses Facebook to communicate with her friends, and Angela was able to hack into that feed and get all the latest happenings in Nebraska. You realize that you never even told her your last name.

Upstairs, Fip is chirping even more insistently. Either the cat is trying to get him, or he's trying to get your attention.



When you rise, you see the blinking red light on your secure laptop that tells you that you have a message. It's encrypted nine ways to Sunday, top of the line cryptography, you're pretty sure that the Pentagon would need the help of NASA to break into the thing. Powering it up, you can see that you have email from Johnny, which you read immediately.

Update from Johnny;
"Boss, one of the sheriff's lackeys visited me today, wants us to help with some missing people or something. She wants you to call her, set up a meeting, TONIGHT. Ugly Sid wants to know if we're going to be able to deliver his special order by this weekend. I checked with our guy, and he says it's a go. Petrovski is down with a nasty stomach bug, he'll be out of commission for a couple of days. Larter landed that consulting contract in Idaho, cha-ching! He's on the plane now, should be sending us an update by morning. I'm gettin' drunk tonight, but if you need me, I'll be at the Red Lion. Catch you later".

You know that Sid is a Nosferatu pusher, you do quite a bit of business with him. Petrovski is one of your newer goons, normally very solid. Larter is one of your tech-geniuses, and the consulting contract is with a small agricultural firm that has been doing business in Qatar, selling super-resilient seeds. They're thinking about possibly contracting for a few guys for personal security when they send their bigwigs. The Red Lion is actually Johnny's code for the Jade Tiger, a seedy, run down bar in Roxbury that he likes to drink at.

The weather outside is about 20 degrees, but that won't bother you. You just pay attention so that you put on the right type of clothes. The bank of surveillance cameras you have had installed in your "bedroom" all show green lights at the bottom, meaning that they're all up, and running current with all fail-safes in place. After a few minutes going through your normal "morning" routine, it appears that everything is running smoothly tonight, no major issues.




You rise as you normally do, and dammit, it happened again.. That fracking vision! Fracking Disney!

Cinderella is looking for something. She has on a ragged and ripped dress made of thin material, and Reebok Pump tennis shoes from the 80's. She is wandering through her stepmothers house, a large, sprawling manor house in the countryside, once finely appointed, but now run-down and nearly destitute. She creeps through the house slowly, nervously, peeking around corners, and reaching into dark rooms to flip the light switch, which lights actual torches set in the center of the floor of each room. Elsewhere in the house, her stepmother and stepsisters lurk. The thinner sister, wearing a hideous shiny blue dress that hangs over her skeletal form, is carrying a straight razor. Blood drips down her arms in the places that she has cut herself repeatedly. The fatter sister is completely naked, and is hiding in the basement, carrying a bloody railroad spike in one hand, and blue cotton candy in the other. Her face is smeared with the stuff, and something thick and white oozes ominously from her left eye, often dripping on her breasts, but sometimes falling to the stone floor with a wet "thwap". The stepmother is crouched near in the kitchen, near a gigantic fireplace with leering demons on the mantelpiece. She is dressed in austere finery, her hair perfectly done, her face a porcelain dream. In her lovingly manicured hands she holds a plate, and in the plate is a steaming serving of Eggs Benedict.

Trailing behind Cinderella is a tiny little mouse, walking upright on two legs and wearing ridiculous clothing and a pointy cloth hat. Jaq, (you know his name) seems to have succumbed to some horrible, wasting disease. His skin sags and bulges in strange places, and he has open sores on his lips that rip open the more he talks. He staggers after her with a leer, croaking out encouragement and advice in a wretched tinny voice. You know that he is trying to use Cinderella to lure the others to their deaths. Then, at last, he will be alone with Cinderella, so that he can take his time, and hide her fingers all throughout the house so that all of the other mice can have a scavenger hunt.

You don't remember going to the small gallery in the Mission Hill neighborhood of Boston where a number of your pieces are displayed. When you realize where you are, you find yourself already mid-conversation with Viktoriya Yorich, the stunning Toreador Harpy. Her golden hair reflects the soft light in your gallery, her angelic face twisted adorably in thought as she peruses one of your latest pieces. She is in the middle of a sentence when you start to hear her words.. ".. and now he's gone too", she says with a pout. "Did you know that he was always able to get me registration for all of my cars?" she asks, and she turns to gaze at you with piercing ice-blue eyes that seem too large to be real, but perfect on her. "Oh well", she laughs lightly, and lays her hand on your arm to lean closer. "He always smelled of anchovies anyway, it's better that he's gone", she concludes.

She lets you go, and wanders away without another word. There are only a smattering of guests left, as it is already nearly 11pm. Those that remain are the hard core, those that never leave at a polite hour. These are affluent people, and they are sitting comfortably in a small lounge near the entrance, drinking exotic coffee made from the feces of civet cats. Supposed to be one of the most exclusive coffee's in the world. Kinda makes you glad you're dead, actually. These are not, however, the cream of the crop of the art world. While they do occasionally peruse your gallery, it is normally only when there is a major unveiling, or when other dignitaries might be attending. Your cell phone vibrates once in your pocket, and you retrieve it to find that you have missed a call from Sythica.



It has been a pleasant evening. You received an invitation to "dine" with Caedral tonight. His home is a fine specimen of a Georgian style home, popularized in the 1700's, and in fact, his house has stood since 1745. It is sturdily built of red brick, very symmetrical, and has very fine furniture, all antique. Caedral considers himself something of a chess master, and adores the game. Your evening begins with a "quick" game. (For him, a quick game might take two hours). His conversation is polite and pleasant, at least until the topic of the recent disappearances come up. And you know who is behind it, he thunders as his bishop takes your Queens Knight. They've been crawling into the woodwork for years, and now they're ready to strike! He is referring to the Sabbat, of course. He is convinced that the Camarilla should begin fortifying itself, preparing for all-out war with them, and he believes that the Camarilla should pre-emptively strike. While we sit and watch, they are moving all of their pieces into position. Before long, he grumbles, it will be all over but the crying. And the Masquerade be damned then!

He snaps his fingers, and one of his many retainers steps quickly up, holding a plain manila folder. Taking it from the man, who is slender, of average build, with a military style haircut, Caedral thumbs through it, selecting two sheets of paper and handing them to you. The first is a picture, black and white, but very sharp, of a man standing behind a tree and looking out. He is dressed warmly, in a long black parka. He has small, sharp eyes, and a neatly trimmed goatee of reddish-brown. The hood is up, so you cannot see his hair, but his green eyes are bloodshot and watery. This man is one of their agents, Caedral continues. Do you know where this picture was taken, he asks quietly? Outside my bloody HOUSE, that's where!! Indicating the second sheet, Caedral continues.. Everything I have been able to find out about the man is on that second sheet. The Prince is on a bloody rampage because of it! Now.. he pauses, staring at the marble chess set with ivory and onyx pieces cut to resemble Revolutionary War soldiers. Looks like the Tremere aren't making fast enough progress for His Highness, he snorts contemptuously. The Prince wishes quicker results, and has asked me to help provide them. Do you have time to work with the Warlocks, and see if we can't get something useful accomplished? They wring their hands and moan that they don't have the resources to devote. Worthless usurpers, if you ask me, highly overrated. I have several other projects working right now, and I haven't any to spare for this. Help them, and it will procure favor for both of us, Jeremiah. And I do not forget my debts. You get the sensation that he's not actually "asking" you, but he's at least technically giving you the option to decline.


You are summoned to the Reading Room, the little beasty rasps in it's high, thin voice. Your Sire's servant, which he calls Caladicus, is a disgusting little beast, about 2 feet tall, made up of God knows what. There are lesions on its 'skin', and it's long pointy nose has a boil on it that looks near to bursting. It fixes you with it's beady little eyes, and then turns and scampers away. You had both been in the hallway of the Apprentices Wing of the Chantry, a long somber expanse of polished mahogany. Very Spartan, nothing lines the walls of this area, and the monotony is only broken by deeply inset doorways on both sides of the walkway. A thick, plush brown rug lays exactly in the center of the hall, covering 80% of the polished red Italian marble floor.

The Reading Room lay at the back of the Open Library, that which Apprentices could utilize. The Reading Room was nearly always silent, and today was no different. Plush chairs sat grouped at the ends of the tall oaken shelves, and powerful standlamps stood ready to illuminate any corner. Thousands of volumes, histories and biographies, ledgers from antiquity showing the sale of slaves, or the purchase of spices, maps from cartographers great or unknown, mystical grimoires, one of which that was even known to verbally answer questions about it's contents, all of these were painstakingly catalogued and cared for, mostly by Low Apprentices like yourself. Were you looking for alternate employment, "Bookbinding" might be an adequate calling, for all of the hours you had spent repairing and maintaining these treasures. At the rear of the room, which sprawled both long and wide, was an open archway sculpted to look like a giants mouth. Within lay the Reading Room.

Inside, four ancient desks squatted solidly. One was hewn in one piece from a majestic redwood, two of them were typical (though finely appointed) brobdingnagian monstrosities of oak, and the fourth, upon which Marco sat impatiently, was forged of pure silver. (Kara, you know to keep from touching this beautiful, but painful piece of furniture). He leaned/sat on the edge of this gleaming representation of excess and excellence, mystic runes carved into every flat surface, fluted designs on every curve. Marco was stroking his goatee, as he often did when he was deep in thought. When he saw the two of you approaching, he straightened his tie (Marco is very fastidious about his appearance, and is typically in a suit of one kind or another. Today's selection was a brown so deep it was nearly black, with a mustard colored shirt of fine silk and whose tie was of glossy brown silk. Making eye contact with each of you in turn, he nodded and stands, moving away from the desk which he knows Kara cannot touch.

Without preamble or delay, he begins, The Prince and the Regent grow weary of these games. Someone is trying to bait us into moving openly, of striking at a fly while a wolverine stalks us from behind. Our brethren begin to huddle behind their doors, afraid to walk the night. They feel that something.. ominous, approaches. He pauses dramatically. And so it does, though even our best efforts to identify it have been hampered. You heard her tonight. She is frustrated, they all are. And now, he says quietly, almost resignedly, she and the Prince, in their infinite wisdom, have decided to unleash the children upon them. The "children", you know, refers to you and the other 'young' Kindred in Boston. Marco is relatively elitist, and believes that until you have a few hundred years under your belt, you should stay to the shadows and watch, learn from your betters. He reaches out to lay a finely manicured hand on Kara's shoulder. His other hand reaches out to Jason, but stops just short, hanging there for a moment before falling away. You are not ready, he admits, but the choice has been removed from me. You will either make me proud.. he hesitates, looking first Kara, then Jason squarely in the eyes with a merciless gaze. or you will both prick the Dragons Tooth. The Dragons Tooth, Marco's pried possession, a stone carving about the size of an armchair, cut to resemble a dragon rising up on its hind legs, wings outstretched. It was supposedly from Sumeria, a representation of "the first dragon", 'Kur'. His greatest efforts could not determine the 'why' of it, but if a person pricked their finger on one of it's fangs, something terrible sometimes happened. A noxious, caustic gas bellows out of the dragon's mouth, surrounding only he or she who pricked it, and burning them into ash. It didn't always work, in fact, it seemed rather random. Marco would often use this punishment for ghouls who were not quick enough to obey. He had never threatened to use it on either of you, not even Jason.

Primogen Caedral has wormed his way into the Prince's good graces, and prevailed upon him to add one of his own to this hunt. We are.. His mouth twists in distaste, instructed.. to welcome him into our confidences, at least as far as they pertain to this endeavor. As we will not stomach his presence here, you will therefore need to meet him elsewhere. His hand dips down into his breast pocket, bringing forth a small card of stiff paper, which he hands to Kara. his fingers lingering to stroke hers as he releases it. His eyes soften for a moment, and Jason can see the longing in his master's eyes for this woman. The moment of pleasant reflection lasts but a moment though. The card gives you the address and the time. You will meet him at the JFK Museum and Library, tomorrow, at 10:30 sharp! Except as our precepts dictate, you are to treat him like.. He hesitates one more, mouth stumbling over unpleasant words. an equal. You are to find and run to ground whomever is assailing our defenses and extinguishing our assets. The Regent has insisted that Low Apprentice Marco join you in this endeavor. Do you have any questions?

Your eyes open. The somber elegance of Violet's bedroom washes over you. Regardless of anything else, she has fine taste in furnishings. Her alabaster skin is cool next to yours as she lies nude in the deep plush confines of her canopy bed. Less than a minute after you stir, she begins to move also, turning her head, her blazing blue eyes snapping open, and a knowing smile crosses her lips. You heard what the Regent said, darling she purrs throatily. She is obviously in a good mood this morning, else her greeting to you could have been a slap across the face. You are going to make me so proud, she coos softly, pulling you into an embrace. Things continue like this for a few moments, and then she rises from the bed, picking up her white silk negligee from the ground where it had been dropped last night. Still standing there holding it, her eyes grow sharper. Are you full, my pet, do you need me? She frequently has you feed from her, claiming that the feeling she gets is sublime. Of course, you have never been allowed to return the favor. She motions toward your clothing, indicating that you should get into it. You're going to be working with two of the other Low Apprentices, Marco, Kara and Jason. They are receiving their instructions from Portiere as we speak. I didn't want to tell you last night, as we were... busy, she finishes with a wicked smile. You should find them and start making your plans. You won't fail me, will you?

Once you finally escape from Violets grasp (for the moment), you are able to check your cellphone. You have a text message from Bryan, your dayshift bartender. "Boss, Phil ain't here, didn't come in, isn't answering his phone. I can't stay, gotta drive to Montpelier tonight, remember? What should I do?" It was timestamped about an hour ago.

[Survy]

James glances up at the ceiling as he hears the incessant chirping, sighing slightly at the sound. Fip was a useful little bird, no one could doubt that, but sparrows weren't the calmest bunch to put it mildly. To make it worse, keeping a cat in close proximity to him wasn't exactly a great help to the sparrow's nerves.

Still, it was possible something had happened. God only knows he'd been driven away from enough of his hideouts by street kids looking for a place to party. If he was lucky he could scare them off, if not...he'd have to move again. And that would be a conversation with Angela work looking forward to, he was sure.

James begins mounting the steps two at a time, cursing as his boots dig into his ankles. Looks like it's time for new boots. Great. At least i've got cash now. His jeans and plaid were still in good enough shape at least, even if Angela couldn't stop laughing at the latter.

Reaching the second floor, he starts looking around for Fip, glowing red eyes easily piercing the darkness. He whistles slightly as he holds out his hand for the bird to land on, ready to make eye contact.

[Danteric]

Jeremiah reaches across the chess table to take the sheets from Caedral, and takes a look at the picture. "Outside your house? This is a problem indeed." says Jeremiah, as he moves a pawn forward on the chess board. "I cant say im excited about working with the warlocks, but if means assisting you, I will without a doubt.".

As he waits for Caedral to make his move, he begins looking at the second page of the papers given to him. "So where am I to meet these Tremere? I suppose they wont be too fond of a Brujah coming in to say hello, but I guess they'll have to grin and bear it." he says, while continuing to read the paper. Flicking back to the photo of the man, he stares at the picture, trying to memorize what the man looks like, in the chance he may come across him. I almost feel bad if Caedral catches him on his property again, though I suppose it'd make a good example to the rest of the Sabbat.

[Vetril]

Gary stares at the display of his phone, pushing back the last remains of his dream into the dark corners of his mind.

"So Cinderella wore Reeboks. Funny."

The artist feels the bite of cautious curiosity, as he sees Sythica's name. Isn't she supposed to be working at this time, or something like that?
Instinctively, Gary reaches out with his consciousness, feeling the familiar web of connections between those sharing his blood legacy. To him, the perception of the others' presence is both disquieting and comforting at the same time. This ambiguity is not something he can fully explain, or even begin to comprehend - not on a conscious level anyway. Through the network, things gained a certain perspective. It makes you wonder how many of us there are - he rationalized - And if we are a horde, just how many horrible things go skulking in the night?.
He drops this line of thought, as always. He doesn't like to think about the implications.
Snapping back to the present, Gary notices he has been standing still for almost two minutes, staring at the phone display that, by now, has gone dark. He looks around to check if someone noticed. What was I doing, standing there like one of those creepy crazy guys you see on the streets?
Deciding to feign interest in one of the paintings he can see from his position, Gary hits the fast recall button with his thumb. He listens to the signals coming from the device.

"What the hell" - he mutters - "let's see what she wants."

[miinstrel]

That ancient lizard symbolizes the final death and the righteous wrath of his house, stirring up feelings of fear mixed with curiosity. Jason had never seen it in action, but was intrigued with its entropic tendencies. Still, better to witness it from a safe distance rather than first-hand experience.

He leans his head back slightly, trying to get a glimpse of the card as Marco passes it to Kara but finds it turned in unison with his movement keeping it just out of sight. In any other situation it would be a mere coincidence, but the favoritism was palpable today. Marco's eyes showed a yearning for his second childe, but in his lust he failed to notice the same expression appearing for an instant in Jason's eyes for his maker's attention.

"The magician's talents will prove useful, but we shall be sure you are lauded for the resolution to this scandal." Jason's runs his thumb along the pages of the closed Bible in his hands, stopping near the passage as he recites it by heart. "Breach for breach, eye for eye, tooth for tooth. As they hath caused a blemish on our clan, so shall it be done to them again."

"Do we have any information on patterns to the attacks? A particular part of town or assets related to a specific interest?"

Is Lucrezia the Prince's childe that has disappeared recently? Who is the other "Prince's favorite" that's gone missing? Both things I'm sure we would have heard by now.

[Soras Teva Gee]

Marco's horrid little homunculi found Kara putting the finishing touches on her nightly 'morning' routine. She had woken with the sunset heralded by the ringing of her now badly outdated phone's buzzing alarm. That reminder wasn't really nessecary she supposed, but it Kara liked the routine and the sense of definite time it gave her. Rising she had readied herself for the night ahead. Since her transfiguration that was much simpler then it had been as a mere mortal, but some things didn't change. And so Caladicus had found her before a mirror brushing her wavy blonde hair into something approaching order. The phantom memory of heartbeat came to her upon hearing the message and she smiled. Marco wanted to see her, that was always promising.

Outside the Chantry's wall would still be a New England winter, and this year had been particularly galling. It had been quite the shock to the girl from San Diego she'd been upon first coming to Boston. Now she could wear a sundress in sandals in the middle of a blizzard without any concern for comfort, and the dark power in her whisphered to her to flaunt all convention and show her power to the world. Of course that wouldn't do at all though. Standing out like that would draw eyes, and where eyes went questions soon followed. And that would not do. The philistines of the world didn't understand what she'd become, and though now their better she could not take them all on. So she went with an utterly normal affair. The inevitable pair of jeans with a white belt and a knit blue turtleneck sweater, to that she added a pair of white Ugg boots to match the belt. Pulling the ensemble on she noted they were getting a bit worn, how long since her mortal mother had given her those boots? Had it been highschool. She really needed to get a new wardrobe, but her funds had dwindled over the years to pitiful amounts. She needed to get some source of income, a nice young executive maybe to be her arm candy and occasional blood bag? Boston was a business town there should be at least one available.

Entering the Reading Room Kara again felt the phantom sensation of her heart beating faster, as she still did every time she saw her Sire increasing to a pounding as he spoke and put a hand upon her. She smiled warmly at him. This was the man who's power had taken her, dominated her, and transformed her into something utterly new and better. She should have been horrified, but she had loved it, every moment of it. He had shown her a world so much deeper and richer then her silly existence before, a world of such power beyond the boring old mortal world. He had filled an ache she had not even known she'd had until he'd satisfied it. She did not love her Sire, this was beyond such things. He was the glorious and powerful beast that had taken her and transformed her. And one day she would show him she had become the very same creature.

She hardly even noticed Jason. Such a shame her 'dear brother' was such a failure. Oh it wasn't said exactly, but it was evident he was squandering the gifts their Sire had given to both. A fate she would not fall into, of that she was sure. Though still this sounded like it would be important enough that even the poor older childe might earn some redemption. Even Marvel Boy (for her there was only one Marco) was involved it seemed, truly they were throwing everything at this.

Taking the card Kara carefully read the information over before slipping it into a back pocket. She put it in her purse at first opportunity.

"Thank you Sire, I shall do my utmost in this task so as to not shame your faith in me. Also dear brother I think if there were known patterns we'd not be being sent out as stalking horses. It is probably worth looking over any raw information available though. There's always the chance to find what others may missed and detailed knowledge can't help but be useful."

[pife]

Fip flutters down to you, alighting on your hand, and fluffing his wings excitedly. He knows that you want to know of strange things occurring in the area, and you have occasionally given him some special treats from Sythica's store that he finds particularly appetizing. He pecks around your hand, looking for his reward. Make an Manipulation+Animal Ken roll to see how effectively you are able to communicate with him. In the background, Marcy continues to yowl unhappily, and then trots over to you, and starts stropping herself against your legs insistently, which makes Fip a little fidgety.

Caedral nods in satisfaction as you agree to his 'request', a small smile playing briefly upon his thin lips. He tells you You will meet them in the Library of the JFK Museum at 10:30 tomorrow night. I have arranged for the night watchman to "forget" to lock the employee entrance on the West end of the building. Don't disturb any of the exhibits, if you please, , he adds. There are cameras, but.. you won't have to worry about them, that's been handled as well. There should be three of them. There is technically no "rank structure" involved here, but expect them to attempt to lead. He fixes you with a serious look. Personally, I don't care who is in charge, as long as you get results. There are other operatives working on this problem from different angles, but we want your group to attempt try to determine the connection between the victims, if any, and if possible, determine whom is physically performing the attacks. We are gathering the details of all of the victims now. You will find a flash drive containing this information taped to the back of the shelf holding the collected works of Conan Doyle. He reaches into his vest pocket, and pulls out a tiny vial, holding no more than a few drops of thick, dark blood. He hands it to you, and continues. The thumb drive has a biometric denial system, and cannot be accessed without first using this in the aperture, so take a laptop. And no, he confirms, eyebrows furrowing. It is not my blood. Keep sharp against observation, and if you see the man in this photo... He pauses, and moves his Queens rook into "Check" against your king. Your options are to either; defensively block by sacrificing a pawn, and maintaining the status quo of the game, or, aggressively seizing his rook with your Queen, though this move is riskier and will set the game into a battle of attrition. Kill him. He leans back in his plush antique chair, the wood creaking slightly as he does so. He reviews the board in calm contemplation. Waiting.

Your senses expand into the comforting unintelligible babble that resides in the back of your mind, soothing, like a warm blanket on a cold day. While sometimes you are able to pull meaning from the ebbing and flowing tide of thoughts, at this time, there is nothing but the murmuring of an unknown number of voices, like white noise. As you move to put away your phone, you are certain that you see the emaciated and contagion-ridden Jaq waving at you from the otherwise dark display. You wonder where this particular vision was conjured from, and then you remember that there is a production of Cinderella playing at the Colonial Theater, the oldest continuously active theater in Boston, having been established in 1900. Perhaps you saw or heard some advertisement that your mind captured and spit back at you.

The phone rings, once, twice, and is answered on the third ring. How is my 'arteest' doing tonight?, a low, cool female voice asks from the other end. After a moment of pleasantries, she brings up the reason for her earlier call. Someone was here asking after you yesterday, someone I don't know. Says her name is Drusilla, or some such. Says she's interested in commissioning you for some work. If you are interested. Bubo doesn't think it's a good idea, but thought you should know. Bubo is the name of a tiny spotted owl that Sythica found recently with a broken wing. Now that it is healed, it still won't leave, and has become something of a mascot at 'Furballs After Dark'.

You speak to her for another minute or so, and notice that the last of the nouveau riche are hugging and kissing cheeks, saying goodbye before wrapping themselves in their warm clothing and venturing out into the chill night. Within moments, you will be alone, save for the exhausted art major intern who volunteers at your gallery for free. His name is Ethan, and he also is an avid fan of those enchanted evenings when you require his vitae, (he's part of your Herd) though he looks wan and bedraggled this night. Want me to lock up, Gary?


No, that would have been Brooke Banning (the Prince's childe). The other favorite was John Redding, of Clan Ventrue.

Marco gazes a moment longer at Kara's near-perfect features, his intense eyes lit. The tip of his tongue touches the corner of his mouth, and then he turns to Jason. He nods almost imperceptibly in approval or mild approbation. These details will be provided by Caedral's pawn, he informs you. Use this, if you have need. He withdraws two small, plastic cards from an inner pocket, handing one to each of you. They appear to be Visa Cash cards, debit cards that do not require names or identification. Don't bother me if you don't have information, but it would be wise to move quickly. I don't know how many nights we can keep the Regent satisfied without progress, and if the attacks do not cease, the pressure will grow.

Turning his body to directly face Kara, he continues. As usual, you see the situation for what it is, my dear. His voice is almost a purr as he openly gazes at her body. Though many would not admit it to you, you are, in fact, being used by those above us to flush the perpetrators. This does not mean that you are not precious to me, and I would not see you harmed. The stress on the word "you" was virtually unnoticeable, but "barely" is enough. He was clearly reassuring Kara.. more. All of the information that you are going to be given will be provided by the messenger boy from the Brujah. I think his name is.. Jebidiah, or Josiah, something equally absurd. . Tearing his gaze from Kara's bosom, he regards you both impassively now. Trouble me not with trivialities, but if you have information, or great need, you know how to reach me. Now go. I have my own briefing to attend. He walks between the two of you and toward one of the several (Four, to be exact) doorways leading out of the Reading Room, though you are only permitted to use two of them. One returns you to the library proper, the other leads to a room where ancient texts are repaired and analyzed, along with all of the equipment for performing such tasks. As to where the other two doors lead, you literally don't even have a guess, though it is for one of these mysterious portals that Marco now strides.

[Torgarn]

Marco immediately replies to Bryan, When do you need to leave by?

He dresses himself in an sharp business suit, one that hangs a bit loosely around the sleeves.

He then walks around a bit, gathering up his various things he feels he might need for this nights work while waiting to hear back from Bryan. He slips a knife up each of his sleeves and grabs various other utility items.

His discomfort with this new locality has dispersed in the last few weeks. Having not been given a location to meet those Violet desires him to work with, Marco muses over the idea of tending the bar for himself tonight. Having them meet him in his own demense seemed like a good way to help offset the advantage in numbers that they would have over him.

He sends Violet a text, How am I to contact these Low Apprentices I am to cooperate with?

[Survy]

James shifts his foot a bit, glaring down at Marcy for a moment. Then taking a bit of bird seed out of his pocket, he holds it in a fist in his other hand, looking back at Fip. Sparrows weren't the easiest bird to talk to, their minds very simple, but with some conditioning they could generally be counted on.

Lifting the little bird up to eye level, James begins chirping and whistling lowly at the bird, the sounds seemingly impossible to make with a normal mouth."Alright Fip. Did you see something outside? You get some seed if you answer."

[roll0]

[Danteric]

Jeremiah reaches over and takes the small vial from Caedral, and slips it into his pocket and takes mental notes of the locations that Caedral specified in the museum. Looking back down at the chess board, he noticed Caedral moving his rook into Check against his king. "Hmm, clever move, as usual, you are a much better at chess then I, but I do enjoy our games." says Jeremiah, scratching his chin.

Not wanting to take an unneeded risk, Jeremiah sacrifices his pawn to guard against Caedrals rook, trying to buy time to figure out a new strategy to capture his king instead. "I hope the Tremere are useful, as I couldnt care less if they want to lead this...Coterie, but if we run into the man stalking your haven, they better be able to hold their own, as I have a feeling he might not be alone." says Jeremiah, as he folds up the notes given to him previously and slides it into his jacket pocket.

"And hopefully they aren't a sour bunch, nothing worse then a group of backstabbing Tremere, I'd almost rather deal with a pack of lupines." he says, half-sarcastically.

[Soras Teva Gee]

Seeing Marco's gaze Kara shifted her body, hips to one side and arcing her back slightly playing into her sire's gaze. She took the card and the compliment with a slow wink, turning her head slightly so Jason would not see it leaving it just for Marco. This was a plus, perhaps there might even be a chance to spend it on something she could keep afterward, that would be the best of both worlds. Not that she would dream of embezzle the money or making truly frivolous purchases, she'd not risk Marco's anger for mere cash when she had all eternity to find that. No reason one could not kill two birds with one stone though.

As Marco left Kara moved about the room to sit on the edge of one of the oak desks, arms behind her tapping her fingers lightly on the wood. Now that her Sire was gone she actually had to consider whom she would be working with. Jason was a humorless boor as often as not and she didn't know just what his problem was, Marvel Boy was amusing but had practically joined the Chantry last night and she barely knew him. And working with a Brujah too? Well at least if heads needed busting that would be well covered, it would be a seven night wonder if he was good for anything else. She supposed it would have to all be up to her and the Padre who shared her blood.

"Hmm well then that didn't take long did it?" she said to Jason now the only one in the room, "So what do you think about our partners in this operation eh?

[Vetril]

Gary's vision, including Jaq the mouse, is quickly forgotten as he listens to what his sire has to say. The vampire is surprised not so much by the news - his art seems to be quite popular right now; at least, popular among other cainites. No: he is surprised that, of all people, Sythica would act as the middle man.

"Wait, Drusilla? A vampire name like that one from, uh, Stoker or some other classic author? And why did she ask you anyway? I mean, why not come to the gallery, or my agent, or me? Is she a... You know. Oh, one moment."

Gary covers his phone with the other hand, as he nods to the art student. It is indeed getting late, and he

"Yes, go ahead - the night's over. Thank you, Ethan."

As the mortal is leaving, the painter gives him a quick distracted examination, but, even then, he can't fail to notice his obviously unkept appearance. Gary can't help but call him.

"Hey. You all right? You look awful. Do you need a couple of nights off?"

The artist feels a mental itch, as a mental alarm starts ringing: it is about something. Something that he heard tonight, and that makes him wonder if he should be wary of Ethan's unspoken problems. Remember, remember, the fifth of November he thinks, as he tries to put his finger on whatever is bothering him.

[miinstrel]

Jason accepts the card with a smile, grateful for the small bit of attention from Marco despite having to share the moment with Kara. As his unholy father left the room, his mind began to wander and fantasize about the possibilities if he were to succeed in this task. Even if Marco gives Kara more of the credit, it will surely put him on better terms with their sire.

Kara's words snapped him out of his momentary daydream (nightdream?). Sound echoed around the vaulted hall regardless of the volume, and her voice filled the empty space as though she were all around him. Her question got him thinking in a similar vein, but their interactions with Marco left him in a good mood.

"Oh, we're all god's childer after all," he replied with a smile. The word 'god' didn't seem to echo as loudly as the others for some reason. "In all seriousness, for once we may enjoy each other's company. Violet's plaything scarcely knows how to use his fangs, and Caedral's pawn... well he can pretend to help, but this is a thinking man's game." As Jason speaks he moves over to the silver desk and sits on it opposite Kara, enjoying the feeling of power touching silver gives him over her.

"On the other hand... more pressure will be on us to succeed. If heads are to roll, Ariana will look to take ours before the little magician's, I'd imagine."

[Soras Teva Gee]

Kara allowed herself to chuckle. It seemed her dear brother had been having similar thoughts. Maybe he wasn't completely hopeless afterall.

"Is that quote about 'thicker then water' a scripture padre? I guess in the right company your 'family' always ends up looking much better. We've finally found something we can agree upon. Hmm... well since were not meeting the Rabble until tommorrow I've half a mind to check out Marvel Boy tonight see what use to us he'll really be. Otherwise I think I'll Hunt tonight, don't know if you had as much fun as I did the last few days but we should probably keep the tanks full up if were heading into trouble."

[BananaPhone]

Johnny's message rose the corners of Lexus' lips into a smile with a soft, amused snort - he loved that bar.

Considering everything in the email, Lexus rose from her chair and moved over the heavily tinted ceiling-to-wall window of her living quarters that granted her a view of Bostons skyline. Looking over the sea of jewels that made up every illuminated room, the Ventrue gave pause to consider the idea of stepping up recruitment for the firm in the wake of several new contracts...it wouldn't hurt having more legitimate earners on the payrole.

Taking out her phone, Lexus flipped it onto speaker and held it lazily in front of her chest as she waited for the dial-tone to end with its recipient picking up.

ooc:
Phoning the Sherrif.

[miinstrel]

Jason smiles softly. The phrase, while frequently cited with religious origins, actually has nothing to do with scripture whatsoever. Part of his job as a spiritual leader was to guide his children through these proverbs to the truth of the holy texts. The blood of the Covenant is thicker than the water of the womb. In other words, the bonds of those spilling their enemies' blood together or who enter into sacred pacts are far stronger than the coincidental association of siblings with whom one shared a mother. In this situation, Kara actually filled both roles as comrade and sister, but he simply chose to reply, "I don't believe that one is scripture."

"Checking in with Marco does sound like a wise idea though," he continues, folding his hands behind his back, the Bible ever-present between them, as they sauntered down the infinitely long hallway. "With the inclusion of other clans it will be important to present a unified front for our house, no matter how young he may be. I think after the three of us talk I might hold an impromptu sermon for my flock. There's no telling how many nights this hunt for Jacopo's children will take. And who knows," he shrugs. "Perhaps the meek have inherited information."

[pife]

As soon as possible, my mom is in the hospital, remember? the return text vibrates your phone.

Violet watches you dress, and toys with your tie, cinching it tight enough that, if you still needed to breathe, you'd be in trouble. Do I look like your concierge? Violets voice is sharp and cold. She is frequently like this, quicksilver with her moods, at least when it concerns you. She walks over to a small panel inset into an inner wall of her condominium, and punches a few buttons. The North wall splits in the middle, two metal "blast doors" sliding open to reveal a lovely and tasteful patio, overlooking a portion of the Arnold Arboretum in Jamaica Plain. The view is breathtaking from 14 stories up, with snow on the ground, and covering the trees, the clear sky showing bright stars twinkling overhead in the bitter cold. She lives in an exclusive residence, benefitting from the proceeds of a hefty investment portfolio she built for herself years ago.

You sense motion, but not with your eyes. A presence that is now familiar to you has arrived. You close your eyes and relax your mind, as you learned to do many years ago. Willis Flint has returned. Though you cannot see him, you can 'smell' the musky cologne that he used to wear, and occasionally you can hear the sound of a childs jack-in-the-box when he is near, as musical toys were how Willis would lure children to him before he engaged in depraved acts against them. Though disembodied, Willis pants when he speaks, as though he had run a long distance. You can hear the loud, wet smacking sound his lips make as he compulsively licks them. I, ah.. I have something.. Ah, but it, it will take, ah, two.. Willis is, in fact, a spirit, a ghost, a poltergeist, a being from beyond, as it were. He died several years ago while trying to escape the police, slowly bleeding out, staining the lurid polaroid pictures that you keep locked in a secret place. Willis liked to take pictures of his favorite activity, and when he died, his 'stash' was never found. Neither were the bodies of 6 of the 14 children that he had abducted over the years. These were the self-same children who were featured in the disgusting photos.

You have always been able to feel, to hear, and even, with effort to communicate with creatures from the afterlife. You've never known how, no philosopher or psychic has ever been able to adequately explain your "gift" to you, and you have asked many. The spirits actually seem to come to you, actually, sensing that you are different, and that somehow you can communicate with them. Willis is one such. Back in Las Vegas, at the height of one of your shows while you were still alive, there was a pounding in your head, and screaming, endless screaming. It caused you to fumble several of your most complicated and lauded tricks, ruining the show, and almost causing you to be fired outright. It was Willis, trying to get your attention. There was a box of photographs, hidden in the walls of the now-closed-down daycare that he had been employed at, and he wanted them. Actually, he wanted them destroyed, as they were the chain that kept him fettered to the here and now. You have had conversations with Willis, some willing, some because when the mood struck him, he would follow you, whispering his favorite things, delighting in the revulsion that it would engender in you. Favors, he had told you then. Favors, traded evenly. You would procure his box of 'treasures', and he would find things out for you. On a quid pro quo basis, you would agree to burn one (or more) of the photographs, in exchange for what he could "sell" you.

It appears that he had something important. Willis had only ever demanded that two photos be destroyed on one other occasion. When one of the nations foremost "magic debunkers", the famous 'Penn and Teller' had challenged you to fool them, Willis fed you information about what they were hiding, and was even able to manifest enough energy to actually, literally make a table float in midair. For the first time ever, the duo had been defeated, unable to explain your abilities in legerdemain, further cementing your reputation in Vegas, and lining your pockets for years. For that, you burned two.

You have no illusions that Willis is reformed. On the contrary, he spends most of his time in the presence of other depraved inviduals, lapping up the residual energy from their horrific deeds. However, Willis despises his current state, and wishes to 'move on', whatever that means. He cannot venture more than a few miles from where his pictures are, and wants them destroyed, hoping that it will free him one way or another. Either he will be wholly destroyed, or he will be released to the 'other places', or even possibly be 'released' outright, and be free to move about to anyplace, unencumbered by the "leash" that his pictures represent.

I, ah, saw something you'll want to see, he continues with a chuckle. Take two of my pictures with you tonight, I'll find you later, when they're back, so I can show you. The interaction has taken only a few seconds, and likely as not, Violet never even noticed you stiffen when he 'appeared'.

I think they are at the Chantry, Violet grumbles at you. You should check there just before dawn. And maybe you should stay there tonight, as well, she finishes in a huff. I'm busy. Turning on her heel, she flounces off toward the bathroom to begin her ablutions.

Your cell phone, which lay forgotten in your hand during the events of the last minute, vibrates and springs to life in your hand, ringing loudly. When you answer it, you discover that it is Genevieve, a ghoul who acts as something of an administrative assistant for the Chantry. She is extremely businesslike, with the hint of a French accent that she hasn't lost in over two-hundred years of life. She informs you that Marco Portiere has respectfully requested that you coordinate a meeting with his childe Kara tonight, (she gives you a cell phone number that should reach her), concerning the Regent's recent directives. "Have you any questions?", she finishes.

Fip bobs his entire body up and down in pleased apprehension. "Seeds?", he chirps. "Seeds"! He looks up at your face, his tiny brown beak opening and closing rapidly. "Saw chasing", he begins excitedly. Smells-like-you. "Lots of not-you. You chases you"! He chirrups loudly, then corrects himself. "Smells-like-you runs, smells-not-like-you chases. Into big hard nest. Has high nest-place-claws. Smells-like-you stays in nest, leaking. Not-smells-like-you, they leave nest. Go in not-nest-colory-scary-fast-hard low-runner. Smells-like-you sleeps, leaking. Much, much sleep. Much, much leaking. Come, come! Fip show! Come, come! Fip flits into the air, fluttering his wings, darting to near a window with a small hole broken out of it, thanks to a thrown rock at some point in the past, then back to you, pecking lightly at your closed seed-wing. Seed?

All the while, Marcy continues to strop your legs, meowing loudly, but you think she is merely hungry. Or bored. Or both, who knows what a cat is thinking, they're even harder to talk to than sparrows! If you can get them to talk, that is.

Behind you, the door opens again, and Angela backs into the room, playing out a long cord from a spool hanging from the small tool-belt that she now has strapped to her waist. Hearing the bird chirp, she jumps half out of her skin (figuratively), and spins, eyes wide with fright at the shadow that is you, until she recognizes who is standing before her. "Oh", she stammers. I saw last night that the people next door have good bandwidth, but I need to tap into it. I have a way to piggyback their internet wirelessly, but I need to get my repeater closer to their cables, and splice into their ... She puts her head back down and continues backing through the room, mumbling out the rest of her explanation and playing out wire from the spool towards the window above the kitchen sink. At this point, she pulls something else from her belt and begins fidgeting with it, but her back is to you by this point, so you can't see what she's up to.

You only say that because you never HAVE faced a pack of Lupines, Caedral answers quietly, though there is no heat in his voice. Nasty business, that. He continues to study the board, and says thoughtfully, The Usurpers have their uses, have no doubt, and yes, their 'friends' tend to sprout stakes as often as their enemies. But in this case, the Prince has perhaps been a bit more forceful than was necessarily wise. He has threatened their Regent with exile, should she fail to illuminate our foes for us. You can assume that they will be diligent in that endeavor, and likely grateful for the assistance that old favors have been able to buy them. He looks to you meaningfully, one brow arched higher than the other. A LOT of old favors, he confirms. Including the one I procured for you from Clare, should you need her aid. She has acquiesced to a meeting two nights from now, if you should need it. Don't ask what it took, it grieves me to think about it, but.. As I said before. If you are able to get any traction on this thing, you will be procuring a lot of favor for both of us. Distantly, you can hear a phone ringing. It sounds like one of the old fashioned 'candlestick' phones, the kind used at the turn of the century. A different servant enters the room wearing, no kidding, the type of upper class servants uniform popularized in the 1700's, and symbolized by old Revolutionary war movies, complete with buttoned knickerbockers and hose. but says nothing. Caedral looks up at him, receives a nod, and Caedral abruptly stands. "I'm afraid we're going to have to call this a draw", , he apologizes. It seems I have some business to attend to. Seek me out tomorrow if you have need of me. Good luck, Jeremiah. Your sire will hear of your diligence, I assure you. With that, he executes a precise 'about-face' maneuver, and strides confidently from the room, to be followed by his servant, leaving you alone in the parlor.


OOC- No update for you yet, you seem to still be having a conversation in the Library for the moment, and haven't done/asked anything that would require an explanation.


Through your conversation, you realize that Sythica isn't so much acting as a middle-man as she is alerting you that someone is looking for you in an odd manner. The fact that they went looking for you there, instead of through your business channels, seems odd to her. Also, just as she expects you to regularly check on Maurice, and heed his prognostications, she is very susceptible to Bubo's "influence" on her.

Your query seems to pleasantly surprise Ethan. COLOR="#800080"]Hehe, naw, but thanks though. Just been studying a lot, and today was a long day. My girlfriend has been needy lately, too, [/COLOR] he confides with a wicked smile. Italian girls, y'know? Drew has been having me spend every night at her place lately, and I'm just runnin' on empty, I guess.

Make an Intelligence+Academics roll, Diff 7, to recognize something else.

**Edit** Lexus (and Jason), sorry, had been working on my post for a couple of hours between other stuff at work. Just saw your posts. Will edit in a post for Lexus

[Survy]

James thinks for a moment, peering towards the window. Glancing back over his shoulder towards Angela, he says, "So you need me to set something up over there? I need to go out for a look anyways it seems like."

Taking Fip over to the window, he pours a little seed onto the windowsill, and keeps the rest in a fist. Beginning chirping again, James tells the little bird, "When I point towards where the smell-like-me is, peck my wing. More seed then." James then starts at the right, and begins slowly moving other his hand left, looking for Fip's reaction to the houses.

[roll0]

[Vetril]

Gary nods and smiles at Ethan, accepting his explanation and, for good measure, giving him a thumbs up of encouragement.
As he watches the young man leave, his attention returns to the mobile phone.

"Sythica? Still there? Sorry. But hey, thanks for the warning. I'll make sure to keep my eyes open. I owe you one."

The painter taps his lips with a finger, as he considers the news.

"Can you describe that woman to me? I feel like fishing the net for some additional information, if you get what I mean. Who knows, might be that someone's familiar with her."

Gary listens to what his sire has to say about the visitor.
In case Sythica has nothing else to add, he wraps up the conversation, thanks her again and ends the call.
The first thing the cainite does is to google the name Drusilla using his smartphone - he ends up on Wikipedia soon enough, and starts browsing through the list of real and fictional people going by that name. He frowns.

A character from the tv show Buffy: The Vampire Slayer? You've got to be kidding me! I was sure one of those scantly clad ladies from Coppola's Dracula was named Drusilla! Not some girl from that distasteful show!

As he puts the phone back in his pocket, he walks to his office; Once everyone will be gone, Gary will have enough privacy and comfort to query the cobweb. If he is lucky, some of his bloodline has shared knowledge about this TV character wannabe. If he is really lucky, he'll be able to retrieve the information in a relatively safe way.

Intelligence + Academics, Diff 7: [roll0], [roll1], [roll2], [roll3], [roll4], [roll5].

Let me know if I should roll something to successfully retrieve possible information from the MMN.

[Torgarn]

Marco paces for a moment, slightly annoyed at Violets attitude. He waits for her to leave before retrieving two pictures and texts Bryan, If you can hold out for just a bit, I'll be there as soon as possible, I can watch the bar for tonight.. He then sends a text to the number Genevieve provided him he includes the address of his bar and a message My name is Marco, I have been instructed that you are to work with me on our task. I'll be at this location for a while, if you wan't to meet up, it would be appreciated. If that is for some reason not desirable, I shall meet you at some point later this night in the Chantry.

[Danteric]

Getting up from his seat, Jeremiah reaches for his coat and begins heading towards the door. He wondered what had demanded Caedrals attention all of a sudden, but he probably had his reasons. Once outside, Jeremiah gets into his car, and begins to drive back to his haven, which was only a few blocks away, but the traffic made it seems like it was much longer. Upon finally reaching his house, Jeremiah parks his car in the garage, and enters his haven. It was nothing fancy, a small inconspicuous house, designed so it would not draw attention. The windows were covered by a special curtain that could block the suns lethal rays, while his resting room had no windows at all.

Decorated with books and objects of the occult, furniture and other miscellaneous objects such as a computer and a TV, it was a quaint haven. Locking the door behind him once inside, Jeremiah takes off his coat and heads to his room, opening a closet inside. Inside the closet was a few different sets of outfits, with a box underneath. Pulling out the box, Jeremiah opens it to reveal a number of knives and daggers, and two stakes. Closing the box again, he sets it off to the side, and begins to prepare for the operation Caedral has sent him on. If Caedral wanted the Sabbat observer dead, he would need weapons, that was without a doubt.

Heading back out to the living room, Jeremiah sat at his computer, and turned on his stock programs, and worked away the night on trying to earn some more cash.

[pife]

""Sree". The voice on the other end of the line is chipper, even perky. It sounds almost like she is speaking quickly, saying "it's Ree", but you know better. This Lexus? Hey, girl, 'chu doin'? As usual, Sree-naj-bok is extremely casual in her speech. It's difficult to believe that she is one of the most tenacious and feared hunters in Boston, and equally difficult to picture her as an unholy terror, but you've seen her in action.You've also seen her feed, and you can definitely say that she's a.. messy eater. A Cainite of many contradictions, in her free time, chances are that she's sitting in the back room of the morgue, watching reruns on TVLand. You callin' about the scavenger hunt, cuz we've got us some scavengers to find? In your next post, make sure to let me know if there is anything else you intend to do tonight, other than your conversation with Sree. I will be taking us to 'tomorrow' night shortly.



As you sit in the Reading Room discussing both Marco's and your plans, , you both hear a low, insistent mechanical buzzing. Kara's cellphone is vibrating.
Sorry for the short post, but you guys have just been talking with each other and haven't taken any actions as yet. Feel free to keep discussing, and let me know if there is anything else you intend to do before dawn.




After checking on your weapons, you settle down at your workstation to 'play' the market a bit. You are looking at the different financial 'moves' that are being made lately, and sometimes, the patterns are not unlike the chess game you were sharing with Caedral before it was interrupted. Move, and countermove, attack, defend, repositioning.. It's no coincidence stock brokers consider their business a battlefield. And then sometimes.. the patterns show something that doesn't make any sense.
Make a Wits+Finance roll, with a threshold of 3 successes. Let me know if there is anything else you plan to do before dawn.



Your text sent, you make your way to the bar, and relieve a very annoyed Bryan. He is grumbling as he runs out the door, pulling his coat on as he shoulders the door open. It's a fairly quiet night, only about a dozen patrons slowly nursing their drinks. Inevitably though, a young woman dressed slightly garishly, hair and makeup overdone and wearing revealing clothing drags a quiet, nervous man over to you. "Ohmigawd, you're that Marco guy from the TV", she gushes, loudly smacking the gum she is chewing on every few words. Her heavy New York accent is almost comical, and you think.. You think that she's a working girl. Do something magic, he don't know who you are. I told him that you're amazing, and like, I seen the time that you floated that table in front of the other two magic-guys, the fat one and the quiet one, remember?!" Built cute, and with a fantastic body, you can see under the layer of makeup that this girl had or has a problem with acne, but the shy man in a rumpled sports coat and thinning hair can't take his eyes off of her. It must be lust, you decide, because the girl is loud, brash, obnoxious and.. stupid. She continues to pester, asking you to show anything, a card trick, or to make something un-appear. (her word).

Make a Perception+Alertness roll, Diff 8





Sythica thinks for a moment, then begins.. Well, she's white, pretty, redheaded with freckles on her face. She's tall, dresses real nice. Oh, she adds, almost as an afterthought. The critters, they don't like her, and her aura.. it's dark and shifting. She's not doing this for herself, she is acting for another. Bubo told me. You ask several more questions, and Sythica answers them as best she can. Then, in the background, you hear dogs barking, a lot of dogs, frantically yelping and growling. Something has the pooches riled, Gary, Sythica explains apologetically. I'll have to talk to you later

Your search for Drusilla does have one other noticeable hit. It's not a perfect match, but.. given the circumstances, it's got potential. Drizella, sister of Anastasia, and.. step-sister of Cinderella.

By the way, there is nothing but the common garble on the MMN at the moment. Nothing useful . Let me know what your plans are for the rest of the evening, I will be taking us to 'tomorrow' night shortly.


No, I can handle it, Angela is fairly independent, likes doing things for herself, you've found. Yes, she's living in terror and has you keeping her hidden, but she's got spunk. She continues working on her cords and wires, expertly cutting and splicing before creeping cautiously out the back door and sneaking toward the neighbors house.

Fip, on the other hand, shivers in anticipation of more seed! No. He fluffs his wings, taking off and landing, taking off and landing. Outside. Outside of your nest, to a nest where many smell-not-like-you go, but no more. Empty Nest. Broken Nest. We fly? I take you? Not far! Fip flies up and out of a small hole in the window, and hovers there, Come! You follow Fip outside, and trot along the cracked sidewalks. He takes you several blocks, all told, the trip more complicated because he is used to flying in straight lines, and you have to go around houses. Eventually, you catch up to him. He is perched on the roof of a derelict car, in the parking lot of a burned out convenience store. "*** N Go", the badly damaged sign reads. In there! Fip is hopping up and down, head bobbing. Smell like you, sleeping, leaked. In there.

[miinstrel]

I'll be heading out and gathering up my followers that are available for a sermon tonight once finished with Kara and Marco. The theme will be "Recognizing Opportunities" and will touch on staying vigilant for god's call and bettering your chances at salvation by bringing in his lost flock. Scripture references will of course include the shepherd and his lost sheep.

Afterwards I'll ask everyone to be watchful for suspicious characters in the neighborhoods holding the Chantry and Elysium (without mentioning those specific buildings) telling them I've heard rumors that some dangerous folk are about and to be careful when out at night. If they see anything unusual please alert me and I'll coordinate with the proper authorities.

I'm guessing... Charisma+Expression? [roll0]
or maybe Charisma+Leadership: [roll1]

EDIT: Maybe enough successes in a very extended action for my sermons could increase my Herd / Contacts of low-income and street dwelling citizens?

[Danteric]

Jeremiah notices the small differences in the financial reports that he receives, and performs a quick investigation on it.

http://sheetgen.dalines.net/wiki/WikiDiceRoller?hash=24f06fe4
3 successes, and he wont be doing much else tonight, just making more money.

Also, would it be possible to have reinforced clothes? The +1 armor.

[Torgarn]

Marco grabs a cheap bottle of alcohol off of the back of the bar. His vanity has overcome his disdain for the woman. He unscrews the lid and pours a shot. "Would one of you drink that for me?" he says holding the shot glass out.

Alertness [roll0] [roll1] [roll2] [roll3]
Perception [roll4] [roll5] [roll6] [roll7]

[Survy]

James looks uneasily at the Convenience Store, then pours out the seed onto the hood of the car. Looking up at Fip, he says "Eat seed, then go back to home-nest."

James then carefully approaches the convenience store, entering as silently as possible and looking around.


Stealth+Dexerity: [roll0]

Alertness+Perception (just in case you need it): [roll1]
Still have Eyes of the Beast going also.

[Vetril]

After a few minutes, Gary gives up: tonight it's unlikely that he'll be able to decypher the garbled mess coming from the cobweb.
Slightly irritated, he takes one final walk through the gallery, before leaving. He eyes the clock, wondering if he can find someone knowledgeable at the Elysium. Well, I guess a beautiful and fashionable redhead would draw attention - expecially with that dark aura. Let's see if she's introduced herself, as the traditions demand.
Gary looks out of the glass door, towards the street lights. Unless she's not a vampire. But in that case, how would she know about Sythica?
Having chosen his destination, the painter reaches his car and starts driving.
As he waits for the traffic light to become green, he grabs his agenda and scribbles down something: buy Cinderella tickets.
Gary's organizer looks traditional: a thin bound book, covered by soft brown leather. He could use his phone to track notes and appointments, but he likes the physical sensation of writing. The pages are also great for when he needs to quickly sketch an idea, and no other support is at hand.
Might as well. I bet it will be a unique experience - at least for me. He stifles a sour laugh.

[pife]

Updating from work, will be editing in one person at a time between meetings/other tasks, so check back to this post for your update as the day progresses.


Kara hasn't responded to the text message yet, so you know her phone vibrated, but no more. We will assume that the two of you talk for a bit (any reasonable conversation can be considered retconned, if it comes shortly). You and Kara go your separate ways in the Chantry shortly thereafter..


1. Owen Tavisty- Owner of the Warren Tavern. (Oldest tavern in Massachusetts, popular with George Washington, Paul Revere and Benjamin Franklin, still open to this day. A secret basement holds a hidden tunnel that leads down through the floor, and under Main Street, exiting in the basement/boiler room in what was a tenement on the corner of Union and Main. Warren Tavern is on the corner of Main and Pleasant. Would have a Google Street View pic of it, but the images weren't working). Owen is the most successful of your Herd, comfortably middle class, wildly patriotic (if a little bit dim and ignorant). He has offered the hidden basement as your 'temple'. It has three rooms, the largest, 20x20 is where you will meet. There is also a small 5x10 storage area, and a tiny 7x7 office behind the main room. I would like you to describe what you have done with it, if anything. Unless you modify it, it is ragged, stained, mildewed, with some broken and near-broken furniture, and a few ancient and damaged paintings and flags (one of them an actual regimental flag from the Revolutionary War). Owen has a special lantern that he lights and places in the window when you want to have a sermon.

2. Doreen- Only goes by one name, she is in her late 50's. Heavyset but sharp and pleasant, Doreen is homeless by choice. She stays very clean, and sells hand crafted knickknacks on the street by day.

3. Terrence O'Neil- Terrence is a bartender working for Owen (and his distant cousin). He was a police officer for 10 years, but was unceremoniously dumped by the force when it was discovered he was skimming cash and drugs from street punks in exchange for looking the other way).

4. Anisha White- A 20-something black woman, her two children each died of a childhood disease years apart. A battered woman, her husband beats her for the smallest infractions, and she is currently covering up a drug addiction by turning tricks while her husband works (he works at a factory across town, night shift). She's timid and nervous, and is almost 'defeated' by life.

5. L'Quay Winfrey- A career petty criminal, L'Quay is none too bright. He is grossly overweight, black, and has heavy scarring and tattoos on his face. But he very much believes in YOUR version of God.

6. Steve Fulwider- Mid 50's, Steve is an oily con artist. Very short rap-sheet, because he's actually pretty good at what he does. He's not sure if you're 'the real thing' or if you just have the best con in the world, but either way, he's in!

7. Kimberly Mau- Kim is an attractive 19 year old girl, short brunette hair, slender, doesn't have a clue how to dress or present herself. She works for minimum wage at one of the tourist shops a few blocks away. She's very impressionable, and has a 2 year old son that she leaves with her mother when she comes to work (or sermons).


It was a good night! Even with the short notice you gave to Owen, you had everyone attend tonight. Owen is always generous with the "sacramental wine" and most of your flock are good and juicy by the time you are finished. Your speech grabs them and holds them rapt, and heads bob in near-unison as you discuss the evils of letting opportunity pass by. There are a few who seem to take your message deeply to heart, namely Terrence, Anisha, and Steve. Each of them seems to be personally moved by your message.

Your call to bring in the lost starts a spirited and excited debate. They all relish the idea of opening up their fellowship to other souls, desperate for solace. You have to suggest caution to them, else they might start dragging everyone they know through the door, but Owen takes the lead and suggests that they all think long and hard about who is 'ready' to receive the message, and not to bring anyone to the fold who will poison and dilute your divine message. Anisha's eyes especially are aglow with fervent joy, which is a far cry from the haunted and paranoid fear which so often dwells within them.

When you remind them of the evils that lurk around every corner, some of them look around, eyes wide with perceived horror. You suggest that they keep a wary eye on both the Back Bay (Elysium) and Mission Hill (Chantry) neighborhoods, they are again entranced by your words. To a person, they agree that they will each spend a portion of their day or night wandering those areas, watching for suspicious activity, even Kimberly and L'Quay, who would need to walk there or ride a bus. When both the sermon and your exhortation has finished, they speak quietly among themselves. Some of them long for the Sacrament, while others hope that you will finally agree to take their Confessions. All in all, for two hours of your time, you feel you have provided quite a 'service' to your tiny congregation.




The biomed industry is always volatile, and inside players often know which companies are going to be announcing a new pharmaceutical, procedure or equipment. Your tireless perusal of financial data has enabled you to notice patterns in the past, and tonight is no different! It would be easy to overlook, even by trained professionals, but you spot an astounding amount of interest and investment in a new company named Lumina Soarelui. This, by itself, would not be worth mentioning, but it is the method that interests you. Over years of experience, you have developed an impressive memory for companies, both legit and shady. Accounts from companies that you know to be overseas tax shelters or dummy corporations are being closed, and, via a convoluted web of transactions, are being plopped directly into LS' accounts. Well, not directly. The money is falling into other shell companies and then being routed into LS' coffers. Literally millions of dollars are being shunted into these accounts, but none of the big investment houses are involved. At. All. It's almost as though they are blind to the significance. Another interesting detail.. Lumina Soarelui is a relative unknown in the biomed industry, with not a single article or prospectus available that you can find. You have no idea at this point what they make, who runs it, or how the word is getting out. And none of the money is coming from local investors. So, not only are the big investment companies not involved, none of the local Boston investors are either.

You stare at the data until about three in the morning, when you receive a phone call. It's Caedral. "Are you there?", Caedrals deep voice inquires."Good. Listen to me, I have news. One of my ghouls was just found, dead, ritually disemboweled. He doesn't pause before he continues, his voice and tone neutral and unexcited, but that's normal for Caedral. After standing tall in the face of Redcoat advances, musketballs flying past his head, he's difficult to shake. He was found in the food court in Franklin Park, at the zoo. Timothy had no reason to be there tonight. The police are all over it. You know that Timothy was something of a general 'dogsbody' for Caedral, the errand boy that he would send on various missions both great and small. You also knew Timothy to be very cautious, very talented, and extremely loyal. You're going to have to watch yourself, he concludes. And they had better hope that someone other than me is the one to find them. Watch your back Jeremiah, there is a leak somewhere in Boston, I'm sure of it.

The luridly painted face of the woman lights up, and she reaches eagerly for the glass, tipping it up and downing it without a flicker of hesitation. Ooooh, she moans in pleasure, wriggling in place and paying rapt attention to you. Tingly! As you turned to retrieve the bottle, and again when you turn to replace it, you notice in the mirror backing the bar that someone else is paying attention to you. He's a bigger man, sitting at a table by himself with a full bottle of beer in front of him. There is a mirror framed by chrome on the wall, and he is using it to look at you. It was only by chance that you were able to notice. He is wearing a Pittsburgh Steelers Jersey, jeans, and roughly worn work boots. His jowls sag slightly, but there is nothing lax about his attention. You can tell that he's not just watching your trick. He is watching YOU.

'Tink'. 'Tink'. The sound of Fip's little beak tapping the hood of the car is the only sound present. There is no traffic, no wind, just the contented chirps of a sparrow as he gobbles down top-shelf birdseed. The front door seems to be locked securely, and heavy plywood is bolted securely to all of the windowframes. Attempting to avoid notice, you quietly step around the back side of the building and see that the delivery door has been opened forcibly, as it is hanging askew on one hinge, the other torn beyond repair. This was certainly not the work of typical thugs, as they would have used a prybar to pull the door open, if they bothered at all. This was done by main force. You also notice several drops of dark liquid on the cracked sidewalk directly outside the door. They are still wet, and you can smell the coppery odor of fresh blood. Stepping into the darkened hallway inside the door, you note more drops of blood scattered among the dirt and detritus that litters the warped linoleum. You creep through several rooms, including a small office stripped of anything interesting, and a dry-storage where crates, boxes, pallets and other cast off merchandise rests, apparently undisturbed by anything other than the rats which have gotten to it. Back in the hallway along the wall, just before the swinging doors that lead to the 'store' proper, there is an old timeclock, a rack of timecards on thick cardstock, and, a small rat, tail pinned to the wall by a bloody stake made of some hardwood. As your foot brushes a piece of paper on the floor, (the Department of Labor Fair Labor Standard Act poster that would normally rest next to the timeclock ), the rat flinches, squeaks, and scrabbles weakly at the wall, attempting to escape. The smell of blood is beginning to grow much stronger now.

Make a Self Control roll, Diff 3. You aren't hungry, but the scent and sight of blood has cause the Beast inside you to rumble. If you succeed, continue on to the next section. If you fail, you can make a Willpower roll to regain control of yourself. If you botch.. Get with me.

Once you have overcome the Beasts yearnings, you push on one of the swinging doors. It opens with a tinny (not tiny) squeak, and you have entered the completely darkened storefront. Old wooden racks (this place is old) line the center of the floorspace, and only trash and junk litter them at the moment. There are holes and gaps in the drop-ceiling that look like they have been chewed by rats. Empty coolers and freezers line two walls, boarded up windows a third. Along the fourth wall, atop the service counter is a cash register liberally covered in more blood, as is the counter itself. Creeping behind the counter, you can see what Fip was talking about. There, lying supine on the floor, is the body of a tall man, dressed in (now bloody, ripped and ruined) business casual attire, an open wallet sitting in a pool of blood next to him. A red-stained, sticky hatchet and several more stakes lie discarded there as well. The mans corpse is covered with nearly a dozen rats, and they hiss at you as you approach, beady eyes wide. It is difficult at this point to identify all of the wounds, and impossible to determine in what order they came, but this man bled extensively. Even from 8 feet away, your shoe comes away with the soft whisper of a sticky liquid beneath them.

[BananaPhone]

In truth, Lex didn't know what to make of the sherrif and her...casual demeanor. Her relaxed, practically informal mannerisms had always put the Ventrue off, as outside of the company of her syndicate she rarely allowed herself to slip in her decor lest she unwittingly betray anything that could be used against her by the harpies of the city.

"You know how it is," Lexus answered, her voice patient and thoughtful, "same ****, different night."

Then the sheriff spoke about hunting scavengers...hmm, they must be rather valuable "scavengers" if they were receiving such lethal attention.

"Local gang-bangers have you riled up?" Lex poked.

[miinstrel]

Entering the largest of the rooms the first thing you notice is a lack of windows and a lack of electricity. The room is lit with oil lamps hanging from hooks in the sagging ceiling. Several shadowy duplicates spread across the wall behind Jason giving the appearance that he is the only thing standing between the flock and a flickering pack of demons waiting to feast on their wretched souls. The lamplight makes his 'fire and brimstone' approach all the more powerful.

Owen, Terrence, Doreen, and Steve, the remaining patrons of Jason's original flock, spent a weekend with him to fix this room up when the church was founded. Jason spent his time with Doreen decorating the walls and cleaning out the back rooms while the other three did the woodwork. The chances of a splinter piercing his chest were laughable, but that latent fear remained all the same. While not masterpieces, the seats are reasonably comfortable for the first hour and decorated with beadwork and religious motifs painted by Doreen, a contribution of which she's quite proud. There are enough seats for twelve at present, the five nearest the back of the room typically remaining empty.

The paintings have been arranged along the side walls in an order that, in his mind, roughly details Jason's journey in an absurd parody of the Stations of the Cross. A ballroom filled with dancing couples. A renaissance portrait of a man holding a fainted, nearly naked woman. An empty sitting room. A mother with a child sitting on the floor at her feet playing with blocks. And finally, the classic painting of George Washington crossing the Delaware. Across the back wall behind the "altar," a rickety table with a red and white checkered tablecloth thrown over it, the flag from the Revolutionary War hung in stark contrast to the peaceful homilies. The other flags are tied to makeshift poles and stand in the corners of the room.

The store room holds nothing of interest save the sacramental wine. The smaller office, however, has been converted to Jason's vestibule for pre-ceremony preparations. A stained, slightly mildewed paisley love seat sits in the corner for the more intimate segment of the service, usually with just one of his flock that seemed particularly inspired by the night's events. More than one of the stains are the deep red of dried blood.

Jason felt particularly proud of tonight's sermon. Everything went perfectly, all the right moments punctuated with passionate amens, hallelujahs, and applause. He hadn't planned on selecting a vessel to feed on tonight, but the sermon put him in good spirits and he conceded to their silent yearning. He would choose one for the Sacrament but not confessions just yet. Tonight's sermon was not about forgiveness, though if things didn't go well with this hunt for the Prince's childe that topic may come up soon.

Anisha had seemed particularly moved, a welcome change from her usual timid attendance. He hadn't fed from her for a couple weeks because her veins puckered with wounds around the holidays, the gift of escape likely the only one she received for Christmas. He could still smell the amphetamines beneath her skin. Jason knelt down beside her and spoke softly, "Anisha, my dear, I know it seems a blessing when that needle bites your skin, but God wants you and just you. Only when you're mind is clear can you truly receive His gifts. Promise me you'll work toward that? I don't ask for perfection, just that you try." He stands and walks past her, holding her hand until his slips away.

Terrence was one of his favorites as he always had just enough alcohol in his system to feel it but not enough to make Jason lose his faculties. He was chosen at the last sermon, so Jason couldn't take him again so soon. He had to spread the love around to keep them from becoming jealous and to increase their longing, both good things for his little community. That left him with Steve. His diet was far too high in iron, but he makes a good meal all the same. Jason placed his hand on Steve's shoulder, the silent indicator that he had been chosen, and then walked back to the vestibule and waited on the love seat. Steve entered, the others' eyes following until the door closed behind him. Just as the first heathens, a lamb's blood is spilled to appease the gods. Things haven't changed a bit.

It will be a short feeding. I'll only take 1 blood point from him, just enough to keep me at full.

[Survy]

James shudders at the sweet scent of the blood, and feels that familiar hunger and rage. Only a small amount of blood, but for a moment, he feels himself slip away under blanket of red mist. Suddenly wrenching his head back, he must resist the urge to smack himself. Almost losing control over a few drops of old blood? Pathetic. John would tear out my guts for that.

Entering the room, James notes the scattered stakes and thoroughly bloodied hatchet. He thinks back on Fip's chirps for a moment. Ugh. Someone hunting down Kindred? Or alot of someones it seems like. I might need another bird. Or a new damn house.

Picking up the wallet, James begins to peruse it, looking for ID and any cash while he's at it. As he does so, he glances down at the rats for a moment, thinking. Little bastards were always all over the damn barn. Least Marcy is keeping them out of the house. James shakes his head for a moment at the though, attempting to scatter the recollections. Nothing good ever came of thinking back to the ranch.

Lowering his sunglasses, he glares at one of the rats with glowing red eyes. He feels the Beast still close from his bout of hunger, feeling it darken his mood further. A small volume of harsh squeaks spew forth from Jame's mouth. "Little, tasty thing. More big things here? Answer me small scurrier."

Animal Ken + Manipulation: [roll0]

[Danteric]

"I understand, Thanks Caedral. If I find out who it is, i'll bring them to you staked for you to have a pleasant conversation with them.". After hanging up the phone, Jeremiah saves the information he found out about the Lumina Soarelui, and continues to play with the stock market, keeping an eye on the time. Someone leaking information? The only ones I could think of leaking such information would be the Nosferatu...

After the night comes to an end, Jeremiah heads to his room, prepares for the next night, then goes to bed.

Sorry for the short post, couldnt think of much to do, on to the next night!

[Torgarn]

Marco juggles the bottle for a few moments, then pours another shot, keeping his watcher in the corner of his eye the whole time. He pours another shot and hands it over, What do you taste now? he says winking at the woman and grinning slyly.

Using Blood to Water on the alcohol in the bottle. Willpower [roll0][roll1][roll2][roll3][roll4]

[pife]

Ha! Wish it was. You think I'd be needin' ta call in favors to take care of some Mara Salvatrucha thugs, or Franklin Street Boyz? Sheeeit, most of those punks are on my payroll, sister! Naw, this is somethin' else, man, somethin' spooky, and I keep comin' up empty on it. I'ma need you to dig into this thing. There's some Warlocks what done made a promise to the big man. sez they can figger this stuff out in a week or less. Sree cackles, then adds, Oooh, Miss Fingerwiggler in some deep ca-ca if she don't produce. She pauses, and then her voice becomes more serious, business-like. But the big man ain't playin', Lex. There's been lots of attacks, and they're speedin' up. We've kept the lid on most of it, it's just been ghouls and servants and such. But they're startin' to take out our kind too, and some of the best assets we got. You willing to earn some juice?

In this context, 'juice' is favors owed to you by people further up the totem pole if you succeed.




Elysium- Nestled in the quaint and historical Beacon Hill district of Boston, the primary 'safe-zone' as dictated by the Prince is "The Sabre, an exclusive members-only club on the South Slope. Formerly the mansion home of the Governor of Massachusetts in the 1880's, it has been repurposed into an enclave of safe-conduct. As part of the Prince's Praxis, in this location, no violence may be done, and any who are brought here must be 'in the know', as this is one of the few locations in the city where one may feel safe from the restrictions of the Masquerade. The only Mortals that ever pass through the doors are either trusted operatives of Boston Kindred, or the intensely screened "Blood Dolls" who are paid handsomely for their discretion.. and their blood. It is considered bad form of the highest degree to drain one, as safe and reliable 'feeders' are hard to come by.

The Scourge of the Prince is charged with maintaining Elysium, and is usually in attendance unless he is off on the Prince's business. He has a small army of beefy ghouls scattered throughout the building, heavily armed and famed for their discretion. They are rumored to be fanatically loyal and preternaturally observant. No one is ever known to enter or leave without their knowledge and permission.

Driving through the massive wrought-iron gates, you roll up an expansive cobblestone drive past immaculately manicured lawns and hedges. Four tuxedoed attendants wait between the large marble columns near the door. They spring into action as you approach, two approaching the driver's side door, one of them opening it for you and greeting you formally by name. Good evening, Mr. Slade. We don't see you here often, be welcome. The tall, broad man has a military-style haircut and bearing, and a deep voice. He indicates the man standing next to him. Jeffrey will take your keys, sir, and ensure that your car is ready to leave when you are. Please keep all of the typical rules in mind, and enjoy your evening. Jefferey, nearly a carbon-copy of the first man, silently takes your keys and drives your car around the side of the building, past a gorgeous carriage-house. The other two attendants hold the huge double doors open for you, their eyes scanning you up and down, the eyes of the man on the left glowing a dull red. Just inside the doors is a small lectern, behind which a lovely and exotic Latin woman in a tasteful black dress offers you the Prince's Amnesty. No weapons of any kind are allowed inside Elysium, nor are any poisons, narcotics, recording devices, or other electronics beyond a personal cell phone. Please keep your cell phone use to a minimum, take no photos, and ensure that nothing is recorded, she reminds you with a light Spanish accent. A discreet box stands open atop the lectern to receive any banned items, which will be returned to you upon your departure. Once past her, you have to pause two more times as you pass through a 'sniffer' which is reputed to detect explosives, and a traditional metal detector.

Finally, you are in an open ballroom, with highly polished hardwood floors and walls immaculately decorated with tasteful elegance. A wide double stairway leads up to several meeting rooms and private venues. From experience, you know that the main area is through a large archway below and between the staircases. As you pass through it, you begin to hear the strains of classical music. After a short switchback hallway, you enter the subdued lighting and glamorous ambiance of Elysium proper. Two more hulking men flank the doors, pistols clearly evident beneath their tuxedo jackets. They regard you impassively, and maintain their vigilant watch. Before you is a spacious room, the centerpiece of which is a dance floor of black marble, upon which a team of four stunning performers in revealing white outfits gracefully whirl and pose in time with the music. Plush chairs are grouped around small antique tables surrounding the dance floor, and wide, comfortable booths are set into the walls, with curtains available for drawing if privacy is desired. There are nearly two-dozen people spread throughout the space. Most of these are attendants, including half a dozen exquisite Blood Dolls, men and women of refined beauty wearing blood-red silk scarves around their necks to mark them out. Scanning the room though, you see nearly a dozen of your Kindred, as follows.

Thaddeus Winston, the hulking Irish Scourge of the Prince sits in a solitary plush chair in a corner, where he can regard the entire floor. An open laptop sits on the table in front of him (apparently the rules are different for him). He is flanked by two identical women, tall and lanky blondes with the sides of their head shaved. They are not particularly attractive, being rather vulpine and sharp-featured, but they move with ethereal grace on the rare occasions you have seen them move.

At one of the tables surrounding the dance floor, Marsilio Fortes is seated in an overstuffed velvet chair, speaking to Miss Vicky, who remains standing.

Aileen Lauritzen, one of Boston's premier Harpies lounges on a settee in a flowing white dress, enjoying the adoration of two Dolls. Her sharp eyes catch yours as soon as you enter, and a small smile graces her lips as she inclines her head to you in greeting before pulling one of her Dolls closer. Sitting on the other end of the settee, with barely enough room to sit is Felicity Brooking, who seems to be attempting to have a conversation with Aileen, with little success

Three Kindred are hunched over some papers at one of the booths, discussing something in low tones. John Redding seems to be presiding over the small meeting, while both Moloe Lacroix and Anne Bonney listen attentively.

At one of the tables nearest that booth sits Nwabudike Morgan, as always stiff in a formal business suit. He makes no secret of the fact that he is watching the three in the booth, displeasure apparent on his face.

One of the attendants approaches you, a short, shapely woman in a black bandage dress that displays her shapely legs and ample assets. Not one of the Blood Dolls, this is an employee of Elysium. Mr. Slade, we are pleased to receive you. Is there anything you require?



Anisha drops her eyes in embarrassment and her hand twitches in yours. I'm sorry, Papa she whimpers. I.. I just needed a tiny bump, just a little one. Business been bad. I'll try harder, Papa, promise I will. As you begin to depart, she brings your fingers to her lips and kisses them gently. I'll do better for you, Papa, her eyes filled with shame and longing as you leave her.

Steve's eyes light up as your hand comes to rest upon his shoulder, and he leaps to his feet, following you to the vestibule, looking around to make sure everyone sees that HE is the one that was chosen. He was the most resistant the first time, being somewhat homophobic, but is easily the most eager now. A low moan of pleasure escapes him as your fangs sink delicately into his skin, and he slumps back against the love seat, blissfully ignorant for the moments it takes you to feed. When you have finished, he sits up, and looks around conspiratorially. Papa, I think there's something happening. I know a guy, a cop, and he's telling me that the patrol guys are confused because people are screwing with their patrol routes.. Like, he pauses once more to look around to make sure that nobody is listening. there's entire sections of the city that don't have any coverage some nights. Is that important?





The wallet seems to be emptied of any identifying documents, but there are several hundred dollars and a hotel room key for "The Inn at Crystal Cove".

The rat scurries down the corpses leg and perches on the dead man's foot, standing on it's hind legs, nose twitching as it listens. It cringes as you finish, and a rapid-fire succession of squeaks follow your question. No. No. No!! The rat is excited. Safe now, all gone. Left BIG food, taste different, try, try!! Even as you speak, you can see that these rats are in something of a feeding frenzy. The trace amounts of vampire blood have effectively turned this entire hive of rats into ghouls, and they tear into each other from time to time with vitae-imbued rage and strength. Feel good, you try, we safe! Good good! So full, but wants more!!




You make sure to keep an eye on your watcher while you entertain the harlot and her 'friend'. Her entire head moves with her eyes as she tries to follow the bottle. When you pour the shot, she seizes it from your hands enthusiastically and tips it down her throat without hesitation. She gasps as soon as it hits her tongue, spitting some of it back out in her exhalation, but managing to keep from spraying you with her impromptu 'spit-take'. Water, she exclaims excitedly. Ohmigawd, Ted, it's water! That's so cool! Ted looks slightly skeptical, and then looks to see if you may have replaced the original bottle with another within arms reach somehow. Seeing none in reach Really? Huh, that's crazy! How'd you do that, man? His dull cow-eyes regard you with a mixture of doubt and interest. In the mirror, your watcher smiles cruelly, then stands and walks swiftly out the door.

[miinstrel]

"It could very well be, Steve. Did he say when these blackouts occurred? Tell me everything." As Steve unleashes his limited knowledge, Jason takes notes on a piece of scratch paper and sticks it in his bible for safe keeping. When he finishes, Jason asks one more question. "Who is the police friend of yours? Should I learn enough to take to them he would seem a good place to start."

When the conversation has finished, Jason smiles, tells Steve he's done well, and asks him to keep his ears open for more of the same. "Go in peace, my childe, to love and serve your Lord." He makes the sign of the cross over Steve with his right hand and dismisses him before returning to the Chantry alone.

I presume the neighborhoods that had the police routes altered correspond to the attacks on our kine and property? Jason will do some preliminary research between the two when he gets back to the Chantry.

[pife]

"It could very well be, Steve. Did he say when these blackouts occurred? Tell me everything." As Steve unleashes his limited knowledge, Jason takes notes on a piece of scratch paper and sticks it in his bible for safe keeping. When he finishes, Jason asks one more question. "Who is the police friend of yours? Should I learn enough to take to them he would seem a good place to start."

When the conversation has finished, Jason smiles, tells Steve he's done well, and asks him to keep his ears open for more of the same. "Go in peace, my childe, to love and serve your Lord." He makes the sign of the cross over Steve with his right hand and dismisses him before returning to the Chantry alone.

I presume the neighborhoods that had the police routes altered correspond to the attacks on our kine and property? Jason will do some preliminary research between the two when he gets back to the Chantry.



Steve eagerly tells all that he knows, though honestly, it's not very much. His cop friend, Eric Farble, only gave him two examples of neighborhoods that were 'cleared out'. That is because those were the only two strange shifts that Eric was personally involved in. They were; the Dorchester neighborhood last Wednesday night, and the Roxbury neighborhood last Saturday. In both cases, assets assigned to one area were shifted to cover other areas due to 'increased threat of gang violence'. However, Officer Farble told Steve that they normally call in EXTRA squad cars whenever possible, and do not shuffle coverage out of high-crime areas.

The others have already departed by the time you emerge with Steve. Some of them may have retired upstairs to celebrate 'the Word' with fellowship, but other than the slight tremor of the walls when the jukebox is turned up, it's really fairly quiet down here. Before long, you are returning to the heavily guarded Chantry, where you attempt to play a high-stakes game of 'connect the dots' with Steve's information.

Between the limited information Steve has, and the limited amount of specifics you have on the 'when' and 'where' of the attacks, you'll need an INT+Investigation roll, Diff 7

[miinstrel]

Upon returning to the Chantry, Jason heads to the library, somewhere he can spread everything out and create a diagram. He'd put the pieces of more than one sermon together in the vaulted hall and was quite comfortable there. As he entered he couldn't help but cast his eyes upon the door through which Marcus had left he and his sister earlier that night. What could be back there that the apprentices couldn't see? The thought crossed his mind frequently, but he'd somehow resisted the urge to investigate... probably because death surely lingered there for any foolish enough to invade the privacy of the elders.

He collected a map from the Boston section of the library along with what few notes he could find and information he could recall about the recent attacks and settled down to a desk to begin piecing together this puzzle. Opening his Bible for the clues from Steve, his eyes fell upon a passage on the page. And ye shall seek me, and find me, when ye shall search for me with all your heart. Jeremiah 29:13. How appropriate. He outlined the neighborhoods Steve mentioned and then began pinning locations of attacks and marking each with the approximate date.

INT+Investigation: [roll0]

[Vetril]

Gary aknowledges the woman's presence with a simple nod.

"Hmm, no. It's all right, thank you."

He stops for a moment. The painter's hairbows go up, as he reconsiders.

"Actually. Would you mind arranging a couple of things for me? A couple of glasses of vitae, but send one to Miss Lauritzen, down there; make sure she knows it's from me. The other's for me: I'll be down there."

Gary points to one of the chairs that rest on the side of the dance floor - not isolated enough to spark interest in the more paranoid cainites of the city, but not close enough to the occupied ones that people can easily hear the conversation he hopes to have.

"Another thing" - Gary adds, before the woman walks away. Quickly, the artist opens his agenda, and writes two words on the corner of one of the pages: must talk. He then proceeds to rip off the improvised message, folding it once.

"Give her this memo, will you. Thanks."

He can't help but realize how ironic the situation is. If it depended from his wishes, he would have just walked up to Aileen's booth and ask her for a couple of minutes of her time. Instead, he has to put up a mistery show, hoping that curiosity will drive her to him. It's what is expected, and behaving differently might lead to others being suspicious.

That said, Gary walks off to the chair he has chosen, greeting anyone he meets on his way. The painter is careful not to offend anyone, the rare times he comes to the Elysium. He is not really connected to the rest of the vampiric society, and so he has to tread carefully. In his experience, awakening the ire of the most influent cainites is a sure way to see the dawn.
Finally, he sits on the chair and relaxes a little as he waits for his "drink".

[Survy]

James happily pockets the cash, feeling somewhat better about this job in the process. The key he examines closely for a moment, and decides to ask Angela later if she could look up that hotel for him.

He grimaces somewhat at the swarm of vitae-fed rats, feeling a bit disgusted. The rats would eat the poor bastard down to the bone soon enough, perhaps further with their newfound strength. Still, there wasn't much to be done for him at this point. The rats could even be potentially useful. And...blood was blood.

Grabbing a limp wrist, James emits an audible sigh as he bites into the kindred's wrist, drinking from what remains of the damned man. Vitae fills his mouth and pours down his throat, and though James had eaten just the night before, it is still a great relief after walking through this bloodbath of a shop.

Sitting still for a moment, James turns back to the rat, and speaking in harsh squeaks says "Eat then. May return." Replacing his sunglasses to cover his eyes, James stands and leaves, heading back towards the house as morning approaches.

Just a quick bite, enough for 1 blood point. Figure he'll hit the Final Death now anyways.

And another Animal Ken + Manipulation, don't know if I even need it for that though. They might expect me at least. [roll0]

[pife]

I'm assuming that you're good to go until the next night? Trying to finish everyone's actions from tonight before rolling the day over.

The attendant takes the note from your hand with a nod. Of course, sir, she answers smoothly. Please forgive me if I'm impertinent sir, but are you wishing for me to have a glass brought to you, or a vessel? Preserved vitae is quite precious these days, since our most prolific.. she pauses for a moment, searching for the word, bottler.. has gone missing. We've been forced to begin charging for any of the rarer, ah, vintages, and our more common complimentary stock has been depleted. The least expensive is four hundred dollars per glass, I'm afraid. She scans your face for an indication of displeasure before she continues. However, we have a fine selection of vessels for you to choose from, if you prefer. I have two in particular that I can recommend if none of those on display entice your palette. Reginald is a vegan with superlative breeding. I'm told that he has an abnormally 'clean' flavor. And our most frequently requested vessel is Euadne, from the Greek Isles. Her diet is less pristine than Reginalds, but she is said to have the most exquisite flavor. She's very accommodating, sir. Of course, we're more than happy to provide your original request if you prefer. I'll give you a moment to consider your selections while I deliver your missive.

She turns and approaches the settee, stopping about eight feet from it, and waiting patiently. Aileen, her gauzy white dress draped provocatively across her slender form, allowed the servant to wait for several minutes as she enjoyed the fawning attentions of a strongly built male Blood Doll. When she finally sat up, shooing the boy away, she spent another two minutes patting her hair into place, and sharing a few quiet words with Felicity, who frowns prettily, her brow furrowing. Aileen stands and glides gracefully toward you, her breezy dress flowing as though it were alive. Walking directly to you, she stands immediately in front of you and, before you have an opportunity to stand, she reaches down with both of her hands to sweep up your left. Half-kneeling in front of you, she presses the back of your hand to her cheek. Her skin is warm, hot even, and her eyes glitter as she smiles at you with a wide, inviting grin. She has honey-colored curly locks that flow halfway down her back, and they sway almost hypnotically in front of you. Undoubtedly, she is one of the most attractive women you have ever seen.

"Gary Slade, is that you?", she gushes. Her voice is sultry and evokes the Golden Age of Hollywood. This woman could put Audrey Hepburn or Elizabeth Taylor to pasture. I have two of your masterpieces hanging in my parlor even now! Imagine my surprise to receive this adorable little note from you. She turns her head slightly to the side and her grin grows more wicked. Give us a kiss, dear, it will drive Felicity absolutely mad! Her giggle is innocuous and girl-like. Say there is something I can do for you, darling. I'm positively a-quiver with curiosity. It is at this time that you notice the serving girl has returned, and she has company. Mr. Slade, she begins cautiously. She is specifically not looking at Aileen, nor directly at you, instead gazing politely off to the side slightly. I took the liberty of bringing Reginald, she gestures to her right, where stands a tall, lean man of dusky hue with the physique of an athlete. And Euadne, she finishes, gesturing to a voluptuous and attractive woman in her thirties to her left who is carrying a silver tray laden with a silver chalice and a slightly dusty bottle of deep green glass. "Have you made a selection, or shall we return at a later time?", she asks politely.

As you consider both situations (Aileen and .. dinner..), your gaze happens to cross past the dancers in the background. The two male dancers look as though they have no eyes, with just flat expanses of skin where the sockets would be, and the female dancers, lithe and tiny, each seem to have two right hands, and no lefts. They have left arms, but right hand's at the end of them.. The image holds for just a moment before returning to a more 'normal' viewing experience.


As it turns out, both attacks happen to have targeted Brujah servants. One, a ghoul, was a favored functionary of the Primogen Caedral Lorme. He disappeared without a trace, but the police report states that a 911 call was placed from his phone in one of the rougher parts of Roxbury, and the phone was located, still 'on', atop the roof of the 'Blue Store', with three bloody feathers sticking to it.

The Dorchester attack corresponded with a known Brujah instigator, a 'community activist' by the name of Harlan Cheese. Harlan was one of the rarest of the rare.. A violent, gay, black, Republican. He spent as much time in jail as out of it, but received succor from both the black, gay, and gang communities. (Respectable Republicans shunned him like the plague). At one point, Harlan had set fire to a Welfare Office, with the staff inside at a Christmas party. The doors were found barricaded, and 38 people died. Harlan died on Blue Hill Avenue, the victim of what appears to be a gang attack. He was found riddled with bullets, and severed rat tails had been inserted into each bullet wound.

No arrests were made in either case. You are able to discover that the Prince exerted quite a bit of personal effort to find the perpetrators, to no avail.

As you finish your research, an errant breeze from the heater flips several pages of your Bible, which lies open upon the table. The verse that you see when you move to close it.. JEREMIAH 30:12-15.. "This is what the Lord says: Your wound is incurable, your injury beyond healing. There is no one to plead your cause, no remedy for your usore, no healing for you. All your allies have forgotten you; they care nothing for you. I have struck you as an enemy would and punished you as would the cruel, because your guilt is so great and your sins so many. Why do you cry out over your wound, your pain that has no cure? Because of your great guilt and many sins I have done these things to you.

[miinstrel]

Jason stares blankly at the page for a moment, rage welling inside him. His arms begin to shake. A primitive roar reverberates through the silence as he flings everything gathered on the table against the wall. The great names of history watch from the spines of their books, judging his weakness and impurity. His chest rising and falling with each forced breath and blood dripping from his fists as sinful nails tear fresh stigmata into his palms, he slowly collects himself and straightens his collar leaving it smeared red as though someone had slit his throat.

He'd learned all he would for the night anyway. It was a breach of etiquette, but the mess on the floor could wait until tomorrow. Each slow footstep sounds as he begins to walk away but he pauses. Returning to his mess, he picks up the Bible and closes it reverently, leaving the rest behind. His thumbs flip the gilded pages as he walks silently to his chambers.

...

He sleeps fitfully the next day, haunted by the words brought to him by that warm current from heaven above.

[Survy]

Yeah i'm good.

[Vetril]

Gary tries not to betray the shiver that runs down his spine as he notices the anomalies in the dancers. He masks his uncertainty by deliberated shifting his attention towards Aileen. Focusing on the woman, he gives her a kiss on the cheek she presented; nothing too personal: God knows the last thing he wants is to get staked by a jealous lover wannabe. He readjusts his position on the chair to be more comfortable, and then makes a gesture towards the assistant before offering a polite answer.
"Nothing for me, thank you very much. I'm not in the mood, even though your offerings look perfectly fine. I don't know if Miss Lauritzen would like anything?" - he looks at the human as he asks what is practically a question addressed at the Harpy. Gary hopes she doesn't choose to accept the offer: he has a few questions to ask, and he can't wait to hear the answers.
Once the matter of feeding has been taken care of, he gestures towards the other chairs located around the exquisite table.
"Please, have a seat. I'd like to discuss new arrivals among the cainites, and it might take a while. Furthermore, I'm hardly worth of all this reverence. There are many painters that are much better than me."

[BananaPhone]

Lexus raised an eyebrow at the information she was being given.

It was certainly quite a predicament to be sure...maybe if she could...no...a smirk crossed Lex's lips at the very idea. Something so duplicitous and treacherous wasn't in her nature. Yet.

"I see that you're still a persuasive speaker." Lexus started, peering out across the Boston skyline, "Obviously the information you currently have isn't just going to materialise in my hand..."

[Torgarn]

Marco gives a flashy grin. You ought to know better than to ask a magician to reveal his secrets. Now, would you like to order something to drink?

[pife]

Carelessly waving all three of the servers away with one dismissive hand, she settles gracefully into the chair nearest you, crossing her legs and twisting to face you. Her eyes are bright, and her white teeth are arrayed in a dazzling smile of amusement. Oh, aren't you just adorably humble. Your work has been causing quite a stir. The critics can't decide whether you're a maniac or a genius. Hmm, , she frowns prettily for a moment. I suppose it's likely both, isn't it? She lays one perfectly manicured hand on your arm and nods in commiseration for.. your reputation? Your heritage? But what's all this about new arrivals? Looking for your next muse? Her lower lip trembles in a mock pout. I hadn't heard that you were looking for a new subject. Apparently I don't make the cut?


There is a snort of laughter from the other end of the phone. It never does, Lexie-girl. We need some answers, and you know Boss man don't stint when it comes to gettin' what he wants. So, what's the vig? What's it gonna take to get you motivated? You can hear a generic laugh track in the background, followed by Skiiiiiperrrr!! Professsssoorr! Heeellp!. Sree cackles wildly and loudly into the phone. I never get tired of Gilligan, Lex. Watch it every night. You're too serious, you need to laugh more. But look. Sree's voice drops a full octave, and there is not a sound to be heard from the other side for a moment. He needs somethin' to roll our way. The 'Primes' are startin' to get ancy, and he needs to get this crap under control. The gloves are off, and it's time to decide if you want the spotlight when this is all done, or if you wanna be standin' tall and explainin' to the 'Man why you was willing to let him look stupid. Me, I'm pullin' every string I have and kickin' every rock trying to figger who is gaming us.

The juice, the price tag, your take.


The woman is still slightly starstruck, and begs you to sign a cocktail napkin for her, and tells you that she's going to bring all of her friends. Her 'date', who looks mildly embarrassed at this point, orders a vodka martini, while she looks at you and licks her lips lasciviously before purring Slippery Nipple for me.

[Vetril]

Gary emits an amused chuckle as he considers the absurdity: he never had a muse, and he always thought the concept of needing one was merely a trick used to hide lack of creativity. Obviously, this is something Gary himself cannot tell to Aileen, so he answers with diplomacy.

"Rest assured, it is nothing like that. It's just that you, by virtue of your position, know all the important things that happen within the city."

Letting the implicit compliment sink in, Gary leans back on his chair, his free hand moving to rest over Aileen's. He continues:

"I would just like to know if any of the Kindred recently arrive in the city. I am told a red haired cainite, who goes by the name of Drusilla, might be interested in commissioning a painting; I was wondering who she might be. Someone coming from afar to bask at the sight of my work? I am flattered!"

And a little suspicious, he mentally adds; but let's see what I can find out about this mysterious woman.

Finally, the artist points with his hand at the harpy, with his palm directed upwards. He asks a rethorical question, as he states the obvious.

"And who better than you to learn the whereabouts of this new philantropist?"

[pife]

Your sleep is fitful and disturbing, encumbered by constant reminders of past failures, and trepidation at upcoming danger. You come awake in your chamber and rise. You are startled to see that you have risen later than is your custom. A clock sits next to your Bible, and as you watch, the digital display switches from 7:26 to 7:27. This doesn't register for a moment at all, and, perhaps it shouldn't be relevant to anything. But your analytical mind tears the coincidence apart piece by piece. As you prepare yourself for the evening's activities, verses come to mind.

Leviticus, Chapter Seven, Verses 26 and 27..

26- Moreover ye shall eat no manner of blood, whether it be of fowl or of beast, in any of your dwellings.

27 Whatsoever soul it be that eateth any manner of blood, even that soul shall be cut off from his people.

Surely you are merely imagining a connection. You find that you have had no communication from Kara. Perhaps you should find her, and maybe even young Marco, so that you may begin unraveling the skein of tangled yarn that bedevils you, and allows you to elevate yourself in the eyes of your sire.





Full and sated, you return back to your resting place. Neither Fip nor Marcy are present as you return, but you can hear the constant tappety-tapping of Angela's keyboard in her little closet. You decide to approach her about the hotel key-card tomorrow, and quickly make your preparations for sleep.

You rise soon after the sun has passed from sight, and check the house. Marcy the cat is meowing at the front door, and apparently, Angela still slumbers, as you see no obvious sign of her presence yet.


You rise from another day's slumber, and wonder what the day might bring. You recall Caedral's words, and you also recall the odd performance of Lumina Soarelui in the stock market. Your evening lies before you, and things await discovery. How do you proceed?

Aileen smiles at the compliment, taking it as no more than her due. At your inquiry though, her perfect eyebrows furrow and she purses her lips in thought. Darling, I have not heard of a Cainite going by the name Drusilla, not with any color hair. None by that name have presented themselves in Boston. How did you hear about her? I do love a mystery! As she speaks, she drapes her other hand atop yours, and leans toward him, speaking in a hushed but excited tone. Do you have an admirer?, she muses, one willing to risk the Prince's wrath by entering the city unannounced? What HAVE you been doing, you naughty boy?

Lexus and Marco are mid-scene on the first night, waiting on responses. Kara, if you're still out there, chime in.

[miinstrel]

Jason wipes the sleep and the nightmares from his eyes and tries to bring himself to the present and the tasks still at hand. As he walks into the Chantry proper, he flips through his Bible searching for less guilt-ridden passages. Perhaps Ezra? Whoever does not obey the law of your God and the law of the king must surely be punished by death, banishment, confiscation of property, or imprisonment. Praise be to the LORD, the God of our fathers, who has put it into the king's heart to bring honor to the house of the LORD in Jerusalem in this way... or perhaps Proverbs: Many are the victims she has brought down; her slain are a mighty throng. Her house is a highway to the grave, leading down to the chambers of death. He closes his book quickly, not enjoying where this line of inquiry was leading. Surely the Lords above would see he was rewarded for his loyalty and efforts.

Feeling slightly guilty at the mess he left last night, he returns to the library to put away the maps and books before continuing with anything else. Though he had just fed, he resolved to not eat tonight in light of what the scriptures had told him. The thought of blood had taken on a strange, repulsively alluring quality.

He had no interest in seeing Kara tonight though he knew he must at their meeting. After completing his clean up he seeks out Marco to discuss the importance of solidarity.

[Survy]

James stretches a bit as he walks towards the door, feeling surprisingly upbeat. A full belly, hard cash in the pocket, and a nice place to lay my head. Life is good, besides that dead body.

Noting the absence of Angela, he thinks a bit on her apartment. Might want to take a crack at that eventually. Leaving her alone when there's hunters about may not be the best plan though.

Finally he reaches the meowing cat, and goes down on one knee to get closer to eye level. James begins to make a low meowing sound."What is it Marcy? You want out?"

[roll0]

[BananaPhone]

Lex smirked as she pulled back her vision to observe the blurred and distorted reflection she left in the window before her.

"We'll leave my price-tag for a later discussion, when there's something to haggle over." she says, pulling herself away from her observation point and moving deeper into her room.

"Give me an address to meet you and I'll see how I can come galloping valiantly to your rescue."

Collecting several of her things, Lex left her phone on speaker as she acquired the last items she'd need for the night before she'd depart.

[Vetril]

"Oh, I could tell you, but then you would find it hard to believe me, I think" Gary sits still for a moment, in silence. It is clear he is pondering the situation, as he slips his right hand free from Aileen's touch, and starts to rub his chin.
"I believe we might have a problem" he says plainly.
The artist is not truly worried, yet - however, in the back of his mind, there is a crawling, viscid feeling which claims that no, it's not all right: there is something quite wrong with this.
Again he goes back through the night with his mind's eye, trying to remember something which at the time seemed unimportant - except that now it might be relevant, after all.
"It's something that Yorich told me" - he decides. He tries to remember: it was about cars, and someone who is now gone. Pieces start to fall into their place within Gary's mind. An unauthorized outsider who knew about Sythica and him. A harpy lamenting that one of her contacts has disappeared. Gary's sire warning him, as if she was worried about something. Dark aura. Someone upsetting Sythica's animals. The last piece goes to its place, and mentally the artist adds a sound: "click"; ta-dah, Sherlock.
Gary eyes the harpy. "Excuse me. I believe I must talk to someone else, too. I hate being discourteous, but it's a necessity. I'll make it up for this rude behaviour later, if you want."
As his mind works at frantic speed, the artist stands from the chair and slips out of Aileen's touch as if acting under a trance.
It takes him two steps to go through the list of the cainites in the room; Lacroix: no. Bonney, Redding, Fortes: no. Felicity: no. Morgan, Vicky: no. That left Winston.
Thaddeus Winston it will be, then, he thinks.
By the time he has approached the irishman, Gary already knows exactly what to say.

"Excuse me, Mr Winston. I believe I might have information about a cainite who slipped inside Boston without presenting herself to the Prince. Either that, or a violation of the Masquerade. And, uh - to be completely honest, I fear there is a small chance my sire might be in trouble, right now."

[Torgarn]

Marco mixes the drinks without further fanfare. I hope the two of you enjoy your drinks, if you need another, just let me know.

[Danteric]

Upon waking up, Jeremiah puts on his clothes, a simple pair of jeans and dress shirt, and heads out to his study. According to Caedral, he still had a few hours before he had to meet up with the Tremere. Sitting down at his computer, Jeremiah opens up the stock trading programs, and begins to track recent actions of the company Lumina Soarelui. Seeing the money being funneled into a small company like this intrigued him, and he wanted to figure out why it was heading there.

Opening up another page, he begins to search for other information of Lumina Soarelui on the internet, recent transactions, patents, anything that could give him a clue about the corporation.

Let me know if you want me to make a roll, i'll edit the post with the roll, or make another post, up to you.

[pife]

Your steps echo ominously in the silent and dimly lit corridors of the Chantry. You enter the library, planning to clean up the mess you had left last night, only to find that everything has been returned to its proper place already, and your sire is seated in a high-backed wooden chair, speaking to Wei Chang in hushed but animated tones. When they notice you, both fall silent, but Marco waves you nearer with an imperious gesture.

You are going to be meeting with one of the Brujah Primogen's favorites today, one.. Jeremiah. His assistance has been forced upon us, and we will be gracious about it, as much as it pains us. He hands you a small plastic card, and a piece of paper, with an address and a phone number on it. 155 Portland St., Boston Ma This is the key to Suite 1003 at the Onyx Hotel. You are expected there at 11pm tonight. The phone number is for Marco, contact him and ensure that he attends. Have Selovas drive you, and remain with you for security. And if you hear from your sister, have her contact me immediately. Nobody has seen her, and nobody knows where she is.

Wei Chang stands silently, though he has always been quiet. He regards you coolly with almond shaped eyes, but says nothing. Marco begins to turn away, but stops himself, and turns back to you. Was there anything else?

Marcy continues to mewl at you as you open the door for her, and she scoots out into the cold night air. As you turn back into the house, you see a note on the counter with your name on it. Underneath it is a grainy photograph, and next to it is a large clay ashtray and a lighter. J- The cops found some remains in a closed-down convenience store. Haven't identified the body, not much left from what they were saying. But there's a traffic cam on that corner, and I found something. Take a look at these.. The pictures are focused on a small sedan that had apparently run the red light, but, circled in red marker in the upper right hand corner is a man running toward the store at a full sprint. He is looking over his shoulder, but appears to be looking 'up'. You can't see anything else in the frame, except for a shadow, obviously thrown by a streetlight. Massive wings, with a humanoid shape. I'd burn that picture and this note when you're done. Weird, huh?

No can do tonight, chick, is Sree's instant response. I'm chasing down a possible intruder tonight that I got a lead on. But I have something for you. Get with Icepick, and tell him that I accept his offer on the blue popsicle. He'll know what I'm talking about. He'll give you an address. I need you to go to that address, tonight, and tell me if anyone you find there bleeds 'the wrong way', you get me? Might want to take a little backup on this one, if he's tellin' me the truth. Consider yo'self deputized. Don't leave a mess, k?

A problem? What do you mean? Aileen looks confused. She sputters as you rise and wander away from her. It's obvious that not many people dismiss her so casually. You approach the Sheriff, who looks up from his laptop with a neutral look, and closes it's screen deliberately. His twin guards shift and eye you from head to toe, and the one on the left twitches her hand behind her back before bringing it back into view, flexing her hand. "So which is it then?", he asks with a lilting Irish brogue. Is it some worm who crawled into town w'out permission, a violation of the Masquerade, or is yer fur-crazy Sire in danger?

The rest of the night passes largely without incident. Being the day after New Years, not many people are out drinking, as they are still recovering from the night before. You close up the bar on time, chivvying the last patrons out. One of them happens to be your 'biggest fan', who is drunk enough to tell you that she 'finished that last trick off in fifteen minutes", and lets you know, with a slur and a lascivious licking of her lips, that she'd be happy to come to your place for free so that she can show you HER magic.

While you're talking to her at the curb after locking up, you see a car go by, a white Lincoln Towncar. Please make a Per+Alertness Roll, Diff 5


Once in your study you start browsing your portfolio, and also start poking into the recent actions of Lumina Soarelui. Some of the trails end in what you are sure are shell companies, but you can find no major information anywhere that would indicate a widespread "buy" order being initiated for this little corporation. From everything you can gather, they've only been in business for a short time, and are a subsidiary of a larger Romanian biomed company. You receive an email from Caedral. I made you an appointment for tonight, at eleven. Onyx Hotel, Suite 1003. Make me proud.


Make me a Wits+Finance roll, Diff 7

[Vetril]

Gary purposefully focuses on the irishman's face, trying to ignore the presence of the two women sitting at his sides - oh God, did she just discreetly prepare to break his neck?
He wonders if he should take a chair and sit. He decides not to test the Sheriff's mood, and instead chooses to adopt a relaxed pose as he stands and speaks.

"Ahem. You see, it seems there is a cainite, or some mortal who at least knows that Sythica Breen has some connection with me, snooping around. She met her earlier tonight, as far as I know. This stranger asked Sythica to contact me, tell me that she wants a painting done. Now, that's strange enough, if you ask me - she didn't go to my agent, she went to find Sythica. Furthermore, I'm told her name is Drusilla - a young looking woman, red hair, dark aura - but I just double checked with Miss Lauritzen, and she assures me that no one going by that name introduced herself to the Prince. So I wonder, who is this woman that knows me and my sire, has a dark aura and is unknown to the harpies? Maybe it's nothing, but maybe she's involved with the tension that has been building up lately? Expecially considering her dark aura - isn't that a sign of Amaranth?"

Gary shivers at the thought, as he imagines a dangerous stranger skulking around. Looking for him!
He adjusts the neck of his shirt and eyes Thaddeus, trying to judge his reaction to the explanation.

"As for my sire being in danger, well... I haven't checked on her yet, but last time I heard from her, she mentioned a ruckus around her store;" - He raises his hands, and quickly continues - "it might be nothing, but as I said, I haven't checked. As soon as I figured out this woman's not on the official list, I came straight to you."

The painter spaces out for a moment, trying to force his way into the Cobweb, and see if something has changed. He is conscious that he is mostly trying to reassure himself, simply verifying that everything is as it should be; he can't help but do it anyway.

[miinstrel]

Ahh, this must be what he gave to Kara last night. Jason takes the card trying to seem as confident as possible even though he was shaking with excitement inside. This was a rare opportunity for him to outshine his sister. The last several years, Marco barely acknowledged his presence let alone entrusted him with errands. He silently hoped Kara had met some unfortunate fate at the hands of the Camarilla's mysterious enemies... yet at the same time his mortal training in compassion and kindness had not been entirely consumed by the Beast, and he felt an odd concern for her well being. Inner conflict seemed to be the demon he would wrestle with this evening. Still, this entire matter was larger than his "darling sister." She would have to wait. If Kara weren't dead and saw fit to blow off this meeting, all the better for him. Their sire was not one to be dismissed so easily.

"Nothing yet, father. When last I spoke to Kara she was planning to meet with Marco last night. I'll be sure to ask him if she arrived." With that he bowed his head respectfully to the two and withdrew. He could feel their eyes following him, thinking him incapable and a disgrace as the books had the night before. He'd show them. Someday there would be a book about him sneering down at other neonates. Their hushed conversation continued as he closed the library door behind him.

He pulled out his cell phone and dialed the number... As it rang he couldn't help but smile. Jason wanted to best Kara in this hunt for the killers and she had disappeared. He planned to seek out Marco and the number fell into his lap. Things seemed to be turning up for him. "Marco? It's Jason. Kara will not be joining us tonight. Selovas is driving us. We will be leaving at 10 pm, so make sure you're here by then."

[Survy]

James examines the pictures closely, the shadowy shape sending a shiver up his spine. That's...really not good. This whole mess is looking complicated... Crumpling up the picture and note, he lights them with a small zippo and tosses them in the defunct fireplace before the fire can spread too far.

He paces for a minute, thinking of what he can do. A full belly, a good hiding spot, steady cash...practically the dream, besides the mangled vampire and strange, flying creature.

Finally he walks over to the secluded room Angela tends to spend her time. He still wasn't completely sure how to talk to her, as she was easily one of the most timid clients he'd ever had. Oh well, she's better than the crazy power types.

He knocks on her door lightly, speaking through the door. "Angela, i'm about to head out. Think i'll try and see if anyone is watching your place. Want me to charge your laptop while i'm out?"

[Danteric]

Jeremiah begins searching deeper into recent transactions and other dealings within the business, while keeping a track of time until the meeting with the Tremere. He felt a little unsettled with meeting with Tremere, but if Caedral says its safe, he hoped for the best.


http://sheetgen.dalines.net/wiki/WikiDiceRoller?hash=9251e063

2 successes, sorry for the short post, not much I could think of at the moment. Will be heading towards the hotel after this post.

[Torgarn]

Marco smiles at the woman. I unfortunatelymust decline my dear, come by another night, I might have time.

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

[pife]

Your "biggest fan" pouts a little, but brightens at the prospect that you want her to come back. Her reply to you is completely lost as your eye is drawn toward the man driving the white Towncar. He whips his head to the right so as to hide his face from you, but you are able to see him clearly for a moment. It is the same man who was in your bar, watching you in the reflection of the mirror. The Steelers jersey is gone, the man is clearly wearing different clothing now. His sunken eyes went wide as he noticed you staring at him, but the expression you recognize is rage, not fear. The Towncar accelerates away from the bar, tires squealing as it turns down the nearest street, and almost striking a strolling couple who were in the crosswalk. Ohmigawd, did you see that? What a jerk! It is nearly dawn, however, which may limit your options for the moment.




You pass the next hour or so digging into the transactions of Lumina Soarelui. You find, after extensive dead-ends and transfers, that most of their investments derive from a boutique investment bank called Chestnut Securities, Inc. Their largest shareholder is a man named Romeo Mailat. Further checking proves him to be a Romanian criminal of middling influence around Bucharest. He has sunk literally millions of dollars into LS in the last few months, all through Chestnut. Finally, you cannot find another single account that Chestnut Securities holds. Not. One.

Your trip to the Onyx Hotel passes without incident. It's a fairly small hotel, 4 stars, but it markets itself as a reasonably priced family place. How do you get there? What is your normal mode of transportation around town?


Yeah, that'd be great, comes the chipper response from behind the door. A little bit of rustling can be heard, and the door opens, revealing Angela standing in the near-darkness wearing an oversized T-Shirt that falls to her mid thigh. She has shoulder length, unkempt dirty blonde hair and a sharp nose, and close-set dark blue eyes. She hands you a warm laptop battery. You can see into the room that is little more than a closet, though it is lit only by the dim glow of a laptop screen. The screen is black, with scrolling words that say "You are cooler than people think you are" in bold red letters. Thanks, dude, I really appreciate it. Hey, I'm gonna sneak out and find a bite if you think it's safe here. She looks up from her study of your shoes (she doesn't make a lot of eye contact), regarding you with a questioning gaze. Unless you think it would be safe for me to come with you? She sounds almost hopeful. I've got some more stuff at my place that I'd like to bring back here, y'know? I even know a guy in the next apartment thats always passed out drunk by midnight. He's kinda yummy.

Marco is still in "last night" Totally my fault because I've been so busy lately. But, you can either wait for him to catch up to your timeline or you can assume that he didn't answer and leave a message, allowing you to do other stuff.

However, you head back to your chamber and find a small note, the size of a business card stuck sideways in a large and ancient Bible that was definitely NOT there a few minutes ago. It must be hundreds of years old, with a cracked leather cover and handwritten script. The entire tome is illuminated beautifully. When you open the Bible to the page that the note was inserted to, you find that it is lined up with Deuteronomy, 24-7. "If a man be found stealing any of his brethren of the children of Israel, and maketh merchandise of him, or selleth him; then that thief shall die; and thou shalt put evil away from among you." The note says merely, "Something is wrong here".



The Sheriff steeples his fingers as he regards you. One eyebrow is raised, though whether in concern or derision, it is difficult to say. Okay, he begins. I'll look into it. You talk to Sythica and make sure that she is not in any danger. I'll find out if there's anything to your mysterious redhead. But if you're wasting my time... The Sheriff continues speaking, something along the lines of "you'd better not just be going off on one of your crazy-spells", you realize that you can't hear him. You can see his lips moving, and know that he is speaking, but the only sound you can hear is the clangor of what sounds like pipes and machinery, banging and hammering. And one other thing.. A voice, a metallic, androgynous voice that you have never heard before is whispering.. Take him, took him, where I Took him, took him, I did take him, took him where I took him, TAKEN, took me where I took him, so sweet the taking, taken for the taking, when I took, I'm taken, WHY taken, why?

The voice in your head falls silent, or rather, is subsumed by the banging of the pipes and the roar of heavy machinery. But you can now hear Thaddeus, his voice raised, brow furrowed, speaking forcefully to you.. You hearin' me, boyo? Don't come the cockerel over to me and start trippin' bollocks. Oy! The machinery fades, leaving only the music of Elysium and the frustrated Sheriff's voice.




After your conversation with Sree, you contact Icepick. You already had his phone number, as do most of the Kindred in Boston. You have no idea what Sree was referring to, about the 'blue popsicle', but Icepick seems to. Alright, he rasps in a deep, wet rumble. The man you are looking for runs "Sweet Pete's", an ice cream truck company in Natick, where Oxford 't's into Oak Street. He's got a deep freeze building across the street from his office. I've lost two of my best scouts snooping this place out. I think this has something to do with the disappearances. Whether or not you find anything, Sree still owes me all the same. Business is business. Then he hangs up.

[Vetril]

Gary blinks a couple of times, trying to shake off the interferences. Once again he mentally cursed the legacy of his clan, that granted him a gift some would call a curse.
He addresses the irishman, trying his best to apologize for his apparent lack of attention.

"I'm sorry, I'm just worried. I'll call Sythica right away; I'll let you know if she's ok."

He steps away from the Sheriff's personal space in the middle of the Elysium, and reaches in his pocket for his phone. As he selects his sire's number from the contact list, he tries to encourage himself: maybe I am wrong, after all, and I am getting worried for nothing.

The painter starts the call, and puts the mobile phone to his ear. As he listens to the signal, he glances first at Thaddeus, and then at the dancers, almost expecting to see them warp again into those strange apparitions.

If something happens to her, I would know, right? We all would know. Heck, we'd know if something happened to any of us. Of course, of course! That's how it works, right?

But the cobweb reported nothing out of the ordinary. If anything, it was a little too calm.

[miinstrel]

I'll go with the option that he didn't answer and I left a message in a slightly irritated voice. "Marco? Bah, It's Jason. Kara will not be joining us tonight. Selovas is driving us. We will be leaving at 10 pm, so make sure you're here by then."

This solidified it; the passages he'd been seeing were coincidence no longer. Someone was speaking to him. Someone from the inner circle? With the way his own sire treated him he stood in awe for a moment that the other masters would even take notice. Or, more ominously, someone from outside of the chantry. Could these shadowy villains be as close as that? They'd taken other kindred from near their homes, but the Chantry was different... wasn't it? A haven. Impregnable thanks to the power of the Lords on High.

Jason took a moment to look around his room for an intruder before quietly closing the door to study this ancient treasure more carefully. This defenseless book, so easily ruined by a simple glass of water, was far older than many of the children of Caine. It survived because it was beautiful and useful... he couldn't help but think of Kara again who surely only survived this long because of the former. She obviously lacked the latter or she'd still be here. He handled the Bible with supreme reverence, not even daring to lift it from its perch on his nightstand lest it crumble to dust like so many treasonous neonates in the sun.

Something is wrong here... In the Chantry? The Camarilla? Were Kindred being sold as... slaves? No, no kine could control us to that extent. The Beast would take over and send as many as it could to an early eternity before it joined them. Brethren of the children of Israel... so another of our kind was doing this. A moment of frustration took hold of him as he contemplated the mysterious benefactor who seemed unwilling to lift his own fingers to do what must be done. The schemes of the elders were limitless and useless.

Jason looked down and found his thumb making its usual, repetitive motion flipping the gilded pages of the tome, as he does with his personal book, and stopped himself before bending them irreparably. He wanted to ask his mentor for advice but knew that would only be seen as weakness. Marco was a difficult man to please. No, he must figure this out on his own.

Checking room for any sign of an intruder: Perception+Alertness [roll0]

Learning more about this book. Where it came from, who might know more... something of this magnitude must be exceptionally rare: Intelligence+Academics [roll1]

[Danteric]

Jeremiah pulls into a spot near the hotel, close enough to make a getaway if things get messy. Getting out of his car, Jeremiah heads towards the hotel building, imagining what he might run into. Cant say I feel safe about meeting some Tremere in a fairly excluded location, alone. But they wouldn't be that brash to attack me in the open, right? . Heading up to room 1003, Jeremiah knocks on the door, and awaits an answer.

He uses a car, probably just a plain Honda Civic or something of the like, I have resources 3, so its not a crappy car atleast :P

[pife]

Your mind races as the phone rings once. Aileen is casting furtive glances at you, though the shadows are too deep to tell what expression she has on her face. She has her 'throne' on the settee, and Felicity is nodding at whatever she is saying. The phone rings a second time. One of Thaddeus' twin protectors glides past you swiftly and leaves the room. The music rings loudly in your ears. A third ring. Nwabudike Morgan stands up abruptly from the table and stalks off, obviously annoyed. The fourth ring begins, but is cut off by; Hello Gary. The friendly voice of Sythica Breen is easy to identify. Are you calling about the little red-headed girl?", she asks calmly. She's here, with me now, and you should come m.. There is a clattering at the other end of the line. You hear some rustling, and Sythica's voice again, though this time it is more distant, and more urgent. Where I Took you!. The line goes dead.

And the dancers continue to cavort.


You cast your gaze around the room, looking for anything out of place. You can't tell that anyone or anything is or has been here, nor does anything appear to be out of place. Satisfied that nobody is lurking in your chamber, you turn your attention back to the ancient Bible. You look for any clues as to it's origin, and find several. First, it appears to be from the 13th Century, and was illuminated by a man named "Capetti', or so the inscription indicates. Make two Intelligence+Investigation rolls, and one Perception + Occult roll. All Difficulty 8 please..

It is nearly time to head to the hotel. A firm knock can be heard at your door. Master Jason? It is time to go" It sounds like Selovas. He still retains a light Bulgarian accent, though you know that he has been here for many years. He is one of Wei Chang's ghouls, and often acts as 'security' for Warlocks who leave the Chantry. His instincts are superb, and his marksmanship with a pistol is beyond reproach. He also knows when and how to keep his mouth shut, which is, perhaps, why he has lasted for so long.



Uniformed doormen flank both sides of the shining black glass doors, which they open wide at your approach.



Mr. Wilson, a lovely young lady dressed in professional attire approaches you, with a leather bound binder in her hands. So good you could come, please to come with me. She smiles brightly at you. A small nametag announces her as 'August', Hotel Concierge. Your party has already arrived. I can take you to them.

Do you follow her?
http://i1294.photobucket.com/albums/b604/Pife/Q2Y7323-print-copy1_zps249f9e66.jpg (http://s1294.photobucket.com/user/Pife/media/Q2Y7323-print-copy1_zps249f9e66.jpg.html)

[miinstrel]

Int+Inv #1: [roll0]
Int+Inv #2: [roll1]
Per+Occ: [roll2]

Jason checked his watch: 9:57. Still no sign of Marco. This isn't good.

"Thank you, Selovas. I'll meet you in the foyer in a moment." He cast another long glance at the decorative lettering and closed the front cover. He committed the important details to memory before looking around for a place to store the thing.

Jason didn't have many good hiding spots in his room but he did his best. Turning the tome sideways allowed it to fit on his shelves. He made some space behind the books on the bottom shelf and slid the tome in behind them pulling the other books forward into a more or less solid line so one section of books wasn't protruding farther than the others.

This chapter was just beginning, but he had another book to read. A book about the Brujah's messenger boy. It seems all of the glory - and all of the shame - belonged to him now. Time to make father proud. He met Selovas and remained silent until they were on the road. "Selovas, how much do you know about this meeting and the events surrounding it?"

[Danteric]

Jeremiah lets out a quick nod to the woman, he was not expecting to be greeted as such, but assumed when Caedral wanted things done, he didn't cut costs. "Of course, lead the way, my dear. Do you happen to know who else has arrived?" He pondered, how many people was he meeting up? Not a cabal of scheming warlocks, he hoped.

[Vetril]

For a second, the artist thinks his phone has broken. Confused, he gives a good look at the device screen, before he realizes that the problem is not on his side.
Gary turns on his feet. The few words Sythica was able to speak shook him as if he had been hit by lightning. On the verge of panic, he starts talking to Thaddeus.

"It's her! She's with her, right now! We must... We must go, she could be in danger!"

Gary puts away his phone, and instinctively starts walking towards the exit. He makes one step before realizing what he is doing; then, he turns again towards the Sheriff, not wanting to lose the fragile support he is being granted.
The painter passes a hand through his hair - a gesture that makes him look a little more than unstable - and continues:

"Please. I think I know where they are, so if we move quickly, you can put your hands on this trespasser tonight, yes?"

[pife]

Just as you are closing the ancient tome to seek it's new hiding place, you freeze. You open the book again, and close it, open and closed, open and closed. You don't know how it caught your eye, but somehow you were able to notice the most minute glint off of the page you had it open to. It can barely be noticed, even now that you are looking at it, and it is extremely faint. There appears to be some form of marking on the page, immediately above the word "brethren". Faded beyond belief, there appears to be a line written lightly, but not using any medium that you are aware of. It is not pencil, ink, paint.. There are no indentations on the page, or on the reverse page showing that it was inscribed there. There are only four words that you can make out. "Vitae of the Kindred" is all you can make out.

You rapidly find a hiding place for the book, knowing that your efforts will likely be for nothing if your room is thoroughly searched. But there is nothing to be done for that now. You join Selovas and head down to one of the Chantry's stock of vehicles. This one happens to be a bullet-resistant white Mercedes E-Class, one with a massive 5.5 liter engine crammed under the hood. Selovas is smooth and confident behind the wheel, and silent more often than not. You wait patiently after you ask him what he knows, until you think that perhaps he didn't hear you. Finally, however, his gravelly voice rumbles softly over the sound of the powerful engine accelerating, The meeting, I know little. You are to meet Brujah muscle to help find enemies. His mouth twists as if he doesn't like the taste of the words. Primogen and Prince are very concerned, want action. Adjusting his rearview mirror and grunting, he continues. And either the Chantry wants to make sure that we make it there safe, and forgot to tell me, or else there is someone else following us.

Turning in your seat, you see nothing out of the ordinary.. at first. There are several sets of headlights behind you as you travel toward the hotel. Selovas accelerates sharply, and jerks the heavy vehicle into the left hand lane, then brakes rapidly before making a hard left, diving down a side street. You are pushed hard to the right as the car leans away from the turn, the Z-rated tires barely making a sound as they cling to the black pavement. You reorient yourself, and find that another vehicle make the same turn at a high rate of speed. A dark colored S.U.V. whips around the corner, and you can faintly make out the sound of their tires squealing. Seat belt on, sir? Selovas sets his jaw and grips the wheel tightly as he gives the car more gas, and the vehicle eagerly responds, leaping forward, engine growling for more.



I'm afraid they didn't give me their names, sir, August replies brightly. But I know that.. refreshments have been prepared, and we think you'll be pleased. They only just arrived, and you are still early, yet. She leads you across a richly appointed lobby, with deeply polished red marble floors covered tastefully with finely woven rugs of Oriental and Persian make. Everything shines brightly under the subdued yet adequate lighting, and a man in a suit with an earbud and jaw microphone nods a greeting to August at the first bank of shining elevators you come to. She pushes the "Up" button, and the door immediately opens, at which point she enters the elevator and looks expectantly at you to follow. When you do, the suited gentleman steps in behind you. August pushes another button and the elevator doors close, the vehicle rising smoothly and swiftly.

Please make me a Perception+Alertness roll.



Your outburst was not quiet or subtle. Though the music likely drowns out your words to anyone further than ten feet from you, several pairs of eyes are firmly on you now. The Sheriff glares at you, unused to being spoken to so insistenly. His right-hand shadow tenses as you approach, and her hand slides behind her back. Thaddeus holds a hand up, though he couldn't possibly have seen the motion, as she is behind him. Oh, yer gointa' owe me somethin' fierce if this turns out to be nothin, boyo, bet on it. Nonetheless, he closes the laptop, getting the attention of one of the Elysium stewards, pointing at it. The man immediately approaches, picking up the laptop carefully. It will be in your office, sir, the man politely says. Thaddeus straightens his clothes, and jerks his head toward the back of the building. C'mon then, lad, lets see whether Sythica is in trouble, or if you are. He strides purposefully, the rolling gait of a brawler, toward a door you've never been through before. A corridor lit only by one wall lamp extends for about fifty feet, before ending at another door. Thaddeus punches a series of numbers into a keypad at on the wall, receiving a loud pair of beeps in return. The door behind you closes automatically, and the door ahead swings silently open. Keeping herself between you and the Sheriff, the ghostly bodyguard glides behind him, her head on a swivel as you step out into the cold night air. You are in a concrete parking structure, it seems, and several luxury vehicles sit waiting. A slender and likely short man sits behind the wheel of a black limousine close to the door, and the engine sparks to life before Thaddeus reaches the door. His shadow opens the door, and precedes him inside. You move to enter the vehicle next, when the second of Thaddeus' bodyguards appears suddenly at your side and shoulders past you into the vehicle. Well? The Sheriff is motioning for you to enter, and sit across from him, his protectors flanking him at the windows. Where in the Nine Hells do we be headin' son?

[miinstrel]

Jason turns around in his seat and calmly pulls the seatbelt over his shoulder into the lock. He reaches into his right pocket and removes a rusted nail holding it tightly in his palm. Closing his eyes and muttering an incantation, he focuses his mind on the vehicle behind them, specifically the steering mechanism. "Take your next convenient right," he says to Selovas.

This could be a chance to confront their pursuers, but there would be other attacks. The meeting was the most important thing right now and, more importantly, his command from on high.

Activating Machine Blitz ritual, difficulty 5.
Attempting to shut down their ability to steer so the car will shoot past us when we turn (and possibly into a building if we're at a T intersection? :D).

Int+Occult: [roll0]

[Vetril]

Gary takes his place on the leather seat, as he tries to focus. "Uh. Franklin Park. The zoo. She's there right now. At the gorilla cages, I think."
"She might be in danger, but she's not dead." Knowing full well that he sounds insane, the painter adds, quietly: "We'd know. Me and the others."
The artist sits silent for a few minutes, watching the road out of the windows run past him and disappear.
"You're not going to make me fight, right? I'm not a good fighter. At all. I'd just, you know, inconvenience you - I don't even have a weapon..." Gary leans towards the sheriff, his elbows resting on the knees. His hand goes up to subconsciously touch his chin.
"What are you going to do to that outsider, anyway? Bring her to the Prince?"

[Danteric]

Jeremiah steps into the elevator with August, slightly surprised at the detail of the hotel. He didnt expect to meet the Warlocks at such a high class hotel, it must have cost a fortune to reserve the room for the meeting. After stepping into the elevator, Jeremiah watches the suited man stand behind him, he felt a little unnerved with such a man standing behind him, for all he knew, he could be walking straight into a trap.

Jeremiah watches as the elevator doors close, and the elevator begins to rise. He sneaks a glance over at the suited man, trying to figure out his purpose.


http://sheetgen.dalines.net/wiki/WikiDiceRoller?hash=522e6dbb

[pife]

Selovas nods, eyes scanning for the nearest intersection. The SUV seems to keep pace for a moment, but begins to fall behind as Selovas continues to increase speed. Without slowing, he puts the powerful Mercedes into a controlled, sliding turn, barely losing any momentum as he spins the wheel adroitly in his hands, haring off down a side street to the right. The SUV cannot be seen for a moment, the luminescence from it's headlights the only proof that it is there. Then it flies through the intersection without turning, though when it is nearly out of your sight, the tires start smoking from the squealing punishment the brakes are applying.

Selovas continues to weave through traffic at three times the posted speed, but the police are obviously elsewhere, and all of the civilian traffic is easily avoided. Several miles and numerous turns later, Selovas calmly enters the on-ramp of a highway, heading in the direction of the hotel. His eyes flicker to your clenched fist just once. By your prowess, they have been lost, Master Jason, he rumbles Shall I continue to the meeting?

The bloody zoo? Well, don't that just figure, chuckles Thaddeus. His flanking shadows betray no emotions, one of them eyeing Gary, the other watching through all of the tinted windows at the dim lights whipping by. The limousine travels smoothly, the engine quiet and powerful, the driver delicate in his motions. So.. Gary. The Sheriff's first use of your name is a bit of a surprise. No, yer not gonna be fightin' unless things are worse than they should be. I've never known but a few of your kin to be much for the fisticuffs, if ye know what I mean. But what you can tell me is, why are they at the park, and why by Moses' soggy bollocks are they at the gorilla cages? Do ye know who 'tis that has her, or how many there are? Or what they want with her? The car continues to race toward Franklin Park. Thaddeus reaches under his jacket, and checks the magazine of the shiny silver semi-automatic pistol that he withdraws. Replacing the clip, he racks the weapon, loading a round into the chamber. His twin shadows seem supremely unperturbed.

Is this the redhead you was tellin' me about?



The man is nondescript, late 30's, solidly built, standard off the rack suit with a short brown haircut, and a slightly scraggly mustache. Autumn smiles at you in the reflection of the shiny elevator door. "Ding". The elevator stops, and the doors open. August steps out of the elevator with a bright This way, sir! The first set of doors off of the elevator to the left are mahogany double-doors ten feet tall, and engraved. The doorknob is in the shape of a hawks head. August stands to the side of the door, gesturing. Here you are, sir, your friends are waiting for you.

[miinstrel]

"Of course. We don't want to keep our respected guest waiting." There's the tiniest hint of mockery in his voice for the other meeting attendee, an indulgence safe to manifest in the midst of this trusted slave.

As he replaces the nail into his pocket, Jason finds his mind returning to the gift in his chamber, specifically to the Christian savior, the son of God. The instrument used to bind him to his fate was a simple piece of wrought iron. A stake, if you will, plunged through his hands and feet. Persecuted by the rich and powerful, expected to conform to their demands. Rebelling for the greater good. Performing miracles, magic to some. How like the late Mr. Christ were he and his clanmates. So then, Pontius, son of Troile... who holds the bloody silver?

[Vetril]

Gary is feeling nervous as he watches the Sheriff with his two bodyguards. They look like they jumped out of a Matrix movie, he thinks.
The malkavian is starting to tune out, trying to reach the network, when Thaddeus calls him by name; Gary immediately snaps back to the here and now.
"She just likes the zoo - it's full of animals." The painter considers what he knows, before he provides an educated guess.
"I think it's just Sythica and that woman... Yes, that readhead that asked about me;" - he shakes his head - "as for her purpose, your guess is as good as mine, I fear."
Gary shifts on the seat, as he watches the others arm theirselves. "I sure hope you're not gonna need those... I have a bad feeling though."
Maybe I should warn Mahmoud. If Sythica's in danger, well, that's a problem of the whole clan, isn't it? The artist's eyebrows go up. But what if it's nothing, after all? I'd get in trouble with him, too. No, no. Let's wait and see.


If you don't mind, I'd prefer to keep the bond towards Sythica at level 1. It gives more options to the character, I think.

[Danteric]

Jeremiah nods to August, thanking her for leading him to the room. Looking up at the giant ornamented doors, he was a little surprised at the whole thing, he wasn't expecting such a grand location just to meet up with some people. Multiple thoughts raced through his mind, maybe this was a trap? Had people found out his true clan? Maybe someone just wanted to get rid of him now before he caused trouble later?

Jeremiah shook the thoughts from his head, and walks towards the 10 foot tall door. If he wanted to turn back, it would be too late now. Grabbing the eagle head handle, Jeremiah turns the handle and opens the door, prepared to face whats inside.

[pife]

Selovas nods, not questioning your decision for even a moment. Less than twenty minutes later, Selovas pulls into the valet parking section of the Onyx Hotel. Handing the keys to a uniformed valet, he walks quickly to open your door for you, and makes to follow you inside.

Four uniformed doormen stand at the door, which they open for you at your approach. The lobby is well appointed, with deeply polished red marble floors covered tastefully with finely woven rugs of Oriental and Persian make. Everything shines brightly under the subdued yet adequate lighting. Good evening sir, a bellhop greets you, as he pushes a heavily laden luggage cart past you. Good evening, gentlemen, says the elegant looking Indian woman behind the registration desk. A pair of young men dressed as businessmen fall in behind you, swaying heavily into each other as they laugh in an inebriated way. They seem to also be heading to the elevator bank, whose shining doors show their reflection, as well as that of the lovely flower arrangements and graceful looking furniture. And then, the taller of the two says to the other, she took off her blouse, and was standing there, in the middle of the courtroom, saying 'Do these look fake to you, your Honor"? They both start cackling with laughter as they wait for you to push the button that calls one of the lifts.




The rest of the trip is endured in silence. Thaddeus replaces his pistol in it's holster, and retrieves his cell phone, tapping on it in silence as the miles fly by. Without preamble, a foreign voice comes over a speaker into the passenger area. We are pulling into the zoo now, sir. The limousine makes several short turns, and pulls up to the front of the zoo.



The first picture is obvious. The second is Sythica's favorite spot in the entire zoo. She can (and has) sat there for hours, doodling on the ground with sticks or what have you as she watches the animals. She says it's calming.

http://i1294.photobucket.com/albums/b604/Pife/franklinparkzoomap_zps524cf24e.png (http://s1294.photobucket.com/user/Pife/media/franklinparkzoomap_zps524cf24e.png.html)

http://i1294.photobucket.com/albums/b604/Pife/franklinparkzoo22-44762_zps336773b0.jpg (http://s1294.photobucket.com/user/Pife/media/franklinparkzoo22-44762_zps336773b0.jpg.html)

Well lad, rumbles Thaddeus. Can't say I've been to the zoo. Where to? One of his bodyguards walks up to the darkened gates (at the Zebra Entrance, in case it matters), inspecting it for a moment before she reaches up and jerks it open, shattering the padlock with the screech of tortured metal. The limousine driver douses the lights, saying, I'll be here if you need me, sir.


Make a Malkavian Time roll for me.
Also, your vision starts to slip in and out of focus, and you hear a ringing in your ears. You normally don't have any advance warning, but once in a while, you know when you are about to have a vision. Sometimes they are brief, but they have been known to last all night before. Sometimes they are helpful, but they have also been known to reduce you to a gibbering mess. Roll WP if you want to try to resist the vision, focusing your mind on the task at hand, or Perception + Empathy if you want to embrace it and see where it takes you.






Sorry yours isn't bigger this time, there's a method to my madness. Make me one Perception + Alertness, and one Wits + Subterfuge.

[Danteric]

Percep+Aware: http://sheetgen.dalines.net/wiki/WikiDiceRoller?hash=a24a0766
Wits+Sub: http://sheetgen.dalines.net/wiki/WikiDiceRoller?hash=bf4e5c9a

[miinstrel]

The liquor in their sweat was abominable. These 'upper class' swine couldn't even shell out for the nicer spirits. Mr. Daniels could burn in the fires of hell. Still, better to not cause a scene; this meeting was important. The elevator ride would be short enough. Jason pressed his cold finger to the button which emitted a soft yellow glow. He folded his arms and looked up at the indicator slowly traveling counterclockwise from the 17th story. This was intolerable. Could I run up the stairs more quickly? Though he would need to find the stairs and that would take time too... bah, better to just wait.

Inside the elevator he pressed the button for the 10th floor and listened to the engines whir as they pulled the metal cage skyward.

[Vetril]

Gary steps down the car and starts walking towards the now open gates at a quick pace. He is visibly worried, but doesn't hesitate when the Sheriff asks him for directions - he's been here many times.

"I bet they are at the gorilla cages - down this path, then right as soon as we reach the movie set. I know they..." - the painter suddenly loses a step.

Oh. Oh, this is it. He blinks a few times, as if he had trouble seeing, and shakes his head for a few moments to regain his focus.

"Uh - something... There's... I..."

The malkavian walks towards the Zoo fence, staggering like a drunk. He is barely able to cling to it, before he wilts against it. The best he can do is to point his hand towards the general direction they were supposed to go. His last clear thought echos with a note of despair within his mind: I sure hope he gets it, because I'm going down the rabbit hole and won't be home for a while.

Malkavian Time - skill only, no attribute? [roll0] [roll1] [roll2] [roll3].
Perception + Empathy: [roll4] [roll5] [roll6] [roll7] [roll8] [roll9] [roll10] - let's ride that vision!

[Vetril]

Rolled a 10 on Perception, so I trigger the specialization: [roll0] - and a couple more, just in case I keep rolling 10: [roll1] [roll2]

Edit - and of course, a 1 that eats the 10. -_-

[pife]

As you reach for the hawks-head doorknob, something catches your eye. The number 701 is clearly stenciled on the door. You were told to meet in 1003. Just as you start to realize that you might be in the wrong place, you realize you can see your reflection in the ultra-shiny brass kickplate that runs ornately all the way up the side of the door. Over your shoulder, you see Autumn nod to the man behind you. Your eyes flick over to the other side, and see the man behind you draw something long and dark out of his coat.


The giggling lawyers debark the elevator at the fifth floor, holding one another up as they stagger loudly into the wall. The doors close, and the elevator rises to six, where the door opens once more, to allow a slightly built man of South American descent, and in the uniform of a hotel employee to join you. He looks up at you through his glasses, with a ready smile, Good evening si... he begins in a heavy accent before his breath catches in his throat. His eyes widen, and he backs into the corner of the elevator, making the sign of the cross over his chest. Within seconds, beads of sweat have broken out on this man's forehead, and he is literally trembling. His eyes don't seem able to leave yours, and he makes a small noise in his throat, though whether it began as words or was always going to be a whisper, you cannot tell. The elevator continues to rise.


The wrought-iron fence is cool against your skin. Truth be told, it's downright cold, but what do you care, right? Vertigo sets in, and if you still drew breath, you'd be panting right now. Get that bloomin' idiot on his feet, willya, shouts Thaddeus. One of his shadows comes and lifts you effortlessly by your armpits, but your legs are like rubber, and when she attempts to set you back upright, you collapse like a marionette whose strings have been cut. Bah, he's probably afraid to fight, c'mon then, lets go see if there's even anything here. Maybe I'll feed him to the.... Thaddeus' voice becomes a brass horn sounding stridently. The air is chill, and the swampy ground beneath your feet sucks the warmth out of you. Your breath spills out in wave after wave of fog as you ready your shield. INSIDIAS!! INSIDIAS!! For "Ambush, Ambush!! Centurion Linus has drawn his gladius, and pointed to the treeline to your left. Dozens, then hundreds, then THOUSANDS of fur-clad warriors break from the trees, sprinting in your direction. "Oh no", you think. The Legion is in line formation, suitable for marching, but not for repelling an attack. The inhuman roar of thousands of barbarians rings in your ears, and cries of fear and panic begin to rise from your comrades. The officers attempt to order your century into some kind of defensive formation, when the dreaded cry of Habentes We're Surrounded!can be heard, first from one voice, then others take it up. As you set your feet and bring up your shield parallel with the man to your left and right, you steal a look behind you. Hordes more men have broken from that treeline as well, and are bearing down on your back. The Teutoberg Forest has just become a killing ground. Gritting your teeth, you turn back to face the oncoming warriors, who raise gigantic swords and massive, terrifying axes over their heads as they bear down on you. Over their heads, you can hear the whistle of hundreds of arrows. You feel sick to your stomach.

But that's what happens when you drink too much bathtub gin. The speakeasy is spinning as you stagger toward a wall. The chatter is loud, all around you, the sounds of women laughing, men cursing, and dice rolling. Your head throbs with each key the pianist presses. "Bathroom", you think. "Gotta find the bathroom". Your pinstriped suit cost way too much for you to vomit all over it. You lurch in the direction of the exit, as it's much closer than the restroom on the other end of the room, and you stagger out past the bouncer and into the darkness. You fall down the three wooden steps, barking your shin on the.. motorcycle? You look up with bloodshot eyes to see several dozen police glaring at you, billy clubs in hand. You open your mouth to yell, and

TOUCHDOWN!! The stadium rumbles overhead, but you're only half paying attention. Kneeling between your legs, your girlfriend Danielle bobs back and forth and you have to grip the sides of the bathroom stall to keep from falling over. Her big blue eyes look up at you shining, tears welling up, and suddenly, another voice whispers in your ear from behind you, male, deep and sinister. Pull the trigger like a good boy, Arnold A deafening report, the smell of gunpowder and sulfur, and the brightly blossoming hole in your girlfriends forehead gapes wide enough to jump through. You drop the pistol into it, and step out of the bathroom stall, back into the courtroom. Guilty, your honor, you sing out gaily. Definitely guilty! I killed her, that crazy old hag! Led her right into the woods, where I had my boys waiting![/COLOR]

Meanwhile, in the back corner of a strip club, you sit staring at the man across from you. The chairs you're sitting in are felt-lined, and sticky, but you try not to think about that. Your silk suit is going to absorb the smells of this place and never come out, you're sure of it. Your 'business associate' licks his fat lips, and opens the briefcase in front of you. Bags and bags of powdered.. blood.. glisten up at you, wet, and somehow dry at the same time. Like I wuz sayin, the guy mutters in a heavy Brooklyn accent, ya give em this stuff, and in a coupla' minutes, they won't be able to move. But ya gotta make sure they don't have none o'dem mind powers, y'know? Elsewise they kin still do stuff to ya.

(Gary, there is more to the vision, including some explanation, but I've run out of time at work, my carpool is waiting. I'll pick it up when I get home).

[Danteric]

"Should've known this was a trap" Jeremiah mutters, as he quickly spins around towards the bodyguard. He had little time to react, and he couldn't take both of them on, even if August seemed abit more frail then the guard, whatever the bodyguard was taking out of his suit, Jeremiah didnt want to find out.

Quickly looking at the guard, Jeremiah begins to subtly manipulate the flow of time, causing the guard to relive his last few moments in time, if only long enough to run away.

I use level 2 Temporis, Recurring contemplation.
[roll0]
I then attempt to run down the hall, away from the guards, attempting to reach the real room 1003.

[miinstrel]

Not this again... what inconvenient timing. Jason had encountered this off and on over the years since his embrace. This was the whole reason Marco had all but disowned him. He felt a familiar, dull rage well up inside him at the revulsion. Still, this was not the time. And he couldn't have him rushing out to tell the world a monster was in the hotel tonight. No, that wouldn't do at all.

"Oh, careful there. Help the man up," he requests of Selovas as genuinely as possible. The large man steps over placing one hand on the lad's arm and the other near his arm pit, hoisting him to his feet. Jason takes a step back to lean against the rear of the elevator giving the insufferable coward as much room as he could. "You know, you've happened along at the perfect time. I'm meeting some associates here and just thought of some special accommodations after we stepped into the elevator. You will come with us and let us know if they will be feasible, yes? Nothing too elaborate, but certainly not your usual fare, I'm sure." He smiles at the bellhop as he brings his Bible around from behind his back to hold with both hands at his waist.

Great! Selovas and I will stand so he can't easily rush out the door if it stops at the 7th-9th floors. We will proceed to 1003 as planned but with an additional snack for our Brujah guest.
I have a couple different ideas... I'll wait for his response before I detail mine.

[pife]

The wrought-iron fence is cool against your skin. Truth be told, it's downright cold, but what do you care, right? Vertigo sets in, and if you still drew breath, you'd be panting right now. Get that bloomin' idiot on his feet, willya, shouts Thaddeus. One of his shadows comes and lifts you effortlessly by your armpits, but your legs are like rubber, and when she attempts to set you back upright, you collapse like a marionette whose strings have been cut. Bah, he's probably afraid to fight, c'mon then, lets go see if there's even anything here. Maybe I'll feed him to the.... Thaddeus' voice becomes a brass horn sounding stridently. The air is chill, and the swampy ground beneath your feet sucks the warmth out of you. Your breath spills out in wave after wave of fog as you ready your shield. INSIDIAS!! INSIDIAS!! For "Ambush, Ambush!! Centurion Linus has drawn his gladius, and pointed to the treeline to your left. Dozens, then hundreds, then THOUSANDS of fur-clad warriors break from the trees, sprinting in your direction. "Oh no", you think. The Legion is in line formation, suitable for marching, but not for repelling an attack. The inhuman roar of thousands of barbarians rings in your ears, and cries of fear and panic begin to rise from your comrades. The officers attempt to order your century into some kind of defensive formation, when the dreaded cry of Habentes We're Surrounded!can be heard, first from one voice, then others take it up. As you set your feet and bring up your shield parallel with the man to your left and right, you steal a look behind you. Hordes more men have broken from that treeline as well, and are bearing down on your back. The Teutoberg Forest has just become a killing ground. Gritting your teeth, you turn back to face the oncoming warriors, who raise gigantic swords and massive, terrifying axes over their heads as they bear down on you. Over their heads, you can hear the whistle of hundreds of arrows. You feel sick to your stomach.

But that's what happens when you drink too much bathtub gin. The speakeasy is spinning as you stagger toward a wall. The chatter is loud, all around you, the sounds of women laughing, men cursing, and dice rolling. Your head throbs with each key the pianist presses. "Bathroom", you think. "Gotta find the bathroom". Your pinstriped suit cost way too much for you to vomit all over it. You lurch in the direction of the exit, as it's much closer than the restroom on the other end of the room, and you stagger out past the bouncer and into the darkness. You fall down the three wooden steps, barking your shin on the.. motorcycle? You look up with bloodshot eyes to see several dozen police glaring at you, billy clubs in hand. You open your mouth to yell, and

TOUCHDOWN!! The stadium rumbles overhead, but you're only half paying attention. Kneeling between your legs, your girlfriend Danielle bobs back and forth and you have to grip the sides of the bathroom stall to keep from falling over. Her big blue eyes look up at you shining, tears welling up, and suddenly, another voice whispers in your ear from behind you, male, deep and sinister. Pull the trigger like a good boy, Arnold A deafening report, the smell of gunpowder and sulfur, and the brightly blossoming hole in your girlfriends forehead gapes wide enough to jump through. You drop the pistol into it, and step out of the bathroom stall, back into the courtroom. Guilty, your honor, you sing out gaily. Definitely guilty! I killed her, that crazy old hag! Led her right into the woods, where I had my boys waiting![/COLOR]

Meanwhile, in the back corner of a strip club, you sit staring at the man across from you. The chairs you're sitting in are felt-lined, and sticky, but you try not to think about that. Your silk suit is going to absorb the smells of this place and never come out, you're sure of it. Your 'business associate' licks his fat lips, and opens the briefcase in front of you. Bags and bags of powdered.. blood.. glisten up at you, wet, and somehow dry at the same time. Like I wuz sayin, the guy mutters in a heavy Brooklyn accent, ya give em this stuff, and in a coupla' minutes, they won't be able to move. But ya gotta make sure they don't have none o'dem mind powers, y'know? Elsewise they kin still do stuff to ya.

You watch him wipe the sweat from his unibrow. The lights are extremely bright, and your eyes feel dry and chalky. There are spatters of blood on his white labcoat, some new, some apparently very old, but he doesn't seem to notice. He appears to be speaking, but you cannot hear. He reaches out his hand, and from out of sight another hand appears, handing him a piece of equipment. It looks something like a drill, but where the bit would be there is a circular blade. His face mask bulges slightly with each breath he expels, and his mismatched eyes (one green, one brown) focus on something just above your gaze. You can feel something, a vibration that runs all through your body, but seems to be centered on your head. The tremor continues for several minutes, and droplets of sweat fall from his face onto your body. There is a strong pulse at his throat, and you can smell blood. Feed. You need to feed. You try to reach up to him, to grab him ,but you find that you don't have arms.. or rather, you seem to have them, but you cannot move them. You try to twist your head to look at your hands, but find that your head won't move either. You are trapped. When was the last time you fed? You shouldn't feel this hungry, but you do. Your fangs extend and you surge against your bonds, but to no avail. The man continues his work without even seeming to notice your efforts. Your vision blurs, and every coherent thought flees from the swelling anger and terror that begin to consume you. Memories begin to flood you, one after another, overlapping with each other. The memory of skinning your knee as a child, and your mother cooing and calming you is forever twisted in your mind as her hands turn to liquid, the flesh melting away in a red rain that coats your leg. In their place, two snakes now extend from her elbows, swaying and snapping as your sweet mother tells you to be a big boy. They strike in tandem, one sinking it's fangs into your ankle, the other into your inner thigh. You start to cry, and your mother hushes you. It's okay baby, mama will take care of you. The snakes color changes from a sickening greenish-yellow, beginning to turn darker as they continue to apply greater and greater pressure to your body. The color continues to darken, turning slightly red as you watch them, your mothers smiling face watching you placidly. You begin to feel faint, and the snakes continue to shift to an ever-more crimson shade, and their bodies convulse slightly as they seem to be swallowing, swallowing, swallowing. See, that's better, isn't it Gary, your mother asks you, holding out a lollipop for you, but it's dripping with blood.

You cannot blink. You cannot move. Your vision fades to a grayish fog. Was the doctor furry before? There is thick fur on his knuckles as he withdraws his bloody instrument from the area just above your head, setting it to the side. He reaches up with two hands, and you feel an odd suction, a pressure on the top of your head, which fades as quickly as it came. He sets something down beside him, and reaches back over you. The suction returns, the pressure, so much pressure. His throat is mere inches from your mouth, if you could only just.. The first thing you have heard, a popping sound, reaches your ears. The man leaning over you lets out a whooping cry of triumph, sounding almost like a wild creature in his joy. As he stands upright, something large is in his hands, extremely bloody, dripping all over you. It's... It can't be.. It's a human brain. It's yours.

One of the visions you just had absolutely happened, exactly as you saw it, but obviously not to you. You have the sensation that the name "Arnold" has some significance, but it isn't as simple as that. The name is symbolic, somehow, and won't be the name of anyone in particular. One of the visions shows a fate that WILL come to you unless the events allowing it are averted. Something terrible is going to happen, soon, and your.. legion.. will fall, to an allegorical ambush, unless.. (Feel free to ask questions, either OOC or in PM's, for details or clues. I'll answer what I can. Sorry it took so long.)




Your hand almost touching the hawks head doorknob, you whip your head around to look at the man behind you. In his hands, he holds a black-painted stake, nearly three feet long. You invoke the power of Temporis, hoping that he will continue to relive the walk from the elevator to the door. In the brief moment before you start to move, you see the focus in his eyes fade, the snarl on his face returning to a pleasant but neutral expression. Autumns eyes go wide, and she tenses, ready to act. (Roll for initiative- Dex+Wits+1d10)

Autumn [roll0]
Visionboy [roll1]

Remember that any sharp jolt to his senses will bring him out of it, including a loud noise, or being bumped. Also note that Autumn is between you and the elevator. You can go through her, around her, or down the hallway in the other direction. The elevator door has closed, and is about twenty feet behind Autumn. The hallway goes for approximately two-hundred feet before ending at a door (probably a stairway). There are pairs of doors about every twenty to thirty feet. About halfway down the hallway, another hallway heads both left and right. There is also a door just outside the elevator that has a little sign showing stairs. The hallway is carpeted in a simple but plush design, there are pictures and mirrors on the walls sporadically, and there are two ornate and cushioned benches in the hallway, one about 50' from you, the other about 150'. There are three fire-extinguishers hanging in recessed alcoves that you can see, and near the intersection between hallways, there is a house phone sitting on a small but ornate glass table.



Selovas lunges and holds the man up. What.. What are you? The man is hoarse, and he scrabbles at his neck for a moment with his free hand, pulling a small crucifix out of his shirt. He isn't threatening you with it, just grasping it tightly, and kissing it. Go.. go with you? No, no I can't! I won't! Please, let go of me, I.. I didn't do anything. Leave me ALONE! The little man, in his forties and slender, is rasping in a terrified Spanish accent. His eyes dart to the control board as the elevator slows. DING. You have arrived on the 10th floor. The doors are about to open.

[Survy]

James looks at her doubtfully for a moment. As far as he knew, no one knew she was here. As long as that was true, taking her out of the house seemed fairly counterproductive, especially to her apartment building.

...On the other hand, she had to eat eventually, and he still wasn't sure how he was going to get some poor bastard back to the house unnoticed. He'd rather she didn't go out hunting alone regardless. Besides, she'd know the building at least.

Relenting, he says, "Alright. We'll swing by your place, i'll see if it's clear or not. If it is we'll go for it, if not i'll help you grab something else to snack on." Momentarily stopping to grab his jacket off the rack, he looks back at her with a half-amused expression. "Your building wouldn't happen to have rats would it? Annoying bird infestation? An old lady with 20 cats?"

[miinstrel]

Jason steps forward quickly to about a foot away from the simpering man, indicating for Selovas to let him go. "Listen you sniveling little fool, you do not interest me. I have far more important demons to battle and can't have you causing a commotion while I'm here. It will only be a few minutes. When we're finished you may go back to your mundane existence. Or you can cause the last scene of your life right now. The choice is yours." Jason turns to face the elevator door, straightens his shirt, and places his hands in his pockets.

As the jaws of the elevator open to the carpeted throat of the hotel, he sets the scene. "Could you show us to room 1003, please?" he requests, addressing his quivering friend.

I'd like to try using Auspex 2 to get a read on his aura with the goal of maybe getting a jump on him if he tries to bolt. Does that sound reasonable?
Diff 8: [roll0]

EDIT: ... well crap haha.

[Vetril]

Gary snaps back to reality with a terrified shriek.
Before he can realize what happened, his hands are already exploring the back of his head, touching, exploring, looking for that terrible hole. No, no! Calm yourself, Gary - it wasn't you!
He takes a deep breath, but still his mind is filled with the final, horrible moments of the vision. His body shakes, as he curls up, trying to forget what he just experienced.
His eyes are wide open, but they don't see. The world that surrounds him is little more than a blurred mix of colors, not that different from some of the pieces he has produced.
The painter instinctively reaches out, without even being conscious of what he is doing: his mind opens up to the cobweb, as he mentally screams words of warning to everyone who can listen: danger! Danger!
It takes some time for him to calm down.

Wits + Malkavian Time + 1 Willpower point (1 automatic success) to transmit through the cobweb, difficulty 9, 1 success = 2 words: [roll0], [roll1], [roll2], [roll3], [roll4], [roll5], [roll6].

1 success because the Willpower automatic success can't be denied by botches, so 2 words.

[Danteric]

Jeremiah glances towards the sign with the stairs, He just had to get away from her. If this was room 701, room 1003 must be upstairs. Jeremiah begins to run towards the stairs, attempting to rush past August, and hopefully meet up with the others. If this is an attempt to kidnap more kindred, he needed to let Caedral know.

5+[roll0]

[pife]

AWESOME, man!! Angela looks stoked. Lemme go change! She disappears into her room, pushing the door nearly shut. You can hear the rustling of clothes, and then the jingling of keys. She comes back out of her room in baggy carpenter pants, and a loose fitting T-Shirt of virulent green, extolling the virtues of "The Infectious Grooves". She tosses you a small set of keys with a dragon keychain. You drive, okay? My car is around the corner Her vehicle, an ancient and battered Toyota Camry of an uninspired brown sits in the parking lot of a rough apartment complex. Heavy bass emanates from several of the apartments, and the sound seems to echo in the parking lot. Several youths, in their late teens, perhaps early twenties, are standing under a streetlight at the curb, their breath fogging heavily as they stamp their feet for warmth. One of them eyeballs you openly as you open the door for Angela, who slides into the car and immediately starts rummaging through a CD case.

Your trip to Angela's apartment only takes about 20 minutes, due to the lack of traffic. Nicer than Mattapan, but not by much, her neighborhood is old and slightly run-down, but it doesn't have the same gang atmosphere. The streets are completely abandoned at this time of night, (approximately 1am). The building is long, only two stories. Angela points to one of the corner apartments on the second floor. That's it, 214. The gold key opens it. Shall I come with you while you check it out?

Regardless of your answer, make a Perception + Awareness roll. ]

And.. And then I can go, the man asks in a quavering voice. I take you to 1003, and you will leave me alone? Okay! He nods his head vigorously, and slides along the walls of the elevator, staying as far from you as he can toward the door, which opens smoothly. Walking briskly, almost jogging, the little man in the bellhop uniform rushes to the second door on the left, a wide door, shiny-clean, but unadorned save for the golden letters 1003 at eye level. Selovas follows you placidly, footsteps silent. This is it sir! The man, dripping perspiration, still tries to smile at you, but his success is nominal at best. Although he is literally trembling, a verse comes to mind. Corinthians, 16-13. Be on your guard; stand firm in the faith; be men of courage; be strong. Fumbling at his belt, he pulls a key card from it, attached to a key-keeper. Sliding the card quickly into and out of the lock, you hear a soft 'click', and he turns the handle, pushing it open for you, before stepping back. Good night? He is rubbing his palms on his trousers, and edging backwards away from you.

At first it appears to be totally dark inside, but then you can make out a candle on a table at the far end of the room, which is large. The floors appear to be of white marble veined with gray, and a mirror on the wall just inside the door reflects light into the room. Sitting at the end of the table nearest you, chair turned around to face you, is someone you certainly didn't expect.



http://i1294.photobucket.com/albums/b604/Pife/MahmoudHooshan_zps7b4c68e9.jpg (http://s1294.photobucket.com/user/Pife/media/MahmoudHooshan_zps7b4c68e9.jpg.html)

This is Mahmoud Hooshan. You have seen him twice, but you've never been introduced. The first time, he was at your presentation to the Prince. The second time, he was present at your first trip to Elysium. This is the Malkavian Primogen, and he's in the room where your secret meeting was to occur!



(I will have more once I find out who your message was to, but in the meantime... )

When you come to and curl up into a ball, you aren't sure how much time has passed. What you ARE aware of is the screaming of what sounds like almost every animal in the zoo. The elephants are trumpeting, you hear a lion roar, hundreds of birds squawking.. And gunshots. Pop. Pop.. poppoppop. And then from behind a hedge about 30 feet further into the zoo, you hear rapid, scampering footsteps.



While Visionboy stands unmoving, Autumn's reflexes are impressive. Recovering from her shock, she drops the folder she was carrying, and dives at your legs, attempting to tackle you.


Her Attack (vs Diff 7) [roll0]
Her Damage Roll [roll1]
Her Dex+Athletics Roll vs Diff 7[roll2]

Please make a soak roll (unless she misses), and a Dex+Athletics roll vs Diff 7 to avoid being taken to the ground (assuming she hits). So far, nothing will have woken Visionboy, but the knob on the door DOES start turning from the inside.

**Edit** She will do two points of bashing damage unless soaked (1 extra from extra success)

[Danteric]

Soak:[roll0]
Dex+ath: [roll1]
Going to run down the hall now and look for another set of stairs, or an open elevator, since the stairs here is opening.

[Danteric]

[roll0] Forgot to add a few extra dice incase of 10's :P

[Survy]

[roll0]
Just want to know if I spot anything before I answer.

Edit: Okay, I didn't spot anything with that, so i'll go ahead and do a post.

James looks about for a bit, and then steps out. "I don't want you out here by yourself. Better to get this done fast regardless. Just stay close to me." James steps around to open the door for her, still wary.

[miinstrel]

Jason's mind races as the door opens to reveal an unwelcome guest. What was a twice-damned psycho doing here? How did he know?!? Was it them all along? They always were a shifty bunch... Selovas is a good shot. Can we handle this? I doubt it. He's the freaking primogen after all. This isn't good. The bellhop completely slipped his mind as this much more pressing matter came to the forefront. Somewhere in the background a voice said 'good night' questioningly, but Jason's mind was turned inward toward that flickering candle.

He entered slowly, Selovas following closely behind, and closed the door. "I don't believe I've had the honor, Mr. Hooshan. I wish we could have met under more cordial circumstances. As I'm sure you know, I am Jason Hoydt, and this is Selovas." His fingers slide along the gilded pages. And they brought Daniel, and cast him into the den of lions. Now the king spake and said unto Daniel, thy Gods whom thou servest continually, they will deliver thee. The Malkavian must have a reason to be here. He remained guarded, but waited tensely for the primogen to speak.

[Vetril]

Gary is still terrified, but not enough to disregard his personal safety. He looks in the direction from which the footsteps come; his judgement tells him that whoever is getting closer might be the most immediate danger.
Almost immediately, the painter's sight becomes sharper and sharper, until it reaches superhuman levels. The night becomes brighter and brighter; he sees everything: every crack in the concrete, every microscopic irregularity of the metallic fence, every object visible down the road, for many hundreds of meters. Assuming that the painter isn't able to see who is arriving, he stifles a whimper and looks for a place to hide, hoping that the newcomer will be distracted by the noises of fireguns enough to disregard the Malkavian completely.
Oh, please. Just let me hide, and I'll be gone as soon as possible.

Gary uses Auspex 1 to empower his sight and look for who is approaching the gates. If he can see no one (maybe there is no line of sight), he will try to hide. Otherwise, he'll decide according to the appearance of the new arrival.

[pife]

You turn and sprint down the corridor away from Autumn and 'Visionboy', and you hear more people piling into the hallway from the door that just opened. Stealing a glance over your shoulder, and see that the two in the hallway that just attacked you have been joined by two more, large shoulderthumper types, both wearing poorly fitted polyester suits. One has a gun in his hand, and the other, a walkie-talkie.. You turn your head back around and make for the staircase door on the other side of the hotel, but can just barely hear the goon in the walkie talkie say, Hector, get ready, he's coming to you!


As noted before, about halfway down, the hallway branches both left and right, or you can keep going straight. You are positive that there is a staircase directly in front of you. It will take you the full round and the next to sprint to the stairwell door, open it, and then start going up or down. Or, at the end of this round, you can turn left or right at the intersection. Or, you can attempt to batter down one of the hotel room doors.




Angela hops out of the car, and actually looks a little bit excited, and she's fairly bouncing on the balls of her toes.. If there's someone in there, you gonna f' em up, dude? . The night is very quiet, without even the comforting sound of traffic. Somewhere off to the side of the building, a cat yowls, definitely in heat, and the streetlight you are parked under emits a low droning sound. As you step closer to the apartment building, you can faintly hear the sound of several televisions from inside, but you see and hear nothing out of the ordinary at all. You are currently at the stairwell that leads up one floor. From there, it is about a sixty foot walk to Angela's apartment door, which seems completely closed, and no lights are visible within.



The flabby Primogen's jowls wobble as he looks from you to Selovas. "Ees he for to eat?", Mahmoud asks hopefully. Letting out a deep sigh of regret, his dull eyes heavily shrouded, he addsI am already certain that the answer, eet is no. You deed not know I was coming, so how then to provide refreshment? Is Mahmoud late? Deed meeting start yet? He ***** his head sharply to the side, all illusions of sloth disbanded, and he stands abruptly. Looking at, no.. through you, he appears to concentrate for a moment. "Have you brought Mahmoud to the trap?", Mahmoud asks in his heavily accented English. Mahmoud is quiet for a moment, yet his fingers dance on his wide belly which is hardly contained by the sweater-jacket he is wearing. Many are angry, and they are coming to here, and one of mine is about to die. So sad. If only they had stayed with those who protect, eh? Mahmoud laughs suddenly and claps with delight. Oh! It ees very sneaky, they come to the here, and they want to play! We will wait, and they will come, and somebody is going to die! Mahmouds voice becomes high pitched and singsong from the word "we", and he seems truly excited.

Abruptly again, Mahmouds mood shifts, and he leans toward you, hands on his knees. But if you have brought them to face Mahmoud, he begins darkly, he ees going to have to be sooo unpleasant.



The footsteps skid to a halt just as your senses amplify immensely. You are nearly deafened immediately from the cacophony of animal screeches and roars, but through the pain in your head, you are able to discern heavy breathing. Not particularly fast breathing, just heavy and deep, sounding as though a bellows is pumping slowly. The sound of stone on stone scrapes loudly, and you hear a loud sound that reminds you of a flag whipping in the wind, followed by what could be the beating of huge wings.

A rush of wind buffets you in the face, though you see nothing, and a drop of blood falls from the sky to land on your cheek. It is cold and viscous, yet it smells divine. You can feel it in every microscopic pore of your face as it begins to slide toward your chin Make a Self Control Check please, Difficulty 5. You aren't particularly hungry, but the high pressure situation, your fear, and the absolute ambrosia of the blood on your cheek, right next to your nose. You have never smelled anything this.. different.. in your entire life or unlife.


I got kept in meetings all day, never got to add more to any of these, nor put in Sakacuron or GrassyGnoll's. I'm heading home and will finish there. Thanks for your patience guys, I won't make you wait that long again.

[Survy]

"If there's someone threatening. Other people live here. Though I guess at this time of night there's no reason for them to be out of their rooms." James begins to walk towards her room, still looking about. His hands seem to itch a bit as he considers extending his claws, but he restrains himself, nervous of any potential human witnesses. Ahhh. This whole job is a little too complex for me I think. Shaking his head a bit, he says, "Alright. We'll take what you want from your room, you can 'visit' your friendly neighbor, and then we're gone. Good and simple."

[miinstrel]

Jason had to tread lightly. He'd heard Mahmoud's moods were unstable at best, and he didn't want to risk his ire. The trap? What is he talking about; I didn't eve know he was comi-- It hit him. Mahmoud wasn't the only one who knew about this meeting. Jason was a minute or two late thanks to the little detour they had to take... perhaps the Brujah had already fallen to the mysterious predators. He had a very important question to ask... if they were able to meet at all.

"I would be a fool to lay a trap to capture a powerful primogen and then come alone. No, I'm afraid they are here for me. But they're coming to this room you say? How would you like to have a little fun? We can be sneaky too," he says with a devilish grin, the gears in his head beginning to spin.

Before I start asking questions, I tell Selovas to go to the room across the hall and see if it's vacant. If it is, great. If not... make it be. Quietly.

Let's see how much I can take advantage of his sight...
How many are coming?
How long until they arrive?
Is Caedral's pet coming too?
Does he have any of 'his own' in the building? If so perhaps they'd like to join us... the more the merrier.

Plan to come pending his answers. Feel free to make any necessary rolls.

[Danteric]

Jeremiah ran down the hallway as fast as his legs could take him. He wanted to get as much distance between him and the bodyguards as quickly as possible. Deciding the best bet would be to get to the stairs and head to the meeting room, Jeremiah begins rushing towards the stairs, but a heavy feeling filled his heart when he had heard the other guard speak to another on the radio. He hoped he could run into one of the Tremere he was supposed to meet, but then it hit him, What if it was the Tremere who planned this attack..?

Going to head to the stairs and go upwards, preferably towards the designated room.

[Vetril]

The impact of the drop of blood makes Gary instinctively look up. The scared vampire is ready to either fight or flee to ensure his own continued survival.
Then, the metallic smell of that single drop disorients the painter; it soothes him, inhebriating him enough to momentarily forget about the depths of his fear. He can tell it is blood, but at the same time it is unlike it. He passes his thumb on his cheek, collecting the liquid on his fingertip. Gary distractedly looks at it for a moment, before returning his attention to the direction from where the vitae came.
What is this?
Within the dark corners of his mind, the artist realizes that this is important. As the Malkavian's canines start to sharpen, he briefly considers the situation, going through his options:: he wants to leave, but this newfound treasure might well be worth taking some risks.
As the Malkavian's canines start to sharpen, he considers.

Self Control (vs DC 5): [roll0], [roll1], [roll2], [roll3].

Looks like a botch.

[pife]

James leads Angela up the stairs, and across to her door. Looking at it, nothing leaps out at you as being out of the ordinary. However, when you turn the key and push the door open, the dim light from the hallway illuminates the otherwise darkened apartment. It has been thrashed. Most of the furniture is torn and overthrown, books, cushions and knickknacks strewn on the floor, posters ripped from the walls. Angela gives a cry of dismay and streaks into the apartment, shouldering James aside. Triple layered blackout curtains hang shredded and mostly pulled from their hangers, the television has been smashed, and what was once an impressive collection of screens and computer equipment lies pillaged. Strangely, nothing at the computer desk appears to have been destroyed, but there are several 'holes' where you imagine more equipment once sat. "Nooooo," bawls Angela, "my baby!" She stands, shoulders slumped, her fingers tracing over areas of the desk where wires indicate other hardware once dwelt. They took everything! She turns to James, and the look on her face is so stricken, so pathetic, that it would have been reasonable to assume that she had lost a child or a best friend.

Elsewhere in the apartment, the story is much the same. It's hard to tell if destruction or discovery was the main purpose here. Either way, chaos is what remains. Angela's belongings are strewn haphazardly throughout the apartment. After a few moments of grief, she begins rummaging, selecting certain items of clothing, and, strangely, a Star Wars Stormtrooper action figure, which she quickly inspects and thrusts into the pocket of her jeans.

In the doorway between her bedroom and the short hallway leading to the bathroom and back to the living area/kitchen, Angela freezes, staring at the floor. Your gaze follows hers, and you see, barely peeking out from underneath a mishmash of clothing and pillow fuzz, a dark stain on the beige carpet. She lifts the shirt, a ragged blue scoop-neck T-Shirt proclaiming "Mother of Dragons". Beneath it is a thick dried puddle of blood. The stain did not spread larger than about a two foot area, but the thick shag carpet held it like a sponge. Flies disturbed by the movement settle back down on the black spot.



You can hear footsteps thundering behind you, though you have a fair lead. You sprint across the floor, and slam into the door at the other end, your hands automatically finding the bar that needs to be pushed to open it. The door flies open, and you hear the shriek of pain before you see the man recoiling in the stairwell, his left hand obviously broken. He had apparently been reaching for the door when you burst through it. Pain and surprise register in his eyes, and for just a moment, you think that he's forgotten about the pistol that he is holding in his right hand. He is dark skinned, with a thick black mustache, probably Hispanic, and he is wearing black jeans and a gray hoodie, a walkie-talkie hung from his front pocket. He is standing between you and the stairway down, but if you slide to your left, the stairwell leading up is free of obstacles.




Selovas nods once, and exits the room. Moments later you hear a door splintering. Presumably, Selovas is in the process of "vacant-ing" the room across the hall.

Eet ees never fun to do the killing, Mahmoud replies smoothly, though sometimes eet ees needed, yes? Mahmoud turns toward the candle, and closes his eyes as you begin to ask him questions.

They are geeting bolder, these ones, Mahmoud observes. These are a handful, servants, pawns trying to defeat our knights. They come soon, and Caedral, his decoy leads them here. The leetle one you let go has told them I am here, and now they will be desperate and enraged. Mahmoud smiles. Theese is good, yes? Ees only bad for if Mahmoud was where the furry cages are, Mahmoud would not have to say goodbye to one that has been with Mahmoud for many years. He stands up, his bulk belying his dexterous motions.

Gary's amplified senses recoil through every sense. Little golden flecks swim gracefully through the dark vitae.. Your fingers will barely come apart, this blood is so viscous. It feels more akin to superglue than anything else. The scent of it is hard to imagine, it is at once the most revolting and yet, most arousing aroma you've ever smelled. It is as though every desire, every guilty pleasure, every beloved memory, be it of candy apples when you were a child, the smell of a field of flowers, the scent of a lover's perfume, and a cesspool have all been combined into a dangerous cocktail of lust, need, hunger and guilt. It also reminds you of a sensation you haven't truly had since your heart still beat. When you would see or smell something to eat that looked delicious, you could feel that in your mouth, at the back corners of your tongue, and your salivary glands would begin to work overtime. Gary has that same sensation now. He can't resist putting his fingers into his mouth, and the sensation explodes off of his tongue, spreading like a drug throughout his entire body, Gary loses control..

)(Several weeks ago)

Rudolphs instructions were explicit. You are to go to Boston, and present yourself to the Prince, as a good Gangrel should. You are to cooperate with them in all things, and assist them in all ways. This you have done.

It is not common that we get one of your.. breed.. in Boston, whispers your companion. The setting is opulent, in the Back Bay area, on Commonwealth Avenue. Downstairs, the Clio restaurant is blessed to have the talents of renowned chef Ken Oringer, or so the signs outside proclaimed but here, in a heavily fortified third-story apartment, you find yourself face to face with the cream of the Boston Kindred. Marsilio Fortes, grandchilde of the Prince, has been tasked with introducing you, as the Gangrel have no Primogen in the city, and neither of the other two known Gangrel in town have the social graces to handle such an event. Marsilio is.. well, he's gorgeous, a young man with dark Italian skin, long flowing hair, and the chiseled features of a Greek God. His brilliantly white teeth shine as he smiles at you. He keeps you to the outskirts of the gathering, pointing out the names and titles of the most influential Kindred that have made an appearance tonight. This is a monthly gathering, you are given to understand, held in different locations each month, where the Prince addresses the 'common' folk. Four Primogen are in attendance, including Caedral Lorne, of the Brujah, who stays aloof and alone, Clare, the little black girl of perhaps eight to ten, her slight form ravaged by angry red pustules, who represents the Nosferatu, Lucrezia Ronzoni, Childe of the Prince and Primogen of the Toreador, and the enigmatic Ariana Latet, dressed in a fine purple dress and white shawl, who looks nothing like you would imagine a powerful Tremere elder to appear.

You must forgive us if we seem brusque, Marsilio apologizes. It has become apparent that nobody is going to pay much attention to you at all. Servants wander throughout the open-layout apartment, all dressed in revealing outfits reminiscent of ancient Rome, carrying trays of champagne flutes filled to the brim with what you are assured is premium vitae, still warm from the 'source'. A large red-haired giant of a man stands to the Prince's left, and Marsilio informs you that this is Thaddeus Winston, the Scourge of Boston. He, in turn, is flanked by two pale and angular women, tall and graceful, who lope around at his heels like silent ghosts. It is merely that there is a lot happening in the city at this time, and the Prince, he is attempting to take care of that nasty business. You may have heard, , he confides, that there have been a lot of.. incidents.. The agents of important Kindred have been disappearing, and the culprits have been very careful in covering their tracks. It is true, through the veneer of polite disinterest, you can see that these 'elites' are both nervous and agitated.

Your presentation is much less ceremonial than you would have anticipated. A bell chimes, and the gathering falls silent. Prince Barilla ascends to his 'throne', a huge heavily gilded chair draped with purple and gold flashing. Barret Jensen, the Brujah Seneschal of Boston, calls for order. As our next order of business, a member of Clan Gangrel begs an audience with our eminent Prince, and begs admittance into our ranks. The servants gracefully exit the main room, leaving only about a dozen assorted Kindred to bear witness. Ms. Feltracco, the Prince's voice is a deep baritone, calm, and sounding comfortable with command. You have requested, and have been granted, admittance into my city. While within it's borders, you will comport yourself with dignity and appropriate respect for your Elders. You will comply with each and every one of the Traditions, and will do nothing that threatens the Masquerade. You are granted rights to the communal feeding grounds of Mattapan, Downtown and South Boston. You will contain your hunting to those areas, unless you have been granted permission to enter the recognized Hunting Grounds of other Kindred.

Marsilio will be in contact with you, to help you assimilate to the area, and to answer any questions that you may have. It may interest you to know that you are here in a provisionary status for ninety days, during which, Marsilio will share in the responsibility of ensure that you do not step out of line. I apologize for the brevity of these proceedings, but there is pressing business to attend. If you will excuse us. With that, and without being asked to speak a word, you are ushered out of the apartment and into the hallway. Marsilio looks puzzled, but attempts to put a bright face on things. Well, there is usually a bit more ceremony than that Pauline, please do not think poorly of it. As I mentioned, there is a lot going on at the moment. He shares with you the locations of Elysium, which include a Kindred-only nightclub, as well as the entire campus of Harvard University. He informs you that your Haven has been noted, and that you do also have Hunting Rights within several blocks of your apartment as well.


Tonight-
There is a knock at your door. Through the peephole, you see a slender person, tall and wearing a heavy jacket and jeans, their face covered almost completely by a long grayish-brown scarf. As you look, they knock again, this time harder. It is about half an hour to midnight




Your arrival to the city has been largely uneventful. You were brought to the Prince privately by Sree-naj-bok, for your presentation. She speaks to him in a very casual manner, you notice, but his other servants treat him with vast respect, and no small amount of fear. Sree doesn't seem to be intimidated in the least by him, however, and he is relatively warm in his discussion with her. Very informally, while he has two servants attend to his fingernails, the Prince informs you that you are welcome in Boston, and that Sree has been indicating that you will be assisting her in some of her investigations. He thanks you for your service, and implies that rewards for good performance will be abundant.

You get settled into your warehouse Haven, and your Herd busies themselves attempting to find employment, and ensuring that the warehouse is as safe and comfortable as they can. You are granted the typical Hunting Grounds around Mattapan, South Boston and parts of the Downtown area, and given the address of Elysium. Sree has you on speed-dial, and occasionally checks in with you to see if there is anything she can do to make your assimilation smoother. She even invites you out for karaoke one night.

Tonight, however, she calls, and she is frustrated. Yo Malic, she hollers when you answer your phone. Needja to get your ass over to the Docks in Charleston, Dock 14. I got a guy I need you to talk to. We think that he's been participating in the attacks. I have a couple of boys keeping him quiet, but I need you to find out what he knows.. You in, dude?

[miinstrel]

He could only imagine how that little man had described him. Damn, I knew I should have brought him in here! It was too late for regrets. A handful were coming. So probably four or five in total. More or less even odds, and he had a primogen on his side... even if he was a little off.

He heard the door crack as the hinges gave way. That's quietly? The whole floor probably heard that!

"I take no delight in the death of the wicked." He paraphrased. "In his trespass that he hath trespassed and in his sin that he hath sinned... in them shall he die," he says agreeably. "Never pleasant, but wholly necessary." Ezekiel 18:23-24. Far too many parallels to the messages I've been receiving. Am I next for my trespasses? He shook the thought from his mind. Much more pressing matters to attend to than speculating about his immortal soul.

He stepped into the hallway checking both directions for signs of these approaching pawns. There was a stairwell near the elevator. That's one possible point of arrival. The elevator was another, but he couldn't do much about that unless...

"Mahmoud, are they coming up the stairs or the elevator?"

[Survy]

James eyes narrow at the blood stain, half nervous and half puzzled. Looks like they wrecked the place, but the door wasn't broken in. So either they picked the lock, came in through the window, or had a key. Could have swiped one from the landlord I guess. And someone got cut here it seems like.

Momentarily glancing over towards the window to check for scratches, James feels an awful nervousness at leaving his back exposed, but then feels compelled to approach the distraught Angela.

"Jesus...look, Angela, i'm sorry. This is awful. We'll get out of here, i'll grab you a drink, so don't worry about that. But do you think you know who came in here? Anybody have a key to this place besides you?" He looks over towards the door shortly, nervous about his only exit.

I can do any rolls in the OOC thread if you want them done by the next post.

[Vetril]

Gary hears his own heart beating like a loud drum. Strange: it is usually silent, but not now. The world in front of him elongates, as his perceptions are painfully pushed to their limits. Inside his mind, there is only one word: more.
The Beast is out of its cage, and Gary can't do anything to regain control, as reason and caution abruptly disappear. The painter looks like a dangerous maniac, but to be fair, he doesn't even realize what is happening: comprehension will only come later.
Forgetting about the nearby footsteps, the vampire focuses his attention upwards once more. Where did that incredible blood come from? Everything else is irrelevant - Sythica, the Scourge, the redheaded woman... They don't matter. Only that wonderful blood matters.
He frantically look around to locate the source; then, he'll try to drain it completely.
Where is it? Where? Does it hide? Does it fly? Where did it go? It's mine!

[Danteric]

Jeremiah pushed open the door in a rush, running past the man who was now howling in pain. Jeremiah rushed up the stairs as quickly as he could, he had to get some distance between him and the guards, and a way out of here if need be, but for now he had to get to that room, he wouldn't leave without at least seeing what he was sent here for.

Jeremiah kept running up the stairs as fast as he could, he would get to the right floor and rush down the hallway as quickly as he could, he couldn't waste any time, if they were coming after him with stakes, the fear of what they'd do after made him cringe.

[pife]

A muffled bang, followed quickly by another can be heard in the hotel room. While it is possible that a car down on the street backfired, or someone in a nearby room dropped something, you've been around long enough to know that those were gunshots. Mahmoud, he hears a ding. Eet ees both, I theenk. Mahmoud looks at you, his eyes intense. These men who come, they must find either nothing, or they must all be kept from reporting. Do you weesh to fight them, or shall they find the room empty? Mahmoud can hide you, and we can walk out of here. This choice, I leave to you. Mahmoud prefers to fight on hees own terms, yes? But your masters, they weel be angered eef you flee, no? Since Mahmoud, he was not invited, he leaves this choice to the host, hmm?

Mahmoud is possessed of unearthly calm, as though he is asking you whether you would like you would like the red tablecloth, or the blue. His eyebrows arch, as though he is reasoning something out. But eef we leave, eet is likely that Caedral's pawn, he weel be sacrificed.



Angela's eyes are wide as she surveys the damage to her apartment. She seems distracted, barely hearing you. She kneels down next to the congealed blood, rooting around in the detritus, and comes out with a beer bottle that had fallen onto it's side. It is not completely empty. "Red Stripe", proclaims the bright red and white label, though it too is spattered with blood. Marcus, Angela whispers. He's the landlord, he was in here.. he.. he had the key. Looking up at you, still holding the bloody bottle, she asks, Why was he in here? And where in the F**K is my computer? She stands, looking furious, but, as you look at her, her expression changes from anger, to confusion, and then, to fear.. She raises her arm, to point, and her mouth has fallen open. You turn to follow her finger, and, set into the corner of the room, near the ceiling, a small camera is mounted. A blinking red light winks at you repeatedly from near the lens. That's.. That's not mine. They f**cking know we're here!!


Gary is inundated with sounds and sensations. His head is spinning, he feels dizzy and off balance. Animals all throughout the zoo are screaming loudly, the aviaries are a cacophony of squawks, lions and cougars roar, and above all other sounds, the great apes howl in confusion and rage. Above the din, you hear a cracking sound, like a thick and heavy flag in high wind. It is distant, it is.. over.. there! Garys head whips to the left, and sees, for a split second, a wing. One single wing, perhaps twelve feet across, shaped like a bat, as it passes briefly through the light of a lamppost. Nearly thirty feet in the air, and almost a hundred feet away, and getting more distant. At the same time, his amplified hearing can pick up the sound of leather shoes on pavement. Twisting his head back to the right, he is in a perfect position to see an overweight night-watchman rumble around the hedge, red-faced and out of breath. Hey, he pants, what the hell are you doing here? You can't be in here after dark! He reaches for a walkie-talkie attached to his waist. Hey Mike, this is Evan, come in please

Jeremiah rushes up the steps, hurdling one and sometimes two steps at a time. To make it to the meeting location, he has three floors to go, and he uses the rail to wrench himself around the bends in the stairwell.


[roll0]
[roll1]

Multiple Actions, split his dice pool, firing twice-
Damage: Heavy Pistol (rolling one extra die damage each, in case of additional successes, reduced each roll by 1 die due to "injured" status of shooter, rolling at Diff 7 due to Jeremiah moving and obstacles (rails) between shooter and target)

[roll2]
[roll3]



Jeremiah is pelted with chips of concrete as the cramped staircase is rocked by the booming sound of two gunshots. Both rounds miss, allowing Jeremiah to ascend two floors. Below, he can hear the door slam open once more, and the sound of multiple feet pounding up the steps can be heard.

You can make it up the final floor and open the door on 10 next round. There are at least four people in the stairwell below you, some two floors down, but at least one is only one floor below.

[miinstrel]

What in the hell?!? This was ridiculous. It was supposed to be a quiet meeting! His voice rumbled with frustration as he thought. These were certainly not favorable conditions as Mahmoud said, but he couldn't go back to Marco as a coward. And then he'd have to explain that Mahmoud was there. No, staying was the best course. Besides, his orders were to meet the Brujah. He couldn't very well skip that part. If there were gunshots in the stairs that means Caedral's boy was both alive and not a part of this. He could be trusted. And trustworthiness was the most important quality in an acquaintance right now. Gunshots also meant the police would be here soon enough. This had to end quickly.

"We should stay, but perhaps you could hide us anyway? We can at least get the jump on them. One thing to do first though..." He rushes out into the hall and toward the elevator. "Hey!" He shouts at Selovas as he runs past. "Our friend will be coming out first. Guns out. None of the others leave. Understand?" As he gets to the elevator he pushes his fingers into the narrow slit and tries to pry the doors open. If he can do this in time, anyone in the elevator will instantly become a non-issue...

Not sure how long this all will take, so feel free to spread it over as many turns as needed...

Running to the elevator door and prying it open. Spending a willpower for a success.
Strength (diff 7?): [roll0] +1 success

So you know where this is going, next action will be to manifest Hands of Destruction 3. Can burn through 1/4" of steel plate per blood point spent. I'll spend as many as needed to melt the elevator cable and send it hurtling however many stories down to the ground floor.

[Vetril]

Gary keeps his attention focused on the flying creature. He has reverted to the feral mindset that lurks within each of the kindred; ignoring the human guard, he starts running, trying to chase the creature that carries that powerful blood - or at least, not lose it in the night.
I can be there as soon as it lands, if I am quick enough - he thinks.
The malkavian quickly picks up the pace, moving as fast as he can. The artist is determined to put his hands on more of that vitae; and if he has to cause a ruckus to do it, so be it.

[Survy]

James immediately reaches for his Beast, and lengthens his fingernails into razor-sharp claws. He fills his muscles with power, ready to spring into action He swiftly approaches the door, readying himself to open it. Looking back at Angela, Jame's voice comes out almost in a growl."Keep behind me. Get down if anyone comes at us on our way out until i've taken care of them. Once we're outside, we'll break for the car. Hopefully it's still working. If not we'll sneak away from there."

Burning three blood points, one for Feral Claws, one for a Stamina dot, and one for a Strength dot.

[Danteric]

Jeremiah winces as his ears begin to ring from the bullets hitting the wall, they were much closer then he would've liked, and he doubted they would miss again. Rushing up the stairs towards the final door, Jeremiah hopes that the people he was supposed to meet were there, and that they weren't caught in the same trouble as him, or worse yet, they were the ones who planned this. Reaching the top of the stairs, Jeremiah pushes the door open, and begins to head down the corridor towards the general direction of the room, and hoped for the best.

[pife]

Mahmoud nods, his jowls wobbling slightly as he does so. Wheen you act, eet weel make you veesable again, he explains.


[roll0]


Mahmoud reaches into his pocket, and retrieves a grenade. His eyes take on a maniacal cast, and he grins at you, his droopy eyelids parting to reveal a wide-eyed, manic gaze. Theese ees just in case. They will not take Mahmoud alive!! Still grinning, Mahmoud begins to fade from sight, eventually becoming completely invisible. Looking down at your own hands, you realize that you too, have disappeared from view. They weel be here soon, Mahmoud promises.

You rush out of the room, slightly disconcerted at not seeing your own arms and legs as you run. You call out for Selovas, who pokes his head back out of the room across the hall. He cannot see you, but he nods silently, and in his hands, a large silver semi-automatic pistol appears, almost as if by magic. He slinks back into the shadows in a crouch. You jam your fingers into the tiny gap between the outer doors, and are able to pry them open just a bit. Readjusting your grip, you are able to shove the outer doors all the way open. At the far end of the hall, behind you, you hear a door slam, and can hear heavy footsteps pounding ever closer.




Angela whips around the room, unearthing piles of clothes, kicking and casting about as she looks for something. Finally, she emerges with a large wooden baseball bat, the handle wrapped heavily in black electrical tape. Faster than your eyes can follow, she begins unwinding the tape, and you realize that the handle has been sharpened to a wicked point. She drops the wad of tape on the ground, her eyes wild, but her voice steady. Okay. Stay behind you. Going to the car, Hopefully it sneaks. Got it! Her eyes flick momentarily to your fingers, where the razor sharp claws now protrude.

You step back outside into the hallway warily, looking for any obvious danger, and finding none. From a distance, you can hear tires squealing, but it's probably a couple of blocks away. A dog, a large dog by the sound of it, chooses this moment to begin barking behind the apartments.


Please make two Perception + Alertness rolls. The first is for what you see. The second, for what you hear.




Your enhanced senses narrow until you can only see the spot of darkness in which the wing disappeared. Your mind races, coherent thought all but lost as you begin to sprint, heedless of the portly guard chasing you from behind and calling out for you to stop. Your fangs extend involuntarily, and you barrel through a hedge, barely slowing as the branches snap and poke at your skin and clothing You burst out from the other side in a small explosion of leaves, and for a moment, in their chaotic fluttering, you see a doorway. No, it is an elevator door, surrounded by concrete walls and graffiti. You see a tall shadow in flickering dim electric lights, and a clawed hand gently press the "down" button. Without breaking stride, and without realizing it, you are veering to your left. You are nearing the gates of the zoo, whipping past panicked animals, ignoring them completely, but beyond the twelve foot wrought iron fence, across the zoo's parking lot.. there is a parking structure of five stories. Covered in graffiti.

The footsteps behind you fall further away, but you hear a huffing voice call, Mike, he's heading for the east fenceline, Get over to the.. pant, pant East parking lot, and.. pant, pant call the cops..


You feel like you have gained a second or two on your pursuers, as the stairs shake slightly under the weight of several men rushing up them. You throw open the door, and begin sprinting down the hallway.. Looking quickly at the numbers, you realize that your target is nearly all the way at the other end. Your attackers will have made the top of the stairs by the time you have reached it.. You can only hope that their aim is still poor. Pounding down the hallway, you barely notice that the elevator doors at the far end begin to open... but.. it is only the outer doors that open, leaving the ugly unpolished metal inner doors facing you. There are two doors near the elevators standing open, one on either side of the hall. The meeting was supposed to take place in the room to your left.

[Survy]

James takes in the night as he exits the building, glowing red eyes easily piercing the darkness. He cautiously keeps Angela close as he makes his way towards the call, trying to predict where an attack could come from.

Okay, let's see if I can manage to not cancel all my successes with 1s this time.
[roll0]
[roll1]

[miinstrel]

His head flicked back just barely in recognition of the noise at the far end of the hall, not enough to show his face. Not the door I was expecting him from, but this still works. Stupid double elevator doors. What's the point? Jason, having opened the outer door with some effort, strains his arms once again to open the inner door. He hoped he had enough time. This wouldn't go well if he opened the door and was greeted by several armed assailants.

Is it possible to hear how far away the elevator is? In case it is...
Percep+Alert: [roll0]

Assuming the elevator isn't practically on our floor, prying open the door again. One willpower for a success.
STRENGTH: [roll1] +1 from WP

If he can tell the elevator is definitely too close to complete his plan, he'll retreat into the room with Mahmoud silently cursing himself for asking so many questions instead of acting.

EDIT: oooh good thing i used a WP. Was debating whether I felt lucky... apparently I don't.

[Danteric]

Looking over at the door, he noticed the numbers 1003 on it, the room he was sent for. Running over to the door as quickly as possible, Jeremiah hoped he could throw off his pursuers, and find the Tremere. The thought of this still being a trap lingered in his mind, would he be caught like the parasite he is, at the mercy of whoever was controlling these ghouls? Jeremiah shook away the thought, he had to hope, he had to reach the door.

[pife]

You make it down the stairs, a nervous Angela in tow. The crisp air carries sound well, and it is obvious that the squealing tires are heading in your direction. Whether they are coming directly here is unclear, but the car, which sounds like a high performance engine at this point is drawing nearer and is likely only a block away. Picking up the pace, your feet crunching on gravel, you begin to reach for the keys to Angela's car in your pocket. Something about the car doesn't look right. You freeze. As you stare, you can see that the car shifts just slightly on it's suspension. Angela bumps into the back of you, and yelps as she jumps. Sorry, wasn't looking where I was going.. What.. What are you looking at?
Her gaze follows yours, but she doesn't appear to notice anything. What is it? What do you see?



The first door slides open smoothly, if not easily. You set your fingers into the crevasse between the inner doors, and find that you cannot find purchase. You strain for a moment, to no avail, and you hear the elevator begin to ascend from several floors below. You hear the pounding of footsteps behind you in the hallway, and hope that it is Jeremiah. The gunshots, though muffled, echo strangely in this place. You are about to give up on the elevator door when you remember..

Psalms 88- 2Let my prayer come before thee: incline thine ear unto my cry; -3 For my soul is full of troubles: and my life draweth nigh unto the grave. -4 I am counted with them that go down into the pit: I am as a man that hath no strength: Your fingers relax, and your stresses fall away as you surrender your will to the Father of All, and the door slides open with a long, shuddering creak, the cables inside the shaft quivering as the emergency features stop the car where it sits. A faint smell of ozone and grease wafts past your nose from the shaft. You quickly grab a decorative trash-can from its position immediately outside the elevator doors, turn it onto it's side, and allow the outer doors to close onto it, holding it in place, and holding the doors at least two feet apart.

Turning around, you see Jeremiah sprinting down the hallway toward you, and, behind him, the door to the stairwell that was swinging shut again slams open, and the doorway is filled with two large bodies. One of them holds a gun in both hands as he braces in preparation of firing at Jeremiah's back.



The door that you seek stands wide open, and, as you watch, the elevator doors just beyond it open. For a moment, you fear that your assailants have also managed to get in front of you, but then you are able to see that the elevator is not on this floor, seeing the cable and the masonry walls of the elevator shaft. Even stranger, you see a trashcan move by itself to prop the doors open.

Now that you have neared it, you see that the door on the right side of the hallway has been kicked in, judging from the damaged and splintered doorframe. A pair of dark eyes can be seen lurking in the shadows just beyond. They meet yours, then slide off, looking behind you down the hallway. The light of the hallway glints off of a large pistol in this shadow's hand.

You hurl yourself into the room to your left, a bullet ripping a hole into the wall less than two feet from your head, finding yourself in a large, opulent suite. Italian marble tile lines the floor, and you can see the reflection of several mirrors on the walls. Across the room, through an arched doorway, you can see the soft glow of lights outside the sliding glass door whose curtains have been drawn up, and it is from this illumination that you can see a fair-sized table with six chairs sitting in the nearest open area. Off to your right, a small sitting room holds a sofa, love seat and plasma screen television attached to the wall.

[miinstrel]

This would be entirely too close, but as Mahmoud said, no one could be allowed to leave... except the one they would hopefully take with them to get some answers. The bullet announced its arrival with a flash and a crack sending splinters of paint and wood into the hall. They would have a perfectly clear shot at him once he melted the cables, but he could survive a bullet or two with his unholy toughness. Several more ghouls with several bullets each? Likely not. Hopefully Selovas would be able to draw their attention or take one of the gunmen down.

The cables were further away than he expected, and the trash can holding the door open didn't give him as much footing as he would have liked. He glanced down the shaft at the car below. It looked like it was between floors, but they would still be able to pry the doors open and escape if he didn't act quickly. He stepped over the trash can, balancing on the edge of the precipice with one hand grasping the heavy interior door for support. He stretched his other arm out toward the center. This was all the more difficult without being able to see just where his hand was. Almost... have it... There! His fingers wrapped around the first cable and he fingered the rest into his grasp a few moments later.

Jason focused his mind, sending a surge of blood into his right hand. The cable began to sizzle and steam as droplets of acid excreted from the pores in his palm. The elevator wasn't far down, perhaps they could hear him. Leviticus seemed appropriate. He spoke, his voice crescendoing and his tone carrying the crazed passivity of a man of conviction passing judgement. "And they shall fall one upon another, as it were before a sword, when none pursueth: and ye shall have no power to stand before your enemies!" To the unfortunate souls in the steel cage, his voice likely sounded as God's, echoing down from above with righteous vengeance. Jason took great pleasure at being able to emulate him so.

As the cable gave way and the elevator dropped, his arm rippled back into existence followed by the rest of his body. He snapped his head around and stared heatedly at the men at the far end of the hall over Jeremiah's shoulder. You're next...

Manifesting Hands of Destruction 3: Burn through 1/4" of steel plate for each blood point spent. Can spend up to 3 this turn and will use as many as needed (probably all 3).

Did some brief research and it looks like elevator cable is typically 5/8" in diameter but goes as high as 11/16" for larger elevators and/or taller buildings. Hoping I can get this done in one turn, but at least they'll be delayed trying to get out if it takes two.

[Vetril]

Foreseeing a conflict in the immediate future, Gary starts to consume his own blood to enhance his own physical strength.
His muscles involuntarily tremble as unnatural power surges through his body.
He keeps running, trying to guess where the monstrous stranger might step out of the elevator. The lowest floor?
I'm coming for you!
Without stopping for a second, the frenzied vampire looks for the path that will allow him to continue his pursue in the swiftest way.
As he examines his surroundings, a part of the lunatic's mind rushes ahead, considering the situation at a vertiginously fast speed.
Why does a flying creature need to go to a parking lot? It could just fly away in the night.


Gary will use 3 blood points in the next 3 rounds to raise his Strength to 5 for the duration of the scene.

[pife]

From within the elevator, you hear two voices.. Why the F*&K did the elevator stop? How the hell should I know, push the button again, you idiot, did you bump the emergency stop, you fat bastard? Hey screw you, I don't have to take that crap from you. Evelyn said I was in charge here, so shut the f&$k up.. Hey.. Do you smell something?? Something burning? WAAAAAAAHAHHHHH

You summon the power of your blood, recalling Exodus 24, which states "And my wrath shall wax hot, and I will kill you with the sword; and your wives shall be widows, and your children fatherless." The metal turns hot, becomes malleable in your grasp, and begins to stretch, like taffy. Quickly, it reaches it's breaking point, and the cable pops apart, sending the elevator shaft plummeting.. for about ten feet. With the squeal of tortured metal, the emergency failsafe brakes are applied, small pads on the inner rails that the elevator rides on grabbing hold and stopping the car before it goes very far. The upper portion of the cable whips out of sight, and you can hear the pulley system screaming as the counterweight pulls the cable up, and through. A satisfying crash, muted but very obvious tells you that the counterweight has crashed to the ground. The screaming abruptly stops, and you can hear the men inside scrambling, yelping, and scrabbling at the doors, while behind you, you can hear the sound of several pairs of feet thundering down the hall toward you. WHAT THE HELL, DID YOU SEE THAT? Obviously, they could see the cable turn orange and break, but it would seem that Mahmoud's invisibility has held, at least for the moment.


You call upon the power of your blood to boost your physical strength. It is the matter of only seconds to leap up, and pull yourself over the wrought iron fence, at which point you leap down and begin sprinting across the parking lot and across the street. Behind you, in the zoo parking lot, you hear a vehicle screech to a halt, but you are too consumed with your prey to pay it much mind. Hey, get back here!. The buzzing of a gnat in your ear, no more. You bolt into the parking structure, surprising and terrifying a pair of teenagers covered in gang tattoos, both male, as they were kissing and fondling each other in the darkness of the "abandoned" parking garage. Hey, guero, what f*&k is wrong with you!? Holy s&*t, did you see his teeth?. More gnats. You pause for a moment, head whipping back and forth as you seek your quarry.. The parking lot is mostly deserted, the empty spaces smiling at you like the gaps in a speed-freaks mouth. Quiet vehicles sit , seeming to quiver in fear as your eyeballs tremble from the exertion and need. There. Almost directly across from you is a doorway, likely for a stairwell, and an elevator. The red digital display atop it reads "2". You tear across the pavement, fangs fully extended and slam the call button for the elevator. It is still on "2", you barely notice.

After what seems an eternity, "ding", and the door slides open with a squeal. It is empty. Almost. In one corner, there is an empty 20 oz bottle of Mug Root Beer.. and three drops of fresh blood, near the center of the car.

[miinstrel]

Emergency brakes... of course... He shook his head once with self-indignation. I bet Kara wouldn't have missed a detail like that. The sparks shot from each side of the elevator. They must be connected to the same mechanism... he hoped. If he could just get a visual of it... The elevator wasn't flush with the wall thanks to the service ladder, but the shadowy shaft left a lot to the imagination. Squatting and peering down, he slides his right hand into his pocket fondling the two rusted nails there as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, his pupils elongating to ones more similar to a cat's.

If it looks like I could get a better view by moving to the ladder I'll do so first (assuming there's actually a ladder :smallwink:).

Activating Auspex 1 and presuming I'll need a perception check to see if the emergency brakes are even visible. If they are, I'll activate Machine Blitz on the brakes to try and disengage them.

Percep+Alert (3+2): [roll0]

[Danteric]

Jeremiah runs over to the table, pushing it against the door, "This should buy me some time.." he mutters, as he begins pushing more of the furniture into the door way. He didn't even have a moment to register everything that was happening, when suddenly a loud screeching noise filled the room. What the heck was that.. he thought, hoping it wasn't more guards coming to stake him. Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he dials Caedrals number, hoping to get a hold of him to warn him it was a trap.

[Vetril]

Gary looks at the elevator in disbelief for a few seconds; his face is that of a man that has just seen what is perhaps the most important chance of his life disappear under his own eyes, just as one of the tricks performed by stage magician. Where? Where! The artist makes a conscious effort to consider the possible explanations. Suddenly, it dawns on him.

"Of course. He got off the elevator on floor 2."

The painter feels rage mounting within, as his target continues to elude him; nonetheless, he gets inside the elevator and presses the button for floor 2.
Unable to stand still, he shifts his weight from one foot to the other, letting his gaze randomly explore the boundaries of his surrounding.
Then, as he waits for the machine to reach its destination, Gary's attention focuses on the little blood that is left on the floor. With a sudden urge, he kneels next to what might be another treasure... More vitae left by the monster, delicious and addictive?
Frantically, the vampire gathers one of the drops with his right thumb; he immediately brings the single drop of liquid to his mouth and sucks it without a second thought.

[pife]

You begin to peer into the semi-darkened shaft with suddenly enhanced vision. You can see perfectly in the dim light, down to the minute detail of the miniscule crimps in individual wires where it was held with pliers. You begin to reach your hand out toward the ladder in to the far right hand side of the shaft, but stop. Atop the car is a mass of cables and actuators.. the central nervous system of the cab. Reaching out with your mind, it is childs play to cause every system in the elevator to catastrophically fail. With a click, the emergency braking system of the elevator disengages, sending the elevator plummeting into the darkness. By the time you have turned around to see three pistol-wielding assailants reach the door to the room you were in, a reverberating crash echoes up the shaft, shaking the entire building slightly. Their heads whip around at the sound. "What the f*#k is going on here?", one of them asks, the largest by a fair margin. A slender and slightly built woman in a professional looking skirt and high heels snarls and says Head in the game Luis, get this door open, NOW! As all three focus on the door, and "Luis" sets himself, prepared to kick the door down, you see the door across the hall, just behind them, glide silently open, and the barrel of a pistol is extended from inside.




After hearing the metallic shriek of tortured metal, you shove first the table, then other furniture in front of the door. You think you hear a chuckle behind you. You start to turn, and then you both hear and feel a muted crashing sound that jiggles the floor beneath you. Through the door, you hear
"What the f*#k is going on here?", in a heavy Hispanic accent, followed by a woman's angry voice Head in the game Luis, get this door open, NOW!

Perception + Awareness Diff 7
Perception + Alertness Diff 6
And a straight Intelligence roll-


More than rage fills Gary, as the elevator begins it's interminably slow ascent. The sensation can more nearly be considered to be pain.. a deep, gnawing, burning hunger deep in your center. You would swear that the center of your body is radiating heat like a furnace right now, and, where you still alive, you know that sweat would be pouring off of you. Your mind's eye flashes back to the most succulent meals you ever consumed in life.. You were once feted by the cream of Boston's society, in your living days, a painting commissioned by a socialite trust-fund baby having gotten wild reviews by the local bourgeoisie. You were whisked to one amazing catered party after another, each trying to outdo the last, each, graced by famed five-star chefs, and each of whom tried to spoil you with their most refined and dazzling dishes. You have always fondly recalled those memories, those meals, as the highlight of your culinary life. Garbage. You recall with even greater clarity, the first vitae that ever crossed your lips, that of your sire, Sythica, as she made you what you are today. You remember how you clung to her wrist, lapping at the exquisite taste, feeding the roaring Hunger in your belly with this amazing concoction that defied explanation. Dishwater. Your tongue is still tingling from the tiny drop you rubbed from your cheek. It is still shooting keen, piercing sensations all throughout your body, and you shudder uncontrollably.

Is this elevator STILL going to level TWO? Yes. It seems as though it has been an eternity already, as you suddenly focus on the tiny pyramid of scarlet drops near your feet. The elevator begins to slow, your destination nearly reached, and you bend down quickly, bringing your now dampened and soiled finger to your mouth after having rubbed the point of the pyramid.

Your eyes bulge, and, though you don't breath any longer, you gasp. It is. It is most CERTAINLY the same blood, the same nectar, the same ambrosia. You were only vaguely aware before of the vitae that you had expended, both in the last minutes, but also, within the last two days. And though you crave more, your Beast demanding that you drain this joybringing vessel completely, you feel as though you were carrying your full complement of vitae. Yes, all of the vitae you have expended, it's ability to power your abilities has been restored absolutely. But, like a glutton who cannot leave merely because he is "full", you are inclined, no, you are REQUIRED to finish this meal!

Ding.

The door squeaks open, and you leap out, crouching, realizing vaguely that two more drops of liquid perfection lay behind you. Beneath the roaring chaos of your burning need, the question "From what manner of creature does this bonne bouche derive?", can barely be considered. The second level of the parking garage is even less full that the first. However, as your head spins, almost as though it were on a swivel, listening, looking.. you hear a car engine start on the second aisle. The sound comes from perhaps 100 feet away, maybe less.


If anything, your second taste of this blood is even more intoxicating than the first, heightening your need further. Though it may occur to you as a player, it does NOT occur to Gary that he might be sailing down the path of a Blood Bond. (For the record.. He's not.. Gary can tell, this is neither human nor Kindred vitae).

Your Blood Pool is full. Any vitae that you have expended since the last time you fed.. has just been replaced. With two drops.

Make a Self Control Roll, Diff is 10 - your Willpower. Pass, and you can continue to seek the blood.. Fail, and Gary's brain is going to Never Never Land for a bit.


http://i1294.photobucket.com/albums/b604/Pife/acd48e96-c1a4-40b3-a6a1-e51163c005ec_zps93bfc877.jpg (http://s1294.photobucket.com/user/Pife/media/acd48e96-c1a4-40b3-a6a1-e51163c005ec_zps93bfc877.jpg.html)

[Vetril]

So close!
Gary starts running as soon as he hears the engine roar to life. As of now, his appearance is starting to resemble that of the most deranged of his clan - his spirited eyes are wide open, his hair dishevelled, his clothes a mess. The painter's steps echo in the large empty spaces as he follows the sound of the car to orient himself.
As the Malkavian runs, he vaguely wonders if he should have taken some time to take the other two drops of alien blood. What if someone was stealing them from him right now, as he was busy chasing the creature?
Gary recognized the thought as absurd, but the mere possibility made him uncomfortable. He had earned those drops. He wasn't going to let anyone take them away.
The artist snaps back to the present as he is forced to go around a larger vehicle. He continues running in the general direction of the noise, leaping above cars as needed, thanks to his enhanced strength.
Closer, closer. The vampire is supremely focused on the goal, which is finally within his grasp. He looks around, trying to locate the car before it gains too much of an advantage and manages to slip away.

"Hey! HEEEY! Over here!"

He starts shouting as loud as he can, hoping to draw the attention of the driver.

[miinstrel]

Jason smiles as Selovas prepares to assassinate the intruders. He moves down the hallway standing a few feet from the soon to be dead men and waits for Selovas to fire. As they duck against the wall and turn to confront him, Jason reaches forward, his hand sizzling with the bilious fluid again and strikes at the nearest one's face. The burns will be painful, and rightly so. No one interferes with Clan Tremere and its affairs.

Deactivating Auspex 1 before he leaves the elevator shaft.
Activating Hands of Destruction 3 for the round. Uses 1 blood point per turn in melee.

Dex+Brawl to hit: [roll0]
Str damage: [roll1] bashing (+1 aggravated from HoD)

[Danteric]

Jeremiah turned to look behind him when he thought he heard a laugh behind him, but no one was there. With a sudden crash everything went silent, What the heck is it now.. he thought to himself, leaning closer to the door, he tries to listen to the guards outside.

[roll0]
[roll1]
[roll2]

[pife]

The enraged painter runs to where the concrete begins to slope upward to the next level, leaps atop a shiny black Lexus, crouching there to gain his bearings. THERE! Less than fifty feet away, the headlights on a white Cadillac ignite, casting a blinding shaft of illumination in the dim interior of the garage. There appears to only be one person in the vehicle, behind the wheel. You make eye contact, and one of the man's eyebrows goes up in mild surprise, to be replaced instantly with a tight smile, and a.. did he.. A wink. The engine revs high, and the vehicle lurches out of it's space with the smell of scorched rubber and the sound of squealing wheels. The vehicle turns sharply to the left, heading down the ramp toward Gary. Although it's hard to be certain, it appears that the vehicle is going to try to drive right by, and down the ramps to the street.



Jeremiah's senses are in overdrive, and he hears so many things all at once. There is the beep of your phone as it begins dialing Caedral's number, a chuckle.. was that on the TV? No, it's off. The rumbling crash that shook the floor, the angry voices outside the door, the doorknob turning and weight being applied to it from outside.. It's hard to isolate one more sound in that cacophony. Did it come from the bathroom? The suite next door? The window? You heard something, but you can't consciously identify it or tell what direction it came from.

You hear the muted ringing of your cellphone as it tries to connect with Caedral.. Riiiiiinng. Riiiiiiing. Riiiiinnng. Good evening. You have reached the offices of Strategic Thinking LLC. Our normal business hours are, Monday through Thursday, 8 am to 8 pm, and Friday, from 9 am to midnight. Please leave a detailed message, and we will respond as soon as possible. Beeeeep.



Selovas' hand is steady as he takes aim, first at the girl. The hallway rings with the roaring report of the first round, and Autumn drops soundlessly to the ground, a growing red stain spreading from the center of her back. Selovas quickly shifts his aim slightly to the right and takes another shot. Jason's ears ring (and Jeremiah hears a muffled, but still loud second gunshot through the door), as Luis begins to spin around. He catches a bullet in the arm, slamming him against the door with a shout of surprise and pain. The third man, Hector, he of the broken arm, spins away and points his pistol toward the cracked door and fires. A slight grunt accompanies the shot. Selovas is hit, but you don't know how badly.

Jason activates the power of his blood, and swings at Hector, becoming visible just as he does so. In what seems like a slow motion montage, Jason can see Hector's determined gaze widen as he sees the flash of movement to his left, and Hector attempts to lurch away from Jason, but it's too late. While the blow Jason lands glances off of Hector's jaw, a sizzling and the acrid smell of something akin to chlorine fills the hallway, and Hector screams, a gaping and slightly smoking wound opening up on his chin, an angry, bloody red.


Autumn is down, Luis and Hector are both slightly wounded, as is Selovas. The three of them intend to attack, Hector and Luis on Jason, and Selovas on Hector and Luis. The party has the initiative, take your actions.



Taking two shots, one at the girl, and one at the guy about to try to kick the door down. 2 bonus dice per attack for attacking from the rear.

[roll1]

Damage Dice
[rollv[5d10


Extra Damage Dice- Additional hits will be taken from this pool, in order, left to right
[rollv[6d10

[miinstrel]

I certainly hope that grunt wasn't fatal, Jason thought as he pondered Selovas' ability to contribute. His own physical combat abilities were limited to the few scuffles of his youth. Still, the supernatural speed and strength were a boon and he found it counteracted at least some of the training these thugs had received. The hallway was too narrow to dodge bullets, so he decided the best thing to do was press the attack and hope to get them on the defensive. As his fist bounced off the man's jaw, his other jutted upwards, again reaching for his smoking skull.

No acid this time.

Dex+Brawl: [roll0]
Str: [roll1]

potential extra dice: [roll2]

[Vetril]

He winked! Does he think I'm going to give it up like this?
Gary looks at the Cadillac as it passes, and then, out of desperation he does the only thing he can think of: he sends a punch in the direction of the anterior tire, putting all the strength he can muster into the blow.
"Where do you think you're going?"
The painter doesn't even realize he has spoken out loud the words, focused as he is on the objective. He has never been so determined to reach out and grab what he currently wants: the blood of the driver.

Not sure what I should roll, so just tell me and I'll roll it in the OOC thread.
Furthermore, if Gary fails to stop the car (quite likely, I guess), he'll at least try to read the back plate.

[Danteric]

Jeremiah curses to himself as he hangs up the phone, where was Caedral at a time like this? he thought to himself. Suddenly his thoughts were interrupted by a bullets ricocheting through the door, surprising him. "Oh ****, is the Tremere out there? I suppose the only way out of this.." he begins to mumble to himself. Pulling a few of the pieces of furniture away, Jeremiah prepares himself to fight, causing his Vitae to flow around his veins, strengthening them, increasing his strength.

Ripping the door open, Jeremiah rushes out of the room, fists clenched, and throws a punch at the first person he sees coming out of the room, he if was going to go down, he was going down fighting.

Jeremiah spends 3 blood points to increase his physical attributes, 1 blood for each stat. Upon leaving the room, he'll punch the first person he sees in the head, intent on knocking him out.

Dex+Brawl [roll0]
((Will roll damage on OOC, incase any extra successes.))

[pife]

The acrid smell penetrates your senses, as you lash out once more at Hector. You connect once more with his jaw, near the blistered and oozing spot where your acid was eating into him. His head wrenches to the side, and you're fairly certain he has a tooth or two to spit out shortly, but he does not go down. He does not seem much worse for the wear.

Selovas throws the door open completely, and, though there is a small amount of blood dripping from his left forearm, he raises the pistol in his right hand , aiming it directly at Luis,

[roll0]
Damage [roll1]
Potential Extra Damage Dice [roll2]

The bullet rips into Luis' upper leg, causing him to cry out, but it was a grazing blow, leaving Luis a bit wobbly, but still dangerous

Jeremiah bursts out of the hotel room, which Luis hears and tries to compensate for. Unfortunately, as he attempts to spin back around to deal with you, he trips over the still moving body of Autumn beneath him, causing him to stagger. This wouldn't be a bad thing, except that the haymaker that Jeremiah had wound up for and unloaded was now off target. His fist scuffs across the top of his opponents head, but does little damage. (1) His eyes go wide as he regains his balance, and he is looking over Jeremiah's shoulder, mouth hanging open in shock. Mahmoud, fully visible, has left the room, and stands in the hallway with his hands in his pockets, looking like nothing so much as a chubby vagrant or particularly badly dressed taxi driver. Sniffing the air briefly at the scent of blood, Mahmoud looks down at Luis' crouched form, and says "Zurrendir to me. ([roll3] Diff 5). A wave of authority so palpable that you almost feel the need to capitulate yourselves bursts from the Primogen. The pistol falls immediately from Luis' hand, and he raises his hands, his face betraying abject terror, the stain on his slacks dark, wet, and rapidly growing.


Hector has had enough, and attempts to get past Jason, trying to pistol-whip him as he goes. He looks a bit worse for the wear. His strike is true, but not as efficient as it might have been a few moments ago.
(Split Action, Strike and Run for the Stairs behind Jason)
[roll4]
Damage [roll5]
Dex+Athletics to dance around Jason (opposed by Jason's Dex+Athletics to grab him, if he so chooses) [roll6]Hector's wild swing connects with Jason's shoulder, solidly, but it is a mere inconvenience. (1 pt bashing damage)



In an act of desperation, you hurl yourself off of the car roof you are on, directly onto the concrete. As you land, the front of the car is passing you. As you begin cocking your arm back and kneeling down, you see the eyebrows of the driver go wide in definite surprise. You slam your fist into the tire, and create such a massive wave of overpressure within it that you break the bead, and the tire's air explodes out in a rush, the tire itself beginning to try to unwrap itself from the wheel. (You take one point of Bashing damage to your fist for this maneuver). The rear of the tire actually slides several inches to the right. This fact, plus the tire coming off of the wheel and giving no traction, gives the driver cause to spin the wheel rapidly in an attempt to regain control. He. Can. Not. Tires squealing, the front end whips first one way, and then another as the driver over-corrects, before slamming, hard, into a beige Volvo parked closest to the elevator, and coming to a stop, the automatic airbag having deployed on it's driver. Blood, precious Vitae, drips down a cut in his forehead, creating a small rivulet down his nose, from which it falls, onto the white, quivering airbag.

[Vetril]

Gary doesn't waste any time. He sucks his bruised fist as he stands up and moves to approach the disabled vehicle. He is satisfied, and walks with a confidence: now, nothing can get in the way of his goal.
The malkavian briefly stops to examine the aura of the stranger: what is he, exactly? The artist is curious, and hopes that perhaps the colors whirling around the man might help him identify the nature of someone whose blood is so exquisite.
Moments after the exam, Gary can't help but emit a dry laugh.
"You shouldn't run so fast. You could have died in there! Eh. Eh eh. Now..." - he slams open the door with violence - "...get over here so that I can drain you!"
The vampire smiles a wicked smile as puts his hands on the driver, with the intention of lifting him out of the car so that he can bite him and consume the entirety of that incredible blood.

[miinstrel]

[roll0]

The butt of the pistol digs into his shoulder pushing him aside, but he recovers and lunges for Hector. Mahmoud said no one leaves alive, and no one would. He launched himself forward trying to rush Hector into the wall and tangling him up long enough for the others to bring him to the ground.

He was a moment too late. Hector slipped past him deftly. "Selovas, some help if you please."

Dex+Athletics: [roll1]

[Danteric]

After recovering from nearly missing the guard, Jeremiah crouched slightly as Hector dashed past Jason, and suddenly breaks into a run. "Get back here!" he yelled, as he ran past the others, intent on taking the man out. He tried to stake me and now he decides to run? You're not going anywhere! He thought, trying to get close enough to tackle the man.

Dex+Athletics to catch up to Hector[roll0]
Will try to tackle him once he gets close enough, but i'll leave that roll until the next post when I catch up.

[pife]

http://i1294.photobucket.com/albums/b604/Pife/GarysTarget_zps78767cf9.jpg (http://s1294.photobucket.com/user/Pife/media/GarysTarget_zps78767cf9.jpg.html)
The airbag begins to deflate as you approach, and the man stirs against it, pushing against it to free himself of it. As you wrench the door open and focus your senses on his aura, the driver, your target, your focus, turns his head to face you. There is something about the eyes, something noble, and sad, and..something.. unsettling, that has nothing to do with the Vitae running down his face. Your vision slips sideways a bit as you allow your eyes to feed you the information that lies beyond the veil. His aura is flowing, almost like the tide, in and out as he calmly regards you. Reds blend with yellow in an eyewatering kaleidoscope, but that isn't the strangest part. Piercing his aura are a dozen slowly pulsing veins of bright gold, going from almost a copper burnish and fluctuating to a bright nearly yellow-gold.

His eyes can only be called.. understanding, yet disappointed. Oh, my poor friend, I will make time for you soon. I'm so sorry that I cannot give you the time you deserve now. I am imperfect, forgive me. The strangest part is that he sounds completely sincere, and his voice is heavy with regret.

Gary sees the man, shirtless and clad only in a breechclout, picking his way through a bramble of thorns, blood falling carelessly from a dozen scratches and cuts. In the distance, a raised plinth is polished and shining with bright silver light, and from it seems to come the sound of joyous harmonizing, as though one hundred pure voices all cried out in synchronized exultation. A church. The raised plinth is a church and..

Garys mind comes back to the present. Less than a second has passed, the mans lips still parted from speaking.


Normally I wouldn't allow you to use as much forethought as Gary is (especially using Aura Gaze) without a Willpower point, but in this case, it seemed fitting.

Roll for Initiative please, Dex+Wits+1d10 against his Initiative of [roll0] and let me know specifically what your first action should be





Jason lunges at Hector, who ducks under the grab and slips to the side, heading for the stairwell. Jeremiah, seeing that Mahmoud has Autumn and Luis under control, as Autumn still stirs feebly on the ground and Luis drops to his knees, his hands held high, takes off after Hector as well. Selovas steps swiftly from the hotel room, and levels his pistol at the back of the fleeing assailant. His arm moves laterally as he tracks and anticipates Hector's movement, and then the large pistol barks once just as Hector reaches the door to the stairway.

[roll1]
Damage [roll2] Potential Extra Damage [roll3]
Probable Soak Roll for Hector [roll4]




Hector staggers against the stairwell door with a grunt, a small dark spot growing on his shoulder. He jams the bar that opens the door, and begins to stagger through, Jeremiah directly behind him, ready to pounce. Selovas curses and moves to follow Jeremiah.

Mahmoud turns Luis to face him, and looks into his eyes. You came to kill someone in this room because he owes you money. The little Oriental man, he fights back very well, yes? He kills your two friends, injures you,and flees. You know him from a fishmarket in South Boston. You don't remember seeing any of us here. He kicks Autumn in the head, and you hear a sharp crack, followed by a short sigh, and then, she falls still. Luis' head is nodding, and he looks eager to please.

Mahmoud nods, satisfied, and looks up at Jason. Well? The last one is not yet dead, do not let him get away.. I weel find you when the time is right, eh? Then Mahmoud fades from sight

[miinstrel]

What.. the... hell...

No time. About time he came out and did something useful... he found himself thinking about Caedral's boy. They needed to catch him before he got to the ground floor... it would likely be swarming with people trying to get into the elevator shaft. "Selovas, bring the car around to the front. We'll meet you there."

In a flash Jason was on his feet and rushing after the other two. The bar of the stairwell door pushed in releasing the echoing footsteps and heavy breathing caged in the concrete shaft to fly free.

Dex+Athletics for the pursuit! [roll0]

Danteric I have a feeling this one's gonna be on you... I'm not so much with the speed :P

[Vetril]

Gary blinks for a moment, as confusion appears on his face only to quickly evolve into consternation. He has never seen something even remotely similar, and he is utterly convinced he would clearly remember. All of sudden, the artist realizes that he could have gone his entire existance without meeting another comparable being.

"What are you?", the painter asks, tilting his head as he gets closer and closer.

Taking advantage of the stranger's momentary weakness, the vampire leans on him, hoping to bite the man before he can muster enough energy to resist. Even then, Gary feels the sting of guilt: he is aware that what he is doing is fundamentally bad but the syren's call of that particular type of blood is too much to be ignored. The inner Beast of the Malkavian is ecstatic at the thought of finally quenching its thirst.

Gary will try to bite fast enough to make the victim helpless, as it usually happens with humans.
If the man struggles, Gary will try to use his strength to pin him against the car seat.

[Danteric]

Jeremiah continued to book it down the hallway after Hector as he ran to the staircase,he knew if Hector he got downstairs into the public, it wouldn't end well. Running as quickly as his undead muscles could take him, Jeremiah began to catch up with Hector and lunged at him, attempting to knock him down to the ground, and bind him as quickly as possible. "Get over here you little.." he roared, determined not to fail.

Eh, sorry for slow post, work and all. Heres my rolls
Dex+Atheletics [roll0]
Im not sure what to roll for the tackle, so if you could roll it for me i'd appreciate it.