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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 Pretty Reckless; - Corbin
Topic Started: Wednesday, 20. August 2014, 18:41 (584 Views)
Mac
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Goddess of Fuck and War
* * * * *
While the fire spinners in Einfeld weren't as top notch as the ones she'd originally connected with in Camden, they were at least entertainment. There were a handful with real talent, who could spin it like her old troop Orbital Flame decades before in Memphis. A handful of beginners, like everywhere, plagued the better spinners like little mosquito's hoping to feed off their talent. Only three people were allowed to spin at once, those that weren't in the large rock lined circle were either fueling at the fuel station to one side, or drumming. They were loud, the chorus of different kinds of drums all creating a ballad of epic thrumming for the spinners to engage with. Heavy bass filled the area, and people who were drawn to the bright and fiery performance stood beyond the safety line of rocks. Whenever a spinners fuel burned low and their poi, or staffs were losing their glow, the spinner left the circle to let a new one light up. The initial burst of fire that came from the light up was immense, a staff being spun and tossed in its initial blaze could throw a bright orange glow for a twenty foot radius for a few seconds. The glow died quickly though, and only the streaming lines of fire in motion could be seen creating beautiful arches of sunset glow.

She didn't spin after dark, it was a rule... but rules now and then were bent when there was a circle of assholes chanting "Tosh Tosh Tosh!". It was the only place she ever allowed anyone to call her Tosh, as if she had a fire spinning alter ego that was strictly separate from her everyday personality of Mac. Tosh was significantly more dull than Mac, because Tosh was a semi normal person. At least, she pretended to be. When her name was chanted in a circle, she was sitting ring side watching the others burn out while she led the drumming. At first she'd told them to fuck off, but the chanting just got louder. When the grinning expression of Abigal passed over a bright, glowing joint and exhaled a cloud of delicious herby smoke into her face, she snagged the joint between two fingers and raised it to her lips with a deep inhale. She burned it out in one long breath of splendid calm. She pulled the small red cherry from her lips and rolled it between her fingers to put it out.

"Fine." Her voice was leveled with grumpy tones, eyebrows thickly creased as if she didn't absolutely love the glorifying attention that was being placed upon her person. Bitch was a glory hog. Was she going to do meteor, staff, or poi? Rope Dart. She moved to pick up the long chain, wrapping the excess length up over her left arm back and forth between shoulder and forearm loosely. She moved to drape the end and let it soak in the kerosene, moving back and forth on the ends of her sneakers trying to gauge a feel for the shift in drumming. They'd dropped down from a speedier beat, because Rope Dart wasn't about speed as much as it was about precision. The longer chain made for larger loops, and the beat fell into the heart beat like tattoo she liked to move to. Her ripped jeans scraped under the back of her heels, so trodden upon that they had worn away the back few inches and left tatters around the hem in addition to the large rips that crossed over her legs and left half an asscheek hanging out. She wore her typical black wife beater, dreads pulled up into a massive dreadbun atop her head to prevent losing anymore ends to fire.

Once she'd soaked the ball in fuel, she moved to light up from a spinner that was on his way out. The last lick of flame on the end of his poi touched the kevlar/cotton blend wick of her rope dart and it crackled with a whisp of fire. She moved over to her own space in the circle of stones that lined the safety zone, and bounced on her toes a moment as if trying to find the beat. The small flame on the end of her chain hung loosely, tipping back and forth while she tried to find the beat. The moment she did, she moved into action. She needed to spin out the excess fuel on the end of the meteor first, and it swung above her head in a blinding burn of yellow as it picked up speed. Small splatters of flame flew out as the kerosene came off, but burned to nothing before it ever hit the ground.

The art of Rope Dart itself was slower than poi, which did not mean it was a slow art but was simply not done at a maniac speed of constant circles. It used feet and hands to redirect the ball of flame as it swung in the air, Excess chain was taken up or given slack, so the ball of fire could speed outwards to the end of it's given length and be snapped back to the spinned with a jerk of the wrist. Heels and ankles jumped off the ground to kick the dart, the chain wrapping up and around a leg and then being redirected. The wrapped leg would move, snapping free and giving excess speed and force to the weighted ball of fire at the end and causing it to move in an unexpected direction or angle. While the flame burned, she got lost in the movement. She'd been spinning since she was a kid, since Karen had connected her with the fire spinners in another life so that she could fuel off that rage and aggression into something positive. She burned all that off lately in other places, and spinning was almost a joyful escape for a few brief moments. When the meteor ran dry of fuel, and the music slowed in its beat to a finishing tempo, she was coated in sweat and her skin raged with heat and the smell of burning.

She sucked up any and all applause and attention, moving off side to wrap the end of the dart and kill any small flame there. Then she needed a drink, and she'd move to snag up her old, beaten to shit flask that sat amoungst the drummers. She draped her rope dart over her shoulders loosely, giving her 'friends' the middle finger as she shrugged.

"I'm off for a booty call, you fuckers don't get in shit. Except Carl, get him in shit and get him arrested. He's annoying."
Carl was just passing by her, heading to fuel up. He shot her a rude little glare, but didn't take it personality as he made a face. She made a face back, slapping one tit as she spun to head out.

"Abi, you got another?" She'd pause as she trekked directly through the drummers, stopping by Abi to be passed an unlit little blunt by one of her favorite of the stoners in the group. "Cheers bitch."

She'd head from there, crossing the park they were spinning in while lighting up the spliff pressed between her lips. She was way to hot, skin slippery with a layer of sweat not from the excertion of spinner but from the heat of the summer combined with the heat of the fire. She hated summer, she needed the cooler temperatures to keep her naturally over heated system from frying. It was time for a cold shower, and food. She needed a few pounds of bacon.

Edited by Mac, Wednesday, 20. August 2014, 18:45.
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"You are so fucking Camarilla. All hope and optimism. Maybe we can mount a rescue mission, and everyone can have a cupcake party, and fly around on Pegasus unicorns pooping rainbows."
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Corbin Grayson
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* * *

Corbin continually scanned the crowd, his dark eyes moving unceasingly over the people crowding the area. It was the flashes of fire that first caught his attention. He watched in admiration as the show went on, the Beast allowing that due to the safety of distance between him and the burning tools of the art. One woman in particular stood out and not just by manner and attitude.

She was tall, with attractive auburn hair worked into intricate dreadlocks the draped over her shoulders and moved with her body, almost as an extension of it, adding to the flare of her movements. She had beautiful pale skin that was dotted with freckles, an almost cute look that was contradicted by the sheer size of her. She seemed to tower over all the women around her and even most of the men. Tall and graceful, carrying herself with a confidence most could never achieve.

He had set out tonight to explore the area and find anything of interest and this woman had just lept to the top of that scale. Corbin stepped out from behind the corner of the building he was hidden by and made his way closer, still skirting the shadows and trying to maintain a safe distance from the twirling torches down below. He continued to watch as she worked a large flaming ball on the end of what looked like a chain or thick rope, twirling it in a way that displayed a dazzling show.

Once finished the gathered crowd cheered and applauded, rightfully so. She exchanged a few words with some of them and walked off to the side where something else caught his attention. He could smell it now on the night breeze as well; the unmistakable tinge of marijuana in the air. His Beast stirred and even though he was still adequately supplied with nourishment he wasn't full, and there was always room for more.

Corbin's eyes narrowed as he watched her making her way away from the crowd and he began his pursuit. 'Seems as though tonight will be full of pleasant surprises,' he thought with a tight wolfish grin.


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More About Corbin: Moving the Pawns - Feeding Time
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Mac
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Goddess of Fuck and War
* * * * *
The joint between her lips burned slow, she didn't need to reef back and warp her mind in one fast shot, even if the effects were so temporary on her ventrue system that half the time she wondered why she bothered. She wasn't in need of the soothing, humanizing effects, she was in a relatively good mood from a good spin out and looking forward to a night of getting punished in all the right ways.

To bad something was creeping up on her in the darkness. If she wasn't such a freak, and didn't just break one of her biggest rules 'no spinning after dark' she might not have heard him. As it was? Spinning at night drew attention, she'd been plucked from her mortal existence because of spinning, and the attention it garnered was no surprise anymore. She was half waiting for her ego to bite her in the ass, she should have never risen to the attention of the crowd. Fucking glory hog. Who was on her ass this time? They were relatively quiet, although not quite as creepishly silent as the woman who should have stomped like a rhino but instead moved like a ghost.

She wouldn't fuck off, although the thought was entertained for a few moments. Could she just disappear into a tree line somewhere? Possibly, but the area was sparsely wooded... Pop upwards and hide? Maybe, but she doubted it. Taking off also wouldn't let her know who exactly was on her ass, and her usual Cammie paranoia was shaking the bars of it's cage in the back of her mind. Was it sawyer? Was it Jane, whom she had yet to meet but knew was the other fucking sheriff twat she needed to watch out for. A scourge maybe? ...

She needed to find out, and to do so she'd provide someone with an ample opportunity to 'jump' her. She took out her flask, lifting it to her mouth to take a large mouthful of liquid and pretend like she'd stopped for a drink. She hadn't, she was loading a mouthful of flammable liquid to burst in someone's face it she needed to. If they had celerity she needed to have fire. Her rope dart still hung around her shoulders, as she 'knelt' down to feign tying her shoe lace to try and gauge the situation better... And see if they'd spring.
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"You are so fucking Camarilla. All hope and optimism. Maybe we can mount a rescue mission, and everyone can have a cupcake party, and fly around on Pegasus unicorns pooping rainbows."
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Corbin Grayson
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* * *


Corbin glanced around again and made sure none of the crowd was following the woman. As she passed through the park she crossed a wide open area with next to no cover. Corbin knew it was risky but if he didn't give it a try she would surely be gone before he could circle around and find her again. With a final decisiveness he rushed across the open area, his eyes staying fixed on the woman as she stopped for another swig from what looked like a flask and again Corbin's Beast stirred. He could almost taste the flavors mixing in her blood right now.

Once across the expanse he slowly half-slid into place near the base of a tree, his movements not making much sound at all as he crouched down to the damp, muddy earth. It was dark, really dark, and he thought his luck in the city must be changing as the women he trailed kept moving further and further away from crowds and lit areas. 'This was going to be too easy,' Corbin said, mentally licking his lips.

He paused for a moment as he got closer than he had been thus far, a mere 20-30 feet separating them, and he noticed the tethered item she had been using in her fire show was draped around her neck. It gave him pause, if only for a moment. He, like many kindred, were no friends of fire and even the sight of the long extinguished implement set off a little alarm in his head. He knew it was probably an irrational fear, but when you were as vulnerable to something as his kind was to fire you learned to be extra careful around it.

Corbin waited in the darkness for the right opportunity. They were moving more and more towards a favorable area but it was still not the optimal moment to strike. If she veered off from her current path he'd be forced to and didn't think he'd have any trouble with anyone seeing, but she was continuing to venture further into the night. Why not follow and make it even easier on himself? Besides, he still had a curiosity about the woman as well; this wasn't simply about feeding.

The wind blew through the trees, brisk and cool. Leaves rustled and the sounds of the crowd continued to fade away into the background. The smell of rich earth and damp stone rose up with the wind and gave Corbin a more comfortable feeling in his surroundings. Even though much of his unlife had been spent in the inner city areas of Kansas City he never passed up a chance to visit some of the local parks, forests, and wooded areas and always felt more at one with himself when spending time there. That same feeling was with him tonight; a proud, confident predator stalking a helpless, but intriguing prey.


If only Corbin could have known how horribly wrong that thought actually was.


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Mac
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Where the fuck was her jump? She waited while she tied her shoe, the absolute dead give away of a great opportunity to jump her back was missed. She didn't understand really, what the fuck? Were they not going to try and take her down, were they just tailing her? Did they want her to lead them back to her haven? Fat chance mother fucker.

The potentially play time was turning sour in her mind, and she was losing interest real fast when the potential target in her mind had shifted from her to maybe Church. Maybe they didnt want The Kraken at all, maybe they were after The Doc? She stood up from her shoe laces, eyes flickering over the corners of her peripherals to gauge where in the darkness the fanger was hanging out now. She slid her phone from her pocket, taking a short puff of the blunt between her lips but only letting the smoke play around inside her mouth. She used one hand on the screen to type as she started walking again, wanting to keep the other free for whatever was lurking in the dark.

"Doc, I got a tale. Spinner park, where u?" She's send a text off to Church, to see where he was. Normally she'd handle shit on her own, but there was to much potential in the darkness, and minds create a bigger monster than was usually there. Usually. She'd met some pretty fucking horrible monsters in her life time though, and if she wasn't going home she wanted Church to have a reasonable guess as to where her fucking carcass would be found.

She kept on walking, now heading into a treeline once the phone was pushed back in her pocket. She'd try and dissappear upwards, an easy thing for such a creepishly silent beast like her to do. Hook a hand into a branch (being so tall this was a rather easy feat) and pull up as soon as she went around a corner. She'd also flick her joint as far ahead of her as she could chuck it, so it's nice aromatic smoulder would blanket a trail for some distance beyond where she stopped. She'd hope to do a reversal of this stupid stalking bullshit, and if he walked underneath her or around the tree, she'd try and frog splash him from the top. If he didn't linger that close? Well, best to get a good fucking look at what she was dealing with. Sure wasn't a Nossie, as she'd seen him moving in the field. Unclear in the night, but distinctly visible.
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"You are so fucking Camarilla. All hope and optimism. Maybe we can mount a rescue mission, and everyone can have a cupcake party, and fly around on Pegasus unicorns pooping rainbows."
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Corbin Grayson
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* * *

Corbin watched the titan of a woman head into the tree line and he followed a little more excitedly. It was as if everything tonight was going perfectly his way... a rarity. He darted from where he was into the shadowy trees a bit away from where she entered for a little more cover and then began working his way back to her position. The lights of the bonfires and people behind him had long since faded away and he called on his blood to aid him. Eyes of the Beast

This was what Corbin truly lived for. When he was first embraced and the months that followed he was raised in a cement jungle and rarely left to run free and follow his inner calling. After he had learned most of what he knew today he started to take whatever excuse he could just to escape to the welcoming comfort of the wild. He couldn't put his finger on what it was about it exactly but it was an overwhelming welcoming feeling as if you had just come home after a long vacation and embraced the comfortable and relaxed feeling you had when you settled in at home.

That was what Corbin had felt now; the primal comfort of a home the blood in him sought out. He wondered if every Gangrel felt the same sort of draws to the wild as he did. He assumed so. Sadly he rarely had any interactions with too many of his own clan and even then they were under rushed circumstances and not the kind of pleasurable meetings where you could sit back and pick each other's brains.

There was so much he still needed to learn. He was frustrated by how his sire had kept him hidden like a savage pit bull in a cage. He had been promised when the time had come and the Prince of Kansas City was overthrown his sire would take his place and that Corbin would be welcomed with open arms into the community and the Camarilla, not just as an equal but as a hero. She had told him many stories like that...

Corbin focused back on the task as he drew closer now. He sniffed the air and easily picked up the pungent aroma wafting through the dark jungle. He followed the source, moving with uncanny stealth through the moist, tangled underbrush. The Beast inside him stirred in him as the exhilaration of the night began to build. This human's blood was going to be delicious; the first proper meal since arriving in London.

Further he pushed into the jungle.

Another few sniffs and the trail shifted. He passed through a break in the bushes and trees and saw one large footprint that he could only assume would belong to the massive woman he was hunting. He was close.

Then he saw it.

The small glowing ember that was the cherry of her blunt burning in the distance. A feral grin grew on Corbin's face and he dashed towards his target careful not to make noise still.

Another sniff. So close.

Corbin darted through the brush again, coming to a stop at the base of large stalwart tree. He pressed his hands against the massive trunk as he peered around the edge. He could see the burning beacon now calling out to him in the dark. She was just feet away... and stopped! Corbin's mouth would have salivated had he been alive. The hunt was at its end and he was about to enjoy the spoils of it.

Another sniff.

A frown slowly crept over Corbin's face. Something wasn't right.

Another sniff.

The scent was strong and close. Too strong to be coming from the object he was fixated on. There was no way he could still have this clear a scent at that distance. She was stationary and there was no wind to speak of. Yet the smell... was strong.

Slowly Corbin lifted his head, his eyes traveling up the tree until he spotted something up in one of the branches. Something he had noticed far too late...



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Mac
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* * * * *
What was the little snake slithering in the darkness? An actual snake? Didn't seem like it, whatever it was seemed tougher around the edges than a serpent usually was. It sure as fuck wasn't Sawyer or that Jane woman, whom she'd learned to recognize incase either of them were hunting her ass in 'Narch territory.

She waited to see if he would come directly into her field of vision, staying as perfectly still in the night as she could manage. She was still human though, her heart beat and she had to draw near silent breath. Auspex however, could potentially sound her out at this close a distance... The red eyes of the man beneath her let her know what she was playing with though, causing her teeth to clench a moment. God, she hated the claws. Not that the damage for her was any worse than knives or billets, she couldn't be dealt the same aggravated damage with them that Fangers were. The problem was with a squishy human body, it was all that bad. Knives, bullets, claws. Lethal.

When he looked up she was dropping down, no time to get the chain off her shoulders really and utilize it. The noise would have tipped him off, she needed the surprise as she'd aim to slam her weight into him, and drive them down to the ground while keeping his fucking fangs an arms length away in a choke. She was also spitting as she fell, that mouthful of liquid she'd puffed up into her cheeks earlier splashing out in a thick mist directly down to her new Gangrel best friend. She was a heavy fucker, without the potence in her body she could knock near any asshole to the floor on a fight, with it? Well, she hoped it would be enough to take down a thick skinned outlander and knock him senseless a moment.

She couldn't just light him on fire unfortunately, there were to many fucking Cammies in this area these days and she needed to know why. Why were they invading, was the Prince up to something? And were they onto her? And would this little fucker be missed... If he needed to go up in smoke? She didn't want anymore reason for Sawyer to have to hunt her down than he already had.

"who the fuck are you?"
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"You are so fucking Camarilla. All hope and optimism. Maybe we can mount a rescue mission, and everyone can have a cupcake party, and fly around on Pegasus unicorns pooping rainbows."
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Corbin Grayson
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* * *

Corbin had all of a second's warning before the woman hurtling down at him spit a liquid into his eyes. He barely got the first part of 'Oh shit!' out of his mouth before she was crashing into him and sending him sprawling.

He toppled backwards, almost doing a complete backwards roll before hitting another tree and crumpling to a heap at the base of it. His hands moved frantically over his face trying to wipe whatever the foul, stinging liquid was out of his eyes. He was disoriented, temporarily blinded, and thoroughly confused as he hurried to get to his feet and clear his vision. It was a complete contrast to the graceful woman who now stood just a few feet from him, having gracefully spring boarded off him before landing on her feet and coming up ready.

"Who the fuck are you?" She said in a icy tone.

Corbin saw she was holding her ground and wiped his face of in the crook of his arm. Then spat a mouthful of the foul liquid out, it having gotten in there when he mouth dropped open in surprise of seeing her diving down on top of him. "You spit in my face... who fucking does that!" He said sounding more annoyed than anything as he spit again. "It went in my mouth... ugh..."

He wasn't overly concerned at the moment; despite the opening attack the woman appeared to be holding her ground... at least long enough to ask her question. He wasn't overly mad either, although that was sure to come. Right now he was just confused; thoroughly and utterly confused.

Wiping the last bit of... whatever the hell it was... from his face, Corbin finally focused on the lithe woman before him. He was quickly beginning to realize any hope he had for an easy meal wasn't going to happen. He looked her over from head to toe trying to decide how he was going to handle this. If this had been back in Kansas City a year ago he'd have his claws out and be flaying whole slices of flesh off her while asking her who she was... but that home was long gone now and he couldn't afford to make enemies. Or at least not before he knew what kind of friends they had.

"My name is Corbin." He spat out finally. "Do you always greet people this way or is this a special welcome reserved for Americans?" He said trying to lighten the mood just a bit. His eyes belayed the words; however, as he had an intense look about him and was ready for any way this situation might go. Looking at her intense gaze he wasn't sure how well that would work, but it couldn't hurt.


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Mac
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* * * * *
She had intended to flatten the Gangrel into a pancake, but instead something shifted and went wrong and instead she hit him at an angle and he bounced. He flew back and hit a tree, and began rubbing his face. Well, that's just fine. It would distribute the substance all over his arms and hands as well, spreading out the potential damage zone immeasurably. Bravo mother fucker.

“It ain't spit, it's fuel.”
Hopefully that would make the mother fucker stop talking, because jesus he was talking an aweful lot for someone she'd just tried to squish like a fly swatter came down on an unsuspecting bug. Hopefully the knowledge he could be lit up like a half a year old christmas tree would cork his flapping yap, so she could get a command or two in edge wise.

“SHUT UP!” If she could catch his god damned red eyes with those dark pools of hazel, she'd order him to stop talking with a forceful sledge hammer of dominate to the brain. Mac wasn't a big socializer, unless she was really baked... and she was currently only semi buzzed, and way to fucking pissed off from being Hunted to even think about being a nice person and joking around with the asshole at her feet. His being American didn't bother her none, so was she. So was everyone these days, immigrants left right and center. Her? The illegal kind.

Illegal in a lot of ways, and hunted in a few too. This Gangrel creature in front of her was a problem on a lot of levels, and she needed to know exactly how to handle the dangerous potential here. Could she set it on fire and run off? She didn't need to be anymore on a radar than she already was, but god damnit if he was trying to bring her in to Blucher she'd make sure that would never happen. One way or another. There were a few others she could think of, being very creative when it came to 'problem' solving of this sort.

She needed to catch his eyes, so she could slide right into his brain and force what she needed out of him without having to worry about lies. Sometimes being a Ventrue was the best thing she could be, that ability to bitch slap someone inside their own skull was sure handy now and then. She didnt want to get to close, monsterous bitches like 'Corbin' here had a tendancy to have terrifyingly damaging claws, so she'd try and keep a nice peaceable distance between them that would prevent either of them from Punisher on the others ass.

“Tell me the /truth/. Are you a Cammie? /Why/ were you tailing me?”
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"You are so fucking Camarilla. All hope and optimism. Maybe we can mount a rescue mission, and everyone can have a cupcake party, and fly around on Pegasus unicorns pooping rainbows."
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Corbin Grayson
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* * *

"It ain't spit, it's fuel."
The woman said in an almost annoyed tone.

'Less gross... more dangerous,' Corbin thought as the hairs on the back of his neck started to rise. This was happening more quickly than he had expected things to. He was being attacked by someone he still didn't know, he was covered in flammable liquid, and she was being highly aggressive. The Beast screamed for control; Corbin could almost feel its claws tearing at him from the inside. It begged to be free; to be set lose and tear the head off this acrobatic amazon.

Corbin was fighting a losing battle as well. He couldn't think of any good reason to resist. She wasn't protecting herself, she wasn't looking to neutralize him, and she was attacking him.

The playful smile disappeared from Corbin's face. His back hunched slightly and his face twisted into one of barely contained fury. He shed his coat in a quick and well-practiced move and called upon his blood. Feral Claws

She had left him little choice in the matter and he knew to hesitate at the merest hint of aggression by her would be his death. He would not die standing around waiting for it. If he was going to die tonight he was taking someone with him.

It was the second time Corbin had been pushed to this level. Most people who have encountered him and lived always saw the light-hearted, manipulative, and cautious Corbin who was always at the ready with a witty retort. Few saw him when that all went away; when he let just a part of the Beast inside him out to play. He was as vicious as any vampire twice his age and would error on the side of pre-emptive attacks to ensure his own existence continued. This woman was walking a delicate line.

There is no more fearsome a beast than one that feels it is cornered and has no way to escape.

"SHUT UP!" She snapped again, continuing to feed into the fire of Corbin's fury.

Corbin snarled as his eyes came up to meet her. Anyone could see he was a different creature altogether now. Gone were the bright-eyed curious eyes, replacing with the narrowed eyes of a beast ready to defend itself viciously.

"I don't know what fucking game you're playing, bitch," he said through clenched teeth. "But I'm not your fucking enemy... yet..."

"Tell me the /truth/. Are you a Cammie? /Why/ were you tailing me?"

The words cut right through Corbin, but he didn't even notice the power behind them. He would have answered the question truthfully even if not persuaded to.

"No, I'm not." He said through gritted teeth. "I was hungry and you happened to catch my attention, that was the only reason I followed you," he said, seeing nothing wrong with talking about his hunting habits openly. It was now obvious this woman was no stranger to his kind. Still he seethed.

The next aggressive move would give Corbin no choice but to attack with all he had. This was what he wanted to avoid. This was why he had been searching the nights endlessly for some connections to the city. Right now he was on his own and had no leverage on anyone. When confronted and cornered there was nowhere to run, no name to drop. It was as simple as kill or be killed.

She was leaving him no other choice.



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Mac
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She was in no way perturbed by the horrific growth of claws that mutated from his hands, when he shifted and burned blood to create them she didn't even look down. She registered the change in the perifery of her vision, but she wouldn't break eye contact and ruin the moment of having the upper hand. Yeah, claws were scary. Yeah, they could peel her flesh apart if he got close enough, but she wasn't really keen on letting him get close enough. Fuck that shit. She liked her organs inside her meaty body, no need to get up close and personal with her intestines again anytime soon. The last memories of Toran digging around inside her to remove brick and debris was enough to give her a healthy dose of "Nope", but then the memory of Church fishing out bullets shortly after that just cemented her desire to stay intact.

Him calling her a bitch was in no way insulting, she'd been called so much worse it might as well have been an adorable pet name like Baby, or Precious, or her personal favorite, sugah. His declaration he wasn't her enemy was more of a joke than anything else, because /everyone/ was her enemy, except a select few that numbered less than the number of fingers on one hand.

When he said he was just hunting her though, her stoney angered expression seemed to flicker rapidly through a myriad of sentiments. The first was disbelief, that he could have possibly been doing something as innocent as hunting her as a food source, instead of being the suspected tail on her ass hired by Cammie sources, or even a dozen others. Giovanni, Sabbat - Marta specifically. Her enemies were many. The second was anger, that he'd have the audacity to do something as insanely insulting as /hunt/ her. The third was a thunderstruck expression of humor, and that was the one that won the rapid fire emotional change.

She laughed, the roughened throaty noise like a bark. She wasn't giggling like a baked kid watching Fail videos, a pass time she enjoyed with Church, but she was laughing a cold and mirthless sound of astonishment.

"Let me get this straight... You were like, oh, look at that giantess right over there that just finished SPINNING FIRE. She looks like a god damned snack?! Were you fucking turned yesterday?" One hand came up to rest on her cheek as she looked at him, shaking her head in a state of semi disbelief.

"So if you ain't a Cammie, are you a fucking shovelhead, or do you belong in these parts?" Meaning, was he an Anarch. If he was, she didn't have to light him on fire. If he was a shovelhead, well... Diner was served. Might be a bit overcooked when she was done with him, but begger's can't be choosers.
Edited by Mac, Wednesday, 10. September 2014, 18:11.
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"You are so fucking Camarilla. All hope and optimism. Maybe we can mount a rescue mission, and everyone can have a cupcake party, and fly around on Pegasus unicorns pooping rainbows."
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Corbin Grayson
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Contradicting the mood the tattooed woman let out a deep grating laugh. "Let me get this straight... You were like, oh, look at that giantess right over there that just finished SPINNING FIRE. She looks like a god damned snack?! Were you fucking turned yesterday?"

When she put it light that Corbin admitted it wasn't his proudest moment of judgment. Still, he hated the way she seemed to carry herself as above him. She seemed confident in her abilities, or maybe it was simply the fact she had him in the unfortunate position of him being covered in fuel. Whatever the case he could see she was breathing, a fact he toyed with the idea of changing. He admired her on some level. She was obviously aware of what he was yet still played at being an equal. He wondered what he was missing.

He continued to stand at the ready, his claw-tipped hands vigilant as he watched for an opening. He hadn't decided if he'd take one yet if it presented itself, but he would be on the look out for one regardless. Nodding to the glowing ember in the distance he replied, "Some of us have tastes we've grown to crave... and it just so happened you fit the need."

"So if you ain't a Cammie, are you a fucking shovelhead, or do you belong in these parts?" He was a bit confused by how this woman seemed to be on a rollercoaster of emotions. Just a moment ago he was sure she'd set him on fire and they'd fight until one, or both, were dead. Now she seemed more laid back, less on guard. Suddenly the dots started connecting in his head.... her first question, her readiness to engage in battle, and then suddenly backing off just a bit when she found out he wasn't in league with the Camarilla. Obviously there was bad blood there, something he could play to.

"The Camarilla are responsible for the death of my Sire," he spat, and it was the truth... from a certain point of view. "And I'm engaging you in a conversation... so you can safely rule out a shovelhead." He said with a grin despite himself. He knew Sabbatt foot soldiers had a stereotype and he was just leaning on the to emphasize he was no pawn of them. "And as for do I belong here... that remains to be seen." He didn't feel like going into detail about how he was having no luck finding any kind of Anarch leadership or even presence in the city to try to align with. That was loosely his plan since arriving in the city and one that hadn't provided much luck.

The two stood there staring at each other and finally Corbin broke the building silence.

"So, what now? Do we just stand here staring at each other until the sun comes up?" He wasn't sure what kind of game this woman was playing, he wasn't even sure if she was fully sane, but he liked the way the conversation seemed to be going and that the tensions seemed to be steering away from a straight up conflict.



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Mac
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Dodging answers, no firm yes or no. Cammies might have killed his sure, but that didn't meant he wasn't one of them. People had fucked up loyalty to their sect sometimes. Also, shovel heads could hold conversation. That's all the could do, they sucked at fighting and their hunting was shit. All they ever did was yammer on stupidly... Then Corbin said the worst, most annoying thing any vampire put in a corner could say. -
That remains to be seen. What sort of horror movie cryptic answer was that? Fuck that shit, if he couldn't give a straight answer he didn't need to exist in her city.

She slid one hand into the hole in the jeans she wore, the one in her left ass cheek that left an ample ammount of rock hard ass curve bare to view. Not from his direction Infront of her, but anyone behind her. He'd have already had an eyefull when he was 'sneaking' up on her. A zippo lighter was pulled off the leather harness she wore beneath the loose jeans, and she held it in we hand with one brow raised up.

"Straight answer, or you're going to meet whatever diety you believe in. If you ain't Cammie, and you ain't Sabbie... You should be an Anarch, but if you ain't then I'm wondering what the fuck you're doing hunting in Anarch land?"

She towered, unnaturally tall for a woman and with muscled shoulders that screamed for a professional contract with a football team, she wouldn't make a move towards him unless he forced her. They didn't need to burn out, but he had tried to eat her and if he was causing trouble? Well, she'd act like an Anarch warden and take care of the issue.
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"You are so fucking Camarilla. All hope and optimism. Maybe we can mount a rescue mission, and everyone can have a cupcake party, and fly around on Pegasus unicorns pooping rainbows."
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