![]()
|
|||||||||||||||
| Welcome To The Night You find yourself in London on a dreary, foggy night like any other. But what lurks in the shadows is the stuff of fantasies and nightmares, far from mortal reality. This game uses the cursed and immortal vampiric condition as a backdrop to explore themes of morality, depravity, the human condition, salvation, and personal horror. We are a writing and roleplaying community dedicated to telling complex and engaging stories. Your fate is your own. Mingle among the ivory-tower elite in the Camarilla, join the fight of the discontented and chaotic Anarch rabble, or set out independently and attempt to survive in London's nighttime underworld. Anything is possible in our World of Darkness. Create Your Account! If you're already a member, please log in to your account to access all of our features: |
| The Sewer Rose; Attn: Sawyer & Toran | |
|---|---|
| Topic Started: Tuesday, 10. December 2013, 06:47 (1,878 Views) | |
| Margo Moreau | Tuesday, 10. December 2013, 06:47 Post #1 |
![]()
Rebel Toreador
|
Tonight was the night, or at least the first night. Sewer night. Time for Margo to play Rat, as per Caston's pronouncement at the Muse. It was meant to be a punishment, to Margo it was an adventure. Or so she hoped. Margo hopped out of the cab which had brought her to Enfield. She was to meet Sawyer outside The Night Tripper. Sawyer was quite clear on this. It was Margo's first trip into this part of London. The prince had told her to avoid contact with the Anarchs in her presentation. Considering that she had been KILLED by Anarchs Margo had been totally okay with that. Since then, Margo had learned that not all Anarchs, in fact, the majority of Anarchs were not the bloodthirsty zealots like the Parisian ones that had come after her sire in London. But still, Margo was fine with the stay away from Anarchs plan. Margo had got herself a pair of tall black rubber boots, and wore her most paint spattered blue jeans. She layered a couple of t-shirts over her chest and a dark hoodie. She also had her Glock-17, an extra clip and her knife. She fully expected to get covered in shit, and already had a pressure hose ready back in Phillip's warehouse to clean herself later. The Rose found a bench nearby to sit on. She had nothing to do, and she was fidgety. Margo occasionally looked around with her Auspex, keeping watch in this strange territory. But other then that... she waited. Waited. Edited by Margo Moreau, Tuesday, 10. December 2013, 06:49.
|
![]() English French Theme Songs: New Rose by The Damned, Mommy's Little Monster by Social Distortion | |
![]() |
|
| Sawyer | Wednesday, 11. December 2013, 03:00 Post #2 |
![]()
Friendly Neighborhood Vampire
|
The last time Sawyer had scheduled a meet-up in the Night Tripper, it had ended in a wonderful combination of fireballs, stakes, and angry Gangrel- and that was a night he was not eager to repeat. This time he'd just avoid entering the damn place, and maybe trouble would be content to leave him alone. Unlikely. But still, worth a try. He had enough fun planned for the night without fate throwing any further curveballs at him. His target looked about as apprehensive about the Night Tripper as he felt, but at least she seemed prepared for trouble. Margo didn't stick out too much, just a scruffy quasi-hipster glancing around with a bit of trepidation. For his own part, he'd dressed for functionality, not style, tonight. A black backpack full of who-knew-what was swung over one broad shoulder. Always come prepared, right? He shoved his hands into the pockets of his distressed jeans, rocking back and forth slightly on combat-booted feet. A wry smirk spread across his masked face, laugh lines creasing around his blue eyes, as he offered her a short, polite nod. "Good to see ya, Miss Margo. Wasn't entirely sure you'd show. Ready for an adventure?" Not pausing to wait for much of an answer, he breezily headed for a nearby alleyway, each step animated with a bit of buzzing excitment. Whether she was ready or not, he certainly was- the Nosferatu had plans for the wayward little rose, and this promised to be an interesting night at the very least. "Toran'll meet up with us somewhere down there. 'S got his own private entrance or somethin', wants to try it out. Hopefully he won't get lost or nothin' in the meantime. There's a central junction we should end up at, and then we'll take a nice, long walk to Hackney. Ain't the most efficient way to do things, but the aim here's to give you a lil' taste of the Clan Nosferatu experience. Or somethin' like that, I don't rightly know." Sawyer gave a blithe shrug, clucking in mild disapproval. While he'd initially been amused with Caston's proposal for Margo's punishment, it had dawned on him afterwards that taking outsiders into the Nosferatu's secret places was exactly the sort of thing he'd had the shit beat out of him for doing. Now, taking a near-stranger there on Henderson's orders? Well, suffice it to say it was a bitter dose of irony, and Sawyer was less than psyched. While he spoke, he reached down, lifting a heavy iron manhole cover up to reveal rusted iron rungs going down into murky darkness below. With a wink, he hopped down, taking the ladder's rungs two at a time until his feet his solid concrete. The sewer passageway here was wide and empty, with only the faintest trickle of foul water leaving the floors unpleasantly damp. Only a few sodium vapor lamps lit the way, burning low and yellow from the vaulted ceiling above. He peered up from beneath the manhole, a brilliant grin on his freckled, boyish face. "Vámonos, kid! How are the soles on those boots? We have a shit ton of walkin' to do, but hey, at least the scenery should be interestin'." Edited by Sawyer, Wednesday, 11. December 2013, 03:02.
|
![]() Dialogue color = #9F4438 | |
![]() |
|
| Margo Moreau | Wednesday, 11. December 2013, 03:36 Post #3 |
![]()
Rebel Toreador
|
Margo jumped a bit when Sawyer first spoke to her. She wondered if he had tried to sneak up on her, or if she was just that spaced out. Either way, being startled by him was not exactly in line with how she thought tonight was going to start out. "Hey..." she said and then Sawyer was already a few paces away. Dammit She thought. Margo had to quick-step to catch up to him. The new rubber boots she had bought for tonight felt strange on her feet, and they squeaked obnoxiously loud with every step she took. Watching Sawyers gait, she got the impression that he was... enjoying this. The little Toreador was not sure what that meant for her. While she caught up she only heard half of what Sawyer said. Hearing about every other word over the squeak squeak squeak of her boots. "Um sure. A taste of Clan Nosferatu, sounds good. I am actually looking forward to this, not sure if you knew that. Funny thing is, If Caston had made me play hostess at Muse... that would have been horrible. This might actually be fun. I even bought new boots!" As they headed for the sewer entrance and things got darker Margo shifted in her Auspex to help her see, which also brought up the first hints of the smell of the under-London. It did not promise to be pleasant. She kept talking while they walked "So we are going to meet Toran later you said?" Margo was actually hoping it was just going to be Sawyer tonight. Crap. Well she was going to have to deal with Toran at some point. "So, I heard some of the London sewers actually date back to Roman times? Is that true? I'd like to see some of those. Oh, and hey I wanted to tell you that I was so sorry about calling you a Rat, I thought it was just a nickname, you know like Blue-Bloods, or Rose. I didn't know it was an, you know, insult. I felt bad when I was told that. I guess unlike many Toreador I didn't pay enough attention in charm school, actually, I never went to charm school." Margo looked down the ladder into the Sewer. Ugh it smelled horrible. But there was nothing for it. She started down the ladder, descending carefully. Margo was glad there was some lighting down here. She had forgotten a flashlight. Once her feet stepped off the last rung Margo took a moment to look around. Sawyer had asked her a question "What? Oh, yeah. I guess they are good soles. I only just got them earlier. Waterproof. Long walk, got it. Well, its not like I'm going to get tired right?" Margo walked around, trying to keep up with Sawyer, she occasionally stopped to take a look at the old brickwork, or jumped back and forth over the stream of waste that was slowly flowing down the middle. She had a smile on her face. All in all it seemed that Margo was telling the truth. She didn't seem like she felt punished, the Toreador seemed like she felt that this was an adventure. |
![]() English French Theme Songs: New Rose by The Damned, Mommy's Little Monster by Social Distortion | |
![]() |
|
| Sawyer | Wednesday, 11. December 2013, 03:57 Post #4 |
![]()
Friendly Neighborhood Vampire
|
"Roman times, yup. Old drainage ditches that people just kept buryin'. Sure as fuck not in Enfield, but the closer you get to the city center, the more interestin' it all gets. And it ain't like sewers are the only way we get around. You'd be surprised all the tunnels that get abandoned in a city this huge. Underground lines, abandoned subway stations, bomb shelters. Even the post railway, though that one's the goddamn white whale for urban explorers. Hard to get into, harder to get out of." He chuckled slightly, claws clicking against the bricks as he ran his fingertips over them. "Unless you're one of us. We know all these systems better'n anybody with a heartbeat. Sure as fuck is hard to learn it all as a new kid, though." Of course, the greatest of perils for living adventurers were the ones the Nosferatu themselves left behind. Sawyer honestly had no idea how many ghouled things crept through these sewers, fed from the communal pools of blood that lay in the nastier sections of the sprawling warrens. It was always a coin toss to see what sort of deformations Nosferatu ghouls wound up with, but they were always nasty, and in the case of the creatures that guarded this subterranean world, they were also quite deadly for outsiders. "And all that manners stuff? Don't worry about it. Made you look like a bit of a dumbass, that's all," he said with a chuckle. "We're used to worse. Though I thought your primogen might break the table, scribblin' so hard with that pen of his, tryin' to keep it all together. Lucky for you that Torries ain't quite as prone to smashin' stuff as other clans." As he rambled on, the passageway seemed to get ever darker and more narrow. Here and there the scurry of rats' feet could be heard, along with the occasional thump of something larger. Sawyer didn't seem to notice the noise over his own cheerful chattering. "I can appreciate someone willin' to get their hands dirty, though," he continued a bit thoughtfully. "But there's always a place for protocol and etiquette and shit. Gotta learn to play the game if you ever wanna get anywhere. You said you've only been at this, what, seven years? What'd you do before London?" |
![]() Dialogue color = #9F4438 | |
![]() |
|
| Margo Moreau | Wednesday, 11. December 2013, 06:12 Post #5 |
![]()
Rebel Toreador
|
*Squeak squeak squeak, squish squish* Margo's boots added a strange punctuation to the conversation. Sawyers description of the sewers as he saw them gave Margo a different view. An almost romantic, charming one. The old veins below the city, full of secret places and ancient history that you could actually touch. Margo wondered what old bones might be on the other side of bricks, and what ghosts might be haunting these tunnels. The little Toreador had actually expected to see some ghosts down here, but if there were any around, they were hidden. Margo replied to Sawyer "A bit of a dumbass? That's charitable." Margo twisted her lips to one side of her face. She thought back to the meeting. Poor Caston. Margo had to agree with Sawyer, though perhaps it was more likely he would have staked her with the pencil rather then break the table. Margo smiled as Sawyer kept talking. She got her hands dirty every time she painted. She was a messy painter. Margo expected shit would wash off easier then dried oil paint. Then Sawyer said "Gotta learn to play the game if you want to get anywhere..." Margo nodded. Oh, I am playing the game. My way. I guess Sawyer hasn't heard that I'm on the arm of the Ventrue primogen. She wasn't surprised the Nosferatu didn't know yet. It was still hot-of-the presses gossip in London. Margo's plan was to play pretty Toreador trophy on Ryan's arm. To be an extra pair of ears and eyes for him in the city. She would help him plot when the two were alone in the dark, help him keep his head in the game, help watch his back. Margo would do what women have done in the shadow of powerful men throughout history... in the meantime, she had secured herself some borrowed status to use until she had more of her own, and a relatively safe place in Kindred society. Meanwhile, she was now only under the heel of the person that was under her heel. Her powerful bond-mate. Hearts chained together. More importantly, she was now financially secure, and was free to paint and be herself when she was not playing Lady O'Reily. Ryan had offered to get Margo out of this situation with the Nosferatu, but Margo paid her debts. Besides, she was not going to have Ryan spend any political capital on her account. There were more important things. Besides, Margo wanted to do it. The Toreador did start to feel a bit skittish as the tunnels started to get darker, and more narrow. The sounds of creatures moving in the dark was somewhat unsettling. Margo herself was a monster, but she knew full well there were far nastier monsters then her. Sawyer's voice provided a calming effect that cheered Margo from her musing. She said "Before London? I was alive and well in Rhode Island with my mothers. Not much to tell really. I wish I did have things to tell, just before my embrace I was shot in the head. The bullet took away most of my memories along with a chunk of my brain." Margo shrugged "I was here studying for my DFA in Camberwell. My sire had been grooming me for the embrace for a few years, not that I knew that. But her plan went off the tracks when some Paris Anarchs tried to kill her and I got in the way." Margo said these things very matter-of-fact. She did not feel sorry for herself. It happened, she was a vampire now. Just the way it was. While lost in thought, Margo lost her footing and fell into a broken section of the tunnel that was full of trash, mud and shit. The Toreador got halfway coated with it. "Fuck!" she yelled. Margo was on her ass in the crap. She struggled to get to her feet and slipped again. The little Toreador just started to laugh at the whole situation. "Hey, Sawyer. How bout a hand huh?" |
![]() English French Theme Songs: New Rose by The Damned, Mommy's Little Monster by Social Distortion | |
![]() |
|
| Sawyer | Thursday, 12. December 2013, 04:03 Post #6 |
![]()
Friendly Neighborhood Vampire
|
"Shit, that's a tough break," he commented with a sigh. "They never do give us much warnin' for this sort of thing, do they?" At least her sire had groomed her for years, even as rushed as the actual embrace might've been. There was something to be said for having a toe dipped in this strange world before you jumped into the deep end. "So, since you've been here, what've you been up to 'sides assaultin' helpless pedestrians? I ain't seen you around Elysium or nothin', I don't think. I'd remember a face as cute as yours." Before she could reply, he heard a faint squeal of distress. Glancing back, he watched with an eyebrow raised as she slipped and tumbled into the muck. He gave a cheerful little laugh at Margo's consternation, and was pleased to see she was giggling helplessly as well. Good to see the rose wasn't sulking. There was hope for her after all! "Gotta watch where you put your feet, Miss Margo. There's a lot worse than shit that you can stumble into here." His smirk deepened as he looked her over, making no move to help her out. "If you can't pull yourself up, you aren't worth helpin', darlin'. Everyone's gotta make their own way in the world." Sawyer Flint, casual philosopher, even when standing in an inch-high puddle of filth. His blue eyes twinkled playfully as he looked her over, flashing her a cryptic smile before turning around. They had quite a ways to walk, after all, without stopping for little dips in the water. |
![]() Dialogue color = #9F4438 | |
![]() |
|
| Margo Moreau | Thursday, 12. December 2013, 04:25 Post #7 |
![]()
Rebel Toreador
|
Margo scowled. To get traction she had to turn over, got on her hands and knees and dog style it out of the hole. She did this then stood, starting to wipe herself off before she realized it was pointless. It was just moving the mess from one area to other. She sighed. Helpless pedestrians my ass Margo thought. Margo had to catch up to Sawyer again. Grr. "I don't actually spend a lot of time at Muse. Things between Leo and I are... strange. I don't think she is sure what to do with me." Margo shrugged "I come by and help out every now and then, set up galleries, do some curating, stuff like that." She finally got up to Sawyer. "I spend a lot of time just hanging out in the city, Coffeehouses and such. And I stay in my haven and paint of course." Margo went on "While I was with my sire, Esme, we stayed in Camberwell almost all the time, I guess I got used to that. Also..." Margo smirked "I didn't have a car, and I was broke so..." Margo wondered if Sawyer actually just walked everywhere, in which case that excuse wouldn't get her very far. After a few quiet moments, Margo said "This may not be the time, Sawyer. But you and I never really got to settle things between us. The bosses just took over. On a personal level, are you okay with how things came down over Toran and I?" |
![]() English French Theme Songs: New Rose by The Damned, Mommy's Little Monster by Social Distortion | |
![]() |
|
| Sawyer | Friday, 13. December 2013, 00:25 Post #8 |
![]()
Friendly Neighborhood Vampire
|
"I'm sure she'll warm up to you eventually, 'specially if you don't pull no more dumb bullshit. I mean, Leo's so goddamn fun. Just watch her in a fight sometime, man, it's like she's a completely different person!" He grinned brilliantly at the memory of Bishop Machachacha in Camden's ruins, like a tiny lil' valkyrie, still looking flawless even with blood splattered all over her. "Though, uh, she prob'ly wouldn't like me tellin' you that, ha. Got a public image to maintain 'n all." He paused when she asked that last question, feet grinding to a halt. Sawyer thought about it for a moment- he was fundamentally dissatisfied with the fact that the extent of Margo's punishment was basically that she got a free field trip, one his own girlfriend had been punished for in a way that still left the two of them on precariously uncomfortable terms. Certainly, this hadn't been the outcome he'd expected when he'd contacted the Keeper. But what had he expected? More than anything else, really, he'd just wanted to get to the bottom of what the hell happened. "Anyhow... yeah, I don't mind how it turned out. Like, I hope you know I wasn't out for blood or nothin', I just wanted an explanation 'n shit," he said with a shrug. "Toran... well, he's a smart dude, I ain't gonna dispute that or nothin', but he ain't got the sense God gave a goose. Hopefully the both of you learn some sorta lesson from this." That was about all Sawyer had to say about that. If Margo had known the layout of the twisting tunnels beneath Enfield, she might've realized that Sawyer was leading her on a less than direct path to the junction where he planned to meet Toran. The passageways seemed to tilt down, and the murky water deepened; lights were spaced further and further apart, and the entire place seemed was blanketed in a dim, yellow gloom. Nimbly, Sawyer hopped to the stones that lined the channel, keeping his scuffed boots as clean as he could. And somewhere up ahead, a dark and hulking form skulked in the shadows, reptilian eyes sharply alert. |
![]() Dialogue color = #9F4438 | |
![]() |
|
| Margo Moreau | Friday, 13. December 2013, 01:39 Post #9 |
![]()
Rebel Toreador
|
Margo nodded in agreement. Sawyer didn't get anything out of the meeting, but neither he nor Toran were really punished, aside from having to play tour-guide for a Toreador. Whatever might be in store for them as a task, it would seem likely to be something Sawyer or Toran might have done anyway. If anything, she would try not to get in the way. As far as lessons. Margo learned a very important one. Thou shalt listen to Tavin, for Tavin is wise in all things. The two walked for a while in silence, and indeed Margo simply followed Sawyer. Completely trusting his guidance through the tunnels. A long while back Margo shifted up her Auspex to help her see as the sewer darkened, and her rubber boots were made for walking in water so she was able to move okay. Everything was going fine... that is until Margo heard the sloshing of a huge reptile and saw its beady yellow eyes reflected in the dim light. The gator hissed loudly. "Fuck! That's a fucking ALLIGATOR! A Fucking..." Her glock was tucked into her jeans at the small of her back. Margo burned some vitae, giving her the alacrity of the Toreador. In a flash she had the pistol in hand and pulled the trigger... but the gun was entirely plugged up with muck from the fall Margo took. "SHIT!" Margo glanced around for Sawyer, she didn't see him. "Fuck me!" Margo said. She drew out her knife and crouched. A second passed, another. The two predators gazed each other down. The gator hissed again, challenging her. Margo reached down into her beast and hissed back with her Dread Gaze, cowing the creature. Taking advantage as the gator hesitated Margo charged it, still moving with Toreador speed. Margo was able to get behind the gators massive jaw, and she stabbed down with her knife between its eyes... to no avail. Its tough hide held the blade at bay, and Margo had only used her blood for speed. The gator came out its fearful trance and began to turn, seeking to bring its jaws into play. There was nothing else for it. Margo jumped on the thing's back, grabbing on for dear life. Her small mouth and little fangs would have to do the trick. The supernatural sharpness of Margo's thorns cut through the gator's hide, and its vile ichor flowed into the little Toreador's mouth. It was all could do to keep from gagging and stay on the creatures back. Eventually, The Kiss worked its magic, and the gator quieted. Margo pulled out her knife, reversed it and plunged it deep into the creature's eye. It shuddered and went still. Margo rolled off it, coughing and gagging, grasping at her throat. She turned onto her side and vomited up a stinking mess of alligator blood. Margo then turned onto her back and groaned. (OOC: This combat was scripted ahead of time) |
![]() English French Theme Songs: New Rose by The Damned, Mommy's Little Monster by Social Distortion | |
![]() |
|
| Toran | Monday, 16. December 2013, 22:58 Post #10 |
![]()
The Formerly Hated
|
Toran opened the circular vault-like door to his sewer entrance and slipped inside, pulling the hatch back with a thick clang, the metal automatically locking behind him. He had a pair of bulkly night vision goggles over his face and a thick leather coat on over his body, clasped shut to hide what he might be carrying. His pants were black cargo tucked into his combat boots, but a pair of leather chaps were strapped around his legs to make it harder to bite through. He'd sewn patches of kevlar weave through both the coat and the chaps. They weren't as good as a full combat suit, but they'd give a certain degree of protection. His 11" combat blade was strapped to the outside of his pants for this trip, since he had no reason to hide it. A pair of thick cylinders were clasped to his belt, a one smoke grenade, one concussion. Home made so a bit less effective than military issue. His black hair was tied back with a black bandanna and his beard darkened most of his face. A pair of leather fingerless gloves kept his hands safe. Dropping down to the floor of the sewer he consulted the tiny he'd set up to lead him to the junction Sawyer wanted. Inertial guidance was only so good, so he was prepared to get lost. He just hoped he wouldn't. Making as little sound as possible, which for him, wasn't very quiet, he walked towards the junction and his boss. |
![]() Toran's Voice Can't leave... can't leave... can't leave the girls will eat me.... | |
![]() |
|
| Sawyer | Tuesday, 17. December 2013, 06:45 Post #11 |
![]()
Friendly Neighborhood Vampire
|
Invisible to the scuffling Toreador, Sawyer leaned against a rough brick wall and watched as the two ladies got their fight on. In one corner, Margo Moreau, seven years old and with all the wits God gave a tea kettle; in the other, Myrtle the gator, a Floridian immigrant and mother of several healthy clutches of future sewer terrors. Sawyer was, admittedly, more fond of one lady than the other. His bet would be on Myrtle. Since this wasn't an official outing, he figured Margo losing a foot or something would be more than enough of a lesson for the night. She'd grow it back by the time Henny ('fuck that guy', his brain silently supplied, as it always did when he thought of his primogen) came up with a real task for the two delinquents. With this in mind, he kept his eyes on the fight, a smile quirking onto his face when he saw that perhaps the Toreador wasn't quite as inept as he first thought. Good, good. Resourcefulness was better, and a bit of wits and toughness would make this whole affair more palatable. Hell, the girl was redeeming herself in his eyes when she managed to wrestle Myrtle to the ground and mount her rigid back. What a good sho- Shit, too late. He'd been lulled into a bit of amusement by watching the fight unfold, especially seeing Margo bite poor Myrtle, as if her fangs would be much use against the alligator's thick hide. A miscalculation, he realized with dawning horror, as Margo drew back, then slammed her knife straight into the eye socket of the lumbering beast. Gritting his teeth, he lunged towards the suddenly still alligator, clamping one hand down on her snout and prying her freckled lips apart with his claws. As swiftly as he could, he brought his left wrist to his mouth and slashed the longer of his fangs across the leathery flesh. A fresh gash blossomed across the decayed skin, but internally, Sawyer knew it was much too late for blood to do any good. "You CUNT," he yelled at the vomiting Margo as he tried to force Myrtle's gaping maw open. He stuck his freely bleeding wrist inside, shaking it wildly as he looked for signs of life in her one good eye. Too late, he thought hopelessly; it was already glazed over in death, keen gold fading into cloudy, unfocused brown. "No, Myrtle, no," the Nosferatu grunted in despair-fueled frustration, dripping blood onto her lolling tongue. "Please, Myrtle, you ol' scaly bitch, live, damn it!" It was no use, for the ol' scaly bitch was dead as a doorknob. Myrtle hadn't even been ghouled yet, luckily for the Toreador; if she had been, well, it sure as fuck would've taken more than a couple hits to bring her down. As it was, Sawyer just wished the alligator had managed to take a proper bite out of the Rose, maybe relieve her of a limb or two. But alas, no such luck. There was little left for him to do but pull his arm back out and give the corpse a miserable bear hug. "What the hell?!" Sawyer wailed as he clutched the enormous reptile to his chest. "She was gravid, you asshole, a gravid female! Do you have any idea how hard it is to sustain a breedin' population of a non-native species in a goddamn sewer? Any idea how hard it is to get American alligator hatchlin's through goddamn customs?! The fuck you thinkin'?! You couldn't have just fought her off and let her go?!" Fuming furiously, he picked himself back up, blood and vitreous humor staining the front of his black hoodie from where he'd cradled Myrtle's head against him. "You think the best defense against a predator is a good offense, huh? She wasn't botherin' you, this is her goddamn territory! Makes me wonder what the fuck you think is an appropriate response to a real threat, to a real attacker. Now that I think of it, maybe my ghoul shoulda been carryin' a nice pocket knife of his own, shoved it in your eye, poked a hole in your brain. That seems fair, don't it? Ain't like you use the damn thing anyway. You know what the fuck 'disproportionate retribution' means?" He spat nearby, self-loathing bubbling up in his chest. This was all his fault, for exposing a scaly friend to risk like that. His fucking fault. And Myrtle had to suffer for it. Wasn't that great. At least he'd learned there was a little steel behind Margo's cushy exterior. Still, the whole affair reminded him powerfully of the sort of asshole cops that might shoot a barking pit bull, or the kind of person that cut off the heads of copperheads or rattlesnakes just for existing. He might've seen and been responsible for his own fair share of death in the past thirty years, but hell, that didn't mean he couldn't be disappointed in others for succumbing to the same cold logic. And if she shot at him for calling her pragmatic, well, fuck, it wouldn't be the first time. "Alright, Steve Irwin, get your ass up," he grumbled, making no move to help the still-groaning Toreador. With a sour look on his masked face, he licked at his self-inflicted wound and turned to walk away. She could follow him to the nearby junction, or she could just lay on her back and whine. Didn't make any difference to him. |
![]() Dialogue color = #9F4438 | |
![]() |
|
| Margo Moreau | Tuesday, 17. December 2013, 07:56 Post #12 |
![]()
Rebel Toreador
|
Margo, still coughing and sputtering got up onto her knees. She wiped the filth off her face with her forearm. Her thoughts briefly went back to James. He was the Brujah that took her under his wing when she was a fledgling in South London. He kept kicking her ass until she learned to take a hit and give one back. Taught her to shoot straight. After being shot to death, learning to defend herself had been pretty fucking therapeutic. Not to mention occasionally useful. But never, EVER in her life did she think she would be wrestling a goddam alligator. She spat again trying to get the taste of reptile out of her mouth. It had a thick fucking hide; vampire fangs were pretty damn sharp but Margo's were almost too short to get through it. If it weren't for the numbing effect of the vampire's Kiss, Margo was sure she would have lost an arm. At least. If it weren't for her Presence slowing it down and the Celerity of the Toreador she could have never taken the beast in hand-to-hand. Margo stumbled over and picked up her shit-plugged gun. Ironically, Margo thought the creature was a ghoul. If it had been, her fangs would have scratched off the beasts Fortitude like a steel wall. She would have been fucked. At least until she ran away with a bloody stump. Margo's beast was still rumbling near the surface after the fight, and Sawyer screaming at her did little to help. She shot back at the Nosferatu "If you knew this was her goddam territory then why did you bring me here, or at least WARN me?! Can't you Rat's control fucking animals? Something three times my size hisses at me you damn right I'm going to attack it. Better then running away and getting my ass bit off. Or even worse, running blindly into dark fucking tunnels I don't know and finding myself surrounded by even more Margo eating reptiles! At least with Myrtle I knew I only had to fight one!" Margo was fuming "And where the hell were you? If you had helped maybe I wouldn't had to kill her! Fuck, if I hadn't have fallen into the shit and ruined my Glock that gator would have been full of lead anyway!" Margo started to stumble after Sawyer, trying to get her bearings. Margo was a city girl. The closest she ever got to nature was a park or a zoo. And now an alligator. Far closer then she ever wanted to be again. Margo bit back on her temper, and her glare at Sawyer softened. She said "And who the fuck is Steve Irwin?" Edited by Margo Moreau, Tuesday, 17. December 2013, 17:04.
|
![]() English French Theme Songs: New Rose by The Damned, Mommy's Little Monster by Social Distortion | |
![]() |
|
| Toran | Tuesday, 17. December 2013, 14:18 Post #13 |
![]()
The Formerly Hated
|
Shouting. Well, that was probably a sign he was heading in the right direction. Toran reached into the shoulder bag and slipped on a thick fire proof glove onto his arm, buckling the strap at the elbow to lock it down unmoving. It was heavy, the can of silicone spray and propane torch added a good thirty pounds to the glove. He slipped his fingers properly and flicked a light, starting the torch nozzle smoldering, a tiny blue flame resting over the back of his fingers. He flexed his fist just enough to goose the silicone spray and a heavy WHOOSH of fire shot down the tunnel, a ball of flame nearly five feet long and almost ten wide. He'd improved the design a bit since he gave Mac hers, the nozzles were set to a wider spray. Granted, this one wouldn't reach the same steel melting temperatures, but the propane lasted longer and most creatures would back the fuck off if a huge ball of fire shot at them. He relaxed his hand, there was only 10 minutes worth of silicone spray, he didn't want to waste it. The tunnels were green and luminous in his goggles sights. When he ducked his head around the corner he saw Sawyer and Margo approaching. The Boss was almost as tall as him so it wasn't hard to tell them apart. He looked pissed. Huh, well if Margo was treating the Boss the way she treated him he couldn't blame the man for being ticked. He leaned against the wall and waited for the Boss to reach him. Sawyer had made it clear he didn't want to be alone with the woman. But as far as he knew this wasn't their official mission. That was, awkward. He didn't want to spend more time with her than he had too, but maybe the boss was a bit too nice a guy to just say no. Either way he wasn't gonna let the tiny nut job jeopardize his Boss. He's crisp her first and deal with the fallout as he had too. Edited by Toran, Tuesday, 17. December 2013, 15:48.
|
![]() Toran's Voice Can't leave... can't leave... can't leave the girls will eat me.... | |
![]() |
|
| Sawyer | Wednesday, 18. December 2013, 00:21 Post #14 |
![]()
Friendly Neighborhood Vampire
|
He paid little attention to her berating; really, he was already blaming himself for the night's disaster, and he wasn't particularly interested in her input. She might have well been talking to a brick wall- at least until the word rats pierced his consciousness like a knife. Sawyer halted, whirling around smoothly on his heel. After all of that bullshit with her primogen, she was still gonna insist on calling him a rat? If he had the background to do it, he would've launched into a tirade about reappropriation, and how a slur was only appropriate when used by the oppressed group in question. As it was, though, Sawyer didn't have the faintest clue how to word any of that, just that he knew that she knew that calling the Nosferatu that was out of line. At this point, she was just trying to be offensive, which was a damn risky move in another man's home, right after killing his beloved pet. "Were you dropped as an infant or somethin'? 'Cause if so, really, I'm sorry, I shouldn't pick on somebody with a disability. Otherwise, darlin', I'm just forced to assume you are the dumbest motherfucker to ever set foot in these tunnels." His voice was snarled but even, tone dangerously calm. As much as he wanted to, it wouldn't do any good to lash out at this girl, seeing as she was apparently either too dense or too headstrong for it to make an impression anyhow. If even an alligator couldn't teach her a lesson in humility, then damn, she was most definitely a lost cause. "Are you completely incapable of learnin', or just stubborn as a mule? Either way, Jesus, shut that mouth of yours; when you've dug yourself a hole, ya don't pick the shovel up and keep diggin'." He would've kept aggressively lecturing her if a goddamn fireball hadn't suddenly appeared on the horizon, bathing the passageway in fierce yellow light. The tunnels ahead formed a cross, and this particular fireball breezed by at a perpendicular angle. Sawyer jumped slightly, his Beast roaring in protest, but his mind managed to seize back control. Shit, there was only one guy crazy enough to roam through these tunnels with a flamethrower. It didn't take too many guesses for him to realize this was just Toran's affectionate little way of saying hello. He barreled forwards, not pausing to check how Margo had reacted to the sudden flames, and poked his masked head around the corner, only to see the enormous man casually strolling down the sewer tunnel, some ridiculous contraption covering his eyes, with that damn glove on his hand. Man, Sawyer couldn't keep up with all these gadgets, but at least they were cool. " 'Sup, bud," Sawyer said, waving a weary hand and gritting his teeth in annoyance. "Lil' warnin' might be nice next time, you never know who's creepin' around down here." |
![]() Dialogue color = #9F4438 | |
![]() |
|
| Margo Moreau | Wednesday, 18. December 2013, 00:41 Post #15 |
![]()
Rebel Toreador
|
OH! Margo for sure knew that calling Sawyer a Rat was out of line. THIS time she did it on purpose. Margo snapped back "Hey, asshole. If you call me a CUNT I am absolutely going to call you a RAT! I am so sorry If I hurt your feelings!" She fumed. "I may have to learn to shut my mouth in a goddam Rose meeting, but I sure as hell am not going to shut my mouth just because you don't like what I say!" This was spinning out of control. Margo actually liked Sawyer, she didn't want a feud, personal or otherwise. Margo groaned and held her head. She spoke more quietly. "Look, I am sorry about your alligator friend. I panicked. The thing scared the hell out of me." Then, Margo did indeed jump out of her skin at the fireball ahead. Even though it burned out well ahead of her, she took a few steps back. Her beast wanted to keep on running and Margo had to pull the reins, hard. Margo stayed back where she was until she heard Sawyer and Toran greet each other. Even then, she did not move forward. She wanted a precious few moments to herself. Her beast was raging from fear and anger. She had to calm herself. Besides, she was in no hurry to see Toran. At all. Edited by Margo Moreau, Wednesday, 18. December 2013, 00:45.
|
![]() English French Theme Songs: New Rose by The Damned, Mommy's Little Monster by Social Distortion | |
![]() |
|
| Toran | Wednesday, 18. December 2013, 00:51 Post #16 |
![]()
The Formerly Hated
|
Toran was careful to keep the arm with the burning blue propane torch flame well back from Sawyer. He lifted the night vision goggles enough to squint under them. Unfortunately he couldn't see crap in the dark. "Mind if I turn on a light Boss? A less flammable one?" His voice was deep, and he was surprised at the way if echoed through the tunnels, a deep rumble that seemed to come from everywhere. It actually made him jump slightly. "Damn, ok, that's spooky." He muttered as he regarded Sawyer, as always surprised that they were eye to eye, as it happened so rarely. His fist folded causing the knuckles to pop as he took in what Margo was screaming at Sawyer. His jaw bunching up under his black beard and his silver-blue eyes narrowing to slits behind the goggles. "Boss did you warn her Majesty how easy things disappear down here? I remember you telling me to be REAL CAREFUL about the sewers, because so often what comes down, never goes back up." His voice was level, but he was actually projecting this time, like a piece of black iron being hammered by a mountain, a dark rumble that traveled up and down the tunnels like an avalanche. He wasn't outright asking to burn her to ash and smoke. Just like he wasn't warning her to mind her tone around Sawyer or she might find herself vaporized in a fireball. But the message was clear. Back the fuck down or get put down. Toran had an odd temper, insult him, he generally took it and laughed, insult the ones he cared about, bond induced or not, and he'd set fire to your world and piss on the ashes. |
![]() Toran's Voice Can't leave... can't leave... can't leave the girls will eat me.... | |
![]() |
|
| Sawyer | Wednesday, 18. December 2013, 08:26 Post #17 |
![]()
Friendly Neighborhood Vampire
|
"Huh, now that I think of it, guess I didn't warn her. Hah, fuck me for assumin' she might have some common sense about that sorta thing," he said, laughing bitterly. Sawyer Flint wasn't exactly sure what it was about this girl that turned him instantly into a pedantic asshole, but whatever it was, he had no particular desire to be polite any longer. That was out of character for him. The list of people he'd disliked on first impression was pretty miniscule, but when he did find someone who so consistently rubbed him the wrong way... well, it took a lot for the Nosferatu to forgive and forget. "Now, as I was sayin' before my buddy here decided on an impromptu barbecue... see, the thing about rats is we can't change what we are. Not that we'd want to, this condition has its perks. The, uh, furrier variety of rats, well, they're clever, they're resilient, they thrive where nothin' else can. No insult to be compared to them, really, however the rest of the world might see it. But it's an intrinsic quality, y'know? Takin' a shot at it, well, that's almost too easy, seein' as it ain't a part of us we can fix." His tone was merry and bright, the occasional phrase punctuated by a musing sigh. Eyes narrowed, he glanced between the two others with a faint smirk. "But bein' a cunt, hey, that can be remedied. Changin' that is totally within your control. Like Toran here! It was a total cunt move, that first thing we ever did together, but now we're bros 'cause he's a pretty chill guy, his ego's in check, and he knows the value of an apology! Ain't that novel?" Sawyer gave the big guy a cheerful wink and wrapped an arm around his broad shoulders. Toran was also about ten times as useful as Margo and had the added bonus of undying, artificial loyalty... but he figured those qualties went without saying. "Way I see it, y'all should get along real good. Why don't you kids scurry along up ahead, see how good your own pathfindin' skills are? After all, when y'all go on your real mission, you can bet your asses that I am sure as fuck not taggin' along." He unzipped his backpack and pulled a roughly sketched map, passing it to Toran. The only marked tunnels, he'd carefully made sure, were those that most certainly did not lead to the warrens. If they followed the map, they'd be able to make their way to Hackney quite easily, though what they might encounter on the way there was anyone's guess. "Now y'all just follow this here, and you'll be golden. It'll take you all across the city, but it ain't gonna be the most riveting of sight seein' opportunities. Don't go fuckin' explorin'; like I told Miss Moreau, this ain't y'all's territory. Myrtle was one lovely lady compared to the ghouled gators, not to mention all the other fun surprises you might make friends with. I'll be... around. But tonight ain't about me, it's about seein' how the two of y'all work together before you go play in the big leagues. Sound good? Sounds good. Any questions?" Leaning against the wall, arms crossed, Sawyer stared down the pair of them. |
![]() Dialogue color = #9F4438 | |
![]() |
|
| Margo Moreau | Wednesday, 18. December 2013, 09:08 Post #18 |
![]()
Rebel Toreador
|
Margo disagreed with Sawyer's analysis about what the insult of cunt meant to a woman. But she let it go. After all, she certainly had called people a 'dick' but somehow cunt seemed worse, at least to her. Perhaps because she had one, and it got all mixed up with all other sorts of bullshit that women had to put up with. Whatever. The little Toreador was visibly uncomfortable at the thought about proceeding on alone with Toran. But, it was inexorably tied to her punishment. Margo paid her debts. There was one thing she wanted to settle with Sawyer though, after listening to his speech. Margo spoke in a quiet, sincere tone. "I am not sure if you noticed, but I did apologize to you, both in the meeting, and again down here. More then once. I meant each one. Now that things are calm I'll try again." Margo tilted her head and continued "Sawyer, Mr. Flint, I sincerely apologize for being a shithead, calling you a Rat, and killing your pet. I know I can be stubborn as hell. That gets me in trouble. I don't like it when I think people are shiting on me and I protest. That gets me into trouble because it rolls downhill and I am at the bottom of it. On top of that I seem to have two modes since I got shot to hell and died. I am either skittish as a kitten and jump at shadows, or I charge into the shadows like I have a death wish. I'm still trying to figure that shit out. Your Myrtle scared the hell out of me, and I... overreacted." Margo tried to look Sawyer in the eyes. "I am very frustrated about all of this. I actually really like you Sawyer. Not sure exactly why, you're just likeable I guess." Margo waited to see if Sawyer had anything to say, then she reluctantly looked over at Toran, who down here in the tunnel seemed to be about 8 feet tall and monsterously strong. She shuddered, but she was resolved. She said "By the way, Toran. I am sorry I attacked you. Not usually the way I like to hunt. It was a... strange night. In retrospect, I really wish I just took the time to make out with you." She tried to smile. Toran scared the shit out of her, but still, he was one handsome guy. Margo let out a breath that was about half a sigh. In her mind, she had done her best to clear the air. "Right. After you big guy." Margo took a moment to check her knife. It looked good as ever, just dirty. She then winced as she checked out her Glock, it was all gummed up. She was going to have to pull it all apart and completely clean and oil it. Right now, it was useless. Margo frowned. James had given both her weapons to her as a gift and she wanted to take care of them. Just having her gun tucked into the back of her jeans was careless. Edited by Margo Moreau, Wednesday, 18. December 2013, 09:20.
|
![]() English French Theme Songs: New Rose by The Damned, Mommy's Little Monster by Social Distortion | |
![]() |
|
| Toran | Wednesday, 18. December 2013, 13:16 Post #19 |
![]()
The Formerly Hated
|
"You got it boss." It was the only thing Toran said, a dull rumble that echoed weirdly up and down the tunnels. He didn't respond to Margo's apology, or what he thought about her reciting that she should have made out with him. He did lift his goggles up and tighten the strap to keep them on his forehead. Then he clicked on a dim red light on his shoulder, it wasn't much but it was enough to read the map with, even if it did make him look like his face was coated in blood. The 6'4 ghoul was covered in solid leathers, clearly dressed to run into trouble. He unsnapped the button holding his nearly foot long blade in it's scabbard so he could draw it easily if he wanted. He had no intention of getting into it with any of the Nossies critters if he could avoid it. He didn't want Sawyer to think he couldn't be trusted down here. Was the thrilled to be going alone with Margo? Not particularly, but a job was a job. He checked the small inertial guide he'd rigged and then the map Sawyer gave him. He had a feeling it was gonna be a long walk. He turned and started walking down the tunnel, his boots thumping on the hard spots, squelching on the less solid locations. The red light washed in front of him. The advantage was that he could slip down the night vision goggles without a huge adjustment period, down side, well, it wasn't a LOT of light to go on. Then again, he had a method of lighting the area up real fast if he needed too. The blue flame of his right hand casting little flickers along the wall on that side. He was careful to keep his arm a bit out, didn't feel like scorching his pants. He planned to use the fire to scare beasties more than anything else, but it would be damned useful if someone took a stab at him, he supposed. Looked like they were in for a hike. Hackney was 8 miles or so from Enfield, add to that they weren't going in a straight line and yeah, this would be one long damned walk. He had to give it to Sawyer though, clever of him to duck out that way, as a test. Too bad he didn't have the option. He grinned slightly behind his black beard, glad to be ahead of Margo. He wondered how she'd deal with silence? |
![]() Toran's Voice Can't leave... can't leave... can't leave the girls will eat me.... | |
![]() |
|
| Sawyer | Wednesday, 18. December 2013, 21:35 Post #20 |
![]()
Friendly Neighborhood Vampire
|
His mouth quirked in vague amusement, one hand waving dismissively. She could apologize all she wanted to, and he appreciated the gesture, but none of that made a whit of difference in how he'd regard her until she proved herself competent. "Actions speak louder 'n words, Miss Moreau, if you'll forgive a cliché. Do a good job on this, things'll be right as rain." On that note, he vanished from their notice, though in reality, Sawyer was going nowhere. He intended to follow the pair for the entirety of their mission, observing just how well they'd manage to work together, and intervening if necessary. He hoped, at least, that the both of them would manage to function well as a team, regardless of a lack of experience skulking through sewers. Sawyer thought back to what he'd been like only seven years dead- mostly, the plaything of his grandsire, triple-bound and utterly scorned, not yet quite adept enough at obfuscation to blend into the world above. He'd had every inch of resistance beaten out of him by the vicious elder who owned his sorry ass. Humility was the first lesson a Nosferatu ever learned, and the one most necessary for their survival. Pride was a luxury he could never afford, at least not as a young vampire still learning the ropes of the kindred world. How, he wondered, had her sire or mentor failed her so badly? With that in mind, he wandered behind them, curious to see what they'd do next. |
![]() Dialogue color = #9F4438 | |
![]() |
|
| 1 user reading this topic (1 Guest and 0 Anonymous) | |
| Go to Next Page | |
| « Previous Topic · The Borough of Enfield · Next Topic » |













3:18 PM Jul 11