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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: |
| Familiar Faces; Open | |
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| Topic Started: Thursday, 20. January 2011, 23:09 (3,751 Views) | |
| Billie-Rae | Monday, 7. March 2011, 21:24 Post #21 |
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Childe
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Rae watched as the man pondered both her and Benji's words for a few moments and was reall glad when he holstered both his weapons. She knew he could pull them out again in a second but she sincerely hoped he wouldn't. From what Tanya had told her, it hurt a lot to be shot. He looked down for a moment in thought before he spoke. "We may not have a 'structure' nor a 'Leader' but as long as a single Anarch is here to fight... I think that the movement can exist" She admired his words, maybe he was a little more than a brute with too much testosterone. To her he seemed like someone who longed for the wars she had seen and lived though. With a little training, his passion could take him places. He then turned to her. "And I understand what you mean, Rae; if I may call you that way, of course. In answer to your question, though to this point I thought it would be obvious, I'm from the Brujah clan" "Ah, now I geddit," she said with a small smile. "Y'll are the life of the pardy. Brujah at Woodstock, now tha' was a night I'll ne'er forget. And erybody call me Rae ‘cept Lia so go ahead," she said as he grabbed a chair and sat next to the silent Jansen. Rae glanced at her pup to sense his reaction. He wasn't a people person on the best of days but she was and leaned forward to she Alvin a little better. He smiled at them and then seemed to become social after a second. "My apologies for the mess but I've been around for some time now"-He glanced at the male kindred on the back of the table-"And have had hairy experiences, but, having a talk with fellow Anarchs seems about right. I've noticed that you folks are not from here, right? Your accent sounds quite American, If I may add"-Said Alvin in a thick English accent-. "Jus' arrived actually. Here t'watch her play violin for the Orchestras and make sure a'twinkle-toes know she be claimed," she said, nodding to Lia the bathroom. "Asides, I promised her folks I'd watch out for her," she said as she reached over and took her empty glass and tipped an ice block into her mouth. She didn't think it prudent to talk for the others so she waited for them to answer themselves. "You a local Alvin?" she asked as the thought occurred to her. |
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Jansen, My Childe Lia, My Ghoul | |
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| Benji Harris | Tuesday, 8. March 2011, 20:18 Post #22 |
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Forgotten Neural Kiss...
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Benji looked on as Rae and Alvin answered each other's questions. The blue-haired kindred had toned down his mannerisms a little, settling into a form of speech that was a lot more polite than the one he'd introduced himself with, as if he'd perhaps realised that he'd made a mistake. It was clear that he had a strong sense of self, which was just what you'd expect from a Brujah, and Benji figured that this would often get Alvin into trouble one way or another. More confrontational kindred than Benji - and the Anarchs certainly weren't short of confrontational kindred - might not have taken so kindly to the Brujah's brash introduction and the bar would've somehow found itself with a crimson makeover. As far as Benji was concerned, the zealots were oft personifications of two nasty habits and little else; one being getting in the way of a well thought-out plan and the other being drawing attention to themselves without reason. "At least his heart is in the right place," Benji thought as Rae answered Alvin's questions, knowing that it could be a lot worse. "Jus' arrived actually. Here t'watch her play violin for the Orchestras and make sure a'twinkle-toes know she be claimed. Asides, I promised her folks I'd watch out for her," Rae had said in explaining why she'd come over to England. He was impressed with the dedication she was showing to her ghoul, usually it was the other way around with little return. In fact, Benji had only seen his own sire once since he was embraced, although he supposed that things were a little different when you had to keep feeding the ghoul blood. Rae's story was a much more thorough explanation than the one Benji had given to Jansen for his presence in London. Truth be told, he was hoping that the dreadlocked kindred would continue talking so that he wouldn't have to elaborate. Unfortunately, she instead paused, as if she was expecting Benji or Alvin to chip in with something. He felt compelled to speak. "S'pose it's easy to tell the difference between us and the Londoners, huh? I'm from New York to be exact, but I've been around most of the world now. To be honest, I'd still be out in L.A. if it wasn't for the Cammies and those oriental 'life-suckers' ruining the free-state," Benji said, trailing off towards the end as he wasn't really sure what else he could say without going into too much detail. Thankfully, Rae saved him from continuing by asking a question of her own. "You a local Alvin?" |
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| Alvin Benedict Blake | Thursday, 10. March 2011, 11:25 Post #23 |
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Childe
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Alvin smiled politely at what Benji said but he actually was rather interested on that, he had heard stories about that took over by those dogs of the Camarilla and the Kuei-Jin but never got to speak to someone who was actually there-Interesting-Thought Benedict as he saw Rae sitting next to the bulky guy who Rae introduced as Jansen, though the guy hadn't said a word yet. Rae seemed the kind of kindred who often like to attend parties and socialize, though that was an uncommon trait on the Gangrel; her comment about the Brujah being the soul of the party made Alvin's shoulders shake with a silent chuckle, he knew about that quite well. Also, Benedict was quite impressed with Rae's relationship with her ghoul; quite often it was really different from what she stated but it seemed that nothing on this kindred fit on the clichés of each clan. His mind bounced back to Benji, he wanted to know more about him and his history but the Gangrel seemed reluctant to tell more as if he was hiding something from the group; Al's right eye brow raised in suspicion about this. But, the bell had saved Benji when Rae asked the Brujah if he was a local. Alvin turned his gaze from Benji towards Rae and smiled at her with amusement, the female Gangrel was asking questions that were a bit obvious but he was not going to get rude at her just for that. Benedict might be a Brujah but had his manners. "Yes, Rae, I'm a local"-Said Ben winking at her and then glanced back to Benji-"So, Benji, you were there? at that time? I mean about the takeover by those dogs of the cammies and the Kuei-Jin"-Said at the male Gangrel with a keen interest-. |
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| Billie-Rae | Sunday, 13. March 2011, 11:27 Post #24 |
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Childe
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Rae glanced at Benji after he mentioned the Anarch Free State. She had heard about it but she had been on the other side of the country at the time and was a little too apathetic to care. Perhaps apathy was a little too strong a word, she was just confused by people trying to impose a structure that was meant to have no structure. Her personal opinion was that while she had no time for rules of the Camarilla, their basic structure was sound. The elder took care of the younger until they were ready to fend for themselves. Simple. The complications came when you sired anyone for any reason except the enjoyment of their company. She knew she would not charge the Camarilla, but if they could be made to see how the relationship between Tanya, she and Jansen was working, maybe they would begin to understand. Leaving that saddening thought behind as Alvin replied "Yes, Rae, I'm a local"-Said Ben winking at her "Apologies sa, but it be rude to assume," she said, acknowledging the possibly stupid question. She then stopped talking as Alvin began to talk to Benji. "So, Benji, you were there? at that time? I mean about the takeover by those dogs of the cammies and the Kuei-Jin"-Said at the male Gangrel with a keen interest... Rae decided not to get ahead of herself as she glanced to the bathroom, she was a little concerned for Lia but it was just beer after all. After a moment she spoke up, "Jus'a thought, won't the police be on 'eir way?" she glanced at Alvin, "There were jus' guns in 'ere..." she said, not truely worried cause the police everywhere were bad but this mild concern for Lia. |
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Jansen, My Childe Lia, My Ghoul | |
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| Benji Harris | Sunday, 13. March 2011, 12:18 Post #25 |
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Forgotten Neural Kiss...
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"So, Benji, you were there? At that time? I mean about the takeover by those dogs of the cammies and the Kuei-Jin," Alvin had asked excitedly, brushing off the question Rae had asked him in the process. It was understandable, everyone always wanted to know more about the Free State once they knew someone who'd been there. Why wouldn't they? It was becoming part of Anarch folklore, a place that would one day be considered more legend than fact! Truth be told, that was why Benji oft decided not to mention it, it was more hassle than it was worth. Unfortunately, It was too late now. "Well... I wouldn't give the Camarilla so much credit, it was the Kuei-Jin who did the real damage. We lost a lot of good kids fighting against them. It's easy enough fighting against the Cammies when you know they can only do the same things as you, but those oriental demons are something else," Benji began, pausing hesitantly as he thought about mentioning some of the strange things he'd seen them do. It was probably best not to get into it, it wasn't as if he'd be able to explain them. If he was able to explain them then they'd have been better able to fight against them. Continuing to speak, he instead decided to stick to (what he considered to be) facts, "Then the Cammies swooped in like the vultures they are, only claiming dominion once they knew we wouldn't be able to fight back!" The second sentence was said with real venom. It was obviously that Benji was bitter about losing the Free State, but more so that he was bitter about how it had happened. The Cammies hadn't even had to lift a hand in anger and they'd managed to take dominion over a city they had no right to be in; it would've made him feel sick if he was still capable of being so. It was only the ghoul who was still capable of being sick and she'd been missing for a while. Glancing at Rae, Benji noticed a hint of conern on her face, but the words she said didn't have anything to do with her ghoul. "Jus'a thought, won't the police be on 'eir way? There were jus' guns in 'ere," Rae had said. Whether she was genuinely concerned about the Police or not was questionable, but it didn't really matter. |
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| Alvin Benedict Blake | Thursday, 17. March 2011, 11:21 Post #26 |
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Childe
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Alvin was really insterested on Benji´s reply and so he just replied with a faint gesture of his hand to Rae´s questions, Al did not care much for police and the pigs would not come to this shithole of a bar, not that the place did not have its own delights. So, as he supposed, the sissies waited for someone else to do the dirty job and then claim that they did it all; so typical. The Brujah felt anger, he felt sadness and on a winding thread of thoughts he kept his eyes fixated on the wooden table for a couple of seconds; This was why they had to fight, this was why they had to lead and rebel against those oppressive dogs who pretended to take away their freedom. Ben´s hands resting upong the table became fists that shook a little bit but nothing more, letting out a sigh he spoke to Benji-"Even though I was not there, I can only imagine how you felt there, Benji. But that is why we must fight them! That is way we have to get toghether and stand against them!"-The brujah then hit the table hard unintentionally and the furniture showed a crack running along the whole thing.-"I wonder when a true leader, a Baron, will emerge to lead us into battle"-Said Ben, though his eyes were lost on the images of Benji´s story-. |
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| Billie-Rae | Thursday, 31. March 2011, 18:54 Post #27 |
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Childe
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Rae was intrigued by the dismissal both felt about the police. She personally was little worried but whenever the poice had shown up in America, she had just shown them a little bit of a good time and they had left them be. Oh well, if that was all it too here too then she could deal. She watched as Alvin seemed to consider the words of wisdom that Benji gave him. Rae herself had missed the Free State but she knew it meant a lot to a lot of people and so usually avoided the subject wherever possible. Alvin though seemed to take its loss as personally as though someone he knew was killed in it. Ben´s hands resting upong the table became fists that shook a little bit but nothing more, letting out a sigh he spoke to Benji-"Even though I was not there, I can only imagine how you felt there, Benji. But that is why we must fight them! That is way we have to get toghether and stand against them!"-The brujah then hit the table hard unintentionally and the furniture showed a crack running along the whole thing. Rae was a little shocked by this show of emotion. She didn't say anything and while she knew that there was a reason they were called the Rebels, this was the first time she had witnessed the character trait up close. It was a little intimidating to be truthful. "I wonder when a true leader, a Baron, will emerge to lead us into battle"-Said Ben, though his eyes were lost on the images of Benji´s story That was a shock. "London ain't got no Baron?" she asked incredulously, sitting forward on the stool. "That be interesting, how come?" She had never been in a city that did not have a Baron. She wondered what was keeping the Camarilla at bay if not them. This city was getting more interesting by the moment. |
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Jansen, My Childe Lia, My Ghoul | |
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| Sullivan | Thursday, 31. March 2011, 23:29 Post #28 |
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Ancilla
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He felt liberated these current nights. It was a feeling that was, in itself, something he had bothed longed for on nights gone by and feared in the nights he strode through now - what did you do with yourself, once liberated from a burden? If his mortal life was any example, he was to spend some time swanning around in some kind of false - and dangerous - assumption that life was looking up. Looking at where that had gotten him the last time - easily in excess of forty years guarding the one man he wanted to kill most - Sullivan was willing to bet that he needed to do something else, something worthwhile, with his time. Another night spent holed up in the local doing his best to sort out his stance on all of this - sudden freedom, the enmity of a powerful, twisted sire, and slowly unlocking what scraps of his own humanity he could find - was probably in hindsight not as productive as he should've been looking for. But, he was somewhere to sit and be - and sometimes, that was all the Irishman found himself wanting. Pushing gently at the door, Sullivan let his confident strides shrink somewhat, somehow seeming less necessary indoors. With the barest hint of acknowledgement through an upward tilt of the head, he noted the other Kindred there, their condition made obvious due to the topic of discussion. He stood examining the Tripper's eclectic and worn interior, as well as the bottles of alcohol behind the bar, with a warm smile - this had been a home to him by some description, when he wasn't sunk below the park or sharing a grungy basement with... Ah, bugger it, his name was always gone from memory when he went to say it. It reminded him of his old house, probably heavily re-designed and refurbished by now. The years had been unkind to that place, though - here, they just seemed to have added metaphorical smile-wrinkles. Taking the whiskey bottle from the wall - one of the few things he could still stomach, but after so long it was still taking some getting used to - the gangrel turned his back to the bar and leaned on it, tipping the bottle to his lips. The whiskey burned down throat - something that gave him the false sense of being alive, but almost a century ago had made him choke. It wasn't as though he was alone in drinking whiskey by the pint, or more, but he still remembered the barman's expression the first night he'd asked for it in quite that amount - priceless. If he'd had any idea how to properly work the camera on his phone, he'd have taken a picture - but that thing was barely of use to make phone calls on, nevermind anything else. Raking a hand through his black, never-tidy hair, he spotted a group near the back of the place - he wasn't sure by looks, but the twitch in his ears as they talked got him thinking that they at least might be Kindred - certainly at the show of force - and anger - from the man sporting the blue crest of hair. He was reluctant to join the conversation - seemed rude - but by the same token, he'd be rude to eaves-drop - so he spoke up. After all, they were being obvious enough - but the otherwise empty Tripper kind of allowed for that, "We can't agree is how come. Sabbat unify every so often and press at our East side, Cammies from everywhere else - we aren't organized enough. Some of us are all for the fight against the Sabbat or the Camarilla or... Or whoever. Some of us are looking further ahead and realize we need a little more of us before we can take and hold anywhere more than we already have." Approaching and smiling, the Irishman offered his name and a hand, "Name's Sullivan - mind if I join?" Edited by Sullivan, Friday, 1. April 2011, 00:00.
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| Benji Harris | Friday, 1. April 2011, 00:33 Post #29 |
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Forgotten Neural Kiss...
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"Even though I was not there, I can only imagine how you felt there, Benji. But that is why we must fight them! That is way we have to get together and stand against them!" Alvin had said, the words dripping with anger. He was right, too, despite his outburst of emotion. That the Camarilla were so cowardly and petty that they'd rather prey on the successes of the Kuei-Jin than attempt to help fight them off said a lot about them. Benji knew that he'd have no hesitation in helping the Camarilla fight off the Sabbat or the Kuei-Jin if the situation ever warranted it, even though he knew he'd have to watch his back whilst doing so, because it was clear that those two entities actually posed a real threat to the survival of the Kindred race. Exactly what threat the Camarilla thought the Anarchs posed was lost on Benji as he simply didn't see one; it was a daft state of affairs. Alvin continued by adding, "I wonder when a true leader, a Baron, will emerge to lead us into battle." "London ain't got no Baron?" Rae quickly replied, clearly surprised at what had just been said. Benji didn't think that the presence of a Baron was as common as her surprise made out, but maybe that was just because she'd always been in areas that had one. It didn't really matter, at least it gave them something else to talk about, although Benji's chance to reply was cut-off before he'd even organised his thoughts: "We can't agree is how come. Sabbat unify every so often and press at our East side, Cammies from everywhere else - we aren't organized enough. Some of us are all for the fight against the Sabbat or the Camarilla or... Or whoever. Some of us are looking further ahead and realize we need a little more of us before we can take and hold anywhere more than we already have," answered a new voice from the bar. The voice had an Irish twang to it, but that wasn't exactly uncommon in London. The source didn't really matter, though, as the words made a lot of sense; some Anarchs were so focused on 'rebelling' that they only cared about ragging on and messing with the Camarilla and some Anarchs were more focused on the immediate threat posed by the Sabbat, leading to a group of Kindred who were far too thin-spread to effectively deal with either problem. Personally, Benji couldn't care less about the Cammies so long as they didn't harass the Anarchs too much, but the Sabbat... the Sabbat needed to be put down. "Perhaps the Anarchs in London are just too smart to put themselves forward," Benji said nonchalantly. He wasn't being entirely seriously because he knew that having some kind of leader-figure was a good way to keep the younger Anarchs from doing anything too stupid, but it wasn't something that worried Benji that much. It certainly didn't worry him enough that he'd consider putting himself forward for the role, for instance. Benji continued by adding, "... And I don't mind if you join us." |
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| Sullivan | Friday, 1. April 2011, 22:58 Post #30 |
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Ancilla
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"Perhaps the Anarchs in London are just too smart to put themselves forward... And I don't mind if you join us." Sullivan nodded, pulling a chair towards the table and sitting himself down. Whether he liked the idea of none of the Anarchs having the brains(or the guts - the two distinctions seemed interchangeable at this stage) to be Baron on top of the brawn most Anarchs held close to their cold hearts seemed irrelevant at this point - the man wasn't wrong. Baron was a big title to hold - a great big target painted on your chest when it all went wrong and the new guys in charge called everyone together to set an example. That said, that was the best case scenario - at worst, it'd be the Sabbat they were dealing with rather than the Camarilla, and they'd just slaughter everyone not sworn to the Sword of Caine - wholesale and unashamed. It was all crap when you got down to it - the Sabbat, running around with their fangs out like a drunk woman leaving her t-shirt behind, the Camarilla looking on disapprovingly but doing nothing more than writing strongly-worded letters, and a whole mess of dissatisfied kindred waiting to see which side destroyed the other first. If they were to be taken seriously, they needed to act. If they were to act, they needed a leader, a rallying point - and a target. Just one - single target, single purpose, single goal. "Appreciated… And we are all a little bit too far one way or the other. Either thinking without the know-how to act, acting without thinking first, or trying to do both and succeeding at neither. Free State'd be a fine thing, to be sure - but we can't maintain one. Not like this. Seems a bit much to ask, to create that kind of environment and have it remain without any cohesion." He attempted to smile in a way that seemed genuine - as genuine as he was capable, anyway - so as to set his current companions at ease. He wasn't sure how far his reputation had extended, if any of those he was now sat with knew of him or what side he’d been on before the last push on the east side - best give them the impression that he wasn't that guy anymore. In the spirit of trying to get that point across, he shrugged and continued, "At any rate, before any of this talk becomes worthwhile, there needs to be a goal that every anarch agrees with, otherwise all the fury we could bring to the table'll still mean squat no matter how ferocious we look or how loud we shout. If too many of us aren't interested, then all the talk of 'fightin' the power' is a bit of a moot point." Shrugging, he considered the other topics he could smoothly deflect the conversation towards, and found none - Alasdair weighed in heavily on his mind tonight, and he couldn't help the barely disguised glance at the Tripper doors every few minutes. He was new to the anarch community - while he was happy to be a grunt in a cause he agreed with, he wasn't important enough - yet - by his reckoning to have to much say beyond what he would and wouldn't march against the Sword for. Camarilla, he had no gripes with - thus far. They were politicians, but they weren't stupid - he had nothing to offer them, they weren't interested. Nice, simple, easy - just the way the Irishman wanted it. the Sabbat... Eh, questionable. Alasdair wanted his vengeance, and one of these nights he'd come looking for it. The rest of the Sabbat, though... It was an odd kind of organization. Like the Catholic church of the kine, if it didn't want to be responsible for the actions of its' members, it just ignored their existence like so many child-abusing priests. The big question was whether Alasdair had support to come after his wayward childe, or just permission to do it. Edited by Sullivan, Saturday, 2. April 2011, 19:09.
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| Alvin Benedict Blake | Monday, 4. April 2011, 10:54 Post #31 |
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Childe
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Almost when Alvin was going to reply to Rae about not having any Baron, the door of The Night Tripper swung open to show the figure of a man wearing what seemed like a very tattered long black coat; not leather but almost looking like what a military guy would use. His face framed by a curly and quite messy hair gave away to a frown mug that seemed permanent on the man´s face; What actually had called the attention from Benedict was the guy´s hands, they were wrapped like he used to do when he was a boxer or something near to a boxer and street fighter, the Brujah kept his gaze on them as the man moved along towards the bar and pulled a whisky bottle. As the pale man took a gulp of the whisky and gave a shy look to the group, or that is how Alvin thought of it, Alvin kept his mouth shut; suddenly interrupted on a very interesting meeting. Seemed that this man had come to a decision as he spoke and revealed his true nature, kindred. This guy, Sullivan as he introduced himself, had quite a point but Alvin knew what was needed to do in order to move things up in a straight line towards success and a Free State; Yet he was pissed with Benji with the comment he had made-The Anarchs not smart enough? No, we just need more numbers-Thought the Brujah bitterly-Then Sullivan kept talking about strategies or at least objectives they could pick, as he pointed, the Anarchs needed more cohesion; Alvin felt a bit embarrased since his Clan had a problem with that given their wide different way of thinking on what revolution and a Free State was. But, freedom was a thing that all Brujah wanted; of that he was sure. Finally, Sullivan stopped talking yet the Brujah perceived somewhat of a paranoia as the kindred kept looking uneasy at the entrance. Alvin stood up, gave a wide berth look at the group and then pointed at the table with his right hand-"The Camarilla..."-Said the Brujah pointing at one side from the new long crack on the table and making a circle with his finger, his nail carving the wood with force of the blood-"The Sabbat..."-Said carving another circle on the other side of the line-"And Us on the middle of London´s territory... yet those sissies have somewhat of control over Brent"-Another smaller circle near the crack-"What we need is numbers and as Sullivan has said we must find a cohesion point, to me, it is to have first a territory of our own... pushing away the cammies"-Said the Brujah sliding his hand over the smaller circle-"We need to recruit as much Anarch members as we can and get some influence over the people of this area, showing them what the goverment trully is; I mean human goverment of course, and strike those dogs from both angles of their ugly face" |
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| Sullivan | Monday, 4. April 2011, 16:17 Post #32 |
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Ancilla
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Sullivan smiled, and took a swig of his whiskey - oh, to have the confidence in others' abilities to just come out and say that like they'd right away get onboard. The cammies were no problem at all unless they made them a problem - the sad truth was that the anarchs didn't 'have' Brent, not even parts of it. They just lived there. He considered saying as much right away, but he wasn't sure whether the others were waiting for a chance to put in their two cents - and far be it from him to deny them that. After all, being an anarch, that was kinda the point. He did, admittedly, have a deeply personal bias to strike the Sabbat first, but it was also more realistically feasible to do so - the camarilla ran this city right now, and that meant they were everywhere. The bigwigs at the top of the tower might not strike back directly, but the camarilla struck back just as lethally as snakes if you angered them - more than, he'd wager. The Sabbat were against anyone and anything that wasn't also Sabbat - that struck him as a bigger problem. Not hearing other comments, he spoke again, but only because it seemed pointless to think 'you're being foolish' and not even attempt to say so - honesty, best policy, that sort of thing. "That'd be great if it weren't for the fact that the camarilla aren't all that bothered with us, and they're a damn big fish to just 'go after.'" He leaned forwards so that he could make his point using the crude diagram carved into the wood of the table, "Think of it like this. The camarilla here is a great big boulder on top of a hill - and that smaller circle between us and it is all that's stopping it rolling down right ontop of us. We take that and splat! We're done, plain and simple. Whereas the Sabbat over here would be more accurately represented like this." Reaching to the circle, Sullivan carved two lines of his own, creating an open-mouthed pacman facing the line that represented the anarchs. Feeling his point would pretty much make itself without explaination, Sullivan shrugged and grabbed his drink again, "Wagga wagga wagga - and we ain't ghosts." He said, taking a long swig of the drink in his hands directly afterwards. He chuckled, "I mean hey, would could always play the cammie game and help them out. They're getting rid of the Sabbat as quickly as they can't, which isn't very quick at all - they need a few extra to tip the balance. Some blind-siders, if you will. I don't have to like the cammies to know that the Sabbat will always see them as a bigger problem - so we make them really get the Sabbat enthusiastic about going after the camarilla by making it seem like they're getting the better of them. Then, while the Sabbat are busy taking it to the camarilla, we just sort of take the East side of the city while they're busy. The playing field levels, we have two ends of the city not just the one, and suddenly, with only flat land between us and the camarilla... " Sullivan planted first one boot and then the other ontop of 'Brent', "Taking away the little rock doesn't get us killed." |
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| Alvin Benedict Blake | Wednesday, 6. April 2011, 10:39 Post #33 |
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Childe
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Alvin crossed his arms in a tight pose and lowered his head pondering on the words of this irish kindred, he could tell from a mile he was irish due to his accent; the Brujah had lots of contacts all around the United Kingdom. And, right now, he was thinking of that Nosferatu he saved from Final Death; of course, Danny had returned the favor but there could always be a trade with the guy. The Nosferatu were always open for deals, except on certain situations. Come to see how Sullivan put it at, he was right; Benedict hated the idea of making a pseudo-alliance with the Camarrila but if they promoted for the Sabbat to get active and arouse fight between the two bigger sects, that would get them at least a snowball´s chance to have a turf. The Brujah relaxed his muscles and rested his hands on his hips, knowing more of this kindred would be great. "Now, Sullivan, you got quite a point there man... but I was wondering why you looked so nervous just know; I saw you glancing at the door quite often"-The Brujah made a pause with his eyes fixed on the kindred, waiting for his words to sink in-"Are you waiting for company? Or what? Moreover, you haven´t said to which clan you belong to... As you may have already guessed, I am from the Brujah Clan" Then Benedict crossed his arms one more time, and kept his gaze upon the newly arrived kindred. Alvin was considering he was being a bit foolish for being so confident of this guy and not knowing if he was for real an Anarch; for all he knew he could be a Sabbat dude trying to lure them into a trap or recruiting them, also, this kindred made a mistake with the joke of the pacman when Alvin was quite serious on the topic at hand. It was not wise to piss off a Brujah, unless you could put a good fight; and for how this kindred looked, he seemed have had many fights and whatnot. The challenge with a good fighter always fueled his spirit but he was not going to start a fight right now if it could be avoided, of course. Benedict´s mind trailed for a second on the rest of the group, was wondering what they would have to say. |
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| Sullivan | Thursday, 7. April 2011, 10:22 Post #34 |
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Sullivan shrugged - the man had a point, he'd not mentioned his lineage. The Irishman wasn't fully aware of having neglected to do so, but wasn't above thinking that on a subconscious level, it may've been deliberate - Sabbat connections didn't earn you any trust around here. Although, if he was allowed to get so far as the end of his term as Alasdair's bodyguard, he suspected the Brujah would approve - tearing an abusive sire's face and all. Then again, it was still in debate as to how far into the story he'd get before this guy - after all, Brujah will be Brujah - just slammed his fist into Sullivan's face. While - unusually - he had celerity as well, he wasn't looking forward to cutting on a guy in the middle of the Tripper - the Anarch community wasn't entirely trusting of him as it is, he didn't need to headache of questions asking why he cut on one of their own. He shrugged with a smile and drank from his bottle again, speaking only once he was done and had savoured to flavour a little, "I'm Gangrel. As for who I'm waiting for... Less waiting and more hoping they don't turn up. I haven't seen my sire since... " He feigned a thoughtful expression, his eyes rolling upward a little as he considered how to obscure the details without arousing suspicion, "Around the last organized push on the East side I think - but don't quote me on it. In the middle of the mayhem, he insulted me and demanded I do his dirtywork for the last time, and we fought. Afterwards, I woke up to find myself with bandages here and there and some guy I didn't know telling me what'd happened. Apparently I got lucky and some others joined in before I flat-out got ripped apart." He shrugged, and leaned back in his chair, arms draped down the back and his face aimed squarely at the ceiling as his legs crossed themselves, shuffling his boots on the table somewhat. "Either way, I know he'll be looking for me. He used to brag that even as a Gangrel, his face was unmarred - I saw to that. It isn't something he can just take and accept - his bastard childe tearing through his nose, mouth and jaw - so, one o' these nights, he'll come for me, and we'll find out what'll happen then when it happens." He glanced at the Brujah, "And while we're on the Q & A, what's your name? Can't just keeping thinkin' of ye as the bloke with blue hair." |
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| Mauno | Thursday, 7. April 2011, 17:00 Post #35 |
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The Aria Pro was light in his hands, its emerald coat shimmering as the light from a street lamp caressed its surface. It wasn't the best made instrument. Mass produced ones never are, but it did have the advantage of being easy to find. The little brat will find it missing soon, Shaw mused to himself. He didn't care. Plans were afoot and Shaw was in need of letting off a little excess energy. The hoody sitting on the corner - face hidden to the world, senses lost in his MP3-Player - paid Mr Shaw no attention as he walked up to him. Nor did he see the guitar before it crashed down upon his head, splintering into several rough-edged pieces. The boy slumped unconscious to the pavement. Shaw raised an eyebrow at the ease and, feeling refreshed, dropped the remains of the neck and strings. A scream distracted him where, looking up the road, he saw a number of people running from a pub door. Slowly he made his way towards the door, noticing another beat him inside. Arriving at the door Shaw smiled. Pushing open the heavy wooden door, Shaw stepped into the pub, rain water dripping of his coat and hair, thin trickles of water lining his face. A quick glance around the room revealed only one table to be occupied, its inhabitants clustered around like businessmen trading stories of various strip-clubs, afraid that their wives will overhear them. Shaw turned nonchalantly and offered a friendly smile. 'Am I interrupting?' |
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"I hope I can bring the realization that everyone is controlled by fear. Whether it is imagined or actual, the fear is real to them and controls every aspect of their lives." | |
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| Sullivan | Sunday, 10. April 2011, 23:13 Post #36 |
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Sullivan glanced around the others at the table - and even the Brujah wasn't talking. From the look of the newcomer, he wasn't new to his condition - he walked comfortably, settled. Everyone else had a walk or a posture that said they had something to prove to somebody, even if that someone wasn't here right now - himself included. He shrugged, and smiled to the newcomer - this wasn't supposed to be a place of combat, and he had no reason to distrust this man. Well, that was a lie - he had plenty of reasons to distrust him. But those reasons were due to lessons Alasdair had taught him, so he ignored them on principle. "So, have you developed a technique for killing conversation, or is it just something you've a natural knack for?" He asked, his smile genuine and without a secondary purpose - he'd found that so many kindred took themselves so damn seriously he was having to make up the difference. He didn't claim to be all that good at it. |
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| Mauno | Monday, 11. April 2011, 18:01 Post #37 |
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Shaw gave the table a brief going over, his eyes skimming over the faces that had turned to him. Their silence seemed to indicate that they had chosen to accept the man who addressed him as their spokesman, so Shaw decided to honour their choice by allowing his eyes to return to the speaker. The man Shaw beheld was an odd mix of contradictions. At once his grey eyes held the impression of anger and strength, eyes which could stare down a charging bull, yet his face was handsome. His clothes also spoke of toughness, a long military coat which sparked something in Shaw's memory, but which he couldn't place. The long hair, stubble-ridden face and chiselled features gave him the look of a survivor, yet his voice and words prompted rhetoric and non-violence. He was definitely not new to this life, and Shaw wondered if he'd perhaps gone soft in his old age. He immediately dismissed the idea as the man wouldn't have survived, had that been the case. It was possible that the man simply honoured the idea that there was a time for talk and a time to act. Shaw realised that he was gaining respect for the man and inwardly scolded himself. One thing he was almost certain of was that this man didn't own any of the compensation vehicles he saw parked outside. One thing he would not do was dance of the masquerade. 'I guess I must have a knack for it.' Shaw said, slightly bemused. 'But then it's not hard to kill things around those who have already embraced death. So tell me...' He paused ever so slightly to make sure that everyone was listening. 'I have only just arrived in this city and immediately was confronted by some rather distressing news. Apparently the Baron has been killed. Please can someone tell me this is not so.' He asked, fearing he wouldn't get the answer he desired. |
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"I hope I can bring the realization that everyone is controlled by fear. Whether it is imagined or actual, the fear is real to them and controls every aspect of their lives." | |
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| Sullivan | Monday, 11. April 2011, 23:02 Post #38 |
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Shrugging, the Irishman stood, his whiskey comming with him, "Interstingly, we were just talking about that. Unfortunately, I can't give you the joy of explaining how it's all an elaborate ruse to fool the Cammies and the Sword. He's really, truly dead - and there's no way a group of anarchs as disparate as London's can agree on a new one." He gestured towards the table, specifically the crude diagram, "We just had the discussion from beginning to end, more or less. We need a new Baron, and then we need to make the Camarilla think it doesn't need to worry about us. Even better, offer our services as allies - if we strengthen the Cammies' efforts against the Sword, then the Sword takes it to the Camarilla with all they've got. While they're busy, we move on the east, and between us and the politicians, the Sword's power base is gone, and we have a much better tomorrow to live in - more turf, influence and power to bring to bear." He did take note of how much more... refined the man seemed now that he stood and looked at him from a level position - eye-to-eye, after a fashion. He had experience, both as a kindred and as someone with strong opinions that gained him attention and approval, if perhaps also netting the occassional detractor. This man wasn't ust used to getting his way, but capable of making sure of it. Sullivan wasn't sure what to make of that - how Anarch were you really if you made demands, silent ones or otherwise, of people you'd never met? The Irishman folded his arms and moved to lean on the unoccupied bar, his stance and expression suggesting that he valued the subject more than he intended to show, "Either way, we box clever now or we'll be kissing canvas - we haven't the numbers to make a decent push and maintain more turf, let alone a damn free state." He let his scorn for the idea show through a bit - but only a little. He admired those who could hold to the dream better than he could - but cynicism was an overwhelmingly powerful mistress. Once she had you, believing in anything else seemed pointless. |
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| Mauno | Tuesday, 12. April 2011, 08:26 Post #39 |
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The man made a fair point and given his ideas on strategy there was no real need for a leader. Anarchs could simply act of their own intuition, causing trouble for the Sabbat whilst claiming to be Camarilla. He returned his view to the table, his eyes drifting over the silent figures. But then again, he thought, if all Anarchs are as docile as this lot appears, no wonder they have no leader. Hell, they don't even appear to have initiative. Shaw decided on a new approach. 'Perhaps a new leader shouldn't be our primary concern. In time we will need one, this is true, but for now our position should be first in our decisions.' He turned back to face the spokesman who was now leaning on the bar. 'You ideas have merit. If you hadn't just decided upon them I'd be asking why no one had implemented them yet. One does not need a leader when the motive is clear to all, or so it has been suggested. If everyone is in favour of this plan then why not begin it tonight?' He opened the question to all, his hands held palms up as though offering them something. 'Is there some chain of command that still needs to be called on, or are Anarchs allowed to act out the decisions of their own councils?' Without moving Shaw seemed to take a step back, offering the floor to anyone who wished to take the chair and carry on the debate. In truth he was more interested in the communication and social dynamics that were to follow than he was in the decision they would eventually agree on. |
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"I hope I can bring the realization that everyone is controlled by fear. Whether it is imagined or actual, the fear is real to them and controls every aspect of their lives." | |
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| Sullivan | Tuesday, 12. April 2011, 11:18 Post #40 |
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Sullivan shrugged, his dedication not in question but his plan at odds with the suggested course. "Tonight, I'm afraid, I have someone to pay a visit to." He said, the whiskey having made his decision to go looking for Alasdair himself a bit easier to settle on. He grinned regardless, "But if there's hell to raise for the Sword to deal with on the way there, I'll put in the effort." He glanced at the others - they were silent. Thinking, maybe - two of them hadn't spoken since he'd arrived, the Brujah occupying most of the banter to be had. Not that he didn't expect that to a degree - Brujah were always vocal, and always meant what they said. He liked that about them - liars and political snakes were few and far between in the Brujah ranks. He glanced back at the newcomer, and offered a hand in a gesture of proper greeting, "Sullivan." He stated, directly afterwards continuing, " And as far as a chain of command goes, heh... Best bet as far as I can tell would be to encourage operations in groups. Try to enforce it and we're no better than the Old Boy's Club down in central. Either way, I'll do what I can - I have a somewhat personal stake in making the Sabbat leave." |
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3:54 PM Jul 11