In a World of Vampires. (Open to all)

Started by Katrina, July 26, 2010, 09:20:03 PM

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discordantentity

"Darien Stone, and I'm not one to let even something like a mage walk free.  No tricks, kept yer nose clean."  He said also offering his hand, but for now business came first then the goods later.  In fact they needed something, and it was hard to get due to the current fight for control of the city.  "We can talk business upstairs, in fact here is something ye can help us with.  We make the deal first, then you get to talk to my sire.  She needs to know yer safe, too many enemies."  He was more than happy to do what it took to get results, even if the information requested took some looking into and would take a bit.  So for now he would negotiate the price, and then he would make sure that both ends would be honored.

Katrina

Megan tilted her head some.  So, a mage. She'd dealt with them too.  She stepped to the side of the vampire in the suit so the mage could approach Darien.  She took a sip of her drink and eyed the crowd wondering if they were all vampires.

Dunnuck

#52
Chris laughed. "My name is Chris." He said with the british accent. "Chris Flemming." He finished, his accent now legitimate Australian. "At least that is my name here." He said, his voice now a thick African. He opened is arms in a gesture with a smile. "I am international. Americans are so closed up in their own country, they have no idea what is going on in the world." He growled with a Russian accent. All his accents were perfect, as if he were a native of the country. "I am no normal Vampire, brudda." He exclaimed with a Jamaican accent, walking around the man. "Same reason I do not need to feed. Same reason why I am so quick." He laughed at his accumulated accents and dialects. "Enough of the games." He said, returning to his British accent. "The name I am most popularly known by is Daybreaker." He told her. "I'm over four hundred years old, and there is a reason I have survived this long. You're probably, what, fifties or seventies? And you look like a teenager. I don't look that much older than you. By human standards I would have to say I look twenty four." He rubbed a hand along his face. "I age a lot slower than a typical vampire as well, if I even age that is." He said with a laugh.

"Boo fucking hoo. You lost your sister. You probably just killed someone's brother. Father. Uncle. Friend." He turned and looked at everyone in the room. "That would be enough to shoot this self-righteous prick right now." He quickly turned to the man. "And I do not suggest you try that air shit on me. May not have the desired effects." he said with a devilish grin.

He looked to Darian Stone with a scowl and grimace. "Negotiate with the man that just killed your bouncer. Yeah, that makes sense. Because everyone goes into a business transaction by killing a doorman." He went over to the bar and sat next to Megan. "The fucker." He said referring to the mage, taking a drink of liquor.

Katrina

Megan gazed at Chris.  By all standards he was an elder.  She looked to the stranger and then to Darien.  Things were becoming more and more tense with each passing second.

"Well...yes...I'm only about 50 in vampire years. So...you've traveled the world?  It must be nice to see so many far away places" Megan spoke in an attempt to ease some of the tension.

discordantentity

"This place needs to keep running, and certain supplies require delicate methods.  Chris you do understand that right?"  Was all Darien replied with as he looked around and whistled, so they all were paying attention.  He would get a new bouncer right away, by any means.  "Who ever has the biggest tab so far get to watching the door, and I'll see it erased.  That's all, now treat our guests properly."  He grinned as a rather large gangrel stood up and headed to take the slain bouncers place, that was the joy of this place was that even Anarchs had rules and someone ruled the roost.  He was often the one to enforce that persons will, as it was her bar.  "Sit down and relax, have a drink or something."  He said to Chris, since megan had already gotten herself settled here, she fit in quite well.  "Nice skill, only the third person in two hundred years that could control their voice."

Dunnuck

"Yeah it is. Always downsides, though. Like murder where the murderer has their own sick justification. Personal or otherwise." He said.

Katrina

She gazed to CHris a moment before moving to the bar and a guy offered her his stool and bought her a drink before he moved off to play pool with his buddies.  Megan turned and watched the crowd as she sipped on her second drink.

discordantentity

"Business is business, and this city is full of opportunity.  So why was the Sabbat so pissed at ye Chris, what did ye do to stir that pot to boiling over."  Darien was still interesting as to why that scene happened, as now if it was serious then he had just invited trouble into the doors and things would get ugly later on.

Kraven Trollsbane

i ignored the man named Chris. he was just some loud mouthed boaster as far as i could tell. he might be a long lived vamp and maybe even a challenge for a fight, if i didnt take him too seriously. i had enough power to level a city block if it was my desire, though that would probably kill me from using all my power at once. though his comment about my air tricks not working right was a little odd. i know he had never met a contractor, so he couldn't know how my power affected him, what did he mean

"a pleasure to meet you Darien." i said as i took his hand and shook "let us go and talk business."  i released his hand and turned to the Girl "and who might you be my dear?" i asked her rather formally.
 A&A

Katrina

Megan gazed to him and smiled a little "I'm Megan. Megan Blake."  She offered him her hand.

discordantentity

OOC: I'll be gone for an hour or two, housework needs doing before my folks get back and I have an hour and a half.  I put it off till last minute...

Dunnuck

"Bastard." Chris grumbled, talking about the mage. "What did I do?" He asked in a laugh. "I think it would be better to ask what I haven't done." He said. "Well, where to begin. Lets give a brief summary of a few things: assassination, witch craft, treason, murder, mass murder, human rights violations, religious squabbles, adultery..." He sighed. "List goes on. I have been around, that's for sure. People always read fiction saying 'oh so and so is thousands of years old' or 'hundreds of years old' but what they don't get is how long it actually is." He waved his hand, a bottle of liquor shooting to him with a gust of wind. "Picked up a few tricks along the way." He held open his hand and sat the liquor on it, and immediately it cooled. "No mage, though. Don't have the capability like the prick over yonder." He took a drink, setting the cold bottle down. "Can't do much past summoning the element." He snapped his fingers, the tips lighting in flames. "Probably not enough to use in a battle. Except the wind thing. I can use that to grab things from afar." He rubbed his hands together, a few strands of electricity shooting out.

"I've dealt with his kind before. Pretentious, like me. Except with only the experience of one life." He took a sip. "People that no one can beat them. Guess they never got the lesson I learned the hard way: there is always a bigger fish." He looked over too Darien. "Yes, I am a vampire. Yes, I know magic. Yes, I have come in contact and danger with demons, and I lived. That's got to count for something." He leaned forward. "Life is tiring. I'm waiting to finally die. Waiting for that eternal sleep. Hell, I cannot even remember what sleep is like. Haven't done it in so long. I don't get sleepy anymore, so falling asleep is hard." He stretched. "So if this guy can actually kill me, more power to him. But I doubt it." His eyes were low, bored. "I am waiting to die though; waiting for death to find me. I'm not going to hand my life over on a silver platter." He let out a stretch.

"So I have done a lot of things. Made a lot of enemies. A lot of friends. Sabbats can take their pick of the many reasons to want me dead."

Starlequin

Leon slipped through a maze of alleys and side streets, oblivious to the violence that erupted behind him. His job was done for the night, and he was dangerously low on ammunition anyway. He skulked through the shadows until he reached the relative safety of a crowded street, then blended into the crowds. A few noticed his singed and charred clothes, and he received quite a lot of odd looks from passers-by glimpsing the bullet holes in his jacket, but thankfully nobody decided to stop him for a chat on the matter. No cops, either, thank the night; most of the local LEOs were about as threatening as a sack of potatoes, but any notice from officialdom could still make his life hell.

After almost a half hour of walking, Leon grew tired of beating the sidewalk and hailed a cab. One of the Whites pulled up and he slid inside, gave the driver his destination and leaned back in his seat, his eyes closed. He payed no attention as the cabbie started going on and on about the latest Jets game and what a shame it was about all the new illegals flooding into the country, simply nodding and grunting at the proper intervals. He could feel the wounds in his back stitching themselves closed, and the pain started to diminish. As usual, he hadn't even noticed how much it had hurt until it stopped. The Thirst was starting to build, though; he needed to get back to his haven quickly or the Beast might overtake him after all.

After a 15-minute eternity, the taxi pulled up in front of Leon's apartment building and he climbed out, tossing a couple 20s to the driver. The old doorman took note of Leon's condition and quickly turned, reaching into a small mini-fridge and offering him a small red bottle. Leon popped off the cap and guzzled it down right on the step. It was O+, thin and a little less than fresh, but it was enough to steady his shaking fingers.

"Ugh. Damn, I needed that. Thanks, Larry. You're a lifesaver, man." "Anytime, Mr. Brentwood. Rough night?" "Eh, not great. But I've had worse." Which was true. Leon tossed the empty bottle in a nearby trash bin and tapped Larry on the shoulder as he headed inside. Larry was a ghoul, and a servant to the building's owner. He looked about 70, but his real age was closer to 160. "Shall I expect any company tonight, sir?" Larry asked, surreptitiously fingering the .45 he kept tucked under his jacket. Leon shook his head with a grin as he pushed through the doors. "Sorry, Larry. Not tonight; you'll have to find some other way to pass the time." The old ghoul nodded, crestfallen, and returned to his post.

Larry had been working for his current master, Antoine Mereaux, for the last 90 years, and was constantly on the lookout for a chance to earn either a full Embrace, or the peaceful release of death. It had been so long, Leon didn't think even Larry knew which one he'd prefer anymore. He took an elevator to his pad on the 14th floor, sharing it with Mrs. Rubinski, an elderly Kine woman who lived on one of the floors above him. "Now what's a young man like you doing out at this hour of night, hmm? Gone to see one of those girlfriends of yours, I don't doubt?" She asked, teasing him as she always did about his nocturnal outings. "Why Mrs. Rubinski, I might ask you the same thing. A young woman your age oughtn't be out and about so late; hardly proper, is it? Another one of your gentleman callers, I take it?" Leon replied with a smile. He couldn't help laughing as the old woman blushed and giggled. "Mr. Brentwood, I declare you are an absolute card!" "I know, I know; someone should really deal with me...ah. My floor. Sleep well, Mrs. R." As the doors opened, Leon swept out into the hall with a flourish, waving goodbye to the old woman before the doors clicked shut with a soft *ding*.

Leon's apartment took up most of the 14th floor, and it was spacious enough to prove it. He snapped the deadbolt and the chain on the door, and immediately headed for the fridge. He pulled out a couple of blood packs and drained them into a cut crystal glass, tossed in a straw and slurped down his dinner. It was never as good as straight from the jugular, but food was food and he was in no mood to hunt tonight. He dumped the night's prize, the stained and torn ledger, onto a coffee table and swiped up the remote, settling in to channel surf for a while. Above him, crouched on the stairs as silent and still as a waiting snake, the eyes of a young girl in a dark leather vest watched him intently, a long, sheathed katana resting in her lap.
You live for the fight when it's all that you've got.

Dunnuck

Chris' phone sounded, a trancy echoing techno beat arising from his pocket. He checked the phone and shook his head, gripping it in his hand. He touched the menu button on the touch screen. "I will be back." He said to Darien. He exited the bar and headed outside. He walked down the street, messing with his phone. He sent the text message away and made his way to the Sabbat stronghold. He took a cab which dropped him off around the corner. "Leon god damn Brentwood." He cursed as he took a look at the damage. He looked down at his phone, responding to the text message that just arrived. He drew his Desert Eagle and fired it forward into the head of a Sabbat who had survived, without looking away from his phone. He holstered the gun and sighed. "Hopefully I can keep my name out of this shit." He said, putting away his phone.

As long as this guy was dealing with Sabbat, the name 'Daybreaker' would always be associated somehow. Hopefully he wouldn't be sent after. He tried to stay away from the more serious things; the people with resources. They were dangerous to him.

Starlequin

There was, as usual, nothing on television. Leon powered the TV off and tossed the remote onto the table in front of him, and reached forward to grab the corner of the ledger nearest him. He dragged it closer and flipped it into his hands, cracked it open and began scanning the pages; he was quite curious to learn what was so important about these records that he'd been sent to dust an entire Sabbat coven to acquire them. After forty minutes of study, however, his head starting hurting and he snapped the ledger shut. There was nothing in the pages that told him anymore than he knew already: that a couple of Tzimisce had moved into town and started getting into the club business, which was highly irregular to begin with; that the profits were being used to bankroll a number of local covens that were producing some new kind of street drug, and his client, Leroy Marsdale, a local Ventrue entrepreneur and real estate mogul, was worried that his properties were being used by the Sabbat for their own 'nefarious purposes', as he'd so colorfully put it.

While Marsdale was on his mind, he decided to give the pompous little bastard a call and express his disapproval at being sent blindly into a full Sabbat nest. He rose from the couch and went into the study, a darkly lit room filled with dusty old tomes and scrolls, moth-eaten pages and lovingly re-crafted books. Many were simply historical works, accounts and autobiographies of Kindred and Kine that had influenced the world without garnering the destructive attention of history, or lost volumes of poetry or literature from a hundred different ages in a hundred dead languages. Others were far darker in origin, scriptures and grimorums detailing mystical rituals, insidious magics, and detailed accounts of meetings with beings of both the Higher Planes and the Lower Realms. In life, Leon had been an avid scholar and historian, and undeath had not dampened his lust for knowledge. It was, he reflected from time to time, probably that very quality that had attracted his sire to him, a beautifully ancient Tremere sorceress by name of Veldana Deschaine.

He shook his head to clear the memories from his mind before they could grip him any further; there was work to be done. Reminiscing could wait. He rummaged through his desk for one of the many burn phones he kept active for contacting clients and other such business. When he found one, he turned and left the study, locking it tight as he left, and returned to the living room couch. As his fingers were about to angrily jam in Leroy's number, he glanced up and noticed the girl with the very large sword on his stairs.

"Oh, Neko. You're home. Good. There's food in the fridge, if you're hungry."

The girl nodded curtly and rose from her seat on the stairs, and stalked down to the kitchen as quietly as any Kindred. Leon was pretty certain the girl was human, but she was easily the most unusual Kine he'd ever met. She couldn't have been more than 12 or 13, and he was reasonably certain her real name was not 'Neko'. But it was the name she'd given herself when he'd taken her in, and that was alright with him. She had never spoken, not once in the two years since he'd found her wandering in an asylum one night while he was on a case. He had been hired to extract, or if necessary, assassinate, a Malkavian caitiff who had allowed himself to be captured by police, and refused to exit custody on his own. If the Kine had had the chance to study him, the Masquerade would certainly have been imperiled; the Primogen were adamant that the prodigal Kindred be educated as to the error of his ways, one way or another.

Leon had infiltrated the asylum without trouble, and the fledgling was easy enough to track down. But by the time he'd reached his target, the poor bastard had already killed two of the orderlies and was dangerously close to frenzy. Leon had had no choice but to put him down. As he was leaving, he noticed a young girl with a katana following along behind him. At first he mistook her for a Hunter, and turned on her with every intention to kill her in her tracks. But as he ran at her, the girl showed no sign of fear or anxiety. She never even drew her sword, which was almost as tall as she was. His hand stopped inches from her neck, and their eyes met. If anything, he was more unnerved by the encounter than she was. He turned on his heels and left the asylum, chalking the whole incident up to just another weird night in New York, and expected never to see the girl again.

And then she showed up in his apartment four nights later.

He'd been shocked as hell when he woke up one night and found her sitting on his couch, her katana still in hand. Her expression had been one of absolute serenity, as if she had every right and reason in the world to be there. Leon tried at first to engage the girl in some conversation, but quickly realized it was a lost cause. If she could speak, she wouldn't. The only attempt at direct communication she had ever made with him had been to scratch one word into his wall with the point of her sword. 'Neko'. In the end, he simply accepted her presence and she became something of a mainstay; she came and went as she pleased, she was never without her sword, and she gave the distinct impression that despite her age, she could protect herself quite capably. He never found out what the girl was doing in the asylum that night. And he doubted he ever would. She was very much like her namesake suggested: a master of the art of simply existing, without any obvious purpose or direction.

He returned his attention to the phone in his hand and punched in Marsdale's number. After a few rings, the Ventrue's secretary picked up. "Venture Enterprises, how may I direct your call?"

"This is Mr. Brentwood. Please inform Mr. Marsdale I wish to speak with him immediately," Leon all but snarled into the phone, his grip dangerously close to crushing the cheap plastic.
You live for the fight when it's all that you've got.

Kraven Trollsbane

i jerked a thumb at Chris as he walked away "cheeky fellow isnt he, and a little full of himself. ive met vamps twice his age, and they weren't very impressive." i finally turned to the girl "a pleasure to meet you my dear." i whispered knowing full well she could hear me. i took her outstretched hand, gave a formal bow and kissed her knuckles.
 A&A

discordantentity

"Business first, then pleasure.  First I need some answers from our new friend, he could bring trouble to us.  Please be patient."  He then listened to Chris before Chris left, and after that brief stint led Yagami up the stairs to a small office in the back.  Before Chris left he gave him a cautionary word, one that was serious.  "Don't bring them down on our heads, it's bad for business."  In the office there was maps of the docks and lists of names and numbers, some of them known smugglers who would smuggle anything for the right price.  Taking a seat behind the small desk he motioned to a chair, it was old and comfortable and had duct tape covering tears and a few cigarette burns.  "Now as you can see My sire and I have a nice little business here, something that is being stalled by federal officials."

Kraven Trollsbane

i chose to stand, quicker reaction time. "quite the place you two have here" i commented. "now we could chat like old friends if you desire but i prefer to get right down to business. what would you require of me in exchange for some information?"
 A&A

discordantentity

Darien put down a cargo manifest with eight items highlighted in green, while the contents read common household goods there was something different with the way they were handled.  In fact the one supplying weapons to both sides had been them, which would explain why despite the enemies this place was left alone and harboring an enemy like chris could compromise it.  "The specified cargo has been detained at federal warehouse #21, on suspect of being part of a major drug shipment.  My supplier got sloppy, and we need help extracting the highlighted goods.  You could say we made a major enemy in this purchase, the society of leopold.  It is in fact dragons breath rounds and weapons, stolen from one of their warehouses.  I intend to distribute them to both sides and further fuel more war, we profit greatly off of the two factions hatred.  In exchange we will help you track down what you seek, as long as it takes."  He spoke his matter plainly knowing that such a man he was dealing with could not be bought once a contract was forged, and this was good for both sides as it would mean that they fulfilled a contractual obligation that the camarilla was pressuring him on.  "Before i was kindred i was a smuggler, and my mistake was killing a client who double crossed me.  He had powerful friends, and I almost danced a jig at the gallows."

Kraven Trollsbane

" ah your war profiteer then, a good business. i will get your shipment. when and where do you want it delivered?"
 A&A

Katrina

Megan remained below since she hadn't been invited up.  The flying one was quite charming she thought to herself.  He could indeed make a great ally.   She'd do all she could to help him find out who killed his sister, though she could almost bet the sabbat were behind it.

discordantentity

"That is putting it a little harsh, but then the truth is never pretty.  There is an old hotel three blocks from here, condemned mind you.  It will be safe there, that is where I keep my personal stash.  Of course I hope for continued cooperation in the future, as you will have mine.  So do we have a deal?"  Darien asked as he let Yagami read the container shipping labels, he did not dare send anyone lest it expose the operation.  They sold arms to the french in WW2, which was a waste in their mind as the french had given up and tarnished their name already.  "I will begin to gather information right away, do you have a name and picture.  As well as where and how she died, information helps find information."

Dunnuck

Two Thousand Years Ago

Xenlia viciously ate at the young boy's neck, having been driven crazy with hunger. The boy lay in a pool of his own his blood, his body twitching slightly. "There he is!" "Oh my god!" "He killed him!" Were some of the things they shouted. Xenlia Moigrin was one of the few vampires in existence. He growled at the crowd of people, who were dressed in mere rags. "Get away from me he growled." They began to close in with their makeshift weapons, the immense heat of the summer bringing sweat to their brow. He growled out at them, retreating slowly. He stood to full length, blood lust in his eyes. "Get him!" One of the men shouted.

Florence, During the Renaissance

David Gilor'e was dancing heartily with a woman, who was adorned in a masquerade mask. Fireworks burst in the night sky, casting a light over the woman's beautiful figure. "You are quite the dancer!" She complimented in Italian, a laugh drawing from her body. He swooped her down expertly, and spoke in his soprano voice. "You aren't bad yourself, ma'am." He responded. Later that night, David and the woman were alone in an ally away from the closing celebration. "You're so bad!" She laughed, her exquisite accent and the beauty of the language ringing in David's ears. He drew her close, placing a kiss on her lips. Slowly, he began kissing down her neck passionately. "You're beautiful, you know that?" He asked in italian. She laughed bashfully as he stopped at the base of her neck.

He continued to kiss, leading her back to his place for some fun.

Iceland

It was about this time that he missed Florence, Italy. Those were excellent times, but now long gone. Hundreds of years. Now he was on the run, the first time in his life that he was in danger of dying. He fell to the ground, rolling and sprawling out. He quickly gained to his feet, running through the plain, mountains to either side of him. Blood trickled from his arm, and he was dangerously close to passing out. "He's over here!" One of the men shouted in their native tongue. Masik Guriela stumbled again, but keeping her footing. "Kill him! Kill him! Kill Cruor Perussi!" He shouted.

Present Day, New York

"Cruor Perussi; Blood Consumer..." Chris pondered. "One of the oldest vampires of all time." he reflected. "Right under the nose of everyone. And they don't even know. Leon god damn Brentwood...if he keeps digging he's going to know that Cruor Perussi never died so long ago in Iceland. He became Daybreaker. Lying to Darien wasn't anything big to him; he lied all the time. He had to to live. If anyone were to figure out that the fabled Cruor Perussi was still alive, they would hunt him relentlessly.

"Leon god damn Brentwood..."

Kraven Trollsbane

"we have a deal, young vampire."i perused the shipping manifest. this would be an easy job

he asked me for info on my sister, i had a dossier ready and pulled it out of my coat pocket. contained was a current picture, a map showing where she died, and a profile with her name and other basic info.
 A&A

Dunnuck

The police must have heard the gun shot because they came around to the back of the building where Chris was in a rush. he had no idea they were still there. Luckily, he had made his way by the time they got there. He needed to find Leon Brentwood. Get to him before he decides that Chris was an enemy, if it wasn't too late yet. Chris promptly made his way back to the bar, a troubled expression written on his face. He took a seat, wondering if he should ask about Brentwood or just let it go. He had been this close to being discovered before, but he never got used to it. He kind of liked what he had going here, and when he dies he wants to die doing something good. Not running and dying in some ally way and having his body experimented on.