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The Kindred Chronicle
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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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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.

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Rolling in the Deep; Attn Jhael, George Henry Harris
Topic Started: Saturday, 7. June 2014, 17:49 (553 Views)
Bounce
Dweeb
* * * *
OOC

A synthesized cacophony of video game noises emanated from out of the dated electronic device in the boy's hands. A Playstation Portable, a piece of 2005 technology that was vintage for the fact that the one in the Kindred's possess was, indeed, one of the PSP-1000 models that had been the flagship of the design when unveiled in late 2004. The sounds generated by the mobile arcade were the product of a 2007 re-release of what had been a classic Playstation game from 1997: Breath of Fire III.

The young Warlock was again dressed to go out, but this time, unlike the last, he wore clothing that still reflected him as opposed to shaking hands and genuflecting while dressed as a proper Scottish school boy in suit and kilt. He'd traded in his polished leather brogues for a comfortable pair of Heelys, which were mostly white and featured a faded black skull on the high top ankle of the shoe. He wore of a pair of dark denim jeans and a lightweight red hoodie hugged his slight frame. The collar of a dark navy t-shirt was visible underneath, which was of a rather fantastic design on the front if it could be seen. C-3PO from Star Wars, riding a bicycle, with R2-D2 in a handlebar basket, soaring over a Death Star moon in a visual parody to the iconic scene in Spielberg's E.T.: The Extra-Terrestrial.

The youth sized watch with the black band and the cartoonish white skull on the face was on his left arm again, though no longer alone. Instead, a band of black speckled sandstone beads were wrapped around his forearm and hand. At first glance, or even the second, it appeared to be a set of rosary beads. Upon closer inspection however, the rosary had several deviations from the norm. To begin with, the cross which dangled so that it fell naturally into his palm whenever he lowered his arm was an ankh -- the ancient Egyptian symbol for life which had later been adopted by the Copts as a Christian symbol within early gnosticism. Further up the strand, where the loop of beads joined the singular piece that the ankh dangled from, another alchemical sigil attributable to Hermeticism appeared. One with a jeweler's eye would even note symbols and runes carved into the beads themselves, which were interesting as well for the slight taint of vinegar one could detect from them.

By appearances, an ordinary twelve or thirteen year old boy. Small, by modern standards, but nothing that suggested he was some kind of undead sorcerer who wielded blood as a visceral weapon and brought artificial life out of sinew and bone.

Harry Potter, he wasn't. Which was a shame, really. Quiddich would be brilliant if only it were real. No, he was something else entirely. One of the Low Clans. In the Dark Ages, they had emerged like a bomb amid vampire society. Usurpers, they were called. The devil in the dark looked at one like him and whispered, something wicked this way comes.

He was Tremere.

And that made everything about this evening all the more fascinating, both for who he was going to see and who was going to introduce him.

A black Audi A1 hatchback turned onto the street where the boy waited at the agreed upon meeting place. A glance at the watch confirmed that the time was still early, so perhaps that wasn't Prince Blucher's ghoul. Of course, Eion had been early to the meeting point precisely because it was the Ventrue's ghoul he was meeting.

Ghouls were never on time. If you were on time, you were late. You were only on time if you were early. So had it been for Eion, and Eion's masters hadn't been Ventrue.

He might have thought himself lucky, or perhaps Jhael had the benefit in that regard. But the truth was, they were both damned. Eion's death had been foretold the moment a Tremere had forced necrotic blood down the throat of a frightened young boy.

And it would be no different for Jhael.

One never survived being a ghoul. Death was inevitable, the only question was whether that death would be to the grave or to the Clan.

Of course, did one survive being Kindred? Being Tremere no less? Eion had at least survived his first meeting with the Prince. So now the Brujah. A most curious night to be certain.
Posted Image

To die, to sleep. To sleep, perchance to dream -- ay, there's the rub.
For in that sleep of death, what dreams may come...

- Bill Shakespeare, Hamlet, Act III, scene i


NOTE: Due to Admin changes, this character's Avatar was removed. This is the link to the old avatar:

http://www.baku-panda.org/eion/rotator.php
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George Henry Harris
Member Avatar
Methuselah
* * * * * *
Eion might not know it yet, but he had been noticed. A group of three men in black uniforms approached from behind and stopped to have a look at the scene for a while. Then George decided it might be a good time for a closer look and some answers. Rare was the non-local coming to Grove Ward and children doing so were even more rare, after all...

Setting for a distance of about ten feet between them, they formed a wedge pointing at Eion with George being the point. After another while he cleared his throat to announce his presence and see how the 'guest' would react...
Languages: English, Welsh
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Jhael
Prince Blucher's Dinner (still not quite house trained)
* * * * * *
En route to meet "Young Master" Macnab, Prince Blucher's Chief Executive Assistant was having his "me time." Steering with one hand, clove smoke drifting from the open window to join the not so fresh night air of London. Tonight, the young man had to look respectable, but at least he wasn't confined to that damn security guard uniform. He wore his vintage grey slacks and waistcoat with admiral blue liner and matching tie with a newsboy cap set at a jaunty angle over platinum bleached bangs that were ruffled and hair sprayed in a style reminiscent of early 80's new wave.

He bobbed his head and tapped his fingers to the wheel while singing along with his most favorite band ever. Alone in the car, got into it quite passionately, if not quite ready for Britain's Got Talent yet.

"What will happen to me... tell me which love's killing the mercy!"

The song was channeling and mending his frayed and battered soul, at least for these precious minutes. It had been a stressful week. Month. Evidence of that stress was left on the hood of his car in the form of a dented and wicked scratch in the paint that he hadn't had time to take in to be fixed yet.

When he neared their meeting place, he snuffed the butt of his cigarette out and waved his hands about to clear the lingering smoke out. He would usually have kept the air more clean, but a strange stench lingered since the night that left a dent in his car. Until he could take the car in, the clove masked it well. "Tell me who will die in the deep sea..." he was murmuring when he spot the apparent child standing where he should be. Looks just like a kid. So spooky.

Well, here goes! He gripped the steering wheel to brace himself for a disturbing night as he slowed down the street. When his headlights beamed on three big dudes approaching the "kid," his face darkened in a deep scowl and he twitched. For fuck's sake. He couldn't make out the Brujah Primogen from this distance and angle, so the obvious assumption was lowlives starting shit. More an annoyance than anything, he pulled out his phone in case he needed to threaten to call the cops on them. He figured the "kid" could take care of himself, but if Potter can't Potter in public, he had his mundane solutions.
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Bounce
Dweeb
* * * *
When it came to manipulating people, Eion was a terrible vampire. He displayed absolutely no aptitude for the powers which dominated the mortal or Kindred mind, and so he'd ignored that part of his education all together. Which was not to suggest that Eion ever said what he meant or meant what he said, after all, he was still a vampire even without the power to force his will upon others with but a stare.

His senses, however, quite sharp. The product of Auspex training that went as far back as when he'd been a ghoul. Had he known that he was being watched? Certainly not, he'd been enjoying his video game. But the break from that game, the glance up for the sound of the Audi car turning the corner, allowed him situational awareness enough so that he knew of at least one presence approaching before the sound of one clearing his throat reached his ears.

Note the masculine in that sentence. The gesture and tone suggested it was a male. And suggested an authoritarian attitude, in that it not only revealed the speaker but also made an implicit demand for attention.

For a moment, the boy debated palming the ankh. If the presence behind him was Kindred, then it was most likely Brujah. Who, for all their faults, were much faster than Eion was. So it was unlikely that he'd be able to complete the incantation to activate the enchantment on the sandstone cross and beads. If the presence was mortal, then Eion would need to use alternatives to magic. In either case, now wouldn't be the time to rely on his sandstone foci.

So, instead, he kept both hands on the Playstation portable, using one thumb to pause the game as he lowered it and stood, turning to face the presence that had announced itself. For a brief instance, a trick of moonlight perhaps, the child's eyes seemed to catch a momentary red glint to them.

A pale aura flickered around the one who stood but ten feet from him.

"A lie is a terrible way to say hello," the young Warlock noted in a matter-of-fact tone, his Scottish brogue fairly light but distinctive enough to mark him as a Briton. "There's hardly a tickle in the back of the throat of one who has no need to breathe after all," the boy went on to note, as he tucked the PSP away into the pocket of his jeans.

Did ordinary thirteen year olds talk like this? Probably not, but then Eion's resume was somewhat lengthier than the typical youth. None of which was the point. What was the point? He imagined it was the invitation that he pay attention to this trio, so it made sense to see what they would say now that they had it.
Posted Image

To die, to sleep. To sleep, perchance to dream -- ay, there's the rub.
For in that sleep of death, what dreams may come...

- Bill Shakespeare, Hamlet, Act III, scene i


NOTE: Due to Admin changes, this character's Avatar was removed. This is the link to the old avatar:

http://www.baku-panda.org/eion/rotator.php
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George Henry Harris
Member Avatar
Methuselah
* * * * * *
George shrugged on the point of lies being a bad greeting. The other figures stepped back behind him, taking some threat out of the scene.

"True, but sometimes it is necessary. Rules and all, you know ?"

After that he looked at his 'guest' with a non-threatening smile, folding his arms and after a while of thought he decided to get to the point.

"Well, as you probably know I'm Primogen Harris and Grove Ward is the domain of my clan... If you don't mind I'd like to know who you are and what business you have here."

The rest of the sentence 'and who sent you here' wasn't spoken but implied. Having said this George waited for a reaction and possibly answers, still smiling.
Languages: English, Welsh
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Bounce
Dweeb
* * * *
The child kept his eyes on the figure in front of him. Not holding his gaze or trying to stare him down -- in confrontational situations with strange vampires, eye contact could not only be threatening but an invitation for... problems of a more mental nature. Still, his peripheral vision monitored the two shadows stepping back, as well as the car that was now pulling up to the curb.

Jhael? Or another Brujah?

It was a risk, but Eion decided against looking over his shoulder to confirm one or the other.

The boy took the revelation as to the speaker's identity in stride. The man expected that Eion would already know who he was? Quite the ego on this one, particularly for a Brujah. "I didn't," the boy answered honestly, giving a slight shrug for that omission. To clarify, he added, "...know that you were Primogen Harris, that is."

Well, that might cut short his car ride with the Prince's ghoul. A shame, really. Eion was still curious to try and peel back the layers of the quiet young man, try to discern just what attracted the most powerful Ventrue in all of London to a displaced American youth.

"I believe your arrival may have accelerated events to a degree," the child noted casually, voicing aloud the thoughts of how convenient and inconvenient having the primogen here immediately presented for tonight's agenda. "You are the reason I am here, sir. Or, rather, a mutual German acquaintance of ours is the reason I am here. But he was rather insistent that I seek you out," the young Warlock offered in answer. If it was Jhael in the car now idling behind him, that would reinforce that it was the Prince that had sent him.

Or else this was the coincidences of all coincidences.

"My name is Eion," the boy stated, looking the man in the eye as he said his name, and politely inclining his head in respect to the elder. Well, any way you cut it, even if Eion were older he was still... Eion. If he lived to be a thousand, he'd likely still be calling everyone over eighteen 'sir'. "Mister Jhael can speak for the what or why, but the bottom line is... I'm here to help you kill Sabbat."

Not all that complicated. Though, as military drafts went, Eion wasn't likely to be picked first for Dodge Ball. Let alone Sabbat Hunting Parties.

God save the Camarilla.
Posted Image

To die, to sleep. To sleep, perchance to dream -- ay, there's the rub.
For in that sleep of death, what dreams may come...

- Bill Shakespeare, Hamlet, Act III, scene i


NOTE: Due to Admin changes, this character's Avatar was removed. This is the link to the old avatar:

http://www.baku-panda.org/eion/rotator.php
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Jhael
Prince Blucher's Dinner (still not quite house trained)
* * * * * *
The little black Audi stopped right behind what appeared to Jhael as nondescript old men looming over some kid at this time of night. So shady. Then again, it was shady for a kid to be out in the street in this shithouse neighborhood. Probably mistaken for some runaway, underage rent boy. With a sigh and shake of he head, he turned down his stereo, then lowered his window more and aimed his phone out flipped to camera mode.

"Alright, that's enough unless you want your face in the Daily Mail. Fiddle yourself tonight, because this kid isn't for you, buddy!"

Click!

The flash went off as he took the picture, but Jhael swallowed to see it was Primogen Harris' face lit up on his screen.

"Oh, Mr. Harris!" Uh...

"Hi!"

I'll just delete that... Clearing his throat, he turned off his car and erased the pointless picture, then stared ahead in his seat with his hands on the wheel as he tried to redo that entrance.

"Sir Harris, Sir Macnab," he greeted a bit stiffly.
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George Henry Harris
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Methuselah
* * * * * *
A certain German acquaintance... Why doesn't that surprise me ? Bad form, surely, but I appreciate the thought...

George nodded and wasn't really surprised about that. There were no folders about the primogen with photos and all, at least not for the newcomers... The fact that Alarik both sent a child embrace for aid and put him directly into his domain without notice did surprise him thopugh he tried not to show that...

"I am. And I do think, we should have a talk about how you can assist me on my mission, if you don't mind..."

He wanted to speak on but just then a photo was shot and a familiar voice reached his ear, apparently confusing him for a pedophile. With a sharklike smile he went to the car and confronted the Communist lackey.

"Oh, but it seems to be, in a way... Your presence here just confirms that. I'd ask you to stay and join us for a bit of a talk, for you have a part in this as well, haven't you ?"

Then he went back to Eion. There were a few things to be discussed, after all...

"Hope you don't mind me asking but what clan do you belong to, Mr. Macnab ?"
Languages: English, Welsh
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Bounce
Dweeb
* * * *
The boy's head spun as the Brujah's comment was interrupted by the flash of a camera, Jhael's voice adopting an oddly authoritarian tone as he barked something out about fiddling.

Well, he was a Ventrue ghoul after all. Curiouser and curiouser...

As for what he had said, the young Warlock adopted a confused look as he tried to make sense of the modern parlance. "Wait, no... What? Fiddle? What fiddle..?" the boy stammered weakly, his words more and more confused as the sound of his own voice dissecting the commentary gave sudden insight into it's possible meaning.

"Oh," Eion uttered simply, as the proverbial lightbulb came on over his head. And then illuminated as the meaning finally registered. "Oooooohhhhh..."

Did Mister Harris have such tendencies? If so, then Eion was horribly overdressed. "Is that what this is?" the boy tossed back at the ghoul in a dry, almost teasing manner. "If I'd known, I'd have worn the kilt and rolled it up a piece."

It might have been a joke, but for the fact that he was surrounded by Brujah as likely to stake him as to tolerate him a minute longer. And then Primogen Harris went and did something entirely common sense. He asked the identity of the boy's Clan.

Well, that was a loaded question.

"Not at all, Primogen," the boy remarked, prefacing the answer to give himself time in which to mull over what more to say. He could explain why Jhael was there. He could comment that he understood the Brujah wasn't going to like the answer. He could spout some meaningless dribble about how he hoped to improve relations between their Clans.

Instead, he opted for the plain fact. "I am Tremere, Primogen," the boy supplied, raising his eyes to look up at the Brujah as he addressed him.
Posted Image

To die, to sleep. To sleep, perchance to dream -- ay, there's the rub.
For in that sleep of death, what dreams may come...

- Bill Shakespeare, Hamlet, Act III, scene i


NOTE: Due to Admin changes, this character's Avatar was removed. This is the link to the old avatar:

http://www.baku-panda.org/eion/rotator.php
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Jhael
Prince Blucher's Dinner (still not quite house trained)
* * * * * *
"I do, sir, and nothing would make me happier!" Jhael answered Mr. Harris, looking ahead to take in such a hospitable street lined with busted lamp posts and tipped garbage bins. FML.

He turned the key and his Audi stopped rumbling at the curb, though he regret it immediately. All it would take is going around a corner for the lumpenproles to swarm and strip the vehicle. His worry was interrupted by Mister Macnab getting all inappropriate. Jhael sunk in his seat an inch with a faint grimace. When he could force himself to look at the "kid," he couldn't fend off the thought that Wesley would have been around that age...

Before the melancholy thought grew, glass shattered in the distance and he flinched. Lovely neighborhood, this.

"Primogen Harris, sir? Do you want me to take us all somewhere a little more private?"
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George Henry Harris
Member Avatar
Methuselah
* * * * * *
George looked at Eion, apparently a bit surprised, than started to laugh.

"Oh, really ? That's quite a surprise, don't you think ? After all the trouble with O'Dwyer..."

After a couple of minutes he slowly calmed down again, thinking for some minutes before speaking again.

"Anyway, we shouldn't really discuss the details here, don't you think ? Something... less public would be better suited for that."

Having said this, he turned his attention to Jhael, who had said something about that and nodded with a faint smile.

"Indeed I would appreciate that. The question would be where that is however..."
Languages: English, Welsh
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