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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Operation Oven; Attn: Mr. Russo, Leslie, NPC?
Topic Started: Thursday, 18. June 2015, 19:17 (982 Views)
Iakov Reznik
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"Persona Non Grata"
* * * * * *
[avatar=http://www.rosemarysheel.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/07/romania_gypsy_man_fedora_portrait_smug.jpg]

((Continues From Here))
Brass Plaque
 
Piscina SherwoodWishmongerConference Room 2B


He had gotten there early, and he was staring at the plaque, reading it over and over to himself before reaching up a hand, and polishing away the fine dust that had collected upon the surface.

Wishmonger

The ex-Scourge didn't look himself, and this was because it was quite wise for him to do so. The illusion of the two eyed, somewhat heavy set Rom clung to his body, providing protection the Ravnos very much needed.

The staff downstairs had seemed to only somewhat regard his presence, in fact, they wer rather cool towards him, especially after explaining that he was a friend of their in-house Wishmonger.

Thinking the Rom gentleman was a client of Piscina's, they informed him that she had been absent for some time. Iakov nodded in understanding, faighing that this was unfortunate news, and then then ordered a drink while the man told him the rules of the establishment.


Iakov mentioned that he had a guest joining him shortly, and that they would need somewhere private to talk it over. He took a hundred pound note and pressed it into the bartenders palm, and in turn, was given leave to utilize 2B to discuss his business. Iakov also requested that he send the Italian upstairs once he arrived.

Yet, now upstairs in the quiet hall, he had a moment away from the patrons to reflect on his situation. He was meeting a Camarilla Ventrue on (what he considered) his own neutral turf. He was quite amazed that he had managed to coerce him into entering Anarch territory.
Either Mr. Russo was gullible, or he had something else in mind. Either way, Iakov was running out of options, and time was running short.

After polishing his sire's nameplate on the door, he turned the knob and opened it. He half expected Sherwood to have left some semblance of her stay in the office, but found that it was empty of her influence. All that remained were a few boxes in an otherwise barren room.

Is this a joke?

He had a good mind to go back downstairs and request a different conference room then, but, feeling as though he were already pressing his luck with the ineffectual staff, he frowned, situated the boxes beside one another, and sat upon one. It would do, he supposed.

Meanwhile, he sat in wait, and glanced impatiently at his watch, it was nearly time for Russo's arrival. Iakov wondered, if the man was as punctual as other Ventrue he had met in this wretched city.

Little did he know, that Hospitality under management of the new Baron, was anything but hospitable.

ooc:
Edited by Iakov Reznik, Friday, 19. June 2015, 20:10.
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Clarice Harris
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Sexually abused by a Jew
* * * * *
Continued from Stranger Danger and I'll teach you what does "Hospitality" mean
Leslie
 
[...] suspicious activity [...] in or around Hospitality Club. Keep an eye open [...] Take careful action when needed [...]

NOT FUCKING AGAIN!
And what THX? That film?


It felt like it happened just a day or two ago. Not the film, she has seen it ages ago. Carter and her ghoul being escorted to that cursed Hospitality straight out of their own troubles. First fucking Americans, like the little spy, Dawson and Sam H. Then some "Skuld"...Skald maybe. Then Valerian and Steve French. Then Carter and Ventrue friends. And in the meantime gypsy sightings all over the North that oddly coincided with the Dream's bankruptcy. Enough is enough, it was the time they all finally learn that this land now belongs to organized bunch of angry people who had about enough of everyone's nonsense

The smartphone with custom software started flashing and ringing like a civil defense siren. A coldblood spotted at Hospitality's entrance. Without waiting any longer, Clarice started the engine of her Ford Transit and rushed straight to the eastern border of Enfield. Yuri would deal with eventual fines, it was a really urgent situation after all. She parked the truck in parallel alley and sneaked into the famous convenience store through the back door, taking the remote controller with her. Whoever just entered the club... It couldn't be any Anarch, or at least not one with half a brain. Cammie was highly unlikely, they wouldn't hesitate to brag about who they are and who allegedly protects their cold, dead asses. No independent vampire with the slightest bit of self-respect would show up in this barren ground, far withdrawn from the actual London. Maybe there were more aspects of this whole mess to be pondered, but so it happened that Clarice was quite radical. And so without thinking any longer, she slid the switch and watched


Meanwhile inside Hospitality...

Nobody has seen it coming. The first sign was just subtle smell of burnt plastic and steel wool that filled the air. Before anyone could react properly, flames emerged around the corners and rapidly engulfed the carpets, curtains and other textiles. Nobody could tell how much time elapsed until the sprinkles have blown the small flames into raging inferno that filled the building in its entirety. There was no way out through the windows and whoever owned this place took good care of it. The only escape route was the main entrance and nobody could guarantee that the circuitry behind the electromagnet will work properly

Yellow and orange flames blasted through all the windows, scattering the glass across the street. Nobody was leaving the building just yet, at least not through the front door. Ecstatic feeling of satisfaction overwhelmed Clarice's mind, breaking her cover. The poor guy behind the counter didn't even notice how she appeared out of thin air, his mind was now fully absorbed by Enfield's largest bonfire. For Clarice it was the time of celebration; she grabbed a small bottle of orangeade and placed it in front of him, throwing some small change along. If she was actually paying for something, she was visibly in good mood. But he didn't react, not until she slapped him out of the initial shock

-I-I... Just- call 112
-Sit you butt down and calm

Any normal, gullible person would think that Clarice is going to use her phone with good intentions. On a subconscious level, she knew that it's better to let people think that way. Just to make sure he's not going to do anything stupid, she calmed his mind [Dementation: Passion]. Proper message was sent to parties involved:
Message to Ilya and Leslie
 
Operation Oven successfully launched
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Iakov Reznik
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"Persona Non Grata"
* * * * * *
The whole idea was born of desperation. Aside from hiding in his Vardo and keeping in hiding, or flat out fleeing London, Iakov was left little option but to ask for inside help in one form or another.

The Ravnos had much on his mind. What would he say to Mr. Russo? How would he utilize the boon he had been granted? Could he trust the gadjo? Would he even show up? Would he betray him?

Maybe telling him the meeting place flat out was a bad idea. It's too late now. He'll either show up or not.

He looked at his watch and frowned. It was three minuets till. He got up to pace the room in a feeble attempt to settle his restless nerves. Upon reaching the door, he turned on his heel, and froze on the spot. There was something in the hall making noise beyond the door. Rustling? It sounded like. No. Crinkling paper? He turned slowly to the door, his face hard with suspicion.

There was an acrid smell of chemicals. It grew stronger, and then he could hear the screams of people downstairs. He backed away from the door, his eye widening in fear as smoke began to creep from the space between the door and the carpet.

FIRE

The beast gripped his mind, barraging him with fear as he took hold of the door handle, and opened the door into the hallway. The place was thick with smoke, and it quickly poured into the room and stung his vision. Parts of the wall were already being consumed by fire, frightening him into a run. He stumbled down the hallway towards the stairs. There was more screaming, and as the sprinklers turned on, the flames grew more intense around him.

Through the smoke and blazing inferno, he could see a few more people make a hasty retreat through the front entrance. He covered his head with his arms, only to see that flames had begun to consume his sleeves.

RUN!!!!

He managed to shrug off and throw the garment aside, his thick skin only barely protecting him from the heat of the flames surrounding him. It was then as he rushed forwards towards that doorway, that he lost himself in the terrible ideation that this very well may be his end.

The beast had taken him.
[avatar=http://www.rosemarysheel.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/07/romania_gypsy_man_fedora_portrait_smug.jpg]
Edited by Iakov Reznik, Tuesday, 7. July 2015, 03:50.
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Leslie
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Flemish... furry... flirty... feline! (YODO) Perfection Purrs!
* * * * * * *
Comes from here...

Meanwhile on their way to the meeting...


While she was waiting for Marcus to pick her up she checked her phone and saw the message from Clarice... or was it Chris? Same account but different sign name at the end of messages. It was getting confusing. Maybe lovers? Siblings? One person? Who knew? In the world of shadows, darkness and monsters it was hard to tell. The content of the message was even more confusing. What was that all about?

Message@Chris
 
Operation Oven? WTF is that? New security system? I had no idea about that. Hope everything is safe over there!


The car from Marcus arrived and she got in while adjusting her clothes. She was wearing a pair of shiny black heels, a pair of black trousers, a white blouse and a black bolero jacket above it. Her hair was up in a pony tail and her lips soft pink. Casual with a hint of business making her look a bit older and completely different than when they first met.

With a greeting nod she looked at Marcus and gave his driver, Mr. Cornwall, directions. Along the way she talked a bit about the Anarchs.

"Our grounds mean a lot to us mister Russo. It is our home so I do hope you will respect it like it was your own. While most might not be as fancy as your Ventrue taste might like it to us it is all we have and all we need. These nights we all need a home. How long have you been in London? If I may ask."

Her head turned aside to watch him with a curious spark. Along the way and going deeper into the Anarch turf a police car passed them by and some sirenes could be heard. She didn't really pay attention to them. At night there was always something going on. Her hands lay lazzily upon her lap while she gave the driver directions every now and then. They were going through Clarice her grounds before they could reach Hospitality Club on Leslie's turf. Of course she wasn't giving those details to Marcus.

"Want to share something more about this friend of yours we are about to meet?" Yes. We. Leslie was going to make sure she would have something to keep a secret. An extra safety measure so to say. This boon still needed to be handed, delivered or confirmed. Or however these Capes did it. She couldn't exactly ask him. That would look rather stupid, wouldn't it? It seemed Leslie was a little less confident than she had sounded on the phone. However she did appear calm in composure and sat next to the Ventrue with pride. Compared to most parts of the Camland, the Anarchs didn't seem to have a lot but never judge a book on its cover. They had many hidden gems which could aid them in whatever they needed and that was more important than some hollow shell that looked pretty on the outisde but had nothing much to offer.
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Elagabalus
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Your Own Personal Jesus

Just one more helping of brandy and vital fluid first.. This had to be done.

He was already nervous about going into Anarch territory. He was assuming that once he arrived to the Hospitality Club, he would have to mingle and be polite to the group of rabble that also chose to occupy the place that evening. Most of his nervousness came from being in a new Domain. Who knows how these Anarchs behaved in London. If he was going to be mingling with the filth of London, it's best to have his beast far from the surface. A gentleman always keeps his beast in check. He was certain that he wouldn't be ordering any beverages at the club so he best get his fill now while at the Clermont Club. He didn't trust that Hospitality Club. He didn't trust the land it was on or the dirt like sect that walked it's grounds. He wouldn't risk becoming hungry while he was there. It was for his own safety.

The car was rented. A 2015 black Cadillac with all the bells and whistles. Mr Cornwall knew it was ridiculous to spend the extra money on the updated luxuries, but he knew Marcus preferred the appearance of luxury when entertaining guests for the evening.

Marcus sat in the back of the car behind the passenger seat. Like a kid with a new toy, he sat in the backseat pressing the buttons and exploring the gadgets of the vehicle. The radio blared from the speakers a few times and it startled him before Marcus realized he could control the radio from the back seat. He opened and closed the cup holders and played with the automatic locks and windows in the car. The technology fascinated him. The noises and Marcus' random movements in the backseat didn't bother Mr Cornwall. The ghoul wouldn't say anything even if it did bother him.

Leslie sent him the address where he could expect to meet with her and once they were on the correct street, Marcus lit himself a cigarette and rolled the window down slightly.

He chose to wear something a little less conspicuous to the Hospitality Club. Wearing one of his tailored suits could possibly be eye catching and he didn't want that. His choice of clothing that night was more like an attempt to blend in as an everyday Ventrue and not the type of Ventrue that had strong ties among the Camarilla; not the vain uppity type that he actually was.

When Leslie entered the vehicle and sat next to him he scanned her apparel also. It was a quick comparison that just had to be done. He approved of the attire she was wearing. More mature than sneakers and a pull over sweatshirt he concluded. Even when she spoke to him, her choice of clothes demanded that he take her more seriously than he had the night he first met with her in Soho. It pleased him. He even went so far as to think that Miss Leslie went through all the trouble of looking more refined just to please him.

"It's only been some months now. Not far from a year since when I first came I think." he scratched his head trying to think if that statement was correct. "On the exact night of my arrival I met with my clan's Primogen and was explained the lay of the lands. The Grand Harpy was also kind enough to shed more light on that subject for me. I think it's safe to assume that by you accompanying me to this meeting I mean no disrespect to the areas your sect calls home. It's why you were notified. I needed safe passage and so I only felt obliged to notify. he gave a quick nod and a smile. "Thank you for assisting me, Miss Leslie."

He took a drag of his cigarette after the long winded reply. He felt the minor boon he now owed her was thanks enough, but still he chose to verbally thank her. It just seemed more classy.

A police car passed and Marcus shook his head in shame. He already didn't like the area he was in and the police car just made it worse. He felt like he was venturing into a crime-ridden area and he stared out the window looking disgusted at the buildings, people, and the street lights that passed by his window. He snapped his face back at Leslie when she asked for more details about the meeting.

"Of course, Miss Leslie" he paused. "The man's name is Svoboda. Mr Svoboda. He was a guest at the Clermont Club some time ago. It was there at the club that the man proved to be of some use and I'm hoping tonight we will be able to discuss some of those uses even further."

Marcus flicked the remainder of his cigarette out the window just as the car turned the corner and then came to a halt. A single car transporting a young couple of lovers and a single police car in front of them blocked any further movement of the black Cadillac. The police were trying to control the area no doubt as they waited on the arrival of local fire departments. Marcus saw the uncontrollable flames and pressed his back into the seat, attempting to distance himself from the flames even more.

"Why are we stopped here!? Take a different route!" Marcus said to Mr Cornwall sounding panicked in the backseat. His terrified eyes were locked on the burning building like it was going to start running at him like a grotesque boogeyman and touch him with the flames that roared from the windows.

"The GPS says this is our destination, Mr Russo. That building right there actually." the ghoul said pointing his finger at the building.

Without giving any reply to the ghoul, Marcus quickly snapped his face to the side looking directly at Leslie. His brows furrowed, giving Leslie quite the angry look from Marcus. He didn't feel the need to ask her anything but he wanted her to give him answers to everything. His angry gaze at Leslie demanded that she give him those answers immediately. Why was that building on fire? Why was it on fire that night specifically? Why was he even in the vicinity of such danger?

Mr Svoboda or Leslie. One of the two had some explaining to do.
Edited by Elagabalus, Monday, 6. July 2015, 07:44.
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English - Italian - Thoughts - Sadistic thoughts
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Iakov Reznik
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"Persona Non Grata"
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Dice Roll and OOC notes:


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The automatic pilot had taken control of the wheel, and steered the vessel towards what its primitive mind considered safety. There, as it thrashed onward, one of the drunken patrons had run into him on his way towards the same destination.

The monsters hands found the flailing prey, and immediately began to tear into its throat. Anything that was in its way of escape would be destroyed, and this hapless boozer was no exception. Fangs gnawed into gristly flesh, head swiveling violently and pulling backwards to create a gushing wound. It sprayed the monster in the mouth and face, staining his throat and chest as the victims heart failed, and his body fell to the smoldering floor.

It advanced, quicker now, the brief taste of sustenance fortifying its long strides as it came upon another screaming patron. They bashed headlong into one another, blinded by smoke, and with his bare hands the one eyed brute bludgeoned at the howling human. With all its strength it flung the attacker aside after viciously mangling it, and then, upon smelling the cool air emanating from the exit, it made haste and rushed to the exit, its hair catching on fire as it lunged forwards past a conflagration that had once been known as the bar.

There were humans past out at the front door, having lacked oxygen and crumpled attempting to open the sealed entrance. Fire had eaten the wooden veneer off of the steel doorway. The intense heat may have affected the circuitry of the device that had held it sealed shut. Or, perhaps, something had happened from the outside to cut the power to the building, and so when the monster had thrown himself at it, he managed to pry it open, and fled outside.

***

It ran directly into someone in uniform who was in the act of prying the door open. The individual was on fire, and half clothed. It screamed at the top of its lungs as it reached the sidewalk and stumbled into the gutter. It collapsed in front of a police vehicle as two officers followed suit. One blasted the individual with a fire extinguisher while the other threw a blanket over him, and held him down to the ground to keep him from thrashing.

Once put out and uncovered, the burnt man laid still, and didn't seem to be moving.

[avatar=http://img10.deviantart.net/c866/i/2012/269/0/8/freddy_krueger_by_dinkens-d5fxssu.jpg]
Edited by Iakov Reznik, Thursday, 9. July 2015, 23:56.
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Clarice Harris
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Sexually abused by a Jew
* * * * *
The inferno was truly stunning. Instinctively Clarice moved deeper and deeper into the store, now lurking behind a shelf, only daring to poke half of her face, eyeing the blazing glory. Then the sirens sounded from afar. Maybe firefighters and paramedics were not anything to worry about, but police sure would follow. And every criminal knew that the blues are among their worst enemies. Blues... No, these days they were black and white chequer. Bloody government changing everything, so there is no way to call things by their proper names

The police cars and fire engines filled the narrow street, effectively obscuring the sight. Now was good time to leave the site, her job was done anyway. No vampire could survive it, no way. Unless it was some elder, straight out of legends. But would an elder get caught so easily? No, no... Else they sure wouldn't live to their age

She didn't return to her car. In case of any road check, she'd be fucked big time. Instead the tracksuit-wearing girl strolled down the alley, concealing her presence from curious minds. It called for a celebration, she could use some of the magical booze produced by that weird Mason dude. His cave was only a few hours of walk down south from here. Too bad... For now the only option would be checking up with the Network, which she did. A new message, most likely sent right after ignition. New security? To think about it... More or less, yes. The well-being of fellow and not-so-fellow Anarchs alike was secured on that night. One down, countless others to go

Network message to Leslie
 
You could say that. How are you liking it? It's just like 70 years ago!

The phone slipped back into nylon pocket. If only Clarice understood that the others will struggle to comprehend her motives... But she didn't care and she would leave them clueless for the remainder of the night. They should simply learn to enjoy it while it lasts, just like she did
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Tsar Ilya the First
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Claiming Tsar
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The beeping sound made Ilya stop where he was. He turned off the machine, left it on the table, removed the blood soaked rubber gloves, the welding visor, and reached for his phone. If the message surprised him in any way, his face didn't betray that. The stump of a man bleeding in front of him obviously missed that details, as his eyes were not in his face anymore, but if he would have seen him, he would have thought that the message had no meaning or transcendence. Ilya replied before resuming his work on the man.

NETWORK TEXT TO CLARICE
 
Good. Creating cover up for the sheep. Stay away from the heat.

For a split second, he shuddered imagining the flames engulfing the building. Then he put back on his gloves and his mask, and grabbed his sanding machine, ready to make the man's stumps smooth as silk.
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Leslie
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Flemish... furry... flirty... feline! (YODO) Perfection Purrs!
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"Safe passage is important on both our sides because of the truce. I respect that a lot and I find importance in such contracts." Her chocolate brown orbs watched him carefully with a sparkle. He was a strong Ventrue. She could sense it in how he spoke but in all honesty she disliked his blood very much. They had only been trouble for her. Like Blücher who tried seeking entrance to her mind or had even commanded her things. It made her shiver just at the moment the smoke of the cigarette reached her nose which wriggled in disgust. Smoking was so stupid and even more so as Kindred. Something that killed at the lips of something that was already dead and deadlier than the actual cigarette.

The scents also clouded her nostrils and made her stop her breathing. She was so used to breath when humans were around she had her chest heave up and down when she had been waiting for Marcus to arrive. She had noticed his looks, the shake of his head but she didn't care really. This were her grounds with sirens on top of it. A small grin played on her lips but disappeared when he mentioned the name. So much controversy going on about that man but again Leslie didn't care. She probably should but she didn't at the time because she needed a clear mind to keep all the information of this night in mind.

Arriving at the scene...


When they stopped she was startled by Marcus his sudden dominant change in behaviour but when she looked outside the window her eyes widened and she loudly cursed in her native Dutch tongue. " Turn around! NOW!" The flames that licked around the building, the scent, the muffled screams and the silence in between... it was all too much for the young one to take in. A few blood tears rolled down her cheeks when memories of her own home destroyed her mind. One of those last nights she had been alive she had witnessed her home burn down with her family still inside. A slow shudder spread through and she looked at Marcus in a mixture of pure terror and anger.

"We need to leave here now. I promised to keep you safe and you will be safe." Her voice was forced to stay calm even though it was trembling with slight fear. She rubbed the crimson tears from her face and looked outside again while she saw someone stumbling out. She pulled her eyes away because she didn't want to see such a thing. "Take the second left and the first left again to then go right by the third street. I'll give you directions again from there."

Her hand shot to the wrist of the Ventrue where she held it firmly and let a cold finger caress the spot where a pulse should have been. "My dear mister Russo if you had any hand in this you'll owe me more than a minor boon. However I trust you to be an honourable man and do not believe this is something you were involved in. Make sure I do not have to prove myself I like to keep the business relations with you going." She pulled her hand back and grabbed her phone. "I need to make some arrangements to contain this sad situation."

While typing she gave more directions to get back from where they had picked her up. But the route was completely different this time.

Network message@Chris
 
Where are you? Are you safe? Liking this? Are you cray cray? This is a disaster! I'm taking my guest to safety. Worst possible timing EVER!


OOC: the definition of "cray"
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Tsar Ilya the First
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Claiming Tsar
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He took a step back and contemplated his creation. A smooth bloodied torso, free of its skin, and of things such as eyes, teeth, lips, or tongue. The thing was hanging from the ceiling, slowly dripping bits of itself on the floor. Above it, the canister poured a drop of a corrosive substance every twenty seconds. He gave the thing another sip of his own vitae, somehow wishing it would be still alive when he came back home, but knowing that it was not a likely possibility.

He walked through the shower very quickly, and jumped inside a new adidas red track suit. He put on his blue baseball cap, and his shades. In less than three minutes he was in his car, speeding towards his worst nightmare... The fire. If his estimations were accurate, the systems put in place by the flesh machines would have made the area safe by now, but it was impossible to be sure. Seven minutes more, and he was there, barely two hundred meters away from the flames, with his fight or flight instinct turning his guts into the imposing wings of cowardice. However, the danger was too far away to make his eyes turn the world red for him... Just some uncomfortable warning signs.

Upon leaving the car, he immediately found what he was looking for: a hunched man in a charred shirt, stumbling away from the spot of the catastrophe. Ilya walked towards him, grabbed him by the shoulder, and forced his gaze on him.

[DOMINATE: THE FORGETFUL MIND] "You saw what happened. A man jumped out of a shadow. It was unreal. He was large, pale, with jet black hair. He grabbed a girl, and bit her neck. He had fangs like a tiger. You saw him drinking her blood. Fingers of solid darkness twirled around him. She fell to the floor. You knew she was dead. He set the place on fire, and screamed this:

Camden will be avenged.

Then he jumped straight into a wall, one that was in the shadows, and disappeared."


Nearly done. Just one extra touch...

[DOMINATE: MESMERIZE] "You need to let people know what happened here. But the police will think you are crazy... Contact the press. Write a blog. Seek those who know what you know, find the answers, and let the world learn the truth."

The work was done. Less than two minutes. He let the confused man stumble away, and walked towards the fiery nightmare. On his way, he grabbed three more survivors, repeating the same process with them, changing small details in their stories, planting the shadow of the misleading truth in their minds.

It was enough. He couldn't get any closer. However, something caught his attention. A paramedic was pushing a stretcher with a body in it towards an ambulance. From the distance, Ilya could appreciate that the burning marks were strange, ashen, unnatural. There was no puss suppurating, or any of the repulsive fluids that mortals used to excrete from their wounds when the were burned. This was burned dry, like wood. The patient was obviously no flesh machine. That was one of his kind. It was impossible to recognise him, and he was obviously not conscious. He realised that he needed to takevadvantage of the situation, and react fast. He approached the ambulance at a very brisk pace. The mortal had already secured the body of the vampire in the back, and hewas walking around the vehicle. He intercepted him.

One stare, a short spoken sentence, and the paramedic was already boarding the ambulance. Ilya made a quick manuever with his hands through the passenger window, and in a matter of seconds, the paramedic was driving south as fast as he could. Sitting beside him, the body of another paramedic, lying there with his neck broken. The driver only knew that he needed to leave that ambulance in the industrial area of Hackney Wick, and then walk away as fast as possible.

Whoever was that burned fucker, he would be bait for any angry sabbat upon arrival. As he walked away fom the heat, towards his car, Ilya knew that his improvised manuever would have an effect. He was, though, really curious about what was going to be that effect.
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Keeping his angry gaze at Leslie, he watched her shout directives at Mr Cornwall then he looked back at the fire. According to the time, his conversation with Mr Svoboda would have just began to take off. The cops seemed to have just arrived and there was no ambulances or firetrucks yet to assist with the scene. It was obvious that this fire was started recently. He looked back at Leslie and noticed her crying then. She spoke and to him and wiped her face.

"Why are you crying?" he asked in an angry tone. Her tears confused him. What was so saddening to her about this situation? Did she have a plan in this? Was she crying because she failed at a given opportunity to burn a Ventrue Primogen on their turf? Perhaps cover it up as some sort of accident due to the truce?

The Hospitality club was supposed to be safe grounds according to Mr Svoboda. And where was he now? Off in the distance somewhere enjoying the show maybe? Maybe he assumed correctly about the Ventrue from Rome and assumed he would be arriving just on time if not earlier to their meeting. What was his motive? He had no way of contacting Mr Svoboda, thus had to wait to be contacted. That is, if Mr Svoboda chose to contact him again.

His paranoid thoughts were interrupted by the screams of a man bursting from the fire. This seemed more interesting at the time. The Cadillac rolled in reverse and Marcus raised up from his seat to keep watching the burning man scene out the front windshield. The car reversed back further and Marcus watched the man be extinguished and then covered. He then averted his gaze out his own window trying to see as much of that scene as he could before Mr Cornwall made his way from the scene and followed Leslie's directions.

He finally looked back at Leslie when she began talking to him again.

"Is that a fact?" he said to her as she pulled out her phone. "Miss Leslie I can assure you I had no hand in that matter." he still looked at her as if she was the one who possibly had a role in the fire. "Let me share something with you, if I may. Since our last meet in Soho, there has been some changes within the hierarchy. I am a Camarilla Primogen, Miss Leslie. Boons be damned. If it comes to light that you or any of your Anarch brethren played a hand in this, and you were with prior knowledge, do you know what this would do to your reputation? Within my clan and within the Camarilla? he paused assuming that she knew very well what that could mean. "It could easily be said that that fire was an attempt on my own life." he looked out his window feeling relieved that he didn't arrive early to that meeting.

"Miss Leslie, I want to make it very clear that I've had enough excitement for one evening." he said as he continued looking out his window. "Would you mind telling me where we're headed now?" he then turned back to face her as Mr Cornwall continued to follow her instructions.
Edited by Elagabalus, Thursday, 9. July 2015, 09:42.
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The intense heat from the inferno pushed the officers away from the building. They grabbed whom they could as the flames shattered the glass and poured out of the windows like a blast furnace. By the time the paramedics had arrived with the fire department, it was all they could do to tend to any survivors, cut the gas line to the place, and pour as much water and fire retardant into the brick and mortar structure as humanly possible.

The unmoving burn victim was among the first to be loaded up and carted off into one of the awaiting emergency vehicles. There was a crowd beginning to form around the place. People were getting out of their cars to witness the blaze. Streets were getting closed off, and traffic was redirected as an ambulance pulled abruptly away from the scene.

In his haste to depart the scene, the man at the wheel had entirely forgotten to turn on his siren, though the lights were still on and spinning, casting their blue light into the darkness as it raced along. Several attempts on the radio were made out to the driver from headquarters, but overwhelmed with the urgency to get to the destination that had been implanted in his mind, he never once lifted the talk box to inform headquarters.

His deceased partner continued to slowly sink into a crumpled heap in the passengers seat. A few quick stops and fast turns and the man had slumped forwards onto the glove compartment. Soon, he was out of sight of anyone, having flopped onto his side due to having no chance to engage his seat-belt prior to having his spinal column snapped like a dry twig.

The man drove solo, speeding off for about half an hour over surface streets and freeways, and in that time, the dead man began to come to his senses.

((Continues Here))
[avatar=http://img10.deviantart.net/c866/i/2012/269/0/8/freddy_krueger_by_dinkens-d5fxssu.jpg]
Edited by Iakov Reznik, Thursday, 9. July 2015, 23:57.
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The car was safe. The car was safe. It was safe inside the car. She hated fire! Hated! It was destructive to her mind and her emotions but she remained silent except for the strange loud breathing. In and out.... in and out... in and out. Weird how such old habits could still be a soothing source that spread calmness through the mind.

"Why are you crying?"

Came the angry snap which made her literally jump in her seat. Her head slowly tilted aside while she regarded him with a dangerous glare. It was obvious that behind the sweet facade of the girl something was lurking one rather didn't encounter. Her composure became less tense and she leaned forward with her nose nearly against his while she wriggled it to get his scent in her mind. Her voice was surprisingly cold when she whispered to him.

"That was my home. I practically lived there..." Well maybe not all the time but it sure was a place that held memories. This was the Tripper all over again and it made her heart cringe in despair when she realised that everything and everyone she had ever loved or cared for ended up in flames. It seemed to be a curse that followed her from when she was alive. "... so you see this feels very personal to me." The whisper ended in a near hissing sound while she settled back in her seat and watched the driver who was probably keeping a close eye on her because of her proximity to his master. She gave the driver a sweet smile in the rear view mirror and listened to what else Russo had to say. When he finished she couldn't help but to smirk.

"Upon your life? Are you kidding me? Why, for the love of darkness, would we burn down one of our own buildings to get to you? That was one of our strong points so what you have witnessed tonight was a bad omen. I'm certain it wasn't anyone from my side and you claim neither of your side of the fence. The options lessen to what it could have been and I don't like those answers to my questions." A growl was rumbling in the back of her throat like an ominous thunder.

"I know what you are mister Russo. You don't scare nor impress me with your title. You're not the first Primogen I've met." She answered with careful wit. At times it was such an advantage to have been recognised by the Camarilla. It meant she received plenty of updates upon what's what and who's who. "I do my research, I keep up with the fashion. Let me tell you something mister Russo. What you see is not what you get. Just like you I show what I want you to see. It's natural and logical and I don't think I need to explain that but..." she raised her hands and in matter of seconds they turned into boney razor-sharp claws(*) which she held out in front of her and watched them with a dreamy spark in her eyes.

"If I wanted you dead, we wouldn't be having this conversation and you would be dust already. The human..." she nodded with her head towards the driver. "... would be disposed off as well. Consider the fact that we are still talking a gift and token of my care and trust in you." With a bit of focus her claws morphed back in her hands and she sighed.

"We're going back to the spot where you picked me up. It's safe there. You return to wherever you want and so do I." she gave him a business card from Queen Bee Enterprise which held one of her numbers and the website with all the business information. "Don't be a stranger. If tonight has proven anything it's that I keep my word. You are safe just like I promised and this should not stand in the way of future business."

If there was something she had learnt from dealing with business, contracts and other vampires who yearned for power and money then it was that even in times of crisis the show must go on, the deal must be made. A few more directions and they would be nearly there.

*Protean 2: Feral Claws

OOC
Edited by Leslie, Monday, 20. July 2015, 11:05.
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"Upon your life? Are you kidding me?.."

He snapped his face back into her direction giving her a terribly confused look. It wouldn't be surprising if the look came off as angry more than if came off as confused. Just what exactly did he say that deserved such a rebuttal? He didn't hold the Anarchs to any high moral standards and thought it to be quite fitting of an Anarch to burn buildings down, even on their own turf. They didn't care. They were the unruly class of Kindred society. It very well could have been an attempt on his life. Marcus was already paranoid about going into the area, and he was always nervous outside of his own comfort zone.

Leslie's claws were drawn and Marcus looked at them then back at the girl's face as a flinched back some. Smugness and disgust was his facial expression then. He looked at Miss Leslie as if saying '..And just what are you going to do with those?..' He knew the claws were dangerous and he wouldn't dare speak up about his disgust at seeing them. In the closed surroundings of the rented Cadillac, the Gangrel was to close to risk provoking it. Instead, he reserved himself and gave a glance at Mr Cornwall when she referred to him. When he looked back at her he was angry again. The absolute nerve of this Anarch to threaten him or the ghoul who assisted in his survival. He bit his bottom lip to keep from speaking at that moment.

He took her card but he didn't look at it. He held in his hand as he took it back to his lap and he continued to stare at Leslie. He was halfway wondering if she was going to try and get physical with him and he kept his eyes on her as if he was expecting her to do so.

The car came upon the street where they picked Leslie up, but it wasn't at the same exact location where she got in the car. Picking up from where Leslie left off, Marcus finally spoke up.

"Yes, let's hope not, Miss Leslie. He calmly raised his voice to the driver as he continued to look at Leslie. "This is fine here, Mr Cornwall." The ghoul pulled over to the curb and lifted himself from the driver seat to open the rear passenger door for Miss Leslie. Marcus spoke again once she was out of the car.

"Until next time then. I hope you enjoy the remainder of your evening, Miss Leslie." he said rather dryly. He was ready to leave. This night was terrible. Marcus sat back in his seat and faced the driver windshield as Mr Cornwall closed the door. The ghoul would give a nod to excuse himself from Miss Leslie then got back into the car and drove off.
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The stares, the anger, the deep rooted paranoia and the pure terror that was hiding somewhere inside Leslie and were also coming from Marcus were making the tension in the car heavy. It pushed down on them and Leslie shivered shortly. This was mental. When she watched the Ventrue she could indeed see what she feeling but she had a feeling there was more digust involved from his end. The cold layer that frosted his words were enough for her to know she needed to get out of this car really quick. She kept her eyes low and avoided his gaze. It was important not to get caught by his stare. However her shoulders were back and relawed and showed no fear nor defeat towards him.

Once the car stopped she placed her legs delicately out of the car and with her back towards him she spoke while she got out. "I had hoped for a better night mister Russo. I wanted to get to know you. I suggest we make it count double newt time we meet. Good night... Marcus." And with that she was gone as a fading memory but she was sure this night would not leave there minds anytime soon.
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