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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. Create Your Account! If you're already a member, please log in to your account to access all of our features: |
| Operation: Rodeo [Finished]; Attn: Lessa, Oliver, Jeremy; Lynx, Yuki, Jason, Piscina. | |
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| Topic Started: Tuesday, 26. August 2014, 22:42 (3,508 Views) | |
| Lisbeth | Tuesday, 26. August 2014, 22:42 Post #1 |
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Darth Ventrue
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The plan below is carefully orchestrated to seem like unusual, but random events. Just a crappy day for the first-responders of North London. T-minus 45: a gas leak a short distance away from the Hospitality Club created blocked off streets and a fair amount of chaos. T-minus 25: For unknown reasons, a bank manager set off their alarm; drawing further attention many blocks away from the Hospitality Club. On another street, a brick is thrown through a jeweler's window. T-minus 15: some kids ran down yet another street shooting things up with paintball guns. Including several CCTV cameras. Little scamps. T-minus 1: Two beat up delivery vans pull up just around the corner from the Hospitality club. One van appears to be having mechanical trouble, with its hood open. Their 'friends' from the other van appear to be helping. Inside these vans are the kindred involved in Operation Rodeo and their security team. Including the Primogen of Clan Ventrue. In Anarch territory. Oliver, and Lessa should she agree to it; had been wired for sound. Lisbeth could speak to Oliver through an active earpiece. It was time to enter the 'Anarch Elysia' and find if anything could be learned about the missing Malia from her deadly enemy. "Remember your assignments." Lisbeth said. Her gaze lingered on Oliver. His primary responsibility? Ensure Lessa gets out of the building alive. Up to and including use of disciplines and sacrificing his own life. He was only to speak if Lessa gave him leave to do so, or if ordered by his Domina. She smiled coldly. "Hopefully none of our preparations will be needed." Lisbeth hoped that someone at this club may provide useful information. So far as could be determined, Jason was in the club as was the other elder, Piscinia Sherwood. Lisbeth had met both of them and they had seemed reasonable. She was less concerned over Lessa's safety then she was about leaving empty handed. That said, they were prepared for the worst case scenario. That the Anarchs try to capture or kill Lessa; or that Malia is actually being held hostage in the building. In other words... that the Anarch's were starting a war. T+1: Lisbeth looked at Jeremy "Primogen Starling? On your word, sir." Edited by Lisbeth, Wednesday, 27. August 2014, 00:07.
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| Lynx | Wednesday, 27. August 2014, 00:41 Post #2 |
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Lord Torchwood
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Lynx was inside, polishing the tabletop with a cloth. Dressed in his normal black button down, sleeves folded back to his elbows to expose his tan forearms. The stocky 5'7 Irishman had an apron tied about his waist that blended in with his black slacks and his blond hair was artfully mussed. His green eyes were carefully watching the empty bar through half closed lids. A thumb thick scar traveled down the left side of his face from above his temple to under his jaw, a few branches disrupting the few days of light gold stubble on his face. He had music playing softly, a classical station that at the moment was pumping out Beethoven's 9th Symphony and the white rag in his hand was pristine as he wiped it across the bar counter. There was no sign of anyone else in the establishment. For all intents and purposes it seemed like the Irishman was alone and tending to his duties. On the other hand, it was never exactly busy in the Hospitality Club. |
color code 00CC00 #BC8F8F: Japanese ![]() “if you consider a woman less pure after you've touched her maybe you should take a look at your hands” Permanent Fangs - Flaw Sharpened teeth from fangs back - Frenzy Mark | |
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| Lessa | Wednesday, 27. August 2014, 03:10 Post #3 |
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Avenging Angel
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Lessa seemed to have wandered into a movie, again. From Planet of the Apes, to The Island of Doctor Moreau. And now... She didn't have enough experience with spy thrillers, or action flicks, to be able to guess what movie she was in. The only thing she could think of was James Bond. She was trying very hard not to roll her eyes at all the preparations that were made for this. Then again, they were taking a huge risk. And in some ways, she and Oliver might end up being the safest people in their little group. She was still holding out hope that Mister Dahlgren would prove to be a somewhat reasonable sort. Meanwhile, the Ventrue Primogen was going to be sitting in a van in Anarch territory. Next to the Prince himself, Jeremy was likely the one with the biggest target on his back. She couldn't hep but feel a somewhat begrudging respect for the man for being here. She had dressed way down for the occasion, and was pleased to see that Oliver did too. In her case, it was a pair of loose-fitting jeans that were a bit worn and bore no labels. Her sneakers were simple running shoes. And she wore a very simple olive green t-shirt, her one tiny concession to vanity, wearing a color that would bring out her eyes. Her hair had been pulled back into a ponytail. Her ring, she took off, and attached to her necklace chain. It wasn't going to be Lady Alessandra Carter that walked into that pub. She was going in as Lessa, just looking for a friend, and having heard that Mister Dahlgren might be able to shed some light on where the girl might have gone off to. She was wearing a wire, of course. If she and Oliver got separated, Lisbeth still needed to be able to keep tabs on her. She just hoped that all of their preparations might prove unnecessary. You'll be fine, love. Lisbeth isn't going to let anything happen to you. And something tells me that Oliver would die to protect you. "That's what I'm afraid of." she whispered. That was where her opinion and Oliver's - and likely Lisbeth's - differed. She wasn't going to let him die for her. Her priorities were to find Malia - and to make sure that Oliver got out of there alive. For all that he was going as something of a bodyguard, she was the kindred, she was supposed to be the stronger one, and she would protect him. Whether he wanted her to, or not. She smiled at him as they waited for Jeremy to give Lisbeth word that he was ready. |
English Italian a0fc8d French f67dfa German 3090c7 Latin Greek 4cc417 Discipline use Lee's voice 52f3ff![]() | |
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| Piscina | Wednesday, 27. August 2014, 04:22 Post #4 |
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Ancilla
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T-minus 30: A small sparrow ratta-tap-tapped on a second floor conference room window with its beak. It is let in, and reports people massing strangely to the north. Shouting and noise and violence movements. It does not know the words gas leak and so cannot give reasons to its mistress. The Ravnos inside notes this with little interest, London is occasionally a violent place and it is not actually on this street, and gives it a bit of bread. No other preparations are noticed. However, the trip to the window made her realize she was feeling mildly claustrophobic, spending all this time inside one room, no matter that it often looked like forests or the infinity of space, so she wrapped up the illusion she was playing with, and walked downstairs to say hello to Mister O'Rourke and ring something pleasant and bloody up on her tab. |
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"I am Piscina Sherwood, and this is what it looks like when I speak." I am the Beast of Piscina Sherwood, and this is what it looks like when I speak. | |
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| Lynx | Wednesday, 27. August 2014, 13:35 Post #5 |
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Lord Torchwood
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"Greeting's Ms Sherwood. Can I get ye anything?" The Irishman waited for her request and went back to the cleverly disguised refrigerators and withdrew the blood bag with her order. He hung the bag over the small boiler that looked like a barrel of bubbling water and set the timer, letting it sit until it dinged to show the blood was warmed to body temperature. Then he snipped the top of the blood bag and poured it out into the black ceramic tankard for her and set it down on the bar for her. It was always a pleasure to serve the Dreamweaver. She was lovely to look at, though he never forgot that she was an aged creature on the inside, and had been walking the earth as a predator for centuries. So he was always careful to be polite and respectful to her. He had no desire to find himself drained dry or cursed with some of that strange magic she had. So polite and respectful seemed to be the answer of the day. |
color code 00CC00 #BC8F8F: Japanese ![]() “if you consider a woman less pure after you've touched her maybe you should take a look at your hands” Permanent Fangs - Flaw Sharpened teeth from fangs back - Frenzy Mark | |
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| Piscina | Wednesday, 27. August 2014, 17:06 Post #6 |
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Ancilla
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Piscina watched the preparation bemusedly. The little plastic bags were funny. They reminded her of candy bars. In this strange new world of wealth and plenty, everything you could ever need came in a wrapper. She had never dreamed of such a situation, which was saying something because she dreamed of quite a few strange things. Sometimes she found the fast changing world frightening and strange, but she did her best to be more curious than fearful and more amused than wary. It was the only attitude she'd seen in older Kindred that let them adapt to the passing years. She nodded thanks to the warmed blood and then asked for a straw, because she prefered the sensation of sucking that the tool provided, and disliked the blood moustaches that inevitably followed just drinking from the cup. Once she'd gotten it, she looked disconcertingly teenage as she sipped what might have been a very, very red strawberry milkshake. "Mister O'Rouke," she said, conversationally between sips. "Do you think Mister Dahlgren might ever consent to let me cater for you? It would add flexibility to your menu. The memory of taste that is nourishing is a very popular sensation for Kindred. And for mortals, I've has it billed as diet food to great effect." "Though I suppose I've never seen a fat ghoul," she added speculatively, spinning the straw between her fingers. "That may be less popular here than it was in California." |
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"I am Piscina Sherwood, and this is what it looks like when I speak." I am the Beast of Piscina Sherwood, and this is what it looks like when I speak. | |
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| Lynx | Wednesday, 27. August 2014, 17:25 Post #7 |
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Lord Torchwood
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The green eyed ghoul blinked slowly and considered it. He reached up and brushed his hand through his tangle of blond hair, idling running two fingers down the length of his scar, a new habit he'd gotten into. Something about the scar tissue was just calming when he was thinking about it. "Ah, I think he might. Ye'd have te set the price as ye think is fair after yer own judgement. Not sure any o'us could put a fair price on the energy it takes te do them. Do ye think ye'd want te take time away from yer business jest te cater food? It's not like we get many folk in here as it is." Though it was an interesting idea. Eating imaginary food. It was sort of fascinating. He could see a lot of wonder to be had in powers like the ones like Ms Sherwood had shown. The ability to make such marvelous illusions and phantasms. Truly it was a marvelous power. He took up his white cloth and returned to polishing the already gleaming bar. The simple motion of going round and round with the cloth while continually walking from one end of the bar to the other had done wonders for his legs. It was like a continual low impact exercise. He might even have lost a few pounds. Though that could be just the result of the blood loss he'd been experiencing the last few months as well. |
color code 00CC00 #BC8F8F: Japanese ![]() “if you consider a woman less pure after you've touched her maybe you should take a look at your hands” Permanent Fangs - Flaw Sharpened teeth from fangs back - Frenzy Mark | |
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| Lisbeth | Wednesday, 27. August 2014, 21:19 Post #8 |
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Darth Ventrue
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Jeremy signaled to Lisbeth that it was time to go. The tall Ventrue did a last sound and mic check. Lisbeth said "Rodriguez, Martin... go." Two of the 'delivery men' pick up an empty gas can, a toolbox and start to complain about how Jake always forgets to fill the tank and that is probably all that is wrong with the stupid van. They start slowly walking towards the street that happens to have the Hospitality Club. They look like two blue collar guys on the clock, no particular hurry. They will likely stop for a smoke on the way... (as one should with an empty gas can). They also happen to be the first line of defense if Lessa and Oliver have to bail. Lisbeth looked back towards Oliver and Lessa. "Okay, on your way Signora. Good luck." Lisbeth showed a razor smile on her lips. "Lets not start a war today." Lisbeth would really like to have a sniper. But she hadn't trained one yet... and she had to stay here to run the Op. Edited by Lisbeth, Wednesday, 27. August 2014, 21:22.
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| Oliver | Wednesday, 27. August 2014, 21:25 Post #9 |
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Dork
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Having showed proper respect to Primogen Starling, when he'd been brought into his presence, the ghoul's attention had then fallen on Doctor Carter, and he'd inclined his head, his solemn expression suggesting that he was in business mode. He was dressed casually, as Lady Alessandra had deemed preferable, any wire his Stăpână had set him up with well hidden under his shirt. The ear piece was visible, but merely looked like a regular Bluetooth phone device. "Remember your assignments." "Yes, Stăpână," Oliver replied, looking into his Domina's icy blue eyes and nodding once, the gravity in his own signifying that he understood fully what was expected of him, and was ready and willing to deliver. The ghoul had never been a part of such an operation before, and he did feel some anxiety; but all of that was tempered by the knowledge that his Stăpână had been risking her own life, and then unlife, since he'd first seen her, in service to the Family and Clan. And so he could think of no better way to demonstrate his devotion, to her, than to do the same. As for the mission itself, he felt that Doctor Carter's gentle soul would most likely appeal, on some level, to the Anarchs' sensibilities - if one could term them as such. In fact, her flawed mentality regarding ghouls might even serve them well in this case, he begrudgingly conceded. But there were many factors which could come into play to compromise this mission. For one, no less that two Elders were believed to be at the Club; and Kindred did not exist that long without gaining wisdom, which usually translated itself in an healthy dose of suspicion; thus it could safely be presuppose that every word, every gestured - and perhaps more, such as the reading of auras and so forth - would be carefully studied and analysed, and that possible conclusions would be drawn from their presence. And should said conclusions differ from Doctor Carter's allegations, all bets would be off and anything could happen. The ghoul hated to lie. His personal opinion was that, in such a situation, sincerity would have been better. Gangrels could, no doubt, sense anxiety and fear in other creatures, and perhaps know if one was lying. And the other... he didn't even want to try and imagine what she could do, the information on that one was much too limited - and what they did know, much too concerning for his peace of mind. Being territorial himself, he would not rest a moment should Kindred and ghouls, not merely from another Clan, but another Sect - looking for an enemy of his -, were to enter his Domain... his Mistress' Domain... that he was a part of - which had the sudden and sobering effect of putting everything back into context, and reminded him that it was not Theo's place to think. The ghoul was there as a tool, to function as the operative that he was. Free will was only authorized, and would only kick in, if things turned ugly - and even then, that would probably only last a moment. And so Oliver allowed himself the illusion that he was willingly placing himself in his Domina's expert hands (which he'd have done anyways, were he free to chose), and merely concentrated on her orders, remaining attentive to Doctor Carter as well, as he had been told to follow her instructions... to a certain limit. Once the Primogen had given the signal, Oliver merely got ready to follow Doctor Carter. Being behind Lady Alessandra, he watched until Primogen Starling looked away, and winked back at the razor smile, sure that no one else than his Domina could see him. He even offered a slight smirk of his own. If this was the last time she saw him, he wanted her to see Oliver, old or new. |
English German Czech Romanian Oliver![]() Otis link - Bright Eyes | |
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| Piscina | Wednesday, 27. August 2014, 22:38 Post #10 |
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Ancilla
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"In terms of pricing, I generally offer discounted samples of one food, priced to about where they would be in mortal society, change the food now and again so that people come back to see what is new. I would make the real money on the custom orders that tend to follow," she twirled the straw. "And certainly. I'm only seeing a client every few days and have no ongoing projects, so that leaves plenty of free time." And those clients were almost entirely from out of town. Hospitality was introducing her to the Kindred of London, but not terribly quickly. Fortunately for her she already had an established network of clients in England, and Hospitality was terribly useful as a discrete location for her out of towners to visit, safe from their gossiping peers, secured against the Masquerade and with no need for permission from the Prince or non-existent Baron. Given Piscina's returns from her high end clients, a few sessions a month haply paid for the rent and her expenses. "I'd like to have something to do in my idle hours, particularly if it might attract more people. But it would require a small exception to Dahlgren's no disciplines rule." |
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"I am Piscina Sherwood, and this is what it looks like when I speak." I am the Beast of Piscina Sherwood, and this is what it looks like when I speak. | |
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| Lynx | Wednesday, 27. August 2014, 22:48 Post #11 |
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Lord Torchwood
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"Ye've shown yerself te be a more than trustworthy woman Ms Sherwood, and as it would just increase the business fer the Club I have no doubts that Jason would be willing te negotiate with ye te allow ye te go about yer business... and truth be told the Discipline rule is mostly te discourage folk who might be inclined te throw their powers about. Ruffians and bullies and such. I'm sure Master Dahglren knows ye as a reliable sort by now." Lynx continued wiping down the counter. He didn't want to explain to Ms Sherwood that the Club was his responsibility and that he made most of the decisions regarding it. He was fairly certain that would cause some issues for the more traditional sort. Wouldn't do for a ghoul to run a business for Kindred after all. Jason provided him security and ensured that vampires respected his presence here in the Club, and otherwise left the affairs up to Lynx. It worked well for both of them. Though truthfully the Club barely broke even every month. They'd be operating at a loss if it wasn't for Ms Sherwood's rent and presence in the building. One would think that the vampires of London would have more appreciation for a London/Irish Pub atmosphere, but it just didn't seem to be the case. But it was what it was.... And so far what it was seemed to be another damned quiet night for Lynx O'Rourke, so it was nice to have a pretty woman to talk to. Even one he had to watch like a well behaved cobra to ensure he didn't make a mistake and receive a fatal bite. |
color code 00CC00 #BC8F8F: Japanese ![]() “if you consider a woman less pure after you've touched her maybe you should take a look at your hands” Permanent Fangs - Flaw Sharpened teeth from fangs back - Frenzy Mark | |
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| Reggie | Wednesday, 27. August 2014, 22:53 Post #12 |
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Little Sparrow
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Susan made her way down quietly from her lady's rooms. Her head was lowered demurely, though there was a small smile playing there. She glanced at Lynx as she reached the bottom of the stair. "My Lady" Susan said reverently to Piscina. Her presence in the bar proper meant that she had completed her assigned tasks. So far. "If there is nothing else might I stay awhile before returning to the house, Ma'am?" She glanced at Lynx again and some color appeared on her fresh-face. It had been a busy few weeks and Susan hadn't had an opportunity to do more then a quick hello in passing to the charming Irishman. Susan felt a bit awkward at the thought of sitting beside her lady and enjoying a lager... but she had been somewhat clingy lately. Since the woods. Having Sherwood close at hand was comforting. |
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| Lessa | Thursday, 28. August 2014, 05:02 Post #13 |
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Avenging Angel
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Lessa took a dep, unneeded breath adn swallowed hard. She looked over at Oliver and bit her lip, doing her best to look nervous, and maybe even a little scared. She forced a slight tremor into her voice. "You're going to stay close, right?" She wasn't a great actress. But she had been playing the part of a damsel in distress needing a big, strong man to help her for twenty-eight years. It was how she had survived, how she hunted most of the time. It was one role she had down pat. The truth was that she wanted him in arm's reach. Close enough that she could grab his chin and MAKE him look her in the eye if she needed to. And somewhere inside her, the part of her that was still... her... stood on a beach and stared across a line drawn in the sand at a bloodthirsty monster. And the wind started to howl. Please Gods, don't let Dahlgren be the gust of wind that erases that line in the sand. Don't let me be put in a position of being forced to take away what little free will he has. Not him. Not Oliver. But Oliver WAS getting out of there alive, if she had to Dominate him into doing it. If it came down to choosing which sin to commit, she would do what it took to keep him alive. And then she seemed to force herself to put on her "game face". She exited the van and walked to the club. She opened the door herself, and held it open so that Oliver could follow her closely. And then she really was nervous. There really was a lot that could go wrong, here. But it was okay. Nothing really wrong with looking a bit nervous. After all, she was going to be in the presence of two Elders - she SHOULD be nervous. She walked as calmly as she could up to the bar, doing her best to keep her head a bit lowered, her posture not quite perfect. She was not supposed to be a Ventrue lady striding in here demanding things. She was just a slightly frightened girl looking for her lost friend. "Good evening. I was wondering if I might speak to the owner?" Let the game begin. |
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| Oliver | Thursday, 28. August 2014, 05:32 Post #14 |
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Dork
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"You're going to stay close, right?" Oliver looked at a loss for a moment, and nodded with a reassuring smile. "Of course, Lessa," he said, calling her as she'd asked of him and bringing a gentle hand to her arm. And when she turned around, he looked at his Domina with a confused frown, as if saying - what the hell?! Doctor Carter certainly looked the part, but that was the Ventrue that had threatened of beating him to a pulp if he took the wrap for what she'd done at the party, taking all responsibility for it. That was the Ventrue whose strength he'd seen when others than herself had been threatened. Why he'd convinced her she truly was Ventrue, that she had what it took, albeit a bit deep down there... and so this... this was wrong. And Oliver was not stupid, nor had he been born yesterday. He made a living of manipulating others, both humans and Kindred; still, whatever was happening, he was determined that she would remain safe. And he was certainly glad that she wanted to remain close to him, as it would be much easier to look into her eyes and dominate her when... if the time should come. It had been his idea, and he'd received permission from his Domina to do so, his Mistress even informing him that he must sacrifice himself if came to it, to insure the Lady Alessandra's safety. He had only one word, and that word had been carefully thought out. He was determined that, no matter what, she'd get out of there safely. Whether she was trying to play him or not made no difference to him. He would do what needed done to insure this. Not only did he wish to honour his Stăpână, but he wouldn't let Lady Alessandra down either. He may be a ghoul, but he was a Ventrue ghoul. When he realized that she was putting on her 'game face', he stepped out first, and offered his hand to assist her. The night was a bit cool, as it had rained all day, but it helped clear his mind. Oliver kept a hand in her back as they walked along the long row of dark brown stone townhouses, under the trees, until they had found the right one - as they were all identical. Hiding in plain view. Smart, he reflected as the ghoul opened the small iron gate, held it open for Lady Alessandra, and went up the stairs after her. His expression was serious, calm as usual. "Good evening. I was wondering if I might speak to the owner?" Edited by Oliver, Thursday, 28. August 2014, 05:41.
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English German Czech Romanian Oliver![]() Otis link - Bright Eyes | |
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| Piscina | Thursday, 28. August 2014, 21:23 Post #15 |
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Ancilla
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Pisces laughed at O'Rouke's assertion that she was trustworthy and reliable. It was true, well, as far as trust was necessary in a circumstance where cooperation was to her and his master's mutual benefit, but it was also delightful. That was her. The most trustworthy Ravnos in London. She bemusedly reached into one of the pocket in her skirt and tucked a fifty into his tip jar, half for the compliment and half for the amusing oddness of it. "Thank you dear. Please let Mister Dahlgren know I'm at his disposal for such negotiations." She did not guess, even a little, that the buck stopped with Lynx in regards to this decision, and unless the fact was paraded in front of her, she probably never would. She turned on her seat as Susan addressed her. "You may, my Susan. Just be-" Whatever caveat was about to be leveled at Susan's license to hang out and drink was cut off as the door opened and Pisces turned again to witness the somewhat novel event of two new faces entering Hospitality. The woman was pretty in that symmetrical and flawless sort of a way that the lady-dead often fell into. She did not look terribly dead though. That meant she was fresh, ghoul, particularly human, or lost. Piscina's eyes flicked briefly to the glittering blue ring dangling from a chain around her neck. Counter to form, neither Pisces nor any of her family had ever been much for stealing, but if she had, that pretty little thing would have been a target. As it stood, it was a sign of wealth that intrigued her on this otherwise cheaply dressed woman. The man was similarly conventionally beautiful. She wondered if they were Toreador. She often got on with Toreador. She didn't think she'd met any in London yet. He was calm. She was definitely nervous. Pisces could practically smell it on her. She walked up to the bar an arms length from where the Ravnos perched. "Good evening. I was wondering if I might speak to the owner?" Jason then. Interesting. She looked curiously at Lynx. She didn't know if the old Gangrel was even in. |
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"I am Piscina Sherwood, and this is what it looks like when I speak." I am the Beast of Piscina Sherwood, and this is what it looks like when I speak. | |
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| Lynx | Thursday, 28. August 2014, 22:53 Post #16 |
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Lord Torchwood
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The Irishman chuckled and nodded his appreciation for the tip. Then the others came in and he stopped his polishing. He nodded and flashed Reggie a friendly smile and then turned his attention on Lessa & Oliver. He learned his elbows on the counter and took a deep breath, holding it as he considered what to do. Jason wasn't really in the kind of mood lately where he wanted to be disturbed, and they hadn't made an appointment to see him. Which put Lynx in an odd and complicated position. Ruffle the feathers of these newcomers, or bother his domitor? "I am afraid Mr Dahlgren is indisposed at the moment. If ye be leaving me yer name, sect, contact infermation and the reason fer wishing te speak with him I can make ye an appointment fer when he might be next available." The simple pitter patter of bureaucracy. After all an Elder's time was a precious thing and people couldn't just expect him to appear and be available before them when they showed up for a random meeting, without a simple thing as a phone ahead. Just wouldn't do. In Lynx's mind Jason was quite simply, far to important to be bothered by someone who didn't genuinely need him. If it turned out they were Camarilla he'd have even less time to talk to them. Sometimes it seemed like more Cam came through here than Anarchs and Jason wasn't particularly fond of the Tower and their hierarchical ways. So he'd sound them out and see how things went before he disturbed his master. "That last part about what ye be needing him fer is the most important, te be clear. He hates te be disturbed fer trivial matters. Consider me a social secretary and screening service, if it helps." |
color code 00CC00 #BC8F8F: Japanese ![]() “if you consider a woman less pure after you've touched her maybe you should take a look at your hands” Permanent Fangs - Flaw Sharpened teeth from fangs back - Frenzy Mark | |
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| Lessa | Friday, 29. August 2014, 03:24 Post #17 |
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Avenging Angel
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Lessa was a bit flustered. First there was the fact that Oliver didn't even go for one of his compromises and was actually calling her "Lessa" which sounded so odd coming from him. Then his hand on her back had been such a surprise that she tensed up for a second. It was a rather possessive gesture. But then she realized that it was supposed to be - he was pretending to be HER ghoul. Ghouls tended to be possessive, and they were walking into an unknown pub with unknown vampires. And then, about thirty seconds into the mission, she realized she had made a mistake. How in the world did she forget to put her necklace under her shirt after slipping her ring onto it? She should have left it home with Beverly. It was pure selfishness that had caused her to bring it. If she was going to die tonight, she wanted Lee with her. But that ring should have gone to Bev if that had happened, anyway. And now, the whole point of her not wearing it on her hand was ruined, since it had been seen, anyway. Lovely. her first instinct was to get back to the plan and put it under her shirt, now. But to do so after it had been seen would come off as an insult, or an accusation. And the last thing she wanted or needed was for anybody here to think she was afraid of being robbed. And then what she knew would happen, did happen. The bartender was trying to get her to make an appointment. Right, like that would happen. Especially with them wanting her sect as part of her information. So, now it was time to try to run this particular gauntlet to attempt to get her urgency across. "I do understand that Mister Dahlgren's time is extremely valuable. Believe me, if my issue didn't come with time constraints of its own I would have called ahead and made an appointment. But I am in urgent need of information he may have. And time may be the one thing I don't have." A vampire saying that time is the one thing she doesn't have should certainly get some attention, at least. The question was whether that attention would be good, bad, or indifferent. Edited by Lessa, Friday, 29. August 2014, 04:12.
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English Italian a0fc8d French f67dfa German 3090c7 Latin Greek 4cc417 Discipline use Lee's voice 52f3ff![]() | |
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| Oliver | Friday, 29. August 2014, 03:41 Post #18 |
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Dork
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Oliver followed closely, moving again to Lessa's side once they were inside. He'd scanned the place quickly and discretely as they'd entered; now that they were reaching the bar, he concentrated on those who occupied it... The first who caught his eye was the male behind the bar. Attractive, working, possibly ghoul - then again, that scar on his face could mean that he was the Elder Gangrel. His eyes next moved on the young looking female who was observing quietly with her dark eyes - much as he did. She was strikingly beautiful in a charismatic, Romanesque fashion, so small, her attire strangely reminiscent of the Old World; and sitting there, she had a mug on the counter, merely drinking or feeding? He wouldn't be impolite enough to peer, but noted the straw. The other female, the pale haired one, was beautiful as well, in a very tame sort of way, so possibly a ghoul. Though, with the Anarch, he knew that any premature theory could be misleading. And so, though his natural reaction would have been to bow his head with deep reverence, he managed to repress his instincts and merely offered a calm and sincere smile, and gave a slight, measured nod to the lady with the dark hair; after which, his calm smile moved to the other young lady, and onto what he was now relatively certain was a ghoul, as that one had begun to address them... "I am afraid Mr Dahlgren is indisposed at the moment. If ye be leaving me yer name, sect, contact infermation and the reason fer wishing te speak with him I can make ye an appointment fer when he might be next available." That sounded reasonable to Oliver. And what, in his opinion, should have been done in the first place. Particularly when dealing with Elders. The ghoul had been taught revere his elders, and this with respects to Kindred above all - Sir Arnold came to mind. But of course, time was of the essence; for if Miss Malia was still around, and on these premises, they could not leave so easily. But this had to be dealt with delicately. Slowly, he took in a deep, measured breath to retain his composure, hoping that had been done discretely and that his slight concern didn't show. For the fact was that he was uncomfortable about not representing themselves for who they truly were. And though he had confidence in his own diplomatic abilities, Lady Alessandra was in charge, and his lack of control brought, with it, its small share of anxiety. "That last part about what ye be needing him fer is the most important, te be clear. He hates te be disturbed fer trivial matters. Consider me a social secretary and screening service, if it helps." Ghoul. Pale green eyes looked into those of the ghouls, and Oliver gave another slight nod, in acknowledgment. He hesitated to look back at the dark haired Lady, whom he now suspected of being Kindred. The pale haired one looked so meek, as she stood there, that he doubted she was anything but another ghoul - this, despite the paleness of her skin. "I do understand that Mister Dahlgren's time is extremely valuable. Believe me, if my issue didn't come with time constraints of its own I would have called ahead and made an appointment. But I am in urgent need of information he may have. And time may be the one thing I don't have." Oliver remained silent, waiting for things to unfold. So far, so good. He may have added a few things, but he was content with what Lady Alessandra had said. She was, after all, playing the common girl... Kindred. Edited by Oliver, Friday, 29. August 2014, 04:17.
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| Piscina | Saturday, 30. August 2014, 01:43 Post #19 |
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Ancilla
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Piscina watched the exchange with calm, curious eyes. As they spoke, she glanced back at her own ghoul. She made a slight come hither motion to Susan and tapped the stool beside her. In strange company, she prefered to have that which was hers close at hand and easily guarded. And the man was, well, he was observing everything. He was standing just behind her and not speaking. He was, in short, acting as a guard might. And Piscina would not begrudge the girl a guard, if that was what he was, but to have a guard implied that you may soon need to be guarded against something violent, and expectations had a way of worming their way into reality. That and the mysterious and urgent errand made her perhaps a touch wary. The girl spoke again, and did not answer the questions Lynx had put to her. Perhaps it was because he was a ghoul, or because she hoped the weight of her need would bypass the need for further confession. Well, that was unlikely to work, and it was in the girl's best interest to coalesce her vague appeal into details, so Piscina spoke to lend her intent to Lynx's. "Childe--tell Mister O'Rouke what he has asked of you. He speaks with his master's voice in this place, and knows his master's mind, and in that he will serve you well. You would not want to be already in a room with Dahlgren only to discover he deems your issue less urgent than you hope." Piscina realized belatedly that she'd used a rather familiar and somewhat presumptuous term to address the girl. Childe. She hadn't quite intended to do that. It wasn't inappropriate, but it wasn't quite politic. It's just the girl seemed so young, it had slipped out. Well, she was someone's childe anyway and there was nothing to do about it now. Words were like birds--once loosed into the air they could not be called back. Well, words were like birds assuming you did not have the mystical power to commune with and summon creatures of the wild. Damn Animalism, screwing up her perfectly good metaphors. |
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"I am Piscina Sherwood, and this is what it looks like when I speak." I am the Beast of Piscina Sherwood, and this is what it looks like when I speak. | |
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| Lessa | Saturday, 30. August 2014, 03:03 Post #20 |
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Avenging Angel
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Lessa froze and went pale. Only one class of kindred would presume to call an unknown kindred "childe" - one that could be almost positive of being older than her. In other words, an Elder. This was the enigmatic Piscina Sherwood. Thank the Gods for a socialite's instincts. She was bobbing a slight curtsy before her brain had even finished the thought process. "My apologies." She turned to face Mister O'Rourke. "To both of you. I meant no disrespect. I... I'm Lessa Carter... Camarilla. I am here because a friend of mine has gone missing. Another friend has told me that... that she had had dealings with Mister Dahlgren in the past, and so he may have some idea of where she has gone off to. I need to find her before her tendency to speak, or even act, before she thinks manages to get her killed." She had a sinking feeling that she was digging a hole there would be no climbing out of. All she could really hope for was that her ineptness didn't end up starting a war. |
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7:57 PM Jul 11