Vampire The Masquerade RPG
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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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Beggar's banquet
Topic Started: Thursday, 11. September 2014, 12:13 (541 Views)
Jelena
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Anarch Mama Bear
* * * *
New night, new meeting at the Tripper. Seemed to become some sort of habit. Couldn't yet decide if that was a good thing or not. Also wasn't the point. She'd chosen the Tripper for a reason after all. A symbol. A beacon that the Anarch could use to gather around and get their fucking shit together. They'd done so in the past, they'd do so again as long as the Brujah was concerned. She'd started to work to that end and had slowly made the ruin more accessible. Played with the fence a bit and such, so that guests could get in easier. Also thought it wouldn't be too bad if she stayed somewhere more visible.

So this time Ellen stood at a collapsed window, lower arms on the remains of the window sill after shed removed what little glass had remained in the frame, which wasn't fucking much. Had another look around the inside of the former bar. whatever wallpaper had remained after the fire had been drenched with water and with the humid air, mould had started to spread. Cigarette butts and beer cans were on the floor, the dark stains near the remains of the bar either vomit or piss, possibly both by the smell of it. First assholes had started to tag the wall with graffiti. Her favourite was the genius that had put 'I WAS HERE TODAY ! Signed: Me' to the wall where the big mirror had been over the bar. Some others had followed, but apart from smashing few things that'd survived the fire, they had only added some more intelligent shit to the walls, added a few drawings of shit a fourteen year old saw as obcene today. Heh, almost cute. Almost. Perhaps she sould wait here and get the little fuckers?

But fun stuff first. Meant wait for Church to arrive. so she got back to the window and looked outdie to wait for the guy to arrive. Shuffled her feet, found a beer bottle and kicked it away annoyedly. Would be time in a bit. Wind was weak outside. She brushed the dirt of the windowsill and went through the pockets of her pants. Wasn't there...? Ah, there! She pulled out a deck of cards and put the first two to the surface. Then the next two, then one on top of them. Guy would make himself known and anything else happened, boys would be on the lookout. She'd picked the white shirt for a reason, would make her stand out more, but it'd make shit easier for Church.
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Church
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Putting the 'fun' in 'dysfunctional'
* * * *
Ah the Tripper...Is it wrong that I'm glad this place burnt down?

Glad burnt down and the queen bee-bitch has packed her bags and left. This place going up in flames did make things a lot less complicated, and yet was the catalyst that dragged me into all this fucking mess. See, the thing that really grips my shit about all this? That the Capes got off scott-free. They can burn down our bars and not lose anything in response. Of course, I've had thoughts about what eye I would like to pluck out in exchange for losing ours, but it ain't my call. Not mine alone, anyway. Cause you better believe your ass that a Cape does something wrong, he did it alone. An Anarch does something wrong, all his comrades are just as liable as he is. That's, what, natural law? Bullshit as it may be.

So I walk down this pavement I have a dozen other times, remembering the fucking things I seen and done between those dilapidated walls. Dry humped Nora, sure. Watched Linda get snuffed out. Gave the Baron the smack she always needed. Things that I sure as shit don't sit around reminiscing about, even if I thought I had no choice but to do that back then. Of course, things change. People change. People change people. Like the not-so-little lady at my side did for me.

”Best behaviour tonight, Princess, you got that?” I ask her gruffly, glancing sidelong at her and failing to stop the corners of my mouth lifting a touch. Yeah, looking at her makes me happy, so fucking sue me. That and the mere idea of her being on 'best behaviour' and just because somebody told her to...it's laughable. But damn if I ain't serious, I don't want her burning any bridges on my behalf tonight, I'm pretty sure I can manage that myself.

”If you don't got nothin' nice to say, you don't say nuttin' at all.” Or something to that effect. I brought her for insurance purposes, as in, if this turns out to be a trap for me, they wouldn't have expected her, right? I pity the fucker who's tasked with taking me down. But if he's got her too? He'd be better off eating a shotgun. I tried to get her to cover up, look less intimidating, masquerade as a dazed bimbo, my screw and meal for the night and then be more of a surprise if push came to shove. I have no idea if it worked, cause I still get all glossy eyed and wanting over her regardless of how she composes herself. ”Unless this bitch turns out to be a fucking moron, in which case, have at it.”

How I hope it doesn't come to that, a night wasted talking with the self-righteous Anarch who has no fucking idea what it's really about. I got...Ideas. I need somebody to let me know they don't suck. They might be crazy or ineffective, might need some fine tuning, but if they suck? Well, I guess I'd throw in the towel. Just like that. Catch the next plane-erm-train out of this fucking place and find somewhere new to live it up with my baby. Wouldn't that be nice and easy?

”Guess that's her...” As we close the distance to the fence, my eyes shift from the DO NOT ENTER, DANGER OF COLLAPSE to a brilliant figure in the window. Well, it's either her or a very clean hobo. I give my Princess the 'after you' hand gesture, something I wouldn't ordinarily do were it not for the fact that things seem pretty quiet. Not that too quiet shit neither. Just...calm. No suspicions or paranoia bubbling as I take a final glance up and down the street outside, no tenseness building in my chest over misguided beliefs that Jack is the culprit. Just a perfectly ordinary evening, in the dead husk of a shithole. I step past the fence and into the lifeless shell of, I find hard to believe, what was once the Anarch sanctuary. When I find somewhere to set up shop, I am so making sure the fire extinguishers are not out of date.

”King?” I ask, taking a few steps past my girl and towards her. She needs to see my pretty eyes after all.
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Mac
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Goddess of Fuck and War
* * * * *
Tonight was either a trap, or her Fanger was making friends. Tory vouched for this Jelena person, so she was mildly comfortable that it wasn't a trap. Mildly comfortable would still leave her expecting an attack from every direction, but she wasn't armed to the teeth with a flame thrower like she wanted to be. Church had wanted low key, incognito. He didn't want her to stand out like a sore thumb, which she naturally did.

How do you take a six foot amazon and make her less intimidating? Well, cover up those miles of excessive ink for one. She was covered in so many tattoo's that she had more surface area decorated than not, and it required a particular kind of fashion to hide the biker look effectively. Skinny jeans were of course in, hoping that the peachy curve of her ass would distract enough attention that no one would catch her slipping up with facial expressions and staring at anyone like potential meat. She'd gone with a long sleeve button up blouse, patterned with small flowers in a pale pink and green to try and feminize. Then she'd layered up the beaded necklaces, and gone with a pair of bright orange feathered earrings and a knitted orange and blue beanie that hung loosely at the back, with her dreads all spilling out (was this something Flint had made? Where the fuck had it turned up from?). With the lenses popped out of a pair of oversized black eye glasses, she had gone for a terribly accurate hipster look.

Normally she glossed her Southern accent over with a polite layer of universal american, tonight though? Well, she'd let it all hang out and then some, using a slightly feminized tone of voice that certainly wasn't her usual rough throated bark. She was going to go over the top, and might as well start to layered that sugared jelly on now for Churchs amusement before they walked into the hell hole, the tripper. Nora might be MIA, but she still had the tense urge to avoid this place because of her last run in with the once Baron a year ago.

“Ah Sugah, ya ain't got nothin' ta worry bout'. Sugah and spice, and everythin nice. ” She gave him a sort of unusually goofy grin, and then raised her bottle of gasoline like 96% vodka up to her lips as she took a swig. Then, to play up her role for the evening, she would loudly proclaim in a slightly slurry tone.

“Ah boy! My daddies going to kill me if he catches me sneakin around places like this with the likes of ya'll!” But she laughed and shook her bottle of Vodka at him, and then slipped under the fence with less grace than she really had, careful to try and stomp her Converse wearing feet somewhat heavier than she usually did. She didnt want to be a silent stalker in the night, she wanted to be a young, idiotic drunk girl turned on by the prospect of 'being bad'.

“Promise ya'll fuck me somewhere real dangerous after we meet yer friend? Wonder what's not broke in there... looks like it burned real good.” She'd shoot him somewhat less than pretending bedroom eyes, because guise of drunken girl or not she'd take getting laid in the wreckage of the tripper any night. Her eyes went up to the window, catching sight of the figure there. Somewhat...familair. Where had she seen that figure? She'd have to get closer, might jog the memories a bit more... something felt wrong as they made their way to the woman in the white shirt, but she couldn't tell what yet. Still, nothing to do but take another swig of Vodka and giggle like a fucking idiotic girl. She'd had a few good tokes earlier to help her find the inner giggler, and while it had certainly worn away now it wasn't to hard to remember how to act like a fool when it was so fresh in the memory banks.
Edited by TapestryofShame, Friday, 12. September 2014, 21:22.
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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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Jelena
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Anarch Mama Bear
* * * *
Sounds told her someone was on the way. Only it was two people, not one. Voice of the guy sounded somewhat like the one on the phone, didn't mean much with the crappy transmission, but it was a fucking start at least. A flick of her fingers made the card-house collapse. She picked the cards up and shuffled them back into the deck. They'd see, if this was her guy, perhaps he brought a meal ticket or something? The two came closer. Ellen didn't change her posture. Everything she needed was close at hand, so no problems there. Back was covered and the exit was free as well. Girl didn't ring a bell with her. Clothing struck her as odd, but she was too old for that shit anyway and didn't need to be up to date with that fashion bullshit. Still had a bad feeling about that girl, something was wrong with her, couldn't pin a finger on what exactly just now. Perhaps she wouldn't find out, perhaps she would. They'd see.

More obvious attention went to the guy though. Looked pretty plain and harmless, but that's what every single one of those fucks did before it was too late. Eyes were a hint at the phone call, still could've been some fuckhead getting off on other shit who'd just turned up for shits and giggles. There was a way to find out, and if that took asking, that's what she'd do, if only to see how the guy reacted, perhaps only to see him jump or shit."Who the fuck wants to know that?" Heh, always a great opener. If he's the guy who was on the phone, he'd be able to identify himself corectly. Let's see."You're the guy from the phone? What's the name again... Kirk?" One down one to go. "And who the fuck are you, missy?"
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Church
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Putting the 'fun' in 'dysfunctional'
* * * *
Boy this place is sure changed...I think. Truth be told, I can't really envision the place in my minds eye as to what it would have looked like pre-firey death explosion. Maybe not all that much better. Every time I was here previously was always because of that certain someone, whom I held so fucking dear only to get shit on. A lady who, honestly, I thought had shattered this illusion that I could find somebody to give a damn about and they might just do the same for me. Wishful thinking, or so the last Baron of London would have me believe. Yet here I am, with my sweet southern Jezebel tickling me in all the right ways. Playing the part of lust-struck bimbo so well that I might blow the cover if I break down into fits of laughter. I need to keep a straight face, play off the idea that this girl is something that I shall fuck and chuck after our little meeting here, and no more. I look at her in a way she should be accustom to, my peepers filling with devotion and admiration of my goddess, we might be rumbled. Her, uh, 'costume' helps with this last detail, to the point that her suggestion we bang somewhere dangerous gave me a pang of guilt to the gullet because I was having impure thoughts about somebody other than Mac. It is her brain...the lack of a wifebeater is throwing me a curveball though.

Anyway...eyes, and thoughts, off of Princess. For now. I got other woman troubles to deal with.

”Yeah, Kirk, that's right! Raymond Kirk, how'd you know? Most people call me Church, hell if I know why.” I shake my head a little, my expression an absolute paradox as it paints a perfect impression of 'I am super serious' as well as 'I am so not being serious.' Frankly? Though there are little buzzes and crackles and a bunch of little imperfections through the phone line, I recognise her tone, even if it appears to have roughened around the edges in person. So...in short, I guess I want to 'fucking know.'

”This is...” I gesture to my partner, not letting my gaze linger on her too long for fear of busting out into a smirk. I don't wanna touch her, because things can escalate just like that and King here gets a free live sex show. I don't wanna go near her neither, cause then maybe King see's how big Princess is, possibly how jacked to not look like a twig next to a guy like me and smell something fishy. Then again, Mac seems to be playing the whole dumb drunk bitch act well. Who'd have thought it, huh?”Could you believe it? Findin' someone in London from my neck of the woods. Sort of. Why don't you introduce yourself to the lady, sweetheart?” There, just play it off as the typical uncaring asshole who doesn't even know his screws name. Also lets her get a little creative with the name I suppose. Oh Jebus.
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Mac
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Goddess of Fuck and War
* * * * *
She made a mental note to call him Raymond Kirk while they were fucking later, simply because she hoped it would throw him for a hard enough loop he'd actually have to stop and wonder if she had just called him the wrong name. Churchs memory for the minor details like that was much poorer than her's, she might get a smack if he took it to seriously. Anything to get a nice little love tap right? She grinned like an idiot, which worked well with the drunken Southern persona she was portraying. Really, this was the easiest and most natural personality for her to play. She just had to go back two decades and get in the drunken pre-ghouling teen mode and it all came back like riding a bicycle.

Brown eyes opened wide as they went through the wreckage, her lips parting in a sort of awe struck Ooooohhh at all the damaged. Really, she was using it as an excuse to take in their surroundings in detail. Where were the exits, holes, and hide aways? Was this a trap? When Church told her to introduce herself, she spun on a sneakered foot and pushed the sleeve of her flower patterned blouse up off her wrist a little to wave to Jelena. Now, she'd take the time to study the woman up closer. She'd play the human fear of uneasiness though, because this woman struck Mac as someone regular girls probably didn't feel all to comfortable with. Jelena's gaze was to unwavering, demeanor to matter of fact, expressions to pointed and hard. Humans probably gave the woman a wide berth, and while Mac wouldnt react that way Christie might.

“Heya! I'm Christina! But like, everyone calls me Tina!” She had fucking hated Tina Melibini in high school, and she went for the ditziest name she could remember. Tina had been a short red head, but ain't like anyone else knew she didn't fit the description of Ms. Melibini. “Really charmed to meet ya here... in um... well, whatever this place was. Can I poke around?! I might be able to find a cool souvenier! Maybe they missed a box of booze somewhere and we can all be the heroes at the next party location!” She wanted to feel out for any hidden folk ready to get the drop on them, as she figured Church could maybe handle the psycho of a woman he was there to talk too. Dumbly, she would try and wander away to inspect the bar area.
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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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Jelena
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Anarch Mama Bear
* * * *
Ellen laughed. Shortly. "Yeah, can see why. Name like that's a hard deal." Made up names and seedy backstories. For a second she really thought she'd missed that. Much fun could be had with that bullshit, but the reason for this heap of fun and games was dead serious. As serious as the Brujah. Still hadn't figured out why he had brought the girl with him. "Ain't that hard, is it? Have seen all kinds of people pouring in here recently. Americans, Soviets... You name it, the city fucking got it. But congratulations to your luck of the draw." She'd seen people do worse than bring a drink to a meeting. Always a dumb move, though. Did she trust the guy? Kinda. Tory said he was OK, so he was OK. Should've asked if he was a dumb fuck or not, but yeah. Hadn't done it, so the damage was done and she couldn't be sure. Fuck that. It happened.

Eyes were the window to the soul, wasn't that what some guy wrote? Fancy shit aside, it helped at times. The Brujah wasn't impressed with Christina. Didn't trust her half as far as she'd be able to throw her, because that'd be quite a distance normally. And she wanted Tina there to know that she'd keep an eye on her. Kinda. Was supposed to be busy with Church here. "Won't stop you. Just don't break a leg or do a nosedive from the stairs or shit." Souvenir hunter, eh? She didn't like those, but the best pieces had been taken away already anyway. Ellen hadn't been picky. If it had looked usable, she'd taken it. She looked as Tina went inside, if she did. "Right. Got my note and perhaps also saw the one the head honcho on the other side put out. You're here, that means you want to do something about it. Got any plans already?"
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Church
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Putting the 'fun' in 'dysfunctional'
* * * *
Ok, so she's laughing. Whats more, she hasn't dropkicked me, at least not yet. That's always a plus, especially since it always seems to freaking happen with these people. Like Mac, and like Tory, blondie here stinks of mean bitch. To the point that I get a little weary of Princess wandering around all dim-witted and curious. Last lady who ran this joint chomped a mortal to death and didn't bat an eyelid, and while my baby can handle taking lumps with the best of them, I'd rather not have her dangle like a red rag in front of a bull. But nothing happens. She seems a little perplexed with my choice to bring someone not on the level, hell, I'd be worried if she didn't give a shit. Beyond that, she seems fine with it. Maybe Mac's that good an actress or she's not a bloodthirsty maniac who swats humans like flies. Maybe she's actually got a good head on her, huh? Good eyes at least. Good enough to understand that this place is a crockpot full of oddballs. And Soviets. That what she is?

Mac needs to go wandering. And King approves. Awesome.

"Don't go getting lost now, honey." I call after the artist formally known as Macintosh, not especially keen to let her out of my sight. If there is somebody here, and this is a set up, they're being awful sneaky about it. Though the kind of world we live in? Could be some unseen motherfucker lurking right behind either of us. Could be Jack, with a shell cocked and loaded in the shotgun pressed to the back of her skull. Such thoughts are why I don't particularly like meeting new people. Hell, leaving the house is a fucking risk in this messed up world. Paranoia is healthy in small doses, and seeing as I know I'm out of my mind thinking the worst case all the time, I'm gonna swallow that shit down and hope for the best.

"Well, you got tha 'want to do something about it' part right. That 'something' though is kinda...up in the air for the moment." I squint an eye as if the thought pains me in some way. I let my eyes shift to Mac as if I'm checking that she's not paying attention, though in reality I'm just noting how good her ass looks in those jeans. "I've been looking into bits and pieces, but ain't like I've ever done this before." Whatever this is. "What I do know is that I'm keeping Enfield out of Bluckers hands, with or without your help." I mean no offence by saying that, and I'm sure she'll get that from my voice. I'm feeling a little tense maybe, but I've had worse nerves and hidden them back when I had shit like a heartbeat.

"I figure there are two things that need to be done before anything else; first, a new gettup. Seeing as this..." I gesture to, well, everything. Not like I'm gonna point to a patch that miraculously didn't get fucked up, right? "...We need a roof with four walls, somewhere that newcomers know where to go and get the latest on what the fuck goes on in this fucking city. One that capes ain't welcome in. Or fireworks or whatever the fuck happened." I know what happened. Sort of. The important part is that the fucking Camarilla started shit they didn't wanna finish.

"I...maybe have a place? But I could really do with a second opinion as to whether that idea doesn't suck dick." I cross my arms and look at her, and ask the question: Well, does it suck dick?
Edited by Church, Wednesday, 8. October 2014, 18:23.
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Jelena
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Anarch Mama Bear
* * * *
"Damn straight, it is. That's why I wanted to meet." So Church hadn't done anything like this either. Misery fucking liked company, eh? Meant they couldn't work from experience, but at least they were on the same fucking page then. Sounded like they were on the same page on a few things. Good thing. "Ain't done it before either. And I keep Willesden out of hands that don't belong there. Least I like to think to think I do. With or without your help. But we need more people like that." And that's why we were there, didn't take a genius to connect the dots. Ellen didn't like that girl behind her back where she couldn't see her. Or people in hr back in general. Made her uneasy. Like now, not much, but that might change. The Brujah liked to think that wouldn't be necessary though.

Idea with the new getup was bought. Tripper ain't in a form to compete really and the Dream? Nice cash machine, but perhaps too posh for the more grounded guys. Ellen always felt excluded in that fucking thing. Same with Hospitality. Gave off a vibe that didn't appeal to her. Made her feel cheap and unwelcome. Not fucking refined enough. So the guy had a point. Did the idea suck dick? Didn't know, perhaps he was into that shit, but she'd give him the benefit of normalcy in that. "Sensible idea, Tripper's gone and the other places won't appeal and are too public. What's on your mind with the place? Anything you can tell me that you ain't gonna have to kill me for later?" She gave him one of her ironic grins. Cards on the table time!
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Church
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Putting the 'fun' in 'dysfunctional'
* * * *
Sensible idea? Alrighty, I guess that means it doesn't suck dick!

Well, that's something. Makes me feel all warm and fuzzy to know that I'm not going about this the complete wrong way. Common sense has won the day, which is perhaps something she didn't expect from the dumbass who's brought his squeeze to the meeting? Said squeeze now floundering around the blackened corner that happens to be highlighted with the shimmer of glass. She's not shooting me any looks, giving no warnings, so it's game on, right? I can feel my lips get a little looser, if you can even fathom such a thing being possible. Nothing that I'll have to kill her for. Push comes to shove, I have a ghoul for that.

”I found a warehouse for sale up north, used to make car parts or some shit. Couple of thousand square feet, not that it means much to me...S'big.” That's as eloquently as I can put it, cause me and facts aren't especially compatible with one another. It's a big ass warehouse, not the biggest in the world, but I don't need that. I can't imagine there being enough Anarchs to fill a tenth of the place. ”Somewhere that isn't an open door for just anyone, hell, I don' exactly want it to be a place people come to pretend their something they ain't. I don't want people coming around unless there's a reason for it.”

Might seem harsh, but it's the truth. Hanging out in bars is only as fun as how much you enjoy hanging out in bars. I don't want people coming to this place for the sake of it, just cause, hey look at me I'm part of the cause. No, this is going to be something different.

”For business, y'know? Lookin' after people who need it. Somewhere folk can stay if they need a roof, know to go to if there's trouble. Somewhere we can handle our shit, or in our case, start shit. Not a fuckin' bar.”

I hate bars. Especially this fucker.
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Mac
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Goddess of Fuck and War
* * * * *
She snuck off, although it wasn't really sneaking. If she wanted to sneak, she damn well could disappear into a silent stalking that would leave everyone wondering where she'd gone. No, 'Tina's ideas of sneaking off was making loud noises every once in a while as she poked about. Now and then she'd kick over something that would fall, and crash with a loud noise. Then she would madly cackle like a drunk girl would, bemused by the 'clumsiness'.

Really, she was trying to get everywhere and invite an attack from whatever minions this woman had hiding in the dark corners. She explored the dark corners while they talked, finding cracked and empty bottles and turning them over to watch all the nothing slide out of them. This place had been picked apart by the vultures already, she'd find no good booze here. Good thing she'd brought her own. She took a swig from the one she'd brought along with her, and continued to poke around.

She was starting to lose interest in giving invisible attacks easy shots, they kept fucking turning the other cheek when she left herself wide for an opportunity. She also couldn't smell them out, as her Sabbat in the rafters radar was completely silent. Eventually, she just started wandering back towards the pair a bit to try and eaves drop. If Church sent a quiet little signal she'd be sure to keep her distance, but if not she wanted in.
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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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Jelena
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Anarch Mama Bear
* * * *
Big ware house, eh? Sounded like as good as a thng to start from as any. Especially without the bar flair. Didn't mind it, but it was nice to not have actual peope around in case shit got out of hand a bit. Didn't it always with Anarchs sooner or later? Less public place helped to keep fucks like Sebbie out and gave them some control about who got in. Good thing, really. "Sounds great, so we're talking some sort of hotel or hideout and hub for those in need who can also prove they're with us? I like that!" Perhaps they could add to that and get a few more places to lay low. Some sort of underground railroad for dire times? From there on? Sky was the fucking limit as long as they got the manpower to pull it off, all that shit didn't keep itself in shape after all...

Her eyebally shifted towards the corners of her eyes as if she was trying to get a feel of where Mac was. Not that there was a chance to do that with her back turned, but that was the point, wasn't it? The noise and the cackling were a bit annoying, but what the hell, at least it kept that girl where she could kinda place her. For now. "So yeah, I'm aboard, as they'd say. Another point that's perhaps interesting... Baroncy. People think we need one and I think even f we don't we need people to meet somewhere and decide how we#re going to put everything together. Thoughts?"
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Church
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Putting the 'fun' in 'dysfunctional'
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Hotel and hub? Sure, I suppose it is. I mean, I hope people aren't gonna try and take the piss, live somewhere free and cause trouble all the while. But in instances where folk have nowhere else, where they need to know they're safe? Again, I don't want anyone to think they can blow up the Muse and come scampering back to me with tears in their eyes, crying that the mean old Camarilla want their head. Hell, in such circumstances I'm more inclined to take the fuckers head to the Prince myself. But for the new arrivals? Those who's havens were in the parts of London that decided to fucking sink into the ground? Those who were on the Capes naughty list for no rational reason? Could get awkward, considering the Rat-bastard Sheriff who might be tasked to track down the so called security threats. He'd have to find us first. And given he knows me and Mac as well as he does, it might be a great deterrent in him not wanting to find us.

I notice her eyes shift, suspicious of the 'creeping' Mac, which I don't know puts me at ease or makes me even more concerned. I mean, does she think she's getting jumped tonight? Or is Princess close to stumbling upon the real jumpers?

"I said it to Victoria 'other night; Even if there's somebody suited to do it, they shouldn't do it alone. Going things alone doesn't work well for too long, people get paranoid. Corrupted. Lose sight of shit when it's only their voice tellin' them right and wrong." My tone isn't exactly aggressive, but there is clearly something spiteful in the words I say and in how I say them. Not only would that be worse than having a fucking Prince up here too, but it's just not safe enough for my liking. The world being what it is, all it takes is for something to slither inside the head of the best and brightest and suddenly they're dancing to the tune of somebody else whether they know it or not. That shit just ain't happening, not even if I have to do this all by myself, I'll ask Mac to keep me in line.

"I think we need a few like minded individuals. Or, actually, completely fucking different thinkers. Keep things balanced, y'know? See things differently. Tory for example. I mean, that stick up her ass is probably there for good reason. I get the impression she's seen and done more than ninety percent of the pups 'round here. Unfortunately, she's the extent of my phonebook, and she sure as shit didn't wanna give me that number."

It's perhaps hypocritical of me to think, since I'm one of the biggest fuckwits going, but something inside me is forever niggling with the fear that this will all come tumbling down on our heads. Perhaps personal history and old, painful memories won't let me believe that every fanger who comes through the door and claims to be true to the cause is just that. And who are we to say otherwise? Who am I to say otherwise? My eyes wander around the bar again, not looking for the viking this time but rather interested in the dynamic of having a god damn pub as the headquarters. Letitia did it, and she did it damn well, what with having half the bar closed off for the spooks to get some privacy and ghoulish doormen who would wipe patrons memories if things got a little supernatural. Which inevitably happens. And couple that with the proposal that we might have some sort of council to decide upon matters, a council that I'm guessing will consist of a few Brujah...oh Jebus...

"She'd make a great Baron. She sure as shit wouldn't wannit though. And as mean a bitch as she is, she can argue a point without having to smash skulls in to drive it home. I figure we get a table full of people like that, we might be in business."
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Jelena
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Anarch Mama Bear
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Church made a point about the problems of the single voice for right and wrong. Ellen thought of the other end, though. Had experienced it a few times, was as much a problem as Church's shit was. The reason why even Anarchs needed fucking rules and all that. "Same if it's too many. Either they fight over shit that's not important or they break up. Get paranoid too. People are smart. Large gatherings are stupid." And also loud and violent as fuck. Not good to get shit done. See last Brujah meet. Was all about finding the right balance of numbers. They got that, they were good as gold and could get something done. The Brujah cracked her fingers and looked back at Church.

"Far as I can tell, we're about seven at the moment if you're on board, few more hanging in the loop until I think they're OK. Might take a while, don't know them or someone who trusts them, makes them possible risks and perhaps better to keep out of the initial thing." Not very democratic but better than debate things to fucking death and get Jack shit done. Baron thing was a good point with that. "That's one of the points. What kind of Baron do we want. Leader? Diplomat and rule shit through council? Council without headbangers'd be fucking great to decide that. 'Nother reason I'm not sure what to do with the people I ain't too trustful about."
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