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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Work and Play
Topic Started: Thursday, 28. July 2011, 21:22 (1,455 Views)
Sullivan
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Ancilla
* * * *
Sullivan folded his arms, brow furrowed in thought. Nora's mind was a maze, he couldn't get a read on her like he did other people. He had to try other methods, find other chinks in her armour - which were few and far between by design and effort both. He didn't know what it was that made her want to keep offering him a way out - as if their situation was somekind of contract, like he'd signed away what remained of his soul for companionship and crazy nights.

Sitting himself on the bed, the Irishman held his tongue, trying to figure out a way in which he could pose the question without it sounding so... Accusatory. In the end, he didn't find any method much better than to just go direct and avoid the bob, weave and dance around, "Nora. Why do ye keep telling me I've got an out like I've been forced ta be here?"

He regretted how it sounded as if he was a little offended at the notion that he wanted to escape, but in a sense he was. She had him in a vice-grip the way nobody else did, but she kept trying to throw him away. He didn't mind if she wanted this over, that was painful but it was solid. This was like being catapulted against two walls. "Look, ye tell me it's over if it's over. I'll shout, ye shout back, somebody'll slam a door on their way out and that's how the story ends. Fine. But if ye want this over - that's on you. Just because you're nine kinds o' crazy doesn't mean I'll do it for ye."
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Nora Penvellyn
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Rebel With a Cause
* * * *
Nora returned in a matter of seconds with another bowl of hot water and bottle of bleach to find Sullivan perched on the end of the bed. She sucked in her breath, biting the bullet and focusing her attention on her lovely pool of standing, slowly coagulating blood on the hardwood floor. Was he considering it? She felt a sick pang in her stomach, as if female intuition still took a toll on her. She hated this. She hated sitting in silence waiting for an answer. She didn't want it to come to this, wished like hell it didn't have to. Then he spoke...

She whipped her gaze to meet his with a mixture of fury and hurt feelings. He thought she wanted this to be over, but in all reality, that was the last thing she wanted. All she could do was laugh and go back to cleaning the floor. As terrible as she felt to be laughing in that moment, it was the only thing keeping her from going into hysterics again. What had he done to her? How had he gotten his claws in so deep, so fast? The laughter was short-lived though; try as she might to keep the tears at bay, she couldn't help it. She lost her self-control along with her sanity a long time ago. She tossed the towel in the bowl and looked back to him. She didn't try to hide how she felt. There was no use. Her eyes pierced his, showed him just how much she hated having to do this to him. How badly she wished she didn't have to.

"God damn it, Sullivan... why do you have to make this so much harder then it has to be? Do you honestly think I want this to be over? I can't fucking stand this! I hate knowing that I did this to us... I've already dragged you down this far... I won't take you any further. I refuse to watch you give up everything you have left just to stay by my side... I won't allow it." She raised her shaky hands to take his, trying to blink back another wave of tears and steady her voice, "I'm too far gone. I can't be saved. I don't want you to meet the same fate. You still have most of your head together... You could do something great with yourself. I tried and failed. Don't let me hold you back, because if I do, I'll never forgive myself." Her voice hitched again, biting her lip and desperately trying to keep herself together.

"I don't want to lose you...but if I ruin you... I'll ruin myself."
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Sullivan
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* * * *
The Irishman remained silent, sat on the worn threadbare mattress, unable to quite voice how much he wanted this to stay as it was... How little he believed what Nora had said. He breathed out, low and quiet - this was too intense, all of it... But he couldn't let it go. Couldn't let her go. This was the closest he had been to human in decades... Much as Nora wouldn't allow it, he wouldn't allow her to pull them apart. He couldn't.

Deciding that there was only one thing for it, Sullivan dug deep into his own willpower, held onto himself all he could - because he had hoped to never tell anybody about his activities in those days. "Well, the first mistake ye made was puttin' me on that big tall pedestal." He said quietly, staring at his hands in a curious, absent-minded fashion - something to keep his focus, he supposed, though in honesty he wasn't entirely sure. "I, uh... I was an enforcer fer Alasdair. He didn't want to get his own claws dirty, so... He had mine. Sometimes, he needed information... Irrespective o' the cost. These hands - the ones I gently trace through your hair, the fingertips I lovingly run along your skin... I used them to pluck out a kindred's eyes once upon a time. I'm not any further along in healin' from what I did, or who I was... I just... I just hide it better. Probably the only lie I can pull off is gettin' folks ta think I'm not just a monster wearin' man-hide."

He raised his eyes up from their intertwined hands and locked them with hers, the look unintentionally pleading, "Nora, I got nothin'. I got a childhood I barely remember well enough to see images, an' after that... I got sixty-somethin' years as a nightmare walkin' and talkin' and pullin' out eyes only to swap in others, force feed blood into the poor bastard so he'll heal those wrong eyes into place... And this is with the kid-gloves still on. I don't have a background of bein' this pillar o' stability, ok? All I do have is a gallery o' things I did to people who didn't deserve it. There's a good reason I didn't wanna talk about my time in the Sword. The less I think about it, the less broken I feel."

He sighed, raising one hand out of Nora's grip, "But he knows. Alasdair knows that all this grin and skip in my step, all this normalcy... It's bravado and happy thoughts. An' that's all I got - that an' far, far too much bottles of whatever's cheapest. Other'n that? You. You are the best I have, the closest I have, to bein' the man I was before... Before this. An' if you need this ta end to keep together yer own head, I... I won't stop ye. But I will never find another like you, Nora - that's as true as it gets. An for better or worse, that's how it is."

Sighing and drawing himself together - or trying to - Sullivan stroked a finger through Nora's darkly coloured hair, "If this is what you need to do... Go ahead. But don't ask me to say it's okay. I can't."
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Nora Penvellyn
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Rebel With a Cause
* * * *
Nora couldn't help but smile despite the blood that smeared her pasty cheeks as he spoke about his need for her. She pulled her hands away, rubbing her eyes and willing the tears to stop before climbing into his lap, straddling his hips and settling comfortably there. Their eyes were locked in an intense, somewhat confusing, and desperately pleading gaze, "Then we'll be a disaster waiting to happen together..." She giggled under her breath as she smoothed her fingertips over his scalp, cupping his strong jaw with her hands and kissing him. It wasn't as fiery or lustful as some of the other lip locks they'd exchanged; it was soft, gentle, and everything that they weren't.

She shifted in his grasp, flipping her wet hair over her shoulder looking back to him lovingly, "I don't know about you, but I'm hungry... We should go for a walk. I want to show you something." Her mood had suddenly swung from borderline hysteric and down to chipper and upbeat as she gracefully slid out of his lap and started pulling on a pair of jeans, suddenly wanting to head out the door right then and there with the short patience of an excited child, "Get up and let's go! It's fuckin' important!" She laughed as she walked towards the door, ready to leave.
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Sullivan
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* * * *
Sullivan held onto the memory of the kiss for a second or two after it ended, feeling it again and again in his head. It was... Strange. Not unwelcome, but all the same different. He got the impression that moments like these were either going to be rare occurences, or were going to happen every time Nora flipped out or he dragged most but not all of himself home from a botched hunt in Sabbat turf. They were both going to get themselves killed... But he couldn't honestly say he was selfless enough to let go. Stupidly bad odds of survival or no.

The Irishman chuckled and shook his head gently as he stood, not sure where Nora's enthusiasm had suddenly come from, but gladly taking that over having to sort through his gallery of past mistakes. With a slightly raised hand, he spoke, "Alright, alright - I'm up. Just let me quickly sweep around the place fer a bag an' some o' my stuff - if we aren't comin' back, best not leave anythin' worth keepin' behind." He strode into the kitchen and fetched a large rucksack from under the sink - he'd left it there incase of ever having to leave in a hurry.

He moved about the small flat, grabbing clothes mostly - everything else was either gone or simply not going to fit. The Irishman didn't forget to pack the webley that Vinnie had given him for sake keeping, figuring the Brujah might be back for it one day - though perhaps more importantly he also packed the car numberplates - and swung the large bag over one shoulder. "Alright, Lass - lead the way."
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