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    Default Deathknell Chronicles IC, Chapter 1: Eyes Open

    The estate was just outside the city proper. Each of the vehicles had to pass through two security checkpoints before being allowed to pass. The first one seemed routine, checking under the hood of the car and below it. A few men with flashlights glanced inside briefly. The second one was a bit different. A number of men wearing cheap suits, each with a shaved head came before each group, taking any weapons they had which were given freely. Danielle’s car had the most weapons, taking a full three minutes for all the weapons to be handed over, including Danielle’s knife at Al’s insistence.

    The estate itself was large, with three wings attached to the main building. It was at the east wing each of the newly embraced were dropped off, left alone. Not even their sires stepped out with them. They were met by another man with a shaved head, this time dressed in a monk’s robe, who blindfolded each. They were led inside to sit on a chair, leather, one which the characters could sink into and get comfortable.

    It was within fifteen minutes that they arrived, and with the loud crack of snapping fingers, their blindfolds were released. They found themselves sitting in the same room, all of their chairs pointed towards a hunched figure in the center. It was dressed in rags like a beggar, and had a distinct hunchback. Its face was covered by three layers of hoods, though a single, glowing orange eye stared back at them. Clockwise they were arranged Erica, Rick, Claire, Danielle, Amy, Faruq, and back to Erica.

    “I am Donovon.” The thing’s voice sound feminine, rich and deep. “I am to instruct you on the procedures to make sure you do not warrant reason for the Prince to kill you.” He eye rested on Danielle. “At least, no more reason than he has already. Each of you will be allowed one question before we begin.”

    As she spoke each of the newly embraced was handed a glass with blood in it. Danielle was given a large plastic jug instead.

    Amy
    Spoiler
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    You recognize the name Donovon as the one the other’s mentioned before. You know that like you, she is Nosferatu. Slick and Mike were unarmed, though Flat Face handed over a pair of brass knuckles and a sawed-off shotgun.


    Claire
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    Victor handed over a small sidearm, but Rogan had no weapon, joking that maybe they should hold him instead, if they dared. The guards did not respond to his challenge. His parting words were, “Don’t trust any of them.”


    Danielle
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    There wasn’t enough time for Al to tell you about Jackal the Nine-Bladed, only to promise she would soon enough. As to why he would hunt her, it was simple. First, Danielle was the only one he had got a good look at, and two, Danielle was the only one who had easily discovered connections to the mortal world.

    As to putting her family in danger, Al simply said that her family and friends were only in as much danger as Danielle chose.


    Erica
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    The ride over to the Prince’s was pleasant. Josef had a sharp wit, commenting on some of the latest cultural trends in the Americas, mostly his pity for the poor humans who had to endure it. He did admit though that it was a vast improvement over the 1980s.

    When she was let out, Josef assured her that he would be waiting alongside the Prince when she was brought in.


    Faruq
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    Melani did not speak to Faruq. In fact, she sat the front of the limousine with the driver, leaving Faruq alone in the back to his own thoughts. Any weapon he had was confiscated by the servants of the Prince at the second checkpoint, the wouldn’t be able to proceed until then. He had no parting words from his sire.


    Rick
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    On their way, he began to hear more and more about how strange the night was. Apparently, there were six of them total who had been embraced, something that simply didn’t happen often, and certainly not in a medium sized city such as Havensworth. Apparently two were from Clan Ventrue, the former leaders of the city, and who owned the biggest financial institution in the city. Another was Clan Nosferatu, a clan of monstrous-looking kindred who now ruled the city. A fourth was Clan Gangrel, those in touch with the wilderness and their inner beast. The last was a clanless, a Caitiff, a young girl who’d most likely be killed as her sire wasn’t given permission to embrace.

    Quenton reassured Rick that he’d be fine as he was dropped off.


    All
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    Everyone has half a blood point in their glass, you need to drink a second to get a blood point. Danielle has three blood points worth of blood in her hand.

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    Default Re: Deathknell Chronicles IC, Chapter 1: Eyes Open

    Erica Lee
    Still wearing the professional outfit she'd had pressed specifically for a job interview at an investment firm, the young woman shifted in her chair, attempting to find a comfortable position and only partially succeeding. She glanced around at the others, but when it became apparent that none would immediately speak, she raised her free hand.

    "Hello Donovan, I'm Erica," she said.
    "What's your best advice?" she asked.
    Last edited by Thundercracker; 2012-07-22 at 12:38 AM.
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    Default Re: Deathknell Chronicles IC, Chapter 1: Eyes Open

    The woman, or thing perhaps, shuffled itself around to face Erica, gazing at her. "Observe. Watch how the kindred act tonight. See who are allies, see who are enemies, see who seems to hold power, and who are on the outside."

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    Default Re: Deathknell Chronicles IC, Chapter 1: Eyes Open

    Keep calm.

    These were the words Rick repeated to himself like a chant. He truly was in the belly of the beast, with men and women who could kill him with a flick of their wrists. The former cop intended to watch, observe, and perform when needed. He started by observing the other new Kindred. All of them were likely more or less as in the dark as he was. The detective took some comfort in that thought.

    "Nice to meet you Donovon. Name's Rick." He greeted the thing, attempting to be as polite as possible. Even if it was a monster, it deserved some respect, at least until it showed itself to be anything other then polite.

    "How many Kindred tend to come to these little parties? Thirty? Forty?" He figured it was best to know just how big this society truly was.

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    Default Re: Deathknell Chronicles IC, Chapter 1: Eyes Open

    "There is no need for pleasantries, Tremere, but I'll remember the courtesy." She moved forward a few scuttles. "There were 31 kindred recognized by the Prince in this city, though not all will be in attendence. Two kindred have met final death this night, then there are the six of you who wait to be accepted or not."

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    Default Re: Deathknell Chronicles IC, Chapter 1: Eyes Open

    Back in the shower, Faruq had had a revelation visited upon him, he was sure of it. Reconsidering his battles of the day, and all what had come of it, he had recognised a certain, repeating pattern interspesed throughout it all: When he had planned and thought in advance, struggled to keep his self-control, he had been beaten, every time:

    I trieda' push her out da window, she jus' up an' noticed dat. Even though I'd been all sneaky-like an' distractin'. How? When I woke up, I trieda' play at stupid, like, I don't even know who I am anymore, and it di'n't even get recognised. Why? Even dis Kirsch-ass ponce-o looked at me all knowin'-like, and all dis time, dem's both been frontin' threats. Why'd they do that to a guy dey's killed? A guy who's like fully aware dey got super-powers? 'cause, ob-vi-ous-ly, they can read mah mind. Like dat. Everytime I trieda' outsmart 'em, I... well... I did it, eventually. But still, they seemed so outta it all, like there's not even anything new to that. Like it ain't even worth nah respect when a guy goes up against a whole -room- fulla living dead without even a shirt on - and he makes 'em jump! The hell was that all about?

    But when he had acted on instinct and impulse, he had typically gotten what passed for successes out of it:

    I mean, I went up against her with a cheap-ass age-old lighter, just like that. She hadda strength an'a speed an'a teeth and I? I was already down for the count 'n' bleedin'. And den I come up wi' mah hands on mah lighter, and I swear, she up friggin' -jumped-. Thinking back to that moment of obvious fear in Melanie's eyes, a predatorial smirk had graced his features once more, and the water pouring down upon and all around him had shortly reflected scenes of carnage in the pale, red dribble it had still been washing off his maltreated skin. And I promised her I would see her suffer. Coat myself in her blood and speak prayers atop her corpse one day. And I -meant- it. Every word. And dis thing inside me? Jus' kept roarin', I should wait for her snapping, catch her in rage, bite down on the fist that would strike me and rip and tear. Until I got the blood. And suddenly, I's all calm, and in time for their little whatsit with Uncle Ahmad's voice there.

    And only then had he remembered what exactly it had been that he had thought:

    So, obviously, they can read my mind, somehow. I told her to read my plans in my thoughts, and she did, 'parently. Next mistake she'd make there. Braggin' 'bout it, like a goddamn punk. Tol' me she can read it, see it, hear it, jus' by lookin' at me once. She tipped her hand. They jus' keep betrayin' themselves all over, nothin' for me to do. And all a' dat means that I can't jus' plan my crap. Thinkin' means that I level the field in their favor, and that is tha last thing I'd want. Dey's terrified a' me packin' my instincts, though. And that's how I gotta roll. They laid me in heavy chains, and tol' me it's for my protection, like I'm a retard. But they were afraid a' me, no two ways about it. And so, I gotta keep on rollin', winning, but I can't just plan. I gotta act on instinct, hella sudden, hella cool. And inbetween two boutsa sudden cool, I gotta weasel. Lion-blooded Ferret, bitches. I am just too good for you.

    He had felt a lot like an animal, in a good way, all the way here to this place. Like something you'd keep in the back of your car, afraid to sit next to it, like Melanie had obviously been. After he had stepped out of the shower, having considered and deliberated like many a time when watching the rain, and nursing his bong on his knee while eating, he had felt relieved. He had gotten the chance to remove all the waste from his system, to think, to take stock, and to regain focus. In a way, it almost seemed to have done more for him than all the blood, but it was blood for which he lusted, hungered, now. And the absence of the rain, as well as Melanie's implying silence, had left him room to ponder his new outlook, to get used to this new suit, and to ultimately clean his mind and very pointedly think about nothing (which here meant "various colorful parrots using various colorful cursewords in rapid succession in front of his inner eye").

    Yes, Faruq al-Assad had tried to be in control. The nagging questions Miss Forrest's repeated comments about hatred and wanting to make things pleasant had instilled within him, he had done his best to force aside. He would not, could not allow himself to love her, forgive her, respect anything about her - except her superior strength. What he had sought to do was to remain in control of himself, and of his surroundings, and yes, a series of most unfortunate overreactions had eventually been his end. But he had gotten his second chance, and his god-given mission, and proof and a cause and a conscience to go along. So maybe he would be expected to try and act less out-for-power this time around? To less persistently strive for control? Perhaps what all this implied was the need for him to act purely on instinct from time to time, to leave the Lion out only where all the Ferret's feints had faltered?

    At any rate, the Ferret in question had chosen to go with that.

    Yet as for questions for Donovon, he had too many to ask.

    The first, and most obvious one, had naturally been "Damn, lady, what kinda freak-show they pulled ya out from? You a goblin or somethin'? Crap. Seriously, get outta my hair like now!", but he had kept his mouth shut in front of her, partially because she seemed to actually be important, and partially because she was certainly not the only one of such... captivating looks currently in the room. The other one would appear to be in a rather similar position to him and his own, of course - But still, he preferred to not overtly delve into appearances at this point.

    Really, they simply were so ugly. But then, that one kid there was drinking her blood right out of a jug, where they'd been given glasses (I miss my glasses, still!) - and what would it matter, then? Appearances, where they mattered, lay in style as much as looks. Thus, Hussain would always tell him, and as such he kept his cool.

    Instead, he would sit, drink, bask in his own greatness, study the other five people and the thing in front, or four people with one thing among them and another one in front, hope for a refill, and hear the other's questions out before asking his own - which would probably be for a refill, after all.

    Really though, about thirty? And we's supposed to cow-tow to them 'n' what? Can't say I like this whole thing one bit. And, feeling like it couldn't hurt him to make allies, he tried to project his relaxation all over the room, trying to take the edge out of this whole situation, waiting for his turn to speak.

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    Tl;dr: Keeps mouth shut for now, will ask last, if possible. And not actually about a refill, I guess it bears pointing out.
    Last edited by Worlok; 2012-07-22 at 02:06 AM. Reason: Insults.

  7. - Top - End - #7
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    Default Re: Deathknell Chronicles IC, Chapter 1: Eyes Open

    Thank you, Mike. Thank you so very much for the wonderful evening, Amy thinks, sarcastically, as she sits blindfolded in a strange room. She sighs. Can't keep blaming him, can she? She has made her thoughts on the matter very clear, and now is probably the time to stop thinking about what's happened and start thinking about how to, you know, survive in the days to come.

    When the blindfold is finally dropped, Amy turns around to look at the other people in the room None of them has fangs is her first thought, which she supposes is her brain's polite way to say 'none of them are hideous monters like you'. Well, Mike had warned her about that, at the very least. He had said that this particular curse is only of the Nosferatu. Aren't I so very luc... Wait, i know that guy.

    That guy is the young man sitting on her immediate left. Amy mentally substitutes the gray suit with a hoodie, adds a swagger and an assured smile... She has saen him sometimes at the shop. More often than not with a thick smell of smoke surrounding him, and not cigarette smoke, either. Well, if I know him, he most certainly won't know me. Amy reminds herself to stop staring. Can't be pleasant having someone like her staring at you, after all.

    She stares at her glass without drinking, for a moment, then mentally steels herself and downs the contents. Whatever taste she was expecting, that was not it. It tastes sweet, actually. Well, at least I like it. It would have been awkward if I couldn't stand the taste. She very consciously chooses to not think about where the liquid in her glass is coming from. Now is really not the time.

    "Ma'am" she starts. Madam? Miss? Awful abomination from the night? Speaking as a fellow awful abomination, Amy figures it wouldn't hurt to be polite "Would something be requested from me, in particular?" This is the person that chose her, after all, at least according to Mike. She doesn't want to err for lack of etiquette.
    Last edited by Strawberries; 2012-07-22 at 03:27 PM. Reason: italics
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    Default Re: Deathknell Chronicles IC, Chapter 1: Eyes Open

    "No." The words almost hit like a hammer, at least at first. "The five of you will go through the tradition of being accepted into the city. Once that is over, you will be handed back to your sires. Your sires, and the elders of your Clan if they are not one and the same will isntruct you on any special duties you have, after the formalities."

    There was no mistaking that she said five, not six.

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    Default Re: Deathknell Chronicles IC, Chapter 1: Eyes Open

    Danielle shivered, she had been right anyway whatever else they this was the behaviour of a crazy cult, handover your weapons was sensible, blindfolds to cause a sense of helplessness, new members held together first to build a sense of community, coupled with the cloaked leader of the ceremony.

    She looked at the jug of blood - she doubted that getting more blood was to be considered a sign of high status - she smiled at that lightly, what else could one do in these circumstances.

    She tried a sip, she expected the taste of blood to be as it always was during and after fights where she wasn't fast enough, it wasn't thought tasting refreshing not unlike a glass of refreshing water after a hard work out, her stomach churned at the thought - this was someone kid, maybe a parent or a sibling - and she was drinking there blood like a refreshment, but she had to that was clear, maybe Jackal the Nine-Bladed was the hero here and her just an unfortunate accident that he had tried to save before she became a monster like the others, she continued drinking trying to control herself while forcing the blood to her injured leg, to try to heal. But Al had made it clear he might go after her mother and friends, and she would not allow that.

    She sat for a few minutes like this hearing the others speak and the leader answer before she focused on anything except the blood and her own hunger.

    Finally looking around, mostly women she noticed, that added other unfortunate implications, but than Al was a woman and did not seem a slave so maybe it was just her being bad-minded.

    She had to stop herself recoiling from the hideous creature beside her, her fingers tightening on her chair to prevent herself leaving it, the rest looked normal enough but deep down the monster was only showing outwardly what they all likely were within, if the woman caught her reacting she forced a small apologetic small for it, she was new too so likely not her fault.

    Sitting in her chair in her tracksuit, she caught her own smell for the first time that night being to preoccupied earlier the sweat from her jobbing long sense having settled into the clothes, she was decidedly uncomfortable as she thought of her question, can I make a phone call to avoid a manhunt being called, sensible but her mother was not panicky with her, she knew that she could care for herself - hell she might even still be at work, can you explain the rules that I have to follow they had already indicated they would get to that, can I have more blood the thought turned her stomach, where did the blood come from who had suffered for her to feed ... that one stuck with her but for a meeting of thirty or so the person may not even be able to answer. Why am I regarded as so dangerous this one was important but not something she wanted advertised.

    Her voice soft and respectful with a defeated sound to it, "what is your best advise you can offer me to avoid being destroyed while securing as much independence as possible for myself", truthfully she wasn't even sure the courtesy of a question applied to her also given how they had acted so far.

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    Default Re: Deathknell Chronicles IC, Chapter 1: Eyes Open

    Donovon laughed, and her age showed a little more clearly, as her deep alto turned into a raspy, chilling sound. "Oh, you're a smart Caitiff, aren't you? To those of you unware, this girl is Clanless. She is of weak blood, the lowest of the low. Unlike the rest of you, her sire had not earned the right to pass on the curse to another. Whereas the rest of you are entering a coronation of sorts, this one is walking into a trial.

    "Act meek. Act respectful. Beg if you have to. Do not correct anything a kindred says, even if you believe them wrong. Even if you know they're wrong."

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    Default Re: Deathknell Chronicles IC, Chapter 1: Eyes Open

    Respectful, she could do that, she had been practising for college interviews, meek might pose a challenge, but she could try at least.

    "Thank you Donovon", there that was respectful, she could do this, "might I offer an idea that may save you and yours some time or annoyance?", and that was somewhat meek.

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    Default Re: Deathknell Chronicles IC, Chapter 1: Eyes Open

    If the others in the room took time to notice Claire they'd find her dressed plainly, sneakers jeans and a grey tee, plain except for the words 'Heavensworth College' printed in block black letters. They were also showing signs of being quite damp from the ill weather. Her shoulder length dark brown hair hung loose, and most definitely could use some care, tangled and windblown with more then a bit of dampness to it. Though aside from what had evidently been a rough night she could certainly be called attractive, just not this moment unless "disheveled" was high on the list of desired traits. Something not helped by Claire's present demeanor. Her arms were crossed over her breasts, while the fingers of her right hand tapped on her other arm. Her eyes went around the room slowly, a cat eying a new environment and irritated at having been disturbed.

    Claire was not sure what she had been expecting but she did not like being blindfolded to be led off like a sheep. She'd already had a rough time and was in no mood to be taken off by more strangers. What a great joke that would have made, killed twice in one night. It seemed though that the medieval subterfuge was just that though. Claire found herself faced with a man (woman?) wrapped in robes, they looked like someone had ripped them off Friar Tuck and added a hood. Those eyes though, not a human then. Another vampire then?

    After taking in Donovan Claire's eyes had darted to the ugliest woman, she'd ever seen. God how many vampires looked right out of Nosferatu? The rest were better. One was a teenager, couldn't have been in college long. The rest were more alike at a glance a woman and two men in business suits like she'd grown up seeing her dad come home from work in. Profession types then? At least the older two, who confirmed that impression when they spoke. The third, something Middle Eastern, looked too young for that. An interesting collection of people to say the least.

    Claire hung back and let the others speak. One question was a bit silly at this point in the game. Apparently living forever didn't give these vampires any clues on how to educate. Questions came last, you were supposed to lecture first and then open the floor. She had many but with no basis to go on how could she prioritize their importance?

    The others responses started to fill in the picture some. Evidence suggested that vampires came in different types, Rogan had called himself Gangrel that one had been labelled Tremere. They didn't sound like names, or not personal ones at least. And the teen, clanless they said, was subject to destruction for what had happened to her. Vampire law it seemed was pitiless, killed again just for family relations or more importantly it seem lack of. Rogan had told her vampires were political, she'd been expecting something a bit less tribal. Damn but what could she do to help the girl? For that matter should she even try help her? Being a dead parasite had to demand some sort of ethical revision. Claire stared into the cup of in her left hand seeking to answers to her own questions.

    Though speaking of cups of blood. She devoured Charlie for the same stuff now filling a cup. Worse still, though sated pretty well she knew she could have more. Something inside her wanted more and more. No this time it didn't get to win. She couldn't go around leaving corpses behind her, she needed to have control. And it would start with moderation, she'd fed tonight and that was that. Claire put the cup on the nearest space that seemed convenient, the floor if need be. The universal signal for not interested.

    "If there's to be a trial and a ceremony then all this seems to be just eating up time," she said after some time, "One question is a nice favor and all but I could come up with dozens just off the top of my head. There's a whole world that humanity and science know nothing about but some old myths. If its all the same I'll hold off asking any question until I have enough understanding to ask a real one."

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    Default Re: Deathknell Chronicles IC, Chapter 1: Eyes Open

    "Thank you, ma'am", Amy replies when her question is answered, then wisely shuts up. She had been thinking more along the lines of etiquette and less along the line of duties, as Donovan had seemed to misunderstand, but it was nice to know that she wouldn't be held in any special standard. Wait, did she just say five? What about... A moment later, Donovan meaning is made clear.

    And I thought I had got the short end of the stick. She turns to look at the woman Donovon had defined as lowest of the low. She had flinched, before, when looking at her, and had tried to cover it up. Yeah, can't really blame her here. Despite that, Amy tries for an encouraging smile. Given the kind of face she has to work with, how much it looks like a proper smile and how much like a grin of the kind 'I'm gonna wait under your bed this night to slit your throat and eat your liver' is anyone's guess, but it's the best she can do under the circumstances.
    Last edited by Strawberries; 2012-07-22 at 03:31 PM.
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    Default Re: Deathknell Chronicles IC, Chapter 1: Eyes Open

    Donovon's smile could be felt by everyone. "Oh, Rogan's young pup is clever. Yes, I am wasting all of your time. As we speak, your elders are learning what they can about you, figuring out how the power dynamics in the city have changed. Now then, do you have a question Scotsman, or can we proceed to the part that's not wasting all of your time?"

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    Default Re: Deathknell Chronicles IC, Chapter 1: Eyes Open

    Erica
    Erica turned her gaze to Faruq, her expression neutral. Straight black hair had been retied into a neat bun on the back of her head during the car ride. Though her face was carefully non-committal, her posture betrayed a hint of curiosity at his answer, or perhaps it was just anticipation of the struggle she expected in understanding his accent.
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    Default Re: Deathknell Chronicles IC, Chapter 1: Eyes Open

    Well. All eyes on me, they's on about the wastes of time, and no point trying to get smart with these. Having had spaced out for but the shortest of instants there, and in the throes of stress levels ironically lowering in the face of the impending meeting, Faruq was not entirely sure whether he actually had any important questions.

    We're supposed to be all careful and polite around the old guys, roll with their bull**** and act like they's smarter than us. Nothing new. We're also supposed to leave a good impression. What more is there to know? The non-Donovon-abomination had been looking at him, he could have sworn it. Likewise, the others had by this point at least noticed his presence - and he, in turn, had noticed that except for the dude that Donovon had called "Tremere", and possibly any number of the goblin-looking two, he was alone among girls in here. One more reason to not act stupid, obviously.

    "Caitiff" means Clanless? This is a thing of Clans. Then that means trouble for her. Eyes on me. Whole lotta ladies in here with me. One of 'em clanless. Goblin said five, not six. Whole lotta crap going on here, then. Just means I gotta be hero-tier. Act cool, then they'll be cool 'round me, and act impressed as necessary, then I can impress. Make allies, settle things, work out advantage. How? No clue. Can act like having one, however. He had realised a short while ago that there was actually a lot of opportunity for him to act calm, in control, and confident around this whole "vampire" thing - After all, if people like Forrest and Kirsch, who had all reason to be scared of, mad at, and nasty to him, took time out to ask him what kind of blood he wanted, and arranged for it, then it stood to reason that the blood inside his glass was likewise not the type that had been suffered for, and he did not have any reason to be worried here in the least. (Except if that stuff was all bogus, and this is some torture victim I'm havin' here. Which would mean they'd been lying, and that would in turn mean I would have found that much out by now. Somehow. Idiots that they are.)

    As certainly, noone else was as smart as he had been about that one, however, this meant he could, for one, drink blood - which might in the end have something to do with his superpower potential - yet, thereby, also send out to everyone else in the room that he was on top of this, perfectly fine with what he had become, and likely carried some sort of plan around in his head. As he did not actually have one, beyond "not letting anybody get the drop on him" and "leaving good impressions", not even a mind-reader could track it down, though, and as such he would now wield the element of surprise, of knowing-what-noone-else-would-know, and stand the best chance out of everyone in here to hold his own in there. Which, in turn, meant instant respect, instant "being interesting", and ultimately a clear sign that he was not impressed with the show they'd put on for them at all. Which I ain't, jus' to make it clear.

    Speaking of... They's gonna find out about us what they can? Then that means Forrest is likely filling them in with the stuff we are thinking now as we speak. Or that any number of them is mind-readers, too. That means I shan't play games with them. And that means, just act natural, all instinct up in dis. So, showtime, buddy. Sudden cool. Faruq made to rise, enjoying the notion of at least a good-sized share of the eyes in the room having at least glanced at him by this point, cooly presented his now-emptied glass, and as he looked around, could almost feel just how damn good he looked with this as he put on his sexy voice and responded: "Well, certainly, Miss Donovon, we can. The name's Faruq, however, and if you'd let me have my question, then, I'd have to ask ya whether we could get a refill up in dis before we go, y'know?" And with that, he gestured at the various glasses and cups and plastic jugs with his own emptied drink container, whipped out his most dazzling salesman smile, and enjoyed feeling like he knew just exactly what he was doing - once and for now, if nothing else. "No point having us run in hungry, after all." ...Oh well. Now it's out, coulda timed that better. But why bother, my point's been made. And he, Faruq the Ferret al-goddamn-Assad, was, once again, in control.

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    Also, screw it, tempted to blow Presence for a first impression now. Should I, folks, what say you?
    Last edited by Worlok; 2012-07-23 at 02:19 AM. Reason: Oh well.

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    Claire gave a satisfied grunt. That hadn't been much of a guess, but it seemed she'd jumped all the barrels after all. Of course Donovan and anyone else that might be watching didn't need to know that. Less it seemed was more in this so she said nothing further.

    When Faruq spoke she'd suppress her suprise. Despite his appearence his voice said Scottish. That was certainly, irregular to say the least. He'd been keeping quiet too, and that question was perhaps too trivial even for this being a waste of time. If he'd really been after more blood he could have just asked for her cup, she'd not touched it. Maybe he was attempting to score points in a different manner.

    Claire stopped herself though, she was playing into the game that was going on. Considering her fellow newbies as maneuvering politicians. She'd fallen into the mode of thought almost by instinct. Unless it was actually instinct. A troubling consideration. Perhaps the animal inside her was more subtle then she'd imagined. If so it would explain something about Rogan. Was that her fate, to end up a cold calculating animal with no affection for another, just ledgers of win and loss. Very troubling.
    Last edited by Soras Teva Gee; 2012-07-23 at 02:08 AM.

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    "You all may." They could here scuttling about as the servants moved to get more glasses, and a second jug if need be.

    As the servants handed those who wished a second drink their full glass, Donvon spoke. "The five of you embraced with permission will enter first, the order does not matter. Goo in single file, and do not speak until spoken to. There will be a long table to your right, occupied by seven kindred. These are the Primogen, the elders of each Clan. In the center will be Jean du Noir, he is of my Clan, and Amy's." She gestured, pale, gnarled fingers towards Amy. "So I suggest you prepare yourselves for someone less than pleasant on the eyes. Each of you will be introudced by your sires. Once again, stay silent. Jean will list you the six traditions our kind lives by. You will swear upon these laws, pnealty of final death. After that, you will be free to mingle with your peers and your betters.

    "Danielle, you will stand to the side as the others are accepting. Once they have sworn their vows, you will stand trial. Jean will be your judge, and your jury. Al Rowe will speak on your behalf. It has yet to be decided who you take the lead role in your prosecution. I believe they are arguing over who will get the privilege now. The trail will be short.

    "You have one minute to finish your drink and prepared yourselves. First impressions count."

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    I'll give 24 hours before I post them walking into the banquet.

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    Rick sips from the blood, though he does not feel hungry. Still, better get used to the taste, seeing as he would be consuming it for eternity.

    The disturbing part was that he was already used to it. He wasn't quite human anymore, and the thought sobered him.

    The former detective rises to his feet. He casts a brief glance at Danielle, the leper of their group. He finds herself hoping she survives. To be caught up in all this, then killed because of some backroom politicking... it would be a damn shame, and the exact kind of injustice he fought against in mortal life. To find the same sort of injustice pervaded this society would frustrate him. Especially if these kindred's ideas of an "execution" was letting someone like Harry tear the poor victim apart.

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    Default Re: Deathknell Chronicles IC, Chapter 1: Eyes Open

    Lady, we ARE prepared for someone less than pleasant on the eyes. By now, if nothing else. The initial icebreaker he had just landed fuelling him, he happily drank his glassfull, straightened up, fussed about with his hair a little to look more stylishly dishevelled - which was, after all, the look he was typically going for, and if the look in the mirror he had gotten after his shower and while dressing up had been any reliable indication, he did, if anything, look less dead now than when he'd been alive, his rebirth having done away with the pallor and rattiness his erstwhile habit had left him with over the years - and made sure to practice his standard facial expressions - No point letting his eyes betray that he thought of this whole affair as a crude, witless joke at everyone's expense, now was there? Reckoned such. I mean, seriously, that girl wasn't given a choice about this, and neither was anyone else, if my way of... recruitment is standard in any way. But instead of jacking the guy that actually -knew- the rules and "embraced" - Mighty One, how I hate that euphemism - some chick without any permission, anyway, they put his -victim- on the line and want to -kill- her. Hardly a halfway sane system these peeps got going, here. So, he could score points by acting cool, no question. He could do respectful. He could play along. But perhaps he could leave an even better expression by taking his chances where they arose, and maybe this "Prince" would be somewhat more reasonable than the retards and lackeys they'd met right and up until now? All the more since, hey, if I just got that right, dude's a goblin exactly like Donovon and... her. A look at Amy, a name already forgotten, if she had even mentioned it so far. Better ask again before they went in there, then. Chances are I got exactly the point to convince him, and even if he's not the judge in this, he should have some control. Be cool, Faruq, you are in it to win it, here. This felt good - Having a goal and an angle, even if both were short-term ones. Emptying his glass with a final sip, and noticing that a good share of his minute had already passed, he conspired to maybe initiate conversation, now, as standing in waiting rooms and talking was better than standing in waiting rooms and silently waiting for something to happen, far as he knew.

    "So, as I said, everybody. Thanks again, Donnie, by the way, good to have some answers down up front. But as I was sayin', the name's Faruq. This is Erica." This with a gesture at and another wink towards the girl in question. If she is my better, and Kirsch wants me to act the part, I might as well play the herald and introduce. All the more since... ah well, that backside, man. Anyhow, focus, now. "And from what I can gather, we's Ventrue, which is basically one of the clans. Going by what good Miss Donovon here just tol' us, there's about seven of those, and the bosses of them will play judge 'n' jury in there today. Or spectators, I'm not quite sure. Anyhow, if I might compile that, we know we gotta act smooth, and won't have to worry 'bout anything if we do. Donovon already said it's jus' a formality, so, everyone ease up, and we's gonna get this over with and no harm done. But I'd say, anyone else like me in this, we prolly all got more questions than one, and some more introductions are well in order. Like, we's all in one boat here, yes?" Take the nervosity. Speak. Focus. Get it on track. Project control. Rick, Amy, Erica, those are names I heard. Figure the guy is Rick, might as well sort this out then. "So. You there, big guy. I understand ya name is Rick, and ya clan would be called Tree-murr, then? Or that a surname or somethin'? More we know, the less trouble they'll hit us with if they's tryin'." And they will, from the way things look like, and you ain't gotta know there's mind-reading up in dat.

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    Saving Presence for Monsieur de Noir, then, actually. You said we need one more glass for a blood point, though, daelrog - What's our pools look like, then, the refills in?
    Last edited by Worlok; 2012-07-23 at 03:16 AM. Reason: Tree-murr!

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    Oh, I don't know. One more than the last update on your preludes. At this point, I trust each player to take into account their blood pools. Danielle can heal her wound, and have up to five additional blood points if she down both jugs.

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    Claire caught the attention of the servers and took the chance to return her untouched glass. It was more then a little disturbing how much seemed to be available. Even if she needed it to live on now she could think of no way to keep large stocks she could call humane. Even if freely given it could be put to better use then casual refreshment. Bad enough she'd killed a man to slake her thirst tonight she didn't need to contribute to routine harvesting.

    "I'll bring up the rear of the line," Claire said rising to her feet and pushing any other chatter to the back of her mind.

    She cared as little for the order of the line, but it seemed simplest to express a preference right off. Let the suits or one actually related to the Prince go first. Besides she wasn't going to make much an impression being the only one dressed casually and normally. Or so her mind and the smidgeon of manners she'd picked up growing up told her, having them all stripped down and come in naked would have elicited as much actual interest from Claire. Might be more comfortable actually, her outfit didn't seem to be fitting right. She was simply, aware, or it in a confining way. Probably the hard wear they'd seen tonight.

    What occupied Claire at the moment was the poor girl about to stand trial. The juxtaposition was severe to say the least. Claire couldn't think of anything to really help though. This was the sort of social thing that had never appealed to her, she preferred things that worked on reliable principles. Human minds were the opposite, coming out on top of a situation like this was an art not a science. Still Claire didn't want to be another to leave the teen out in the cold.

    "Hi I'm Claire," She said to Danielle as she approached, "I didn't catch your name but I just wanted to let you know you have my sympathy. I wasn't planning on dying this evening either and had little choice, but you seem to have gotten a rougher hand then the rest of us. I don't think I can do anything to help you but I hope you pull through."

    It occurred to Claire that if the teen was some sort of criminal that showing sympathy might be looked down on. Here though she just didn't care, it was just a decent thing to do.

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    Amy nods politely at the offer of a refill, sipping the second glass more slowly and actually trying to decode the taste. She doesn't manage to go behind 'sweet' and 'pleasant'. Prepare yourself, she says. Bummer, I seem to have left my make-up kit in the other purse. Powdering my nose would certainly help my chances now. In a way, that's Amy's way to prepare herself. Taking the entire thing as a joke, even if only in her mind, helps her being calmer.

    She turns another look to the others, taking in their faces and their expression, and, once again, she find herself looking at the woman on her right. If Amy is nervous and scared, she doesn't even want to think about what... Danielle, was it? is thinking right now. She honestly feels for the girl. And associating in any way with her in this moment won't certainly be a good first impression to make on my part, would it? But...screw that. Amy looks down for a moment at her hands Not too bad, the skin is gray, but I don't have...talons or anything like that, then reaches out on her right and squeezes briefly Danielle's arm, in a silent gesture of support.

    In that exact moment, the other girl comes forward and introduces herself. Apparently, she's had more or less the same idea as Amy. Good. I guess there are more than some decent people even among vam... kindreds. That is a relief.
    Last edited by Strawberries; 2012-07-23 at 06:10 AM.
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    Default Re: Deathknell Chronicles IC, Chapter 1: Eyes Open

    Erica
    The red liquid stained the sides of her glass as she swirled it. She didn't desire any more, and she doubted it was up to her standard anyway, but she liked having something to occupy her hand.

    Erica blinked. She'd definitely heard her name.., then she realized Faruq was giving a bona fide speech, and he had just introduced her. Once again, she tried to keep her expression neutral, but could not suppress a small sigh as she brought her thumb and two fingertips to her temple and forehead at the mention of how the meeting was a mere formality and no harm done. Apparently the Scotsman had forgotten about the life or death trial to take place immediately after their introductions.

    "Yes, I'm Erica Lee," she said, rising to her feet once Faruq finished. She was clearly Asian, with fair skin, probably a tad fairer now than earlier in the day, wearing a conservative suit and heels. She looks to be in her early twenties, but it was difficult to say with certainty.

    "Very nice to meet all of you, Amy, Rick, Danielle, sorry I didn't catch your name," she spoke each person's name as she turned to them, Claire being the odd kindred out.
    "Faruq," she smiled, "and Donovan, thank you for answering our questions."

    She paused, apparently unsure of how to proceed.

    "I'm sorry, I didn't bring any business cards, I'll be sure to get some made up," she deadpanned before taking a seat again.
    "I'll go first," she added, crossing her legs.
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    Default Re: Deathknell Chronicles IC, Chapter 1: Eyes Open

    The investigator listens as the Arab rambles. He was either incredibly nervous, or pretending to be a fool. Maybe a combination of both. Rick makes a note to continue to observe him.

    "Charmed to meet you Faruq. Erica." He says gruffly to them both, before giving a brief nod to the other new vampires. Yeah, my name's Rick. Private investigator, which may be why I was recruited." He chuckles dryly, tugging at his suit uncomfortably. He may look formal, but he felt unused to such extravagance.

    "From what I understand, Tremere is my clan. Can't tell you much more than that. My turning was rather... sudden."

    A thought strikes him. "Did either of you have a weird vision when you were turned? A sort of... out of body experience?" The persistent vision nags at him.

    Seeing Erica declare she would go first, Rick makes a note of that as well. A social climber? Eager to impress, perhaps?.

    "I'll go second, if no one has any objections." He expects none, but he has no desire to antagonize any of his new "family."
    Last edited by Dark Seeker; 2012-07-23 at 01:43 PM.

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    Default Re: Deathknell Chronicles IC, Chapter 1: Eyes Open

    Amy stares for a couple of moments...and then starts to laugh. It's a genuine, amused laugh, even if it sounds a lot more like a cackle. She supposes it's just the way her jaw is made now. And she needed the laugh, even if it's at her own expenses. She didn't find a better stress relief when she was alive, and she doubts she's going to find one now.

    "Out of body? No" she says after a second, when she can talk again "My experience was pretty much all in the body, as you can see" she says, gesturing at her ruined face. For a moment, she has a sudden memory of a mirror, and hideous lime curtains, and feels a flash of panic, but it's soon overcome, and just a second after, she can't remember if she's really felt it. "And go right ahead, I'll come after you."
    Last edited by Strawberries; 2012-07-23 at 01:57 PM.
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    Default Re: Deathknell Chronicles IC, Chapter 1: Eyes Open

    Somehow, his attempt to calm everyone down didn't quite seem to work as intended. You better do as I'm sayin', folks. This is all foregone conclusions here. There's just no way they don't already know what they gotta know, and none of us got a chance 'less we at least -look- like we know what we's doin'. They had to realise that much. They could not be that thick. So get chill, and stay chill, and nothing can happen. They's gonna try and kill that girl, and unless we's at our best against that bull****, she is actually gonna die, and we'll be guilty. Trust me, guys, when I say things like that, it's just because I got a plan, okay? At least the ugly one - didn't he recognise that voice from somewhere? - was now laughing, so at least he had had some positive effect with this. Two positive effects. Erica had, after all, just smiled at him. "M'pleasure, Miss Erica. Anything else I can help with, you ask, alright?"

    And for the maybe less positive ones, he had just been adressed by Rick. Sort of. "Outta body though? Only kinda. Was dreamin'. Weird stuff. Chalked it up to bloodloss, really." He shrugged. Not like anyone needed to know about him having long and much-needed talks with people his subconscious pretended to be before dying and then waking up while chained in a basement. "Also, private investigator? Like Humphrey-Bogart-type stuff 'n' crap?" He briefly imagined this guy with a hat and coat on, narrating to himself while stalking dark alleys in search of blood and criminals. "That's kinda badass. I was in... sales, up to now." P.I.s mean "cops", and "cops" mean "bad for business". Except Steve. But what are the odds that this guy got any hang on that? No need to get our stress on in here, at any rate. "Mainly just cheap merchandise, like 'em little keyrings and watches and stuff, y'know? Anyway, if noone minds, I'mma take the rear when we're going in." Can't walk behind Erica, maybe check out what the others got. And get a grip on the situation. Stay in control, Faruq, stay in control.
    Last edited by Worlok; 2012-07-23 at 02:27 PM. Reason: Scottish Scumbag Smoothness.

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    Ok Danielle thought, not even going to hear me out on helping them, well that was to be blunt expected a call home to avoid a possible manhunt - and thereby buy some time for the vampires to concoct some believable lie as to why she had gone missing after they killed her so that no one would investigate and her mother would be safe, was probably to much to hope.

    She flinched again when the hideous woman smiled back, she hated herself for it, she had seen two deaths tonight not including her own, and in fairness she had not flinched then, get a grip, actually that was it, it was the atmosphere of waiting and expecting the worst, it used to happen at fights to what if I lose, what if I stumble, what if I get hurt, eventually it became what if I hurt them, and the lesson was have a glass of water and calm down, do your best and don't worry about something if it hadn't happened then plan against it, if it had then learn from it, the thought was something of a revelation to her, but it always was when she worried at fights.

    Taking her refilled jug she finished drinking and tested her leg finding it healed, do what you have to it is to late to worry now, they are the monsters not me, darkly she added not yet but it was mostly for internal humour, poking fun at herself.

    The trail will be short Donovan had said, likely meaning that the outcome was certain and as privilege had been used to describe prosecuting her likely not in her favour. "If this is one of those trials where the lawyer gets executed at the end if their client loses I would prefer to have Al avoid that", she stated flatly, Al for whatever reason had helped her and she didn't want to see her die.

    At the odd man's comment on 'it's jus' a formality' she actually barked a laugh, "Yea that what I'm thinking too ... but thanks for pointing it out", she stuck her head ruefully, well at least there is a sense of finality to it, and I won't have to hurt anyone considering unless there is a trial by combat in which case I think I will hurt someone.

    She looked at the woman as she approached, half expecting some sarcastic comment like she might have heard in school for the airheads and was almost taken-aback by the kind words, "I ... appreciate that, but I wouldn't worry really", sighing "in a few weeks and months when you can't meet your friends during the day and at night smell them as food, when you can't go home for Christmas or for birthday parties, well you might not think the trade-off is worth it you might even envy me never even having a chance to deal with it", smiling "not that I won't try to survive, but that is for other reasons", considering namely to protect mom, find Katrina if possible and provide some solace to the families of the poor girls Billy killed, and any others I can.

    Seeing the monster's - no Amy's - hand on her arm she almost flinched again, but didn't she was more relaxed now that she had accepted things, she looked at the woman more carefully, and hoped she had not heard her words as they might be even more true for her, "Thank you", on impulse she hugged the other woman briefly, "for the attempt at least", she might need a hug too after the night and she would have to live in this world now.

    Hearing the big man speak, "no visions, but I was drugged at the time so I don't remember anything ... can't say that that is something I regret to be honest", shrugging "so likely a useless answer for your interest".

    Looking back to Claire, "I think I should go last, wouldn't want them making mistakes and killing you instead", she smiled but she was serious, the woman was seemingly decent and she didn't trust these wackos not to make a mistake like that and blame it on her.
    Last edited by dancrilis; 2012-07-23 at 02:33 PM.

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    Default Re: Deathknell Chronicles IC, Chapter 1: Eyes Open

    That's it, then. She got it. She's the important one in her trial, after all. This brightened his mood significantly. After all, his message had travelled well enough. For now. So, sexy-badass-voice on, macho smile gracing his features, newfangled fangs well-retracted and everything, he quickly made to respond as follows: "Nah, it's alright. And don't you worry; I walk in last, there's no way they's gonna mistake me for you, and I can keep an eye out in case they try... somethin' sneaky." Which they just might, way I see it. Too bad I'm better at it than them.
    Last edited by Worlok; 2012-07-23 at 02:40 PM. Reason: Stupid Sexy Arab!

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    Default Re: Deathknell Chronicles IC, Chapter 1: Eyes Open

    She looked at the man, "Sorry but no, it has been made very clear to me that these people" such as they are, "are big into their rules, if you break them you might not only put yourself in danger of offending someone, but put the group in that same danger of making an initial bad impression", shrugging "and it wouldn't help me one bit to go flaunting their system as an entrance", throwing an eye to Donovan "not sure of that counts as correcting a kindred, but well it will be over fast either way right", her voice an odd mixture of bitterness and humour at this last.
    Last edited by dancrilis; 2012-07-23 at 02:48 PM. Reason: tone

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