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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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Dreams are my reality
Topic Started: Monday, 16. June 2014, 00:31 (395 Views)
Marthereau
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Death of the party
* *
It had started with a simple note in his dead drop. A small piece of paper, folded and crammed into the opening. The message on it was short.

"Hey. It's Jane. Have you ever been in torpor? If so, please call me."

It was a curious request so he had made his way to the city proper and located a payphone to answer the call to find out what this was about. He'd fed some coins into the
phone and had waited until Jane took the call.

"Hello ?"
'You posed an interesting question on your note. To answer it, I have. I was wondering why you'd ask something like that.'
"I am doing research on how the process works. Would you be willing to tell me what the experience of going to sleep was like?"
'I would. Any place you'd like to meet at ?'
"Anywhere you're comfortable. Thank you."
'I like Beddington Park. Nice and secluded. Time and date at your convenience'
"In an hour?"
'An old man is no express. Make it one and a half.'
"Sure. Thank you."
'See you then'

So they had gone and met at a bench in Beddington Park. His favourite bench, but that wasn't important really. It was quiet, secluded and only moderately lit.Not too many distractions, which was good. So they had sat down and had a talk about the things that Jane had contacted him about.

'I was on the way back to the States from Great Britain. It must have been about... 60 years ago. The normal way of travelling I prefer is either being livng cargo or travelling staked with a ghoul looking after you. That time both of it wasn't an option, so I tried if I could do without. I could. Compared to the alternatives, it was a rather comfortable way to be and I would take it everytime if I had the choice. Would you mind telling me why you are researching on this ?'

Jane explained that she'd recently discovered that it was possible for a vampire to be staked, and to starve and be trapped in a pretty horrific state, and that she was afraid of it happening to her, and wants to make sure she knows how to enter torpor willingly instead of starving into it. She asked for details about how it felt to fall asleep, how he willed himself into it.

Jean nodded and scratched his chin in thought.

'It was the closest thing to sleeping and dreaming I had since my passing. Only it lasts longer so you have a lot of dreams. Good ones. Bad ones. It is hard to describe, as with real dreams it can be chaotic at one point and completely realistic at the other, mostly muddling up in the middle. When the lines between past and present get blurry... Well, you won't remember half of it if you awake anyway. But that is the catch. I could see why someone would prefer to stay in that state longer, content to just dream and forget in peaceful slumber. So waking up is the most serious issue, next to a safe resting place. While it was not really refreshing, it was a - nice change.In fact I was tempted to sleep just a few more days, but I could overcome that very very easy. I think that was because I was still quite young back then. But that also worked on the other side as well. It was very hard to find the right state of mind and to attune myself to it. Emptying my thoughts and shut out the hectic thoughts and thinking processes, enter the silent calm. It was hard work, I had to force it. I'm older now and if I concentrate on it and look thoroughly, I think the pull is stronger than it was back then. I'm calmer, more focused. I think I could get into the mood easier, if you will. But it would also be more tempting just to sleep a little bit longer than intended. Just the famous five minutes. But that is me. You will need more opinions on this.'

A short pause followed. Jane looked as if se thought about what she had heard.

"Can you read minds ?"
'I can.'
"Can you also write into minds ? In a way ?"
'Hrm, I could, why do you ask ?'
"Do you think you could... show me what it was like ? Remember how it was for you ?"
'It has been a long time and I don't remember all of it, but I could try if you think it is worth a try.'

Jane nodded, happy Jean had agreed to help her, but still somewhat subdued as she'd been through the entire conversation.

"Okay," she said. "Okay."

Then she spread her hands. "What should I do? Should I do anything in particular?"

'Try not to think of too much you don't want me to know. Im trying to project, but it always goes both ways, so a bit might carry over. Empty your thoughts and pick up whats coming in. Relax and don't tense up too much. Be as comfortable as possible and most importantly, don't
try to fight it too much. You will feel the urge to, but if you resist too hard, the connection will be severed.'
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Jane Marlow
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Vampire Damage Control Professional
* * * * * *
"Don't think of pink elephants," Jane muttered as Jean gave her instructions.

Obviously she immediately started to think about everything she didn't want anyone to know. Where she lived. The vulnerable, human people she cared about. Exactly how often she thought about the fact that the world would be better if every vampire on it were dead, for real this time, and exactly how often she wondered if she weren't going about her life the wrong way.

She closed her eyes. She gave every one of these dangerous thoughts a moment of attention, and then tried to let them go. She thought up a catchy song, and started going through the lyrics in her mind.

On the third verse of "The Yellow Submarine" she nodded shortly to say she was ready.
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Marthereau
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Death of the party
* *
In the meantime, Jean had begun to concentrate. Shutting out the distractions outside and just focusing on the task at hand. Jane nodded as soon as she was ready and so they began. He closed his eyes and reached inside, tapping the reservoir of his mental capacities. It stirred, slowly at first, then began to swell and boil towards the surface like water. The level slowly rose until it was high enough that he could drain some of it and redirect it for the purpose he had in mind. As soon as he had collected a sufficient amount to use, he felt out for the other mind in the vicinity. Jane's was the only one to be found and she wasn't too far away. There it was ! He picked the presence of the other consciousness up and started to redirect the torrent towards it carefully. Slowly. There was no need to press it, they had time and she was after all, expecting it and not resisting too much. At least at this point. But forming a stable connection would be different from the normal on-off use he preferred. And perhaps a bit more uncomfortable.

To Jane, it initially felt like a dull tingling inside the back of her head that was building up bit by bit and then very slowly started to spread as the tides of Malkavian consciousness that began to surround her mind rose. Finally her mind was entirely submerged and the tingling gave way to a slightly chilly sensation that disappeared after a while and a light feeling of increased pressure inside her head was all that remained. And although Jean held back for now to allow her to get used to the sensation, the acid of his Malkavian mind went to work on the consciousness that was engulfed by it, and started to try and gradually erode the barrier that stood between it and the otherwise unprotected mind, only held back by the Malkavians will for now.
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Jane Marlow
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Vampire Damage Control Professional
* * * * * *
"Hmm," Jane said. That felt...really obvious. Cameron would have noticed if it had felt like that. Or maybe this was just because she was paying attention? If she didn't know someone was about to read her mind, she might chalk it up to a migraine.

She did get a sense of him...trying to get in? Push in? It was a bit unpleasant. Like a nagging thought.

She let the nagging thought in. Uncomfortable as it was.

Jane's surface thoughts were all swirling around worrying about the fact that telepathy seemed kind of obvious and how could she ever use it productively to read people's minds covertly if it felt like this and maybe that was actually for the best because civil liberties and we all live in a yellow submarine...
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Marthereau
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Death of the party
* *
The pressure ebbed off a bit as she heard a disembodied voice in her head.

"It harder with Kindred. Needs more effort and concentration. Also remember what we're trying to do here. I need a bigger canvas and keeping that one clean from the bits and throughts flying around is difficult. Thats why its this noticable."

There were also other things that came at her as she listened. A feint sort of background amusement, just welling up for a moment before it was gone. A bit of sympathy, mixed with concern. Then the pressure grew again and the impressions had disappeared as if they had never been there in the first place.

The inside of her head cleared up and the rescinding black started to form outlines. Feint clutter was reaching her ears, gradually getting louder. until she recognized... steps. The blurry outlines combined into metal walls with pipes running along them. A metal floor. It was smelling of fuel, grease and salt. She was moving through a corridor towards an open door. There were a lot of crates but one stood out. Not physically, but because she knew it was her crate. Her right hand ran over the side of the crate as she climbed in and darkness came back when she closed the crate and was left with only the smells. Someting was inside the crate that allowed for more comfortable resting. She knew there was the stake option, but she'd need a partner in crime for that. And while there was no actual memory to be gained. The thought filled her with the knowledge that this had barely worked the last time and might be a bad idea. So she tried a different approach, just lying herself to rest and close her eyes.

It worked as well as she imagined. She was as awake as she was after getting up well-rested and everything. Not an ounce of sleep in sight. The funny thought occurred that she wasn't... sleepy.
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Jane Marlow
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Vampire Damage Control Professional
* * * * * *
Oh. He could hear what she was thinking.

He could probably hear that too.

Don't think anything embarrassing.

James Henderson is cute in a kind of Pride and Prejudice sort of a way, but probably evil.

Dammit.

More Yellow Submarine.

No, better, immersing herself in the memory...
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Marthereau
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Death of the party
* *
An annoyed frown on her forehead as she thought about what to do. She felt the light itch in her head rise up again as she forcefully tried to empty her head. Shoving all thoughts away that might distract her from her task and keep her attention astray. It was hard and felt a bit like trying to drain a leaking boat with her bare hands. Most of what she tried to get rid of trickles back in and othe things added to it by slowly dripping in from her subconscious.

It was hard work, I had to force it. Back then, the pull was weak.

Something changed. The leakage slowed and her effort slowly grew more effective. Her mind detached herself from the boat metaphor and the emptying work. The whole thing started to fade into the background as she listened into herself, feeling for the pull that was rumoured to exist some place back in there, waiting to pull her into the sleep of ages. Every now and then some of the tiny pieces and fragments slipped through and managed to make themselves even more noticable as small colourful spots on the bright and clean canvas. Wiping them off diverted her concentration but it was easier than trying to empty the boat. It still took long and time trickled by and minutes dragged on like a rubber band being slowly pulled at from two sides. She also didn't have a watch to check, which made it more striking.

There was the feint smell of blood, or so she thought for a moment. She re-focused and got back to the task at hand. She didn't allow her resolve to falter and blocked the outside influences and relaxed a bit before trying it again. And again. And again. After a few tries, she felt the small droplets of blood slowly trickling down her head. And decided to go for a last attempt. The Malkavian wiped the slate clean again and let out a short breath.

It was very hard to find the right state of mind and to attune myself to it.

Truth. It had been so far. She shuffled her feet a bit and re-entered her inward-focused mindstate.

Emptying my thoughts and shut out the hectic thoughts and thinking processes...

She started to listen to what was going on inside herself. Letting the thoughts drain out and only pushing slightly instead of pushing with all her might. Concentrating was harder now, her mind felt fuzzy and unfocused and yet... clearer. Easier to empty. After a while, she was surrounded by darkness and silence, like she'd been so many times before already. But something was different. There ! Jane thought she felt somethign behind her forehead. A small... tug ? Or was it ? She focused. Again ! And again ! It became stronger and more frequent.

Then it was gone and everthing fell quiet.

Until the birds on the meadow and in the woods bursted into song.
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Marthereau
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Death of the party
* *
She found herself at the edge of the woods, it was early, of course, but then, if you went out hunting it was important to go early, otherwise you wouldn't find anything worthwhile to shoot. Uncle Enrique was walking on the right, carrying his rifle in the crook of his arm, like he always did. It was his usual ritual, going hunting early before preparing everything for mass. He gave Jane a quick sign and disappeared in the undergrowth. She ducked and saw the deer that was standing in the distance, largely unaware of their presence. Its ears were busy though, and it looked highly attentive, trying to determine if there was any danger ahead. Taking a tree as cover, Jane aimed through the rifle's scope and held her breath as she pulled the trigger.

The rifle clicked empty and the droves of grey figures still came running at them. Although many were lying on the ground and in the craters and quite a few riddled corpses were hanging in the wires, they kept coming. Jane cursed and threw the rifle away and jumped off the step behind the breastwork. Notime to reload and the weapon was too bulky to use in the confined space down here. A quick look to the right. Perriere and Gerard had started lobbing grenades now. To the left, the Sous Lieutenant was shouting orders at Tonnerre and the Mesnils. Jane found time to wonder once more about the Junior officers appearance. She would have lumped him in with the older men of the company, even if she knew for a fact that he was only 22 years old. He had aged fast in the three months he had been with them and looked twice his age under the dirty helmet. She returned her attention to the breastworks and pulled out the revolver. When the first enemy face appeared and looked down at her, she pointed the gun at it and pulled the trigger. The face exploded and her vision was filled by a bright flash of light.

When she was able to see again, she found herself on the stairs in front of a small house. Some of the crowd in front of them were still taking pictures. Jane looked down at the small bundle she was holding, her and Aurelie's first grandchild, who's christening had brought them all together. She looked over at Aurelie, her wife. Like herself, she had gotten older and time had carved its marks into her, but Jane still saw the woman in her that she had married 28 years ago. Next to her were the kid's parents, their daughter and her husband. She looked over the crowd and couldn't prevent getting sentimantal at the view. All had come. Uncle Enrique, despite his old age, obligations and the distance involved. Most of the extended family were there too. To her great surprise and delight, there were even the others she had come to see as family. Sous Lieutenant d'Hennecourt and the others. Caporal Bertrand, by now a pensioner, Tonnerre and Mesnil, still silently bickering among themselves. Gerard, close to retirement and not very well aged, but still an imposing figure. Rangabè, Lafontaine and Marlin. She could even spot Maldonado and Hadley in the distance, luckily it was overcast, so the sunlight wouldn't harm them too much. Lightning erupted from the clouds as she left the stairs to allow for some more pictures without her. The thunder cracked through the air loudly and suddenly. Jane saw that none of the old 'uns went to ground. They had been able to get rid of the burden of the war and found their peace. It made her happy. Then the rain started falling and the sky went black.

The corridor was dark and silent. Only the steps echoed through the long hall. They came closer and closer and Jane knew what this meant. It was time again. She didn't have a clock. She barely had anything, really. She looked from one bare wall to the next. The room was small, three steps from wall to wall. Blank white walls. No window. A bare and worn-out lightbulb far over her head provided some weak light. She ran her fingers over the bare bunk she was sitting on, her feet kicking against the bucket that was her version of a toilet. The steps stopped in front of the door. She heard the clinking of the keys and the lock being opened. She felt the impulse to get away from the door as much as possible, but she knew it was futile. There was nowhere she could hide. The door opened and bright light came in. Marcel had the handcuffs in his hands already, like always. He was grinning from ear to ear, also as always. His spotless white uniform with the cold light coming in from behind his back built a stark contrast with the stained and dirty striped outfit Jane was wearing. He invaded her space and extended his fat fingers to her, the other hand on the grip of his truncheon.

"Guess what time it is ?"

Oh, yes she knew what time it was. The thought alone served enough to fill her with dread and make her tense up. But then something happened. She felt like something was dragging her out of the cell and back into the darkness. She felt something in her head, clearly foreign. Anger. Frustration. Hate. Although she knew there might be some pretty disturbing stuff ahead possibly, she felt curious about what would come up next. It was like going to the cinema for a surprise movie a bit. Although she couldn't be sure what was on, it was exciting to see whether she knew what was up and whether she remembered all the little details and whether she remembered them correctly. Leaving now would be like leaving in the break, especially when the room was warm, cozy and offered hot cocoa and the outside was cold, harsh and full of despicable things that could wait to be dealt with. And she remembered the effort she had needed to get in in the first place. Might as well see the whole show, or at least a few more snippets ?

No. She pulled herself out of the chair. It was a real shame, it was really comfortable and by now adjusted to her. if she left, she would have to get everything into place again. And the movies would be different too. They never played them identical anyway. She would never know what she missed out on. It didn't matter. Her attention shifted and some sounds worked their way into her perception. Harbour cranes. People. Traffic. It might make getting out of the crate difficult, but it had worked for now. All she needed to do was wait until it seemed appropriate to break out and see where and when she was. She clenched her fist and slammed it into the lid of the crate.

Dim light and the smell of moist air came to her nose and she felt the gravel she was lying on. Her eyes found the dim lantern in the distance. She was on the ground in front of the bench. It was silent, it was dark. She was back in Beddington Park.

And she was alone.
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