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| Welcome To The Night You find yourself in London on a dreary, foggy night like any other. But what lurks in the shadows is the stuff of fantasies and nightmares, far from mortal reality. This game uses the cursed and immortal vampiric condition as a backdrop to explore themes of morality, depravity, the human condition, salvation, and personal horror. We are a writing and roleplaying community dedicated to telling complex and engaging stories. Your fate is your own. Mingle among the ivory-tower elite in the Camarilla, join the fight of the discontented and chaotic Anarch rabble, or set out independently and attempt to survive in London's nighttime underworld. Anything is possible in our World of Darkness. Create Your Account! If you're already a member, please log in to your account to access all of our features: |
| Taking the reins; [Open via PM. Dylan] | |
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| Topic Started: Tuesday, 21. January 2014, 00:42 (417 Views) | |
| Victoria Scott | Tuesday, 21. January 2014, 00:42 Post #1 |
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Unbowed. Unbent. Unbroken.
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She took seat in a corner of the Tripper, her drink untouched -like always- watering and decoloring as the ice melted. She liked the taste of good whiskey in her dead lips, even if a single sip would make her puke. Sometimes she swished the liquid in her mouth and then spat it, but the general hygiene of the pub was sullied enough to add a new stain to the already sticky floor. To any new comer she was basically either a pretty boy or a punk teenager with issues. She wore a Rigor Mortis T-shirt with the sleeves folded to her shoulders, black skinny jeans and a pair of red Doc Martens she got at Camden Market one of the nights that she woke up early enough to have some shopping done. A black hoodie and her jacket rested besides her on the table. She had her hair cut that night the way she got it when she lived on the streets of New York, adding a pinch of tomboy to her already boyish constitution. Some say women tend to change their hairstyle in times of change and to Tory, having found Jack again and taking part on the political life once more was not only a change but a brand new cycle. Talking of the devil, after the Assembly being a complete clusterfuck in which she ended up staked and now that everyone knew her intentions to either overthrow or just don't give a shit about Nora and start making things on her own, the Tripper was somehow the last place where she'd like to be seen, but considering the number of fucks given by the current Baron over the last few weeks after the rant, it was pretty much as safe as any other place of London. It would've been painful to see how someone didn't care about the Brujah's intentions against her if she weren't giving an equal number of fucks about the Gangrel. Swirling between those thoughts, she took another little sip of Jack Daniel's and looked at the screen of her smartphone. The message had been delivered, and though he hadn't replied, she hoped for the Piper to show up there that night. Now that Jack had decided to temporary dissapear and travel somewhere near London, there were an awful lot of things to be discussed with the other 1/4 of their new coterie of rebels. |
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| Dylan Ford | Tuesday, 21. January 2014, 04:02 Post #2 |
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Fledgling
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Dylan got Tory's message and sent a quick reply to let her know he was on his way. He grabbed a bite first, feeding on some drunken homeless man. Now having a bit of a buzz the degenerate made his way toward the Tripper, his utility van bouncing along the streets. Twenty minutes or so after Tory received his message the Piper walked into the Tripper. He wore a faded pair of designer jeans that looked as though they were designed to look faded, rather than worn from age. He has a black t-shirt that says 'I don't need sex the Government fucks me daily. His feet are covered with black roper style boots, his outfit is completed with his trademark leather jacket. Dylan glances around the bar, his eyes sweep over Tory twice before he finally recognizes the brujah. The piper gives a nod of approval at her new look and makes his way over. He saunters toward her, and plops down into the seat opposite her. "Everything alright? There was no real sense of urgency in your message." |
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| Victoria Scott | Friday, 24. January 2014, 15:58 Post #3 |
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Unbowed. Unbent. Unbroken.
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"Oh no, dont worry, no urgency." she grabbed a cig and left the case open on the table, in front of Dylan. "But we need to discuss a few things now that we have decided to work together." Things like two particular brutes coming to the North for his head regarding an act of vandalism on the Prince's house and rushing their arses out when they discovered he was not alone, leaving a bittersweet taste on Tory's mouth. Bitter considering she still had to work with them for a Primogen, and sweet at the possibility of the two sissies being among the best Blücher's military power had to offer. Things like a particularly strong argument with whom she one day shared mind, soul and body and now felt like a total stranger. Things like a storm of unwise and cruel words hurling from her mouth that she was too proud to apologise for even thought they hurt like pieces of hot metal embed in her heart, just because accepting that the time lost was lost indeed was even harder. "First things first. Those guys claiming your arse on a stake. Why? Spare no details." |
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| Dylan Ford | Friday, 24. January 2014, 16:36 Post #4 |
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Fledgling
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Dylan takes up a cigarette and taps it on the case, to pack the tobacco tighter into the paper. He reaches in his jacket, and pulls out a lighter, alighting his smoke with a grin. "Those pricks, dumb as a box of rocks. If they are the best this city has to offer, then I fear our poor tower brats are in a worse posistion than I had ever imagined." The Piper takes a long draw on his smoke, tapping the ashes on a floor, and flashing a smile at a waitress as she passes. He looks back at Tory, with a sheepish grin, the Brujah can likely guess Dylan fgound his evening meal. "I was was walking down the street in Brent, and I see this guy chipping at a wall, with some gave man style hammer and chisel shit. I ask him what he is doing, and he lies, but he is bad at lieing and he knows it. So he admits he is carving a face, and it was amazing, you had to stand at just the right angle, and Bam, fucking face. Anywhere else that you stand it was like there wa nothing there. Well I assume this guy is mortal, then I check his Aura, and still see him as mortal. I try and get him to tag the Blythe house." Dylan shakes his head. "He would not bite, and I did not feel the need to Entrance him so I let him go, but I'm guessing he was a Lick, or a Tower Ghoul considering the two brutes, that came uh knocking." Dylan gives a shrug and exhales the smoke in a few rings as he looks back to Tory. "Glad you came in like the Calvary when you did, not something I'll forget." He met her eyes, as if silently saying 'I owe you one'. Edited by Dylan Ford, Friday, 24. January 2014, 16:37.
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| Victoria Scott | Monday, 27. January 2014, 03:48 Post #5 |
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Unbowed. Unbent. Unbroken.
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She smirked back and shrugged. "Not a big deal. I'm used to be the white knight." she said, right before she realised Dylan didn't know about her past yet. Nor did she knew about his, and she'd rather not tell a guy who was just an acquaitance about her time as a Scourge before she could sound the Toreador out. "But let me tell you something." She rested both elbows on the table, leaning slightly forward upon Dylan. The slim smile on her face quickly dissolved. "If I were you, I'd consider stop moving alone for the next few months. I know they were just kids, but as much as I believe the Camarilla a bucket full of imbeciles and paranoids, I doubt the Prince would call up a handful of kids just to hunt a vandal. And there might be more than kids the next time." she frowned, trying to instill in the Piper the seriousness of the issue. "Jack was right. There were more than northerners in that warehouse. They're just waiting for the right oportunity to catch us, and without knowing it, you gave them the perfect chance. I'm not scolding you or something." she quickly rectified, knowing that sometimes she sounded like a granny. It was difficult not to sound like one when you were 100 years old. "Just be careful. We need to keep ourselves out of sight. And Jack and I won't be there forever to help you." Even if the Prince was a Ventrue -and she very well knew how paranoid those aristocrats could grow- calling a hunt over a teaser for that sole reason felt kind of excessive. With Dylan captured they risked more than a man down, they risked being known to the whole Camarilla. "Time, I just need some time. If there's some kind of supreme being in heaven, please give me some time." Time. That was all they needed. "Talk of the devil, Jack is not in London anymore." A stabbing pain stirred her guts. "Not for the next weeks, anyway." |
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| Dylan Ford | Friday, 31. January 2014, 21:11 Post #6 |
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Fledgling
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Dylan gives her a reassuring smile. "You want me to keep my head down, and so I will. You don't want me to travel alone, I can't promise that, but I will stay close enough for comfort." He leans in close as well lowering his voice a bit. "Does make you wonder, why the prince feels so threatened by such a little thing as a prank. Perhaps his throne is not so secure?" The piper gives a shrug of his shoulders. Dylan bites his lip a bit. "We need a plan, we got a handful of Anarchs, and hardly any of them want to do anythin but sit about wearing a leather jacket, Jack sounded like he had a plan, if you know it, or if you got a better one, well I am all ears." |
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| Victoria Scott | Wednesday, 5. February 2014, 21:41 Post #7 |
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Unbowed. Unbent. Unbroken.
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She shook her head. As much as the Brujah wanted to agree with Dylan, she knew enough about Princes to doubt Blücher's move was driven by insecurity. Real danger even. "Alarik's palace will never be bulletproof enough for his royal ass. Not under his perspective." she leaned on the wall, placing a feet on the chair and her arm over the bended knee. "He's a Prince sitting on a throne of intrigues. A kingdom is never safe enough for his king, least for one that built his under the shadow of machination. When you yourself ascend on court crushing enemies upon your tongue and pulling the strings of those silly enough to befriend you, it's a gullible idea to expect nobody around the throne hall will try the same on you. The first thing a leader should learn is that there's always someone better than you lurking behind every corner. Ready to crush you the way you crushed your predecessor." Her knowledge of the ways of power made her a serious contestant, yet sometimes she discovered herself startled by her own words. The thoughts spontaneously sprouted on her mind for her to harvest them. Which was ok as the understanding of enemies was the first brick to build their demise. What scared her was the agility with which they developed. It wasn't something she had learned reading The Prince, it was something she would do if she were a Prince. Deep inside she knew the constant weigh of Camarilla's life had started to turn the Brujah into one of those she hated, like an illness rotting her insides. She was free from their games now, but she feared it was too late to cut the root of the filth. And there was the fact that, even though her appearance gave her a few free moves it was only a matter of time for her enemies to realise the conniver on ragged jeans. After that she was on the spotlight. "Dylan, he's a paranoid. He sees ghosts in every shadow. Where others see a prank, he sees a major enemy gestating a revolution." and he was partially right. "Wether that enemy can match him or not, he sure as shit won't give him the opportunity to grow. Fuck, I'm being serious, he wants you dead. If you didn't give him reasons, he'll find them." she pointed at Dylans forehead. "Inside. When you'll willingly tell him every little word we said on the Assembly." She tried to sound more upset than angry, but when the lives of the Toreador, Jack and her own life depended on his ability to save his ass, she couldn't help but feel it a personal matter. She lowered her leg and leaned forward, eyeing Dylan. "Buddy, there's no plan. Jack left, you're being hunted and I'm bat shit tired." she could see confusion in Dylan's eyes, quickly followed by a dissapointed frowning. But then a hand that had always been hidden under the table touched the fabric of the Piper's jeans and shook his leg calling for his hand. When their cold skin met, a piece of folded paper dropped into Dylan's palm. "Sorry to dissapoint you. Safety is first." Her eyes drilled Dylan's violently. Violently as in "don't you dare make a false move that could betray us or we are fucked." |
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| Dylan Ford | Wednesday, 5. February 2014, 22:14 Post #8 |
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Fledgling
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"The prince finds himself looking over his shoulder. It makes sense then that he wants to hunt me. He could make me out to be a threat, and kill me to show his puppets how he protects them." The Piper takes the notes as he feels her hand, he tucks it carefully into a pocket. He was curious what it said, but Tory obviously wanted discretion. "That's it then, with Jack gone, the plan is done. A damn shame really." Dylan's eyes met hers. He gave a brief nod, but his eyes showed a hint of his dangerous rebel nature. He was saying silently; I can't promise anything. |
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3:53 PM Jul 11