Prince Modius' Mansion

 

Prince Modius, a regal yet pale Kindred with dark hair and a trimmed beard and mustache, sits behind his desk in a nice looking parlor. He bears a surprised look on his face. "Who are you? How did you just walk in here undetected?"

 

Mr. Confetti, tall, lean, in a white Armani suit and matching top hat grins brightly. "Why, it's me Mr. Confetti, the founder of Clan Gargantuan!"

 

Modius immediately sits back in his chair, and considers a moment. "I see. The famous Malk...er...Gargantuan Elder I have heard so much about. Yes. Yes, you have made quite a name for yourself playing music at many of my clan's biggest parties. I am sure I can arrange for you to present your art at the biggest celebrations in Chicago. I am on excellent terms with our Primogen there."

 

"And that's great. I definitely will want to do that, but that's not why I'm here. First, of course, I came to present myself to the rightful Prince of the region."

 

Modius nods his head appreciatively. "As is expected. Very well, I give you hospitality in my Domain, in accordance with the Traditions. I can put you up in a temporary haven if you need accommodations. I understand you typically only stay a week or two in a particular city before moving on, generally. How long will this visit be for?"

 

Mr. Confetti starts counting on his fingers, considers, counts some more. Modius tries not to lose his patience but this goes on for far too long and its quite clear Mr. Confetti is just making an intentional annoyance of himself. "About fifty years, give or take."

 

Modius' jaw drops. "Fifty...what?"

 

Mr. Confetti leans in conspiratorially. "I'm not here to play violin at a Toreador party. I have much bigger ideas than that."

 

Modius' raises an eyebrow. "What do you mean? What do you mean, ideas?"

 

Mr. Confetti sits on the edge of the desk, which Prince Modius scowls at. "Isn't it obvious? Lodin's dead. There's no Prince in Chicago. And word through the grapevine is, you are going to make a play for that seat. Maybe we can help each other."

 

Prince Modius immediately stands from the chair, as if its caught on fire. "No, I....that's not..." he regards Mr. Confetti carefully. He turns away, towards the wall. There is a long silence, then he turns back.

 

"Tell me why you would help me."

 

"Well, first of all as you said yourself, I like you Toreador. I would much rather have you in the big chair than another Ventrue or one of those Warlocks. You need help Prince Modius. You have too many enemies in Chicago and let's face it, lots of Elders who should be supporting you are either just supporting their own cause instead or owe too much to others to change allegiances. No, what you need is new blood, and I can get it for you. More Elders, but not in Chicago. Here in Gary. Let me have that giant building down the street. The one with all of those four room suites. It'll be perfect." 

 

"That is a headquarters for-"

 

"For those socialists in the 1980's, I know the history. But, that so-called headquarters is practically falling down, let's not pretend you have anyone to fill it with. But I do. Elder Kindred, with no allegiances to any of the other candidates, who aren't under the influence of the current Primogen council. Independent elders who will be living in your domain with your permission."

 

Prince Modius strokes his chin slowly, carefully. He's starting to see it.

 

"Yes. And with these new powerful agents backing me, I will have the full support of my own clan for certain. I mean, I have it now but they can't openly move for fear of those damn Ventrue! Well, we'll show them won't we Mr. Confetti?"

 

"We certainly will. All I need is that building. I'm going to rename it The Hotel. I'll need a way to sneak my people in with as few of the elders in Chicago learning about it as possible."

 

"Indeed. Tell your people to avoid the airplane route, and the highways which are controlled by the Sheriff. Instead, I'll talk to Lucian. He's a good, trustworthy man. He controls the docks."

 

"And he won't spill the beans, this Lucian?"

 

"He's a Gangrel. And a loner. He doesn't care for politics. As long as your people leave his interests be, he will cooperate. He has long seen to the safe passage of Kindred into this region by boat. Long before there were planes, there was Lucian. This will not seem so out of the ordinary to him."

 

Mr. Confetti tips his hat and bows low. "Then, Prince Modius, we have ourselves a deal?"

 

"I will sign over the lease to...to The Hotel, as you now call it. And you may begin your recruiting process. Please do be discerning. This ploy of yours will only work if these new Kindred are truly efficient and will make a positive impression on the Primogen Council. Otherwise we will simply be bringing in more mouths to feed in an already somewhat crowded region. Nobody wants that."

 

Mr. Confetti grins appreciatively. "Oh don't you fret. If there is one thing I am for certain, it's discerning!"