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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.

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[ARCHIVED] - MiniQuest™: Into The Ruins; Leola Cira Mancini, Pádraig ó Dubhuir, Sawyer Flint
Topic Started: Saturday, 10. August 2013, 00:05 (3,649 Views)
Alarik
"Papers, Please."
* * * * * * *
The rendezvous had been set to occur at the midpoint between utter ruin and mindless self-indulgence. To the north lay the officially designated disaster area, where ruined buildings, abandoned possessions, feral animals and hopeless people had been neatly cordoned off from the rest of London by miles and miles of blue-and-white tape, repeating POLICE LINE DO NOT CROSS over and over again. The disaster area was thus neatly compartmentalised, like a festering sore that had been covered up to give the appearance of good health.

To the south lay the riverbank and its pleasures. Though hundreds had died, millions of London kine still wanted to indulge their sinful natures on this cool summer night. Lovers walked along the embankment and people ate and drank in the open air, often to the accompaniment of music. The cause of the freak earthquake was the talk of the day, and every man now fancied himself an expert while repeating the talking points that had been going around on the news and on social media. Fracking was to blame, or so many Londoners had come to think.

There were good reasons to keep these people away from the disaster area. Damaged gas conduits might explode, and damage to the electricity meant that the entire neighbourhood would soon be cloaked in utter darkness. Abandoned pets had begun to fend for themselves, often dying, sometimes going wild and staking out territories of their own. The people were arguably worse: the line between disaster tourists and looters was thin indeed. Some of the people who snuck into the zone just brought some memento along with their pictures and video footage. Others thought it appropriate to claim the properties of people who 'wouldn't need them any more'. They looked the same, anyway, as the people who had lived in the neighbourhood, and were now being forcibly resettled.

The section of Portugal Street that lay beside the British Library of Political and Economic Science was a tranquil mid-point. The black Ford Focus with its darkened windows had been parked in the stately neighbourhood that bordered the London School of Economics. Summer recess had left the place almost as derelict as the ruins to the north, though this kind of abandonment at least bore the veneer of civilisation. The three people who approached the small car were thus easily marked out from the occasional overworked PhD student that might rush past, using the holidays to catch up on some actual work.

The key to the vehicle had been delivered in person to Sawyer Flint, who had been given the names of the other two operatives who had volunteered for this mission. The same courtesy had been extended to Pádraig ó Dubhuir and Leola Cira Mancini, though sans key. It was 21:20, the sun had been down for less than an hour, and they were supposed to find their way past the bobbies guarding the police line in ten minutes.
Edited by Alarik, Saturday, 10. August 2013, 00:37.
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Frederick
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* * * *
Pádraig had forced himself to rise early tonight -- a concession to necessity. For if he wanted to arrive in a timely manner and yet proceed with the necessary preparations for an expedition into unknown territory, he had to use time usually allotted to sleeping. This was because some magickal effects did not endure under the risen sun... so it was with the one he had prepared himself with for this evening. He had sat for half an hour within a chalked circle of mystic symbols, chanting continuously. Finally he had -- forcing himself to ignore the protests of the beast -- extinguished a candles flame with his bare fingers. It was, truth be told, not a ritual that would come in as terrifyingly useful, but one that, were it to be used, might save existences indeed.

And he had again lamented the fact that he had not yet found a ritus that was able to conform more strongly to the needs of battle. Maybe soon that would be the case. Hopefully soon, for if the exploration went favorably, there might be dire need for it indeed. But that aside he had dressed himself, looking somewhat professorish with the finishing touches. A dark green turtleneck shirt brought out the lightness of his eyes as well as the paleness of his skin. It also hid underneath a slim Kevlar west he had almost ha to pay an arm and a leg for. Dark cloth pants were both durable and nondescript enough that he could have been at home in the economics department as well as in some bar.

The Regent had stressed the importance of his mission. He would not dare to endanger it with such paltry things as the wrong clothing or a lacking amount of preparation.

As he arrived at the library, he held in his hand a bulging leather case that looked like it might hold the bane of any student -- a mound of freshly graded exams -- and carried himself with appropriate dignity. What the case held though was nothing of any graded sort, for it held a pair of military-style boots as well as cargo pants of heavy cloth. He had decide against donning them before entering the car for masquerading reasons. He hoped his co-workers on this trip had nothing against a bit of his pale flesh showing while he re-dressed himself. Also contained within the case were a piece of mirror, chalk, several plastic bags and other implements. Among them a small Polaroid camera and a short knife.

Yes, Pádraig liked to be prepared. What was, perhaps not quite surprisingly, missing from his get-up was any kind of firearm. Or any kind of edged weapon that might be directly useful in conflict. It was not that House and Clan did explicitly disdain these things, but Pádraig had no training with them, which would make him a liability should it come to actual fighting where such might be needed. Instead he would rely on the gifts of his blood. And blood was the last item hidden in the case. A bag of it, not more. It and the fact that he had drunken to satiation before coming would have to be enough firepower for his part of the expedition.

So he came, with his turtleneck and his leather case, looking much like a Professor, ignoring such paltry things as the destruction around his purported working space with the ease of the cerebral, and stood in the vicinity of the car. As if he was waiting for someone.
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Sawyer
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* * * * * *
The job sounded simple enough- reconnaissance in no man's land. Nothing he hadn't handled before. He could only pray it remained simple.

Sawyer was careful about his preparations for the night. Whatever happened, it would be his first operation in an unfamiliar city, his first chance to prove himself to the Prince... or to fail miserably, or to wind up dead.

He was dressed as usual- hoodie underneath leather jacket, jeans tucked into beat-up combat boots. Bowie knife, check. Extra blood pack, check. Keys to the getaway car, check. If worst came to worst, he had his dad's old Browning M1911 pistol on his hip, loaded and with a few extra rounds of ammunition. He shouldn't have to use it, but he was never one to bring a knife to a gunfight, if everything went south and things turned out badly. Though a pistol wouldn't faze a kindred much, there was always the possibility of other things lurking in Sabbat territory. He touched the scar on his forehead gingerly, remembering with a shudder the Tzimisce monstrosities that had devastated Atlanta.

Finally, Henderson had provided him with a map of Camden's sewers and catacombs, or at least a rough estimation of them. What he'd find underground on this mission might be wholly different, considering the devastation the area had gone through. He certainly hoped the maps would prove accurate. Sawyer never was much of a fan of surprises, and too many tonight could cost the Camarilla dearly.

He wasn't bothering with a mask right now- the area was nearly deserted except for the police presence, and he knew he needed to conserve vitae for whatever lay ahead. Instead, he stuck to the shadows, hoodie up, out of sight of any kine and hardly worthy of notice in the first place. No one bothered him; not a single student was out on the streets tonight, lending the area an eerie calm.

The Ford was parked where the Prince had said it would be, a nondescript black car. It would do. Nearby was a small, slight figure in black. Sawyer kept his distance, watching from the shadows between streetlights. As his eyes adjusted to the light, the figure crystallized into a bookish-looking man, bearded and bespectacled. This must be the Tremere.

"You O'Dweer?" He kept his voice low, eyes locked on the man.
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Frederick
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* * * *
Something was... there? His beast thought so, growling inside. A small growl it was, just some warning, as it was sated and lazy now. Not that the beast would ever be fully sated, but it was calm as these things went. Something... he thought after the growl, just as before... is there. He stood within the borders of one of the cones of light that came from the small hapless sun-imitations overhead. He had not chose full flight though. Half in, half out... Night Vision needs preserving too. At least for a bit. So he was half a shadow aming the shadows.

And someone was here. His hands tightened their grip on the heavy leather case in his hands... much heavier actually than one might think from such a small man carrying around. But then again weight could not be seen... only felt.

Like that thing nagging him from the shadows.

He turned slightly, one eye still looking at the car in question when a voice came from the shadows. >>You O'Dweer<< it asked in low and raspy tones. His grip tightened further, then loosened. For a second you could have seen the knuckles of his hand shining whitish in the light. Nosferatu... his mind thought... creeping around... scaring people. How cliché. It was an attempt at rationalization. Everything is good, well, wonderful. Were not going to run around with the Sabbat on our heels soonish.... not at all. Be angry with the Nossi instead?

"Yes, I am Dr. ó Dubhuir. And you might be?" His oxford English is impeccable. He seems a bit bigger now, his back straight, his tone that neutral distance between people who do not know each other. That middle distance. I hope you're Sawyer or however he is called. Calls himself. Otherwise you will probably die soon. Neutral was the best he could do. Friendly would be for people he had to kill tonight.
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TapestryofShame
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Queen of Love (wut?)
* * * * * *
She would arrive in toreador style, simply appearing from the darkness near them in full charcoal regalia. Celerity and the darkness covered her like a blanket, if anyone did see her pass she would have seemed only a trick of the light, the eldest of her abilities fostered under the hands of her second Regent. Her black doc Martins disappeared under sleek charcoal slacks, Armani and embossed with thin deeper charcol pin strips. She wore a matching business jacket, tailored to her form to create a more feminizing line of curves than truely existed beneath. Her hair was drawn back and braided down to her bottom, a few small stray curls loose around her face in a softening frame. The usual aging and sensualizing with make up, creating a beautiful 20 something's business like appearance.

She would slow so that momentum didn't keep her going, and then walk a short distance across the street to the car. She smiled, as always, a bright and welcoming sort of air around her as she shrugged the back pack she carried higher over her shoulder, few clinks from the contents within its black newly bought canvas.

"Signore's, Who has the keys?" A soft Italian accent lilting off her otherwise American voice.
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"I thought... I thought that Mexico had chased such grand musings from my heart. That I wouldn't attempt to live so bold and that I would slide away into shadows. Standing here... the silence is so loud with potential I am deafened." - Upon entering the concrete shell that would become, Muse.
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Sawyer
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* * * * * *
"I'm the muscle, doc. Call me Sawyer."

The Nosferatu emerged from the shadows, offering the Tremere a clawed hand to shake. Thank god he was the muscle; it certainly wasn't going to be his partner that would be brawlin' with the Sabbat tonight. Some Tremere could be damn resourceful in a fight, but the small man in front of him didn't immediately strike him as one. He sure as hell hoped this guy knew his blood magic well; Sawyer understood that thaumaturgy could be extraordinarily valuable in a pinch. The man's unfriendly posture, though, that was fine. Meant he was on his toes. They'd need every ounce of awareness tonight. Who knew what hell they'd be walking into?

The third member of their party arrived last. She was small, lithe, more muscle than curves. Dressed impeccably, she didn't exactly strike Sawyer as ready for combat either, but looks could certainly be deceiving. And besides, it wouldn't do to think only about worst case scenarios.

The Toreador greeted the pair of men with a brilliant smile. "Signores, who has the keys?"

Sawyer gave a short nod. "That'd be me, ma'am. I just hope one of y'all has a plan."
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Frederick
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* * * *
The Tremere it seemed was quite ok with shaking claws. At least he did so with the same air of nonchalance that had permeated the preceding conversation. If it was to be called such. His grip was firm but not crushing, short but not too short. His voice was curt as well, but not rude. "Charmed." Whether he actually was would probably lie in the eye of the beholder. Just a perfunctory greeting that was giving way to other things.More important things. His head swiveled around and focused on the Toreador woman.

She was dressed... not for war. Well neither was he, yet. But she looked like something that could have escaped from a militarily themed runway. Pinstripes indeed. And indeed Toreador. If he had not been told her heritage, this would have been his first guess.

As she spoke, his one eyebrow raised itself... questioningly?.. at her. "Good evening to you as well." He spoke then, with mild reproach. Both kindred were unknown to him, so introductions would have to commence at some point. But possibly not tonight.

He noted the exchange between the two kindred, interjected lightly: "Might we then proceed into the vehicle? It is so... open here." Complete with a light shudder, those words. Agoraphobic much, Professor?
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TapestryofShame
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Queen of Love (wut?)
* * * * * *
There would be plenty of time for introductions -in- the car. She did not want to linger outside of it. She didn't doubt the princes means of communication, and was able to determine rather easily that the two of them were her partners in civil crime this evening. The one was dressed rather smartly, professorial like. It was very akin to her own Tremere ... Friend? She supposed they could be friends, more accurately they thought of one another as frenemies. They'd always come to each others aide but they fought like cats and dogs. It happened when you refused to be embraced by someone, it threw a sour note into the relationship. At least Frederick didn't have a limp, then the likeness may have been to much for her to hold back a familiarity with quipped tongue as well.

"Buena Sera." She offered to Frederick with that sparkling grin, while waiting for Sawyer to open the car. She had been avoiding looking at Sawyer, because when she did turn her eyes to him she found herself staring at his unmasked Face. All pretense had fallen away from her own, that smile sliding into a child like wonder. Resisting the urge to touch was difficult, and she found herself sliding her hands into her pockets while she waited.

"You are the plan Signore. Tell me, how are your animalism skills?"
Edited by TapestryofShame, Monday, 12. August 2013, 16:29.
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"I thought... I thought that Mexico had chased such grand musings from my heart. That I wouldn't attempt to live so bold and that I would slide away into shadows. Standing here... the silence is so loud with potential I am deafened." - Upon entering the concrete shell that would become, Muse.
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Sawyer
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* * * * * *
He unlocked the car, settling in behind the wheel and waiting to see which of his companions would claim shotgun.

"Well, rats always are pretty good at talkin' to rats," Sawyer replied jovially to Leo. "I'm more into the sneakin' and disappearin' act myself, but I could help in a pinch. What're you thinkin', ma'am?"

He pulled out of the parking lot, carefully watching the scattered policemen patrolling the cordon in the distance. Streetlights revealed bits and pieces of Camden's rubble; the difference between the quiet college neighborhood and the shadowy ruins was jarring. Not for the first time, Sawyer wondered exactly what kind of disaster had happened here. He'd have to ask his companions once they had time to properly talk.

Until then, though, the mission had to come first. Sawyer wasn't entirely sure how the night was supposed to progress. He'd come expecting trouble, and his manner betrayed it.

"So how do y'all wanna handle these bastards? I figure subterfuge is the way to go; I ain't the best with alibis, but faces I can do; I figure I'll leave the charm and the talkin' to you, ma'am. Or Doc here can just do some heavy handed convincin' of his own if the regular kind doesn't work."

As he pulled up to the cordon, he brought up a more polished version of his regular mask; he could blend in as a student, an investigator, or merely as a driver, leaving the talking to his lovely "employer".
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Frederick
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* * * *
He enters the back of the car, leaving the front seat to the lady. The bag he put right beside him, opened its flap in preparation. He sat upright for a moment, closing his eyes, breathing deeply. A calming exercise. No need for breath after all when you're dead. The he began, even as the other two were talking still, so strip his loafers from his feet, put them together in an orderly pair near his feet. The car was not roomy, therefore he had to shift a bit here and there, concentrating on the movement of his body. He was shimmying out of his pants when Sawyer started addressing him. At least he thought it was he who was meant. That man was American surely, not only by accent but also by the rather irreverent way he was being treated by the Nosferatu.


Even as he pulled the urban-camouflage cargo-pants he had bought for this occasion, the many pockets being what had convinced him of the military garment, he answered the Nosferatu. It seemed to completely elude him that he was currently in boxers. "I would rather not resort to that. Kindred minds can be recalcitrant about such things." Or rather: There were kindred that could resist such efforts of will as he could exert upon them. He was closing the clasp on the pants and pulled out the heavy boots from the satchel. "I am sure that with Ms. Manchinis persuasive powers at your back my intervention would be one of last resort." Presence was rather gentle on the minds of the affected after all... or so he had read in one of his tomes. He hoped it was right in that case. Sometimes they were not, after all.

He strapped on the boots and proceeded to stuff the miscellaneous things he had brought into the pockets of his pants. A mirror fragment here, chalk there, bag of blood... it was as if he had stored a small warehouse of miscellany inside his satchel that was now leaning empty on the middle seat.
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TapestryofShame
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* * * * * *
She had planned on it being Frederick that got them through the lines, but perhaps the gentle pushing of presence could do the same as his Dominate in this case.

"Well Signore Sawyer, Signore Dubhuir ... Perhaps we don't even need to leave the car, if the cards unfold the right way tonight."

She opened her own bag, catching a glimpse into the back seat where Frederick was changing. She grinned a little, the sound of the zipper reaching into the quiet interior of the car as the bag split open. She then pulled out a small box, from which scratchings could be heard. She set it down on the floor by her feet, tapping the top of the box so the nice fell silent for a second intrigued by the noises beyond their little make shift home.

"Unfortunately, rats take up a lot more room. Perhaps Mice may be a decent substitute? If Sawyer here can slip into them and maintain himself well enough, we can drop them one at time for as long as he is able... And he can slip about gathering the intel that we require. The area has been devastated, rodents are rampant in the collapses building food sources. They're all flocking here for a feast in rodent heaven."

She then pulled out papers, smoothing them out on her lap pristinely.

"When the police ask, it's all for the Children. We are looking for two run away's whose parents were killed in the earth quake. They are reported to be in the area." A hand went to her heart in mock sympathies, as she held an official looking notice of entry from Child protection services. She did look the part in the business suit, as long as none of the officers were fashion smart enough to recognize Armani. She doubted it, most people didnt follow the fashion industry that closely and no labels or insignia were visible. but the dark charcol grey would help her blend in in the darkness of the streets if they were forced to leave the car.

"If they don't take the gentle nudge quickly, perhaps you'd be so kind Signore Dubhuir to just give an extra shove? Also, Before we even attempt it...could you Auspex to see if they're kindred or human from a distance? If they are, we should not attempt to go through here."
Edited by TapestryofShame, Tuesday, 13. August 2013, 17:33.
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"I thought... I thought that Mexico had chased such grand musings from my heart. That I wouldn't attempt to live so bold and that I would slide away into shadows. Standing here... the silence is so loud with potential I am deafened." - Upon entering the concrete shell that would become, Muse.
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Sawyer
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* * * * * *
Sawyer glanced over at Leo from behind the wheel and grinned. "I guess I can get the little guys to scout for us. Sounds like a plan."

Truthfully, animalism wasn't exactly his speciality. He supposed that didn't matter, though- it should be simple enough sending the mice out to gather intelligence, and certainly safer than venturing blind into the depths of the unknown. He was a little disappointed that Leo's plan didn't involve getting to kick any Sabbat asses, but who knew what surprises his rodent friends might find?

The trio pulled up to the cordon, and a heavyset policewoman stopped them, a frown on her face. A handful of other guards stood nearby, looking at the vehicle apprehensively. Sawyer rolled down the window and gave a polite smile. "Evening, officer."

"This area's restricted as a matter of public safety," she barked back at him in a no-nonsense tone, shining a flashlight into the car and inspecting the faces of each of the three kindred. "What's your business here?"

Sawyer looked over at the Toreador expectantly. Time to see how well she could spin a story.
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Frederick
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* * * *
Pádraig just stared at her, at the officer and activated the powers of his blood. It was, perhaps, not the easiest thing to do -- Auspex worked much better with individuals whom you knew... as did many other such powers. But he hoped he should be able to ascertain her nature and, if anything went wrong, to be able to intervene. He could have tried touching the officer for a quicker point... but that was not possible in present circumstance, so he settled for the power of his mind. Additionally he attempted something which was a bit more... dangerous. He amplified his hearing a bit to check whether the people around the cordon actually had a pulse. But this was almost a futile thing since the car was still running... albeit in a more subdued fashion. [[Auspex 2 / Auspex 1 (hearing)]]
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TapestryofShame
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* * * * * *
"Can you get them to use Auspex in Mouse mode?" She knew it was possible, as this wasn't her first mission with an Nosferatu. That was one of the reasons she had been rather excited to find out her counter parts, between the three of them... Well, this should be an achievable venture. The Prince has said this was a non engagement assignment, unless absolutely necessary. While she also had the desire to get out of the vehicle and get into the fray, for now they needed to follow orders. If push came to shove, they would engage. For now, safety first.... Safety first! To late, they were up in the grill of the police line. Didnt she just say they shouldnt go through till they knew if they were human or Kindred? Well, better just get to it!

She lifted her papers from her lap, leaning out her window with them as she plied on the charm as she sought the grumpy woman's eyes. If that failed, well, they had Frederick in the back seat. He could punch the woman in the face with Dominate if they needed, but the subtler route would be preferred for covert success. She also toed the bag underneath the dash in front of her, lest the machete handle sticking out the top was caught in the light, and the bottle of vitae. This way, the black bag covered it in the shadows below.


"Requisite to detain two minors in the area Ma'm, Child Protective Services. Their parents...were... in the shake. Well, anyways. They've been spotted in the area trying to return home."

She held out the papers, and threw on the thickest coat of charm she could muster. (Presence-Entrancement). Frederick would also find an overwhelming heart beat in the Kindred in the front seat, certain mortal vestiges still clinging to her form into eternity, the baby faced characteristics she displayed had more than once caused certain questions to arise around the issue of her being properly dead or not, several times mistaken instead for a ghoul. It was easy enough to explain when she was asked, or when one knew her clan who tended to be the most human like of all the Camarilla lineages.
Edited by TapestryofShame, Tuesday, 20. August 2013, 05:16.
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"I thought... I thought that Mexico had chased such grand musings from my heart. That I wouldn't attempt to live so bold and that I would slide away into shadows. Standing here... the silence is so loud with potential I am deafened." - Upon entering the concrete shell that would become, Muse.
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Alarik
"Papers, Please."
* * * * * * *
An aura of sickly light green shades interspersed by dark blues swirled around the heavyset policewoman when Pádraig ó Dubhuir first set his eyes on her. When Leo mentioned that they were looking for lost children, though, these colours faded in favour of pink shades lined with threads of silver.

"Kids these days...", she said gruffly, thinking about the antics of her own troubled teen son when she stepped back and waved the car through. "Be careful out there - and get em home safe", she called out when the car pulled up, a space having been created as the two other police officers pulled some of the fencing aside to let them through. She was, without a doubt, human, her breath clearly audible in the cool and quiet night.

The roaring of the engine as it pulled up made it impossible to tell whether the other two police officers had pulses. One of them, an artificially tanned deputy with a very pronounced nose, did appear extremely suspicious of the car, trying to stare at Sawyer in particular through the darkened glasses, aura swirling with shades of brown, black and purple. That ones' eyes followed the car even as it drove off again into the darkness.




Though the disaster zone had been neatly cordoned off with tape and metal barriers, the geography of the area was not so clear-cut. A stuttering traffic light that was located about fifty feet in was surrounded by electric currents that ran above ground from a patch of broken wiring, marking one of the places where electricity had been cut off. Beyond that place, there was only darkness, chased away fleetingly by light protected at the front of the small car.

The main street leading north had been swept up to facilitate access for emergency services and their vehicles. Some of the side streets had not yet been cleaned up in this manner, the fallen brick and concrete from scarred buildings at times resembling makeshift barricades.

The place seemed devoid of human life, though a sudden flash of movement on the left-hand side proved these appearances a lie.
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TapestryofShame
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Queen of Love (wut?)
* * * * * *
As they crossed the lines, she slipped the paperwork back into the backpack and drew out the Machete to keep on hand, lest it be needed. She wasn't wearing a dress, so her usual thigh strap with small blade wasn't an option. She felt -naked- without it's presence, but the cold grip of the machete offered it's own small comfort. The mice at her feet scuffled in their box, having decided to fight for a moment in the shreds of paper they were living in.

"We need to find a place to pull over so Sawyer can drop into a mouse skin...Wait, What was that?"

The question was directed at Signore Dubhuir, who was stepped up in Auspex and would have the best senses and abilities of them right now. Her hand tightened on the door handle as they went gentley through the wreckage, feeling the tension begin to build and the fear fuel that place in her chest. That feeling had been vacant from her life lately, and it was as welcome as an old friend. Most people found fear oppositional to their interests, an unwelcome and avoidable emotion... but she had been raised on it, constant and ever present for so long that it was such fuel for her fire.
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"I thought... I thought that Mexico had chased such grand musings from my heart. That I wouldn't attempt to live so bold and that I would slide away into shadows. Standing here... the silence is so loud with potential I am deafened." - Upon entering the concrete shell that would become, Muse.
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Frederick
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Whispered Poison
* * * *
How nicely their ruse worked, except for that man in the background... yes, except for that. It might have been better to not have Sawyer sitting at the wheel that moment, for he was dependent on his masks after all. And all mirrors had to break as the Malkavian would tell you -- the Clan of Oracles really was a fount of knowledge -- a very dangerous one to tap.

He was concentrated upon the abilities of the blood, only half there... still working on seeing and hearing. On feeling the truths that were not obvious to others. The surroundings were not of primary interest for that job. "Mr. Sawyer, please turn off the car." He said with rather strained voice. So loud the roaring of the engine... it was deafening to his ears, hurtful. But, as I have said numerous times, Clan Tremere has a rather intimate relationship with pain. Otherwise most blood-magic would be impossible to produce. Yes, their magic was build on blood and tears, literally.

"There were no Kindred, but one may have been a Ghoul with my Discipline. He hated on sight and seemed focused on out friend from the sewers." He informed the others. The last sentence was pronounced fully free of judgment. The fact that Nosferatu warrens were known to lie in rather inaccessible territory seemed not to faze the small-framed academic at all.

At the noise he fully concentrated upon it, trying to wrest its identity from the darkness. Maybe it was just a rat after all.

ooc
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Irish, English, Greek, Latin, Scottish, German
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Sawyer
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Friendly Neighborhood Vampire
* * * * * *
"I didn't think the guy looked friendly," Sawyer commented, a note of uneasiness in his voice. "Guess we'll have to be prepared for company, Doc."

He pulled the car over a few blocks past the checkpoint, out of sight of the officers, and turned off the engine, ears twitching as he tried to make out any usual sounds drifting through the near-silent night. Only the faint scratching of Leo's mice stuck out.

He took the box from her, opening it and lifting out a single white mouse while the others futilely attempted to climb the cardboard walls.

"Hey, little guy," he cooed, looking into its pink eyes and cupping it in his hands.

let go run let run run run no stop let go run bad thing run from bad run ru-

Quiet. Calm.

The mouse froze, stilled by Sawyer's thoughts, and the Nosferatu stroked the rodent's soft little head with a delighted grin. "There ya go, little guy. Ain't you cute with that little twitchy nose. You're just the cutest little guy I've ever seen!"

Setting the mouse on his shoulder, he opened the door, pausing to look at Leo. "We'll switch seats, if that's okay. Anything goes wrong, we'll need to make a clean getaway."

Petting the mouse absentmindedly, he got out and glanced around the wreckage of Camden, seeing no sign of whatever had moved earlier. Still, he had the nasty sensation that unfriendly eyes were watching him. Suppressing a shiver, he sat down in the front passenger seat as Leo stood on the other side of the car. "Okay, Doc, ma'am. Let's see how this goes."

He set the entranced animal down in the rubble, looking down at it with a bit of pity. And then, as fluidly as a diver leaping into a pool, Sawyer gazed into the mouse's eyes and slipped into its skin.

OUT OUT OUT OUT GET OUT GET OUT MONSTER OUT-

Not now, buddy. Too late for that.

Light as a feather, Sawyer scrambled away on panicked paws and shot into Camden's darkness like a bottle rocket.
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TapestryofShame
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She would have perfered to Signore Dubhuir to identify what the fuck was moving out there before getting out, but she wasn't going to leave Sawyer standing outside the car by himself, especially after his absolutely adorable display of mousey attention. The Toreador had a very hard time keeping her game face on, in the sight of so very much adorableness. A Nosferatu getting all cooey to a mouse? It had squeezed at her heart in such tender ways she couldn't help but grin.

"Be sure to look for anything... Suspicious and remember it's location. In case we need to further investigate something tonight. Signore Dubhuir, are you much of a fighter? Or would you prefer to drive?"

She slipped out her own side of the car, back pack slipping up over her shoulder so that it was on hand in case she needed it during the shuffle, Machete tightly held. Then she was side stepping around the front of the car, waiting for the creepy man in the back seat to alert them to anything suspicious as they exchanged places. Her ears were on high alert, eyes piercing the darkness as she kept a look out. This was why she was dressed as she was, in the dark charcol suit, to blend in with the shadows and rubbley terrain. She just camo'd in style instead of hideous military gear, from city to shadows. She didn't need to get back in the car however, as sitting in a drivers seat locked behind a metal door made her feel far to at risk if something was prowling about outside. It would come right through the glass, and she'd be trapped... She'd rather be able to -move-. A sardine in a tin can was to easy pickings if they had already been found out. She would wait until Dubhuir told her it was safe, and picked his role. She could drive, or she'd stay on point outside the car door.

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"I thought... I thought that Mexico had chased such grand musings from my heart. That I wouldn't attempt to live so bold and that I would slide away into shadows. Standing here... the silence is so loud with potential I am deafened." - Upon entering the concrete shell that would become, Muse.
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Alarik
"Papers, Please."
* * * * * * *
The Irish Kindred's sensitive ears could make out the sound of quickening footsteps in the darkness. Tap. Tap. Tap tap tap tap tap tap taptaptapTAP. Thunk. Gone. The sound was evocative of jumping, though it was somewhat difficult to tell without a visual reference. In this urban, multi-level environment there were plenty of vantage points from which they might be watched.

Sawyer's experiences as a rodent, meanwhile, yielded something more potent. Whiskers vibrated attentively as he could smell something - something that was unmistakably the scent of human blood. It left a trail on the wind that a mouse could easily follow, its senses developed like a Kindred, though lacking the predatory tastes and instincts.

The scent-trail led away from the car, round the corner of an apartment building that seemed mostly intact. The door to a lobby of concrete and white, oft-cracked bathroom tiles had been left open, and it was there that the mouse stumbled on the origin of the smell, which mixed in with the stench of alcohol.

An human man with a long, unkempt beard of browns and greys lay on his back, eyes vacant and wide-open, his mouth fixed in a silent scream. The little moonlight that fell on his skin showed that it was unnaturally pale - a condition readily explained by the several holes that had punctured his face and neck. Broken beer bottles and the disjointed angle of the man's extremities were evidence of a struggle. A struggle that he had lost.

Warm blood still leaked from a few of the punctured holes - evidence of a feeding that had been interrupted.
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