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  1. - Top - End - #91
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    OrcBarbarianGuy

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

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    New houserule. Usually I don't see the need to have the character's name bolded at the top of the post, but I think it's useful right now considering we're all in the same room, but not necessarily talking to each other. Therefore, I'll use it to help make it clear who's hearing what.


    Danielle

    Al shook her head. "It's all right. No one hates me who didn't already, and the book was trivial. It's not important." When Danielle mentions the loss, Al gets an insightful look on her face. "Brett was a good man, bit of a cavalier. You get used to death. Sadly our kind isn't very long lived most of the time, and recent years have seen more and more of us fall. You get used it. I'm sorry though Danielle, I'm not going to be the one to show you how things work. That's one of the concessions made to keep you alive. And yes Danielle, your heart may no longer beat, but you're still alive. If you'd excuse me." She left Danielle where she was standing, walking towards Erica and Iris.

    Erica

    The woman smiles back. "Iris of Clan Toreador. Just Iris."

    Al appraoched the table, catching the gist that introductions were being made. She looks tired. "Al Rowe, Clan Toreador, Sheriff." She extends her hair for a firm grip.

    Rick

    Quenton shakes his head. No, save that for tomorrow night. He's busy playing politics with the other elders. I know he may not look it, but he's the second oldest kindred in the city, only Jean's got him beat. That's an issue that arises for kindred. You can having newbies embraced in their elder years, and elders embraced as children. From what I've been told, most of the ancients, those kindred you never want to meet, the kind the Havensworth's too small to even bother, tend to be on the young side. Don't worry, I still confused sometimes."

    He shakes his head. "I wouldn't talk to him just yet. He's still a little annoyed I picked you. That, and the old ones live for these gatherings. Those of us who aren't over a century like to just hang out, catch up on things, and maybe slip away for a little midnight romance, right Melanie?" The Ventrue offered a shallow, forced smile to at least acknowledge the remark. "But the elders, they've been plotting to get an upper hand on one another since they first came to the city. Watch yourself cause they'll snatch you up in their games. Best just nod your head, say yessir, and then just laugh it off."

    Amy

    Mike motioned with his hands for Amy to calm. "Yeah, that was pretty bad. Let's wait 'til after the party to talk about it though. Hell, Jean might even talk to you about it himself. Let's keep the questions simple for now." Mike was starting to show a little strength again.
    Last edited by daelrog; 2012-07-27 at 02:10 AM.

  2. - Top - End - #92
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    Thundercracker's Avatar

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

    Erica
    She stood up and returned the handshake like so many others she'd done over her short career, firm but not vise-like.

    "Nice to meet you both," she replied.

    "I'll do my best to learn the ropes quickly Mr. Rowe, I just want to stay out of trouble," she said, swallowing and nodding her head towards Faruq, "Are there any minor rules or.. customs I should watch out for?"

    She glanced between the two Torreadors, addressing her question as much to Iris as much as the Sheriff.

    Keep it together, act normal, just a few smiles, a few meet and greets, then you're outta here and THEN you can lose your head. Crap, I have to call my boss tomorrow and tell him I can't work... will I even be awake in the morning, or do I need to sleep in a coffin? Crap! Just smile.. SMILE!
    Last edited by Thundercracker; 2012-07-27 at 02:52 AM.
    TC for short
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  3. - Top - End - #93
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    Default Re: Deathknell Chronicles IC, Chapter 1: Eyes Open

    Amy

    "Pretty bad. Understatement of the century, Mike." She shakes her head and passes an hand through her hair in what once was for her an automatic gesture...only to encounter the strange bumps and the bald patches of her new face. She grimaces. She had almost forgot. It's not a big deal she tells herself, firmly After everything I've seen tonight, a little hair-loss is the least of my problem. It's not like I was going to run for any pageant anyway.

    "I'll wait till after the... party for everything, then." By the way she says party, it's very clear what she thinks of it. "I don't think I have a single simple question." She may as well try to use the occasion at least talk with some of the other new kindreds. Danielle,for instance. Or check on Faruq, if it seems doable without doing any other damage to the poor guy. Actually, she remembers she has a simple question. It's become a lot more less important, after everything that happened, but Amy has always been a curious girl, so despite everything, she finds herself asking. "Except...who the hell are those idiots? The ones who were laughing,before.."
    Last edited by Strawberries; 2012-07-27 at 02:41 AM.

    "Tales and dreams are the shadow-truths that will endure when mere facts are dust and ashes, and forgot" - N.Gaiman, The Sandman

  4. - Top - End - #94
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    OrcBarbarianGuy

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    Erica

    "No, not really. Unless you start working with kindred who don't belong to the Camarilla, then it can become complicated. You're in good hands with Josef, eh'll be sure to let you know." Al turned to Iris. "I'll be leaving early tonight I think. I'd prefer to leave before Sean gets the idea to approach me. I'm simply not up for it now."

    "Of course, love." The two shared a kiss on the cheek. The way Iris said love was more of an expression, the way artists and other more expressive types used the word.

    Al made a beeline for the back door.

    Iris returned her look to Erica. "So you are the childer of Josef? No dobut you must be talented. I know he's looking to rebuild his company."

    Amy

    Mike grimaces. "The harpies. Every city has them. They're the kindred who generally rule Elysium, the neutral ground. They exist to praise and make fools of other kindred, and they can do it too."

    Slick chipped in. "Yeah, the Toreador in the city are split in two cliques. There's the "Iris Faction" with Al and... well Iris. Then there's the "Rose Faction" with Sean and his three harpies. You see, Sean has a tattoo under his left nipple. It's a rose and-"

    "Slick, we don't need to talk about Sean's tattoos. So yeah, that's the sum of it. Since we're really not supposed to kill each other, and it's really hard, most kindred settling their differences through proxies or with social conflict. The harpies happen to be the best with the latter."

  5. - Top - End - #95
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    Danielle

    Danielle nodded after Al as a goodbye, then looked around the room, regardless of the outcome of the trial she was still the lowest of the low as Donovan had said, considering them she looked around for them too and nodded to them in thanks if she saw them, she might not have followed the advise exactly but it seemed fair as given.

    Having done that she avoided eye contact with the others, no point in attracting unwanted attention whoever was to show her the ropes would likely find her, she proceeded over to the bodies to get a good look ... see if she knew them, and try to figure out if they were related, pausing on the walk only on consideration to nod to Amy and Claire in gratitude for the partial encouragement earlier.

    She studied the bodies for a while wondering who they were and who their families were ... her anger from earlier changing to sorrow at the situation.

    She turned to the seeming servants nearby, including the small child - who she ignored - making eye contact "Excuse me would there be a telephone I could use in private nearby please?".

  6. - Top - End - #96
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    Default Re: Deathknell Chronicles IC, Chapter 1: Eyes Open

    Erica
    Erica nods.
    "Potential unfulfilled is meaningless, so I guess we'll see how it goes," Erica replies. She glances around the room, purposefully avoiding the hanging corpses.
    "Even with everything that's happened, it's still kind of hard to believe... I keep expecting to wake up drenched in sweat..." she says, "Err, wait, you don't have to answer if you don't want to, but how long ago was your... first presentation?"
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  7. - Top - End - #97
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    OrcBarbarianGuy

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    Danielle

    The servant, yet another plain faced man with a shaved head nodded. It seemed like he either couldn't talk, or had strict orders not to. He led her out of the room, and through the hall to another, small room.

    There was bed, a small table, and a phone in it. He gestured towards the phone, and departed.

    Erica

    Iris rolled her eyes. "It took forver. I was embraced in Toulese, France. The Prince there was an old one, thought everythign had to be a certain way. I had to recite the traditions word for word... in Latin. Then I had to show him my talent in five styles of art. Unlike you, it was just me." She smiled. It was beautiful save for the sharpness of her fangs. They weren't extended, but it was still noticeable. "But that was over fifty years ago." She looked around. "I don't think this gathering will last long. Tensions are high, and I think most kindred are going to do some serious thinking before they act. Think about what they'll do with six new kindred."
    Last edited by daelrog; 2012-07-27 at 03:42 AM.

  8. - Top - End - #98
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    Default Re: Deathknell Chronicles IC, Chapter 1: Eyes Open

    Amy

    Sean. "Sean, that ugly-as-sin lard-bladder that was at the table before? The one that was looking at Al Rowe like he had some sort of fun secret? No, we definitely don't need to talk about Sean's tattoos". But she finds herself warming to Slick and his blabbering. It's comforting, in a way. She realises what she has just said and amends "And that's coming from me, now, so when I say ugly-as-sin, I know what I'm talking about." Hell, Mike is cuter. Slick is cuter, too, probably, in a way...not that she remembers Slick's true face very well. She was too occupied to do her best not to scream, or faint, or both togheter. Which reminds her. "Uhm, Slick, can I ask you a personal question?"
    Last edited by Strawberries; 2012-07-27 at 03:57 AM.

    "Tales and dreams are the shadow-truths that will endure when mere facts are dust and ashes, and forgot" - N.Gaiman, The Sandman

  9. - Top - End - #99
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    Default Re: Deathknell Chronicles IC, Chapter 1: Eyes Open

    Erica
    Erica smiled.

    Fifty years, that means it was before World War II.

    "Yeah, it's been a really long day, and night," she said, taking the hint, "hopefully we'll meet again soon."

    Long day? More like last day. You will never see the sun again.

    Erica smiled, then looked around for Josef Kirsch.

    I've got to get out of here.
    Last edited by Thundercracker; 2012-07-27 at 04:27 AM.
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  10. - Top - End - #100
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    "Thank you" she called after the servant, ok it's a phone call, I can do this, she played the scenario over in her head, hi mom, ..., she found she had nothing to say, pick it up and wing it, that might be best she determined as she reached for the phone unless I blurt out something stupid and get her killed her hand froze at the thought.

    Speaking out load to the empty room slipping to French as she did normally speak to her mother, "Hi ... no I'm fine, sorry I got invited to a party ... yes I get invited to parties at times ... yes I have some friends ... yes with they are involved in missing person issues ... yes they are older ... don't worry so much ... listen I have got to go ... love you too" returning to English "yes that will work if she asks exactly the right questions without me having to lie once" she muttered.

    Picking up the phone she dialled her number while checking the time, on anything available ... I should have brought my watch she thought bitterly please don't have panicked and called the police mom, please.

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    Rick

    Rick raises an eyebrow. "Annoyed you picked me? Was he hoping for another?" He studies the child briefly. Seeing him interact with the others, it was not hard to believe he was so ancient.

    Imagine being forced into this as a kid. Seems to have done well for himself though.

  12. - Top - End - #102
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    I could go on now to detail exactly what went through Faruq's head, yet to fill sixteen lines or more with the most devastating Arabic insults and curses on this good Earth would hardly be cool at all. What I can, however, put down for the record is that he was not, in fact, amused.

    How is that... Oh, goddamnit, Goblin. You really don't care just how stupid you look, now, do you? he thought as Flat-Face barreled down on him, there apparently being no chance to leap to the side, dodge, run, anything.

    And you, with your whack-ass knife, you are no real threat! he thought as the big Nosferatu got him, lifting him up, somehow securing him enough to cut the tongue, forcing his mouth open and inserting his blade.

    And that's just physically impossible, you'd need like four arms to do all of that simultaneously! he thought as the steel slipped in, tearing dead flesh and muscle and drawing blood.

    And also, you goddamn jackasses really don't have no idea about ensuring loyalty. he thought as that very same blood began to fill his mouth, his lips having defiantly closed shut around the steel to show as little cooperation as possible.

    And how am I even still feeling pain? I'm friggin' dead right now. he thought, as the pain grew to harsh for thinking, and still he found he could suffer both. The Old Goblin was talking again, ranting. Had called him a clown.

    On the other hand, I can also still produce spittle, so there is that. He had, in fact, spit on the carpet, hadn't he? Yes he had. And he had some degree of mastery over aiming that. His mouth was watering, bloodied still, and something about that appealed to him.

    I know like exactly one worda French, and that's sans-cu-lotte. Without pants. For the briefest of instants, he figured he might as well try to wrestle a hand free, open his fly, and die with his manhood firmly in hand like a dearly defiant boss. Defiance. Boss-like defiance to the last.

    But this is mainly the pain talking, isn't it? I don't need air anymore, do I, now? Still, he wanted to breathe, catch his airs, still his very essence fought the circumstances for control. Yet breathing meant - RAH! And there went his tongue, the nerves now severed and the piece coming lose as a whole.

    It means swallowing first, cleaning the mouth. Fingers, horrible, vaguely claw-like goblin fingers slipped in between his yielding lips, claiming their prey as he raved and bled. He swallowed, then. Swallowed vampire blood. So I better swallow, they're cutting my tongue out. I won't bleed to death. I just won't be able to talk. A mouthful of it, the well-clutched tongue sliding out from between his teeth in the hand of Flat-Face and thus not subject to his aching gulp, went down, down his throat, down his whole, vampiric digestive tract.

    And it... tastes... so... good? Yes. Yes, it did taste good. Better than blood that was willingly given. Better, he reckoned, then even blood of Celts would have. It was his own blood, though. Lion-blooded. And Afghan-blooded. And blood of the Ferret and Scot.

    Yet other than that of chill people, this did not seem to sate his hunger, and still he desired more.

    Uncle Ahmad was there. He was watching. And he was him, Faruq. The words of the Prince still registering, this thought suddenly, and monolithically, took a hold, along with a whole mass of scenes and settings, imagined acts he now regretted not pulling off in time.

    Paralysed with fear, again. Once again seeing things from blood-loss. That would be it.

    There he was, Faruq al-Assad, dodging aside and letting Flat-Face flatten his face some more against the wall behind him.

    Anger.

    Then there he was, Faruq al-Assad, calmly, but swiftly, whirling around, bringing his elbow into the goblin's neck - no, back, the guy was taller.

    And vengeance.

    And then there was he, Faruq al-Assad, glaring at the vampiric assembly with murder in his eyes, seeing them back away from him, now in abject terror, deeply afraid of him.

    And justice.

    Teeth in a goblin neck, drawing its life-blood, unholy though an act it would appear to be.

    And wrath.

    Blood rushing down his throath, strengthening him unnourishedly, back in reality, in a goblin's arms.

    Disjointed scenes of battle, of fights by night, of strange buildings burning and faces contorted in rage and pain flared up before his mind then, tried to yank him away, away from this reality of losing into blessed and defensive fantasy. Impressions, ideas, notions and thoughts connecting, begetting perverse and fantastic types of sense. Chants and prayers and curses and cries in all manner of languages, tongues...

    Ahmad al-Assad standing triumphant over a somewhat younger, now somehow plate-armored Josef Kirsch, predators locking gazes, his uncle moving with breath-taking grace and speed, and in perfect silence, to bring his curved blade down upon the German's face...

    And tongues. Tongues and teeth littering the ground, and decorating the belts of the bold and victorioius.

    Melanie Forrest, suspended in chains, somewhere far away beyond space and time, locked alone in a basement with him, teeth bared and rotting. Sans-cu-lotting. Coming closer, anger, anger and vengeance begetting lust. And gaping windows, roaring lions, flying suitcases piled all around.

    Tongues. Worthless flesh, with it speech and clamor, leaving a million forced-open mouths, millions of Flat-Faces, Jean du Noirs, and other goblins fleeing in herds, in masses, and rushing into sewers as Arabic vampires looking a lot like him gave chase.

    A line of people on camels, only the one in the middle wearing a cape, turning around, looking at him and like him and forward again in one fluent move, bearing a lance and shield. And in the distance, a line of men that looked a lot like Flockton, and then all alike, wearing black hats and red coats and leveling muskets at the advancing camel-riders.

    Tongue was taken. There were only pain and blood to Faruq for a second, vampire blood, and a mortal pain. The plethora of images would not subside, however, appearing the very same instant they faded out again. All of this happening so fast, so decisively, without choice. Him drinking vampire blood.

    Flags of Britain, of France, of America burning. Bearded men in blue robes with machine guns cheering and feeding the flames.

    It regrows. The Old Goblin had said his tongue would regrow, and as the pain finally seemed to be dying, a short and disgusting scene played out before the Ferret's inner eye: Him regrowing his tongue, over and over, for Flat-Face to cut it out, but once to just swallow it with the blood, in order to prove his toughness, and then to just spit it out, for the dead meat to fly into Flat-Face' ear as the goblin turned, smiling for his picture.

    Underage girls without a clan, and his new clanmate Erica Lee, lined up in a parade of asses, next to them herds of camels, and he, Faruq, walking among them, dressed like a king.

    A camera. Thousands of scenes rushing past him, faces and battles and monsters and camels and flags, and tongues, and all of them so very fleeting. The camera would immortalise. Would immortalise this here picture. Should he perhaps just spit? He still produced saliva. He could just spit, aim for Flat-Face' ear, make the guy cut a grimace and drop his cool, and die content that he'd given just about as many...

    Churches and towers and citadels burning and crumbling, something of moving shadows and something of sapient blood circling what would appear to be a man with claws and bright, yellow eyes, sires and childer and mortals and fat men all dying in thrashing droves.

    No. He would not give them the satisfaction. He had his pride. Not a monkey or dog or camel, but still a lion, as he had said. He was Faruq. Faruq ibn Khaled ibn Mohammed al-Assad. He Who Discerns Truth from Falsehood, son of the All-Enduring, son of the Praiseworthy One of the Blood of the Lion. And mad. Mad like Ahmad al-Assad. Perhaps this just was it, though? His sanity taking its leave, having lasted til here and through all this madness, only to now keel over and allowing depravity to envelop him, carry him off into sleep, so that he would wake up tomorrow and find it all a bad dream? Perhaps. Yet he could not rely on it, and at any rate, the pain had gone. It had allowed for the final distraction. Defiance. You won't crack me that easy, oh no you won't.

    And a statue in grey future Edinburgh, office-workers with tusks and then he, himself, smiling and wearing a coat and lifting a suitcase over his head.

    It thus came to be that two vampires smiled for their picture, Faruq, still imagining trippy scenes and his impending vengeance, eyeing Flat-Face' ear with barely-conceiled hunger, hunger, wrath, and rage, and grinning, widely and nastily, to match the Flat-Faced One's visage. Ready 'n' waitin'. Grappling now. Could just reach up and tear it off. And his fangs came down, and he somehow enjoyed having asked for that refill, and something inside him kept screaming Divide the herd!...

    But no! Too obvious, too sudden. Not enough of a chance. This is a lesson. You promised yourself you'd play along. You can do this, buddy. Magic bullets. Four of them. No rationally explaining. They've made themselves clear, and so should you.

    ... if only for the next instant to find the pain gone, vanquished, Faruq being left out of Flat-Face' lock, catching his attitude on the rebound and shakily rising, somehow assured in a sense of accomplishment. Blood is shed. He swallowed again, spitting his remnant saliva out onto the floor. Then they won't kill the clan-less. Perhaps I won again? No. This was not his triumph. He had just been a distraction. The trial had unfolded without him, and gone on, and somewhere, a servant took the damn goblin's knife, and that seemed to be the end of the official part of the evening.

    Time to regrow my tongue, I guess. He said that would be ill-advised. Old wanker. See what I think of you. I need a smoke, and a cape, and some damn respect.

    And with that, Faruq finally found himself standing. Looking around. Registering people looking at him, some worried, some almost sympathetic. The clanless one on the phone. People mingling. Confounded, confuddled, confused, alone. He'd picked his battles, he'd picked a fight, yet he had not won. But he had drawn even. He was alive. For now.

    Now to secure me a drink, and find out what that nonsense there with the hanging corpses is all about, and then to dust off, become one of them, and take in my glory.

    Thusly aware of his still unbroken kind-of-aliveness, he tried to bring his left hand up to the level of his chest, seeing how Flatty wasn't looking at him currently, throwing the victory sign as he did so, carefully, but enjoying the fact that it had also meant "Screw you!" since Britons first, at heaven's command...

    Oh holy crap, I'm probably messed up worse than I thought I was. Still, I'm still holding up, and fine.

    And at long last, now speechless, Faruq truly bowed to Jean. Dusted himself off. And made as if to approach a servant, and maybe to step out in order to simply regrow his tongue. And wink at Claire, Erica, Danielle, and the goblin one, and any other (supposed) girls in attendance the entire way, smirking and leering in the obnoxious, dulled-to-pain exhilaration of his battered, beaten after-battle calm. Could he do sign-language? He would find out. For now, he'd just play it cool. Not let it get to him.

    Still though. I haven't lost. Still not impressed? Too bad.

    And learn to play along.

    Spoiler
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    I proudly present "Being the spawn of an Assamite ghoul family" feat. "Why won't the kid just frenzy?" with their number-one-hit: "Rampaging insanity". Apologies for it's disjointedness, other than Faruq himself, I had opportunity to get fully... in-character tonight.
    Last edited by Worlok; 2012-07-27 at 04:38 PM. Reason: Chill people. Last!

  13. - Top - End - #103
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    Default Re: Deathknell Chronicles IC, Chapter 1: Eyes Open

    Claire let out a sigh as the by evidence the serious events of the evening were done. Could they leave yet? Rogan seemed wrapped up with his fellow elders, so evidently not. She supposed she should make some attempt to socialize. If before had demanded silence, now keeping to herself could be just as bad. She could be seeing those in this room for a long long time.

    Claire rose to make her way around the room. She avoided Faruq and Danielle. She had no wish to give that idiot the time of day, and speaking to the teen would perhaps be inappropriate at the moment given Rogan's role in events. She did need to find out more about that hunter though. Perhaps one of the other vampires in the room would be discussing it.

    Or maybe she should speak some others of her presumable peers. At least some of her fellow fledglings seemed to have something resembling good sense, she hadn't spoken much to any of them but that would work too. She should speak with Erica at some point about her sire, something was pulling at her mind about Josef Kirsch.

  14. - Top - End - #104
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    Amy

    Mike and Slick laughed with Amy in describing Sean. Slick shuffled a bit nerously in his chair when Amy asked him about a question she had. "Uh... sure, sure ask anything?"

    Mike's attention moved to the room, his eyes taking note of who wasm ingling with who.

    Erica and Claire

    Josef was speaking amiably with Hayden Cross, the Brujah primogen. To an outsider, it looked like a handsome middle aged man flirting with a younger, attractie woman. A bit closer and it was two intellectuals testing each other's wits. And even closer...

    Claire saw Rogan speaking to the Prince, he was not pleased with Jean's ruling, and Jean appeared to be explaining himself, though was not giing any ground to the Gangrel that towered over him.

    As Erica approached Josef, she saw Claire standing in between her, and her sire.

    Faruq

    A servant nodded when Faruq asked for some blood. It took less than half a minute for him to return, this time with a larger glass. No doubt it took mroe than a little to regrow a tongue. No one impeded upon Faruq, but he saw that reactions were mixed. None were truly possible, but a few seemed curious.

    Faruq could see the Byron was keeping a close eye on Faruq. Most likely the follower had been tasked to do so.

    Rick

    "You were number four, remember? I'm afraid to say that wasn't my number system, it was his." He gave a reassuring pat on Rick's shoulder. "As I said, he'll get over it before tomorrow night" He looked oer mischievously at Trent. "So Trent buddy, not that Brett's out of the way, you going to be Al's new fling?"

    Trent muttered a few choice words and moved away from them. Quenton smiled and looked back to Rick. "No sense of humor, that one."

    Danielle

    Danielle's mother answered the phone. "Hello? Oh Danielle. How's the sleep over going?"
    Last edited by daelrog; 2012-07-30 at 08:25 PM.

  15. - Top - End - #105
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    Default Re: Deathknell Chronicles IC, Chapter 1: Eyes Open

    Erica
    She spied Josef speaking with the woman from the end of the table. Not wanting to immediately interrupt, Erica thought she would circle around a bit and see if she could catch Josef's eye, but then she noticed the quiet girl, Claire, also watching the same conversation. Erica stood indecisive for a few seconds, then moved next to Claire, standing side by side and giving her a sidelong glance and a small smile before turning her attention back to the two members of the primogen to at least attempt to hear what they were speaking about. After all, if they wanted to speak privately, this was not the place to do it, right?
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    Default Re: Deathknell Chronicles IC, Chapter 1: Eyes Open

    Amy


    Right. She gestures vaguely towards Slick's face "Uhm... why are you... you know, looking like this, now? It's not like you have to protect the Masquerade here."And it's not like you protected the masquerade when you had to, but she doesn't say the last part out loud. She doesn't know the circumstances in which that reporter was in the house. For all she knows, Slick may have had a good reason to be without his mask, and telling him may just mean be unfair towards him.

    "Tales and dreams are the shadow-truths that will endure when mere facts are dust and ashes, and forgot" - N.Gaiman, The Sandman

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    Erica and Claire

    Josef and Hayden were discussing the pace of mankind's progress. Josef mused, "Come now. Nothing is perpetual. Mankind will slow down in another ten to thirty years, their vaunted communication technology reaching its limit. I daresay we'll be short a few elders before the end of it though.

    "Yes, no doubt as to that. But consider, there have been breakthroughs that have... had an unusual amount of apathy. It's as if there's even ore behind the curtain."

    "There is always more behind the curtain. However, try not guess what it is too readily."

    Amy

    "Oh, that's it? Well, mostly cause I'm a little less unpleasant on the eyes this way. Don't get me wrong, most the time it's not worth the effort. However, most kindred care about appearances even more than the kine. First of all, looking healthy and beautiful makes hunting easier. Secondly... well our libido isn't really what it used to be, but our eyes still work the same. It's a courtesy, really."
    Last edited by daelrog; 2012-07-31 at 12:09 AM.

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

    Sleepover?, what sleepover?, the thought, catching herself before saying it, was her mother just making an assumption as to why she wasn't there, or had she actually made plans that she had forgotten about, or ... ?

    Still it made a good excuse, so might as well run with it.

    "Did ... did I mention the sleepover?", her tone somewhat confused and shaky.
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    'Erica and Danielle' should be 'Erica and Claire' right?

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

    Still so many thoughts, all over, and yet none of them seemed to be the one he had just been thinking.

    Dang, mang, I hate dat happenin', ken? Like, one moment you's like mad rockin' sum genius up in yers, and den it's poof, like, gone. Anyhow. Did I jus' imagine myself sexing up ol' Melly? About to, at any rate? He had, and thusly shuddered - if but for the briefest of moments before regaining composure, of course. And what was it that gave her this odd prevalence in his thought processes, come to think of it? Even now? There were many things he'd yet have to find out about this new game before making his move and crushing the masters. My masters, something, a fragment of conversation, hard to place now for the sheer number of things that had occured in the mean, seemed to remind him now.

    Ah, shut up, fake Maddie-man. You's jus' not real. I got my tongue cut out, an' still noone's the master of Faruq.

    What a refreshing notion. He had endured again. Not won, as such, but endured, and as this turned out to have been the thought he'd been following just before, he came to enjoy the idea a little more: The mixed reactions, quizzical looks, general uncertain nature of the airs this gathering was suddenly projecting registered as attention to the Afghan-blooded Scot. And any attention was good attention. His sexy, sexy smile having its effect somewhat hampered by crusts of vampire blood surrounding and the known lack of flesh behind it, he nonetheless made to shower his audience in as much swag as possible - For, after all: I took -that- standin' up 'n' like a man, dere's finally some damn respect in here. Now we's talkin', see? All I was askin' for. Even if Byron staring at him all scary-like seemed to bode ill - Chill, like, not like a dude what's after a chick like he is would swing that way. - and the very presence of the guy seemed to just raise some guessing as to his identity - Like, Schmitty-boy a vampire, as well? - there had been more than just enough trouble for but one evening, he reckoned, anger spent and all.

    Really, though: All things considered, Faruq was at ease with his lot in death by now: Vampire blood is fine. Or prolly my own? Like, some metaphysophical stuff 'bout how blood shed for what I stand up for is always, ad-hoc, given willin'ly? ... Quack. Mus' be the rush come chillin', I'm still seein' things - Still, gotta check dis out right soon. Wa'n't really all dat fillin', anyway. I wonder... Will smokes still relax me? I could use a bout a' steppin' out right now.

    Funny. He had actually wanted a smoke to abridge a fifteen-minute-wait, and likely not too far a while ago. Now it had been a day and a night - or more, he guessed (Wait. I don't actually know how long I've been out.) and he found himself feeling the itch in a more metaphorical fashion, as if the initial hardship would not end with tongues being removed, or people being tortured, but with him finally lighting up, and if it would but be for auld lang syne.

    I should definitely get that done. As the servant, having responded to his gesturing, returned with what amounted to a nice big fill, the Ferret responded by nodding his thanks, accepting the glass with a sweeping gesture, and casually, if greedily, emptying its contents into his mouth. How much it'll take me for the tongue, though? Way this works, it's all sorta in the blood. Speaking off... He waited, savoring the taste of the red liquid like he guessed he normally would have a self-made White Russian.

    Nothing happened.

    ...Sure. No tongue, no taste-things, guess dat much still works.

    With the hope that it would not be the kind of blood he had initially made clear he wouldn't take, he swallowed, half-expecting some sort of nasty surprise, and mentally steeling himself, much as earlier for pain and ridicule - With his most pressing sensation since his embrace having been his almighty rage, he put all possible effort into remaining calm, seeming relaxed, staying ineffable. It was how he had managed to rein himself in even when half-about to make a leap for Flat-Face' ear. By this point, he wasn't actually sure how to feel anymore. The high of accomplishment, the one of the pain wearing off, the one of having established himself, the one of not having pulled stupid moves - All of those seemed to be combining, and hitting in force.

    He would learn. Listen, watch, calm, adapt, and rise. But for now, he would not puke, he would stop shaking, and he'd try to make like he had learned his lesson. Yes, he would.

    No, actually.

    He had. If maybe not the one they would have wanted him to learn...

    So many thoughts, still, all over.

    He swallowed blood.
    Last edited by Worlok; 2012-07-30 at 11:39 PM.

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

    "You mean, he was the one who was supposed to ultimately make the decision of whom to sire?" Rick cats another look at Henry. "I hope I haven't put you into to awkward a situation." He scratches the back of his head,feeling a new degree of gratitude towards Quenton. If nothing else, the man had stuck his neck out for him.

    He noted Quenton's attitude towards Trent, but says nothing in response. It's not his place. However, he does note that Quenton seemed to be the type to enjoy antagonizing others.

    "If you excuse me, I'm going to see what Chase is up to." He rises and heads off to locate her.

    "So, this has been an interesting night. Though I wager it's become second nature to you by now." He says as he approaches.

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

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    Faruq has enough blood to regrow his tongue (I imagine it will be very, very uncomfortable, but it doesn't hae any bones or anything so it shouldn't really be painful. At least, my logic on regrowing body parts dictate as such), and to replenish whatever he lost. Or he can have no tongue still and add one more to his blood pool.

    And I will correct the heading above. Also dancrilis, if you want we can assume they're speaking French. I do not know French, and forum rules say to stick with English, so yeah.


    Danielle

    "Yes?" Her mother noted Danielle's tone. "You called me half an hour ago. I was worried sick. Is something wrong?"

    Rick

    Rick shrugged his shoulders. "To be kindred is to be uncomfortable. You get used to it."

    Chase had been talking to a handsome, yet very polished young man, who now focused on Faruq. Chase didn't seem to want to chat to either the girl or the man wearing aviators. She smiled genuinely as Rick approached. "Welcome to the ghoul corner, Rick." She shakes her head at his comment. "No, some things you don't get used to. You learn to live with it." She smiles again. "Well, some of us lie with it. That's one thing i learned about the English language. It really does have an emphasis on life and a works-by-day, sleeps-by-night schedule."

  22. - Top - End - #112
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    Rick

    "Good to see you." Rick replies, remaining standing.

    "I can see how you never get used to it. I'm not sure I'll ever get used to seeing a guy's tongue get cut out. The Kindred take their meetings very seriously. Though I suppose when one can grow their tongue back, it's not as severe a punishment as it would be to humans."

    "In any case, I wanted to check in with you. Sorry about snapping at you earlier tonight. Things were fairly stressful, to say the least. But you and Quenton seem like pretty good folks. Looking around, I suspect I could have done worse." He smiled, though his tone indicated he was at least being partly serious.
    Last edited by Dark Seeker; 2012-07-31 at 12:49 AM.

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    Yea we can pretend it is French, I don't speak any of the languages I gave her (baring English), and google translate would just be annoying - even if we could use it on the forum.


    Half an hour? before the trial but likely after getting to the building, had she still been human she would have been in a cold sweat, she had not mentioned her mother and only listed her surname to the prince recently. Al had not apparently known who she was and Billy was dead ... who had called?

    Ok how to handle this "No mom, I am ... ok. Just wanted to be sure you were not worried, can you fill me in on the call we had" ... she had to assume that the call was rushed ... "bit rushed the last time, but don't want to be repeating myself" her voice light and easy, but her body was tensed like a coil, her left hand in a fist placed firmly on the table beside the phone as she stood holding the handle in her right as she spoke.

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    Amy

    "Oh, I see. Thank you for answering" So apparently it's not that big a deal for Slick. Mike had made it sound as if it was. Amy can't say she agrees with Slick's assessment, but she can sort of see the logic. She smiles to him, then follows Mike's example, moving her eyes across the room to see who's speaking with who.

    She notices Faruq has been left alone, but he is standing, and drinking blood, so perhaps it wasn't so bad as if he had been merely human. "I suppose the point of all this is for us to go around and speak with the other... clans, right? I should probably do that". She has half a mind of standing up and go introducing herself to the laughing jackals from before. Bullies are best confronted as soon as possible and face-to-face. At least, that's what she learned in highschool. "Uhm... Who is the child with the doll? And what's the deal with the staring guy?" There's one thing she has to hand to vampires: they know how to pull off 'creepy' well enough.

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    Could I please have a description of where everyone in the room is standing and who is talking to whom? I lost myself a bit in the previous post and some kindreds aren't mentioned. Also, as usual, she'll put that high perception of hers to use
    Last edited by Strawberries; 2012-07-31 at 08:27 AM. Reason: typo!

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

    Erica
    Erica opened her mouth to speak, and was about to take a step forward when she checked herself. It wouldn't be good to contradict her new boss in front of outsiders, regardless of how wrong she thought he might be. Such words were better spoken in private; for all she knew, Josef might be seeding misinformation.

    She settled for getting a good look at the Brujah primogen, and if eye contact is made, Erica will introduce herself, otherwise she will stay silent and let the elders speak.
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    Bah! Now I have to figure out where NPCs have gone. Very well...


    All
    There seems to be several groups that have formed. At the head table Rogan is still debating with the Prince. At the end Cassidy is fiddling with a crumpled piece of paper. It's white with red stains on it.

    Josef and Hayden are discussing something in depth, each holding their glasses as if it was wine. One of the harpies, the man is hovering near them, but is intent to blabber away at a servant who is not speaking back.

    Quenton and Melanie are chatting at their table, joined by the short haired harpy.

    Sean and his last harpy are with Henry, the boy-Primogen. Sean is smiling and doing most of the talking as Henry is walking.

    Trent is with Iris, but neither are talking much.

    Al has left the party already. Flat Face left the room, following Danielle. Donovon disappeared, Amy, nor anyone else noticed when or in what direction.

    The four ghouls, the little girl, aging man who appeared as a grifter, the south-Asian young woman, and the slick looking man in a suit and tie are in the back.

    Erica
    Hayden seems to be paying no heed to Erica, though it is almost certain that Erica's presence has been felt. It's been less than half a minute, but still no immediate reaction is a bit less than polite.

    Danielle
    "Danielle, is everything all right? We talked for five minutes. You're at Dianne's house. I didn't know the two of you trained together." Dianne Gurwitz was a teammate of Danielle's on the junior varsity squad and a Sophomore.

    It was then Danielle noticed Flat Face leaning against the door. He had a pair of tweazers, cleaning the blood from under his fingernails. It was clear the monster had no interest in interrupting Danielle's conversation.

    Rick
    Chase smiled back, raishing again, though this one more humble, which seemed to glow all the mroe because of it. "No worries, Rick. Most kindred try to avoid Harry. He has a deal with the kindred. He helps coer our tracks sometimes, and we sometimes help make his life a bit easier. He likes to push to envelope sometimes... all the time." She looked over to Faruq. "Not sure what to say about the guy over there. Not eeryone handles the embrace well. Truth be told, those might be the sane ones. I'd give him some space and time to cool down. If he doesn't, Cassidy will find him. Whatever you do Rick, avoid Cassidy, and avoid those two." She gestured to the two ghouls who were not Byron.

    Amy
    Slick looked frightened and Mike ill at ease. "Best stay away from Cassidy, Evaz. They meant it when they said his job was to cull the herd when needs be. Each clan has their curse, well except for the Tremere, but that's up for the debate. Rogan's eyes, our appearance are the obvious ones. Throw up a true work of art in front of one of the Toreador and they'll stop in their tracks in a dead stupor. Cassidy's clan? Each one of them to the last is insane. Schizophrenia, obsessive compulsive, anything, you name it. There's more than a few screws missing in that one.

    "That little girl and the guy, the one with the sunglasses? Those two are his ghouls. A ghoul is a person who drinks the blood of a kindred at least once or twice a month. They get some of the perks, but not all. However, they're still alive. Best servants a kindred can get. That little girl is older than you I think. Cassidy didn't come to the city until ten years ago, but the girl was with him."

  27. - Top - End - #117
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    Erica
    If Josef Kirsch deemed his conversation more important than introducing her, then so be it. Erica was well aware she once again found herself at the bottom of the totem pole and might not receive immediate attention from her superiors. The situation was not unlike her early career in an industry dominated by white men. She quickly fell back to her instincts, continuing to passively follow the conversation between her sire and Hayden, and, remembering Donovan's advice, scanned the room and the disparate groups. She attempted to distract herself from the trembling feeling in her chest by guessing what was going on..

    Hayden Cross looks like one of the most well put-together people..Kindred here, and she sounds like she knows about current trends in technology; too bad she's disagreeing with Kirsch right at this moment.

    She chanced a glance over her shoulder.

    Rogan thought it was a sure thing, but he lost... he's appealing after the fact, trying to work over the judges..I mean Jean (it's not debate team Erica!) so he'll favor him next time around.

    Melanie seems pretty popular..should I go talk to her? No, there'll be plenty of time for that later..I'll have to ask her about those two as well.

    Iris is still here, thought she wanted to leave..maybe she just wanted to get rid of me..then again maybe she's just being polite., not saying too much, probably bored.

    Rick looks like he's getting some pointers, good for him.

    The boy seems serious, and he's at the head table..probably a lot tougher than he looks..he's practically ignoring Loveless...is he even listening at all? ...wonder if he got the gold teeth before or after..., looks like an Oreo from Harlem, I swear I will never-
    Damn, don't look at the bodies!

    Erica shuddered as she caught sight of the corpses, then quickly smiled at Byron before shifting her gaze again and realized she'd run out of groups to observe. Deciding to be slightly more proactive, she moved to Kirsh's flank, standing slightly behind her sire so as not to intrude on the conversation directly, and looked for Faruq.
    If anyone can distract me...

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    assuming sean loveless is caucasian, let me know if that's not the case?
    Last edited by Thundercracker; 2012-07-31 at 08:28 AM.
    TC for short
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    Default Re: Deathknell Chronicles IC, Chapter 1: Eyes Open

    Amy

    "What, really? That's messed up." No, this is the understatement of the century she thinks as soon as she has said the words. And she's not even sure if she meant the madness business, the little girl business or the whole ghoul business. All of the above, if she really has to choose. "And I've got no intention to go bothering him, he gives me the creeps." And yet another understatement. I'm picking up bad habits from Mike, apparently.

    She sighs, and stands up "Erm... if I'm supposed to mingle and save the questions for after the party, I guess I'd better go, right? Is any of you coming?" Some things don't ever change, not even after one's dead. Mingling, making small talk, introducing herself... that's a part she hates.

    "Tales and dreams are the shadow-truths that will endure when mere facts are dust and ashes, and forgot" - N.Gaiman, The Sandman

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

    "Yeah, well can't say I'm too fond of Harry." Rick replied bitterly. "We used to work together on the force. I know his type. Bit overzealous and obsessed with lording his power over everybody else. Still, apparently he gets the job done, since I had no inkling any of this existed until a few hours ago.'

    He nods at Chase's advice. To be honest, Cassidy unsettled him, and evidently he was far from isolated in those feelings. Man looked as though he could go berserk at any second.

    Clearing his throat(a habit he keeps now even in death) Rick changed the subject. "So... think you'll ever become like us? Or is that forbidden or something?'

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

    Five minutes, someone fooled my mother for five minutes and knew enough about my life to make up a convincing story, she would have swallowed but her mouth was dry, "No mom, I am alright just had a rough night and am a bit shook up" who was it Al, Iris someone else ... Billy knew who she was ... he could have set something up ... or maybe he had survived somehow, "listen mom I have got some stuff to take care of, sorry I worried you, I might not be home for a bit ... maybe a few days ... I have life choices to make type of stuff, I will tell you about it when I can" her voice was near breaking she couldn't help it ... "I love you mom, be safe", she wanted to wait to hear a reply to put her mother at ease but she couldn't and seeing the monster at the door, she simply hung up.

    She switched to English and looked at the creature - no the man - it was not his fault, "Can you tell me who phoned my mother half an hour ago please?", despite the words her tone was emotionless and hollow.

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