Vampire The Masquerade RPG
Welcome Guest [Log In] [Register]


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

Register -:- New Posts -:- Active Topics -:- The Staff -:- Contact Us
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:

Username:   Password:
Locked Topic
  • Pages:
  • 1
  • 6
[ARCHIVED] - MiniQuest™: Alarik's Arthurian Adventure; Alarik, Jhael, Margo, Ronnie
Topic Started: Thursday, 2. January 2014, 01:59 (4,632 Views)
Alarik
"Papers, Please."
* * * * * * *
Schloss Weinberg, Waren, Federal Republic of Germany

Standing on a pier that jutted outwards from the shore, Alarik Blücher looked southwards over the Binnenmüritz, watching the lakes' ripples turn from dark blue to black. His long, beige coat fluttered about his body in the gentle breeze. The cold tingled against his cheeks, but it was not uncomfortable. The winter had been mild and, even now, there were a few ships about the lake, their sails set for home, to ferry their sailors towards warm meals and warm beds. More distantly, the traffic of the Elbe flowed, a steady flow of large, flat-bottomed ships.

Beyond those black-rippled waters lay the forested shores of Müritz-Nationalpark, over three hundred square kilometres of forests, interspersed with swamps, meadows, lakes, runs, ditches and brooks. The place, he'd learned, was heaven to red deer, cranes, white-tailed eagles, hawks, rodents, countless species of fish and God-only knew what other beasts that wouldn't be in any tourist manual. It was close to a Kindred's idea of hell. A no-go zone that lay far beyond the cities' brightest lights.

They would go there tonight.

The sound of footsteps on the wooden planks could be heard. Jhael had summoned the party here, as he'd been ordered to do. The lad had been very busy during the last two nights, overseeing the private transport of three crates to Berlin, and then again by truck to the Ventrue headquarters of this small, East German town. A white-washed Grand Villa on a hill that pretended to be a Schloss. Even the day had been spent usefully, visiting the Müritzeum and then scouting out the park itself. Only a few hours of sleep had been permitted to the him before sunset, and the inevitable briefing.

He's been a useful lad. He shall be fed if he survives the night, the Ventrue resolved. He turned around, nodding first towards Jhael, and then towards the two 'volunteers' who had agreed to accompany him. The young Brujah and the young Toreador. His heavy and his third eye.

"Mr. Lockhart and Ms. Moreau. So grateful that you could join me here, tonight", he intoned gravely. "I apologise for having been... scant... in my explanations of this journey's purpose. Things will be made clear to you in a few moments, after which there shall be time for questions."

He turned his back to them, gesturing across the shore to the great, wild beyond with a wide arm.

"Over there in the forest is the 'place of crows', as the Slavs called it. My grandsire helped to conquer it from them during the time of the Wendish Crusade, and his seven childer constructed a small fortress there. A stronghold to keep these lands from the fiends. At least, so one of my ghouls told me, before he met his demise."

He turned again, sideways now, placing his cold, white hands in his pockets as he continued on a lighter tone: "Jhael here has been busy during the day. He's identified three areas whose features match both the description of the stories told by my sire, and the geomorphology of the terrain. Conveniently, they can all be reached by boat. So we should be able to avoid too much travel through the thick of the woods."

The distant humming of an engine could be beard as the Prince turned his head towards Ronnie and Margo: "Any questions so far?"
Posted Image
Offline Profile Goto Top
 
Margo Moreau
Member Avatar
Rebel Toreador
* * * * * *
Margo had been determined to be better prepared for this adventure then she was for her descent into the sewer. So what if all the gear was brand new and the leather still squeaked. She would be damned if she would end up slogging half-naked and frozen again. She felt like a cute little commando, and the beret went with the pixie cut.

She did quick inventory; Glock-22, ammunition for both & extra clips. Her silver-coated steel knife, the most rugged, impact and water-resistant smartphone she could find, backpack with waterproof compartments, change of clothes, two blood-bags, duct-tape, Swiss-army pocketknife, survival/first aid kit, two sleeping-bags, Her old Glock-17 and an extra clip was stored in one of the waterproof compartments in the backpack.

Amazing how well you can equip yourself when your boyfriend is a multi-millionaire. It had taken some convincing to get Ryan on board with Margo's adventure with the prince, but ultimately... well, it was something to get in favor with the prince.

The Rose turned more solemn when she got a sense of the Prince's mood. Margo didn't really have any questions, so she shook her head in answer to the prince. She glanced over at Mr. Lockhart she had never met him before. "Hi" she said to him "Margo."

Margo occasionally picked off a splinter of wood or packing material left on her new black and grey camos from being shipped to Germany. She was listening carefully to what the prince was saying, though she was not looking Alarik in the face. She was already scanning around with her heightened senses, feeling a bit on edge. The huge forest loomed over the water. Its tall pines like huge green teeth hungry for the taste of vampire.

I should have asked for a boon Margo thought ruefully.
Edited by Margo Moreau, Thursday, 2. January 2014, 13:47.
Posted Image

English French Theme Songs: New Rose by The Damned, Mommy's Little Monster by Social Distortion
Offline Profile Goto Top
 
Jhael
Prince Blucher's Dinner (still not quite house trained)
* * * * * *
Jhael shook the last droplets of Red Bull out on his tongue before crushing the can under his military surplus boot. The pockets of his olive fishtail parka held three more, which he hoped was enough along with a couple in his backpack. The rest of his carry space was taken by a few canteens of water, his rations (trail mix, smoked jerky, peanut butter and cans of tuna ftw) and an inflatable travel pillow. Under his coat, the concealed carry vest and belt held his survival knife, Springfield Armory XDM, Maglite and sheathed blade. A bit of vivid red from a Young Pioneer scarf peeked from between the fur lining the parka.

Not wanting to litter, he stuffed the crushed can in the side pocket of his pack while his boss addressed the little crew, then squinted out over the lake. His platinum blonde hair was unstyled, hanging in limp strands that blew over blue eyes only alert from the buzz of ridiculous amounts of caffeine. Lack of sufficient sleep fueled a sense of unreality that helped him cope with Mr. Blucher's casual mention of dead... others. What happened to them didn't matter. He'll be The One that makes it and is fated to be with his boss forever and ever and the others were inferior and only there to help until he came along and that's just how it had to be.

Loaded with Red Bull and certain of this, Jhael kept his mouth shut on the side of the dock. His imagination spun with every horror movie monstrosity and he narrowed his eyes to all those dark trees across the lake. Come at me, he thought, already psyching himself up to fight since flight isn't an option.
Offline Profile Goto Top
 
Ronnie
Member Avatar
Ancilla
* * * *
It was quite nice to be back in Germany for a few days and to talk some German here. A mission that promised to be an adventure was always a temptation for Ronnie. And he hoped that the Prince would then finally take him a bit more seriously. But that Ronnie had been accepted for this mission should at least mean that he wasn’t expected to be a total failure? So he better proved that he truly wasn’t.

Ronnie was wearing black combat boots, khaki cargo trousers, a long sleeved black shirt. He had a gun with him, a few stakes (just in case, but it somehow seemed unlikely they would encounter any kindred there, but he didn't know beforehand where they would be going), a knife, his “black lady” (quite a long dagger), all hidden under his black leather coat, in special compartments of a black vest. He also had a backpack, but only a small one, with trousers and a long sleeved shirt in it. If things got messy it would be a good thing not to run around with torn or blood stained clothes.
He hadn't know what all this was about, so he had just the standard gear with him that he would use for any such mission where there were no requests for special gear.

The young looking woman, the Brujah hadn’t met her before. She said “Hi” and introduced herself just with her first name, that was very much to Ronnie’s taste. And maybe it meant she wasn’t one of those very arrogant ones. Good.
“Hi, I’m Ronnie”, he replied to Margo and smiled at her.
If the Prince would call him Ronnie, that would sound odd really, and someone like him surely wouldn’t do that. But hopefully Margo would.

Seven childer? Nowadays surely nobody was allowed to have that many childer.
But what was a demise? Death maybe?
Sounded as if that might be a treasure hunt. And there it was, Treasure Island. A thick forest wasn’t really very inviting.
“What exactly are we looking for? Might there be others looking for the same stuff?”
Competion would make it a bit tricky. Might there really be other people at exactly the same time? But why would the Prince take a Brujah with him if he didn’t expect some possible danger? Who needed a bodyguard in the wood, normally?
Bad boy Ronnie, Pictures of Ronnie
Posted Image

English German
Offline Profile Goto Top
 
Arnold
Member Avatar
Childe
*
I am running through the thick of the forest, tall black lines whizzing by haphazardly. The needled branches sting. The roots are treacherous, and my heart skips a beat at the mere thought of falling. I am in flight. I can feel two sharp black eyes in my back. The eyes of dogs. Of Hunters. Rasputin's Eyes, all aflame. I cannot hear my foe-man, but I feel the encroaching presence in my throat. It is close now. I cannot get away.

The night sky is lit up, as if it were touched by the sun's own rays. Stalin's Organ plays its terrible song. There is fire. Fire everywhere. Consuming my flesh as if my body were mere kindling. It melts my bone, licking at my every nerve. I howl and claw, twist and turn. Rötschreck takes its hold over me. I feel like a mere spectator while I fight off the flame, as if it were an enemy given form. It must be Rasputin. Cursed wizard. I tear out Flame's throat and spit it out with my dying breath, my lips searing and blackened by the touch.

When the Red Fear passes, I wake. Alone, below a low ceiling and in an unfamiliar room. The mattresses of this small cabin have been twisted and torn to shreds by fangs and clawing hands. It is a mess. I feel disoriented, and curse. It takes me a while before I realise that I am on a ship. A while longer before I remember why. The dream, as always, is just as real to me as the waking world.

The sun has properly set when I surface to unmoor my rented motor boat, a Bavaria Sport 34 HT that sports a Federal German flag on its rear end. The humans are going home. I hide myself from them, but my ears are sharp enough to understand their distant, happy chattering. A world that is lost to me forever.

New things await tonight. Better things. A text message confirms that Alarik has taken up residence on the north side of the lake, bringing with him one ghoul and two Kindred volunteers. Expendable volunteers, I'm sure. My little brother never risks any asset that he wouldn't sacrifice in a heartbeat. A cold-hearted approach. He is just like our Sire in that regard. But at least he's shown up. Which is more than can be said for the others.

I speed northwards, across the waters, going as fast as this sleek pleasure-boat can go. 39 knots, according to its specifications. It'll probably slow down considerably when the others have dumped all their modern gear and toys in the back rooms, I think. Too much dead weight can kill a man. I should remind Alarik of that, some time during this trip.

He is waiting for me on the pier, just as he said. I interrupted their conversation. I don't care, though. I stand at full height and toss a line towards one of the men, who promptly catches it.

I'm probably not the Ventrue they expected.

My heavy military boots thud heavily against the wooden planks as I jump ashore. Wearing my long greatcoat, I must seem a relic from an unpleasant past. My ashen face is burnt away. Freshly burnt by the Dream, long scars cut through by the Flame, even through ashen lips. I cannot possibly be mistaken for a human, and that intimidates the Kindred that still cling to their humanity. Their eyes judge me, even if the words won't pass their lips.

Alarik knows better. He drops to his knee and looks upwards with open eyes while his lips touch the iron signet ring that is wrapped so tight around my shrivelled, bony fingers. I motion for him to stand, then wrap my arms around him tightly. He stiffens. Again, I don't care. I address him in German, our shared mother tongue:

"Little brother. Come down from his throne to hunt with his old Master one more time, eh? Come on, introduce me to our new comrades..."

color=#4D5D53
Offline Profile Goto Top
 
Alarik
"Papers, Please."
* * * * * * *
Alarik still wore that same bittersweet smile when he turned away from his former Master and towards his London retinue. The hug had been... uncomfortable, but then, Arnold had a way of using his presence to great effect.

Turning to face the group, he introduced the new figure: "This here is Mr. Arnold Blücher, Peer of the Realm." It sounded impressive, but it was simply Ventrue-speak for 'really old vampire in good standing who somehow does not hold any clan- or Camarilla office'. Not that anyone besides the pair was likely to know about that.

"He may be addressed as Sir Arnold." As opposed to Prince Blücher, whom Jhael would informally refer to as 'Sir'. No way was this going to get confusing, as long as everyone remained precise in their forms of address!

"Sir Arnold is my former Master, and elder brother of the blood. From this point on, he will have overall responsibility for the mission. I am his second in command in all matters related to this operation. Obey him promptly, and you will find that he has great caring for his brothers in arms."

He continued to point out each member of the group, in German, starting with Ronnie: "Das hier ist Herr Lockhart, Wiener, aber keiner von den Magiern. Wir können also Breidensteins Pflöcke im Schkrank lassen. Er wird unser Beschützer sein."

The Prince nodded curtly as the two men exchanged a stern handshake, noting the squeeze that Arnold put on the Brujah while locking eyes on him, probably testing him. He supposed that it was some man-to-man brothers at arms thing that he'd never quite experienced during his own (peaceful) stint of military service.

Next, he pointed out the lady in the brand new Commando getup: "Das ist Fräulein Moreau, Neugeborene des Clans der Rose. Ursprünglich aus der Neuen Welt wurde Sie im schönen Paris erzogen."

The two Ventrue exchanged a look that ended in the thinnest of smiles on the Princes' part. He wouldn't exactly apologise for bringing an American on board, but he could at least point out that she'd learned the ways of the Kindred on the continent. It'd improve Arnold's impression of her beyond the one that would be given when he'd hear her accent.

Indeed, the hulking, walking corpse proved himself quite the gentleman as he bowed deeply, the bottom of the greatcoat parting near his legs as he grasped her perfectly manicured hand, his burnt, blackened lips pressing a kiss on it: "Ein Vergnügen, Ihre Bekanntschaft zu machen, Fräulein Moreau"

Finally, he gestured to Jhael: "Dies schließlich ist Jhael, mein Ghul. Er fungiert als Assistent der Geschäftsleitung."

The older Ventrue simply nodded. No need to shake hands with a ghoul. Alarik understood that perfectly well.

Returning to the English language, he addressed the group at large: "The operational language of this mission shall be English. Keep it simple, and Sir Arnold will understand what you are saying." - Hopefully. Mostly. - "If translations are needed, I will provide them."
Posted Image
Offline Profile Goto Top
 
Jhael
Prince Blucher's Dinner (still not quite house trained)
* * * * * *
ZOMPOC!

Jhael might have thought come at me to all that dark wilderness, but he didn't expect the wilderness to respond so promptly and send this kind of "bro."

It hugged Alarik! ARNOLD?! NOT what he expected, not at all. Every mental image that he had in his mind about Mr. Blucher's past and old boss crumbled with this zombie thing. Sir Arnold's simple nod to him may have been a slight against Jhael's status, but the mortal took it with relief and forced his head to return the nod. He didn't want to shake hands with it and catch the zompoc virus. Poor Margo over there had to suffer a kiss. Ew. He might have brought a few packets of moist towelettes. Maybe he'll offer one later... but out of Sir Arnold's sight. Monstrosities don't make him forget his manners anymore.
Offline Profile Goto Top
 
Ronnie
Member Avatar
Ancilla
* * * *
Who was that?? In any case, not a Mr. Nice Guy, that was for certain. He looked like the soldier from hell. Friend or foe? Friend, luckily, if not a friend you would tell your worries to.
Seeing the prince kneeling in front of somebody, well well, that was a novelty indeed. That alone was almost worth the trip. None of the other kindred of London would surely ever get to see something like that.
Ronnie understood the words that were spoken in German of course…after all, he was an Austrian originally, so German was Ronnie’s mother tongue, too.

Little brother? That was a Ventrue, and they had the same Sire?
Yes, obviously, just that Sir Arnold was a lot older. And for this mission the Prince would be even just the second in command.
Were they going into some battle? That Ventrue certainly looked like that. Ronnie wouldn’t have guessed he was a Ventrue. He looked like a hardened fighter, and that alone certainly wakened respect in Ronnie. But Ronnie was no coward either, he was a Brujah and proud of it, and a Brujah didn't crawl, not even towards someone who was older, stronger, more powerful. You could show respect without being a mouse. And Ronnie was supposed to be their protector, surely they didn't want a mousy protector.
And so he looked Sir Arnold straight into the eyes and didn’t let himself be intimidated by the stare. Sir Arnolds handshake was firm, but Ronnie’s too.

“Guten Abend, Sir Arnold. Ich bin Neugeborener des Clans Brujah.”
The sound of his dialect certainly confirmed that he was Austrian, despite his English name. And Ronnie simply had to mention he was a Brujah.

Bad boy Ronnie, Pictures of Ronnie
Posted Image

English German
Offline Profile Goto Top
 
Margo Moreau
Member Avatar
Rebel Toreador
* * * * * *
Margo was brought out of her brooding over the distant forest when Arnold arrived. His stature and status was only increased when her prince showed him such deference. To little Margo, it felt like she was in the presence of an elder for the first time. Her sire actually was an elder, but compared to her, there was something about Sir Arnold which inspired a terror in the Roses' heart.

Margo had seen Nosferatu unmasked. Sawyer had the countenance of a teddy-bear in comparison to Arnold, or so it seemed to her in this moment. She stood numbly as she was introduced. Focusing on keeping her little mouth from dropping open. Her whole body trembled like a baby bird when Sir Arnold clasped her hand and gave her a kiss in greeting.

"Hello... sir" she managed. It took some time after that, but hearing her own meek voice finally sparked some resolve in the Rose and she stiffened her backbone. She shook off the horror best she could and tried to fall back into her watchful mode. Looking for the threats that were not actually on her team.

Then Alarik spoke "English, got it." Margo said in a voice that sounded more like Margo. Or French if you prefer Margo thought to herself. Somehow she didn't think the German contingent would be entirely happy with either option.
Posted Image

English French Theme Songs: New Rose by The Damned, Mommy's Little Monster by Social Distortion
Offline Profile Goto Top
 
Arnold
Member Avatar
Childe
*
I keep my first impressions to myself. The young Brujah seems to have the heart of a warrior. This heart might still be tested under pressure, but at least it has not faltered at the first sight of... me. The same cannot be said for the Toreador and the ghoul. Though they try to hide their distaste, I can smell it almost as vividly as I can smell the abominable scent of that energy drink that the ghoul keeps in his pockets.

I wait for the whole party to have climbed on board before I have my younger brother pass the instructions on the three locations to me, and make sure that the ghoul was clued in on the plan beforehand. The first location is still an hour away, and so I turn to the ghoul, my cold, black eyes burning into his.


[Dominate/Command] "Sleep", I tell him, watching the ghoul stumble down the ladder towards the cabin with the torn-up mattresses. The ghoul will have to get his energy unaided, not by drinking this... 'Red Bull'. I look at the cans that I find in the ghoul's back pack with disdain and show them to my little brother before I hurl them overboard. My little brother assures me that his ghoul will be punished. I believe him.

"Do not wake the ghoul before we need him", I order in my thickly accented English. It angers me that my little brother is overworking his ghoul. Does he not remember the time when he was mine? Still. I keep this to myself. There is no need to quarrel about such minor things tonight.

Unmoored once again, the motor boat speeds off. I sit behind the wheel, glancing around ever so slowly while I steer the ship so that it hugs the coastline of the larger lake. Alarik stands beside me, facing backwards towards the deck, where Moreau and Lockhart remain. He explains the particulars, far more eloquently than I could manage in the tongue of the English.
color=#4D5D53
Offline Profile Goto Top
 
Alarik
"Papers, Please."
* * * * * * *
While leaning against the small heightened space beside the steering wheel, Alarik glanced between the two acessories to tonights' objective. First, he needed to instruct Margo, whose job as a scout was the most pressing, as it had to be carried out from this point on.

"Miss Moreau, kindly keep an eye on the coast line using your Discipline of Sight. We are looking for a fortress that has been permanently hidden, using an advanced method of Obfuscation. It should be on one of the locations that Jhael has found, but... it never hurts to look elsewhere, too, in case my ghoul was mistaken."

The younger Ventrue reached into his own, small back pack and unfolded a touristic map of the area that Jhael had obtained in the visitor's centre. "This whole area is a park, so if you see a building - any building - we can cross-reference with this map. Good luck."

He noded curtly, then turned to Ronnie: "Mr. Lockhart, it will be your job to watch out for potential enemies. The Prince of this area assured me that there has been a long-standing unofficial 'truce' with the were-beasts in this area, but we cannot count on such notions to protect us when we are venturing onto their turf. Watch the coast, and watch the water. A mature werewolf could approach unseen from below if you do not keep your eyes open."
Posted Image
Offline Profile Goto Top
 
Margo Moreau
Member Avatar
Rebel Toreador
* * * * * *
Margo bristled slightly at the treatment of Jhael. She considered the ghoul a friend. Though that fact would never be uttered in present company. Ever.

Margo pulled out the antique, but masterfully made knife that had been a gift from her first immortal lover. It was a fine steel blade coated with silver. "Feel free to make use of this should a wolfie come howling." She held it out to Ronnie.

Margo then nodded at the prince's instruction. Even in the relative dark, she should be able to pick out a building... wait, did he say an Obfuscated BUILDING?! What kind of serious shit were they in for? That did not sound like a trick just any old kindred can do.

Nonetheless, Margo grabbed onto the rail of the lurching boat as it rocketed over the water. Straining her eyes towards the shore best she could. While she was at it...

Margo took a long look at Sir Arnold, bringing his color's into focus. Alarik might have every reason to trust him, but... there was always the possibility this was a trap for her prince. Might as well check and see what might be seen.
Edited by Margo Moreau, Friday, 3. January 2014, 22:23.
Posted Image

English French Theme Songs: New Rose by The Damned, Mommy's Little Monster by Social Distortion
Offline Profile Goto Top
 
Ronnie
Member Avatar
Ancilla
* * * *
Jhael had made a bit of a tired impression, so it was quite good really that he could sleep now.
Finally they got to know some more details and what their tasks were for now.
Werewolves? The Prince really could have told them that beforehand. Then at least Ronnie could have tried to get silver bullets and a knife with a silver blade. Not that it was so easy to get such things. But Ronnie supposed the Prince didn’t tell them about the werewolves because then Ronnie and Margo might not have come with him.
But if the Prince hadn’t taken care to get silver weapons and didn’t tell them anything about that before, then at least it wasn’t Ronnie’s fault he didn’t have the suitable weapons. But he didn’t comment on that.

Margo had a silver knife! Great!
“Good…thanks.”
Ronnie took it, he had a closer look at the knife and then stashed it in his vest.
Very likely he would not be able to win a fight against a werewolf, but the knife gave him at least a bit of a chance.
Ronnie took off his backpack. He wouldn't need any extra clothes when they would leave the boat.

After the Prince had given Ronnie instructions, the Brujah just replied: “O.K.” and started to watch out for the beasts, in the water and the coast. So those damn wolves might be swimming in the water to get at the boat, maybe even diving? How charming.
There must be some pretty important treasure in that fortress, so that the Prince even risked his own unlife to get at it.
Bad boy Ronnie, Pictures of Ronnie
Posted Image

English German
Offline Profile Goto Top
 
Arnold
Member Avatar
Childe
*
The motor rumbles gently as the boat proceeds along the coastline, drawing us further and further away from the human civilisation that hosts our kind. Without the cities' bright lights, everything gets darker. The only sources of light available to us now are my radar screen, the stars and the waxing crescent moon.

I will not suffer the use of flash lights and other artificial means that could draw the attention of other beings. We are hunters. The sharp eyes of the Brujah and the sight of the Toreador will have to protect us from sudden attacks.

Over time, the winter's chill draws into our cold, dead bones. A fog creeps out of the lake, smothering our boat in a thick white curtain and flooding the lower recesses of the coastline, as if it were high water. These circumstances, being so immersed in nature, naturally draw men into quiet contemplation. The occasional whisper between me and my little brother, discussing navigation, remains naturally respectful of this quiet composure.

Where men don't talk, the ears attune themselves to other things. The forest is alive with creatures of the night, which can be heard from such a short distance. Skittering, flapping their wings, burrowing and running away at the sound of our advance. Once I think I hear a howling, but the sound is so distant that I cannot place its origins. It concerns me, but I do not feel the need to share this concern. The other Kindred will have heard it too, and will have drawn their own conclusions.

Following my little brothers' directions, I steer the boat into a small inlet, the roar of the engine slowing to a mere sputter. Relying on inertia, I allow the ship to glide around the bend. High trees surround us on all sides now. Black giants that have eaten all the stars. The waves made by the boat collapse against the mossy shores. A small creature darts into the water, submerged, not seen again. The boat stops.

I look at the Toreador. 'Well?' my expression conveys, the part of my skull that once sported eyebrows raised in a deliberately exaggerated fashion. It is difficult to convey emotion when the Flame has left so little of my face. We shall see if this is the place where our ancestors once dwelt.


OOC for Margo and Ronnie
color=#4D5D53
Offline Profile Goto Top
 
Margo Moreau
Member Avatar
Rebel Toreador
* * * * * *
(((Yellow))) (((Eyes)))

Margo and yellow eyes stared at each other over the distance of dark water between shore and boat. Her skin crawled up her spine as she envisioned the possible nightmares that might be attached to those eyes.

Margo crouched low behind what shelter the boat's hull could provide between the deck and rail. She hissed out a loud whisper to her companions "There, in the bushes... something... yellow eyes..." The Rose bit back her fear, pulled out her pistol and drew a bead on the eyes. In addition, the barrel served to point out the direction of the threat to the others with her in the boat... provided the eyes were still there...

While scanning back into the darkness Margo muttered "Whatever it is, that is the brightest aura I've ever seen"
Edited by Margo Moreau, Sunday, 5. January 2014, 01:24.
Posted Image

English French Theme Songs: New Rose by The Damned, Mommy's Little Monster by Social Distortion
Offline Profile Goto Top
 
Ronnie
Member Avatar
Ancilla
* * * *
Ronnie kept staring at the water and at the shore in turn, but didn't spot anything that looked like a werewolf.
A howling…very likely a werewolf. Normal wolves didn’t exist in Germany any more, or that was at least what Ronnie thought.

When the boat stopped additional caution was important, the Brujah didn’t need telling.
He strained his eyes and looked out for whatever danger there might be lurking in the dark. There was something…yellow eyes, could that be?
But when Margo whispered about the yellow eyes, then he didn’t see them any more.
Brightest aura? That didn’t mean at thing to Ronnie.
“I’ve seen the yellow eyes, too, but not any more”, he whispered.
Could Margo still see them?
Bad boy Ronnie, Pictures of Ronnie
Posted Image

English German
Offline Profile Goto Top
 
Arnold
Member Avatar
Childe
*
When I hear the whispered warnings, I do not turn my head to acknowledge that they have been made. Nor do I wait. The engine roars to life again as I pull the gear into reverse. It moves around the bend and into the small inlet. It feels as if the the trees close in around me on all sides. The boat is entangled by branches on all ends. I trip. The sound of Stalin's Organ howls in the distance, promising a world of pain, delivered by inescapable fire from the sky.

NO! NOT NOW!

I find my hand clutching my side. It slipped off the wheel before I regained my focus on the here and now. It grips firmly, now, as I toss the wheel, turning the bow so that it faces open waters. Once-tranquil waves, unhappy with such a disturbance, slosh all around the boat, foam washing over our comrades in the rear. The bow rises upwards as the engine kicks into the highest gear, propelling us forward.

I look over my shoulder, making sure that we are not pursued as we leave the misty coast behind. The only eyes I see belong to my fellow Kindred. Blue, not yellow. Five minutes of straight sailing pass. The nightmare of entangling roots recedes from my conciousness as we make distance from the coastline. Then I cut the engines. Mist and flat, tranquil black surrounds us on all sides. The only sound is that of the waves.

We are adrift.

"That was a wolf. The eyes. The howl - just a wolf", my little brother says. I look at him for the first time since our escape from a monster's claws. Though He is scowling. Unimpressed. His face is still impassive, but I can tell it from the way that he has folded his arms in front of his body. Defensive. He thinks I was dreaming.

Perhaps I was.

"Das war kein Wolf," I insist, sounding entirely too defensive. My little brother draws near, not wanting to show his volunteers that we are having a dispute. We exchanged urgent whispers. He wants to know how I 'know'. Comes dangerously close to implying that I am delusional. My expression hardens, and he backs down. He remembers the old ways. He knows better than to be so defiant.

I rise and wordlessly descend down the stairs, into the sleeping cabin. The ghoul is there. Asleep, as ordered. I shake him about a bit to wake him up, then drag the sleepless thing above-deck by his arm so that Alarik can also hear what he has to say as I ask the ghoul, straight in the face.

"You studied this area. Are there wolves in this park?"
color=#4D5D53
Offline Profile Goto Top
 
Jhael
Prince Blucher's Dinner (still not quite house trained)
* * * * * *
Sir Arnold's disappearance to the cabin preceded a ragged scream of terror, which was followed by silence before the white faced young man was dragged out and over the deck in the grip of a gnarled hand.

Wide eyed from the shock of rude awakenings, Jhael's brain sluggishly tried to glue itself together with that "face" in his face.

"I saw dog tracks. Wolf is protected animal in Germany. Might be wolf, sir!"
The flustered young ghoul spoke in a simple, awkwardly accented German that an American student would be capable of. Jhael's tired brain was confused why he was being asked about wolves in such an intense manner. He could use a Red Bull.
Offline Profile Goto Top
 
Margo Moreau
Member Avatar
Rebel Toreador
* * * * * *
"My Prince" Margo says quietly, still hunched behind the hull. "I am not sure. I have looked at the aura of animals before, domestic cats, dogs. Rats. None were as bright as what I saw in the woods." Margo suppressed a shudder. "There was also something about the eyes... an intelligence, something more then just the cunning of an animal."

Margo had to admit, it could be nerves. But... she was unsettled enough that she couldn't simply go along with the don't worry its cool idea.

She remained crouched, gun in hand, pointed now towards the deck. She looked between the prince and Ronnie, wondering on what they might have to say.
Posted Image

English French Theme Songs: New Rose by The Damned, Mommy's Little Monster by Social Distortion
Offline Profile Goto Top
 
Ronnie
Member Avatar
Ancilla
* * * *
Ronnie understood of course what Sir Arnold said and that the two Ventrue disagreed...if that creature there was a Werewolf or just a wolf.
Poor Jhael, he looked really miserable.

"To think it´s just a wolf and run straight into the arms of a werewolf is worse than if it´s really just a wolf and we drive away. It´s not worth taking that risk."
When it was a question of life and death, then any mistake could be fatal.
Ronnie was very much of a daredevil, but that didn´t mean he was careless in a situation like this.
One had to draw a line when it was worth taking a risk and when it wasn´t. And it this case it wasn´t worth it.
"And I somehow can´t imagine that a normal wolf might have eyes like that."
Bad boy Ronnie, Pictures of Ronnie
Posted Image

English German
Offline Profile Goto Top
 
1 user reading this topic (1 Guest and 0 Anonymous)
ZetaBoards - Free Forum Hosting
Free Forums with no limits on posts or members.
Learn More · Register Now
Go to Next Page
« Previous Topic · Archived / Finalized Quests · Next Topic »
Locked Topic
  • Pages:
  • 1
  • 6

Affiliate links:


RPG-D