# [VtR][Mature] Born into Darkness: Preludes and Nocturnes



## Graf (Dec 10, 2007)

This is the Prelude Thread for the Vampire: the Requiem: Born into Darkness Game.

The Mature tag means that some stuff here may include mature themes. 
(It's a game about Vampires... I dunno what to say about that really but.... Reader Discretion is advised I suppose.)

Disclaimer
Some horrible characters with probably show up in this game. I've made an effort to make them realistic; so some of them are appalling people with positive characteristics. Please don't take anything a character does or says as something that I endorse.

[sblock=Prelude Disclaimer (for the players)]
Preludes: relatively little control over the content of the preludes. It's an opportunity for me to 1) help round out your character motivation 2) introduce you to the tone of the game 3) introduce major npcs (at least the ones who will appear in the first arc) 4)  provide you with useful information (some of it will be useful in the form of "actionable intelligence" most of it is just background detail).
I'm sure someone will turn what I thought was a background detail into actionable intelligence.

Some people will have tougher preludes than other people. I've given some thought to it, but, there's no way to really address that beyond to day that some people aren't as lucky as other are. However I assure you that everyone will start the game off at roughly the same position as everyone else.
Some preludes will have a degree of interactivity. Some people will have some combat, some won't. Of course some people won't get preludes at all. I apologize for the lapses that you may feel occur, and simply must assure you that, however flawed you feel the process is, I assure you that I'm trying to do the best to get the game up and runnings as quickly and as smoothly as possible.

I do want to stress something about the preludes
Stuff you don't expect to happen could happen
The degree of interactively will be low in many cases
Some people will have no choices
Some people may have lots of choices but they all suck
Some people may have lots of fun choices
You may run into (be inflicted with) NPCs abusively using powers backed by buckets of dice to abuse you*
You may run into (be inflicted with) aggravating and/or inescapable situations
You may be trapped with scenery chewing NPCs in situations where you don't have center stage

I assure you that this is not indicative of the way the game will work -once- it's started. The PCs will be center stage, you will given a degree of freedom (which will increase relatively quickly), etc. etc.
You may run into some cut scenes as NPCs interact as the game evolves but I will try to keep them breif and non-intrusive.


*=to a certain degree, of course, powerful NPCs will always be around. And running afoul with them is always a possibility. Having a few experiences like that in the prelude (where I have more command of the action) seems like a fair way to let you see what that's like.[/sblock]


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## Graf (Dec 10, 2007)

[sblock=Blood's Request]
- Running combat would be fun since I have no idea how to do it. 
- No autopilot and No glossing
[/sblock]


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## Graf (Dec 10, 2007)

*Cole's Prelude 1*

Everything comes back in a rush of pain and fire. You're drinking lava, it runs through your veins, scouring your body. In the wake of scouring pain comes a return of awareness. You can feel your body again. You bring your hands to your face, they're withered. Your skin is pale, like marble; your whole body seems to be made of wrinkled pale marble.

[sblock=Condition]
You've got 4 blood points; you're _hungry_. You've used the rest to reflexively heal. You still have 4 boxes filled with lethal damage: reflecting your body's withered state.
You have 2 Willpower points.

Your memories prior to the embrace are very blurry, and what can dredge up is unclear, muddled and bafflingly contradictory. You remember your sire and some details of your embrace but after that things get weird. You remember being in Egypt, in Cairo; adjusting to your unlife; trying to protect some business interests; meeting with your partners (in daylight!); an attack, first by a man with a gun and then by some kind of bazaar dog-men with knives.[/sblock]

You are in a small windowless room, like an office. The room is dimly lit, with wooden walls on all sides, showing no hint of the time of night (or day). It's cool, the room is dry. You know you're not in Egypt anymore. Egypt's never this cool.

Your lying on your back on a long low wooden table. Your eyes are drawn to a distinguished looking white man with receding blond hair sitting behind a desk. You feel a sense of affection for him (Vinculum 1).  He's also a vampire, and your beast roars feebly in your breast.
Other than the man behind the desk you see two other people. An attractive, pale skinned woman in a long green dress regards you. Your eyes lock, your beast snarls again. There is a pudgy Indian man is sitting in a chair by the door. His hands are clasped. As his eyes meet yours he smiles warmly, revealing fangs.

None of the three people say anything, they just watch you. You can taste blood on your lips, and smell it around you. Next to you, on the table is a large silver dish, filled with blood. The sight of the blood overcomes you, heedless of anything else you pull it to your face. 

The sound of your frenzied slurping fills the otherwise silent room. 

Eventually the bowl is emptied, with an act of will you manage to control yourself and set the disk down without giving in to the desire to lick it clean.

[sblock=Frenzy Checks]
Invisible Castle is acting up. I gave you the three predator's frenzy checks, so you didn't fly into Rötschreck and run around the room like a spaz when you saw the other three vampires. But I had Cole flub your Wassail (hunger frenzy) check, you were forced to immediately drink all the blood (your Vice makes it more justifiable -- and four successful rolls was a bit improbable). Since you're pretty savvy we'll say you managed to get control of the frenzy when you finished off most of the blood.[/slbock]

[sblock=Condition]
You've got 6 blood points; you're no longer _hungry_. You've used one to heal another lethal wound. You still have 3 boxes filled with lethal damage reflecting your body's withered state.[/sblock]

The big man stands by the desk now he's tall with oversized hands; his face is dominated by a huge nose giving him a birdlike mien. His voice is deep, and agreeable "Ah have to admit, you're the first mummy Ah've met. And a white fellow at that. Didn't know they made white mummies." The man's presence is overwhelming, for a moment it seems as if the room almost bends, like he's the central figure in some religious painting lines in the room point directly at the saint's head.

[sblock=LB Awe v Cole]
You've been _awed by the man__. With his four successes he's going to be rolling a total of 15 dice against you in social checks.  Just so you know.[/sblock]

His paw like hands punctuate his speech. "Ah'm Lucias, Lucias Bancroft. You can call me LB," He has a strong southern accent, he draws out his initials so that it sounds like he's saying "eell bee". He sweeps out a big arm catching you by the shoulder and guiding you toward one wood-paneled wall. "Ah suppose we could try to do this slow. But ah figure that it's better to just give it to you straight." He taps something on the wall, with a thrumming sound the wall rises. Beyond the wall is a window.

You've seen pictures of the future; futurists tossing improbable visions about. You've known people who sneered about the improbably of the photos shown at the Brazilian expo around the 1900s. In front of you what can only be buildings shoot up like pillars. You realize you must be in one of those pillars, starting out over a canyon made entirely by the hands of man. Across from you, something, an oval body under whirring blades takes off, floating lazily through the sky.

"Welcome, sir, to the ____ing future."

When you manage to tear your gaze away from the window you find LB smiling genially at you his long arm encircling your shoulders, "So, tell me a bit about yourself, mah friend."_


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## Bloodweaver1 (Dec 10, 2007)

*Cole Braddock*

_Jesus Mary Ann Flipping Christ! You really did it this time buddy! What in the nine hells happened?? I’m not dreaming again.. am I?_

It takes quite a few minutes for Cole to finally let everything sink in, and even then he still does not believe it. He passes his wrinkled hand through his shaggy hair and gives his excavators a scruffy grin. His eyes linger on the female vampire bit longer than normal before returning his attention back to LB. In a dry and horse voice he says, “Well I would tell you my name, but I would imagine you already know that. I would also tell you what my profession is and what I ‘think’ I was doing in Cairo, but again you probably already know that too.” He gives a small pause before continuing. “Don’t get me wrong I am quite grateful for the excavation and I would be tell’n you anything that you want to know. But it would be a wee bit quicker if you just asked me directly.”


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## Graf (Dec 11, 2007)

*Cole's Prelude 2*

LB's voice remains strong, and profoundly persuasive. His thick accented cadence rolls over the room. The arm around your shoulders is somewhere between a friendly hug and a headlock.
"Mah Friend, ah am afraid that ah don't know you from Adam. Mah normal policy regarding uninvited visitors in mah city involves torpah and concrete. Howevah," the big man's genial smile reveals very long fangs "given that you might notta come heah under your own powah I have decided to wake you up an' give you an oppahtunity to explain youh self."

"Ah'd be obliged if you got started with that so's Ah don't have to make some sort of unpleasant decision."[sblock=LB Revelation v Cole]
LB has used _revelation_ against you generating an exceptional success (6 successes). You feel compelled to be amazingly honest with him, _revealing everything about yourself_. It's a _supernatural compulsion_, with his exceptional success you can't spend Willpower to resist.[/sblock]


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## Graf (Dec 11, 2007)

*Beth's Prelude 1*

Beth's walking down the street, it's cool for summer. Brisk enough that that she's got your long sweater on. It's a bit too late to be out, but things have been particularly bad at home. She's approaching a corner when one of those cheap rentals, where the name of the car rental company is plastered all over the side, rolls to a stop in front of her. Just stopped on the crosswalk.

The guy driving catches your eye, _stop_ he says.

[sblock=WJ's Command]
Beth is compelled to  [http://invisiblecastle.com/find.py?id=1418890]remain in place[/url] (a reasonably obvious interpretation of the word stop. WJ got only one success, but Beth got zero, which is enough for him to enforce his _command_[/url]. [/sblock]

Beth does, reflexively, without thinking about it. The guy is older than she is, but still young, maybe in his 20s. White. Close cropped hair. He's got to be some sort of urban primitive, beads and bones, probably a dozen or more are pierced through different parts of his face. He's holding some sort of hollow tube, like a reed.

_stand there. don't do anything. don't speak or make any sound, unless I ask you a question. answer normally. when I open the car door you get in and sit quietly._ His voice has a funny cadence to it. He doesn't begin or end his sentences properly. is anyone waiting for you?

"Nnnn," Beth hears herself say. She feels herself pushing back, like there's some weight pushing against on her forehead and she's pushing against it.

[sblock=WJ's Mesmerize]
Beth has some success resisting the WJ's Mesmerize but not enough.[/sblock]

"No," Beth hears herself say.

The man seems satisfied about something.will anyone miss you if you disappear for a few hours?

"No," Beth hears her own, voice, dominated by fear. She'd like very much to scream. But she can't.

He nods and pushes the car door open.

[sblock=Beth's Moral Code]
Per Mesmerize (a power from the Dominate Discipline) a character who is ordered to violate their own moral code can reflexively try to resist. Would getting into the car violate Beth's moral code?[/sblock]


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## industrygothica (Dec 11, 2007)

Graf said:
			
		

> [sblock=Beth's Moral Code]
> Per Mesmerize (a power from the Dominate Discipline) a character who is ordered to violate their own moral code can reflexively try to resist. Would getting into the car violate Beth's moral code?[/sblock]



[sblock=re: moral code]Not only would getting into the car _not_ violate her moral code, but it would most assuredly satisfy her vice (lust) for thrill-seeking behavior. I think that instinctively she'd know better, but through force-of-will she'd blow off the common sense factor and go for it.[/sblock]


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## Bloodweaver1 (Dec 11, 2007)

*Cole Braddock*

“Hmm well since you put it that way….” Says Cole in a delightful but yet sarcastic tone. Running his hand through his hair he tries his best to sort through the chaotic mess that is now his memory. With a deep breath and a slow exhale he says, “The names Braddock, Cole Braddock. And as far as what I am doing here, well that’s a good question. I’m still trying to figure that part out. 

Lets see, I think it was Janurary of 1943 and German intelligence had just intercepted a transmission mentioning something about ‘Fortitude and Body Guard’. Can’t remember exactly what it was but I do know that it got all the Generals in a frenzy screaming for supplies. Which for me, meant good business.” He says before filling his lungs with a rejected small sigh. “Rather, was good business.” He leans his back against his tomb and lets his eyes dance across his audience. “Everything seemed business as usual. Was contacted on the usual channels with everything happening the way it should. Except for the order. Whatever the Generals were expecting, it was big. I mean really big. This order was the kind order that you could retire from, that is if you got the nuts to pull it off. So I did what any good business man would do. I pulled in all my favors, spent almost my entire cash flow and I filled the order. I managed to get over 100K tons of raw munitions and supplies. That wasn’t easy you know. You have no idea what I had to do in order to acquire and then hide that kind of merchandise. We’re not just talking about rifles and ammo here. We had two dozen soviet tanks with gas, 10 tons in allied weapons alone plus enough explosives to level half of Paris. And that’s just the tip of it.” A Small confident smirk scrolls across his face as he lays out the foundations of his little operation. He is not the type of man to brag or even give away his secrets, but hell he’s 70 years in the future and it is not that often he has the opportunity to tell such a grand story. “Well anyway, we secured transportation on three large cargo ships, heading from Ciaro to a port in France. Later they were going to be convoyed to beach head in the North West of France. A place called Normandy, I think.” He instinctively scratches his chin as he pauses in his story. After a few seconds pass before he moves his hand back down to his waist and continues with his tale. “Not sure why though, all of the coded transmissions where talking about places to the North East or to the South. But hey I’m no tactician. On the night that the ships were suppose leave port my mentor and I were double checking the merchandise when I think we were attack. The next thing I remember is dragging my wrinkled corpse out of this here box.”


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## Graf (Dec 12, 2007)

*Cole's Prelude 3*

LB's eyes burrow into Cole as he continues his story. Claw-like fingers dig into his shoulder.

When Cole comes to the part about the box he glances back at the box on the floor. "Nothing else huh? Since Dubya Dubya Two?" He shifts his gaze back to the two other people in the room.

[sblock=Cole's Read]Cole can't seem to get a decent read on the situation.[/sblock]

"Well. Well. We got ahselves a genuine Rip Van Winkle type situation then. You've given it to me straight an' ah appreciate that sort of candor. Ain't a whole lotta folks'd admit they was buddies with Hitler. You got guts. Ah can appreciate a vampiah with some grit."

LB suddenly releases you and walks back to his desk. Flopping down in his chair he brings his big cowboy boots down on the desk with a resounding boom.

"Let me fill you in on what you've missed. We beat up the Germans. No thanks to youh," he gives you a conspiratorial wink. "Then the Japs jumped us and we beat them up too. The Ruskies got a bit uppity but Reagan took care of them. So America's still number one."

The woman in the silk dress makes an irritated "tch" sound, as she looks at her long, claw-like nails. She's caucasian but the flawless pale skin, bright red hair and the long green dress combine to give her an exotic air.

LB looks at her "Broad strokes, baby, broad strokes. ah'm just giving him the essential parts. He ain't no idjut. He knows more stuff's happened."


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## Graf (Dec 12, 2007)

*Beth's Prelude 2*



			
				industrygothica said:
			
		

> [sblock=re: moral code]Not only would getting into the car _not_ violate her moral code, but it would most assuredly satisfy her vice (lust) for thrill-seeking behavior. I think that instinctively she'd know better, but through force-of-will she'd blow off the common sense factor and go for it.[/sblock]



Beth slides into the car. On the sidewalk behind her she sees an old woman looking at her disapprovingly.

The man shifts into gear and the car eases away from the curb.

very lucky. you'll be experiencing something special tonight

Beth wants to say something but realizes she can't. The words _sit quietly_ writhe in her mind like a snake.

<<End Beth's Prelude>>​


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## Graf (Dec 12, 2007)

*Biggs' Prelude 1*

Biggs leans back against the wall in the gloom of the strip mall. Just like the man said, doors in the rear section behind the no-name franchise burger joint were busted. Easy to get in. He could hear the chanting ahead. From the storage area. Right where the source said it would be. The moaning and shrieking competes with the the loud sound the the guard's TV.
If the man would just turn off his TV Bigg's might have a bit of help on this one.

He glanced down a the typed sheet of paper. It's just a scrap of some larger report. Parts of it are blacked out. What's left reads:

Name: William Jefferson
Status: AWOL
Summary: Completed training Camp Pendleton (1960). Member of K-group; seconded to CIA 1965-68. Disappeared from Khe San, January 30th, 1968. Proficient in Vietnamese, other local dialects. Involved in <several lines of text have been completely blacked out>. Judged effective, erratic. Requested for K-group by <blanked out>. File tagged and pulled after possible sighting in Pailin, Cambodia 1975. Refer to <blanked out> and <blanked out> in Pailin (1974-77).

Rational for Tag: <blanked out sentence>. <blanked out sentence>. Also Jefferson's reported apparent age abnormally low; given known information odds of having had children (i.e. a son) are judged low.
Priority: F4 (low)
Recommendation: Include in <blank> to <blank>. Detain if attempts territorial entry.
​Biggs looks a the paper again. It could be b___s___. Anybody could have written it.
He remembers the words of his source: "He's a servant. He fetches and carries and kills for them. They've given him power and eternal life; in exchange for the most horrible of blasphemies. Now he's in this city." 

Biggs' watch reads 23:37 |September 22nd.
Up ahead he hears the chanting rise a notch.


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## Graf (Dec 12, 2007)

*Archer's Prelude*

It's the second night of the rest of Judas' life. He woke up to the sound of the gunshot again. His throat was bleeding again. Celeste was there to greet you, smiling and radiant. Judas' was still a bit pretty mad at the ghoul for having been so trigger happy when he awoke, but after drinking Celeste's blood he realized that if he hadn't been shot he might not be with this beautiful woman now. He was surprised by how comforting that thought was.

She's away tonight, "just for a bit" she said. "Stay inside. Adjust. I have some things to take care of; to make things easy for you."

Archer would normally be a bit upset. Yesterday you spent most of the evening discussing yourself. She "needed to know things" to "smooth your transition into the new society". It made sense that she'd want to know things. She seemed to have an unearthly grasp of what Archer was talking about. Thinking about it now she avoided pressuring him about things he didn't want to discuss with tremendous aplomb.

Archer would normally have been a bit upset because tonight she promised that you'd discuss your new state, what was going on. But she begged of with a radiant smile, and Archer had realized that seeing her smile meant a lot to him.

Now she was gone though and he was sitting in her penthouse. Spare modern furniture, and abstract art fill the sumptuous space. In the outer area (the "servants quarters" as Celeste calls it) you can hear Frank bumping around in the kitchen.


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## Festy_Dog (Dec 12, 2007)

Judas Archer cleared his throat, and a faint taste of blood settled in his mouth. Listening to Frank in the kitchen made him wonder if he should try eating anything again. Maybe if the food was strongly flavoured enough it wouldn't just taste like ash. To be honest he just assumed the taste was ash, kinda the same way people assume to know the flavour of bodily wastes. 

Regardless, he decided he would start with the spicy stuff, assuming there was any there. Frank was the only one who actually used the kitchen regularly anyway, being the only one who ate. He seemed to be a decent cook too, as far as how the food looks and smells is concerned. Archer wasn't in a condition to go out and buy some food, or 'research materials', himself so he had to obtain some of Frank's, preferably through negoatiation. Not to say that he wouldn't just throw it all up later if he ate, he just wanted to taste something again other than blood. Anything.

He hated dealing with Frank though. Trying to draw any kind of friendliness or humour from him was like squeezing blood from a stone. A smile touched his lips, it was a funny analogy in the context of the present. He was tempted to simply turn on the television and wait for Celeste to get back so that he could continue asking questions about about every aspect of the living dead he could think of. He knew he had to limit himself though, he didn't want to come across like a curious toddler. Barraging one's seniors with questions quickly removes you from their favour.

Archer realized he was distracting himself. He had some spare time so he had to use it well. Further research into the vampiric condition was warranted, obstacles be damned. If he had to share the kitchen with Frank so be it. He'd wear down Frank's attitude as water erodes stone. Gradually. Archer knew patience when it was required.

He stood up and checked his reflection in the window. The wound in his neck wasn't healing up properly, and it weeped and oozed now and then. The entry wound was small, and more or less closed. The exit wound was not so simple. The bullet had broken into three pieces and left things a mess. 

One of the first things Celeste had taught him was how to close his own wounds. The process was still foreign. Judas had followed her instructions, and the wound stitched itself back together to an extent, enabling him to speak and feed and whatnot without difficulty, but it wouldn't go beyond the point it was at now. Expending more blood on it would simply make the injury bleed. He felt like he was doing something wrong. He couldn't go into public until he had determined a solution, society tends to frown upon such inconsistencies as a severely injured man strolling about nonchalantly. Again, that could wait. Now? There were experiments to be conducted.

He took one more look at the new, deader Judas, and adopted a movie-style, dramatic tone of voice, "You've died the way you wanted to. A bullet. Now, you must live with the concequences," he chuckled and proceeded towards the kitchen. It was time to see if Frank was willing to share.


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## WarShrike (Dec 12, 2007)

_"Great, just great. I get to dust this guy during choir practice. I can just picture myself chopping this Ghoul limb from limb, while his buddies dance the macarena"_ thinks Biggs, with biting sarcasm. He was in a foul mood. He wasn't too happy with his "source". _"A$$hole thinks he's deepthroat from the X-Files. Thinks he can just gimme hints, bits n pieces, and just figure it out myself as i run around his little rat maze. When this job is done, me an him is gonna have a sit down."_

Biggs slinks slowly towards the chanting, keeping an eye on the guard. Human or no, if he was working for *them*, he was expendable.


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## Bloodweaver1 (Dec 12, 2007)

*Cole Braddock*

Cole simply shrugs as the Prince lays out the brief details of the end of the war with his typical American cowboy attitude. “Ehh.” He replies simply, “Just as well could have played with the Allies. The Germans got a hold of me fist.” His eyes slowly trace over the form of the exotic women as the Prince and her trade barbs. _Man… haven’t had a women in … well in over 70 years... Wow._ He quickly removes his warm stare from the women as a he chuckles to himself at the thought of his exceptionally long dry spell. 

He gives the Prince a polite nod and says, “I appreciate the complement. If I may be so bold, it is not a far reach to conclude that I was entombed for a reason. Turning me into ash would have been a much straightforward and obviously less cumbersome course of action. One could also state, with a fair amount of certainty that, that the very same reason is, either in part or in full, the reason why I am standing here today."


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## Graf (Dec 13, 2007)

*Cole's Prelude 4*



			
				Bloodweaver1 said:
			
		

> [Cole's]eyes slowly trace over the form of the exotic women as the Prince and her trade barbs.  He quickly removes his warm stare from the women as a he chuckles...



The woman responds to Cole's examination with an unreadable look, absently running a long nail along her chin.



			
				Bloodweaver1 said:
			
		

> “One could also state, with a fair amount of certainty that, that the very same reason is, either in part or in full, the reason why I am standing here today."



LB, smiles broadly and gestures at Cole with a chopping motion. "See. The fellow's been up 5 minutes and already he's thinking!"

He grabs a newspaper off his desk and launches across the room. That sah is how I came to know of your presence in mah city.

Cole manages to snag the paper from the air. An article in the lower left hand corner article of the Local Section of the City Post reads

*"Mummy" discovered in spice shipment*
Officials have confirmed that a mummified human body was discovered in a shipment of spices from Brazil. The individual was apparently a white male; due to the method of preservation age has not been determined. The company label included in the crate, Gkao Golden Spice, does not belong to any listed company in the area.
Authorities were not able to provide further details about how the body appeared in the crate at this time or whether foul play was involved.​


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## Graf (Dec 13, 2007)

*Bigg's Prelude 2*

Biggs eases his way down dimly lit corridor mall. Up ahead, off in the distance he can see the night watchman's desk, which is normally an information desk during the day. As small black and white TV loudly extols the virtues of the Thigh Master. The watchman is slumped over, fast asleep. 

As Biggs sees no signs of any guards at he approaches chanting. There used to be a department store in this section of the mall, but it looks to be shuttered now. An access corridor to the department stores storage facility is to his right and he can make out two... no one voice. He doesn't have an idea about what the Jefferson guy is moaning about but the sound sends shivers down his spine.

At the end of the corridor the door is closed but Biggs can make out thick electricians tape keeping the latch open. Putting his ear to the door he can clearly make out the chanting beyond.


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## Graf (Dec 13, 2007)

*Archer's Prelude 2*

Archer passes through the heavy double doors connecting the haven to the rest of the apartment. Celeste's "apartment" is more like a conventional house, located in one of most tony buildings in the city, is more like a house than an apartment. In front of him is the foyer and the elevator.

Archer can hear the sound of something grilling from the servant's quarters to the left. Frank pops his head out of the doorway "Sir?" his tone is formal but nothing approaching pleasantness seems to touch his face. The man is getting on in years, with thinning hair and a paunch.

"Eat sir? We do have a little bit of blood in the refrigerator. "Oh? You mean you want to try to eat some food? I assure you it's not such a pleasant experience. Still I have some steak cooking. Perhaps a bite?"

The ghoul guides Archer into the little kitchen. The steak is grilled over what look like roots. There is a small wooden table in the room and several doors beyond that probably lead to a bathroom, the wine cellar and Frank's bedroom respectively.

As he sits down in the proffered chair Archer notes a pump action shotgun  tucked into an open cabinet by the door.


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## Bloodweaver1 (Dec 13, 2007)

*Cole Braddock*

“So we have a ghost company whom went to extreme lengths to make sure that a 70 year old sleeping smuggler is hidden from the rest of the world until now. Which makes no sense, I mean it’s not like I am the Prince of Darkness or something.” He says and then thinks to himself, _Gkao Golden Spice is my only lead… but do I even want to know… _  

“So what’s next? I take it you that you have a job for me, no?” He says with an expecting look. “Don’t get me wrong, but it’s uncharacteristic of ‘us’ to do things charitable.”


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## Graf (Dec 13, 2007)

*Cole's Prelude 5*

LB looks surprised for a moment. Cole can't tell whether it's genuine or not.

"To be honest Ah woke you up mostly because killing you out of hand offended my highly developed sense a' justice. But Ah did want to know who brought youh intah mah city and that question has not been answered to mah satisfaction yet. So ah will offer you a job, ah suppose. Find out who's pulling hijinks and youh ah free to go."

The woman next to him makes an ahem sound and looks pointedly at LB.

Oh, right right. He makes a dismissive gesture. Ah you part of any covenant mah friend?
He leans across the desk and puts his hand up to the side of his like he's just saying something to you, "Some folks take this stuff reealll serious," he booms across the room in a false whisper.


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## Festy_Dog (Dec 13, 2007)

Archer gave the shotgun a second glance, trying to determine its make. Sometimes they tended to look similar from a distance, but he wasn't about to go over and grab someone else's gun. Huge no-no. Mossberg? Probably. Maybe. He decided to ask Frank when the time was right.

The steak smelled good, but it wasn't quite right. The smell appealed to him intellectually, or rather, to his memory of what good steak smelled like. There was no actual compulsion to eat it. It worried him.

"Don't worry about wasting your steak on me, Frank. I learned last night about wasting good food on the dead. Not pretty. There wouldn't happen to be any tobasco sauce around here would there? Chilies? Chili sauce? Lemons? Garlic? I'm looking for the most powerful things I can stuff down my throat- wait, is garlic a problem for me?" Archer coughed, and withdrew a tissue from his pocket to clean the blood off his lips.


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## WarShrike (Dec 13, 2007)

Supressing his dislike of the moaning voice, Biggs moves in it's direction. If it's one of _them_, he can't risk letting it get between him and his exit route.


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## Graf (Dec 13, 2007)

*Archer's Prelude 3*

Wedged back in the pantry it was hard to make out the gun clearly, but it looked well worn.  Slight discoloration on the handle suggested someone had held in a sweaty grip more than once.

Oh. Well if you feel that way sir. Archer thinks that Frank looked genuinely disappointed.

Garlic?" Frank chuckles aimably "Not that I'm aware of. I've heard about ah, unstable Kindred who sometimes develop a psycological reaction, but nothing physical."

"Something strong... sir?" He picks up one of the roots he's been using in his cooking. It looks pickled, a lot like kimuchi. "This has quite a kick to it. You can absorb it with a bit of effort I think." 

As he holds it in front of his nose Archer doesn't smell anything.

"Ah, breathing sir might be a suggestion. So you can smell. I'm afraid that will take a bit of thought now; won't happen naturally anymore."

Archer notes the ghoul is right; he hadn't been breathing. As he takes an experimental wiff his nose is assaulted by the smell of something like ginger, but with a pungent acrid flavor.


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## Graf (Dec 13, 2007)

*Bigg's Prelude 3*

Biggs leans against the door. He knows the ghoul is close. Sliding a sword from it's sheath and pushes the door open. Mercifully the there is no creeking sound.

The room inside is filled with a pale white smoke, and some sort of smell, sickly sweat smell fills the air. Diffuse white light comes from two urns and from a green exit sign at the far side of the room. Biggs mind quickly registers images

Some white guy, dressed up like an savage stands with his back turned to Biggs; he's holding up a curved knife in hand, howling like a madman
A dark haired girl kneeling on the floor, some sort of cut oozing blood from the side of her face
The cruddy concrete floor has some sort of glimmering symbols carved in it. Not a pentagram, too many funny angles, more ornate where Jefferson and the girl are​
Jefferson is about 20 feet from the entryway (and Biggs) the girl is maybe 5 feet further away; the thick haze in the room and the weird lighting makes it hard to make out details


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## Bloodweaver1 (Dec 13, 2007)

*Cole Braddock*

“Well, it’s as good of a job as any for now. And that would be a no.” He states. “And normally I would be very much inclined to meeting new acquaintances but give the current predicament that I find myself to be in, I think its best for the time being that my undivided attention is spent else were.” He says with a small nod of his head and quick glance to the exotic women. 

“Curious, what city in America is this and is there someone I can get in touch with so I can make arrangements for myself?”


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## WarShrike (Dec 13, 2007)

_Complications, complications._ Thinks Biggs as he draws his second blade. He didn't like this setup. It stank. But he couldn't allow an innocent to suffer. Justice needed to be done, and the ghoul would suffer for his actions. He'd make sure Jefferson felt the fear and helplessness of a victim before Biggs sent him on to hell. _Better make this fast. I wonder if anyone will notice a difference between his howlings and the screams he'll be makin while i'm slicing him to ribbons._

Biggs attacks.

[SBLOCK=OOC]Wish i knew exactly what that entailed. Guess i'm about to find out.[/SBLOCK]


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## Festy_Dog (Dec 13, 2007)

Judas looks a little embarrassed and scratches his head, "Heh, thanks Frank. You know, you don't have to call me 'sir' or anything, Judas or Archer would do fine."

He actively tries to sniff it, and an optomistic smile crosses his face when the scent hits his nose.

"If I'm able to taste this then I'll have to take you up on that offer of a bite of steak. After all, my other senses have only felt keener since I... err, died, perhaps there's a way to unlock a heightened sense of taste. It only makes sense, right? Well, that's the hypothesis anyway," Archer extends his hand, "If I may?"


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## Graf (Dec 13, 2007)

Hold on now. Can't have you thinking we're uncivilized.

This here's my get Giselle," he gestures to the woman,  "she's religious. She worships some old hag called Baby Yaga. 
Giselle's eyes roll up in silent exasperation. 

Reggie's too " LB jerks a thumb at the Indian man in the corner, "but he's believah in Drrraaacuullaaa." As he says the name LB curls his over-sized hands into a claws and bares his fangs slightly.
If the Indian is irritated he doesn't show it.

"Reggie'll show you around." "Reggie" nods and moves toward the door.

"Futures a wonderful place mah friend. We've got fantastic new things. Mini-skirts! You'll love it." He waves as you're led out.


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## Graf (Dec 14, 2007)

*Beth's and Biggs' Prelude*

_I'm going to go crazy now_ 

The scary dude was getting closer again.

Beth's eyes are numbly locked on on the knife. Following it's every move. He'd cut her with it before, and she realizes that she's dimly aware that will probably happen again. 
_not crazy yet, if I was crazy I'd be less scared_ she thinks.

She'd thought she was going crazy when he fed her that stuff and she started seeing all the little bugs, or when he told the security guard to go to sleep and he did, or when he started all the screaming and dancing hours ago, or when he cut her and poured the stuff in her wound.

But she's not crazy yet. A crazy person couldn't be this scared.

_Sit there, don't move_The words are still curled around her forebrain. preventing movement. 

When she realized she could still make sounds, maybe an hour ago (five? who knew) she'd started screaming. But creepy guy had just looked at her like her father did when he was on the phone and didn't want to be disturbed. So she stopped.

Creepy guy was working himself up into some sort of climax. She didn't really want to think about what that meant. Her eyes just followed the knife.

A short guy with a sword ran out of the cloud of white insects surrounding them and stabbed the crazy guy.

_OK. I'm going to go crazy now._

*********************************

The haze had gotten so thick now it was like fighting in a fog bank. Biggs' had been dead on to nail the ghoul when the ghouls crazy dance pulled him out of the way of most of the swing.

The ghoul spun and jabbed at him with a knife. Biggs' momentum had brought him in too close. He grunted as the knife slid into his gut.

BIggs let out a scream and brought the sword down.
But he was swinging at the haze now. The ghoul had tumbled away.

Biggs felt a sharp pain in his leg. _There he is_ the hunter thought to himself.

*********************************
Beth pushed her face up off the ground. The creepy guy had tripped over something during the fight and landed on her.

_I can move again_.

With clinical detachment she noticed creepy guy had to his feet and was stabing the guy with the sword in the thigh. Next to her a braizer filled with hot coals sitting next to her on the ground. Behind her, she knew, was the exit door.

[sblock=Combat]
WJ's roll to notice Biggs
Biggs could technically roll initiative now but he's "dancing with himself" so I put it off till next round. Biggs' speed  in yards is greater than the distance to WJ, so he can run in and hit him.
BIggs' first attack 
Initiative
WJ's unbeleivably lucky return shot.
Biggs' with another terrible roll.
WJ tags Biggs again with another 10.

Currently Biggs has taken 4 lethal wounds.
WJ (his opponent) has taken 2.[/sblock]


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## Graf (Dec 14, 2007)

That is a very kind offer for you to make sir. Franky says agreeably.

He passes you the root. "Oh, well, I should say this could certainly give you a bit shock. If you put it in your mouth and concentrate on absorbing it you should feel something I think."

Archer places the root in his mouth and concentrates.

<><><><><><><><><><>

Archer is sitting in the sofa of the haven.

"Most excellent sir."

"What was that frank?"

There is no response.

Archer looks over. It sounds like Frank is sitting next to him. But Franks not there.

"As you say sir. Quite right you are."

Franks voice is loud and clear.

But Franks not there.

Archer can hear Frank's voice clearly.

But Frank's not there.

Frank doesn't sound like he's yelling.

Someone turns a page.

Like someone's holding a book up to Archer's ear and turning the page.

But no one is.

Archer stumbles back out of the haven, to the kitchen. Frank is there, thumbing through a book.

"Indeed sir. You've quite the right of it." Frank says to his book.

Archer wobbles through the door.

Frank turns.

"Ah, recovered our legs have we sir?"

His voice seems cavernous, huge.

"You were talking to me."

"Yes well you did seem to like that. Rather insisted I keep speaking."

"Why are you in here?"

"You very much insisted on that too sir. I think you were quite excited. About your new powers."

Archer squats down to pill out the Mossberg from the cabinet.

Frank hastily gets to his feet. His voice rises an octave,"Perhaps we won't be playing with the shotgun sir."

Archer is looking down at the weapon "The sights off."

Frank stands anxiously nearby. "Sir?"

"Something impacted the barrel here, it's twisted here, there's stress fracture here."

"Really sir?"

"Yes, yes, I can see it. It's very small but I can see it right here. It's why the sights off."

"Well, I must confess I don't really use the sight very much."

Frank gently reaches out and rests his hands on the shotgun.

"You could."

"Sir?"

"Use the sight."

"Yes, yes, you're quite right." Frank deftly pulls the shotgun from Archers grasp. "Capital idea sir. I will certainly take it under consideration."

Setting the shotgun down on the table, the ghoul begins to guide Archer out of the kitchen. "Perhaps we'll wait in the haven sir."

"Celeste is coming back?"

"No sir. I'm afraid she's still detained"

Frank eases the double to the inner area open. "I could feel the shells"

"Sir?"

"The shotgun. The shells. It was loaded, only two shells though. I could feel the extra weight."

"Quite right sir. Simply remarkable."

"And your heart beat, I can hear it. And your stomach it's making noise. Digesting the steak."

"Perhaps some more hearing practice sir?"

"Frank?"

"Music sir. Just what you need right now. A bit of music."

Frank eases Archer down into a chair and puts on some music.

Archer quickly finds himself completely immersed.

<><><><><><><><><><>

The rumbling of the door elevator door breaks through the music. He hears a soft tread of footsteps in the hallway outside. A distant creak as someone pushes in the kitchen door.

Archer is dimly aware of it. But he's drifting on a cloud, or resting on the sofa, or maybe the music is supporting him. He's not sure. Either way moving or cognition seems unnecessary.

You drugged him? Celeste's voice is level, but furious.

"Hardly ma'am. He volunteered."

"He's completely insensate."

"Yes well. I suppose he might learn some sort of lesson from that."

"I'm not happy about this."

"I'm sure that when you think about it you'll find it doesn't bother you as much as you think."

there is a long silence, or maybe the music just drowns out everything else

"How did our meeting with the Prince go?"

"It was a disaster. He's suspicious now."

"Really? How shocking."
End of Archer's second night​


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## WarShrike (Dec 14, 2007)

Biggs feels he's losing this fight, but he doesn't see the point of trying to run.

[SBLOCK=OOC]Why isn't he useing both blades?[/SBLOCK]


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## Graf (Dec 14, 2007)

Archer's Third Night​
The car winds it's way through the woods. There isn't a star in the sky; the inky blackness seems to suit your sire's mode.

Archer realizse how phenomenally blessed he is. Celeste sparkles, radiant in a black evening dress. He realizes now that he's never met anyone in your whole life who is as wonderful, as fantastic as she is. He understands now why people write songs about love. She's perfect.

Celeste squirms slightly in the seat beside you. She gives you a forced smile but quickly looks away. She obviously doesn't wish to speak. She hasn't since she got up today and you drank her blood again.

Frank, driving in front, shifts the car down a gear and turns from the small double lane road onto a single lane one out deeper into the forest.

[sblock=The Blood Oath]
After the third drink of her blood you've taken the "Blood Oath" as the Invinctus like to call it. I'll roll in a minute when you get your stuff set up but the odds of getting an exceptional success are low enough that leave the post the way it is for now.

Not that anyone's actually told you about any of this, btw.

You do have a dot of Auspex from your experience last night. So things aren't all bad.[/sblock]


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## Graf (Dec 14, 2007)

[sblock=OOC to War] Honestly? 
Because I thought you'd kill this guy in one or two hits and the prelude would keep going on. See also my post on the discussion thread.

Going forward we'll have you use whirling blades (so he'll be rolling 1 die with the knife to your 6 -- I think that's how the math works out). I just want to let ig post for Beth first.[/sblock]


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## Bloodweaver1 (Dec 14, 2007)

*Cole Braddock*

"My lady.” he says with a slow and courteous bow to Giselle. _Nice job flirting with the Prince’s girl there buddy… real smooth._ 

“Right.” He says as he mocks an attempt to straighten out his ragged clothes. “Well I do certainly appreciate your hospitality my Liege. Until we meet again.” He says with polite nod of his head and then follows Reggie out of the room. Once outside he takes a noticeable sigh as he unconsciously runs his hands through his hair. He visibly relaxes and lets his eyes begin to wonder about his surrounding. Following in step behind the Reggie he asks, “So… um… Reggie right? Where does one go in the new millennia to freshen up?”


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## industrygothica (Dec 14, 2007)

Beth looks around and takes in the scene.  _Surreal_ was the only word that came to her, not that she was trying for something clever right now.  The hot coals called to her.  _Maybe it'll distract him, at least... let Sword Guy catch a break._  The exit called louder. _Or let the freaks worry about it themselves and get the hell out of here..._

It seemed like minutes of contemplation-too many minutes, but was only seconds. Fractions of seconds, probably.  _What if Creepy Guy wins. What if he comes back?_

In a swift motion she snatches the basin of coals from the ground, not thinking about the heat, and slams it open-end-first into Creepy Guy's head and face.

_That's all the help you'll get from me, Sword Guy. Hope it helps_, she thought as she stumbled out the door, too scared to scream.


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## Graf (Dec 14, 2007)

*Cole's Prelude*

Reggie smiles amenably, "Well I think we can arrange for a tailor tomorrow; this evening perhaps you could borrow something of mine. I beleive there are also spare apartments next to mine as well"

The Indian man guides Cole down the corridor.
End of First Part of Cole's Prelude​


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## Festy_Dog (Dec 14, 2007)

It felt somewhat strange. Admittedly, more than a little strange. Archer should have been angry. He had good reason to be angry. Archer had originally thought he was angry, but in the space of a few days he had only been feeling more and more strongly about Celeste. Love was perhaps an apt term. Perhaps in hindsight, his reason for anger lost importance. Shrunk of its own accord. Was he obsessed? He couldn't rightly tell. Maybe his attraction to her has grown to dwarf his anger into obscurity.

He wanted to know what it was that caused the change. It seemed somewhat of a stupid idea, considering his circumstances, but talking to Celeste seemed one of his most prominent options. Archer had the feeling she was stressed over something, so a talk could help them both. Where would he start though? Celeste didn't even look like she wanted to talk, but perhaps Judas could work a little of his charm.

"Something troubles you," Archer smiled understandingly, "Something to do with me?"

He put a hand to the bandages around his neck, curious to see if they had soaked through. Archer had the idea not long after he got up, and thought that if they were taking a trip out it would make the ideal first test. He didn't know anything about medicine, but concealing an injury was a simple enough task.


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## Graf (Dec 15, 2007)

*Biggs' Prelude*

Beth grabs hold of hot braiser. She smells burning meat but doesn't feel any pain.

With a silent grunt she wrenches it into the air at the creepy guy. She's running before it hits the ground. 

The ghoul manages to get out of the way of the cascade of hot coals. He spins, hissing.

Biggs slashes him accross the back with the katana. The ghoul whirls again.

Running madly Beth slams into the door. As the girl bursts into the night air a loud alarm rings out.

The ghoul seems to gain a measure of sense; a nasty look comes across his face. Ducking away from one of Biggs' swings it locks eyes with the former soldier. _STAY_ it commands. 

Biggs tries to step forward, but his feet seem rooted to the ground. He slashes out but the freak is just out of range. The ghoul sneers, spits on the ground and bolts off into the mall.

Biggs stands in the darkness white smoke curling around him as the security alarm blares.

[sblock=Combat]
So I used the white wolf roller. Even spending a willpower to get 5 dice Beth didn't manage any successes. But I couldn't link to the result (what's the point of an online die roller that doesn't show you the roll you got?) 

Got irriated went back to IC and it's up again.

Biggs tags the ghoul for one more.
WJ gets a command off on Biggs holding him for long enough to get away.

For the record I took descriptive liberities with some actions. Beth should have acted and moved before Biggs swung (but that didn't make so much sense). So I pushed her move action (and the alarm it triggered) back a bit. 
Similar for the ghoul (i.e. in game terms it just did 'command' and moved it's speed.)
Some of biggs jabs and slashes also weren't actually attacks, more just reflect his being in melee.[/sblock]


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## Graf (Dec 15, 2007)

*Cole's Prelude*

The next few months pass quickly for Cole, spring turns to summer as he works to adapt to his new environment. For the first week or two he's encouraged (forced) to stay on the private floor of LB's building. In the spare room next to Raghunandan (as "Reggie" is properly named).

The City is quite different than Egypt. The prince apparently a member of the Invictus but has few guests and doesn't seem to have a regular Elysium. Giselle makes occasional appearances, always accompanied by a squad of short demented looking dark-skinned Asians. 

Another one of LB's childer, also a young female (in appearance), is apparently the Sheriff  Blackcoat (or "Blackie" as LB calls her) is barely five feet tall, wears black combat boots and a long black coat and is missing most of one of her ears (it looks like it was bitten off). She's frequently accompanied by a bald man with a red scarf over his face.

The "don't leave this floor requirement" is relaxed when LB catches Cole going into the elevator (mostly out of sheer boredom -- the elevator doesn't go anywhere without a key). Once Cole demonstrates he can, in fact operate an elevator; LB goes into what seems to be an interpretation of an old british person who can't operate the elevator.
(It's quite tricky to tell, LB's faux british accent is almost incomphrensible)
In return for agreeably suffering through the experience LB announces next sundown that "Hell! Scarman's got ghouls that can't run an elevator. Far as ah'm concerned the gentleman is "caught up"!"

[sblock=LB's rules]
No embracing
No ghouling
All blood bonds are reported, an' that means promptly.
No shenanigans.

There does not seem to be any sort of formal definition of shenanigans.
[/sblock]

The next week Charity comes to pick up you up. She lives up to LB's nickname for her ("Beanpole"), as she's easily a head taller than a tall man. Initially Cole thinks that she hates him, but it rapidily becomes apparent she's like that with everyone. She's surrounded by a handful of mute staff who seem to be so dominated as to barely be able to speak. She takes you to LB's reserve and tersely explains the rules. With extreme reluctance she give you a card with a number and tells you that you're "Never to call me. Never!"

From then on Cole is picked up a few times a week and taken to the princes private reserve. A network of clubs, and hotel bars located in the northern suburbs. The atmosphere is posh and restrained. Up and comers from all industries, as well as the wealthy and attractive congregate there.
Certain bar staff (denoted by a small green badge) discretely flag young people (entirely female) with simple coded signals. The targets all young and healthy are invariably quite willing to slip off to a quiet dark booth with anyone identified as a "friend of the establishment".

[sblock=LB's Private Reserve]
In game terms anyone hunting on LB's reserve with his permission has Herd *****; it's almost impossible to not feed successfully or to encounter any problems.[/sblock]


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## Graf (Dec 15, 2007)

*Archer's Prelude*



			
				Festy_Dog said:
			
		

> "Something troubles you," Archer smiled understandingly, "Something to do with me?"




[sblock=Missing]Going to drop off for a bit, but wanted to have some forward momentum so I thought I'd put this up. I'll try to colorize it later.[/sblock]

Archer tries to reach out to Celeste but she mutely shakes her head and looks out the window.

The car drives on for some minutes before pulling up at a roundabout in front of what can only be described as a castle. "Don't speak unless your spoken to. Not a word." Celeste departs from the car, serene and regal. She leads you up the steps and through the open doors in to a massive foyer that looks like it's something out of a movie. Massive winding staircases make their way up to the second level. A gargantuan crystal chandeler, with hundreds of candles, sheds light over the whole room.

You are greeted by a young man, british by the accent, rushing from the side door. "Madam Celeste, most unexpected. It's customary to sent a letter in advance, yes?" He slides to a stop in front of you, managing to adriotly bow while blocking further passage.

"I'm in a hurry. To see Marquise Scarman."

"A phone call madam. At the very least perhaps a phone call." the servant manages the near impossible feat of sounding both obsquisous and firm.

"I haven't--" Celeste is interrupted by loud sound of a door cracking off of it's hindges.

A forceful masculine voice echoes from the second story. "VISTORS MEN! STAND FAST! LEESON! COVER THEM FROM THE WEST WING. TOTTER! FROM THE EAST!"

A trim black hair man bounds into view. His hairline is receeding, and he has sharp, cruel features. In his right hand he carries a spear, capped with an ornate silver spearhead.

As his gaze drops to Celeste's party Archer feels something inexplicable, something bad happening. He realizes he is suddenly very very afraid of this man. _most remain calm, must remain calm; for Celeste_ with a tremendous act of will he manages to quell the urge to escape from this man.

The man lets out a muted snarl revealing fangs. Composing himself he walks down the stairway. "Madam Celeste?"

Celeste bows humbly, tugging on Archer's hand to follow "Most Rightous Marquise Scarman, I humblely beg a few moments of your time this evening."

From his bowing postion Archer notes the man's utilitarian.clothing seems to be dated.

"I may be able to spare a few minutes right after I attend to a matter."

"A matter sir?"

"Yes. It seems that some vagabond has wandered into my haven unannounced."

Celeste's hand tightens, she's driving her fingernails into Archer's skin.

"I might have thought that you would have assumed he was with me." Celeste seems to be uncharacteristically struggling to find the proper words.

"Perhaps you assumed I knew him?"

"No."

"But you know him."

"Yes."

"But you do not think I know him."

"No." Celeste's teeth make a small grinding noise. She stops bowing and stands up.

"And he's come here with you."

"He has." Celeste's face is taunt.

"Ahh," Scarman is slowly pacing the hall. "Perhaps you forgot to introduce me."

"I did not. I--"

Scarman makes a irritated hrumphing sound. Celeste bites off her sentence.

"It seems so unusual, for someone who calls herself the Harpy of the city, to forget such a common curdousy as how to make a proper introduction."

"I DID NOT!" Celeste seems to be on the verge of exploding in anger.

"Oh?" Scarman's body  position shifts slightly.

I. DID. NOT." Celeste forces herself into a modicum of calm "call myself Harpy."

"Oh?"

"No."

"But I have heard you called Harpy."

"The Prince has never named a Harpy."

"I beleive you are right about the Prince. And yet, I hear other's calling you Harpy. You have not heard such things?"

"I... may have."

"Ahh. But you never felt the need to correct them?"

"Perhaps I didn't think it was the appropriate thing to do at the time."

"I see. It can be so dreadfully tiring correcting little people of their misunderstandings."

Celeste puts on a warm smile and turns to Scarman, "It is so good to have the opportunity to visit you again."

Scarman stops and also puts on a large smile. "Yes. And to see new faces in the city. Since the prince seems to be allowing people in now it may be even possible to finally see our ranks swell again."

"Yes, well. I'd like you to meet my Childe, Judas Archer."

Scarman looks surprised. "I had no idea you'd embraced my dear. That must have been what, the fifties?"

"No. Not exactly."

Scarman raises one of his thin eyebrows expectantly.

"Why, I embraced Archer just the other day."

The plesant expression drops from Scarmans face completely and the room is very very still.


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## Bloodweaver1 (Dec 16, 2007)

*Cole Braddock*

He socialized with Gesellie whenever she was around and wasn’t with her ‘escort’ or with the Prince. Though he made sure to not to give the perception to on lookers that conversations were nothing but friendly chatter. 

He took Cestry’s business card with extreme care and made a mental note of her position. After all, the Prince’s Sheriff is always in need of quality merchandise and one could benefit quite lucratively if one was able to supply such goods. 

Thanks to Reggie he was finally able to get a hold of some financial coordinators, more like glorified bean counters, and was able to track down some of his financial holdings he was able to store away before his unfortunate demise. It wasn’t much, what one expect after 70 years. 

Cole had to admit, given his current situation, things were going pretty good. He had access to the finest of eateries and to society’s darkest elite. Daddy didn’t raise no fool though and he knew that all good things come to end if one didn’t move quickly. So he whenever he could he used his newly acquired freedom to begin making contacts and establishing himself within the movers and shakers of the underworld’s underground. He hasn’t started moving anything yet as one has to establish a foundation first before they can build. So mostly he simply sat with people and got to know who they were and what they did.


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## Graf (Dec 17, 2007)

*Bigg's Prelude*

_Iktan belova_

Biggs staggered into his hole-in-the-wall room.

The room spun a bit before he got his feet under him and bolted the door.

He couldn't remember exactly how he got back. After the fight the damn security guard had wandered in. One look at Biggs, covered in blood and holding a sword and he'd run back to his little desk to hide.

Biggs'd slipped away, followed a canal into the city, he remembered walking under a bridge. 

At least his wounds had stopped bleeding.

Digital clock on the nightstand said 4:47.

Biggs realized he was thirsty. Klicked on the bathroom light. Dropped the rested the Katana on the radiator. Drank some water from a cupped hand. Spat it out. Rat-traps water tasted utterly foul.

Biggs looked at the mirror. It looked fogged up. He reached out a tried to wipe the fog off. It wouldn't wipe. The bathroom door behind him was clear but there was a something in front of it, like a big smear, right where his reflection was supposed to be.

_Iktan belova_, he heard himself think.


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## WarShrike (Dec 17, 2007)

_Iktan Belova. What the hell is going on? This can't be right. Im hallucinating. Yeah, that's it! Loss of blood! After all, i wasn't bit by a vampire, i was stabbed by a ghoul. THIS CAN'T F______ BE HAPPENNING!_

Calming down, slightly, Biggs openned up the mirror cabinet and took out the first aid kit. He then proceeded to clean and bind his wounds. The mirror would have helped alot, but he couldn't bring himself to close the cabinet, lest he see something there that would start his panic again. _Best i get cleaned up and level headed first._

Thinking about the blood loss, he heads to the fridge to fill up on liquids. Openning the fridge, he pulls out a 12 pack of Bud, and slinks over to the couch, getting comfortable.

_Ahhh, best damn medicine there is!_

Once he's "mellowed out", he'll be ready to confront the mirror again.


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## Graf (Dec 17, 2007)

As he binds his wounds Biggs realizes his wounds really have stopped bleeding, completely.

The beer smells fine, but it must be skunked, or something. Biggs feels like wretching as soon as he puts it in his mouth and tries to swallow.

As he's trying the second can there is a knock on the door.


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## Graf (Dec 17, 2007)

*Archer's Prelude*

The car slowly makes it's way out of driveway.

The visit to the Marquise's house finished abruptly and suddenly.

Celeste seems furious. She silently plucks non-existent pieces of lint from her beautiful evening gown.


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## Graf (Dec 17, 2007)

*Cole's Prelude*

[sblock] 







			
				Bloodweaver1 said:
			
		

> He took Cestry’s business card with extreme care and made a mental note of her position. After all, the Prince’s Sheriff is always in need of quality merchandise and one could benefit quite lucratively if one was able to supply such goods.



Chasity, Reggie casually informs you is not the Sheriff. The tall woman would properly be closer in position to Seneschal in a more organized city.



			
				Bloodweaver1 said:
			
		

> Thanks to Reggie he was finally able to get a hold of some financial coordinators, more like glorified bean counters, and was able to track down some of his financial holdings he was able to store away before his unfortunate demise. It wasn’t much, what one expect after 70 years.



Reggie proves completely useless in terms of anything related to finance, and, almost equally useless with regard to the mortal world. When not summoned by LB, or visiting by Cole he seems to sit quietly in his room studying books in French, Latin and other languages that Cole can't easily identify. 
When he departs by himself it seems to be only to the library or to feed. Cole's never encountered him on the reserve, or traveled with him.

On the question of recovering his finances he quietly suggests that "You might consider taking opportunities afforded you to reevaluate your interests. Perhaps you might find that things that interested you during your mortal years do not hold the same appeal as they once did."

But see below.



			
				Bloodweaver1 said:
			
		

> Cole had to admit, given his current situation, things were going pretty good. He had access to the finest of eateries and to society’s darkest elite. Daddy didn’t raise no fool though and he knew that all good things come to end if one didn’t move quickly. So he whenever he could he used his newly acquired freedom to begin making contacts and establishing himself within the movers and shakers of the underworld’s underground. He hasn’t started moving anything yet as one has to establish a foundation first before they can build. So mostly he simply sat with people and got to know who they were and what they did.



I'll address this in my next post.

You've also met at least one more kindred who gives you a hint about your "old finances". (will post about this next).[/sblock]



			
				Bloodweaver1 said:
			
		

> He socialized with Gesellie whenever she was around and wasn’t with her ‘escort’ or with the Prince. Though he made sure to not to give the perception to on lookers that conversations were nothing but friendly chatter.



Despite her ghouls socializing with Giselle is easily accomplished. She passes down the long corridor from the elevator to LB's office frequently. She seems happy to "talk" though she speaks infrequently at best. But her half smile invites conversation and as she periodically makes visits Cole develops some idea of what her shrugs and gestures represent. 
Giselle's wardrobe seems completely defined by the words "slinky" and "green". This along with his long "dry spell" probably explains the very vivid thoughts of Giselle sensuously drinking his blood that Cole often experiences upon waking each evening.


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## WarShrike (Dec 17, 2007)

Gripping his Katana hard enough to make his knuckles go white, Biggs aproaches the door. "A person's gotta have a _damned_ good reason to knock on a fella's door at this time of night" he says, loudly. _This is no coincidence_

Openning the door, Katana ready, Biggs says: "Unless you want me to cut you in half, fill in this blank: Iktan ______."

Biggs will relax if the "password" is given, in need more of an explanation than annother fight.


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## Graf (Dec 17, 2007)

As soon as Biggs undoes the door it's forced open, violently.
A small (tiny really) woman in a black trench coat slams into the doorway.

"Thanks for opening that shugah".

<cue Final Fantasy fight music>


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## Festy_Dog (Dec 17, 2007)

Celeste had warned Archer about the compulsions he'd get upon meeting new faces in the Kindred community, but he didn't expect anything of the intensity he actually felt when he set eyes on Scarman. It was animalistic and instinctual, slapped him upside the head and demanded he rapidly vacate in the presence of a superior predator. He resists, and sees something akin to the same reaction in Scarman.

Archer follows Celeste's cues, trying to maintain his composure despite upset brought about with introductions and the heated debate going back and forth between his sire and the host. When Celeste's statement brought on a shocked silence though his concern reached its peak. Archer remained silent and looked to Celeste, hoping for her to give some kind of sign that everything was under control.

The sudden departure felt like it wasn't the ending she had intended.

"So, if things had gone more to your preference, what would that encounter have entailed?" Judas asked hesitantly as they drove back towards the city.


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## WarShrike (Dec 17, 2007)

Drawing the Wakizashi from it's sheath on his back, Biggs loses his temper and cuts down the intruder.

[SBLOCK=Graf]Biggs spends 1 Willpower for +3 to his attack (if i read it right)[/SBLOCK]

[SBLOCK=OOC]I cant find where it describes fighting with 2 weapons, so, for my own poor confusion's sake, how does it work?

Scenario #1: It's all part of the same attack.
Example #1: STR (3) + Weaponry (4) + Katana (3L) + Wakizashi (2L) = 12 dice attack.

Scenario #2: Each blade makes a seperate attack.
Example #2: [STR (3) + Weaponry (4) + Katana (3L) = 10 dice attack] + [STR (3) + Weaponry (4) + Wakizashi (2L) = 9 dice attack] = 19 dice attack.

Scenario 2 looks like its a bit much.


[/SBLOCK]


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## Graf (Dec 17, 2007)

Celeste looks over at Archer, "It. went. fine.," she says obviously struggling to control some sort of powerful emotion. 

Frank waves from the front seat, catching Celeste's eye in the rear view mirror"There is _no reason to hold things in_, madam".

Archer looks back at Celeste in time to see Celeste's heel hitting his face. Fangs extended, snarling she's on him like a wild cat, punching, and biting.

As Archer reflexively moves to protect himself he feels the car swerving to the side of the country road and stopping.


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## Graf (Dec 17, 2007)

*Biggs' Prelude*

The woman pulls out a pair of brass knuckles as Biggs draws his katana. He brings the blades down fast.

_Fast_ Biggs notes clinically. She manages to catch his Katana on the brass knuckle, but that just gives leaves her open to be gutted by the wakizashi. A normal person would be down, bleeding and holding their guts in. She snarls revealing big fangs.

The next Biggs sees is a steel toed combat boot. He's dimly aware of hitting his head on something. The ceiling. She just kicked him into the ceiling.

Biggs struggles to keep his feat under him. But she's already inside his guard; Biggs feels his jaw crack as the knuckles slam into his face.

Then he's on the ground. There's a snapping sound, Biggs feels his jaw pulling back into place (healing?). He's on his hands and knees when something is pouned into his chest.

Then Biggs is unconcious.

[sblock=Combat]
Biggs wins init; which is good cause it matches the story.
Assuming you're using duck and parry, since you've got the wakizashi out (so +2 def -2 attack). So it's 10-4(her modified def)+3. For some reason I made that six dice. I rolled an extra die later (but no success[/url. [url=http://invisiblecastle.com/find.py?id=1431490]Generate 4 wounds ( she's size 4 so she'd usually be hurting pretty bad).

Even with his defense at four Blackcaot generates  5 successes. Those tens really help.Since she's got Boxing (=streefighting)* and biggs is size 5 that means Biggs is stunned and loses his next action. 
Her next attack  does another 3 points of blashing. That's enough to fill the rest of Biggs boxes.

When you're prone and unconcious you don't get defense (I think, I don't actually have the book in front of me) so she gets 6 successes. To stake you need to get an exceptional success (5 successes). Biggs is staked. Which means he appears to be dead, but will revive as soon as the stake is pulled. There's some other stuff, but we won't worry about it for now.

Sorry if the fight was a bit messy. It wasn't fair, at all, and I didn't want to drag it out.[/sblock]


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## Festy_Dog (Dec 17, 2007)

And so Judas Archer had offered a carefully constructed question as to goad Celeste into venting her anger on him, and perhaps allow her to feel better. He wasn't stupid, this whole trip centered on him and it had gone wrong, and he wanted to try and make things right. He expected her to be screaming at him though, not trying to tear him apart. 

Archer tried to shield himself from the worst of it, but Celeste moved like a blur, and more than a few blows connected with his face and neck. He felt something rupture in his neck, and with a snort a spray of blood leaves his nose and mouth, signaling his neck injury had reopened. The bandages over the left side of his neck gained a growing red stain.

Archer wouldn't dream of fighting back, he couldn't bear the thought of hurting Celeste. He even considered dropping his defenses entirely, but where's the satisfaction in beating up someone who doesn't try to at least shield themselves? In the end he wanted Celeste to feel better for the exercise so he maintained his farce of a defense and soaked up her anger willingly. Injuries would always heal, and now posed even less of a problem than when he was alive. It was a small sacrifice.


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## Graf (Dec 19, 2007)

*Cole's Prelude*

Cole looks up at the building. He's off the reservation, this is probably the first time he's seriously challeneged LB's authority. But he couldn't help it. He looks up at the modern steel skyscraper.

_*Braddock, Fitzroy and Lamb*_ says big metal sign on the side of the building.

_Lamb and Fitzroy_... his old business partners. He looks up at the building. That Asian vampire he met a few nights ago had been right. He wasn't sure where this Celeste had gotten her information but it looked like business had been good.

[sblock=OOC]
Blood, 

Feel free to post anything you like, or nothing at all about your old business partners. Key points: You were buisness partners, but informally, as black market smugglers. Cole was effectively "senior" to the other two, neither of whom where particularly creative. You worked together for a few years in mediterrianian often using Casablanca and Cairo as hubs.

My next post will incorporate whatever you post, in the details of your last meeting with them in Egypt before you went into your long sleep.
[/sblock]


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## Graf (Dec 19, 2007)

*Archer's Prelude*

Archer's passivity seems to enrage Celeste even further. At length though her anger seems to fade and stops jumping up and down him.

Archer is dimly aware of the car door being opened and being slowly dragged out onto the pavement. 

Celeste passes through the line of sight of his good eye breifly. Even with her hair wild and her evening gown ripped and torn by her strenous actions she looks radiant.

She silently retreives something from the trunk. A moment later there is a sloshing sound and Archer realizes she's pouring something on him.

It smells a lot like gasoline.


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## Festy_Dog (Dec 19, 2007)

In the end the beating was more severe than Archer had anticipated, but that wasn't at the top of his immediate list of priorities. Gasoline only meant one thing. The thought of fire somehow perturbed him more than it used to, thus the prospect of being turned into a human-shaped torched was a significant source of stress.

Looking up through the functioning eye at Celeste, Archer couldn't help but wonder what he did wrong. He tried to say something, but it came out as a raspy, bloody slur and barely audible. Movement was nigh impossible, and communication seemed out of the question. He didn't know what his options were, and continued struggling to get up while trying to say something through his damaged throat.


----------



## Graf (Dec 21, 2007)

*Bigg's Prelude*

Biggs returns to consciousness with a start. Aware that he's strapped down extremely tightly, in something like a coffin. 

What looks like a lid has been slide partially off. Revealing an the face of an Indian man (SE Asian not Native American). The man's obvious fangs suggest he's a vampire, but Biggs doesn't feel the same surge of anger he felt when he saw the woman in the black trenchcoat.

I would appreciate it if you would remain quiet and listen to a proposition I have for you. I assure you that your existence hangs in the balance. the man says.

[sblock=OCC]
Biggs is completely restrained. He's welcome to test his bonds, but he can easily confirm there is no give. Speach, etc. aren't impaired.
[/sblock]


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## WarShrike (Dec 21, 2007)

"A fine _Iktan Belova_ to you." says Biggs with a sigh. "Go on, i'm all ears."


----------



## Graf (Dec 21, 2007)

*Biggs Prelude*

The Indian man cocks his head oddly before carefully saying "Your position is precarious. I can appreciate your desire to take action however I humbly suggest that you listen instead. 

He replaces the lid. It sounds like he sits down nearby.

A few minutes later Biggs can hear conversation beginning as two more people enter the room.

[sblock=read first]The following sblock has a really long conversation. It was written some time ago, and, despite being poorly written has some info about the various participants in the city as well as giving Biggs some idea about how precarious his situation is. I'll summarize the key points in the Synopsis bock, if people want to read more "conversations between NPCs" you're free to do so, consider it optional.
I freely admit that the text is long and this scene, like several of archer's recent scenes, aren't particularly interesting to participate in, or well written. Please do your best to accept them as they are. The game won't be like this.
(In my defense I would simply say that this is what fell out of the process of trying to develop the city. And also enable a character like Biggs to exist in the story.)[/sblock]

[sblock=Synopsis]
Biggs is being held captive by some vampire who calls himself "the Prince". He is apparently like the Vampire King of the city.
Biggs was not supposed to have been made into a vampire; he is "owned" by the prince because of this
the Prince doesn't like vampire hunters (no shock) and is almost certainly not a nice or good person (in fact he doesn't seem to properly think in human terms anymore)
He has two lieutenants, "Reggie" (the Indian) and "Blackie" (the woman who attacked Biggs in his hotel room)
"Reggie" thinks that Biggs deserves some sort of chance
"Blackie" thinks Biggs is dangerous and should buried in cement (or something similar)
the prince is very very touchy about his image (how other vampires see him)
the prince is a bully
Blackie" is afraid of him and his temper
The prince is strong enough to break a sword with his bare hands
There are apparently a sect of religious vampires
The prince dislikes talking about religion
"Reggie" is very good at kissing the prince's a__
"Reggie" is very unpopular with religious vampires (and why is apparently a secret that even the Prince doesn't know)
The Prince has decided to let Biggs live, but only to use him as some sort of example to something called "neonates"[/sblock]


[sblock=The actual conversation]A masculine voice enters the room "Alright, so who's the best mind f___er we got."
"What?" The man stops.
"I didn't say anything," Reggie says.
"Yeah, but you got a look that says you got something to say."
"I don't think it's proper to dominate this man."
"Reggie, I'm the prince. His sire, whoever the f___ they are. Don't got no siring privileges. That means his ass is mine. This ain't Europe Reggie."
"That's not what I'm talking about. I think, Lucius, that it's morally wrong."
"You're talking to me. Reggie. And I understand the words coming out of your mouth, but this isn't making -any- sense to me. Speak to my level."
"Would you violently rape a small child?"
"You still confusing me. I'm a vampire Reggie. Ah don't feel those particular sets ah urges."
"Fine. Would you kill a small child?"
"Is this one of them eastern mystical things?"
"Would you?"
"We talking about a specific child?"
"No. Just a child."
"Alright. Sure. I wouldn't kill a small child."
"Because?"
B: "We're waisting time."
"No no Blackie, the man has finally started to make some sense. Alright. Alright. Ah wouldn't kill any children cause it wouldn't be right."
"Personally I believe that killing a small child and dominating this man, completely stripping him of his will and personality are, though not the same, both similar in that they're morally wrong."
"You know he hunts vampires with a big sword, right?"
"If you found out that monsters were hunting your people what would you do."
"Reggie, you know I have a real, abiding affection for you. But sometimes you need to look at the practical side of things. Now..., "
"Would you sit around and do nothing?"
"Ah hell. Fine. I'd do something."
<silence>
"But look Reggie, this the 80s now."
B clears her throat.
"Blackie, fine. The 90s right? Alright? Slip of the tongue. That just makes my point more. They got all these new fangled things. Them cordless phones? They work outside now. And this thing? <sound of metal> Kani-chachas?"
Biggs ear can make out the telltail sound of a katana vibrating slightly as it's being waved around
"When we were morals they didn't have any of this Kani-chacha's or whatever. It's a different era. People don't believe in vampires no more. The guy is nuts! Crazy! A loon!"
There's a banging sound as the sword is brought down with a loud smash. It sounds like the sword blade just broke.
"f___. Now I got metal anywhere. What's wrong with a normal f___ing sword? Carrying around a normal sword don't make you crazy enough? You need a crazy sword?"
"So you don't believe in the baptism of the blessed embrace?"
"Ah... Reggie! Hold on! Now! Wait a minute. This is a private f___ing conversation, right?"
"Of course."
"Just between the lot of us, right?"
"Of course."
"An' that conversation we had, that gentleman's agreement we had, the one when you started."
"I remember"
"You ain't having no second thoughts?"
"Not at all."
"Ok. Well, then. We don't to be talking 'bout no religious stuff then."
"Do you?"
"Hell Reggie! What I just say. I got enough problems repeating myself all the time, now you going to start? If I recall correctly you gave up this religious stuff. You may not have noticed but the Sanctified visit me weekly demanding your head on a platter."
"My beliefs aren't at issue here; but yours. It's not meant to be a religious question but a legal one."
"You're not making sense again."
"Do you, as prince, the arbiter of law in the city; believe that each vampire, once embraced has a clean slate, or are there some crimes which even the embrace can not wash away?"
<silence>
"There any third f___ing choice?"
<silence>
"Blackie?"
She's obviously been waiting to speak, "I think it's insane that we're having this conversation. He's an insane menace. We should kill him and be done with it. If you think there's some sort of political advantage..."
<sound of someone standing up>
Blackcoat's voice trails off. "I'd didn't... what I mean..."
<sound of someone walking across the floor>
LB's voice is soothing, "It's all right. I ain't mad at you."
<silence>
LB "You getting enough rest?"
Blackcoat "I didn't mean..."
"You didn't... cause it sure sounded like you meant it..."
An uncomfortable silence lingers, eventually, Blackcoat says "Maybe I haven't been resting so well."
"OK. Well then. You'd probably be making mistakes then."
"Yes," her voice is meek.
"You make any mistakes recently?"
"Yes"
"What mistake was that?"
"I said you'd act out of... of..."
"It's OK, you can say it. Ah ain't mad at you."
"Political advantage; but I didn't mean that."
"Why not?"
"You don't think about things like that. Think in that way I mean..."
"How do I think about things?"
"You think about things in a manner.... that is... I mean..."
"Take your time."
"Fairness, an' justice. Doing the right thing for everybody."
"Everybody"
"The city and everybody, in it. The Kindred."
"That's right. And ah know youh a bit stupid some times and you get confused but even if you're a bit confused are you going to say that I..."
"no. No!"
"Why not?"
"Because it gives people the wrong idea."
"That's right. You're my girl you know that?"
<pause>
"I plum forgot what we were talking about."
"The hunter."
"That's right. And you were gonna say something before you got a bit confused."
"I...."
"It's OK. I ain't mad. Just give us your suggestion."
"Construction. At the stadium. They're filling in the pilings. Tomorrow. Concrete. Deep. It's Deep."
"So we should just stick him in there and forget about him. Who do you call?"
"Luciano."
"We use Luciano for stuff like this?"
"Switch. I mean. Mix-up. You said you wanted... I mean..."
The Prince and Blackcoat walk back and forth slowly in and out of your line of sight.
"That's right. I said I wanted to alternate between Luciano and that other fella. I'd forgotten that. See, everybody makes mistakes. You got a lot on your plate don't you? You got a hella lot to keep in your head. And I understand that ain't easy. You're doing a great job. A real bang up job. I don't tell you that enough do I? You do a fantastic job. Everybody says so. You keep everything organized for me. And I appreciate that. I depend on you. The city depends on you. If we were living you know what I'd do?"
"You'd make a day for me." Blackcoat's voice is small but seems oddly content. Almost proud.
"That's right. You saw that one coming huh? I'd make a whole f___ing day for you. You deserve it too. People'd get off work and sit around in the park with sandwiches and have a whole day to think about how much good you do for the city. And for me."
"And you do sooo much for me. So much that..." the conversation takes on the element of ritual
"...people think that I speak for you"
"even if?"
"even if it's something you'd never say"
"or even?"
"or even think. 'cause you don't think. I mean..."
"you mean I don't think like that. That's right."
Through an air-hole you can make out the Prince, Lucius and the woman. Lucius bending over, with his forehead touching hers. He's holding her head in his hands. From this vantage point you can make her face, her eyes are closed, her face is serene.
"Ah put a lot of pressure on you sometimes don't ah?"
She makes a small nod.
"Ah do regret that. Ah really do. You understand it's just cause your so dependable right?"
She makes another small nod.
"Ah put too much pressure on you?"
She shakes her head
"'cause if it's too much you just say the word..."
she shakes her head again
"you the toughest girl I know, you know that?" Lucius envelopes the woman in a big hug.
After a long minute he walks away and you can see her rubbing something away from her eyes.
"Reggie?" There is a heaving creaking sound. You can see the Indian mans head, it looks like Lucius is leaning on the chair from behind. Resting his big hands on the little man's shoulders.
"Lucius?"
"About this conversation that we just had."
"You know I am a social pariah."
"Yes well, nevertheless, if you were to have a conversation with someone."
"An improbable event."
"But if you were?"
"Yes?"
"Especially if we were discussing religiosity...?"
"If your religious beliefs were to come up?"
"Yeah."
"I would only be able to share my personal experience."
"That being?"
"That I have nightly been amazed to see you struggle between the demands of your deep personal beliefs in the teachings of Longinus and the practical requirements of running a modern domain."
"You know some people think I'm not religious. That I don't take the teachings of our savior so seriously."
"I see a very deep conviction running through you."
"Yeah?"
"Unfortunately the modern age has robbed many of their ability to differentiate such things."
"But not you?"
"You have often commented on my perceptiveness."
"Well. That's cause you're a perceptive guy Reggie. You may be the most perceptive fellow I know. At least till Pavoch drags his smelly carcase out of the ground."
"You do appreciate that it's very unlikely I would ever talk about this to anyone."
"Yeah. You weren't f___ing kidding about being a social f___ing Pariah. You know he came to see me again last week?"
"I could not fail to have noticed."
"Yeah. That f___ing flaming cross was something else. You know what that looks like? A negro carrying a flaming f___ing cross?"
"I believe the mortals were quite surprised."
"Yeah. You think he has any idea what that looks like?"
"I suspect the Primogen may be beyond such concerns."
"You ever gonna tell me what you did to piss them off?"
"It's... possible."
"Heh. It's OK. Ah remember our deal. Ah'm not asking."
Lucius gets up to walk off....
"We ain't calling Luciano. I got a better idea. We got all these neonates popping up... You coming Reggie? We got places to be..."
"Actually, I was planning on making a phone call"
"You can use Blackie's cordless."
"I'm better with the one's with the cords. If that's all right."
"Sure sure use the one on the desk..."
Lucian's voice echoes down the hallway disappearing "So these punks need some kind of object lesson, some clear f___ing sign about what happens if you get outta line..."[/sblock]

<The cover is pulled off.> You see the same, genial Indian face hanging over you. "It is a good thing when each man holds his destiny in his own hands. I am sorry if this hurts."
He picks up the stake from your chest. Biggs last thought as the vampire puts his full body weight onto the stake, driving it back into Biggs heart is that _It really does hurt. A lot._
The world fades to blackness.


----------



## Graf (Dec 26, 2007)

*Archer's Prelude*

The scene continues to be unpleasant.

[sblock=Summary]
Celeste and Frank discuss what is to be done with Archer as Frank ostensibly fumbles and delays setting him on fire.
Key points
*Newly embraced vampires are property
**Normally they are the property of the sire, but only if embraced with permission
**If embraced without permission they are the property of the Prince
*There's something odd about Frank (not a shock I realize)
*Scarman is socially isolated and dislikes LB

Ultimately Celeste decides that killing Archer would be "rash" and has him dumped back in the trunk.[/sblock]

[sblock=The actual events]Archer manages to force himself up on his hands but can't make it much further. Celeste seems oblivious, almost dazed. Her eyes are wild, unfocused. Fangs bared.

"I need a light Frank." Celeste's voice is cold. 

Frank gets out of the car and approaches. "Of course madam. Perhaps you might allow me?" 

"What?"

"You've gotten a touch of gasoline upon yourself as well. Unless you're planning a murder/suicide of course."

"Fine." Archer can see Celeste's bare feet, she's destroyed her shoes kicking him, as she returns to the car.

"I forgot the matches." Frank returns to the car. As Archer sees him lean into the window and start rummaging around in the glove compartment.

Archer can vaguely hear his voice "you know this won't help"

"What? He's gone. The whole thing disappears. It never happened."

"Scarman knows."

Celeste seems to start.

"He won't tell."

"Ah, so he'll forget about tonights events? Our visit. All that."

"I'll ask him not to bring it up," Celeste makes an effort to straighten her hair.

"So you'll go back and say, what, exactly madam? That you killed your child on the side of the road."

"That I took care of it. That I sent him away."

"He'll be dead."

"Stop saying that. It's not a he it's an *it*. It's a damned  mistake. It's *my* mistake. I own it. I can do whatever I want with it."

"It's true. The newly created -are- property," Frank wanders back to the puddle of gasoline and gently nudges the feebly struggling Archer. Archer looks up at Frank.

[sblock=Archer's Sense of Frank]
Archer looks up at Frank, behind the genial servile facade, and the apparent ineptness, he sees something else nebulous and unpleasant. Archer has an overwhelming sense of callous disinterest in Archer's well being; something appallingly alien seems to lurk about the ghoul's eyes.
To Archer's fevered mind he seems to be picking his words with the most deliberate of care.
[/sblock]

"But this fellow,"  the ghoul gently nudges Archer with his shoe, "Created in secret, embraced *without* permission, is not *your* property. He is the prince's property. And destroying him? That would be destroying the prince's property."

"No one knows."

"Scarman knows."

"He won't say anything."

"He may not have told anyone yet," the ghoul allows.

"He doesn't have anyone to tell. No one likes him. It will probably take him a week just to make up his ossified mind about whether or not to help me."

"Of course. Almost certainly true."

"Scarman hates LB. He'd never tell him."

"Of course." The ghoul pauses. " I'll proceed then."

Archer's deliberate, tortured movements have allowed him to see Celeste from the corner of your eye as she slides into the back of the car. She looks straight ahead. A finger to her pursed lips.
There is a quiet, terrifying cracking sound as the ghoul lights a match. If Archer has ever heard a horrifying sound he can't recall it right now. It's followed by a sputtering sound. "Drat!" the ghoul says quietly.

"Wait!"

"I'm sorry madam it's these matches they're quite old and it's a touch breez... I'm sorry... did you say wait?"

"Yes. I'm thinking."

Some time passes. Maybe a minute, maybe five minutes. The smell of the gasoline is overwhelming. Archer can't move, properly, his body is feels twisted, like it's been turned around funny. Perhaps his spine is broken?
Also, dimly, he feels hungry, unbelievably hungry.

"Put it back in the car"

"In the car, Madam?"

"Yes. I've done enough rash things recently."

"Very well."

The old ghoul who struggles to get you wrapped up in a plastic tarp. "In the truck Frank! He stinks."

"Of course Madam, of course." Grunting the ghoul manages to strain Archer into the back of the trunk.[/sblock]


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## Graf (Dec 26, 2007)

*Archer's Prelude*

Archer is returned to Celeste's Haven, where he spends several extraordinarily unpleasant weeks in the wine cellar of the haven (located beyond the kitchen). The room is dark (though he can see in the darkness and bare save for some empty wine racks). He's kept starving, very injured and perpetually frenzying or nearly frenzying while being tended to by Frank.

His sense of time is completely distorted by the experience. He hallucinates, he has conversations with people, etc. etc.

[sblock=Feeding]
Archer is fed through a slot. Once a day. Often after he wakes but sometimes later. 
Frank carefully uses a stick like a shuffleboard cue slides a small saucer of blood in through a slot at the bottom of the door.
Some days Archer manages to control himself and drink the blood, often he falls into frenzy and having rapidly exhausting the blood finds himself clawing and biting at the solid door's little slot.
The worst days are when he frenzies and spills the blood, then he has to get it by licking the blood off the floor.

*No one has told Archer about torpor*. Such as he is able to think about it at all he thinks that going without blood is fatal.[/sblock]

[sblock=Conversations with Frank]
Archer thinks that sometimes he talks to Frank. Or Frank talks to him anyway, with his jaw broken speaking is almost impossible.
They generally center around how wonderful Celeste is. How important and special she is.

You're a rather nasty little mess. But don't worry. The blood oath takes care of all those little messy feelings you may have. Just fall into it. And you'll live forever. 

You can fight it of course, but you'll do what she says anyway. Don't fight it. 

You're quite likable. She was very taken with you initially. She'll probably come to appreciate you again.

She appreciates diligent service. I've been with her a long time, and I'm treated quite well. 

You shouldn't take anything that happened personally. You'll understand. It's how things work for you now. It won't be so bad.

You'll have an important role to play you know. You don't know of course, not yet, but one day you will know.
[/sblock]

In addition to his hallucinations Archer also begins to see auras (i.e. develops Auspex **)


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## Graf (Dec 26, 2007)

*Archer's Prelude*

[sblock=Comment]With no points of Willpower left and having just had the experience he had, I've basically just ruled that Archer goes along with the requests made of him.
I also just skipped Predator's Taint for this scene. Enough going on already.[/sblock]

Leaning over the couch, Archer eyes the elevator door. He's inside the haven, with the big double doors propped open so he can see into the elevator.
He has the Mossberg propped against the couch.

_A few hours ago he'd been in the room, like always. Then it was over.

The door had been opened and he'd been freed into Celeste's waiting arms. Drinking freely from her veins and healing. She'd looked wild, crazed. She'd explained that it had all been a misunderstanding that things got out of hand

Kindred, that's you and me dearest, sometimes go a little bit crazy, She given him a funny laugh -- like it's not funny but she's making it funny. _

The elevator began it's slow ascent. Celeste's apartment was the 12th floor. The top of the building. Archer's fingers had been scratched down to the bone a few minutes ago. But they were healed now. So he could hold a gun.
His teeth weren't healing though. They still throbbed.

_He still remembered what Celeste had said once she'd fed him again. Now though I know how you feel about me and I feel the same way about you . Archer probably felt relieved  I just want you to do one little thing for me. You know a lot about guns don't you. You're a regular expert right? I want you to take some of these guns and when the people come in looking for me I want you to shoot them all and protect me. I'd have Frank do it, but he's a terribly blind. 

And after that we can be together._

The doors slide open. There was no one inside of the elevator. Archer stayed focused on the  elevator. He swore he'd seen someone in the elevator when it first opened. But he'd blinked and there was nothing there.

There was a flicker of light up on the ceiling. Archer instinctively looked up. Something was carved into the fancy wooden paneling above the inner doorway to the haven proper. A mark. Light flashed downward illuminating a figure in a trenchcoat. 

She cursed.
Archer fired.

Someone pounced on Archer from behind.
Archer caught a glimpse of a bald gray head and scarf wrapped face.

The woman had her arms around him then. Tiny little arms; impossibly strong. Archer felt ribs crack. 

"Find her!" the woman bellowed.
"He was going to..."
"Just find her!"

There was a ding from the elevator. The doors closed.

"Take him!"With a snarl and a curse the woman threw Archer into the man-in-the-red-scarf.

Archer staggered to his feet and pulled the holdout from his pocket.

The red-scarf tackled him though and they rolled around the floor. Archer can see the elevator doors have been pushed in.

Red-scarf is stronger and unhurt and eventually Archer is knocked unconscious when his head is repeatedly slammed him against the floor.

[sblock=Comment]Invisible Castle would, of course go down now... 
Shooting is 
Born into Darkness|Archer's Prelude|Archer shoots at Blackcoat Fire + Dex + Weapon (20gage)(2+2+4=8) -2* = 6 | *=Celerity

Nice tackling Archer is probably Str + Brawl (7d) (no defense since he's Obfuscated)
Blackcoat kicking Archer is 14-2 (Archer's defense)


[/sblock]


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## Graf (Dec 26, 2007)

*Archer's Prelude*

The city has few large skyscrapers, jutting up among the ramble of lower urban buildings. 

Archer is sitting in an office in one of them. 

A glass paneled wall shows a majestic view of the night skyline. 

The frantic battle at Celeste's haven was two nights ago. Last night Archer woke in a room, with a large amount of blood in a basin. After he fed and rested he was briefly interviewed by a polite Indian man with a paunch and a bald spot. A vampire.
The conversation was general, the Indian man seemed to be apprised of the generalities of Archer's situation and didn't probe.
The Indian man, who introduced himself as Raghunandan, confirmed information Archer was generally familiar with but put off details specifics.
You have all of eternity to ponder these sorts of questions. Don't rush into it tonight.

Questions about Celeste result in a non-commital
You'll discuss those things with the Prince, he's busy right now but I expect he will be able to make some time for you in the next few days.


[sblock=general information]
Information includes basic vampiric information (ex: frenzy when angered or when hungry and exposed to blood, sunlight kills, etc) and City information (LB is the Prince; newly created vampires are usually owned by their sires)[/sblock]

Tonight Archer was lead down a long corridor to this room. The man in the red scarf, who he struggled with during the other night at Celeste's is leaning casually against the window at the end of the corridor. The scarf covering the bottom part of his face masks his features but the interest in his eyes is unmistakable as he regarded Archer.

A massive wooden desk dominates the room. Behind it sits a tall man, another vampire, dressed in a dated suit, cowboy boots and a open collared shirt.
*LB* gestures for Archer to take a seat in a comfortable leather chair facing the desk.

The short woman from the prior night struggle is also here. Wearing the same, or very similar clothing. She leans against the wall behind Archer's chair.

Raghunandan is also present. Sitting at another chair further along the room.

"So, you're Celeste's huh?" The Prince leans over the desk on his elbows looking directly at Archer.


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## Festy_Dog (Dec 26, 2007)

Archer felt like sht. Not physically, but mentally. He had no interest in trying to escape, but he noticed that the short woman had positioned herself well had he intended to try anything. Between the fuzzy memories recalled from Frank's discussion with Celeste over killing Archer and Raghunandan's presence, Archer had a vague idea of what was taking place. He theorized his existence depended on his answers.



			
				Graf said:
			
		

> "So, you're Celeste's huh?" The Prince leans over the desk on his elbows looking directly at Archer.




Admitting as much would get Celeste into trouble, but everyone in the room knew the answer anyway. Archer may have been blood bonded, but he wasn't stupid.

"Yes, sir," saying it pained him, and as much as his vampiric existence thus far had been unpleasant he wasn't fond of the alternatives.


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## Graf (Dec 27, 2007)

LB nods portentously, as if this were some piece of new information he'd just discovered.

"She tell youh what she was gonna do to youh. Was gonna embrace youh?"

"Embracing 's jus a fancy word we vampiah's use. We got lotsa that c___. Ah say anything you don't undahstand youh just let me know. We don't want any misundahstandings."

LB smiles at you, a sort of determined grimace. For a second the whole room seems still, like it's a painting where all the lines point at LB as a central radiant figure.

[sblock=LB's Awe]
LB generated 4 successes on an attempt to _awe_ Archer. 
He'll be using his ginormous amount of dice to encourage Archer to be honest and get him to relax this scene. (Not gonna roll it, just fyi).[/sblock]


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## Festy_Dog (Dec 27, 2007)

Archer was unsure of what to say next. He had started with the truth but could he say anything to Celeste's benefit? How much did they actually know? The Prince came across as being quite a reasonable guy thus far, and something about him gave Archer the impression that honesty would work best.

"Thankyou," the offer to explain things, from the Prince no less, was very much valued indeed, "I was not informed of anything prior to my embrace."

Archer made his responses as straight forward as he could.


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## Graf (Dec 27, 2007)

*Archer's Prelude*

[sblock=Archer's Read on the situation]
Archer can't seem to get a clear read on the situation.[/sblock]

LB pushes his chair back and slowly swivels around. He's leaned far back and staring at the ceiling.
"Now, youh see. This puts me in a bit of a spot. You seem like a reasonable sort of fella. Some folks, lotta folks, would say you're the fruit of a poisoned tree. Ought to be trimmed. That sorta thing."

LB comes up from his reclining position arms wide. "But that don't seem fair tah me. An' conveniently for you, in this city what Ah say goes."

"So ah ain't gonna kill youh. Or have youh torpah'd or anything else."

[sblock=LB's read of Archer]
My arbitrary ruling is that 3 successes is enough to pick out responses on a fairly granular level[/sblock].

"She ain't told you about Torpah?" LB looks down at his desk and shakes his head. "Reggie?"

The Indian man sitting in on a sofa off to the side has been attentively following the conversation. He nods at his name.

 He gestures a massive paw like hand at "Reggie", "Reggie here's gonna explain to youh. The basics. Sunlight 'n Fiah and what have not."

"OK so anyway. You just...."
He glances back and up at something behind Archer.

"Oh, right. Youh actually pretty lucky. You've been embraced into the Invictahs.
We may not be popular, but we rule the world son. Welcome to the f______ club. "


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## Festy_Dog (Dec 30, 2007)

Graf said:
			
		

> "Now, youh see. This puts me in a bit of a spot. You seem like a reasonable sort of fella. Some folks, lotta folks, would say you're the fruit of a poisoned tree. Ought to be trimmed. That sorta thing."




Honesty fought with a desire for self preservation. Despite all she'd put him through, for some reason unbeknownst to Archer, he still felt loyal to Celeste. It defied reason, something he could never tolerate, and yet he did now.

Archer kept his mouth shut, resolute in finding a solution of his own to the conflict of interest.



			
				Graf said:
			
		

> "Oh, right. Youh actually pretty lucky. You've been embraced into the Invictahs. We may not be popular, but we rule the world son. Welcome to the f______ club."




At this Archer was able to manage a smile, and a respectful nod of the head. It was quite a welcome. Archer wasn't entirely sure about what the Invictus represented, he had never been taught terribly much. Prior to now his only example of what the Invictus were was Celeste, which didn't work out terribly well, but the Prince had left a positive impression on him and if he was Invictus perhaps there was something to like about the group.


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## Graf (Dec 30, 2007)

*Archer's Prelude*

LB nods, smiling. He gets up and walks around his desk, speaking.

"Lot's of folks would kill to be in your position. You're a member of the ruling Covenant. You got no sire to answer to. You got to answer to me, course." LB gives you a long look as he circles the desk "but everybody's got to do that. And I don't play favorites." 

He stops when he reaches the front of the desk leaning against it and looking at Archer "anybody tells you I play favorites they're a dirty liar. 'cause I don't."

"Anyway... lots of folks's'd give their fangs to be in your position." He gives Archer a genial smile.

"Heck," LB's voice is drawn out, with an air of extreme casualness. "You even got yourself a first rate guide to the damned. Fella named Scarman, or Lord Scarman to be proper I guess. He's heard how you were treated and he's quite....," he glances at something behind Archer's head, " apalled, right, _terribly apalled_ at how you were embraced, treated, 'n so forth. Insists you get a proper introduction to the whole thing."
In another person Archer would imagine this discussion of Scarman would be tinged with mockery but LB seems to be positively overflowing with sincerety.

"Anyway Just visit Lord Scarman once  a week or so; he'll show you the ins-and-outs of the Kindred. "
LB's face, normally animate, is completely neutral and devoid of expression. From the decisive way that he walks back to behind his desk Archer gets the impression that he has been dismissed.


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## Festy_Dog (Jan 1, 2008)

Archer dabbed at the corners of his mouth with a tissue. It came away red with blood, and he became slightly concerned that his teeth were probably now stained with his own vitae.

"I feel quite fortunate. Thankyou," the Prince appeared to consider running his domain fairly one of his highest priorities, something Archer respected.



			
				Graf said:
			
		

> "Anyway Just visit Lord Scarman once a week or so; he'll show you the ins-and-outs of the Kindred."
> LB's face, normally animate, is completely neutral and devoid of expression. From the decisive way that he walks back to behind his desk Archer gets the impression that he has been dismissed.




Scarman. Archer could remember Scarman. He seemed a little eccentric, and Archer couldn't help but wonder what motives would bring Scarman to take an inexperienced vampire such as himself under his wing. He had already begun trying to connect the dots in his head, using what he could remember for clues. All he could think of was Scarman trying to show up Celeste by taking the childe she had rejected and building him up. A problematic scenario for Archer.

What did LB know? What didn't he know? Was he aware of the Celeste's and Scarman's interaction that led to the beginning of... Well, that was beside the point. Archer would find the answer once he crossed paths with Scarman.

"Thankyou for your time, LB, and your assistance. I am in your debt," Archer stood, and looked around the room to the others present.

If no one else had anything to add he would wait outside for further instructions on what to do.


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## Graf (Jan 2, 2008)

Festy_Dog said:
			
		

> "I feel quite fortunate. Thankyou,"



*LB *smiles magnanimously. 

As *Archer* leaves the room *LB* gives him one final remark.

"Oh and if *Celeste *contacts youh, or youh get any of them "creepy-crawly" feelings about where she is, or what she's doing you be sure to tell *Blackie* here. If I find out you have and you haven't ah'll do to you what ah plan on doing to her."
*Archer *sees sees a serious and reproving look on *LB*'s face when he glances back from the doorway. 

After the door closes behind him *Archer* is left in the dark of the corridor beyond. With unaugmented hearing he can pick out the murmur of continued conversation in the room.


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## Festy_Dog (Jan 2, 2008)

Archer (if he has realised he can sharpen senses of his own volition) sharpens his hearing in order to continue listening in on the conversation. He stands out of the way in such as to appear to be patiently waiting for someone to give him directions or tell him to return to the room he was previously occupying.


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## Graf (Jan 3, 2008)

*Archer's Prelude*

*Outside LB's Office*

*Archer *deftly raises his senses; 'tuning in' to the conversation beyond the door.

"S___ if Ah know." *LB* is saying "*Scarman *says she's a traitor so I've got's to do something... severe. What'd youh think ah should do?"
"Give her to *Scarman*" *Blackcoat*'s voice is flat
"What do you think he'll do?"
"Hunt her?"
"Huh. Remind me not to get on his bad side."
"He already hates you."
"Hell *Blackie*! Ah know that. Youh don't have to remind me. Man ah liked you better when youh had a sense o' humor."

"First ouah mummy friend, an' then this hunta, an' now *Celeste *goes nuts. This ain't a coincidence. It ain't. Something's up."

"OK. Put the word out. Tell everyone. They got 24 hours to turn over any unannounced neonates to youh. Or any new ghouls, or any _anything_. I mean... _any_ f______ thing. Otherwise, Ah put them, and their sire and their ghouls and their childer, Ah mean everyone they know, Ah put them in a hole and they watch the sun rise. And nobody comes out out of that hole. Ah mean ever. After a month I'll..." *LB*'s voice takes on a resonant tone, like he's making a speech 

"... concrete! The whole thing. They'll all sit down in a hole together and then a month later ah'll concrete the whole thing and a thousand years from now people'll digging them and be wondering what they did to piss somebody of as bad as the done pissed me off!"

And ah mean every f______ one. Vampiah, every ghoul," *LB* seems struggle to find words "Ah mean every f______ one. Ah want them f______ ghoul f______ flowers that f______ ponce makes to f______ know.

*Archer *barely manages to pick out the tell-tail _squeak_ of combat boots on the floor over the sound of LB's ranting. He's moved down the hallway before *Blackcoat *bursts through the door off the office and rushes down the hallway.

And them f______ spiders of his too!" *LB*'s bellow echoes down the hall.

*Archer *slips into his room as the diminutive woman stomps past. With his senses turned up he realizes that he doesn't hear the distinctive sound of the elevator being summoned. In fact, he doesn't hear anything at all. Blackcoat seems to have simply disappeared.


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## Festy_Dog (Jan 3, 2008)

Ghouls? Spiders? There was a lot Archer didn't know. He poked his head out of the door to his room, curious as to where the Sheriff had gone if it wasn't the elevator.

Afterwards he sat in his room and pondered his next move. Celeste sounded like she was in some deep sht. Archer wanted to help out a woman who couldn't stand the sight of him, thus risking the wrath of a powerful man under a lot of stress who in all the apparent chaos of the present gave Archer a chance, and spared his life, when by the sound of him it would have been a lot simpler to throw Archer into a hole and concrete it over.

Some of it made sense, not his own actions but at least it was something. Archer was under the impression he was alive because he might have had value to LB. According to LB, Celeste's present actions were very much out of character. Archer theorized that he perhaps held the answer to Celeste's behaviour, giving him reason to not already be dead. If only Archer could figure out the answer himself, but he didn't know nearly enough about himself or his new existence to say anything for certain. He shook his head and gave a slightly gurgled groan of frustration. What he wanted to do didn't make sense to himself.

Patience. Patience was the key. He knew nothing and too much was happening. He would let himself learn the pieces of the game as they fell into place, then he could make his own move once he understood all the factors at play.


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## Bloodweaver1 (Jan 3, 2008)

*Cole Braddock*

“Well I’ll be a son of a motherless goat. Fitzroy and Lamb.” He says with a smile as his eyes drift from the sign down to the shop’s windows. The old smuggler stands out in front of the shop as his mind drifts back to a more familiar time. It is not long before he returns to the present and with his smile still on his face he enters the establishment.


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## Graf (Jan 4, 2008)

As Cole makes to go into the building the driver of the car honks loudly behind him. Cole decides not to push his luck with LB just yet and returns to the vehicle.

[sblock=Blood]
Sorry about forcing the close. Please see this post.[/sblock]


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## Graf (Jan 24, 2008)

*Nocturn -- Diego meets his clan*

*Night Two -- Diego*​
As you move he talks. *Blackcoat*'s away now so it's good to get things sorted out. There's actually a way to tell if you're a Nosferatu, at least in principal. Nobody's idea of a good time really but we need to get this whole thing sorted out.
Nice's tone is conversational.

Nice guides you through the ruined mansion, through the foyer, up a grand flight of decrepit stairs to the second floor, and down a creaking unlit hallway to a small meeting room. *Oscar *is waiting for you at a bend in the corridor and gamely follows behind grinning.

Once you get to the small meeting room, *Nice *says "OK. We're in the clear."

Almost instantly two men appear, one small and lean, the other big. Dressed in leather and jeans, they look like roadies for the Sex Pistols. If the Sex Pistols employed members of the carnival freakshow as roadies.
The lean one has huge ears, small fat eyes needle-like teeth and an immense black mohawk. He's maybe 1.5m (less than 5 feet tall) (1.7m with the mohawk).
The big one is simian in appearance, huge arms hang down to his knees, he has an immense pig-like nose studded with piercings. Most of his clothing is trashy and similarly covered in studs.
Their physical deformities suggest they're vampires, but your beast is oddly quiescent.

*Snicker*, *Nice *gestures to the lean one, and *Gorilla*. 
*Snicker *nods at *Diego *but don't speak. 
*Gorilla *remains squatting on the ground resting a massive arm on a knee.

OK... I guess that's it. *Nice *says.

Not quite says a voice behind you. The voice is warm and extremely deep.

Entering the room from behind you is a distinguished looking black gentleman in an extremely nice charcoal suit.

Sucker! *Nice *seems slightly startled by the new arrival.

*Nice*, *Snicker*, *Gorilla*, *Oscar*, the man strolls into the room greeting people by turns, and you would be our new fledgling, *Diego*. The black man proffers a hand to *Diego*.

Close up the thief can see that his ebony skin is completely covered in some sort of growth. Irregular flanges of skin jut up from all angles, twisting about. His head, as bald as nices, seems to be a study in irregular shapes.


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## OnlytheStrong (Jan 24, 2008)

"Nice names ya'll have. I will just assume you earned them all." Diego grasps the offered hand without a moments hesitation. He figured he was a vampire, wasn't he supposed to regenerate and heal? "Don't mean to sound rude to ya'll, but can someone please explain what is going on. And exactly how much trouble is Vanderchild in?"


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## Graf (Jan 24, 2008)

*Sucker*'s grip is firm. We're here, my boy, to ascertain whether you're Nosferatu or not. Answers to your questions depend, I'm afraid, very much on the answer of that question.

*Sucker *glances around the room. I hope no one minds if I assert the prerogative of age?

There is much shaking of heads.

Then I'm afraid I'll have to taste your blood. *Sucker *produces a small silver dish and a steel knife apparently from thin air. Just a drop will do. You'll have to focus to cause the blood to flow.

He offers *Diego *the bowl and knife.


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## OnlytheStrong (Jan 24, 2008)

Diego takes the knife and smoothly cuts a diagonal line across his wrist. He stares shocked as nothing much comes out at all. Closing his eyes, he concentrates like Sucker told him to, gradually he can feel the blood start to flow.


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## Graf (Jan 24, 2008)

*Sucker *sniffs the warm blood like a rich man sniffing a glass of wine at an expensive restaurant. Then he drinks.

After a long moment of consideration he says. Nosferatu. Most definitely.

*Oscar *lets out a whoop.
*Nice *pats you on the back, "OK. That's done." he sounds relieved.
*Snicker *ambles over to greet you with a clasped arm. *Gorilla *alone doesn't move much, favoring you with an uncomfortable looking grin.

Names, names names. *Sucker*'s resonant voice roles around the room. Very important to us here in the city and they are all earned in one way or another. He looks over at *Nice *with an inquisitive look.

I didn't know you know. He looks normal, so I wasn't sure.

You're sure now?

Of course. Yeah. It's great. It being short notice I didn't think anybody would come. Not of your stature you know. I can't get *Charity *to come out here even with *LB*'s say so.

Naturally, difficult times offer opportunities. I plan on taking full advantage of the current confusion myself. *Sucker *pauses, but clan business is first.

*Sucker *returns his attention to *Diego*. To answer your questions, yes, names are earned, or bestowed, rather by the members of our brotherhood. The Nosferatu of this city are unique, in my opinion of all the Nosferatu in any city on this continent, in the degree of importance we place upon our clan ties.

This tradition dates back to the arrival of *Parovich*, some fifty years ago. He saw an opportunity to do something here that had not been done before, at least not successfully. To create a place where Nosferatu, no matter the nature of their curse, could exist, as a group, comfortably. 

To that end he encouraged us to develop our own culture bestow upon each other pseudonyms, to be used by the brotherhood to address each other. Thus, I, who am generally called *Al Freeman*, Master of Nightmare, and other fancier sounding things by the other members of the Invictus, am referred to as "Sucker" by my compatriots.

Most of our younger members, he waves an arm around the room, have cast of their mortal identities completely going only by the nom de guerres.


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## OnlytheStrong (Jan 24, 2008)

"Invictus? What's that?"


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## Graf (Jan 24, 2008)

OnlytheStrong said:
			
		

> "Invictus? What's that?"



The Invictus is a covenant, a sort of club if you will. I believe I am singular among the Nosferatu of the City in that I am a member of a covenant. Since the Invictus rule this City one could argue that everyone is a member. 

*Sucker* shrugs.

At any rate I am Invictus of some standing. My domain is that of politics and government. The aforementioned Charity, a Ventrue, oversees banking and finance.


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## OnlytheStrong (Jan 24, 2008)

"Interesting...... so the roots of this little organization are deep. Kinda makes a guy wonder how many kindred he's met when he was mortal." Diego scratches his chin, "How do I learn these powers I keep seeing people use? I hate not knowing things." he laughs lightly, unsure on how this group would respond to his comments.


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## Graf (Jan 25, 2008)

We are all brothers here, says *Sucker *agreeably. Our little society within a society has a few unspoken rules, but we aren't the sorts to hold someone who doesn't know about them to them.

And they don't apply to conversation. *Parovich *felt that everyone should have a voice. I'm sure that sounds normal to you, but when he was advocating this idea fifty years ago... lets just say I couldn't get into any of the Prince's country clubs without using obfuscate. It was a radical concept, almost Carthian in nature, but expressed in the language of tolerance, instead of violence.
[sblock=Sucker spins a good yarn but... ]Diego isn't impressed.

(or rather, unless you choose to have Diego be impressed by it, Diego is not impressed)[/sblock]

Disciplines are usually taught to you by your sire. Which brings us back to the matter you raised initially, this *Van-der-child*. *Sucker *hits every syllable of your sire's name.


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## OnlytheStrong (Jan 25, 2008)

Diego ignores the little history lesson Sucker just bothered him with, and concentrates on his last sentence. "What about Vanderchild? I assume he is going to die or worse." Diego shrugs, he hated that odd guy anyway. "So I am assuming one of you are going to take me in, or claim me rather."


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## Graf (Jan 25, 2008)

Everyone looks at *Sucker*.

*Sucker *looks at *Nice*.

Tell me you've heard of this guy.

I am afraid not.

He seems to remember meeting the guy. *Nice *gestures to *Diego  *Interacting with him. But a lot of these neonates have been dominated. I think. At least half.  *Nice *is sitting in a chair now rubbing his head.

*Sucker *crosses his arms in thought, after a moment he looks over at *Diego*. If this Vanderchild is unannounced in the city and sired you then he will most probably be destroyed.

The whole thing stinks. He came -here- yesterday night. Right when LB having other neonates here. But he thought it was some sort of party.

[sblock=OOC]Though it's hard not to doubt yourself in this situation Diego remembers plenty of specific details, what Vanderchild looked like (older, thick blond hair, vaguely good looking,), where he lived (a nice brownstone in a quiet residential area), what he was like (distracted, aggressive, belligerent, vaguely effeminate) and so forth.[/sblock]


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## OnlytheStrong (Jan 25, 2008)

"Well , I'm not fer wantin' to lose what little I have already. At least not until I do something to screw things up. I didn't ask to be turned man." Diego spends the next few minutes spilling his guts, pouring out every tiny detail he can remember. When he completes his tale he adds, "Hell, I'll help hunt the guy if that will make me stay alive longer."


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## Graf (Jan 25, 2008)

*Sucker *looks at *Nice*.

I can't take him out tonight. I gotta find me a Gangrel.

*Sucker * raises an eyebrow and looks over at *Snicker*.

We've got time for clan business, *Snicker *seems to speak for *Gorilla *as well.

I can help! Oscar chimes in from the courner.

No man, you gotta keep an eye on them. They already out of their cells. We have a bunch of neonates running around right now, it's gonna get messy. Messier.

Good. It's settled. Snicker and Gorilla are veterans. You'll be in in good hands.

Sucker regards Nice for a moment. What's this about a Gangrel?

Somebody embraced a hunter.

I'd heard.

Yeah, well, he's Gangrel. Probably. So you know, I'd be good to have some kinda explanation for you know...

A visting Gangrel?

Yeah.

To go with our undetected Nosferatu? It seems unlikely... Why not someone local? What about *Miles Merchant*?

I thought there were just the three of them? Nice brightens up considerably. 

Hey yeah. *Merchant*. He's another guy. First war vet. Was good during the Lupine thing.  *Snicker *rejoins the conversation.


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## OnlytheStrong (Jan 25, 2008)

"So what's gonna happen to me? Oh and don't worry about them getting out of the cells, they can't yet. At least not that I know of. I picked my own lock, reminded me too much of prison." Diego looks around at the group, still somewhat surprised by seeing vampires. "I'd like to help out if I can. At least start to get my feet wet."


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## Graf (Jan 26, 2008)

That is the question, isnt it. *Sucker* looks over at Nice. 
I'm working it. Blackcoat is still saying she wants to just stick the whole lot in the crypt. I don't know where *LB* is. 

Nice looks at Sucker. 
I'll talk to him. See if he is willing to look at the potential upsides. 
*Sucker* looks at *Diego* 
We will insure you will not be destroyed. Go with Snicker and Gorilla and guide them to Vanderchild.


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## OnlytheStrong (Jan 26, 2008)

Diego nods, "This is the part where most people say, 'I'll to what I can" but that isn't really good enough for me. I will find him for you."



ooc: I assume Diego knows where Vanderchild is.  He will lead them directly to his house.


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## Graf (Jan 27, 2008)

The young man seems understandably anxious to proceed, *Sucker* gestures. 

*Snicker* nods and he and *Gorilla* start to amble out of the room.

Just make sure he's back before too long. Nice says, And no introducing him to stuff. Please?

No problem, man. There and back again, right 'rilla?
_hng_ says *Gorilla*.

As *Diego* follows *Gorilla* and *Snicker* out of the room he hears *Nice* say OK. Where can I find this Merchant?

*Snicker* and *Gorilla* lead *Diego* down out of the house, and off into the woods.

So, you got any disciplines yet?


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## OnlytheStrong (Jan 28, 2008)

"Those are the "powers" right? Nah, I don't know how to do any of them yet."


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## Graf (Jan 28, 2008)

Really? This Vader-dude didn't show you how to connect to the force huh? That's a no go. Right?
hngh, *Gorilla *chuffs in agreement.

Well, you're Nos. That means we got some choices. But really, no Nos worth his salt can get away without knowing some Obfuscate.

_Touch of Shadow_'s the first level. You can make stuff disappear. Here.
*Snicker *stops walking for a moment. The air is still. He pulls out a long bowie knife, Knife right?

He holds his hand out in front of you, the knife catches the moonlight.
*Diego *blinks. The knife is gone. It looks like *Snicker *is just holding out a fist.

[sblock=Diego Larceny]Diego is sure there wasn't any slight of hand. Unless *Snicker *can move faster than the eye can see.
Of course. The knife is still gone. It's an odd sensation.[/sblock]

Knife's still there. Put out your hand to touch it.

*Diego *reaches out, but the knife bladed isn't there anymore.
OK. Keep your hand still. And lower your head.

*Diego *moves his head down.

See? You're hand's not where the blade is. Or where it was. It's a bit higher.

*Diego *squints, _is my hand a bit higher than the knife blade?_ 
*Diego *feels uncharactaristically unsure.

Try to move your hand down.
*Diego *pulls his hand down, but it just passes through empty air.

You pulled back just there. *Gorilla*, help the man out.

*Gorilla *_snorts_  and takes your hand in a massive paw. It's hard not to think about how unnaturally long the Nosferatu's forearm is, how big his sloped forehead seems to be. It's like you're hanging out with a statue from the Primitive Man exhibit at the natural history museum. 

*Gorilla *firmly guides your hand forward. *Diego *feels himself trying to pull away , but his grip is powerful.

*Diego *contacts cold steel. The knife blade is suddenly visible. *Snicker*'s hand hasn't moved.

So, what have you learned?


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## OnlytheStrong (Jan 28, 2008)

Diego looked at the two men and laughed, "You just showed me two things: shaving is going to be a bitch, and you guys are more dangerous than I thought." Diego pulls his own knife and focus' as hard as he can on the blade............ and nothing happens. "Okay, is this like the Matrix? There is no spoon and all that? How the hell do I do this?"


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## Graf (Jan 28, 2008)

*Snicker *grins. Motivated is cool. You gotta get psyched. But you gotta know what you're doing too.

*Gorilla *chuffs, _Mind_.
Yeah, that's what you gotta understand. All disciplines are one of two things; some are physical, but lots of disciplines, they're all mental. It's all mind tricks.

The knife doesn't go anywhere. My man could move your hand into the knife because he could see it. Even if you think you know where it is, my  mojo is telling your mind i_t's not there, it's not there_. You're eyes see it but your brain doesn't process it. You try to touch it, and your own mind becomes your enemy, it tells your hand to move out of the way, but it shows your hand moving straight.

So, first thing: Don't think about the knife.
Think about who you wanna mess with.

That's the ticket. You wanna mess with my mind. You wanna hide it from me. You gotta get into my head.


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## OnlytheStrong (Jan 28, 2008)

Diego smiles, _Sort of like the mind games I used to play..._  He concentrates as hard as he can, focusing not on the knife in his hand but the air around it. He thinks of the people looking at the knife, for a brief moment he swears he can feel what they can see. His eyes never leave the knife, it would have to be their reactions that tell him if he has done it..............


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## Graf (Jan 28, 2008)

*Forest near Blackcoats*

*Diego *feels himself pushing, he's dimly aware of holding his breath, but he doesn't need to breath... there's resistance.... _push through it_... 

The knife looks the same, but their expressions suggest otherwise.

Bravo chuffs Gorilla.
Man's a natural! *Snicker *claps *Diego *on the back. Took *'rilla* here weeks to do that.
Hnph, *Gorilla* snorts took you months.

But I was working on _vigor_...


*Snicker* briefly explains the other disciplines. So Obfuscate is really defense. It doesn't take blood to use; and you can disappear without worrying about who you're dealing with. Take LB, he's got no Auspex, you can disappear in front of him as easily as any mortal, basically. Nightmare is great, lots of folks use it, but a lot of it's higher powers require effort you know. I mean, you _shatter somebody's mind_ they know you done them in, but you can't do that all night.
_Mortal Fear_ rocks.*Gorilla *chuffs.
Yeah yeah. OK. So you eventually you can kill somebody by looking at them. Which is awesome. But hell, you know, don't work on kindred, can't scare a dead man dead you know.
And _Vigor_'s where it's at when you gotta make a mark. When you absolutely positively have to get a stake into some dude? _Vigor_'s your friend. *Snicker *curls a skinny little arm. I don't look like much, but when it comes down to it I got it; takes a bit of blood to get going. You gotta prime the spigot to get the power flowing.

_Sissy._*Gorilla * snorts.
Course, when you add _vigor _to natural assets is when it gets wrong. My boy here can wrestle a bear and drink it dry.

The three continue to walk through the forest, getting filled in on what *Diego* knows about *Vanderchild*. After an hour or so of trekking through the woods you come out into a clearing. A black van, with darkened windows sits there. 

So this *Vanderchild *lives over in Ashton Hill? Weird. Right near *Sicko*'s. You'd think we'd met the guy.


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## Graf (Jan 29, 2008)

Please see the roadmap for the rest of night two.


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## OnlytheStrong (Jan 29, 2008)

"Who's Sicko? Anyway....teach me more tricks. It would help with my rather.... tricky side."


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## Graf (Jan 29, 2008)

*Gorilla *pulls open the side of the decrepit van before getting into the passenger seat. The back of the van is strewn with trash but otherwise bare, there is a tattered leather jacket in one corner. 

*Sicko*? Who's *sicko*? Man *Nice *has -got- to get with the program. That is key info...
Gorilla thumps Snicker on the shoulder, Wasn't sure.
Oh yeah, right. Well, now you're Nosferatu confirmed and that means you need to know.

OK. Here's the scoop, Nos has a vertical kinda system.
Heirarchy.
Right. Hierarchy. *Sucker*'s right that you can talk and stuff, and you should you know. But you got to respect it.

Anyway at the top is *Parovich*, who basically set the whole thing up. Hell, he's the one that brought *LB *into the city in the first place. 
*LB*'s the prince now, but *Parovich *backed him. And we back *Parovich*. And we're like, half the city. Basically, we pick the prince.
But *Parovich*'s asleep now, in torpor, and he's old, really old. And really powerful, you know. So he'll probably sleep for decades, maybe? Minimum another ten, twenty years.

So when he goes down *Parovich *wants the Brotherhood to keep up, but he won't pick a system. He's like the people must decide. But we've been with Parovich for so long that we're just thinking _I'll be like before_. Nobody wants to be too pushy. So eventually, right we wind up with a few guys who want to stand in for *Parovich*. Luciano is one and Brodi is another.
They ran stuff for *Parovich*, cause *LB *gave *Parovich *the domain of crime, which is huge, and so they each had their own gangs already.

*Snicker *turns around to look at you, "You know, you think crime is like, mugging people, or whatever. It's not. It's paperwork.Who has the money? Where did the drugs go? On and on and on."

*Snicker *turns back to the road.

So, for some of us, that wasn't so cool. You know. We're not mortals anymore, we don't want to spend all our time dealing with mortal crap.
Most of us came here because we were sick of that, we wanted to experience the requiems as ourselves.
Anyway, about five years after *Parovich *slips into torpor shits bad. You know, your under *Brodi*, or *Luciano*, and they're really into that mobster thing right? So every night it's like "pick this up" "beat that guy up".[/COLOR]
Follow this guy and report back to me.
Yeah, totally. Like we're accountants you know.

The van makes it's way through darkened streets.

Anyway five years ago *Sicko *turns up. He's got this guy with him *'face*, who's something else. 
Archetypes.
*Gorilla *man, we gotta keep the basics. We get onto archetypes and stuff and we'll be here all night. Anyway they look like characters right, out of a movie or something. But it's deliberate.
And the Don's say you have to pick sides.
And *Sicko *says, I came her to serve an idea. 
So they get all pissed at him and Luciano says that he can stay in Nosferatu territory, which is the east side from Burbank down to Dennison, but not in his territory; which is half of Nosferatu territory, basically. 
[sblock=The East Side]The "east side from Burbank down to Dennison" is a massive swath of land. It's close to a third of the city, comprising the rusted industrial section, several artists communities, residential neighborhoods, some industrial land, and all the lakes side including the docks. The only thing it doesn't have is much suburban or rural space -- because it runs into the lake proper. Only in on the North Shore.([/sblock]
And *Brodi*, of course, says the same thing. And *Brodi *controls the other half of the terrorists. I mean, literally like half. They actually were trying to mark it off for a while.

So it's like *Sicko *can't stay anywhere. So he says you've claimed every street, every building every shop for yourselves, so I shall dwell in the ancestral homeland of all Nosferatu. And he disappears.

And Luciano and them are saying that he's gone, but you know, he keeps turning up, for meetings or whatever.
So where's he staying?
In the sewers...
...under *Luciano*'s house.

And so *Luciano *gets all pissed. And he sends a squad of mobsters after him. So all these mob guys go down, and like a whole squad of his toughest guys right. But with guns, you know? Stupid right? But that's Luciano.
So *Sicko *and *'face* just take out the whole lot. Right. But he doesn't kill them. Instead what does he do?
Shakespeare.
Shakespeare! So he's got these Italian guys, down in the sewer. And I mean, like serious, mafia types and they don't know anything about culture, I mean, I'm not the brighest guy on the block but these guys are really blockheads. And none of them know Shakespear he's like "you're worthless mortals, but I can't kill you until you've experienced some form of art". So he's making them do Shakespeare. And he doesn't move, so they're still in the sewer under *Luciano*'s house.

Anyway one guy escapes and comes out and he tells *Luciano*. And *Luciano *doesn't know what to do. I mean. He's lost like a dozen mortal lieutenants, *Brodi *wants to take over his operation, and he's got this like Shakespearean play going on under his house.
So he asks us to go down, and we say that that we don't do Nosferatu. Cause that's the rule, you wanna be a dick with that Danse Macabe stuff fine. But Nos don't do other Nos. Period. But he's all it's a misunderstanding. Right. So we go down.[/COLOR]

So we go down and things get sorted out basically. Luciano tries to play hardball, offering Sicko stuff, but Sicko doesn't want that sort of thing. And so he finishes his play and moves to the old Clark St station.
[sblock=Clark St station]Diego knows the Clark St Station is an abandoned train station, from an aborted rail line near the financial district.[/sblock]
And *Luciano *wants 'face to "serve him" or whatever, but 'face like, basically, throws him through a wall. Which is normally not OK but, whatever, he can't speak and *Luciano *wasn't getting the picture.

But *Luciano*, right, can't cope with things so he insists that *'face* serves *Sicko*. Or whatever. Cause he's really into this don thing and having everybody under somebody.
So then Sicko's a don right? Effectively, because he's been recognized.

So what happens?
Exodus.
Exactly. And exodus. Suddenly all the Nosferatu are under Sicko. You know, because Sickos into being a vampire and doesn't care about mortals, and paperwork and money.
And Luciano's like, you'll have to live in the sewers!
And you know what?
Fine.
Exactly. We're fine with that. Because we're Nosferatu, and we dig the sewers.
So now, we all serve *Sicko*, and his instructions.

Be true to thine own self.
Exactly. Except *Nice*, whose stuck being *LB*'s bitch. He gets props for that by the way. Nobody'd say it to his face but he does good for us. Stuff like getting you out of those cells tonight? Nice's a solder. But he's still LB's bitch. But you don't get to call him that.. 
*Sucker*.
And *Sucker*, of course. Sucker's his own man. With the big man in bed he's the conduit. He coulda been a don but he's got to walk the fine line.

[sblock=Nosferatu Clan status]
5: Parovich
4: The Dons (Sicko, Luciano, Brodi)
3: Sucker
2: The Soldiers (Snicker, Gorilla, Nice)
1: All recognized Nosferatu (including Diego)
0: Trigger
[/sblock]

*Snicker *looks over at *Gorilla *. Boy wants to learn some tricks.
Trigger's girl?
You called it my man. 

*Snicker *looks at you. You feeling scary?


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## OnlytheStrong (Jan 29, 2008)

Diego almost busts out in laughter while the two go on their rant. This was amazing. A whole criminal underworld he had probably participated in, but never knew existed. This new life was going to be a freaking blast!

"Always feelin' scary. Oh and don't worry about the heirarchy thing, I know who to talk to and how to talk to em. It's the only way I'm alive now. Well...... sorta alive.

He pauses a moment, the realizes that they said they are near Sicko's, "Don't suppose we can meet Sicko can we? Or is that alittle ahead of ourselves, Nice did say to take it easy with me."


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## Graf (Jan 29, 2008)

Yeah. We might be a bit off the reservation taking you to *Sicko *right now. He's in the middle performing one of his invisible operas.
Not supposed to be visible during the invisible opera.

An' anyway, you go to *Sicko *first and your life gets complex. You know, *Luciano*'ll be all over you, and then if *Luciano*'s around then *Brodi*'s around. 
*LB*
Right. And there's *LB*. Naw. 

Want my advice?  Avoid political s___. Nothing but trouble. Trust me, a decade or two? you'll be up to your elbows in people trying to boss you around and get you involved.
You know who the last neonate to demonstrate a political opinion was?
*Gorilla *chuckles.
Here's a hint. You know him. *Snicker *raises an eyebrow at *Diego*.

He's spent how long?
Twenty.
Twenty freak'n years as *Blackcoat*'s bitch.

Anyway, that's just my suggestion. But you want to meet *Sicko*, just go to the station. He'll be there, or somebody will know where to find him.

The van is ambling along city streets. Eventually it pulls up in front of a small shop. It's still early in the evening and lights are on in the shop.

OK. Pop quiz. When is breaking the first tradition not breaking the first tradition?


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## OnlytheStrong (Jan 29, 2008)

Diego stares at the man dumbfounded........ what kind of question was that? "Um.....I got no idea what your talkin about. What first tradition? You mean the heirarchy?" Diego just looks around and says the first thing that comes to mind, "When the tradition's already broken."


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## Graf (Jan 30, 2008)

Nice didn't mention the first tradition? Wow. *Snicker *looks at *Gorilla*. That's not so OK. I mean. He's gotta get with the program.

OK. The first tradition is like the big rule. Everybody, even people who are stupid, or really really evil, protect the first tradition. 
The Herd Shall Not Know
Right. The herd's bloodbags, mortals, humans whatever you want to call them. They don't know. You don't use disciplines in front of them, or show your vampire side or whatever.

Beating a guy to death with a baseball bat? OK.
Leaving behind bloodless corpses with teeth marks? Not OK.

Good answer.
Huh? Oh yeah. So right, generally the first tradition is super-important
Sacrosanct.
Right OK. Sure Sacro-whatever. But it only applies to mortals. So you pick up a car in front of a mortal and the whole city'll want you dead. You get into a fight with a lupine, that's a werewolf, someplace deserted, and hit him with a big rock? Cool. 

That's why we don't show up in mirrors, or on video, or whatever. Supposedly. Cause the first tradition is like, mystical and breaking it is like a violation of... of...
the natural order?
Sure. OK.

So that chick in there, behind the counter? Not a vampire. Not human either. She's a.... well... just between you and me she's a ghoul.
Now that's a violation of the second tradition. Cause you can't make new vampires or new ghouls. Now the guy who made her, he's a putz.
Young, Gorilla huffs.
He's an idiot. He's made her his ghoul. He's still acting like a mortal. Wants to have a girlfriend, all that noise.

She's not a proper ghoul though. She doesn't protect him during the day, or help him feed or the stuff that ghouls are supposed to do. But if he keeps up with her being his ghoul, then she's gonna get blood bound. And then she'll be following him around, forever.

So we're gonna help her, help his ass, by showing her that maybe she doesn't want to be a ghoul no more. But, you know, not so much as to get *LB* finding out, cause right now he's itching to dispense some justice. And this idiot, he's still a Nos.

So, go in there, and freak her out a bit.
_Monstrous Countenance._
Right, so when you go in, try to hiss and bare your fangs. If you're just a normal vampire you look, kinda dumb. Like you're constipated or whatever. show her the nasty. 
_Channel your beast_
yeah totally focus on just letting the beast into your features. It's like letting it borrow your face.

It's a Nos thing man. You get it right? Total freakout.

_OOC: edited to correct for errata to Monstrous Countenance._


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## Graf (Jan 30, 2008)

[sblock=Return to IC]Diego has returned to the IC thread. 

Things will continue here of course. [/sblock]


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## Graf (Mar 18, 2008)

*Diego's Night Out*

*Inside the shop*

Diego is standing inside of a comic book shop. Racks and racks of brightly colored titles line the walls.

The girl at the counter is round faced and skinny; cute in a quirky way.  
She doesn't look supernatural, *Diego*'s beast is quiescent. 


> He's made her his ghoul.
> ...freak her out a bit.
> ...show her that maybe she doesn't want to be a ghoul no more
> Channel your beast




A middle aged man, the only other person in the store, is paying for his purchase. The store closes in ten minutes.

In addition to the front door there is a doorway to a back room; a blue cloth with superman's symbol hands in it.

[sblock=OOC Monstrous Countenance]
I've changed the prior post as Monstrous Countenance has been pretty heavily errata'd. You don't need to break out the fangs to make it work.[/sblock]


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## OnlytheStrong (Mar 18, 2008)

Diego floats around the room, absently looking at the comics. He waits until the older man either pays for his comic then subtly ducks behind the curtain. He sits and waits by the woman's belongings. 



ooc: Okay, I was gonna go farther, but decided that I needed to stop. I'm assuming way too much. Went ahead and rolled for M.C. though.


Attempt to use M.C. (3d10=13) 
re-roll ten (1d10=5) 
1 success

Stealth to move behind the curtain (stealth + dex) (1d10=8, 1d10=9, 1d10=5, 1d10=6, 1d10=3, 1d10=8, 1d10=9) 

4 successes


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## Graf (Mar 19, 2008)

[sblock=OOC: Stealth]Since this basically involves slipping past someone who is sitting right there looking around I'd assess some sort of penalty. Frankly, I think this borders on the edge of really really difficult, like a -4 or a -5.

Conveniently your left most dice are an 8 and a 9; freeing me from having to think about how hard it would be (since even at -5 you'd have 2 successes).[/sblock]

The man rings up his purchases. *Diego *crouches lower and slips out of the far aisle and slides over and behind the counter. The girl stands up on her stool, "Hey! Your receipt!"
"Thanks doll"

*Diego *scuttles along the behind the counter, nimbly slipping past the girl as she tilts forward on her stool to give the man his receipt. 

The back room is cavernous and poorly lit. 

A rattly locker sits in one corner, several names are written on it. Liv is the only one that could belong to a female. There is a fire exit partially covered by a bunch of white comic book storage boxes.

*Diego *leans against the wall nearby waiting. A few minutes later he hears the sounds of the girl, Liv presumably, locking up the front door and the cash register.

She comes in through the curtain, a few minutes later, a fat stack of comic books clutched in her hands. She looks up at *Diego*, startled.
*Diego *tries to reach down to pull something up, but he doesn't have to. It's already there, sitting under the skin, ready to bubble forth.
The girl blanches in fear but holds her ground.
Diego feels something inside of him turn nasty. It wants very badly to do horrible things to this girl. It's like a second pair of eyes open inside of his and he shows her his true self.

The girl hits the cardboard boxes in front of the fire escape at a dead sprint comics scattering in her wake. The fire alarm goes off, but the batteries are mostly dead, instead of a deafening ring a muted wail fills the air.
*Diego *can hear her on the metal stairs outside, she's lost her feet, tumbling head over heels down the iron.

*Diego *reaches the doorway in time to see *Gorilla*, hauling the girl up to her feet by her sweatshirt.
Last chance to get smart.

The girl stares wide eyed at him for a instant. Then she's caught sight of *Diego *again and she's thrashing free of the sweat shirt in a blind panic.
As soon as she's squirmed free, she bolts down the alley and across the street, and into a brightly lite doorway filled with beads.
Girlz! blares the neon sign above the door.

*Gorilla *tosses the sweat shirt away.
Aces. The simian Nosferatu grins at Diego.

[sblock=OOC Willpower points and other things]
It was fine that you pushed forward a bit. It gave me an idea of what it was you wanted to do. Easier for me that way.

As I said I don't normally spend Willpower points for people, but since you'll regain one tomorrow night (and you haven't spent any on the third night anyway).[/sblock]


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## OnlytheStrong (Mar 19, 2008)

Diego nods at Gorilla. "Seems like I'm getting the basics down. Something about that seemed....... terrifying. Even to me." He pauses for a moment, smiling widely. "Anything else ya wanna teach me?"


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## Graf (Mar 20, 2008)

*Snicker *rounds the corner. He was apparently posted out front. The three vampires amble back to the van together.

Still wants to learn, *Gorilla *nods back at *Diego*.
Well, why don't we try _Dread_? It's pretty simple.

_Mask_'s better.
Man _mask _takes months.
Does not.
Took you months.
Did not.

*Snicker *and *'rilla* bicker back and forth as they drive toward Vanderchild's.

He hasn't met enough vampires to learn _Mask_. You think he should learn _mask _you teach him. Why you ask my opinion if you don't want to hear it?

*Gorilla *crosses his arms and looks sullenly out the front window.

Ok. *Snicker *turns to *Diego*. There are two powers, one right, requires a bit of effort and for you to get in an unpleasant disposition. The other one, right is really useful.
He looks at *Gorilla*. The simian Nosferatu continues to look straight ahead.
It's really useful, because other vampires won't know you're a vampire. Like when you met us, right, no beast freaking our right? That's the _mask_. _Mask of Tranquility_.

But you got to get your beast to settle down, you know. It comes natural to some kindred, but generally you got to have met some vampires, you don't got to want your beast to be quite. Your beast wanna get quiet. You know?

_Dread _is being spooky, people around you start to get creeped out, but subtle-like. It's not for fighting, and it's not Majesty, but it's what we've got. You use it to scare somebody you wanna actually talk to you.

Which do you want to try for?


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## OnlytheStrong (Mar 20, 2008)

"Let's try dread. I'm enjoying this terrfying stuff. I ain't trying to get into a kindred fight anytime soon. Just need things to get me from day to day." Diego shakes his head. The mere thought of going against someone like Gorilla seemed almost stupifying to him. It made about as much sense as trying to catch and hold onto a helicopter blade.


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## Graf (Mar 24, 2008)

The van pulls into the neighborhood where *Vanderchild's *stately manse is located.

*Snicker *pulls over. Glances at *Gorilla*. OK. Dread it is. You gotta spend a bit of blood to get the negativity flowing. With _Monstrous Countenance_ you're more letting the beast out in a burst you know. Like you meet eyes with somebody and !BANG!," he slaps his hands together "the Beast reaches out and gives 'em a smack."

"_Dread_, right, your beast is kinda crawling around, you gotta let it pace. You feed it a bit of blood to make it hungry and then it paces around you know? Quite like so only yer soul can hear it."

With that *Snicker *turns around. When *Diego *thinks back later he'll realize that the moment before he started driving again was when *Snicker *used _Dread_. At the time though he didn't notice anything. 

When they started driving again *Diego *finds himself wondering about his parole officer.
_What if they pick us up on the road or something? Cops see I'm just out of the tank and they pinch me. They keep me overnight and I'll could wind up a pile of dust come morning.

I'm not supposed to be out of the mansion, right now am I? What if someone finds out? 

Are we being followed?_Diego feels a urge to turn around. Mounting panic.

*Snicker *starts chuckling.
He looks over at *Gorilla*, Boo!
*Gorilla *shifts in his seat but doesn't say anything.
Gotcha didn't I?

*Gorilla *turns round to look at *Diego*.
_Dread _affects everyone.
*Snicker *starts whistling a jaunty tune.

Suddenly *Diego *feels better. Why was he thinking about his parole officer anyway?

It ain't _Awe_, but it's what we got. And it'll give you and edge when you're dealing with people. Just remember, you got to concentrate stay focused,. Get the hang of it and you can do basic stuff, talk, walk, drive slowly, but you can't do anything exciting. 
Beast gets worked up. _Dread _stops working.

*Snicker *pulls up a the curb and stops.
Give it a shot? 
Remember you got to feed the beast to get it started.


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## OnlytheStrong (Mar 24, 2008)

Diego looks around uncomfortably. This stuff was crazy. "What happens if I give it too much blood?" He wasn't quite sure about tempting the beast within him. He had felt it before when he fed. "Here goes........." he half comments to himself. He breathes in slowly and concentrates on the beast. He brought up a mental image of a terrible monster, a mental manifestation of his beast. His next image in his head was troubling. He was there, cutting his own wrist so that it could drink his blood.


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## Graf (Mar 26, 2008)

[sblock=OOC]Sorry for the slow response. Your post was great! 

I writers blocked a little bit working a response up.[/sblock]



			
				OnlytheStrong said:
			
		

> Diego looks around uncomfortably. This stuff was crazy. "What happens if I give it too much blood?" He wasn't quite sure about tempting the beast within him. He had felt it before when he fed. "Here goes........." he half comments to himself.
> He breathes in slowly and concentrates on the beast.



Time seems to slow down a bit.
Try not to... 
do...
that...



			
				OnlytheStrong said:
			
		

> He brought up a mental image of a terrible monster, a mental manifestation of his beast.



The creature has a familiar unpleasantly human face. *Diego *is sure he's seen it somewhere before....



			
				OnlytheStrong said:
			
		

> His next image in his head was troubling. He was there, cutting his own wrist so that it could drink his blood.




*Diego *looks down at his wrist, in the dim light he can see the flesh on his wrist has opened and blood is slowly steaming out of it. A trail of light red fog.
The thief hears the sound of lapping, like some sort of beast drinking from a pool. 

He looks up *Snicker *is checking something in the rear view mirror, pushing it around to scan the street behind the van. He sees *Diego *as he pivots the mirror.

Busted. And he gives *Diego *an inhumanly wide smile. He looks vaguely like the Grinch from the kid's book.
Looks like we got ourselves a natural with Nightmare.

He looks over at *Gorilla*.
*Diego *can't see *Gorilla*'s expression but whatever *Snicker *saw makes the little Nosferatu chuckle and grin even wider.

Man, you scared of everything tonight. 
*Gorilla *slowly extends his middle finger in Snicker's direction; the smile gets even bigger, it looks like he could open his mouth and the top of his head would come off.

*Diego *is reminded of two old lifers he knew in prison. Guys who'd spent thirty years in the same cell together.

The young Nosferatu looks down at his wrist. The cut is gone.


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## OnlytheStrong (Mar 26, 2008)

"That was interesting to say the least." Diego sits quietly for a moment, trying to press into his mind exactly how he did that.  When he thinks he has it down he looks at the others and asks, "Anything else?


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