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The Times
The Kindred Chronicle
Key Figures
THE MONSTER OF EALING
Last night, several people reported the sighting of a "screaming red monster" in a quiet neighbourhood of Ealing. After a power shortage in the area, a building caught fire. It was then when, what was described as a "man shaped, footless creature" emerged from the flames, leaping, running, and screaming. One woman has told our reporters that the man had "teeth like a wolf, and the face of the devil". Police officers are still trying to get to the bottom of this; neither the power shortage nor the fire have still been explained. A spokesperson from Scotland Yard has stated that the "so called monster" might be a wounded person, escaping the fire.

TRAGEDY IN TOOLEY STREET
The police has found the bodies of three TFL workers in the construction site at Tooley Street. One of their colleagues raised the alarms last week, when the three workers didn't attend their shifts. The bodies of the men have been found in a deep hole, uncovered by the refurbishment works that are taking place in the area. According to the Police, the bodies were horribly mutilated, which has led to the wildest speculations. The names of the three workers are being kept anonymous, following the wishes of their families.

HOROSCOPE
MARCH 8 - PISCES
You are used to making sacrifices, to prioritising the happiness of others before yours. Even though that is a noble attitude, there are times in life where the only healthy alternative is to embrace your own selfishness and allow yourself some enjoyment. Reserve one hour per day to do something you really like. Treat yourself! Your colour for this month is blue.
Echoes from the past ring back into London. Their intensity increases until they are deafening. What once was a faded memory of a glorious time, now becomes a shocking reality. The consequences of actions taken decades ago ripple into the present, altering the lives of everybody in the City. Unguided and blind, Kindred wander around, trying to make profit out of the reigning chaos.


The appearance of four mysterious figures turned the city upside down. Mistrust and jealousy became the official currency of London. Serpents and fiends rise to power, misdirecting the blaming eyes of the Camarilla towards imaginary enemies. Only those with clear vision and the ability to trust each other strive, while the rest run towards a shallow grave.



Across The Board
Current Chronicle: Dragons and Lions; Pride and Fire
Current Season: Spring
Controlling Sect: Camarilla



Index
Getting Started
General Information
Central London
North London
East London
West London
South London
Miscellaneous
Out of Character


Population: 31

Camarilla
Anarchs
Other
Ventrue: 1
Toreador: 5 (6)
Brujah: 2 (3)
Malkavian: 7
Tremere: 2
Nosferatu: 3
Gangrel: 1
Ventrue: 1
Toreador: 0
Brujah: 2 (3)
Malkavian: 0
Nosferatu: 1
Gangrel: 1
Setites: 5
Sabbat: ???


THE CAMARILLA

Prince

Nobody

Sheriff
Meredith Furlong
Hounds
Robyne Sheridan
Rosella Marie Allain


Keeper of Elysium
Davvad Bisset

Grand Harpy
Catherine Wilke

Primogen
Ventrue: Marcus Antonio Russo
Brujah: Thomas Krusen
Gangrel: Alexa Mallik
Malkavian: Ellora Reese
Tremere: Hannah Sundling
Toreador: Arsenio Pozzi
Nosferatu: Dogan Khojak



ANARCHS

Baron

Khoza

Baronets
Enfield: Leslie
Haringey & Barnet: Clarice Harris
Harrow: Jelena Korolenko

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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.

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I wanna hold your hand - Through the Looking Glass
Topic Started: Monday, 27. January 2014, 21:47 (315 Views)
Mac
Member Avatar
Goddess of Fuck and War
* * * * *
I'm pressed against a shattered wall, the bricks behind my back broken and uneven, sticking out at off angles... Digging into me painfully, but I can barely understand where the pain is coming from now, I am so physically broken it's all a messy blur. I'm being held up by my throat, one hand limply holding onto the wrist that's pinned me here. My left arm is broken in probably six places, if not more. My right leg is in no better shape, I can't even put my weight on it, the tibia is so completely separated it's poking out of a gaping hole, blood slowly leaking down my leg in a cold trail.

I don't think I'm getting out of this one. I got so far ahead no one even noticed when I went missing from the raid ten minutes ago, trying I flush out the fucker I'm pinned against this shattered wall by. Have I mentioned he broke the wall with me? My spine could be broken, but I still have some control in my lower legs so I don't think it is... Maybe just excessively bruised.

Didn't realize I was getting separated, because this mother fucker out smarted me with such ease I didn't know what hit me. Cold hand slipping into mine as I was sliding over a hanging ledge above the raid, not following exactly where Church had gotten to because a small explosion had caused us to scatter early. We'd thought we'd get a little farther in detected, but something stinks. When I looked to see who it was, machete already slinging towards their head I was staring into the green eyes of my Fanger. I paused his beheading, surprised but grinning madly to see him. We had wanted to stay together, but the flames had caused us to detour separate directions.

"Got another way doll, come on."

So I went, slipping off with this man who was wearing the face of a lover, they talk so Similar, mannerisms so identical in some ways I didn't have any idea for the first few minutes. Not until we hit this dead end room, with no way out but the way we came in. That's when he broke my arm, which on any given night would just be sexy child's play for Church and I. He broke it wrong though, he didn't break it with loving intent in his eyes. He shattered it with a sadistic glee that told me how fucked I was, and made me realize the mistake I'd walked right into.

"Awe doll, I see you finally get it." He'd known the moment I knew, we didn't have to exchange a word on the subject of his fucking mask. I didn't has to verbalized anything, he read me like an open book and laughed when my knee caught his sternum. I broke something for sure, but I wasn't able to break anything further because he was Fucking around inside my brain in a way only Malkavians can.

I didn't understand anything anymore, even though I knew a second ago I had some sort of all important truth in my hands.

"Church? Baby, we gotta get going... I ... Something's wrong."

I reached for him with my broken arm, the pain shooting up brought me staggering my brain with white lights. His body slid in close, one arm dipping in behind my back as I gasped. When did my arm get broken? How? Everything is so confused, and I'm not sure where we are. What is this room? It's huge, and it's got caved in doors way out at the sides. Like some kind of old Cathedral, yeah that's what it is. This was once a Church, I'm pretty sure. Before Half of London was decimated in the war. There he is, my Savior holding me up through the chaos in my mind, green eyes staring down at me with a grin on his face.

"Oh Jesus, are... Are we raiding Jack? What the fuck..."

Bits and pieces are sliding together inside my head, slowly knitting as I gain a base perspective of where I am even though I can't quite grasp it through the clouds of cotton.

"Yeah Princess, we're raiding Jack."

It's the way he says princess that gets me all tangled and wrong inside, he looks and sounds so much like Church except there ain't a certain sentiment behind that word. There isn't ten years of teasing and pleasing. I shove him away violently, trying to get my head on right and get him out of it. The laugh isn't anything like I know, it's chilling and frightens me on an instinctual level. Is he an apparition? Am I seeing things that aren't truly there?

A sudden fist to my guts tells me quite the opposite, it's hard and winds me thoroughly, but I refuse to go to my knee's like he intended me too. I resist, and instead reach out to grasp a handful of his shirt with my good hand to steady myself. He's still grinning, one of his hands reaching up to grasp my wrist and hold it tight, so I can't let go as I wheeze. I'm trying to throw a knee at him again, and yank him hard down towards it. I'm stronger than he expected, and manage to pull him down to my knee hard again. Once he's down, I'm going to twist a leg up and over him and pin his head between my thighs with me on his back. If I hadn't dropped my machete when he shattered my arm, I would behead him...

Unfortunately he doesn't let me get that far,  my knee manages to connect with his chest, but half heartedly. Something's come over me and I'm losing the need to fight, losing the need to do anything really. Like someone's tapped my well of rage and anger and is draining it dry so fast I can't even keep up with being myself. I'm empty and hollow and I'm willing to stand there listlessly. I know I should be doing something but damned if I give a fuck to do it anymore.

He stands up and grins, a hand wiping across his face where I've managed to give him a blood lip somehow. He looks at his bloody thumb, fangs showing in his gleeful expression as he lifts a hand and smears his blood across my face. Oh god, I do not want that. Even in this strange and near catatonic state, unable to respond... I do not want that.

He's walking around me now, doing a little circle as if he's eyeing up the goods. He doesn't look to pleased, despite his words. Something's chewing him wrong, and he leans in close and rips open down the front of my wife beater. Then he's looking real pleased.

"Whoa, impressive."

I'm not sure of he's talking about my rack, or about my rack of knives and utility items on my harness. Somehow it does manage to break the spell a little, and I smile in the corner of my mouth. I need to come out of this, and I hold onto that little humorous break to try and crawl out of this pit of stillness. The back of my mind is never quiet, it ain't it's usual panic but it's sure noting that somethings wrong as fuck here.

"You're going to be so much more fun than Vic was. You and my boy, my family again."

Fuck no. Is that his intention? That'll never work.

"No..." I'm breaking it, whatever's he's got on me I'm climbing out. My
mouths working at least. He's sliding my goodies off my harness, leaving the knives but he's got the idea that I've got lighters everywhere. He's sliding all in close to find them too, green eyes staring into mine as he uses hands on my hips to grind me up against him. I can't help the response I have, he looks like my Fanger, talks so Similar... Fuck they even move so much the same, I get now why Church seems to think of this guy as surrogate daddy. He really did raise him. The shuddery breath that comes out of my mouth seems to please him, as his hands slide into the holes in my jeans and he inspects all the way down the harness removing all my lighters, and the scalpels. Apparently he'd doesn't want me to have those either, though he doesn't seem to concerned about the smaller ones.

Idiot. I'm as deadly with a little blade as a big one, just let me open you up just deep enough to shove a hand inside you, then rip you're body apart with my surprisingly strength for a chick. I want to kill this fucker so bad, but I want him to drop that face before I do it.

"Nah Fanger, I'll kill you..." I was feeling my limbs again, at least I could feel my arm burning as it swelled under the breaks. I could suddenly feel a lot more, as he slipped again and stepped behind me. His hands slid to my hips again, and I made my brain and my vices steel to his touch. I did not want to get turned on by this mother fucker, especially as he stepped in so his cool body was met with the fire of my own. He whispered, still using Damon's voice and mask.

"Awe sugar, you're already dead. Already a little malkavian in waiting, you and my boy. I'm just waiting for him to realize it too, and sniff out his little pet and try and save you. I want him to watch you die... Watch you die like a little maggot and wake up a vicious carnivorous fly, reborn in a Church. Get the symbolism? Hahahahaha..."

A Mackavian? No. Fuck no. That's my biggest nightmare, and somehow Jack knows it too. My insides are buckets of ice, and I'm petrified. I don't want this, I need to move... But the moment I think my body is ready to do as I want it too, his foot comes down hard and breaks through the bones in my leg. Everything goes white and blinding, and I'm falling forward to catch myself on two arms, one is already broken.

I know I screamed a lot, and when I'm myself again against the broken brick wall my face is wet.

I want to die, I really do.

We've fucked this up so bad, somehow he knew from the get go. There's a rat in our numbers, numbers so big we thought we'd have this entire escapade in the bag easily. Joined up with the Brujah, Anarch and Cammies on the same side now, since the war and all. Should have known George and I would plan a shit show, but everyone thought it was solid.

Fuck, it -was- solid. We were duped. Someone snitched, it's the only fucking possible explanation.

"Lick your lips" He'a commanding me now, trying to fuck inside my head with dominate. I'm usually better at resisting this sort of shit, with Marco I developed a tolerance for it. His blood is still smeared on my face, and despite how little control over myself I have now that I'm so fucking broken, he knows I understand and that I'm resisting. His hand not on my throat drives a fist into my belly with a giggle, and I let my body respond in a way that's so Mac I'm proud of it. I spew all over him, a violent god damned jet propelled spew. It hits him in the face, slides down his body. He let's go of my throat, most Fangers respond the exact way he does, recoiling in horror.

Relief, I can breathe again, the tension at my throat gone as I gasp a breathe that leaves me all to soon when I put weight on my leg. I'm so fucking fucked.

I'm not crawling out of this one, but I'm going to fucking try. I can't use my leg, and one hand. I can still crawl on my side though, and I will. I'm going for the backpack he ripped off me earlier, where it sits against the wall not far away, next to some crates that seem to be used as storage for something. My bag is filled with Molotov cocktails made of my favourite 96% vodka that goes boom boom boom when lit. I don't get there, he knows what I want and he's on his feet. He gets there first, pulling the bag open and laughing.

"Oh Jesus girl, I took your lighters. What the fuck you want these for now?"

Does he think I forgot he took my lighters? Please. He's tortured me pretty good in the last while, not -that- good.

"Just looking to pour one out for my lame ass, a final drink since most of my last one for the night is all over that pretty fake face you're wearing."

I offer an answer, which is half a lie and half a truth. I really could  use a fucking drink, half of what I guzzled just before we came out for this grand adventure is all over my false lover here.

He looks bored by my answer, rolling his eyes as he pulls out a bottle and gives it a sniff test.

"No wonder you stink like a drowned mongrel, this isn't a drink. What the fuck has that boy been teaching you? I taught him better class than this shit."

His face screws up in one of Church's weird little expressions, and I'm overwhelmed by a moment of joy at his face. It's quickly squashed by the knowledge that this isn't my Fanger, but it fucks with your head man. You can know it in your head but your heart still responds the same. I give up and roll over into my back, giving up on the effort of moving to try and re strategize. He moves to stand over me, grinning as he pops the cap and begins to dribble vodka down onto my face. I try and drink it, why the fuck not? But he increases the pour so it just splashed over my face after a few mouthfuls. It gets in my eyes, and it stings to high heaven as I close them tight and try and roll out of the stream. He just follows, my face burning in agony, eyes on fire.

I'm not leaving this pile of vodka, I'm going to wallow in the wet stain of it as tears try and chase the vodka from my face. I want to roll onto my knee's, but when I try I'm just screaming as the bones sticking out of my leg scrape the stone floor. I settle for rolling onto my ass, propping my back against the wall as he finishes pouring the vodka over my head of dreads.

"Fuck you man." It's all I can manage through my tears, and I hear him crouch beside me and drop the bottle. No, not drop, break. He smashed it, on purpose. I don't know why because I can't fucking see, but the sound was to purposeful.

"Can you hear it? I hear foot steps... Someone's coming toots."

I can hear it, but I was hoping he couldn't. With my eyes closed all I have is my ears and my sense of touch, and I'm shaking all over to the point I could be used like a vibrator for some poor sexually frustrated woman.

Don't find me baby, just don't. At least that's what I wish I was thinking and feeling, when really... I wanna see him one last time. And I hate it.  I hate that I want to see the real face of My Doc once more before the lights go out, because this fuckers put this horrible mockery in it's place. I don't wanna go out with this imitation the last thing I see.

We said good bye before we started into tonight, our goodbye's the same as our hello a decade before this. We don't use that stupid, empty, misunderstood four letter word. As if a four letter word could ever actually sum up what this last decade has meant to either of us. Fuck that. That's for Care Bears and people who ain't as broken as we were. When I bit his lip good bye, I said the same thing I have always said, the truest most meaningful thing I can express. "You make me stupid Doc."

Something's cutting me open, glass, he's using glass to cut through my stomach just under my ribs. I'm screaming at the top of my lungs, which I'm sure is the point. The world is swirling as I try and see through stinging, tearing eyes.

"Bleed you out, let you dance the edge of death till he see's you. Then the curtain falls. He'll beg me to juice out a little of the Jack magic and make you live again..."

His hand is sliding into the open wound, I can feel his fingers slipping inside of me... Then the rest of his hand follows, slipping up under my rib cage as his fingers grasp around my heart.

“You're a trooper Mac. I gotta say you're so much fun, I could run away with you... Be still my beating heart. Or yours.” He gave some sort of dreamy sigh, but I can't fucking follow it. I can barely follow his words.

I don't know if I'm screaming anymore or not, I don't know anything solidly. I'm lost, gone to a world of agony beyond my thresholds tolerance. Simply drowning, wanting to die... But I do to want to die alone. Can I hold on till those footsteps make it here? Are they running? I can't understand all the sounds, because my minds all fucked up on memories and flashing lights.

I try and see, tip my head towards the only entrance while gasping to breathe. It's so hard, his hand is to big and there's no room for my lungs. I lift my good foot, as if to kick out. I can't manage it, and just let it rest limply with the knee bent.

I can see a bit, my tears have cleaned some of the fuel from my eyes. My backpack is right next to me, sitting in the pile of vomit and spilled vodka. When did I puke again? Oh man, I must have when he stuck his hand in me because when I look down it's all over. Maybe I was trying to get him to take his hand out? Didn't work the second round.

Footsteps, I understand footsteps as I look to the door.

Oh god it's wrong.

It's not Church, it's not my Doc. No one's going to be putting me together after this...

 It's Aguirre. How the fuck did Mouse get this far? This... This wasn't supposed to happen. Where is Sawyer? Sawyer and her are stuck together, always. They were not supposed to separate... I almost have a thought about Sawyers relationship with the rat in our midst, but my stomach turns violently even at the slightly contemplation. No. Won't even degrade him like that, it had to be an Anarch. One of the ones semi influenced by the Sabbat. Trust issues... I have them, so how did I ever trust any of them? Cuz I hate these fuckers so bad I expected them to as well I guess.

She looks sick, like she's going to spew. Aguirre's come along way in the last decade, not nearly the 'Mouse' she'd been when we met. You have to toughen up when you become Baron, and she'd had the title thrust on her despite her flailing and wanting to run from it. Wasn't anyone else that could get folk behind them the way Aguirre could, she commands loyalty even when she's demanding that you fuck off and don't give her any.

She doesn't understand what she's seeing, I realize she's seeing Church with his fist crammed all the way up inside my chest clutching my heart. Feeling it beat. Glorifying in it's slowing drum.

He looks disappointed in who it is, who would have thought right? Well good on ya darling, at least I see one face I love. Before she can do something stupid though, I have to end this. Footsteps behind her, making her look back over her shoulder. I'm going to sing... Light and soft.

"Pray don't find me... My life is fading fast. "

It's the most accurate curtain call I could sing, and it makes him look away from Aguirre and the other footsteps at the door, and at me.

At least I can pretend.

I scrape my heel, hard. The flints in the back of my shoe catch on the stone, grind, cause sparks... And ignite the vodka and vomit pool we're sitting in. It's okay, I'm okay.

I came into this world loving fire, and I'll take us both out in it. At least Aguirre will be here to see it, and when she finds the real Church he'll know what the fuck just happened. I just can't wait any longer, can't let her get any closer to us. Whatever's beyond the door is my saving grace, distracting her long enough to save one of the only things I give a shit about. She's far enough away I don't have to worry, as long as I do it now without delay.

At least I ain't going alone. Grim Reaper will be grateful to finally reap my sorry ass, but I'll give him a for one! And people said I was getting soft in my old age, fuck that.

The fire catches, and his hand pulls itself out of my chest so fast I wonder if my hearts gone with it. It didn't, he's too panicked. He's trying to run, but my good hand's got him hard and I'm not letting the Fanger go anywhere as the fire engulfs us. My spew lights too, all over his face and down his chest, it's one of the reasons I drink that shit. So even my vomit is a fucking weapon. I laugh, before something next to use explodes. The backpack of fuel, but it's more... One of the crates? Jesus, one of the crates a was full of something.

I'm still clutching a burning, shrieking Jackass. Or I was, till my arm blew off. The world falls away, and I fall away from the world.
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"You are so fucking Camarilla. All hope and optimism. Maybe we can mount a rescue mission, and everyone can have a cupcake party, and fly around on Pegasus unicorns pooping rainbows."
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