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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: |
| The Bear - Pt.2 | |
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| Topic Started: Tuesday, 27. November 2012, 15:28 (411 Views) | |
| Stomalkov | Tuesday, 27. November 2012, 15:28 Post #1 |
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Vasili had been stuck in that crate, which had more than just wood lining it, for the better part of a month - when he had emerged he was not only hungry, but pissed off too. Should have put something to eat in there with him - he'd remember for next time. He'd received a bit of info on the state of things in London and it seemed like the ideal place for him to be - conflict was in the offing and if there was a fight to be had, he wanted to be in a front row seat. The local Anarchs were lead by some woman called Nora Penvellyn, he didn't know much about her except that she had only recently taken over as the Baron, but he hoped to whatever gods were left that she was worth all this trouble. The problem was that when he had first emerged from the crate he'd been ravenously hungry - the ghoul who his contacts back in Europe had arranged to pick him up was the first of many little snacks that he'd had that night - when the hunger had started to abate and his rationality (which admittedly wasn't all that rational) had reasserted itself he'd made his way to the only place he knew of where there would be people who could get in touch with the Baron. Stomalkov now found himself in the middle of a warehouse - which was not looking too healthy any more. When he'd enquired after the Baron he'd been met with blank stares and evasive answers, when he persisted they'd tried to get rid of him - big mistake, especially with kine around. He'd lost it, completely flipped and the lid was off. With a bestial roar he'd literally ripped the man closest to him in two - as the ashes of the former kindred cleared the others started to back away but for most it was too late. Continuing to yell and bawl like a madman Vasili had started throwing punches, punches that were enough to kill a mortal and even fling kindred across the warehouse space. Then the guns had come out, another big mistake, ghouls and kine alike started popping away with their little snub nosed revolvers while the three remaining kindred either made themselves scarce or tried to come up with a plan to stop the hulking juggernaut that was tearing apart their warehouse. Within half an hour the warehouse was a wreck, shelving had collapsed into shards of metal and broken crates, the two cargo containers that had been there had been flung to opposite ends of the space leaving a trail of destruction behind them and there were bodies littered amongst the debris. It was a miracle that the police hadn't been called, but fortunately the neighbouring warehouses were run by the same people and both they and the local coppers were on the take. A dozen blood spattered holes marked Vasili's vest and combat webbing where he'd been shot, dozens of small scratches closed themselves up on his arms and yet for all the bullets and attacks that struck him he seemed unaffected. At one point a broken metal shelf support had become lodged in his shoulder - with a roar of anger he'd simply wrenched it free in a spray of blood and thrown it across the room so hard that it had embedded itself in the wall. Grabbing the prone body of one of the kine guarding the place he sank his fangs into the poor bastard's neck and drank his fill before tossing the unconscious man away - it was only then that silence struck the warehouse. The remaining ghouls and kine stood behind makeshift cover, pointing their guns at Vasili while Vasili simply stood in the midst of the wreckage, covered in blood, brick dust and dirt. "Where is the Baron! Where is Nora Penvellyn!" he roared in his thick Russian accent, blood spraying from his mouth as he spoke, he made a slow approach towards the line of ghouls and kine who started to waver in their resolve - for all their efforts they'd been unable to even slow this guy down. "Tell me, where is she!" |
Dol![]() Vasili Stomalkov | Theme Rebecca Lovelace | Vincent Tadeu | |
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| Renard | Wednesday, 28. November 2012, 04:33 Post #2 |
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Master Chief
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The struggle had been loud enough to warrant enough attention, or at least it would have if the Anarchs were as strict with the Masquerade as the Camarilla was. But as they weren't the point was almost moot. Almost because there were after all some Cammies still living in Enfield, and even if they had been expelled or left on their own accord, the most prominent vampiric citizen of Enfield still remained. It was this citizen who had been one of the first to arrive at the scene, or near the scene, remaining hidden from sight to do what his clan was able to do best. Watching, waiting, biding his time until the opportunity to strike presented itself. And it did. While the one-sided fight slowly came to a close or better started to look like some sort of mexican standoff - albeit without mexicans - he was already thinking about how to appear down there... The normal way, sudden appearance like Nossie clichee mandated, staying up here and let everyone in the area hear his words (although there were not many folks around, warehouse district and all that). Also, what mask would he use ? His own, Black, Wolfe, none at all ? Hard to decide. That guy down there didn't look as if he was beneath shredding the whole area... Hopefully not some berserk creep set loose by the Sabbat. Wouldn't be the first time after all... Well, as those guys were seemingly able and more than willing to utilize an arsenal big enough to overthrow a banana republic's government, someone had to step in before they decided to play 'Who's got the bigger gun ?' involving the police or military in the end. Damn, they could do this all night, provided they did it while firing into Barking or some similar location. But Enfield ? It would be a very cold day in hell before things would escalate further with him doing nothing about it. He had thought about taking the guise of the Baron herself just because he could, but that would have been quite... detrimental. But then, after having the building next to Elysium blown up and now after this, one could take it as evidence, that Miss Penwellyn was not quite able to handle her 'peers'. Well, he was glad to lend a hand with that ! Therefore, the figure that popped up on the top of one of the big garbage containers about ten metres away was simply his humble little self. Nora wouldn't be practical, Wolfe, well, could actually motivate the guy to go through with wrecking the place, and he also was Sabbat and Hal Black ? No, he'd save him for another time. "Who wants to know that ? Identify yourself and your allegiance or bear the consequences, Sir !" The drill ground tone was contrasted by the actual figure sitting there, wearing a suit that was telling that this guy was at least somewhat wealthy, his hairstyle and the moustache only added to that. He had a cane across his knees and was looking at the new-arrival curiously, his facial expression more benevolent and welcoming than fierce and hostile, another nice contrast on that. Judging by the accent, this guy probably was Russian. He wondered what it was with those guys. The last two Russians were Sabbat, true, but they had met their fate quite in a fast succession at the hands of the Camarilla, Sheriff and Archon respectively. He was curious if this one would last, and if he did, how long he would. Up to now, it was two weeks tops in his opinion. |
![]() Verba docent, exempla trahunt ! | |
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| Stomalkov | Wednesday, 28. November 2012, 22:56 Post #3 |
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((ooc: This thread was intended just for Nora and I but I'll roll with it this time around.)) Who was this little man to step forth and demand things of him? Vasili's rage grew, his requests had started off simply enough but when he realised that the ghouls were trying to give him the cold shoulder his temper had been lost to a sea of wrath. Now it had gone beyond simple requests, he had made his demands quite clear and was not about to back down - he would see the Baron or so help him he would tear down every edifice of the Anarch cause in London until he did. These suka had so far failed to impress, they were weak - resorting to firearms - weak ones at that, in an attempt to stop him, he had glanced off his injuries and like a bulldozer ploughed forward. Now there was this little man who spoke with such authority - but his words were empty to Vasili - behind them was nothing worthy of his respect and nothing worthy of fear. As far as Vasili was concerned this mudak could kooshi govno ee oomree. Turning to face him in his elevated position, even as pistol fire impacted ineffectually against his chest he pointed at the man, every muscle and sinew in his body tense - he was a juggernaut and these were mere insects buzzing around him. "And who the fuck are you osyalob?" his accent was thick with Russian, a heavy Volga accent bearing through to the front. Vasili never bothered to disguise his accent, there was no point - he didn't care for talk or what people who talked thought of him. This man clearly wasn't about to beat him down in a fight so why the hell should he give a shit? "Another zalupa here to try and piss on me? Idi na xuy husesos! I am here to see the Baron not you!" |
Dol![]() Vasili Stomalkov | Theme Rebecca Lovelace | Vincent Tadeu | |
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| Nora Penvellyn | Thursday, 29. November 2012, 00:51 Post #4 |
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Rebel With a Cause
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Flying would have been her first option in travel, but Nora's wings wouldn't have carried her here as quickly as she was apparently needed. From the anger and destruction that she heard in the background of the phone call she'd just gotten, shit had indeed most definitely hit the fan. She wasn't sure who this man that was demanding to see her was, or what he wanted, but she prepared herself for the worst as she sped on foot through the side streets and empty alleys of London. Upon arriving at the train yard, she stood before the warehouse, hearing the guttural roars and screams that seeped through the rusting steel doors and crumbling brick walls. Judging from the sounds that assaulted her ears, she was about to walk into a blood bath...but there was a second voice. She stopped dead in her tracks, trying to place who it belonged to, and trying to understand the situation altogether. Whoever was demanding to see her was very Russian, and very pissed off. She'd heard enough. Nora wasted no time flinging the heavy door open and stomping into the open expanse of the warehouse, or what was left of it, with an expression of irritation clearly painted on her otherwise pretty features. What she found was definitely not what she was expecting though, looking Vasili up and down with a quirked brow as he spewed blood and bile at the man that had spoke up in her absence. She didn't pay the other man much attention, considering the Russian's thickly muscled form blocked him entirely out of her view. "Well, you're just in luck." She finally said, resting her hands on her hips as she sized him up. She kept a good distance, having to physically look up at someone that had almost two feet on her made her feel so much more inferior then she felt like feeling tonight. She lifted her chin, not easily scared or intimidated by his hulking presence. "So, now that I'm here, I'd love to know who the fuck you are and what's so goddamn important that you saw it appropriate to start demolishing my territory?" she paused for a moment, waiting for an answer, although her patience was quickly fraying, "I'm waiting." She said slowly, her eyes burning red and practically spitting the same seething anger at him that he'd just showered everyone else with. |
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| Stomalkov | Thursday, 29. November 2012, 01:07 Post #5 |
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Stomalkov glared up at the man awaiting his answer for a few moments, but he didn't have time to give him what he wanted. The objective of his rampage had apparently arrived - the ghouls had stopped shooting and were standing about guns raised unsure of what to do now that the Baron had arrived. They all showed just how awkward and inferior they felt compared to the behemoth who stood dripping blood into the floor from tensed muscles that shined brightly with fresh sweat and dirt - it was hard to hide. Grinding his teeth as he heard the voice of the Baron behind him he made to spin around upon his heels, it was then that she struck him. He had been told that the Baron was a woman, a beautiful one at that, but nothing had prepared him for this. She was...she looked just like...no it couldn't be...she was... "Zoya...Moy vozlyublennyy. Eto bylo tak davno ... YA dumal, chto ty umer." the giant's eyebrows dropped, the tension in his face and neck vanish and for a moment - just a moment - he swayed on the spot, it was as if all the rage, all the anger and hatred within him - had been swept away. He looked almost human for those fleeting seconds, then before anyone could react he had closed the distance between himself and Nora, sweeping her up in his arms and slammed his way out the way she had come in - he burst into the night, trailing brick dust and chips of concrete from the hole he'd smashed in the wall where the door had been, Nikogda! Nikogda bolʹshe ya poteryayu tebya, Moy Zoya." Despite the hammering of his heavy booted feet against the concrete of the floor, despite the pure surge of raw and primal energy that exuded from him, despite the bestial way in which he drew unnecessary breaths he sounded all too human. Like a parent who had been reunited with a child they had feared lost, or a lover reunited with her soldier boyfriend after a war, he sounded soft - almost weak - except here he was, thundering off into the night, carrying a fully grown woman with him. |
Dol![]() Vasili Stomalkov | Theme Rebecca Lovelace | Vincent Tadeu | |
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| Nora Penvellyn | Saturday, 1. December 2012, 15:28 Post #6 |
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Rebel With a Cause
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As soon as he turned to look at her, it was as if something had come over him. All the anger that was boiling inside him seemed to instantly freeze in his veins. The look in his eyes was distant and overwhelmed. What was his problem? What the fuck was he saying?! ...And why was he coming closer? These thoughts circled in her head at a cataclysmic pace as he drew himself closer, and she considered backing away. No, she couldn't back down now. Her patience was clearly waning. "That doesn't really answer either of my..." Nora looked up to him, towering over her and making her feel incredibly small. The confusion that warped her expression was quickly replaced with one of surprise as two strong hands hoisted her off the floor and up into his arms, cradling her hard against his chest as he took off running. She struggled in his grasp, fighting to get out like an angry python wrestling with a crocodile twice it's size. "What the fuck are you doing?! Put me down! Fucking put me down, now! I'm not your cupie doll, goddammit!" She twisted and contorted her dead limbs in his grasp, kicking her feet against his arms and practically launching herself up and onto his shoulder as she finally caught a glimpse of the man that had spoken up for her, sitting atop a large shipping container and simply watching. "Find Sullivan O'Hanlon at the Tripper! Tell him--" She screamed in fury as he yanked her down and held her tightly against him once more, barreling towards the door she'd just come through not five minutes before and leaving a gaping hole in the wall in it's place. She'd since then given up fighting. Trying to get out of his grip was proving itself impossible and she was burning blood much faster then she planned to. She huffed, feeling defeated and hating every second of it. All she could see of him was his strong jaw and thick neck. She wanted to sink her claws into it. |
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| Renard | Saturday, 1. December 2012, 16:32 Post #7 |
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Master Chief
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Obviously the Baron was not particularly thrilled by the prospect of being Jane on the wrong end of an imaginary swinging rope. What a mess, and as by her final words, she seemed to want him to sort it out, basically asking him to find the anarchs and fill them in. Not that this would be easy without things like, well, the message she wanted him to convey. Therefeore, it would be guesswork and patching small clues together while trying not to muddle things up. He looked at the mess at his feet. Everyone was busy and took no heed of him. Most practical. With a nod in Noras direction, that could be a greeting, a farewell or an indication he had understood her request without telling her whether he'd go through with it. Well, you couldn't always get what you wanted. In times like these, stability and a certain predctability were not without merit. Things getting chaotic was sure interesting, but once or twice, he'd liked to have a break sometimes. With a flicker, he disappeared from Nora's sight and left the place, to set things in motion once again. In times like these, he slightly missed the Japanese... |
![]() Verba docent, exempla trahunt ! | |
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2:02 AM Jul 11