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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: |
| New in the North (ended) | |
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| Topic Started: Sunday, 12. April 2015, 22:17 (856 Views) | |
| Noel de Gavrillac | Sunday, 12. April 2015, 22:17 Post #1 |
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Order without Domination
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So this was his new home… Malham Close, Friern Barnet, London N11... London... Noël walked down the road . The gentle “clack” of his rosewood cane gave away the slow pace of his steps. Dressed in a darkbrown cashmere jacket with auburn trims, pitchblack designer jeans and black buckled goth boots he strolled down the street. His long silverblond hair flowing over his shoulders and half of his back, softly blowing in the cool breeze. The Toreador wore a messenger bag with several cameras, as always. Listening to the faraway noises of the city. His cool blue eyes sucking in the impressions of the new environment. Tonight it would be mostly exploring… Always ready for every occasion of taking interesting pictures or scouting for models, food or anything else that caught his eye. He would reward Pierre for his pleasant choice. Maybe he would allow him to have his own apartment? No… that would bring too much complication. Maybe… hm… well, maybe he would agree to his Ghouls next request for whatever. Yes, good idea, he would keep that in mind. Also he would advise Pierre to keep one of these idiotic engineers of BT in their basement. Or better not? Not their fault they were British and not French. You just can’t expect perfection of these British, he had to consider this. But it was inacceptable to wait three days for a simple broadband internet connection… Nom de bleu! Let's have a look what places it had to hunt. Noël liked to walk through the nightly streets, just like in Paris the noises faded then, lights felt on the dark walks from the windows. Behind the windows plenty of life, plenty of blood... Some houses and views he took pictures of. Inhaling the air and listening to the sounds, trying to catch some whispers through the rare open windows. The Toreador wanted to become familiar with his new centre of unlife. The French had no idea how long he was walking by now, but he reached a large open green area and turned his steps into the park. Somewhere he read a sign saying “Alexandra Park”. Who might this Alexandra be who gave her name for a park? He didn't remember any Queen or princess with this name, but he didn't consider himself the expert for such. Sitting down on a bench and resting his slender right hand on the silverknob of his cane. The silverrings looking like rosetendrils entwining themselves around his fingers blinked in the dim light of a distant streetlamp. Another deep inhale. Noël liked spring. The smells of the fresh green and the first flowers reminded him to his youth. Madeleine making daisychains for her blonde curls... So long ago... And now? Sitting here in London because Paris became too cramped for him. Hopefully London gave him back a little of his freedom. Edited by Noel de Gavrillac, Tuesday, 28. April 2015, 22:19.
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![]() "The blood jet is poetry. There is no stopping it." Sylvia Plath english french russian thoughts | |
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| Professor Valerius | Monday, 13. April 2015, 10:42 Post #2 |
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Fledgling
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At the Moment the professor still had only one haven, in Enfield. So he knew Enfield better than the other borroughs that were Anarch area. He had started exploring the other boroughs now, too, but as he still lived in Enfield he still spent time here. Valerius took a stroll through the Alexandra park. There was someone sitting on a bench, at night, that was unusual. And the Person looked unusual, too. You didn´t really see young people with around here. So Valerius was curious. He himself was wearing black Jeans and a black leather jacket. The Professor approached the stranger and addressed him in a polite manner. "Good evening. You don´t look as if you are from here. Mind if I join you?" No, the man didn´t look like a local. Probably he was a tourist? Well, soon Valerius would hear if the stranger could speak English and if he had an accent. The professor had no discernable accent. |
![]() English German French Spanish Italian Greek Arabic Russian Percy´s voice, can only be heard by Valerius | |
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| Noel de Gavrillac | Monday, 13. April 2015, 14:18 Post #3 |
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Order without Domination
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Noël blinked two or three times when an undoubtedly pleasant voice pulled him from his thoughts. Slowly he turned his head with a slightly bewildered look in his glacier blue eyes. “You don’t look as if you are from here.” Quoi? How should an average local look? Like this late rocker? Ça ne fait rien… at least he was polite. I was told this is a free land, so sit down wherever you like. As long it’s not too close. Maybe he bumped unawares in a gay meetingpoint? So the dark one would be disappointed. His voice was deep and his speech was permeated by his French accent. He gestured with his left hand to the free space on the bench. After his polite answer his cool eyes went back into the dark. The pale lights gave strange shadows to the trees and bushes, he would return to the park sometime to take photos of this. Nice find indeed. Edited by Noel de Gavrillac, Monday, 13. April 2015, 14:18.
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![]() "The blood jet is poetry. There is no stopping it." Sylvia Plath english french russian thoughts | |
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| Professor Valerius | Tuesday, 14. April 2015, 21:26 Post #4 |
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Fledgling
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Valerius sat down on the bench, not too close to the other man. The professor was gay, but already for several decades there was only one man who interested him sexually...Percy. The professor never flirted with anybody, he wouldn´t even know how to do that, he had never done it. So there was certainly nothing flirtatious in his manner now. Even chatting to strangers wasn´t something that the professor normally did. But now that he didn´t have Percy to talk to every night...maybe that made the professor more sociable towards other people? Percy surely would mock him if he could watch Valerius now. That accent was undoubtedly French, so Valerius continued in French. His French was very fluent, with a bit of an accent. "France for sure is a wonderful country, all those castles for example...or are you from another French speaking Country? But maybe I better I shouldn´t be too curious, you might not be in the mood to talk." Percy liked all those castles even more, that´s why they had visited them together. Valerius didn´t have that typical paleness of normal vampires. The Frenchman hadn´t either, so Valerius didn´t suspect that he might be kindred. |
![]() English German French Spanish Italian Greek Arabic Russian Percy´s voice, can only be heard by Valerius | |
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| Noel de Gavrillac | Tuesday, 14. April 2015, 23:08 Post #5 |
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Order without Domination
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Still pondering on the shadows, debating with himself, if he should go and take these pictures right now. Then he heard something familiar. Noël rose a brow and a faint smile curved his lips, the late rocker spoke French? How pleasant, at least it gave a little hope there were some individuals speaking a civilized language. Yes, I am French. Most of my time I lived in Paris. And grew up in a castle... but this was not the dark ones concern. He remembered well the clammy nights in his bedroom in winter. Difficult to heat these high rooms and the thick walls. Why this guy tried to flatter him? Was France so wonderful? Really? So why he sat in a park in London? He knew this tactic to say “I shouldn't...” to make him say “oh feel free to...”, but this tactic didn't work on him, never did. The Toreador's eyes went back to the shadows, these beautiful shadows would make great backgrounds to his poetry... Thoughtful Noël looked over to the late rocker, his eyes measured the man for a second. Didn't they know to comb their hair in Great Britain? Where was the poetry of this one? No whisper, disappointing. Not his fault, not all had the whisper around them. At least he spoke French. Your French is splendid. The man deserved a little flattery too in return to his. |
![]() "The blood jet is poetry. There is no stopping it." Sylvia Plath english french russian thoughts | |
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| Professor Valerius | Friday, 17. April 2015, 12:37 Post #6 |
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Fledgling
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Somehow the Frenchman was a bit absentminded, it seemed, but Valerius was, too. "Paris..." Valerius said, and it sounded like a melancholic sigh, like longing for something lost, as he was reminded of Percy and the time they had spent together in Paris. Couldn´t Valerius not think of Percy even for an hour? Didn´t look like it. "I´d very much like to get lost in the Louvre again..." And the professor got lost in memories again. There was an almost palpable aura of sadness about him for that no Auspex was needed to notice it. He wasn´t aware of that himself. He had been the one who had mocked Percy a lot, but now indeed it surely would be Percy who would mock him, if he was here now, watching the professor´s clumsy attempts at making small talk. Well, usually it had been Percy who had done the talking if it had been necessary to approach strangers. The professor had been more interested in books and in artefacts than in people after all... But how nice it would be to be mocked by Percy now, to hear anything from him at all. One phonecall, a mail, but...nothing. So that was the result now. because Valerius had said he´ll embrace Percy in five years, and that five years was nothing. Five years would go by in a Flash. Well, it didn´t. If you were waiting for something you desperately longed for. Then time was your enemy. Like now. Why hadn´t Valerius realised that before? He shouldn´t have let Percy wait, but should have embraced him already now. Everything would be fine then, wouldn´t it? Percy would be grateful, and he would still be with him, here. For sure he would be. But Valerius had ignored Percy´s dearest wish, and so the Professor was on his own now. Without Percy... He had said he might talk to the Professor again in five years, and that this shouldn´t be a problem, as five years passed in flash. He didn´t deserve it any better, did he? No, he didn´t. It was all his fault. Valerius was "awakened" from of his self-flagellation by the Frenchman saying something to him. Splendid? What an old-fashioned word that was... His French was splendid? "Thank you. My French won´t get rusty hopefully, now that I don´t travel much any more...I used to do a lot of traveling. Hunting for extraordinary artefacts...and I used to be professor of archaeology in Oxford, those days are over, too..." Oxford, oh no, he shouldn´t have mentioned that City...where he had met Percy several decades ago. That terrible, cunning, yet wonderful cheater-student... "Do you like art and antiques?" |
![]() English German French Spanish Italian Greek Arabic Russian Percy´s voice, can only be heard by Valerius | |
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| Noel de Gavrillac | Friday, 17. April 2015, 14:09 Post #7 |
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Order without Domination
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"I´d very much like to get lost in the Louvre again..." A slight smile flickered over Noël’s lips. The Louvre, yes… full of beauty and so many Mortals even in the evening hours. Always an easy meal there. A smile at the right moment to the right person and the food was caught. Feeding at the Louvre had its own special kick… Hunting under the Princes nose… poaching the Vitae the Prince claimed as his… How can you get lost in the Louvre, you ‘ave these signs showing the way everyw… oh… that’s a metaphor, right? Noël looked a bit morose. He had to pay better attention to this. Metaphors often slipped him in English. Finally the dark one kept quiet, good. His relief didn’t last long. Obviously the man had an odd need to tell the story of his life to strangers in the park. Blablabla… travel, blablabla... hunting, blablabla… professor, blablabla… Oxford. Mon dieu, doesn’t this guy breath? He really should go and take pictures of these shadows under the trees, but most likely this “professor” would run after him to pour more of his life over him. Maybe he stopped, when Noël gave him some nice answers. How he hated this useless smalltalk! If it was with a future meal, he could stand it, but smalltalk with a simple Mortal was close to torture! Why don’t you travel anymore, if you like it? Is it a lack of money or are you sick? Noël scolded himself not to ask questions to the guy. This would make him talk even more. The Toreador shifted a little on the bench and stroke back a strand of his long blonde hair as the wind blew it in his serenely face. Noël looked at the dark one, his blank blue eyes completely emotionless. Yes I like art and I like certain antiques. And certain antiques he hated with all his heart. The old junk his father gathered for example… All this stolen things from other cultures to make him look scholarly. Truth was they didn’t mean a bean to his father, it was just property. The thought of his father sent a frosty glitter in his glacier-like eyes. |
![]() "The blood jet is poetry. There is no stopping it." Sylvia Plath english french russian thoughts | |
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| Professor Valerius | Tuesday, 21. April 2015, 20:03 Post #8 |
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Fledgling
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Getting lost in the Louvre, yes it was a metaphor, so Valerius nodded. "I´ve got duties, I need to be here permanently." So he couldn´t travel any more. But why did he still sit here and talk to a stranger? Was the professor really that desperate for company? He hated smalltalk. He could be very eloquent, but smalltalk was a pain in the arse. He had enough of that. And the guy didn´t seem to be the talkative sort anyway. So why didn´t Valerius simply walk away again. And speaking of duties...it was his duty to make patrols, he should get on with that. But...he might as well have a sip of blood before he left. The food was sitting right beside him. Some kindred took the trouble of flirting, but Valerius didn´t want to waste time with needless conversation usually. He mostly simply went into some dark quiet road and would drag somebody into a dark corner. In the park there was nobody else in sight, so he might was well do it here, now. Valerius threw himself at the stranger and held him tight. The Brujah was a lot stronger, so it was impossible to break free. He dug his fangs into the man´s throat and started drinking. But hell, this wasn´t human blood, it was vitae! The Professor spat the blood out that he had in his mouth. For sure he didn´t want to drink this and get a blood bond. "Who are you?! I haven´t seen you here before. You´re on Anarch territory." Valerius still held the other man in a tight grip. This couldn´t be Khoza, the voice was a lot different. Surely this also couldn´t be that Chris or however he was called. And even if it was him, it didn´t matter, he deserved a little fright. Edited by Professor Valerius, Wednesday, 22. April 2015, 19:19.
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![]() English German French Spanish Italian Greek Arabic Russian Percy´s voice, can only be heard by Valerius | |
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| Noel de Gavrillac | Friday, 24. April 2015, 21:38 Post #9 |
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Order without Domination
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Still pondering on the unloving memory of his father Noël was completely surprised by the sudden attack of the dark one. Before he could think of any defense he felt the hot pain of fangs in his flesh. His head felt back and the unwelcome ecstatic storm convulsed his undead body. Not more than a rough gargle fled his throat. As sudden the assault was, as sudden it was over and the the other Kindred yelled something at him, still holding the Toreador like a steel clasp. His beast tried to break free, but instead Noël focussed the wrath of this primal source within. [Presence 2: Dread Gaze] Throwing a vast surge of pure terror towards the assailant. Noël summoning the threatening image of hissing and flaming red eyes, bared, long ivory fangs in his artisic mind. Projecting it in the attacker's tormented thoughts. Making him feel the darkest fears and terrors the beast was able to transmit. Edited by Noel de Gavrillac, Friday, 24. April 2015, 21:54.
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![]() "The blood jet is poetry. There is no stopping it." Sylvia Plath english french russian thoughts | |
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| Professor Valerius | Saturday, 25. April 2015, 16:45 Post #10 |
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Fledgling
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That the stranger wasn´t a mortal but kindred had been a suprise, but what happened next was even more of a nasty surprise. Valerius wanted an answer, but he didn´t get one...instead there was a hiss...Valerius let go of the stranger, stumbled a few steps backwards and now saw a horrific grimace. That overwhelmed him, his beast wanted to flee, and the Professor gave in to that urge. He turned around and ran away. He stopped running after about five minutes. By now he felt ashamed about running away. What a disgrace for a Brujah to flee. He had experienced that sort of attack before. His Sire had done it to scare and to cow him. Valerius knew that it was in his blood, too, to learn that, but he hadn´t yet. He should. He had focused too much on getting strong. Maybe he should go back to the park and have another look? But by now the guy surely had already left. At least Valerius should report to the other Anarchs of the Network that he had encountered an unnkown kindred on Anarch territory. Then he would also have to admit that he had run away. Damn. But it was important to report it, he couldn´t simply behave as if nothing had happened. It might be an intruder of the Camarilla. |
![]() English German French Spanish Italian Greek Arabic Russian Percy´s voice, can only be heard by Valerius | |
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| Noel de Gavrillac | Tuesday, 28. April 2015, 22:18 Post #11 |
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Order without Domination
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Noël coughed and wrapped his slender fingers around the canes silverknob. Fighting back this hot pool of boiling blood, struggling for control and regain contenance. Cringing and coughing again. Leaning his front on his hands on the cane and groaning. Goddamn son of a bitch... His throat was aching, this beast had bitten him rough and murderous. Leaning back again and coughing one more time. Brushing his hair from his face and putting his clothes in order. Pulling out his smartphone and texting Pierre to come and fetch him. What a matching start in this uncivilized city... Finally he got up to walk towards the street to wait for his Ghoul. Contenance, Noël, contenance... |
![]() "The blood jet is poetry. There is no stopping it." Sylvia Plath english french russian thoughts | |
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