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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: |
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| Topic Started: Wednesday, 25. September 2013, 21:46 (3,137 Views) | |
| Mr.Gar | Tuesday, 22. October 2013, 20:23 Post #61 |
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Freelance Enforcer
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The small figure raises a hand and points one finger in Jelena's direction. His voice a buzzsaw baritone. "Now now. I understand it's rude to interrupt what you were about to do. So I don't blame you for being a bit, perturbed. But you bark at me little doggy, and you won't like the bite." The red eyes narrow to slits from beneath the hat and the small figure flips the cane so it's resting on one slim shoulder. "Not my fault you tackled a man into the alley I was walking down without looking to see if it was occupied. Damned sloppy about it too. So finish up what you're doing and stop jeopardizing us all." The voice was almost a snarl as the small man walked forward. A gray van dyke covered his chin. His skin was leathery and a nut brown. His hair was either gone, or shaved away. His eyes were deep set and glowed red, slit like a cats. His ears were twisted into points barely contained beneath the brim of his dusty bowler. The stench of tombs and old dry graves grew stronger as he walked closer. "Now I'm going to be passing by on business of my own. You try to make a play and I'll knock your ass into the concrete. But do BETTER. This sloppy shit won't stand. If I catch you at it again, we'll be seeing the Baron, assuming there's anything left of you to get to her. Got me?" His voice dropped to a threatening hiss as he started to walk past Jelena. He had no interest in her prey. If she jumped for him, he'd be ready. But he was only interested in passing through. |
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Gar's Antham | |
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| Jelena | Thursday, 24. October 2013, 00:07 Post #62 |
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Anarch Mama Bear
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Who the fucking hell did this guy think he was? Ellen had a dislike for people telling her what to do, especially when it was about her food and that particular piece of shit just sneaked up on her and had the gall to threaten her outright! At least she wasn't a masquerade breach on legs and wasn't dim enough to think a stupid fucking hat was enough to make people not notice! Black Madonna of Częstochowa, if she concentrated on it, she could feel the first fucking bubbles boiling up in her blood or at least thats what she imagined! Did that fuck just call her a per-tard? Didn't even know the word, but was pretty sure it wasn't a buddy word. She clenched her fists until the skin over her knuckles was so tens it actually hurt. Fingernails sunk into palms hard, digging deeper bit by bit. Saw herself leaping at Gar like from a passengers seat. His try to keep her off his hide slow, laughably slow, felt like watching it on quarter speed. She was too fast and closed up, pissing herself with laughter all the while, or would at least have liked to! First punch hit him straight in the face, scratching the nose right of his fucking face. Blood came from the hole in his face as the second punch shattered his cheekbone, third went for the jaw. Wasn't sure if she had managed to break it, but the pieces of several teeth came greeting her as Gars head was pushed back by the impacts. Hoped he'd swallow some others! Fucker made a step back to keep balance and raised his claws to get back at her. Ellen leaped over his head and pounded his ribs with insanely fast hooks and jabs until she felt them give way under the force of her attacks to expose the innards. The Brujah and her beast laughed in maniacly unison as the movements of the Gangrel grew weaker and as her fist finally broke through skin and meat tougher than it should be and found its way to the only thin inside the other vampire that was the source of his blood flow and the most important part. Walnut sized brain didn't count after all! She roared her triumph into what of his face she could see when her hand clenched around the organ and ripped it out of him forcefully. It still beat and dripped vita as she shoved it into Gar's face. He fell down limply, his now rigid stare going into the far distance from eyes wide open. She put the heart right in front of his face and crushed it under her foot. She laughed gleefully as she smeared the red paste from under her shoe into his face and kicked it a few times. Heard bones break, tissue rip, blood drip from the gaping wound that had before been his face. She kneeled down next to his form, gripped his neck with one hand, remains of chin with the other. Two hearty pulls and the head came off. She kicked the head to the street, heard a car crush the fucking thing. Still grinning, she turned towards the human. She just stared at Gar, face still a mask of hostility, fists clenched. He saw the first drips of blood fall to the floor from between her trembling fingers. Her eyes still on him, but they looked absent. Colour wiped from her face completely, anything barely human gone, she just stood and stared. No breath. No movement. No reaction. Just death glare at something behind him. Only the blood dripped to the ground slowly. Drip Drip Drip She didn't attack Gar as he attempted to move past her. She didn't even move. Just stared into the distance. |
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| Mac | Thursday, 24. October 2013, 02:24 Post #63 |
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Goddess of Fuck and War
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Oh she eyed Mr. Gar as he came out of the alley and around the corner, she would eye that mother fucker like no one's business. You didn't walk around with a face like that, even close to Halloween, without Mac throwing a huge ass red button on you. Do not disturb indeed, that was one scary ass mother fucker trucking. Especially the feeling her gave off, low and predatory... somewhat like she imagined Kine felt around her. Made her uneasy, nervous even. She would tuck her chin a little, fingers going to town still as she presented a memory with her rendition of Johnny B Good. This would be the last one of the night, it was definately time to ditch. So much for a hippy sing along, it was time to fuck the fuck off of these fanger crawling streets. With the flask of vodka at her side she felt somewhat comfortable that Mr. Gar would meet a flaming end if he suddenly decided to dine on her, but hopefully he was a hell of a lot smarter than the lady in the alley who so publically yanked off a poor SOB for diner... If not, there was George and Aguirre and Luny Toons on the roof. They'd come to her rescue right? ... Aguirre would. Aguirre was like that, right? |
![]() "You are so fucking Camarilla. All hope and optimism. Maybe we can mount a rescue mission, and everyone can have a cupcake party, and fly around on Pegasus unicorns pooping rainbows." | |
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| Aguirre Efrain Maddox | Thursday, 24. October 2013, 21:59 Post #64 |
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Mouse
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Jesus, how had this night turned so tense, anyway? At least there was one face there Aguirre didn't know, but he was a creepy little bastard, so it wasn't actually all that comforting to think that she wasn't just being simultaneously stalked by everyone she'd ever met in London. It was probably better that whatsername--Blondie, for now-- hadn't chosen to tussle with him. The dark haired woman waited until the Dwarf passed a fuming Blondie by with words that seemed far more threatening than necessary before climbing down, coming to rest just out of arm's length of the woman. She hadn't made introductions at the clan gathering; mostly just helped her up and watched her get knocked on her as again, but better late than never, right? "Hey, 'member me? Name's Aguirre." She smiled mildly, knowing that furious look on the other woman's face all too well despite not donning it quite so often as she imagined Blondie did. Sure, she had the urge to beat the piss out of people sometimes, but it wasn't something she usually indulged, with the exception of Sawyer and Mac, of course. Speaking of Mac... Aguirre tilted her body to the left to see around the other Brujah, watching the projected line the Dwarf seemed to be walking. Straight for the Amazonian, who didn't seem quite so ready to fend him off as she had with George and Agustin. It made her itch a little, itch to be over there to claim Mac as her own and see that creepy fuck walking the other direction. Mac was nobody's, but it didn't hurt to pretend just once if it meant she wouldn't get eaten. Honestly, the guy had some pretty bad mojo floating around him anyway. She didn't need Auspex to know that much. She didn't want to have to jump in if he tried to pull one over on Mac, but she was poised to nonetheless. Sure, she was a punching back for the ghoul, which was only slightly pathetic; but there was still a defined sense of concern for her lingering in Aguirre's mind. |
![]() We are all museums of fear. Font color: #FFDAB9 | |
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| Mr.Gar | Thursday, 24. October 2013, 22:01 Post #65 |
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Freelance Enforcer
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Mr. Gar stares at Mac with his red eyes, then blinks and lets the glow die out, leaving a pair of red tinted brown eyes staring at her, like a rodents or other nocturnal animal. The dark skinned vampire's flesh is the consistency of soft leather, like someone who spent far too much time drinking, tanning or smoking, but lacking imperfections like freckles or moles. His van dyke is bushy and gray, but his face does not look old, merely weathered from a harsh life. His eyes sunk, his nose somewhat hawkish. His eyebrows are darker, but silver hairs show in them as well. His head and jaw show signs of stubble, but whether shaved that day or dozens ago is impossible to determine. His bowler cap is dusty and clearly has been pounded back into shape a time or two. His ears are pointed, deformed so the ridges merge and twist into a pair of points, almost animalistic, or like someone who suffers Stahl's ear. His pin stripe suit is also worn and dusty, showing signs of having been patched on several occasions. The dark black duster hanging down his thin frame has been patched in several places with thick, raw red silk, giving it the look of something slashed by a wild animal and bleeding. His cane is black polypropylene and is held casually in one hand, the steel knob gleams, held downward with the cane resting on his shoulder. His shoes are a pair of scuffed black loafers with a pair of gleaming pennies stuck into the bands. An old scar on the side of his throat passes through his larynx, perhaps the reason his voice is such a rasping buzz saw. "Don't scream, don't pull a weapon, don't fight. Just dropping off a message. I work for a living, same as you, a lot of the same kind of jobs. Competition is good for business, but a monopoly is better. I'm going to give you something as a show of good faith. It contains an offer. Just think on it, and let me know." He slowly reaches into his coat and draws out an old mason jar. Inside is a dark, syrupy, crimson fluid that sloshes slowly as he lowers it to the ground. Enough for three feedings, if a person was frugal. A card was taped to the top of it. He looked up as he straightened, his voice a soft scrape. "You do what you want with it. But do not give it to anyone. If I catch some mortal following me, or some random vampire, because you gave it away, I'll kill them. Then I'll come looking for you. You never use it, fine. You think you can kill me and get the rest, you're welcome to try. But right now, I got no beef with you. Just new in town and looking for business partners." His grin is almost shark-like as he winks at Mac. "I hate playing fair. So, I like hedging my bets. Bribing the competition seems like a good plan for that. Contact instructions are on the note." The tiny gnarled figure bows in a slight bow and turns, walking off down the street. His cane swings at his side with soft swishes. He almost looks to break into a tap dance just as the shadows swallow him up. He wasn't sure what she'd do with the precious vitae, but he was sure he could handle it. |
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Gar's Antham | |
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| Mac | Thursday, 24. October 2013, 23:03 Post #66 |
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Goddess of Fuck and War
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He'd see her tense, see the muscles of her arms and in her neck stress with alertness at his approach. She wouldn't stop playing, but the finger movements and enthusiasm would drop down to a completely technical approach as he moved infront of her. She kept reminding herself of the flask at her hip, and would note the details of his appearance and in the way he moved. Was the cane for real, or for a show? Those details she needed to assess before she would feel confident in GTFO of there. God, he stank. Her senses always to acute for the city, where bums and homeless folk made her nose wrinkle. Gar? Gar made her stomach flop, that uneasiness he cast on mortals something she couldn't help -feeling- but she could help -responding- to as she soothed herself with the mental image of setting him on fire. She liked to set things on fire and it had been far to fucking long since she'd put a Fanger up in real distress. When he told her not to scream, she wanted to scream. Not in fear, but in opposition to being told what to do. Jesus, duh. Defiance issues up the kiester. "Don't drink nothing I don't see come from a vein, and a dead vein at that. Thanks for the offer. Leave the note, you can take the jar." She wouldn't out right refuse, because let's face it... She always -needed- back up sources when it came to blood donations. Sure as fuck she wasn't going to touch whatever was in that jar though, she'd been poisoned far to many times. With Nora recently pumping her full of venom? She had no desire to experience anything similair anytime soon. She loved certain pain, but having your organs start failing? Not the kind of pain she could get herself off on. He was already walking away though, and she was left with a jar of some fangers blood. She certainly didn't -owe- him anything for that, cuz she was not going to touch it. She never agreed to nothing, and wouldn't accept whatever debt he'd be expecting for it. Business partner or not. She felt like a child about to say "YOU TOUCHED IT LAST!". |
![]() "You are so fucking Camarilla. All hope and optimism. Maybe we can mount a rescue mission, and everyone can have a cupcake party, and fly around on Pegasus unicorns pooping rainbows." | |
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| Jelena | Tuesday, 29. October 2013, 23:26 Post #67 |
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Anarch Mama Bear
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Vision became a bit blurry as her awareness for the situation returned. Where the fuck- right, alley ! The human at her feet answered the next question easily. Dinner, yeah! Memory was still bit hazy but returned slowly. Recalled the fuck that tried to intimidate her into shit. lack of blood on the walls and floor made clear she hadn't actually dismembered the bastard. Too bad, would've served him right! Small part of her started flushing her with the bad feels. Couldn't kill someone over shit like that. Fuck, of course, not like he wasn't asking for it! Angry voice in her head got lower with time. "Hey, 'member me? Name's Aguirre." Ellen blinked. Remembered the voice from the gathering. Family, so no immediate danger! Her head slowly turned around to where the voice came from. "Yah, clan meet, I remember. Know that arrogant fuck ?" She kneeled down next to the guy on the floor and put three fingers to his neck with a nod. "Was about to get a donation. Want some?" |
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| Aguirre Efrain Maddox | Friday, 1. November 2013, 06:08 Post #68 |
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Mouse
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Blood in a jar...? Was that some kind of fucking peace offering? 'Here, have a jar of blood from someone you don't know. I promise it's not spiked.' Sure, little guy. Sure. Mac was smarter than that, and just because the Gangrel seemed so... Scary... didn't mean the Amazonian couldn't take him on if me made a scene. "Was about to get a donation. Want some?" Her attention cam back to Ellen, realizing she'd been asked a question, or was that two? She replied with a slight delay. "What? Oh, no, no thank you.." She glanced at the unconscious man with some discomfort; Aguirre hated feeding in front of others. "And, ah, no. I don't know the dwarf. But I know the Amazonian he's creepin' on." |
![]() We are all museums of fear. Font color: #FFDAB9 | |
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| George Henry Harris | Sunday, 3. November 2013, 18:44 Post #69 |
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Methuselah
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Jumping on the other roof again George started to pack the folding chair and the table back into the backpack, followed by the binoculars and the beer save for one bottle, which he kept for himself. Putting the bottle into his jacket pocket he went over to the other roof again. From the roof he then descended to the fire exit. Sitting there, he opened his beer and watched the scene unfold, as there was no need for him to step in. Whistling a tune he took the first sip of his beer waiting if necessity called him or not. |
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