Deathknell Chronicles- Andrew's Prelude

[daelrog]

Andrew Vassar was having a good day. He had three grand in the bank already. It was unusual to get paid before a shoot, but it happened from time to time. He was standing in front of Le Beast, a place he heard abotu now and then. It was supposedly a pretty cutthroat place, that and pretty extreme. Not too many had seen Sean Loveless, but rumors of his tattoos of beastiality weren't lost on him. No, he would be working with one of his assistant this evening, Purity Westbrook. By the photo on her resume, she was quite the striking figure.

The outside of the building was plain and grey. The front door however, was painted glass. It was of a ying yang, but as he walked closer he could see that there were subtle lines drawn, making it a black woman in a sea of white men, and a white woman in a sea of black men.

He pushed the front door open... to see a large white room, empty. No doors, no people, nothing.

[JonRG]

Andrew ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "Let's see... Grammatically inaccurate psuedo-French name, zero-effort exterior design, kitschy art on the doors. Definitely a wannabe nightclub in the works." He pushed the door open, dragging his supplies with him. "Oh wow. They're too cool for furniture too. Yanno, I expected something a bit edgier from Jabba. Then again, I don't think you could fit a motorized scooter in here anyhow."

"Hello? Anybody home?" Andrew called out. Great. Probably a scam. He could expect a call from the bank in a few days telling him that the check bounced. But it wasn't much of a scam unless he performed a service first... Tapping the camera bag at his side, Andrew considered the wisdom of leaving.

[daelrog]

Andrew took another step in, and suddently the entire room changed. There was black everywhere, and there were stairs, and walkways above up to four stories high. The room was an optical illusion, appearing empty at first walk in.

A door open, one that seemed to be just a part of the wall. A young woman, plain, and young stepped out. "The mistress will see you Mr. Andrew, sir. Please follow me."

[JonRG]

"Okay. That's more like it." Andrew started as the wall opened up, and an assistant walked out. "The 'mistress,' huh? Guess Westbrook is one of your more eccentric types." He'd worked with far worse in the past. At the very least, the assistant seemed well-adjusted. That was often the first sign of a pain in the ass client, when even the people paid to be near them looked miserable. "All right then. Lead the way," Andrew finally said. Camera in tow, he strode forward.

This was going to be a good gig.

[daelrog]

They entered a hallway full of what looked to be medieval art. It looked authentic, but he doubted it given that each and everyone was vandalized. Slurs, faces written over, and lots of red ink imitating wounds and blood.

They entered a side door, and in the room he saw a number of fat mannequins set up in dancing poses. Their eyes were taped over. There was a stained, white curtain behind them.

Purity was standing there, watching it, her hand tapping her pearl lips. Her hair appeared slightly wet, and was short, and stylish. She was leaning her weight onto her right foot, and her beige dress swayed around her lithe figure, and complimented her tan skin.

She did not look at him before addressing him. "Something seems missing, what do you think?"

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Roll perception + crafts if you want

[JonRG]

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Crafts+Perception: (6d10)[3][1][8][2][4][6](24)

[daelrog]

Andrew notices that there's something off as well, but nothing is coming to mind. All it is right now are a number of fat mannequins dancing, there's nothing to tie it all together, to make sense of it.

Purity turned around. She was even more beautiful than her picture. She had the kind of bright eyes that said she could make his life paradise or hell, and nothing in between. "Leave us."

The assistant bowed her head and left. Quickly.

[JonRG]

"Four years of art education, and I'm tilting my head at... this. Good to finally be surprised, for once." Andrew was even more surprised when Miss Westbrook turned around. "Damn. A man could get lost in those eyes... Maybe the night will be worthwhile, even if I don't get paid." He cleared his throat. "You're definitely right, but I can't really say what. Perhaps you can tell me a bit more about the piece?"

[daelrog]

She pursed her lips slightly. She wanted a clearer answer, but at least he had no said the wrong answer. "It is our control of the body." Andrew heard the door close behind them, leaving only the two of them, and the mannequins. "These mannequins are dancing quite elegantly, something we find beautiful. To be able to take one foot and raise it above their heard shows strength, flexibility, sexuality. However, obesity is seen as coarse, disgusting by modern society, yet it was not always so. Obesity was once beauty for it showed control over what we put into our bodies. In the end that is what true beauty is, control over one's destiny. The weak look for those that they can exude control over, the strong search for those who whose beauty stands strong on its own. An island in the tempest, if you will."

She stepped up and looked at the mannequins. "Ah yes. There is no comparison. All this is before us are fat people dancing. There must be a yin to the yang, a comparison so that the world we are looking at has duality to it."

As she stepped away, her dress dances about her. Andrew had never seen a fabric move in such a way.

[JonRG]

"Well said. I know a professor or two at the Institute that could learn from her. Not to mention gorgeous to boot." Andrew cleared his throat. "Right, well. Much as I enjoy our conversation, perhaps we should table it for when I'm not on the clock." He gestured to the supplies at his side. "Your employer was stingy with the details. I'm curious what sort of work you require from me." Andrew knew what he wanted to do, but that would have to wait for later tonight.

[daelrog]

"To the point Andrew." The way she said his name sounded good. "I think I have changed my mind. You are better suited to be in the spotlight than behind it. I want you to step onto the stage with them. I want you to show suffering to the camera. Though you are a beautiful man in the traditional sense, onlookers will see more beauty in the dancers."

She turned around, and made something close to a purring sound. "Please."

Andrew felt a wave of emotion wash over him. He felt a pull to do as she said, not as strong as love, but strong for a person he just met.

[JonRG]

That was new. A model wanting to take pictures of him? Most couldn't bear even a moment out of the spotlight. Purity, she was definitely something special. Thousands of worries rushed through his mind. If she broke something, insurance would deny his claim flat out, and his equipment was worth a few grand. Besides, did he really want to be in front of the camera? His classmates all said he'd be a great model, but the idea never really sat well with him. "Just one shoot" had a nasty way of snowballing, and before you know it, you're snorting blow off two hookers in a hotel suite. Andrew had just opened his mouth-

"Please."

The hell was he smoking? It was a couple of photos for a client who had paid far above market value for his services. Plus, there was Purity. "Name like that, girl's gotta be a freak in bed," Andrew thought, stepping up on the stage. He turned around, squinting a bit in the lights. Owing a lot of models an apology. "Soooooooooo, what do you want me to do?" Andrew had never been a shy person, but Purity was making him lose his head a bit.

[daelrog]

Purity laughed at his question as if it were an inside joke. She looked at him appraisingly. "Become something ugly, Andrew. Become something with no control over its own fate. Surrounded by these people who enjoy their three meals a day, who can do what they will with their body, you are a wretch with nothing. Show me this. Those watching will stare at the bodies around you, but they will be forming their conclusions based off of you."

She picked up his camera delicatley, but deliberately. "When you are ready."

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Performance+Manipulation roll.

[JonRG]

"Uh... all right." Come on, Andy. You've told a dozen different models what to do. You have to have picked up a few tricks. He struck a pose. "How's this?"

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Manipulation: (3d10)[9][9][1](19)

[daelrog]

It wasn't a bad attempt, but the surprise of the request and far more experience on the other side of the camera left a little to be desired. He looked the part, but he didn't feel it.

"Oh dear, I suppose that was bit much to ask wasn't it. I suppose we'll have to try this the other way way."

She looked at Andrew in the eyes. In one moment she was beautiful and alluring. In the next, it was as if all the nightmares in the world had centered on her. Eyes of balefire, gnashing teeth, an aura of fear about her. It was surreal, for he could see still the beautiful woman, but it was as if he were looking at her through two different lenses at the same time.

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Going to modify the rolling a bit for story purposes. Roll for courage. Botch is passed out. 0 successes is runs away is uncontrolled fear. 1-2 sucesses is cowers on the stop. 3 or more means he retains his wits about him. Difficulty 6.

[JonRG]

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Gonna roll and then follow up with a post

(4d10)[4][1][8][8](21)

[JonRG]

"What... what the hell is going on here?" The nightmare reminded him of a really bad acid or salvia trip, but Andrew hadn't done drugs in years. Could Purity have slipped him something? She had clearly expected this to happen, but... they'd barely touched. How would such a thing even be possible?

Andrew's last thought before he blacked out was tinged with amusement at the fact that he really did get lost in her eyes.

[daelrog]

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So I saw that you posted. Then forgot.

Andrew woke up. He felt that he hadn't been out terrible long, no more than an hour, and probably less than half an hour. He was laying on the stage where he had fallen. Andrew could see scores of pictures around him, all turned over so he couldn't see.

He also could hear a soft murmur from somewhere close by, a muffling sound. Of Purity, there was nothing. She was gone.

[JonRG]

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Not to worry. These things happen. I was mega-busy anyhow.

"Ugh..." Andrew groaned, rubbing his temple. He propped himself up on one shaky arm and felt around his lower back with the other. Papa called him up in a panic six months ago, having read an article from Reuters about some 'gang' drugging immigrants to steal their kidneys. Becca declared the story nonsense, that the guy had sold his kidney, but to no avail. Regardless, Andrew still had all his organs. Far as he could tell anyways.

He scanned the room, which seemed dimmer than before. No sign of Purity. Just a strange humming noise and... a ridiculous number of pictures. With trembling fingers, Andrew reached for one and turned it over.

[daelrog]

The picture was both beautiful and frightening at the same time. It was everything Purity had wanted it to be. Andrew's unconcious body was dangling on puppet strings, handsome, yet pathetic. Somehow the fat, dancing mannequins seemed more alive in this picture. They truly were beautiful, and he was a wretch. They were living life, while his unconcious form was restrained, trapped.

The muffled noise came again, with a quick rattle. It was close.

[JonRG]

"Holy hell. How did she develop this so fast? Were they all like this?" Meanwhile, his inner artist marveled at her aesthetics. Say what one will about her ethics, the woman had a good eye. "So not important right now," Andrew thought, rubbing his forehead.

Then it came again. The noise. "Hello? Miss Westbrook?" he called out, rising shakily to his feet. This was getting weird...er. Now might be a good time to depart.

[daelrog]

The muffled sound came again, and this time there was no mistake. It was coming from inside one of the fat mannequins, with its eyes duct taped shut.

[JonRG]

Andrew's prevailing instinct told him to run, but an inexorable curiosity drew him closer to the mannequin. As he examined it for the noise's source, his fingers reached and pulled the tape off of its eyes.

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Perception: (6d10)[3][2][7][10][1][3](26)

[daelrog]

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Oh, no roll is necessary for this.

Andrew beheld in terror as two human eyes stared back at him. They were blue, wide, and full of fear, probably much like Andrew's own. As he looked around, he could only assume that all the fat mannequins held a person within, stuck in their pose.

"Beautiful isn't it? Under the surface of these fat, bloated puppets is the true art. Slaves." Purity stepped out of the shadows. She smiled like a predator, and Andrew could swear her canines seemed unnaturally sharp. "What do you think? I call this piece the 'true heart of man'."

She delicately placed her hand on the shoulder of one of the mannequins, one of the people.

[JonRG]

"What. the. Christ?" His profession was no stranger to ethical shades of grey, but there was war-time photography, and then there was... this. Andrew jumped at the sound of Purity's voice. She was a freak all right, just not in the way he'd hoped. "Nice teeth. I'm sure your Mummy and your dentist are very proud of you."

"I... I'm not sure what to say." That was the truth. He knew, however, what he wanted to do. Run out the door, get Julie, get the police, get SOMEBODY. "Damn it. These people paid me, so I'm an accomplice now." Andrew's heart pounded. What was Purity going to do with her art?

What was she going to do with him?

[daelrog]

"Oh?" She purred, and this time it sounded more feral. "Why don't you simply say what's on your mind? Are you afraid you'll say the wrong thing?" She laughed, pleasantly, and started to approach him. "Tell me I'm a monster, a freak. Tell you you desire me, still. Tell me how you want to still live." Her smile broadened. "Now there's an idea."

"Oh please, Purity, surely you're not suggesting..." It was a man's voice from the other side of the stage. He was handsome, with narrow eyes. His voice was arrogant and drawl.

"Look at him, he's gorgeous, he'll make a wonderful addition!"

"Purity, this is exactly what holds our Clan back. If we had even half the restraint the Ventrue or Tremere had, we'd be ruling the Camarilla."

"But it's our exess that makes it all worth while."

"Then by all means." The man waved his hand as if giving up.

[JonRG]

Purity's emphasis on "wrong" hit Andrew like a knife in the chest. There was nothing he could say, at this point, to save himself. Numbness washed over him. Eventually, he found voice to speak. "Yes... Everything you say is true." Andrew swallowed away the lump in his throat. "You're, you're very attractive, and smart, and wild, and I don't want to die." He steeled his resolve and looked her in the eye. "Please, there has to be something we can arrange."

[daelrog]

"How average." The man drawled on. "Can we at least get Sasha to vote?"

"Sasha is busy at the moment." A man... a thing came into view. He as fat, but it looked unnatural. His skin had a greyish tint. Tattoos of beastiality covered his shirtless body, and his teeth were gold, and sharp liked an angler fish. "You are right though, that man is gorgeous, though I've seen better."

Purity stepped towards Andrew. "Sean, I've heard rumors about this one. He's kept ahead on his own."

Sean made a sort sound, much like a tsk tsk. "Do we need a lone wolf? I'd be more interested in someone who can succeed within the system." He looked at Andrew. "Oh dear, you must be awfully confused child. You see, we are what you call vampires. If you'd like a demonstration, we can fish one of the immigrants out of Purity's mannequin, and drain them dry if you're a skeptic." He grinned, and it was hideous. He clapped his meaty hands together. "Let's have a hunt. Whichever of you catches him first, wins him. Andrew, if you can stay hidden for at least twenty minutes, we'll let you go... after wiping your memory of course. You have two minutes head start."

And then there was silence. Purity, and the man stood still, not making a movement, almost as if they had been turned into dolls. Sean began looking at his fingernails, filed down to sharp points.

[JonRG]

This new guy was definitely not on his side. He also threw around a lot of odd words. Ventrue. Tremere. Camarilla. Had Andrew stumbled on some sort of organized crime syndicate? Then Sean Loveless arrived. That much was obvious, given the tattoos. Could this night get any worse?

Purity was still voting to... add him. To the collection? No, her tone indicated something of another sort. Oh good. There was talk of a system. A system meant people. He could deal with people. Hell, he could deal with anything that wasn't being trapped in a mannequin while slowly going insane. Andrew rejoined the conversation at vampires. What? Purity wanted to... make him a vampire too? That meant the other guy wanted to straight up murder him. So, go Purity?

Then Sean proposed the hunt. For him. All Andrew had to do was last twenty minutes, and he would get to leave and live and... What was this about a memory wipe? More drugs for his trouble? That sounded fabulous. Probably meant it was a load of crap, but Purity and the other guy were just standing there. Waiting. He didn't give them a chance to change their minds, but bolted for the door that he'd come in through. Of course the front entrance had been sealed off.

Deep breath. Distance. He needed distance.

Andrew dashed up the nearest staircase, then the next. Any further would make him easy prey for whoever decided on a top down search. Thirty seconds down. He sprinted down the hallway, then checked some rooms in search of a good hiding place. Eventually, he found a nice closet. Oldie, but a goodie, filled with flashy costumes and leather. One Frenchman in all black shouldn't garner much notice. Hopefully, because his two minutes had just run out. Now, it was just a matter of staying quiet... and sane. If nothing else, Julie would investigate his disappearance. She and the cops would be clever enough to find his day planner with this address in it. Andrew would be gone, but he'd still have his revenge. Huh. He'd have to remember that bit of leverage for when - if - they caught him. Still freakin' out. Come on. Think of something relaxing. Maman and... that stupid little nursery rhyme she used to sing to Jason. How'd it go? Ainsi font, font, font, les petites marion... ettes. Merde! "Merci beaucoup, Pureté, pour ruiner mon enfance," Andrew thought ruefully, closing his eyes.

[daelrog]

The minutes seemed to tick by slowly. Nothing. No sound, no movement, only silence. He waited, and waited.

Over fifteen minutes passed by, letting Andrew soak in all that he had seen. More than anything else, those blue eyes etched themselves into Andrew's mind. The fear in them. How many hours had that poor soul been trapped in the shell of a mannequin, their arms and legs stretched out into a position a professional dancer usually only held for but a moment.

Then he heard footsteps. They were light, but he could hear them nevertheless. His heart sank as the voice was clearly the man's. "I can smell you, kine. Best come out now, and I'll make it quick."