Paolo grinned viciously and parked his car near the Nazi that went down. Next problems: Making sure the other Nazis kept running, didn't go for the woman, and checking for any witnesses. He scanned the night carefully. If this had to be a hit and run, so be it. Paolo didn't have any sentimental attachment to the car.
Now if he could get a meal out of it...
"A pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Vance. Indeed, I shall see you a bit later at the library. Until then."
After Mr. Vance leaves the club, Damien goes about the business of finishing set up of the private club and prepares for the Prince's meeting.
On his way out the door, Damien asks Lydia, "You're all set, right? I do not know how long I will be nor my availability by phone. I will let you know more when I know more."
Having said what needed to be said, Damien hops into his car and makes his way toward the library.
Arthur pauses and considers. He has been seen by this stranger so he will approach the man in the horse less carriage, "I presume you are not bird watching..."
Paolo grinned viciously and parked his car near the Nazi that went down. Next problems: Making sure the other Nazis kept running, didn't go for the woman, and checking for any witnesses. He scanned the night carefully. If this had to be a hit and run, so be it. Paolo didn't have any sentimental attachment to the car.
Now if he could get a meal out of it...
Paolo almost doesn't see her, but the woman he rescued is nearby on the top of a roof, and only her fighting a mixed reaction of laughter and horro "Holy...ha... crap" She tries to hide again.
Meanwhile, Paolo has another problem, the outcold nazi lives, but he also bleeds.
No one else is about
After Mr. Vance leaves the club, Damien goes about the business of finishing set up of the private club and prepares for the Prince's meeting.
On his way out the door, Damien asks Lydia, "You're all set, right? I do not know how long I will be nor my availability by phone. I will let you know more when I know more."
"Relax," She assures him with a touch to his shoulder, lowering her voice, "You know I've got more oomph than most girls thanks to you. I'll be fine. Sounds like most of the sharks will be swimmming with you tonight."
Having said what needed to be said, Damien hops into his car and makes his way toward the library.
Damien's car ride is fairly uneventful for the first two thirds, there was an annoying detour he had to take as one road had some sort of situation going on. But while the deal had taken some time, it had started early enough that it wouldn't delay him.
Driving by him is a woman in a rather nice audi in black with purple trim. JJ, the childe of the Toreador that almost got him. The other club owning vampire glances at him, and tips an imaginary hat, before gunning past him.
How did she get up on the roof so fast. Paolo realized she must be kindred...or something. Kindred was the better option. You could reason with a kindred, but a Lupine? I would already be dead. A lupine wouldn't have run from three Nazis. But why would a kindred? Did the Nazis have guns or something?
Paolo liked none of this but he was stuck in it now. His eyes fell on the Nazi. Unconscious. Good. The woman seemed in hand enough so he could pro-
There it was, just glinting in the headlights. So beautiful red warm and every vein in Paolo's body twitched shut at once. He felt like he hadn't fed in years and his whole body came to life at the sight of it. The Abyss yawned open within him and everything but his need began to fade.
How did she get up on the roof so fast. Paolo realized she must be kindred...or something. Kindred was the better option. You could reason with a kindred, but a Lupine? I would already be dead. A lupine wouldn't have run from three Nazis. But why would a kindred? Did the Nazis have guns or something?
Paolo liked none of this but he was stuck in it now. His eyes fell on the Nazi. Unconscious. Good. The woman seemed in hand enough so he could pro-
There it was, just glinting in the headlights. So beautiful red warm and every vein in Paolo's body twitched shut at once. He felt like he hadn't fed in years and his whole body came to life at the sight of it. The Abyss yawned open within him and everything but his need began to fade.
[dice=Self Control]4d10
Whether the woman is kindred, lupine, or just an amazingly skilled athlete or whatever... is hard to say.
But the blood beckons and if he can't rally himself to get in the car and drive off, or just walk away, he's going to feast here and now.
Paolo could feel himself sliding away. The Abyss beckoned with so much blood. More than anything, he wanted to let go. Feed. Live. The woman didn't matter. Witnesses didn't matter. Blood mattered. Blood...
Heart racing, skin afire, Paolo's hand found the door. He heaved on the handle and it didn't budge. What!? He jerked it again and snarled. He had to, had to-
"No!" he shouted to the empty car. He put it in gear and drove off.
Arthur takes a seat in the carriage, "Old Clan, I'VE always preferred your line to those warped fleshcrafters. I suspect you have been invited by the Princess here tonight as well?
Arthur seems unfazed by Marcus' criticism or his claim to Royalty, "Indeed, my manners. This is your Domain and I forget that such things are a sensitive matter to your Clan. You see, I study the dead and dead societies thus my view is the long one - no one truly ever owns anything - be it land or objects for eventually, we shall pass and so shall they.
I am Arthur Carter Clan ah... Brujah shall we say. An unfortunate circumstance that for the name has been sullied through the ages. We are both..." He trails off and goes silent.
"My apologies, I am going off on a tangent once more. This past decade and more I have spent so little time with the living or the living dead.
Are you recently moved to this fine city or have you been here for some time?"
Paolo could feel himself sliding away. The Abyss beckoned with so much blood. More than anything, he wanted to let go. Feed. Live. The woman didn't matter. Witnesses didn't matter. Blood mattered. Blood...
Heart racing, skin afire, Paolo's hand found the door. He heaved on the handle and it didn't budge. What!? He jerked it again and snarled. He had to, had to-
"No!" he shouted to the empty car. He put it in gear and drove off.
Paolo manages to keep from risking the masquerade through strength of will. Thankfully, before the frenzy can try to reclaim him... the bloodlust finds it has no target. He is too far away.
But damn, that was close.
Police sirens are blaring.
Paolo no more than calmed down before he heard the sirens. He checked his speed and weighed his options. He wouldn't have a taillight out. Maybe a headlight, but that was hard to tell in the city. He should have left the damned woman to the Nazis.
If there is damage and if I am stopped, I hit a deer. The Nazis ran from him, so they can't have seen his license plates. The woman might have, but he could do nothing about her for now. He could handle a single policeman. A partner would make things harder. Better to face none. At least I don't have a body in the trunk.
Driving carefully and strictly within the bounds of the law, Paolo turned down the first side street that would take him away from the scene and did his best to vanish into Perle Perdu rehearsing what he would say if he must.
Paolo no more than calmed down before he heard the sirens. He checked his speed and weighed his options. He wouldn't have a taillight out. Maybe a headlight, but that was hard to tell in the city. He should have left the damned woman to the Nazis.
If there is damage and if I am stopped, I hit a deer. The Nazis ran from him, so they can't have seen his license plates. The woman might have, but he could do nothing about her for now. He could handle a single policeman. A partner would make things harder. Better to face none. At least I don't have a body in the trunk.
Driving carefully and strictly within the bounds of the law, Paolo turned down the first side street that would take him away from the scene and did his best to vanish into Perle Perdu rehearsing what he would say if he must.
Fortunately for him, the police (And ambulance by the sound of the sirens) are easily avoided at this point, and he manages to head towards the Library where they will be meeting. It has rained some, and that may have washed off some of blood if there was any on the vehicle. Yes, the beast is quiet now, or at least growling less.
He is cutting it close time wise, but parking is not hard to find in this area at this time.
"Ah I see. These newfangled devices confound my sensibilities, the last Tzimisce I spoke with DID claim his car as Domain. Well wandering packs and all I suppose it is to be expected.
Now enough about me, let's get back to you, I repeat are you a resident here already or newly arrived?"
Heritage Library, 3 minutes before midnight
The girl stops, drawing a few deep, useless breaths, clearly confused by the spiky-haired man: "Hu, fire? What? Where?"
Two of her friends were smokers, and Alyson found herself avoiding sitting next to them if possible, because the flame from their lighters made her feel uncomfortable. It was ridiculous, really...a small controlled flame for a certain, short-lived purpose. But she didn't like it, all the same.
Which seemed utterly unfair, because not only was she now afraid of fire, but certain old fears had become amplified instead of fading away with her new life. She never liked them, but Spiders absolutely horrified her now. And sometimes she had weird dreams about giant spiders weaving whole skylines that made no sense.
"I...Am I the last one? I need to get in. Quickly...please?", she continued with a hint of panic in her voice.
Why is he talking with me instead of opening the door? Am I too late and he won't let me in any more? There's so many cars...it seems like a large gathering - 2 minutes...
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Marcus smiles and nods again tipping his top hat saying, persistance is its own reward Arthur. If we should like to get to know each other better perhaps we might meet at a neutral location and answer each others easier questions to begin with as a matter of compromise and a start to a mutually beneficial arrangement at the least. Let us watch the entry together until it is time to enter and we might as a start each ask one diplomatic question of one another to start. Would you like to stay with your question?
"Agreed. Yes, this is the very first question that interests me as knowing the answer to it will influence the remainder of our conversation. Note that we have only 74 minutes and 16 seconds to discourse before we are expected to arrive..."
Good, no police. Paolo parked his car on the street and gave it a quick examination before he headed into the library, all the while wishing he had more time to take stock of the situation within.
Heritage Library, 3 minutes before midnight
The girl stops, drawing a few deep, useless breaths, clearly confused by the spiky-haired man: "Hu, fire? What? Where?"
Two of her friends were smokers, and Alyson found herself avoiding sitting next to them if possible, because the flame from their lighters made her feel uncomfortable. It was ridiculous, really...a small controlled flame for a certain, short-lived purpose. But she didn't like it, all the same.
Which seemed utterly unfair, because not only was she now afraid of fire, but certain old fears had become amplified instead of fading away with her new life. She never liked them, but Spiders absolutely horrified her now. And sometimes she had weird dreams about giant spiders weaving whole skylines that made no sense.
"I...Am I the last one? I need to get in. Quickly...please?", she continued with a hint of panic in her voice.
Why is he talking with me instead of opening the door? Am I too late and he won't let me in any more? There's so many cars...it seems like a large gathering - 2 minutes...
He moves aside, "You're almost the last. Go on, No one is stopping you, but what's the point of eternity if you're going to be chained? Name's Fang. Let me know if you want to hear more about the anarchs."
A pause, "And wipe your feet. She's a stickler for that..."
She's got a clear path.
Alyson steps towards the door and takes a look at Fangs hair and clothing: "Anarchs? Are you something like a Kindred Punk Band? Shouldn't you go in too rather than advertise your gig?", Alyson asks cluelessly as she wipes her feet...thoroughly - then, after hearing his answer, excuses herself and uses the clear path to rush towards the meeting hall.
Damien chuckles to himself as JJ drives past, thinking A real shame about that one...I suspect we could have been friends...or at least as close to that concept as our kind have...had Delacroix not gotten to me first.
Arriving at the library, Damien parks his blood red BMW M6 not terribly far from JJ's Audi, just far enough away to avoid any door dings.
Paying no particular attention to anyone lingering outside, hiding or not, Damien enters the Heritage Library and awaits the Prince's announcement.
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Marcus nods and says it is an accord then between us. We will answer each others questions and should there come a time when we do not or cannot, our accord is at an end. I am of this city and have met the princess before. Earlier you began a thought of what actual clan you are but did not finish it. Tell me your clan as I suspect it is not Brujah and what your clan is known for if you please?
"We are know as the True Brujah. A ridiculous name which I why I just generally call myself Brujah. However, as one such as yourself knows, the distinction between Tzimisce and the Old Clan is as stark as the shroud between the land of the living and the dead. And so it is for my Bloodline and that of the 'original' Usurper Troile. Thus, I did not wish to start you out with an impression of me that would force you to call into question the decision to let a creature who could fly off of the handle at any moment into an enclosed space with you.
Tell me your impressions of this Princess. I've tended to keep away from the Madmen for the entirety of my existence, I've enough deranged habits without picking up any more".
An hour before the meeting time, kindred really begin flowing in as Marcus and Arthur make note of.
At least, one can assume they're Kindred.
Pale men and women, some parking, others dropped off, begin to filter in. their garb varies...but despite the assurance that formal attire is not required many are wearing what one might refer to as their 'sunday best'.
A very old woman comes in wearing blue floral dress, and pearls, a cane seeming to support her, yet those who observe might see that she doesn't need it. A few have heard of Madeline "Maddie" Hartman, a ventrue, and , despite her age, a known harpy. She appears to be adressing her ghoul, "Oh now, no need to fuss over an old woman like me, dear. You just be a dear and have the car ready to pull round when I call."
The sheriff, the Jamaican descended Gangrel Alicia Hunter is dressed more casually, perhaps to enforce the law of the land. She is carrying a large burlap sack and goes on in.
No nosferatu are seen going in, but really, they're not very good at being nosferatu if you see them, are they?
45 minutes until the meeting...
A man in a very expensive suit with a touch of very old Spain to the style is let out of another vehicle only a moment after. Those who study who is who might know of Gaetano , a Lasombra Antribu whose arrival has caused quite a stir over the last decade. Rumor has it his childe is making waves in Real Estate.
Almost at the same time, a beautiful woman of Russian heritage arrive,s the golden haired Tolya of Clan Toreador. She is quite well known, and a harpy herself. Apparently she's not risking 'fashionably late'. The two exchange pleasantries and gentle barbs before going in. The blonde glances back in the direction of Marcus and Arthur only once, giving a delicate sniff as she does so.
A half hour before hand
A woman in a black audi with purple trim pulls up, parks, and shakes her hair out. The other well known Toreador in the city, JJ, runner of the Elysium and dance Club Tattered Veil. She's dressed in a much more modern and club going style as suits her 'youth'.
Walking up, who knows where he was dropped from, is the ventrue primogen Caspar Vance, rather unassuming fellow for his clan, at least to look at him. He seems to be in a relatively good mood.
Parking near the Audi only a minute after or so is Damien
Ten minutes to go
Two men and one women arrive on motorcycles. The one in charge appears to be a fellow in a sleeveless denim jacket and spiky hair. He is not quiet, "Misty, Tommy B, pick us a corner.. but wipe your shoes. Crazy b@@%$ has an obession with clean shoes."
And he takes a spot by the door watching folks go in.
A car with a slight dent at the front (Paolo's) pulls up.
Less than five minutes to go.
Alyson comes running up!
Alyson steps towards the door and takes a look at Fangs hair and clothing: "Anarchs? Are you something like a Kindred Punk Band? Shouldn't you go in too rather than advertise your gig?", Alyson asks cluelessly as she wipes her feet...thoroughly - then, after hearing his answer, excuses herself and uses the clear path to rush towards the meeting hall.
He breaks out into a laugh, "Anarchs isn't a band, babe, it's an unlifestyle. And I'm not talking grateful dead ... though " He considers, "if the pun fits."
And Alyson goes in
Anyone NOT in by this point may see two female librarians starting to move to the doors as if to lock them!
As the Kindred conversation dies down and they observe the comings of many of their ilk, Arthur turns to Marcus, "Now is the time..."
He begins to walk at a leisurely pace towards the doors, spraying the cologne provided to him, assuming that Macus is alongside him.
He removes his shoes entirely and places them in the sack where he holds his meager belongings.
As the Librarians approach the doors, Arthur opens and steps in between them, "Certainly you realize there are still 15 second until midnight thus your closure of these doors is rather premature.
Marcus, as you have been here before, please lead the way..."
Paolo's eyes fell upon Father almost as soon as he entered. He smiled and would have went right over, in more intimate surroundings. Here, people watched. He wasn't still under Father's thumb and Father wouldn't thank him for looking it.
They could of the woman later, or some other night. Father would have much to say about mortal sensibilities then, but Paolo could endure it. If she was kindred, which Paolo thought likelier than not, she may be new and that information was useful. It could be worth consideration, perhaps several times over. If she was in Perle Perdu legitimately, then she might owe Paolo consideration for rendering her aid. If she wasn't, then the sheriff might. If she wasn't kindred at all, then Paolo could hope for much more consideration. Playing the hero had its perks, and it only cost him a dent and few minutes of worry.
Instead of approaching Father, Paolo made his way about the crowd trying to fix names to faces and get a better sense of the room.
Arthur holds up the bag and wiggles his bare toes, "Yes the eastern custom is to remove one's shoes entirely so I am quite used to it having spent a great deal of time with easterners. My new friend, please lead the way".
The library has been cleared of all mortals who are not ghouled, dominated, or otherwise handled and there are few of them, mostly upstairs. Once the time is passed, the doors to the outside are closed by two of the librarians who work here, almost in sync.
Perle Perdue Heritage Library's interior is a work of art. Book cases made of strong centuries old oak, expertly woven cobblestone paths of light gray amid a wider dark black marble. Those familiar with free masonry might notice a pattern of sorts here. Stained glass windows of blue and crimson depict tarot style famous scholars and thinkers of the past. It is not the largest library in the city, but it is the oldest and its collection is deep and rich. Few paperbacks to be found here, call it snobbery, but hard cover abounds. Some of them in leather.
Dane Harlow greets those incoming, "Dane Harlow, Welcome to Elysium. I am it's keeper, please kindly mind the rules or I will enact my duty with most intense vigor." While the Brujah dresses like a college professor, his reputation is one of a guardian not to be crossed. He frowns slightly, but is perfectly polite to all, "Please head on down."
Kindred are guided further down, below this top level to the heart of the Elysium. A door of cherry wood has a sign near it saying, "Employees only" but tonight the door is open, and down into the archives the kindred of the city find themselves.
It's bigger than most would think, the most valued books are here, and there is a grand table that could seat thirteen easily and has chairs, but other furniture is tastefully scattered about amid more book cases and statuary. There are no windows down here.
All that were seen coming down here in the last hour are here. The two harpies , Tolya (Beautiful Russian of Clan Toreador) and Maddie (Folksy Senior Citizen Ventrue) make soft comments as others come in and exchange looks.
"Mmmph, the freak is a violation of the masquerade…" Tolya says in too loud a whisper, "How do people not notice his elongated features?"
"Shoot hon, you should see what women these days pierce themselves with," the old woman laughs, "Not sure he stands out as much as he would even a half century ago. Now, if we're talking fashion disasters…" Her voice trails off into a quieter whisper.
JJ , who runs the other Elysium, remains standing, not far from her sire. She nods to Alyson with a slight smile.
Two primogen converse, one is the soft spoken ventrue Casper Vance, the other is Northcliff, primogen of the Nosferatu. Northcliff is, like all his clan, hideous to behold. Despite the tux he wears, there is nothing that can improve his looks that are akin to those of a shaved pale bat. Down here he does he hide himself, nor does he hide his opinions.
"This diversity program is a farce," Northcliff says boldly, "The Prince has become a victim to some mortal fad. We are not mortal cattle where the spots and colors mean nothing and all moo more or less the same, we are kindred, and the blood of caine falls in streams none quite like the other. This whole experiment goes against the natural order. Why can you not see this, Casper?"
"Northcliff, I respect all you've done for the city, but surely you see the benefits that have already occurred? New hunting grounds, creative endeavors that can be used to influence? Would I like more room for more of my Clan? Of course, but think of the greater picture. The Camarilla has always claimed to represent all Kindred kind. Perle Perdu's experiment lends that claim legitimacy. This strengthens our sect." The man says in a mild reasonable tone.
"Bah" the Nosferatu snorts, "I'm aware you're already bargaining with some of them."
"This is where I say I'm aware you're aware," Mr. Vance says mildly, "and so on ab absurdum. But fighting serves neither of us if both of our minds are set."
Fang rejoins the two other anarchs, they've kicked their feet up on chairs in the corners and are talking about a possible rave next week rather boldly.
Gaetano, the older Lasombra Antitribu has taken a seat as well, but he sits there with a more elegant ease. He notices his childe and gives the slightest of nods but other than that seems to pay him little mind. His shadow does not match the weak lights in the place, but then, he is Lasombra. He turns his attention to a woman at his side. Dressed in widow's garb, it is hard to make out her features behind her veiled hat.
She seems to be having a conversation with him without speaking.
And still there are more Kindred, the Prince's letters went to near all it seems. In one corner, seated by a ghoul, three kindred they do not recognize await, slightly partitioned off from the main group. One fellow has light brown hair long and spilling out from a homburg hat with small rhinestones about it. He is dressed in a tasseled jacket, and his eyes affix upon a target.
The other two new faces near him are quite different. One is clearly a gargoyle, female you would guess by shape of form, with an almost serpentine cast to her deformed and stony face, and shale hued wings. Her tail lashes about nervously. She is dressed in only a tattered midriff shirt and ripped sweat pants. The last is far more human looking, a woman who appears to be of South east Asian heritage with low bangs to her eyebrows. Her outfit is tie dyed shirt of yellows and reds with sensible bluejeans.
A voice calls out, "Thank you all ever so much for attending," And the Prince seems to appear before notice, wearing an elegant outfit that screams scarlet O hara. "settle in, settle in and find a seat before we begin the formal festivities."
Behind her, the Sheriff waits, that large sack near her feet.
Alyson rushes into the meeting chamber...paying little attention to what else was going on around her, just glad that she had made it in time.
Mr. Harlow seemed to be on guard...because of what would be announced today? Did the prince give in to the Camarilla? No...wait...following his gaze, she understood his alertness, then focused her attention elsewhere...it was impolite to stare. But he could at least have worn shoes.
Her eyes dart around the room, looking for Vivienne...she had important business in Europe and was halfway across the globe, but Alyson had hoped all the same that her Sire would, by some miracle, be attending the meeting.
It has been 2 weeks since Alyson last saw her...far too long...they had never been separated more than a week since her embrace...her mind wandering, and the background-music of her life, in anticipation of what would happen, turning into a very chaotic melody that would best be described as "experimental", she is not particulary perceptive about her surroundings...even less so than usually.
Most of the people here, she did not know, and those she did, mostly by function. She felt utterly lost without Vivienne. But at least JJ was here...Alyson and her friends were regulars in the 'Tattered Veil', even before learning it was run by a Kindred.
Making her way over, Alyson finds a seat next to Justina, and tries not to draw any attention to herself when she leans over:"Festivities? Is today some special cainite holiday?"...or an impromptu Malkavian one?, her thoughts continued, but she did not express them...Vivienne had made sure to thoroughly brief her on the Clans peculiarities before she had presented Alyson to the Prince.
- 1 success
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As Damien enters the library and nods a silent greeting to Dane Harlow, taking particular notice of the subtle change in the Keeper's countenance as he regards Arthur. Daggers for that one...subtle daggers, but daggers none-the-less. Damien thinks to himself.
Hearing Tolya's comment about him, Damien holds his tongue. Not out of any respect for the Toreador elder, but for sake of the Elysium.
Taking note of the newcomers, Damien has a seat and awaits the Prince's news.
Making her way over, Alyson finds a seat next to Justina, and tries not to draw any attention to herself when she leans over:"Festivities? Is today some special cainite holiday?"...or an impromptu Malkavian one?, her thoughts continued, but she did not express them...Vivienne had made sure to thoroughly brief her on the Clans peculiarities before she had presented Alyson to the Prince.
"Ain't no party like a Malkavian party because a Malkavian party can be anything," Justina "JJ" Jenkins replies. Given that Alyson has a JJ in her life already, she rolls with Alyson being one of those who uses her name, "Frankly, I think whatever it is is serious and not going to be fun for someone. The question is who?"
Alysons gaze falls on the sack at the feet of the sheriff:"Just tell me thats not a talking Piñata and I'm already content...could you maybe give me a ride to the club after this is over or do you have places to be?"
Arthur narrows his eyes at Harlow but does not respond, not liking something in the fellow Kindred's face. Were it not Elysium he might even question the man about it but it is and he does not.
He moves by the Harpies with a slight nod knowing that based on his appearance as currently constituted it will avail him nothing to exchange pleasantries with them.
The word Lasombra does perk his ears up a bit but it is to be expected, the Antitribu would seek such a sanctuary city if the Old Clan would. The Sabbat was terribly ruthless at snuffing out Elders or even Anacillae of the Leadership Clans of their Sect. He himself had ordered the destruction of a few in his time with them, after all, with endless shovelheads what is the loss of a few versus the destruction of a greater prize?
As with the Harpies, Arthur ignores the Primogen and their banter, clearly intended to get a rise out of any attending else why speak so openly?
The homberg hatted man has an interest but not in him which suits Arthur just fine though he makes a mental note of the obvious gesture in case it may be useful to him later.
Arthur grins inwardly at the so called Anarchs, how can one be an Anarch and attend a Prince's meeting? To claim to be such and act in such a manner besmirches the very title they label themselves, children...
He takes a seat nearby but not too close to the South east Asian woman, preferably a seat where Marcus can be close by.
He awaits what else the Madwoman has to say.
As Paolo entered his ears caught the harpies speaking of Lasombra Junior. Father had explained it all many times over: harpies tried to goad men into doing something that would lower themselves. Rising to their bait would only please such creatures and urge them to probe more closely next time. But this might be turned his way. Paolo fed his trifling irritation to the Abyss and the void that kept his reflection as he smiled broadly and made a shallow bow in their direction. I don't answer to you.
Noting the faces of the unfamiliar kindred, Paolo took a seat a respectable distance from Father and where he hoped he could keep a good watch on the elders and newcomers alike.
Taking note of the newcomers, Damien has a seat and awaits the Prince's news.
Damien notess that despite Northcliff 'outting' Mr. Vance, the Ventrue names no names, nor does he pay any more attention to Damien than he already has.
Alysons gaze falls on the sack at the feet of the sheriff:"Just tell me thats not a talking Piñata and I'm already content...could you maybe give me a ride to the club after this is over or do you have places to be?"
"No promises. Did you know she has earns of the ashes of those she's sentenced to destruction? Expensive works of art, those urns. Beautiful but rather morbid, even for us, to make the ashes of a masquerade breaker a display," At the request of a drive, "Samuel couldn't pick you up? What's a ghoul for?" Wryly, then "Sure, I'll give you a lift. Though by the time we get out of here it maybe close to dawn for all we know. Hope it will be quick."
He moves by the Harpies with a slight nod knowing that based on his appearance as currently constituted it will avail him nothing to exchange pleasantries with them.
Wise, Tolya sniffs the air then turns her head, as if smelling something foul, which she probably is, but does not pursue comment as she might if he spoke to her.
Arthur grins inwardly at the so called Anarchs, how can one be an Anarch and attend a Prince's meeting? To claim to be such and act in such a manner besmirches the very title they label themselves, children...
Fang is laughing, "Belltower, I ####ing love that place ,and the acoustics will be great. We'll get word out, hire Benny. See how many people end up broken."
He takes a seat nearby but not too close to the South east Asian woman, preferably a seat where Marcus can be close by.
The woman holds perfectly still, like a deer among wolves. Odd, as she is kindred, she should be a wolf herself.
Paolo fed his trifling irritation to the Abyss and the void that kept his reflection as he smiled broadly and made a shallow bow in their direction. I don't answer to you.
Noting the faces of the unfamiliar kindred, Paolo took a seat a respectable distance from Father and where he hoped he could keep a good watch on the elders and newcomers alike.
His silent defiance appears to be noted as Maddie snorts but smirks (Perhaps impressed despite her commentary, perhaps not), and Tolya narrows her eyes before each flashes a smile in return.
As for Prince Eudora LaCassette, she gives a little more time for everyone to settle in, talk a bit, for about ten minutes or so, then finally takes a glass and taps it gently with a spoon, "Well, it seems we must simply attend to business. I have new petitions for ingress to hear," She nods to the three near the back, "An open call to hear your concerns if we have time, but, do forgive me for cutting to the indelicate matter of a certain tradition. One of progeny, and that one has been breached."
The Prince gestures graciously to the Sheriff, "Alicia, if you would?"
And with that, the Gangrel spills the contents of the large bag out onto the floor of the library floor. The content, it turns out, is a white male, just short of six feet tall, looking roughly twenty six years of age with dark brown hair and blue eyes frozen open in shock. He is dressed in a sky blue button up shirt, and nice slacks. Of course, the stake in his chest has ruined the shirt.
The Prince's eyes turn gazing at each and every kindred in the room, "This…is a Caitiff. He is not from out of town, which means he was embraced here, in my city without my permission. It is beyond offensive to me, it is tacky. Whoever did this should be ashamed, leaving this around like some vermin spawning far too close to a manorhouse. I wish to know which of you did this? Which of you birthed and abandoned this childe?" Her eyes almost flash, "A childe I will now have to destroy! You know I am saving space for the rare and special! All of you know that. This poor creature is nothing original, nothing special. " A pace past the harpies and the Primogen, "Now some of you of the established clans have lamented my restrictions on embraces by the same old same old. Some openly, others more behind my back. I must consider the idea that one of you tried to defy me anyway." Then she moves towards the newer ones, the bloodlines, "Others of you, why, if you earned it, I would graciously consider allowing another rarity much like yourself within reason. Why we even have two Lasombra, isn't that marvelous?"
At this, Gaetano inclines his head at the mention, and makes sure to look grateful as he does so.
The Prince smiles at him, and goes on, her voice uplifting just a bit, but it does not approach the realms of hysteria, "But I must also consider that one of our 'bloodlines' might have gotten over eager. Perhaps you want to build your own forces up, perhaps you are lonely, bless your hearts if so."
A frown at Fang and his friends, "And before you say anything, Fang. I know he is not yours."
"I could adopt," Fang says rather fearlessly, but the two other Anarchs don't mouth off.
The Prince ignores that and goes on, taking in all of them, "Now, there are many forms of punishment for this sort of crime. Destruction of the childe, poor lamb, is almost a given. But for the one who slipped? Why, if he or she confessed, I might be quite lenient indeed. I might require a single drink from my own blood, and being of one of the oldest families of the delta, I do consider myself fine vintage. I might instead simply exile, and you could find new havens and new homes out of my beloved Perle Perdu. We would miss you, of course, but you would continue. But if none admit to this crime and I find out later who did? Oh," She tisks and paces, "I shall the sheriff carry your staked and traitorous form up up up onto a roof that gets plenty of sunlight, and I shall make sure the resulting ashes are preserved for eternity in my collection. A grander form of immortality than a rule breaker deserves, mmm?" A hungry wide smile as she lets her fangs show, "So. Who. Made. This?" A pointed finger back to the staked Caitiff.
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Marcus doesnt care to not the goings on and thoughts or emotions of the crowd or the drama between spectators. He has things to do. He does take a look at the catiff to see if he recognizes him in any way but otherwise could care less about the whole thing and would rather not be here at all, except he will show respect when spoke to or gestured towards as absolutely everyone is an elder.
Could we ask the Caitiff? Maybe he knows? Let him take his Sire's place if he reveals the one responsible?
Thoughts race through Alysons mind.
She could never muster the courage to speak up. And she was scared of drawing attention...the way one feels exiting the supermarket with the detective looking at one, or when a police car follows behind...knowing one did nothing wrong but not desiring to be questioned regardless.
And her nervousness shows...reflexively, Alyson blushes even as she attempts to meld into her chair.
Paolo made his own grateful expression when the Prince mentioned the Lasombra. He could live anywhere and relocating might not be that hard, but he had money invested in Perle Perdu and wouldn't throw it aside to take the fall for someone else's crime, let alone for a caitiff. How did that even happen?
Regarding the creature with undisguised disgust, Paolo considered his best options. If he spoke first he might look too eager to avoid blame. Remaining silent could be an admission. Then...a course forward that pointed toward the sire? Something Paolo would never do if he were to blame. Something that might make him useful as well as innocent? And make an enemy of whoever really did it, without being sure that the actual guilty kindred would be caught...and possible ally of the Prince. Paolo knew he didn't want her as an enemy; the Prince had the power to sustain Cainite diversity, after all.
Paolo composed his thoughts carefully and kept firm hold of his voice. "Every one of us must uphold the Traditions," Paolo said. "If I can be of any help finding and bringing the guilty kindred to their fate, I'm at your service."
From his seat, Arthur makes a suggestion, "Perhaps Prince Eudora, the stake can be removed from this poor unfortunate soul allowing them to identify their own murderer? Of course, such an eyewitness identification can also be suspect for what if the clever fiend affected the memories to finger an opponent for this crime?"
"My Prince, are there any members of Clan Tremere left in the city? Or at least anyone who happens to be a practitioner of their particular arts? Delacroix once told me that the Tremere could learn much from a single taste of vitae." Damien remarks, his voice trailing off as if some other thought has caught his attention.
Now that I remind myself of that, that would be a particularly helpful talent in my line of work...
Paolo composed his thoughts carefully and kept firm hold of his voice. "Every one of us must uphold the Traditions," Paolo said. "If I can be of any help finding and bringing the guilty kindred to their fate, I'm at your service."
The Prince smiles and moves to Paolo, and puts a hand on his sleeve, "What a gentleman you are. I shall remember that, Sir." She turns to Paolo's sire, Gaetano "You've taught him well."
"The Prince is kind," Gaetano says.
From his seat, Arthur makes a suggestion, "Perhaps Prince Eudora, the stake can be removed from this poor unfortunate soul allowing them to identify their own murderer? Of course, such an eyewitness identification can also be suspect for what if the clever fiend affected the memories to finger an opponent for this crime?"
It is the Sheriff, gangrel Alicia Hunter, who responds, "I am not a fool. I have already interrogated the Caitiff. He claimed to have been drained and then feed blood in the dark. He could not even see his sire. Whoever he or she is. The voice was a whisper."
"Now, dear Sheriff," The Prince says mollifying, "Mr. Carter is just being thorough. And he does bring up a good point of the chance of a mind being messed with. Perhaps we should unstake this fellow and see what else we can learn?" She looks about, "Anyone else before we do that?"
"My Prince, are there any members of Clan Tremere left in the city? Or at least anyone who happens to be a practitioner of their particular arts? Delacroix once told me that the Tremere could learn much from a single taste of vitae." Damien remarks, his voice trailing off as if some other thought has caught his attention.
"Some of you may not be aware," The Prince says, "The former Tremere Chantry in my city was badly damaged, destroyed really, years ago and never fully recovered. That clan has withdrawn it's former Regent some time ago, a new Regent will be coming in, but he or she will have to present his or her self for my approval or denial." As if blowing off the Tremere were not out of the realm of possibility ,"Frankly, the Tremere did not always seem to respect the authority of other clans on them, while making demands on their own so I have not overly missed them. But still, I can see how they might have been useful in this case."
"Quite useful," Primogen Northcliff says, "My clan is not close to the Tremere, but at least they can be productive, and bring the stability any Camarilla city might require." There is an unspoken 'unlike some bloodlines' but the ugly creature's expression as he casts a glance over several of them does not bother to hide that well.
The gargoyle waiting flutters her wings and scowls.
"Why, Northcliff," The Prince waves her fan, "Your honesty is so refreshing, but really, if you don't like the food here why do you keep coming about for supper?"
The harpies snicker.
"Sheriff Hunter, if you would?" The Prince gestures in what sounds like a request but really isn't.
The Gangrel nods and yanks out the stake.
And the Caitiff comes to life, "Christ! what on.." He looks about at the mix of the living dead before him, "Oh it's real. It's really real. Look, I told you, I don't know... their name. I don't know who did it."
"Well, bless your no longer beating heart," The Prince tisks, "Take a moment, relax. Others here will ask you questions and so on and maybe they can help you sort out things you didn't know. Think of it as..CSI: Kindred."
"Kindred? I don't even know... what the fu..." Before he can finish the word, the Prince picks him up with one hand by the throat.
"Language! Now, I know you are confused, and probably thirsty, but I will not abide ill manners here. Do you understand?" She says in a very cool voice that seems almost like a tense spring.
"I understand..." The Caitiff says.
The Prince smiles, then looks to the Sherriff, "Did you wipe his shoes before he came in here?"
"Of course," The Gangrel nods.
"Good" The Prince tosses the Caitiff before all of you. "Ask away, my dear gems of diversity. I want to see what you can do."
Arthur ignores the bantering among the Primogen and the Prince.
"My apologies Sheriff, I did not mean to insinuate that you were not being thorough, only that perhaps you staked first and asked questions later. I have known other ah... Kindred in a similar position as yours to do just that.
Perhaps first young man you will introduce yourself to us, names are so very important.
Now, the Sheriff has indicated that you could not see your attackers face but their body outline could you identify that or their gender?
Did they say anything to you and if so what did they say?
If so, could you recognize their whispery voice if you heard it again?
And perhaps most important, where did the attack take place?"
/
Alyson stares at someone, for a moment, then forces herself to look back at the Caitiff.
Why...why that reaction. Something to hide? Guilt? Maybe? Probably...
Using Carters lenghty interrogation of the Caitiff as a pretext to look in the general direction, she then adds, surprising herself by speaking up: "And do take a moment to take a good look at everybody here, see if someone seems familiar...you may not have seen your attacker clearly, but you may have met them before, in another place, when they picked you as a target."
Alyson will look very carefully if her previous mark seems to tense up again, especially if the Caitiff is taking a look in it's direction. If so...
3:"If I found out, they will..."
5:"Speak up now..."
I was afraid, too, and I had nothing to do with this...I don't even want to imagine how hard it must be on her...don't make it worse, girl...trust in God to show you the way and the Prince to be mercyful...
4:"You should admit to it."
6:"...and hope for Mercy."
- 1 success
- 0 successes
Paying close attention to the caitiff, Damien listens closely to the answers provided to the questions asked as he activates the power of Folderol from his bloodline's signiture discipline.
Paolo inclined his head in response to the Prince's complement. Yes, he did teach me well. He turned to the caitiff and considered the best questions to ask, but Arthur stepped in before Paolo could speak again.
Very well. Your move. He watched listened closely to the pale man's answers while carefully not quite looking at any of the kindred in the room. A gaze could become an accusation.
"Tell us when it happened too," Paolo said when Arthur was done. "And what you were doing." Paolo didn't know of any kindred who could be in two places at once, but many preferred a certain kind of prey or hunting grounds.
Arthur ignores the bantering among the Primogen and the Prince.
"My apologies Sheriff, I did not mean to insinuate that you were not being thorough, only that perhaps you staked first and asked questions later. I have known other ah... Kindred in a similar position as yours to do just that.
The Sheriff inclines her head, perhaps mollified for now.
Perhaps first young man you will introduce yourself to us, names are so very important.
Paying close attention to the caitiff, Damien listens closely to the answers provided to the questions asked as he activates the power of Folderol from his bloodline's signiture discipline.
"My name is Hank Rockwell," a deep breath he doesn't need, "Henry technically. And I just want to get out of here any time you'll let me."
"Hank? Rockwell?" Fang mutters to his allies, "What did his parents want him to grow up to be, a porn star?"
Now, the Sheriff has indicated that you could not see your attackers face but their body outline could you identify that or their gender?
"Slim, I think a woman, but I'm not sure," Hank says, "Sorry."
At this, eyes turn to almost every female kindred in the room from various sources."So far , not very certain of anything," Sheriff Hunter mutters.
"Don't look at me," Tolya sniffs, "I don't take off the rack."
Did they say anything to you and if so what did they say?
If so, could you recognize their whispery voice if you heard it again?
"I don't think I'd recognize the voice. Soft, could either be a high pitched man or a low pitched woman…" Clearly he's not familiar with the musical terms for such, "But I remember what she, if it was a she, said yes. It was 'You're going to sniff out shadows. Welcome to the longest night of your life'." A shrug, "I don't even know what that means, all I knew was that blood was flowing down my throat. "
Perception plus Alertness DC 6:Northcliff's gaze has turned to the two Lasombra in the room.And perhaps most important, where did the attack take place?"
"Behind a restaurant near the De Cyprès area. My girlfriend lives there," Hank says.
"Tell us when it happened too," Paolo said when Arthur was done. "And what you were doing."
"Two nights ago," he answers cautiously trying to think of the exact time "I don't remember exactly what time, after nine? I'd finished talking to the restaurant owner trying to set up a special event for my girlfriend, reserved a table for two next week with a few frills and dressings. I went out to the rear because my car was parked there. Can I go now? Please?"
A voice, not unlike the Prince's but not quite, whispers..
"It was you was it not?"
"If I found out, they will..."
"Speak up now..."
"Your fear gave you away."
"You should admit to it."
"...and hope for Mercy."
The Kindred of Asian descent looks freaked, and takes bursts out with, "I didn't do it, I didn't! It's the Tremere I'm scared of because I'm..." And a third eye splits open above the other two, the bangs not able to obscure it as they did when it was closed, "Please, I didn't do it, I swear I didn't!"
"It's a twice damned soulsucker!" Maddie gasps.
"They're called," Dane Harlowe says, "Salubri."
The Prince claps her hands in delight as if she's just found a true treasure in a pawnshop!