[IC] A Long Night on the Bay

[lord pringle]

Running. All he could think about was running. He was supposed to be above this. Too powerful. Too wise. Too old. But it turns out one bad day can throw that all away. He was hemorrhaging vitae. No. Had to run. Get somewhere safe. Torpor. Heal. He tripped. His missing left kneecap was not helping his balance.
He tried to stand up, only for his pursuer's blade to cut through his shoulder like a fork into rare steak. That's what he was now. Meat. He used the last of his vitae, his essence, his willpower, his anything to get his leg back into working shape.
He did the best he could and took off running, the blade sliding out of his back. He was on the street now. So close to a store, so close to safety in the kine so close to-
URK
The blade was thrown through his heart, spilling his lifeblood.

~~~~~

Both of the Mekhets in the store feel flashes of pain in their chest, see glimpses of a strange anti-septic surgery hall with a group of pencils arranged methodically, and then a strange taste dances across your tongue. Like blood and something almond-y.
Someone screams outside, followed by a chorus of gasps. The people outside begin murmuring a chorus of "Oh my god"s and "Who could have done such a thing"s as well as various swear words. The sad pimply student manning both the cash register and his iPhone looks up and puts a closed sign down. He walks outside to see the commotion and vomits when he sees it.

~~~~~
What will you do?

Spoiler: If your character walks out to see what's going on, open this tag

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A crowd is gathered around the corpse of a rapidly decaying elder kindred in an alley. A cutlass is embedded into his gut. The body is laying on a blue tarp only anchored by the weight of the body. His face, though rotting as you look at it, is easily recognizable from various council pamphlets. The missing Marcus Malone of North Beach. As your vision tracks upwards, you see a red "VII" painted above him.
If you want to look closer, roll Wits + Investigate. But that will involve the crowd seeing you do so.

[Lentrax]

What a night.

Midori didn't have an agenda for the night. Just flowed with the town. From one place to another. Into a club, into another. Out to a dive bar. And for the last hour, Modified had been following this guy who had something of a early years Robert Downey Jr vibe about him. And then he went into a bookstore.

Well, so much for being a partier.

Guess I'll have to find something better to do...

Then someone screams. Not uncommon, really, though a crowded place really isn't the place for it.

Going outside, Midori steps carefully around the fresh vomit on the ground to see the rapidly decaying body. She look around, gawking like a tourist. She sees the paint on the wall, but graffiti isn't her thing. Hells, she is still trying to figure out the Cacophony.

Stepping away from the body and the crowd, Midori pulls out a cheap cell phone. She hits a couple of buttons, preparing to call her higher ups. They should know that the missing elder has been found, and has in fact embraced Final Death.

[OracleofSilence]

Oh lord that's ****ing disgusting. Michel walks out from the books store, enjoying the pleasant shift in temperature to overheated to slightly too cold as he does so, keeping an appropriately horrified look on his face as he does so. Hmm. So thats what final death looks like. Seems unpleasant.

Michel pulls a smartphone from his pocket, snapping a few pictures, both of Maloney and the scene in general. The crowd ignored him, just like it always did when the circumstances dictated. Plenty of time to look around, particularly when no one payed attention. Plenty of time also, to leave the appropriate notes at the scene. He slings his backpack off one, withdrawing a slim and surprisingly sharp stylus from within, sauntering over to a nearby brick wall as he does so. <<Maloney dead>> a scratch on the wall. <<human witnesses>> a children running sticker pasted over some garage bands poster in a nearby busstop. <<VII on the wall>> a post on an unrelated thread in an obscure subreddit. <<Maybe significant.>> do Ireally need to explain everything to you?

Ah, and it kinda rhymed. Perfect.

Spoiler: OOC

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Just a narrated contribution to the Cacophony. Obfuscate up.

And a Wits+Investigation roll:
(6d10)[1][2][1][6][8][1](19)

dice for rerolls:
(6d10)[6][7][1][9][10][9](42)

Edit: 1 success

[Failed Phantasm]

‘What were you expecting?’ asked a little voice in the back of Leo’s mind. As he trudged his way through the rows of musty shelves one more time, past the bins with red and yellow “50% off” signs, stepping over mislaid copies of the hottest self-help books from five years ago, the only answer he had for himself was: ‘Something. Anything!’ But the employee working the counter couldn’t tell Aleister Crowley from Alice in Wonderland and just about every other published occultist on Earth would be about as recognizable to the kid as his own reflection in the grease-smothered screen of his iPhone. ‘If only we had our own version of Amazon,’ he thought. His new collection had to start somewhere, though, and when he found one of his old childhood favorites — a well-worn copy of book 4 of the Ancient Lands series — he had let himself become so engrossed in rereading it that he almost missed the screaming.

Leo waited to let the stream of not-really customers jostle past each other, thumbing through his book all the while; he glanced towards the emergency exit in the back, straining to make out any sensation that would suggest he leave quickly. But no one barged through the entrance with guns blazing (or worse), nor was his Beast pressing against his thoughts and his skin in agitation, so he lay the book down after a few moments and followed the crowd outside. He wove his way through the wayward mob, ducking past outstretched hands with phones, until he had the best view he could get without attracting too much attention. He needed only to see the ash that was beginning to spill from the corpse to understand what had happened, but he couldn’t recognize the victim. ‘I need to give him his last rites,’ he thought, since there was no proper Sanctified clergyman on hand to do the deed. But that would have to wait for the crowd to disperse and for him to collect what evidence he could.

Sliding his own phone out of his pocket, Leo fiddled with the camera settings and the flash until he could make out more than a dark, indistinct blur. As he started taking photos with the same vapid ‘Oh my God!’ expression on his face as the other bystanders, he wondered which of his Kindred was the victim. It didn’t look like anyone he’d seen lately (or ever), though that might be because the face was turning to dust. But there was still something familiar about the attire, and the hairstyle, and the eyes— ‘‘Marcus?’’ he mouthed silently, his face a mask of wordless surprise. Bizarre as it was that their missing elder had just ceased to be "disappeared" in the most dramatic fashion possible, he knew he would have to pass the news along to the Lancea et Sanctum once he had finished praying over the body.

---

Spoiler: OOC

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CONDITION
Health Uninjured (-0), Vitae 5 / 10, Willpower 6 / 6

[Elestar]

Altough the lineup was a more mixed experience rather than what she expected, concerning all those good reviews, some original works really did speak well of their creators. More well than what they actually told themselves. Sweet starry heavens! All that chat about nothing and all the questions about one's otherwise incosequential well-being that konws no other polite answer than 'fine'. She was kind of expecting this setting of mentality, but the cues of the mortal populace here really seemed to resonate unlike that on the other side of the Atlantic. The SF Women Artists was vibrant, colorful even, but Olivie needed a little pause. That's what she sought at the bookstore. If she would only knew how swiftly she will be distracted from the chirping.

She was scaling up the collection on fine arts and almost pulled out a folio on , but an psychic episode distracted her within the movement. She dropped the book as she reached to her chest absent-mindedly, perhaps to ease the phantom pain that suddenly started throbbing there. She looked at the book on the floor. The pages did split at a reproduction of Man Ray's illustration of Lautréamonte's proverbial dissection table. Instead however what she saw was not the chance meeting of an umbrella and a sewing machine that the artwork originally would depict, but pencil arranged in meticulous order. She got aroused from her internal adventure by the sound of screaming and people gathering on the steet. Also the shop seemed to close, and even its disproportionally high Kindred patronage running to the supposed scene of horror. Olivie wanted to put the book back to the shelf she removed it from, but a strange sensation of a mild nutty bitterness migled with blood overwashed her tasre buds, and on the second thought, despite the locomotion it seemed a good idea to catch some fresh open air ...and to see what the fuss was all about.

She expeditiously understood once she exited the shop. She did not see a lot of Damned passing away, and she was profoundly thankful for that. It was a horrible sight to behold. She was genuinly shocked, but certainly more passive being opposed to the many of the gathered folk. She put her hands on her cheeks and mimicked gasping, shaking her head slowly. "Bonté divine!" She exclaimed in terror as she took note of the blade stabbed in to that rapidly deteriorating body. As she removed her gaze form the carcass she noticed a VII Sign. She heard wild stories regarding that. Conflicting ones at best, albeit all of them sinister.
Then she tried to pay attention to the people nearby. One said a name aloud. Perhaps the man down was a known personage? Likely. The Kine flashed phone pictures, but most of the Kindred had it also in hand... 'Whoever has done this, they don't danse very well.' Olivie noted to herself.

[lord pringle]

The onlookers continue to, well, look on. No one is calling the cops or moving. Not in a supernatural way, in an overly natural, scared for their lives in that specific mortal way. But then something about this is deeply unsettling to you. You're supposed to be tough, immune to bullets and car crashes and heart attacks, things people die from daily. And yet an old timey sword was just used to kill a vampire even older than you. You feel a little nauseous, really. Which then goes away when you remember that you're a walking corpse and you haven't used your stomach in a long time.
Christ, you need to stop looking at it. Him.
[Midori]
Your supervisor in the Conspiracy of Silence gives you the typical emotionless speech. She thanks you for your information, your time, your patronage and your effort, before saying don't worry, we'll call you. You're never really sure how far information travels like this, but, I mean, you have to hope for the best.

[OracleofSilence]

Hmm. Maaybe best to report his. Michel returns the smartphone to his pocket, pulling a decidedly cheaper an much less... modern, cell out of his backpack. Just a quick call... "Helllo?Bro, you there? Yeah, it's Michel. You might have heard already, Maloney isn't missing anymore. Dead. Yeah. It's not pretty. Yeah, I'll send pictures of the scene. Dude, that's ****ing gross. No. No I won't do that. Whatever, just thought you should know. Might as well spread it around, too. Cause all hell's about to break loose and last thing anyone'll want is to be caught hoarding useless info." Ahhh. Say what you will about the Carthians. It was literally impossible to have a boring phone call with one.

Now. There seemed to be some other kindred around. Probably not surprising. But also trouble if the situation wasn't handled properly. For now, Michel edged closer to the body, sliding effortlessly and unnoticed through the crowd, but not drawing too close just yet.

Spoiler

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Similar to Midori, just dropping a call to some the appropriate fellow Carthian. Carthian Status 1 should have that level of access covered.

[Lentrax]

Yes. Of course I understand. I understand perfectly well that you are at this moment passing the information higher up. That is what we do. Pass things along. Sigh. I should have called a Daeva. They at least probably would have made a joke during the call.

Closing her phone, Midori tucks it back in her pocket. As she does so, she notices that nothing else is happening. And... she also notices the feeling of other vampires in the crowd. Not entirely surprising, but at the same time, for there to be more than one....

She pauses, wondering how to proceed. There are too many mortals around for that....

And this isn't court either.

Which means there is no need to be formal. So, she pulls out her cigarettes, and turns on the flameless lighter, giving a long drag at the burning tobacco. She then makes an obvious look out over the crowd. And as she does, sees some familiar faces. With a smile that was half pleasure and half... something else, she beckons the other vampires over.

[Elestar]

Olivie stood by the shocking remains and its fellow observers in sort of a stupor. It really did fill her with disbelief or at least with a discouragement in self-sufficiency and in prospects for future existence. It was sickening to think about it, and to observe it. She felt her stomach moving in a nauseating twist. Not sure if it was from the abominable flash-decay of the long-dead flesh or from all the expelled gastric vaste the Kine 'blessed' the already horrid ground with.
She recalld wehther she took time to get rid of the tasty little tidbits of snacks she swallowed at the gallery to keep up the 'good work'. Of course she did. That excuse of an organ has only one opening and even less capacity and endurance.. She felt something almod-y lingering within her mouth once again.. It was not really unpleasant but it was plain disturbing. She stepped back guite a few steps. She initially wantes to take some fresh air, not that she really needed it, but now she was plain certain she won't move a nostril, let alone the lung. 'Who nows what a wasting calamity these putrid embers may carry...' Wondering whether they are some spiritual diseases a Damned may catch from one crumbling to dust. She pouted her mouth in a disgusted frown as she was.

Having herself distanced a little bit from the epitome of doom, she got a greater sope of view. Her glance gravitated to the ones with the most potently muted vibes around themselves, the Kindred spirits. 'They really did get an audience.'. Olivie thought. 'A better obsevation would be now: Why such a young audience?' She continued pondering on VII. Right until she caught the young asian female beckoning with a mild but seemigly sincerely favorable expression on her deathless face. It seemed familiar. Certainly not the type one's bound to forget. She tilted her head upward to signal she got the signal and looked at her with a smilig pair of eyes in return and started to move in her direction. On her way, after casting yet another timid look at the ill-fated carcass and its newfound attedants she slipped her smatphone from a pocket in to her hands and swashed sometimes on its screen then begun to type a quick message. Her fingertips hit it not unlike a summer shover would poke and caress a pane of glass – Rapidly, and ending as fast as it started. By the time she reached the spot were the friendly peer stood she put the device away and looked to the ground and up, sighing. "What a disgrace..."

[Lentrax]

Hmm. Midori looked up into the streetlight as she exhaled the smoke from her cigarette.

I think, she goes on, still looking up. the word you are looking for is breach. "What a breach."

Her head comes down, her eyes not quite looking into the other Vampire's.

I have seen you around before, but I do not think we have been properly introduced. Kaneda Midori. Under the circumstances, let's just skip the formal part of things, and you just start calling me Midori, okay? Saves us time, and others confusion. Who you suppose the council will send to see how much damage is done?

[Elestar]

The auburn girl watched the black haired one breathing fume. She understood most of their Kind(red) do smoke in defiance of sensitivity to fire to make a stetement on either one's toughness, resolution, and as much as she thought to see it right now, tact. The habit definitely signaled weaknes for a mortal. A routine inserted in place of something else that would harbour insecurity. As if they were thinking the smoke may really hide something. Ironically it was showing something. The undead were not so clear to read though. They may cling to it as a sad remnant of thier mortality, or just plainly mimicing the flock. Olivie allowed a fleeting moment for herself to ponder on where does that leave this lady.

"Quite." She nodded in agreement, only to be followed by a soft shake of her head for disapproval for what's indeed left to be seen.

She was somewhat surprised to hear how much the talk turned out to be swelling. It was conforting to talk with somebody, in face of all this absurd display. "Ah, yes. I could swear..." extending a hand slightly, subtly proximating her peer, while keeping as much distance as before. She nodded to her point on cutting formalitites short. 'That's the authoritative spirit.' she noted to herself, amusedly, as Midori said how she should be called -'okay?'. She offered a genuinely brightened expression. "The first name in the second place. That's Japanese then, right?" Then she realized it was somewhat a less-than-becoming question. She looked away for a moment, than right at the figure below the streetlight. "Olivie Devereux. Olivie, that is." She added with a flat smile. "Frankly. I'm truly surprised it's still ony us here." She takes a look aroud. "Well.. someone somewhere's bound to pull strings already. No Kine authority's present yet..." She raises an eyebrow quizically. "...Or been called for." The pitch of her voice raising towads the end of that last half-sentence. 'This isn't a mere flock... Are they really trained to be ignorant? Like, to that degree?'. She flashed her eyes there and forth, measuring them up, then she stopped. "Well, that's beyond my insight, but surely there must be some ...sanitary task-force who possesses the agency to clean up mess." She sighed. "This mess ought to be new, though. No doubt."

[OracleofSilence]

Yoink.

A quikc few pictures on both phones later, and Michel was moving away from the body, note carefully slipped into his pocket. Once he reached the edge of the crowd, he drops his obfuscation, as much for the benefit of any nearby Kindred as any reduction in paranoia. Ah. A few at the edge of the crowd as well...

He approaches the group carefully, best not to spook anyone after all, noding cordially to each of them. "What a night, hmm? Isn't it lovely to see the cracks ever now and then?"

[Lentrax]

The auburn girl watched the black haired one breathing fume. She understood most of their Kind(red) do smoke in defiance of sensitivity to fire to make a stetement on either one's toughness, resolution, and as much as she thought to see it right now, tact. The habit definitely signaled weaknes for a mortal. A routine inserted in place of something else that would harbour insecurity. As if they were thinking the smoke may really hide something. Ironically it was showing something. The undead were not so clear to read though. They may cling to it as a sad remnant of thier mortality, or just plainly mimicing the flock. Olivie allowed a fleeting moment for herself to ponder on where does that leave this lady.

"Quite." She nodded in agreement, only to be followed by a soft shake of her head for disapproval for what's indeed left to be seen.

She was somewhat surprised to hear how much the talk turned out to be swelling. It was conforting to talk with somebody, in face of all this absurd display. "Ah, yes. I could swear..." extending a hand slightly, subtly proximating her peer, while keeping as much distance as before. She nodded to her point on cutting formalitites short. 'That's the authoritative spirit.' she noted to herself, amusedly, as Midori said how she should be called -'okay?'. She offered a genuinely brightened expression. "The first name in the second place. That's Japanese then, right?" Then she realized it was somewhat a less-than-becoming question. She looked away for a moment, than right at the figure below the streetlight. "Olivie Devereux. Olivie, that is." She added with a flat smile. "Frankly. I'm truly surprised it's still ony us here." She takes a look aroud. "Well.. someone somewhere's bound to pull strings already. No Kine authority's present yet..." She raises an eyebrow quizically. "...Or been called for." The pitch of her voice raising towads the end of that last half-sentence. 'This isn't a mere flock... Are they really trained to be ignorant? Like, to that degree?'. She flashed her eyes there and forth, measuring them up, then she stopped. "Well, that's beyond my insight, but surely there must be some ...sanitary task-force who possesses the agency to clean up mess." She sighed. "This mess ought to be new, though. No doubt."

Well, the report is moving it's way though the chain. No idea when it will reach anyone who can or will do anything about it. And I don't hear any sirens, so it hasn't reached local PD ears either.

[Elestar]

To her comment on the state of information-flow, Olivie nodded in understanding. "Executive authorities sure are most tangible in their absence..." She was pondering aloud. "I mean, none is seemingly making haste to intervene here."

As a new face removed from the crowd approched and greeted the female clique of dead this horror-site had on offer Olivie nodded back in kind on this one other of Kindred spirits. More than that, still. The shadows on his form apperared almost to speak. A Kindred of similar stripes, as it seemed.
"A night I feel glad to be dead, still." She said almost silently, inteded only for the ears of their Damned trio below the streetlight. Her face took on a sad frown as she thought about the sight of the gruesome leftovers of the fellow corpse in question. Calling the cautionary visage "lovely" sounded not as tactless as inappropriate in a good way. Even a light tone of humor seemed to carry at least a fleeting measure of affirmation that unlife goes on – even in the face of horror that give the dead a pause.

[lord pringle]

After a few more minutes go past, the cops arrive to cordon off the scene. Then, a black tesla with tinted windows rolls up to the scene. Stepping out of the passenger side is none other than Councilma Lee Garfield, dressed in a black pea-coat, skinny jeans, a scarf and a golf cap. He swipes a hand under his nose and murmurs, "Who could do such a thing..." before walking over to Midori. "You were the one who made the call about him? I can't believe he died. We were very close-" his phone buzzes. "Hold on, I have to take this. Business, you know?"
The next person to arrive comes out of an lyft. It's Jermaine King, a Carthian that the council empowered to restrict masquerade breaches. He has a winning smile, a striped button up purple shirt. He comes out and begins trying to work the crowd. Asking them what they saw and systematically resassuring them that they saw wrong or that that kinda thing happens all the time. Bugs, you know?
Finally, coming out of the drivers seat of an Benz is Tommy Romano, in a bespoke suit, light cigarette in his mouth. He's very much almost crying. "Oh god, Marcus? No no no, sh*t! God-aagh!" He kicks into a dumpster, leaving a dent, before making the sign of the cross. He walks over to the other Lancea member. "Were you, uh, the first one to find him? Motherfu- did you see the rat bastard who did this?"

[Lentrax]

Yes. It is such a terrible tragedy.

Midori makes an appropriate withdrawal as Lee takes his phone call. She opts to go back to her smoking as she waits.

[Elestar]

As the opertaive forces arrived and cordoned the site of the dead-scene Olivie tried to remain in the background.
Despite Midori and Councilman Garfield were in her vicinity, she knew better than initiate interaction which was uncalled for.
She seemed to be the one not (yet) apppoached by the greater predators who arrived and addressed one of her fellow breash-less bystanders. These macabre dansers each seemed to carry the precular scent or flavor of a certain slice that made up the 'cake' of the All-night-cociety. Unashamed extravagant, deliberate mediocre, and pious conservative ...if anythig, by the look of it. She got a fleeting thought about doing something that would garner some personal esteem for the local Defiant, but resorted rather texting a few short exchanges on her phone again. She looked at the high-up Damned once in a while, actually waiting – almost patiently – on when or rather if they will notice "VII" on the wall.