Vampire The Masquerade RPG
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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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The Baron Catalyst; Open to Any Anarchs
Topic Started: Monday, 21. April 2014, 22:36 (938 Views)
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The Game Master
* * * * * *
There was a woman standing in front of the Night Tripper.

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She stood with arms crossed, one hooked through the strap of her white bag, staring at the building.

Eventually, someone said: "Yeah, there's nutin' inside but breathers. Checked em' all."

"Bugger an' blast," said the woman

"Yeah," said the voice, which was soft enough that only the woman could hear it, and had no visible body to go with it. "Do we go to t'other dive?"

"Give us another bit, love. 'Ospitality's well and nice, but this pub was the place for Anarchs in London for years past. If it's as empty as you say, we might be properly snookered. Give it a bit more."

And so, there was a woman standing in front of the Night Tripper.
The NPC is not an admin nor does it have one singular user behind it. No PM's may be sent to the NPC and neither can you communicate with the NPC outside of role-play. Please contact Staff if you have any questions or queries. The NPC serves to only bring new information into role-play, members of staff have access to the NPC and will regularly be different people.
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Aguirre Efrain Maddox
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* * * * *
The Night Tripper was traditionally a very, very bad place to be at any point in time. This was a fact proven over. And over. And over again. There was the time that she followed a band of strangers from the Tripper to what should have been her doom, right then and there--and yet she survived. Big fucking surprise there. Then there was the time she pulled Sawyer in, only to be taken to the Prince's headquarters by the Baron. Also a fantastic time, it was always good to watch a man have his hands removed by a group of the scariest pricks in London. She was more than a little surprised she survived that encounter, too, considering the fact she'd stood on Sawyer's side for that one rather than Nora's. Oh, and then there was the last time, running into the last Nosferatu she wanted to see at the time for no reason other than to fuck everything she'd been planning since she came back right up. Yeah, she was happy to be around Sawyer again--but only because it was easier that way.

Considering every single catastrophe she'd been witness to or involved in at the Night Tripper, it was a god damn wonder that she was walking back to it right now. Why? Why was it that every time she was supposed to meet up with someone, it was that place? She was always terrified Nora would be there, despite the fact that Nora seemed to be even more absent than she had been in the past. She could be lurking anywhere, cloaked and invisible and waiting to rip the throat out of the first asshole to cause a fight in her establishment. Sure seemed like that was the only way to keep things calm, and even the word 'calm' was a subjective term when it came to the Tripper, because nothing was ever calm. Calm to the regular inhabitants of the Tripper was a bleeding man stumbling in and preaching the apocalypse. What the hell had her life come to? Hadn't she learned her lesson about leaving the apartment yet?

Obviously not.

Despite every nerve in her body screaming to go literally anywhere else in London, Aguirre kept on, hands deep in the pockets of a weathered jacket that had seen better days. She was slouched, eyes scanning the area sharply to make sure there was no one there she knew--yet, anyway. Something bad was bound to happen. Something bad always happened. For once, she would have liked not to be involved in it, if at all possible. She was only here to get information, nothing major, just information about a house in Central London she'd been casing for a week or two. Real valuable items in there, apparently. She still hadn't replaced her phone, and even if she had, she wasn't so sure her 'friend' would carry one either. The only place the piece of shit was willing to meet up was the Tripper, if only for the flinch and the clenching of teeth the name of the dive evoked in her.

Whatever, she thought idly as she neared the front doors, passing a figure she barely noticed through her focus on entering without the roof collapsing in on her. Everythin' goes right with this house, I won't have to come back to this fuckin' place for a while. Never would be great. She hummed idly, trying to keep herself from turning around and running right back home.
Edited by Aguirre Efrain Maddox, Monday, 21. April 2014, 23:04.
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* * * * * *
"One little piggy went to market."

"Yeah. D'we know 'er?"

"Of her. Unless I miss my guess, that's the girl old Henny was in a snit about a while ago. Not sure what it was about, but seems she's the Juliet to some Cammy Romeo."

"Huh. Liked that film."

"It's a play, you arse. 'Ow are you even English?"

"Jus' born so, love. We follow 'er?"

"Let's not ambush the poor bird in the street. Give it a moment. See if anyone else is about."
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Aguirre Efrain Maddox
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* * * * *
[ooc: please excuse typos or repeats. Types this on my phone ._.]

C'mon now. Open the door, and step your cowardly carcass inside. The fuck is wrong with you? Since when are you afraid of fuckin' buildings? Put your hand on the handle. Yeah, see, like that--that's it. Now push down on the lip. Yeah, yeah, see? Ain't so hard? Is it?

The hesitant hand of the Mouse fell abruptly at her side at this point, annoyance carving wrinkles into usually smooth features as she barely audibly groaned at her own fear of entering the former hangout of the Anarchs. Apparently she had learned a lesson, but the moral was setting in the worst time it possibly could. She never really knew what to expect walking in besides almost certainly coflict, and yet like a fish swimming back into the same poisoned water, she kept coming back. At first she thought it was because she had no where else to go, because her life had fallen apart in so many different ways she didn't know how to repair it other than to hope it went away. Not so. Never so. The dread that crawled under her skin like so many tiny bugs indicated that there were only two plausible reasons for consistently coming back to this place; one was the possibility that she was here for no other reason than to get a job, do a job, and never come back--the most logical reason, and therefore the least relevant.

Two; familiarity. That nonsensical draw to certain places that cause nostalgia, even when that nostalgia is swimming in Ebola and maggots. And Anthrax. And everything else that was bad.

It was worthy to note that opening old doors had become more and more difficult recently, because there was always someone she knew and disappointed waiting on the other side to make her feel awful. Honestly, she deserved it for a number of reasons, but that didn't mean she wanted to have to deal with them every single time she left the apartment. Still, she had shit to handle on the other side of this door, if that fucking prick was even here yet. She had yuppies to steal unique and valuable things from, then distribute to the figurative "poor". She had her ticket out of London's low life if she so pleased, but... Not really. She didn't have the class to play rich lady, or the posture. Mostly she didn't want to be a bottom feeder anymore, wanted to move up in the world from pick pocketing and petty theft.

At that moment, Aguirre wished she had a cigarette so she had an excuse for being outside.

She laid a hand on the door handle again, pressing down on the lip to open the heavy door and walk right on in. Of course, she had to kick in the concious effort of breathing, but that wasn't difficult when there were blood bags all over the place setting an example. She'd been instructed to find him near the back; the Brujah craned her long neck to find who she was looking for, and would would approach to join him in a booth if she could ever actually find him.
Edited by Aguirre Efrain Maddox, Wednesday, 23. April 2014, 06:24.
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Dandelion
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Aguirre's informant, a Nosferatu name Firewall (pronounced f1r3w@ll), was not in the back. He was not, in fact, inside yet. He was walking up the street to the Tripper. He was running a bit late.

He was honestly almost as nervous as Aguirre about visiting the Night Tripper. He wasn't, strictly speaking, affiliated with this Sect. He was one of Henderson's many flunkies and spent most of his life below ground. But the Baron was gone, and he knew the girl he was coming to meet didn't like it here, and he liked seeing that pretty smooth-face squirm almost as much as he liked taking her money. So he'd thrown on a ratty hoodie, pulled tight over his face, and schleped up here.

As he lay a hand on the doorknob, he also hesitated. But it wasn't because of some internal conflict or painful memories. It was because another hand landed on top of his.

"'Ello love! Funny place you're picking for an evening's drink! Because I know for a proper fact that you belong to different old boy's club."

Firewall snatched his hand back and stared at what looked like a yellow-haired bag-woman.

"Who the fuck are you?"

"I'm a proper 'erald of 'arsher times to come. And if you're an Anarch, I'm a Yank. Pip, be a love and bring our Cammy brother around to that alley. We need to 'ave words, 'im and I."

"Yes ma'am."

Firewall suddenly became aware that something very large was standing behind him.




Aguirre had found a table in the back where she could wait for her (late) informant when she was approached by someone she did not recognize.

"'Ello Miss Maddox! I'm afraid your friend 'as been inevitably delayed. 'E sends me along with 'is apologies, and a 'andful of facts 'e thought you might 'ave an interest in."

She smiled then, the expression peeking over the top of her scarf, revealing withered black lips and cracked, gray skin that resembled bark.

"I'm Dandelion Fink. Could you spare one of these chairs for me, love?"
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Aguirre Efrain Maddox
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* * * * *
Truth be told, Aguirre didn't know her informant as well as she should have, although that didn't mean she wanted to be anywhere near friends with him. Nosferatu were an admittedly mixed bag as far as she was concerned, and she usually ended up either absolutely loathing them so much she couldn't be around them, or... Well. She got overly attached. Either extreme tended to be uncomfortable, and in regards to this asshole in particular, she felt more like breaking his skull with each passing moment she had to spend in the Tripper alone. He was fucking tardy, which meant more vulnerability because she couldn't just get what she needed and get out. It meant daydreams involving real natural disasters knocking wind out of the joint, reducing it to piles of rubbish where a building used to stand.

The Brujah focused thoughts of paramount dislike for all things into a glass of rum and coke, something she couldn't indulge in; she could only eye it thirstily and wish she could drink something of that nature without immediately throwing it up or sucking it out of some drunken, handsy prat's neck. Every once in a while she'd find her way to the throat of a homeless man, and while they didn't taste great, she like to imagine the whole lot of them are reincarnations of Bukowski before he was famous. Nights like those produced in her a sentimentality she couldn't shake for a while afterward, like the night she met Church. Any other evening, she might have ducked her head and pretending she hadn't seen that cigarette butt roll up to her feet like a beacon which read "help me!"

Shit, she needed to find herself a bum. Preferably not of Mac's unfortunate decoys, either.

Aguirre was roused rather reluctantly from her stupor, caramel-colored eyes turning up to a woman whose taste was almost as bad as her own, not to mention a very distinct mop of yellow hair perching atop her noggin. Dandelion was a fitting title, indeed. With one brow raised and the other lowered and straight as a board, she took a moment to study the stranger before wondering exactly what had happened to the little bitch who didn't show up with the information she paid for. Those details were important, for fuck's sake. She motioned vaguely to a chair across from her, shaking the look off her face as well as she could.

"Help yourself. Ain't like nobody else is gonna."

The willowy brunette would wait for Dandelion to settle herself in before she spoke; she wasn't sure why the other one knew her name, or why the echo of "Miss Maddox" seemed so threatening when she hadn't been referred to as that in at least the last few months. She wouldn't go jumping to conclusions here, though. Not in a room full of humans, which, why the way--when had his dump become so popular with people recently? Why was it full of creatures with pulses?

"Miss Dandelion, I do hope you got some good news. Not that it matters. I can only assume that when folks I don't know, know me--it ain't a great omen."

All came down to the omens nowadays, didn't it? Since when had she been one to invest on superstition?
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The strange woman sprawled into the chair opposite Aguirre. She went straight from standing to absolute relaxation, arm over the back of the chair, legs up on another. She somehow contrived to keep her disguise intact even as she three herself about. She probably used a lot of hat pins.

"Don't fret love. I know names and faces for most of the Anarchs in London. Did my 'omework before coming around I did. I ain't stalking you. Well. Not you in particular."

She folded her slightly-too-long-fingers together on her stomach.

"I 'ave useful news about this 'ouse of yours. I suppose the good'll come of what you make of it. But before we get to the value, the price is a bit changed from when you last spoke to me dear brother...ah...Firewall."

It seemed to take her a moment to recall the name. Which might increase Aguirre's curiosity about exactly how this meeting had switched from one Nosferatu to another.

"You may or may not be tickled to 'ear: I don't want the money you promised 'im. I just want a bit of your time, Miss Maddox, no more than 'alf an 'our and likely less, for a little chat about the state of the Barony. I'll take that payment in advance, and then give over the maps alarm keys you were promised, and you can be on your merry way in short order. Do we 'ave a deal?"
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Aguirre Efrain Maddox
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* * * * *
Strange woman, this one. At least she wasn't overbearing and all together intimidating like new people used to be, but that could have been due to a flip in the Brujah's mentality regarding anyone who wasn't holding a lit match or cigarette. This woman wouldn't put her in the ground; not yet, anyway. She had no reason to. In fact, she was seeking information of her own. Anyway, fear was just as subjective as the definition of "home", and Dandelion looked like a good bit of kindling herself.

The Brunette wasn't particularly pleased that she was getting second-hand information; she liked to cut out as many middle men as she could in any given situation, not add an unnecessary one into the mixing bowl, but she also didn't seem to have much choice in the matter. The displeasure revealed itself in the form of slightly down turned corners of tight lips. She wasn't necessarily one to complain, but at the mention of a 'deal', the situation became a free barter market, regardless of where it sat on the bag lady's priority list.

"Seems that interceptin' my courier and claimin' you got his information ain't exactly the deal I was lookin' for tonight; now, I got neither the energy nor the patience to give two shits what y'all did with that miserable old prick, but I also ain't a fan of hearin' things by way of telephone. I'll pay, but I ain't payin' up front, and the amount entirely depends on how interestin' this conversation is. Oh, and how quick we can get outta here. Tripper ain't my favorite place to be."

Aguirre swished the bubbling liquid around the glass in her hand, anticipating a response.
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"Good," was all the woman said in response to Aguirre's indifference to her original informant's fate. "And if you don't like the pub, love, you're welcome to take a walk with us. I'm not married to the place."

She sounded amused as she said this. It was also notably queer that she said "us" instead of "me." Somehow that didn't sound like a trick of her thick accent.

Dandelion looked quizzically at Aguirre once she'd finished her conditions.

"You did 'ear the part where I said I don't want money, dear, didn't you? Or were you just torturing a metaphor there? Well, if you insist I suppose I'll take your quid, but as I said, your time is all I want. A chat about the state of the Barony you gad about in. Or the lack of Barony."

She sighed wearily.

"It might be quite a short chat indeed if you're one of those that Miss Scott was complaining about. 'Ow did she put it...'I don't trust anybody to make this bunch of punk wannabes move.'"

Dandelion performed an almost uncanny imitation of Victoria Scott.

"Yes. Those were the terms. Quite fed up with the people of Brent and Enfield the lady was. Not much faith left. Now I'm 'oping that there's more to the London Anarchs than Miss Scott thinks there is, as if we don't see some movement soon, then all you that call yourselves Anarchs will 'ave to move--to a different Domain or a different Sect--as without a Baron, this domain is up for whoever's quickest to grab it."

As she spoke, she plucked a manilla envelope from her white bag. It had the name 'A. Maddox' printed on the side. Apparently, Firewall like documentation, and Aguirre wouldn't have to worry so much about information being garbled through telephone.

"So I suppose the crux of what I 'ave to ask you, Miss Maddox, is quite simple. Are you game to do something about the miserably weak state of your Sect in this domain, or do you 'ave travel plans? If the former, speaking as the second in command of the oldest Barony in England, I 'ave some suggestions for you. If the latter, than I shall hand this off to you and tell you goodbye, as we're of no use to each other."
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Aguirre Efrain Maddox
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* * * * *
"We'll, uh, call it a tortured metaphor.. Or whatever."

One might have been able to hear the wind rushing over the Brujah's head when she realized she hadn't understood what the woman was saying before. Shit, that was embarrassing to say the least. First impressions were never good when one made themselves look like an imbecile, which Aguirre tried very hard not to be. Luckily she didn't have the ability to blush anymore. As if that mattered in the first place, especially at the mention of Victoria Scott. Whether it was instinct for her face to twist up into one of the most unpleasant expressions possible due to the last meeting they had or a distinct sense of insult written into her features by words she recognized to be the same arrogant statements she heard shortly before spouting off her own opinion and kicking off a catastrophe instead of participating in a sense of unity with the people in her sect. Then again, when everyone had a different understanding of what should be done, it was hard to unite; Tory, in particular, had a vastly unpopular opinion among the Anarchs. Still.. She was more ambition than most of the rest of them combined.

That, of course, was more of a refresher than simply sitting in stagnancy while everyone waited for the time that Nora finally sold the North to the Prince. Aguirre had no interest in being a slave to the same Camarilla pricks that had enslaved a good majority of the people she knew and loved and continued to make them miserable; she wasn't a cog in a machine that worked for no one's benefit but the Prince's. As selfish as it may have sounded, if she was going to work, she was going to work for her own fucking benefit--which happened to include protecting those she cared about, and within the confines of the Camarilla, no one gave a shit about each other. They gave a shit about the rules, all of the petty and unending rules. They cared about regulating and controlling the population when all it really took was a little common sense, not a series of executions. Kindred were not cattle. They had the capability to live for centuries, and to quell them like they were sheep who couldn't take care of themselves was an infuriating sight to see. She'd been to enough Camarilla functions to know that the people who worked under that lawbook were every bit as likely to make ridiculous mistakes as those amongst the ranks of the Anarchs.

In the same sense, she would never want to pledge allegiance or make allies out of the Sabbat. Especially after her experience in the Americas. It would equate to going from one controller to another, being a dog on the end of a slightly longer leash. These, of course, were things she didn't necessarily want to discuss in the presence of a pub full of mortals--more something she would share in the quiet recesses of an empty street, or at least outside. The appearance of the envelope was at least a little more compelling in application of why she'd actually showed up tonight.

"I never turn down a good suggestion. I'm also gonna take you up on that walk for privacy's sake."

She stood, trying to wipe the sour expression from her face, and would wait for Dandelion to follow her out the door--holding it open as the woman should the Nosferatu choose to pass through it. Brujah still managed to have some social etiquette.
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"Brilliant!" Dandelion said, clapping her gloved hands together in what seemed to be unfeigned delight. "Let's be off."

She also seemed immensely pleased, and perhaps somewhat surprised, to have the door held for her.

"Well, you are a duck! Thank you love. Nice to know some of us don't fall into the old trap of our Sect--mixing up being strong with being an arse."

The night air outside was cool, and unless Aguirre seemed to have a direction in mind, Dandelion would set off down the dark streets. As they passed the alley outside, she made a little shooing motion with her hand, seemingly at nothing.

"Long and short of it is that unless this domain starts acting more like a domain and less like a bunch of sods just 'anging about using the name Anarch, it's getting swallowed by the Cam, clobbered by the Sabbat, or picked at by Independents until there's nothing left. And If I don't mistake the rumblings I've been 'earing, and I'm a bloody Nos so that's unlikely, that all will start 'appening soon."

"Simplest solution is elect a Baron. Barons make domains look strong, or at least a BIT organized. Doesn't even 'ave to be much. Just a bloke with everyone's cell number what greets new blood and who everyone trusts to be on the level about what's what. Simple job. Anyone you like for it?"
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Aguirre Efrain Maddox
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* * * * *
This might have been more suspicious if it weren't for the fact that Dandelion was as pleasant as she was. Being approached by strangers who already knew who she was, after all, did tend to be a little disconcerting. Still, didn't seem as if this one in particular meant to cause her harm. In fact, seemed she mostly wanted to talk politics--which, despite Aguirre's limited knowledge of nightly Law and Order, did certainly seem to play a part in how fucked life had become. Attend one meeting, be made into a pawn (albeit unintentionally). Attend the other, frenzy at whichever idiot started the riot first. To have a civil conversation for a change would prove to be refreshing... Hopefully. Seeing the puff of cotton shoo at thin air didn't necessarily reinforce any kind of cold comfort.

Still, she could see the hazard in leaving the position open for much longer. This part of town, despite being a constant reminder of every mistake she'd ever made as well as every mistake Nora had never cared to fix, was her home--had been for going on thirty-three years at this point. She wouldn't see it taken apart by the Camarilla or the Sabbat if she had a choice in the matter. This part of town was the only free speech zone in the entire damn city.

It wasn't, however, the easy job that Dandelion made it out to be. If it wasn't for the fact that she'd known the prior baron, at least superficially, she would have taken the hint when it seemed that no one wanted the job. No one was clawing one another's eyes out for the position, no clan wars were being fought... Seemed as though the entirety of the sect was hiding, quite honesty. Figured.

"Ain't a single soul in this city that actually wants the job, else I'd have one or two in mind. One of my best compadres, Church, he's got the balls for it. Problem is, he hates politics like a snake hates a shovel, and it ain't the easy job you say it is."

She glanced up and down the empty street, checking that they were free of kine ears, and hoping she might catch a glance at whomever it was the woman had bade to leave despite the distinct impression they had tricks up their sleeves akin to Sawyer's and she wouldn't see them anyway. Nosferatu had to be crafty to survive, right?

"To be quite honest, ever since the collapse of the East--which, since you're Nos and all, I'm sure you've heard about through the grapevine--" Aguirre joked in response to the former's comment, "I think people've been frightened. More so since Nora don't seem to be around like she used to be, and even when she was, she mostly caused trouble herself when she wasn't too busy sellin' out. Things have gone still around here and people are just waitin' for a disaster with whatever breath they got left held in. Anybody that's been here awhile knows that our little slice of the pie gets hit by every epidemic, every catastrophe, every god damn war. Not that I know much more than what I been told or heard via hearsay. Lord knows that he-said she-said business ain't real reliable, but it's different when you see that shit in person."

The Brujah stuck her hands deeply into the pockets of her jacket, sighing on behalf of Anarchs everywhere.

"If you're so interested in the whole affair, I s'pose I could try to find my old contacts around here, see what everybody else's sayin'. I was acquainted with almost everybody at one point, but.. I took a little trip outta town for a couple months. S'pose I gotta start gettin' back in the game somehow. I'm sure we can all reach some sorta consensus."
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"I agree with you. Mister Church is a fine fellow for a brute squad, as I experienced personally the last time I was in town, but no, a bit standoffish for a leader. 'E could be a powerful support to a leader 'e liked, though. And yes, I suppose I do make it sound easier that it rightfully is. What I describe is the bare minimum. But the bare minimum would be better than this."

She listened attentively to Aguirre's views on the state of domain, and its reactions to various recent events. She clicked her tongue thoughtfully as she turned down another random street.

"I don't think your Nora will be around like she used to be for a good long time, for better or worse, so yes, I think reaching out to your contacts and chasing consensus would be a brilliant idea. I 'ave spoken to a Mister Gar, a fine old Gangrel who 'as a touch of reluctant interest in the position, but 'e's also solitary and I'm afraid 'e might not 'ave the patience to deal with our more difficult ilk."

"To be perfectly frank, Miss Maddox, I 'ave ulterior motives 'ere, but I do not think you or your sect-fellows will begrudge me them. As I mentioned before I'm in tight with the Baron of the oldest established Barony on this fair island--the one in Bath to be precise. If London falls, we'll be the only real Anarch domain in south England, and that's a sad position that we'd like well to avoid. I 'ave orders to do what I can to 'elp the locals put themselves in order, so if you need any 'elp finding or speaking with any of your fellows, please let me know."

She reached into her white bag and plucked out a business card. It appeared to be for a band called DANDELION AND THE FUCKTARDS. It has a telephone number on it. She offered it to Aguirre.
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Aguirre Efrain Maddox
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"Dandelion and the Fucktards? Sweet. Sounds... vaguely familiar."

One dark eyebrow perked up for a moment as she glanced between the woman and the card once or twice, wondering why that arrangement of words struck her brain away she thought she should remember. Obviously she didn't--had absolutely no idea why the fuck she should know this woman in the first place or what she had done to come in contact with the name on the card before. Probably wasn't important if that was the case, but it would still leave her scratching at her scalp for the rest of the night.

"Sure can't recall why. Cool. Also, uh, if you ain't opposed..."

She nodded briefly to whichever pocket she'd seen the puff of blonde hair stick the valuable manila envelope in; walking into the Tripper at all gave her the kind of anxiety that should have been rewarded with something, at least, if not what she'd come there to pick up in the first place. Plus, if Aguirre was going to get back in touch with the rest of the Anarch community, she'd certainly need the funds with which to do it. Internet at the apartment hadn't been paid since a month prior and she needed to snag some old man's wallet so she could use his social insurance number to open up a prepaid phone account. Shit, sure would be nice to have a phone again without the hassle of feeling shitty for it. Wasn't like she didn't intend to pay the bill, anyway.

"And, uh, honestly... I think you might be lookin' in the wrong corners of London if you're talkin' to that Gangrel dwarf. Ain't a bad guy, after all, just a little... Off puttin'. Anywho, guess it couldn't hurt to hit him up if I gotta. Ulterior motives or not, you're right, and I don't wanna end up bein' some pile of ash on the floor of the Prince's house. We ain't in the right shape to have the privilege of discrimination. Thanks for the walk."
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Dandelion
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Dandelion smiled broadly at the deja vu she'd inspired, but said nothing.

"Then find us someone better, Miss Maddox," she said encouragingly in response to Aguirre's estimation of Gar.

At Aguirre's gesture, she plucked the folder from her white bag and handed it to he Brujah. She kept her promises. She didn't seem quite ready to end the interaction though.

"I would appreciate your number in return, dear," she said, nodding to the business card she'd just offered up. "And if you Londoners don't come up with someone in the next month or so, I 'ave orders to try and step in as bloke with everyone's cell number and greets new blood. Interim baron until you come up with someone. I don't terribly want to as all this is taking me from my home, but I want my Sect to fall even less. You 'ave any objection to that, Miss Maddox?"
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Aguirre Efrain Maddox
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"No objections here yet Miss Dandelion, but, uh..." Aguirre paused, looked somewhat embarrassed; the first time anyone asked for her number in almost a year and she didn't have a number to provide. In the past, she had prided herself on being consistent, but now... Well, she didn't feel an obligation to just about anything besides London for one reason or another.

"...I ain't got a phone. And that ain't some shitty unoriginal lie, I actually had it stolen when I was outta the country. But listen," The Brujah held up her counterpart's business card for emphasis, "I don't make a habit of losin' shit. Business cards included. Soon as I get a phone you'll know about it."

The Mouse offered a smile, hoping that despite how much like an excuse that sounded, Dandelion would accept it as truth.

"I'm only just startin' to build back up from the bottom. This envelope, though? First step to stability. Then I'm at your disposal--for this purpose, anywho. I don't feel like bendin' knee to some fascist asshole in a fancy suit, either."
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Dandelion
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"That's fine then," Dandelion said. No judgements. Lots of vampires didn't do phones.

"If we can scrounge up a few as keen as you, Miss Maddox, we'll have this sorted in time for summer. So please do be off and find stablity. I'll be beating about the brush around 'ere for a while more. 'Ave a fine night, dear."

She put her gloved hands in the pockets of her dress, and turn to stroll back in the direction of the Tripper.

As Dandelion began to depart, a deep, male voice, speaking barely louder than a whisper, came from the air above and to Aguirre's right.

"G'night Miz Maddox."

There was absolutely no one there.
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