Vampire: Renfield's Masquerade (Game Thread)

[Traveling_Angel]

"Vampires?" *The next minute is censored*

"Well, I do own a tent shop..."

TA proceeds to run over to his shop and jury rig a bandolier of Wooden stakes.

"Now I just need enough tea to stay awake..."

[Eldritch Knight]

It would appear that this Pwenet is a person of some suspicion.

[Lord Fullbladder, Master of Goblins]

Staring out a window of a building of no real distinction, a man takes off a heavy leather glove to claw at the inside of his ear as the howling occurs. As he examines the wax partially under his fingernail, a blast of steam blooms behind him with an accompanying whistle. At this, he repositioned the large, bright orange goggles from his forehead to his eyes (leaving pale rectangles in the grungy skin) and spins around to observe the results of his latest tests.

Laid out on the table before him, shining brass bristling with copper tubes and silver pipes whirr and twitch as the four claw-like fingers attached to the end of the contraption flex slightly and seem to grip the table before lying dead once more. Lord Fullbladder, having slaved over this arm for a week already, rubs his chin in thought. He ponders on the great amounts of rumours flying about about his nightly disappearances to this remote little house, but every night he returns and sets his brainmeats to mechanical engineering. The howling continues somewhere off in the distance.

"Clara's (Curly) probably going to blame all that ruckus on me again. That woman has her fingers in more affairs than I have tight bolts."

He shakes his head. On the table, the arm's shoulder-tubes whistle weakly.

"Right then, Reginald, let's see if I can't improve your grip."

The arm didn't answer.

((You should never tell me what to do, Curly. I just might do it.))

[Andre Fairchilde]

Templar Fairchilde was not one to let the time of day interfere with his mission. After securing his lodging at the church ('requesting' the Priest's quarters for privacy) Fairchilde checks his equipment - three pistols with silver bullets, three wooden daggers hardened cured with holy water, and a flask with a liqued consecrated by the pope himself.

Foregoing the late evening, Templar Fairchilde smiles as he enters Alarra's study.

As he enters the room, Andre notices watches the small, disapproving butler wince as the lady of the house smoothly coos "Do prepare a suite for our guest, won't you."

She smiles once more. "Forgive me sir, I've not even learnt your name."

"Madam, I very much appreciate your time and hospitality. Tonight I have already moved aside the local priest, but I do belive you are doing the church a great service for allowing my stay in your home. Thank you, we accept.

Allow me to come to my business quickly, as I feel the night harbors dangers to those of the mortal coil. I present to you a this work (hand's Alarra very old, tattered book) that belongs to your family, and as such is your heritage.
If you did not know, your father's brother was a Templar.

Believe it or not he died defending al lthat was good while fighting Werewolves in a small bar named the wolves bane. His papers led me to bring this book to you, as you are his oldest living relative and he had no children.

So, here is your legacy.

Now, before I bid you adieu for the night - but accept your offer of lodgings, can you tell me of a man known as Eldritch Knight Pwenet? I understand he may have been affiliated with some unlicensed witchcraft, and wish to ask him some questions and perhaps burn down his house.

(Although more than likely a villager, Pwenet is opting for either a lynch or autolynch. He's starting a new job and running Zombies, and doesn't think he'll have the time.)

[Pwenet]

Seeing the others look at him, Pwenet shrugs and goes looking for a glass of blood color liquid.

[Madmal]

((points at Korias, until he gets an idea on who to play here))

[ZombieRockStar]

A glass of red wine. Fingers clutching the bowl of the glass like ivy climbing up the side of a wall. He drinks, lips and tongue caressing the rim.

A glare. He remains silent, accusations muted, though his gaze is fixed on Pwenet. He smirks. The wine cup is emptied.

((Ugh...Gothic is not my style, really.))

[Jontom Xire]

((I've spent the last hour reviewing WW games when I should be doing work, so just a quick point at Pwenet and maybe write something later.))

[pingcode20]

*Pointing at Pwenet in lieu of a character concept.

[Ichneumon]

Stepping forth from his room in a well-to-do inn, Terumitsu adjusted his hair in passing and looked at the streets with bland contempt. Such a dirty town... But buisness called him and he must answer. He notices a movement of something behind a window and gives Ichneumon a rather unkind look for his odd actions.

The wasp notices Terumitsu, but doesn't react to his presence. His vision is blurred and he is having spasms all over his body. The voice doesn't speak. It screams. He is the only one who can hear it. It hurts.

The voice never stops. In the beginning the wasp could ignore it, but the last few years the voice has become harder to resist.

He is taking over.

Suddenly the spasms stop. His vision is clear. His head is clear.

His facial expression seems a bit different. With a voice, not his own, he speaks:"Let's kill those vampires, shall we?"

[Neodan282]

A kobold wearing green plumbers clothes and a green hat that has a green N on it looks around.
"V-v-vampires!? Oh no! I came here to get away from ghosts and I run into a vampire zone! YAH!

Turns around and points at a statue of Lord Godming.

[Zar Peter]

Zar Peter, an austrian salesman is sitting at the banket table, eating some baked liver with fried onions, looks up.

Werwolves? I hate these abominations of nature. Much too many of them around here nowadays.
You sir!

points at Pwenet

could you give me some of the red wine, too, please?

[evnafets]

He stands on top of the hill, silhouetted against the sky. He can sense his cousins in the surrounding area but does not approach them, knowing they are in thrall to one who embodies a great and ancient evil. One whose kind is a mortal enemy - not just to him and his, but to all things living.
Raising his muzzle to the bloody moon, he issues a great howl of challenge.

The hunt for the Vampyre has begun.

[Alarra]

Alarra takes the book gingerly, "No. I wasn't aware of this. Thank you."

She gazes at the cover, running a finger gingerly along the spine as she tunes out much of the rest that is spoken, nodding where she deems it appropriate.

After a moment the room lapses into silence and she realizes that she was asked a question and searches back into her mind for what she may have missed. "Pwenet? No. I'm afraid I do not know of him. Though I wish you luck in your search should you find he does have dealings with the occult."

She still appears preoccupied and it isn't difficult to tell that while she is attempting to remain courteous and the perfect hostess that she wants nothing more than an opportunity to peruse the tattered tome alone.

[Andre Fairchilde]

With that, Andre leaves takes his leave from his societal betters, and leaves her to her thoughts.

[Vonriel]

A handsome man dressed in the finest cut suit is still standing, looking at the corpses of Silas Hadow and Helmund(?) Graff. "What is it about vampires that makes them do this. Both these men were respectable, decent folk. Some might even call them grand." He stands in silence, mentally cursing the vampires. "Their deaths shall not be in vain." He paces back and forth, willing to wait out the last few moments before night ends. "What, you thought I would go out at night? With this fog? I may be out for blood, sir, but I'm no idiot."

[Therarde]

A man hurries through the door. He hangs his coat on the coat rack and closes the door as quickly as possible, kupo. A bit of a chill out tonight.

[Helgraf]

From the top of the bannister at the top of the stairs, the crazed man dangles, pop-eyes looking at all those assembled.


"Decide ... decide ... life inside and death without. Find them!" Yessss... find them my pretty children.

He dangles upside down, held up only by his feet hooked into the metal latticework of the rail, swaying back and forth like a mad child ... or an agitated bat. Yessss ... No ... which one are you, Master. I know you are here...

"Morning comes and nighttime fails ...
The sun in these walls ne'er prevails ...
So find thee all a toothsome friend ...
... and pray so after night ends."


The madman flips back over the rail and scampers out of sight.

[Ink]

A tourist stands alone in an empty space in the crowd. One look at him and it is obvious that he is not from these parts. He is wearing a strange getup that includes a jacket and pants with plenty of pockets that are bulging with various paraphernalia.

"Aha, vampires, is it? My time to shine!"

He whips out a book titled Vampire Hunting for Dummies and opens to a page.

"Let's see... Step 1: Get some wooden stakes. Check! Step 2: Make sure you have plenty of holy water. Check!" He pats the utility belt at his waist that is slung with potion bottles of all shapes and sizes. "Step 3: Have garlic ready. Hah! Way ahead of you! Good thing I bathed in the garlic oil this morning!" A few of the people closest to him edge further away but he doesn't notice. "Step 4: Find a vampire." He falters here and looks around uncertainly. Suddenly he spots Atreyu nearby.

"Hmm, strange beast... Let's see... woolly... four legs..."

As he peers at the Llama, Ink flips fervently through the book trying to find the chapter on vampire descriptions.

[Shadow]

The tension in the air is thick as the crowd begins to gather around Pwenet. The stranger in the manor backpeddles through the ballroom searching for a way out, a way to safety.
The moon hangs low on the horizon.
Pwenet looks left, towards the crowd, then right, towards the door where the wolves still howl beyond.

The deranged man from earlier this evening appears next to the seemingly doomed Pwenet and whispers something in his ear. Pwenet's eyes grow wide at the words.
The Master will have you either way.....
"It matters little where you run. It matters little." Renfield says aloud in a singsong voice.

[Atreyu the Masked LLama]

(Hehehe. Nice, Ink.)

*The llama trots around inside the house. Its hopelessly lost, but at least the feeling of dread and death that was outside is less strong in here. It accidently bumps Ink as it meanders around.*
(no reason, but hey, it may lead to fun RP.)

[CurlyKitGirl]

Merriment is abound in the downstairs of Lupe Manor; the heiress of its vast astates is tipsy and laughing along with the servants.
"Clara! Hwhat h'are you doing here?" Spinning around Clara stares aghast at the figure in the doorway. An ice woman dressed in icy green silk is standing in the doorway of the kitchen.
"Mama!"
"How are you ever to get married h'if you persist in consorting with the help? I should not even be here but I was afraid that Lord Poynton Bradbury Wynter Cole would come in search h'of h'you. And you know how he is. A perfect gossip." Grabbing her daughter delicately by the arm, so as not to harm the fabric she pulls her daughter away from her companions and into the dizzying world of falsity and bargaining.
Clara stands dejectedly by her mothers side as noblemen cast an appraisig eye at her wondering, "Is she rich enough to be married to my son? She certainly is catching, in a peculiar way; but far to ruddy. That can be fixed but is she worth my son?" Clara just stands there, eyes downcast and playing the part of "A shy rather withdrawn child who prefers sowing and gentle reading h'above h'anything else."
"Bloody woman."

((Hey, is this Alarras' mansion, mine or Helmund Grafs'? Or is it Anonymous Maison?))

[Shadow]

((It is Lord Godalming's Estate.))

[Jeggred Von]

Adjusting his wide brimmed hat, Jeggred "The Jackyl" Picks at one of the violin strings as he ear-tunes it, twisting it's tuning peg. A few strange things hang of the end of the scroll end of the neck. A necklace with a large incisor, a tied bit of hair, a red ribbon and a few baubles. Finding the correct pitch of sound to his liking, he refocused his attention around the room.

Jeggred viewed the strange gathering of people and ...llamas... milling about the mansion. He walked over to where Piratemonk stood and leaned against the ornate pillar where he stood.

"Strange dealings within these lands. Might be that the lot of us in this house be a sight big meal for the puppies outside, eh?" Jeggred smirks, showing a single golden capped incisor. His canines dull and flat.

"Don' worry tho. With the ammoun' o' people in dis room, give us plenty o' time ta get out, if'n the puppies learn da windows are thin.." Jeggred smiles again and pulls his bow from under his arm, and begins to play his violin. A dark somber ballad.

[Alarra]

((Hey, is this Alarras' mansion, mine or Helmund Grafs'? Or is it Anonymous Maison?))

(I'm over in my own mansion next door. )

[CurlyKitGirl]

((hey hey, come over for a spot of afternoon tiffin then ))

[Raeden]

Seemingly unbothered by the thick fog, a tall man with a rough appeareance walks over the estate. Over his right shoulder he carries a juvenile female deer, holding on to her hind legs with a hand covered with dried up blood, in his other hand he holds a couple of rabbits. Two long knives are sheathed on his belt, and over his free shoulder hangs a hunting riffle. His strong arms and unshaven face spot bruises and small cuts, his clothes are ruffled and slightly torn, and his eyes are red with swollen veins. This man has had a rough night.

Homing in on the manor with senses refined by a long life of hunting, Raeden walks past the dead bodies. "Fools," he thinks to himself als he enters the manor, guessing the deceased are victims of the wolves. Inside, he walks up to the first person he sees, Ink, who is staring at a wooly creature.
"Hey, Raeden start's his sentence, not really being a person of good manners and social talk, you seem to have an interest in animals. D'you know where I can deliver these dead ones? Y'see, I'm a little late for the ball, but I couldn't show up without a present for lord Godalming y'know.

[Ichneumon]

The dark shadows are moving. Something is chaging. We must be quick. The vampires are coming.

Ichneumon starts walking in circles. He doesn't have a plan, and he knows that is dangerous. They are the children of the night, they kill and do so without any doubt.

I must have a plan.

[Almighty Salmon]

Out of the pitch black shadows a well-built athletic man swiftly walks in. In his left hand he carries a long black bow and on his back a quiver which holds many arrows. He wears a drawn out cloak accompanied by a deep green hood. The man says no words yet this apohtic brown eyes tell a thousand stories.

He raises an eyebrow and looks over towards Ichneumon who is walking in circles.

[Therarde]

The man finds a place to sit down and notices the llama. Hm. Haven't seen one of those for quite a while.