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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
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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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The three biker challenge; (Open, NPC welcome)
Topic Started: Tuesday, 15. July 2014, 11:04 (2,349 Views)
Rory Alasdair
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Red Rum
* * *
One eyebrow cocked upward as Rory heard Margo's angry words. Well, this was definitely not what he wanted to walk in on. If the supposed Ghoul of Primogen Harris hadn't showed up, it might have been quite the easy meal to poach from this sparky little pixie. But again, the Gangrel wasn't going to risk an offense against a whole Clan now. Whatever Margo was, it didn't sound like she was Brujah considering what the tall woman said.

Rory sighed, and with a bit of hesitation spoke up, trying to diffuse some of the tension. "Margo, was it? It'll do ye no good to go on threatening the Ghoul if she really belongs to Mister Harris. Kine or not, she'd be an extension of his power. Aye?" He said with an almost parental tone. Hopefully those were apt words. If a fight between Ghoul and Kindred broke out, instead of just some trespassed hunting, Rory would consider it in everyone's best interest to break it up. And he really didn't want to put his claws on the little woman. Or the big one. Call it chivalry, if you will. You'd be wrong, though.

When she kicked one of the downed men, to keep him down apparently, Rory's brow cocked once more. He wasn't sure if that was something to concern himself with. If they were George's herd or something, he was sure the Ghoul would point such out. Hopefully in a timely manner, before it had to be done again and brains ended up spilled.
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George Henry Harris
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Methuselah
* * * * * *
Looking at Margo as if she didn't understand the reason the little rose was upset, Jane gave her the latest newsflash, as Margo's seemed to be a bit outdated...

"Since we have a domain here now, there are rules which weren't rules like eight years ago... So the Newsflash would rather be: There used to be no trespasser named Margo, but that has changed by now..."

Jane shrugged upon the tone Margo thought Ghouls were supposed to speak in around Vampires... Good thing she wasn't employed by Margo, then...

"Tell you something: Just because you've got those fangs can do those fancy things, I'm not going to kiss your arse or even get any part of myself in there... Never been a toadie and not going to start with you... Not in my job description..."

She shrugged again and pointed at a familiar car appearing at the horizon, as if to say: here is the person coming who you should be talking about all that, I'm just the messenger...

"And just another thing that the boss might also tell you: It would be better not to make such a messy show just for a feeding the next time... if there is a next time for you here, that is..."


As the car came closer, she turned her focus on Rory, looking at him with a raised eyebrow, gesturing at the downed bikers.

"You know, I'm a bit curious what you do here... Don't seem to have a part in this. Never seen you on any meeting or in general before... Aware you might have a problem, if the boss doesn't know you and you're not family ?"

Anna wasn't given any notice, if she was still here when the car arrived, boss would have a talk with her, if not, not...
Languages: English, Welsh
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Solemn
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Neonate
* * *
Well, she'd given her the keys to a get out of angry brujah free card. (Mixed metaphors, much?) and the Rose hadn't taken it. That escape plan is looking more and more likely. Taking a few steps back, now that the focus is on the growling Kindred, Anna slips back into the corner of the allotment, before doing a quick turn, grab and pull up onto the nearest elevated surface, rolling straight off the other side and dropping into Obfuscate.

If they came for her, they'd likely run straight past.

Hopefully.
Spoken languages: English, German, Spanish, Russian, Welsh | < Fluent | Partial > | Japanese, Mandarin, Italian | Annabel is as avatar, but with hazel eyes. | Feral Whispers
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Margo Moreau
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Rebel Toreador
* * * * * *
Margo could feel the rumbling of the beast as it opened one hungry eye. An angry eye. Fixed on Jane. Margo stepped away from Jane and put up a hand. "Fine... fine... fine!" She snarled. Margo went up to one of the motorcycles and gripped onto it. "Just... stop talking to me. I need to calm the fuck down."

Margo was only at the bike for a few seconds before she started to pace. "These guys are going to start waking up. Whatever George has in mind perhaps we should take it elsewhere."

The little Rose was very irritated. She was hungry, and with the debacle this had become she was unlikely to eat any time soon.

"I doubt they are going to tell ANYONE that they got beat up by a girl." She smirked.
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English French Theme Songs: New Rose by The Damned, Mommy's Little Monster by Social Distortion
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Rory Alasdair
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Red Rum
* * *
Rory stood still as the corpse he is, shaded eyes flicking back and forth between Ghouls and Kindred. He didn't stop the smaller one from making an escape, or whatever she went off for. It didn't seem a Masquerade breach, so it was no concern of his what happened to her now. He shouldn't have come here, he now realized. More trouble than it's worth. Not even gonna get a taste of those sots, apparently. He was actively ignoring the Kine on the ground now, in an effort to stifle his hunger and keep his Beast in check. For now, at least.

Jane's addressing Rory provoked a small spark of defensiveness. Deep down, at least his Beast disapproved of the apparent dynamic. She was just food. "I'm just in the wrong place at the wrong time, it seems. I'll answer questions when yer boss gets here." He responded, keeping his composure.
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George Henry Harris
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Methuselah
* * * * * *
The car stopped and George got out, apparently not too pleased at the scene while Jane seemed a bit unsure what to do now. In the end she stood there, waiting what'd happen and kicked a biker into unconciousness, if needed.

George came closer and closer, looking not very amused and stopped about twenty paces away, looking at the scene before shifting his attention to Margo and Rory, as if awaiting an explanation, but not saying a word.
Languages: English, Welsh
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Margo Moreau
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Rebel Toreador
* * * * * *
Margo shook her head and walked right up to George. "Primogen Harris" Margo said quietly. She considered him a friend, but they were in front of another kindred and his ghoul.

"It seems that I have inadvertently trespassed into your domain on my hunt. I didn't know that... things had changed from when I had hunted here in the past. I apologize."

Margo was clearly irritated, but was keeping it together. Her feet were shuffling restlessly.

"I had things under control, though I had instigated a fight."
Margo gestured her little head back towards the two motorcycles that were still standing. "Needed to work some shit out, wanted it rough is all. That other kindred just happened along, he wasn't part of this. All me." Margo gestured towards Rory. "If you want to talk about this more, yell at me or whatever perhaps we should leave... those bikers are waking up. I doubt they are going to tell anyone that a girl beat them up."
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English French Theme Songs: New Rose by The Damned, Mommy's Little Monster by Social Distortion
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Rory Alasdair
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Red Rum
* * *
It was good to hear confirmation that the man was actually Primogen Harris. This might make things awkward, or it might just make Rory's stay in London easier for the time being. He had held off on contacting the Brujah immediately, until he had his own situation a bit more firmly entrenched. But now was as good a time as ever.

The large man approached carefully, letting his hands come out of his pockets to reveal the most obvious of his Marks. Dark red fur lined the creases of his knuckles, leaving his palms mostly human still, with a thicker pelt covering the backs of his hands and following up his wrists to disappear under the heavy coat which hid the darker coat underneath. Where nails would have been, there now adorned thick black claws curling slightly and sharp, akin to an ursine. Useless in fighting anything but soft Kine, and cumbersome in everything else, they presented a minor but obvious risk of the Masquerade.

Even so, with the bikers being kicked repeatedly into submission on the ground, by women no less, the coast seemed clear for now to show a little fur. Rory stopped a pace or two away from Margo and George both, offering a nod of acceptance to the Toreador's story. True, so far, at least.

"Aye, sir. I'm Rory Alasdair, Gangrel. We haven't met yet, but I was told we would work together... I only wandered through yer territory, not hunting or anything. But I'd be lying if I said I wasn't hoping for an opportunity, tho'. This scene, no such thing, but I stayed around just to make sure it wasn't a breach." He said, almost shrugging as he wondered if it would be appropriate to reach for a handshake or the like in this situation.
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George Henry Harris
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Methuselah
* * * * * *
George smiled and indicated with a gesture it wasn't much of a problem.At least not among friends.

"It's no problem... Next time you want to get something on over here, please give me a call, so I know you're here, okay ? I have no problem with guests, but I like to know I have them, you know ?"

Nodding to her words understandingly he winked at her after finishing speaking.

"We're going to talk about this, Margo, in a bit... Why don't you take what you came for while I'll have a talk with Rory here ? Won't take too long, I think."

Focusing his attention on the gentleman who had kept himself away from the scene until now and seemingly was wanting to talk to him, with a friendly smile.

"We certainly could work together if you want... In fact, I'd be glad to. What exactly would you like to talk about ?"

Languages: English, Welsh
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Margo Moreau
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Rebel Toreador
* * * * * *
...Why don't you take what you came for while I'll have a talk with Rory here...

"Oh thank gawd" Margo mumbled. She was so hungry!

Seeing George smile and wink at her she felt relieved she let out a single laugh through a smirk and bent a knee to him. George proved himself a friend and Margo wouldn't forget it. Coffee and tarts were on her next time.

"Yes, your Brujah-great-badassness. I shall call you before I come into your domain to beat the shit out of people and eat them."

She started to giggle but her fangs were already itching for her waiting meal. Margo walked back over to the bikers. The blood she had spent to give her manly muscles had faded and there was no way she was going to be picking these big guys up. But she was too hungry to worry about feeding privately. She was just going to have to bare fang in front of the other kindred.

Margo picked the biker who seemed the most awake and pounced on him. Her fangs sunk into his neck and she drank deep. She stopped and licked the wound, then checked the man. His pulse still seemed strong. He was just gonna have a hell of a headache. "Ugh, cheep beer blood" Margo spat quietly. The little Rose then went to the next one and drank some more... color came back to the Rose's face and her skin looked supple again.

Margo rolled onto her back and looked up at the sky licking her lips in satisfaction. After a few minutes she said "One left untapped if anyone's peckish."
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English French Theme Songs: New Rose by The Damned, Mommy's Little Monster by Social Distortion
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Rory Alasdair
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Red Rum
* * *
"In fact, I was told ye were looking for help on a Sabbat front." Rory said simply, gruff in accent, but polite in tone. Just low enough to not be heard by the nearby unconscious Kine, just in case. Rory was cautious, when he needed to be. "I suppose the only thing to talk about, for now, is where ye'd need me to be when the fighting- or planning, starts." He said with a gnarly smile.

That caution, control, was challenged when he heard Margo's offer of the third biker. The Beast was temped, ravenous and calling out for the leftovers. If it had it's way, the Gangrel would drain all three of them after the Toreador had her taste, leaving a mess to clean up for Rory's higher intellect. If it can be called that. He'd have to ignore that, even so peckish as he was, or risk slaughtering three Kine in front of a Primogen and presumably one of his Clanmates. He didn't need bad impressions with the Brujah, not now. Not ever, really.

He would just go out later, hunting for something else entirely, to sate his appetite...
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George Henry Harris
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Methuselah
* * * * * *
George nodded. He didn't know who told Rory but it wasn't important... Another participant was always good.

"Indeed I am. There'll be a meeting before the mission starts and there will be a call assembling the participants and telling the place where the meeting will be... Secrecy and all that, you know ?"

With a smile he focused his attention on Margo as she kind of offered her prey to them.

"That's very nice of you, Margo, but I have had my bit for the day..."
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Margo Moreau
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Rebel Toreador
* * * * * *
Margo heard George say he had his bit for the day. She raised her hand and with a click of her tongue gave him the thumbs up. She was not in any hurry to move.

She was gorged with blood and looking up at what stars could be seen. She had just been in a great fight. She was already feeling achy. It was the shit.

Meantime she listened to the boys talk. Grinning to herself. The beer and cheap whiskey blood tasted nasty, but the little buzz it was giving her was delightful.
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Rory Alasdair
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Red Rum
* * *
A nod was good. It meant acceptance, to a degree. And Rory fully understood the need for secrecy. Planning a raid on hostile Kindred, after all. That was high level risk, right there. But in the end, it would be best for the Masquerade to get rid of the troublemakers wherever they festered.

"Aye, sounds good to me. I'll be glad to do my part." He said with a nod. And get a chance at some stronger vitae, perhaps... The thought brought temptation back to the forefront. Always blood... Rory stole a glance at the bikers, so tempting. He'd drain them all, surely, if he gave in and took even a bite. Too risky.

Rory's movements were more mechanical in their effort as he resisted the Beast. Even his forced smile was not enthusiastic enough, he felt. He really was looking forward to getting in the thick of London's struggles, as well as he could, but he had his own issues to deal with foremost. So hungry...
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George Henry Harris
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Methuselah
* * * * * *
Margo got an appreciative nod and then Georges attention was on Rory again.

"Good... I'll count on you, good men are hard to find, after all... If there are no more questions on your side, I'd wish you a good night..."

Then there was nothing more to say, at least for him.

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Margo Moreau
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Rebel Toreador
* * * * * *
Margo rolled up to her feet and walked back over to George. "So, am I in trouble boss? Do I owe you anything for all this mess?" She waved back at the groaning bikers.

She glanced up, far far up at Rory. And gave him a little smile. But man... his eyes were unnerving. Margo was starting to think she was doomed to not get along with Gangrel.

Margo also leveled a glance at Jane if she was still around. She decided to just let that drop.
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George Henry Harris
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Methuselah
* * * * * *
Jane just stood there, keeping an eye on the bikers and possibly looking at them out of the corner of her eye, but not saying anything or doing more than standing watch.

George nodded on the question if Margo was in trouble with a shark-like smile.

"Indeed you are, Margo... And you owe me something, yes... First of all you owe me an apology and perhaps a promise not to hunt here again without my permission... As for the rest I'd say how about a dinner on you and perhaps a minor boon, if you don't mind..."

After these words the smile diluted into a friendly one, but the words still hung in the air...
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Margo Moreau
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Rebel Toreador
* * * * * *
Margo bowed her head in deference and said "Primogen Harris I apologize for my intrusion of your domain and hunting here without your permission. I promise that I shall seek your permission before hunting within your domain again."

She raised her small head and continued "I acknowledge my debt to you of a minor boon..." and the she smiled with a shrug "...and I will gladly join you for dinner, my treat."

Margo's brow rose "Though perhaps you might clarify exactly what you mean by... dinner."

She gave a quick glance towards Jane, then Rory before settling her eyes back on George.
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Rory Alasdair
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Red Rum
* * *
That will be all, then. "Good night, sir." Rory said simply, with a nod low enough to convey his deference. "I will take my leave, then, and be more mindful of wandering through your territory in the future." He added as he rose from his nod.

As well, a smaller nod was given to the Rose. "Well met, Miss Margo." He didn't smile, or even relax his mechanical movement. Now above all, he just wanted to get away from the other Kindred. To go find some actual hunting. He'd settle for deer at this point. Maybe he could procure a cheap bottle of whiskey and force feed the park critters? That would be duly cruel....

Rory would then turn to leave, back on up to Gangrel grounds, unless otherwise halted by the ranking Kindred...
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George Henry Harris
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Methuselah
* * * * * *
Neither George nor Jane made any motion to keep Rory from leaving and it didn't look like Jane had noticed Margo was looking at her.

Smiling George nodded as acknoledgement to Margos words.

"Good. By dinner I mean exactly that. At least once upon a time there was a place catering for us, the Brando, I think... Could be that there is a place like that here, though the Brando seems to be out of business..."
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