Fandom Vampire The Masquerade: Royal Shadows (Relaunch-IC)

[Darrian_Gabriel]

The sleek black limo meandered through the dark exurbs on the outskirts of Royal Haven. The bright lights on the metropolis could be clearly seen in the distance as the vehicle hurried it’s way towards the Keystone Bridge, arguably one of Royal Haven’s most notable landmarks that led straight into the heart of the city. In the back of the limo sat a tall pale skin man wearing a suit and tie, his light gray eyes briefly catching the light of the full moon overhead. He grins as he rolls down the tinted partition that separated him and his driver.

“Andrew, dial up Eshara if you would thank you.”

“Right away sir.” says the driver.

The limo’s speakers come alive with the dial tone of a ringing phone when a sweet yet seductive voice answers on the other end “Hello?”

“Eshara, its Draven.”

“Yes I know Francis, I do have caller I.D.” says the young woman with a chuckle.

“Of course, are you already at the ballroom?” asks Draven.

“Indeed I am, it’s a smaller turnout but that’s to be expected as this was a special council, invite only. Which begs the question Francis, where are you? Proceedings are about to begin.”

“I had a business trip earlier tonight, but I’m en route now. I should be at Elysium within the hour. So what do you think this is all about anyway?”

“I think it’s quite obvious. They’re going to announce the nominees and put it to a vote.”

Draven smiles, his pearl white fangs glinting against the shadow “You really think we’ve nominated?”

“Was there ever a doubt?” Eshara says slyly.

This causes Draven to smirk “Well If I’m voted in, I’m sure to choose you as my personal Harpy.”

“No offense darling, but I hardly need any help in securing that title.”

This causes Draven to laugh heartily “Touché lovely. But I’ll let you go for now. However be a dear and run cover with the Sheriff for my tardiness.”

“Consider it done…”says Eshara as she hangs up.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Back at the Special Elysium, Eshara, dressed in an exquisite ruby red gown studded with diamonds, immediately goes back to her phone and hurriedly types in a text.

Hey, I gotta job for you stud. There’s a lone Malkavian that’s headed your way. He’ll be crossing the Lands Down access road in the next twenty minutes. I’ll send you the Google Maps coordinates. This is important. Bring me his fangs when the job’s done.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Inside a seedy bar, dimly lit with a few interior neon lights, sits a group of very rough looking individuals. This is the club house/hideaway for the violent biker gang known as The Horsemen of War. Sitting at one of the counter tops drinking a beer and watching a football game is a tall, tanned skin man with jet black hair and a shock white stubble beard. This is Jason Aguilera, aggressive Hunter and leader of The Horsemen gang. Jason’s cell phone blinks to life as Eshara’s text comes through, along with the Google Maps coordinates. He looks at the message and sneers.

“Malkavian huh. It’s been a while since I bagged one of those.” he says in a low voice. A moment later he gets up from his stool and calls out “Horsemen, mount up!! We’re hunting suck heads tonight!”

The other bikers respond in a chorus of cheers, hoots and hollers of approval. They all proceed to file out of the bar to their motorcycles parked outside, and whilst doing so produce an orgy of firearms from each of their persons. The air was deafened with the sounds of gun slides cocking, magazines being loaded and bladed weapons being sheathed. Not more than a few minutes after receiving the text, the contingent of bikers were roaring onto the lonely road and off into the night.
---------------------------------------------------------------
Back at the heart of the magnificent Avian Ballroom and the site of the Special Elysium, Eshara Krishna prepares to enter the inner sanctuary of the Camarilla assembled council. Seated at a grand table are several delegates, spokesmen and even Primogens of several of the Kindred Clans throughout Royal Haven. At the head of the table is Jacob Canarvon of Clan Ventrue, Sherriff of former Prince Jhardi Mehmed. As Eshara makes her way through the grand hall, she makes obligatory small talk with several of the attendees when she is tapped from behind by a gaunt looking vampire dressed in a ceremonial royal guard’s uniform.

“As I unlive and breath. Jerimiah Balk, I’m so pleased to see you were summoned here.” says Eshara, her obvious contempt for Balk showing through.

Balk raises the beautiful young Toreador’s hand to his thin lips as he kisses the back of her palm “Lady Eshara. I must say I’m a little surprised to see you. I wasn’t expecting a half wit harpy to be amongst the nominees.”

Narrowing her eyes “I could say the same of a tired old Tremere whose Blood Sorcery is as impressive as his thinning hair.”

“You had best watch yourself young Toreador, your money won’t always be there to save you. I knew there was something off about you from the start.”

Just than the Sherriff calls the meeting to order “If we could have all of our delegates be seated, we’ll begin the proceedings.”

Eshara snatches her hand away from Balk as everyone quickly takes their assigned seats at the grand table. The Sherriff looks around and instantly notices two empty seats “It seems we’re missing two delegates.”

Eshara speaks up “Esteemed Sherriff, if I may, I spoke with Francis Draven not more than a few minutes ago. He was detained by business, but should be here very shortly.”

“Detained or not, attention to promptness is integral to The Camarilla. Especially if those wish to be considered for Prince of the city no less. Anyway, what of the other absentee?”

Another vampire delegate calls out “I believe the absentee is one Elias Albaster a delegate of Clan Tzimisce.”

Canarvon taps his finger on the table in annoyance “Well has anyone seen the Tzimisce?” Eccentric_Undead

Witherbrine26 Karcen Worthlessplebian CloudySkyLoftyMoon Athanas

 

[Eccentric_Undead]

Elias Alabaster

Karcen Witherbrine26 Worthlessplebian CloudySkyLoftyMoon Athanas Darrian_Gabriel
​

"You all bark like wounded dogs. It's annoying." The door opens, the entire group within the Special Elysium are treated to something most people would never consider possible. The people opening the door were not people really. Rather, they were corpses. Stitched together from multiple bodies, clearly patchwork, but anybody who knew about the fleshcraft could tell you that this was very good work. There was barely any scarring and you could hardly see where the other bodies met. Skin tone was off a little bit in some places, but most people would never be able to tell that it was more than just a skin pigment disorder. You know, aside from the rotting death part.

After the doors open, Elias walked in. It was something so frightening. The pure white skin, the absolute authority and fear that this creature must inspire. Grown from thousands of years of chasing anatomical perfection. Not because he's vain, but because he wanted to. It was frightening that the face that people were presented with was so perfect, aside from the giant monstrous mouth below the chin. All four of his arms hidden away under his robes, but not his animal like legs or tail. What was even more shocking was the fact that when he spoke, the face that acted as a mask simply emoted, the monstrous mouth being the one to actually speak the words.

The towering Tzimisce stepped inside, looking at the other Representatives within the chamber. All of them barking, attempting to stake their claim to territory. Amusing younglings in his eyes. There was a small chuckle that escaped him as they looked upon his visage. He knew that his clan was uniquely feared, but most people felt themselves safe as the Tzimisce prided themselves on Old world hospitality, but in this specific instance, Elias was annoyed beyond measure. All he wanted to do was live a peaceful life with his wife, but here they were, attempting to force him into the world of kindred politics. Part of him wanted to rip them all apart and turn them into beautiful furniture, but what fun would that be? His eyes fell upon Eshara. He didn't really see much to be impressed by. He could tell by her scent that she was a thin blood. However, he could also tell that she was Toreador. To be honest, she seemed like she was going to be the most annoying of the bunch, but that could be handled later. After all, he was from a much different time and generation. None of these people could even comprehend his power.

"Forgive my tardiness. As some of you may know, it is rude to rush one's wife when she is getting ready." His face turned back to the door "My love, wouldn't you agree?"

He held out one of his arms, once his wife took his hand, he led her in gently. Smiling down at her as he admired his work. She was in a wonderful dress. Designed to match old Victorian era style, seeming to be made of the same fabric that another dress might be, but upon closer inspection one could tell that each layer of fabric was layers of skin, dyed red with human blood. Layers of skin stacked on top of each other to create a wonderful lace lattice across the dress, burned black. Everything was created from human flesh or bone. Yet it was done with such efficiency that only the trained I could tell it apart from normal fabric. A smile formed on his face as he lifted her hand, kissing it gently "Do you like the dress my dear?" One of his arms reached out, bones snapping and cracking in his arm as it extended beyond what it should be able to, gently pulling out a seat for his love, seeming not to care about anybody around. All he was worried about was Ash, the beauty and love of his life.

 

[Karcen]

Ash
Location: Elysium
Mentions: Eccentric_Undead ​

It was funny how much chaos could be caused by the death one one cainite these days, kill a prince and the whole city burns in the night. Ash did wonder how modern cainites survived any uncertainty if they needed such strict guidance. The cainites had changed so much since the days of the second city and even the enlightenment, they had become weak in some ways. Ash had seen it in many, though her love being an elder like her had not a trace of the fear and uncertainty of the young and that was worth more than anything to Ash. It had not been to long since Ash had managed to return from the shadowlands and so much had changed, she was still getting used to it all, the Kine had changed, the world had changed and even the cainites had changed so much it was hard for an old woman like her to keep up. Still it gave her plenty to study, plenty to learn almost as much as there was to learn of oblivion itself. This special council would not have been called in the old days, whoever wanted to rule would assert that they did and others would either obey or challenge them or just ignore them. Her clan had almost always chosen the latter always stuck in their experiments and study, they had little interest in which cainite said they ruled what area. Still times had changed, the fall of the second city had started this change, no longer did the cainites rule kine as gods, now they were shadows who hid in the night, how sad caine would be. The fact that they had thinned the blood of caine to the point that thin bloods existed was a sad reality, and that one seemed to seek to rule the city when she was just a step above kine themselves was almost insulting. Still her husband being the prince would be annoying as the two would be pulled out from the simple life of study they so enjoyed.

" Come now dear the young have yet you learn how to wait, like kine for them a night is an awfully long time" Ash said as her husband called those before them dogs. none in the room could match the two who had been embraced by the very makers of the clan. They had seen the second city and known what it was to truly be cainites. Ash herself had even felt the presence of caine himself. The group before her was nothing compared to that awful power and even she was nothing. It was Kine that had to rush and hurry to do all they wanted with their mortal lives not cainites who had eternity.

When Her husband apologized Ash chuckled a little bit , what other cainite would wait for their wife to get ready when there was power to be gained? Well for them power of the prince was nothing ruling a city was nothing like it had been when city states were a thing. " Of course what is a few minutes to those that will live forever" Ash said again another very minor jab at the young and their almost kine like behavior.

With the unnatural grace of true cainites of the eldest blood Ash moved with her husband who despite to many might look like a monster was more lovely than any other man, to their seats. The arts of flesh shaping were so interesting and being able to shape flesh and bone to strip away everything to observe every part of the body from every angel as it died was something any of her path would be enamored with. Flesh bone and soul them coming together was something that was the most natural thing in the world. While so many preferred to look human, even Ash herself, there was a certain amount of respect you had to give one who let go of that last bit of humanity. If ash's heart could flutter it would every time she looked upon her husbands inhuman visage. If Ash could blush she would as her pale hand was kissed " Of course i love it i love any gift from you my love" She said easily joining her husband in their own little world as the two had no need of pretending about anything around the other. It was a blessing few cainites would ever get.

" Come take up your seat love, i think the young ones might frenzy if we take to long" Ash joked again poking fun at how only they seemed okay with waiting and taking their time. Only their sires or the one above them could ever make them hurry.

 

[Athanas]

The ruinous chanting echoed throughout the decrepit garage, in an ancient tongue most would not recognize. Occasionally, it would be punctuated with the scraping of chalk and the sound of a blade slicing flesh. Despite the severity of the words, another thing was quite clear from the voice-exhaustion, pure and undiluted, wracked the caster. Not of the physical variety, of course-it'd been more than half a century since such concerns plagued him. But even the undying soul can tire, when confronted with constant adversity.

Royal Haven had seemed like a good idea, lamented Alexander, in theory. A stable Camarilla presence is useful-they believe creatures like himself to be mostly myths the elders use to scare the neonates, and their mere presence dissuades kill-squads of Garou or Sabbat Inquisitors. Less than a week after sneaking his way into the city, however, and catastrophe had already struck-a dead prince. A dead prince! A man that had lasted decades in the role, and survived for ten times that, killed by some unknown assailant like it was nothing. And now everything was up in the air again.

A morbid amusement creeped into his thoughts as he considered the possibility of it being no coincidence. But could the diabolists of Royal Haven be so potent? He doubted it, somehow. He supposed he would find out soon enough.

The chanting finished. A lesser rite, invoking the name of his patron, calling out to all those, mortal, immortal, or otherwise that may serve it. Such creatures often held information, at least some solid lead he could begin pursuing in regards to the princeling's death. What would their price be? He would discover it soon enough. He hoped there would be some answer-even to someone with access to familiars, Royal Haven was too big to wander around randomly in.

He allowed himself a moment to sit down, feeling the cacophony of voices rise in volume, aggravated by his recent communion with dark forces. He couldn't stay long, answer or no answer, unfortunately-there was another issue to deal with. And after that, he needed to replenish his vitae. And then, another summoning...

By all the Dukes of Hell and their trusted Barons, he was so fucking tired.

Darrian_Gabriel

---

The mere sight of the church made him sick, as his beast recoiled and roared in protest at being merely in the presence of such iconography. It had clearly seen better days, which was fortunate-much of it's luster was lost, and, when one considered the metaphysical implications, it's ability to repel creatures like him had suffered similarly. It was still by no means gone, and his downcast eyes would betray as much, was one to know of his true nature. He ran his mind through a myriad of possible actions, ways he could approach this situation, but ultimately, he decided on keeping it as simple as possible. Taking a seat on a small stump close to the church's entrance, the newcomer, who, thanks to his gift of Obfuscate, appeared oddly...human, lit a cigarrete with deliberate, unhurried movements. It did nothing for him anymore, of course, but it was still a tic he had retained, invaluable for when he wanted to put on a façade of relaxation.

He was making no effort to hide himself from anyone who might be observing from inside the church or it's environs, although some more vitae had been expended in enhancing the vampiric form's already potent durability. If push came to shove...he would most likely run away, and come back another time with company.

Relax. Take it easy. You're just a Nosferatu investigating the death of the Prince and making sure there's no Sabbat assholes around. Just a guy. Nothing to worry about here. Nothing at all.

Gathering his resolve, he called out. A show of courtesy to the possible host.

"Hey, uh, feller in the church! I mean no trouble, but I dare not presume by coming in. You mind coming out here? I'd like for us to talk for a bit. No pressure, just doing some due diligence."

His voice was steady and unremarkable, with maybe a hint of an eastern European accent, concealing his unease with practiced nonchalance.

Spoiler: Mask of a Thousand Faces appearance

Worthlessplebian CloudySkyLoftyMoon

 

[CloudySkyLoftyMoon]

Her face was pale, and her lips were paler still. That...checked out. A hooked finger pulled at the corners of her mouth: ferocious fangs, considerable canines, sharp pointed teeth! However you wanted to describe them, they weren’t natural... not on humans. On a vampire maybe... but, the jury was still out on that one.

Cynthia huffed and tossed the collection dish she’d been using as a mirror. The clatter of metal was all too loud in the disquiet of the abandoned church. Alun had been clear with what had happened to her, with what she had become, but it was so...far-fetched! As the story went, the biblical Caine had been cursed with vampirism and his descendants now roamed the earth converting—no, embracing—humans as they had a mind. She had been the latest such victim and a new life of sucking blood, lording over the night, and kick-ass vampire powers lay ahead of her.

Honestly, besides the sucking blood and complete derailment of her life, it didn’t sound too bad—she was actually, secretly, a bit excited! Of course, the drawbacks were significant. Apparently, she could no longer eat or drink anything but blood, sunlight would un-undead her into just normally dead, and other vampires were supposedly pricks.

Maybe Alun had been exaggerating? So far he had been nice if not outright cordial; she’d defiantly scarfed down a burger a couple minutes earlier to no ill effect—she was strangely, still hungry, but surely, that would pass; and, surely the sun-thing could be mitigated with an umbre—A voice from outside.

Cynthia perked up. One of Alun’s friends, perhaps? Didn’t sound like it. In fact, she wasn’t sure what it sounded like. It was an odd greeting if she’d ever heard one. No pressure? Due diligence? What ever was he going on about? The closest thing she could imagine was... oh, uh oh. They weren't being arrested for squatting, were they?

The newling scrambled to her feet and peeked at their visitor from the shattered remains of what had once been beautifully stained glass. She didn’t see a car, there were no flashing lights, and he wasn’t in uniform so...maybe not a cop? Whoever this man was, he probably wasn’t here for her.

The turned to call Alun but stumbled at what form of address she should use: Father, Priest, Elder? What did he go by? Hell, what kind of church was this anyway? Questions for later!

“Mister, you’ve got a guest!”

Athanas Worthlessplebian

 

[Darrian_Gabriel]

As the limo continued to barrel down the lonely access road with the lights of Royal Haven becoming ever brighter in the distance. Draven looked out of the window and could barely make out the outline of an old dilapidated church not to far off within his line of sight. Than out of nowhere a loud shot echoes through the night air followed by the limo bumping up and down wildly.

"Andrew what was that?" asked Draven.

"We seem to have acquired a flat sir, not to worry. I'll have us back up and running in no time."

"Be quick about it, I've kept Elysium waiting for too long as it is." said Draven.

Andrew pulls to the side of the road and cuts the engine. The limo lurches to one side as the front right tire seems to have completely blown out "It'll just take a second Mr. Draven. I've got two spares in the trunk."

No sooner does Andrew utter these words than the loud and encroaching roar of motorcycle engines are heard approaching fast from behind. Within a matter of seconds the limo is surrounded by about eight Harley Davidsons that completely block off any escape on all sides.





"Well what have we here?" asks Draven, a cocked grin beginning to form.

"Just a misunderstanding I'm sure. Let me handle this Mr. Draven, just sit tight." says Andrew as he slowly exits the vehicle with his hands slightly raised. He shields his eyes from the bright glare of the motorcycle headlights. The silhouette of the bikers can be seen in the shadows, all of them menacingly staring out of the darkness, some of them occasionally revving up their engines to increase the intimidation factor. Andrew swallows hard "Take it easy fellas, we weren't trying to cause any trouble. We just caught a flat. I was gonna just patch it up and we'll be on our way."

Jason dismounts his bike and walks into the light. In his hand he holds a smoking Glock 19. He approaches Andrew and holds the gun up within the man's line of sight "I know, cuz I'm the one that gave it to you." he says as Andrew intakes a nervous breath. "But you gotta admit, that was a damn good shot." says Jason and is met by some muted laughter from the other Horsemen.

Andrew's heart leaps into his throat as he stammers "Look we don't mean you any harm, we just..."

"Shhhh, just relax..." says Jason cutting him off. The Hunter places his hand on Andrew's shoulder and studies the other man's facial features for a few brief moments and smirks "Your Human...he's Human!" Jason shouts to the rest of his Bikers.

"You sure boss, these motherfuckers can be sneaky." yells back one of the bikers.

"Trust me, after dealing with these bastards for over twenty years, I know a fucking suck head when I see one." he says causing Andrew to relax ever so slightly "But unfortunately my friend that just means your in the wrong place at the wrong time. Tough luck, huh." says Jason as he shoves the handgun into the stomach of the driver and brutally fires off three shots at point blank range, all three bullets exiting Andrew's back, leaving gaping and gruesome wounds. Andrew's body than slumps to the ground, blood rapidly pooling into a large puddle under his fallen form. Jason than points the gun towards the back door of the limo "Listen up blood sucker! I'm gonna give you exactly one chance to get out of the car with your hands in the air. You don't give us any trouble and I might just go easy on you."

A few seconds of anticipated silence tick by and Jason smirks again "Typical...Ralphie, get over here Prospect! Now's your time to shine."

One of the men removes his helmet and gets off his bike to reveal a young blonde man in his early twenties. This is Ralph, a fresh faced youth who had desperately wanted to join the Biker Club and was prospecting with them for the past six months. He also knew about the group's vampire slaying side hustle. As he dismounts, he is handed a large fully automatic MP-5 Special with extended magazine by another biker, Jack. Ralph takes the weapon and makes his way over to Jason.

"Here you go Ralph, this is what you've been waitin for. How long you been prospecting with The Horsemen?" asks Jason.

"Six months boss." says Ralph, a mix of apprehension and excitement in his voice.

"Goddamn, six months. Well here it is. Graduation night. Inside that car is power like you've never felt. The first taste of a vampire's blood is a rush the likes of which you can't even imagine. Every sensation hitting you all at once. Your instantly stronger, faster and more agile. It's honestly better than sex, well, almost...and all you gotta do is pull the trigger."

Ralph's eyes go wide as he smiles with hesitation. He looks down at the rifle than back up at Jason.

"C'mon Ralphie boy, you can do this! You wanna be a Horseman don't ya?" yells Jack.

Ralph glances over at the limo, a steeled and determined look suddenly washing over his eyes. He takes aim and sprays the vehicle with an unmerciful barrage of automatic gunfire. After a few seconds, the broken down limo is completely pelted with bullet holes, the front and side windows being left a shattered mess. Ralph keeps his finger tight on the trigger until the magazine runs dry, after which he is left breathless, slowly lowering the weapon. The rest of the bikers cheer adulation.

"Jack, Tommy...dig out that fucking corpse. We gotta give our brand new Horseman his first taste of the Juice." says Jason.

 

[Worthlessplebian]

On the edge of Royal Haven, there sits the desolated, derelict house of God. Once it teemed with the bustle of church-goers and the newly-converted, alas this church passed its golden hour long, long ago. Now it plays host to an unholy creature. One who burned with an irony since the day his unlife began. He had disappeared, this creature-no, vampire, into its bowels. This weird-crested, cruel-fanged vampire enwrapped in vestments that have also seen better days.

The cracked walls to the church paid no resistance to the loud-clanging of the metal dish being tossed by Cynthia. With ear-structures as his, it wasn't difficult to hear that. The priest stopped. Awkwardly he scratched at his toughened neck with pointed claws. He felt terrible for the poor girl. A victim such as he, a victim to the night's ageless predators. Yet the priest sees a light, a defiant fire in her eyes. He had hope that she'd be one of the better kindred.

His feet meet steps and his vestments flowed in tandem. From the darkness, darker than the clothes he wore, he emerged from the crypt. For the past few decades, this level had been his home and work place. A key, rusted, crooked, and cracked, was pulled from within Alun's sleeves by one of his ancillary arms. He slotted the lock then twisted it gently so as to not shatter the fragile item. Two arms from the same side stretches across the door, rotted it yawns from the decay.

The obfuscated eyes beneath the veneer of skin greet Cynthia. He had only disappeared for a moment, but it was beneficial to at least retrieve nourishment for the fledgling. The plastic pouch of sealed blood, blood bags as they're referred to by today's standards, such a concept was still foreign to Alun. He lived through the invention's creation yet he still cannot believe it.

The bag contoured beneath the gentle grasp of his claws. Just as he was about to offer it however, something or someone had disturbed the dead peace.

"Please, my child, Reverend or Father would suffice." The unseemly maw tenderly corrected the girl with an unnatural soothing tone. Perhaps he deludes himself by correcting her; still caught up in his antiquated thoughts of being a parish priest. Before her arrival, he used to deliver sermons to the vacate pews to which she now occupied. An attempt to hold onto his humanity, to draw a wedge and not to let it be consumed by the Beast within.

Normally, he wouldn't answer this man's... No, he is not... A man. The cracks in the church's gnarled, wooden doors let Alun see enough to know that he was scarred with grooved lines up and down his face. But he is inhuman, still, why would anyone come to this abode. How did anyone except for their kind know he was here? It matters not, he supposes.

He motioned for Cynthia to go deeper along the nave. Safety in distance. He pulled back the door, but did not step through it. Instead he remained behind it as it creaked open. His voice calls. Disarming and inviting. "A sluggard’s appetite is never filled, but the desires of the diligent are fully satisfied. Proverbs 13:4. My son, I believe this to be to both our benefits, no?" One of Alun's ancillary hands swam up to morph his chords and lips, to adapt a human's features. His features. "Now, my son, wherefore do you seek me?"


Athanas CloudySkyLoftyMoon

 

[Darrian_Gabriel]

The grand ballroom went into stunned silence as Elias and his wife burst onto the scene. Sherriff Canarvon crosses his arms with just a hint of impatience on his face as Eshara looks on in a more scheming sort of way. The diabolical wheels begin to turn in her head as she plants her tongue inside her cheek. The ancient vampires continue with their theatrics until they finally take a seat, right next to Eshara no less. As a matter of cordiality she leans in slightly to address Ash.

"A marvelous dress m'lady, so good to see you at the proceedings." says Eshara.

Canarvon clears his throat as if to get back the rooms attention "Welcome Lord Elias and m'Lady, always a pleasure to grace us with your presence in these hallowed halls. However we are still missing one key delegate in Master Draven. But as time is short I make a motion to exclude him from these proceedings. Excessive tardiness will not be tolerated in my Elysium, such are the actions unbecoming of the Camarilla. Will anyone second the motion?"

"I second that Sherriff." says Balk.

"Alright, and a third?" asks Canarvon.

"I shall third the motion Sherriff." says another vampire in the far end of the table named Karst of the LaSombra Clan.

"Very well, Francis Draven has been excluded, so deems this Special Elysium."

"Esteemed Sherriff, if you would but give him a few more minutes, I'm sure Francis is on..." Eshara says trying to sound concerned, but knowing full well the she alone is responsible for what was happening to Draven even as they spoke.

But she is immediately cut off by Canarvon "Silence Lady Eshara! This council has spoken! Draven has no one else to blame but himself."

Eshara bows her head slightly out of respect as she feigns being put back in her place. However she couldn't help but form the faintest of half cocked grins on the side of her mouth "All according to plan..." she silently thought to herself.

"Now than delegates, let us get to the heart of the matter. Its quite a well known fact that several weeks ago we lost our Prince. When I was making my way to my downtown offices, a special package was delivered to my front entrance. This package..."says Canarvon as he places a dull brown box with the remnants of broken packing tape onto the table in front of him. "Imagine my shock when I opened it and reached inside." he says as he pulls out the severed and mummified head of Jhardi Mehmed, former Camarilla Prince of Royal Haven.

The room echoes with various gasps and shocked hollers of the variety of Kindred that fill the room.

"Who would dare to commit such disrespect to the Camarilla!!!" shouts Balk as he raises out of his seat.

"I share your outrage Master Balk as should the rest of us. But sadly the disrespect doesn't stop there. Inside the mouth of what was formerly our grand Prince was a crudely scrawled note which simply read Happy Halloween from the Tooth Fairy."

Eshara places one of her gloved hands over her mouth, again feigning disbelief "Absolute insanity, who would do such a thing?"

Canarvon clenches his fists "I don't know, but I fully intend to find out. As Master Balk said this is a disgusting afront to not only the Camarilla, but Kindred society as a whole! But duty comes before vengeance. All of you were specifically invited to this Special Elysium because there have been five distinct nominees proposed by the Clans of who will ascend to the throne of Prince of Royal Haven in Jhardi's stead. Well four now as Draven has been excluded. The nominees are as follows." Canarvon pulls out a small slip of paper from his pocket and begins to read aloud "Lord Elias Alabaster of Clan Tzimisce, Fourth Generation. Caras Hester of Clan LaSombra, Tenth Generation. Jerimiah Balk of Clan Tremere, Eighth Generation...and finally Eshara Krishna of Clan Toreador, I..." the Sherriff suddenly stops "Well, I seem to not have your generational data here Lady Eshara. What exact generation are you again?"

Balk smiles deviously "Yes I'd like to know that myself."

Eshara intakes a sharp breath as she wipes her chin. She needed to come up with something fast "Yes well..."

Eccentric_Undead Karcen

 

[Eccentric_Undead]

Elias Alabaster

Karcen Witherbrine26 Worthlessplebian CloudySkyLoftyMoon Athanas Darrian_Gabriel
​

After making sure his wife was properly sat down and pushed in, the massive Tzimisce finally took his seat next to her. To be honest, it was clear that this was quite important. Of course his name was known around the wonderful political system of kindred. However, nobody really called on him. This being because he made himself incredibly clear that he wanted to live in peace with his wife. There was never really a time where calling him was necessary or worth the risk. People didn't want to cross him. As far as he and his wife go, they were some of the most powerful people around. Of course, given their marriage, it had made them both a bit stronger. Ash was not exactly weak when it came to magical power. Elias himself was a feared fixture in kindred society. He was shocked that more people were here than he expected. Most of them did their best to avoid him. Of course, there was always the option that none of them knew he was coming. Either way, he found himself quite intrigued by the intricacies of what was happening right now.

"She's a thin blood." Elias made quick to answer them in his own head, turning to the power hungry youngling and taking a sniff "Barely over 20 years old if I'm correct." The massive monstrous figure began to laugh. It was so incredibly funny. After a moment of chuckling he lifted one of his arms, using his sharp tail to cut his wrist. The intoxicating scent of his crimson blood filled the air. It was ancient. The liquid slowly poured into his wife's glass, he always made sure to keep her well fed. However, this was clearly a power move. Showing everyone in attendance that he was probably the most potent individual here. Aside from only his wife. It was unclear how old Ash was, but he was at least the same age as him.

After he had filled her glass to the brim, he used his incredible skills to fix his wound. It was as if he had never cut himself. He folded his hands in front of him, the second pair simply resting on the table "I'm sorry, but don't you find it kind of hilarious that the best the Toreador could send was a hapless thin blood child? I guess it must go to show how desperate for kindred that specific clan is." Now having a lovely conversation with himself in his head. He didn't much care for clan life, but he had to admit that this was funny.

His eyes turned to the sheriff. It was an incredibly unsettling site. A pristine human face that showed barely any emotion, simply staring at him as the monstrous mouth below uttered words. There was a chill in the air. Suddenly he had become very defensive and angry looking. The very power he wielded and influence he had within the world seem to come crashing down on everyone in attendance "I, nor my wife, affiliate with the Camarilla. Your old Prince could not control us. Your current status cannot control us." His head tilted a bit "So let me ask you sheriff. If you show attitude and disrespect in my wifes presence again, who will stop me from turning you into a piece of furniture?" his voice became deep and graveled, showing just how displeased he was with this level of courtesy. He stood up slowly, looking around the room, making sure they each could tell just how angry he was "Keep in mind children, I pride myself on Old world hospitality. As we are here, we are your guests. Treat us as such."

After a moment he sat down, looking to his wife again "My love, have you any idea who would want to kill the crown Prince and succeed his throne?"

 

[Karcen]

Ash
Location: Elysium
Mentions: Eccentric_Undead Darrian_Gabriel ​

" It is good to see somone here knows true art neonate " Ash said her Tone friendly to the young thin blood. Many her age would see a youngster of any generation let alone a thin blood talking to them as some kind of disgusting event. They had all been neonates and it did not pay well to always lookdown on the young. Still as said those words Ash activated her auspex powers to screy the aura of the thin blood and saw it was hidden. The other vampires showed up fine.

Ash's attention was drawn to the sherif who had slipped up big time. In the modren nights the camarilla was the Noble could and in court you needed to know your place and how to pick your words. The sheriff was not the prince nor the keeper yet he called this place his. He had shown that he was not aware where he stood and who he really thought was in charge. The dead prince was not really a shock and ash didn't bother to pretend, but the mind revealed revealed the little neonate was.

Those two facts gave Ash a pretty good idea what had happened to the prince and well it was sloppy very sloppy. While nothing she had was proof it was very damning and it wasn't like the dead wouldn't tell her his secrets. The biggest surprise was her husband starting to laugh and showing off before the others. He likely had figured it out or just found the thin bloods nomination funny which it was. The only way it could be more funny was if she had been a ventrue.venture.

Ash took a sip of the blood as her husband spoke and she decided to use the moment to chat with the neonate. With telepathic communication they coukd speak privately. " Sloppy neonate very sloppy. Still impressive given your age. I hope you have a fall guy in place " Ash mentally told the thin blood showing she knew what was up or had guessed more accurately and more importantly she wasn't going to tell. What the neonate warranted final death in the camarilla but Ash wasn't one of them and it used to happen far more often than it did now with the path of humanity.

While she spoke to the thin blood outwardly Ash calmly smiled as her husband spoke. While he might be clear with his wording as the sherif had accidently been ge meant to say every word. The sherif would know one person who if they became prince would put him in the dog house for sure.

" Please do not get to worked up my love " Ash said having no fear of continuing the displays of her and her husband despite any warnings. " The young are want to play king and they just get to excited to pretend to be the godkings like their sires" She continued again looking down on the system by comparing it to what it had been and likely never could be again.

" Anyways in this case sherif what does generation matter or do we all agree my husband should be prince by being a Methuselah? Your system choses by more than age so we can leave that matter aside let the worthy rule. Which is still my husband even if he dosent want to say so " a Ash said saving the thin blood while honestly promoting her husband who she knew would be a good prince but had as much intrest as her.

" As for who would want to kill him my love, we can ask him. Whoever did it was sloppy never know when a hecata or somone skilled with the dead will show up. I can gather his last memories if the sherif dosent mind a third party looking at the dead and not just his men " Ash explained throwing a lot of doubt at the sherif for his secrecy and how he has seemingly thought himself the roller already. If he denied her then he would be saying he was guilty he was making sure he got the answers he wanted and would was trying to control everyone.

 

[Athanas]

Alexander dared not raise his head as the voice spoke, concerned that the involuntary flinch at the church's iconography might tip off this odd Kindred. as to his nature. The odds of that were low, admittedly-his bloodline was one of the more obscure ones, but even so, unnecessary risks were folly when there already were so many perfectly necessary ones in store. The man's opening remark inspired painfully little confidence-nutters who spout bible verses unnecessarily are usually fanatics of the worst sort. Still, there was no attack, nor any overt discipline usage-he supposed that was fortunate enough. Some ally or another could be sneaking up on him, but he doubted he could hear them, anyway-obfuscated or otherwise. Such were the perils of consorting with the unseen-frequently, many of the things you commune with, tend to follow you back...


The man's first comment merited an understanding nod. "Of course. This is highly irregular, anyway, I would've done much the same."

He took another long, thoughtful drag from the cigarrete, planning what he intended to say in his mind so as to foster some rudimentary rapport with this strange Kindred. When he spoke again his voice held perhaps a bit more exhaustion than he would've liked. "Normally I'd have written a letter or something to that extent, but with the whole city being in turmoil after the Prince's death, there's no time for the usual pleasantries." He seemed to consider something for a few moments before adding: "You have been made aware that the Prince has been assassinated, yes?"


With a shrug, he flicked the cigarrete onto the ground, a steel-toed boot stomping on it to extinguish it. From the inside of one of his coat pockets, he retrieved a small notepad and a pen, clicking it open and shut thoughtfully a few times before settling on the former state. "I'm Alexander, of the Nosferatu. Newcomer to the city, yet freshly thrust headfirst into it's troubles." He started, with a small chuckle, trying to appear as affable as he reasonably could, given the circumstances. "Investigating the places that the sheriff is too squeamish or too bored to go look into."

There. That served as a sufficiently good introduction, right? Times like these, he deeply regretted not taking the time to develop his gift of Presence. Things would be much easier if he could seem preternaturally friendly. If he survived long enough, he could try...

"Could I have your name and Clan? I will go out on a limb and assume you're unaffiliated with any sect-any sect you'd tell me about, anyway. Do you claim Domain here? And if so, how far out does it extend?"

There was a gunshot in the distance. Normally nothing to fret about, since Royal Haven was by no means a safe city. But it was a little odd. What kind of self respecting gang would have turf wars here, of all places? Could it be in some way related to the assassin? Or another fresh variety of problem he'd have to contend with? He ignored it for now, refocusing on the 'investigation', his hand idly clicking the pen. He found the repetitive motion somewhat relaxing, in spite of the usual noise that surrounded his head. At least it wasn't nearly as loud as a lot of other times. He presumed the infernal like being around churches about as much as he does, which is to say, not at all.

"While we're at it, I am similarly obliged to ask: Are there any other Kindred present, or who similarly haven or hold territory here? Just so I can know how many people are supposed to be here, and how many might be...hiding, per se."


CloudySkyLoftyMoon Worthlessplebian

 

[Worthlessplebian]

The Priest behind the door—like an impromptu confessional booth, patiently heard out this Kindred's inquiries. He could not tell which clan he belonged to, but sufficient evidence contested that this man wouldn't be a trifle to deal with, should it come to that. Either he is armed with a deadly weapon or is skilled enough to be trusted by his betters, whoever it is that they are, but Alun loathes hostility, especially now.

At the very least, he is a practical sort proven by his opening remark.

The Priest's arms dropped then draped back into his dark vestments. The quick work on his vocals was abandoned as soon as Alun confirmed that he need not mask his presence. At the first question, Alun sucked dryly the air through his pointed teeth, making a type of sibilant hiss. "Those were the rumours along the branch, my son, your word validated them." He has his connections in the city, plus people talk of all sorts of things to someone they unconsciously trust.

He sees through this deputy's attempts at appearing gregarious, practical, and less of a danger. Alun pointed out to himself that only ONE of those three qualities are confirmed, the rest are up for debate. But he's only accomplishing his task set forth by the Sheriff so he cannot fault the Nosferatu. When asked of his origins, the jagged-maw priest nodded his head, minding his crest not scratch against the wooden door. "Reverend Alun Pritchard, of Clan Tzimisce, my son. And you are right to assume, I am unaffiliated with any and all sects or organisations that concurrently rule or vie for Royal Haven. As for my domain," He uttered the word with a hint of revulsion. "There is only one King and one Kingdom, His, but I am the shepherd and caretaker of this parish. This Church, the graveyard behind it, and the garden extending to the crumbled wall are under my vigil."

The arching, chiropteran ear-structures on Alun's head twitched as the reverberating gunshot sound caressed the area. To him, it sounded like someone banging a metal pan in another room, to others, it could've been more muffled. He'll have to investigate the disturbance later, the good holyman does not tolerate such violence in his presence, especially if wayward sons and daughters engage in barbarous acts of criminality.

"Territory? I cannot say, I have been the sole Kindred for decades here, there is no one that holds territory for miles. Kindred and kine come and go, either camping out at the edge of the city, away from prying eyes, or seeking my welfare. I shall also not answer if anyone is hidden here, both out of obligation to my neutrality and a respect for my flock's privacy. Plus it'd prove... Deleterious if word comes out I give away information."

Athanas CloudySkyLoftyMoon

 

[Athanas]

The shift in the Reverend's voice was a little strange, and also similarly seemed to serve no purpose. Was he simply trying to make an impression, perhaps? But there were most definitely better ways to go about this, no?


So far the other man had seemed friendly enough. In touch sufficiently with his humanity that he could hold a conversation and cite complex verses. The fact that no particular trickery was attempted thus far painted him also as a man not overwhelmingly prone to violence. Still, certain assurances eluded him as of yet. Gah, if only he could see the fucker…


If his heart were to still function, it would most certainly skip a beat upon hearing of the Reverend's clan. One of the Degenerates. This could not bode well. He imagined he had no room to judge, himself. The preacher could be an oddity, like himself. But it wasnt exactly a bet he was eager to take.


"It's quite impressive to find one of you that appears this reasonable." He finally said after a pause alloted to writing down the information received. "Meaning no offense, of course. And now that I have been made aware, I apologize once again for my failure to follow proper guest right. I had not been made aware."


Although much of his occult knowledge was intended for the darkest of deeds, sometimes less suspect information could be drawn upon as well.


Another thoughtful pause as he examined the answers. The man's unwillingness to answer about others may as well have been an answer of it's own, he reasoned. But the lack of other Kindred territories was encouraging, at least. Should his spies from the shadows detect any around here, he could rest easy knowing they were free game.


"I simply asked in order to avoid misunderstandings. I imagine, if I were to assume a ragged kindred hiding around here was some kind of City Gangrel and staked them into torpor, only for them to turn out to be your friend, it would not be greatly appreciated. Even so, however, I respect your answer."


He still could not be sure of the man's intentions, and that bothered him grievously. If only he could see him, his sins would betray his psyche to the Baali, as they do to all men. But lacking the ability to employ such powers now, he could only rely upon his limited conversational skills.

"A bit of a personal question, if I may. This is not related to any manner of investigation, so, feel free to ignore it, but the more I hear you speak, the more my curiosity grows-how come you are so…invested in your role as keeper of this church? God, and those that are devoted to him…do not have much love for the likes of us. Justifiably, perhaps, but…antithetical all the same."

The confusion in Alexander's voice was genuine, if somewhat suppressed-God's wrath was something that was as inescapable for him as the demons that howled in his ears, so he struggled greatly to understand why anyone even remotely sane of their kind would bother offering prayers that were doomed to fall on deaf ears.

His musings were interrupted again, as a barrage of automatic fire, loud and aggressive enough to be heard even by his distracted senses, followed up the previous gunshot. Alarmed ever so slightly, he shifted, standing up. "This…isn't normal for this area, is it? It sounds like a future problem in the making."


He gave an earnest sigh. What was it now?Why could he never catch a break?



Worthlessplebian CloudySkyLoftyMoon

 

[CloudySkyLoftyMoon]

Cynthia lacked the heightened senses of the two elder kindred and so she remained less-than blissfully unaware. The thin blood had settled in behind a row of dusted and decaying pews, silent as a church mouse and just as skittish.

She wished Father Alun would be less forward with the harsh realities of a kindred. The first time he’d revealed his true form she’d stained the floors of the church with an embarrassing accident and even now she averted her eyes, his visage too unsettling for her gaze. However much she wanted to deny the truth it was becoming increasingly difficult to do so. She had dared to confirm with her hands what her eyes had seen where the father’s appearance was concerned; each bizarre boney spur and grotesque protrusion felt as real as could be. Daydreamer she might be, but disconnected from reality she was not. And yet, right now, she truly wished that weren’t the case.

Cynthia dug a finger in her ear. No ear wax and her ears weren’t clogged. So, she had heard that correctly? Had that man outside just casually admitted he would’ve staked her!? Surely it took more than just being raggedy to deserve a staking, right? That was like, totally uncalled for, no? Were all vampires so violently inclined?

The girl shuddered and made herself smaller. She had entertained thoughts about revealing herself to the new arrival, provided he wasn’t a cop or something, but now those thoughts had been thoroughly dashed.

Cynthia bit her lip. A soft gurgle had her clutching at her stomach. All the nerves must’ve upset her stomach. It increasingly appeared that there was wisdom in Alun’s warnings and his sheer directness. She’d have little time for denial if she encountered other vampires.

Among the things Alun had mentioned were vampiric superpowers, the things that allowed him to look...like he did. For her own sake, Cynthia hoped these powers came and that they did so quickly! She’d need them.

 

[Darrian_Gabriel]

As Jack and Tommy moved closer to the bullet riddled limo, suddenly an ear piercing roar emits from the interior of the vehicle as the door is unexpectedly kicked clear off his hinges by the Malkavian within. The door flies off with such force that it spins through the air at perfect level and decapitates Tommy, leaving the Biker's now headless body standing erect for a split second before slumping to the ground.

"Holy shit!!!" yells Jack as he stammers back in shock.

The vampire leaps out of the car and over the bikers' head's as he disappears into the night beyond.

"Great, I was hoping for some action tonight...Horsemen, you know what to do!" says Jason as he retrieves a rod like instrument from inside his jacket. He gives the instrument a flick of his wrist which flips open a longer extension revealing a baton like weapon about two and a half feet in length and tipped with a razor sharp spike on the end. The rod part of the weapon than begins to glow an iridescent blue hue, surges of electrical energy occasionally traveling up and down the length of the shaft. He looks at Ralphie with a boyish smirk on his face "Solar irradiated Electro Rod, never leave home without it." he says as the other bikers follow suit, flipping out there own Electro Rod weapons.

"What about me, I don't have one of those things!" says Ralph in a panic.

Jason shakes his head slightly as he tosses the young Prospect another extended magazine "Like I said Ralphie, graduation night. You want one of these bad boys, you gotta earn it. Now I suggest you reload. Your gonna need every bullet."

"Oh shit..."mutters Ralph as he nervously snaps the ammo mag into place and hurriedly aims his gun out into the darkness, every muscle twitching with anticipation.

"Horsemen let's go huntin!!!" yells Jason.

The bikers slowly fan out but are careful not to stray to far out of sight of one another. The surrounding countryside becomes eerily quiet as the Hunters remain hyper focused, alert to every sound around them.

"How you holdin up Ralphie?" yells Jack almost jokingly.

"I'm gonna get this son of a bitch! I'm gonna be a Horseman!" he yells back defiantly.

Suddenly out of nowhere, Draven leaps out of the shadows and grabs the hapless young Prospect, sinking his fangs into the young man's throat. Ralph screams in agony and tries to squeeze off a few rounds in a desperate attempt to defend himself. But all in vain as he is dragged into the darkness, his yells for help mingled with the fading sounds of gunfire.

Jason looks on and breaths hard "So much for graduation kid." he says as he again reaches inside his jacket only this time pulling out a small glass vile filled with what looks like blood. He unscrews the top of the vile and downs the red liquid in one gulp, some of the crimson fluid dripping down the corner of his mouth.

Jack nods in silent agreement as he too pulls out an identical vile and drinks it's red contents.

After a few moments of more silence, Jason challenges the vampire, yelling out into the night "Well c'mon bloodsucker! Are you gonna fight us or just hide all night like a fucking coward!"

"Yea c'mon you fanged face pussy, we don't got all fuckin night!" yells Jack.

A few seconds later, Jason catches the faintest sound of twigs snapping next to him. With lightning fast reflexes, he ducks to one side, avoiding Draven's sudden leap from the darkened brush. Jason than goes on the attack, delivering a series of punishing kicks to the vampire's face, torso and stomach. Giving Draven no time to recover, the Hunter than lunges, wildly swinging his Electro Rod aiming for the vampire's throat. Draven however is to quick and effortlessly dodges the weapon. He than grabs a hold of Jason's arm and clean sweeps the Hunter's legs right out from under him causing the man to land flat on his back. Draven than delivers a series of brutal kicks of his own directly to Jason's stomach. Although getting the wind thoroughly knocked out of him, Jason manages to catch the vampire's leg on his last kick and stabs the creature in his calf with the spike of the Electro Rod. Draven yells in pain as the weapon sends a surge of electricity through his body causing him to stumble back with the Electro Rod still embedded in his leg, continuing to deliver it's voltage. Jason leaps to his feet and again goes on the attack, swinging with all his might to deliver a series of savage punches straight to Draven's face, actually managing to draw blood. But before the Hunter could do anymore damage, his fist is caught in mid air by the vampire. Draven lifts the Hunter up with one arm and body slams him onto the dirt road not unlike a professional wrestler. The Kindred than steps on the Hunter's throat and begins to apply pressure.

"I have to admit, your strong for a filthy Kine!"

"...and just think, this is only our first date." Jason coughs out with a chuckle.

This enrages Draven as he again lifts the Hunter up off the ground, only this time hurling him through the air like rag doll causing the Ghoul to crash into the side of the limo. The vampire begins to stalk towards his fallen prey when he is stabbed from behind by Jack who shoves his Electro Rod just underneath Draven's neck. More electricity surges through the vampire's body as he cries out. Another biker leaps onto the vampire and stabs him a second time but this time right through his left temple. Draven shakes violently as parts of his body suddenly catch fire from the intense electricity. Jack leaves his weapon sticking out of the vampire's neck as he pulls out two Glocks from his waist band and brutally begins to pump bullets into Draven's head from near point blank range, spraying blood everywhere. In the meantime Jason recovers enough to look on at the unfolding scene seeing Draven on fire and his head being shot up in a bloody mess. The Hunter, not one to be robbed of his kill, than pulls out a seven inch Bowie Knife from a side sheath and charges back into the fray. Just as Jack empties his Glocks into Draven's cranium, Jason mercilessly jams the Bowie directly up under Draven's chin, the blade clearly visible through the vampire's open mouth as even more blood pours out of the grotesque wounds. In a frenzy the rest of the bikers descend on the fallen vampire, stabbing the creature hundreds of times leaving the corpse gutted like a massacred deer on the side of the road. After the dust settles, the Hunters look down on their prey, the body being left as an unrecognizable mangled mess of flesh, blood and gore.

"That's a waste of a lotta good Vitae..." says Jason catching his breath. He slowly walks back over to his motorcycle and retrieves a small pair of pliers as he walks over to the body "Details." he says as he begins to rip the fangs out of what's left of Draven's mouth.

Worthlessplebian Athanas CloudySkyLoftyMoon

 

[Darrian_Gabriel]

" Anyways in this case Sherriff what does generation matter or do we all agree my husband should be prince by being a Methuselah? Your system choses by more than age so we can leave that matter aside let the worthy rule. Which is still my husband even if he doesn't want to say so. " As for who would want to kill him my love, we can ask him. Whoever did it was sloppy never know when a Hecata or someone skilled with the dead will show up. I can gather his last memories if the Sherriff doesn't mind a third party looking at the dead and not just his men "

Eshara glanced over at Ash and cocked a slight grin in silent gratitude of the Hecata coming to her defense, and coupled with the telepathic probing, the young Toreador obviously knew the vampire mistress was onto her secret. In an impressive subject switch, Eshara was even more pleased when Ash inquired about the Prince's severed head, to which the wealthy young heiress immediately capitalized on "I think that's an excellent idea Sherriff. Lady Ash is a skilled Hecata with the fortitude and wealth of experience at her disposal. Who better to find out what exactly happened to our beloved Prince than a Kindred of her standing?"

Ash and Eshara's misdirection seemed to work perfectly as the Sherriff did indeed forget all about the generational line of questioning "With all due respect Lady Ash, even though I'm sure your unmatched in memory probing talents, I don't think it quite necessary as I have the finest investigative and inquiry teams in the city. Not to mention that by turning over such important evidence breaks Camarilla protocol and belies my duty as a Sherriff. Jhardi was a good friend as well as my Prince. I find it apt that I be the one to locate the loathsome vermin that did this to him."

"Oh come now Sherriff, don't let your egotistical hubris get in the way of results. If Lady Ash can aid in the investigation than why not take advantage of such a valuable resource? I'm sure it's what Prince Mehmed would have wanted." says Karst at the far end of the table.

"I couldn't have said it better Master Karst." says Eshara shamelessly egging it on.

"I think I agree..." said another Kindred delegate as nearly the entire room sound off in unison agreement.

Canarvon slightly narrows his eyes as he now realizes he'll have no other choice but to turn over the head to Ash, if for nothing else than to try and keep the fragile harmony "Very well, I know when I've been over ruled. I shall have the Prince's head specially packaged in a formaldehyde casing to better preserve it's integrity for your use M'Lady. I'll have it delivered to your personal villa within the city as soon as we're adjourned...and to further show that I'm willing to be reasonable, allow me to make a personal gesture of my own." The Sherriff casually gets up from his seat and walks over to Elias. Canarvon draws his ceremonial saber from it's scabbard, a symbol highly indicative of his status as a Camarilla Sherriff , drops to one knee and holds up the sword towards Elias "As a gesture to mend any fences my Lord Elias and to apologize for any disrespect you might've perceived on my part, please accept my Sherriff's Saber as a token of my good will." says Canarvon as he lays the weapon at Elias' feet.

"Here, here!!!" says Karst.

"Well on that note, I would say to all of our esteemed delegates...the nominees have presented to you. Now it's up to you to inform your respective clans and we'll hold a Camarilla wide vote to establish just who our next Prince will be. The next Elysium will be in exactly thirty days time. You have till than to decide. I hereby declare this special council formally adjourned!" he says as the various Kindred begin to mill about and make small talk and to discuss the night's proceedings with other members. Canarvon gives Elias one last courtesy bow "If you'll excuse my Lord." he says before hastily making his way out of the ballroom flanked by several of his special guard.

Reading the room Eshara takes a que from the Sherriff, gently taking Ash's hand and bowing on one knee before her "Please accept my humble thanks M'Lady for your intervention. I am most indebted to you and your husband. As a gesture of my gratitude I extend a special invitation to my penthouse suite to both you and Lord Elias. I'm sincerely hoping you both will dine with me this evening as my honored guests."

Karcen Eccentric_Undead

 

[Worthlessplebian]

The Reverend's gothically decorated head turned agonisingly slow to see Cynthia. To see the young initiate stew in her fear, even if his eyes were obstructed by a veil of fibrocartilage, by now, he reckons that sandwich she foolishly requested would be making its way up her esophagus. She's not had the proper tutelage to know how to hold her food down and Alun hadn't the time to teach her. Ultimately, she would've vomited it up by the following morning anyway.

He hopes that she'll forgive this tutor's tardiness in her teachings.

The man, rather, the Nosferatu spoke again. He notes the deputy's pauses in his speech, Alun suspects or detects that he's writing down the information handed to him, whether on paper or those newfangled thin, obsidian slabs that emanated a glow and people pick away at with their digits for hours upon hours at a time. Sometimes, they came with winsome containers to protect their fragility.

"It is of no concern, my son. Those who number amongst my flock aren't non compos mentis. No wights or those approach their depravity will be tolerated in my presence." The Tzimisce Reverend speaks plainly, but edged with gloom towards the wayward lost souls.

The creature that was the priest then nodded and nodded at the sincerity. "I sense your curiousity, my son. Know this, I do not often talk to others, save for those closest to me of my peculiarity—to put it in a way—so let the porthole into my mind be opened for once." Air is dragged screaming into his lungs through his flat nostrils and between the jagged teeth, a type of habit from when he was alive.

"I cannot speak for them, but God does love us. Even we, who are born from Cain's apostate vitae, are not unworthy of His grace and the grace of His son, the Good Shepard. It is my faith that sustains me, perhaps more so than the blood I siphon from the pouches or His creations, the animals. My faith is who I am and who I always will be. Through the faith, I am renewed in mind, body, and soul, and my heart, now long atrophied, beats and flows kindness from it as easily as a river flows." He pauses now to let the information rest. "On the topic of our Embrace into these creatures of eternal night: Even before it, we were sinners, born from Adam's sinful stock as humans, you see. So it matters not whether we are of Adam or Cain's, our faith must continue."


The sounds of automatic gunfire swiftly cut Alun's preaching, now the vampire was beginning to worry. "No, no, it is not." He answered Alexander's query. "I think time's enough passed." One foot steps from behind the door, covered in the darkness of his holy garb. Then a clawed hand, fleshy-pink with claws as sharp as daggers, gripped the creaky door's corner. The door moved wider as the hand pulled it away.

His grim visage, an organic head crest and a maw with a row of coffin nail teeth, was presented to the Nosferatu. "I shall investigate, if this disturbance falls within your vocation then you may accompany." He then turns his head. "Cynthia," He calls not quite with a yell, but larger than a whisper. "Remain here within the safety of the church or if bravery overtakes you and you wish to see more of this new world, then accompany us but hide."

CloudySkyLoftyMoon Athanas

 

[Athanas]

Alexander very visibly tensed as he heard someone retch from within the church. A ghoul plagued with malady, perhaps? Or maybe the Tzimisce was creating some manner of mortifying experiment, and the mere sight of it was causing his other test subjects to break down. Not that he cared particularly much about the moral implications of the whole thing: Having spent a lot of time around other Baali, Fomori, Demons, and Black Spirals, he had seen quite the collection of atrocities, incredible in both their creativity and potency. Who was he to judge if the Fiend wanted to live up to his clan's grim reputation? No, his concerns were far more practical, about the possible numbers this Tzimisce might be able to bring to bear if angered.

The conviction in the other man's tone is palpable, and Alexander makes a mental note of it. Good man, this Revered, but clearly ready to brutalize those he deemed unworthy of his hospitality. He supposed that much made sense-pious or no, he was still beholden to the Beast, as were all of them.

"Seems reasonable to me. Very well, you seem sensible enough for your judgement to be worth considering." Another pause, interrupted by the scribbling of pen on notepad.
It's interesting to see that the priest seems willing to talk about his, well, priestly-was that a word? Alexander was not sure if that was a word-demeanor. The question was largely asked in a rare moment of sincerity for him, without much hope of actually getting an answer across. Well, give thanks for small blessings. He focuses on the priests words, trying his best to tune out the howling.

And what fascinating things the priest is saying. Alexander tends to be a cynical man-one has to be, when confronted with the things he has to deal with-, but even he cannot help but be a little awed by Alun's whole-hearted determination. He must be very popular with the neonates, he muses bitterly. Not that Alexander would know much about what neonates usually enjoyed...

There is, however, an alarming facet to Alun's words. Any man who is so clearly and so openly, well, different from the status quo of this world of darkness would most certainly be seen as an easy mark. But the Reverend was still alive, and well. This meant that his words belied strength, the strength needed to pursue virtue in an inherently sinful world.
Overall, Alexander was left very conflicted about how he should feel about the matter. The priest commanded a certain amount of respect, even from him, for his fortitude(the mental kind-did he possess the physical kind? He couldn't tell right now), and, in that same vein, concern-for it seemed he was not afraid to do his due diligence and ensure those given to the beast were dispatched.

"...I see." He finally said, his tone of voice low. "I can't say I see things the same way, but I won't bother you by debating theology. Your opinion is intriguing, all the same."


He involuntarily shifted his center of gravity as Reverend made his intention to go investigate clear, subconsciously preparing for what might exit the Church. And he was not disappointed-a fleshcrafted freak, not big enough to be considered Zulo, but quite imposing nonetheless. Was the good preacher a follower of the Path of Metamorphosis? Did he resent his once-mortal flesh?


Rousing his accursed blood , he channeled the grim power of Hell, focusing on Alun. Let's see what you're hiding under those Vestments, Priest. Be you the kindly shepherd that you aspire towards, or are you another deluded monster?
His Beast, this accursed, infernal thing, drunk on the powers of the Antichrist, peered deep into Alun's soul, looking for the sinful weakness that doom all but the most virtuous of men. And then it howled in agony and pain as a searing light blinded it, and it's discomfort echoed in Alexander's ears, returning not triumphant but only with the most rudimentary findings. With great horror, it took only a moment for Alexander to realize why. Only one reason as to why someone could be so resilient against the powers of his accursed bloodline.

Panic seeped into him, and he turned his gaze away, trying to conceal his fear under the guise of simply putting his notepad and pen away. This was one of the faithful, that rare breed of truly devoted whose faith was potent enough to gain a strength of it's own. With but a touch, he could inflict horrifying damage on his twice-cursed flesh, if he so desired.

He forced himself to calm down. How could the Priest know? The Evil in his blood was cunning, powerful. It could hide as well as any other facet of one's soul. Even to this man of faith, he would read as nothing more than a Kindred-already deemed vile, carrying the sins of Caine. And so, when he turned back to face Alun, he forced himself to smile-both mask and mangled visage underneath.
"You bet it is. If word reaches my bosses that I left a perfectly good stone unturned, they'll force me to sustain myself on nothing but rats for a month."

From under his large overcoat, a shotgun was brandished, with slow, deliberate movements, so as to not startle the Tzimisce. "I will vanish completely when we are nearby, but do not fret-I will assist how I can. Lead on."
His curiosity was piqued as he heard Alun call towards someone. A childe? A war-ghoul, perhaps? Or something worse yet? Either what, he imagined they would be a fearsome combatant, the better to back the pair in this impromptu investigation.

Worthlessplebian CloudySkyLoftyMoon

 

[Karcen]

Ash & Elias​

Elias was entirely annoyed with this whole situation. Of course, he was rather happy with the fact that his clan put so much faith in him, but they should also know that he only wanted his peaceful life. He was sort of in a mixed bag right now. Part of him had a lot of pride, the other part was really annoyed. However, for the time being you would act as though he wasn't completely annoyed.

Elias simply looked at the sheriff as the sword was offered. He bowed his head, sort of uninterested in the whole process, mostly focusing on the fact that his wife had found a new project. Once everybody had left, Elias stood and looked over at his wife, knowing full well that she probably had a scheme working in her head. Or at the very least knew what she wanted out of this young thin blood. He smiled, one of his four hands moving down and wrapping around his wife's waist. A chuckle escaped his monstrous mouth "My, my. This young child is very polite. Surprising considering the general lack of respect most young people have." His head leaned down, quite a distance considering the height he had modified his body for generations ago. The monstrous mouth opened, his long tongue reaching out and gently dragging along his wife's neck. Despite appearances, the tongue was incredibly soft, almost as if it was built specifically for dragging across his wife's neck. Once he finished he smiled at her "A little night out might be fun. We haven't been out of the house in quite a while. Might be a perfect opportunity to show off my gorgeous wife."

"My thanks sheriff" Ash sad with a wry smirk she had won that little fight. This was a battle field just as much as any Noble court was and the more people agreed with you the more power you had. Many might only agree with you to check others power but at that moment you had it.

The thin blood seemed to get the message and jumped to move the topic away from herself. She was a cunning one and had killed or had the prince killed. The question was how far was she willing to go to solidify power? Challenging higher generations was simple enough but lower generations? That was not wise. There was a complex web of contacts and resources elders had that was lost if you got rid of them and of course you might poke something you couldn't handle.

Ash would need to make sure the neonate knew her limits what she could and should poke and what she shouldn't. Namely if this neonate might seek to challenge her husband because she thought he cared for power over one city. The little rose needed to be raised with care to know what its thorn could poke.

As the thin blood took her hand to invite her and Elias to her pent house Ash smiled softly. Then she felt her husband grab her waist. She did wonder if he saw the threat she did in the neonate. The betrayal of Giovanni had etched itself deep in Ash.

" That is because she is a smart girl and very wise " Ash said a little giggle escaping her as Elias licked her neck. In return she kissed his lower cheek. There was of course a veiled threat that she was smart because she listened and knew who had just saved her. " I am sure someone as smart as her already has the case of the prince and our missing malkavain solved " Ash continued guessing if this girl took out the prince then a competitor was nothing " I would hate for her to get overwhelmed"

Ash moved into hug the side of Elias not afraid of showing affection a weakness to many cannites in front of the neonate. Both out of love but to show Ash didn't view her as a threat. " Going out does sound fun my dear" she said looking up to Elias then to the thin blood" we will be honored to join you for dinner"

Elias wasn't exactly sure of what his wife had planned, but he did know that whatever it was would be a masterful construction of strategy and manipulation. It was kind of amazing how easily she was able to conduct others to her own whim. To be honest, Elias found it quite alluring "Well, if we are to eat, new attire is required."

Elias chuckled as he twirled his wife was minimal effort, stopping her just as she was facing him. His top arms gently guided hers around his neck, kneeling down of course. He gazed into her eyes, almost as if daring her to kiss him. His fingers moved down her arms, masterfully and elegantly slicing the sleeves off the flesh dress that he had crafted for her. His second set of hands moving from her hips down and doing the same to the massive Bell skirt. It was hard to realize that this dress was made from layers of skin, colored in blood and formed from someone who must have been at the forefront of fleshcraft. How effortlessly the fabric slit apart with his lightest of touch. There was something satisfying about watching somebody just be really good at something. Elias made the skill look like it was nothing.

His hands moved along her body and around her, never once taking his eyes from her as he continued to freehand craft the dress into something new. Rather than an old school ball dress, his hands weaved together something a bit more modern and elegant. A long sleek red dress, a slit traveling all the way up her leg. The leftover flesh turned into a long and thin veil that was attached at her shoulders, the veil looking as though it was created from spiders silk. It was hard to imagine that this dress came from the one she had entered in. What was even more masterful was the fact that not once did any of her intimate areas on the body show. He perfectly covered her, but managed to sneak a few peaks himself.

Once his work was finished his hands finally wrapped around her, pulling her close with a smile on his monstrous face "Much better. Though, I am a bit disappointed that you didn't break and kiss me. That would have been the highlight of my night." A small chuckle escaped him again, leaning just a Little closer as if to tempt her into a kiss.

A man who could sew was something every woman wanted right after one that could cook. Though being cainites the latter really wasn't all that possible. The angel uriel had made sure of that if the book of nod was true. Ash had been around a long time, but not even she was old enough to know what actually happened. No one did but Caine himself. So a man that could sew was no doubt something every cainite housewife wanted.

Ash moved as Elias needed to let him deftly cut and restricted the dress able to manipulate the flesh in ways that would make any skilled surgeon green with envy. The red dress hugging her curves reminded her how nice it was to have a body again and one that wasn't a withered corpse like she had suffered with from the day that Caine cursed her sire.

Ash chuckled at Elias and him indirectly asking for a kiss "for you one kiss is not enough" she said before moving and kissing not just his human like face but the beastly mouth below seeing no less beauty in either.

Every kiss with her was something magical. At least to him. He didn't know how he lived before she would kiss him. An absolute drug to him. Something that he just couldn't live without. When you spent centuries away from somebody you felt so close to, any little bit of contact whether it was physical or not was something to be cherished. There weren't many who could understand their situation. Only communicating through the void, past the veil. There were many times where he felt so lonely and it was her voice that kept him going. Then, when she returned, he simply could not get enough of her. To this day he still can't get enough.

With each kiss there was a sharp inhale, taking in the sweet extasy of her kiss. Then, there was a relieved breath as he pulled her closer, lifting her up and carrying her as though he were carrying a bride. He smiled and gave her neck another lick to her neck as he turned and looked at the young thin blood that Ash was so interested in "Shall we?"

 

[CloudySkyLoftyMoon]

Oh no! Don’t worry about me, Father. I’ll stay here in the cold, dank of this decrepit church. I’m sure I can find an offering pan or pry a large splinter from the benches; surely, with one of those in hand, I can fight off any heinous villains out to put a stake through my chest!

Alun would’ve been greeted with much snark and sarcasm but for better or worse, Cynthia was dreadfully preoccupied, hunched over and violently retching up the contents of her stomach. Now, usually Cynthia wasn’t in the habit of inspecting her own throw-up but in this instance, she was struck by the sudden urge as she noticed—“It’s undigested...”

It was another nail in the denial coffin; either everything Alun said was real or she was tripping out her undead mind. Cynthia presumed the former and that meant Alun’s question was no question at all, it was a no-brainer, she was obviously going!

Cynthia struggled to her feet and wiped her lips. She gathered her courage, suppressed the uneasy pangs of hunger and queasiness, and hustled out the door after Alun. Her vision was drawn to the only other person in the vicinity; without the need to hide, she could openly observe the man, the creature, the vampire. Her expression tightened, lips pressed thin, fists clenched tight—if it came to it, she was ready to fight, to defend herself from whatever fiendish intentions he might have.

On second thought...this guy was pretty tall, well-built too. Maybe she'd just...yea, there we go perfect! Careful movement and positioning placed 6 ft and 200-something lbs of whatever Alun was between her and the new vampire. With her re-positioning, Cynthia gained boundless confidence and assurance. Enough so that she re-adopted her fight stance and put on her best menacing glare.

"Come on big guy, I'll show you who gets staked!"

Worthlessplebian Athanas

 

[Darrian_Gabriel]

The sleek all black Harley-Davidson Chopper cuts across the darkened road headed straight for the nearby bright lights of Royal Haven. Jason rode at a brisk yet break neck pace as the wind whistled over his armored motorcycle jacket. He had left behind three of his bikers back at the spot where they had ambushed Draven to clean up, dismember and bury the body. As he neared the junction point to enter onto Keystone Bridge, he had a slight bit of apprehension grip his throat. He was crossing directly into the "Wraith Rider's" territory, a rival biker gang which dwarfed Jason's own "Horsemen Of War" M.C. at about one hundred members to the Horsemen's thirty or so. The two biker gangs were not exactly in the best of standing with one another and Jason crossing into the region of the Keystone was definitely in violation of the turf agreement set by both biker factions. But in order to bypass any territory violations, Jason had to completely go around the iconic bridge, adding at least thirty minutes onto his trek through Royal Haven.

"Fuck it..." he muttered to himself "I'll be over the bridge in five minutes. They'll never know I was here."

As the Hunter stopped at the first red light that led onto the multi lane expressway, he waited patiently as the other merging traffic lanes made their way onto the bridge in succession. No more than a minute after he had stopped, the unmistakable sound of two cylinder piston engines could be heard approaching from behind which made Jason curse under his breath "This is just not my fuckin night."



Four rough looking bikers on motorcycles very similar to Jason's, pull up slowly right beside him. One of the motorcyclists raises the visor on his helmet and scoffs "Your a long way from home aren't ya pony boy?"

Jason grits his teeth "Look fellas, I don't want any trouble ok. I just need to get over the bridge, I'll be outta your hair in five minutes."

"Yea well there's just one small problem with that horse fucker. One of you pony boy's comes through our turf, you gotta pay the toll."

With his patience rapidly wearing thin, Jason narrows his eyes "Whatya have in mind spook?"

"Whatever you got on you...not to mention your bike." says one of the other Riders as his fellow bikers laugh in unison.

Jason breathes hard as he smirks in a defiant tone "Alright, fair enough." he says as he quickly reaches into one of his side saddle bags and pulls out a dark green grenade and releases the ignition pin in one swift motion. "That outta do it." he says, tossing the explosive to the nearest Wraith Rider in proximity.

The biker catches the device in shock as Jason suddenly speeds away. "Oh fuck!!!" the biker shouts and with no time to react the grenade explodes in his hands blowing his arms clean off his body, killing him instantly. His three companions react in abject horror trying to shield themselves from the spray of blood that inevitably coats the sides of their bikes. After a few moments, the three remaining Riders fire up their bikes and start to give chase to the lone Hunter.

Jason tries to speed over the bridge but is blocked by heavy traffic and in no time, the Wraith Riders are on his tail "Your dead motherfucker!!!" yells one of them over the honking horns of the surrounding cars.

Knowing that he likely can't outrun the other bikers in straight high speed chase, Jason decides to drastically cut his speed in a death defying move that nearly stalls his engine out. The end result is the other three bikers shooting right past him at high speed causing them to look behind them in a double take "What the fuck?" one of them yells out.

Jason revs up his engine and roars forward. His maneuver has no placed him behind his pursuers and he is now the one chasing them. Wasting no time, he pulls one of his Glocks from his waistband and takes aim at one of the Riders. Jason shoots the man four times in the back causing him and his bike to collide with a slow moving car, which in turn causes a massive chain reaction fender bender on the bridge. It just so happens that a lone police cruiser that was also stuck in traffic, takes immediate notice of the commotion and begins to follow the bikers on the bridge. Meanwhile Jason takes aim at a second Rider, firing three more rounds into his backside, but seemingly having no effect. The Hunter speeds up and rides right along side of the Wraith Rider, shooting at the man two more times. But the other motorcyclist simply blocks the shots with his arm, metal sparks and pings becoming visible.

The Wraith Rider taps the side of his arm and lifts his visor "Double weave and reinforced Kevlar asshole! So what else you got?!"

Jason nods "Impressive..." after which he immediately pulls up to within spitting distance of the other biker, leans over and delivers a powerful kick straight to the Rider's helmet that lands with such force that the biker is knocked clean off his motorcycle sending him tumbling over the side of the bridge and down towards the black waters below. His bike skids and careens into the back of near stationary tour bus, resulting in a spectacular fire ball.

The pursuing police officer's eyes widen as he calls into dispatch "HQ this Officer Landon, come in!"

""Dispatch, go head Officer Landon..."

"I'm requesting all available units for back up on the Keystone! We gotta few bikers shootin at each other at high speeds that have already resulted in probable fatalities. I'm in pursuit now, but I need back up!" says Landon as he flicks on his siren.

"Roger that, I need all available units onto the Keystone Bridge for immediate back up in high speed pursuit!"

"Suspects seem to be on two twin piston Harley Davidsons, all black! The one in eye shot also has white racing trim along one side!" shouts Landon as he closes in on Jason and the one remaining Wraith Rider.

Hearing the blaring siren of the approaching police car, Jason looks behind him "Just perfect." As he closes the distance between himself and his one remaining adversary, he notices that multiple police vehicles are now beginning to flood onto the bridge from adjacent merging lanes, all of them in hot pursuit. Realizing that he's out of time, Jason tries to speed past the other biker but immediately falls back as the Rider begins to shoot back at the Hunter. As a result the other biker ends up striking a few innocent bystanders in another car, causing the stricken vehicle to drive through the railing and right off the side of the bridge.

"Goddammit!" says the biker.

Jason uses this moment of distraction and rides alongside his rival and delivers another powerful kick to the other biker. This causes the man to lose balance and careen into a few adjoining lanes but it does not knock him off his vehicle. Jason speeds on ahead, looks back and sees the biker has already recovered and is now once again giving chase, all the while a veritable army of police cruisers have now joined the pursuit and are hot on the heels of the two battling bikers. Knowing that he has to end this and get off the bridge fast, Jason cuts across several lanes of traffic, just barely avoiding crashing into several oncoming cars. The other biker stays on pace and follows Jason.

"Units 79 and 8, the lead suspect with the white racing trim is headed towards exit 119B, set up a blockade! Do not let him off the bridge!" yells Landon into his radio.

As Jason races towards exit 119B, his heart goes into his throat as he notices that the authorities have indeed set up a terrifying blockade on the off ramp. Two police cruisers are joined by a police prison transport truck in a seemingly impenetrable barrier.

"Oh shit..." he whispers as he closes his eyes "I'm only gonna get one shot at this!"

In an insane maneuver, Jason manages to tilt his bike all the way down to the pavement of the asphalt and with mere millimeters to spare, skids all the way under the trailer of the police truck, sending sparks in all directions. He severely scrapes his helmet, jacket as well one complete side of his bike. He skids for several more feet before righting himself. Miraculously surviving and clearing the police barrier in a once in a lifetime, death defying stunt. The other biker stops just short of the truck and skids to a halt just before colliding with the blockade. Landon and several other officers pull up and pounce of the other biker.

"On the ground and put your hands on your fucking head!" yells Landon pointing his gun at the Wraith Rider "Where's the other one?" he asks a second attending officer.

"The son of a bitch pulled an Evel Knievel right underneath the fucking truck, it was unbelievable!"

Landon looks off into the distance as he sees Jason's Chopper ride off and disappear into the bright lit streets of Royal Haven, the sound of his engine fading off into the night air.

 

[Worthlessplebian]

The eyes behind the veil of flesh gazed at Cynthia's diseased vomitting. Almost as if the Father could peel back the skin-flaps of her head and pick at the brain. Charming, he thinks. She should've listened, heeded his warnings but if they cannot take your word then it is best for them to learn on their own.

Then Alun felt... a cold caress against his hardened, pink skin. His head wheeled back to face Alexander, but his sight stretched past the sheriff's deputy to the horizons. The oddest of sensations. As if someone clutched an ice-cube between their fingers and trailed a line of icewater up and down his spiked spine. His head shifted almost barely, but it was unmistakable that Alun was investigating Alexander now. The dark-clothed Priest eyeballed the notepad shifting about.

And another thing... the Father noted of the Kindred's features. An afflicted ugliness influenced by their Cainite blood. It lent credence to his claim of being a Nosferatu. Except he wasn't about to fully-trust the man, he'd hope Cynthia would stay within the confines of the Church. For two reasons, one because its cellar could be barricaded and due to his known-presence—his dwellings are protected by himself, his animal vedettes, and by God's grace.

Alun slid a finger under his chin and he smiled — haunting when it seemed as though his jaw stretched, that lipless, toothy maw. "I profess, I am fascinated by the advancements in gunnery. If I had not been a Priest, then I would've been involved in their creation." He pointed a clawed finger to the steel-barreled implement.

"Very well, I shall lead on." He confesses that Alexander is proving to be an individual worthy of respect, if nothing else then for his due diligence and courteous manner of speaking. The Sheriff did not just send any riff-raff to Alun's door.

Alas, Alun sighed as he heard the grass ruffle behind him. Her bravery didst overcome her. In a word, he felt a modicum of pride in the newly-turned woman. Though he sees how she looked at him, his visage alone still unsettled her and—His inner thoughts stopped as he realised what she just did and said. "Hehehe," he chuckled. Low, restrained, yet warm to the touch like a campfire's soft glow against the skin. He turns to the shotgun-carrying deputy. "The joys of rearing childer." Reminiscences came, bringing a fondness of memories to his fiendish voice. "Ah, do I so miss my parish in Cymru." He looked forward before speaking in a colder, harder, conspiratorial voice. "We're nearly there, I can hear their scrounging." He told Alexander who Alun expected to scamper off now to flank.

Meanwhile, psychically, Alun called upon one of the smallest of God's creations. The humble, scurrying rats. Their quiet squeaks, as they shuffled grass-blades aside, announced their presence. He was like the Pied Piper with twoscores of rats at his heel. The Beast within communes with the beast without.

Fingers on his dominant hands interlace in prayer, while his ancillary move lazily behind him. His mouth then opens and he recites:

"The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.

He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters.

He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name’s sake.

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.

Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.

Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever."

A hand cautions the young Cynthia.

While another stretches up to one of the spines on his crest-crown and then he pulls it. Out. A bone stiletto as a weapon. He steps out of the grass. He sees them huddling over the kindred's corpse like reavers of yore. No better than the wights.

"May you find peace in the Lord's embrace." He says, before let loosing the bony projectile at their bodies. Just as the thing left his hand, Alun already went into a low dash, not with the speed of celerity, but certainly inhuman. It stabs one of the three hunters in the shoulder and Alun descends on an uninjured one. One hand clasps the hunter's wrist, another his shirt collar, while the third arm slips under his armpit. He uses his vampiric strength to knock the rest back, windmilling his torso and dragging the poor hunter with him, his feet and legs doing the work.

He positions the hunter's captured form between himself and his compatriots. His fourth, free hand tapers his fingers together to form a claw. But this hunter was not an inexperienced greenhorn, he reflexively drew a combat dagger from his belt-sheath and stabbed the blade in the arm that held him by the armpit. Then he yanks it out and tries to go for Alun's fibrocartilaged head, but the vampire leans back before delivering a lethal blow to the throat. Tearing out his chords, carotids, and jugular on the way out.

Now it's Alexander's turn, otherwise Alun might be receiving a lethal dosage of... Lead.

The summoned rats stand back at his beck and call, should Alexander fail to reveal himself.

Athanas CloudySkyLoftyMoon

 

[Darrian_Gabriel]

The lavish, one hundred and ten story skyscraper stood tall and proud and was one of the tallest and most brightly lit high rises in all of Royal Haven. This was the Erebus Tower, one of many cornerstone skyscrapers in the extensive building network of Krisha Tech Enterprises. Only the first ten floors or so were devoted to office space and R&D facilities. The rest beyond the tenth floor was used for Eshara's personal and private use as it was only one of over twenty buildings owned in the city by the wealthy multibillionaire young woman. At the very top floor of the Erebus Tower, the young Thin Blood was flanked by Elias and Ash as well as over thirty heavily armed security. The three Kindred slowly walked down a long corridor until they all stopped at a large, ornate door that led to the roof of the building. One of the security team approached the door and flipped open a digital panel next to the gold plated door knob. He begins to enter in a complex series of encryption pass codes.

The beautiful young Thin Blood looks back at her vampiric guests and smiles, revealing her glistening fangs "I know it must seem like an absurd amount of security..." she says referencing the over thirty armed guards that accompanied them "...but being the owner and CEO of the fifth largest software corporation on Earth, you can never be too careful."

After a few more moments, the digital panel issues a pass clearance with an audible and robotic sounding "Access allowed", to the which the large door slides open, revealing the luxurious rooftop setting. One of the guards bows his head in reverence "If you or your guests need anything Miss Krisha, we'll be right outside."

"Thank you James." says Eshara as she casually walks past him, leading her two guests.

The rooftop resembles a dreamlike scene of both horror and beauty. There were several pools and basins that reflected the normal sheen of running water, except for the fact that the liquid wasn't water, it was blood. Brightly lit and circulated as if it was no different than H20. There were several "water fountains" that stood at the center and sides of these pools. But instead of statues of marble or porcelain, these edifices were mangled human corpses, shaped into scenes of grand posturing and pose, and just as if they were normal fountains, blood flowed out of their eyes, mouths and noses worked into intricate perfections of horror. The floors were pristine red tinted glass that, in certain spots, were covered with the finest red leather carpets, trimmed with both silver and gold. Live dancers and wait staff rimmed the rooftop, just waiting to fulfill any command at a moments notice. Some completely naked, while other dressed in lavish costumes and masks. Before too long the three come up to a huge banquet table filled with exquisite fine works of culinary craftsmanship. Food sculptures of swans, people and scenery adorned the table, with of course one notable difference. All this food was comprised of various renditions of things all made with blood. Blood pasta, blood cakes, blood salad, blood stew and even blood Jello could be found everywhere. Wine glasses filled to the brim with the crimson fluid could also be found in abundance. Needless to say, this was a vampiric paradise.

"Lord Elias, Lady Ash, I welcome you to my private boudoir, where I hold many of my most intimate gatherings. Please feel free to avail and partake of any refreshment you desire." she says as she picks up a dark blood crumpet with her fingers and causally bites into it, some of the fluid spilling down one side of her mouth "I personally recommend the crumpets, made with the blood of recently executed prisoners in Guam, always a delight. However if you prefer your sustenance a bit more fresh as it were, I'm always accommodating." she says as she snaps her fingers "Brett, if you please."

A tall and muscular man wearing a Venetian mask walks into the center of the courtyard and bows before Eshara "Yes m'lady" he says as he approaches Elias from the side. Brett unsheathes a dagger from his belt and casually slices open one of his own wrists in front of the ancient vampire. Not making a sound of pain or discomfort as the blood begins to pour out of the wound "Can I serve you my lord?" says Brett as calm as if he was pouring an ordinary glass of wine.

Eshara smiles as Elias, once again bearing her pearl white fangs "Go head my lord, avail yourself if you so wish. I understand that the esteemed clan of Tzimisce like their toys a little more on the malleable side."

Karcen Eccentric_Undead