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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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Nights where ambition is handicapped by laziness; Open sesame
Topic Started: Saturday, 18. May 2013, 20:20 (555 Views)
Aguirre Efrain Maddox
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Mouse
* * * * *
Resting during the day was rather difficult to do at times, especially when one was very much anxious to leave their home and do something productive. However, productive was really a matter of perspective and depended on who was viewing their options. Aguirre really didn't know what productive was anymore besides maybe hitting the pub, having a wayward conversation with someone who actually had an opinion that was less than a century old, feeding, and going back home--and that was her perspective. Many times she had thought about going back to school, heading back to the southern States.. She speculated that maybe she would spend her eternity learning instead of simply taking up space at the bar. However, tonight was not the night; she wasn't in the mood to sit on the computer while things were happening outside. She would spend her insomnia-ridden days on the net instead, looking through Wikipedia articles and tapping her chin.

Something strange that she had come to learn about the UK very quickly was that, if you were in the city, cars were more of a nuisance than a necessity. Gas was expensive, people had intense road rage, it was all something that she didn't want to dirty her hands with. She chose to walk, or take advantage of the metro. She even invested in the annual passes that were available now. Tonight, though, there would be no use for any such card or the wait of a train; her small studio apartment was only a few blocks away from the Night Tripper and she could simply stroll there in as relaxed a state as she pleased.

This wasn't the best part of town, but children of the night rarely had to worry about muggers and those sorts of people. Desperate men had tried to mug her more than once, and while she always walked away unscathed, it never ended well for the other guy. He usually left with broken fingers or a clean cut from his own blade. These were never life threatening, of course, because everyone deserved a second chance; she simply wanted to put fear into them.

Aguirre strolled down the dark road on her way to the pub, dressed in her favorite ripped jeans, and thick black boots. She hadn't really given much thought to her attire other than that, and moved comfortably under a baggy Tool t-shirt and her precious leather jacket. Her dark hair fell around her face in straight waves and accentuated her pale skin and heavy, deep set eyes. She walked in an easy fashion, no real goal in mind tonight, reminiscing to herself about the last time she was mugged. It had been a younger man, probably mid twenties, who was scared shitless anyway. All he carried was a pocket knife, which was silly, and it was obviously his first time. All she had to do this time was walk by. The young man clearly had no heart to do anything about it. It helped that her Presence aided in the calming of the criminal. Muggings didn't happen all that often anyway; she could count on both hands the incidents she had run into while living in the neighborhood.

Aguirre had arrived at the bar, but before she went inside, she wanted to have a quick smoke; even in unlife, nicotine was a miracle.
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Mac
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* * * * *
She breezed by Aguirre in a rush, a rather quick glance spared for the girl who had the right idea. Maybe she could use one of those after... The smell clung all around her from fire spinning, infesting her tattered and ripped jeans and and creating an aroma of kerosene and camp fire. She flew through the doors of the bar like a dog on fire searching for a pool, her sneakers smacking against the grubby floors with a determination. She needed to wash the gross taste of camp fuel out of her mouth, and her flasks were empty and there was a need for a fix that wouldn't lend itself to finding a liquor store.
"Double vodka... and then another."
She smacked her poi strings on the bar top, throwing herself into a stool with a sort of fierce uncaring that tended to make people around her uncomfortable. She was beautiful... but in a dangerous, street sort of way. She was uncomfortably tall for most, with a mass of dreads that spilled down her back to her waist, some of which were burnt or lopped off.
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"You are so fucking Camarilla. All hope and optimism. Maybe we can mount a rescue mission, and everyone can have a cupcake party, and fly around on Pegasus unicorns pooping rainbows."
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Aguirre Efrain Maddox
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* * * * *
The night was nice; she had learned to appreciate the moon's cold glow in recent nights as much as she had once appreciated the sun's warm radiance when she was alive. It was unsettling at first, thinking about living in shadows for the rest of her rather unnatural life. It certainly wasn't what she had planned. However, considering the tame life she might have lived had she never been embraced, kids, marriage, all that trash, she was happy for death to have taken her while she was still young and agile. Living forever independently was much better than the reality of how fragile being mortal made a girl, and being tied to a littler of pups definitely sounded like a drag.

Speaking of a drag... she thought, taking a long, relaxing draw from home-rolled cigarette. over about the last decade she had taken to growing her own tobacco in a jimmy-rigged window box that she tended to when the sun finally came down every night. Tobacco needed light, lots of it, and moisture--both of which were provided in her current location. Living near large bodies of water often rewarded one's green thumb that way. However, unlike the swampy humidity that her home was normally composed of. her plants could only be outside toward the end of spring through summer or they would freeze and die. She wished she had been embraced somewhere else.

She stood comfortably, leaning against the old, chipped brick that was the outside of the pub, one leg resting on top of the other. One good thing about being dead? Her balance was actually spot on.

As she stood as a statue in thought, drawing idly on her cigarette, there was a small flicker of a breeze which drew her hair gently with it, the form of a woman speeding on by whose eyes caught hers momentarily in passing. She was incredibly tall, at least six inches more so than herself, and smelled of a campfire before the scent of the oil burned out. Her gaze followed the stranger until she was around the corner, at which point her body followed the object of her curiosity as well. She peaked through the currently quiescent entrance to see her parked at the bar, demanding vodka like it was her lifeblood. Aguirre licked her thumb and forefinger and squelched the heat from her half-smoked cigarette as she walked inside and came to rest at the counter, a bar stool between the two of them. She had just finished downing her second double as Aguirre ordered a sidecar from the bartender and gazed over at the parched person to her left with the air of mild concern.

"Hey, I think you singed your hair."
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Mac
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She waited impatiently as the bar tended pour'd her double vodka, careful to keep an eye on the pour and make sure it filled the double glass to the very top. She wouldn't be ripped off. Long fingers gripped it as she took it off the sticky counters surface, lifting it to her mouth to let it roll over her tongue. She closed the back of her throat, pressing her lips closed and swishing it back and forth like mouth wash. She was washing her mouth out with it, in a sense, cleaning the taste of camp fuel and replacing it with the beautiful sting of her favorite companion. Liquor. Swish, swish. Beautiful. No point in wasting it though, she wouldnt spit it out with the camp fuel she swallowed it. Afterall, its not like she could get cancer from it. She was a ghoul, she couldn't get shit from no one.. Long as she found herself sources of vitae. She took the second double from the bar man as he finished the pour, and downed it without the religious experience she had made the first shot. That was just to calm her nerves, now that her encounter with the Prince had finished and she'd walked off from insulting him without getting her heart ripped out. HAH. Bully for her. Dark hazel eyes came up to Aquirre as the woman spoke to her, a hand reaching around to feel the back of her dreads... She fished a bit, as there were quite a few and they fell so thickly.

"Awe, shit happens." She shrugged a little, then made a gesture to the bar man that she wanted another. The first four ounces were just burning in her belly, and she enjoyed the full burn that swept her from it. She looked over the Dark haired woman, a look like a predator judging if what it saw was prey or not... She was an unsettling woman, Mac. She made normal people want to skitter out of her way, and those that didnt usually had certain tendancies... certain wants, that only someone who reaked of danger and dominance could provide.
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"You are so fucking Camarilla. All hope and optimism. Maybe we can mount a rescue mission, and everyone can have a cupcake party, and fly around on Pegasus unicorns pooping rainbows."
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Aguirre Efrain Maddox
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* * * * *
One thing that would remain true until the place closed for good was that it was usually full of weirdos--and by weirdos, I mean the the undead or the nearly dying. This wasn't exclusively a vampire hangout, but it definitely wasn't exclusively human. She had seen some crazy shit here in her time, like that bar fight between the Malkavian and a fellow Brujah. Now, Aguirre certainly wasn't a racist person, and she actually really enjoyed conversing with the Madman when he visited the pub, but a wise person never picked a fight with a Brujah while his brethren stood naught three feet away at the counter. They were instinctively protective of members of their clan, not to mention that most of them were fairly intimidating anyway. The guy had had at least three of his friends with him; one might surmise they they were up to no good, if they overlooked the fact that it wasn't their business in the first place. In the end, the Malk kicked all four of their asses straight out the door--almost literally drop kicked them out. That was years ago, and it was still embarrassing for every other Brujah in the joint when those guys showed their faces. No Brujah worth their salt succumbed so easily to an ass whooping.

The next most memorable thing to grace her presence in this shitty British tavern was probably this girl. She was still alive--kinda. Ghouls weren't really alive from her past experience, more like floating along on the vitae of their keeper. However, she hadn't ever really met many of them, and this girl didn't look like she was floating along at all; she was more likely breaking through every figurative wall she could find just to make a mess. Anyway, that was cool. It wasn't like Aguirre would be the one to judge a book by her cover. She had lost the ability to judge when she went home with her Sire in 1984.

At the brush off of her rather cooked dread locks, a little smirk pulled up in the right corner of Aguirre's mouth.

"Aw, girl, you're better than me. I would be flippin' shit if my hair caught on fire." Her strong southern accent was relaxed; she wasn't easily intimidated, especially not by a ghoul, even though that thought really wasn't crossing her mind in a relative way. What was crossing her mind was what this stranger had been doing to set bits of herself on fire.

"Y'all look like you've had quite the night, and the night is still young."

The bartender brought her sidecar, pushing it across the counter to her. She sipped at it tentatively, wanting to make her favorite drink last a little while.
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Mac
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Had Mac seen that encounter, she may have for the first time since her disasterous freedom, wanted someone to be her Regent. Someone who could kick the ass of four Brujah without breaking a nail, that sounded like the kind of person Mac wanted to know.

"Catch fire all the time. Big fucking deal." She noted those little things about Aguirre that only she would give a fuck about. The accent made her grin a little, her own Memphis drawl hidden beneath her learning to 'fake' a plain, non descript American accent.

She didn't shoot this next shot, while four shots would give her one hell of a wicked rush... It wouldn't make her drunk. Adding more on top of that to quickly? That might push her past the limits she had developed, which were rather high tolerances to most substances she could get her hands on. The burning fire in her belly made a flip flop, letting her know she had a hunger on top of the need for drink. Was there a pizza parlor somewhere around here? She couldn't quite remember...

"You a cheesy hallmark card or something?" The night is still young. Jeeze. Like she hasn't heard that one before.
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"You are so fucking Camarilla. All hope and optimism. Maybe we can mount a rescue mission, and everyone can have a cupcake party, and fly around on Pegasus unicorns pooping rainbows."
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Aguirre Efrain Maddox
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The great thing about this side of town was that people didn't bullshit each other; no one really cared about small talk (aside from herself, she was doomed to be awkward throughout forever), they just went about their business and expected everyone else to stay the hell out of their way unless the other party happened to have money. This usually made it easier for Aguirre to fly below the radar, because it wasn't actually normal for her to approach people she didn't know. Sometimes she was the one being approached, but for the most part, she kind of hung out alone or in the small crowd she had established over the last twenty-something years. It wasn't abnormal for attempts to socialize outside of her circle to crash and burn in a spectacular fire fight, but she tried anyway, hoping that some day she would get the swing of it.

In this instance, she was definitely not getting the swing of it. Aguirre wasn't very good at handling people when they were on the offensive, and she felt like this girl was giving definite "I will drop kick you out of my life" vibes. About the only thing they seemed to have in common was that they were both American, and last time she checked, that wasn't something to brag about.

"Oh, cheesy hallmark card.. That's a first. I do make a pretty bad habit of being old fashioned I s'pose."

Aguirre said this stiffly, though she didn't mean to sound like an old grumpy man the way she did. She took a slightly larger drink of her sidecar, hoping that by filling her mouth with her favorite drink, she would eliminate the possibility of it spilling anymore stupid things. This wasn't going well at all. Where was she going in unlife if she couldn't even have a proper conversation with a ghoul?

I really should have stuck to my cigarette, she thought with chagrin.

She wanted to ask who the woman's blood donor was, but asking hey, who's your sugar daddy? would probably just make things more uncomfortable. Instead, she would go old fashioned--once again.

"Uh, anyway, my name's Aguirre"--Why would she care about my name? She doesn't even care about my existence, let alone my name--"what's yours? I haven't heard of you around here. Are you new to the place?"

You sound like the biggest bag of tools in the bar, she thought, mentally spilling waves of profanity over herself for her poor performance. Social anxiety really was a bitch. She even had a difficult time making eye contact.
Edited by Aguirre Efrain Maddox, Monday, 20. May 2013, 05:02.
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Mac
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* * * * *
She turned on her chair to give Aguirre her full attention now, as it seemed like the girl wasn't going to leave her alone without some convincing... Then again, maybe she was the kind of person that liked the 'fuck off' attitude that rolled off Mac. She got those people sometimes, the kind that never really took the hint and just kept hanging on. If she was going to hang on... Mac might as well get something out of the ride. The Vodka in her belly was warming her blood now, relaxing her and taking a slight touch of the edge of bitchitude off, putting her in a more 'friendly' mood. Friendly for Mac wasn't the same as it was for most folk... but it was the nicest she ever got to most people. She grinned at the girl, giving her a look over from top to bottom and back again. She wasn't bad looking Aguirre, not at all... Dressed a bit strange, but who wasn't these days? Mac looked almost like a bum with her ripped up clothes and half an ass cheek hanging out. She did that on purpose though, it was part of her image. The look she gave Aguirre screamed blood, sex, and all sorts of mischief. The seductive demenor she threw now almost like a thick aroma on the air, hard to resist.

She tried to catch Aguirres dark eyes with her own, a grin that made her look all the more dangerous crossing her face. With or without catching her eye's she's still make the implication, but if she did she'd also give her little 'request' the back up force of a bit of Dominance, Command the weary mind.

"You into me or something girl? The least you could do if you wanna fuck me sweet heart, is -pay- for my drinks. If not, fuck off..." Somehow, she managed to be poignantly rude and sexy all at once, in the way she spoke and poised that perfect body. Chest up, head tipped to let loose a length of neck to the view, eyes afire with a naturally devious nature.
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"You are so fucking Camarilla. All hope and optimism. Maybe we can mount a rescue mission, and everyone can have a cupcake party, and fly around on Pegasus unicorns pooping rainbows."
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Aguirre Efrain Maddox
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* * * * *
The thing about being socially uncomfortable was the fact that when one happened to have that particular trait about them, they really got used to being two things: alone, and quiet. It just made life so much easier to be that way when you weren't at all talented at keeping the company of others that once one got used to it, they also got used to forgetting what it was like to go after someone simply based on their physical appearance or activities. It wasn't a goal to get in bed with the first flaming woman you happened to see on the street.

Aguirre had never been able to enjoy being touched in the first place. Being touched was invasive, like the poking and prodding of a doctor (unless you were to have a close, intimate friend who knew you well). Even as a child she had run away from hugs, shrunk away from kisses, and really done everything she could to avoid being assaulted by someone else’s limbs—so when it was assumed by her strange counterpart that she was only talking to her for a lay, which was probably the farthest thing from her mind in that moment, it caught her a little off guard. Her counterpart was apparently open to the idea, but Aguirre had to stop a moment to contain herself from rolling her eyes. There was no need to be rude, after all.

At this point, the young Brujah knew better than to egg on this conversation. She had wanted to converse with, if not learn something interesting from, the girl sitting at the bar. She wasn't undressing her with her eyes, she wasn't even using the pickup lines she had rehearsed in case she ever met anyone interesting—she was just trying her damndest not to be the socially inept person she was, and that obviously didn't sit well with the dreadlocked woman.

She gave a low, almost unnoticeable sigh of disappointment. She usually enjoyed getting a fresh perspective from a new human or ghoul to come around the pub.

"I'm not into you or whatever. I'm not gonna pay for your drinks to get in your--well, I hesitate to call them pants, more like assless chaps. I'll take you up on that last part instead, and fuck off somewhere else. Enjoy that last shot."

The show was great and all, she thought, but I would rather just enjoy my drink outside.

Aguirre turned promptly after setting a bill on the bar--enough for her drink and the other woman's--and headed for the doors, taking her glass with her and pulling a new cigarette out from behind her ear, placing it between her downcast lips. She could feel the short temper of her clan coming out. It wasn't even really her temper, more like a sense of bewilderment--she remembered the days when a person could talk and it would be just that: talking. There were no undertones of 'hey, wanna go home with me?' or any of that shit, there were just two people or more putting their opinion in and taking in information from someone else as they took their turn on the soap box.

[ooc: Just writing in character. Don't hate me!]
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Mac
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Well, her drinks were paid for and that was enough for her. She actually felt a moment's ... regret? Maybe not quite that much, about the lack of the fun night with the American dead woman. Aguirre was gorgeous, and having so many shots in quick succession tended to bring out a little more of her sexual nature than she would otherwise give in to. She turned in her chair to watch Aguirre go, letting her eyes follow the girl the whole time.

"Cheers Gorgeous."

She called after her, a rather sadistic smile playing on her pointed lips. She loved to make people uncomfortable, chase them off. It gave her darker side one hell of a kick, especially Kindred. On the other hand she was bothered by the fact she couldn't tell what the girl was, Ventrue maybe? Didn't feel quite right... Maybe a malk? Well, that wasn't her favorite kind of Kindred to knock boots with anyways. Tended to leave a bad stain on your brain for the next while... When Aguirre was out of eye shot, she'd turn and give the Bar tender one of those looks she adored chasing people off with. Afterall, he was staring at her now. Everyone stared at her when she chased someone off, their eyes would always be full of piss and daggers. "whats her problem?" They'd always say.
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"You are so fucking Camarilla. All hope and optimism. Maybe we can mount a rescue mission, and everyone can have a cupcake party, and fly around on Pegasus unicorns pooping rainbows."
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