Avoiding a Midnight Sun IC

[RedSand]

You pass by a sign; “You are now leaving Claremont”. It always seemed redundant; in Alaska, where civilization began and ended was always fairly apparent, though no moreso than ever, you imagine. Before you had shown up, before the experimental tech companies and the oil riggers and the refugees and whatever else had parked on it’s doorstep, Claremont had been a town founded by a silver mining company with a small airport and some skiing opportunities ; it was populous by Alaskan standards, which meant the people numbered in four digits and there was more than one liquor store. When the silver boom started, and industry came knocking, it had graciously built around the existing town; depending on what corner you turned on, you could end up in a cul-de-sac of picturesque red brick houses or a row of modernist steel and glass storefronts. In any case, the sign tells you you’re getting closer.

You check your notes. The directions you were given were clear, meticulously so, but even on the outskirts of the new city, the Alaskan nights are unendingly black and unnervingly dense, and despite your ambivalence to the cold, you don’t much fancy burying yourself in the snow if you get lost. Still, you do what you can to stick to your route; if you do get lost, there were several paths to get to the slaughter house. The instructions were very clear on this as well; you were assured that having multiple paths prevented infighting and assault on your way to court and prevent accidental mobs of kindred.
You arrive at an out-of-the-way meat packaging facility. The smell of blood doesn’t arouse suspicion, it was spacious, and while it was still operational, you were assured that you would never encounter any workers. You enter, and go down a few surreptitious flights of stairs. You’re not late, but you’re not early, and you it seems a good deal of the community has beaten you here-at least, that parts that would be coming.

There were plenty of high generation kindred near the stairs, crowding a few vats of animal blood like a watercooler. They looked about as happy as they normally did, which wasn’t very. Across the room, Wade and Kristine Bradley sat at an open table, chatting and playing some kind of card game on their tablets. Sat up against their backs are a group of Toreador mingling with a group of Caitiff; they don’t seem to be arguing, but there seems to be more tension between the two than either want to admit. Fern, a ghoul, sips coffee and types away on her laptop, ignoring everyone else. A smattering of Gangrel wander around, each on their lonesome, trying to mingle as best they can; some of them don’t seem to be failing at it. In each corner of the room were a few some more ghouls, dressed uniformly in pin-striped suits and looking bored. And then there was the centerpiece that tied the whole room together.

A staked kindred was propped against the wall, on a makeshift stage made from several empty packaging crates. Two setites, a gargoyle, and a vampire you’ve never seen before surround him, lazily eyeing the crowd. From across the room, you’re not certain the staked kine is even alive; you think it’s a man from the heavy winter clothes he’s wearing, which obscure most of him, but from what you can see of his face, he’s long been a corpse. You weren't sure what he’d done yet, but you’d find out, you’re certain, as you turn to face what passes for a court round these parts.

[Arilus]

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, Aislinn begins her habitual survey of any new environment. Though she dresses for utility instead fashion, she a naturally inviting and luscious appearance. She may no longer have more than an ounce of vanity left in her, but her looks are too valuable a tool not to employ. Those who actually take the time to objectively examine her will notice one feature that belies the façade: far from enticing, her ophidian eyes are cold and calculating. Fortunately, for those who are most susceptible to her charms, it's not her eyes they're usually staring at.

With her perpetually heightened senses, a product of healthy caution and a need for data, the scan of Elysium did not yield too much that seemed of interest. And was that smell...animal blood? She wanted to escape the nasty reputation in her home city, but she started to wonder if she may have travelled a bit too far. The majority of Kindred present did nothing to impress, and she had few expectations her assessment would improve. But that Gargoyle was an affront to the Tremere. Unshackling the Slaves had been necessary to mend fences with the Nosferatu and the Gangrel, but there is something unsettling about letting the products of inspired thaumaturgy run free and fail to perform the purpose for which they were created.

The one thing that piqued her curiosity so far here was that staked body. Was it a message or a prisoner? She tried to get a look at the thing's aura, if it even had one. At the very least, she could determine if it was truly dead or simply torpid.

Aura Perception: [roll0]: 0 successes @ difficulty 8

Maybe still enough to tell if it has an aura or not?

[Raine_Sage]

What ghastly business.

Marie avoids looking at the...whatever that thing is staked on the stage. It's unpleasant and unappealing and the reasons why it might be put front and center like this make her hair stand on end. A strange face in a strange land she knows maybe one or two of the vampires here but not well enough to feel comfortable mingling. She stands at the fringes of the Toreadore group, moderately more comfortable with her own clan than with the others. She glances up idly as Aislinn descends the stairway but ultimately her interest is more focused on any potential gossip she might overhear. That's really all these gatherings are good for.

Marie is done up perhaps a little more than required, hair elaborately braided and body wrapped in what might be a mink coat. More likely it's fake fur but the quality is exceptional and she strokes it idly to help sooth herself since she hardly needs protection from the cold these days. She appears unfocused and distracted as her eyes drift around the room aimlessly while she keeps an ear trained for anything juicy.

Alertness + Perception with Enhanced Senses (Hearing)
(Check OOC Thread, messed up the code) base difficulty at ST discretion. Hope this is not jumping the gun.

[Failed Phantasm]

Gregory gave himself a last once-over in the side mirror of his pickup, combing disheveled hair into place with his fingers, checking for any blood on his clothes that he might have missed earlier, and, most importantly, inspecting his tongue for caribou fur. Other Kindred may complain about the flavor and thinness of animal blood, and it was an acquired taste, to be sure; however, he found that the fur left behind from licking their wounds closed was, by far, more unappetizing. The vitae was still warm as it sat inside him, spreading an almost soothing feeling through his abdomen, and years of habit and the slightly-faint-but-still-unforgotten sensation of being alive compelled Gregory to draw it through his body with comfortable ease, flushing his skin with color and making him look passably human again – his breath was even misting slightly in the cold night air and fogging the mirror he was using.

The flapping of ephemeral wings and a vaguely odd sensation on his left shoulder indicated the return of his totem as it perched on him and cocked its head inquisitively. As he brushed a tuft of fur off his jacket, he muttered to the crow-spirit without looking at it, “Was that supposed to be another one of your “instructional pranks”? Letting me prod that Naturae for so long that I nearly starved myself into a frenzy?” He stopped for a moment to shoot the crow a sideways glance before turning his attention back to the mirror. “Well, it wasn't funny. I was careless, I admit. But I could have hurt someone. Or worse. And it's hardly something I need to be taught twice.” Finally satisfied with his appearance, he checked to make sure the directions were in his pocket – he'd have to go on foot from here – and then set off for his destination at a brisk pace.

It was a winding, circuitous path that they followed, perhaps chosen to help one dodge any unwanted pursuers, but Gregory navigated it quickly enough while the pair of them traded a few riddles to pass the time. As they started down the last flight of stairs, Gregory whispered an instruction: “I expect we shall hear a speech or two tonight. These newcomer Kindred can't seem to resist the sounds of their own voices. Watch the speakers closely, and I'll pay attention to the crowd.” and it croaked softly in acknowledgement. He nodded back and opened the door as quietly as he could manage. There was already quite the gathering, with faces both familiar and not mulling around in the spacious room; as he descended the stairs, his eyes were immediately drawn to the staked figure propped up on the improvised stage. 'Oh, God.' He would have breathed a quiet sigh at the sight, but chose not to. 'What poor sod is this that we're making a spectacle of tonight? And is he actually guilty of a crime, or has he merely offended the wrong person? '

As he reached the landing, Gregory looked around and caught the attention of some of the Gangrel milling around uneasily, many of whom he knew at least in passing; he nodded at each of them as they met his gaze, but he did not approach. If they wanted to socialize with him, they would come when they felt ready and on their own terms. He managed to pick out Aislinn from the throng, but she was staring rather intently at the staked body and probably wouldn't have noticed a gesture of greeting anyway, so he left her to her ogling. He then took a moment to watch the mingling Caitiff and Toreador – and inclined his head politely towards Marie when he saw her – but otherwise sidled off to the side, at the edge of the gathering where he had the better vantage point of both the stage and the assembled Cainites.


Gregory spends 0 blood points (8 - Humanity) to appear more human for the duration of the scene.

[OneCalledBlue]

Laure read the slowly fading soggy remnants of her instructions. She had mostly dried off, the odd drip of water running from her smooth stone-like skin as she flew across the rooftops following her directions.
"Only reason I am going is for Marie.." she thought to herself. "I bet this town is no different, another bunch of idiots wait to grovel at some would-be prince or baron or bishop or some other such foolishness. At least I wont need food."
She rubbed her very fully belly. Her meal was delicious and the screams still rang in her ears like music itself. There was beauty to be found in pain and a painful death, just as there was in the sounds of passion. This is how life is was on this wicked twisted planet.

Landing with a large thud from her heavy body, just outside of the entrance to the meeting place Laure stopped and watched as the shadows scattered away from her, ghostly faces of the long since dead - human and animal - looked at her and ran from the area as her presence and ability to perceive them startled them from whatever pointless nonsense they were up to. The whispers started, like a roaring tide, but she rapidly fought them down.
She could see the glowing footprints of the passages of Kindred, the ties and woven webs of the Jyhad trailing behind each one, like a trail left by hansel and grettle. "Like shackles to doom." she thought to herself.

Straitening her heavy green robes and pulling her cloak about her, Laure walked into the meat packing plant. The smell of death was pleasant, but it was the smell of deceased animals, so it made her retch more than anything. "Pathetic, no better than rats feasting from hidden morsels." she scoffed in her mind as she saw the containers of animal blood. The staked dead thing did not matter to her in the slightest, though it's ghost was screaming something at her, she ignored it entirely. Scanning the room she looked over the Elders, seeing if she recognised them or if any might recognise her, the stench of the antediluvians clung to them like rotting dung. Seeing Marie she almost breathed a sigh of relief, at least there was one brain in this room worthwhile. Someone with a sense of taste (and distaste).

Quickly she walked to where Marie stood, pulling her hood back to reveal her glossy green crystalline skin and her large smile. "Marie darling!" she said in english with a slight french accent, loud enough and enthusiastically for a few nobodies nearby to hear, but quiet enough for the rest of the room to pay no attention. Laure opened her arms to offer Marie a very human quick and polite embrace of friendship. "How have you been? It has been a few years since we last caught up. I am glad to see you alive and so healthy!" not waiting for Marie to respond she waves at the obvious display. "The steps of time march backward once more; The displays of the powerful mark the road most traveled." She finishes with her typical Malkavian-style of conveying information, fighting back the whispers of ghosts, shades, the ever-babbling madness network and the input from her heightened senses.

[Danteric]

Making his way through the processing plant, Hayden had already regretted the decision to come here, the amount of Kindred in the room made him feel uneasy, such large groups of Kindred never ended well. He glanced around towards the groups of assorted Kindred, only recalling the names of a select few of them, since arriving in the town, he never really had any interest in mingling, though he had heard there were other Caitiff in the town, which piqued his interest.. What did get his attention however, was the staked man in the center stage, it was a sight he had seen before. A punishment? Wonder what he did. He thought, watching quietly as the Kindred on the stage began surveying the room as he tried to inconspicuously lean against a nearby wall. Turning his attention back to the crowd, Hayden continued to watch as the last few stragglers began trickling into the room. Calling all these Kindred here, must be a public execution..Guess thats a sobering reminder, he thought to himself, flashing back to a few years back to when he first diablerized that Sabbat Kindred, deep down Hayden knew that if they found out, he would end up on that stage himself. Hayden calmly approached one of the vats of animal blood nearby, taking a small glass and fills it up with the viscous fluid, the sight of it alone made his mouth go dry in anticipation, the events of the past few days had left him unable to feed, so the animal blood was a welcome treat. Turning back to the stage as he began casually drinking from the glass, he waited for the scene to unfold, and to learn why he was brought here to begin with.

[Raine_Sage]

The room was beginning to fill up now. More familiar faces. She saw Gregory come in and when he caught her eye and nodded she smiled back. The expression a little distracted but genuine enough, at the very least it was nice not to be the most conspicuously human looking person in the room.

However before she decides on whether or not she wishes to say hello to him another more noticeable greeting grabs her attention and she turns to see Laure making her way towards her through the crowd and she instantly feels just a little more at ease. Laure is about as inconspicuous as a freight train but it's still nice to have at least one person at Elysium more or less on your side. She hoped. It could be hard to tell with Laure sometimes. She had known her intermittently over the past few years but the gargoyle could be exceedingly hard to read. Still she seemed nice enough even if Marie couldn't claim to know a whole lot about her.

"Laure, good to see you. I was beginning to wonder if you would come at all." she replied, accepting the brief embrace. "I see you've noticed the, ah, centerpiece too. Hard to miss isn't it? Just terrible. I came all this way to try and find some reprieve from the Jyhad, I'll be sore if it's caught up to us already. Still..." she looks thoughtful and glances up at the group on the stage, still pointedly avoiding looking at the corpse itself. "They've been chattering. I can't understand a lick of it but they seem awfully pleased about something. So I suppose there's still a chance this could be good news."

[RedSand]

Court continues. People talk and drinks are had, but legitimate gossip seems to be at minimum. No one seems interested in talking shop right now, or maybe the chatty ones just didn't feel like showing up on short notice.

The Toreador and the Caitiff do seem to be talking shop, but they don't do so for long. After a minute or two of silence, the Caitiff sit up and walk out in unison, leaving four Toreador women sitting alone and looking rather pleased with themselves. As they leave, you notice each of them have a large red X tattooed somewhere on their necks. A Toreador women with a heavily scarred face waves to Marie, beckoning her over.

As Kindred bleed in, Crick arrives. She shows up in her usual guise, a plain-looking young girl with dark hair and a bit of a stiff expression. She doesn't have the courtesy to maintain it, unfortunately, and a short blue creature with a thick, chitin-like exterior and spines running down her head takes her place. She pulls out a deck of cards and approaches a crowd of entirely unfazed thin-bloods, who throw their wallets on the table and begin a game immediately.

One of the Gangrel wanders over to Fern as he plugs away at whatever, saddles up to him rather closely, and begins whispering to him in a low voice. When Fern tries to get up to leave, he finds a second Gangrel gripping his shoulder. This doesn't go unnoticed by many, but the guards don't seem to care much.

[Raine_Sage]

Marie, notices the other Toreadore beckoning her over and smiles. "Oh excuse me Laure, I'll be back shortly. It seems Chrysanthemum is finally free and there's something I've been meaning to ask her about."

Politely disengaging from her friend for a moment she wanders over to have a seat with the scarred woman, keeping her voice low but still audible over the steadily increasing ambient noise. "Well don't you look like the cat that got the canary." she comments playfully. "I take it that whatever that was went well?"

She looks over briefly back at the Caitiff before returning her attention to Chrysanthemum. "A rather odd group though, what's with the garish red Xs?"
She couldn't help but think of what you might mark a tree with when it's about to be cut down. That or the worlds worst hickey.

[RedSand]

Chrysantheum rolled her eyes. "Panders. They're Caitiff that are big and strong and want you to know how very, very fortunate they are that they didn't get any clan curses when they were sired. Hence the big fat Xs. Anyway, since we obviously got you all curious, and we were being pretty vague there..."
She leans in a bit and lowers her voice. "We offered them a protection job. Promised some decent cash and got a little sexy when we asked-at least, these two did. Y'know, against the pricks out to get me. They accepted after a bit."

She leaned out after that, and dusted a bit of imaginary dust off her hands. "So, job well done on our part". As she speaks, the girl next to her furls her brow at Marie; if anyone was paying very close attention, they might notice the two of them briefly space out.

[OneCalledBlue]

Laure nods and smiles politely at Marie. "Most certainly. I might just get myself comfortable and see if I can find someone to amuse me while I wait for the main event." she replies.
As Marie walks off she looks over the various kindred and ghouls in the room. The stench of animal carcasses making way for the stench of dead bodies pressed into a small place, the smells of sin and deceit hang in the air. The undercurrents of the beast itself waiting to be released to do God's work. Shadows begin to dart about the corner of her vision as she focuses in on the room around her, pulling her hood up over her face to hide the soft gentle glow of her purple and blue eyes as she tunes in to the sickness and insanity lying dormant in the undead creatures about her. She eyes the Gangrel, their attitude unlike the normal Gangrel aloofness.

The room closes in with the sharpness of the sounds, the tinkling of glasses, footsteps on the floor, murmured voices with low tones, the beating of ghoul hearts and their sharp breaths. The spirits whisper to her now, thick and fast, the secrets close in, pressing against her, begging for release. The babbling of the mad ones rising, pushing against the back of her head. The forces of madness pushing her both directions, crushing her. The beast rises within her, pressing against her, urging her closer toward frenzy as she takes in the information in the room around her. Panic, fear, lust, hunger rise and well up into a knotted ball as she tries to see the strings and threads in the room around her, trying to glimpse the greatest game of all.

Suddenly like a rubber band uncoiling she snaps back to reality, taking a deep breath like a drowning woman purely out of reflex, not having had to actually breath for centuries. Her lungs taste like ash and disease. Her eyes dim and Laure turns, hiding her protruding fangs while she calms down. Fighting back the shadowy figures, the babbling voices and the passages of time that flows through her mind.

"I need a hobby.." she whispers to herself.

[Raine_Sage]

Marie can't help but smile a little at this as a picture begins to come together in her head as to what the Setites might be so pleased about. How interesting. Still she takes Chrysanthemum's hand in a gesture of sympathy.

"Well I'm glad, if anyone deserves a night's peace it's you." she replies warmly. "I can't fault you being vague about that sort of thing in mixed company. But do let me know if there's anything I can do to help." Her eyes flicker briefly over to Jenelle at this last statement before the sound of gasping for breath catches her attention and she turns to see Laure apparently trying to recover from something or other.

Marie sighs. "Goodness I can't leave that girl alone five minutes. I should go see if I can help before she makes a scene. Not that she would be the only one." Marie adds, looking over at the Gangrel currently harassing Fern. "What they want with the Tremere is beyond me. You'd think they'd have learned to stay away from each other by now. At any rate don't be a stranger, I would enjoy getting a chance to talk somewhere a little less rambunctious sometime."

Marie smiles at the group once more before moving back to Laure, looking a tad concerned. "Laure dear is everything alright? You sound terrible."

[Arilus]

Though she did not manage a good look at the staked body's aura, Aislinn was pretty sure that the thing was inhabited. Meaning it was likely more than a grisly prop.

Whilst there was nothing like the fresh, warm, pumping blood of kine, she moved towards the rabble surrounding the vats and decanted some for herself. It was complimentary, after all, and this would give her something to do whilst getting a better read on the place. However, ever paranoid of a surreptitious blood bond, she put a drop of it on her exposed wrist and channelled her thaumaturgical knowledge in analysis of the sample. If satisfied that there was no Kindred vitae, she planned to choke down the fare.

A Taste for Blood: [roll0], 8 successes @ difficulty 4, −1 BP
There were a few happenings that Aislinn was privately observing and pondering. There was that curious creature that changed appearances. And what seemed to be its true form was like nothing she'd ever seen or heard described. Its talents and predilection for gambling hinted at one of the Deceivers, but she had never heard of such an Embrace causing such eclectic and bizarre changes. She would have to ask around later, as everyone else seemed accustomed to its appearance.

As she turned her attention to the Gangrel accosting the ghoul at the computer, she looks briefly startled before taking a piece of paper and what appears to be a round from a pocket. A faint smile briefly plays across her face as she looks at it, then she spends some time examining the cartridge. After all, she still hadn't seen anyone she wished the speak to yet.

I imagine this is a Perception + Investigation roll. Probably at −2 difficulty because of Heightened Senses.

[roll1]
After she had finished gleaning what she could from the odd-looking cartridge, Aislinn's attention snapped to upon hearing the word "Tremere" nearby. Was that ghoul one of her clan's? If so, these Outlanders needed to know that even their ghouls were under the protection of the Pyramid.

"Is there a problem here?" she queried in her normal, honeyed voice and obvious Dublin accent after walking towards the computer, so far betraying no hint of hostility. She did, however, position herself closer to the ghoul.

[Failed Phantasm]

Gregory had been stalking along the periphery of the gathering, apparently lost in thought if his seemingly-glazed over eyes and distracted expression were any indication; closer observation would reveal that he was keeping a surreptitious eye on the proceedings. Meanwhile, the unseen spirit perched on his shoulder bobbed and craned its head to observe the Kindred who were trickling in and promptly breaking off into their own little cliques. Occasionally, it would share a cryptic tidbit, like how most of the Gangrel “smelled of a City Father's bowels” – filtered, as always, through its alien perspective – and he might whisper a reply out of the corner of his mouth, but the night was dragging on in an agonizing languor and Gregory's patience was waning as he waited for tonight's event to begin. There were so many more practical things he could be doing with his time.

As he passed the vats of animal blood for the third (fourth?) time, an abrupt, sharp caw drew Gregory's attention back to the present, and he immediately caught the spirit staring quite intently at something or someone. Following its gaze, he noticed the situation that was developing around Fern, with Lei and Tulio flanking the ghoul and Aislinn quickly walking up to the three of them. His brow furrowed as he stared at the pair of Gangrel. “What are those two doing?” he murmured, half to himself. They'd been going around all night doing the same thing and asking the same strange questions to just about everyone else for the last half-hour, but bothering the maybe-Tremere ghoul with an actual-Tremere vampire hovering nearby was a bit imprudent, even for them. Well, for Lei, anyway.

Gregory stopped his pacing to lean on the nearby wall and watch from the shadows as this little mini-drama unfolded, deciding not to interfere unless the ghoul was in demonstrable risk of some kind of harm. “Let's see if we can't figure out what they're up to,” he whispered to the crow-spirit. He began to watch the Gangrel pair intently, taking note of their body language and tone of voice, while Crow helpfully repeated a few of the odder questions and remarks – or at least, odd from a spirit's perspective – that they'd made recently.


Gregory will attempt to determine Lei and Tulio's motivation for bothering Fern.
I assume the roll is Wits + Empathy and his Wits (Intuitive) specialization could potentially apply in that case, but I will roll another Attribute + Ability combination if required.
Roll: 9, 5, 5, 5, 2, 10, 1. Result can be verified here (http://rpgroller.com/wod/index.php?show_roll=497790).

Since he's trying to do this stealthily, I also rolled Dexterity + Stealth + Celerity, in case it would be necessary to remain unnoticed during his observations. Otherwise, disregard the roll.
Roll: 8, 10, 2, 1, 7, 10, 2, 2. Result can be verified here (http://rpgroller.com/wod/index.php?show_roll=497791).

[RedSand]

The first one to approach her, a bit of lanky gangrel with stained, leathery hands, answers first. "Well there was. This...uh, lovely young lady wasn't being very sociable. That's just so...against the spirit of the court. Definitely not good for one's I'd say. Wouldn't you agree, Lei?"
The second one, a very hairy, very bulky man, retorts. "Certainly. And when we tried to strike up a conversation earlier, she just ignored us. Turned her nose up. Terrible etiquette where I'm from."
Fern scowls. "If you two don't screw off, now, I"m going to call my benefactors and t-"
"What? They'll keep holed up in their suites on McGregory, 'deliberate' for two weeks, than send you out to get us with a lighter and a box of toothpicks?"
Fern reflexively reaches into his jacket pocket, which likely contained something before she was searched for weapons. She settles for a long glare.
"See, here we are, showing you how very funny we are, how understanding we are of your situation, and you still refuse to converse with us. No sense of humor on you Warlocks. Or maybe that's just her. Huh? How about you, Sweets?"
He smiles at Aislinn. Most of the room is watching him now, a good deal contemptuously so, but he seems to be enjoying himself. The guards are looking awake for once, but they don't make any moves toward the scene.

[Arilus]

Aislinn was pleased that the ghoul was thought of as the Tremere's. She had taken the initiative on an educated guess, though she would have to verify the fact later. The more immediate problem was the utter lack of the proper fear in these whelps. Half of power is simply the perception of it. She would need to speak to her local superiors about making an example of these two before the attitude spreads.

Her peripheral vision seemed to indicate that security was starting to get interested and the mood of the room was on her side. Meaning that neither violence nor supernatural persuasion were advisable.

"I have a brilliant sense of humor," she replied, electing for a faint malevolent grin and a sickly sweet inflection. "Right now I'm laughing at what might happen if you don't leave this dear ghoul alone," adding an undertone of malice and putting a hand affectionately on Fern's shoulder. Sure, it was a clichéd threat, but these two didn't seem bright enough to pick up on anything more subtle. And they seemed indifferent to the foul impression they were making on the other Kindred here. Hopefully, her lack of the stated laughter would help drive the point home.

She hoped her lack of knowledge of local relationships and reputations wouldn't come back to bite her in the arse. Though she reminded herself that she was merely representing the Pyramid here, not actually determining whether this particular ghoul was worth such protection.

Manipulation + Intimidation: [roll0], 6 successes @ difficulty 4 (6 − 2, as per V20 p 266 with Enchanting Voice) vs opposed Willpower

[RedSand]

The lanky one cracks a shaky smile, and his eyes dart around the room. He's definitely unnerved, and he seems aware that the room is against him, but it just seems to...excite him? It's hard to tell, but he sniggers a bit, as he backs away a bit and adjusts his jacket.
Lei isn't as unnerved, but isn't laughing. He stands closer to his compatriot, and flashes some quick looks to the two other Gangrel in the room. From what you can tell, this isn't the first time they've seen that look.
"...huh. Well, I'll give it to you, that is a funny thing to imagine. Oh, geez. Y'know, your sense of humor, and, eh, yourself really, it reminds of a particularly hilarious limerick about a lady vampire. Don't remember the whole thing, heh, but I think it starts with a vampire named Mabel and then, er, something about drinking yourself under the table? I don't recall, maybe you could,heheh, piece it together yourself?"

[Raine_Sage]

The scene with the Gangrel had reached the point where they were the center of attention, there wasn't an eye in the room that wasn't looking at them which strangely enough didn't seem to dissuade them at all. Of course what could you really expect from a Gangrel, they thrive on confrontation.

Intimidation tactics, especially as a follow up to Aislinn's, might only rile them up further, however she knew the general heft of their inquiries and even better knew someone who might be able to help answer those inquiries. Perhaps if she could change the course of the conversation to more pleasant topics then they would be able to put some of this tension behind them before it turned into an all out feud between the Gangrel and the Tremere. If it hadn't already.

Subtly Approaching Gregory she taps him lightly on the shoulder and nods in the general direction of the Gangrel. "A moment of your time if you would? I feel it might be best if she had a little help. Safety in numbers yes?" she flashes him a smile before she turns and instead approaches Aislinn and the two Gangrel by Fern.

She arranges her expression into something suitably doe eyed and more importantly harmless. The last thing she wants to do is make herself out to be a threat. As she draws closer she bursts out into a clear peal of laughter, clapping her hands together as though he's just told the most delightful joke.

"Oh I do know that one! How colorful wherever did you learn it?" she asks looking up at Tulio through long lashes in a way she hopes comes off as affectionate rather than drowsy. "You'll have to tell me some more sometime. But you know speaking of telling things, you really are barking up the wrong tree. If you'll pardon the expression."

[Failed Phantasm]

Gregory's brow remained furrowed as he watched the back-and-forth between the Gangrel and Tremere play out. His eyes narrowed as Tulio kept talking and uttered his not-at-all-subtle reference to a not-at-all-polite limerick. What was he doing? Reckless Childe. Maybe there was some truth to the rumors about his having made some powerful enemies down south, since he seemed to be on track to do the same here. 'What will you do if you get run out of Alaska? Now that you're here, you'll find you haven't many bridges left to burn.' He leaned forward slightly, glaring at Tulio from the shadows. 'I wonder if you even think that far ahead.' Gregory had just about made up his mind to step in when he noticed Marie sashaying his way with the hint of a coy smile on her face; he gave her a nod of acknowledgement upon hearing her request, but did not yet move from his spot against the wall. He wanted the extra moment to observe and formulate his own response.

Since ignoring a shameless attention-seeker was probably the most effective thing to do, Gregory ignored Tulio – Marie was plying him with her charms, anyway – and focused his attention on Lei. Straightening up, he took a few steps forward and addressed the burly man with a lopsided, friendly grin, “Lei, what was that you were saying about etiquette just now?” He walked a little closer and started speaking in a more relaxed, conversational tone. Hopefully, the spectators would take the hint and return to their own private conversations. “I haven't seen you in months. Not since... what was it?” Gregory rubbed the back of his neck and glanced upwards while he thought. “Three months ago, right? When I helped you dodge the RCMP to get back across the Canadian border.” He looked back down and met Lei's gaze. “I've been here over half an hour now and you haven't spoken one word to me yet. I'm hurt.” There really was a genuine note of hurt in his voice: he and Lei weren't exactly the closest of friends, but the potential existed. They had a working relationship and at least some vaguely related interests, not to mention how lonely the unlives of a Country Gangrel and an old Caitiff could be. Not many other Kindred went haring off into the wilderness on a regular basis, at any rate.

Once he was close enough, Gregory reached out his arm for a handshake – something about it being one of the most trustworthy gestures in the Western world. Slowly and casually, though. Sudden movements would put any bodyguard on edge. “It really is good to see you still in one piece.” He indicated Tulio with a brief sideways jerk of his head. “You know he can take care of himself. He hardly needs to be protected from the scary Toreador, anyway,” he said, placing a subtly mocking emphasis on the word “scary”. “Why don't you and I catch up over drinks?”

[Danteric]

Hayden placed the glass back down on a nearby table, grateful for the fact that they had provided blood, despite the fact it was foul animal vitae. Turning his attention to the small scuffle with the nearby ghoul and Gangrel, he wondered what was going on as people began to gather. Hayden watched as Aislinn approached the Gangrel, interrupting their not so private conversation with each other. Using the distraction to his advantage, Hayden casually approached the small group, trying to get close enough to properly hear their conversation. Hayden watched with a raised brow as another Kindred, Marie, began to approach aswell. Oh my, he thought, hoping this would provide long enough of a distraction until the Kindred on the stage decided to show them why they were called here. I wonder how this will turn out, entertaining I hope.. He thought as he watched the events unfold.

[Arilus]

Aislinn was confused upon seeing the two other Kindred come to her aid. The data are there, but she found she no longer remembered how to interpret why someone would help her if they did not stand to benefit from it. Either way, she may as well capitalize on the opportunity to extract the ghoul.

"Now might be a good time to run along to your domitor before these amadáin remember you're here," she whispered into Fern's ear, hoping the ghoul had the sense to slip out discreetly whilst they were distracted.

[RedSand]

Lei responds to Gregory's outstretched hand with a bit of a tired glare. He shoots it back to Tulio. "Brah. C'mon."
Tulio's smile bled it's enthusiasm, and for a second there is genuine disappointment on his face. "Nah, you're right. Today's just not a funny day, looks like. I think I'll scram."
He walks away from the table before letting out a short, low screech, and sniggers as a few Kindred jump. The other two Gangrel drop what they're doing and follow him up the stairs. Lei nods to him and stays behind. The guards give him passive-agressive glares as he goes, and he turns his nose up to them with a harumph.
He ascends, then quickly rushes back down the stairs and leans over the railing. "By the way. Thinbloods spiked the vat with their vitae, not that anyone noticed or should care. I mean, that's just crude." He shrugs at them, then dashes back up.

[Failed Phantasm]

Rather than let his hand falter, Gregory crossed his arms and arched an eyebrow at Lei's tired glare, then shrugged slightly and gave him a resigned look in return. It had been as blatant and clumsy maneuver as Tulio's, but Gregory was beginning to feel acutely fed up with all the newcomers trying to rock the boat in the last few months. 'Is there nowhere left on Earth where I can get a moment's peace from this pointless bickering?' he thought, suppressing the urge to rub his temple. Meanwhile, the crow-spirit fixed an unusually cold and quiet stare on the trio of City Gangrel, following their every move with its eyes as the three of them slunk out of the room together. It hopped to adjust its perch on Gregory's shoulder, coincidentally drawing his attention at just the same moment Tulio came dashing back down the stairs to make his eye-rolling attempt at a parting shot.

“Classy.” he muttered wryly to his totem, though an onlooker might assume it was merely spoken in Tulio's general direction. After he retreated up the stairs a second time and it was clear he wasn't going to come back, Gregory shook his head and breathed a quiet sigh. “Whoever called this blasted meeting had better start it soon,” he said, as much to the floor as anyone in particular – Aislinn, Fern, Lei, and Marie were all still in his immediate vicinity.

[Arilus]

Bollocks! Aislinn had been planning on giving out cryptic warnings about drinking the provided blood, but that Gangrel had to go and spill the secret. At least the added vitae seemed like a prank or pathetic scheming, not some odd form of covert Sabbat recruitment.

"Thank ye for your assistance. I am Aislinn O'Feary."

Aura Perception: [roll0], 2 successes @ difficulty 8, can distinguish the main color

[Raine_Sage]

Marie watched Tulio vanish from the room, her expression changing to faint distaste the moment he was gone. Ugh how juvenile, she didn't expect much from Gangrel but she might have expected a little better than that. Still they were gone and the Tremere was introducing herself so there was no point in stewing over it any further.

"Oh think nothing of it, I'm happy to have been of some help." she replied, turning to Aislinn and Fern. "Though I should also thank Gregory, I feel like they probably wouldn't have taken me very seriously without him. Oh my name is Marie, before I forget to introduce myself. The two of you are alright?" she looks more at Fern when she asks this. Ghouls could be something of a grey area at Elysium depending on who was holding the court, and the guards hadn't seemed interested in stepping in until other vampires had gotten involved which told her that this was probably one of those grey area moments.

"I would say I'm surprised they were so bold but I'm not really. I just bet they're not done being a bother either. They're just going to wait until they're less likely to get their corpse mounted on a stage for it."

[Arilus]

Aislinn was grateful that Marie had provided the names of both her and Gregory. And Gregory had indicated Marie as a Toreador, corroborated by the Degenerate's fashion sense. Thankfully her excellent memory had become nearly perfect since her Embrace; she'd had difficulty remembering names in life, and she would need to learn many new ones in her new home.

"Probably," she concurred with Marie's sentiment, ignoring the question of her well-being due to not realizing it was aimed at her. Her initial impression of those Gangrel was that of bullies that enjoy flexing their muscles and causing trouble for its own sake. It was always tiresome dealing with such juvenile mentalities, assuming they are what they seem.

"What did they wanted with you?" she inquired of Fern in a low voice, not having overheard the initial conversation. Circumstances had necessitated action without information, and she needed to find out who exactly she had defended and what the disagreement had been about.

[RedSand]

Lei shoots Gregory another glare, this one...reluctant, guilty, maybe confused? He leaves for a table of his own before Gregory, but as he does, he says "It was just a joke to him. If he'd tried anything, I'd have stopped him."

Fern seems to respond a bit reluctantly to questioning, even from help. "I...guess they wanted to know what I was coding-eh, please don't ask. That, and they seemed to just want to give me crap for being Tremere, or- I don't know, they could've just been bored. Or something."
She pauses, putting away his laptop and plugging her thermos, as he no longer finds it appetizing. "In any case, thanks. That was pretty cool of you guys."
None of you end up waiting long; less than five minutes after the Gangrel's departure, Ainsley Dunsirn arrives. The first thing you would notice about Miss Dunsirn is her height: she's remarkably tall, at almost six and a half feet. Her face is oblong with a wide jaw, and her hair is short, buzzed at the sides and dyed lavender, in a style that reminds you half of 90s punk and half 80s metal. She's dressed as she usually does, her wardrobe eschewing the Giovanni standard of slinky dresses and suits with skirts for blazers, overcoats, and tight pants, all of which tend to be stark white.
She arrives alone, save a large wolf dog she'd ghouled, which preceded here down the steps and gave the place a relentless sniffing before standing by Ms. Dunsirn at attention at a snap of her fingers. She greets the corpse guards fondly, addressing the two Setites in a language none of you understand and shaking the gargoyle's hand. Each receives a peck on the cheek and is allowed to step down into the crowd, with the exception of the ghoul. She turns to the court, and her face projects a more business minded aura.
"Good evening, all. I thank you for coming on such short notice, and I hope you find the matter at hand worthwhile, given your investment of time. Now, I imagine you all have a few questions regarding this scene...?"

[RedSand]

A couple thinbloods ask if they can address unrelated questions later, which Ainsley agrees to. Everyone else seems to prefer waiting for an answers.
"Very well. First off, I imagine you're wondering at it's appearance. It has nothing to with what I or any other Kindred did; he's a Samedi. They're a bloodline that rot upon Embrace, and stay that way, not unlike the curse of the Nosferatu. They draw their roots to criminal organizations in the Caribbean, and quite a few fancy themselves assassins. Which is why he's here."
She walks over to a nearby fold out table, and one of her attendants brings out a laptop. She flips it open to reveal the face a wrinkled old white man, in a black suit with a red tie and plastered smile. "John Mallard. Some of you might recognize him as an Alaskan senator, currently on business here in Claremont. Five hours ago, our odious captive here shot him. Four bullets to the chest and stomach. Old sod bled fast."
She leans back out. "Now, let's get a few things straight here. I'm not a prince. I don't give a damn what you do or who you kill in your free time, as long as it doesn't come back to me. I set up these courts because I agree that we all have some common interests, but if you want favors, you'd best come bearing something other than a bent knee. So this squishy little bastard? He's as much your problem as he is mine."
Miss Dunsirn steps to the side, and the ghoul behind her hoists the Samedi up on one shoulder, trying to avoid touching some of his rotted flesh. He steps down the stage and slides the still-staked body across the floor. You may note a use of Potence from him. She breaks out in a little amused grin.
"So...show me. How does the community of Claremont handle disruptions like these?"

[Arilus]

"If you'd be kind enough to let the stake be removed, I'd like to hear his side of the story," Aislinn requests. She certainly wasn't going to take this woman at her word. And the alleged assassin's motives should be known before anyone levels judgement.

[RedSand]

"A definite possibility. Anyone want to stop her?"
A few "of courses" and "sures" and "I want to hear this"'s followed. Mr. Bradley, who'd done little this evening, interjected. "He could use Obfuscation and try to escape. And it's very possible he still has a weapon on him. Samedi excel at hiding such things on, while, in themselves."

[Raine_Sage]

"I'm no executioner but if his escaping is a problem I might be able to keep him in place while more experience parties ask whatever they like." Marie volunteers. "I'm not about to go making guarantees of course. I'm as interested as anyone about why he's trying to shoot political officials but I'm also not going to weep into my pillow if he doesn't exactly get a fair trial."

She glances about at the crowd, Aislinn and Gregory in particular. "But if it's decided that he gets set loose I'll make sure he stays on the grounds."

[Arilus]

"If he can fool all of our eyes, then perhaps he deserves to escape," Aislinn counters whilst tilting her head slightly to the side. "But a little insurance couldn't hurt. Any strapping Kindred care to keep him restrained?" she proposes. Odds were that the very human reaction of attempting to impress a beautiful women would sway at least one strong vampire present.

[RedSand]

Mr. Bradley responds again. "If he attempts to escape, I could most likely dominate him. His potency can't be too high if he's from a recent bloodline."
As he speaks, the gargoyle that was previously guarding him puts a weighty foot on the Samedi's knee and crouches, giving him a good level stare. "He's in my domain. He can't escape me here, he can't slay me, and he definitely can't slay us all."
One of the two Setites, a short man with a braided beard, also steps up. "If physical restraints fail, I shall hold him fast with the gaze of Set." He gives a quick wink to Aislinn.

The Kindred in the room close in. If nothing else, the Samedi would have quite a crowd to push past should he attempt to escape.

The gargoyle rips the stake out of the Samedi with quite a bit of force, ripping open his chest with a squish. A vile smell fills the air as it hacks and convulses to life, clutching it's chest with a wheeze. The gargoyle didn't leave the only wound there; torpor hadn't done much to heal the man.

He looks to the gargoyle with anger, than to the rest of the crowd with growing fear and eventually, despair.
"Oh, **** me. I thought you didn't have courts out this north."

[Arilus]

Aislinn admired the Gargoyle's handiwork. Such brute power only further indicated that the Slaves should be serving their creators once more. Aislinn did not want to get caught violating the Montmartre Pact, but she certainly would if she could do so undetected. Luckily, there were plenty of volunteers amongst the other Kindred present for alternative methods to keep the Samedi contained. She briefly considered trying to coax the truth out of the captive, but settled on the most direct route. It's not like such a gathering had the same ground rules as a Camarilla trial.

"So, tell us why you shot John Mallard," she commanded as she stared into his eyes. Even if her vampiric abilities failed, it would be expedient to have the Samedi assume his guilt was predetermined.

Mesmerize: [roll0] @ difficulty opposed Willpower − 2 (ineffective if opposed generation < 7th)

[RedSand]

"Because he was disgusting. They were all disgusting. Like me and you...but way worse."

His face scrunches heavily, in a manner that makes the hypocrisy of that statement abundant. "I was offered money, too. 70 grand and a new car. Needed a new one since it got totaled in Fresno. ****ing Fresno. But the way he was all...gross, it made **** easier, y'know? Made me go the extra mile with them."

[Failed Phantasm]

From the moment Ms. Dunsirn started speaking, Gregory braced himself for the torrent of bull**** that would inevitably spew out of the Giovanni's mouth. That she claimed descent from that notorious Clan of shamelessly inbred and morally-bankrupt necromancers was only part of the reason for his distrust: he recognized in her words and actions the same carefully choreographed chicanery that characterized the Camarilla courts of London and elsewhere. The presence of the Setites made entirely too much sense now; how indebted was she to them for tonight's little performance? She claimed to “not give a damn”, and yet here she was – a new arrival, like most of the rest of the Kindred at the gathering – positioning herself in such a way as to broaden her own political power. She would take full credit for the success of this court if things continued to go well, or claim plausible deniability if things did not. After all, had she not “deferred” this “decision” to the “Claremont community”? It was either an excuse or an “example of fair leadership”, whichever she needed it to be. Gregory narrowed his eyes and glared at her from his corner as she spoke, wondering at how what she left unsaid had the potential to speak volumes about the truth. Still, the gravity of her accusation was not lost on him. An assassination attempt on such a prominent political figure would draw far too much unwanted attention their way. More importantly, someone might very well have died that night. Why?

Gregory was pleased when he heard Aislinn's request to let the Samedi speak on his own behalf, but didn't honestly expect much to come of it. Kindred of all kinds cared little for mortal lives, even less for their laws, and – when they could get away with it – not all for the consequences. Even a token sense of fairness was much appreciated, if a bit unexpected. His eyes darted towards the door and the grate when the gathering at large discussed un-staking the alleged assassin and the potential for escape. “Never any plants in the places Kindred meet, are there?” he commented out of the corner of his mouth to the crow-spirit. The crowd pressed in around the supine figure, making escape a difficult prospect, but Gregory still shifted into a more wary stance, ready to spring into action if necessary.

Gregory listened intently for the Samedi's response to Aislinn, and snorted disbelievingly when he actually heard it. “As if it were for anything but money,” he muttered quietly to his totem. Not raising his voice, Gregory rolled his eyes slightly and repeated, mockingly, “'Because he was disgusting.' What rubbish. Not that politicians are 'innocent' by any stretch of the imagination, mind, but that's hardly reason to kill one. He just wanted his blood money and a new car.” He couldn't quite stare at the Samedi through the crowd of Kindred pressing around him, so he had to settle for shaking his head at the floor in front of him. Still, the questioning was likely to continue, so Gregory just sighed and leaned back against the wall behind him, listening carefully for whatever would happen next.


Gregory will attempt to assess Ms. Dunsirn's motives while she speaks. The roll is Wits + Empathy, with the Intuitive specialization potentially applying.
Roll: 4, 4, 4, 6, 6, 2, 5. Result can be verified here (http://rpgroller.com/wod/index.php?show_roll=498155).

When the Samedi is freed, he will then attempt to get a read on the alleged assassin. The roll is the same as above.
Roll: 9, 9, 9, 8, 9, 1, 1. Result can be verified here (http://rpgroller.com/wod/index.php?show_roll=498266).

[Raine_Sage]

"Well regardless of how disgusting he was or wasn't its clear our friend here wasn't exactly the brains of the opperation." Marie said, looking down at the Samedi with something potentially akin to pity. He had clearly gotten in over his head when he accepted this job.

Leaning down so they were more or less at eye level she gives the rotting ghoul a sympathetic smile and her voice takes on an almost motherly tone. "So why don't you tell us who it was that paid you dear? There's nothing really to lose, and if you're honest it might even go easier for you."

Awe: [roll0] difficulty -2 from enchantin voice if applicable. Eloquent spec may also apply.

Empathy Check:[roll1]

[RedSand]

About two-thirds of the room lean in, watching Marie now a bit more intently than the Samedi, but absorbing things nonetheless.

The Samedi reels a bit-a combination of chest wounds, Dominate, Presence and waking from Torpor does not seem to be doing his cognition any favors. His manner of speech is ragged and a bit confused. "Why...I, I didn't meet with my employer. I normally don't. It's all online. Dead drops, lotta people holding, the, uh, the cash for you. It's not even cash-all wired. I'mma, on the books, I'm an entrepreneur, heh, don't you know? Just supposed to drive the car up to me when I win and then I go home and pay taxes."

He scrunches his face back, taking a long redundant breath and trying to compose himself. The gargoyle jabs a stony palm into his solar plexus. He jumps and curses, a bit more vitae spilling out his many chest wounds. "****ing christ! Look, I probably wasn't the only one gunning for him! Dude had a lot of goddamn enemies, so, just, ugh..." The Gargoyle and him give each other a long, pregnant stare. The Samedi ends it with a sigh.

[Arilus]

Aislinn saw the Samedi as practically feral. Kindred assassinating kine? For money? What a waste. And unfortunately, he doesn't seem to know anything of use. As her interest in the Samedi was evaporating, she became curious as to the motive of the woman who presented him. She obviously intended for the assembled Kindred to grant this Stiff a deserved Final Death. Aislinn fully intended to neutralize this supernatural threat, as those untainted by the Beast must be allowed to thrive, but what exactly did the woman who called this meeting want?

"Why do you care about what happens to him?" she asked, directing the question towards Ainsley whilst scrutinizing the woman for any nonverbal cues to her intentions. Aislinn tried her best to be congenial in tone and phrasing, as she did not want to inadvertently embarrass a powerful Kindred. Such slights tend to have unpleasant consequences in the long term.

Manipulation + Empathy: [roll0], probably 4 successes @ difficulty 6 − 2 = 4 vs opposed Willpower roll (as per V20 p 265)

Wits + Empathy: [roll1]

Wow, I'm really milking Empathy here.

[OneCalledBlue]

Catchup.

Laure was lost for a moment, following the chains, the trails and paths that led into a vast chasm of darkness, the hunger palpable.
She tapped into the network once more to help her, the babble filling her mind again, edging her to insanity.

"Laure dear is everything alright? You sound terrible."
Laure snapped back again, though her vision was gone her mind was clouded, confused, whirling with images and scenes of the past, present and the true natures of those in the room.

She turned to Marie, her teeth still slowly retracting, her grin like one of condescending amusement, she whispers, hard, fast, her movements exaggerated "The wager is erstwhile upon us, enclosed in the maw and the beat of long dead sentiments. The silver ape dances to the tune of a fiddle so grim, that the monkey in acquired shoes claps and cheers and rattles the ancient cage."

She giggles for a moment, then seems to briefly compose herself. "Give me a moment to compose myself in peace Marie, then I shall join you once more."

Present

Having long since calmed down Laure had been viewing the scene unfolding, her suspicions growing. She heard mention of kindred wanting to assassinate kine. "Stupid games they play." She whispered under her breath while standing quietly on the other side of the room.

"Why do you care about what happens to him?"

"Finally, a decent question." she thinks to herself. Stepping forward she places a gentle hand on Aislinn's shoulder, aware that it was a strange hand and would perhaps be unwelcomed, ready to remove it easily.
"Indeed.." she whsipered in his ear, in full view of everyone and loud enough for all to hear. ".. are they seeking to punish a kindred for foolish and corrupt actions, or are they playing a larger game? Are they protecting the Kine perhaps?
Sometimes lies paint pictures so large and bright, that they illuminate the truth."

[Failed Phantasm]

“And if I may further interrupt, Ms. Dunsirn,” Gregory interjected after Aislinn had finished speaking, “you seem to know a great deal more about this entire affair than anyone else.” He'd been listening to the radio on the way in and out of Claremont and could not recall hearing anything at all about the Senator. Ms. Dunsirn or some other powerful Cainite suppressing the news was not out of the realm of possibility, but this was the kind of story that no amount of money could kill. If anything, they would be trying to kill each other in order to break the story first. Why wasn't anyone in the media reporting on the (attempted) assassination of such a high-profile politician? Considering that, he added after a moment, “Including the entire state of Alaska, it would seem.”

The majority of the assembly still looked as if they were hanging on Marie's every word – if Kindred could drool, he imagined more than a few would be, either out of feeblemindedness or lust – so perhaps the Giovanni would feel like gloating a bit if she thought not nearly so many people were paying her any mind. He took a few steps forward, gesturing with a lazy wave of his arm towards the prone Samedi hidden behind the crowd, and said, “Since our unfortunate prisoner is hardly telling us anything a witless Childe could not guess at, perhaps you would be so kind as to enlighten us?” He crossed his arms loosely and looked directly at the Giovanni, but his head was tilted curiously and his stance was rather relaxed, so he hoped that he did not appear confrontational.


All aboard the Empathy train! Wits + Empathy to assess Ms. Dunsirn's honesty and motives as she responds to both Aislinn and Gregory.
Result: 6, 4, 9, 9, 1, 3, 9. Result can be verified here (http://rpgroller.com/wod/index.php?show_roll=498526).

I also rolled Perception + Alertness, in case there might be something not immediately obvious in her reaction that would require it, but alas, no successes unless the difficulty is lower than 6:
Result: 2, 4, 3, 5. Result can be verified here (http://rpgroller.com/wod/index.php?show_roll=498529).

[Raine_Sage]

While the others inquire into the motives of the Giovanni, Marie keeps her attention on the Samedi and speaks to him while for the moment he has time to collect his thoughts. She keeps her voice low and soothing.

"There's no need for quarrels dear. You don't need to hold anything back right now. Why don't you tell me your name dear? And maybe perhaps how the senator was disgusting? What did he do? It's ok, you can tell me."

[RedSand]

Dunsirn's expression doesn't change much, though she allows herself a full smile instead of a half one. She turns to each of you as she speaks.
She draws out her words as she speaks, in a voice that screams simple enough that you'll be able to get it, sweetie ."Good question, good assumption, and...whatever that was, dear, I'm sure it was very well-executed. I do know more than I've said, because I said as much as I wished to say without prompting. Now that I've been prompted, well..."She takes a seat and flips through a mental notebook.

"He was shot during a meeting with Pentex staff. In case you didn't know, he owned a bit of stock in the company, as do we, more or less. By some miracle, he managed to get past our security despite not appearing to possess enough Obfuscate to disappear while seen. Now, the room they were meeting in was, much like this one, below ground and we doubt we incurred many pedestrians. Now, when we searched him, we found a bolt-action rifle pressed up against his spine, but despite having a decent vantage point to shoot and run, he decided to get in close with an Uzi. Considerate of you there, my little necrotic marshmallow."

"**** off and lick a skeleton's groi-ahhhh damnit!" The Gargoyle grips him a bit harder, sinking two of his claws between the back joint of his knee. It doesn't look like it gets past his Fortitude enough to really hurt him, but it seems rather painful nevertheless.

"Either way, we have our wraiths interrogating the late Mr. Mallard's soul, in addition to a few...private investigators, I suppose you could call them, of our own on the hunt for his employer. But that's the business of the Giovanni. This little pustule trespasses against us all just by setting foot in Claremont. So he's here, and so he'll stay until you-or I suppose we-are through with him. So do get comfy there, rood bwhy, and Higgins, don't enjoy yourself too much now."

"I'm Haitian. My accent is Creole, goddamn it."

PRIOR TO INTERRUPTION

The Samedi looks at Marie. He keeps his voice low, but enough people keep enough focus on Marie that she doesn't exclusively hear him. "He was like...when you look at someone through the corner, and you just barely catch 'em as they move...it was like that while looking straight at them. You'd stare at them, and they'd look mostly fine, but you'd catch these quick flashes of activity, and they'd look like...too many mouths, eyes, everything. Skin like callouses. Teeth underneath their chins, edged fingers and-and ****ing tentacles, and around them all were these little white worms, just squirming everywhere. And they were laughing and eating steak, just sitting there like they wer-ugh. **** off and lick a skeleton's groi-aahhh damnit!"

[Arilus]

Aislinn's hand reflexively shot to her waist when Laure touched her. She let go of the concealed knife's handle when she determined that the intimidating green paw was apparently friendly. She feigned not minding the contact, though it admittedly made her somewhat nervous. Especially when the next words out of the Gargoyle's mouth were those of a Malkavian in a Slave's guise. If they could be decrypted, Lunatics' insight could be of use, but it is exceedingly difficult to predict the behavior of deranged minds. And such uncertainty was sometimes dangerous.

She split her attention between the Samedi's hushed rant and the Giovanni's explanation. The former gave her a hypothesis and the latter only became less easy to understand. She decided to pursue both angles simultaneously. Even though she never liked dealing with the Necromancers. She had been impressed by her former friend's necromancy, but the Giovanni as a whole seem to practice a limited and pathetic blood sorcery.

"Why did ye not deal with the assassin internally, then?" she queried after walking next to the prisoner squatting down. Whilst making eye contact with the Necromancer she removed a glove and touched some of the Samedi's vitae spilled by the Gargoyle whilst again proceeding through the Hermetic rite she had performed on the animal blood laced with Kindred vitae.

A Taste for Blood: [roll0], 9 successes @ difficulty 4, −1 BP

In addition to the normal effects of a Taste for Blood, Aislinn is looking for any indications something is abnormal about the vitae. Eg supernatural poison, disease, etc. I presume this is a valid use of the power, especially with 9 successes.

[Raine_Sage]

Marie can't help but feel for the Samedi, just a little. He gives off a sort of rotting puppydog vibe, and his ramblings remind her very much of Laure. She has always had a soft spot for outcasts, for better or ill, and especially those touched by madness. She has memories of her early nights, lost in fugues induced by drugged blood and giggling rather manically on plush couches or sometimes in the gutters depending on how kind her sire felt that evening. She reaches out to put a sympathetic hand on his shoulder, wincing only a little as it sinks slightly into the spongy flesh, before she stands and addresses the crowd at large.

"I feel like there is a saying that applies here about people in glass houses. Friends it is clear to anyone with eyes that we are in incredibly mixed company this evening. And in the absence of a higher authority we find ourselves faced with a dilema. Let's go over exactly what was done here shall we?"

She moves in a circle around the Samedi, subtly shooing away the gargoyle before he can inflict any more damage. "He has killed a man. A very public figure yes, but still with no major breach of the masquerade. And his actions were motivated by desperation, not bloodlust. There are far far too few here who can claim they have never killed a man in a moment of weakness or desperation. Not even I. Which leaves us with two facts." she pauses slightly for a more dramatic effect.

"One," she continues, "is that someone else used this poor unfortunate soul to kill on their behalf. And will likely have no qualms finding another assassin to replace this one. Two, is that until there is more investigation the details are far too murky to draw any sort of reasonable conclusion as to motive or the true culprit. Which is why I humbly request that this Kindred be remanded into my custody until more details come to light.

"Keeping him alive may have other uses. The one who hired him might show their face hoping to clear up loose ends. Or perhaps given some time to recover, he will remember a useful detail. I will not argue that he is not guilty of murder. I will argue that we need not put him to death so hastily. I'm confident in my ability to keep him within the town, and out of trouble until we have time to reach a proper verdict."

She tries hard, to appeal to humanity in some, to logic in others, to tempt yet more with the possibility of catching an even bigger fish. But most importantly to those who don't want the Jyhad to catch up to them quite so quickly. Killing the assassin means whatever web of intrigue he's a part of is still intact. Catching his employer has a chance to unravel it before it can insert itself too deeply. And finally an appeal to the Samedi, a promise of protection, from his employer and from other kindred should he agree.

Manipulation + Expression, if the ST thinks different attributes would be better I'll reroll with those. Enchanting voice probably applies here, persuasive specialization might also apply.
[roll0]

[RedSand]

Marie's speech moves quite a few people. Her use of Presence helps; the majority of the scene-the thinbloods, the Caitiff, Lei, the Toreador and a few other clans pockmarking the crowd were already hanging on her every word, and their faces grow contemplative and bold as she finishes. Even some of the guards drop their combative stance and look a bit empathetic. The Samedi seems shocked; the gargoyle seems intensely disappointed.

An annoyed Miss Dunsirn, however, seems to still a bit stuck on Ainslinn's comment. "I needed people to see he's here so there's more than just my word positing that a necrotic assassin came into out city. I wanted to set a precedence for future infractions such as this, because next time the person who catches him might not be me. I didn't know I would require the skills of others to coax information out of him. And I did believe, Miss O'Feary, that this type of action concerns us all, and I didn't want people complaining to me that I didn't allow for their input. And speaking of concerning us all...Miss Renault, you do realize this man, sloppily or not, completed his objective. What do you have to stop him from running back to his employers? What of your own safety, or the safety of whoever ends up guarding him?

"You're assuming 'don't get staked by the locals' wasn't an objective, hon. Or that they wouldn't kill me just for talking to you, which there's a pretty decent chance of."

One of the thinbloods chimes in. "Either way, it's not like he's done us wrong. Icing a politician seems like a pretty good way to spend an afterlife."

"Damn right it i-ah that wasn't even an insult!"

"You're talking out of turn."

Mr Bradley pipes up again. "He won't be able to go anywhere near most of the city, though-his obfuscate won't protect against the cameras, and snow gear won't exactly hide the stench or the, uh, fluids from pedestrians. It'd be very risky. You could take some animal blood to feed him, I suppose."

The Setite with the braided beard retorts. "He is a trained killer, Miss Marie. Pity him or not, you can't trust his words."


Whispers breed and multiply among the room. The thinbloods in particular seem to support sparing the Samedi's life. After a few moments, Crick whistles a noise that sounds somewhere between a firecracker going off and a dying whale, which you're fairly certain your own voicebox couldn't replicate. "Look, if you want keep the Stiff alive, we formally pledge our support. But he doesn't go anywhere near the city. Whatever bull**** he pulled to get into the city before will probably make him too easy to lose, and I'm not having him cause **** on my end. Anyone in the city sees him, the next thing they see is a big patch of blackened snow, along with whoever was escorting him. You get me, squishy?"

"I'm a hired gun. Threats are my native language, and I speak it in a prettier accent then you, you...Cthulhoid...what the hell are you, seriously?"

[Raine_Sage]

"I understand completely, your terms are more than reasonable Crick. As it so happens I do have a reasonable location to house our friend well outside the city. As to his assured safe keeping, if there is anyone who wishes to assist in looking after him I welcome the help. After all Ms. Dunsirn is right this concerns all of us. But I am also reasonably sure he would cooperate. After all it's in his best interests."

She glances around the crowd. Not entirely expecting volunteers but not rejecting the idea outright. It was a foolish vampire who assumed they could do everything on their own. It was a good way to end up burnt or staked or surrounded by other vampires with an irate gargoyle digging into you. Besides having to manage everything yourself could be exceedingly tiring.

[Arilus]

As Aislinn worked her sorcery, her face betrays visible surprise for a fraction of a second. She wiped her hand before replacing the glove, conspicuously electing not to lick the vitae from her finger. After her mind had finally fully regained its composure, she experienced the mild euphoria of connections forming meaning from available data. Suddenly all of the Samedi's confusing decisions during the assassination made sense. Now he only needed to proffer one more answer to satisfy the Tremere's curiosity.

But first, she listened to Marie's speech seeking clemency for the Stiff. Was the Toreador truly so naïve and...human? Such attitudes, whilst disappointing, were also useful. Unsophisticated minds were always easier to manipulate. Though they also must be preserved, as despite their ignorance they were also far removed from the Beast. Drishti's teachings had turned her into a dichotomously disdainful and admiring gardener.

Although she rejected Marie's logic, perhaps the Degenerate had a point, however. If Aislinn could manage to turn the supernatural assassin into a reliable asset, she could make ample use of his talents. And he should be considerably more sane if she could purge his contaminated stores of vitae in exchange for cooler fare. He could not, by any means, be allowed to roam free yet. That would be non-negotiable. He could not be permitted to harm any non-destructive kine as a result of his freelancing. And Aislinn certainly did not trust Marie's ability to keep this one contained on her own.

"Fair enough," she conceded to Ainsley's explanation, albeit secretly disingenuously. Aislinn could not help but suspect that every sentence the Giovanni uttered was a half-truth. But what else could she expect from an accomplished Kindred? After all, Aislinn herself commonly employed precisely the same tactic the Necromancer was likely exploiting.

"Well, I have to admit I find this cadaver amusing," she began after Marie continued her appeal, walking around with a hand to her mouth and eyes travelling up and down the Stiff as if considering the Samedi. But then again, a lot of the Kindred present seemed to be staring at Marie the way many men (and the occasional woman) gawked at her. Sure, the Toreador is quite pretty, but...oh! She may have vampirically beguiled them when Aislinn's mind was elsewhere, as some clans are wont to do. But the crowd fawning over Marie would not affect the plan hatching in Aislinn's head, so she cut her musing on the Discipline short as there was business to attend to.

"I could devise a way to put a thaumaturgical leash on him to ensure he stays out of trouble. And he now has an incentive to cooperate, now that he's publicly ratted all he knows of his employers. Isn't that right?" she punctuated the last taunt with a charming smile aimed at the Samedi, though the context left its meaning transparent. "So I can contribute Tremere resources to help with his confinement. That is, if you tell us where and how you came into contact with Lupine blood." Her tone shift dramatically from a teasing and mellifluous lilt to a duplication of the modulation from her earlier mandate. Though supernatural methods were probably superfluous given his compliance so far coupled with the resignation she had abduced, one could never have too much insurance.

Mesmerize: [roll0] @ difficulty opposed Willpower − 2

Aww, another probable failure. It had to happen eventually. At least I can hope Aislinn's analysis that Dominate was excessive and he would be forthcoming anyways was right. Unless his current Willpower points are ≤ 5, then it actually manages to succeed.

[RedSand]

There is a bit of shuffling around in the crowd. Eyes turn left and right as people wait for volunteers on Maria's cue.

Mrs. Bradley, who'd been in the background before now, spoke. "Levar, we do have a few stowaways outside the city. We can jail the little rotting brute."
"Well, now that you've mentioned it, we definitely could. However, neither of us are guards, and what ghouls we have I will not risk on such a venture."
"We could get one of the Panders to guard him. They're pretty hard-nosed." one of the Toreador posit.
"Yes, dear, but they're none too bright and can be bought by whoever comes looking for him."


The Gargoyle followed. "This is an unnecessary debate. He's already restrained here, in my haven. For a tithe, I will guard him for many weeks."
"A fair request, but that makes you a mercenary, like the Panders, and therefore unable to be trusted."
"It makes me not a slave, Carrier."

It's at this point that Aislinn attempts to dominate the Samedi. Her accusations of him feeding on Lupine blood go over with the crowd as well as expected. The pity Maria instilled in them remains, but an edge to it develops-a few more whispers wash over the room, this time to the tune "How crazy is he?" "Where has he come from?" "What is this guy's deal?".

The Samedi looks as confused as ever. He strains and picks over the question in his mind. "I...didn't, I don't...what? I haven't fed in two days. I sneaked into the trunk of a taxi cab, and almost drained the driver and his passengers. They didn't fight like a wolf, and I've seen wolves. I mean...I think they tasted really good. I didn't even mean to drain 'em, they just tasted too good to waste. I thought they just had a lot of coke in their veins or something."

He spends another good second thinking, his face contorting and his eyes staring down the ceiling. His brow furrows, unfurrows, and furrows again, this time a bit angrily. "No. That's ****ing nuts. There's jprobably LSD or some **** in my veins. That's probably why I went nuts on those guys. No one I've fed on in...ever could be a Moon-Beast. That's ridiculous."

[roll0] Charisma+Expression, difficulty 7.
EDIT: That is not good enough. He doesn't make things worse for himself(yet), but he definitely does not convince anyone he's not crazy/a threat.

[Raine_Sage]

Marie shoots Aislinn a somewhat dirty look. Yes announce it to the whole room why don't you, that can only make things better. The Tremere didn't seem hostile or actively trying to sabotage anything, Marie could only conclude apathy or perhaps they simply lacked tact. Either way she addressed the crowd once more.

"Well that is certainly...new information I will admit. But this man was resigned to death but a few moments ago. He'd accepted his judgement, he didn't even try to fight back while our dear gargoyle friend was, ahem, making sure he didn't move. If he was too far gone I doubt he'd have accepted our judgement so passively. We've barely had to restrain him as is." she reasoned. "Despite the seriousness of his situation he has been remarkably well behaved." she didn't point out that for the majority of the evening he'd been staked and immobile, it was a minor detail really. Hardly worth bringing up.

[roll0]

[OneCalledBlue]

Laure interjects, this time louder and more clear with no additional theatrics. "Which words matter in their recent passing? The words of Marie still hang in the air, resolute and as poignant as they always were. The change from fresh discovery, only matters if it's origins are proof of innocence."

[Arilus]

Aislinn was perplexed at the Samedi's response; he seemed to genuinely believe his words. Yet the probability of a random cabbie and passangers having some Lupine blood in their veins is negligible. And if one was a Wolf, it should have had much more vitae in its body. Besides, she doubted the Stiff could've overpowered a bloody Lupine. The sods have reputation for physical dominance over practically any Kindred.

The only explanation that makes any sense is that the Samedi's mind was tampered with. But, as far as Aislinn is aware, Lupines cannot reprogram memories outside of the delusional terror mortal witnesses experience. If her inference is correct, then that means he was deliberately dosed. Whilst the blood in question could distort perceptions on its own, that doesn‘t explain how he ingested it in the first place.

So, her working hypothesis is that someone who can modify memories dosed him with Lupine blood and turned him loose on the Senator. Which means he's likely a pawn of one or more conspiracies that Aislinn knows next-to-nothing about. Now that her curiosity is piqued, the only motivation that ever actually makes her want to do anything, she has even more reason to get the Samedi remanded into Marie's custody and to insert herself into the security measures where she has unrestricted access to the sole resource available in unravelling this puzzle. The Gargoyle doesn't seem like the sort to let her do whatever she wants with a prisoner, nor the type to be easily manipulated. Especially given how most free Slaves feel about their former and only true masters.

"I, for one, would prefer the prisoner remain with one whose motive is conviction rather than avarice." Seeing the effect Marie has on many of those present, Aislinn was confident the Toreador could win the debate, especially with the support of the same Kindred who accused the Stiff of imbibing werewolf blood. Her attention was actually devoted to determining who she could turn to for assistance in restoring the Samedi's memories. Assuming her postulates are valid and she's not chasing a red herring, obviously.

[RedSand]

Maria's speech does much to counter an of unease and confusion among the crowd. Her first appeal had done well, and as her words rang true a second time; this time, however, it was an audience confused and uneasy and pitying the poor little murderer before them. Inquisitive looks paint the face of the room, asking "are we done here?"

The gargoyle(Higgins?) growled at Aislinn's remark. "A warden is paid. An innkeeper is paid. A wetnurse is paid. However I am to keep it contained, I will not have my abilities be disrespected. He will not escape me if I am to guard him. Do not tell me I should house him as a guest; he has earned none of my hospitality and will receive none."

Fern coughs, a bit awkwardly, and tries her best to interject. "Regardless, about the, uh, Lupine comment; the claws and teeth of a Lupine cause damage as difficult to heal as that of a fire or the sun, much like a gangrel's, and they themselves can take massive amounts of punishment. If he was strong enough to feed off of one and live, we most likely would have never caught him. Unless you used some trick, Ms. Dunsirn."

"He was tackled, held down and staked. It took several tries to get in all the way; he does have his share of Fortitude, and it's possible he could have sneaked up on one and riddled it with silver bullets. But we found no silver rounds on him, and I can't imagine even him being stupid enough to go after a Lupine purely for sustenance." She gave him a good hard look. "For now, I think it is much more prudent to keep him alive and guarded. How many formally support this juncture?"

The Toreador pledge their support, as do several miscellaneous Kindred, the Setites, the Bradleys and at that point the action was well and sealed.
"Well, then. I propose it is best to keep him here, staked, should anyone wish to see or revive him. He is, again, our prisoner. And before you frenzy, Higgins,if he's kept here you will receive payment."

[Arilus]

"Works for me," Aislinn agrees, ignoring the bristling from Higgins. The key phrase that led to her compliance was "should anyone wish to see or revive him," as well as Ainsley implying she would pay the Gargoyle his due herself. It would interfere with the tentative plot to turn the Samedi to a personal agent, but she should still be able to attempt to restore his memories under Higgins's watch. The latter was of far greater immediate importance to Aislinn.

[RedSand]

Miss Dunsirn doesn't wait to see if anyone else has objections. She grabs the Samedi by the shoulders and quite easily presses him down, as Higgins grips his legs together and holds him prostrate. A ghoul thrusts a stake into his chest-it fractures, but lodges into him, and Miss Dunsirn gives it a dramatic stomp that puts a thin twig through his heart and turns the rest of his torso into a parade of splinters. She wipes a bit of imaginary dust off her hands and smiles as a good deal of the crowd looks at her a bit frightened. "Anyway. Higgins?"

"I want kine, to be ghouled. At least two-more if I have to guard him for longer than six weeks-and they'll need to be of good genetic stock and wealth-I myself could just pick anyone up off the street."

Mr. Bradley steps in. "We'll foot the bill here-or the recruitment, I suppose. We promised we would help shelter him, and we will. I assume you'll still provide a guard detail, Miss Dunsirn."

She nods at him, and calls the Court to a close. She steps outside, followed by her beast and several thinbloods looking to get a word in edgewise. Most of the court follows her out, intent on returning to their havens before sunrise, though there's still plenty of time if one need grab someone by the shoulder. Otherwise...

The scene is mostly over. You mingled a bit, gathered information, nearly got into a fight with a City Gangrel and interrogated a necrotic assassin. For all this, you may reward yourself 4 xp!