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The Kindred Chronicle
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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
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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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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.

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Getting Aguirre into proper shape part one...
Topic Started: Wednesday, 6. November 2013, 22:56 (1,144 Views)
George Henry Harris
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Methuselah
* * * * * *
The old factory stood alone in the cold night, the wind blowing through the holes in the roof between the faded grey slate, through the rusty metal pipes and the brick walls which were overgrown with moss, the metal doors rusty and the windows that weren't broken were blinded by decades worth of dust. The patches of grass around the building were withered and yellow. A place that had an air of former glory fading into nothing, giving impressions of despair and uselessness.

Inside there were remains of big rusty machines, large storage rooms full of rotting and worm-infested crates and other things turned into rubbish by the merciless grip of time...

George was already there, dressed in black, hidden behind an old machine which had been used to produce ammunition and waited for his trainee to arrive, a wooden sword drawn and ready for a surprise attack...
Languages: English, Welsh
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Aguirre Efrain Maddox
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* * * * *
Man, the place George had picked for their first lesson was creepy as all hell. Not only was it freezing out in the November weather, but this place looked like something out of a horror movie--big, grey, and dead looking, like people were too scared to even squat here at night. That seemed to be the case, since there weren't actually any people staying here. No recent drum fires. No signs of life, even, at least in the last ten years. She supposed this was as good a place as any to learn how to be.. Well.. Competently able to handle herself. Really, it wasn't that she had no faith in her ability to smack a bitch down when they were really asking for it. It was more that her current fighting 'style', if mosh pit brawling qualified as such, just wasn't enough anymore. If Mac was able to beat her down into the dirt and make it look like fun while she did it, something was wrong; even if the Amazonian was the scariest person she knew.

All she'd brought with her tonight was Mathilda, her .45 Colt Commander, and a knife that she didn't usually carry. Hopefully after a few lessons with the Primogen, that would change. She was well aware that Ronnie had offered his services at the meeting, and while she fully believed he was capable enough as a teacher, she wanted someone who was... Well, less talkative about it. George, she knew, had a pretty solid style of fight--and judging by his little war room in the base of the theater at Kingston College, she could only assume he'd had some military training. Enough to think that a bunker hidden in a place so unlikely as a theatre floor was necessary.

She strolled in tonight wrapped in a jacket she'd managed to dig out of the back of the closet, covering a thick black sweater beneath with holes along the seams. Aguirre wore an old pair of threadbare jeans, and her new boots, but only because they were her only pair. Why dress up if she was probably going to get her ass kicked anyway?

It was so quiet in here, the only sound being the wind whipping through the bare walls of the condemned building. She walked forward slowly, looking for George, then glancing at her phone to check the time. She was early, maybe he just hadn't made it here yet.
Edited by Aguirre Efrain Maddox, Thursday, 7. November 2013, 00:58.
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George Henry Harris
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As Aguirre went deeper into the factory she found an old metal table with a khaki blanket on it. On the blanket were some items, a wooden sword, a pair of baseball bats, a Lee-Enfield rifle and an axe. A voice she knew and expected suddenly spoke, seemingly being somewhere in the room, but the reverbation made it impossible to hear where exactly the speaker was.

"Good evening, Aguirre... Glad you made it on time. You see, while I'm glad to be able to help you, there is a little question that has been bothering me for a while and as I don't know how to find the answer, perhaps you can enlighten me ? The question is..."

The voice faded away and suddenly there seemed to be movement somewhere. The next thing she knew was an iron grip on her shoulder and a wooden sword at her throat, then George finished the sentence, whispering into her ear.

"How did you manage to find out where I live ?"
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Aguirre Efrain Maddox
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* * * * *
"Good evening, Aguirre..."

"The fuck?" Aguirre muttered as her eyes darted around the vast emptiness around her, wondering why George was pulling the theatrics. Man, between the theatre and the echoing rumble of his voice here, she wasn't sure whether he was Brujah or Toreador. Either way, the effect was creepy paired with the howling of wind bouncing off bare cement walls. She turned slowly around a few times to see if he was anywhere in sight, but that would just ruin the fun, wouldn't it? She wondered if this was part of the initial 'evaluation' he'd mentioned on the phone. It was probably safe to assume he took a more stealthy approach to things than one would expect from the Rabble, judging by his escapade on the roofs in Enfield and this little prank. Then again.. She still didn't really know George. This could be some kind of trap. Perhaps asking him for help had been a bad choice.

"The question is..."

Suddenly she could feel rough slivers against her throat and a grip tight as death's on her shoulder. Sure, it was a wooden sword, but he could just as well stake her with it and leave her out for sunrise if he wanted to. Hell, if he somehow knew she worked for Henderson, he probably would have hauled off and done it anyway. Then again, Aguirre could safely assume that death would come swiftly if the Primogen found that this was the case. He certainly wouldn't have placed weapons on the table before her, or given her ample warning that he was lurking in the shadows.

"I got some real close friends, and you got a paper trail a mile long", the willowy woman said in good humor, despite the position she was in. If he was going to do any serious damage, he would have done it already. Or maybe he was the sadistic type. With the slightest downcast of her eyes to the sword, she certainly hoped that wasn't the case.

"Anywho, you ain't invisible. I coulda followed you and planted that letter all by my lonesome if I wanted. But I didn't. Again, real close friends. But there ain't no reason we can't be friends, too."

She smiled--wide and toothy, slender hands rising up in a surrendering gesture.
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George Henry Harris
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Close and ugly friends, I suppose... Anyway, not going to ruin that date now, if you can call it one... I find it out eventually, if I get the right man for the job...

"Didn't say there was any reason we couldn't be... Don't have a mile-long paper trail though, quarter-mile perhaps..."

After speaking these words, his grip loosened and the sword was withdrawn from her throat but not tucked away. Abandoning the position behind her George walked into her view until standing in front of her, looking at her with a small smile.

"Right, we'll walk to that table now and you'll show me what you brought and then we discuss what you'll learn first... Sound okay to you ?"
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Aguirre Efrain Maddox
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"Quarter mile? I think you're underestimatin' it a little, there, George. But y'know, keep on keepin' on."

She hadn't gone over the information she found in detail--skimmed briefly, perhaps, to find what sort of person her elder might have been. Among the information was the fact that he really wasn't so much her elder as she had originally thought, though it didn't put a damper on her interest in learning from him. She still hadn't gleaned much more than that, but she imagined if she really did some digging--perhaps talked to ol' Lazy Eye down in the warrens--she could find out more. What Aguirre had was a starting line, but the finish line? It was miles away. She was lucky to have the connections she did, or she might not have pursued such an endeavor as this at all.

Thank Christ he let her go, anyway. It relaxed the more paranoid thoughts she'd been having a moment before, setting her back into the assumption he had no interest in hurting her outside of whatever training they were doing. Considering one of her more popular nicknames was Klutz, she fully expected to have her ass handed to her at least a few times before she really started to catch on, but she was dead--she could endure. The Primogen was helping her become better, more than he ever could have known. She gave a brief smile and a nod as he went over the 'curriculum'.

"Sounds like a plan, professor."

At that, she pulled her jacket up to the side to reveal Mathilda in her shoulder holster, pulling the Colt Commander out and setting it on the table. This was followed by the knife she pulled out from a leather sheath tucked in between her jeans and her skin, placing it beside her beloved gun with the fake ivory grip.

"These are all I got. I'm decent with the gun, but I ain't got a clue about knife fights."

Might as well be straight about it, right? Ain't gonna get no better if I ain't got a place to start from.
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George Henry Harris
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"Perhaps I do... But perhaps you're overestimating... Anyway, doesn't matter much, does it ?"

With a smile he accompanied her to the table, then went to a nearby piece of machinery, took a black bag out of a chute and put it on the floor next to the table.

"Most people tell you that there are rules in a fight... I found that most of them aren't really applicable in a fight for life or death..."

Looking at her little arsenal he drew a combat knife from his belt and handed it to her with a small smile and a bow, before stepping back to the table, taking her knife and examining it, then taking a fighting stance.

"How about we improve that first, then ? Attack me !"
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Aguirre Efrain Maddox
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* * * * *
The combat knife was well weighted--felt even, balanced in her hand, a much different feeling than the cheap piece of ghetto-sharpened silverware that George held in his hand now. Like she'd told him, she knew nothing about knife fights, and was more than willing to deal with what she already had. Why spend a ton on a knife like this when it was just a sharp tip and some serrated edges she was looking for? After all, she hadn't spent any money on Mathilda, simply stolen it from a stranger, and that Colt was one of her most prized possessions.


He wanted her to attack. Man, people always wanted her to come at them first. At least this one wasn't a free shot--and while she didn't particularly look forward to the possibility of leaving with a score of stab wounds in her tummy tonight, it wasn't like she couldn't handle it. She was dead. What did she need all that excess flesh for, anyway?

Er--alright then. If he says so.

For a moment before she lunged forward, she stared him down, wondering how best to come at this when she was more than just a little clumsy with a knife at this range, even with a quality piece like the one he'd given her. Put lipstick on a pig, doesn't make it any prettier or any uglier, just makes it a pig in lipstick. Give Aguirre a combat knife, doesn't mean she'll be able to use it. She's just an Aguirre with a combat knife who didn't know the first thing about how to use it. Either way, she'd asked for training.

She took a quick step forward and shoved the blade in the direction of--well, basically, his abdomen. Anywhere. She didn't expect to hit, but if she did, it would sure be lucky. If she happened to make it out of his move with her hand still intact, she would swipe right, swipe left, hopefully make some ugly little cuts on his arms or whatever he threw in the way.
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George Henry Harris
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Well, time to see how good she is and how much improvement is needed...

Her knife wasn't particularly suitable for combat, but one has to take what's there, right ? It would do... Perhaps the courtesy of giving her the better weapon was unusual, but why not give her a little advantage ? Especially as she was going to lose the first few training fights...

Perhaps she didn't like having to be the attacker, but that was the unwritten law of training: The trainee always attacks the first few lessons to learn how to do it and how not... anyway, she'll have a lot to learn...

Waiting for he attack, George noticed her stare and smiled at her encouragingly while letting his guard down a bit to test her. Changing the grip on the knife the smile seemed to change...

As she lunged forward he didn't react immediately, but at the last moment he brought the guard back up to deflect her knife, getting a slash on his arm in the process while aiming for her throat with his knife.
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Aguirre Efrain Maddox
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"Aw shit", she laughed.

George already had his knife to her throat, had drawn a thin line of blood even. At least she'd caught his arm with the blade, but she'd already lost the first training round. She didn't want to give up so easily though, especially when he was obviously going easy on her. It was pathetic how often she found people going easy on her, but at least this time it wasn't out of sheer doubtfulness of her strength and abilities. This was training, not a real brawl.

In the spirit of keeping this first round going as long as she could, she stepped back quickly from the blade of her own knife, attempting to knock his blade back with her empty hand while going for a good, fleshy part of the shoulder to tick with the blade, though it wasn't a particularly steady attempt. If that failed, she'd left herself fairly wide open--though she still had her free hand, curled into a fist, ready to connect if needed. After all, she might have actually been better with her hands than she was with a weapon, if she had the right motivation.
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George Henry Harris
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Well, the potential is there... Might have to develop it a bit, but it isn't half as bad as I feared...

George allowed himself to share a short laugh with her, then she managed to step back and knock the blade back with some effort. Her attempt to sink the knife into his shoulder seemed to catch him by surprise and thus succeded. Just as that happened his always present smile faded into a grimace of concentration and he responded by aiming his knife for the opening in her defense, but at the same time used the attack she focused on and the forward motion he already did to establish contact between her stomach and his knee. Nobody said, the little unfair tricks weren't allowed, after all...
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Aguirre Efrain Maddox
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Mouse
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That opening she'd left would most definitely be her downfall on round one. George's attack buried the knife in her left side, just below the rib cage--and with that being as unexpected as it was, his knee sent her skidding backwards on her boots until she finally fell straight on her ass and laid out across the uncomfortable bits of rubble that had previously been beneath her boots. She hadn't felt that kind of pain in a long time, not since she'd gotten in a knife fight at a Sex Pistols show, and even then the guy's switch blade only cut up her arm. There wasn't even a proper scar to show for it. Aguirre could take a hit, sure, but she wasn't so good at taking a knife to the belly. Maybe these training sessions would teach her how to use that kind of pain instead of crumbling under it.

After a moment of staring up at the blank ceiling, she let a hand crawl up around the handle of the knife and yanked the damn thing out with an unhappy grit of the teeth, but only until the foreign protrusion was removed. She was lucky he hadn't aimed that knee for her face, because if that were the case, she'd probably be working on healing a caved in mess of cartilage right now. As it stood, she was fine, she would heal, and with that logic she made herself get the hell back up. The fact that the Brujah had fallen at all was pathetic. She didn't want a breather, she wanted to learn, and that cut would be gone in no time. She eyed him with a raised brow, now grasping a blade in each hand, though flipping the other around to hold it by the flat of the blade and offer it back to George.

"Again?"

Sure. Give the guy a free license to poke holes in you. See if I care, masochist.
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George Henry Harris
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George seemed actually a bit surprised that his knee to her stomach did cause her to seemingly fly away and fall flat on her ass. Sure, most people would be squirming, but actually getting thrown back and falling on her ass ? Perhaps he had too high expectations, but he didn't expect this... Scratching his head he extended his hand to help her up but withdrew it as she got up by herself...

Looking at her sceptically he took the knife from her hand with a nod and a small smile.

"Yes, again. Remember what I told and showed you about dirty tricks... It's perfectly fine to be unfair in a fight to the death..."
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Aguirre Efrain Maddox
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Aguirre was not, and had never given the illusion, of being a strong person.

Perhaps she'd tried to play the intimidation card once or twice, but no one was convinced when Mouse Maddox tried to act tough. It just never worked. She mostly functioned by being a wallflower, by trying to stay out of sight, especially in situations that called for violence--she was, after all, the least Brujah to ever Brujah. She acknowledged this. So when she noticed George's scratch of the head? Yeah, she understood. She also understood that too many kindred took their Potence for granted.

"But we ain't fightin' to the death. This is just practice. Am I s'posed to come at you like I wanna kill you? I mean, 'cause, I don't. A little bitty stab is a whole different thing, y'know?"

She trailed off, dusting the back of her clothes off, since they were now pretty well coated in dust, skin coming together where the Primogen's knife had parted it as she had an opportunity to focus.
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George Henry Harris
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George nodded in agreement to her words with a small smile on his face which disappeared as he spoke.

"Right, we aren't... I'd like you to remember that we're training for such situations though... I'm not saying you're not trying, you are but apparently you lack something, you know... Please don't take it personally, but you need to have more... aggression, more will to fight and harm your opponent... Perhaps we'll need a different approach for that..."

Pausing, he thought about a method to bring her anger out, as it was there, it had to be... After a while he nodded and continued, taking a fighting pose while talking.

"There must be someone you really hate, right ? Everyone has someone like that after all... Could you do me a favour and imagine, that one would be standing here instead of me ? Can you do that ?"
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Aguirre Efrain Maddox
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"No offense taken," Aguirre muttered.

She was well aware of being the Little Brujah that Couldn't, but wasn't she supposed to be fixing that right now? Round number one had been an epic failure already, and to be honest, she wasn't that great at harming people unless they gave her a damn good reason to do so. Sure, she'd thunk a dumbass or two on the head every once in a while when the occasion called for it, but to kill someone? She hadn't spent much of her time in unlife as a killer after the first time, not even in the tunnels of Camden.

"There must be someone you really hate, right ? Everyone has someone like that after all... Could you do me a favour and imagine, that one would be standing here instead of me ? Can you do that ?"

"...Yeah. Maybe. More than likely."

Aguirre didn't especially hate anyone. Sure, there were a few people she disliked--Nora, among those, though the abrasive woman hadn't necessarily done anything to deserve it besides being generally intimidating. Mac, sometimes, though recently they'd come to find themselves on good terms. Fuck, who did she hate? She had to think for a moment... Think think think...

The realization clicked. She did hate someone. She just hadn't seen the dead beat asshole in close to thirty years. Her sire.

She couldn't remember him so clearly after such a long time; Suddenly before her stood the tall, blonde-headed figure of a somewhat muscular man in his mid-to-late twenties, the image flickering between the Primogen and the piece of shit who'd been responsible for presenting her with so much misery through the years without even being there to do so. A small, humorless grin graced her soft features.

"Yeah, I think I got it. Tools of the round, George? Somethin' sharp or bare-knuckle?"

Personally, she liked her own two hands better than a knife any day.
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George Henry Harris
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"Good... Please do that and then we'll continue, if you're ready to..."

Seemingly she had found a picture to project on him and focus her hate on. The humourless smile didn't suit her, but George shrugged internally, as he wasn't either her father or her boyfriend but just training her to defend herself better... As she asked about weapons for the second round, George gestured to the table with a smile.

"Your pick actually... Take something from the table or we can do unarmed fighting, as you wish... You're benefitting from this after all..."
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Aguirre Efrain Maddox
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"Let's make it easy and call it a bare-knuckle brawl, huh?"

Although 'easy' was certainly a matter of perspective. At least she sort of knew what she was doing in a weapon-free fight, despite having never had formal training in that or her disciplines. Most of what she knew, she learned on her own--through lots of broken furniture and hard face-plants into the cement, which was probably part of the reason she was so weak in a fight despite that apparently being what her clan was known for. Sometimes, though, when she got a good dose of hate in her bones... When she had the motivation, she could at the very least defend herself. Imagining Luke's rough features certainly lit a fire in her belly.

"Lets see if we can't make this one last a little longer. Your go this time. Gotta learn to react, don't I?"
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George Henry Harris
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Bare knuckles, eh ? We'll see, if she can do it now... If she does the focussing right, she might actually have an easier time...

"Indeed you have to... A bare knuckle brawl it is then..."

With a small smile George turned around and put the knife on the table and took a fighting stance. The smile was replaced by a blank face concentrating on the fight that followed, his gaze sliding over her, looking for weak points to attack...

A few seconds later he ran towards her with clenched fists, raised to hit her and perhaps a trick or two up his sleeve...

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Aguirre Efrain Maddox
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George took this all pretty well, more with a grain of sugar than one of salt. At least he was willing to work with Aguirre on her own terms, trying to give her options and teach her through methods that she would actually absorb. Yeah, the beating of a lifetime was certainly something she would absorb, although it would be nice to think that maybe she could win just one round. Looking for weak points, he'd probably find more than she could count; mostly, she knew to protect her face, and because she wasn't exactly the most graceful Brujah in the room, this left her open to be thrown down and because her arms were raised to protect mostly her upper torso, face, and neck, it left everything below her elbows open for attack. That was, if she didn't catch it in time.

As he ran at her, a straightforward move she wasn't particularly expecting, she backed up a step or two and planted as firmly as she could on her back foot to attempt to fend off his first attack. George's raised fist was deflected, and in return, she threw her own hard left jab toward his stomach, and if this succeeded, she would pull her left arm back and attempt and uppercut with the same fist aimed for his chin. She had no tricks, wasn't nearly skilled enough, and would have to learn to use these things in cooperation with her disciplines if she ever hoped to beat the Primogen in a fight.
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