![]()
|
|||||||||||||||
| 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: |
| [ARCHIVED] - MiniQuest™: Into The Ruins; Leola Cira Mancini, Pádraig ó Dubhuir, Sawyer Flint | |
|---|---|
| Topic Started: Saturday, 10. August 2013, 00:05 (3,650 Views) | |
| Alarik | Saturday, 10. August 2013, 00:05 Post #1 |
|
"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.
|
| |
![]() |
|
| Replies: | |
|---|---|
| Vanth | Saturday, 9. November 2013, 22:23 Post #61 |
![]()
Neonate
|
Vanth had played enough computer games to understand that explosions + explosive barrels = BOOM. He'd stopped yelling and had stepped back from viewing the scene up close when the flames came, sending the Malkavian hurtling backwards and jumping backwards off the side of the roof. He landed without his usual grace, scuffing a knee against the pavement and holding his hands over his head as he felt the tug of the air pressure against his ears. Having a building between himself and the explosion had shielded him from the initial blast. But now an inferno was raging, and he could just barely keep from flying into a disorganised frenzy. The darkness of the night beckoned. He wanted to move away from the fire. Away from the Sabbat. Away from this place, which would soon be teeming with mortals. While fleeing, he headed for the perceived safety of the north, caring nothing for the direction that the newcomers were taking. The obfuscating cloak was wrapped around him like a security blanket, hopefully covering his retreat, which was noticeable only by the loudness of a boys' quickened footsteps as they echoed through the empty streets. |
| |
![]() |
|
| TapestryofShame | Wednesday, 27. November 2013, 18:27 Post #62 |
|
Queen of Love (wut?)
|
Well, that was...fucking...stupid. Holy fuck. Like, jesus christ. Thank god she'd already been in Celerity motion, otherwise she wouldn't have had time to step up into it. What the fuck had happened?! Who foiled her school girl punt manuver? That was gold damnit, pure fucking gold! She had Matt over her shoulder, and no companions in sight. Now that the fire ball had passed, and she had exited off side... she was fuming. Her eyes were as big as saucers, and her chest heaved with heavy unneeded breathes of savage fear. "Jesus fucking roosevelt Christ! Fuck me! Fuck you! Fuck you and this whole city and everyone in it! JUST FUCK!" She was talking to Matt, as she hoisted him up over her shoulder to carry him better and picked herself up shaking and angry as blazing hell. She looked back over where the path of the fireball had been, to assess the car. Was it smart to take the car out of here now? After that huge explosion would no doubtedly be drawing officials in their direction? Sawyer. She needed sawyer. They needed to slip underground and get the fuck out of there. "Sawyer? Are you fucking alive you cont?" She'd yell out, still for some reason speaking with her Welsh accent, her voice teaming with pissed offedness. She didn't call out to Paddy, because she had a gut feeling that he had a little something to do with that. Him throwing fireballs at her ass earlier and all. |
![]() "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. | |
![]() |
|
| Graham Mason | Wednesday, 7. September 2016, 21:24 Post #63 |
![]()
Steak Tartare (YODO)
![]()
|
This mini quest has been officially [ARCHIVED] Please, contact the Mods if it should be opened again for any reason. |
|
Oh no! My souffle! "Words", stress level, "MetaMason", "THEVOICEOFREASON" | |
![]() |
|
| 1 user reading this topic (1 Guest and 0 Anonymous) | |
| « Previous Topic · Archived / Finalized Quests · Next Topic » |











1:57 AM Jul 11