Vampire The Masquerade RPG
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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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Carving a Mountain; (Open: Time Elapsing)
Topic Started: Saturday, 23. November 2013, 17:10 (592 Views)
Toran
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The Formerly Hated
* * * * * *
Toran slipped into a heavy leather vest and buckled it down his chest. Then a heavy canvas jacket over it to match the canvas work pants he had put on. Dropping down into the safe room he jerked down the power lines to get his tools running and keep them running. He regards the far wall of the ghoul box with a frown on his face. He didn't want to mess up the security of the room, but he needed more space for his newest project.

Securing the power cable with his wrench he picked up the jack hammer and slipped on his earphones and safety goggles, then put the spike to the wall. Thumbing the trigger he muscled the machine and started slamming into the concrete of the wall, sending chips and chunks flying. Even as strong as he was, only the vampire blood let him keep the heavy tool perpendicular to the ground and hammering away. Carving the troughs into place he slammed metal wedges into the crack and started pounding away with the heavy iron sledge hammer to break it apart, digging huge chunks out of the wall like a machine himself.

Snarling as the impacts of both the jack hammer and the sledge sent impacts ringing through his muscles he carved a new doorway into wall until he reached the basement of the building next door. Sighing with relief he dropped the tools and went to examine the space. It was big, just what he needed. One entrance, an industrial elevator that looked pretty broken. It didn’t take much work to weld the machinery in a way that guaranteed it would never move again, and then spot weld heavy metal sheeting in place over the top of the elevator to keep it from being entered from any door but the one he carved.

The important part about this basement, aside from tripling the amount of underground room he had to work with was that it had a sewer entrance. A door that fast had its grating replaced with an armored doorway to control egress and entrance. It took him a while to carve the cement into a proper door fitting and security vault. It took work, he had to make sure the side facing the ghoul room lacked sharp edges and ways for someone in lock down to harm themselves. It took some clever work to fit a recessed keypad and security access point. A while, or, in normal time, a week; a week of busting his ass and smoothing, polishing the area. Getting it fit for his use. Fortunately the power line access from the outside was good, so all he had to do was splice the external lines and wire in the conduits heading to the basement. After that the whole room gained power on its own circuit, independent of his shop.

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Can't leave... can't leave... can't leave the girls will eat me....
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Toran
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The Formerly Hated
* * * * * *
The scrap yard had a lot of the materials he needed. It took a while to get the machining tools fixed up and put into place in his new sub-basement. Amazing how much equipment people would steel for a guy who could give them a card-jack to rip off ATM's. Course, he was glad he put the lockout so they couldn't get more than 300, or do it more than twice a month. Stupid asses would get caught in a day if he didn't safeguard it, and then it'd come right back to him.

The heavy man was in thick canvas garb again, to avoid burns. His gloves were fireproof and the welder sparked and hisses as he bent and melted the steel plating into layers over the elevator entrance. He was going to have to do some creative deconstruction to the building above, get it to collapse maybe. Then the rubble would hide the work. Building your own Batcave is a pain in the ass, but supernatural strength sure does help.

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Can't leave... can't leave... can't leave the girls will eat me....
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Sawyer
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Friendly Neighborhood Vampire
* * * * * *
It was a bitterly cold night in London, the first of many to come, and icy slush fell from cloudy skies in a dreary, constant sleet. Beneath his leather jacket and hoodie, Sawyer shivered- on a night like this, even the dead froze. The cheeks and nose of his mask were flushed with rosy, artificial life, and it would be a much more pleasant looking visitor that Toran received this evening.

Sawyer gave a short and cheerful wave to the now-familiar security camera nestled near the front door. He doubted Toran was going to hear much of anything over the steady pounding Sawyer could faintly make out. Was that a jackhammer droning away down there? He'd been kidding about the moat, but hell, maybe the guy really was excavating something. If Toran had somehow found buried treasure or something underneath his building, Sawyer might really start believing that the guy's luck had turned around.
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Toran
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The Formerly Hated
* * * * * *
Toran cursed as his phone buzzed in his pocket. The insensent vibration meant someone was upstairs setting off his motion detectors. Putting down the welder carefully since he didn't want to deform the hot metal he ducked out of the elevator shaft, jogged across the wide basement in the flood lit gloom and through the now shaped hole in his ghoul box. Then he climbed the ladder and came out of his back to open the door.

Dripping with sweat a pair of black goggles over his eyes, his hair plastered down and soot smudged over his face he grinned at Sawyer, he couldn't help it. The heavy canvas jacket, apron, fireproof gloves and pants probably looked a bit odd, but he was still happy to see the boss.

"Hey man. Come on in, gotta show you the add on."
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Toran's Voice

Can't leave... can't leave... can't leave the girls will eat me....
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Sawyer
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* * * * * *
Toran opened the door, a wide grin spreading across his flushed, sweaty face, dirt clinging to his skin. Huh, when he'd been thinking home improvement, he hadn't imagined the guy had been doing anything requiring that much protective gear. McBodice-Ripper was just full of surprises!

"Add on?" Sawyer said curiously, following him inside. "Ain't there only so much you can add on to a buildin' like this?"

He glanced around as he walked, noting the disarray of the space and the fine cloud of concrete dust that seemed to linger in the air. Kicked up by kicking down the walls, maybe? Sawyer knew the place had all sorts of creepy secrets, like the ghoul box under the floor, which looked more like a medieval torture chamber than a rehab center. What else was Toran playing with? Fire, the clothes seemed to indicate. "Unless you're, uh, drillin' down? You been weldin' somethin', too?"
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Toran
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* * * * * *
He points to where the safe has been pulled aside to reveal the hatch cover and the ladder down.

"Carved through to the freight basement of the building next door. It's a condemned warehouse, the only real entrance is a freight elevator. So I've been welding steel plating over the elevator's roof and deforming it's tracks so it can't move. I'm thinking of causing at least a partial collapse over there to fill the shaft. It's a nice space, and it has sewer access. So I'm gonna put in some security doors. That way it's got an exit."

He started down the tunnel, chuckling and waving for Sawyer follow along.

The ghoul "box" was a pristine tiled room with a drain, unfortunately one too small to allow entrance. Several sets chains, all incredibly thick, were spaced along the walls. The newest addition was a rectangular hole carved into the wall. The fittings for a vault style door were leaning next to it, waiting to get set in.

Ducking through the "door" lead to a huge basement, easily 30' by 60' with a 10' ceiling. Various heavy duty power tools were set in neat piles within it. Planks of steel rested against the wall with several fuel tanks for the welder. The manhole cover was set off the side, had been removed and looked like it was being carved to fit another security style door, though the door itself wasn't to be seen.

"What'd you think?"
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Sawyer
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* * * * * *
Sawyer whistled in appreciation. "Damn, dude. Looks like you're gearin' up for a nuclear apocalypse or somethin'."

He smiled mischievously as he looked around the cavernous basement. A 'prepare for the worst' mentality was the sort of thing that'd drive someone to this spectacular level of overkill. It was also very, very Nosferatu. Sawyer smiled- the room reminded him powerfully of some of the passageways he'd helped install in Atlanta's warrens. Of course, it didn't come close to matching the paranoia-fueled fortifications of the depths of the sewers, but it was a start, and pretty damn indicative of a mindset Sawyer knew well.

"This is damn cool," he said appreciatively. "What're you plannin' to do with the space anyway?"
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Toran
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* * * * * *
"Not sure. Spare living space. Industrial 3D printer with a decent computer rig to work the CAD programs. Machine shop. Have to get a better ventilation system first though, because this dust and shit will be hell on circuits. Hell, if the sewer turns out to be nice I might consider bricking that shit up and just keep going down. London's got an assload of tunnels and shit from WWII and a lot of it's abandoned or used for storage. Got kind of comfortable being in a solid space in prison, you know? "Fear of Freedom" they called it. Mostly I just like knowing nobody can jump me because I've got my entrances and exits covered."

He grinned over at Sawyer and shrugged his heavy shoulders.

"And maybe I just read too much Batman growing up. But, I figured if I was going to have guests... or employers... who were dropping by with a severe allergy to sunlight, I might want to consider making sure I had a lot of places they could go where it wasn't an issue, you know?"

He WASN'T... going to flat out say he was building a panic fortress for Sawyer, in case his boss needed it. That, would be desperate, and pathetic. Two things he wasn't doing.

"Boss, you said you didn't wanna know, so I ain't giving you details or nothing. But... if a vampire wanted to... date.. me or something... any ground rules I should know about?"

The big man actually flushed slightly. He was disturbed to realize he was worried Sawyer would be jealous or something... and that conflicted him. Grunting to himself he shook it off and his silver-blue gaze remained focused on Sawyer.
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Sawyer
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* * * * * *
He chuckled slightly. "I'd stay out of the underground if I were you, dude. Keep your excavation to a minimum. All them tunnels and bomb shelters from the Blitz? Built by my clan, and full of, uh, fun stuff. Ain't too many urban adventurers who survive a trip down there."

As amusing as the prospect of Toran wrestling a ghouled sewer gator might be, it'd probably be best if he didn't try that anytime soon. There were too many things down there that didn't take kindly to being disturbed, the dark underbelly of the kindred world, lurking in forbidden place that even Sawyer did his best to avoid. "In any case, this is a pretty damn great bat cave. I know you already know it... but you're one handy dude."

Then Toran asked that question, and the Nosferatu couldn't help but laugh out loud. Not that it came as a surprise- he'd been gettling awfully amorous with that Lucy chick, and Toran had the added bonus of being pretty damn goodlooking- at least for the time being. "For real, dude? Gettin' jumped by dead girls finally paid off for you? Bravo, man, bravo."

He wrinkled his freckled nose, thinking the question over a little more seriously. "Things to avoid? Uh, well, don't drink her blood, but you already knew that. Make sure she's who you think she is, which is harder than it sounds when it comes to our kind. Understand that she's Brujah, right? That means two things- that she can make you feel things you ain't feelin' for yourself, and that her beast might be lurkin' real close to the surface."

Okay, that last one wasn't exactly true for his own Brujah darlin', but he was knew that Aguirre was just as capable of frenzy as any other member of her clan. The girl she'd ripped to shreds, the one that had weighed so heavy on her conscience for so long, could vouch for that.

He shrugged a little. "Anythin' you wanna know more specifically? I, uh, I'm not exactly a relationship guru or nothin', but I'm prob'ly the only other guy you know datin' a Brujah. And also I'm the equivalent of your daddy on the front porch with a shotgun, perfectly willin' to scare her away if she's more interested in eatin' you than bein' sweet."
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Toran
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* * * * * *
"My Daddy was a Lt. Commander in the Navy, he preferred cruise missiles."

Toran nodded thoughtfully, heeding the warning to stay out of the sewers and filing away the fact that it was an entrance into Sawyer's world. That made sense. And could be useful in designing this place a redoubt for his boss.

"She calms me. I don't mean a mind trick thing, truth is I'm pretty stubborn and far as I can tell that stuff doesn't always work right on me. It does, but I don't react right, least going by that shit with Margo. Maybe I'm just too mule headed an asshole or something. I'll keep in mind her Beast. She was pretty upfront about that. Helped me out a little actually. Been feeling a bit... dark side, since the blood. I'm familiar with it though. Didn't know the name you guys had, but when I was... rehabilitating, young ghouls I had to keep them from going crazy because of it."

He sat on a chunk of rubble and ran a hand threw his black, dust and sweat soaked hair.

"Any way to make drinking from her safe? She ain't offering mind... but, if stuff gets rough... er. Just, lemme restart. This bond we got, any way that it becomes strong enough to avoid having someone snap it up? Maybe it's the mojo or whatever, but you seem a bit more level headed than some I've encountered and I'm not sure I'm comfortable with the thought of them being able to snake me out from under you. Though, far as I can tell, she'd be... a pleasant way to go. And what about, if she wanted to bite me? She's respectful about your claim. Mentioned something about it being stealing? But... I gotta admit. Feels good Boss. And, at the right time... it feels REALLY good."

He didn't want to get to graphic and he was pretty sure Sawyer new what he meant, so he asked his last question.

"And... say a guy didn't want to spend eternity living a half world... I already know what coming down from the blood does and truthfully, I can't do it again. It was hard enough before, don't think I could survive it again, and the only thing waiting for me down that road is death. But, you guys don't have to kill, if you don't want too, and you don't have to come trotting along like a baby to Momma either, right?"
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Can't leave... can't leave... can't leave the girls will eat me....
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Sawyer
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* * * * * *
"Eh, mine was a Marine grunt. Though it was usually my mamaw holdin' the shotgun, most of the time."

He grinned a little evilly when Toran mentioned how good things felt. He, ah, agreed wholeheartedly, and he wouldn't begrudge the ghoul that, especially considering that if Lucy was like most kindred, the sweetness of the Kiss would be the only action he was likely to get. Lucy, uh, was like most kindred, right? Scratch that. Sawyer wasn't sure he wanted to know.

"I don't have a problem with her nippin' on you, but I'd like to, y'know, have a bit of a talk with her before I feel confident in sayin' that. Your business, man, not mine. But the other part..." He sighed.

Sawyer had to admit that he'd been putting the third drink off. There was a certain finality in it, and the effects wouldn't just be on Toran. He had to make sure he was ready for the responsibility, and wasn't likely to run off like poor Dove's regent had. He had to make sure he wasn't making the same mistakes he had with his first ghoul. And Sawyer wasn't at all sure he was capable of being the sort of... master... a guy like Toran deserved.

"If I offered you a third drink, you'd be mine, pretty unquestionably. You know that. After that point, you can drink all of her blood you want, but you'll never get beyond the second level- the point you're at with me right now. But... there's a lot of baggage that comes along with that third drink. You know some of that 'cause of them girls you helped out, but... my clan... we're complicated."

"Listen," he said, voice suddenly getting rather heavy. "About the embrace. You don't... you don't wanna talk about goin' down that road so soon. You do, bud, and you lose everything. Every clan's cursed in their own way, but mine... is worse than most. I'm a real bad example to follow- the way I do things, slippin' between the surface world and the sewers like it's goin' out of style, well, that ain't exactly usual. For most of us, it takes years to get to that level, but lots of folks never do. And the embrace... well, ours? Lots of folks never even survive.

"I'm gonna be real candid with you, Toran. I don't intend to turn you anytime soon, and my mind ain't gonna change easily. But more than that- you shouldn't want me to. You think you're livin' a half life now, well, it don't ever get better. I have to know you're ready for everything this curse brings. I never got that choice, but I never would've chosen this if I had."

He fixed him with a serious look, one that didn't quite fit on his boyish face, and wondered what the ghoul would have to say to all that.
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Toran
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The Formerly Hated
* * * * * *
He slips off his fireproof gloves and rests them across his knee, nodding his head in thought.

"Fact that you give a damn speaks a bit, don't it?"

He contemplates, his silver-blue eyes half closing. Then he raises an eyebrow and stares hard at Sawyer.

"Clan curse? You mentioned Lucy's kind, the beast is close to the surface. That sort of thing? So what's yours.... if I'm drinking it, I should probably know huh?"

He wasn't going to push Sawyer on the issues, Boss had a right to his own decisions. He knew it could only be put off for so long though, if what he had learned was true, a couple of weeks and Sawyer was going to have to feed him again anyway, or he'd start dropping into withdrawal. Any reserve he might have had had vanished with the injuries Aguirre left him, and he was being pretty damned sure to NOT think about the supply Mac had left. Man needs to keep a stake for a rainy day. Even a day when you need it to rain blood.

"I realize, to you, I might just be a child. I got no way of knowing how old you truly are. But I'm nearly 40 years old, and my body was coming apart before you stepped in on Mac and insanity's bidding. Folk in my family, well, we don't make it past 70 on average. Bad hearts. But I got the fun card, surprise cancer. So I've looked death in the face, and found myself not enjoying it. I might have the learning of a kitten where your world is concerned, but I can learn. Doesn't mean I'm some starry eyed twihard out to make immortality a teen heart story Boss. When I asked you that question, I knew what I was asking. Where can I sign up to have my humanity irrevocably altered, to become a creature that feeds on the blood of living men and women, to give up the sun and human normalacy forever? I know that's the question. If it's something I need to learn on before you think I'm ready to face the facts. I can do that. As long as I'm walking with one of you, I've got the time right? But don't think I've got kittens and stars in my eyes. I've been on the wrong side of right in most people's account for a long while now."

It wasn't said in a manner that pleaded, or asked for reconsidering. It was just the simple truth spoken by a hard man who had marched down a hard road to get where he was, and was stating that his shoulders were big enough for a new load.
Edited by Toran, Tuesday, 26. November 2013, 05:57.
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Sawyer
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* * * * * *
Sawyer dropped obfuscate's hold on the other man, staring him down with his unnervingly large golden eyes. "Clan curse número uno. You've seen me before. You keep drinkin' my blood, a little bit of the same'll happen to you. But it ain't so bad, right? But here's the thing, bud, I got off real easy."

He paused, leaning against the wall casually as he prepared to info dump on the poor ghoul. Ah, the joys of clan Nosferatu.

"Now there's usually two reason for why Nosferatu embrace, 'kay? Sometimes it's 'cause a candidate's useful, clever, bit devious, 'specially if they're already weird, already outcasts from society. You wanna thrive as a Nossie, you gotta be the type that's used to gettin' shit on your whole life. But then there are those that... don't thrive. The ones the embrace is a real big step down for. Beautiful girls, handsome guys, snatched outta their nice cozy lives and drug down into the dirt with the rats. Why? 'Cause the deader you are, the more capricious you get. The more you like to see folks suffer."

"My grand sire, my mentor, he liked embracin' lots of the latter. Got off on seein' beautiful girls ruined. 'Cept once, when I was still a fledgling, still a kid, he dragged in one girl... and her embrace went wrong. Nothin' more than a writhin' pile of flesh, nothin' human about it, oozin' blood from god knows where. Our embrace, it's unpredictable. Maybe you get lucky, like me, and even if you don't look human, you can tell that maybe you used to be. Or you get unlucky, like her, and then? There are things a hell of a lot worse than dyin', buddy. You'll learn that real quick."


He shuddered a little as he remembered the weeks of hell that had accompanied his own embrace. Filthy blonde hair draped in his face, clawed hands caressing his chest, his screams echoing off the walls of the dingy basement. Stop that, he chided himself. She's dead. You won. Move the fuck on, Flint.

"Some folks think we can get around our clan curse, y'know, by wearin' a mask around all the damn time. It takes years to learn, and some natural talent sure help, but it's possible. That's what I do, and I'm what they call a Skin. We're useful, sure, 'cause we can go places the freakier folks can't. Those folks hate us for it, too, 'cause we can't commit to one world or the other."

His face spread into a horrifying grimace, widening to reveal shark-like rows of teeth, stretching farther than any human expression ever could. "But I'll let you in on a little secret, bro. We ain't bein' spared shit. 'Cause even if we can fool the world, we can't ever fool ourselves. And the more we stick around their world, the more we wanna be human, the more we can't help but hate ourselves for everything we ain't."

As quick as it had disappeared, Sawyer's mask returned, like a security blanket clutched in the hand of a fussy little boy. His eyebrows raised, face impassive. "Any questions? Or are you ready to hear about clan curse número dos? 'Cause that one's pretty fuckin' trippy."

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Toran
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The Formerly Hated
* * * * * *
The guy... doesn't flinch. He stares right into Sawyer's face, grunts thoughtfully and nods his head.

"Lay it on me."

He wasn't surprised to find out some of the monsters could be damned monstrous. It wasn't like he hadn't been told about some of the ghouls that had... changed. Only had to get Mac drunk and screaming about ZeeMeeCee or whatever to know that this vampire shit could have some real horror to it. He couldn't say he was REAL eager to end up looking like a rotting carpet of flesh, or even as weird as Sawyer looked, but he'd never been real hung up on his appearance.

He's also spent enough time making backroom deals and bargains to know that there are usually options, side angles and such that could be followed. Far as he'd gathered, there seemed to be a lot of Clans. If Sawyer didn't want to take him all the way to a third step, he'd probably never want to turn him. He couldn't bring himself to think the next logical step, his mind reached it, then shied away with an unhappy sigh.

The video recordings in his place sort of clued him in though. Sawyer wasn't the one who Mac had taken him too. His own deranged psychotic breakdown had led to this decision.
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Sawyer
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"Right. Number two." He cracked his knuckles, a look of feral amusement crossing his face. "So, every story has a beginning, right? The start of our story is some real biblical shit. Unlife, the thing all us clans share, that's Caine's curse. He's the original badass motherfucker, daddy vampire, whatever. His children's childer are the founders of the thirteen clans. And one of those kids was Grandpa Nosferatu himself. A real handsome dude, by all accounts, 'till he got cursed for his vanity or some shit. Murdered his own sire, Caine's childe, and that set off all sorts of shit. His own childer get cursed, too, so he keeps them real close to him. Except for one brave, crazy bitch, who runs away. That's who we're all descended from. Well, Grandpa hates gettin' outsmarted by her, and swears that with the help of his loyal childer, he'll hunt down this girl and her entire line, so that one day he can sweep up all our ashes and present 'em to Caine, begging for forgiveness."

Sawyer's expression quirked into a wry smile. "Sounds like bullshit? Maybe. That's what the Cam says, at least. That Caine and all his kids are just myths. But Grandpa's loyal servants, the Nictuku, they're still out there. They're still hunting for us. And that's why we're still the goddamn clan of the hidden, thousands of years later. It ain't humans we're scared of, no sir. And that fear, that constant knowledge that we'll always live under threat of extermination- well, that paranoia's just as much a part of bein' Nosferatu as the way we look."

He wouldn't say it, but after years on the outer fringes of warren society, Sawyer had come to think of that paranoia as the true curse, not some evil super vampires out for his blood. Paranoia made the Nosferatu brilliant; isolation forced them to form their own society. But in the end, who could a rat really count as a friend when they weren't capable of trusting anyone?
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Toran
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"Huh."

Toran took a moment to ponder this. His mind turning turning over clues and facets. Analyzing the situation.

"Well, being a fugitive sucks. I know from experience. I ditched the Witness Protection Agency to come here. There's a number of organized crime groups, Russian Mafia and the Triads back home who would like to see my ass greased for the evidence I gave, but it was that or die of cancer in prison."

He massaged his tattooed hand with the other, working out the kinks of the heavy duty tools he'd been using. His silver-blue eyes half closed.

"Now, you implied there's heavy duty shit from the 3rd drink aside from the psychological dependency and servile demeanor. Given the two points you just dropped I assume I'm going to be suffering some of those side effects either way, yeah? So.... how is it much different? Two weeks time you're gonna have feed me or pass me to someone else, yeah? Once that happens I'll be living a mortal half-life, shunned by my kind and considered second to yours, right? That's why you're hesitating?"

He wasn't sure he was all that thrilled at the thought of becoming some warped monstrous caricature of a person, hunted by immortal psychos all his life. But it was sounding like he was a bit fucked either way. He was rather vested in getting un-fucked.

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Sawyer
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He gritted his jaw in annoyance, staring Toran down with the slightest bit of disdain creeping into his eyes. Guy just didn't get it, did he? Sawyer had spent twenty years coming to terms with unlife; it certainly had helped that he'd always been an optimist, a bit of an idiot, a starry-eyed idealist incapable of cursing fate. He didn't regret what he'd become, didn't resent the circumstances that had caused him to wind up here. But by the same token, he wouldn't wish them on anyone else. This existence wasn't a prize to be won, but a reality to be understood and accepted. And Toran?

Sawyer had a real bad feeling that the man had no idea what he was signing up for.

"The life you're livin' right now, why're you so eager to give that up? I'm tryin' to be fair to you, man. I'm tryin' to give you time to look at your other options. I bond you, you're mine. Not that pretty Brujah's. Not your own. Why're you so eager for that? It'll happen, that much is certain. But you deserve your freedom while it's still somethin' you can keep for yourself. And the embrace? That's a whole 'nother level of fucked up. I ain't gonna lecture you about bein' a monster, 'cause that shit's maudlin as fuck. But the practical aspects?"

His tone turned crisp and businesslike, an edge of bitterness bleeding through as he listed what would happen, the consequences that seemed so inextricably a part of his life now that he almost took them for granted.

"The change itself takes about a month. Sometimes more. You think cancer's bad, well, I know a thing or two about bodies devourin' themselves, rottin' away in front of your own helpless eyes. It'll be years before you can show your face in the real world, and even then, you'll never get to show your own.

"No one will ever want you again. The thing you have with Lucy right now? I don't know how much she means to you or nothin', but she's the last woman you'll ever touch who'll like it. But it goes further than that, bud. You'll be the scum of the kindred world; some princes don't even let my kind into Elysium. Lower than a ghoul to some. Always a rat, always pickin' at other people's scraps. And that'll never, ever change.


"But as a ghoul? Oh, sure, it's a half-life, but a half-life is better than no life at all. Little changes come after a few months of exposure to the blood. There ain't nothin' scientific about it, it's just as random as our embraces are. Sometimes physical changes, sometimes just mental ones. Maybe you'll lose weight, start lookin' a little sickly, get a weird glint in your eyes that seems to scare other folks away. But you'll still be human, more human than any of us'll ever get to be."

Sawyer had always regarded ghoulhood to be something like a trial run. Could a potential embracee deal with the stresses and disappointments of a changing body, a callous regent, a harsh and hostile world? Some folks bent, other folks broke. If you knew that long before the embrace, it saved everyone a lot of heartache. Even Nosferatu that survived the change sometimes just flat-out went nuts; a human that could endure, adapt, and thrive was a rare and precious find indeed.

"Look, it ain't like you don't have options. My clan'll want you 'cause you're so goddamn useful, but that don't mean there ain't other ways this can play out. Don't take those options away from yourself so soon. 'Cause here's the thing- you've got all the time in the world right now. Ain't no reason to rush. And if you can't survive life as a ghoul, then you're sure as fuck not cut out to be Nosferatu."

That appeared to be Sawyer's final decision on the matter.
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Toran
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"I think maybe we're coming from some pretty big world differences Boss. So, maybe I need to lay myself on the line a bit, just to try and let you know I'm not some nutjob with a death wish wanting to live forever."

He settles more comfortably on the broken cement pile, though how anyone can call fragmented cement and rebar comfortable is a mystery.

"I left legitimate when I was 22. When I got out of high school I got a full ride to RIT for Engineering, Electronics, all sorts of fun gadgets. Then the world went dark. My Mom came down with the same cancer that is killing me, was. Dad's VA benefits wouldn't pay the bills. So I dropped out of school and started making stuff for people willing to pay good money for it. Card swipes to override ATM's. Thermal jammers that when you stick them to a motion sensor block all the movement. IR Goggles that let you see security lasers, and field emitters you can stick to a wall to replace the beam with you own, giving you the method to move around. I specialized in cracking high tech security, and I was good. I was living the high life. Good cars, good food, great house. I kept my image blue collar because it was easier to stay hidden that way. Ran a legit electronics company as a front. Occasional bar brawl to let off steam, but other than that, model citizen. Because doing it any other way gets you caught. I was good too many. Built shit for the Triad, Tong, Russian Mafia. Couple of black list professionals I suspect used my gear to break into some real high security places. I had one rule though, my shit doesn't get used for killing."

His jaw flexed beneath his beard as he remembered the 3 years in prison for the two assholes who broke that rule. His muscles bunching enough that even the heavy canvas protective coveralls hunched.

"I met Mac when I was 28. This iddy biddy black girl in dreads attacked me outside a club. Fucking thing bit into my neck. Mac sliced her head off with a machete. In the process, shit got into my mouth. Next thing I know I hurl the body through a dumpster and try to get out of there in my truck. So shaken it took a while to get it started. Mac was in the car by then, covered in blood and... well, Mac. She made me take her to my place so she could clean up. When she saw the shit I could make, she wanted me to stick with her, live the life. We hit it off pretty well I guess. I made that weapon harness of hers. Then she left. But, by then my name got into HER circles. Suddenly I've got a reputation as a guy who can make stuff.... and they weren't giving me a choice. Coming down off that bitches blood hurt, it was bad, but the experience taught me some stuff. Enough that when Mac showed up with 2 teenage girls and asked me to dry them out and give them a new start, I did. For the next 5 years I dealt with about 10 more cases like that. One woman... she just crumbled to dust when her detox got bad. Fucker lied to me about her age. I saw the dark shit those ghouls went through, the sex cravings, blood cravings. Flesh desires. I had to tend them, keep those desires from consuming them to help them regain sanity, and THOSE were the ones who had been ghouled less than 2 years. Because after that, it wouldn't work. Too much mental dependency."

He sighed and scrubbed his hands through his hair, respecting that Sawyer is giving him a chance to talk. He wasn't trying to CONVINCE Sawyer of anything, just... explain it. Lay it out like a schematic.

"Then some assholes took my gear and used it to commit twelve murders, and left a way to pin it on me. So I got sentenced as an accessory to murder, multiple counts, with enough felony charges from my shop being ransacked to put me away for 300 years. Maximum Security Pen. First day I'm there some fellow named Boom Boom decides to make me his bitch. He never walked again. I been trying to figure out why Prison was such hell. Usually, a guy my size gives out a beat down like the one I gave Boom Boom, the yardies backed off, maybe tried to shank him later. Instead, it never ended. I had to put 37 men in the hospital and almost had my intestines carved out. Every fight ended with me spending a month in the hole, and EVERY time I went into solitary, I got horrible sick. The shakes, fevers... withdrawal. Since I ran into Mac again, and you guys. Bits of memory keeps coming back. Moving Shadows, some little Asian Nurse on the Night Shift at the Prison. Relentless questions about Mac. Took me a while to figure it out. Only came together a while ago. Old enemy playing with the closest thing she could find to her target. I'm pretty sure she took a lot of my memories away. I'm also pretty sure she did some bad shit to my head, which might be why I react so weird to women of your sort. But then they tell me I'm gonna die and send me into Witness Protection IF I testify against everyone I ever worked for. So I said fuck it, better to die outside than in Prison, right?"

He grimaces, he wasn't sure if it sounded like a sob story or if what he was trying to say would come through. It was a lot of shit to unload.

"Then I snuck off after a couple of testimonies and came here. Illegally." He sighed again and regard Sawyer with his strange silver-blue eyes. "When I make a machine Boss, I don't worry if it's pretty. I worry if it'll work. You tell me nobody'll want me, well, I'm not sure I need to be wanted... and that Aguirre lady of yours seems to indicate that it's not QUITE the lost cause you make it out to be. Yeah, I might get broke and die on the rebuild. I might malfunction and have some problems. But, that's all part of the experiment. To me, and this ain't a criticism, to me it sounds like you're more upset about what you are than I am. I might not know the fancy names for your kind, all your tricks and declarations and such, might not know the politics, but I know the Dark Side of the world pretty hardcore Boss. It don't bother me. You tell me I might spend the rest of eternity in a hole... Boss I'm BUILDING a hole to live in. You tell me people will hate me and want me dead... they already do, and not just mortals. I get you need to test me, see how I'll run, that's fine, you don't send a machine to the line before the prototype gets going. But if you're gonna dance because you think I'm a dreamer... give me a way. Because I got no illusions that the world is a sunshine and Popsicle sort of place. If you tell me that getting change'd will make my face melt off, eh, it's a face. If you tell me I ain't getting laid... well, that'll suck but it ain't the most important thing in the world. I'm looking at your face now Boss, and it don't bother me."

His deep, rolling voice, dark and soft and smooth, like midnight and velvet was calm. He wasn't pleading, he wasn't begging, he added no emotion at all. He just, spoke. Just said his peace without drive or attempt to beg or barter. The only thing the big man wanted, was for Sawyer to understand that their worlds, were probably a bit wider apart than he might get.
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Sawyer
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"Maybe I just had more to lose than you," he said with a bitter sigh.

Sometimes he had to remind himself that mortal life wasn't always as goddamn pleasant for other people as it had been for him. He'd tried so hard not to be bitter over what he was, but under the surface, there was always that yearning for things to have turned out differently. It came with every sunrise, every voice that reminded him of home, every blonde, blue-eyed twenty-something girl he saw on the street, every girl that might be her. Maybe Toran really wasn't leaving anything meaningful behind. But Sawyer had- and he couldn't imagine ever feeling otherwise.

Why was this all so familiar? Big brown eyes begging him, so exacting in their logic, lips pursed into a pout. Two years he'd held out on her, teaching her what he could, keeping her under his wing, before he figured out exactly who he'd plucked out of a Juarez ghetto. There was no sheltering Esperanza from the world; she'd never wanted him to. There was no saving anyone, and he was always an idiot for believing in a world where you could.

"It isn't like I've got anything to lose, guapo."

You shut up, too. You're dead. Quit bothering me.

His temper was rising to the surface, his beast urging him to just end this, end it like it should've ended. What game was he even playing here? How far was he willing to go? The time when decisions would be irrelevant, when his available choices would disappear one by one, was rapidly approaching. And when time ran out, what would he do?

"Look, I don't need your life story," he finally muttered, sounding completely exasperated. "I know you've seen some shit. But hell, man, I'm gun-shy about the whole damn thing. I made the mistake of thinkin' someone else was ready for this, just 'cause she begged me, somebody with all your smarts who'd lived through just as much shit as you. She's a pile of ash in a Las Vegas gutter, so forgive me if I'm a little goddamn nervous about bein' responsible for another childe."

That was the closest to the truth he'd ever be willing to say out loud. Sawyer Flint wasn't one to ever scare easily, but his past fuck-ups had left him in severe doubt about his own competence, with good reason. How was he supposed to be responsible for a fucked-up fledgeling when he was barely responsible for himself?

"All I can tell you is that we'll see. I ain't gonna make any promises I can't keep. I have... thinkin'... to do."
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Toran
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The huge man shrugs his big shoulders and grins behind his ash and soot covered beard.

"Works for me Boss. Know how to use a cement saw?"

He hadn't been trying to convince the other man of anything, just trying to present a vista to give the vampire insight into how his own mind worked. He rose to slip his heavy fireproof gauntlets back on and stomp towards his arc welder, living the slim nozzle and touching it to his forehead.

"You gonna freak if I light this?"

He wasn't teasing, just curious and lacking any desire to freak the vampire out.
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