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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Beer, Whiskey, Weed? [OPEN]
Topic Started: Tuesday, 30. September 2014, 18:02 (5,245 Views)
Lynx
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Lord Torchwood
* * * * * *
Lynx was in a simple white button down shirt, a black apron and a pair of black slacks. He had taken to wearing sandals after ruining a pair of shoes with an unfortunate display of temper. He had his sleeves rolled back to his elbows to reveal his pale muscular forearms. The stocky 5'7 Irishman was not a particularly imposing figure. His face was in between. In between boyish and manly. In between handsome and rugged. In between masculine and cute. The thumb thick scar traveling down the left side of his face did lend him a certain rakish demeanor but it was his lively green eyes that gave his face passion. Otherwise he might be utterly forgettable.

Tonight he was polishing his bar, as he so often did. Wiping it down with a simple white rag and wondering who might come in to enjoy the evening. Business had been picking up a bit. Perhaps that trend would continue. He had new stock after all. Now the vampires who cared to experience getting high could do so with the blood of nice clean pot heads. Should be an interesting draw. It was expensive but he did serve by the Pint. Because he was Irish, and Pints were appropriate.

So for now he relaxed with an easy smile and waited to see who might walk in the door.
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“if you consider a woman less pure after you've touched her maybe you should take a look at your hands”
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Oliver
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Dork
* * * * *
"An hour is fine, see you then, Fidel."


Good. Operation: Mr. Gersdorff underway!

Oliver had already showered that evening, and so he merely changed his usual black suit for something more casual. He would just add a black leather jacket to that, and drive his bike - less formal.

Finding a parking spot was not too hard, considering the neighbourhood. He tied his helm to his seat, and made his way to the Club, passed the low iron fence, and up the stairs. He had not taken any weapon this time. Domina had been satisfied that the meeting was here, and the feeling he'd had, the last time he was here, had been a good one. Mr. O'Rourke was decent, and so was Miss Sherwood. They'd both been very gracious, and this is something that the ghoul had appreciated. He felt safe enough going back.

So it was with a friendly expression that he made his way in. Looking around and not seeing the Brujah, he walked to the counter, where Mr. O'Rourke was, as usual it seemed, caring for the polished wood, and offered him a smile. "Good eveni..."

And that's when he noticed the fangs...

Falling silent, he straightened up and lowered his eyes. "I'm sorry, Mr. O'Rourke. I was not aware... Please accept my apologies, as well as my congratulations," he offered very respectfully, not quite certain as to how to proceed from there... The other ghoul had been Embraced. A gangrel. This, Oliver had not expected.
Edited by Oliver, Wednesday, 1. October 2014, 20:46.
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Lynx
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Lord Torchwood
* * * * * *
"Ah Gods above don't bow te me. Fer christ sake have some balls man. I'm a fecking vampire not the lord Jesus almighty."

Lynx stared at Oliver like he had grown a second head. His green eyes were wide and more than a bit baffled. Why in gods name would someone else's ghoul be bowing to him? He was the Lord Torchwood but he didn't actually ADVERTISE that fact so he doubted to many people were aware that he was technically part of England's large pool of landed aristocracy.

"Thanks fer yer congratulations. Jason isn't in iffen yer back looking fer him again. He's out taking care o'some business tonight. So I'll have te leave ye disappointed again."

The Irishman was maintaining the public fiction that Jason remained in London and watched over the Club. It seemed for the best. After all Elders were known to be reclusive and a secretive lot. So not seeing him often was a simple enough thing to explain. Still it was just bizarre to see a ghoul bow to him. Then again Reggie was all submissive and prim and proper around Ms Sherwood. Perhaps he had just had far more freedom than a ghoul normally would. Jason after all had wanted him to be a strong and stubborn fighter. He supposed the different clans had different expectations for their ghouls.
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“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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Tristan Gersdorff
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Passion-Junkie
* * * *

The cab stopped some houses down the street and Tristan got out, paying the cabby and waiting until the car drove off, then taking the Little walk in the dark towards Hospitality.
The nights started to get cooler and longer, what wasn't so bad, but the cool brought new problems... the visible breath... it wasn't that cool now, but it would be soon.

The Brujah decided to wear Versace tonight. the flashy blue on his arms would maybe be a warning. Lighting strikes you, if too cheeky. The tight leatherpants brought out his ass in a nice way, so he was quite comfortable on his way. To see Lynx again would be nice too, he guessed, if there wasn't Mr. Bow wow...

So he entered the club and just seeing this Fidel guy at the bar across to Lynx. With a wide grin, he walked over to the bar.

Hey handsome, good evening, how are you?

Seeing the Irish again made him feel some comfortable shivers and the tip of his tongue slid along his pearly whites.
His smile dropped nearly completely turning to the Ghoul.

Good evening Fidel, good you could make it.

Throwing his curly strands back behind his shoulders with a Swift tilt of his head, then smirking over to Lynx again. Will you please be so friendly preparing a tankard of this stuff from last time for me? And Fidel here will be my guest tonight, just write it all on my bill.
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Oliver
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Dork
* * * * *
"Ah Gods above don't bow te me. Fer christ sake have some balls man. I'm a fecking vampire not the lord Jesus almighty."

Oliver grinned at that, raised his eyes and nodded once. "Fair enough, Sir. Balls acquired," he jested, seeing there the Anarch spirit. The bow of his head had been instinctive, of course. Not only had it been bred into him, but Ventrue ghoul face to face with Kindred, no thought process there, merely forty-five years of training.

But 'New Oliver 0.1' could adapt, and was now in full swing!

"Thanks fer yer congratulations. Jason isn't in iffen yer back looking fer him again. He's out taking care o'some business tonight. So I'll have te leave ye disappointed again."

Another nod replied to the thanks, but that was quickly followed by a slight shake of his head. "No, nothing like that tonight, Sir," he said honestly. "I'm merely here to meet someone, Mr. Tristan Gersdorff, for a friendly chat." He paused there. "By the way, my name is Fidel... I didn't lie, last time, but yeah, it changed since," he admitted with a sheepish smile. "I am ghoul to the Prince's Chief of Security, Miss Elisabeth Andrasko," he went on, introducing himself fully. "She has much respect for this establishment, and was actually very pleased that Mr. Gersdorff wanted to meet here," he added, just for good measure.

And the Kindred would surely see the sincerity in his eyes, as Oliver was doing nothing to conceal this - quite the opposite. This evening, he was presenting himself as an open book. Transparency. Best way to deal with the Anarch, he reflected, as it was the most respectful thing to do.

Then the door was opened...

"Hey handsome, good evening, how are you?

Turning to see who it was, Oliver's warm smile remained as Mr. Gersdorff addressed Mr. O'Rourke.

"Good evening Fidel, good you could make it.

Is that so? the ghoul mused - is that why you seem so glad to see me then? he wondered, having missed nothing of the other's sobering humour. Oh well.

"Good evening, Sir," he replied, his smile merely dissipating slightly into a friendly nod.

"Will you please be so friendly preparing a tankard of this stuff from last time for me? And Fidel here will be my guest tonight, just write it all on my bill."

How kind...

He didn't argue despite his good manners - he'd made the call, he should be paying. But it was best to let the Kindred have his way. Brujah.

At that, Oliver turned to the Gangrel. He was about to reply that anything would do, but then he remembered: Balls. And so, he frowned a bit with a thoughtful expression. "I'll have a tall glass of Illegal Vitae... Ventrue only, if you please?" he asked, and winked at Mr. O'Rourke. "No... just cognac will do, please Sir," he added, turning back to his host. "It is nice out tonight, isn't it?" he asked with some amusement in his eyes.

Balls.
Edited by Oliver, Wednesday, 1. October 2014, 22:05.
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Lynx
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Lord Torchwood
* * * * * *
Lynx chuckled in amusement at Oliver's response. At least the Ventrue ghoul showed a bit of spunk. He wasn't cowering. The Gangrel nodded his head in acknowledgement to the man's straightening up. He smiled, a flash of fangs in a scarred face and good humor.

"Alright Fidel. Jest don't be causing trouble with any Anarchs who wander in. I try te consider me place te be neutral territory. Figure a pair o'Elders should be enough te keep the peace."

He chuckled. It was a reminder, but in his mind it was a gentle reminder. The fact that it was a bluff wasn't entirely apparent. After all, he did have ONE Elder who was regularly in the building. So that was something. "Glad ye like the place. I designed most o'it meself. Wanted te go fer something that combined an old Phileas Fogg style Gentleman's Club with an Irish Pub. Seems to have worked out." Because the club had, in fact, been largely inspired by the black and white film 80 Days Around the World. Not that he'd really admitted that to many people.

His gaze shifted to Tristan as he walked in and he gave the Brujah a lusty wink and a chuckle. He walked around the back of the bar and prepared Tristan a hefty tankard of drunken man's blood, beer drunk in this case. He looked over at Fidel and paused, considering.

"I don't have Cognac, I do have a very solid Glenlivet Scotch though, would that do?"

He didn't want to delay the men in their business, but a good tapster does his best to find what his guests want. Fidel's comment about other vampires blood. Was there really a market for that? He'd have to contact Kristoff and see. He doubted it would come cheap, and he had a feeling it might be a damned awkward thing to explain depending on the situation.

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“if you consider a woman less pure after you've touched her maybe you should take a look at your hands”
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Tristan Gersdorff
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Passion-Junkie
* * * *

Tristans glittering brandy eyes followed Lynx, when he prepared his blood. Biting his lower lips then and smirking, when he offered Fidel a Scotch instead of congnac.

Taking the tankard then, feeling the nice warmth of it and smelling the special blood. Thank you Lynx.

Waiting for the Ghoul then and looking out for a table to sit and talk. whatever the topic should be. Still he felt like there was a hidden dagger. unless daggers not really were such a threat, but he would hate a hole in his Versace stuff...

Yes, it's nice outside and the nights getting longer. More time for... whatever... The Brujah said with a wanton wink to the golden Irish.

Since I'm not aware of the topic of our talk, maybe you should chose a table, Fidel. He looked at the Ghoul, waiting, not unfriendly, but obviously distant. Still the memory of the other evening at the XXL was fresh. He was friendly then, told them, they had nothing to fear and anyway they behaved, like he was the antichrist and now he was here, not knowing why and having far more funny things in mind, but sitting with this Ventrue-Ghoul.
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Oliver
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Dork
* * * * *
The fanged grin made Oliver sigh inwardly. Mr. O'Rourke had been found worthy by his Sire, something to be proud of. And this emotion would be there to see in his pale, green eyes, as the ghoul looked into the Kindred's.

"Alright Fidel. Jest don't be causing trouble with any Anarchs who wander in. I try te consider me place te be neutral territory. Figure a pair o'Elders should be enough te keep the peace."

Oliver got the hint, but he was not worried as his visit here, tonight, was truly a social call... mostly. "You bet, Sir. And, speaking of them, I do hope that Miss Sherwood, and that Mr. Jason are well," he added with another warm smile. He'd liked Miss Sherwood. In a sense, she was a part of his world... his past, perhaps, but some things you couldn't quite shed. Mr. Jason he'd never met; but if the Elder Gangrel was Mr. O'Rourke's Sire, then it was easy to assume that he was a nice guy as well.

"Glad ye like the place. I designed most o'it meself. Wanted te go fer something that combined an old Phileas Fogg style Gentleman's Club with an Irish Pub. Seems to have worked out."

The ghoul glanced around with an appreciating eye, taking in a more accurate look of the place, and could well imagine his fellow ghouls letting it loose here. "Yes, it's very welcoming, and... has a nice, relax feel to it. I like it a lot," he commented, with a thoughtful expression.

"I don't have Cognac, I do have a very solid Glenlivet Scotch though, would that do?"

"That would do just fine, Sir," he replied with an appreciative smirk. "Thank you."

"Yes, it's nice outside and the nights getting longer. More time for... whatever..."

The wink towards Mr. O'Rourke did not escape the ghoul, but they did seem to know one another well enough - no crime in that.

When he was served, Oliver accepted the drink. "Thank you, Sir," he said again, raising the glass slightly to the Gangrel, before taking a sip, and letting it settle and warm him up. "...excellent," he added. There, see I trust you, please don't kill me. Balls of steel. And, with that, he followed the Brujah to the tables...

"Since I'm not aware of the topic of our talk, maybe you should choose a table, Fidel."

"Of course, Sir," the ghoul replied politely. "But as I've assured you, it's nothing formal. I merely wished to be of service, in my limited capacity, considering how kind you had been with us, the other night," Oliver explained, picking a table from which he would be able to see the entire bar, and that would offer some privacy, just in case.

There he sat, put his glass down in front of him, and unzipped his leather jacket. "So first, I would like to 'unofficially' welcome you to London," he said with a slight grin. "I hope that your journey was pleasant?" he added, understanding that he came from Germany - a plus, in Oliver's book.
Edited by Oliver, Wednesday, 1. October 2014, 23:19.
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Reggie
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Little Sparrow
* * *
Reggie came up from the storage basement carrying a box that looked rather large and heavy for a woman her size to be carrying. She squeezed behind the bar and the quiet sound of clinking bottles could be heard as she put the box down and started restocking.

Reggie had made herself an underbust corset that was decorated in a black and red embroidered burlesque style. A closer look would reveal that the red bits were actually small Batgirl symbols. The corset pushed Reggie's bosom up into a plump decolletage. A classic frilly white off-the-shoulder blouse completed the wench look. Her hair was pulled up into two manga bulbs and tied off with red and black ribbons.

Below the corset she wore a pleated black skirt that flared out to her knees and red leather boots that clung up her shins. Her make-up made her eyes pop and her lips were painted luscious red.

Reggie reappeared from behind the bar and placed a full bowl of black and red M&M's on it. She took a look around at the patrons. She glanced over at Lynx after seeing Oliver, gauging the boss's mood. The last time Oliver was here... was a bit of an event.

Either way, there was a bar to tend and she put on a nice smile; hopefully business would keep picking up.



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Lynx
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Lord Torchwood
* * * * * *
Lynx nodded to the two once they had their drink and then turned to watch Reggie go about her bartending business. He grinned at her and nodded at her as well, just to remind her she was doing a good job. Sometimes it was good to just reassure people. Then again he was a positive guy with a penchant for positive reinforcement. Came far more naturally to him than trying to think up ways to discipline someone.

Besides, Reggie wasn't his to discipline and he wasn't going to cross Ms Sherwood for anything.

So since the bar was well guarded by it's petite wench he walked over to the pool table and started racking a solid pyramid. He was far enough from Oliver and Tristan that he couldn't easily overhear them. He figured if they wanted a more private meeting they could have asked to use one of the meeting rooms upstairs. He grinned to consider what Tristan might do with the good looking ghoul. Though he had no idea which way Oliver swung. Wasn't a bad looking man himself.

Taking down a pool cue he set the cueball and broke with a simple slam. The balls scattered everywhere. He didn't manage to sink anything, but since he wasn't playing anyone he didn't have to. He grinned and winked at Reggie, just to make her flush. The girl had no idea how to interact with him since he'd become a vampire and he couldn't help but tease her a bit.
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“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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Tristan Gersdorff
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Passion-Junkie
* * * *

The Brujah sat down at the table Fidel chose and turned his chair a little to have his back towards the wall and seeing at least the entrance.

His brow rose a bit when the girl showed up. Ghoul or Kindred? Hm.. cute, if one liked girls. A smirk curved his lips and with this thought, his eyes went over to what he liked definitely more... Lynx at the pool table. For a second a rather naughts thought about this, Lynx and a pool table, crossed his mind and again he felt this comfortable shiver.

Finally his goldenbrown eyes found back to Fidel. He lifted the tankard to say cheers, then he took a deep sip of the nicely tempered blood, letting it slowly trickle down his throat. Another sip and he waited to feel the soft booze in his system.

Thank you for the welcome and yes, my journey was nice and without problems.

Tristan still couldn't figure out, what the deeper sense in this meeting was. Maybe to keep him from fucking mohawks brains out? Or to keep him far from home? No.. Peter was safe and no idiot, when it came to any incident.

You can imagine, I'm still curious to whom you belong. And also what kind of information and help you have in mind.

Giving the Irish mans firm ass another glance, as he bent over the pool table again.
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Michael
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Michael Larson
* * *
Business (and public transportation) brought Michael to the northern reaches of London tonight. While his first lead didn't produce immediate business, there was promise for future trade, and that was good enough to put a smile on his face. That done, he headed in a generally southerly direction on foot to meet the second person he arranged to speak with tonight.

Pulling the crumpled paper out of his pocket, he smoothed it out as best he could to check the address. A residential street isn't what he was expecting. Meeting a stranger at their home for the first time wasn't very smart of a guy. Maybe things are done differently here?

Paper still in hand, he walks down the street until he finds the matching number, then steps to the door. He knocks at the same time as he tries the handle, a surprised expression crossing his face as he finds it unlocked.

"Hello?" he calls, a smile in his tone, as he steps-- into a bar? The fuck? He blinks as he looks around, then down at his paper, then around again. Strange.

Dressed in blue jeans and a t-shirt with the logo of an American indie band on it, soon enough he'd be underdressed for the fall weather, but tonight no one should look twice at his lack of a jacket. Still, the warmer air felt nice after the brisk evening temperature.

Shoving the paper back into his pocket, he heads for the bar, head turning as he openly checks the other male faces, appearing as though he's looking for someone.

"Hey," he greets Reggie with a smile, his accent marking him as American. As his gaze moves over her outfit, he lets out a low whistle of admiration. "Can I get a beer?" He adds big, hopeful eyes and a warm smile on to his request, playfully flirting with her.
Edited by Michael, Thursday, 2. October 2014, 00:59.
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Oliver
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Dork
* * * * *
Oliver, as well, noticed the young woman and nodded to her discretely, in a gentle hello. Miss Sherwood's ghoul, if he wasn't mistaking. He'd seen how the Elder had been protective of her. His smile remained, from afar - a smile of endearment, as he then watched Mr. O'Rourke greeting her. How nice, he thought.

"Thank you for the welcome and yes, my journey was nice and without problems."

The ghoul had returned the attention that he was getting, cheered back, drank some more of his 'very solid Glenlivet Scotch' - which was definitely solid, and nodded politely. "That's good, Sir. I am glad to hear it," he replied, knowing how difficult it could be to travel for Kindred - and most importantly, how dangerous.

And again, he too looked over at the other green eyed creature as he moved to the pool table. The creature who, just a short while ago, had been a ghoul just like him... Everyone here was quite attractive, but this was business. And not honeypot business.

"You can imagine, I'm still curious to whom you belong. And also what kind of information and help you have in mind."

"Yes, indeed," Oliver said then when Mr. Gersdorff spoke again...

But suddenly, he noticed the door opening, and gave a slight frown as a stranger poked his head in... and the ghoul watched, as that one made his way to the bar; but the smaller ghoul, behind the bar, did not seem in danger, and so Oliver brought his attention fully on his host, and offered another warm smile.

"And so yes, please allow me to introduce myself properly," he went on, putting his glass down once more. "My name is Fidel, as you know. I am ghoul to Miss Alžbìta Andráško-Blücher, our Prince's kin and Chief of Security," he said with the normal pride of a ghoul, no more. He was careful not to seem haughty in any way - he was merely expressing facts. "This is why I hesitated to inform you of our identities, the other night, Mr. Gersdorff. You see, the young one with me, at the time, was Ouji, one of the Prince's ghouls. And so I needed to be extremely cautious," he explained with his Romanian accent, and a bit of regret in his eyes. "Again, my apologies for that."

No one would hear those words, except perhaps Mr. O'Rourke, if he happened to move a bit closer, as Oliver made no effort to conceal the subject of their conversation.

Edited by Oliver, Thursday, 2. October 2014, 03:59.
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Tristan Gersdorff
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* * * *

Tristan still was mistrusting. Usually he was easy going with people, also with Ghouls, he wasn't the one who needed this silly "master and servant" game. But this guy here had hit him on the wrong side and he hated this servile behaviour Fidel obviously enjoyed.

So his expression was friendly at best, but perceptible distant. The Brujah nodded thoughtful, when Fidel finally gave a full introduction and he smiled even a little bit, when he heard, he wasn't that far away with his assumptions about the Ghouls.

When the door opened and the young man entered the club, he gave him a short gaze. Quite nice on first sight. Maybe later... Then turned back his attention to the Ventrue-Ghoul.

Do you know this new guest? When the Ghoul offered to share information, then this was just one, he would ask for...

His goldenbrown eyes lay on the Ghoul, still not unfriendly, but rather thoughtful. Tristan took a deep sip of his tankard, the taste wasn't exactly the same like last time, but still the effect was the same and he felt the slight booze.

Thank you for the introduction and the clarification, Fidel. I also understand, you had certain orders of behaving as you said then. I understand, that you wanted to be extra cautious, because of the Princes Ghoul, but...

He put down the tankard and leaned one elbow on the table, his glance still kind of piercing on the Ghouls palegreen eyes, even a little frowning.

...what I don't understand, is your behaving anyway. Was it poor judgement or just fear, or what? After my first approach were you not able to read the signs? If I wanted to accuse you, do you think, I would have just whispered in your ear? Would I have left things, like I did?

Tristans eyes again felt on the stranger, who was at the bar now. If there was the smalles sign of aggression against the "wench" the guy would be sorry.
A little headshake brought him back to Fidel.

I don't know what you experienced in your life, really, but if I was Sabbat or any other enemy, would I have followed you to your booth, risking it to sit sort of catched behind a table? Would I have introduced myself, without any information from your side, but "Camarilla Ghouls"? I mean, I had as much reason to believe you, as you had to believe me...

Tristan took a breath, like always, it helped him to keep his temper in control, even if he was speaking in polite manner, he felt his nature.

And now I ask you again, because I still didn't get it. Why did you want to meet me?
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I'd rather lose myself in Passion than lose my Passion Jaques Mayol


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Oliver
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Dork
* * * * *
The ghoul was pleased that Mr. Gersdorff kept looking back at Mr. O'Rourke. Yes... that's it, keep those eyes on the sexy Gangrel.

Do you know this new guest?

Glancing back briefly at the curly haired new arrival, Oliver shook his head, clearly not interested in that. "No, Sir," he said politely but dismissively.

...what I don't understand, is your behaving anyway. Was it poor judgement or just fear, or what? After my first approach were you not able to read the signs? If I wanted to accuse you, do you think, I would have just whispered in your ear? Would I have left things, like I did?

A slow smile graced the ghoul's lips, but he went on listening, watching the Brujah casually, resting back in his chair and picking up his glass for another sip.

I don't know what you experienced in your life, really, but if I was Sabbat or any other enemy, would I have followed you to your booth, risking it to sit sort of catched behind a table? Would I have introduced myself, without any information from your side, but "Camarilla Ghouls"? I mean, I had as much reason to believe you, as you had to believe me...

"Protocol, Sir. I had orders. And those orders included looking like a pathetic dog... guess I did that right," he said, offering a slight smirk. "You were not to know anything about us. Nothing. You were only supposed to see two sad and scared looking ghouls, and talk. And you did. We left with your name and information. And yes, had you been Sabbat, and known who we were, you might have been deceitful, followed us and tried to capture us to search our minds, and do a number of other things to get to our Masters. It's how they work. Trust me, Sir, I know. Now, had you been an enemy, my Domina would have been able to protect our Prince better against you." He paused there to let the Kindred see the logic of his words. "I was under cover. Now I'm not. So now, you get the truth."

He placed his glass down and crossed his arms on his chest. "The Prince's Domain is well protected, Sir. But it takes a lot of work, caution and subterfuge to keep His Highness safe. And that's a part of my job," he ended with a smile, raising his eyebrows.

"Now, is there anything that you need to make your stay more comfortable, Sir? Do you have sufficient signatures for your application?" he asked, clearly aware of what had been asked of the Kindred. "I would like to help if I can. It's the least I can do for the kindness that you have shown."
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Reggie
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Little Sparrow
* * *
Getting settled in Reggie catches Oliver's greeting out of the corner of her eye. She responds with a little wave, and takes a moment to spy out the man he is sitting with and what they are both drinking... preparing in the back of her mind to bring them a refill if they want one.

Then that devil Irishman and his... face and stuff.

Reggie grins back at pool-table Lynx, then averts her eyes as her face takes on a cherry red. Ahem. She finds something to do for a few minutes that makes her extra busy, though a demure little smile stays on her painted lips.

Once done organizing the matching bottles by height she plants her elbows on the bar and rests her head on folded hands at the top of the arch. She looks back over at Lynx and giggles, flushing again and shrugging her shoulders.

Then the stranger comes into the bar, announced by the sound of his spurs and covered with dust from the trail. Reggie watches him approach her with doe-ish wide eyes...

Reggie replies to the newcomer hesitantly with a noticeable Yorkshire accent... "Um... I'd love to serve you a beer, Yank; but this is a private club?" The fresh faced ghoul looks over at Lynx to see if he wants to take this.
Edited by Reggie, Thursday, 2. October 2014, 20:26.
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Lynx
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Lord Torchwood
* * * * * *
Lynx had noticed the new figure arrive and from Reggie's take on the slim man it would seem he was not a member of the unbreathing elite that the club was destined to serve. The Irishman set down his pool cue and walked over to the bar, leaning on it and looking Michael over with a bright smile and sparkling green eyes. The thumb thick scar traveling down the left side of his face pulling his eyebrow and lip slightly to the side, giving him a grinning air.

"Well hello then good sir. Are ye a member of the Hospitality Club or a guest of one of our members?"

His mind danced as he tried to evaluate the slender figure. His eyes scanning his breathing, the flush of his skin, looking for any sign of sweat. How tan his complexion was. The usual visual signals that became so easy to pick up on.

He realized he was at a disadvantage given that his fangs flashed whenever he spoke, but he hoped the man would put him down as a twilight fan of something, and he was more than willing to play that part if he had to. The important part was keeping things quiet and calm while he figured out if this was a mortal, a ghoul or a vampire... and if it was a mortal figuring out how to let him leave alive.
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“if you consider a woman less pure after you've touched her maybe you should take a look at your hands”
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Tristan Gersdorff
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Passion-Junkie
* * * *
Leaning back again, grinning and his honeybrown eyes glittering, taking another sip from the blood, licking his lips then and deciding to empty the tankard before the stuff gets even colder, he hated cold blood, really.

Protocol... What else? Fav word of Ventrue... Indeed, the "pathetic dog" would bring an Oscar for you. And who tells me, now I really get the truth? And still, why?

Putting down the empty tankard and stretching out his legs, crossing the ankles and sitting at ease with a smug smile. Somekind the situation wasn't without a hilarious aspect.

I'm well aware a domain needs protection, or do you think Cologne was the island of blissful happiness? Just let me tell you this... if you are so concerned about protecting the Domain, then be more careful with using Disciplines. This time it only was me, who noticed it, but it could have been Sabbat... and if they had captured and searched you, it would have been your fault.
The other thing... with your ominous behaviour you gave me pretty much the feeling, you must be out of a kind of "inner circle", so you made yourself target more than you noticed, obviously. Maybe overthink this tactics for another time.


He still smiled and also his last sentence was meant completely serious, no mocking or sarcasm at all.

You made clear, you searched about me, so I guess, you know, my papers are already back to Blythe House and I'm just waiting for the Princes command for the presentation.
If I think about it, I am tempted to assume, this meeting is in fact just another security test... Maybe sometime, you may convince your honourable Domina, I'm not the enemy. As you can take out of my papers, I'm the Grand-Childe of the Primogen of Clan Brujah at Cologne and you bet, he wouldn't let just some scum go to another Domain


Tristan spoke these las words very serious, no doubt, he was a proud Brujah. A little hint for the Ventrue Ghoul not to put the mans Clan down in any possible way.
Edited by Tristan Gersdorff, Thursday, 2. October 2014, 21:33.
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I'd rather lose myself in Passion than lose my Passion Jaques Mayol


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Oliver
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* * * * *
"Protocol... Indeed, the "pathetic dog" would bring an Oscar for you. And who tells me, now I really get the truth? And still, why?"

Of course, the ghoul had felt like a pathetic dog that evening; but that was something personal that he didn't need to share with anyone - above all, anyone outside the family. He'd had orders, and had followed them. Like a good ghoul. That was the bottom line. "Well I can't prove my sincerity, Sir... and why? Because my Lady appreciates what you did for us, Sir. Your silence," he said simply.

"I'm well aware a domain needs protection, or do you think Cologne was the island of blissful happiness? Just let me tell you this... if you are so concerned about protecting the Domain, then be more careful with using Disciplines. This time it only was me, who noticed it, but it could have been Sabbat... and if they had captured and searched you, it would have been your fault. The other thing... with your ominous behaviour you gave me pretty much the feeling, you must be out of a kind of "inner circle", so you made yourself target more than you noticed, obviously. Maybe overthink this tactics for another time."

Mr. Gersdorff's smile was returned and Oliver nodded once. "Yes, indeed, Sir," he replied politely, deciding against informing the Kindred that his Mistress had been amused - of all things -, by his behaviour that night.

"You made clear, you searched about me, so I guess, you know, my papers are already back to Blythe House and I'm just waiting for the Princes command for the presentation. If I think about it, I am tempted to assume, this meeting is in fact just another security test... Maybe sometime, you may convince your honourable Domina, I'm not the enemy. As you can take out of my papers, I'm the Grand-Childe of the Primogen of Clan Brujah at Cologne and you bet, he wouldn't send just some scum to another Domain."

At that moment, Oliver's own smile vanished, replaced by a solemn expression; and he moved forward, his arms resting on the table. His serious eyes looked directly into the golden ones of his host and, when he spoke, it was in a flawless German. "No test, Sir. You have my word. I, myself, am from an Old Country. And yes, your line is a most honourable one, Mr. Gersdorff. And though I would never dare to speak for our Prince, my humble opinion is that you will be very well received indeed," he said, still very serious and with respect. "As for my Mistress, I am certain that she would be delighted to meet you. If that is your wish, I could perhaps arrange a meeting?" he asked, now the trace of a smile gracing his lips.
Edited by Oliver, Thursday, 2. October 2014, 21:36.
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Michael
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Michael Larson
* * *
"Um... I'd love to serve you a beer, Yank; but this is a private club?"

The last hints of surprise leave Michael's face at word this is a private club. That makes the whole bar-in-a-residential-house thing make so much more sense. "Oh, um, sorry then. I had no idea." Pulling the much crumpled paper out of his pocket, he checks it again. "This is," he says the Hospitality Club's street address, "though, right?"

He gives Lynx a smile when the scarred man joins them, a friendly one despite that he's just been told he's not supposed to be here.

"Well hello then good sir. Are ye a member of the Hospitality Club or a guest of one of our members?"

He shakes his head no to the question, smile going chagrin. Pushing both hands into his pockets, he shifts into a more innocent, harmless posture; if it's an act, it's a pretty good one, it looks quite natural.

"No, I sorry. I mean, I don't think--" His words come to a halt at the sight of Lynx's rather realistic looking fangs. He stands there a moment, staring, until his brain kicks in. With a little laugh, he gives he guy an approving smile, "Getting ready for Halloween early, huh? Those are pretty good!" He leans in a little, taking a closer look. "Are you a makeup professional or something? Special effects?"

Then, as if remembering that he's not really supposed to be here at all, he gives his head a little shake and returns to their previous topic. He glances around at those here again, checking what he can see of the male faces before his attention returns to Lynx. "Do you know someone named Allan Brown? I'm supposed to be meeting him. Here, I thought. Maybe he's a member?"

Michael is indeed breathing, though it's at a slow, steady pace -- no signs of nervousness at being in (apparently) the wrong place. His skin is quite tanned, his California days not long enough ago for it to start fading out yet. There's no more sweat or flush to his skin than one would expect of a relaxed mortal.

As he waits for Lynx's reply, he gives Reggie a quick, friendly smile, letting her know he hasn't forgotten about her.
Michael speaks with an American accent (west coast/northern California, if one is familiar enough with the US to place it). His thoughts.
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