The Picture House: The Doors Open
Matt Griffiths
through the soles of their feet. Misha watched as the more hungry members
congregated around the large crystal punch bowls on the tables. He was stood
next to the one containing alcohol, smiling at the patrons, while Corinna
watched each and every person enter the club. She stood looking
intimidating, her thumbs hooked in the waistband of her leather pants. The
DJ moved the pace of the music, sending some of the dancers into a swaying
frenzy.
A tall thin man entered the club, his face covered in stubble. Holding his
hand, scanning around the room, was a young black girl, no more than six or
seven years old. The man was dressed in a suit, looking sharp and
immaculate, while the girl appeared to be dressed straight out of Gap.
Corinna looked at Misha hesitantly, but he was already off and around the
table, approaching the couple. He shook the hand of the girl, before hugging
the man, greeting him like an old friend. Corinna approached the group. The
two seemed to be at the end of sharing a private joke. The two laughed out
loud, before Misha introduced them.
"Kieran, Celine, this is Corinna Nugent. She's looking after us all tonight,
and she's also here to celebrate. Corinna, this," he said, indicating the
man, "is Kieran Sheffield. He's from Kansas City. And this," indicating the
girl, "is Celine Adams. She's Kieran's escort for tonight. They're both real
Artistes." He looked at Kieran and smiled, sharing another joke.
Kieran and Celine moved on to mingle with the crowd.
Misha sidled up to her. "Is Chester coming?"
"His 'plane should be landing any second.. The Tremere have let him off on
good behaviour for a while."
Some unseen cue made Misha signal to one of the bouncers. The heavy-set man
nodded in response, and flipped a switch next to him. Spotlights suddenly
illuminated podium dancers, up on the stage, next to the DJ's platform. One
of them, clad only in a bikini top and chainmail skirt, waved to Misha, and
winked.
"Who's she?" Corinna regarded her with contempt as she asked.
"That," said Misha, almost dream-like, "is Jasmine Du Mont." His eyes
tracked her movements, which were graceful and sinuous, her whole body
moving around on the podium like a charmed snake. He felt himself being lost
in the clan weakness studying her dance moves. Corinna looked at her with
utter disgust.
The DJ moved to classic 70s dance tunes as Corinna took up position on a bar
stool to watch the others arrive.
--
Kieran Sheffield and Celine Adams
Toreador
--
Jasmine Du Mont
Ventrue Go-go Dancer
--
Corinna Nugent
Lasombra Freelance
--
Misha Young
Toreador Vocalist
--
Matt Griffiths
Remove "vamp." to reply
Veronica Giver-of-Hope
> stool to watch the others arrive.
The next ones to arrive were a pair of young women, visiting from New York.
One was small, slender, and appeared at first glance to be an animated statue of
white marble with spots of blood for eyes; a true albino, clad in a simple gown,
full-length, long sleeves, turtle-neck, shimmering white satin. She was carrying
an embroidered silk violin case and a simple purse over one shoulder. The other
woman was completely different: tall for a woman, with very feminine curves over
sturdy muscles, wearing a baggy purple silk blouse and jeans with many holes,
including splits just shy of her rounded buttocks. Her hip-length brown hair
was, for now, caught up in a topknot, and her green eyes glanced about sharply.
"If you're going to be nervous, you shouldn't have come," the albino chided
gently.
"Well, my craving for excitement overwhelmed my common sense, okay?" The
taller woman folded her arms across her chest, pulling her blouse in and
revealing the curve of her belly; from the rest of her body-shape, this could
only be a pregnancy into the second trimester.
"Just try to keep your nervousness under wraps; many of those here can
*smell* it." The pair introduced themselves to the bouncers as Dana Shields and
Marie St. Claire.
Shortly after came another pair of females, just as wildly contrasting as
the first. Both were wearing brightly colored silk blouses tucked into jeans,
which were tucked into steel-toed leather boots. One appeared to be no older
than twelve years old, with glossy black hair tied back in a French braid, and
luminous dark eyes that held a wisdom that belied her apparent youth. A clean
white bandage around her left wrist, and an old silver-and-black enameled brooch
in the form of the clan symbol of the Tremere were her only other distinguishing
adornments.
The other was more unique: her cascade of baby-fine white hair fell, loose
and soft, to her calves. Her eyes were very large, and of a shade of violet that
approached magenta in brightness and intensity. These two remained quiet,
speaking to the bouncers and introducing themselves as the recently-escaped
Rebecca Addams and Veronica Hopegiver.
Finally, a figure vaguely familiar to Misha walks in, clad in the soft
leathers of a Celtic freewoman, woad-blue designs, drawn on with an eyeshadow
pencil, declaring her to be of high birth and of great skill. The bangs and
sides of her flame-red hair are drawn up into a ponytail, leaving the rest to
hang freely. Though she appears to be unarmed, she walks with the grace of a
hunter, and her strong build makes many realize that she could use her own body
as a weapon. She introduces herself to the bouncers as Brigit, but Misha
recognizes her as Sister of Wolves.
Geoff
on a bar
> stool to watch the others arrive.
Those Kindred sensitive to such things felt his presence a few moments
before the entrance to the Picture House was occupied by his dark,
brooding form. He stood well over 6' tall - possibly as much as 7' -
and his stature was truly imposing, almost threatening - a strength of
form that could be likened to the pillar of order that the Ventrue
elite might present. His short, jet black locks where combed back on
his scalp and, despite the deathly pallor of his pale flesh, his
attractively chiselled features almost belied Sicilian descent. He
wore a black, richly tailored suit of the current vogue, complemented
by a plain black, polo-necked shirt, which gave him the shadowy visage
of a Lasombre. The overall effect of these disparate ingredients gave
him the appearance of the classic modern vampire - tall, dark and very
handsome. Yet his stance in the doorway, accompanied by his stern,
emotionless countenance, presented a figure that oozed danger - the
kind of guy you turn your face from and hope to God has paid you no
heed.
The bouncers noticed this immediately and gathered themselves towards
the stranger, cutting off his path to the dance floor. He gazed down
at them with the same kind of contempt you give to a dog turd you had
the misfortune to step in, and things went badly from then on. Over
the din of the music, it was hard to make out the exchange of words,
but it was clear that the bouncers were not getting what they wanted
and the stranger was not impressed by their entreaties. So much so, it
was fast becoming apparent that this looked like it might snowball
into real trouble if allowed to continue unchecked.
The Stranger
http://www.pigou.freeserve.co.uk/RedCity/
*remove NOSPAM to reply*
PKieferjr
<matthew....@cableinet.co.dot.uk> writes:
>"Who's she?" Corinna regarded her with contempt as she asked.
>"That," said Misha, almost dream-like, "is Jasmine Du Mont." His eyes
>tracked her movements, which were graceful and sinuous, her whole body
>moving around on the podium like a charmed snake. He felt himself being lost
>in the clan weakness studying her dance moves. Corinna looked at her with
>utter disgust.
>
>The DJ moved to classic 70s dance tunes as Corinna took up position on a bar
>stool to watch the others arrive.
As the music began, a person in a charcoal grey duster enters, paying the
bouncer the entrance fee. He was a tall man, short cropped brown hair, like a
military cut, wearing dark pilot's sunglasses.
As he entered, he found a lone table near the back. He took off his duster
overcoat, revealing a white sportcoat and pants and a black shirt. Putting
them on the back of a chair, he took a seat and watched the entertainment.
Nick Barton, Clan Ventrue
PKieferjr
(PKieferjr) writes:
>As the music began, a person in a charcoal grey duster enters, paying the
>bouncer the entrance fee. He was a tall man, short cropped brown hair, like
>a
>military cut, wearing dark pilot's sunglasses.
>
>As he entered, he found a lone table near the back. He took off his duster
>overcoat, revealing a white sportcoat and pants and a black shirt. Putting
>them on the back of a chair, he took a seat and watched the entertainment.
(OOC: Forgot to mention this: Those of you with Auspex of Level 2 or more
will notice a swirl of colors around Nick. There is a turmoil of emotion in
him at this time. Hate, Anger, Vengance....and a deep sadness. He looks like
he just lost someone.)
(At the time of this writing, Nick is about half-way through his remaking.)
>
>Nick Barton, Clan Ventrue
>
(Paul)
SFryar
<hda...@pcisys.net> writes:
>> The DJ moved to classic 70s dance tunes as Corinna took up position on a
>bar
>> stool to watch the others arrive.
>
A tall, shapely black woman, wearing a sapphire blue satin spaghetti strap
dress that just brushed above her knees entered the club, a matching sapphire
blue bolero-style jacket was draped over her shoulders, and a matching purse
was slung over her right arm. Her long black hair was casually pulled back from
her delicate face, and it hung straight down to her waist. She wore a pair of
sapphire blue satin pumps, and the overall effect was dazzling to anyone who
noticed.
The woman looked elegant and stylish, as befitted a Toreador. Her jewelry was
simple and basic; a pair of silver button earrings, and a matching blue lapis
heart, dangling from a silver neckchain. She wore very little makeup, just a
bit of rose powder blush, a touch of deep rose lipstick on her lips, and a hint
of blue eye shadow to bring out her deep, dark eyes.
She smiled at the bouncers and said, "Hello, I'm Charmaine MacLendon. It's a
pleasure to be here tonight. My friend should be here any second now..." She
turned around toward the doorway and gestured to someone who was coming up
behind her. "Come on, Micki... You've got to see this place..." she said to the
tardy newcomer.
A young woman, who was a bit curvier than Charmaine, came through the doorway,
dressed in a violet leather catsuit and a pair of purple leather stiletto
heeled boots. At first glance, the outfit that she wore was more reminiscent
of the 1960's than the 1990's, but the look suited her, and that was enough.
Her red hair was piled up into a 60's style ponytail that cascaded down her
back, and she wore a pair of gold hoop earrings. She also wore very little
makeup, just some soft plum lipstick on her full, pouty lips, and just enough
violet eyeshadow to bring out her big green eyes.
She looked at the bouncers and said, "I'm Micki Channing. I'm a friend of
Charmaine's."
Charmaine chuckled and said, "You've got that 'Austin Powers' look tonight,
Micki."
Charmaine and Micki
(OOC: Can they make an entrance or what? <g>)
Matt Griffiths
Veronica Giver-of-Hope <hda...@pcisys.net> wrote in message
news:37586650...@pcisys.net...
<snip>
> Finally, a figure vaguely familiar to Misha walks in, clad in the soft
> leathers of a Celtic freewoman, woad-blue designs, drawn on with an
eyeshadow
> pencil, declaring her to be of high birth and of great skill. The bangs
and
> sides of her flame-red hair are drawn up into a ponytail, leaving the rest
to
> hang freely. Though she appears to be unarmed, she walks with the grace of
a
> hunter, and her strong build makes many realize that she could use her own
body
> as a weapon. She introduces herself to the bouncers as Brigit, but Misha
> recognizes her as Sister of Wolves.
Misha broke from his trance-like state as Jasmine took a break from dancing.
He happened to glance across the room, and caught sight of Sister of Wolves.
He walked over with a smile on his face, and offered a hug.
"Long time no see! How have you been?"
Matt Griffiths
SFryar <sfr...@aol.com> wrote in message
news:19990605140422...@ngol02.aol.com...
The bouncers nodded with recognition at her name. "Yes, Miss MacLendon,
we've been expecting you. Go right on in."
> A young woman, who was a bit curvier than Charmaine, came through the
doorway,
> dressed in a violet leather catsuit and a pair of purple leather stiletto
> heeled boots. At first glance, the outfit that she wore was more
reminiscent
> of the 1960's than the 1990's, but the look suited her, and that was
enough.
> Her red hair was piled up into a 60's style ponytail that cascaded down
her
> back, and she wore a pair of gold hoop earrings. She also wore very little
> makeup, just some soft plum lipstick on her full, pouty lips, and just
enough
> violet eyeshadow to bring out her big green eyes.
>
> She looked at the bouncers and said, "I'm Micki Channing. I'm a friend of
> Charmaine's."
>
> Charmaine chuckled and said, "You've got that 'Austin Powers' look
tonight,
> Micki."
The bouncers let Micki pass. As the two women walk up a short flight of
stairs (hope I'm not posing inappropriately), they go through a set of
double doors and into the club proper. The dance floor, which is now filling
with Kindred, is what would have once been the stalls. The DJ booth and the
podium dancers are where the screen or stage would have been. Above their
heads is another platform, with no apparent access from the dance floor. The
bar is to the left, but is unsurprisingly not very busy. However, next to it
are two large crystal punch bowls, filled with blood. One bowl is
alcoholic - the other is not.
After speaking with Sister of Wolves, Misha and Corinna approached the pair.
"Charmaine! Good to see you again," he said. He turned to look at Micki,
obviously enjoying what he saw.
"Hello. I don't think we've had the pleasure." He extended his hand to her,
and glanced at Charmaine, hoping for an introduction.
Corinna approached Charmaine hesitantly.
"Hello Charmaine." She looked her up and down, once, and smiled nervously.
"Very nice. It's, um," she searched for an appropriate word, but her
knowledge of fashion got the better of her. "It's very blue."
She seemed to summon all of her courage up at once, and began to speak. "I'm
sorry I ran out on you in Chicago. It was rude of me not to tell you where I
was going, but to be honest, I didn't really know myself. I had to sort out
some problems. I believe you Americans would say I have 'issues'." She
smiled again, weakly.
> Charmaine and Micki
> (OOC: Can they make an entrance or what? <g>)
(OOC: Well they've certainly made an impression on me! <g>)
--
Corinna Nugent
Lasombra Freelance
Matt Griffiths
PKieferjr <pkie...@aol.com> wrote in message
news:19990605115903...@ngol07.aol.com...
> In article <7j9j0t$ep2$1...@news1.cableinet.co.uk>, "Matt Griffiths"
> <matthew....@cableinet.co.dot.uk> writes:
>
> >"Who's she?" Corinna regarded her with contempt as she asked.
> >"That," said Misha, almost dream-like, "is Jasmine Du Mont." His eyes
> >tracked her movements, which were graceful and sinuous, her whole body
> >moving around on the podium like a charmed snake. He felt himself being
lost
> >in the clan weakness studying her dance moves. Corinna looked at her with
> >utter disgust.
> >
bar
> >stool to watch the others arrive.
>
> bouncer the entrance fee. He was a tall man, short cropped brown hair,
like a
> military cut, wearing dark pilot's sunglasses.
>
> As he entered, he found a lone table near the back. He took off his
duster
> overcoat, revealing a white sportcoat and pants and a black shirt.
Putting
> them on the back of a chair, he took a seat and watched the entertainment.
Corinna watched the newcomer, then walked over to the bouncers, and began to
talk to them. They nodded several times, and indicated the man who had just
sat down. She nodded once, and patted the bouncer on the shoulder in an
understanding way. She was about to come over and introduce herself, but did
not, partly because of his icy demeanour and also because Chester had just
entered.
He was dressed in the style of an East-coast anarch; jeans, bloused into
combat boots, button-down shirt, cowboy hat and short motorcycle jacket. He
embraced Corinna and they kissed deeply, which ended with his hat falling
off. Corinna scooped it up off the floor and took his jacket, giving it to
one of the bouncers to hang up.
"How you been?"
"I don't wanna talk about it," he said, sliding his hand around her waist.
"How's David?"
"He's good," he said, nodding. Suddenly, he cocked his head. He recognised
the first few bars of the song that had begun; it was "Disco Inferno". He
grinned, and grabbed Corinna's hand. With a giggle, she let herself be
dragged onto the dance-floor.
--
Chester Mix
Tremere Hacker
Fourth Circle Apprentice
San Francisco Chantry
--
Corinna Nugent
Lasombra Freelance
--
Matt Griffiths
AdamRLee
>entered.
>
>He was dressed in the style of an East-coast anarch; jeans, bloused into
>combat boots, button-down shirt, cowboy hat and short motorcycle jacket. He
>embraced Corinna and they kissed deeply, which ended with his hat falling
>off. Corinna scooped it up off the floor and took his jacket, giving it to
>one of the bouncers to hang up.
>
Just behind Chester entered a man in a black coat which buttoned to the top
with a solid collar. It was like a sport coat folded overbut it was designed
that way and was cut properly. He also wore twice pleated black slacks. The
whole ensemble has an asian cast to it.
The man had long dark brown hair tied in a ponytail and a goatee. His face was
finely chisled, he had the characters of a real ladykiller. (app.4, style 4)
In his right hand he carried a black bag, canvas, about two nd a half feet
long. He appoached the matre'd and smiled.
"Cole Harris, I'm with Chester."
"What's in the bag?" asked the matre'd.
"My Trumpet, and some reading material. I don't leave it anywhere except at
home, and only when I'm in the city. Sorry, San Francisco."
"All right, have a nice night."
>"How you been?"
>"I don't wanna talk about it," he said, sliding his hand around her waist.
>"How's David?"
>"He's good," he said, nodding. Suddenly, he cocked his head. He recognised
>the first few bars of the song that had begun; it was "Disco Inferno". He
>grinned, and grabbed Corinna's hand. With a giggle, she let herself be
>dragged onto the dance-floor.
>
Cole walked to one of the round table near the dance floor. He took off his
jacket revealing a black collarless button up shirt and blood red suspenders.
Around his neck hung a small gold medallion with a small chinese character on
it. The character read "hope." He smiled at Chester and Corinna as they took
the dance floor and he took a seat, placing his bag on the table in front of
him.
Cole Harris
House and Clan Tremere
Probably mistaken for a Toreador
Fifth Circle Apprentice
San Francisco Chantry
Matt Griffiths
AdamRLee <adam...@aol.com> wrote in message
news:19990606034935...@ng-cg1.aol.com...
<snip>
> Cole walked to one of the round table near the dance floor. He took off
his
> jacket revealing a black collarless button up shirt and blood red
suspenders.
stockings! That was a shocking couple of seconds! Don't worry, I realise
what you mean now. <g>)
> Cole Harris
> House and Clan Tremere
> Probably mistaken for a Toreador
> Fifth Circle Apprentice
> San Francisco Chantry
--
Matt
AdamRLee
>stockings! That was a shocking couple of seconds! Don't worry, I realise
>what you mean now. <g>)
>
OOC: Those, at least on this side of the pond, are called Garters, and the
simple mention of them makes my blood temperature rise at least a few degrees.
<shiver> ohhhh, garters. <drool>
Adam
P.S. Doing arial dance maneuvers with a kitten wearing those is a sight to
see.
Matt Griffiths
> >(OOC: When you said 'suspenders' I thought you meant the kind that held
up
> >stockings! That was a shocking couple of seconds! Don't worry, I realise
> >what you mean now. <g>)
> >
>
> OOC: Those, at least on this side of the pond, are called Garters, and the
> simple mention of them makes my blood temperature rise at least a few
degrees.
> <shiver> ohhhh, garters. <drool>
Ah. We call them braces over here. And I agree totally. Mmm, suspenders with
stockings. It doesn't get much better than that...
> Adam
Matt
Sorsha - Brujah Clan.
<7jdfov$o45$1...@news1.cableinet.co.uk>...
> <snip>
> > Cole walked to one of the round table near the dance floor. He took
off
> his jacket revealing a black collarless button up shirt and blood red
> suspenders.
up
> stockings! That was a shocking couple of seconds! Don't worry, I realise
> what you mean now. <g>)
>
> > House and Clan Tremer
>
>
Sorsha: Damn Matt, ha ha what kinda close do you wear.........
Stockings..ahh like women wear...Or Stockings like socks men wear....
Sorsha - Brujah Clan.
<19990606063609...@ng-cg1.aol.com>...
> >(OOC: When you said 'suspenders' I thought you meant the kind that held
up
> >stockings! That was a shocking couple of seconds! Don't worry, I realise
> >what you mean now. <g>)
> >
>
the
> simple mention of them makes my blood temperature rise at least a few
degrees.
> <shiver> ohhhh, garters. <drool>
>
>
> P.S. Doing arial dance maneuvers with a kitten wearing those is a sight
to
> see.
>
hell is that....
P.S What color do you prefer....(angelic smile)
Geoff
And it wasn't.
"Look, it's real simple," one of the more courageous bouncers
explained, raising his voice. "We ask you for a name, we check it on
the guest list and, if everything's cool, *then* we let you in."
"Oh," intoned the stranger flatly, "Really..."
So saying, the stranger slid his right hand through the bouncers
defences with a preternatural speed that could not be countered,
grabbing him by the neck in a vice-like grip. Two other bouncers
responded with several trained blows to the knees and spine, quickly
discovering that it was like striking a rock and only served to scuff
the suit. The stranger lifted his captured prey off his feet as though
the hunk weighed no more than a bag of sugar and, turning swiftly,
marched up the short stairway, his right arm outstretched before him.
He used the bouncer to open the double doors.
The foyer guard grabbed his transceiver, "This is the main door; I
think we have a problem..."
As both doors to the dance floor parted, the bouncer was flung through
the air backwards, flailing wildly, to land some feet away, skidding
to a halt. The stranger, still marching purposely forward and
remaining expressionless, casually adjusted his suit and headed
towards the bar. On the way, he snatches an empty glass from one of
the tables in Nick Barton's line of sight and passes the congregations
of other guests. Reaching one of the punch bowls, he scoops up a hefty
glassful of alcohol-laced blood and drinks from it deeply. Finishing
it in one gulp, he scoops up another as he wipes his blood-stained
lips clean with the back of his left hand.
[OOC: Do You Know This Man?: H'okay, anyone with any reasonable (USA
based) media, police, law or underworld influence is going to
*vaguely* recognise this guy. He sorta looks like the guy the American
media dubbed 'The Firestarter' back in the early 90's. Basically, the
Firestarter was kinda like one of those 'super villains' you find in
big budget Hollywood flicks (like Passenger 57, Die Hard, etc). You
know, the sort of guy involved in aircraft hi-jacking, major arms/drug
dealing, international terrorism, etc - a criminal mastermind and
total psychopath. It took seven SWAT teams and one of those 'super
cops' (as seen in Lethal Weapon, Speed, etc) to take him down. At the
now infamous trial, the Firestarter was sentenced to the chair and
sent to 'death row' at a maximum security prison, someplace in Nevada.
If you have very good underworld ties, you may have heard the *rumour*
that, although this guy was supposed to have been shot dead whilst
escaping, his body was never recovered. This is Fame 4, guys.]
[OOC: Can You Read His Aura?: If you've got level two Auspex (or
better), you're in for an unpleasant surprise. The stranger's aura is
a hypnotic swirl of pale light blue tones, heavily 'stained' by a
plethora of black veins. Grab your V:tM rule book and have fun
figuring it out <g>]
PKieferjr
<ge...@pigou.freeserve.co.uk> writes:
>As both doors to the dance floor parted, the bouncer was flung through
>the air backwards, flailing wildly, to land some feet away, skidding
>to a halt. The stranger, still marching purposely forward and
>remaining expressionless, casually adjusted his suit and headed
>towards the bar. On the way, he snatches an empty glass from one of
>the tables in Nick Barton's line of sight and passes the congregations
>of other guests. Reaching one of the punch bowls, he scoops up a hefty
>glassful of alcohol-laced blood and drinks from it deeply. Finishing
>it in one gulp, he scoops up another as he wipes his blood-stained
>lips clean with the back of his left hand.
>
Nick heard the commotion, then saw the man grab a glass from a nearby table.
/Trouble with a capitol "T". Why does he look so damn familiar?/ Nick
pondered for a moment, then got on his cell phone. /Wait a minute. He does
look familiar./ "Bob? It's Nick. Ah need ya ta check th' database fer me.
Lookin' fer a guy that fits th' followin' description....." Nick rattles off
the description of the stranger.
<Searching database. Stand by........matching description found, under the
name of....> The computer gives him the name of the stranger, who is now
standing at the bar and scooping up handfuls of bloodwine from the punchbowl
and sucking it into his mouth. "Oh, shit, a real tickin' time-bomb. Bob,
bookmark that description an' send word to th' local Prince that he's at th'
Picture House. Infiltrate th' security system an' keep an' eye on 'im."
<Acknowledged. Infiltrating security systems.......infiltration complete.
Sentry program in progress.>
Nick closed up the cell phone and started to look for the owner of the
building.
Nick Barton, Clan Ventrue
AdamRLee
>hell is that....
>
>P.S What color do you prefer....(angelic smile)
Arial dance manuevers -- flingining people up in the air while dancing, usually
done in Swing style dances. I myself am a big Lindy Hopper. If you're missing
a beat, keep practicing :)
Black, definately black.
Adam
PKieferjr
(AdamRLee) writes:
>Black, definately black.
I'm kinda partial to earth tones, myself.
Paul
AdamRLee
>
>I'm kinda partial to earth tones, myself.
>
>Paul
>
I think that those don't work quite so well with garters and stockings. But if
we're talking about other parts of clothing then I like them too.
Adam
PKieferjr
(AdamRLee) writes:
Definitely other parts. We won't get into garters and stockings here.
Paul
Veronica Giver-of-Hope
> He happened to glance across the room, and caught sight of Sister of Wolves.
> He walked over with a smile on his face, and offered a hug. "Long time no see!
> How have you been?"
She gives him a back-popping embrace, almost lifting him off of the ground.
"I've been okay; we had a bit of a mess back around New Year's, and Veronica...
well, she's right over there," she points at the woman with flowing white hair.
"Y'see that cane she's leaning on? She took a spear through the chest, piercing
not only her heart, but her spine as well. For a while, she couldn't walk at
all. She's much better now, though."
Veronica Giver-of-Hope
> the ladykiller with the bag alone at a table, the nymph in the violet
> catsuit with her collection of admirers, the guy in the ten-gallon hat,
> the marine in white on the cell phone....yeah...the guy on the phone.
> He'd suddenly become interested in something. The stranger gave Nick a
> long, cold stare and drank the glass dry.
Dana turned, a chill having run up her spine when the stranger walked
in. "Ooooo, he's *hot*!"
Marie turns, a cup of punch in hand. "Only *you* would think so, you
silly wolf!" The albino chuckles, then yelps as Dana elbows her sharply.
"So I'm attracted to dangerous types, what's the big deal? A lot of
women are!" Dana takes an incautious sip from her own glass, then chokes
at the metallic taste. "Gaaah, shit, forgot! Pleh!" She takes a drink from
her water bottle to rinse the flavor of blood from her mouth, then scowls
at her best friend, who only laughs again. "One of these days, you
bloodsucking hedonist, I *will* get even."
"You shouldn't be imbibing alcohol, anyway; its not good for the
baby."
"Bull, my own mother was sipping Kahlua and Cream while she was
carrying Darien and I, and you see that we're both perfectly all right."
Marie bites her lip and rolls her eyes a bit, somehow managing to keep
silent, then sees Charmaine booking it.
"Hmm, I wonder where *she's* off to in such a hurry..."
Meanwhile, Rebecca turns to Veronica. "You want this one, or should I
handle it?"
"I think *you'd* better; this bloody cane would slow me down too much.
Besides, he *looked* at you with one of those *looks*. Just make sure no
innocents get hurt, and be careful of your wrist; you don't want people
any more suspicious than they already are." Veronica leaned back,
carefully, against the wall, taking a thoughtful sip as her friend moved
off to keep a close eye on the dangerous-looking Italian.
Meanwhile, Sister of Wolves merely stood back and watched; she would
act if it were needed, and only then.
Veronica Giver-of-Hope
> finely chisled, he had the characters of a real ladykiller. (app.4, style 4)
> In his right hand he carried a black bag, canvas, about two nd a half feet
> long. He appoached the matre'd and smiled.
Dana continued to watch, as she was wont. "Ooooo, purrrrr, he's even better."
Marie turned, an eyebrow arched. "Warlock; careful, that one's the one most
likely to give you away, if your belly doesn't for you." She poked her friend
gently through her purple silk blouse. "Actually, I'm not too sure *who* would be
the most trouble, should the truth be revealed about you."
Rebecca paused in her stealthful pursuit of Trouble, any and all color draining
from her face as she semi-recognized Mr. Harris. //Oh, bloody hell! Just what I
*don't* need.// Cole briefly catches the glint of light off of her brooch, before
she turns back to her surveillance.
nefe...@my-deja.com
Veronica Giver-of-Hope <hda...@pcisys.net> wrote:
> > The DJ moved to classic 70s dance tunes as Corinna took up position
on a bar stool to watch the others arrive.
>
them is wearing a burgundy, floor-length, off-the-shoulders, velvet
dress. She is about 5'2" tall with long dark brown hair, pale skin and
blue eyes. She had a few pieces of jewelry on - a leather choker with a
rose pendant, amber earings, several rings with amber set in them, and a
rose broach. She looked shyly around waiting for her friend to catch up
with her. The other young women - one wore a flowing silk skirt and
blouse. She was about the same height as the first though she had long
black hair and blue eyes. She wore quite a few necklaces and a pair of
earings. She was more outgoing then the first.
The second young women walked up (with the first in tow) to the
bouncers and said "I'm Eliza Smith and this is Nefertina Mauchan, a
friend of mine. Nefertina has been through a lot lately in Halifax and
I thought that she needed a vacation from Halifax. It has been rather
stressful lately in Halifax."
Nefertina smiled shyly to the bouncers and said "Hi, my name is
Nefertina Lynne Mauchan. I haven't been outside of Halifax for a couple
of years."
Nefertina Mauchan
clan Toreador
Eliza Smith
clan Ravnos
Sent via Deja.com http://www.deja.com/
Share what you know. Learn what you don't.
Geoff
through
> >the air backwards, flailing wildly, to land some feet away,
skidding
> >to a halt. The stranger, still marching purposely forward and
> >remaining expressionless, casually adjusted his suit and headed
> >towards the bar. On the way, he snatches an empty glass from one of
> >the tables in Nick Barton's line of sight and passes the
congregations
> >of other guests. Reaching one of the punch bowls, he scoops up a
hefty
> >glassful of alcohol-laced blood and drinks from it deeply.
Finishing
> >it in one gulp, he scoops up another as he wipes his blood-stained
> >lips clean with the back of his left hand.
>
nearby table.
> /Trouble with a capitol "T". Why does he look so damn familiar?/
Nick
> pondered for a moment, then got on his cell phone. /Wait a minute.
He does
> look familiar./ "Bob? It's Nick. Ah need ya ta check th' database
fer me.
> Lookin' fer a guy that fits th' followin' description....." Nick
rattles off
> the description of the stranger.
As the stranger rose a second glass to his lips, he looked over the
rim and, turning slowly, took in his general surroundings. Targeting
for the troublemakers was so easy it had almost become a reflex
action. The trick was to watch for the ones who reacted behind your
back. Studiously, he clocked the raven haired child sporting the
warlock seal, the ladykiller with the bag alone at a table, the nymph
in the violet catsuit with her collection of admirers, the guy in the
ten-gallon hat, the marine in white on the cell phone....yeah...the
guy on the phone. He'd suddenly become interested in something. The
stranger gave Nick a long, cold stare and drank the glass dry.
> <Searching database. Stand by........matching description found,
under the
> name of....> The computer gives him the name of the stranger, who
is now
> standing at the bar and scooping up handfuls of bloodwine from the
punchbowl
> and sucking it into his mouth. "Oh, shit, a real tickin' time-bomb.
Bob,
> bookmark that description an' send word to th' local Prince that
he's at th'
> Picture House. Infiltrate th' security system an' keep an' eye on
'im."
>
> <Acknowledged. Infiltrating security systems.......infiltration
complete.
> Sentry program in progress.>
>
> Nick closed up the cell phone and started to look for the owner of
the
> building.
Either the marine had just been stood up by his date and was looking
for the bill, or the cavalry were now on their way. It didn't matter.
"Time enough..." whispered the stranger, scooping up a third glassful.
"Excuse me?" came a voice behind him. He turned and looked over his
shoulder to the bar and found himself gazing down on a bartender.
"What's that you say? Say, hadn't you better slow down a little there,
don't you know that stuff's..."
The stranger cut him short as he slammed down the glass on the bar,
spilling a good portion of it's contents. He ignited a chilling smile,
turned to face the bartender and looked at him with cold eyes. Leaning
forward slightly, he said, "What the Hell do you think you're talking
too, slave?"
"F..fr ..for God's sake, sir, " stammered the bartender, suddenly
overcome with a wave of panic, "All I was trying to say was..."
"Do I look like I give a damn what God thinks?" retorted the strange,
virtually in monotone.
"S..se..sorry. I...I..."
"Save it!" The stranger wiped his lips with the back of his hand and
continued with, "Listen, all I want from you right now is a phone. You
got that? You gotta phone in this dungeon?"
"Y..ye..yes..."
"Where?"
"Wh...where?"
"Yeah, that's right. Where's the phone. How hard can it be to figure
out? You do work here don't you?"
"Yes! I...I..do...but..."
"So where's the f**king phone?"
"R...ri...right over there, by the ge...gents." The bartender pointed
nervously.
"See!" said the stranger, draining the remains of his glass in a
single gulp. "That wasn't too bad, was it?" He turned round again,
glass still raised, and scanned over the dance floor once more.
Locating the payphone, he started to pace over to it, stopping only to
recharge his glass for a fourth time.
Behind him, the bartender breathed a sigh of relief and noted one of
the bouncers, looking dazed, slowly picking himself off the floor.
> Nick Barton, Clan Ventrue
PKieferjr
<ge...@pigou.freeserve.co.uk> writes:
Nick heard the commotion, then saw the man grab a glass from a nearby table.
/Trouble with a capitol "T". Why does he look so damn familiar? Nick pondered
for a moment, then got on his cell phone. /Wait a minute. He does look
familiar./ "Bob? It's Nick. Ah need ya ta check th' database fer me. Lookin'
fer a guy that fits th' followin' description....." Nick rattles off the
description of the stranger.
As the stranger rose a second glass to his lips, he looked over the
rim and, turning slowly, took in his general surroundings. Targeting
for the troublemakers was so easy it had almost become a reflex
action. The trick was to watch for the ones who reacted behind your
back. Studiously, he clocked the raven haired child sporting the
warlock seal, the ladykiller with the bag alone at a table, the nymph
in the violet catsuit with her collection of admirers, the guy in the
ten-gallon hat, the marine in white on the cell phone....yeah...the
guy on the phone. He'd suddenly become interested in something. The
stranger gave Nick a long, cold stare and drank the glass dry.
Nick noticed the stranger staring at him. Nick returned the stare, just as
hard, before continuing with his errand.
"S..se..sorry. I...I..."
That moderate outburst got Nick's attention. "Oh, shit, he's startin' ta go
off th' deep end already." He quickened his pace, noticing the downed bouncer
near the entrance.
"Y..ye..yes..."
"Where?"
"Wh...where?"
"Yeah, that's right. Where's the phone. How hard can it be to figure
out? You do work here don't you?"
"Yes! I...I..do...but..."
"So where's the f**king phone?"
"R...ri...right over there, by the ge...gents." The bartender pointed
nervously.
"See!" said the stranger, draining the remains of his glass in a
single gulp. "That wasn't too bad, was it?" He turned round again,
glass still raised, and scanned over the dance floor once more.
Locating the payphone, he started to pace over to it, stopping only to
recharge his glass for a fourth time.
Nick reopened his cell phone as the stranger made his way to the pay phone.
"Bob, it's Nick. Red alert time. Check that guy Ah told ya about. He's about
ta make a phone call. Check th' number an' trace it. Ah wanna know whar it
goes."
<Acknowledged. Processing will take time. Do you wish to procede?>
"Yeah, an' hurry it up. We're in crisis mode here."
<Acknowledge. You will be notified by your cell phone.>
Nick closed up the phone and continued to the entrance.
Behind him, the bartender breathed a sigh of relief and noted one of
the bouncers, looking dazed, slowly picking himself off the floor.
Nick stopped to help the bouncer to his feet. "Here ya go, son. Gently, now.
How 'bout pointin' me to th' owner of this establishment...an' whatever ya do,
don't call th' police just yet. Jus' remain calm, okay. We'll get through
this okay if'n we keep our heads together on this one."
Nick Barton, Clan Ventrue
SFryar
<matthew....@cableinet.co.dot.uk> writes:
>SFryar <sfr...@aol.com> wrote in message
>news:19990605140422...@ngol02.aol.com...
>> In article <37586650...@pcisys.net>, Veronica Giver-of-Hope
>> <hda...@pcisys.net> writes:
>>
>> >> The DJ moved to classic 70s dance tunes as Corinna took up position on
>a
>> >bar
>> >> stool to watch the others arrive.
<snippage of early arrivals...>
"Thank you..." Charmaine said with a smile.
"Hello, Misha!" Charmaine said as she hugged him warmly. "It's so good to see
you, too! I love what you've done here. This is wonderful!"
>He turned to look at Micki, obviously enjoying what he saw.
>"Hello. I don't think we've had the pleasure." He extended his hand to her,
>and glanced at Charmaine, hoping for an introduction.
Charmaine smiled and said, "Misha, this is Micki Channing... She's a good
friend of mine. Micki, this is Misha Young."
"I'm pleased to meet you, Misha." Micki said with a bright grin as she clasped
his hand in a firm grip. "Charmaine's told me about you, and it's so good to
finally meet you.This is such an awesome place!"
>Corinna approached Charmaine hesitantly.
>"Hello Charmaine." She looked her up and down, once, and smiled nervously.
"Hello, Corinna." Charmaine said warmly as she gave her an affectionate hug.
"I'm so happy to see you. What do you think of my outfit?"
>"Very nice. It's, um," she searched for an appropriate word, but her
>knowledge of fashion got the better of her. "It's very blue."
Charmaine laughted softly and said, "I'm glad that you like it. Marcus made it
for me as a spur-of-the-moment gift. He says that blue is one of my best
colors." She looked at Corinna and asked, "Is there something that you want to
tell me?"
>She seemed to summon all of her courage up at once, and began to speak. "I'm
>sorry I ran out on you in Chicago. It was rude of me not to tell you where I
>was going, but to be honest, I didn't really know myself. I had to sort out
>some problems. I believe you Americans would say I have 'issues'." She
>smiled again, weakly.
Charmaine looked at Corinna with great empathy, and replied quietly, "I
understand, Corinna. What happened to you those last few weeks in Chicago
weren't easy ones, and I can understand a little of what you've been going
through." She hugged her gently and said, "I didn't know whether you planned to
come back to Chicago or not, so I brought you your last paycheck..." She
pulled out a pale-pink colored check from her purse and handed it to her. "I
have a feeling that this may come in handy."
>> Charmaine and Micki
>> (OOC: Can they make an entrance or what? <g>)
>(OOC: Well they've certainly made an impression on me! <g>)
(OOC: Thanx. <g>)
>--
>Corinna Nugent
>Lasombra Freelance
>--
>Misha Young
>Toreador Vocalist
>--
>Matt Griffiths
Charmaine and Micki
SFryar
>> Those Kindred sensitive to such things felt his presence a few
>moments
>> before the entrance to the Picture House was occupied by his dark,
>> brooding form. He stood well over 6' tall - possibly as much as 7' -
>> and his stature was truly imposing, almost threatening - a strength
>of
>> form that could be likened to the pillar of order that the Ventrue
>> elite might present. His short, jet black locks where combed back on
>> his scalp and, despite the deathly pallor of his pale flesh, his
>> attractively chiselled features almost belied Sicilian descent. He
>> wore a black, richly tailored suit of the current vogue,
>complemented
>> by a plain black, polo-necked shirt, which gave him the shadowy
>visage
>> of a Lasombre. The overall effect of these disparate ingredients
>gave
>> him the appearance of the classic modern vampire - tall, dark and
>very
>> handsome. Yet his stance in the doorway, accompanied by his stern,
>> emotionless countenance, presented a figure that oozed danger - the
>> kind of guy you turn your face from and hope to God has paid you no
>> heed.
Charmaine had noticed the stranger standing in the doorway shortly after Micki
came in behind her. She was glad to get away from there as quickly as possible
as the two of them went toward the dance floor.
"Oh, shit...." Charmaine said as she saw the doors open wide and the man
entered the room, preceded by the flying bouncer. "Let's get out of here,
Micki."
>As both doors to the dance floor parted, the bouncer was flung through
>the air backwards, flailing wildly, to land some feet away, skidding
>to a halt. The stranger, still marching purposely forward and
>remaining expressionless, casually adjusted his suit and headed
>towards the bar. On the way, he snatches an empty glass from one of
>the tables in Nick Barton's line of sight and passes the congregations
>of other guests. Reaching one of the punch bowls, he scoops up a hefty
>glassful of alcohol-laced blood and drinks from it deeply. Finishing
>it in one gulp, he scoops up another as he wipes his blood-stained
>lips clean with the back of his left hand.
The two women left the dance floor, looking for a safe spot to hide out until
the commotion died down.
"Who the heck _is_ he, Charmaine?" Micki whispered to her as they sat at a
nearby table as far away from the chaos as possible.
"I dunno for sure, Micki..." Charmaine said as she struggled to break away from
looking at the stranger's aura. "but, I can tell you that he's bad news... very
bad news." She closed her eyes in order to break her concentration on the
stranger's aura. She felt the tension in the room ease up a little, but she
felt a bit nervous, and she didn't know why. Her first thought was to grab
Micki and make a dash for the door, but Charmaine knew that it would be rude to
do that, so, she battled her panic until it finally eased up.
"Are you okay, Charmaine?" Micki asked, her voice holding a note of concern.
"Have you seen that guy before?"
"I'm not sure, Micki." Charmaine replied slowly. "He looks like someone that I
might have seen before someplace else... but I'm not sure."
.
>[OOC: Do You Know This Man?: H'okay, anyone with any reasonable (USA
>based) media, police, law or underworld influence is going to
>*vaguely* recognise this guy. He sorta looks like the guy the American
>media dubbed 'The Firestarter' back in the early 90's. Basically, the
>Firestarter was kinda like one of those 'super villains' you find in
>big budget Hollywood flicks (like Passenger 57, Die Hard, etc). You
>know, the sort of guy involved in aircraft hi-jacking, major arms/drug
>dealing, international terrorism, etc - a criminal mastermind and
>total psychopath. It took seven SWAT teams and one of those 'super
>cops' (as seen in Lethal Weapon, Speed, etc) to take him down. At the
>now infamous trial, the Firestarter was sentenced to the chair and
>sent to 'death row' at a maximum security prison, someplace in Nevada.
>If you have very good underworld ties, you may have heard the *rumour*
>that, although this guy was supposed to have been shot dead whilst
>escaping, his body was never recovered. This is Fame 4, guys.]
>
>[OOC: Can You Read His Aura?: If you've got level two Auspex (or
>better), you're in for an unpleasant surprise. The stranger's aura is
>a hypnotic swirl of pale light blue tones, heavily 'stained' by a
>plethora of black veins. Grab your V:tM rule book and have fun
>figuring it out <g>]
(OOC: Charmaine can... and it's got her *REAL* nervous. <g>)
>
>The Stranger
>http://www.pigou.freeserve.co.uk/RedCity/
>*remove NOSPAM to reply*
Charmaine & Micki
Geoff
>
> "R...ri...right over there, by the ge...gents." The bartender
pointed
> nervously.
>
> "See!" said the stranger, draining the remains of his glass in a
> single gulp. "That wasn't too bad, was it?" He turned round again,
> glass still raised, and scanned over the dance floor once more.
> Locating the payphone, he started to pace over to it, stopping only
to
> recharge his glass for a fourth time.
>
> Nick reopened his cell phone as the stranger made his way to the pay
phone.
> "Bob, it's Nick. Red alert time. Check that guy Ah told ya about.
He's about
> ta make a phone call. Check th' number an' trace it. Ah wanna know
whar it
> goes."
"You're shittin' me," thought the stranger, catching sight of Nick out
the corner of his eye. "Isn't that guy *ever* off the phone?" he joked
to himself as he continued to wade through the crowd.
> <Acknowledged. Processing will take time. Do you wish to proceed?>
>
> "Yeah, an' hurry it up. We're in crisis mode here."
>
> <Acknowledge. You will be notified by your cell phone.>
>
> Nick closed up the phone and continued to the entrance.
>
> Behind [the stranger], the bartender breathed a sigh of relief and
noted one of
> the bouncers, looking dazed, slowly picking himself off the floor.
>
> Nick stopped to help the bouncer to his feet. "Here ya go, son.
Gently, now.
> How 'bout pointin' me to th' owner of this establishment...an'
whatever ya do,
> don't call th' police just yet. Jus' remain calm, okay. We'll get
through
> this okay if'n we keep our heads together on this one."
Brushing near to where Charmaine, Micki and Misha were gathered, the
stranger casually looked over his shoulder to unobtrusively check on
Nick's activities. Losing him for a moment, he caught sight of him
fussing over the unfortunate bouncer. "Damn it, I hate it when I'm
right!" he hissed softly.
Maintaining his pace, the stranger turned his head and pressed on
towards the payphone booth, pausing only to reappraise the miniature
form of Rebecca Addams with a casual glance. The Tremere seemed to
fascinate him for a brief moment as he continued on his march.
Reaching the payphone, the stranger stopped, frowned as he stared at
it for a moment and then started to rummage through his pockets.
Checking his breast pocket, he retrieved a black leather wallet, which
he proceeded to explore with interest, noting the various forms of
plastic contained within. Raising an eyebrow, he even took the time to
count what appeared to a considerable sum in notes, before finally
taking out a couple of gold coins and putting the wallet away. Palming
one coin and inserting the other in the slot, he picked up the
receiver and dialled. Leaning against the phone booth, he scanned his
eyes over the dance floor once more as he waited for his call to
connect. He scratched his nose for a moment.
There was a click from the earpiece and a peaceful female voice
intoned the words, "The number you have dialled cannot be reached.
Please check the number and try again."
"F**k!" the stranger exclaimed, crashing the receiver down with such
force that the casing shattered, spinning shards of plastic in all
directions. The body of the phone was a ruin of wrenched metal.
Casting his gaze across the club again, he narrowed his eyes and drank
his fourth glass dry. "That's just great!" he sighed, looking up at
the gallery, taking in the lightshow and the throng of dancers. "Well,
while I'm here..." he mused as he settled his eyes on the guests laid
out before him, "...I may as well make the most of it..."
[OOC: What Bob Discovers: A connection was not possible so the call
cannot be traced, but the international number dialled *was*
registered to a trailer park payphone in Mexico State. Bob will take a
while to search the old databases required to retrieve this
information; the phone was pulled out of service in 1996. When ever
you think Bob can compile the data, Nick's phone will alert him to
it.]
> Nick Barton, Clan Ventrue
PKieferjr
<ge...@pigou.freeserve.co.uk> writes:
>There was a click from the earpiece and a peaceful female voice
>intoned the words, "The number you have dialled cannot be reached.
>Please check the number and try again."
>
>"F**k!" the stranger exclaimed, crashing the receiver down with such
>force that the casing shattered, spinning shards of plastic in all
>directions. The body of the phone was a ruin of wrenched metal.
>Casting his gaze across the club again, he narrowed his eyes and drank
>his fourth glass dry. "That's just great!" he sighed, looking up at
>the gallery, taking in the lightshow and the throng of dancers. "Well,
>while I'm here..." he mused as he settled his eyes on the guests laid
>out before him, "...I may as well make the most of it..."
>
Nick overhears the crash (and, most likely, so did everyone else. /Ma Bell's
gonna have fits with that one./ He knew that this might be dangerous, having
left his weapons in his car. /Okay, all Ah hafta do is stay calm an' watch how
things turn out. Mebbe if'n we get lucky, he just goes away. If not, then
we're up a very messy tributary of water without any means of propulsion, save
fer swimmin', an' th' gators are startin' ta gather./ Nick made a mental note
of all the available avenues of exit, then scanned the room to see who was
nearby. /Lessee.....th' familiar ones Ah see are Charmaine an' Micki so
far......then Becky, Veronica, Marie, an' that Sis' of Wolves girl. Every body
else is a stranger to me. Better let 'em know that things are gonna get hairy
here./
Nick Barton, Clan Ventrue.
AdamRLee
>better."
> Marie turned, an eyebrow arched. "Warlock; careful, that one's the one
>most
>likely to give you away, if your belly doesn't for you." She poked her friend
>gently through her purple silk blouse. "Actually, I'm not too sure *who*
>would be
>the most trouble, should the truth be revealed about you."
>
> Rebecca paused in her stealthful pursuit of Trouble, any and all color
>draining
>from her face as she semi-recognized Mr. Harris. //Oh, bloody hell! Just what
>I
>*don't* need.// Cole briefly catches the glint of light off of her brooch,
>before
>she turns back to her surveillance.
>
>
OOC: I don't mean to be a wet blanket but no one here but Chester has ever met
Cole Harris. The only way they could recognize him is if they heard him give
his name to the bouncer, which was quick and discreet. So, with that in mind
it would be wise to disregard all but the first sentance as impossible.
Adam
Veronica Giver-of-Hope
> gonna have fits with that one./ He knew that this might be dangerous, having
> left his weapons in his car. /Okay, all Ah hafta do is stay calm an' watch how
> things turn out. Mebbe if'n we get lucky, he just goes away. If not, then we're
> up a very messy tributary of water without any means of propulsion, save fer
> swimmin', an' th' gators are startin' ta gather./ Nick made a mental note of all
> the available avenues of exit, then scanned the room to see who was nearby.
> /Lessee.....th' familiar ones Ah see are Charmaine an' Micki so far......then
> Becky, Veronica, Marie, an' that Sis' of Wolves girl. Every body else is a
> stranger to me. Better let 'em know that things are gonna get hairy here./
Both Dana and Marie flinch at the cracking noise, and Rebecca jumps about a
foot off of the floor before returning to Veronica's side. The white-haired vampire
is studiously ignoring the Sicilian's tantrum, while at the same time slowly
spinning the head of her cane loose, while Sister of Wolves almost has to ask
someone to physically restrain her before she goes after Trouble. She allows
herself an unfriendly scowl, slowly tapping her short, neat, blue-painted nails on
her powerfully muscled upper arms. Marie studies the nasty-looking man briefly
using the Sight, and promptly (but gently) sets her punch-glass down. The two
room-mates briefly discuss options (in Japanese, just in case someone may be
eavesdropping), then make their way towards Nick, Marie just barely remembering her
violin-case.
Nick finds himself with an attractive young woman on each side, chattering
gaily. "Oh, Nick, I damn near forgot, this is Dana Shields, my room-mate and best
friend."
"Hiya, handsome." As they chatter animatedly, both with eachother and with him,
both stress certain words carefully, until the message they're trying to get
through to him is, ~Call for help NOW.~
Matt Griffiths
Veronica Giver-of-Hope <hda...@pcisys.net> wrote in message
news:375B474B...@pcisys.net...
"Ouch! It's good to see that she's okay now," he said, a look of concern on
his face. He caught sight of Charmaine and her guest arriving out of the
corner of his eye. "I gotta go, I've just spotted Charmaine. You enjoy the
rest of the party, Brigit (sp?)."
PKieferjr
<hda...@pcisys.net> writes:
> Both Dana and Marie flinch at the cracking noise, and Rebecca jumps about
>a
>foot off of the floor before returning to Veronica's side. The white-haired
>vampire
>is studiously ignoring the Sicilian's tantrum, while at the same time slowly
>spinning the head of her cane loose, while Sister of Wolves almost has to ask
>someone to physically restrain her before she goes after Trouble. She allows
>herself an unfriendly scowl, slowly tapping her short, neat, blue-painted
>nails on
>her powerfully muscled upper arms. Marie studies the nasty-looking man
>briefly
>using the Sight, and promptly (but gently) sets her punch-glass down. The two
>room-mates briefly discuss options (in Japanese, just in case someone may be
>eavesdropping), then make their way towards Nick, Marie just barely
>remembering her
>violin-case.
> Nick finds himself with an attractive young woman on each side,
>chattering
>gaily. "Oh, Nick, I damn near forgot, this is Dana Shields, my room-mate and
>best
>friend."
> "Hiya, handsome."
"Howdy."
As they chatter animatedly, both with each other and with him, both stress
certain words carefully, until the message they're trying to get through to him
is, ~Call for help NOW.~
Nick surveys the area, then speaks to them sotto voce to avoid letting anyone
in on the discussion.
"Okay, lissen ta me real carefully. That guy that ya heard breakin' th' phone
is a known psychopath. Reports say that he died in some explosion, but th'
body wasn't found. This guy can take on ten men without breakin' a sweat, an'
he's got th' anger ta boot. Now, Ah figger that th' only reason that he's here
today is either he's damn lucky....or he's been Embraced. Bad enough that
psychos get an adrenaline rush. Bring in th' Kindred factor, an' that's askin'
fer deadly trouble. Right now, th' last thing we need is fer this guy ta start
goin' off th' deep end, especially when thar's innocents in th' way. Our best
move at th' moment is ta stay calm an' stay outta th' way. We dare not do
anything that'll get 'im riled up. Go find th' others an' tell 'em ta give
this guy a wide berth, an' don't do anything stupid. Ah've already sent word
to th' Prince of this town. Right now, Ah'm lookin' fer th' owner of this
establishment an' warnin' that person about 'im. That person's gonna have th'
call on how ta proceed with this."
Nick Barton, Clan Ventrue
Matt Griffiths
<snip>
> >After speaking with Sister of Wolves, Misha and Corinna approached the
pair.
> >"Charmaine! Good to see you again," he said.
>
> "Hello, Misha!" Charmaine said as she hugged him warmly. "It's so good to
see
> you, too! I love what you've done here. This is wonderful!"
"Thanks, but I really can't take credit. It was like this when I got here,"
he said, smiling.
> >He turned to look at Micki, obviously enjoying what he saw.
> >"Hello. I don't think we've had the pleasure." He extended his hand to
her,
> >and glanced at Charmaine, hoping for an introduction.
>
> Charmaine smiled and said, "Misha, this is Micki Channing... She's a good
> friend of mine. Micki, this is Misha Young."
>
> "I'm pleased to meet you, Misha." Micki said with a bright grin as she
clasped
> his hand in a firm grip. "Charmaine's told me about you, and it's so good
to
> finally meet you.This is such an awesome place!"
"Likewise, Micki, likewise. I see you've got the authentic "Miss Kensington"
look tonight. Very nice," he said, suggesting from his tone of voice that he
had a lot of experience judging this particular kind of art form.
> >Corinna approached Charmaine hesitantly.
> >"Hello Charmaine." She looked her up and down, once, and smiled
nervously.
>
> "Hello, Corinna." Charmaine said warmly as she gave her an affectionate
hug.
> "I'm so happy to see you. What do you think of my outfit?"
Corinna hesitated for a second, then returned the hug.
"Thanks Charmaine." Corinna was about to continue with something polite like
"you shouldn't have" or "this isn't necessary", but deep down, she knew that
she needed all the support she could get, so she just said "Thanks," again.
She folded the cheque once and secreted it in a pocket.
> Charmaine and Micki
Matt Griffiths
<nefe...@my-deja.com> wrote in message news:7jf4of$9ro$1...@nnrp1.deja.com...
> In article <37586650...@pcisys.net>,
> Veronica Giver-of-Hope <hda...@pcisys.net> wrote:
> > > The DJ moved to classic 70s dance tunes as Corinna took up position
> on a bar stool to watch the others arrive.
> >
The bouncer checked on the clipboard for some time until he found their
names and ticked them off.
"Oh, yeah, the late additions. Go right on in, ladies."
--
Matt
Matt Griffiths
PKieferjr <pkie...@aol.com> wrote in message
news:19990606124502...@ngol07.aol.com...
> >the air backwards, flailing wildly, to land some feet away, skidding
> >to a halt. The stranger, still marching purposely forward and
> >remaining expressionless, casually adjusted his suit and headed
> >towards the bar. On the way, he snatches an empty glass from one of
> >the tables in Nick Barton's line of sight and passes the congregations
> >of other guests. Reaching one of the punch bowls, he scoops up a hefty
> >glassful of alcohol-laced blood and drinks from it deeply. Finishing
> >it in one gulp, he scoops up another as he wipes his blood-stained
> >lips clean with the back of his left hand.
> >
>
table.
> pondered for a moment, then got on his cell phone. /Wait a minute. He
does
> look familiar./ "Bob? It's Nick. Ah need ya ta check th' database fer
me.
> Lookin' fer a guy that fits th' followin' description....." Nick rattles
off
> the description of the stranger.
>
the
> name of....> The computer gives him the name of the stranger, who is now
> standing at the bar and scooping up handfuls of bloodwine from the
punchbowl
> and sucking it into his mouth. "Oh, shit, a real tickin' time-bomb. Bob,
> bookmark that description an' send word to th' local Prince that he's at
th'
> Picture House. Infiltrate th' security system an' keep an' eye on 'im."
OOC: Don't know if you noticed from the posting on the mailing list, but
there is no local Prince any more. The closest Bob would get would be the
headquarters of the Revolutionary Council. Although there's somebody there,
most of the members are here in the club.
--
Matt
Matt Griffiths
"You've just found him," said a male voice from behind the Texan. "Is there
something I should know about?" Turning around (I'm assuming that Nick does,
sorry if I'm posing), Nick saw the owner of the voice. He was 6 foot and
well-built, dressed head to toe in black, the sombre tone of his clothing
offset by sparkling silver jewellery.
"I'm the owner, Misha Young. I don't believe we've met, sir."
> Nick Barton, Clan Ventrue
Matt Griffiths
Geoff <ge...@pigou.freeserve.co.uk> wrote in message
news:7jfgei$ucr$1...@news4.svr.pol.co.uk...
> intoned the words, "The number you have dialled cannot be reached.
> Please check the number and try again."
>
> "F**k!" the stranger exclaimed, crashing the receiver down with such
> force that the casing shattered, spinning shards of plastic in all
> directions. The body of the phone was a ruin of wrenched metal.
> Casting his gaze across the club again, he narrowed his eyes and drank
> his fourth glass dry. "That's just great!" he sighed, looking up at
> the gallery, taking in the lightshow and the throng of dancers. "Well,
> while I'm here..." he mused as he settled his eyes on the guests laid
> out before him, "...I may as well make the most of it..."
As the stranger tuned around, he was almost nose to nose with a woman. She
was incredibly beautiful, and had an air of grace about her (App. 4, Dex.
4). She grinned. This was not the smile of someone trying to put another at
ease. It was the expression of a warrior, baring her fangs to show her
opponent that she meant business.
"Is there a problem I can help you with, sir?"
<snip>
> The Stranger
> http://www.pigou.freeserve.co.uk/RedCity/
> *remove NOSPAM to reply*
--
Corinna Nugent
Lasombra
--
Matt
Irina Zantosa-Bathory
>>
>A couple more young women visiting from Halifax entered the club. One of
>them is wearing a burgundy, floor-length, off-the-shoulders, velvet
>dress. She is about 5'2" tall with long dark brown hair, pale skin and
>blue eyes. She had a few pieces of jewelry on - a leather choker with a
>rose pendant, amber earings, several rings with amber set in them, and a
>rose broach. She looked shyly around waiting for her friend to catch up
>with her. The other young women - one wore a flowing silk skirt and
>blouse. She was about the same height as the first though she had long
>black hair and blue eyes. She wore quite a few necklaces and a pair of
>earings. She was more outgoing then the first.
>
>The second young women walked up (with the first in tow) to the
>bouncers and said "I'm Eliza Smith and this is Nefertina Mauchan, a
>friend of mine. Nefertina has been through a lot lately in Halifax and
>I thought that she needed a vacation from Halifax. It has been rather
>stressful lately in Halifax."
>
>Nefertina smiled shyly to the bouncers and said "Hi, my name is
>Nefertina Lynne Mauchan. I haven't been outside of Halifax for a couple
>of years."
>
Following behind the two ladies from Halifax is a strange pair of women.
The one the bouncers notice first is a tall strikingly beautiful woman
with night black hair and pale blue eyes. She is wearing a long black
dress and her only jewellery is a pair of gold earrings in the shape of
a Dragon holding a sword and a pendant bearing the symbol of Clan
Tremere.
Walking behind her is a shorter woman dressed in fashionable but cheap
clothes, she also wears little jewellery the most notable being a ring
in the form of a serpent swallowing it's own tail.
The tall one speaks. "Irina Szantovich-Bathory" Then she pauses looks
at the shorter woman without much affection and sighs "And guest."
Entering the club both women look a little lost, the shorter ones eyes
look like they will come out on stalks at any minute.
"Oh Wow! Are all these people Kindred like us?"
"Look for yourself" Irina replies letting her Auspex scan the room. Her
gaze rests briefly on the big man by the phones.
"Trouble" She mutters to her companion, then she continues to sweep the
room.
"Is it me." Her companion asks "Or are there a lot of worried people in
here?"
"Lots of worried people" Replies Irina.
"Hey!" The short woman tugs at Irina. "That woman over there, the big
one next to the albino, she looks pregnant. And her colours are all
funny."
"Aura, Jane Aura. Anyway what do you mean fu- God in heaven!"
Irina looks around to see if anyone caught her outburst then with Jane
in tow makes her way over toward Marie and Dana. Adding yet another
worried Aura to the room.
"I just wish I recognised somebody" She mutters to Jane.
"Well from what My Si- Istvan told me, the woman in the blue dress might
well be Charmaine MacLendon, and he says she can be trusted."
>Nefertina Mauchan
>clan Toreador
>
>Eliza Smith
>clan Ravnos
>
Irina Szantovitch-Bathory
Jane
SFryar
>> "So where's the f**king phone?"
>>
>> "R...ri...right over there, by the ge...gents." The bartender
>pointed
>> nervously.
>>
>> "See!" said the stranger, draining the remains of his glass in a
>> single gulp. "That wasn't too bad, was it?" He turned round again,
>> glass still raised, and scanned over the dance floor once more.
>> Locating the payphone, he started to pace over to it, stopping only
>to
>> recharge his glass for a fourth time.
>>
>> Nick reopened his cell phone as the stranger made his way to the pay
>phone.
>> "Bob, it's Nick. Red alert time. Check that guy Ah told ya about.
>He's about
>> ta make a phone call. Check th' number an' trace it. Ah wanna know
>whar it
>> goes."
Micki looked toward the spot where the commotion was going on and she whispered
to Charmaine, "Isn't that Nick Barton over there?"
Charmaine looked up and whispered back to her, "Yes, it is... Seems like
wherever Nick goes these nights, something always happens."
>"You're shittin' me," thought the stranger, catching sight of Nick out
>the corner of his eye. "Isn't that guy *ever* off the phone?" he joked
>to himself as he continued to wade through the crowd.
>
>> <Acknowledged. Processing will take time. Do you wish to proceed?>
>>
>> "Yeah, an' hurry it up. We're in crisis mode here."
>>
>> <Acknowledge. You will be notified by your cell phone.>
>>
>> Nick closed up the phone and continued to the entrance.
>>
>> Behind [the stranger], the bartender breathed a sigh of relief and
>noted one of
>> the bouncers, looking dazed, slowly picking himself off the floor.
>>
>> Nick stopped to help the bouncer to his feet. "Here ya go, son.
>Gently, now.
>> How 'bout pointin' me to th' owner of this establishment...an'
>whatever ya do,
>> don't call th' police just yet. Jus' remain calm, okay. We'll get
>through
>> this okay if'n we keep our heads together on this one."
>
>Brushing near to where Charmaine, Micki and Misha were gathered, the
>stranger casually looked over his shoulder to unobtrusively check on
>Nick's activities. Losing him for a moment, he caught sight of him
>fussing over the unfortunate bouncer. "Damn it, I hate it when I'm
>right!" he hissed softly.
Charmaine did her best not to remember the strange mix of colors that had
swirled around the stranger earlier, and she hoped that this man would pass
them by without noticing them.
As she watched the stranger at the pay phone, Charmaine's memories were
flooding her mind, and she recalled something that she and Richard diGiovanni
had talked about a few years ago. She quelled the memory for the moment,
because she didn't know if the stranger could read minds. If he did, Charmaine
knew that she would be putting herself in danger if he could pick up on her
thoughts.
"Charmaine? Charmaine? Are you sure that you're okay?" Micki asked her.
"Would you like something to drink?"
"Yes... As a matter of fact, Micki, I could use a good strong drink right about
now." Charmaine replied to her, as she felt a wave of relief sweep over her
when she saw Nick.
"Good." Micki said with a smile. "Perhaps we can talk to Nick for a while.
You've told me so much about him, and I'd like the chance to meet him, at long
last."
>[OOC: What Bob Discovers: A connection was not possible so the call
>cannot be traced, but the international number dialled *was*
>registered to a trailer park payphone in Mexico State. Bob will take a
>while to search the old databases required to retrieve this
>information; the phone was pulled out of service in 1996. When ever
>you think Bob can compile the data, Nick's phone will alert him to
>it.]
>
>> Nick Barton, Clan Ventrue
>
>The Stranger
>http://www.pigou.freeserve.co.uk/RedCity/
>*remove NOSPAM to reply*
Charmaine and Micki
Geoff
> after Micki came in behind her. She was glad to get away from there
> as quickly as possible as the two of them went toward the dance
> floor.
The stranger watched the two women pass him by, distracted for a
moment, especially by the curves of the one in violet.
"Groovy, baby!" he jokingly voiced in a surprisingly affectionate
tone,
starting to follow them up the stairs.
> >> The bouncers noticed this immediately and gathered themselves
> >> towards the stranger, cutting off his path to the dance floor.
...etc...
> >[OOC: Can You Read His Aura?: If you've got level two Auspex (or
> >better), you're in for an unpleasant surprise. The stranger's aura
is
> >a hypnotic swirl of pale light blue tones, heavily 'stained' by a
> >plethora of black veins. Grab your V:tM rule book and have fun
> >figuring it out <g>]
>
> (OOC: Charmaine can... and it's got her *REAL* nervous. <g>)
[OOC: Whatever do you mean? <innocent grin>]
> Charmaine & Micki
Iona
uk> writes
>> OOC: Those, at least on this side of the pond, are called Garters, and the
>> simple mention of them makes my blood temperature rise at least a few
>degrees.
>> <shiver> ohhhh, garters. <drool>
>
>Ah. We call them braces over here. And I agree totally. Mmm, suspenders with
>stockings. It doesn't get much better than that...
>
>> Adam
>
>Matt
Chaps! Purhleesse! ;)
--
Mel
Iona
>>I think that those don't work quite so well with garters and stockings. But
>>if
>>we're talking about other parts of clothing then I like them too.
>>
>>Adam
>>
>
>Definitely other parts. We won't get into garters and stockings here.
>
>Paul
Chaps. Not a prude but if you wish to discuss this sort of thing can ya
keep it off the NG. It's difficult enough trying to combat this sort of
stuff in RL.
Thank you.
--
Mel
Veronica Giver-of-Hope
> phone
> > is a known psychopath. Reports say that he died in some explosion, but th'
> > body wasn't found. This guy can take on ten men without breakin' a sweat,
> an'
> > he's got th' anger ta boot. Now, Ah figger that th' only reason that he's
> here
> > today is either he's damn lucky....or he's been Embraced. Bad enough that
> > psychos get an adrenaline rush. Bring in th' Kindred factor, an' that's
> askin'
> > fer deadly trouble. Right now, th' last thing we need is fer this guy ta
> start
> > goin' off th' deep end, especially when thar's innocents in th' way.
Both women listen intently, Dana reflexively bringing one arm down in a
protective position around her rounded belly. //Unborn and otherwise.//
> > Our best move at th' moment is ta stay calm an' stay outta th' way. We dare
> not do
> > anything that'll get 'im riled up. Go find th' others an' tell 'em ta give
> > this guy a wide berth, an' don't do anything stupid. Ah've already sent
> word
> > to th' Prince of this town. Right now, Ah'm lookin' fer th' owner of this
> > establishment an' warnin' that person about 'im. That person's gonna have
> th'
> > call on how ta proceed with this."
>
> "You've just found him," said a male voice from behind the Texan. "Is there
> something I should know about?" Turning around (I'm assuming that Nick does,
> sorry if I'm posing), Nick saw the owner of the voice. He was 6 foot and
> well-built, dressed head to toe in black, the sombre tone of his clothing
> offset by sparkling silver jewellery.
> "I'm the owner, Misha Young. I don't believe we've met, sir."
Marie, contrasting sharply in her pure white satin, curtsies deeply. (App. 5;
Misha'd better be careful, lest he fall prey to the Toreador Curse.;] ) Dana,
keeping her arm around her stomach, bows. They wait patiently for Nick to
introduce himself, since he was the one being addressed, before introducing
themselves. "Mr. Young, we were merely discussing *that* fellow over there,"
Marie says gently, then lowers her voice and leans up to speak into his ear. "Be
sure to take a *very* good look at him, with the Sight; you shan't like what you
find."
AdamRLee
>>stockings. It doesn't get much better than that...
>>
>>> Adam
>>
>>Matt
>
>Chaps! Purhleesse! ;)
>--
>Mel
Oh, humor us our hormones.
0:)
Adam
Matt Griffiths
> > > "Okay, lissen ta me real carefully. That guy that ya heard breakin'
th'
> > phone
> > > is a known psychopath. Reports say that he died in some explosion,
but th'
> > > body wasn't found. This guy can take on ten men without breakin' a
sweat,
> > an'
> > > he's got th' anger ta boot. Now, Ah figger that th' only reason that
he's
> > here
> > > today is either he's damn lucky....or he's been Embraced. Bad enough
that
> > > psychos get an adrenaline rush. Bring in th' Kindred factor, an'
that's
> > askin'
> > > fer deadly trouble. Right now, th' last thing we need is fer this guy
ta
> > start
> > > goin' off th' deep end, especially when thar's innocents in th' way.
>
> Both women listen intently, Dana reflexively bringing one arm down in a
"I'm afraid I've never mastered looking at auras," he said, his brain
running on automatic, his eyes roving across Marie's figure. "Perhaps one of
you could tell me what you see?"
--
Matt
PKieferjr
<hda...@pcisys.net> writes:
"Nick Barton. Glad ta meetcha, son." He offered the owner a handshake.
"Lissen, she ain't kiddin' right now. Th' guy by th' phone, or what's left of
it? Psycho to th' max. Been all over th' newspapers a long time ago.
Responsible fer a lotta deaths. Shook off ten cops like it was water. Word was
that he was supposed ta have died in an explosion, but they didn't find a body.
Now, he's here. Either he's awful damn lucky, or he's been Embraced. Bad
enough that we got a loony-tuner that could go off at any minute. Add th'
Kindred factor, an' we are up shit creek without a paddle. Best advice that Ah
can give ya is ta give this guy a wide clearance an' play it by ear. If we
luck out, he goes away an' no innocents get hurt."
His cell phone began to beep. "'Scuse me a sec." Nick pulled out the phone
and opened it. "Barton."
<This is Bob, the operating system. Results of the trace attempt have been
gathered.>
"Go."
<Unable to trace. No connection was made.">
/Looks like he didn't luck out this time./ "Didja get th' numbers?"
<Affirmative. Numbers were taken from a photo created from the camera input.
Records indicate that the location was a pay phone, located at a trailer park
in Mexico. Records also indicate that the phone was pulled from service in
1996.>
"Roger that. Keep monitorin'."
<Acknowledged.>
Nick closed up the cell phone and returned it to his pocket. "Well, ol' Swifty
tried ta make a phone call ta Mexico. Th' number was disconnected some three
years ago, but Ah hafta wonder who he was tryin' ta get in touch with. Whar's
Wolvie?"
Nick Barton, Clan Ventrue
Ruth Cruden
Matt Griffiths wrote:
> > A couple more young women visiting from Halifax entered the club. One of
> > them is wearing a burgundy, floor-length, off-the-shoulders, velvet
> > dress. She is about 5'2" tall with long dark brown hair, pale skin and
> > blue eyes. She had a few pieces of jewelry on - a leather choker with a
> > rose pendant, amber earings, several rings with amber set in them, and a
> > rose broach. She looked shyly around waiting for her friend to catch up
> > with her. The other young women - one wore a flowing silk skirt and
> > blouse. She was about the same height as the first though she had long
> > black hair and blue eyes. She wore quite a few necklaces and a pair of
> > earings. She was more outgoing then the first.
> >
> > The second young women walked up (with the first in tow) to the
> > bouncers and said "I'm Eliza Smith and this is Nefertina Mauchan, a
> > friend of mine. Nefertina has been through a lot lately in Halifax and
> > I thought that she needed a vacation from Halifax. It has been rather
> > stressful lately in Halifax."
> >
> > Nefertina smiled shyly to the bouncers and said "Hi, my name is
> > Nefertina Lynne Mauchan. I haven't been outside of Halifax for a couple
> > of years."
>
> The bouncer checked on the clipboard for some time until he found their
> names and ticked them off.
> "Oh, yeah, the late additions. Go right on in, ladies."
Eliza says to Nefertina, "Come on, it will fun" as they enter the place. I just
can't wait to have some fun.
Nefertina follows behind Eliza as they head to the dance area. She looks around
the place hesitantly.
Veronica Giver-of-Hope
> running on automatic, his eyes roving across Marie's figure. "Perhaps one of
> you could tell me what you see?"
Marie double-checks. "Pale blue, colors are shifting a little, but one thing stays
the same: he has a lot of black lines. The man's a..." She checks herself as her
voice rises a bit, then she continues in a harsh whisper. "The man's a practicing
Diabolist, and I don't think he would hesitate to drain all four of us if he should
learn how much we know."
> "Nick Barton. Glad ta meetcha, son." He offered the owner a handshake.
> "Lissen, she ain't kiddin' right now. Th' guy by th' phone, or what's left of
> it? Psycho to th' max. Been all over th' newspapers a long time ago.
> Responsible fer a lotta deaths. Shook off ten cops like it was water. Word was
> that he was supposed ta have died in an explosion, but they didn't find a body.
> Now, he's here. Either he's awful damn lucky, or he's been Embraced. Bad
> enough that we got a loony-tuner that could go off at any minute. Add th'
> Kindred factor, an' we are up shit creek without a paddle. Best advice that Ah
> can give ya is ta give this guy a wide clearance an' play it by ear. If we
> luck out, he goes away an' no innocents get hurt."
"You forget, Mr. Barton," Marie's tall, brown-haired friend points out, "that not
all of us here are Kindred." She passes him a decidedly toothy grin. "Sadly, my OB
has told me to keep my shapechanging to a minimum. I would rather save it for if he
actually starts making trouble."
<trim conversation with Bob>
> Nick closed up the cell phone and returned it to his pocket. "Well, ol' Swifty
> tried ta make a phone call ta Mexico. Th' number was disconnected some three
> years ago, but Ah hafta wonder who he was tryin' ta get in touch with. Whar's
> Wolvie?"
The two girls give him a decidedly confused look. "'Wolvie'?"
Geoff
such
> > force that the casing shattered, spinning shards of plastic in all
> > directions. The body of the phone was a ruin of wrenched metal.
> > Casting his gaze across the club again, he narrowed his eyes and
drank
> > his fourth glass dry. "That's just great!" he sighed, looking up
at
> > the gallery, taking in the lightshow and the throng of dancers.
"Well,
> > while I'm here..." he mused as he settled his eyes on the guests
laid
> > out before him, "...I may as well make the most of it..."
>
woman. She
> was incredibly beautiful, and had an air of grace about her (App. 4,
Dex.
> 4). She grinned. This was not the smile of someone trying to put
another at
> ease. It was the expression of a warrior, baring her fangs to show
her
> opponent that she meant business.
The stranger matched Corinna's gaze with a stern, emotionless
expression, his brow mildly furrowed. Slowly, he looked her up and
down, from head to toe, absorbing every nuance of her body and stance.
Looking her in the eye again with an uncomfortable stare cast in jet,
he leaned forward minutely and inhaled deeply from her aroma. "Well,
aren't you a picture," he whispered flatly.
> "Is there a problem I can help you with, sir?"
As she spoke, the stranger snuck a quick glance over Corinna's
shoulder to where Nick was joined by two women. He managed a faint
smile and, eyes on Corinna again, he softly said, "Sweets, I've danced
to this tune before. But I gotta hand it too you; you're a better
class of cavalry..."
Appraising the stranger from such proximity, Corinna is able to see
that, although his suit is richly tailored, it was not made for him.
It's a close match, but it is slightly small on him. There are faint
scuff marks on the upper sleeves and, on the left lapel, a couple of
flecks of dried blood can be seen - glossy black dots on a sea of dark
cotton. His pale flesh is perfectly unblemished, his jet black eyes
reflect the void and his lips are red with life. Overall, this
brooding colossus seemed immune to intimidation and, perhaps more
dangerously, bellied a cold intelligence. "Alright, I can play this
game again." His accent and crisp diction betray an English heritage.
"Truth is, you probably *can* be of service. You in charge here?"
> Corinna Nugent
> Lasombra
Vladamere Dametri
they watch Nick Barton help their associate up from the floor. The last
guest having recently bulldozed his way into the room, has resulted in the
door being left unwatched. The first reaches into a vest pocket and pulls
out a pack cigarrets, takes one, and offers the second to his companion.
Taking the cigarret him bends to share the flame of the lighter as well.
"Asshole" he whispers as he exhales, "Careful, you know how well they hear."
cautions the other.
In those few lost moments a single cloaked figure separates from the
shaddows and moves to the entrance way. He pauses to observe the scene and
moves into the light of the foyey. Neither had noticed his staggering gate,
or his arrival.
The doormen as if sensing a chill breeze at the back of their neck, spin as
one and step back a step in surprise. The black cloak concealing all
features and the recent events have sapped the doormen of their confidence.
The figure looks up and two glowing red orbs cause them to step asside.
Vladamere Dametri slowly enters the room and looks around as if lost.
Many faces are familiar, yet at the same time unknown. The voices are in a
language he understands and at the same time sound like gibberish. Though he
does not sense any dange to his person at this time. It is obvious from the
commotion that some of the room are hostile. Vladamere Dametri resists the
fight/flight emotions that threaten to overwhelm him. So much has changed in
the time he has been in torpor. The world has changed. Each for object he
sees and understands its function, another ones use escapes him.
Order is slowly returning to the room, and the most alert have already taken
notice. Vladamere Dametri whispers to himself, "<Old Romanian> Remember not
to touch anyboby", the resent experience with a driver who offered him a
hand out of his cab was warning enough. Perhaps the room is too crowded and
casual touch a dangerous possibility. "<Old Romanian> I had better go." he
says to himself and turns to leave.
<Aura> pale and mottled colours. For those of you who are strong in Auspex,
the colours are swirling from orange [afraid], light green [distrustful], to
dark blue [suspicious], and those that are exceptional, there is duality or
overlapping quality to it all.
Vladamere Dametri
Matt Griffiths
<snip>
>
> The stranger matched Corinna's gaze with a stern, emotionless
> expression, his brow mildly furrowed. Slowly, he looked her up and
> down, from head to toe, absorbing every nuance of her body and stance.
> Looking her in the eye again with an uncomfortable stare cast in jet,
> he leaned forward minutely and inhaled deeply from her aroma. "Well,
> aren't you a picture," he whispered flatly.
>
> > "Is there a problem I can help you with, sir?"
>
> As she spoke, the stranger snuck a quick glance over Corinna's
> shoulder to where Nick was joined by two women. He managed a faint
> smile and, eyes on Corinna again, he softly said, "Sweets, I've danced
> to this tune before. But I gotta hand it too you; you're a better
> class of cavalry..."
Corinna nodded to say thanks, from one obvious professional to another.
> Appraising the stranger from such proximity, Corinna is able to see
> that, although his suit is richly tailored, it was not made for him.
> It's a close match, but it is slightly small on him. There are faint
> scuff marks on the upper sleeves and, on the left lapel, a couple of
> flecks of dried blood can be seen - glossy black dots on a sea of dark
> cotton. His pale flesh is perfectly unblemished, his jet black eyes
> reflect the void and his lips are red with life. Overall, this
> brooding colossus seemed immune to intimidation and, perhaps more
> dangerously, bellied a cold intelligence. "Alright, I can play this
> game again." His accent and crisp diction betray an English heritage.
> "Truth is, you probably *can* be of service. You in charge here?"
Corinna picked up on the air of intelligence and the accent, impressed that
she had found a kind of equal. "I'm in charge of security here, yeah. How
can I help?"
> The Stranger
> http://www.pigou.freeserve.co.uk/RedCity/
> *remove NOSPAM to reply*
Matt Griffiths
> In article <375C1A03...@pcisys.net>, Veronica Giver-of-Hope
> <hda...@pcisys.net> writes:
>
> >> > Our best move at th' moment is ta stay calm an' stay outta th' way.
We
> >dare
> >> not do
> >> > anything that'll get 'im riled up. Go find th' others an' tell 'em
> >give
> "Lissen, she ain't kiddin' right now. Th' guy by th' phone, or what's
left of
> it? Psycho to th' max. Been all over th' newspapers a long time ago.
> Responsible fer a lotta deaths. Shook off ten cops like it was water.
Word was
> that he was supposed ta have died in an explosion, but they didn't find a
body.
> Now, he's here. Either he's awful damn lucky, or he's been Embraced.
Bad
> enough that we got a loony-tuner that could go off at any minute. Add th'
> Kindred factor, an' we are up shit creek without a paddle. Best advice
that Ah
> can give ya is ta give this guy a wide clearance an' play it by ear. If
we
> luck out, he goes away an' no innocents get hurt."
Misha looked past the group. "I think the chances of that have just gone
down." If anyone turns to look, he was looking at Corinna, standing toe to
toe with the stranger. The stranger was matching her cold countenance, and
Misha realised that this could be trouble.
> His cell phone began to beep. "'Scuse me a sec." Nick pulled out the
phone
> and opened it. "Barton."
>
> <This is Bob, the operating system. Results of the trace attempt have
been
> gathered.>
>
> "Go."
>
> <Unable to trace. No connection was made.">
>
> /Looks like he didn't luck out this time./ "Didja get th' numbers?"
>
> <Affirmative. Numbers were taken from a photo created from the camera
input.
> Records indicate that the location was a pay phone, located at a trailer
park
> in Mexico. Records also indicate that the phone was pulled from service
in
> 1996.>
>
> "Roger that. Keep monitorin'."
>
> <Acknowledged.>
>
> Nick closed up the cell phone and returned it to his pocket. "Well, ol'
Swifty
> tried ta make a phone call ta Mexico. Th' number was disconnected some
three
> years ago, but Ah hafta wonder who he was tryin' ta get in touch with.
Whar's
> Wolvie?"
>
>
> Nick Barton, Clan Ventrue
Matt Griffiths
> > "I'm afraid I've never mastered looking at auras," he said, his brain
> > running on automatic, his eyes roving across Marie's figure. "Perhaps
one of
> > you could tell me what you see?"
>
> Marie double-checks. "Pale blue, colors are shifting a little, but one
thing stays
> the same: he has a lot of black lines. The man's a..." She checks herself
as her
> voice rises a bit, then she continues in a harsh whisper. "The man's a
practicing
> Diabolist, and I don't think he would hesitate to drain all four of us if
he should
> learn how much we know."
"Jesus. Well, if we try to get rid of him now, it could get bad. Maybe if we
leave him be, he'll leave without making a fuss." He glanced at him again.
"Wow. I've never seen one before. Corinna told me about them, but I never
thought I'd see one!" His face was that of a fascinated child as he stole
another glance at the stranger.
>
> > "Nick Barton. Glad ta meetcha, son." He offered the owner a handshake.
> > "Lissen, she ain't kiddin' right now. Th' guy by th' phone, or what's
left of
> > it? Psycho to th' max. Been all over th' newspapers a long time ago.
> > Responsible fer a lotta deaths. Shook off ten cops like it was water.
Word was
> > that he was supposed ta have died in an explosion, but they didn't find
a body.
> > Now, he's here. Either he's awful damn lucky, or he's been Embraced.
Bad
> > enough that we got a loony-tuner that could go off at any minute. Add
th'
> > Kindred factor, an' we are up shit creek without a paddle. Best advice
that Ah
> > can give ya is ta give this guy a wide clearance an' play it by ear. If
we
> > luck out, he goes away an' no innocents get hurt."
>
> "You forget, Mr. Barton," Marie's tall, brown-haired friend points out,
"that not
> all of us here are Kindred." She passes him a decidedly toothy grin.
"Sadly, my OB
> has told me to keep my shapechanging to a minimum. I would rather save it
for if he
> actually starts making trouble."
>
> <trim conversation with Bob>
>
> > Nick closed up the cell phone and returned it to his pocket. "Well, ol'
Swifty
> > tried ta make a phone call ta Mexico. Th' number was disconnected some
three
> > years ago, but Ah hafta wonder who he was tryin' ta get in touch with.
Whar's
> > Wolvie?"
>
> The two girls give him a decidedly confused look. "'Wolvie'?"
"Wolvie?" He paused as he worked this out. "Ah, you mean Brigit. I haven't
seen her in a while."
PKieferjr
<matthew....@cableinet.co.dot.uk> writes:
>> > Nick closed up the cell phone and returned it to his pocket. "Well, ol'
>Swifty
>> > tried ta make a phone call ta Mexico. Th' number was disconnected some
>three
>> > years ago, but Ah hafta wonder who he was tryin' ta get in touch with.
>Whar's
>> > Wolvie?"
>>
>> The two girls give him a decidedly confused look. "'Wolvie'?"
>
>"Wolvie?" He paused as he worked this out. "Ah, you mean Brigit. I haven't
>seen her in a while."
>
"Well, Ah know that Ah just saw her in here a few moments ago." He directed
the next explanation to the two ladies. "Red haired lady, looks like a
candidate fer th' Ms. Olympia contest."
Nick Barton, Clan Ventrue
Irina Zantosa-Bathory
<matthew....@cableinet.co.dot.uk> writes
>
>news:375C6F3F...@pcisys.net...
>> > "I'm afraid I've never mastered looking at auras," he said, his brain
>> > running on automatic, his eyes roving across Marie's figure. "Perhaps
>one of
>> > you could tell me what you see?"
>>
>> Marie double-checks. "Pale blue, colors are shifting a little, but one
>thing stays
>> the same: he has a lot of black lines. The man's a..." She checks herself
>as her
>> voice rises a bit, then she continues in a harsh whisper. "The man's a
>practicing
>> Diabolist, and I don't think he would hesitate to drain all four of us if
>he should
>> learn how much we know."
>
>"Jesus. Well, if we try to get rid of him now, it could get bad. Maybe if we
>leave him be, he'll leave without making a fuss." He glanced at him again.
>"Wow. I've never seen one before. Corinna told me about them, but I never
>thought I'd see one!" His face was that of a fascinated child as he stole
>another glance at the stranger.
>
looks worried and curious - the shorter just curious.
>>
>> > "Nick Barton. Glad ta meetcha, son." He offered the owner a handshake.
>> > "Lissen, she ain't kiddin' right now. Th' guy by th' phone, or what's
>left of
>> > it? Psycho to th' max. Been all over th' newspapers a long time ago.
>> > Responsible fer a lotta deaths. Shook off ten cops like it was water.
>Word was
>> > that he was supposed ta have died in an explosion, but they didn't find
>a body.
>> > Now, he's here. Either he's awful damn lucky, or he's been Embraced.
>Bad
>> > enough that we got a loony-tuner that could go off at any minute. Add
>th'
>> > Kindred factor, an' we are up shit creek without a paddle. Best advice
>that Ah
>> > can give ya is ta give this guy a wide clearance an' play it by ear. If
>we
>> > luck out, he goes away an' no innocents get hurt."
>>
>> "You forget, Mr. Barton," Marie's tall, brown-haired friend points out,
>"that not
>> all of us here are Kindred." She passes him a decidedly toothy grin.
>"Sadly, my OB
>> has told me to keep my shapechanging to a minimum. I would rather save it
>for if he
>> actually starts making trouble."
>>
Overhearing the conversation the tall woman smiles briefly and some of
the worry leave her face.
>> <trim conversation with Bob>
>>
>> > Nick closed up the cell phone and returned it to his pocket. "Well, ol'
>Swifty
>> > tried ta make a phone call ta Mexico. Th' number was disconnected some
>three
>> > years ago, but Ah hafta wonder who he was tryin' ta get in touch with.
>Whar's
>> > Wolvie?"
>>
>> The two girls give him a decidedly confused look. "'Wolvie'?"
>
>"Wolvie?" He paused as he worked this out. "Ah, you mean Brigit. I haven't
>seen her in a while."
>
The tall woman moves up to face Nick, nodding politely to Misha and
Marie then after a pause Dana.
"Er excuse me, but would you be Nick Barton?
Behind her the shorter woman is staring at Dana in complete fascination.
>--
>Misha Young
>Toreador Vocalist
>--
>Matt
>
>
Irina Szantovitch-Bathory
Jane
Geoff
"Security? Really..." The stranger's voice did not convey surprise,
only a mild curiosity. "I'd put my money on the white knight over
there, " he said, gently nodding his head in the direction of Nick and
his growing group of lackeys. "Looks like they're fired up about
something - could be trouble, " he continued, eyes on Corinna again.
"You wanna be careful, sister."
The stranger looked up and around the Gods momentarily, before slowly
walking past Corinna, stopping shoulder to shoulder with her right
flank. "I thought he was gonna set the dogs on me, " he said, his cold
gaze on Nick once more. With a sideways glance to Corinna, he
earnestly whispered, "You do have some dogs in tonight..." This was
more of a statement than an enquiry, and clearly he was referring to
Lupines. Then, looking back to Nick again, he said, "Say, what d'you
say we go have a chat with them?" He drained his fourth glass of blood
then slowly began to twirl the tumbler with his fingertips.
> Corinna Nugent
> Lasombra
SFryar
<doc....@virgin.net> writes:
Micki giggled and said, "Thanks, Misha. I was too young to wear these types of
clothes when it was popular, but I'm glad that I can finally wear it now.
Usually, at my club, everyone expects me to wear Goth clothes, and I do, but it
doesn't fit my personality. When Charmaine told me about the grand opening of
your club, I jumped at the chance to get away from work for a while, and wear
what I really want to wear."
"You're welcome, Corinna." Charmaine said, still smiling. "I hope that you and
Misha will have great success with The Picture House. I think that it will be a
smash hit."
>
>> Charmaine and Micki
>
>--
>Corinna Nugent
>Lasombra Freelance
>--
>Misha Young
>Toreador Vocalist
>--
>Matt Griffiths
Charmaine and Micki
SFryar
<ge...@pigou.freeserve.co.uk> writes:
>> Charmaine had noticed the stranger standing in the doorway shortly
>> after Micki came in behind her. She was glad to get away from there
>> as quickly as possible as the two of them went toward the dance
>> floor.
>
>The stranger watched the two women pass him by, distracted for a
>moment, especially by the curves of the one in violet.
>"Groovy, baby!" he jokingly voiced in a surprisingly affectionate
>tone,
>starting to follow them up the stairs.
Micki turned around to see where the voice was coming from. She looked at the
stranger, gave him a flirtatious wink, giggled, and hurried up the stairs
behind Charmiane.
>
>> >> The bouncers noticed this immediately and gathered themselves
>> >> towards the stranger, cutting off his path to the dance floor.
>
>...etc...
>
>> >[OOC: Can You Read His Aura?: If you've got level two Auspex (or
>> >better), you're in for an unpleasant surprise. The stranger's aura
>is
>> >a hypnotic swirl of pale light blue tones, heavily 'stained' by a
>> >plethora of black veins. Grab your V:tM rule book and have fun
>> >figuring it out <g>]
>>
>> (OOC: Charmaine can... and it's got her *REAL* nervous. <g>)
>
>[OOC: Whatever do you mean? <innocent grin>]
(OOC: <giggle>)
>> Charmaine & Micki
>
>The Stranger
>http://www.pigou.freeserve.co.uk/RedCity/
>*remove NOSPAM to reply*
Micki
SFryar
<gaud...@windsor.igs.net> writes:
Micki noticed the stranger and tapped Charmaine's arm. "Charmaine...
Charmaine.... Who's that guy over there?" she asked her.
Charmaine turned to look in the direction that Micki had indicated, and she
couldn't believe her eyes. "It can't be him... How did he find this place....
and how did he find me?" she whispered softly, her eyes not leaving him for a
moment.
"Who, Charmiane?" Micki asked, a puzzled look on her face. "Who *is* that guy?"
"It's VanDam...." Charmaine said quietly.
"VanDam?" Micki echoed softly, her voice taking on a tone of disbelief. "I
thought that he was still in Chicago? What the hell's going on here?"
Charmaine's pursuit of Nick Barton was forgotten as she looked at this man who
was VanDam, and yet, she was aware that he wasn't exactly VanDam. She slowly
walked toward him, with Micki following close behind to keep an eye on her. As
she approached him, she could see the aura that swirled around him, and it
didn't frighten her like the one that she had seen around the stranger that she
had encountered earlier in the evening.
She approached the man and said with a warm smile, "Good evening... I'm
Charmaine MacLendon... and your name is...?"
Micki gave both of them a puzzled look, but held her peace.
><Aura> pale and mottled colours. For those of you who are strong in Auspex,
>the colours are swirling from orange [afraid], light green [distrustful], to
>dark blue [suspicious], and those that are exceptional, there is duality or
>overlapping quality to it all.
>
>Vladamere Dametri
Charmiane and Micki
Matt Griffiths
Corinna nodded in agreement, glancing at Nick. "Don't worry. I've got my eye
on him."
> The stranger looked up and around the Gods momentarily, before slowly
> walking past Corinna, stopping shoulder to shoulder with her right
> flank. "I thought he was gonna set the dogs on me, " he said, his cold
> gaze on Nick once more. With a sideways glance to Corinna, he
> earnestly whispered, "You do have some dogs in tonight..." This was
> more of a statement than an enquiry, and clearly he was referring to
> Lupines.
"Yeah, I've seen her. Misha's talking to one right now. I wonder if he's
worked that out yet?" She left this statement hanging in the air for a
second before turning to face the same direction as the stranger.
> Then, looking back to Nick again, he said, "Say, what d'you
> say we go have a chat with them?" He drained his fourth glass of blood
> then slowly began to twirl the tumbler with his fingertips.
Corinna smiled devilishly. She secretly relished a chance to cause some
mischief. "I'd love to. By the way, my name's Corinna." She extended a hand
for the stranger to shake.
--
Corinna Nugent
Lasombra
Veronica Giver-of-Hope
> the next explanation to the two ladies. "Red haired lady, looks like a
> candidate fer th' Ms. Olympia contest."
"Oh, you mean the gal that's currently *frowning* at the psycho?" Dana points
at Brigit, where she's standing up by the stage, sipping from a glass of "punch".
"She looks like she could handle him."
Marie studies the woman closely. "Yes, she could at that..." //Interesting
colors, there. She could probably take on this whole room and get away with only
a few scratches.//
Meanwhile, over by another table, Veronica is trying her best to soothe the
deeply-disturbed Rebecca. "Easy, now, easy, my dear. He shan't harm you so long
as you're with me." She holds the trembling girl tightly, then decides to
distract her from her fear. "How's your wrist?"
"B-b-better."
"Let me see." She unwraps the bandage, revealing Rebecca's new tattoo. "Very
nice. It's all healed up already." She tugs Rebecca's long sleeve down over it,
concealing it from view. "Now, go do what you do best: watch, but do nothing. And
do not let your fear swallow you whole." She gently kisses the child-like Kindred
on the forehead, and releases her. The black-haired girl quickly vanishes into
the crowd, to continue watching the stranger.
AdamRLee
>"Yeah, I've seen her. Misha's talking to one right now. I wonder if he's
>worked that out yet?" She left this statement hanging in the air for a
>second before turning to face the same direction as the stranger.
>
>> Then, looking back to Nick again, he said, "Say, what d'you
>> say we go have a chat with them?" He drained his fourth glass of blood
>> then slowly began to twirl the tumbler with his fingertips.
>
>Corinna smiled devilishly. She secretly relished a chance to cause some
>mischief. "I'd love to. By the way, my name's Corinna." She extended a hand
>for the stranger to shake.
>--
Cole relaxed and smiled at this, he hated violent confrontation, it wasn't his
style and it looked as if Chester's girlfriend, or whatever she was to him, had
things under control. With that he tipped his chair back, hooking a foot
around a table leg to prevent any possible falling, and looked around the room.
"So different from home, yet so much the same." he muttered to himself.
Then he dropped the chair back to level and stood up. He strolled ofer to
Chester.
"So what does it take to get an introduction around here?" he said lightly with
a smile.
Cole Harris
Looks like a Toreador or Ventrue
House and Clan Tremere
San Francisco Chantry
PKieferjr
<ke...@kpople.demon.co.uk> writes:
"Wolvie?" He paused as he worked this out. "Ah, you mean Brigit. I haven't
seen her in a while."
"Well, Ah know that Ah just saw her in here a few moments ago." He directed
the next explanation to the two ladies. "Red haired lady, looks like a
candidate fer th' Ms. Olympia contest."
The tall woman moves up to face Nick, nodding politely to Misha and
Marie then after a pause Dana. "Er excuse me, but would you be Nick Barton?"
Behind her the shorter woman is staring at Dana in complete fascination.
"That's me," Nick replied. "What can Ah do fer ya?"
Nick Barton, Clan Ventrue
PKieferjr
<hda...@pcisys.net> writes:
>> "Well, Ah know that Ah just saw her in here a few moments ago." He
>directed
>> the next explanation to the two ladies. "Red haired lady, looks like a
>> candidate fer th' Ms. Olympia contest."
>
> "Oh, you mean the gal that's currently *frowning* at the psycho?" Dana
>points
>at Brigit, where she's standing up by the stage, sipping from a glass of
>"punch".
>"She looks like she could handle him."
> Marie studies the woman closely. "Yes, she could at that..."
>//Interesting
>colors, there. She could probably take on this whole room and get away with
>only
>a few scratches.//
"Ah'd rather she didn't, actually. Things are at a critical point here. One
bad move, an' we could have th' blood of innocents on our hands."
Nick Barton, Clan Ventrue
Vladamere Dametri
But
> >>if
> >>we're talking about other parts of clothing then I like them too.
> >>
> >>Adam
> >>
> >
> >Definitely other parts. We won't get into garters and stockings here.
> >
> >Paul
>
> Chaps. Not a prude but if you wish to discuss this sort of thing can ya
> keep it off the NG. It's difficult enough trying to combat this sort of
> stuff in RL.
> Thank you.
> --
> Mel
Prude :-)
JP
Irina Zantosa-Bathory
<pkie...@aol.com> writes
>In article <VvFEDEAE...@kpople.demon.co.uk>, Irina Zantosa-Bathory
><ke...@kpople.demon.co.uk> writes:
>
>"Wolvie?" He paused as he worked this out. "Ah, you mean Brigit. I haven't
>seen her in a while."
>
>the next explanation to the two ladies. "Red haired lady, looks like a
>candidate fer th' Ms. Olympia contest."
>
>Marie then after a pause Dana. "Er excuse me, but would you be Nick Barton?"
>
>Behind her the shorter woman is staring at Dana in complete fascination.
>
>"That's me," Nick replied. "What can Ah do fer ya?"
>
nice to find somebody I recognise. Sorry, I should introduce myself,
I'm Irina."
She jerks her head at the shorter woman. "That's Jane, you wont have
heard about her."
"So Mr Barton, two questions, who's the psychotic Diablerist? And did
you know you were talking to a Lupine.?"
>Nick Barton, Clan Ventrue
>
Irina Szantovitch-Bathory
Vladamere Dametri
and move his way. A flash storm of emotions broke over him and he shook from
head to toe. The love, fear and guilt swept in from the outer most points of
his body. Part of his mind began to errect the long practiced diciplines of
mind control that had served him well for centures, but the were swept away
like walls of sand on a wave swept beach. No more he thought... NO MORE.
> She approached the man and said with a warm smile, "Good evening... I'm
> Charmaine MacLendon... and your name is...?"
>
Charmaine's keen vision caught a glimspe of VanDam's hooded face. It was
different, confused. The words the woman spoke were familiar yet
unrecognizable, as if she were speaking with marbles in her mouth. Charamine
could see that he did not recognize her. Perhaps she had lost him forever.
He leaned back against the wall and braced himself as if to anchor himself
in the room. He looked at the Charmaine as if seeing her for the first time.
Her emerald eyes drew him in and transfixed him with their beauty. They
almost twinkled with a life of their own. Then he realized the twinkle was
an effect of the light as if caught a ruby red tear as it formed. Vladamere
Dametri
watched the tear gather form and slowly slip along the edge of her high
ebony cheekbone then hang an eternity in the air. The dark cloak snapped out
and a hand appeared under the tear as if it had always been there. As the
tear landed in his palm, he smiled and said "Charmaine ... MacLendon", then
his palm began the tingle and he watch his flesh ripple and the drop of
blood disappear beneath his skin.
Vladamere Dametri closed his hand quickly and drew it back into the folds of
the cloak.
> Micki gave both of them a puzzled look, but held her peace.
>
"<Old Romanian> Stay back, don't touch me he warned."
> ><Aura> pale and mottled colours. For those of you who are strong in
Auspex,
> >the colours are swirling from orange [afraid], light green [distrustful],
to
> >dark blue [suspicious], and those that are exceptional, there is duality
or
> >overlapping quality to it all.
> >
> >Vladamere Dametri
>
> Charmiane and Micki
Vladamere Dametri
Veronica Giver-of-Hope
Dana gives the smaller woman a friendly smile. "Don't worry, li'l darlin'; I've
had my shots, and I won't bite unless you ask *very* nicely." She bats her
dark-brown lashes at the stranger.
Veronica Giver-of-Hope
> direction, keeping his hand low. "Number two, wouldn't surprise me in th'
> least. Ah take it that ya never been ta Austin?"
Marie laughs for the first time since Trouble walked in the door, and Dana
twiddles her thumbs, whistling quietly and looking away elaborately.
PKieferjr
<ke...@kpople.demon.co.uk> writes:
>>The tall woman moves up to face Nick, nodding politely to Misha and
>>Marie then after a pause Dana. "Er excuse me, but would you be Nick
>Barton?"
>>Behind her the shorter woman is staring at Dana in complete fascination.
>>"That's me," Nick replied. "What can Ah do fer ya?"
>"Nothing really," she replies with a slightly relieved smile. "It's just
>nice to find somebody I recognise. Sorry, I should introduce myself,
>I'm Irina."
"Howdy."
> She jerks her head at the shorter woman. "That's Jane, you wont have
>heard about her."
"Ma'am."
> "So Mr Barton, two questions, who's the psychotic Diablerist? And did
>you know you were talking to a Lupine.?"
"Number one, that guy over thar." Nick non-chalantly pointed in the strangers
direction, keeping his hand low. "Number two, wouldn't surprise me in th'
least. Ah take it that ya never been ta Austin?"
Nick Barton, Clan Ventrue
>Irina Szantovitch-Bathory
Geoff
d'you
> > say we go have a chat with them?" He drained his fourth glass of
blood
> > then slowly began to twirl the tumbler with his fingertips.
>
> Corinna smiled devilishly. She secretly relished a chance to cause
some
> mischief. "I'd love to. By the way, my name's Corinna."
"Corinna, Corinna..." the stranger whispered, closing his eyes with a
sigh. "Wonderful name..."
> She extended a hand for the stranger to shake.
Sensing the movement, the stranger opened his eyes and, availing
himself of the opportunity, placed the tumbler in Corinna's
outstretched palm. Slowly and openly, he reached into his jacket and
retrieved a zippo lighter and a packet of Camel cigarettes. A flick of
the wrist promoted a cigarette to the front, which he plucked from the
pack with his lips. Then he cocked the zippo, summoned the flame and
lit the cigarette within the chalice of his hands. He inhaled more
deeply than a mortal could probably withstand, and exhaled a smoky
plume of dragons breath.
"I thinks it's a little bit early for debating alliances, don't you?"
The strangers voice conveyed an unexpected sympathy. "Even assuming
you somehow know who I *was*, you have no idea who I *am*. More to the
point, I have no idea who *you* are either. We could be blood enemies.
You could be leading me into a trap. I could be here to destroy
someone. Small moves, Corinna. Small moves. But I can see you've got
pride in your work and a taste for the wild side. That'll come in
handy. So, let's go from there..."
The stranger pocketed the cigarettes and started forward towards the
group surrounding Nick. "You'll probably want to be present while I
see what Mr. Bond here conjured up with the cell phone," he said
flatly, breaking into a purposeful march. His eyes searched for the
raven haired child, but couldn't track her down. "So, who's running
the show in Birmingham these nights?" he enquired.
Matt Griffiths
Irina Zantosa-Bathory <ke...@kpople.demon.co.uk> wrote in message
news:c2dWFKAl...@kpople.demon.co.uk...> >In article <VvFEDEAE...@kpople.demon.co.uk>, Irina Zantosa-Bathory
> ><ke...@kpople.demon.co.uk> writes:
> >
> >"Wolvie?" He paused as he worked this out. "Ah, you mean Brigit. I
haven't
> >seen her in a while."
> >
> >"Well, Ah know that Ah just saw her in here a few moments ago." He
directed
> >the next explanation to the two ladies. "Red haired lady, looks like a
> >candidate fer th' Ms. Olympia contest."
> >
> >Marie then after a pause Dana. "Er excuse me, but would you be Nick
Barton?"
> >
> >Behind her the shorter woman is staring at Dana in complete fascination.
> >
> >"That's me," Nick replied. "What can Ah do fer ya?"
> >
> "Nothing really," she replies with a slightly relieved smile. "It's just
> nice to find somebody I recognise. Sorry, I should introduce myself,
> I'm Irina."
> heard about her."
> you know you were talking to a Lupine.?"
There was a sputtering noise behind them as Misha semi-choked on his glass
of blood.
> >Nick Barton, Clan Ventrue
> >
>
> Irina Szantovitch-Bathory
--
Matt Griffiths
AdamRLee <adam...@aol.com> wrote in message
news:19990608172327...@ng-cg1.aol.com...
> >
> >"Yeah, I've seen her. Misha's talking to one right now. I wonder if he's
> >worked that out yet?" She left this statement hanging in the air for a
> >second before turning to face the same direction as the stranger.
> >
> >> say we go have a chat with them?" He drained his fourth glass of blood
> >> then slowly began to twirl the tumbler with his fingertips.
> >
> >Corinna smiled devilishly. She secretly relished a chance to cause some
hand
> >for the stranger to shake.
>
> Cole relaxed and smiled at this, he hated violent confrontation, it wasn't
his
> style and it looked as if Chester's girlfriend, or whatever she was to
him, had
> things under control. With that he tipped his chair back, hooking a foot
> around a table leg to prevent any possible falling, and looked around the
room.
>
> "So different from home, yet so much the same." he muttered to himself.
>
> Then he dropped the chair back to level and stood up. He strolled ofer to
> Chester.
>
> "So what does it take to get an introduction around here?" he said lightly
with
> a smile.
Chester turned to see who had spoken. Seeing Cole, he simply gave a friendly
smile.
"Hey Cole. Who is it you want me to introduce you to?"
> Cole Harris
> Looks like a Toreador or Ventrue
> House and Clan Tremere
> San Francisco Chantry
--
Chester Mix
Tremere Hacker
Fourth Circle Apprentice
San Francisco Chantry
--
Matt
Matt Griffiths
> > > Then, looking back to Nick again, [the stranger] said, "Say, what
> d'you
> > > say we go have a chat with them?" He drained his fourth glass of
> blood
> > > then slowly began to twirl the tumbler with his fingertips.
> >
> > Corinna smiled devilishly. She secretly relished a chance to cause
> some
> > mischief. "I'd love to. By the way, my name's Corinna."
>
> sigh. "Wonderful name..."
>
>
> himself of the opportunity, placed the tumbler in Corinna's
> outstretched palm. Slowly and openly, he reached into his jacket and
> retrieved a zippo lighter and a packet of Camel cigarettes. A flick of
> the wrist promoted a cigarette to the front, which he plucked from the
> pack with his lips. Then he cocked the zippo, summoned the flame and
> lit the cigarette within the chalice of his hands. He inhaled more
> deeply than a mortal could probably withstand, and exhaled a smoky
> plume of dragons breath.
>
> "I thinks it's a little bit early for debating alliances, don't you?"
> The strangers voice conveyed an unexpected sympathy. "Even assuming
> you somehow know who I *was*, you have no idea who I *am*. More to the
> point, I have no idea who *you* are either. We could be blood enemies.
> You could be leading me into a trap. I could be here to destroy
> someone. Small moves, Corinna. Small moves. But I can see you've got
> pride in your work and a taste for the wild side. That'll come in
> handy. So, let's go from there..."
Corinna paused for a fraction of a second while she considered his argument.
"Good point," she said finally. "You could be Sabbat, in which case I'd have
to kill you," she said cheerfully, with a pleasant smile, indicating that
she would enjoy it if he was.
> The stranger pocketed the cigarettes and started forward towards the
> group surrounding Nick. "You'll probably want to be present while I
> see what Mr. Bond here conjured up with the cell phone," he said
> flatly, breaking into a purposeful march. His eyes searched for the
> raven haired child, but couldn't track her down. "So, who's running
> the show in Birmingham these nights?" he enquired.
"We are - I suppose you'd call us the Anarchs. We've adopted most of the
traditions of the Camarilla, but we're keeping it equal. The Prince has been
replaced by a Revolutionary Council, which is more like a Primogen, really."
She said all of this without turning her head to look at him while she
followed. Without breaking stride, she placed the glass on a table.
> The Stranger
> http://www.pigou.freeserve.co.uk/RedCity/
> *remove NOSPAM to reply*
Corinna Nugent
Lasombra
--
Matt
Irina Zantosa-Bathory
<pkie...@aol.com> writes
>In article <c2dWFKAl...@kpople.demon.co.uk>, Irina Zantosa-Bathory
><ke...@kpople.demon.co.uk> writes:
>
>>>The tall woman moves up to face Nick, nodding politely to Misha and
>>>Marie then after a pause Dana. "Er excuse me, but would you be Nick
>>Barton?"
>
>>>Behind her the shorter woman is staring at Dana in complete fascination.
>
>>>"That's me," Nick replied. "What can Ah do fer ya?"
>
>>"Nothing really," she replies with a slightly relieved smile. "It's just
>>nice to find somebody I recognise. Sorry, I should introduce myself,
>>I'm Irina."
>
>
>> She jerks her head at the shorter woman. "That's Jane, you wont have
>>heard about her."
>
>
Jane looks around and gives Nick a half smile and a distracted nod then
goes back to her fascinated study of Dana.
>> "So Mr Barton, two questions, who's the psychotic Diablerist? And did
>>you know you were talking to a Lupine.?"
>
>"Number one, that guy over thar." Nick non-chalantly pointed in the strangers
>direction, keeping his hand low.
She nods as she sees him. "Seems a charming fellow, who's the lady with
him?"
> "Number two, wouldn't surprise me in th'
>least. Ah take it that ya never been ta Austin?"
"I cannot say I've had the pleasure, why?"
>
>Nick Barton, Clan Ventrue
>
>>Irina Szantovitch-Bathory
Irina Szantovitch-Bathory
Irina Zantosa-Bathory
<hda...@pcisys.net> writes
>> Behind her the shorter woman is staring at Dana in complete fascination.
>
>had my shots, and I won't bite unless you ask *very* nicely." She bats her
>dark-brown lashes at the stranger.
Jane shakes her head as if to clear it.
"I'm sorry, I know it's rude of me to stare like that but I've not been
a kindred long and then to get to meet one of you so soon it's just -
Wow!"
All this comes out in one breath.
"Aren't you worried? I mean from what I have been told our peoples do
not exactly get on."
Then she stops and curses under her breath.
"Sorry, where are my manners? Istvan would be furious with me, I'm Jane,
who do I have the honour of addressing?"
>
Jane.
AdamRLee
>smile.
>"Hey Cole. Who is it you want me to introduce you to?"
"Oh, I don't really care all that much who, just as long as it's someone. Who
do you know?"
Cole Harris
Irina Zantosa-Bathory
>> >Marie then after a pause Dana. "Er excuse me, but would you be Nick
>Barton?"
>> >
>> >
>> >
>> "Nothing really," she replies with a slightly relieved smile. "It's just
>> nice to find somebody I recognise. Sorry, I should introduce myself,
>> I'm Irina."
>> heard about her."
>> you know you were talking to a Lupine.?"
>
>of blood.
>
<OOC:I guess it's his lucky night, she has appearance 4:-)>
"I think we are safe enough, and you are?"
>> >Nick Barton, Clan Ventrue
>> >
>>
>> Irina Szantovitch-Bathory
>
>--
>Misha Young
>Toreador Vocalist
>--
>Matt Griffiths
>
>
>
>
Irina Szantovitch-Bathory
Matt Griffiths
> >> >The tall woman moves up to face Nick, nodding politely to Misha and
> >> >Marie then after a pause Dana. "Er excuse me, but would you be Nick
> >Barton?"
> >> >
> >> >Behind her the shorter woman is staring at Dana in complete
fascination.
> >> >
> >> >"That's me," Nick replied. "What can Ah do fer ya?"
> >> >
> >> "Nothing really," she replies with a slightly relieved smile. "It's
just
> >> nice to find somebody I recognise. Sorry, I should introduce myself,
> >> I'm Irina."
> >> She jerks her head at the shorter woman. "That's Jane, you wont have
> >> heard about her."
> >> "So Mr Barton, two questions, who's the psychotic Diablerist? And did
> >> you know you were talking to a Lupine.?"
> >
> >There was a sputtering noise behind them as Misha semi-choked on his
glass
> >of blood.
> >
> Irina looks around to see the source of the noise and smiles at him.
> <OOC:I guess it's his lucky night, she has appearance 4:-)>
Unfortunately, they're usually immune to his charms - unlike the mortal
women he usually prey on : ) )
> "I think we are safe enough, and you are?"
Misha smiled, and extended his hand to shake.
"I'm Misha Young. I own the place. Who might you be miss?"
Matt Griffiths
"Well, there's Corinna, over there." He turned to look for her, and saw she
was talking to the stranger, "but she's a bit busy right now," he said,
raising his eyebrows to indicate that it would be best if they didn't
disturb her. "There's Misha, who owns the place," he said, looking around
for him, spotting him talking to Nick Barton's group. "He's doing what he
does best at the moment; talking to lots of beautiful women." He indicated
Irina, Marie and Dana. "I'll introduce you two later." He thought for a
second. "Ah, I know. You can meet one of the Revolutionary Council."
He pushed his way through the crowds of dancers (OOC: Presumably Cole is
following) until he found a young woman dancing with a young man. She
appeared to be no more than 14 or 15, and looked like a young Christina
Ricci.
"Hi Paula! There's someone I'd like you to meet." He turned to Cole. "Cole,
this is Paula Jones. She sits on the Revoluionary Council. Paula, this is
Cole Harris, my saviour," he said with a smile. "He's from San Fransisco."
Paula simply smiled. "Hi. Nice to meet you, Cole."
> Cole Harris,
--
Chester Mix
Tremere Hacker
Fourth Circle Apprentice
San Francisco Chantry
--
Paula Jones
Caitiff Councillor
--
Matt Griffiths
SFryar
<gaud...@windsor.igs.net> writes:
<snippage...>
Charmaine was aware that there was something different about VanDam, but she
couldn't pinpoint it. The look in his eyes, the way that he walked into the
room, all of them were different, as though there was someone else in his
place. She was transfixed by him, and she was swept up into another realm.
"Vlademere....?" she whispered softly, her voice choked with emotion as a ruby
red tear danced around to corner of her eye.
>He leaned back against the wall and braced himself as if to anchor himself
>in the room. He looked at the Charmaine as if seeing her for the first time.
>Her emerald eyes drew him in and transfixed him with their beauty. They
>almost twinkled with a life of their own. Then he realized the twinkle was
>an effect of the light as if caught a ruby red tear as it formed. Vladamere
>Dametri
>watched the tear gather form and slowly slip along the edge of her high
>ebony cheekbone then hang an eternity in the air. The dark cloak snapped out
>and a hand appeared under the tear as if it had always been there. As the
>tear landed in his palm, he smiled and said "Charmaine ... MacLendon", then
>his palm began the tingle and he watch his flesh ripple and the drop of
>blood disappear beneath his skin.
>
>Vladamere Dametri closed his hand quickly and drew it back into the folds of
>the cloak.
>
>> Micki gave both of them a puzzled look, but held her peace.
>"<Old Romanian> Stay back, don't touch me he warned."
Charmaine opened her mouth and suddenly found herself speaking Old Romanian.
"<I understand, Vlademere... You've had a long journey, and I'm sure that you'd
like to sit down and rest yourself. Won't you come with me to a nearby table?>"
Micki gave Charmaine a puzzled look. "What were you just saying, Charmaine? I
didn't understand a damn thing you were saying to him."
Charmiane seemed oblivious to Micki's question as she and Vlademere continued
to look at each other.
"Uh.... hel-lo!" Micki said, as she got a little bit impatient with both of
them. "Excuse me, but if you two are going to make goo-goo eyes at each other
tonight, I'm sure that you can do it from a seated position?"
>> ><Aura> pale and mottled colours. For those of you who are strong in
>Auspex,
>> >the colours are swirling from orange [afraid], light green [distrustful],
>to
>> >dark blue [suspicious], and those that are exceptional, there is duality
>or
>> >overlapping quality to it all.
>> >
>> >Vladamere Dametri
>>
>> Charmiane and Micki
>Vladamere Dametri
Charmaine and Micki
Irina Zantosa-Bathory
>glass
>> >of blood.
>> >
>> Irina looks around to see the source of the noise and smiles at him.
>> <OOC:I guess it's his lucky night, she has appearance 4:-)>
>(OOC: I don't think he's met so many beautiful vampires in one night before.
>Unfortunately, they're usually immune to his charms - unlike the mortal
>women he usually prey on : ) )
>
>> "I think we are safe enough, and you are?"
>
>Misha smiled, and extended his hand to shake.
>"I'm Misha Young. I own the place. Who might you be miss?"
>
me Irina, most people take so long to get to the end of my name they
forget what they wanted to say."
She looks around clearly a little out of her element. Then noticing his
hand takes it and shakes it.
"Nice place you have here."
She nods towards the shorter girl. "That's Jane, you'd better ask her to
explain who she is, that is if you can pry her away from the Lupine."
>>
>> >> >Nick Barton, Clan Ventrue
>> >> >
>-
>> >Misha Young
>> >Toreador Vocalist
>> >--
Irina Szantovitch-Bathory
AdamRLee
>following) until he found a young woman dancing with a young man. She
>appeared to be no more than 14 or 15, and looked like a young Christina
>Ricci.
>"Hi Paula! There's someone I'd like you to meet." He turned to Cole. "Cole,
>this is Paula Jones. She sits on the Revoluionary Council. Paula, this is
>Cole Harris, my saviour," he said with a smile. "He's from San Fransisco."
>
"I wouldn't say saviour. I was looking out for myself to be quite honest."
said Cole with humor and a bit of humility in his voice
>Paula simply smiled. "Hi. Nice to meet you, Cole."
>
"A most enjoyable pleasure Ms. Paula. Revolutionary Council huh? Does that
imply you've still got a revolution on your hands?"
Cole Harris
Cole Harris
5th Circle Apprentice
PKieferjr
The tall woman moves up to face Nick, nodding politely to Misha and Marie, then
after a pause, Dana. "Er....excuse me, but would you be Nick Barton?"
Behind her the shorter woman is staring at Dana in complete fascination.
"That's me," Nick replied. "What can Ah do fer ya?"
"Nothing really," she replies with a slightly relieved smile. "It's just
nice to find somebody I recognise. Sorry, I should introduce myself,
I'm Irina."
"Howdy."
She jerks her head at the shorter woman. "That's Jane, you wont have
heard about her."
"Ma'am."
Jane looks around and gives Nick a half smile and a distracted nod then
goes back to her fascinated study of Dana.
Dana gives the smaller woman a friendly smile. "Don't worry, li'l darlin'; I've
had my shots, and I won't bite unless you ask *very* nicely." She bats her
dark-brown lashes at the stranger.
Jane shakes her head as if to clear it. "I'm sorry, I know it's rude of me to
stare like that, but I've not been a kindred long and then to get to meet one
of you so soon. It's just...Wow!" All this comes out in one breath. "Aren't
you worried? I mean, from what I have been told our peoples do not exactly get
on." Then she stops and curses under her breath. "Sorry, where are my manners?
Istvan would be furious with me, I'm Jane, who do I have the honour of
addressing?"
(OOC: Insert answer here.)
"So Mr Barton, two questions, who's the psychotic Diablerist? And did
you know you were talking to a Lupine.?"
There was a sputtering noise behind them as Misha semi-choked on his glass
of blood. Irina looks around to see the source of the noise and smiles at him.
"I think we are safe enough, and you are?"
Misha smiled, and extended his hand to shake.
"I'm Misha Young. I own the place. Who might you be miss?"
"Irina Szantovitch-Bathory. Delighted to meet you, Mr. Young. Please, call
me 'Irina'. Most people take so long to get to the end of my name that they
forget what they wanted to say." She looks around clearly a little out of her
element. Then noticing his hand takes it and shakes it. "Nice place you have
here."
She nods towards the shorter girl. "That's Jane. You'd better ask her to
explain who she is, that is if you can pry her away from the Lupine."
"Easy, thar, son. Wouldn't want th' floor ta get a bit messed up." Nick
handed Misha a handkerchief before turning to the ladies. "Number one, that
guy over thar." Nick non-chalantly pointed in the stranger's direction, keeping
his hand low.
She nods as she sees him. "Seems a charming fellow, who's the lady with
him?"
"Lady?" Nick stole a quick glance in the stranger's direction and noticed that
he was approaching the group, Corrina in hand. "Oh, shit, he's comin' this
way. Okay, folks, let's all act calm an' normal here, an' we just might get
through this okay. Now, 'bout number two, wouldn't surprise me in th' least.
Ah take it that ya never been ta Austin?"
"I cannot say I've had the pleasure, why?"
"One of th' more enviromentally friendly cities. Signed a treaty with 'em.
They leave us alone, we make sure that we don't go stompin' on th' enviroment.
Now, if y'all will excuse me fer a bit, Ah need ta go see Brigit fer a sec."
Nick broke away from the group and made his way through the crowd until he had
finally reached the muscular woman. "Brigit! How ya doin', girl?"
Nick Barton, Clan Ventrue
Irina Zantosa-Bathory
<pkie...@aol.com> writes
>(OOC: Cut and paste time. Bear with me here.....)
>
<Snip>
>"Lady?" Nick stole a quick glance in the stranger's direction and noticed that
>he was approaching the group, Corrina in hand. "Oh, shit, he's comin' this
>way. Okay, folks, let's all act calm an' normal here, an' we just might get
>through this okay. Now, 'bout number two, wouldn't surprise me in th' least.
>Ah take it that ya never been ta Austin?"
>
>"I cannot say I've had the pleasure, why?"
>
>"One of th' more enviromentally friendly cities. Signed a treaty with 'em.
>They leave us alone, we make sure that we don't go stompin' on th' enviroment.
>Now, if y'all will excuse me fer a bit, Ah need ta go see Brigit fer a sec."
>
"Of course."
>Nick broke away from the group and made his way through the crowd until he had
>finally reached the muscular woman. "Brigit! How ya doin', girl?"
>
>Nick Barton, Clan Ventrue
Irina Szantovitch-Bathory
Veronica Giver-of-Hope
> you so soon it's just - Wow!"
She smiles gently.
> All this comes out in one breath. "Aren't you worried? I mean from what I have
> been told our peoples do not exactly get on."
"Nah, not at all. 'Parently, Marie talked to Misha ahead of time, to make sure it
was okay for me to come along. As for our peoples not getting along..." She sighs
heavily. "It's true, unfortunately. Let me just say that I hate bigots. Of both
species."
> Then she stops and curses under her breath. "Sorry, where are my manners? Istvan
> would be furious with me, I'm Jane, who do I have the honour of addressing?"
"Oh, hey! My name's Dana." She grins again, and jerks her head back at the angelic
albino. "I'm *that* one's roommate, and best friend for around eighteen years. Her
parents practically raised me, after my parents died and my brother disappeared in a
mass of red tape." She gets a mischeivous look on her face. "Wanna feel my belly?
The baby's unusually active tonight..." She exudes this very motherly glow, added to
the flush of her sexuality, and for a moment she reminds Jane of the earth-mother
goddesses of old.
Veronica Giver-of-Hope
> > group surrounding Nick. "You'll probably want to be present while I
> > see what Mr. Bond here conjured up with the cell phone," he said
> > flatly, breaking into a purposeful march. His eyes searched for the
> > raven haired child, but couldn't track her down. "So, who's running
> > the show in Birmingham these nights?" he enquired.
The "raven-haired child" was keeping a discreet eye on him, using some of what
Julianna had taught her about stealth, including stepping behind someone at the
last possible second. She had a small notepad out and was scribbling her
observations down as rapidly as she possibly could. Some facts (like the thick
Diablerie lines and pulsing, scintillating colors of his aura) she
triple-underlined. //This should prove very interesting in the proper hands...//
She rubbed thoughtfully at the tattoo on the inside of her left wrist as she
continued to watch. //I love my job!// (She was genuinely enjoying herself; she
never thought that being a spy/voyeur could be so much fun!)
Veronica Giver-of-Hope
> he was approaching the group, Corrina in hand. "Oh, shit, he's comin' this
> way. Okay, folks, let's all act calm an' normal here, an' we just might get
> through this okay."
"Normal?" Marie asked, fluttering her ivory lashes. "What's that?"
> Nick broke away from the group and made his way through the crowd until he had
> finally reached the muscular woman. "Brigit! How ya doin', girl?"
She grins happily, and hugs him tight enough to drive the very breath from his
lungs. "Nick! You look wonderful!" She releases him. "I'm doing well; even better
now that I've seen you, alive and well! How have *you* been these past few months?"
(OOC: There's another title to add to Nick's long list of them: Stealer of Hearts!)
Geoff
him.
> (OOC: I don't think he's met so many beautiful vampires in one night
before.
> Unfortunately, they're usually immune to his charms - unlike the
mortal
> women he usually prey on : ) )
>
>
> Misha smiled, and extended his hand to shake.
> "I'm Misha Young. I own the place. Who might you be miss?"
[OOC: Around about now, those keeping an eye on Trouble may like to
know that he's fast approaching, heading directly your way. His eyes
are locked on Nick Barton and he leaves a trail of smoke behind him
from the cigarette he's devouring. Close on his heels is Corinna
Nugent. The truly observant will notice they are engaged in
conversation as they cross the club. They've come about half way
across the club on a direct line from the phones. ;-) ]
Geoff
you?"
> > The strangers voice conveyed an unexpected sympathy. "Even
assuming
> > you somehow know who I *was*, you have no idea who I *am*. More to
the
> > point, I have no idea who *you* are either. We could be blood
enemies.
> > You could be leading me into a trap. I could be here to destroy
> > someone. Small moves, Corinna. Small moves. But I can see you've
got
> > pride in your work and a taste for the wild side. That'll come in
> > handy. So, let's go from there..."
>
> Corinna paused for a fraction of a second while she considered his
argument.
> "Good point," she said finally. "You could be Sabbat, in which case
I'd have
> to kill you," she said cheerfully, with a pleasant smile, indicating
that
> she would enjoy it if he was.
The stranger returned a faint smile, "That's the spirit, Corinna. You
catch on fast."
> > The stranger pocketed the cigarettes and started forward towards
the
> > group surrounding Nick. "You'll probably want to be present while
I
> > see what Mr. Bond here conjured up with the cell phone," he said
> > flatly, breaking into a purposeful march. His eyes searched for
the
> > raven haired child, but couldn't track her down. "So, who's
running
> > the show in Birmingham these nights?" he enquired.
>
> "We are - I suppose you'd call us the Anarchs. We've adopted most of
the
> traditions of the Camarilla, but we're keeping it equal. The Prince
has been
> replaced by a Revolutionary Council, which is more like a Primogen,
really."
> She said all of this without turning her head to look at him while
she
> followed. Without breaking stride, she placed the glass on a table.
"Is that a fact?" the stranger replied, marching onwards. "Sounds like
my kinda town. Popular too, by the looks of things. What'd these
revolutionaries do, embrace the entire city? Or have I just waltzed
into 'Miss. Bloodsucker of the Century'?" At the pace he's going, the
stranger is almost half way across the club already and fast
approaching the company of vampires ahead. While he attends to his
conversation with Corinna, his eyes remain locked on Nick.
> Corinna Nugent
> Lasombra
PKieferjr
<hda...@pcisys.net> writes:
>> Nick broke away from the group and made his way through the crowd until he
>had
>> finally reached the muscular woman. "Brigit! How ya doin', girl?"
>
>She grins happily, and hugs him tight enough to drive the very breath from
>his
>lungs. "Nick! You look wonderful!" She releases him. "I'm doing well; even
>better
>now that I've seen you, alive and well! How have *you* been these past few
>months?"
Nick let out a resounding "Ooof" before being released from the vise-grip hug.
"Well, it's been better. Lemme buy ya a drink. Ah need a lone table anyway."
Nick Barton, Clan Ventrue
>(OOC: There's another title to add to Nick's long list of them: Stealer of
>Hearts!)
(OOC: I'm innocent, I tell ya! ;-)
Matt Griffiths
> >He pushed his way through the crowds of dancers (OOC: Presumably Cole is
> >following) until he found a young woman dancing with a young man. She
> >appeared to be no more than 14 or 15, and looked like a young Christina
> >Ricci.
> >"Hi Paula! There's someone I'd like you to meet." He turned to Cole.
"Cole,
> >this is Paula Jones. She sits on the Revoluionary Council. Paula, this is
> >Cole Harris, my saviour," he said with a smile. "He's from San
Fransisco."
> >
>
> "I wouldn't say saviour. I was looking out for myself to be quite
honest."
> said Cole with humor and a bit of humility in his voice
>
> >Paula simply smiled. "Hi. Nice to meet you, Cole."
> >
> "A most enjoyable pleasure Ms. Paula. Revolutionary Council huh? Does
that
> imply you've still got a revolution on your hands?"
"No, it's a temporary name. Once the situation with the Sabbat of Coventry
has calmed down, we'll have the chance to sit down and think up a better
name," she said with a sweet smile.
> Cole Harris
--
Paula Jones
Caitiff
--
Matt
Matt Griffiths
<snip>
> "Is that a fact?" the stranger replied, marching onwards. "Sounds like
> my kinda town. Popular too, by the looks of things. What'd these
> revolutionaries do, embrace the entire city? Or have I just waltzed
> into 'Miss. Bloodsucker of the Century'?" At the pace he's going, the
> stranger is almost half way across the club already and fast
> approaching the company of vampires ahead. While he attends to his
> conversation with Corinna, his eyes remain locked on Nick.
Corinna let out a short laugh. "Nothing as adventurous as that, I assure
you. We've simply changed the way we govern the West Midlands. There was a
high Anarch population in the area already - it was only Birmingham and
Coventry that had allegiance to a sect. We run it more like a democracy -
every Cainite gets a say in what goes on."
(OOC: We've been walking across to Nick for a long time. May I suggest that
we start a new thread, e.g. "PH: The Conversation with Barton", or something
similar?)
> The Stranger
> http://www.pigou.freeserve.co.uk/RedCity/
> *remove NOSPAM to reply*
--
Corinna Nugent
Lasombra
--
Matt Griffiths
Matt Griffiths
> >> >There was a sputtering noise behind them as Misha semi-choked on his
> >glass
> >> >of blood.
> >> >
> >> <OOC:I guess it's his lucky night, she has appearance 4:-)>
> >(OOC: I don't think he's met so many beautiful vampires in one night
before.
> >Unfortunately, they're usually immune to his charms - unlike the mortal
> >women he usually prey on : ) )
> >
> >> "I think we are safe enough, and you are?"
> >
> >Misha smiled, and extended his hand to shake.
> >"I'm Misha Young. I own the place. Who might you be miss?"
> >
> forget what they wanted to say."
> She looks around clearly a little out of her element. Then noticing his
> hand takes it and shakes it.
> "Nice place you have here."
> She nods towards the shorter girl. "That's Jane, you'd better ask her to
> explain who she is, that is if you can pry her away from the Lupine."
Misha smiles at her. "Nice to have met you, Irina." He walks the short
distance to Jane, and places his hand delicately on her shoulder from
behind. He leans in close. "Fascinating, isn't she?" He indicates Dana, like
she is an unusual piece of art or a museum exhibit.
> Irina Szantovitch-Bathory
--
Misha Young
Toreador Vocalist
--
Matt
Matt Griffiths
PKieferjr <pkie...@aol.com> wrote in message
news:19990609180808...@ngol04.aol.com...
> (OOC: Cut and paste time. Bear with me here.....)
>
then
> after a pause, Dana. "Er....excuse me, but would you be Nick Barton?"
>
> Behind her the shorter woman is staring at Dana in complete fascination.
>
> "That's me," Nick replied. "What can Ah do fer ya?"
>
> "Nothing really," she replies with a slightly relieved smile. "It's just
> nice to find somebody I recognise. Sorry, I should introduce myself,
> I'm Irina."
>
> "Howdy."
>
> She jerks her head at the shorter woman. "That's Jane, you wont have
> heard about her."
>
> "Ma'am."
>
> Jane looks around and gives Nick a half smile and a distracted nod then
> goes back to her fascinated study of Dana.
>
> Dana gives the smaller woman a friendly smile. "Don't worry, li'l darlin';
I've
> had my shots, and I won't bite unless you ask *very* nicely." She bats her
> dark-brown lashes at the stranger.
>
me to
one
> of you so soon. It's just...Wow!" All this comes out in one breath.
"Aren't
> you worried? I mean, from what I have been told our peoples do not
exactly get
> on." Then she stops and curses under her breath. "Sorry, where are my
manners?
> Istvan would be furious with me, I'm Jane, who do I have the honour of
> addressing?"
>
>
> "So Mr Barton, two questions, who's the psychotic Diablerist? And did
> you know you were talking to a Lupine.?"
>
> of blood. Irina looks around to see the source of the noise and smiles at
him.
>
> Misha smiled, and extended his hand to shake.
> "I'm Misha Young. I own the place. Who might you be miss?"
>
call
they
> forget what they wanted to say." She looks around clearly a little out of
her
> element. Then noticing his hand takes it and shakes it. "Nice place you
have
> here."
> explain who she is, that is if you can pry her away from the Lupine."
>
> handed Misha a handkerchief before turning to the ladies. "Number one,
that
> guy over thar." Nick non-chalantly pointed in the stranger's direction,
keeping
> his hand low.
Misha waved a thank-you as he took the handkerchief and dabbed away an
errant spot of blood from his chin.
> Nick Barton, Clan Ventrue
AdamRLee
>"No, it's a temporary name. Once the situation with the Sabbat of Coventry
>has calmed down, we'll have the chance to sit down and think up a better
>name," she said with a sweet smile.
>
"Well that's good. I wish you the best of luck against those monsters. I was
about to say 'Revolutionary Council' doesn't exactly breed complacency but you
seem to know what's going on quite well." replied Cole.
Cole Harris
Veronica Giver-of-Hope
> "Well, it's been better. Lemme buy ya a drink. Ah need a lone table anyway."
"Okay..." She lets him lead the way, then snags a chair with her foot, turns it
around, and sits in it backwards. "What's up?"
> (OOC: I'm innocent, I tell ya! ;-)
(OOC: Yeah, sure, as if I'd believe *that*.)