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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: |
| Grand Chasms trace the sky; Chronicle: Four Nights | |
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| Topic Started: Wednesday, 25. September 2013, 05:39 (3,317 Views) | |
| Leslie | Friday, 4. October 2013, 20:52 Post #21 |
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Flemish... furry... flirty... feline! (YODO) Perfection Purrs!
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Her eyes jumped from one to another while she listened to Flint her eyes fell upon his face tracing his features. He looked cute and so did the woman next to her. Though this Maddox girl had more the look of a lost sweet puppy. She had something in her eyes which made Leslie feel like she would drown in them. With a little nod but a huge grin she giggled at Flint. "Suspiciously well informed? Weird that you think that because I thought this person has publicly called out to every shadow of the night for his little act of mutiny he wants to start soon. I watch the news and when the birds sing I listen." The girl shook her head and ignored the Tremere who had meanwhile fallen back in the chair. She kept her gaze fixed upon Flint. The words from the Tremere reached her mind but she did not look at him. It was her sign of fear when she couldn't look someone in the eyes. His threat found a way to creep in her and a low growl emitted from deep within her belly. The growl was more animalistic than a sort of growl a non Gangrel could do. It betrayed her clan immediately. "Leslie. Nothing more, nothing less. Gangrel puppy." It sounded surprisingly calm even though flashes of red had covered her eyes for a few seconds. In the corner of her eye she noticed his hand sliding towards hers. Quickly she slammed her hand on his. "Don't. Even. Think. About. It!" she pulled her hand away and placed it on her lap to join her other hand. She hoped the surprise would put him off guard. "I did not touch you kind sir but you needed a seat so I gave you one but let us rewind our introductions because on these grounds you are a guest so please is there anything I can do for you Capes? It surprises me that you choose one of our finest pubs to meet each other." Were they scared to be on their own grounds now a Kindred had threatened the Prince? What were they doing here? What did they want? Most importantly what sort of information could she get from them? |
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English Dutch French German Demon: Leslie's ghoul cat! IA Business
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| Aguirre Efrain Maddox | Tuesday, 8. October 2013, 03:09 Post #22 |
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Mouse
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The look Aguirre received from her Nosferatu counterpart could only be responded to by a clueless eyebrow raise and a slight shrug. She didn't know Leslie, though had probably seen her around if she frequented the Tripper. Even so, she felt immediately on edge as the crude little man seemed to sober up and become offensive in a whole new and more knowing fashion. Threatening to behead an Anarch on their own turf was a dangerous game indeed, especially when he had a target painted on his forehead as it was. The Gangrel woman seemed able enough to defend herself, and though she once again assumed Aguirre was Camarilla, that didn't warrant hanging her out to dry. "First of all", she said, directing a sharp glance at Leslie, "We ain't all capes here. Second," caramel-colored pools flitted to the warlock with dead seriousness, her tone low and walking a fine line between a civil reminder and mirroring his own nastiness, "I don't think you quite remember where you are, Mister. This ain't no Cammie establishment, you ain't playin' on the home field. Matter of fact, that business with the Eye, one would think you'd have the sense to hole up nice and safe like. Maybe you need some direction. Recommend you take a second look around, 'cause we don't all work for you, and we ain't gonna deal lightly with such hostility from a not-so-high and mighty guest." The jab at his obvious Napoleon complex was accompanied by a wolf's grin. "Now why don't we find you somethin' to bring that cute red hue back to your ears, eh? We ain't nothin' if not hospitable." |
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| Nora Penvellyn | Tuesday, 8. October 2013, 03:24 Post #23 |
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Rebel With a Cause
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Nora had listened to everything that was transpiring silently from the comfort of her private booth, sipping on a short glass of her own variation of a dirty martini, spiked with a shot of tweeker juice. So, not only did she have one cape, but two? Fan-fucking-tastic! Brilliant! Fucking brilliant was this evening! And that annoying pain in the ass brat she'd already literally hung out to dry once before? FUCK FUCKING YES! To: Espen Schroeder I need you and your boardroom swag. Get your sexy ass to the Tripper. FUCKING NOW. The partition that separated her from them stood open and unattended this night, though she was still out of view and virtually not there from their line of sight. She wrapped her cloak of obfuscate tightly about her and slid off the cushioned bench seat she'd been kicked back and lingered closely, watching the events transpire with a smirk on her lips. Jesus, who the fuck died and made this bloke the fucking King of the North? What was that? Oh. That's right. FUCKING NO ONE. She could not fucking STAND fucking Capes coming onto her 'turf thinking they were better then the surroundings they'd bloody well chosen to fucking surround themselves with. Leslie decided to be stupid as usual and fuck with the one kindred that most kindred deliberately avoided not fucking with, Aguirre and her friend try to diffuse the situation, Merlin gets pissy, and... well, where does this story usually go when Nora's lingering silently? Shitty? Maybe. Depended on just how pissed off she decided to be with this fuckface that thought he could come to HER FUCKING BAR and tell HER FUCKING BITCHES how the game was going to be played. "Yes, I'd love to be introduced to this bloke as well, Mr. Sawyer." Nora said finally, as if she'd appeared out of thin air. Her arms were crossed tightly beneath her bust, her bright blue eyes imploring the Tremer brazenly. The look that was plastered across her face was not a pleased one. |
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| Sawyer | Wednesday, 9. October 2013, 03:49 Post #24 |
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Friendly Neighborhood Vampire
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"Aguirre!" He said in a vain attempt to rein her temper back in. You just couldn't threaten a primogen like that! It was one thing to stand up to the guy and entirely another to string their current location up like a noose around O'Dubhuir's neck. After all, even anarchs were supposed to show a lil' bit of fealty to dangerous and slightly unbalanced leaders, even if they were 'capes'! But speaking of dangerous and unbalanced leaders... Oh. Oh great. His blood ran cold as a very distinctive lady emerged out of thin air in a trick he knew quite well. Doc wanted to burn the fuckin' bar down, some puppy wanted to rip the Tremere's throat out, and now the baron came out of the woodwork? What wonderful timing! He'd hoped he could keep this evening nice and simple in the wake of Blackwood's chaos- pass along a warning to a friend, maybe figure out if the anarchs knew anything that the Nossies didn't. He'd trusted Aguirre to keep it confidential, and she'd held up her end of the bargain. The Tripper, however, seemed to have a way of attracting way too much trouble. He certainly hadn't signed up for this. Would she even let them escape? He'd really prefer not to linger when this situation just kept getting uglier and uglier. After all, he was only a poor little sewer rat dragging around a very angry and very drunk midget. They were hardly a shining example of Camarilla diplomacy in action. But things were never that easy, were they? "Ma'am," he said with the verbal equivalent of a facepalm. "I'm very sorry for any trouble Dr. O'Dweer is causin' in your establishment. And, uh, we will certainly be goin' now." He gave the small man a pleading look. "Won't we, sir?" It seemed like the primogen had sobered up slightly for the sake of his self-righteous anger. Hopefully that meant he'd be a little open to reason and would see the necessity of gettin' the fuck out of Dodge. |
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| Frederick | Tuesday, 15. October 2013, 00:23 Post #25 |
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Whispered Poison
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Boil... freeze... boil. Of he were Pastor Kneipp, he would tell you that that was good for your health. But oh my he so very much was not a mild mannered German Pastor who had re-discovered the healing powers of heated and cooled waters. He was a rather small Irishman and as he opened his mouth again, this fact came as reminder to them all, to all of them listening through the words. Like the sea they flowed around them, crashed over their heads... or just were a quiet lull, as the first ones were to... "...Miss Maddox, I do regret my impoliteness. A am even sorrier that I will have to impugn further on your well-deserved sense of the proper. A graceless affair..." He trailed off, his eyes searching for Sawyer. Just one look. Be ready. So cold the warning burning there, it might just have frozen the air, had it not contained an equal amount of... fire. Fire burning in those eyes. "Leslie." The word was a demand. "...self-admitted puppy of the Gangrel Clan..." That dared touch my flesh unasked. LOOK AT ME!"go stand in that corner." And even if she did not... the fury was there. So plainly to be seen. If she had any brains at all she would go. "You must be Miss Penvellyn..." QUIET, SO LOUD THE QUIET IN HIS VOICE. "... who just as it happens ignored my attempts at contacting you...after my choosing. So I'm going to make this easy on you." Almost regretful. No boardroom swag required. "No wonder you don't know how to pull your head from the fucking inside of your ass. Its so far up that even I can't see it from down here." Pause. Quiet pause. Turned around to face her, unimpressive in his height. "My name is Pádraig ó Dubhuir, by Will and Word of House and Clan, by the Will of my Peers and under the Grace of Prince Blücher of Clan Ventrue, PRIMOGEN OF HOUSE AND CLAN TREMERE." Loud that, roaring out of the man with a fury that belied any pretension of calm in the little man. "And now take your disgraceful spawn and leave, before I burn the eaves of your house around you..." Crackle. Crackle? There was orange light shining from his palm. Crackle. Fire. Fire born from blood. "... and spread your ashes as a warning in the streets; for it was your ineptitude that let that awful person plaster his Threats all orderly lives into a purportedly secure intranet. IT WAS YOUR FUCKING HEAD UP YOUR ARSE THAT GOT US HERE. SO TAKE IT FAR AWAY." Again the power of his blood ringing command in his voice. Crackle goes the smokeless fire in his hand. His eyes are burning with loathing. If you want to make an unhappy Irishman... take his booze away. |
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| Leslie | Wednesday, 16. October 2013, 12:06 Post #26 |
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Flemish... furry... flirty... feline! (YODO) Perfection Purrs!
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Leslie only had time to nod and stare shortly at Aguirre. So the girl was Anarch then why did she bring Capes here. Although the Flint character wasn’t too bad. He seemed quite fine and could be good company if it weren’t for the interruptions of the Tremere. Though the first interruption came very suddenly and from Nora nonetheless. The presence of the Baroness made Leslie go silent and she seemed to slide a bit down not really hiding from Nora but certainly giving a very submissive vibe. Nora was someone she loved and feared at the same time. While her gaze was fixed upon Nora her mind was compelled to listen and do something else. The Tremere his command came out of nowhere and it forced Leslie to get up and stand in that corner he had showed her. Once in the corner however her mind settled down again. She banged her head against the wall and growled before turning back around to face him. What was she doing? She didn’t like this at all and when she heard how he spoke to Nora her anger flared up but there was something holding her back from pouncing on top of him. Light! Orange light! In his hands. FIRE! She had seen this once before and it had pushed her into Frenzy. She hated fire, feared it more than anything else in the world. Frenzy was the thing she wanted to avoid by all costs. Nora would tear her apart of she frenzied in the Tripper. Leslie lowered herself in a crouching position. She kept her eyes on Nora waiting for any command and trying to ignore the fire. She could feel her Beast stirring inside. Walking circles in its cage, waiting to be released. The entire time a low almost inaudible growl was rumbling from deep within her. |
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English Dutch French German Demon: Leslie's ghoul cat! IA Business
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| Espen Schroeder | Saturday, 19. October 2013, 03:41 Post #27 |
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Blue Blood Rebel
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Espen frowned as her phone went off blindly groping for the device that she'd left on her desk beside her, her eyes trained on the television showing the news about the Eye. She unlocked it and tore her eyes away from the screen for a few moments to read the text. To: Espen Schroeder I need you and your boardroom swag. Get your sexy ass to the Tripper. FUCKING NOW. Espen sighed and quickly turned off the television and stood tucking her gun into the back of her trousers and slid her tablet and business journal into a dark leather satchel and shrugged on her black jacket and buttoned it after slipping her feet into a pair of heels. To: Nora Penvellyn Of course, I'll be there soon. Espen exited her car and straightened her jacket and adjusted the placement of the strap of her satchel across her body before locking her car and heading into the Tripper. The blonde definitely prided herself on her "boardroom swag", however she was slightly miffed by the sight of Nora and Aguirre with these other two, one with a fire burning in his palm. This wasn't the company she'd expected to be called for when she'd received Nora's request for her presence, but it was obvious that at least one of them were Camarilla, so perhaps she was needed as the level headed Blue Blood. She turned her head at the slight sound of growling and raised a brow as she saw the Convertee, low to the ground growling like a wild animal. Oh yes, level-headedness is definitely something we're a bit lacking in at the moment. Thankfully Leslie wasn't her problem. She strode over to Nora and took a calm stance beside her. "I'd like to point out that this is a public venue, and a mortal could walk into this bar at any moment. With that said," She nodded at the flame flickering from the Tremere's hand, voice cold and even but polite, "Please put that out and sit down, so we can talk out whatever the problem is civilly, or kindly leave the establishment and go about your business elsewhere." |
![]() "If the day ever comes when you're tempted to sell me out, remember this: Whatever their price, I'll beat it. I like living." -- Tyrion Lannister Espen: #6699CC - Beth: #CC0099 | |
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| Nora Penvellyn | Thursday, 21. November 2013, 02:34 Post #28 |
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Rebel With a Cause
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"... who just as it happens ignored my attempts at contacting you...after my choosing. So I'm going to make this easy on you." Nora looked at the back of Padraig's back incredulously. He sent her a fancy, rather pointless piece of paper stating his contact information that she'd more then likely never fucking need could be obtained through the office of the Prince. The chances of their paths crossing were more or less as parallel as two paths could be. He never requested a response or anything of the sort, so what the fuck had his panties in a wad? "A pointless piece of paper directing me to your Prince's secretary. What did you expect back? A fuckin hand--" She was cut off by his tirade of words, jumbled insults, curses, and psychobabble bullshit. He turned to face her, the slits of her pupils narrowing icily on his impish form. With every stupid fucking ignorant word that he spoke, the corners of her mouth were slowly tugged by the sneer, baring her long canine incisors at him furiously. She huffed. She puffed. She closed her eyes and fought with every ounce of her being to fight the Beast that was pounding against her ribcage, roaring for release, demanding his head, aching to sink their claws into his fucking throat. A tremor slithered down her spine, willing her to let go, shaking her hand off the limb she was hanging from. A low growl rumbled at the back of her throat, Espen's presence like a cool breeze that blew over the stoking flames that were threatening to rage inside her. A sudden burst of light and heat had Nora's murderous red eyes snapping open and locking on him and the flame burning in the palm of his hand. A defensive predator had been summoned. His willful threats and commands only spurned her, made it that much harder to keep the shaky grasp she had on the ledge. But she was stronger then this. She was smarter then this. She was better then this. Another shiver rippled and quaked through her body, her Beast adamant on taking the reigns. She closed her eyes again, shaking away the annoying image of his glaring face and focusing on the fresh blood in her veins. She ignored the eyes that bore holes into her, tuned out the annoying voices, and let the world drop away for twenty seconds. It was so quiet she could hear the smack addled blood rushing in her ears. It was glorious. Invigorating. Inspiring. Looking to Leslie, who was crouched in the corner, she turned and began walking away, weaving through the maze of tables and chairs at a Zombie's pace. She stopped a few feet away from Leslie smirking, unbeknownst to the others that she had her back turned to, "Wanna see a magic trick?" She asked the pup, a cold twinkle in her eye. She burned the blood she'd so evenly spread throughout her dead muscles and limbs, vanishing in thin air as she moved with inhuman speed across the bar to the lone pool table in the back corner opposite them. She snatched a pool stick off the wall, gripping it tightly in her fists, bringing it down over her knee with a sickening snap as she broke it in two. Her murderous red stare burned into him from where she stood, her Beast beginning to scratch and claw at the surface once more as her blood boiled just looking at him. She willed more of that wonderful junkie juice to cross the space between them, appearing before him once more in mere seconds. Her lips were still quirked into a dark smirk, a make-shift stake poised in each hand, "Hadouken this, bitch," She snarled, bringing down one fistful of jagged, wooden rage on the center of his chest, followed quickly by the other. Rule number four: Double tap. |
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| Sawyer | Saturday, 23. November 2013, 08:23 Post #29 |
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Friendly Neighborhood Vampire
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Oh, shit. Ohshitohshitohshit. Sawyer wasn't sure at what point the situation had gotten so violently out of hand, but damn, the primogen had a fireball problem. He sure wasn't eager to see the Night Tripper go the way of the Camden ruins, but the situation sure seemed to be headed to a dangerous place. With every hurled insult the Tremere threw at the baron, Sawyer's jaw dropped lower and lower. What a goddamn idiot, a nasty little child. But where he offered words- okay, flames as well, but hopefully he'd keep those damn things to himself- the baron was not, apparently, feeling talkative. When she turned her back to the primogen and walked away, shoulders stiff and expression unnervingly blank, he felt like he could exhale for the briefest moment. She was backing off, she was giving up on the situation, she was- muttering something? "Wanna see a magic trick? Oh. Bad. He knew a thing or two about that sorta trick, given that a disappearing act was one his clan was especially fond of. He didn't know what the fuck sorta Gangrel she was- sure, he'd heard talk that there were some of their kind that were goddamn urban ninjas, but he'd never actually seen one. But as soon as she faded from his mind's eye, he knew that something was about to go horribly wrong. And taking advantage of his own uncanny ability to poof, he dissolved from view and sprung into action, darting towards the Tremere's side. Not quick enough to stop her, he realized with a jolt as she speared the man with both halves of the snapped pool cue. But she'd have to go through him if she wanted to harm another hair on the primogen's thick, abysmally stupid head. Sawyer had no doubt that she would go through him, happily, and it wasn't as if he was willing to brawl with the baron herself for Sir Paddy's honor. He was loyal to the Camarilla, sure, but he wasn't completely suicidal. All he could hope for was that he'd provide a long enough distraction for her to calm down and find some reason and mercy. And if not, well, her smashing his face in wouldn't exactly ruin his looks. He inserted himself between them, pushing O'Dubhuir's prone form behind him, right hand wrapped around one of the make-shift stakes and ready to pull it out from the man's chest if he got even the slightest chance. "Ma'am," he said, his voice quietly even. "I'm afraid I can't allow you to continue attackin' a primogen," he paused and glanced at the still man, a slight bit of disdain in his blue eyes, "regardless of the fact that he's an insufferable lil' twat." He tried to stay perfectly calm, perhaps the only calm person left in the damn bar. He sure as hell wasn't going to let a full-blown diplomatic incident happen on his watch if there was even the slightest chance that he could diffuse it. For a split second, his eyes darted to meet Aguirre's, giving her a look that said only stand by and be ready, before meeting Nora's rage-filled gaze. "Please, ma'am. Tempers are runnin' awfully high tonight for everyone. The primogen was out of line, offensively so. But y'all ain't each others' enemies. Save that for whoever's blowin' shit up, okay? Let the prince deal with Primogen O'Dweer." This was a gamble, a pathetically stupid one. No one had ever claimed that Sawyer Flint had an ounce of common sense, but for what he lacked in wits, he made up for in courage- or perhaps just nerve. With a gulp, he steeled those nerves and stared her down. |
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| Sullivan | Saturday, 23. November 2013, 15:36 Post #30 |
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Ancilla
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He'd not been here in a long time. It felt strange - with his eye still in the tail-end of healing, it was difficult not to see everything as if it had a strange, short-haired coat of fur around the edges. He saw Nora, as beautiful and savage as she'd ever been, and he saw one hell of a scene - but if Nora had ever been anywhere normal, it'd been because of him, so he wasn't surprised. But, the last few weeks - maybe even months, time had seemed irrelevant when having to get by on scattering earth-rats and other vermin - had done something to him. He felt it in his chest, a strange tautness waiting to snap. Sullivan had always held his own leash well, but he had emerged from the earth as somethign more - and less - than he was before. He wasn't certain if he liked it yet. "Not ta interrupt ye, my pearl - serious business an' all, this - but does this fine establishment still serve whiskey? Only there ain't been much call fer it down in tha ground." With that unmistakable Irish gravel and wild snarl combining into the Black Lion's voice, he appeared in a strange haze, phantom heat-distortion revealing his presence and the ruffled mane he'd been marked with notably possessing a thin strip of scar tissue where the bullet had missed his eye proper - but not by much. Glancing between Nora, the standing young punk and the staked vampire, Sullivan chuckled. "Looks like ye sided with tha wrong Irishman, Lick." He held his fists taught, keeping his beast in line - but it didn't help. Part of his humanity had died a slow, painful death as he'd scrabbled around in frenzied hunger, hunting and healing and barely remembering each night. A small part had died so that the whole could live - and Sullivan wasn't certain it was worth it yet. His eyes - as half-functioning as one of them was - were hungry. Barbaric. In that moment he knew for certain that part of what had made him strong was truly lost. He didn't want the staked man - that was Nora's. But the one still standing? He felt his fists clench harder as the urge to clamp them around the other kindred's throat grew. He wanted to tear off his fingers and place them on the opposite hands. he wanted to tear his spine out through his mouth. Fixing the lucky man with a killing glare, Sullivan lowered the malice in his features to glance at Nora, "I'm glad yer still in charge, lass. Yer a sight fer sore eyes." |
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| Aguirre Efrain Maddox | Saturday, 23. November 2013, 17:42 Post #31 |
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Mouse
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Oh good. Fucking Nora. Because she always made the situation better. The Brujah didn't particularly like watching that vanishing act being used to invade the conversation. Even if it was sarcastic, at least the little fucker, the 'big wig', had given an apology. Now that Nora had decided to go ahead and stick her nose in, a fact that effectively made her want to shrink back into her mouse hole because fucking poof! and there were those incredibly intimidating ice blue eyes staring at her Nosferatu counterpart, her ever-present hip attachment, calling him Mr. Sawyer like she had any clue who he was beyond what she'd heard in passing. There had been no sparks before, no fire, no need to fight really. She had hoped that by reminding the Primogen whose turf he was on, perhaps he'd wisen up, find another drunk to drink, or at least stop talking down to Sawyer like he was his personal lap dog. Maybe stop staring at her own chest. Nora making her presence known just made everything so much worse. Aguirre's eyes couldn't help but go wide when all the shit seemed to hit the fan so fast--the Warlock's switch flipped with almost no provocation, as though the Baroness being there was reason enough to lose his cool. Sweet Jesus, that woman attracted trouble like a god damn bug zapper, and with the combined efforts of both her own and Sawyer's crap luck, as well as the decidedly bad choice she'd made by meeting up with her closest friend here on Anarch grounds... Honestly? They could have anticipated an unnecessarily awful night. She should have seen it coming. Leslie moved to stand in a corner across the room per the Tremere's request, and Aguirre couldn't help but raise a sharp brow. Her first impression of the confrontational girl wasn't a good one, and she sure as shit didn't appreciate being assumed a Cape, but it just wasn't right to get into another person's head like that unless it was to diffuse the situation--not make it worse. Doing what he'd done in front of Nora? Fuck, she was pissed, what the hell happened to just having a private chat? Did the Baroness even know why Sawyer was here? He'd passed on a message to Aguirre that the Anarchs weren't supposed to get, and here they were, still talking to Sawyer like he was somehow responsible for the miserable little leprechaun, like he was somehow the root of all the problems. Fire ignited in the Primogen's hands, and Aguirre had to grapple with her beast in a momentary panic--she could handle lighting cigarettes, with a great measure of self control and a real addictive personality, but the crackling of previously nonexistent flames made her want to get out of dodge before the whole place came falling down on them in a mess of flame and tangling kindred, both aching to let their beasts tear one another apart. Idiots. Numb skulls. The only kind of people who resorted to violence first over words were the kind who didn't know how the fuck to use them. For Sawyer's sake, they needed to get the Primogen out of here before they all became dog chow at the hands of Nora. The blonde from that night in Brent showed up, jumping probably as soon as she was called, and thank God for a voice of reason. It was, however, a voice that would go unheard--Because as soon as Nora turned her back, Aguirre knew something was off. The Baroness apparently had too much pride to fully comprehend that she'd already called some small amount of diplomacy by asking Espen to join them... Because suddenly, and with little more than the indicator of pulling that vanishing act again, the Irishman found himself in a very uncomfortable position with two lengths of wood through his heart. Rending it into uneven pieces, more like. It was at this point that Aguirre found her lanky body flying from the booth, landing with steady conviction next to Sawyer, only to find herself looking into the eyes of the Lion man from the tunnels so many months ago. Nora's mate. The willowy brunette's own copper eyes gazed into the cold, sanguine eyes of the man--that look made her uncomfortable, and shit, so did eye contact; however, the way he looked at Sawyer, as if he wanted to take him apart in only the most creative ways, only brought Aguirre to a more defensive position with a hand on the Primogen's jacket. Her feet fell so that she was just in front of the Nosferatu, no more than an inch or two, out of instinct more than purpose. She was ready to get the fuck out of there, to burn blood and burn rubber, and fully expected Sawyer to follow behind her for his own good. That was if she couldn't somehow convince the Gangrel just to let them leave. Sawyer tried to reason with them, but they didn't know him, aside from the fact that he was a Cape protecting another, less civilized Cape. They didn't know her either, really. This was a long shot. She could feel her beast rumbling again in the pit of her stomach. It was scared, ready to tear it's way out of this hole whether it meant actually tearing pieces from the flesh of the Baroness and her lover or not--and if they laid a single fucking finger on Sawyer, they'd find their hands missing before they had time to curse about it. "That's enough. We're fuckin' leavin'. Back the flyin' fuck off and it's the last you'll see of us in your bar, we'll get the Warlock out of your hair," she offered in a humorless and absolute fashion, eyes flitting from Nora's to Sullivans and momentarily wavering on the cowering cub across the room. There would be no negotiating this. Either they were allowed to walk or they had a big god damn problem. Aguirre had more loyalty to Sawyer than she could ever muster for a sect. She didn't need a sect when her friends were a salt and pepper combination of Camarilla and Anarch anyway. If Nora chose to see this as some kind of betrayal? Whatever. Fuck her. All the Baroness had ever done was make her feel small anyway, and scared, and she was done with being scared for herself just because others chose to put on such an intimidating facade. She had more important things to worry about now than the plans this train wreck of a woman had for the Tremere Primogen, like making sure Sullivan didn't rip the man she felt such affection for apart. She'd fight if that motherfucker wanted a fight, but she didn't particularly feel like being torn to pieces by a couple frenzying Gangrel tonight. Edited by Aguirre Efrain Maddox, Saturday, 23. November 2013, 17:46.
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| Sullivan | Saturday, 23. November 2013, 18:24 Post #32 |
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Ancilla
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Sullivan took a step forwards, putting himself infront of Nora. "No - that solves nothin', an' it leaves all of us runnin' around tryin' ta solve the same issue seperately." For all his sense - what remained of the man who'd descended beneath the earth could apparently still talk, if not necessarily control the predator's stare that emanated from his mangled grey eyes. He jerked his head towards Leslie and continued, "Cub - ye've been walkin' an' talkin' up here an' I haven't. Speak up and say what's goin' on." He folded his arms to hide the flexed to breaking point fists, his gaze Aguirre as hungry as it had been on Sawyer, but not intentionally so. "Frenzy does a funny thing to our lot. Apparently my eyes're still fucked goin' by yer reaction, though maybe I'll never get 'em back the way they were. But ye leave here now, an' that leaves us all with the same problem and fewer allies ta solve it. So, before we toss the stuck pig out when he could solve a few issues... What the fuck did I miss?" He tried not to look Nora's way - the Black Lion had been away from London before. Of course, this time he'd had little choice, but Nora wouldn't see it that way - at least not initially. Whatever they'd had... Well, it wasn't gone, but it was certainly knocked down to the foundations. They could rebuild, better and stronger, use the scars of old wounds to build a stronger London and a stronger them. Or he could back away. Ultimately, he imagined what'd surprise her most was that it wasn't Nora who'd ruined him. The Black Lion'd done that all by himself. He still fel the instinct to assert dominance - even over Nora and Leslie, not just the two he didn't know well, if at all. Sullivan wasn't certain if that was one of those inconveient hidden marks of the Beast, the kind that only hides until it forces you to kill a man, or whether this was just who he was when the humanity took a vacation. He'd alwasy thought he'd know for certain, having been there before... But then again, he couldn't blame his subconscious for trying to forget. |
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| Nora Penvellyn | Saturday, 23. November 2013, 21:53 Post #33 |
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Rebel With a Cause
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"Are you fucking kidding me?" Nora hadn't let go of the stakes, her red eyes cutting up to Sawyer with raw vehemence from where he stood behind the compromised warlock, "You think I'm gonna let this fucking cunt go just so he can--" "Not ta interrupt ye, my pearl..." Time stopped. The air fell still. She knew that voice. God in Heaven, did she know that voice. When she was beginning to fear she'd forget it, here he was...to remind her. Nora rose to stand her full height, staring with wide eyes over Sawyer's shoulder at the ghost of a man that was her mate. Or used to be. Fuck, she never knew anymore, not when she assumed he was in the goddamn ground for good. "Yer a sight for sore eyes." "That's enough. We're fuckin' leavin'..." "...What the fuck did I miss?" Too many voices... Too much noise... She couldn't focus. She couldn't pull her shit together. She couldn't fucking stand this bullshit. "Shut up... Everybody just shut up... Shut the fuck up!" Nora shouted, looking like she was about to have a mental break down. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and looked at her hands, trembling with the aftershock of what she'd done. Fuck. FUCKFUCKFUCK. Godfuckingdamnit. Why? Why did shit like this always fucking happen? Why did it always come knocking on this fucking place's goddamn door? "No," She stepped around Sullivan, looking at the couple with a hard gaze and rasping voice, "You are not leaving with him. Not yet." She said this as if that decision at least was final. As for all the other ones, she didn't even know where to begin. She had a stranger in her courts that was defending the instigator. One of her own was siding with them. She couldn't decide which was more disappointing; Aguirre undermining her for a fucking CAPE of all fucking people, or just... It was all fucking disappointing. And infuriating. She moved away from them. She needed space as she paced, trying to make sense of all this. What the fuck was the goddamn warlock even babbling about anyways? Besides threatening to burn the eaves of her house around her and spread her ashes as warning in the streets... "You know what?" Nora said to herself, whipping around on the group, her eyes settling on Aguirre's wiry frame, "I can't fucking believe this right now, Aguirre. What the fuck are you doing?" Was that actually...hurt that lay dormant in her eyes? She seemed more legitimately upset then anything else now, "What are either of you fucking doing?" She just couldn't wrap her mind around why the fuck they'd be defending someone who basically just stated they were a goddamn terrorist, "The motherfucker threatened to burn all of this to the ground and make an example of my fucking ashes, and you say he's not a enemy," she scoffed, the frustration, the stress, it was all weighing down on her, "Sounds like a pretty big fucking enemy to me. And you don't even care, do you Aguirre?" Her eyes found the Texan's again. "You don't give a shit that your own fucking home has been threatened, let alone your fucking Baron, do you? And it's all for...? What? Your friend here?" She just shook her head and looked away, her eyes finding Sullivan's, "And then there's you," her tone was still as disbelieving as it had been with the others, "Who's supposed to be fucking dead or something," There was a hitch in her voice, sounding near tears, "But you're not." She threw her hands up in defeat, wrapping them tightly about herself and trying to find some kind of fucking explanation...solution...something! ...for it was your ineptitude that let that awful person plaster his Threats all orderly lives into a purportedly secure intranet. "What even happened?" She asked, "I don't even know what the fuck it is I'm being blamed for. Threats plastered everywhere? Secure internet? What even is..." Her eyes found Espen's, but she didn't even know what to say to the Ventrue at this point. Words were beyond her. It was moments like this she wished Vry would just materialize out of thin air and fucking stake her ass. His hands were the only one's she'd willingly die by. Any others... Well, they all could see how that threat went over. |
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| Espen Schroeder | Sunday, 24. November 2013, 00:10 Post #34 |
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Blue Blood Rebel
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"That's enough. We're fuckin' leavin'. Back the flyin' fuck off and it's the last you'll see of us in your bar, we'll get the Warlock out of your hair..." Espen's muscles went stiff with the words that came from the Texan's mouth and her words were soft and vicious as she crossed her arms over her chest, "Well aren't you a pretty little snake in the bushes?" This was not a moment to stand up to Nora and throw out statements like that when you called yourself an Anarch, actually this wasn't a time for anyone to make statements like that. She turned to Leslie after Sullivan had asked for her summary of events and asked with steel in her tone, "Lock and watch the door if you would. I think Nora and Sullivan would agree that the Tripper is closed until we've settled this." She removed her jacket, hanging it on a chair along with her satchel, and neatly rolled the cuffs of her shirt to her elbows. She settled across from Aguirre and Sawyer next not far from Nora as she demanded silence. Her beast had been riled by the chaos of the past few moments, but she was the calm in this room and she was determined to remain that way. She listened closely to Nora falling into a position of adviser for her Baron, All of her questions are one's I'd liked answered as well. When Nora met her eyes she let her features soften and said softly to the distressed Baroness, "I'd like to recommend a course of action, however first, take a few deep breaths please, and remember that no matter the situation I've trusted you before and even though I am now thoroughly convinced you have the essence of Adolf Hitler inside of you, I still trust you with my life and Beth's, so..." The Ventrue turned her gaze to the Primogen's staked body and his little guardians, "I don't believe either of you were in anyway responsible for the Primogen's stupidity in threatening the Baron in an Anarch venue, or even in how he wandered into this establishment. Thus, I would recommend that you tell Nora and I what it is you are here for." She pinned both Aguirre and Sawyer with her hard gaze as she growled, "And I would stress that if you give us bullshit about how you," she pointed at Sawyer, "came here just for a girl's night with her," her gesture fell an Aguirre, "then I'll move that all three of you should be hung up in the Box, and Leslie over there? She can tell you both how much character you'll build in there." |
![]() "If the day ever comes when you're tempted to sell me out, remember this: Whatever their price, I'll beat it. I like living." -- Tyrion Lannister Espen: #6699CC - Beth: #CC0099 | |
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| Sullivan | Sunday, 24. November 2013, 12:50 Post #35 |
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Ancilla
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Sullivan raised an eyebrow - he couldn't clearly tell whether he'd been included in Espen's three, or Leslie - and he wasn't fond of either outcome. "Seeing as ye aren't makin' it clear which it is you're suggestin' goes in the Box 'tween me an' Leslie, I'll make something clear. Ye try ta put her in there, I'll stop ye - I promised her that much. Ye try ta put me in... There ain't a corpse in the room that can take me. Wind yer neck in, Legal." He moved his bestial gaze from Espen back to Aguirre and the Nossie he'd never seen before - the one that had very nearly triggered the Beast in him. "Beyond that, though, she's right. We diffuse this situation the right way, now, or... Well, there's a lot o' other potential outcomes, but lookin' at it from yer perspective, I wouldn't be a fan of 'em." The Irishman remained oblivious to the bestial, starving-predator glare that was in his eyes as he passed his gaze over all of the other kindred taking part in this shambles. He looked as a lion in a cage - unsatisfied, constantly hungry for the hunt, ready to rip, tear, ruin or eat anything that set foot in his path. To think that he had once thought his mane, when parted and combed the right way, was more understated than he'd initially figured. Despite his Beast pacing hungrily - in a cage it'd broken out of before at that - Sullivan tried to be as peace-friendly as he was able, though how well that would work wasn't really his call. That said, he wasn't sure what was his call to make these days. "As absent as I've been and as ill-informed on current events as I am, the Anarchs were never about getting stepped on. Whatever it is yer scared of, lad - and ye are scared, it's written all over ye - ye came here ta share with Aguirre. Nights're won or lost on information." |
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| Sawyer | Sunday, 24. November 2013, 23:47 Post #36 |
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Friendly Neighborhood Vampire
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Sawyer's face hardened further, eyes impassive, jaw clenched. There was no reason the situation should've gotten to this point. No reason for the primogen to act so impulsively, no reason to threaten a baron in her own domain, no reason for that baron to snap on him like a rabid dog. Did none of them know the value of diplomacy? Thankfully the two newcomers were willing to string together words, to try to diffuse the situation. Sawyer was grateful for that, at the very least. "You bet your ass I'm scared, but sure as hell not of any of y'all,' he said, head raised high and proud, no trace of a flinch in his features. "No, I'm scared of what'll happen if you lay another finger on the primogen here. You don't know what you're gettin' yourself into, ma'am." He glanced around, taking notice of Sullivan and Espen, who seemed to be Nora's lieutenants. What a strange duo those two made, flanking either side of the baron, one a refined, businesslike blonde, the other as Gangrel as they came, apparently just arriving after clawing himself out of a grave. "I don't know who either of y'all are. But what I've got to say is for the baron, and her alone. Would've been a hell of a lot easier if Aguirre had just been able to pass you the damn message, but apparently this night's just determined to make everythin' as complicated as possible." He loathed the idea of airing secrets he never should have been passing in front of so many strange ears. He knew there'd be consequences for doing so, potentially quite dangerous ones. He could save his own ass and stay quiet, sure, but where would that leave O'Dubhuir? The full measure of the situation was something Nora needed to hear- and saying it was his only chance at getting the primogen out of here tonight in one piece. "The London Eye? That wasn't Al Qaeda or whatever fuckin' kine assholes the news folks are sayin' it was. It was a guy who calls himself Mark Blackwood, some kinda kindred terrorist who infiltrated CamNet not too long ago and posted a whole damn manifesto. Most of the thing was devoted to tryin' to convince folks to rise up and murder the prince and the primogens." "I'm leading the investigation on this guy, but so far it ain't goin' so well." His frown deepened. "We don't know much about Blackwood yet, or his motives, or his modus operandi. But we know that the last time he popped up, he was bein' backed by the Anarch Free State to destabilize the Cam in San Francisco." Then, with biting harshness, he got to the point. What was his interest in protecting the anarchs? Well, that should be obvious, seeing as that interest was currently protecting him, to the point she'd even taken a verbal lashing from Rageface on his behalf. But he'd do anything to see her a little safer- and this would help, wouldn't it? "So tell me, ma'am- what's it gonna look like if the first primogen to be harmed is harmed by the baron herself? How long d'you think it'll take before someone puts the dots together- and puts 'em together wrong- and says, 'Blackwood's bein' backed by the London Anarchs, just like he's been backed by anarchs in the past'? Do you wanna risk that?" He raised his hands in a universal gesture of 'I come in peace'. Shaking his head, his voice became gentler, trying his damnedest to appeal to her better nature. If she even had a sane, rational side. She must have one if she'd gotten this far, right? "This ain't about your grudge. You're a leader, ma'am, do what's best for your people. Getting all of 'em in hot water at a time when the kindred of this city need each other the most is not what's best for them. Because I can tell you one thing for certain, ma'am- this Blackwood situation is gonna get a hell of a lot uglier before it gets better. Uglier for all of us." Unity, compassion, moderation. All good virtues. But Nora Penvellyn sure didn't seem like a virtuous woman, and Sawyer was laying his ass on the line for the slimmest of hopes. |
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| Sullivan | Monday, 25. November 2013, 00:57 Post #37 |
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Ancilla
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(Background music of the 'Great Speech of Sullivan: Half The Man) Blackwood wasn't a name on the Irishman's radar, but his information had always been very localized - and when it came to information, he trusted the word of a Nosferatu. Ontop of that, it reminded him - a lot - of another yank that'd sauntered into town and almost blown the Anarchs sky-high along with the building opposite Elysium. As much as he'd grown to get along with him, Sullivan was glad that Rob's temper wasn't in the room - his own was yo-yoing enough as it was, they didn't need more fuel on the fire. The problem with the Rob comparison, of course, was that going by roles, it put Nora on the edge of doing the very same thing as Rob nearly did. If she did anything more to the staked sonofabitch, then every Anarch in London would be sharing a mass grave with her. After a long pause, his feral eyes carefully watching everyone in the room with the eyes of a hungry wolf, calm and assessing, but taut and ready to spring beneath the surface. Despite Nora being the Baron, Sullivan opted to risk his own neck and took a step further forward, placing his back infront of the Nosferatu boy who'd grown one hell of a spine in the past few minutes. He pre-empted the thoughts he knew would cross Nora's mind with a quick burst of speech, one of his clenched fists easing into a peaceful, splayed outward open palm, "Don't panic - I hung up my 'turn coat' fer good a long time ago. But they're right - this time. We ash him now, we lose it all." He made the effort not to say that Nora specfically lost anything - he wanted to help her keep in mind that with her at the top of the tree, everything she did would be percieved as an action made by every Anarch. "As it is, the Primogen - albeit roughly - has been secured to allow him to be peacefully ejected fer undue disrespect. That sends the right message. Sending the Prince a box o' ashes'll be the death of us all. I told it ta Rob, an' God help me I never thought I'd hafta do it, but I'm tellin' it ta you the same." The Black Lion was visibly unsettled by the notion of a terrorist attack. Oh, sure, tube bombings were a relatively normal expectation, as grim as that realism seemed. But dusting off the Eye was something else, holding a similar significance to the mortals - and by extension, to the kindred - as Rob's building bomb had been intended to be to the Camarilla. Sullivan had never asked how Nora had settled that one with the Capes - he'd figured that doing the hours as Baron the once was bad enough, nevermind talking about it after - but this Blackwood... He was real trouble. The likes of which even the Anarchs had struggled to be, not since the Bear left. "If this is what's happened while I've been trapped down there with rats an' ruin, if I'm not steppin' beyond meself, Nora - I'd suggest we organize. Apparently we've split apart some, but if ye need me to, I'll round 'em all up meself - we were one when the Sabbat were at our door. If we're to survive, we're gonna need that again." There was anger in his eyes. No, that wasn't right - anger was human. Somethign other, something feral - maybe even as hungry as the Bear's legendary thirst for violence - lay barely dormant in his gaze. But for all it seemed to want to devour every occupant of the rom equally, Sullivan O'Hanlon had an idea on how to solve the troubles of the new London nights. Now, he had to find out if his Baron would let him try. Edited by Sullivan, Monday, 25. November 2013, 00:59.
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| Leslie | Monday, 25. November 2013, 22:20 Post #38 |
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Flemish... furry... flirty... feline! (YODO) Perfection Purrs!
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Espen! The sight of the woman made Leslie forget everything and everyone. The blonde hair like rays of sunshine decorating her face. Those grey eyes like steel! Like silver stars in a beautiful sky that was her perfect face. The young Gangrel could not do anything else but stare at this wonderful creature. Her mouth dropped open a little and she felt so stupid and ashamed for the way she was sitting there. Fuck! What was Espen going to think of her now? When Nora her temper finally became noticeable to Leslie the Baron had already addressed her. Magic? What magic? This was not sounding as excited as it should be. On the contrary it was scaring her. And what happened went so fast Leslie hardly realised it until she saw the staked body of the Tremere! What the fuck!? Leslie jumped up and ran towards Nora. Her eyes shifting from Nora to Espen and then... Sullivan?What? This night was getting a clusterfuck for real! She wanted to scream so they would all shut up! SHUT UP! Staked Tremere! Near Frenzy Nora! Marvelous Espen! Anarch Aguirre or not really Anarch enough! The Cape! And now Sullivan! This would be the first and hopefully last time she wished that that fireball should have burned her to ashes. Her head was spinning. Leslie nearly understood how the game was played and now this happened. Speak up? She had to say something? But what? She shrugged and took a few steps back looking at him with slight fear... unsure how she needed to feel or how she needed to act. There was nothing to say or do. Nora her loud words startled Leslie making the young Gangrel flinch. The tones of the Ventrue reached her mind and calmed her down even though it was harsh. Leslie stared in the grey eyes and nodded. Quickly running to the door and closing it. She stood with her back against it and watched them all. The distance somehow made her feel good. Until the word Box fell. The girl felt herself shrink and suddenly they were all gone. Her vision aimed at the door. Her memories got overwhelmed by the things that had happened there. It still haunted her. The darkness. The smell. The pain. Dead. Frenzy. Anger. Pain. Her hands were fists as her eyes shifted into something deeper. No nice sweet girl but something broken. A red glow falling over her dark eyes. Whatever they said or did she was unaware of it. Lost in her bubble of fear. No more Box! No more Box! ... some of those thoughts slipping from between her lips in soft whispers. |
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English Dutch French German Demon: Leslie's ghoul cat! IA Business
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| Sullivan | Monday, 25. November 2013, 22:44 Post #39 |
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Ancilla
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The Irishman saw Leslie crumble as the Box came into the conversation. Glancing between Nora, Espen, and the two he'd moved to cover, he sighed and ran a hand through his mane, "Guess we'll be lettin' the guy with the ruined, ruptured eyes calm the Cub down, huh? Just don't kill each other til we have a plan." He strode to Leslie's side, not really sure how to help her - he'd promised to get her out of the Box, had told Nora he was taking her into his custody, and then... After one frenzy in the ground and so long finding a way up to the surface - he'd never known for certain if he'd be seen earthmelding by the wrong people, or even if it'd be night by the time he hit the surface - it'd left the Irish Gangrel uncertain if it'd been one of the things he remembered to do before following Nora into the ground. "Cub? I ain't been around a lot - more on that later. But ye remember what I said, right? Ye remember how I said I'd fight yer corner? Nobody is gonna take ye back there." He glanced back at Nora and the other three surrounding the staked Primogen. "They'd have ta ash me ta make it happen." He didn't raise his voice - he wasn't going to have to. They were all on the same uneasily held together team here, and shouting wasn't going to help. Placing a hand carefully on Leslie's shoulders, Sullivan stood beside her but held his gaze to Nora, grey concrete eyes holding an unearthly hunger pacing in the pupils. His question to Nora still stood - she was the Baron. Unless he intended to start a coup - and he most certainly did not - she was still in charge. Personally, he thought that the run out in the dark - for how little it would last - would do him some good, both to get everybody back on the team and to clear his head. But he'd not taken the Barony. He admitted to himself in the silence that he was wary of Espen - the woman wasn't an enemy, but they'd never been close, and as a rule Sullivan had always had difficulty with authority other than his own. maybe why he and Nora had fought so much since she took the position... Or maybe just part of it. But that was a whole seperate issue. For now, he just needed orders - and to know that a certain VIP of Capetown wasn't gonna leave here in an urn. |
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| Espen Schroeder | Tuesday, 26. November 2013, 01:11 Post #40 |
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Blue Blood Rebel
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"The London Eye? That wasn't Al Qaeda or whatever fuckin' kine assholes the news folks are sayin' it was..." Espen turned and opened her satchel removing her tablet from the leather bag. She removed the stylus from its holder and began taking notes. When Sawyer was done speaking she looked over her notes. Mark Blackwood - Terrorist? Responisble for Eye. Infiltrated CamNet, posted manifesto. (Ask for a hard copy) Kill Primogen and Prince? Political destab. in SF She spun the stylus in her hand, "Sullivan's right, we have to handle all of this very carefully, but I have some questions. It's glaringly obvious to me that we were going to be involved in this whether we wish to be or not because of this Mr. Blackwood character. So, I'd like to know more. My most pressing concern is this...manifesto? I'd like to read it myself. A hard copy would be preferred." She looked over at Nora, and though she couldn't make out what they were saying she could see Leslie and Sullivan, the younger of the two visibly distressed. Her brow furrowed as she thought, "Sullivan? I didn't address your concerns earlier. The three I would put in the Box are the foolhardy one, her friend, and the Primogen." "I have my doubts about her Leslie and I'm cautious. But she made a decision and until I have reason to believe otherwise, I believe that she's suffered enough, she's one of us now." |
![]() "If the day ever comes when you're tempted to sell me out, remember this: Whatever their price, I'll beat it. I like living." -- Tyrion Lannister Espen: #6699CC - Beth: #CC0099 | |
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3:54 PM Jul 11