In Blood and Mist - Chapter 1: The Tower Falls

[Lionheart]

The monthly meeting in Elysium has just begun. As neonates, this is your first opportunity to be presented
before the gathered Elders and Ancillae of London's Kindred.

Six of the seven Primogen council members are present: Thomas Barker, Primogen of the Gangrel clan is dressed
in the tweeds of a gentleman farmer, corduroy elbow patches and all. He surveys your group with barely
disguised disdain.
Old Nick wears a black zip up hoodie and jeans, and the scarring and disfigurement of his face leaves no
need to guess at his clan affiliation. He chews gum with the ruins of his mouth and smiles politely to you.
At least, you guess it's a smile.
Michael Smith wears a very fine black suit, with tie and shades to match. His short blonde hair is sculpted into
perfect chaos, and he checks his fingernails for dirt, ignoring your presence completely.
Ed Taylor has obviously made an effort to dress well, but his grey suit is old and worn, and his shirt is far
too small for his bulk. He seems genuinely pleased to see you, smiling and waving in greeting.
Anthony Collins wears a cornflour blue shirt with faded red chinos and a pair of vintage converse. He runs
his hand through his shoulder length black hair, watching your entrance from the corner of his eye.
Joseph Gibbs wears a blazer over a faded black Pink Floyd t-shirt, and smart black jeans beneath. He watches you
suspiciously through the frame of his dark brown hair, falling in ringlets over his forehead.

Isabella von Schreiber, the Tremere Primogen, is notable by her absence.

In addition, three well dressed women sit at a round table beside the stage, sipping blood from champagne
flutes, these are the three harpies: Jess, Sarah and Emily.

You are led into the wide auditorium by the Keeper of Elysium; Greg Laurent, a Nosferatu with a flare for
the dramatic. He currently wears the face of a young Paul McGann, but is liable to change at a moment's
notice.

There are three other neonates brought in with you, one is obviously a female Nosferatu, though the other
woman and the man could be any clan.

Greg turns to you and warns you in a gruff voice. "Go on in and introduce yourselves. The prince should be
here shortly. Don't embarrass me."

[Strawberries]

Erich Schneider

His mobile phone had rang while he was taking a break in the doctor's room, and of course it had been Greg, one of the five people in the whole of London (in the whole of the world) that has his number.
"Get your ass to Bush Hall, NHS man" he had said straight away, without so much if an hello, and had proceed to throughly ignore Erich's feeble protests of "but my job" and "I've got patients". So here he was, a tall bespectacled guy dressed in blue jeans and a shirt that look scrounged from the bargain rack at a charity shop, wondering what would constitute as an embarassment for Greg.

Well, he has already gone through this once, and directly in front of the prince nonetheless, he can do it again"Ehm..." he starts "My name is Erich Schneider." He's definitely German, you can tell from his voice, but then again, with a name like that, it isn't much of a guess. He makes a sort of little apologetic smile and adds "Of the clan Tzimisce". He may not know much of vam... kindred society, but he knows that people expect to know what clan you're from. "I... don't think I know any of you. Nice to meet you." he finishes awkwardly.

[Kynwric]

Sadie had put this off for sometime now, she'd had no desire to be put in a position to be recognized by the Elders and Prince of London. However, her instincts told her that if she had pushed the bounds of tolerance as far as she dared and so was present. Once she'd decided that this was the correct move to make she did it to the fullest, she found something pretty to wear, yet unassuming and playing on her girlish frame, she wanted to present those in Elysium as a completely non-threatening... and the visage of a young girl usually did the trick. She pulled her hair back into a ponytail, wore little make-up, and tried her best to look like a girl playing dress-up. In her hand she carried the zippo lighter, the metal against her hand slightly comforting and helping to hold her together .

She watched as the Tzimsce introduced himself to the Primogen, and a smile crossed her lips, briefly. She hadn't ever known a Fiend to take up in a Camarilla city before, not of his own free will. When he departed their presence she decided now was the best time for her to do so.

Sadie approached the gathered Elders, dropped a curtsy to them all, "Your Eminences, I am Sadie, my Sire is Marcel Auxiere, I present myself to you and to the Prince and ask for His hospitality." She glanced upwards, cocking her head slightly and examining the Primogen seated before her. She straightened herself, letting the curtsy go, and gave the lighter in her hand just a little bit tighter squeeze. She was resisting for the moment the urge to flick open the lid and strike it, but Marcel had drilled into her how poorly that would be received in an introduction. She also felt the empty feeling inside, if she'd been mortal she would have said her stomach growled. Once she was either ignored or dismissed she curtsied again and retreated.

[Arilus]

Aislinn was pouring over one of the few texts she had access to in the Chantry library, mildly irritated that all of this invaluable information was still stored on archaic paper and vellum. Fortunately her preternaturally heightened senses permitted her to read effortlessly in the dim light. She felt a slight buzzing and pulled out her smartphone, which seemed anachronistic in the antiquated archive. Bertram had informed her of all of the important players in London before she left home, so she recognized the name at the end of the message "inviting" her to Elysium. She suspected it was less of an invitation and more of a summons, but she was more curious as to how Greg Laurent got her number. Though from what she had heard about Nosferatu abilities, she figured she should not be surprised. She returned the manuscript to its shelf, put on her jacket, and headed out.

As she arrived at Elysium, she saw that she was probably not the only neonate to be presented to the leadership tonight. She was able to extrapolate the identities of a few of the Primogen, but none of them fit the description of the Tremere representative, Primogen von Schreiber. Nevertheless, she knew her Clan expected her to project power, as power and the perception of power were supposedly two of the few things keeping the Usurpers from a decidedly ashy fate. She almost lost her composure when she heard another neonate introduce himself as a Tzimisce, but she managed to not betray herself. She knew the Fiends were supposedly holding onto a millennium-old vendetta against her Clan. Though this one might be a bit more open-minded about old hatred, seeing as he was being presented at Camarilla Elysium. Perhaps he could be turned into an asset...

Next there was a a mere girl, or at least she appeared to be one. She was still acclimating to the fact that apparent and actual age seldom matched among Kindred.

"Greetings, Kindred," she began after the girl, speaking in a honeyed voice with an Irish accent and a resolute gaze. "I am Aislinn Ní Fhiachrach, Childe of Maynard Bertram in Dublin and a member of the Clan Tremere," she finished, not bothering to give an anglicized version of her Gaelic surname. She hoped she presented the proper balance of pride and humility to garner respect without going so far as to be insulting. But she was still only a few months dead, so she had insufficient experience in Kindred culture to determine if she was successful.

[Griffith!]

Mercer

Mercer lurked. It was a talent he'd been working on - to be present in such a way that he was barely noticeable, but just present enough that the threat of his company was a pressing one. Kine can't stand the sight of us, and kindred would rather not have to, his Sire always said.

He followed the girl - Sadie, she was calling herself. He'd been over by her place in Knightsbridge a few times since she popped up in the city. Keeping tabs. Right now, she was his favorite little puzzle in the whole London landscape. Hey, a guy's gotta have a hobby.

He slipped the mask off, flashing a macabre, too-wide grin. His fangs - permanent now, since they wouldn't fit back in his face after the first time he'd popped them out - flashed red and wet in the light. The blood in his mouth was another gruesome side-effect of his embrace, a gash on his tongue where he'd almost bit it off. His voice a low, phlegmy rasp, he set off, "Lords, Ladies, good people of the upstanding underground monster community - wotcha." he wasn't being very polite, but he wasn't entirely taking the mick, either - he'd seen all of these faces before, and they'd seen him in his official capacity of message boy and brown nose, so this was a formality for him, "Name's Mercer, and I know that sounds like mercy, but don't go getting them confused, 'cause I got a bit in common with a Little Monster (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mercer_Mayer_bibliography#Little_Monster_series), savvy? Now, I'm real chuffed to meet our Primogen, and all, but I've been up here on the Ivory Tower once or twice myself, so I'll just step aside and let someone else have a go, shall I?"

He flashed his grin again and pulled his mask back over his face. That should have been just the right amount of vulgar, just coarse enough to play into the Nosferatu stereotype. Then again, maybe it was too far... smiling to himself, he cut a deep bow just to patch up the holes in his introduction and went back to skulking quietly to the side.

[DoctorFaust]

It is a rare day indeed when someone like Cyrus is called to stand before before the Primogen, especially because of the lengths he had gone to to avoid their notice. As far as he knew, he wasn't registered with any phone companies as of yet, and he had even gone to the effort of setting up his secondary identity with a legitimate address. But, the summons had come, and so here he was, standing in front of six of the seven most powerful vampires in the city.

Waiting until after most of the other Kindred called with him had stepped forward and introduced themselves, Cyrus finally takes a few steps forwards and bows to the assembled leaders, tugging the back of his coat down when it begins to ride up. "Lords, ladies," he says. "My name is Cyrus Reem of the clan Brujah, Childe of none, taught the ways of Kindred and clan by Leigh Abney. I present myself to you and to the Prince, and ask for your hospitality." After waiting a few beats for either acknowledgement or dismissal, he steps back in line with another bow.

[OldRenovator]

Adrian

Among the walking talking carcasses assembled, Adrian found his eyes drawn first to the Nosferatu. In a strange way, their peculiar and individual monstrosities really caught the eye, like a turd in the Louvre. Among the mystery and enchantment of these immortal monsters, you find these little speckles of freakish strangeness flavoring the mix, he thought to himself. First among the sewer rats was their Primogen, Old Nick, chewing away at something. Possibly his own tongue? Gruesome. Mr. Laurent, who Adrian hadn’t quite figured out yet, had been their gruff but oddly caring guide for the evening. There were two other Nosferatu among the neonates; the female over there, who hadn’t spoken yet, and the truly nasty fellow. Adrian was already vaguely aware of Mercer, in the way that you were vaguely aware of a bad smell that was just about to really settle in the air around you if you didn’t get away quickly. He imagined that people tended to call him ‘That friggin guy’ rather than use his actual name. Still, Mercer seemed to be a person who knew what he was. Most Nosferatu did, and Adrian respected that deeply. Curious about the female Nossie though, what’s her story…?

Of course, the German had been first to speak, not Mercer. It was fascinating, being able to put a face and demeanor to the little details he had picked up about the Tzimisce several months ago. Erich was indeed quite tall, and even in this first impression he appeared to be… almost sweet, at least to Adrian’s eyes. He’s the sweet to Mercer’s sour, perhaps. Ah, now this young girl… Her name was Sadie. Sadie had curtsied. She called them ‘Eminences’. She looked them right in the eyes. What confidence! An unexpected follow-up to the humble, rather awkward Erich. Surely this Sadie was someone to know, but something instinctual… something primal… warned Adrian to be just a little bit cautious. This Aislinn gave more strident warning signs. Hell, they were more like raid sirens. She was beautiful, busty, and decidedly predatory. Adrian couldn’t put a finger on why he felt that way, but this Irish creature may as well have bared her claws at him; his subtle shiver would’ve been just as intense. She, too, was confident and straight forward with her introduction, and her pride in her name suggested a few things about her. Then a man named Cyrus Reem. Who was this? What was this? Childe of none? Adrian needed to know more, see more, about each of these people, but-

Ah, damn, his turn! No time, have to say what we’re here to say! Let them see, then hear. Adrian stepped out into the light, wearing a damned fine suit that fit him as well as his own skin. The blackness of his clothing slid dangerously over his well-built form, cutting downward from strong shoulders across a broad and motionless chest; no beats, no breathing, solid and silent. His posture hinted at his military background. He was clean, but not soft; no tender hands rubbed with lotion, and no powdered skin to mask the hints of his deathly pallor. He was a dead man, and he wasn’t pretending otherwise. Not tonight. Not in front of these things, and certainly not in front of the damned Harpies at their table.

“Adrian Smith.” he announced to the air, a little amused that he shared a last name with the Toreador Primogen. “Ventrue.” That was all, really. They knew who he was. This wasn’t some roll call, and it wasn’t a formation. These beasts wanted to see what Adrian was seeing. They wanted to get the scent of the new predators on the Savannah, so they’d know each other’s piss and bark scratches when they came ‘round. Adrian turned to join those who had spoken, unafraid to meet the gaze of any who were checking him out in turn. So much to see tonight…

[Lionheart]

Next in line for the introductions are the three other neonates. The first to step forward is the rather plain looking woman, she appears to be of oriental descent, but that blood has been diluted by generations of intermingling with pasty Londoners, so the difference is very subtle.
She coughs nervously, forgetting that she doesn't need to. "Hello. I'm Joy, just Joy.
My clan is Brujah, my sire is Jessica Malone" she nods her head at the red-headed Harpy.
"And I'll do what I can to serve." she offers a tight smile, and steps back into line.

Next up is the gentleman, he polishes his glasses discreetly before bowing low before the Primogen council and flashing a wide grin to the assembled masses. "Ladies and Gentlemen! I have the great pleasure of being David Maycock, Childe of Sheriff Michael Smith, Childe of the Prince himself. It is my great honour to be member in good standing of the illustrious Clan Toreador, and I shall bring glory to clan and Camarilla, given a chance."
He steps back and adjusts his tie, smiling smugly at his own self importance.

Lastly, the female Nosferatu steps forward. She makes an exaggerated bow in obvious mockery of the Toreador, and speaks"I'd like to thank my Sire, for everything he's done for me, my director, for making this all possible..." she waves her hand in front of her face, feigning Oscar acceptance tears. She shoots a look at David, and his face is distorted into cold fury. She smiles.
"Jackie Bates, Nossy, obviously. Greg's my pappy. Happy to help."

[Danteric]

Hayden barely had enough time to learn how to survive as a Kindred now, let alone be thrust in front of the primogen of the city, he never even got to change his clothes, still wearing the dingy sweater and jeans he wore since his embrace. He was lucky enough to learn what clan and about the Camarilla from his sire before disappearing. Walking into the auditorium and taking his place next to the other neonates, he never really met any other vampires then his own clan, she he didnt know what to expect, but he never could have imagined what he saw. The two "Nosferatu" so they were called, we're disgustingly ugly beyond anything he had ever seen, the smell and sight of rotting skin was something he would never get used to. Hayden wanted to comment on it, but he knew that would only make things worse.

Watching as the others introduced themselves to the Primogen, Hayden steps forward as it came to his turn. "Hayden Conners, Childe of clan Gangrel. I present myself to you." he manages to say, holding back his anxiety. Was that what he was supposed to say? He was never very good at these kinds of things, and hoped to get out of this situation as quickly as possible.

[McStabbington]

http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-g5xD56mHJPs/UPRnJtWPQaI/AAAAAAADcNU/ELGSJBGwP08/s1600/antonio_banderas_photo37.jpg


Just stay calm. On the face of it, this wasn't that hard. He had no heartbeat, and he didn't sweat any more. What was more, he'd had an entire lifetime of learning how to code switch; in fact his masters work had been on that very subject. He'd watched everyone else present themselves, and despite what was supposed to be eons of accumulated experience at keeping a poker face, these Primogens seemed readable enough. On the face of it, they didn't seem that different from some of the gang members in the barrios back home: treat them with respect, and you'll never be in trouble. Just stay calm, and don't include any obvious fibs to start.

His fingers untangled from Joanna's, and he straightened his suit jacket. As the Gangrel returned to his position, he advanced calmly and with all the confidence years of doing job interviews had taught him. As he spoke, his tanned skin and Hispanic descent was clearly belied by his Midwestern American accent, one that he had used to scrub his old accent clean. "Greetings, Primogen of London. My full name is Juan Carlos Mendoza-Hernandez, but I am often go by John. I'm here from Los Angelos in the United States. I'm not certain what I can do to help such as yourselves, but if you have need of me, you need only ask. In the meantime, I ask for your hospitality, both on behalf of myself and behalf of Joanna, my fiance." A glance and a nod turned back to the young lady whose hand he had been clasping. Her large brown eyes met his for a moment, and then her glance turned to the Primogens beyond him and she offered them a courteous smile.

[OldRenovator]

The Primogen each listen, in their own fashion, to the introductions given. As the last neonate, John, speaks his piece, the Primogen begin talking among themselves, their voices low and just under the hearing… Unless of course you are a Tremere with her senses magnified… But before any words can be picked out by Aislinn, Gregory speaks up. He grins with Paul McGann’s face, twisting the actor’s visage in a way you’ve certainly never seen in film or television. “You did fine.” He tells you. “As well as I expected.” He gestures toward the small stairs leading down into the Elysium proper, a broad and curiously-lit area still in view of the stage. “Now go on, go mingle. And don’t scratch up the furniture. We’ll call you back up here when it’s time.”

Near the stage, three chairs angled around a circular table can be seen. One is black, one is red, and one is a revolting shade of burnt orange. On the table is a single glass vase holding a white rose. Encircling the glass vase are fresh red rose petals.

In another area, there is a long, black sectional sofa, arranged in a ‘U’ shape around a knee-high table. The table is covered with a variety of brochures for local kine events; music shows, plays, political rallies and so on. The sofa itself looks comfortable enough, with matching pillows, though there is one pillow with a zebra pattern on it.

There is a small laptop computer set up on a table, plugged in to a wall socket. An audio cable links it with some low-quality standing speakers, and it’s playing a local evening radio show. The laptop does not appear to be connected to the internet, wireless or otherwise.

There is a dance floor, indicated by a black and white checkered flooring.

There are a variety of dining room tables with no real utensils or plates to speak of. One of them can seat six.

There are some comfortable looking chairs arranged next to a large bookcase.

Otherwise, the place is empty. You are the night-life, such as it is. For now...

[Arilus]

Seeing all of the neonates introduce themselves offered Aislinn preliminary data on the other young Kindred. She was especially interested in Erich and Mercer. The Tzimisce would need to be studied. If she could make suitable use of him, it could gain her status in the Pyramid and, more importantly, serve her own advantage. Her interest in Mercer was the same as all Nosferatu. Despite their hideous appearance, or possibly because of it, they were reputed to the be the premier information brokers among the undead. Friendly association with the Sewer Rats could be incredibly valuable, though she would have to be careful to not be manipulated herself by the selective presentation of the very information she lusts after. Her memory was excellent before, but is has been elevated to nearly perfect since her Embrace, so she took in as much as she could for later analysis.

Deciding to take Greg Laurent up on his offer, Aislinn decided to head towards the comfortable-looking chairs near the bookcase, arranging her posture in a subtle "come hither" posture that typically worked on the opposite sex—or at least the mortal ones—and meant that she was in the position of the one to be approached instead of vice versa, which was always preferable. This was complemented by her somewhat dishevelled appearance and untucked shirt. Being neat and tidy was not the only way to appeal the senses, and her method required far less work. She continued observing the rest of the assembled neonates with slightly hooded eyes, but was prepared to peruse the nearby books if they began to bore her. Her eyes were, in fact, the one aspect of her appearance that was uninviting. Perceptive individuals sometimes discerned that behind the sensuality of her countenance and voice were cold, calculating eyes.

[Griffith!]

Mercer
the dining room

Lurking is a skill. A talent, even. Not everyone can lurk properly. It takes a finely honed sense and a certain level of low-key maliciousness. Mercer was good at it. Maybe it was a clan thing. Maybe it wasn't. But nobody can lurk quite like a nightmare.

The furniture was a nice, classic affair - several degrees better than the crap you got in the underground, which was mostly cast-offs and scrap. He sat at the head of the table, scratching at the veneer with a fingernail. "A poem," he mutters, watching the newly-post fledged filter into the place, "A bird flutters down and sings me a song, but the song wasn't pretty - the song was all wrong. My bird always came at the call and the beck, so when next he came down I snapped his damn neck."

He paused, studying the other neonates. Two birds - Unpronounceable and Sadie. Then there was the bonesaw, the mutt, the stray, and the anachronism. Erich, Hayden, Adrian and Cyrus. And the pretty one. Me. And the odd duck out - Johnny boy. The only one who wouldn't admit a clan, the only one who brought a guest... questions and answers. A new game.

Good.

Mercer put his fingers through the slit in the mask, whistling loudly. He waved enthusiastically in the air at anyone looking in his direction, and patted the chair next to him.

[DoctorFaust]

Cyrus:The Dining Room

Grateful for the reprieve, Cyrus walks off the stage a few steps behind the majority of the group. He pauses a moment to shrug out of his jacket and look around the room, slowly fingering a rose petal from the table beside him as he watches the other Kindred start to form into groups.

Making a snap decision, he strides off towards the one that introduced himself as a Nosferatu, the only one wearing a literal mask as opposed to a metaphorical one. Cyrus nods in acknowledgement to the wave, and sits down besides Mercer, tossing his jacket up on the table. "Well," he drawls, "I was not expecting these summons. Thought I had hid my tracks well enough, but I guess I was wrong. You ever been called here before?"

[Kynwric]

Sadie took the dismissal for what it was and turned away from the Priomgen, she examined the room and with it all the other neonates in the room. The Brujah and Gangrel were short and succinct; but Childe of none? Everyone has a parent. The Toreador was a pompous ass, nothing new there. Tzimsce and Tremere, in the same room and they thought she played with fire? Nosferatu, the sneaks… she wondered at them and if the flames would make them prettier or uglier? And lastly the one who claimed no Clan. Now that her back was turned to the council, and she was a few steps away she flicked the lighter in her hand open, gave a furtive glance in each direction, and sparked it to life. It was just for a moment, then she flicked the lid closed with practiced ease and pocketed the lighter. However, the look of relief on her face was there for those who were paying attention to see.

Sadie paid attention Aislinn and the posture she exuded, she also paid attention to Mercer and the posture he tried not to exude. It was an interesting contrast; it was also interesting that the Brujah, with no Sire, chose to speak to the Nosferatu over the Tremere. Saide made no move to join either one for the moment, the papers in front of the sofa drew her attention and so she flopped down onto the black leather and snatched one up at random, giggling to herself at the name of the band being advertised. Her feet were propped up on the table in front of her, but she had to slouch down in the sofa's seat to reach it. She took a glance around the room again after she'd settled herself, just to make sure that everyone was where they should be.

[Strawberries]

Erich
Near the bookcase

Erich isn't sure whether to be relieved or miffed. On one hand, if that was all, that's gone considerably better than it could have. On the other, he had had patients, dammit. He had to ask a favour from a colleague to manage to take the rest of the night off, and Erich doesn't like asking favours - too dangerous to attract people's attention on himself. He pushes his glasses back on the bridge of his nose and grabs his bag - why on earth he's brought it with him is anybody's guess: force of habit, really - and he looks around the area, trying to decide what to do.

He would be tempted to join the Nosferatu - he is inclined to regard Nosferatu favourably after his experience with Greg - but he seems already engaged in conversation, and he doesn't want to intrude. And altought he is aware that it's quite prejudicial of him, the little girl is, frankly, a bit too creepy to approach - talking to her like an adult would make him feel like a pervert.

He's still musing on how bizzarre his life has become when he sees the lady with the strange name sitting alone near the books, and not talking to anybody at the moment. That's probably his best bet, if he wants to mingle. "Good evening" he says to her quite formally, extending a hand for an handshake "Erich. Er... I don't think I caught your full name. "

[Arilus]

Aislinn: Near the Bookcase

Aislinn was surprised to see the Tzimisce choose her over the other scattered neonates. And even more surprised that he seemed quite friendly. In fact everything about him was so inconsistent with all she knew of the Clan that she briefly wondered whether her sire had lied to her, though she settled on the probability that Erich is an anomaly among the Fiends. Something had to lead his a likely defection to the Camarilla, after all. If he was like most Fiends, he wouldn't be here in the first place. Regardless, this was a valuable opportunity to establish a rapport with him and assess his potential utility.

"Let's go with Aislinn O'Feary, Herr Schneider," she replied in a warm tone whilst shaking the extended hand from her seated position, suspecting that this timid Kindred would respond best to cordiality and a German honorific. She didn't have much German, but she knew a few words. She decided that anglicizing "Ní Fhiachrach" was appropriate in this case. The form always depended on her audience.

"If you don't mind my asking, what brings you to London?" she followed up. She wanted to broach the real subject as delicately as possible. What she was leading up to was what on Earth a Tzimisce was doing in the Camarilla and speaking to a Tremere, but asking the question outright would probably be a faux pas that would lead to the German clamming up. Though maintaining the appropriate amount of eye contact, she was using her peripheral vision to look for anything that could help her get a beat on Erich. Even with her enhanced senses, she didn't see anything yet, as her talents for observation were more prominent in a laboratory than a social gathering. She did not need to be too keen to get what she wanted from the living when she was one of them, but Kindred were much more complicated to deal with.

[Strawberries]

Erich
Near the bookcase

Erich frowns, confused. That wasn't the surname she mentioned before, he's sure of it. Maybe it's an anglicised form? Makes sense, if she's Irish. He smiles as he shakes her hand, a quite firm, warm handshake. Literally, she would notice: his hand isn't cold as it would be standard for a vampire, and... is he breathing? He's definitely breathing. "Erich, please" he corrects. "And...work, mostly. I'm a doctor, and the Royal hospital is quite a prestigious institution" Which is true enough, even if it brushes under the carpet a whole lot of other issues. But, as Greg had said, 'Discretion is the soul of valour, Florence Nightingale, so keep your head down and don't make bloody waves'. Which, as far as he's concerned, is an excellent suggestion.

He lays his bag, a heavy-looking, scruffy leather thing, on the ground and takes one of the other seats. "What about you, miss O'Feary?"

[Arilus]

Aislinn: Near the Bookcase

Aislinn was taken aback at the illusion of life in Erich. She was accustomed to inducing such mimicry due to the benefits it conferred whilst hunting around the South Kensington campus. But this one was spending valuable vitae for no conceivable reason...unless he had a way to accomplish the feat without starving himself. Being a practising doctor could be advantageous if he was cooperative, as acquiring medical grade EDTA and glycerol would permit her to safely store blood for up to 30 days, which could be useful for her thaumaturgical experiments.

"Indeed it is doctor," she responded to his apparent pride in the location of his practice in the same mellifluous voice. He still must have the mindset of a human to think such mortal institutions retain prestige. She may still be young, but she had adapted to her inhuman nature enthusiastically. At least as far as she could without giving the Beast ground.

"I am a lecturer at Imperial College," she answered to his perfunctory return of her question, seeing no reason for deception on the matter. A scientific profession might even insight some camaraderie in a doctor. "Fortunately, entomology is not competitive enough for unwanted attention," she finished. She had always been fascinated by insects, and figured she wanted a low-profile department to Dominate and seduce her way into. She hadn't even finished her baccalaureate at Trinity College, so she had to resort to an unconventional job application.

She was surprised by the thought, but she kind of hoped this Tzimisce did with his practice what the Clan was notorious for. Imagine the biothaumaturgical insight she could gain from access to one of their twisted hybrid art studio-laboratories! Such thoughts got her curiosity going, and she decided to skip some of the typical few steps of small talk. Besides, it almost always was about the weather back home, and she could meet her Final Death happy if she never had to talk about the weather again.

"So tell me, Erich, how did you end up here, welcome in Camarilla Elysium? Your Clan is known for their support of the Sabbat, as I'm sure you are aware," she asked. She left out the obvious in no small part because of the presence of the Tremere.

[Griffith!]

Mercer

Mercer whistled long and low, under his breath. Not the fish he'd hoped to catch, but when you're angling in such a narrow stream, you have to be ready for a bad haul. Mercer studied Cyrus for a while, peering out the eye-holes of the plastic Halloween mask he'd chosen for this special occasion. It was cheap, blank, white-faced and had no expression. he liked to call it his 'carefully composed' mask. And he'd been inches from the luchador mask, too.

"Well." he eventually said, poking the jacket with his twisted finger, "I've been around. Ask any bird who's been here twice in a row, and they'll chirp. 'Ol Mercer' they'll say, 'he's a right fine chap. Paid his dues, has he.'"

"Ain't seen you much at all, though, mate. So let's say, I say you were hiding well enough - what dues have you paid? See, you gotta be asking yourself... why are they moving you to the big time? Why you particularly? What are they getting out of you love?"

[OldRenovator]

Adrian
On The Stage

A Gangrel was among them as well, dressed a little shabbily in Adrian’s opinion. It was possible that this Mr. Conners hadn’t received much forewarning. Adrian reminded himself not to be to judgmental; this was a stressful event. Still, the Gangrel didn’t appear anxious. That was respectable. Then this Mr. Mendoza-Hernandez, and his fiancée. Curious, no Clan to claim? Or none to announce, just like that girl Sadie.


Adrian
Sectional Couch

He wasn't sure what to make of the young girl sitting at the black couch arrangement, obviously amused by whatever she was reading. She was a Kindred, surely, an immortal monster just like him. Yet she was a young teen, in apparent age. What kind of mind was there, that introduced herself bravely to the Primogen? In this world of undead, a child could be thousands of years old, and an old man could be a neonate, new and uncertain.

Adrian passed by the couch on the opposite side of the other Kindred, and he decided to politely greet her. "Good evening. Your name was Sadie, right?"

[Kynwric]

Sadie glanced over a the well-dressed man as he passed by the couch, and she almost dismissed him as he went by. However, he chose to stop and speak to her instead. Sadie sat up, putting her feet on the floor and placing her elbows on her knees, and crossed her arms. Her head was leaned forward, allowing her hair to obscure her face, but she was looking up at Adrian through the blonde strands. "Yes, I said that Adrian Ventrue." The urge to reach back in her pocket was there, Adrian put her hackles up. He was just exactly the kind of man she would have run from a decade ago, but that was then and here she needed to project some confidence. "You can sit, I won't bite." Sadie quipped with a giggle and smile, That's it, keep your calm, talk to him like a person, not a monster. Well, not THAT kind of monster. She resisted the urge to delve back into her pocket for her lighter, she didn't need to be nervous, she didn't need to feel afraid... he wasn't interested in her like that... she hoped.

[DoctorFaust]

Cyrus

"What dues have I paid? A hundred and fifty years of Torpor, and all of my memories before the Embrace but two. Those are my dues." Cyrus snots in amusement. "But look at me, getting all pissy about it. As for what they can get out of me, well, I'm a good gun arm and I have ties to some higher Kindred up north. That's about it."

Eager to drag the conversation away from himself, he points towards where the man who introduced himself as a Ventrue and the one that looks like young girl are introducing themselves to each other, and says, "If you've been around, what d'you know about those two?

[OldRenovator]

Adrian
Sectional Couch

He took her invitation to sit, settling down on the part of the couch on the opposite side. He laid his hands comfortably on his knees, the act making his sleeves slide up to show a silver luxury watch on his left wrist. He also noted that she had used his Clan name as his last name. "So, if I am Adrian Ventrue, you would be Sadie...?"

[Kynwric]

Sadie smiled, taking note of his choice of seating. "My Sire named me Sadie." He had wanted her to carry his surname, but she'd resisted. She'd resisted that for a very long time, almost until the end. That name had been the first thing to go when she'd fled, along with the cameo and choker he'd had given her before her Embrace. Her hand reflexively went to her throat when she remembered that cameo being placed around her throat. If she'd known then what it represented she'd have lost it long, long ago... before. Once she realized that she'd raised her hand she lowered it again, those memories were dangerous. She flipped her head back to clear her hair from her face and looked back at Adrian without the thin veil between their gazes, she chewed a little bit at the inside of her mouth. "I think we can safely rule out Sadie Nosferatu, or Tzimsce, and since I can see myself in the glass here, Lasombra, too... the question is, does my clan not claim me or do I not claim my clan or am I just pranking you because I like watching blue bloods squirm when they don't know what is going on?" A wry smile spread across her face at that, and finally she answered. "My sire said he was of Enoch, through Malkav. But he was demented, and not in the good way. As for me, he said I would never be one of them unless I did exactly as he bid me, and since I didn't, I suppose I'm of none."

[Strawberries]

Erich
Near the bookcase

And here it is. Not that her question comes exactly as a surprise. Greg had grilled him truly and properly on the same matter, and, after a fashion, so has the Prince. His smile becomes just a bit more tense "Yes, well... there were, let's say, some slight divergences of opinions on some matters." he replies, with a slight shrug that aims for casual but doesn't quite make it. That is certainly one way of putting it. 'When Luther showed me what I was expected to be doing I had to run out of the room and try to puke my guts off even if I technically can't do it anymore' would be another, but that's a touch too personal to talk about to a perfect stranger. He's told Greg, but Greg has a way with people that makes you confide in him.

"Entomology, that is an interesting subject" he says instead. "If I may ask, how do you manage the, er... daylight lectures?"

[Arilus]

Aislinn
Near the Bookcase

Even though she didn't get a straight answer, Aislinn was actually quite pleased by Erich's response as it increased the probability that his attitude is fairly genuine. If he had ulterior motives, he likely would have given a plausible explanation, albeit one that was mostly lies. Instead, he had given an evasive answer that didn't actually say anything.

"The class scheduler is really quite fond of me," she explained with a wry smile. "He is kind enough to only assign me night classes."

She briefly contemplated whether to press the real issue further. The odds were currently on the side that he is as virtuous as he portrays himself. Given that prospect, there was a good chance she could get him to open up at least a bit more and that there was value in attempting to. She no longer possess true empathy, but experience told her that she was quite good at pretending she did.

"Given Tzimisce proclivities, I can imagine a few things any decent Kindred would find unacceptable. Hence why the Tzimisce have a hatred above all for my Clan. Was there any issue in particular?" she asked in her most compassionate tone of voice. She figured that framing the issue in such a way that confiding in her demonstrated a strength of character was the best tactic to choose. Mentioning the vendetta that has persisted throughout the millennium may have helped as well. Though she had been taught enough of Tremere history to know that she outright lied about the reason behind it. But since the Sabbat are not known for educating their childer too well, hopefully Erich would not catch her in that lie. She wasn't sure if many younger Tzimisce even know why they loathe the Tremere so, only that they are supposed to.

[OldRenovator]

Adrian
Sectional Couch

Adrian listened as Sadie spoke, not sure what to make of the movement toward her throat. He felt that knowing another's clan was important, but perhaps it was too personal to ask if someone chose not to offer it. Or perhaps she was, as she said, just pranking him. And then, of course, the blue-blood jab. Was that because of his clan, or because he looked a certain way? That was the nature of perceptions, he supposed.

Then she revealed a little more, and that she supposed she wasn't a part of any clan. "Alright." he managed to say, when his voice found him. Was there anything someone could say to something like that? Well, he had elicited her Clan, to which she didn't really seem to feel any particular membership. This Kindred culture was all too strange, too new. Despite his time as a Ghoul, and his experience in the mortal political world, he knew so little about Kindred social interactions. He had to learn more, but not at the risk of saying the wrong thing, or asking an offensive question.

"I really, truly, don't know what's going on." he decided to admit to her. "And it definitely makes me squirm. I feel like any minute now I'll be shot or eaten because I say the wrong thing to the wrong person. It's like... being in some strange foreign tribe, and if you show the bottoms of your feet they'll turn and rend you for disrespect."

[Strawberries]

Erich

Erich arches an eyebrow "I'm quite sure" he says carefully ""That the hatred you mention didn't come from ideological divergences, but goes all the way back to how your clan was founded" Erich may have tried to avoid the laboratories like the plague in those first, horrible couple of months before managing to disappear from Berlin, but he had perused the library extensively. If only because it gave him an excuse to postpone starting to help his sire with his 'experiments'. "Plus, you know, centuries of war fought over power and territory." It's entirely possible that she doesn't know about it, and it's attaching motivations to something she's been told just in passing. It's something that happened ages ago, really. "It makes for fascinating read, really, how vampire and human history intermingle" He smiles slightly. "But yes, my clan's reputation was...ah, part of what the divergence of opinion was about."

[Kynwric]

Sadie nodded, perhaps he wasn't the predator she feared him to be, but then she'd thought that of Marcel at first and she knew how that turned out. "Kindred society is easy, be the strongest and do what you will. Be the weakest and do what all others will. That is, unless your crazy, and then you do as none will." She brushed her hands down her skirt, smoothing it and then rested her hands in her lap. "Once you are strongest you get to make the rules... and the rules always favor the one in power."

[OldRenovator]

Adrian
Sectional Couch

Adrian’s shoulders dipped, then came back up. “Sounds simple.” He commented. “But maybe the trick is in telling how strong someone is. Not like anyone here is wearing rank.” He absently rubs his lapel. “I’ll just have to keep winging it. Got the introduction over with, didn’t get executed. Not sure what to do now.” He looks to Sadie, wondering if she had another revelation to provide in response to this next question. “What are you going to do, once we're released?”

[Arilus]

Aislinn
Near the Bookcase

Aislinn's ruse may have failed, as her hope that the Tzimisce did not know his history was unfounded, but her attempts to get Erich to open up were still proceeding favorably. All of her interactions with him thus far have left her fairly certain that his behavior is genuine. He would have played this conversation differently if he wanted to deceive her. Unfortunately, she was now locked into feigning partial ignorance of the early nights of her Clan's vampiric state.

"Truly? I know there were some reprehensible measures taken when we became Kindred, but I was unaware the Tzimisce were the victims of such desperation," she answered as if this was the first she heard on the matter. She also did not actually view the initiatives taken as unethical, but actually admired them. Against powerful and substantial opposition, her Clan had moulded events in their favor with strength, cleverness, and tenacity. But this apparently soft-hearted Kindred need not know that.

"Regardless of ancient history, I hold no grudges," she continued with a sweet and seemingly genuine smile. "And judging by your presence here, and this pleasant conversation, I extrapolate that it is the same for you. Subscribing to archaic antipathy serves no Kindred's benefit," she added, actually being mostly honest now. Though she was not actually concerned with mutual benefit, but rather her own, Meerlinda's, and her Clan's (in that order).

She had learned enough from what he had said to get a beat on him, assuming her conclusions were accurate. If he had indeed answered relatively truthfully, he abandoned the Sabbat because of moral objections to Tzimisce depravity. If he is truly as innocent as he seems, the thought occurred to her that he may even be working at a hospital to actually help the kine, but she was less confident of that assessment. Now she just had to see how well he responded to her statement as she had moved from the interrogation stage to laying the ground work for an affable association. If that was successful, possibly even friendship. However, it would be an illusion of friendship as she no longer had friends, only assets.

[Strawberries]

Erich
Near the bookcase

Erich surprises himself with a genuine laugh - they are a rare commodity, nowadays. "Believe me, miss, I'm German" he replies "I'm quite familiar with the concept of letting history stay in the past." He settles down in the armchair a bit more comfortably, moves his bag closer to the side and assesses her with a curious gaze "If it's not a breach of etiquette, could I ask how long have you been a vampire?"

[Arilus]

Aislinn
Near the Bookcase

Aislinn was profoundly pleased with the direction this conversation was taking. The Tzimisce seemed to be amicable and at ease. With his laugh and statement, she underwent the mental process for when she wanted to induce blushing to feign embarrassment, only to remember that her lack of circulation meant that was not possible without manipulating vitae.

His reference to German history led her to a surprising insight into her own psychology, however. She realized that the vilification some of the more bloody periods of German history no longer seemed wrong to her. The effects of a unified Germany that Europe had always feared, and rightly so, made her think of what the Tremere had done themselves. Which meant that if Tremere methods were justifiable, so were the Third Reich's. She knew she should be horrified by this realization, but she felt nothing, which in turn was itself disturbing. She quickly pushed such thoughts from her mind. Philosophizing could wait, she was cultivating an asset right now.

"Even if it is, I do not mind the question" she said, her attention back to the task at hand. "I was Embraced several months ago by one of my professors," she answered with a motion of her head clearly communicating a nonverbal "and yourself?"

[Kynwric]

“What are you going to do, once we're released?”

Saide flashed fangs for just a moment, "Eat. Which is answer to both what I'm doing next and what you should do having survived your introduction."

[McStabbington]

Near the bookcase

". . . And you remained in school?" Juan approached in his more typical, subdued fashion. He shot a glance at Joanna, hoping that she would follow his lead. She does get so excited these days. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but I heard you two talking about your work, and I felt this might be the best place to fit in. My fiance and I are both academics ourselves, and then I heard your last comment and I couldn't stop myself from jumping right in. I am still so new to this world that I find the reactions . . . fascinating" Juan offered, his voice smooth and modulated. In his own head, he wondered how these . . . neonates, he believed the term to be, would take the disruption. Joanna's hand squeezed his ever-so-slightly tighter in eager anticipation. His own hand remained steady.


Picture of Joanna:

http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-O8nRKHFrIp0/T5gLL1ZAaFI/AAAAAAAAF_M/EWL28CGhlW8/s1600/danielle-panabaker.03.jpg

[Arilus]

Aislinn
Near the Bookcase

Aislinn turned her attention to the approaching couple, grateful that her productive conversation with Erich hadn't been interrupted earlier. Now was as good a time as any, the important steps of initial contact had been fruitfully completed. Her curiosity on the Tzimisce was different than the confusion on these two. First, they apparently still put weight in the bovine institution of marriage. Second, how was it that both members of a couple were Embraced? There were several possibilities on that front, all of them bizarre.

"It is no problem, Mr Mendoza-Hernandez," she replied, replacing the disdain she felt for their purported engagement with outward geniality. She also minimized the seductive lilt she had refined during her mortal years lest she incite any jealously in the woman despite the temptation to try and see what happened. It could be amusing, but it was too unpredictable to risk.

"I don't believe I caught what Clan you represent," she announced, addressing both of them, knowing full well that neither had said. In fact, Joanna had yet to utter a single word. Chances were overwhelmingly in favor of the same Clan for both, so she would be satisfied if either answered her implied question, though she hoped her assumption in that regard would be explicitly confirmed or disproven.

[OldRenovator]

Adrian
Sectional Couch

The Ventrue grins, finding a bit of motivation in her words. "You know what, that's a damned fine idea." he says. "Pleasure meeting you, Sadie." He departs, leaving Elysium for some unknown fate in the streets of London.

[Griffith!]

Mercer

Mercer shrugged expansively - an awkward expression from someone who's shoulders don't line up - and flicked out his tongue, "He was a ghoul, she's older than you think - that's all you get for free. Now don't change the subject."

"See, I'm useful." he went on, becoming more animated as he spoke, making broad, expansive gestures with his hands, "They can afford to bump me up some status, 'cause I got a use. They know me, I been around. But you - napping nets you nothing, Rip Van Winkle. You think those old bloods care about the time or precious moments you lost? Them ain't dues, mate - we're talking politics, not personal tragedy. The question is what have you done for them?"

"Or what can you do for them. See, what you're hearing here is an insult, but the truth is I'm just worried about you. I can't think of much reason to take a stranger - one who ain't part of the community, who ain't been around for most of his unlife - and make him a card-carrying member of the Camarilla.", he paused again, tapping the side of his nose.

"See, what you should be wondering right about now ain't how they got you the invite. You got bigger problems, like... how expendable is a fresh-faced, untried member of the community?"

[Strawberries]

Erich
Near the bookcase

"Two years. I..." he starts, only to be interrupted by the couple - and there is surely a story to be told there. He wonders if they have been together since they were human, or gotten together as vampires If I had been with someone before the whole thing happened, would I have wanted him to go through all this, just to stay together? He is not sure he has an answer to that question. He had been single when he had been Embraced: a young's intern's lifestyle and working hours aren't exactly conductive to romance.

"Please mr Hernandez, miss" he says instead. He doesn't know her surname "Take a seat, if you like."

[DoctorFaust]

Cyrus

Cyrus nods, deep in though over what Mercer just said. "Well," he says, slowly. "That is a fair point. I probably should watch for someone trying to poke a hole in my roof or lighting me on fire. But if you're so damn special, why are you being introduced to the Primogen now, with the rest of us 'fresh-faced, untried' sorts? I mean, what, you're a..." he hazards a glance over to Mercer, trying to get a glance behind the mask. "You're a Nos, right? Sewer rat, I think I've heard you called. What difference does one rat make among a nest? And don't get me wrong, I appreciate the warning, or whatever that was, but if you're valuable, why aren't you an ancilla?"

[McStabbington]

By the bookcase

Joanna's smile was warm, but her eyes had a hard, predatory edge to them as she neatly held her skirt to her legs and took the offered seat from the doctor, her hand briefly breaking from his as he did so. "And you didn't answer my darling's question either." Juan's hand shot in, playfully tapping Joanna's leg with two fingers. Underneath, however, he hoped his gambit worked. "My love, you mustn't be so brusque! We are here to enjoy ourselves and meet new people." Their eyes met, and after a moment, her eyes melted into adoration, and she gently leaned over and kissed him. She broke off after a moment and turned back towards the Irish woman. "Of course. You must forgive my manners. It must be the excitement getting the better of me." A lovely, musical laugh burst from her slender throat, and her hand folded back into his. Juan's eyes tracked back to the Irish woman.

"If it puts you at ease, I suppose I'll go first. The truth is that I didn't offer my Clan because I'm not exactly certain. I've only been a Kindred for a few months, and I could barely tell you anything about your Clan, much less mine. To be honest, if you asked me what I am, I'm still more inclined to say "A graduate student" than anything else, since that's what defines me. That being said, most Kindred seem to think that I'm something called a "Gangrel." Apparently, these", and at this, he blinked once deliberately, and when his eyes opened again, they shone with a crimson light that might be called fire save for the icy, pale glow they cast and the hollow, dead vacancy they showed in his eyes. He blinked again, his eyes returning to their soulful brown, as he continued on with the same calm tone "are peculiar to one of these Clans. But I couldn't say myself, so I refrained. Now, my dear, why did you remain at the college? Were you not angry about your sire's choice?"

[Griffith!]

Mercer

Mercer smiled nastily as he lifted his mask, exposing his powdery skin to the light. A thin trickle of blood pooled at the corner of his mouth and drips toward his chin - a crimson tear on the bruised pulp of his face.

"Oy, no fair mate." he laughs, his accent suddenly thicker and more clownish, "Ain't no use playing silly buggers with you, guv. It's a right fair cop."

His smile fades and he tilted his head to the side, "Does it occur," he asked softer, his voice low and dry, "the word 'formally' has a number of connotations based on context and syntax? In some cases, it means a black tie affair. Our dear blue-blood is 'formally' attired. In other cases, it just means official. This ain't the first time I laid peepers on the Primogen, love. It ain't the first time they laid eyes on me. This is just the first time I had to bow."

He brightened up suddenly and continued, "As for what good one rat is in a nest, well... how did they get you your invitation? Your tracks were so well hidden, after all. Seems strange they could just drop a note on you, all sudden-like. Almost as though they were sort of... invisible."

He leaned in conspiratorially and added, "And it is so neat the kinds of things you can hear when nobody is around to listen."

[Arilus]

Aislinn
Near the Bookcase

"Well, by the time I concluded that I was not manifesting a mental illness, I found that the information and abilities I acquired were worth the price I paid for such access," Aislinn answered truthfully. She was always careful about giving out material that could be used against her, but sharing such autobiographical details would not leave her vulnerable. She also left out the bond of the Transubstantiation of Seven, as no one needed to know Tremere business besides the Tremere.

"I am curious as to how you two survived. If your sire or sires did not instruct you on even the most basic details of your new existence, you would have been a target for destruction," she continued, careful to make her tone as nonthreatening as possible. He had essentially admitting that he was not Embraced into the Camarilla or managed to escape the rather permanent punishment for illegal Embraces, but had not given any details as to which Sect the sire(s) may have belonged to. She had little personal experience with Gangrel, but knew they were disorganized and could be seen in any Sect or none of them.

She was rather taken aback by his reference to his identity as a "graduate student." Did he not realize what he is and that such classification is now superficial?

"As well as whether you share his heritage," she finished, speaking to Joanna. She regretted having to be so direct, but the interaction this far hinted to her that these two would be rather evasive. Even if they continued to do so, at least their handling of a blunt question would tell her something.

[McStabbington]

Near the bookshelf

Juan looked at Joanna, and she returned his gaze. In her upturned cheek and cocked eyebrow, he could see that their thoughts were identical: does she treat everything as a fencing match, or just conversations? He felt the corners of his mouth tugging upwards, and his fiance was being singularly unhelpful. She put all the steel she could into her face, and then turned to the Irish woman. "Sharing his heritage? Never! I'm doing my graduate studies in hematology, not cultural anthropology." Together, they burst out into a bout of laughter, his husky and gentle, her's musical and mellifluous

"Ah," Juan offered, dabbing at his eyes with one hand as his other wrapped around his fiance. "I'm sorry. Perhaps we shouldn't laugh at such things. But as I said in the introductions, I come from Los Angeles. Otherwise known as the center of Anarch territory. Now, I know of the traditions, and I know they carry far more weight here than where I'm from. Which is why I'm here. But I had no control in how I was made or where I came from, and it strikes me as a mite foolish and a lot forgetful of the history of the Anarch Free State itself to suggest I should bear any punishment merely for my origin. From what I've heard, the Camarilla of London is neither. And it should be enough to know that dear Joanna is with me."

At this, he turned to the Tzimisce. "But speaking of forgetfulness, I am forgetting our dear . . . doctor. The bag says one of two things, and you lack the superficiality to make a great hipster. What about you, my good sir. I have heard only a few whispers of these dread "Fiends", none of them positive. But you seem, if I may, positively amiable. I'm intensely curious about your story, my good man. Why of all Clans did you choose the Tzimisce, or are you merely making the best of the situation like our dear lady friend?"

[Strawberries]

Erich's mind scrambles to translate the expression 'hipster', and his eyes twinkle in amusement as he makes the connection "The second guess is correct. It's doctor Schneider." He inclines his head slightly in greeting - after more than a year, it's become automatical to present himself as such, and he's almost starting to recognise it as his own name to himself. "I prefer Erich, though."

He wonders how many more time the question will come up in the course of the evening. And Greg wonders why he has to basically drag him to Elysium if he wants him to show up. "Yes, er... it wasn't a choice, and I wasn't aware that vampire existed, at the time." he replies, a bit stilted. He hadn't been aware of a great many things, at the time. "I must admit, as a doctor" he says quietly, a piece of truth that he probably hadn't want to let slip out "the very fact that vam... that we exist presents a scientifical puzzle all by itself... but at least I can still do my job. The foundations of my knowledge haven't been shaken as far as to render me useless."

He seems to shake himself out of it as he addresses a wider, more relaxed smile to Johanna. Academy is an ambient he's always felt more comfortable in, a group of people that at the very least speak his own language "I'm a surgeon, myself, I've always been interested in the treatment of bleeding in the post surgery recovery. What is your research focusing on?"

[Lionheart]

After a good half hour of you talking amongst yourselves, the door to Elysium slams open dramatically.
Framed in the doorway is the prince, looking for all the world like an aged professor of literature.

He wears a full tweed suit with a tartan waistcoat and checked shirt beneath. He strides towards you, shaking his head as he glances at the silver pocket watch in his hand. He looks guiltily up at you, aware that he's late. He runs a hand through his thinning grey hair and adjusts his pince-nez and cravat.

"Awfully sorry about the wait chaps, I got caught up with a..." he trails off into nothing, waving his hand absently in the air. If you didn't know better, you could be forgiven for thinking him senile.

He stands awkwardly for a while, long enough for you all to assemble back at the stage, "As I say, sorry about the wait, and for calling you all here at this ungodly hour. I'm sure you'd all rather be doing something more interesting than meeting with the doddering old prince.

What was I saying? Ah yes, welcome to the Camarilla, or if you've been with us before, welcome to London! There are refreshments available, secured from a local hospital by our good friend Greg. He's the big ugly one in the corner, don't worry about remembering everyone's names, they'll stick eventually."

He waves his hand over the primogen council and gestures vaguely to the Toreador. "My son is the sherrif here, so any problems that require a permanent solution, talk to him. Greg's the go-to guy for any personal issues or problems. I suppose you could talk to your sires if you like, but Greg's friendly enough.

Anyway. Enough preamble. You're probably wondering why I brought you all here. Some more than others" he nods towards Cyrus. "The truth is we have a bit of a situation on our hands, and it's dangerous for Kindred to be wandering the streets alone. Some more than others." This time his nod is directed at Aislinn.

I had to bring you here in something of an unorthodox manner, our Scourge recently met an unhappy accident, so I had Greg dig you up. I hope you don't mind.

For now, just keep your eyes open, something is killing our brethren, and I'd feel awful if any of you were to become its victims."

Finished, he stands nervously for a few seconds before climbing onto the stage in a less than graceful manner, and falling into conversation with the primogen. They seem agitated, and he is doing his best to placate them.

There is a trestle table set up in the darkest corner of the room with ice boxes and blood bags. All are stamped with the Royal Hospital's emblem.

[Arilus]

Aislinn was quite surprised at how amicable and appealing the Prince seemed to be. Though she reminded herself that no Kindred becomes Prince through charm alone, and that underestimation would be a dangerous mistake.

She certainly perked up with the news he delivered. There were too many possibilities for a hunter of Kindred with an emphasis on the Tremere. Her best guess was an Assamite threat, but the list of entities with grievances against her Clan was a long one. Even more disturbing was the absence of Primogen von Schreiber...could she have met her Final Death? If so, the danger is indeed a serious one. Destroying a Primogen is no small feat.

She headed over to the table with the provided blood meal. There was nothing like the warm, pulsing sustenance from a living victim, but who turns down free victuals? However, she did test it first with a drop on her finger after removing a glove. She always kept an eye on her drinks when she was alive to avoid getting drugged and she now applies the same philosophy to ex vivo blood, fearing the blood bond. If she was satisfied that it was indeed taken from kine, she planned to sit and think while consuming the cold nourishment unless something else drew her interest, hoping it was whole blood and not those unpalatable packed erythrocytes. She was always careful, but she needed to think about any additional measure she could take given the news she had just received.

A Taste for Blood: [roll0]: 6 Successes, 1 Blood Point Spent

[McStabbington]

Juan laughed again, his laughter interrupted by the arrival of the Prince. He watched the man carefully. Even he had heard of Mithras, and Mithras this man was not. Still, it would not do in the slightest to underestimate the man. Juan himself had, in the span of a few months, uncovered powers that far surpassed those of mere mortals. And joke though he might, he could not help but wonder what a year, a decade a century might uncover. That this Prince already had those centuries to explore and learn meant that Juan had best be cautious. Doubly so if someone was going about killing Kindred. But for now, the most important thing was to be personable. He turned back to the Tzimisce.

"My dear Erich, you have no idea what danger you're in, asking my dear Joanna about her work. It is one of her great passions, and she will talk your ear off if you are not careful." A playfully accusatory glance met his in Joanna's gaze. He innocently kissed her nose, then touched her cheek. "I see I have spoken too much. I will go and get both Erich and I a blood pack before someone bogarts them all." He left his fiance with the doctor, got up and went to the cooler. He waited for the red-headed woman who had been sitting with them, then rooted out two from the bottom of the cooler and returned. Joanna, he found, was still winding up.

". . . The original work I was doing, like I said, was in figuring out how and why blood types emerge. Not the genetic part, of course, but the actual physical mechanics of how the bone marrow constructs the hemoglobin cell. The thinking was that if we can figure out how the marrow produces the microscopic surface structures, we can alter that production process, and as such we can make any person a universal recipient or donor as needed. It would revolutionize surgery and medicine in general." Her eyes met Juan's as he came back, and the beautiful blush rose in her cheeks as his words came back to her. Nevertheless, she continued on.

"But now, I'm more interested in Kindred blood. You are right that it has some fantastic properties, and the truth is I have no idea how any of it works. I'm only beginning to unlock the secrets of vampire blood, but at present, I'm somewhat stymied by the lack of diversity. Juan is kind enough to provide as much as he can, and I'm starting to clue in to the structural changes vampires make to the blood they ingest, but Juan is only one vampire, and we're still not clear about all the details of his lineage yet, which is something every vampire seems to think is critical. If I had more samples, work might go faster, but vampires don't seem too keen on sharing a detailed story about their geneology and their particular abilities and hindrances." She shrugged and gently folded herself against Juan's shoulder as he sat next to her and gently tossed a blood bag to Erich.

[Arilus]

Satisfied that the provided blood was safe, Aislinn licked the drop from her finger and replaced her glove. She had barely begun imbibing it when she overheard the conversation continuing between Erich, Juan, and Joanna with her heightened senses. At first she had a haughty response, hearing of Joanna's haematological interests. Blood types can indeed be altered with bone marrow transplants, but the solution to her research will be genetic modification or synthetic blood, not physiological manipulation. And neither of those technologies are close enough to viable human use for practical applications. Besides, who even cares about giving the kine more access to blood for transfusion?

However, when the conversation turned to Kindred vitae, she had an idea. No one knew more about vitae than the Tremere, and are the only ones to understand it well enough to synthesize its potential. This Tzimisce knew how the Tremere became vampires, and she walked over to interdict any revelations. It's not that Aislinn was afraid of Joanna uncovering anything that could possibly compromise the monopoly of thaumaturgy or the Clan, she just wanted to run interference. The less other Clans knew about the Tremere, the better.

"What did your examination of Mr Mendoza-Hernandez's vitae show?" she asked in while returning to her seat. She had already examined the morphology of her own vitae out of curiosity, and it was as nebulous and uninformative under an optical microscope as she expected. The congealed Quintessence that is Kindred vitae could not, by its very nature, be understood through conventional empiricism. Even if she was only an apprentice, safely working thaumaturgy at all requires a thorough understanding of adapted Hermetic principles. But Joanna seemed very talkative when it came to her interests, thereby giving Aislinn the perfect resource to exploit for her purposes.

[DoctorFaust]

The conversation between Cyrus and Mercer comes to an abrupt halt when the Prince arrives. Throughout his little speech, Cyrus remains respectfully silent, but almost immediately after the Prince crosses out of Cyrus' line of sight, he slumps back down in his chair and grins. "Well," Cyrus says, "Our Prince certainly knows what obfuscation is. Doubt anyone with that kind of personality would actually get anywhere in the Kindred. And while this has been an enlightening experience, I feel the pressing need for a drink. So, if you'll excuse me..."

He stands, picks up his jacket, and walks over to the pile of blood bags, snagging two. After watching the Irish woman take a drink, he tears one of the tabs on the bottom open and begins drinking it down, all the while wandering closer to the Kindred that appears to be a little girl.

Sectional Couch
Not too long after Adrian departs Elysium, Cyrus takes a seat besides Sadie, offering the second bag to her. "Want some, little miss? Not as good as fresh, but sure as hell better than going thirsty."

[Strawberries]

Erich had interrupted himself abruptly when the Prince had come in, standing up from his chair in a haste. He had seen the Prince before, of course, and while he hadn't spoken to Erich a lot (the entire affair had involved him standing silent and observing while Erich tried to explain the story of his life to a quite amused-looking Greg, who kept asking uncomfortable questions), he is not naïve enough to think for a second that the kindly old grandfather act is genuine. Even Erich knows that that's not how you raise to power in kindred society, Sabbat or Camarilla.

The news, though, had been very worrying indeed. And while there are a lot of things that Erich wants to ask (Do you have any idea of what's happening? Are they targeting only vampires? Is any human at risk?) he is slightly preoccupied that it might not really be his place to. 'Keep your head down', Greg's voice comes back again to his mind.

So, that's what he does, quietly going back to where he was before and resuming the conversation. When Juan comes back with the bag of blood and tosses it to him he would see him engaged in the exchange, asking questions and contributing observations quite excitedly, citing scientific journals and clinic histories, and it's perhaps surprising how alive he looks at the moment, down to a slightly raised rate of breathing because of the animate discussion.

"'I have performed tests, of course I have" he replies when the conversation shifts to kindred blood. "But, I don't think it's something we have understood how to examine yet. It's blood, for all intents and purposes, old blood, if I were to hazard a guess. And skin, as well... it's dead tissue. Nothing remarkable about it. But look. Look carefully. " He extends his left arm, rolling up the sleeve of the chequered shirt, and carefully drags a finger from the wrist to the elbow. His own flesh parts under it, leaving an indented groove of skin behind. The process doesn't seem to hurt him, he just looks very focused, a surgeon at work. He waits a few seconds for Joanna to examine him, then rubs it with the flat of his hand, undoing the change "By what we know of medicine, this shouldn't happen. Skin and muscle don't have the elasticity to be manipulated this way. And yet it does. There is clearly something very big that we are missing."

I'm calling that a use of Malleable visage and spending 1 BP. Not bothering to roll because how trivial the modification is and how high his medicine attribute are (basically I'm calling that an automatic success), but tell me if you think that's wrong.

Also, I always wanted to portray a Tzimisce that is, in essence, having a nerdgasm on Vicissitude. :smalltongue:

[McStabbington]

Nerdgasm challenge: accepted.


Juan practically had to hold Joanna back from staring with an interest that passed "avid" and headed deep into "frantic" territory. For himself, he had to say he was intrigued as well. He'd heard of the flesh-crafting arts of the Tzimisce, and it seemed as if the stories were true. He'd have to start wearing gloves to shake Erich's hand, of course, but the larger implications for what he could do now that he was a vampire were staggering. He'd been able to do some basic shapeshifting, of course, and he'd seen some of quite exotic skills exhibited by his sire, but the thought that he might one day be able to do . . . that. The only word that came to him was Spock's old phrase: fascinating.

Joanna broke off her reverie to offer an offhand response to the redhead. "Um . . . the data supported no firm conclusions as of yet. Put more simply, I'm barely out of the 'put it in a petri dish and poke it' phase, much less knowing enough about Kindred blood to form firm hypotheses. And even if I did have a firm hypothesis, any good scientist knows that you have to establish control groups and experimental groups to test the null. I would need far more research subjects before I could do much more than offer guesses, much less any actual scientific conclusions."

Juan for his part jumped in at the moment, noting carefully that red seemed to like asking questions, but didn't seem to like answering them. "That's my girl. I was a philosophy major in undergrad, and one of the things we read was Karl Popper. Popper's the godfather of the philosophy of science, and science is defined by the ability to take a statement and create a test that could falsify it.

Which is precisely why I . . . we find that little demonstration so fascinating, Erich. Here you are, a medical doctor, clearly knowing that your little procedure will work. I'm assuming you've done it enough to know that given cause x, you get result y. And yet, you don't seem to know why or through what mechanism. By your own admission, skin doesn't have the physical properties to do it. And yet, the very consistency of the immediate preceding act and immediate following act suggests that there is at least some kind of correlation if not causation, even if we don't know what the correlative or causative agents are. My Joanna is going to figure it out, I just know it."

At this, he paused and turned to the redhead. "Um, was I right in hearing that you were a Tremere? My knowledge of Clans is still a little fuzzy, but I thought I heard something about you guys being magicians or something that work off blood. I'm not sure if I believe in magic, although a minute ago I didn't believe in using your hand to peel skin and restore it either, but if that's true, perhaps you could explain this to us rank amateurs?"

[Arilus]

Aislinn was absolutely ecstatic to be able to witness Vicissitude for the first time. Seeing the eerie ease of which the flesh was shaped made her start to understand how one could take the ability too far. Though she doubted the Gangrel would find it as impressive given their own similar but distinct capacity to change shape. She had heard rumors within the Pyramid that a few early Tremere manifested the flesh shaping arts of the Tzimisce as a byproduct of their origins, and she idly wondered that if she managed to get Erich to teach her whether she would find it easier because of this possible fact.

"I am a woman of science, so I understand your skepticism, Mr Mendoza-Hernandez. And yes, we Tremere are indeed able to utilize vitae in rather...unconventional ways," she answered vaguely with a playful look. "But a piece of friendly advice: cast aside the traditional mentality of scientists on the other side of the Masquerade. The very existence of Kindred defies scientific explanation, even on a level as fundamental as thermodynamics. I used to find this line irritatingly naïve, even given his father's ghost, but Hamlet turned out to be right when he said: 'there are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.' "

Aislinn felt rather smug with her answer. She spoke quite a bit without saying much of anything.

Joanna's talk of hypotheses made Aislinn feel like testing one of her own, as she just noticed that only three of the four of them were consuming blood. It would also let her divert attention from a follow up question, feeling like her statement was too delightfully enigmatic to let someone ruin the note.

"Oh, how rude of us! Here we are philosophizing and your dear fiancé forgot to get you anything. Would you like something to drink, Joanna?" she asked with a sickly sweet smile, gesturing to the partially empty bag of blood in her hand. She was sure the others would immediately pick up on the dramatic change in both speech pattern and tone, but that would suit her purposes just fine.

[Griffith!]

Mercer

Mercer-sounds-like-mercy skulked around to the table with 'refreshments', but didn't help himself. He was full enough at the moment, and the healthy paranoia of the sewer rats kept him from fulling trusting the offerings on the table. Instead, he was doing his third favorite thing in all the world, right behind balancing precariously on the ledge of a seven-story high window sill and watching the football. He was listening.

The science was interesting, but a bit above his head. And any talk of medicine? Gibberish. But the Tzimisce show was interesting. And the talk of Tremere blood magic was always an attention grabber. But they weren't giving him anything he could use. Unpronounceable had fingered the inconsistencies with "Joanna" too, and that was nice. That told him something.

Deductively, he was getting a pretty sharp picture.

The Bonesaw was a real, genuine doctor - just like ma' used to date, or at least like she wished she used to date. Hippocratic and hypocritical and everything. Hard to do no harm when your existence relies on doing harm. Blood bags were nice, but eventually, you had to bite something. Statistically, the fiends were nasty, sadistic crapbags with no discretion. That made one pretending to be a nice guy a statistical outlier. And those had a bad habit of wrecking the curve. Usually, it was a sign of errors in the experiment, and you had to exclude those from the data set. So, a Tzimisce-not-Tzimisce. A self-defining contradiction. In other words, another mystery.

Unpronounceable was already getting on his nerves and he'd only been around her a couple minutes. She was coming across as a typical Warlock - confident, erudite, arcane, pretentious. Quoting Shakespeare in a London theater. No fun - soft target. Too easy.

And then there was the odd man out. Juanny. John boy. The one with no clan. He was giving away an awful lot of information for someone playing it so close to the vest. So how much could be trusted and how much could be thrown away? And what the hell was a Karl Popper? "Joanna" was interesting. She was kind of an extra - an appendage, the kind that doesn't get it's own introduction but does all kinds of walking and talking anyway. Kine, ghoul, blood doll... she didn't seem like a Cainite.

Cyrus... naive, inexperienced, and easy to needle. Just like the song says... the boy's a time bomb. (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DhKHAopx7D0) But then, he had known what to call Obfuscate and what it did. Not something you learn in torpor and not exactly the commonest of common knowledge. So maybe there was more there than just a Chav.

That left Sadie, whom he was already looking into from a safe distance, in case she turned out to be a grenade without the pin in, and the Mutt - who had actually kind of vanished from sight. Nice trick.

The Ventrue had popped off before the prince arrived, so he was going to be dead in a few nights anyway. May as well have shown up with his arse out of his trousers shouting Anarch taglines. Bad manners, and he was still persona non grata, having cut short his own introduction. What a waste. Tch, Fledglings.

And that more or less summed it up. "Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more; Or close the wall up with our English dead." he said aloud, and then looked around as though surprised. "What?" he asked after a long pause, "I thought we were doing a thing."

[Kynwric]

Sectional Couch
Not too long after Adrian departs Elysium, Cyrus takes a seat besides Sadie, offering the second bag to her. "Want some, little miss? Not as good as fresh, but sure as hell better than going thirsty."

Sadie was making a paper airplane out of one of the pamphlets when Cyrus approached, she glanced up at him and watched as he sat down right next to her. She stilled herself, a hand running immediately to feel the square lump in her pocket. Once he spoke she reached out for him to hand her the offered blood bag. Once she had it Sadie examined the man next to her far more carefully while she drank down the contents. She hadn't been kidding earlier about going to eat as soon as she was done here, she was far more hungry than she should have been. "This is much better when it is from a warm, fresh vessel and not stored in a bag, I think it is the same for mortal food... fresh being best." She all of a sudden remembered her manners, or at least remembered that she wanted to use them. "Thank you, sir." Cyrus was both setting off her alarms and also providing her with a meal all at once, and that also set off alarms in her head. She wanted to bolt, to head for the safety of her home or the anonymity of the street, at least there she could hunt, than continue to stay here. But here was what was demanded for the moment, and she still had more people to explore. "Cyrus Rheem, man with no Sire... you know that is impossible, right? And that one day the man who made you will come to find you and take you away. Again. That is a very peculiar accent you have..."

[DoctorFaust]

Cyrus laughs, once. "I'm aware that I do have a sire. I was just never claimed by one. And yes, I'm sure that one day, he or she will come back. And on that day, I'll be ready with silver, and fire, and rage. As for the accent, I'm... well, you could say that I'm not from around here. At least not originally. Thought I had gotten rid of the worst of the drawl, though."

"And you're called Sadie, right? You been in this city long?"

[Kynwric]

"My Sire named me Sadie, yes. Greeting a Sire with rage and Fire, it somehow seems appropriate, especially one who misbehaves, as yours seems to have. Abandoning a babe in the woods, so to speak. As for how long I've been here, not long and too long. It all depends on how you measure. I was made near here, but I've only just returned again, this time." Sadie fidgeted a but more, finally getting her hand inside her pocket and grasping her lighter. "It is just obvious to a native that you aren't from anywhere near here. Your patterns and word choices and... drawl... aren't quite right."

Sadie tosses the empty bag onto the table and glances left then right, "That was not satisfying. It is shameful to be reduced to cold blood, especially here in Elysium."

[DoctorFaust]

"Mm." His eyes flicker down to her pocket as she grabs at her lighter. "Would you meet your sire like that?"

He quickly raises a hand, and continues, "Don't want to answer that, don't have to. Not trying to dig up old pain. And yeah, shame that the blood is cold, but it is red, wet, and oh-so-fine. Been having to drink a lot of it since I came here."

[Kynwric]

Sadie smiles a very malevolent smile, "Oh, I don't mind answering it. He knows what I think of him. I'd meet my Sire in the Sahara at noon on Sunday... just for the pleasure of watching him go first."

Sadie notes the glance down and stills her hand in her pocket, and she was beginning to wish she'd worn something more professional. The only upside to this outfit is it made big men like Cyrus and Adrian treat her like a child, and it would make other men and women in the regular world treat her as someone to be cared for and not to be treated like a predator. "I'd really like it if a tour bus of Spaniards came by, or maybe even Greeks. They taste much better than the local stock Brits do; and the pheromones they give off while being bitten. Scrumptious. You know what pheromones are in a bag? Not a one, the stupid cows do this in purpose as if they'll make it into heaven if they give enough to others."

[Strawberries]

"Correlation, yes, of some sort" Erich acknowledges Juan's point "And I am quite able to predict and control the results as you guessed, but the underlying principle... " He makes a little self deprecating smile, and uses a British expression that he's picked up from one of the nurses. It is, he finds, quite an effective one. "It does my head in."

He shakes his head at Aislinn's advice "Not a good advice, I don't think, miss O'Feary" he tells her "Scientific mentality is the greatest asset we could keep in this world. We didn't throw away classical physics just because we discovered quantum mechanics, after all. Our existence simply means that the law of the universe as we know them are incomplete, not that they are wrong." He smiles at Joanna, sure she'll share his point of view. He has seen that kind of mind before, and it's familiar and comforting. Aislinn... he doesn't really like her. She says she is a woman of science, but I don't really think she finds any joy in it. And Erich don't trust scientists that don't find joy in their work. They remind me too much of Luther, he thinks with a shiver.

[Arilus]

Holding up a finger to communicate that she'll be right back to the conversation, Aislinn turns her eyes to the hard-to-keep-track-of Mercer and grins mischievously.

"Why did you stop? That was a lovely rendition. I think the next part goes..." she pauses, as if trying to recall a memory. "Ah: 'Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage and then is heard no more,' " she recited in exaggerated iamb. She wanted to be clear she was riposting, not threatening the Nosferatu.

"Sorry about that, where were we? Oh yes, there is where you are wrong, good doctor. Relativity and quantum physics have disproved Newton's laws. Classical physics is only still used to approximate reality for masses and speeds that humans usually deal with," she stated. As one who adores debate, she wanted to delve into how magic can bending the very rules of the universe, creating a clear dichotomy of natural and supernatural. But educating others on magic would only serve to demystify thaumaturgy, and therefore she would have to abstain.

"This serves to illustrate my point. Science itself can be compared to Newtonian physics. It can accurately be applied under most conditions, yet there are extremes whereby it fundamentally fails in its approximations. I do not advocate a disorganized mindset, mind you. On the contrary, systematic and empirical methods are the only way to rigorously understand anything. I only meant that the null hypothesis is no longer that a phenomenon does not exist, but that it does."

Aislinn felt invigorated with this conversation. Most Tremere are too ambitious and focused exclusively on thaumaturgy to have debates of this nature. It reminded her more of her living days at Trinity College. And the handicap of only getting to use part of her knowledge in the discourse made it all the more exciting. She hadn't forgotten Joanna, however, and turned her attention back to her, the offer to provide her with blood clearly still on the table.

[DoctorFaust]

"I see you're a connoisseur, then. Personally, I prefer the taste of the French or Southerners. Much richer taste, not quite as spicy as Spaniards or Grecians, and if you get lucky, there's even a hint of barbecue in their blood." After finishing his blood, he tosses the empty bag onto the table beside Sadie's. "But, unfortunately, it doesn't appear that all of our time here will be spent debating the merits of different blood. If someone diablerized a Scourge, we may have a serious threat on our hands."

[Kynwric]

Sadie shrugged, she turned her attention to gathering by the bookcase for a moment while listening to Cyrus. "There's always some trouble here, Anarchs, Sabbat, neonates disrespecting their elders. It's all a part of the plan..." the way she said plan made it sound like some grand conspiracy. Of course, it might be. Or it might not. Or it might just depend on how you look at things. Or she just could be crazy. Who knew?

"But what's really weird is that the there are factions of the Sabbat in the Camarilla here now, perhaps even within Elysium now. Or maybe that's what they want us to think? Diablerizing a Scourge would certainly take a powerful individual or group."

[Danteric]

Seat near the book case.


After being led out of the room with the other Neonates, Hayden slowly made his way over towards the chairs. He didnt want to be here, under the scrutiny of every major kindred in the city, it felt like a single mistake could ruin everything. Finally sitting down in a chair, Hayden looks around the room, watching as everyone began talking to each other to pass the time. Whats taking the prince so long I wonder, i'm getting pretty hungry, wouldn't mind a bite, he thought to himself.

After what seemed to be hours, a man finally entered the theater and introduces himself as Prince of the city, and began explaining the reasons for him being late. Something attacking kindred on the streets? Thats not good, maybe the prince is right, safety in number. he thought. Looking over at the other Neonates in the room, he notices a few of them go over to the newly placed container filled with blood bags. It was then that his hunger kicked in, his beast gnawing at him to feed. After waiting for the other neonates to grab their own packs, Hayden makes his way towards the container, his beast gnawing at him inside for blood.

Picking through the remaining packs, Hayden picks out three different blood packs, and makes his way back to his chair. Sitting down, Hayden begins to tear open a corner of one of the blood bags, and begins to drink it dry. The cold blood washed down his throat, its sweet yet cold liquid coated his throat, satisfying his hunger for a short while, but left a craving for fresh blood. He made a mental note to go for a hunt later on, after he had met the others. Hayden waited in his seat after drinking the remaining two blood bags, and waits to see if anyone would approach to talk the Gangrel.

[Lionheart]

The prince and the primogen break from their conversation, anyone watching can see that none of the parties look particularly happy.

The prince waves a curt farewell to you as he heads straight back out of the door. Obviously he's a busy man. The primogen also disperse to some extent, the Nosferatu moves over to Greg, the Ventrue and Malkavian migrate to the Harpies. The Brujah approaches Cyrus and Sadie and looks them up and down curiously. "Wotcha mates?"

Thomas Barker approaches Hayden, the look of disdain on his face never shifting. "Hello old chap. Nice to see my folk are keeping the line going.
I suppose I'll be the one looking after you while you're here then.

What brings you to London?"

Michael Smith sidles up to the main group, his perfectly mannered movements almost imperceptible out of the corners of your eyes. He stands patiently beside you all, waiting for a lull in the conversation, inspecting his manicured hands as he does so.

[McStabbington]

Juan sipped at his blood pack, doing his best to savor the fare. A poor meal, to be sure; he was getting more and more at ease with his new feeding regimen, and the pure exhilaration that came with it. Or at least, came with live food struggling to escape their doom.

He piped up only once, to Aislinn. "Ah, I see we have an acolyte of Kuhn in our midst. But it strikes me that our disagreement stems from our use of the word 'science' to describe two different things. You seem, and by all means correct me if I'm wrong, to speak about 'science' as an abstract body of knowledge about how the world works. Vampires and their abilities currently stand outside that body of knowledge. Ergo, examination of vampires and their abilities is unscientific."

"But I must say that I was using the word exactly the why I meant when I invoked Popper: a statement is 'scientific' if we can find some way to falsify the statement. The beauty of what our good friend Erich just showed us is that we can create all kinds of falsifiable statements, provided we know enough about the system. His skin may not have acted in a way that comports with the laws of physics as we understand them, but they nevertheless acted in a way that is consistent and replicable. Which means that his abilities follow rules, rules that through testing and falsifying, we can come to understand. And once we understand his ability, we can replicate it, and modify it, and improve upon it to the limits that our new frames allow, which appear to be nigh-limitless given enough time. Just consider the implications!"

And it was just then that he noticed the Primogen. Juan gestured to his fiance, and with a few quick and graceful moves, had scooted down the couch, leaving ample room for the newcomer to the conversation. "Mr . . . Smith, I believe the name was. Please, won't you join us? I can only imagine what a Kindred of your experience could add to the conversation."

[Arilus]

Aislinn nonverbally acknowledged the Primogen lounging nearby, but her interest was currently absorbed in debate.

"The error there is that a fundamental assumption when applying the scientific method is that the underlying laws of the universe are consistent. For example, though the force of gravity is variable depending on the distance from the mass, gravity will always produce consistent and predictable results. You can utilize aerofoils or exothermic reactions to counteract it, but gravity is still acting upon those bodies.

"What, then, happens to the scientific method when the laws of the natural world are subjectively altered? If results are usually predictable, but can sometimes contradict those very predictions, then science loses its rigor if applied to those extraordinary situations. No one would ever deny the Earth's gravity, but how can science deal with a body that sometimes experiences it and sometimes does not with no accompanying physical or chemical changes? You must then either concede that gravity is fickle or that there are phenomena that do not act in conformity with universal laws. And that is where one of the underlying assumptions of science, and therefore science itself, fails."

After that elucidation, she began sizing up the nearby Primogen, figuring that cozying up to one as old and accomplished would be invaluable. Especially if the Tremere are indeed in even greater danger than usual. Though she was feeling somewhat irritated that Joanna had given no response to the offer for blood. She was anticipating something that could give her a read on what exactly this alleged haematologist is, but had not expected her to utterly ignore the offer.

[Kynwric]

Sadie looks up at the Brujah woman, "Wotcha," her more conservative accent rolling the word very differently than Joy's had. "I'm glad we're being so informal already and are apparently friends as well." While she spoke she examined the woman who had claimed to be Brujah and the Childe of one the Harpies, not that Sadie herself truly cared what the fashion mavens thought was the height of couture for the Kindred, it didn't usually come in her size.

[Griffith!]

Mercer

I love it when people get the joke, Mercer considered, reflecting on Shakespearean quotations, in that absolutely despising it kind of way. The conversation went on around him unabated, or more accurately, went on five feet in front and slightly to the left. Most of it was unintelligible, science this and quote that and the hypotenuse of the triangle and other meaningless jargon.

The only parts of it he understand were obvious. Still, best to make notes. Something said now could be important later - even if just by luck.

And then the Primogen joined the group, and all the fun was ruined. Michael Smith - a name as bland as black pudding, so it had to be real - was hardly the sort to spend much time in the presence of sewer rats. Too clean, too fastidious, and too prickly for his brand of banter. Still, you don't not acknowledge an elder. That would be bad form.

"All right boss?" Mercer asked with exaggerated care, the general mocking tone tempered somewhat by common sense and respect, "Been awhile, eh? How are the wife and kids? And by wife and kids, I obviously mean hairdresser. Been keeping you solid?"

"Looks like... yeah."

[Lionheart]

Smith shoots Mercer a look, a combination "just realised you're here" and "I appear to have stepped in dog excrement"

He flashes a smile too tight to be genuine at Juan and Aislinn. "Don't let me interrupt. Your discussion is... fascinating" his voice is as deadpan and bland as his name, making it impossible to tell whether he's being sarcastic or not.
"When you're done, I do have some business to discuss."



Joy smiles at Sadie, her eyes narrowed, trying to work out whether she's dealing with a child or not. "Yeah, I'm not really one for formalities." she shrugs, almost embarrassed. "Just thought I'd get to know somebody here..." her voice trails off pathetically.

[DoctorFaust]

Cyrus smiles and stands at that, offering a hand to Joy. "Well then, as a fellow Brujah, nice to meet you. What brings you to the Big Smoke?"

[Strawberries]

"I've seen nothing yet that implies the underlying law of this... condition aren't consistent, if not yet, ah, understood" nozing, he pronounces, his accent becoming considerably more evident on this last sentence, probably because this is an argument he cares about "It can be replied.... sorry, replicated, I meant. It can even be woven into standard medical practice. You say that finding a phenomenon that don't act in conformity to 'universal' laws would be a failure for science. I postulate that it would be no different than when the heliocentric model replaced the Ptolemaic system. It would simply imply that universal laws as we understand them have to be...ah, amended."

He had been so engrossed in discussion that he hadn't noticed the Primogen and the Nosferatu getting closer, and it's just the latter's voice that alerts him of their presence. He startles - again, for those observant enough to catch it, surprisingly life-like, down to a slight hitching of his breath - as he tries to remember which one this is Toreador bloke, he suddenly remembers Greg saying, and he hadn't expanded a lot more than that, other than to say 'You have your bloody Voivods, Camarilla has their primogens. One or the other, people you don't want to get on the bad side of, Sabbat boy, and you already messed up with the first ones, didn't you?'

"Please mr Smith, don't let us keep you waiting" he replies politely. Politeness never hurts, especially not when you are a... (shall we say political refugee? his mind interjects, amused) depending on the good will of others for your continued existence. "What did you want to talk to us about?"

[Lionheart]

Joy smiles at Cyrus, her fangs protruding slightly as her lips draw back. "Born and died mate, born and died.
What about you? You've got too much of an accent to be from 'round here. Yank aren't ya?"



Smith bows slightly to Erich's response. "Thank you doctor, it is a matter of some import.

As you may or may not be aware, our cousins in the Sabbat have something of an initiation ceremony for their new recruits, something to test their mettle and tie them all together. The Camarilla have put paid to these barbaric practices, too much violence and threat of a Masquerade breach.

In your case though," He gestures to all the neonates in reach, "I believe we can make an exception.

You may have heard that our Scourge has recently come a cropper. Damn shame, he was a friend of mine, and a talented warlock, if Isabella's word is anything to go by. His loss lessens us all.

He bows his head in silence for a moment, as if he felt emotion at the Scourge's passing, then instantly brightens as he continues speaking.
"However, as Sheriff, it is my duty to see that no breaches occur, and our late friend has left a little bit of a situation on our hands.
A group of Anarchs found their way into the city recently, and he was on his way to deal with them when the accident occurred.
Obviously, they're still out there, and someone needs to bring them to heel, either by blood or by fire.
Since you've all yet to prove yourselves, I thought I might give you a chance to show some initiative." He smiles a predatory smile, his eyes still hidden behind his shades. It's obvious that this 'opportunity' is more command than suggestion.

[Arilus]

Aislinn gave an imperceptible sigh at Erich's trite answer. She valued an adaptable mind, and sticking to old paradigms when there is compelling contradictory evidence is dull and inflexible. The doctor was truly a victim of the Masquerade, it seemed. More fortunate news is that Isabella's absence did not seem to have been caused by what she had feared.

"Of course, Sheriff," she replied with disingenuous deference. Dealing with a few Anarchs was not her idea of time well spent, but she was new in town and it would be prudent to act on anything she could do to curry favor and respect in London. Besides, since the "suggestion" was aimed at the other neonates as well, it would give her an opportunity for a more thorough assessment of them. Talk is cheap, as they say, but actions tend to be more honest.

"Do you have any more details on these nuisances?"

[McStabbington]

Juan listened intently. His response was short and to the point, losing a bit of his Midwestern American accent in the process. "What are the rules of engagement?"

[DoctorFaust]

"Born and died, yeah. Think there was another in the group that was introduced, John or something." Cyrus turns back to Sadie, saying, "If it's a Coven, there might be an issue. I don't see Anarchs being able to bring down a Scourge unless there were a lot of them."

[Strawberries]

What? No, no, no, I'm not here for this, I don't want to do this is all Erich can think about. He shouldn't have come, he knows. He should have made some excuses to avoid it, consequences be damned. Because politics are exactly the sort of thing Erich wants no involvement in. He launches a rather desperate look in Greg's direction, but it looks like the Nosferatu is slightly too far away to catch it - or at least so it seems. Erich has learned not to assume anything when Nosferatu are involved.

Why do you think I would consent to such a thing and I'm a doctor, I don't harm people are just two of the several things he wants to say right now, but he remembers Greg's advice just in time. Don't make bloody waves. Which would have been much easier if he had allowed him to stay in his hospital instead of dragging him in this situation. He still has to say something, though. "I'm sorry, but how do you exactly expect me to be able to help?" he tries, carefully.

[Griffith!]

Mercer

Anarch hunting. His talents were wasted Anarch hunting - the only fun part was in figuring out where they were, and then after that it became depressingly physical. The last time he had to run this kind of errand, he'd come back two nights later, covered in gore and missing three fingers. Try riding the tubes like that.

He didn't even have anything against the Anarch community, such as it was. It was all politics, but they were refreshingly honest about it, in the way only slogan-shouting proto-punk douche bags could be. And the parties? Drunken shouting matches, every one. Good for the heart, or probably the blood sacs.

"Right-o, boss." Mercer sing-songed in a dry tone, his head bobbing back and forth, "I'll need eighty guns, a box of dynamite, the Iron Lady's pants, and whatever you guys are having. If I'm not back in time for tea, alert the queen."

[Lionheart]

Smith smiles at your responses.

"It's good to know you're all so keen to assist the Camarilla. The Prince will be most grateful.

My dear doctor, you are needed more than anyone else on this mission, perhaps the Anarchs have taken some mortals as theirplaythings. Who is to see to their injuries but you?" he frowns, "Greg told me that you weren't like other Tzimsce, that you truly want to help people. Was he mistaken in that?"

He turns to answer Aislinn's and Juan's questions next,"All I know is that they're in Hammersmith somewhere, holed up in a sewer if I know their type. Isabella's been working on extracting information from the Scourge's corpse, so she should have some more details by now. Here's her email, and my number, get in touch with her if you need more info, and let me know if you need any assistance.

As for rules of engagement, anything goes. As always, keep the masquerade. If any of them fancy throwing their lot in with the Camarilla, they're very welcome. If not, try to bring in at least one alive for questioning. It's best to get rid of an infestation like this before it gets out of hand, and I want to know whether more are coming."

He turns next to Mercer, his smile already wearing thin. "If that's what you need, make sure you're able to get it. It wouldn't do to fail because of a lack of forethought."

[Arilus]

Ah, now it was starting to get interesting. Acquire defectors and/or eliminate them, but keep at least one alive for interrogation. However, it may not be trivial a task as she initially thought. She had assumed the Scourge's Final Death was unrelated to the Anarchs he was sent to deal with, as how could a few Anarchs possibly deal with an accomplished Warlock? But it seems they are suspects... Fortunately, they had the wisdom to trust a fellow Tremere to investigate his ashes. And she needed to make sure that the local Clan leaders felt comfortable enough with her to avoid suspicion that her loyalties within the Pyramid were not strictly following the British hierarchy. Demonstrating her worth to the Primogen would be the most efficient place to start.

"Thank you, Sheriff," she responded, privately admiring the way he effortlessly seemed to play on Erich's alleged scruples. She mentally took notes on his technique, wanting to waste no potentially valuable data. It was still difficult to swallow a Tzimisce with such bovine ethics, no matter how timid he appeared.

"Would any of us recent immigrants need an introduction to Lucky Jack for him to deal with us? I hear he's the local arms dealer, and I'd prefer to have 'insurance' a little heavier than a pocket knife."

[Lionheart]

Smith purses his lips at the mention of Lucky Jack. "Yes, I suppose such a man would be useful to many of you.
Unfortunately, he's not easy to get hold of, and he and I have had our disagreements in the past.
Perhaps your rat, Mercer was it?, could track him down for you? I'm sure Greg has had dealings with him in the past as well, so he could set up a meeting.

You could always try the Setites of course, though they're likely to expect more than money in exchange for any assistance." While he talks, he waves Greg over to him. The Nosferatu lurches across the wooden floor, his broken face cast in a near approximation to a lopsided grin.

"You wanna meet Lucky? Sure, I can set up a meeting. I guess earlier would be better?"

[Arilus]

Aislinn far preferred a simple arms dealer to the Followers of Set. From everything she had heard, deals with the Setites seemed like Faustian bargains, and she was not confident enough in her knowledge to attempt to get the upper hand on any arrangement with them. Though she would never admit to these thoughts aloud.

"As soon as fits your convenience, Mr Laurent," she confirmed, displaying only friendliness to the Nosferatu. She was still too young to know what most beautiful Kindred though of the Sewer Rats' appearance, but she viewed her own attractiveness as merely a tool.

[Strawberries]

Erich's lips thin imperceptibly at the sheriff's reply. He isn't as naïve as to fall for the obvious cajoling. If that is really the case and they've got human hostages, then it becomes even less of a desirable situation to be. Because of the damned Masquerade, of course. Still, what else is he supposed to do? He can't just turn his back and walk away, realistically. "Very well" he simply acknowledges in the end. The half glare he addresses Greg, however, tells a bit of a different story. I could be in my operation theatre helping people, if you hadn't forced me to come here. Greg should know him well enough do decipher exactly what he's thinking right now.

[Kynwric]

"Gettin' to know us is a right idea, especially him, Cyrus'z a right enigma." Sadie interjected, watching the pair of Brujah. She didn't like how she was being dismissed so easily, but wasn't surprised by it. "What do you make of this Scourge's disappearance? Do you think it is just a coincidence or it is something far more sinister at work?"

[Lionheart]

Joy smiles at Sadie's interjection. "I'll make a note of that little girl, though I ain't too good at puzzles.

And the Scourge? I don't know much about it. Them Warlocks give me the heeby-jeebies. Not too well liked though are they? Might be someone's trying to hide their presence in the city, might be someone fancied the taste of a wizard's blood. Ain't my business really.
You coming to sort out these Anarchs then? I haven't had a good punch-up in ages!"

Back at the other group, Greg whips out a flip phone that would have been state of the art around 8 years ago and begins tapping out a message, his eyes locked with Aislinn's the whole time, his grin unmoving. After a few moments his phone beeps and he nods. "That's all set up for ya, he'll met you by Blackwall Basin at the docks tomorrow night. He'll be the arrogant sonofabitch in a leather jacket. I told him to expect a stuck up scientist, so he'll know ya.

I'd watch out for him though, he may not quite be this city's Macchiavelli, but he tries. Bit of a trickster is old Jack."

Smith watches the exchange impassively. "Anything else while I'm here? I do have some rather pressing business to attend to..."

[DoctorFaust]

"Damn right I'm an enigma," Cyrus says, cracking a smile. "Takes a lot of effort to appear as mysterious as I do." He flops back down on the couch, stretching his legs out.

"With the timing, I'm willing to bet that the Prince wants us to be his cats paws, give him reason to claim he wasn't involved in case we screw up."

[Strawberries]

Erich can't really understand the point in having a gun - harming a vampire with bullets is not particularly easy, after all. As he sees it, it's just something you have to justify if the police ever gets hold of you - something he definitely wouldn't look forward to. He is about to point that out, but then he decides that it's probably best if he minds his own business on the matter. "Greg, can I have a word?" he asks instead to the Nosferatu.

[Danteric]

After gulping down the last bag of blood, Hayden notices the Gangrel Primogen had begun walking towards him, and began speaking to him. "Hey" he said, now looking at the sheriff, "Yeah.." he said, tapping his foot. "They never told me much when they...Made me what I am now, It'd be great if you could show me the ropes, so to speak." Hayden's face dropped a little when Thomas asked why he was in London, "Ah, that. When my sire embraced me, he sent me to this city with nothing but the clothes on my back, and my ghoul, told me to make it on my own, so here I am." he says, now slumping back into the chair. "Guess i'll find out if its the survival of the fittest in this new world." he said morbidly, still adjusting to his new state of unlife.

"I suppose the first thing I should try and get is a domain, so atleast I could hunt, maybe you could point me in the right direction?" he asked. Hayden hoped to get a foothold into the city, and knew the only way to start was at the bottom.

[Griffith!]

Mercer

Mercer tips his head at the sheriff and bows dramatically to Greg Lauent, his real feelings about either hidden behind a carefully blank mask and, over that, a carefully blank plastic mask. The sheriff never liked him much, and that was fair enough because he'd never tried much like him either. Seemed like an uphill battle anyway.

Once, he'd even considered becoming one of the local bully boys, but other avenues looked more fun and were less brightly lit anyway. And besides, shoe-licking wasn't part of his highly developed and very particular skillset, which happened to include lurking, being rude and running along narrow ledges in the dark. So, best not.

"The bonesaw seems uncomfortable.", he muttered conspiratorially as he sidled closer to Aislinn, "What do you think, Irish? Want a sour skinshaper at your six?"

[Lionheart]

Greg frowns at Erich, but nods and takes him aside. "What's the problem doc?"


Thomas snorts at Hayden's questions. "Looks like you've got your priorities straight anyway.
Tell you what, if you prove your chops, I'll see what I can do. I'm not promising anything, but you seem like an interesting fellow, so I'll try and help you out.

Go along on this little quest of the sheriff's, get a feel for the other neonates, get some blood in your throat, then we'll talk again. How's that?"

[Arilus]

"To be fair, do you want a Warlock at yours?" Aislinn sardonically replies to Mercer after thanking Greg for setting up the meet with Lucky Jack. Granted, the Tzimisce were the ones the Tremere had to be the most wary of, but she no longer trusted anyone. How could she, when she knows how untrustworthy she herself is? But his observation of Erich's discomfort was quite accurate, and she was curious as to why.

"Any idea what is bothering him?" she continued. She wasn't sure whether he was trying to play her or not, but if she could make use of the legendary Nosferatu perspicacity, what did it matter?

After had finished speaking, she took out her mobile and began typing out an email to the Tremere Primogen. She was unsure if it was appropriate to introduce herself to such an important elder in the medium, but she had a feeling that the quicker the business with the Anarchs and possibly even the dead Scourge could be wrapped up, the better she would come out looking. She identified herself as an apprentice that just arrived in London, the fact that the Prince had asked for several neonates to deal with the matter, and politely inquired if the Primogen had discovered anything actionable in her examination of the Scourge's remains. All of it was rather vaguely written: Kindred would be able to interpret the message, but there was nothing obvious enough to make kine suspicious of its contents. Cleartext emails are the not most secure form of communication, after all, and she did not want to develop a reputation for carelessness.

[Griffith!]

Mercer

Mercer watched her tap away on her phone for a few moments before answering. Mobiles weren't in vogue when he'd been turned - they were still a few years away from blowing up, and the only one he'd had back then was a hideous flip-phone that looked like a child's toy these days.

"Oh, don't bother none, Irish - you won't be at my back." he offered, his head cocked to the side, "I'll be at all of yours."

"Now, the way I see it there's really only two options - either the doc objects to Anarch hunting in general, or hunting these Anarchs in particular. I don't trust him, but I don't really trust you either. So unless I'm putting money on all of you being subversives," he made a mental note to see if the SchreckNet could intercept her outgoing messages, "that theory is not bloody likely. So, if I had to hazard a guess based on context, my ten quid is on the Hippocratic oath. 'First do no harm.'"

"Think he's as tame as he wants to seem?"

[Strawberries]

"You know the problem, Greg." The Nosferatu's appearance had bothered him at first, mostly because the plastic surgeon in him had instinctually looked for ways to fix it, but he has gotten used to it quickly enough. He rakes his fingers through his hair and sighs "Look, what do you expect me to do? You've asked me to be here, it's obvious that you want me to do this" forced is a more apt word, actually, but Erich doesn't say that. He actually trusts Greg, and he knows there is probably a reason why he wanted him here. "What happens if there's humans caught in the middle?Worse, what happens if there isn't any human caught in the middle, and those Anarchs are just doing what I was trying to do myself?"

[Arilus]

"I was afraid you'd say that," Aislinn commented with a sigh. She knew that "first do no harm" is often misattributed to the Hippocratic Oath, but felt no compulsion to point the piece of trivia out as the the phrase is still very much in the spirit of the pledge. What she was actually expressing disappointment in was the fact that she was leaning towards the same conclusion as Mercer. She was looking for evidence to contradict the inference that Erich is what seems to be. No matter the reasoning behind the probability, it simply couldn't be...could it?

"His behavior only makes sense if he is indeed as docile as he appears," she said, seeing no reason to attempt to deceive Mercer on her thoughts. "But such an abduction is a hard pill to swallow."

[Griffith!]

Mercer

"Well, his behavior also makes a front, savvy? It's like reverse psychology - we know he's a bastard, so pretending to be nice won't do no good. But he also knows we know he's got to be a bastard, so he goes ahead and pretends to be nice anyway. Double fake-out, right?", he paused, his face splitting into a wide, bloody grin behind his mask, "Or maybe not. Who knows - we could ask him. He's still within earshot."

He's with a nos, Mercer mentally amended, he's always within earshot.

[Lionheart]

It's difficult to tell whether Greg's face is mocking or sympathetic, Nosferatu can be difficult like that. "I know mate, but this is good!
Look, you've got a chance to get on the side of the Sheriff, which can only be a good thing for one of your persuasion. It'd be better for you to put the boot in to these Anarchs a bit, get a feel for what it means to be Kindred." he sighs.
"Not that I'm really expecting that. Just get out there, keep your head down and try to keep casualties to a minimum. I'll put a good spin on it to Smith.
If you have to, curl up in the corner with your eyes closed until it's all over. Pacifism the Primogen will understand, but refusal implies sedition, and you're already too close to that accusation as it is."

[Arilus]

"You misunderstand me. I meant that if he was pretending, that he would behave differently. He would attempt to divert suspicion, whereas his conduct raises it," Aislinn clarifies. "Though I doubt asking him will do any good," she finishes, her tone of voice changing from candid back to her normal honeyed lilt. Though her honest assessment of the Tzimisce could not conceivably be used against her, she always started to feel exposed when she was straightforward for too long. She normally wouldn't have been sincere in the first place, but her fondness of most Nosferatu made her a bit forthcoming.

[Kynwric]

"Cat's paws, fall guys, or patsies. It matters not truthfully, if we want his Hospitality then we are honor-bound to hunt down these perpetrators and bring them to judgement. I just fear that we are being sacrificed on the altar of political-expediency because, like all governments, this one is covering something up." Saide gestured for Joy to join them on the sofa, since Cyrus had not as of yet. "Knowing one another's peers is a worthy reason to branch out, networking, escpecially across clan-lines makes it harder for truths to be concealed."

[Strawberries]

"I was afraid you'd say that." Of course, Erich is under no illusion that his presence in the city is tolerated at best, and that most of the vampires in power probably don't trust him. Greg is absolutely right. Doesn't mean he has to like it, though. "I'll do my best. Er...would you have any idea where to start from?" While a pretty good doctor, Erich has never had pretensions of being a detective.

He suddenly remember something else he needs to tell Greg "Oh, and, uhm...congratulations, I guess. For Jackie" Now where has she gone? Erich doesn't seem able to see her anywhere. All Nosferatu are like that, it seems. "I'm not sure they have cards at Sainsbury's for something like that, or I'd pick one for you." He's comfortable enough around Greg to be able to make the jok. He struggles to understand why somebody would want a Nosferatu embrace, but Jackie herself had seemed happy enough with her situation.

[McStabbington]

"There's every possibility you won't have to do anything objectionable, Erich." The handsome American had sidled up to the German doctor, his fiance tagging along behind. "I know next to nothing about vampires, but even I've heard about the Tzimisce turning other vampires into modern art projects."

He paused, and started again. His wording was stream of conscience, but his tone sincere. "Look, I don't know the first thing about violence either. I got in a few scraps as a kid, but that was just a bunch of six-year olds swinging wildly at each other. But I do know my cultural anthropology. I studied gangland culture in Los Angeles, and I know that most of them, even the hardened ones, didn't have all that much more experience than I did. It's the reputation that gets them out of most tough situations, the appearance that they could commit lethal violence if they needed to that matters most. And you're already most of the way there just from your, uh, bloodline. Now I tell you what, I'll do what I can to make sure that if we call on you, it's for the fear you can inspire and for helping people if they've got humans that they've messed up. Even if you can't fight yourself, it doesn't mean you can't help out in a fight." He offered the Nosferatu a somewhat nervous grin and then turned his attention back to the wavering Tzimisce.

[Lionheart]

Joy takes the offered seat beside Sadie, and furrows her brow at her words. "I guess that's one way to see it. We gotta protect the Masquerade though don't we? Can't have scum like them just loose on the streets."


Greg nods wearily at Erich's congratulations, "Thanks, she's a great girl. Or will be if she knows what's best for her. You can meet her if you like? That way I can keep all my mistakes together..."" he nods politely at Juan's interruption.

[Strawberries]

Erich sighs "When I chose medicine I never thought I'd be the Butzemann, except maybe for very young children" He thinks about the translation for a second "Bogeyman, I think you say. But I don't seem to have a choice, exactly, do I? I'll help, if only because there really might be injured people that need assistance" And you can't really bring them to the hospital or the police, can you, not if you want to protect the Masquerade. Why the Masquerade is so damn important is something Erich struggles to understand, but he's in the Camarilla now, and that's one of the things Greg has been adamant on. Not that he'd go around advertising himself as a vampire plastic surgeon regardlessly: he's sure there's some people in Germany that would be all too interested to hear about him - people he doesn't want to cross path with ever again.

He makes a tight-lipped smile in Greg's direction "You told me I'm a mistake of yours already, but I'm sure Jackie would have something to say at being called that" From the two and something seconds Erich has seen her, she didn't seem the kind of girl to take things lying down. "Is she close now? I can never tell with you people."

[Lionheart]

Greg smiles at Erich, "You need to work on your eyes boy, I thought your lot were good at that?

Anyway, she's behind you." he grimaces at his own joke, "Sorry, Nosferatu humour. Just call her if you want to talk. She's a little shy still. You know." he gestures towards his own hideous features.

[Strawberries]

"Only if she wants to meet me. " Erich turns around with, what, he hopes, is a welcoming smile. He can certainly see how being turned into a nosferatu could give anybody body image issues. As a trauma surgeon that has seen his good share of hideous disfigurement, Erich hopes to have the right bedside manners to put her at ease "Jackie, Greg here called us mistakes of his. Do you want to help me to set him straight? "

[Lionheart]

Jackie, upon hearing her name, appears a few feet away, leaning nonchalantly against the wall. It's discernible from her features that in life she was a middle aged woman, past her prime. Now she is truly a monster, her skin peeling away from her face, hair gone save for a few strands that flap around as she walks towards you.
"Mistakes?" she laughs mirthlessly. "Yeah, I guess you could say that. Whatever. Pleased to meet you. You're an odd one ain't ya?"

[Strawberries]

Erich is surprised at her appearance: she had looked younger when she had introduced herself, but now that he can clearly see her up close he realises she isn't. There surely is a story behind this, but it isn't really his place to ask, at least now. If Greg wants to, he'll tell him about it later.

He smiles at her and holds out his hand to shake - smiling and physical touch is usually something that helps putting his patients at ease "I guess you could say that" he echoes, a hint of laughter in his voice. Mistakes are better banding together, after all. "Are you going to get involved in the Sheriff's 'task' as well?"

[Lionheart]

Jackie sniffs and wipes her face with the back of her hand. A very human gesture, "Don't see why not. Should be a laugh at any rate.

You got a plan then?"

[Danteric]

Hayden nodded at Thomas, finding it irritating to be an errand boy, but knew he had to start somewhere. After saying his farewells to Thomas, he began to walk towards the other neonates, the so called doctor in particular. Once reaching the book case, he would wait until the doctor had finish speaking, and reaches out his hand as a gesture towards him, "Hello...Erich was it? I'm Hayden, rather new to the city like the most of us I guess," he says, as he approached Erich. "Could you tell me more about your clan, what is a Tzimisce?" he queried, curious about the man, he didnt know much about the other clans, given his hasty embrace, but wanted to learn more about them. "And considering what we might run into in the nights, it would be good to have safety in numbers, right?" he asked, looking to make allies with the Doctor.

[Strawberries]

Erich is slightly taken aback. That is bound to be an absolute first, someone not knowing who the Tzimisce are and what they stand for. He almost wishes he could downplay it, but Hayden would find out very soon from someone else. Plus, Greg is there. Greg will surely mock him for it if he doesn't tell things a they are "The Tzimisce haven't got a good reputation, mister Hayden" he answers honestly enough "And, as they are not a Camarilla clan, probably meeting another, apart from me, will be very difficult, at least in friendly circumstances. Other kindreds call th...us fleshshapers, as this is the ability that characterizes us" There are far less pleasant nicknames, as fiends, demons or monsters, but Erich doesn't feel the need to point that out "I was a plastic surgeon...still am, and that is the reason why I was embraced. Tzimisce, in general, aren't people you would want to interact with, althought I'm sure there are other exceptions. The ones I met valued... research above all, without any consideration for ethics or life" And it had probably not been a good idea to think about that again. He's probably going to have nightmares again when he goes to sleep for the day - and a couple of neurologists he used to know would probably have a field day about a supposedly dead creature experiencing nightmares.

He relaxes slightly at his other statement, nodding. "Of course, safety in numbers" He makes a small gesture to encompass Jackie and Juan "Although that is rather pointless if we don't know where to start."

[Arilus]

"So am I to understand you advocate ignorance, Herr Doktor?" Aislinn teased as she walked over and reinserted herself into the conversation, putting her mobile away. It was a facetious question, but he was starting to open up as to his alleged reasons for defection. And she was intensely curious about Tzimisce practices, both because of general inquisitiveness and the fact that Sun Tzu knew what he was talking about when he wrote "know thy enemy."

"And besides, you were given a place to begin: the district these Anarchs are suspected to infest," she chided. The messages sent and received on her phone had given her avenues of her own to pursue, but if she could get others to do the less stimulating and more dangerous legwork then reap the benefits of their labor, all the better.

[Lionheart]

Jackie nods at Aislinn's words, Aslan's right, I say we just go down Hammersmith and knock some heads. One of you's got to be able to spot Kindred right?"

[Kynwric]

Sadie kept her voice light, almost playful. "Protect and defend, of course... scum on the streets, bastards in the boardroom. 'Tis the way of the world. The little guys get crushed in between." After a pause she changed directions slightly, "A plan, we need a plan and some contacts and sleuthing to get to the bottom of this. Perhaps the rest of the grown-ups over there looking all too pleased with themselves have an idea."

[Lionheart]

Joy stands, nods and begins cracking her knuckles. "Yeah, they got Nozzies over there, they're bound to know where to start nosing around. You coming Cyrus?"
Without waiting for an answer, she strides over to join the other group.

"Wotcha nerds, who else is hunting Anarchs?"

[DoctorFaust]

Cyrus starts, jerking his head around to look at Joy. "Huh? Oh, uh, sure. Sorry, Ah, er, I got lost in my thought for a second."

Walking besides Joy, he goes over to the other group, and, piggybacking on Joy, says, "Because we sure as hell are."

[Kynwric]

Sadie rolled her eyes as the two Brujah rose and quickly announced their plans to the rest of the Neonates in Elysium. She did rise though, and follow the pair, letting Cyrus' bulk block sight of her as they approached. She made sure she was wearing her innocent little girl face, it got her further than most other appearances in social situations, for all these men and women were vampires, they had been socialized as humans... and that made a difference.

[Arilus]

"I am pursuing them as well," Aislinn answers Joy. She had been told that the Brujah used to be Platonic warrior-poets, but had now mostly been reduced to idealistic rabble-rousers. Their aptitude for violence meant that keeping a few around could certainly have its advantages, however. She left out her motives, of course. Currying favor with the city's elders was the primary reason, but retaliating against any who (allegedly) dared cross the Tremere was a definite perquisite.

[Griffith!]

Mercer

"Pursuing is a bit... strong." Mercer added to Aislinn, his voice bubbling with phlegm and blood, "Finding, sure. Killing? Okay. But if there's going to be a chase, I'd just as soon be left out of it."

He looked over the two Brujah, giving Cyrus a second scornful once-over. The first one - the woman - he'd rather ignore. nothing personal, but she was looking depressingly typical for her blood, and therefore not an ounce of fun. Cyrus would only be useful in a purely objective fashion - he could knock heads, and that was helpful, but in the end his puzzle wasn't one that demanded involvement. It was personal, and therefore impersonal to Mercer, and therefore no fun either. Why can't people have the common decency to be interesting, he sneered to himself, the gruesome twist of his lips hidden behind his mask.

"Not sure we met." he addressed the newcomers directly now, "I'm your court-appointed babysitter, moved up to the big-leagues special so as to keep an eye on you. Don't go asking if it's true, cause anyone who knew would just lie if it were and tell the truth if it weren't and your brains'd buckle trying to figure out which is which. I'd tell ya' what to call me, but it's better if I call you. So introductions aside, Cyrus, Joy, Sadie, let's talk brass tacks. I'm not interested, so direct all your attention to the Irish gel with the superiority complex. I'm nominating her for nominal figurehead. She sure wants us to think she knows which way is Surrey."

[Arilus]

"You certainly know how to make a girl blush. I've always dreamed of being a nominal figurehead."

If her sarcastic tone wasn't enough, the fact that her undead physiology obviously made blushing impossible would further drive it home. Despite her trenchant response, she was not actually offended. She had enough self-knowledge to know that his assessment of her was fairly accurate. And the same hubris he had pointed out meant that she only cared about others' opinions of her to the extent that it served her advantage. Though if the other neonates did decide to defer to her as Mercer had derisively suggested, she would have no complaints. She possessed no illusions that it would confer any true power, but such an arrangement could prove expedient.

[Lionheart]

Joy nods enthusiastically, "Right boss, where do we start?"

[Strawberries]

"I 'm not. I wish I could
claim ignorance" Erich replies quietly, soberly, then shuts up about the matter. The conversation is too personal for his taste already.

He nods at both Aislin and Mercer, although he has no intention to defer to any of them. Those people seem to have adapted to the concept of 'undead predator' a bit TOO well for Erich's taste.

"Now I suppose we go and start asking questions" he sighs "From what I know, the Nosferatu are masters of scouting unseen and well, some people might feel at ease talking to a doctor"

[Arilus]

Aislinn was disappointed. Twice the conversation had veered towards Erich's experience with the Tzimisce proper, and both times he had refused to give details. There was either information that could be used against him or the memories were too disturbing to contemplate. Or he simply wanted to remain mysterious, like herself.

"Who doesn't like memories of injections and venipuncture?" she gibed. Though he was right, many kine typically had an intrinsic trust of doctors. She had herself, not too long ago. "You would actually blend right in...tell me, how do continuously emulate life? I can utilize vitae to do the same, but you seem to be doing so effortlessly. Is this a trick of Vicissitude?" she asked, hoping that using the proper nomenclature of the Tzimisce fleshshaping art would make a medical professional a little more talkative. She had always loved jargon, and she was grateful of the education her sire had given her before her Becoming.

[DoctorFaust]

"Sorry to interrupt the jargon fest," Cyrus says, a slight smile creasing his face, "But if you're the leader of this merry gang of misfits, have you already taken steps to get us guns? Can't go Anarch hunting without firepower."

[Arilus]

"You're in luck," Aislinn answered, unsuccessfully trying to place the man's accent. "I have a meet with our local arms dealer tomorrow night. I can't imagine he would mind some extra business. A word of warning: I'm no expert on British law, but I do know firearms are heavily restricted. The guards may take issue if they catch you with one."

[Strawberries]

"That is one of the things I don't know" Erich says to Aislinn's question. "It doesn't come from Vicissitude. I was lead to believe that it was because I was newly "made"" That's what Luther, who most definitely didn't breathe, had told him, and had assured him it would soon disappear "But after two years, I have to assume that I was lied to. I don't have an explanation, for now."

He shakes his head at the second remark "I will pass on the weapons. I have no desire to be deported back to Germany. "

[DoctorFaust]

"I'm pretty sure the country I'm from doesn't exist anymore, except in the mind of nut-cases, which pretty well removes the possibility of extradition for me, " Cyrus raises a hand and scratches at the stubble on his face. " 'Sides, if anyone sees us shooting or carrying, we can always kill 'em and eat the bodies."

[Griffith!]

Mercer

"Right." Mercer drawled in a slow, cartoonish southern american accent, "Nothing screams ready to serve like recommending cannibalism and masquerade violations inside Elysium." He dropped the bad accent and rolled his eye, "I can see those dues you paid have made you a sterling example we should all aspire to. Smashing solid thinking."

He paused a moment to reflect on the phrase 'smashing solid thinking' and the various ways it could be read. "Not that I'll stop you, mind. I'll get a giggle watching you vomit fingernails on the tube. As for the guns - if you do this thing right you wouldn't need 'em. Anarchs are a splinter faction of the Camarilla - we're not talking Ravnos or Assamites or some bollocks. We don't need to kill 'em. We just need 'em to play by the rules."

He snorted derisively, "Besides, you'll need more than a pocket heater to drop a vampire anyway - and any gun good at that is out of your price range."

[Arilus]

"Unless you're secretly Nagaraja, I wouldn't recommend consuming flesh," Aislinn concurred, only knowing about the scant Flesh-Eaters because they, like the Tremere, were mortal mages that had synthesized their vampirism. "And either way, killing guards is a good way to attract unwanted attention. Though, while it is true that Kindred tissue is fairly impervious to bullets, I would not discount the advantages of a firearm." She left out that fighting from a distance is the primary reason for wanting a projectile weapon. A life of academia is not a good way to prepare for hand-to-hand combat, after all. Only the time spent in laboratories and her past promiscuity had refined her motor skills. Fortunately, the same set of skills translated well to the weapons training her sire had ensured she learnt.

"Whilst it is true that the Anarchs are part of the Ivory Tower, they like to pretend otherwise. Assimilation is obviously preferable, but idealists tend to be difficult to negotiate with."

[DoctorFaust]

"No, yeah, right. Misspoke there. Don't eat people, eating people is bad. And obviously, we don't want to go around killing Kindred, or Kine if we can help it. I just meant that as, ah damn, " He reaches up to scratch at his face again. "It's good to have a last resort strategy, in case things end up going ar*e over t*ts."

[Arilus]

Relieved that Cyrus probably wasn't going to be a problem, Aislinn continued her prior train of thought. "Fascinating," she said, looking directly at Erich with a slightly hungry look in her eyes. She believed him when he said his mimesis was not established via Visscitude, and was intensely curious as to how he managed the feat. If she could get a sample of vitae, thaumaturgical analysis might explain the ability. More invasive techniques might yield more data, but such an opportunity would be much more difficult.

"For those who want armaments, I'll be at Blackwall Basin tomorrow night. In the mean time, there's no reason we can't indulge in some preliminary legwork. Talking to the Hammersmith Nosferatu would be ideal, and we even have two to liaise for us," she suggested, nonverbally indicating Mercer and Jackie. Mercer would doubtlessly give derisive protest, but she had a hunch he'd do it anyways. If not, Jackie seemed more pliable. "Failing that, interviewing residents or combing media for suspicious events seem like good ways to pick up a line on the Anarchs." She had weighed the likelihood that Lucky Jack would be displeased by extra customers, but she doubted it would be an issue.

[Strawberries]

Erich had physically flinched at Cyrus' proposal, but he seems to relax a bit when he amends it. He clears his throat and rummages a bit in his pocket, pulling out, incongruously enough, a London underground map. "It's only two stops away" he says after a second of studying the little leaflet "Quite doable within tonight, if we want to have a look before the Tube closes."

He risks a glance towards the little girl, Sadie, was it? wondering if she's going to have problems moving around late night, given how young she looks. Then again, it's possible nobody would care or notice. This is London after all, not some small town in rural Germany. "We are diverse enough to risk attracting attention if we move as a group" he ventures "Perhaps it's best to split in small groups and reconvene to a meeting point?"

[Arilus]

"Good idea, Erich," Aislinn concurred, finally addressing him by name instead of profession. Now that they're getting down to brass tacks, her prior teasing and inquiring habits would be counterproductive. Though she had acquired a driving licence shortly after her immigration, she had neither much experience behind the wheel nor a vehicle of her own. "Though I would take it a step further and have each travel alone." Solitude may have its dangers, but data mining operations mean that any patterns in the presence of security cameras is potentially perilous as well.

"For those with mobiles, I recommend an exchange of numbers. Remote communication can have its advantages," she advised, doing just that with whoever spoke up.

After the transactions were complete, she eyed the girl who appeared preadolescent. She scanned her memory and remembered her name and that she had not identified her Clan. "Sadie, do you require accompaniment or can you deal with any unwanted attention due to your apparent age?"

[Lionheart]

Jackie is the first to step forward and offer her number. "Cheers m'dear. Don't suppose you have any objection to us travelling in pairs at least?" She puts an arm round Erich conspirationally, "Us mistakes have gotta stick together don'tcha know?"

[Strawberries]

Erich considers for a second, then gets his mobile out and notes down the numbers, offering his own in return. It's just a pay-as-you-go SIM anyway, it's not like it has a contract with personal data on him.

He smiles at Jackie hugging him - it looks like she's overcome her shyness, which is a good thing, and plus it's been a while since he's been hugged by anybody. "Well, I have no problem with it." he responds, squeezing her back for a brief moment before letting her go and offering her his arm in mock chivalry.

[Griffith!]

Mercer

Mercer notes the numbers, but doesn't offer his own or take any down - he just takes a moment to commit them to memory and append each with the notes he'd been taking all night long. By tomorrow they'd all already be logged in the SchreckNet and he wouldn't have to bother. But for now, it seemed sensible at least.

"I don't mind pairs." he offered, voice thick, "So long as any berk paired with me knows we'll be the creepy couple."

He paused, his eyes twinkling darkly behind the white plastic mask, "How about it Irish? Anyone gets suspicious, you can just give me a big ol' kiss. I'll put ten quid down we could make a whole metro sick, just a little."

[Kynwric]

Sadie has merely been taking it all in, listening to the banter and waiting for someone to do anything. When the call for numbers was she took each one down and texted her own number back to them, so that it was instantly added to their phone's memory. "You should all have a text from me, with my number." She sidled away a little from Mercer as he put on his creepy act with Aislinn, that kind of behavior made her more than a little leary of the man. "Pairs are better, where should we meet and when?" She ran her eyes over the group, finally settling on Joy and Cyrus, trying to decide which one she was more comfortable with to make this short little trip. Joy's connections to the powers that be made her less trustworthy on the surface, but Cyrus was male and that made him, well, a man. The rest of the crowd she didn't really know and wasn't going to be caught out with someone she didn't know.

[DoctorFaust]

Cyrus is one of the last to step forward to offer his cell number. "From what I saw under your mask, Mercer, it wouldn't just be the metro. Everyone from Bristol to Southminster would heave."

[Arilus]

"I reckon we could," Aislinn agrees with a mischievous smile, stubbornly refusing to betray any hint that she found the idea of kissing a Nosferatu a bit disgusting. Her self-schema was that of an inhuman psychopath, but she apparently still retained some leftover human qualms. Regardless, travelling in pairs did seem to strike the right balance of secrecy and safety.

[Strawberries]

Erich still has his mobile out from noting down all the numbers, and takes advantage of it to do a quick search on the map "Here"he says after a second "There's this church, St Paul, right at the tube stop. It has a bit of a park behind it, nobody will be around at this hour of the night". He seems to realise something when Mercer and Cyrus start joking about Nosferatu appearance "Ehm, not to be inappropriate, but can you, uhm, Mercer, use that Nosferatu discipline to appear as someone else? Can you, Jackie?" Greg can, and Erich finds it absolutely fascinating, but he's not sure that it's something every Nosferatu can do, or if it takes practice to learn it.


The park I'm on about is

https://www.google.co.uk/maps/@51.492043,-0.2253069,3a,90y,161.95h,87.47t/data=!3m4!1e1!3m2!1sY2nbVSuKzsB-yDl5bbFZIA!2e0

here, to be precise :smalltongue: And that's (https://www.google.co.uk/maps/place/Hammersmith,+London+W6/@51.4911429,-0.2255602,3a,75y,28.46h,94.93t/data=!3m4!1e1!3m2!1sGp-GmDe3tMHnKd_YU_FkzQ!2e0!4m2!3m1!1s0x48760fb49cf588 1d:0xbaa0b2f34e5c12a8) what the church looks like from the other side

[Griffith!]

Mercer

"What, I'm not pretty enough for you? You'd prefer, what? Doctor Who?" Mercer asked, voice full of feigned hurt, "Not on your life, mate. Takes a lot more practice to make people see what you ain't, than to see what you ain't there. I can vanish, though, and this mask ain't just a pretty affectation. It's amazing the lengths people will go to to not see the nutter in Halloween gear."

He pauses, sizing up the rest of the group, "Maybe you lot should invest. Clearly, I'm the pretty one." he gives this a moments though and indicates Sadie, "Not you, duckie. Kids in masks creep me out."

Suddenly, his expression changes, his back stiffening and the playful light winking out in his eyes. That's not fair, he reminds himself, the voice in his thoughts unusually cool, she's not a puzzle. You don't need to play games. He hesitated, and then added reproachfully, "Sorry, all. Just lost the plot for a moment there. I'm taking the piss - don't mean nothing by it."

[Lionheart]

Jackie merely shrugs, "No need, it's nothing that a bit of stealth and abig hoodie won't cover up.

Besides, this is London. There's always freaks on the tube."

[Arilus]

"St Paul's is acceptable," Aislinn approved after checking the church's address on her mobile. "Is it possible for ye to alter your appearance? I was under the impression that Nosferatu can only conceal, not create a semblance," she asked, the question aimed at no one in particular. Though Mercer or Jackie would likely be able to give the most complete answer, someone may give a more honest response if they knew.

[Griffith!]

Mercer

"Have you seen Greg?" Mercer points out, his tone and eyes dead serious, "He's a Nossier Nos than me, and right now he's as pretty as a picture. Or as pretty as he can be, copying rubbish actors like that."

Mercer gestures broadly, "Most Nos past a certain age can make you think they look a way they don't, but it ain't so stylish as the Doc's neat trick. We're still ugly, right to the bone. They just put on a mask - one in your head, stead of on theirs. It's a neat illusion, but it doen't do bollocks for the smell."

He paused for a moment and wondered if he were saying too much. He didn't really know these people, but they had been vetted by at least one person in the Ivory Tower. So they were Cammy or Cammy enough to fool the Sheriff's bully-boys. So that would have to do. "But it ain't so special a trick. Any Kindred with the talent can learn to vanish or fool the naked eye. Probably not your blood, Irish, but somebody like the wee bairn," he indicated Sadie again, "sure. Why not?"

"And that's the last you'll get from me for free."

[Arilus]

Aislinn felt rather foolish for not putting two and two together, but but she knew that there was still much she didn't know of Kindred abilities. Her voracious curiosity and perfect memory meant that she knew quite a bit for one so young, but there was still much more information out there she had to learn. Though she knew the Tremere adage "there's a Path for that," she wasn't particularly interested in hiding herself, anyways. Why would she, when her looks were one of her more prominent assets?

"Fair enough. Thanks for the lesson anyways, grá mo chroí," she replied in a seductive lilt. She had no doubt that a Nosferatu would be immune to her charms, but such a tone was a force of habit when she wanted to encourage openness in others.

[Danteric]

Hayden thought to himself after Erich and Mercer mentioned the ability to vanish from sight, and was reminded of a strange ability he managed to pick up a few months back. Turning his attention towards Mercer, he reached out his hand once again, trying greet the disfigured man, "Hello, Mercer was it? I'm Hayden, and I couldn't help but overhear what you were talking about just now, about vanishing.." he said, trying to find out more about the strange disciplines he's acquired, "I seem to have a knack of vanishing from sight, something I figured out recently, not quite sure how I do it." he said, "Other Gangrel i've met seem to have a different grasp on the so called Disciplines they have, maybe i'm special?" he said, sarcasm in his voice.

Looking around and taking note that most of the neonates in the room had begun to cluster, he decided to speak up again, "Well, I guess we shouldn't keep those Anarchs waiting, i'll be the muscle it seems, hope the others are good with talking." he said, gesturing towards Aislinn. They had spend awhile in the parlor, and he hoped they would soon be on the move.

[DoctorFaust]

"The church sounds fine to me. What time are we meeting?" He proffers an arm to Joy. "But in the meantime, what say we go and see what a pair of enterprising Bujah can find out about the little den of Anarchs."

[Griffith!]

Mercer

"On second though, Irish..." Mercer offered casually, ignoring Hayden's hand, "You go on ahead. I'll catch you up later."

First, he had to see a man about a dog - or, in this particular case, a copper about a lead. After the Inspector, he'd pop by Chav's for a vindaloo and some information, and then he'd troll Sarah's case reports for cadavers with cause of death that fit the Kindred modus operandi. Then he'd make a couple calls, have Mitnick do his data-input thing, and he'd pop up much later with new information that would make their heads spin. You know, the way we do, he silently summed up.

"I'm off to have a butcher's.", he concluded, waving his fingers through the air, "Maybe literally."

[Arilus]

"Suit yourself," Aislinn replied, figuring Mercer would contact them if he found anything. He hadn't proffered a number, but had little doubt that the Nosferatu had made a mental note of theirs if he didn't already have them.

"Now, searching for these amadáin in small groups may be more efficient, and it certainly is the best way to travel, but we do have to consider that they may have taken down a Sheriff. And a Tremere Sheriff, at that. It's probably advisable to hunt them down in a group."