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| Welcome To The Night You find yourself in London - but not as a mortal as something entirely different. Welcome to the world of Vampire The Masquerade. The game uses the cursed and immortal Vampiric condition as a backdrop to explore themes of morality, depravity, the Human condition, salvation, and personal horror. Your fate is your own - Join The Camarilla or The Sabbat, rise and become powerful or scheme from the sewers. 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: |
| Judge, Jury and Executioner; Reserved | |
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| Topic Started: Friday, 10. August 2012, 00:35 (587 Views) | |
| Lucien Chambers | Friday, 10. August 2012, 00:35 Post #1 |
Former Prince
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Sloane Square was busy that evening, the distribution of Olympic Gold medals meant the celebrations continued into the twilight hours. The basement office had been set up in the years following the downfall of Prince Knight in the grip of World War Two – it was said to be the safest location in London but it was simply an in-between for Lucien at this point. Marble smothered the floor and the lack of natural light was pleasing to The Prince. The Axe was currently under refurbishments due to the structural damage caused by a gas leak, or at least that’s what the papers reported. The elderly kindred stared blankly into the bright monitor:
He was out again and it seemed longer this time. Finally his eyes opened and he was back in the same soulless marble office that he had left. “Shake it off” He muttered to himself, but there was no denying that the blackouts were becoming longer and more intensive. He needed to concentrate, there was much to be rebuilt and he could feel the Circles icy breath on the back of his neck. The kindred slid his mouse across the pad and opened a new message.
Manners cost nothing... and he sent the email, blind copying in the scourge to carry out their due diligence. “Mr Chambers” His intercom lit the corner of his eye “We... We have a kindred here – he claims to have killed The Archbishop” Chambers stared at the device in disbelief. An interesting turn of events to say the least, the creature that he had hounded for nearly two years to be killed by a mere kindred. If it was true then this creature would serve well in the organisation. He flexed his bony pale finger and hit the exchange. “Send him in”. |
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| Naga | Saturday, 11. August 2012, 02:56 Post #2 |
The Sheriff of London
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The creature patiently waited with eyes closed, quietly humming a broken but merry tune. His claim was surely bold, but the secretary whom he had informed believed every word. For those viewing at the stranger through security cameras or more supernatural methods of remote viewing, they may not understand. He felt little doubt that their paranoia would drive them to peer into his mind and soul, find what lay hidden beneath the murky mask. But he wouldn’t let them. He shut them out, gracing them only with his gentle melody. He could stand no taller than five foot seven, and his frail physique gave impression he weighed no more than sixty kilograms before he had shuffled off his mortal coil. His long yet tangled mess of dirty brown hair cast his muddy and miscoloured face into a shadow. Even though it was caked beneath layers of unknown filth, his complexion was clearly discoloured to an irregular corpselike grey. Small blotches of purple legions were scattered without pattern across his entire face and body. An affliction developed so long ago, he often forgot he possessed it. That, and leprosy was a concern only for mortals. A sentiment that he felt was also true when it came to matters of fashion. He wore an expensive black suit covered with a crombie longcoat which, like him, were muddied and stained with foul smelling substances. They also threatened to engulf his miniscule form due to being several sizes too big. His cursed eyes crept open to peek at the snakeskin boots. How he did enjoy the feel of dead skin rubbing tenderly against his own. He closed his eyes and brought an especially grubby hand topped with unkempt fingernails to his cargo. He patted the tall plastic bag that leaned on the wall, its bulk standing a full head higher than him. It smelt infinitely worse too. ”Sir?” The creature snapped his head towards the Kindred, bearing down on it with a corrupted stare. His eyes appeared as plagued as the rest of his gruesome form, the iris spread to twice their proportion and a sticky combination of brown and green in colour. Whether courtesy or disgust, the secretary merely lifted a hand, indicating that he had been granted the audience he desired. A yellow wolf grin spread across the creatures face, prompting him to limp forward. ”Why, thank you.” he nodded, though polite in tone it was tarnished somewhat by the rasp in his throat as if he struggled to get the words out. However, it could be discerned that he was a native of these parts, though whether this ancestry extended back to his mortality was debatable. He paused in his advance and twisted to the ‘parcel’ he had wrapped up. ”Could you be a dear and watch him for me.” his smile did not waver, but there was a certain force behind his words. It was not so much a question as a demand. ”This shant take too long” He stepped into the office, noting the cold emptiness of the room. And the man himself. It was good to know the reputation the Lasombra had painted of the Prince of the Camarilla held true. He had expected little else. ”Prince Chambers. A small courtesy proceeded. He kept several feet away from the Ventrue, as he imagined would be preferred given the distinct lack of security in the room with him. Then again, Princes weren’t known for being easily assassinated. Rising to full height, he continued. ”I’m sure there is much you wish to know. I shall be as forthright as I can.” it was for the prince to ask the questions. It was for the the Nagaraja to get what he deserved. |
| You think that when you die you go to Heaven...You come to us. | |
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| Lucien Chambers | Saturday, 11. August 2012, 04:00 Post #3 |
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Former Prince
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The Prince patiently watched as the creature limped into the office pulling along with him a rather large boast. The door flew shut behind him and they were finally alone, the crowds seemed to stop their celebrations, the workers at the office all stopped talking and he sat staring in ominous silence. The Kindred was not of any bloodline he had seen, although he was able to match up a few dots he could not quite place the bloodline. “Intrigue abounds” The Prince mused from the darkness and locked his hands atop his desk. Everything about the kindred echoed vulgar, his attire, his complexion but perhaps vulgarity was in fact a virtue after all. He closed his eyes for a moment, the strain felt worse again but luckily no blackout – that was all he needed. “Welcome creature. I have not laid eyes on you in this city before or any of your clansmen although I have my reservations as to your original origin” The elder pushed himself slowly to his feet, quite a large margin taller than the kindred who stood before him. It could be a trap by The Sabbat, but quite unlikely – not in this location and they had remained silent for some time. “You claim to have killed The Archbishop of The Sabbat, I wish you to be forthright in your claim to all of this and what evidence you may present. I am a busy man and on a tight schedule these days” Drowning. Judement. He pushed it away from his mind. “Give me every spec of detail you can, if I find this is simply a game I will be exceptionally displeased and I can assure you – whenever I play a game I always win”. |
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| Naga | Saturday, 11. August 2012, 09:02 Post #4 |
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The Sheriff of London
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Words meant little to the Nagaraja. His face merely twitched to a shade of fascination. He saw through the use of the nobleman’s pretty way with words, reading what he truly wanted, sensing a hidden desperation in the man’s voice. London was indeed full of surprises. The ghoulish man gave a small shrug but a look of certainty. ”Magnus Monroe is dead.” he raised an index finger to signal he had not finished. ”My evidence right now consists of a soul blackened by his taint. His destruction taught me...things. Things that would be of great interest to you, yes. Though perhaps, if we're lucky...” He brought a crooked hand to the breast pocket of the suit and, with thumb and finger, pinched a small gathering of dust that nestled within. He paused a moment and closed his eyes. Somewhere deep in the dark he felt a rage brewing. A sensation that had began two nights ago, the night in which the Lasombra was taken from this world. A soft chuckle came from somewhere, entertained by the anger as his fingers scattered the remnants to the floor. Then, his stare refixed, he continued. ”He had much planned for you, my Prince. You never met, but as long as he was of this world he sought to end you. And should someone do the same to him before your demise, well...” he waved his hand in gesture, knowing the Chambers understood ”there are contingencies.” He sighed, not wishing to repeat himself but he often did not understand social etiquette. In fact, he didn’t understand people. Their need to know every intimate detail and technicality. But he acknowledged the flaw to be his, not theirs. It was the nature of the Nagaraja to keep secrets. So he would start from the beginning, a blackened tongue emerged to whet his lips, and leave out what he could. ”I met the Lasombra a long time ago. In that time, he got the better of me and...kept me.” his jaw clenched at the memory. ”Magnus enjoyed playing games as well, my Prince. He too believed that he would always win. He sought to exploit me for my knowledge. For my secrets. He kept me for much too long, so long that I eventually I got free. And then you see, my Prince, He lost.” the warning was clear. He knew the risk he took with the Camarilla, knowing the treacherous game they played. But he had bigger plans for that. ”And with his death, I learnt much. His plans for you.” what had been firm eye contact now turned to an enchanted gaze as he stared around the room. ”His spies in your organisation.” He raised his finger again, not wanting to be interrupted. Perhaps an insolent gesture to a Prince, but he felt little power in tradition. That and the mention of spies brought him neatly into another reason for his visit. ”I notice this building is not your usual accommodation? But of course, the explosion forced you to find room elsewhere.” He gave a tired, sympathetic smile, though there was no ounce of goodwill in it. ”I saw what happened in that room long before Monroe’s spies reported back. My clansmen are able to see things others do not.” he took a quick step forward, ready for the final play. ”The Archbishop is dead. Whether you choose to believe that is irrelevant, because there are more troubling things occurring in the kingdom. Accordingly, I'm here to offer more. Much more.” Finally his resolve cracked and a delighted smile filled his horrid face. ”But I want to know what price you’re willing to pay.” |
| You think that when you die you go to Heaven...You come to us. | |
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| Lucien Chambers | Monday, 13. August 2012, 04:28 Post #5 |
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Former Prince
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He listened to the vermin chatter from the darkness of the office, his cool eyes fixed upon him for the entire time as he disappeared in and out of the light. He did not know what to think of the kindred’s tale, it could indeed be fabrication but the word spy made him immediately uneasy. He studied him in silence, possibly insane – no it was something more than that and what did he have to offer?... What indeed? “Enough” Came the piercing shrill from the gloom. “It appears you love nothing more than to incoherently prattle. Your tale is indeed interesting creature. I am inclined to believe you at this point, although I will have to carry out my own enquiries” His manner was brisk and professional but beneath the surface he was irate. The manner in which this filth spoke to him was repulsive – he needed to learn his station quickly, even with his self-proclaimed clairvoyance. But there was something about this rotting pile of flesh that Lucien could use and use efficiently. “Truth be told I have need of someone to police this city, someone whom I can rely on to be my justice” It was decided in his mind, it was time to introduce another piece to the table. “I assume you are aware of the duties of a Sheriff. If your tales are indeed factual you may be expedient in the preserving the Masquerade and The Camarilla in my city” The Prince stood from behind his desk he was towering at six foot tall, that was something he relished – the simple fear height brought with it. He began to gradually pace towards the beast, clasping his hands behind his back as he did so. The Prince began to expend the vitae he had just consumed in order to make his next sentence that more persuasive “I am very good at spotting talent, so I am extending to you a job offer. I would have you serve as my Sheriff – to keep the Princes peace in this decadent city of ours” Keep your friends close… “Do you accept?” “Oh and… I will also require your name creature” |
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| Naga | Monday, 13. August 2012, 11:10 Post #6 |
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The Sheriff of London
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”Sheriff, hmm...” he nodded slowly, a grumble of contemplation was broken only by the sound being caught of the lumpy innards of his throat. He had not forseen such a bold offer to present so soon, but perhaps it certainly was workable. The Nagaraja had originally intended to offer the information he possessed in exchange for safe haven. Perhaps anonymity and safe passage back to Sri Lanka. But in light of such a tempting offer, who was he to refuse? A respected role under the eye of the Camarilla would provide security in its own right. Regardless, his vendetta against the Sabbat had not come to an end with the scattering of Monroe’s ashes. Indeed, the hands that had filled his soul with darkness were countless and resulted in creating a putrid hatred for all who would consider themselves of the Sword. His had absolute clarity of vision, dealing only in black and white made things that much simpler. ”Yes...” he muttered, decision made but sounding weary. He merely used this pause to calculate the new office time into his very busy schedule. He had only pushed the Sabbat brink. Tonight, would be the crescendo. He had planned a most glorious spectacle for these evening, not only would it provide him as retribution and comfort, but serve an example to his new employers. ”Yes. I will do this gladly, my Prince.” He confirmed in a raspy mess of his foul breath. He held one hand over another at his midsection and gave a small courtesy. With the bow of his head, a clump of long hair abruptly fell from his scalp and glided to the ground. His grubby pupils followed its descent, allowing him to pluck the hairs out of the air before whisking away the remnants in his suit pocket whilst giving an apologetic, though somewhat amused smile. ”I beg pardon. As I was saying, it would be an honour. An agreement benefiting both our interests, yes. I assure you, my Prince; I know there are no limits when striving to achieve the desired results.” His gaze drifted to the wild lights and strange noises of the mortal world. At first, he emerged to a world very different to what he remembered. Buildings smoothed to clear mirrors, reaching to disbelieving heights. It was as if each was assigned a star which it one day longed to touch. He had no grasp at how far along the human race had come, but they were capable of making sights that made the flesh eater tremble. He had been unsure if he could adapt to the unknown. Then he brought a little finger to clear away the skin trapped between his teeth, thinking better of such notions. He was a fast learner. ”Now, if you’ll excuse me, my Prince, I must unfortunately cut our meeting short.” he shrugged sympathetically, as if the matter inconvenienced him also. In truth, killing Monroe had brought him a moment of fleeting joy, but finishing the job would calm his soul. ”Things to do, people to see. Blood to spill. You understand.” Again came the dramatic courtesy, clearly not required, but he knew a handshake was off the table. ”I shall return soon, to discuss these matters in detail. Until then, I must ensure the Sabbat are broken in body and spirit. I implore you to keep eyes on Hackney, my Prince. And have your men do what they do best.” he added cryptically before he limped in a semi circle to see himself to the door. How silly of me he paused at the thought, but did not turn. He did now wish to examine the disgust in the Ventrue’s eyes another time. ”My name...” Words meant little, and the name was only what could describe the fleshy bonds of the skinlands. He had omitted his mortal name, but remembered what was said at his creation. I am the Nagini, and you are...”Naga, my Prince. I am The Naga.” With that, he opened the door and hobbled away. |
| You think that when you die you go to Heaven...You come to us. | |
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