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The Times
The Kindred Chronicle
Key Figures
THE MONSTER OF EALING
Last night, several people reported the sighting of a "screaming red monster" in a quiet neighbourhood of Ealing. After a power shortage in the area, a building caught fire. It was then when, what was described as a "man shaped, footless creature" emerged from the flames, leaping, running, and screaming. One woman has told our reporters that the man had "teeth like a wolf, and the face of the devil". Police officers are still trying to get to the bottom of this; neither the power shortage nor the fire have still been explained. A spokesperson from Scotland Yard has stated that the "so called monster" might be a wounded person, escaping the fire.

TRAGEDY IN TOOLEY STREET
The police has found the bodies of three TFL workers in the construction site at Tooley Street. One of their colleagues raised the alarms last week, when the three workers didn't attend their shifts. The bodies of the men have been found in a deep hole, uncovered by the refurbishment works that are taking place in the area. According to the Police, the bodies were horribly mutilated, which has led to the wildest speculations. The names of the three workers are being kept anonymous, following the wishes of their families.

HOROSCOPE
MARCH 8 - PISCES
You are used to making sacrifices, to prioritising the happiness of others before yours. Even though that is a noble attitude, there are times in life where the only healthy alternative is to embrace your own selfishness and allow yourself some enjoyment. Reserve one hour per day to do something you really like. Treat yourself! Your colour for this month is blue.
Echoes from the past ring back into London. Their intensity increases until they are deafening. What once was a faded memory of a glorious time, now becomes a shocking reality. The consequences of actions taken decades ago ripple into the present, altering the lives of everybody in the City. Unguided and blind, Kindred wander around, trying to make profit out of the reigning chaos.


The appearance of four mysterious figures turned the city upside down. Mistrust and jealousy became the official currency of London. Serpents and fiends rise to power, misdirecting the blaming eyes of the Camarilla towards imaginary enemies. Only those with clear vision and the ability to trust each other strive, while the rest run towards a shallow grave.



Across The Board
Current Chronicle: Dragons and Lions; Pride and Fire
Current Season: Spring
Controlling Sect: Camarilla



Index
Getting Started
General Information
Central London
North London
East London
West London
South London
Miscellaneous
Out of Character


Population: 31

Camarilla
Anarchs
Other
Ventrue: 1
Toreador: 5 (6)
Brujah: 2 (3)
Malkavian: 7
Tremere: 2
Nosferatu: 3
Gangrel: 1
Ventrue: 1
Toreador: 0
Brujah: 2 (3)
Malkavian: 0
Nosferatu: 1
Gangrel: 1
Setites: 5
Sabbat: ???


THE CAMARILLA

Prince

Nobody

Sheriff
Meredith Furlong
Hounds
Robyne Sheridan
Rosella Marie Allain


Keeper of Elysium
Davvad Bisset

Grand Harpy
Catherine Wilke

Primogen
Ventrue: Marcus Antonio Russo
Brujah: Thomas Krusen
Gangrel: Alexa Mallik
Malkavian: Ellora Reese
Tremere: Hannah Sundling
Toreador: Arsenio Pozzi
Nosferatu: Dogan Khojak



ANARCHS

Baron

Khoza

Baronets
Enfield: Leslie
Haringey & Barnet: Clarice Harris
Harrow: Jelena Korolenko

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Welcome To The Night

You find yourself in London on a dreary, foggy night like any other. But what lurks in the shadows is the stuff of fantasies and nightmares, far from mortal reality.

This game uses the cursed and immortal vampiric condition as a backdrop to explore themes of morality, depravity, the human condition, salvation, and personal horror. We are a writing and roleplaying community dedicated to telling complex and engaging stories.

Your fate is your own. Mingle among the ivory-tower elite in the Camarilla, join the fight of the discontented and chaotic Anarch rabble, or set out independently and attempt to survive in London's nighttime underworld. Anything is possible in our World of Darkness.

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Assembly part 2: the plan
Topic Started: Sunday, 3. November 2013, 20:18 (1,695 Views)
George Henry Harris
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Methuselah
* * * * * *
As soon as everyone willing to take part in or at least listen to the plan, George sat down as well and gave Jane a sign while Verity left the stage. After an affirmative nod Jane pressed a switch and the part of the stage with the chairs disappeared into the nether regions of the theatre, taking everyone sitting with it.

After approximately two metres and about half a minute of falling the stage came to a halt in what seemed to be a preparation room. George stood up and walked to another room where a large table with a bunch of chairs around and a large map on top of it. Small tables holding dossiers and folders stood next to the chairs and a big lamp enlightening the room.

With a smile George sat down and waited until the others also did.
Edited by George Henry Harris, Sunday, 3. November 2013, 20:25.
Languages: English, Welsh
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Victoria Scott
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Unbowed. Unbent. Unbroken.
* * * *
She finally dediced to stay. The man, though not close to her beliefs, seemed to be honest and wanted only the unity of the Zealots. Hard thing considering the Brujah were amongst the most beligerent Clans, and the most representative within the Anarchs.

Nevertheless, that didn't make her change her mind. Where the Primogen saw a noble goal, she saw the alienation built for ages by the Camarilla bigwigs seated in their golden thrones while others fought for their rotting royal asses comfort. It reminded her to that Uncle Sam bullshit propaganda the governmental scavengers created to send thousand of young men to death with the excuse of patriotism. The clan meant nothing to her; her beliefs and the Anarchs, being Brujah or not, did. And sometimes, fighting for their rights involved bureucratic crap.

She looked at both sides trying to recognise some anarch faces, and sat down in one of the chairs.
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Ronnie
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Ancilla
* * * *
Ronnie was still sitting on his chair when they sort of drove downwards.
He followed George into that other room and sat down.

Ronnie was glad if any fighting and arguing was over for nwo and they could start talking about the plan how to fight against those bastards. He was truly glad that he didnīt have to ge those Sabbat heads on his own. To do that alone was far too risky really.
His Sire had told him: "Donīt fight against the Sabbat alone, very likely you wouldnīt survive it."

And Ronnie didnīt really fancy dying final death just because the damn prince had sent him on a kamikaze mission. The prince didnīt say "Join the group that will be fighting against the Sabbat", he maybe even didnīt know yet that George was intending anything like that.
So obviously the prince didnīt care a damn if Ronnie survived getting those heads by fighting all alone. Luckily George was not like that.
Bad boy Ronnie, Pictures of Ronnie
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Jelena
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Anarch Mama Bear
* * * *
Ellen was still busy pulling those small wooden fuckers out of her arms. Didn't hurt much, the mess that had been one of her fingernails before hurt the most and was a good fucking distraction. Kept her occupied and not too focused on what was going on around. Just following the herd to the new joint. Easy enough to do on drone mode, wasn't rocket science after all. Small room, table, circle of chairs. Really? This was more and more like therapy. She took a chair at what she dubbed the anarch part of the circle. Cam enter at own peril. Hah, should get some sign up or something! She put her hands behind her head and waited for the head-os to get started. Or the head-o, but the other woman over there looked like she was in some kind of head-o mood too. Fuck, where was popcorn and the fucking ability to eat it when she needed it?
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Aguirre Efrain Maddox
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Mouse
* * * * *
So they were finally getting down to business, but what the fuck was this elevator contraption carrying them downward into the belly of the stage?

Fancy that, never had this thing when I went to school here.

At the same time, it was kinda flashy, but why not be flashy when one had company? 'Specially if one was also dead. The undead especially really needed these secret bunkers, y'know. She couldn't see much of it until everyone else managed to settle in, having trailed in behind the rest of the group. She didn't like having her back to strangers, and would have liked to find a chair closest the wall--though settled with the seat farthest from the entrance, facing the door way.

Honestly, she had no idea how to scheme on such a large scale. She was used to good ol' blue collar crime and not a whole lot else.
Not to mention, she hadn't ever spent a whole lot of time on the east side, mostly sticking to herself in Anarch land unless it was absolutely necessary. As such, she didn't know what to offer yet. This would be interesting.
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Marceline
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Childe
*
Marcie was going to have one less eye for this meeting, and that also seemingly hindered her perceptions at the time of walking, but there wasn't much difference from the way she normally behaved, trying to keep a low profile and watching things from afar until someone else took the first step and approached her. She didn't say a word, except gasping and the initial scream of surprise, but carefully looked all around with much curiosity when they were done.
"Somewhere to hide to keep me alive- Just keep me alive"
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Ares
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The Soldier
* * *
Ares' initial thought when he sat down was that there was no change, and no resson for him to switch seats if it was going to be the usual suspects. But he took his seat and waited to hear the plans, seeing the Anarchs were saying that they were on board.

Ares, having already sized everyone up, now just keeps his eyes on George and waits
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George Henry Harris
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Methuselah
* * * * * *
All that want are here, the stage is set and the plan prepared... Now I just need to convince them...

Standing up George looked at the assembled clanmates, then he took a pointer and pointed it at the map on the table so that everybody present could see what he was talking about.

"The plan is that: We assemble here, you please bring the weapons you intend to use and practical inconspicuous clothes with you. According to my plan we'll then travel to either Notting Hill Gate and take the tube, the Central line, the red one or we go to Tottenham Court Road Station and take the N 55 nightbus. Each of these two ways will lead us to Wanstead, where we'll get to our task at hand: Killing all the scum we meet while walking through the blocks marked in red, here... I have marked a Tzim haven in the vicinity, we might take or not, it's up to you to decide... The closer information about it are in the folders next to your seats... Once we finish and still able to do it, we'll make a coordinated and orderly retreat either back to Wanstead and with the N 8 to Bethnal Green where a cab picks us up and brings us back here for the debriefing or we go to Gants Hill Station and take the tube to Bethnal Green and then via cab to the debriefing..."

Looking up from the map he put the pointer away and sat down again.

"That is my plan in a nutshell... Questions ? Comments ? Opinions ?"

The folders included photos of a red-haired woman, according to the dossier a 'Ms. Warwick', two men who were specified as ghouls. Next were photos and the plans, apparently the construction plans, of a house and a detailed map of the surrounding houses.
Languages: English, Welsh
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Ronnie
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Ancilla
* * * *
Ronnie looked at the map and listened to the plan.

"Itīs all very well going there by public transport, but coming back? After all that fighting we might be full of blood, maybe even with horrible wounds, if thereīs not enough blood in the body left to heal them. Itīs not halloween, so it would draw too much attention to sit heavily wounded in the bus or tube. Who can guarantee nobody of us will look really gruesome after the fighting?
Wouldnīt it be possible if someone picks us up with a rented transporter?"

And then there was some other little problem.

"And how am I gonna prove to the Prince how many of the bastards Iīve killed? He wants that damn sackful of Sabbatie heads from me."

If Ronnie had a ghoul then that ghoul could transport the torpor-corpses to Blythe House in a transporter, deliver half a dozen big sacks filled with sabbaties and pile them up in front of the door, wouldnīt that be fun? Hello, look what Iīve got for you, Mr. Prince.
Bad boy Ronnie, Pictures of Ronnie
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Ares
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The Soldier
* * *
your gonna have to stake them if you want to keep their heads...otherwise they might just turn to ashes Ronnie...

And Primogen, he's right. We need reliable transportation from the scene, something inconspicuous, perhaps a painter's work van. Maybe two of them...or, if we could get them, I don't know who would have such contacts in London, but the coroner's meat wagons would be great. No cop would question one there and nobody would be to suspicious if any of us had the wounds Ronnie spoke of, or worse if your talkijg about the Fiends...and truth be told, as big a guy as I am, I get into a cab with blood all over me, it's gonna end bad for the guy who turns back and asks "where to?"
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Victoria Scott
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Unbowed. Unbent. Unbroken.
* * * *
"I don't care about it because if I eventually decide to join the war coterie, I'll bring my own transport, but the cab he's talking about is probably informed about our task. Only a fool would suggest a bunch of rabbid Kindred to take an ordinary transport after the carnage done." she pointed scathingly, her dark eyes fixed on George's. "Am I right?"

She then turned her head to her Camarilla counterparts speaking.

"As for blood covering your clothes and stuff, that one's easy. You're not gonna leave all your weapons in sight, are you? You'll probably bring a small backpack for them, so add a clean change of clothes and make sure you're well fed before entering the Sabbat slaughterhouse because if you're not, your visible wounds would be the less of your problems. Look, I may sound like a douchebag but I know what I'm talking about. The shovelheads may look harmless but you don't want the hands of what's coming next close to you, specially if that redhead chick is a Tzimisce. You guys sound like you're going for a hike, picking flowers and shit."
Edited by Victoria Scott, Monday, 11. November 2013, 15:59.
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Ronnie
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Ancilla
* * * *
"Iīve got a campervan, and if I had a ghoul he could come with that to collect me and well as a pile of staked sabbaties, but I havenīt got a ghoul. At least not yet. Maybe I should finally get one."

In situations like this it would be quite useful to have a ghoul.

That woman surely was good at making bitchy remarks.

"I know bloody well this is no fucking hike, and I donīt know why anybody might think our talk sounds like weīre going there to pick flowers."

So how were they supposed to sound then?
Ronnie in any case sounded angry now and added with a sarcastic tone:

"Changing clothes, oh yeah, looking forward to the striptease. Maybe we should add a soap and a bottle of water as well for our backback, so that we can wash our face and hands clean."

Not that he cared much about any woman doing a striptease. He didnīt want to ruin this whole talk, but he had trouble staying calm. And it wasnīt him who had started with the nasty remarks.
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Jelena
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Anarch Mama Bear
* * * *
Ellen took the file and read over it superficially. Listened to the other stuff with one ear, wouldn't need more than that, really, how complicated could the plan be? Dumb question, or should have been! She rolled her eyes when then discussion started. What followed after only served to make her laugh again. Saving grace for clan Brujah? They had some good comedians! She allowed the file to slip from her hand and looked at all those assembled, her face still split in half by a grin normally reserved for drunk college studnts high on weed. "Not much of a fan or follower of the news, pretty boy, but weren't the Sabbat those on the holy path of spreading doom, being stupid, dying early and leaving a pretty corpse? Heads should do, except you want to give Prissy Prince an extra big boner." Didn't even know what the Prince looked like, thought alone made her chuckle again. "She's right, sounds like a hike. Someone bring a blanket and a basket with things, or should I? I know this place that has really few ants and shit. And the flowers are fabu-fucking-lous" Ellen shook under the onslaught of the gigglefit that came over her.

The Brujah shook her head to get the giddyness out. "Soap and a bottle of water sound good. You afraid of naked bodies in plain sight?" She winked at him playfully. "If you're a douche for saying what's true, they have it coming anyway, sister."

"So how are we supposed to sound then?"

"Not like sissies would be a start. I'm cool with kicking some Sabbat ass, really! Looks much like we're going to be the local whack squad for this Warwick bitch, which I'm also a bit cool with. But using own cars? Really? No one ever taught you how to get one when you need one? Fuck, I'm almost ashamed!" Didn't stop her from ending that on a laugh as well. She leaned back and put her arms behind her head. Let the Dudes talk it out. Dudes abided and shit.
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Aguirre Efrain Maddox
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Mouse
* * * * *
"Listen, y'all need to calm the fuck down and show each other some respect. We ain't fuckin' five years old. We can talk like adults and it won't hurt one bit, I promise."

Aguirre had been listening, watching, waiting for someone to shut the hell up or talk sense. George's plan was alright, could do with a little tweaking, but that's why they were here. It was one thing to go into this with people she didn't trust, but it was entirely another to go with them when they all seemed to want to rip one another's heads off anyway. Her own blood was boiling under the surface in the face of such widespread disrespect.

"So, instead of writin' each other off, why don't we consider what we've got here? Obviously, George has put some plannin' into this. I agree with... What'shername about public transportation on the way back. Bad idea. But it also ain't such a great idea for those of us who're lucky enough to own a car to be takin' it on a trip like this. Someone sees your license plate, knows everything they need to know about you. So, Ronnie, you keep your camper. Y'all are big boys, you know how to wire a car, right?"

She glanced at Ronnie and Ares, though the question was rhetorical--living in the underbelly of society meant one had to learn certain things, and quickly. Among those things was grand theft of a vehicle.

"Now, while we know this ain't gonna be no pic-a-nic," Aguirre continued with irritation evident in her tone, eyes flitting from Tory to Ellen, "There ain't no reason to panic. Not if we do this right. Wanstead is mostly business--lots of restaurants, florists--and they're all gonna have vans, cars, shit parked in the back that we can get into and drive outta there. There's no reason we gotta risk our own shit to get this done. See, look here--"

The dark haired woman stood, slender fingers finding a few different places on the map.

"--Even just within a few blocks of where we're going, we've got a butcher shop here, a pizzeria--which probably has a fuckin' delivery car, ain't much easier a target than that--we got everythin' we need. And if one of us can't run, y'all damn well better be willing to carry each other. I ain't gonna die because you assholes can't get your shit together enough to act like fuckin' adults."

Aguirre stood, crossed her arms, took a moment to breath. She suddenly felt as though she'd said far too much to a room full of strangers, but this shit was just logic. Why didn't anyone have logic anymore? She looked to George, brow quirked.

"S'far as weapons go, don'tcha think maybe we should plan for what strengths and weaknesses we got? What we have to offer? I'm a real good shot with my Mathil--er, my Colt. Got a heavy hit. Don't mind takin' a few, but myself, I ain't got a lick of experience with Tzimisce. What should we be expecting here?"
Edited by Aguirre Efrain Maddox, Tuesday, 12. November 2013, 03:22.
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Ares
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The Soldier
* * *
Ares kept his quiet exterior, trying to repeat some eastern montra in his head as all his years of experience was questioned by someone who suggested he'd go hiing and picking flowers likke some kind of hippy Toreador...in his mind, he thought to himself "yup...she sounds like a douchebag..."

Then the blonde spoke up...the montras stopped working. He found his mind drifting to all the special tactics hed been both employing and instructing on close combat. In his mind, when she tipped the chair back, he rushed forward to put her on her back, snapping the leg of the chair off and pinning her to the floor with it through her chest cavity...In his mind, he sprung his heavy body from off her frame and prepared for whatever came next while he shut her loud mouth up...then he remembered...its been a few years since he was in a room with just Brujah...so, he let her run her yap and sighed...

Then finally, Maddox spoke up. A voice of reason..he was beginning to think he'd be safer killing all the Anarchs before going in then he would having them on his six going in to fight a building full of shovel heads and fiends.

The look from Maddox to see if he could wire a car didn't raise an eyebrow with Ares, it was a solid question for someone she didn't know. He was beginning to like her more and more.

So, he kept shut, not needing to speak...rereading the files again as he looked up the area of operations on his new smartphone. . .something he liked about the modern night that World War II didn't have. . .Up to the moment, streaming intelligence at the tip of his finger, satellite imagery, local attractions and populations, places for rent and prices so he knew roughly if people looked out of place with the surroundings. ..just about everything he needed to make an educated guess in the moment...it was a great way to overcome the new kid on the block factor. A quick recon would be better, but Google Earth would do juat fine, especially with street view.

He then looked up and waited for George to address everyone's questions.
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Ronnie
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Ancilla
* * * *
Another bitchy woman, really great, but this time Ronnie didnīt reply anything. He simply didnīt listen properly after the first few sentences.
He was angry at himself that he even had started getting into a battle of words and didnīt want more of that.

Then spoke the only woman who seemed to have some sense here instead of starting to bitch around, too.

"Iīm good with guns but also with daggers and swords. But for fighting against kindred and for close combat anyway I would prefer a sword really. Iīve got a short one that would be ideal for this. And Iīve got a long coat under which I can hide it. But Iīll take some guns with me, too.
And are we going on calling each other Whatshername, or do we manage to introduce ourselves? My name is Ronnie."
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Marceline
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Childe
*
Marceline remained quiet and didn't say a word, letting the tough and more experienced people throw their suggestions in. She was paying much attention however, and trying to learn as much as she could from watching. Tangling with the Sabbat again wasn't something she was really looking forward, but there was strength in numbers. She tried her best to stray away from that line of thought, focusing on the present instead.
"Somewhere to hide to keep me alive- Just keep me alive"
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George Henry Harris
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Methuselah
* * * * * *
They're taking it literally... I say it's an option to take public transport for the way back and they act as if it's a fixed part of the plan... I mention 'cabs' and they think of actual ones... I guess I have to cut the metaphors and just keep it simple...

After listening to their concerns, George stood up, looked around with his gaze lingering on everyone and then started speaking.

"Right. I actually thought of 'borrowing' the vehicles we need and exchanging them after we crossed the front line... If you don't have anything to put your weapons in, I could organize some military backpacks which could be issued for this mission and perhaps some weaponry, but that isn't sure yet... If there is need for them, boilersuits, balaclavas and mirrored sunglasses would be available as well..."

He paused to look at what Aguirre was doing on the map, then with a short approving nod at her he continued talking.

"As for the expectations on weaponry: Most of our potential enemies would be shovelheads, so while pistols and revolvers could be used, but as this is supposed to be a rather stealth-y thing I'd recommend melee weaponry... As I said, I might be able to contribute something, but I'll have to see what and how much, so don't rely on that... Another thing would be communication... I'd recommend either walkie-talkies, which I could provide or the classic military handsigns once we're in enemy territory... I don't think I have to stress the importance stealth has on this mission... Any more questions ?"

Languages: English, Welsh
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Jelena
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Anarch Mama Bear
* * * *
Ohhh yes. Of course it had been the plan all along! Didn't believe that for a split second. Walkie-talkies? Handsigns? Suits, balaclavas and sunglasses? Fuck yeah, let's just come up there like the counter-terrors from counterstrike fame and make totally clear who belongs where and what they're up to! We're a group of heavily armed Sabbat-killers, see us and despair, motherfuckers! She giggled at the thought alone, although the guys seemed willing to pull it off. Slaughtering Sabbat was one thing, but looking cool while doing it? Essential! Felt like in a playground here. "Why the fuck would we need walkie-talkies or handsigns? Can't we just, you know-" she waved her hand in a handwavy gesture. "Use mobiles for that shit? Not like carrying thise talky-thingies wouldn't be cool as fuck."
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Ares
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The Soldier
* * *
Ares was fine with the uniform idea, police or paramedics uniforms would be better, but probably not something they could get right away. Now, besideds the obvious, uniforms unite a group, at least in the minds of the enemies. The radios were fine if they had ear pieces, because radios beep whenever you key the mike without the ear pieces plugged in...he was sure the Primogen had all that covered and implied. So hewould get with him afterwards on that. The only question he had was...So, if this is a sanction hit, are we being given the write to slay another kindred...I don't want to lob off some shovel head's mellon, just to find out, after the fact, that they should have been brought in for sentencing by the Prince.
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